Harry Potter's Magik and the Philosopher's Stone

Proluge

The redish glow reflecting off of the snowy capped mountain ranges could be seen for miles while the stray streaks of light would fly upwards towards the sky before dispersing into nothingness. Smoke billowing from different segments of the battlefield seemed to rise endlessly.

Screams of agony and horror were echoeing off into the night, some words recognizable as English; some a language not learned by most of mankind.

Hundreds of bodies layed sprawled accross the battlefield. Most were charred or damaged beyond recognition. One would have to watch their footing as they trekked over the corpses and severed appendages.

The great battle had begun hours ago, many lives and families were lost and destroyed in the waning hours of the night. Man was fighting man, Dragons fighting Elder Elven. The eternal fued between the two great ancient races had been reignited due to the incessant conflict of their respective students.

The fields were dampened with pools of blood, man's, dragon's and elven's. The latent amount of residual magic had become almost physical, creating a gravitional pull of sorts upon the war zone.

Summit of the nearest mountain

A congregation of men clad in dark robes witnessed and revelled in the death and destruction caused by the battle below.

"The time is near brethren. Our objectives are now well within our grasp and the preperations have been completed." A tall hooded figure hissed. "Take your places, for the night of the resurrection has begun. The needed blood and magic has been shed and spent. Our time has come." The figure turned away from the mountains edge, cloak billowing behind him as he made his way toward the massive and intricate runescape.

The silent figures that surround him began to disperse quickly to their designated locations atop multiple runes drawn onto the ground. Once all were in place the original figure glided into the eye of the scape and stood upon the center rune.

"Lost ones from the plane of Nether! Cast unto I, the unholy curse you weild! Embrace me as your own and accept my offering of blood and magic. Spilled from our enemies and taken for our own." The figure began to chant out. His pupils began to dissolve into the whites of his eyes, removing any sign of consciencesness.

The massive pools of blood below began to trickle upwards at a growing pace and pooling nearly at the same hight of the mountain peak. The surrounding magic began to crackle and swirl upwards. It spun and rolled into a ring surrounding the pool above floating in the sky. Flashes of eldrich lightning struck at the pool from the ring causing it to start to glow an eery red. The rest of the warriors fighting took note and all began to look upwards not realizing what was taking place.

Each rune began to activate and engulf the figure standing within it in a disturbing red fire. Seering every once of their beings they cried out in pain and agony. They would be sacrificed unknowingly in an attempt to reach immortallity. The irony couldn't be more fitting.

"Banish the decrepit ancients from this plane so that we may conquer the light and control this world!" Use me as your vessel to purge this impure land!" The figured cried out as he was also engulfed in the unatural red flame. It consumed him from his very soul outward. His features began to rot and corrode with the dark magic that surrounded him. Once the flames were fed he, or rather it, stood, a husk of his former self, completely still. His face pointed upwards, beams of red light shone from his open eyes and mouth straight up towards the heavens as if in an attempt to pierce and corrupt them.

The center of the battlefield below

A man fighting valiantly on the battlefield fought off both Drakon and Eldren, the ancient kings in an attempt to force both to yield. This hero was once the leader of man, before the desintigration of peace and understanding that was thrust unto the land. No other human had gained the reknown he had, even among the ancients he demanded respect. He had been the sole benefactor of receiving training in both types of magik. He had united the Dragon trained Mages and the Elven taught Wizards. He was the appointed Warlock Merlin, the diety among his followers of the Order of the phoenix.

"Why must all suffer at the hands of those we once called brother?" He yelled as the three way battle raged.

The destruction caused by these beings could rip continents apart if left unchecked or uncontrolled. They were almost immune to the battle raging around them, nothing could break the concentration of these three monsters, except for Merlin's when the blood of his comrads began rising up in front his very eyes.

Knowing that the battle was lost and the ancients relations non salvagable. He fled that battle to gather his forces.

"The sect has made their move." Merlin exclaimed as he marched upon the last contigent of his men."I fear that what we had tried so painfully hard to prevent...has unreversibly begun." He said with a grave tone. Knowing that the battle was a loss, and that the outcome had now become set in stone. He and his Order of the Phoenix, knew what they now had to accomplish.

"We may have failed in keeping the peace and preventing the loss of the ancients, but we will not allow the Sect to go unchecked. We must take our leave now...for we have a difficult and treacherous road ahead." With Merlins final words of the battle, he and his order vanished with a resounding *CRACK*

Almost instantaneously the red pool above shot down an all encompassing beam that swallowed all things below and cast those remaining on the battlefield into an abyss of the unknown. The ancients that had once ruled this world, had vanished and been lost to time.