Chapter 13: Warlock's Rise

Harry woke up with a start. Macabre green light flashed before his eyes as he remembered his dream and the shocked expression of an unknown man as it washed over him, stripping him of life. Somehow, Harry knew it wasn't an ordinary dream. He wondered what to make of it, but with all that was already going on in his life, it would have to be on the backburner.

Moments like this, he wished Sirius was still with him.

Wiping away a tear, Harry got up from his rickety bed and went over to the window of his ramshackle hut. The last two and a half years had been tough for him, even with all his resources. The wizarding world had long since given up on their pursuit of the infamous Harry Black, the Minister had been sure he wouldn't last long in the chaos of life, and did not wish to divert Auror resources towards capturing a child. Madame Bones, the Chief of the DMLE had been in agreement with him. And so, Harry Black had passed out of sight and out of mind of the general wizarding population.

Except for one Lucius Malfoy, who remembered. He remembered a boy who had wielded fiendfyre. He remembered the boy who had almost caused the death of his son. Lucius Malfoy remembered the sight of his son and how close he had come to being devoured by the flames of Hell. And so, he had decided, Harry Black had to die. He had sent a summons to his Death Eaters as well as offered a sizeable bounty on the head for Harry Black, who was to be brought to him either dead or alive.

Assassins and Death Eaters, the worst of the wizarding world had been on Harry's heels for the last couple of years, and it was only due to a combination of keen intellect, knowledge of the muggle world and some strokes of luck and good fortune that Harry had continued to evade and avoid them. They had been harsh times for Harry, but he had learnt, oh how he had learnt, and soon, the hunters had become the hunted. Killed by a stray spell in the darkness, falling to unfortunate and weird accidents, inhaling unknown fumes, never to rise again. Oh yes, Harry had been busy.

And despite all that, it was all he could do to remain one step ahead of the assassins. And now this, vivid dreams and a horrific feeling up his spine of someone running over his grave. He knew things were about to get even worse. And he was far from prepared for it.

Harry watched the undulating waves of green grass sway over the hills, under the shimmering stars of the dark sky, by the thundering waters of the ocean pummelling the shore at the edge of the horizon, and he shivered. Dark things were moving in the night.

-X-X-

The cold made the hairs on Harry's hands prickle up. He took a sip of coffee to wipe away the last vestiges of sleep and find his bearings. Dawn lurked over the horizon, the first of the sunlight streaking across the azure skies, lighting it up in a myriad of vibrant colours. It warmed Harry's souls and reminded him of the bronze curls of his once-best friend, Hermione Granger. Remembering her made his heart ache, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He had promised to be in touch with her. Then he had gone ahead and not only broken the promise, but stomped on it, smashed it to smithereens, and discarded it, leaving behind nothing but a memory.

How he wished things could've been different, but he couldn't get in touch with her, otherwise the assassins would've hurt her to get to him, and that was one thing he couldn't – wouldn't – let happen. In his bid to save her, he may have inadvertently alienated her. Such was his stock in life. One tragedy after another. It had always been so.

He bowed his head and let out a dark chuckle at the irony.

That was also what saved his life as something whooshed above his head and embedded itself into the wall behind it.

Harry who had learnt to react to the smallest of movements was in motion long before the dark was stuck in the wooden panels of his room. He uncoiled like a snake, unsheated his wand in one fluid motion, and leapt to the side, a barrage of defensive spells ready at the tip of his tongue.

Another dart came his way and this time instead of avoiding it, he sent it back towards the marksman with a flick of his wand. It came to a halt against empty air.

"Bloody hell," Harry swore. The assassin was a wizard. This wasn't good.

Another dart came this way. Followed by another. And another. An entire barrage of poisoned darts were coming towards him.

Harry knew the window wouldn't last against the combined force of the darts. Still, it could reduce their strength. He shut it with a flick of his wand and reinforced it with a bolt of iron. That's when he felt a tremor go through the foundations of his makeshift home. Then another. The house trembled, threatening to collapse on itself.

That's when Harry realized the assassin's plan. Whoever it was knew Harry would box himself inside the house to avoid the darts. And now, they could destroy the entire place – with Harry in it. The only reason he hadn't been blown to bits was because of the extensive network of protective wards he had placed upon the place. No one expects such wards to be placed on a rundown place like the one he was living in, and that was probably what saved his life. If they had removed the wards first and attacked later, he would've been a dead man. Then, he felt the anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards go up.

Harry cursed. "Dead if I stay inside, dead if I go outside."

That's when it came to Harry. The perfect idea. With a flick of his wand, he packed his meagre belongings into a trunk. Then, he shrunk the trunk and pocketed it. He followed it with a summoning charm and called his rickety broomstick towards himself. Leaping onto the broom, he fled towards the fireplace and let loose a bombarda, blowing it open. The house continued to shiver as the wards began coming apart. It wouldn't stand for long. Harry knew he had to time his flight to perfection if he wanted to turn the ambush around and pull one over his pursuers.

Harry cast a disillusionment spell on himself and waited.

The wooden beams of the hut began trembling. The walls began falling inwards. The window blew apart and the howling wind ran through the house.

Still, Harry waited.

Then, a loud, piercing gong rang and the wards came down in a streak of cerulean light. The house imploded on itself. At the last moment, Harry entered the fireplace and sped upwards through the chimney. He lay flat against the broom and corkscrewed round to gather momentum and make it through the thin passage. With a shouted reduction, Harry blew open the top of the chimney and entered open air. He did not stop flying until he was high above the Irish air, looking down at the tumbling ruins of his house. The noise from the implosion and the ensuing collapse had hidden his escape.

As the dust settled, three figures shimmered into view. Two of them wore Death Eater masks, while the third was a dark-skinned woman with burnished brown locks. For some reason, she reminded him of Hermione. He shook that thought out of his head and wondered about his next course of action. He could let them go, let them assume that he was dead, and get some peace from the constant game of cat-and-mouse that his life had become. But they had hunted him, they had tried to kill him. They had destroyed his house, once he had built from scratch. He yearned retribution. Caught between logic and emotion, his head was a confused mess. Harry ran his hands through his messy hair. That's when a third idea popped into his mind.

They would search the house for his body, and if they didn't find one, they would know he had escaped. He wasn't off the hook yet. But…what if it was impossible to find a body? What if the destruction was such that no trace of the body had been left behind? What if Lucius Malfoy believed he had taken down his assailants – but died while doing so?

That could give him a few months of respite from the constant attacks.

A semblance of an idea formed in his mind.

As the trio of assassins made their way to the wreckage of his house, Harry swooped down over them, still disillusioned. The anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards were still up, and they wouldn't be able to bring them down in time.

"This is what happens to those who attack me," Harry spoke with a feral smile. "Say hello to my little friend!" he yelled into the night. The assassins turned and whispered defensive spells, shock visible on their faces, but it was for naught.

Harry slashed his wand downwards and sought the familiar-call of the infernal flames. They warmed his soul and rushed out of his wand in an incandescent conflagration of liquid heat and molten fire. Dragons, Basilisks and Phoenixes of hellfire danced over the Irish grasslands, singing their glee to the world, free from their tortuous confines.

Fiendfyre painted the skies red.

-X-X-

'Fiendfyre Blazes Across Hamlet. Dark Wizards Rising. What Is The Ministry Doing?'

Hermione Granger's eyes widened with shock as she read the legend on the day's Daily Prophet. Ron Weasley spluttered and actually spat out his coffee, drenching Daniel as Hermione read it aloud. Since Pettigrew had escaped Azkaban and the sighting of the Death Eaters at the world cup, their group had been visibly worried about the rise of the dark elements in the world. Especially Daniel, Iris and James Potter. They both knew Voldemort would come for Daniel someday. The adventures of the last two years had confirmed it for them. In his private moments, James worried about his other son, Harry, but there had been no sighting of him, despite the extensive searches he had conducted. Daniel and Iris had seen their father shed tears, anxiety rife on his face, when he though he wasn't looking.

"It's alright, Ron," Daniel sighed began wiping his shirt with a napkin when Iris flicked her wand and dried it. "Honestly, brother, are you a wizard or not?" she said with a wink. That caused the group to chuckle and the worries of the outside world were forgotten as they indulged in familiar banter.

The Hall was buzzing with nervous energy and activity and even mentions of escaped Death Eaters and Dark Wizards couldn't keep the noise down. After all, it was Halloween, and the Triwizard Champions were going to be announced today.

"Who do you reckon will be the Champions?" Neville asked, biting into a sandwich.

"Gotta be Krum for D'stang," Ron muttered with a mouthful of turkey.

"Can't disagree with that," Daniel added, glancing at the surly seeker sitting with the Slytherins.

"I think Angelina would be a good bet for Hogwarts," Iris added.

"I heard Cedric Diggory's entered," Neville answered, joining the group. He slid into a seat beside Ron.

"Pretty boy Diggory? Naah, he'd be too worried of hurting his pretty face," Ron mumbled.

"For your information, he's a prefect and top of his year. He's very good," Hermione said loftily.

Ron looked at her strangely before smirking. "Ooo, does someone have a crush on Pretty Boy Diggory? Do tell, Hermione." His sandwich forgotten.

"No, I do not have a crush on him," said Hermione though her cheeks were tinged red. "I just believe he would make a strong candidate for Hogwarts."

"Sure you do. I'm sure you would love to study him as well – Oops, I meant study with him," Ron smirked. Hermione huffed and threw a piece of bread at him.

"Oye –" Ron began, and the situation would've devolved into a full-blown food-fight but the Goblet of Fire chose that moment to send up sparks of blue fire.

It was time for the Champions to be chosen.

"The Champion for Durmstang is…Viktor Krum!"

"The Champion for Beauxbatons is…Fleur Delacour!"

"The Champion for Hogwarts is…Cedric Diggory!"

All four tables burst into applause at that. Cedric Diggory was a well-liked student, one who was known for his fairness and ability. One of the few students who got along well with every house. Hogwarts had found a good champion in Cedric Diggory.

The applause was still ringing across the Great Hall when the Goblet burst into flames again. It sputtered, sparked, and emitted a single piece of parchment before going out.

Dumbledore plucked it out of thin air, a thunderous expression on his face.

Hermione, Ron, Neville and Ginny looked at the two Potters. Whenever something weird, unexpected – and often bad – had happened on Halloween in the previous years, it had involved one of them, most commonly Iris and Daniel.

Worry lined their faces as they stared at each other. That was when Dumbledore gave them a piercing stare, the twinkle absent from his eyes, and their anxiety increased.

Then, he spoke two words which sent the entire hall into an uproar. Two words which would have repercussions across all of Magical Britain. Two words which stood at the heart of a broken family, which hadn't been uttered out loud, with such clarity, in a long, long time. A name which the Wizarding World had slowly begun forgetting, almost as if it had never existed.

"Harry Potter."

-X-X-

And in a far off corner of Ireland, an exhausted and injured boy felt a pull on his magic like never before. A pull which had its epicentre far in the north, and which called at his soul, almost painfully so.

Harry Black closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Events had begun spiralling out of his control way too soon. Things were happening once again.

It was time to return to Hogwarts.

It was time for Harry Potter to emerge from the shadows and face all those who would stand in his way. It was time to face his destiny and become all that he was supposed to be.

It was time for the Warlock to rise once again.

-X-X-

AN: Reviews make me write faster. Follow me on Twitter as TheQuillseeker and on Instagram as Trailsofpaper.

Thank you for reading! Until next time. Pip pip!