Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.
Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story. An additional thank you goes out to Discord user Hedach for his additional edits.
Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.
Authors Note:
So, year 2; here we go! Much of the main plot will be recognizable from CoS, however, there will be some changes and additions to the main plot with some secondary plot points that will come to be game changers over time. As I have said in the past, we will stray further away from cannon as the story progresses.
Recommendations:
Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.
Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.
Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.
The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.
Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.
The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.
A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.
Magicks of The Arcane by Eilyfe.
Harry Potter and The Ashes of Chaos by ACI100.
"Speech."
'Internal Dialogue.'
Parseltongue.
Memories/In Story Text.
Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal
By ACI100.
Year 2: The Looming Of Shadows.
Chapter 1: The House of Hades.
June 18th 1992.
King's Cross Station.
5:01 PM.
Narcissa watched with narrowed eyes as the raven haired boy, along with another that she thought to be the Longbottom heir followed a tall, thin woman towards the floo connections. She sneered at their backs, her eyes not leaving the spot they had stood until she heard a pleasantly familiar voice a few minutes later.
"Mother!"
She turned, smiling widely as Draco neared her at a brisk pace. His friends, the young Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him as the Parkinson heiress hung from his arm. She smiled slightly when Draco extricated himself from the girl to step forwards and hug her tightly. Narcissa's smile widened, reaching down and touseling the boy's perfect blonde hair before finally stepping back from him, examining her son more critically.
"How was the conclusion of your year, Draco?"
"Well enough," he sighed, "our grades came today.."
"And?"
"A's in History and Astronomy. E's in Herbology and Transfiguration. E+'s in Charms and Defense Against The Dark Arts and an O in Potions."
Narcissa pursed her lips as the girl beside him congratulated him.
'Acceptable, but a bit lacklustre.'
"Passable," She decreed, "the Potions mark is excellent, though your marks in at least the practical subjects need to be higher. I will tolerate a low mark in History, though Astronomy should be at least an E. You know that your father's standards will be at least as harsh as mine."
"Yes, mother." Answered Draco, bowing his head in acknowledgement as the girl stepped forward nervously.
"An honour, Lady Malfoy." She gushed, extending a hand nervously. "I am Pansy Parkinson, Heiress of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Parkinson."
Narcissa smiled once more, this time, it was in an attempt to ease the girl's nerves as she took her offered hand. "But I am aware of who you are, Ms. Parkinson. We have spoken on a number of occasions, and Draco thinks very highly of you if his letters are any indication." Draco blushed as Pansy beamed at him.
She glanced towards the other two boys. "Good afternoon Vincent, Gregory. Are your fathers coming for you?"
"We're supposed to floo over from Malfoy manor if that's ok, ma'am."
Narcissa smiled at Gregory, who had spoken. They had spent a fair bit of their childhoods at the manor. It would have baffled her why they continued to address her so formally if she did not already know that their fathers were rather terrified of doing anything that may upset her or Lucius.
"But of course, dears." She glanced at Pansy. "And you, Ms. Parkinson?"
"Mother is supposed to meet me here, I just wanted to greet you and say goodbye to Draco."
Narcissa smiled. "We will wait with you. It would be most improper of me to not assure you made it home safely." She smiled at the surprised yet joyed look on the girl's face.
It only took several minutes for the girl's mother to show up. They exchanged brief pleasantries before Narcissa snapped her fingers and summoned one of the house elves. She almost winced when Dobby appeared in front of them.
'Why Lucius will not let me kill the thing, I do not know.'
"What can Dobby be doing for mistress Cissy and master Draco." Narcissa sneered at the name. He had picked it up from Lucius, no doubt, but she was not so fond of it when coming from the mouth of the vile creature at her feet.
"Ensure that Mr's. Crabbe and Goyle arrive safely at the manor while I take Draco." The elf nodded once, snapping his fingers and causing their trunks to vanish before, without warning, he took hold of one of each of their hands and vanished in a soft snap.
"He is as mad as ever, I see." Commented Draco dryly, causing Narcissa to laugh softly as she took a firm hold on her son's hand.
"Indeed he is." And she turned, pulling them through space and time itself before appearing in one of the sitting rooms with a soft crack. Not a second later, another house elf popped into the room and quickly took Draco's things up to his room. "Sit." Said Narcissa, to which Draco did so immediately and without hesitation.
"Now," she said, "I would like for you to tell me everything that happened this year between yourself and Harry Potter."
June 18th 1992.
Longbottom Manor.
6:47 PM.
It had been quite nice to be back at Longbottom manor and eat in peace with Neville and Augusta. That luxury had lasted approximately until the moment Augusta asked about the rest of their year, prompting Harry and Neville to exchange looks before taking up the tail of Voldemort, Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone. By the time they had finished, Augusta looked livid.
"Dumbledore used a school full of children as a trap for the most dangerous dark lord in a thousand years?!"
Harry winced. "It all would have been worth it if it worked though." He said darkly, causing Augusta to shake her head.
"But by the man's own admission, it did not! And if it hadn't been for you, I would likely be missing my grandson, and by the sounds of it, this Granger girl wasn't walking out of that chamber again either!"
"It might have worked if I hadn't gone after him." Said Harry dryly. "If he just stared into the mirror for that time and tried to figure it out, he might have been trapped within it."
"He wasn't though," said Neville, and of course Harry knew this, as they had already spoken at length about the subject. "He just got Hermione to do it for him."
Harry shook his head. "Do you think he knew what the mirror was?" He asked Augusta.
"It is possible," she mused, "but I doubt it. If he did, he would have at least attempted to break the enchantments on it."
"Why do you think he was so wary of it then?"
Augusta scowled. "Whatever I think of your headmaster, Voldemort was never fond of crossing Dumbledore. I doubt he was actually scared of him as all of Dumbledore's idiotic followers like to claim, but he made a point to never cross Dumbledore if he could avoid it."
"You think he knew it was Dumbledore's test?" Asked Neville.
"Yes," answered Harry at once, "it's exactly the sort of thing Dumbledore would do. It had his fingerprints all over it."
"What now?" Asked Neville, and Harry suddenly remarked at how now, not a year after the boy had been a stuttering mess, his voice barely hitched at all while casually discussing plans to avoid death at the hands of the most dangerous dark lord in a millennia.
"You keep improving!" Barked Augusta sternly. "Both of you!" She added with a look towards Neville. "If you want to be with Harry through this-"
"I do!" Neville said vehemently.
"Than you're going to have to get a damn shot better in a hurry!" Augusta told him bluntly. "Just being good will not be enough, especially if the bastard is so set on coming back. You really will have to live up to your father's name now, and not because it would make them proud, but because it will be your only chance." Her voice became a bit emotional at the end and Harry shot her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
"We won't let him come back," he insisted, "we'll find out how he survived somehow. Maybe that's what Dumbledore won't tell me until I'm older. We'll hold him off for as long as we have to, and when we know how to finish him, we will."
He made it all sound so easy and almost felt guilty as Neville nodded along for in his heart, Harry knew this was going to be far more difficult than that. He wouldn't be able to rely on his mother's sacrifice forever.
'Fool me once,' he recalled, 'shame on you, fool me twice — shame on me. I doubt he'll fall for it a third time.'
He had to become better, he could not be the weak boy who could not so much as land a spell on Quirrell. He had to be a match for Voldemort one day, there was no other way.
"How do I improve?" Harry asked hungrily. "Beyond just getting ahead, I mean. We're not supposed to perform magic over the summer."
"Oh," said Augusta with a smile, "I have some connections that might be able to help with both of those problems."
June 29th 1992.
Athens.
Magical Historian's Study.
2:43 PM
"Good afternoon, Mr. Chase." Said Albus Dumbledore with a smile as he took his seat across from the aforementioned Mr. Chase. He was not all that old, looking to be in his early forties at most.
"A pleasure to meet you, Supreme Mugwump Dumbledore." The man said. "I admit, I was surprised when you insisted on meeting me."
"Yes," mused the wizened sorcerer, "I assumed you might be."
"I assume whatever it is you are here for, it isn't small talk?"
Dumbledore chuckled indulgently. "No, I am afraid not." He looked at Mr. Chase head on now, and Mr. Chase had the unnerving feeling of being x-rayed. "You are a historian who specializes in ancient magic, that of Greece in particular?"
"That is correct." The man said, "I'm a half blood who was raised in the muggle world and was always fascinated by Greek mythology. When I learned of the magical world, I wanted to know if all of those stories had their roots in magic." He shook his head. "I'm a bit of an obsessive person and when I went down that rabbit hole," he shook his head for a second time, "well, I still haven't found my way out of it."
Dumbledore smiled briefly but his visage quickly became one of deadly seriousness. "I was wondering then whether or not I may be so bold as to ask you some questions about some of the ancient magic in Greece? In particular, a specific sorcerer?"
"Of course," said the other man, looking almost excited to gush on about what he knew.
'We shall see how long that enthusiasm lasts.'
"I was wondering, in particular, what you could tell me about the man known as Herpo The Foul? As well as any specific stories, locations, or artifacts that still exist with a link to the man?"
Mr. Chase's face darkened considerably. "It had to be him, didn't it?" He asked, sighing at Dumbledore's neutral expression before speaking. "Herpo The Foul as you called him, or to give him his proper name, Herpōn ho deinos was born in Epirus. No one knows when he was born, just that it was some time, and likely quite a long time before the 1270's — BC of course. Not much is known about his childhood, but it is said that he was supremely talented with magic from an early age, showing signs of accidental magic as early as a year old in some legends. You'll know of course that he was born a speaker, or as I believe you call it in Britain, a Parseltongue?"
"Parselmouth, but yes, please continue."
"Yes well, they say he was rather fond of snakes and was really the first to experiment with the ability; testing how far the snake's would go for him, what they could and couldn't do, so on and so forth. Anyways, when he grew older, his mother died in a raid from a nearby village." His face darkened. "Herpo sought revenge by using his talents and he wanted it then and there. He got his licks in, but he was forced to flee when he was overwhelmed by their shear numbers." His eyes darkening further still, the man continued. "He took it as a challenge. It's commonly believed that this is why he created the Basilisk after much practice."
"Yes," mused Dumbledore thoughtfully, "I can see how such a creature would be so potent against a large crowd of combatants. The appeal would certainly have been there."
"Yes, well — the magic it took to create such a creature," he shook his head, "nobody knows what, but a lot of people believe that it took some sacrifices to do it. Some say his sanity was one of them, but either way the end result is the same. He released his basilisk on the village and it massacred the place."
"And this is what led him to become the dark lord he is known as?"
"It was likely the catalyst, but he didn't stop there. Revenge wasn't enough for Herpo; it didn't bring his mother back, so he sought to do that too. He dove deeper into the investigation of the soul than anyone before him ever had." Mr. Chase scratched his head contemplatively. "Some say he succeeded in bringing back his mother. Others say his failed attempts drove him further into insanity; I tend to believe the latter. But either way, he was gaining power and taking over. He wanted knowledge, and he was running through village after village to get it. Taking their tomes, interrogating their wisest men."
"But he died." Dumbledore said flatly.
"Eventually," affirmed Mr. Chase, "funny enough, it comes back to the whole reason I got into this stuff in the first place; its connection with muggle mythology. Well, probably the most famous bit of the Greek muggle's mythology is Heracles." He smiled conspiratorially. "Little did they know, he was no son of a god, just an extremely gifted sorcerer who used wandless magic to aid his physical movements. He ended up killing both Herpo and the basilisk, though it took him seven long years to finish Herpo off. That's why the name is so famous, that's where the muggles got their myths from."
"Fascinating." Gushed Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling merrily as his thoughts raced within his head. "Are there any objects or locations linked to Herpo that are still in a condition that would allow them to be examined? Any of his studies, even?"
"None that the public are aware of." Said the man diplomatically but Dumbledore shook his head, a pleasant smile firmly in place.
"There is a reason I am sitting in front of a historian, Mr. Chase. I do not wish to know the extent of what the public knows. I would like to know what you know, or at least, what you believe."
The man cast a look around the small office, almost as if he was making sure they were not being overheard before he spoke in little more than a whisper. "There is a temple in Epirus known to the muggles as the House of Hades. In muggle mythology, it was called the Necromanteion and ancient Greeks went to lower levels to communicate with the dead." He shook his head. "There have never been lower levels confirmed by muggles or magicals, but it does seem rather fishy to me, and rather convenient it be a temple of death in the home of a dark lord who sought to cheat death itself."
"Curious indeed," mused Dumbledore as he got to his feet. "Well, I must be off. I thank you for your audience, Mr. Chase, it was most enlightening." The man smiled and made to take Dumbledore's hand but before he could, a wand flashed from the man's sleeve and pointed directly between his eyes. "Obliviate." Intoned the Hogwarts headmaster, his voice tinged with sadness and regret as the other man swayed where he stood and slumped back into his chair. "I am sorry, Mr. Chase," said Dumbledore sadly, though he knew the man could not hear him, "there is far too much on the line to leave any loose ends." And he turned, swiftly departing the building to continue his summer exploits.
July 2nd 1992.
Longbottom Manor.
8:43 AM.
It was a rather normal breakfast at Longbottom manor until the pair of owls arrived. Harry had not been expecting any mail, and it was neither Ron nor Dean's owl, which were the only two birds of their kind he had seen so far this summer.
He had spent a good amount of time with Ron, as he had spent several days at the manor. He had yet to go to Ron's home. For some reason, he felt as if his friend was trying to avoid that, but they had spent quite a lot of time together. Dean was harder to connect with, as his parents were muggles, though they did plan to meet up at least a few times over the summer.
When he wasn't hanging around his two friends, Harry was studying obsessively. He had begun to move onto the third year theory work for Transfiguration, memorizing the transfigurations themselves as well. The same went for Charms, though he hadn't got super far into that subjects third year material as of yet. He had ordered a copy of both The Standard Book of Spells Grade 3 and The Standard Book of Spells Grade 4 to aid him in his foray, something that just made Ron raise his eyebrows. The other boy hadn't realized just how far ahead Harry actually was, though he felt that it may have strengthened his friend's resolve to get ahead.
He had also been diving deep into books from the Longbottom library; books on defensive magic in particular. They were all extremely interesting, though many of the spells were beyond him, and likely almost any Hogwarts student at the moment.
He had, at last, began to read into Arithmancy as well. He had put it off while at Hogwarts, as he had spent almost all of his free time working with actual spells but now, seeing as he couldn't actively cast magic, it seemed as apt a time as ever. The subject was coming very easily to him. He had always been talented with mathematics, having some of the best grades in the subjects his muggle teachers had ever seen, and he found that this translated extremely well into Arithmancy. The selling point for him was the knowledge that it was the primary component to spell creation, something he was more than a little bit interested in.
He was not at that level yet; he wouldn't be for some time, though much of the beginning guides to the subject had their routes in muggle mathematics, so he was able to skip much of the third year material without much issue. He figured he would be at least well into the fourth year curriculum by the time he went back to Hogwarts and he could not wait. Spell creation was something that interested him greatly, though the applications of Arithmancy were far more reaching than just that.
He had continued his Occlumency exercises as well, and now, the world around him was in clear focus as his mind was clear; though multi-tasking was still rather difficult at best.
He had not seen this owl yet though. It was a rather inconspicuous being with sharp, intelligent looking eyes. It landed directly in front of Harry, presenting him its leg with little to no preamble. Harry shot a questioning look at Augusta.
"It's safe." She assured him, looking as though she had an inkling of who may have mailed him.
Mildly comforted Harry reached out, taking the note from the owl and prompting it to fly off quickly. Before Harry could open the envelope, a second, rather official looking owl flew into the dining room through the open window. It too landed in front of Harry, sticking out its leg in a far slower, more satisfied manner. Harry smiled, recognizing the behaviour as something that may have come from his own owl, Hedwig.
"Read that one first." Ordered Augusta and obediently, Harry opened the second letter, his eyes going wide at the contents.
Dear Mr. Potter,
We have received a request on your behalf to grant you an exception to the Under Age Magic Act for exclusive uses of magic in educational settings. Upon further review, we have granted you an exception to this rule from 10:00 AM to 4:00 PM on the weekdays of the summer break.
Should you be caught abusing these privileges, allow this to serve as your official ministry warning. If our policies are violated, you will be expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
We wish you all the best in your educational studies.
Regards,
Griselda Marchbanks
Head of The Magical Education Committee.
Harry looked at Augusta. "How?" He asked, not seeing how the ministry would have bent such a law.
She smiled. "Griselda is an old friend of mine. I asked a few personal favours." She shook her head. "This exception is to be used outside of the manor, as any magic performed within it is off the radar of the ministry anyway."
"What?!" Harry asked incredulously.
Augusta sighed. "For all of your intelligence and talents, sometimes I forget how little you know. The trace, as the ministry likes to call it, can only detect where magic is cast; not who cast the magic."
"So the trace is pretty much only useful if you're a muggleborn or muggle raised student? It wouldn't even work in public areas, would it?"
"Yes and no," said Augusta, "most parents do not let their children use magic outside of school. Some agree with the decree, others are worried of the repercussions if they were to be caught." She shook her head, a look of disgust marring her features. "That law was passed by purebloods in the Wizengamot generations ago to give their children a leg up. Most traditionalist pureblood families do not enforce it at all. As for being in public; no it wouldn't, but you would be reported to the ministry in seconds, and just a viewing of a memory would be enough for them to cross reference one's appearance with their records and the like."
Harry scowled. "Will you let me and Neville use magic?" He asked, causing Neville to go wide eyed at his boldness.
"I would have already been allowing you to use magic had you known you could have." Neville's eyes went wide at her revelation. "Wipe the surprise off of your face, Neville, it is unbecoming of you, especially while food is in your mouth." Neville quickly snapped his mouth shut. "Of course I will allow you to cast magic! If you are to prepare yourselves as you have told me you intend to. I would be disappointed if you didn't." She turned to Harry. "The exception pertains to the second letter, though it is mainly for the sake of formalities."
Harry took the other letter and opened it. If he had been surprised by the first, he was suitably gobsmacked by the second.
Potter,
I have agreed to help you prepare for the war that is getting closer every day.
Don't waste my time; I won't teach someone who doesn't have the work ethic to cut it.
I will see you tomorrow afternoon at my home. Use the enclosed portkey no sooner or later than 1:00 PM.
The pass phrase is constant vigilance.
Moody.
Harry stared at Augusta in surprise.
'Another old friend?' He thought, not realizing that the statement was actually the truth. "Like — THE Moody? As in — Mad-Eye Moody?"
"The very same." Affirmed Augusta with a knowing smile. "You said you were determined to prepare. We will see just how determined you are very soon."
July 3rd 1992.
A Heavily Warded Home in The Country.
3:58 PM.
Harry slumped to the floor once again as the bludgeoner caught him square in the ribs, his wand clattering to the floor for what felt like the hundredth time. If he had thought his lessons with Flitwick had been difficult, he had been deluded.
Within mere seconds of entering his home, Harry had quickly learned that constant vigilance was far more than an activation phrase for the wizened ex auror — it was a way of life. He had made Harry cast every useful spell he knew of for a fight and had been grudgingly impressed. From there, they had spent two hours in non stop mock combat, as Moody wanted to assess him properly before moving onto their future lessons. By the time they had finished, Harry felt as if he had been in a car crash, where as the ex auror looked perfectly at ease. He had not used his more deadly curses, but aside from that, the man, unlike Flitwick, had pulled no punches.
"Impressive for your age." Said Moody with what sounded like grudging respect. "Potential in heaps and if you're mind is as sharp as it seems, maybe even more than that." He smiled; on his gnarled face, it was a rather vicious looking thing. "Maybe in a few years, you might actually be able to hang with me." It was one of the most backhanded compliments Harry had ever received, but coming from the overly strict and harsh legend of the auror department, Harry took pride in it and vowed to be not just hanging with, but beating Moody in a few years. "But not unless you practice more than just magic. You need CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Harry flinched.
"First things first," said Moody, "you need to be casting silently. There's no way around it!"
Harry gaped at him. 'I'm eleven!'
"Wipe that look off of your face boy! Nothing that I just said will be possible if you can't cast silently; I don't give a hippogryph's rear end how old you are!" He scratched his chin. "In order to cast a spell without an incantation, you have to know the spell. Know your intent, know your desired results more clearly than ever and you have to WILL IT to happen. It takes a strong will to do, but you've got to learn it." Harry nodded, his determination growing by the second. "You'll practice that on your own." Decided Moody. "While you're with me, we'll work on fighting. Combat scenarios, the importance of planning and obviously," he smiled again, "add some weapons to your repertoire." He offered a hand to Harry which he took gratefully, not expecting to have a wand jabbed at him and be thrown ten feet backwards. "What did I say?!" Boomed Moody. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"
'Damn, this is gonna be harder than I thought.'
July 25th 1992.
Epirus.
The House of Hades.
11:38 PM.
It had taken several long weeks to find what Mr. Chase had referred to as "The House of Hades." Once, there had been a temple above the ground, and if myths were to be believed, it led down to the famed lower levels where it was said that the Ancient Greeks had communicated with the dead. Now though, the temple in question was long destroyed, and finding an entrance was not easy; not even for the man who was commonly referred to as the greatest sorcerer alive.
Finally, after weeks of looking, Dumbledore had finally come across traces of magic. They were weak, left to decay over thousands of years but they were still present. Magic never truly faded, and though magic like this would take a true master to detect, it was still there for the taking.
Once he had found the source of the magic, it had not been overly difficult to track it to the hill he currently stood at the crest of. A bit above him, atop the hill was a cluster of scattered ruins that looked to be nothing impressive, scattered around the limestone remains of what looked to have once been buildings. That was, if one ignored the odd, greyish glow around it, a glow that Dumbledore knew to be residual magic.
'Certainly not of the lighter variety at that.'
Dumbledore approached the ruins carefully, tracing The Elder Wand through the air in an elaborate pattern as he went, muttering in a strange language as he did so. As he neared the top of the hill, there was suddenly a shimmer as a barrier of golden light made itself visible for merely a second upon the conclusion of Dumbledore's chanting. He frowned, lightly bringing the very tip of his wand up against the ward before continuing his odd muttering. Several minutes later he sighed, taking from his pocket a silver dagger and promptly slicing his hand, allowing the blood to fall at the edge of the wards.
The golden light flared even brighter than before, and Dumbledore stepped across the ward unharmed, examining the ruins of what must have been, according to his research, The Necromanteion. He walked around the ruins for minutes on end. As he did so, he was muttering, casting, and tracing his wand through the air. He even touching some of the ruins before finally, he smiled, casting a revealing charm on a blank patch of ground to reveal the remains of what looked to have been a wall obstructing a clear path into what appeared to be a man — or magic made ditch of some sort. He raised his wand, lighting its tip and casting light into the crevice where he could see the outline of a stone door leading straight into the hill.
'Quite ingenious for its time.' He thought, rather impressed that a sorcerer who had lived so long ago had managed to ward this place so well.
'It does not bode well.' He noted internally, stepping into the ditch with surprising grace for an old man as he unlocked the door with a flick of his wand.
'That was far too easy. 'Not a strong effort at keeping me out. He must have been rather confident that I would not be able to leave.'
With that cheerful thought, Dumbledore stepped through the door.
The door led into a narrow tunnel that seemed to slope gently downwards forever, with its ceiling supported by pale marble arches. At the end of the tunnel was a massive boulder, seeming to obstruct the way ahead. Dumbledore frowned, not needing magic to know what he had to do. He took out his knife again, cutting his palm for a second time before spattering his blood on the rock, causing it to vanish and for a spiraling staircase to appear behind it. The staircase led him further down into the earth, and the arches suddenly changed from marble to refined black stone.
Dumbledore had to applaud the dark lord from the past. If not for the point me charm, one that had not been invented until over a millennia after Herpo's time, he feared that this trek may have been impossible. The stairs kept splitting into two and three routes, and with the help of the aforementioned charm, Dumbledore spent almost an hour weaving his way through interconnecting tunnels with dusty nitches that may once have held bodies. Finally, Dumbledore reached an archway that looked as if it had been carved from human skulls which, considering who had constructed this place if Mr. Chase had been correct, and by now, he was sure he had been; that was a legitimate possibility.
The empty eye sockets seemed to blink at him, but Dumbledore remained unphased. He could feel the magic emanating from behind the door. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. Dumbledore could hear what sounded like disembodied whispers. He had caught a bit of it earlier but they were stronger now, louder, more insistent, though still not clear enough to truly make out.
As he plunged still deeper underground, the corridors grew wider as the ceilings suddenly became higher. For most men, the space may have served as a reassurance, but for Dumbledore, all that he could think of were the tactical disadvantages of so much empty space and so many blind corners.
"Albus?"
Dumbledore froze for a moment, eyes widening at the voice he had not heard in nearly a century. His mind knew it was a trick, knew that the dead could not possibly rise, but the voice of his sister was one that he had not heard in many years, and he could not help but turn towards the source of it.
He saw nothing, but the voice spoke again.
"You must be better, Albus. You must not fail again."
Dumbledore felt a stab of pain in his chest as he turned in all directions. At first he saw nothing but then, a second later, he saw a flicker somewhere off to his right. He knew it was a trick, knew it was impossible but even so, after a century of waiting, he could not help but call her name in little more than a whisper.
"Ariana?"
From the darkness, a short, slim figure shimmered into existence, looking much like one who had just lifted the disillusionment charm. She looked exactly how Albus remembered her; small and young, with her long, thin blonde hair falling over one shoulder and her eyes, the same deep blue eyes that greeted him every morning in the mirror looking up at him. In the same vein however, she was different, oh so different.
Those eyes held none of the innocence that Dumbledore remembered them containing. Instead, those eyes held within them the shadow of a person who had seen far too much. On the flip side of the coin, she looked physically healthier. She was, at the very least, much less fragile looking in death than she had been in life.
"Albus." She returned, her voice holding no true emotion.
"You are not real," Albus said, his voice shaking in a Most uncharacteristic manner. "You are simply a figment of my imagination. An imprint of the magic manifesting within my head."
Ariana just smiled. "So what if I am in your head? Why would that mean that I am not real." Albus let that sink in. He tried, at least subconsciously, to solidify his Occlumency barriers, to clear his mind, but it was to no avail.
With no mental shields to speak of, Albus felt the dam that had built up inside him for over a hundred years begin to crack and though it terrified him, he could do little more than give in.
"Ariana, I am sorry. I am so, so sorry."
Ariana shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest before her eyes flicked down to the wand that still rested within his shaking hand. "Why?" She asked, suddenly sounding much more like the ever curious child that Albus remembered her as.
"Why?" He asked incredulously. "Ariana, I could provide you with a thousand reasons why. For you, for our mother, for what has become of my relationship with Aberforth…"
"But you got what you wanted in the end." She noted, her voice still completely neutral.
"I do not-"
"Oh Albus, you were always the smart one; you can do better than that." She pointed a dainty hand towards the long, dark wand still shaking within Albus's grasp. "The Death Stick, The Wand of Destiny, of Eternity, The Elder Wand, whatever you like to call it; you are now its true master."
"Ariana, I never-"
"You wanted to rule," she continued, "you were so sure that you knew best." For the first time, her voice slipped just an octave away from true neutrality, a touch of frost creeping into her melodic tones. "You wanted power, you wanted to rule, you wanted control — you have it now."
"Ariana, I do not-"
"Not in the way you dreamed of, but does the minister not refer to you above all others? Do you not influence generation after generation through your school? Do you not do your utmost best to steer the youths of the world towards your greater good?"
"Don't!" Protested Albus, his voice akin to the cry of a wounded animal.
"Don't what?" Ariana asked, her visage of neutrality slipping further and further to the wayside by the moment. "Don't mention the philosophy you crafted alongside that monster?"
"I didn't-"
"Didn't know of Grindelwald's intentions? Didn't know what he would become? Didn't speak of the Hallows knowing full well that the wand meant to him a weapon with which he could strike down any in his way? Did not know that to him, the stone represented little more than an unstoppable, never ending army of inferi?"
"I was a fool!" Conceded Dumbledore, his wand clattering to the floor as tears began to spill down his wrinkled cheeks. "I was a fool who gave into temptation, who gave into the most powerful magic of them all. Grindelwald… he was more to me than you could ever have imagined. I let that vision, more than any other blind me from what was right."
"But you haven't really changed, have you?" Asked Ariana, causing Albus to stagger as if he had been physically struck.
"W-what?"
"You hoarded knowledge like no other. You and Grindelwald turned that knowledge into weapons, weapons for your own greater good." She ignored the horrible flinch that came from her brother. "You have not changed." She reaffirmed. "You understand some magics now better than ever, but you still choose to weaponize them. You still choose to use them for your greater good, even at the expense of a child."
"I do not plan for anything to be at Harry's expense." Albus pleaded with his sister.
"You do not? You wish to weaponize a child. You wish to use the love that saved him as a weapon in and of itself."
"He would be on the frontlines no matter my involvement!" Tried Albus.
"True," conceded Ariana, "but that does not mean he would die at the hands of The Dark Lord."
"He will not," said Albus as confidently as he could manage, "the sacrifice — it will protect him."
Ariana laughed, but the laughter was far colder than Albus ever remembered. "As I said, you have not changed. You still believe yourself cleverer than the rest despite so much evidence to the contrary. You think yourself so high and mighty that you underestimate your foes the same way you underestimated your friend." She shook her head, clear disgust written upon her face. "What will happen when Tom Riddle overcomes that sacrifice? What will happen when Riddle himself seeks to weaponize that branch of magic as well? You know he will; it is in his nature to try."
"He does not understand-"
"No, he does not, but you fail to see the damage he could cause even without that understanding because you refuse to accept that he is as clever as you." She glared at him. "Think on this, Albus, for if you do not, The Dark Lord will not be your only worry, as your own saviour may well turn against you."
"Harry would not-"
"Would not turn against the man who kept secrets from him for years? Not even if those secrets led him into a life or death altercation with his parents' murderer?" She scowled. "A third example of your mistakes. Remember what happened the last time you cared more for a loved ones happiness than their life."
With that dagger, one that caused Albus to fall to his knees, the spirit faded slowly from existence, leaving Albus to sob uncontrollably for several minutes before finally, after slowly calming himself down, he raised his head, grabbed his fallen wand, and slowly clambered his way back up to his feet.
'Perhaps he did come close to raising the dead?'
He advanced forwards into a rather ominous room. Tunnels led off in every direction but it was the floor that caught his attention and warranted his disgust. It was hune together from countless human bones and priceless gems, all twisted together to form a smooth, mosaic like surface.
He made to cast the point me spell again, but before he could, he felt an unmistakable feeling of impending danger as suddenly, the room was crawling with a magic that he had indeed felt before. Magic he had felt only once in person, and that had been within the walls of Nurmengard on that fateful day all those years ago.
'Well, the trap has been sprung.'
From every tunnel marched what appeared to be hundreds of walking corpses, though Dumbledore knew they were far more than they appeared. He brandished his wand, sending a wall of red hot flames billowing towards the nearest herd of them but they did not so much as slow down. The old sorcerer's eyes went wide as he tried again, poring more magic into the spell, but he still only managed to achieve the same result. With the thoughts of Nurmengard on his mind, he pulled from his arsenal a spell that he had never thought he would see again; one that had been used against him and his allies quite frequently during the war, and one that he, in his youthful ignorance he had helped to create.
"Imperium Caeli!"
He slashed his wand towards the nearest heard of them, causing a faint visible distortion in the air as the very element solidified and cleaved the herd clean in two, slicing through one after another as if the air was a knife being sliced through butter. He felt the Elder Wand tremble in his grasp, as if it were a child on a sugar rush who wanted more.
'It wishes to be unleashed.'
Unfortunately, the inferi began to mend instantly. Dumbledore knew that if he used the more powerful variant of the spell, literally moulding the element into a weapon with a singular purpose, he could likely do so much damage they could never mend. He knew also though that if he took this course of action, the drain on his magic may very well leave him unconscious. Not even Gellert at his boldest had used such a spell without being certain it would be the last bit of magic he would have to cast. There was only one other option he could think of, and he hated himself for the very idea of using it; for he had sworn so many years ago he would never let such magics tempt him again.
'It is the only way.' He decided grimly. 'I am sorry Ariana, the method is crude, but I shall not fail you.
"FIENDFYRE!" He roared, thrusting The Elder Wand into the air and feeling power the likes of which he had not experienced in years flow through his arm as the wand rejoiced at its freedom. Finally its leash had been cut after all these years. Finally, it was being allowed to do what it was created to do in the first place— cause utter death and destruction.
The emerald green flames billowed from the wand. They seemed to cackle as they did so, swirling in the air in front of him as they began to consume the inferi surrounding him. Slowly and deliberately, the fire correlessed into the visage of a phoenix as it burned away every last trace of the undead that had littered the room and the tunnels moments earlier. Dumbledore could feel the floor crumbling underneath him as the fire burned away at the bone that had crafted it. Taking a risk, Dumbledore directed the fire straight at the floor, slashing his wand to dispel the flames at the last moment as the surface on which he stood collapsed, prompting him to hastily cast Arresto Momentum and land softly on the floor of a far different, far more ornate room a moment later.
'At last.'
The walls were encrusted with gems and no tunnels led off of this room. It was low ceilinged and rather plain looking aside from the priceless gems that adorned the walls and of course, the golden coffin that stood on a raised pedestal in the center of the room. Dumbledore sighed, flicking his wand and causing the coffin to open, revealing the still pristine body of a rather serpentine looking man with a small, leather bound scroll clasped between his hands and resting on his chest.
Authors Endnote:
Well, that was an interesting chapter that went in a direction I doubt anybody anticipated.
If you have read the Percy Jackson and The Olympians and more particularly, The Heroes of Olympus series, you will recognize this chapter as being crafted around the location that the climax of the fourth book in the latter series took place in.
I own none of it of course; that setting is the exclusive property of Rick Riordan.
This will NEVER be a crossover of any sort, I just liked the idea and thought it could tie fairly well into the story.
Bonus points if anyone can guess where the whole Herpo The Foul thing is going.
Please read and review.
PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, March 15th 2020 and approximately 3:00 PM EST.
