I do not own anything, except my own storyline and OC's, Just FYI.
Magic radiated off him. His teeth clenched, fists at his sides, jaw tightened. His eyes were swirling pools of fiery emerald green. Robes torn and goblets floating as he entered the Great Hall. Raising his hand, the offenders went into the air from accidental magic unleashed from his whirlwind of moods, holding their necks as his emotions blinded him. They deserved this. Deserved his punishment. Swiping his arm to the side, his chosen crumpled to the ground, gasping for air they did not earn.
Stomping up to the large table at the front, his steely glare fixed on Dumbledore's faltering smile, twinkle gone as he turned carefully to the man's left. Raising his wand, gone was the boy who had looked upon him in curiosity. Here, here, was a slighted man, one who'd been hurt through someone he cared about and wanted, no, needed revenge. But that would not lead anywhere pleasant. The Headmaster stood, his Deputy joining him as they attempted to stun the young boy.
To their surprise and horror, it never touched him as his rage met with the Charms Professor, and with a simple flick of his apprentice's wand, a formal duel was announced. Leaving nobody a chance to process all that had begun, the one he'd looked upon as a son began casting. Speed and experience were on his side, but they only compensated so much. The power was deafening, swirling around the boy as mercy was not had, and a barrier erected, more to prevent the professor from escaping than someone interfering.
With a swipe of his wand, Flitwick's was stolen, and everybody couldn't believe the sight as Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Light's Champion, Dumbledore's Apprentice, Heir of Slytherin, raised his wand, hand steady, towards his foe, bringing the older man to him in fury and pain.
'Harry, please, stop! Now! I beg of you!' Severus Snape, the one who bowed to naught but the two mightiest men, called out to him, begging the boy he'd been an Uncle to, not to continue in this course of action. It'd destroy him forever, and Severus could not let that happen.
'But they hurt her! He deserves this! He let it happen!' Tears flowed down his cheeks as darkness clouded his eyes, remembering her injuries. He looked upon the broken man beside him, trying desperately to keep from tearing himself apart. But as he looked upon Flitwick once more, he finally decided what to do.
1 Hour Earlier-
Daphne Greengrass was walking down the corridor, mind clouded as she thought upon recent events. Her betrothed, Harry Potter, the one she held a crush upon and was so happy when it had been announced they were to be wed, was a Pariah.
Few dared to go near him, as only his closest friends stayed. Despite Draconus and Ronald attempting to befriend him lately, she'd been surprised when they took his side. Both seemed to prefer the spotlight, and Harry took it away from them. She supposed that was because they had been learning true loyalty.
His power had been intoxicating lately, as he was on the verge of breaking. She longed for the day he'd finally give in and just be himself, rather than bottle it all up and let the fools hurt him. He didn't deserve that, nobody deserved that. Daphne surmised it would merely take a few more insults before he began hurling hexes at all those around him.
She thought back to his appearance. Tall, ordered, and untamable black hair, with an athletic body that she imagined had become of several morning runs, and watching his diet, to a certain degree. Square glasses that helped illuminate his eyes, yet holding back a shine that would intimidate the most powerful. And a darkness that had been growing steadily ever since the school's betrayal and claiming of his Lordships.
She walked up the steps of the dungeon, and met with the others. Blushing lightly at Harry's appearance, she simply held her books tighter and they moved to their next class, Herbology. They'd been working on Mandrakes, and they were nearly ready for harvest and use in the potions to reverse the petrifactions. They were held in greenhouse 3, and she enjoyed it. There was a reason her family were named Greengrass, their ancestors had been very successful gardeners, as such they seemed to have an affinity for plants.
As they entered the glass construct, with a long bench centered in the middle with several pots dug into the thick wood for plants, and smaller ones along the sides to sit. The sun shined through, almost blinding for a second, and it was quite warm since the cold air was kept out. She levitated the fertilizer and tools needed, sitting down with Liz as they began repotting their Mandrake, everyone's earmuffs on.
As such, she missed when Sprout took away the plant from Harry, reprimanded him and took 50 points. The Ravenclaw glared, but just got up and left, bag in hand. Trip was confused though, questioning what he was supposed to do. The Professor immediately softened and handed him the mandrake, which he began repotting, still unsure as to why Harry had been forced to leave, since he'd been unable to hear the conversation.
Overall it had been a good half-hour, and as they left early, Daphne went looking for her crush as Liz and Trip repacked and put everything away, telling her to catch up with the boy and talk him down. So she was climbing the steps to Ravenclaw Tower, answering the simple riddle and walking along the carpeted floor. He was brooding in a corner, seemingly repeating a mantra. Smiling, she decided he needed a good awakening.
'I, am Harry Potermius. I survived the Dursleys, Killed Quirinus Quirrell, Became an Animagus, raised a Dragon and Phoenix from their birth, I-'
'Became the Heir of Slytherin and petrified several students.' Suddenly, Daphne felt fear wash over her as he turned towards her, seemingly ready to kill. But when he saw it was her, his eyes widened and he stood, quickly sprinting away as she was stunned by his reaction. Racing after him, she came to a complete stop at the sight before her.
Luna Lovegood, a bloodied mess who she only believed to be breathing from the faint rise and fall of her chest. Her nose was dripping, twisted at an odd angle and broken, hair missing patches, robes torn, arms broken and leg twisted forward. She was in a far worse state than Trip and Draconus when they had been attacked, which she attributed to them actually having the ability to defend themselves and constant vigilance.
She had a black eye, was missing a tooth which lay on the ground some distance away and a large gash was present on her side, demonstrating her muscle gained from skipping. Daphne cried as Harry fell to his knees, carefully picking her up. His magic was suffocating and she just about choked, as the boy began his trek to the Hospital Wing at a pace she couldn't fathom; Fast enough to prevent her from keeping up, but slow enough it didn't injure the girl in his arms any more.
'Mr Potter, what's happ- Oh my! Quickly, onto the bed! Grab blood replenishing potions and skele-gro! Now!' The Matron yelled as she looked over her ward, casting diagnostic charms 3 a second, doing her absolute best to heal the girl. Harry had long since sprinted to the cabinet as Daphne stood there in horror, unable to figure out what to do. It was horrible, gruesome, and she knew the perpetrators would wish for death.
While not exactly close to Lovegood, the girl had always seemed cheerful and upbeat, if not a little strange. But this… this was disgusting. Who would do that to a little girl, and likely simply because she stood by her friend!? She watched as Harry looked into Luna's eyes, who'd woken up, crying in pain and terror as she tried desperately to keep her friend from learning the identity of her assaulters, to prevent his revenge. But he'd not be deterred, and, once satisfied, Daphne could sweat the very air vibrated with power.
This… It was what she both longed for, and feared beyond belief. Harry Poterimus-Black, unleashed. It squeezed her and eyes widened from her and the other two occupants as they realised, if this was him now, what did that mean for the future? Suddenly, she was incredibly grateful he wasn't her enemy, for he was like a God and her an ant, nothing worth even looking at.
He stormed from the room and after sharing quick glances, seeing Pomfrey had Luna handled, she tip-toed out, walking slowly as Harry's pace far outmatched hers, walking to the Great Hall.
—-
Dropping the professor, he took the earned victory, cutting the barrier and summoned his chosen, taking their wands and snapping them. He looked into their eyes, torturing their minds with the worst memories he could imagine, their sanity on the verge of snapping when a warm hand rested on his shoulder.
Releasing his hold, he turned back to the owner of the hand, and saw Dumbledore. The Headmaster was an aged wizard, that much was clear more now than before, as he looked down with apprehension, fear, slight pride, and hope. Harry nodded to the man, resheathed his wand, and acquiesced to his request, lowering his head, and apologising to Flitwick for his outburst. To his surprise, the professor laughed.
'Oh, Mr Potter, do not apologise! It is I who must do so, I never really could do much for Ms Lovegood, but now I can expel these fools! Thank you. I do hope our meeting this Saturday will go on?' He nodded quietly as Flitwick levitated the perpetrators away while Dumbledore spoke to the stunned Hall.
'I warned you of what such behaviours would bring, and it seems some of you chose to ignore this. I did this not for you, but for the vengeance Mr Potter would bring. Let this be a warning to you all, do not attack one through their friends. Because you may just see that they'll come for you with a power far too great to ever believe. Revenge is a tremendous motivator. Now, go off to class!' There was no warmth held in his voice as he spoke, even a slight frostiness had made it's way in as he hurried off to see Luna, bright purple robes trailing behind him.
—-
It was when the congo line of spiders were leaving through the ceiling that Harry knew something was wrong. They were as much a part of the castle as the floor and the walls, always found somewhere, under desks, on your socks. Yet he'd noticed quite quickly Hogwarts was slowly growing devoid of them, and it disturbed him. They had been among his only friends when he was younger, and if something was scaring them, those which brought fear in the most terrible of humans, he knew whatever was causing the petrifactions was not any wizard or witch.
So the obvious and most immediate place to travel was the library. While it was far from perfect as he hardly had access to the truly dark books, which didn't even dive very deep into the most interesting areas, it was a start. He needed to find out what sort of creature could cause petrifactions, scare spiders and was something Salazar Slytherin would be interested in. The most obvious answer would be some form of snake.
With this figured out, he asked for and received permission to enter the Restricted section under the guise of dueling spells. He only got one shot at this, since otherwise they'd figure out that he really wasn't going there for more spells(As his repertoire would have increased more obviously) so he decided once he had an idea of what he wanted, he would look. Once looking through the dusty shelves in the dark section that created the perfect atmosphere for evil, he slid his fingertips along as he glazed over each title. None of them seemed remotely interesting, nor helpful.
It was on the third to last bookcase he found what he was looking for. Just about to give up, there was a title that read 'Evil Beasts and how to Avoid Them' by Marcus Scamander, the famous Newt's nephew. While it detailed several species, only a few caught his eye. Most notably, the Acromantula, the Naga, Basilisk, and Icelandic Iceater.
'The Acromantula is a truly deadly beast, originating from the congo. It is a Giant Spider, with eight hairy legs, six glowing red eyes and a large hairy body. It's fangs drip with poison that it pierces the victims caught in it's mandibles with. I've personally witnessed several deaths at their hands, and note that there are few weak points. Blinding it is useless, due to the fact they can only see through two of them and it is impossible to guess which, added onto the fact that they naturally grow blind and have long since developed defences against this.
When attacking such a dangerous creature, three things must be kept in mind. The first- They are sentient, and the very oldest may even speak. If you are careful, you might even escape a lair unharmed, though this has only occurred twice in their entire existence, and solely by promising to provide it more food. The second- It's weak points are solely the connecting area of the thorax and head, as well as the joints in the legs.
The final piece of advice- Never enter a nest if it can be avoided. To destroy even one requires a well practiced wizard, and should it be at its prime, it might take five powerful witches or wizards to kill it. The only creature it fears is the Basilisk, for a feud long written of occurred, nearly wiping them out. Of course, thanks to an evil ritual their sole competitors were slain, and they thrive more than ever nowadays.'
'The Naga is fearsome and dangerous, told in stories for millenium. While the Acromantula appeared solely 10,000 years ago and insulated until bred by Homo Magi, the Naga is found all around the world, from Norway and the Vikings World Serpent, Africa, from whence it derived its name. The power is well-categorized, and the older, the more dangerous.
Holding a deadly stare, it will kill with merely a glance of an eye, and many who've sought infamy have fallen to it's glare. The Naga wields fire-breath, sharing this trait solely with the Dragon to whom it is believed to share a common ancestor. The fire it breathes has been said to melt metals, be faster than Elder Fire, and more potent than Fiendfyre.
The final weapon in its arsenal, with the exception of unbreakable scales, is a large stinger at the end of its tail. With a lack of fangs and venom, it appears to have been compensated with poison, who's power and deadlines have been compared to the Basilisk's own venom. My sole recommendation is to keep away from any possible lair, despite having said to have died out several hundred years ago, there might be stragglers left, though if there are, all they do is prevent the inevitable extinction. The Naga is far too dangerous to let live.'
'The Basilisk is by far the most powerful snake to have ever lived. It's stared needs but a glimpse of the edge of an eye, with fangs longer than a grown man and venom so potent it's only possible remedy is Phoenix Tears, though it is so fast-acting there was never been a true test, due to the fact the patient dies before it might be administered.
But none of these compare to it's most incredible asset- unlimited growth. The oldest recorded Basilisk was two thousand years old, at an astounding hundred and forty meters. The most fascinating fact is that it hadn't finished growing. It is unknown if it may ever have a full size, though it is theorized due to the nature of its creation and very unstable magic, the Basilisk has no full size.
The thought goes that if you were to place The King Of Snakes, as it is well known, in a room for eternity, it would eventually break out of the room, and simply continue in it's growth. Some even believe it is the cause of the World-Serpent legends, rather than the Naga. That at one time it was bred, and grew to such a size it encircled the entire world. If this is true, we just hope it's dead, for that would mean it has likely become large enough to swallow the Earth whole. And with the real Thor dead, it is not an exciting prospect.
In the end, however, the Basilisk may be the most and yet least dangerous species on this list. For unlike all the others, it might be tamed. Should you somehow gain possession of an egg and hatch it, a companion with no match will be born, whose loyalty must never be questioned and would die for it's master, with it's impenetrable scales by even the Killing Curse making such a prospect near impossible. Some even believe it might pass on it's loyalty to the wizards line, while others believe once it's master has fallen, it shall do so as well. None have ever been recorded long enough to test the accuracies.'
'If there is any creature alive or dead you must avoid, it is the Icelandic Iceater. It will hunt down humans if slighted, and none have ever been seen in the flesh. The size is said to rival a mountain, and so long as not disturbed, it will be a near-docile creature. The issue being, if your eyes hold even the slightest hint evil in it's presence, the beast will kill you. As a result, no one has ever been near one, viewed it's form and lived, especially with it's unique ability to apparate, once thought to only be found in Homo Magi.
For finality, with near-no information truly recorded, nothing more may be said.'
Harry slammed the book shut, considering each one. The Acromantula was out, only used as an idea for what might frighten some of the oldest species in existence. The Ice eater was without a doubt not it, as the creature supposedly ate it's victims, and was far too large to exist in the castle. All that left was the Naga and the Basilisk.
The creature in the castle might be a remnant of the once great Naga empire, housed and kept safe by Slytherin, which also happened to apply to the Basilisk, who had also been devastated to likely extinction. The most glaring issue was that each was thought completely wiped out. Causing petrification was easy- nobody had ever experimented on their glare, so who could say what effect it might have on someone, indirect, not looking on purpose, etc.
For now, he decided there were too many variables and not enough evidence. It was at this point either Naga or Basilisk, and he really wasn't sure. He needed sleep, and could think this over in the morning. So walking into a new abandoned classroom, he transfigured everything and slept in the most comfy bed so far.
—-
As Harry entered Flitwick's classroom for dueling, the changes were immediately noticeable. Desks were pressed against the wall as a platform stood at the center. He walked up, and immdeiately ducked as a spell flew over his head. Turning around, he began casting curses, unleashing his least harmful, fastest, yet also most varied hexes, before his wand flew from his hand.
The last time he'd beaten the short professor was when his blind rage controlled him, here it was just calm and focused, which while useful when skilled and experienced, did nothing for the novice that his anger did. Power flew through him in those moments. So, admitting his defeat, he bowed to the half-goblin, who began to speak.
'Dueling is an ancient art form, dating back to the Greeks. The ability to test one's skill, knowledge and power against another was an exciting prospect. As times went by, it continued, growing in infamy and prestige. By the time of the 1800's, to be a dueling champion was what Dumbledore is now. Unfortunately, the Witch Hunts began.
Many say that none were killed, but that is foolish. They simply want to believe we are infallible, when in fact our power and hubris make us even more vulnerable. It reduced our population severely, which only lessened even more after the War with Grindelwald. Of course, you know that it then quickly picked up speed once more, at an incredible rate, but I digress.' The professor took a second to catch his breath, and Harry looked him over. The man's robes were small, and tight against his body, presumably for greater mobility. His glasses were missing, and his appearance screamed skilled wizard.
'With these deaths, a large amount of knowledge was lost of many aspects of magic we are only rediscovering now. Dueling is rising again, but for a long time they were pariahs as those strengths did not correspond well with muggles, as such they had to run away more than not, which resulted in even more death. You are here to learn from my skill and experience, to become a new Dueling Champion. To help the title regain its infamy. So every saturday at six, we will train for four hours non-stop until you can defeat me.' He paused, and looked at Harry in the eyes, making sure the boy was serious about pursuing this.
'You did wonderfully for your first duel. But you must understand something. I have taken you as my True Apprentice, my last. There can be no tomfoolery, and you must be strong. I've selected you because I see potential that must not be squandered, and believe one day you will surpass Albus Dumbldore, Tom Riddle, Voldemort, and Sheev Palpatine. So ready yourself, and if you cannot take this, walk out that door right now. Don't make me waste my time because you are unwilling to work hard.' He pointed towards the door, which the boy didn't even glance at, staring into his professor's eyes with all his might, and taking a great sigh, the man smiled, Harry smirked, as they began.
—-
Hermione was petrified. Penelope Clearwater as well, but that didn't matter. Not right now. Any other time, he might have grieved for the girl, such a promising mind frozen until the mandrakes restoration draughts were finished, but his friend had been frozen. Probably his best friend, the one who knew him the best, could read his emotions, as they spent so much time in the library studying together. A deep-seeded rage filled him, as he knew what he had to do.
Unleashing his wand, he walked up to the second floor where the messages had been written. Entering Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, he steeled himself. It had to be connected to the diary, why else had someone stolen it from McGonagall's office, as he had overheard? Everyone knew not to mess with him, so clearly it was a fool who didn't realize what they had just done.
'Myrtle? How did you die?' He looked the girl in the eyes, whom he had met at the Deathday party and occasionally visited, with no humor held. Unfortunately, the girl began crying.
'Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! Nobody has ever asked how I died!' The ghost wailed, and Harry looked uncomfortable. He had no idea what to do.
'Please, Myrtle, just tell me how you died.'
'Oh, thank you so much! I-I was over in that stall, this mean girl, Olive, had insulted me, and I was crying. I heard a voice in the bathroom, it sounded like a boy, so I went to tell him off, he was talking in this weird hissy language, you see, and I opened the stall door, and died. I was just dead.' She looked entertained to finally say this, and the other Ravenclaw in the room thought it over.
'Where did you look?' Myrtle pointed towards the sinks, and he quickly walked around them, looking for some sign of Slytherin, inspecting every detail.
After his fifth lap, he saw a small marking on the side, so minuscule only the most detail oriented person could have seen it. Hell, it might have taken Hermione days to discover it. As he studied the inscription, he whispered to himself, ~How do you open, damnit!?~. When it suddenly pulled back, he was surprised. Heck, the boy hadn't even noticed that he'd spoken Parseltongue until he was finished. Looking down the tunnel, he gulped, this may be his last journey ever.
Steeling himself, Harry raised his wand, casting the light charm, jumped and slid down the tunnel.
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