Hi there! thanks for checking out this story!

A few disclaimers before we begin:

1. This is a fix/rewrite of the story in The Cursed Child (the plot will draw from the play, at least initially, but there will be no Delphi/time travel, out of character behaviour, etc.). Though it may seem like I'm just "copying" the Cursed Child trust me I am not. This is a new story that is meant to fix/replace it and it will be similar in some ways but very different in others.

2. I have added a few new characters to the mix.

3. Without spoiling: don't assume anything because you've watched/read the play and don't trust everything you read. The story is meant to deliver the perspective of the POV character in each chapter. This is a mystery book so don't take things at face value!

3. All the rights to the Harry Potter/Wizarding World franchise belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Entertainment. I do not claim any rights to the characters, locations, descriptions, etc. presented in this work which are not of my own invention. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fanfiction and all in good fun.


Chapter One – The Duel in the Desert

He was pulled into a suffocating whirlpool of colour and sound. The young wizard had yanked him forcefully and suddenly into it. The bald man tried to pull away, but the young man's grip was too strong for him to break. When they finally landed, the taste of sand and salty earth had filled his mouth. He got up slowly, taking in his surroundings with squinted eyes. It was blindingly bright and very hot. The snake-faced man was surrounded by towering red sandstone buttes, yellow sands, and tall cacti which sprouted from the ground over great distances. He was not in Massachusetts anymore.

'Do you like it here?' asked the young wizard, 'I figured we should move our little duel to a safer location, so I apparated us to Arizona.'

He scoffed at his opponent. It mattered not where he had chosen to die.

'So noble of you to make sure I do not harm innocent bystanders or any of your little MACUSA friends,' uttered Mortedigne.

'Oh, do not assume I am overconcerned for the safety of my peers, Guillaume,' said the wizard, 'I merely brought us here so I could duel you with no interruption. You see, Guillaume, I am going to kill you today.'

As he said these words, he sounded calm and polite, yet his eyes were burning with fury. And, for the first time that day, Mortedigne felt nervous and angry. It was not only for the cheek of using his common forename but for the fact that this insultingly young wizard had held his own against him. He, Mortedigne, the greatest wizard since Voldemort himself. The man who had walked the path of the Dark Lord so closely, only to have his Horcruxes destroyed by those meddling Aurors and this young man, this boy.

Of course, he had not dared set foot in Britain. Potter and his cronies were always on alert when it came to dark wizards. His native France had been the base of his operations. His ever-growing army of supporters, some of them fresh out of Beauxbatons, had all flocked to him as the man who would finally rid this world of mudbloods, traitors, and muggles. But those British Aurors were constantly at his heels. It seemed Potter was on the lookout for any signs of a would-be-Voldemort, even beyond his home country. He was forced to flee to America, where he first encountered this boy; another Briton, those did seem to take the most offence to his brand of magic. Yet this one was different, he appeared to be unbothered, and even bored at times, by the crimes Mortedigne had committed. He and his merry band of youngsters had stripped him of his final two Horcruxes with an alarming ease. He would not have it. This boy, barely four years out of Hogwarts, had humiliated him for the last time.

'You would stoop so low, for me?' asked Mortedigne, 'Only because I killed your little friend?'.

'Precisely,' said the wizard.

And with one quick flick of his wand, he sent a pillar of flames raging toward Mortedigne, who quickly turned the pillar into water and aimed it back at its original conjurer. The wizard sent it back as an enormous black snake and Mortedigne had to quickly dive out of its way. He sent a Killing Curse at the wizard but, as he did before, he blocked it with relative ease. A bright screen of light red and gold was conjured from between his hand and his wand and, as the Killing Curse hit it, it shattered, and the wizard stumbled backwards slightly. Mortedigne laughed his cold high laugh.

'This is amazing! I have never seen anything like it! You block the Killing Curse as if it were nothing at all!' he said.

'A charm of my own invention. Inspired by the curious case of Harry Potter,' said the young man as he aimed another curse at his opponent. Mortedigne blocked it and proceeded to scream 'Crucio!'. The wizard jumped aside and aimed another stream of fire at Mortedigne, who apparated out of the way and behind the wizard. The wizard caught on quickly and turned around to face him again as Mortedigne sent another Killing Curse at him.

'Blocked again! You'll need to start getting more creative if you want to have a chance at defeating me you cheap, snivelling, off-brand Voldemort imitation!' he yelled.

Mortedigne let out a scream of anger as he sent a jet of rubble and sand at the wizard, who turned it to a swarm of bees which sped back at Mortedigne. He sprang out a wall of fire to block the coming horde. The wizard appeared out of the flames and yelled 'Diffindo!'. Mortedigne blocked it as the young man advanced on him slashing his wand furiously and with amazing speed. They duelled fiercely as the sun sank to their west. Neither could overcome the other, their wands slashing the hot air with such speed that they were barely visible. The two wizards bellowed curses at each other which lit the desert air like wildfire. The boy kept taunting him as they battled. He was getting angry at this arrogant fool; it was time to end this.

'Let's see if you can block that shall we?!' he called and screamed the incantation. A huge jet of intensely hot flames shot out of his wand. Fiendfyre was encircling the wizard, taking the shapes of giant dragons, snakes, and manticores. The wizard smiled and disapparated from within the flames, just as they were about to engulf him. A flood of excitement washed over Mortedigne. He fell for it. Mortedigne turned around immediately and screamed 'Confringo!'.

He had caught the wizard by surprise. The young man had barely the time to conjure a rock to block the blasting curse. He was shot many feet into the air and backwards into the side of a butte which shattered as his body rammed through it with force. Mortedigne laughed again.

'I know you are still alive boy! You will not fool me into false confidence! Show yourself at once and face your death with courage!' he yelled.

Nothing happened. Could it be? After all this amazing display of talent, that a simple blasting curse did away with this magnificent opponent? No, there was some trick here. Something wasn't right; his obnoxious opponent did not go silent for no reason...

'It seems…' called a voice from behind the massive rock, 'that we've almost reached the conclusion of our battle.' The wizard turned from behind the butte. His left arm was shattered, bloody, and badly burned. He had bruises, cuts, and burns all over his body. His right arm, though still holding his wand, was trembling violently.

'Ah, you've finally come to face death like a man, I see. Come here now, boy, I will make it quick,' said Mortedigne.

'You've been an admirable opponent, the best I've had so far if I'm honest. Shame it must end like this. And yet, you killed Alex,' said the wizard.

'What are you talking about?!' demanded Mortedigne. This final bit of insolence took him by surprise.

'Well, I didn't want to do that you see, it is a dreadful bit of magic after-all,' said the young man calmly.

Mortedigne opened his mouth to speak again, yet whatever he had to say in retort was completely banished by the shocking sight ahead. As the young wizard raised his wand with what seemed like horribly painful effort, a gigantic ball of bright blue energy had appeared from behind the rock to his right. It looked as if he had imprisoned a lightning bolt inside a clear cage which stirred and shifted ferociously. It could barely be contained.

As he was staring at this monstrous sight, Mortedigne felt a strong, scalding hot tag at the bottoms of his feet. His own Fiendfyre was holding him tightly in place. He could not move, he could not disapparate without severing his own limbs. Panicking, he summoned all the energy, courage, and rage he had within him and screamed 'AVADA KEDAVRA!'.

However, even before the curse could travel a few feet, the gigantic ball of light was upon him. And then, a fleeting sensation of horrible, searing pain, and he was nothing at all.

He was pulled into a suffocating whirlpool of colour and sound. The young wizard had yanked him forcefully and suddenly into it. The bald man tried to pull away, but the young man's grip was too strong for him to break. When they finally landed, the taste of sand and salty earth had filled his mouth. He got up slowly, taking in his surroundings with squinted eyes. It was blindingly bright and very hot. The snake-faced man was surrounded by towering red sandstone buttes, yellow sands, and tall cacti which sprouted from the ground over great distances. He was not in Massachusetts anymore.

'Do you like it here?' asked the young wizard, 'I figured we should move our little duel to a safer location, so I apparated us to Arizona.'

He scoffed at his opponent. It mattered not where he had chosen to die.

'So noble of you to make sure I do not harm innocent bystanders or any of your little MACUSA friends,' uttered Mortedigne.

'Oh, do not assume I am overconcerned for the safety of my peers, Guillaume,' said the wizard, 'I merely brought us here so I could duel you with no interruption. You see, Guillaume, I am going to kill you today.'

As he said these words, he sounded calm and polite, yet his eyes were burning with fury. And, for the first time that day, Mortedigne felt nervous and angry. It was not only for the cheek of using his common forename but for the fact that this insultingly young wizard had held his own against him. He, Mortedigne, the greatest wizard since Voldemort himself. The man who had walked the path of the Dark Lord so closely, only to have his Horcruxes destroyed by those meddling Aurors and this young man, this boy.

Of course, he had not dared set foot in Britain. Potter and his cronies were always on alert when it came to dark wizards. His native France had been the base of his operations. His ever-growing army of supporters, some of them fresh out of Beauxbatons, had all flocked to him as the man who would finally rid this world of mudbloods, traitors, and muggles. But those British Aurors were constantly at his heels. It seemed Potter was on the lookout for any signs of a would-be-Voldemort, even beyond his home country. He was forced to flee to America, where he first encountered this boy; another Briton, those did seem to take the most offence to his brand of magic. Yet this one was different, he appeared to be unbothered, and even bored at times, by the crimes Mortedigne had committed. He and his merry band of youngsters had stripped him of his final two Horcruxes with an alarming ease. He would not have it. This boy, barely four years out of Hogwarts, had humiliated him for the last time.

'You would stoop so low, for me?' asked Mortedigne, 'Only because I killed your little friend?'.

'Precisely,' said the wizard.

And with one quick flick of his wand, he sent a pillar of flames raging toward Mortedigne, who quickly turned the pillar into water and aimed it back at its original conjurer. The wizard sent it back as an enormous black snake and Mortedigne had to quickly dive out of its way. He sent a Killing Curse at the wizard but, as he did before, he blocked it with relative ease. A bright screen of light red and gold was conjured from between his hand and his wand and, as the Killing Curse hit it, it shattered, and the wizard stumbled backwards slightly. Mortedigne laughed his cold high laugh.

'This is amazing! I have never seen anything like it! You block the Killing Curse as if it were nothing at all!' he said.

'A charm of my own invention. Inspired by the curious case of Harry Potter,' said the young man as he aimed another curse at his opponent. Mortedigne blocked it and proceeded to scream 'Crucio!'. The wizard jumped aside and aimed another stream of fire at Mortedigne, who apparated out of the way and behind the wizard. The wizard caught on quickly and turned around to face him again as Mortedigne sent another Killing Curse at him.

'Blocked again! You'll need to start getting more creative if you want to have a chance at defeating me you cheap, snivelling, off-brand Voldemort imitation!' he yelled.

Mortedigne let out a scream of anger as he sent a jet of rubble and sand at the wizard, who turned it to a swarm of bees which sped back at Mortedigne. He sprang out a wall of fire to block the coming horde. The wizard appeared out of the flames and yelled 'Diffindo!'. Mortedigne blocked it as the young man advanced on him slashing his wand furiously and with amazing speed. They duelled fiercely as the sun sank to their west. Neither could overcome the other, their wands slashing the hot air with such speed that they were barely visible. The two wizards bellowed curses at each other which lit the desert air like wildfire. The boy kept taunting him as they battled. He was getting angry at this arrogant fool; it was time to end this.

'Let's see if you can block that shall we?!' he called and screamed the incantation. A huge jet of intensely hot flames shot out of his wand. Fiendfyre was encircling the wizard, taking the shapes of giant dragons, snakes, and manticores. The wizard smiled and disapparated from within the flames, just as they were about to engulf him. A flood of excitement washed over Mortedigne. He fell for it. Mortedigne turned around immediately and screamed 'Confringo!'.

He had caught the wizard by surprise. The young man had barely the time to conjure a rock to block the blasting curse. He was shot many feet into the air and backwards into the side of a butte which shattered as his body rammed through it with force. Mortedigne laughed again.

'I know you are still alive boy! You will not fool me into false confidence! Show yourself at once and face your death with courage!' he yelled.

Nothing happened. Could it be? After all this amazing display of talent, that a simple blasting curse did away with this magnificent opponent? No, there was some trick here. Something wasn't right; his obnoxious opponent did not go silent for no reason...

'It seems…' called a voice from behind the massive rock, 'that we've almost reached the conclusion of our battle.' The wizard turned from behind the butte. His left arm was shattered, bloody, and badly burned. He had bruises, cuts, and burns all over his body. His right arm, though still holding his wand, was trembling violently.

'Ah, you've finally come to face death like a man, I see. Come here now, boy, I will make it quick,' said Mortedigne.

'You've been an admirable opponent, the best I've had so far if I'm honest. Shame it must end like this. And yet, you killed Alex,' said the wizard.

'What are you talking about?!' demanded Mortedigne. This final bit of insolence took him by surprise.

'Well, I didn't want to do that you see, it is a dreadful bit of magic after-all,' said the young man calmly.

Mortedigne opened his mouth to speak again, yet whatever he had to say in retort was completely banished by the shocking sight ahead. As the young wizard raised his wand with what seemed like horribly painful effort, a gigantic ball of bright blue energy had appeared from behind the rock to his right. It looked as if he had imprisoned a lightning bolt inside a clear cage which stirred and shifted ferociously. It could barely be contained.

As he was staring at this monstrous sight, Mortedigne felt a strong, scalding hot tag at the bottoms of his feet. His own Fiendfyre was holding him tightly in place. He could not move, he could not disapparate without severing his own limbs. Panicking, he summoned all the energy, courage, and rage he had within him and screamed 'AVADA KEDAVRA!'.

However, even before the curse could travel a few feet, the gigantic ball of light was upon him. And then, a fleeting sensation of horrible, searing pain, and he was nothing at all.