Chapter 16: The Fall and Changes
A/N: Got a new laptop after 6 years...finally. It's a Predator Helios 300 and I'm still getting used to its rather insensitive keyboard. On another note, finally seeing a specialist about my eye next week...so, if you spot a mistake PM me and I'll fix it.
It took three full hours for the glow of excess magic that was pouring of his skin, like a heat haze in the middle of the desert, to fade and slightly more than two for Hermione. When it did, they appeared even further from human than they had before.
They had each grown three inches in height and their skin tone was slightly golden brown (though only very slightly so you would have to be looking for it or be very close to them to notice) rather than simply white. It was almost as if they had a constant light tan and as if they had spent a few weeks somewhere exotic.
Their eyes seem to almost glow with magic and life, their hair seemed to catch any source of light as if it was drawn to them. Their voices had grown smoother as well, closer to the smooth nature of phoenix song rather than the natural inelegance of the human voice.
Their changes hadn't been simply skin deep or a matter of beauty though and, frankly, it would have been a simple matter if they were.
When they moved they did so with a natural grace that even Veela couldn't match. When their feet landed on the ground it was far more lightly than nature should allow and when they ran it was with the speed of a fleeing deer.
Their mental changes, if there were any, were yet to be fully realised by either of them and no one else would be able to accurately judge the changes in them anyway.
In short, every cell in their body had been permanently changed. They were less humans with magic and now more magic barely restrained by the flesh that housed it in a physical form.
Both had privately agreed that the idea of Harry ever draining any more magic nearly terrified them and that, short of any other option, he would try and avoid it at all costs. This realisation came about not so much because of the obvious changes themselves but, because whatever was happening to them didn't scare them when logically they knew it should.
So, paradoxically, they felt about two steps away from terror over it.
The reactions to their changes by everyone else had been surprisingly muted by comparison. In all fairness, the army that they were a part of had been through hell already and simply seemed resigned to whatever was happening and, after seeing their friends and allies die or be maimed in horrible ways, merely seemed to fatalistically accept that something was going on and then turn back to considering their own survival.
Their actual friends were worried of course and rightly so (there were, after all, horror stories of witches and wizards delving far too deep with magic from the time of Atlantis with Voldemort being only the latest example) but, none of them voiced their concern directly.
They were at war and no one could afford to focus too much on anything else until that was done as a split focus would likely get them killed. They didn't want that for themselves, let alone Harry and Hermione nor did they wish to give the impression that they didn't trust their friend's judgement.
They did share knowing looks between themselves though. All of them knew that magic such as that, long forgotten and mostly consigned to myth and legend, came with a very steep price. All they could do was try to be there for their friends if and when the bill came due.
Aside from the Veela and possibly the Goblins (though no one was sure and they wouldn't speak of it) that price had proven too much or didn't end well… at all.
They all hoped that whatever was going to happen would happen after everything was done as they did have one more Dark Lord to hunt. They also prayed that it wouldn't kill Harry and Hermione… even if the couple was sharing the cost.
-HPCOD-
It had been a week since the death of Voldemort and Alpha Two knew that the I.C.W. army was less than a day away from the new boundary of Hogwart's wards that Dumbledore had set. She also knew that no one was willing to wait for them to fall and give Dumbledore any more time to work his schemes and do whatever he felt was needed for the Greater Good.
All thanks to a charmed notebook that they kept on their person at all times.
They also knew that the cleanup crew sent by the I.C.W. had barely landed in England and they had their hands full with that. They would be unable to provide support for the Lord Commander, let alone repel a possible attack from Dumbledore's Scotland.
They were far too busy deconstructing Voldemort's Government. They were trying to put the bare bones of a new one in place while hunting down and rooting out every single sympathiser to the old regime that they could find.
Harry and Hermione would have been grateful to know that one of the first ones caught, easily and early in their task, was Ginny Weasley. After all this time, neither had any fond feelings for the redhead (if they ever did) especially after all that she had done.
'I always knew that it might come to this,' Alpha Two thought in resignation as they moved through the halls of the castle with a clear destination in mind. 'No one does this job expecting safety'.
"Hello, Argus. How are you this morning?" Dumbledore asked, even as Alpha Two cursed inwardly at the sound of the hated voice of Dark Lord Dumbledore while mentally forcing his false mind to the front of their thoughts, as they had for as long as they had come here and were in the man's vicinity.
"I'm fine Headmaster," they answered in a perfect imitation of the gruff and angry caretaker.
"And Mrs Norris?"
"She is still unwell… but she is on the mend".
This was a lie, the uncannily perceptive cat had cottoned onto Alpha Two pretty quick and had to be disposed of straight away, no doubt a fact that would be making any number of students unreasonably happy if they had known. Illusions and the like had been used to show the animal but, they wouldn't pass close inspection, hence her 'illness'.
"She does seem to be unwell more often of late."
Dumbledore had clearly mastered the concerned look because, even as he said it and gave his trademark twinkle-eyed look, he scanned her false persona with ease. Thanks to his hubris and her training, he never found anything that he wasn't supposed to though.
'Still, I am beyond careful and that is not easy. The illusion spells can't be modern or in common use, as you would have recognised them and yet, they have to be comprehensive enough that they would pass even your passive scans. Sometimes it utterly sucks to be around you...well, as I know the real you that's a lie...it always sucks to be around you'.
None of Alpha Two's thoughts showed in the borrowed face of the caretaker or her body language as she was too professional for that but, she cursed herself anyway. These kinds of thoughts could lead to reactions that she couldn't control, slight though the chance may be, and that was not a risk she should be taking.
"Perhaps Hagrid could be of service?" Dumbledore inquired, seemingly done checking her for the day.
"Not yet Headmaster," Alpha Two said swiftly and too easily, "I think it's all the extra people around...it's causing her stress. I'd rather give her time to adapt than force her on a regime of potions or something like that and… I'd still prefer Madam Pomfrey first… no offence".
Dumbledore frowned and swiftly re-entered Alpha Two's mind. He was obviously suspicious of the quick reply but, Alpha Two held firm on her mask. Alpha Two let him find what she wanted him to find, a deep-seated terror of the half-giant. Not of the fact that he was one (Argus Filch was many things but he was not a racist) but more the fact that the man viewed dangerous creatures as cuddly and misunderstood. Images of 'poor Mrs Norris' being eaten by shadowy beasts were offered as sacrificial lambs to the Headmaster's mind.
"Well...I shan't keep you," Dumbledore replied, "unless you would like to join me for breakfast?"
"Can't I'm afraid," Alpha Two answered the man. "With Mrs Norris as she is I have fallen behind and the corridor near Hufflepuff...I mean I'd get the house-elves to do it but, with all the other people here they have enough to do".
"Say no more, my friend," Dumbledore said, both grateful for the compassion that Argus was showing the often mistreated creatures and dismissing the man instantly as inconsequential. He may have merely been being polite when he asked the other man but, he was hungry and didn't want to wait for his breakfast.
"Goodbye Headmaster," responded Alpha Two and they parted, each intent on their own task.
Alpha Two moved down the nearest set of steps until she reached the floor that she needed. Her face briefly showed an expression of loss as she did so before it hardened into a resigned mask.
'They will find Argus Filch, safely in status, in his room when all of this is over. Whatever this conflict has made us… we are not bloodthirsty'.
Her team had been given plenty of time to research their locations, even before they assumed their roles, and had made sure that this information that they had gathered for every secret source that they could find was accurate as soon as they could. This was how she knew to turn down the corridor and keep the kitchens on her right, eventually stopping just before the Hufflepuff Dormitories.
Then Alpha Two found what she was looking for. It was a beautiful mural that, like most of Hogwarts, looked brand new and yet was as old as the creation of the Castle itself and was a fantastic rendition of a badger protecting her sett.
'Who else would the Founders entrust the master wardstone to but the fairest and most considerate of their number? Nevermind the fact that she was reported to be a mother figure to almost everyone that she met, students and teachers alike'.
Alpha Two carefully studied the scene and took a deep, steadying breath. They knew that this was the last chance to turn back, to reconsider, to change their mind and come up with another option or another way.
'And all that choice would cost,' Alpha Two thought, 'would be the betrayal of my oath, everything that I have sworn to protect because, if I do that, then I place everyone I love at risk'.
Without another thought, Alpha Two cleared their throat and spoke firmly and clearly.
"When the Sett is endangered, the badger roars".
The animal seemed to wake up and soundlessly did just that before it (and the section of the wall that it protected) disappeared. All that was left when that happened was a marble pedestal that finished at chest height and on it was one of the most complex and impressive wardstones ever created.
If Alpha Two had the time they would have loved to take the wards down gradually and studying it as they did so. That act would be akin to plucking the individual strings of a harp and would be a slow, gradual thing that would protect those inside from the possibility of a catastrophic ward failure (if done by a master of the craft, which Alpha Two was) and would allow the I.C.W. in.
It would also take at least two weeks, more likely a month, of near tireless work. A month in which Dumbledore could plan, a month where the army could not get in and where the old man could move against Nysa and cause untold damage when he realised that Voldemort was dead.
Then there was the stupid way. Throwing the wardstone off the pedestal with a controlled burst of magic would bring the wards down instantly but, it would also cause the very ward failure that safely bringing them down would stop.
Alpha Two would be protected as this chamber was like a black box and designed to survive accidental ward failure. The students, teachers and innocents in the castle would not be as lucky and the risk was very real both for them and the structural integrity of Hogwarts itself as the energy had nowhere else to go.
Alpha Two did neither of those things though. Instead, they did the very first thing that any student was taught never to do. Keeping their mind clear, they reached out and grasped the stone with a bare hand in an almost loving and gentle manner.
Which burst into multicoloured flames straight away, even as Alpha Two began to harshly chant and was trying to bite back a long scream of pain. Magic, like electricity, took the path of least resistance when it could and it devoured her arm as if it never was as the flames began to move over the Shadows frame.
All that was left in their wake were motes of magic and dust.
Alpha Two had only one thought in her mind, to protect the students. This room, that was designed to survive a failure would now contain it and they would be safe even as they used the dangerous magic at their command to move the students from Hogwarts to the relative safely of in and around its boathouse on the original edges of the grounds.
With a supreme act of will, courage and a mental wrench, they began to move in even greater numbers and were no longer moving by ones and two's but rather en-mass. After that, anyone under the age of seventeen was moved as well.
Even as this happened the fire spread to Alpha Two's torso and legs.
Later, the I.C.W. would pick up the bewildered children and take them for processing but, for now, the sheer amount of magic used on them knocked them out as surely as a stunner.
Alpha Two's chanting finished and they finally released the scream that they were holding in as the fire reached their neck. Even the scream itself was amplified by the magic in the air and sounded far more like a wounded animal than any noise made from a human throat.
Dumbledore and the other staff, previously enjoying a very leisurely breakfast, heard that and swiftly tried to run to the source of the disturbance. They would be far too late to do anything, however as the wards fell completely before they could take three steps from their seats.
When that happened the I.C.W. outside immediately erected their own, temporary, versions.
The students were safe because of Alpha Two, all the children were, and that was because she did her duty and the army outside took a moment to honour that, even if most didn't even know her name or what her last thoughts were.
Alpha Two died doing her duty and her last thoughts were of her husband (who would be told what she had done quietly) and her two young children (who would not). Despite the pain she felt, she focused on the times that they had shared together as well as the times that they would now miss. In all of that pain, she had held tight to the things that had meant the most to her, the things that she had loved.
Her name was Luna Lovegood.
-HPCOD-
Harry and Hermione were in front and centre of the charge that began at the Hogwarts gates. They both knew what the falling of the wards meant and, though they didn't agree with the decision and were not consulted when it was made, they understood it.
They understood that the longer that time went on, the more likely it was that Dumbledore would receive word of Voldemort's death and deduce that Harry was nearby. They knew, better than most, how devious and manipulative he could be when he believed that it was necessary and placing Harry back under his control would always make that list.
That and they knew Luna. They knew that she would have had no fear in telling those that asked her to fuck right off if she didn't agree with their assessment. Hell, they both knew that it was probably her idea in the first place as she had never shied away from the tough decisions.
They did feel for Viktor and the children though.
Harry had tried to argue Hermione out of going with him but, one of the many things that he usually loved about her was her strength of will and he might as well have argued with a mountain for all the good that it did. He had always known that she was eloquent, he just didn't expect that skill to be used against him quite as effectively as it had been.
She won the battle to be there with him but, as every married man knew, there would be other battles in the beautiful war that was matrimony. He also knew that, in the end, no matter how many battles he won he would lose the war… though to him it was still worth the fight and he never really wanted to win the war anyway… nor did she for that matter.
All he wanted to do right at this moment was enjoy a nice and long peaceful time with his wife. It seemed that, if he wanted peace in his marriage, he would have to bring peace here. A hard-won and bloody peace it would be but it would happen.
They had no other choice.
The first three ranks of the fifteen rank army launched their magic at almost the same time.
A wave of explosive curses hit the large gates and they shuddered and shook under the impact even as several groups of enemy wizards came at them. They weren't stupid about it though, they did so as they came out of disillusionment and attacked the left flank as well as the front.
Even as they did that the Centaurs launched arrows from the woods to their right and, in that way, the I.C.W. found themselves hard-pressed from the get-go. Dumbledore had sprung his first line of defence and it was as simple as it was effective.
The fifteen ranks spread out to combat the threat but also managed to maintain order and formation when they did so. Three ranks (two to five) turned to face the Centaurs as they began to charge after their arrows.
Dumbledores first wave and his light cavalry were met with a force comprised of wizards, Veela and almost every other race that Nysa had that could fight above the water. Even the Merfolk on Harry's side were fighting against those that lived in the Black Lake and already the water was turning a reddish-pink from the unseen fight.
They had gotten there thanks to tunnels that had been built by the Goblin Nation centuries before and then forgotten by everyone, even them, until recently to create the Black Lake in the first place. If it wasn't for the papers in the Emry's vault Harry knew that it was likely they would have never been found.
So, when Dumbledore sprang his attack, Neville had sprung his as well. His involved a section of the lake bed exploding to admit a veritable horde of his underwater fellows that fought and died below even as others did so on the ground above.
No quarter would be given, not by the I.C.W. as too much blood had been taken from them already and, as far as they were concerned, the safety of the entire world had been put at risk by two people playing a long, slow, chess game.
Harry and the others from Nysa had a slightly different view of the situation despite being part of that army. They wouldn't give quarter either but, they had no illusions about fighting for high ideals and were simply sickened by all of the death, blood and losses that they had suffered. They fought because they had to because it was the only realistic way that they could go home in peace and no one was comfortable with leaving someone like Dumbledore alive behind them.
As Harry ducked one blow and placed an explosive curse on the man who had cast at him he used his knife, now in axe form, swung and took the legs off another. He was the economical quicksilver that danced around his wife even as she was the calm in the storm.
The battle raged about them but they held, as the tip of the proverbial spear. As Dumbledore's wizards ebbed and flowed around them they could find no purchase against the rocks that they had become.
Nothing was perfect though and though bodies began to pile up around them they took minor wound after minor wound and began to slow and Neville directed the main host. At the end of the day, something had to give, Harry knew that and so did Neville and Dumbledore.
So, when a horn sounded and Dumbledore's army began to withdraw Harry wasn't surprised. He was even less surprised when yellow sparks flew into the air and both he and Hermione knew what that signal meant.
"Go," Harry said to his wife even as she swiftly kissed him hard and took half of their forces to help in the underwater battle. Those sparks meant that it was not going well and the local Merfolk had seemingly adjusted to the attack well enough that reinforcements were needed.
Harry looked around the battlefield in an unexpected moment of peace. That peace was shattered when people began to scream.
The four towers of Hogwarts began to launch great bolts of arcane lightning down upon Neville's forces even as they moved as quickly as they dared to get closer to the castle and out of the radius of the attack. As they did so, the middle ranks created a large siege shield to try and blunt attacks that had the dubious honour of being assaulted by a weapon that could draw on the full power that rested beneath the castle and was no longer diluted by its wards.
The shield couldn't hold long against that, no matter how many wizards were pumping magic into it, and even with the first blow it thinned and paled even as it held. At their best shields such as this one were a deep and vibrant blue but, it was already more white than blue as parts of it were buckling under the strain.
Dumbledore took advantage of this obvious weakness and launched his second wave even the remaining Centaurs regrouped and charged again. This time though they were not alone as the entire colony of Acromantula came with them.
Given that their prey were both trying to fight back against them and get out of the scope of the lightning it should have been a crushing blow for the defenders. Even as portkeys took away the newly wounded, many more fell under the arrows of a Centaur's.
Dumbledore clearly hoped to turn them into a disorganised mass that would fall to his cavalry as they were beset of three fronts.
Harry and Hermione knew how the man had thought and had already freely shared those observations with Neville and the others. Simply put, they were prepared for this.
-HPCOD-
"Be calm Minerva. All is well," Dumbledore soothed one of his oldest, dearest and visibly upset friends. The war, and being cooped up like a rat in a cadge had changed everyone and, though he would prefer to save everyone and make them see that he was right in what Harry must do, he knew that losses now would save many lives in the long run...as long as he won.
He was pleased and a little worried that Harry appeared to be in the front line. It showed his skill certainly but, it would also make him harder to capture. He firmly believed that Harry could not die until the prophecy was complete (as a man shouldn't be able to die twice) but he didn't want to risk the unexpected twists that often came when you dealt with fate.
He'd had enough of that already.
"I fail to see how that is the case Headmaster," she answered even as she stared at the enchanted screens that displayed showing the battle from four different angles and couldn't help but be horrified by the loss of life on both sides. "Even if we somehow succeed here, we have no hope of defeating the next wave of troops from the I.C.W., no one has ever faced them and managed to defeat them in the long term".
"I know that," he answered much to her surprise, "but that was never the point".
"Then what was the point exactly?" When she spoke, it was with a tone of exasperation and horrified curiosity. Her frown added to the idea that she was displeased, as did the piercing and slightly judgemental look that she sent him.
"To negotiate from a position of strength," he reluctantly admitted. "I admit, it is not the situation I wished for and I abhor the loss of life but, it is the one that we find ourselves in. it is a very delicate one as well as, we can't be too much more of a threat without them sending reinforcements straight away but we can't give in or our entire world may be lost".
Unbeknownst to him, however, even if he was correct about the prophecy (which he was not) then it would be a moot point now that Voldemort was dead. No one had tried to inform him because he was both a criminal and unpredictable at the best of times. No one wanted to risk what he might do when he found out the truth.
"So your plan is to what?" She asked, shocked and appalled. "To use peoples lives, our lives, as a bargaining chip with the I.C.W.?"
"That's a harsh way of putting it," he admonished her lightly. " First of all, if you haven't noticed, I'm putting as few wizards at risk as possible. Second, and not to be indelicate, but the Acromantula don't belong in this hemisphere and will eventually destroy the ecosystem of the Forbidden Forest. There are also plenty of other colonies of their kind around the world and, I dare say, they outnumber wizardkind at the moment especially when merely looking at the number of right-minded wizards we have lost since Harry abandoned us. Lastly and perhaps most importantly, Harry Potter must be controlled before he makes a monumental error and becomes another Voldemort because he would be far worst as he has something that Voldemort never had… legitimacy".
"You can't be serious?" McGonagall disagreed with a note of anger and indignation in her voice. "Harry is a sweet boy and a credit to James and Lily. He would never become like that monster".
"He is not," Dumbledores reply was both rueful and a little pained. "You know, we call him Harry Potter because that is how we wish to remember him. We want to remember him as the sweet, short eleven-year-old that came to Hogwart's looking for a home even as I try and remember Voldemort as a young Tom Riddle that had been broken by life and needed care as well as correction. I'm afraid neither one is that boy anymore and have grown into very dangerous men. It is a fact that I have denied for far too long and, for that at least, I apologise, but we have to see Harry Emrys now and that man is a far different beast to the Harry Potter we both knew. Who knows what he learned or how far he has fallen? He essentially created an island state from nothing and we both have seen how power corrupts some of the most virtuous of our kind. To remind myself of that I just have to remember that Tom Riddle was young and sympathetic once too".
Before she could reply, whether to rebut his statement or agree with it, the battle on the screens drew their combined attention once again as it seemed that the latest charge of the Centaurs and the Acromantula was working exactly as Dumbledore had planned. Their charge bit into men and flesh with ease as the line struggled to repel them.
Before either of them could note the effectiveness of the tactic however the I.C.W's response was clear. The ground began to churn as if was alive and angry, before it exploded into an earthen geyser as dirt clouded the screens for a moment and the Goblin Nation finally entered the fray in earnest.
Both the Centaurs and the Acromantula fell into the hungry ground around them and were met, in their shock, by the sharp spears and blades of the Nation. The fact that they had been taken completely by surprise and were in shock meant that, with that one action, the battle had turned once again.
Aided by that wonderful invention, goblin steel. It wasn't just the weapons that were made of that metal though, they had brought along huge and unfolding shields that were not only woven with the best enchantments that the goblins could offer but were also able to cover most of the army in strategic places, allowing their shield to be protected in it's most vulnerable places.
Protecting them from the lightning that was trying so hard to kill them.
"It appears," McGonagall pointed out as the tide turned, " that your plan to control Harry and protect this country have it a rather large snag".
As they watched the battle unfold something else became clear to the two of them as they saw the fighting through the screens. That thing, that person, was one Harry Emrys.
In a word, he was devastating. His axe, though cleaning itself thanks to its magic was literally lopping enemies left, right and centre. His wand was a blur of power launching spell after spell and always Fluer, Sirius and Neville were nearby, protecting him and those around them.
"Could the Harry Potter you remember do even half of the damage that you're watching?" Dumbledore asked her pointedly and ignoring the comment that she had made. She didn't answer, seemingly lost in trying to reconcile the sweet boy with the an that was very nearly butchering the people he was fighting against.
The battle had ended swiftly after that, and they watched in horror as the enemy was too close for most of the castles outer defences to be effective. As the opposing army approached the doors to the castle they transfigured a crude but very effective battering ram.
While they did that, in between its great swings, they also attacked it with every charm, curse or implement that could damage the doors without risking the bearers of the ram.
"I'm afraid that I'm going to have to leave the defence of the castle to you," Dumbledore said abruptly and, loyal follower though she was, McGonagall couldn't help but exclaim her disbelief.
"You are leaving me in charge now? What will you be doing?"
"I'm afraid it cannot be helped, my dear. I must prepare for our last defence".
Even as he said this, both saw in the distant background of one of the screens, Hermione rise out of the water of the lake and finally rejoin her husband and his group with the remainder of her forces.
"I told you he was not the boy you remember," Dumbledore said again needlessly. "Now I have to go and greet the man he has become".
-HPCOD-
Arthur Weasley died pointlessly. he died for a man he shouldn't have trusted sense of what was right and what was wrong that had been dumped into him by an overbearing wife and a power-hungry man. Where his youngest son was an object of scorn for dying due o a despicable need for power, Arthur's death didn't cause a feeling of disgust but, rather a sense of pity and wasted potential.
Unbeknownst to all, save Dumbledore, he died merely to buy some time.
'I just wish I hadn't been the one to end his life,' Hermione thought as she stepped over the bloody corpse of someone who had once meant something to both her and Harry. Someone who still, despite everything, meant something to Fred and George.
The battle in the lower levels of Hogwarts was a dirty one. The corridors arguably nullified their number and people thought tooth and nail to survive. There was no finesse here, no winning and beautiful tactic to carry the day and no room to manoeuvre.
It was a bloody business of blood, screams and bone-breaking squeals. It was a case of hack and stand, step forward, wait for the half-second for more to turn up, and then repeat the process all over again.
Sirius was in charge of that and was in his element, dart from place to place, forcing the enemy back.
Here though, it was slightly easier as the walk to the Great Hall had more room to move and she had just stepped over the cooling body of one man (who had tried to hit her with a liquifying curse) and found herself at the closed doors to the Hall itself.
She wasn't the only one who did that, as she was accompanied by veela, goblins and many human members of her nation (muggle and wizard alike). As she always preferred, in battle and out of it, her husband was beside her as well even as the fight raged on around them.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, referring of course to the death of Mr Weasley. Harry may have had conflicting emotions about the man but, he was her husband, and she knew he could see the regret on her face.
'It was oddly sweet that he took the time to do that,' she thought, even as she saw him duck one spell, immolate the sender and throw his axe into another and then recall it for use again with a twitch of his empty hand.
"It's fine," she answered, though of course, it wasn't... not yet, not really. She put her conflicted feelings towards the only thing that mattered at the moment, survival, even as she continued to speak. "I blame Dumbledore, not anyone else".
Then they turned their attention to the fully reinforced doors and, after a time, managed to break them. They looked at each other the moment that they fell, understanding at that moment that, no matter what happened, they both would be there for the other.
No matter the cost.
As they entered, unbeknownst to them, in a hidden antechamber behind where the teachers normally ate their meals together Petunia Dursley was stabbed to death by a Dumbledore loyalist, activating a spell that cost both of them their lives. The power of that was subtle at first but, effective.
The old man had just sprung his final trap.
-HPCOD-
Harry knew as he took his first steps inside with Hermione in lockstep with him, that he had to be as quick as possible as the fighting was still going on throughout Hogwarts. From the heights of the Astronomy Tower to the lowest depths of the Dungeons wizard was fighting wizard, magical was fighting magical and there were even other dangers like the enchanted suits of armour to contend with. All of which wouldn't stop until Dumbledore was caught or killed.
He noticed that the ceiling of the Great Hall was different than usual. It was dark, rather than showing the sky outside. He didn't look long enough because, soon after he looked away and both of them crossed an invisible boundary, a small rune appeared in it the colour of old, dried blood.
The hall was not empty though as it was filled with Dumbledore's best, his final guard, and they (along with those that had managed to come with them) fought with everything that they had. The veela that were with them ran ahead of them both and took on the majority of the wizards while the goblins were content to attack the biggest physical threat in the room, Hagrid.
This was, perhaps, the most difficult fight that they had faced so far. They were encircled before they could blink and, aside from the literally massive problem that Hagrid could make of himself, the majority of the teachers were here and fighting too.
Most were unknown to the couple but, even with everything that had happened since they had been gone, neither doubted that the teachers were masters of their chosen fields. Each would have been a tricky fight on their own, if not a particularly difficult one as they hadn't been trained in extensive combat techniques, but together they were much more of a threat.
They were using that combined experience to its fullest from the outset as they were launching spells from the rear of the main body and targeting anyone that looked like they were important or in charge. Dumbledore was also in their midst, directing them and almost literally glowing with power.
He was killing far too many of them without anyone being able to get a clear shot in return and between him and the teachers they were killing far too many in those early few seconds. Both Harry and Hermione knew that this could not go on for long and so they acted as soon as they could.
By gutting a path as swiftly as they could to the teachers, with as little risk as they could manage. Given their skill when compared to the average wizard, when they snapped off their most devastating cutting and piercing curses that they knew, the bodies began to pile up around them.
The fact that they also conjured animals like tigers, panthers and even the occasional bear when they had a moment to do so helped them clear a path.
Harry was beginning to feel tired, his magic was sluggish and less responsive than usual, though he didn't have a moment to dwell on it as he was in a fight for his life. He began to use his axe more often than not but, was still very effective even with that handicap. So much so that he heard the voice of the new (at least to him) Potion Master Emmett Lawson as he spoke to Dumbledore above the din.
"We cannot keep this up Headmaster. We have to fall back".
"Just a few more moments Mr Lawson," Dumbledore's voice was smug as he replied to the man and that alone raised the hairs on the back of Harry's neck. "Everything is going to plan".
"What pl-" Lawson's voice ended abruptly and in a wet gurgling sound as Harry's axe was buried in the man's sternum, effectively silencing the man before he could finish what he was saying as it cleaved his heart in two and damaged the lungs while doing so.
"Dumbledore," Harry spat at the man, having finally got close enough to fight him directly. Hermione and the few that had broken through with them were engaged with the remaining teachers and so, for the moment, it was just the two of them.
As he spoke, in the background, the goblins (who had taken very heavy losses) had finally managed to pin Hagrid down quite literally. His skin had been pierced with enchanted javelins and spears that had stuck him to the floor.
The gentle giant couldn't even scream out even as he felt the pain in his shoulders and legs. He couldn't struggle as a bruised and battered goblin climbed him like a great fleshy tree and avenged his brothers by pushing a sharp sword through the simple man's heart.
There were now five runes glowing softly in the ceiling, feeding off the death beneath them to resolve more quickly and bring their effect to life.
-HPCOD-
Dumbledore had to force back a triumphant smile as he saw the fifth rune appear on the ceiling out of the corner of his eye as he didn't want to give anything away. He could see that it was already having an effect on Harry.
The young man was pale, unnaturally so to the older man's eyes, and there was sweat beginning to pour down his face. The glow in Harry's eyes was beginning to recede and turn more dull as the seconds passed even as Dumbledore made sure that he had to expend more magic to defend himself from both the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the other foes around him.
This was all part of Dumbledore's plan and, if people weren't busy fighting for their lives, it would have been obvious.
The teachers had, under Dumbledore's orders, of course, tried to hem Harry in and made it very difficult for him to dodge meaning that he had to use more and more magic to stop their attacks. To top it off, Dumbledore was casting with every scarp of power that he could, meaning that when the spells met it took more out of Harry as well.
-HPCOD-
Hermione would have usually been the first to notice what was going on but, she was not only facing a very capable opponent but, one that she once thought that she knew very well. Her emotional conflict was understandable but, was clouding her ability to critically analyse the situation especially as she was facing Professor McGonagall.
It went deeper for her than a simple issue of broken trust for her. At the time that they had first met (and for far longer than she was now comfortable with) she had trusted McGonagall as, in a world that was clearly run mostly by powerful men, she had become the ideal of what a learned witch could become. She had been powerful, friendly, trusted and a lover of learning beyond being a teacher.
One, she might have been happy with the same path. Where some wanted the power of Dumbledore, she had aspired to be the next Mcgonagall (or at least end her career of changing the world for the better in that position and with a similar mentality).
This wasn't about revenge though, or duty even though hers was clear. What it was about was what it should have always been, the protection of her husband and her loved ones.
Steeling herself, her wad glowed with barely restrained power as she prepared to demolish someone who used to be one of her idols.
-HPCOD-
Elsewhere the battle raged.
Neville Longbottom looked wearier than ever as he fought with his blade. The curse that was stymied by the runes on his flesh was slowly weakening his body as well as it sought to complete its task. It was killing him day by day but none of the lethargy that plagued him showed on his face as he put his all into ending this threat to those that he loved.
He was aided by many enchanted items that, for as long as they held, would help protect him as if he had cast a multitude of shields though they were very difficult to make so they had not been provided to anyone else. His armour was reinforced further by the finest materials that Nysa could procure and even though the blood and gore that he had already faced both the enchanted items and the armour had proved their worth more times than he could count.
As had he for that matter. Neville Longbottom, who had been called many things including a squib long before he effectively became one, had proved his worth by overcoming every challenge that he had ever faced but no more so than he had done here.
He was still humble about his contributions though and, if this had been peacetime, he would have objected (even as the master armourers wept regardless) at the cost of the items that he was using, not to mention the time and skill that had been poured into the creation of each one. It was not however and Nysa could do no less, not only for one of its founders but for one of her favourite sons.
He was not alone either.
His wife Hannah was at the medical point nearby healing who she could and Sirius Black, having cleared the lower floors as there were fewer people there, was beside him. The man that had been wrongly accused of mass murder, admittedly a prankster and child at heart and still the kind of man that no woman would want to introduce to their mother would never abandon him.
Neither would the Hawks that he brought with him nor would (in what had been a shock announcement) his fiancee Amelia Bones. They protected his flanks and were ruthlessly efficient at it even as Sirius moved between them all when needed to provide his own unique form of chaos.
Fleur Delacour was there as well, moving around both on the ground and (in a very limited fashion) in the air as well reminiscent of the bird-like creature that she sometimes became. Where Sirius could not be she was, moving like flowing water breaking apart the enemies counter attacks either with a well-placed spell or fireball.
In this way, even before Sirius rejoined them, the group had managed to clear out floor after floor of the castle.
Case in point, a witch had fallen and appeared to be dead only for her to rise almost completely uninjured and try to kill Neville. The theory being that, if she managed to do so, it would be like cutting the head off a snake and resistance to Dumbledore would crumble.
Before she could do so however six piercing curses struck her in the torso, a suffocation jinx smashed violently into her head (courtesy of the Black Library) and Neville's blade swung around with force and slid through her neck like a hot knife through butter. That final action was followed immediately by a fountain of blood that burst from the newly made corpse where he had struck.
It was a surreal moment and caused a large part of the fighting to pause and watch as the woman's head flew into the air and land into the mass of horrified defenders.
It cost them as, in the main, as skilled as they might be and as hardened as they had become to the horror of war they were not professional soldiers and took longer to recover than their attackers did. A situation which the I.C.W. contingent took full advantage of as they inflicted devastating damage on the shaken defenders.
They broke and began to run, with small pockets of resistance being broken becoming the order of the day for the moment at least. But, in their defence, who knew that Lavender Brown's head could fly so well?
Regardless, the fourth floor was now clear so it was onto the next, where no one had any doubt that their enemy was already reforming and trying to maintain their increasingly desperate hold on Hogwarts.
"Forward," Neville almost sighed. The long and bloody day that this had become wearied them all, affected them all, and it wasn't over yet.
-HPCOD-
Thirty-six dark and bloody runes hung above Harry's head as the majority of Dumbledore's forces had been moved out of position, otherwise contained or killed. The wheat had been removed from the chaff, with only the best of his people remaining active.
Given that, Harry was more than a little irritated that Dumbledore was still smirking as he had been throughout their fight. He didn't seem to care how many of his own people fell to injury, ran, were captured or had died during the assault. His look hadn't even changed one iota when a heavily bleeding Hermione had portkeyed away with an unconscious and chained McGonagall.
McGonagall was no threat to anyone at the moment. Her face more resembled a lump of mashed steak than anything else, her stern and knowing countenance broken forever and her arms and legs were missing, likely never to be replaced.
A wave of fire flew from Harry's wand, even as he seamlessly launched a chain of piercing hexes, cutting curses and a lightning strike that was hidden by a cone of frost straight afterwards. He also threw his axe at the man for good measure in another attempt to end his life.
Only for Dumbledore to somehow move with the agility of a much younger man as he ducked, dived, dodged, conjured barriers and otherwise shielded himself against Harry's righteous fury.
Above them, the thirty-seventh rune, rooted by the maternal blood that Petunia and Lily shared and further empowered by every spell with the intent to injure or kill that had been cast since the first one formed.
"Why the hell are you fucking happy?" Harry snarled.
-HPCOD-
Even in a makeshift field hospital that was dealing with a large number of people, there were lulls. This was partially due to the ebb and flow of the injured and also due to the nature and speed of magical healing. Thanks to that Healers were able to rest, eat and recharge their cores from the draining work that they had to do. It was also why there were shifts of Healers in any hospital rather than one or two per twelve-hour rotation.
It was currently the start of Adromedia Tonk's first four hour rest period (if they could have allocated more she would have got it) and it was unsurprising then that she was the first person that Hermione saw.
She was heavily bandaged and still smelled strongly of the medicinal potions that were helping her heal, though she still had full movement, and both her skin and mouth felt slightly raw. Underneath that was the vague smell of sweat, of blood and the dirt of battle, but she still managed to give the other woman a tired smile.
"Hey, Andi. How are you?" Her voice may have been tired but her voice was warm. Seeing the far-away look in the other woman's face as she sat on a table beside her in the basic canteen that had been set up for them. She took her hand and softly asked "Has something happened? Is it Ted?"
"No," she answered, her voice sounded hollow and broken to Hermione's ears, "not as far as I know. He should still be with the vanguard, cleaning up any stragglers and if there was anything wrong with him he'd end up here anyway. It's Nymphodora".
"What about her?" Hermione's voice was guarded as, though she was sympathetic to Andi's worry for her child, Tonks was an adult and had made her choices as far as she was concerned. Still, she tried to be sympathetic regardless, if only for Andi's sake.
"I just got word from Sebastian," she began brokenly.
Sebastian Delacour was not considered fit for the front lines due to his injuries but, he was perfectly capable for the job of organising and passing information between the many different parts of the war machine. This made him very useful as, as useful as other methods would have been, a human touch was often needed and it had the side benefit of allowing the man to put his well-trained mind to use. "She's dead… my baby is dead".
"I'm sorry," Hermione could only reply with that, anything else would have been too complicated and too tied up with the choices they had all made for the woman, even as she gathered her up into her arms.
A dam inside the older woman broke then and she wailed, the high pitched and wounded sound of deep grief, as she felt a pain that no parent should ever feel and far too many did.
Maybe it was the fact that many would share that pain by the end of today, maybe it was the fact that far too many already did or maybe it was her mounting worry over everyone that she cared about but, Hermione could feel her strength slowly fading as it fell out of her like blood from an open wound.
She was so tired.
"She was fighting on the third floor, right near the stairs to the fourth, when Sirius…. When Sirius…"
"Go on," Hermione encouraged gently. She understood without Andi actually saying it that, at this moment, the woman needed to get the words out and needed to allow the reality of her situation to be acknowledged. She needed to purge herself of this so that one day, maybe, far in the future, she could try and live beyond this moment.
"Sebastian learned what happened from one of the injured who was there at the time. They had just reached the final part of that floor and it turns out they had turned at least the back end of it into dormitories for their troops. Before they could take even three steps further they had been surrounded by the enemy".
"And Tonks was with them?" Hermione asked softly, speaking quietly so as to not startle the fragile woman.
"Worse, she was leading them," the bitterness and hopelessness in Andi's voice was as clear and sharp as a knife even as it was entwined with her grief. "She managed to get Sirius alone for a moment by tearing into others. She used her abilities, the same ones she used to use to make her father laugh, to rip apart so many people before she managed to do it. How could she do that? How could my baby girl kill so many others? How could she follow… him?"
"War is a crucible," Hermione answered eventually, still speaking in that soft tone. "Some it breaks, some it hardens and others… it remakes".
"It made her into a monster". Even as Andi spat the last word with all the hatred that she possessed Hermione could help but briefly wonder if they were all becoming monsters, if any of them would come out of this anything less than that in one way or another, before dismissing the thought for now. "She tried to use the same tactic on Sirius but, she forgot that the Blacks used to have quite a few members with her gift in the past and that they were often insane to boot".
"Meaning?"
"Meaning," Andi chuckled darkly, humourlessly, as she replied, "that you can change your shape all you want but, you are still human. If the right organ is damaged or you lose enough blood you will still die. That's what Sirius did, that's what she forced the only good member of our family to do… death by a thousand cuts".
Then she was wailing again as that dark tide of emotion fully overwhelmed her and all Hermione could do was hold Andi tight, rocking her softly, as she waited out the storm.
-HPCOD-
Forty-two runes littered the ceiling as almost everyone else had been captured, withdrawn or were dead on the ground, leaving Harry and Dumbledore fighting each other among the dead. Power told the story in the end as, in this case, it translated to stamina and all the other parties simply couldn't keep up with them.
Harry looked nothing like the vibrant young wizard that he was before he had entered the Great Hall. He looked more like a man who had run three marathons back to back and not slept for at least twenty four hours.
In contrast to that, Dumbledore, though by no means looking any younger moved with athleticism and vigour of a twenty-year-old.
'Time now, I think,' Dumbledore thought smugly to himself. 'Wearing Harry down has been educational and, dare I admit it, entertaining. Now it's time he realised some harsh truths and who is actually the master here.
He spoke a word in a hash tongue long forgotten and that was ancient even when Atlantis was young, and a massive ball of golden light (blue with streaks of red and mixed with a nearly overwhelming amount of golden-green) appeared above the older man's head.
Before Harry could do anything it detonated. It scoured the Great Hall bare, literally nothing was left, bar its stone walls and the two men when it blew outward in a cataclysmic wave of fury.
He found himself mildly surprised for a moment that Harry still lived, then scolded himself for the idea Harry was a servant of prophecy and prophecy must protect the younger man in ways that he could not comprehend. 'Well, that and the spell is made partially with the blood of his blood. The spell was also only destructive as a side effect of its main purpose'.
"A trickly thing, blood magic. It's very powerful but less defined than a standard spell, the trick is to use the side effects wisely". Dumbledore's voice was that of an impassioned teacher and it was as if he had no care about the situation he found himself in at this moment. "It's also annoyingly specific. This one required the blood of your family to be spilt for it to take effect and it had to be activated in very close proximity to you. Your Aunt was the best match that I could get a hold of, being your mother's sister but… I'm afraid she did not survive the process".
Even as he spoke those final words, laden with false sensitivity as they were, another rune was formed above them and the spell began to take its full effect. Harry fell to one knee, feeling like his every cell was being drained and, far away, Hermione collapsed too as she began to scream. He was easily thrown into a wall, given his condition, and shackled tightly to it without much resistance as well.
"It is very useful though. When it was more commonly used it often killed the target before the fifteenth rune. Congratulations on surviving this far, I knew you had it in you". Dumbledore seemed oddly proud of him as he spoke, as if he was responsible for who Harry had become. "That was likely why it was banned. I know you don't, but you should appreciate all of the trouble I went to in resurrecting a blood enchantment that has barely survived as a whisper of history. Do you want to know why I'm safe in talking about this? Do you want to know what else is happening right now? No? Well, I'm going to tell you anyway so that, in your last free moments, you fully realise the futility of fighting me."
"Fuck...you," Harry gasped out, clearly in a great deal of pain.
"How colourful," Dumbledore said dryly before continuing to speak in a normal tone. "It makes me the source of your magic, every spell you expend isn't regenerated by you over time but, instead, given to me. If you survive to the full sixty you'll only get the power that I give you, I will still get your magic no matter what and you'll become my puppet for good measure. Either way, the life of Harry Potter will end today. Don't you see? If you die fighting Voldemort I win, if you survive? I will still win. Fate cannot be denied".
Before Harry could respond (and much to Dumbledore's surprise) a pair of ghostly hands came out of the wall, against the design of anything the older man had set up, took hold of Harry and seemed to flicker for a moment.
A lot can happen in a moment.
-HPCOD-
"What the hell?" Harry gasped even as he found himself, once again, in the Room of Requirement and those bare walls seemed to comfort him even as the Aspect of Hogwarts stood in front of him.
"Hello to you too, my beloved student," responded Ravenclaw and the tone that she used, both somehow full of deep caring and an indescribable loss, brought him up short.
"What's going on?" Harry demanded but, considering how he felt, his words lacked any bite and were full of his confusion, his care and concern for her and his weariness. He would never know how much she appreciated that he felt for her at this moment.
"Dumbledore was not lying. I can see the sickly spiderweb of his spell spreading in thousands of tiny threads throughout all of your being. They are sinking deeper every second and, if nothing's done, you will either be his puppet or dead".
"Then how am I alive right now?" Harry asked. Now that he was out of the fighting the adrenaline was wearing off and he felt all of the dizziness, pain and an ever-growing weakness that was threatening to consume him with every breath.
"Because your magic is drawing on your connection to Hermione in a similar fashion to the branding that Riddle had with his followers, though for you and her it goes both ways to a degree and was completely unintentionally formed. It has bought you some time but, in the end, at best you shall both be dead. The worst case is that you survive and she dies of course".
"How are we even talking at the moment? Surely Dumbledore is draining me still? Isn't he also trying to use the castle to find me?"
"He is, but I'm using everything that I have to stretch this moment long enough to speak to you," she answered tiredly.
"What's the fucking point?" Harry snapped in dispair. "I can't stop him, you can't stop him. All this does is prolong my agony… the agony for both of us".
"Not just yours and Hermione's and either of us can technically break the spell but, you may be able to stop it".
"What do you mean, not just yours?" Harry asked, his concern overriding his newfound hope for a brief moment. As he looked more closely at her she did seem more indistinct by the minute and, somehow, she seemed to be in even more pain than he was. "What's happened to you?"
"Nothing I did not expect. I defied my fundamental nature, things that are necessary to survive, and for a human that's things like eating, sleeping and breathing. Even though I am not human, the end result is the same… I am dying. Worse, the last failsafe of the Founders is active. For as long as I defy the will of an active Headmaster I will be in ever-increasing pain, though for doing it once I am going to die".
Her face spasmed is a rictus of agony. "The Founders didn't want a powerful magical construct free to act, unrestrained by their will or the will of their successors. They feared what a being, with that much power an alien (to them) morality, might do so they put in certain safeguards when I was born. I broke the most fundamental in taking you".
"How do we stop what is happening to you?"
"We can't, understand the truth of that and accept it. I have always known, from the moment of my creation, that if I did something like this then this would be the price. All you can do to help me...is my by helping yourself".
"No… I don't like where this is going. There has to be another way, there just has to be," Harry half muttered and half objected.
"Drain me. You have grown in your time away and Dumbledore's spell is fragile. If I have enough power left you should overload it with such a concentrated burst. This will return your power to you and weaken Dumbledore. Even in my death, if I can help you, I will and your beloved".
"No," Harry said firmly, denying the option even as his voice broke a little. "We will find another way. I can't murder you".
"You wouldn't be murdering me," she disagreed even as was brought to her knees by the pain and her form wavered further, "it would be a mercy. When this castle became Hogwarts both it and I were given a purpose… to protect the students. Dumbledore had forgotten that and done horrible things while being sheltered by me, while abusing me, while using me. He made me complicit in what he was doing and, without you, I'd have no way of stopping it. Your request gave me back my voice. You gave me the freedom to explore Nysa and thanks to that I gained freedom and the ability to enjoy my existence for the first time in a long time. I love you for giving me that so please, please, let my existence end in love… not abuse".
Tears sprang from Harry's eyes as he brokenly nodded and his hand moved up with great reluctance.
For the first time, he slowly and gently stroked her cheek. Their eyes met and he found himself unable to speak, all he could do was silently stare into her eyes and thank her without words for everything that she had done for him.
"You are sorry...I know. I know you would do anything to change what is about to happen but, do you know what I see?" He shook his head. "I see someone who cares for me and I want that to be the last thing I see".
Then the draining began and the Aspect of Hogwarts never looked away from the eyes of Harry Emrys. When it had was finished all Hogwarts would be was a castle, all traces of the magic that made it unique would be gone, would be consumed.
However, the connection that Hogwarts had to the land underneath it was so old and so strong that it continued even after Harry had finished trying to drain it and he couldn't stop it.
-HPCOD-
He felt strange… different.
There was power in the air, more than he had ever understood before, and it floated like dust motes through everything. He noticed this even as part of his mind, somehow, kept drawing on what used to be Hogwarts and the last pieces of someone... something… that he cared for.
It was difficult to tell, he was old and new, fragmented and whole…. He was still forming. Was he dying? Was he living? Was there even a difference? He did not know.
Names were difficult to grasp in this state. They were such little things, some sounds that were nonsense until strung together in the right combination and then, suddenly, they would have meaning. They would become something much greater than the sum of their parts, things filled with memory, fraught with emotion and heavy with significance.
He knew his, Harry, and he knew hers, Hermione. Such small words to convey the depths of his life and hers before and after it had touched his. The rest would come with time, including all that the names meant, he instinctively knew that… if he had time, just as he knew that in this state thought, observation and action all blurred in a non-linear and confusing mess for the moment.
Time was an amusing construct that meant so much and so little at the same time.
So he focused on what was important at this moment, not trying to connect it with one before or after it for now, but dealing with each second, each heartbeat, as an individual thing until he could become more...complete.
There were hooks of...magic… on his soul and a feeling of discomfort.. no pain... no agony. He distantly recognised that sensation as if he was looking at it from beneath a deep well or from the top of a tall mountain. Was that important? He didn't know, but he did not want the hooks in him now... if he ever had and that, at least, felt important.
Someone was speaking to him, an older man with a beard and a piercing gaze. He ignored the man as he turned his attention to destroying those hooks. As he tried to do that a name came to him...Bumblebee? No. The Whiskered Wanker? No. Fuck You? No. Manipulative Arsehole? No, but that felt closer. Dumbledore?
Yes, and with that name came a feeling of great rage that was barely contained but, like everything else, it was distant...as if it was happening to someone else far away.
Dumbledore's voice was grating on his senses. Thankfully for Harry, he stopped talking as the younger man threw more and more of his freshly gained magic at the vileness that was seeking to pierce him, to control him and to make him...less.
Was he talking? Maybe, maybe not. Speech was so inefficient and imprecise and he couldn't remember whether he had spoken or not or even if he was speaking now… it seemed such a small and silly thing to focus on, let alone worry about.
He did feel it though when Dumbledore tried to use his magic to force the hooks to stay even as they were beginning to fray after being swamped in his new power. The stain of that conflict showed in the air by way of an angry heat haze (not that Harry had the capabilities to care about that at the moment or Dumbledore the attention to spare) and sweat was coming from both of their bodies as if they were caught in a rainstorm.
Harry had more power (at least for the moment) but Dumbledore had more skill in this area and used it to stymie any attempts to permanently break the hold that he had on Harry, knowing that the longer he did so, the more the balance would tip in his favour. Time was, after all, on the older man's side.
Was he dying? This felt like dying, or at least he thought so… it was so difficult to tell as there was such a thin line between life and death. He could almost see it, that line, but like many things, pondering that would have to wait.
So Harry did the only thing that he could and focused on the now. He drew further on the fading magic of Hogwarts, on the few remnants that he hadn't yet made his own. Through the broken and already fading connection to the Room of Requirement and through that the connection that he had made with the Aspect...or was it the other way around? Again, he wasn't sure.
It still wasn't enough, even though he literally glowed with power and felt more of him shift and change forever with every moment, it wasn't enough.
Far away from him, he felt the other... Hermione, going through a similar change. She wasn't conscious of it, he could tell, as unlike him her mind had shut down before it began.
The very building blocks of the Room crumbled into dust as he leeched them dry even as, thanks to sympathetic magic, those that had been placed in Nysa did the same. Then he went further still, deeper down into the earth, only to be hit with a wave of power so strong and raw that it defied any description.
A memory surfaced then, though he couldn't tell whether it was his, Hermione's or someone else's. Memories were difficult like that, truth bound in self-deception and distorted perspective, but he knew it was warning him against doing this. It was too late for warnings though as he had already started something that couldn't be stopped.
He wasn't sure if he wanted it to and, in fact, with every moment that passed he was becoming more sure that he did not.
It was as if he had spent his entire life blind only to suddenly (and without warning) see and more than that, the first thing he set his gaze upon was the blazing heart of a sun. He found himself full of pain, every cell screamed its utter torment and yet, at the same time, they were singing with a joy that was so loud it drowned out almost everything else.
Externally nothing had changed but, internally, Harry instinctively knew that everything had and that it was not done yet. Where there had been shifts before (some very large in hindsight) now it felt like everything that made him who and what he was, was being swept away in a torrent and it was only his iron will and instinctual stubbornness that holding on and gathering the fragments of his mind so that he could piece them together.
On the plus side, this new power of his shattered the sickly web that Dumbledore had tried to infect him with like a hammer to glass.
He dropped to his knees from the force of it, feeling his native magic return to him now. It seemed so important once but was now barely a trickle in an ocean that was still growing. He could stop it now, he knew that, but he couldn't summon up a reason to one way or the other, so he let himself drink in more even as he stood and gazed at the man known as Dumbledore.
He looked old, ancient even. It was as if the backlash from the failed blood magic had ripped out a piece of his vitality in a furious rage as it was destroyed. His shocked look of utter disbelief didn't help him look any younger as his furrowed brow highlighted the wrinkles on his face.
"How?" Dumbledore gasped out, as he felt the agony of both the shattered spell and the stolen magic being ripped away from him only to be returned to its now very annoyed owner.
Harry cocked his head to the side, oddly perplexed by the question, though more of who he once was and what he was becoming was resolving every moment, sometimes in knowledge but more often by instinct.
As an idle thought, Harry was free straightened his body, now fully healed, and moved forward towards Dumbledore. His feet didn't touch the ground as, unconsciously, he floated two inches off the ground, as if the air beneath his feet was as solid as stone.
Even as Dumbledore had asked the question he had felt Hogwarts (for lack of a better term) die and, as the sitting Headmaster and tied into it and the wards, was reeling from the metaphysical blow. The loss of that essence, that unique feeling of home that Hogwarts always exuded, was heartbreaking to him. Instead of being its most celebrated headmaster, he had become its last.
The wards, a connected and yet independent system, were in shreds because of Alpha Two's sacrifice, though Dumbledore would never learn that fact.
"I don't know yet," answered Harry, sounding like there was a chorus of voices buried just beneath his normal one even as Dumbledore began to launch spell after spell at him. "But I will".
All the attacks that were sent towards him were batted aside, as if they were nothing, either literally by hand or simple and inexplicably curving around him. Harry certainly paid them no more notice than a fly buzzing around his head.
And his connection, his power, was still growing and changing him.
Dumbledore, to his credit, understood that his direct attacks were not working. He turned to more defensive and indirect magic as a result. He used every complex and powerful shield that he knew and employing every scrap of transfiguration he knew to force Harry to slow, stop or react. This was more than most of his kind as he had travelled extensively in his youth and he held absolutely nothing back in his desire to survive.
All of which amounted to nothing.
Harry didn't see the world in the same way as he once did. He saw these things set against him for what they were, constructs of magic. He could see the warp and weft of their make-up more clearly than their physical properties, almost as if what they had been forced to become was more a half-remembered dream than reality.
With detached fascination, he tore them apart more out of a desire to test his abilities than any viciousness. Yes, he was learning (or relearning depending on perspective) what Dumbledore had done to him and the emotions attached to those memories was becoming more real with every second but, so was the desire to understand his limits.
He found none.
Before Dumbledore could do anything else or say anything at all Harry merely snapped his fingers. When he did that the so-called Leader of the Light, the Greatest Wizard Since Merlin (in at least his own mind both a title and a fact) exploded from the inside out in a plume of blood, guts, bone and gore.
Harry did not simply stop at destroying the man's body though. His magic reached out, commanded by his will, like a jagged and bestial claw and shredded the man's soul before it could move on to the next great adventure. He purposefully didn't destroy it outright but, sentencing it to a slow and wounded death in its new existence and, when it did die, it would collapse into complete oblivion.
No rest, no hope, no paradise and no hell, just...nothing and until that happened it would remain in ever-increasing pain. It wouldn't even be able to become a ghost of a spirit, doomed to a virtual eternity of despair and pain before the maw of nothingness swallowed it whole.
No matter how long it took it would feel far, far longer than it actually was to whatever remained of Dumbledore.