Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
March 21st, 1995
It was the day of the Spring Equinox. A majority of the winter snow had melted away, the warmer spring season bringing about a change in climate. Yet, there still was a bitter crisp in the Scottish morning air, but nothing that the early tourists visiting the infamous wonder of Stonehenge seemed to mind. Cameras flashed as the people stood in front of the ancient stone monoliths, relishing in the experience of being in one of the wonders of the world.
Tourists. Muggle tourists. They come and they see giant rocks that were mysteriously arranged by ancestors long ago, ignorant of the true magical nature of this place. Those monolithic rocks were the most deeply rooted in magical property than anything else in the world. How those idiots at the Ministry permitted these vermin to parade around this site as if they owned it was beyond Voldemort's comprehension. Actually – no, it wasn't. The Ministry just believed muggles to be completely ignorant. That was true, of course, but that did not give them the right to let a site like this be reverted into some sort of tourist attraction.
Things would be much different once he was in power.
He and his Death Eaters observed the comings and goings of these filthy muggles from a distance. If one of those muggles happened to spot them dressed in their robes, they seemed to dismiss it as a renaissance convention; but they wouldn't for very long.
Bellatrix approached him. "My Lord, is it time now? May we commence with the plan?" she was eager, her tone betrayed that much emotion in her.
"Your drive remains unchanged, Bellatrix," he soothed. "The time is near ripe, the dream I had last night was confirmation enough. Things are moving on the other side right now; we just need to perform this ritual." From the back of the Death Eater crowd, Pettigrew shuddered. "Do as you will, Bellatrix. Kill as many of these muggles as your heart so desires."
A familial, maniacal grin broke out across her face, clearly overjoyed at being given permission. With her wand in hand, Bellatrix ran down to where those muggle tourists were, most laughed at the sight of a grown woman wearing robes and holding what they believed to be a stick. A few took pictures, but their jovial time was ruined when Bellatrix shouted those two words.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of green light shot from her wand, striking a small child in front of the parents. Bellatrix's laugh stood out amongst the screams as she fired off more and more killing curses. Seeing Bellatrix taking all the glory, the rest of the assembled twelve Death Eaters moved out as well. Each cast off in their own killing curse as well, striking more muggles. Pettigrew stayed behind, nervously chewing on his fingers.
"Do you not care for the sight, Wormtail?" Voldemort asked. "You don't have to. The only thing that you have to do is obey." Bellatrix cast one last killing curse, cutting down an old muggle couple. "Come, Wormtail. It won't be long now until Dumbledore arrives. No doubt Severus told him of our plan to be involved here today, but that is hardly of concern. Dumbledore won't be able to stop us." Voldemort stepped over the dead bodies of some muggle children. "I have magic from the angels, after all."
As covered in their previous meeting, his Death Eaters began to draw magical runes along the ancient stone monoliths with their wands. The marks would fade over time, the natural magic of this site would eventually correct itself, but for the time being, this was now a ceremony site.
"It is done, my Lord," Rabastan Lestrange bowed before him.
"Excellent," Voldemort turned his gaze to the rat, Peter Pettigrew. "Did you hear that Wormtail? Your time to contribute is at hand." Voldemort conjured a knife, levitating it over to a trembling Wormtail. "A ritual as this needs a sacrifice, even one as pathetic as you will fill that vacant spot with your blood."
Wormtail nervously held the knife away from him, the blade pointed at his chest. He began to cry.
"It is natural to fear death, Wormtail," Voldemort was not impressed by his cowardice. "But you can either die on your feet, the closest you will be to a man or, die crying and begging on your knees like the pathetic rat that you have always been your entire life. And Wormtail, I won't make your death a quick one."
Wormtail lowered his head in shame, tears pouring from his eyes. "James… Lily… I'm sor-!" he quickly plunged the knife into his own chest, straight through his heart. The second Marauder was dead, his blood staining the green grass and white snow a crimson red.
The recently inscribed runic symbols drawn on the ancient stone monoliths pulsated, changing to the color of Wormtail's blood, reacting to the ritual. Voldemort smiled as he felt the energy in the air begin to weigh heavily, a clear sign that it had been a success. It was close now, so very close. The angels had been communicating with him through his dreams, telling him what was going on and what to do on his end of things. And it was finally happening, the great merging was about to commence. All he had to do was hold back whatever forces Dumbledore came with, maybe even the Ministry too once they got notice of all the magical energy being tossed around. His existence would no longer be denied after that happened, but there was nothing they had that could oppose him, he had all but won the first war if it hadn't been for Potter.
His red eyes became entranced by the pulse of the runic symbols. The energy was almost palpable. Stonehenge would no longer be an attraction, a popular landmark, but an anchor to beyond. Almost like a bridge, but not a stationary one. He fully suspected that with the right method, anyone would be able to come and go as they wished.
Back in Hogwarts, Dumbledore was in a frenzy. Severus had informed him that Voldemort planned to move on Stonehenge today, but he didn't think it would this early in the morning. Voldemort was a Dark Lord, usually preferring to move at night under the shadow of darkness. To make a move in broad daylight… either he was extremely confident in his power, or he was making a rash decision, spurred on by some unknown pressure driving him.
Either way, he had to act fast. "Fawkes," Dumbledore called his trusty Phoenix to his arm. "Go alert Minerva, Filius, and Remus, they will know what your presence means." The Phoenix gave a nod of his brightly colored head, flying straight into his fireplace in a blazing glory.
Dumbledore then produced a Patronus, another phoenix. Patronus' worked against repelling dementors, but they could also be used as messengers. "To all members of the Order of the Pheonix, Voldemort has made his move. Apparate just near Stonehenge, Do not engage until I arrive." The white phoenix flew out his open window, and he summoned another in its place. "To Amelia Bones of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A magical development is occurring at Stonehenge. Bring as many Aurors as necessary, take no chances."
Fudge may be blind to what is going on, but Amelia was one of the most unbiased people working in the Ministry of Magic at the moment. If anyone could understand the full gravity of the situation and not be blinded by the rose-colored glasses, it was her. It would take time for her and her task force to arrive, she would have to get permission from Fudge first, but she was stubborn enough to not take "no" as an answer when an emergency call had been placed.
Hurridly, Dumbledore scooped a handful of Floo powder, tossing it into the fire. "The Three Broomsticks!" green flames engulfed his body and he found himself in the fireplace of the empty Hogsmead pub.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Madam Rosmerta exclaimed. "What is going on? Two of your professors have just flooed through, they disapparated as soon as they left. Is something the-," Dumbledore did not hear what she was going to say. Now that he was past the Hogwarts wards, he disapparated as well. But there were two order members who did not instantly follow Dumbledore's orders. And both were currently at Hogwarts.
"Sirius," Remus' voice was urgent, "are you sure about this?" they were in a clearing within the Forbidden Forest, the ancient runes carved out in the soil and snow alike.
"This is the closest chance we are going to get," Sirius tried to reason. He heard thPatronusus message, he knew what was likely going on at this very minute. "If we don't do this now, then we'll be stuck waiting until the Summer Solstice or Halloween."
"I know that Sirius, I mean if this doesn't work. Those are our friends and colleagues out there right now. Any injury they sustain that we could have prevented is on us, Sirius."
"Do you think I don't know that?" Sirius nearly snapped. "Do you think I like the idea of knowing that any of our friends could die today? But, why was the Order formed, if not to combat Death Eaters. If they're at Stonehenge, they could be trying the exact same thing that we are. Harry would be as good as dead if we don't do this now!"
"If this doesn't work, Sirius…"
"Don't remind me." He placed the two knight figurines in the center of the runic circle. Opening to the correct page of the text, he began to chant.
Windham, capital of Midland.
Damn that Black Swordsman! Damn him to the deepest part of the abyss! Emperor Ganishka was in a foul mood as he clutched at the recently formed scar on his forehead. His mist apostle form was near unstoppable, how had an ordinary sword prevailed when a squad of flying apostles had failed? That's to that little stunt; he had been forced to withdraw his apostle form from battle, leaving the city to be taken by the God Hand in human disguise. The Hawk of Light would have the backing of the Holy See army as well as what remained of Midland's forces by now.
On top of that, when he and his forces returned to the city, he discovered that the inhabitants that he had been holding hostage as leverage had managed to escape as well. Damn that resistance band as well! They snuck the citizens out of the city while the bulk of his forces were away. With his leverage gone, the Band of the Hawk with the united armies of Midland would be making the final move against him now.
He still had his hundred thousand Kushan soldiers at his disposal placed outside of the city near the southern entrance. But he knew it would not be enough. With an army of apostles marching on them led by a God Hand… it didn't matter how many soldiers he stationed outside of the city, it would all be in vain. He needed power, more power than he had already as was his divine right.
He was left with one last ditch option. Ganishka proceeded to the store housing unit that had been used to birth the daka. All the impregnated women were long gone, snatched away by that meddlesome knight, Sir Laban. But the one thing that remained was the cage holding the captured and tortured apostles that he had defeated and had Daiba fashion into a shortcut to the abyss without the need of summoning the God Hand.
Daiba, the failure that he was if he was bested in magic by a boy, had examined the behelit of Ganiska, figuring out that the power bestowed upon apostles had to have come from somewhere. If enough were gathered and sprinkled with a little magic, there was a way to the darkness beyond.
"Emperor Ganishka!" the guard on duty graciously bowed at his arrival.
"Rise," Ganishka gave a lazy motion of his hand. "Open the top of the cage."
"What is it that's going in, Divine One?"
Ganishka steeled his resolve. "I shall be going in."
The guard was taken aback. "B-But, Emperor...! If you go in, how will-?"
Ganishka grabbed him by the shoulders of his armor, yanking him up to meet his dark eyes. "I am your Emperor, your one divine ruler! You will do as ordered, soldier! The sun will not set on the glorious Kushan Empire today! My strength, my success, lies with this strategy! With the power gifted to me, I shall crush these peasants underfoot!" he shoved the young guard to the ground. "Open the top of the cage, now!"
"Y-yes, Emperor Ganishka! Of course, Emperor Ganishka!"
The wrought iron top was opened and Ganishka tied a rope around his waist, being hoisted down to the swirling pit that congregated with the abomination of apostle bodies. It was a last ditch effort, he had been reborn as an apostle after being betrayed by his previous wife and son. Their lives made for his sacrifice to first become an apostle, now… he had nothing to sacrifice to obtain more. And power always came with a sacrifice that had to be made. Ganishka opened his mouth and the mist of his apostle form seeped out, covering his body as he was lowered into the pit.
The mist did not stop there however, it filled the storehouse, and out of the open windows. It was spreading all across the street of Windham, to the poorest gutter to the castle resting at the very heart of the city.
Ganishka could not see much, the swirling energy flooded all his senses. His body felt larger, though. It was like he was growing to occupy the mist that had seeped from his mouth, but it had no plans of ever stopping. There was a beating noise. Was it the sounds of the Band of the Hawk approaching, was it his own heartbeat, or… something else?
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
"God?" Ganishka uttered the word, and his mind went blank. The only word that kept repeating was the one thing he could comprehend through all of this darkness. A shining, shimmering, ray of bright light. "Light. Light. Light. Light. Light… light, light, light…"
The morning air was frigid, though it probably would not last long with the change of seasons on the horizon. But Laban could still see his breath as he exhaled, still tired from his escapade from a few nights previous. He had been able to sneak the remaining population of Windham out of the city by dressing them in the garb of Kushan foot soldiers, sneaking them out in a military fashion, so the actual Kushan would be none the wiser. It had been hours of work, but the results would speak for themselves when the time came.
Minister Foss was tending to his daughter and many other Midland children at the moment. Laban knew Foss to be a bit of a political snake, a spy for the King's second wife, but Foss' love for his daughter was genuine. His paternal instincts must have kicked in seeing how many orphans there were now; it was perhaps his best redeeming feature.
Ganishka still occupied the city, but that would not last for long. Laban and his escape party had joined with the Forces of the Band of the Hawk, led by none other than Sir Griffith. Laban had assumed him dead like so many others, but the proof was right in front of him, and with Princess – no, Queen Charlotte vouching for him, it was irrefutable. His good friend Sir Owen was among those who had traveled from Vritannis, joining their strength together with Griffith's. if Laban had to guess, he would say they had close to thirty thousand now against over a hundred thousand Kushan troops.
The odds did not appear to be in their favors, but Griffith had pulled off amazing feats back during the war with Chuder, winning victories left, right, and center like they were nothing. He had even retaken the Fortress of Doldrey, a feat that was considered impossible, and yet, Griffith had managed to do it. If anyone was capable of defeating this powerful Kushan Emperor, it would be Griffith.
However, as relieved as Laban was to see much-needed reinforcements, it did beg the question of how and where Griffith had made a recovery from the torture inflicted on him. The King had imprisoned him for a year, barely keeping him alive, and there had been no word from the scouts sent out after Griffith had been rescued about any trace of the Band of Hawk. It wasn't Laban's business to question, but it did linger in his mind as he saw Griffith seated atop his white stallion, eyeing the city of Windham from a distance. A thick fog seemed to have encompassed the entire city.
"Nervous, my friend?" Owen approached him.
"I'd be a fool if I wasn't." Laban took a chug from his wineskin filled with fresh stream water. It wasn't just soldiers from the Hawks or Midland Knights in attendance here today. The ones rescued from the city, the people from the country Griffith had rescued, the Queen and her handmaiden, the forces from Vritannis, all were here in assembly. Griffith had promised that this would end today, and Laban would hold him to his word. "We should station some elite soldiers to guard the queen, or at the very least have the civilians moved to a further location." They were a safe distance from the city, but too close for comfort. This open field provided little protection should the Kushan launch a surprise attack.
Bwaaaaaaahhh! Bwaaaaaaaahhh! Bwaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!
A war horn blew thrice. Laban and Owen galloped to the second line of Midland Knights, Griffith was insistent that his Band of the Hawk be the first to enter the fray, they would take the bulk of the enemy. "This is where it all changes," Owen wiped some sweat from his brow.
"I suppose it does," Laban swallowed.
The foggy mist that had coated the entire city of Windham was suddenly drawn in like someone sucking air through their lips. It was hard to see, but it looked to be stemming from one central location from within the city, sucking it all in until all the mist had been gobbled up. What happened next, would not have been a challenge for a blind man to see.
From where the mist had disappeared, a very solid mass was emerging. It looked to be a giant face of Emperor Ganishka, but it was a dull, leather-like flesh. No, there was another face and another. It took Laban a second, but he realized what he was seeing was a multitude of faces, all joined together to form a single – body?
That was what it looked like; a single, massive, body that had to be the width of the city itself. And it was growing. The faces, they were multiplying, spreading, not just stopping at the body, but spreading downward to form two, gargantuan legs and flat feet that could flatten their entire army underfoot with just one press. And still, it grew. Growing taller and higher, standing up full, and still finding a way to surpass the insurmountable might that it already had. The faces, however big many of them were, were now indistinguishable from one another, still present, but all joined to form the towering giant. Perhaps giant was the wrong word, this being was still growing, it was taller than any mountain, its legs, when spread, could space between the city of Windham. The "head" of this thing was not visible; it was hidden somewhere up in the clouds above. Correction, the clouds parted as the head touched them, forming an O ring around like a halo. And the arms, there were not two, two would not be enough. No, there were hundreds of pairs of arms jutting out from the straight-as a-stick torso. Each was long, unruly, wiggling about like a snake. This was no monster, this was a god. An angry, vengeful god that struck terror into the hearts of all those who looked up at its divine appearance.
"Is… t-that the Emperor?!" many a soldier called out, the smell of urine filled the air.
"We have to retreat! Sound the horn!"
But Griffith and his Band of Hawk sat on their horses, staring out at the Divine Emperor like it was nothing. Griffith raised his hawk-like helm, sky-blue eyes looking up, trying to distinguish the true face of the Emperor from this towering deity.
Griffith raised his hand, ordering any and all retreat to stop. "Sir Griffith!" young Mule Wolflame cried out. "We have to retreat! There is no way to combat against that!"
"Mule, stay with the Queen," Griffith ordered. "Only engage if you absolutely have to."
How can he sound so calm? Laban felt his beard itch. This is suicide if we attack.
Brrrrrmmm!
The Emperor had taken a step. His city-sized foot came crashing down on his own army. When the Emperor lifted his foot to take another step, tiny flecks fell from the bottom of the rounded foot. For as large as the Emperor was, he was moving slowly, the sheer size of his body weighing him down. The same could not be said for the flecks that had fallen from the bottom of his foot. Laban thought that they were just the dead bodies of the Kushan soldiers, but they were moving. Moving right toward the assembled Midland Restoration Force.
They look like… small trees, Laban realized. Like miniature versions of the Emperor.
"Those are demons!" a few soldiers took to shouting. "A god and demons! We must retreat!"
"Sir Griffith, we beg you listen to reason, we cannot win this!"
Griffith's almost angelic face remained unperturbed. He raised his hand, and the entire Band of the Hawk paid attention to what he was about to say. "War Demons, release."
There were multiple flashes of light, and the so-called "War Demons" of the Band of the Hawk became just that; demons. Gallant Sir Locus looked to be a centaur-like creature that held no trace of organic matter, just a shiny metallic surface, and a long, lance-like blade. The lone archer, Sir Irvine looked to be a giant direwolf with two horns and a strong string running between them; his torso protruded from above the hind legs, looking more wolfish himself. Sir Grunbeld, the tallest man alive, looked like a giant wingless dragon covered in glowing red and orange fiery crystals. The dark cloaked figure of Rakshas cackled in delight, holding two thin knives that poked out from his cloak. Then the form of Zodd, covered in dark fur, two large goat legs, a single horn, and snarling lion-like face.
There were others. A fast-moving green and turquoise blur that looked to be a girl with butterfly wings flying through the ranks, one with a strong crocodile mouth, ones with long, pointed heads, two mouths, dark fur, large, leathery wings; all sorts of things that should have been in children's fairy tales. This was looking less like a battlefield and more like a nightmare.
The War Demons charged, engaging in combat with the corpses of the Kushan forces transformed by the power of their Emperor. Grunbeld rammed two, crushing them with his large, crystal-covered feet, and further incinerating them with his fire breath.
Locus also seemed to dance as he galloped his way through the Kushan. His long, shiny, lance impaling three straight through. He galloped over to more, his movements blurred as his lance twirled around. But not a drop of blood staining his metallic body.
Irvine plucked some hair from his tail, and with a snap of his wrist, the hair straightened into the body of an arrow. With the organic string running between his two horns, he made a clean shot, sticking one of the approaching demons through the eye socket.
Rosine was a blur as she flew up high, only to then dive back down, cutting and breaking the flesh of the enemy demons with her extended stinger. While her venom worked, paralyzing the Kushan demons, Irvine took aim, finishing them off.
As for Zodd, he used his goat legs to kick the Kushan demons, with his bare hands tearing them in half. Growing his wings, Zodd kicked off, running three demons through with his singular horn. Giving a mighty, war cry as his opponents fell to the ground, never to rise again.
This is it! Zodd thought as he lifted a Kushan demon high above his head, breaking its body in half. This is a true war! A war between demons and gods!
Zodd tossed the broken halves at more approaching Kushan demons as the Emperor made to take another step toward them. The mighty foot sent shock waves throughout the ground, rattling teeth. As mighty as he and the other War Demons were, some seemed to be getting overwhelmed.
"To their aid!" one of those Midland Knights called, leading a weak Calvary charge. The humans were actually… aiding the War Demons? They could see with their own eyes what they were, but if one demon fought against one that was trying to end their lives, which might have had something to do with it. This would never happen under any normal circumstance of war. All the more reason for their leading God Hand to keep up his disguise. They would not follow him after the dust settled if he were to reveal himself now and end the Emperor where he towered over everything.
Zodd roared again, taking flight, and diving back down to impale more with his horn. Rosine took after his example, following a group of fliers, and swooping down to attack in a similar fashion. From the parted clouds up above from where the mouth must have been, balls of fire soared down; raining like it was the end of the world. Perhaps that isn't too far off.
The fire struck demons on both sides of the battlefield, not discriminating against any. The Emperor had clearly lost his mind to the power, moved only by basic instinct and urge. For all of his size, he was nothing more than just a puppet to power. Powerful, yes, but a failure who could not accept the role that was given to him. He wanted to defy the God Hand? Did he not think they knew all about it? They had planned it. This war, everything. Zodd knew he was just a pawn in it as well, but at least his desire for battle would be granted through this power play.
"Captian Zodd!" the God Hand in disguise called out to him. "I am in need of your assistance!"
He wasn't, of course, but the illusion had to be kept for those watching.
Zodd quickened his descent to the ground, making sure to squish some enemy demons beneath his hooves as he did do. "Sir Griffith, what would you have of me?" Like I don't already know.
"Take me to the head of the Emperor! This war comes to an end now!" Zodd offered him a paw to climb up onto his back. As soon as he was on, Zodd took to the air. The massive foot of Emperor Ganishka came crashing down once more, closer still to the rest of the forces and watching civilians.
Up he flew, leaving the fight behind and toward the true objective. The many arms of the Emperor twisted and turned, each trying its best to reach them, to swat them out of the sky, to grab them and crush them. The multitude of eyes on the faces that covered the body of this giant followed them, tracking their movement as they ascended higher and higher still, straight up to the top where the head of the Emperor resided.
Stonehenge, Scotland
Dumbledore looked at his assembled Order of the Phoenix. There was Minerva, Filius, a recently healed Alastor Moody, Dedalus Diggle, and Elphias Doge. Severus had to retain his position as a double agent, but where were Remus and Sirius? They should have gotten the message for a call to arms. He would have boded more on this if not for the scene of death that awaited them just outside the stone monoliths.
Muggle bodies lay strewn all across the ground. Bodies of men, women, and children all lay dead; killed for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was the work of Death Eaters for sure. The Dark Mark hovering above didn't need to be in place to figure that out.
"Do you like it, Dumbledore?" a cold voice spoke from behind one of the monoliths. "I wanted to leave a surprise for when you arrived. I do hope that it did not disappoint."
"You look much different, Tom." Severus had been telling the truth about his appearance. "And much of what you do is disappointing. We all had high hopes for you when you were back at school."
"And you opened the doors for me, and for that, I am grateful." His red eyes gleamed. "But all the magical education Hogwarts had to offer could not begin to compare to what a deal with angels could provide. The divine conquers the mortal."
"This is quite bold of you, making a move in broad daylight," Dumbledore noted. "Do you carry the protection of angels? I never took you for being very religious. And it will not save you from when the DMLE arrives. You will not be able to hide in the shadows any longer."
"Who's hiding?" Voldemort smiled cruelly. "I have nothing to fear, not even from you." The Death Eaters he had brought with him emerged.
"I would suspect not. You have your followers here with you." Dumbledore counted twelve in total.
"And you brought members from you Order," Voldemort smiled. "You are in no position to insinuate that I am a coward. Especially when you call for help from your Ministry." He looked to Bellatrix Lestrange who was glaring at Alastor. "Would you kindly give a demonstration, Bella? Show them why we have nothing to fear."
It was like a black, form-fitting smoke coated Bellatrix's body; the only visible features were her glowing purple eyes. She cackled madly as she floated across the ground like a specter through a graveyard. Her form seemed to pass right through Alastor. He kept to his phrase of "constant vigilance," firing off a handful of spells including a few killing curses before she made a pass through his body.
"Aaagh!" Moody dropped to his knees, crying in pain.
"Fitting," Voldemort stroked his wand. "Death Eaters taking the form of specter-like ghosts. You can wide that look off your face, Dumbledore, my power lies beyond that."
Dumbledore wasn't sure who fired off the next curse, but spells began flying, but none seemed to damage the stone monoliths that made up the popular structure. The Death Eaters that Voldemort brought with him all assumed the form Bellatrix currently possessed, stalking through the structure, launching spells of their own and making charges through the bodies of the assembled Order members.
Minerva was dueling both Lestrange brothers, keeping a distance so that neither would run her through.
Filius was taking on two as well. His skill as an ex-dueling champion showed as he launched several spells that kept the smoke form of the Death Eaters at bay. As skilled as Filius was, he had yet to produce a spell that caused any lasting damage to the Death Eaters.
Dedalus Diggle and Elphias Doge already lay dead, their bodies joining the slaughtered muggles, and their eyes staring helplessly off into space.
Dumbledore himself dueled with Voldemort, both wizards lobbing off jets of spells left and right. Dumbledore fired off five consecutive stunners in a row, all of which Voldemort knocked aside, a taunting smile on his new features. Kicking it up a notch, Dumbledore sent a bombarda at Voldemort's feet, pushing him back a ways.
"Avada Kedvra!" Voldemort yelled, a jet of green shot from his wand. Not able to dodge in time, Dumbledore sent his Patronus to act as a shield, taking the full blast of the killing curse. "You're not tiring already, are you, Dumbledore? I'm just barely warmed up."
"Expelliarmus!" Dumbledore went with one of the more common spells, knowing it would infuriate Voldemort to be treated like a child. Voldemort's red eyes watched as his wand went flying out of his hand. "Surrender, Tom. The DMLE will be here shortly. Your plans are foiled."
Even without a wand, the smile never left Voldemort's face. "Depalso!" Dumbledore was knocked back off of his feet by Voldemort's use of wandless magic. "Like I said, Dumbledore, making a deal with angels was more beneficial than anything that I learned while I was at school. Thanks to them, my body was restored. I am made of pure magic. I need no wand to kill you." His red eyes shone with malice. "Crucio!"
It was like getting stabbed by hundreds of knives, his insides were on fire, his brain was melting out of his ears, he was hearing his sister's screams once again.
Several loud pops rang out through the air, and the pain lessened. He saw Amelia Bones rushing to the scene with two dozen Aurors following in her stead. The sight of the Dark Mark hanging high overhead told the entire story to them more than words ever could.
"Death Eaters, to me!" Voldemort shouted, his voice magically amplified. "Today marks the first day of our victory over fools like Dumbledore! Our ceremony here is complete, the gate is open, waiting for the bridge to be lowered from the other side!" his wand floated back into his outstretched hand. Before anyone from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement could fire off a spell, Voldemort and his Death Eaters disapparated from the scene. Only a pile of corpses, runic symbols, and the Dark Mark were left of their work there today.
Minerva and Amelia helped him to his feet; his head hung low in shame. Voldemort might have made his existence known, but it did not matter. They had failed.
Zodd came to a landing on the top of the Emperor's head. Instead of a done, the head seemed to cave in a bit like a crater. The surface was decorated with more faces of the Emperor, all much smaller than what made up the rest of the body, these were more human-sized. But there was one face that stood out above the rest. Right in the center of the crater-like head, was a face that was glowing. Unlike the others, this one had its eyes shut tight.
Offering his paw, Zodd let the disguised God Hand off of his back. At last, Femto dropped the disguise. The white armor became dark, the helm became one with his flesh, and his cape was now the leathery wings. Up here they were away from the prying eyes of the rest of the humans. No one would need to know what was about to happen up here, but they would live with the results.
Femto knelt down, his hand outstretched; ready to touch the face of the Emperor. And then there was a ripple; vertical slash that a sword emerged from. A sword that glowed, and was covered in the facial features of behelits.
From out of that ripple in the fabric of reality, a mounted figure stepped out. Sitting astride his horse was one of the ones Zodd longed to fight against; the one who called himself Skull Knight. That reality-defying sword of his was raised high above him, ready to cut down on Femto, perhaps be the first to deal the first real damage against him.
"Rraggh!" Zodd roared, charging forward. It had less to do with protecting Femto, but more to be the one to best this nemesis once and for all. There didn't need to be an audience, all that needed to happen was the fight.
But something happened. Femto caught the strike. Not the sword, but the energy that came from it, it was held between his long fingers like a quill. "I was wondering when you would show up. Void suspected you would, and Slan informed me of this sword of yours. It fit all too well. I thank you."
Femto put the strike on the face of Emperor Ganishka who opened his eyes to see it happen. The face began to split apart, a massive wave of energy being released in the process. Zodd and Femto took flight, avoiding what was to come.
Laban could not believe what he was witnessing; humans and demons fighting alongside one another to fight other demons. If the one known as the Black Swordsman were here, which side would he have fought on? He was said to slay demons, but what would he think of something like this? Hell, what did Laban think of all of this?
Before he could get ready to stab another Kushan demon, the thing suddenly dropped dead. All of the Kushan demons started to drop dead. The main body of the Emperor was releasing a blinding white light, spreading from the head, all down its body, and outward as well.
It was a giant wave of dazzling white energy that, much like an empire, kept spreading. It spread over the land, it spread over mountains, it spread through the forest, it was spreading over the entire continent, across the entire world.
From the deck of the Sea Horse, Harry felt the journey going smooth. Roderick had promised smooth seas and that was what he had delivered so far. Casca was chasing Puck around the deck, Isidro was climbing the mast. Serpico was chatting with one of the crew, and Guts was leaning against the rail; his body wrapped in gauze from the last fight.
Harry meanwhile stood by one of the rails with Schierke and Farnese, going over how to perform a spell. "And Roderick was okay with you wanting to learn magic?" Harry asked.
"He said it would be fascinating to have a betrothed who could perform spells," Farnese admitted. "I don't know if he was being serious or not, but… it is nice to know that he does not plan to impede my progress to become a witch."
"That's good to hear, Farnese," Schierke smiled at their only pupil. "Now, the thing to keep in mind about this spell is-,"
"All hands on deck!" Roderick shouted. "Get us in prime wind direction!"
And Harry saw why he was giving the orders; a giant wall of white energy was racing toward the ship ready to overtake them. No matter how fast they traveled, they weren't going to be able to outrun it. "Brace for impact!"
Harry and everyone else grabbed tight to the nearest thing nailed down on the Sea Horse. A sensation familiar to entering his luminous body filled Harry and it was like he was being pulled. Pulled up, down, from the sides, from both physical and astral.
The Sea Horse rocked, the blinding flash of white had passed, and a wave splashed over the side of the ship. Harry spit some of it out. It… didn't taste salty. It tasted fresh.
"All hands, report," Roderick wiped some water from his brow.
"Land ho, Captain!" the call came from the crow's-nest.
That wasn't possible, they were three days out at sea, and there should be no land. But sure enough, off the port side, there was land. Land and another ship anchored not too far from shore. There was an expanse of forest, and overlooking everything was an ancient looking castle.
Outside of Windham
No one could believe their eyes. There was no Windham; a new city was in place. Polished white and looking like the capital from the time of old King Gaiseric. It was a paradise looking place, fresh and new. All of their eyes were drawn toward it. But it was nothing compared to where this city was located. The giant body of the Emperor had not crumbled or fallen to pieces, but it had changed. It was a giant white tree. The arms were branches, spreading out into the sky, encompassing all, connecting not just their world, but the heavens above. it was the largest tree in the world; the World Tree.
Zodd landed in front of them all, offering a paw for Griffith to dismount. The savior of humanity pointed toward the city. And it was like a painting. The World Tree and the White Hawk.
A/N: So it finally happened, I've been hinting at it since the first scene of chapter 1 with Firenze, but this was the point where Harry is back in the HP side of things. I tried to make references to this point whenever mentioning magic by trying to fit in a comparison to a tree. With the World Tree in place, all astral layers can be connected, hence why the ritual with Sirius and Remus was able to work. I'm looking forward to writing the coming chapters, and Happy St. Patrick's Day. Thank you for reading.