Chapter 15 – Secrets of the Glyph
Feeble fingers forced their way through a minute crack of rubble, if with some difficulty, a trickle of blood beginning to flow from cuts and bruises upon it. Harry pulled himself from the ruins of the corridor he was running through mere minutes ago, not quite aware of his surroundings, but thankful in his mind that he was alive at least. It wasn't a great feeling to find yourself buried over your head in stone, gasping for air. A sudden thought sped through his mind and he almost pulled his hair out in worry.
'RON!' he shouted aloud, desperately looking for his friend. He'd lost him in the blast that had caught them off guard. A steady bead of anxious sweat rolled down his face. 'RON!' he shouted again, a few paces away to his right another small heap of rubble stirred, and Ron's familiar face emerged from it, looking thoroughly unclean.
'Urgh!' he choked, coughing up a mixture of dirt and dust as he freed himself from his stone prison, 'That didn't feel very good!'
Despite feeling like a worn wreck, Harry still found it in himself to laugh somewhat at what Ron had said. Trust him to put things down to such little worry as possible. But his general thoughts laid elsewhere. He quickly plunged his hand into his robe pockets and retrieved his wand. Miraculously it was unbroken, in as perfect condition as he'd put it in to begin with.
'Phew!' he breathed a sigh of relief, glad his wand was intact, 'That was a close one.' Ron did the same, checking for his wand, yet retrieved it bearing a grimace. Looking rather disdainfully at the few broken shards of wood in his hands he dropped the remains to the ground below.
'Too close this time!' He spoke with despair, disappointed at losing yet another wand while Harry's escaped unscathed, 'Mum's gonna kill me for sure when I see her again. You'll have to address your letters to my grave in the holidays ok.'
Ron swore loudly at his own misfortune, and the unearthly echo that came from it brought them both to reality, and they took in what was left of their surroundings. A gasp left their mouths at once.
Though the attack had ended some time ago, the damage was done. Hogwarts was still discernable beneath the destruction, but it had certainly been changed. Where Ron and Harry had been running was a floor high above ground level that led towards Gryffindor tower. However, when the blast had hit, the shockwave had evidently destroyed almost the entire corridor plus much of the surrounding area and looking down to his feet, Harry saw to his horror he was mere inches from the edge of a drop that went down for some thirty or so meters to the grounds below. Hastily he stood back, breathing heavily at almost falling.
Ron had noticed as well, and at once he forgot his wand and just thanked his lucky stars he'd survived the explosion at all. Perhaps, Harry had thought then in that instance, the charms and enchantments applied to the castle may have had some effect afterall in saving their lives. But as he looked about himself, he was sure that they hadn't worked as intended, Hogwarts was almost completely in ruins. Few of the many spires that had existed were still standing, those that had survived, teetered on the edge of collapse, still posing a danger to anyone below them. The great north tower that had played host to Harry's Divination lessons was nothing but a crumbling mass of stone, only it's base remaining where it had once stood. The sight proving utterly ominous the longer they both stared at it, a strong message hitting home of how dangerous the world had become, if there was anything left out there to be called a magical world. Last they'd heard, muggles had taken almost every important magical posting in the British Isles, the ministry itself being but one of them. And just by looking, the scene about them only served to justify their domination.
A yell broke the air, Harry and Ron both snapping their heads about to see the commotion. It was Mrs Weasley.
'MY BOYS! OH THANK HEAVENS YOUR BOTH SAFE!' the two friends found themselves being pulled into a bone crushing hug, the over exuberant woman shedding numerous tears on their shoulders even as they struggled to get free. 'Oh I thought I'd lost you two…' she continued, not relinquishing her stranglehold on them both, as if by some cruel misfortune they were still in danger. Behind her, trudging haphazardly amongst the debris, Arthur followed. His clothes were almost as battered and torn as Harry's, but he looked almost energetic as he hurried over towards them.
'You oughta be ashamed of yourselves,' Arthur badgered the two rather frustratingly, 'not being about where we could find you both, the nerve you two have.' Though it was clear by the expression on his face that he was just as glad as Molly was that they were alive. Though none of them realised, many of their fellow students hadn't been so lucky.
Walking slowly through the ruined remains of the castle, Arthur told them both how he and his wife were almost killed in a similar explosion, indicating to a long cut on the side of his face. Molly explained shortly afterwards that she'd been looking for them and almost gave up any hope of finding them alive were it not for her husband's valiant efforts at keeping her sane. It would really have been an interesting tale to listen to were they not in a war zone. Their minds all drifting back to the grisly sight before them. Arthur motioning at one stage to a lone arm that protruded out, unmoving from beneath a heavy block of granite, a small, splattered streak of blood being the only evidence of the speed at which the person beneath it had died, most probably crushed to death in an instant. A horrible way to die, but at least it had been quick, though there was no way to determine who that arm belonged to, it's apparent anonymousness providing Harry with very shallow comfort indeed.
As they walked on, occasionally tripping on debris, they all saw similar sights to that of before. A few survivors with blackened faces were sitting huddled coldly around a magically conjured fire, extending their hands dangerously close to the flames as though they didn't really sense the heat from them at all. Others had started scavenging what they could from the remains of their common rooms, hoping that they might find some of their belongings, not willing to let the waste consume them. It was pitiful to watch, yet saddening at the same time. At one moment Ron was confronted by a tattered Ravencalw student who quickly started kneeling at his feet waving a makeshift white flag.
'I surrender! I surrender! Please don't kill me… I …I swear I'll do anything. ANYTHING!' she pleaded with the red headed boy through a myriad of tears, her bloodied hands tugging insanely at his sleeves. Ron cast a fearful gaze to his parents, who looked thoroughly horror-struck at the display the young student was putting on. Arthur shook his head in dismay.
'She's gone mad.' He stated as a matter of factly, eyeing her with a touch of sympathy. Molly knelt down and was casting some medical spells on her from what little she knew of the subject. Madam Pomfrey was the one they really needed. And in time as they continued on, they left her with a group of shell shocked kids who had gathered in the remnants of Hogwarts' courtyard and were quite openly not insane in any way. Yet the carnage was wide spread. There were others who were just as mad, often shaking and muttering incoherently to themselves, not making a word of sense whatsoever. While others still were horribly burned or missing limbs, their consciousness not really centered on reality as we knew it. It was horrible for sure, that went without saying. A single look to the horizon was all that was necessary. The day was slowly moving into a subtle dusk, but the deep oranges and red's of the setting sun were marred by tall spires of black smoke that rose from the ruins of the castle. A tower here, and protruding semblance of a wall there, only the most prominent features of Hogwarts' remained. And after it all a lone question worked it's way into Harry's mind… 'Why?'
Frustrated groans echoed through the Glyph caves as Dumbledore stood alert, waiting. Three sweat covered wizards came shuffling back. They had the look of coal miners, covered in black ash from head to toe, only the irises of their eyes visible in the failing light of the cave. One of them spoke.
'Well professor, we've tried every curse we can think of, nothing is budging that rock.'
The other two wizards nodded quickly in agreement as Dumbledore eyed them appraisingly. He didn't seem even the slightest bit perturbed by this, however concerned the other wizards seemed.
'Are you sure there's no other way out of this cave Professor?' the smaller of the three men asked, his head barely reaching the headmaster's chin, 'I think it's clear no one's getting out that way, the bombardment must have blocked up the entrance tight.'
Dumbledore stood for a moment stroking his white beard, thinking. The wizards looked eagerly to him for an answer, leaning slightly forwards as he considered them.
'That is our exit, there are no ways into the caves but the entrance we took to come here, we will leave as we came.'
The three looked to him feeling rather perplexed, still not confident there was any way out short of Apparating, and there was no chance of doing that as Hogwarts' magic still stretched enough to prevent them. Dumbledore took their confused looks in his stride and motioned his way passed them into the darkness of the caves, withdrawing his wand. In a tired old voice he sighed.
'If you wish a job done properly you must do it yourself…'
Harry walked the grounds alone, having grown tired of moving between different casualties with Ron. He couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt at it all however. None of it was his fault, sure, he understood that. But it was strange. He remembered that all too familiar voice that even now echoed in his mind. "I am the alpha and the omega, the beginning… and the end!" He remembered hearing that same, cold voice before. His dreams before he came to Hogwarts for sixth year, they had the same voice. But in that he felt absolutely stupid.
"There's no connection!" he kept repeating vainly to himself, but the thought lingered and he couldn't remove it from his mind. "What if there was? What if I'm somehow intricately related to all this? Wouldn't be the first time." He looked out at the castle's ruined facade and wondered. If he were involved, this could be entirely his fault! Oh what a thought that was. But he knew that kind of thinking wasn't logical, and it didn't help him one bit either. But Hogwarts… He shuddered inwardly. "Don't think about it!" He'd always had this uncanny ability to be so angst about himself, always taking full responsibility for things, keeping the blame solely for himself. Not surprising that almost everything revolved around him. How he hated being so famous.
"BANG!", his thoughts snapped as a huge blast sounded in his ears up ahead of him. He instinctively ducked with his hands over his head, watching as the blast threw up tons of earth and stone in a horrendous shower of debris. But not another sound whispered after that. Looking intensely towards the site, from his view he could see a giant hole some thirteen meters across blasted into the earth. Keeping himself hidden behind a rock he watched. To his joy, Dumbledore emerged from the pit, wand still in hand. And at once all Harry's fears disappeared. Only Dumbledore could help in a time like this, so he hurriedly rushed over to him, a sudden look of relief spreading over the old man's face the moment he was seen…
Far from the battered and broken spires of Hogwarts, beyond the soft, rolling green hills of it's own grounds. Further even, than the great forbidden forest…. a lone, dark figure walked. Robed in pitch black that not even the darkness of night could rival. He walked on, not faltering a step, his metal greave boots creating a harsh clank like sound as he went. The arms of the robe revealing two spiked, metal gauntlets over each hand that flexed and strained with each tensing. And beneath his hood, a scarred and angered face, the cold sting of hatred for all life clinging to his near completely black eyes.
Marius.
Clearing the forest, he spied before him the remains of a stone built gate, some eight meters high if measured from the ground. And beyond that, the charred, burning remains of what was once the largest all wizard town in Britain… Hogsmeade. Cold, seeping hate filled him, the same hate he felt when Dumbledore had mortified him on the school grounds, the very same hate that consumed him when he remembered the culprits behind this peaceful town's destruction; Muggles! Casting his eyes across the remains of the town, he felt aware of the numerous eyes that were secretly watching him. You couldn't see them, but he knew the muggles were there. Amongst the ruins, probably entrenched like moles where you couldn't easily get to them. He knew. He'd faced muggles in combat before, during his Auror years. No one knew much of it of course, it was a simple thing he kept to himself, but he relished the thoughts he held of it. But it was all washed beneath his hate for them, his own loathing of their decrepit species. Yes, that's what they were. They weren't human at all, just another species of animal. Stubborn and weak…
Knowing what must be done, he closed his eyes momentarily, and from beneath his very skin, cruelly shaped metal armor grew, steadily enshrouding his entire face. With long serrated blades, slanted eyes and a near screaming mouth, his helmet grew to his character, which could only be described as an agent of pure evil.
(AN: I've drawn what Marius in his armor looks like. Go to my personal website located in my profile to see him.)
It was a ritual object, embedded within his face at a young age. And he felt the stabbing ecstasy of pride that filled him as he wore it. His family would be proud, the old ways that had been handed down to him through generations sung to him in a sadistic verse. They were still strong, much blood was to be spilt this day, his armor demanded it, and it would be appeased.
Arching himself back, he let out an almighty shriek of sound, it's pitch unbearable on the ears as he continued that long, dragging note, as if to alert all to his presence, which was what he wanted. And then he silenced. Sound disappeared, but for a moment when
a soft rumble sounded from the forest behind him… louder, and louder it grew, the very ground beginning to shake as he stood there, his own heartless expression unseen beneath the multiple plates of black metal that adorned his face. And when the trees parted, his retinue appeared… Heliopaths. Over two thousand burned through the trees and spilled through the gates into Hogsmeade, a lust for blood wet on their lips as they surged on, Marius's cold laughter sounding out across the ashes.
A very slow day snailed by since the bombardment, as not everyone was back to their cheerful selves. Understandable of course, many still heard whistling noises in their ears when they thought of the day's events. The shelling itself had lasted only a short time, but it left an irreparable legacy in it's wake. One of fear. Not a single muggle had been seen prior to the bombardment, yet such was the precise nature of the strike, rumors were spreading of the unseen eyes that were watching them constantly. Relaying movements, directing attacks… everything. And no one felt safe because of it, that is what it meant to be a slave, constantly living in fear.
Segregating himself as best he could from the crowd, Harry shied from the circulating rumor mill that had enveloped those left alive. He didn't feel like becoming part of the gossip. Heaven only knew that he didn't wish to be accountable for a panic through misinformation as such a thing had often occurred, but nevertheless, his thoughts embraced the idea from time to time and he felt guilty because of it. Were there really muggles nearby, perhaps amidst the survivors themselves? Are we still in danger? Hours went on, but the thoughts failed to leave him. Only Dumbledore's esteeming presence helped to ease his mind despite him looking just as tired and wearied as he.
It had proved a surprise when Albus took him aside that afternoon as dusk began to approach, a steady glimmer of magenta streaking the sky in large bands, as though a stark reflection of the blood spilt that day. With his robes still as immaculate as ever, the aging headmaster walked beyond the ruined walls of the castle with Harry at his side, an air of concern, or perhaps doubt about him as he talked of his worries, occasionally staring at giant sections of ruined walls or towers that had bore the full brunt of the attack. More often than not, they had been marred by enormous holes from missiles or shells, that in some cases, measured eight meters in diameter.
Conversation was varied, but the core subject remained the same. Was Hogwarts still in danger? And to this, Albus regrettably nodded his head, clearly remembering what little warning his students had before the last attack. He shuddered bitterly at the thought. Though it hadn't escaped Harry's wonder at why Dumbledore chose him in particular to talk to, until he abruptly stopped and found himself staring at the entrance of an ancient, dark, cave.
'Welcome Harry,' the old wizard began in his fatherly tones, 'to the Glyph caves…' and with a gesture, Harry walked into the gloom, the darkness shrouding him from the moment of entry. At first he felt rather stupid for entering the cave, until it was that Dumbledore illuminated the cave suddenly with a flame levitating over his left hand. The mage strode past his questioning gaze, and led the boy from there on in. His journey took him through a myriad of tunnels and passageways that had seemed by all probability, to have been carved from years of running water. Never did they walk in a straight line for long, as Harry found himself rounding so many corners that he quickly lost his sense of direction and knew that he'd never be able to find his way out if his life depended on it. He secretly prayed it wouldn't come to that. Yet despite this fact, and the ever apparent darkness that always appeared to creep in upon them, Dumbledore walked on, seeming to know precisely where he was going.
A gentle breeze passed through the caves and into the weaving of Harry's robes, which was shocking as it chilled him to the bone. Dumbledore chuckled heartily as he watched the boy vainly try to wrap his clothes tighter about himself in an attempt to halt the air.
'Never you mind the wind Harry. It chills the passageways often these days, watching the comings and goings of all who pass through here.' Harry looked curiously to the wizard who stared back in his usual fatherly fashion. What did he mean? 'The wind will do us no harm, it exists solely for the purposes of the people who reside within the earth.'
Harry stopped mid stride and stared horror struck about his surroundings.
'People?!' he choked between gasps, 'There are people living down here, in this?' he gestured to the rotten nature of the caves, seemingly torn about whether or not anyone could truly call a place like this home. Dumbledore fixed the teen with a sturdy eye, but leveled a frown at the same time as he continued to walk.
'Yes Harry, people do live within these caves, or at least… they were people, once…' Harry watched the old man trail off, apparently lost in his own thoughts, stroking his beard and muttering incoherently to himself. It seemed for a brief moment that he'd forgotten Harry even being with him as he turned things over in his head. But finally his gaze rested on the boy again, now with a concerned look about it, as though unsure it was worth while telling him about it. He cleared his throat loudly.
'Before Hogwarts was built, wizards who originally settled this area used the caves as shelter from the magical creatures above ground, centaurs, werewolves etc… No doubt we were primitive, and magic was more an enigma, a trait past down through generations from father to son, from mother to daughter. It was totally unlike what we utilize each day ourselves, with our wands and cauldrons. Few people apart from myself know this, but in those troubled times magic was feared above all else, and those who wielded any form of power were regarded in the highest esteem. But… not wanting to deviate from the point, in order to protect ourselves and to nurture and learn of our abilities, we were driven underground. Here to be precise. It was home for them, and as generations wore on, cities grew beneath the soil and the wizard civilization as we know it was created. With safety, we learned to control our magic and develop our skills, so in speaking this is literally the place where magic was born in the British isles…'
Harry looked about the dull interior of the caves with a renewed sense of awe, surprised that this dank place of all would be the beginning of wizards and witches as he knew it. Dumbledore continued on, grasping Harry's attention effortlessly.
'At any rate, two things we are certain of. Firstly, these people learned to harness the magic within themselves and used it to their benefit. The ancient stone city of Narcissus is proof enough of that, as it alone is a work of incomprehensible art. And secondly, we know that there were no limits on the level of power these people wielded. What may have seemed trivial magic to the likes of them would not be achievable of Merlin himself, it was therefore, inevitable that their magic seeped into this very rock…' he tapped the cave walls deftly with his wand, and a brief green light shimmered through it, 'If you take this into account it is quite understandable that Hogwarts was built over these caves for that very reason. Magic as powerful as what resides here is strong enough to prevent certain types of magical travel within the school grounds. Apparating is but one example, and that alone makes Hogwarts a safe place from intruders… most of the time. You must understand Harry that no one foresaw muggles raising to challenge the wizard world in such a fashion, Hogwarts was not designed to repel a non magical assault.'
Harry nodded his head absent mindedly, still unable to fully believe what he'd heard. Looking across the dark interior of the cave, he tried to visualize masses of teeming people inhabiting them. But it was too difficult to imagine. How could anyone live in such a filthy place? The thought didn't have time enough to resonate before Dumbledore led him to a room as large as the great hall used to be, with a dozen different doorways dispersing themselves to other sections of the cave, whereabouts they may lead was anyone's guess, while it's spherical ceiling was patterned with an impressive display of ancient runes, none of which he recognized. Dumbledore walked across a stone dais to the center of the room, leaving Harry rooted to the spot. Casting a wearied gaze across the floor and walls, he turned to Harry as the boy stood slack jawed watching him, still curious. Albus motioned a old hand about himself, gesturing to the entire cavern within which they stood.
'There was once a time Harry, when the royal blood of old once inhabited this very chamber. Hogwarts was non existent then, but beneath it's soil a civilization bloomed, fed constantly with the ever present need to learn of the magical gifts they were entrusted with. These were the descendants of our great ancestors, the ones who first set foot within the Glyph caves, and their genes flowed with the strength afforded to them by their forbearers. Some years past, and a city was built here to emulate the rumored once great metropolis of Narcissus. Some four hundred thousand lived here once, but alas, no longer. Their new city, Elendaire as it was named, was destroyed by Heliopaths over two thousand years ago. This cavern…'
Dumbledore flayed his arms wide as if to encompass the space,
'was the court of the royal line. And now this is all that remains of this once proud society. Elendaire was lost in a sea of flame before Hogwarts was ever conceived, it's legacy washed away like tears in a storm, never to be realized. Sad it is that such an outcome was produced, what I would give to see the great stone court of old be revitalized again.'
Harry stared again about the room. It was very large, and he would've needed a few minutes to go over it thoroughly, but a sole thought struck him at that moment, and before he knew it he'd asked the question.
'Professor? You said that Narcissus was a rumor… but you sound as though you've seen it.' Dumbledore eyed him appraisingly for a moment, his mouth slowly turning into a smile.
'You always were bright Harry, Narcissus is no more a myth than Hogwarts is. As I have indeed seen it before with my eyes… Just imagine Harry. Stone spires taller than Hogwarts three times over, all underground, light from some unknown source sending a shine off their surfaces. Their forms so proudly preserved that it feels as though it should still teem with people that were long since dead… Never in my lifetime had I seen such beauty, but it gave me remorse at that same moment to witness those beautiful forms. You see, no one knows precisely why Narcissus faded into the rifts of time. For a few shining years it stood like a beacon against the odds. It was a safe place, safer than Hogwarts could ever be… and then it vanished, like a gentle breeze. Never to be spoken of again. It is thought by some that a great catastrophe befell it's denizens, forcing their kin to abandon the city, I do not know. However, what is certain is that Narcissus is not abandoned as some scholars may wish to see it…' Dumbledore leveled a finger towards him, 'I know, as I have seen, those that were once people still walk it's silver paved streets, their iridescent forms going about their business as if they were still alive. Yet they are not. They are neither living, nor dead, but trapped like ghosts… I dare not enter that place again, out of fear that I may become as they are…'
Harry swallowed hard, trying not to think of ghostly spirits behind him, perhaps listening to his conversation with the headmaster, and he could not resist to look quickly about himself, as if to be reassured that there truly was no one else but they. Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly, leveling his attention back on him.
'Harry, I want you to promise me now… that you will never go looking for Narcissus for as long as you live. Danger unlike anything you could possibly know resides there. That I do not know what the people of the earth desire, should be sufficient reason. And to lose you… would be unbearable.'
Harry nodded obediently as Dumbledore turned himself about and sat down upon the dusty dais of which he stood, attracting Harry's curious stare. Harry opened his mouth to speak but was silenced as quick by Albus's hand, he kept his mouth shut. Albus withdrew a dusty old book from his robe pocket.
'Here Harry, I fear I must leave you. Hogwarts lies prone to danger. With the Heliopath army at only half strength due to Marius's… foolishness, we are more vulnerable now to a frontal assault than we were previously. For now I must take steps to ensure that should the attack not come to pass soon, we are not once more bombarded from the air. Go no, you will find I have already lighted the way for you…'
Dumbledore waved his hand as Harry spun about the spot, only to witness bright blue lines etching themselves into the dirt as a makeshift pathway. Harry turned to Dumbledore again, who'd begun flicking through the pages of his book. He couldn't help but feel silent.
'I want you to inform Professor McGonagall that I have begun what I set out to do. She will understand fully when you tell her.' Harry nodded.
'Yes sir, I'll see to it.' And in a swift, yet reluctant motion, Harry followed the path in a run to the surface, not staying another moment to eye the old man further.
With Harry out of sight, Dumbledore sat in his own tired reverie, his legs crossed on the floor as he supported his book with a gangly hand. He sighed loudly, a long rasping breath issuing from his mouth. He really should be taking it easy. Events of late had pushed him further than he'd been willing to go. With an additional sigh he flicked another page in the book, motioning down the paper with his fingers. Countless spells dotted the page, some with harmless outcomes, others with more horrible looking consequences. Dark magic… evil incantations. A blood drawn picture of a man's skeleton breaking bone by bone under the curse bearer's gaze said enough to him that he was on the wrong page, and he turned it once more, blowing dust off the worn paper as he went.
A tense minute snailed by until he found that of which he'd been searching. Spoken in an old language, the spell looked almost as old as the book itself, who's tattered remains needed to be charmed by Albus to stop the pages falling apart by the seams. Surprising it was really. This book he had borrowed temporarily from the school library's restricted section shortly before the bombardment. Never had he thought he'd need to do such a thing, but McGonagall's rasping words were still ever present in his mind. He muttered to himself -'Return to your roots'- in a soft voice. It was true that despite being younger than he by far, and having at one stage being a pupil of his own at Hogwarts, Minerva nevertheless was a very knowledgeable person, and he trusted her as much as he trusted Harry, far more than most.
Withdrawing his wand from within his sleeve, he placed the ornate piece of wood in front of him on the stone floor. It resonated power just sitting there doing nothing, though Dumbledore didn't bother to watch the occasional glitter of magic that surged from it, his attention focused on the book. With a last deep breath he begun muttering a long, ancient spell, his hands resting on his knees as his wand started to spark.
'Illiander no vahasne ohnee verinta moronov kieda ne aer,' his voice ranted, the wand beginning to shake on the floor, a brief flash of light appearing then disappearing about the room. 'Arinas moneksi te, yiol von arneft ka…' a small hum began to rise, the old runes patterning the walls beginning to glow like his wand, a bloody shade of red lighting the room. 'Faramier ulendes mo, von aften ki da ha…' the wand shook uncontrollably on the floor, producing a tattered knocking sound of wood on stone as it vibrated, drowning out Dumbledore's voice as he spoke on, the runes on the ceiling gaining intensity in their light. The old wizard raised his eyes from the rotting book, focusing on the wand. And in an instant it rose into the air at eye level, it's surface no longer discernable as a bright white glow surrounded the wooden object.
'From the strength of old I give thanks…' the wand began to spin on it's axis, a bright form glowing in the darkness, 'From the strength of our forefathers I give thanks…' the wand sped up, becoming a blur with the power that pulsated through it, threatening to burn the wood to a stump, 'From the strength of our present I give thanks' electric currents sparked about Dumbledore, spinning around himself as the wand continued to turn in it's unnatural blur, Harry's young face suddenly flashed in his mind… 'And from the strength of our future…' he smiled at the thought, 'I give thanks.'
And in an instant, an almighty sound echoed through the domed cavern, Dumbledore arching himself back screaming in pain as electricity flowed about him in snaking forms, burning his skin, searing his robes. His eyes glowing white hot as his wand, which now resembled nothing but a glowing orb, and with one final lurch of strength, Albus's very spirit shone in a brief moment of light as a massive beam of magical power shot forth to the cavern ceiling…
Harry emerged half dazed from the cave, his eyes adjusting to the light that shone in his eyes, happy to be freed from the dark. But his relief was shattered as an almighty explosion ripped the earth from beneath the remains of the north tower behind him. He snapped himself about instinctively, and cowered in fear as a blinding beam of energy tore through earth and stone alike into the sky, parting the dark clouds that had rolled over Hogwarts' ruins. Hundreds of people who'd dug themselves into the school's remains, students, teachers and full gone witches and wizards alike, raised their heads in horror as the towering beam of magic intermingled with the atmosphere. Lightening from clear sky sparked everywhere, occasionally striking the ground close to survivors. And in a few short moments, the power expanded, bathing the ruins in a deep shadow of energy, until it settled in a protective embrace of those who remained within, it's outskirts stretching to the limits of the forbidden forest, and beyond… It was a shield, just as Dumbledore had told Harry only a few short minutes ago, but he'd never envisioned such power to be displayed. A mingled sense of awe spread across the castle grounds as power continued to feed the shield that pulsed with glowing energy at every moment. Harry stared, unable to believe his eyes. If the battle for what remained of Hogwarts would begin soon, then it would indeed be a ground battle, though not certain what to make of it, he knew inside that nothing speedy was going to be getting through that shield anytime soon.
Deep underground, Dumbledore remained levitating, surges of uncontrolled power being drawn out of him by the incantation he'd spoken. His book thrown askew, his mouth wide in pain and power combined, and his spirit, one with the spell he'd unleashed, threatened to pull his existence out of the very fabric of time and reality, but he persisted. He was unwilling to relinquish his stranglehold on the power that had now begun to control him like a rag-doll. Hogwarts depended on him for protection, and he'd grown so attached to the castle and it's students that he'd long forgotten his ties to the world and had given that spell everything he had. Somehow he knew that this was his destiny.
Amidst the swirling energies that spun about the room with abundant power, a lone robed figure walked towards him. With slanted snake like eyes and white, pallid skin, what was once the shadow of man turned to the dark arts, paced the ancient hall, eying with intensity the scene that took place in front of him. Dumbledore's scarred and burned body floating mid air, surrounded by power the likes of which he'd never before beheld. It was a sight that would make any power hungry mage cry in their desire, but this broken shell of a man no longer cared for such trivial and childish practices as crying, or anything for that matter, except power.
He continued to walk, closer and closer to the wizard, who seemed to be oblivious to his presence, and he pulled back the hood of his robe, revealing the beginning growth of snake scales on a hairless head, that grew further on, down his neck and into his hands. A cruel smile twitched at the sides of the man's mouth as he witnessed Dumbledore's body being gripped by the power he'd so willingly wielded, and he laughed. The cruel, senseless laughing of a crazed man was all it could be described as, and despite the power, Dumbledore's twitching head snapped to the source of the noise, his glowing, white eyes widening. The old man's mouth fell open in shock at the figure standing before him, a Phoenix feather wand pointing in his direction as he floated prone in mid air.
'Well, well, well.' The dark man spoke suddenly, his rasping voice closer to a hiss than anything else, 'So it has come to this has it, I would never have imagined it being this easy… how interesting.' And he laughed again, the insanity of it echoing around the cavern once more, his wand glowing a pale yellow as he shouted a dark incantation, not worthy of mortal men. Time slowed, Albus's expression of horror at his own foolishness ever apparent on his face, the spell snaking towards him. And in that last moment before it hit, Dumbledore, despite his own inability to move, choked out one, clearly understandable word that was almost drowned out by the mad laughter of the dark wizard before him.
'… Voldemort!'
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Well, how was that? I'm trying to build the story as best I can without making it go too fast. This is now officially the longest story I've ever tried to write. Something I found interesting though was one of my last reviews. To that person, if you can't handle cliff hangers... well... keep trying. Personally I like them, keeps a story fresh and the audience on their toes. Or at least that's the way that I see it. Oh yes and also, to my loyal reviewer "jac", thanks for your support, you're doing me a great service writing reviews that are more than three words long. And very supportive too, I don't know whether or not I'd have gotten to this stage if I didn't have your reviews to motivate me. And in answer to your question, I am not 40 years old, I am actually 17 and have just entered my final year of high school. I like being thorough with my writing, so descriptive words are the way to go, and I reckon it's going quite ok for me so far. Anyway, keep yourselves ready for the next chapter, it takes me a while to write them of course due to their length, and the fact I have homework from school coming out of my ears, but I am truly trying to update regularly for you guys. Really I am. Oh and don't forget to check out my picture of Marius in his armour I drew, the link is my personal homepage link in my profile. Happy reading, I don't write these chapters for nothing...
Feeble fingers forced their way through a minute crack of rubble, if with some difficulty, a trickle of blood beginning to flow from cuts and bruises upon it. Harry pulled himself from the ruins of the corridor he was running through mere minutes ago, not quite aware of his surroundings, but thankful in his mind that he was alive at least. It wasn't a great feeling to find yourself buried over your head in stone, gasping for air. A sudden thought sped through his mind and he almost pulled his hair out in worry.
'RON!' he shouted aloud, desperately looking for his friend. He'd lost him in the blast that had caught them off guard. A steady bead of anxious sweat rolled down his face. 'RON!' he shouted again, a few paces away to his right another small heap of rubble stirred, and Ron's familiar face emerged from it, looking thoroughly unclean.
'Urgh!' he choked, coughing up a mixture of dirt and dust as he freed himself from his stone prison, 'That didn't feel very good!'
Despite feeling like a worn wreck, Harry still found it in himself to laugh somewhat at what Ron had said. Trust him to put things down to such little worry as possible. But his general thoughts laid elsewhere. He quickly plunged his hand into his robe pockets and retrieved his wand. Miraculously it was unbroken, in as perfect condition as he'd put it in to begin with.
'Phew!' he breathed a sigh of relief, glad his wand was intact, 'That was a close one.' Ron did the same, checking for his wand, yet retrieved it bearing a grimace. Looking rather disdainfully at the few broken shards of wood in his hands he dropped the remains to the ground below.
'Too close this time!' He spoke with despair, disappointed at losing yet another wand while Harry's escaped unscathed, 'Mum's gonna kill me for sure when I see her again. You'll have to address your letters to my grave in the holidays ok.'
Ron swore loudly at his own misfortune, and the unearthly echo that came from it brought them both to reality, and they took in what was left of their surroundings. A gasp left their mouths at once.
Though the attack had ended some time ago, the damage was done. Hogwarts was still discernable beneath the destruction, but it had certainly been changed. Where Ron and Harry had been running was a floor high above ground level that led towards Gryffindor tower. However, when the blast had hit, the shockwave had evidently destroyed almost the entire corridor plus much of the surrounding area and looking down to his feet, Harry saw to his horror he was mere inches from the edge of a drop that went down for some thirty or so meters to the grounds below. Hastily he stood back, breathing heavily at almost falling.
Ron had noticed as well, and at once he forgot his wand and just thanked his lucky stars he'd survived the explosion at all. Perhaps, Harry had thought then in that instance, the charms and enchantments applied to the castle may have had some effect afterall in saving their lives. But as he looked about himself, he was sure that they hadn't worked as intended, Hogwarts was almost completely in ruins. Few of the many spires that had existed were still standing, those that had survived, teetered on the edge of collapse, still posing a danger to anyone below them. The great north tower that had played host to Harry's Divination lessons was nothing but a crumbling mass of stone, only it's base remaining where it had once stood. The sight proving utterly ominous the longer they both stared at it, a strong message hitting home of how dangerous the world had become, if there was anything left out there to be called a magical world. Last they'd heard, muggles had taken almost every important magical posting in the British Isles, the ministry itself being but one of them. And just by looking, the scene about them only served to justify their domination.
A yell broke the air, Harry and Ron both snapping their heads about to see the commotion. It was Mrs Weasley.
'MY BOYS! OH THANK HEAVENS YOUR BOTH SAFE!' the two friends found themselves being pulled into a bone crushing hug, the over exuberant woman shedding numerous tears on their shoulders even as they struggled to get free. 'Oh I thought I'd lost you two…' she continued, not relinquishing her stranglehold on them both, as if by some cruel misfortune they were still in danger. Behind her, trudging haphazardly amongst the debris, Arthur followed. His clothes were almost as battered and torn as Harry's, but he looked almost energetic as he hurried over towards them.
'You oughta be ashamed of yourselves,' Arthur badgered the two rather frustratingly, 'not being about where we could find you both, the nerve you two have.' Though it was clear by the expression on his face that he was just as glad as Molly was that they were alive. Though none of them realised, many of their fellow students hadn't been so lucky.
Walking slowly through the ruined remains of the castle, Arthur told them both how he and his wife were almost killed in a similar explosion, indicating to a long cut on the side of his face. Molly explained shortly afterwards that she'd been looking for them and almost gave up any hope of finding them alive were it not for her husband's valiant efforts at keeping her sane. It would really have been an interesting tale to listen to were they not in a war zone. Their minds all drifting back to the grisly sight before them. Arthur motioning at one stage to a lone arm that protruded out, unmoving from beneath a heavy block of granite, a small, splattered streak of blood being the only evidence of the speed at which the person beneath it had died, most probably crushed to death in an instant. A horrible way to die, but at least it had been quick, though there was no way to determine who that arm belonged to, it's apparent anonymousness providing Harry with very shallow comfort indeed.
As they walked on, occasionally tripping on debris, they all saw similar sights to that of before. A few survivors with blackened faces were sitting huddled coldly around a magically conjured fire, extending their hands dangerously close to the flames as though they didn't really sense the heat from them at all. Others had started scavenging what they could from the remains of their common rooms, hoping that they might find some of their belongings, not willing to let the waste consume them. It was pitiful to watch, yet saddening at the same time. At one moment Ron was confronted by a tattered Ravencalw student who quickly started kneeling at his feet waving a makeshift white flag.
'I surrender! I surrender! Please don't kill me… I …I swear I'll do anything. ANYTHING!' she pleaded with the red headed boy through a myriad of tears, her bloodied hands tugging insanely at his sleeves. Ron cast a fearful gaze to his parents, who looked thoroughly horror-struck at the display the young student was putting on. Arthur shook his head in dismay.
'She's gone mad.' He stated as a matter of factly, eyeing her with a touch of sympathy. Molly knelt down and was casting some medical spells on her from what little she knew of the subject. Madam Pomfrey was the one they really needed. And in time as they continued on, they left her with a group of shell shocked kids who had gathered in the remnants of Hogwarts' courtyard and were quite openly not insane in any way. Yet the carnage was wide spread. There were others who were just as mad, often shaking and muttering incoherently to themselves, not making a word of sense whatsoever. While others still were horribly burned or missing limbs, their consciousness not really centered on reality as we knew it. It was horrible for sure, that went without saying. A single look to the horizon was all that was necessary. The day was slowly moving into a subtle dusk, but the deep oranges and red's of the setting sun were marred by tall spires of black smoke that rose from the ruins of the castle. A tower here, and protruding semblance of a wall there, only the most prominent features of Hogwarts' remained. And after it all a lone question worked it's way into Harry's mind… 'Why?'
Frustrated groans echoed through the Glyph caves as Dumbledore stood alert, waiting. Three sweat covered wizards came shuffling back. They had the look of coal miners, covered in black ash from head to toe, only the irises of their eyes visible in the failing light of the cave. One of them spoke.
'Well professor, we've tried every curse we can think of, nothing is budging that rock.'
The other two wizards nodded quickly in agreement as Dumbledore eyed them appraisingly. He didn't seem even the slightest bit perturbed by this, however concerned the other wizards seemed.
'Are you sure there's no other way out of this cave Professor?' the smaller of the three men asked, his head barely reaching the headmaster's chin, 'I think it's clear no one's getting out that way, the bombardment must have blocked up the entrance tight.'
Dumbledore stood for a moment stroking his white beard, thinking. The wizards looked eagerly to him for an answer, leaning slightly forwards as he considered them.
'That is our exit, there are no ways into the caves but the entrance we took to come here, we will leave as we came.'
The three looked to him feeling rather perplexed, still not confident there was any way out short of Apparating, and there was no chance of doing that as Hogwarts' magic still stretched enough to prevent them. Dumbledore took their confused looks in his stride and motioned his way passed them into the darkness of the caves, withdrawing his wand. In a tired old voice he sighed.
'If you wish a job done properly you must do it yourself…'
Harry walked the grounds alone, having grown tired of moving between different casualties with Ron. He couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt at it all however. None of it was his fault, sure, he understood that. But it was strange. He remembered that all too familiar voice that even now echoed in his mind. "I am the alpha and the omega, the beginning… and the end!" He remembered hearing that same, cold voice before. His dreams before he came to Hogwarts for sixth year, they had the same voice. But in that he felt absolutely stupid.
"There's no connection!" he kept repeating vainly to himself, but the thought lingered and he couldn't remove it from his mind. "What if there was? What if I'm somehow intricately related to all this? Wouldn't be the first time." He looked out at the castle's ruined facade and wondered. If he were involved, this could be entirely his fault! Oh what a thought that was. But he knew that kind of thinking wasn't logical, and it didn't help him one bit either. But Hogwarts… He shuddered inwardly. "Don't think about it!" He'd always had this uncanny ability to be so angst about himself, always taking full responsibility for things, keeping the blame solely for himself. Not surprising that almost everything revolved around him. How he hated being so famous.
"BANG!", his thoughts snapped as a huge blast sounded in his ears up ahead of him. He instinctively ducked with his hands over his head, watching as the blast threw up tons of earth and stone in a horrendous shower of debris. But not another sound whispered after that. Looking intensely towards the site, from his view he could see a giant hole some thirteen meters across blasted into the earth. Keeping himself hidden behind a rock he watched. To his joy, Dumbledore emerged from the pit, wand still in hand. And at once all Harry's fears disappeared. Only Dumbledore could help in a time like this, so he hurriedly rushed over to him, a sudden look of relief spreading over the old man's face the moment he was seen…
Far from the battered and broken spires of Hogwarts, beyond the soft, rolling green hills of it's own grounds. Further even, than the great forbidden forest…. a lone, dark figure walked. Robed in pitch black that not even the darkness of night could rival. He walked on, not faltering a step, his metal greave boots creating a harsh clank like sound as he went. The arms of the robe revealing two spiked, metal gauntlets over each hand that flexed and strained with each tensing. And beneath his hood, a scarred and angered face, the cold sting of hatred for all life clinging to his near completely black eyes.
Marius.
Clearing the forest, he spied before him the remains of a stone built gate, some eight meters high if measured from the ground. And beyond that, the charred, burning remains of what was once the largest all wizard town in Britain… Hogsmeade. Cold, seeping hate filled him, the same hate he felt when Dumbledore had mortified him on the school grounds, the very same hate that consumed him when he remembered the culprits behind this peaceful town's destruction; Muggles! Casting his eyes across the remains of the town, he felt aware of the numerous eyes that were secretly watching him. You couldn't see them, but he knew the muggles were there. Amongst the ruins, probably entrenched like moles where you couldn't easily get to them. He knew. He'd faced muggles in combat before, during his Auror years. No one knew much of it of course, it was a simple thing he kept to himself, but he relished the thoughts he held of it. But it was all washed beneath his hate for them, his own loathing of their decrepit species. Yes, that's what they were. They weren't human at all, just another species of animal. Stubborn and weak…
Knowing what must be done, he closed his eyes momentarily, and from beneath his very skin, cruelly shaped metal armor grew, steadily enshrouding his entire face. With long serrated blades, slanted eyes and a near screaming mouth, his helmet grew to his character, which could only be described as an agent of pure evil.
(AN: I've drawn what Marius in his armor looks like. Go to my personal website located in my profile to see him.)
It was a ritual object, embedded within his face at a young age. And he felt the stabbing ecstasy of pride that filled him as he wore it. His family would be proud, the old ways that had been handed down to him through generations sung to him in a sadistic verse. They were still strong, much blood was to be spilt this day, his armor demanded it, and it would be appeased.
Arching himself back, he let out an almighty shriek of sound, it's pitch unbearable on the ears as he continued that long, dragging note, as if to alert all to his presence, which was what he wanted. And then he silenced. Sound disappeared, but for a moment when
a soft rumble sounded from the forest behind him… louder, and louder it grew, the very ground beginning to shake as he stood there, his own heartless expression unseen beneath the multiple plates of black metal that adorned his face. And when the trees parted, his retinue appeared… Heliopaths. Over two thousand burned through the trees and spilled through the gates into Hogsmeade, a lust for blood wet on their lips as they surged on, Marius's cold laughter sounding out across the ashes.
A very slow day snailed by since the bombardment, as not everyone was back to their cheerful selves. Understandable of course, many still heard whistling noises in their ears when they thought of the day's events. The shelling itself had lasted only a short time, but it left an irreparable legacy in it's wake. One of fear. Not a single muggle had been seen prior to the bombardment, yet such was the precise nature of the strike, rumors were spreading of the unseen eyes that were watching them constantly. Relaying movements, directing attacks… everything. And no one felt safe because of it, that is what it meant to be a slave, constantly living in fear.
Segregating himself as best he could from the crowd, Harry shied from the circulating rumor mill that had enveloped those left alive. He didn't feel like becoming part of the gossip. Heaven only knew that he didn't wish to be accountable for a panic through misinformation as such a thing had often occurred, but nevertheless, his thoughts embraced the idea from time to time and he felt guilty because of it. Were there really muggles nearby, perhaps amidst the survivors themselves? Are we still in danger? Hours went on, but the thoughts failed to leave him. Only Dumbledore's esteeming presence helped to ease his mind despite him looking just as tired and wearied as he.
It had proved a surprise when Albus took him aside that afternoon as dusk began to approach, a steady glimmer of magenta streaking the sky in large bands, as though a stark reflection of the blood spilt that day. With his robes still as immaculate as ever, the aging headmaster walked beyond the ruined walls of the castle with Harry at his side, an air of concern, or perhaps doubt about him as he talked of his worries, occasionally staring at giant sections of ruined walls or towers that had bore the full brunt of the attack. More often than not, they had been marred by enormous holes from missiles or shells, that in some cases, measured eight meters in diameter.
Conversation was varied, but the core subject remained the same. Was Hogwarts still in danger? And to this, Albus regrettably nodded his head, clearly remembering what little warning his students had before the last attack. He shuddered bitterly at the thought. Though it hadn't escaped Harry's wonder at why Dumbledore chose him in particular to talk to, until he abruptly stopped and found himself staring at the entrance of an ancient, dark, cave.
'Welcome Harry,' the old wizard began in his fatherly tones, 'to the Glyph caves…' and with a gesture, Harry walked into the gloom, the darkness shrouding him from the moment of entry. At first he felt rather stupid for entering the cave, until it was that Dumbledore illuminated the cave suddenly with a flame levitating over his left hand. The mage strode past his questioning gaze, and led the boy from there on in. His journey took him through a myriad of tunnels and passageways that had seemed by all probability, to have been carved from years of running water. Never did they walk in a straight line for long, as Harry found himself rounding so many corners that he quickly lost his sense of direction and knew that he'd never be able to find his way out if his life depended on it. He secretly prayed it wouldn't come to that. Yet despite this fact, and the ever apparent darkness that always appeared to creep in upon them, Dumbledore walked on, seeming to know precisely where he was going.
A gentle breeze passed through the caves and into the weaving of Harry's robes, which was shocking as it chilled him to the bone. Dumbledore chuckled heartily as he watched the boy vainly try to wrap his clothes tighter about himself in an attempt to halt the air.
'Never you mind the wind Harry. It chills the passageways often these days, watching the comings and goings of all who pass through here.' Harry looked curiously to the wizard who stared back in his usual fatherly fashion. What did he mean? 'The wind will do us no harm, it exists solely for the purposes of the people who reside within the earth.'
Harry stopped mid stride and stared horror struck about his surroundings.
'People?!' he choked between gasps, 'There are people living down here, in this?' he gestured to the rotten nature of the caves, seemingly torn about whether or not anyone could truly call a place like this home. Dumbledore fixed the teen with a sturdy eye, but leveled a frown at the same time as he continued to walk.
'Yes Harry, people do live within these caves, or at least… they were people, once…' Harry watched the old man trail off, apparently lost in his own thoughts, stroking his beard and muttering incoherently to himself. It seemed for a brief moment that he'd forgotten Harry even being with him as he turned things over in his head. But finally his gaze rested on the boy again, now with a concerned look about it, as though unsure it was worth while telling him about it. He cleared his throat loudly.
'Before Hogwarts was built, wizards who originally settled this area used the caves as shelter from the magical creatures above ground, centaurs, werewolves etc… No doubt we were primitive, and magic was more an enigma, a trait past down through generations from father to son, from mother to daughter. It was totally unlike what we utilize each day ourselves, with our wands and cauldrons. Few people apart from myself know this, but in those troubled times magic was feared above all else, and those who wielded any form of power were regarded in the highest esteem. But… not wanting to deviate from the point, in order to protect ourselves and to nurture and learn of our abilities, we were driven underground. Here to be precise. It was home for them, and as generations wore on, cities grew beneath the soil and the wizard civilization as we know it was created. With safety, we learned to control our magic and develop our skills, so in speaking this is literally the place where magic was born in the British isles…'
Harry looked about the dull interior of the caves with a renewed sense of awe, surprised that this dank place of all would be the beginning of wizards and witches as he knew it. Dumbledore continued on, grasping Harry's attention effortlessly.
'At any rate, two things we are certain of. Firstly, these people learned to harness the magic within themselves and used it to their benefit. The ancient stone city of Narcissus is proof enough of that, as it alone is a work of incomprehensible art. And secondly, we know that there were no limits on the level of power these people wielded. What may have seemed trivial magic to the likes of them would not be achievable of Merlin himself, it was therefore, inevitable that their magic seeped into this very rock…' he tapped the cave walls deftly with his wand, and a brief green light shimmered through it, 'If you take this into account it is quite understandable that Hogwarts was built over these caves for that very reason. Magic as powerful as what resides here is strong enough to prevent certain types of magical travel within the school grounds. Apparating is but one example, and that alone makes Hogwarts a safe place from intruders… most of the time. You must understand Harry that no one foresaw muggles raising to challenge the wizard world in such a fashion, Hogwarts was not designed to repel a non magical assault.'
Harry nodded his head absent mindedly, still unable to fully believe what he'd heard. Looking across the dark interior of the cave, he tried to visualize masses of teeming people inhabiting them. But it was too difficult to imagine. How could anyone live in such a filthy place? The thought didn't have time enough to resonate before Dumbledore led him to a room as large as the great hall used to be, with a dozen different doorways dispersing themselves to other sections of the cave, whereabouts they may lead was anyone's guess, while it's spherical ceiling was patterned with an impressive display of ancient runes, none of which he recognized. Dumbledore walked across a stone dais to the center of the room, leaving Harry rooted to the spot. Casting a wearied gaze across the floor and walls, he turned to Harry as the boy stood slack jawed watching him, still curious. Albus motioned a old hand about himself, gesturing to the entire cavern within which they stood.
'There was once a time Harry, when the royal blood of old once inhabited this very chamber. Hogwarts was non existent then, but beneath it's soil a civilization bloomed, fed constantly with the ever present need to learn of the magical gifts they were entrusted with. These were the descendants of our great ancestors, the ones who first set foot within the Glyph caves, and their genes flowed with the strength afforded to them by their forbearers. Some years past, and a city was built here to emulate the rumored once great metropolis of Narcissus. Some four hundred thousand lived here once, but alas, no longer. Their new city, Elendaire as it was named, was destroyed by Heliopaths over two thousand years ago. This cavern…'
Dumbledore flayed his arms wide as if to encompass the space,
'was the court of the royal line. And now this is all that remains of this once proud society. Elendaire was lost in a sea of flame before Hogwarts was ever conceived, it's legacy washed away like tears in a storm, never to be realized. Sad it is that such an outcome was produced, what I would give to see the great stone court of old be revitalized again.'
Harry stared again about the room. It was very large, and he would've needed a few minutes to go over it thoroughly, but a sole thought struck him at that moment, and before he knew it he'd asked the question.
'Professor? You said that Narcissus was a rumor… but you sound as though you've seen it.' Dumbledore eyed him appraisingly for a moment, his mouth slowly turning into a smile.
'You always were bright Harry, Narcissus is no more a myth than Hogwarts is. As I have indeed seen it before with my eyes… Just imagine Harry. Stone spires taller than Hogwarts three times over, all underground, light from some unknown source sending a shine off their surfaces. Their forms so proudly preserved that it feels as though it should still teem with people that were long since dead… Never in my lifetime had I seen such beauty, but it gave me remorse at that same moment to witness those beautiful forms. You see, no one knows precisely why Narcissus faded into the rifts of time. For a few shining years it stood like a beacon against the odds. It was a safe place, safer than Hogwarts could ever be… and then it vanished, like a gentle breeze. Never to be spoken of again. It is thought by some that a great catastrophe befell it's denizens, forcing their kin to abandon the city, I do not know. However, what is certain is that Narcissus is not abandoned as some scholars may wish to see it…' Dumbledore leveled a finger towards him, 'I know, as I have seen, those that were once people still walk it's silver paved streets, their iridescent forms going about their business as if they were still alive. Yet they are not. They are neither living, nor dead, but trapped like ghosts… I dare not enter that place again, out of fear that I may become as they are…'
Harry swallowed hard, trying not to think of ghostly spirits behind him, perhaps listening to his conversation with the headmaster, and he could not resist to look quickly about himself, as if to be reassured that there truly was no one else but they. Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly, leveling his attention back on him.
'Harry, I want you to promise me now… that you will never go looking for Narcissus for as long as you live. Danger unlike anything you could possibly know resides there. That I do not know what the people of the earth desire, should be sufficient reason. And to lose you… would be unbearable.'
Harry nodded obediently as Dumbledore turned himself about and sat down upon the dusty dais of which he stood, attracting Harry's curious stare. Harry opened his mouth to speak but was silenced as quick by Albus's hand, he kept his mouth shut. Albus withdrew a dusty old book from his robe pocket.
'Here Harry, I fear I must leave you. Hogwarts lies prone to danger. With the Heliopath army at only half strength due to Marius's… foolishness, we are more vulnerable now to a frontal assault than we were previously. For now I must take steps to ensure that should the attack not come to pass soon, we are not once more bombarded from the air. Go no, you will find I have already lighted the way for you…'
Dumbledore waved his hand as Harry spun about the spot, only to witness bright blue lines etching themselves into the dirt as a makeshift pathway. Harry turned to Dumbledore again, who'd begun flicking through the pages of his book. He couldn't help but feel silent.
'I want you to inform Professor McGonagall that I have begun what I set out to do. She will understand fully when you tell her.' Harry nodded.
'Yes sir, I'll see to it.' And in a swift, yet reluctant motion, Harry followed the path in a run to the surface, not staying another moment to eye the old man further.
With Harry out of sight, Dumbledore sat in his own tired reverie, his legs crossed on the floor as he supported his book with a gangly hand. He sighed loudly, a long rasping breath issuing from his mouth. He really should be taking it easy. Events of late had pushed him further than he'd been willing to go. With an additional sigh he flicked another page in the book, motioning down the paper with his fingers. Countless spells dotted the page, some with harmless outcomes, others with more horrible looking consequences. Dark magic… evil incantations. A blood drawn picture of a man's skeleton breaking bone by bone under the curse bearer's gaze said enough to him that he was on the wrong page, and he turned it once more, blowing dust off the worn paper as he went.
A tense minute snailed by until he found that of which he'd been searching. Spoken in an old language, the spell looked almost as old as the book itself, who's tattered remains needed to be charmed by Albus to stop the pages falling apart by the seams. Surprising it was really. This book he had borrowed temporarily from the school library's restricted section shortly before the bombardment. Never had he thought he'd need to do such a thing, but McGonagall's rasping words were still ever present in his mind. He muttered to himself -'Return to your roots'- in a soft voice. It was true that despite being younger than he by far, and having at one stage being a pupil of his own at Hogwarts, Minerva nevertheless was a very knowledgeable person, and he trusted her as much as he trusted Harry, far more than most.
Withdrawing his wand from within his sleeve, he placed the ornate piece of wood in front of him on the stone floor. It resonated power just sitting there doing nothing, though Dumbledore didn't bother to watch the occasional glitter of magic that surged from it, his attention focused on the book. With a last deep breath he begun muttering a long, ancient spell, his hands resting on his knees as his wand started to spark.
'Illiander no vahasne ohnee verinta moronov kieda ne aer,' his voice ranted, the wand beginning to shake on the floor, a brief flash of light appearing then disappearing about the room. 'Arinas moneksi te, yiol von arneft ka…' a small hum began to rise, the old runes patterning the walls beginning to glow like his wand, a bloody shade of red lighting the room. 'Faramier ulendes mo, von aften ki da ha…' the wand shook uncontrollably on the floor, producing a tattered knocking sound of wood on stone as it vibrated, drowning out Dumbledore's voice as he spoke on, the runes on the ceiling gaining intensity in their light. The old wizard raised his eyes from the rotting book, focusing on the wand. And in an instant it rose into the air at eye level, it's surface no longer discernable as a bright white glow surrounded the wooden object.
'From the strength of old I give thanks…' the wand began to spin on it's axis, a bright form glowing in the darkness, 'From the strength of our forefathers I give thanks…' the wand sped up, becoming a blur with the power that pulsated through it, threatening to burn the wood to a stump, 'From the strength of our present I give thanks' electric currents sparked about Dumbledore, spinning around himself as the wand continued to turn in it's unnatural blur, Harry's young face suddenly flashed in his mind… 'And from the strength of our future…' he smiled at the thought, 'I give thanks.'
And in an instant, an almighty sound echoed through the domed cavern, Dumbledore arching himself back screaming in pain as electricity flowed about him in snaking forms, burning his skin, searing his robes. His eyes glowing white hot as his wand, which now resembled nothing but a glowing orb, and with one final lurch of strength, Albus's very spirit shone in a brief moment of light as a massive beam of magical power shot forth to the cavern ceiling…
Harry emerged half dazed from the cave, his eyes adjusting to the light that shone in his eyes, happy to be freed from the dark. But his relief was shattered as an almighty explosion ripped the earth from beneath the remains of the north tower behind him. He snapped himself about instinctively, and cowered in fear as a blinding beam of energy tore through earth and stone alike into the sky, parting the dark clouds that had rolled over Hogwarts' ruins. Hundreds of people who'd dug themselves into the school's remains, students, teachers and full gone witches and wizards alike, raised their heads in horror as the towering beam of magic intermingled with the atmosphere. Lightening from clear sky sparked everywhere, occasionally striking the ground close to survivors. And in a few short moments, the power expanded, bathing the ruins in a deep shadow of energy, until it settled in a protective embrace of those who remained within, it's outskirts stretching to the limits of the forbidden forest, and beyond… It was a shield, just as Dumbledore had told Harry only a few short minutes ago, but he'd never envisioned such power to be displayed. A mingled sense of awe spread across the castle grounds as power continued to feed the shield that pulsed with glowing energy at every moment. Harry stared, unable to believe his eyes. If the battle for what remained of Hogwarts would begin soon, then it would indeed be a ground battle, though not certain what to make of it, he knew inside that nothing speedy was going to be getting through that shield anytime soon.
Deep underground, Dumbledore remained levitating, surges of uncontrolled power being drawn out of him by the incantation he'd spoken. His book thrown askew, his mouth wide in pain and power combined, and his spirit, one with the spell he'd unleashed, threatened to pull his existence out of the very fabric of time and reality, but he persisted. He was unwilling to relinquish his stranglehold on the power that had now begun to control him like a rag-doll. Hogwarts depended on him for protection, and he'd grown so attached to the castle and it's students that he'd long forgotten his ties to the world and had given that spell everything he had. Somehow he knew that this was his destiny.
Amidst the swirling energies that spun about the room with abundant power, a lone robed figure walked towards him. With slanted snake like eyes and white, pallid skin, what was once the shadow of man turned to the dark arts, paced the ancient hall, eying with intensity the scene that took place in front of him. Dumbledore's scarred and burned body floating mid air, surrounded by power the likes of which he'd never before beheld. It was a sight that would make any power hungry mage cry in their desire, but this broken shell of a man no longer cared for such trivial and childish practices as crying, or anything for that matter, except power.
He continued to walk, closer and closer to the wizard, who seemed to be oblivious to his presence, and he pulled back the hood of his robe, revealing the beginning growth of snake scales on a hairless head, that grew further on, down his neck and into his hands. A cruel smile twitched at the sides of the man's mouth as he witnessed Dumbledore's body being gripped by the power he'd so willingly wielded, and he laughed. The cruel, senseless laughing of a crazed man was all it could be described as, and despite the power, Dumbledore's twitching head snapped to the source of the noise, his glowing, white eyes widening. The old man's mouth fell open in shock at the figure standing before him, a Phoenix feather wand pointing in his direction as he floated prone in mid air.
'Well, well, well.' The dark man spoke suddenly, his rasping voice closer to a hiss than anything else, 'So it has come to this has it, I would never have imagined it being this easy… how interesting.' And he laughed again, the insanity of it echoing around the cavern once more, his wand glowing a pale yellow as he shouted a dark incantation, not worthy of mortal men. Time slowed, Albus's expression of horror at his own foolishness ever apparent on his face, the spell snaking towards him. And in that last moment before it hit, Dumbledore, despite his own inability to move, choked out one, clearly understandable word that was almost drowned out by the mad laughter of the dark wizard before him.
'… Voldemort!'
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Well, how was that? I'm trying to build the story as best I can without making it go too fast. This is now officially the longest story I've ever tried to write. Something I found interesting though was one of my last reviews. To that person, if you can't handle cliff hangers... well... keep trying. Personally I like them, keeps a story fresh and the audience on their toes. Or at least that's the way that I see it. Oh yes and also, to my loyal reviewer "jac", thanks for your support, you're doing me a great service writing reviews that are more than three words long. And very supportive too, I don't know whether or not I'd have gotten to this stage if I didn't have your reviews to motivate me. And in answer to your question, I am not 40 years old, I am actually 17 and have just entered my final year of high school. I like being thorough with my writing, so descriptive words are the way to go, and I reckon it's going quite ok for me so far. Anyway, keep yourselves ready for the next chapter, it takes me a while to write them of course due to their length, and the fact I have homework from school coming out of my ears, but I am truly trying to update regularly for you guys. Really I am. Oh and don't forget to check out my picture of Marius in his armour I drew, the link is my personal homepage link in my profile. Happy reading, I don't write these chapters for nothing...