Chapter Thirty Three: The Separation (June 20th)
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A splash of cold water on his face jolted him awake, as he sputtered and whined in protest, his eyes adjusted to the dark room. The only light source was a lone flickering candle somewhere behind him. He tried to look left and right but found his neck was paralysed, further efforts on his arms and legs made clear that the only things that could move on command were his mouth and tongue. There was always his failsafe though, the rat behind the man. With practised ease he warped his mind into the nature of a rodent but when he opened his eyes to make his escape, he found himself still very much human and very much paralysed.
His eyes would've widened if they were able but he imagined they still conveyed the fear and desperation that gripped him so tightly. 'My lord will save me,' he tried to reassure himself, not entirely believing it, 'my lord will come.'
It was at that very moment the darkness gave way as a door swung open directly in front of him, bathing the room in light. Wormtail closed his eyes tightly and waited for the room to darken once more. The darkness returned and when he opened his eyes he saw a sight that gave him a jolt of fear.
A big man in dark blue robes walked in with a mean look on his face. "Mr Pettigrew," the deep voice intoned, "how unfortunate it is for you that we are meeting here."
Before the big man could say anything though, an invisible force smacked him in the side which careened him into the cell wall. The man did not get up and Pettigrew looked to the door with hope shining in his eyes.
"My lord!" he cried in glee seeing the pale visage of Lord Voldemort standing tall a step into the room.
"Quiet rat!" the dark lord hissed. His anger was to be expected, afterall what use was a spy that got themselves caught? "What did you tell them?"
"N-nothing my lord they have not questioned me… you arrived before they could."
"You mean to tell me," the Dark Lord whispered as he flanked Pettigrew's chair, "that you have been here for weeks and they haven't once come to question you? I find that notion… unlikely."
'Weeks?' he thought to himself in confusion, it certainly hadn't felt like weeks. "Milord please–"
"Silence," Voldemort interjected forcefully and laid a hand on Pettigrew's immobilised shoulder. "Before I free you I must know if you are friend or foe."
Desperately, Wormtail did the only thing he could. "Milord, look into my mind!" he pleaded, "look and you will see!"
The hand squeezed hard, bringing a whimper to the fat man's mouth. "And risk a trap… desperate and deceitful, perhaps you are my foe."
Tears rolled down his eyes as his mind raced for a way to prove himself. "Question me! Ask me anything and I will prove that I am who I say I am!"
With suspicion written on the Dark Lord's face, a thorough interrogation of his cowering follower ensued. The Dark Lord smiled when Pettigrew divulged the location of four safe houses currently in use, hissed quietly when the names of ministry informants tumbled from his lips and smiled when he finished frantically flowing information and just sat silently awaiting judgement.
"Well done," the Dark Lord said condescendingly, "I know you are Wormtail and now… your reward."
'Thank Mer–' Pettigrew thought before the Dark Lord whipped his wand up and stunned the heavy man, the enchantments on the chair made him remain still in his unconscious state.
The Dark Lord regarded the stunned man with an unreadable expression before kicking him in the shin to verify he was out. After a second of no visible reaction, the Dark Lord's face scrunched up and stretched from an egg shape to a heart shape, he shrunk several inches and his bald head grew out into a bright pink mess. Where the Dark Lord stood before, Nymphadora Tonks now took his place.
June 17th
6:22pm
Black Chateau, Isle of Man
Harry
'He didn't even hesitate,' Harry thought scornfully, 'just as I expected.'
The mirror faded away as Kingsley was revived and Tonks helped him out. Using the mirror had allowed himself, Daphne and Damien to view the interrogation live and Harry was quite happy with the result. The ruse was simple, stage a rescue and get him to talk by 'Voldemort' being suspicious. The idea was his, he knew full well how terrified Peter was of Voldemort and using that fear had proven very effective.
The door to the main hall opened with Tonks and Kingsley walking in. Kingsley took a seat at the main table and a water appeared for him which he took eagerly. Tonks joined the rest of them at the end of the table with a frown.
"Well done," Damien complimented first, a transcript of the interrogation sat in front of him, "none of this information is particularly surprising but it confirms several assumptions."
"So many ministry officials… how has this gone unnoticed?" Tonks asked aloud but it was clear to everyone she wasn't talking to anyone. She looked up and asked again. "How is the ministry still standing?"
"Because he wants it to," Harry answered. He held out his hand and Damien gave him the manuscript and did a quick scan of it. "Six out of seven department heads, including Thicknesse. He wants a seamless transition from Scrimengour to his chosen puppet and with these officials under his control that's exactly what he'll get."
"At least we know now who not to trust," Kingsley supplied from the end of the table. "It'll make filling our ranks all the more simpler."
"True," Daphne agreed, now reading the transcript herself, "but he might not have known all the informants, we should still be cautious." Nods and murmurs of agreement followed, none of them fond of the idea of a spy anymore than the other. Daphne made a sound of realisation and continued, "he also made no mention of the attack in two weeks."
Harry hadn't noticed that, despite it weighing on his mind heavily. 'Could it have been called off? It might've been too arrogant to expect Draco would fear us more than Voldemort or too delusional to expect him to cooperate even for his own sake.'
"Severus has told the order on several occasions that the Dark Lord prefers to micromanage his followers, if Pettigrew has nothing to do with the raid there is every possibility he doesn't even know it's being planned," Kingsley informed them. Another assumption that they would have to hope was true, if the attack was rescheduled they could be in some serious trouble.
"We continue as planned," Harry assured them, seeing some doubt in the eyes of his friends, "have Remus and Sirius–"
As if they were house elves, bound to head the call of their names, Remus and Sirius entered the room with desperate expressions.
"Do we have him?" Sirius asked, his voice coated in barely concealed rage. There was no doubt as to who he was speaking about but he clarified anyway, "do we finally have that stinking fucking–"
"Where is he, Harry?" Remus, in contrast, was deathly quiet. The malice was present though and was much more menacing than Sirius' explosive anger.
Harry stared at the two men standing tense at the door to the entrance hall, contemplating how to handle the situation. 'Who am I to deny the vengeance of my family?As long as he lives he's still useful to me.' A quick sideways glance to Daphne who shrugged cemented his decision.
"In the cellar," he answered. Immediately the two men turned and made to exit. "Wait," Harry stopped them, he'd never seen either of them give him a look of anger as much as they did then, "I need him alive."
Although reluctant, the two gave him grim nods and left swiftly, their intent clear. Not one person in the room could blame them, neither would they judge them for they all knew if they suffered what the remaining marauders had, they'd do the same.
June 18th
9:22pm
Hogwarts, Scotland
Harry
"Remember the intent is just as important when drawing the runes as speaking the words," Salazar reminded him.
Sitting in the dusty, cold and damp office had been an avid reminder as to why he chose to use the room of requirement over the chamber of secrets. Over the days he'd spent learning the ritual he'd come to see the extensive knowledge stored in the portrait across from him. Anything from soul magic to historical events, Salazar had a keen understanding of it and the ability to impart that knowledge skillfully. The teacher behind the dark wizard shone through and Harry wondered whether the portrait was made before he lost his mind to the arts.
"I know," Harry replied, running his finger down the parchment of his own notes for the ritual. "Herpo writes that when the curse strikes I need to enter my core… how exactly can I accomplish this without meditation?"
Salazar sighed and his snake hissed alongside him, "what is the final incantation?"
Harry flicked his eyes to the bottom of his page and read, "reveal the master."
"You are the master of the ritual," Salazar began in an explanatory tone, "to reveal yourself, completely, as a wizard is to reveal your core. That is what that incantation will do."
"So… I'll be forcefully pulled into my core?"
"It seems that way, yes." Salazar leaned back in the comfy looking armchair and spoke as if he was remembering old times, "the first time experiencing your core can be rough–"
"I've been inside before," Harry cut in, "I've seen what needs to be removed."
"Then your odds are looking slightly better… when will you do it?"
Harry looked back down to the worn out parchment and considered it himself. 'Is there reason to delay? Everything is in place, the attack is planned for and everyone is focused on the future not just keeping me alive. The more time I wait the more likely something will go wrong.'
He returned his gaze to the portrait who met it with equal intensity. "Tomorrow," is all he said and Salazar's reply was merely a grim nod.
June 20th
7:22am
Hogwarts, Scotland
Harry
The rock scraped against the floor, coated with paint and leaving a symbol in its wake. Harry moved the rock from his view and looked down, satisfied with his runic anchors. The entire work was a sight to see, one he had never thought he would be the maker of. Runes was usually Hermione or Remus' forte but today was a day of drastic measures.
He stepped back and did his final checks, the outer circle was large, at least five metres in diameter, with a smaller ring inside it with less than a metre between them. The runes themselves were in the gap, three ancient symbols pertaining to three stages of the ritual, one for chanting, one for the murder and the final for the separation.
'As evil ancient rituals go,' he considered, 'this isn't a complete failure so far.'
"Getting cold feet?"
Harry turned around and found Daphne entering the chamber with a stunned and bound Pettigrew behind her. Her face was set in stone and for a second it reminded him of when they first decided to kill Umbridge, his resolve hadn't lessened then and wasn't going to now.
"No," he replied simply, "put him in the middle."
Daphne did so and Harry got to see the handiwork of his quasi-uncles for the first time. Pettigrew's right eye and lips were swollen shut, large cuts and bruises all over his face indicated that the men had decided on a muggle approach when exacting their revenge. Harry couldn't care less, if he wasn't about to get his own revenge he'd have joined in.
She paused and sighed, Harry guessed the gravity of the situation was just now taking its effect on her. "I'm going to get Salazar, will you get the checklist ready for me?"
He nodded and watched her walk down the stairs to the office. A small table off to the side of the ritual site held a single piece of parchment outlining the steps which he summoned to himself with his wand. He'd gone over it nearly a hundred times, but an outside perspective can be quite revealing.
Daphne returned with Salazar's portrait in tow. The moment he was floating in a place that could see the preparations he got to work making sure everything was right. Daphne too, after collecting the parchment from his possession, circled the sketching, meticulously checking his measurements and markings.
Harry took the moment to give his wand a final goodbye. The search for a magical item that contained enough power to house a soul, as well as mean an awful lot to him, was a difficult one. In the end there was only one choice, fortunately he'd received a replacement wand quite recently.
'You've served me well these six years, serve me one last time,' he charged. A feeling akin to guilt rose within him as he condemned the very thing that made him special, to disuse. He dared not use a wand that housed a piece of Voldemort in a fight against Voldemort, the consequences of something going awry could spell the end of wizard kind.
His grief was interrupted by Daphne stepping in front of him. "Everything is in order," she told him, a hint of hesitancy in her tone.
"You're in business my heir," Salazar corroborated before asking, "if I may trouble you with something first?" Harry's look of 'continue' spurred the old portrait on, "I do not wish to witness the ritual, I remember enough death from my life, I needn't add to it."
Harry turned his head and caught Daphne's eye, she understood. Daphne flicked her wand and Salazar floated backwards towards the stairs and then down them and if the muffled "thank you" was anything to go by, back to his perch on the fireplace in his study.
"You know," Daphne started in a tone that told him he was about to be lightly scolded, "when I asked you last year 'whose soul are you willing to sacrifice' I didn't mean literally."
"That's your mistake then, we Gryffindors take everything at face value," Harry joked back, eliciting a smile from her.
"You're stalling," she accused him, "are you afraid?"
"If this goes wrong. I could do more damage than I'm trying to avoid, some of the things accomplished with soul magic…" The passages about the house elf subjugation and the priest who tried to become immortal and was pulled into some fiery realm were all too present in his mind. "I'm not just scared, I'm terrified."
"Me too," she replied. The answer surprised him, and he turned to her in shock. She gave him a sideways look before returning her gaze to the ritual markings. "I need this to work."
"Daphne—" he tried to interject but she continued in a stronger voice before he could finish.
"No, look at me," they both turned to face each other and in her eyes blazed a fire of desperation. "I need this to work."
So many words left unsaid, because they needn't be said. He wanted to sarcastically reply that of course it needs to work but that wasn't what she was saying. It was a raw declaration of emotion that could only be understood by those who knew her well. To an outsider it might look as though she was nervous about the ritual but that was only a droplet in the ocean of bundled emotion behind it. He needn't know each fine detail, that was for her to unpack, but he did have a grasp on the significance and instinctively moved to comfort her.
Harry stepped closer and gently grabbed one of her a hands And leaned down to speak softly. There was only one thing to say and say to he did, "we keep moving forward."
Her eyes widened as she recognised her own words. She leaned and Harry though she was going to kiss him again but instead she awkwardly nestled herself into his neck and wrapped her arms around his torso. The embrace was as awkward as ever but Harry reciprocated nonetheless and found himself enjoying it the longer they held each other.
"I would not have these be our last moments together," Daphne whispered in his ear, "live."
The command was simple in principle, more difficult when applied to the context, but one he fully intended to obey. He released her from his arms and nodded, "I will," he promised before turning to the ritual circle.
Pettigrew's prone form struggled to elicit the same kind of rage within Harry as it normally would but Harry forced the issue, bringing forth the memory of the graveyard two years ago to begin the snowball effect of bad memories. He placed his wand in the middle of the circle, next to Pettigrew and pulled free the elder wand from his back pocket. He didn't look back at Daphne, worried that intense feelings would foul up his intent, instead focusing on the first phase.
He lowered his hands downwards and, with a confidence born of weeks of practice, began the chant.
"Άκου με Άδη!" (Hear me Hades).
Below him the runes slowly lit up a dull purple colour but he paid it no mind.
"Ουτος αποψθινω, οΰτω εγώ γίγνομαι αθάνατος!" (This man dies, so I become immortal).
The purple light began to shine brighter, casting its hue across the chamber. A gust of wind uncharacteristic of the chamber blew Harry's hairs violently yet he continued.
"Θυω ό ήμσυς σφιγκτηρ ή ψυχή!" (Sacrifice the half that which binds the soul).
The light seemed to fuse with the wind, kicking up a purple whirlwind at Harry's feet. This was the hardest step in the incantation stage for a surprisingly simple ritual. He raised his wand to Peter, who had woken up in the commotion. His eyes held fear, a fear of death and a plea to not give it to him. The desperation of a coward, especially this coward, served only to anger Harry, just as he needed. Staring at the face of the man who set him on his path by getting his parents murdered, godfather imprisoned and resurrecting Voldemort, he directed his wand to the centre of the man's swollen forehead. The fire in his heart burned and his instincts yearned for blood, the final nail in the coffin was Pettigrew sputtering a final pitiful apology.
Green light joined the purple, creating a colourful dome over Harry, his wand and the lifeless body of Peter Pettigrew. The final stage was there, just one more chant and he would be fighting for his freedom.
With a foreign river of magic coursing through his veins Harry dispassionately turned his gaze from the deceased rat and declared, "επιδεικνυμι τό δεσπότης!" (Reveal the master).
The dome's circular rotation of green and purple light quickened to the point where Harry could barely tell where either colour stopped and the other began. When nothing happened, Harry feared the worst and his arms slagged momentarily. It was then, the dome flashed a brilliant light, blinding Harry completely. He raised his arms reflexively to protect his face before he regained his vision. The dome had lost its form and strands of purple and green light floated aimlessly in the air. Curiosity got the better of him as he reached to touch one but before he could all of the light rushed into him, overloading his magical senses until his entire body burned. Whether it was the pain of an effect of the ritual, intentional or otherwise, Harry fell to his knees and collapsed, unconscious.
June 20th
9:32pm
Harry's Core
Harry
He awoke suddenly, feeling as if a jolt of lightning had zapped him awake. His limbs felt stiff and sore but he rolled to his feet anyway. The thin layer of water below him felt cool to touch but didn't make him wet, this key clue reminded him of why he was here.
His core, the centre of his magical power hung above him, the tendrils of magic keeping it in place just as much as transporting magic to his body. The newest addition was one that stunned Harry momentarily, the volatile magic that had attacked him just seconds ago was present and active in this chamber. The tendrils sparked with powerful magic and a glance at his core showed him it suffered the same fate.
He tensed and began floating slowly towards the core, sparks of magic narrowly missing him as he passed. As he ascended he kept glancing around, searching for his target. 'Both times he found me,' Harry reminded himself, 'wouldn't mind having the element of surprise this time though.'
A deafening roar went up behind him. He spun around to find that the magic had coalesced into a ring surrounding his core. The torrent of ancient magic was beginning to become a concern for Harry, who knew what kind of damage it was causing in his magical centre.
One good thing that came out of the light show was revealing where the horcrux was hiding. Specks of dark smoke behind the great ball of fire that was his core gave him a heading. Harry pivoted, seemingly off of nothing, and went headlong towards what he knew to be a piece of Voldemort.
'If Daphne could see me now she'd be both unsurprised and disappointed,' he mused to himself.
As he rounded the core the smoke became denser, and what Harry began to notice was that the remnant of Voldemort's soul was clinging on to his core like a leech craving blood. He could feel the cold waves of hate seeping into the chamber but they were muted against the tsunami of his own magic. The further south he went the more the horcrux covered his core until, finally, the core was eclipsed by the horcrux's shade. He leaned forward to float closer but paused when he saw a dull light spread through the horcrux slowly. The very fact that he didn't know what had just happened concerned him more than the horcrux he already knew was there. He floated closer and outstretched a hand, an attempt to feel what had happened when it happened again. Sure enough the light appeared again, but he could only feel himself and the horcrux.
'Could it be that I just missed the light show the other times I saw the soul part?' he wondered to himself. He subconsciously was moving closer to the cloud, his hand only centimetres from the shade when it seemed to draw into itself like a wounded animal. 'Why is it so scared now? It never had an issue–'
It seemed the observation of a wounded animal was correct, for that is when it is at its most dangerous. Harry's thought process was interrupted when the shade swiftly expanded and light, that could only be his magic, exploded out, careening him backwards. Harry willed himself to stop spinning backwards and took a second to reset himself, the horcrux hadn't taken up a pursuit, in fact it hadn't moved at all, content to cling to his core.
The magic around him had also become more defined as time went on, symbols of green and purple hung in the air charged with power and intent. He was running out of time and that spurred him on back towards the horcrux. The frequency of the lightning pulsing through the soul piece had increased and Harry had begun to feel a sinking feeling in his stomach.
'What are you doing…' he wondered as he watched light spread through the cloud repeatedly. He strafed left and right, trying to get a better angle to understand what was happening. In doing so his eyes kept catching the lights moving through his tendril when the magic cycle from his core to his body happened. His eyes widened as he pieced it together, 'I'm sure it's no coincidence that light spreads through the cloud the very same moment my magic is in its transportation phase. If it's stealing my magic I'm in for a lot more than I bargained for.'
As if sensing his fear, the soul part of Tom Riddle unlatched itself from the core. The cloud was much larger than he had thought, towering over him and spanning the length of at least five of him head to toe. It cut an imposing figure, added to by rippling with power stolen from him.
"Ssssssooooon I will return," a voice Harry understood to be the horcrux said, the words echoing in the core chamber. "Ruin in the visage of the saviour."
Harry floated upwards to meet him, wary of its capability now that it had taken some of his magic. "I am releasing you from this body," Harry told it, hoping it would fall for his half truth, "you'll be free of me."
"Free…" it's phantom-like voice trailed, "yes, soon I will be free and not only will I be remade but I will wield the power of my enemy."
'Bugger.'
"My magic isn't yours to take," Harry replied hotly. His mind was racing, he really had no clue how to subdue a cloud let alone a sentient one. "Perhaps I need to reconsider the ritual."
The ripple in the cloud vibrated in a way that Harry took as anger. "Do not play games with me, I know what you have started, it will not end until completed."
His bluff in tatters and no obvious course for reason, Harry stared down the horcrux and spoke. "You're right," he admitted and stood straighter, "the separation has already begun, but when you leave my body not a single drop of my magic is going with you."
This time the ripples indicated amusement and the voice said, "and how do you propose to stop me?"
Harry took the words for the challenge they were and hurled himself towards the cloud in a sort of wild shoulder charge. The cloud didn't move, all too happy to allow Harry to pass through it and so he did. That was his first mistake, forgetting the previous encounter on Halloween and months earlier, the horcrux had the capability of cutting him. When he passed through the cloud he was instantly assailed with the feeling of being stabbed and sliced all over, even on his face. He half expected to exit on the other side blind, bleeding and ripped to ribbons but as his momentum carried him through the air he found he could still see, there was no blood and his body was intact.
"A truly devastating attack," the echoing voice mocked him. "Your attempts will all be futile, Harry, you cannot harm me."
Harry recentred himself furiously returned his brain to the task at hand. 'If I keep him occupied he'll inevitably leave, but… with a hefty portion of my magic. That's not acceptable.' A slight twinge in his scar returned him to focus and he watched the cloud warp with sparks and mist to form the silhouette of a person.
"I am in your magic," it taunted whilst raising its hand. Harry realised what it was going to do too late and took the full force of a magic blast front on. He raised his arms instinctively to protect his face and groaned as the magic around him flared and burned his whole body.
"I am in your mind," it continued as a burst of pain in his head made him visibly recoil. Flashes of green mentally slapped him, bodies fell to the floor before him, a man, a woman, a boy. New images, false images followed. The chateau in flames, the dark mark in the air and blood-stained blonde hair fanned out under a pile of rubble.
"Your very essence is laid bare before me, and it will be mine," it said with finality. The shade turned and raised one of its arms and made a pulling motion. From Harry's core a stream of magic connected with the horcrux's hand as it siphoned away Harry's magical energy. "Take heart, Harry, you won't suffer as a squib for long."
Harry, who had been trying to regain his senses, looked up and saw the horrifying sight of Voldemort destroying his very being. Just like with the diary, the horcrux was becoming increasingly humanoid as it returned to its corporeal state. 'Bloody fucking hell, Merlin forbid this be easy.'
"Tom!" he shouted, as he forced himself to rise once more to meet the horcrux. "You forget, you are not in control here."
The shade turned and Harry could make out the oddly shaped head of Voldemort already. "No?" it asked quietly, halting its attack, "you are mistaken to assume this power is yours to begin with." The shade floated closer and put its hands behind its back, its voice lost its ethereal feel and became more smooth. "When you confronted Delores Umbridge it was my influence that made you powerful, the same in the ministry and against the vampires. You were only special because I made it so."
The roaring of the ritual magic continued in the background and the magic symbols sparking in the air flashed with importance. The ritual was coming to a close, both of them knew it. Voldemort dispassionately turned back to his task and continued, "you were lucky to have lived as long as you did, your story should've ended fifteen years ago."
"I stopped relying on luck a long time ago," Harry muttered to himself.
Harry frowned and closed his eyes. What he was about to attempt was a technique detailed in the book Daphne had given him for his birthday, an exercise for learning to exact complete control of your magic. He reached out and connected with his magic, every aspect of it. The ocean in his core, the distant breeze of wards and enchantments in the real world and most importantly, the river flowing directly into the plague before him. With great mental effort he forced it all to be still, his mind recoiling at the tsunami of magic crashing against his will.
His forehead scrunched up and all over his body veins became more defined as he tensed from the mental strain. His eyes began to tear up from shutting them so hard and his teeth were squeezed together so hard he imagined they were moments away from shattering like glass. However, around him, magic being transported through the tendrils of his core halted, the core itself stopped mid cycle and most importantly, the transfer to the horcrux dissipated in front of its eyes.
"What are you doing?" Voldemort hissed as he whipped his head around.
"I am the master of my magic and this ritual, you happen to be surrounded by both. That means…" Harry opened his eyes and outstretched his hand before making a grabbing gesture, "you will obey me."
He pulled towards himself and watched in satisfaction as the horcrux's body lurched as it was pulled by an invisible force. The blurry facial features that had begun to form for the shade showed horror as the magic it had stolen left its body and returned to its rightful owner. It was a brilliant display of light, golden rays arced from monster to man, so bright that it outdid the huge ball of fire behind them.
Harry felt a tingling feeling throughout his body as his magic filled him which motivated him to pull harder. He could faintly make out a scream behind the clutter of noise that his core was making but that again only made him push himself more, relishing the horcrux's pain. The humanoid figure became more formless as the magic left its body, soon enough it lost any defining features and had returned to the cloud he first found. But it didn't stop losing itself, first it struggled less then it became smaller and finally it started lowering to the shallow pool at the bottom of the chamber.
The retransfer ended abruptly, making Harry lean backwards from the energy simply being cut off. He glanced up at his core and saw that the magic surrounding his core was spinning rapidly like a gyroscope and the ambient floating symbols had moved into a formation around his core. They were entering the final moments of the ritual and Harry wanted to be sure that the horcrux was fully subdued before he relaxed.
He willed himself to descend, apprehensively hearing the otherworldly sounds of the ritual increasing in frequency. He reached the floor and landed softly, having already spotted the ashy remains of the horcrux he walked slowly towards it, ready to tap into his magic if heeded to. All that was left of the huge imposing cloud from before was a few wisps surrounding a prone figure. His interest ros debut upon inspection, so did his disgust. A bloody, raw being was curled up in a ball, Harry would be tempted to describe it as a baby but it looked almost alien. With the distinct characteristics of a long bold head and spindly appendages, Harry knew exactly what he was looking at.
'Yeah,' he thought to himself, 'that's you… that's always been you.'
He stared down at the splintered soul of his greatest adversary with dispassionate eyes. His shadow loomed over the soul fragment with his back turned to his core. Neither could see the ritual playing its part, they could only listen as the roaring rhythmic sound of the magic spinning around his core quickened where the beats turned into a constant sound until… BOOM. The chamber exploded with light and Harry keeled over before falling to his knees. He was quickly losing his vision as he fell on his side, his final sight being the ugly being beside arching it's back, screaming and disappearing.
AN: Fucking hell this took ages to finish. For reference I would, everyday, finish work, turn the PlayStation on and open this on my second monitor. Everyday I'd have the intention of finishing this chapter but I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to write it. Anyway, enough of that, reflection time.
The idea to have Tonks actually use her powers for something came a while ago when I was planning ATFS. Pretty sneaky aye? Didn't get much from the rat besides confirmation though, but is anyone surprised he's not trusted with anything special? The end of the ministry is coming, I'm just happy Sirius and Remus had their moment of revenge.
Little but of Salazar as a prelude to the ritual. I purposefully left details of the ritual vague so that when it came to reading it you wouldn't really know what to expect, I hope that made it more enjoyable.
Love a bit of Daphne emotion… kinda. I initially had like a whole spiel of her declaring how much she needs him to live and his amazing they are together but upon reading it like once I was pretty sure that was just wrong. Too emotionally stunted teenagers wouldn't often understand their emotions let alone know how to articulate them properly. In this case less was more I reckon.
Right, the ritual. So the Ancient Greek that you see here is from my notes that I wrote nearly two years ago now so it's a bit choppy but it should be pretty close to readable for any of you who have also studied it. I really included that for myself cause it would be fun to craft but I did write in its relevance with Herpo being Greek and all that so I hope it doesn't feel out of place.
The wand being the container seemed to me to be the only choice. The broomstick isn't personal enough, there's no inherent magic in his picture book of his parents he uses the black knife heirloom often. Yes he uses his wand often too but he recently got a replacement one said to be much more powerful and not directly linked to Voldemort's in any way.
Alright, the core. This is where I really struggled to finish the chapter. I had a fairly solid idea of how I wanted to write it but then I found a flaw in that plan which unravelled the rest of it. It's been a long time in the making obviously, having introduced it at the start of book two with a reoccurring focus on it. I really struggled to find a way where Harry has a 'moment' that he should have when something this significant happens. Got there in the end though with the 'master of my magic' part and I'm fairly happy with how it turned out. I'm a bit iffy about the imagery for how the core evolves as the ritual goes on from wild ambient magic to a more deliberate intention. The 'fight' with Voldemort is the part where I struggled the most, I couldn't figure out how I wanted it to go. Fortunately the idea of it leeching magic allowed for me to play on the time factor to create urgency and a need to act rather than just waiting for it to be separated.
All in all I'm honestly happy this chapter is done because I hate feeling stuck.
Next chapter: The clam before the storm
Hope you all enjoyed!
Socials in profile when I get around to it.