Chapter Fourteen
What had transpired in the depths of the school no one knew for sure, but in the days following the rumour mill of Hogwarts was working overtime as it pumped out more and more absurdities.
Some claimed that they had seen a great battle unfold where the Headmaster had single-handedly fought off a host of Dark Wizards, others claimed that it had been the Headmaster practising dark and forbidden Magic and he had disappeared several students and that was why there were Aurors stationed about the school.
All that Callian knew for certain was that he and his grandfather had stumbled across something down in the depths of the school and that thirteen students from among the four Houses had vanished without a trace. However, he found his attention focused upon the newspaper before him.
Albus Dumbledore resigns as Chief Warlock. Students practising Dark Magic vanished.
Callian stared at the headline, while he had never much cared for the rubbish usually printed in the Daily Prophet this certainly had caught his eye.
He had been handed the paper by a grim-looking Draco, they had taken to joining the boy in his new quarters.
After his beating at the hands of Flint he had tried to return to his house only to be met with disdainful looks and utter silence, only Crabbe had made to speak to him but Draco had waved him to silence. He had not wanted his last remaining friend in Slytherin to be ostracised along with him, the Headmaster at Lucius' insistence had granted Draco a rather comfortable suite of quarters near the Ravenclaw tower. Even he had been impressed after Draco had reluctantly given them a tour, the Malfoy heir now had a suite that matched any within Castle Blackwood.
He assumed that they must have been guest quarters for dignitaries or others of high rank as the furniture was tastefully decorated with golden gilt, the carpets soft and plush underfoot.
Everything spoke of subtle wealth and was of a quality that he had rarely seen among his fellow Magi.
"I thought that we had been seeing more of him recently, is he going to address the students about it?" Callian asked as he handed the paper to Harry.
Draco could only shrug his shoulders. "I have no idea, I got a letter from my father this morning explaining some of it. Apparently, the Headmaster called an emergency session of the Wizengamot and dropped that little treat last night, he said they had to call in the Ministry guards to keep the peace after a riot nearly started."
Callian just shook his head while Harry laughed at Draco's words, he could well imagine the power vacuum that had been left by Albus Dumbledore suddenly leaving the political stage.
"I assumed that your father is taking full advantage of the situation?" Callian asked as he set the paper aside to finish his breakfast. For the first time that morning, Draco offered them a small smile.
"He had been talking to his friends among the old families and they are all in agreement to back Lord Mayweather. He is head of an Old family and has good friends upon both sides of the divide, yet is always willing to listen to good Counsel."
This time Callian did laugh, he knew well what Counsel men like Lucius would be offering. Words that no doubt carried their weight in gold.
Harry just shook his head as he summoned a plate laden with seasoned meats. "I never thought I would ever be sitting here talking about the damn Wizengamot, how has my life changed so much it's not even that strange anymore?"
Draco as had become the norm for them chose not to ignore the rhetoric. "That is because you were raised amongst barbarians', it is not your fault you are an uneducated cretin."
Harry just laughed at Draco's words. "Barbarians is a compliment to the Dursleys, Draco. You could call them lack witted pond scum' or even brain dead walrus' but I think even that may be too kind."
Draco could only shake his head, for as much as he held Harry's muggle family in contempt it was nothing to the hatred that Harry himself held for them.
Soon a knock heralded the arrival of the rest of their group and Draco once more resumed his sour expression as Adria and Hermione took their seats at the small table.
As had become the norm the two girls were exceedingly polite to the Slytherin, often getting Draco to join their conversations without him realising what he was doing.
It made the confused and indignant looks upon his face all the more amusing to the rest of them.
It was not long before this became the norm for them, they would meet in Draco's rooms in the mornings for breakfast before heading to class. Callian felt better now that Hermione had Draco with her when they were separated. Despite the boy's feelings about muggles and even muggle-borns, he knew that both Draco and Hermione had come to enjoy each other's sarcastic remarks and had even heard the two of them discussing the pros and cons of the Magical vs the Mundane.
The weeks began to slip by with increasing swiftness and they had yet to hear or see of anyone looking to target either Draco or the girls. He and Harry had shown the others the servants' passages that ran throughout the school in the days following the assault, and it was not long before they started to explore the seemingly endless twists and turns.
They had occasionally seen one or both of the twins running about the third floor but other than that they appeared deserted, they had been able to figure out where the twins had explored or the paths they usually took by the amount or lack of dust covering the floors.
They had decided to follow the passages to the seventh floor where they had been able to follow the signs to the main entrance that by lucky happenstance was not far from Draco's quarters.
Their wanderings in those ancient passages revealed much and they had even stumbled upon a few items left from the time of the Founding, a few nick-nacks that they had stumbled across that had borne the centuries well.
Hermione and Adria had happily claimed two wooden rings that bore several carved ravens encircling the band; they held only what seemed faint traces of preservation magic but the two seemed happy with their new finds.
Callian himself had stumbled upon what looked like a diary, it had great passages written in old English, in a neat and delicate script that he had no hope of understanding. But what caught his eye were the detailed drawings that seemed to depict enchantments and even a few that bore the complex runic forms that demonstrated Spellweaves.
His discovery seemed to light a fire within him and he began to spend more and more time searching through the maze of passages, searching through storerooms and what looked like personal quarters. He had even taken to skipping those lessons that he found had no use for, something that had earned him the ire of his Housemates as it had begun to cost him house points.
Few however had the will to call him on it. He had already been on the receiving end of several dark looks for who his father was, he had little care if a few more shot his dirty looks over what he considered a pointless contest.
The lessons his grandfather had instilled in him refused to allow him to try and Weave the spells that he found within the diary, but that did not stop him from memorising them.
He had sought out every codex the school's library had on old English and had made inroads in deciphering the diary.
He had yet to learn to whom it belonged but even the small amount that he had translated had revealed a mind every bit as sharp as that of his grandfather.
It was one out of a number of diaries as it kept referencing having already documented certain things that still eluded his translations, yet he had high hopes of uncovering the secrets of the first weave the book detailed.
He had learned that it had to do with altering stone, a weave that was similar in some ways to transfiguration yet more complex and involved.
He had been baffled how an already complex art could be any more difficult but then he had never seen magic detailed such as this before.
All good things can not last and it was in the early days of spring when one of the twins found him in the early hours of the morning in his commandeered classroom, panting and looking mildly panicked as he explained they had seen Marcus flint and two of his companions on the seventh floor and that he was close to Draco's room.
Callian had spent much of the night translating the diary, and as such, it took his tired mind a moment to process just what he had been told.
Although his tiredness was quickly washed away when he finally registered the older boy's words, a quick look at his pocket watch told him that it was still several hours before dawn.
He felt his stomach drop at the thought of a madman like Flint anywhere near his friends and quickly ordered Weasley to go and get the Headmaster. He followed the twin from his room and watched him tear away at a dead sprint; they had all been told that if they saw any of the missing thirteen then they were to tell a professor immediately. Callian was certainly not about to question that now ran for where he knew Flitwick's quarters to be.
His feet carried him there in no time and he wasted no time in banging on the diminutive teacher's door, Flitwick soon had the door flung open with a look of weariness hanging about his features.
The part Goblin was still fully dressed and seemed to had been conducting a little late-night research himself, but seeing Callian's wild-eyed look he flicked his wand and Callian immediately began to feel calmer.
"Just what is the meaning of this, Master Blackwood?!" The professor's squeaky demand seemed to open the proverbial dam, as Callian began to blurt out everything that he had been told in such swiftness that he was stumbling over his words even with the aid of the calming charm.
He watched as the man's already sharp features took on a much harsher quality, the man began to flick his wand sending several motes of silvery light shooting off into the gloom of the school.
"Callian I must insist that you remain here, where it is safe. I shall go and deal with these intruders to bide time for my colleagues to arrive."
Another flick of his wand summoned forth a set of dark robes that all but screamed to his arcane sight, they were sized to fit the part goblin perfectly and Flitwick wasted no time in shrugging them on.
Gone was the often excitable teacher, in his place stood a Magi used to the horrors of battle having lived and fought through several wars.
With a last penetrating look Flitwick took off at a run, Callian found himself hesitating only for a moment before he took off after the teacher.
His friend was in trouble and like hell was he going to stand aside and let him be hurt once again.
The first explosion nearly threatened to throw him from his feet, before it was quickly followed by several more that sent him into a headlong tumble. Scrambling to his feet he rounded the corner and stepped into a scene of utter chaos.
The flash of spell light filled the corridor, huge gouges had been torn into the walls of the castle. Through one he could see the faint pink of predawn tinging the horizon, he found his attention pulled back to the present as his hair was blown across his face from a spell that punched a fist-sized divot into the wall beside his head.
He winced against the shower of stone that stung his face before he focused his attention on the duel ahead of him.
Flitwick was managing to hold his own and Callian felt a sense of awe as he watched the smaller man duck and weave amidst the flows of magic. In comparison the three opposing him seemed to be as still as statues as they channelled an obscene amount of power, Flint seemed to be the conductor for the mad frenzy of spells that hurtled death towards the teacher.
For every ten spells that came towards him, Flitwick seemed to only fire one in return. At first, Callian assumed the small part-Goblin was outmatched but it quickly became clear that he was easily holding his own, he realised that despite the onslaught of spells the charms professor seemed intent on disabling and binding the would-be Dark Wizards.
Ribbons of green flame burned through the air where Flitwick had just been standing, Callian could only cry out in alarm as those cursed flames hurtled towards him.
His cry seemed to alert the Professor to the danger and Flitwick turned with his hand outstretched, and as if in answer to his will the flames halted mid-flight before the Professor waved his wand and flames disappeared in a flurry of flaming motes.
Callian could only cry out in horror as the momentary distraction it took for Flitwick to halt the flames the trio attacked.
The small form of the charms Professor tumbled end over end as he was struck by a dozen spells that before he came to a rest at Callian's feet, only the faint rise and fall of the professor's chest let him know that he was still alive.
Cold, cruel laughter had his head snapping up to stare into the glowing red eyes of Marcus Flint.
Eyes that blazed with fire and hatred so strong it was almost a physical force, eyes that he had seen before as they disappeared into a Troll's maw. Eyes that he would never forget for as long as he lived.
"Ahh, it seems as if another uninvited guest has appeared, the heir of the Blackwoods. I must say it is a pleasure to meet you, at last. We have learned so much about you in recent months."
Callian could not fight the shiver that ran down his spine at the sibilant hiss that clung to the words, it made them sound alien to his ears almost as if they clung to the very edge of human speech.
Gathering his courage he stepped over the prone form of his Head of House, he felt the man trying to grab hold of his robes as if to pull him back. Pulling his robes from the man's grasping fingers Callian walked towards the trio.
"I know who you are."
His word seemed to surprise the boy, slowly Flint cocked his head to the side. "My, my you are a courageous one. Tell me, boy. If you know who I am then say it. Speak my name for the world to hear."
Callian centred himself in the darkness of his mind, he felt nothing as he lost himself in the Void. His emotions were a distant spark of flame at the edge of his mind, yet as he made to speak a tremor of fear threatened to disrupt his calm.
"Lord Voldemort."
Behind him he heard Flitwick give a strangled cry, that was as much a mix of alarm and horror as it was from the pain.
A surprisingly rich laugh answered his words, and Callian felt a battering ram of a mental probe delve deep into the Void about his thoughts. "You do indeed know much, far more than most. And power, such power and so young you have yet to grow into your full potential. Far more than this weak fool I now inhabit."
A queer look twisted the possessed boy's features, to Callian's eyes it looked almost like a mix of greed and hatred as those red eyes looked him over like a prized piece of meat.
"I could make you great. I could show you Magic that would take you far past the limits of what you are now capable of. Join me and I will seat you above all but myself, join me and I will teach you Magic the likes of which not even your grandfather could dream of."
It was like a whisper, echoing within his mind.
The temptation to accept the Dark Lord's offer was nearly overwhelming. Until he felt the amulet about his neck pulse with a burning heat that reached him even within the Void of his mind.
It was as if a curtain had been pulled from before his eyes, and he could sense the cold touch of the Dark Lord within his mind. The mental probe he had felt before lingered still and seemed to struggle to push deeper, from that cold touch the whispers of the Dark Lord sought to entice him to join with him. Once more his amulet had saved him and he sent a silent thank you towards his father for creating it for him.
In answer to the Dark Lords' offer Callian grabbed hold of the mental probe and forced it from his mind, the possessed form of Marcus Flint stumbled slightly as his probe was defeated before he straightened with another mad cackle.
Before the shade of Lord Voldemort could speak Callian spat out a curse in Dwarvish that would have made even Ironmane blush. "You are nothing, just a nightmare that refuses to fade. You have nothing that I want to learn, and certainly nothing that my Grandfather could not teach me."
Callian did not hesitate as he remembered the words that his Father and Ironmane had instilled in him ever since he had begun to learn to wield the sword.
Strike hard. Strike fast. Do everything you can to end the fight quickly.
Half a dozen spears of pure force shot from his outstretched hand, he had only had to think about it and the spellweaves had formed. It was the first time he had instinctively happened yet he did not stop to watch the spells fly, a moment of thought and a shield sprang into being covering the downed form of the Professor. He knotted the spell off as quickly as he could before he was moving, and just in time as several spells tore through the air where he had just been standing. A quick look at his opponents revealed only two were standing as the third boy lay in a crumpled heap at their feet, their body either broken by his spells or wounded enough to take them out of the fight.
It seemed that he had angered the Dark Lord, as the possessed form of Marcus Flint began to fire spells that gave off a foul tainted feel as they howled through the air. Ducking out of the way of a jet of purple light that left a sizable scorch mark upon the wall, Callian came to a stop next to one of the main suits of armour that lined the corridors of the school.
Another shield sprang into being and was nearly brought down by one of the Dark Lord's curses, and he was quick to Weave another into being behind it. Callian was amazed at the sheer power that the vile Shade had at his disposal, he doubted that the Dark Lord had even a fraction of his full strength and he was like a titan blazing bright at the edge of his sight.
He had to thank whatever deity was watching over him that he had been able to survive this long, and he was certain that was mostly surprise and sheer dumb luck.
Taking a second he gathered himself as he began his next weave, placing his hand upon the suit of armour he began to change it to his will.
The metal rippled and ran like water as he forced it to mould to his desire, he was soon left with a dozen metal spears that hovered in the air before him. They were crude constructs but they would serve him well as he banished them all in the direction of the two older teens.
They were little more than gnats to the Dark Lord as he stopped several that had been flying in his direction with barely a care, his companion was not so lucky and three spears embedded themselves into him with such force that he was pinned to the wall behind.
Callian's control of the Void about his thoughts shattered then as he witnessed the sight of someone only a few years older than him die by his hand.
A Cackle of sheer delight answered him as the Dark Lord looked at his companion with an appreciative eye.
"My, my, I was not expecting this at all. You hold a lot more bite than I ever thought I would find among these pathetic excuses for Magicians."
Callian could say nothing as he stared in horror at what he had done, something that the Dark Lord seemed to take exception to as he fired a pain spell at him that brought him screaming to his knees.
Eventually, the pain subsided and Callian managed to look up into the madly grinning face of a possessed Marcus Flint.
"Do not look so shocked little Killer. Death is not the fate of my Thirteen."
At his words, Callian watched as the boy raised his hands like a conductor, and could only gape in horror as the student he had pinned to the wall jerked as if electrocuted. He watched as one hand shot out stiffly and grasped the shaft of the spear, slowly, inch by inch they began to pull themselves forward along the metal spears until they were free. The bloody metal wavered behind them sending splatters of blood every which way as the teen came to stand beside the Dark Lord. They were soon joined by the one Callian had downed before Voldemort turned a proud grinning face to him.
"I told you there was much that I could teach you, even death is a fleeting thing before the might of Lord Voldemort."
A voice like the boom of thunder sounded then as the Headmaster appeared in a flash of flame.
"You have and will ever be afraid of Death, Thomas." Above the Headmasters, Phawkes beat his wings as the phoenix uttered a shrill cry that brought the Dark Lord to his knees. The Headmaster spoke as if he was talking to a disobedient child rather than the Dark Lord, something that Callian could not help but laugh at the absurdity of.
Seizing the opportunity Albus joined the fray and in short order, he had quickly bound the two servants of the Dark Lord in transfigured stone bonds that held them to the walls and ceiling of the corridor.
The possessed form of Marcus Flint seemed to be fighting to regain his feet, as he fended off the Headmaster's spells with barely a care. Callian watched in amazement as the fiery red eyes of a monster began to flicker only to be replaced by the pained and terrified eyes of a child as a shadow seemed to be momentarily forced from the boy.
Callian watched as Marcus Flint looked pleadingly towards the Headmaster as he screamed for the pain to stop.
"Please! Let it end! Make it stop!" Callian had never heard such desperation and felt a cold dread as the Shadow returned to the boy and the burning red eyes of Lord Voldemort stared back at them.
"He is mine, Dumbledore! Mine! He gave himself to me willingly to use as I see fit."
Behind him Callian felt a surge of power so strong it stole the breath from his body, he pressed himself flat against the wall of the corridor as he turned to stare at the Headmaster.
Gone was the grandfatherly appearance. Gone were the twinkling blue eyes that seemed to find delight in even the smallest of things.
Now stood a Wizard of absolute power. Where he had always marvelled at the strength of his grandfather that was always kept in check, to look upon the Headmaster now was like seeing that restraint shattered.
To his Arcane sight, the Headmasters magic was like a pulsing aura of light that battered the Shadow of the Dark Lord even without the aid of spell or Weave. To him, the man shone as brightly as the phoenix that hovered overhead, a being of pure power that would no longer be held in check.
"Leave the boy and begone or I shall unmake you where you stand."
The words seemed to reverberate in his chest, the very air hanging heavy with the threat of their power and Callian watched the features of Marcus Flint twist in pain as the spirit inhabiting his body was buffeted by the light of the Headmaster's Magic.
"You can not kill me Dumbledore. If I leave the boy dies. I have been drawing from him to inhabit this flesh, only I keep the spark of his soul from fading."
A grimace twisted the headmaster's features and Callian watched as Albus hesitated, the swell of the Headmaster's Magic falling back into himself.
Callian knew then that the Headmaster would let Voldemort go, he could never bring himself to kill an innocent, even for the betterment of all.
Despite his own roiling emotions over what he had learned, he found himself on his feet as he sensed the truth of the Dark Lord's words. To his sight, the spark of light at the heart of the shadowy mass that was Voldemort was fluttering like a candle in a hurricane. Wrapping his mind in the emptiness of the Void he raised his hand as he began to weave a spell into being, again and again, he folded Magic until it was as dense as he had ever managed. His hand was alight with spell light as he sent forth a spear of force, it was only a thin distortion in the air as it shot through the span between them as quick as thought.
His mind was once more wrapped so deep with the Void of thought that he watched with a sense of detachment as the Weave tore a ragged hole through Marcus Flint.
Callian watched the boy fall as a shadowy wraith departed even before the body had hit the floor. Staring into the motes of crimson flame that passed for the creature's eyes, Callian spoke.
"Then he will die free of your taint."
The wraith of Lord Voldemort cackled a sound that was distinctively unpleasant to hear.
"Such potential! I will look forward to our next meeting, little killer."
Callian walked forwards as he watched the Wraith of Lord Voldemort and his two followers seem to become part of the shadows as they faded into the predawn gloom.
With their disappearance, Callian felt his control of the Void slip from him and his mind was assaulted by the torrent of emotions behind everything that had just transpired. Falling to his knees, he felt the first hot tears begin to fall as he moved to cradle the gasping face of Marcus Flint in his hands.
A ragged, frothy blood-filled cough greeted him and he felt the stinging splatter of it upon his face, it felt like acid upon his skin as he stared into the scared brown eyes of the dying boy.
Marcus' hand weakly twitched where it lay covering the ragged hole in his chest, the hole that Callian had torn there.
He found the world growing blurry as he tried to look through the flood of tears that poured from his eyes, again and again, Marcus' kept muttering and Callian found himself leaving closer to hear the boy's dying words.
Flint's bloody hand rose to weakly tremble against his face as he whispered his last.
"He has another-"
