Chapter Seventeen.

His world seemed to buck and heave as wave after wave of Arcane energies crashed over him, but what truly made his heartbeat wildly was the familiar presence that was intertwined with wild Magic.

He had cried out in horror as soon as the first wave had washed over him and knew that Callian had done the unthinkable and reached out to the near limitless energies of his surroundings and it would be his undoing.

Even he, so learned in the ways of Magic, would never dare to attempt such a thing.

It was suicide, and he with his vast experience in channelling the combined might of scores of Magi at one time would be unmade in an instant.

Albus was at his side then, the man's normally bright eyes holding a haunted quality as he rested his hand upon Denevan's shoulder.

"I am so sorry." The Headmaster breathed.

Denevan could only stare vacantly ahead as he slumped against the wall of the corridor.

Belor rushed to his side as he slowly slid down the wall until he was sitting upon the floor.

"What is it, Den? Has somethin' happened?" The Dwarf demanded as he came to kneel beside his friend.

Deaf to the flows of the Magic the Dwarves were unaffected by the chaotic onslaught of Magic that crashed over the school, and Denevan found himself unable to answer him as another wave carrying an echo of Callian's presence hit him once more.

Albus looked at the Dwarf, his eyes brimming with unshed tears as he worked to clear his throat.

"It is-" he stopped to take a fortifying breath. "Someone has…someone has opened themselves to the Wild Magic of the World, we can feel the backlash of it washing over the school." He stared down at the Dwarf as the first tears began to track their way down his cheeks. "I am sorry Belor, I am so sorry."

The Dwarf began to look worried now and he grabbed hold of the Headmaster's belt as he demanded an explanation. "What is it, Wizard! What are yeh not tellin' me?"

Albus' grip tightened on Denevan's shoulder before he uttered words that brought a howl of anguish from the Dwarf. "It is Callian. We can feel Callian's Magic amidst the storm."

Belor's scream had his guard drawing their blades and moving to form a protective ring about them, Ironmane was quick to his side where he too let out a howl of anguish at the news.

Denevan managed to climb to his feet, his face having adopted the blank mask of someone delving deeply into the Mind Arts.

"I must find my Daughter. She will need me."

Belor's shoulders heaved as his anguish quickly shifted to anger.

"Where did the Magic come from! I will find my son, I won't let him rot in this Gods' forsaken place."

Albus looked torn between deciding who to follow out of the two grieving souls, but in the end, he told the Dwarf where to find the source of the Magic before trailing after Denevan as the man disappeared down the corridor.

Despite the blanketing emptiness of the Void that surrounded his mind, it did little to quell the ache in his heart.

Sometimes grief cut too deep for even the most adept practitioner of the Mind Arts to hold at bay, at his feet cracks began to form in the stone as his Magic strained to unleash itself upon the world.

For the first time in decades, his Magic raged against his control in response to his turbulent emotions and he did not have it in him to try and fight it. There was a part of him that wanted to let go and simply unleash everything he had to try and burn out the pain of losing his beloved grandson.

Another wave of power crashed over him, this time stronger and seemed to hum in its passing. A sob broke from his lips, a ragged sound that carried with it all the pain he had been trying to hold at bay. He knew what that humming meant, it was known in the past as The Last breath of the Soul.

It was once a more common thing in the distant past when Spellweaving was as prevalent as wand Magic, and foolish Magi ignored the warnings of their elders and reached out to draw upon the Wild Magic of the world. It was the final moments when the Soul desperately sought to fight to stave off the inevitable.

Albus was at his side once more, his former apprentice offering him a supporting shoulder as he helped him the last distance to where his grieving family awaited.

He could hear Amerytha's anguished cries from several corridors away, and he wanted nothing more than to hold his daughter and try and find some way out of the black pit of despair that had opened up inside him.


The world seemed to have suddenly become a much darker place.

With the events of the past few days he had seen and heard some truly haunting things, but watching his best friend's mother sprawled upon the floor he had never seen something so soul-wrenching.

He felt the hair rise on his body as he listened to her cries and as he watched her, he found himself unsure of what to do.

Standing to one side he allowed the others in the room to move towards the grieving woman, but he found himself backing towards the door of the chamber as Lord Black stumbled into the room with the aid of the Headmaster. The man's face was a mask of pain and Harry found himself wanting to be away from there, he quickly slipped from the room while everyone was distracted and ran as far and as fast as his feet would take him.

He ignored the surprised calls of the Dwarven guards as he ran along the corridor, the only thought running through his mind was to get away from the grieving family of his friend.

He did not hear the calls of concerned staff as he fled past them, only the agonised cries of Amerytha filled his ears and no matter how far he ran from her it did nothing to stop the noise. The cool night air seemed to break him from his panicked flight and he was amazed to find he had made it out of the castle.

Harry stopped walking as he took a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart, he turned his gaze to the heavens above and just allowed himself a moment to try and process everything that had happened.

His friend was gone.

That was what everyone believed, but a part of him refused to believe it. How could Callian be gone? There was no way that someone who had changed his life so much in a few short months would suddenly be snatched away, he would not accept it until he had seen Callian's body with his own eyes.

A commotion behind him had him looking up to see Belor stomping towards him, his guards were a step behind and he did not fail to note their hard eyes sweeping every inch of the courtyard and he felt a cold tingle run down his spine when their gaze took him.

Belor came to an abrupt halt when he caught sight of him standing there, and Harry felt his heart sink at the sight of those red-rimmed eyes.

"Yeh should not be here, lad." Belor's voice was little more than a rasping growl as he stared down at him.

Harry said nothing as he turned to stare out across the courtyard in the direction that the Dwarves had been heading. Harry felt his own eyes begin to burn at the sight of the Dwarf's silent tears but just sniffed loudly to hide the tears threatening to fall.

"I had to get out of there, they're all talking as if he is gone." Harry's voice held a gruffness to it that spoke volumes, even if he had managed to school his face into some semblance of calm.

Belor ducked his head as he seemed to take a steadying breath to try and calm himself before he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry son, not even Den could survive this. I've been around yer kind long enough to know that it's a death sentence to open yerself to the Magic of the world." Seeing Harry's confused look Belor tried to explain.

"Althena once explained it to me like a Wizard's Reservoir being like a balloon and the world's magic like the ocean, a Magi, no matter how gifted simply can't handle a fraction of that power."

Harry just stared through Belor, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. Yet Belor found his brows drawing together into a frown as the young boy stood straighter and turned eyes that seemed to blaze with some understanding that escaped him.

"I do not accept that. I will not accept it. Cal is…different. I do not know how to explain it, or even how I know, but he is alive."

Belor could only shake his head at the boy's words, yet a seed of hope had been ignited in him. Harry and his son were connected by bonds stronger than any that he knew, they were chosen by fate and he doubted even the inevitability of death could contend with the machinations of that conniving bitch.

Belor lifted his hand as he knuckled the boy's chin, causing Harry to grin. "Aye, lad. Then we will find him together."

Walking side by side they began the long trek into the forest, Harry conjuring a globe of light into being above his hand with only a moment's thought after he had stumbled over several twisted roots that had grown out of the soil. Belor winced as the warm amber light bathed over the surrounding tree. His people were used to the darkness of their mines and underground tunnel, the bright moonlight filtering through the thick canopy overhead was more than enough for him and his guard to see by.

From what Albus had said they had a long way to travel yet. Callian had made it nearly to the foot of the mountains that surrounded the school, and he could see their snow-clad peaks glinting eerily in the moonlight as they passed under a break in the canopy. He pulled his axe free of its loop at his waist as he eyed the trees for any dangers, from his guess it would be near morning by the time they reached the mountains.

Keeping his gaze away from the bobbing glow of Harry's spell light he led his guard deeper into the forest.


The Shadow swept through the halls and corridors unimpeded. Its great mass extended inky tendrils to propel itself ever onward, within its heart the two crimson fires stared out at the world. The untethered spirit of Lord Voldemort was for the first time that he could remember, without hate or fear. They had been his driving forces in his life, during his youth they had been what had driven him to develop his talent for Spellweaving. It had been what had enabled him to fight back against his childhood bullies, his fear of the beatings and worse from the older children in the orphanage had made fertile ground for his hatred of those who sought to use him.

The dim embers of it had only been fanned to new heights after he had entered the Magical World and had come to learn the truth of his family and lineage. Of the decline and inbred remnants of the once-mighty House Slytherin.

Looking at the school he felt once more the tingle of pride in the legacy of his Forefather, Salazar had been a vital part of the history and development of the magical world. Not just here in Britain, but Magi everywhere had come to emulate what the Founders had achieved.

He had studied from the ancient journals that Salazar had left behind, buried far below in the long lost Chamber of Secrets. Learned of the Founders' great dream of finding all with the spark of Magic and bringing it roaring to life.

He had laughed like a madman when he had learned how the bigoted Pureblood elitist had corrupted their great vision, but he had happily used the fools' hatred to further his own goals.

He had remembered reading Salazar's words on the breaking of their fellowship, it had all started when Rowena sought to remove any with the talent from their families. To raise them among their own kind, away from the filth and lunacy of the many fanatics that had risen with the rise of Christianity. Godric and Helga had called for patience and that it was too callous a move, but Salazar had long been a lover of Rowena's and together they had ignored the others. It was this that had led to the infamous duel between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and the inescapable tensions that had forced Salazar to leave the others to their fates and set off for parts unknown.

Turning a corner the Shade came face to face with a simple wooden door, sealed by only the simplest of Magic. He could detect the gossamer-thin filaments of Magic that would alert the Headmaster if the door was opened, a child would be able to dismantle the Ward with ease and if he had a head he would have shaken it at the foolishness of the man.

He had a suspicion that the protections that had been placed upon his prize were never intended to keep him out, but were rather a test for certain individuals among the students.

His thoughts once more returned to the Potter and Blackwood Heirs. He had been somewhat dismayed at how mundane Harry Potter had appeared in the first few days of his schooling, his prophesied vanquisher had appeared as nothing more than an average child of mediocre talent. However, under the tutelage and encouragement of the Blackwood heir, he had quickly risen to be one of the most promising students among the first years. Yet, Potter was nothing compared to the young Blackwood. He was as gifted if not more so than he himself had been in his youth, the boy's talent for Spellweaving was incredible. No doubt a testament to training before Hogwarts under Lord Blackwood.

Slipping through cracks in the stone the Shade found himself within the first chamber and staring into the drooling maw of a sleeping Cerberus. With only a thought, thirteen shadows detached from him as he took a more humanoid form. Raising a hand a spear of force began to form between his fingers, behind him thirteen wands raised in chorus with his own, each aglow with spell light.

Yet slowly he lowered his hand as a thought came unbidden into his mind, had he a mouth he would have been grinning widely as he moved towards the Cerberus. Without hesitation, he drove his insubstantial hand into the centre most head of the great beast as he began to layer compulsions into the creature's mind.

When he was done he stepped back as the Cerberus woke with a growl, before turning three sets of identical eyes in his direction. Quickly the growling turned into the eager whine of a pet desperate for the attention of a kind master.

With a laugh, Voldemort sent the beast to guard the door as he resumed his task.

Once more the thirteen became a part of him as he descended into the depths of the school, following secret ways that he had not even known existed from his own time exploring the castle. A time when he had thought he had learned more of the castle than anyone in living memory. He easily slipped past the next few defences when a sudden storm of raw Magical energy swept over him and he screamed as his hold on his form was nearly sundered.

He felt the cold creep of fear settle into his heart, as wave after wave of unbridled power tore at him.

Eventually, he managed to gather himself enough to erect powerful shields about him that helped to mitigate the damage wrought by the onslaught. His fears subsided when he realised that this was not some cunning working of Magic by the Headmaster but the final death throes of a dying soul.

He laughed then as he tasted a familiar presence washing over him, he had hoped to encounter the Blackwood heir again but it seemed that was not to be.

He found himself mourning the fact that he would not be able to add another soul to his collection, but he could always find another powerful young Magi to add to the ranks of his new circle.

With a shake of his head he continued his task, his prize was so close now. He nearly had his heart's desire in his hands and soon he would have a new body and with it true untainted immortality.


Albus grunted as he felt his Wards surrounding the Stone below the school recoil and snap as they released the precious artefact into the world once more. It seemed his final protection had not been as secure as he had hoped.

It seemed his minor break in composure did not go unnoticed as he found several sets of eyes watching him wearily. He explained to those present just what had happened and he watched as the dead look in the eyes of Amerytha took on another colder and more sinister quality.

It was a look that had once caused fear to sprout in the hearts of the Dark Lords forces during the War, only now the pain and grief felt at the death of her son had given it an altogether darker edge.

A similar look had entered Denevan's eyes as the last of the Blackwoods rose from their seats. Without waiting for him they filed from the room and began to head to the lower levels of the Castle, he was quick to follow as he prepared himself for what was to come.

They reached the third floor with little hassle and had gathered a handful of Aurors along the way, Amerytha did not listen for his call to halt and a mere wave of her hand had the door slamming open to reveal the snarling face of a Cerberus that threw itself at them with wild abandon.

Behind him, he heard several cries of alarm and a few of the Aurors demanded answers as to why there was a dangerous creature in a school full of children, they were all ignored as the Cerberus threw its bulk at the entryway.

It desperately sought to squeeze its bulk through the open doorway, its three heads snapping at each other as they tried to get at them through the small opening. Albus quickly stepped forward as he sought to calm the raging Cerberus, but his nearness only seemed to enrage the creature even further. Stone and ancient masonry began to crack as the beast threw itself at the doorway again and again, despite his calls for calm and even his hastily conjured musical instruments to try and lull the beast back into its sleep the three-headed dog continued to try and rip and tear at him.

It seemed that Amerytha was not content to wait as she unleashed a scorching burst of flame through the doorway.

A howl of pain answered her quickly followed by the acrid stench of burnt fur, barking a command at the Aurors behind her they soon had an overlapping shield erected before them as they pushed their way into the room.

Albus followed after them and could only wince at the sight of the raw, bloody and charred flesh of the Cerberus' muzzle, yet despite the enormous pain that it was in the brutish creature was already on its feet as it began to slowly circle them.

Once more its six amber eyes stayed riveted upon him and he had felt his heart sink as he began to suspect what the Dark Lord had done to the beast.

He voiced his suspicions to the rest of them before he and Denevan began to move to the side of the chamber. Slowly the beast turned to follow them, seizing the opportunity Amerytha and the Aurors opened fire with a salvo of cutting and piercing curses that tore into the neck of the nearest head.

A trio of identical howls of agony issued forth, but to their dismay, they had only managed to open several deep wounds in the creature's neck.

Yet the open wound seemed to send the creature into a frenzy and it launched itself at the group who had attacked it.

Their shield only lasted for a few mere seconds under the weight of several tonnes of dense muscle and rage before one Auror was lifted high into the air, caught in the snarling jaws of one head.

Only his enchanted robes held back the crushing jaws that sought to end his life. Albus did not even think as he sent a piercing curse of his own into the beast's eyes, causing the Auror to fall a dozen feet to land dazed and winded on the cold stones of the chamber floor. A blast of kinetic force from his hand sent the Auror tumbling across the floor and out of the way of the trampling claws of the Cerberus as he joined the fray in earnest now.

He had to hope that Hagrid would be able to forgive him, but the beast was now fully out of control and he could not afford to risk any more lives trying to subdue it.

He sent a powerful transfiguration spell at the floor of the chamber that caused thick spikes of diamond-hard stone to rocket upwards that pierced the beast's belly.

With another agonised howl the three-headed dog reared back, and he watched as Amerytha gathered energies between her hands in a powerful weave that shot forward with a whine as a spinning disc of pure Arcane energy tore through the Cerberus. A spray of blood and gore fountained outwards as the spinning blade of energy continued onwards, only to reverse in midair and carve its way back through the Cerberus, neatly severing one of the beast's heads from its body.

The gigantic creature gave one last pitiful howl before it collapsed, lifeless and still.

A sense of relief flooded through every member of their party, but they did not have long to enjoy it as rich laughter rang out from the back of the room.

"I must say, I am impressed. I had thought the beast would have lasted longer." Crimson flames searched them, before settling upon Amerytha.

"I should know by now not to underestimate a Blackwood." Those flames dipped ever so slightly as the Shade bowed his head towards the woman. "I offer my condolences, My Lady. Your Son had piqued my interest, it is a shame he is now unable to accept my offer to join my servants."

Amerytha said nothing as her face seemed to twist with pain, she quickly threw her hands forwards unleashing a torrent of small balls of pure force that tore through the shadow without effect. The Wall behind the Shade of Lord Voldemort was pummeled by the power behind the Weaves, as small explosions of stone sent razor-sharp shards of stone in every direction.

The Aurors were quick to add their own spells to the volley, but nothing seemed to have any effect on the living shadow.

Albus, remembering Robards calling for Patroni in their last conflict, flicked his wand conjuring a spectral phoenix that burst forth with a brilliant luminance that caused a hiss of pain from the Shade.

But that was nothing compared to the lance of pure white searing light that shot from Denevan's outstretched hand.

His former teacher's face was a mask of pure unadulterated fury, and he could hear an audible growl coming from the man as Voldemort screamed. It raised the hairs on the back of his arms as the inhuman sound echoed about the room, falling over them again and again until his head was pounding from the sound of it.

Desperate to escape, the Shade of Lord Voldemort flung out his own hand, a powerful blasting curse flying toward them.

Albus quickly jabbed his wand forward, the pulsating orange spell halting in its flight as he threw his own Magic in direct contention with that of Voldemort. The orange hue of the blasting curse took on a darker and more sinister light as the conflicting Magics began to create fluctuations within the spell. Another lance of blinding light from Denevan, and he quickly gained control of the spell and he forced it back in the direction it had originated from.

While it had no effect against the Shade the wall behind Voldemort was blown outwards in an explosion of stone and chaotic Magic.

Scarlet fires turned to glare hatefully at them all before the Shade fled into the night with a hiss that sounded more serpent than man. The only sign of the Shade was its inky body blotting out the stars in its passing.

Albus watched as Amerytha and Denevan shared a brief look. Before the last remaining Blackwoods ran towards the hole in the wall and hurled themselves after the Shade of Lord Voldemort.

He could only stare in awe as the two of them enacted powerful yet surprisingly simple weaves to keep themselves aloft as they glided after the retreating Dark Lord.