Chapter V
'Finite Incantatem. Finite Incantatem. FINITE INCANTATEM!'
If Daphne had the ability to move, she might have cried in frustration. How pathetic was she that she couldn't manage the general Dispelling Charm? Harry had offered to help her with charms, but she'd been dazzled by the flashiness of his Transfiguration Blitz instead.
She could hear the sounds of battle outside, screams of pain and shouts of anger, explosions and impacts. What was happening? Was Harry all right? Why hadn't he come for her? Surely he couldn't still be fighting with that hooded wizard; there wasn't anyone in the world that could stand up to Harry one-on-one!
Regardless, there was no way she was going to lie here like some damsel in distress when he was outside fighting. She'd been able to cast this spell since the end of her First Year, for Merlin's sake! She could do this!
Focusing on her magic, Daphne calmed her frustration and worries. Regrets were worthless; after all, if she still had her wand, she'd have no hope of breaking this curse. Ignoring the pain of her injuries, she readied herself, pushing her energy against the magic binding her.
'Finite Incantatem'
The petrification effect vanished, and she groaned as she attempted to pull herself up from amidst the rubble. Harry really needed to work on minimizing his collateral damage, she grumbled to herself. Her ankle was clearly broken from when he'd collapsed the roof. Dragging herself to her hands and knees, she crawled her way towards the open doors of the church.
Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw upon emerging. An enormous pile of corpses lay along Mikebuda's main street. There were several dozen charred bodies close by, but the majority of the dead were collected in a rough circle further east.
Her eyes found Harry on the opposite side of town, nearly outside the village limits, engaged in what looked like a staring contest with some kind of transparent creature. She hardly had time to take stock of what was going on before it erupted in a detonation of pale crimson light. Daphne's heart started beating faster in her chest, the frustration from before magnifying until she regained control of her emotions.
'What was that?' Whatever had happened, Harry was still on his feet. He'd lost his glasses somewhere along the way, the remains of his ripped and torn silver robes stained with blood, cuts and bruises everywhere on his swollen face.
Before her eyes, though, a crackle of crimson energy ran over his body, rippling along his immobile form. A snarl twisted his features, and a golden light shone in his eyes as he turned away from her to regard the unknown wizard from before. His aura exploded into being, more powerful than she'd ever seen, but now it was an ugly yellow rather than its normal color.
Daphne's jaw dropped as Harry was propelled forward as though shot out of a cannon, the sheer amount of magic radiating off of him ripping up the street and damaging the crumbling buildings around them as he passed by.
The stranger's wand snapped up, and she cried out in fear at the sound of the Killing Curse's incantation. Her worry was unwarranted, as Harry - still in mid-air - twisted in a corkscrew fashion, the Unforgivable missing him by inches. A second later, he collided with the man, one hand wrapping around his throat, not losing an iota of momentum as Harry thrust him through a building and out of her sight. A second later, the man burst through the ruptured building he'd just been thrust into, flying backward and landing heavily on his back in the center of the street.
The building gave way, enduring too much damage to remain standing, collapsing amid a dust cloud that settled over the village. Daphne coughed, choking on the detritus; a strong gust of wind, though, scattered the dust as Harry emerged from the ruins, his aura still pulsing as he approached his fallen opponent.
A Bludgeoning Hex impacted him, then two Piercing Curses, garnering zero reaction from Harry, who by now was within arm's reach of the panicked wizard.
"Avada Keda-" the man's attempt at a second Killing Curse cut off as Harry's thumbs jammed into his eye sockets, eliciting a horrible scream. Releasing his head, Harry reached out with one hand, squeezing the shaft of his wand and snapping it in two.
The now-blind stranger reached into his robes, removing a feathered quill of all things, adjusting it between his fingers as though he were going to break it in half. He never had the chance as a thin line of golden energy lanced out, severing his arm just below the shoulder, the quill still grasped in his detached fingers.
Harry ignored the kicks directed at him, straddling the man and striking him with his fists like some sort of mad muggle, beating him until his face was entirely unrecognizable and misshapen.
"Harry! Stop!" she shouted, uncomfortable at the rage-fueled brutality she saw.
Pausing with one fist still cocked, his hand clearly broken, Harry's head turned at an unnatural angle, locking onto where she was crouched in the doorway of the demolished church. Standing up, he walked towards her, no sign of recognition in his glowing golden eyes, the pavement splintering from his magical output with every step he took. His aura, despite ravaging their surroundings, passed over her without any effect.
It was still his magic, despite the corrupting rage; she felt her own magic respond, welcoming the energy radiating off of Harry in waves as though it were her own. He wasn't going to hurt her; she wasn't sure he could hurt her.
Daphne pulled herself to her feet, leaning heavily against the doorframe, taking note for the first time of the way that blood was flowing not just from his nose, but out of Harry's ears as well. "Are- are you okay? Harry?"
There was a sudden flurry of movement. A flash of fire behind him and the familiar melody of a phoenix song accompanied Dumbledore's arrival in the village. At the same time, the dying man in black robes blindly grasped his severed arm, pulling out the quill and breaking it in half, activating the portkey and vanishing from sight.
She saw the look on Dumbledore's face, taking in the hundreds of dead muggles, the puddle of blood where the injured wizard had disappeared, and her own clearly wounded appearance. A look of fear and concern settled over the elderly man's features, and he raised his wand.
"No! Stop, don't do it!" she screamed, but a jet of red light from Dumbledore's Stupefying Charm had already shot out. Daphne pushed off with her good leg, darting past Harry, the spell striking her directly in the chest. She fell to the ground, unconsciousness claiming her.
'What, in the name of the gods, happened here?' Dumbledore thought anxiously, terrified at the sheer number of dead. Harry looked to be totally out of control, despite immediately reaching out to cradle Daphne's unconscious body and lower it gently to the ground.
He'd feared that Harry was going to hurt the girl when he'd arrived, as he could easily feel the sheer malevolence radiating off the young man's pulsing aura. While he was pleased to be proven incorrect, judging by the care that he showed her fallen form, unfortunately, his instinctive reaction had drawn Harry's attention.
Dumbledore eyed him closely as Harry stalked forward. There were a litany of injuries covering him, but he zeroed in on the blood flowing steadily from his ears and nose. He'd seen this once before-
Tendrils of golden flame erupted from Harry's aura, seeking him out. Dumbledore calmly responded, meeting each tendril with a jet of water, eyebrows raising as they barreled through the liquid without weakening at all. He apparated, reappearing a block away. The golden flames turned and pursued him, almost as though they were-
'No, it couldn't be!' he realized. Was Harry's aura producing demonic flame? "Ignis infernum!" he called, the familiar roar of fiendfyre screaming out as it emerged from the Elder Wand, colliding with Harry's golden flame, a battle between the sentient flames taking place among the village ruins.
"Harry!" he yelled, hoping for a sign of recognition in the boy's glowing eyes, "Stop this! We are not enemies!" Jagged chunks of ice, as black as night formed out of thin air in a circle around Dumbledore, flashing forward to impale him. Fawkes appeared above him, a glowing ball of flame spreading from the phoenix's wings, melting the tainted conjurations.
The memory finally came to him, realization dawning as he watched droplets of blood begin to stream out of Harry's golden eyes. It was in Susan Bones' memories of their First Year; Harry's magical exhaustion! If he wasn't able to subdue him soon, Harry would die; the immense pull on his magic destroying him from the inside out, like a candle burning at both ends.
A trio of stunners struck Harry, colliding with his aura and dissipating entirely. Head cocked like a puppet on the string, Harry raised his arm, a series of iron bands wrapped around his wrist warping, flowing outward and growing, transfiguring into a massive clawed hand that sought out Dumbledore.
"Immobilus!" His charm struck the iron construct, its form halting its forward movement, but still twitching, straining against Dumbledore's magic. Harry was immensely powerful, but in this state, he was far from cunning, reduced to nothing more than anger and fury. Dumbledore was confident he'd be able to blunt any attack, but the question of how to incapacitate-
Letting out a scream of rage, Harry's aura intensified, spiraling into a column of foul yellow energy stretching miles into the heavens. The earth shook, and all around him, destroyed and collapsed buildings began to rise into the air, foundations creaking and groaning as they were torn out of the ground. Hundreds of tons of material rose into the sky, hovering thousands of feet above the devastated village, holding steady for a moment before pitching downwards directly at Dumbledore, colliding with each other and forming a deadly rain of debris.
There was no blocking an attack of that magnitude. Dumbledore apparated a hundred feet behind Harry, his jaw dropping as the torrent of rubble collapsed into the ground with a thunderclap. He couldn't conceive of the strain that such an attack must have put on the young man. He wouldn't last much longer at this rate.
"I'm sorry, my dear boy. Forgive me." A silent aguamenti sent a rush of water at Harry, harmlessly drenching him and what remained of his robes. "FULMEN!"
A lightning bolt, thick as a tree trunk, flashed out of the Elder Wand and struck Harry, the electric current arcing through his body and actually lifting him off the ground before he collapsed in a heap, the golden light gone from his eyes. His aura cut out, and Dumbledore quickly extinguished his own fiendfyre, apparating to Harry's side, lifting him up onto his shoulder.
"Rennervate."
"Dumbledore!" Daphne shouted out the moment her eyes opened. "Don't- oh gods, what happened to him?"
"We have much to discuss, but for now Harry needs immediate medical attention. We have to go, right now!"
She pulled herself to her feet, tears of pain wetting her cheeks as she hobbled to his side, Fawkes appearing a moment later and taking them away in a ball of flame.
Luna skipped through the forest, setting down the haul of books that she had, er, borrowed from a library thirty miles away. It had taken her and her new friends a full day to get there and back, and she was eager to see what the rest of them had been up to while she was gone.
"I don't think it was that unreasonable to expect that a library would have books on who we've brought over. I mean, muggles know about dragons, leprechauns, and merfolk, after all!"
'From what you've told me, a summoner has not lived on this plane in more than a millennium.'
"I suppose you're right. Oh, my! Look! They've accomplished so much!"
'They crossed the planar boundaries at your command; they exist here only to serve you.'
"I see," Luna said thoughtfully, "Well, once our home is rebuilt, I'll ask them what they'd like to do! Each one of us can have a day where we select the activity. It'll be a good way to get to know each other!"
'If that is what you wish, master.'
"It is! And- hmm, what is this material here?" Luna reached out, touching the thin, almost transparent material that made up the walls. "Is it leather?"
'Of a sssssort,' came the reply from one of her newer friends.
"And where'd you get these white rods? The ones you've got here as struts," she asked, running her hands over the hard, smooth items. Some were curved, others were straight, some even rounded.
'You asked them to acquire building materials, so one of the summoned followed us to town,' Sunny replied.
"Oh, okay!" It wasn't that large, only the size of her old room, but it was remarkable progress nonetheless. If they kept this rate up, she'd have the entire Lodge reconstructed within a week! "All right everyone, gather 'round! Who's hungry? I brought back some sweets!"
"You know, it's my friend Harry's birthday today. He used to live here; maybe he will again when he comes back!" She pulled out a half smashed box of chocolate bars. "Drat! They got all smushed. Still, they taste good! Here!"
A tentacle slid up her arm, delicately grasping the proffered candy. "Just one for you, Legs! Save some for Blinky!" She put a finger on her chin, regarding her newest friend. "Then again, he doesn't exactly have a mouth. Fine, take two!"
It was so nice having a family again.
Daphne waited patiently while Dumbledore conferred with the healer in Hungarian. Casting his own diagnostic charms, he shook the healer's hand, passing over a heavy bag of gold. The healer tucked away the payment, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.
"Well?"
"It will likely be several days before he awakens, possibly a week, but he is safe to transport."
"Okay," she said slowly, "What about when he does wake up? Will he-, I mean, is he going to be back to normal?"
Dumbledore nodded. "I think it is rather unlikely that the demonic influence will persist for so long. You need not worry."
"Unlikely, but not impossible?"
"There are few certainties in life, Miss Greengrass. Nonetheless, we have to leave."
Daphne certainly agreed with that sentiment, gingerly rising on her tender ankle. She'd been a basket of anxiety since they'd arrived in Budapest, sure that at any moment, aurors would come storming through the door to attack them. "Where are we going to go?"
"I've made arrangements at an inn north of here, across the border in Slovakia. You and Harry will remain there."
"Where are you going to be? And we'll be able to leave the country, just like that? I thought that international travel required ministerial approval? What about Albion magics?"
"That is just what we call it in Britain; more generally it is referred to as areal magics, utilizing the energy of ley lines to establish and control national boundaries. Technically, we are only crossing a muggle border; the Austro-Hungarian Ministry still maintains sovereignty over the region."
"Then we're still going to be at risk!"
"Some, yes, but national loyalty is no more uniform among wizards and witches. I must see to the last of the Sibittu; once I return, we can discuss what we are to do next."
"This whole trip hasn't exactly gone to plan, has it?"
Dumbledore ran a hand through his beard, exhaustion evident on his face. "Indeed it has not. Frankly, I am at a loss as to what to do, following this latest disaster."
She met his eyes, her stance challenging. "I'm going to tell him everything when he wakes up."
"I think that would be for the best. Now, step closer, if you will. Fawkes!"
August 8, 1996
"Ah! So glad that you could join us. Please, take a seat."
Susan sat down, silently staring down at the table. "Lord Nott assures me that the meal will be excellent."
Octavius, leering at her from across the table, nodded at Riddle's words. "Indeed, Sara prepared it herself. She will not disappoint, milord."
Susan glanced towards the head of the table at Nott's term of address. "No need for such formality, we're all friends here. Susan, how do you feel today?"
"Fine."
"Yes? And your time here over the last month? Is there anything you need to make your stay more comfortable?"
She refused to meet his eyes, just as she had since the first day she arrived. "No."
Tom regarded her thoughtfully as Lady Nott brought the meal in. He'd mulled over what to do with the young woman he'd unexpectedly imprisoned for weeks now, and was still conflicted over how to deal with her. In truth, he was terrified over the memory he'd observed when invading her mind; terrified of Harry Potter. His other self had been monumentally stronger than he himself was, with nearly fifty additional years of rituals, training, and magical knowledge at his fingertips, and yet Potter had stood toe to toe against him, ultimately prevailing with the use of magic Tom had never conceived to be possible.
Tom had no doubts about his own strength; after all, if Potter was his prophesied equal, then he must therefore be just as strong. But he lacked experience and knowledge; two things which a sixteen-year-old had somehow acquired a great deal of. Tom was in no way prepared to fight on the cataclysmic scale that Potter operated on, not yet at least.
And of course, all of that assumed that the prophecy had not already been fulfilled following Potter's victory in Wales. There were just so many unknowns!
The Bones girl and the child she carried were his only leverage over Potter. How he dealt with her would largely determine the sequence of events once the boy returned to Britain - something that Riddle had absolutely no doubt would happen. The very idea that the ICW could succeed where his other self had failed was preposterous; no, Potter would be back, eventually. But how would he view Riddle once he did?
The girl had no knowledge of his alter-ego; given all of the secrets that Potter had shared with her, it was therefore likely that Harry himself was ignorant of his true identity. Could he use Bones to cajole the boy into serving him? Even tacit support would be more than enough to secure his reign; if he could keep Potter 'off the pitch' as it were, there would be almost no impediment to his ultimate victory.
Conversely, if Potter acted against him, what could possibly make for a better extortion than having control of his child? What greater desire would an orphan have than to safeguard his own blood?
That, though, required him keeping the girl prisoner for the foreseeable future, a task made difficult by the lack of reliable servants in his employ. Additionally, should anything happen to her or the baby, Potter would undoubtedly move heaven and earth to end his existence.
Riddle cursed his indecisiveness but accepted that - for now - he still had time to choose a path forward. He could only hope that when he was forced into a choice, that he would make the correct one. Until then, he'd need to keep Bones secure and, at least relatively, complacent.
"Would you care for some tea, dear?"
Tutela Silenda had not changed since he'd last visited. While each of the Nine Shadows resided at the ICW capital in a technical sense, the majority of them were deployed on assignment. It had been years since they all gathered together - physically, that is.
Senio took in the sights and sounds as he descended into the depths of the city. He'd been in France, engaged in negotiations with their Minister about deploying more aurors to quell the resistance that had popped up when he received a summons from Unus.
Because of the nature of the Umbra, they had no formal headquarters. Instead, he tapped a tiny rune at ankle height, on a nondescript section of wall in the sub-basement level, pausing for a hidden entrance to swing open, revealing another set of stairs.
He walked into the hidden laboratory, finding it devoid of anyone besides the other Shadows. One of their number was rather noticeably lying on a table, missing an arm and bearing a number of injuries.
"You're late."
"I couldn't very well request a meeting with the French to ask that they allow me the use of their aurors, and then walk out an hour after our meeting began," he said in an unapologetic tone. "Is that Novem?"
"It is. He caught up with Potter in Hungary. He managed to escape and lived long enough to provide Octava with the memory of his encounter. Now that you're here, shall we take a look?"
Everyone stepped closer, and Octava uncorked a vial, dumping the filmy vapor of Novem's memory into the basin of a large pensieve. Each of them dipped a finger into the bowl, watching Potter fight the Immeasurable Depth, then Novem. He saw Tris murmuring to Septum when the Frenzy appeared and he began to massacre the village, then annihilated Novem with ease.
The memory ended, and Tuor filled the silence immediately. "We cannot let this stand! Outrageous!"
"Settle down-"
"One of our own, dead at the hands of a teenager! Allow me to pursue him, I'll end his wretched existence!"
Senio exchanged an amused glance with Septum; Tuor, being the newest of their ranks, had not been present for the loss of one of the Nine before. Unus seemed to share their sentiment, his response sharp and to the point. "Be quiet. The Umbra uphold a sacred duty; to be counted among the Nine is to put the mission above ourselves. How do you think you gained your place among us, Tuor?"
"But-"
"Control yourself." Turning to their resident researcher, he asked in a calm tone, "What did you make of Potter's magic being charged by the demon?"
She waved her hand as though it were an inconsequential matter. "It has certainly passed; I don't believe you'll need to worry about such an event occurring again."
"How do you know?" Senio asked, curious at her certainty. "If he can harness the power of these monsters, he has become even more formidable."
She huffed, as though offended at having to explain herself. "Use your brain. Potter was slaughtering indiscriminately; he'd completely lost control of himself and his magic. If he were still under its influence, he'd be killing his way through Central Europe. We've seen no sign of him since Novem's death, therefore, he has purged himself of the demonic effect."
"What about Dumbledore?" This came from Quinctus.
"What about him?"
"Well, we managed to isolate Potter for Novem to make his move. How will we do so again? Surely they've rendezvoused since."
In an even tone, Unus replied, "We'll simply deal with him as well, then."
There was a moment of quiet at that statement, then Octava asked, "What excuse did the Austrians provide the muggles?"
"An earthquake in Mikebuda; gas leaks for the deaths resulting from the first demon," Tris, assigned to monitor the Wizard's Council replied. "Their Mugwump let slip that it required obliviating more than two hundred muggle officials."
"Two hundred?"
"Yes. The largest mass obliviation in a quarter-century."
Everyone pondered that, before Unus finally spoke again. "His brazenness is increasing. Senio, do you have anything in mind that might induce his return to Britain?"
"Not yet, no."
"Find something," came the demand. "Octava, how long until the Blockade can be put in place?"
"Well, if Senio can get me access to their areal magic, I-"
"What is the point of your research if you need permission from individual Ministries? I thought that your work was dedicated to providing us with the means to interact with ley lines from Tutela Silenda?"
"It is, but- it's just I've never tested it before. We don't know for sure that it will work is all I'm saying. And since we control the British Ministry, why take the chance?"
"Fine. Quinctus, Iugo, you two will accompany Octava to Britain and provide her escort while she raises the Blockade. Senio, you may resume your discussions with the French. Septum, rally the Austrians and ascertain if he is still in the country." They each nodded in understanding. "Tuor, I have a new assignment for you, as well. Return to Flamel; inform him that we will need his assistance once more. From there, you'll head to Romania."
Dumbledore was honestly at a loss. When he'd decided on this course of action and approached Harry, he'd never imagined everything could go so wrong. Realistically, the only way that this could have possibly gone worse would be if Harry or Daphne were to have lost their lives.
Instead, they'd just about completed their ostensible objective of banishing the Sibittu, and in doing so had made things far worse than they were, to begin with. Rather than win Harry a reprieve from the Confederation, he'd likely succeeded only at adding Daphne's and his own name to their list.
Harry remained as unpredictable and volatile as ever. His conversations with Daphne over what occurred in Mikebuda, as well as his obviously warped aura, at least reassured him that his companion had not intentionally slaughtered hundreds of people. The entire episode, however, was perfectly emblematic of just about every decision he'd made regarding the last remaining Potter.
Dumbledore had placed him with the Dursleys for safekeeping, only for the boy to endure terrible abuse. Upon learning of the abuse, he sought to hide the truth of Harry's home life in the name of combating anti-muggle bigotry, only for it to come out at a singularly inopportune time, inflaming the very bigotry he'd sought to reduce. If he had, all those years ago, simply allowed Harry to be treated like any other orphan, would he be standing where he was today? Would Harry have to carry the weight of the trauma and violence he'd both endured and inflicted?
In the end, such thoughts served no purpose. Harry was who he was; the situation was the situation. All he could do was attempt to salvage some form of peace for a boy not even out of his teens, one that had brought down a Dark Lord not once, but twice; who'd seen - and dealt - more death and destruction in five years than most hardened warriors did in a lifetime. He would save Harry Potter, if it was the last thing he did.
For if he didn't, if he weren't able to pull Harry away from the only life he'd known to this point: one filled with rage, savagery, and ruthlessness, well… it wasn't worth considering. The consequences of Harry's choices to this point had been clearly displayed before them all.
Appearing at his destination, he strode purposefully through what remained of what was a lush forest, barely sparing a glance at the rotting vegetation and decaying animals. Its path was straight and unerring, perfect for what he had in mind. All he'd need was a few hours, and he'd be ready for their final opponent, the Rot of Decay.
He just hoped that Nicholas' plan would work.
A/N: This was a shorter chapter, but I wanted to get it out before 2021 (where I live, at least). With this out, I've now written 410,000 words since April 2020. Ho-ly mackerel.
Hope everyone has a safe and happy New Year. Personally, never been a fan – working in bars for so many years has made me really hate drinking holidays. So, since I'm spending my NYE grouchy and alone, take some pity and leave me a review, won't you?
Don't expect the next chapter out so quickly. WaR is – plot-wise – now in a 'holding pattern' for the main characters. The next few chapters will deal a lot more with side characters that we haven't seen much of to this point as the months pass by.
How long is Wrath and Remorse going to be? I can't say for sure. I'd originally thought somewhere in the ballpark of 150k, but we'll see. I can tell you that my outline stretches four years in the story-verse, and we're 5 chapters in and barely 6 weeks has passed. Ruh-roh!
Stay safe, healthy, and happy! Here's to a great 2021 for us all! ~Frickles
