King of the Amazons
Chapter 31
-Harry-
"Ah Harry," Ragnok grinned, pouring them both a drink when he entered the goblin's office "I read about your showing in the first task, quite impressive. Before we get down to business I wanted to know if you would consider devoting researchers to help us create a premade version of the Draconifors spell. Being able to turn rocks in the tunnels into dragons at a moment's notice would be an effective and useful security measure."
"I'll send in the order to my researchers." He promised, recognizing the truth of Ragnok's statement and knowing it would benefit his island and Hogwarts as well, not just Gringotts, "I'll have them share progress with your own enchanters and curse breakers."
"Excellent." Ragnok grinned, likely picturing a thief trying to break into a vault only to get attacked by a horde of dragons, "Now, onto the proper reason I called you in. We have good news, bad news, and worrisome news. Good news, we managed to acquire another one of Voldemort's Horcruxes." Reaching into his desk, Ragnok pulled out a heavily warded box, opening it to reveal a golden ring with a black stone.
"Then I'll destroy it." Harry nodded, drawing his blade only for Ragnok to hold up a hand.
"Hold, my friend." Ragnok looked serious "We also detected another magic from the stone on the ring. It would seem that Voldemort tried using something ancient and powerful to make his Horcrux. We can detect the soul within the band but the stone…that has something else. It feels Necromantic."
"Have you tried separating the stone from the banding?" he asked, knowing necromancy was often dangerous and uncontrollable, magic relating to life and death being the closest to having its own sentience.
"We tried, but whenever we attempted to do so it repelled our efforts." Ragnok frowned, demonstrating by having a guard slam his axe onto the ring binding with a yell, the axe shattering into shards despite being Goblin forged. "We event tried to have one of our curse breakers separate the stone with magic, but the reaction was violent. He barely survived and is being treated still. Have you ever heard of anything like this?"
"No, I haven't." Harry frowned before looking at Ragnok "Is it safe to pick up."
"It is now. It originally had a curse on it that would make your body whither and die at a rapid rate, but we have since removed that security. It seems passive enough, but some have noticed a passive compulsion on the stone itself."
Nodding, Harry picked up the ring and held it in the palm of his hand. He felt it before it happened, eyes widening as a mark on the stone's surface began to crackle and glow with a bright light before his vision burst into a field of white.
A void. That's what Harry found himself in, an endless white void as he spun about, finding himself in a location that seemed purely white. As he looked around, he saw the location morph and change to become a pale white version of his home, noting as he did so that he was naked and bare where he stood.
"At last." Looking around, Harry saw the white smoke swirling on the ground, forming a rough caricature of a human, "It has been so long since anyone found the relics."
"Who are you?" he demanded, focusing on the potential threat and ignoring his own nudity.
"I am the Ideal." The voice whispered, the smoky caricature circling him, eyeing him up and down, "I am what humanity strives for. I am perfection."
"You are talkative." He snapped, annoyed by the being's attitude.
"Well it has been centuries since I had someone to talk to." Ideal chuckled darkly, the smoky hand waving airily, "I feel I should at least talk with you before I take that body. It is certainly a better one than my last one."
"Over my dead body." He snarled, striking at the smoke hand that reached out, his stroke hitting something solid, the smoke dissipating to show a skeletal appendage, ropes of muscle and tendons slowly starting to grow and connect to the bones.
"No, not over your dead body." the Ideal chuckled, the bone hand latching onto his wrist "Within your living one." He could feel his life energy get drained through the grip, reeling back as the weak bones let it slide past. "It has been so long since I could live." the Ideal hissed, more of the smoke departing to reveal a skeletal figure, organs and muscle slowly growing within the bones.
"Well you won't get to live today." He hissed, reflexively reaching for a blade his mind taunted him in reminder that it wasn't there.
"They all say that." the Ideal took a shambling step toward him "And they always will. But they are gone, and I remain. I am perfection." An eye slowly began to bubble and grow in one of the sockets of the skull, the iris an emerald green to match Harry's own. "Oh, what's this?" the Ideal tilted its head and gave a depraved grin, "You already have several wenches in your bed. Oh, I will be enjoying this." Blood pounding, Harry backhanded the skull, a few teeth falling out only for more of his energy to seep away into the Ideal, organs and muscle growing with renewed speed for a split moment until his skin left the bones.
"Now that wasn't nice." the Ideal cackled, calmly walking over to the teeth and pushing them back into its jaw.
"Neither are you." Harry frowned, brain racing as he tried to figure out something he could do to stop this thing before him.
"Well soon I'll be you, so it won't matter." the Ideal shrugged, bones clattering and forming organs bouncing at the action. Looking around for anything of use, Harry pictured the walls of his home and the weapons that were meant to hang on the wall. As he did so, the walls gained some color, swords, axes, and spears appearing there as they existed in reality.
"This is my mind." Harry scowled, displeased at being held a prisoner in his own consciousness.
"It was your mind." The Ideal snorted, idly looking at its own fingers as flesh began to grow over formed muscle on there, other parts still exposed bone. Grabbing a spear, Harry threw it towards the Ideal who reacted with a modicum of speed, sparing its body only for the newly fully formed hand to get impaled by the palm to the wall.
"Alright, now I'm annoyed." The Ideal snarled, grabbing the spear and ripping it from the flesh of its hand, the generation of organ and tissue pausing to repair the wound. "I do my best to make this quick and easy for you worms." Ideal began to stalk towards Harry, gripping the spear that dripped blood. "All you had to do was sit back and I would make it painless. But no, you choose to fi-" the Ideal's monologue was cut off by a block of stone falling upon it.
"This is my mind." Harry spat, even as the Ideal shoved the block off its repairing body "Here, I am a god." Forming his blade, Harry charged, slashing at the Ideal who shakily blocked with the haft of the spear, cursing and stumbling back when Harry's blade cut through the weapon's wooden haft.
"You are nothing!" the Ideal screamed, charging towards Harry, grabbing onto his skin as the organs and tissue began to grow on its body faster, the eyes growing milky as he heard the Ideal mutter to itself under its breath, mentioning things Harry had seen or done.
"To history I very well may be nothing." Harry focused, thinking of his wives and his children, his friends and his people "But to my people I am their king. I have a duty to them and I refuse to fail them." This was his mind, his entire being. Taking in a deep breath even as the Ideal grew more flesh and saw more memories, Harry drew upon his magic.
The Patronus, formed from positive memories and love. It protected one from dementors and lethifolds, providing feelings of warmth and safety.
Fiendfyre, formed from anger and hatred. It created an unstoppable blaze that burned all which you lay in your path.
He smiled at the happy memories that flashed before his eyes, the care he felt for the family he had made for himself.
His fist clenched in anger at the thought of the thing that wanted to steal his body and soul, to corrupt that which Harry had built for himself.
He felt the love for his wives and children, for his people and his friends. For the home and their allies.
He felt the hatred for the abomination before him, the creature he could feel was a profane caricature of the soul.
Silvery white flames danced along his blade, fiendfyre enhanced and channeled through a patronus. "I may be nothing to history." Harry repeated as he calmly pushed the blade into the Ideal's chest, the body going still, gasping at the burning blade sliding through the forming flesh "But you? You are nothing to me." Gasping and writhing, the Ideal clawed at the blade, slicing its own fingers off as it tried to pull the burning metal from its breast. "Now BURN!" Harry yelled, the flames roaring high at his command.
"No!" the Ideal screamed as it burned away upon his sword, "I am Ideal! I am perfection! I am-"
"Ash." Harry finished as the body crumbled around his blade, the mindscape falling apart around him as he collapsed to his knees in Ragnok's office, the encounter in his mind having taken a split second but the exhaustion remained. Looking down at the innocent band and stone, Harry scowled, clenching his fist as he summoned a burst of true fiendfyre within his palm, turning both to ash with ease. Ending the spell, Harry opened his fist to see a familiar mark upon his skin.
AN: Not gonna lie, the idea for the Ideal came about while I was in the middle of writing this chapter, but I decided I like it and I'm putting it in. Next chapter you'll get more information about what exactly the Ideal was, its history, and what it was trying to do.