Harry Potter and the King of the Amazons
Chapter 34
-Dumbledore-
Frowning, Dumbledore tucked his new wand into his left sleeve, his first wand tucked away in the right one. On the desk lay the Elder Wand, as dead and lifeless as it had been when he woke up the day before. Before the wand was rolling with power, no matter how many spells he had cast, he never felt drained with that wand. Now it was a useless lump of dead wood, not even a hint of residual magic lingering in it. Rolling out a roll of leather, he pulled out a silver knife and a pair of tongs. Carefully, he made a slit down the wood, using the tongs to spread it open to check the core and runes inside it. The second the wood opened, a burst of dust and ash burst forth, covering his face as Dumbledore began coughing and gagging.
"Aug-GACK-Aguamenti!" he brought out one of his wands and washed the ash away from his face. Wiping away the water from his eyes, he looked back at the wand on his desk and the ash coating the surface. "Lumos." Inside the wood, he saw that the series of runes that powered the elder wand had burnt out, their surfaces warped and scorched.
"Sweet Merlin." Albus breathed out in horror as he took in the damage. Several times since acquiring the Hallow he had opened the wand to study the runes and the core. The runes were in a language he had never managed to decipher or find other traces of, likely a language crafted by or only known to Death when the wand was made. The core, something he had found was similar to Thestral Hair, once always silky and smooth, had turned brittle and chunky, parts dissolved into ash.
"What in the name of the Founders happened?!" he gaped at the total destruction of the most powerful magical focus in the world. Pulling out a vial, he began using his silver tools to scrape as much of the ash and dust as he could into the glass, needing to test it. The remaining solid pieces of core went into a second vial and the dead brittle wood a third.
"If only Nicholas was still alive." He sighed, planning to set up an alchemical lab. "But I know one thing. This has to be the work of Voldemort. An attack to weaken the power of the Light, his power.
-Peter-
Sweating in concentration, Wormtail slowly added the next ingredient to the mixture. His master had been fed, as had Nagini, so he had the time to work on the potion for his plan. Flipping through his notes, still well preserved even in the years since he left Hogwarts, Wormtail stirred the potion three times clockwise.
Around him were pages upon pages of notes. He had never had the werewolf regenerative abilities of Remus Lupin to keep going for hours.
He didn't have James Potter's raw magical power.
He didn't have Sirius Black's amazing magical control.
Peter Pettigrew had been and always would be a sneaky little bastard. Great mages kept notes, all of them did. Notes on theories they found, their interpretations, discoveries, unique spells. He had a quick hand and knew his limitations. He would sneak into dorms, offices, trunks, bags, everything he could. He found their notes and journals and copied what lay within, putting it back without anyone knowing he had done so. He had accumulated spells and recipes and knowledge for years, always making sure to look like he was a hanger on to the rest of the Marauders. He planted ideas and encouraged their brilliance to create more for him to copy.
This was what let him join his Master. He had stolen everything he could from the witches and wizards of the light, but he could never get to notes of those like Albus Dumbledore or Nicholas Flamell. So he turned to Lord Voldemort, the prophecy on the Potters giving him the perfect opening to join their ranks. Dumbledore thought Snape spied for him and let slip to the Dark Lord who the secret keeper was. Easiest manipulation he had ever had to do. To make things even easier, becoming an animagus protected him from the Dark Lord's legilimency. An animal's mind worked differently than a human's, a fact that the lords of Light and Dark wouldn't widely known if they wanted to keep having minds easy to read.
"And finally," he muttered to himself, "powdered snake fang mixed with its own venom." Pouring the final ingredient into his cauldron, he saw the potion turn a dark royal purple, bubbling as it began swirling on its own. Charcoal grey steam rose up from the surface, swirling in lazy clockwork spirals. Capping the cauldron, Wormtail made sure the tubing would collect the swirls and evaporated potion, leading it through tubing to a small perfume bottle off to the side.
On the opposite side of the room, he had a much larger cauldron brewing a strong antidote for the poison perfume he was making, a shimmering veil of magic keeping all the poison fumes contained. Stepping through the veil and out of the dangerous space, Wormtail let out a gasp, letting his bubble head charm fail. Double checking his notes, he guessed that it would take roughly eighteen hours to get enough liquid in the perfume bottle to make a passable attempt and forty-eight to get enough for him to feel comfortably secure. A flick of his wand later and his notes were all packed away in an oaken box. Pocketing it, he slipped away and out of the old Riddle house.
Twisting with a crack, he found himself outside of Godric's Hollow. A blink and he was once more a brown rat, scampering and scurrying between the trees and buildings. Passing by the hoes of Bathilda Bagshot, Peter saw the old Potter cottage in the distance. Slipping through the bars, he entered the ruined building. The Potter cottage had an old storm cellar, something that James and Lily had filled up for structural issues. Luckily, a tunnel small enough for a rat wouldn't collapse anything and was easy enough to hide. Squirming through it, Wormtail entered a small pocket he had carefully carved out, just big enough for him to shift back and hide the box of shrunken notes away in before shifting and crawling back out. So much to do, so little time.
-Harry-
Gritting his teeth, Harry drained the last dregs of magic from another cursed relic from the Gringotts' vault. Behind him, dozens of drained items were piled up as he finished. Panting, Harry flexed his fingers, the raw power pulsing through his veins almost intoxicating. It was only years of duty and training that helped him keep a level head. His power was several times what it had been before by absorbing the power from 'the Ideal' and the relics.
"Amazing." Ragnok breathed out in awe, "You were always strong before my friend but this? I've never even heard of someone with the power levels you show now."
"With great power comes limited control." Harry muttered as purple arcane flames danced along his finger tips "A Sniper is dangerous in their accuracy but slow to fire and can only kill one by one. Hiroshima was wild and uncontrollable, killing thousands upon thousands. I have sacrificed control for raw power."
"But…you can get your power back." Ragnok pointed out, looking torn between nervousness and awe at the thought, "The power you show with the control of a master?"
"And lo I become the bring of Death, Destroyer of Worlds."
"Lord Ragnok!" a new voice shouted as Harry and the goblin chief turned to see a guard running in, an Amazon keeping pace easily, "King Hadrian, we have urgent news."
"Report." Harry and Ragnok ordered in tandem, their faces stone masks of seriousness.
"There was an attack in the Village of Hogsmede." The Goblin guard belted out, "Fenrir Greyback and what look like most of the fighting men from his pack portkeyed into the village as one to initiate it."
"A mass attack by those savages?!" Ragnok spat out, "Casualties?"
"Not a mass attack, a targeted one." Harry's amazon grit out, "A targeted one. Thankfully, the only casualties were against the Greyback Pack itself, although one Albus Dumbledore did try to intervene to save the lives of those condemned to death by our laws."
"Who was the target?" Ragnok frowned even as the bottom fell out of Harry's stomach.
"Queen Propheta." The Amazon answered before leaping back, the Goblins all scrambling away as raw power enveloped Harry's body, his furious yell echoing out through the halls of Gringotts, louder than any dragon. Someone had tried to harm his wife?! They would pay!
"And Dumbledore tried to spare them?" he snarled, magic dripping from his flesh like magma as the ground cracked around him. When his guard nodded, all observers in the room blinked in shock as his maelstrom of arcane fire vanished.
"He has overstepped his bounds for the last time." Harry grit his teeth, forcing himself to remain focused. He didn't need to be calm, his anger was a weapon, but his focus was its edge, "No more."