AN: Nope, looks like I still don't own rights to either Harry Potter nor MTG.
CHAPTER 7 - Painful truths
"Ah, Miss Nalaar, what can I do for you this fine morning?" said Dumbledore as she entered his office the day following her lesson.
"Good morning headmaster, I was hoping we could have a small chat," replied Chandra using the carefully rehearsed phrase Jace had instructed her.
"That might be in order. I have here a report from Madam Pomfrey asking for more dreamless sleep potion. It seems your lesson was impressive in more than one way."
The man's tone might have been jovial, but there was a hint of reproach in his voice.
"Believe me when I say I could have shown them horrors so unspeakable that they'd be scarred for life. I know I am," she said slumping a bit "For what it counts, I'm sorry I caused so much pain and I promise no future lesson will be this bad."
"I see you're not enjoying the suffering you sowed, so this time I'll let it slide. Now, what is it that you wished to discuss?"
"Actually, it was my past as Rose Potter. I've heard a great many things, and many mentioned you in some capacity, so I thought to nip the thing in the bud."
"Ah, Hogwarts rumor mill is still incredible after so many years..." commented Dumbledore stroking his beard, apparently gathering his thoughts "Let's start at the beginning then. I'm sure you've heard of a dark wizard referred as You-Know-Who, or Voldemort, by now, right? He was terrorizing wizarding Britain in an attempt to overthrow the Ministry of Magic and take over. Dark times, especially so soon after the horrors of World War II and Grindelwald's reign of terror. You were born in such times, bringing joy at least to your family, despite their place high on Voldemort's hit list."
"Why would my family be of such importance?" interrupted Chandra, sensing a loose tread in the story.
"Voldemort rallied the blood purists under his flag, even if I believe it wasn't his personal creed. To satisfy them, he targeted those deemed of impure blood, especially those in high profile positions or that had been exceptional in school. Your mother, Lily Evans, was all three of those things: muggleborn, highly intelligent and skilled, and a spell researcher married to an auror captain, James Potter."
"I see, please continue," said Chandra even if she felt that the man wasn't being completely honest.
The headmaster nodded and started back where he had left off: "After your birth, you became a priority to your parents, so they left the fight and went into hiding. I used a powerful secrecy ward to hide them, but the secret was revealed to Voldemort and he attacked your family on Halloween night of thirteen years ago. He killed your parents, but when he turned his wand on you, the spell somehow bounced back, leaving you only a scar and killing him. You've been hailed as saviour of the wizarding world ever since with the moniker of Girl-Who-Lived."
"Wait," said Chandra raising a hand to stop him, a frown marring her face "That's it? How in the blazes does a powerful wizard like this Voldemort guy gets his spell reflected by an infant? I know a couple of spells to do it now, but thirteen years ago..."
It seemed that, despite the heavy topic, the man was enjoying the conversation a lot.
"That's a question that has plagued many experts for years and still does. I personally believe that your mother used her own sacrifice to cast a powerful ritualistic shield spell on you, but I admit it's only speculation on my part."
"Ok, let's say you're right. What about Voldemort? Just a spell and he's dead? Either it was something massive or he was actually pretty weak, no spell is that powerful."
"I'd have to dissent: the killing curse is infamous for doing just that. One hit and the target dies, with you being the only exception."
"A spell that kills instantly and with no drawbacks or conditions?" she asked a bit preoccupied.
She knew of such spells, the upper echelons of death magic, especially if molded with its opposite, life magic. It was rumored Sorin could use those, as could the exceedingly powerful Karn, Ugin and Nicol Bolas, but they were all millennia-old experts of their respective fields. Death mages had somewhat of an easier time in casting killing spells, but they usually faced drastic drawbacks of some kind up and including their own life. If these wizards could cast such spells with ease then it was worrying news.
"It is pretty easy to cast, any students here could except for the requirement of having to fuel it with powerful dark emotions. It's also nearly impossible to block."
"That's it? Powerful dark emotions and nearly unblockable? How are you people not on the brink of extinction?" shrieked the pyromancer losing her cool "This whole damn plane should be like Grixis!"
"I fear I know nothing of this Grixis place, but the answer to your question is simple: that spell and its spiritual sisters aren't taught anywhere and outlawed by every government. Using one of them on a human being is an almost assured death sentence."
This calmed and worried Chandra at the same time. They had dodged a lightning bolt the other day with Madam Bones if what she had inferred on death magic was true, but apparently these people took the safety of their citizens very seriously. She had to warn Liliana before someone ended up dead. Or worse.
"Be as it may," Dumbledore's voice brought her out of her musings "I fear that your earlier statement holds some truth: Voldemort did not die that night. He was vanquished, reduced within an inch of his life but alive nonetheless."
"So it might be this Voldemort that tampered with your fancy cup to bring me here?" guessed the pyromancer.
Vengeance was a powerful motivation after all. It was something she was intimately familiar with.
"If I have to be completely honest, I know already who used the cup to summon you," admitted the headmaster sounding like he felt all of his years "I also know why."
Chandra stilled. She felt she wasn't going to like the man's next words one bit.
"There's a prophecy, you see, spoken before you were born. It says clearly that you are the only one that can defeat Voldemort."
Chandra hadn't liked prophecies ever since she'd heard the tales Ajani had brought back from Theros, where gods used them frequently. It was one such prophecy that had brought his friend Elspeth to her death. The whole concept that future was somehow set in stone, that no choice was really hers, made Chandra's skin crawl. She was an indomitable spirit standing up for everybody's freedom, just like her parents on Kaladesh. It was the whole reason she had given her oath to the Gatewatch! So Chandra Nalaar had chosen not to believe in prophets and their ominous words. If they could really foresee the future, then they could as well fight to change it. No scrying spell was perfect after all.
And now, here I am, sitting in front of a man that has all but admitted of robbing me of my freedom because someone fancying themselves a seer had said so.
She let out a long sigh, got up and slowly walked to the door.
"There's another reason."
Dumbledore's voice stopped her but not the roaring inferno inside her mind. She had halted because she knew perfectly well that any movement she made would result in the headmaster's fiery death if she didn't get herself marginally under control.
The man took it as a sign to continue instead.
"I know how Voldemort survived that night, and you are instrumental in avoiding he does it again."
"I don't care," replied Chandra as her hair turned to blazing flames, but her voice was cold.
It spoke of an anger so deep that it could consume entire planes leaving nothing behind. It spoke of terrible retribution. It spoke of hurt, pain and sorrow.
Dumbledore ignored it.
"But you have to care! You have -"
Chandra lost it. She spoke a word so powerful that the air in the office shook and time stood still in wait, interrupting the man's pleas. Then the air itself turned into fire, bright tongues of liquid pain consuming everything near her, turning it all to ashes.
The spell exploded out, destroying the office and the whole tower around it, and almost killing anyone caught in its mercifully short range.
When later Chandra came to her senses in a bed in the infirmary, she was in a world of pain.
She tried to push her mind past her suffering to try to remember. And remember she did.
The Worldfire.
It was the singularly most powerful spell she knew, and she dreaded losing her temper in fear of using it by accident, like she had done years ago. She still sometimes had nightmares about the razed monastery, with the scorched monks sifting through the rubble.
"Ah good, you're awake," came the school healer's voice, her tone decidedly not gentle "Maybe you can tell me what happened. Never seen burns like those and no dead. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."
She was about to open her mouth and say that it was all her fault, that she had lost control, when someone else answered.
"Ah Poppy," said Dumbledore's inexplicably jolly voice, though it sounded croaky, like splintering dry wood "I fear it has been my fault. Me and Miss Nalaar were experimenting with her spells and... Well, you know what they say about playing with fire..."
Chandra's eyes suddenly opened, she needed to look at the man. The light of the infirmary stung her sleep addled eyes, but she didn't care.
The headmaster was a pitiful sight, laying on a bed completely covered in bandages, his impressive beard reduced to a small stump on his chin.
Around him were standing the nurse, the transfiguration and potions professors, a portly man with a lime green bowler hat and Madam Bones in her crimson robes. They all wore worried expressions on their faces.
"Playing with fire?! Your tower is gone Albus!" reprimanded him the female professor "It doesn't exist anymore, along with all your things! It's a miracle you two were simply injured, let alone the only ones!"
"What I want to know," interjected Madam Bones in a tone that was calm and yet full of steel "Is if I have to arrest you or Miss Nalaar."
"Don't be hasty Amelia," protested the paltry man in a conceited tone "We cannot have you arresting either of them on tomorrow's first page! The citizens would have my head!"
"It's my fault," said Chandra, her throat parched and her voice raspy "I lost control."
All the adults' eyes in the room turned towards her. She dearly hoped to be in a less pitiful condition than Dumbledore. She honestly doubted it.
"You're awake as well, good," commented the nurse with a curt nod before going back to check the headmaster.
"Nonsense my girl, you're hardly at fault here," replied Dumbledore giving her a meaningful look "With that kind of forces in play, it's no wonder your spell went awry."
For some reason the man looked intent on relieving her of the blame, despite her nearly killing him. She wondered why.
"See Amelia? It was just an unfortunate accident, a spell getting out of control," cut short the man with the bowler hat looking relieved "No need to arrest anybody."
Whoever was that man, he seemed to be pretty important since he could order around an important figure of law enforcement.
"Anyway, it's a pleasure finally meeting you, Miss Potter - No, wait, it's Nalaar isn't it?" said the man smiling at her "I'm the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Let's hope our next meeting happens in less dire circumstances."
He and Madam Bones stayed a while longer, just the time to ask some more pointed questions that the headmaster fielded, before they left along the professors at the nurse's insistence.
"Why?" croaked Chandra to the headmaster as soon as the infirmary matron was out of sight too.
"To atone a bit, my dear. I fear you have much to forgive me for," was the man's answer "We'll continue our talk when we're both feeling better."
She found it a very Jace-ish thing to say. For once, she didn't feel like retaliating by burning the mind mage's cape.