The pair had just another round of dueling in the Room of Requirement, with Daphne getting faster and better with each duel, and Harry getting to reacquaint himself with his 'muscle memory'. He might have had an exorbitant amount of knowledge in spells, but that was in his previous life. This body, no matter how young or fit, simply wasn't it. That was exactly why he had spent his entire summer rediscovering his powers and abilities. After almost six months in this new body, Harry was sure he could reattempt his second animagus form. While he had shifted into his eagle form the very night he had fused with his younger self in the forest, it had been quite some days until the discomforts had left him.
"Daph! I am going to attempt my animagus transformation."
Daphne glanced at him, surprised. "You are an animagus? Bah! Why am I even surprised?" Harry looked at her amused, and returned. "I have two forms." Ignoring the stupefied look on his girl's face, he continued, "I have tried the first one before. Look."
The familiar feeling returned. His features shifted, his body sprouted feathers as his face elongated into a sharp beak and a narrow head. His hands extended out as feathers and newer bones began forming. With a little whimper, he sat down, the whimper transforming into a squawk as he shifted perfectly.
The entire thing took three seconds. Where Harry Potter stood previously, now perched a golden eagle. A golden eagle with green eyes. The predatory bird gave her a sharp look before squawking out as it extended its wings out, flying up all across the room. The Room automatically expanded itself to give the illusion of a green field as the eagle dived and soared up and down multiple times, before circling around Daphne twice and slowing down, transforming as it dived down, and in perfect coordination, it transformed into Harry as he put his legs on the floor.
There was one problem though.
"Eeeeek! Harry! You are-" Daphne turned red and palmed her face, whirling back almost instantly. Harry looked down and turned red. It seemed his body was still not conditioned that well as he thought it was. He had performed the transformation flawlessly but his clothes had not transfigured back, and thus he was standing in his birthday suit in all his glory.
"UH!" he uttered articulately, almost immediately waving his hand and conjuring a jeans-shirt pair. Putting them on, he looked at his still embarrassed girlfriend. "Daph, I am covered. You can look."
"You sure?" came her voice, a bit different because of her face being palmed.
"Completely."
"Okay."
Daphne turned back at him, not being able to meet his eyes out of embarrassment. Her cheeks were still pink, her mind still not successful in keeping out the memory of the sight. Harry had a well-built body, his muscles... Daph turned red again.
"Reminiscing are we? If you want, I could give you another show." Harry taunted as she blushed again. "I am going to attempt my second form." Understanding her horrified expression, he continued, "I won't transform back in front of you." He clarified. With a nod, Daphne affirmed.
"Here goes nothing..." and he transformed.
His legs shrunk at first, as he felt his muscles tear apart as his bones seemed to bulge out. His entire vertebral column bent on its own, the pain almost killing him as his new muscles and tendons grew up amazingly fast. His face expanded and the sharp fangs erupted on either side of his face. A long tail extended out of his hip as his body was covered in thick black fur. Where initially stood Harry Potter, now stood a large, menacing black lion with glowing green eyes.
Daphne was actually intimidated by the imposing and menacing creature that stood in front of her, the bright green eyes amidst the jet-black fur actually enhancing the frightening persona of the exquisite creature in front of her eyes.
"Haunting!" She said as she blinked. "I cannot get the picture of your bright eyes out of my mind. It kind of sticks in..." The lion bared its fangs for a moment, making Daphne reach out for her wand almost instantly, taking a few steps back. To her surprise, the lion morphed back into Harry Potter (luckily still in his pants this time, the shirt was gone though) grinning madly.
"You absolute prat! What kind of sick amusement do you get by scaring the shit out of me?" She yelled, throwing off a stinging curse at him, which he dodged, the shit-eating grin still stuck to his face. "Come now, don't be a spoilsport. It was fun."
"I will show you fun!" Daphne returned, as she sent another quick succession of spells.
Fleur Delacour shifted listlessly on her bed. Ever since last day's events involving the dragons, she had not been able to have one moment of peace since the grave incident. The rumors about the Triwizard tournament were all too familiar to all. However, knowing the history of the 'death-toll' of the tournament, and actually seeing something like that were completely different things. Last time a single cockatrice had got loose and set off on a killing spree. However, this time, it was not a cockatrice. It was something much more dangerous. Dragons, and that too, Four.
She did not need to reminisce of the event. The memory had replayed itself again and again in her mind. She had faced her dragon, her enchanting skills and her Veela powers were successful in drifting it off to sleep. She had collected her egg and achieved a good '44' in her task, marking her as the top so far. Then, Harry Potter happened.
Potter (Harry, she could not help but think it like that) had just walked in, transfigured a couple of wolves and disillusioned himself. While disillusionment was a pretty good achievement for a fourteen-year-old, it was nothing spectacular. The dragon had pounced on the wolves as expected, and she half-expected Potter to run and try to acquire the egg.
Then he had gone and thrust his palm onto the ground. Fleur's Veela sensors had been on full alert and she sensed what the (no longer just a) fourteen-year-old had done. He had sent a foray of powerful, controlled wandless magic into the ground and summoned something insanely powerful.
Then it began. Humongous shackles erupted out of the ground, binding the dragon totally and subduing it. It was clear that the shackles were much more than normal chains; what with the way, they continued to bind the dragon tighter. The more the dragon tried to break out, the stronger the hold was. The scene sent her mind back, to something similar which she had seen months away... almost in a half-forgotten dream.
The stranger whipped his wand and a black light shone out of it, materializing into thick iron chains. The chains began erupting several iron spikes, crushing and impaling the bound death-eaters, killing them almost instantly. The iron spikes then vanished off, leaving the mutilated and wounded dead bodies, which fell unceremoniously on the ground.
Could it be...?
Her mind went back to the first task. The fourteen-year-old Harry Potter had used an elemental spell and subdued the dragon. That itself was a glowing testament to his magical strength while yelling to the heavens that his magical spell repertoire was hardly limited to his age and class. Fleur had realized that while she might have been one of the original champions, this was someone who was leagues ahead of her, both magically as well in knowledge of spell repertoire; and the best thing- he did not even want to participate in the tournament.
I guess I was wrong about him initially.
But he insulted your dreams. He trashed the prestige of the tournament. A side of her whispered in her ear.
It also shows that he does not care for glory. He has been glorified since birth, he is powerful enough to win the tournament, and yet he did not want to participate. That speaks volumes about his character. Another side of her insisted.
Fleur shifted in her bed, her thoughts making a mess in her mind.
Her mind went back to the event. The odd-looking boy had stood up and fired the blasting curse, destroying the stockade and the dragons had been freed. She had watched with horrified eyes as the Dragon-tamers had left all caution to the wind and jumped out of the ring as the large powerful barrier erupted out from all sides forming a large dome, enclosing the dragons and Harry Potter inside the ring entirely. She had simply accepted that the boy, no young man was going to die. One dragon was one thing, but four dragons and no escape path was simply a recipe for death. The bloody history and death toll of the tournament suddenly became much more real and horrifying to her.
Then the inexplicable had happened. The four dragons, enraged at the enclosure, had settled for belching a wave of flames towards Harry. Then, the boy had gone up and cast the shield.
The shield. Imprimis Patrocinor. The most powerful shield on earth. It was no coincidence that the shield was known as Mage shield; as the requirement for the shield was excessively higher than what a witch or a wizard could ever produce. Her father had once tried to cast it, only to fail dismally and fall into magical exhaustion after some five minutes of trial. It had taken him five days to get himself out of bed and walking again.
Now the fourteen-year-old had not only cast it successfully but also used it to defend himself against dragon fire. Moreover, just after that, he had apparated in an apparation-proof zone multiple times.
Fleur took a deep breath. Harry Potter had then cast Fiendfyre. Cast, not summoned. He cast Fiendfyre, and used it effectively to defeat the dragons and subdue them all. Fleur's mind went back to one lesson she had with her dad during one of their sessions on learning her family magic.
FLASHBACK
"Isn't there any kind of flame spell Papa, one that I could use with my Veela powers?"
Sebastian looked at her amused. "Why would you want that? You can throw fireballs anyway." Fleur gave him a petulant look and continued, "yes but I wanted to see what happens when I amplify a flame spell using my Veela magic. I was wondering if our library contains any powerful flame spells."
Sebastian gave her an odd look. "A flame spell is an elemental spell. Like all elemental spells, it has a modern form and an ancient form. The modern form is what you know as Incendio or what you call as the simple flame spell. On using suffixes like forte or maxima, and pushing our power through the spell, we can use the spell much more effectively. However, the ancient forms of such spells are banned from usage."
"Why so, Papa?"
"It is because of the esoteric form of the spell. Among all elemental spells, the ancient form of the flame spell is the only one still seen in the wizarding world, and more than often, by dark lords and the like."
"I suppose it is very destructive?"
Sebastian laughed. "I could use a modern spell to cause widespread destruction. No my dear, the ancient flame spell, also known as Fiendfyre, is famous among dark wizards because of the esoteric component required for its successful summoning or casting."
"Fiendfyre!" Fleur muttered, and Sebastian smirked. Fleur held her wand tightly and repeated, "Fiendfyre!"
Nothing happened.
Sebastian laughed. "My flower, you can repeat the word for the rest of your life and keep shoving energy through your wand until you are blue in the face, but I repeat, you will not be able to cast it."
"Why?"
Sebastian stood up and walked towards the window. Looking outside, he remarked. "Students of the Dark Arts know that some spells, most notably the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse require that the caster truly hates someone. It need not be the person targeted by the spell when it is actually cast; but the wizard must have someone who he truly hates enough to see dead or tortured respectively, for either spell to be successfully cast on any target. Such an emotion is inadequate for Fiendfyre, however. It is one of the few spells for which the spell's name and its effect are synonymous- there is almost no danger of accidentally casting it due to its rare and difficult esoteric requirements. It is not enough to hate someone or something to cast Fiendfyre. The wizard must hate someone or something so much that any amount of collateral damage is acceptable if it means destroying the object of his hatred. It means that the wizard would be happy to die himself if he can only see the object of his hatred be annihilated first. Of course, the wizard doesn't need to die to cast Fiendfyre, only be willing to do so."
He turned back at his daughter who stood pale, hearing and understanding what her father was telling her. "Tell me, my flower. Can you truly want something destroyed so much, that you are ready to let the world burn, only if it meant that your opponent is destroyed?"
"No, Papa."
"Even for those who are desperate enough to use the spell, all they do is essentially summon the spell. It is essentially summoning flames from the pit of Hell itself. Once summoned, the flames will not stop until it has destroyed everything in its path. It takes a legendary mage to actually cast the spell."
"Cast?"
"Yes, Cast and not summon. Summoning simply means that you call in the flames. There is no guarantee that the spell might work even against you. However..." he perused over one of the older manuscripts in his family library. "There was a powerful mage who lived a thousand years ago, who was believed to be powerful enough to actually cast Fiendfyre." He turned the page towards her.
The picture showed a person in gray robes. He was holding his hands upwards towards heaven as ambient energies seemed to flow out of his palms, and form a small sphere of fire above him. Huge torrents of Fiendfyre were flowing out of the ball, forming basilisks, phoenixes and dragons all around, but none of them harming the mage in the centre, he stood almost as if he had none to fear.
"This is what it means to truly cast Fiendfyre. Most people believe it is impossible to cast it, whereas the researchers believe that a successful amount of control over the fires is equivalent to casting it. This manuscript however, provides some more details."
Fleur preened at the tiny lines written beneath the diagram.
"Qui ambulat in duos invicti."
"What does it mean, Papa?"
Sebastian looked solemn as he answered. "No spell can touch the one who walks in both worlds!"
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know." He confessed.
"Who is this mage?" she questioned.
"A legend notorious in British Wizarding history. Originally known as Serwyl Peverell, he later changed his name when he established his own family. This, my child, is the mage everyone knows and fears as Salazar Slytherin."
END OF FLASHBACK
Harry Potter had just cast Fiendfyre. Just like Salazar Slytherin- Serwyl Peverell. Peverell... The man at the World Cup had said that his name was Peverell. Could that mean-
"Fleur!"
Fleur's eyes shot open as she heard the very familiar voice from the doorway. There at the door, an amused expression on his face stood Sebastian Delacour.
Amelia Bones was going through Hell. First, a seventh-year Ravenclaw, one Michael Warrington had stupidly cast an exploding charm that had endangered the lives of everyone at the Triwizard event. The boy was taken in custody and interrogated by Shacklebolt. He had found nothing.
The boy's eyes were cloudy and fazed, which could only mean one single thing—someone had put the boy under the Imperius curse and made him fire the spell. It simply brought the entire situation to a completely new level of flubberworms.
There was someone hiding in Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a grudge against Harry Potter. One who did not even care that his doing could potentially turn the event into a social relations massacre. It was a good thing that the barrier had worked like a charm and enclosed the dragons before they shot free completely.
Then, Harry Potter had gone off and summoned Fiendfyre. How that boy had managed to do the unfathomable was beyond her. Of course, the elemental earth spell was new to her, but she had attributed it to family magic. How had the boy controlled Fiendfyre? It simply raised a completely new vault of questions. First an unidentified potential killer at the loose, and now a fourteen-year-old summoning Fiendfyre- not to mention a third person hiding in plain sight with evil intentions against Harry Potter.
Amelia decided that at the end of this wretched tournament, she would take a yearlong holiday. Caribbean seemed to be a good place.
Lucius Malfoy entered the Greengrass Manor through the Floo. Cyrus Greengrass had been a raw pain in his arse since October, and he believed that now was the time to finally end his problems for one and for all. The Greengrass-Malfoy contract was ironclad and the rules were clear. Three hundred galleons plus a duel with the Champion of Malfoy's choice. Knowing that Malfoy was the de-facto leader of the Dark families, there was no one who would fight for Greengrass.
Yet, by some chance, Cyrus had found someone to waste his life for his cause. Who the duelist was, Lucius had no idea. However, it did not really matter. After all, his champion was not going to lose anyway. What was one more death among friends?
"Lucius Malfoy, finally you are here."
Malfoy scowled inwardly as he saw Cyrus sitting on the couch. Forcing a fake smile on his face, he walked towards the man. "I suppose it is time for our imminent duel."
"True. I was wondering if you would postpone it once again."
Malfoy's lips twitched. The balls of the man... He simply smiled at Cyrus and sat on the couch. "My champion is Igor Karkaroff. You have heard of him, I hope. Present Headmaster of Durmstrang institute and an accomplished master of the dark arts."
Cyrus simply nodded, not giving any of the reactions Lucius had been expecting.
"My champion is Harry Potter, current Head of House Potter."
What?
"You have a fourteen-year-old as a Champion? I never thought Cyrus Greengrass as such a coward to hide behind a fourteen-year-old boy."
"Are you talking about the same fourteen-year-old boy who used ancient spells and subdued not one, but four great dragons simultaneously?"
Lucius gritted his teeth. This was complicating the issue. Potter was a wild card. Extremely unpredictable and importantly, insanely powerful if the first task was any indication."
"The duel is tomorrow. Let me know when the time is. I will let you know where the place is. Sound good?"
Lucius gritted his teeth. Suddenly his day was not going so well. "Yes, it is."
"Farewell Lucius." Cyrus greeted him as the Malfoy lord left through the Floo.
### Another short chapter. But it fit the bill. the next chapter is going to be another of the long ones, you know the ones which rise to the 6000- word count. Just wanted to pull out certain facts before another important segment begins. Enjoy. And of course, reviews please.
Also, the concept of Fiendfyre is extracted from "Harry Potter and the secret enemy' by The Sinister Man. My favorite author, and in fact, the reason I borrowed it from his story is because the explanation is simply 'perfect'.
