Harry grunted, his muscles straining under the enormous pressure of the spell. It was like being crushed by an invisible force, the energy of the magical assault battering against the shield he had conjured.

Across the expanse, Professor Blackwood was standing tall, his wand held high. "Is that all you've got, Potter?" he called out mockingly, his voice piercing through the open field. A flick of his wrist and another torrent of spells hurtled towards Harry.

Harry, in response, scoffed. He swiftly dispelled his shield, instead conjuring a wall of solid bricks that materialized in front of him. His chest heaved as the barrage of spells crashed into the brick wall, causing it to crumble into a rain of debris. But Harry was prepared; with a swift, almost casual flick of his wand, he transfigured the broken pieces of brick into a volley of projectiles that hurtled back towards the Professor.

Yet, Professor Blackwood didn't even flinch. With a casual wave of his wand, he transfigured the brick shards mid-flight into a pack of wolves that swiftly turned on Harry. They were merely magical constructs, but the raw power behind them was real. Harry reacted with lightning speed, a shimmering spear of electric energy appearing from his wand and skewering through the ethereal wolves, reducing them to puffs of smoke.

A ferocious grin spread across Harry's face as he tilted his wand upward. "I'll show you what I've got," he shouted defiantly. As the incantation left his lips, the ceiling above them darkened into a churning mass of storm clouds. Lightning danced across its underbelly, crackling ominously. And then, the sky opened up, a volley of lightning bolts hurtling down towards Professor Blackwood.

Yet, Blackwood merely smirked. A swift incantation, a twist of his wand, and the downward lightning bolts changed direction, aiming right back at Harry. The bolts hit Harry, energy coursed through his body, but instead of pain, it filled him with an exhilarating rush of power. Stamping his foot on the ground, he sent out violent arches of lightning, ripping through the earth as they barreled towards the Professor.

Blackwood conjured a giant wall of earth in response, its surface charring black from the high-energy assault. Yet it remained intact, a testament to his control and skill. In a surprising move, the wall morphed into a golem, lumbering towards Harry.

The golem came at him like a roaring landslide. Harry slid between its legs with a magically-assisted burst of speed. Turning around swiftly, he released five bolts of lightning from his fingertips that hammered into the golem's back. Its form wavered under the onslaught, pieces of it flaking off.

Suddenly, a prickling sensation at the back of his neck alerted Harry to incoming danger. With a swift movement, he summoned the Sword of Gryffindor into his free hand, deflecting an incoming spell with the gleaming blade. The sword spun and flew into the air, disoriented from the impact.

Harry glanced back at Blackwood who wore a grin of amusement. In a fit of anger, Harry increased the intensity of his lightning assault, blasting the golem apart. As the Sword descended back towards the ground, Harry hit it with a banishing charm, sending it hurtling towards Blackwood.

With an astonishing display of agility, Blackwood sidestepped the incoming sword and snatched it out of the air. He cursed as the sword vanished upon his touch, turning back to face Harry, who was now charging at him, Sword of Gryffindor back in hand.

With a challenging grin, Professor Blackwood summoned a sword of his own, its edges gleaming ominously as an enchantment coated the weapon, preparing it for the impending clash with the Sword of Gryffindor. Their swords met in mid-air, the metallic resonance vibrating through the air. Sparks erupted from the point of contact, scattering into the surrounding air.

The swords clashed repeatedly, the sound reverberating through the field. Harry could feel the strain in his arm with every block and counterstrike, the energy of the duel pooling in his muscles. Blackwood, however, was relentless, pressing on with a dogged determination that forced Harry back. Suddenly, with an unexpected flourish, Blackwood disarmed Harry, his own blade resting dangerously against Harry's neck.

"I win," Blackwood declared, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The triumphant note in his voice resonated in his voice.

Harry, however, was far from defeated. A wide grin spread across his face as he retorted, "Draw." The Sword of Gryffindor appeared back in his grip as if summoned by his will, its point threateningly aimed at Blackwood's torso. Harry felt a sense of satisfaction, a momentary victory.

His triumph was fleeting. A sudden, chilling sensation alerted Harry to the wand pressing against the back of his skull. He stiffened, turning around to face the voice that had crept up behind him. "No, I win," the familiar voice of Blackwood echoed, this time from behind him.

Disbelief coursed through Harry as the illusion of Blackwood before him disappeared. "When?" Harry demanded, rubbing his temples to ease the sudden headache that had appeared.

"Right after you banished the sword at me," came Blackwood's voice, a hint of amusement lacing his words. The professor lowered his wand, the victorious smirk still etched on his face.

Sagging his shoulders, Harry felt a pang of defeat. "That quickly? I didn't even feel anything," he grumbled, the realization that he had been fooled sinking in.

Chuckling, Blackwood patted Harry on his shoulder. "I am a master of the Art, Harry. It would be quite embarrassing if a fourteen-year-old saw through my illusions," he said, the words wrapped in a tone of humility.

Muttering under his breath, Harry shot back, "I'm way stronger than an average fourteen-year-old," his voice carrying a hint of defiance.

"Ah, but power rarely beats experience," Blackwood pointed out, a knowing smile gracing his features. "You'd do well to remember that, Harry."

Sitting in a conjured chair, Harry felt the weariness in his muscles. He reached into his robes to pull out a pepper-up potion, downing it to replenish his depleted energy. The potion coursed through him, infusing him with renewed vigor. He stretched, shaking off the residual fatigue, and looked up at the professor. "What's next?"

"Next, you go back to the Great Hall. They're making an announcement," Blackwood informed him. His tone was indifferent, yet Harry could sense a hint of intrigue in his voice.

Confusion flickered in Harry's eyes. "Really? No physical conditioning today?"

The professor shook his head. "The power surge you got from awakening your elemental ability has totally thrown off my training plan."

"Surely it didn't make me that much more powerful." He said in slight surprise.

"You might not have noticed it but your senses are fare sharper then before and your reaction time is almost unearthly, you're also faster with your spell casting. I theorize that it has something to do with nature of the element you possess. Lightning. It's quick, deadly."

Harry nodded. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, I suppose." Harry bid his farewell and headed towards the castle. Professor Blackwood simply vanished from his spot.

As Harry walked back to the Great Hall, his mind was full of the implications of Blackwood's words. He entered the hall and started thinking where he wanted to sit. He saw Luna sitting alone at the Ravenclaw table and took a seat next to her, ignoring the glances of other students.

Suddenly, the room quieted as Dumbledore stood, his voice carrying through the hall. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice resonant, "I am delighted to announce that this year, Hogwarts will host a Yule Ball."

Harry muttered into his goblet, "Definitely not going to that."

It seemed Dumbledore's ears were as sharp as ever. His eyes twinkled as he continued, "And it's mandatory for the champions to attend."

Harry choked on his Pumpkin Juice, his eyes shooting daggers at the Headmaster who simply chuckled. The hall was filled with a mixture of excitement, whispers, and a touch of dread as the announcement sank in. Harry merely sighed, resigning himself to the fact that this year was turning out to be more eventful than he'd ever imagined.

Luna looked at Harry, her eyes as dreamy as ever but filled with a knowing wisdom. "So, who are you planning to go with?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Harry sighed, pushing his food around his plate. "I have absolutely no clue, Luna. I didn't even want to go in the first place."

Luna smiled softly. "Well, Harry, sometimes the best decisions are made with the heart, not the mind. Listen to what feels right."

Harry looked at her, appreciating the sincerity in her words. "Thanks, Luna. That's good advice."

Just as he was about to take another bite of his shepherd's pie, a second-year girl approached him. She had strawberry blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall of soft, golden light. Her eyes were a vivid green, almost mirroring Harry's own but with a sparkle that was uniquely hers.

"Hello, Harry. I'm Astoria, Astoria Greengrass," she introduced herself, her voice carrying a note of youthful excitement.

Harry smiled warmly. "Ah, Daphne's sister. Pleasure to meet you, Astoria. Would you like to join us?" He gestured to the empty space next to him and Luna.

Astoria's eyes lit up. "I'd love to, thank you."

As she sat down and began to fill her plate with an assortment of dishes, she looked up at Harry, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "So, are you planning on taking my sister Daphne to the ball?"

Harry choked on his Pumpkin Juice for the second time that day, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. "You know, people really need to stop making me spill my juice everywhere," he muttered, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Astoria giggled, her laughter like the tinkling of wind chimes. "Sorry, couldn't resist. But seriously, have you thought about it?"

Harry looked at her, then at Luna, and felt a strange sense of clarity. Maybe Luna was right; maybe he should listen to his heart. "I haven't decided yet, but thanks for giving me something to think about," he said, his voice tinged with genuine gratitude.

Astoria smiled, satisfied with his answer. "Well, I hope you do, between me and you, I think she's hoping you'll ask her." She said. nudging Harry slightly

Harry's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he considered Astoria's words. "She's hoping I'll ask her, huh?" He glanced over at the Slytherin table where Daphne sat, engrossed in conversation with Tracey Davis. As if sensing his gaze, Daphne looked up and their eyes met. A warm smile graced her lips, a momentary connection in the sea of faces.

But that smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared when Daphne's eyes shifted and caught sight of her younger sister sitting beside Harry. Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion replacing the earlier warmth.

"Uh-oh," Astoria muttered, her eyes widening as she took in her sister's expression. "Time for me to go... Toodles, Harry!" She stood up abruptly, her movements a bit too quick to be casual, and made her way out of the Great Hall with a speed that suggested she was keen to avoid an impending sisterly interrogation.

Harry watched as Daphne stood up, her eyes still locked on her retreating sister. A small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Daphne began to follow Astoria, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what sort of sisterly conversation awaited the Greengrass girls.

As he turned back to his plate, Harry felt a mix of emotions swirling within him. Astoria's words echoed in his mind, adding another layer of complexity to his thoughts about the upcoming Yule Ball. Could he really see himself asking Daphne? And if so, what did that mean for him?

Luna, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange, leaned in and whispered, "It seems like you have quite a decision to make, Harry."

He looked at her, her eyes filled with that same dreamy wisdom that often made her words feel heavier than they sounded. "Yeah," he said softly, "I really do.".

And so, as he finished his meal and rose from the table, Harry felt a sense of purpose settle within him. He would ask Daphne to the Yule Ball, not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

Just then a parchment fell into his lap, he picked it up and read it.

Headmaster's office ASAP

"I've got an appointment with Professor Dumbledore, Luna. I'll catch up with you later."

Luna gave him her usual aloof smile, her eyes twinkling as if she knew something he didn't. "See you later, Harry."

Navigating the labyrinthine corridors of Hogwarts, Harry arrived at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle, as if sensing his appointment, moved aside without requiring the usual password. Harry ascended the spiral staircase and knocked softly on the door.

"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore's voice echoed from within.

As he entered, Harry was surprised to see Professor Blackwood standing there, a grin stretching across his face. Harry felt a twinge of wariness; that kind of smile on Blackwood's face usually signaled something challenging, if not downright dangerous.

"Good afternoon, Professors," Harry greeted, his eyes darting between the two men. "May I ask why I've been called here?"

Dumbledore glanced at Blackwood, who took this as his cue to speak. "Potter, it seems our regular training sessions are no longer as effective as they once were. You've outgrown them, so to speak. Therefore, we've decided it's time for you to embark on an... adventure."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Adventure?"

Dumbledore sighed, his eyes meeting Harry's with a mix of seriousness and a hint of regret. "Yes, an adventure, or perhaps more accurately, a quest. You see, your combat skills need to be honed in a more realistic setting. Sparring sessions can only take you so far. You need experience, the kind that can't be simulated."

Harry felt a rush of mixed emotions. On one hand, the prospect of an adventure sounded thrilling, a break from the routine. On the other, the idea of facing real danger made his stomach churn with apprehension.

"Where exactly is this adventure going to take place?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and caution.

Blackwood's grin widened, and Harry felt that twinge of wariness intensify. "Ah, that's the best part. It's a surprise."

Dumbledore interjected, "Rest assured, Harry, this is a well-thought-out endeavor. We believe it will provide you with the experience you need to grow, both as a wizard and as a young man."

Harry looked from one professor to the other, sensing the gravity behind their words. Finally, he nodded. "Alright, I'm in. When do we start?"

Blackwood clapped his hands together, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Excellent!; we leave... Right now!"

"Wha-" Harry was caught off guard as suddenly appeared beside him in an instant and placed a piece of rope in Harry's hand and grabbed onto it as well.

Harry felt a sudden tug at his navel, as if an invisible hand had grabbed him by the gut and yanked him forward. The sensation was like being squeezed through a narrow tube, the world around him blurring into a dizzying swirl of colors and shapes. And then, just as abruptly as it had started, it stopped. Harry found himself tumbling face-first into a blanket of snow.

As he pushed himself up and wiped the snow from his face, he heard the sound of hearty laughter. Looking up, he saw Professor Blackwood doubled over, his laughter echoing through the crisp mountain air.

Harry's eyes twitched in irritation. "A warning next time would be nice," he snarked, brushing the remaining snow off his robes. He felt the runes sewn into the fabric activate, warming him against the biting cold.

Blackwood finally managed to contain his laughter. "Ah, where's the fun in that?" He gestured grandly at their surroundings. "Welcome to the mountains of Greenland!"

Harry raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over the endless expanse of snow and ice. "And what, pray tell, are we doing here?"

Blackwood's face turned serious, the earlier mirth vanishing as if it had never been. "We're going tomb raiding."

Harry sputtered in disbelief. "Tomb raiding? You brought me here to rob a grave?"

Blackwood chuckled. "No, no, Harry. Tomb raiding is very different from grave robbing," he said, his tone taking on a sage-like quality.

Harry rolled his eyes. "And how are they different, oh wise one?"

"Because," Blackwood paused, locking eyes with Harry, "when you're robbing a grave, you don't usually have to fight magical creatures."

The seriousness in Blackwood's eyes made Harry straighten up. "Alright, I'm listening. Whose tomb are we raiding?"

Blackwood shrugged as they began to trudge through the snow, their boots crunching with each step. "No idea. The International Confederation of Wizards detected a surge of magic in these mountains. They sent a team to investigate, and well, they haven't returned. Dumbledore was asked to look into it, and I suggested that this could be a valuable learning experience for you."

Harry felt a mix of apprehension and excitement churn within him. This was no ordinary field trip; it was a mission with real stakes, real dangers. And yet, as he followed Blackwood through the icy wilderness, Harry felt more alive than he had in months. Here, amidst the snow and the unknown, he could almost forget about the Yule Ball, the Triwizard Tournament, and all the other complications that had been piling up in his life.

"Alright," Harry finally said, his voice tinged with newfound resolve. "Let's go find that tomb."

Blackwood grinned, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of pride and anticipation. "That's the spirit, Harry. Trust me, this is one lesson you're not likely to forget."

And so they ventured deeper into the mountains.

Harry glanced at Blackwood as they trudged through the snow, curiosity getting the better of him. "How do you even know where we're going?"

"Intuition," Blackwood replied, his voice as cryptic as ever. For a split second, Harry could have sworn he saw one of Blackwood's eyes flash white before returning to its usual grey. He shrugged it off, attributing it to a trick of the light or perhaps the disorienting effect of the endless snow.

They continued their trek through the icy landscape, the silence punctuated only by the crunch of their boots and the occasional gust of wind. Suddenly, Blackwood's hand shot out, stopping Harry in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, his eyes meeting Blackwood's narrowed gaze.

"We're here," Blackwood said, his voice tinged with a gravity that made Harry's skin prickle.

Harry looked around, his eyes scanning the snow-covered expanse. "Professor, there's nothing here," he said, puzzled. There was no sign of any structure, let alone a tomb.

Blackwood drew his wand and pointed it at the ground in front of him. He muttered an incantation, and Harry's eyes widened as he saw a pulse of magic emanate from the wand's tip. It spread outward like a ripple, expanding into a large ring that seemed to stretch for miles. The burst of magic was so intense that Harry had to shield his eyes with his arm, the light too blinding to bear.

When he finally opened his eyes, he was met with a sight that made his jaw drop. Where there had been nothing but snow a moment ago, now stood a massive gateway, its intricate carvings and ancient runes glowing softly in the dim light.

"This," Blackwood said, his voice tinged with awe, "is the tomb we were looking for."

Harry stared at the gateway, a mix of excitement and apprehension flooding through him. This was it, the threshold to an unknown adventure, a test of his skills and courage. And as he stood there, taking in the grandeur of the ancient structure, he felt a sense of anticipation build within him.

Blackwood turned to him, his eyes meeting Harry's with a look of solemnity. "Are you ready?"

Harry took a deep breath, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Blackwood nodded, a hint of pride flashing in his eyes. "Very well. Let's see what secrets this tomb holds."

And with that, they stepped through the gateway, leaving behind the familiar world of snow and ice, venturing into the unknown depths of a mystery that had claimed the lives of those who had come before them.

"Take out your wand, Harry," Blackwood instructed as they ventured deeper into the ancient structure. The light from the entrance grew dimmer with each step, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

With a flick of his wrist, Harry cast a Lumos spell, illuminating the space around them. The light from his wand revealed a room that seemed to stretch the boundaries of time itself. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings that depicted scenes both awe-inspiring and unsettling—figures in battle, mythical creatures, and arcane symbols that Harry couldn't begin to decipher. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling like tattered curtains, and the air was thick with the musty scent of decay and long-forgotten secrets.

"Good thinking," Blackwood praised, his eyes scanning the room.

They spotted a corridor to their right and decided to explore it. The narrow passage opened into a larger, cave-like chamber. The sound of liquid dripping echoed through the space, creating an atmosphere that was both haunting and strangely hypnotic.

Harry felt a droplet hit his face. He wiped it off and looked at his hand, his eyes widening in horror. It was blood. His gaze shot upward, finding the source—a body, brutally mutilated, hanging from the ceiling, its blood dripping in a slow, macabre rhythm.

A wave of panic surged through him, but Harry quickly employed the mind arts techniques he'd been learning to suppress it. He heard Blackwood curse softly under his breath as the older wizard moved swiftly toward a pile of bodies heaped in a corner of the cave.

Harry followed, his eyes darting around the chamber, half-expecting some malevolent creature to leap out at them. Blackwood reached down to touch one of the bodies, his eyes closing as if in concentration.

"Dark magic," he said, finally opening his eyes to meet Harry's gaze. "Very dark magic."

The gravity in Blackwood's voice sent a chill down Harry's spine.

"Are these the ICW officers?" Harry asked, his eyes lingering on the pile of bodies.

Blackwood nodded grimly. "It appears so."

As he stood up, an ominous voice hissed from the shadows, filling the chamber with a sense of impending dread. "Who dares to enter this sacred place?"

Blackwood's grip on his wand tightened, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the darkness. "Reveal yourself!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber.

The voice hissed back, its tone dripping with disdain. "Arrogant mortal! You will go where these foolish wizards have gone before you."

As the words reverberated through the chamber, the ground beneath them began to tremble. Harry's eyes darted around, his wand at the ready, his senses heightened to a razor's edge. Then, to his horror, the dirt and stone around them began to shift and rise. Decayed hands, skeletal and fleshless, burst forth from the ground, followed by bodies—lifeless, moaning figures that seemed to claw their way out of the very earth.

Before they knew it, hordes of these undead creatures were rushing toward them, their moans filling the air with a cacophony of despair. Reacting almost in unison, Harry and Blackwood unleashed their magic.

With a flick of his wand, Blackwood conjured a whip made of fire that lashed out at the approaching horde. The creatures screamed in agony as the flames met their decaying flesh, sending them flying left and right as Blackwood fought with a ferocity that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Harry, on the other hand, channeled his elemental affinity for lightning. With a focused incantation, bolts of electric energy erupted from his wand, striking the advancing creatures and sending two dozen of them sprawling backward. But these abominations were relentless; they picked themselves up and charged again, only to be met with another volley of lightning that sent them tumbling back once more.

Despite the intensity of their counterattack, Harry realized that their spells were only slowing the creatures down, not stopping them.

Blackwood's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and urgent. "Harry, only fire will work on them! Magical fire is best, but any fire will do!"

Nodding, Harry slashed his wand upward, focusing his magical energy into a single, incendiary spell. A pillar of fire roared to life, engulfing the undead creatures in its searing embrace. Their screams filled the chamber, a haunting chorus that echoed off the walls. When Harry finally lowered his wand, the pillar of fire dissipated, leaving behind a heap of charred, unmoving bodies.

But there was no time to catch his breath. A new horde of undead emerged from the shadows, lunging at him with renewed ferocity. Reacting quickly, Harry unleashed another wave of fire, incinerating the advancing creatures.

With his free hand, he began to conjure runic symbols, his fingertips glowing with magical energy. With a flick of his wrist, he launched the runes into the air, where they formed a protective array between him and the approaching horde. The runes ignited, creating a barrier of fire that burned any creature daring to come close. But Harry knew this was a temporary solution; the barrier wouldn't hold them off for long.

Just then, he heard Blackwood shout something in a language he didn't recognize.

"Μή τι νεώτερον ἀγγέλλεις!"

The words were foreign, but the magical power behind them was unmistakable. Blackwood's fiery whip transformed, its size expanding as its color shifted to an ethereal green. With renewed vigor, he lashed out at the undead, the green flames consuming them with an intensity that seemed to defy the laws of nature.

Slowly but surely, the tide began to turn. The horde was being pushed back, their numbers dwindling under the relentless assault of magical fire. With a final, coordinated burst of fire, Harry and Blackwood incinerated the last of the undead horde. The creatures' moans and screams faded into silence, leaving only the sound of their own heavy breathing. Harry was panting, his chest heaving with each deep breath, while Blackwood seemed only slightly winded.

"Impressive," the voice returned, its tone tinged with what sounded like genuine admiration. "You possess powerful magic indeed."

"What are you? Reveal yourself," Blackwood commanded, his voice echoing through the chamber.

The voice laughed, a sound that sent shivers down Harry's spine. "Very well, you have earned it. Be grateful, mortal. No one has laid eyes on my form for a very long time."

The cave began to tremble, the shaking so intense that Harry nearly lost his footing. Blackwood steadied him just in time as a massive hand, easily the size of Harry's entire body, emerged from the ground. Harry swallowed hard as a colossal figure pulled itself free, standing nearly 20 feet tall and clad in metallic armor. Its red eyes glowed ominously through the visor of its helmet.

Blackwood cursed under his breath in a language Harry didn't recognize. "Of course, it had to be a Lich King," he snarked, raising his wand in preparation for battle.

Harry felt a wave of terror wash over him but managed to steady his hand, pointing his wand at the towering figure. A quick glance to his right revealed a bead of sweat trickling down Blackwood's forehead. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Harry made the first move.

With a swift arc of his wand, he unleashed a wave of lightning that tore through the ground, striking the giant figure. To his dismay, the Lich King remained unfazed, its red eyes fixed on him.

"Uh... sorry?" Harry offered, his voice tinged with both fear and regret.

In response, the Lich King raised its hand and unleashed a beam of black energy. Harry's quick reflexes saved him; he conjured a magical shield just in time to intercept the attack. Even so, the force behind the beam was so powerful that it sent him sliding backward, his boots scraping against the stone floor.

With a shared look of determination, Harry and Blackwood unleashed a torrent of spells at the towering Lich King. Arcane bolts, fiery blasts, and tendrils of lightning converged on the monstrous figure, who raised his arms in a futile attempt to shield himself. Emitting a deafening roar, the Lich King charged at them with a speed that defied his massive size.

Harry dove to the side, narrowly avoiding a crushing punch from the Lich King. Rolling to his feet, he unleashed a barrage of lightning from his fingertips. The electrical assault made the Lich King stumble back, just in time for Blackwood to hit him with a spell that seemed to be a swirling vortex of wind and shards of ice. The Lich King let out a rageful shout and retaliated with a sweeping wave of dark magic that lifted Harry off his feet and sent him crashing into a wall.

Groaning, Harry slid down the wall, his vision spinning. Shaking off the disorientation, he stood and pointed his wand at the ground. Golden chains erupted from the floor, binding the Lich King's arms and legs. Harry gritted his teeth, focusing all his energy into maintaining the magical restraints. But the Lich King shattered the chains with a roar, only to be sent flying backward by Blackwood's next spell—a fist made of rock, transfigured and launched with incredible force.

Blackwood followed up with a series of destructive spells. A piercing beam of light that shattered the Lich King's armor on impact. Another was a wave of molten lava that further weakened the monstrous figure.

Harry continued to assail the Lich King with bolts of lightning, but he could feel his energy waning. Just as they seemed to have the Lich King cornered, the creature unleashed twin bolts of dark magic. Despite their hastily conjured shields, the bolts tore through their defenses, sending both wizards flying back into the walls of the chamber.

Harry felt a sickening crack in his skull, and warm blood trickled down his face. Blackwood clutched his ribs, wincing in pain, clearly broken. Both were battered, but not defeated. As they struggled to their feet, their eyes met.

The Lich King, seemingly recognizing Blackwood as the greater threat, charged at the professor with a guttural roar. Gritting his teeth, Blackwood pointed his wand at the ground and flicked it in a circle. A ring of blue fire sprang up around him. As the Lich King drew near, tendrils of flame lashed out, striking the armored behemoth. The Lich King hissed in pain, swiping at the tendrils but failing to quell them.

With another flick of his wand, Blackwood summoned more tendrils that wrapped around the Lich King's arms and legs, momentarily halting its advance. Sensing his opportunity, Harry wiped the blood from his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath to clear his spinning vision. Extending his hand, the Sword of Gryffindor materialized with a familiar weight.

Just as the Lich King broke free from Blackwood's magical restraints and raised its fist to deliver a crushing blow, Harry acted. Infusing his legs with a burst of magical energy, he leapt high into the air. With a determined shout, he descended upon the Lich King, driving the Sword of Gryffindor through the back of its head.

For a few heart-stopping seconds, the Lich King froze, its red eyes dimming. Then, with a final shudder, it toppled over, lifeless at last. Harry groaned as he disentangled himself from the fallen giant, his muscles aching and his head pounding.

Looking up, he met Blackwood's eyes. The professor's face was a tapestry of exhaustion, relief, and—most surprisingly—pride. Despite their injuries and the harrowing battle they'd just survived, that look said it all.

"You've got balls, kid.. Nice one, Potter. Bastard almost got me in the end.." Blackwood praised.

Blackwood extended his hand, helping Harry to his feet. With a tap of his wand on Harry's forehead, the bleeding ceased. "I'm no healer, but that should stop the bleeding until we get back to Hogwarts," Blackwood said.

"Thanks," Harry replied, watching as Blackwood pointed his wand at his own ribs and muttered a spell. The professor hissed in pain, then exhaled in relief. "Now, we should probably get out of here," he suggested.

Just then, a grinding noise echoed from their right. Both wizards had their wands out in an instant. The walls of the cave shifted, revealing another corridor. Blackwood looked from the corridor to Harry, then back again. Harry hung his head, already knowing what his professor was thinking.

"I mean, it can't possibly get worse than a Lich King," Blackwood said, trying to muster enthusiasm.

Harry sighed, mumbling under his breath. But then something caught his eye—skeletons in the corner of the cave. "Those don't look like ICW wizards," he observed, noticing a piece of paper on the ground near them. Picking it up, he found he couldn't read the text.

"Let me see," Blackwood said, taking the paper and scrutinizing it. His eyes widened. "So that's why they were here," he mumbled.

"What? Who was here?" Harry asked, confused.

Blackwood sighed. "These skeletons were Magic Artifact Hunters. They were searching for a powerful magical artifact, traced it here, and most likely met their end at the hands of the Lich King. Their presence probably caused the original magical surge that the ICW came to investigate."

"Well, the artifact is probably down that corridor. So let's go!" Blackwood said, his voice tinged with a level of enthusiasm that Harry couldn't quite share.

Harry and Blackwood cautiously stepped into the room, their eyes immediately drawn to a pedestal in the center. Hovering above it was a black wand, adorned with intricate blue engravings that seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

"Well, that's a 'Powerful Magical Artifact' if I've ever seen one," Blackwood quipped. But Harry was already transfixed, his gaze locked onto the wand as if it were the only thing in existence.

Drawn as if by an invisible force, Harry approached the pedestal.

"Wait! Stop! Don't touch it!"

Blackwood shouted a warning, but it was as if Harry couldn't hear him. With a sense of inevitability, Harry's hand closed around the wand. Blackwood tensed, his eyes darting around the room, expecting disaster.

But nothing happened.

Then, a soft noise caught their attention. Both wizards turned to see a floating figure materialize before them—a woman of ethereal beauty. Her eyes met Harry's. "Death has marked you, Young Wizard," she intoned ominously.

"Who are you?" Blackwood demanded, his wand still at the ready.

The woman turned her gaze to Blackwood, her eyes filled with a deep sadness. "Eleos clings to you," she said cryptically before vanishing into thin air.

Suddenly, the room began to shake. Chunks of the ceiling started to fall. "Let's get out of here!" Blackwood shouted. Both wizards sprinted toward the exit. On the way, Blackwood paused briefly at the pile of ICW wizard bodies, transfiguring them into matchsticks that he pocketed. Then they resumed their mad dash for safety.

Bursting through the entrance of the tomb, they made it outside just as the structure collapsed behind them. Both men stood panting, their chests heaving as they processed the enormity of what had just happened. Harry looked down at the wand in his hand, then back at Blackwood.

"Let's go home.." Harry said.

"Indeed, I think I've had enough Adventure for today." Blackwood joked, taking out the piece of rope again.

The world spun around them as the Portkey activated, and Harry felt that familiar, unpleasant sensation of being yanked through space. With a thud, they landed back at Hogwarts, sprawling on the ground.

"Guess you also need practice, old man," Harry joked, rubbing his sore backside.

Blackwood swatted him lightly on the head. "Speak for yourself."

Dumbledore was there to greet them, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Have a fun time?" he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

Both Harry and Blackwood stared at him, their faces a tapestry of exhaustion and disbelief. Dumbledore's smile faded a bit. "I'll take that as a no," he said, surveying their battered appearances. "It seems you both need the Hospital Wing. We'll discuss your adventure later."

Before they could protest, Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, swooped down and flashed them to the Hospital Wing.

"What's all the noise?" Madam Pomfrey shouted, rushing over. Her eyes widened as she took in their condition. "In bed, now! Both of you!"

Harry and Blackwood exchanged glances. They knew better than to argue with Madam Pomfrey's glare. They obediently lay down in separate beds, side by side.

"Bloody scary, that woman is," Blackwood muttered.

Harry nodded, his eyes darting to the door as he heard footsteps. Dumbledore entered, followed by Daphne, who looked worried. She hurried over to Harry's bedside. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry assured her. Daphne then turned to Blackwood. "How are you feeling, Professor?"

"Never felt better, Miss Greengrass," Blackwood quipped.

After a brief conversation, Daphne prepared to leave. Remembering Astoria's and Luna's words, Harry chewed his lips. As she was about to leave, Harry blurted out, "Daphne, do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?"

Daphne paused, her back to him. Then she turned around, her eyes shining. "I would love to," she said softly, leaning over to kiss his forehead. "Sleep well."

As she left, Harry felt his cheeks flush, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Never knew you were such a charmer, Potter," Blackwood teased, breaking the silence.

Harry chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with Madam Pomfrey's potions. "Well, I guess there's a first time for everything," he replied, still grinning.

Blackwood looked at him, his eyes twinkling in a way that reminded Harry of Dumbledore. "Indeed, young man. Indeed."

As Harry lay there, his eyes began to drift shut. The day's events replayed in his mind—a Lich King, a mysterious artifact, and now a date to the Yule Ball.

Speaking of the Artifact, Harry took out the wand from his pocket and looked at his. As his eye lids started to droop, he could've swore he saw the words. "Storm Breaker." Shine on the engravings of the wand...

ANND that's it.

Wow, it's been a while huh. I have no excuse except for Writer's Block and my Laptop breaking. Have a new one now tho, so we're good. Hope you liked this chapter!