Ashes of Hell
"Evolution. That's what it's always been about."
Harry secured the post carved out of the dead tree and summoned ropes to tie up Rita Skeeter's blood soaked body to it.
"Magic demanded it happen," he murmured.
Harry raised a finger and pointed it at the head at his feet and silently the word unworthy were carved into her forehead.
"I was never in control. I was just the perfect vessel."
His dreams in the past were plagued with a false utopia that he thought was the desert. The desert however was just the tipping point. The trigger to the start of a greater revolution whose soul lay among the illusion of control and whose quest was to gain control.
"The truth is I was born in a world of decay. Magic was dying and its evolution in order to survive was inevitable."
His mind had been a perfect dimension of catch-22. Wanting to find control and wanting to loose control was his pattern. Looking for an answer where there was no answer was his personal hell that had succeeded in consuming him, taking his conscious to the darkest corners of hell until eventually, he evolved.
Harry sighed and lifted her head with a fistful of hair. He raised it to eye level and almost felt sad at the sight of hope still alive in her dead eyes.
It also brought him happiness. Killing her had brought him closer to a sense of sanity. It was almost like rediscovering the drug to his recover from his madness.
Now he just wondered where to place the head. Irrational Murder had brought out his artistic side and he wanted Rita's body to make an impression if anyone ever found it.
After a few moments of contemplation, he decided on leaving it on a pike beside her body. He summoned the void and with razor focus, crafted a six-foot-high pike from the remains of the tree and banished the head into the sharp end on top.
It slammed with a crunch and a squelch.
The night was still dark and yet all Harry could see was light. A path heading towards a destination with evolution as the source of illumination. He had hit rock bottom and found enlightenment.
Rita of all people had shown him an answer. It's what made her death so sweet.
Harry stared at the giant pillars of magic that twisted the reality of the desert expressed in the form of a labyrinth.
He summoned the void and reached out to the pillars with a will stronger than he had ever felt and vision clear as the future.
Reality and fantasy warped as Harry forced his way towards the exit with greater power than ever until the desert distorted and relocated Harry as he took one step ahead.
Rita faded into nothing and Harry stepped into the village of Hogsmeade.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
January Nineteen Ninety-Six – United Nations Headquarters, New York, NY 10017, USA
The atmosphere was one with tension and pending doom.
The ICW and UN - Security Councils were for the first time in history been forced to sit and face a crisis together.
Out of the fifteen members one could no longer be considered as a power anymore. Their country had to be deleted from present tense and maps had to be redrawn.
The United Kingdoms was now considered in contention for the prize of the greatest mystery right up there with the disappearance of Atlantis.
The main concern in the cool, pleasantly lit, high roof room was the unravelling of world economy. People were losing their money. Factories were being shut down and chaos had taken the streets of the world.
One of the wheels of economic control had been smashed to pieces and the world leaders were clueless how to deal with the wreckage.
Hence today's gathering.
"Let me start with saying how deeply shocked we are at this calamity that has befallen your nation Your Majesty."
Bill Clinton's steely yet remorseful gaze swept across the room and rested on the majestically dressed Queen. Behind her, stood Charlie Weasley, one of the few survivors that belonged to Magical Britain.
Soon after the calamity, Germany had served as the rallying point for magical residents who were in other parts of the world and they gathered, as did the Queen, who had touring in South Africa at the time.
The Security Council had been called after a lighting storm in the Atlantic Ocean had caused an entire aircraft carrier disappear with all hands on-board.
Radio contact had remained with odd panicked reports of being trapped in a desert screamed over the coms in the Pentagon before all contact was lost.
The Queen didn't smile or acknowledge his words. She instead raised a finger and beckoned Charlie forward.
Charlie sighed. He had been briefed on what exactly to say. "We believe Britain is trapped in a magical field and we need your help to break the spell."
Boris Yeltsin coughed politely. The agenda today was not hunting for hope where there was none to be found. It was stabilizing the world.
The Queen scowled at him. "Breaking the spell should be our priority then."
"Forgive my interruption," interjected Jacques Chirac. The French president was sweating. There was panic and chaos in his streets and more unemployed people than ever before. A violent non directional revolution was being forced upon them. "I think our first priority should be electing a new permanent member capable of filling the void left by the UK."
"I agree," said Helmut Kohl darkly. "We need money. The economy needs to be stabilized and bringing a new country to the veto council is exactly what we need. A country that can serve as a resource pool with the potential to become an economic powerhouse with the right models of investments."
"We might need more than one new member then," Hosni Mubarak said quickly. This was turning out to be quite the opportunity. He glanced apologetically at the British contingent. "Filling the void of Great Britain will be quite difficult after all."
"I don't believe this," exploded Queen Elizabeth. "Am I really seeing such heartlessness in the wake of such a tragedy?!"
Her voice rang powerfully through the room. Old and frail it was but there was still power and command in it.
Boris laughed. "You don't have any power anymore madam," he said coldly. "You're here only as a courtesy. Your country has been wiped off the map. It doesn't exist anymore. Instead what we have is uncontrolled inflation. An economic freedom movement. Communist parties who are gaining widespread power!"
He slammed his fists on the table and glared across the room at tense faces.
"Military rule must be declared," Li Peng said calmly. "The NATO must be deployed and we are ready to deploy Chinese military all over the world to help with stabilize this crisis."
Bill scoffed. "Enough of this bullshit," he said icily. "What we need to be doing is stopping this…" He looked like it made him ill to say what he had to say next. "We have to stop this spell from spreading," he spit out.
"A US aircraft carrier disappeared far from the epicentre of this disaster. Whatever destroyed Britain is spreading. The weather is being affected and god only knows what's going to happen next. Our satellites see only an impenetrable storm over the UK and it looks like its spreading!
"What we need to be doing is to consider the possibility that this could be the end of the world and based on that assumption, decide what our next move has to be."
The president of Chile was the only magical president. The rest had representatives from their ministries of magic.
He stood up and called attention to his words. "We need to prepare a statement," said Eduardo Frei Ruiz-Tagle.
"What kind of statement?" asked Carlos Roberto Reina.
"About the existence of magic and the truth about what has happened in Britain."
"Are you crazy!" shouted Helmut. "That will create more chaos! There will be witch hunts! Does the magical world really want that?!"
Charlie tuned it all out. He didn't even want to be here. He wanted to head straight into the storm to look for his family but the Dragon crisis made him stay out. Whatever kind of magic had run wild in Britain, it had also begun to effect magical creatures all over the world.
The Dragons had grown wild and stronger than ever and broken free. All the dragon handlers over the world were in the greatest hunt of their lives. They had to hunt down and kill the magnificent beasts before they did any more damage than they had already down. Towns and cities had been burned to the ground.
Governments were working over time to cover up the destruction left in the wake of the appearance of herds of magical creatures.
And Charlie had an idea who was responsible for this descent of chaos. He blamed Dumbledore. If the man had been like every other common wizard and considered divination a waste of time, maybe this catastrophe would have never happened.
His mind strayed to the quiet and curious young boy who had strayed into his path one year ago. He had seen so much potential in him and it was all directed towards something unknown.
All he could think was the awesome force of magic that was slowly spreading out from what used to be home and hearing all these world leaders talk about money made him want to tear his hair out.
Their voices sounded like drowning men screaming for help and all they could find were other drowning men.
Suddenly a man in a suit and dark glasses walked in from the emergency exit and headed straight to Bill Clinton and whispered something in his ear.
Bill stood up. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he said, his voice calm but tense. "The lighting storm has reached over Ireland and reports are coming in that people are disappearing."
Great. Thought Charlie sarcastically. Let the apocalypse grow bigger.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Time Unknown
Albus Dumbledore had stopped counting after one hundred and fifty-five.
That many people had died around him after the calamity and since he had stopped counting many more had continued to die around him no matter how hard he tried to save them.
Losing people he cared about. He was living in his personal hell.
Dumbledore was losing his mind. He was losing hope and what was emerging terrified him. He was remembering Grindelwald and the ideals they dreamed to change the world with. He found himself agreeing with thoughts he had sworn never to agree with.
"Is this for the greater good?" he anguished.
He had failed to such an extent that he had actually become witness to the end of the world. The desert remains teased him with hope and then took it away with brutal humour. He was always the last man surviving.
He wanted to give up. He wanted to leave the people he found to their inevitable doom instead of trying to save them. But he always ended up trying and then losing. It was either the cold, or the heat, or a sand storm and even quick sand that took away his companions. Sometimes they were besieged by cannibalistic survivors and was forced either to kill the mad men and women or hear his companions scream.
He was trapped in a nightmare that was playing on repeat.
On this day, he had come across a grisly sight that itched his bile.
He had found the decaying body of what was still clearly Rita Skeeter and craved into the bones of her melting forehead was the word, Unworthy.
Dumbledore knew exactly who had done this and he had to fight his tears of failure and fury at the insanity of Harry trembled in his veins.
"I have to end this," Dumbledore whispered.
The sun burned down on him and the wind lashed particles of hot sand against his skin.
He wanted to bury the body out of respect, but something had snapped inside him. Underneath his thick skin of benevolence, the desire to feel his power explode at something tore free.
"I have to kill him," he said in a haunted voice.
Dumbledore gripped his wand and recast the healing spell over his body.
The burns and bruises melted away as he walked against the wind with one firm thought.
He had to find Harry Potter.
He calculated the steps needed for the distortion to hit and took measured steps.
The wind speed picked up as he got closer but he persisted and kept moving forward instead of stopping for shelter.
The distortion hit and the day turned night and Dumbledore found himself under a dimly lit warm sky facing a massive aircraft carrier with the words USS Michigan printing in bold black on the side.
"Where am I now?" hissed a cold voice just a few feet away from him.
Dumbledore's turned his head sharply and his eyes widened.
Standing beside him was a man he hadn't contemplated running into. His face looked more human but the features were unmistakeable.
Lord Voldemort realised someone was beside him as well and as he recognized the old man staring at him with wide, surprised eyes, he grinned with sadistic joy.
Gunfire interrupted their reunion and a masculine voice shouted in the dark. "Who goes there!"
Dumbledore and Voldemort had jumped away at the sound and drawn their wands at each other.
Dumbledore's mind spun with all sorts of thoughts as he watched the thrill of murder awaken in Voldemort's eyes. They were still the same since the first time he laid eyes on young Tom Riddle. Those eyes had haunted him when he laid eyes on eleven year old Harry Potter and now he was looking at them again.
Those blue eyes were thinking about slaughtering the muggles in the ship and Dumbledore was all that stood between them and Voldemort.
He had a choice. Watch the muggles scream or see their lives slip between his attempts to save them.
The moment passed and Dumbledore realised he never had a choice to begin with. He was always going to try to save lives. It was who he was.
"Bombarda!" he thundered and let his magic rip towards Voldemort.
Voldemort apparated and reappeared behind Dumbledore. "Avada Kedavra!"
Dumbledore's eyes went wide and then his body disintegrated and rose a few feet away from under the sand.
A golden shield surrounded him and he stood at guard as he watched Voldemort do the same.
Gunfire splattered around them again and bullets bounced off their shields.
"I asked who is there! Identify yourself!"
"It's good to see you Professor," Voldemort said with unnerving calm. His voice had changed too. He sounded human.
"Tom," Dumbledore returned stiffly.
This was not the fight he wanted but it was the one he needed.