The Battle
Out of Harry's hearing range, in the great hall, the inhabitants of Hogwarts had gathered to hear what the headmistress had to say.
Harry Potter's return had already begun to generate an excited buzz and everyone wanted to know what he had to say. Was it good news or bad?
There were thirty souls left in the castle. The rest had chosen to leave and had never returned.
Hermione, Tracey, Hitomi and Cedric, perched in the scenic spot that was the astronomy tower, were forming their own ideas and thoughts around the appearance of Harry.
"I had just about begun to get used the idea of living forever in Hogwarts," lamented Tracey with an amused sigh. Their group of friends had become detached from worry and paranoia behind the idea of being stuck at Hogwarts forever that infected the rest of the students and professors.
They were running wild and considered no one above them. Not even God.
Magic had become strong in Hogwarts and the power that seeped into them granted them the aura of invincibility.
Bellatrix Black's single handed assault had almost changed that and now Harry's reappearance was pulling at the seams of the delusion they had created for themselves.
Hitomi held centre stage. She was wearing her red school robes, tantalizingly split on both sides, and her dark hair was no longer neatly in a pony. It was left loose, long and combed with disinterest.
"The cage will not hold him for long," she said solemnly. Hitomi had gained utmost respect after her lightening magic managed to give them the chance to disarm and capture Bellatrix.
"Impossible," Hermione said immediately. She was seated on the floor cushions and holding Cedric's hand. "We derived that structure from his notes. He wrote it himself. The reflection rune structure is unparalleled in unpredictability of power."
The student from Mahoutokoro frowned. "You don't feel the strength of his spirit," she said. "His will is unimaginably strong."
Tracey sighed. "Explain it to me again. The whole spirit thing." She was smoking and leaning against the railing of the ledge.
Cedric responded, noticing Hitomi's scowl.
Hitomi had been irritable ever since the rest of her classmates and teacher had decided to leave Hogwarts. She had chosen to remain behind after Bellatrix Black had laid siege to Hogwarts. She would have left too but Hitomi had questions and Bellatrix was the key to getting them.
Justice was at stake for her clan.
However, the foul witch was proving difficult to break. Under the cover of secrecy, she had even resorted to torture but that only made Bellatrix scream and then laugh. No matter what she did, the witch refused to tell her why she assaulted Mahoutokoro all those years ago.
Hitomi's family above all had suffered the worst of her attack. Her clan lost grace and she was born amidst a gloom of failure and defeat.
When she was old enough to think for herself; getting answers and killing Bellatrix Black became her soul purpose in life. Nothing else mattered to her. All she cared about was vengeance.
Unfortunately, Bellatrix's amusement to her actions was not helping her.
"Mahoutokoro students don't use magic like we do," Cedric explained patiently. "They use the power of manifestation through the strength of their will power. A necessary skill in using such magic is measuring the strength of the spirit or will of things around them. Be it rocks or gods.
They match their will with the will of the object and then manipulate it's energy to bring in under their control. It's an incredible art form and unstoppable if the user's will is strong."
Tracey gave a blank stare and Hermione sighed.
"You're never going to get it Trace. We're diverting from the main issue. The question is what do we do now?"
"We kill him," Hitomi said quietly. "He is too dangerous to be left alive."
"You can't be serious!" Tracey gasped.
"We're not killer Hitomi," Cedric said disapprovingly. He looked at Hermione for affirmation and found her sporting an uncomfortable look. His relationship with Hermione had unexpectedly bloomed when he found her researching dimensional charms. She was attempting to learn about the magic of space and time and that was a subject, that Cedric himself, was passionate about.
They had bared their souls to each other in the shortest amount of time and that was why her discomfort surprised Cedric.
Hermione?" he questioned.
Hermione's thoughts were running in a different direction. Unlike the rest of them she had seen Harry's true face. She had been only eleven years old but over the years she rationalised him as what the face of a monster would look like.
There was always an innate inexplicable horror drawn out of her when she saw in Harry.
This time when she saw him, she felt like she was staring into a bright abyss that was hiding the darkness of bottom.
"Hermione?!"
Hermione started with startle. "Sorry," she said. "Hitomi's been teaching me Mahoutokoro magic and my perceptions been a bit off lately," she said shakily.
"Are you okay?"
Cedric asked with concern.
Hermione's reply drowned under the sudden boom that shook the foundations of Hogwarts.
Magic is a tool. It is perceived as the beholder desires.
….. and the tool must never take control of the wielder.
- Mahou the Mad.
The desert was alive with the scream of destructive magic and Voldemort's mind was recalling the first time he met Bellatrix Black.
Hold on.
It was strange that this clash propelling him back to a scene from his past that had redefined the structure of the wizarding world.
Hold on.
He had wanted to kill her. She had been too much of a wild card but instead he had chosen to make her his.
Hold on.
Voldemort and Dumbledore were not playing anymore. Dumbledore's expression had transformed from serene to fury. Magic thundered around him in the form of monstrous forms of transfiguration.
Voldemort was constantly on the back foot as draconic monsters shaded in red rushed at him with intent to crush. He was pouring all his power into blasting curses to destroy them but one was always replaced by two.
Gunfire erupted around them and the sand around them burst into geysers of particles. Panic was ripe among the men in the ship. They were witnessing a clash of titans.
Hold on.
Voldemort was waiting. Analysing. Trying to understand the nature of his old professor's rage. He didn't destroy his enemies with power alone. Voldemort's power lay in the depths of his cruelty. He enjoyed destroying his enemy's mind before he took their lives.
He had almost forgotten that while he wandered aimlessly in the desert. Confronted with absolute anonymity. Missing the civilization that he dreamed to rule over.
He was forced by the desert to change his pattern and instead of destroying again, he dodged and cast the spell of pain. A dark magic that warped the opponent's mind into their most feared memory. It looked like an uncontrollable stream of purple fire and was considered extremely dangerous by simple people.
Dumbledore raised a shield and with a bitter smile, deflected the fire. However, the power of the spell was enormous and he couldn't control the direction of the deflection.
He stared in horror at the direction the terrible spell roared in and could only watch as the muggle ship was engulfed in flames. Agonising screams began to echo in the desert.
Voldemort took advantage of Dumbledore's frozen state of mind and screamed "Crucio!"
Nerve racking pain tore through every nerve in the old professors body and with strength impossible he didn't scream but managed to keep his mind focused enough to apparate to escape.
He reappeared a little distance away and felt light headed as the torture curse wore off.
The desert fell silent. The crescent moon served to dimly illuminate their physical bodies.
The muggles were dead. More than ten seconds under the dark spell of pain forced the hearts of men to give out.
Dumbledore had failed to protect the weak yet again.
"Why Tom?" he whispered.
Voldemort heard just a mumble and walked closer. His feet sunk into the soft sand and he kept his wand ready for the next bout of spell fire.
He needed to summon enough strength to fight again and if Dumbledore wanted to talk, he wasn't against it.
"Why did you turn out like this?" Dumbledore said. His eyes were haunted and his shoulders hunched. There was a righteous anger inside him that building towards a reason to roar again. Roar and destroy the man before him.
"It's your fault professor," Voldemort said calmly. "Once upon a time I only desired your approval. To see those fabled kind eyes of the greatest wizard in the world. Instead all I ever saw was distrust and manipulations.
"You created me Albus."
Dumbledore scoffed. "Don't justify your debased mind with my distrust of you. I always saw you for the monster than you are."
"I only ever wanted our world to rise to the pinnacle of civilization. You, on the other hand, are an old man on a guilt trip that's forcing him to be something he's not."
Dumbledore went still and Voldemort's lips curled cruelly.
"That's right," he chuckled. "I visited Nurmengard and your old friend Gellert had some interesting stories to share."
"Don't talk about things you know nothing about Tom," Dumbledore spat.
Voldemort laughed. "It was you Albus. It was you who killed Ariana; your beloved sister. I saw it in his mind when he showed a moment of weakness."
"Look at you," Dumbledore hissed. "Taking pleasure in cruelty. It's what I saw in you when I first met you and it's what I see still. You should be glad your mother died giving birth to you. As flawed as she was, she would have been suffered if she had to raise you.
"You were born evil Tom. I was born for greatness. Don't compare me to you. You are nothing but destruction."
Voldemort felt an ice cold rage. There was still so much condescension in Dumbledore's eyes. It made him furious. He remembered his dream as a child, before the pain of living took over. It was to change the world. He wanted to make it better and along the way that pure intention was corrupted by the harsh realities of the ignored world. The world of orphans, homeless and forgotten. He had seen how revered Orion Black and Romulus Malfoy were in Hogwarts and that ignited his desire to be one of them. To not be seen as a common muggleborn.
And even after dwelling deep into the heart of magic his professor still looked down on him with contempt.
Voldemort's anger rose. And so did the dark will behind his spells. Voldemort had mastered the most traditional magic of all. Dark magic fuelled with anger.
The greater his rage the more destructive his magic became. Rage and destruction. That is what Voldemort is. And that is why he was considered the most dangerous Dark Lord's of all.
And here he was facing the self proclaimed harbinger of remorse and justice.
It pissed him off.
He screamed and every particle of sand for miles around them shot into the air with a sonic boom. With a snarl he slashed his wand at Dumbledore and he remained suspended in mid air.
"You're just a common murderer Albus!" he screamed as he dug deep into his hatred to power the curse. "You murdered you own sister and you know it!"
The sand almost the sky with fire as Dumbledore was mercilessly crushed under an unforgiving desert storm.
Suddenly Voldemort felt a threat from below him and he had to apparate and release the sand to avoid certain death. It was Dumbledore and Voldemort's eyes widened as he realised he still felt Dumbledore's magic under the mountain of sand he had spat at Dumbledore.
The ground level had gone down and suddenly Dumbledore and Voldemort found themselves staring at each other from opposite ends of a gargantuan pit. The strong winds had already starting filling the pit with sand and the aircraft carrier had long disappeared when the level of magic had escalated.
Voldemort took up and defensive position and smiled. "At long last," he said, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "Albus Dumbledore reveals the true nature of his magic. The master of illusions."
Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Are we serious yet Albus?"
Dumbledore stood still. His face devoid of emotion and eyes hardened crystals. This was the dark side of Dumbledore. The side that believed in ruthless oppression and dreamed of holding the world in his own grips. It was the man that Aberforth Dumbledore, the forgotten Dumbledore, always saw in his brother Albus. The path that it took them was towards the death of their sister Ariana. The guilt Albus felt as a result of them turned him into the forced champion holding the scales of justice. This was the man Voldemort always saw behind those blue eyes and it was the man that he feared and respected.
To see the real man out in the open again after decades reignited Voldemort's excitement. This time he was going to prove he was greater than Albus Dumbledore.
"Feel horror, Tom.," Dumbledore whispered. You're going to regret running into me in this hellish world."
Time unknown. Hogwarts Dungeons.
Harry hadn't expected to find company in the prison he was trapped in.
They were in the Potions class room and opposite him; Harry saw a feminine figure in rags curled up on the floor.
Her purple eyes glowed faintly in the low light of the cauldrons flames as they tracked his movements in his own prison.
Harry paused in his walk to observe her colours and they drew him in.
Her orange had shards of purple and white lanced in from her crown igniting chaotic explosions inside her colours. She exuded an aura that made him feel caution and a thrill of aggression.
For a moment Harry stood spellbound as he tried to understand the woman's magic.
"Well, well, well," chuckled Bellatrix Black. She was a mess of torn cloths and bruises. Her hair was burnt in places and her face gaunt.
Her purple eyes however, glowed with a purpose.
What was her purpose? Harry couldn't help but wonder when he drowned in her mystical eyes. What thought drove this woman to summon confidence and power in-spite of her terrible physical condition?
Why was she so interesting?
Bellatrix began to chuckle from her fallen position at the corner of her own personal runic cage. She didn't even have the strength to move. And yet she held confidence around her as if her current condition meant nothing.
Voldemort's right hand had been through much worse. She held no fear against her captors. They only served to amuse her.
Harry then noticed the similarities in her colours to that of Hitomi; the strange Japanese witch from Mahoutokoro. They both radiated an undercurrent of the intention to cut. While Hitomi's intent roused his interest, the woman before him roused caution and interest; a combination that was truly exciting.
Suddenly Harry grinned. "Who are you?" he asked. Who was this strange woman who captured his attention with such intensity?
Bellatrix just laughed and retreated into her foetal position on the floor.
He was not going to get any answers from her. Her aura told him that much clearly so Harry chose to turn his attention back to breaking apart the cage.
It was a smart set up, he silently acknowledged. Any wand waver would be unable to escape from the prison but he wasn't a wand waver. He had looked into the heart of magic and understood it's nature. It was cleverly designed to channel magic into a pocket dimension that would be reflected back at the user.
It was unbreakable unless the user was capable of destroying the dimension itself.
Harry grinned. The cage would be unable to hold him.
He summoned the void and pushed it against the top of the runic cage. He felt his magic being forced back against him but he focused on forcing the magic to go in circles with him as a conduit and as a result the power being generated kept increasing.
It would keep increasing until the dimension was overpowered and destroyed. The dimension was a creation of runic magic. He however commanded magic as a language. The cage stood no chance against him.
"What the fuck!" Bellatrix screamed.
Harry was crackling with energy and the sound of the pocket dimension's howl began to emit from the thinly visible bars. Watching with awe at the power the thin boy commanded made Bellatrix remember her first meeting with Lord Voldemort.
The Void tore at the fabric of reality and Bellatrix felt her conscious go dark.
December. Nineteen Seventy.
The portrait was one of blood shed and violence.
The cliff that held Mahoutokoro school of magic was strewn with bodies and death.
Yet, despite the sheer horror the school of magic was witnessing, Bellatrix Black laughed manically as her beaten body was driven away from the school by clans that survived her attempt to steal their prized possession - The Sword of Mahou the Mad. It was said to be the sharpest and deadliest blade in existence. It was a favourite target of humans who sought the ultimate power and Bellatrix was the first thief to almost lay hands on it along with several other souvenirs along the way.
"Be gone from here witch!" thundered the samurai in lead and he manipulated the earth to crush the invader to death.
Bellatrix slashed her wand with a snarl in an arc and the earth was cut apart with a boom. She slapped her hands together with her wand out straight and the air pulsed and pushed the massive rock formations at the defending forces.
The five men standing at the back of the leaders spread their arms out calmly and with a gentle upward thrust of their palm the broken land was guided into an arc before speeding towards the fleeing witch.
Bellatrix screaming in frustration as the Earth around her exploded into bits and pieces that mercilessly attacked her weakening shields.
Lightening coursed through the air and Bellatrix felt her strength fail as overpowering magic overwhelmed her senses.
Suddenly she felt her world right itself and realised she had fallen on the ground.
Her heart was pounding and her ears numb with a loud ringing sound. The ground however was smooth and still and as her sight cleared she saw walls instead of rocks.
"Am I dead?"
"Not yet."
It was then Bellatrix realised she was not on the edge of the mountain and was in a barren house instead.
She scrambled to her feet and looked around with wild eyes to curse her captor.
He was standing by the window and smiling at her. His sharp blue eyes were full of amusement.
"Tom," she spat in anger. "Why did you pull me out! I was just about to loose my full power on them!"
"You were about to be cooked alive," said Tom Riddle mildly.
"Give me another chance," she pleaded. "I got close this time and I'll get it for sure the next time!"
The sun was at noon and bright light cast his long shadow over Bellatrix who waited with baited breath, feeling her adrenaline pump and body hurt.
"No."
Bellatrix opened her mouth to protest as Tom raised a finger to quieten her. There was an unexplainable aura of dominance around him. It attracted Bellatrix to him like a bird to freedom.
"I have another proposal for you."
"Say it," huffed Bellatrix. She was a mercenary on hire and to have a failure on her record was unacceptable.
"I don't care about the sword. It was just a test to see your power with my own eyes."
"What?!" Anger flooded Bellatrix's veins and the urge to kill her client rose up like a volcano ready to erupt.
"If you chose to refuse my offer I'll still pay you and consider the contract fulfilled," he added.
This time Bellatrix quietened. Her curiosity was piqued and the bruise to her pride was temporarily soothed.
"And if you accept I'll pay you nothing yet promise you the world to be your own."
"My real name is Lord Voldemort," he began.
Bellatrix's eyes widened and Voldemort laughed softly. His eyes observed the attractive dark haired witch and mused with the idea of just eliminating her as a threat to his dream world. There was, however, something innately fascinating about her that made him hesitate. Her aura seemed to scream look and desire but dare to touch and there would be unimaginable consequences.
He felt his magic urging him to be cautious and that feeling made him decide not to kill her.
"You are the one said to have found Herpo's tomb," she said with a hush of awe.
"What I found in there will help me rule this world one day," Voldemort whispered. "And to do that I need powerful allies."
Bellatrix's eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a menacing smile. "I'm not interested in ruling the world."
"You're not interested in being part of an event that will turn the world on its head and etch our names into history?"
"That's got nothing to do with ruling the world," Bellatrix scoffed.
Voldemort stepped forward. The light seemed to meld around his tall and well aged face. His hair was black and neatly pushed to one side.
"Sooner or later there's going to be nothing that can stand in your way. And when that happens, you'll wish you had a purpose. Join my dark army, let me be your guide, and I promise, you'll never be bored."
The world held it's breath. One name was known all over as the new mercenary that all of the underworld desired. The other was mildly known as a powerful dark wizard, but it was the forging of this bond that would spell the beginning of an upheaval in political and magical power.
Bellatrix chuckled. There was something very interesting about this man, she thought. "I'll join you under one condition," she said coyly.
Voldemort waited patiently and observed the emotions reflect in her expression.
"I refuse to be part of some group that calls itself the dark army. Call it the witches dance of Walpurgis night or something and I'll join, " she said with a mischievous giggle.
The memory faded and Bellatrix's conscious returned, choked back from the darkness by the cloud of smoke and dust that had overrun the dungeons.
"It had never been about ideology," she whispered dreamily as Harry's silhouette shone through the cloud of dust. "It was just about having fun!"
The sense of freedom brought by the sudden freedom from her cage crazed Bellatrix and she lunged at Harry with a maniacal laugh.
She could feel it again.
The thrill of a revolution. The vision of a world rebuilt with the foundations of power.
So similar to the ideology of survival.
A man only understands his true self after he experiences the darkness that consumes the bottom of his soul.
-Lily Potter to Albus Dumbledore about Severus Snape
Dumbledore always thought he had experienced that when Ariana had died and found his true self as a just and peaceful man.
Instead, after all these years, he understood it was just guilt that made him that man. At the bottom, he was just a man who dreamed of ruling the world. Just like Voldemort. And that was why he secretly hated the boy before him the day he saw him.
Dumbledore had hit rock bottom.
The air around them began to shimmer as Dumbledore raised his wand above his head, held with both hands.
Voldemort closed his eyes, summoned the strongest shield he knew off and prepared himself as the light was slowly sucked out of the atmosphere.
The world was Dumbledore's illusion now. He felt death coming at him from everywhere and he summoned destructive magic and imbued it into his shield. He had to rely on pure destructive power now. This was his test to see if his power had truly exceeded the illusions and dark face of Professor Dumbledore.
He felt the magic strengthen around him and used it to fuel the power of his curse. The desert recognised they just want to destroy each other and charged the air with power.
Voldemort held his left hand and the air vibrated violently forcing Dumbledore to shield his ears. With his thrust of his wand hand, waves black magic appeared hypnotically around them and the atmosphere began to meld into a dark mist.
It was a spell designed by him to trap the enemy in nothingness.
Dumbledore had taken away his eyes. Voldemort was going to rob him of his senses.
Madness is a rare perspective on the unknowable universe. You're one of the special ones Bella.
-Tom Riddle to Bellatrix Black
Harry was caught off guard and he felt his breath escape when he was pushed against the wall by a surprisingly strong woman.
He gasped and his eyes bulged when he felt her grab him between his legs.
His hormones reacted in extremes and he wasn't able to perceive what was happening. His body began to heat as he felt her body press up against him.
Bellatrix looked deep into his shocked eyes and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
"We humans," she murmured, "are brutal creatures. To hide from that truth we bury ourselves in good deeds and delusions of healing the world."
Suddenly she released him and stumbled back with a chuckle.
"I'm grateful to you," she said with a bark of a laugh. "This world you've created! The possibilities are so limitless that it's making my head spin!" Bellatrix doubled over and slapped her knees while laughing uncontrollably. She was speaking in gasps and tears of hysterical insanity began to down her cheeks.
Harry was left breathless after the sudden encounter and control returned to his body along with a heat of a strange hunger he remembered experiencing once before.
His breath came with a shudder and he pulled at the Void when rage, embarrassment and humiliation at almost being killed because of losing focus rose up in him. But when he looked into her eyes and saw the craziness they reflected, he stopped. He recognized those eyes. He felt like, suddenly, he was looking in a mirror.
"I'll take my leave now," she chuckled. "Let's meet again sometime sweetie!" she crowed and backed away into the dust and smoke that lay beyond the gaping hole in the side of the castle.
Just like that, she was gone.
She had, however, left a lasting impression on Harry just like so many before him.
Dust fell from the ceiling when an after shock from the shifting foundations spread through the castle.
Harry felt his breathing and heart beat return to normal and he tried to breakdown what occurred in the last ten seconds.
He was alone in the dungeons. The lady was not there. Had he imagined it all?
No!
The madness he saw was not his. It was a woman. A mystical crazy woman who radiated indomitable power.
Harry scowled when he finally got to understanding how she had taken him by surprise.
She had used her sexuality against him physically.
Harry took a deep breath to calm his sexual energies and his mind returned to the present.
He had been trapped by some pathetic excuses of witches and wizards after returning to Hogwarts. He had gained a wonderful hold on sanity and felt his thoughts make better sense than before.
Then he had met a crazy lady who had almost thrown away his handle on sanity.
Magic it seemed… still held surprises for him.
He grinned. He looked forward to seeing her again.
Time Unknown. The Desert.
The sun beat down and wind carried coarse particles of sand towards the endless dunes over the horizon.
Nothing was different. Nothing had changed. A gargantuan battle had taken place in the spot and what remained was the desert that slowly buried two bodies under its unforgiving sand.
A distortion shimmered between them and one of the bodies disappeared.
Dumbledore got up with a gasp and the first thing he realized was that he could not feel his left arm. His body ached. He was not channelling magic anymore and his body was feeling its withdrawal fiercely.
Taking slow and shallow breaths, Dumbledore gently arranged himself into a half seated position and looked around.
He was alone.
If it weren't for the obvious pain of using powerful magic in a battle, Dumbledore would have thought the entire night was a hallucination.
He had fought with Tom and… ….? He remembered striking his enemy with a split second illusion of grandeur that distracted Tom long enough for him to stab him in the chest with a piercing curse.
Had it been enough to finally kill him?
Exhaustion had taken him away after that and when he woke the desert had already taken either him or Tom away. The scenery looked the same no matter where he went.
It almost felt like the encounter had been the desert's will.
It gave him what he needed to survive. It made him remember who he really was under all the illusions and masks. He was a man who dreamed to rise to the pinnacle of magical learning. Sure his path had fallen and risen too many times to count but at the darkest corner of his soul he learnt something that he had fought against for decades.
I am a good man.
He had hit rock bottom and found himself rising with a guiltless soul.
"Lily," he whispered, remembering her words.
"I'm done," he whispered into the wind. "I can't fight anymore. I just want to die in peace."
"I'm so sorry for what I did to Harry. Please forgive me."
He slowly laid back down and closed his eyes.
"Forgive me," he whispered.
He felt the desert slowly bury him and did nothing to stop it.
"Forgive me."
Dumbledore felt his soul evolve and he let go.