Decisions
First September, Nineteen Ninety Six, Avalon.
"Thanks," he said and slid off the chair. He headed towards the open entrance which was now bright with light and stepped into the streets of Avalon.
It was busier than he expected.
The fog had cleared and the sun shone through a clear blue sky. The roads were extensive and buildings of all forms are architecture neatly lined up on either side disappearing through the horizons. He looked at the sun and then at the one side that was the start of the forest. The forest lay South. Did it matter? he wondered.
Symmetry felt important in the magic of Avalon. He deduced the entrance to the Badlands must be North.
He walked past the Tibetan Monastery, across a Shiva Temple and under the arching stone building with the name Armistice Keep engraved in big bold letters above the metal entrance.
There were dozens of strangely dressed folk walking in and out of all the structures he could see. He saw the Succubi mingling in the sparse crowd, looking for prey.
All of them radiated immense power. The Monks, the Pandits, the Swordsmen, the Shinto Priests; all dressed in traditional robes, keeping to themselves but creating an aura of caution around them.
They were all here for a purpose, Harry realised. And it definitely had something to do with the Badlands.
His excitement grew and he stopped in front of a grey building named Dany's Hotel. It had no windows that he could see and just a single metal door in its raw form that radiated with words of rules and punishment.
He didn't feel like resting, he wanted to explore. But his body chose that moment to force a yawn and he decided it was wiser to be completely rested.
It had been a long journey so far. Almost four years long, he now realised. The length of it was hitting him now. He needed a calm before the final storm.
Time Unknown, Gringotts.
Deep within Gringotts, an ancient secret was kept. Known only to those with Goblin blood and sworn to secrecy bound by magic.
It was a mysterious cavern in the oldest sections of the Gringotts tunnels easily spanning ten Quidditch fields wide and fifty fields high. A small opening in the stone lay at the bottom of the chamber with rail tracks peeking out.
The walls were peppered with glowing runes that bathed the cavern in white light.
This was where the Warrior Goblins regenerated after death. This was the secret behind the long age of their leaders and champions. And abnormal numbers.
Half breeds were forbidden from learning these secrets but there was one who conquered all and did.
Filius Flitwick felt his consciousness return as his body reformed in the centre of the chamber.
Life returned to him with a deep gasp and heavy, mind numbing, breathing.
He felt himself fall on the stone floor and rolled onto his back with a groan.
The memory of almost dying was fresh. He almost hadn't activated the rebirth enchantment in time.
He slowly stood up, stretched his short limbs and cracked his neck with a grimace. He had never imagined he would return to this hell and didn't waste any time heading to the exit. He had to return to Hogwarts. He prayed it wasn't too late.
He tiredly walked to the rails were a cart was waiting for him and climbed in with a deep sigh. The other side was going to be one battle challenge after the other. Such was the way Goblins who regenerated in the cavern were greeted. They had to prove their worth for being granted a next life.
To his surprise once past the narrow dark tunnel, the hundreds of tunnels leading away from the small station were empty. All the weapons were gone too.
Dread grew in him.
There was only one reason all the battle Goblins would rise to the surface. A war for existence was underway.
Flitwick mentally guided the cart to the weapons room some three clicks through dozens of tunnels rising up and was thankful to see that the stash was not completely depleted. He picked out a robe and a dagger. His magic was still recovering but it wasn't gone to an extent where he could no longer fight.
The time had come. He had to choose a side.
Time Unknown, London
Tom Riddle, clad in a brown trench coat jacket stolen from a fresh starved corpse he had come across, walked through the burning sands of London under a scorching sun towards the sounds of battle.
He could here the screams, clanging of weapons and explosions.
He climbed over high ground and inhaled sharply at the breath taking sight before him.
The white dome of Gringotts had majestically opened into levels of levitating circular barriers under the bright blue sky, streaked with strange distortions of colours winking in and out of reality... or was it all a fantasy? From behind the smooth white walls floating high, countless of Goblins, clad in armour were using their weapons to bombard the few hundred remaining humans surrounding the Bank they believed was their salvation.
A small section of the lower level wall was broken and a fierce battle between muggles with machine guns and axe wielding goblins was raging.
It looked like a pile of bodies rushing toward it with death riding beside them.
Voldemort wondered if he should join the battle and turn the tide.
His magic had strengthened and he still had his wand. It was all he needed.
The circle of wizards at the back of the squads of men and women did their best to shield the fighters from the bombardment but their efforts were failing.
The dead were everywhere. It's stench couldn't go unnoticed even with spells.
Voldemort smiled. He hated Goblins. This would be his sweet revenge.
He raised his remaining arm with wand held firm and began to chant in the ancient tongue of Avalon. Necromancy was his forte and he remembered having recurrent dreams in his youth of razing Gringotts to the ground with an army of inferi.
Ironically, he owed his dreams coming true, to Harry Potter. The boy who had stripped them all away. Battling Dumbledore had filled him with a thrill he had forgotten.
A chill began to rise from the dead. The living noticed. Goblins and Humans, both pulled back their lust for battle and death.
The bodies began to twitch and they all watched with equal horror as their dead friends began to rise despite being mutilated beyond recognition.
An explosion erupted from within Gringotts and a section of another low level wall was blown apart.
The dead Goblins joined Voldemort's army and the Rebellion watched with incredulous expressions as Professor Filius Flitwick emerged from the smoke of the explosion and the dead began to charge at the recovering Goblins.
"Well don't just stand like idiots," Mad Eye Moody roared. "FORWARD TO VICTORY!"
The Living and the Dead renewed their assault with renewed spirit. From the high ground Voldemort laughed. His laugh high pitched and cruel.
He was beginning to enjoy himself.
Inside the Bank, Branch Manager Ragnok and his squads of Dark Goblins cracked their muscles. The walls had been breached.
Time Unknown, The Settlement by the Sea.
Snape was leaving the Camp. He had been well rested, had learnt enough about the Desert and now it was time to look for Albus. He was their only hope.
A few of them were having a good bye bonfire for him. Being stoic, emotionless, irritable and good with dark magic had made an impression on certain people.
It was dark. Half a dozen patronuses patrolled the sea line, their distinct shape and light made more pronounced by the full moon night.
"You should wait," Daphne said sharply. She was not happy about Snape leaving. He could be a valuable asset when they went after Harry. "Arthur's team almost figured out how to navigate through the distortions. We can go as a team to find Dumbledore."
Snape scoffed. "You're after Harry. You want revenge. I want to find Dumbledore because that's what I need. If we went together into the Desert, navigational tool or not, we'd be lost. If you haven't figured it out, the desert is more than just a maze. It takes you through a maze in your own mind," he whispered.
"Stop being dramatic Snape," Hermione cut in drily. Being safe had brought her confidence back and she was firmly in sync with Daphne's desire. She wanted revenge. She wanted to see Harry defeated.
Snape scowled and Daphne grinned. "I'm not after revenge. I want to find him so that he can end this stupid curse."
Sirius barked a laugh. "If you think you can reason with Harry you're insane."
"You don't know him like I do. I know how to get through to him."
"You're being stupid," a young voice cut in. It belonged to a boy named Jack. He was dressed in army gear and had a rifle strapped around his shoulder and a belt filled with bullets. He was a hard core fan of Pulp Fiction and in the presence of the desert, had gained the ability to use magic through runes.
Snape had shown him how to make bullets using runes through which transfiguration had evolved after being pestered by Jack for days.
"It's my decision," Snape said firmly.
"Fine," Daphne huffed. "Don't get all rigid. Just let it be known that I agree with the kid. You're being stupid."
The group fell into silence. Daphne sat down by the fire and poked at flames with her newly made wand. Turn out Dementors had some uses after all. They had managed to capture a few and Arthur's research team with the addition of Oliver; Ollivander's apprentice, a survivor of the battle in Diagon Alley, managed to discover many interesting facts about magic.
Snape was the first to finish his fire whiskey. A survivor from Hogsmeade had found her way to the settlement with a bottomless and weightless bag filled with supplies.
"Well," he said after tossing his bottle aside. "Thanks for the whiskey. I'll be leaving at first light."
Snape then gave a half hearted wave. "Black," he called. Sirius turned away from his mangled sand art. "Get over yourself and find Potter. You're his guardian. You're responsible for him." Sirius gaped at him and before he could think of a retort, Snape was already out of hearing distance. No one was surprised. None of them had expected him to stay longer than twenty minutes anyway.
"It's no one's fault," Arthur commented quietly. "No one could have predicted this."
Sirius scoffed. "If you ever meet Dursley then you'd have predicted this from any magical child under his roof."
Hermione stared. Child abuse. The hint was clear enough. "Why didn't you take him away?"
"I had James and Lily to look after," Sirius explained. "Dumbledore and I had worked out a deal to take him when he turned eleven and instead we weren't there when he needed us."
His expression turned chilled.
"No one knows but we examined Dursley's kid's mind. What we found in there, what they did to Harry. It's no wonder he murdered them. We had to modify his memory to erase Harry's presence from that world after he left the juvenile home."
Daphne's heart twisted. Outward, her expression turned to disgust. "Snape's wrong. I'm not after revenge. I just want to talk to him."
"You want to risk your life for that? A conversation with a psychopath?" Oliver, Ollivander's apprentice, said acidly. "You should stay and contribute to turning this settlement into a worthy stronghold, capable of defending itself and sustaining itself. We're making so much progress. This is our new start!"
Daphne didn't say anything. None of them would understand. "Don't worry about it now. We still have time. We're not prepared enough. How's the weapons development going Jenna?"
Jenna was a muggle scientist working at an private R&D firm before the desert tore her life apart. "Hermione has helped tremendously with her knowledge of runes and everyday we get closer to deciphering the runes in the sky. They're what's powering this whole curse. We're trying to figure out how to neutralise it as well." At night the magic in the sky was cold and cut throat. Any one travelling at night was at immediate risk of hypothermia and death.
"We should go back," Arthur said. "It's getting late and the dementors aren't going to stay idle much longer.
Azkaban had come into their line of sight.
Before finding Harry, they had to first take Azkaban. The castle; free from evil soul sucking creatures would go a long way towards their survival. They had developed ways of fighting the creatures when the attacks on the camp rose from three a night to ten a night. And now, they were ready to take them on and drive them away.
"Right," everyone muttered. It was getting cold as well. They didn't want to be stuck out in an unexpected frozen sand storm. It had happened once and they had lost about a dozen of their weak.
"I'm going to the R&D centre," Hermione said. She had Harry's diary clutched in her palm.
Arthur, Daphne and Oliver went along with her as the rest dispersed to their huts and tents.
They all had poured over Harry's notes and had not even come close to understanding twenty percent of what was scribbled in there.
Daphne stared at the full moon as they walked on silently.
She couldn't live like this anymore. The restlessness was too strong now that she knew Harry was alive and had taken over Hogwarts.
Come what may, she was going to make it to Hogwarts. She had made up her mind.