String of Fate, Entwined.
'You have an insatiable thirst for knowledge and you've been brought up in hate and pain. You're not rash like Gryffindor and neither are you manipulative like Slytherin. You're ruled by emotions and you need to learn about emotions if you are to choose a path. The question is; are you capable of undoing the damage done to your mind or will you continue to wallow in hate and become a true monster.' - The Sorting Hat.
The Settlement, Time Unknown
Harry's conversation with the Council after he brought up Daphne was short.
At best, in between common words like Goodwill, Determination, Desire for revenge, resistance, natural-born Leader; Harry deciphered guilt rampant in most of their emotions.
Daphne had asked for help - to find him by travelling in the treacherous desert, and they had all fallen prey to their selfish desire to survive.
Sirius was the only one openly bitter about it. "It's your fault if she dies out there," he had said harshly.
It did not affect Harry. To him, it was simple, the Desert had unmasked their true selves. Everyone served their desires and the commonalities in them were what held them together.
Daphne had held them together because, deep down, she desired status, to be a leader; and was willing to go the murky mile to get there. She wanted to prove, that as numero-uno, she would be revered by her subjects, and in the Desert, she had marvellously succeeded at that.
He understood now, what he saw in her when they had created a faint bond of familiarity in the Hogwarts library.
She had left because the all-important byproduct of wealth was missing from the desert. She had come to a plateau where the power of influence and administration was dull for her.
And that was what mused Harry. Why could she not see the beauty in the Desert? It was a canvas for creation and she could have gone even further but instead, she was drawn to the past, to him, for answers that didn't exist.
"It's this way."
After agreeing to stay in the camp without causing trouble or hurting anyone who'd want to hurt him for creating the desert, the Council adjourned and Jenna volunteered to show him where he could set up shelter.
She had led him in silence, a torch in hand, her colours brewing with curiosity and a changed perspective. She wanted to say something but wasn't able to formulate a neutral opening statement.
Harry smiled. His skill at interpreting perceptions through aura had leapt forward.
"Something on your mind?" he asked, deciding to break the silence.
"You're not what I expected at all," she burst out and then blinked in slight embarrassment. "I mean, you seem rational but it boggles my mind that a rational mind could conceive this," she said with a sweep of her hands around the desert.
Harry thought about it for a moment and the answer was quite clear. "The limits of rationality are proportional to the power at your disposal."
Jenna scoffed. "That rationale is called insanity, Harry. We've all thought about this but crossing that line is a no-no. We know it's a line of no return."
"The inverse still applies," Harry replied with a shrug. "Interesting still, why do you think my reasons for creating the desert is something we've all thought about? Specifically, what do you mean we?"
"Oh, come on Harry," she laughed. "Being fed up with society? Wanting to kill uber pampered assholes who treat the gift of life like shit? Wishing to control the world and having the power to wipe it clean? Every rational being on the planet has those thoughts and dreams," she said sarcastically. "You're not as special as you think you are. You just have the power to believe you are."
Harry laughed in amusement as he understood her grievance. "You're not upset that I crossed the line. You're upset because you never found your way to that kind of power. Well, don't feel too down. This Desert is not a curse."
"Yea, it's a game. I heard you before," she grunted in annoyance.
"It's also a game where you can make your dreams come true," Harry said gently. "If you look past the ugly struggle that is. I found out the hard way. The only way to play is to shed your fears."
"Duh, that's obvious," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Magic is real. I think we all non-magical can agree it was horrifically introduced to us. Anyway, what's done is done. My point is, being rational as you are, couldn't you think of a better way of forcing evolution?"
"My perspective then was unique," Harry said quietly and subconsciously accepted that a better perspective could have been possible. "It was a direct result of the effect of my past which seems to be catching up with the present. It's almost as if my future is just a combination of a paradox."
"I guess," Jenna said thinking deeply. "And paradoxes are circumstances that you can't predict, hence can also be called the future."
"Then might you agree that insanity does not exist? Just paradoxes? If so, what does that mean for our existence and evolution?"
"Paradoxes don't usually have an answer or an end, Harry. That's why thinking in the now is important. You've been living in a dream. The real world has far more structure than you know."
They had reached the zone dedicated for new arrivals and Jenna randomly pointed at a space.
Harry wilfully chose another behind her and snapped his fingers.
A modest hut formed lazily from the sand into the shape of a hut swirling in a storm and hardened until its molecules were fused.
"Damn," whispered Jenna. She had seen magic in action only with fancy wand movements or concentrated telekinesis and physics-defying activated runes.
Harry felt the urge to show off. "This is nothing," he said with a smirk. Even though the settlement had begun to play with rudimentary runes closest to the source of magic, they had barely reached the depths he had explored.
"You mean it's bigger on the inside?" Jenna guessed. That wasn't new to her anymore.
It had not occurred to Harry to make the inside bigger. He never found the need to since a shelter was just for rest or sleep.
"No," he said with a frown and didn't elaborate.
Under the moon and starlight, Jenna looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time.
If she took away the brutal scar across his face, she would have assumed he was maybe between seventeen or nineteen in age, not much younger than her. He wasn't tall and perhaps reached a modest five feet ten, taller than her, built like a sturdy tree missing few parts and yet, exuding strength and intelligence. His eye was especially enchanting. She felt like she was being drawn into his mysterious soul.
He was mistreated and misguided. And yet he had found his way back with grace and poise despite that age the scar across his face added on.
"Are you done examining me?" Harry asked politely.
Jenna started. She hadn't realised she was staring. "Sorry," she muttered, feeling an ember of embarrassment. "Well, goodnight then," she said awkwardly.
Harry gave a small smile and a nod and turned to enter his hut.
"Harry!" Jenna called suddenly, as an idea struck her, and Harry turned around quizzically wondering what she wanted now. "Our research centre is down by the beach," she said. "We could use your help with some stuff we've been developing if you're willing."
"Maybe later," Harry said after a moment's pause. He needed time to mull all that had happened and disappeared inside.
"Oh, ok," Jenna muttered with a blink. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders as soon as he disappeared and sighed. "Daphne was right, he's too damn intense. He definitely needs to lighten up."
And she definitely wanted to pick his mind more deeply. He was the key to the door that led to unlimited power.
London, Time Unknown.
London had become a dead city of Scavengers, Daphne and Hermione soon realised, as they silently made their way through the city, towards signs of magic.
It had found a way to survive and thrive on the garbage disposed of by the witches and wizards that now inhabited Gringotts; renamed to 'Doorway to Elysium'.
Hermione and Daphne stared at the name now engraved over the scratched out Gringotts above the heavy metal doors, as the implications of what they had learnt so far filtered through their minds.
There had been a war between wizards and goblins. The goblins were beaten after the dark lord and the rebellion joined hands and together, they now lorded over the wealth of Gringotts, leaving their scraps to those without magic. To enter, the doorway had been replaced with a simple enchanted door that required the faintest grasp on magic to be opened.
"A reformed Dark Lord?" Hermione said doubtfully. They had run into some witches who walked the streets like they owned it who told them about Elysium. The new home of the magical.
"Seems to me they're all drunk on wealth and power. Gringotts was always known to harbour treasures unlike any other. Exotic meals too, judging by most of the trash around."
There were corpses around too, withered down to skeletons that cracked under their feet as they walked over them. The Desert wasted no time in consuming the dead.
A figure walked out of the shimmering doorway with a bag slung over his shoulder. It was a young man with messy bleach blonde hair; tall and had a swagger to his steps.
He leaned over the edge of the top of the steps leading to the door and chucked the bag out.
It hit the bone and sand with a crunch and Daphne looked up with shock as recognition rose clearly in her memories.
"Draco Malfoy?" she said in disbelief.
Draco was a bit hungover from the night before and he had to blink a couple of times to recognise the two women at the foot of the stairs.
"Merlin's balls!" he exclaimed. He hadn't expected them to still be alive. And of course, he recognised them easily. It was Greengrass and the Mudblood.
His eyes roved over their bodies with admiration and he grinned. "Looks like you girls survived this shit-storm without much of a fuss."
"Draco," Daphne replied evenly while Hermione recovered from her shock and glared at him with dislike. "Enjoying the spoils of victory are you?"
"Enjoying the spoils of being alive," Draco corrected with a humorous snort.
"Anyway, I know you don't like me and I'd rather be in the presence of women who do like me, so I'll keep this short. Gringotts is ours and we have some rules - every newcomer gets a thousand galleons to help set things up either above or deep below in the tunnels and from there on out you set up a trade to generate income should you wish to and pay taxes to the high council who in turn will ensure our Elysium is safe and prosperous."
"And what do you do?" Hermione asked.
Draco laughed. "I take out the trash." He gave a one hand salute and sauntered back through the enchanted door.
"What do you reckon?" Hermione asked Daphne. "I'm pretty sure we're not going to find Harry in there."
"Maybe not," Daphne muttered, her brows scrunched in thought. "But if this is the path the rebellion chose at the end, I need to see what came out of it."
"The High Council," Hermione sighed. "The name sort of gives it away doesn't it? We're heading into some form of pureblood fanaticism for sure."
"If the world survives, this place is going to be important, isn't it? We should check it out. After all, isn't what Draco said how democracy dreams?"
They walked through the enchantment and into a lavish lobby teeming with enchanted colourful fruits floating around, waiting to be plucked out of the air to be eaten and the entrances to the caves had tall booths that housed bank tellers who were dispensing gold with large happy grins.
The ceiling was no longer dome-shaped like it looked on the outside but was now the pale white interiors of a tall building whose skylight was a mere dot in their eyes. Any trace of Goblin Architecture was wiped out and replaced with Renaissance Architecture. The archways for example.
"Wow," Hermione summed up and plucked an apple out of the air. She tested it with her wand and bit into it. "Oh my god," she moaned.
Warm yellow light streamed in front of the glass panned high windows and cool air circulated through the lobby. It almost felt like they were standing in heaven after the years of toiling in the desert.
"Fucking unbelievable," Daphne scoffed. "All this wealth and all that they give the muggles outside is filth and garbage. I can't believe the rebellion has fallen to this level."
Deep within her subconscious, her ambition was stoked. This City, here, it was the ultimate prize and that fact that it was ruled by a fucking reformed dark lord and a malformed rebellion, roused the anger in her like a hungry basilisk.
"That's what war does sweetheart," a new, hardened voice interjected from their right.
Daphne and Hermione turned sharply towards the voice and recognised Mad-Eye Moody thanks to his bulging revolving artificial eye.
"Wealth is precious and limited," Moody said with a grunt. "And god knows how long we're going to be stuck here." He levelled his gaze at the two of them. "So which one of you Daphne Greengrass and which one is Hermione Granger."
"I'm Daphne," Daphne said icily. "I suppose Draco told you about us. What do you want?"
"Aye, he did," Moody said with a chuckle. "Information is currency after all."
"Can we be on our way or is there something you want Mr Moody?" Daphne repeated, this time with a little aggression.
"What I want to know," he said calmly, "is your story. How did you survive? And are you willing to join our effort to break Potter's curse and restore the world to what it was?"
Daphne smiled sweetly. "I'm happy with the way things are, thanks," she said. Hermione goggled at Daphne. "Now if you'll excuse us, we'd like to tour your Elysium."
Moody looked at them calculatingly and then stepped aside and pointed to the teller at the far end of the entrance. "That lad might help you get set up with accommodations," he said and left. He only offered once. They were now free to die however they pleased.
Hermione clenched Daphne's shoulder in anger. "What the hell Daphne? He was a link to the High Council!"
"Fuck the High Council. What we need is information or didn't you hear what he said. Now come on, I know exactly how to spend our Galleons."