Chapter 89 "Gilded Goblet"
Harry Potter sat in the dimly lit barracks, meticulously cleaning his gear with a practiced hand. The metallic sheen of his spell blade reflected the flickering candlelight, and his thoughts were lost in the rhythmic sway of the cloth against the hilt. The door creaked open, revealing Steelbane, Stoneheart, and Darkstone, his three sergeants who stood with purpose.
" Spellblade," one of them barked, "time to take a break. We're heading to the Gilded Goblet. It's Goblin Night."
"Gilded Goblet?" Spellblade questioned, setting aside his gear. He looked at them in confusion. "Is there a pub here? I didn't know—"
The other sergeant interrupted with a chuckle, "Where do you think all that Firebrand Brew comes from, eh? Follow us."
The four of them made their way through the labyrinthine corridors of the goblin bank. They reached a concealed entrance. The sergeants exchanged a knowing glance before pushing the door open, revealing a raucous scene beyond.
As they entered the Gilded Goblet, the unmistakable sounds of goblin revelry filled the air. The acrid scent of Firebrand Brew hit Spellblade, and he could see the goblins raising tankards high, celebrating their victory over the greenskin invaders. The noise level rose to a crescendo as Thrain's presence was noticed.
The goblins fell into an abrupt silence. Their eyes fixated on the famed Champion in their midst. Then, as if on cue, a chant erupted: "Spellblade! Spellblade!"
A tankard of frothy Goblin Gold Ale was thrust into Thrain's hand, and the goblins roared in unison, "Drink, drink, drink!"
Thrain, caught off guard by the sudden attention, couldn't help but smile. He raised the tankard, reciprocating their enthusiasm, and drank it dry. The goblins roared in approval; the Gilded Goblet, a name befitting the glittering spectacle of goblin revelry, came alive with renewed energy as the celebration resumed around the goblin champion Spellblade.
The Goblin's band picked up, and a hearty song roared through the crowd. All the goblins began to sing with the band:
(Verse 1) In the heart of the mountain, where shadows dance, Goblins gather underneath the moon's enchanting glance. Tankards high, filled with ale so bold, In the Gilded Goblet, tales untold.
(Chorus) Raise your tankards, and let the spirits flow. In the firelight's glow, we'll let the laughter grow. Goblin kindred, a raucous cheer, As we sing the song of the Goblin's cheer.
(Verse 2) Firebrand Brew is a fiery delight, bubbling in the cauldron through the night. Goblets clink as the stories spin in the Gilded Goblet, where the revelry begins.
(Chorus) Raise your tankards, and let the spirits flow. In the firelight's glow, we'll let the laughter grow. Goblin kindred, a raucous cheer, As we sing the song of the Goblin's cheer.
(Bridge) Goblin hearts beat in a wild craze under the mountain's ancient gaze—spell blades shimmer, a magic brew, In the Gilded Goblet, where dreams come true.
(Verse 3) Goblin voices, a chorus loud, Echo through the cavern, proud. As the night unfolds, Tankards clatter in the Gilded Goblet, where the Goblin story is told.
(Chorus) Raise your tankards, and let the spirits flow. In the firelight's glow, we'll let the laughter grow. Goblin kindred, a raucous cheer, As we sing the song of the Goblin's cheer.
(Outro) So here's to the Gilded Goblet, forevermore, Where goblins gather on the cavern floor. In the heart of the mountain, the song takes flight As we toast to the Goblet on the magic night.
Thrain Joined in the song and laughed. When the song finished, Thrain heard a hearty laugh that sounded like a forge bellows. That was a wee good song, lads, a deep, mountainous voice bellowed out. A dwarf curse breaker named Durgan Thunderbeard stood tall, his weathered face etched with the tales of countless adventures.
As the goblins raised their tankards in a spontaneous toast, Durgan couldn't help but chuckle heartily. "Aye, that's a wee good song, lads!" he exclaimed, his deep voice resonating through the cavernous pub. "But let me show you how a true son of the mountain spins a tale!"
With a twinkle in his eye, another dwarf from Durgan's party, a stout figure with a braided beard, stepped forward. He cleared his throat and began to sing, his voice as robust as the clang of a hammer against an anvil.
(Verse 1) In the heart of the stone, where the gold gleams bright, Dwarves stand tall, ready for the fight. With pickaxe and hammer, in tunnels, we delve Into the deep mountain's embrace, where secrets dwell.
(Chorus) Hoist the tankards, let the spirits flow, In the Gilded Goblet, where stories grow. Aye, we're sons of the mountain, bold and true, In the Gilded Goblet, where the ale like dew.
(Verse 2) Through dark caverns and deep tunnels, we break the curses that creep in the shadows. Goblins cheer, their mugs held high, In the Gilded Goblet underneath the starry sky.
(Chorus) Hoist the tankards, let the spirits flow, In the Gilded Goblet, where stories grow. Aye, we're sons of the mountain, bold and true, In the Gilded Goblet, where the ales like dew.
(Bridge) With every swing of the pick and every stone we turn, Dwarven hearts in the mountain burn. We carve through the darkness in the Gilded Goblet, where we'll stay.
(Verse 3) So here's to the curses we've laid to rest In the mountain's embrace, where we're at our best. Gilded Goblet, hear our song. In dwarven kinship, we all belong.
(Chorus) Hoist the tankards, let the spirits flow, In the Gilded Goblet, where stories grow. Aye, we're sons of the mountain, bold and true, In the Gilded Goblet, where the ales like dew.
The Gilded Goblet resounded with the harmonious melody of the dwarven song, and the goblins, initially surprised, soon joined in the celebration. The pub transformed into a magical tapestry of camaraderie.
Durgan Thunderbeard, known for his bold spirit and love for a good challenge, eyed Thrain Spellblade across the lively Gilded Goblet. The atmosphere echoed with the tales of the night's revelry, and Durgan couldn't resist the urge to test the renowned Champion's mettle.
With a mischievous glint in his eye, he raised his tankard high and boomed, "Thrain Spellblade! You've proven your skill on the battlefield, but can your voice match the thunderous roar of a dwarven challenge? Let's see if you can weave a song that can rival the strength of your blade." The Gilded Goblet fell silent momentarily, all eyes turning to Thrain as the gauntlet of song was thrown. Thrain, never one to shy away, met Durgan's gaze with a twinkle of amusement, ready to accept the musical challenge laid before him.
Thrain, known for his tempestuous prowess on the battlefield, grinned at Durgan. "Aye, Thunderbeard, I'll meet your challenge. But first, let me brew a song as potent as the strongest ale."
With a dramatic flourish, Thrain retreated momentarily, a gleam of mischief in his eye. The Gilded Goblet hushed in anticipation, and the Thunderbeard dwarves and goblins eagerly awaited the response.
Thrain returned, his voice resonating through the cavernous pub, weaving a tale of war where dwarves, men, and goblins fought side by side.
(Verse 1) In the heart of battle, 'neath the mountain's might, Dwarves and men, goblins unite. A tempest on the field, blades shining bright. Together, we stand in the heat of the fight.
(Chorus) Raise your tankards, and let the spirits flow In the Gilded Goblet, where alliances grow. Warriors united in friendship and kin in the battle clash, where victories begin.
(Verse 2) Dwarven hammers, a thunderous roar, Human swords, swift as the Griffon soar. Goblin cunning, in shadows they creep, In the dance of war, our bonds run deep.
(Chorus) Raise your tankards, and let the spirits flow In the Gilded Goblet, where alliances grow. Warriors united in friendship and kin in the battle clash, where victories begin.
(Bridge) We stand unyielding through the storm of arrows and the clash of steel, our foes to repeal. Side by side, we face the night. In the Gilded Goblet, our spirits take flight.
(Verse 3) Dwarves and men, goblins in array, On the battlefield, where the shadows play. A tale of war, written in the scars we bear, In the Gilded Goblet, a bond we share.
(Chorus) Raise your tankards, and let the spirits flow In the Gilded Goblet, where alliances grow. Warriors united in friendship and kin in the battle clash, where victories begin.
As Thrain Spellblade's hauntingly sweet voice faded, the Gilded Goblet erupted in cheers. Dwarves, men, and goblins alike raised their tankards in a toast to the unbreakable bonds forged in the crucible of war.
Durgan Thunderbeard, with a gracious nod, acknowledged the defeat with a hearty smile. "Well fought, Thrain Spellblade! Your songcraft matches your prowess on the battlefield. A golden goblet for the victorious bard!"
He walked over, presenting the gleaming Goblet to Thrain with a gesture of respect. The dwarven and Goblin onlookers applauded, appreciating the camaraderie between the two formidable warriors.
Thrain, accepting the golden Goblet, raised it high in acknowledgment. "Aye, Thunderbeard, a hard-fought contest indeed. Let the Gilded Goblet bear witness to our camaraderie!"
The two warriors clasped hands in the traditional warrior fashion, sealing their respect for each other's skills. Durgan grinned, "Drinks are on me, Thrain Spellblade! May the next battle be as fierce as our songs tonight."
As the Gilded Goblet reverberated with the sounds of celebration, the dwarves and goblins raised their tankards in a toast to the bond forged in battle and song. The echoes of their victory and unity resonated through the cavernous pub, a testament to the enduring spirit of friendship among warriors.
Chapter 90 "Messages"
Thrain stands at the threshold of leaving the sanctuary of Gringotts. Before his departure, he stops to see his accountant, Griphook. The fierce goblin glances up as Thrain enters.
"Can I help you, Thrain?" Griphook inquires.
"Yes, I need you to deliver these documents to Director Bones personally," Harry replies, handing over a stack of scrolls.
Griphook studies the contents with curiosity. "Interesting. Are you sure?" he asks, receiving the last scroll.
Harry chuckles. "Absolutely. And this one is for you. I'd like you to arrange a press conference and announce this."
Griphook's eyes flick across the scroll, and he grins. "I'll be delighted to perform this service—for a small fee."
Thrain joins in the laughter. "Of course," he agrees.
Thrain gestures to a group of guards. "These three will accompany you on your way." Griphook follows Thrain's gaze and sees Sergeants Steelbane, Stoneheart, and Darkstone standing with Harry.
"We're doing this for your account manager, not because we like you, Thrain," Stoneheart quips, and they laugh heartily. Griphook nods in acknowledgment.
"Before you go, Harry, I must bring something to your attention," Griphook states.
Griphook leans forward, his sharp eyes fixed on Hadrian. "Mr. Potter, I have uncovered a piece of your identity that might shock you. Your real name is not Harry; it is Hadrian James Potter."
Hadrian's eyes widen, disbelief etched on his face. "What do you mean, my real name? Harry has been my name since I can remember."
Griphook nods, "As your account manager, I delve into the wreckage of your parents' house, turned memorial, and discover vital documents sealed by magical wards. The Ministry overlooks these belongings. Among them, your true birth certificate reveals your real name as Hadrian James Potter."
Hadrian shakes his head, processing the revelation. "But everyone, even Sirius, calls me Harry. How could he not know my real name?"
Griphook explains, "It seems using 'Harry' was customary among close family and friends. Lord Black was as surprised as anyone to learn the truth. However, now that you have assumed the titles of Heir of Potters and Blacks, we need to address this matter. With your permission, I propose releasing an article in the Daily Prophet announcing your real name and specifying that 'Harry' is reserved for friends and family."
Hadrian takes a moment to absorb the information. "So, I've been living with a name that wasn't mine all along. It's strange, unsettling."
Griphook nods, "It is indeed a peculiar revelation. But names hold power, and asserting your true identity is essential now that you've embraced your heritage. This article will help in establishing the distinction."
Hadrian sighs, "Alright, Griphook. Let's do it. Release the article. I want the wizarding world to know who I truly am."
Griphook gives a respectful nod, "Very well, Mr. Potter. I will proceed accordingly. This change will undoubtedly stir discussions, but it's a step toward claiming your rightful place."
As the decision hangs in the air, Hadrian can't help but feel the weight of his proper name settling on his shoulders, signaling a shift in the narrative of his life.
Chapter 91 "The Gathering of Distinguished Minds"
The Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a testament to the magical world's grandeur. Its enchanted ceiling stretches impossibly high, mimicking a starry night sky that twinkles with ethereal light. This hall hosts a momentous occasion tonight—the Hogwarts Board of Governors gathering, an assembly of individuals chosen for their exceptional contributions to the magical community.
As the appointed time nears, board members arrive one by one, their presence infusing the hall with profound importance. Lady Roxanne Greengrass, an embodiment of aristocratic beauty with silver-blonde hair, graces the gathering. Her dignified composure as she sits represents her esteemed noble house and the traditions it upholds.
Close by, Grace Davis enters with a commanding presence that demands attention. Her figure, endowed with curves and a distinctive charm, radiates confidence as she settles into her place, the room.
Amelia Bones, the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, strides in with authority and purpose. Her long, fiery red hair flows like a flame as she assumes her position.
Augusta Longbottom, known for her wisdom and fiery temper, moves quietly as she sits.
With his unruly hair reflecting ceaseless curiosity and innovation, Arthur Weasley brings energy and discovery to the gathering.
Amos Diggory, recognized for his unwavering sense of justice and integrity, sits beside the Author.
Gwen Jones, the accomplished Quidditch captain, contributes a unique perspective with her impressive background in the fiercely competitive sport. Her position as a leader hints at her ability to inspire and lead.
Isabella Turner, a fearless Curse Breaker with unwavering determination, arrives with a strong, athletic build hinting at the demanding nature of her profession. Scars on her tanned skin testify to her harrowing encounters with cursed objects.
Amelia Mitchell, a young and free-spirited artist, enters with chestnut hair adorned with colorful ribbons and beads. Her expressive green eyes seem to channel the entire spectrum of human emotions.
The seasoned book collector, Eleanor Whitman, arrives with an air of wisdom and sophistication. Her short, silver hair and vintage attire reflect her love for everything old and valuable.
The elegant fashion designer Sophia Delacroix graces the entrance with her exquisite taste and style. Her slender figure and chic bun highlight her keen eye for aesthetics.
Charlotte Bennett, dressed in a flowing gown that mirrors the night sky's hues, Charlotte confidently steps out of the carriage. Her chestnut hair fell in loose waves, catching the moonlight as she walked toward the entrance, a beacon of elegance against the ancient stone walls.
The final board member, Narcissa Malfoy, surprises everyone as she arrives. The elegant sweep of her blonde hair and the grace in her every movement reflect her aristocratic upbringing.
As they take their seats, the stage is set for a momentous occasion—the taking of the oath of governors and the beginning of their collective journey in guiding the future of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Amidst the buzz and excitement of the gathering, Roxanne Greengrass and Grace Davis find themselves sitting near each other in the Great Hall.
Her regal presence exuding from her aristocratic beauty and silver-blonde hair, Roxanne leans in to share her observation with Grace, "Grace, have you noticed something rather intriguing about our fellow Governors this evening?"
Grace, known for her keen eye for detail and observant nature, furrows her brow slightly in thought. "You mean that most of them are witches, not wizards?"
Roxanne nods, her striking blue eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Exactly. What strikes me as remarkable is that witches, especially in this age, are often more involved in their children's education than their husbands are. But it's always been wizards who sat at the board, not witches. It's quite a powerful shift in dynamics and priorities."
Grace responds, "You're right, Roxanne.
With silver-blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, Roxanne Greengrass stands and addresses the group. "Welcome, esteemed colleagues. I am Lady Roxanne Greengrass, honored to represent the noble Greengrass house. May our collaboration bring prosperity to Hogwarts."
Grace Davis, exuding confidence, chimes in, "Grace Davis here, bringing charm and a commitment to nurturing the next generation. Excited to work alongside you all."
Amelia Bones, the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, nods with authority. "Amelia Bones, Hogwarts' safety is paramount, and I'm here to uphold it."
Augusta Longbottom, known for wisdom, smiles warmly. "Augusta Longbottom, offering insights cultivated through years of magical study. Delighted to contribute to Hogwarts' legacy."
Arthur Weasley, the enthusiast for Muggle contraptions, adds, "Arthur Weasley is fascinated by both magic and Muggle innovations. Let's embrace the wonders of both worlds."
Amos Diggory, the beacon of justice, speaks solemnly, "Amos Diggory. I stand for justice and fairness. Hogwarts will thrive under our collective guidance."
Gwen Jones, the Quidditch captain, grins. "Gwen Jones, leading on the Quidditch pitch and ready to bring that same fervor to the boardroom."
Isabella Turner, the fearless Curse Breaker, steps forward. "Isabella Turner, protector of magical artifacts. Let's ensure Hogwarts remains a sanctuary for knowledge."
Amelia Mitchell, the free-spirited artist, adds color to the conversation. "Amelia Mitchell is infusing Hogwarts with creativity and imagination. Let our journey be a masterpiece."
Eleanor Whitman, the book collector, shares her love for knowledge. "Eleanor Whitman, guardian of ancient texts. Hogwarts' history is in safe hands."
Charlotte Bennett, the poised writer, contributes her literary touch. "Charlotte Bennett, weaving tales and wisdom through words. Hogwarts' story will be richer with each chapter."
Sophia Delacroix, the fashion designer, adds sophistication. "Sophia Delacroix is bringing elegance and style to Hogwarts. Our legacy will be as timeless as my designs."
Narcissa Malfoy, the final arrival, speaks with aristocratic grace. "Narcissa Malfoy, joining this esteemed assembly. Hogwarts' future is of utmost importance to us all."
Chapter 92 "The Gathering of Distinguished Minds Part 2"
Distinguished educators who have dedicated their lives to the pursuit of magical knowledge gather to witness the solemn oath-taking ceremony of the newly appointed Board of Governors. The enchanted ceiling above casts a celestial glow, setting the stage for a momentous occasion.
The professors, clad in their respective academic robes, enter the Great Hall in a procession that reflects the diversity of magical disciplines within Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration expert, leads the way with her stern but dignified demeanor.
Following closely behind is Professor Flitwick, the Charms master, his cheerful countenance and small stature belying his immense magical expertise. His wand, an extension of his very being, is tucked into his robes, ready for any mystical nuances that may unfold during the ceremony.
Professor Sprout, the Herbology professor, enters with an air of grounded wisdom. A sprig of lavender adorns her robes, a nod to her deep connection with magical flora. Her presence exudes the scent of earth and growing things.
The imposing figure of Professor Snape, The new defense against the dark arts Professor, glides into the hall with calculated precision. His dark robes billow behind him as he takes his place, a silent guardian of the magical arts, his sharp gaze observing every nuance.
Professor Slughorn, the esteemed Potions professor, joins the procession with a genial smile, his rotund form radiating a love for the finer things in life. His collection of potion ingredients, carefully arranged in his voluminous pockets, jingles softly as he walks.
Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds, ambles in with a gentle smile, his giant form towering over the other professors. His love for magical creatures is evident in the twinkle of his eyes, so he takes his place among his esteemed colleagues.
As the professors find their seats, a hushed murmur of anticipation fills the air. The magical beings that have shaped the minds of countless witches and wizards now gather to witness the next chapter in Hogwarts' history.
The professors exchange nods and glances, acknowledging the significance of the moment. The oaths to be taken tonight will resonate through the very foundations of Hogwarts, a place where magic and knowledge converge. The Great Hall, steeped in centuries of enchantment, stands witness to the convergence of past, present, and future as the Board of Governors prepares to guide Hogwarts into a new era.
Top of Form
The grand doors at the end swing open, revealing the venerable figure of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.
Dumbledore steps into the Great Hall, a towering presence of wisdom and whimsy. His long, flowing robes, adorned with twinkling stars and moons, echo the celestial charm of the enchanted ceiling above. The hall seems to brighten as he approaches the central dais, his long white beard swaying with each measured step.
The Headmaster's piercing blue eyes, filled with a knowing twinkle, survey the gathered assembly. His gaze holds a profound understanding of the magical world and the responsibilities of guiding Hogwarts. The warmth in his eyes, coupled with the aura of ancient magic surrounding him, evokes a sense of reassurance among those present.
The professors rise in unison as Dumbledore ascends the dais, a sign of respect for the venerable wizard who has steered Hogwarts through tranquility and turmoil. He raises his hands, and a gentle hush falls over the Great Hall.
"Esteemed professors, distinguished guests, and, most importantly, our newly appointed Board of Governors," Dumbledore begins, his voice carrying a soothing cadence that resonates throughout the hall. "Tonight, we stand at the convergence of knowledge and destiny. Hogwarts, a beacon of magical education, continues to evolve under the watchful eyes and guiding hands of those entrusted with its stewardship."
He pauses, allowing his words to settle among the attentive audience. The enchanted ceiling above shimmers with an ethereal glow as if acknowledging the moment's significance.
"As we embark on this new chapter in the history of Hogwarts, let it be known that each member of the Board of Governors carries the weight of our shared legacy," Dumbledore continues. "The oath you are about to take is not merely a formality; it is a binding commitment to nurture the minds of the future, to uphold the values that make Hogwarts a sanctuary of magic and learning."
The Headmaster's gaze sweeps across the professors and the newly appointed board members, his eyes alight with a sense of purpose. "May your decisions be guided by wisdom, your actions be fueled by compassion, and your dedication is unwavering. Hogwarts trusts in your ability to safeguard its magic, to foster an environment where every witch and wizard can flourish."
He raises his wand, and a parchment unfurls before him, bearing the solemn oath that will bind the governors to their sacred duty. As Dumbledore begins the recitation, his words weave a magical tapestry that binds Hogwarts's past, present, and future into a seamless continuum.
And so, under the watchful gaze of the enchanted ceiling, with the wisdom of the professors as witnesses, the Board of Governors takes their solemn oath. The Great Hall reverberates with the echo of ancient chants, marking the convergence of knowledge, magic, and the unwavering commitment to the timeless legacy of Hogwarts.
Chapter 93 "The Goblin King's Farewell"
In the dimly lit chamber deep within Gringotts Bank, Thrain Spellblade, formerly known as Harry Potter, stood before the Goblin King. It was a moment that marked the end of his remarkable journey alongside the goblins, a trip that had earned him their respect and a goblin name in the ancient tradition.
The King, a figure of formidable presence, regarded Thrain with a sense of somberness. "Thrain Spellblade," he began, his voice echoing in the chamber, "you have earned a name among the goblins through battle and blood, a name that signifies your bond with our kind. Today, you return to the world of wizards, but you shall forever be remembered among us."
Thrain nodded in acknowledgment and gratitude to the King and the warriors who trained him.
The King continued, "You should know that Lord and Lady Longbottom, who had long been lost to us, their minds broken, have been healed and awakened. They were visited by a being that many believe to be Death, but we both know the truth. Your friend, the immortal, used his stone to restore them.
Thrain was surprised that the King knew who was responsible for the miracle.
A small smile graced Thrain's lips at the mention of his friend's actions.
The King's tone softened, and he spoke with a deep emotion that surprised Thrain. "You are unlike anyone I have ever met, Thrain, and I am proud to call you a friend. You have brought honor to our kind and proven that alliances between wizards and goblins can be forged."
Thrain bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you, great King, for everything."
But the Goblin King wasn't finished. "Your elf allies have returned with the traitor, who now slumbers deep within my prison. He shall remain there until you call for him."
Thrain's eyes met the King's, "He will not be called upon until we can guarantee Sirius will be cleared."
The King smiles, "so be it. He can rot in the dungeon until it's time."
And "I believe Lord Black and Remus Lupin are enjoying their time on the island of Black," the King announced.
Chapter 94 "Intermission"
Harry Potter's distinctive appearance reflected his transformation from wizard to young warrior during his three months of training with the goblins.
His jet-black hair, once unruly, had been tamed into a more warrior-like style. It was shaved on the sides, short and spiky, maintaining a militaristic charm. All could see his famous scar that had faded slightly.
His eyes, the most striking feature, were a captivating killing curse green, devoid of any pupil. They held an otherworldly quality, a testament to his growing magical prowess and connection to the arcane. His eyes seemed to pierce through the depths of one's soul,
Physically, Harry had grown more muscular and leaner due to intense training and battles fought alongside the goblins. His shoulders were broad, and his posture was upright and confident. He wore black-greenish combat pants and boots that seemed to shimmer as he walked. Harry also wore a tight, fighting black T-shirt with a picture of the Grim Reaper riding a Thestral. He wore a green muggle military jacket tailored to his frame. His hands, marked by calluses from countless swordfights, now possessed the agility of a seasoned warrior, their strength hidden beneath an exterior of quiet confidence.
A door slide opened, and Harry was above ground for the first time in three months. He slowly walked through the mass of wizards and witches waiting in line for a teller. When Harry spotted Lord Greengrass entering the bank, Lord Greengrass's sharp blue eyes spotted Harry walking toward the exit.
Harry stopped, "Lord Greengrass, how are you?"
Lord Greengrass replied, "I am well, Heir Potter "I have recently returned from my family's vacation in France."
Harry shakes his head yes. "That sounds like a fun vacation. I have never been to France but heard great things about it."
Lord Greengrass laughs. "If you ever go, I suggest taking a significant amount of gold. It's very pricy."
"I am off to get some ice cream; I had some ice cream just before my training started, and now I crave some vanilla ice cream."
'You might see my daughter Daphne and her friend Tracy there. That was their second stop. The first stop was the Flourish & Blotts bookstore. If Tracy had a say, the Ice cream parlor would have been the first stop." Lord Greengrass says with a laugh.
"Your daughter sounds like a girl I knew. Her first stop is always the bookstore," "It was nice talking to you, Lord Greengrass." Harry continues toward the exit. Lord Greengrass walks toward the private section of the bank, where he does business.
Chapter 95 "The Meeting"
Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis had just returned from a summer spent in France, and their time in the picturesque country had left them with a sun-kissed glow and an air of sophistication evident in their every step.
Tall and graceful, Daphne possessed an ethereal beauty that turned heads wherever she went. Her silver hair cascaded down her back like a shimmering waterfall, and her icy blue eyes held an incredible, captivating allure. Though not endowed with an overly large chest, her figure was exquisitely proportioned, characterized by a firmness that hinted at her youthful vitality. Her long legs seemed to go on forever, and a tight, toned posterior accentuated her lithe frame. Daphne moved with a quiet confidence, the epitome of elegance.
On this warm summer day, she wore a flowing summer dress that clung delicately to her curves, the fabric dancing with each step. Her open-toed sandals revealed perfectly manicured nails, and every detail of her attire exuded a refined style.
Tracy, in contrast, was a vision of vibrant energy and sultry allure. Her brunette locks framed her face in loose waves, and her big, expressive eyes sparkled with a mischievous charm. Tracy had blossomed over the summer, and her figure had filled out with the grace of a young woman. She possessed a generous bust that accentuated her curves, and her shapely legs and ample posterior showcased her newfound confidence.
Much like Daphne's, her summer dress was designed to accentuate her figure, hugging her in all the right places. Her dress swayed with an irresistible grace as she moved, and her open-toed sandals added a touch of casual sophistication to her ensemble.
Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis made a striking pair, each possessing unique allure and beauty. Their summer in France had left them with a sense of sophistication and confidence.
They both carried trays filled with their favorite ice cream, "I will not hear another word about him. That was the topic of conversation I had with my parents this morning. I will not waste another minute of my day wondering what happened to a boy who can't stay out of trouble for the summer." Daphne said
"Come on, Daphne, don't be that way. I mean, not even the Headmaster knows what has happened to him. He could be dead, Daphne;" "I mean, the magic world will flip out if the boy who lived died!"
Harry had just entered the open seating outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor when Harry noticed the two stunning Slytherin girls, who could only be Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis.
Harry was shocked they were talking about him. Harry walked up to the counter, and the waitress smiled at Harry, "Can I help you?"
"Yes, you can. I mean, I would like a Vanilla bowl and a butter beer, please," Harry ordered; he was not used to the looks the waitress gave him.
The Two girls had found a table and sat down. Tracy was about to talk but stopped. Daphne was not used to her friend not finishing her rants and looked at her. What's wrong with you, Tracy?
Look over there, Tracy whispered; who is that, and where did he come from? Daphne looked confused over her shoulder, and her eyes stopped on a young, tall, muscular teenage boy with a short, military-style haircut, about their age or slightly older, judging by his size. Daphne looked at Tracy and slapped her hand.
Tracy jump. "HEY, why did you do that," Tracy asked as she massaged her hand.
"You should thank me; for goodness sake, you were about to start drooling." He's just a boy." Daphne said.
"Just a boy, just a hot tall muscler boy!" Tracy said in a hushed whisper, "Here he comes."
Chapter 96 "Angry Daphne"
Harry slowly looked for a place to sit. The outside area is almost full. Only the table by the fence with Greengrass and Davis has a seat or two open.
Tracy stands up and looks at Harry. "If you are looking for a place to sit, you can sit with us?" Daphne looked at her friend like she had lost her mind.
Harry smiles at Tracy, "Thank you for the invitation; I did not realize it was this crowded out here." Harry pulls out a chair next to Daphne.
Tracy stares at Harry, "Are you new? We know most of the kids our age." Tracy asks. Daphne looks at Harry like she is trying to figure out a puzzle. Her head slowly tilted one way, then the other.
Harry laughs, "I am afraid you do know me." Tracy looks shocked; believe me, I would remember you."
Harry chuckles, "Well, be prepared to be shocked." "I am Harry Potter."
Tracy laughed, "Get out; you are not Harry Potter." "He is short, looks like he is going to die any minute, and wears the worst clothes." Tracy continues, "You, on the other hand, are tall and muscular. You don't wear glasses, your hair is short, and you have no scar; wait as she leans in closer; you do have a scar, but you can't be, she stutters."
Harry's cheeks turn slightly red, "Well, thank you for the compliments. But I assure you I am Harry Potter."
Daphne looks angry and almost shouts, "Potter," why are you sitting with dirty, backstabbing snakes."
Harry holds his hands like surrendering, "I have never said any of those words before." "I believe you are talking about Ron. I won't speak for him or how he feels. But that's not how I feel about all Slytherin students." "The only ones I have a problem with are Draco and his little gang of idiots and, of course, your Quidditch team."
Daphne's cheeks turned red, and her eyes turned cold. "Why have you never talked to any of us then?"
Harry lowers his hand, takes a deep breath, and looks at Daphne," "Do you want the truth." "I have no idea how to make friends or even approach someone to talk to; you might think it's easy, but it's not for me." "I met Ron on the train; he started talking to me." "I saved Hermione from a troll, and she started talking to me."
You should ask yourself why you didn't try to get to know me." Harry states," I understand the whole house rivalry and all that stupid crap." "This year is going to be different; I have come close to dying four times since joining this world." "The Headmaster, professors, no one cares what happened to me after I save the day repeatedly. I earn points, I have two special awards from the school, but that doesn't mean anything compared to almost losing your life!" Harry states.
Daphne leans forward, her eyes locking with his, and Harry leans back slightly.
Daphne looks at Harry, "I can't believe you act like what you did is no big deal!" "You could have died! You should have died," "If it was not for some crazy phoenix to show up and cry into your wound!" "I have no idea what you should have done, but you were careless, crazy, and stupid."
"I mean, let's look at your two years at school! Daphne demands, "You fought a mountain troll and a dark professor your first year." "Who would have thought you could top a year like that if you were on some curse breaker expedition or fighting in a wizard war? NOT AT HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF MAGIC!"
Harry looks at Tracy and leans away from the mad blonde. Her spoon pointing at him like it was her wand. "Why is she mad and yelling at me?" Harry asks.
Tracy tries not to laugh at how her friend, Miss Queen of Ice, behaves. "I have no idea, but it's funny!" Daphne didn't stop as her friend laughed at her.
"Oh no, Mr., I have to top that; you go discover a place everyone who has ever attended Hogwarts has looked for!" "But do you stop there? Nope, you fight a basilisk with a FREAKING SWORD." "I bet you can guess what happens when you fight a freaking X-category monster with a sword!" "You get bitten and poisoned." Daphne continues, her face turning red. "I mean, who could have seen that coming? Fighting a huge monster with a sword, you should have died, but no, a phoenix cries on your wound to save you!" She is breathing hard, looking at me, daring me to say anything.
Still leaning back, Harry stammers, "Umm, you are right; I was kind of stupid, wasn't I?"
Daphne looks even madder as Harry replies, Oh, you think you were stupid. "YOU should be dead!" "Then you pull this disappearing act, and you have the Ministry and the headmaster looking for you, but you just upped and vanished." Now you reappear looking so different; you are tall, muscular, and wearing clothes that match your new look." Daphne tells him.
"What can we expect from you this year? maybe fight a dragon?" Daphne demands, "That's all left for you to do." "You have a sword; you can slay the beast and have the Minster Knight you!"
Harry looks at Tracy. "Should I answer that, or will she start yelling at me again if I do?"
"Why the bloody hell are you asking Tracy that?" Daphne demands
Tracy shakes her head, trying not to laugh, "It might be best just to sit there and let her yell at you."
Harry shakes his head yes but doesn't say anything.
Daphne looks back and forth from Tracy to Harry. "I mean it, Potter, I want a normal year, no monsters, no dark professors." "No secret chambers, I mean nothing, do you understand? Because if I find out you are on an adventure this year. I will hex you so bad you wish you were facing the damn King of snakes."
Harry looks at Tracy with a confused look and whispers, "Who is the king of snakes?"
Daphne hears this and yells, "It's the name of a basilisk, the king of snakes."
"HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THIS?"
Harry looks at Daphne. "I just fought it even though I did try to talk to it, but it was insane." Daphne stopped talking and looked at Harry for a full minute. "You talked to the basilisk, and it's insane, you say!" "I THINK THE ONLY ONE INSANE IS YOU, POTTER!" Daphne pokes Harry in the chest with her spoon. "Do you understand a normal year? Do you hear me? A normal year!"
Chapter 97 "Dragons make an appearance"
Harry's keen senses screamed a warning. He felt an eerie stillness settle around him, the calm before the storm. His instincts kicked in without notice. He grabs Daphne and spins her around so she is before him. With his other hand, his battle senses already taking over, he raises a shield that appears along the sidewalk of the ice cream parlor. A deafening explosion rocks Diagon Alley, and an eruption of magical fury tears the front of Scrolls and Tabs bookstore apart.
The force of the explosion slams into Harry's shield. The shield holds the blast from hurting anyone in the ice cream parlor. Harry looks at the girls but hears a pop as they vanish. Their emergency port keys are activated. "Get out of here now dies on his lips." Harry turns and leaps over the fence. As he jumps, there is a flash of light, and when he lands, he is not in his clothes anymore.
He is wearing his Combat robes as he races to face those who attacked the Alley. Three figures dressed in half-dragon masks and Red robes walk out of what once was the front of the store. All three start casting spells at several red-robed Aurors who have responded to the explosion.
Alarms blare within the Ministry as a magical voice urgently announces, "Attack in the alley by Scroll and Tabs!" Director Bones swiftly commands, "Get those magical sensors searching 360 degrees! See if there are any other attacks. Keep the alert force in case they are needed in another part of the country. Lock down the Ministry—no one in or out. Secure all Floo networks. Keep the Patrolmen in the Ministry. Savage, Hammer, Scrimgeour, with me."
As they race out of the Ministry, covering about 100 yards down the road, magical fire erupts from the sides, hurtling straight toward them. All of them leap out of the way and return fire. Six dragon-masked wizards emerge from the cover and engage Bones and her party.
Savage hurls several magical cold bolts, repeatedly hitting the dragon wizard's shield until it finally shatters. The last bolt strikes the dragon wizard in the shoulder. Bones unleashes an overpowered blasting curse, tearing through the dragon wizard's shield and the wizard himself, splitting him in two.
The remaining dragon wizards persist, alternating between attacks and shields. As Scrimgeour beheads the one he's battling with an overpowered cutting curse, Hammer sidesteps, deftly avoiding magical attacks. She retaliates with a precision-piercing shot, hitting the dragon wizard in the throat, causing blood to spray in all directions. With a flick of her wrist, Hammer sends the dragon wizard flying into the wall, where he lies motionless.
The last two dragon wizards are engulfed in black flames, screaming as their skin melts. Standing there is Regent Andromedia Tonks nee Black. "Hope you don't mind me helping take care of some trash for you," Regent Black says.
"Thank you, Regent Black," Director Bones responds as they sprint toward the battle unfolding in front of Scrolls and Tabs.
The Aurors respond by raising shields and going on the defensive. One of the Auror's shields cracks and breaks and the Auror is thrown 10 feet back and lies on the ground, moaning in pain. The dragon-masked wizards continue firing down the road, piercing the shoulder of an Auror charging at them.
Harry races toward them, firing an overpowered arcane ball between them; the ball streaks across and explodes, throwing all three through the air. One slams into a wall with a crunch and does not move.
Another hits the ground, rolls, and pops up, facing him, firing several spells as fast as possible. Harry dives out of the way. He hits the ground and returns to his feet, firing a chain of attacks at the wizard. The dragon-masked wizard shields the first spell and dodges the second but is struck by the third spell in the chain, and a black arrow is now sticking out of his leg. He screams in pain and fires the killing curse at Harry. Harry's left-hand points to the ground and yanks a piece of the street as the killing curse slams into the floating earth.
Harry flings the exploding rubble back at the wizard with a flick. The wizard is surprised as the pieces of earth slam into him, breaking his arm and shoulder and driving a rib into his lung. As the elements of earth pepper his body, he is flung on the ground, and only gasping can be heard.
The last dragon wizard shield breaks and a blasting curse slams into his chest as blood and skin evaporate. The wizard's ribs shatter, killing the wizard instantly and dropping him to the ground. The most terrifying Aurora Harry has ever seen stomps into view. The Aurora has one good eye and a spinning magical eye; he carries a wand and staff, his long leather trench coat, and only one good leg. The other is a peg leg. Mad-Eye Moody, the infamous dark wizard and witch hunter, has arrived on the battlefield.
Chapter 98 "Dragons make an appearance Part 2"
Amidst the chaotic rubble of a razed store, a trio of wizards emerged, cloaked in robes of deep azure and led by a figure draped in red, donning a regal golden dragon mask. Tensions soared as Moody, seizing the moment, unleashed a thunderous Bombarda spell, its potency crackling through the air with an ominous promise.
Yet, before the incendiary onslaught could reach its mark, one of the dragon wizards moved swiftly. With a forceful yank of his wand, he tore a section of the shattered store into a makeshift shield, intercepting Moody's devastating attack. The explosion sent debris hurtling in every direction, a chaotic display of magic's unpredictable fury. The resourceful dragon wizard manipulates the fractured fragments, sending them hurtling back toward Moody, who raises his staff, and the pieces stop and fall to the ground.
Tonks and Shacklbolt sprint towards the ongoing battle. Three wizards wearing dragon masks launch a fierce assault, unleashing a barrage of fire bolts at the duo. Tonks swiftly dives out of harm's way while Shacklbolt raises a shield to protect himself.
As Tonks hit the ground, she deftly rolled and retaliated with three black balls that streaked through the air and exploded upon impact. The three wizards attempt to shield themselves, but the force of the explosions rocks their defenses, shattering them. With their shields compromised, Tonks seized the opportunity and launched a follow-up attack.
Tonks' spell hits one of the wizards in the chest, piercing his heart and creating a fist-sized hole as it exits his back. He crumples to the ground, lifeless. Meanwhile, Shacklbolt deftly dodges the next attack and swiftly lands a cutting curse across the legs of another wizard, separating limb from body. The injured wizard screams in pain as he tumbles to the ground.
However, the last remaining wizard retaliates with a powerful, overcharged fireball hurtling towards them.
The fiery ball explodes, but both Tonks and Shacklbolt skillfully conjure shields, successfully warding off the explosive onslaught. Seizing the moment, they swiftly retaliate, casting spells that find their marks. Curses land on the lone wizard, and he crumples to the ground, lifeless, succumbing to the combined magical assault from Tonks and Shacklbolt. The echoes of the skirmish linger in the air as the immediate threat is neutralized.
Moody laughs, "About time you two show up. I thought I would have to finish this by myself."
Tonks looks at her mentor, saying, "I wouldn't allow you to have all the fun, and old Shacklebolt here followed."
Shacklebolt grunts, "You know me, always looking for a good fight."
Simultaneously, the golden-masked mage summoned a relentless barrage of elemental fire bolts. These fiery projectiles streaked through the air, their malevolence evident as they sought to envelop Harry in a searing maelstrom.
But Harry was no novice in the arcane arts, and his response was a symphony of calm and calculation. With a wave of his wand, he deflected the fiery bolts with almost casual grace, each missing its target by the slimmest of margins.
Unperturbed, Harry, a master of his craft, retaliated with a flourish, conjuring three arcane spheres brimming with volatile energy. They streaked towards their fiery adversary, a trio of impending cataclysms.
The arcane orbs detonated around the masked mage, a storm of raw power and unbridled fury. Desperation fueled the mage's attempt to erect a defensive shield, a fragile bulwark that crumbled like glass in the face of the storm's fury.
The cataclysmic force was upon him, his dark robes absorbing the brunt of the damage. Smoke and embers spiraled from his scorched attire, a testament to the ferocity of the onslaught.
Yet, the masked mage remained. With an astonishing fluidity, his wand morphed into a fiery whip, a deadly instrument of infernal flames. This fiery lash, charged with malice, cracked through the air with blinding velocity, seeking Harry's flesh. Caught off guard, Harry bore the whip's lashing assault upon his shoulder and chest, his mithril shirt under his combat attire preventing the scorching embrace of the fiery whip from burning through.
Agonizing pain surged through his body as the whip seared its cruel mark. His combat robes smoldered from the impact, and Harry fixed his unwavering gaze upon the masked mage. This battle had now escalated into a brutal and unforgiving confrontation, a clash of wills and powers that would ultimately determine the outcome of this dangerous encounter.
Harry's response was swift and ingenious, a testament to his quick thinking and mastery of the arcane. He channeled his magical prowess into the earth beneath him. The mage, caught off balance and unprepared for Harry's unexpected gambit, had no opportunity to react as the ground beneath him erupted in a cataclysmic explosion of magical force.
The detonation acted as a potent catapult, hurling the masked mage skyward. The mage's once-imposing scarlet robes and the resplendent regal mask were ripped asunder by the relentless fury of the explosion, tattered remnants billowing in his wake as he tumbled unceremoniously backward. Yet, he was no mere victim of circumstance.
With an intricate series of wand movements, his fall ceased to be a chaotic descent. Instead, it transformed into a calculated, almost dance-like descent as he reasserted mastery over gravity's relentless pull. His motion through the air bore the signature of a magician's skill, defying the very laws of nature that sought to confine him.
As he descended, the mage unleashed a relentless counteroffensive. His hands moved with an eerie grace, conjuring a volley of explosive projectiles. These detonating shells erupted, forming a dangerous barrage that threatened to engulf the young wizard. However, Harry's mastery of the arcane arts had left him far from defenseless.
Drawing deep from the well of his magical reservoir, he fueled his body with its potent energy. His movements blurred as he propelled himself forward. The boots of his armor helped Harry navigate the dangerous battlefield with a grace that defied the chaos surrounding him. Each step was a precisely calculated maneuver, evading the deadly projectiles with a breathtaking dance of danger.
Harry conjured a bolt of arcane energy that streaked toward the masked mage. The bolt struck its mark unerringly, impacting the mage's chest with devastating force. The blow sent the masked adversary hurtling backward, his body colliding with the wall, the structure quaking from the impact.
Against the wall, the masked mage slumped, his once-vainglorious red robes now smoldering. The mage's eyes burst with fire, burning brighter than ever. The mage brought his palms together with an ominous and deliberate gesture. A nightmarish entity emerged – the visage of a dragon, a serpent-like behemoth that loomed ominously over him. The dragon's maw parted, and from it, the ancient terror known as dragon's breath was unleashed.
A torrent of searing fire, a cataclysmic storm more ferocious than any inferno, cascaded down the street, consuming everything in its path. The flames danced and roared, a blazing flood that seemed to destroy the very essence of the surroundings. The masked mage reveled in the chaos, believing he had finally brought his formidable opponent to his knees.
As the fiery maelstrom closed in, the masked mage's laughter filled the air. But, in a heartbeat, the echoes of the mage's laughter fell silent. An unforeseen turn of fate transpired. A blade, a masterpiece of goblin steel, pierced through the mage's back.
In Parseltongue, Harry hissed, his voice dripping with a chilling venom, "Nice try, dragon boy." The mage's last words, spoken in a bewildered whisper, were, "How..."
The masked mage's power waned, and with a final, agonized gasp, he crumpled to the ground.
Harry stood amidst the aftermath of the fiery onslaught, his breath ragged and his combat robes still smoking from the intense heat. With a determined grip, he pulled his gleaming sword of Gryffindor from the lifeless mage's back.
As he surveyed the scene, his senses heightened by the adrenaline coursing through him, a distinctive voice spoke from behind him. Harry turned to see Mad-Eye Moody, his magical eye fixed on him.
Mad-Eye's grizzled features broke into a rare, approving smile. "Nice move, lad," he grunted, his magical eye swiveling independently to watch their surroundings.
Harry returned the smile, albeit with a hint of weariness. "Thanks," he replied, his voice still carrying the remnants of the fierce battle. "I take it you three put the other wizards down."
Mad-Eye laughed, a rasping, almost unsettling sound. "Aye, they went out fighting. Their kind never surrenders."
Harry nodded, but his thoughts were momentarily interrupted as he recalled something unusual from the chaotic scene. "Do you know them?" he inquired, curiosity tinging his words.
Mad-Eye's magical eye locked onto Harry's with a piercing intensity. "Aye, they are the Dragon Cabal. Never heard of them operating in Britain before."
Harry's acute magical senses, honed by his time with the goblins, detected an elusive presence attempting to slip away from the battlefield unnoticed. His gaze darted across the wreckage, his mind a whirlwind of calculations. Suddenly, his keen eyes locked onto an anomaly.
A miniature dragon, almost translucent, slithered out from a nearby shop. Clutched within its talons was a tome, a book of undeniable importance. In the blink of an eye, Harry, acting instinctually, unleashed a capture spell, a radiant web of energy spiraling toward the mysterious creature.
The luminous threads of the spell ensnared the dragon, its transparent form struggling against the magical bonds. But the question lingered - where had the enchanting attack spirited the elusive creature away? Indeed, the treacherous Dragon Cult had not seized the coveted book. Harry's instincts told him this was just the beginning of a new and dangerous chapter in his ongoing adventures.
Moody's gnarled wand was raised, a grizzled eye locked onto the scene as he observed Potter's actions with a war-seasoned scrutiny. A sense of foreboding hung in the air as the young wizard cast an enigmatic spell, its effects hidden even from Moody's well-trained magical eye.
The hushed whisper of a "pop" resonated through the tension-soaked atmosphere, signaling the sudden disappearance of the unseen adversary into a magical orb. Moody's magic eye whirled as he attempted to process the bewildering turn of events.
"What in Merlin's name was that, Potter?" Moody grumbled.
Harry's brow furrowed, "I have no idea," he admitted, his words tinged with uncertainty. "The spell I used is an ancient family incantation. It's not something I've ever used before."
Moody's scarred face remained etched with suspicion, but he eventually relented. "Well, whatever it was, we won't need to worry about that anymore. Gone is gone, I reckon." The grizzled auror, despite his wariness, couldn't deny the effectiveness of Harry's unorthodox magic.
Chapter 99 "The Auror's Desperation"
Harry's grin towards Moody had barely formed when the abrupt onset of agony contorted his features. Smoke, an eerie and ominous shroud, began to coil from his back and right arm. With a heart-wrenching cry, he crumpled to his knees, every muscle in his body convulsing as if gripped by an unseen, malevolent force. The scene unfolded with harrowing intensity, leaving Moody shocked at the sudden turn of events.
Moody's decision to rush Harry to St. Mungo's was swift and unquestionable. Harry's pain-wracked attempts to voice his objections were silenced by the relentless torment coursing through his body, rendering him utterly helpless. Tonks, the ever-resourceful Auror, stepped up without hesitation. She swiftly produced a portkey and, with a sudden whirl of magic, transported them to the specialized emergency room reserved for Aurors.
Moody watches Tonks, and Potter disappear when he hears the report from behind him. His magical eye spins around and sees Director Bones, Savage, Hammer, Scrimgeour, and Regent Black stopping a few feet away.
Moody responds, "We engaged several Dragon-masked wizards, and Heir Potter Black also engaged them. He put down a few of the Dragon wizards, including their leader," pointing at the mage on the ground with a hole in his back. "I started to talk to Potter when he screamed, and smoke arose from his body. I ordered Auror Tonks to take him to the emergency healing room at St. Mungos."
"Very well, seal this area off. There are six more Dragon wizards up the street. They tried to stop us and were unsuccessful," Director Bones informs Moody. "Seal that area off as well. I will get Croaker and his mob up here to help us determine who these wizards are. Hammer, you are in charge of the investigation. Get to it," Director Bones orders. With those last instructions, Bones heads back to the Ministry to check if any other attacks have occurred.
Inside the hospital's secure confines, a team of vigilant security Aurors sprang into action, their senses heightened by the blaring alarm. Though well-versed in the protocols, Tonks promptly confirmed her identity with the password "Majesty." The team sergeant swiftly signaled the all-clear, and a squadron of healers descended upon the unconscious wizard, their wands alight with healing spells.
"Damn, this is bad," the lead healer muttered, concern etched into every line of his face. "Blood loss potion is to be administered at once." However, their efforts to remove Harry's clothes hit an unexpected snag. His combat robes, imbued with resistance, refused to yield to the blades of their spells.
A seasoned, grey-haired healer hurried to Harry's side, his experience evident in every confident step. He waved his wand over the young wizard's body, assessing the injuries with a practiced eye. Then, with a deft touch, he lowered his wand above Harry's throat and performed a simple spell that caused the boy's robes to vanish.
The sudden disappearance of Harry's clothing left the other healers in astonished silence.
The veteran healer offered a warm, knowing smile to his bewildered colleagues. "A long time ago," he began, his voice carrying the weight of memory, "I was a combat healer in the Great War. I was assigned to the Legion, and that was the only way to get their combat robes off."
The other healers exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from surprise to admiration. The veteran healer's experience held a unique and valuable insight born from the crucible of a war-torn past.
"Sergeant, his robes just vanished," Tonks reported, her eyes locked on where the combat robes once rested on his body.
"I'm glad for that," the sergeant replied with a hint of relief. "I wouldn't want the responsibility of watching those robes."
Now focused on the task, Tonks informed the sergeant, "This is Harry Potter. He's to be placed in a secure room with a squad on the floor. No one will enter or talk to him until you receive further orders."
Just as Tonks delivered her instructions, the door swung open, revealing the imposing figure of Director Amelia Bones, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. The room snapped to attention, and Tonks swiftly recounted the events that had led them to this moment.
Director Bones' eyes widened in disbelief as she absorbed the shocking revelation. "Wait, did you say Harry Potter, Auror Tonks?"
Tonks nodded solemnly. "Yes, Director. It's Harry Potter. He was involved in the battle against the dragon wizards in the alley."
Director Bones furrowed her brow, a sense of urgency in her voice. "What's his status, Auror Tonks?"
Tonks observed the diligent healers working tirelessly on Harry and replied, "They're still in the process, but he was injured in the battle."
The Director's concern deepened as she connected the dots. "Seeing him engaged with the dragon wizard with the golden mask, who was the leader of the blue wizards, you're saying that Potter, who is barely 13, the same age as my niece, engaged and fought a wizard who we suspect is part of the Dragon Cabal?"
Tonks nodded again, a mixture of awe and worry in her eyes. "Yes, Director. It appears that way."
Amelia Bones, Director of Magical Law Enforcement, was left to grapple with the weight of this unexpected revelation, her mind racing with questions and concerns.
The Director looked at Tonks, her face a tapestry of astonishment and concern.
Tonks continued her report, "Not only did he fight the Leader of the Dragon wizards, but he emerged victorious and killed him with a sword. Potter defeated him single-handedly, without any aid from the Aurors, not even Moody."
Chapter 100 "Deaths Mark"
Director Bones issued a decisive order, "Double the guard on the Secure floor; the wards are on full power. I'll get the report from Moody." Director Bones turned to Auror Tonks. "Tonks, you're in charge until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?"
Tonks replied, "Yes, Director, I understand."
The Director nodded and made her exit. The team sergeant approached Tonks, curiosity and concern etched across his face. "How bad was the battle?"
Tonks sighed, struggling to find the words. "It was intense, but the primary struggle was between Potter and the Golden dragon-masked mage. I've never witnessed anything like it."
The sergeant prodded for details, "What do you mean?"
Tonks ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to capture the extraordinary nature of the battle. "It was incredible. Potter used wandless magic, raising the ground, intercepting curses, and then hurling the fragments back at the wizard. I've never seen magic like that before. The masked wizard wielded some flame whip spell and was incredibly skilled. But Potter defeated him with a sword, of all things."
The sergeant was taken aback, "Potter using wand-less magic?"
Tonks nodded vigorously. "Yes, and he cast spells in ways I can't even describe. I don't know how he endured the damage he took."
Tonks turns and orders, "Get the extra guards up and have them sweep the Secure floor for anything suspicious."The sergeant salutes promptly and walks off to follow his orders."
Tonks approaches the healers who had momentarily ceased their work on Harry.
She inquired, "How is he?"
The lead healer regarded her gravely. "He's stable for now, but something unusual is happening. While we were treating him, we noticed that he was healing simultaneously, and the healing didn't originate from our spells."
Tonks was perplexed, "What do you mean?"
The healer continued, "At our initial assessment, he had three broken ribs, but when we attempted to administer a potion, they were already healed."
The revelation deepened, "We also took precautions because his blood is toxic. If it enters your bloodstream, it can be lethal."
Tonks was bewildered, "Toxic blood? How is that possible?"
The healer elaborated, "His blood contains poison that circulates throughout his body. It's an integral part of him. The poison, I mean. He should be dead from it."
The healer added another astonishing detail, "We detected Phoenix tears in his blood?" "We've never encountered anything like this before."
Tonks sighed, "We'll have numerous questions for Mr. Potter when he awakens."
We'll need answers about the poison, the Phoenix tears, and the battle itself - how it began and how he found himself amid it."
The mysteries surrounding Harry Potter seemed to deepen with each revelation, and Tonks realized that this extraordinary young wizard carried secrets that defied explanation.
A sense of urgency filled the room as one of the healers pointed at Harry's arm, her voice trembling with astonishment. "OMG," she exclaimed, "look at his arm!" Every eye in the room was drawn to the peculiar sight.
As they focused on his arm, they witnessed a bizarre phenomenon. A burn mark was forming, its eerie design slowly taking shape on Harry's skin, extending from his arm and over his back. The room hushed, a palpable sense of wonder and concern hanging in the air.
The head healer's wand moved precisely, gently lifting Harry into the air and carefully turning him over onto his back. As Harry's body was exposed to the room, gasps of amazement and astonishment escaped the lips of those present.
An intricate and magical tattoo etched upon Harry's skin was like nothing they had ever seen. It seemed to come to life with an otherworldly presence.
At the center of the design was a grim reaper, robed in dark, billowing attire, astride one of the fabled Thestrals. The creature's wings were spread wide, its skeletal form appearing eerie and ethereal. The grim reaper's bony hand clutched a long, curving scythe that extended to Harry's shoulder. The blade of the scythe extended down the length of his right arm. The details were nothing short of breathtaking.
The Thestrals' leathery wings were rendered with realism, making them seem almost tangible. The grim reaper's hooded face seemed to stare at you. Every curve and line of the scythe's blade appeared razor-sharp and ready to cut through the fabric of reality itself.
The tattoo seemed alive, its magical essence pulsating with unseen energy as if the Grim Reaper and the Thestral were bound by a mystical connection to Harry's very being. The dark, inky lines of the tattoo seemed to dance and shift with an otherworldly glow, giving the impression that they could move at any moment.
It was a mark of wonder and mystery, a symbol of untold significance. As the healers and Tonks beheld the intricate and hauntingly detailed tattoo, they couldn't help but wonder about the secrets it concealed and the role it played in Harry's life. They knew this was another layer of the enigma surrounding the young wizard.
Intrigued and apprehensive, the head healer muttered, "This is unlike anything I've ever seen."
Tonks, who had been watching silently, spoke up, her voice filled with awe and concern. "What could this possibly mean?"