Welcome back to part two of The Tower as we roll into the last four chapters of "The Heir and the Hunt"
On with the show!
Harry Potter, Little Hangleton Graveyard.
Harry Potter was currently sitting in the overgrown grass of a graveyard cradling his right arm in his lap, he could feel his lifeblood seeping into his pants as he draw in deep and steady breaths, he was trying to stop his body from shaking and spasming randomly thanks to the after-effects of the cruciatus curse he had been hit three times with.
"Come out, Harry Potter," the monster said in a whisper that seemed to echo around the cemetery, "Come out and Die on your feet like your father did, as your mother did, standing tall and proud as they did," he says and his followers chuckle darkly.
Harry's face twisted in despair as he listens to the monster who had killed his parents talk about them, he fights down his anger, his rage, the voice of his teacher echoing in his head, "Emotions are an enemy on the battlefield, Greaca, you must kill them as swiftly as you do your enemies or they will kill you, think in battle, feel after it," So Harry chokes down his anger and despair, he needed to get home, he needed to live, he didn't want to die.
But his right arm was useless thanks to the cutting and piercing curses that had hit it and his wand was laying in the tall grass somewhere by all the death eaters, and even if he could get to it, it would be useless, the cutting curse that had split his hand in two had also split his wand.
"Come out, Harry Potter, Come out and face the God of Death," the Monster says, and Harry fights back the tears he feels burning at the corners of his eyes, all he had to do was get the stupid cup, how did it get this bad?
[...and the Dark Lord will rise again, more powerful and Terrible than ever before…]
Twenty-five minutes earlier.
After the cannon had gone off signaling him and Krum to enter the maze, Harry had taken off as fast as he could into the maze; the Point Me spell was invaluable in the maze. It was a spell that, while your wand was laying flat on your palm, could point you in the general direction of a named object within half a square kilometer. The spell had pointed Harry right to the Triwizard Championship Cup, the enchantments in the maze weren't even that much of a hindrance, most were made to affect the mental state of the person passing through them, and even with what little of the Hunt that was pumping through his veins they could do little to stop him as he blitzes through them.
The ones that did affect him were the ones that messed with his senses, turning the world topsy-turvy or making it so cold around him that he stopped as his body froze from the blast of cold before pushing through it. The other champions had also been a bit of an obstacle, he had come across Angelina and outpaced her with a laugh, traded some spell fire with Krum, and came across Fleur cursing at a hedge in French because she couldn't slip through the Hedge to get to the cup faster. But he had moved past them all quickly enough, slowing down only to turn a sharp corner, and had made it to the cup in ten minutes tops.
He grabbed the damn thing with a smile even, and that's when it all went wrong.
He had felt the yank of a portkey in his stomach, it had taken him by surprise at first because no one told them the cup was going to be a portkey, but it made sense, how else was he gonna get out of the maze unless he was meant to carry it back out?
He had landed, alone, and flat on his face cursing up a storm, but it wasn't to the roar of a crowd or hugs from his sisters, but the quiet and loneliness of the Graveyard that surrounded him. A thick mist covered the ground, grasping and clinging to everything like a sickness one could only get from the dead, all coming from a large ancient cauldron sitting under a large yew tree boiling away. It was a huge iron thing, with weathered features of a large screaming face, and runes were etched along the bottom and lip of it, as scenes of wars, battles, and painful deaths were painstakingly worked into the iron by hand and chiseled with such beautiful craftsmanship and skill that Harry could make out every scene as if it was newly made. He pushed himself up looking around confused, he could see lights coming from a small village nestled in between two hills with a large manor house in disrepair on top of one of the hills. Harry had wondered why the portkey had brought him there for only a moment before the pain took away his ability to think.
It was like a red hot brand was pressed against his scar with such a sudden intensity that it drove all thought from his mind as he screamed, just before a spell hit the side of his head. It was like Dora in the alleyway almost a year ago, his jaw locked shut, his arms and legs snapping to his side and together, locking in place. Harry struggled and fought against the spell, but he could only move so much before the spell locked him in place. He felt himself being levitated up before being slammed into the large statue of the Grim Reaper by a person cloaked in black, one again Harry tries to force himself to move but to no avail, the cloaked person flicks his wand, conjuring thin ropes around Harry, binding him further to the statue.
"Now Wormtail, Do it now!" a voice coming from the cloaked man yells in a high hissing tone, just before the cloaked man walks over and dumps the scaly twisted body of something into the boiling cauldron.
"No! No!" Harry thinks to himself, as he watches in detached horror as Wormtail points his wand at the grave just below Harry. The earth cracks open, wrenching open a small hole before a single white bone floats out and over to the cauldron.
"Bone of the Father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son,"
The bone falls into the bubbling cauldron, turning the brew into a sickly pale white, Wormtail then puts away his wand before reaching into his pocket for an empty glass vial and a silver dagger, shaking he takes a deep breath before lifting his right hand over the cauldron and drawing the dagger back.
"F-Flesh of the S-servant, willingly given, you w-will revive your m-master!"
With a trembling hand, he swings the blade down at his wrist, cutting the appendage clean off his arm, and as the scent of cooked flesh fills the graveyard Wormtail screams in pain, filling the night air as the cauldron's brew turns a poison green before he turns to Harry, his hood falling back to finally reveal his face. He stalks over to Harry, the pain of his wound etched on his face, Harry struggles more as he approaches, trying desperately to escape but he could barely move an inch between the spell and the burning pain in his skull. Wormtail slips the blade of the knife between Harry's palm and thigh, before drawing it back and splitting both open before putting the blade away and holding the vial below the bleeding wounds to fill it to the top, and Harry swears to everything he could think of that Wormtail was going to die a painful death at his hands before a crack of thunder could be heard overhead.
Wormtail walks back over to the cauldron and tips the full vial into it turning the concoction a blood red.
"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe!"
Wormtail howls before stepping back from the cauldron, cradling his handless arm, "And the Dark Lord will rise again," he says in a sorrowful whisper for what he soon releases upon the world.
"Let it drown," Harry pleads and begs anything that would hear him, "Please, Just let it drown," he thinks to himself as he clenches his eyes shut, trying to ignore the throbbing headache buried behind his eyes.
But as Harry hears Wormtail gasp, he knew that his pleas went unanswered, like they always had in his life.
He opens his eyes to see something fully emigre from the cauldron, tall and pale, its skin was pulled tightly over its skeleton so much so that Harry could make out its hip bones jutting out of its sides and count its ribs. His face was smooth and snake-like, with two flaring slits for a nose as Harry could make out glamming white scales over its hairless body. Both Zoê and his mother had called Fleur an abomination for what she was born as, but Harry disagreed, for the tall creature throwing a looming shadow in the dark graveyard was far more of an abomination than what the Half-Fae was, fuck what the Hunt felt, Harry knew a monster when he saw one, and Voldemort was just that.
"Robe me," the Monster says, it comes out as a soft hiss but louder than any thunder.
Wormtail immediately stands to obey his master's orders and dresses him with one hand before the Monster reaches into the pocket of its robes with a large hand and long fingers that reminded Harry of the frost Acromantula that he and Atalanta had killed just a year ago and withdraws a bone white wand, he runs the fingers of his free hand over it delicately and in an almost loving manner, smiling before he turns back to Wormtail.
"Your arm, Wormtail," the Monster orders, and Wormtail kneels before the Dark Lord and offers him the stump of his arm.
"Thank you, my lord, thank you," Wormtail says before the Monster chuckles, it was a deep, musical chuckle that did not fit the creature that it came from.
"Your other arm, Wormtail," the Monster says with a cruel smirk as the kneeling man whimpers but still does what was commanded, raising his other arm just before with a single twitch of the Monsters wand, it vanishes most of the sleeve on Wormtail's robe before grabbing his wrist and brings his arm closer, bending it at an awkward angle causing Wormtail to bite down on a scream as the Monster raised its wand.
"Now we will see," The monster whispers, "Now we will see who will come and face their penance, and which will flee, suffer, and die," it hisses out, drawing a cruel and gleeful smile across its snake-like face before pressing the tip of it's wand to the faded tattoo on Wormtail's arm, causing it to burn a fresh black as Wormtail whimpers in pain. The Monster tosses Wormtail's arm away from him, sending the man it belonged to, to the ground before walking over to the middle of the cemetery. It grabs the hood of its robes and slowly starts to pull them over its head, "Now we will see who remains loyal," it says as the scarlet snake-like eyes burn in the dark of the moonless night before it folds its hands behind it's back and waits, looming over the graves and weeping man like a specter of dread and death.
And he didn't have to wait long.
One by one they arrived with sharp cracks in the dark, walking cautiously forward with each step they took was another step closer to death, a few that got close enough to see the Monster fell to their knees and wept with either reverence or woe, Harry could not tell before they crawled forward pathetically to the Monster before kissing the hem of his robes saying words of praise and worship to the Monster before backing away to inform a circle, as each one did this the Monster doesn't say a word but watches them from under his hood, his eyes gleaming at their supplication. Finally, as the last one falls into place in the circle around the Monster, the master in the middle speaks.
"Thirteen years," its words coming out in a soft timber, "Thirteen years have come and gone, and still you answer the call as if it was only yesterday, I ask myself, where was this loyalty when I, your lord and savior, the one whom you all sworn to serve forever more was nothing more than a spirit twisting in the wind?" the monster asks, his voice rising sharply in anger as he spoke, but still never climbing over a whisper, the fear from the men encircling the monster grows to the point where Harry could almost taste it.
"For thirteen years I had thought to myself that my loyal would find me, that my loyal would help restore their god to his full power, but in thirteen years, none of you came," it says the last words in a hiss of true rage, just before one of the masked and robed men throw himself to the ground before the monster.
"My Lord, My God, please forgive me, forgive us!" the man cries out before, as quick as a viper, the monster leveled his wand at the man.
"Crucio," the Monster hisses, and the man on the ground begins to thrash and scream, begging for forgiveness, "Lord Voldemort does not forgive-" the monster says before releasing the spell, "Easily," he finishes with a flourish of his wand, sending the death eater flying into one of the headstones with a crunch and scream, "Thirteen years you left your lord and god to languish, so thirteen years of servitude I will have from each of you and your families before I forgive any of you, and you will begin to pay that debt tonight," it snaps at the collection of robes figures who all bow their heads mumbling thanks to the monster in the middle as the death eater the monster casually flung across the graveyard stands, thanking the monster for his mercy before resuming his place in the circle.
"I-I returned," says the meek voice of Wormtail as he stood and walks forward, and then faster than Harry could blink, the monster was on him, looming over his flinching form, scarlet eyes burning.
"You returned out of fear, not out of loyalty, Wormtail," the monster hisses sharply at the coward, "But, you have been useful these last few months, have you not, Wormtail?" the monster says, his tone becoming softer as he reaches out and grabs Wormtail's handless arm, twisting it up to him painfully, "And Lord Voldemort always rewards usefulness," the monster says before waving his wand over the cooked stump of Wormtail's arm, causing a silver liquid to form into a hand before sealing itself to the empty wrist with a hiss of smoke causing Wormtail to yelp in pain.
"It's beautiful, My Lord, thank you, My Lord," Wormtails says, before backing away from the monster and taking his place inside the circle.
As the monster returned to the middle of the circle, another death eater stepped forward, bowing his head before he spoke, "My Lord, if I may speak?" the high posh voice of Lucius Malfoy says, and Harry rages on the inside, he knew he should have killed him, he knew he should have killed Selwyn, he should have killed them all.
The monster nods to the slimy fucking snake, allowing Lucius his words, "How? How has this… miracle of your return come to pass? I think I speak for all of us when I say that we beg to know?" he asks, and the monster smirks at him.
"So, you all wish to know how a god performs his miracles, is that it?" it says as it begins to walk around the circle of his loyal, "It is simple, it is because I am a god that I am able to return to you all, for I can not die," it says as it walks, looking at each of the death eaters in their eyes, "What most foolish mortals think happened that night thirteen years ago, is a lie, so I will tell you the real story of what happened that night and it begins and ends with our guest of honor, Harry Potter," the monster says with a smirk as he gestures with his wand at Harry, still stuck fast to the stature of death. The death eaters hiss and spit toward him before the monster continues, "I went to the Potters' home that Samhain on the word of one who I had thought loyal to me, who had told me of a child that would be raised to fight me in some sad pathetic attempt to starve off the defeat of those who opposed us when it was so close at hand," the monster says as he begins to walk slowly over to Harry as the death eaters scoff at his words.
"When I had entered the home, James Potter met me in combat, fought fiercely, he fought proudly, but like all before him was felled low by the god of death," the monster says with a smirk, "When I proceed to where dear sweet Lily Potter was, I found her protecting the boy, I, being the merciful god I am, offered her a chance to live, she turned it down," it says with a chuckle that all the death eaters copy as Harry glared at the Monster.
"But with her death, she invoked an old magic, a powerful magic, one I should have foreseen, and when I turned my wand on our dear little Harry here, my spell rebounded and my mortal form was rendered to nothing but dust," it says softly as it smirked at Harry, "How lies have fed your legend all these years, Harry Potter, how they held you up to be a savior when in truth it was the single act of sacrifice of your mother that prolonged your life for thirteen long years," it says with a shake of its head.
"Mudblood cunt," one of the death eaters spits, before Voldemort, in a flicker of movement, falls on him with a cry of "Crucio!" bringing the death eater to the ground, writhing in pain.
"Mudblood she may have been, Crabbe," the monster snaps harshly at the screaming death eater, "But she was a woman who tricked a god, who had scattered me to the winds, and I dear says she deserves a bit more respect then disloyal fools who abandoned their god," it hisses out as Crabbe begs for mercy, "So, do keep your tongue civil and your tone respectful when you call her a Mudblood," the monster says before lifting the curse. It turns back to Harry, the scarlet eyes boring into Harry's green, "As I was saying, with my mortal form gone and I was rendered to something less than a ghost, I fled to Albania, with the Aurors still hunting for any trace left of me and as weak as I was, I hid myself, possessing rats and snakes to survive," it says as it continues his walk around the circle.
"I have tried a few times to restore my body to no avail, but dear fearful Pettigrew, afraid of his old friends came to find me before happening on some useful information," the monster says with a smirk, "One of my most faithful was free but under the thumb of his father, we freed him and like the true believer he was, immediately offered his service to help restore me to my full glory by infiltrating Hogwarts, right under that old goat's nose before we used the Tri-Wizard championship to our advantage to get Dear Little Harry here," it says as it turns to look at Harry with another smirk before walking slowly toward him once again.
"Due to the nature of sweet Lily Potter's sacrifice, I could not touch him, but thanks to a ritual of my own making,..." the monster trails off with a smirk, as he grows closer his steps grow further as he picks up his legs and begins to walk on air, claiming higher till he was in front of Harry, looming over him with wild scarlet eyes, "But I can touch you now, Harry Potter," it says with a smile of fangs before he presses one of his fingers to Harry's scar, causing the pain behind Harry's eyes to jump tenfold and as Harry screams in pain, the Monster laughs with glee.
The monster lets his hand drop from Harry's head before turning around and floating back to the ground, "But now, My Friends, let us put something to the test, shall we?" it asks, before flicking his wand over his shoulder, without even looking, vanishes the ropes that held Harry and ending the body bind that Harry was under, letting him fall to the ground, landing on his hands and knees, "Let us test, the Savior of the Wizarding World, the Power of the god of death, against the one the mudblood and blood traitors hail as The-Boy-Who-Lived, and see how they stack up, shall we?!" it says, its voice finally climbing higher than a whisper as the death eaters cheer.
The Monster turns around as Harry picks himself off the ground, and with a lazy flick of its wand, it sends Harry's wand sailing to him, landing it at his feet, Harry looks down before gazing back up at the monster before him, " Well, what are you waiting for, Potter, Pick up your wand, Pick it up!" he snaps at Harry.
Harry quickly snatches his wand up off the ground, his eyes never leaving the monster, "You've been taught how to duel, yes? A Wizard's Duel?" the monster asks, smiling at Harry.
"Are-Are you for real?" Harry asks as he bends an eyebrow upwards, "You're just gonna give me my wand back?" he asks, wondering if it was a trap, the monster just laughs.
"When I drop your mangled body off at the gates of Hogwarts Harry Potter, I will have no one say I didn't give you a fighting chance," it says, his tone spoke as if the outcome of their battle had already come, "Now before we begin, manners are necessary, Dumbledore would want you to have some at the end, so bow, Harry Potter, bow to death," the monster says before performing a dramatic and sweeping bow.
And well, how could Harry ignore that big of an opening?
Harry rushes him, planning to shatter his ribcage as he did to Kakaroff at the Yule Ball because if this monster thought that Harry was easy prey, he had another thing coming. Harry gets within arms reach of it easily enough, his arm cocked back and planning to plant his feet and put all his weight behind the swing just like Atalanta had taught him. He sees the monster's scarlet eyes flick to the movement in front of him, but there was no surprise or shock at how fast Harry was moving, just disappointment. Harry doesn't see the monster in front of him flick his wand, but he does feel the battering ram-like force that strikes him, knocking him off his feet and flying through the air before slamming back into the large statue of death hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs just before he gets hits with the first dose of the cruciatus curse.
"See!" the monster yells over Harry's screams, "This is what happens when we let Mudbloods and Muggle-loving filth be in charge of our most prestigious Academy," it says as it turns to look back to its followers, ignoring Harry's screams of pain, "It turns them into savages," it snaps as it turns back to the writhing form of Harry.
The curse was worse than Harry had even imagined, it felt like every nerve was on fire, it felt as if there was no other feeling but pain, that barbed needles were being pushed into every nerve ending and they were being twisted, that it was all happening at once and Harry's world had become nothing more then blinding pain. He tried to reach for the tap that controlled the Hunt, to open it as far as it could go, to dull the pain he was in, but he couldn't focus enough on it to open it, all he knew was pain.
And just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Harry shakes uncontrollably on the ground gasping desperately to refill his lung as he reaches out for his wand that had fallen out of his grasp when he was convulsing, but as soon as his hand wraps around it, he finds himself being flung across the graveyard again, right into another, smaller, gravestone. It breaks as Harry slams into it, Harry rolls across the ground trying to get back to his feet as the world was still a blur of hazy pain around just before he feels himself being grabbed by an invisible force and dragged across the ground, right to the feet of the monster aiming his wand at him.
Another wave of pain hits Harry, somehow more potent than the last one, red hot pins dig into Harry's already raw nerves setting them alight with unbearable pain again as the cruciatus curse hits him for a second time.
"This is their boy who lived?" the monster scoffs, "This is their savior? This pathetic half-blood filth!? This is who they believed defeated me? A god?!" it says with a sneer, before with a wave of its wand it casts a silent imperious curse on Harry, and for one fleeting second does the pain fade as the monster tries to command him.
To have Harry begging to be killed, to end it.
But before the monster could even get the first syllable out, it feels a hunger, far older and far more powerful than any magic the monster knew bite down on its mind causing him to flinch back in shock as that ancient power fills Harry. Harry quickly grabs his wand, holding it between his middle finger and ring finger as he tries to send a stone spear to pierce the heart of the monster that tortured him. But his body was still shaking, his words tripped over his tongue as he pushed himself to his feet, and the monster was ready for him.
With one flick, it vanished Harry's malformed spear…
With a second, it sent a cutting curse at Harry's hand, and the Heir to the Hunt watches as the curse splits his wand down the middle before reaching the soft flesh of his hand, splitting it in two as well before it strikes the leather vanguard under his jacket with enough force to throw his arm back…
And with a third flick, the neon yellow of a piercing curse hits the crux of Harry's elbow, punching through the dragonhide jacket and his elbow with a sickening crunch…
Harry's arm falls limply to his side, just as his wand falls to the earth, broken and useless, he looks up at the monster, his eyes wide as its wand points at his chest, "Crucio," the monster says, and Harry's word dissolved into pain once more as screams are torn from his chest and his body was writhing in white hot pain once more at the feet on the monster who looked down with a bored and detached look.
Harry doesn't know how long the monster held him under the curse, it felt like another eternity before he was vaguely aware he was sent flying again. He slams into the statue of Death once more, before he skids off and falls to the side of the reaper on his back, Harry can feel his body twitching from the aftereffects of the torture curse.
"It is over, Harry Potter, this is where you die," Harry hears the monster say from what sounds like miles away as his vision darkens and he feels the all too familiar cold arms start to wrap around him softly, tenderly, lovingly.
"Avada Kedavra,"
Cold arms tighten as a white-hot rage fills his mind, causing his scar to burn in pain, snapping him awake.
"Greaca, Move!"
Harry rolls to the side, narrowly avoiding the acid-green curse as it strikes the earth and explodes, kicking up a shower of dirt before he jumps to his feet and dives for cover behind the large statue. He winces in pain as his body jerks and spasms, and his arm throbs in pain, he chokes down his scream as the monster begins to taunt him once more.
"Very good, Harry Potter, very good," the monster says snidely, "But is this how the valiant and brave Gryffindors fight? Running away and hiding, how sad," it says with a chuckle, "How far the house of the bold lions have fallen, what would Dumbledore think of you cowering?" Harry could almost hear the smirk on the monster's lips at what it said next, "What would your father think? He died like a true Gryffindor, back straight and on his feet, unlike your mother, who died begging," it says, trying to bait Harry out of cover.
As the monster continues to mock him, Harry slides sideways on the stone, laying down and curling up as the spasms continue, "I can't beat him," Harry thinks to himself as he shakes, "he's too quick, too powerful, I can't do anything to him without my wand and my spear is useless against him, he's going to…, I'm going to ,..." He lets out a shuddering breath as he feels his ruined arm burn along his forearm, but it wasn't painful burning, it was warm and fluttering, he reaches in between his wand holster and pulls out the willow wand of his mother, both of them and grips it in his hand while squeezing his eyes close, "I'm going to die, he's going to kill me," He thinks to himself.
"are you?" another voice asks.
Harry opens his eyes to find himself no longer in the graveyard but back in the restaurant that he and Dora had stopped in to get lunch, he was sitting in the back booth again, tarot cards scattered about and Anand looking at him from across the way her eyebrow raised at him and a smirk on her face.
"Or a better question is, will you let him?" she asks, leaning forward and bracing her arms on the table.
"What do you mean will I let him?" Harry yells at her, "I don't have a wand, my spear won't work on mortals! I can't win against him!" he roars.
But all Anand does is chuckle, "Tell me, Harry, do you know what the major arcane represents?" she says as she gestures at the cards before her.
"What the hell does that matter!?" he yells back at her.
"It represents the journey of the fool-" she says as she gathers up the cards before fanning them out in a straight line before flipping over the first card in the line, The Fool, "-and it matters because it represents you, you're the fool," she says with a smirk.
"I'm not a fool!" Harry yells back.
"No, you're not, not anymore," Anand says as she reaches forward and pushes a card forward, Strength, "You found the courage to take the plunge through shadows and thorns," she says with a smile.
"You stand on the precipice of death, Greaca," his teacher shouted at him from across the throne room, "Show me your resolve not to cross it!"
"You face a great obstacle, and overcome it with your own will and strength," Anand says as she pushes forward another card, The Chariot.
"Now you die Half-Blood!" Roared the dragon as Harry brought his spear back with his own roar, "Gaé Bolg!"
"You gave into temptation, and in doing so accepted yourself for what you truly are," Anand says, sliding forth the third card, The Devil.
"I think you and I are two peas in a pod," the Half-Fae says with a smirk.
"I'm starting to think you were right because I'm having way too much fun for this to be healthy," Harry had yelled back through the fire to see a reflection of his own grin on Fleur's face.
"And now, you have a cataclysm to survive," she says, pushing forward the fourth card, The Tower.
"Bow, Harry Potter, Bow to Death," the monster says with his scarlet eyes gleaming
"The only way to do that is by answering my question, Hero, Hunter, Killer, which one will you embrace?" Anand says as she places the fifth card before Harry, The Magician.
Harry stares at the card blankly, he didn't know what he was out of them nor which one he should embrace, was he the killer? Mercilessly slaughtering all those before him, was he the hunter? Always chasing his prey, or was he the hero? The one who defends those who needed it the most.
The ruined tents were in flames, masked death eaters falling to his arrows as they pierced vital points and died at Harry's hands, The Killer.
The little muggle girl in his arms, her arms and legs twisted awkwardly as he laid her gently on the ground, The Hero.
The Rowan wood tree burst from the ground, closing in on Fleur so she couldn't escape with the full moon hanging over their heads and he smiles as his trap is sprung, The Hunter.
He could keep going, Ginny, the shade of Tom, and the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. Hero, Killer, Hunter.
Saving his sisters from the Acromantula before twisting and dancing around the battlefield cutting through the monsters. Hero, Killer, Hunter.
The Philosopher's Stone, Professor Quirral, Voldemort. Hunter, Killer, Hero.
"I can't answer the question," Harry says, eyes never looking up from the blank card in front of him.
"Oh?" Anand says, sounding curious, "Why ever not?' she asks.
"Because I'm not just one of them," Harry says as he picks up the card from the table, "Because I'm all of them, I'm a killer to my enemies because that's what my teacher trained me to be, I'm a Hero for those who believe in me and who I've saved, and I'm a Hunter because it's what I was born to do," Harry says with conviction as the card begins to burn brightly in his hand and Harry finally looks at Anand in the eyes and she smiles brightly at him.
"Then show them, Magician, what it means to be all three," She says to the boy with fire in his eyes.
"Only the hottest flames," says a tall girl in a silver jacket and holding a blade half the size of herself as she looks at him with a huge grin and shining bright blue eyes.
"Forge the strongest swords," the youngest Hunter with the oldest eyes tells him with a small smile.
"You have the Heart of a Warrior, Greaca," His teacher says, with pride shining in her blood-red eyes, "Bow your head to no one who doesn't have the same,"
"We are Prey to nothing-"
"And no one," Harry says as he opens his eyes and grips the willow wand tighter, and feels his magic begin to slowly filter through it.
Voldemort was wrong when he said Lily Potter's spell was a spell of sacrifice.
Harry closes his eyes as he pushes himself up to his knees, his body still shaking as he calls on the ancient domain he was born to.
The last spell that passed through the wand was a spell of protection.
Harry stands to his feet as he feels his body stopping the spasms that were wracking his body as he feels his pupils split.
A mother's oath…
"He will never touch you,"
Carried on past her final breath…
"I will see Lily Evans' wish and hope come to fruition,"
And the willow wand that Harry had carried in honor of his parents, his Mother Lily, his father James, and his divine parent Artemis, awakens.
But not with sparks…
Nor with a song…
It awakens …
With a ROAR!
and Harry Potter, The Heir to the Hunt, opens his Amber eyes ready to hunt the monster that was trying to hunt him in turn.
[...and the Heir to the Hunt will rise to meet him…]
The Tower.
Past the Halfway point of the card, the Vines turn to bolts of lightning, the dark spaces between the hedges turn to stone blocks that are falling, and at the bottom of the card stands a pale white serpent-like monster, cloaked in black robes, his legs apart and planted as he has his wand raised above his head connecting with the lightning that was destroying the Tower above.
Okay, now shit is about to get real.
The next card,
The Magician.
Kingsaxcul, out.
