Disclaimer: Everything in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling and whatever companies have a claim to the Harry Potter trademark. I do this for fun and I make no money out of it. Please don't sue me.
A.N.: This story is fully written, I just have some light editing to do on some chapters, so expect regular updates. I was thinking Mondays and Thursdays, because why not, though I'm open to suggestions.
The Last Standing Tower
The last standing tower of Hogwarts trembled under the strength of his spells.
In the dimly lit headmaster's office, Harry Potter stood with his wand raised, facing an army of enchanted training dummies. Sweat glistened on his brow as he focused on the one-sided battle.
"Mirianus!" he cried, sending a bolt of red fire hurtling towards the first dummy. With a satisfying thud, it toppled to the ground, lifeless once more. "Icus!" The second dummy exploded in a cloud of ice. Harry's eyes narrowed as he moved on to the next target, his movements fluid and precise.
Harry moved his arm in a circular motion above his head and a whip of flames erupted from the tip of his wand, creating a tornado of white flames that impacted the rest of the dummies reducing them to smouldering ashes. The portrait of Albus Dumbledore, hanging beside him, winced at the intensity of the spell.
"Mr. Potter," Albus said with a hint of reproach. "I understand the importance of practice, but do be careful not to reduce my old office to cinders."
"Ah, come on, Albus," Harry replied with a grin, flicking his wand to extinguish a flame creeping towards one of the libraries. "I have everything under control."
"Do you now?" Albus asked. "Do I have to remind you of the fate of my precious desk?"
"I should point out that it was a very ugly desk," Harry said.
"The very ugly desk of Godric Gryffindor, first Headmaster of Hogwarts" Albus reproached.
"Point taken," Harry conceded, wiping the sweat from his brow. "But if I'm going to succeed in this, I can't afford to hold back."
"That may be true, my boy," Albus agreed, nodding sagely within the confines of his frame. "But reckless power has a way of causing more harm than good. You've always been one to walk the line between courage and recklessness, I suggest you tread carefully."
"Alright, alright," Harry said with a roll of his eyes, though he couldn't help but smile at their familiar banter. "Besides," he added with a mischievous glint in his eye, "it's not like there's much left of this place to burn down anyway."
"Harry," Albus chided, shaking his head fondly. "You really do know how to test the limits of an old wizard's patience."
"Someone has to keep you on your toes, professor," Harry quipped, flicking his wand to repair the fallen dummies.
The cool night air drifted in through the broken windows, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and decay. The moonlight flowed across the remnants of what was once the headmaster's office, illuminating the ancient runes that Harry had painstakingly etched into the cracked floorboards.
"Harry," Albus' calm voice permeated the silence, "I believe it would be wise to double-check the runes for the ritual once more."
"Again?" Harry sighed, irritation creeping into his voice as he rubbed his eyes. "We've checked them countless times already, Albus."
"Patience is a virtue, my boy," the portrait advised, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. "And in matters such as this, I cannot stress enough the importance of being absolutely certain."
"Fine," Harry grumbled, moving towards the circle of runes. He levitated the portrait off its easel and set it gently against the wall, ensuring that Dumbledore could still see the rune circle clearly. With a flick of his wand, he banished the thin layer of dust on the floor, before settling himself on the worn couch facing the painting.
"Alright, let's do this," he muttered, leaning forward to inspect the first rune. Dumbledore peered at the markings intently, his expression serious despite the light-hearted exchange they'd shared only moments ago.
"Remember, Harry," he reminded him gently, "the smallest mistake could have catastrophic consequences."
Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn't deny the truth in the headmaster's words. As much as he wanted to rush through this process, he knew that there was too much at stake to take any risks.
"Patience, Professor," he echoed, forcing a smile. "I know. You've taught me well."
"Indeed I have," Dumbledore agreed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Now, let's begin."
As they meticulously examined each rune, Harry found himself lost in thought. Everything was riding on the ritual, and yet the familiar back-and-forth with Dumbledore provided a much-needed sense of comfort.
"Sometimes I feel like you're still here with me," he confessed quietly, tracing the outline of a particularly complex rune with his fingertip.
"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore murmured, something akin to sadness flickering in his painted eyes. "In some ways, I am."
And even though Harry knew that the Dumbledore enclosed inside the decorated golden frame was but a mere echo of a man long gone, it was enough – for now.
Heavy velvet curtains draped the room in a hush, the only sounds being the hum of the etched runes and the crackling embers in the fireplace. Harry's gaze wandered over the spines of ancient books lining the walls, their titles indecipherable through the dim warm light cast by the fireplace and the candles spread through the room.
"Harry," Dumbledore began cautiously while Harry turned his attention back to the rune circle, his portrait eyes carrying a weight that seemed to seep out of the canvas. "I still worry about the path you are treading upon. The darkness that has befallen Hogwarts, and the choices you've made since... I fear this may be the last push towards darkness."
"Really, Albus?" Harry shot back, attempting to dodge the conversation with a quip. "One would think saving the world, or at least trying to, would put me firmly in the 'good' category."
"Harry," Dumbledore persisted. "It is not the goal itself that concerns me, but rather the means by which you seek to achieve it. Time travel is an uncertain, dangerous endeavour that threatens more than just yourself."
"Then what am I supposed to do, Albus? Sit around waiting for death?" Harry retorted, frustration bleeding into his voice. "This is our one chance to fix things. To bring them back. I have to do it."
"I know, Harry." Dumbledore softened his tone, understanding the pain behind Harry's words. "But you must remember that the most powerful magic always exerts the highest price."
"A price I'm willing to pay," Harry insisted, clenching his fists. "If I don't try, I'll never know whether I could have changed things. I can't keep living with that."
"Indeed, we may be able to rewrite the past," Dumbledore agreed solemnly. "But we must tread carefully when meddling with the fabric of time."
"Careful, right," Harry murmured. He understood, but Harry's determination outweighed any reservations Dumbledore may have had. This path was the only one he could see, his purpose and destiny intertwined with it. There was no other option for him, no turning back now.
A sombre silence descended upon the room. Both men, one living and one confined to a canvas, pondered the monumental task before them, each lost in his own thoughts.
"Whatever happens, Albus," Harry said finally, breaking the silence, "I just want you to know that I'm grateful for everything you've done for me."
"Harry," Dumbledore replied, his voice imbued with warmth, "it has always been my honour to guide and stand by you. Remember, the choices we make define us – and you have always chosen to be brave."
"Not always" Harry whispered, "but thank you".
The shadows in the room seemed to grow darker, whispering of unknown dangers that lurked within the folds of time. With a sigh, Harry went back to the intricate rune circle etched on the floor. The lines and symbols seemed to dance before his eyes, each one holding the key to an entirely different world.
"Alright, then," he said, crouching down to examine the runes more closely. "Let's get this over with."
"Very well," Dumbledore replied, leaning in inside his portrait as if trying to get a better view of the runes.
"The Ehwaz rune is correct," Harry began, tracing a finger along the rune's angular shape. "And the Mirtha cluster is 45 degrees north-east."
"Good," Dumbledore confirmed.
"Hagalaz is touching Thoras," Harry continued, his brow furrowing at the intricate symbol. "And they intercept with the apex of Mistrah."
"Good," Dumbledore repeated.
"Othala," Harry ran his hand through a particular stroke of the rune. "Seems ok after the fix we did a couple of weeks ago."
"Excellent," Dumbledore praised. "Go on."
"Then there's... wait." Harry paused. "I... I can't find Perthro."
"Perthro?" Dumbledore's painted eyebrows shot up in alarm. "But it must be there. Harry, I am confident we..."
"Oh wait," Harry interrupted, smirking. "It's right here, same as the last hundred times we checked."
"Harry!" Dumbledore scolded, his stern expression betraying a hint of relief. "This is hardly the time for jests."
"I agree," Harry said with fire in his eyes "It's the time for action"
"Patience, my boy, is a virtue that you would do well to cultivate." Albus retorted.
"Patience?" Harry scoffed, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "We don't have time for patience, Albus! Voldemort could find us at any moment, and then we'll lose our chance to perform the ritual."
"Harry," Dumbledore said, his expression softening, "I understand your urgency – truly, I do. But this is a process that should not be wheeched."
"So we should just keep waiting?" Harry asked harshly, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.
"Perhaps not" Dumbledore conceded. "But we must be certain – absolutely certain – before we proceed."
"We checked a thousand times, Albus, " Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "At this point, we are just delaying."
Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore stared at each other, eyes over canvas. Both wizards were shadows of their past selves, but the shadows of great wizards are casted long across the earth.
"You are correct" Albus finally relented.
"I am?" Harry asked, his eyes widened and his mouth slightly open in shock.
"I must admit I am surprised as well," Albus chuckled. "But I suppose it was bound to happen at some point."
Harry stared at the portrait in disbelief, a smirk forming on his face at Dumbledore's jest.
"I believe I have been, perhaps unconsciously, delaying the inevitable," Albus conceded. "But we are, as you say, ready."
"Let's get to it then," Harry said, not wanting to allow Albus any time to change his mind.
Harry moved back towards the rune circle and meticulously cleaned it, using his hands to take the last spect of dust out of it.
The runes hummed beneath his touch, their intricate designs glowing faintly in response to the reverberations of magic in the air. Standing at the centre of the circle, Harry's heart pounded with anticipation, his breaths coming in short gasps.
"Harry," Dumbledore's portrait said gently, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, "I want you to know how very proud I am of you. You have grown into a remarkable wizard, and your bravery knows no bounds."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied quietly, unable to meet the wise old wizard's gaze. His throat felt tight, constricted by the weight of his emotions. "I couldn't have done it without you."
"Remember, my dear boy," Dumbledore continued, his voice wavering ever so slightly, "even in the darkest of times, there is always hope. And love – love is the most powerful magic of all."
Harry nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. "I'll never forget," he whispered, finally looking up at Dumbledore's portrait, his emerald eyes shining in the night. "You've taught me so much, Sir. I just wish... I wish we had more time together."
"Alas, wishing will not change the hands of time, Harry," Dumbledore sighed, offering a sad smile. "But know this: our bond transcends space and time. I will always be with you, in spirit if not in body."
"Goodbye, Professor," Harry said softly, blinking back tears as he raised his wand.
"Goodbye, Harry. May we meet again in kinder times."
With a deep breath, Harry activated the runes. A surge of power rippled through the air, and the runes flared to life, their glow reflecting in the walls of the crumbling tower. The room trembled as if shaken by an invisible giant's grip, and Harry felt himself being pulled apart, his body dissolving into shimmering fragments of light.
As Harry disappeared from sight, a violent explosion rocked the tower, reducing it to rubble in an instant. A spectacular display of colourful magic burst forth from the chaos, painting the night sky with streaks of vibrant hues – a fitting tribute to the unwavering spirit of the Boy Who Lived.