πΈπππππππππ
Act II - The Warlock of Hogwarts
Chapter 20 - Audition
According to the Pureblood Directory, a rather obnoxious book authored by Cantankerus Nott in the late 1930's, the Sacred Twenty-Eight was a listing of truly pureblood families with the aim of helping such families preserve the purity of their bloodlines. Any houses that had possible muggle ancestry or blood ties to muggles, like the Potters, the Ollivanders and the Weasleys, were cast off from this list, regardless of the history of their lineage or their contribution in various magical disciplines. Several houses actually felt that there was a certain prestige in being on this list, and adherents to the pureblood supremacy doctrine made quite a big deal out of their inclusion on this list of 'pedigree'. Quite naturally, the government back then, headed by Hector Fawley, had every available copy of the Pureblood Directory collected and burnt by Ministerial decree, thinking that it would halt the growing pureblood extremism in the country.
Logic is the art of going wrong with confidence.
Minister Fawley learnt this the hard way when he was brutally assassinated and hung in the middle of Diagon Alley after a month following the book-burnings. Over the course of the next forty years, the Pureblood Directory, republished under unknown conditions, would serve as an instruction manual that divided Houses over blood purism which eventually led to the First Wizarding War.
That Harry knew this piece of minutia would have been surprising, given how History of Magic was his and Ron's nap time. Fortunately, or unfortunately, given how one looked at it, the History of Magic curriculum did its best to stay out of the Wizengamot and Britain's own past, preferring to shed unnecessary light on the inter-racial conflicts with other races. It was always about goblin rebellions and how wizards ruthlessly crushed them, or how they restricted mermen and werewolves to packs, and sentenced all kinds of dark creatures and magical breeds to living under wizarding dominance. Sirius had once mentioned that if he ever cared to glance at the wall engravings on Gringotts, he'd find mention of those exact rebellions and wars, only with goblins painted as the victors.
History, according to his godfather, was a terrible place to go looking for the truth.
The Sacred Twenty-Eight too, was based on an original concept dating back in 944 CE, when the Wizard's Council, formerly composed of thirteen clans that wielded Family Magic, accepted fifteen other clans that couldn't boast of the same but regardless, held power, resources and skilled witches and wizards, to form a unified council that would protect the interests of the magical populace, and safeguard its axioms against the rest of the muggle world. Using the combined power and magical will of all twenty-eight clans, the first session of the Wizengamot altered Reality itself to will Wizarding Space, something that did not exist until then, into existence. It was how places like Diagon Alley, the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts came into existence. That the collective power of the Wizengamot could be used like a monkey's paw to make wishes come true felt less like magic and more like 'Let there be Light'.
Future sessions had led to the original thirteen of the Wizard's Council to be given the epithet of 'Noble' Houses. Sometime in 1217 CE, the Wizengamot had unanimously voted on bringing the newer clans into its domain to become a greater stronghold, and thus, the original twenty-eight houses gained the title of 'Ancient', signifying their status as the true forebears of the modern-day Wizengamot.
The kind of things you need to mug up when preparing for the first-ever Ascension to Noble Lord status in four centuries.
"The Sacred Twenty-Eight?" Harry asked. "The original one?"
Daphne cocked her head. "What else could it be? It is the Miraculum Operarius. The first twenty-eight."
Miraculum Operarius, thought Harry. That which grants miracles.
His eyes darted towards the Potter hieroglyph and traced it with his fingers. The hyena. The original totem had been subsumed into the Peverell thestral, signifying that despite the Ministry decree calling it as the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, it was truly House Peverell. Even Bodrag, the Gringotts Overlord, had addressed him as Harry Peverell. But no matter where he looked, the Peverell thestral was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps because it had gone extinct before the rise of the Wizengamot?
Then again, it wouldn't have mattered. The Peverells worshipped Death, a fundamental force of the Universe, one that went against the existence of magic itself. If anything, the power of Death would have countered against the wishcrafting the Wizengamot intended.
Wishcrafting. Of course. No doubt using Family Magic. Family Magic and raw will power. The ancients used them to tame magic and bend it to follow rules instead of being a primal force that could alter reality at will.
A primal invasive force, commented a dark portion of his mind. They tamed it before it could corrupt the world. They used its power to manifest something that didn't exist before. Was that what Salazar wanted to achieve? Gain a magic that didn't exist? Was that why he had constructed an enchanted Ananta-Shesha's abode in this place?
The snake golem's words came to mind.
Memory. Containment. The worst kind of magic.
It reminded him of a dark-haired boy, barely sixteen, arising out of the pages of his diary, to possess another human being, consuming her innocent soul so that he could become corporal. Ginny would perish, and Tom, a memory of the long past, would come to life.
Just how had Tom, no, Voldemort, done that? Even to this day, Harry remembered seeing a flash of comprehension and pure terror flicker in Albus Dumbledore's eyes when he had shown him the diary. Whatever he had seen, whatever he had understood, it had shocked and terrified him beyond his wits.
Harry looked around.
Memory. Containment. The worst kind of magic.
The worst kind? Like what Tom did?
He looked around. Tom had definitely found this chamber. In his twisted, egoistic mind, he had associated finding this Chamber with being Salazar Slytherin's heir. Plus he was a Gaunt, and Slytherin, like Daphne said, was a Gaunt himself. Here in the lair where books far more ancient than anything Harry had ever seen were stacked in large shelves all around, Tom Riddle must have studied them, learnt magic so dark and dangerous that when he finally resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was practically a different creature.
A Dark Lord. wielder of magics arcane and unknown.
The worst kind.
And now, Harry had stepped into the same chamber. Like Tom, he was a parselmouth. Like Tom, he too was different. But unlike Tom, he didn't want to twist and corrupt the world using whatever vile magics were contained within. He had no doubt that Tom would use the arcane and deadly magics he had learned from this place against him. It was only natural that Harry sought the same source to understand exactly what Tom had learnt.
A thought rose in him unbidden.
If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.
It was the mantra that made Sirius Black a legendary hit wizard.
And who knew? Maybe this place was what would help him understand his Family magic better?
"Ananta-Shesha," he hissed out aloud. "I'm Harry of Potter, one of the original twenty-eight that adorns your abode. I want access to the books here and the secrets contained within."
The snake-golem stared at him with all seven heads. Harry clenched his fists and stood his ground, his heart pounding harder as he held its gaze. He didn't know why he said what he did earlier, only that his instincts screamed at him that it was the right thing to say, his voice infused with his will.
The emerald eyes flashed, burning even more brightly.
"PROVE WORTH."
The leashed violence in the air hung over him like a sword, ready to tear him down at a moment's notice. Daphne had already sensed something wrong and had bolted right next to him.
The girl had good instincts.
His wand was practically a shaft of ice now, the thestral hair within it singing to his soul, wanting him to violate this place and submerge it beneath the eternal glacier.
But he did none of that. If what he had learnt about the rules of Ascension were true, then being born in a bloodline or carrying a trait wasn't enough to qualify as an heir in the old days. Hell, there were cases when an outsider would be made heir, simply because he or she held greater potential than the existing heirs.
And if he wanted Salazar's legacy, he needed to, as the golem stated, prove his worth.
"I am a Speaker of your tongue. I have fought and killed the King of Serpents in direct combat. As a souvenir, I carry its blood in my very veins. I have won, I have taken the risks, and I have found the Chamber where Salazar left his life's work. I am Harry of Potter, and I claim Salazar Slytherin's legacy as my own."
The eyes flashed again, and brought a gale with it this time around. The earth beneath their feet erupted, solid white rock splitting and cracking, with sharp shards flying upwards at him. Harry flicked his wand, his power lifting himself and Daphne into the air, as a protective orb formed around them. The shards smashed against the orb, wind and water and pure energy rushing at it from all sides, but the orb held β his will pitted against the defences of the Chamber.
"Seriously," he hissed in contempt, "if that's all you can do, just hand over everything and walk away, golem."
He was fortunate that Daphne couldn't understand him, or she'd never let him forget this.
"Harry!" Daphne asked, her own wand in hand and ready. "What's happening?"
He flicked his wand backwards, and the protego orb shifted back, getting a larger distance between them and the serpent.
"You won't believe me even if I tell you."
"We're in the Chamber of Secrets, fighting an orichalcum golem that looks like an ancient runespoor," Daphne snapped. "I'm ready to believe whatever crap comes out of your mouth right now."
Harry laughed. "Would you believe me if I said all of this is an audition?"
Daphne opened her mouth and then shut. "For what?"
One of the runespoor heads sprang outward, an extension charm at work, and smashed itself against the shield.
"For all of this," Harry yelled. "Can you maintain a shield around yourself?"
At her nod, he quickly dissipated the shield, just in time for Daphne to create her own. Not wasting a second, he rolled to his right, and snapped his wand at Daphne and yelled β
"VENTUS MAXIMA!"
A gale sprang out of his wand and hurled Daphne, protected within her orb, by several dozen feet, out of the arena. Two of the heads raised their hood and breathed fire, but Harry was ready for it this time. He poured his will and magic into a thick wall in the air in front of him, as the energies bounced off, the flames deflecting away in different directions. Harry dropped the shield, and rolled to his right, dodging the torrent of flames that came for him.
"REDUCTO!" He yelled, slashing his wand like a whip towards the golem. His spell splashed against the orichalum and dissipated without any visible effect. Dodging his way out of the next blow, he levelled his wand and threw his next spell.
"REDUCTO MAXIMA!"
The exploding curse hit the golem like a freight train hitting a freight train block. That is to say, did nothing. Again.
What the hell was going on?
"HARRY!" Daphne screamed at him. "It's Orichalcum. It dissipates magic."
"DAMN IT!" He yelled, as he leapt backward, as two consecutive torrents of flame came hurling in his direction. He focussed his will and gathered a cannonball of pure force and shot at the incoming flame. The detonation bodily lifted him and hurled him away by several feet, bruising several of his ribs.
"Harry, I'm coming to help β"
"Don't," he yelled back. "This is between me and that golem. Do not interfere."
"But Harry β"
He barely had time to listen to what she had to say next, having to raise a quick shield against the flames that came next. The sheer heat from the flames was making him sweat like anything, and the constant hammering from the other heads wasn't helping matters either.
"Right. Can't talk in full sentences, but can use wandless wordless magic. Makes sense! Oh, yikes!"
The serpent head in the centre lifted its hood upward, and a massive boulder, easily several hundred pounds, erupted out of the ground beneath it. With a hiss, it flung it in his direction like it weighed no more than a quaffle.
Harry wasn't foolish enough to try and stop it. It carried too much momentum. It would be like lifting a mediaeval shield to block a descending war maul. No, the smart thing to do was to give it a single sharp lateral tap just as it began its forward momentum. A few pounds of pressure in the right place, at the right time, would be more effective.
Dropping the shield, he raised his wand and fired an overpowered banisher at its side, smacking the projectile firmly in the flank and shifting its trajectory away from him. The boulder sailed past where he stood, smashing itself against the ground safely behind him, cracking and tearing through the pristine white floor.
"DO NOT. DAMAGE. ROOM." came an angry hiss.
"Then don't throw stuff at me," he hissed back.
"I swear Potter if you die, I'm gonna kill you," Daphne yelled.
"Noted!" he threw back, and focussed on his opponent. There was a subtle shift of gravity around the golem, as light itself seemed to bend as it drew in power. Whatever enchantments Salazar Slytherin had placed upon it was mind-boggling. Then again, a golem tasked to defend and keep the worst kind of magic contained inside this chamber would definitely have to be up to snuff.
Harry took the opportunity to breathe, his eyes went wide open and alert. Focussed. No more reservations. No more holding back for the sake of holding back. He had trained under Sirius and Snape and honed his skill over the last four months. It was time to see exactly where he stood.
Orichalcum dissipated magical spells. That meant he'd have to go elemental. And if this creature loved to throw fire so much, he'd have to give it a taste of the other side.
The hisses reached an unearthly crescendo as the serpent golem met his gaze with all its seven heads, their collective hisses sounding more and more like rusted iron being dragged across a chalkboard.
"PROVE. WORTH. OR DIE."
Impressions of a wild, inexplicable sort sandblasted into his brain β the rush of fire and water and wind smashed against his face, the raw hunger beneath the earth's crust, the strength of the mountains, the force of the untamable ocean. It was anything and everything, like all the elements and environments of this world had taken notice of him and were coming with the sole motive to destroy him. There was a ferocious joy, an adrenaline-filled sense of excitement, passion and savage harmony.
No way this was some enchantment. No. This was β
This was β
His eyes darted at the circles on the floor, the sigils on it glowing with eldritch power.
"Son of a β"
The chorus of howling dogs rose with the power, louder and louder, and a storm lashed at him with the sabres of wind and lances of lightning. The sound was deafening, and the light searing, and the ground itself started to tremble as all seven heads raised their hoods, opened their mouths and hurled hot, white shafts of liquid light at him. They wreathed and recoiled as the wind roared, producing the same noise as a tide breaking upon a sandy shore. A revolving beam of pure heat came for him, ready to evaporate every inch of him.
Shielding from a fire like that was a terrible idea. Even if the flames could be held at bay, the sheer heat would reduce him to a gooey soup. Trying to divert it with wind was an option, but he hadn't tried any wind spells lately. A Banisher or Reductor could work, but it could also accidentally intensify the spell, killing him, and possibly Daphne both in the process. There was no time to prepare, so he raised his wand like a sword and called upon the only thing that could work.
"GLACIUS MAXIMA!"
Augmented by Parseltongue.
A spiralling harpoon of pure winter exploded out of his wand with an arctic-gale howl. It met the flames head-on, forming a thick, hissing blanket of mist in the middle and exploding with the force of a small bomb.
In the midst of a raging storm of ice and fire, Harry held his ground.
As did the snake-golem.
The fire spiral became a thick, more solid shaft as it continued spewing forth towards him like the rage of a vengeful god. His spell, on the other hand, coated all of his surroundings in rimeβ the earth, rocks, even the floor was covered in frost as he desperately countered the intensive heat. Harry pushed every ounce of his magic into the freezing spell.
But it still wasn't enough. They were slowly inching closer towards him.
Magic, he had learned, came from the heart. From one's feelings and deepest desires. It was why dark magic was so easyβ emotions like lust, fear, and anger were easy to feed and grow. But the magic Harry did was more difficult. It was a purer source, harder to tap and harder to keep but ultimately more elegant. His magic. That was at the heart of him. It was a manifestation of what he believed and lived through. It came from his desire that someone stood against darkness when it came to devour others. From his love of treacle tart, and how he'd sometimes cry from happiness and laugh with his friends. From his life, from the hope that he could make things better, even if that better life wasn't reserved for him. From the part of him that cared.
It was something that was always there for him, always, no matter how bad things got.
Something that made him Harry James Potter.
But even that wasn't enough.
More. More power. I need to MAKE IT STOP!
And something else answered.
The gravity around him shifted. He wasn't sure what was happening, but everything seemed to darken just a shade. He could still see it all, only his environment was less colourful. Not grayscale, and certainly not pitch-blank, but almost like the light falling onto them was suddenly less.
It was a kind of power Harry had never felt before. He had seen Voldemort's tides of power, the wrath a Lar could invoke, and most recently a firestorm the likes of which he never thought could exist. And like all magic, there should have been emotion. Rage, anger, defiance, fear, the will to live, survive, be happy, depression, calamityβ
There was always something!
But this was different. Whatever surged within him, it didn't fill the area. Rather, it emptied it in a way he didn't fully understand. Utter stillness spread from him, and it was not the peaceful, tranquil kind. Instead, it was this horrible hunger that drew its power from not being. It was made of the emptiness at the loss of a loved one, the silence between heartbeats, the inevitability of the empty void that waited patiently for the stars to grow cold and burn out.
And it was strong. Very strong.
The wand in his hand sang in ecstasy.
He tried very hard not to dwell on that little fact.
The freezing spell flickered out of existence, and in its place, something cold, eerie, and wrong came out. Something that was translucent, yet not. Something monochromatic, yet there was a tiny speck of colour flickering about. Something that didn't try to freeze the incoming shaft of fire or defend against it.
Instead, it hungrily swallowed it. Fire was energy. Fire was Life. But this wasβ this wasβ
Death.
That which returned everything to a formless state.
Harry pushed.
And for the first time, Ananta-shesha faltered.
If you enjoyed the chapter and our stories, you can support us by giving us feedback as reviews, favorites, and follows. You can also support us on π«πΆπππππ where you can read ahead and view our original works. If you want to talk to us directly, share feedback, or ask us questions, you may have you can join us on our Discord Server. Chapters are updated every Sunday.
You can find links to all of our stories, our π«πΆπππππ, and our Discord at:
ππΎππππ.ππ/theblackstaffandnightmare
π«πΆππππππ can read up to 'TWELVE' chapters ahead of the current release.
Thanks once again, and we hope you continue to enjoy our stories.
~The BlackStaff and NightMarE~