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Act III - Birth Of The Demon
Chapter 22: Destiny And Doom
A pair of bright, yellow eyes opened in the darkness.
Only to blink, and this time, they had turned emerald green.
It took him a while for the memories to come back, but Harry soon realised that he was perched on one of the stone pillars in the dark and empty corridor. How had he come here? Had Hedwigβ
No. Hedwig was away delivering a letter to Gringotts, to Griphook in particular, asking him to send the Potter family pensieve to Hogwarts. After his experience in the summer, showing his memories to Daphne, Joshua and Sirius about his past experiences, and given all the eventful happenings since then, he was slowly gaining an appreciation for that little artefact that allowed him to study thought. Meeting people like Nicolas Flamel, and his discussions with Albus Dumbledore and his findings inside the Lair made it all the more urgent that he had a pensive of his own to store away important memories to study at depth in the future.
As it turned out, pensieves were horrifically expensive objects, but it was also customary for all Ancient families, or at least the ones with enough gold to squander, to have one. Having a pensieve in the Lord's study was practically a mark of wealth. Quite naturally, his grandfather too had one in his office, but it had been safely transported to the Potter Family Vault along with other precious items and portraits. At Sirius's suggestion, Harry had instructed Griphook to begin renovation of the damaged Potter manor, and had planned to put the portraits and other objects back in it after it was all over. As it was with all goblin constructions, the entire thing was placed under powerful obscurity wards, and would remain as such until the construction was complete.
Anyway, Hedwig wasn't there at Hogwarts. And none of this would have happened if he hadn't just transformed and instead slept like a normal β
Wait. That didn't sound right. He did go to sleep last night. In his room. And yet he was here. On a stone pillar. How? Why? And the worst part? He wasn't able to change back yet. Usually he'd have Tonks use the runic ward to cast the Homorphus charm on him, or McGonagall would just cast it directly on him. But Tonks was away, and McGonagall was probably sleeping in her chambers. The same held true for Fleur, and now that he realised it, he had never quite been in her room till date. Wait, was Fleur sleeping in her room or in his? He couldn't remember very well.
Whatever.
And trying to get to Daphne past the Slytherin dungeons was simply out of the question.
So what to do? What to do? He could go to the Chamber of Secrets and wait until morning, but chances were Hecate would swallow him alive. And there would be no way for him to explain to the blasted snake how her human pet had transformed into a hybrid magical owl.
Guess he'd have to spend time outdoors for once.
All by himself.
The urge to hoot at the looming darkness all around was overwhelming. But he resisted and snuck into the empty corridor. Hopping, that is. He could fly, but he could just as well fall on his face and smash his beak. Besides, it wasn't that difficult to walk. Weight distribution wasn't as tough as it had been the first time around, but Merlin, the different sounds coming from different directions made it feel like it was in the middle of day. Who knew that even when sleeping, the students made so much noise? And the dark corners looked a lot brighter than they normally did, though that was probably because of his receptors as an owl.
But what to do? What to do?
Strolling seemed like the best idea at the time. He could camouflage himself in this form perfectly fine, and he doubted the ghosts would pay any heed to him in the pitch blackness. Now only if Mrs. Norris did not cross her pathβ¦. Wait. Would Mrs. Norris attack him? The cat never attacked the owls in the owlery to the best of his knowledge. For a moment, he wondered if he should go find that out.
Darkness swallowed the inside of his head, and a desire to just hop up to an elevated ground, and hoot at the surrounding darkness until morning rose within him. Were owls just that disinclined about adventure? Or were they simply impervious to boredom? Woah, why was he even thinking that much? Did owls even think that much?
His head rolled to the right, and it took some time to adjust it back.
Taking a few steps ahead in a mix of hopping, walking and flapping his wings endlessly, Harry walked up to the end of the corridor, only to find the insanely large staircase ahead of him. This one was leading down to the underworld, that's how big it was. The desire to look deeper into the darkness bubbled within, and he titled forward just a bit and WAITFALLBACKNONOTONTHATSIDARRGHH!
His head hit the first stair with a ponking sound, and he tumbled his way downhill, or rather downstairs. Again and again the ponking came and went, and he thanked his lucky wings β he meant his lucky stars that he could instinctively alter his skin and feathers into scales, or else he'd go all wet and squishy by the time he hit the floor.
And then he slammed face-first into a robe-clad leg that just stood there at the bottom of the endless hill he had tumbled down to. As usual, there was no smell, but he could see thin tendrils exuding from this person's body. Note to himself β it was a girl. How did he know that? Because he did. But that didn't make sense.
But it did.
He peered up into her protuberant silver eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness, and registered the soft, if barely visible smile. Being an owl made it difficult to get the total image from this close. The person crouched down, and Harry noticed the Ravenclaw tie, and that her legs were bereft of shoes.
She scratched on the top of his head.
Ah! That felt divine! Why wouldn't she do that again?
"That's a curious form you've got, Harry Potter."
Yes, those tendrils looked so strange. And funny. They weren't straight lines like everything else, but curly and twisted and went inward and outward while twisting sideward and back into her. He had never seen anything like that. Somehow, he wondered if his own lines looked normal to her. Wait, what was a normal line anyway? What did those lines even mean?
Owl-brain was so strange.
"Hooot!" He let out.
He noticed her long, flowing, dirty-blonde hair next. Her hands went down to pick him up, and he hopped and perched on her left arm. The girl giggled and for once, he could see her face completely.
Wait. Luna?
"Good to see you, Harry Potter."
Well, wasn't this a surprise. After hearing about dunamancy, and her unique abilities, Harry had wanted to go talk to her, but had never ended up finding her. The fourth years did not have DADA over the next two days, and he didn't think it would be right to just go waltzing into Ravenclaw House to see her.
And here she was. In the middle of the night. What were the chances?
"You must have really wanted to see me, Harry Potter," she cooed. "I've never seen a larger Blibbering humdinger infestation on anyone before. It drew me to you."
Harry blinked. Drew her to him?
"Why, of course. You were dreaming. As was I. And your deepest wishes wanted you to find me, and you reached out to me, and I was drawn to you."
Another blink. He was dreaming? All this⦠was a dream? Well, that was better. Wait, how was that better? He had never been in a dream that he knew was a dream. And why wasn't he waking up then? And no, being able to hoot at the darkness was not a good idea to keep dreaming.
Blink. Blink.
Okay, that was too many questions for his owl-brain to handle.
Luna giggled. "You are a funny little owl, Harry Potter." Harry sensed that she was walking further into the darkness, and despite the vision, everything felt distorted and blurry and full of lines. Wait, this was a dream, so obviously nothing about this was real. Which meant Luna Lovegood here wasn't real too β
"You can call me Luna. Or Looney, if you prefer."
And Not-Luna could read his thoughts. Which weren't real either. Because he wasn't real.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Before he realised it, she was already out of the Great Hall, walking barefoot into the Hogwarts grounds. Now that he was in the open, it was a lot noisier. He could hear the sound of hooves further away, which could be anything from centaurs to thestrals. The sound of buzzing flies was slightly more irritating than everything else, and the occasional splash was probably from the lake, where the giant squid was up to its usual shenanigans.
"Firenze was telling me about the new nightwalker in the forest. Perhaps he was referring to you, Harry Potter? Do you spend a lot of time out at night in this form?"
There was something strange about her voice. The aura of dottiness that he had sensed in her back on the train was still there in the background, but here, it felt⦠more. Like she was the most real thing in this dream-world. More than him, more than the forest, the creatures, and even the castle itself. Like, her presence was so heavy that it exerted gravity, and no matter what he did, he couldn't just ignore her. As if no matter what way he took, whatever choices he made, it would eventually lead him to cross paths with her.
Like she was⦠destiny.
Woah! That was a weird thought.
Luna giggled. "You flatter me, Harry Potter. But this is my dream. Shouldn't I be the most important person here?"
Harry wanted to argue that this was his dream too.
"Yes, but you are a tiny owl. I'm⦠me. Obviously I'm far more noticeable than you are."
Harry wanted to object about the tiny statement, but decided to not bring his bruised ego into this already bizarre conversation. No, instead, he could focus on things he wanted to talk to her about. Like dunamancy.
He had been absolutely flabbergasted when Dumbledore had described her as a dunamantist. But the more he read about the ability in the Lair, the more it made sense to him. Unlike Ginny and Neville, Luna had been perfectly content to just watch the runespoor rejecting the names, and then she had uttered the name 'Hecate' with a finality in her voice, as if somehow, it absolutely had to the one, and surprisingly enough, the runespoor had accepted it and moulted as a result. Had she, intentionally or otherwise, performed Dunamancy to trigger the moulting process?
It bore thinking upon.
And by that logic, had Luna done something similar when she had prodded Neville's plant with the quill? Come to think of it, Luna was the only one that had been safe from all the puss, and also effectively ended Cho's tirade from devolving things further.
Luna giggled. "I suppose that is right. But I don't know what this is, Harry Potter. I've always been like this. If my mum was alive, she could have told me more, but she died."
Harry tilted his head, or tried to anyway. He ended up rotating it upside down.
That brought a giggle out of her. "Oh, you want to know about my mother? Her name was Pandora."
"Hoot!"
He had heard about Pandora. Babbling had mentioned her. Spellcrafter. Unspeakable.
"She was quite an extraordinary witch, you know. But she liked to experiment. And then one day, one of her spells went badly wrong. I was nine."
"Hoot!"
"Yes, it was rather horrible. I do feel bad about it sometimes. But I've got dad."
Flashes of a certain mirror came to mind.
"Oooohβ¦." cooed the girl, bubbling with enthusiasm, as if she hadn't just been talking about her mum's sudden demise. "That was an interesting mirror. Do you know where that is?"
Harry thought back to his first-year.
"Pity," she said slowly. "I'd have liked to see it. Or maybe it's better I didn't. A mirror that shows us what we want? I think I would have gone insane just by looking at it."
Harry tilted his head to the opposite direction, and ended up rotating it again.
"Why, you ask? Because the nargles wouldn't stop crowding me. They'd come from all directions, and buzz and swim and take over the world. So many nargles, so many nargles, so many so many so many nargles coming in and out and going into nowhere⦠And I don't even have my spectrespecs any longer. The wrackspurt infestation in the sixth-year dorms broke them."
Harry narrowed his large, bulbous eyes. Back on the train, he had some inkling that the dotty girl was being bullied by others, given how she casually described herself as Looney and someone that Ginny tolerated, there was a chance that not everything was right in the Raven's nest. Maybe he'd have to look into it.
"Oh no, don't you worry. I always find a way to get what the wrackspurts take from me, Harry Potter. I am special that way. Just like you." She paused, and bit her lip. "A word to the wise though, do not ever talk of the Mirror to me when you meet me in the waking world." She slowly caressed his thick bill. "Can you do that for me, Harry Potter?"
Blink.
"Aren't you the curious little owl?" She scratched right below his little 'horns', and Harry let out a pleased hoot.
Luna's expression shifted slightly. Like she was⦠thinking about something intense.
"Wishes are dangerous, Harry Potter," she said softly, continuing to caress him. "If I have a wish, I will look for a way to find it. Get it. No matter what needs to⦠change. I am inquisitive that way. And I will keep thinking, and the nargles will keep coming at me. They make it⦠hurt."
Something told Harry that she wasn't quite talking about possible bullying from her classmates. Professor Dumbledore had said that Dunamancy was about operating causality and probability on a deepest level. The books in the Lair described a dunamantist as someone that could see through the ebbs and flows of time, and mould events to happen in ways that best served them. But he hadn't seen Luna ever do something like that. If she had the power, shouldn't she have just made it that no one bullied her?
His thoughts vanished as Luna petted him on his head.
"You silly little thing," she said, a waft of sadness in her tone. "Even with two eyes, you are still so blind."
Blink.
Luna decided she had walked enough, and decided to sit down. Harry recognized that they had arrived at the edge of the Black lake. With a hoot, he hopped down from her arm to the ground beside her.
"You and I are not so different you know," she said softly. "And you and I are also reverses of one another. You, that lies beyond Magic. Me, that lies in the deepest heart of it. You, who remembers fondly. I, who imagines sadly. You, who takes colour and wonder from this world, and I, who fills it back with endless shades. You are cold, yet not so cold that it freezes the heart altogether. I am expansion, and yet I let the darkness fester, soil and rot the precious garden."
He looked up at her, as his inner neanderthal spluttered and went on a mental rampage through a hypothetical produce section, knocking over shelves and splattering fruit everywhere in sheer frustration, screaming. Cryptic talk was so not for him.
Luna giggled, but then a gentle sadness came across her. "Death carries the bliss of ignorance. That is good. Better to consign our fates to fickle chance, than know it all and suffer. I am envious of you, Harry Potter."
He pondered over her words for like, ten whole seconds, and decided that no, she was wrong. It was better to know than to not know.
"Why?" Luna challenged.
Because you couldn't make a choice without knowledge, he wanted to say. Because everything in his life had happened the way it did because people kept secrets from him and each other. If his parents had been clear about their choice of secret-keepers, Sirius would've never ended up in prison. If his aunt Petunia had been truthful about her sister being a witch and the way they died, he wouldn't have grown up thinking he was a freak whose parents had died in a case of drunk driving. If Dumbledore had been more forthcoming about Harry's own heritage, maybe he would have known all this much earlier, and wouldn't have had to leave like a pariah for two of the last four years.
"But what if the knowledge haunts you? Harms you? Isolates you?"
Harry tilted his head.
Luna's silvery eyes shone in the darkness. Now that he noticed it, they reminded him of Ollivander.
"You do not know what it is for me, Harry Potter. What is at stake, should you choose to know. If you walk the path I do, what is seen cannot be unseen, and what is known cannot be unknown. The waters are treacherous, they trick and mislead you. You may never know a night's peace again. Knowledge is power, but power can be used to do good, and to cause harm. Power protects like a mother's love, and power destroys tooβ¦."
Like a maledictus, thought Harry. Or a cruel curse that impairs the fates of generations.
"Yes," she smiled, face full of melancholy. "Can you imagine me, standing in front of that beautiful mirror, looking at my mum, and going through infinite ways, infinite timelines, and infinite changes in Reality, thinking, thinking, thinking, until I can somehow, bring her back? Just thinking about it hurts me now, and we are isolated in this dream. In the waking world, it would have driven me insane. Do you think that is better than being left in ignorance?"
Harry could not frown, so he hooted again.
Regardless of the suffering that lay ahead, he could not stand to be in the darkness of ignorance. Even if it meant he would suffer, even if it meant that he would lose his peace, he would rather go through those than face his tribulations ignorant of what harm lay ahead ensnaring him and those he cared about.
An emotion flickered across Luna's face β gentle pain and regret.
"So be it," she said quietly. "Then this is the knowledge I have for you, 'Arry Potter. People come, people go. The sun rises and sets. The seasons turn and turn. But you and I will keep dancing all the way till the end." She paused. "Come to think of it, maybe I should've asked you out for a dance last year. It would have been nice practice, you know, in the waking world."
"Hoot?"
"Oh, you wonder why? It's simple, Harry Potter. You see, you are my Destiny, and you are my Doom."
And then she touched him right between his eyes.
β¦.
β¦.
β¦.
Harry woke up. That had been an odd dream. Assuming that it even was, a dream. Surprisingly enough, his sheets weren't tattered. Did that mean that he hadn't even morphed in his sleep?
Huh. That was a surprise. In a good way.
He felt the covers shift to his right, and registered the naked form of Fleur Delacour sleeping right next to him, cuddled within the satin sheets. Now that he remembered it, she did join him last night, and they even had dinner together, after which she had made him go through some of the newer modifications to the MORS family of spells that they were developing using his Death thaumaturgy.
Why hadn't he remembered that earlier in his dream? Come to think of it, where exactly was that corridor he had found himself in?
Fleur was still fast asleep, if her deep breaths were any clue. She looked so innocent like that. He hadn't quite ever said this out loud, but he loved watching her sleep. During those moments, she ceased being a seductress that kept trying to make him blush. She wasn't the veela either, that wanted to feed on his emotions and his lifeforce, only to be soundly rebuffed by his Death-powers. She wasn't the witch either, wanting to prove herself in a bigoted world that she was more than just a pretty face and a sexual allure. She was just⦠Fleur.
"Hoot!"
Harry blinked, and looked towards his window sill, where Hedwig was perched upon, with a small wrapped parcel sitting inconspicuously on the table next to the window. Making sure not to disturb her rest, Harry slowly and silently got off the bed, and walked towards his familiar, petting her softly, as Hedwig hooted in pleasure. He scratched her head exactly like Luna had done to him in his sleep, and Hedwig liked that too, given how she all but pushed her feathery head into his palm, as if urging him to do more.
Smiling, he summoned a piece of bacon from his dining table for his familiar, who began to feast on it with relish. Seeing her so content, he grabbed the little parcel, and ripped it open. It was a box designed in the same way as bottomless pouches, only enchanted to be unbreakable and inlaid with cushioning charms, to keep the inner contents safe from damage. He grabbed the sides of the pensieve, and pulled it out, and found that unlike Dumbledore's which looked like a shallow stone basin, his actually looked far more ornate, crafted in the shape of a large goblet, with runes carved all along its sides. As if activated by his touch, the silvery water-like liquid began to form at the base, only to froth and expand and in no time, filled up the entire goblet.
"Good girl," he told Hedwig. "This will come in real handy."
"'Arry?"
He turned around, and saw Fleur peering at him from within the covers. Even with her hair all over the place, and that hilariously scrunched up just-woken-up expression on her face, she looked absolutely delectable.
"Morning," he told her.
"What's β Is that a pensieve?"
He smiled. "Yes. It's from my family vault. I brought it here so that I could study⦠memories."
"Memories," said Fleur, frowning. Something about her expression felt strange, conflicted. "Whose?"
"Mostly mine," Harry admitted. "I think."
Her expression shifted again, this time into a teasing grin. "You don't 'ave to rewatch your memories of our lovemaking, mon amour! I am very 'appy to give you a repeat performance. As many times as you want."
He rolled his eyes. "Don't you 'ave classes to take?"
"Oui," said Fleur. "But if you want, I can let you feel me up a leetle before zat."
He glanced at her half-revealed form, and then back at her smirking face. "Get up, or you'll be late."
"Oh, you want to see me completely," said Fleur saucily. "Why didn't you say that earlier?"
It seemed Fleur was up to her usual shenanigans. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. She tended to engage in some morning lovemaking before washing up and leaving for her classes. Or to the workshop.
"Can't," said Harry. "Have a lot to do today."
"Why?" She asked. "You don't have any Defence classes. I checked."
He didn't, which was why he wanted to spend the time at the Lair today. Daphne would be busy attending classes for almost the entire day, given how they had double Potions, Charms, History of Magic, Astronomy and Creatures. And it was a Thursday, the only day on his schedule where he didn't have a single DADA class to teach. And with the Double Potions, he doubted even Snape would be wanting to get him in detention.
The irony that Severus Snape, a former Death Eater, was training him in Dark Magic, not its defence but actual, dangerous, horribly twisted Dark Magic, was not lost on him.
"No classes, yes," he admitted. "But I'll be gone for the most of the day."
"Where?"
"Uh, work," he said lamely. He hadn't yet brought Fleur into the Lair business. Apart from the fact that Daphne saw the Lair as a place that belonged to just the two of them, he also didn't want to bring too many people into the Lair's secret. It wasn't that he didn't trust Fleur, but she had nothing to do with the Lair in the first place.
"Work?" asked Fleur, arching an eyebrow.
"Yes," he said, hoping his poker face was as good as he thought it was. "Dumbledore and I discussed some stuff recently. About⦠Well, about Voldemort. I need to go do certain things today about that."
"Does the 'Eadmaster know?"
Damn it. "Er⦠no, he doesn't, and I'd like it if it remains that way."
She frowned. "Then take me with you."
"That⦠that isn't necessary, Fleur."
"Why?"
Damn it. This was getting difficult. Truth be told, he was going to spend his entire day at the Lair if possible. He had a lot weighing on his mind, and he would be taking his pensieve there, and start reading on Dunamancy and the hundred and seven different things on his mind.
He exhaled. He'd have to go with a half-truth this time.
"I'm going to be in the Chamber of Secrets."
She scrunched her face. "Zat big, ugly, chamber? Why?"
"Well, I have something to talk to Hecate, and I need to test some stuff with my Death powers. Something that might help me against Voldemort. Obviously I can't do it here, because it will damage the enchantments, and for all I know, will get me kicked out of Hogwarts. The Chamber on the other hand, I have no problems destroying."
"And zat is the truth?"
"Yes," he paused. "Well, mostly."
She frowned. "'Arry, you're making me worried."
"Don't," he said. "Look, haven't you been saying how I'm mostly away all day? I spend a lot of time in the Chamber, practising and trying new things. Trying to⦠understand what I can do with Parseltongue, as well as my Death powers. It feels safer, you know, down there."
"Then why wouldn't you take me with you?"
"I will. Just not today. I have a lot of experiments planned, and I'd rather not have an accident like I had with Daphne that day in the Chamber."
Her expression twisted. "Zat. Oui, I remember that day."
"See?"
She scowled and pouted. "Fine. So be eet. I zot men liked these," she said, puffing out her chest and arching her back, causing her breasts to thrust out towards him. "I will remember zis, 'Arry will be days and weeks and months before you get another chance at feeling these again."
He cocked his head. "You realise that goes both ways, right?"
Fleur huffed and crossed her arms. "Cochon! Fine. I suppose if you ask nicely, I can cut that time down to a few minutes."
Snorting, Harry shook his head. "Go wash up. You've a class to teach."
Muttering about leetle boys and busy wizards with no appreciation of beauty, Fleur stomped her way to the bathroom, leaving him alone in the room with Hedwig and the swirling liquid inside the Potter pensieve. Summoning his wand using his Potter ring β a nifty trick he had now gotten comfortable with β he tapped the side of his head, and focussed on the dream he had just seen, and dragged it out, depositing it into one of the many flasks fitted to the sides of the device. Upon a second look, he found that there were several flasks that were filled with memories from before, probably something that was stored by his grandfather. He'd probably check them out later.
His thoughts settled on Luna Lovegood. The more he got to know about the power of dunamancy, the more twisted and wondrous it felt. A power to manipulate causality, and destiny itself. Regardless of the poetry, Luna had been right about one thing β the two of them were complete reverses of each other. Whereas becoming Death's Avatar by mastering all three Hallows would grant him a power to completely annihilate Magic out of Existence, a powerful dunamantist could very well find the right path that would lead to a most favourable outcome for Family Magics, and by extension, all Magic to reign supreme.
Maybe some part of him even realised it. Realised that the two of them were inevitably tied in some twisted game of Fate. One that was beyond the reach of Magic, but still tossed around in the waves of Fate; and another, that could weave Magic to alter Fate itself, but would not survive Death's touch.
Polar opposites.
You are my Destiny, Harry Potter, she had said. And you are my Doom.
Poetry or not, it had been incredibly apt.
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