Arc 7 Part 1.
Onslaught.
As Harry finished telling Ron the entire story, they didn't realize but they had reached the common room. The room was just as homely, inviting and comfortable as it had been when Harry stepped into it the first time back in his first year. Honestly, he thought, some things never change and this common room was one of them.
As they began walking up the stairs to get back, a sudden thought struck him which caused him to turn back to Ron.
"Mate," he began.
"Yeah?" Ron replied back, opening the door to the dormitory as both of them and the rest of the boys in their year followed suit.
"I actually got an appointment with Dumbledore. I just remembered Snape saying I gotta go to Dumbledore when the clock strikes twelve and I think it's midnight already. What's the time?" He asked.
Ron cast and swore.
" Shit, Harry, it's 11:50. Get a jumper on, get your cloak and fucking GO!"
"Wha- oh bloody buggering hell."
As he neared Dumbledore's office, Harry's was panting due to exhaustion from the long run all the way from the Gryffindor common room. As closed in on the door, his heart still hammering in his chest, he could hear Dumbledore talking to what sounded like a loud and aggravated Myhaver. Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry stuck by and kept on listening.
"-kidding me Dumbledore? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"
"I assure you not, Myhaver. His head just materialized right in front of my eyes on this desk you have your hands on."
As an immediate reflex, Myhaver pulled his hands back from the table. With a tear strained voice, he asked, "But who could it be? He doesn't have any immediate enemies from what I remember. He also managed to keep Voldemort off of his back for the most part." While eavesdropping, Harry thought, "Interesting, so whosoever they are talking about must be bloody skilled."
Back in the office, Dumbledore snapped his fingers and pointed towards him at that and said, "That's what I am saying, dear boy. He kept him off of his back and was undetected for the most part and not 'always'.
Myhaver licked his lips in thought at that.
"But when, Dumbledore? When was he killed?"
But however, to Harry's surprise, instead of answering him, he called out, "You can come in now, Harry. There is no need for you to be eavesdropping."
Scratching the back of his neck, he said the password and entered his office.
As he entered, he took notice of how his office didn't seem to change. All the same tinkering gadgets, old books, ancient tomes, souvenirs from around the world, they all seemed to add a specific essence to Dumbledore's office. While these were there, the portraits of the previous Headmasters, the presence of Fawkes really sold the atmosphere to be one of wisdom, magic and homeliness.
As Harry's eyes roamed around the scene, he barely took notice of Dumbledore who was sitting down and smiling at him, the moonlight falling on him and Myhaver. Speaking of which, he looked morose and just simply looked over to Harry with a glint of sadness in his eyes and his lower lip began to tremble but to no result which Harry assumed was an effort to not to cry for whatever reason he was about to.
"Hello there Harry," Dumbledore began with a smile and continued, "I was wondering when would you come."
Harry visibly shrugged and said, "I mean, I did remember to come so there's that."
"True, please take a seat- and no, don't pick it up, I want to talk. Just please sit down."
Harry sat down with an amused glint in his eye, thinking on his Dumbledore knew what he was thinking to do when his eyes weren't even properly looking at him.
Licking his lips, Harry decided to begin first.
"Professor, what were you exactly talking about before I entered the room? Who died?" He then turned to Myhaver and asked the same thing, "Who exactly died?"
Expectantly waiting for an answer, Harry looked at Dumbledore and then looked back at Myhaver and then looked at Dumbledore again, waiting for them to say something.
"I think you should tell him Albus. Tell him how he died."
Harry interjected while looking back at Dumbledore, "How who died?" he asked.
Dumbledore let out a sigh as he couldn't decide how would he phrase this sentence. He took a deep breath and said, "Horace Slughorn died today. As I was right in this chair, waiting for Credence to come-"
"Credence?"
Realizing he interrupted him rudely, Harry apologized, "Sorry about that but Credence? Who exactly is Credence?"
Dumbledore had an unreadable expression on his face as he said, "Professor Barebone, Harry. Your new potions teacher."
As realization dawned upon his face, he could only say, "Interesting..."
Dumbledore gave a brief nod and continued.
"As I was saying, I sat here waiting for Credence to come while I kept stroking Fawkes but wonder my surprise as I saw my old friend's head - materialized right in front of me - on this very desk."
Harry could only widen his eyes at that.
Turning towards the window which had moonlight streaming through, Dumbledore said, "I may not know what killed him- or who for that matter but enough is ENOUGH," at that, Dumbledore slammed his fist down on the desk in and as it seemed to tremble, the other occupants in the room felt the steady waves of magic pour off of the eccentric old Headmaster and could easily understand why Dumbledore was the only one Voldemort ever feared.
"We are losing enough members in this war and we already have lost enough in the last one. Horace would've been a valuable asset towards the war effort but alas, he has been killed," he looked at both of the people present in this room and said, "Along with Horace, we kept losing numerous in the last war just like this and I won't stand for it anymore."
Then, he looked into Harry's emerald eyes and said, "We are going to stand up and bring this fight to him. I am tired of playing on the defensive and not being able to do anything. The war is coming, and we all best be ready for it. Do you understand, Harry?"
Harry nodded fervently.
As Dumbledore said that, he immediately looked over towards the window as he felt a change in the air. With his brows furrowing in intrigue, he looked back at Myhaver and asked, "Did you feel that?"
"I did."
"I did so too, sir."
Dumbledore let out a sigh and said, "Just as I expected. Tom didn't bother to think for a second and he is beginning to bring the gods through."
Harry wasn't more confused. And to his surprise, even Myhaver was shocked.
"Albus, you don't mean-"
"I- I am not sure. He might've brought him through or someone else, but all I know, that he is bringing in someone and chaos is going to follow."
Harry tried to get a word in this conversation but all he could do was listen to it.
"Myhaver, send a word to our foreign friends while I tend to the German Ministry personally. Tell them that if they see any sort of ancient Titan god, like that of the Camazotz or any ancient deity causing havoc, they need to report it to Monarch, immediately."
"Got it."
"Yes, now off you go Myhaver."
"But hold on."
Dumbledore let out an irritated huff and asked, " What?"
"How am I supposed to tell them without revealing that Voldemort is back? And how will they contact Monarch?"
"You are not supposed to hide it, Myhaver. He will soon become a global threat and I feel that he might just become worse than Grindelwald ever was if we don't stop him from bringing the gods through," Dumbledore got up, leaned closer towards Myhaver's face and said, "He already has brought in one of them. There is no telling if he brings them all in because if he does, then may Merlin save us all. And as for contacting Monarch, they can just floo-call the chief executives. Now off you go."
And with that, Myhaver got up and left. Harry never saw Dumbledore this angry ever before. He never saw him this let loose. Dumbledore was always the one who was the calmest in most situations and never lost his cool. But this, was something he had never witnessed before. Thinking about it for a brief moment, Harry finally understood what he was exactly witnessing. Gone was the old Headmaster who loved to snack on lemon drops, and here is the war general Albus Dumbledore, defeater of Grindelwald, leader of the light, who led the war against Grindelwald back in the nineteen forties and won.
He looked at Dumbledore as if to ask whether he should go or not. Dumbledore caught on and said, "No Harry, I want to talk."
"About what, Professor?"
"About- things."
Harry furrowed his eyebrows at that and said, "Go on."
Dumbledore looked outside the window and into the distance where he could see an injured Unicorn limping over to the lake, shining all the while in the ink-black cover of the night due and said, "When you stepped through the doors of the great hall and sat on the stool to be sorted for the very first time," he then grasped Harry's hands and continued as his throat was choking up.
"I remembered a vow- one that I had made to yourself and my parents that I will always look after you if something happens to them in the war. Since Tom murdered them, I tried to do what I thought was right but- I- I failed."
Harry couldn't understand where was he trying to go with this. But from his time spent with Dumbledore, he knew this man well enough to know that there is more to this.
"For long, I thought Voldemort will make his return after you have grown stronger, after you have become better but from what I had witnessed him do, I wasn't all that sure, dear boy."
Dumbledore got up, put his hands behind his back and began pacing to and fro around Harry and took deep breaths to calm himself. Then, he continued talking.
"The massacres he had caused in his Titan form was enough for us to lose the little hope we had. Things were looking dark, people were going missing, major cities were being destroyed, all because of this war," he then walked over to his shelf, rummaged through a stack of newspapers and pulled out a box dated 1979-1980.
"Sir-"
Dumbledore put up a finger and said, "Just a moment Harry..."
As he kept rummaging through the old box, he handed Harry a newspaper and said, "Read this one."
Harry took the dusty paper in his hands and his first instinct was to blow off the heaps of dust which was on it. As he cleared it, the first words which he saw confused him more than anything.
THREE-HEADED DRAGON ATTACKS WIZARDING LONDON.
By: Nathaniel Wilberg
He looked up with confusion evident in his eyes and asked, "Professor, what is this?"
Dumbledore looked morose as he said, "Report of Voldemort's first attack as Ghidorah. This attack led to the Brighton massacre, the destruction of Liverpool and the Titan brawl at Bristol," at that Dumbledore bent over the box and began rummaging through it. As he did so, he said, "Read on while I hand you more newspapers on the events I said."
Harry held a stare at Dumbledore and slowly looked away towards the paper as he drawled, "Alright…"
A few moments later, as he finished reading it, Dumbledore handed him another newspaper which looked to be even bigger.
THE VOICE OF THE STORMS STRIKES AGAIN!
By: Christopher Schultz.
That is right my dear readers, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or to what some think, King Ghidorah, strikes Wizarding Britain again. This time, the city was Birmingham and the total counted causalities crossed the count of 20,000. Around 16,000 of those are deaths and the rest are the injured ones. But this doesn't end here, there are COUNTLESS more people missing.
Questions have been asked to few of the survivors at Birmingham and read on what they have to say.
Mr.Waltz who was first asked about the attack had the following to say.
"I had just apparated back from the market place when all of a sudden the winds picked up and began flowing at an abnormally and thi-these big yellow bolts of electricity began whizzing over my head. As I turned around to see where did that come from, th-there he was."
At this point, Mr.Waltz could not say any further about the attack as he had a mental breakdown remembering the incident. So, his friend, Will Reacher, was asked about the attack and he had the following to say.
"Chris was right. I was sitting by my window at the time and I saw it all happen. The winds began flowing at such a fast rate that I even saw a kid get picked up by those winds and he got his head smashed against the wall. In the distance, I swear I could see The Dark Lord transforming into this positively massive three-headed-dragon which only was cited in mythology and is only a legend. King Ghidorah."
Things aren't looking good at all, my dear citizens. This may very well be the last few years of Wizarding Britain as it looks like this war is going to bring in an innumerable number of victims.
There are darker times ahead, citizens, may Merlin save us all.
As Harry finished reading, he looked up to Dumbledore with an inquisitive look and seeing that, Dumbledore said, "This is not all, Harry. I will hand you the newspapers which you can read in your own time but now, I have something to show you," at that, Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and asked, "If I may?"
"Yes sir, go on."
Dumbledore went on over to his cabinet, opened it, put his Pensieve on his desk and before Harry could say anything, he put his wand on his temple and a smoky-silvery thread was pulled out as Dumbledore moved his wand away. Harry immediately recognized what the thread was. A memory.
"Professor, what is this memory about?"
Dumbledore turned his head and looked at him with his old blue eyes and said, "The Bristol Brawl. An unfortunate number of people were killed that day in Bristol. Through this, you'll also get an idea of how powerful Voldemort is when he has transformed into Ghidorah."
As he said that, he put his hand on Harry's shoulder and said, "After you, Harry."
Harry put his finger into the Pensieve and was immediately sucked into the memory.
He landed on the ground with a loud thump. His head was spinning, his ears were ringing, and worst of all, it was bloody nighttime. He immediately put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wand and cast a Lumos. As far as he could see, there was nothing in front of him apart from an abundance of trees.
'Ok, so it looks like I landed in a forest. But why a forest of all places?' he thought.
As he moved his wand around him, he noticed on what he landed was a pile of leaves of all things. It didn't take him more than a second to realize that he was being watched. He quickly moved his wand towards the direction he was sure he was being watched from and had a spell ready on his lips only to see Dumbledore walking down a small hill towards him.
"Professor?"
Hearing no response, he asked again, "Professor?"
As Dumbledore neared, Harry immediately knew it wasn't his Dumbledore, so to speak.
His beard was shorter, he wore a dark blue trench coat with an equally dark top hat and a grin look on his face. Harry watched on as this Dumbledore walked on towards the trees and out of sight. Deciding to follow him, Harry raced in the direction that Dumbledore went through and saw him crossing a road while his Dumbledore was waiting for him.
He took Harry's arm and said, "Stick close to me as we have to follow my other self here."
Harry nodded in response.
As they walked behind the memory-Dumbledore, Harry looked around Bristol and absorbed the atmosphere of it. The river running through the city, the tall buildings and the cars bustling by with all this chatter going on made Harry feel good that despite of the looking war, there were moments where you could find solace and basically have a glance how life used to be. His face immediately dropped down to a frown because he realized that if a Titan brawl had happened in Bristol, then a huge number of these people will very likely die. Wait, Dumbledore did say that an unfortunate number of people had died in Bristol. But how many? There have to be wizards here, right? Right?
It then clicked within Harry.
Bristol was a muggle majority city with a few wizards and if there indeed were to be a Titan brawl, then the destruction and deaths must've been numerous.
Holy fuck.
As realization hit him, his heart began slowing down as dread built up within him, his hands began sweating and he began to panic as a sensation of pure emptiness began to settle within Harry. But then he remembered that he was in a memory so his panic turned into immediate sadness as he realized he could only be there and watch the massacre happen.
Dumbledore noticed Harry's rollercoaster of emotions but didn't comment as he himself began to remember what he felt when he was going to the site and the aftermath of the battle.
It truly was an unfortunate event.
They could only do nothing but watch as the younger Dumbledore walked away from a bar and into a big white building which Harry didn't recognize but his old Headmaster sure did.
They swiftly entered the building themselves and kept following Dumbledore's younger self. They followed him to the third floor, watched him turn right and enter a room with a sign, "For the Phoenix Only."
Seeing this, Harry face-palmed and Dumbledore chuckled at that.
Harry could only mutter as they followed the younger Dumbledore, "Totally inconspicuous, totally not going to attract unwanted attention…"
They entered the room and Harry was surprised to see nearly nobody present. The room was like a version of the kitchen at Number 12 Grimmauld Place but way cleaner, neater and more of a better place to be in. From the entry point, right in front of them was a big dining table with a stove, oven, kitchen cabinets behind and diagonal to them, was another doorway which had a stairwell.
"Sirius? Caradoc? Anyone here?"
No answer. As the other-Dumbledore was about to pull his wand out, all of them heard slow footsteps and the other Dumbledore as a result, pointed his wand towards the direction the footsteps were coming from.
The door opened and in came in Caradoc Dearborn.
Caradoc was a short man, only a couple of inches taller than Harry, looked to be in his late twenties with a full beard, wearing a dark brown pair of trousers with no shirt.
Caradoc asked, "What is it, Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore pocketed his wand and asked back, "Where are the others?"
"They haven't returned yet. Only Fredrick has made a return. Last I heard of Potter and his friends were that all of em were safe in Godric's Hollow. But which house? I don't ruddy know."
Dumbledore then waved his hand and said, "Call Fredrick then, I want to talk to him."
Caradoc then went up the stairwell and all the memory-Dumbledore, Harry and the real Dumbledore could hear was, "FREDRICK! WHERE ARE YA?"
A more distant yell could be heard across from Caradoc which also was above and diagonally right from the trio in the kitchen.
"WHAT IS IT DEARBORN?"
"DUMBLEDORE WANTS TO TALK TO YA!"
"ALRIGHT HOLD ON! DON'T GET YOUR KNICKERS IN A TWIST! I AM COMIN'!"
And after that, they heard from what they could assume was Fredrick running down the stairs to meet Dumbledore.
"MERLIN, FRED! QUIT RUNNING!" Caradoc yelled but by that time, this 'Fredrick' had reached the kitchen. This person, was Fredrick Fenwick, brother of Benjamin Fenwick. He was a fairly tall man, with brown hair and equally brown eyes. His right arm was covered in silver which Harry assumed to be a result of his right arm being chopped off.
He wore a half-sleeve brown shirt with a pair of black trousers which really brought his silver arm in focus.
"You called for me, Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "Actually, yes. As I had requested you to get information stored on the Titan spirits in the archives of the Department of Mysteries, did you get them?"
"The archived information? Ah yes, I have. It's on my desk, gimme a moment to summon it."
At that, he stuck out his wand and cast, "Accio Archive Files."
The files flew in and landed firmly in Fred's hands but at that very moment, the winds began to pick up at an abnormal rate outside. All three of them noticed the speeding winds and instantly were on alert. As far as the eye could see from the window they were peering through, all they could see was a storm forming.
Before memory-Dumbledore could yell the command to put up a shield, the nearby wall blew up and through all the rubble, tendrils of yellow electricity came through and struck Fredrick and Caradoc, killing them instantly. It was even more painful than the cruciatus curse cast by the Dark Lord himself. And the better thing about it? For them, it only lasted for a second as the tendrils of electricity ate away are their bodies and reduced them to dust.
Thankfully, memory-Dumbledore managed to raise a shield strong enough to deflect it while the real Dumbledore flinched a little and Harry was taken by surprise at this sudden strike.
As the dust settled, it was evident that the entire city block had been blown up and standing at the centre of it all, was a gargantuan dragon with golden-brown scales, standing at a massive height of five-hundred and twenty-one feet with three heads akin to that of a hydra. All of them present knew what or rather who it was.
King Ghidorah or also known by his better name, Lord Voldemort.
At first instinct, Dumbledore apparated out of the broken building, re-apparated behind him and sent out his Patronus for backup. Then, he began transforming into his own form while the real Dumbledore and Harry watched from the ruins of the building.
His body grew and his skin began to become metallic as his beard shortened into pincers which were on both sides of his face.
His arms transformed into large metal hooks and he began sprouting spikes on his back and his entire attire slowly began to transform into body armor. The spikes which began sprouting from his back began growing on his stomach as well. They slowly took on the form of a buzzsaw and then wing-like attachments began growing on his back with sharpened ends.
His old kind face morphed into a huge bird-like face with a singular red bar for the eyes and a metallic beak with teeth in them.
At that point, there stood Gigan, in all his glory in the darkness of the night.
Seizing the moment, he brought down his hooks hard on Ghidorah's back which penetrated his thick hide and dug in firmly into his skin, causing im to roar out in pain. Feeling this, Ghidorah turned around and all three heads were aiming for Gigan's neck but fortunately, he stuck out his two hooked hands which struck directly on the two side heads as the hook's sharpened ends firmly embedded themselves within the thick scalp of their heads but unfortunately, the middle head got a grip on Gigan.
Gigan began shaking him off but Ghidorah had stuck on firmly- his teeth sinking in further and further with each attempt Gigan tried to free himself. Whatever he did, it made Ghidorah tighten his grip all the more. Due to his numerous efforts, Ghidorah had Gigan's head in such an odd angle with his teeth so far into his metalic body, that if he were to turn his head, his neck would snap.
Gigan even tried bringing up his hooks but they stayed where the were because he realized if he were to release his grip on the two heads and began focusing on the middle one, the side heads will pummel him into submission and he will ultimately die by Ghidorah's hand.
So, as a last resort, red sparks of lighting began crackling out of the cracks and crevices of Gigan's battle-damaged armor as he began to power up. The sparks of lighting strengthened and turned into bolts of lighting, streaming throughout his body. As his body began to glow, he angled his head just enough to not to break his neck as he knew that any excess movement will break his neck.
After adjusting it, he fired a shot which actually was a collection of energy orbs and it spread when he fired. This was akin to a shotgun, but far deadlier.
It was highly effective.
The shot seared the middle head's skin and scorched all the nearby tissue to such an extent that the middle head had to let go of Gigan. As he was free, Gigan took a step back and fired another shot but this time, it was aimed straight at the left head. The shot seared through the air and as it initiated contact, the head was blown off cleanly.
Enraged now, from a human perspective, it would look like Ghidorah was taking a deep breath but in reality, he was charging up for a shot of its own.
He was charging up for his gravity beam.
Gigan saw this coming and tried to side step but the speed at which the gravity beams came through was just too much. The yellow tendrils of electricity crackled through the air and hit Gigan square in the face and upper torso, electrocuting him.
He was blown backwards and he crashed into a building from which, screams ensued. Harry visibly cringed at that and Dumbledore also had a slight grimace set upon his face. It was clear that the casualties had begun.
" Any moment now…Any moment now…" Dumbledore, or in this case, Gigan, thought as he tried to get up. He tried to support himself to get up with the help of his hooks but he couldn't. He tried again but this time, Ghidorah rushed in and slammed him into the building again, causing Gigan to cry out in pain.
But this time, the cry of pain then became a cry of fury as his left hand morphed into a giant sword and then he stabbed Ghidorah right in the stomach and then he used his other hand to get up and slash Ghidorah in the face. Ghidorah retaliated with his own wing-slams but this time, one wing slam left Gigan reeling from pain as it knocked him over and he landed on a crowd of people trying to escape, blood, bones and guts flew everywhere as his side was coated in blood.
As he tried to recover from the wing slam, out of the corner of his field of view, he noticed a total barbaric and horrifying sight. A sight which slowly made him devoid of all hope.
The head that he blasted off earlier, was regenerating and growing back.
And at that sight, Harry couldn't help but curse.
" Holy shit.."
At first, the left most neck was no more than a mere stump. Then, the markings of Ghidorah's face appeared on that head but it still was that same stump. Then as it began to grow, a white film began forming over it as a protective substance.
The middle head saw it and ripped it off once the head grew back.
As it regrew, the next thing Ghidorah did was that he fired his gravity beams straight at Gigan. Bright golden bolts of electricity warping through the air and going for Gigan's head. With what energy he had, Gigan brought up his claws as a defense mechanism but the force exerted from the beams was too much and he was beginning to be pushed back as the gravity beams began to eat away at his hooks.
To avoid further damage, he stepped to the side to avoid the beams. They crashed into nearby buildings and from the screams and dulling of the beam crashes, he could very easily assume that the innocents were being killed in this carnage. With a roar of fury, he got up and began showing his melee prowess on Ghidorah who couldn't get a moment to strike back.
His right hook slashed across all three necks, drawing blood which splashed against his body. His hook parried, blocked his attacks while his left sword continuously fought back against the might of Ghidorah. As they kept on fighting, the neighboring buildings all began to be destroyed one after the oother
Some were destroyed due to titans falling over, some were destroyed due to gravity beams and flare shots while some were destroyed due to Ghidorah flattening the surface to get fighting ground.
Gigan and Ghidorah fought hard and long. At one moment, Gigan couldn't stop Ghidorah from charging towards himself and knocking him over. As he tried to get up, Ghidorah used his two tails to hoist up him and fly him up above the clouds.
Due to having spent nearly all of his energy and being brutally hit at times, Gigan couldn't put up much if a defense nor he could free himself.
As they reached the Stratosphere, he, Gigan, took notice of the beauty of the dark thunder clouds which were being summoned due to Ghidorah's presence. They had a beautiful essence to them which personified and portrayed the might, and the darkness which was present within Ghidorah yet the beauty of life which was everywhere.
But however, before he could see much, Ghidorah dropped him. And he was falling.
Fast.
33,000 feet.
28,000 feet.
23,000 feet.
18,000 feet.
Gigan was falling and he showed no signs of stopping. Whatsoever Before he could apparate out of the way, he crashed into the set of buildings beneath him, killing whosoever was present and at the very same time, ending the memory.
Dumbledore and Harry were immediately taken out the memory and both of them were back where they previously were- Dumbledore near the desk and Harry being seated.
Harry's eyes had to re-adjust to the sudden darkness as the only source of light in the office was the fire place and the wispy rays of moonlight which were streaming through the window.
As his eyes readjusted to the darkness, his first words he could say were, "Damn, that was one heck of a ride."
Dumbledore briefly chuckled at that. Then, after clearing his throat, he asked a question.
"So, what did you exactly learn from this?"
Harry was confused at first. His mind was blanking as he couldn't think how he should answer it. But then realizing how obvious it was, he said, "Um... Voldemort's fighting style as Ghidorah...?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?"
Realizing where he went wrong, he said, "Telling you, Professor."
Dumbledore appreciatively nodded. He then cast a swift Tempus and saw it was two in the morning turning back towards Harry, he said, "Harry, you must go now as it is two in the morning. I need you to comeback here tomorrow, at the same time you did tonight. Got that? Also, you need to get your sleep for tomorrow as the classes are starting-" as he saw Harry get up, he continued, "-Before you leave, do you have any questions you want to ask?"
Harry thought about the memory, but nothing he could find was something worth asking questions for. At least for now as it was two in the morning and all he wanted to do now was sleep.
"No, Professor. None as of now."
Dumbledore then briefly smiled, got up, and ushered him to go back to his common room.
"Off you go now, pip pip."
As Harry turned around and as his retreating figure left the office, in the darkness of the night, Dumbledore felt the essence of dark magic which lingered in the air, magnify. As a response, he could only fall back into his chair and let out a shaky, frail breath as he felt every bit of his age then and there. Fawkes trilled as to light some hope within Dumbledore.
"I know, Fawkes, I know. But I am afraid that I might not be able to assist him for long. My days are numbered, by dear friend-," at that, he looked straight into Fawkes's amber-colored eyes which if they belonged to a human, he was sure that they would've been swelling up in tears. Seeing this, Dumbledore's own eyes began to water and he said, "I will miss you, old friend. This has been a good life," and then he looked away to clear his eyes and he began to write a letter to the German Ministry of Magic.
Had he not done that and listened a bit closely, he would've heard Fawkes speak for the first time and probably, the only time.
" The best."
As Harry was walking down the dark hallways of Hogwarts at two in the morning, his footsteps echoed loudly with each step he took but since he was far away from any dormitory, it wasn't any issue. As he walked under the starry cover of the night sky, thoughts of the Bristol Titan brawl kept circulating in his mind. For the most part, they were thoughts of self-doubt. Seeing how Voldemort, or in his Titan form, Ghidorah going relentless against Gigan, made him doubt his power capacity to take him down. He didn't have prowess in flight, nor was he much experienced in combat with his Titan form, nor was he much experienced in combat in general. But there was one thing - that one little thing he was sure he was experienced in – that one thing that he perhaps was truly a master in.
And that was being the survivor.
No matter how much the odds were against him, no matter how hard the circumstances were, he always managed to come out on top. No matter what happened, he always survived.
And this time, he isn't only going to make sure that he survives, he is going to make sure that he wins.
He isn't going to let Voldemort win, never.
But what if he loses?
What if he lets everyone down?
What if he dies?
No, he won't loose. He just won't. And even if he dies, he is going to make sure that he is going to take Tom with him.
And let's face it, there were many worse things than death. At times, it was merely the most merciful option there is. He is going to go out of his way, to make sure, that he bloody wins.
Because he will be damned if he doesn't.
As he turns around the corner and reaches the portrait of the Fat Lady, he murmurs out the password, "Song of the little ones" and enters the common room.
The common room was dimly lit with the fireplace's fire slowly dying out, he came closer and took notice of a familiar head of bushy-brown hair. With a soft smile, he conjured a blanket, and softly draped it over her so that she doesn't catch a cold. He then softly kissed her forehead and went to his dormitory to retreat in for the night.
While climbing up the stairs, his soft smile turned into a full-blown smirk as he heard the entire boy's dormitory sleeping but one specific snore was the loudest of them all.
And that being of one Ronald Weasley.
As he opened the door to his dorm, as expected, he saw Ron sprawled over his bed, snoring.
He then got ready for the night and he took one last look at Ron before sleeping, there was only one thought in his mind.
And that's how some things never change.