CHAPTER 17: GATEWAY TO THE UNKNOWN
"Why am I out here?" Harry questioned, glancing around the mysterious surroundings of the forbidden forest.
"Because I want you to meet a truly enchanting Runespore I recently encountered!" Coilis hissed with excitement, guiding Harry deeper into the dense woods. Harry sighed, wrapping his cloak tightly around himself, and for his own amusement, he manipulated the shadows, causing them to dance and swirl in his hand.
"A Runespore? Tell me more," Harry inquired.
"Yes… Her name is Ritara. She possesses these captivating, large gold eyes... anyone would shed a skin or two for her," Coilis responded, his slithery voice expressing a hint of admiration.
Harry, not fluent in Snake language but catching the essence, understood Coilis was implying that Ritara was 'attractive.'
"Oh? And Nagini isn't?" Harry teased, a playful grin on his face.
"What? Psh, I—I mean, Nagini is... But—We—At times, I strongly dislike you, master," Coilis stammered, attempting to defend himself.
"Love you too, Coilis," Harry chuckled, enjoying the banter.
Harry carefully stepped over a gnarled tree root, ensuring he kept Coilis's sleek black tail in his line of sight.
In the end, logic prevailed. Coilis had encountered Ritara in his impressive Diamondcross form. Moreover, if anyone from the castle happened upon them, most were unaware that Shadow had a Diamondcross form, though quite a few were acquainted with the majestic Gaboon Viper.
"Ritara?" Coilis called, slithering effortlessly around a towering tree. Harry followed suit, coming to a sudden halt as he laid eyes on the unexpected scene before them.
When Coilis mentioned finding a Runespore, Harry had envisioned a young creature, not an imposing female well into her prime. Ritara was a massive specimen, easily measuring twelve feet, a significant departure from the typical 5 to 8 feet range. She appeared to be a solitary creature, her glossy bright orange skin adorned with sleek black stripes, and her right head boasted gleaming golden eyes resembling precious gemstones.
What sent a shiver down Harry's spine was the gruesome sight of an adult unicorn being torn into swallowing pieces by Ritara's left head, while the middle head greedily devoured the remains. The right head, however, acknowledged Coilis with a seemingly casual greeting.
"Greetings, Coilis. Is this the formidable Dark Shadow I've heard whispers about? The rumors of the other viper's exploits travel far in our world," Ritara hissed, her sinuous body twisting so that her tail brushed against Coilis's leg.
The eerie tableau was enough to give anyone pause, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what had led Coilis to befriend such a formidable and evidently carnivorous Runespore.
"You must be the illustrious Ritara. Allow me to say, your eyes gleam as bright as gems, and your scales are as sleek as a calm pool," Harry complimented, his words smooth and practiced. Ritara, in response, exhibited the equivalent of a blush—a frantic twitch of her tail. The other two heads, preoccupied with their macabre feast, momentarily ceased their grisly activity. The left head swiftly licked off silver-blue blood, while the middle head turned to regard Harry, the main head.
"Ah, I thank you, smooth tongue. You are indeed the Dark Shadow, for none is such a 'snake charmer' in the wizarding world," Ritara acknowledged, her serpentine form undulating with what could only be described as delight.
"I aim to please, fire scales," Harry replied, reveling in the snake's satisfaction.
The serpent continued her conversation with Coilis, but Harry's keen observation caught something amiss—the kill wasn't as swift as he initially thought. The venom pulsed through Ritara's fangs, taking its time to travel. With every passing second, the faster the unicorn had moved, leaving a distinct trail through the brush. It became apparent to Harry that it wasn't just one unicorn that had met its demise.
"Ritara, I smell wizards!" Coilis warned, his senses unaltered by the silver taste of unicorn blood. Ritara's reaction was immediate and frantic; a Runespore was a rare and highly sought-after creature on the black market. The potential presence of wizards threatened their secretive sanctuary, and the air became charged with tension.
"Leave us, Ritara, for we shall keep them off your tail. Go, and live well," Coilis urged, a sense of protectiveness in his hiss.
"I see I must move once more. I wish to stay longer with you, Coilis, and Dark Shadow," Ritara expressed with a hint of reluctance.
"Perhaps you can. I know that serpents inhabit the den of my father and me. Many live there in peace. Perhaps we shall see you there," Coilis suggested.
"Perhaps. Goodbye, Coilis of the night, and Shadow of the silent," Ritara bid farewell before vanishing with impressive speed. Left behind were only Harry and Coilis, who approached the source of loud talking and a barking dog.
Harry swiftly drew up his hood, shrouding himself in darkness. Even his face remained concealed. Coilis coiled around Harry's arm, ready for whatever lay ahead.
The barking dog charged, its loud barks filling the air. Coilis responded with a hiss so menacing that the dog whimpered, retreating in fear. Just as the duo prepared to confront the intruders, Hagrid and four first years emerged into view. Draco looked on with surprise, followed by a touch of fear. Hermione trembled, while Ron and Daemon were left momentarily speechless.
"Ge' out of 'ere!" Hagrid bellowed, brandishing a flaming torch. Harry took a step back, and Coilis hissed once more, causing Hermione to whimper and cling to Hagrid. The unexpected encounter left the onlookers in a state of shock and uncertainty.
"Master, hiss in the noble tongue, for they will not know who you are still."
"Except Draco."
"Correct, Master."
As Coilis advised, Harry hissed in the noble tongue, a language unknown to the uninitiated. Draco, however, remained privy to the conversation. The four first years took a step back, uncertainty etched across their faces. Hagrid growled, waving the torch wildly in a misguided attempt to ward off the mysterious presence.
Unbeknownst to Harry, his cloak had absorbed the silver essence of unicorn blood, as had his hands. A loud thumping noise echoed through the forest, and Harry swiftly ducked behind the large body of a centaur.
"Centaur! The creatures of prophecy, haters of darkness!" Hagrid exclaimed.
"Of my shadows, Coilis?" Harry questioned.
"Of you yourself, Master!" Coilis clarified.
Aware that the situation was escalating, Harry began to back away. Sensing the impending conflict, he made a decisive move. With a sudden lunge, he allowed the shadows to envelop him completely, disappearing from view. The forest, once again, was shrouded in an eerie silence.
"This isn't good; they are growing suspicious. The properties of unicorn blood are too closely aligned with the Philosopher's Stone. We have to strike soon."
"We better, because the last days of this year are upon us."
For Coilis, the final days of the term were imminent, merely a week away. The current day was bright and sunny, with students enjoying the outdoors—laughing in the sun, playing by the lake. Draco recounted his experiences in the woods to an enthralled audience. Pansy hung on every word, Daphne wore a frown, Theo was disinterested, and Crabbe and Goyle nodded mechanically at the necessary intervals. Coilis, in his snake form, was coiled on a rock, basking in the warm sunlight just outside Hagrid's cabin on the hill. Harry, leaning against the same rock, seemed lost in thought.
"Oh? What's this? Harry Obsidian not paying attention to his friends? Better be careful, Obsidian, or you won't have any soon," Blaise remarked, with Millicent nodding in agreement behind him. Harry's eyes flashed open, not focusing on them specifically, but rather scanning the six individuals who simultaneously feared and respected him. The tension in the air hinted at the approaching climax of their plans.
"Ah, but why surround yourself with comrades when you can command a legion?" Harry retorted calmly, eliciting a surprised reaction from Blaise. "Oh? And who's to affirm you've amassed a legion? What's the allure for them?" Blaise shot back, with Millicent nodding in agreement. Harry suppressed a smirk, reveling in the amusement this exchange provided him.
"Why do they rally behind me? Because they'd rather not find themselves in your predicament, Blaise, Millicent. Take a good look around. What do you observe?"
The two turned their gaze, only to come to a sudden halt. This was the Slytherin domain, an outdoor expanse. The seventh years occupied the summit, intimidating students from other houses and, since it was Slytherin territory, skirmishes were permitted. Every lower-year student stared with widened eyes, captivated by the unfolding spectacle. Harry's reputation as someone to be feared had its roots in mysterious origins. The older students, familiar with the trio, eagerly anticipated a confrontation, but Blaise couldn't ignore the truth. The majority aligned themselves with Harry, leaving Millicent standing alone.
In the midst of the tense atmosphere, a hushed dialogue ensued. Blaise weighed the odds, realizing the silent support Harry had garnered from their peers. His instincts nudged him toward collaboration, yet Millicent stood firm, a lone sentinel in Harry's camp.
"Notice, Blaise? They all gravitate toward my lead, and if you seek my respect, you must earn it. Blaise Zabini, I extend a challenge to you for a wizarding duel. Right here, right now. Millicent shall stand as your second, and Theodore Nott will assume the same role for me. Draw your wands," Harry declared, rising to his feet.
Theo leaped up, and a flurry of students hurried over, forming a sizable ring. The seventh years, initially irritated, shifted to excitement as they recognized the impending spectacle.
"Very well, since a duel is the order of the day, I, Vaisey, shall preside as judge. The rules are straightforward: incapacitation marks the end, no lasting damage, and certainly, no dark curses," Vaisey cautioned. Theo surveyed the gathering crowd, startled by the unexpected audience. Harry, however, remained composed, accustomed to such displays from his time with the Death Eaters.
"Ready?" Vaisey intoned.
"Begin!"
In a split second, Harry discerned Blaise's vulnerability. The Slytherin was impulsive, charging headlong into battle without surveying the surroundings or his opponent's positioning—a recklessness that Harry immediately seized upon.
Moreover, Harry's proficiency surpassed NEWT levels in light magic and exceeded that of most Death Eaters in the dark arts, placing Blaise at a distinct disadvantage. The crowd buzzed with anticipation as the duel unfolded, each move a strategic dance between two formidable opponents.
"Stupefy!" Blaise shouted, his aim wildly off course. A sixth-year swiftly intercepted the spell with a small shield charm, preventing it from reaching the onlookers.
"Fight back, you coward!" Blaise yelled, unleashing two more stunners. Harry sidestepped gracefully and raised his wand, locking eyes with Blaise. "As you wish, Zabini."
"Stupefy!"
"Finate Incantatum." The stunning spell dissipated into nothingness, leaving Blaise with a reddening face. Then, a subtle smile tugged at Harry's lips.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Ferula," Harry muttered, slashing his wand in a precise arc over Blaise's chest. A thick white bandage materialized, wrapping around Blaise's torso. Confusion rippled through the crowd at the unexpected turn of events.
"What are you playing at, Sh—"
"Incendio."
A burst of flames erupted from Harry's wand, directed at a strategic point near Blaise. The sudden inferno startled the onlookers, and even Blaise himself was caught off guard. The flames danced, forming a temporary barrier that kept Blaise at bay, giving Harry a momentary advantage. The crowd's murmurings intensified as they witnessed the unorthodox tactics in this duel, and the atmosphere crackled with anticipation for the next move.
The spell Incendio was deliberately designed to be non-applicable on living beings. Harry, however, had devised a workaround, tapping into the darker side of magic. The bandage that encircled Blaise's chest wasn't just a protective wrap—it concealed a malevolent enchantment. As the flames engulfed Blaise, the bandage burnt through his clothes, searing his chest with an intensity that was effective yet not overly advanced.
Blaise's anguished scream pierced the air as the bright orange flames danced on his skin. Collapsing to the ground, he writhed in pain until the seventh-year healer rushed forward, swiftly pulling his limp body aside and initiating the recovery process.
Turning his attention to the trembling Millicent, Harry met her gaze as she raised her wand.
"Expelliarmus!" she shouted, but Harry effortlessly sidestepped the spell.
"Stupefy, Incendio, stupefy."
It was a tactical sequence he had mastered. The first spell baited opponents into believing they could withstand the harmless Incendio, only to be caught off guard by the following stunning spell. It never failed to catch the unsuspecting.
"Harry Obsidian and Theodore Nott are declared the winners!" Vaisey announced, eliciting cheers from the onlookers. Blaise, now conscious, watched Harry as he approached. Slowly, Blaise lowered his head in acknowledgment of his defeat. The duel had not only showcased Harry's prowess but also left an indelible mark on the Slytherin hierarchy.
"You emerge as the undeniable victor; I concede and offer my respect," he muttered. Millicent acknowledged with a nod as vitality surged through her. Harry proceeded to stroll away, his gaze fixed ahead, never once looking back.
As the academic year neared its conclusion, a subtle contentment enveloped Harry, radiating with a self-satisfied glow. Inside the Slytherin dungeons, adjacent to the entrance wall, a prominently displayed board showcased the students excelling in various subjects. Harry took pleasure in witnessing the typically assertive Sally Noriess dissolve into a puddle of tears, her unruly caramel hair bouncing in a rather peculiar manner as she hastily departed.
With a sense of accomplishment, Harry ambled over to inspect the standings, discovering that he held the premier position in every class. The revelation managed to astonish even some of the most accomplished fifth-year students in their cohort. Yet, the entire hierarchy was more than a mere matter of respect; it had become an unwritten policy within the dormitories.
The convoluted structure dictated that first years, vulnerable and in need of self-protection, held a pivotal role in safeguarding their secrets while constantly vigilant. The subsequent years unfolded as a reflection of their established rank, solidifying their positions within the intricate social fabric of Slytherin House.
The brightest minds secured an instantaneous passage to the summit, while those basking in popularity also claimed their coveted positions at the pinnacle. Meanwhile, the remainder found themselves relegated to the lower echelons, a status they clung to until they managed a noteworthy feat or engaged in a remarkable deviation from their typical behavior.
Fortuitously, Harry had swiftly ascended to the apex of the first-year hierarchy, having already earned the admiration and respect of his peers. However, despite his intellectual prowess, the older students stubbornly refused to acknowledge the depth of their own intelligence. This discrepancy proved mildly exasperating for many of the younger students, but Harry paid it no mind. His focus was resolutely on the first-year cohort, with a deliberate plan to gradually ascend to the zenith of the entire student body.
Yet, there was a clandestine motive interwoven into Harry's pursuits. While ostensibly working under the auspices of his father, he was, in reality, orchestrating the capture of an artifact that promised untold delight. In the present moment, Harry found himself stealthily advancing toward the forbidden corridor, a clandestine mission unfolding under the shroud of secrecy.
As Harry ventured further into the forbidden corridor, he couldn't help but overhear the animated conversation of what was ostensibly known as the 'golden trio.' However, to him, it seemed more like the 'arrogant double and the scapegoat' as they fervently discussed the elusive stone. They were resolute about obtaining it that very night, convinced that some ominous force was in pursuit, especially with Dumbledore conveniently absent. It appeared luck was not on Harry's side.
Deciding to act swiftly, Harry muttered, "Alohamora," coaxing the door open with a creak. An unsettling odor assaulted his senses, an unpleasant amalgamation of rancid meat and dog breath permeating the air. His eyes fell upon the Cerberus, which, in mere seconds, locked onto him and charged with ferocity.
Thinking on his feet, Harry transfigured a shard of broken wood, initially part of a large wooden chew toy, into a harp. He bewitched the instrument to play a soothing melody. The effect was immediate – the Cerberus stiffened, its three pairs of eyes drooping until it collapsed into a deep, snoring slumber. Harry hoped for a stroke of luck; the spell should wear off within minutes, provided the trio didn't arrive sooner than anticipated. The suspense hung in the air as Harry prepared for the next phase of his covert mission.
With the door swung open, Harry bravely illuminated his wand with the incantation "Lumos," casting a warm glow in the pitch-black chamber. Without hesitation, he leaped down, only to be ensnared by a voracious plant that lurked below. The trap door snapped shut, leaving Harry trapped in its clutches. His wand's light flickered across the menacing foliage, but to his surprise, Coilis effortlessly slipped through, its sleek form resembling a Diamondcross once again.
"Incendio Pariotis!" Harry snarled, unleashing a fierce burst of flames that erected a protective wall. Sliding down, he observed the plant attempting to regroup, tangling itself into a resilient web.
"Two down, a bunch more to go," Harry muttered, allowing Coilis to lead the way through the perilous path ahead.
In the next chamber, Harry stood transfixed as a multitude of keys fluttered around in a frenzied whirl. A singular word escaped his lips at that moment: "Dang it." The daunting prospect of navigating through this chaotic sea of keys loomed before him, yet Harry steeled himself for the challenges that lay ahead.
Coilis couldn't help but chuckle at his master's futile attempts with countless summoning charms, each one proving ineffective.
"Master, the summoning charms won't work. Why not go to the key instead of trying to bring the key to you?" suggested Coilis, his long, thin form resembling a Diamondcross as he offered a piece of advice.
Harry playfully stuck out his tongue and pondered the situation. He considered the freezing charms and, with a focused mind, honed in on the specific key he needed—a large, old-fashioned one. Channeling his magical prowess, he cast the appropriate spell.
"Immobulus." The enchantment took effect, rendering the key motionless. Seizing the opportunity, Harry effortlessly snatched it from its frozen state, quickly unlocking the door. The key, freed from its spellbound hold, darted away, allowing Harry to proceed unhindered.
Beyond the door awaited a chessboard, and Harry instantly recognized it as Professor McGonagall's test. A colossal, self-playing chessboard posed a unique challenge. There was nothing inherently wrong with it, except for one significant detail— the chess pieces didn't understand Parseltongue, a language Coilis excelled in. The unfolding chess match presented a formidable hurdle for Harry to overcome, and he steeled himself for the strategic battle that lay ahead.
"Oh, forget it, you overgrown pebble! Master, let me teach these rocks a lesson!" Coilis exclaimed, exuding confidence.
Harry smirked in agreement and granted Coilis permission. With a flick of his wand, he effortlessly enlarged Coilis to ten times his size, transforming him into a colossal serpent, seventy feet long and towering over the chessboard.
The white king and queen, displaying a semblance of wisdom, hastily moved out of harm's way. At the door, Coilis reverted to his original size, an air of smug satisfaction surrounding him. Harry raised an intrigued eyebrow as the door revealed itself. The unfolding challenges within the forbidden corridor continued to keep him on his toes, and Harry braced himself for whatever lay beyond.
Professor Potter's test manifested in three formidable animals: a wolf, a massive black dog, and a stag. These creatures formed an unusual barrier, one that Harry now faced in the forbidden corridor.
"I see why his spawn was a corn snake," Coilis dryly commented, noting the seemingly diminished intelligence of the snakes.
Approximately twelve seconds later, Coilis tasted the tang of deer blood, the two canines whining in discomfort as their hearts struggled to pump dry air, the expulsion of blood a painful process.
"Let us continue, Master," Coilis urged.
"Indeed, but we have already bypassed many challenges. Now we need Dumbledore's and—" Harry began.
"I smell potions, Master," Coilis interjected.
Harry sighed and opened the door. True to Coilis's olfactory prowess, a table was arranged with an array of differently colored liquids, each contained in bottles of varying sizes.
"Master, these two are poison, that one is the burning-smelling liquid from the alley—"
"Alcohol?" Harry interjected, anticipating Coilis's observation. The duo stood before the table, their journey through the forbidden corridor taking an intriguing turn with the introduction of a potentially hazardous concoction.
"- and this one... it smells of ice..." Coilis observed, drawing attention to a particular bottle on the table.
Harry nodded his appreciation and lifted the bottle, giving the lid a thoughtful sniff. Confirming its nature, he took a decisive swig, feeling the chilling effects coursing through his body.
"Coilis, I want you to go back," Harry declared.
"What? Master, no!"
"I mean it! Go back and wait for me. I shall return, and you know that."
"…Save the scales on your back, Master," Coilis reluctantly conceded.
Harry smiled, chuckling lightly, and raised his hand, summoning the shadows to envelop Coilis and transport him back into his room. The shadows retracted, leaving Harry to walk through the fire, arriving in a room adorned with a large mirror framed in gold.
"What?" Harry whispered, pulling up his hood to complete his outfit.
To his bewilderment, his reflection did not mimic the action. Instead, the torches in the background blurred, transforming into a sequence of images. The unexpected twist in the mirrored room left Harry pondering the enigma that lay ahead, his anticipation mounting with each passing moment.
Behind him, Harry's father, Lord Voldemort, manifested in the mirror. However, he appeared different from the usual ominous presence — his dark black hair almost tilted toward blue, resembling Harry's own current hue. A thin nose and a tall, imposing figure replaced the typical visage of Lord Voldemort. Remarkably, he sported a genuine smile, a departure from the usual smirks that defined him.
Strangely, positioned to the side and slightly behind the two figures, Lily and James Potter materialized, offering nods and gentle smiles. Clad in entirely black robes adorned with a silver snake on the shoulder, they stood as a united presence.
Coilis, ever the loyal companion, peeked his head out from beneath the cloak of the Harry in the mirrored image, flicking his tongue in a gesture of greeting.
Harry tore his eyes away from the captivating scene within the mirror, focusing on the engraved words at the top. Though the familiarity tugged at the recesses of his memory, the recognition remained just out of reach, leaving Harry to contemplate the mysterious revelation laid before him.
"Mirror of the Erised… Mirror of Desire," Harry whispered to himself, acknowledging the enchantment that revealed his deepest longings. The reflection depicted a family that embraced him for who he truly was—the Dark Shadow, Heir to Lord Voldemort.
Suddenly, a voice shattered the reverie. "You!" it exclaimed, prompting the idyllic scene to dissolve, leaving the real reflection of Daemon Potter standing on the steps, his accusatory finger pointed dramatically. Covered in soot and dirt, Daemon's hands seemed oddly wet, though there was no water in sight.
"Daemon Potter," Harry noted, turning to face the boy who displayed no fear.
"Yeah, and I'm going to beat you, Nightlight!" Daemon declared with overconfidence, a trait that might prove to be his downfall.
Drawing his wand from his pocket, Daemon clumsily attempted a spell while Harry did so with much more finesse.
"Stupefy!" Daemon shouted, launching the spell in Harry's direction.
"Protego," Harry lazily intoned, effortlessly deflecting Daemon's curses. The initial surprise in Daemon's eyes quickly dissipated.
"Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!" Daemon continued to shout, each curse missing its mark. Harry, with a hint of exasperation, braced for a more formidable challenge.
"Exerto!" The first curse Harry had to sidestep, and Daemon grinned as if achieving a great feat in his eyes.
"I've been training since I was nine by the Professors of Hogwarts! You can't win!" Daemon declared, deftly evading a yellow curse. Harry stiffened for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"You ignorant fool! I have trained in the darkest of magic since I was six; this is mere child's play!" Harry retorted, amusement evident in his voice. Unfazed, Daemon bit his lip and intensified his efforts.
"Stupefy!"
"Orjalta!" Harry countered, casting a spell that transformed the ground into slippery mud. Daemon slipped forward, losing his grip on his wand. Harry swiftly caught Daemon's skull, preventing him from falling, and forced him to gaze into the mirror.
"Where is the stone?" Harry hissed, his impatience turning into a growl as Daemon remained silent for a few moments. Then, the boy began to whimper, further fueling Harry's anger at the lack of response.
"What do you see?" Harry demanded, tightening his grip on Daemon's head with increasing force, causing the boy pain.
"I-I-I'm-m on p-p-p-il-les of-f G-G-Galleons," Daemon stuttered. In a surge of fury, Harry smashed Daemon's face into the mirror, relishing the satisfying sound of it shattering into hundreds of fragments.
"You fool! Dare lie to me? You are weak, a mere tool of Dumbledore's needs," Harry hissed, disdain dripping from his words as he glared down at the crawling Daemon, who struggled to rise.
"I-I—"
"Don't speak, for this chamber shall be your tomb," Harry growled, lunging forward with menacing intent. In a desperate reflex, Daemon's hand shot out, the glistening 'water' still there, burning on contact. Daemon's hand pushed on Harry's wrist, and the flesh went up in acidic grey smoke, emitting a putrid odor of decay. A piercing scream escaped Harry as he jumped away, clutching his wounded wrist in agony.
"What? What magic is this?" Harry shrieked, bewildered and in pain, just as Daemon lunged. His left hand closed on Harry's shoulder, while the opposite hand landed squarely on the left side of his face.
Albus Dumbledore, usually a very calm man, had taken off after young Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Granger. Lily and James Potter followed closely behind. After traversing the Chess room, Dumbledore deduced the involvement of Ron Weasley, but upon encountering the three creatures James had summoned (resembling his friends' Animagi forms), he feared a darker force was at play.
"Hurry, Albus," Lily whispered anxiously as they approached. Dumbledore dispelled the fire spell with urgency. A blood-curdling scream echoed from the next room, prompting James to rush over and throw the door open.
Daemon Potter lay on his back, panting and looking up at Shadow with wide eyes. He was positioned near the door, his parents' feet in close proximity. However, the three adults focused mostly on Shadow, the enigmatic figure that had emerged from the confrontation.
The tension in the room was palpable, and as the events unfolded, the air seemed thick with the weight of the unknown.
Shadow, his cloak torn and burned in two areas, revealed glimpses of melted flesh and bloody muscles beneath as he tensed his arm. His hood remained up, obscuring his face, which was angled towards the floor. Blood continuously dripped from an unknown source, creating a macabre rhythm.
"Daemon!" Lily sobbed, rushing forward to grab her son and pull him back to safety. Two wands were now pointed at Shadow, who still clutched his own. As Daemon Potter was pulled away, a large ruby red stone tumbled from his pocket, bouncing twice before coming to a standstill.
"James and Lily Potter," Harry growled, his voice deep and raspy from the pain. He was Shadow, the Dark Shadow.
"Shadow," Dumbledore acknowledged, a low growl being the response for a few tense seconds.
"Dumbledore, you are smart to cover the boy in poison," Shadow spat, clearing his mouth of some blood.
"How could you! He's just a kid!" James shouted, stepping forward in front of his wife and child, raising his wand in a defensive stance.
"Well, so am I!" Shadow hissed back, pushing his bloodied hood back to his neck, revealing the determination in his gaze. The room crackled with tension as the confrontation unfolded, the air thick with the weight of choices made and consequences faced.
Daemon had been fortunate with his last strike, the poison had stripped half of Shadow's face of skin and flesh, thick blood struggling to clot in the gruesome wound. The sight was so horrific that even a few seconds were enough to reduce Lily's voice to a cracked sob.
"Tell me this, Daemon Potter, what does this make you?" Shadow hissed, taking a shaky step forward toward Daemon and the stone, the wands still raised. Daemon's face paled as he realized the severity of the injury he had inflicted on Shadow.
"Oh, Merlin," Daemon whispered, trembling, his eyes locked with the intense green gaze that refused to look away.
"A killer, or soon to be. Do you know that, little Potter? How does it feel to have blood stain your hands?" Shadow growled, blinking to clear some blood from his eye and stop it from turning crimson. Dumbledore struggled to find a way to intervene, realizing the challenge was more mental than anything, and few spells could address the turmoil.
"The light will win," Daemon defended, attempting to hold a glare, though it proved futile.
"But as long as there is light, there will always be a shadow," Shadow whispered, backing away as the blood loss affected his vision.
"Avascanear!" Dumbledore shouted, but it was a second too late. The bright light filled the chamber, eradicating shadows just as one swallowed up Shadow. The tense confrontation reached its climax, leaving an aftermath of uncertainty and the lingering echoes of choices made in the heart of darkness.
Harry gulped air, his strength waning, collapsing to the ground in twitching pain.
"Shadow!"
"Father," Harry choked out, his eyes already closing.
"Please..." The plea hung in the air, a desperate echo in the aftermath of the fierce confrontation. The room, once charged with tension, now bore witness to the aftermath of choices made, and the path taken through the shadows seemed to close in on Harry as he succumbed to the darkness.
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