CHAPTER 39: THE DARK ARTS UNLEASHED
Defense Against the Dark Arts quickly ascended to the coveted position of the most anticipated class of the year. Students eagerly awaited Professor Lupin's lessons, their curiosity piqued by his engaging teaching style and the practical knowledge he imparted. Even Draco Malfoy had toned down his insults since Harry Potter had inadvertently discovered something rather amusing about him.
Lupin commanded respect in his classroom. Unlike other teachers, he didn't tolerate tardiness from anyone, even Daemon Potter. Points were deducted swiftly if rules were flouted, and Lupin made it clear he wouldn't tolerate disrespect. Despite his firm hand, he was regarded as one of the more approachable teachers at Hogwarts.
Within the walls of Slytherin's common room, rumors swirled but rarely ventured beyond its confines—a point of pride among its inhabitants. Darker rumors were swiftly quashed, for fear of repercussions from those they concerned. Whispered conversations hinted at consequences for those who dared spread falsehoods or betray secrets.
Daphne Greengrass knew better than to breathe a word about Harry Potter's peculiar encounter with a snake. The implications were dire; secrecy was paramount. If even a whisper escaped, she risked more than mere retribution—it could mean her life.
Yet, despite their best efforts, certain stories had a way of spreading like wildfire. The tale of the Boggart incident was one such example. No one could pinpoint its origin; it simply took on a life of its own, spreading through the castle corridors and beyond.
Harry seethed with anger, his emotions spiraling out of control. Increasingly, students found themselves nursing broken bones courtesy of Shadow, an extension of his volatile state.
The rumors swirling around Hogwarts only added to his frustration. They were simplistic and wildly inaccurate, painting a picture of a troubled childhood or a mythical twin brother Harry had supposedly killed. It was both amusing and infuriating how close yet distant they were from the truth.
Some whispered that Harry had been abandoned as a child, left to fend for himself for a week, which supposedly shaped his Slytherin tendencies. The absurdity of it all was not lost on him, but it did little to ease his growing ire.
Amidst the whispers, Daphne Greengrass stood out. She seemed to observe Harry and Coilis with heightened vigilance, as if anticipating imminent danger. Her cautious demeanor didn't register with Harry, consumed as he was by his mounting rage.
His anger drove him to his current endeavor, streaking through the corridors like a shadowy comet, leaving a faint trail of smoke in his wake. He moved effortlessly in his shadow form, perceiving the world in stark black and white—shadows rendered as white and light as black.
Hovering on the edge of violence, Harry spotted a pair of Gryffindor boys ahead. He crouched low, barely aware of his surroundings in his shadowy state, ready to strike. But just as he prepared to pounce, the boys darted through a portrait that swung shut behind them, sealing off any pursuit.
Harry's frustration boiled over. He clenched his fists, the desire for release gnawing at him. Yet, trapped in the shadows, he could only watch as his targets slipped away. The taste of vengeance lingered in his mind, a bitter reminder of his current limitations.
As he stood there, simmering with suppressed fury, the distant echo of footsteps approached. Harry melted into the darkness, blending seamlessly with the shadows of the corridor. His anger burned bright, a volatile force waiting for an outlet, as he plotted his next move in the tumultuous dance of Hogwarts' secrets and whispers.
Harry recoiled sharply, causing the woman depicted in the portrait to let out a shrill shriek. She hastily raised an umbrella, a futile gesture against the looming threat that Harry presented. Panic spread swiftly across the other nearby paintings, their eyes wide with fear and confusion.
"Let me in!" Harry's voice carried a menacing edge, dark and brimming with anger. The woman in the portrait flinched, her back pressing against the far wall as she struggled to catch her breath.
"Password?" Her voice trembled, stuttering in fear. Harry's response was a menacing hiss, his jade eyes burning fiercely within the swirling darkness of his shadowy form. He reared back, his anger manifesting in sharp, angry curses uttered in Parseltongue.
"Let me in," Harry spat again, his words laced with a chilling intensity that sent shivers down the woman's spine.
"I'm... I'm s-s," she stammered, her fear palpable. But before she could finish, Harry's rage erupted. It was a fury that had simmered since the day Selena, his dear friend, drew her last breath—a day that marked the beginning of his life unraveling.
With a primal scream of frustration, Harry slashed at the portrait. The woman's horrified shriek filled the air as his shadowy claws tore through the paper, ripping it right down the center. He relished the way her panicked movements failed to evade his onslaught, the tearing line slicing right over where her heart would be depicted.
The destruction brought a brief surge of satisfaction to Harry, but it was fleeting. His anger still churned within him, a relentless force seeking an outlet. The portrait now hung in tatters, a testament to his unchecked fury and the turbulent emotions that threatened to consume him whole.
As the echoes of chaos subsided, Harry stood amidst the aftermath, shadows swirling around him like a storm. His breathing was heavy, chest heaving with the intensity of his emotions. Dark thoughts danced behind his eyes, a reminder of the darkness that threatened to overtake him if he couldn't find a way to quell the rage that simmered beneath the surface.
Black ink oozed from the torn canvas, resembling the blood of portraits. It dripped in a macabre pattern, each drop falling and pooling ominously on the ground with a rhythmic 'drip... drip... drip...' Harry dared not look back, retreating further into the shadows as lights flickered on and students streamed out of the room, casting worried glances at their trembling portraits.
The urgency escalated when Percy, the Head Boy, spoke up with an uncharacteristically sharp voice. "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick."
Heads turned, whispers rippled through the crowd, and students at the back stood on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of the unfolding scene.
"What's going on?" Ginny Weasley asked breathlessly as she arrived on the scene.
Moments later, Professor Dumbledore arrived, his presence commanding. The Gryffindors parted to make way for him, and Daemon, Ron, and Hermione edged closer, curiosity etched on their faces.
"Oh, my—" Hermione gasped, her voice barely a whisper as she instinctively stepped back.
Meanwhile, Harry silently growled, leveraging himself higher to observe from his vantage point above.
Dumbledore cast a brief, solemn glance at the ruined painting before turning to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him. Their expressions mirrored concern and apprehension as they converged on the unsettling scene.
The air crackled with tension as Dumbledore assessed the situation, his demeanor grave. The ink continued to drip steadily, a grim testament to the disturbance that had unfolded. What had started as Harry's outburst of anger now threatened to unravel into something far more serious, casting a shadow over the once tranquil corridors of Hogwarts.
"We need to find her," Dumbledore's voice carried authority and urgency. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."
"You'll be lucky!" A cackling voice interrupted. Harry's gaze shot upward, his icy green eyes narrowing as he spotted Peeves the Poltergeist bobbing mischievously, just out of sight from the group.
"Oh no you don't," Harry hissed, his anger boiling over. Peeves seemed to freeze mid-laugh, his eyes darting around as he caught wind of the haunting hiss that emanated from Harry.
"Is it the Bloody Baron, sir?" Peeves asked randomly, his expression wary as he scanned the surroundings, still hovering too high for anyone to reach easily.
Harry found himself oddly calmed by the prospect of taking out his frustration on the troublesome poltergeist. Without hesitation, he launched himself into action. Peeves shrieked in surprise as Harry swooped past, his shadowy form hissing and spitting, a claw-like appendage extended from the smoky limb resembling a dragon's talon.
The poltergeist's mocking demeanor faltered further when Harry's claw grazed his incorporeal form, leaving a trail of silver blood in its wake. Harry spun around swiftly, diving down to deliver a powerful blow to the top of Peeves's skull. The poltergeist whimpered in pain and surprise, his momentum carrying him downward until he collided with a small ledge near a portrait, the impact barely slowing his descent as he came to rest, gasping for breath.
The onlookers, previously tense with worry over the mysterious incident involving the portrait, now watched in astonishment at Harry's unexpected confrontation with Peeves. The air crackled with a mix of awe and apprehension as Harry stood tall, his shadowy form flickering ominously in the dim light.
Amidst the gasps and murmurs of the crowd, Dumbledore's voice rang out once more, cutting through the tension. "Continue the search. We must find the Fat Lady quickly." His words spurred Professor McGonagall into action, and she hurried off to relay Dumbledore's orders to Filch, leaving the students and staff to process the chaotic events unfolding around them.
Harry remained silent, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. His anger had found a temporary outlet, but beneath it all, a deeper unrest simmered—a reminder of the darkness within, and the unpredictable nature of the forces he harbored.
"Peeves," Dumbledore's voice was a quiet command, yet it carried immense authority. His eyes scanned upward, and with a flick of his wand, he sent up his strongest light spell, illuminating the area. However, even the keenest eyes couldn't penetrate the shadows where Harry lurked, hidden with uncanny skill.
"Who did this?" Dumbledore's tone was gentle, his hand smoothing over the torn canvas of the portrait, coaxing the tears back into place. Peeves, still trembling from Harry's unexpected assault, cracked open an eye, fear etched on his spectral face.
"It... it just vanished," Peeves croaked out, clutching his arm as if trying to staunch the silver blood that trickled from the wound. Dumbledore's expression hardened imperceptibly, and more teachers arrived on the scene: Professor Sprout, McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey, their faces a mix of horror and concern as they took in the injured poltergeist.
"What vanished, Peeves?" Dumbledore pressed, his voice now tinged with impatience. Nearby portraits nodded in agreement, their features etched with fear as they scanned the surroundings for any sign of Harry, who remained invisible in the shadows.
"B-big black smoke... it was... it was horrible," Peeves stammered, his voice strained and ragged. A few other nearby portraits murmured in agreement, confirming the unsettling presence they had witnessed.
"Excuse me, Headmaster, but I saw it too," a woman in a nearby photo spoke up, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. She set down her umbrella, her expression solemn as she added her testimony to the growing account.
The atmosphere in the corridor grew heavier with each passing moment. Dumbledore's gaze swept over the assembled teachers and students, his mind undoubtedly racing with thoughts of the implications of what had transpired. The hunt for the Fat Lady and the search for answers had just begun, and with Harry's elusive presence lingering in the background, the mystery deepened.
"It was big and black," the woman in the portrait continued, her voice quivering. "I thought it was a Dementor at first, except that it wasn't draining happiness. Rather, it seemed to... radiate anger and hate." She shivered slightly, her eyes darting around the room. "It just…attacked. It was charging at a few Gryffindors, Kendral and Lucas. They vanished into the common room, and then it pulled back and attacked the Fat Lady... wanting to get in, I assume." She finished, looking down at the silent Gryffindors.
"…Heads of House, please alert the staff and keep the students inside the common rooms," Dumbledore commanded, his voice firm. He spun around, casting another light spell, this one more intense and slightly burning. Harry swept forward, drifting above, and the portraits at his level screamed, pointing in terror.
Dumbledore reacted swiftly, his wand pointed at the shadowy form. "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted.
Harry had never stopped to imagine how painful a Patronus might be. A large silver owl burst from the tip of Dumbledore's wand, soaring upward and intercepting the back part of Harry's shadowy tail, slashing through it and burning it with silver dust. Harry shrieked, a sound that resonated through his entire form, echoing in the corridor.
In response, the students who knew the spell joined in. "Expecto Patronum!" they cried, their voices ringing out in unison. Silver animals burst forth from their wands, each one unique and brilliant, their light chasing the shadows away.
Harry's form wavered under the assault. The combined Patronuses forced him to retreat, his anger momentarily overshadowed by pain and the need to escape. He slipped through the nearest wall, the shadowy tendrils of his form flickering and smoking from the Patronus attacks.
In the silence that followed, Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, filled with a mix of concern and determination. "We need to find the Fat Lady and secure the castle," he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "Professor McGonagall, coordinate the search with Mr. Filch. Professors Lupin and Snape, check the surrounding areas. We cannot allow this... creature to cause further harm."
As the teachers dispersed to carry out Dumbledore's orders, the students remained huddled together, their expressions a mix of fear and curiosity. The mystery of the shadowy attacker loomed large, casting a dark cloud over the night's events. And in the depths of the castle, hidden within its many secrets, Harry's anger simmered, waiting for another opportunity to strike.
The onslaught of Patronuses and other magical creatures crashed into Harry, their silver forms searing and burning his shadowy body with excruciating pain. He writhed and twisted, his form contorting and shifting rapidly, causing the watching teachers to gasp in horror at the sight.
With a sudden lunge, Harry slashed out at Professor Sprout. She cried out in pain as she was knocked off her feet, clutching her dislocated shoulder and ribs, the impact leaving her with at least two cracked ribs.
Harry hissed, his back arched in a menacing posture, his sharp green eyes glaring down at the terrified Gryffindors. Among them, Ginny Weasley stood frozen, her face drained of color as she stared at him in sheer terror.
"You're alive," she mouthed, her words lost in the chaos around them. Perhaps she even spoke them aloud, but Harry couldn't hear over the rush of his own fury. He turned, crouching low, and shot past Dumbledore, his shadowy form whispering eerily in the Headmaster's ear.
"Nobody is safe..."
The chilling words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the danger that lurked within Hogwarts' walls. Dumbledore's expression darkened briefly, his eyes narrowing with determination as he watched Harry vanish into the shadows once more.
"We must reinforce the defenses," Dumbledore declared firmly, addressing the gathered teachers and students. "This creature is formidable and unpredictable. No one is to wander the corridors alone. We will find a way to contain it."
The urgency in his voice spurred the teachers into action. They began organizing patrols and strengthening protective spells throughout the castle, their faces grim with the realization that Hogwarts faced a threat unlike any they had encountered before.
Meanwhile, in the shadows, Harry's anger burned fiercely. His encounter with the Patronuses had wounded him deeply, but it had also fueled his determination. As he slinked through the darkness, a relentless desire for vengeance simmered within him, driving him onward in his quest for retribution.
The night was far from over, and the battle between light and shadow within Hogwarts had only just begun.
The castle buzzed with activity as teachers and prefects hurried to reinforce the defenses. Protective spells were cast, and patrols were organized, with strict instructions to travel in pairs or groups. The atmosphere was tense, filled with whispers of fear and speculation about the shadowy assailant.
Harry, meanwhile, retreated deeper into the castle's labyrinthine passages, his anger simmering beneath the surface. The pain from the Patronuses had subsided somewhat, replaced by a burning desire for vengeance. His form flickered and shifted, blending seamlessly with the shadows as he moved.
In a dimly lit corridor, Harry paused, his sharp green eyes scanning the surroundings. He could hear the distant murmur of voices, the occasional clatter of hurried footsteps. His mind raced with thoughts of his next move, the darkness within him growing more insistent.
Suddenly, a faint sound caught his attention. It was the soft, muffled sobs of someone in distress. Harry followed the sound, his form gliding silently through the shadows. He found himself outside a small, secluded alcove, where a young girl sat huddled, her face buried in her hands.
It was Ginny Weasley. Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs, and her body trembled with fear. Harry felt a pang of something unfamiliar—an emotion he couldn't quite place. It was as if her vulnerability stirred a memory deep within him, a flicker of humanity amidst the darkness.
He hesitated, his form wavering. For a moment, he considered revealing himself, speaking to her. But the anger and pain that had fueled his transformation surged back, overwhelming any trace of compassion. He turned away, the shadows enveloping him once more.
Meanwhile, in the Great Hall, Dumbledore convened an emergency meeting with the heads of houses and key staff members. His expression was grave as he addressed them.
"We are facing a formidable and elusive adversary," he began, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. "This shadow creature is unlike anything we have encountered before. It can move through the castle undetected, and it poses a grave threat to our students and staff."
Professor McGonagall nodded, her face stern. "What can we do, Albus? How can we stop it?"
Dumbledore sighed, his eyes momentarily reflecting the weight of his responsibility. "We must strengthen the wards around the castle and increase our patrols. But more importantly, we need to understand what this creature is and what drives it. Only then can we hope to find a way to contain it."
Professor Snape spoke up, his voice dripping with skepticism. "And how do you propose we do that, Headmaster? This thing has already injured Professor Sprout and caused considerable fear among the students."
"We will need to pool our knowledge and resources," Dumbledore replied firmly. "Professor Lupin, I want you to focus on researching any historical accounts of similar entities. Professor Snape, I need you to work on a potion that might reveal the creature's nature or weaknesses."
As the meeting continued, the urgency of their mission became clear. The teachers were united in their determination to protect Hogwarts and its inhabitants, but the challenge before them was immense.
Back in the shadows, Harry prowled the castle, his mind a tumult of conflicting emotions. The encounter with Ginny had stirred something within him, but the darkness that had overtaken him was relentless. He knew that his actions had consequences, but the path he had chosen seemed inescapable.
The night wore on, the castle's defenses growing stronger with each passing hour. But the shadowy presence within its walls remained a constant, lurking threat, a reminder that the battle between light and darkness was far from over. And as Harry moved through the shadows, he knew that the true test of his resolve was yet to come.
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