P*T*E*N Page is up and running, slightly ahead of FFN and AO3. This pace will change to significantly ahead of FFN/AO3 once we reach the next hiatus point (at the end of the Durmstrang Arc). Visit P*T*E*N / 521dream if interested. Posted stories include A Flaw in Fate and Sacred Sight (A King's Path Rewrite/Remaster).
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The next chapter will be published the Saturday after next.
Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate
The Desolations of Destiny
XIII. Every Cloud has a Silver Lining
Creak.
Harry quietly slid the door to his compartment shut, tiptoeing across the length of the hall. Subdued flames twisted beneath the mantle. A plate full of biscuits lay uneaten atop one of the couches, and a pale-skinned Hermione Granger sat up in her armchair, fast asleep.
You'd think she was preparing for her O.W.L.s tomorrow.
"Nevermind that," Harry reminded himself, "You've got shit to do."
Your precious puppet awaits you, remember?
"I'm going to fucking murder Bella," Harry growled moodily, plucking one of the remaining biscuits from the plate on the couch, "Especially if she gets caught meeting me at Durmstrang."
He stepped past the unconscious form of Hermione Granger, his fingers reaching for the door. The cool evening breeze trailed across his face.
"I wondered when you would show yourself."
Harry froze. A tall figure stood peacefully at the end of the Hogwarts Express, staring up at the stars. Harry slowly stepped toward the man, his breath fogging up in the air before him.
"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."
"It is two in the morning, Harry, not two in the evening," Dumbledore corrected, "Though I imagine it makes little difference to one as young as yourself."
The Headmaster paused, pulling something from the insides of his robes. Harry felt the colour draining from his face.
"You recognize this, I presume?"
He held out the book, allowing Harry to take it from him. The silver inscription glowed beneath the moonlight:
'Rituals: The Evile Art of Magickal Alterations'
"I nicked it from the Durmstrang Library last night," Harry admitted faintly.
"The Hogwarts Express brought it to my attention," Dumbledore told him, "It is not nearly as loyal to the students as Hogwarts castle. Less familiar, I imagine."
Dumbledore turned to him. Harry could make out the seriousness in his eyes.
"You'd best take good care of that book. Do not leave it out for prying eyes to see."
"You're not going to reprimand me for stealing it?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"Will you return it?"
"Er - well, of course -"
"Then why should I?" asked Dumbledore serenely, "As Hogwarts Champion, you have every right to make use of the knowledge the Durmstrang Library provides."
"Even knowledge of this sort?"
Dumbledore frowned. His blue eyes flicked back to the book in Harry's hand.
"Not even I wear hypocrisy well," he sighed, "The magic in that book is not particularly concerning, either."
"Not dark, then."
"You and I both know there is no such thing," the headmaster frowned, "Magic is shaped by intent, nothing more."
"I know that," Harry assured him, "It's just a bit funny that the Ministry doesn't."
"Oh, they know," Dumbledore said with an air of certainty, "After Voldemort, however, they would rather not run the risk of producing exceptionally talented witches and wizards. They believe an illustrious past will hide the mediocracy of the present."
"I thought Hogwarts was one of the best magical schools in the world?"
"It is. The subject matter the school provides is simply more limited than before. At times I imagine that is for the best."
Harry shivered
"Are you worried there might be another Voldemort or Grindelwald?"
"In a way," Dumbledore admitted, "More than that, I firmly believe that magic is shaped by intent."
He paused, replacing his half-moon spectacles on the bridge of his nose.
"Some magics, however," Professor Dumbledore frowned, "can only possibly be born from twisted intentions."
"Whether or not you use that magic is a choice, too," Harry muttered faintly, "The fact that you don't use those sorts of spells is its own kind of good intent, isn't it?"
"I suppose," Dumbledore smiled, "But we digress. I expect you to think carefully about how you use that book."
"Have you used it?"
"I have, many moons ago."
"Why?"
"Why else?" the Headmaster's shoulders fell, "To grow stronger. Faster. More powerful -"
"And rituals can do that? Just like that?"
"Of course not," Dumbledore shook his head, "In Medieval times, they called rituals Deals with the Devil. There's a reason for that, you know."
"Because you get cheated?"
"Because the price is always greater than what you're given, and because it never looks that way until it's too late."
"So I shouldn't do them?" Harry surmised nervously, "You're not making them sound all too great, you know."
"Ritualistic magic has its uses," Dumbledore conceded, "Trading a music box for a sugar quill might sound like a lousy deal, but for a deaf man it's quite the bargain."
"Did Grindelwald ever use them?"
Dumbledore paused.
"He did," said the headmaster slowly, "He was always far more daring than I. Though I never strayed past the most basic of rituals, he pushed them further than I thought possible."
"How so?"
"Gellert Grindelwald was not always so gifted a seer, Harry," Dumbledore whispered, "His grey eye is proof of this - a reminder of a failed ritual meant to enhance the gift of sight."
"He - what?" Harry sputtered, "Grindel - he just made himself a seer?"
"I do not believe so," Dumbledore frowned, "Merely enhancing the gift of sight is already unheard of. I do not believe that even Gellert, prodigious though he is, could actually recreate such a skill."
"The sacrifice would be too great?"
"To say the least."
"I'll remember to be careful, then," Harry said eventually, "It shouldn't be hard."
It's not like I'm trying to see into the future.
"Are you certain?" Dumbledore frowned, "Do you not also have goals equally as ambitious?"
Harry shook his head.
"More basic things, really. Normal sight - without my glasses, I mean . . . "
Astoria's disease, too.
Harry frowned, ignoring the knowing glint in Dumbledore's eyes.
"Something to think about, then," said the headmaster eventually, "But alas, I shall think of it another day. A particularly cozy bed awaits me."
"Got a long day ahead?"
"A trip to visit the Scandinavian Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore yawned, "International Magical Cooperation at its finest."
"Well, seeing as I've got nothing, I can linger for a bit, right?"
"That choice is yours, Harry," the headmaster smiled, "But, for now, I bid you adieu."
And with a nod of his head, Professor Dumbledore backed into the Hogwarts Express. The door slowly rattled shut behind him.
Time to find Bella.
Harry set off, a faint trail following him as he waddled through the snow-covered dirt. The book on rituals shrank with a gentle tap of his finger. He shoved it into his pocket, his eyes roaming the Durmstrang grounds.
If I was a Lestrange, where would I be hiding?
"Not near the castle," Harry muttered to himself, "Far too risky - I'd probably get caught -"
Exactly the sort of thing Bella would do, then.
Harry paused. He turned, staring at the faint outline of Durmstrang castle with disbelief.
No, she wouldn't. Not on an assignment her beloved master assigned her.
He shook his head, setting off toward the mountains that sat off in the distance. Though they were many miles away, the snowy alps dominated the horizon. A faint trail of lights connected the base of the mountain to a peak Harry couldn't see, one hidden behind an array of fog and clouds.
I didn't know there was a path up those mountains. Seems dangerous.
Harry tore his eyes away from the vague lights. The forest he had flown through with Krum was just a few hundred meters away. He studied it thoughtfully.
Definitely Bella's type.
"It's along the 'icy outskirts', too," Harry added thoughtfully, "At least I think that's what the Truest said -"
To be fair, just about everything here is near some sort of icy outskirt.
"Waste of my fucking time," Harry snapped as he headed toward the thin forest, "For your sake, Bella, you'd better be here -"
What little light remained quickly wilted away as Harry strolled through the tall trees. Unlike the Forbidden Forest, this place felt oddly mundane. Not a sound tore through the night. There was no strange or eerie magic, either. Just the calm, peace and quiet of the abnormally normal.
Clop. Clop. Clop.
Harry turned. A large, thin creature emerged from the bushes. Harry watched as a slim head faced him, crowned by antlers the colour of ice.
"You're not a normal stag, are you?" asked Harry curiously, "I've never seen one as beautiful as you."
The stag stared at him. Its white fur coat shimmered like freshly fallen snow. Harry watched as it slowly ducked its head, its translucent antlers glowing a faint blue.
"I'm Harry, by the way," he added helpfully, "It's nice to meet you."
The stag straightened up. Harry watched as it turned, almost nodding at something off to the left, before bounding away into the forest and out of sight.
"I've got to learn how to talk to animals," Harry moaned, his head in his hands, "Not a normal stag' . . ."
He trailed off, glancing in the direction where the stag had nodded.
I wonder . . .
He set off again. The trees were sparser here, their leaves wilted and lifeless.
"Bella?" Harry whispered faintly, pushing through the bushes, "Bella, are you -"
A surge of feeling slipped across his skull. Harry came to a sudden stop, his eyes scrunched together with concentration. Someone familiar was nearby. It wasn't Bella.
What the fuck is she doing here?
Harry followed the feeling. It guided him through the trees, leading him in the direction of the tall mountains that lined the horizon. Harry held his head higher, his chest held up in an impressive manner as he reached the very end of the forest -
Fuck!
Harry skittered to a stop in the nick of time. The forest had come to a very sudden end. Harry was standing on a cliff overlooking a very large and very deep looking gorge. Icy chunks stuck out from the strong current, just barely lodged in place. On the other side of the gorge, some hundred of meters away, an open field of dirt and snow sat peacefully. The base of the alps lingered further beyond.
Where are you?
Harry studied the horizon, struggling to focus on the unnatural pull that tugged at his mind.
You've got to be somewhere over - over -
"No fucking way."
Harry stared onward, blinking furiously at one of the chunks of ice that stuck out from the gorge. Perhaps the largest of the lot, it sat just a few dozen feet from the other end of the gorge. Confusingly, it also looked completely empty.
She's definitely there. I can feel it.
Harry glanced back at the forest. A tinge of uncertainty slipped beneath his skin.
I have to make sure she doesn't see Bellatrix.
"A Stunning Charm could work," said Harry thoughtfully. "So long as she doesn't fall into the gorge and die -"
Wouldn't be a good look for the Hogwarts Champion.
Harry sighed, inspecting the chunk of ice. His eyes squinted from the lights that lined the mountain beyond.
Would someone turn the damn lights off -
Harry's heart turned in his chest. He leaned closer, almost falling from the cliff as he took a hard look at the lights.
"Those are people," he realised aloud, "Lots and lots of people."
What they were doing, Harry wasn't sure. He did, however, recognize the silver robes that adorned each and every one of them.
"Scandinavian Ministry Officials," Harry frowned, "I thought they didn't have power within the Durmstrang grounds . . ."
Could be about the Triwizard Tournament.
Harry glanced between the mountains, the forest, and the little chunk of ice. A wary decision formed within the confines of his skull.
"International Magical Cooperation," Harry muttered moodily to himself, "At least Dumbledore will be happy."
And with a slight sigh, he twisted on the spot, the world surrounding him becoming nothing but a vague blur.
Crack.
"Stupefy!"
"Relax!" Harry yelped, weaving out of the way in the nick of time, "It's me!"
The air shimmered. Gabrielle Delacour stood opposite him, looking thoroughly irritated.
"It's you," she repeated slowly, "Is that supposed to be reassuring?"
"Er - yes?"
"How did you find me?"
I went looking for my mass-murdering friend and a glowy deer led me to you instead.
For some reason, Harry felt that explanation wouldn't go over well.
"You're a Veela, aren't you?" Harry asked. Gabrielle glared at him, "Your magic's meant to attract attention. Doesn't work well when you're trying to hide."
The anger in her eyes lessened slightly. Harry frowned.
"What, you thought I was judging you?" he asked seriously, "I'm a half-blood, you know. Where I come from, I'm just as bad as you are."
Snow-covered stone slid beneath his heels. Harry inspected himself carefully, wincing as he held his hands up to his eyes.
"I always lose the fucking finger nails," he snapped irritably, "For fucks sake -"
He shook his head, glancing curiously up at the trail of lights that littered the mountain before them.
"You reckon they're here for the tournament, don't you?" he asked curiously. He inspected the workers more closely, "They're definitely Scandinavian Ministry officials."
"Well-spotted," Gabrielle frowned, "What gave that way, the uniform?"
Harry turned to her. Silver hair glistened beneath the moonlight, framing her pale face. It was disturbing to Harry just how much she looked like Emily.
"Stop staring at me," she glared at him, throwing her baby blue hood over her head, "Just because you like when people stare at you doesn't mean everyone else does."
"I don't," said Harry absentmindedly, "Like the stares, I mean. You just look like someone I know."
"Right," Delacour said disbelievingly. Harry ignored her.
"Are we going for a closer look, then?" he asked, his eyes slowly roaming up toward the mountain peaks.
"We?"
"Well, I'm going," said Harry stubbornly, "I imagine you're equally curious -"
"Cheating is looked down upon at Beauxbatons," Gabrielle said pointedly.
Harry snorted.
"Like you give a shit," he laughed, "C'mon -"
Crack.
He reappeared at the other end of the gorge. Gabrielle glared at him from the chunk of ice
"Hurry up!"
"Not everyone can apparate, asshole," she snapped irritably, "Give me a moment -"
Water rose from the ravine beneath them, solidifying into an icy bridge. Harry clapped in mock applause as Gabrielle slowly approached, sending a large number ten into the sky with an idle flick of his wand.
"You're annoying," Gabrielle said dryly as she passed him. Harry laughed again.
"Bundle of joy, aren't you?"
Gabrielle ignored him, stalking toward the base of the mountain. Harry followed.
The beads of light grew larger now. They were flames, each flickering within bronze lanterns that littered the vast mountain range. They seemed to lead directly into the mountain itself.
"A cave," Harry whispered thoughtfully, "We'd best Disillusion ourselves if we're going to sneak inside -"
He turned. The silver-haired French girl was nowhere to be found.
"Funny," Harry concentrated, allowing her magic to wash over him. He turned slightly to the left, "I can still see you, you know."
"How are you doing that?" Gabrielle's voice, detached and thoroughly irritated, called from somewhere before him.
"Magic."
A stream of red magic whirled just past his ear. Harry yelped.
"Do you always attack people whenever things don't go your way?" he asked loudly. A soft palm clamped across his lips.
"Quiet," Gabrielle hissed, "Or you'll get us both caught."
Her palm fell from his lips. Harry stared at the snow, watching as the girl's invisible feet dug deep prints into the snow.
"And for what it's worth, I do. That's why things usually go my way."
She turned around, heading for the cave on the slopes above. Harry followed
"You know, Gandhi wouldn't like you much," he said snarkily, pulling his wand from the pocket of his robes.
"Who?"
"A muggle. Preached about being peaceful and nonviolent -"
"That's funny," Delacour laughed somewhere before him, "Isn't war your gimmick?"
"That's Voldemort's gimmick," Harry snapped irritably, "I'm not trying to take over the world, in case you haven't noticed."
"Odd, seeing the sort of magic you apparently use."
Harry frowned.
"Talking about Balke's class?"
"Is that what the little dwarf is called?" Gabrielle called, "Useless little rodent . . ."
At least we've got some common ground.
"In case you forgot, the 'useless little rodent' was going after the both of us," Harry reminded her, "I'm clearly not the only one dabbling in the Dark Arts. Beauxbatons curriculum too boring for you?"
"Too easy," said Delacour hotly, "Too slow and too simple. I am not willing to waste my time with coloring books when I am capable of so much more."
"Well said," Harry clapped in applause, ducking beneath another curse hurtled his way, "Ten points for Beauxbatons."
"I am going to wipe the floor with you, Harry Potter."
"In the Tournament?"
"In more ways than one."
The entrance to the cave loomed before them. Nearly a hundred feet tall, it was surrounded by Ministry officials and glowing lanterns. Carts and wagons rolled in and out of the cave, which led higher up into the mountain itself.
There's got to be at least a hundred people here.
"You should probably lead the way," Harry whispered in Gabrielle's direction, "Seeing as I can keep better track of you than you can me -"
Gabrielle huffed with irritation. Harry fought back a grin.
"Fine. If anything starts going wrong, apparate away."
"And you?"
"I can take care of myself."
"Well, you definitely can't apparate -"
"I said I'd take care of myself."
"Alright, alright," Harry sighed, "Lead the way, silver-hair."
Harry could almost feel the glare Gabrielle surely sent his way.
"Scarhead," she hissed, heading toward the entrance. Harry stuck his tongue out at her.
The two of them slipped past a stream of burly wizards, quickly following a cart entering the cavern. They walked quickly, struggling to keep up with the rolling wagon. They trailed it through the archway and past the guards on either side, entering the cave at long last.
Harry looked around. The save seemed somewhere between natural and inhabited. Though sheets of uncarved stone covered the floors and walls, there were a number of wooden plank paths strung together haphazardly along the way. They continued chasing after the cart, following it to wherever it was going.
"Now what?" Harry asked, somewhat out of breath, "I'm not running up a fucking mountain just to see where this stupid cart is going -"
"I am," Gabrielle, snapped, "So you can either shut up or go back."
"How about neither - fucking hell!"
Harry rubbed furiously at his shoulder. The sharp effects of the Tickling Charm quickly faded away.
"That actually hurt, you know."
Gabrielle snickered.
"Dueling Extraordinaire Harry Potter afraid of a tickling charm?"
Harry frowned.
"How much have you heard about Ardelean's Dueling Classes?" he asked curiously.
"Nothing at all," said Gabrielle simply, "Unlike you, I don't waste my time on idle gossip."
"Not even on another Triwizard Champion?"
"Arrogant, aren't you?"
"I prefer strategic," Harry said thoughtfully, "Knowing that sort of shit will definitely be useful when it's time for us to face off in the first task."
He paused, taking a deep breath as they continued to chase after the wagon.
"On a completely unrelated subject, what are your strengths and weaknesses?"
A short giggle escaped Gabrielle's lips. Harry frowned as she quickly silenced it.
"Your laugh doesn't sound half bad when it's genuine."
"Shut up, Scarhead."
Harry held back a stream of rather choice words.
I'll kill Balke for teaching her that stupid nickname.
The wagon came to a sudden stop. It took everything Harry had to avoid crashing right into it.
"We're here," Gabrielle muttered softly.
"Where is 'here', exactly?"
The two of them glanced around the cavern. Harry looked up at what could only be described as a mountain within the mountain. It was surrounded by a spiral of stone steps, leading up to its peak. Various wooden bridges and walkways connected the inner mountain to routes in the outer wall. It was very clear to Harry that the path they took was one of many leading toward whatever lay ahead of them.
Soft clatters reached his ears as Gabrielle tiptoed toward the stone spiral. Harry followed after her. Glowing lanterns lined every few steps up. The shadows further hid the floor below with every step he took.
After what felt like ages, Gabrielle came to a stop. Harry shook his head, trying to see whatever had caught her attention -
Woah.
A large, glowing temple sat atop the now flat surface. Snow rained gently from above, for there was a large hole in the outer mountain where a peak should have been. A number of stone statues surrounded the temple on all sides, almost bowing to a large shrine in the very center.
"What's that a statue of?" he whispered curiously.
"Some sort of bird, I think," Gabrielle muttered. She leaned forward, taking a closer look -
"INTRUDERS! INTRUDERS! INTRUDERS!"
Sharp screeches tore through the hollowed mountain. Harry watched as a burst of water shot from each of the lanterns lining the spiral path. Invisible hands tried to drag him out of its path, but it was too late -
"The Thief's Downfall," Gabrielle whispered, her wet face slowly swimming into view, "It washes away magic meant to disguise you."
No more Disillusionments, then.
Harry swore, clamping his hands over his ears as the screeching grew louder.
"We need to go, we need to go now!" he shouted through the ruckus, "Come on -"
He grabbed Gabrielle by the arm and closed his eyes, begging the world around him to melt away. Nothing happened.
"What are you doing?" Gabrielle almost shouted, "Apparate!"
"I'm trying!" Harry hissed, "I - I splinch occasionally, but I'm usually able to do it -"
"Well, now's not the best time for stage fright!"
Harry closed his eyes, struggling to focus. A faint wave of foreign magic rolled over him, and understanding slipped across his skin.
"Anti-Apparation Wards," he whispered, forcing his mind calm, "They've locked us in."
"Shit," Gabby swore, wiping the water from her brow, "We need to run -"
"Run?" Harry almost yelled, "What about your escape plan? You said you had one -"
Glowing torches glimmered at the bottom of the spiral steps. Harry could faintly make out the vague forms of several dozen wizards, all charging up the stone stairs leading directly toward them.
"I said run!"
The two of them bolted up the steps, sputtering as streams of the Thief's Downfall burst from the lanterns and onto their panic-stricken forms. The roaring crowd grew closer and closer -
"We have to fight them!"
"Have you lost your mind?" Gabrielle roared, "There's dozens of them -"
"Gabrielle, we're running up stairs that lead to fucking nowhere! We can just push them off the steps, all we need to do is buy ourselves enough time to escape!"
Gabrielle panted furiously, wiping the waterlike potion from her brow. Uncertainty loomed deep within her bright blue eyes.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
Harry nodded tiredly.
"Then lead the way."
They came to a stop. Harry quickly turned to her, waving his wand over her robes.
"Colovaria," he murmured, shifting her rather recognizable Beauxbatons blue robes into a plain black. He pressed the tip of his wand against her hair -
"Don't bother," Gabrielle murmured, pushing his wand away, "I'm a Veela. My magic won't let you change the color of my hair."
"The Thief's Downfall would probably wash it away, anyway," Harry admitted quickly, "Keep your hood up. Don't let them see your face."
"And you?"
Harry waved his wand across his chest.
Change me.
His Hogwarts robes shifted to plain black. Though he could not see his reflection, Harry was almost certain his features were identical to when he had visited Borgin and Burke's.
Tom Riddle again. Emily's favorite grandson.
The crowd of Ministry officials drew closer. Harry held his wand out.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
"Now!"
A torrent of magic soared from both of their wands. The crowd below fought back, but they struggled to stand atop the thin spiral staircase. Harry watched as they fell from the edge of the stairs, hurtling toward the floor below -
No!
The falling wizards all slowed with gentle waves of their wands. Harry held back a sigh of relief, scanning the faces of the remaining crowd. Their thoughts poured into his mind.
"They're just trying to capture us!" he shouted to Gabrielle, "We need to figure a way out of here!"
He turned to Delacour. The silver-haired girl moved like an acrobat, her wand a flourish of bright colors. Several workers fell from the stairs with every flick of her wrist -
"Stupefy!"
About a dozen Stunning Charms soared toward them at once. There was nowhere to run - nowhere to hide -
Protect me.
An invisible shield flared to life in front of him, crumbling beneath the power of dozens of Stunning Charms. Harry flinched as one of them crashed into a lantern behind him, sending shrapnel flying everywhere. The metal scratched thin lines across Gabrielle's pale face.
The girl faltered. Harry grit his teeth as her movements slowed significantly, uncertainty dominating her features -
"Bombarda Maxima!" Harry roared, sending more than a dozen workers flying off the steps. He quickly turned to Gabrielle, "Gabrielle, you need to get us out now!"
Her gaze shifted from Harry to the roaring crowd below. Discomfort stretched across her features.
"Gabrielle," Harry whispered, sending another Explosion Curse at the crowd. They blocked it, "Gabrielle, whatever your plan was, fucking do it!"
The crowd was twenty feet away . . . fifteen . . . ten -
A familiar medallion sat tight within Gabrielle's palm. Harry stared at the girl, eyes wide with surprise.
"Be safe," the girl whispered.
The mountain, the roaring crowd, and the spiral stone steps all disappeared with a whirl of light.