Past
Draco Malfoy sat alone in the dimly lit study of Malfoy Manor, his hands trembling as he stared into the flickering flames of the hearth. The chaos of the night lingered in his mind—the sharp precision of Harry Potter, the eerie calm with which he dispatched Death Eaters, and the cold determination in his eyes.
"Different," Draco whispered to himself, repeating the word he had spoken to Harry.
He had always known Potter as a rival, a symbol of everything he despised—or was told to despise. But tonight had shattered that image. Potter wasn't just fighting a war; he was waging it with an intensity that Draco couldn't comprehend.
The study door creaked open, and Narcissa stepped in, her face pale but composed. "Draco," she said softly, her voice weary.
Draco looked up at his mother, his throat dry. "He… let you go."
She nodded, seating herself beside him. "He's not the boy you once knew."
Draco's jaw clenched. "He's dangerous."
Narcissa's eyes softened. "And so is the Dark Lord. More than ever. Potter fights for something. Do you understand the difference?"
Draco swallowed hard, his mind racing. He had grown up believing in Voldemort's power, his vision of dominance, but tonight had shown him cracks in that foundation.
"Do you think he can win?" Draco asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Narcissa hesitated before answering, her gaze fixed on the fire. "I think… he has a chance. But he won't stop fighting, even if it destroys him."
Draco looked back into the flames, his thoughts muddled. For the first time, he wasn't sure where his loyalties lay.
Meanwhile, at the trio's safe house, Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat around a worn wooden table covered in parchment and maps. Luna rested nearby, her head on a cushion, her delicate features lined with exhaustion.
"We have to assume the information is accurate," Hermione said, tapping her quill against her notes. "If the cup Horcrux is in Bellatrix's vault, we'll need a plan to get into Gringotts."
Ron let out a low whistle. "Breaking into the most secure place in the wizarding world. No problem, yeah?"
Harry leaned forward, his expression grim. "We don't have a choice. If the cup's there, we need it. But Gringotts is more than just goblins and guards. It's layers of magic, traps, and… other things."
"Other things?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.
Hermione gave him a pointed look. "Dragons, Ron. They use dragons to guard the high-security vaults."
Ron paled. "Oh. Great."
Harry ran a hand through his hair, his mind already working through possibilities. "We'll need disguises, a way past the goblins, and something to deal with the traps. If it comes to it… I can handle the dragon."
Both Hermione and Ron stared at him.
"Handle the dragon?" Hermione repeated incredulously.
Harry shrugged. "Let's just say I've had some practice."
Hermione sighed, her tone growing more serious. "This isn't just dangerous—it's suicidal. But… if we can pull it off, it'll be a major blow to Voldemort."
"Then we do it," Harry said firmly.
The next few days were a whirlwind of preparation. Hermione worked tirelessly to create Polyjuice Potion, carefully brewing it in the corner of their safe house. Ron and Harry took turns securing supplies—new wands, enchanted cloaks, and information on Gringotts' current security protocols.
Luna, though quieter than usual, offered her own insights. "The goblins respect deals, but they're wary of betrayal. If you're honest with them… they might surprise you."
Harry considered her words but knew honesty wouldn't be enough. Gringotts wasn't just any bank—it was a fortress, and Voldemort's influence would have made it even more impenetrable.
Back at Malfoy Manor, Draco stood outside the drawing room, listening as his father argued with a group of Death Eaters. Lucius's voice was strained, desperate.
"The Dark Lord has tasked us with finding Potter," Lucius said. "But we can't afford another failure. Do you understand what that means?"
Draco clenched his fists. His father was a shadow of the man he once was—broken, humiliated, and clinging to the last shreds of his power.
When the meeting ended, Draco slipped into the drawing room, his mother waiting for him by the window.
"What are you going to do?" Narcissa asked, her voice barely audible.
Draco hesitated, his mind a whirlwind of doubt and fear. "I don't know."
Narcissa stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Whatever choice you make, Draco, make it for yourself. Not for him."
While Harry and the group prepared for the heist, news reached Voldemort of their movements. His sources informed him of suspicious activity near Gringotts, and his fury was swift.
"They think they can challenge me?" he hissed, pacing his chamber.
Bellatrix knelt before him, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Shall I deal with them, my Lord?"
"No," Voldemort said, his voice dangerously calm. "Let them come. Let them walk into the jaws of death. And when they fail, the boy will come to me."
As Harry sat alone one night, studying the Gringotts layout, Hermione joined him.
"You're taking this all on yourself again," she said quietly.
Harry didn't look up. "I don't have a choice."
Hermione placed a hand on his arm. "We're with you, Harry. You don't have to do this alone."
Harry glanced at her, his expression softening for a moment. "Thanks, Hermione."
Ron entered the room, yawning. "Ready for another sleepless night?"
Harry smirked. "Always."
The three of them shared a brief, quiet moment before returning to their work. The stakes were higher than ever, but together, they were ready to face whatever came next.
Chapter 5
It was strange—almost like the town itself was alive, pulsating with raw magic that his senses couldn't quite tune out. It reminded him of something ancient and barely contained, like Hogwarts on a stormy night when the wards buzzed and shimmered in the air. But this was different. Darker. More volatile.
Magic had always felt instinctual to Harry—a part of him as natural as breathing—but ever since arriving in this world, his magic had been unpredictable. It obeyed him, yes, but it also reacted without his command, like it had developed a will of its own. He needed to understand how magic worked in this dimension, especially if he was going to survive whatever plans fate—or whoever summoned him—had in store.
He had been tracking magical hotspots around Sunnydale for days, following instinct and that same strange hum in his veins. He'd started with smaller anomalies—a haunted alley, an old graveyard filled with unexplainable whispers, a dilapidated church that felt eerily like the Room of Requirement when it shifted forms—but none of them led to any answers. Now, the sensation seemed to be drawing him toward the center of the town.
The further Harry ventured into Sunnydale, the stronger the feeling became—a chaotic, thrumming pulse that reverberated in his magic. It wasn't just in one place, but all around him, woven into the fabric of the town itself. At first, he had thought it was residual energy from the night he was summoned, but that didn't explain how the sensation seemed to grow more intense the deeper into the town he went.
It wasn't malevolent—at least, not entirely—but it wasn't comforting either. It felt ancient and raw, like something barely concealed beneath the surface. His magic responded instinctively, simmering under his skin as if preparing for a fight. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath, forcing it to settle.
The feeling reminded him of places of power back in his own world. Ancient ley lines, cursed grounds, or locations marked by old, wild magic that defied control. Except here, it wasn't a single point of focus—it spread across the entire town like veins in a body, all leading to one source.
Harry's eyes narrowed as he followed the sensation. He wasn't here just to satisfy his curiosity. This world was different from his own in ways he didn't fully understand. Its rules of magic were warped or simply didn't apply in the ways he was used to. He couldn't rely on the instincts and lessons that had guided him before. He needed to understand how things worked here—how magic worked here—or risk being caught off guard when it mattered most.
And right now, the strongest concentration of magic seemed to lead him toward the large building ahead.
Sunnydale High School.
He hadn't expected that. Then again, if there was one thing he had learned about magical places, it was that they often disguised themselves as something ordinary. The feeling was unmistakable now—the pulse of magic was centered here.
The building was alive with mundane activity: students milling about, teachers ushering them along, the normal chatter and chaos of school life. It should have been a perfectly normal place. But the closer Harry got, the more his instincts screamed that something unnatural lay beneath the surface. He paused at the school's front gate, letting his magic stretch out cautiously.
If this was the Hellmouth Dawn had mentioned, it wasn't just a sealed portal or a dormant hotspot. It was active—alive in a way that made his skin crawl.
"Brilliant," Harry muttered to himself. He hadn't expected his investigation to lead him to a school. He glanced at the front entrance and sighed. If this was where the magic was strongest, he had no choice but to go inside.
Approaching the double doors, he pulled his wand discreetly from his sleeve and muttered, "Alohomora." The lock clicked open, and he slipped inside without drawing attention. His disillusionment charm was holding steady, allowing him to blend into the background, though he knew better than to push his luck. The hum of distant footsteps and conversations echoed faintly through the hallways, but no one noticed him as he made his way deeper into the building.
The feeling intensified with each step, pulling him toward the lower levels. Harry took note of his surroundings—ordinary classrooms and hallways with lockers lining the walls. Nothing outwardly magical. But magic had a way of hiding itself in plain sight, especially in a place like this. He wasn't foolish enough to trust appearances.
As he passed a staircase leading down, the pulse of energy grew stronger, like a beacon calling to him from the depths below. He paused at the top of the stairs, resting his hand on the railing. The chaotic magic was almost tangible now, pressing against his senses with a weight that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
"Has to be the basement, or boiler room." he muttered. In his experience, places of power often had foundations buried deep underground. It made sense—if the Hellmouth truly existed, its core would likely be hidden beneath the school, just like other magical nexuses he had encountered.
He took a step forward but stopped when he heard a voice behind him.
"Harry?"
He turned quickly, wand hand twitching reflexively toward his side. But when he saw who had called him, he relaxed slightly.
Dawn stood a few feet away, her face a mixture of surprise and curiosity. She was dressed casually, a backpack slung over one shoulder, though she didn't appear to be on her way to class. Instead, she stared at him with a raised eyebrow, clearly trying to make sense of his presence.
"Dawn," Harry greeted, slipping his wand back into his sleeve. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Same," she replied, stepping closer. "What are you doing here? Please tell me you're not stalking me. Because if you are, that's… kinda weird."
Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing like that. I'm investigating something. Trying to understand how the magic in this world works."
"And you decided the best place to do that was my high school?" Dawn asked skeptically. "Let me guess—you sensed something spooky and followed it like a magic bloodhound?"
"Something like that," Harry admitted. "There's a concentration of chaotic energy here. I think it might be tied to the Hellmouth."
Dawn's playful expression faltered slightly, replaced by a more serious look. "Yeah, that would make sense. The Hellmouth's right underneath the school. Didn't anyone tell you?"
"No," Harry replied. "Figured it out myself."
"Of course you did," Dawn muttered, more to herself than to him. She glanced around the empty corridor, lowering her voice. "You're not planning to mess with it, are you?"
"Just want to see it," Harry assured her. "I won't mess with anything unless I have to."
Dawn hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. But if anyone asks, we're trying to find a place to makeout. I'm not getting in trouble because of you."
"Err, wouldn't that make you more in trouble?" Harry gave her a small smile. He appreciated her willingness to help, even if she clearly thought this was a bad idea.
"Well, considering where we are actually going… I know about five people that would say making out was better," Dawn said, gesturing for him to follow. "I'll show you where it is."
They headed toward the stairs together, the air growing colder and heavier as they descended. Harry's senses sharpened as they moved closer to the source of the magic. Whatever lay beneath the school, it was more than just a simple portal. It pulsed with ancient, barely-contained power—a gateway to something both familiar and unsettling.
Scene change
The deeper they descended, the stronger the oppressive energy became. The staircase gave way to narrow, dimly lit corridors, their cracked walls lined with old pipes and exposed wiring. The air grew colder with every step, and Harry could feel the weight of magic pressing down on him like an invisible force.
"It's not far," Dawn said quietly. Even she seemed more subdued now, her voice softer, as though afraid to disturb the eerie silence of the basement.
Harry's eyes scanned their surroundings. The atmosphere reminded him of places steeped in dark magic—tombs, ancient ruins, cursed sites—where the boundaries between worlds thinned and frayed. He couldn't help but wonder how anyone had thought building a school here was a good idea. Or maybe they hadn't known.
Or maybe they had.
"You've been down here before?" Harry asked, his voice low.
"Yeah," Dawn replied, glancing at him. "Not my favorite place, though. This place gives me the creeps, and for good reason."
Harry nodded in understanding. The pulse of chaotic energy was almost overwhelming now, like a drumbeat in his skull. They rounded a corner, and Dawn stopped in front of a large metal door. Rust and grime coated the surface, and the faint outline of a seal—etched into the metal in strange, twisting symbols—glimmered faintly under the flickering light.
"This is it," Dawn said, gesturing toward the door. "The Hellmouth."
Harry stepped forward, his gaze locked on the seal. The symbols were unlike any runes he had seen, though the longer he stared at them the more they seemed to shift and writhe like living things. His hand hovered over the door, feeling the magic radiating from it. It was raw, chaotic, but also ancient—older than any of the wards or protections he had encountered in his world.
"Barely contained," Harry murmured, his brow furrowing. "This seal's holding back a lot of energy, but it's… fragile."
Dawn crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. "Yeah, we've had a few close calls with it. There was a whole thing a couple of years ago with an Ascension. Long story, but let's just say this place has a bad habit of nearly ending the world on a regular basis."
"Sounds charming," Harry muttered, his fingers brushing the edge of the seal. The energy shifted under his touch, almost like it was recognizing him. His magic stirred in response, curious and wary at the same time. There was something else here, something deeper than just a portal to a demonic dimension.
"What's wrong?" Dawn asked, noticing his sudden stillness.
Harry shook his head slowly. "It's not just a gateway. There's more to this place. It feels… familiar somehow. Like it's connected to something I've encountered before."
Dawn raised an eyebrow. "You've got a Hellmouth back home?"
"Not exactly," Harry said, frowning. He couldn't quite place the sensation. It was like walking through a half-forgotten dream—pieces of recognition without context. "It's more like there's a pathway hidden beneath the surface. Something older than the Hellmouth itself."
Dawn shifted uneasily. "Older than the Hellmouth? That's not exactly reassuring."
Harry stepped back from the door, his mind racing with possibilities. Whatever this connection was, it could be key to understanding the strange resonance he felt between this world's magic and his own. But he wasn't going to find all the answers today.
"We should go," Harry said finally. "I've seen enough for now."
Dawn exhaled in relief. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that."
They retraced their steps, the tension in the air slowly easing as they moved away from the seal. Dawn seemed more relaxed now, chatting about mundane school life as they walked. Harry listened, filing away the information while his thoughts remained on the Hellmouth and its hidden secrets.
When they reached the main entrance of the school, Dawn paused, looking up at him.
"So," she said, fidgeting slightly, "you're not going to, like, mess with that thing, right? Because I don't think Buffy would be thrilled if she found out I showed it to you."
Harry gave her a reassuring smile. "I won't mess with it. But thanks for trusting me."
Dawn nodded, her expression softening. "Okay. Just… be careful, alright? Sunnydale's not exactly known for being forgiving."
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "Take care of yourself too, Dawn. You've got more going on than most people realize."
Her eyes widened slightly, but she quickly masked her surprise with a smile. "Yeah, well… same to you."
With that, they parted ways. Dawn headed back toward the main building, and Harry stepped out into the cool evening air.
Scene change
The setting sun cast long shadows across the street as Harry walked away from the school grounds. He kept his pace steady, his senses sharp as he contemplated what he had just seen. The Hellmouth wasn't just a magical anomaly—it was a nexus of something far older and more dangerous. If he was going to survive in this world, he needed to learn everything he could about its history and hidden forces.
But he wasn't the only one with plans.
From across the street, Buffy Summers watched Harry from a distance, her expression tense. She had arrived at the school earlier, hoping to catch Dawn on her way out. Instead, she had seen Harry leaving the building—alone.
Her instincts screamed at her that something wasn't right. First, Dawn's mysterious rescuer had appeared out of nowhere, wielding magic and throwing around cryptic warnings. Now, he was wandering around Sunnydale High, a place no one should be investigating without a very good reason.
Buffy's jaw tightened. She didn't know who Harry really was or what he wanted, but she was going to find out.
Pulling out her phone, she quickly dialed Tara.
"Hey," Buffy said when the line connected. "Can you pick up Dawn from school? I just saw our new friend, and I'm going to follow him for a bit. Yeah. Thanks."
She ended the call and pocketed her phone, her eyes narrowing as she focused on Harry's retreating figure. Quietly, she began to follow, keeping to the shadows as she tracked him through the streets of Sunnydale.
Tonight, she was going to get some answers.
Scene change
The streets of Sunnydale grew quieter as night fell. The streetlights flickered faintly, casting long, shifting shadows that seemed to move of their own accord. Harry walked with purpose, his mind racing with thoughts of the Hellmouth and the strange sense of familiarity it had stirred. His magic buzzed faintly beneath his skin, responding to the world around him in ways he was still trying to comprehend.
He wasn't paying full attention to his surroundings, but he felt the shift before he saw it. The air grew heavier, charged with something both malicious and intoxicating. A presence—powerful and seductive—was approaching.
Harry stopped, his wand slipping into his hand. The street around him was empty, eerily silent. He turned slowly, his instincts flaring like a warning bell.
"That's far enough, handsome," a sultry voice called out from the shadows.
A tall, blonde woman stepped into the dim light, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. She was beautiful, almost unnaturally so, with golden hair that framed a face both elegant and cruel. Her eyes sparkled with an unsettling mix of amusement and malice. She moved with a predatory grace, as if she owned the very ground she walked on.
Harry frowned, his grip tightening on his wand. He didn't know who this woman was, but the raw power radiating from her was unmistakable. She wasn't human. Not entirely.
"Let me guess," Harry said dryly. "You're not here to sell me cookies."
The woman's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Wow. Witty and British. Aren't I lucky?" She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Name's Glory. Short for Glorificus. And you must be the famous Morningstar. You've got quite the reputation, you know."
Harry didn't flinch, though the name sent a ripple of unease through him. The demons had called him that before, but he still didn't fully understand why. He decided to keep his guard up, playing it cool.
"Funny. I don't remember introducing myself," Harry replied evenly. "Don't tell me I have an admirer?"
Glory laughed, a sound that echoed unnaturally in the empty street. "Oh, sweetheart, you have a few. News travels fast in these parts. Especially when someone with your kind of… vibe shows up."
Harry tilted his head slightly. "And what kind of vibe would that be?"
"Powerful. Dangerous." Glory's smile sharpened. "And possibly useful."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Useful for what?"
"Oh, you know. World domination, eternal glory, the usual," she said with a playful wave of her hand. "But I'm willing to make a deal. You see, I'm looking for something. Something very special. And I'm betting you might know where it is."
Harry remained silent, his mind racing. He didn't know what she was talking about, but he doubted it was anything good. The way she spoke—casual, almost playful—masked something much darker beneath the surface. He needed more information.
"Sorry to disappoint," Harry said. "I'm new around here. Haven't exactly had time to go treasure hunting."
Glory's expression darkened slightly, though the smile stayed in place. "Oh, don't play coy. We both know you're not just some lost tourist. You've got power, and you've got knowledge. I can feel it." She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing. "So how about you stop wasting my time and tell me what you know about the Key?"
Harry's brow furrowed. The Key? He glanced briefly toward the direction of the school, a sudden thought clicking into place. Was this connected to Dawn somehow?
"I don't know anything about a key," Harry said honestly.
Glory's smile twisted into a snarl. "Wrong answer."
Almost faster than he could react, she surged forward, her hand lashing out. Harry barely managed to raise a shield in time. The force of her attack sent him stumbling back, the magical barrier crackling as it absorbed the impact.
"Okay," Harry muttered, steadying himself. "I guess I'm definitely not getting those cookies."
Glory laughed again, this time with a wild, manic edge. "Oh, you're fun. I haven't had a decent workout in ages. Let's see what you're really made of."
Harry dodged as Glory lunged again, her movements blindingly fast. He fired a stunning spell, but it barely slowed her down. She swatted it aside as though it were a minor annoyance, her strength and resilience far beyond anything he had faced before.
His instincts screamed at him to keep moving. He ducked under her next strike, the air whistling as her fist shattered a nearby lamppost with ease. Shards of metal and glass scattered across the street.
"Impressive," Harry said, panting slightly. "But you might want to work on your aim."
Glory's eyes flashed with irritation. "Cute. You think this is a joke? You're going to tell me what I want, or I'm going to break every bone in your body."
Harry fired off another series of spells—Blasting Hexes, Confringo, even a binding charm—but Glory tore through them like paper. The magical energy barely phased her, though she seemed increasingly annoyed by his persistence.
"Alright," Harry muttered under his breath. "Time for a new strategy."
He reached deep into his magic, calling on the shadows that had obeyed him earlier. The darkness around him thickened, coiling like living tendrils. Glory paused, her gaze sharpening as she noticed the shift in the atmosphere.
"Oh, now we're getting somewhere," she purred.
Harry didn't respond. He focused on controlling the shadows, weaving them into barriers and traps. The energy thrummed around him, wild and chaotic, but it responded to his will. For now.
Glory lunged again, but this time Harry was ready. The shadows surged forward, forming a wall between them. She collided with it, her momentum halting briefly as the dark magic resisted her strength.
"Interesting trick," Glory said, pushing against the barrier. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface. "But it won't save you."
Harry clenched his jaw, reinforcing the shadows with more magic. He could feel the strain, the chaotic energy pushing back against him even as he tried to control it. This wasn't sustainable.
"I don't need to save myself," he said, forcing a smirk. "I just need to keep you busy."
Glory laughed again, but it was cut short as the shadows wrapped around her, binding her arms and legs. For a moment, she struggled against them, her expression twisting with fury.
"Do you really think this will hold me?" she snarled.
"No," Harry admitted, taking a step back. "But it bought me a few seconds."
With a final surge of power, he released the barrier and disappeared in a flash of light, Apparating to a safer distance.
Buffy watched from a nearby rooftop, her eyes wide as she took in the scene below. She had followed Harry to this part of town, curious and suspicious, but what she had witnessed was far beyond anything she had expected.
Glory—was a threat that even she had failed against. And Harry… he wasn't just some lost wizard. The way he had fought, the way the shadows had moved at his command, sent chills down her spine.
This wasn't someone she could ignore.
Buffy's jaw tightened. Whatever Harry's story was, it was more dangerous than she had realized. She needed answers. And soon.
Scene change
The Scoobies gathered in the Summers' living room, the tension thick as Buffy paced in front of them.
"We have a problem," Buffy announced, crossing her arms. "And his name is Harry."
Xander perked up, smirking. "You mean Harry as in Harry Potter? Or are we talking about some weird hair care issue? Because I'd hate to tell you this, Buff, but we have bigger fish to fry."
Willow chuckled softly, and even Tara smiled. Buffy rolled her eyes.
"Not funny," she said flatly. "I'm serious. He's bad news."
"Bad news how?" Xander asked, leaning forward. "Is he secretly working for Glory? Did he curse someone? Does he sparkle in sunlight?"
"Oh, tell me he sparkles!" Willow exclaimed.
Buffy shook her head. "No, but he's strong. Like, scary strong. I saw him leave Dawn's school today, and it just… didn't sit right. He knows more than he's letting on. He's been around Dawn a lot, and I don't like it."
Willow frowned. "But he did save her—twice now, right? Maybe he's just trying to help."
"Or maybe he's trying to get close to her for a reason," Buffy argued. "Glory's still after the Key, and now some random wizard with freaky magic powers shows up? It's too convenient."
"I don't know," Xander said, scratching his head. "If he's working for Glory, why would he save Dawn from a monster? Twice? That's not exactly evil overlord behavior."
"He could have his own agenda," Giles suggested. "It wouldn't be the first time someone with their own motives intervened in supernatural affairs."
Tara spoke softly. "Have you talked to him yet? Maybe he'd tell you what he's looking for."
Buffy shook her head. "No. Not yet. I've just… seen enough to know I don't trust him."
Xander held up a hand. "Okay, so just to recap: We have Glory, who's a literal goddess on a rampage. And now we've got a powerful maybe-wizard who may or may not be tied to all this. Did I miss anything?"
"Yeah," Willow added. "Like, what's the plan?"
Buffy sighed. "We watch him. We don't provoke him unless we have to. But if he makes a move—any move—we're ready."
The group exchanged uneasy glances.
"Let's just hope he's not planning to hex us all," Xander muttered.
"Or worse," Buffy said quietly.
Scene change
The chamber of the Oracles was shrouded in golden mist, its towering pillars glimmering with symbols too ancient for mortal understanding. The shifting air pulsed in rhythm with the Balance itself, a reminder of the authority and power wielded by the Oracles and their masters, the Powers That Be.
Helios knelt at the center of the room, his armored form cast in long, flickering shadows. Despite the weight of the task he suspected awaited him, he remained stoic. His golden, ember-like eyes burned with intensity as he waited, his broad shoulders taut.
The two Oracles stepped forward from the mist, their forms more solid than usual—an ominous sign. Their faces were featureless, but their presence radiated unrelenting power and detachment. They spoke in unison, their voices a harmonious blend that echoed throughout the chamber.
"The Morningstar walks the earth once more," they declared.
Helios felt a cold tension settle over him, though his face remained impassive. He had suspected this ever since the whispers had reached him, but to hear it confirmed now sent a chill through his veins.
"The legends should have remained just that—legends," Helios said quietly. "Yet here we are. You believe he is a threat?"
"His existence defies the Balance," the Oracles replied. "He is tied to forces that predate even our dominion, a remnant of ancient power thought severed from this world."
Helios frowned, clenching a gauntleted fist. "Then why was he summoned here? Was it by accident… or by design?"
The Oracles did not answer immediately. Their silence hung heavy, as though the answer was not one he was meant to know.
"That is irrelevant," the first Oracle finally intoned. "What matters now is containment."
"And if containment fails?" Helios prompted.
"Then you must eliminate him," the second Oracle said, their tone colder now. "By any means necessary."
The air in the chamber grew heavier, the temperature dropping. Helios inhaled deeply, steeling himself. He had faced countless enemies over the millennia—beings of immense power, creatures born from nightmares, even rogue deities. But the Morningstar… He had read the stories. The Morningstar was not like the others. He was a paradox—a being who embodied both light and shadow, destruction and renewal.
Killing such a creature would not be simple.
"If I am to do this," Helios said slowly, "I will need to understand him. His strengths. His weaknesses. What drives him."
The Oracles' forms flickered, their light dimming for a moment before returning. They seemed almost… hesitant, as if weighing how much to reveal.
"He is not yet fully awakened," they said after a pause. "The power within him is fragmented. Conflicted. He does not yet know who or what he is. Use that to your advantage."
Helios's eyes narrowed. "So, he's vulnerable."
"For now," the Oracles confirmed. "But understand this: if he regains his full power, even you may not be able to stop him."
The words echoed in Helios's mind like a distant warning bell. He rose slowly to his feet, towering over the ethereal forms of the Oracles. His mind was already turning over strategies, possibilities, and risks.
"Where is he now?" he asked.
"In the place where the earth itself fractures beneath the strain of chaos," the Oracles said. "A convergence of darkness and power. You know it as the Hellmouth."
Helios's jaw tightened. Of course. He had sensed the growing instability in that part of the world. Sunnydale. A place where reality itself was thin and easily torn apart. It was the perfect place for a being like the Morningstar to surface.
"You will watch him," the Oracles continued. "You will judge his actions. If he proves a threat to the Balance, you will act without hesitation."
"And if he is not a threat?" Helios asked, though he already knew the answer.
The Oracles' light dimmed again, their presence growing colder. "He will be. It is only a matter of time."
Helios inclined his head, accepting the mission. He had never failed a task set by the Powers That Be, and he would not start now. Still, a gnawing feeling of doubt lingered in the back of his mind. The Morningstar was no ordinary enemy.
But neither was Helios.
"I will not fail," Helios vowed, his voice low but resolute.
"See that you don't," the Oracles replied in unison. "The fate of the Balance depends on it."
The chamber began to dissolve around him, the golden mist dissipating like a dying breath. Helios stood alone, the weight of his mission pressing down on him like a mantle of lead.
Without another word, he turned and strode toward the portal that would take him to Sunnydale.
Scene Change
The shadows of Sunnydale lengthened as Helios stepped through the unseen boundary separating the mundane world from the supernatural. The atmosphere here was charged—raw and chaotic. It clawed at his senses, a dissonance that spoke to the power buried beneath the surface.
The Hellmouth. A wound in the fabric of existence itself.
Helios clenched his fists, his magic stirring uneasily in response to the chaotic energy surrounding him. Somewhere in this town, the Morningstar walked among mortals, unaware of the storm brewing around him.
But not for long.
Helios's eyes burned like molten gold as he stepped forward, his presence a silent promise of confrontation to come.
The hunt had begun.
A/N: This should get us back on schedule for the release days.
wiam-s: I didn't think them jumping to that conclusion would have been natural. But they know now.
TwinstarDragon: That is an interesting way of deciding that. I don't think I even considered the connection. But yeah, for now the pairing is (HarryxDawn). That is also the pairing from the story "Fallen" which inspired this one. This story is still being written so who knows where it might end up.
And thanks to everyone that had Favorited and Followed this story. I love checking to see how many people have followed this story.