|Harry Dursley and The Chronicles of the King
Author: Shadenight123 PM
Nothing is as it seems on the path to power. Bodies and conspiracies litter the road as daggers shine in the air. Treacheries centuries old leave the place to decade long plans that are just now coming to fruition, and Harry Dursley questions himself through a journey that shall lead him to drastically change his perception of the world. It's all a matter of perspective, after all.Rated: Fiction M - English - Adventure/Mystery - Harry P. & Founders - Chapters: 92 - Words: 490,941 - Reviews: 867 - Favs: 359 - Follows: 389 - Updated: 05-12-13 - Published: 12-06-12 - id: 8770795
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Heinrich Grindelwald and the Tide of Darkness
The rolling of the ship woke him up slowly. His half-lidded with sleep eyes opened to the sight of the sun rising over the horizon. He could hear the deep rumbles of the belly of the steel beast as if he was it and she was him. He slowly stood up and walked to the helm of the ship, placing both of his hands on the wooden handles firmly.
The sea glittered as if it was made of diamonds, but when the wail like sound of a Dementor caught his ears, he immediately tensed. The beast remained outside of the window, its screeching voice like that of a nail against a chalkboard.
"We feel them! Forward towards the dawn!" The Dementor's screech was soon followed by the wails of the Inferis' souls and his other brethren, who seemed excited at the idea of fighting. Harry shivered as he felt those emotions wash over him. The bloodlust, the hunger, the desire to fight and rend all came from his troops, and yet he felt them all.
And to the call of his men, he answered with acknowledgement. He grasped the binoculars from the nearby counter, where the electronics of the ship simply stood silent and not working. Magic worked through the ship in place of electricity, magic born of blood and powered through pain and sufferance. The prisoners of Azkaban had to go somewhere, after all. They were all culprits, and if they weren't then the fault was of the ministry to begin with.
He had gone to Azkaban to call the Dementors to his side, and there he had discovered that Gellert had already been a step beyond him. The two warships were practically unscathed as if they had just finished being built. They stood docked within the bowels of the prison deep in the North Sea, unperturbed by the Dementors who merely flew around them with boredom. The aurors had left the prison months before, scared senseless by the Dementors' newly found lack of boundaries.
The prisoners had been kept alive by the creatures themselves, since they did need food after all. Now, as his sight caught the first gleams of ships at the horizon, he frowned. He knew nothing of the range of the Bismarck class ship, but Gellert's notes did say it had a maximum range on 'light artillery shells' of fifty-five point seven kilometres.
If only he knew how to calculate the distance, or if only there was some sort of holographic aiming utility that turned red when he had them in range, then he'd be far less anxious than he was at the moment. Of course he knew the basics, but the basics had him on a Kharvi with two small cannons. He hadn't been told what to do if he ended up on a Bismarck-class warship with enough firepower to tear down London.
'Fire when in range' seemed an apt command, but he didn't want to risk giving away his position early, especially if he hadn't been seen yet. He was closing in on them though. The speed of the ship wasn't powered by its engines, but by the intent behind the engines' will. Even objects had wills apparently, and the German's boilers and turbines seemed keen on going forward as hard and fast as they could.
He waited as he could hear the various guns of the Bismarck moving into the direction for fire. He squint his eyes as he looked at the flag standing on top of the enemy ship, and with a bated breath he yelled out loud.
"Abort!" He roared, "Abort fire! They're friendlies!" The guns slowly lowered themselves as the ships sailed forward to meet the other ones. He had apparently caught up with the French Navy, who was engaging with what few ships remained to her an audacious pursuit of the Durmstrang ship. The radio suddenly buzzed to life, as if someone was trying to communicate with the ship itself. He opened the channel just as he watched both Lillian and Hermione slowly stand back on their feet, crankily wincing from having slept on the cold floor of the ship's deck.
"Ici est Courbet-classe France de la marine militaire Française...Identifier vous!"
"Here is Bismarck and Tirpitz, Bismarck-class vessels of the Hogwarts' navy." Harry replied calmly. "Something tells me you need help."
"English? Zat iz impozible! Zey are…"
"Pass him to me." Nicholas Flamel's voice reached through the radio. "Harry? What are you doing?"
"Funny you ask." Harry retorted calmly. "I'm doing what I'm meant to do." He chuckled. "Now, before we begin however, there is something I would like you to translate to the Frenchies and to British around you." He added slowly, "Can you do that?"
"All right. Wait a minute…done. Your voice is now on the English, French and Irish ships around the St. George Channel. I'll translate for the French."
Harry took a deep breath, as he looked at his reflection in the mirror giving him the acknowledging nod and a thumb up. It seemed so strange to have the darker side of him actually approve of his message…maybe because underhanded?
"Greetings." He intoned as his reflection rolled his eyes.
Greetings? You have to start a strong soul shivering speech with Greetings? What are you, the evil guy of James Bond?
He ignored King, as he kept on talking.
"My name is Harry Dursley." He offhandedly commented, "And at the moment, I am in charge of the Bismarck Class ships Bismarck and Tirpitz. Considering this ships came out in the second world wide war, I say they are more advanced then whatever sort of wooden rafts you managed to stick together to fight off Durmstrang and the other ships. So here's the problem: I'm actually to be kissed on sight by the British Ministry, but look there, the Dementors obey me and not them. So…where does that leave us? Oh yes. I've got the gun, you've got nothing." He scathingly hissed.
"Still, I'm not a second Voldemort. I'm not a bad guy. I'm here to save the day and save you all, even though a lot of you just don't deserve it." He said clearly, "So here's my offer: full pardon from the English ministry and asylum in France and Ireland to be granted to me, Lillian Potter, Hermione Granger and Rubeus Hagrid no matter when, and you get your victory. You refuse and well, Salazar can have England and then the rest of the world for all I care."
There was silence through the radio. Harry actually felt uncomfortable at the feeling of both Lillian's and Hermione's gaze on him. After a few more minutes of unsettling silence, a voice spoke with a slightly shaky tone through the radio.
"Th-This is Cornelius Fudge, prime minister for Wizardry Britain." Harry held his breath, as he could hear both Lillian and Hermione do the same. "I would…I would like to make it known that…" There was a highly screeched 'Cornelius! You can't do it!' that was soon muted, "I offer full pardon to Harry Dursley, Lillian Potter, Hermione Granger and Rubeus Hagrid."
Silence descended once more over the radio, as he exhaled the deep breath he had in the back of his throat.
"Very well." He replied at the radio. "The Bismarck and the Tirpitz are moving forward at maximum speed. We'll be entering St. George Channel soon enough. Where is Durmstrang?"
"Last sightings had their ships next to Wales." Nicholas replied quickly. "Do you know what you're doing, Harry?"
"Of course." He closed the radio signal, "Not." Harry chuckled, "But I'm whinging it as I go."
"Harry?" Lillian asked him in worry, "What are we going to do?" The girl was hesitantly looking at Hermione as she said that, probably thinking that he had some sort of grand plan in mind to defeat Salazar and his army of wraiths and ghosts. The truth was that he hadn't a plan. He truly was going head on against someone who was centuries older and more powerful than him.
"Take Sophie and go back to Beauxbatons if things turn sour." He replied calmly, as his eyes saw the few remaining French ships coming closer. He turned on the radio once more and barked out.
"We'll be taking the forward position. We'll engage the enemy on sight and hold him there for as long as we can. Stay behind our broadside when we engage them. Our wards should hold." And if they didn't, then he just hoped that the prophecy would give him a final push in the right direction.
"Now listen here youngster…" An old and cranky English voice commented, "You should let us take control of those ships you know? You don't know what you're doing, and…"
"While I would be sincerely amused by your thoughts," he replied smoothly, "I do not have the time to stay and tell you that the only one who can use these ships is me. You are welcomed to try though, but I'm not going to slow down. Stay behind and follow with what you can."
"Mot…" Harry rolled his eyes as he closed the radio once more.
Enjoying the feeling of power? His reflection asked of him from the window, as it slowly began to move to where the reflection of Hermione was. Enjoy seeing your followers blindly coming with you?
He wanted to retort that nobody was actually following him blindly, but the strange awe-like stare of Hermione towards the back of his head made him wary. He had been acting like a sort of hero lately, one proper and prim and dressed in shiny armour. He had to battle a dragon to end the problem once and for all actually, and be claimed a true prince of a kid's story.
He was lost in thoughts, when his sister's voice interrupted the silence of the helm cabin once more.
"Harry?" She asked hesitantly, "I want to fight with you."
"No." He curtly replied. He looked at her with curiosity, considering she recoiled back as if he had backhanded her. What was there to understand? He was the chosen of a prophecy, so he was somehow safe…but he couldn't risk his sister. He actually found himself blushing at the cheesy thought. Him, protecting his sister? He mentally snorted at the idiocy of such a statement. He was just doing it out of loyalty, because the girl hadn't believed a single word of anyone else and had instead trusted in him.
Yes, it was because of that, and not some ill-found brotherly affection. The sky began to darken as the anxious silence stretched for what seemed like hours, until a thunder clap echoed in the distance. A storm was probably converging on the spot, and once more Harry's nightmare made him wince and grit his teeth.
"I'm coming." Hermione stated harshly. "I have to repay you, Harry. Please, you can't do this alone." The girl looked at him too with a mixture of anxiousness and worry, and yet he felt unaffected by it. It wasn't their prophecy, and it wasn't their job to help him. Did Kings not ride alone after all?
"You might die." He hissed back, his eyes locking on Sophie who seemed contently listening in but not moving. "And then what will your pardon be good for?"
"My parents have been obliviated." Hermione replied immediately, "The students at Hogwarts were all too glad to be rid of me, and those in Durmstrang nearly tried to kill me! I have nothing left anywhere! Where you'll go, I'll follow. So please," she began to cry, "let me come with you."
"I'm coming too." Lillian replied, "I…I'm not a weakling brother," she added with haste. "I trained hard, you know? I'm good! I can…"
"Can you kill?" He finally relented, narrowing his eyes on the two girls. They both winced as their face morphed into horrified expressions. "Can you?" He added. When silence was his only reply, he snorted. "I thought so." He turned back to stare at the dark clouds that were now passing over their heads, and as he looked through the binoculars once more, he bit his lip.
There it was. The three iceberg chained Durmstrang, the rear of the fleet of Salazar. Where there still students aboard? And would they be innocent or not? He had to choose, and do it fast as he saw the giant ensemble of ice and ancient wards start to slow down. As a rear guard the complex wasn't a bad decision. It could easily crash into and destroy even the stoutest of ships, especially the old models that the wizards used.
His hands moved to the helm and he took a deep breath.
He turned on the radio on the open channel. He coughed once.
"May I have your attention please? Divert your course. We are passing through."
"Insufferable insects! The great Salazar will not be interrupted during his march of glory!" The reply came with a shocked gasp from Hermione, who recognized the voice as the Infiltration into Muggle Society professor.
"Are there students aboard the institute, madam?" He asked quietly.
"Ah! Indeed! All have understood and will themselves to be of service to the master of snakes! Who are you? You have not presented yourself!"
Harry simply closed off the radio and raised his right hand up.
"Harry?" Lillian asked as she saw him grab the microphone and push a button to begin the alert for battle. The sirens blared through the ship, soon echoed by the Tirpitz own noises. In the cacophony that followed the Inferis' boots clacked on the steel decks moving to position. The turrets turned to attention towards the incoming mass.
"This is why you can't come. Lillian and Hermione…watch and learn." He snarled as his right hand moved forward.
"All hands to battle stations! FRONTAL ARTILLERY, FIRE!"
The blaring noise of the turrets firing echoed through the ships' frames as the chambers were emptied and reloaded by the Inferis. The bullets of lead and fire flew in the air, their deadly package impacting against the strong wards of the Durmstrang complex as it moved nearer.
"Deliver the broadside!" Harry roared as he spun the helm to the right and slowed down the motors, so as to give the Tirpitz full side view of the school itself. Shots from the anti-air guns soon barrelled against the wards with the cacophony of explosions coming from the bigger turrets. A shower of lead, iron and fire mixed with the magic permeating the turrets of the two German ships. Harry gritted his teeth as he cast a quick eye at the two girls, who were holding their hands around their ears in an effort to keep the noise at bay.
"Main Battery! Fire!" The Anton, Bruno, Casar and Dora cannons fired their heavy payload directly against the wards of the Durmstrang complex. They had the widest range of the entire 'fleet' behind them and as the ship trembled under the shakes from having fired the shots Harry gritted his teeth. The turrets could fire two shots and a half per minute. It meant five shots every two minutes. Normally, one was enough to level an enemy ship, but considering the wards of Durmstrang, he suspected they'd end up needing a Zhertvy ritual…
He blinked as he remembered something important: the ritual of the Zhertvy had been interrupted by Salazar. So unless the man had put it back…the wards were weaker than usual and were probably concentrated only on the above area like a sort of semi-sphere. There wasn't normally a need to guard the downside of a ship in a naval battle…
But that was decades before the Germans installed on the Tirpitz a torpedo launcher.
"Tirpitz! Bismarck! Recharge and hold fire!" He yelled as he flicked the radio open once more.
"This is a warning I will give only once." He spoke clearly, "Surrender."
"Surrender? Nein! You will not…"
He flicked off the radio and sighed.
"I gave them a chance."
"Harry…no!" Lillian yelled as she dashed forward, trying to grab her brother's arm. "There could be students there!"
He jumped back to avoid his sister's charge at him, but in doing so he ended up having to drop the helm which began to spun wildly.
"Hermione hold the helm!" He yelled as he grabbed a hold of his sister's arms and tried to push her off him. The ship began to turn wildly, as the waves that crashed against its sides sent her to divert her course. He winced as he rolled on the side, pushing the girl against the wall. "What is wrong with you!?" He yelled at her.
"You can't do this!" She yelled back. "What about the innocents!?"
"You heard the woman!" He retorted, "And there's no choice!" He swiped his right hand back and forward, his gaze settled on the Tirpitz.
"Tirpitz! Torpedo Launchers! FIR..urgh!" Lillian had tackled him on the ground, as a thunderbolt detonated near them, blinding the surroundings.
Let me stop her! King bellowed in his throbbing ears as blood rushed to his head. How could the girl not understand!? There wasn't another choice and they were going to die if she kept this up!
"GET OFF ME!" He roared as with inhuman force he lifted his sister and flung her away. Her body hit against the metallic counter that once had probably been used for telegram operations.
He huffed from the effort, as he took ragged breaths before placing his hands back at the helm. A scared Hermione dropped the wooden wheel as if it was a snake ready to bite at her, before running to check on Lillian. He nearly retched. The girl had decked him in the stomach and the sides too: she truly packed a punch. He had to mentally refrain from cursing his good will. He didn't have the time to mentally berate what he had done, because he finally had to give the order out.
"Tirpitz...Fire the torpedoes."
His body gasped with relief as a weight lifted from his shoulder at the feeling of completion his order had done. He felt the torpedoes fly beneath the water, even though he had no visual on them, and as he sensed them nearing, he raised his right hand once more. Rain was pouring down from the sky as he looked at the titanic construction that Durmstrang was and its giant icebergs coming dangerously closer to them. He saw its massive bulk and its seemingly unscathed wards flicker briefly against the downpour of rain and the thunders. He took a deep breath to calm himself once more, before closing his eyes and bringing his right arm forward.
"TIRPITZ, BISMARCK! FULL BROADSIDE DELIVERY! FIRE!"
And then, he turned on the radio once more.
"Pathetic attempt! You will not…what is…" An explosion rocked the closest iceberg of Durmstrang as cracks seeped through the giant ice cube, tearing apart heavy chunks of ice as the wards flickered like dying shields. The volley of shots that could level a city came next, and the wards died down just as the mighty main battery of the Tirpitz and the Bismarck fired again, tearing apart giant chunks of both ice and stone and sending it crashing down into the sea.
"I don't know if you can hear me," he spoke to the radio, "But you just lost your wards." He added as this time he moved his left hand in a circle above him, before pointing at the complex. "Surrender: this is your last chance."
No reply but static came back, and Harry closed his eyes firmly before nodding to himself.
"As you wish." He placed the radio microphone back in place, before looking at the Dementors stationed outside the Helm's cabin.
"CAPTURE THE COMPLEX! KILL THOSE WHO OPPOSE MY WILL!"He wailed in their tongue as the Dementors shrieked back their acknowledgement of the order. With the wards down, and the complex actually slowing down to a near halt, the flying monsters of nightmares assaulted the structure like a massive blanket of deathly fog.
Harry looked at the Dementors flying through the night air, while mentally he was actually recalling the Wagner's Valkyries charge. He grinned slightly as he increased once more the speed of the engines…or well, of the magic that made the engines work.
It was then that a sharp cry came from behind him, and as he turned around in worry he stared with shock and fright at Sophie's feathers burning ever so slightly. The phoenix had just died a bit more, and he felt horrible. He gritted his teeth as he turned to stare once more at the sea.
"I told you to leave me, Sophie." He hissed, closing his eyes and desperately trying to keep out of his head the cries of the phoenix. "There's Lillian over there who'd be a better owner than me." He murmured. "I'm not worthy of the light, Sophie."
His place was in the darkness, after all. It was then that his eyes settled on the rest of the fleet of Salazar…that was turning back? Why would they…the first volley of shots from a few enemy ships hit blank, raising torrential levels of water all around the Bismarck as the Tirpitz answered the fire with her own main battery. Ghosts and wraiths flew in the air like flocks of birds, and as they neared the anti-air batteries of both ships answered with barrages of bullets.
The question remained at the front of his head however…how?
Blackbeard had disappeared the moment the wards of Durmstrang had lost their power. Salazar was many things, but a fool he was not. Blackbeard wasn't just a ghost: he was the guardian of the cornerstone's wards. He had placed him there a long time before to ensure nothing would tamper with them, just like he had done to Hogwarts with Peeves. He gritted his teeth as he now looked in front of him at the two giant steel coffins that seemed to be strangely resistant to getting hit.
"Bismarck and Tirpitz." He muttered, using magic to see their names on their flanks. Next to them in the background stood the half-sunken Durmstrang complex, one of its three icebergs slowly dropping below the level of the sea.
The Tirpitz was the closer to them, and thus flicking his wand Salazar gestured to the Inferi that followed his command.
"Take down that ship." He snarled as he called down from the storm itself a volley of thunder bolts. The electricity crackled as it follow the conduit that magic had created for it, but while the thunders did incinerate the few unlucky Inferi in the proximity, the ship's steel frame apparently refused to be broken or torn apart.
He raised an eyebrow in surprise. He flicked his wand again, as a tidal wave suddenly enlarged itself in size as it became their opening move. He wondered how the steel boats would fare against such a thing, considering they'd need far more powerful mages to open a passage through…
They fired. The noise and the shells hitting forward, coupled with strange underwater explosions tore apart the wave before it could reach a big enough height. The fact that the shells exploded within the water made him narrow his eyes. That wasn't a normal behaviour. Cannon balls didn't explode midway. Was it something that had happened after his near disappearance and risky resurrection?
A frown marred his lips as he saw the Proteus' barrage end up in the water, just like the Juno and the Insurgent own shots missed in the dark and bubbling water that was now surrounding them. He understood there and then what was going on. He couldn't help but slightly smirk at the sheer coincidence of what this entailed.
The wards that fed on a soul's pain were something he had created a long time before, to power the wards around Hogwarts by tying criminals' souls to them. Little by little he had delivered said secrets to Nurmengard, and while Beauxbatons had refused him, they still had kept his missives too. The problem was when two similar wards ended up coming into contact. It normally was not possible for it to happen, since wards were after all meant to be stationary, but when it did…the two wards, no matter which was stronger or which was weaker, tended to try and merge together.
The bubbling and the rising of the waves' height around them was a subtle signal he had missed. He hadn't been able to wound the enemy ships because by the very same wards he had built those ships were actually his, and viceversa. This was a battle that could not be won with only magic. He'd have to take the initiative himself.
"Have the Durmstrang fire." He ordered quietly to a nearby ghost, an old Viking who grumbled an affirmative reply before flying off, to where the giant ship of Durmstrang stood. The giant head of the mast opened its mouth like a bellowing dragon, a cannon's hole showing itself from within it.
As the rain fell down more strongly than ever, and the enemy ships prepared for another volley, he smirked.
He swept his wand across the wards surrounding 'his' ships. The moment he brought them all down…
Both sides fired.
His left hand shot forward as he banished from in front of him the incoming projectiles that exploded upon the contact with the invisible repelling surface and flung the shrapnel within backwards. Yet instead of going back in a cone shaped explosion they simply diverted to the sides, tearing chunks of wood away from the Proteus and the Juno. There was more than a mere difference in technology between the ships, there was something else directing the shots and…
He closed his eyes and concentrated. He brought up his wand and began to make slow circular motions as more and more shots burst forward from both sides. He heard the tell-tale signs of a ship exploding, soon followed by the creaking sounds of a mast falling down from the effort to battle the winds. He spun his wand again and again, and he could feel the direction of the Queen's Anne Revenge change abruptly, as the water became a maelstrom.
He heard the wood creak together with the noise of the thunder crashing down near them. In the ghastly scenery of when he opened his eyes again, he stared with an angry glare at the figure that stood hidden and out of side flying near them. He looked at her with a fury that held no other desire but to destroy her, and with an unholy screech of anger and hatred he plunged all of his power into the most powerful spell he had ever known.
"Interneco!" His wand nearly burst apart as a purplish ray flew forward from its tip and against the figure flying in mid-air. Halfway through, the ray was met with another, and the two ended up locked in a contest of wills. In that moment, the Bismarck fired from its main battery once more. The shots hit the deck of the Queen's Anne Revenge and exploded, tearing the ship apart in two as the shrapnel burned the Inferi and butchered them.
Salazar disappeared before other shells could hit him, reappearing atop the Durmstrang's helm deck with an angry glare at where the Queen's Anne Revenge was now sinking. The ship itself wasn't the best of the fleet: too slow and with only few powerful armaments to speak of. Unluckily having the great idea of using it for 'seamanship' practice had made it weaker. Even when armed, it was a miracle by itself that the ship hadn't been torn apart in the weather.
He brought up the invisibility cloak to cover himself, as he wickedly smiled and flew in the air few instants later. His wand spun around him, as a maelstrom appeared within the water, forcing the heavier ships to spin around and the nimbler ones to deftly circle it. He increased its size, staring with not even a hint of worry at the sinking of what few ships his fleet had that were of no importance to him. The Durmstrang's main cannon however, that was a different thing.
He didn't even tell the ship to steer. She would do her job one last time by taking down the enemy's commanding ship. The dragon's maw of the ship charged its deadly shot of bridled magic and power, and as the carved dragon itself screamed the cannon ball sped through the air with a speed that made it difficult to even follow.
In that precise moment, the Tripitz ship, that had been spinning wildly trying to control herself, ended up in the line of fire. The ball hit the steel warship, not only tearing through its thick armour as if it was paper, but also crumbling a good chunk of it down as it decayed. It was as if centuries of rust had suddenly piled up on the ship that began to dismember into smaller parts of rusted steel components as it crumbled in the maelstrom of water.
Salazar couldn't help but laugh.
The mighty ships had been repaired because of transfigured objects! The cannon ball shot from the mouth of the Durmstrang ship wasn't a mere cannon ball. It was laced with powerful magic that held but one purpose: to kill magic. It did not drain magic. It did not absorb magic. It killed her. It literally tore it apart from existence wherever it hit. It was the foulest type of dark curse ever to be built…and he had been there to watch the cannon mounted.
A wizard would die or without doubt become a muggle, leaving behind only muggles even if he married a pureblood. A ward would be broken and destroyed. A transfigured object would return to its base form…and remain like that, no matter what spells would be placed to reconfigure it back or to hold it like that. There was nothing to be done to something that had been 'killed' of its magic.
The Tirpitz sunk beneath the maelstrom, as the Bismarck instead appeared to be aiming at the Durmstrang ship with her rear battery.
Salazar frowned slightly, before bringing his right wand forward and shooting a simple curse, really, against the ship.
The next moment, the shells that should have been exploded from within the chambers of fire of the rear battery detonated instead. The sudden halt in power to the engines brought the ship to a standstill against the maelstrom's current that began to bring the ship down.
Just as he watched the ship beginning to sink down, he turned ready to fly towards the Durmstrang complex and claim it back for his later use. The Durmstrang ship exploded into smithereens as he gave his back to it, the main battery of the Bismarck giving the ship one last shot as it began to sink down to its depths.
"Trudo!" A voice yelled behind him, that he countered with ease through the use of his own wand silently.
He turned around to stare at the boy, the boy that he had once claimed as his successor and that stood flying lifted by a phoenix.
"Really?" Salazar found himself asking. "How…" He looked at the water hitting around the cloak he was wearing. "Of course." He muttered.
The boy looked at him with cold, calculating eyes. He smelt the fear radiating from him, but deeply hidden within a mask of calm.
"Afraid?" He asked with a chuckle. "I find it stupid that you dare come again in front of me," He commented as the thunder struck in the distance. "I spared you once. I will not do so again."
"I am not afraid." The brat replied, holding his wand that sparked crimson tightly as if it was his anchor of safety.
"Maybe you aren't, but that would only make you a fool." Salazar snorted, as he shot a powerful wave of curses towards the brat. "What do you think you're doing, brat? Fulfilling a prophecy? You're not worthy of the secrets of the sunken city!"
The brat's phoenix dodged, flying in the storm with speed as it sang the horrendous screeching noise that he so much abhorred.
He flew behind the brat, spewing vile curses at his back as he laughed.
"You think you can stop me!?" The figure laughed. "Hogwarts was but an extra stop. Ys is mine already child! And nobody was around when I claimed it the first time!"
He could feel it, the boy tensing as the phoenix flapped its wings around. He knew where the bird was going to land, and with a quick wand motion…
He shot a silent curse behind him.
The shocked face of Nicholas Flamel came into view, the invisibility spell dropped from him as a curse brought out crimson blood from his chest.
"My…how long." He nearly cooed with disdain as he felt the boy move further away from him.
"The years have not treated you well." He quietly added, anger and hatred filling his eyes.
"Salazar…" The man coughed as his own wand was brought to his chest, to stop the bleeding.
"Do not be so familiar with me!" He hissed back with rage. "Betrayals after betrayals…Now no more! Are you scared? Scared I will reach Hogwarts before you? You never managed to win cleanly against me after all. Always had to lie. Always had to deceive. I was cunning, ambitious and powerful…you were and are nothing more than a betrayer!"
"Explain? What?" The head of Slytherin chuckled. "There is nothing to explain. My heir marches into Hogwarts by now. He will claim back my laboratory. He will wait for me and once my hands will be on the Philosopher's stone made till now, nothing will stop me!"
"Oh…I see now." The man snickered. "You lost your own, did you not?" He laughed. "What little you had is finishing. You want more."
Nicholas Flamel said nothing, he merely sighed as from behind his back he took out the sorting hat. His right hand entered it, and from within it a sword glistened out.
"I did not want for this to come to pass." The old man spoke with a far deeper voice. "But you leave me no choice, old friend."
Beneath the thick descending rain, as thunders roared and screams of dying souls echoed in the background of the deep dark water that lurched around the breaking apart ships, two men looked at one another with narrowed glares.
"As always, you try and fight me disarmed. Are you afraid? Afraid of Iniura?" Salazar mocked him as he transfigured the rain into a deadly ice sword.
"Come then." Salazar chuckled holding the ice sword.
"Come and meet your end for the last time…" He intoned, "Godric Gryffindor."
Chapter gone by again. I thought I would delve into what's going on at Hogwarts, but I always come back to Harry and Salazar.
As it was pointed out, the Tirpitz and the Bismarck are both sunk, but the Tirpitz was actually dismembered into pieces. The simple answer is that: The Reparo spell of the wizards repairs everything.
Now, before claiming 'what the hell'…read the wiki.
This charm was invented by Orabella Nuttley, an employee of the Improper Use of Magic Office in the British Ministry of Magic, in or before 1754. She used her charm to repair the Colosseum after it had been accidentally destroyed.
The damn bastards of the British wizards destroyed the Italian colosseum and repaired it.
Except for the fact that I'm claiming a blood feud on the brits, it just shows how 'overly simple yet powerful' their spells are. Reparo 'repairs' It doesn't matter how little remains, what matters is that it can be repaired if only fragments stay. (Which led me to use it with transfigured objects to 'repair' the Tirpitz)
I am actually shocked. They tore down the colosseum.
Yet they also managed to hide it from all the muggles…I imagine how hard it had to be.