Episode 12. Part 14

Episode 12. Part 14

***

They fought as equals. It was a battle of great wizards, when the entire space was filled with the rarest and strongest deadly spells. The entire atrium was filled with either fire or water from a fountain or magically created water. Shards of glass or crumbs of stone flew everywhere. Lions, snakes, and dragons sprang from one's wand, while the other's hands dispelled them as if they were not supreme spells intended to destroy the enemy, but mere illusions. Sometimes the hands of one turned the spells of the other against his own. Stones would melt, water would hiss and vaporize, and ice would fly like spears, and shields would flash, cracking and shattering beyond the power of their spells. The statue in the atrium had long since been destroyed, after Dumbledore had tried to revive it and turn it against Harold, but the latter, with his good imagination, responded by creating an army of stone golems of fireplaces, somewhat angular, but effective.

Dumbledore did not understand how Potter knew the spells of higher magic, and how he performed them without using words or his wand. But Harold didn't know them either, couldn't have known them. How would he? He simply knew, as a child, what he wished for and used his imagination. Magic itself created for him. Albus, however, was frightened: he realized that he simply did not know enough spells to do them on an equal footing with Potter. And if he were to be deprived of his wand, he would have no choice but to flee in shame.

It was a good thing there were no one left in the atrium who could have been harmed by magic.

The fireplaces blared: it was morning, and the Ministry workers were on their way to work. Hmm, earlier than usual?!

But it was Fudge, followed by the Lords of Magic, officials, journalists...

And Dumbledore realized he had lost when he saw among the feignedly stunned Lords, the Eaters: Malfoy, Nott, Krebb, Goyle, Rosier and another guy with a familiar face. It took a few seconds to realize that he looked exactly like Thomas Riddle, the muggle aristocrat Lord Voldemort's father. Albus had enough intelligence to realize who the man was. To his surprise, he noticed his faithful servant Severus Snape among the Lords. This came as a shock to him. And a stunned Minerva looked on with such reproach. And Flitwick, and... Yes, it all became clear: this was a carefully prepared trap for himself. Prepared by Voldemort and Potter and Fudge. And he was even more furious, and in his rage, not admitting defeat, he covered the stone floor with water and a thick crust of ice. A simple "Stupefy," and the hero bloody Potter slipped in an attempt to dodge. And Albus took his chance: Avada Kedavra!

A lightning bolt of green struck Potter squarely in the shoulder. His eyes, the same color as the death spell, glazed over instantly. And Harold fell to the slippery floor with the thud of a dead body. There was a deafening silence in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Dumbledore knew that even so - he had lost, and still felt triumph, felt avenged. Glass and stone crumbs crunched under his feet as he slowly, just in case, keeping the dead hero in his sights, approached the defeated enemy and sweetly, maneuveringly stretching his words, uttered:

- No matter what you say, Potter, you won't survive this spell a second time. - He wished he could step on the chest of the Boy Who's Now Dead in front of everyone. But in the absolute silence, abruptly and unexpectedly, making everyone shudder, there was a thunderous clap, amplified many times by the echo. Dumbledore felt a pain in his chest and stared in astonishment at the blood-red stain, which smelled like iron, rapidly spreading out all over his robes. He retreated a few steps in surprise and looked up to meet the icy eyes of Dudley Dursle, standing at the shoulder of his defeated cousin. In his hands was a Muggle thing that Albus had only seen in pictures in Muggle magazines. The thing was called a pi stolet.

- You! - he exclaimed in exasperation.

- Surprised? - Dudley grinned coolly, keeping his eyes on his enemy and his pistol. I trained in the Forbidden Forest in Centaur territory for nothing! - For the record, I never doubted my brother. The only reason I haven't spoken to him this year is because I want to keep an eye on Neville and know your plans, old man. And I would never betray Harold, just as he would never betray me," Dursle exhaled. And as if hearing these words, or responding to them, Harold shuddered and wriggled as if in terrible pain. His mouth opened in a mute cry, but no sound came out. Instead, his body lit up with bright green fire, the same as his eyes, the same as the beam of an unforgivable death spell.

Harold continued to wriggle until the fire changed color and became a ball of fire around the hovering hero. The ball soon exploded with a deafening sound, blasting into the atrium what had not yet been destroyed. It occurred to some of those present how the Potter mansion in Godric's Hollow had been destroyed, if everyone in the house was dead by his moment, except the one-year-old infant who had been struck by the deadly curse.

- And he promised he wouldn't leave me," Dudley continued with a chuckle, then turned to his cousin, "Sorry, little brother, I stole your gun. You completely forgot you had one. You're an initiate, and you've had the pistol all these years in that leaky bag we escaped from Surrey County with.

- Figaro doesn't suit me, unlike you, you know," Harold hissed, also grinning, but relieved. - I have no idea why those bastards gave me that nickname," he sat up slowly, and grinned, looking into the eyes of a frankly frightened Dumbledore. - So how does it feel to shoot people, brother?

- Ask yourself that question. I'll never believe you've never done it," Dudley snorted, giving his brother a hand, but keeping his target in his sights.

- You wouldn't believe it, but I'm an expert on knuckles and knives and magic. And though I can shoot, you can keep that thing," Harold got to his feet with a grunt from his brother. There was no magic left in him. Not a drop. All gone to protect him from Avada, or to bring him back to life. He didn't know that yet. But he was glad that when he studied the goblin book, he began with the "will to live" section. And he suspected that his magical reserve would take several years to regenerate. He was almost defenseless now, and so he easily let his cousin cover him. Still, he drew his dagger and knuckles from the waistband of his pants, getting into a fighting stance. Sure, his muscles pulled as if they were being squeezed, but out of pride he could stand and fight if he weren't a Potter!

- I'll order mine," Dudley shook his head, and grinned again, adding, "Or steal one. It feels... It feels good. I stashed a gun in my pocket a long time ago, so I could shoot an old bearded philanthropist who came to my parents' house an hour before the fire killed them. I remember that he talked to my parents about you, and I don't consider it an accident. But the urge to shoot is fulfilled, why else would I need your gun?

- Just to shoot? - With an ironic arch of an eyebrow, Harry interrogated.

- I'm not a murderer! - Dursle was indignant, but a little too pretentiously. - But I think I'll tell you to run away this time. Except we'll take Neville with us.

- Escape?! - Potter interjected in exasperation. But his cousin wasn't joking at all and then he exhaled: - W-We're finally working! - After thinking for a while, he put the knuckles back, but summoned the secret phrase "Godric, give me strength" with the sword of Gryffindor, which, if necessary, could also be used to ward off spells.

Dumbledore came to his senses and the battle broke out with renewed vigor, only now there were three of them. And Albus was not stingy with the Avads. And the nature of the battle itself had changed, for there was no longer Potter's power, and Dudley lacked it. The Great Wizard was quick to point out that the Boy Who Survived Again had lost his magic, so he stepped up the pressure. Dudley didn't have the strength to defend him, and Harry, unused to the sword, had no time to swing it. The cousins mostly had to defend themselves... Until backup arrived: "Fred, George, Theo, Blaze, what the hell are you doing here?!

- And we, Potter, thought we had nothing to hide," replied the Pied Piper ventures, sending the first spells at Dumbledore. - And yes, Dud, we're glad you're still with us.

Albus laughed, but in vain. Trained by the African aborigine and Harold, the Pied Pipers were no strangers to magic, and they had no need for wands, either, while the bearded hypocrite was tired.

It ended swiftly. At one point, the cousins, Nott Jr. and Blaze combined their attacks at once, as in their meetings, and Albus lost his wand. Someone in the crowd threw another spell at him, and in addition Dumbledore got his ribs and kneecaps crushed, causing him to fall screaming.

Lord Sirius Black grinned contentedly, winking at his godson. Next to him stood the already familiar blonde, grinning just like her cousin... At the same moment that the "unknown" spell hit the old man, the Weasley twins jumped on the awake Neville, staring in amazement at the battle. They pinned him to the molten floor in one motion and ripped the bloody ring from his ear, ripping it out with force, pulverizing it. And it wasn't easy: it resisted hard. If the twins hadn't been trained by aristocratic rat-catchers, who had not first encountered this sort of thing, the Weasleys would surely have been cursed. Longbottom screamed in a voice not his own before passing out. In the same instant, Dumbledore's phoenix picked up the moaning master in pain. He tried to make his way to Neville as well, but the twins had already dragged him into the nearest fireplace and were gone.

Dumbledore and the Pied Piper disappeared from the atrium simultaneously, leaving only destruction and bewildered, shocked wizards behind them...

- Tz. A great Light Wizard, and throwing around Unforgivable..." Severus Snape grimaced in disgust, making everyone shudder, but also mute...

"This will be sensational..." exhaled Fudge in a stunned breath. And everyone in that moment was in agreement with him...

***

- Dudley Dursle, do you consent to take Riona O'Neill as your lawful wife, to be with her for better or for worse, richer or poorer, sicker or healthier, until death do you part?

- Agreed. - Rhiona O'Neil, do you consent to take Dudley Dursle as your lawful wedded husband, to be with him for better or for worse, richer or poorer, sicker or healthier, until death do you part?

- Agreed. - Why the hell did they have to have a Muggle ceremony, too?! And this after all the magical vows?! - Draco was indignant.

- Dudley is important. He's half-blood, in case you haven't forgotten," Harold snapped at Malfoy, happy beyond belief for his brother.

- "And that's so sweet! - Luna exclaimed. Draco twitched, since she was his fiancée. Those in the know chuckled: while still Lovegood, she was just mocking Malfoy.

- Quiet, look, they're already kissing! - Neville exclaimed muffledly, hugging Susan. The girls gasped in sync, and the boys rolled their eyes in sync as well. The sun was beating down, and not even the sea breeze and the coolness of the waves that washed over some of the guests' feet could help. It was very hot in Barbados. But they had a few more weddings to attend here: Victor Cram and Hermione Granger, and Severus Snape and Rachel Norton.

The Pied Pipers, every last one of them, left Britain. Those who had the opportunity did so themselves. Those who couldn't, the others helped. Just left, taking with them only what was dear, including family and friends. They pooled their money and bought a whole block of small cottages, where they settled. Yes, that was in Barbados. But the former Hogwarts students had decided to finish their education in Salem, where they had already accepted their papers. All except Potter: he, it turned out, had turned in his TRITONs before the mess at the Ministry of Magic in England.

He strove onward, immersed in some kind of research with his wife. He was often seen with an ancient rawhide book in his hands... In magical England, it was still Fudge who ruled, pulling the strings of Lord Gaunt and the Council of Lords, who were quietly inculcating in wizards the forgotten laws of magic. A power akin to elemental magic in children, which wizards could control intuitively rather than with words and runes and wand strokes, was slowly awakening in the wizards of Europe. Magic was content. Minerva McGonagle became headmaster of Hogwarts. Ronald Weasley became the European champion in magical chess, of which he was immensely proud. He was going to conquer the world... And Dumbledore disappeared without a trace. Yes, the Pied Piper and Co. visited Britain, but so fleetingly, often on business, that they did not even know what opinion society had formed about their cousins' antics. They didn't care, because they were doing well...

***

A few years later...

Dumbledore, grumbling, barely able to move his legs, walked across the creaky floor of the little room to the bed, cursing at the aging Fawkes. Damn Gont brought up old grievances and pinned all his crimes on him. No doubt not without the help of Flamel, who surely knew that while they were working together, Albus had stolen many inventions from him that he did not consider essential. So, appropriating their development to himself, Dumbledore, then still young, hardly worried about the old man's revenge.

Now he was wanted in all countries that were under the jurisdiction of the International Confederation of Wizards. He had to hide in holes where civilization never looked. The Dark Lords weren't harassed like that either. And it was not at all good for his frail old body. He was planning a terrible revenge, yes, very terrible, almost insane, but even though he had lost all his former lucidity of mind, he knew that this revenge was still a dream.

He lay down on the badly made, half-rotten, wooden bed, covered by the once bright robe with stars at the hem, now more like a floor cloth. Magic helped keep her warm, but it couldn't bring back her former beauty. It had lost its magical power, Albus would not admit it, but that last spell, cast by what seemed to be Black, had robbed it of its former power. There was no trace of his former power. There was only a crumb of magic, and it was gone like water through my fingers.

He couldn't get comfortable without the pillow, so he cursed at the wretched Phoenix again. Fawkes cawed, losing his voice from the lack of food, and disappeared in a flash: the proud bird couldn't take it anymore.

The old man fell asleep, munching sweetly in his sleep: he dreamed of the massacre of a very specific person...

A small but terribly poisonous scorpion, looking at the satisfaction of the weary face, hesitated for a second and still stung the thin neck: the old man had suffered enough. It was... more merciful that way.

***

- So, are you happy now? - Dudley asked, regretting a little that his daughter couldn't walk yet, while his three-year-old nephew made sand piles, often looking back at his father and uncle.

- Happy now," Harry breathed out freely, smiling at his son and the sea that stretched out before them to the horizon.

- "I should have run away at once, I should have run away at once..."

END