CHAPTER 18 SONG OF THE FOUNDERS

The Crypt's Collapse

The earthquake tore through Hogwarts like a wrathful titan. Stones screamed as they fractured, tapestries billowed like phantoms, and the air thickened with dust and dread. In the crypt, the walls groaned, cracks spiderwebbing across centuries-old carvings of the Founders. Voldemort's shadowy form—now fused with the blight's oily smoke—loomed over the students, his laughter a jagged blade against the chaos.

Voldemort was successful on opening the tomb, and releasing the blight to the Hogwarts, pure evil released to the world. Earthquake comes about the area, very ominous feeling is felt by everyone in Hogwarts. Voldemort's shadowy figure though not completely formed was becoming more complete after Fusing with whatever smoke that came from the crypt. With lightening speed the twisted sisters throw offensive spells at Voldemort though just basic, they tried. After seeing that, Ezzy and others throw random basic spells and jinx at him. Even with elemental magic. When Ezzy binded Voldemort with ivy vine on his leg, Harry sent a lightening bolt though small and barely able to call a bolt, Voldemort lost patience and sent a wave of magic with a flick of his hand, everyone went flying. only Ezzy and the twisted sister were conscious, others got injured by hitting the wall or rolled down the stairs. Neville being the unlucky one was thrown out the window and was stuck hanging outside on a tree. Voldemort started insulting Harry and his parents, the Weasleys, then mudbloods.

"Pathetic," he hissed, his voice reverberating through the trembling earth. "You cling to purity as if it matters. Magic is power—raw, untamed. And I am its master."

The Twisted Sisters, Astra and Luna, staggered to their feet, their synchronized breaths ragged. Blood trickled from Luna's temple, but their hands steadied as they raised their wands. "Fulminus!" they cried in unison. Twin bolts of lightning lanced toward Voldemort, only to dissolve into harmless sparks against his swirling darkness.

Ezzy's vision swam. Hermione lay crumpled near a pillar, Ron's arm bent at a sickening angle. Neville dangled precariously from a splintered windowsill, his fingers white-knuckled around a tree branch. Harry's glasses were shattered, his face streaked with dust and determination as he crawled toward Jane, who groaned softly.

Listen to Hogwarts.

The journal's voice hummed in Ezzy's mind, softer now, urgent. It sings for its students.

The Purest Note

Aelara's song swelled—no longer a mournful dirge, but a lullaby of sunlight and spring. It wrapped around Ezzy, threading through his veins like liquid gold. He closed his eyes, letting the melody guide him.

Tharion is a curse. To break a curse…

His mother's words flickered in his memory: "Light drowns shadow. Life devours decay."

Ezzy began to sing.

At first, it was a whisper—a fragile thread of sound. But as the castle's magic answered, his voice grew. The air crackled, alive with the scent of rain and blooming jasmine. Moonlight pooled at his feet, and ivy erupted from the crypt's fissures, weaving a lattice of green.

"What is this?!" Voldemort snarled, recoiling as the ivy lashed at his form.

Ezzy's glow intensified. The blight's tendrils withered where his light touched them. Around him, the wounded stirred—Harry's glasses mended, Ron's arm snapped back into place, Neville's grip steadied by a coil of vine.

The Founders' Wrath

Four spectral figures materialized from the crumbling walls: Godric Gryffindor, sword ablaze; Helga Hufflepuff, cradling a glowing chalice; Rowena Ravenclaw, her diadem a crown of stars; and Salazar Slytherin, a serpent coiled around his staff.

"You defile our legacy," Gryffindor boomed, his blade cleaving the blight's smoke.

Hufflepuff's chalice overflowed with liquid light, dousing the shadows. "This school is a sanctuary," she intoned. "Not a tomb for your hunger."

Voldemort—no longer smirking—shrieked as Ravenclaw's diadem seared his essence. "You are nothing!" he spat at Slytherin. "A traitor to your own blood!"

Slytherin's serpent struck, fangs sinking into the darkness. "True power," he hissed, "is not stolen. It is earned."

With a final, deafening crack, the crypt collapsed. Voldemort's form disintegrated into a wisp of smoke, fleeing through a fissure in the stone.

The Aftermath

Ezzy's knees buckled. The last thing he saw was Dumbledore's stricken face as the Headmaster surged forward, his robes billowing like storm clouds.

"Mr. Knight!"

Then, nothing.

Nine Days

The hospital wing had become a garden. Vines cascaded from the ceiling, their flowers glowing softly. Poppy Pomphrey muttered incantations as she adjusted the ivy-curtained bed where Ezzy lay, his skin pale, his breathing shallow.

"Accidental mana manifestation," she explained to McGonagall, plucking a stray tendril from his pillow. "His magic's… rooted. Literally."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Suhi, Jane, and Neville took shifts. Ron brought Exploding Snap cards, though they mostly just flicked Bertie Bott's beans at each other. Hermione read aloud from Hogwarts: A History, her voice trembling when she reached the chapter on the Founders.

"He saved us," Neville said quietly, staring at his hands. "I was this close to falling—"

"But you didn't," Suhi cut in, squeezing his shoulder. "Because he's Ezzy."

The Twisted Sisters visited at night, slipping through the shadows like smoke. They left strange gifts: a vial of starlight, a feather that hummed when touched, a scroll inscribed with a single sentence: "The walls remember your song."

The Awakening

On the ninth day, Ezzy opened his eyes to sunlight filtering through jasmine blooms. Madam Pomphrey snored in a chair nearby, her hair adorned with daisies that had sprouted overnight.

"Took you long enough," a voice drawled.

Ezzy turned. Astra and Luna stood at the foot of his bed, their faces unreadable.

"You… helped," he croaked.

Astra's lip quirked. "We owed you a debt. Secrets are currency here."

Luna leaned closer. "The dagger is gone. But the blight's roots remain. Hogwarts is… wounded."

Before Ezzy could respond, the door burst open.

"He's awake!" Ron bellowed, tackling the bed in a hug that nearly toppled the ivy.

Harry, Hermione, Suhi, Jane, and Neville piled in, their laughter shaking the flowers loose. Even Dumbledore lingered in the doorway, his eyes twinkling once more.

The Unseen Threads

That evening, as the others regaled Ezzy with tales of Filch's newfound fear of potted plants, AstraLuna slipped him a note.

The Founders left a gift. Meet us at the Astronomy Tower. Midnight.

When Ezzy arrived, the twins stood bathed in moonlight, a spectral stag etched into the stones at their feet.

"Hogwarts' heart," Luna whispered. "It chose you."

Astra pressed a hand to the stag's brow. "The blight's roots are deep. To heal them, you must walk where magic began."

The sky glowed, and a path of stars unfurled across the sky—a map to a place not found in any book.

Epilogue: Whispers of Tomorrow

The castle healed, but shadows lingered. In the Forbidden Forest, centaurs spoke of a smoke-eyed figure prowling the edges. In the East Wing, the walls still wept faint streaks of crimson.

And in the hospital wing, Ezzy traced the star's mark on his palm, its light pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

Tharion sleeps… but not for long.