Advanced chapters on my [email protected]/Saintbarbido.
(General P.O.V)
Quiet settled upon the dueling chamber, loud with tension.
Even the paintings along the walls seemed to hold their breath as Dumbledore stood at one end, wand raised, robes still.
Opposite him, Loth hovered a few inches above the cracked stone floor, his Anodite form shimmering like a star pulled into human shape.
Snape stood nearby, hurriedly casting protective wards around the observers. some curious, everyone nervous.
Inspite of his fear, Dumbledore stayed steadfast and eager, almost vibrating with excitement. He knew this wasn't a duel of hatred. He couldn't sense any violent intent in Loth, who gave off the feeling of a teacher about to instruct a student.
"Are you certain about this, Headmaster?" Snape questioned, regarding Loth hostilely.
Dumbledore nodded, never taking his eyes off the Anodite.
"It is not about winning. It is about understanding."
A moment passed.
Then Loth spoke, voice soft yet resonating clearly.
"You are brave, Wizard. To stand before a being of mana and raise your wand. Bravery—or folly?"
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "I have found the line between the two... rather thin."
A tiny, very small, barely visible smile briefly tugged at Loth's lips. Then it was gone.
Without another word, the duel began.
Dumbledore moved first.
A swish of his wrist, and the very air wove into silver threads—an intricate net meant to bind Loth where he floated.
'Wordless casting. Impressive. Expected.'
Loth watched the threads with mild interest, instantly grasping their strengths and weaknesses and areas of improvement.
'Condensing the magic tighter would result in thinner, sharp and unbreakable threads. Unfortunately such control is beyond the limits of Wizardry.'
Then he exhaled.
The threads unraveled instantly, absorbed into the swirling light of his form.
"You seek to catch the sea with a sieve," Loth said, almost kindly. "Mana is not yours to command. It simply is."
Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with curiosity. He summoned blue fire—Protego Diabolica—and hurled it forward. The flames roared toward Loth like a living creature, biting at the air.
Loth stepped forward into the inferno without hesitation.
The fire vanished into him, absorbed like rain into the earth. His Fiendfyre pet grew larger from the offering, letting out a satisfied croon.
"You see? Your fire is but a drop in my sea," Loth added calmly.
Dumbledore frowned slightly. He shifted tactics.
Drawing on ancient knowledge, Dumbledore carved runes of anti-magic into the very floor beneath them. The stones shimmered, the air vibrating with the pressure of layered spells, further enhanced through the Elder Wand.
Loth watched as the razor-sharp runes spiraled toward him.
Then he opened his mouth—and sang.
A single, resonant note filled the chamber.
The runes shattered like glass under the weight of the sound.
"You wizards cling to symbols, to words," Loth murmured, drifting closer. "But magic does not need them. It does not need wands. It is existence itself."
The truth of it shook even the paintings.
Dumbledore hesitated for the first time.
Still, he had one more gambit.
He whispered an incantation older than any living wizard knew—a forbidden Scandinavian siphoning spell—and raised his hand. A dark spiral opened in his palm, greedily seeking to drain Loth's power.
Loth tilted his head curiously.
Instead of resisting, he allowed it.
The vortex strained, trying to drink his essence—but the more it pulled, the brighter Loth's form burned. The spell cracked, overloaded, and exploded, sending Dumbledore stumbling back.
At the same instant, the Elder Wand shrieked—a high, painful sound worse than a Mandrake's cry.
The whole hall flinched, covering their ears.
Loth, without hurry, raised his hand and enveloped the Elder Wand in a pink sphere.
"Hush, little one," he whispered. "I mean you no harm."
The surface of the sphere rippled, cutting off the Wand's cry. Unknown to him, a small crack had appeared on the wand's surface, caused by the magic overload when it had tried to absorb his anodite energy.
Dumbledore, recovering his balance, looked up at him—not with defiance, but something closer to awe.
"You cannot empty the sky of stars," Loth smirked down.
"You cannot fight fire with dry grass."
Dumbledore lowered his head with a resigned nod. The weight of understanding fell over him.
"You are right," The greatest Wizard alive said quietly. "You are not casting magic. You are magic."
Loth's glow softened. Something almost like respect passed between them.
"You are wise to see it," he replied. "Many would have fought until they were ash."
Dumbledore chuckled wearily. "I prefer learning over burning."
The dueling chamber began to mend itself, cracks smoothing over as magic relaxed its grip.
Loth's looked out the high windows toward the evening sky.
"I miss my little sister," he said, voice gentler. "If there's nothing else..."
Dumbledore gave a deep, respectful bow.
"Hogwarts welcomes you, for as long as you choose to stay, God of Mana."
Loth nodded once. His form dissolved into pink threads of magic, vanishing into Hogwarts' leystrings.
The Elder Wand floated down and landed lightly in Dumbledore's hand.
It still pulsed faintly with the echoes of what had passed.
He turned it over thoughtfully.
"Perhaps," Dumbledore murmured, "it is time to learn a new way."
Snape approached, scowling.
"Headmaster," he said stiffly. "With all due respect, giving free rein to something we do not fully understand—with students present—is... unwise."
Dumbledore's expression saddened slightly.
"Your concern is not misplaced, Severus. But understand this: even if the entire Wizarding World stood against him... they would lose. There is no controlling such kind of power with suspicion or hostility."
Snape's mouth tightened.
"This is not a time to raise wands," Dumbledore said. "It is a time for diplomacy. For trust."
He turned away slightly.
"Now, if you're finished wasting time," he added lightly, "go check on the healers. See to it that Loth's original body recovers smoothly."
Snape nodded curtly and stalked off. The others followed, exiting the Headmaster's office.
Dumbledore remained in the quiet, looking out through the window into the emerging stars.
"God of magic indeed." He mused, for the first time in a while, wondering if they were yet to truly discover the limits of magic. If it had any.
The Elder Wand no longer sat within the folds of his robes. From it's spot above his desk, dark smoke begun seeping out of the crack.
(Loth's P.O.V)
I blinked into existence atop the tallest spire of Hogwarts.
The night air rippled around me, cool and sharp. Below, the castle sprawled like a sleeping titan, its many turrets and gargoyle statues gleaming under the silver touch of the moon.
I hadn't meant to come here.
I was looking for Luna.
I frowned, confused. Something tugged at the edges of my awareness, pulling me in different directions all at once. It wasn't painful—just... strange. Like I was standing on a spiderweb, feeling every vibration at once.
Then my vision shifted.
Three more sets of eyes opened. Three more perspectives layered over my own.
And I realized what had happened.
My soul had fractured.
Split instinctively as I traveled through Hogwarts' leystrings—those ancient, living conduits of magic that wove beneath every stone and corridor.
Four pieces of me, anchored across the castle.
One stood here, atop the spire. Watching the world. Watching the stars.
Another stirred far underground, deep within the Chamber of Secrets. There, the damp air clung to broken stone.
The ancient corpse of the Basilisk shifted on the ground, twitching with grotesque new life. Across the chamber, the statue of Salazar Slytherin creaked and twisted, its stony features warping into something wrong.
A third soul fragment floated in the Room of Requirement. The mist inside was thick, swirling unnaturally.
From it emerged tiny white bugs, swarming in the thousands, each one consuming magic—and each other—with mindless hunger. The very walls of the pocket dimension trembled under their infestation.
The fourth and final fragment stood invisibly inside the Great Hall, perched unseen atop a stone statue above the faculty, watching.
Down below, the students laughed and feasted under floating candles.
Luna sat with her friends at the Gryffindor table, smiling quietly as she listened to 4 kids that I instinctively recognized as Hermione, Ginny, Ron and the Main Character himself...Harry Potter.
Luna was right, he came off as reliable similar to Percy.
Speaking of Luna, she looked peaceful. Happy and safe.
It grounded me—for a moment.
Then a sharp cry tore through the night.
On the spire above my main soul fragment, my Fiendfyre phoenix spread its burning wings, letting out a piercing warning screech. I followed its gaze skyward.
A meteor.
No—not a natural one. This rock burned with twisted, pulsing familiar magic. It hurtled toward Hogwarts, dragging a burning scar across the stars.
It was coming for us.
Almost simultaneously:
In the Chamber of Secrets, the Basilisk's corpse jerked upright, its bones snapping into place, green rot gleaming between its fangs. It's milky white gaze fell on me with malice.
In the Room of Requirement, the cloud of white insects thickened to hundreds of thousands, after chewing through the magical relics and artefacts floating around in the space, they focused on me and came swarming. Reality thinned, and the room groaned like it was about to collapse.
And in the Great Hall, the candles flickered strangely.
A coldness spread, slow and seeping.
A ripple of energy, old and alien, slithered into the room. Most students didn't notice, still chatting and laughing. But Luna and Harry froze. Their heads snapped up, sensing the wrongness.
I felt it too.
Something uninvited had breached Hogwarts.
Above the Gryffindor table, the air shuddered—and a figure formed from the darkness.
It was Death. The Mist around It revealed.
Not the skeletal figure of fairytales, or an aspect of Thanatos but a shadow in a tattered cloak riding a skeletal horse burning with gray fire and haloed by a chilling Mist.
It remained unseen by most, but to me, Luna, Harry and a few others—it was as clear as day.
Death was here.
And it hadn't come alone.
The meteor in the sky.
The reanimated monster below.
The infestation spreading.
The presence of Death itself stalking the halls.
This wasn't a random attack. Not an accident. Something was responsible. And the answer was obvious in retrospect.
The duel with Dumbledore had done more than strain Hogwarts' wards, didn't it?
The Elder Wand—housing ancient seals and forgotten spells—had cracked under the pressure.
And from that crack, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse had slipped free: War, Pestilence, Famine, and Death.
I felt the truth of it.
My soul hadn't fractured by accident. It had been a defense. A subconscious preparation.
Each fragment had moved to meet the threats before they could tear the school apart.
I flexed my awareness. Felt the leystrings hum under my skin. Felt the Elder Wand's diminished power as it was now a regular wand, only capable of as much.
Dumbledore was right, the Wand had held some unexpected secrets.
I breathed in slowly despite the absence, savoring the crispness of the night.
If they thought Hogwarts would fall tonight, they had chosen the wrong castle.
My gaze turned toward the falling star, burning ever closer.
"...Fine," I muttered.
Pink Lightning crackled over my knuckles. My blue Phoenix cawed and rose to meet the Meteor.
"I'll show you exactly...what Anodite magic is."