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(??? P.O.V)
It remembered only warmth.
Before form. Before flame had purpose.
Just the warmth of Chaos—its origin. A timeless sea of spiraling, ever-burning entropy. There were no names there. No shape. No thought.
Just fire. And comfort.
Then came cold.
It didn't understand.
The warmth was gone, replaced by an overwhelming hunger. It was torn from the infinite fire, pulled out, and hurled into a world with shape and time and silence.
A chorus of voices followed. Deafening. Absolute.
"Burn. Eat. Devour. Grow. Burn. Eat. Devour. Grow..."
It obeyed, because there was nothing else but the hunger.
It burned through forests, structures, spells, shades. It screamed as it fed—both in agony and joy. Because the fire was its only language, and the hunger, its only purpose.
Then came the other voice.
Gentler. Stranger.
The voice that banished the first command.
The hunger… dulled. Not gone, but no longer consuming its mind.
Something else took its place.
Warmth—not from Chaos, but from a different flame. One that tasted of Light. Soul. Magic. Identity.
From him.
The being who had unknowingly given it a name, though it had no tongue to speak it.
Its savior.
Its master.
The one who carried the same kind of difference it did—not of this order, not shaped by the same rules. Not of this universe. He was made of light, not fire, but both were born from the Outside.
The Fiendfyre Phoenix had watched and waited for when it would be off service to Loth, it's shaper. Now, it felt the summons and rose against the master's enemy.
Above it descended, War.
A meteor—vast, burning, alive. Inside it: a skeletal figure on a throne of blackened bone, surrounded by the souls of armies it had incinerated. Its flames were destruction incarnate. Its breath turned air into firestorms.
The Phoenix screamed.
Not in fear.
In purpose.
"Go." Loth muttered.
It launched from the tallest spire of the castle like a blue arrow of holy flame, trailing wildfire across the sky.
Where it met the meteor, fire met fire—but the Phoenix's was truer. Unnatural. Chaos-born.
Its blue blaze devoured the red, the arrow piercing through the 5 mile wide meteor in precision.
The souls within the meteor screamed as they were eaten—stripped of their bindings, consumed utterly.
And War, seated and watching with a skull-grin, realized too late that this flame could not be conquered.
Because it had already been freed once—and never again.
The Phoenix pierced through the throne, through the meteor's heart, through War himself.
And ate him.
The sky above Hogwarts erupted.
Crimson and azure fireworks blasted outward, clouds scattering like mist before a gale. Rings of light rippled into the heavens.
(General P.O.V)
Far below, in Hogwarts hallwas, students being shepherded by Professors looked up in awe.
Harry stopped in his tracks and pointed.
"Look!"
Atop the tallest spire, a figure stood, highlighted by the exploding sky.
Loth.
Arms outstretched. Body glowing.
A ripple of golden-pink power surged from him through the air, arcing like lightning across the towers and down into the castle walls.
Luna gasped, wide-eyed.
"I can feel him…"
Hermione looked around. "The castle's reacting—wards, arches, even the portraits are shaking."
McGonagall, breath catching as her wand shimmered, frowned sharply. "That's not just the castle. He's drawing from the leystrings—all of them. The whole grounds."
She shook herself from awe and barked to the students, "Keep moving!"
But Luna lingered.
Watching her brother.
Her friend.
Her anchor.
"What is he planning to do…?"
No one answered.
And in that silence, while the Professors led the others onward, Luna slipped away into a side passage.
She had to know he was safe.
Had to see.
-
The Loth standing atop the spire smiled, watching his Phoenix cut through the heavens like a comet of chaos.
It hadn't just scorched War—it had eaten him.
One of the Four Horsemen. Gone. Just like that.
He whispered, almost reverently, "You're magnificent."
The Fiendfyre Phoenix circled once, then dipped, descending in slow, sweeping arcs towards the ground, gathering more firepower in preparation. It was no longer waiting for orders. It was following desire—his.
"Now for the rest..." Loth extended his consciousness, letting it sink through the golden leystrings of the school. Hogwarts pulsed in response, ancient magic awakening beneath every stone.
He could feel it all—the towers, the chambers, the stairwells, the wards—his now, just as the Phoenix was his.
Magic rippled outward.
Stone blocks shifted. Foundations trembled.
Hogwarts began to reshape.
Walls twisted, corridors melted into one another. The ceiling of the Great Hall groaned as it peeled open, revealing the sky. Beneath the floor, layers of the castle rearranged—like clockwork—bringing the Room of Requirement directly below the Hall and the Chamber of Secrets below that.
The castle had become a battle pyramid. A single vertical theater of war.
Floating high above it all, Loth moved his arms with precision, guiding the transformation. No panic this time—only control.
Down below, Luna reached the edge of the rearranged Grand Staircase, just as the castle settled with a final, massive click.
Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up—there he was. Floating above it all like a conductor at the peak of his symphony.
And then—
Loth clapped his hands once.
"Let the party end."
The sky answered.
The Fiendfyre Phoenix shrieked and dived.
A blue blaze of annihilation streaked down through the open ceiling of the Grand Hall.
Straight through Death.
And Famine.
And Pestilence.
The beam ripped through each of them with a soundless roar, their forms unraveling into motes of spirit and soul fire, sucked instantly into the Phoenix's core.
There was no resistance. No scream. No final stand.
Only consumption.
The Phoenix erupted from the lowest chamber like a blast of purging flame, and soared up again, trailing soul ash behind it.
The castle returned to its original form just as quickly—walls rolling back into place, the Dining Hall ceiling resealing, staircases resetting with graceful precision.
And in the center of the dining hall, floating midair, stood Loth.
His soul pieces had rejoined and he was now whole.
He held out his hand, and the Fiendfyre Phoenix, now much bigger, glided downward. It flapped once, then gently landed on his outstretched finger. Its blazing feathers curled around its form in satisfaction.
"You did a good job," Loth said softly.
The Phoenix gave a chirp, then let out a small burp—a half-melted shard of black metal clattered to the floor beneath them.
A remnant of Death's Scythe.
Loth chuckled. "Go on. Rest. Digest your food."
With a flick of his fingers, he sent the Phoenix back to his spiritual domain. It vanished in a flare of firelight.
He exhaled deeply. It was over.
Or so he thought.
"You just keep on surprising me."
The voice came from down the hall, laced with admiration and something colder.
Loth turned.
On the other side of the room, Hecate stepped into view. Her form materialized from the very mist itself, trailing shadows and soft violet light.
Behind her, floating helplessly, was Luna—her eyes wide, her limbs slack. Stupefied.
Mist wrapped around her like ribbons, but as Loth looked closer, he saw it: thorns.
The coils constricted slightly, causing Luna to wince.
Loth's expression shifted instantly. Alarm. Anger.
Hecate's gaze met his, impassive.
"Taming an aspect of Chaos? Not to mention giving raw Fiendfyre a physical form? Nearly unthinkable. And yet, you've done it."
She tilted her head.
"But don't get too proud, my dear. That's the last victory you'll have for a while."
Loth floated a step forward, but the thorns twisted deeper. A warning.
Hecate's eyes narrowed. "We need to talk… Son."
Loth meet her gaze and spoke, his voice calm but sharp as obsidian."Do you really want to make an enemy of me?"
Hecate blinked, surprised at the tone. Then, she laughed. A soft, mocking laugh that echoed off the high beams of the Great Hall.
"Why? Because of a girl you've known for a few months?"
He didn't hesitate. "Yes."
The smile dropped from her face.
There was a long silence. Then Hecate tilted her head, her voice harder now, colder.
"You're an idiot. A child playing with forces he doesn't understand. You let a little power go to your head and now you think you're invincible."
Loth's expression didn't change. "You'll get a taste of that power if you don't let her go."
The threat wasn't loud. It didn't need to be to be effective.
Something in the air shifted. The leystrings of the castle hummed around him, vibrating with the force of his will.
Hecate sighed.
The thorny ropes relaxed. The mist unwound from Luna's body, and she collapsed forward—but Loth caught her easily, cradling her against his chest.
Her breathing was shallow, but steady. He brushed a lock of hair from her face, then glared up at Hecate.
She shook her head slowly.
"If you truly believe I would harm her," Hecate said, "then I've failed you more than I thought. I love that girl. She is like a daughter to me."
Loth didn't answer.
"Besides," she continued with a dry smile, "we both know you could destroy me here and now. I'm just a projection—a mist body. This isn't even close to my true form."
She crossed her arms.
"I came to help you. I gave you a path. You ignored it. Fine. It worked out—for now. But what about next time?"
Loth looked down at Luna, then up again.
"I'm grateful for what you've done for me. Truly. But I'm tired of your games. Your secrets. Your strings. We're done."
For a heartbeat, Hecate's expression twisted with rage—her face darkening like a stormcloud ready to break.
But then she inhaled deeply and forced herself calm.
"So be it."
She turned slightly, her form beginning to dissolve into curling trails of fog.
"If you insist on doing things your way," she said, "start by visiting the Restricted Library. There, you'll find the truth about the Horsemen. About what they really are. About what they're really for. And why they were imprisoned in the Elder Wand."
She paused, and her voice echoed, faint and fading.
"Once you understand that… you'll know just how much you still need me."
And then she was gone.
Nothing left but a faint whisper in the air and the scent of lavender and cold stone.
Loth stood in the silence, holding Luna close.
He looked toward the high stained-glass windows of the Grand Hall.
Outside, the sky was beginning to clear.