HP: A Magical Journey

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“What do you think you’re doing?” Dumbledore’s voice echoed in Quinn’s ear.

Quinn pulled up a shield that blocked a Fiendfyre wolf. The flame apparition tried to claw and bite through the shield, causing burning lacerations with every attack. Quinn’s brows wrinkled at the sheer weakness of his shield— Fiendfyre was as tricky as it could get. He grunted in his dull pain as he stood up. He glared at the fire and sent out a burst of Legilimency to the wolf— and made it blow up away from him and kept it there. Any flame that came near him would wither away into middling heat.

Quinn turned towards Dumbledore, who faced much more fire than him, and spoke to him in his Noir voice, sending it directly to his ear, which was difficult as Fiendfyre burned through magic itself. “Is this the right time to try taking me in, Albus Dumbledore? There is clearly a greater evil present, someone all are trying to get rid of. So why in the name of magic would you attack ME!”

Dumbledore swung the Elder wand, and with the one swing, half of Voldemort’s Fiendfyre extinguished as if the horrifying fire never existed. A glaring white light shone on Dumbledore’s wand as he swung his wand once more to launch a blinding jet of light that cut through Fiendfyre and toward Voldemort.

“Keep those thoughts of yours to yourself,” Dumbledore’s voice echoed again as he continued to launch spell after spell toward Voldemort. “I do not care about apprehending you, and I can’t Voldemort catch here without risking the lives of risk of everyone in this room— the lives that you just put at risk and came close to killing everyone.”

“What nonsense are talk—”

“Do you know where you are?” Dumbledore interjected. “Look around and tell me where we are.”

‘The damned Socratic questioning! Why is he doing that now?!’ In the years Quinn had spent near Dumbledore, while he hadn’t interacted much with the headmaster, he had seen enough to understand Dumbledore’s educational method— the Socratic questioning: the technique that focused on discovering answers by asking questions from his students. Whenever Dumbledore wanted to teach something, he would never offer an answer to the problem directly; instead posed a question that would lead the person to the answer in the form of a realization— which would stick in a person’s mind.

It infuriated Quinn that Dumbeldore stuck to his practices in the current situation. He was of the mind to ignore Dumbledore but decided to go with it.

‘What the hell is he talking—’

Quinn froze for a second as he came to the realization that Dumbledore wanted him to arrive at. He had forgotten where he was in the heat of the moment and under the pressure of facing Voldemort. But the sight of shivering people crouching, laying down, and huddled together under golden protective domes kicked him down to the truth of the harsh reality. If Fiendfyre was dangerous enough for him that he needed to be on a constant lookout, then for the helpless people who didn’t have anywhere near sufficient means to protect themselves, the current situation was nothing less than hell.

Maybe Quinn’s body language had given it away, but Dumbledore spoke on cue.

“I don’t know about you, but I am not here to defeat Voldemort; right now, all I want is to get him out of here so the people don’t lose their lives. If you plan to make difficulties, then I severely suggest that you leave, or I will make you treat you the same as Voldemort.”

Dumbledore’s magic soared, and the roam somehow turned hotter, but the Fiendfyre seemed to retreat towards Voldemort as if the invisible heat was consuming the Fiendfyre as a fuel.

Quinn gritted his teeth. Voldemort wasn’t directing as much harm toward his way, and Dumbledore treated him as if he was nothing but a nuisance.

He didn’t like that at all.

Everyone with enough skill and prowess felt it. A disgustingly monstrous amount of magic flooded into the room, and for a moment, the chaos of Dumbledore versus Voldemort, along with the side scene of Aurors versus Death Eaters, settled into an unstable calm.

The water in the fountain situated in the middle of the atrium rippled. The gravity around the fountain seemed to flip as the water rose like a reverse fountain. The fountain seemed to have an endless amount of water because soon, the water bubble in the air was big enough to drench and soak everyone in the atrium.

Dumbledore stared at the floating water with confused eyes.

Quinn’s eyes turned purple as the water started to glow in shimmering silver light. He thrust his hand, and the water turned into a pre-historic dinosaur-bird that flapped its wings, making it drizzle before charging into the bush of Fiendfyre.

A sharp hissing sound echoed in the atrium as the dinosaur and the multitudes of fire creatues went at it against each other, trying to destroy each other. And finally, after such a long period, Voldemort’s Fiendfyre looked like it was going to struggle.

Quinn looked away from the water versus fire spectacle and directly focused on what to do next. A lot of water had rained down on the floor, and there was a lot of it on the floor. He took a step forward, and the puddles of water on the floor rose up and froze into ice spikes. Hundreds of ice spikes formed near the ground and shot up towards Voldemort at frightening speeds.

Voldemort, who was trying to fight back the spelled water with Fiendfyre, at once dropped the spell when he sensed the ice spikes coming to skewer him. He swept his wand, and the ice spikes all, at once, changed their trajectory just enough to miss him altogether.

Quinn wasn’t disheartened. He had much bigger ammunition to exploit. All the water in the air that was contending with the Fiendfrye was now free, so Quinn put it to work. Under the command of his magic, all the water turned into a fine mist invisible to the naked eye.

And to many, it would’ve seemed like a move to clear up the battlefield for ease of movement, but to those who could sense magic, it was a completely different feeling. Some could feel a tingle on their skin; to others, it felt as if they had been dunked inside a pot of stick hot honey. Whatever they felt, they could tell that it was something big as the sheer amount of magic that was present inside the atrium was unprecedented to most people.

Voldemort and Dumbledore both stared at Quinn, who stood absolutely still, not giving away a single clue what he was going to do next. Never let them guess your move. But when he made his move, everyone in the atrium knew it as there was a massive shift and thrum in Quinn’s magic.

Shing! Voldemort’s eyes widened when he saw an ice spear appear right in front of his chest. The sole ice spear melted off before it could reach Voldemort, but Quinn wasn’t disappointed.

‘That was one. . . but what’re you going to do with the rest of them.’ ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀ​ꪶ​

Quinn snapped his fingers, and ten ice spears chilled the air in Voldemort’s immediate vicinity. They came from everywhere and targetted every part of his body, from his feet to his neck and head. Again, the Dark Lord didn’t have a problem dissolving every single one of them.

But all that did was to make Quinn remember the Architect’s Vault. It only got worse.

Voldemort felt a little chilly on his bald head. He looked up to find himself staring at a colossal ice pillar hovering up his head. Then it dropped down on his head. He raised his wand and launched an explosive spell straight into the base. The ice exploded brutually, but just when it did, the ice puffed into a mist and turned invisible.

Quinn smirked. The Icy Vault’s snowflake was incredibly annoying at times.

‘Now, let’s get real.’

Suddenly, Voldemort found himself facing hundreds of ice spears launched at him. He destroyed them, but those he targetted would disappear at the last movement, and more ice weapons like rods, chakrams, and cannonballs would appear. It was an endless barrage of weaponry. It was as if he facing an army instead of one Quinn.

“Annoying!” Voldemort spelled a wave of heat that burst out, melting all the ice, and as it disappeared into mist, he pointed his wand at Quinn, and it glowed green. He wanted to get rid of the problem at its root.

Quinn adapted and responded by collecting the water vapor suspended in the air to form a shield around him to get some protection from the clearly obvious Killing curse.

As Voldemort was about to shoot to kill, his eyes shrunk, and he had dropped the Killing curse and replaced it with a shielding screen for the most horrifying seen explosion launched by Dumbledore.

“Injure him,” Dumbledore’s voice echoed in Quinn’s ears. “I will hold him back and cover for you.”

Quinn didn’t need a second prompt as he began his assault of ice and water and started to mix in spells and charms learned to injure Voldemort.

Quinn began to walk toward Voldemort, and horrifying attacks were made against him today. His heat bounced up in his chest as he approached Voldemort as the Dark Lord struggled with a two-prong attack— with Dumbledore pressuring Voldemort in an intense duel while Quinn continued to pressure with his ice weapon barrage.

A small Empyream knife appeared in Quinn’s hand. He held it by its blade, took aim, chose an opening, and finally threw it.

“AAAH!”

Voldemort screamed in pain as he clutched his face. As one would expect from someone titled Dark Lord, Voldemort didn’t falter completely and, despite the seemingly intense pain, he still continued to barely hold back both Dumbledore and Quinn.

Quinn wildly smiled behind his mask.

In the fifth year, during the third task of the Tri-Wizard tournament, he had lost an eye. Voldemort had clearly done something to get rid of his artificial eye drone and had manipulated his creation to target his real eye.

And today. . . he had taken revenge. Voldemort’s hand covered the left side of his face with blood streaming down. The pleasure from that sight was incredible. Moreover, the Empyrean knife had a curse weaved into it, which was going to create problems when healing. But he got sober soon as Voldemort glared daggers at him and immediately shot multiple Killing curses at him.

Quinn immediately brought on the ice from the floating mist and blocked every one of them. But he could feel the force of anger behind every cast.

Just as Quinn’s magic had flooded the atrium before, Voldemort’s magic rampaged out, tainted with fury. It made both Quinn and Dumbledore cautious as it was an indication that Voldemort was about to cast something big.

But then the Ministry building shook once again like it had been doing so many times in the past some time. But unlike the other ones, this one seemed special as Voldemort’s magic retreated and the Dark Lord disappeared with his Death Eaters following suit.

Quinn was shocked but pulled himself together quick as he knew that soon all the attention would be upon him. He turned invisible, and as he was about to leave, he looked at Dumbledore, who was staring back at him— but the headmaster didn’t make any moves as Quinn went away from the Ministry.

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Quinn West – MC – REVENGE!

Albus Dumbledore – Headmaster – Magic, more magic, more magic.

Voldemort – Dark Lord – Is definitely planning something.

FictionOnlyReader – Author – Oh my god, this took too much time.

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The link is in the synopsis!