HP: A Magical Journey

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Voldemort raised his wand and sent a jet of green light at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak; next second, he had reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand toward the Fountain of Magical Brethren for the golden statue of the wizard in the fountain to sprung alive, leaping from its plinth, and landed on the floor with a crash between Dumbledore and Voldemort.

The wizard statue planted a knee on the floor, cocking his arm, and brought down a golden fist atop Voldemort, who spread his arms like an orchestra conductor, and the incoming punch changed directions, crashing a few feet away. But neither Dumbledore nor his animated statue was done as the other palm came sweeping from the side.

Voldemort jutted his wandless arm toward the palm. A barrier appeared in between Voldemort and the golden palm and brought the mighty statue’s arm to stop.

Voldemort’s lipless mouth pulled back and bared his teeth towards Dumbledore and swung his wand; the wizard statue’s arm turned to liquid, and the bulky golden globs sped towards Dumbledore, who flicked his wand, and the globs turned into cold tar blocks, falling down on the ground.

Dumbledore made the next move, and the rest of the statues in Fountain of Magical Brethren came to life — witch, woman, man, half-elf, goblins, centaur all jumped down from their pillars stampeded towards Voldemort.

“ENOUGH!” said Voldemort, and with his yell, the statues crumbled down into pieces, and the force of the spell was felt across the Atrium. “You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” he growled. “Stop playing games, or are you above such brutality, is that it?!”

“We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,” Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —”

“There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” snarled Voldemort.

Dumbledore sighed, “Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness —”

Another jet of green light flew towards Dumbledore, but a silver shield blocked it, and Dumbledore continued to talk, “Tom, whatever happens, today, you won’t be getting your hands on that prophecy.”

“You can’t stop me, Dumbledore,” said Voldemort, his dull black eyes turned a glowing scarlet red, he looked at the fallen statues and spoke, “you’ve lost your touch, I can tell. . . how long has it been since you used magic to the fullest? How long has it been since you actually dove into the arts?”

Dumbledore didn’t reply, causing a smile to appear on Voldemort’s face.

“You have grown complacent, Dumbledore. I, on the other hand, spent thirteen years. . . living,” there was steel in his as he spoke of his time as a spirit, “I might have been away, but I spent all those years. . . thinking, gaining from what I was given, what I was left with — I never wasted a moment — but you, on the other hand, played headmaster with kids.”

Dumbledore didn’t look bothered. What Voldemort said might have been true; he indeed hadn’t exerted him for a long time, there was never a need for him to do so, and he wasn’t bothered by it.

“That doesn’t change anything, as long as we’re here,” Dumbledore pointed at Atrium, and his eye blue eyes started to glow with a silver light, “it doesn’t matter whatever you or I did for the last ten years.”

Voldemort had no retort. As long as both of them were in a closed space, it restricted what both of them could do. If they truly fought, as Voldemort wished for, the Ministry headquarters and the Whitehall above with various Muggle government bureaus and ministries would turn to rubble and dust in minutes.

Dumbledore smiled at Voldemort’s response or the lack of it. It might be true that he lost out to the man in front of him in raw power, but that in no way meant that they were weak; in a restricted place like this, they were all but equal.

‘Even if we weren’t, I wouldn’t lose,’ thought Dumbledore with pride tainting his thoughts. There was a reason why he was granted the title of Grand Sorcerer. He had a hundred years of experience behind him.

Dumbledore drew back his wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort, who conjured a shield, but the fiery whip burned brighter and longer, enveloping the shield dome as well. He pulled on the fire whip, and it tightened around Voldemort’s shield, strangling it as the dome contracted like a balloon when squeezed.

It seemed Dumbledore had gained the upper hand for a moment, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, which relinquished its hold upon Voldemort at once and turned, hissing furiously, to face Dumbledore.

Voldemort vanished, and the snake grew into a Basilisk, rearing its head at the colossal height of twenty feet. The fire apparition roared and hissed fire out. Dumbledore’s eyes widened when the flames turned a violet shade — a curse was weaved into the fire.

‘But where’s —’

Dumbledore’s pulse skipped a beat as he felt a palpitation of magic behind him. Without turning back, Dumbledore pulled a translucent blue shield that instantly multiplied into three layers of barriers. The next instant, he felt a force attack from his back.

A grunt escaped him. Dumbledore turned and saw an orangish-yellow flame with a terrible curse that he was well familiar with — Fiendfyre.

“Tom, has your brain degraded with your appearance? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” he said to Voldemort, who stood on the empty Fountain of Magical Brethren’s pedestal.

Voldemort didn’t reply, he didn’t need to, and he knew that Dumbledore wasn’t looking for one. Fiendfyre might be a demanding spell to control and contain when cast, but under his experienced and masterful lead, it was as easy to manage as a Lumos.

“You won’t be leaving here alive, Dumbledore,” said the Dark Lord.

Dumbledore furrowed his brows as the Fiendfyre pushed against him.

‘Where are they?’ he thought. ‘Why haven’t they arrived yet?’

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– (Scene Break) –

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Near the carnival grounds, the Aurors and Death Eaters were exchanging spells in the woods. Four dozen Aurors were being matched with ten Death Eaters on the front and five others who were hidden in the woods, pushing the Aurors back with stealthy covers for the main fighting force.

“Potter~! How’s your little boy doing?! My master has been dying to meet him, though if they meet, he’s going to die!” Bellatrix Lestrange called gleefully as she side-stepped one spell, blocked two others, and shot a Cruciatus back, and felt her smile touch her ears from the scream.

James conjured dozens of steel swords and shot them towards the Death Eaters, but the blades vanished without a trace before they reached.

“Shit!” a vein popped on James’ temple, his eyes peering past Bellatrix and looking at Augustus Rookwood standing in the middle of the Death Eater encirclement.

The ex-Unspeakable was being the main reason four dozen Aurors were having problems with fifteen Death Eaters. Rookwood stood defended by the rest and was solely responsible for dispelling any dangerous spells that were pushed towards them, which he was unusually good at.

“How’s he doing that?!” asked James.

“It’s related to his research field,” Sirius said, having studied Augustus Rookwood.

Unspeakables, at their core, were researchers who peered into the mysteries of magic, working to push wizardkind’s knowledge of magic to newer heights. Some studied emotions like love and hatred, while others studied the fabled field of time, and then there were those who dove into the concept of death itself.

“Rookwood’s research of choice was on how to dismantle the internal magic in spells. From what little the Unspeakables gave me when Rookwood was still active, he was able to dismantle a wide range of transfigurations and many of the common use offensive spells,” said Sirius, giving his best friend a grim look.

James wrinkled his nose as he animated a squadron of golems and sent them barreling towards the Death Eaters. But inside, his thoughts were filled with what Rookwood could do in a duel. Almost everybody used common use spells while dueling with creating their own flair by adding unusual spells.

James gulped. Just by disabling common spells, Rockwood gained an edge on every person with a wand; Aurors were no exception.

“Get aside,” said Shacklebolt and swung his wand in an elliptical motion; the sky above the clearing started to darken.

Rookwood looked up and saw a flash of light on the surface clouds. His eyes narrowed before widening to the limit.

“Rabastan, Rodolphus!” he said. “Incoming from the sky. Cover it!” This wasn’t something he would be able to dispel.

The Lestrange brothers looked up at the sky and, without questions, raised barrier above the group just in time for a white flash followed by a loud crack.

“Bloody—”

“Ugh!”

The Lestrange brothers groaned as the giant lightning bolt assaulted their joint shields.

James and Sirius looked at Shacklebolt, who raised his wand again, and another bolt assaulted the Death Eaters. He stepped back from the frontline and breathed a sigh.

“Don’t look at me and barrage them while they’re off balance!” he yelled at the people who stared at him. ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀ​ꪶ​

The Captain Aurors’ words were immediately heeded, and the Auror forces started to concentrate their spells on the Lestrange brothers, and it worked as Rodolphus Lestrange got hit by a spell and screamed in pain.

“Brother!” Rabastan said in between shooting spells; he turned briefly to look at his prone brother. “Get out of here, now!”

Rodolphus lifted his sleeve, all but tearing it to reveal his dark mark; with great difficulty, he pressed his wand against the skull, and with a flurry of flashing light, he was gone.

“Oh, no!” said Bellatrix, pouting as she pounded the ground. “Playtime is over. It’s too soon! I want to play more! Well, there will always be the next time,” she then smiled, “but before we go, we will leave you with a gift.”

Bellatrix pointed to the distance with a sparkling grin on her face.

None of the Seniors or Captains took their eyes off the battle, but Edwards did and saw a sight even though a first for him, horrified him to the core because of what it meant.

“Sirs!”

Shacklebolt, who was on downtime, turned and even his breath caught up.

Above the carnival, in the sky, floated a green skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth, curling around the skull — it was eerie, it was chilling, and it was — the Dark Lord’s mark.

A wall of earth raised around the Death Eaters, and before the Aurors could break it down, the Death Eaters were gone, Portkeying away as they had planned.

“Go! Go! To the circus!” said Shacklebolt, running towards the carnival before apparating to cover the distance.

His and every Aurors’ hearts beat in their ribcages.

Morsmordre’s appearance in muggle areas was always accompanied by blood.

They only hoped they could make it in time.

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– (Scene Break) –

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Voldemort pumped more magic into the Fiendfyre, and instantly, one of three barriers shattered.

Dumbledore turned away from Voldemort to face the violet fire vertebrate. It was still a threat even if it wasn’t as dangerous as the Fiendfyre.

As the saying went, fight curse with curse.

Dumbledore brought his hand close, and a jet of water fountained out, rising in his waves, and in seconds, he had conjured enough water to fill multiple Olympic-sized swimming pools. The rising water then shimmered in dull light, turning cloudy — it had been cursed.

The water formed a phoenix figure and clashed against Voldemort’s fire Basilisk.

The two elemental giants battled for dominance.

Dumbledore turned back to Voldemort the moment the second barrier broke, but as Dumbledore pushed more magic into his shield, Fienfyre disappeared like kindling on a windy day.

And before Dumbledore could react, a jet of green light flew at Dumbledore from Voldemort’s wand at speed so quick that it didn’t take a single second to cover the distance.

A burst of fire bloomed in front of Dumbledore, and from it appeared Fawkes, the phoenix. The bird opened its beak wide and

swallowed the jet of the green light whole. He burst into flame and fell small, wrinkled, and flightless to the floor.

At the same moment, Dumbledore brandished his wand in one, long, fluid movement — the water phoenix, which had been fighting the fire basilisk, grew angrier and sunk its talons into the fire, peaked the snake, and enveloped the fire monster within its wings — snuffing it out. Then it twisted its body in the air and flew towards Voldemort, covering him in a cocoon of molten glass.

For a few seconds, Voldemort was visible only as a dark, rippling, faceless figure, shimmering and indistinct upon the plinth, clearly struggling to throw off the suffocating mass.

Dumbledore watched as Voldemort struggled inside the water ball. His eyes went to the chick-phoenix rolled on the floor in a pile of ash, helpless in the dangerous situation, and seeing that sight made a rare anger bubble inside him.

Water blades formed inside the entrapment and ruthlessly zipped towards the center. He didn’t want to kill Voldemort because he needed to know the locations and numbers of Horcruxes, but it didn’t prevent him from taking away the limbs; they weren’t necessary.

The water sphere burst open, and Voldemort hovered in the air, making Dumbledore gasp. It was unaided flight, something thought to be impossible before.

“I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, DUMBLEDORE!”

Voldemort’s legs and abdomen were bleeding, but everything was still in one piece; the rage in the scarlet eyes was something to be feared.

“Avada Kedav—”

He didn’t complete the spell as the falling water from the water sphere turned into ice spheres and shot towards Voldemort under Dumbledore’s command.

And it was that time when the Atrium doors burst open, and a few high-ranking with their Auror guards arrived — people like Cornelius Fudge, Amelia Bones, Rufus Scrimgeour, and the Hit Wizard Chief among the few others.

Voldemort looked at Dumbledore, ignoring the insignificant others; his eyes were dripping with hatred as his body dripped blood. He wanted to blow the entire street above, but logic didn’t allow him.

He gave his wand a swing, sending statue pieces flying towards Dumbledore, and took the chance to escape by vanishing from the venue.

“He was there!” shouted a scarlet-robed man with a ponytail, who was pointing at a pile of golden rubble on the other side of the hall. “I saw him, Mr. Fudge, I swear, it was You-Know-Who, he just Disapparated!”

“I know, Williamson, I know, I saw him too!” said Fudge, gibbering, who was wearing pajamas under his pinstriped cloak and was gasping as though he had just run miles. “Merlin’s beard — here — here! — in the Ministry of Magic! — great heavens above — it doesn’t seem possible — my word — how can this be?”

“Dumbledore!” gasped Fudge, apparently beside himself with amazement. “You — here — I — I —”

“Stop, Cornelius,” Dumbledore raised a tired hand up, “I don’t wish to talk or answer any questions. But a few minutes ago, you saw proof, with your own eyes, that I have been telling you the truth for a year. Lord Voldemort has returned, you have been chasing the wrong men for twelve months, and it is time you listened to sense!”

“I — don’t — well —” blustered Fudge, looking around as though hoping somebody was going to tell him what to do.

“I’m going home,” said Dumbledore bluntly before turning to Amelia. “I’ll be talking to you soon, Amelia.”

He picked up Fawkes and walked to where the golden wizard’s head lay on the floor. He pointed his wand at it and muttered, “Portus.” The head glowed blue and trembled noisily against the wooden floor for a few seconds, then became still once more.

“Now see here, Dumbledore!” said Fudge. “You haven’t got authorization for that Portkey! You can’t do things like that right in front of the Minister of Magic, you — you —”

His voice faltered as Dumbledore surveyed him magisterially over his half-moon spectacles.

“Goodbye, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore before activating portkey activated, and he was whisked away.

Leaving behind the destroyed Atrium from the unseen duel, which also became the venue for some bloody and unfortunate news.

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FictionOnlyReader(Past) – Author – Meh, didn’t feel the heat this time as well.

FictionOnlyReader(Present) – Author – The above comment is from the time I wrote this chapter, and at that time, I wasn’t feeling good about my writing (the last few chapters were written in that period). It continues to the end of this volume. Which is the next chapter.

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The link is in the synopsis!