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Magiscape 1
🕑 Added 2023-08-20 14:29:48 +0000 UTCChapter 1. The Black Tower and the Fake Prophecy
October 31, 1981
The ground shook.
The black clouds came out of nowhere in the clear night sky. Thundering and rumbling. The disturbing noise akin to an empty stomach of some colossal beast. Who seemed to have woken up from a deep slumber, and trying to find prey to satiate its hunger.
Crack!
A fissure ran through the floor of the Forbidden Forest. Uprooting trees, stones, and grass alike; destroying everything in its path like a tsunami wave.
The distressed sounds of the animals reverberated throughout the woods as they ran away from the epicentre of this chaos. Their instincts screaming at them to flee and never return.
Spiders, squirrels, and snakes. Unicorns, centaurs and Thestrals. Everything and everyone escaped to save their lives as the forest got enveloped in a rising black miasma. Blanketing the entire area in an unnatural fog that teetered back and forth. Pushing and pulling from the centre of this phenomena. Breathing in and out. Looking like some disgusting facsimile of life.
Suddenly, it stopped moving.
Becoming still.
The mist becoming heavy, lowering to the floor a little.
As if someone pushed it down from above, compressing it.
…
Then it roared.
The scream travelling to Hogwarts and as far as the Hogsmeade village. Prompting everyone to flinch and drop whatever they were holding.
The black fog began churning like a bubbling water. Hissing and frothing.
Fwoosh!
Until it got sucked right back into the centre of this black hole.
The lightning stopped falling. The clouds dissolved into nothing. And the sky cleared, allowing the full moon to shine upon the forest.
In the middle of the forest, a new clearing formed. And standing there, shining in the moonlight, was the Black Tower.
With no birds and animals to provide the usual dean, the silence was deafening. Unnatural and out of place.
The huge double doors of the Black Tower slammed open. And then hundreds of small creatures with blood-red skin and scaly wings rushed out. Chittering and chattering. Giggling and crying.
The horde took to the sky, flying towards the castle.
~xXxXx~
Potter Cottage
Lily stood before the crib with her wand aimed towards the two men, her stance protective and threatening at the same time. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and her throat raw from screaming. Still, she cut an intimidating figure with her green eyes ablaze and her crimson hair swaying in the windless room.
She bared her teeth when the black-haired man stepped forward. “Don’t come near!”
James sighed and raised his arms placatingly. “Listen to me, Lils. We’re not your enemies.”
Scoffing, she surveyed their home, taking in the destruction that could have been avoided.
The walls were blown apart, and people were already gathering outside the cottage to peep in and gossip. The ceiling, too, didn’t look steady and seemed like it would fall any time now. She gulped down the bile when she saw the floor littered with furniture and family photos. Even little Harry’s toys hadn’t been spared, decimated beyond recognition.
Her home had become a battlefield. A ruin. And it was all James’ and Dumbledore’s fault. The old headmaster remained silent under her glare, not interrupting the married couple’s row. Content in allowing James to fight this battle alone.
“And yet, you brought the enemy into our home,” she spat, shivering at the sight of the pale dead body lying between them.
Voldemort was dead. His corpse lay unmoving, his red slitted eyes wide open and unblinking.
They had missed their tragic fate by mere inches, and succeeded in killing the boogeyman. But it shouldn’t have come to that. The Dark Lord was never meant to find them. The Fidelius Charm was supposed to keep them hidden and safe.
“It was the right thing to do,” James answered, his hands clenched at his sides, not denying her accusation. And that just added more fuel to her anger. The bastard had the audacity to act all high and mighty when he didn’t even have the strength to save his family. If Lily hadn’t cast her desperate spell against Voldemort, then they all would have been dead.
“You already knew Pettigrew was the mole, didn’t you? Tell me how much of this was planned?” she roared, trembling, almost ready to cast a lethal curse.
The sudden cry of her son pushed her rage back, and she quickly leaned over the crib and pulled him into her arms.
She held him tight at her bosom and whirled around, glowering at the man that was supposed to be her husband. The thought of Harry dying here tonight because of their foolishness was enough to keep her from letting go of the mounting anger. She didn’t think she would ever be able to give up these negative feelings.
James’ facial expression was complex. There was guilt and then there was concern. There was fear and then there was conviction. He seemed to be cycling through half a dozen emotions, unable to settle on one.
“I knew Peter was a Death Eater even before we made him our secret keeper. The plan was to draw Voldemort in a trap where we can finally end him. We could never hope to fight him in the open. But with careful planning and having home field advantage, we could match him. And that risk paid off. Here’s the Dark Lord, dead and cold.” He explained, pride clear in his voice.
If she wasn’t holding Harry, she would have punched his haughty face. “You pathetic man! We were done for! We would’ve died if I hadn’t sacrificed half my life and magic to blast him with raw power. How does it feel being the reason for your wife’s early death and near squib state?”
James’ eyes widened and he closed the distance between them, trying to hug her. But she kicked him on the shin, making him stumble and fall on his knees.
Towering over him, there was no love or affection on her face, only intense hatred.
His heart sank at the sacrifice she had made. And the sacrifice he had made to vanquish Voldemort.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not. You’d do the same if given the chance again,” she said, her voice laced with regret and anguish. Once, this very trait of his had made her fall for him. But after tonight, the word hero was the worst insult she could throw at someone.
James remained silent as he got back on his feet, his gaze darting to Harry who was watching them all with large green eyes.
“We’ll do everything to restore you back to normal, Lily,” Dumbledore spoke once the violent anger had dissipated, feeling guilty for allowing this to happen. Not everything had gone as planned. They had underestimated Tom. And if not for Lily, they wouldn’t be standing here with only a few broken bones and flesh wounds.
Though if he had known the questions that would follow this attempt at reassurance, then he would have kept mum. Alas, the arrow was fired and there was no taking back.
Lily stiffened and stepped back, away from James, tears spilling down her cheeks as the realisation set in. “At least tell me the prophecy was real. Please, James.”
When only silence greeted her query, she yelled, “Tell me!”
James lowered his gaze to the floor, shuffling from one foot to another. “It was fake. After Snape regretted joining the other side, we gave him the option to help us in killing the Dark Lord. He agreed, and acted his part, relaying the full prophecy. Putting the target on us, all according to the plan.”
Hearing this, a manic laugh escaped her and she clutched her son to her chest, realising what a fool she had been for trusting others.
Her husband betrayed her. Her mentor betrayed her. Even her estranged best friend betrayed her. How was she to put her trust in someone else ever again?
“But everything’s fine now!” James whispered, seeing how his wife was drifting away from him.
She snapped her head at him and tried to kick him in the stomach.
Dumbledore winced, unsure if he should step in.
James was barely able to dodge the kick. “Calm down, Lils. Just take a deep breath.”
“Take a deep breath? Fuck you! My son could’ve died tonight! All because of your hero complex. Tell me, who’d you save, a boat full of innocent children or just Harry?” Lily asked, stilling abruptly as Harry giggled at all the kicking and screaming.
Only if the child knew what a sad day it was. Only if he knew that this was the day he would lose his chance to live with his father.
He grimaced at the abrupt lose-lose question and answered even when he didn’t want to. “I’ll try to save both first… but if I’m able to choose only one, then I’ll prioritise the boat filled with innocent children. That’s the only logical option. However much I love Harry, ten lives are more precious than one.”
Dumbledore, too, nodded. Even he had to make that choice when he buried his feelings and faced his dear friend. The world was a cruel place that forced people to make difficult choices. But to save the world, to become a hero, one must only think about the well being of all. In his long life, he had learnt that society was always more important than a mere individual. And sometimes, you didn’t have the luxury to save both.
The two were surprised that she didn’t explode at him.
Instead, she just nodded, nudging her son’s grinning face with her nose. “I see. It can’t be helped then. Our views are too different for us to live together, to make this marriage work. You’re no longer my husband, James. From this day onwards, I’ll be just Lily Evans and my son Harry Evans. I can’t trust anyone to care for my boy, not even my own husband. If you can’t burn the whole world down for your children, then are you truly a parent?”
Before James could beg her to reconsider, before he could try to change her mind, Professor McGonagall barged into the cottage. “Headmaster! Hogwarts and Hogsmeade are under attack by demons!”
Lily simply wore a plastic smile and apparated away, not interested in risking her life against demons or whatever. All she wanted to do was take a long bath and sleep for two days straight. The world could go burn to cinders for all she cared.
“Mama!” Harry babbled as they appeared in muggle London, squirming in her arms and wanting to get down.
She raised him to her eye level instead, and whispered in a quivering voice. “Just you and me, Harry. From now on, it’s just you and me.”
Chuckling that he tried to wipe her tears, she kissed his head to his loud delight, and made her way to the hotel.
She had her life to plan. But first, she needed a clear head. And only sleep could provide that.
Applying cleaning charms on themselves, she stepped into the modest hotel, almost falling to her face due to sheer exhaustion.
She waved away the concerned staff, cursing her broken magic. How pitiful that even simple charms took so much out of her.
But she would have to get used to it until she found a cure, if she found a cure.
Booking a room, she made her way to the third floor.
~xXxXx~
Hogsmeade
Once upon a time, there was a small idyllic village here, where children from the nearby school came to relax and run away from their usual routine. There were various shops, some popular, some less so. But every student enjoyed their outing here, sometimes even getting surprised by the various secrets this small village managed to hide.
“Lumos!”
But as the Order scanned the village, all they found were silent houses.
There was no one here.
Not a single witch or wizard was left alive.
It was practically a ghost town; hundreds of people had been simply massacred.
Now all that lay here were mutilated corpses.
“The demons first tried to attack Hogwarts. But the wards propelled them away. So they rushed here instead and killed every man, woman, and child,” Professor McGonagall whispered, picking up a broken wand from a small pool of blood.
Everyone was trying to keep their food down as they stared at the butchered bodies, waving their illuminated wands around. Some lay on the road in twisted positions while some were flung over the trees and roofs.
There was a headless woman slumped against a nearby door with her child cradled in her arms, doing her best to protect him.
Alas, the poor child was dead too, his back shredded by claws.
James gritted his teeth, halting at the sight of the woman’s head. He gently gathered it in his arms, uncaring of the dripping blood, and carried it towards the body, resting it on her neck, using magic to rejoin them. Not that it would do her much good, but at least her body was in one piece now.
Then there was a mountain of bodies in the village centre, piled upon one another like some throwaway trash, where the people had assembled and tried to fight off the attackers.
Blood and limbs were strewn around the heap as a sign of the demons’ cruelty, making it difficult to navigate without stepping on the brave heroes.
It was unfortunate that the courage of these brave heroes wasn’t enough to overcome this.
He ordered everyone to repair all the dead bodies that they come across. That was the only thing they could do for them, giving them proper funeral rites.
The members of the Order checked every single house and every single corner in the hopes to rescue someone, but they found none alive.
Everyone was dead, there was no going around that fact.
“They should have apparated away,” James hissed, kneeling before the body of an old woman, gently closing her lifeless eyes.
Professor McGonagall shook her head, her face wet from tears. “There was some dark magic trapping them here. We tried to help them but couldn’t even enter. All we could do was look in horror and listen to their desperate screams as they wept for help—”
James hugged her as she broke into sobs. It was the first time he had seen his favourite teacher in such distress. And her reaction was reasonable, considering she had just watched an entire village cut to pieces. He didn’t think he would have been much better in her place.
He glanced at Dumbledore. And froze.
The old headmaster’s face was blank under the Wand Lighting Charm. He was silent and calm. But his eyes, his stormy blue eyes revealed his true feelings. “Where did they come from?”
Dumbledore’s voice was barely audible, and yet he could swear he would have heard him from miles away. McGonagall broke away from him, giving his shoulder a grateful squeeze before addressing the headmaster’s question.
“They came from the Forbidden Forest. From a black tower that wasn’t there before.”
In the far distance, the tapering top of the black monument was visible even from here, even at night. The stones of the tower were somehow darker than the night itself, glistening in the moonlight, looking as if it was the only real thing in this realm of shadows.
It was bigger than even the tallest towers of the castle, piercing the clouds like a thin, delicate rapier.
Craning their necks, they tried to find the top, but their effort was in vain. There was no end to the Black Tower. It was unending, or so it appeared.
“I’ll go inspect it. In the meanwhile, contact the Ministry.”
Dumbledore’s strides were measured and unhurried as he moved away from the group. The sound of his footsteps were soft thunder in the silent valley, heralding the coming rainstorm. People parted to make way, averting their gazes, unable to look at his glacial eyes for more than a second.
James tried to follow him, but the old man vanished in a big flash of fire that enlightened the area for a brief moment. Its heat wafted through them, chasing away the chill and leaving a charged atmosphere.
Fawkes’ call of war resounded through the dark village, making their hearts soar and beat like marching drums.
They traded glances and hushed questions, not knowing why they were even trying to be silent. A strange sense of unease pervaded their minds and their racing pulses vibrated from excitement, from unadulterated trepidation.
Something grand was going to happen. And while their minds were unaware, their bodies noticed the change, preparing to fight or flee.
Boom… boom… boom…
It was the rhythmic call their hearts answered, affected by the rising tension.
And suddenly, a roar shook the very earth and they lost their footing.
Far away, the Black Tower was burning with blue fire.
An enormous dragon made of sapphire flames coiled around the base and quickly made its way up, slithering and rushing towards the starry heavens, blasting the windows and filling in from every entrance and hole.
James jumped to his feet and stared at the spectacle with an open mouth, remembering why Dumbledore was lauded as the strongest wizard of the era.
The tower burnt.
It was a beacon in the dark, flames dancing and lapping at it, spilling molten rocks like candle wax; and the fire jumped from tree to tree, decimating a large section of the Forbidden Forest.
He didn’t expect anything would be left standing in that area, other than a charred wasteland.
~xXxXx~
Today should have been a day of celebration.
A day where people cried in relief, a day where they rushed out into the streets to celebrate the end of a terror, where they hugged each other and laughed hysterically, proclaiming a new era of peace.
But here he was, standing before the tower, pouring all his anger and frustration into the hellfire, hoping it would take away the sorrow and anguish.
His wand hand trembled from the sheer power he was releasing, but the Elder Wand sang in exhilaration, spewing out fire that could burn anything and everything.
He watched the Black Tower enshrouded in it, the gluttonous flames licking at its melting surface, making some parts crumble and fall into the growing pool of magma. But there was no sense of satisfaction in his eyes, only pure disappointment in how the night turned out.
Voldemort was dead.
And he was not happy.
He couldn’t be when the entirety of Hogsmeade was gone.
Including Aberforth. His estranged brother.
A single tear rolled down his cheek, evaporating before it could even reach his beard.
How he wished he could have been with Aberforth in his last moments. How he wished they were reconciled before this tragedy took place. He wouldn’t even have minded dying with him here, but he had been left to find his missing limbs and try to make the body whole instead.
One more regret added to the ever expanding list.
Now he was alone. Truly alone.
Before he could drown deeper, he was quickly pulled away from his maudlin thoughts as the Fiendfyre tried to break free of the constraints and consume the whole forest.
Steadying his will and burying his sorrows, he cut off the connection and marched towards the burnt tower, surprised that it was still standing.
The giant double doors were gone, not impeding his march.
He stopped once entering and illuminated his wand, waving it around to get a good look.
The chamber was far bigger from the inside, and cylindrical in design. The walls rose to infinity in upward direction, and encompassed a ridiculous amount of area. It was large enough to comfortably house hundreds of people.
He coughed, and pressed his sleeve to his nose, the stench of burnt flesh too overpowering. He wished he could say this was the first time he experienced the foul smell of charred bodies. But war had made him get used to many things. A battlefield brimming with smouldering bodies was one of them.
Before him lay hundreds of blackened bodies. They were so burnt that a single touch would make them crumble and turn their forms into mounds of ashes.
Not wanting to traverse through these corpses and scatter ash everywhere, he tugged the bond connecting to his familiar.
Raising his arm, he mentally called Fawkes.
The phoenix trilled and perched on his arm before disappearing in a fiery blaze. They reappeared on the other side, after the sea of dead demons and before the small sets of steps leading up the throne.
“So, you are the one responsible for the destruction of my army.” A woman’s voice startled him.
He whipped his wand towards the throne where a black-haired woman was lounging in a royal seat. How he had missed her, he didn’t know. It wasn’t as if she blended into shadows and had been hiding. Far from it, she was striking and conspicuous even in the dark.
Her hair was scraped up and bound in a tight bun, a long silver pin glinting from the light of lumos. And her eyes were blood-red, just like her lips, gleaming with intrigue.
An elaborate black dress wrapped around her curvaceous body, accentuating her bust without looking too vulgar. With her leg crossed over the other and her hands elegantly folded in her lap, she looked like a perfect queen.
“Who’re you?” Dumbledore asked, fixing her with a blank look and dispelling the lighting charm as fire exploded in the braziers, brightening up the dark chamber.
Her light brown skin glowed in the radiance of fire, and her lips curved up in a lazy smile. “I am Belphegor. The mistress of this tower. Who are you, intruder?”
“I’m Albus Dumbledore. May I ask why you attacked us?” he said, his body taut like a bowstring, ready to fight any second. And the name Belphegor sounded familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he had heard it.
Belphegor shrugged, leaning sideways in the throne, against the left armrest. “I did not attack anyone. My minions went off their own. You cannot blame me for their rash actions.”
Dumbledore gripped his wand tighter at the blame shifting. “What are you?”
“I am a demon lord who has been pulled away from her world by some summoner.” She yawned, feeling too lazy to lie.
Dumbledore froze, remembering where he had heard the name Belphegor. It was from some muggle mythology or religion if he was correct. Still, he couldn’t recall anything about it.
His anger was slowly overtaken by fear and apprehension. Now that he was rational enough, he could easily assume that the woman before him was someone incredibly strong. Someone who he couldn’t fight head-on. She had resisted the destruction of Fiendfyre with ease after all.
He had to be careful. He wouldn’t survive a fight with some demon lord. He would have to be diplomatic and focus on gaining information, even when all he wanted to do was avenge the innocent people.
For the good of his people, he had to ignore his rage. “Who summoned you?”
“A desperate mother wanting to save her child. That is all the information I can offer, intruder,” She said, curious about his sudden paling face. “And my task here is done. Someone named Voldemort is already dead. Now, if you will excuse me, I will return to my world.”
“Wait—”
“Please show yourself out. You need not worry about any more attacks. You have killed those who wronged you. I will consider us even and won’t declare a war against your world for barging into my tower and destroying my minions.” Belphegor waved at him and he was flung out through the entrance. She was eager to be done with the mishap and sleep for a decade or two.
The next instant, there was no Black Tower in the charred section of the Forbidden Forest, only a confused Dumbledore lying on his back.
~xXxXx~
Lily was sleeping in the hotel room with Harry nestled in her arms. She had just fallen asleep after calming the energetic toddler. Although his antics were exhausting, they always managed to put a smile on her face.
Tonight was no different. His toothy smile had spread a soothing balm over her turbulent soul. While the pain was still there, it was easier to ignore. That was the power of her adorable son.
Though her peaceful slumber was soon to be disrupted.
It was not even a minute after she fell asleep that a loud knock caused her to startle awake.
She scowled and slipped off the bed, glad that Harry was still asleep. As she opened the door to hiss at the hotel staff for disturbing her at this hour, her words got tangled in her throat, and all that left was a confused gasp. “James?”
Her former husband pushed past her and whirled around, facing her.
Closing the door, she turned to him.
There was anger and hate in his eyes, which surprised her. She had thought that he would be sad and desperate when he found her, begging and crying on his knees to take them back. But here he was, seeming ready to slap her.
She would have thought the reason for the anger would be the possession of Harry. That he was mad because she took him away without a proper conversation between them. But he hadn’t spared their son a single glance, opting to just glower at her.
“Why did you kill them?”
“What! Who did I kill?”
“Everyone! You killed everyone in Hogsmeade! You summoned a demon to kill Voldemort who then went on a rampage that cost so many lives!”
“What the fuck are you blabbering about?”
Their screaming woke up Harry, who was understandably displeased by the loud voices pulling him from dreamland and began crying. She rushed to him and held him in her embrace, muttering soft whispers.
Seriously? What was wrong with James? Blaming her for who knows what.
When she turned around with her son in her arms, James was slumped against the door, tears dripping from his eyes.
“Tell me what happened?” she asked in a tender voice, unable to stop her chest from aching at his despairing state. It was annoying that even after his screw ups she couldn't help feeling bad for him. The love she held for him wouldn’t just vanish in a day after all. It would take a long time and separation before she could finally start seeing him as just another man.
He stopped staring at his hands and looked up at her, his eyes softening at the sight of their son.
“Dada!”
James smiled gently, trying to find words to reply back to his beloved son. In the end, his smile gradually shrunk and he couldn’t say anything, remembering the reason for his visit, remembering the tragedy that occurred due to his wife.
“Tell me what happened? I need to know why you think I summoned some demon.”
In response to that, words bubbled out freely. And the more he talked, the more horrified Lily became.
“I did not summon anything or anyone. I can even tell you the spell I used to give up half my life and magic. It was sacrificial in nature and wasn’t summoning of any sort. You’re jumping to wrong conclusions. This Belphegor is lying.”
James shook his head. “Something must have gone wrong with your spell. There was indeed a sacrifice, but it wasn’t just yours. An entire village lost their lives due to your selfish desire to keep Harry alive. We should’ve better died at Godric’s Hollow. Then you wouldn’t have so much blood on your hands.”
There was no heat in his voice, just soul-crushing sorrow.
She bit back the urge to yell at him, keeping her tone steady so as not to scare Harry. “First of all, I did not summon anyone. Stop blaming me blindly. And secondly, it was you who baited Voldemort. Go become a fucking martyr if you want to, but don’t drag me and my son in this scheme. You have no right to sacrifice our lives.”
James chuckled self-deprecatingly. “True. But that doesn’t justify you sacrificing so many people. Perhaps, you didn’t do it intentionally. Perhaps you just made a mistake. But that still ended up snuffing out so many lives. Fathers, mothers, children, entire families are gone because of you.”
“Fine. Be that way. Don’t believe me. Now get lost, or are you going to arrest me on the basis of a speculation, Auror Potter,” she whispered dangerously, getting fed up with the hypocrite.
“No. I’m just here to say that you were right. We’re too different to make this marriage work. Our morals and our way of thinking are opposite. You would burn the world for your child, which I cannot. It was a lovely short marriage, Lily. But it’s the end of us.” Saying that, he flounced out of the room, not heeding Harry’s cry of ‘dada’.
Lily sighed, tightening her hold on her son, trying to calm him down.
This felt irrevocable now. It felt final. There was no going back.
It brought both relief and pain.
~xXxXx~
Snape packed his bags before shrinking and pocketing them.
He had decided to leave the Isles and relocate somewhere else. Where? He still didn’t know, but anywhere was better than this rotten country.
It wasn’t as if he would be leaving anyone behind. The only woman he ever cared for vehemently hated him. And he wasn’t some pathetic dunce who’d devote his entire life to wait for her forgiveness. He wasn’t that far gone.
He had loved her once, he would admit, but now she had become just a mere acquaintance. He was still fond of her, of course. But his affections for her had dwindled into nothing the more they remained estranged.
Maybe that was why he hadn’t made much fuss for Lily’s safety when Potter asked him to deliver a false prophecy to the Dark Lord and put her in danger. While he hadn’t meant her any harm, he had been ready to risk it to free himself from the shackles he so foolishly put on under peer pressure. But he was relieved that the bet paid off and she survived. Though looking at the headline of the Daily Prophet, he also felt sympathy for her.
HERO OR VILLAIN?
He-who-must-not-be-named defeated, but at what cost?
The article credited her with the Dark Lord’s death, but it also questioned whether she was involved in the ‘Massacre of Hogsmeade’. While it didn’t outrightly blame her, it threw a lot of dirt on her. Specifically highlighting how Lily Evans was researching different sorts of magics in her apprenticeship under the Unspeakables, before the war forced her to abandon her studies.
He shook his head. Now the entire Britain would be out for her blood. It didn’t matter if she really summoned the demon horde or not, all that mattered was the scapegoat was found. He didn’t think she would be able to live in the magical world. She might be forced to hide in the muggle world. He would’ve offered his help if he didn't know how stubborn she was. She’d rather die than seek his aid.
Whatever, he didn’t care enough to stay behind to look after her; she can reap what she sow.
