Year 2 Part 3

  … …

  As my eyes blinked open, I found myself staring up at the ceiling. One that wasn’t familiar to me. The walls were high, arching above me like I’d expect in a muggle church. Intricate carvings that I couldn’t quite make out were in the exposed wooden frame that appeared to be supporting the weight of the roof, but I suspected weren’t. The walls to either side of my bed and behind were large, reaching from about the height of the bed I was on and rising to a point where the roof began to arch inwards, further adding to the image of a cathedral. Yet I could faintly sense the magic in the room, meaning I wasn’t in such a place. Thank Merlin.

  I tried to move, but my body felt unresponsive, and as I looked up at the detailed ceiling, my mind flashed back, remembering the red light I’d seen before I’d lost consciousness. Replaying the moment over in my head quickly, I understood that I’d been struck by a variant of the Stunning Charm.

  I knew the sensation of when it struck me from my training before coming to Hogwarts, and had been shown ways to minimise the effect and duration of the base charm by my aunt Moire. Yet it was clear that none of that had helped me retain any sense of presence after the charm struck me. What also stood out was that the general tingling in my extremities that occurred when I recovered from the Stunning Charm was absent, and while my body wasn’t responding to my commands, I felt rejuvenated.

  A gentle shifting against my right side caught my attention, and I fought to turn my head. That allowed me to see other beds lined up around the walls of the room I was in. Each had a small desk and stool beside it, though from what I saw of the beds to my right, none were empty. Still, the sight of the school crest on the wall further down the room had me relieved to understand I was in the Medical Ward of Hogwarts and not somewhere else.

  My eyes drifted down, and I saw that the reason I’d felt something shift was that Xenocrates was curled up in the crook of my arm. I lifted my arm, the limb slow to respond but better than when I’d first woken up, and ran my hand gently over his fur. “Hey there, boy, when did you get here? Better yet, how did I end up here?” I asked, shifting my eyes back to the ceiling and drifting into my memories.

  As expected, Xeno offered no response beyond a gentle, pleased purr and with nothing to do, I slipped back into my memories, focusing on the few seconds before I was struck by the Stunning Charm. As I watched it occur again, I heard a faint sound; something I’d missed in the moment, but now, with time to review the memory, I recognised it as something similar to the sound of a shoe possibly scuffling over the stone floor of the corridor I’d been walking through before being stunned.

  Within my mind, I rewound the memory slowly, using my Occlumency training to begin examining the memory in far greater detail than I’d have otherwise been able to do. Again, the last ten or so seconds that had passed before I’d been rendered unconscious played out before me, this time at a rate a dozen times slower.

  Most of what I saw was black, as I wasn’t aware of what had gone on behind me. However, just before I turned, I focused in on the sound of the shoe. Replaying the fraction of a second over and over, I was able to confirm it was a shoe that had grazed against a section of the stone that covered the tunnels of Hogwarts.

  The sound wasn’t particularly clear; however, it appeared that it was a deeper sound. Perhaps suggesting the creator of that sound was larger and carried more bulk than I did. The quick examination of the memory in the seconds before I heard the shoe scraping confirmed that it was a deeper sound than the one I generated.

  That, unfortunately, wasn’t saying much as my shoes were charmed to quieten my steps. An enhancement I’d added over the summer. However, comparing the sound I and others had made in memories from First Year as we walked around the lower levels to that of the one I’d heard just before turning allowed me to determine that it was deeper. That suggested someone larger and thus older than me.

  Returning to the memory before I blanked out, I paused it as the red light came into view. It was already close, and while it certainly appeared to be a stunning charm, the light was more intense than those I cast. Perhaps that meant it had altered slightly with the use of a suffix to enhance its potency.

  The light was also higher than I might otherwise suspect. While some of that came from it conceivably being cast from the top of a set of stairs that were ten metres behind me at the moment this memory was frozen, it wasn’t certain. There was the chance, one backed up by the deeper sound of the shoe, that meant the caster might simply have been taller than me. Not massively, but enough that if I worked along this hypothesis, then it was conceivable the one who had cast the spell was in the senior years, or maybe even a tall Fourth Year.

  I watched the fraction of a second that passed from me first spotting the red light to the end of the memory over and over while my hand slid along Xeno’s spine, drawing comfort from the touch. There was nothing in those last few moments that offered any hint as to who ha…

  Wait!

  There!

  Right as I began to fall. There was another fractional burst of sound. What sounded like the beginning of a shoe again scuffling over stone. No, wait. There was more than one sound there. I couldn’t be certain how many had been involved, but I was fairly confident that there had been more than one assailant.

  I played the moment over and over, seeking to determine what the other faint, incomplete sounds were that, in that fraction of a second before my mind was shut down by the charm that had struck me, had started to begin. After a dozen replays of the moment, I was no closer to determining what those sounds might be. The chance that I’d managed to catch someone speaking, even if it was just a single word, was unlikely, but it did, as the number of rewatches passed thirty, that someone had begun to speak even as I fell.

  The voice, if that was what it was, was deeper than mine. Deeper than any of those in my year, or potentially most of Third Year. I was certain that if this was a voice, then the speaker was male. However, there wasn’t enough of a sound to easily recognise who had spoken.

  The rest of the memory, at least in the fraction of a second that had passed from me hearing the scuffle of a shoe to being struck by the charm, revealed nothing else. At least not without me delving deeper into it, examining it as slowly as my mind had managed to process the event. I also wanted to review everything that I’d seen, heard, and smelled last night. Perhaps there was something in the extended memory that would hint at when I’d passed my attackers if they had lain in wait for me, or if they had followed me.

  I had not hidden that I headed out early each morning to exercise, though I did vary how I moved about and what I did. However, there were certain points in the corridors and dungeons that I had to pass through to make the most efficient use of my movements to and from the Slytherin Chambers.

  Based on that, the odds were that I had been followed. Perhaps not by all of them, but at least one who would act as a scout to confirm my route. The rest would then lie in wait if I headed towards the junction where they were gathered. The scout would then trail behind to ensure none were coming from there, while another would take position further forward to protect them from discovery from that direction.

  Yet, within my mindscape, I frowned. If that was the case, then I was uncertain how I ended up in the Medical Ward. The torc had not heated up while I’d been walking, suggesting that I wasn’t in clear danger. Of course, a stunning spell cast without malice wouldn’t cause the torc to react. Something that my Aunt Moire had demonstrated when she had one of her fellow DMLE employees strike me with a very weak Stunning Charm.

  I opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling again, the frown that I’d worn in my mindscape forming on my face as well. I had hypothesised as to what had happened, or at least how I’d been ambushed. However, without more information, I was unable to determine who had attacked me, nor, for the moment, how and why I was in the Medical Ward.

  My head lifted as I saw the door to the massive room, one in which I now saw I was the only patient. As I watched, two members of the staff walked in. Matron Pomfrey I recognised as she had handled the introduction to the Medical Ward during our first week in First Year. The one beside her, while bearing the badge of a medical healer – the Caduceus of the gods Hermes and Mercury – wasn’t someone I’d seen before.

  “Ah, you’re awake, good,” the unknown man said as he came closer, a warm, grandfatherly smile on his face. “I had expected you to wake at some point today, though perhaps not this early.” His gaze shifted to Xeno, who had shifted and was now looking at the approaching figures while still allowing me to stroke his back. “Perhaps an effect of your familial bond,” The man commented good-naturedly. “It is not uncommon for a wizard or witch to gain benefits from a familiar, though with the raiju being a creature unknown to me, I cannot say if that is the reason.”

  I nodded, accepting his words even as I suspected that it was my fleshcarved arrays that had allowed me to recover faster than this man expected. “Ho…” I stopped, grimacing as my throat felt as if I’d eaten tacks, with pain erupting along every point within.

  “One moment,” Madam Pomfrey said, and as I watched, she moved to a nearby table, collecting a jug and mug. As she poured some water into the mug, the man came closer and lifted his wand. He cast a silent spell, and I watched as light formed over my body.

  The patterns weren’t ones I knew, but as the man hummed as he looked at them, I could tell they were some sort of medical diagnostic charm designed to determine my condition. “It appears that you are fine. The breaks and bruises are all healed. Still, I will allow you to stay for the rest of today in the ward so that I might observe you and so that others can speak to you privately.”

  I opened my mouth to ask who, only to stop as I remembered the pain that trying to speak had caused last time. The man chuckled even as Madam Pomfrey came closer and, along with using magic – wandlessly cast it seemed – to lift my bed so I was seated, and then placed the mug to my lips. “Drink slowly,” she said as Xeno shifted, sending a glare at Pomfrey for making the bed move and forcing him to change his position.

  “I assume you were about to ask who wishes to speak with you?” the man began, and I nodded slightly while sipping the water, while Xeno crawled onto and settled down into my lap. That wasn’t the first thing I wanted to know, but it was something worth hearing. “That would be Headmaster Dumbledore, along with a representative of the DMLE.” My brow rose at that last part, as while I half-expected a staff member, though perhaps not the Headmaster, having an Auror or someone similar come was odd. “While your injuries were nothing serious, something your elf perhaps helps to ensure, you were still attacked. Beyond the fact that such behaviour isn’t tolerated within Hogwarts or the surrounding district, you are under the direct protection of the Wizengamot. That means the matter cannot be ignored or overlooked, no matter how much Al…” He paused there as Madam Pomfrey shot a glare at him. “I mean that because of your status, they have to investigate the matter carefully.”

  “Ma-kes sen-se,” I managed to get out after Pomfrey pulled the cup back. “How lo-ng?”

  “Three days.” My brow shot up at hearing that. “While the injuries you suffered weren’t severe, you did have multiple broken bones and bruising. Mainly from blunt force trauma. The DMLE Investigators seemed pleased to hear that, though I’ll let them explain things once they arrive later.” The man moved closer and placed a hand on the bottom of my bed. “I suspect that the Headmaster will ask that you keep the details of this internal. However, it would be wiser to ensure that the DMLE is given a full recount of events. Students attacking other students isn’t as uncommon as I or my staff would like. However, your position means the matter should not be simply swept under the rug.”

  “Yes, Hea-ler…”

  The man chuckled. “Ah, yes, as a Second Year and not someone considering a path in medicine, we haven’t been formally introduced.” He lowered his head slightly. “I’m Healer Damien Draycott, head of the medical staff at Hogwarts. The woman helping you to drink is Matron Poppy Pomfrey, senior nurse at the school.”

  After Pomfrey pulled the cup back from my lips again, I nodded in return. “Thank. You. For. Your. Help,” I said slowly, each word coming out further apart than ideal. While my throat was getting better, it still irritated me when I spoke. However, I needed to learn more about what had happened to me. “How. Did. I. Get. Here?”

  “You were brought here because you were injured,” Draycott explained with a smirk, one that hinted he felt that should be obvious. “As for the exact details of what happened, I will tell you what I know.

  “You were brought in by Professor Hunt along with two Prefects of your house. You were found near the Slytherin chambers by some of your fellow students; your familiar there alerted them to the fact that you were in danger and then guided them to you.”

  I nodded even as a small frown formed on my brow. Xeno had been in the chambers, remaining behind when I went for my morning exercise. I couldn’t be sure where he had been or who he’d been with, but if he’d not been snoozing still upon my bed, he’d have either been with Bellatrix or possibly with Vesta Malfoy.

  The latter girl had grown fond of Xeno and often brought him treats. She wasn’t the only girl in our year or house to do so – several females in Third and Fourth Year were doing likewise – but outside of the Black sisters, Vesta was one of the few Xeno seemed to trust enough to allow her to pet him without me present. I didn’t trust her myself and already suspected why she and the other girls were offering Xeno treats and spending more time speaking to me. However, that was an issue for another time.

  “From there, the students alerted the prefects, who summoned a Professor. Interestingly, your House Elf arrived before the Professors and if not for the words of one of the prefects, would not have stepped aside willingly to allow Professor Hunt and one of the school nurses to examine and then bring you here.”

  I smirked at hearing Kadic had responded. While the torc hadn’t warned me of any danger before the spell was cast, at least not beyond the general background potential threats that lingered for me in Hogwarts, it seemed that once I was struck by the Stunning Charm, he had reacted. That was in response to my failure last year when Aífe Mac Uidhir had captured me and taken me into the Fearann na Scáthanna so we could speak.

  There again, the torc hadn’t warned me of an imminent threat, so I’d been caught unaware. When reviewing that first meeting with Aífe, it was clear I’d never truly been in danger. At least not enough for the torc to react heavily to warn me. Given that at the time I was restrained by Shadow Magic, even if the torc had warned me, there was fuck-all that I could’ve done. That was why I was now less reliant on the torc to warn of danger that wasn’t outright threatening – hence why my paths around the school when moving alone weren’t the same ones over and over – and why Kadic was on alert to respond if I did find myself in grave danger. Or at least more than he had been until Aífe took me for our chat.

  I knew I couldn’t rely on Kadic forever, but it was another layer of protection that I had in place. One that, while not instantaneous, seemed to have, along with Xeno, ensured that I escaped from my attackers before they could do any true damage. OR at least it felt that way.

  “How. Badly. Was I. Hurt?”

  “It seems that those who attacked you, and I will not and cannot get into details of that until after the DMLE Investigator has spoken to you, chose to strike you with spells, or perhaps even fists and feet, that wouldn’t instantly kill. Your injuries were all relatively minor for magic and potions to heal, but if you had not been found by your familiar and then the elf, it is probable that you might well have died from them soon enough.”

  “Healer Draycott!” Pomfrey scolded. “Do you think that is appropriate information to be telling a Second Year?”

  “Normally not, Poppy. However, Mister MacLeod is not your average Second Year. He has already seen death, I’m afraid, and from what I have heard from Professor Jacox, he is able to see Thestrals. I see no reason to sugarcoat the matter with the student. Not when the Investigator is going to ask some rather pointed questions once they arrive.”

  “I understand that, but we have to consider that even with everything that he has seen, he is still a boy,” Pomfrey countered. “Hinting at what he’s endured might only bring that trauma back to the surface.”

  “I’m fine, Miss Pomfrey,” I said, slipping into the conversation as Pomfrey moved the mug away from my lips. “While I miss my family, I have come to accept that I cannot bring them back. My aunts ensured that I sought help and made sure to tell me stories of my parents so that I wouldn’t forget them.” My throat was feeling better now, but getting all that was still a strain.

  Pomfrey fixed me with a gaze; one that suggested she was pleased to hear I was doing well, but also perhaps sceptical that I was as recovered as I stated. “That is good to hear. Still, it is better not to return to such memories, as they only bring forth sorrow and hate. Something someone your age shouldn’t be burdened with.”

  I smiled in thanks for her words and then took another sip of the water as she brought it back to my mouth.

  “Regardless, there is nothing more we are allowed to divulge to you until after the Investigator has spoken with you,” Draycott stated, a small smile appearing on his face, giving him the air of a fun uncle or grandfather. “Until they arrive, you will be staying here without visitors. I suggest that you rest and recuperate.” He gestured to a small table on my left, and when I looked there, I saw a pile of parchment. “Your professors have left notes on the classwork you have missed while recovering here. However, based on your grades, I suspect that nothing there is unknown to you,” he added as the smile grew.

  “Perhaps.”

  Draycott laughed heartily. “There’s the Slytherin I expected.” He nodded at Pomfrey. “I will alert the Headmaster that the student is aware, and thus leave him in your skilled care, Poppy.”

  Pomfrey nodded in understanding, and as she moved the mug away from my lips, Draycott offered me a nod. Without waiting for a response, he turned sharply and moved towards the far end of the room and the door that led out of this room.

  “It will be a few hours until the Headmaster and Investigator arrive,” Pomfrey stated, drawing my attention. “Until then, try to relax and don’t think too much about what happened.”

  I smiled at her, offering a nod of acceptance, though that was a ruse. I’d spent time going over the memory before she and Healer Draycott had arrived, and I would be spending the time until Dumbledore and the DMLE employee arrived to examine not just the memory again, but others in the hope that I might be able to place the partial voice I heard.

  It was a long shot at best, as even if the culprit was a senior Slytherin, I was still looking at three hundred students. Many of those I’d never interacted with or been close enough to hear them speak. However, I had been attacked, and I intended to find the culprits. Not to turn them over to the DMLE, but to return their actions upon them a hundredfold.

  This attack, foiled as it had been, had cost me standing in Slytherin and elsewhere. I would not allow that injustice to remain unanswered. I just had to be cautious about how I went about seeking vengeance, as I had no intention of being caught by anyone once it was time to enact retribution.

  … …

  “I will ask you again, Headmaster, not to offer speculation about the motives of the attackers, nor dismiss the behaviour as a simple case of a disagreement between students. Even ignoring Chief Dòmhnall’s status, a single younger student was assaulted by a group of older students and received injuries that, if not for the alert actions of his familiar and House Elf, might have seen him die.”

  The glare that Investigator Evelin Portman sent Headmaster Dumbledore was one that, behind the walls of my mind, I was both enjoying at the moment and would be sharing with a few others later on. To see the Headmaster so berated within the walls of Hogwarts was something few would ever see.

  What made it so much more delicious was that there was nothing Dumbledore could truly do to counter the Investigator’s comment or the half dozen she’d given him in the last hour since they’d arrived to question me. Yes, Hogwarts was Dumbledore’s domain, but an attack on a student was a serious matter, particularly because of my position and that I was under the direct protection of the Wizengamot.

  Interestingly, from the way Investigator Portman had spoken, the mention of the attack hadn’t come from Hogwarts but from an outside source. I suspected that it was probably Arcturus as Bellatrix was one of the prefects who had summoned Professor Hunt, but I couldn’t be sure. Particularly as Vesta Malfoy had been one of the students to alert the prefects to my condition.

  It seemed that Xeno had been in my room when the attack had begun, but had rushed from it once it started. Vesta, Aline Munro, and Adilene Pontius had noticed him rushing for the exit and headed off after him. There was something else in the report about how Xeno managed to get to me so quickly, but neither Investigator Portman nor Dumbledore had gone into detail there.

  Once Professor Hunt had arrived – he was the on-duty Professor in a study near the Slytherin chambers that prefects were aware of – he had called for the medics, and I’d been taken to the Medical Ward.

  For the last hour, I’d been going over what I remembered, detailing to them my memory of the incident, and even allowed the Investigator to copy it into a memory vial for analysis at the DMLE. Each time that either I or Investigator Portman had suggested this was more than a simple case of bullying, Dumbledore had tried to defend the unknown assailants. I knew he wasn’t suggesting I had brought this on myself, nor that they should be allowed off scot-free, but the same general ‘kids-will-be-kids’ mentality that I remembered reading about being prevalent in him in the other timeline was present here. Something that, like myself, Investigator Portman disliked with a passion.

  “And I will remind you, Investigator, that until it is proven that the students who attacked Mister MacLeod are Fifth Year or higher, then they cannot be treated as criminals. Even then, the attack took place on Hogwarts grounds, which are not under the direct control of the DMLE and have the same protections as the manors and estates of the families of the Wizengamot. They are children who have made a mistake.”

  I bit my tongue, knowing it wouldn’t serve me any purpose to argue with the Headmaster when I still had many years left at Hogwarts. In theory, I could transfer to another school elsewhere in the world, but that would cause me issues with building a powerbase among the generation that rose to adulthood when Voldemort appeared on-screen.

  “This was a premeditated assault, Headmaster!” Portman shot back, her lips shifting slightly as if she couldn’t believe what had just been stated. “Chief Dòmhnall has stated under oath that he doesn’t take the same route to and from his chambers. Something his friends and housemates have confirmed. That meant the attackers had to have lain in wait, and based on the sounds of movement we heard in his memories, it is clear this was a planned ambush. One that was only thwarted by the depth of the bond he shares with his familiar.”

  As if on cue, Xeno hissed gently, though the anger wasn’t directed at the sharp tone of Portman but at Dumbledore. I scratched him at the back of his skull, trying to ease his irritation. It was understandable as he was protective of me after my attack, but I’d rather not have him lash out at the Headmaster. That sort of hassle was one I’d rather avoid.

  “I am not denying any of that, Investigator. I am merely stating that this assault was not one intended to,” Dumbledore glanced my way for a moment before continuing, “murdering a fellow student. Yes, the wounds he suffered were severe, but even a First Year could kill with the spells they have learnt. As the only sign of magic that you could detect had been used against Mister MacLeod with the overpowered Stunning Charm, it is clear they didn’t intend to murder him.”

  “No. It simply proves that those involved understood that using their wands might leave evidence that those in my department could trace.”

  I assumed that Investigator Portman meant the Priori Incantato Charm, as that allowed someone to see the spells or charms used last by a wand. However, from what I knew, the base spell only allowed one to see the previous three spells cast. Perhaps there were more advanced forms of the charm that the DMLE had, but I’d not heard anything to suggest they could do so.

  That said, with the time to consider the matter during this meeting, I could see how it would be wise not to use direct magic to strike someone down. Perhaps after casting, there was a lingering sense of the caster’s magic that someone with the right training could detect. However, in a location like Hogwarts, where magic was so prevalent and where over a thousand students were casting daily, it was unlikely that, if such methods of detection existed, they would be of much use.

  “You assume that students within these walls would place that much foresight into considering the consequences of assaulting a fellow student?”

  Portman nodded. “I do. They have attacked a Chief, an action that, while not something you or your staff place much importance on, carries weight outside the grounds of this castle. Until the perpetrators are caught and forced to explain the reasons for their actions, I will assume the worst of them and treat them as I would any other criminal.”

  The pair held each other’s gaze firmly while I remained silent. Yes, I had a few things I could say, but none would help move along this meeting, one that I suspected was close to finishing, nor anything that would keep me out of Dumbledore’s crosshairs in the coming weeks. He would have others – be they staff, students, elves, or possibly even ghosts – watch me carefully to ensure I wasn’t attacked again.

  It wouldn’t be forever, perhaps no more than a few weeks until the Winter Solstice holiday in a few months; however, it was going to put a crimp on my actions. I’d have to devise new ways to move around without being tracked, and that was before considering the possibility that a school elf would be assigned to shadow me – with or without my knowledge. Heading to the Room of Requirements or even entering the Fearann na Scáthanna, even while in my bedroom in the Slytherin chambers, was all but off the table for the time being. That was, in many ways, more immediately annoying than the fact I’d been attacked and remained unaware of who had been behind it.

  Dumbledore sighed and, as he lowered his head, shook it gently. “It saddens me to see you have become so hardened, Evelin,” he said quietly. “Whatever happened to that sweet, outgoing girl who once roamed these halls wanting to make friends with everyone?”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  I barely avoided visibly reacting to Dumbledore’s words. The way he used memories of a more innocent time to rebuke a member of the DMLE Investigator Core was manipulative, if not a touch underhanded. However, it was a sign that while this Dumbledore appeared, as expected, far more aware of what was going on, he was as manipulative as I suspected.

  “I grew up,” Portman responded before turning to face me. “Thank you for your time, Chief Dòmhnall,” she said before lowering her head slightly. I returned the gesture even as she continued. “Either I or my superior will keep you informed of any news regarding this investigation, and if you remember anything else that might be of use, do not hesitate to contact the DMLE.”

  “Understood.”

  “However, I will be honest with you. Given the lack of information in your memory and the fact that magic flows so heavily within the halls of Hogwarts, it is unlikely that we will be able to make much progress in locating your attackers. I say this now both to avoid you getting any false hope of a quick resolution and so that if you are summoned before the Wizengamot, you can report my statement to them.”

  “Merlin, I hope that doesn’t happen,” I muttered. “The less time I spend around so many stuffy old men, the better I feel.” Portman chuckled at the comment while Dumbledore, as I’d hoped, offered a warm smile of approval. “I’d rather avoid that place for as long as I can. However, I will let your department know, probably via my aunt, if I remember anything further.” I looked at Dumbledore. “I will also inform you, Headmaster, if I feel it is important for the safety of my fellow students.”

  “Excellent, my boy,” Dumbledore commented, his smile widening into that grandfatherly one that, even though I felt it was some form of deception, I expected from him. “I will, to ease both your concerns, along with those of the DMLE, be assigning an elf to monitor your actions while you move around Hogwarts.” He lifted a hand before I could say anything. “While you are in class, the Great Library, or the Slytherin Chambers, you will not be monitored. Those places are ones I consider the safest, and I do not wish to make you feel like I am spying on you.”

  “Can’t think why you’d want to do that,” I stated with what I hoped was a childish grin.

  “Quite, quite.” He moved closer and placed a hand on my shoulder. “While you are only just in your second year here, from what I have been told, your professors are impressed with you. That you do not discriminate against others because of their backgrounds, and even go out of your way to help those you consider friends, regardless of class, is a most admirable attitude. One I wish more of your housemates would adopt.”

  Again, I nodded. “Thank you, Headmaster.” That was all I said, not wanting to linger on the fact I saw through his manipulations on the chance he realised it. “Regardless of where we were born, we all have magic, and that is something to be encouraged.”

  “Well said. Very well said.” He gave my shoulder a squeeze before lifting his hand and turning back to the Investigator. “Unless there is anything else you wish to ask him, I believe we should leave Mister MacLeod alone. His friends are no doubt anxious to speak with him.”

  “Of course, Headmaster,” Portman replied with a slight bow, any hint of the earlier animosity between them slipping away. “Chief Dòmhnall, thank you for your statement and the memory. I assure you that only those involved with the investigation will be allowed access to it and that once the crime is solved, it will be destroyed.”

  I smiled, accepting her words as I had no reason to doubt them. That said, a part of me wanted the case to never be solved. I wanted to handle the punishment myself. However, for that, I’d have to first determine who was responsible and then discover ways to retaliate that wouldn’t be linked back to me. That was going to require considerable planning, but at least it would be an enjoyable way to pass the time in class, as nothing being taught was unknown to me.

  I stayed silent as the pair walked away, my hand running down Xeno’s spine from the top of his head to the start of his tail. As he purred in response, my mind raced through ways to claim my revenge. Most were instantly dismissed, either because the method was impossible for me with my current power and spell repertoire or because, no matter how enjoyable it would be to implement, it was either too unwieldy or unnecessarily grandiose.

  Vengeance would be mine, but I had to be patient. First, I had to find those responsible without tipping my cap and then determine how and when I would enact my response. No matter what Dumbledore said, this attack was one intended to kill me. Perhaps it wasn’t over my title, but it certainly was a threat; one that I simply wouldn’t allow to go unanswered.

  My thoughts on the matter ended as the doors to the ward opened, and instead of seeing one of the nurses or healers, I saw familiar faces approaching. “Shouldn’t you all be in class?” I said, pushing aside a sudden urge to imitate a Bond villain as the group moved closer.

  “We have a free session before dinner,” Godwine Suthsax responded, “and figured that we might as well attempt to inquire as to your status.”

  “Hoping to claim my spot?”

  Godwine chuckled and shook his head as he led the trio, who were all part of the group that had slowly gathered around me over the last year. “I do, but there’s no value in defeating a wounded feline,” he replied with a smile, one that I felt was genuine. “When it comes time to prove my superiority, be it in a class or a duel, I want you at your peak.”

  “Sadly, he’s one of the few to think that way,” Lasadh added, as usual, a book rested in his hands. “Milton, MacLean, and Delaney have already placed internal challenges to duel you for your position next week, while several outside the house are preparing to do so in the duelling clubs.”

  “Hardly a surprise there,” I remarked, still gently petting Xeno down his spine. “Any weakness would be challenged by those unable to target someone when they are at their peak.” Outside of Godwine, those mentioned inside Slytherin weren’t within my slowly forming circle of cohorts, or those who were gathering around Vesta Malfoy, who seemed willing, for now, to ally with my circle.

  Enya Delaney was one of the other power players among Slytherin’s Second Years, finishing third in the house at the end of First Year. That she would seek to use the potential for me to be weakened by this attack to take me down in a duel was something expected, and I couldn’t delay it too long once I was released from the Medical Ward. If I did, it could be interpreted as further weakness on my part, which would only damage my standing more.

  With my choices, even with them having been proven to be effective, of befriending muggleborns, I hadn’t united as much of my house as I’d hoped. Still, I was managing to gather a good base and once recovered from this attack, I could reaffirm my power to the others. I would have to find and eliminate those responsible for the attack, but I wasn’t some foolish lion who’d rush in headfirst without knowing the danger and thus get themselves killed.

  As for the other names mentioned, MacLean was one I wanted on my side, so I’d accept his challenge before the others. Beyond being a fellow Scot from a Highland Clan, and for my plans going forward, the more of the Clans I had onside, the better my odds would be for enacting the changes I wanted once I graduated.

  Milton was, while competent, an odd one. In First Year, he had been heavily focused on Quidditch and had managed to make the junior Slytherin team as a backup this year. Yet for all his passion for the sport, otherwise, he was reserved and withdrawn. However, as one of the top twenty in the entire year at the end of First Year, he wasn’t someone to be ignored. I had planned to try and find a way to ingratiate myself with him this year, perhaps free seats to The Pride of Portree Quidditch matches. I did, after all, own fifty per cent of the team and hadn’t done anything with that possession.

  “Do you know who attacked you?” Lowell Selwyn asked, drawing me from my thoughts.

  “I’ve been asked by the DMLE and Headmaster to not speak on the matter,” I replied, keeping my cards close to my chest. There was a chance that someone in a lower year had been involved with the attack. Those who’d prepared the ambush would’ve needed to be certain I’d left my quarters. Anyone who popped their head in, or even passed by and looked inward to my shared dormitory, who wasn’t a Second Year, would stand out. However, there was a chance the watcher had simply been present in the antechamber as I headed towards the main exit of the Slytherin chambers. “However, I have a few suspicions,” I added, gauging the faces of those before me.

  I wouldn’t learn much, as like myself, they were all at least Level 3 Occlumens – a basic requirement for any born into a seated wizarding Clan or House. As such, the chances that anything would be obvious on their face were remote; not unless it was a ruse designed to divert or draw my attention away from others.

  “If you require help in researching the matter, we would all be willing to assist,” Godwine offered, the other two nodding in agreement.

  “Thank you, however, for now, I feel it is wiser for me to both catch up on my missed lessons,” I gestured at the table with the parchment on it, “and keep such projects internal. Once I have more certainty regarding my attackers, I may take you up on the offer.”

  Godwine smiled in response. “As expected.” He glanced at the parchment. “As for the assignments, the only one that might be a concern relates to Potions. The rest should be, unless something has drastically altered with you because of your attack, as easy as taking candy from a muggle.”

  I smirked, both at hearing nothing that I had to do would take me time, and at the metaphor. It was an odd one which always made me smile. Not least because while there were several good muggle candies and chocolates, the ones in the magical world were by and large superior.

  “Oh, Malfoy insisted that we alert her if you were awake,” Lasadh commented, making the other two smile. “It seems she is concerned about you. Is there, perhaps, an announcement scheduled for the summer of next year?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Even if such discussions had begun with Lord Malfoy, which they haven’t, I’d not tell any of you about it. Nor will I be announcing any betrothal to the public.” I smirked and lifted my hand to my chest while trying to look regal. “Such information is not something the riffraff need to be made aware of.”

  The trio chuckled at my behaviour, though there was a hint of nervous energy from all three. While none were due to inherit the Lordship of their family, each would have spoken over the summer or would do so over the Winter Solstice break, regarding such arrangements.

  Honestly, the fact I’d not been flooded with letters requesting the opening of discussions on such a matter was a relief. There had been several, but all had been put off by the simple response statement that I was far too young to make such a decision currently. That said, I was dreading my thirteenth birthday as I could already see the torrent of owls that would come to Dunscaith with opening offers. The fact that at least a handful of Chiefs and Lords would know that I could take more than one wife due to ancient Celtic traditions only made that fear worse.

  “If anyone is to have such an announcement made, I would assume it would be you, Suthsax. Miss Pontius has been rather fond of your company in this first month.”

  Godwine sighed loudly. “It is a connection my grandfather is considering. House Pontius is one of the oldest and most powerful in the country, and wedding myself to the eldest daughter of their heir would strengthen the bonds between our Houses.” He looked at me with a tiny hint of remorse in his eye. “You are lucky, Dòmhnall, in that you can choose who you wish for.”

  “Shame his eyes seem to be on those already taken,” Lowell snarked. “The eldest Black daughter is already betrothed to the Lestrange heir.”

  “Bellatrix and her sisters are simply cousins, and she was asked to tutor me by Lord Black,” I responded. “I have no interest in anything with her like that.” I kept my tone as calm as I could; however, I wouldn’t deny that Bellatrix was growing into a beautiful woman and a powerful one at that. She was wasted being placed with Rodolphus. However, the fact that I was being tutored by Bellatrix was a major reason why he was my prime candidate for orchestrating the attack on me.

  I had no proof of that as of yet, and I didn’t feel he would have been directly involved. However, the chances that the orders or suggestions came from him were, at least based on what little information I had, high. As far as I knew, no one else in the elder years held any grudge against me or my Clan.

  “I hadn’t realised your focus had shifted to the older years, Selwyn. Might that explain why your grades have already slipped?”

  I chuckled at Lasadh’s statement, glad to shift the topic away from betrothals, or more specifically, those focused on me. They’d never go away, not until I allowed such a thing to be made public, and as I had little intention of stating such a thing openly – it only placed a target on their head in the coming years – I’d have to grin and bear it.

  The door to the ward opened, and one of the nurses stuck her head inside. “The bell for the end of the period has just sounded,” she said, making me realise that the entire time I’d been awake inside the room, I’d not heard the bell marking the end of a period. No, I had heard it once, but that had been when the door was open and the sound had been distant. “Unless you’re skipping your meal, I suggest you head to the Great Hall soon.”

  “Thank you,” Lowell replied, lowering his head in acknowledgement.

  All three turned to me even as the nurse moved away, but left the door open. “Go on. They’ll bring me something soon, as I’m stuck here until the Healer releases me.”

  “Very well. We can return after dinner if you’d like?”

  “No, no,” I answered Godwine. “I think I’ll be out tomorrow at the latest, so there’s no need for all of you to go out of your way.”

  “Very well.” Godwine offered a nod before heading towards the door. The other two did likewise, and I was left, as the door closed behind them, with nothing more than my thoughts once again.

  It seemed that I no longer had the protection of innocence or time before others began to target me. Outside of Rodolphus Lestrange, there was no one I could think of who held anything close to a viable grudge against me. Yet I had been targeted anyway.

  Perhaps this was in some way linked to the Summer Solstice Massacre when I’d lost the rest of my family. However, I was reluctant to believe that. Acting against me in Hogwarts over such a thing was a dangerous choice, and I was far from the only survivor at the school. Merlin, Iona MacKenzie and Callum MacGregor – though the latter was now graduated – had been presumptive leaders of their clans and students at Hogwarts for years. I’d never heard of them being targeted, at least not anything suggesting they’d spent time in the Medical Ward because of an attack.

  That left me, as I had already realised, with a very short list of candidates. Beyond Lestrange, Amycus Carrow was an option. The issue was that from everything I’d seen from Carrow in First Year, a sneak attack wasn’t his preferred option. He had always enjoyed direct confrontation, generally with witnesses so that, on the remote chance he won an argument, others would see.

  Perhaps he had changed over the summer, but there were no cadet branches of House Carrow or even that many students from vassal houses in the upper years of Hogwarts. Yet until I saw proof of him evolving his approach, he would be down the list, short as it was, of potential suspects.

  After those two, there were a few names that were even worth mentioning. Perhaps Jason Flint, as Xenocrates had beaten up that boy’s kneazle to become the top feline in the Slytherin Chambers, was an option, but it seemed unlikely. Choosing to attack me with friends over such a seemingly trivial matter would be an odd choice.

  Another was Andrew Richardson. He was a Fifth Year in Slytherin who was very vocally anti-muggleborn, perhaps the most fervent speaker against the presence of muggleborns in Hogwarts. Targeting me over my friends, there might be something he’d consider if he felt my profile, and that of the muggleborns I was tutoring, was growing too large for his pleasure.

  Since that was the extent of the possible known candidates, there was a high chance that I had a new adversary, one that was unknown and older. Given the location of my attack, the probability was high that it was someone within Slytherin, though I couldn’t discount the other houses.

  “Well,” I muttered to Xeno as he lifted his head to look up at me, “at least this gives me something to do for the year.”

  … …

  … …

  “Dom!”

  I chuckled at the loud calling of my name, or at least a pet form of it, and at the First Year running towards me. “Hello áine,” I said as my cousin wrapped her arms around my waist and placed her head against my chest. “I’m fine,” I added, patting her at the base of her neck on her back.

  “I thought,” she murmured, a gentle sob slipping from her.

  “It’s okay. It takes more than just a beating to take me down,” I replied, pulling her closer and holding her tight. Yes, it was an awkward sight to others, particularly given where we were and why we were gathered here, but I could understand her behaviour.

  She was raised well and had a passion for learning, but áine had always worn her heart on her sleeve. With her losing almost all her family during the SSM, she’d always been a little clingy towards me. It had lessened while I was in First Year, and she awaited her letter, but it seemed that after the recent attack on me, her fear of losing another member of her family had returned.

  A gentle but insistent cough from behind me had me turning. “You will have to forgive her,” I said to the others gathered here. “áine has always been… insistent on keeping what remains of her family close. It seems hearing of my short restriction in the Medical Ward has only heightened her fears.” It had only been a day since I’d been freed from the Medical Ward, which had worked out perfectly for the first meeting of the Circulus Heredum and the induction of our two new members.

  “Understandable,” Iona MacKenzie replied, a warm smile spreading over her face as she moved towards us. She placed her hand on the shoulder of her fellow Chiefess. “Once this meeting is over, I’m sure Chief Dòmhnall will be happy to talk with you further. However, this isn’t the place for such ignoble displays of emotion.”

  áine lifted her head slowly, her eyes slightly red and damp. “Are you okay?”

  I smiled and lifted my hand from her back to run it through her hair, stroking her head in a similar way to how I petted Xeno. “Yes. The healer gave me a clean bill of health, and those who struck at me will understand the depth of their mistake in time.

  áine smiled at the touch, as it was something I’d done for her at times over the last few years. “Good.” Her tone, dark, certain, and powerful, made me blink. “Make them pay.” I blinked, taken aback by the hints of fury in her tone and expression. áine had never shown any hint of such fire before, and I had always felt she was closer to her cousins in House O’Conor – Assa and Issa – than me. However, it seemed I was held in just as high a stead with her.

  The look of fury in her eyes and expression vanished a second later. So fast that if not for quickly replaying the moment over in my mind while still focusing on her and the others around us, I might’ve thought I imagined it. “I’m happy you’re safe,” she added before letting go of me and moving back, moving back with Iona.

  I offered her a smile and then turned to face those behind me. “My apologies, Praeses. My cousin was merely unaware that I had recovered from my ordeal.”

  “It’s entirely understandable. Assaults on students are extremely rare, particularly when they are members of our order,” Asmodeus Wessex, the new Praeses of the Circulus Heredum, replied with a smirk at the scene, as did most of the others in the circle. Only Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange didn’t.

  The former had a single eyebrow rise slightly at what had happened, perhaps in some sort of disapproval of such emotional actions. The latter, while his face was neutral, his eyes glared daggers at me, which only increased my suspicion that he had something to do, even if just indirectly, with the attack on me a few days ago.

  “Still, I would suggest, Chiefess-Presumptive MacDougal, that you work on controlling your reactions. While acceptable at Hogwarts, in the coming decades, such visual displays of emotion might only lead to trouble for yourself and your family.”

  “I… Thank you for the advice, Heir Wessex,” áine replied slowly, her face settled when I turned back to face her. “It is just that after what happened to our families several years ago, I do not wish to lose my favourite cousin.” I felt a burst of warmth flow inside me at her words, not having her refer to me as her favourite before.

  That warmth settled quickly as Asmodeus shared a smile with Finn Dalcassin. Already, I suspected that the pair were going to use her words to tease me. Both were among those I’d had as tutors during my First Year, and while those agreements would continue into this year, I suspected that for the pair before me, there would be fewer sessions as both would be focusing on their NEWTs. Then again, both Bellatrix and Aífe had been in Fifth Year, and thus, focusing on their OWLs and bar the last few months of last school year, I’d had just as many sessions with Bellatrix as with Finn and Asmodeus.

  Aífe Mac Uidhir, or Maguire, as everyone thought she was in school, though I had no idea how her Clan were able to fool the magical register of the castle with the name, was different as our arrangement was a hidden one. It was also one I was going to be cautious about resuming this term for the time being, due to Dumbledore assigning an elf to shadow me outside of certain locations. I didn’t know how long that protection, which was how he had intended it, would remain, or if others beyond the elf would watch me, but I didn’t want any to know of my connection to Clan Mac Uidhir.

  “If we could, perhaps, move this along. We don’t have all night to induct the new members.” That came from Anders Wollstonecraft as the Sixth-Year Gryffindor as he stood to one side with William Fiske.

  I lowered my head, accepting the words of the elder student and stepped to one side. “Go on,” I whispered to áine, “We can talk after. I promise.”

  She smiled before moving forward. Once she was past, I looked at the other new member, Remus Lupin. “Heir Lupin,” I said gently.

  The young Gryffindor, and hidden werewolf, offered me a small nod as he replied. “Chief Dòmhnall. I have only heard of you from one of my housemates, Sirius Black, but it is a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” I replied, though I said nothing else. This would be my first real chance to judge the third member of the Marauders, or at least the Marauders from the other timeline, and get some kind of read on him. It wouldn’t be a major read as tonight was very much a boring meeting of inducting the new members, explaining the methods in which the Circulus Heredum worked, and then recounting business from the end of last year, but it was a place to start from.

  Ideally, I could gain an opening into his world, which I could use to be kept abreast of the actions of James Potter and Sirius. At the very least, I hoped to create another path to watch Sirius and see if it might be possible to make him less supportive of Dumbledore’s faction in the coming war, or maybe convert Pettigrew to my side. He might have a bad reputation in the other timeline for his actions, but he was good enough to get into Hogwarts and thus had potential that might be exploitable.

  As we all entered the room used for the Circulus Heredum, I grounded my thoughts. There was no need to let anyone here have the chance to learn my intentions, not until I was certain I had control over the group, which wouldn’t come for several years yet.

  … …

  … …

  A flick of my wrist sent the quick-fire bolt that was the most basic offensive spell any magical could cast hurtling down-range. A good way down the range, around a hundred metres away, it struck the target: a block of enchanted metal not much larger than my head.

  I smiled as, thanks to a magical viewer next to me, I confirmed that not only had I struck the target but had done so within the ring two away from the bullseye. “Not bad,” I muttered to myself as I stood in the main training range at Dunscaith.

  Normally, I’d not be here during the term, or at not this often this early into the semester, but with my movements at Hogwarts restricted, both because of the continual threat that those who had attacked me two weeks prior and the fact that Dumbledore had an elf shadowing me, I needed somewhere to practice in private. If I was simply working on my accuracy and speed of casting the quick-fire bolt or other attack spells and charms that didn’t require intricate wandwork, I could do so in one of the various training areas within the Slytherin chambers.

  The issue of doing so there was twofold. First, the issue for anyone who trained in such a public place was that any present could observe when you were training and perhaps learn something about your abilities. The second, and the main reason that I was here today, was that I was working on adapting the quick-fire bolt. Or more accurately, empowering it with another branch of magic.

  I fired off another bolt, this one showing signs of purple flickers around the red bolt. Like the earlier bolt, this one struck the target inside what I referred to as the 8-Point ring. However, as the spell dissipated, I smirked as I saw a faint discolouration of the metal. It only lasted a moment before the charms on the target cleaned the mark so that my next shot could be seen clearly, but that discolouration was a clear indicator that the application of Destruction Magic to the quick-fire bolt increased its power.

  That was something that I’d first suspected during my hunting of Recaps when the bolts cast then had carried sparks of purple in them as they struck my foes. I’d confirmed that process already before returning to Hogwarts for my second year. Today, however, I wanted to take things a step forward.

  A glance to my side had my eyes fall on Banidar Vlidmar’s Path of Destruction. The application of Destruction Magic to other charms and spells was something the book spoke at length about in its first half. Vlidmar had proven, or so he claimed, that many charms and spells could be enhanced with Destructive Magic. Something that I already had proof of with the quick-fire bolt. It wasn’t possible with Transfiguration, at least as far as Vlidmar had discovered, while he had lacked the experience with runes to attempt to integrate Destruction Magic into any runic array.

  There was much Vlidmar talked about in the book about how Destructive Magic could and should be applied to spells. One of the bigger tricks he spoke of was hiding, as best one could, the purple light of that branch of magic when casting with other spells. For some coloured charms, it wasn’t too difficult as they used a hue close to the deep, rich purple of Destruction Magic. For others, however, it was much harder and thus such an enhanced charm should only be cast when certain of victory given, as Vlidmar stated, the fear the usage of Destruction Magic brought forth in others.

  Even before finding the book, the warnings on this branch of magic had always seemed counterintuitive. Any magic could kill, and several charms, transfigurations, and spells that were covered in the Hogwarts seven-year syllabus were, like Vlidmar’s preferred branch, only used for devastation. Surely it made more sense to teach those who could wield it how to use and manipulate the Destructive branch of magic properly so that they could find constructive usages for it. Instead, the consensus, at least within Europe and similar cultures, was to heavily restrict or outlaw the branch.

  Within Britain, the use of this branch of magic was considered a step or so below the Unforgivables. It wouldn’t see one sent to Azkaban for life if used, but a short-term stay was possible alongside a very hefty fine. In all likelihood, many would use it in some way, but they were just cautious about when and how they did, which was why I was here today.

  The latter third of the book spoke of spells based entirely around the branch. From something as seemingly benign as enhancing a blade so that it could destroy almost any spell it intercepted to a shield that Vlidmar claimed was only breakable by the combined might of at least a half-dozen very highly skilled wizards working in concert, entirely on shattering the shield.

  That shield was stated as being something that only masters of the branch could do, as one had to overwhelm and dominate magic in an area to be able to cast it. As if magic itself rejected the concept of being used in such a way and had to be commanded to break its laws.

  Such spells were well beyond me, which was fine; I was only in my early days of learning the branch and had only two pathways of magic open. Still, there were things I could do.

  Turning back to the target, I called forth an intent to destroy as I cast another quick-fire bolt. The bolt, still heavily red but now engulfed in a faint purple hue, raced towards the target. I watched the display as the bolt struck, the light dissipating outwards from the point of impact.

  “Better,” I commented, seeing the discolouration was both deeper and covered more of the target. The charms on the metal took longer to remove the damage, confirming I’d managed to channel more Destructive Magic into the bolt than last time.

  I lined up again, using only the slightest of flicks of my wrist to send another bolt down. I frowned as I saw it struck with no more destructive power than before, annoyed as I felt I had channelled more of the required branch into the spell.

  Another five bolts raced down the range, each striking in the 7- or 8-Point rings. Yet for all my accuracy, it was the fact that there was little improvement in them that was what I focused on. I could feel my irritation rising at the continual inability to improve on my performance, nor to better anything I had managed before returning to Hogwarts.

  This should be going better. I had been focusing on harnessing the magic required, and in Dunscaith, where I controlled the wards, I already had domination over magic. So why wasn’t this working?

  I stepped back from the standing point at my end of the range and began to pace as I considered the matter. Channelling destructive magic into the bolt was easy, as it had been to do so with certain elemental effects that I held inclinations towards. Yet, while I could see the bolt engulfed in flames or lightning which spread over the target when struck, I couldn’t harness even half that focus for Destructive Magic.

  “I’m missing something,” I thought as I looked at the book. Each page had been memorised in my mind, a vial for a pensieve stored in the Hall of Memories for safety, and a copy in my handwriting of the book – minus the title and foreword from Vlidmar – created and stored near the Ward Core of Dunscaith, so I knew what I needed to do, and had protection in case I was ever forced to relinquish the book. However, I remained at a loss to determine why I couldn’t channel the branch into the bolt as fully as Vlidmar talked about doing.

  I could feel my irritation rising as I paced, and that evolving into the first tremors of anger. I knew what I had to do. I understood it on every mental level and could visualise what I wanted to happen in my mind’s eye, so why couldn’t I make it occur? What was it that continued to elude me?

  I growled as I walked, time slipping away as I turned inward, seeking the flaw within myself that was denying me the power I knew I could wield. If only I could use this, I would have a weapon to use against those who’d dared attack me. Such that when I found them, I could counter my lack of accessible power and skill with magic that none of them should be able to wield.

  A snarl slipped from my lips as I kicked a stool, sending it hurtling away. “Damnit!” I snapped as the stool flew, and I flicked my wand at it.

  All the anger faded in an instant as the bolt that launched from my wand wasn’t red as it should be, or at least not fully. The core was still red, but the edges were engulfed in a vibrant violet hue. There was no time to focus on that as the bolt struck the stool. I raised my arm to protect my face only to be blown back, sent tumbling end over end along the floor until I crashed half-upside-down, into a wall.

  “Wait? What?!” I snapped as I blinked, looking at the dusty remains of the stool as they coated the area. “How…” I blinked, both to clear the dust from my eyes and because I felt a spark of realisation ignite within me.

  As I stood slowly and dusted myself down, my mind processed what had happened. I’d lashed out at the stool in, to be frank, pathetic anger, and yet the bolt had been encased in the light of Destructive Magic as Vlidmar spoke of. Too much, in fact, as the reaction had created blowback when the bolt struck the stool. Yet within that explosion, the answer that I’d been seeking lay.

  “The MacLeod is well?”

  I turned at Aien’s voice and offered the young elf a smile. “I’m fine. Just a slight miscalculation,” I explained. “Could you clean this up?”

  The female elf nodded and snapped her fingers, vanishing the scattered dusty remains of the stool from existence. “Thank you,” I said to her, getting a small smile. She vanished with a click of her fingers, and while I wondered why she had come instead of Kadic, it wasn’t important.

  Turning, I moved back to the standing point for the range and lifted my wand. Focusing, I brought forth my anger and used that to channel an intent to destroy as I cast the bolt. It raced to the target, encased in a lighter purple than the bolt that had obliterated the stool.

  Looking at the magical display, I watched as the image was engulfed in hues of purple and red. Once that cleared, I saw the bolt had struck as intended. The mark left was far larger than any previous, though I had only landed in the 1-Point ring. A grunt of irritation slipped from me at that failure of accuracy.

  While striking a small target at such a range was acceptable to some, and anything struck would’ve been killed or destroyed by the destructive enhancement the bolt carried, the loss of accuracy irked me. If I wanted to cast at greater ranges, be that with the bolt or other spells, either enhanced with or made entirely of Destructive Magic, I couldn’t afford to allow such a loss of accuracy at a target a mere hundred metres from me.

  I cast more bolts, trying to find a way to regain my accuracy while allowing my anger to linger. Either a bolt struck near the centre but didn’t do the sort of damage I was seeking, or did but struck the edge. “Damnit!” I growled after the twentieth bolt only gave me one of the two desired conditions.

  Stepping back from the range, I closed my eyes and thought about the matter again. Time passed as I sought the answer, but when I felt I had an idea, I moved back to the standing point again.

  Using the ability to channel two streams of thought at the same time, I focused one on controlling my aim while the other managed my fury. The bolt raced from my wand, and as I turned to the display, I watched as the red and purple hue faded. A smile came to my lips as I saw the bolt had struck the 6-Point ring with almost the force I wanted.

  “Better, but if I have to commit two thought streams to this, then it’s not worthwhile. There has to be a way to do this with a single stream of thought,” I stated to myself. Still, at least I had moved closer to my goal of what amounted to an overpowered quick-fire bolt.

  I could’ve spent more time on the matter this evening, but knowing that time was a factor, I shifted focus. This time, as I lined my wand with the target, I ignored the concept of casting the quick-fire bolt. “Hasta Exitium.”

  From the tip of my wand, a half-metre-long shaft of light raced towards the target. Composed entirely of Destructive Magic, the shaft glowed with an eerie violet hue. As I watched, it sailed down the range, and when it struck the target, I felt the blowback of air as the target was swallowed by purple light.

  The blowback wasn’t much more than a gentle breeze and something Vlidmar spoke of happening until someone learned to fully control the shape of the explosion upon impact. In time, I knew it would fade, and I turned my focus to the small viewer, wanting to see the condition of the target.

  “The fuck?” I mumbled as the purple light faded. Instead of a magically strengthened sheet of metal that was held in place by chains reaching up to the ceiling and down to the floor, all I saw was the upper chain swinging wildly.

  Turning back to the target, I moved down the range, my eyes widening as I saw the target, or what remained of it, scattered on the ground beyond where it had been. “Bloody hell.”

  The curse slipped from me freely as I took the devastation of the Spear of Destruction spell. I’d not pushed much intent into the charm, yet it had obliterated a target designed to be struck with powerful spells.

  “Has something happened to The MacLeod?”

  “No, Kadic,” I replied, waving my free hand absently in his direction as my eyes stayed on the remains of the metal target as I moved towards the largest remaining piece. “The spell I used was… a little more powerful than I expected.”

  “Kadic, see that. Kadic prepare stronger target for next time The MacLeod returns home.”

  Normally, I might have chuckled at the elf’s words, finding amusement in his dry wit, but not today. No, my focus was on the section of the target as I knelt next to it. I didn’t reach out for it, concerned it might be hot or that some of the magic that had destroyed it lingered within. Yet it was clear to see the devastation that Spear had caused.

  Beyond this piece being, at best, a few inches in width or length, the inner edge was charred. Not the usual black one would expect of something after it had been destroyed, but an odd grey-silver. The metal on what had been the closest part of it to the centre of the target was, beyond the odd colouring, melted smooth without a jagged section in sight.

  Now there were rougher sections after one looked away from the inch-long smooth section, but that was to be expected. Seeing the smooth section where it appeared, at least for now, that the metal had been melted and then hardened in an instant, it was clear to see the power of the spell I’d used.

  The smile that spread over my face was one I knew would send a shiver of fear down the spines of many. Without intending it, and using what Vlidmar considered the most basic attack spell for Destructive Magic, I had not only destroyed but liquified metal. With more intent in the spell, and once I learnt to channel the resulting blast, I had a spell that could obliterate any target.

  Yes, there would be ways for others to counter the Spear of Destruction or other spells in Vlidmar’s teachings, but this was an equaliser. If anyone attacked me, be they from the senior years at Hogwarts or those responsible for murdering my family, I now had the first spell with which to unleash my vengeance upon them. I couldn’t use the spell in any battle I wanted others to escape from, at least not the sort who might run to the DMLE, but it was going to be fun testing this spell out in combat.

  Standing, I moved back down the range, the smile having faded slightly. I knew I could cast the Spear. The next challenge, beyond learning to control the direction of the blast, was seeing how many I could cast in quick succession. Not only would that give me a limit on its use in combat, but I could use it to judge how much of my potential I had unlocked.

  Suddenly, the assault I’d suffered felt like a blessing in disguise. Without it, I wouldn’t have used the Vanishing Cabinets in my Lord’s Chest to return to Dunscaith for training, instead waiting possibly until the Winter Solstice to test my theories. The forced change in my routine had seen me take a step forward and opened up a path I’d been looking forward to exploring for almost a year.

  It was just a shame that when I deployed my new power, those who saw it wouldn’t have the pleasure of doing so again. Still, at least their deaths would serve a purpose.

  … …

  … …

  A/N: 2 chapters in 3 days? Well, I missed a chapter during the summer, so I have to get back into sync. Enjoy the extra chapter this month and see you next.

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