Pre-Chapter A/N: More chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio.
The first spell to cross the space between them was a grey cutting curse that seemed to cleave through space itself as it made its way across the space. Grand Abbott Rudra stared at the coming spell for a second, and then his mind supplied him with the right reply. He spun his wand in a tight circle and then pushed it out. It formed a tight golden shield of magical energy that kept the cutting curse at bay, blocking it and allowing him to send it into the ceiling. His magic rose to the forefront as he retaliated with a spell he had learned in his third life. A mass of black power that sucked in everything it approached.
It was a collection of spells in one, all designed with the goal of mirroring what the muggles of this day and age called a black hole and what the wizards in that day had called a supermassive singularity. It crossed the space between him and Matsuhito slowly but as it did so, it forced every spell the Japanese prince tried to send in his direction to veer off into its mass as it ripped up tiles from the ground and drew in everything that made the mistake of getting close.
One of the poor cursed werewolves— werewolves as a whole were already cursed, but this curse added to their condition was significant enough to warrant a separate mention— tried to cross towards him but in doing so, ventured too close to the singularity and found itself sucked into it and the crushed between the next layer of tiles and stone that flew towards it.
"A fascinating spell" The Japanese Prince yelled out, voice straining to be heard through the roar of the ground, the ceiling, the very world around them being sucked into his spell.
He traced his wand through the air, and Grand Abbott Rudra watched attentively. This spell was one that required a good portion of his focus, and so he could not cast anything else while it was active. It was all for the best because it was not like his spells would have had any greater chance of making it across either way.
The Japanese Prince spoke an incantation lost to the roar of the earth and from his wand came a bolt of lightning so black it sucked the light from the room. Lightning struck the dense ball of mass as it gathered more mass towards itself, and it felt like the world stood still for a breath. And then the ball exploded, sending stone, blood, tiles, sand, all of it, everywhere. Rudra slashed his wand through the air, forming a golding shield that the collection of matter struck and bounced off from, even as he forced his feet to adhere to the ground with a snap of his fingers.
Few others were so lucky. Nepalese defenders, Japanese invaders, and the coterie of creatures alike were sent flying all over the room. Rudra whispered a prayer for the loss of life, even as he readied himself for more. Matsuhito would not be the kind of opponent to be done in so easily. Rudra had five lifetimes of experience in all sorts of combat, and men like this one did not fall without great cost.
The dust that flew about the room was swept away to reveal the Japanese Prince, unscathed and unbothered. His black hair remained tied behind his neck in a ponytail. His suit, black with gold buttons, remained immaculate as ever and his shoes, polished a gleaming black, clicked and clacked against the floor as he took a step forward.
Rudra blinked and brought three silver lances of power into being. Each one screamed its presence into reality. The Japanese wizard whistled, and a woman appeared before him, hands spread out. His spells hit her to no effect, merely disappearing like they had never been cast. Rudra felt his eyes narrow. That was new. Magic absorption? How would that even be possible? How could they have managed to isolate such an effect? He sent another spelled rhetorical woman remained with hands spread out, and the spell hit her to no effect.
Rudra thought for a second and slashed his wand through the air. Stones gathered upon themselves to form two earthen lions that jumped at Matsuhito, approaching from the sides to avoid the woman entirely. Matsuhito's spell hit the earthen lion, but the surprise Rudra had baked into his attack came into effect. The spell hit and then shot off to the side, being completely reflected. The woman shifted, moving to stand in front of one of the lions as two werewolves dove at the second. How pitiful. They still fought like dogs to defend the man who had brought them so much suffering.
The werewolves wrestled the lion into the ground and began to pummel the stone with their claws and fangs, while the woman waited for the lion to jump at her. It slammed her into the ground and began to tear into her skin. While the teeth were buried into her left shoulder, she somehow managed to place her right hand against the creature's side. It stopped moving a few seconds later, and she stood, bloodied but alive, as the collection of stones that made up the lion collapsed to the floor. The werewolves hammered on the lion, raining down claws, fists, fangs, everything they ha while the creature lurched this way and that to escape their grasp.
The Grand Abbott sighed at the situation before firing another salvo of spells in the Japanese Prince's direction. Once again, the woman moved to stand between his spells and his target. Stupid and predictable, he sighed before with a twirl of his wand the ground beneath her opened to swallow her up to her waist. He said a silent prayer for her soul before he brought the ground back together again, crushing her lower body in one swoop.
"Well, it was too much to ask that she manage to last a few minutes against one such as you. Especially with a useful but cheap trick like that one" Matsuhito said.
"You somehow managed to isolate the magical inertness of some dark creature— a British Dementor, maybe. And passed it on to that poor soul. She couldn't use any magic of her own, could she? But then she could nullify all magic that made contact with her. She is how you managed to make it within these wards so easily, is she not?" He surmised.
"Analytical as always. Is that the third Rudra I hear in your voice?" Matsuhito asked with a scoff that Rudra did not allow to get to him. This was an old tactic. Even as early as his second life, people had been making the comparisons. They thought there was pride to be exploited there. He scoffed at the thought. None of them, so attached to their individuality, would ever understand what it meant to be part of a greater whole— a greater existence.
"What I do now, I do not enjoy. Goodbye Matsuhito" Rudra said, and he slashed his wand, but as he did so he felt something shift behind him. Where there had been nothing, there was now a werewolf. He tried to turn to defend himself, but the creature was too quick, his old bones too weary. It pounced on him, tossing him to the floor, and the werewolf yielded to its most basic instinct. It bit down on to his shoulder. The wrong shoulder.
Rudra's wand hand had been his left for three lives straight now. He turned his wand behind him and turned the normally magically resistant creature to mist with a spell that forced its blood to explode. He pushed himself to his feet, even as he bit back moans and grunts of pain. The pain was good. The pain had power, it meant it was alive. It meant he could focus and feel the werewolf venom as it seeped into his bloodstream, trying to infect him, to curse him.
He swallowed a curse and waved a wand at the wound. "I am sorry" He whispered to his men who remained in the room. The venom followed the movement of his wand and shot out of his body, leaving hid bloodstream before flowing from his wound in a mass of black tar. From the corner of his eye he could see the other creatures bounding at him. Too late. He brought his magic to bear and forced them to yield— to stop in place.
And then he waved his wand. The venom gathered above him in a single ball. It was that ball that he fed his hatred, his rage, and most importantly his pain. It was like the ball of the dense black liquid began to boil as it bubbled and vibrated in the air. A second later, he slashed his wand straight to the ground and the venom exploded outwards, raining down on the entire hall. It did nothing to inanimate objects, but everything with a single drop of magic within it began to burn. Some of the Japanese wizards tried hiding behind transfigured shields, but those were dissolved, and their flesh followed soon after.
It was a symphony— an ugly, brutal symphony of screams and pain, matched with the smell of rotten eggs and a corpse that had outstayed itself. He cringed at seeing what his magic had wrought, but he turned his attention to the Japanese Prince instead. Part of him had expected some sort of unusual or esoteric defence, but there was none of that. Matsuhito stood still as his flesh began to melt from the rain that fell unto his skin, bubbling and dissolving it in quick succession.
If Rudra had expected the pain to make the Japanese man scream or even show some sort of reaction, then he was mistaken. Instead, he was watching the proceedings like it was an academic exercise. Like he was not dying.
"A powerful spell, for sure. I might have even enjoyed fighting you in your last life, Grand Abbott. But now I find myself disappointed that this is the best you can offer. A Hail Mary after falling victim to a pitiful surprise attack. Is this what the ancient order has come to?" He asked. And then he began to walk forward. That was when Rudra noticed it. Every drop that hit Matsuhito tore through his skin and flesh, but it mattered little because in a matter of seconds, the flesh had regrown as the skin knit itself together again. He was regenerating as quickly as he was being harmed.
"What have you done to yourself?" He gasped out against his will. This kind of healing factor was highly natural. So natural that there was no creature in nature that boasted something similar. The closest that Rudra could think of was a phoenix and if this monster had used a phoenix for this, then… His rage was too much to put into words.
"Evolution, Rudra. I have embraced evolution. I used to envy your order, you know? Immortality with little drawbacks was appetizing. So appetizing that I considered joining when I was younger. Of course, there was no chance I would have gotten to inherit the mantle of Grand Abbott, but a boy could dream. Now, I see the truth for what it is, and I thank my father for barring me. Your immortality celebrates the past— the old, the antiquated. Taking one life and extending it across lifetimes. Mine embraces the future. My body constantly breaks down and rebuilds itself, healing constantly. Every day, I die over a hundred times, but it matters naught because I never stay dead" Rudra aimed a curse straight at Matsuhito's head. The Japanese Prince stood still. The curse blasted off the top half of the man's head, but the man kept walking forward and as he did so, Rudra watched his brain piece itself together as his skull began to regrow to cover it, and then came the skin.
Part of him screamed to act, but it was like he could not tear his eyes away from what he was seeing. He never even noticed the woman who erupted from the shadows behind him with mouth open and singing her will to the heavens. Enthralled, he watched as Matsuhito walked until he was right in front of him and then placed one hand on either side of his head.
"Rest easy, Rudra" He said, and then he felt his mind snap into wakefulness as pain began to course into him. 'There is no pain, there is no me, there is no…' He tried to recite before he felt nothing more.
XXXX- HARRY POTTER
I watched Krum send Fleur flying off the platform with pursed lips. I'd managed to scrape a victory over Cedric in the first round, while he had resoundingly beaten Fleur just now. My next match was against the French witch, but everything told me Krum would be the real threat. While the rest of us struggled to wield staves— the inelegant tools they were not allowing for any of the more civilized forms and applications of magic— Krum thrived. He was never nothing more than a brute, and it showed in the way he just sent spell after spell with seemingly no strategy beyond that.
Ordinarily, that strategy would have done little to worry me from its execution, but there was something that made Krum's terrifying. It was the speed at which he could cast the spells. We struggled to shape our magic and project it through the staves, while Krum just aimed and fired. There was a brutal simplicity to how he wielded the tool, and it made him too dangerous to overlook.
The next match— Krum v Cedric, was called, and I watched as Krum did not even bother leaving the stage. Silently challenging Cedric to forgo the five-minute rest period after the names were called. The other Hogwarts Champion seemed to silently scoff at the suggestion as he sat and rested his head in his hands.
The clock ticked down, even as Krum egged on the Durmstrang crowd into booing Diggory. In the end, the Hufflepuff did not stand up until the clock had ticked down to the last fifteen seconds. And then he jumped onto the stage in no time at all.
"Begin" The referee brought down hi hand in a smooth slash and Krum attacked first. A sharp black spell shot through where Diggory had been standing before the Hufflepuff slammed his staff into the ground, sending a jet of red-hot flames from the staff's head. Krum pushed own his staff, creating a gust of wind that blew right against the flames, scattering them in all directions. With nothing to fuel them, the flames died before they even hit the ground. He sent the same spell again, a gust of wind that caught Diggory right in his chest and sent him off the platform.
"Victory: Krum" the referee proclaimed and the Durmstrang section grown smaller say by ay erupted into applause. At this point, even I was unsure of victory. There was just something about staves that made them less than ideal for complicated pieces of magic, and it was only when that was denied to me that I realised just how much of my arsenal relied on either complex curses, charms, elemental conjuration, or just transfiguration of the bog-standard variety. Still, it would be my duty to fight at my best and I would deliver nothing less.
The announcer called Fleur and I up, and I walked slowly up to the stage, not wanting to rush her. Either ay, when I got there, she was still yet to emerge from the medical tent. I stood and waited as the countdown ran down. When there was about a minute left, she limped into view. Had Krum hit her that hard? I felt my grip on the staff in my hand tighten as she walked down. It was clear that she was struggling. Every step seemed to be a pain to take. She had left the tent with a minute and thirty-six seconds left. The distance between the tent and stage should only have taken a few seconds. In her case, she only had six seconds left when she made it to the stage.
"Are you okay?" I found myself asking as I felt worry crawl through me. Not just worry, either. Rage as well. Krum would pay for this one, he would. Staff or not, I'd have my revenge, Thoughts on him, I barely heard the referee begin the task. What I did notice, though, was how Fleur's limp disappeared, and she shot a wave of magic at me. I flowed my magic through the staff to form a shield and barely managed to create a blue flicker in time. It mattered little as I flew off the platform a second later. I landed on the soft grass, little worse from wear, staring up at the blue sky.
I took a second to appreciate the view before there was someone in my way. Fleur's head popped up in my view. "Are you okay, 'Arry?" She asked, accent thick, a sign that she was feeling some strong emotions.
"You tricked me" I couldn't tell if that amused or infuriated me more. It was one of the most obvious tricks in the world. One I wouldn't have fallen for in my life as Doom, for sure. But somehow this one had changed me enough that what I felt for her on seeing her was immediate worry, not suspicion.
"Not truly. I exaggerated things a bit, but the pain is very much there" She defended.
"Bullshit" I laughed. Because it was funny. I'd lost in the most cliché bullshit way possible.
"Truly, Harry" She said, meeting my eyes.
"Would Victor Krum and Harry Potter, please make it to the stage" the announcer called next. I pushed myself to my feet.
" I'm sorry 'Arry" She said.
"No you aren't" I replied with a smile. Because I knew I, for one, wouldn't be sorry in her place.Regretful to use such a cheap trick, maybe But never sorry to one who fell for it.
A/N: Yes, we jumped to a new character POV here. Did you enjoy it? Next one up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)( same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.