Hogwarts, Chamber of Secrets.
Woosh! Crackle! Crackle! Woosh!
A violent surge of wind spiraled through the ancient chamber, twisting the stale air into a raging vortex, tearing cold droplets and drifting dust from the stone and sending them spinning into the air.
At the center of the chaos, a young boy floated half a meter above the damp floor, his limbs and head hanging limp as if sleep had claimed him completely. Beneath him, a pentagram star burned with a vivid blue glow while arcs of lightning cracked and curled around his suspended form.
Around the circle, two figures stood with their arms raised toward the floating boy. Their voices rose in an ancient chant that merged with the storm of magic around them while their robes snapped and twisted against the raging current.
What was happening at this time was a magical ritual. The boy, unconscious, was Harry Potter, the target of the magical formation, and the two figures were obviously Dumbledore and Maverick, guiding the flow of magic and the ritual itself.
Under normal circumstances, a magical ritual functioned like a carefully conducted orchestra, with the ritual's magic following the will of its target.
But Harry knew nothing about channeling magic in such a structured form. He had no understanding of magical currents, spell resonance, or the intricate demands of magic this complex. Therefore, Dumbledore and Maverick put the boy to sleep before beginning, having no intention of letting him take charge from the very start.
Meanwhile, a lone figure remained at the far wall, half shadowed by the dim blue flashes bursting through the chamber. The stone pressed against his back felt cold and slick, yet sweat traced down his face in slow trails that soaked his collar.
Each burst of wild magic rolled across the room and struck him with a thud that stole part of his breath. Even so, he kept his eyes fixed on the scene before him, unwilling to blink, unwilling to miss a single moment.
The weight on his expression had little to do with fear of the magic swirling through the air and instead came from the terrible knot tightening in his chest as he watched the boy at the center of it all, still and pale and helpless in the rising storm.
His godson. Harry Potter.
Half an hour had crawled by since the ritual began.
At first, Sirius had been amazed by the legendary Chamber of Secrets, but the purpose of their arrival quickly sobered him.
He followed like a background character, saw Maverick and Dumbledore explaining the small amount Harry needed to know, and guiding him to the center of the intricately drawn diagram. Meanwhile, he was asked to step back to avoid any unforeseen complications.
He didn't protest, moving to the edge of the chamber and watching as Harry lay down, trusting them completely. And once Harry was settled, Maverick and Dumbledore put him to sleep, and the ritual began without a moment's delay.
Presently, the energy in the air thickened and vibrated, as if it had reached its peak. The glowing star beneath the boy pulsed brighter than ever, its light spilling across the stone like a rising tide.
Minutes stretched on, each one dragging like an eternity for Sirius. He wanted to step forward, to ask if everything was all right, but he held himself back, knowing that any interference might do more harm than satisfy his curiosity.
At least the expressions on the faces of the two archmagi had not changed. They looked focused, unchanged from the very beginning.
He forced himself to calm down, raising his arm to shield his face from the gushing waves of magic, when suddenly a shrill, inhuman screech ripped through the chamber, making his eardrums ache.
He moved his hand, and his eyes widened at the sight. Thick trails of dark smoke burst from his godson's unconscious mouth like hoses let loose, while his body convulsed violently, as if struck by a sudden seizure.
Has something gone wrong? Worry and fear for his godson hit his chest like a train, and instinctively he took a step forward, only to be slammed back the next second as a gust of something invisible struck him, throwing him against the damp wall.
Groaning, he got to his feet, pressing one arm against his ear as the screech ahead felt like it was clawing at his brain from within. He lifted his head and saw that the situation had not changed. That eerie, dark substance was still pouring from Harry—not just his mouth, but his nose and even his eyes—while his body convulsed uncontrollably.
Meanwhile, the two archmagi continued chanting in that unknown tongue, their posture and expressions unchanged. If something were going wrong, surely at least their faces would betray it, wouldn't they?
He had been warned from the very start not to get close, and his earlier movement had been purely instinct. Still, the sight of his godson like that strained him to the limit, barely keeping him in check. Only reason held his racing heart in place, forcing him to stay where he was and trust the two of them to handle the process.
And so he waited, each second stretching into what felt like hours. He clenched his fist and lifted his eyes toward the disturbing thing above.
The eerie dark substance pouring from Harry was gathering into a dark, jelly-like blob that hovered right over him and the ritual circle. The sight felt... wrong. Faces seemed to push through its surface for a brief moment, like drowning people breaking through the water before sinking again.
Then, suddenly, his head snapped back to Harry when the screeching that had been ringing through the chamber came to an abrupt stop. His thumping heart finally eased a little as he saw the dark smoke pouring from his godson begin to subside as well.
Was it over?
He wanted to step forward again, but this time he managed to control his instincts. The chanting had stopped as well, and he soon saw the kid across from Dumbledore make a series of gestures in the air, his head raised. Whatever he was doing, the target was obviously the blob of darkness.
And sure enough, in the next moment he saw a sparkling ribbon of orange form around the blob of darkness like a net, swiftly wrapping around it like a cage. Then it convulsed inward, shrinking and shrinking until it was no bigger than a small Quaffle.
---
"It's done."
Lowering his arms, Maverick spoke in a low, steady voice, his eyes fixed on the thing now sealed tightly in its glowing cage.
"I had assumed we would destroy it. What is the purpose of sealing it instead?" Dumbledore's brows furrowed. At the same time, almost absentmindedly, he conjured a small bed with a sweep of his hand and laid Harry's unconscious body onto it with gentle care.
"I need to confirm something first." Maverick's gaze settled on Harry as he spoke, a faint gleam rising in his eyes, having thought of something. "Let's do a diagnosis first. I'll elaborate on the matter later."
"Black! You can come over now..."
---
Some time later, Headmaster Dumbledore let the Elder Wand drop, while Maverick withdrew the spells of sorcery enveloping Harry, and both exhaled in unison, relaxing their shoulders.
"Is Harry okay? Did the ritual work? Why is he still unconscious?"
Sirius couldn't hold his tongue and fired a barrage of questions in a single breath, his eyes darting between the two and his godson lying prone on the conjured mattress.
"The boy is fine, Sirius. Not a trace of the Dark Lord remains now..." Dumbledore's lips curved into a faint smile as he turned his gaze to Maverick. "Isn't that right, Professor?"
Humming, Maverick nodded. "Aside from being drained of all magic, the kid should live…" He paused and chuckled, making Dumbledore raise an eyebrow and Sirius release a long sigh. "The boy who lived… well, the boy who shall live fits more accurately, doesn't it?"
"Ah… indeed." Dumbledore glanced down at Harry, a melancholy expression settling over his face. "Today, it feels as though a great burden has been lifted from this old man's shoulders. Thirteen years… and now, at least, I have the courage to face James and Lily and apologize."
Sirius crouched down and caressed Harry's head. "How I wish James and Lily were here…"
"Alright, let's move on to the next matter at hand," Maverick interjected, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn't that he didn't understand their feelings or lacked sympathy, but... it was time to move on.
"Here," he said, drawing three bottles from his storage ring and handing them to Sirius, who looked at him in puzzlement. "Start with the red, follow with the blue, and finish with the green. Feed him at five-minute intervals."
"What are they?"
"Magic, internal injuries, and stamina." Without pausing, he added, "Take him back… no, keep him here, just move, backup to the side until we're done dealing with the Dark Lord's soul fragment."
If Sirius happened to be carrying Harry's unconscious body through the corridors and crossed paths with another professor, and God forbid if that professor was Snape, it would definitely end in a homicide.
Moments later, as soon as Sirius backed up with Harry, Maverick waved his hand and the sealed piece of Voldemort's soul became visible again, and his expression fixed solemnly on it.
"Perhaps you would care to elaborate now, Professor? What, precisely, is it you intend to do?"
Without sparing the old man a glance, Maverick rose from the ground, folding his legs into a cross legged posture midair. His hands then began moving in deliberate stances, and gradually, sparks of orange started materializing at points around the sealed soul until it was fully surrounded, connected by solid strings of energy.
The only difference now was that the space inside had grown larger. Rather than the simple seal he had cast on Riddle's soul fragment before, it now functioned as both a seal and a cage, allowing the fragment to move but not escape. Once the new barrier was in place, Maverick dissolved the old seal, and as expected, the soul shard lunged forward immediately, only to slam against the invisible walls of its new cage.
Bam!
Bam!
Again and again it slammed, but the radiant cage of sorcery held firm, no matter which angle it tried to escape from.
"Harry is the last Horcrux Riddle created, intentionally or not..." Nodding in satisfaction, Maverick finally began explaining his purpose to Dumbledore, all the while his hands never stopped moving, clearly channeling more spells. "Until now, we have destroyed the soul fragments held inside Riddle's Diary, Marvolo Gaunt's Ring, Slytherin's Locket, and Ravenclaw's Diadem. That makes four, and this," he gestured with his head to the mass of darkness, "the fifth."
"There's also Hufflepuff's Cup, which I will take care of soon, so if you count that along with the wraith, which is the main soul of Riddle still at large, that makes seven, right?"
Dumbledore hummed, hand resting on his chin. "Seven, exactly. It aligns with our expectations, considering Tom's fixation on the number, and also the divination you received," he added, casting a faintly skeptical glance toward Maverick.
Maverick's brows twitched slightly. He did dump the "how" of a lot of things as "divination," after all, he can't exactly say he has knowledge beyond the fourth wall.
Whatever. He shrugged internally and with a straight face continued to bullshit his way forward.
"Yes, but since Harry was an unintentional Horcrux, there should be one more, right? I am fairly certain his goal was to keep one piece in his own body and place six pieces in Horcruxes. However, because of that unintended mistake, the actual number of soul fragments might be eight, including the loose piece of his soul that is still wandering as a wraith."
At those words, Dumbledore's brows lifted, and a torrent of thoughts rushed through his mind. Indeed, the old wizard thought, the possibility of that is very high. No, almost certain.
With that thought, he fixed his gaze on Maverick, who was still focused on… whatever he was doing, dancing his hands and fingers.
"In the divination you mentioned back then, I recall you mentioned a serpent…"
"That is what I am about to find out, Headmaster." His hands spread, and in the same breath he pulled them back and pushed them forward again, his thumb and index fingers touching to form a triangle. "Until now, I have not been able to locate this so-called serpent. In the divination I received, I only saw a brief vision of a snake that resembled a venomous viper crawling through the woods, which was not helpful at all..."
"I gather then, that whatever you plan to do is meant to reveal the serpent's whereabouts?"
"Sort of…" Maverick replied. "There's a particular spell in the system of sorcery that I practiced a bit more than usual, thinking it might come in handy… It's similar to Legilimency, which lets you access someone's mind, but the difference is that Legilimency works on souls still bound to their bodies, whereas the spell I'm about to use is specifically designed for astral bodies."
"Astral body?" Dumbledore inquired, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.
"Basically, one's astral form is their mind's vehicle in non‑physical realms, while the soul is the fundamental spiritual self. There's a difference, but at the same time, a similarity too." Maverick didn't go into detail and continued, "I'm hoping the spell works in this case since, well, this is a soul and not really a physical body."
He paused, then added, "I'll be entering the mirror dimension now. If it works, I should find the memory quickly since I know exactly what I'm looking for. If it doesn't, well, I'll destroy the soul fragment and be back just as quickly."
Dumbledore nodded, though his expression showed he had a bucketload of questions to ask. Maverick did not linger, having said enough, and with a wave of his hand, he enveloped himself along with Riddle's soul fragment, disappearing from the visible reality.
His purpose was simple. All this time he had been acting on knowledge from the memories of his previous life, and he wanted to know for sure if they matched what he knew here.
Nagini, for example, he wasn't sure if it was a Horcrux Riddle created before or after his resurrection. Even though Maverick had watched all the movies of Harry Potter in his previous life, he didn't remember every single detail, but Riddle's memories could answer the lingering doubts for him.
Moreover, if Nagini was a Horcrux created after Riddle's resurrection, things would be much simpler for Maverick, since Riddle would not live long enough in this reality to create it. That would leave only the Hufflepuff Cup, which he plans to deal with as soon as this matter is resolved.
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