A Certain Magical Hogwarts

Golden-violet lightning clashed with black serpentine flames, crashing from the cavern ceiling to the ground in a violent explosion.

The entire underground passage quaked with the blast, sending stones crumbling from above.

Hermione and the others clutched their ears, staring at the young wizard at the front with shock.

Finally, the Aurors arrived, and the sight before them left them all reeling.

Their delay wasn't entirely their fault. The Gringotts underground vaults were cloaked in layers of protective and isolating enchantments, making it nearly impossible to detect activity from the outside. 

If not for the sheer intensity of magic resonating through the area, the Ministry still might not have noticed the battle.

This was why the Aurors arrived so slowly despite being based right in London.

Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, took in the scene before him, his narrowed gaze locked on the duel still raging. It had been a long time since he'd witnessed a battle of this scale.

Some of the sharper-eyed Aurors spotted the dark-robed wizard immediately, and all of them were struck by the sight of a young wizard wielding gold-violet lightning with such power.

The raw magic coursing through the boy was staggering, something beyond what science or magic could easily explain.

It wasn't just unusual for a child—it was unthinkable even for ten grown wizards to wield so much magical power… unless he grew up eating pure Philosopher's Stones!

The dark-robed wizard narrowed his peculiar triangular eyes, concealing emotions far more complex than his aloof expression.

He cared little for Flamel, the Aurors, or the Ministry—but to return to London after eleven years, only to be forced back by a mere child? The thought alone was intolerable.

It was an insult to the great Lord Voldemort.

That damnable Dumbledore, he cursed inwardly. He, too, felt an intense urge to kill the boy.

The phoenix's magic was undoubtedly empowering the child, but even without it, the boy displayed a skill that was far beyond that of any ordinary student. 

Power without control was mere recklessness, but this child wielded it with precision, an anomaly, to be sure.

But before his thoughts could settle, another bolt of golden-violet lightning tore through the air.

William's wand flicked rapidly, his magic pouring forth, brimming from his fingertips, spilling over his shoulders and head. 

He could feel Fawkes' power diminishing in the air around him. He had to make use of it quickly, to cast spells he'd long wanted to try but could never sustain in the Time loops.

At this point, he didn't need overly complex spells; with Fawkes' amplification, even the simplest spell would be lethal.

Right now, he was simply draining the dark wizard's magic, much like the dark wizard had used the dragon's flames to sap his energy before.

The roles were entirely reversed.

Under this relentless assault, the dark wizard's towering serpentine flame had shrunk to the size of a small snake, writhing defensively around him.

With a sigh, the dark wizard resigned himself to the limits of his borrowed body; he could only channel so much power.

It was a cruel irony, to be back on the battlefield after eleven years only to be held back by this fragile body, it was hardly more than a warm-up for the Dark Lord.

He would've relished more time here—after all, it had been so long since he'd wielded a wand. But his stored power was nearly drained, and this host body wouldn't last much longer.

He would soon need a long period of rest to regain strength.

"It's time to go." The dark wizard sighed.

Shielded by black flames, he transformed into a dark mist, taking flight like a swarm of bats toward the escape route he'd left above.

Just before leaving Gringotts, he turned, locking eyes with William in a chilling gaze.

"The Dark Lord will return with terror," he whispered. "When he does, darkness will cover the skies, and the land will drown in despair… and you all will fall into ruin!"

Muttering a few final words, he raised his wand toward the ceiling.

"Morsmordre!"

A sickly green skull appeared, with a serpent tongue slithering from its mouth.

Gasps rippled through the crowd; the Dark Mark… this symbol always lingered whenever Death Eaters struck, wherever they kill…

But it hadn't been seen for eleven years.

"Aurors, seal all exits! We mustn't let him escape!" Scrimgeour commanded urgently.

William collapsed to the ground as the phoenix's glow around him faded. Though he could still feel magic pulsing through him, the vast power from Fawkes was receding quickly with the fire's departure.

Relieved that the dark wizard had fled, he finally allowed himself to catch his breath.

"Relax, child, take this potion," Nicolas Flamel approached, offering a bottle. "The phoenix's blessing isn't easy to bear."

William accepted the potion from the elderly wizard, but before he could drink it, Cornelius Fudge came rushing over in a frantic state, with Dolores Umbridge following closely behind. 

Clearly, they'd been together since leaving the award ceremony.

"The dark wizard escaped!" shouted a tall, scarlet-robed man with a ponytail.

He pointed up to the cavern's ceiling, yelling, "Fudge, I saw it! That dark-robed wizard cast the Dark Mark!"

"I know, Olson, I saw it too!"

Fudge rambled on, breathless and disheveled, as if he'd just sprinted a marathon.

"Oh dear—right here—in Gringotts! Merlin's beard, this is impossible—I mean, how could this happen—?"

"Child, did you get a clear look at him?" Fudge asked William impatiently as he walked over.

He had only just arrived and barely glimpsed the dark wizard before he cast the Dark Mark.

"No, he was entirely cloaked."

William drained Flamel's potion, feeling the pain in his body begin to subside. He spat out a mouthful of blood, exhaustion setting in.

"What in the world happened here? Merlin, what on earth is going on?"

"I'd like to know that myself," William snapped.

If not for Fawkes' abrupt arrival and the overwhelming force that had kept him going, his entire family—and Hermione's, too—would likely be dead by now!

And yet, in all this time, not a single Gringotts goblin had shown up until the Ministry's Aurors arrived.

"Damn them all."

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