Chapter 300: Chapter 300: "The Knight and the Headmaster Part - 2"
As the battle dragged on, Dumbledore began to show signs of fatigue. His breathing grew heavier, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his brow.
Harry noticed and smirked beneath his helmet. "As you can see, you can't defeat me. I don't want to hurt you, old man. Can I leave now?"
Dumbledore steadied himself, his voice still firm. "You are powerful. Were you the one who saved Charles from Voldemort's grasp that night?"
"Are you talking about the rumor of a mysterious wizard rescuing Charles?" Harry asked casually. "Unfortunately, no. I wasn't even on the continent at the time. I only came here when I was notified that the forest needed my pest control services. Still, I'd like to meet that person—he has the qualities of a knight. It would be an honor to make his acquaintance."
Dumbledore's piercing gaze didn't waver. "I feel you're hiding something. Tell me the truth."
Harry chuckled darkly. "Says the man who thrives on secrets. Can I leave, or are you eager to lose?"
Dumbledore's eyes flashed with renewed determination. "You leave me no choice, then."
With a sweep of his wand, Dumbledore summoned a massive whirlwind, a vortex of wind and debris encircling Harry. The violent storm threatened to tear him apart.
"Enough," Harry muttered.
Planting his feet firmly, he channeled his magic into his sword once more. With a powerful slash, the whirlwind parted like water, the winds dissipating into nothingness.
Before Dumbledore could recover, Harry closed the gap between them. In a swift, controlled motion, he struck the Headmaster with the flat of his blade, sending him flying backward.
Leveling his sword at Dumbledore, Harry held his ground but made no move to strike further. "It's over."
Dumbledore lay where he had fallen, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Very well," he said wearily. "Do what you must."
Harry sheathed his sword with a sigh. "I have no intention of harming you."
From within his cloak, he pulled out a spare wand—unremarkable and impossible to trace back to him. Pointing it at Dumbledore, he said calmly, "Stupefy."
A jet of red light hit Dumbledore squarely, and he collapsed gently to the ground, unconscious.
Turning to leave, Harry felt a faint mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. "That should keep you out of trouble for a bit," he muttered under his breath.
As he began to walk away, a sudden surge of magic pulsed behind him. Harry spun around, his sword at the ready, to see Dumbledore stirring. The old man rose slowly, his eyes gleaming with determination.
"You're resilient. I'll give you that," Harry remarked, shaking his head.
Dumbledore straightened, standing tall despite his obvious fatigue. "I cannot allow you to leave without understanding who you are and what your intentions are."
"Stubbornness must come with age," Harry quipped. "Or perhaps it's just your trademark."
Without warning, Dumbledore unleashed a barrage of spells, each one more relentless than the last. Harry deflected them with ease, his movements fluid and precise, but the onslaught was relentless.
"You're only delaying the inevitable," Harry called out, his voice tinged with exasperation.
"Perhaps," Dumbledore replied, his tone resolute. "But I won't allow an unknown wizard to roam freely in this country during such troubled times."
Harry sighed, raising his spare wand. "Very well."
He fired a series of powerful stunning spells, each one forcing Dumbledore back a step. Though the Headmaster fought valiantly to maintain his defense, the signs of exhaustion were evident. His movements slowed, his shield spells faltered, and his energy waned with every passing moment.
Finally, with a well-aimed Expelliarmus, Harry disarmed Dumbledore. He expected the wand to fly into the bushes, giving him the opportunity to depart. But something entirely unexpected happened.
Dumbledore's wand, which should have been flung aside, instead changed direction mid-air and soared straight into Harry's free hand.
The moment his fingers closed around it, a surge of warmth coursed through him. The connection was instant, powerful, and ancient. Realization dawned: the Elder Wand had chosen him as its new master.
"Well, that was unexpected," Harry muttered under his breath. Though the Elder Wand had always been in his plans, he hadn't been in any hurry to claim it. This was unintentional, yet fortuitous.
Now, Harry held mastery over two of the Deathly Hallows. The Resurrection Stone, still cursed, remained hidden in the Gaunt home, well within his reach if he ever decided to retrieve it. But Harry had no immediate desire to become the Master of Death. The ring's curse was something he intended to avoid, though part of him was curious to see if Dumbledore's hubris would lead him to the same fate in this world. Harry didn't wish harm on Dumbledore, but if the man's arrogance ensnared him, Harry wouldn't intervene either.
Dumbledore stared in shock. "The wand... it has accepted you…"
Harry slipped the Elder Wand into his cloak, his tone casual. "Seems that way. It is special, isn't it? I've been interested in it ever since I read The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Never thought it actually existed. Thank you, Headmaster; I'll treasure it."
Dumbledore's face was a mix of confusion and resignation. "Who are you?"
"Just a knight, doing his duty," Harry replied with a shrug.
"Wait," Dumbledore called, his voice faint but urgent. "What will you do now?"
Harry paused and glanced back. "I'm a knight always looking for thrilling battles. I'll be around—I get the sense that this country is heading for exciting times in the coming year. Oh, and do me a favor. Collect the other Deathly Hallows for me, will you? I know the Cloak is with the Potters, and I'll claim it in time. As for the ring, I've no idea where it is, but I'll be back for it. Until then, goodbye."
Without waiting for a reply, Harry disappeared into the forest, leaving Dumbledore alone in the clearing.
He moved swiftly through the trees, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the scene of the battle.
As he reached the forest's edge, Harry cast a final glance toward Hogwarts. The castle stood proudly against the golden hues of dawn, oblivious to the duel that had just transpired in the nearby woods.
"Until next time," he whispered.
With that, he took to the skies. He avoided Apparating immediately—Dumbledore was known to have ways of tracking Apparition signatures, and Harry couldn't risk leading him to Black Castle. That would reveal far too much.
After flying a considerable distance, Harry found a secluded spot where he finally Apparated back to Black Castle. As he stepped into the familiar halls, the weariness of the night began to catch up with him. But despite his exhaustion, he couldn't help but smile.
"What a night," he murmured to himself as he prepared for some much-needed rest.
Chapter 301: Chapter 301: "Spoils of the Hunt"
The sun was already high in the sky when Harry finally stirred, its golden rays streaming through the windows of Black Castle, casting lazy patterns across the stone walls. It was well past noon, but after the events of the previous night—raiding the Acromantula nest, battling hordes of spiders, dueling Dumbledore, and inadvertently acquiring the Elder Wand—Harry had earned every minute of extra rest.
Stretching languidly, he allowed himself a rare moment of indulgence. "Afternoon already?" he murmured, glancing at the ornate clock on his nightstand. "Guess I overdid it last night."
Throwing off the covers, he rose and began his day, though the day was already halfway over. There was much to do, and his mind was already buzzing with plans.
"Time to sort through the spoils," he mused.
Harry made his way to the storeroom where he had asked Mira to organize the materials harvested from the Acromantula raid. Upon opening the door, he stopped in his tracks, momentarily dumbstruck by the sheer quantity of resources. Venom sacs glistened ominously under the soft light, silky threads were coiled neatly into massive bundles, and chitinous exoskeletons were piled high in sturdy crates.
"Well," Harry muttered, "this is going to take some time."
Without delay, he got to work. Every item in the room held value if sold in the right markets and at the right time. Carefully, he began sorting the resources into separate categories: those to be sold immediately and those to be stored for future use.
The sheer volume was staggering, and as he worked, he couldn't help but marvel at the potential. "These will fetch a fortune," he thought, already envisioning his vault at Gringotts swelling with newfound wealth.
Aragog's parts, however, were something else entirely. Exceptionally rare and incredibly valuable, Harry decided to keep them in stasis. "These might prove invaluable someday," he reasoned. "If sold, they'd be nearly impossible to replace when needed."
Thankfully, Mira was there to assist, her efficiency helping him make quick progress. Together, they sorted and cataloged the materials with precision. Even so, the task took hours, and it wasn't until the evening that they finally finished.
Harry leaned back, wiping his hands on a cloth, surveying their work with satisfaction. "Not bad," he said aloud. "Not bad at all."
Mira, standing beside him, nodded approvingly. She couldn't hide her excitement, hopping happily as she imagined how much wealth these spoils would bring to her master and the Potter family once sold.
With the materials sorted, Harry turned his attention to his most prized spoil of the day: the Elder Wand. Holding it felt... different. A subtle hum of power coursed through it, resonating with his own magic in a way no wand ever had before. Intrigued, he decided to test its capabilities.
Moving to the dueling chamber, Harry faced a training dummy. Pointing the Elder Wand, he cast a simple Stunning Spell. "Stupefy!"
A brilliant beam of red light shot forth, striking the dummy with such force that it shattered into pieces.
"Impressive," he murmured, his eyes widening. "The spell flows too smoothly... and it's stronger than usual. Almost like an enhanced version of itself."
Excited by the potential, he tried a few more spells—Disarming Charms, Shield Charms, even a Patronus. Each one was executed with unparalleled precision and power, far exceeding anything he'd achieved with his own wand. A grin spread across his face as he continued testing. Harry was thrilled with the results; he was steadily progressing toward his goal of becoming an overpowered wizard.
"Although," he mused aloud, "I can't use this wand in front of Dumbledore without stirring unnecessary trouble for myself. Still, it's far too good to ignore. This will come in very handy for my vigilante activities against Voldemort's forces."
As he experimented further, an idea struck him. "Maybe I can bind it to myself, like I did with the Invisibility Cloak."
Harry carefully drew intricate runes on the ground, whispering ancient incantations he had memorized from his travels. He poured his intent into the ritual, willing the Elder Wand to bind itself to him, to become a seamless extension of his power. As the ritual concluded, he waited with bated breath.
Nothing happened.
"Disappointing," he sighed, staring at the wand. "Maybe the Elder Wand requires a different ritual to bind."
Undeterred, Harry resolved to research further. "There's got to be a way—I'll figure it out," he thought, slipping the wand into a hidden wand holder on his arm.
Now, with his personal Thunderbird wand secured on one arm and the Elder Wand on the other, Harry felt prepared for whatever lay ahead. "Two wands are all I'll ever need," he thought with satisfaction. "One for Harry Potter, and the other for the mysterious wizard."
The dual setup would serve him perfectly—one for his everyday life, and the other for his secretive battles against the dark forces threatening the world.
Happy with what he had gained, Harry was eager to resume his training with Arcturus. Over the next few weeks, he immersed himself in his studies of the Dark Arts, honing his skills and delving deeper into arcane knowledge. His mastery was growing steadily, and he relished the challenge.
His regular visits to Fleur provided a welcome break from his intense studies. They spent hours together, sharing stories and enjoying each other's company. For a while, the weight of looming threats seemed to lift, and Harry allowed himself the luxury of peace.
But reality soon intruded.
An owl tapped urgently at his window, delivering a letter bearing the Hogwarts seal. Setting down the massive tome on dark magic he had been studying, Harry crossed the room and opened the window to retrieve the letter. Breaking the seal, he unfolded the parchment to reveal a gleaming Head Boy badge pinned inside.
"Well, well," Harry thought with a smirk. "Looks like Dumbledore's petty revenge didn't pan out after all." His master had kept his promise—Harry would indeed hold the Head Boy position this year.
Speaking of Dumbledore, Harry had heard intriguing rumors through Sirius and Kreacher, who had been snooping around Grimmauld Place. According to them, the old headmaster had not been the same recently. Having lost the Elder Wand, for some reason he now appeared haggard, constantly busy, and perpetually rushed. Whatever he was working on, he was keeping it to himself.
Fortunately for Dumbledore, his diminished presence in the Ministry following the last Wizengamot meeting had given him more time for his secretive pursuits. And since he had never shown much interest in his duties as Hogwarts headmaster—leaving most of the work to his deputy—he was free to focus on whatever he wanted.
Harry had a hunch about what those activities might involve. "Without the Elder Wand giving him an edge, he's probably nervous," Harry mused. "He's likely accelerating his plans, trying to finish his search for the Horcruxes and dig deeper into Voldemort's history. He wants to ensure Charles has the tools to fulfill the prophecy."
To test his theory, Harry decided to watch for any signs of Dumbledore giving Charles extra lessons when school resumed. "If he does," Harry thought, "it'll confirm that Dumbledore is fast-tracking his plans."
As Harry thought about this, he was reading the letter that came with the badge. There he was the words that in a week, the school would start. That left him a little confused. It looked like Harry had lost track of time. He assumed he had more time to do things before Hogwarts started for his final year.
His attention returned to the letter. It stated that Hogwarts would start in one week—a revelation that left Harry slightly bewildered. He hadn't realized how much time had passed. Caught up in his studies and experiments with the Elder Wand, he had lost track of the days. Even his earlier plans to investigate Voldemort's movements had fallen by the wayside. He had no idea what Duncan Macnair, his target, had been up to.
"It's time to deal with that," Harry decided firmly. "No more waiting for the perfect opportunity."
Determined, he resolved to intercept Macnair directly and get the answers he needed. There was no time to waste.
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