HP/LOTM: Visionary - 394

Chapter 394: Act Three — Birth of the Author, The Chaos Stilled

The distortion eating away at the hazy realm began to fade. The buzzing from the Stone Slabs of Silence around the world gradually died down.

Silver-white motes drifted from Eleanor’s body.

“Mother!” Aiden ran to embrace her, but his arms passed straight through.

Even with all his abilities, he could not stop her from collapsing. For the first time, tears slid from the eyes of the man who’d always prided himself on controlling his emotions.

“You have to eat properly, sleep properly… and remember to land a good punch on that Tom Riddle brat for me. And do not come over here too early… well, you might not end up here at all. Or you might,” Eleanor said, tapping her chin in thought as she faded.

She vanished, leaving the Mind Dragon alone in the empty Deep Realm.

......

Elsewhere, Tom had fled back to continental Europe and thrown herself into her work.

She resurfaced in grand fashion, recruiting followers across the continent and staging terror attacks to restore her strength.

As edition after edition of the Daily Prophet and other papers hit the streets, Europe was swept up in a storm of fear. Every wizard dreaded coming home one night to find a Dark Mark hanging over their roof.

The wheel had turned. Fifty years ago, when Grindelwald ravaged Europe, the British Ministry played the offshore troublemaker while European wizards fought him tooth and nail. Later, when Voldemort terrorised Britain sixteen years ago, European wizards fanned the flames from afar.

Now the Dark Lord had all of Europe at her back and had cast her shadow over them in turn.

At last, the third act Aiden had imagined was fully realised.

This time, though, there was no chirpy system voice to announce that the ritual was complete.

“Mother,” Aiden whispered, fingers tightening around the gem at his throat.

The battle had only just ended. He had no time to wallow.

He spread his wings and soared through the Deep Realm, passing through layer after layer of veils until he emerged over Avalon.

On Avalon, the newly built offices of the Department of Mysteries were in ruins. Oliver stood on the rubble, directing rescue work.

When he saw Aiden, a spark lit in his eyes, which was quickly devoured by fury. He marched up and planted a solid punch in Aiden’s face.

“You bastard. This again!”

He grabbed Aiden by the front, ready to hit him again, then saw the grief in Aiden’s eyes. That was the look of someone who had lost someone irreplaceable.

Oliver let go.

“How’s the mental server?” Aiden asked.

“Bad. With the Fool’s core gone, we cannot find any ‘hard drive’ that can handle that much computation,” Oliver said, shaking his head.

“Then let me,” Aiden said, stepping forward.

“Wait. You’re going to bind yourself here?” Oliver grabbed his arm.

“Not quite. If I stay, every converted wizard becomes my eyes. I might be able to appear at any of your sides,” Aiden said with a shrug.

“That’s… a bit creepy,” Oliver muttered, pulling his neck in.

“Three stories. Three acts. A million people affected. And at the end of the story, drink the potion,” Aiden said.

He drew the Author characteristic out of the gem and mixed it into clear water, brewing a potion. Under the silent gaze of the Stone Slab keepers, he drank it.

His body turned to snow and melted, falling in drops that sank into the Sea of Collective Subconscious.

For a moment, Aiden felt as if he were being erased. Currents battered at him, tearing him down and rebuilding him. The three stories he had woven for the ritual stood as anchors, locking his personality and memories in place and stopping them from being washed away.

Darkness wrapped around him as he sank. He fell and fell, slipping into a deep sleep.

“Ding.”

A clear chime rang through his mind.

The entire Sea of Collective Subconscious shuddered. A colossal Mind Dragon rose from the depths. Its scales gleamed more clearly than before, and grey mist gathered between its wings.

It did not even need to use its powers. A casual stirring of its wings was enough for storms to heave across the Sea.

The dragon and the Sea are knit tightly together. Every interaction between the minds of living beings and the Sea of Collective Subconscious is now in its grasp.

Aiden had lost his physical form completely. His entire being was now pure mind.

He stepped forward and appeared directly in front of Oliver.

“The rest is up to you,” Aiden said softly, giving the Stone Slab keepers a small smile.

Some of them had never looked at him directly, yet his face was etched in their minds all the same.

Aiden stepped into the alchemical array. Author power flowed into the mental server.

A computing force greater than the Fool’s flooded into the system. Wizards in the real world who had been temporarily cut off felt their magic return to their call.

The dragon in the server closed its eyes. In the hearts of countless people, a pair of heterochromatic dragon eyes opened.

In Knockturn Alley, in the Queen’s office, Arthursi’s hand suddenly knocked over an ink bottle. It rolled off the desk and shattered on the floor.

She frowned, immediately fishing a small box from her robes and snapping it open.

Inside lay a scale inscribed with strange symbols. Arthursi crushed it between her fingers.

As she had suspected, that idiot did not appear. No force projection, no echo of his power.

But Arthursi was no longer the noble pure-blood lady she had once been. As the master of Knockturn Alley, her mind ran through a long list of ugly possibilities, and she set her contingencies in place.

“Rada!” Arthursi called.

“Haaah… what now?” Rada popped out, stretching lazily.

“He’s gone missing. Find him,” Arthursi said, voice cool.

Rada vanished through the window at once, mobilising the magical creatures under her sway.

Arthursi flicked her wand. A dragon-shaped Patronus burst from the tip and shot away. In response, Caius Quirrell pushed open the door and stepped into the office.

“You called, my lady,” Caius said, bowing.

“What is happening in the European wizarding world? With Voldemort?” Arthursi asked, leaning back in her chair. Her dragon eyes opened fully.

“Er…” Caius took several steps back. For some reason, he felt that Arthursi was more dangerous than ever. He quickly lowered his head and answered.

“The Dark Lord is carrying out Mr Prewett’s plan. She is stirring up chaos across Europe and seizing control of their Ministries.”

“So Voldemort is still inside his script. That battle just now… Then why did he vanish…” Arthursi turned away, staring out the window, anxiety in her eyes.

Far away in the Scottish Highlands, at the Lestrange estate, a streak of light slashed across the sky. Edmund looked up.

The light speared into his pupils, turning them blood-red. A terrifying surge of magic burst out of him, flinging everyone nearby away.

A small, elegant chapel of light flew straight into Edmund’s heart. It pulsed with magic, pushing down and suppressing his eyes.