Avalon - Chapter 96 - Famine

Famine

“What news?” Marcus asked as Myrddin entered the room they were gathered in.

He, Harry, and Arthur had agreed that it would be safest for the members of the Wizard’s Council to remain in Camelot for the duration of Dark-Eye’s attempt.

They had not been pleased, nor even believed they were in danger until Myrddin himself had confirmed it.

“Four separate attacks were coordinated, and all were thwarted,” he explained tiredly, taking a seat and pouring himself a cup of water.

Fortunately, his wounds were already healing, thanks to the potions provided to him by Harry Potter.

“Then let us be grateful,” Lord Rosier declared, breathing a sigh of relief.

His peers murmured their agreement and Myrddin shook his head.

“As much as it may pain some of you to admit, it is Harry Potter we should all be grateful for. Were it not for him, we would not even have known of the goblin’s plan, let alone been able to intervene quickly enough to prevent those chosen to be attacked from dying.”

Once more, they murmured amongst themselves.

“Who was targeted?” Lord Selwyn asked.

“Yourself, Lord Rosier, Lord Rookwood, and Lady Marchbanks.”

“Bastards!” Rookwood seethed.

“But they failed,” Myrddin placated. “They barely made it through the defences from what I understand. Your homes remain intact.”

Lord Gaunt snorted.

“And to think had we succeeded in our earlier endeavours against Potter, they would likely have succeeded.”

“We would likely be losing this war,” Lady Meadows added. “Let us not pretend that there is any other reason we have fared as well as we have. Potter has been leading the charge from the very start. I know there are those of you that have your differences with him, but Gaunt is right. Some of you owe him your life and livelihoods.”

It was odd to see so many esteemed men and women shuffling their feet in discomfort, and Myrddin knew they had not even considered the magical ramifications of Potter helping them in such a way.

It could certainly be argued that he had saved the lives of those that had been attacked by directly intervening.

Such magic was imprecise, so not even Myrddin could comprehend it, but if he was any of those gathered that had benefitted, he would not be so foolish to think that magic itself had not taken note of what had transpired.

“It is too quiet for a time of war,” Arthur murmured as he continued to stare across the land Camelot.

“It is,” Myrddin agreed, “but silence either means something is being planned, or someone is on the brink of defeat.”

“After what happened, I would assume it is the goblins, but one should never make assumptions during times of war.”

“Wise words, Arthur, but I can assure you our own forces are holding firm and remain ready.”

“So, we are winning.”

“I would say it is only a matter of time, and not so much of it will go by before this is all said and done.”

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as he nodded.

“Maybe then we will have peace.”

“Peace doesn’t last, my king. There will always be someone with power who wants more. You were one of them.”

“Have I been so terrible?”

“No, my king, you have been exceptional, and I expect nothing less from you in the years to come.”

Arthur said nothing for a moment as he continued to look over his lands.

“But it isn’t enough,” he murmured. “It must be different, Myrddin. I once believed in your vision of a world where both our kinds could live harmoniously, that our differences would be our strengths, but that isn’t so. It makes Britain weak for a muggle to rule over yours and it makes the muggles fearful to know that magicals are among us. I know you, I know Harry, and many other magicals, but there is even a part of me that fears what you are capable of. I can only imagine how much worse that fear is for those that do not know you the way I do.”

Myrddin frowned thoughtfully.

He wholeheartedly disagreed with the king, and he hoped the man would change his mind, but for now, given his rather tenuous and strained relationship with Arthur, he would not push his agenda, for now, at least.

“What would you suggest as an alternative? It is not as though we can simply ignore one another entirely.”

“No, we cannot,” Arthur agreed. “There should certainly be cooperation between us, but it should be limited. To what that is, I am unsure, but we cannot live like this. For the most part, your kind should be responsible for your own affairs, and my kind the same.”

Once more, Myrddin did not agree, and it sounded as though Arthur was merely parroting the very same things that Harry Potter had vocalised.

He appreciated the man for all of his strengths, his acumen when it came to waging war, and even his brilliance, but he too was a young man, clouded by his own naivety.

What they were experiencing now was indeed a deeply unpleasant moment, but Myrddin believed it did not always need to be so between muggles and magicals, that between them, they could build a truly exceptional world that both could share.

Arthur, however, seemed to have lost sight of the vision they had once shared.

The king had changed and grown, but Myrddin could not help but feel more than a little disappointed that he had seemingly lost his way, and once more, it was Harry Potter that was the cause of the undoing of all of Myrddin’s work.

(Break)

The atmosphere within the room was different than Harry had become accustomed to. Instead of furtive glances of caution and downright loathing from some, he found himself on the receiving end of looks of gratitude, respect, and even admiration.

It was odd coming from such company, and even more so when Lord Gaunt approached him and offered his hand.

“Thank you, Harry Potter,” the man said sincerely. “You have proven yourself to be a much better man than I.”

Harry frowned in confusion, and Myrddin cleared his throat.

“You defended all of the men and women here,” he pointed out. “When their homes and lives were in imminent danger, you treated them no less than you would any other, even those you have had issues with.”

“Issues we would see left in the past,” Lord Rookwood declared as he stood. “I am man enough to admit I was wrong about you, and although I cannot promise we will always see eye to eye or even agree on certain things, you have more than earned our respect and gratitude for what you did.”

“Even if I did have quite the mess to clean up,” Lord Rosier snorted, pouring Harry a cup of ale before handing it to him and raising his own. “To you, Harry Potter. I cannot say what the future will hold, but you have my utmost thanks for what you have done for us all.”

It was strange for Harry to seemingly reach an accord with a foe that didn’t end in their death or living a much different, more unpleasant life than they had become accustomed to.

The closest he could think of when it came to the many rivalries he’d had throughout his life would be Cedric Diggory, whom he had faced off with in both Quidditch and his short inclusion of the Triwizard Tournament.

Even so, he’d not disliked the Hufflepuff, not truly. Harry had thought it rather unsporting of him to catch the Snitch whilst he’d been falling out of the sky, but he’d let go of that annoyance long ago.

He even came to quite like Cedric, who had given him more than enough of a clue to solve the egg that had plagued him for several months.

With the members of the Wizards’ Council, however, this was all new for Harry, and he’d even questioned the sincerity of their words.

“Of course they want to kiss your arse. You saved their homes and their lives. It’s not as though the goblins will try the same thing again, not after what happened.”

As ever, Owain had offered his own thoughts on the matter, and though Harry would never be able to fully trust the members of the Wizard’s Council, they seemed to have reached an understanding of sorts.

With Myrddin, however, it was not quite so clear cut.

Despite everything, the man seemed to have something deeply ingrained within him against Harry, but that something to address when the war with the goblins was done.

That was what Harry had been focusing on this past moon and a half since the attempted murder of several members of the council.

Day in and day out, it had continued to consume him, and when he wasn’t home with Morgana, Taran, and Seren, he was here, where he found himself now, lurking in the streets of London; both as close to and as far from danger as he could be.

Dark-Eye had been oddly quiet, and Harry hoped, though doubted, humbled by what had happened.

Even with so many at his back, he’d not been able to face him, and when they had come to blows, it was the goblin king who’d been forced to flee to live and fight another day.

Not that Harry was taking such as an omen of his own victory.

He too had fled Voldemort more than once before he’d ultimately defeated the Dark Lord, and he’d learned there were no guarantees when it came to battle.

Cnut had proven that when he’d almost cleaved Owain in two with a single blow of his axe, and Harry had been wounded more than enough times to know that just one was enough.

A single spell or poisoned blade could mean the end for any, even him.

It kept him grounded knowing this, and vigilant as he made his way through yet another narrow alley in the city he found himself in. Just one wrong could see him bump into someone, or exposing just the smallest amount of skin from beneath his cloak could trigger a most unpleasant magical reaction.

He released a deep breath, pausing as he watched a group of goblins entering what was a drinking establishment of sorts, though when he followed, they were nowhere to be seen.

The sun would be setting soon, and he had witnessed the feat several times now.

Those that entered this, and many other buildings would simply vanish, undoubtedly to where they slept safely out of his reach until the sun rose once more.

Still, despite his best efforts, Harry had been unable to glean very little from the daily ritual, how the magic worked, or where exactly they were taken, but he was close.

Even now, he could feel something in the air, something he couldn’t quite grasp, but something magical, perhaps a lock of sorts; something he needed a key for.

Well, most would need a key.

Harry had something else, and though he was not entirely sure just how effective his work was, he continued it, nonetheless. As frustrating as it was to be so close, he already had a plan in motion to achieve what he needed, but it would take persistence.

With the sun soon to set, it was time to pursue this second part of his plan.

Dark-Eye could not ignore it forever, after all, and when the king of the goblins could no longer do so, Harry would be ready to strike, to put an end to the rebellion once and for all.

With a final glance around the room, and a final reminder that he was indeed closer than he’d ever been, he placed the yellow and broken purple crystal back within his robes before making beginning the journey out of London.

Although he had become much more familiar with the magic, what it was exactly still eluded him by little more than a fingertip out of his reach.

Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to truly grasp it, but he wouldn’t need to. Soon enough, his opportunity would come when his efforts inevitably paid dividends.

When that time came, he would be ready.

Perhaps then, he could resume being a simple farmer for a while, until something else inevitably came to disturb what little peace he’d managed to obtain for himself throughout his life.

(Break)

He shuddered as the familiar blanket of coldness washed over the city. It happened every night now when the sun went down, and though Dark-Eye had done his best to ignore, secure in the knowledge that they were protected well within the walls, it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so, especially now that it was being noticed by the others.

“It is affecting everything, my king,” Burgock pointed out. “The animals no longer give birth to anything living, and the crops die before they even sprout. If we cannot fix this, we will starve. Already, we are rationing what we have stored.”

Dark-Eye’s nostrils flared.

Potter.

Potter was somehow doing this.

He had the goblins all but pinned down in a position no better than they had been when they’d been living beneath the ground they stood upon now. What Dark-Eye needed to decide now was whether he would watch his people starve, return to whence they came, or make something of a final stand.

They still had the numbers advantage after all, and it was not in his nature to concede defeat.

“How long?” he asked.

“A moon at best.”

Dark-Eye nodded and waved his longtime friend away in dismissal.

He needed to think, to truly ponder what he would do.

At the very least, the women, children, and elderly that were unable to fight would be as well as ever. At the very worst, they could retreat to the homes they had left behind permanently if necessary, but Dark-Eye knew in his heart of hearts that he could not follow suit.

As much as what he’d done was for the betterment of his kind, it was just as much for himself.

He needed to prove to himself that he was worthy, that his life had meaning beyond mining for crystals, gold, and other inane things that meant little to him.

He wanted to show that the goblins were worth much more than the lot they had been reluctantly gifted.

To that end, he had long ago decided that he would do whatever was necessary to lead his people to something more than what they had been reduced to, to put them at the very top of civilisation.

As long as he breathed, he could not bring himself to admit that dream was dwindling in front of his very eyes, that it was perhaps all but dead.

No, his people would fare well enough, would perhaps one day thrive beyond his leadership, but for Dark-Eye, there was no going back to what he had once been.

“He poisons your land…your livestock…and soon enough, it will seep into the water…You can feel it in the air, just as I do. There will be nothing left, King of the Goblins…”

“How do I stop it?”

He was met with a wall of silence for several moments before the burnt woman’s voice spoke to him once more.

“You cannot. The magic he wields is like nothing else you will ever encounter. You may not believe, King of the Goblins, but the truth is all around you. You can feel it, and yet, you will not admit it. Death is upon the city, and soon, it will be inescapable. You must make a choice.”

With that, he felt her presence fade, and Dark-Eye released a deep breath.

He’d already decided what he would do. For him, it was an all or nothing scenario, which meant it was finally time to throw everything he had at Harry Potter.

Grasping the dagger the man had thrown into his shoulder by the hilt, he nodded resolutely.

It was time for Fate to decide who would emerge from the conflict victorious, and who it was that would meet their maker.

(Break)

She held the girl close to her chest as she hummed something resembling a lullaby. Morgana didn’t know many, but there was one she’d heard being sung in the first home she remembered being in.

There were dozens of children there, children whose parents had either died, or who simply did not want them.

She remembered little of her time there, only that they slept in a cramped room with threadbare blankets and were fed barely enough to sustain them.

The song had been sung by one of the older children, and although she could not remember the words, she knew the tune well enough.

Seren looked up at her as she fed, her silvery blonde hair so different to her mother and father’s. She was an odd babe, had yet to utter a single cry of unhappiness or hunger since she’d been born.

How normal that was, Morgana didn’t know, but she was so very different from her older brother.

Taran already adored the girl, and spent much of his time with her, showing Seren his horses, or talking to her. She would pay rapt attention and even offer what appeared to be a smile from time to time in response to him doting on her.

Fortunately for Morgana, she had fully recovered from what had ailed her during the pregnancy. She was no longer subjected to nightmares, nor the urge to consult the stars, but it was not lost on her that her daughter already seemed to like the later hours and enjoyed being outside.

She would look up towards the sky unblinkingly, as though she was trying to garner something, but would eventually fall asleep as she did so.

Perhaps it was merely a comfort to the girl, but Morgana wasn’t sure. Given what she had endured whilst carrying Seren, she could not help but think there was already much more to it.

“It still makes all of it worth it.”

She jumped slightly, not having heard Harry enter the kitchen.

As ever, he appeared tired but satisfied with his efforts for the day.

“What does?” she asked airily, wanting to hear him speak his thoughts.

He shot her a grin as he stepped towards her.

“Coming home to this,” he answered easily, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “I always said there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you all, and not even this damned war will change my mind.”

Morgana nodded and quirked an eyebrow at her husband.

“You’re close.”

“Closer than I expected. He will have to make a decision soon.”

Harry had been reluctant to implement the curse he had found in one of the books from the Black library. Most would deem it to be done in poor taste, and were they not facing such odds, she doubted he would’ve even considered it, but couple with the magic he possessed, the curse itself seemed to be much more effective than the original creator had intended.

It was one a member of the family had used on a rival to curb the amount of crops he could grow or livestock born to them, but what Harry had done had seemingly cursed the entire city of London, slowly but surely turning it into a barren land that would last a century at least.

It was one of the very few times he’d asked for her assistance, and as Morgana pondered what had transpired that night, a shiver ran down her spine.

Flashback

Only a few days had gone by since Harry and the others had thwarted the goblin’s attempt on the members of the Wizard’s Council, and now, she found herself just a short distance from London, waiting for her frustratingly vague husband to return.

By how far the moon had moved above, Morgana would guess that around three hours had gone by, and just as she was going to become rather annoyed with the man, he appeared in front her from within the folds of his cloak.

He looked considerably paler than usual, and parts of his skin were glowing from the runes he’d been carving into them.

Morgana raised a curious eyebrow at him, and Harry smiled tiredly.

“That is usually my magic.”

He chuckled humourlessly.

“It is,” he agreed, “but you are much more important than me, so, if this goes wrong…”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Morgana snapped. “What is it?”

He said nothing but handed her an open book, one she had perused only briefly, and she frowned as she read the indicated page.

“That is quite some curse, and a dangerous one to mess around with.”

“I’m not messing around. We may have done well enough when the advantage was ours, but it won’t win us this war. We are still outnumbered, and the goblins still have things at their disposal we are yet to see. We need something like this, and it will serve to give me what I’m hoping can end this all.”

Morgana deflated as she nodded her understanding.

She was no fool, and though she knew Harry would fight until his dying breath, it might just take that very thing to see the humans triumph; something she was unwilling to allow.

“Let me check your work,” she sighed, pulling him closer to inspect the runes.

She could smell the blood permeating from him and feel the magic in it. His work was precise, and after checking for a third time, she released a deep breath.

“It is well done,” she declared.

“I know.”

Morgana shook her head as she pondered the ramifications of what Harry intended to do.

Personally, she had no problem with it.

The goblins had taken it upon themselves to slaughter men, women, and children indiscriminately, so they deserved what was to come as far as she was concerned.

There would be those, however, that would take issue with Harry’s work, and in truth, it only made her more supportive of him knowing just who it would irritate most when he inevitably discovered it for himself.

“What do you need from me?” she asked.

“To get me out of here,” Harry answered bluntly. “I expect I will not feel so good when this is done,” he added, nodding towards the moon.

It was full, and Morgana immediately understood why he had chosen this night.

A full moon was a powerful thing, especially when it came to curses.

It was partly why Lycanthropy was all but impossible for any to resist. Throughout much of the month, they would feel unwell from the disease, but when the moon finished its cycle, it overwhelmed the senses, and not even the resistant, human magic could fend off the coming of the inner wolf.

“This is probably one of the stupidest things you’ve thought up, and you’ve had some damned stupid ideas since I’ve known you.”

“Isn’t that one of the reasons you love me?” Harry asked. “You’d never be satisfied with a pedestrian life.”

Morgana hummed.

He was right.

Although it was often frustrating and worrying, she quite enjoyed her husband’s recklessness, and Morgana knew he would never take such a risk if he wasn’t certain of his work.

“I’m not going to be your nursemaid.”

“Yes you will, if I need it.”

She would too.

For some reason, since she’d met him, Morgana had always had a weakness for the boy and now man that stood before her.

“Just get on with it,” she huffed.

He offered her one of the irritating grins she had become fond of and watched as he drew the Elder Wand before closing his eyes and murmuring under his breath.

Immediately, the chill in the air became almost unbearable, much like that coldness the Dementors brought with them, but not so invasive to the mind.

Even so, it was oppressive, and as Harry continued with his work, it grew stronger still, blanketing the entirety of the city only a short distance away where he’d set up his magical anchors.

Harry glowed in the moonlight, almost as though he was an ethereal being, and the runes carved into his flesh brighter still until all of the magic was suddenly sucked away.

Harry collapsed to the ground unmoving, and Morgana hurried forward to tend to him.

His breathing was shallow, but he was very much alive, his skin deathly pale now with a sheen of perspiration.

Taking hold of him, she apparated them to the home they sometimes used in Godric’s Hollow and placed him on the bed.

When she was certain he was well enough, she began feeding potions to him; pain-relievers, blood-replenishing, and cocktail of others until his stomach was likely fit to burst, but he quickly gained some colour to his pallor and even opened his eyes for a moment.

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered before sleep took him once more.

End Flashback

“Days, weeks?”

“Days. By now, he will know something is amiss. The crops are failing and the animals are producing nothing. He will feel the magic growing stronger, and he will have no choice. It will eventually break through.”

“So, it will all be over soon.”

Harry nodded grimly.

“Good, because Godric wants to speak with you.”

“About?”

“I expect taking some of the teaching responsibilities. They’re not getting any younger, Harry.”

He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“I know.”

He had been promising to take a more active role in the school, to begin learning how the castle functioned and how he could fulfil the responsibilities when the time came for him to take over from the trio.

Not that Morgana expected any of them to retire, but her observation could not be ignored.

They were not getting any younger, and if there was any she knew that had deserved a semblance of peace in their later years, it was the Founders of the school that had spent decades of their lives building what it was now.

(Break)

“You have been oddly absent these past few days,” Salazar pointed out.

Godric nodded tiredly.

He was still feeling the fatigue of his efforts three days after he’d fought off the goblins, and it wasn’t lost on him that his overall exertion was what he would once have considered merely a warmup before a daily training session.

For such a prideful man, it had always been difficult to admit that he had long ago passed his best when it came to his physical and magical abilities. His body certainly wasn’t what it had once ben, and though he could still perform admirably enough when it came to his magic, he was slower, and doing so took quite the toll on him.

“I needed to recover,” he admitted shamefully. “It’s one thing teaching what we do here, but beyond that, it is beginning to take it out of me.”

Salazar offered him a sympathetic smile.

“And me, old friend,” he sighed. “We aren’t what we once were, and Harry saw it for himself.”

“He did?”

“He came to visit me to ask for my advice and a few obscure ingredients. I didn’t ask what he was doing with them. I find now it is best not to. It saves me worrying about the damned boy.”

“Not such a boy anymore,” Godric reminded him sadly. “He is a man, and a damned fine one at that.”

The corners of Salazar’s lips twitched proudly as he nodded.

“He is,” he agreed, “and I like to think each of us here had a hand in what he has become. You for your training, me with my cunning, and Helga has certainly preserved that caring side to him.”

“And Rowena imparted much wisdom,” Godric added fondly. “Aye, we all did our part, but he made it so easy.”

“Don’t tell the little sod that. He’s smug enough.”

“He gets that from you.”

“Maybe,” Godric chuckled, “but I do think it is time for us to consider discussing what is expected of him for when he eventually has the castle. We are old, Sal, all of us, and Rowena’s passing was only the first reminder of that. We’ve gotten older still, and who knows what may happen at any time.”

Salazar nodded.

“We need not burden him so heavily with responsibility, but he must have the needed knowledge, and we should perhaps consider adding his own magic to the protections. It will preserve the others when the inevitable happens.”

“Aye, it must be done before it is too late and we are incapable of doing it.”

He smiled as he continued reading one of the assignments a particularly gifted student in Transfiguration had submitted.

The young girl’s insight was fresh, well thought out, and she was certainly onto something, though her work was shy of being completed. Instead of giving her what she needed, he scratched in a few notes at the end of her offering, pointing her in the right direction of where she would find what she needed.

When he was done, he tapped the piece of parchment with his wand, sealing it, and taking a moment to enjoy this aspect of teaching.

Seeing students grow and thrive as they did during their years here was something that could not be replicated doing anything else, and Godric would rather do nothing else in his later years.

“Come in,” he called as a knock sounded at his door, smiling and standing as Harry entered.

He pulled the younger man into a tight embrace before pushing him away to get a better look at him.

Even now, it was difficult to not see the timid boy that had suddenly arrived so many years prior, but the man before him was so very different.

Harry was quietly confident, a brilliant wizard in his own right, and a born warrior.

As much as Godric had helped him as a boy, being such was something one was born with, and Harry had risen to and overcome every challenge set in front of him along the way.

“You wanted to speak with me.”

Godric nodded as he flicked his wand to summon both Salazar and Helga.

“We believe it is time to begin preparing for your eventual takeover. No need to worry,” he added as the man adopted a look of concern, “we are all as well as can be, but we believe the time is right to ensure Hogwarts will indeed live on through you.”

Harry nodded.

“You want me to teach.”

“When the war with the goblins is done, yes, but for now, we just need to add your own magic to the protections of the school so that you might assume control of them if needed. There is also quite the thick tome you must read to become familiar with all the castle is capable of. I’m sure you will enjoy it. Rowena wrote it herself.”

Harry smiled, and Godric followed suit.

It was a reminder that all of them would live on in their own way, so long as the castle stood, the Founders of Hogwarts would too.

“Ah, our hapless stooge is here,” Salazar declared as he entered the room, scowling as Helga swatted him on the shoulder.

“Do be quiet,” she huffed. “How is the little one?”

“As endearing and charming as ever,” Harry snorted.

Although she was quiet, Seren was indeed a charmer in her own way, and each of them had come to adore the little girl just as much as they did their older brother, even if he was a little too much like Harry for their liking already.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Well, in its easiest of explanations, we will open the school to you, Harry and you in turn will open yourself to it. It will come to recognise you, and should it choose to accept you, remain open so long as you are open to it.”

“Rowena came up with this, didn’t she?”

Godric chuckled as he nodded.

“Already, you understand what is expected of you, and yes it was her work. As we built the place from the ground up, it became as much a part of us as we did of the castle, and it will become stronger still when you become a part of it. I know, it sounds as confusing as it does odd, but you will understand it Harry.”

“You speak as though the castle itself is alive.”

“Is it not? It was built with our magic, and it is our magic that sustains it. The longer it stands, the stronger it will become. Even now, I do not believe you will a more secure building in all the land, except perhaps for your own home,” Salazar added thoughtfully. “Your magic will strengthen it further, and Hogwarts will strengthen you. When you are the last of us, it will answer to you, look to you for protection just as you would ask it to protect the students within.”

“Quid pro quo.”

“Indeed,” Salazar murmured, offering Harry his hand.

He accepted it, and when the four of them were inexplicably connected, Godric, Salazar, and Helga did what they done more times than they could count over the years as they opened themselves up to all the school had to give, though this time, they included Harry in the ritual.

At first, the castle was cautious, curious about the change, but soon enough, it welcomed Harry, just as each of them did in their hearts.

None of them were in any doubt that it would be him to replace them, that it would be Harry Potter that ensured the legacy of Hogwarts continued long after they were gone.

“I can feel it,” Harry whispered in awe.

“Allow it in, Harry,” Salazar urged. “Embrace it as it embraces you.”

Only a moment later, Godric felt it, felt the two of them become a part of one another before they broke the connection.

For some time, Harry said nothing as he absorbed what had happened, but when he opened his eyes, they were devoid of any smugness almost any other might feel at being gifted such a thing.

No, his expression was one of humility, and Godric knew the younger man understood exactly what had been bestowed upon him.

(Break)

He nudged one of the dead cows with his boot. As with all the others that had been born these past weeks, this one was already dead before it could take its first breath.

It was the same with the chickens, the pigs, and even the magical creatures that were being bred here, and Dark-Eye could only shake his head at the pile of corpses.

Goblins were not particularly picky eaters and had even been known to eat their own conquered foes, but none of this was edible, not even for his people.

The magic permeating from them would ensure they would not live to see the next day.

These animals had been cursed, as had the failing crops, and Dark-Eye did not need a second guess as to where it came from.

“You see this,” he murmured, gesturing to the pile of rotting corpses. “This is our food, and our crops are in no better state. Potter would see us starve, and now, we have a decision to make.”

Although he spoke quietly, all of the assembled goblins, those who fought and those that did not could hear him gathered in the centre of the city.

“We can either admit we are defeated and return to where we came from.”

The gathered goblins hissed at the very idea, an expected reaction.

“We can sue for peace with the humans.”

This suggestion elicited a bout of loud jeering.

“Or we take the fight to them! We make a proud stand against those that oppress us, those that are the reason for our continued misery! We are not defeated. We still have the numbers, we still hold the city, and we can meet them on the battlefield to settle this once and for all!”

The goblins cheered their approval and Dark-Eye nodded.

It was the only choice to make.

For him, there was no going back to what they had once been, and although he had somewhat exploited the pride of his people, he knew they too would refuse.

“Then let us gather all we have! Let us put an end to this!”