Avalon - Chapter 97 - On the Move

On the Move

A rather solemn mood had descended upon Camelot. All within the keep could feel it in the air, feel that something significant was brewing. The members of the Wizard’s Council had been tense these past days, and even Myrddin had been unable to glean much of what was happening.

Potter had requested that they all gather; the members of the council, Arthur and his court, and even Godric and Salazar were here, shooting looks of caution towards those they were unfamiliar with.

Owain Peverell was here too, seemingly just as clueless as the rest.

The tension only mounted further as Harry Potter entered the room with his wife at his side; the very same woman Myrddin had all but condemned as an incredibly evil witch the moment he had laid eyes upon many years prior.

He still did not doubt his assessment of her.

The room reeked of the magic she possessed, but it was not as prominent as Potter’s own.

That had always been prevalent, suffocating even, and an odd mixture of both light and dark.

The man was a walking contradiction, the voice of his magic much unlike his actions.

Oh, Myrddin did not doubt the man was capable of the most unpleasant of things, but unlike others he had met of a similar feel, Potter had exhibited little of such proclivities.

He nodded towards Arthur before approaching, helping his wife into a seat before turning, his gaze roaming over those gathered.

Silence reigned for several moments, and Potter’s demeanour remained grim whilst he spoke.

“Soon enough, thousands of goblins are going to spill out of London. They outnumber us, they have countless creatures at their disposal, and they will do their utmost to wash over the country like a great plague. I understand that it is difficult for you to believe me when I tell you that this will be to our advantage.”

“How so?” Arthur asked, a frown marring his features.

“Because this is happening by my design,” Potter answered. “Whilst we have been at war amongst ourselves, and with others that come here from across the sea these past centuries, the goblins have been preparing. They have been breeding in high numbers, indoctrinating the young into buying into a position of superiority, and radicalising. Those that did not fall into line were slaughtered.”

He allowed his words to sink in for a moment, and it was Gawain who cleared his throat and raised his hand to be recognised.

“How is it to our benefit that they all come at once?” he asked.

“Because if they do not, the war will continue as it has been, and that is not a war we can win.”

“But we can defeat them as one?” Bors interjected.

“No, I do not believe so, but I need you to trust me when I tell you that I have a plan that I intend on implementing. I have not wronged any of you thus far, and I have no intention of doing so now. I need only one last push from each of you, and I will right what the goblins have done. You have my word.”

Myrddin frowned as he pondered what Potter had and hadn’t said.

He’d given no details on what he would do, and it made no sense that the goblins would abandon a plan that was largely working in their favour without good reason.

Myrddin did not doubt that Potter was intentionally keeping the reason to himself, but it did not sit right with him.

No, there had to be a reason why the man was so confident that the goblins would suddenly change tact, and he was determined to discover it for himself.

“If we can’t win, then why would face them?”

“Because the alternative is a slow and steady demise,” Potter answered. “A drawn-out war does not favour us. Already, most of the cities and villages up and down the country are empty, and the people are all here.”

“You believe this is where the goblins will come,” Myrddin broke in.

“Where else would they attack?” Potter returned.

“If they can take Camelot, they have won. Although opening the gates to the men, women, and children was absolutely the right thing to do to protect them, all we have done is pen all of them in one place. When Dark-Eye feels the need to act, which is imminent, he will come here.”

“Then we must prepare,” Arthur declared. “We all remember what happened when Cnut arrived with his army. We must expect similar.”

“Worse,” Potter warned. “It will be much worse.”

Those gathered murmured amongst themselves, and Arthur visibly paled.

Myrddin would never forget what happened that night, and what could’ve been had that dragon not been killed. If Potter was expecting the goblins to be worse, then he could only imagine what it was that would be coming for them, seemingly sooner than any would be truly prepared for.

Even so, although Potter was disturbed by the prospect, he didn’t seem so troubled by it in all, and Myrddin frowned thoughtfully as he watched the man prepare to take his leave.

He undoubtedly knew something he wasn’t sharing, and that did not sit right with him.

No, now was not the time for secrets, not when so many lives hung in the balance, and with that in mind, Myrddin readied himself for his own departure.

He needed to know for himself why it was Potter was so unperturbed by the prospect of what was coming for all.

Myrddin could not simply rely on blind faith in the man for something so important.

Besides, Potter may not be troubled, but his behaviour and demeanour were both concerning.

The others gathered here may not be willing to question him and his intentions, but Myrddin was not so accepting of the word of any, let alone one he often found himself at odds with.

“What do you think?” Flint asked.

“I do not know, Marcus, but I am going to find out.”

The man merely nodded in response, and Myrddin took the opportunity to slip out of the room.

London.

It would be London he would visit first in his pursuit of knowledge.

(Break)

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“There’s many things I don’t tell you.”

Owain shook his head.

“You know what I mean, Harry.”

“It’s complicated.”

“When is anything we do ever easy?”

Harry conceded the point with a nod.

“I’m going to need you to lead the men when the goblins arrive.”

Owain frowned.

“You’re not going to be there?”

“No, not at first. There is something I have to do, something that will put an end to a battle I do not think we can win, well, not without the cost being too high.”

Owain eyed him questioningly for a moment before nodding.

“I’ll do it.”

“Just like that?”

“You wouldn’t ask me to if it wasn’t important, and I know you would never abandon us. What are you planning on doing?”

Harry released a deep breath, and Owain realised just ow tired the man appeared. It was clear he had slept little recently, but it was more than that. He was exhausted, and even just a little disheartened despite how confident in his plan he was.

“I put a curse on London, a curse that will see the land almost uninhabitable for a century or so. No crops can be yielded from the land, and nothing living can be born.”

Owain whistled appreciatively.

He’d never heard of such a thing, but he knew to achieve something of that magnitude, it must be quite the curse.

“And Dark-Eye is aware of it?”

“By now, he will be,” Harry answered with certainty, “and he realises that he now has very few choices. Soon enough, the food will run out. He could always move on to somewhere new, but he also knows that the curse can be cast again. What he doesn’t know is the other function of the magic.”

“There’s more to it?”

Harry nodded.

“Slowly but surely, it is feeding off all the magic in and around the city. As it does that, the curse grows stronger whilst the protections grow weaker, and since he does not know it or how to counter it, it is only a matter of time before nay protective magic covering London is destroyed.”

Owain frowned confusedly.

“It means that I will be able to retrieve the leverage we need to put an end to the war,” Harry explained. “He may have no regard for our own children and elderly, but to goblins, family is everything. When he realises that I have taken them all, he will have no choice but to either concede defeat or sue for peace. Even his most loyal warriors will not raise their swords if they believe their loved ones are in danger. It is the safest way to win this war without losing so many men to the fighting.”

Owain was taken aback by the revelation of the plan.

It was an unexpected development to say the least, but he nodded.

“I agree,” he murmured, “but there will be those that find it to be distasteful. Myrddin will not like it.”

Harry shrugged indifferently.

“I do not care what Myrddin thinks. As much good as he has done in this war, I will never forget his wrongs, Owain. I know he is the reason that Helena Ravenclaw died, and I know he was in league with Strenger and his ilk. Those are only the things I know of, so Myrddin Emrys can kiss my arse.”

Owain chuckled amusedly.

“Aye, mine too,” he echoed. “You know I will have your back, no matter.”

Harry nodded appreciatively.

“Good, because the protections around London will fall not long after Dark-Eye leaves the city. It is his magic sustaining the protections for the time being, but they won’t last in his absence.”

“And then you will be able to do what is necessary.”

“That is why I need you to lead the men. I will act quickly, but you will need to hold the army off.”

Owain nodded solemnly.

“I can do that, Harry,” he replied. “We will manage for as long as you need.”

(Break)

The city was dying.

That was what it felt like as he stared across the expanse of it and the land beyond. Death was in the air, and Dark-Eye could not help but think of the ominous words of the burnt woman; the warning of Potter’s relationship with the being itself.

“It has become miserable here,” Burgock murmured. “Unbearable.”

Dark-Eye nodded his agreement.

It had.

It was as though something quite grim was hanging over them, something inevitable, something quite final n nature.

“How go the preparations?”

“We are ready when you are, my king,” Burgock assured him. “Everything is gathered, and we will march at your behest.”

“Then let us not delay,” Dark-Eye urged, his hand reaching towards the handle of his sword. “Get word to the others we leave at sunrise, and we head to Camelot.”

Burgock only grinned in response before taking his leave.

“I know you’re here.”

“I am here, king of the goblins. I urge caution. Harry Potter will be expecting you.”

“Not even Harry Potter can face my army.”

The voice was absent for several moments.

“I would not be so sure.”

He felt the presence of the woman fade, away from him and London itself until there was nothing left.

She did not believe in him, had abandoned him, but it mattered not.

Dark-Eye did not need a necromancer who had already failed to kill Potter by her own admission, not when he had such a great army at his back of his own.

(Break)

He’d never felt magic so dark in nature in such a subtle way.

Myrddin liked to think that his ability to detect all magicks was second to none, and although he could undoubtedly feel the unpleasantness permeating the very air around him, it wasn’t so obvious, despite the nature of it.

Cautiously, he drew his wand, not wanting to provoke a reaction from whatever had been done here, and he swallowed deeply as he became just a little more familiar with it.

Blood magic was prevalent, but it was not just blood he could taste the tang of. No, this was ritualistic magic too; a vile coming together of two things that should not be.

What had been done exactly was indiscernible, but he could feel all around him in every blade of grass, every grains of soil, and every seemingly discarded stone.

The entirety of London and the surrounding land was saturated with it, so much so that it made him feel quite nauseous.

Most would not even be aware of it, but the more Myrddin investigated, the more he was unable to ignore it.

It was feeding on the city itself; the magic, the life within, and the very essence of anything that was good, consuming it to become stronger.

He could only shake his head.

What Potter had done here was quite something, though something that was unforgiveable.

For long enough, he had given the man the benefit of the doubt, had seen the good he could do, and now, he had been reminded just why the stars had given him so many stark warnings.

To Myrddin, there was no excuse for this, no end that could justify the means, and as his grip tightened around his wand, he felt the magic lash out at him, warning him not to interfere.

In truth, he wasn’t sure there was anything he could do if he were to try.

Blood and ritualistic magicks were as dangerous as they came, and though he felt so strongly against what had been done, he would not act against something he knew so little of.

Even so, Potter had crossed a line here, and there would be few who would agree with his actions.

It was wrong in all ways, and yet, there was nothing that could be done to prevent it now.

Once more, Myrddin shook his head as the gates to the city opened, and he rendered himself all but invisible to the unending procession of armoured goblins and beasts that began filing out, their feet stamping rhythmically as they marched off to war.

“What have you done, Harry Potter?” Myrddin whispered disappointedly.

(Break)

She watched as the two of them prepared to depart the castle, each checking their wands, and Godric his sword and armour. If she thought there was anything she could do to prevent them leaving, Helga would not hesitate, but she knew there was nothing that would convince them otherwise.

Both were prideful, but it wasn’t their pride that spurred them on to throwing themselves into battle once more.

No, this was for the good of the entirety of Britain, whom they had served so devoutly these past decades. Beyond that, it was for Harry, for the boy each had a hand in rescuing and moulding into what he was today.

He was nothing but a son to both, and there was nowhere else they would be except for by his side when he needed them most.

Helga would too if she thought she could be of any help.

She was no warrior. She’d dedicated her life to healing and plants for the most part, along with runic studies, none of which being of much use in a battle.

“Don’t,” Godric pleaded as she opened her mouth to speak.

“Do you think me foolish enough to even try to convince you not to do this?”

“No.”

Helga offered him a sad smile.

“Just be careful,” she sighed. “Both of you. I’m not ready to bury you damned fools, not yet, at least.”

“You speak as though you will outlive us both,” Salazar snorted.

“Oh. The way you two live, I do not doubt it.”

Salazar quirked an eyebrow at her before shaking his head.

“You won’t be burying us.”

“Don’t make promises you cannot keep,” Helga murmured. “Is this it?”

“It is,” Godric assured her. “When the war with the goblins is done, there will be no others for us.”

Helga nodded and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good. Now I expect Harry will be waiting for you idiots. I will put the school into lockdown until you return.”

“Morgana is coming?”

“She is,” Helga confirmed. “She will be here shortly. Now, go, before I lock the castle down with both of you still in it.”

They said nothing else, but both embraced and placed a kiss on her cheek before they took their leave of the room, and though she did not wish to think of it, Helga could not ignore the notion that one or both of them might not return from where they were going.

(Break)

He’d been here before.

He was younger then, less experienced, and considerably more naïve, but Arthur had learned much in the years since Cnut had marched his army to Camelot.

There was no cockiness or arrogance about himself. He knew what was coming for them now, and as his gaze swept over the gathered legions of men, both magical and muggle, he knew each of them had a fight on their hands like no other.

Dark-Eye and his forces were not so far away and would reach them in a matter of moments.

None spoke.

There was no resounding speech to inject fire in the blood nor any promises that they would even see the sunrise in the coming hours.

It was acceptance Arthur felt, and he was certain those around him were experiencing something similar.

Even so, there was no indication that they would concede defeat, that they wouldn’t pick up their swords, spears, axes, and wands to confront their enemies as they always had.

The threat against them was unprecedented, and as he heard the distant rumblings of the approaching army, he took hold of Excalibur’s handle, ready to draw the sword.

“Where is Harry?” he asked.

“Where he is needed most,” Owain answered. “He will be here.”

Arthur frowned but his mouth was too dry to ask anything else of the man.

Once more, he knew he needed to trust Harry Potter. He’d never been wronged by him yet, and he did not expect to now, not when Britain needed him most.

“Here they come,” Myrddin murmured, pulling the king from his thoughts.

Arthur had never seen the man so troubled, so concerned about what was upon them. Even when Cnut’s dragon had soared above them, he’d not appeared so severe, but in this moment, it was as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders, that he knew something the others didn’t, but a he drew his own sword and wand in preparation of confronting Dark-Eye, he did so without hesitation with a steely glint of determination about him.

He watched as the ranks of goblins and even more creatures, many of which he had never seen before began emerging from the trees in the distance, and soon enough, they carpeted the entire expanse of land beyond Camelot.

Arthur nodded to himself and counted, waiting for the very first rows of warriors to come into range of his archers.

Two thousand men stood poised and ready to unleash the very first volley, for what good it would do against such enemies.

These were not men they were facing.

Goblins were just as magical as witches and wizards, and arrows might just be fruitless.

Nonetheless, it would serve as a distraction at the very least whilst the wizards among his own ranks attacked in their own way.

Arthur had seen them train, seen them put through their paces daily by Harry, Owain, and Hook.

They were as ready as they ever would be for this, but Arthur could not help but think that anything they did would not be enough.

More and more goblins spilled from the trees, and even more creatures; the full strength of Dark-Eye’s army dwarfing his own, making it appear to be but a fly intent on irritating a horse.

“DRAW!” he bellowed, undeterred by the seemingly insurmountable task ahead of them.

The archers drew their bows, and Arthur waited only a moment, taking in the expanse of those below him.

“LOOSE!”

The sound of hundreds of arrows being unleashed was quite terrifying in itself, but the sound of the screams and roars of goblins and beasts below was something Arthur would never forget.

Nonetheless, judging by the very few that were felled by the salvo, he knew his earlier assessment of the effectiveness of such an attack was right.

Most of the goblins managed to magically shield themselves from the projectiles in a variety of ways, but Arthur gave the signal once more, and Owain followed suit.

Again, the arrows were not so effective, but the dozens upon dozens of spells that followed were certainly not negligible.

Evidently, Dark-Eye recognised this, and with a myriad of guttural roars of goblins and beast alike baying for blood, they charged as one.

“May god be with us,” Lancelot prayed.

Arthur said nothing, as he had said nothing to the man upon his arrival to Camelot.

If Lancelot lived through this, the king would need to decide if he was to take the head of one he’d once considered his brother.

For now, however, they needed to survive this, and once more, Arthur idly wondered just what it was Harry was doing whilst they were here fighting for their lives.

(Break)

Her breathing became staggered as she pressed her bloodied palm to Harry’s own, and Morgana’s lips parted for a moment whilst she closed her eyes.

“You didn’t have that reaction the first time you gave me that symbol,” he chuckled.

“I hid it well, but I have no reason to now.”

“You did then?”

“I couldn’t allow you to see how excited your magic makes me, Harry Potter,” she whispered, biting his lower lip harder than was decent.

Not that it hurt.

Harry had gotten used to it over the years, and as he held his wife in his arms, he released a deep breath of his own.

“I’ll be back,” he promised.

“I know.”

“You do?”

“It won’t be a goblin that kills you, Harry.”

“You know what will?”

“You will die of a broken heart not so long after I am gone.”

“Or maybe you will.”

Morgana shook her head.

“You would never allow me to experience even a moment of misery without you. You will let me go first.”

“Maybe one day we will be fortunate enough to never just wake up. We will pass together into a place without war and misery.”

“I think we are owed at least that, don’t you?”

Harry snorted as he nodded.

“I think so too.”

“Good, so go and do whatever it is you need to. I will be here waiting. Do not make me come looking for you.”

Harry knew that Morgana wanted nothing more than to go with him, to be at his side as she always had been when it mattered most, but now that they had children, it was different.

Neither of them would see Seren or Taran grow without a mother or father to raise them.

No, that simply wouldn’t do.

“Come Death, come,” Harry murmured, placing a final kiss on his wife’s lips before leaving the home they had built their family within, reinvigorated by what it was he was fighting for.

On the surface, the city appeared to be mostly empty.

Dark-Eye had left behind a token force to make it seem that it was well-guarded, but Harry knew better.

He had tracked the goblin army across the country, and they had moved swiftly, not pausing to rest before they had reached Camelot.

Even so, the king of the goblins had been absent long enough for what Harry expected to occur to come to pass, and as the final vestiges of protective magic around London were consumed by the curse, he entered, immediately making his way towards the entrance he had been seeking for so many moons.

His earlier thoughts had proven to be correct.

Although he’d been unable to find it when the protections had been at full strength, when he reached what would one day be the site of Gringotts, he nodded to himself.

He took no satisfaction in what he was about to do, but it was the path to victory with the least amount of blood spilled.

Even so, it would not be his preferred approach.

Harry liked to think of himself as quite noble and honourable for the most part. This, however, was one of the times that he knew being such would only result in the death of hundreds if not thousands of good men, and with that in mind, he proceeded, entering the tunnel whilst concealed within the folds of his cloak.

Quickly but carefully, he navigated his way through the twists and turns until he began to hear what seemed to be voices coming from up ahead, lots of voices.

The goblins were speaking worriedly, perhaps speculating as to what was transpiring outside of the city, none of them aware to the turn their evening was to take.

Drawing his wand, Harry cast the needed spells quickly, sealing the rest of the tunnels he could feel leading to where he heard the voices before stepping into an enormous cavern where hundreds upon hundreds of goblins were gathered.

Many were but children, and the rest were elderly, some not so far from death’s door.

Harry frowned as he gazed upon them, realising that Dark-Eye had made another mistake.

There were no guards here.

The king of the goblins had been so confident of the security of this place that he’d not seen fit to protect it beyond the magic that had been prevalent.

Not that he was the first to do so that Hary knew of.

His parents had done much the same when they had go into hiding from Voldemort, and entrusted the wrong person with their safety.

Dark-Eye had naively made a slightly different error, though one that was no less grave.

With a shake of his head, Harry cast a few more subtle charms before removing his cloak.

Those within the room fell immediately silent, and most quickly became fearful as he allowed the magic he’d used to haunt the city wash over them. The younger goblins all tried to flee into the adjoining tunnels, only to be forced back into the room.

Harry, for his part, conjured a large ball of molten fire he levitated above his left hand.

“You know who I am.”

One of the elderly goblins hobbled forward, leaning much of her weight on a cane he carried.

“Are you going to kill us, Crow?” she asked.

“Shouldn’t I?” Harry growled. “Do I not have the right to after what your kind has done to mine? Your king has slaughtered men, women, and children indiscriminately in his grasp of power. Why should I not kill all of you here and now?”

None answered, even if they did seem taken aback, and Harry’s nostrils flared.

“We suspected as much,” the older goblin murmured. “Dark-Eye is obsessed with power, obsessed with seeing our position in this world improved so that we stand above all else.”

“And he has proven he is willing to do whatever it takes to see it done,” Harry replied. “Before the night is done, he will die by my hand. Whether all of you here live beyond that is up to him.”

“Do you think you can stop him?” the older goblin chuckled humourlessly.

“I know I can,” Harry returned. “He has seen nothing I am capable of yet, but he will, as will those that follow him. His rebellion ends tonight, and I will kill every last one of you if that is what it takes.”

The goblins murmured worriedly amongst themselves, now seeming to understand the gravity of the situation they faced.

It was the laughter of the older goblin that caught Harry’s attention next, and the creature stepped forward, eyeing him curiously.

“Then if you are going to stop him, you will have need of me,” she declared.

Harry frowned as he took in her appearance.

“You’re his mother.”

“Much to my shame,” she sighed tiredly. “My son lost his way long ago. I watched as he murdered his father, and countless others. Most of us in here, we just want peace. Those that spoke out against him were killed on his rise here, and the rest of us learned to be silent. I know evil, Harry Potter. I have lived with it since my son was placed in my arms. You’re like him in some ways, but so very different. You are not evil. There is a darkness to you I cannot fathom, but not like my son.”

She continued to eye him for a moment before deflating.

“You would kill us if you needed to, and too many of my own have already been killed during this foolishness.”

“And mine. I will not allow him to win, and I will not lose any more so needlessly. That is why you are all going to come with me as my prisoners, then perhaps I can save the rest of your sons, brothers, nephews and fathers. Dark-Eye may refuse to lay down his weapons, but the rest will do so if they wish to save you. At worst, his army will collapse around him.”

Without waiting for a response, he unleashed a low guttural hiss, and dozens upon dozens of shadowy chains formed around the ankles, wrists and necks of the goblins, securing them.

For good measure, Harry conjured cages around them of the same magic before grasping another chain seemingly out of thin air.

This was connected to all of the cages and he nodded before preparing to transport the captured goblins to where he needed them.

(Break)

He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his bloodied hand, cursing as another half dozen goblins descended upon him, screaming their fury at the death of their brethren.

Thus far, the ranks of the men of Camelot were holding firm against the onslaught, but it was only a matter of time before the defences were breeched by the seemingly unending waves of goblins determined to take the castle.

“HOLD!” Owain roared, pushing back against the tide, ramming his sword through the guts of one of the enemies before lopping off the head of another.

Bringing his wand to bear, he bellowed as he cast a blasting curse, followed by a flurry of vicious hexes and jinxes that would make what remained of any victim’s life nothing short of a misery.

The screams of agony that followed were blood-curdling.

Still, Owain allowed himself. little joy from it.

The goblins he found himself pitted against had murdered and pillaged their way across the country, and each deserved whatever cam their way.

Even so, it wasn’t as though the humans were winning a resounding victory.

The ogres, trolls, giants, and other creatures the goblins had brought along were wreaking havoc, but not as terribly as they once had before Owain and Harry had extensively trained their forces.

With the enormity of the goblin’s own, Arthurs men were still able to fire off salvo upon salvo of arrows upon the ranks that had yet to reach the front; a small mercy compared to what it was they faced.

Worse yet, Dark-Eye had yet to enter the fray himself, but he would. Of that, Owain had no doubt.

“Bloody hell, how many more of them can there be?” Hooked asked.

Owain could only shake his head, idly wondering where Harry was and what he was doing.

“Too many,” he sighed, avoiding an overhead swing from an axe before dispatching the goblin with a severing curse.

The resulting blood splattered all over him, and once more, he wiped it from his face as he continued fighting in vain, shuddering as a wave of coldness rolled over the entirety of the battlefield.

“What the hell was that?” Hook questioned, looking towards the sky as an enormous lightning bolt tore across it.

The very ground trembled beneath their feet from the force of the thunder that followed, and another lightning bolt soon after smashed through a thicket of trees in the distance.

“I don’t know,” Owain said as he watched the trees being engulfed by flames.

He couldn’t see Harry anywhere, but he could sense the man was nearby.

If that was indeed so, he hoped he would act quickly.

Dark-Eye had finally entered the battle, and already, he was cutting quite the impressive path through the ranks of the men doing their utmost to fend them off.

(Break)

The humans fought with all the vigour he’d expected, but despite their admittedly advanced magic, it was proving not to be enough to combat the numbers disadvantage.

Slowly but surely, the goblin forces were breaking them down, and though they had not yet managed to reach the gates of the exquisite castle a short distance away, Dark-Eye knew it was only a matter of time before they did so.

Still, that same feeling of unease that had settled within him shortly before reaching Camelot had yet to abate.

At first, he believed it to be nervousness, pre-battle jitters that would shift when he found himself in the mix of violence, but it remained with him, growing stronger with each passing moment.

More troubling, however, was the notable absence of Harry Potter, who would usually be at the forefront of the fighting, cutting through swathes of goblins and creatures alike.

Where he was, Dark-Eye didn’t know, but that sense of unease grew stronger still the longer the fighting continued.

Parrying a blow from a sword, he sliced cleanly through the calf of the man that had attacked him, and before his foe could hit the floor, his throat had been slashed, his blood pooling on the ground at Dark-Eye’s feet.

Raising his wand, he felled another two in quick succession, one of the spells tearing the chest of a man wide open and the second exploding the eyes within the socket of the next.

There was little more gratifying than watching his enemies falter, than personally taking their lives from them.

For too long, the humans had been allowed to run rampant across the country, destroying it with their wars, their need for resources, and breeding like a horde of rats.

It sickened Dark-Eye to see how the land had changed over the decades, and he could only imagine how much worse it would get if left unchecked.

Although he had not planned to emerge so soon, he had seized the opportunity to do so, and this night would see his daring bear the fruit his own people sorely needed.

He winced as another rumble of thunder shook the ground beneath his feet, and the lightning that followed blinded him as the coldness washed over the battlefield, this time much more intense than the last.

“PUSH!” he snapped, doubling down on his own efforts to advance, only to stumbled as the cold magic grew in strength, along with the sense of unease that plagued him.

It grew stronger still as a loud cawing filled the air, and Dark-Eye looked up towards the sky to see an enormous, shadowy crow flying ominously above them.

“Potter,” he growled. “POTTER! WHY HIDE, YOU COWARD!”

As though the man was answering his challenge, Dark-Eye felt the familiar presence that had haunted London, haunted his people, and as he turned to face it head on, the sight that greeted him gave him pause.

Before him, only a dozen feet away in a clearing he had created amongst Dark-Eyes ranks was Harry Potter, his eyes an eerie white as they bored into those belonging to the king of the goblins.

Dark-Eye, however, had eyes for only one thing, and that was goblin Potter had secured to himself by a think, shadowy chain.

“Mother,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on the woman that had birthed him, though he quickly became aware of the dozens upon dozens of cages surrounding Potter. “How?”

“The how doesn’t matter,” Potter said dismissively. “What does matter is that you have a choice. All that remains to be seen is whether or not you make the right one. Make no mistake, I will kill them all without hesitation, your mother, and all the sons, daughters, mothers and fathers of all of your fighting men.”

Dark-Eye met the pale gaze of the man.

There was no hint of lie or deception thin them, and he could already feel the magic of the man waiting for the command to do his bidding.

How this had come to be, the king of the goblins couldn’t fathom, but as his grip tightened around the handle of his wand, Potter’s magic only became more deadly, more willing to carry out the threat he’d made.

His warriors looked to him to see what he would do next, many bloodied from the battle, but their eyes devoid of the same ruthlessness Dark-Eye possessed.

Somehow, some way, Potter had found the one weakness of his army, and to see their loved ones murdered in such a way would be more than enough for them to turn their back on him.

Dark-Eye chuckled humourlessly.

“Then what is it you want, Harry Potter?” he asked. “You have my attention.”

Potter did not grin victoriously, nor was there any smugness about the man. On the contrary, he became grimmer, his expression darkening as his gaze bore into Dark-Eyes’.

Another rumble of thunder sounded as the two stared at one another, this one louder and more powerful than those that came before it.

“Your head,” Potter eventually answered. “I will begin with your head.”