Spitefic: The Jester's Court (Part 1)

[surgeworks]

The end has come. Time for the monster to be punished.
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Harry did not immediately open his eyes when he awoke. He knew that he was awake, and he knew that he was not some place he needed to be. That much was evident in the hard ground beneath his body. But the sounds and scents, especially the scents, drove him to listen carefully, perhaps wondering if playing dead would be a better idea. He could hear crackling flames, and the odor of burning wood and corpses met his nostrils. After a moment of stillness, he opened his eyes and sat up.

He seemed to be in a forest, albeit a forest in which something catastrophic had happened. He could not see for the smoke that covered everything past a certain radius, which would have suffocated and poisoned a lesser person, but as Harry was now a fairy champion, it only irritated him. What hints of the sky he could find past the haze told him that it was a deep red color. The ground was black, and patches of it were shining with blood soaked into it that had yet to fully dry. The trees all around him were alight, not a single one untouched by the fire, all of them together creating a canopy of flames overhead. Harry could not remember what had brought him here, which meant he must have fallen into a trap of some kind.

There was a sound in the distance, and Harry tried to draw his wand, only to find that he didn't have one anymore. No matter. He raised his hand, having become more than proficient in wandless magic over the past year. There were footsteps reaching his ears, rustling crunches and squelches coming from some point in the distance and getting closer. Once he could pinpoint the sound, he turned towards it with his hand raised threateningly, and he saw the silhouette emerging from the black smoke. It was tall, and quickly resolved itself into the shape of one Albus Dumbledore.

"You!" Harry said. "Why have you brought me here! Explain!"

Dumbledore's eyes could not be seen clearly in the smoke. He knew that voice, however. It sounded...solemn. Not even that, dead.

"I did not bring you here. You came here of your own accord, and I followed you, as you wanted. I believe it was your intention to destroy me."

"I would not come here by myself." Harry said angrily, trying to focus his magic. "I would never be so foolish as to face you alone, without allies."

"Indeed you weren't." Dumbledore said in that same dead, hollow voice. He waved his hands, indicating the surroundings. "Look around you."

Harry did not want to take his eyes off of the Dark Ravenclaw, but did so to examine the forest around him once more. He looked around at the ground and trees and found nothing changed, until he looked up. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped in shock. On each tree, hanging from the lowest branches, was a flayed and horribly burnt corpse. His eyes frantically shot from one tree to the next, trying to find one that didn't bear this load, only to find none. There were so many trees in this wood, so this could only mean that this was the final rest of his beloved dryad brigade! 

Harry felt a sense of horror, sorrow, and fury. He had worked so hard, sacrificed so much of his time, to create that militia of dryads! He'd done so much to make them immortal, and it was all wasted! His most devout followers, his best players on the board, all wiped away! He could not fathom how Dumbledore had done it, stripped him of his most useful tools, even when they should have been unkillable and so very immune to harm! He whirled, facing Dumbledore again and throwing out his arm.

But nothing happened. His greatest enemy should, at this very moment, have been incinerated, but he did not get so much as a nosebleed. He tried again, this time trying to manifest a giant rock above his head rather than a giant fireball to throw, but again, there was nothing. In fact, he felt no flow of magical energy through his veins at all! What was happening?! Why couldn't he fight?!

"What have you done?!" Harry demanded. "Why am I powerless?!"

Dumbledore simply stared at him, then strode closer, close enough for Harry to see his face. His face was impassive, but his eyes... Harry had heard many stories about the great Albus Dumbledore, and knew that despite his usual twinkling, grandfatherly demeanor and forgiving nature, his anger was said to be terrifying to behold. But the expression behind his eyes was such that Harry wondered if he had gone right past fury and descended into something beyond emotion, beyond anger and grief.

"The same processes that stripped you of your powers also seem to have revoked your memory. It does happen. As for your state and that of your prior puppets, I am solely to blame. You must forgive me--fancying oneself invincible is folly of the highest order, and I am afraid that both your sense of battle tactics and your sense of imagination leave much to be desired. It wasn't much of a battle. Destroying you all was easy, if only in the practical, physical sense. You will have gathered by now, that I am not the false Albus Dumbledore that you have spent many months slaying for your own amusement."

Harry's blood ran cold. Not...the same Dumbledore? But that meant...

"And I am also well aware, of course, that you are not Harry Potter. Neither are your allies Luna Lovegood or Hermione Granger, or any of the names by which yourself and your spawn have operated. I know who you are, Lionheart."

Harry let out a snarl, a horrible sound that could only have come from some heinously cruel, inhuman creature. He would not hear that! He would deny it, over and over! He was Harry Potter, the real Harry Potter, the best Harry Potter!

"Creatures such as you are unpitiable. And I tried, I truly did. Your time playing your sick and twisted game is over, and it is now time for you to be punished according to your crimes."

Dumbledore's wand was drawn, and Harry stepped back and shielded his face with his arms. What awful spell would Dumbledore unleash, and what was this feeling running through him? Why was he frozen when he should be running and dodging, hiding behind trees and whatever other cover he could find? Was his mind paralyzing his body because he was, after all, impossible to kill? Or was this simply...fear?

But nothing happened. Harry slowly lowered his arms, having expected to have been slain by some mighty spell, only to find himself unhurt. However, when he looked at Dumbledore, he saw why: the wand was not pointing at himself, but above him. Just as Dumbledore's silhouette was shrouded in blue light, Harry looked above him. There was a singed leaf, floating down towards him, still aflame, but the flame was now blue. It fell too fast, and Harry was still too overcome in his surprise to dodge out of the way. It made contact with his forehead, and there was a flash of light.

Harry felt a jerk behind his navel, and everything was gone in a rush of swirling color. Where the portkey was taking him, he did not know, and would not find out, as he slammed into something very hard when he landed, and blacked out.