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Faint lines remain etched upon the weathered ruins, blurred and worn. The magical inscriptions that once adorned these stones are now nearly illegible, their power long faded. Time, the gentlest of blades, silently erases all traces of existence.
A pair of eyes scanned the delicate patterns that seeped through the smallest crevices. Beneath the blood-soaked square lay a hollow chamber, one that Grindelwald had once explored. Yet, like all other seekers, he left with nothing.
Not every ruin holds treasure; in fact, most are desolate. Chests that gleam from afar often turn to dust before one even approaches, scattered by the breeze that senses one's arrival.
With a spell, Harry cleared an entrance choked with soil, vines, and moss. He descended the broken stone steps into the ruins below. Around fallen pillars lay hardened, dark traces. Skeletal remains still held the shape of human bodies, yet the eerie blackened bones suggested otherwise. In the remains of one shattered skull, Harry noticed a bony horn protruding from the top—a mutation that made him doubt the remains were even human.
Although the supporting columns had nearly disintegrated, the ten-meter-high chamber gave no sense of collapse. Those pillars seemed merely decorative. Along the walls, remnants of magical inscriptions still emitted a faint glow.
The room was filled with delicate, cobweb-like threads of gray-white light, so faint they were barely visible. These thin, pale lines flowed through carved grooves, tracing out a complex tapestry of magical script.
The ancient wizards didn't use Old English; that language hadn't even emerged then. They wrote in runic script, today known as Ancient Magic Runes, which differ from the 24-character Muggle runes. With 49 letters, each magical rune held unique effects. Originally, spells were crafted in runic language, but over time, complex magical scripts faded as wizards discovered simpler ways to cast spells without written incantations.
To an ordinary wizard, these crumbling ruins held little value. The ancient magic, rough by modern standards, seemed unworthy of study. Although ancient wizards left behind ruins that survived the ages, their construction relied on brute force rather than universal magical techniques.
But for Harry, who could perceive ancient magical energy, these lingering traces were the greatest treasure.
As he neared the center of the web-like structure, a gray-white vortex began to reveal itself, reminiscent of the black-silver vortex he had encountered in the Forbidden Forest ruins. The moment he touched this vortex, a monochrome world unfurled.
Suddenly, before Harry stood an elderly silver-haired man clad in ancient armor. Wrinkled skin, like the rings of an old tree, bore the weight of time's passage. Older than Dumbledore himself, the man's frame was remarkably strong. Standing nearly six foot three, his muscular build strained against heavy armor, contrasting with his aged face.
Harry noticed the ornate giant bow hanging from the man's back, studded with countless jewels. Even without sunlight, it shimmered in dazzling hues.
Before firearms or modern wands reached Europe, wizards here had long used bow-shaped wands. This scene was likely centuries, if not millennia, old.
In the grayscale world, the old wizard alone appeared in color. As he opened his mouth, speaking to the empty air, Harry couldn't understand his words. But the man soon began tracing strange gray-white characters in the air.
Harry, though untrained in Ancient Magic Runes, quickly transcribed these characters onto parchment.
The old wizard spoke for a while, and Harry sensed something peculiar. It was as though the man intended to convey a message to him.
It felt as if the wizard had somehow known that, hundreds or even thousands of years later, someone would stand here, witnessing this scene.
After the gray-white characters faded, the elder took a few steps forward. Instantly, the empty monochrome space filled with unsettling artifacts that sent chills down Harry's spine.
A colossal stone giant, standing over thirty meters tall, was placed at the room's center. Without any introduction, Harry recognized it as a high-ranking demon, perhaps a Centurion or above.
Previously, Voldemort had opened an Abyssal Gate, through which a demon Centurion had attempted to emerge, only to be crushed by the portal's collapse. That demon, at most fifteen meters tall, stood at half the height of this giant. This creature before Harry was likely a demon Warlord, a supreme general among demons, captured and brought into the wizarding world.
Is this man insane?! Harry thought. But as the elder stepped up a wooden staircase onto the reclining giant's body, Harry's anxiety eased.
The demon Warlord was clearly dead, with its chest and abdomen torn open to form a vast cavity. Suspended in the middle of this hollow was a crystal-like, massive 'heart.'
Unlike the lesser demons, Warlords had only a single magical core. Their cores weren't interconnected with web-like channels; instead, this heart resembled a tightly knotted ball of threads, the sole wellspring of their magical power.
Under Harry's watchful gaze, the old wizard stepped through the air until he reached the massive, tangled core. He removed the enormous bow strapped to his back.
Harry focused intently on the man's every move. After setting aside the bow, the wizard reached out to grasp the "ball of yarn," skillfully finding a frayed end. In moments, the core had unraveled into a thick cord, about two or three meters in length. In its center, encased within the strands, lay a glassy hexagonal crystal about the size of a marble, with one end of the cord connected to it.
The elder wizard then lifted the giant bow and carefully wrapped the long cord around its limbs and string, coil after coil. Chanting complex incantations, his expression shifted to one of deep reverence, with hints of tension and excitement. As his voice rose in intensity, the cord around the bow began to melt, its essence seeping swiftly into the elaborate weapon.
Finally, the wizard fell silent, clearly anxious. Harry also held his breath. As seconds ticked by, a red glow gradually ignited along the bow's body.
Suddenly, the old wizard burst into hearty laughter, nearly causing Harry to jump. The joy on his face was unmistakable, making him look years younger. Radiant with excitement, he gripped the bow, pulled the string taut, and in an instant, a massive magical arrow formed. With a release, the arrow shot skyward, piercing through the roof of their chamber and creating a vast crater over twenty meters in diameter.
The unleashed magical force tore straight through to the heavens. In an instant, the once-clear sky darkened with gathering storm clouds. Harry blinked, finding himself now standing atop a towering spire, the old wizard by his side. As he scanned the distant horizon, he saw only one sliver of light beyond the vast shroud of clouds.
With his limited magical knowledge, Harry couldn't confirm whether such a spell could truly exist—something with power so terrifyingly destructive. If magic of this caliber was real, wizards indeed possessed a godlike power to reshape the world.
The old wizard, caressing the great bow with delight, turned and proudly displayed his weapon to Harry. His face radiated a pure, childlike joy, like a child thrilled by a long-desired toy.
Harry stood, slightly bewildered, until the wizard's strange utterance brought him back to attention.
"Lok-Wuld-Kest"
Gray-white ancient magic surged from within the elderly wizard, transforming into a pillar of light that pierced the sky, stirring the clouded heavens into a fierce, whistling gale.
"Sky, whirlwind, storm?"
As Harry grasped the meaning of these words, a titanic waterspout rose from the sea, linking sky to ocean. The monstrous vortex consumed an endless torrent of clouds like a colossal maw. Within seconds, the sky cleared again, sunlight flooding the land. Suddenly, billions of tons of seawater plummeted from above as the cyclone vanished.
But before he could glimpse the wrathful tsunami crashing over the ocean, the black-and-white world fractured and faded, revealing the dilapidated pillars of the ruined chamber once more.
The gray-white vortex slowly dissipated, and the entire vision felt like a fleeting dream.
"Was that... the legendary luck of a true wizard?" Harry muttered.
(End of Chapter)