This was an indisputably dark form of magic, on par with the Unforgivable Curses. It was a sentient flame, or more precisely, a malevolent living entity capable of actively pursuing its prey until it consumed everything in its path.
No amount of water could extinguish it, for this fire could use water itself as fuel. From inorganic matter to organic life, even magical constructs, all were targets for its ravenous hunger. As the flames grew stronger, they became increasingly restless, yearning to devour even their creator. Only the most skilled wizards could fully control this dark magic.
It had to be said that using Fiendfyre in such a confined space filled with flammable objects was an extraordinarily dangerous act. The corridor and the underground classrooms on either side were brimming with things that could burn.
The dark magical flames morphed ceaselessly into shapes of fantastic beasts—phoenixes, dragons, and the like—roaring as they consumed every demon that dared to appear in their path, without exception.
"Control it, Dawson!" Scrimgeour bellowed, unable to restrain himself. "Everyone else, be ready! Follow my orders! Grip your wands tightly!"
"I know, Minister!" Dawson, the Auror, replied tensely. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, a testament to the strain of the spell and the searing heat of the Fiendfyre.
The other Aurors remained silent. As elite wizards who had faced dark wizards wielding Fiendfyre multiple times in the past, they understood Scrimgeour's intent: they needed to prepare to cast a spell together to rein in the out-of-control Fiendfyre.
The more spider eggs or Aranasi demons the Fiendfyre consumed, the weaker Dawson's control over it became. It wasn't an illusion—moments ago, a phoenix-shaped flame had lunged toward them. If Scrimgeour hadn't urgently repelled it with a spell, someone might already have been incinerated.
These flames were alive, but Harry could clearly sense they were not elemental in nature. They were a form of magical life, unbound by the elements.
Utterly malevolent.
Harry could even hear the wails of the elements. The ever-present elemental forces were being devoured by this evil fire. The entire underground corridor, except for the area where Harry and the others stood, had become a no-man's-land for the elements wherever the Fiendfyre reached.
This realization weighed heavily on Harry's heart, but he had to admit the spell had saved them considerable effort. At the very least, Harry and his companions no longer had to worry about the spider demons that could burst through the walls at any moment, or the countless eggs and tiny spiders crawling everywhere. It also conserved their strength and magical energy.
It was hard to say which was more formidable: the destructive energy of Fel magic or the all-consuming flames of Fiendfyre. Aranasi demon warlocks were hurling Fel spells to combat the Fiendfyre, but the local flames were, frankly, a bit rude—there were simply too many of them.
The desks, chairs, and teaching tools once stored in the underground classrooms, the decorative armor and statues lining the corridor, even the stone walls themselves—everything had been licked clean by the fire, stripped bare. The remains of demons and magical constructs alike had become fodder for the Fiendfyre. In the face of this now-colossal inferno, the Fel flames seemed woefully inadequate.
It would take Kil'jaeden himself to make a difference.
"It's in that classroom ahead!" Professor Flitwick shouted, pointing to a room on the right. "Merlin's beard! What have they done to this place?!"
The underground classroom had been utterly transformed into a demonic lair. Its walls had vanished, allowing everyone to see the glowing green portal at the center of the room. Demons were pouring out of it ceaselessly—the reason the castle's demon infestation refused to end.
"I can't hold it, Minister!" Dawson cried out desperately. "It's slipping!"
"Everyone, with me!" Scrimgeour commanded without hesitation. "Finite Incantatem!"
Kneeling halfway to the ground, Scrimgeour drove his wand forcefully into the stone floor. The other Aurors mirrored his action. Under the surge of magical energy, their wands seemed to gain astonishing resilience—no ordinary wood could pierce stone so easily.
Finite Incantatem, a spell as powerful as its name suggested, could end all magical effects within its range. When cast by multiple wizards, its potency and range were amplified.
It was also one of the few spells capable of stopping Fiendfyre. Though it was a pity the flames hadn't consumed all the demons, letting them burn unchecked risked reducing all of Hogwarts to ashes—and likely everyone present along with it.
The phoenixes and dragons formed by the flames finally dissipated under the spell's effect. All that remained were scorched black marks and wisps of smoke, not even ash left behind.
Clang!
A warhammer swung fiercely toward the back of Scrimgeour's neck as he struggled to rise. A barbed dagger materialized there, and with it, an Aranasi spider demon with bony wings appeared out of thin air, shifting from invisible to visible.
Her expression betrayed surprise, but before Harry's hurled fireball could strike her, she executed a nimble backflip, landing on the other side of the corridor.
"Interesting," the Aranasi said, raising an eyebrow. "A mere mortal saw through my stealth?"
"Your stench is so foul I could smell it from streets away, demon," Harry said coldly. "So, you're their commander?"
This was a textbook Aranasi demon assassin. Harry recalled that in their race, females held far higher status than males. Physically, they weren't particularly strong, often serving as warlocks or assassins.
"Commander?" The demon burst into laughter. "That's what those fools in the Burning Legion call their leaders, isn't it? Interesting. You seem to have dealt with demons before, which explains why you're here."
"So you're not with the Burning Legion?" Harry felt a weight lift from his chest upon hearing her call the Legion fools. Demons of the Burning Legion would never speak of themselves that way, and any who dared would face swift retribution from an unseen force.
Unlike the wild demons outside, those of the Burning Legion served a powerful master.
"Of course not," the Aranasi spider demon sneered disdainfully. "We're not slaves. You talk too much, mortal. Remember my name: I am Lannax, the first assassin of the Aranasi under the Spider Mother Aranath."
"Let's see what secrets your soul is hiding."
Harry's question seemed to enrage her. Under the tense gazes of the surrounding wizards, Lannax vanished into thin air.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Perhaps because he had just narrowly escaped death, Scrimgeour finally realized what had happened. Without time to thank Harry, he unleashed the Killing Curse at the spot where Lannax had stood.
The green light tore through the air, striking the wall at the corridor's turn. Lannax was long gone from that spot.
"Aparecium!"
"Revelio!"
"…"
The Aurors demonstrated the diversity of their spellwork, rapidly casting every anti-invisibility spell they knew. Some even pulled handfuls of strange powder from their pockets, scattering it into the air.
"Protect yourselves!" Harry shouted. "She's fast! Pair up, back-to-back, cover each other!"
Before his words could fully settle, Harry swung his warhammer to his right. The spider demon was there.
Surprisingly, she didn't target the more vulnerable wizards, who were slower to react. Instead, she seemed fixated on Harry—the one who knew about the Burning Legion and demons.
After missing her strike, Lannax vanished into the air again. The revealing spells and powders had little effect, causing only a faint ripple in the air at first before everything went still again.
"Targeting me, are you?" Harry scanned his surroundings and sneered. "I know what you are, Aranasi spider demon, right?
"I've heard about your kind from my warlock friend. From a pathetic planet already conquered by the Burning Legion. Sorry, your kind is so weak that my friend didn't bother saying much about you."
Clang!
The warhammer clashed with her dagger, sparking red. On the other side, the wizards were forced to deal with the demons still pouring through the portal, while Harry and Lannax remained locked in their standoff.
Patience was the key to victory.
From countless encounters with rogues, Harry knew that facing these rats in the shadows required patience. (No offense, rogue friends.)
"Getting mad?" Harry taunted deliberately. He had to keep this demon focused on him, or the wizards' slower reactions and abilities would likely lead to their deaths.
"Why would I be mad?" Harry continued. "Your home—sorry, I can't even recall what your pathetic planet was called. No one cares. It's long been the Burning Legion's territory, and your entire race was turned into demons."
"So what makes you think you can look down on the Burning Legion? Calling them fools?" Harry laughed loudly. "If they're fools, what does that make you? The garbage crushed by the Legion? Fools among fools?"
"You're just a remnant hiding in some corner of the Twisting Nether the Legion hasn't bothered to touch. Look at your ugly form. No matter how much you deny it, you're a demon—a demon created because of the Burning Legion's invasion. Your race is gone."
"Shut up, mortal!"
The demon's shriek echoed. Harry's words had struck a sacred, untouchable nerve, mercilessly tearing away the veil she'd draped over herself, forcing her to face the brutal reality.
The dregs of a defeated race.
"Got you."
Provoked to the brink of madness by his words, her stealth was no longer flawless.
It proved that even demons had things they held dear, just as the World Tree mattered to Archimonde or Velen mattered to Kil'jaeden.
This was what they called obsession.
Noticing a subtle distortion in the air, Harry swung his warhammer, wreathed in storm energy. Frost spread like serpents across the floor, and even the ceiling was ablaze with fire.
One strike.
Just one!
The fragility of the rogue class was laid bare. Even a demon's body could be shattered with a single blow. Lannax's bony wings snapped, her right ribcage caved in, and she collapsed to her knees, no longer the arrogant figure she'd been. Her eyes burned with hatred as she glared at Harry.
"You're no assassin, demon," Harry mocked. "If you can't stay calm at all times, you might as well find a quiet corner in the Twisting Nether to retire—if you get the chance."
"You—"
Crack!
Uninterested in hearing her dying words, Harry swung his hammer twice more, crushing her skull.
Dead beyond doubt.
With the leader of the demon invasion force eliminated, destroying the portal was straightforward. They only needed to dismantle the magical array on the ground and the rune stones brimming with Fel energy.
Demons were like a pile of reeking garbage, polluting wherever they went. Even after killing them, one had to grit their teeth and deal with the lingering Fel taint.
This was Hogwarts. If they couldn't fully purify the demonic corruption and remove every trace of Fel energy, a curious young wizard might accidentally come into contact with the residue and turn into a budding warlock. That would be a disaster.
Some with exceptionally strong wills might resist the corruption of Fel energy and hold true to their principles, but such individuals were rare. Most, no matter how kind they'd been before, would succumb to the Fel's influence, becoming cruel and obsessed with power.
Harry had worked with Illidan and his demon hunters. Even among their ranks, betrayals happened—those who went from controlling demonic power to becoming demons themselves.
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