Harry Potter and the Champion of Darkness

Prologue: The Peak and Fall of Maldaras

" And those who save themselves on the Night of Narhassa will find only torment and unrest as the Era itself will begin, for he will rise again, freed from the eternal hold of hell by one too foolish to understand the magnitude of his own actions. The Earth itself shall quake in fear, for even it knows that nothing will be able to save it."

- Professor Trelawney's prediction, Harry Potter and the Wizards of Narhassa.

* * * * * *

A long time ago...

"So," laughed Maldaras wickedly as he curled his skeletal hands around a gnarled staff, and glared down upon the woman in front of him like an annoying fly that he was prepared to squash. "You are the champion the Light has called for to deliver this world out of my hands?"

The being known only as Maldaras to the world floated in the air before her, his great indigo satin robe lined with red trimming whipped about madly in the savage, black wind atop the mountain that would one day be known as Ben Nevis. The few parts of the man that peeked out from his embroidered sleeves and black mantle showed him as he was.

He was a skeleton, possessing neither a sly nor a devious countenance, but a constant skull, set in bone that could never shift with amusement or anger. His hollow black eyes harbored a pinpoint of orange light deep within their dark recesses while an eerie green smog blasted forth from his mouth as he spoke, radiating the pungent stench of death into the night air.

Narhassa stared at Maldaras dourly, her extremely large blade feeling light and powerful within her hands, as if it were ready to dance with its own energy.

"I would be less cynical and more fearful if I were you, Maldaras. I have disposed of your death knight elite guard, and now, I will dispose of you."

"Foolish outsider," spat Maldaras, a low rumble emitting from the mountain, as if it itself were reacting nervously to the creature's contempt. "My death knights were just pawns compared to me... they will rise again, twice as strong and twice as plentiful. You have only delayed the inevitable."

"Foolish lich," countered Narhassa as her long, blonde hair wiped about angelic white mail. "Do you not understand what the implications of a champion of Light are? Your death magic and primitive Dark Arts will not be able to harm me."

Maldaras calmly held his staff above his head and murmured a low incantation.

"Ximitxith... Xoxmomox... Ximixomx... Ximzoaxix," he chanted loudly, in a deep, hissing voice, his low sounding mantra shaking the very foundations of the mountain beneath them. Narhassa staggered and spread her feet apart to maintain a balanced stance.

The ends of the skeleton lord's staff shot out with red energy, coiling about the ends with a shimmering ripple that blossomed from the end and spiraled back down the shaft of the staff. When the energy faded, no longer was he holding a staff of wood.

The staff itself had turned into some sort of serpent, with neither a single head, nor a single tail. At the opposite ends of the weapon, the scaly green body split into three necks apiece, complete with their own large, fanged heads.

"I need not Dark Arts to undo you, Champion of the Light," hissed the undead skeleton, as each of the six snakeheads hissed and spat in Narhassa's direction. "Are you prepared to die, tonight?"

Narhassa bent her knees and squared her great sword, flaring brightly with white light, in front of her. Both of her hands gripped the massive hilt. "Not bloody likely."

At once, Maldaras drifted upon her as lightning began to clash in the sky above, for it was without a doubt that all of nature had shown up to watch this world critical duel of fates.

As independent, functioning units, the six snakeheads worked together, lashing out with dripping, black fangs, aimed to poison the angel.

In an impressive back flip, the angel avoided all six of the heads. She focused the blade out in front of her, and pointed the dangerous looking point upon her foe.

"I smite thee!" she cried, as a blast of pure, holy light rippled forth along the shaft of the blade and leapt off the point, streaking toward Maldaras with tenacious accuracy. Without a word, the lich removed one hand from his staff and lazily countered the bolt of holy light with a bolt of pure blackness. Both collided into each other and knocked themselves astray.

"You are a fool to trust in power that is not your own, Angel of the Light," said Maldaras, calmly straightening his stance and twirling his sextuple snake-headed staff in his left hand. "An angel like yourself can never truly aspire to greatness."

Narhassa lowered her blade again, glaring at Maldaras. "What would you know? You sold your soul hundreds of years ago for your power to be delivered."

Maldaras cackled haughtily, green smoke expelling further from his skeletal jaw as he laughed into the night.

"I never sold my soul; I sold my life." Maldaras rubbed his skeletal hands together, creating an ominous grating sound. "And now, in my un-life, I have aspired to greatness that mortal man can never even fathom. You, like I was, are a prisoner; you are a lowly, lowly prisoner to the powers of the Light. Should they fail you, you are as helpless as any common Muggle."

Narhassa moved in on Maldaras, swinging her holy sword with all her might. The skeleton lazily outstretched his staff as the snakeheads hissed and struck. Her hefty cleave bit into one of the snake's necks, though did not separate it outright. Her strike rewarded her with three bites, as one serpent sunk its teeth into her shoulder, another into one of her arms, and a third bit powerfully into her hip.

She screamed with agony as each wound lit up with fiery pain. The poison ran through her like fire, burning up her body from the inside. How pathetic of an end would this be; to be killed by a mortal without any effort was not a fitting end for an angel! Where would the light be for her when she returned to it, a failure? So she had beaten about ten death knights under Maldaras' command... they would rise again.

Was the light really this helpless against the dark?

And, just as she found herself slipping from this world, the snakeheads suddenly released their death-ensuring holds and recoiled back to the ends of Maldaras' staff. She struggled to rise, but her body was too heavy. She struggled to bear her sword, but the blade was too thick.

She was helpless, upon her knees, beaten by the lich.

"Only by gripping the darkness can you overcome the poison that flows through your body. Death is real and even something to experience for an outsider."

Narhassa closed her eyes, fighting the tears of hopelessness and despair. How could the light have failed me so easily?

"Here is the choice I offer you, Narhassa... Angel of the Light," cooed Maldaras, his voice his voice hanging in the night air like a ghost ship, bound for no distinct port. "Join me, embrace the darkness as your own, and shun the light as it has done you."

Narhassa found the strength to lift her head to behold the lich in his fullest glory.

"Serve me, and drink deeply from power that will be yours and yours alone," he said dryly, holding his snake staff above Narhassa's head. "Make yourself known to this world, and lead my death knights to glory."

She could feel the burning agony within her chest as she lost her strength of body and toppled to the ground, moaning with pain.

The lich calmly ground his fingers together, emitting a sort of crackling whine.

"I hate to put pressure upon this choice, but you have about twenty seconds of life left," he said factually.

Her blinding pain drew the last bit of reservation from her body; she did not want to turn from the light, for she loved it. In the simplest truth, relieving suffering was always more rewarding than causing it. Yet, here she was now... suffering and wreathing in pain, simply because the light was not strong enough to ever quench out the darkness in the world.

What was even the point of struggling? Her death would be meaningless, as would her return to the light.

No, she decided, as she felt her life slipping away. My life will have meaning... even if it is without light.

"Renounce the light," spoke the lich's voice into her head once again, "for only the darkness can save you..."

Without taking further pause to consider, Narhassa made her choice.

* * * * * *

The times to follow were known as the Dark Ages. Wizard fought wizard in an amazing, titanic struggle. Heroes fell, unable to organize themselves, while agents of evil, united under the reign of Maldaras, and led into battle by the vicious fallen angel Narhassa, purged the land of those who would oppose their reign of tyranny.

But it was Maldaras' cunning that put World Domination at his fingertips. By using his corruptive magics, he was able to turn many, many Muggles to serve him. Rallied by Narhassa, these Muggles became some of the strongest of Maldaras' elite guard, powered by the dark magic that soaked out of the fallen angel and the corrupting influence of the lich lord himself.

They were the first true Wizards of Narhassa.

And so it was, for nearly five hundred years. Maldaras and Narhassa, with world domination at their fingertips, clenched both the Wizarding World and Muggle World in an iron grip of fear. In their wake, the secret of magic was nearly made known, as many Muggles were taught the harsh truths of reality at the hands of the lich lord and his Wizards of Narhassa.

And, it was from this wake of destruction that four heroes emerged, with the strength to rally both wizards and unknowing Muggle troops in an attempt to overthrow the savage reign of Maldaras.

Rowena Ravenclaw, whose brilliant tactics landed the allies many victories against Narhassa.

Helga Hufflepuff, whose expertise at rallying loyal troops, both Muggles and wizards, served as the spine for the success of the allied wizards.

Godric Gryffindor, whose ferocity on the battlefield alone was enough to demoralize the legions of death knights under the command of Narhassa; he was more than a match for any Muggle with a sword or a wizard with a wand.

And finally, Salazar Slytherin, who worked out the most devious and cunning plan of them all: defeating Maldaras and Narhassa with one, swift stroke and banishing Maldaras for what everyone thought was for good.

Slytherin, in besting both Narhassa and Maldaras, had paid the ultimate price. When finally, he slew the fallen angel Narhassa, he took her essence upon himself. He had become a Dark Champion, embraced by death but never becoming one with it. His companions, Helga, Rowena and Godric knew not of his undead status, however, and founded a school in which to teach all magical potentials how to defend themselves in times of need.

And all the while, Slytherin worked behind the scenes on what he viewed as his sacred quest. Pureblooded Wizards were to reign supreme over the entire world, without fear of another Dark Ages. The Muggles of Narhassa were to be forever quenched from the world. After preparing the Chamber of Secrets for his own bloody coup of Hogwarts, Slytherin set out on a task that would take the better part of fifty years.

Rallying the descendents of the Wizards of Narhassa and led by Narhassa's corrupting influence, the newly formed Cult of Narhassa were led to the top of Ben Nevis. Upon reaching the summit, Slytherin betrayed those who had put their trust in them, forcing them to give their lives and souls to him through an artifact of his own design, a Sorolith... to prevent the Wizards of Narhassa from ever emerging again. Slytherin killed the children of those who failed to comply and, with his strange perverted sense of honor, allowed the children of those who did comply to live.

The sons and daughters of those slain faded into history, their untapped powers falling dormant over time. Slytherin, now charged by the powers of Narhassa and the souls of all the fallen wizards, turned his far sights back to Hogwarts. Just before his glorious descent back down the mountain to overrun the school, he was met by his former best friend, Godric Gryffindor.

The heavens themselves sat on edge while Slytherin and Godric dueled within Narhassa's chamber. In the end, however, Godric was slain outright and Slytherin was mortally wounded. It was then that the twisted powers of Narhassa flowed out of Slytherin, releasing their hold on him and, for the last moments of his life, granting him his sanity once again.

Once again, the fallen angel took form. Having fed off the souls Slytherin had claimed, and now charged by Godric's death, she was once again capable of rising. Invigorated and all too ready to pervert Slytherin's goal of Mudblood and Muggle destruction, Slytherin knew what must be done to safeguard his legacy.

He preformed Magus Ultimo, the final spell he would ever cast, stunning Narhassa into an eternal slumber before she could claim his soul. Using the Sorolith, he permanently bound her within Ben Nevis, within a cone that only himself or an heir of his would ever be able to break.

Struggling back up to the summit of Ben Nevis, Slytherin looked to the stars as he felt his life slip away. He outstretched the Sorolith, holding it high for the world to see what he had done. In death, he released the wondrous object, which rolled off his fingers and bounced off the summit, not to be found for nearly eight hundred years.

In honor of Gryffindor, the two remaining founders made certain that his legacy would always shine down from atop them. Helga and Rowena sealed the lair of Narhassa and placed the statue of a Griffon atop, so that Gryffindor's spirit would forever be able to shine down upon them from the grand spire of the mountain, and lived out the rest of their lives in peace.

But, as the old saying goes... evil never dies.

It always returns.