Harry Potter and the Prince of the Enchanted Forest

Chapter 13: In Which an Unusual Battle Ensues

As Filch drew closer, Harry felt that harsh pull out of his soul once again. Filch smiled even wider as he watched Harry suffer. "This is indeed my greatest dream come true. You, who should have been expelled dozens of times, have always been over-glorified because of that fluke when you were little. Now, you're finally getting what you're due, Potter. Just like a hard-working bumblebee gathers the fruits of his labor from a small flower, so I shall--"

"Achoo!" Ron interrupted.

Filch frowned. "For goodness sake, Weasley, cover your mouth!"

"I--achoo!--wud if--achoo!--I cud--achoo!--move my--achoo!--hads."

"Oh, very well." Filch loosened the ropes on Harry's friends, but he made another spell (before Daystar could stop him) that made their legs unable to move. "There."

"Argus, what are you doing?" Antorell said impatiently.

"I don't want to get spittle and mucus on my new robes!"

"Then why don't you just gag him and pinch his nose?" Vamist yelled.

"You may not have a problem with killing him, but I do. Now, where were we? Of course." He walked toward Harry again. The staff's tip began to glow blue. More magic was pulling straight out of Harry. The closer Filch got, the more pain Harry felt. His scar was burning.

It all happened within a fraction of a second. Daystar grabbed the hilt of his sword.

Ron sneezed really hard again, setting his hair on fire.

Hermione raised her hand quickly and defensively.

Harry blinked tightly, preparing for the worst.

BANG! Harry opened his eyes. Filch's staff remained only as a few large, wooden splinters on the ground. Filch looked in shock all around him, trying to complain but only speaking in gibberish.

"What happened?" Harry whispered.

"I don't know," Hermione replied. "It just . . . exploded."

"Well," Ron said confidently, "whatever I was allergic to, I think I finally got it out."

"What's that smell?" Hermione looked around. "It smells like burnt cinnamon."

Harry turned his head to Ron and cried out. "Whoa! Ron, what's with your nose?"

"What?" Ron asked. Then he saw. Smoke was filtering out of his nose. "Wow! That's never happened before!"

Filch finally found his tongue. "YOU TRICKED ME!" he yelled at Vamist. "No one tricks Argus Filch!"

"Nonsense," Vamist replied casually.

"Nonsense? You gave me a defective staff, and you know it!"

"The staff was fine. You should have gone for the Potter boy and only the Potter boy. You tried to absorb magic from the firewitch, didn't you?"

"Firewitch? What firewitch?"

"The one with his hair on fire, of course! Don't you know anything about firewitches?"

"What? Dumbledore let into his school countless firewitches during his administration? He's a lunatic! But firewitches have an ample amount of magic. The more magic I can get, the better, right?"

"That's just it. They have too much magic. The staff can't absorb it all, and that's why it exploded."

Meanwhile, since the staff exploded, Filch's freeze spells were broken. So Daystar and Hermione were helping Harry untie his ropes. Filch was too busy arguing that he didn't notice.

"So what should we do with this firewitch?" Filch asked.

"Well, he's immune to magic so a spell won't do much good."

"But I just--"

"Easy, Argus. We can still knock him out physically."

"But--"

"Argelfraster!"

Filch and Vamist turned to see Harry with his wand brandished. Nothing happened.

"No magic in the corridors, Potter," Filch sneered.

Ron ignored him. "Yeah, Argelfraster!" he yelled flinging his wand. Still nothing. "What makes this stupid charm work?"

"Argelfraster!" Hermione cried out at last. Filch started sinking slowly.

"What is this?" Filch cried in despair.

"Didn't they tell you when you signed up?" Daystar chuckled. "Once you take up the staff, you could encounter the uncomfortable circumstance of melting."

Vamist shrugged. "It's not permanent."

"I've been through it about a million times. I got through it ok," Antorell said.

Filch glared at him. Then he stared at Harry. "You will regret this, Potter! Mark my words, you will!" Then, he was nothing more than a brown puddle of muck.

Harry gazed up at Hermione. "How did you do that?"

Hermione shrugged. "It's magic, of course."

"But you're not even holding a wand!"

Ron gasped. Hermione only looked around uncomfortably. "Oops," she finally said. She pulled her wand out of her sleeve and pointed around defensively at the foes. "Argelfraster!" she yelled again. Nothing happened the first few times that she said the charm. "All right then. We'll take the long way home. Aqua Viscoso Limon!" Sudsy water shot out of Hermione's wand as though it were a water gun. She aimed it at the ghosts and at Vamist. All it accomplished, however, was that it put out Ron's hair.

"That's what I like about being a ghost," Zemenar smiled. "We never get wet."

"I'm not of the Society, foolish girl," Vamist sneered. "Besides, I have several anti-melt charms about me." He turned to Harry. "Now, young man, if you want to move a few steps ahead, then we'll go. And we will take more than what Voldemort prescribed."

Vamist looked slyly at the remains of Filch's staff. "I learned a very important lesson in my apprentice days: never break an enchanted piece of wood." He started whispering and twisting a ring, and each piece of wood turned into a miniature staff. Some splinters broke in two again before becoming another staff, until there were hundreds. Then Vamist went to the same spot where Zemenar and Antorell came out of the floor and chanted again. Countless ghosts came out of the floor, each wearing robes like Zemenar and Antorell's. No doubt this was the entire society.

Vamist raised his arms. Each staff rose above his head and reached a ghost. "Surround the boy! Don't let him get away!"

As the ghosts crowded around Harry, a great yell was heard. "Oh no you don't!" Daystar ran out in front of Harry with his sword drawn. "You try to come near any of my friends, and I'll stop you!"

One wizard laughed. "You're sword cannot kill that which is already dead."

"Oh, I'm not going to use it that way."

The wizards each tried knocking him out of the way with a spell, but each time he struck his sword out and absorbed the spell. So much magic was building around the blade, it started to hum and glow. Daystar was starting to get worn out. "Come on, Father. Where are you when I need you?" he whispered.

"Mew," a small voice said. Daystar looked back to see a tiny pink kitten directly behind him.

"Genie! What are you doing here?"

"What's that you're hiding, hero?" Antorell picked up poor Genie by the tail.

"YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!" Genie screamed.

"What's going on?" a voice cried. "Hey! Put the kitten down!"

It was Peeves. Antorell scoffed. "Or what?"

"You want a piece of me? Huh?" Peeves held up his hands in fisticuffs. "Nobody touches the Queen of Beauty without my say in the matter. Put 'em up man!"

Antorell rolled his eyes.

"Come on! You chicken?" Peeves proceeded to flap his arms and make chicken noises.

"You want to take me on? Fine. But just notice that you're rather outnumbered."

"All right then." Peeves whistled, and all the other ghosts of Hogwarts castle appeared behind him.

"What do you want at this hour, Peeves?" the Bloody Baron growled. "It better be good!"

"It is. Look, we've been invaded! They mean nothing but trouble, they do!" He made a trumpeting sound of a call to arms in his fists. "Charge!"

Harry didn't know why they bothered, but most of the ghosts went in right away to fight. The Fat Friar and the Grey Lady were the only ones who refused to join in. Harry couldn't really tell how it was going, but he noticed when Nearly Headless Nick was kicked out.

"Oh, Nicholas!" the Grey Lady cried. "Are you alright?"

"Ah, milady, I've never been better, since I died anyhow. Whoo! This takes me back to the old days! The Headless Hunt has nothing on this!"

"Daystar!" Mendanbar's voice cried. He and Cimorene had just entered the room. "Sorry we're late. We couldn't find where you were right away."

"It's Mendanbar!" Zemenar yelled. "Get him!"

The ghosts zoomed over in Mendanbar's direction, but he socked them in the jaw.

"What?" cried one wizard. "How could you do that?"

"I'm the one who's asleep here," Mendanbar grinned. "This is my dreamension. My mind's in control, and I can do whatever I want."

The wizards didn't know how to answer to this, so they continued to attack.

Quite suddenly during the battle, a ginger-feathered owl flew in from out of nowhere and started scratching Vamist's face with it's talons. "Ouch! Get off!" He shot a spell at the owl from his ring, but it missed. He looked angrily at Harry. "Why do you keep owls? What use are they to you? It's the stupidest thing I ever heard of!"

"Then send us letters from wizard to wizard," Harry answered. "Since they fly at night, they aren't usually noticed by Muggles. It's convenient!"

Vamist snorted. "You hypocrites! You hide from those who are lesser than you like scared, little mice do. You use all your powers for sports and to send letters. Why don't you take a stand? You could be helping kings! You could be ruling as kings! I'll show you what good your feather dusters are!"

This time, he took careful aim at the owl, but when he said the spell, only a few sparks came out of his ring. He shook it a few times and tried again. It only frizzled and shocked his hand. "What's wrong with this stupid ring?"

"That's the least of your worries!" Cimorene came to him holding up what looked like a golden figurine of a dragon. "This is a whistle. You call off your army, or I'll blow this whistle and you'll have a whole army of dragons to deal with." She peered over at Antorell and some other of the wizard ghosts. "Just like old times."

Vamist only grinned. "I had a feeling your son would try that. That's why I brought plenty of this." He reached into his robes and pulled out a bunch of purple leaves.

Ron gasped and started backing away toward the wall.

"What's the matter?" Harry said.

"I don't know, but I don't like that plant," Ron answered nervously.

Vamist saw the boy's fear. He waved his hand over the plant and whispered something. Suddenly the air smelled spicy. Ron cried out in pain, wheezed, and starting coughing uncontrollably.

"Ron! Are you alright?" Hermione cried.

Ron could not verbally answer. He shook his head and continued to cough.

Daystar abandoned his fight and charged toward Vamist. "I should cut off your hand for that! Stop it now!"

Vamist kept trying to make his ring work, but it still wasn't doing anything. So when Daystar attacked, Vamist fought him physically. He pinched Daystar in the back of his neck, and the prince fell down unconscious. The sword fell out of his hands.

"Daystar!" Harry yelled.

"Son!" Mendanbar rushed over to where the prince lay and reached for the sword. Yet before he could touch the hilt, he disappeared.

"What happened?" Harry cried to Cimorene.

"Oh no, he awoke. I got to go back, make sure he'll fall asleep again." So saying, the queen also disappeared.

Hermione rushed over to Daystar. "Ennervate," she said, pointing her wand at his chest. Nothing happened.

"Put your wand away!" Harry cried. "You don't want it to be nothing but a useless toothpick, do you?"

"But Daystar's the only one who can wield the sword, and that's the only thing that can counter the wizards' magic!"

"There's no time to lose!" Vamist yelled. "Circle the boy! Take every ounce of magic he has in him! Do it now!"

Hermione shook Daystar's body. "Come on, wake up!" she cried frantically. Daystar remained out cold.

Harry looked at Daystar's unconscious body, looked at Ron still sitting against the wall coughing, looked at the gathering ghosts, looked at Vamist's twisted grin. It reminded him of the time he was up against all those dementors. He needed his patronus in the worst way, but if he tried to conjure it they would absorb it into their staffs. There was only one thing to do.

He ran straight for the sword on the floor. "Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione screamed. The owl started hooting furiously, flapping its wings in a sharp, cutting motion and shaking its head.

But Harry wouldn't stop. "If I don't do it, no one will," he said sharply. He knelt down and picked up the sword.

At first, he thought he grabbed the blade instead of the hilt. A sharp pain cut into his hands like he had never felt before, almost as bad as the Cruciatus Curse. It was like he was holding a bolt of lightning. It shocked him all down his arms and burned in his hands. He screamed, even cried a little. Yet something in the back of his mind was crying, "Bite the bullet, Harry. Don't let go."

The wizards seemed undaunted. They continued to gather around him, their staffs glowing. Vamist continued to grin satisfied. They must have thought Harry couldn't do it. He'll show them. The magic of this sword will do it, if he could stand to hold it any longer.

Then, the pain in his hands didn't seem to matter anymore. The world just vanished, plunging Harry into darkness, just like when the lights went out in the Caves of Fire and Night. The sword was still glowing like a beacon, but Harry couldn't see anything past it. Then Harry noticed something building around the blade. Harry didn't see it, but he could feel a tingly mesh-net ball. Harry touched it and understood. He was starting to sense magic the way Daystar could. Then he thought he could hear voices whispering in the dark, saying, "You can do it, Harry, we know you can." Harry thought he recognized some of these voices, but he couldn't be certain. They sounded like students that he knew.

The words came out of his mouth before he understood what they were:

"Power of fire, wind, and earth,

Turn the spell back to its birth.

Raise the force by wood and flame,

And send them back from whence they came!"

He pushed (there was no other way he could describe it) the mesh-net off the blade, and it let go at an enormous force. It turned into some sort of vortex that blew like a tornado around the room. All the ghosts from the Society were taken in. Harry could hear them and Vamist screaming. The tornado disappeared into the floor.

It wasn't until they were all gone that Harry could see clearly again. He dropped the sword and looked at his hands. They were charred, blistered, and bleeding, all the way down his arms. Exhausted, he fell and passed out.