The silver dust moved in the air slowly, with a hypnotizing rhythm. They moved like the wind, but not along with it. They moved very very slowly, twisting and twirling and glimmering with the silver moon light.
They dispersed slowly, and the dementors moved away from each grain of silver dust as if it physically burnt them.
And Richard, standing in the middle of the glowing silver field held up his free hand, as if to touch the ethereal silver.
His finger brushed against a bright note of light, and his maddened expression dropped completely.
It shifted to a mask of emotionless cold with an unnatural swiftness.
"You know.." The sound of each syllable he spoke was as clear as spring water. "Ive always wondered about dark and white magic."
Where no one spoke or dared to move, the sound of each word was carried along with the winds to the ears of those whose attention was locked on the figure that walked with no fear in the midst of nightmares.
"Why are dark magic and light magic so different? Why do some emotions produce brilliance while others drag darkness to the world."
Richard didn't know to whom he spoke. He didn't even know why he did it. He had never intended to let anyone know what he had done. But....
His hand reached out, and the dissapating notes of light drew closer again.
"Emotions are emotions. Light, dark...these are both effects that magic brought out to the world."
His wand's metallic surface felt like ice in his left hand. It was jet black, completely contrasting to the white and warmth that was slowly gathering in his right hand.
It felt foreign. Yet at the same time....nostalgic. As if it was something he had known years ago. Warmth...something he had known a lifetime ago. But never so clearly.
"I've wondered.." His voice turned dreamy as his gaze was transfixed on the brilliance that gathered softly to his arm. "A creature born for evil like me...will I be able to see that other side too? Maybe.... I despite my nature could still be brilliant? "
A smile cracked through that masked. A smile that showed teeth, and yet remained very disconnected from the rest of the emotionless face.
It reminded Hermione of those models of teeth she had seen her parents use to demonstrate proper brushing techniques. A hideous lopsided smile.
"Expecto Lumen."
Unlike a patronus, what emerged with a wave of his black wand was not ethereal silver white mist. But rather a light that was white, but so tainted with brown it looked similar to the color of a milk tea.
That was everything he had accumulated for weeks. He tried romance, he visited orphanages, he brought kittens to his home, he spent time with Tonks...but he couldn't lie to himself. He was doing them for magic. Emotions rouse magic. And he was looking for exactly that. A reverse obscurus one could say.
And this was all he had accumulated.
When he shaped that tiny bit of power at the tip of his wand, it was no bigger than a tennis ball.
"I can't be good. But my magic can be." Richard felt the notes gather, and used his sword circuit to shape the motes, completely ignoring the dementors who arrived closer and closer as the notes dissapeared.
"Lust can become love, sloth can become content, gluttony to satisfaction and pride to will. All I needed was a proper formula and a proper engine."
And he had found those in the evil piece.
"Substract self, using self ..it was all about identifying the proper variables and removing them from both sides of the equal sign... Thank Akuja's notes and filthy devil magic."
Richard garbled somethings no one but himself could understand. How could they? They never tried to find a way to understand a reality altering formula from one of the underworld's smartest devils. He had failed. Very spectacularly. But he studied a little, and it had proven its worth.
The sword outline formed, and it began projecting. Richard knew what he wanted. A magic sword. Made just like the sword of Gryffindor, but bigger. Like a longsword.
As it began manifesting to reality, the notes of light were moved within, becoming paint to the art. Richard's wand touched the forming shape, placing the light he had gathered there.
To him, his wand felt like a part of the creation at that moment. In a weird way, his wand could guide his intent to the magic that was happening.
His wand moved like a brush of a master artist. With a fast horizontal draw, he shaped its blade. A twirl, and a flick to shape the hilt, and a rise and fall of his brush as he soaked the creation in its brilliant paints.
He had great expectations for it.
"Let dark and light merge the split world as dawn and dusk."
Let this turn me whole again.
"Let a ray of light fall onto the darkest lands, and light a single lamp in the forbidden darkness, where it shall shine brighter than the most brilliant sun"
Each word was so packed with emotions, and intent that the phrases themselves seemed magic.
The motes were sucked in, yet the light only shone brighter.
The sword, which started as goblin steel drew more and more magic, growing as magic began manifesting. And Richard stared at the light directly as it grew brighter and brighter.
And then, it was complete.
Richard gripped the bright sword with its hilt.
It burnt him. But not too harshly. It was a comfortable sensation. Like that of the warm sun that burns on the first day after a long winter.
It was searching for his evil, his dark magic roots. And it would turn his worst magic into what he had missed for so long.
Release it.
He wanted to drive away the dementors. He wanted to experience the power, he wanted to wield the power of light.
It didnt. It was waiting for something. What he held now was merely a spell. For it to become something, it needed a name.
Only things with names possess existence.
Richard gripped the handle, and felt the power flow through him. The heat at his chest was enough to make his breathing ragged.
But he already had a name. And it would be a waste not to call the name and unleash the power he had desired for so long.
"Awaken, Exanima"
....
Further away, much more than a hundred meters was a figure who was dressed in black.
He was tall, gaunt, and his face was hidden.
His hand gripped a knarled wand made bone white.
His reddened eyes hidden under a hood narrowed, and he raised his wand. But made no moves .
A second later a massive wave of white, illuminated the entire woods as it moved past him in blinding speeds.
Though it did nothing but ruffle his cloak, the stranger glared at the origin of the power and bared his teeth.
"Tsk. Already this level? "
He kicked a burnt cloak, though it was not a true cloak. It was merely the remains of a dementor who was too unlucky.
The man took out something glass tied with a chain from his cloak, and glanced at it.
Then his gaze moved up further, to the massive castle of Hogwarts.
" Since youve shown me your hand, Its time to show you mine."