ATTENTION: NEW DARK STORY POSTED – THE DEMON WITHIN
I've just released the first part of a new project that dives into the darkest corners of the Wizarding World. It's a tragic horror featuring Harry Potter as the lead, with Voldemort playing a chilling role in the shadows.
Fair warning: This is a short, dark, and tragic horror story—read it only if you have the stomach for it! It involves dark arts, rituals, and major character deaths.
This is the 1st out of 6 chapters, and the completed story will be approximately 15,000 words long. You can find it now through my profile or signature, depending on where you're reading this.
I'm dying to know if you like this darker direction—please drop a comment and let me know your first impressions!
***
Dumbledore didn't blink an eye to defend himself, even though I was still pointing my wand at him. His eyes no longer twinkled kindly; instead, a sudden moisture glistened in them, and his hands trembled ever so slightly.
Slowly, almost as if in slow motion, he raised his hand to his face and took off his half-moon spectacles. Without them, his eyes looked smaller, more tired, and unnaturally exposed. He bowed his head and began to methodically clean the lenses with the hem of his colorful robes. It was a purely mechanical gesture—we both knew the glasses were clean, but he desperately needed somewhere to fix his gaze. He needed those few seconds of silence to re-bury the names I had just spat out into the light.
"It is said," he finally began in a low, raspy voice, still not looking at me, "that knowledge is a gift. But sometimes, Patrik, knowledge is the heaviest curse a man can carry. Wherever you know those names from... I hope you also understand the pain that hides behind them."
"The exact same pain you just caused me... And why? To find out if I even have feelings? To see if I'm human enough for your plans?" I asked icily. I was keeping my anger under control only with a massive effort. I felt like blasting everything in the room to pieces, but instead, I just gripped my wand tighter.
Dumbledore put his glasses back on his nose, but his gaze wasn't the same. It held a sadness that couldn't be masked by any polite smile. Finally, he looked me straight in the eye. I didn't feel him attempting Legilimency, and I didn't dare try it myself.
After a moment of silent observation, he spoke to me: "In my life, I have met only three wizards with a talent and power similar to yours, Patrik. The first one I loved, and later I was forced to defeat him. As you correctly noted, it was Gellert Grindelwald. The second was Tom Riddle, the heir of Salazar Slytherin. I tried to lead him toward the light, even as he was falling uncontrollably into darkness. Today, you know him by the name Lord Voldemort."
He paused for a moment, as if those names weighed a ton in the room.
"The third is you," Dumbledore continued. "A first-year who clearly commands wandless magic. You have an affinity for fire and a talent so immense I fear you might burn everything around you. You may blame me for putting you in front of the mirror to see if you have feelings, but I think you understand me. Your distant aunt was Gellert's right hand, your father followed Voldemort... Do you really think I'm not afraid of you becoming the next Dark Lord? I couldn't handle another one, especially when you grew up in the same orphanage as Voldemort."
I stared at him, and one single certainty settled in my mind. Dumbledore wasn't an evil man. He truly didn't wish ill on anyone, but he was a complete fool. All that power had gone straight to his brain and probably scrambled it, because he was honestly, truly losing his fucking mind. He lived in a world of his own fears and the shadows of the past.
"You've completely lost your fucking mind," I blurted out in disbelief. Oops.
However, I immediately continued, not giving him a chance to react to my bluntness: "I'd bet my life that both Voldemort and Grindelwald had feelings. Which makes your betrayal of Grindelwald all the more cruel. And for what? So that corrupt politicians could continue to keep the country in stagnation? If you treated Riddle the same way you're treating me now, then I'd say you bear direct responsibility for his fall into darkness."
Dumbledore stared at me in silence, shocked. He clearly didn't expect this level of honesty. Where Tom Riddle was a master of pretense and diplomacy, I was far too direct and raw. I wasn't attacking him with spells, but with pure, unfiltered truth, which he probably hadn't dared to hear from anyone in the last fifty years.
I didn't wait for an answer and continued: "War is still raging in the world, whether in Africa, Asia, or right next to us in Europe. Every day, thousands die violently and tens of thousands from catastrophic living conditions. And you're here worrying about Voldemort, who killed maybe a thousand people? Who cares that Muggle-borns or half-bloods have trouble finding jobs while Muggles are literally leapfrogging us technologically and socially? Magical England is dying, Professor. Our only advantage is that we have a magically more powerful population than the surrounding states, but even that won't last forever. There has been no real progress here in the last fifty years! Even your robes have barely changed."
Dumbledore just listened in silence. His face was in shadow, but I felt my words hitting him like physical blows.
"You are so trapped in your battle of good versus evil that you're missing how the world is slipping through your fingers. England definitely needs some 'Dark Lord' to finally kick them out of this decline, for which you are primarily responsible!" I added, and this time I finally turned toward the door.
I stopped with my hand on the doorknob and gave him one last look over my shoulder. "But it won't be me. The position of Dark Lord involves way too much work, and I'm more interested in personal power and a Tequila Sunrise somewhere on a beach. Happy holidays, Dumbledore."
I swung the door open and left him standing there in the dust and shadows of his own mirror. I was mentally exhausted, but I felt incredibly free.
***
After the confrontation with the Headmaster, I was starving from all the stress. I decided to head straight to the school kitchens. I knew the kitchen was located under the Great Hall, near the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. It didn't take long before I found myself in front of a painting depicting a bowl of fruit. I knew that to enter, one just had to tickle a specific piece of fruit. I immediately tried the pear; it was the largest and most tempting.
Bingo! The pear giggled, turned into a green handle, and I walked in without hesitation.
The room was enormous with a high ceiling—it was an exact copy of the Great Hall directly above it. I saw dozens of house-elves scurrying around, preparing dinner. As soon as they spotted me, work stopped for a moment, and all those large eyes were fixed on me.
"Young master! Does young master need help?" the nearest elf squeaked and bowed so deeply his long nose almost hit the stone floor. Others immediately began to gather around him, clutching dishcloths or wooden spoons.
"What's your name?" I asked, not wanting to yell "hey you" or just snap my fingers.
The elf's large, tennis-ball eyes widened even more, and he froze for a moment as if his processor had crashed. "Young master... young master asks for a name?" he stammered with emotion. "Young master is so kind! I am Dudi, sir. Dudi at your service!"
"Nice to meet you, Dudi. I'm in the mood for some good fruit pie. Do you have anything? And I could use a moment of peace," I requested tiredly.
"Right away! Apricot, young master! Straight from the oven, sir, straight from the oven!" Dudi squeaked excitedly and immediately pulled me to a small table in a remote corner of the room, where there was relative peace from the main cooking. The other elves dispersed back to work after his energetic gesture, but I could still feel their curious and friendly gazes.
Dudi returned a moment later with a steaming plate. The smell of baked pastry and hot apricots immediately filled my nose, and I felt my mouth water. Along with it, without asking, he placed a glass of chilled pumpkin juice on the table.
"Dudi, please, could you bring me a glass of milk instead of that pumpkin juice?" I asked him.
Honestly? I couldn't stand sugary drinks. It was a habit I carried over from my past world. I vividly recalled my student internship in Greece, where I worked as a bartender in a hotel. Great memories, except for one detail—the tap water there was undrinkable, so I was constantly pouring oversweetened sodas and juices into myself. Ever since then, I've been fed up with sugar in my drinks.
Dudi hesitated for a moment, blinking in surprise, but then an even wider smile settled on his face. "Of course, young master! Milk! Fresh and cold, right away!"
I didn't understand how anyone could be mean to the elves... they were great. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and they treated me like staff in the most luxurious all-inclusive hotel.
"Would you like anything else, sir?" Dudi asked eagerly, his eyes shining with pure enthusiasm.
"I'd like another piece of that pie. And Dudi... from now on, call me Patrik," I told him calmly.
Dudi snapped his fingers, and an entire baking tray with hot pie immediately flew to us from a nearby table. With another snap, knives rose into the air and cut a generous portion with surgical precision, and after a third snap, a new piece landed right in front of my nose.
I nodded approvingly. Their magic was fascinating—it was quiet, powerful, and incredibly detailed.
I signaled to Dudi that would be all for now. With my mouth full of pie, it was hard to talk anyway, and he understood; he left me in well-deserved peace.
It was incredible relaxation. After the mental carousel I went through today, I really enjoyed every bite and every sip of milk. I sat there, watching the busy elves and slowly tidying up the chaos the Headmaster had left in my head. Here, in the warmth of the kitchen, the world seemed simpler.
***
After relaxing in the kitchen, I moved back to the common room. I didn't have the slightest desire to study, and certainly not to practice spells. I just wanted to sit quietly by the fire and deal with absolutely nothing.
At that moment, I missed my girlfriend and our world together incredibly. The idea of an evening with Netflix, peace, sex, and a cold beer... those were things that no wizarding castle could ever make up for. I stared into the dancing flames in the fireplace and felt lonelier in this world than ever before.
The common room was empty. Everyone was currently up in the Great Hall for dinner, while I had my sweet feast in the kitchen. I had time all to myself. I enjoyed the softness of the comfortable couch and the hypnotic crackle of wood in the fireplace. The greenish reflections from the lake behind the windows and the glow of the fire created a strange peace in the room that slowly lulled me to sleep.
I don't know how much time passed. I was in a half-sleep from which I was startled only by the thud of the stone doors opening and the rush of classmates returning from dinner.
Before a moment had passed, Agnes was already sitting by me. Like a true "dragoness" (or rather a worried mother), she immediately started on me: "Where were you, Patrik? I was worried about you when you didn't show up for dinner," she blurted out carefully, examining me closely.
I just shrugged my shoulders tiredly. "Here and there, Agnes."
Agnes was already inhaling for another series of questions, but she stopped mid-motion. She probably noticed my expression. I must have looked truly miserable and exhausted because she immediately closed her mouth and her gaze softened. She was incredibly observant. Instead of more questioning, she just sighed and sat a bit closer, letting me know she was there if I needed anything but wouldn't force me to talk.
"Do you want to play chess?" she asked after a moment of silence.
"Sure," I agreed.
In reality, I had absolutely no idea how to play chess. The last time I'd touched it was maybe twenty years ago back in primary school in my past life. I barely even knew how the pieces moved, but it was still a better option than sitting and drowning in depression like a pile of misery.
Agnes was visibly pleased. She ran up to her room and returned a moment later with a set that looked quite expensive. It wasn't just any ordinary chess set carved from wood; the pieces were made of precisely crafted stone and polished metals. As soon as she unpacked them on the table, the stone knights began sharpening their swords and the pawns tapped their feet nervously, as if they couldn't wait for the battle.
"I'll take black," I said, pulling the set of heavy, dark pieces made of polished obsidian toward me. Agnes smiled and set up her white, marble army.
As soon as we began, I found out that wizarding chess had nothing to do with the quiet logical game I remembered. My pieces weren't just lumps of stone—they were little, aggressive morons.
"Hey! Where are you sending me, you blockhead?!" my own pawn roared at me when I hesitantly moved him two squares forward. "You want to get me killed on the very first move? Look at that knight opposite me, he has an axe bigger than my head!"
"Shut up and walk," I growled at him. Agnes just laughed quietly and with amusement.
"You have to trust them, Patrik. If they feel you don't know what you're doing, they'll stop listening to you," she advised and gracefully moved her bishop. The white marble bishop immediately swung a stone club, and my black pawn barely jumped out of the way, managing to give me a vulgar gesture in the process.
I would love to announce to you all here that I am a hidden chess genius and that I totally crushed Agnes. Unfortunately... I would be lying. I had absolutely no chance. She smashed me four times in a row, not forgetting to sweetly laugh at me with every pathetic move I made.
"I see you're enjoying this, Agnes," I remarked with grace as her rook brutally decapitated my last knight. I didn't mind losing at all. I probably deserved this "thrashing" after all our magical duels where I dominated. And honestly? The chaos on the chessboard was exactly what I needed to distract my thoughts.
"Of course I'm enjoying it! I can't believe you're this incompetent at chess," Agnes blurted out and laughed from the heart. "Just this morning I would have bet my life that you're perfect at everything, but this... this is a pure disaster, Patrik!"
I just had to smile bitterly at that. No one was perfect, and I certainly wasn't. I've made an incredible number of mistakes in my life, and this chess was just a harmless shadow of my real failures from the past.
***
Author's note:
What do you guys think about our confrontation with Dumbledore? Did it turn out the way you expected, or were you hoping for a high-stakes duel?
The house-elves are absolutely amazing—I could honestly see myself having one in my own kitchen, even though my girlfriend still makes the best apricot pie in the world!
And our "dragoness" Agnes strikes again! She absolutely crushed our MC a few times and had a good laugh at his expense. I'm really starting to like Agnes; she's becoming quite the favorite!
***
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Upcoming Chapters:
20. Blood and Tears of the Rosiers
21. Storms Within
22. Precision, Power, and Purification
23. Of Euphoria and Gifts
24. Blood, Ash, and Roses