The Death of a Diary
Lyra Lovegood loathed Lucius Malfoy and his putrid spawn Draco more-weasel-than-dragon. She saw in the weaving how a cursed (?) object was going to fall into the satchel of one Ginny Weasley, and the absolute chaos it would lead it to. So she tugged on a thread.
What was the cost this time? Well, it seems having a dark, possibly cursed, journal in her possession was cost enough.
She hated the feel of it. Writhing and serpentine, as if trying to pry into her, it had this heavy air of dark temptation. As if once you dived in, you’d finally escape all your troubles. A nasty piece of work. There was something more to it though, she could feel a soul in it. But it was fragmented, very... partial? As if someone didn’t want to do a complete soul-object transference, but rather dismembered a part of themselves and flung it with force into the damn book.
She’d read something of these in the Lovegood Hollows, a couple of libraries spread out across the liminal in which the Lovegood’s lived. They were called Horcruxes and were actually pretty common in the years after Merlins death. Many thought: well, hey if a wizard as great as merlin can get offed in one, we’ve got to have some kind of back up plan. And so they sought to put a portion of their soul in inanimate objects in case they did get offed.
And yes it usually involved a human sacrifice, but then again so do many of the soul-workings.
She went to find Luna and Fleur. Neither of the two would be affected much by the book, mainly because Luna was Luna, and Fleur was part-veela. The Veela themselves had many a temptation magic inherent to their being, so other coercions, even imperios often fell flat with Veela, so long as their will and sense of self was strong. And while Fleur was only part-Veela, it was a significant Veela bloodline meaning Fleur could occasionally fling fireballs and shift if she got really furious.
She found Luna skipping toward herbology, she was wearing a flower crown today. Lyra smiled at that, and decided to fashion a matching one out of a sprig of willow she found peeking through from the courtyard gardens.
Luna turned and beamed with happiness, she began skipping towards Lyra and fell into her arms. “Lyra you have quite a lot of Horned Fleacaps holding onto your satchel today”. Horned fleacaps indeed. There were actually quite a lot of them. Not that anyone but a Lovegood could really see them. Nasty little buggers that like all other things nasty and foul.
“Yes Luna, it seems there are, and I’d rather be rid of them sooner than later.” Lyra knew Luna would know what was in the bag, even if she never said it outright.
“I see. Fleur will be here soon, she’s is a bit under the weather though”, Luna said dreamily.
And indeed Fleur was with them, coughing and sniffling with her arms crossed over hugging herself. “I was wondering when I would run into you two lovegoods next. You always seem to pop up whenever I need you”.
Lyra smirked “This time we need you. Put a hold on your sniffling Fleur we’ve got some serious business to do”. Fleur just shot Lyra a glare but more or less went along with it anyway.
Together they went to the lost corridor of the 7th floor. Lost because no one had seen it since 1738. Two seers and a veela found it. It had stunk of a herbology working gone wrong. They’d fixed it up way back when they first found it. It now was in a much better state.
The corridor was a warded to the brim. and so very split off from hogwarts that it was akin to a horcrux in an of itself.
It had a very distinct magical taste compared to hogwarts, and it seemed to prefer being on its own. Though after a while it started to warm up and it very much had a liking towards Luna, an almost scientific interest in the Veela and a hesitant tolerance for Lyra herself.
Lyra couldn’t give a hippogriff if it liked her or not. It was her space now. Rights of the finder. Finder’s Keepers. Ha.
Anyway, Lyra, Luna and Fleur both sat in a triangle in the middle of the cobblestone corridor. Their view outside the arched windows was actually a legitimate view of the grounds, and they could even see parts of the forbidden forest, but they also knew that if someone were to look up from down there they wouldn’t see any of them even if Luna wore neon. They couldn’t send spells outside of there, any spells that were shot out just seemed to fizzle. Which made it a perfect testing ground to see if 7th Corridor, good old seven, could destroy the damned horcrux if they just flung it out the bloody window.
So lyra did just that. and it did nothing but fling back in lyras face. Fleur tried blasting it with a fire ball, but the book just hissed, rattled a bit, and stilled. Seemingly content with just emanating its heady temptation magic.
Luna just sat patiently humming. Then her eyes took on a strange haze with the colour in her eyes fading to a white and Lyra knew she was seeing something, she tuned into it and hers took on a similar pale whiteness. They both saw the book for what it truly was. Though they knew the vague pattern and problems it could cause, they didn’t know the details, but now they knew.
They saw flashes in their minds eye. Fleur, if asked in the future, would swear she saw the images playing like swirling grey mists in their eyes.
A journal. A death. A flash of green light. A hiss. A terrifying cold gaze. A soul wrenching itself apart. Words rearranging themselves in the air above them spelling out the sickening words. Voldemort. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. Neville Longbottom. The Boy Who Lived. Cedric Diggory. The Boy Who Lived. So many timelines. So many realities. So much life and death, chaos and creation. Basilisk Poison. Fiendfyre. Sword of Gryffindor. Death. Death. Pain so much pain. Tom Riddle. The Boy Who Lived.
Lyra and Luna gasped and let go of each other’s hands. “Fiendfyre”, Luna whispered, shakily. “Well at least that is something I can do”, Lyra sighed. But she was not happy about it. Luna wasn’t surprised Lyra could conjure fiendfyre. Luna believed in Lyra, and knew she was a powerful witch. But this had sparked Fleurs curiosity.
Fiendfyre was a wild terror. A beast of it’s own will. It required formiddable magical and physical control. A stray jerk of the hand, and the flames would shoot off and form a fiery creature you no longer controlled. The flames it created were destructive, monsterous and hungry. They did not want to be leashed by a witch. They wanted the world to flames. Fiendfyre could burn a city to the ground perhaps more if it were allowed to.
And at the mention of fiendfyre something in Fleurs face gleamed wicked. Lyra had a feeling she knew what Fleur was thinking, but decided to leave it till later. Delacour Veela politics were an intricate and complex tapestry she’d rather not involve herself in if she could help it, but it seemed Fleur had an ambition for the seat. She knew she’d be hearing about this later.
Sighing, Lyra told Luna and Fleur to stand behind her. She carefully threw the book several paces in front of her, and asked those behind her if they were sure they didn’t want to leave until this was over.
Lyra began the incantation, using a much longer variant than most fools knew of. Most people used the shorthand est infernum, obviously it wasn’t as simple as that -- you needed intent, and will, and to know what you were drawing from, you needed to sheer magical energy in the first place. But Lyra had designed an arguably safer way to use fiendfyre. She’d crafted it years ago for her initiation demonstration in front of the elders. They’d been rightfully impressed, but still told her not to use it within the liminal, as it was definitely eating some of the energy that was holding the place together. She’d immediately banished it, but she’d shown remarkable control, and spellcrafting skills, which got her a high enough degree within the lovegoods to have a bit more freedom than most other lovegoods did.
She began. Drawing in a long breath and allowing the cold air she’d inhaled to become hot in her mouth. She focused her mind on drawing up from the depths of a dark fiery place. She allowed herself to feel vengeance for those who harmed harry, for the years of bullying Luna and Hermione had to endure, for the abuse Fleur faced constantly day in and day out. By then her feet were buzzing with energy, and her hair was standing on end, threateningly as if about to strike.
Her arms were heavy and shaking. She hadn’t even begun the incantation yet, she was just raising the energy.
Finally when it felt like the magic would burst forth from her if she didn’t hold it, she began the incantation, slowly and with deliberation.
flammas inferni effunde. Qui emundat peccatum. Quod signum relinquit. Esurit et non cessat. Vera est flamma tua, et contemptibilis es. nunc autem mei estis, donec dimittam vos. Dimissio tua est redire. Domum tuam revertere cum omnia dicta factaque sunt.
From her wand came a continuous stream of immense fire, the heat itself was unbearable. It kept coming out and was wrangling for control even with the extended incantation. But Lyra clamped down on it with her will. It became a bit more compliant and sped for the book. The book was actually trying to resist, and it was doing a decent job of it to be honest. But fiendfyre was something else. The journal was soon burnt to a crisp. She was currently rapidly wearing out of her energy, and she was ready to collapse but she had to banish the flames. She managed it, and as she did she imagined all sorts of revenge schemes and plots to ruin Lucius’s day. At the top of the list was giving Draco and identical booklet, full of similar temptation magic.
Frankly, Fleur didn’t care whether Lyra was tired or not, she wanted to know how to do that immediately.