The Deceit of Man

Awakening The Darkness

Harry knew he was dreaming the second he opened his eyes. The place he was in was too bright for the room he was just asleep in. It was painfully bright, and the only thing Harry could think about was that the place needed to be darker. It was as if someone had flipped a light switch as the place turned to hues of gray. If Harry had had a mirror nearby; he would have realized that it wasn't the room that was in hues of grey but rather that his eyes were glowing in the shadows, allowing him the ability to see in the dark. The place was still bare, but it was more tolerable now. He walked around, thinking of all the things he could do to a space this large and trying to figure out how he got here in the first place. It wasn't until he heard an unmistakable cackle from behind him that he really grew concerned. He spun around quickly, his fight or flight response kicking in.

"I brought you here, Harry. This is the realm from which all magic stems." The voice, and cackle, had come from the crone standing before him. There could be no mistaking what she was though Harry suspected that there was more to her than what she appeared. For one thing, the air around her seemed to crackle and whip around her. For another, there was a spark in her eyes that hinted at mischief. After knowing the Weasley twins for so long, he was well trained in spotting it. Finally, the woman's own words did her in.

"Who are you really? I don't believe for one second that you are just a crone, no matter how much you wish to play that role." Harry eyed the woman cautiously while reaching for his wand.

"Oh, silly Darkling, you don't need your wand here. This, all of it surrounding us and all that we breathe in, is Magic. You are able to wield it here just as easily as I and I need not a useless focus here. As for who I am, well, I am surprised you haven't put it together yet. I am the goddess Hecate, known by many as Lady Magic." The crone changed then. No longer was she the old, wizened woman but rather a young and proud looking one. She had dark hair (the color was hard to tell in the shadowy atmosphere), and bright eyes (the violet color of them was stark against the typical gray of the room). If Harry had to guess, he would put her age around that of his parents had they lived based on her looks now. Harry wasn't foolish to think that it was an honest assessment of her appearance. If she was who she said she is, her appearance was subject to change, "You are skeptical, Harry? Why is that? Have you not realized yet that you stand in a pitch-black room? That your sight comes from your eyes which have taken on a feline quality to allow you to see in this darkness?"

"Why am I here though? What do you want with me, Lady Magic? I have nothing to offer you."

"The only thing I want from you, young Darkling is for you to hear me out. Listen to my tale and if you still can't figure it out then I will seriously be concerned about your intelligence. Can you do that?"

"I can do that, but shouldn't we get more comfortable first?" Lady Magic laughed lightly but agreed to his request. The duo sat down in chairs that appeared out of seemingly nowhere and got settled before Harry motioned for Lady Magic to start her story.

"At the beginning, when I first granted true magic to the people, I had to ensure that there would be some way of keeping my Chosen in line and so I created the Lords. The Lords, one for the Light Arts and the other for the Dark Arts, were to govern their charges fairly and equally. They were not permitted to sit in judgement of one of their one as that would create an inequality when it came to punishment of crimes. The first challenge of this system came from the man known as Lumonex. Lumonex had been selected and groomed as the successor of the fourteenth Dark Lord but upon the man's death, my magic chose another. An uncommon but acceptable situation. Magic knows best after all. Lumonex wasn't happy that the one he called 'usurper' had taken the power from him. He ignored all calls for him to stand down and attacked the new Dark Lord, a mere boy no older than yourself. The boy had no idea what had been going on or why he suddenly had more power than he did the night before. He was frightened and lashed out, killing Lumonex, and thus the Dark Arts were corrupted. Up to this point, no one had ever thought about using the Dark Arts, used traditionally for rituals and ceremonies of the Old Ways, as a tool to do harm to others. This changed when word spread of Lumonex's death. No longer was it a pure and direct way to commune with the gods but a way to get what one wanted. The Dark Lord cast himself before the mercy of the Light Lord, but the man had no mercy on the boy. The Dark Lord was imprisoned on the island that housed the true criminals. Upon his death, the boy's shear pain and agony mixed with his power and thus the Dementors were born. The boy's death created a void though in the way things were done. The Light gained too much power and the Dark Arts were shunned. It is no surprise that in the last century, there have been two Dark Lords. Neither of them are true Dark Lords of course but the fact that they named themselves as such is what gives them the power. The Dark Arts have been shunned and people have just further corrupted their purpose. Each of these supposed Dark Lords have sought after their own power and their own immortality. True Lords of Magic cannot seek power for the sake of it. Nor can they seek after immortality willingly. To do so is to corrupt the art.