RNP Chapter 9 The Battle of Gringotts
Chapter 9 The Battle of Gringotts
McGonagall's wand was already pointed at the priest, and a stone wall rose from the ground, blocking the Grangers' path. Her voice was extremely short: "Crouch down. Don't move away from the stone wall."
Viserys crouched down, but his eyes never left the priest's fiery spear.
The Shadow Bind split from beneath the priest's feet, one lunging towards McGonagall, the other bypassing the stone wall and approaching Hermione. He saw McGonagall's air chains futilely pass through the dark mass; she pursed her lips, flicked her wand again, and a second stone wall rose with a roar, slamming the Shadow Bind that was lunging at Hermione back.
Caught between flames and shadows, Mag's stone wall rose more and more slowly. She was being slowly worn down to death.
He took the dragon egg from his robes and turned to Hermione. "Hold it, don't let go."
Hermione took it, hugged it tightly, and seemed about to say something, but looking into his determined eyes, she simply nodded.
Viserys drew his hawthorn wand with his left hand and gripped his Valyrian steel dagger tightly with his right.
"Mr. Targaryen! You have no combat training whatsoever—"
McGonagall's voice came from the side, sharp and urgent.
He rushed out.
McGonagall's wand instinctively tried to pull him back, and air chains materialized at his feet—but she saw the priest's fire spear turn towards him. If she used the chains to hold him, he would be pinned to the spot by the fire spear. She was forced to release the chains and instead deform a stone wall to shield him from the binding shadow on his side.
He rushed through the gap in the wall of fire. Flames licked his left shoulder, burning through his robes and searing his skin. He didn't stop, rolling behind another section of stone wall, about ten meters away from the bunker where Hermione was.
The priest's gaze immediately turned to him.
Fire spears coalesced, aimed at Viserys, one after another.
He dodged the first spear, the fiery lance embedding itself in the ground and shattering the marble. The second grazed his right arm; he deflected it with the flat of his dagger, the flames dissipating. The priest didn't even glance at the dragon egg in Hermione's arms.
really.
The hawthorn wand was pointed at the priest. The first incantation escaped his lips, and the tip of the wand became scorching hot. He suddenly sensed that the flames in the air were no longer just ordinary fire; they carried the priest's will and obsession.
The second incantation followed. It was as if he had opened a breach in a flood.
As the third incantation was uttered, the fire spear the priest had shot at him twisted in mid-air and was forcibly drawn back to him. A searing pain shot through his right arm, his skin glowed a dark red from the inside, and something scalding hot seemed to be surging through his veins, almost tearing his skin apart.
He didn't stop.
He forcefully pushed out the absorbed flames, which, mixed with the orange-red color of his own bloodline fire, crashed into the priest.
The priest was struck by his own flames for the first time and took a step back. The edge of his cloak caught fire.
Her expression, which had been silent all along, finally changed.
McGonagall's eyebrows twitched. She didn't speak, but the Polymorph spell immediately changed its strategy—no longer trying to pull Viserys back, but instead using stone spikes to block the priest's retreat, forcing the priest into Viserys's close range.
Viserys didn't stop chanting. While absorbing the counterattack, he charged forward with his dagger in hand.
He rushed three steps in front of her. The priest's shadow split at his feet, and the binding shadow peeled off the ground, lunging at him.
He held the dagger horizontally. The blade struck Fuying's chest.
The bound shadow twisted under the blade, shrieked silently, and then dissipated.
He continued charging forward. The priest retreated, simultaneously conjuring a second fire spear. The instant the spear was fired, he didn't dodge—he used his right forearm to shield himself. The flames struck his forearm, most absorbed by his bloodline, the remainder exploding on his skin, leaving burn marks.
He rushed to the priest. The dagger was thrust out.
The priestess turned to the side, the dagger slicing across her ribs. The cloak ripped open, revealing a shallow cut in her skin. No blood flowed from the wound's edges; instead, a deathly gray hue appeared.
She covered her wound and stepped back, a flash of crimson light appearing in her pupils.
Viserys gripped his dagger, preparing for a second thrust.
The shadow beneath the priest's feet split into two again, one lunging at him and the other at Mag.
He was struck in the back by the Shadow Bound. Mag's stone wall deformed into dense sand before he hit it, and as he slammed into it, the sand absorbed most of the impact.
Another binding shadow wrapped around McGonagall's right foot. Her transformation spell was interrupted. Cracks began to appear in the stone wall protecting the Grangers.
From behind the stone wall came Mrs. Granger's very short gasp, which she immediately suppressed. Mr. Granger pressed his wife down even further, his own back pressed against the stone wall, the cracks spreading inch by inch above his head.
"What you just did," McGonagall's voice came through clenched teeth, her polymorph maintaining the sand wall, "was extremely reckless."
Viserys got up from the sand. "She's injured."
"You're injured too."
He didn't argue. McGonagall looked at the burn mark on his right arm and didn't continue her lecture. Her wand pointed back at the priest.
-
Lagno stood behind the counter.
The silver-haired boy was sent flying, his right arm still smoking. McGonagall was bound by Shadow Bind, her Polymorph spell interrupted. The priestess, though clutching her wound, saw the flames begin to coalesce again. The girl holding the dragon egg crouched behind the stone wall, which was cracking.
If this drags on any longer, the vault will be damaged and the customer will die.
He made a decision.
Fairy magic activated. The floor of the hall cracked open, and the tunnel entrance for the railcar rose from underground. Lagno's spell divided the battlefield once more—Viserys, Hermione's family, and McGonagall were pushed into the tunnel entrance by the rising ramp, while the priest was isolated on the other side of the hall, facing a sealed stone door.
The tunnel entrance is closed.
In the darkness, a jingle rang.
A tremor came from deep within the tunnel. The Iron-bellied Dragon awoke from its captivity. Its scales were pale, and its eyes were nearly blind. It recognized the tinkling sound—a harbinger of pain. It was afraid, therefore it obeyed.
A dragon burst forth from the depths of the tunnel. Dragonfire filled every inch of the tunnel, pale, blazing, carrying the chill of the earth and the dragon's own fury.
The moment the dragon burst out of the tunnel, Mag transformed into multiple layers of barriers, enveloping everyone. The lingering heat of the dragon's flames still made their skin burn through the barriers.
The priest turned around and saw the dragon's gaping maw.
Her wall of fire was pushed back by the dragonfire. The two flames collided in the tunnel, golden-red and pale white. Her body carbonized and disintegrated in the dragonfire, her cloak turning to ash. The Shadow was engulfed by the dragonfire, dissipating like mist exposed to sunlight.
The dragon emerged from the ashes, only to be driven back into the depths of the tunnel by the second command of the jingle.
A tiny spark ignited in the ashes.
The priestess was resurrected. Her face was ashen, the lines around her eyes were deeper, and the crimson in her pupils had dimmed by almost half. She knelt on one knee among the rubble of the tunnel, breathing heavily.
"You're too slow."
A second person emerged from the shadows of the tunnel.
A semi-transparent humanoid silhouette, with blurred features but a clear voice, like two bones scraping against each other. In his hand he held a deep red stone, about the size of a fist, which glowed on its own.
McGonagall's expression changed. She had experienced the First Wizarding War and knew what it was. Tom Riddle stood before her student.
"The dragons have been transferred," Voldemort said. "The goblins left to guard the area are no better than this."
He pressed the magic stone into the priestess's palm. The moment the stone touched her skin, golden-red light spread from her palm throughout her body. Her ashen face was rekindled, and the crimson in her pupils regained its brightness.
The priest didn't look at him. "He's faster than expected. Flame absorption, Valyrian steel countering Shadow Bind, close-range thrust. He's grown so quickly in such a short time."
"Not fast enough." Voldemort pressed the Philosopher's Stone into her palm. "If he really was the prince of prophecy, that knife should have pierced your heart, not your ribs."
Voldemort turned to the other end of the tunnel. His gaze passed over the rubble and landed on Viserys.
"Targlian. Your ancestor was written about in Slytherin's notebooks. Damon Targaryen, who wielded fire without a wand and rode dragons never before seen in this world. Slytherin said he was the ultimate embodiment of pure-blood supremacy."
He took a step forward.
"I'm curious to see what his descendants can achieve in my world."