crash
Alright, midnight crazy theory time: if a wand is embedded in a ring, would it still work, or am I getting too creative? And another thing… if you cast Expelliarmus on it, would the ring fly off with the whole finger? Technically, the tips of a wand are used to absorb and channel magic, but a ring doesn't have tips, so… would the spells just get stuck spinning in a loop? Or worse, would you end up casting magical punches? Hahaha, the weird things I think about at midnight. Anyway, here's the chapter.
....
Einar burst into Dumbledore's office, taking advantage of the fact that the headmaster had just been dragged out by Cedric's furious father, who was demanding answers after seeing his son nearly die. The Nordic didn't waste any time.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the gazes of the other headmasters pierced through him. Some were full of reproach, others of respect"even friendship.
"Psst…"
Einar frowned. He heard the sound and quickly scanned the room. Then he saw it. On top of a display case, the Sorting Hat stared at him with a grave, unusually serious expression.
"Over there," murmured the hat, slightly shifting one of its tassels toward a corner of the office.
Einar followed the direction with caution. There, on the floor, lay a small potion vial"fallen, but intact. He picked it up carefully, examining it. Only a single drop of golden liquid remained inside. He removed the stopper and sniffed.
His eyes widened in surprise.
He recognized it. One of the first things he had mastered upon arriving in this world was alchemy. Among all the potions he studied, one in particular had caught his attention… One so rare it was said to contain a trace of divinity: Felix Felicis.
"Looks like you found it," said a firm voice from the doorway.
Einar turned slowly. Dumbledore was watching him, face tense, anger beginning to show through the mask of wisdom.
"You used the luck… so I wouldn't kill Voldemort?" asked Einar, his voice deep, his eyes fixed on the old wizard. "Or did you use it so he could come back tonight, no matter who got in the way?"
The headmaster didn't reply immediately. But Einar saw the subtle shift in his gaze. A blink, a slight twitch in his eyelids. That was enough.
"In order for Voldemort to truly die… he must first have a body," Dumbledore finally answered, his voice sounding more like he was trying to convince himself. "It was going to happen anyway. Even if you killed him today… he would return. And if that happens years from now, I might not be here to stop him."
"Were you the one who put Harry's name in the Goblet?" asked Einar. His tone remained calm, but his eyes now glowed with an unnatural golden hue.
"No… it was Barty Crouch. I saw him," the headmaster replied, but the hesitation in his voice said otherwise.
Einar closed his eyes in frustration, bringing a hand to his forehead. There was still a chance to fix this. All Dumbledore needed was a good beating…
But then he felt something.
"What did you do…?" he asked suddenly. His voice hardened as he sensed something within Dumbledore"something that shouldn't be there. The shock was such that even the old man's mask cracked. For the first time, he looked confused. Vulnerable.
"…Looks like you noticed," Dumbledore murmured, his face heavy with regret. A staff appeared in his hand. One that shouldn't exist in this world.
Einar went pale. He immediately searched through his expanding pouch. It can't be...
It wasn't there.
It can't be…
Sheogorath had given it to him. The WABBAJACK itself. A forbidden, chaotic, cursed artifact.
And now it was in Dumbledore's hands.
That could only mean one thing.
Sheogorath knew where he was.
Or worse… Dumbledore had become his champion.
"You absolute fool…" Einar spat with rage as he lunged at him, ready to strangle him with his own hands. His fury wasn't just about the staff… it was about what it represented.
Sheogorath wasn't the most evil of the Daedric Princes… but he was the most unpredictable. A being so chaotic it was impossible to know what he would do. Ninety-nine percent of the time you wouldn't understand what he was thinking, and the remaining one percent you'd be wrong trying to guess. He might laugh at a joke… or turn you into a chicken and toss you into a slaughterhouse. Maybe he'd change your gender and leave you in a brothel under an aphrodisiac spell, only to show up at the end and say it was all a "little prank."
And that would be one of his good days.
Just as Einar was about to touch Dumbledore, the Wabbajack glowed with a distorted light. They both vanished.
They reappeared outside the castle. Right in the place where, weeks before, Einar had humiliated Dumbledore in battle.
"You should let that go… you don't know what you're holding. It changes you. Poisons your mind. Sheogorath is""
"I know what he is," Dumbledore interrupted, voice dark.
"And you still took it…?" Einar's anger mixed with disbelief.
"It's your fault!" Dumbledore shouted, his voice finally overflowing. "You changed everything. Everything! Everything I worked for. Yes, there would have been casualties… but what war doesn't have them? Voldemort's reign of terror would have finally ended! His followers"the ones who once escaped"would have been caught. The hidden evil would have crawled out of the shadows… and then, the wizarding world would have been purged! But you… you ruined everything."
Dumbledore took a step forward, unhinged.
"You appeared out of nowhere, and everything fell apart. You left me no choice. Die a hero… or live long enough to become the villain! What do you think they'll remember me for? My greatest achievement? Defeating Gellert… and what else? That I was his friend. That I stood by his side when it all began. That's what lasts. You ruined it. You're not from this world. You changed the script."
"…"
"I just wanted to be remembered! Not for gold, or power… just a name. A legacy! For the history books to give me a chapter. For the Chosen One's children to carry my name. Is that so bad?"
While the old man poured his heart out, Einar noticed a faint flicker of light on the Wabbajack. The staff was acting up. Distorting. Controlling.
But since when had he had it...? Weeks? Months?
If that was the case... then Dumbledore had been corrupted for a long time.
"Idiot..." Einar muttered, his face hardened. "You've doomed this world."
A brutal darkness erupted from his body. His armor, black as night and seemingly devouring the light around it, slowly materialized and cloaked him. His gaze carried the weight of impending judgment.
"Daedric princes don't come to save. They come to destroy. To take whomever they want. To turn this world into their playground.
And you… you just opened the door for them."
"Harry can fix it. He is the Chosen One meant to protect this world. After all, as you once said... you saved yours. You were the Chosen One there," Dumbledore replied with his usual calculated calm.
"That's not how a stupid prophecy works," Einar growled, his voice rough and brimming with restrained fury.
"I succeeded because I became strong"losing much along the way. I succeeded because I shattered my bones again and again to improve. I succeeded because I wanted to."
A dark sword appeared in his hand, coated with a viscous, living texture"almost like it had tendrils. In his other hand, the spellbreaker shield shimmered with its usual arcane glow.
For the first time, Einar was fully prepared to fight a true wizard. He knew the staff Dumbledore wielded"the Wabbajack"was as unpredictable as its master, functioning at the whim of luck… and if he was right, the Felix Felicis potion was still running through the old man's veins.
They stared at each other like predators on the edge of an inevitable clash. That's when the other professors came running in, confused by the palpable tension in the air.
"Professor Einar, please, not again!" McGonagall pleaded, deeply worried.
"This time I have a special reason, Minerva," Einar said, never taking his eyes off Dumbledore, pointing directly at the staff.
"That thing he's holding will bring about the end of humanity in this world. And if it doesn't... it'll attract the attention of someone who will."
"What are you talking about? Dumbledore, what is that?" McGonagall asked, trying to understand what was slipping past her.
"Don't worry, Minerva. Once I finish using this staff, I'll return it to its rightful owner. I just need to disarm Mister Einar," Dumbledore replied, with that gentle voice he used to mask secrets.
But that answer reassured no one. The professors' eyes filled with doubt. Something was different this time. Yes, Einar was armed"but he hadn't attacked immediately like before. He was calculating every move, as if the threat was greater than it seemed. And most disturbing of all... Dumbledore hadn't denied a single thing.
The old man still believed he was in the right.
Before anyone could react, the staff in his hands glowed with chaotic energy. Even Dumbledore seemed surprised"he hadn't consciously cast anything.
A magical shockwave crashed into the ground, shaking everything. From the earth, a massive hand of stone emerged. Then another.
As if some creature were rising from its grave, a gigantic golem roared and ascended from the castle's depths.
"Tsk..." Einar clicked his tongue, gathering magic in his hands.
Dragon Priest Summoning.
A portal opened behind him, producing a sharp yet deep sound. From it emerged a skeletal figure, wrapped in floating robes, its eyes burning with magical fire.
Dukaan, the Dragon Priest, had arrived. His mere presence made the air heavy, and more than one professor stepped back with pounding hearts. Though he had no flesh, the contempt in his gaze was palpable.
"Take care of that… don't destroy the school," Einar ordered.
The priest bowed solemnly, one hand over his chest, and without a word unleashed an ice storm straight at the golem, freezing its arm while nimbly dodging its colossal blows.
Einar had another target.
He turned to Dumbledore and roared with power:
"FUS RO DAH!"
The shout shook everything. Dumbledore was hurled like a ragdoll into the Forbidden Forest, crashing through trees and leaves.
Einar had no illusions: this battle would endanger the entire school.
And he was right.
No sooner had Dumbledore hit the forest floor than he raised the staff, and the sky responded with unspeakable fury. In an instant, a lightning storm covered the heavens. It wasn't gradual"just a flash, and then the sky roared. Bolts of lightning fell like rain, chasing Einar.
He zigzagged through them, dodging strikes that split trees and left craters in the ground. Then, he raised his sword"Miraak's Sword.
From it emerged a dark whip, like a living tongue of shadow, lashing toward Dumbledore.
But the old man was ready. A shield appeared... completely violet.
And with bows? A shield with bows blocked the whip.
Einar pressed a hand to his temple, annoyed.
"A shield with bows...?" he muttered in frustration.
"Perfect... I'm fighting the damn Wabbajack's wielder..."
And deep within the planes of Oblivion, Einar was sure... Sheogorath was rolling on the floor, holding his stomach, laughing himself senseless with the chaos he had unleashed.
...…..
Author's Note:
Think the Voldemort fight was disappointing? That's only because you haven't seen a real battle yet.
Dumbledore vs. Einar"this time, with no restraints. What do you think?
And to make things even more chaotic, let's throw in Uncle Sheo's unpredictable staff.
Whew, writing this battle is going to be an epic challenge.