PtV... Path to Victory, induced by magic was... An odd feeling to say the least. My worldview shifted, gone from seeing it all as an average human usually would, to what was borderline an optical illusion, colours swirling before my eyes as they fixed themselves a tint to my world. People shifted in hues and shapes, scattering all around my visual sight, breaking and rebuilding into pieces as something in the distance slowly but surely grew into an unknown, indescribable shape. The very fact my mind used the term 'human' right now as if it was an unknown entity, was telling all on its own.
The castle seemed to swirl around in a hurricane of differing textures, and colours, looking like that singular moment one faces when apparating around. The small disconnect from reality as everything that made up one's self broke down into millions of pieces, curved and bent in on itself before coming back into existence, a momentary lapse of near cosmic destruction and perfect recreation all happening in the exact same moment, brought about by a need to simply beelsewhere.
Only that small disconnect wasn't happening for a moment far too small to so much as leave an imprint in one's mind, so fast it was that the only sensation one got from it was a minor bout of discomfort.
No.
Right now, that singular moment had turned almost eternal, as my reality kept on doing that very same thing over and over and over again, as pathways and futures were riddled out, simulations using all the available information from me were occurring faster than could ever meet the eye, before the most wanted one was found.
My view shifted once again, fixing itself as if it were a puzzle whose pieces had flown loose, said pieces all twisting down like a hurricane into the middle of my sight as it formed fully once again. And when the puzzle was completed, my body surged to move on its own as my hands swept to my sides on the table before me, my gaze focused up ahead, even as it stared into the confusion that swamped those around me, though I only noticed the sheer nothingness that magic cajoled into my head, wanting to take the lead to heed my request. To heed the future I wanted before the information I had turned unusable. Even now, mere moments into it all beginning, I could see the edges of my view begin to shatter, my information turning outdated by the second, the future turning uncertain with every broken piece before inevitably going out of my reach should it shatter completely.
"Cousins..." My voice, to my personal self, at any rate, reverberated loudly in my head, an echo that was surprisingly comfortable to feel. Relaxation, happiness and almost a sense of euphoria took hold of me for a second before I squashed the feeling down and focused on the words whispered towards me by Fate's amused voice.
"Headmaster..." I called out, turning my head towards the side, towards a rather... Shook Dumbledore, before my gaze swivelled back up ahead, looking further than Evan's wary face. "Do not be alarmed." A calm smile grew on my face. "Tis' but a mere show, I can assure you."
Even as I said those words, I could feel the way the old man tentatively reached for his wand, confusion and wariness filling him as his gaze swivelled around uncertainly.
Fool that he was, he was looking for something that simply did not show itself, even to its most devout of followers.
The concepts that held a universe together... The concepts of magic. Fate. Life. Death. Victory. Defeat. Loss. Time. Success. Happiness. Darkness. Light. And oh so many more- None of them, despite what most would think, chose to affect the world.
But they did answer.
Prophecies did not rise because they were set up on by a being greater than what anyone could fathom, but were actually an answer to a call. To a prayer. To a divination. To effectively anything that sought it.
Life and death, when given the choice were merely handed out, as opposed to given as a right. As a law. A killing curse could take one's soul because another sought it. A child with a Horcrux, killed by the Horcruxes master could choose their destination because death had been given what had been requested by the summoner's call, but that did not mean that Death chose who was taken.
Because Death did not care.
Because Fate did not care.
Because the concepts of magic did not care about what the result was. Only that something happened as a result of their asking because that was all they were built up to do. Because that was all they could bother to do.
Magic above all else was a watcher who sought entertainment, who sought proactivity. Who simply sought. It was not a judge. It was not a jury. And it was certainly not an executioner.
It was simply there.
But Path to Victory was a different beast altogether.
Because it made them care.
It was the truest form of magic. The most absolute of all. Because it broke the very rules that held everything together, to get what it wants.
I had thought that I would need an intended target for my plans, which was I'd sought the older Gryffindor in particular.
I had even thought that the knowledge I'd gained regarding his thoughts of me was what was needed to fuel the temporary future I wanted.
In truth, I had needed neither.
In truth, the intended future I wanted was on the cusp of not coming to light simply because I was taking too long to put it into effect.
With that in mind, I calmly put my hands on the table before me and felt my magic twist and turn as it broke through one of the many Fidelius charms scattered all across the world. All across time itself.
The spell was engrained into my head.
The secret holding it was engrained into my being.
The keeper, a once long-dead relic of the past, who'd taken it to his grave, came to my mind.
Path to Victory had recreated the weakest of the lost magics.
Of the forgotten spells.
For all that I knew how it worked though... The Fidelius holding it was too powerful to break alone.
Its caster had been one powerful motherfucker.
Nothing short of risking a Path to Victory magical 'high' would break through it- Though the consequences of that were rather... Large. Which was putting it mildly.
With a soft, almost whispered, sigh, I calmly tapped my fingers onto the table and activated a spell not seen since the fall of the Roman Empire.
Or more specifically... Since the fall of the Sacred Roman Covent.
Since Merlin himself used it for the first and last time.
"Ars Sacra Prima..."
And with that, I watched as my own mind conjured it in the form of a piano before me and the sounds of a beautiful symphony filled the hall as my hands started playing.
And I explained, calmly, what it all meant should the song complete its sequence. What the forgotten spell was capable of to the minds before me.
Explained exactly where and why the origin of purity came from.
That Purebloods loyal and willing to follow me would have their self-worth rise. Their ambitions and fervour for success fill them. As a light shifted into their eyes of the possible future I could bring about. A sense of pure, unadulterated hope at what could be. Of happiness and contentmentto play the roles, they would normally ignore. Or reject.
What Purebloods against me would feel as the consequences for their allegiance. That would break their bodies and take that which they hold sacred to themselves should their will prove ineffectual. Should their fear take over them. Should their magic prove unrefined. They would lose it all. Their blood tainted. Their magic locked. Their bodies broken.
That hopeful Half-bloods, of any allegiance, would find themselves filled with a need to progress. To advance. To raise themselves in the eyes of society and do whatever it takes to reach their dreams. That those loyal to the caster, would find themselves pushed further than ever, their eyes seeing nought but the glory that would await. The life that would fill them with contentment. And that those against the caster would find themselves truly seeing the sheer gulf for the terror it was. Truly seeing the challenge of their dreams written before them. The impossibility of it, breaking their will down to nought but resignation and despair.
And that the muggle-borns...Would be offered nothing but the sounds of a beautiful symphony. The sounds of freedom given only to them, filled with the truth of the cursed world they had avoided. Nought but the truth that though they don't belong... So long as they sought nothing but the enjoyment that magic could offer, they would not fall to the cursed existence that befell those purer.
I reached the end of the spells sequence and idly paused my finger over the magical key that would've activated it.
Taking in a deep breath, from the rather long rant, I calmly looked all around me as the effects of my Path to Victory faded and with it the key that could've and would've spelt doom or greatness for those around me had I simply pressed down on it.