HP: The Big Bad Wolf

[Part 2:]

Gaydore slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh brightness of the hospital room. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and his body felt heavy, as if he had fought a troll. He tried to move, but a wave of pain shot through him, causing him to wince and groan.

"Where am I? How did I end up here?" He spoke mutely.

Memories began to trickle back into his mind, fragmented and disjointed. A burning bright light. Sudden pain. The sickening crunch of bones breaking. Then darkness.

He tried to sit up, but his limbs felt like lead, refusing to obey his commands. Panic began to rise within him as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. The sterile smell of disinfectant assaulted his senses, mingling with the faint scent of antiseptic.

With a herculean effort, he managed to prop himself up on his elbows, his gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar room. White walls. Bright light shining in through the windows.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" he croaked, his voice hoarse and barely audible.

There was no response, only the steady sound of people going about their tasks in the background. He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he struggled to remember how he had ended up here.

He tried to recall the events leading up to the bright light, but his mind remained stubbornly blank. It was as if a thick fog had descended upon his memories, obscuring everything beyond recognition.

*Sigh*

But he did not panic; he tried remembering mundane things like his own name, his occupation, and the like, and he could remember everything.

"So just a short-term memory loss," he concluded.

Gaydore is not where he is in life just out of sheer luck, but because he is a different breed of a beast. He needed answers. He needed to know what had happened to him, and why he was lying in a hospital bed, battered and bruised.

Summoning every ounce of strength he possessed, Gaydore forced himself to swing his legs over the side of the bed, his muscles protesting with every movement. He winced as he lowered his feet to the cold stone floor, his body screaming in protest.

Slowly, tentatively, he pushed himself upright, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress for support. The room spun around him, and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, threatening to send him crashing back onto the bed.

But he refused to give in to weakness. He had to find out the truth, no matter what it took.

Just at this moment, the door to his room was opened, and two people looked at him in shock, and he looked back like a deer in headlights.

"Albus!" Slughorn exclaimed as he ran over to help his friend.

"Professor Dumbledore, you have to stay in bed!" the woman accompanying Slughorn condemned the old man.

"I am fine, Poppy. I simply feel like I have been hit by a troll, but that is not something major," Dumbledore said amused.

"Fine he says! We thought we would lose you, Albus," Slughorn said worriedly while pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his sweat.

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked.

"I don't know. By all measures, you were winning the fight, but suddenly there was a blinding burning light, and the next thing I saw once I could see was you in a pool of your own blood," Slughorn narrated the last moment of Albus's duel with Lord Prince.

Albus looked at Slughorn for a few moments and started thinking, but his brain felt heavy, and he could not focus. Before he passed into what he hoped would be a dreamless sleep, he asked, "Horace, by the way, where is my wand?"

"Huh?! I don't know. I thought someone had picked it up and brought it to you by now," Slughorn said before going on, "Don't worry! I will look into it and find your wand for you."

"No! I have to find my wand now!" Dumbledore says in panic as he tries to stand up.

"Albus! You need rest!" Poppy says admonishingly.

"Yes, Albus. Rest for now. We will find your wand later," Horace says, trying to appease the panicking man.

Dumbledore rose in a panic from his bed, his mind a fucking mess of confusion and urgency. Ignoring the protests of Horace and Poppy, he tries to make a beeline for the door, his heart pounding in his chest.

Losing the Elder Wand is one fucking big problem, one no one besides him knows the true extent of how big of a fucking problem it really is.

The Elder Wand is cursed like all the Hallows, but its curse is particularly peculiar.

The true working mechanism of the Elder Wand is parasitic in nature: upon changing ownership, it absorbs a part of its last user's life force and magic, integrating it permanently with itself for the new user.

Due to its somewhat sentient nature, the Elder Wand always seeks opportunities to manipulate its users, and fuck them over. This trait is also why, over the years, the Elder Wand has only grown in power and not weakened.

The price for owning the Wand is the risk of losing more than you gain should you ever lose it.

"Albus, you mustn't!" Slughorn exclaimed, reaching out to grab Dumbledore's arm.

But Dumbledore was beyond reason in his current state. With a surge of desperation, he summoned the last reserves of his strength and pushed Slughorn away, making the man fly and kiss a wall, his panic overriding his limitations.

"Let me go!" he cried angrily, his voice filled with a sense of urgency.

The hospital staff, noting the commotion inside the room, rushed forward to assess the situation and restrain the elderly man who seemed to be acting erratically.

But Dumbledore is not Dumbledore without a reason, he lookad at all the people seemingly ganging up on him with an angry and cruel smile. With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a burst of wandless magic, sending the attendants stumbling backward.

"I need to leave, NOW!" he exclaimed, his tone urgent, but laced with his aura.

The hospital staff exchanged worried glances as Dumbledore made his way out of the room, his steps unsteady, seemingly keeling over at any moment, but the mans resolute anture showed itself.

Any bystander could see the panic in his eyes, the fear that gripped his soul as if the World is about to end.

"He's in shock," Pomfrey muttered, her voice tinged with concern. "We need to immobilize him before he hurts himself."

But Dumbledore had already disappeared down the corridor, as he left the Hospital, his figure fading into the darkness.

Outside, the night air was cool and crisp, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the grounds of St. Mungo's. Dumbledore paused for a moment, his breath coming in ragged gasps, before summoning his loyal companion.

"Fawkes!" he called, his voice echoing through the silent night.

And in a burst of flame and feathers, the majestic phoenix appeared before him, his eyes burning with an otherworldly light, enlightning the night.

"Take me to Hogwarts, my friend," Dumbledore said, his voice filled with emotion.

With a graceful sweep of his wings, Fawkes enveloped Dumbledore in a shimmering cloak of fire, lifting him into the air before they disappeared, apparating away.

Some time later, Albus found himself bent over his pensieve, scouring through his memories in search of the person who had betrayed him.

After repeatedly reviewing the same memory sixteen times, he noticed something peculiar: Severus, unlike anyone else at the scene, was grinning a savage smile just moments before the blinding light erupted. His hand moved towards his pocket, a subtle gesture that caught Dumbledore's attention.

It felt as though Severus was waiting for the perfect moment to strike, like a predator stalking its prey.

Upon exiting the memory within the pensieve, Dumbledore's frustration boiled over, unleashing a wave of magic that destroyed half of his office.

"I am too close to achieving all I ever dreamt of, but this damn family is out to ruin everything!" he cursed angrily, grinding his teeth in frustration.

Glaring at the portraits hanging in his office, he bellowed out an order, "Summon Severus Prince to my office immediately!"

"Albus, it's the middle of the night!" protested one of the portraits, but Dumbledore's stern gaze silenced any further objections.

"I don't have time for arguments," Dumbledore retorted firmly.

"I shall relay your orders, Headmaster," replied the portrait of Lord Black before disappearing to fetch Severus.

Moments later, Severus arrived in Dumbledore's office, only to be assailed by a mental attack attempting to breach his mind shields.

"So, the old man has abandoned all pretense of civility?" Severus thought, defending against the assault.

"Good evening, Headmaster," Severus greeted calmly, having successfully repelled the attack.

"It seems you've been hiding your prowess, Severus," Dumbledore remarked angrily, realizing his inability to breach the boy's mind.

Severus had employed a mind shield inspired by a concept from one of his favorite manga series: a defensive barrier akin to Green Baby's Stand. It made it nearly impossible for Dumbledore to penetrate Severus's mind, despite being inside it.

"My mind is out of this world, so to speak," Severus remarked, his voice echoing mysteriously tinged with sarcasm.

"Why should I not engage in a battle of the mind?" Dumbledore asked curious, amused by the challenge.

"Because this won't end however you expect it to, old man!" Severus replied tauntingly, before unleashing a barrage of nightmarish creatures and phenomena born from his vast knowledge of media and games.

Xenomorphs, Dividers, a dozen or so Nemesis's, and a literal horde of other creatures that Severus knows from all the media and games he has devoured during his first life. To top it off, he even released radiation to inflict damage over time. Dumbledore fought valiantly, but eventually, he succumbed to the combined might of the Justice League's Dr. Fate and Marvel's Yao.

Dumbledore couldn't understand how Severus was able to conjure up such degenerated creations within his mind. Either the boy was exceptionally evil, creative, or he was simply as mad as a hatter.

*SIGH*

Despite Dumbledore's efforts, he was ultimately overwhelmed by the fantastical onslaught within Severus's mind. As he struggled to comprehend the sheer creativity and madness of Severus's mental landscape, he came to realize that the boy was truly a force to be reckoned with, at least mentally.

His mind was ripped into pieces repeatedly by the unholy creations within Severus's mindscape, over and over again before Dumble finally decided to retreat.

The mind is truly a miraculous place; you don't have to understand how something is made or built to recreate it in your mind. All you have to do is know what it is and what it is supposed to do.

"Told ya, old man! Stay the fuck out of my mind," Severus's voice resounded, delivering one last message.

Even though the two had been locked in their mental battle for days, barely a minute had passed in the real world.

"Boy, return what you have stolen, or you'll see a side of me you'd wish you never found out I possess," Dumbledore threatened, now certain that Severus was hiding something.

"I am sorry, Headmaster, but I have not stolen anything! All I know is that I have been invited to your office, and the first thing you do is throw a mental attack at me," Severus replied, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"If it wasn't you, are you willing to swear an Oath?" Dumbledore asked, his tone carrying an unspoken threat.

"I don't mind swearing an Oath, but I won't do so just to appease you. If I have to swear, I want something in return!" Severus replied, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Oh, and what is it you want in exchange for the Oath?" Albus fucking Gaydore asks.

"I want a phoenix of my own! Either you give me Fawkes, or an offspring of his, or whatever, but I want a fire chicken of my own, and I want that as an Oath." Severus throws out his own demand.

"Sure! I swear that should Severus Ulysses Prince not be the one who has stolen from me, I will help him acquire a Phoenix's loyalty. So mote it be," Albus swore his oath after some moments of contemplation.

If the boy is indeed a thief, as he assumes, Albus won't have to do anything and will get his wand back. However, if Severus is not the culprit, then this oath will help to somewhat mend the rift between them.

The boy's mind shield and his cunning are direct indications of his potential, and as the headmaster of a magical school, Albus knows that his strongest assets are the connections he is forging with all the talents that will one day lead this country.

"I swear that I have stolen nothing from the individual known as Albus Wolfric Dumbledore. So mote it be," Severus swore his oath, and it was the truth.

Severus did not steal the old man's Wand; he defeated the old man and claimed his wand as his own. Had Dumbledore come clean and asked Severus to swear that he does not possess the Elder Wand, or changed the wording to "taken" instead of "stolen," then Severus might have been in trouble.

However, from Severus's point of view, he rightfully claimed ownership of the wand through victory in battle, and he did not perceive his actions as stealing. This perspective was partly why he decided to confront Albus and assert his authority.

"..."

"Headmaster, I await my Phoenix by the end of the school year," Severus said with a smile before continuing, "If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave."

"Very well, young Severus," Albus replied absentmindedly. If it wasn't Severus's doing, then who else could be the thief?

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