Fire & Ice: War Games

‘Nothin under the sun is accidental, least of all that of which the intention is so clearly evident.’

Ephraim Gotthold Lessing, Emilia Galottia (IV, 3)


The wind played with the wild grass as fireflies danced in the fathomless darkness. An owl hooted, calling the name of Death’s next client into the somber world as it spread it wings and was carried above the earth by the invisible hands of the winter wind.
Smoke spiraled into the black sky from the chimney of a ruined castle on the Irish countryside. Dark windows masked the activity within its crumbling walls and rats scurried on the rotting wood floor as a torn tapestry in the castle’s great hall fluttered restlessly. Cobwebs decorated the chambers within the desolate castle, dust clinging to their threads.

A warm fire cast glowing light into the chamber as he made his way to the sole piece of furniture residing there. Sighing, his fingers tapped listlessly on the lid of the wooden box he held on his lap. Staring absently at the flames dancing in the hearth, his fingers played with the bronze latch on the box’s side. \"Three down and one waiting to be found. Calling out, taunting me with the promise of immortality.\" Rubbing his face, he growled at the merrily licking flames a few feet away and their shadows reflecting off the twin silver boxes on the mantel.

Hypnotized by the flames, he was oblivious to his fingers opening the small treasure box and the small, transparent marbles staring back up at him. The very same marbles that had once hid the silver box of Hufflepuff from casual sight. His cinnamon eyes darkened as his mood followed. \"Riddles and games!\" He pursed his lips, unaware he had spoken aloud to the empty chamber room. His hands clenched as he growled, his mind pondering plans of world domination.

Feeling restless, he began to pace the length of the chamber and ignored the box crashing to the stone floor. The marbles rolled aimlessly across the floor, stopping only at the immobile sentry of the fireplace grate. Swirls of colors reflected from the center of the marbles and onto the walls of the chamber.

Frowning as he noticed the disarray at the foot of the armchair, he snarled as he stalked across the room and snatched a handful of the marbles from the floor. Grabbing the treasure box, he slammed the seemingly offending objects back into the nest of crushed yellow velvet. As he closed the lid, he noticed the velvet lining had torn away from the wood when it fell. A glitter from within the sagging material caught his eye.

Tearing the material back, he watched as a crude sculpture fell into his hand. Turning the warm crystal over he noticed the familiar features of a lion. Frustrated, he threw the humming stone into the roaring flames and smirked as smoke slowly filled the chamber. The flames jumped as though alive, sparks of embers leapt from the fire’s heart as the flames flickered blue. A pleased smile slowly formed across the features of his face and his cinnamon eyes danced with mirth.

The flames flickered, merging into a single flame before his eyes. The burning blob slowly melted into a familiar feature as he gasped and stumbled backwards. His foot caught on a leg of the armchair and as he backwards, his arms flailing wildly onto the cold stone floor. He lay still, trying to catch his breath before sitting up slowly.

Cursing the flames, he rubbed his head as he looked up at the flames and smirked. A lion’s head looked back at him with hollow eyes and the wizard curled his lips. \"Is that all you’re going to do? Muggles have impressed me far better, more than that. So much for lions being the king of beasts, huh?\" Dusting his robes, he turned to walk away as the lion’s head spoke;


“Beneath the light of Heaven’s eyes,
Below zero where I lie

Land of eternal ice and snow,
You must go.”



In the shadows, he waited and watched as the past slowly came to the present. Centuries of agony were soon to be cured, Purgatory would soon be at an end and all he had to do was bid his time.