The Chronicles of Blood and Fire (HP Fanfic)

"I'll choose," Caelum had said.

And then he chose fire.

The corridor erupted in heat as the flames burst from his hands—not a stream, not a flicker, but a wide, surging arc of molten breath that roared toward the masked agent like a beast unshackled.

The air warped. The stones glowed red. For a moment, it was as if the entire world bent to Caelum's rage.

The agent didn't flinch. A wordless Protego Maxima bloomed in front of him, a dome of shimmering magic that shuddered against the inferno. For a second, the flames licked across its surface like molten oil.

Then the shield cracked.

Hairline fissures rippled along its edge, the magical surface beginning to distort under the sheer pressure of Caelum's fire.

From behind the mask, the agent spoke—not in fear, but fascination.

"Extraordinary. Your fire… it doesn't obey wand law."

He lifted his hand, reinforcing the shield with another incantation. The fire dimmed—just enough.

"But not enough."

The shield pulsed, and the flames broke apart, scattered by a windless force. Caelum staggered, coughing, the heat retreating from his body like a tide pulled back too soon.

The agent countered.

A hex shattered the wall behind him, sending shards of stone across the floor. Caelum rolled aside, narrowly avoiding a binding curse that sizzled into the corridor's cracked tiles. He darted left, then right, weaving through the space with vampiric speed, but his stamina was wearing thin.

The agent never rushed. Never panicked. Every movement was controlled—measured.

Another slash of magic caught Caelum across the side. He grunted and stumbled, slamming into the wall, shoulder scorched, knees hitting stone. His breath came in shallow bursts. His fire sputtered in his veins.

The masked figure approached slowly.

"You were never going to win this."

Caelum's back hit the cold wall. He could barely move. Blood ran from his temple. His arm trembled.

"You could've spared your friends. Now they'll watch you fall."

The agent raised his hand again—one final spell.

But Caelum laughed.

A broken sound at first, but real. His first laugh since waking in this world, in the Forbidden Forest, hunted and bleeding and alone.

And now—on the edge of death—it echoed.

The agent tilted his head. "Is that madness or defiance?"

Caelum's eyes glinted.

He whispered: "Julian."

From behind the agent, Julian appeared—stumbling, injured, but still standing. He raised a pipe or some salvaged metal like a club and swung toward the agent's back.

The blow landed—but the agent whipped around, tossing Julian with a powerful blast of force magic.

Caelum didn't wait.

He lunged forward, holding the wand they had taken from the enforcer. The same wand he had hidden all this time.

The agent turned back—just in time to see it pointed at his chest.

"Diffindo!"

The severing curse burst from the wand with searing white light. It hit the agent square in the torso.

The mask split with a cracking hiss. The robes tore open.

And the agent fell—dead before he hit the ground.

Silence.

The corridor stilled.

Caelum stood over the body, panting, trembling, the wand still raised.

His hand shook. His knees nearly gave out.

But the fire in him—steady now—held him upright.

Julian crawled forward, dazed. "Is he…?"

"Gone," Caelum said.

He didn't look away from the corpse. Not yet.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

Then Caelum lowered the wand, turned toward the others, and said in a voice low but certain:

"There's no going back now."