Harry was still confused about how this old boot was supposed to get them to the Quidditch World Cup. He knew he was still relatively new to the magical world, but traveling by old shoe? Mr. Weasley had called it a port key.
"Ok get ready." Mr. Weasley was looking at his watch while everyone was lying on the grass around the boot touching it with a finger. "3. 2. 1." Harry felt like a hook had been thrust into his navel, pulling him back violently. He couldn't see any of the Weasleys, Hermione, or Cedric and his father as he felt like he was violently shaken around and pulled like fish on a fishing line.
The feeling abruptly ended when he fell to the ground, on what felt like a cold stone floor. Mr. Weasley had said they would arrive at a campground, but maybe this was just a reception room for wizards arriving via portkey. He looked up and took in his surroundings. He lay in a circular room of about the size of the dorms back in Hogwarts, with a domed ceiling. The only exit was a black wooden door with strange silver markings on it.
He had the feeling something was wrong. He looked around for the others, almost all of them had confusion written all over their face. Mr. Weasley as well as both of the Diggorys had their wands drawn and looked around with panic in their eyes. Ok, something definitely wasn't right.
After a few minutes of no one speaking, he noticed the absence of any noises that weren't produced by them. There were no cars, no wind, no animals, no people, nothing. This could not mean anything good. He suddenly heard an almost inaudible clicking sound behind him. Immediately jumping to his feet, he drew his wand and turned to face the door.
It opened to reveal a man of about 6 feet, with pale skin and silvery hair that reached his shoulders. His eyes were a vibrant blue with golden spots visible in them. He wore an elegant crystal blue robe, a steaming cup in his hands.
He was currently enjoying his breakfast, made by his conjured servants. A light salad and bread with cheese. He was sitting in the artificial garden he had modeled after the long lost forests of Alendria, the city he had been born in, raised, and subsequently learned the harsh truth of reality at the tender age of 75 when cultists of the accursed dragon god Tiamat had burned it down.
It had been the start of his adventure. The event leading to the fateful meeting with his friends, nearly 1300 years ago. He may have managed to extend his lifespan far over that of a regular elf, his companions had chosen to reject his offer of doing the same. All slowly dying of old age one after the other. All except Kret, the stubborn kobold had given his life in their last adventure, sacrificing himself for a higher cause, obliterating his soul in the process, making revival impossible. Not that it would have been even with his soul intact, after all that was what he had given his very being to prevent. So no revival magic could ever be cast again.
He reminisced about his friends. He had long overcome his grief, it was their wish to die naturally, who was he to deny them that death. And he had long mastered the spells that would allow him to travel between the planes, so in theory, he could even visit their dead souls from time to time.
He almost choked in his tea, when he felt the intruder wards for his 'doormat' go off. He quickly waved his hand, muttering a few arcane words and his view went black. Immediately after he was looking down upon the entrance hall to his home, the old dwarf had always called his 'doormat'. What he saw astounded him.
There on the floor lay nine people. Five of them had the same vibrant orange hair color. The three oldest immediately jumped to their feet and drew small wands. So they arrived here by accident, none of those modern wizards would be able to enter here without his permission. Although even per accident this should be impossible. No matter he should greet his guests and probably get them back to the Material Plane so they could venture to their original destination.
He grabbed his tea and bread and made his way towards the guests. He commanded one of the golems to clean the table, he probably wouldn't have a chance to eat the salad before it would dry up and would not taste well anymore.
He had just finished the bread when he arrived at the black door inscribed with silver runes. He rotated the doorknob pushing the door open. The black-haired boy that had still been laying on the ground jumped up and turned towards him.
"Hello, might I ask where you came from?" None of the people answered. Were they unable to speak English? Not that it mattered, he waved his hand forming the arcane symbols while taking a sip from his tea, casting a quick comprehension spell. Now regardless of the language they should understand him.
"I apologize, now you should understand me. If you do not tell me where you are from, I'm afraid I'll be unable to send you back." The two adults exchanged a look before the red-haired man started to talk. He suspected he was the father of at least all the other redheads present.
"We understood you the first time."
"Great. Now, where do you need to get back to, assuming you are all from the same place."
He took another sip.
"Might I ask where we exactly are right now?"
"You are at the entrance of my home, outside of the Material Plane. Although I'm quite curious how you ended up here, my wards should have repelled any teleportation."
"Well," the men again exchanged a quick glance before lowering their wands "we were supposed to travel to a campground in England via portkey. But I'm afraid we somehow ended up in your home. I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience."
A port key? They shouldn't have been able to get past his wards with that.
"No problem it was an accident. Might I see the port key in question." The man should understand that they wouldn't leave without him having a look at it. After all, they were able to breach his defenses with it.
The red-haired man picked up an old boot, holding it out for him to grab. Since he was still holding his tea and needed his other hand to see what was up with the port key, he conjured a quick mage hand. The man gasped in surprise when a spectral blue hand with silver runes all over it had suddenly grabbed the boot.
"Thank you. This will only take a minute." He started to cast a quick identification spell. The first level spell should be more than enough to clear what had happened. And so it did.
"I recommend you inform the authorities to not use any more transportation magic on that hill. It seems there is a tear to the astral sea there. You are lucky you ended up here. You could have just as easily stumbled into the abyss." He shuddered at the memories of that place. It might have only been one time he visited, but that was one time too many. Although he much preferred it to the planes of pandemonium if he had to choose.
"Excuse me," The brown-haired girl spoke up "you keep mentioning this Material Plane and now this Astral Sea. What do you mean?"
"Hermione-" he silenced the man with a wave of his hand.
"Easy. There is the Material Plane, the plane you came from. Then there are other planes. The four elemental planes, the Abyss, the Nine Hells, Mount Celestia, and many more. All these planes are located in the Astral Sea, as is my home."
"So you're saying we are in space."
"No. Although it is very similar. You are not off your planet. You are out of your dimension."
The girl's jaw fell to the floor.
"Anyway. I will be able to transport you to your original destination." He had already instructed one of the golems to bring him the metal rod attuned to the Material Plane. Although he could have just instantaneously cast the Gate spell, he wanted to keep his powerful magic hidden for now. Casting more than one 9th tier spell without having proper rest was sure to end in death for any normal mage. Although Mystra the Mother of all Magic, had granted him the Boon of High Magic, allowing him to cast the legendary magic twice, this was his ultimate trump card and still a dangerous endeavor that was very taxing on the mind.
"Now while we wait for the materials why don't you tell me your names. But it is rude to ask without introducing oneself, so I shall go first. I am Salarus 'Wandbreaker' Archmage of Old." He gave a warm smile.
They all didn't seem to understand what his titles meant, except for the man with brown hair, who grew pale at his introduction. The man stumbled back dropping his wand.
"A-A-Archmage of Old?"
"Yes. I am proud to say that I was able to achieve the 20th tier."
"Dad, what's wrong?" The boy who was presumably the man's son, judging from his question. "Who are you? Are you some sort of Dark Wizard?" He pointed his wand at him again.
"Ssruks Versvesh" After the draconic words had left his mouth and he had gestured towards the boy, the empowered reduction spell immediately went to work, shrinking the boy to a size that he would have easily fit into his teacup. "I do not mean you any harm. But that doesn't mean I appreciate being threatened. Understood boy."
"CEDRIC." The man yelled, everyone else just staring in shock.
"Do not worry. He will return to his normal size in an hour. Now, what is your name good sir?"
"Nice to meet you and I assume your son is called Cedric?" The man nodded.
He turned to the rest.
"No need to be afraid. As long as you don't threaten me with your wands or insult me like the boy you have nothing to fear."
The man who had done all the talking started again.
"I am Arthur Weasley. These are my kids, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny."
"And the inquisitive lady?"
It took the girl a few seconds to respond.
"I am Hermione Granger." She stuck her hand out, which he took and shook.
"So that leaves only you." He turned to the raven-haired boy.
"You...don't know who I am?"
"No. I don't believe we have met and I don't have a habit of spying on random people."
"Ah, so you are the one who survived that little curse?"
"Yes. The real killing curse is a 9th level spell that kills just about everything instantly. No green light to dodge, no time to react. The mage just points at you, says a single word, and you are dead. No silly effects or anything."
Really how magic had deteriorated that a simple spell dealing damage to the mind had been labeled as an unavoidable killing curse. At this point, the wooden golem returned with the forked metal rod.
"Ah great. Now if you all would gather around I will get you to that campground. Although I'm curious, why were you going there if you don't mind me asking."
"The quidditch World Cup." The boy who lived answered.
"Uh, interesting. I think I shall accompany you."
"But do you have a ticket?"
"Of course I do. How else will I attend? Now Mr. Diggory if your son will show some restraint and remorse you can put him down and I will release the spell."
The boy rapidly grew to his normal height again. With a wave of his hand, his morning robes were replaced by a much more appropriate attire. He was now wearing traditional green elven clothing and a simple Bag of Holding slung over his shoulder, filled with most things he might need when going out. He wondered how much longer it would take them to realize that he had long pointy ears and wasn't human.
He held the dimensional tuning fork in hand while muttering the arcane words required to allow them to shift between planes. When he finished the incantation he slammed the rod onto the floor. For a moment they could see the vast expanse of the Astral Sea around them before their surroundings shimmered and shifted to the picture of a forest with a dozen people running around in a panic.
He assumed they had scheduled and monitored the port keys and panicked when one of them didn't arrive, with people or without.
A rather large man, who was probably once well built ran over to them.
"What happened? Your port key never arrived."
"Well, I don't know exactly. But we ended up intruding on someone else's home."
Salarus was currently putting the tuning fork away letting it slip into his bag when he noticed everyone's eyes were on him.
"As I said, it is alright. The port key went through a rift and ended up in the astral sea. You were very lucky landing on my doorstep."
"Thank you for bringing them here and not taking any drastic actions when they arrived at your doorstep Mr?"
"Salarus 'Wandbreaker'. It is nothing, I was planning to come later anyway, I just had no intention to camp out here."
"Well then. Mr. Diggory has already gone to pitch his tent, you should probably do the same."
"Ah, Yes. Yes, Come kids."
"Salarus is enough, Wandbreaker is just a silly title given to me."
"Ah. Mr. Salarus, would you mind if I'd ask you a few questions?" He looked at the girl.
"I don't see why not. Let me accompany you."
With that, the two started to walk behind the Weasleys and Harry to their designated campsite.
"What was that spell you cast at Cedric?"
"It was merely an empowered and slightly altered version of the Reduce Spell."
"You mean the Reducio charm? But that is unable to shrink living beings."
"No. They are two completely different spells. While yours is a modern charm, mine is a simple transmutation spell of the second level."
"Again no. Like I said I am an Archmage of Old. I practice magic in an entirely different manner than today's Wizards. Whereas you use your wands to manipulate the magical energy inside of yourself, I use the power of the weave by reciting incantations and forming sigils. Today's Wizards are a mixture of Sorcerers and Wizards. Sorcerers used the magic that they inherited from their ancestors, Wizards used to study years and years to learn spells. Today's Wizards are something of a mixture."
"Wait, so your magic is entirely different from ours? Then why isn't it taught anymore?"
"Because of an event about 1150 years ago where almost all of the mages of old were banished to another realm. Only a few people remained with the knowledge of magic, I was one of them since I was in the Abyss at that time. I only learned of their sacrifice after I had returned."
"But what did they sacrifice themselves for, that was worth the extinction of your magic?"
"They banished a beast. The Beast. The walking apocalypse."
"It couldn't have been that bad could it?"
He had faced the Beast once with his comrades shortly after Kret's sacrifice. He had already been a Grandmage of the 16th tier and his comrades all were formidable warriors, they had managed to defeat many threats in their time together. But that beast had been too much. They barely managed to stall it long enough for the town to evacuate, or at least what was left of the town.
"No, Miss Granger. That Beast is unstoppable. The only truly immortal creature in all of reality, in all realities. Not even magic of the 9th tier that can bend the very reality to his whim is able to permanently kill it. It is hunger and destruction incarnate, only awakening to satiate its insatiable hunger. Devouring men, towns, and mountains. Even gods are digested in its stomachs. They sacrificed themselves banishing it to some realm far far out in the astral Sea, and you should be grateful for it. Without that sacrifice, the world would still fear that thing."
The girl was stunned, but he had not exaggerated. If anything he had been lenient, sparing her the true horrors of that thing.
"So. What was its name?"
They were quiet for the rest of the walk. He watched Mr. Weasley trying to pitch a tent until Hermione took over and managed to finish it within a few minutes. Most of which was spent untangling the mess the man had created.
"Well, guess I should prepare my place as well."
He turned to the side and took a miniature door out of his bag, placed a silver spoon in a polished bowl of marble on the ground. After muttering a few draconic words that radiated with power, he lightly threw the door in the air, only for it to grow to the proportions of a normal one, sucking in both the bowl and spoon. With a resounding thud, it anchored itself on the ground.
"Please knock when it is time for the game, so I can accompany you. Aside from that have a great day until later."
With that he entered his extra-dimensional mansion, so he could start his four-hour trance. He may not have used much magic, but it couldn't hurt to have his full arsenal at his disposal, he also would have to forge a ticket later, but that would only be a matter of seconds.
He had just been served lunch by the ghostly servants of his 'Magnificent Mansion' when someone knocked at the door. He was pretty sure the match would only begin in about two hours.
He put down his silverware and went to the door. When he opened it he saw a man before him. He wore a black business suit, had short grey hair, and a, in his opinion ridiculous, mustache that looked more like a shoe brush with most of its hairs cut off, than an actual mustache.
Behind the man stood a tall redhead who was obviously also a Weasley, although he wondered why he wasn't with this family when they arrived.
"May I come in?"
He looked at the man again.
The man had already begun to take a step forward not expecting that answer, with a baffled expression he looked at him.
"I said no."
"Do you know who I am?"
"I am Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Crouch. I am Salarus 'Wandbreaker' Archmage of Old."
The man visibly paled at his title, but quickly regained his composure.
"It is a pleasure to meet you Sir Wandbreaker. Might I inquire why you are here? It has been decades since an Archmage of Old visited England."
"It was a whim. I wished to watch the quidditch World Cup finale after I read about it in the Prophet and decided to come."
Of course, that was utter bullshit, but what could the ministry official do against it. All ministries over the world had decided to not anger one of the few remaining Archmages. Not after one of them had whipped out the Russian ministry a few centuries ago when they tried to control him. He was not as volatile and aggressive as that necromancer, but he would still take some measures to reprimand the ministry should they take it too far.
"Ah. But I am afraid I have to ask that you conceal your..." He gestured at the door. "We are supposed to not draw attention since this is a muggle campground."
Now that was a load of bullshit.
"Then I think you should talk to the folk over there, a tent with two stone towers coming out of it is far more suspicious than a random door standing straight that no-one is able to open."
He gestured to a tent that had two medieval towers made of stone sticking out from the corners.
"Now If you'll excuse me I will finish my dinner."
He was about to close the door when he was addressed again.
"Hey, Mr." "Wandbreaker." "Why don't you" "Eat with us." "We have a lot of Questions" "if You wouldn't mind."
He contemplated a bit.
"What are you having?"
"Sausages," "Baked Beans," "and some toast."
"Why not. Mr. Crouch if you would excuse me."
He completely ignored the ministry official and sat down at the campfire. Taking both the toast and beans that he was offered.
"So you two, what do you wish to know?"
"Well." The two looked at each other. "Hermione told us about that Tarrasque thing you told her about and we were wondering."
"How old are you?"
"Fred, George, mind your manners, that is not something you just ask out of the blue."
"It's alright Mr. Weasley. I was born about 1437 years ago, but my body is only about 689 years old."
"How does" "That work?"
"Well, my home is situated in the Astral Sea, as I have already told you. Since time is not really a concept there, creatures do not age. It can be quite confusing at times."
"But how are you even 689 years old? Do you have a philosopher's stone, like Nicolas Flamel?"
"No Ms. Granger. I am a Conjurer, not a Transmuter, 689 is still well within my expected Life Span, even if I hadn't expanded it with magic."
"WAI', Y'r ear'!" the red-haired boy shouted while chewing.
"Yes, I am not human but a moon Elf."
"Wait, I read about elves, they are a myth, they are supposed to be extinct."
"Far from it Ms. Granger. Although there are only two major elven settlements that survived the time, we are far from extinct, those settlements are just not on the Material Plane. Sadly most other ancient races did not have such fortune. Even the dwarves only have one city left and they guard their borders quite closely."
"Dwarves are real?"
"Of course. Although they were always drunk and holed up in their caves and mountains that doesn't mean they are not real."
It seemed he had stunned them with this revelation, but it was nothing new. It happened almost every time at some point.
"So what can" "You do with" "Your magic?" "Can you throw" "Fireballs?"
What was it always with the fireballs? He understood they were quite destructive but it was almost impossible to control who you would hit, he much preferred to call upon lighting clouds or form a bolt from his finger when needed.
"Yes. Although I prefer lightning."
"C'n you sho' us?"
"Please finish chewing before you speak. And no I will not throw a Fireball, it is far too destructive for simple demonstration purposes."
Instead eh conjured a small ball of fire in his palm.
"However I can show you a Firebolt."
He willed the flames into the form of an arrow using another simple Cantrip of his, before shooting it at a nearby tree, burning a visible dent in it. It had been the right choice to tone down the power, otherwise, the tree would already be lit aflame.
"Wow." "That's awesome." "Can you" "Teach us?"
"While anyone should be able to learn it with enough training, I am not taking apprentice right now, so, unfortunately, No. And even if, you would start off with something simple like Prestidigitation."
"A simple little Cantrip that allows you to perform a multitude of little things. Wash or soil an object, flavor and warm up food, create small illusions, and a bit more."
"What's a Cantrip?" The twins had a mischievous grin on their faces, they were obviously the people who knew how to use small effects and spells to achieve what they wanted.
"Those are the simplest of spells, not taxing on the mind at all. Taking so little energy from the Weave it is basically insignificant allowing one to cast them as often as one needs, without allowing the mind to rest."
"Wait, but can't you use any magic as often as you want?"
"No, Mr. Potter. To a certain extent that is the case for your modern magic. For magic that utilizes the Weave spells are sorted into ten different tiers, from zero to nine. The higher the spell's level, the more taxing the cast. When you overstep your limits and try to cast more it can have serious repercussions. If you try to cast a 9th level spell more than once without rest the spell might even succeed, but the pressure on your mind and body will undoubtedly kill you."
"And what can 9th level spells do?"
"Even...reviving the dead."
At this, his expression went serious.
"No, Mr. Potter. Reviving the dead is impossible. Once a soul has crossed the boundaries to its afterlife, wherever that may be, there is no way to bring it back. You can raise zombies and the like, but a soul can not be brought back into a body."
He didn't need to tell the boy that it had been possible a long time ago, he didn't need to know.
"So you could, like, turn into a dragon?"
"You don't need a 9th level spell for that. A simple polymorph is enough as long as you yourself are strong enough."
"And of what level is that Polymorph, Mr. Wandbreaker?"
"Just a 4th level spell. Although there are more potent variants and ones that can transform someone permanently into a creature or an object."
"Will you" "Not teach us?"
"No. But if you guess the outcome of the game correctly, I will give you a scroll that if you study it long enough will allow you to utilize Prestidigitation."
"Deal." Both twins instantly shouted.
"So? Your guess?"
"Ireland wins, but Viktor Krum catches the snitch."
"Hm. Interesting guess. Anyone else want to try?"
All of them made a guess, even Mr. Weasley. All of them different, meaning he needed at most two scrolls if the twins were right.
"Well if you'll excuse me. I have to prepare two scrolls, as unlikely as that outcome is. Please notify me later. Until then."
With that, he entered his mansion again. Quickly manufacturing the two scrolls.
When they had been asked to present their tickets he had just quickly conjured up a slightly altered copy of the ones he had already seen being presented by the Weasleys. He was wondering if it would spell any trouble for someone else since he had just put a random number on there that happened to work. Well, it was not his problem, but that of the owner of the actual ticket.
On their way up to the VIP Lodge, he had trailed a bit behind and was quickly joined by the twins.
"That ticket." "It was a fake," "Wasn't it?"
"And what makes you think that?"
He didn't even try to hide his smirk.
"Just a hunch." "Don't worry we won't tell anyone." "But how'd you do it?"
"Like I said I'm a conjurer, specializing in summoning and creating items out of thin air. That is all I'll say about that."
After a few more minutes they arrived at the top of the stairs and went out into a luxurious lodge, they were almost the first ones here. The only other people present being Ludo Bagman, as Salarus had learned the man was called, who greeted the Weasleys with a big grin. Apparently they had made a bet with him.
And back in the corner sat a House Elf besides a seemingly empty seat. He didn't have to cast any spells to recognize that someone was sitting there under some kind of illusion device. But he didn't care, it wasn't his problem.
He took a seat the row behind the others letting them converse with each other. Ignoring the people that slowly filtered in, instead, looking around and taking in the view, they were quite high up. And although it wasn't that impressive of a forest surrounding them, it was still beautiful in its simplicity.
"Well if it isn't Potter and friends."
"Fuck off Malfoy."
He was disturbed in his observation when the people he had accompanied seemed to be harassed by a boy with platinum blond hair and a man, presumably his father. The man was in a sour mood, was he perhaps the owner of the ticket he had forged.
"Well, Weasley, it seems you have stumbled upon some Gold or did you have to sell your home to get these tickets. Not that it would have been enough."
The man reminded him of the arrogant nobles who used to belittle everyone due to their money. Thinking it made them better, and that they were worth more due to their noble bloodline. The kind of people he could not stand.
"Mr. Weasley, is there a problem?"
Everyone involved suddenly turned around when he had spoken up.
"I don't believe we have met. I am Lucius Malfoy."
He ignored the outstretched hand and kept looking at Arthur with a questioning look.
"No no. He is just someone who thinks we shouldn't be here because we are poor."
"That is idiotic. You have acquired the tickets through legal means, so you have every right to be here."
"What, how dare you ignore me. I'm Lucious Mal-"
He turned his head. And looked directly into the man's eyes.
"Please don't interrupt my conversation."
This infuriated the blonde man. He drew his wand from his cane, but before he could raise his hand to point at him, Salarus had already conjured his Magehand and backhanded him across the face, shocking everyone present. Making the man drop his wand.
"Don't assume you are important."
"Do you know what you just did? I have connections in very high places."
"So? None of them are influential enough to do something against me."
"Just wait until Fudge hears about this."
"Please tell him. Oh and before I forget, you introduced yourself, it would be rude of me not to do the same. Salarus 'Wandbreaker'. Now if you would kindly take your seats, you are blocking the entrance."
The man wanted to protest but he shot him a deadly glare, making him flinch and leave them alone.
"Wow. I never thought I'd see that."
"You're welcome, Mr. Potter. I hate those kinds of people, they remind me of the nobles who would let their subjects suffer thinking they were worth nothing."
"I wish I was able to do that."
"Well Mr. Weasley, if you guessed the outcome correctly you may be able to."
"Please, Arthur. But it isn't like I would need that, it is just that I would lose my job."
"Is he that influential in the wizarding world?"
"He knows the Minister personally."
He just shrugged his shoulders.
A few minutes later the game began. It wasn't the most exciting thing he had ever seen, but it had a certain charm to watching people fly on brooms playing a game instead of being forced into an arena to battle to the death, it had something peaceful and simplistic to it.
Alas, the game was over, far too quickly in his opinion. Time always flew by when he was in the Material Plane, such was the nature of his elven perception. He sighed before noticing the twins in front of him, each holding out a hand with wide grins on their faces.
He reached into his bag and took two scrolls out, he had made a deal with them after all.
"You will show these to no one else, understood. They are for your eyes only. And I recommend to get a book to write down your notes, it makes casting and understanding old magic much easier."
With that, he handed the scrolls to the twins who seemed to have completely forgotten their bet with Bagman.
Hey hey, new story, well more like Two-Shot.
This one is gonna be more relaxed, not really any serious fights. I mean Salarus is a Lvl 20 Wizard (I'm gonna use 5e by the way), he can do whatever the fuck he wants. This is gonna be more like talking about stuff and compare old magic and modern magic. And putting more focus on the actual school life of Hogwarts than the originals.
To anyone who has not the slightest clue what being a Lvl 20 Wizard means because you don't play DnD and just stumbled upon this. Those are the strongest Wizards in DnD to the point where Gods are wary of pissing you off because you are an actual threat to them. Of course, there is strength above Lvl 20 but that is a whole different story.
Also for those who care, I got an Ausbildungsplatz. Granted I'll start August next year and will have to move again, I am happy because this means that I'm slowly getting my life together.
Hope you enjoyed it.