THE HEART OF ASSHAI

Prologue

From the Hall of Prophecy:

Godric's chosen three will fall to the Dark star. Victory will mark their demise.

Two will depart this life; one, this world.

—Cassandra Trelawney

From Signs and Portents, recovered by Archmaester Marwyn and featured in his Book of Lost Books

Light's Champion will arrive by the Shadow.

Through death and through life, she will lift the darkness.

Phoenix, she will rise from the Ash and join with the Promised in the Second War for the Dawn.

—Daenys the Dreamer

STYGAI

Hermione was burning.

But this heat—it wasn't like the scorching, crimson tongues of the Cruciatus that she knew so well, the liquid fire that had charred every capillary of her bloodstream from the inside out, razing her sanity to cinders in moments that spanned seconds and eons all at once.

No.

This heat was electric, and even through the agony of it all, Hermione could feel herself being stripped down and remade in its flames. The scars of her past were being mercilessly incinerated and it was the most harrowing relief she'd ever experienced. She writhed against the stone ground and let loose a scream, equally tortured and triumphant.

Somewhere in the distance, a great roar called out in answer, and Hermione smiled, a new peace settling in her bones.

She wasn't alone anymore.

Her amber eyes flew open, and their curious gaze swept over her surroundings. As she rose shakily from the rugged ground, taking in the world before her, Hermione laughed in spite of the pain still coursing through her veins. Her smile twisted as it mimicked the wryness of her thoughts.

Well, she mused to herself, if I'm going to burn...I might as well do it in hell.

The city around her—if it could be called that—was a crumbling, blackened ruin, shrouded in night. The flames that still engulfed her form were the only source of light in the place, and she could feel their magic—now her magic—sheltering her body and mind from the insidious darkness that seemed to ooze from its very soil.

Slowly, a chorus of high, sibilant shrieks reached Hermione's ears, sending a shiver rippling down her spine.

Twisted, wicked-looking creatures were sidling out from the shadows, drawn by the warmth and the brightness that Hermione exuded. Among them, there were serpents with hide like obsidian and sharp, ebony fangs; human-like beings, nude and covered in grayish scales, whose movements were oddly disjointed; wraiths, each composed of black smoke that billowed eternally within invisible confines; and in greatest number, there came the animated corpses, with rotting flesh and skeletal figures quite reminiscent of the Inferi.

Together, the creatures' eyes glinted like a sea of stars in the glow of the flames, but not a single pair produced a light of their own.

Seeing this, Hermione's suspicions were confirmed: these creatures were not alive, not truly. They thrived in death and in darkness, and left unchecked, they would consume and destroy any stray life that had the misfortune of happening upon their wretched city.

Perhaps they had already done so.

But no more.

With that final, grim, determined thought, Hermione let go.

An otherworldly cry tore itself from the young woman's lips as, at long last, she accepted the blistering heat into her body.

Fire merged with flesh, forging her anew as a being of fire and light.

Then, without warning, Hermione threw her head back and flung her arms wide open, and a torrent of energy burst from her in a ring of golden-white flames.

The ring surged outwards, vaporizing the demons around her where they stood before they even had the chance to cry out with their unearthly voices. Hermione closed her eyes, flexing her magic to fuel the flames, pushing the ring into the city.

Fire raced through deserted streets and licked voraciously at the black stone walls of their dilapidated structures, searing away the dark magic therein with incandescent light. The darkness left the stone buildings in smoky, black wisps that faded into nothingness, revealing grays and browns and reds and even whites as their true colours.

Hermione's eyes fell open once more and she watched in silent awe as the flames purged the now evident curse from the city around her, freeing it from the malevolence that had festered there for so long.

Eventually, after an immeasurable period of time, the white-gold tendrils of fire receded from the far reaches of the city, having fulfilled their purpose, and converged upon their source. The flames swarmed Hermione, and she cried out one last time as her body reabsorbed the fire, welcoming it back into her being.

Then, as quickly as the flames had taken over, Hermione's form was restored to flesh and blood. Suddenly exhausted, she swayed on her feet; it wasn't long before she fell to the dirt, drained from the exertion of her newfound powers.

High overhead, that same, thunderous roar sounded, making the very ground tremble with its might.

Hermione let her head fall back—heedless of her hair mingling with the dirt—so as to peer up at the sky in anticipation. Her eyes glistened with wonder at the sight that awaited.

A massive dragon was flying in great, leisurely circles above where she lay, casting a great shadow over the city in the faint, growing light that hinted at the dawn. Slowly, in arching spirals, it flew lower and lower in the sky, and as the dragon came nearer to her, Hermione couldn't help but marvel at its sheer size.

With a graceful dive, the beautiful and terrifying creature completed its descent, landing in the dirt at Hermione's side with such control that despite its impressive mass, the ground did not so much as give a tremor.

A long and elegant scaled neck wove into Hermione's field of vision, followed shortly by the head attached to its extremity.

In the next seconds, vivid orange-gold eyes stared down at Hermione, holding the young woman transfixed as she recognized the stunning age and intelligence within their depths. Amazement aside, Hermione bore the dragon's perusal unflinchingly, unafraid.

The two beings of fire watched each other for a time, recognizing the peculiar, innate camaraderie that existed between them as well as their mutual delight at the prospect of a companion after suffering as long as they had in isolation.

Then, Hermione broke off the silent exchange, distracted by a gentle nudge to her arm.

The dragon was extending its wing to her, unmistakable amusement twinkling in its ancient eyes when her gaze flicked back up to meet its own. The dragon snorted at her fondly, nudging the young woman with its wing once more, this time with a little more insistence.

After she recovered from her initial surprise, Hermione nodded wearily at the creature in acknowledgement, a gesture which it then returned with a bob of its enormous head.

Heaving herself up on all fours, the witch proceeded to crawl up the dragon's leathery wing and onto its back. Despite her fatigue, she managed to find a comfortable place to rest in a natural dip between two sections of spikes along the dragon's spine. Hermione settled herself into the space as best she could, lying down on her stomach, resting a cheek on the scaly surface of the dragon's back, and extending her arms to grasp a spike in front of her gently in order to steady herself for their departure.

Once she was ready, Hermione lifted a hand and patted the dragon's hide twice before returning her hand to its hold on the spike and bracing herself for what was to come.

Slowly, so as not to jostle its rider, the dragon stood on its hind legs and propped itself up on its wings, one limb at a time. It took several small strides, which evolved into leaps, until finally, with a few persistent beats of its wings, the dragon was airborne.

Hermione held on tightly as the dragon began its ascent, ruthlessly tamping down the flutters of trepidation in the pit of her stomach. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then began to concentrate on the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair in an attempt to calm herself.

The technique was certainly effective, because before long, Hermione's exhaustion got the better of her. Although she fought to stay awake, the soothing caress of the wind against her body and the steady rhythm of the dragon's wings soon lulled her into a heavy sleep.

And so, on that fateful day, a colossal, bronze-scaled and amber-eyed dragon was spotted soaring over the Ash between the jagged peaks of the Shadow Lands, carrying its weary rider south.