Chapter 42.6- Doom Days

I turned into the hallway, beginning to make my way to the kitchens. From here, it was about a five minute walk as I travelled the castle’s back and out of the way corridors. Of course, I could not help but notice how things were different. The portraits were alive with a sort of enthusiasm I hadn’t ever seen them exhibit. They scurried about from frame to frame, etching me travel through the castle and whispering to themselves. If my instincts wee right, then they were probably keeping track of the other champions just as thoroughly, and it was not until I spotted a familiar armoured man dash through a painting of a farm into another one that had a woman seated in front of a grand piano.

“Sir Cardogan Sir” I called his attention, turning to him. But it was like he could not hear me. No mater ho such I showed his name, he did not respond. He did not even react like he could hat anyone calling my name. And perhaps mot damning was the fact that none of the other portraits could hear me either. And trust me I tried.

It was probably some alteration to the castes wards to prevent the champions being able to interact with the portraits and getting an unfair advantage through that. Still, it was annoying as all hell. But admittedly less annoying than it Ould have been if fleur or Krum could just give their clues to portraits and find their way to he Kitchens with little effort. That would have sucked— especially with Peeves having done his level best to waste as much of my time as possible.

I turned the next corner and was stopped with a rattling sound from one of the suit of armor’s that lined the walls. This was one of thhoserandom hallways that just happened to have close to twoscore suits along its wall.

The armour ripped itself open and I was met with myself. Except that it was not me. Not truly me at least. It looked just like I did, except that it had a pair of red glaring eyes with yellow sclera. “Hello Harry. I am your Doom” the facsimile of me said with a cackle that turned into full blown laughter. I diagnosed the creature for what it was in a matter of seconds. A boggart. I knew the right counterspell but as I watched my body be by struck by laughter from something that was clearly not funny, I felt rage replace reason.

My wand tore through the air and instead of the transformative counter curse, it was black flames that I called into being. Flames that devoured the creature whole in a matter of seconds. I could taste its fear, its pain, its despair in the air as it screamed its defiance as its last act in this world.