As one of the few dark magic spells capable of destroying Horcruxes, Fiendfyre was both cursed and devastatingly powerful. This magic could summon enchanted flames that grew progressively stronger, shapeshifting into monstrous forms that hunted down anything combustible with ruthless indifference—friend or foe made no difference. The cursed fire burned with an intensity that made Incendio seem like a child's candle flame.
This forced Orli to proceed with extreme caution. She had no intention of becoming another casualty alongside the Horcrux. Only two known methods could counter Fiendfyre:
Complete absence of any combustible material in the vicinity.
An extraordinarily advanced termination spell—hundreds or thousands of times more powerful than Finite Incantatem—magic far beyond Orli's current abilities.
The desert was her only viable option. Dobby had chosen brilliantly—endless expanses of sand and dunes stretched in every direction, utterly lifeless. Not even withered trees, desert lizards, cacti, or dried vegetation could be found.
Orli placed the locket and its protective pouch at the center of several towering dunes. She drew a steadying breath, raised her wand, and cast the curse.
The initial flames flickered like ordinary fire, so modest that Orli wondered if her spell had misfired. But her relief proved premature. After consuming the cloth pouch, the Fiendfyre exploded into terrifying life. Multiple serpentine heads erupted from the blaze as it spun and spread with voracious hunger.
The desert's already brutal heat became suffocating. In seconds, the very oxygen seemed to vanish from the air around them.
Dobby immediately Apparated them both to safety atop a distant dune. From their vantage point, they watched the inferno's heart with horrified fascination. Something within the flames convulsed violently, followed by the faintest echo of an agonized shriek—distant yet unmistakably filled with torment. A tendril of black smoke attempted to escape skyward, only to be instantly devoured by the cursed fire.
The Fiendfyre had grown larger than Hagrid's three-headed dog Fluffy. Worse still, the flames suddenly pivoted toward them, morphing into a colossal fire-bird that plummeted from the sky with predatory intent.
"Dobby, now!"
Without hesitation, Orli seized the house-elf's hand. They vanished in the space between heartbeats.
The instant they materialized back at the Waters estate, Orli had never appreciated the simple pleasure of breathing normal air. The Fiendfyre had come close enough to sear her nasal passages, leaving them raw and burning. She rushed to the kitchen sink, splashing ice water over her face and letting it flow into her mouth and nose despite the resulting coughing fit.
After toweling off, she found herself staring absently through the kitchen window. Surrey's sky had deepened to full darkness. The garden trees cast wavering shadows, and beyond them stretched the familiar wilderness of overgrown weeds. She squinted at the night sky, trying to determine the moon's phase and calculate when her Fluxweed would be ready for the next harvest.
Then something went terribly wrong with the night itself.
The stars scattered across the indigo canvas suddenly turned black, their light snuffed out like extinguished candles. Stars, moon, even the distant streetlamps at the road's end—all vanished. The gentle whisper of wind through grass and leaves fell silent. The mild summer evening transformed into something sharp and bitterly cold.
An impenetrable, suffocating darkness enveloped the entire estate, as though some enormous hand had draped a thick, lightless shroud over house and grounds alike.
Orli's blood turned to ice. She knew that darkness.
Dementors.
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