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Devoid - Book 1 of the Unspeakables Series
By HGFireWhisky

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Category: Post-Hogwarts
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Other
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance
Warnings: Dark Fiction
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 2
Summary: It has been almost a millennia since the Peverell Brothers had walked the Earth. Now, with the Ancient Ones stirring from their slumber once more, Death has chosen her newest champion to stand against the rising darkness. "When you find yourself peering into the void, do not be surprised to find your own reflection."
Hitcount: Story Total: 1527



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights ? J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:
This is my first fan fiction so any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. This story has been kicking around in my head for a while. I have always wanted to dive into the intricacies of what makes the "Dark Arts" different from other types of magic. How were they discovered? Did the original witch/wizard accidentally stumble across it only to be subject to consequences they did not foresee?

I have this outlined to be a rather long story. It takes place a few years after Hogwarts. Harry has been an Auror in this time and after some prompting from Kingsley, Harry signed up to become an Unspeakable. Ginny is now playing professional quidditch. They are not together at the beginning of the story. She will make appearances early on; however, it will not be an immediate romantic relationship.

As a warning, this story will have betrayal, cheating, angst, and romance. I hope that it is acceptable to post here even if there are side relationships explored during parts of the story. Not unprompted, but rather an integral part of the experience and a tool of the enemy. I do not think it is too much of a spoiler, due to the nature of the site, to say that this is ultimately a Hinny story.

I do hope that this story is a welcome addition to the universe that has meant so much to me over the years. The characters, community, and the many great authors who have brought the setting and characters to life in their own unique ways have made Hogwarts truly feel like a home away from home.

Enough of my blabbing, I welcome you to the Unspeakables series.




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“What makes the dark arts so dangerous?” Croaker asked the class of new trainees. The students, ranging in age from fresh Hogwarts graduates to seasoned aurors, stared back at him blankly. None willing to speak up and embarrassing themselves on the first day. A few were even diverting their eyes away in an attempt to not be called upon. The desks were assembled in a semi-circular lecture hall with rows of seats climbing upward like an academic stadium. Croaker never understood why they put his classes in here. While the other departments in the Ministry would have hundreds of new trainees each year, only a couple dozen made the cut for the initial Unspeakable training, and less than a quarter of those would make it past the first week.

 

“Potter!” Croaker barked, making a mental note to cut the few who had startled from the program. “Since no one else is willing to volunteer, maybe our local celebrity is up for the task. Surely you learned something in your time defeating Voldemort and did not just ride on the coattails of others.”

 

Harry's eyes focused on the teacher. While he was obviously on edge from being called out, his years in the Auror department had taught him not to rise to the taunts. His former partner often felt that he had not deserved to be accepted into the auror ranks without completing his NEWTs. “The spells fracture the user's soul when they are cast. Some spells fracture it into shards almost immediately, such as the Cruciatus, while others slowly erode it around the edges bit by bit where the witch or wizard is almost unaware of what is happening until it is too late. With the soul fractured, the person is driven to commit more and more depraved acts. We encountered both types of soul damage in cases in the Auror department. They are each equally horrific in their own way.” Harry finished.

 

“Does anyone else want to add upon that?” Croaker asked after a few moments of looking around the room. “No? Well then, I must say that was a well formulated answer, but it failed to touch on the underneath. The soul of the caster is indeed 'broken' although not shattered as you put it. But what causes it? What eats away at it? Why this spell or that spell and how did witches and wizards learn which was okay and which was not?” Croaker asked, the tempo of his voice picking up as he excitedly paced the room. The class stared back at him. “Johnson!” Croaker again shouted, pleased to see that he had not jumped.

 

“Yes Sir?” Johnson asked hesitantly.

 

“Well, were you not paying attention? What do you think the answer is?”

 

“I... I don't know sir.” Johnson replied.

 

“Well, I guess that is a good thing.” Croaker said. Suddenly, he reached up and violently threw back the hood that had been obscuring his face. The reactions of the students were mixed. Some stared dumbly, their mouths agape, while others let out gasps of shock. Croaker was not surprised to see Harry's wand slide into his hand and thought that Kingsley must have prepared him for some aspects ahead of time.

 

Croaker's eyes glowed an unnatural hue of purple. There was no iris, no sclera, nor pupil, but rather just bright purple orbs that seemed to let off enough light to slightly brighten the dim classroom. They also had the effect of casting an eery glow on the thick, bright purple tattoos streaking across both of his cheeks before forming into a closed eye on his forehead.

 

“No, what eats away at the poor, unsuspecting wizards is the void. It is a source of unimaginable power for those strong enough and,” Croaker added emphasis as he said this and paused as he made eye contact with each student, “smart enough to wield it. However, the void also seeks to corrupt all who attempt to tame it. It whispers constantly in your ears, and in your mind. While you are talking to friends, taking a shower, and even in your dreams, the voices will offer promises of untold power. But if you give in to the temptation, it will corrupt you, crush you, and tear you apart until you are nothing but a soulless servant doomed to an eternity of servitude for your sins.”

 

Croaker could see that almost all of the students were regretting their decision to attend the training. Their faces reflected a mix of horror and nervousness. That was good. The ministry was always on him to recruit additional 'talent' ,as they called them, to replace those that retired or had been lost. They did not understand that this was not like the desk jobs in the Minister's department. Those that were not capable to withstand the allure of the void were doomed to die an awful death and were a danger not only to themselves but to the entirety of the magical world. He had not been exaggerating when he said it was a source of unimaginable power. He had been an unspeakable for decades. No, he took only those recruits he truly thought could succeed, and even then the screams from those he had been wrong about were the cause for many a sleepless night.

 

As Croaker made a note of the students he would cut from the class. His eyes came to rest on Harry Potter. His face was impassive, but Croaker could see how his hand had tightened on his wand. His eyes had started on the whitened knuckles, but as he took in the wand within Harry's grip he could not stop the grin, looking almost feral with his face markings, that spread across his face. This was about to get interesting.

 

After this long pause, Croaker finally continued, “That is why they call us Unspeakables. For when you are peering over the edge into the deepest depths of the void and the whispers are all around you, the last thing that you want to do is find yourself whispering back.”

 

Just as suddenly as he had whipped it off, Croaker tossed his hood back over his head, the glamour charms concealing his face from the class once more. “That is the end of the class. I will send you each a letter by the end of the week on whether you made the cut.”

 

“That's not fair! We did not even have an assessment!” A short blonde woman interrupted as she shouted from the back of the class while rising from her chair.

 

Croaker let out a humorless laugh and could tell she was fresh out of school. “If you did not realize that this was the assessment, then you might as well not bother waiting on the letter.” The woman's cheeks colored in a mixture of anger and embarrassment for not having realized the nature of the assessment.

 

“For those of you that do make it, the letter will contain the location and preparation instructions for the full course starting next Monday. Have a good week.” Croaker said. He had turned his back on the class to start clearing his stuff from the desk, but stopped and looked over his shoulder with his obscured face, “Mr. Potter, please stay behind for a moment.”

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