CH57 - The Egg

With the knowledge of Moros' hesitance to stray from the end of the tunnel, Edmund's evasion tactics had become much easier to plan. Whenever he would start shuffling around to the corner, the manticore would grow tense and reckless, something Edmund knew would eventually lead to a mistake.

On one such occasion, Edmund ducked under Moros' heads attempting to intercept him, trying to get to the area that the manticore was so fiercely protecting. As soon as the beast realized his goal, it gave up on attacking immediately, retreating without a second thought.

Its actions made it vulnerable, allowing Edmund to strike without being thwarted by the pesky graphorn's interference. The horned serpent, as usual, rang out to alert the creature, but the forewarning was for naught.

As Moros whipped his head around, blood from its new injury to the back of the head was sent flying in the air. The redness had made its ginger hair even more vibrant as its canines dripped with its life force.

The sight would have been intimidating if Edmund did not know the truth.

The manticore was on the back foot.

Two of its heads were no longer of this world, while another two were mostly out of commission. If Edmund had his way, one more would be joining its brethren soon enough.

The shrake, despite its ineffectiveness in the battle, was a constant impediment that he could do without. Watching the fish from the corner of his eyes, Edmund observed its habits. Four or five water blobs were inevitably followed by a refill from the flowing river. The pattern was unchanging, and its predictability was exploitable. The next time that the beast dipped down to restock its ammo, Edmund sent a broad-use overpowered warming charm in the vicinity of its neck.

While the internals of the shrake were obviously resistant to high temperatures to a great extent, the protections had their limitations. Unrelentingly, Edmund continued to superheat the water in and around the shrake's mouth, scorching it from the inside out. The idea, although simple, was challenging to execute because of the sheer power it required. Luckily, that was something Edmund now had in spades.

A deafening shriek erupted from the creature; an unpleasant sound, but one that sounded like music to Edmund's ears at the moment. He laughed carelessly as he watched the beast flail, throwing its head back in vain before becoming completely lifeless.

With blazing eyes, he turned to the hidebehind next, knowing the magical abomination was the last obstacle between him and Moros. The creature stared back at him unflinchingly, unaffected by the death of yet another member of his cohort.

Testing the waters, Edmund sent a quick severing charm its way. Neither Moros' main frame nor the hidebehind moved until the spell was about to make an impact, causing Edmund to feel confused. But at the last second, the silvery bear's entire figure warped, contorting out of the path of the curse with ease.

'Interesting,' Edmund thought.

This ability was the very reason the hidebehind got its peculiar name. The creature could, on command, shift its shape into a different form, allowing it to hide behind almost any object.

Throwing more spells in its direction, Edmund observed how far down its neck its powers extended.

His intuition was correct.

For the first two to three centimetres above its base, the hidebehind was incapable of twisting out of the way of an attack. Hitting such a spot with accuracy was a significant demand. Thankfully, Edmund was not constrained by the number of attempts he could make.

Almost one minute and thirty spells later, he finally struck true, leaving a small gash in its flesh. Under Edmund's disbelieving gaze, however, the skin knitted back together in an instant—good as new. While he may have drowned out Moros' misery by now, the hidebehind most definitely had not. Feeding on the negative energy allowed the bear to regenerate endlessly, making it nigh invincible.

Unless, of course, it was killed with a single spell.

Up till recently, Edmund had kept away from dark magic due to the preliminary knowledge about it he had discovered. While almost any spell could be used to do harm, true dark magic required negative emotions as fuel. The rush the practice brought and its intoxicating aftereffects were terrifying. Edmund had no problems dealing damage, but he did not want his mind to become fractured like Bellatrix Lestrange's.

Before casting anything nefarious, he needed a solid foundation in occlumency.

...Such as what he had now.

There was one particular incantation Edmund had diligently been working on, and now was the chance to implement it.

Biding his time, he transfigured a sharp rock under Moros' foot, making the manticore stumble.

Summoning a dark will to cut and pierce inside him, Edmund contained it within a small ball inside his head. Bringing the container to the forefront of his mind, he poked a small hole in it, allowing his intent to leak into his magic.

"Sectumsempra!" he whispered harshly.

*Splat*

The hidebehind's head flew as it was lopped off, still stuck in its mask of indifference.

Moros looked stunned, no rageful words spewing from him at this point. The manticore's arrogance and confidence seemed to have crumbled with the latest blow, falling around him like a flimsy house of cards.

By that point, the beast was a sitting duck. He had no protectors to save him and had grown tired and weak from the repetitive abuse.

It was almost laughably easy for Edmund to end the battle. The creature's paws were struck with tens of charms each, rendering them immobile. Once that was done, Edmund transfigured thick, steel chains to wrap around Moros' seven heads—or their stumps—and each of its feet with a sharp point and twist of his wand. Pulling on the restraints, he drew them taut, leaving the manticore entirely at his mercy.

'Old Edmund would never believe how easy this would be only a couple of months later,' he thought to himself with reminiscence.

Moros struggled uselessly, even as the light of battle drained from its eyes.

There was no point, and the manticore seemed to understand this deep down.

Ignoring the beast's human face for a second, Edmund turned his attention to the horned serpent. With a flick, he unbound its muzzle, freeing it. But Edmund knew this was not what the snake had in mind when it asked him for help.

§You have done it,§ it hissed with shock as if it would wake up from a dream at any moment. §But you have yet to fulfill your promise to me, speaker.§

Edmund hesitated.

§I will make it painless for you,§ he sighed.

From his satchel, he dug around for a potion vial he had prepared for this instance. Uncorking it, he applied it around the magical snake's neck, effectively numbing it.

§Goodbye, noble serpent,§ Edmund hissed with respect. §I will never forget what you did for me.§

§Thank... you...,§ it said quietly.

One severing charm later, and the horned serpent was dead, finally able to rest in peace.

Edmund bowed his head silently in respect for several moments before he took a deep breath.

Shaking himself from his melancholy mood, he focused on Moros once more. The once proud creature looked nothing like the majestic being it had been. It was disfigured beyond belief, scarred and gored all over. Unable to help himself, Edmund shook his head in pity.

"Do not give me that look!" it snarled in anger. "Kill me! I will not be caged again. I ask for death! A warrior's death! It is what I deserve!"

"And you will get it," Edmund replied. "But first..."

Locking his eyes with those of Moros' he delved into its mind again.

In this instance, he was searching for something specific. He wanted to find out what the manticore was hiding from him.

He breezed through the memories of Moros' early life, skipping over his time in the magical menagerie. Edmund was interested in what he had done between his escape and arrival in the Forbidden Forest.

As he watched, Moros returned to the island where he had been born, searching for others of his race. By then, the population had dwindled, and their habitat had been encroached upon by muggles and magicals alike. His home was nothing like what he remembered, and there was little left for him there.

And yet, he had found someone like him all the same: another manticore, one of the opposite sex. Slowly, Moros courted the female. Bit by bit, he got into her good graces, despite his abnormal appearance. The day he discovered his mate was with child seemed to be the happiest of his life.

But then, tragedy struck.

Since the latter third of a manticore's body was that of a scorpion, the birthing process was similar to it as well. Scorpions were ovoviviparous, which meant they would lay eggs internally, be hatched within the body and emerge from the womb alive.

Perhaps complications were common, or maybe it was because Moros was so anomalous. Regardless, the birth did not go as planned.

The egg that was created refused to hatch, sitting within its mother without any sign of activity. Eventually, the female manticore's body gave out, laying the egg whole, still in its shell form. The child within the egg was still alive, but its mother did not make it through the process.

Moros' thoughts were tinted with grief for years afterwards, but even then, he refused to part from his unborn child. The egg travelled with him on his journeys, accompanying him through everything. Its heartbeat was palpable, but it refused to hatch all the same. As time went on, Moros became convinced that the child was not a manticore at all but something else entirely created from his abnormal genetic structure.

He did not know how to care for it but knew that if things continued, it would sooner or later die. There was only a limited amount of nourishment inside the egg for the child to feed on. Its state of pseudo-hibernation could only go on so long before something gave way...

Drawing out of Moros' mind, Edmund's thoughts raced. He had learned a lot, and processing the information he gained would take a while.

'Now is not the time,' he chided himself.

"Farewell, Moros, the greek god of doom," he said lowly.

The beast snarled one last time before it breathed its last breath, its airway cut open, killing it. With the central brain deprived of oxygen, none of its branches could survive. It did not take long before Moros was gone.

Walking around its body, Edmund reached the manticore's nest. Rustling around the bed of branches and twigs, he unearthed a hidden cavity.

The egg.

It was completely white, the size of an ostrich egg, if not bigger. Placing his hand on it, Edmund could detect it moving from within. Its magic seemed to reach out to him, attempting to intertwine with his own.

Jerking his fingers away, Edmund looked at it with awe.

He could not let such an opportunity go to waste.

"Looks like you're with me, pal," he muttered slowly.