AN: Yeah, I know, starting another new story, bad Jak. But I really needed to get this idea out there. The reason for this story is that you don't see very many stories where Harry is a necromancer. Or at least, I haven't seen many, and it was a very interesting concept to me.
If anyone wants to continue this story on their own, or take the idea and rework the beginning (as I am only gonna write the first chapter for now while I focus on my other stories), please just tell me through a review or PM so that I may easily find and read it (and mention it for others to find). The main premise is that the Mirror of Erised convinces Harry to become a Necromancer.
After all, Dumbledore said that many had wasted away before it, implying it is a dark artifact. Well, I just want to make it a little darker. Instead of just showing your deepest desire, this Mirror also shows you how to get it. Ambition is good and all, but read Macbeth, and you learn how it can be twisted into something dark.
The beginning is very reminiscent of the actual book, but it quickly takes a different path, and if someone convinces me to continue this story, you'll see just how different it can be.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, obviously
Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for. - Epicurus
Harry let out a sigh of relief once he was sure Filch and Snape had walked past the door he had entered. That had been too close for comfort, enough to make Harry reconsider returning to the Restricted Section. But not enough to stop him from using the Cloak. Not only was it the only thing he had from his parents, it was also too bloody wicked to just give up.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, the only light source being the few rays that sneaked through the gaps of the door, Harry began to notice a few details about the room he was in. It must have been a classroom once, maybe when Hogwarts had had more students residing within it. He could just about make out the dark shapes of chairs and desks stacked up against the walls. There was even an upside down waste-paper basket, something Harry couldn't remember seeing except in History class. The room was probably abandoned a long time ago if it had things only Binns still used. The other teachers just vanished whatever they didn't want.
But what really drew his attention was a magnificient mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. It was propped up against the wall, and almost seemed as if it had been placed there just to keep it out of the way. But that couldn't be right, who would not want to keep something so majestic?
He approached the mirror, and saw it had an inscription carved into the top: Desire stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. It made no sense to him, but then again, little that wizards did ever made sense. Not to say he was an exception to the rule, as he stepped in front of the mirror, wanting to see no reflection again. It was a game he had started playing recently, pretending to be a vampire, or making funny faces and then lowering the cloak so only his head was showing. Sometimes he would even practice sneering like Malfoy, but he never lowered the Cloak when he did that. It would be too embarrassing if Ron saw him.
What Harry saw in the mirror was very different to what he had expected. Whirling around, he clutched a hand over his hearts and checked to see if he was truly alone. In the mirror, not only had he seen himself, but also a whole crowd of people. But the room was empty. Not a single person peered back at him from the shadows like the mirror claimed. Curious, he slowly turned back to the mirror, and there he was, reflected perfectly even with the Cloak on. And behind his scared-white figure were at least ten others.
Harry snuck a look behind his shoulder, but not even a speck of dust was in a different place than when he had last looked. So why was the mirror reflecting so many people? Were they also invisible? Was he in a room filled with invisible people, all of whom could see each other in this magical mirror? Movement in the mirror drew his eye to the young woman standing right behind him. She was smiling and waving. Acknowledging him? Inviting him into the club of invisible people? He tried to reach out for her using the mirror as a guide, but his hand met no resistance. Not even the woven-water like feel he had come to recognize as an Invisibility Cloak. Nothing. Only air.
The others must have only existed in the mirror.
Disappointed, Harry examined the woman more closely, she was the only one to have done anything so far. She was a very pretty woman, he decided, with dark red hair and eyes - eyes just like his. The same brilliant green, the same shape, the only difference is that her's weren't covered by glasses. He edged closer to the glass trying to get a better look with the little light he had available. If he returned, he would need to bring a lantern.
Harry was so close the mirror at that point, that his nose was nearly touching the glass. He could just barely make out the light reflecting off of tears streaming down the woman's face. And yet, she was smiling too. The man next to her moved then, putting his arm around her. He was tall and thin, with glasses and messy dark hair that stuck up at the back, just like Harry's.
"Mum?" he whispered. "Dad?"
They didn't speak, only looked at him and smiled. Harry turned his attention to the other people in the mirror, and saw several commonalities. Some had green eyes like him, others had the same nose. One little old man even had Harry's knobbly knees. Speaking of, Harry's knees felt quite weak at the moment, like he would collapse to the ground any second. He didn't rightly care, though. He figured it was understandable for an orphan to feel a little awed when seeing their family for the first time ever.
He pressed himself hard into the mirror, wishing to fall through into another world where they were all alive and well, where he would have family to give him gifts on Christmas and Birthdays, to complain about, and to share memories with. For the first time since discovering magic, he wanted to trade it all away for something else. The Potters smiled and waved at Harry, and he just pressed into the mirror harder, staring hungrily back at them, drinking in all their details.
A distant noise brought him back to reality, and the pain of his numb limbs kept him from falling back into a trance. He wasn't sure how long he had spent in front of the mirror, but he didn't regret it. Not a second of it was wasted in his opinion. Taking one last glance at the mirror to tide him over until he could return, Harry hurried from the room.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
Harry wasn't going to tell Ron about the mirror at first. No, he was going to keep it all to himself. But the longer he thought about it, the more he wanted to show someone else his family, as if that would make the images in the mirror more real, as if that could make up for years of having no friends to introduce to no family. In the end, he decided to share the story of his nighttime adventure with his redhaired mate, and take him along next time.
"I'd like to see your mum and dad," Ron said eagerly. "Shame about finding nothing about Flamel, though. Hey, why aren't you eating anything? Have some bacon or something, you were up all night, you'll need the energy if you want to show my this mirror."
But Harry couldn't eat. He took two bites of rashers and almost threw up. The chance to see his parents again was making him jittery, the nerves not letting him keep anything down. He couldn't wait until night time. His excitement was so great that he had completely forgotten about Flamel and the three-headed dog. When compared to the mirror, everything didn't seem very important anymore.
"You alright, mate?" Ron asked, "You look a little odd."
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
Harry's greatest fear was no longer detention or point loss. Not even that Snape would steal whatever the dog was guarding. No his greatest fear was that he might not have been able to find the room with the mirror again. His pace was greatly diminished with Ron beneath the cloak as well, and Harry had only found it in the middle of an adrenaline rush.
The two tried retracing Harry's route from the library, but ended up lost, wandering the dark passageways for nearly an hour before Ron could take it no more.
"I'm freezing and tired. Let's just forget about it and go back. We can try sneaking away during the day when it won't be so cold."
"No!" Harry hissed, and Ron flinched back as if he had been hit. "I mean, no. It's right around here, somewhere. I know it is."
Ron wisely kept quiet while Harry calmed himself down and wondered why he had snapped like that. Ron was his best mate. You don't treat your best mate like that. Of course, family came before friends, but was he really thinking about the reflection in the mirror as family? Sure, they might have looked like his family members, but they were just shades.
Just as Harry was about to say that maybe they should actually turn back, he spotted a suit of armor he remembered standing near the door. "There it is, it's that door over there, right by the knight."
They sped up and pushed the door open together. The second it was open, though, Harry raced off, leaving Ron to close the door alone. Standing before the mirror, he couldn't help but beam. His parents beamed back at him.
"See?" Harry whispered. "It's my mum and dad, and so many more!"
"I can't see anything. Just you Harry."
"Look! Just look at them all... there are loads of them!"
"I can only see you."
"You're not looking right. Here, stand where I am."
Harry stepped aside, but when Ron stepped in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore. He couldn't see his mum and dad, just Ron in his stupid, paisley pyjamas. Harry's face fell in disappointment.
Ron, though, was transfixed by his image, "Look at me!"
"Can you see all your family standing around you?" Harry asked, hope restored.
"No, I'm alone, but... I'm different... older... and I'm Head Boy!"
"What?!"
"Yeah, I am wearing the same badge Bill used to. And I'm holding the House Cup. And the Quidditch Cup. I'm Quidditch Captain, too!" Ron managed to tear his eyes away from to mirror to spare Harry's face a quick glance before his attention was pulled back to what he was secretly calling 'Uber-Ron', "Do you think it shows the future?"
"How can it? All of my family are dead. Now shove over, I want to have another look."
"You had it all to yourself last night, let me have my turn!"
"You're only holding the stupid Quidditch Cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my family again! I want to see my mum and dad!"
"Hey, it's not stupid! Don't push me! I said don't push me-"
A sudden noise from outside in the corridor made them both quickly quiet down and freeze mid-tussle. They had forgotten they were breaking the rules, and their shouting was probably leading Filch right to them.
"Quick!" Ron threw the Cloak back over them just as the door creaked open. The ugly face of Filch looked in, luminated by a lantern he carried in one hand.
"Guess no one's here. Come on, Mrs. Norris, I'm sure I heard naughty students somewhere around here."
As the maddening pair of Caretaker and cat left, Ron felt it was safe to speak once more, "Let's go, this isn't safe, he could have caught us. If that was Snape we would be in detention by now."
When Harry did not respond, just continued staring into the mirror, Ron pulled him out of the room and back to the Gryffindor Tower. Harry did not react the entire trip.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
The next morning, it was the snow had not yet melted, and the soft white powder carpeted the grounds, creating a beautiful wonderland of frozen fun. A wonderland of frozen fun not enjoyed by two eleven year olds, but not from lack of trying by one.
"Want to play chess, Harry?"
"No..."
"What about having a snowball fight? I bet Fred and George would drop whatever crazy thing they are doing to have a repeat of the Great War of 1991, eh?"
"Don't feel like it..."
"Well, why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"
"You can go..."
"Listen, Harry, I know what you're thinking. Don't go back to that mirror, Harry. I've got a bad feeling about it, it makes my skin crawl. My dad always says never to trust anything if you can't see where it keeps its brain. Besides, you've had too many close shaves. Last night proved that even if they can't see you, people can still find you in other ways. What if someone runs into you? What if you knock something over?"
"You sound like Hermione right now."
"Whatever, Harry. I'm serious here, don't go."
It didn't really matter to Harry what Ron was saying. He wasn't even paying attention, truly. All he could think about was going back to the mirror and seeing his family. And this time, he wouldn't let anyone get in his way.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
The trip was much faster that night as he had remembered the route Ron and he had taken back to the Tower. In his excitement, Harry was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't rightly care. He saw no one the entire time. Not even the ghost of that tall lady who often passed through the mirror's corridor.
And there they were. His family. All smiling at him. One of the older men nodded at him in greeting and the smiles on his parents' faces grew. There was nothing stopping from spending all night with his family this time. No Ron to pull him away from his mum and dad. Harry reached one hand out to touch the glass, once more wishing for some way to turn the image in the mirror into reality.
"So, back again, Harry?"
Harry spun, feeling like his insides had turned to ice, and raised his wand in front of his face. A pointless gesture considering his spell repertoire, but he figured if Ron had used wingardium leviosa to defeat a troll, he could probably use incendio to at least distract someone while he makes an escape.
"Now, now, Harry, there is no need for that." There, sitting on one of the desks by the wall, eyes twinkling as if he had just seen something wonderful, was none other than Albus Dumbledore himself. Harry felt so stupid. He must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror and so secure in his belief that only he knew about the room that he hadn't even bothered to look around. Of course Dumbledore knew about the mirror, he was probably the one who put it here.
"Sorry, sir." Harry lowered his wand and head in tandem. "I didn't see you there."
"It's strange how short-sighted being invisible can make you, don't you think, Harry? Now, I see that you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Desire."
"Yes, sir." Harry chanced a look over his shoulder at his smiling family. "It's wonderful, isn't it sir?"
The smile on Dumbledore's face slipped a bit, but it came back shortly and the twinkling in his eyes intensified. "I'm assuming you have realized what it does by now? No? Well, let me explain. The happiest man in the world would be able to use the Mirror of Desire like a normal mirror. That is, he would look into it and only see him as he is. Do you want to give it a try?"
In truth, Harry had figured out what the Mirror, now that it had a name he capitalized it in his mind, did the night before with Ron. He just hadn't wanted Dumbledore to know he knew. So, pretending to be thinking things over, Harry slowly answered what he knew to be wrong, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want."
"Yes and no," Dumbledore responded quietly, just as Harry knew he would. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. However, it gives neither knowledge nor truth, and many men have wasted away their lives before it, desperate to know if what it shows is even possible. Sometimes, it is not, like you seeing your family all standing around you, unfortunately. Other times, through hard work and perseverance, the image in the mirror can be achieved, like your friend Ron seeing himself as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain."
Harry was floored. Figuring out what he saw in the mirror was not very difficult, he was an orphan who had never seen his family. But how did Dumbledore know what Ron had see? In fact, how had Dumbledore even known that Ron had looked into the mirror? Were the two of them really so predictable... or was he told?
"He told you, didn't he?"
"Pardon me, Harry, what did you say? My hearing is not quite what it used to be. One of the burdens of old age, I fear."
"HE TOLD YOU!"
Dumbledore reeled back, shocked by the sudden venom in Harry's voice. He stepped forward to try and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and calm him down, but Harry turned away and walked towards the mirror, staring into it deeply.
"Why did he tell you? He betrayed my trust! I showed it to him cause he was my best mate, and then he goes and tells on me! Well, not again! We're done!"
No, that was something Dumbledore couldn't allow. Friendships were important for a young wizard, and Dumbledore would not risk Harry becoming another Tom Riddle. The aged Headmaster's heart was lightened knowing that Harry had become friends with the youngest Weasley boy. They were a good family, and he knew they would take care of him. If Harry broke it off with Ron, Dumbledore knew it would be doubly as hard to get him to make a friendship with one of the other Weasleys.
"No one told me anything, Harry, my boy. You will find I do not need a cloak to become invisible. Now, the Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, please don't look into it, Harry. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put on that admirable Cloak of yours and get off to bed?"
Harry knew a dismissal when he heard one, and knew better than argue. Besides, he was too tired and hurt to even voice a single complaint. However he took one last, surreptitious look at the Mirror. He would rather live in dreams than in reality if this was the pattern he would have to live by.
Glancing over the faces of everyone in the Mirror, he tried his best to commit them all to memory so that even if Dumbledore took the Mirror away, he would still be able to see them. Just when he had gotten to the end of the line, he saw something strange. One of the people, an old man in the corner, was mouthing something. None of them had even tried to speak to him before, so he find it curious that they would start now. He tried to read the man's lips, but Dumbledore bustled him out of the door too quickly.
It was only when he was back in his bed that it struck Harry what the man in the Mirror was trying to tell him. He's lying. But what about? As Harry shoved Scabbers off his pillow, a plan began to form in his head.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
He's lying. That's what the the old man was saying last night. The 'he' in question was clearly Dumbledore, but what was the lie? Obviously Dumbledore was lying about Ron not telling him anything. Harry didn't believe that Dumbledore could have been watching him for three nights that closely. As Headmaster, he had much more important things to do. But Harry had often heard about the Weasley family's loyalty to Dumbledore. He had always considered a good thing before, but now... not so much.
Was he lying about the Mirror being moved to try and keep Harry away from it? No, that couldn't be. Even had Dumbledore not planned to move the Mirror earlier, which was a possibility, he would definitely move it after last night. So what was the man referring to when he said that Dumbledore was lying?
Could it be... what the Mirror does? Did he lie about that? Harry didn't know, Dumbledore's explanation fit into what he had discovered. But there was nothing else that could have been a lie apart from the really obvious one. Dumbledore had said that the Mirror was being moved today, but when? Would Harry have enough time to see it in the morning?
With that plan in mind, Harry pretended to be sick until the red-haired berk left him alone to go have breakfast. Thinks more with his stomach than with his brain, that one. Grinning at his little joke, Harry set up a series of pillows under his blanket to look like his sleeping body and slipped on the Cloak. Then he sped towards the room he hoped still housed the Mirror. Since everyone was still in the Great Hall eating, he did not encounter anyone but some ghosts.
As he entered the room, he breathed out a sigh of relief seeing that the Mirror was still there. For now, at least. He dashed in front of it and drank in the sight of his family. This time, however, his eyes didn't immediately fasten onto his mum and dad, but onto the old man who had told him Dumbledore was lying.
"I've thought about what you said." Harry whispered, and the man began to smile. "Dumbledore, he lied about the Mirror, didn't he? What he said, about what the Mirror does, that wasn't true, or at least, not the whole truth? Right?"
The man's smile widened, and Harry felt a surge of happiness flow through him. It was almost as if he had made a family member proud of him. Now he knew why Ron wanted to be Head Boy and Quidditch Captain. Harry dearly wished that he had still living family he could make proud by doing well in school. But all he had was a Cloak, and a Mirror that he would be losing that day.
Thinking about Dumbledore taking away the Mirror made Harry so mad, he wanted to punch something. But the only thing within reach was the Mirror, and while he didn't want to walk over to one of the desks and lose sight of his family, he wanted to damage the Mirror even less. He was just getting control of his anger when he heard a noise outside. People talking, moving towards the room. Probably here to move the Mirror, he realized.
"No, not yet! I'm not ready yet!" He hissed quietly. Harry turned his attention back to his still smiling family, eyes roving over all of them, taking note of the littlest details he could see. "I wish there was some way I could still see you even without the mirror!"
There is.
Harry's eyes were instantly drawn back to the same old man who had mouthed a message to him last night. He was saying that there was a way for Harry to keep seeing his family, but how was that possible?
The man's hands disappeared behind his back, and when they returned to Harry's vision, they were clutching a book. No, 'book' didn't do it justice. It was a huge tome, with a dark leather cover and red letters. The Guide to True Power by Henry Theodore Potter. Henry Potter! The book was written by one of his ancestors! Probably the one showing it to him, too! Maybe Harry was even named after him!
Grinning and whispering his thanks to the man he assumed was Henry Potter, who nodded back at him, he turned to leave the room just as the door opened to let in Professors Flitwick and McGonagall. He quickly dashed to a corner to be out of their way, and watched as they levitated the Mirror and moved it out into the hall.
With the knowledge that a book written by his ancestor would allow him to see his family again, Harry wasn't as attached to the Mirror, but he figured he may as well see where they were moving it. He followed the Professors to the forbidden third-floor corridor and watched as they carried it into the room with the giant dog. Either it was going down the trap door, or the dog was getting lonely.
Now that that mystery was solved, Harry decided to start right away trying to find the book. The Guide to True Power. With a title like that, Harry was sure it could be found in the Hogwarts library. And if he didn't see it, he would try the Restricted Section again.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
Stepping over the rope that separated the Restricted Section from the rest of the Library for the second time in four nights, Harry hoped that the book he was looking for wasn't one that would screech. The moment he saw that there were no books written by a Potter in the main Library, he knew his luck was running dry after so many close shaves.
He walked between the bookshelves, and wished that the books here were as organized as the ones outside the Restricted Section. To be fair to the librarian, it was hard to sort books by author when most only had nonsense scribbles or even nothing on their covers. It took him several hours of wandering around before he noticed that the books seemed to be arranged by color of their covers. It was dumb, but it did help him find the Book, as he started calling it.
He was just about to prop it open across his knee when he remembered the last time he did so. Deciding it was better not to chance it, Harry shoved the book under his robe and hurried back to the Gryffindor Tower. He would find an empty, out-of-the-way room tomorrow and open it there.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
Flipping through the pages, what Harry found in the Book was not what he had expected. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but this definitely wasn't it. Though in hindsight, there wasn't really much the Book could have possibly contained. And besides, raising the dead, Harry figured, was a good way to see his family again. Something which wasn't going to happen soon, according to the Book, at least.
The first few pages were reserved for warnings, various things from soul corruption to susceptibility to disease due to working with corpses. Harry skimmed it, but his heart wasn't really into it. He just wanted to get started. After all, the sooner he started, the sooner he'd get to see his mum and dad again. He wondered how he would bring them back. Not as zombies, no that would be disgusting. Skeletons would also be no good, he wanted to see their faces. Maybe ghosts? The ghosts at Hogwarts all looked fairly normal, apart from Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron.
Well, he shouldn't get ahead of himself. He still had a long way to go before he was at that level. The first thing he had to do was try to raise small, weak creatures, preferably using some mediums like blood, hair, and incense to make it a little easier for him. He would eventually be able raise full armies with only a pinch of ash and a drop of blood, but for now he had to use many 'props' to help the spirit reconnect with the body. The Book recommended starting with common insects, as no one would miss them, no one would question you if you killed one, and when you did manage to bring it back, you got practice making it act like a normal bug.
Finding a bug was not as difficult as Harry expected it to be, seeing as how it was december in Scotland. The castle seemed to have a spider infestation. It seemed that Mrs. Norris couldn't do anything right. It took a bit of creative thinking, but Harry managed to empty a few jars of potion ingredients and trap some spiders for later experimentation. He didn't bother poking holes in the caps because he needed the spiders dead anyways.
Packing away all the jars but one, Harry realized he didn't have a knife. Knowing his nails were not sharp enough, and that he had no other way to get blood, Harry raised his thumb to his teeth and dragged it across fast. It hurt, a lot. And it wasn't a clean cut. But it would have to do until he got a proper knife.
Using his bleeding thumb, Harry drew an upside-down pentagram within a circle as the Book suggested, and put some hairs he pulled from his own scalp at each point. The Book didn't mention a specific number, so he figured it was okay not to count this time. Some of the later rituals he had looked at were very required very precise measurements and he was not excited about that. The pentagram was done, but his thumb kept bleeding. That wouldn't do, it could interfere with the ritual. Harry ripped a bit off the bottom of his robe and wrapped it tightly around his thumb. It wasn't perfect, but it would stop the bleeding until he could get it properly dressed in the Hospital Wing. He had no idea what excuse he would be able to come up with to explain it.
Checking on the spider in the jar he had left out, Harry saw it had stopped moving. Perfect. It was time to begin. He opened the jar and reached in, carefully cradling the spider in his palm before he set it down in the center of the pentagram. Taking a couple steps back, Harry tried to control his nerves. It took a few long breaths, but Harry managed in the end, and then began to chant as was stated he should in the Book.
"Servant from the cold dark, I call to you! You who were once part of the breath of the world! You who is now gone and forgotten! You who will again walk upon this shining Earth! I call to you! I call to you! My servant from the cold dark!"
Nothing. No change. The spider didn't even twitch. Harry sighed in disappointment, slumping slightly. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. The Book said it took most people several tries to manage their first resurrection. Hermione probably would have been able to do it first time, though.
That thought made Harry feel really angry. Strange, he had never felt jealous of Hermione's academic excellence before. He had also never cared so much about achieving something as he had in that moment. Harry could only console himself with the knowledge that Hermione would never allow herself to perform 'Dark Magic.' A few days ago, Harry was the same, but now he understood. The people in power called magic 'Dark' and made it illegal to keep people weak. Just like the Dursleys would keep him weak by forbidding anything he wanted. Thinking of the Dursleys just increased the rage he felt. Harry was so angry, he felt like he would punch anyone who came near.
He was falling deeper and deeper into the cycle of rage when the sound of something scuttling across the floor brought his attention back to Earth. And the first thing he saw was a patch of floor scorched with a pentagram. No blood, hair, or spider in sight. Harry's eyes roved from side to side, but he couldn't see anything. It was only when he looked down that he noticed it.
The spider he had been trying to bring back, the spider he was sure was lost forever, was standing right infront of him, one leg lifted, as if ready to move on command. For a few seconds, Harry just stared at the spider, and the spider stared back at him. And then he smiled. For it was not just any spider, it was is zombie spider. His zombie spider.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
The rest of Christmas was spent experimenting with what he could make his spider do, and bringing the others he had captured back to life. Ron tried to approach him, but the second he spotted the spider on Harry's shoulder being petted gently he turned and ran the other way. He hadn't gone near Harry since, and the black-haired boy had no complaints. He didn't want to deal with the berk, anyways.
He was slowly building up a whole army of zombie spiders, and he kept them all under his robe so no one would see them. Except for the first spider, which he kept on his shoulder. And no one suspected a thing, since the spiders all died from suffocation they had no obvious signs of death, and Harry found a ritual that prevented the decay of a dead body. All in all, Harry was feeling pretty good about things
And then the last day of break arrived and Hermione along with it.
"Harry?"
The boy in question looked up from the spider he was holding in his palm. He was trying to communicate with it without speaking out loud. Being able to silently coordinate his spiders would be an invaluable skill, he was sure, but it hadn't been going so well.
"Yes, Hermione?"
Harry instantly noticed that she was uncomfortable. Most people seemed to be uncomfortable around him, recently. He also found it obvious that she was sad and worried. What about, he wasn't sure. Everything was great. If he kept up this pace, he should be able to bring back human zombies by the end of the year. Well, that was being optimistic. He could barely control his spiders, attempting to control a human soul would probably shred his mind.
"You didn't come welcome me back." When she saw that Harry was not going to respond, only sit there blinking at her, she continued, "And Ron said that you two haven't talked in days. Are you feeling alright?"
"Why, Hermione, I am absolutely splendid. I don't think I have ever been better. Sorry about not coming to see you back, I was busy with Anaris here," He raised the hand holding the spider, "This little guy is actually why Ron and I haven't spoken. Did you know he's terrified of spiders?"
Hermione froze, shock coloring her feature, "Harry, be very careful, Harry. That's a false widow spider. It's the most dangerous spider in the UK! You do not want to get bitten. Try putting it on the ground, slowly." She tried to think of a way to help her friend, but was interrupted from her frantic thoughts by Harry's wild laughter
"No need to worry, Hermione, it's alright, Anaris is friendly. See?" As he spoke, Harry raised the spider to his face and let it rest on his forehead. "Everything's perfectly fine. In fact, Anaris is my new pet. We're trying to bond, so that Anaris will be my familiar."
"But, Harry, you already have a familiar, Hedwig!"
"So? What if I want two familiars?"
"You can't have two familiars!"
"Well, why not?"
"No one has ever had more than one familiar before!"
"And no one has ever survived the Avada Kedavra before me, either."
Harry sighed and looked away from the now upset Hermione. He was glad that he had chosen to work by a window, now. The snow was gone for the year, and now it was just rain and mud outside, yet it felt more fitting to him. When it stops raining, he should probably try and find a new animal to reanimate. The spiders were cool, but he wanted to get started on mammals. Turning back to Hermione, Harry saw she had not changed her expression while he contemplated his next steps, and sighed again.
"Listen, Hermione. I had a lot of time to think over the break, and I realized a couple of things. First of all, that Ron isn't really my friend. If you still want to hang out with him, that's okay, I won't begrudge you for that. But the more time you spend with him, the less I'll be able to trust you. Another thing I realized is that Dumbledore does not care. He may act like it, but he's not the kindly grandfather people see him as. One last thing I realized that I will now share with you is that I have been letting people walk all over me. No more. From now on, I'm looking out for me, and if you get in my, I'll end you. If any of the things I just said make you uncomfortable, you should leave now. And don't even bother trying to talk to me, I won't change my mind."
A few seconds passed in silence, neither one looking away from the other. And for those few seconds, Harry almost believed that he would still have a living friend by the end of the day. But it was not to be, as tears formed in the pits of her eyes. Hermione turned and ran, never once looking back.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
It was a chilly day, but Harry did not care. He was focused on the squirrel that was standing still before him. He had managed to bring it back after chasing away the cat that had killed and started to eat it. Thankfully it was still mostly intact, but Harry doubted he'd be able to bring it into the castle, seeing as how half its throat was ripped out. It was fine for quick experimentations though.
"Climb."
He was sticking with verbal commands for now while he got used to the feel of the squirrel's soul. He had gotten to the point that he could control the spiders with just a thought, and he often found Anaris following his orders before he even gave them. According to the Book, the more experience he gained with handling souls, the easier it would be for him to control what he brought back, even if he had never brought back that species before.
"Climb."
Harry wasn't even close to that level, though. He couldn't even get the squirrel to climb a tree, a task he felt would be particularly simple for it, after trying for near half an hour. The squirrel just sat there, looking at him like he was crazy. And Harry was starting to think he was.
"Climb the tree. Go on, do it."
Movement. Harry almost laughed in delight before he noticed the squirrel only tilted its head to the said, as if it didn't understand what Harry wanted. That was the final straw for Harry."
"Climb. Now."
And, apparently, it was the final straw for the squirrel, too. Harry raised his arms to cover his face from the explosion of gore that was the squirrel's body only seconds before. He had forgotten, strong emotions could mess with control of the spirits. While his rage had helped him bind Anaris when he first started, his current anger only gave the spirit of the squirrel a way out of his grip. He needed to be calm and collected while he worked, or much worse things could happen than the spirit simply leaving.
There were some rustles nearby, and Harry quickly packed his gear and fled the forest. It seemed the sound of the squirrel self-destructing had drawn some attention, and he wasn't about to stick around and find out who was also in the Forbidden Forest. He would need to be more careful when performing experiments in the future.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
Harry was seated at one of table in the Gryffindor common room, doing some homework. He would have been working on his experiments, but McGonagall was not impressed when he did not turn in three assignments in a row, and was now watching him closely. He could not allow anyone to discover his experiments, the Book was very clear about that. Which was a shame, because Harry was sure many people would be impressed with his progress.
Of course, the one time Harry was actually trying to do homework the common room was ablaze with chatter. He wasn't sure what about, he had stopped listening to the fellows after the Book called them 'pathetic sheep', but they were still loud enough to distract him from his work. Oh, how he wished to unleash all his pets on them, that would get them all to shut up. It would also get him some new material to work on, but he wasn't quite comfortable with the idea of having human zombies. While his end goal was to bring back his family, he wanted them to be as they were in life, not the pale reflections he could currently manage. Subjugating a human soul like that just felt wrong to him.
The portrait door swung open and Neville Longbottom hopped inside. And then immediately fell flat on his face. The common room exploded into laughter and only Hermione, she was too kind for her own good, stepped forward to apply the counter-curse. So much for that 'your House will be your family' speech McGonagall gave. Pathetic sheep. Even when one of their own is hurt they do nothing. If anyone hurt someone Harry cared about, which for now meant no one, Harry would destroy them. And then feed them to his pets. And then bring them back as a ghost, when he figured out how to do that, so he could continue to torment them indefinitely.
Two people sat in the chairs across from him. Harry sighed. This wasn't the first time people had approached him after the school found out about his falling out with Ron and Hermione. It had been common consensus that since he had left the two of them behind he was looking for new friends, and many had stepped forward to take that place. They were all shot down. Every single one of them. Some were constantly interrupted by the word 'no', others were brutally cut down emotionally, and some were simply ignored outright. He had hoped that the student body had given up, but it appeared he was wrong.
"Harry, mate-"
"You've missed-"
"Every practice-"
"Since Christmas! Are you-"
"Okay?"
Practice? He had practiced a lot since Christmas. Almost everyday, in fact. Except, the twins weren't talking about necromancy. They were talking about... Quiddsnatch? Quiddscratch? Quidditch? Yeah, Quidditch. He had completely forgotten. Where they really bothering him about something so trivial?
"So?"
The chairs on which the Twins had sat fell back in synch, taking the Twins with them. When they had managed to pull themselves back up, the Twins stared at him in shock.
"What do you mean so?!"
"You're the team Seeker, we need you at practice!"
Hmm, it seems that the shock had made them stop their twin-speak act. Lovely. "I still do not see what the problem is. I had other things to do, so I didn't bother going."
"Listen, Harry, you can't just miss practice so often. Wood wants to win, but he cares about the team more."
"And if you distance yourself from the team, then he'll be forced to replace you, no matter that you're the best Seeker in the school."
"I'll save him the trouble, I quit Quidditch."
Harry collected his materials and put them away in his bag before starting towards the Boy's Dormitory. Behind him, everyone that had heard his declaration, see: everyone in the common room, stood still with open mouths. None of them could believe it. Harry Potter was an amazing flier. Harry Potter loved Quidditch. Harry Potter had Gryffindor Pride. So why did Harry Potter quit the team?
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
He was back in the Library for some supplementary research. The Book expected readers to start with a certain amount of knowledge, much of which Harry did not have. Some of it was magical theory and the reactions between certain reagents, some was properties and meaning of colors, and some was more basic general knowledge that one would accumulate over time. Time that Harry did not have.
Finals were fast approaching, only nine weeks, and then he would be left all summer with no new magical information except for the Book. Thankfully he would still be able to experiment since he didn't need his wand for that, but he wouldn't be able to do some of the spells the Book contained. But he would still have the same problem of not knowing enough to progress. It didn't help that he had to figure everything out on his own. Had Hermione stuck with him, he probably would have shown her the Book after making sure she wouldn't report to Dumbledore like the last person he trusted did.
Nevermind that, thinking of what could have been is not the proper direction a young wizard's mind should go. The Book taught him that. It taught him so many things, much more than his teachers did. He often wondered why there were any classes at all if they never even mentioned the Book. Harry would bet that if Binns stopped droning on and on about Goblins and started covering material from the Book, he would actually be a good teacher. After all, he is a ghost, so he'd probably have some interesting perspectives on a lot of it.
Hagrid, the kindly Groundskeeper, was walking by, looking at the titles to do with magical creatures. Harry had never seen him in the Library, and even though it was common knowledge that Hagrid loved magical creatures, especially the more dangerous ones, the half-giant simply did not look right surrounded by books bound for people much smaller than him. He must have been very focused, for he had not even greeted Harry, something he always took the time out to do. In fact, he was one of the few people who still spoke to Harry at all. Apart from the teachers, of course.
Once Hagrid had left, Harry got up to see what he had been looking at. Dragons. That didn't make much sense. Hagrid probably knew more about dragons than the entire Library combined. They were his favorite animals. The only reason he would have to look them up is if he needed to reaffirm his knowledge, but why?
Not to raise a dragon, surely. That was illegal if Harry remembered correctly. And even if it wasn't, Hagrid's house was made of wood, not exactly dragon-proof. And yet, that was the only reason Harry could think of that would make Hagrid come to the Library. A dragon, being raised so close. It was giving Harry the chills.
He wasn't scared, not at all. He was fantasizing about having an army of zombie dragons like he did with spiders and squirrels. Madame Pince announced that the Library was closing and everyone began to mill towards the exit. In a daze, Harry put away all the books he used in their proper places and went back to the Gryffindor Tower himself, all the while thinking about what he should do about Hagrid's dragon.
"I'll wait for now," he decided, "and then when Hagrid gets out of his depth I'll offer to take the dragon off his hands and make sure it gets to a reserve safely."
Secure in his plan, Harry lay down in his bed and relaxed. It had been a long day, and he was getting closer and closer to his goal, he was sure of it. As he thought about what to raise next, he turned onto his side and smiled.
And then frowned as his eyes met those of Scabbers, that disgusting traitor's rat.
It seemed that Harry's next ritual victim- er, participant, had chosen himself.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
Scabbers struggled against the bonds that tied him down while Harry stood above him, chanting with a knife held high. It wasn't a long chant, Scabbers was only a rat, after all, and Harry quickly and precisely plunged the knife into Scabbers head. The rat twitched for a few seconds and then fell still. Harry smiled happily.
The knife had been serving him well, he would need to tell the House Elves. When they found him trying to take one of the knives from breakfast with him out of the Great Hall, the little creatures had panicked. So did Harry when he was approached by what he had thought were the Imps spoken of in the Book. Thankfully the situation was defused after a quick conversation, and Harry managed to get the House Elves to promise not to report his actions.
The only way he could get that promise extracted from them was promising in turn that he would let them clean up the messes caused by his experiments. Which explained why a House Elf had popped into the room once Scabbers stopped bleeding and snapped his (hers? Its?) fingers, vanishing the red liquid and any stains it might have left. They really were very useful creatures, and Harry promised to himself that he would never conduct any experiment on a member of their species without explicit permission. He would have even respected them had they not let wizards walk all over them. As they were, the House Elves reminded him too much of himself for him to even think about zombie House Elves.
Shaking his head to focus, Harry turned to the page of the Book with the recall chants, and began the second part of the resurrection rituals. The first chant he spoke was meant to keep the spirit close, and his next one should bring it back into its body, but under his control. He didn't need to use both, rat spirits weren't too different to squirrel spirits which he had mastered, but he felt it was better to practice using them while the spirits couldn't break out of his grip. If he messed up while trying to call back something more complex because it was his first time, the consequences would not be pretty.
"Child of Grim, I call you! Son of Rot, I trap you! Daughter of Cold, I bind you! You who once lay, sat, and stood on the Earth's great surface. You who once bathed in the Sun's warm rays. You who once ran to Comfort's embrace. Never more. The wonders of Life are no longer yours. Your only goal is my satisfaction. Your only dream is my success. Your only joy is my joy. You are trapped. You are bound. You are mine."
At first nothing happened. Scabbers didn't even twitch. Harry was getting flashbacks to when he first took control of Anaris. Then the temperature of the room dropped rapidly
Something went wrong.
"Bugger."
Harry wasn't quite sure what happened next, but the last thing he remembered was a sharp pain in his head. When he came too, there was no sign of Scabbers, but a ghost of a rat-like man was floating before him with a guilty look.
"Harry?"
"Who are you? What happened?"
The ghost gave a little smile that was tinged with sadness, "I'm Peter. Peter Pettigrew. But my friends called me Wormtail."
"Wormtail?"
"Yes, because in my Animagus form, it seemed like I had a worm for a tail."
"You're Scabbers?!" Harry's jaw dropped when Peter nodded in confirmation. "But how?! Oh, god! I killed you! I'm so sorry! So, so sorry!"
"Relax, Harry, please. You have nothing to apologize for. You have actually set me free and showed me the light. I am the one who must apologize. I am sorry, Harry, very sorry. You see, I'm the reason your parents are dead."
Harry froze, his muscles became rigid, his gaze icy, "Explain."
The ghost of Peter Pettigrew told Harry his story, from being part of the Marauders, then the Order of the Phoenix, and finally the Death Eaters. He spoke of his cowardice and weakness, his regret and guilt. He whispered, shame faced, about sharing the Secret with Voldemort, about framing Sirius, and about hiding out as Scabbers.
"In life, I only hurt you. I hope that now, in death, I can help you. Even just a little. Whatever you want to know, Harry, my knowledge is yours. "
The silence that followed was long. Almost as long as Peter's tale. Harry was in quite a quandary. On one hand, he really didn't want to accept help from his parent's traitor. But Peter was also a fountain of free information. Information that Harry would have a very hard time getting. His decision was a difficult one, but in the end, Harry picked the only logical one, no matter that his heart was aching.
"What happened to the other Marauders?" He asked in his cold tone.
Peter's sad smile simply grew bigger, "Sirius was sent to Azkaban. He's been there for about a decade now. At best, he's completely insane. At worst, he's dead and no one has bothered to check on him. As for Remus, he got himself lost in the highlands. From what I've heard, he still does some talks with the werewolf clans for Dumbledore. He petitioned for custody of you, but the Ministry wouldn't have it. Of course, if they knew that the place Dumbledore kept assuring them you were safe at was a muggle home, they would probably change their minds. I've met Petunia once, you know, we visited Lily one summer. Never liked that woman."
"Wait, Dumbledore placed me at the Dursleys?!"
"Well, not him directly. But he probably ordered someone to do it. I know he placed the wards himself."
Harry was having a hard time coming to term with the idea that Dumbledore was the reason he had suffered. Sure, Voldemort was the one who killed his parents, but Harry had been so young he didn't remember them at all. He would have been just as happy with an adoptive family that actually wanted him as with his birth parents. Much happier than with the Dursleys, for sure. And it's not like there weren't people who would have jumped at the chance to adopt him. He was bloody famous!
Actually, thinking about it, it was obvious that Dumbledore was the one to place Harry with the Dursleys. Who else had the power to do so? Who else would benefit from it? And who else had already proven themselves to be against his best interests? Dumbledore was at the top of every list.
He couldn't stay here, not with Dumbledore constantly breathing down his neck. He needed to leave. Slowly, plans began to take shape in his mind, all revolving around whatever was down that trap door and a fast way to travel.
His lips spread into a devious grin, and Peter was starting to wonder if helping the young wizard was really going to bring him back into the Light.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
Harry was back in the forbidden forest, deeper than he had even been before. His plan required him to have a better understanding of how to command his reanimations, and to be more comfortable with controlling smarter species. He had spent some time working on any lizard he could find to get a feel for reptiles, and now he was trying to master birds. Once he was good enough, he was planning to turn Hedwig into a zombie too, so he could use various rituals on her. They would make her tougher and smarter, not to mention resistant to cold, hunger, thirst, and fatigue.
The raven he was controlling hopped from branch to branch around the clearing he sat in, doing its best to relearn how to fly under his command. It stretched its wings, and was just about to take off when a dark shape fell on it. Harry took a step back, half out of fear, half out of pain. He had never had a connection snap on him that abruptly. Once he had gotten his headache under control, he looked up to what had attacked his raven. And instantly regretted it.
He had a good understanding of spiders after his time experimenting with Anaris and the others, but to call the thing before him a spider was an injustice. It was huge, bigger than him, with long black hair and pincers that emitted the most unsettling clicking Harry had ever seemed to stand still as the two eyed each other up before another spider dropped beside Harry and he realized that this was not the time to fantasize. It was time to run.
Making a break for it as fast as he could, Harry shot any spell he could think of over his shoulder, knowing they would mostly have no effect on the massive beasts, but what else could he do. He did have an advantage of knowing the fastest routes out of the Forest, however, as this wasn't the first time he had been chased out by some monster. He was also quite good at commanding his spiders to carry him up trees to escape the reach of many of the native creatures. Not that it would help him this time, though.
Harry saw the tree line in the distance, and but on an extra burst of speed, his muscles crying out in pain. But no matter how hard it was, he wouldn't let himself be killed. Not yet, not so soon. He had so much more to do, so much further to get. He hadn't achieved his goal yet. And one day, he promised himself, he would become so strong that not even death could keep him from his goals.
Bursting out from the Forbidden Forest, Harry turned to watch as the giant spiders slinked back into whatever hellhole they spawned from. After making sure that he was safe, he started walking back to the castle, maybe he'd even make it back in time for lessons.
Not that he really cared. The only thought running through his head at the time was how much he wanted one of those spiders for himself.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
Exams had arrived. The school was going crazy, and all the while Harry leaned back and smiled. Everything was going according to his plans. Soon he would be out from under the old man's thumb, and there was nothing he could do about it. And just to add insult to injury, Harry was going to steal Flamel's treasure right from under Dumbledore's nose. He didn't even care if it was useful, he just wanted to cause more trouble for the old man so that he would have less time to look for Harry.
He couldn't wait.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
It was the night after the last exam, and it seemed other people had the same idea as him.
He was hidden in the common room under the cloak, waiting for everyone to go to bed before executing the first part of his plan when two people came down the staircases. It was Ron and Hermione. They both looked around for people, and when they had determined that there was no one else around, Harry almost snorted, they began to converse.
"If Snape is going to do it, he's going to do it tonight. I managed to find out from McGonagall that Dumbledore had gone to the Ministry."
Huh, that was actually a useful bit of knowledge. The old man really would be powerless to stop him. Harry silently thanked Hermione.
"It'll be up to us to stop him. Did you learn the Disillusionment charm you mentioned earlier."
Disillusionment? That was some high level magic. Harry had considered learning it himself, but he never let go of the cloak, and he could have his spiders put it on him in seconds, so there was no real point.
"Yeah, let me just cast it and we can go."
"Good. Who knows what Snape will do with the Stone."
Stone? That sounded interesting. Harry assumed it was Flamel's treasure, and that would help him. Magical stones usually weren't too large.
"What are you doing?"
A third voice. A third person whom even Harry had not noticed. He cursed his own arrogance. Thankfully it was just Neville and not an upper classman. Harry was sure Ron and Hermione could take Neville, and he in turn could take them.
As if to prove his point, the three of them had a whispered argument before Hermione cast a spell on Neville, locking all his limbs together and dropping him to the ground. She began to cry and apologize, while Ron tried to pull her away, before they too dropped to the ground.
Feeling like doing a bit of gloating, Harry took of the cloak as three pairs of eyes turned to look at him in horror, "Don't worry children. Leave the Stone to me. I'll take very good care of it."
Laughing at the way Hermione and Ron's eyes widened while Neville's just grew more confused, Harry put the cloak back on and walked out of the room. He didn't cross anyone on his way to the third-floor corridor, but it was clear that someone had been there before him as the door was ajar.
Taking a peek in, he saw a harp lying by a giant paw. A giant paw of a truly massive Cerberus. Harry smiled, this was too easy. Taking a few casual steps into the room, he stopped when the Cerberus growled at him.
"Guardian of the Underworld, step aside for a Master of Death. Your domain is mine, dog."
The Cerberus stopped growling and lowered its heads to get a better look at him. After a few seconds, it moved closer and took sniff. Harry forced himself to stay still, maintaining his image of cool confidence. A more seconds, and the Cerberus backed off, moving out of Harry's way.
Too easy.
Lifting up the trapdoor, Harry took a look within and saw... nothing, it was much too dark. Disappointing, but not unexpected. Sparing a glance at the still Cerberus, he shrugged before dropping down.
Cold, damp air rushed past him, and for just a second he was sure he was going to die and then -
FLUMP. A muffled thump heralded his landing on something soft and squishy. He still couldn't see anything, so he raised his wand up to cast a Wand-Lighting charm. Well, tried to raise his wand. His whole arm was wrapped in a strange vine. It seemed the next obstacle was Devil's Snare.
As he indiscriminately cast incendio in every direction he could reach, Harry wondered how the one before him had escaped the deadly plant without completely destroying it as he was doing. Not that it really mattered. Brushing off a bit of ash from his shoulder, Harry stepped into the next room.
It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the new chamber, but once he was no longer blinded, Harry looked around. It was large, with a high ceiling and a heavy, wooden door all the way on the other end. Small birds flew around the room. They didn't seem to even notice him.
He made his way over to the door and tried it, just to make sure he wouldn't waste his time trying to open an unlocked door. It didn't budge. With a sigh, Harry turned his attention back to the birds. Well, they couldn't be birds, there was no food or water for them here, and the ground was not completely covered in poop. Taking a closer look, he noticed that they weren't even animals, just keys with wings.
Harry just shook his head at the simplicity of these so called obstacles. As he laughed to himself, a line of spiders crawled out of each of his pants legs and then began to climb the walls. He settled down to wait as his spiders covered the whole room with webs, slowly capturing every single key. It took a while, yes, but there was no way he was getting on one of the rickety brooms he noticed in the corner.
Once a sizable majority of the keys were tangled in the webs, he called back his spiders and began his inspection. After ruling out several keys as too large or small, he found one that had ruffled feathers, as if it had been held. He ripped it out of the web, uncaring if he damaged it, and shoved it in the keyhole. It fit perfectly. He gave it a turn, and sure enough, there was the distinct sound of a lock opening.
He let go of the key and grabbed the handle, pulling the door open. It was dark on the other side, so Harry cast a quick Wand-Lighting charm and stepped through. It was quickly proven unnecessary as the chamber was suddenly flooded with light.
The room was a chess board. A giant chess board. The pieces opposite him had the distinct look of ivory, while those on his side seemed to be made of a dark obsidian. Clearly he was expected to play.
Yeah, not going to happen.
Harry knew he was not particularly good at chess, and he knew that the person ahead of him could have easily jinxed the set to make it impossible for him to win. But he doubted the pieces would just let him walk across the board without winning.
Giving a sigh, Harry walked towards the nearest wall and put his hands on it. As spiders started to pile out of his sleeves, they bunched together and stuck his hands to the wall. Once he felt the connection was firm, he lifted his legs and pushed his feet against the wall aswell so the spiders could to the same thing. Then he began to climb the wall.
It wasn't a perfect system, and it wasn't very fast, but after a multitude of rituals, Harry found that with great enough numbers his spiders were able to support his weight. He made his way up the wall and the across the ceiling before climbing down on the other side and giving a quick head shake at the still chess pieces.
Another chamber down and he hadn't needed to exert himself yet.
Giving the door a good yank, he quickly came to regret his impatience as a disgusting smell filled his nostrils, causing him to hold his arm up over his nose.
It was a troll. A truly massive one. Something that would have actually provided Harry with a challenge had it not been already dead. He was just about to open the door to the next room when he realized that he was missing a huge opportunity. But then again, did he really want this smell following him?
The fact that there might be more dangerous things ahead made up his mind, and Harry turned back to the troll. While it was true that he was not yet strong enough to truly bring it back its soul so that it almost had autonomy, he would be able to just animate the body for a short period of time. It wouldn't be as coordinated as it would be if he conquered its soul, but it would do until he managed to get the Stone and escape. It's not like he would be able to bring a troll with him anyways.
After a short ritual and headache break during which he learned to control the trolls body, it was surprisingly easy, he moved on to the next chamber.
The second he and the troll stepped through the doorway, purple fire sprang up behind him blocking the way back, while black flames burst before the doorway across from him, blocking the way ahead. To the side was a table with seven bottles and a piece of parchment. It seemed this obstacle was a riddle.
Harry read the parchment once and snorted. Were he anyone else, he would surely be stuck he for quite a while as he tried to figure out the answer. However, he had countless expendable minions who required far less of a potion in their system for it to take effect than a human.
He released seven spiders from his sleeves and had each one drink a drop from one of the bottles. Then he sent then one by one through the black flames and watched as they burnt to a crisp. Only one made it across, the one that had drank from the smallest bottle.
Harry looked inside. There was barely enough for one sip. No one would both he and his troll be able to drink from it. Oh well, he would just have to hope that the troll's magical resistant skin would keep it in usable condition. He tipped it back into his mouth and felt as if ice was spreading through his body. Certain that he had picked the right bottle, he put it back on the table and walked through the black flames.
He felt the spider climb up his leg as he watched the troll go through the flames. Its skin was blackened and flakes fell off occasionally, but he could still control it, no matter how worse for wear it was. He grasped the handle of the door, growing tired of all these obstacles and wishing for an end.
It seemed his wish was met, as he instantly new the next chamber was different.
For one, there was no accursed door across from him. There was also a person there, unlike the previous rooms. But what really gave it away was the Mirror. He had found it again.
"Harry Potter."
Harry turned his attention back to the person. It was Professor Quirrell. He then realised that he didn't really care, and returned to staring into the mirror. Quirrell's eyebrow twitched. Harry ignored him. Quirrell began to shake with rage. Harry stepped closer to the mirror. Quirrell snapped his fingers and ropes sprang out of thin air to wrap around Harry. Harry stepped to the side.
"Dammit, Potter, what is wrong with you? I can't exactly have my moment of evil gloating if you ignore me!"
Harry's response was to snap his fingers. The ground shook, and Quirrell looked behind the boy. It was the troll he had killed. Except it was most assuredly not dead. It gave a loud roar and charge towards him. Quirrell whipped out his wand and started firing curse after curse at the beast, but while they blew chunks of flesh off the troll, they did not impede it. One curse even took it's head off, but the body kept charging him. Finally, he vanished its torso, and the limbs all fell to the floor, unsupported.
"Bloody hell! Potter, what have you done?"
Harry finally turned to look at Quirrell once more, clearly unimpressed, "I brought back the troll you killed, obviously. And you know what, I really don't care about what you have to say. Especially because it won't be anything coherent soon."
Almost as soon as Harry stopped speaking, Quirrell felt a prick on his leg. Seeing that Harry was again looking at the Mirror, Quirrell lifted up the hem of his robe and saw a spider on his leg. It was a False-Widow spider, but Quirrell wasn't worried. Hosting his master's soul gave him an immunity of most natural venoms and poisons.
"That's it? Your grand plan to defeat me is a spider? Pah, pathetic!" Quirrell swept the spider off his leg and turned his wand on Harry, "If only you knew the truth. You'd be cowering in fear, not expecting a spider to defeat me!"
Harry did not even register that he had continued to talk, completely engrossed in the mirror. It made Quirrell so mad, he felt as if his blood was boiling. Wait, his blood actually felt like it was boiling. Quirrell collapsed to the floor as his muscles convulsed. He writhed in pain, both from his body and his master trying to take control.
"You're in the first stage of Anaris' poison right now," Harry spoke, still not looking at Quirrell. "You start to lose control of your muscles. Next you'll start to losing feeling in your extremities. Then you'll feel like your heart has frozen. Finally, your brain will tear itself apart sending signals that will never be received more and more frequently. Well, that's what the Book said would happen, anyways. I don't actually know."
Quirrell whimpered pitifully, before turning over and coughing up some blood. He could feel his master's frantic attempt to wrestle away control, but it did not matter how much he struggled, Quirrell's body was too weak to do anything, let alone obey the commands of a foreign entity.
Harry stood by passively as Quirrell keeled over, and a dark cloud oozed out of his back. It seemed to stare at Harry for a few seconds, and he felt a shiver run down his spine at the sheer malevolence of it, before it flew off through the ceiling.
Now that there were no more distractions, Harry pulled the Stone out of his pocket. His ancestor had told him what it was, and excited did not even begin to describe how he felt. It would take a lot of trial and error, but Harry was sure that he would find a way to incorporate the Elixir of Life into a ritual to make his zombies tougher. That would definitely be something he'd need to work out before killing Hedwig. She deserved to be the best for her loyalty.
Shaking his head to focus his attention back to the present, he realized he'd have to get going if he wanted to leave while it was still night. He had probably wasted a couple hours already. Putting the Stone back in his pocket and whispering a quick, "See you soon," to his family, Harry hurried out of the chamber and back to the castle proper.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
Harry ran through the Forbidden Forest towards the cave he knew contained Hagrid's dragon, shrunken trunk in his pocket and Hedwig circling above. It had gotten too big for his hut a while ago, so he had moved it to the Forest. Harry had luckily been experimenting at the time, and so was able to follow him and note the route.
As he approached the cave, Harry released his most venomous spiders to take care of the dragon. He knew there was no way that he would be able to kill a dragon, even a whelpling. The spiders, however, would be able to penetrate the scales on the dragon's underside, as those should still be pretty soft.
Harry waited outside the cave until his spiders returned, and then hurried in to examine his ticket away from the old man. It was black as night, and bigger than a horse, but it was clearly dead. Letting out a sigh of relief, Harry got to work.
He had prepared for this, bringing two jars of blood, a jar of ash, and seven candles. Carefully drawing a seven-pointed star around the dragon using the blood, Harry placed a candle at each point and lit them. He then sprinkled the ash around the dragon within the star.
Dragons are creatures of fire, hence the candles and ash. The blood, as always, was to signify the bond of life, and be a conduit for the spirit to re-enter the body. He was hoping that it would be enough, as he had practiced with reptiles and birds, and the dragon was only a whelpling.
Deciding it was a bigger risk to stay than to attempt resurrecting the dragon, Harry began to chant.
"Soul from the Great Beyond, hear my call and obey! Your path forward is a loop backward! Return to light! Renounce darkness! Come into my arms! I breathe life back into you!"
Harry could feel the drain on his magic, the resistance from the dragon's soul, the veil between worlds itself fighting his command. But he let none of this deter him. He had felt it all countless times before. Even the feel of the dragon's soul wasn't too different to all the lizards he had experimented with. He knew exactly how how pull on it to effectively counter it's resistance.
The world gave a great, shuddering sigh and the dragon's eye-lids opened, revealing the yellow orbs beneath. Orbs that once shone with curiosity and life, but now looked only like dull glass. Harry saw it as an improvement. Less likely to bite of someone's arm just to see what it would taste like now.
He commanded the dragon to rise and follow him out of the cave, and it did. He could barely contain his whoop of celebration. Just as Anaris was the milestone of his first success, this dragon was the milestone of him achieving freedom. He was now that much closer to bringing his family back.
- Desire fo Rirrom eht dna Rettop Yrrah -
Harry was on the back of the dragon, watching the Scottish highlands roll by from high above while running his hand down the back of his beautiful owl. He was trying to plan his next move. Money was obviously the first thing on the list, but that meant a trip to Diagon Alley, the first place anyone would look to find him. No, he'd need to get money from a different source than Gringotts.
But he didn't just want to steal from random muggles, that would be drawing too much attention to himself. But then again, he did know one family that owed him quite a bit. And he had the perfect way for them to pay their debts.
From the back of his zombie dragon, Harry's lips spread into an evil grin.
Life sure was funny in the way it worked. Who would have guessed that the first place Harry Potter would go to after finally getting his freedom was Little Whinging, Surrey?
AN: Whew, that was the longest thing I've probably ever written. Really took a lot out of me. Anyways, review if you really liked it, or really hated it. I don't care if what you have to say is negative or positive, I want to hear it. I want to know if I should attempt long things like this again, or just stick with shorter chapters at greater frequency. Also, if you notice any mistakes, I probably didn't catch them all. I really need to get a beta-reader, huh?