Valzain: Alright, I have rewritten this entire chapter. It's longer, more detailed, and just all around better.

You may be wondering why I created another story instead of editing the old one… Simply put, it sucked. I went back and read over it, then compared that with what I had wanted. It was so far off that it almost struck me as a whole different story. I decided to leave it up, just in case people have some sort of… weird fascination with it.

Also, no matter how much my awesomeness continues to expand, I don't own Harry Potter.

Scarlet Moon CHAPTER 1

Magic versus Magick

Adán Inez

Overview: Magic refers to only one branch of Magick. The distinction tends to be forgotten ever since Light magic has become dominant over Dark. These days, people only openly learn about one magic; Light magic.

Thousands of years ago, even before Hogwarts was founded, there was a battle fought that changed the way all Magick was viewed. This battle had included no armies; just two wizards of old. But they were not just fighting for themselves. They were representatives for their chosen deities; one was a warrior for the God of the Sun, and the other came at the heed of the Goddess of the Moon.

Each fought spectacularly, but only one could win. The man that had fought for the Moon Goddess died. And, thus, the Sun God won. Light magic became dominant, and the Dark was viewed as the embarrassing side of Magick. Embarrassment slowly mutated into taboo.

These days, the divide between the Magicks has widened; the hate delving even deeper. Just because the duel between the two representatives ended, does not mean the war had ended; several Dark Lords have risen since that fateful day, and each have fallen. However, studies of each year's magical census has provided shocking revelations; The Dark is strengthening. Curious, as this could only mean that the Lunar Goddess has chosen another representative.

A Closer Look at the Dark

The Goddess of the Moon mourns three times every one thousand years, for the one who had fought for her had been her Soul Mate. As such, the Moon cries scarlet; it cries when its Goddess cries and the tears are of scarlet in representation of the blood that was spilt. Aaron was the name of the Goddess' lover.

The Scarlet Moon happens when the Goddess mourns. The power struggle between the Gods occurred on the grounds that would one day be built over by the Four Founders. Because of this, the Scarlet Moon can only be seen on Hogwarts' grounds.

Nights when the Scarlet Moon is in the darkened sky are sacred. The Moon will boast the power of Dark magic and rituals. One of the most famous rituals, but the least used, is the Ritual of the Dea Luna.

The Ritual of the Dea Luna is significantly extreme, as it could extract you from one place, to transport you somewhere completely different. It is life threatening when done improperly, but can find a person's Soul Mate out of all the Alternate Universes, different times, and realities. The Moon Goddess herself had found her own Soul Mate with the use of this ritual; Aaron had been The goddess' Soul Mate

When done properly, this ritual will not only locate your Soul Mate, but also take you to the general area of which that particular person is.

The Four Founders had chosen these grounds just for the purpose of enhanced Magicks for those that they had wished to teach…

Harry stopped reading and looked up, through the fringe of his hair and over his glasses, at the two men who had insisted on him reading a passage in Hogwarts, A History.

"You want me to give her up…" The young man started dangerously, but the two, much older, men were unaffected by this.

"Harry… Ginny is dead and yes, you could have prevented her death" "Now Aberforth…" the painting started, but Aberforth continued to talk over him. "But you didn't, and you now you can't. You have moped around for almost six years, and allow me to tell you that you're not only hurting yourself when you cut yourself off from the world. Many died during the final battle against Voldemort, but many survived! They look at you as their hero, the one who threw away everything to save them. But it hurts to see you like this; as if you would prefer to be dead! Neville tries to get you to talk to him for more than five minutes, but he might as well be a stranger to you now. And I think that while it is great that you have found sanctuary in books and learning new magic, it does not solve any of your problems! You must learn how to balance your life, or you will never really live, and that ritual will help you with this." The old man finished and picked up a gaudy gold goblet, which was filled generously with an amber liquid, and took a sip while the painting frowned at him disapprovingly.

Harry stared down at his hands, eyes wide in both shame and shock. "I am sorry… I didn't… know, that I have caused you and others unwarranted - any grief." The man stated, still staring at his hands.

The painting sighed morosely and replied "I apologize for my brother's blatant disregard toward your feelings, Harry, as it was uncalled for… I must confess, however, that he is right." He finished off delicately; as if he was dealing with a ticking bomb.

Harry looked up at the two, his face now an emotionless mask, and said "I understand."

And then Harry suddenly gave a small smile and said "And this ritual… It seems difficult, how long do I have?"

The painting smiled in relief, and Aberforth smirked "See Dumbledore? Sometimes being all pink and fuzzy doesn't help."

"Well Harry," Dumbledore started while ignoring his brother "It is difficult, but it shouldn't be impossible, and I do believe that you will appreciate the challenge…?" He asked, clear blue eyes glancing at the young man over a pair of glasses.

Harry grinned with excitement, emerald eyes shinning, and nodded "Of course! And I have been studying ancient runes lately so I do believe I will be able to accomplish it. And I have completed many rituals, although they were mostly for enchantments and warding. Not to mention that I should be able to handle myself, even if I end up somewhere dangerous, since I have refined many other skills." He stated happily; finally having a use for all the work he has done in the past six years.

"Good! Because your going to need those 'refined skills' to be able to perform the ritual soon." Aberforth retorted; smirk still evident on his time touched features.

Harry narrowed his eyes "How exactly soon is 'soon'? Because, frankly… I haven't even touched healing, yet. And I would… rather be able to reattach my leg if it's… you know… suddenly ripped off." he asked, slightly nervous.

"Well, since it's just about impossible to accurately predi-" Dumbledore was, once again drowned out by Aberforth.

"What do you mean 'haven't even touched healing'? How could you not? You had six years!" Aberforth slammed his goblet down on the desk.

Harry laughed nervously, toying with the red band holding his ponytail. "Well… you see… ahhhh….heh… I'm not very good with healing spells, so… well, I didn't… You know, learn."

Aberforth practically began to foam at the mouth, as Dumbledore closed his eyes and shook his head. Then, Dumbledore looked up and continued "It's impossible to know when the Scarlet Moon will occur, we can only tell you that it will need to be done on a Wednesday of this month." Dumbledore said unabashedly.

Harry was confused "Why a Wednesday? And why didn't you tell me this before now?" Becoming angrier by the end of his sentence.

Dumbledore smiled benignly "Wednesday's Latin title means 'Day of the Moon' for a reason, Harry."

Aberforth snorted. "And if you value having limbs attached to your sorry ass, you'll study healing as you are preparing for the ritual!" Thrusting something out at Harry.

"Alright… I'll do it, no need to have a seizure." Harry said, while taking the worn book that Aberforth handed him, and walked out of the circular office with both a flourish and a smirk.

The days afterwards found Harry pouring over the book, memorizing it all; down to the very letters. In his attempt to be ready for the ritual; he had no time for learning the theory of healing. So he had grabbed a book suggested to him by both Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. And, as the first Wednesday of December came around, he was ready and waiting out in the snow for the Scarlet Moon.

However, he was disappointed as the moon remained as it ever was; still luminous, but also only the uniform white as any other night.

So he waited another week, keeping the ritual in mind as he tried to understand how to change the flow of his magic to accommodate healing; as the theory behind healing is that it is both Light and Dark magic. This concept left Harry completely confounded, but he preferred to believe that he was progressing; he hasn't needed anyone for years, and while he was excited about finding his Soul Mate, he still wasn't entirely ready to give that up.

The anticipation grew as the next Wednesday came about. This time it was not snowing as he stood outside looking up at the moon, wistfully. But it wasn't there. Finally, he visited Madam Pomfrey and Luna in the Medical Wing. Between the medical professional and her assistant, he was able to start mastering healing.

By now Harry was too frustrated to practice something as neutral as healing. He was so ready to be able to meet someone that was born just for him… 'Or maybe it's the other way around?' He pondered.

Regardless, Harry was impatient for the Scarlet Moon to appear.

But he did not have to wait much longer; as the third Wednesday rolled around he found himself staring in awe at the beauty of the Scarlet Moon.

'If I died… would someone miss me like this?' He thought, feeling the sorrow settle around him.

But he could not waste anymore time, so he started laying out candles in a symmetrical circle, mirroring the moon's shape itself.

He began to chant out the rites while using his wand to carefully carve into the ground the runes for 'love' 'space' 'time' 'wish' 'stars' and 'moon', then each ,when completed, were jabbed with his wand; making a ghostly shadow rise up from them into the air. The ancient symbols stayed there, suspended in the air along the barrier created by the candles.

Cutting himself on the palm of each of his hands he finished off the rites, and as the last syllable passed his lips the candles suddenly lit by them selves.

His last coherent thought as he found his vision blotching up was how the candles' flames matched the deep scarlet of the moon itself.