Chapter 2: Power He Knows Not

Somehow, Harry's legs by moving on autopilot led him to the seventh floor, where he stopped just near a strange painting depicting a man trying to teach trolls how to dance. Had Harry been in a slightly more sober state of mind, he would have giggled at the wizard's sheer stupidity, and, maybe, admire his stubbornness a tiny bit. But, as it was, he didn't even notice the painting, instead choosing to pace in front of the wall directly opposite, al the while ranting and raving at all the unfairness.

"How could he? He knew that I would have to die all along and still pretended that he cares! Well, if he did, he wouldn't have given me to Dursleys! If he thinks I will simply stand by and wait for my death, he has another thing coming! I need to become stronger, stronger than Dumbledore and Voldemort, so that my life would never be dictated by some decrepit old farts!"

And, as he passionately ranted and shouted obscenities at the wall, it suddenly rippled, silencing him and making Harry open his mouth in wonder. Out from a blank wall, foot by foot, a heavy ornate wooden door appeared. It was so high and wide, that to Harry it looked like it could swallow several mountain trolls whole and still have some space left. One might think that after four years of studying at one of the most prestigious magical schools, he would have grown used to these feats, but the world around him always found some way to astound and amaze him in a way he never thought possible. Thus, then and there Harry made a promise to himself that he would live only to see everything wonderful the magical world had to offer him.

Pushing the door, he cautiously entered into the circular chamber that lied behind the door. Gazing at the decorations around in wonder, he didn't notice how the door behind him closed with an inaudible thump, dissolving back into the wall it came from.

The chamber was wide and dimly lit, enough to read or practice some spells, but not too bright. He found he liked that kind of lighting. On the sides he could see rows upon rows of semicircular shelves that held literally hundreds of books. There were so many, but he did not recognize any of the titles. Seriously, "A Guide to Aura and Dust", "Dust for Dummies", "The History of Vale and Beacon"? What were those?

Harry cracked open the first book, "A Guide to Aura and Dust". He wasn't disappointed. On the first page he saw a detailed picture of a person with some kind of a bubble drawn around him. The man was holding a sword that looked… outlandish, in Harry's perspective. It was beautiful, sure, but it was so much different from the Sword of Gryffindor, that Harry couldn't help but wonder just what caused this sword to bend so much. Later on, he found out it was called a "katana", and that it actually was a very formidable weapon despite its deceptive appearance.

He continued on reading, and several pages later he stumbled onto a description of Aura that the author spoke so much about.

"The Aura is a manifestation of one's very soul. It has been our ultimate defence in the unending battle of humans and Faunus alike against the Creatures of Grimm that prowl through the unexplored lands of Remnant. Aura of a person usually acts as a barrier between the body and anything intent on harming its wielder, though the exact mechanism of this is still unknown. Many claim that our Auras, and thus souls, are omniscient and intelligent, allowing them to discern the intent and tell the difference between a Deathstalker's stinger and a nurse's needle. On the other hand, there is Semblance – a special ability directly related to its wielder. There are several cases of similar or even identical Semblances, such as the famous Schnee Semblance – creation of glyphs that are able to manipulate reality. It is generally accepted that Semblances are based on the person's qualities, such as bravery, intelligence or cunning, as well as his or her hobbies, interests etc.

There are three known ways to manifest one's Aura. The most modern and safest method is for another wielder of Aura to "unlock it" for you. The process usually involves a short chant and a pulse of the donor's Aura that literally washes away the natural restraints that the soul has.

If, for any reason, there is no person willing or available, you can force your soul through the restraints on your own, but there is a slight chance of overexerting yourself and falling into a coma that can last for days if not weeks. However, this method also slightly enhances the natural Aura pool the person has due to the sheer power necessary to break through the restraints.

The last and possibly the most dangerous method involves putting yourself into mortal peril. Sometimes, on the brink of death, a person can "awaken", literally exploding his or her Aura outwards and healing the injuries that were inflicted previously. It is important to note that this method can fail on the first or even on the second try, but the Aura manifested this way is known to be the strongest and more dense compared to other two methods.

Note: There are no known records of people failing to awaken their Aura on the third or fourth try simply because any that dared to try this method thrice did not survive the experience. We, the authors of this manual, strongly discourage you from attempting the third method, and even then it should be done under heavy medical supervision in case anything goes wrong.

Harry huffed, smiling to himself. He had already been in life-or-death situations thrice, and it seemed fate wasn't intent on making his life easier. Case in point, he was chosen today as a fourth champion in a Triwizard Tournament, when he was still underage and inexperienced. But that still wasn't enough to stop him, and he was still alive.

He continued to read, soaking up all the information he could on Aura: from its usage in combat to how every person had their own colour of Aura, corresponding with their own character and several other factors. He also read up on Dust, even though he had absolutely no idea how or where to find some. He certainly never heard of it in all of the time he lived in the Wizarding World, and that had put a damper on his enthusiasm.

Many hours later, when he was reasonably certain it was already late in the morning outside, he put the book away, rubbing his red eyes and yawning fiercely. Despite his overwhelming urge to just fall down into his bed and sleep until the end of the world, Harry thought it was worth it – he was certain he would have never found such valuable information in the library, Restricted Section or not.

He has been returning to the Room many times in the following week, literally absorbing every single bit of theory about Aura and Dust he could find, and it was a lot. In fact, he hadn't read as much books as he did over the week than in his whole life! It was surreal, and he wouldn't have coped with the strain, had he any less resolve to stay alive and fight for his life. The realisation of his own weakness and inability to stand up to real threats, like Voldemort, gave him his second, third and fourth breaths.

Of course, his new disposition didn't do any favours with his friends, especially Ron, who was all too happy to alienate Harry from his company, making sure to insult him any time they met. Hermione, on the other hand, was looking very worried for Harry's well-being, always trying to offer her advice or help him in any way. Not to say he did not appreciate it, but he felt it was his own burden to carry, without the need to involve his friends in it. And, besides, he wasn't sure if he could trust Hermione with the knowledge of Aura – she, being herself, could either declare it Dark magic (an understandable point of view, as it involved messing with your own soul) or unconsciously try to hoard all the knowledge to herself, leaving Harry with mere scraps of what he could obtain otherwise.

When the week finally was over, Harry headed to the Room after curfew to finally begin his attempts to unlock his Aura. As the book stated, he had nobody else to unlock it for him, so down went the first way. And while the second route, i.e. forcing his soul out over the weeks, was reasonably safer than putting himself into mortal peril, he had no luxury of time – the First Task was to begin on the 24th, literally less than three weeks away, and he still had no clue on what would it entail. His infrequent library visits netted him only that the task always involved a dangerous magical beast, ranging from Manticores to Chimaeras and Nundus. Both this fact and the death tolls of the previous tournaments only solidified the fact that he needed to become stronger.

But, before he went to the Room, he first did a small detour, grabbing his broom and trusty cloak, going down into the Chamber of Secrets. Sliding down the greasy pipe full of muck and Merlin knew what else was just as unpleasant as it was the first time, if not even more. Accompanied by the constant crunching of rodent bones underneath his boots, he headed for the large metal door with the snakes, pushing his way past the landslide. Giving them the standard password, he proceeded past into the dark Chamber, lighting the torches as he went past.

Everything was the same as he remembered it to be – the basilisk was lying down on the chamber stone floor, gazing at him with its empty black eye sockets, almost as if the ancient creature was berating or mocking him even in death. There was no book, and the basilisk was missing one of its front fangs, leaving a hollow space where it used to be. Using an underpowered Diffindo, Harry cut open the snake's gum opposite the missing fang, revealing the base of another, pristine snake tooth. Harry was reasonably sure this one was still full of venom, so he gently levitated it, rocking the white curved fang in its socket, rotating and twisting it until, with an audible wet sound, it separated from the jaw and hung there in the air, deceptively harmless and unassuming. Not trusting the venom inside to not dissolve his clothes or anything he may have used to wrap the damned thing in, he continued to levitate the tooth in front of himself, while flying out of the pipe. He did not really want to be caught by a prefect or a professor wandering the halls at night with a basilisk fang flying in front of himself, so he used the cloak to hide from prying eyes, all the while zooming through the halls as fast as he could.

He reached the Room in no time at all, and wasn't even noticed by a pair of Ravenclaw prefects that patrolled one of the corridors leading to the seventh floor. He did create quite a gust of wind when flying past, however, causing the girl's robes to fly upwards and eliciting an undignified shriek from her. Harry was reasonably sure he had heard her slap the boy across the face, but he wouldn't bet his money on that.

The Room greeted him with the same layout he has gotten used to in his frequent visits here – the same round room with bookshelves, lanterns and even a small couch where he napped from time to time if he didn't really want to return to his common room. But this time, as if sensing his intentions, in the very centre there was a comfortable bed he could lie down on while unlocking his Aura for the first time. The fang was slowly floating beside the bed, and this time Harry did not cast the Levitation charm on it. Chalking it up to the Room's many quirks, he disrobed down to his undergarments and got into the bed, fidgeting slightly due to the cold and a bit of fear. However, there was no uncertainty – he was absolutely determined to unlock his Aura and live far longer than Dumbledore had intended him to.

As soon as he was all ready, he waved his wand and the tooth moved to hang directly over Harry's heart, ready to fall down and plunge into his unprotected ribcage. He inhaled deeply, his green eyes shining with that inner fire one can only find in the souls of the people who were so determined even Fate had no reign over them.

"Finite Incantatem!"

And the deadly fang fell down, greedily spearing Harry's chest all the way to his heart.

Then… It was all agony.