She was old, so old that she had been there at the beginning and been one of the seven. That a rhyme of five still remained was something she often thought about:
Five Great Charters knit the land. Together linked, hand in hand. One in the people who wear the Crown. Two in the folk who keep the Dead down. Three and Five became stone and mortar. Four sees all in frozen water.
To think that the second was her legacy, that the Abhorsens were her link to today's world. She was Astarael, the weeper and she would always be the most feared apart from the ninth bright shiner, Orannis. It was a shame that of the nine only herself, Kibeth, Yrael and he were all that remained of the original nine. She was far weaker than she'd ever been before and she stayed within the cave system underneath Abhorsen's house, a place that was rather lonesome if she was honest with herself.
Weeper, that is what she was called and death was her trade. Of the seven necromantic bells, hers was the least used by both necromancers and Abhorsens. It was a wonder that any of her power still remained at all with how little chance she had to siphon some off to maintain herself.
A splash interrupted her musings and she looked up to see a wet dog walking towards her with a bundle in its mouth. Curious, it was odd that anyone would seek her out and another of the nine no less. She stepped forwards to see what the 'disreputable dog' had with her and was shocked to see a baby amongst the bundle.
"Found him on the border between life and death, he seems to have an affinity with it." The mutt, Kibeth, told her. "Would have left him alone but a newly dead woman pleaded with me to, and I quote, 'find a suitable parent for him, somewhere far away where he can grow up without the weight he will bear'. He's got a strong connection with death and there are... reasons that prevent me bringing this directly to the Abhorsen. You are the only one that I can think off, kid's no good being raised by a bitch like me and Yrael is less than responsible."
Astarael, the weeper, the bell of death, looked at the talking dog with a great deal of shock. "You would trust a living being to one such as I? One who sings the living into death and compels the dead further into it?" She asked and if a dog could look sheepish this one did now.
"Yeah, I don't exactly know many people anyways and those I do aren't ones I can really contact. I made sure that several rather useful books will be heading this way so he'll be able to learn to look after himself, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a set of bells down here too." Astarael nodded her head distractedly, there was in fact a set of bells down here and she was rather knowledgable about both free magic and charter herself.
"So, will you do it?" The dog asked and Astarael thought about it for a moment, this was something completely new to her. She had poured power into a human bloodline before but she had never raised a child herself.
"I will," She told the dog, "So long as you too help with the raising of the child. I have never had much human contact and you are forever wandering amongst them so there will be things that I know not." The dogs ears perked up before the mutt started laughing.
"Look at us, two beings of old times, the walker and the weeper talking about raising a human child." Kibeth shook her head. "Very well, it will certainly be interesting." and so it was that Harry Potter was to be raised by two of the nine most powerful beings in a world, a world where the dead didn't necessarily remain so.
"Try again Harry." Said six year old glared at the dog that was saying this to him. The dog in question had returned to where the boy had come from in order to find out more about him and had found out his name along with a few other things. That the damn dog had accidentally traversed worlds went unquestioned but the fact that he had magic was a curiosity to both Kibeth and Harry's surrogate mother, Astarael. They had wondered whether Harry would be capable of charter magic and had baptised him soon after he'd been taken in. The fact that there were two symbols on his brow rather than one was something that many in the Old Kingdom would be wary of, one was clearly a pure charter mark but the other was headache inducing to look at, it was a mark of free magic. The fact that when they'd baptised him, the lightning bolt scar he had screamed and faded was cause for concern but didn't seem to have affected him unduly.
The only one in the kingdom who was supposed to be allowed to wield free magic was the Abhorsen, currently a woman named Sabriel who had an apprentice named Lirael. He had heard a lot about the latter of the two from the dog and he was rather curious about her, he wanted to talk to her and ask so many questions but the only two people he knew were the two who looked after him.
Harry had started learning to wield a blade but his build lent itself more to archery than swordsmanship and he took to the former with far greater vigour. He was now trying to create arrows using nothing but charter marks so he would never run out as long as he wasn't too tired. Harry preferred free magic to charter, it felt too constrictive, but he wouldn't deny that charter magic always did what it was supposed to whereas free magic was more wild and harder to manage.
"I know, I know!" He said to the dog though it only seemed to get amusement out of Harry's frustration. Harry heard a rustling noise behind him and turned around to see his mother figure in front of him holding some kind of long leather strap in one hand with seven pockets in it and a book in the other.
"Mom!" He cried and ran to hug her. "Aunt Kibeth is being mean and making me do boring things again!" He said and the dog in question huffed about 'cheeky brats' much to amusement of Astarael.
"What you got there?" Kibeth asked with a worried tone, she recognised what Astarael held but the idea of a six year old with necromantic bells wasn't exactly comforting.
"Bells and a book, the former was where I remembered to be but I could swear the book is growing legs and walking here when I'm not looking." She too wasn't exactly comfortable with what she held when it was in relation to her son, she'd admitted he was when Harry had called her mommy for the first time.
"What kind of book?" Harry asked.
"The book of the dead." Astarael told him. "It is a book that is all about the dead, greater and lesser, as well as the precincts of death. It teaches one how to wield the seven bells, the first seven of the nine bright shiners that I told you about, but it is a very special book even beyond that."
Kibeth took over. "The book is almost sentient itself, whenever it is needed then it will inevitably appear. I know as I have seen it happen myself and no matter what you do to try and escape it it will follow you wherever you go. It is best to tackle it head on rather than be consumed in fear of it."
Harry took the book from Astarael's reluctant grasp and sat himself down on the cave floor. The book seemed to have been covered with human skin but Harry was an odd child, he hadn't met many people and as such his moral compass was based completely off the two people he knew. Astarael and Kibeth held their breath as Harry put the book in his lap and opened it, he began to read and was quickly lost in the written word.
Harry was a bookish child, an unusual thing to say when all he knew was the cave system and the wilderness just outside of it. Kibeth often managed to 'procure' texts from the Clayr's library, but she never explained how she did it and the books disappeared again whenever Harry was finished with them anyway.
Astarael and Kibeth settled in to wait for Harry to finish browsing the book, both wondering what it meant that Harry was able to open it. Only someone with an innate talent for free magic and necromancy could open it and only an unsullied charter mage could close it. This wasn't a problem for Harry as he obviously had talent, and a preference, for free magic which had actually kept itself separate from his charter magic somehow.
When Harry finished the book, he closed it with a snap and leaned backwards to think about all that he could remember from that confusing thing. He felt as if the book understood he was young and kept everything simple so his mind could make sense of it, the sentence at the back really stuck in his mind though: Does the walker choose the path or the path, the walker?
Harry really didn't like the sound of that, it made everything seem artificial and fake. It felt like that no matter what he did, things would always work out the same way. He hated the concept of destiny. He reached for the bells and ran his hand over the pouch that each was contained in.
Ranna, the sleeper and most forgiving of the bells. She lulled the listener into slumber.
Mosrael, the waker, a loud and raucous bell. With each the ring it would bring the dead closer to life while compelling the one ringing it closer to death.
Kibeth, the walker. At this Harry looked over to the dog, the last remaining fragment of the original Kibeth, the one the bell was named for. It could give freedom of movement to a target or it could bind them tighter than any physical chain ever could, it could also compel movement in a target.
Dyrim, the speaker. A rather musical bell that wasn't often used as it served no practical purpose. It could either grant speech to those without it or forever silence a wagging tongue.
Belgaer, the thinker. Another bell that wasn't used particularly often. Belgaer could restore thought and memory to a target or, in a careless hand, erase them for good.
Saraneth, the binder. This was a favourite of Abhorsens as they used it to compell the dead to obey them and walk back into death. It imposed the ringer's will upon the target.
Astarael, the weeper. Harry looked at the woman who had raised him since he was fifteen months old, the one who was also known as the sorrowful. Harry didn't see that, he saw it as more lonely than anything else. Astarael however did have a rather potent effect, it cast everyone who heard it deep into death whether in the hands of an expert or an incompetent.
Those were the seven bells named after seven of the nine bright shiners but there were two more names to mention, Yrael and Orannis. The former had walked a line between and until recently been bound to the Abhorsen line while the latter was called the destroyer, sealed behind seven wards, three metal, three wood and the seventh of bone. He had heard the story of the Destroyer's attempt at waking directly from Kibeth who had been there and shuddered at the thought of Orannis suceeding.
For the next five years, Harry studied both charter and free magic along side necromancy and what they could teach him of ordinary subjects, math, language and the like. This all came to a head with a letter, a letter telling him that he was going to a magic school. All three of them were confused, the concept of a school that taught magic rather than apprenticeships was an unusual one for the three of them.
Kibeth was dispatched to find out more and she returned with the most fantastic of tales, of magic that was capable of all kinds of things yet was all done with a stick and a few words. She even mentioned transforming into animals and back without bothering with all of the fuss that a charter skin involved, Harry had spent a year learning the form of a crow and had loved it.
Harry instantly agreed to go, this was a wonderful opportunity and his ambition was to help the Abhorsen so the more he knew now then the more useful he could be even if the Abhorsen didn't even know he existed yet, they were going to have Kibeth tell them when Harry got back from Diagon Alley with his shopping supplies.
Simply getting to Diagon Alley was an achievement as they had to travel through death to another world, goodness knows how the letter got to him in the first place, and they only had Kibeth's decade old memories to go off. It was a good thing that Harry wasn't troubled by the river of death, on the contrary, he was ridiculously comfortable there for someone who wasn't dead and spent the journey dancing and singing in the silent river.
Diagon Alley itself was another surprise, they passed through the mundane world to get there and Kibeth made a few comments comparing it to Acelstierre so they didn't do anything too outrageous that would draw attention to themselves. Harry was rather amused by the wide-eyed goblins that had taken one look at Astarael and Kibeth before shaking with fear, it seemed that they'd managed to divine their nature.
Once they'd gotten the money they had to stop Harry from purchasing the book store itself, they hadn't a problem with the large number of books that he purchased though and decided that the next stop must be for a trunk with an expanded space.
Harry's and Astarael's clothing seemed to be getting a few odd looks, they both wore surcoats quartered with they symbol of Astarael, a derivative of which became the symbol of the Abhorsen, and Harry wore his bandoleer of bells across that. The looks decided it, their next stop would be the robe shop so they could blend in better.
It was in Madam Malkin's that Harry met a rather unpleasant person, he was a braggart and a snob. Harry had only just been introduced to other people today for the first time in a decade and he didn't appreciate this boy's attitude at all. He may have added a few charter marks with a time delay on him that would make a few embarrassing things happen but hey, no one would be able to link it back to him.
On the train to school, Harry sat and read through some of the charter books that he hadn't read yet. It seemed the journey wouldn't be a peaceful one though as he was soon interrupted by a redhead looking for somewhere to sit, Harry didn't mind as long as he kept quiet which he seemed incapable of as he started to talk about some sport, Quidditch if he heard right, something that Harry had absolutely no interest in.
Soon enough, a bushy-haired girl came by looking for a toad. Harry strung together a few charter marks which would act as a compass for an amphibian and told her that the toad was about nine metres in that direction which would put it in the girl's lavatory. She seemed interested in the charter magic he displayed and was disappointed when he told her that only someone baptised in the charter could use it, and he didn't really know how that worked.
The third interruption was the blonde boy from Madam Malkin's who proceeded to insult the readhead, the redhead sniped back and they both looked to Harry, expecting him to take a side. He just sighed and grabbed his trunk.
"If you two want to insult each other then don't let me get in the way of your burgeoning relationship." He said as he left the compartment much to the shock of both boys.
"Harry Potter!" Mcgonagall called and the boy with his long hair tied up in a ponytail strode forwards and sat on the stool, watching as everyone tried to get a look at him before the ha fell over his eyes.
'Hmm, very interesting Mr. Potter. Raised by what we could equate to gods and taught a runic magic that has never been heard of here before. I see that you are also wearing those bells of yours, I ask that you don't go on a rampage in school with them as they are a rather deadly tool. Your disregard for the rules would earn you a place in brash Gryffindor if the connotations of learning this 'free magic' were otherwise but that would lead you straight to Slytherin where you don't exactly have a major ambition. You love books, do you? Better be...'
"Ravenclaw!" the hat shouted for all to hear as Harry headed for the blue and bronze table.
Hermione Granger was in a snit. She was a remarkably intelligent girl and she knew it. The problem was one Harry James Potter, she'd seen a few students try and hex him in the corridors and he replied with some weird magic that he called 'charter magic' and she couldn't find a single reference to it anywhere in the library. There was also those bells he wore, they were obviously magical in nature but he wouldn't let anyone get a closer look at them. he said they were too dangerous. Yeah right, he was probably trying to seem mysterious or something.
In classes, Harry Potter was also the first one to get a spell down and he was amazing at theory too. He said it was due to growing up around and being able to feel magic but all the books said he grew up with muggles so that was another lie! She'd also seen him sit there for a few hours and weave loads of those runes together and form something that he smiled at before he tried to wear the runes or something. Hermione scoffed at that, runes had to be etched, drawn or engraved on something to have an effect and here he was trying to wear them.
That stopped when he transformed into a bird and started flying around, an impossibility that broke at least two laws of magic as that definitely wasn't an animagus transformation nor did he self-transfigure with a wand but he refused to teach her this incredible magic and she was mad, knowledge should be shared and not kept secret like this brat-who-lived was doing!
Harry soon got irritated by the girl that had taken to following him and asking questions like a rabid dog gnawing at a hunk of rotten meat. He was getting tired of telling her no and she just wouldn't seem to accept it, he had a few plans in mind of embarrassing pranks to pull on her if this continued.
It turned out that pranks would have to wait as there was a troll loose in the castle and Hermione was off crying her eyes out because of the redhead that had gotten his kicks from insulting her like he did Blondie. So here he was facing off against a rather large troll and he didn't have a sword which would have given him at least a little comfort right then.
He whistled and drew a few charter marks but the thick hide of the troll seemed to weaken the effect quite drastically which meant he had to try other methods. Reaching inside his robe, he flipped a bell out of its pouch, Saraneth the sixth bell, and began ringing it in a figure of eight pattern.
The troll struggled against the binding effect of the bell but its dim wits proved its undoing as Harry commanded it to leave the castle and return to its natural habitat. It was unfortunate that the teachers encountered them as Harry was guiding the troll out of the castle. hey demanded for him to hand over his bells claiming that they had an effect similar to the imperious curse but he refused. When Dumbledore told him that he would contact the Dursleys, his supposed guardians, and Harry had told them in no uncertain terms that his mother's name was Astarael, Dumbledore demanded to see this woman to speak with her about him.
Harry couldn't wait for the meeting between his headmaster and what was essentially a spirit of death, he wondered if he should warn him but thought better of it. He would get his enjoyment out of this at least.
For those that can't tell, this is a cross-over between Harry Potter and the Old Kingdom series.
