Disclaimer:I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.
Chapter Four: The Blood Stone
It was two days since the day of Harry's ill fated visit to the Burrow. Ginny had been a right mess the rest of Sunday afternoon. As much as Hermione's heart went out to her, it ached that much more for Harry's sake.
Ginny was the answer to Harry's wounded soul, and the majority of the reason for it being wounded as well. Harry was the true victim here. Granted, he could make things a lot easier for both of them, but he had no reason to either. Easy- was just not Harry's way of doing things of a personal nature.
Hermione had waited two days out of respect for Harry's feelings, but she could wait no longer. At the end of her endless work day, she would make a trip out to the unplottable and Fidelus protected Potter Estate to check on her friend,.. and give him a much needed nudge in the right direction.
Harry had finally come home, and Hermione meant to keep him here. In truth, though they remained close friends, her heart would never be whole until she, Ron and Harry were together again. Admittedly; Ron was a work in progress and Harry was as complicated at the best of times, but she had hope for them all. The 'Golden Trio' was more than a moniker to identify three of the magical world's elite adventurers. It was the designation of three friends who not only triumphed time and again over impossible odds, but did so out of there great love and respect for one another. They were a family, one that had been torn asunder with Harry's forced banishment.
She wanted her family whole again. She wanted her dream. It was the dream of all of them, really. They had planned to share their lives together. Grow old raising their children together. Voldemort's death was never supposed to be their end; it was only suppose to be the beginning.
As Hermione watched the clock in her small office at the D.O.M.( Dept. of Mysteries), Harry rubbed his tired, non-spectacled eyes and took a break from the ancient tome he'd been pouring over. Harry had forgone his spectacles prior to his mage training and submitted to curative potion therapy.
The potions used to correct his eyes had cost a small fortune, were vile to the taste and had caused pain beyond endurance. The potions physically altered the size and shape of his eyes to correct his refraction thus eliminating his short sightedness- permanently. It had felt as if someone with Bellatrix Lestrange like cruelty had worked on his eyeballs with pliers.
The cost had been inconsequential as Harry had inherited the Potter fortune on his seventeenth birthday. Despite his immense wealth, the cost of the potions had actually made a scratch in his wallet which wasn't even a scratch in the Potter fortune, but that was beside the point. After days on agony, Harry had serious misgivings about the procedure. Now, it seemed like the best ten thousand galleons he'd ever spent.
Harry had spent the past day and a half researching ancient tomes of magical lore whose information concerned magical artifacts, both established and legendary artifacts.
The Henderson crime scene had revealed little, other than the Paralyzing Pixie Dust he'd discovered after casting literally hundreds of revealus charms . The dust's origins had been easy enough to trace to the Weasleys. While intriguing, the dust itself was no more than a tool, or a weapon used in the case. One he hoped might give him a direction toward those that had perpetrated the insidious crime. The confederation was following the paper trail of orders place for quantities of the Dust. Hopefully the next day or two would provide the a lead on a potential suspect or two.
Having had the Weasley brothers take the dust off the market had been the right thing to do. Its unintended potential as a debilitating weapon made it too dangerous to be allowed available to the public sector as a mere party favor. The M.L.E. S. (Ministerial Law Enforcement Squad) and the confederation both recognized the potential application for the product, (tactfully pointed out by a well placed word or two of endorsement from Harry). It had great potential for apprehension of suspects, crowd control, prisoner transfer, ect..
What had originally been a major financial loss for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, would undoubtedly turn into a profit windfall with the potential to make them an absolute fortune in defense contracts.
The only thing he had asked of his delighted superiors was that they keep his name out of it. He felt that he owed them something, but he in no way wanted to give the impression that he was interested in renewing ties.
His life was his now. He'd made his choice and while perhaps he wasn't exactly happy, he was at least content.
Harry had spent the afternoon at Potter Estate, recovering from the emotional turmoil that resulted from his ill conceived trip to the Weasley home. His reputation for relentless pursuit of justice had its drawbacks. The next time he would think before overzealously following a clue, such as the Pixie Dust.
The Henderson family business had been that of affluent tradesmen of ancient and rare antiquities. Unlike Borgin and Burkes the Henderson family never dabbled in dark objects, never. Their reputation in wizarding world trade circles was sterling- and deservedly so.
The family had no known enemies. No competitor's who held a grudge. No rivalries within the family. The crime was not one of passion, nor was it a standard burglary gone awry.
The parents and daughters had been painstakingly and methodically tortured. Perpetrators only undertook such heinous acts to elicit information. They were after either an object or information that would lead them to something valuable, something extremely valuable given their disgusting tenacity.
He couldn't be sure, but it was most likely that Mr. Henderson had not known what the perpetrators were after. No man would have been able to take watching his wife and children brutalized in the fashion that they were without breaking. Either that, or Mr. Henderson had considered their sacrifice the lesser of two evils by comparison to the potential dangerousness of whatever it was that his murderers had sought.
There had been no need to destroy the family. The perpetrators had only done so for two reasons; One; to make absolutely sure that Henderson was not holding back any information. Two; they enjoyed murdering, so much so that they had taken the lives of their lovely daughters. For that alone; Harry had pledged himself to finding the murderous vermin responsible. When he did, he fervently hoped they resisted arrest, or better still, chose to fight.
The only other clue the crime scene held was a page torn from Henderson's trade ledger. Revealus charms had proven ineffective in trying to establish what information the ledger's missing page had contained. Harry has tried another, somewhat primitive method of investigation. It had proven worthwhile.
Harry used the side of a pencil to shade the page beneath the ledger's missing page. As he had hoped, the writing on the missing page had left a slight indentation in the page beneath that the shading had a least partially revealed.
It listed several items of exchange. Some were bits and pieces having once belonged to the founders, ie.. Griffyndor's quill, a brush that had once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, ect..
A curious entry toward the bottom mentioned the acquisition of a ring belonging to the Great Merlin . The ledger read:
Merlin Emerys- Ring, Silver-Blood Stone with emeralds.
Acquired: 3 August, 2000. Disposed: _
The missing ledger raised several questions. Of primary interest at this point was what exactly is a blood stone, and why on earth would anyone want to destroy an object that had once belonged to the Great Merlin. The only answer to the latter was that whatever it was, it was beyond dangerous in the wrong hands. Thus the former was the true clue to the mystery, ie.. the blood stone ?
Researching the origins of a blood stone had proven, thus far, as elusive as finding information on Nicholas Flamel and the Sorcerer's Stone, (the Golden Trio's first year at Hogwarts).
It was in this same spot that Hermione, Ron and himself had spent countless hours searching for mention of the Sorcerer's Stone and Nicholas Flamel. It was in this spot that Harry now searched alone with a nagging sense of déjà vu and unshakable melancholy.
Unlike the first time, this time he had permission to use the Restricted Section, however, like the first time, thus far his search had proven fruitless.
His reunion with the Hogwart's headmistress was bittersweet. Minerva McGonagal appeared utterly shocked by his appearance at her office door. Shock had melded to delight, which had quickly turned to bitterness over his abandoning what McGonagal had coined "You're complete and utter abandonment of a relationship that was based on mutual respect, trust and consideration. I, for one, had considered our friendship priceless on the whole. You've disappointed me greatly, Mr. Potter. While I do not consider your reasons for having left without merit at the time, I do not hold you blameless for your reluctance to respond to my overtures these past several years. You could have at least sent a card now and again, Harry."
He had completely and utterly been ashamed. She was right. He had abandoned friends who were and had remained loyal to him. He had much to atone for.
He may have chosen a life of duty and obligation, however that did not preclude him being a responsible friend, let alone adult wizard.
Harry's eyes drifted to his watch. It was gone five in the afternoon. It was time to start atoning.
Harry pushed back the stack of open books in front of him. Cast an imperturbable charm over the area, (to ensure his privacy), and rose smoothly from the weathered oak table. He intended to enjoy the evening, as he had the previous day; in the company of two highly respected, mature and learned witches that was his pleasure to escort to dinner this evening.
Hermione apparated to the front door of the Potter Estate and rapped several times with the Lion's head clapper mounted on the door frame.
The enormous iron fortified oak door opened smoothly without the slightest creek. It like the rest of Potter Estate was meticulously cared for.
"Mistress 'Mione ! " Hermione had barely registered the greeting when she felt tiny arms encircle her leg in an iron gripped hug.
"Hello, Kreacher." Hermione responded warmly she patted the elf's many capped head affectionately.
"Can I speak to Harry, please?" Hermione asked hopefully.
Kreacher reluctantly released his hold on her leg and stepped back shaking his head. His bat like ears flapped back and forth across his head "No, Miss. Master Harry is not in this evening. Kreacher has not seen his good master for two days now." Kreacher replied dolefully.
"Did he say where he was going?" Hermione inquired hopefully.
Kreacher's eyes grew wide in acknowledgement but he refused to answer. "Kreacher cannot say, Miss. Master Harry is working."
"Hmm, but you said he's not been home in two days. He must be out of the country then, or he would return home. I mean. the man must sleep somewhere?" Hermione surmised puzzled.
"Not out of the country, miss." Kreacher clarified with a wink. This was an old game between the two. Kreacher never betrayed Harry's privacy, at least not really. He did, however, reassure Hermione at times.
Hermione quirked an eyebrow in a skeptical fashion.
"Not out of the England itself?" she narrowed the field down.
Kreacher shook his head, sending his ears to flapping.
"Scotland, then." Hermione surmised. "Hogwarts!" Hermione gasped in sudden understanding.
"I'm sorry to run off, Kreacher, but I have this sudden urge to visit headmistress, McGonnagal." Hermione apologized as she headed for the boundary of the anti-apparation wards.
"Kreacher understands, Miss. Good luck, Miss." Kreacher called after her with a delighted, toothy grin.
Harry was just finishing his soup when caretaker Argus Filch, the old git, stomped up to the table and interrupted the byplay between Headmistress McGonagal an Poppy Pomfrey.
"We have another unexpected visitor, headmistress. " He announced stressing his words meaningfully at Harry's expense.
Harry chose to ignore the man. He'd settle for giving his cat, Mrs. Norris, a good kick in the hindquarters later.
"Please show him in, Argus. " McGonagal directed.
"It's a her, mum." Filch corrected.
Harry's eyebrow went up suspiciously. "Who is she?"
"Oh, a former student, I believe. " Filch responded vaguely before adding. "I believe you may have made her acquaintance. She's a former Head Girl, though not when you still attended, if memory serves." Filch finished coyly.
Harry's face darkened like a summer storm.
"Redhead or brunette?" He asked coldly.
"Bushy brown, I believe was the common description for that hair type then" Filch smirked.
A smile ghosted across McGonagal's face at seeing Harry's expression regarding Ms. Granger's unexpected arrival. "See our visitor in please, Mr. Filch."
She couldn't be sure, but she could almost swear she saw Harry tremble faintly in response to her invitation. Strange that.
Harry returned to his meal with a gusto that was reminiscent of his former friend, Ronald Weasley. He patently ignored the click of his friend's approaching heels as she crossed the Hall's flagstone floor.
McGonagal rose expectantly and greeted her former favorite student warmly. "Good Evening Ms. Granger, we seem to be hosting a rather unexpected reunion of sorts. I don't suppose Mr. Ronald Weasley, will be joining us as well, that would make for a pat hand? "
McGonagal chanced a glance toward Harry, making note of his slight pause in eating at the mention of his former friend.
Interesting.
"Er,. No, Ron won't be coming, at least not to my knowledge. It is a pleasure to see you headmistress and you too, Madam Pomfrey."
"Such formality." McGonagal tisked. "We should be on a first name basis, Hermione. I insist that you call me Minerva from now on. " McGonagal swept her hand toward Harry. " Of course, you all ready are acquainted with our other quest, Mr. Potter."
Taking his cue, Harry nodded stiffly without raising his eyes from his plate.
"Hermione" he acknowledged foramally.
Hermione's face fell slightly at Harry's cool acknowledgment, but she continued undaunted.
"Harry, I was wondering if we could talk a bit?" She inquired.
Harry paused as if considering, though he had already set his mind against any such encounter from the moment Filch announced her arrival.
"I'm afraid not." He declined. "I have a great deal of research to do this evening and little time to waste."
"Nonsense" McGonagal intervened. "Surely you can spare a moment for an old friend?"
Harry shot the headmistress a glare as he addressed Hermione bitingly.
"What do you want, Hermione?"
"Manners, Mr. Potter." McGonagal warned. "I expect a degree of civility from visitors to the castle. It is my understanding that Knights are known for chivalry, are they not?" She admonished.
Harry nodded. "My apologies to you headmistress and to you too, Hermione." Before Hermione could seize the opportunity she thought he afforded her, he repeated with feigned civility.
"What would you care to discuss this evening, Ms. Granger?"
Hermione tucked a stray hair behind her ear to stall as she considered her next words.
"No offence intended to the headmistress or to Madam Pomfrey, but I think our conversation requires a bit more privacy?"
Harry feigned surprise. "Really? I can think of nothing that would require such discretion. Please, continue."
Hermione paused, biting her lower lip uncertainly. "Is this where you want to discuss what happened at the Burrow on Sunday?"
Harry raised a surprised eyebrow. "There is nothing about my brief, if impromptu, visit to the Burrow during my investigation that requires any discussion." Harry intoned in a frank and open manner that clearly said that the topic was not open for discussion.
"You visited the Weasleys, how nice." McGonagal joined winningly. "I'm so glad that you've all resolved you're issues."
Harry turned to the headmistress with an incredulous look. "There are no issues with the Weasleys that require any resolution. Quite the contrary, I whole heartedly agree with and support their views as originally stated." Harry rose from the table smoothly.
"If you ladies will excuse me, I have research waiting. " Harry bowed formally and left the Hall before anyone could offer a word of rebuttal.
"I take it there's been a development? Something happened this Sunday last?" McGonagal surmised.
"Ginny happened." Hermione offered vaguely, but smiling wickedly.
"Ah, in that case.." McGonagal nodded her understanding, "I believe you'll find he's gone to the library, Hermione." McGonagal offered in support.
Hermione flashed her an appreciative smile. "Thank you,... Minerva."
McGonagal sighed smiling as she retook her seat next to Poppy Pomfrey.
"It would appear that young Ms. Weasley has got him on the run, Minnie?" Poppy Pomfrey chided.
"My thoughts exactly, Poppy. It's about time to."
Poppy nodded her head knowingly. "It'll be nice to have him around more often."
"One can never tell where Mr. Potter is concerned, but personally, I'm with you. I wouldn't bet against Ms. Weasley and that lovely temper and tenacity of hers."
The two friends finished their meal chuckling softly on the topic.
Hermione entered the library without hesitation. Harry may be a knight, but he was on her battlefield now. She scanned the room, finding him hunched over several volumes in the 'Restricted Section' of the library.
At seeing her self- assured approach toward him, Harry cast a quick obfuscate charm over the material in front of him. Hermione's natural curiosity had not diminished over the years, quite the contrary.
"Can I speak to you?" she asked confidently.
"It would appear so." Harry returned with the slightest hint of amusement in his voice.
Hermione re-tucked a stray hair behind her ear, "About Sunday?"
"Nice weather that day, very mild, temperate for this time of year." Harry chided smugly.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I won't just let it go, you know?" She warned with forced calmness.
Now Harry rolled his eyes. "Like you ever have before?" he returned with a long suffering tone. "What exactly is your point already, Hermione?" he continued wearily.
"My point is that you still love her, and she loves you, you git. Be with her. Be with us. It's where you belong. Mistakes were made, I know, but,… there's no reason that we all can't reconcile and move forward, if for no other reason than for yours and Ginny's sakes."
Harry just sat there, staring at her with the most unreadable expression on his face. After several anxious minutes of fidgeting, she could take it no longer and pressed.
"Well?"
"Well what?" he returned vacantly.
"What's your answer?" Hermione huffed.
"I hadn't realized that you asked a question." Harry responded nonchalantly.
He was infuriating when he was like this.
"You know very well what I'm asking of you? You also know what I want and what I expect. Please, Harry, not just for hers but for your own sake…?"
Harry held up a hand to forestall her. "Let's say for the sake of argument that you even have a point here, not that I think you do, but for the sake of argument let's say that you do?" He spoke to her in an unsettling, condescending manner that raised her hackles.
"I don't love, Ginny. Even if I did, there would be no point to it." He began.
"No point! How can you sit there and so calmly claim there's no point?" Hermione interrupted incredulously.
"Hello,.. Battle Mage here. Confederation Knight- remember?" He waved his hand before her eyes to get her attention.
"My duty is to the magical realm. Not to a single person, not even to myself. Any possible consequences of the heart are wholly secondary to my duty to the realm. I am not free to indulge idly any romantic notions that should exist- which they don't." He finished with a stubborn set to his jaw that she knew well.
"What a load of shi…"
"Hermione?!" Harry cut her off in surprise. Upon further scrutiny, he could plainly see that she was winding herself up for a first rate rant and decided to head her off as best he could.
"Listen, 'Mione, there's nothing to reconcile with the Weasley family. While I admit I found their opinion shocking at first, I've come to see some grain of truth in it and to an extent; even appreciate the insight they've afforded me. I am, for all intents and purposes, the 'Hand of Death'. Being around me always has and will prove to be a death sentence for anyone."
CRACK
Hermione's hand left a stinging imprint on the side of Harry's face.
"You are not death, damn you." Hermione hissed in fury.
"You are the embodiment of everything that is good and right in this world and I refuse to sit here and listen to you spew that tripe. You are the most courageous, most honorable person I have ever known. I defy anyone to say otherwise, even you."
Harry sighed. "Just because you don't like the message, Hermione, doesn't make it any less true. People get killed being around me…"
CRACK
"Stop It." She warned having slapped his other cheek. "You have always strived to protect others. You save lives. You don't take them."
Harry shot her a dubious look of reproof as he clarified..."But I do, Hermione. I have and I will again. I have become that which Molly Weasley so aptly labeled me. I hold no ill will toward the Weasleys for having merely put to words what the rest of the general public already assumed to be true. People get dead around me."
CRACK
"Hermione..?" Harry tried to reason with her, but he did not try to stop her. "Please, listen? You know that on some level, what I'm saying is tru…"
CRACK
"Hermione,.. please?"
CRACK
"Don't Harry. Just.. don't." Hermione warned. She left her hand in the air in obvious challenge for him to dare refute her again.
Tears welled at the corners of her beautiful brown eyes, hurting him as much as her.
"How can you possibly believe such a thing about yourself? How can you sit there and spew such utter nonsense? People admire and revere you. People love you, Harry. Though you choose to ignore it, people do love you. The Weasley's love you. McGonagal, Poppy, Luna, Neville and a hundred other friends- all love you. I love you. You are precious to me, Harry. What you believe,.. it's not true. Don't you see? I couldn't love you if it was true, and I do love you. You're my best friend and I love you with all my heart." The tears that had been threatening at the corners of her eyes fell in a torrent.
She ignored all else, save the man in front of her.
"I-I don't want to hurt you, 'Mione." Harry pleaded sincerely shrugging his shoulders helplessly.
"Then stop this madness. Come back to us. Come back to the people who love you. Ginny's waiting for you. Her heart's never given up on you and it never will. I know you feel the same and,.. I envy her for it."
Harry's shocked eyes raised to meet hers.
Hermione smirked in remembrance of another time. "Yes Harry, once upon a time there was a bushy haired teenage 'know- it- all' that had two wonderful friends, and she was loved both of them as friends and at times... were so alike in so many ways, and yet so different in others. Both were kind and courageous. Both so full of love, only the one's love was for his family and friends; the others' was for the world and all those other things that most of us take for granted. His love was a raging inferno that frightened her with the depth and intensity of it. She knew that she could never fill that heart, not entirely. Not the way it deserved to be filled. Not like the way Ginny could.
Ginny has that same heart; a raging inferno that knows no end. Only her heart burns not for the world, but for him and him alone. The bushy haired teenage 'know- it- all' chose the love of the friend who loved her and her alone. It was a love she could understand and return. It gave her a sense of security and completeness. Part of here will always wonder what could have been, but another part of her, the bigger part, rejoices in her decision. It was the right decision. One that provided her with the love of a good man and also the love of a great man whom she can still call her best friend,… her brother. One day, when he wakes up, he really will be her brother."
Harry stared wide eyed at her, speechless for several minutes. When he finally did find his voice, it was the merest of whispers.
" She.. can't.. love .. me?" He murmured apprehensively.
"She does love you." Hermione reassured.
"She's so out of my league. She's gorgeous and I'm just..?"
"You're adorable." Hermione smiled knowingly. His resolve was melting. Merlin, I wish Ginny were here.
Harry quirked an eyebrow and answered disdainfully. "Adorable all right? I'm about as adorable as a coiled snake or an enraged hippogriff."
"Harry James Potter!" Hermione scathed in exasperation. "You're so clueless it's pathetic. Those eyes of yours are a magic all themselves. Unruly hair that's just begging a woman to run her fingers thru it. You've got a physique that's to die for. You exude confidence and sex appeal from every pore of your oh- so- muscular body, and that's just the outside. What's inside you, when you're not wallowing in self pity, puts the outside package to shame. You're infinitely patient, courageous, kind, loving and gentle. In short Harry, you're the catch of a lifetime. Ginny would be a fool not to want you, and I can assure you, Ginny's no fool."
Harry was blushing furiously at this point, but he still wasn't entirely convinced.
"Even if everything you say is true, she wouldn't want me? I'm a killer. I've got blood on my hands."
CRACK
"Are you listening to me?" Hermione asked in a threatening tone. "You are not a killer. You are not death. You are life and hope. You're a hero, Harry. You're probably the greatest hero the magical world has ever known."
Harry sniggered at this.
"Believe what you like, but it's true. If you can't believe that, than believe this; you and Ron are my heroes, but you're Ginny's hero, hers and hers alone. You always have been and you always will be."
"You don't know what you're talking about. I saw her face that night. It wasn't a hero that I saw reflected in her eyes,… it was a monster. They we're right to drive me away. I'll never be anything more than a monst- urg!"
Wumph!
This time Hermione didn't slap him, but punched him right in the teeth with such force that Harry's head actually snapped back and his eyes went out of focus briefly.
She waited until his eyes cleared and when she was certain that he was totally aware again she loomed over him rubbing her bleeding knuckles in a pointed fashion as she hissed.
"Don't ever let me hear you utter that rubbish again. Not as long as you live,.. do you hear me?" She hissed with deadly resolve.
Harry shook his head dejectedly. "You can beat me bloody and it won't change a thing, Hermione. It's no better than I deserve anyway."
Seeing her hand raise warningly he quickly amended, raising his hands in surrender. "But… in the interest of peace, I won't say it again if it offends you so much."
"Promise me?" Hermione pressed.
"Okay."
Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Say it, Harry." she pressed in warning.
"I promise."
"Much better- thank you." Hermione returned in pleased satisfaction.
"Harry..?" She paused choosing her words carefully. "Molly and Arthur asked me to invite you to the Burrow for dinner next Saturday night. Please say you'll come?" Hermione all but pleaded.
"A gracious offer, please express my appreciation and my regrets." he responded cordially.
Hermione's face fell in abject disappointment. "Surely you can afford to take off a single evening to have a relaxing dinner with friends?" she admonished him.
"That's not it at all. " Harry returned incredulously as he went through the motions of packing up his work for the evening. "Actually I had planned on catching a quidditch match that night."
"Oh- pfft." Hermione scoffed." You can watch quidditch any old time. I'm sure Ginny will be there for dinner." Hermione teased shrewdly.
She was disappointed by his non-committal shrug as he made to leave the library.
"I doubt it…. The Harpies are playing this Saturday night." Harry commented knowingly as he swept out of the library.
Hermione goggled at the door he'd just left by.
Go-Ginny-Go!
Ginny Weasley paced the Harpies locker room nervously. Actually, she was beyond nervous. She'd just played the game of her life and should be out celebrating with her teammates as they did after every big win. The difference in her attitude was due to two things.
Firstly; the inspiration for tonight's record breaking performance could be attributed to one particular thing- Harry was in the audience tonight.
She had been skeptical when Hermione had suggested that Harry would be going to the game tonight, but oddly, as soon as she had entered the pitch she knew Hermione was right. She could feel Harry's eyes on her during the entire match. It had spurred her on to new heights in scoring.
Secondly; Ginny was hoping against hope that Harry would visit her in person after the game. With that in mind, she had shunned all offers of celebration from her teammates.
A tentative knock at the locker room door tore her from her pensive thoughts.
Ginny all but flew to the door and threw it open, only to be disappointed at finding no one waiting beyond.
Her disappointed turned hopeful at seeing a long thin box with her name on it- lying on the empty hallway floor.
She scooped up the delicately wrapped package and with trembling fingers she slipped the bow tie and lifted the box lid.
A single pure white rose lie in a nest of greenery.
"H-Harry…" Ginny stammered out in whispered reverence.
The first and only flower that Harry ever gave her was a single white rose.
She lifted the rose to her nose and gently inhaled its fragrance. Beneath the rose she found a small card with only two words inscribed upon it: An Admirer
Oh Harry….
It wasn't what she was hoping for this night, but, it would do…
Hogwarts library had held up to its reputation as being the finest in Europe, if not the world. After three days of careful searching, Harry had found the information he was looking for in a moldy old tome in the restricted section that was called: Deadly Artifacts
The Bloodstone: Of all the dark artifacts listed within this tome, one sinks below the rest in the depths of its potential foulness-the bloodstone.
This gem is not the shade of blood as one might guess, but is in fact black as the depth of the despair to which the gates of hell are breeched by the use of this gem.
Created by Morgana Lefay and gifted to her bastard son-Mordred for the dread purpose of resurrection of the consciousness of one departed.
As all practitioners of magic well know, "no magic can bring back the dead" at least not in complete body, mind and soul.
Necromancy can raise the body of the dead, such as Imferi and Zombies. Mindless, soulless shells of their once former existence, these creatures are but decaying automatons.
The blood stone, however, returns the consciousness of one departed to the land of the living. That soul is housed co-commitently along with the consciousness of its host body. One consciousness usually becomes dominant, however , the life knowledge of both is readily available to either and the magical core of both remains intact, housed within a single host body, effectively doubling both magical reserves and power level.
Though no historical proof exists, scholars have long since hypothesized that after having been dispatched by her long time enemy-Merlin, Morganna Le Fey was resurrected by her son Mordred thru the use of the blood stone. Their combined magical powers and experience would explain how a relative novice, such as Mordred, could have dispatched a wizard of Merlin's caliber, before having been ultimately destroyed by King Arthur via the magic of his fabled sword-Excalibur.
Harry slammed the tome close in disgust. Merlin above! Has some idiot actually done the unthinkable and sacrificed themselves to return a damned soul?
