Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Raistlin Majere belongs to Margaret Weis, and my soul belongs to Cthulhu. Ia fhtagn!

Chapter 7: The Sacrifice

Time past, as time is wont to do, and the seasons turned. Soon the morning dew began to leave traceries of frost on the chill walls of the castle, and Raistlin's breath clouded the air like the exhalations of a sleeping dragon.

He stood on the edge of the forbidden forest, watching as the first rays of a new day shone starkly through the trees. The air was cold and still, the silence pressing in around him, as if the whole world was waiting for something. The ancient and gnarled trees before him seemed filled with dark promises, the leafless branches clawed at the sky as if silently screaming for an end to their torment.

Raistlin smiled bitterly. If anyone understood torment, it was him. Bound to the earth by the roots they needed to survive, only in death would they know release. The deep snow surrounding him bore mute testament to the power of nature.

Today was the last day of term. Tomorrow, the majority of students would be returning home for the holidays; very few had elected to stay. Raistlin, of course, would not be going. He saw no reason to leave. Hogwarts provided all he needed, and he wanted access to the library of magic here.

Today was also the Winter Solstice. A time of renewal and rebirth, the rising of the sun would mark the end of the reign of darkness, the ascent of light. Few wizards were aware of the importance of the date. Fewer still realised that this, the shortest day of the near, the longest night, was not a day of power for the dark. It was the day the dark failed.

Even the night must fail, For light sleeps in the eyes; And dark becomes dark on dark, Until the darkness dies. Raistlin thought to himself, reflecting on all the had happened. He had been busy this past month, studying, working, and today... today his efforts came to fruition.

Raistlin nodded once, sharply, and strode forward into the forest.

oOoOoOo

Three weeks ago...

"It's not working." Raistlin glared at the empty glass in frustration.

"I don't understand," Hermione answered, "you've got the incantation right, and you're doing the wand motion even better than I am."

"Maybe charms just aren't your strong suit?" one of the twins asked. They had taken to joining their little study group recently. At first drawn by curiosity about Raistlin, they kept coming back because of Draco Malfoy.

Away from the company of other Slytherins, and after having all references to blood purity summarily forbidden by Raistlin, he proved to have a biting, acerbic wit, which he was more than happy to demonstrate on the twins. They, in turn forbidden from relying on the physical humor that was their usual standby, enjoyed the competition. So far, Draco had been managing the last word nine out of ten times.

"It isn't enough. None of the spells I've tried have a fraction of the power they should have."

"Hold on," Draco said, "I've just had a thought."

"Cause for celebration!" One of the twins said, "What's that, two this year?"

"Regular scholar, our Draco."

"It's easy enough," Draco replied with a sneer, "when you don't have to share one brain between two bodies."

"Enough, you two. Draco?" Raistlin asked.

"What if your problem is exactly as it seems? What if something – or some one – is draining your magic?"

"I would have noticed."

"No, wait, hear me out." Draco raised his hands placatingly. "You've been looking at magic, as magic. Well, what if whatever's draining your power, isn't magic?"

"You mean some sort of muggle drug?" Hermione asked.

"No, nothing like that. But, I was just thinking, the magic we get taught at Hogwarts isn't the only kind of magic. We do, let's see, charms, transfiguration, runes, arithmancy, potions, divination, am I missing any?"

"History of magic" and "Astronomy" the twins put in, looking intrigued. "Herbology?" Neville added uncertainly.

"No, those don't count, they don't involve actual magic. What else is there?" Draco looked around at his friends (a word he never thought he would be able to use about himself). They all looked clueless, except for Hermione, who shifted nervously.

"Hermione?" Raistlin asked, noticing. "What are you thinking?"

"Oh, Harry, no, it's really dark, I mean bad, you really don't want to get involved in it..." she said miserably.

"Tell me."

Squirming beneath his stern glare, Hermione answered in a whisper. "Blood magic."

Now that she mentioned it, Raistlin remembered a number of references to blood in the various books he had been reading from the restricted section. For the most part, though, he had not realised that they referred to an entire separate branch of magic.

"Blood magic? Explain."

Draco answered him. "I only know a little, my father just told me how to recognize it and that I should never, ever, do anything with it. The thing is, with blood magic, is that it's permanent. Any wizard would have to be crazy to use it, because any blood spell you perform will last forever – and permanently drains some of the casters power to fuel itself."

"So, you think someone used my blood for some sort of blood magic spell, and it permanently reduced my power."

"Yes." Draco said simply.

Raistlin sat back, considering the possibility. It made sense. Sorting through the memories of the original Harry Potter, Raistlin realized that there were plenty of times had lost blood. He didn't know how much it would take, but... Thinking back, if someone had come up to the Dursley's and asked to take some of Harry's blood, Vernon would most likely have agreed... and maybe even offered a knife to do it with. Harry could easily have been obliviated afterwards.

"It makes sense. So, if we assume my blood was used, is there any way to get free of the binding?"

"No" Draco said, sadly. "That's why it's so dangerous. You can undo a charm with another charm, but nothing will free you from blood magic. Someone else's blood won't work, and if you use your own, it will only reinforce the spell. Blood for blood."

Raistlin's head snapped up at this last part, which had the ring of familiarity. Thinking back, he remembered it was from one of the first books he read. Blood for Blood, Life for Life.

But that section wasn't about blood magic. Or at least, it wasn't called blood magic. It was about sacrifice. Maybe blood magic works, because the blood is still a part of the wizard. Maybe, to break the spell, they have to be willing to give up the blood used for it. And the magic.

This did not appeal to him, but on the other hand, the magic was already lost to him, and he didn't like the idea of being the fuel for some other wizards spell. Additionally, there was a chance that he might regain some of the magic lost, once the bond was broken, and that would be worth any cost. Yes. Raistlin thought, I would risk my life for the magic. No chance is too small to pass up, for the sake of the magic.

oOoOoOo

December 22, 1991. 8:46 AM...

Raistlin stood in a clearing the forbidden forest. The snow lay deep around him, and the ancient trees pressed close about him. The clearing was precisely forty and one half feet in diameter, or three times three ells, and a perfect circle. The hushed silence lent it a sepulchral air, enhanced by the slowly brightening twilight.

Raistlin's minions had been here since last night, preparing the circle, while he performed a ritual meditation. He looked around. Everything was in place. They had even used levitation charms to prevent the snow being disturbed.

In the centre of the clearing lay the implements he would need for the sacrifice rite – a knife, a brazier, and a braid of thestral hair. Surrounding him were the elemental icons – a stone for each aspect. Obsidian, for fire; Sandstone, for water; Moissanite, for air; and Marble, for earth.

Raistlin slowly lowered his robe, and stepped naked into the centre of the circle, kneeling before the ritual items. Slowly, the sun rose. The ritual must be accomplished at precisely 9:01 AM, the moment of dawn, when the balance shifted between light and dark. Raistlin could already feel the energies building around him.

Suddenly, the clearing was pierced by a single ray of light. The snow around him lit up as if on fire. Almost blinded by the flare, Raistlin felt a rush of power surrounding him, the energies rising, twisting, being caught by the circle of stones and turned inward... His heart raced; this was the moment! This is it, Raistlin thought, For this moment, I live; in this moment, I die...

He had only seconds to act; his hands almost shaking with suppressed tension, his breath coming faster, Raistlin began the ritual. Unleashing his power, he allowed his personal energy to flow out from him, surrounding him, mixing with the building energy of the earth and sky, rising around him in a swirl of magic.

"Great mother, hear me!" Raistlin cried.

"My name is Harry Potter, and as your child I call upon you!" Raistlin called out, as he slashed his left palm, allowing his blood to flow out and splash upon the ground before him.

"My name is Fistandantilus, and by my blood I call upon you!" Raistlin cried again, cutting another gash in his palm, and allowing his blood to flow again. He could feel a response in the magic around him, energies building instead of dissipating, and he felt a building excitement. This is going to work!

"My name is Raistlin Majere, and by my name I call upon you!" Raistlin roared aloud, feeling the energy rushing through him as he cut his palm again, the deepest slash yet, allowing his blood to flow like water, soaking through the snow at his knees to touch the earth beneath.

"Thrice I have named myself before you! Thrice I have called upon you! Thrice I invoke you! HEAR ME!"

The last echoes of his voice faded from the air, leaving a sense of expectation. The power drawn forth by the dawn, by the change of seasons, thrummed around him. The snow shone like the surface of the sun, the nearby trees casting dark shadows that danced and twisted as if alive.

The brazier in front of him lit; the virgin charcoal bursting alight without his conscious direction. Raistlin felt as if the whole world had stopped in its course, waiting for his next words.

"That which was taken from me, I release!" Raistlin said, wrapping the cord of thestral hair around his left wrist. He could feel the dark energies within it mixing with his aura, melding, combining, as if awakened to new life by the power humming in the air.

Stretching his hand over the fire, Raistlin clenched his fist, forcing more blood to flow. It splashed down on the flames, bursting into puffs of smoke with a hissing noise, as the fire grew only brighter. Raistlin felt his magic draining from him, yet the energy in the air sustained him, filling him with false life. He forced himself to keep going.

"By the blood that I shed now, by my life, freely given, I renounce all claim to that which I am not. Let that which is not in me, be not of me!"

With a burst of energy, the brazier exploded in a roar of flame. Feeling it sweep around him, Raistlin braced himself, and stood fast. Now was the moment of truth; to retain his life, he must be willing to surrender it. To live, he must allow himself to die.

Few people would have the strength of will to gamble all they had, in the hope that it could be still better. Even fewer would have the mental discipline required. In the moment the flames reached him, Raistlin needed to be truly willing to give up his life. If he retained even the faintest hope that he would survive, the slightest desire for life, the fire would consume him. It was a tremendous risk.

The clearing rang like a bell, the echoes of magic bursting forth as the flames rushed up, around him... and let me live. More then that, Raistlin sensed a presence in the fire. A solid touch, as if another being reached out to him through the magic, through the circle. The fire touched him only for the briefest instant; yet the instant stretched on, and in it, Raistlin heard a woman's voice, deep, rich, and seductive.

"My dearest child, you do not know what you offer. So much you would sacrifice, so much give up, and for what? Love? No, you do not love. Freedom then? But you will never be truly free. Power, perchance? Yes, I see the shape of your desire. You yearn for it; for control, for possession. You want more, you want... the magic."

Raistlin waited.

"I could give you magic. Power beyond what even you could conceive. Immortality. You would be as a god! Everything you desire I offer you."

"And the price, for this largesse?"

"You have offered me your life. Live it in service to me. Humanity has strayed from the path, poisoned the seas, corrupted the earth. You must cleanse it. Go among men, destroy the abominations they have wrought, and remake the world as it should be. A small price, I think, for so much as I can offer you."

Visions danced before his mind's eye; Raistlin calling forth power, a torrent of flame sweeping the earth. An earthquake, levelling a city, as Raistlin floated above it, orchestrating the fall. He felt the familiar rush of magic, great magic, magic such as he hadn't felt since Krynn, and he quivered with desire for it.

An ecstasy beyond anything mortal means could offer, he yearned for it, craved it, and knew that if he accepted the offer, he would have it. And yet...

"You mistake me, my Lady." Raistlin spoke at last.

"I do indeed seek freedom, and a gilded cage is still a cage. I will not serve, will never server, anyone but myself. I cannot be compelled. I will not be commanded. I answer to no one!"

With a flick of his wrist, Raistlin brought his ritual blade up to press against his throat.

"My life may not be mine, but neither is it yours."

"Oh my child, how have you come to this, to think so poorly of me?" the woman's voice answered sadly, cruelly mocking. "But I am afraid you have no choice... You have offered me you life, and I accept. Your petty bluff will avail you not."

Raistlin felt a sudden burning in his arm, as his muscles contracted, trying to pull the knife away from his throat. His body answering to another's will, he felt a flood of desperation. He had failed; he had risked his life, and lost. No rescue would be forthcoming. There was no trickery that might save him, no power, no hope.

Thoughts flashed through is mind, quick as a a lightning flash, illuminating everything he would be leaving behind. Raistlin knew there was nothing he could do; his body was no longer his, the magic no longer answering him. All that remained was a choice, possibly the last free choice he would ever make. Would it be so bad, to serve? At least he would still be alive. Perhaps he would free himself, in time; why throw away his life now? Visions of everything precious to him passed through his mind, and then the one thing that means the most to him, the one thing that he could never bear to surrender.

All this happened in an instant. Knowing that his situation was truly hopeless, that he would get no second chance, Raistlin acted immediately. Thrusting himself forward, he felt the blade still in his hand sink into his neck. A flash of pain, and the last thing Raistlin saw, as he fell forward into darkness, was a spray of bright blood soaking into the snow before him.

oOoOoOo

The time was 9:02 AM, December 22, 1991. The new year had begun.

oOoOoOo

A/N: There will most likely be no chapter next weekend. Because christmas. Even interrupted me this week – I would have written more, but I ran out of time. That, and I kind of like leaving it on a cliffhanger ;)