Yay. Chapter 7. Read. (Look, I'm running out of things to say in these blasted author notes.)
Chapter VII- Now, he is not average
Presently, Harry's anger faded, replaced with fear.
It was all very well to blame someone, but what if his magic was actually leaving?
Magic was his greatest friend and tool. Without his magic to depend on, what else was there for him?
"Harry James Potter!"
For a moment, Harry feared it was Lily.
"What on earth are you-!?" Oriana had pushed the door open, but stopped, looking at Harry's state. "Are...are you okay?" she said, obviously noticing his pale face, moistened brow and irregular breathing.
"Okay? Okay? Yes, I'm okay. Fine. Never better." Harry gabbled any nonsense that came into his head, his eyes still wide as he breathed heavily.
"Harry, what the-?"
"Flying! Quidditch!" exclaimed Harry, jumping off the bed. "Lovely sport! Let's go! Sounds like fun!"
Harry quickly pulled Oriana along with him, still thinking as they made their way to the broom shed.
His magic seemed to be more disconnected then the earlier occasions. Did that mean...it would eventually vanish?
Harry thought he had ranted badly about the moron who named the OWL and NEWT exams. That rant was nothing compared to what he thought about the brooms.
What complete and utter idiot decided it would be a good idea to fly a cleaning tool? Why use a cleaning tool? Who liked the idea of straddling a broom? Why a broom, anyway? Why not something a bit more practical? Like a chair? Or a couch? Flying a couch would be saner then flying a broom.
Harry eyed the broom suspiciously. Why had he liked this as a kid?
"Harry, just take the broom?"
The sound of laughter from above made Harry glance upwards, noticing Hayden and Ron. Apparently, they were taking a break to watch Harry make a fool of himself.
Wearily, Harry took the broom. He could do this, surely. Even squibs could ride brooms. Very reluctantly, Harry mounted the broom, at first feeling like a fool.
And then, he remembered why he had loved to fly.
He lifted from the ground, bringing up his legs to grasp the broom with his feet as well, getting into a position that streamlined his body, and he shot from his hover, curving upwards until he was perpendicular from the ground.
Instead of looping, Harry turned, so he was now vertical the other way, pointed at the ground. He plummeted at high speeds, and Harry squinted, as he clung onto the broom, the wind flying through his hair, the cloth from his bandana waving crazily in the air.
And then, as he approached the ground, he pulled up just in time, levelling the broom in parallel with the ground.
He floated over to Oriana and lazily stretched. The girl was still watching him with widened eyes.
Harry could make out a voice from above him, being carried by the wind, and floated up a few metres to eavesdrop in a more efficient way.
It was Ron. "He just pulled off a genuine Wronski Feint, Hayden. As long as he's not a Slytherin, he's alright in my book. And of course, he joins the team instead of wasting his talent...yeah, as long as he makes Gryffindor..."
And that reminded Harry, as he floated down, just above the ground. Brooms and flying could all wait. He still had to find a way to repair or heal his magic.
Suddenly, a red ball flew past him, and he looked where it had come from, seeing Oriana, mischief in her eyes, a competitive smirk on her lips.
She tossed a Quaffle up in her hand, before catching it.
"So, you can fly...but can you catch?" Oriana said with a grin.
Once again, Harry's senses had failed him- and they were in a very bad way, considering he didn't even notice the first Quaffle. Yes, something had been done to him. He was sure his magic did not decide to malfunction- so, one of the people he'd been in contact with recently had placed some block or seal on him.
But that meant...when had it occurred? Who was it? And how the hell did he miss it?
Oriana threw the Quaffle at him, and Harry only had to outstretch his arm to catch it. It appeared he didn't really have a choice now...but, maybe he'd be able to test his reflexes.
"Hey Ron, quit stopping it all the time!" Hayden joked, after the Weasley caught another attempted shot.
"Sorry, mate, but you know, kinda the point."
"Hey, time to switch! I'm on defence!" shouted Oriana.
As there were only four people, Ron stayed as a Keeper, and the other three alternated as having two people as offensive Chasers, and someone to say as a defender. All the combinations were good- save of course, the Harry and Hayden team, which was absolutely awful.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Hayden did not pass to his brother, as well as tried to be as far away from his brother as possible, and every pass Harry did give him, he stopped and would examine the Quaffle as if it were a bomb.
Harry didn't know how to react, that one little slam against a wall could have result in such a major reaction from Hayden.
Not that Harry cared really, seeing as it was only Quidditch. His stare of indifference- or maybe mild exasperation- met Hayden's stare of distrust- and maybe mild fear.
Ron hurled the Quaffle upwards into the air, and Harry shot up and snatched the ball out of the air, and shot away from the goals, waiting for Hayden to get ready.
Oriana moved to a position that would block Harry from both Hayden and Ron, but Harry rocketed forwards at her. Just as the two approached, Harry dropped the ball and dodged Oriana, and Hayden grabbed the Quaffle, and hurtled at the posts.
Deliberately, Harry performed an unusual manoeuvre, distracting Ron from the fact that there was a Quaffle heading towards one of the rings.
"Ha!" shouted Hayden.
"Yeah, yeah, guys, my mum's going to murder me if I don't get back home soon," said Ron, heading back to the house.
"Yeah, Harry, we'd better get back- Harry?" Oriana looked around in the air, before glancing down, to see Harry on the ground, already putting his broom away in the shed. "When did he-?"
Harry looked up at his sister, the girl already heading back to the ground. So far, he'd estimate them as being friends, rather than sharing a family bond yet.
But to be fair, Oriana, unlike anyone else in the Potter family, probably was the only one he'd make a family bond with. The two had sort of clicked- or maybe Oriana's friendly nature had somehow worked with his not-so-friendly-and- stay-the-hell-away-from-me nature. It wasn't a romantic click, obviously.
Harry shuddered at the idea.
In the meantime however, Harry couldn't see himself trusting Oriana, for all he knew, she had been a part of what was wrong with his magic- and senses.
Since there was most definitely outside influence in whatever was wrong with him, he was sure he had to investigate his mind. After all, the mind was a very easy place to control a person.
At the island, Harry had heard some whispers of forbidden mind arts, but had never looked into them, never feeling the need. The Elumvians were firm with privacy, and invading another's mind, their sanctuary, was a great act of treason against the isles.
And once Harry discovered whoever it was that had messed with his head and damaged his magical abilities- they would pay. He would make them pay. They would...suffer.
Already, the war-drums started to beat again, almost as loudly as they had once. Harry stored that little titbit of information away. It appeared, in extreme emotion, his body began to counter-attack these effects.
Harry headed to a certain room once he entered the Potter household. One of his sanctuaries when he'd been a child. The Potter library. Admittedly not too large, but possibly useful.
He thought back to an early lesson with the Elumvians- the lesson that had made him suspect that it had something to do with his mind.
The eight-year olds sat cross-legged on the ground. Since students constantly were entering, it was obvious to tell who had been on the island for a while, some students looking calm, some panicked.
Harry himself presented a composed appearance, despite being wary of the odd looks he was sent, being a full-blooded human.
The instructor entered, and any noise silenced itself.
"A history lesson, for the fools who believe that our people should rejoin the human magicians once again." The instructor shot a hateful glare at Harry.
Ah, a prejudiced instructor who'd formed his opinions of Harry before he'd even met him. Wonderful.
"The mind. The mind is your greatest asset, but it can also be a weakness beyond any other physical fault. There are arts that can penetrate your little skulls," sneered the instructor, "and dig out all your little secrets. That is why the Mind Arts are forbidden on these isles."
"For those curious, each island has specially designed wards that prevents outsiders from learning about the isles. Those of you who become connectors to the human world will have no need to fear about any discovering our location."
"Those wards however, do not stop your mind from being affected in any other way. There has often been the student who craves power and attempts to learn the Mind Arts. In the human world, many have learned these Arts, as they are much easier to learn about, and not as restricted. A true master of the Mind Arts can do nearly anything to a human."
"Your mind is responsible for nearly function in your body, save instinctual things, like breathing. However, some masters are capable of even doing things that you cannot naturally control, such as stopping the heart. In one famous case, a victim had his conscience and personality completely suppressed, thus making him a primitive being, relying on its instincts. And, unlike the forbidden human curse that creates similar effects, the mind arts are much more difficult to fight. Many of those who are subjected to the more, subtle powers of these arts can live on for the rest of their lives, never discovering that their mind has been altered."
"There was another case, hundreds of years ago, when our ancestors were beginning to be hunted by the humans, and one of our Elvin ancestors were captured by the humans. Instead of killing him, or torturing him, they...experimented on him."
"After all, killing was such a messy business, and who liked to hear the words genocide, so these hunters said: "Why eliminate the enemy, when you can neutralise it?" So, one master crushed the control centre of the elf's magic. And so, the "enemy" was neutralised."
"The elf, believing he had been set free, and of course, not knowing what had happened to him, and set off happily to rejoin his friends and family."
"The problem, you must be wondering? They were fools! The master crushed the elf's way of controlling magic, but nothing can break magic away from a magical being! The elf had magic aplenty- but no way to control it! Days after, the magic flung itself loose on everything in the area! The elf exploded, taking hundreds with him!"
"The humans discovered what happened, as did the Elves. The master who had crushed the control centre had died from magic exhaustion, underestimating the amount of power he needed to crush the control centre. But the humans did not stop! They persuaded more masters, and continued experimenting, trying to get rid of our ancestors without directly killing us, lest they risk outcry from genocide. And their only means of justification was that we could hide from the normal humans, but they couldn't hide from us, thus making us a threat."
"Even I cannot- and if I knew the entirety, I would not- tell you the full extent of the atrocities committed by the humans."
The instructor inhaled deeply. "The human curse I spoke of earlier is called the Imperious, which has similar controlling effects as the masters of the Mind Arts can exert, but it takes a truly powerful individual to break the control of a true master of the Mind Arts...Now get out of my class, the lot of you."
Harry had found something, and looked at the entry.
Mind Arts. See, Legilmency, Occlumency
Legilimency. The art of reading emotions and extracting memories.
That was it. But, f that one-time instructor was correct in what he said, could this be the least of the mind arts? The building blocks? After all, a young wizard could learn to levitate an object, but as they progress in age and skill, they could levitate heavier things, hold them for longer, and eventually, move the object without the use of other separate spells.
Occlumency. The art of defending the mind from external incursion and influence; mainly a defensive technique. See Legilimency.
Ah, now this could be useful. Influence. Influence was the only thing that could have damaged his mind. Extracting memories would not influence a person.
But still, the book left out key information. Would a person have to defend their mind constantly, or only when they were being attacked. How did you tell when someone was reading your mind? Did the victim also see the memories, or was it subtle enough that only the mind reader would see it? And most importantly, how the bleeding hell did someone damage his magic in this way without him noticing?
Harry slammed the book onto the table, causing a cloud of dust to waft into the air. He moved away from the dust, still angry. His magic, mind, and senses were failing him, and the only thing he had found in his quest was an old dictionary.
Harry tried to focus. The mind arts didn't seem to be forbidden here, but neither were they eagerly studied. And then Harry realised. Not being able to find anything, not many who could use them- clearly, most people hadn't even heard of the mind arts. Maybe there was some kind of library nearby where he could find the information he needed.
He attempted a staffless spell to put the dictionary back on the shelf- and it failed, dropping the book onto the floor.
Harry already knew that very few witches and wizards could perform wandless magic, and if they could, it was usually weak and not very practical. Harry would be at a great disadvantage to many magicians his age, as he had never used a wand- the thing was still sitting on his desk, gathering dust- and now he was being expected to jump into school.
He had been trained as a warrior, and was willing to bet everything he owned that the spells taught at Hogwarts would not include battle-type spells, but would include pointless spells.
In terms of magic, he was much more powerful than the average person, and could pick up spells considerably quickly. Now his magic advantage was lost. His enhanced senses were lost as well. Why, it was almost like-
It was almost like he was being made into an average sixteen-year-old.
And the average sixteen-year-old could be as rebellious and uncooperative as they wanted, but they were still dependent on adults.
I cut a lot out actually, mostly stuff to do with Quidditch. Quidditch isn't important. That's why they always cut it out of the movies.
