First day of classes dawned bright and early. Hadrian woke up and cast a monitoring spell on himself with his wand. It came back better than he expected. He had no lasting effects from the Crucio. Last night, he'd retreated to the room of requirement to heal his wounds. He couldn't show up to Gryffindor Tower shaking like a wreck. To hi surprise, his cherry wand was specifically good at calming nerves, and even with a dose of the Dark Lord's crucio, he was not shaking at all the next morning. It was just awful at repairing bruises. His wounds were fixed but the brown blob on his hip just would not disappear.
He had woken earlier than both the other boys. The second spell he cast was a silencing charm. He got ready for his daily necromancy exercises. Rebirth was not a happy-ever-after thing, for the only thing that was preserved was his memories—and personality, to some extent. His magic was still essentially the same, as it was his soul that had been naturally recycled and given to a new body. But just because he was born with power and the knowledge to cast spells didn't mean he could do it. When he was just born, he barely knew how to see. Sounds were strange, light more so. He could not move his fingers in enough coordination to poke his own foot, or adjust a blanket, much less cast advanced spells.
He had to train himself, teach himself again, practicing all the time. It was difficult, more so because he was starting out wandless. But he could not buy a wand from Olivanders without arousing suspicion and simply stealing a wand would be next to impossible if he could not do magic. So it was with wandless magic that he started. He concentrated every single day repeating incantations and imagining magic. It took a year. An entire year and two months, before he cast his first incendio. Then another month came wingardium leviosa. Soon, all the other first year and simple transfigurations and charms came to him. His magical core had not developed fully, as his physical body was not strong enough to house that much energy.
He was really, well, weak.
But the one magic he did have, native to him, that did not require physical poweress and a certain level of physical maturity, was Speech. Necromancers were famous for their ability to communicate with the dead. Hadrian was afraid of it at first, believing the tales that said the dead ghosts called on actually preyed on the life of the living necromancer and that is why they were able to appear. A necromancer was a walking ritual. Instead, speech with the dead was a natural magic, surprisingly similar to parseltongue. It was passed down in bloodlines, can also be used for many dark rituals, and best of all, was inherent and intuitive.
Spirits, as Hadrian had discovered from conversations with the dead as well as his own trip beyond, had great freedom in the great beyond. They could travel wherever they wanted, for as long as they wanted. It was not quite the same as being alive, as they could only talk in spiritspeak, which mostly only other spirits could understand. It turned out that not all spirits could understand each other, only those that were on the same… wavelength, as it were. A wavelength was basically a parallel dimension, only felt by those in it at the time. It was a blessing for spirits who wanted peace and solitude to drift in solace, or for ghosts who wished to join a jolly good gathering in the great beyond. Everyone was in the same space and time (neither of those things existed in the great beyond, Hadrian had found) but no one disturbed one another.
Spiritspeak was something you could communicate in with no boundaries whether physical or spiritual if you wanted a message to get across, it did. Instantly. It was something you could only communicate using your soul, as when you were a spirit and all you had was your soul.
Necromancers could somehow spiritspeak and communicate with the dead. They had a sort of automatic frequency adjuster that they could use to "feel" the vibes in a certain place, and tap into that frequency, to speak with the spirits that felt like being in their own spacetime. However, Necromancers were bound by space and time as they had physical bodies. Time passed for them even though it did not for their companions.
All this to say that as soon as Harry could speak, by the age of one, he would close his eyes and reach for his necromancy powers, despite not having any wizard powers. All he had to do was meditate and then he could sort of "float" into the world of the dead, the Otherworld. There were many frequencies of existence there, and if one in particular feltl "right", like a hook in his mind, he could pull on it. And when he opened his eyes then, a spirit would appear that only he could see and hear, and he could talk to it.
He did this everyday as it was great practice for his focus. And he could learn all sorts of interesting things from the spirits. Cooking recipies from the times of the Egyptians, gossip on the old world's leaders, and majestic spellcasting from the times of Ancient Chinese Empire.
In Hogwarts, he could feel the castle buzzing with the energy of the Otherworld. The concentration of magic as well as the amount of memories in this place would make it very attractive to a variety of spirits.
That morning, as Harry "floated" he felt many things reaching out for him. There were many "hooks" he could choose to go on. But one in particular caught his inner eye, as it does. He opened his eyes to see a beautiful young girl with her legs tucked under her materialize on his bed.
He looked around, but it seemed she was the only one on this frequency. She desired aloneness then?
"Hello. I hope I am not disturbing you. I am Hadrian, a necromancer of the Evangelica-Valduez line."
She stared at him with wide, doe-like eyes. Then she screamed. A piercing scream that hit him. When he blinked. And she was right in his face, her teeth were all jagged lines of sharp, flesh-tearing bone that descended upon him. She was only blue incandescence but Hadrian could feel the deep chill she induced as she tried to devour him whole. Stumbling, he tried to close his eyes and exit the frequency. But her screams and gralls were distracting and Harry felt himself shifting, trying to run away. He couldn't run, or course, it would just be to his dormates and they would not be able to see what he was seeing.
He knew spirits like hers. Ones that were lost. They suffered such tragic deaths that they emulate their attackers either in denial or in revenge. They would not move on. And any frequency they inhabited was not empty because they wanted solitude, but simply because no one else wanted to be there.
He knew there were necromancers that dedicated their lives to freeing spirits like hers. Some went mad. Some trapped in the dimension and there for so long with nothing but their screams for company.
Then was where necromancy practice came in. Concentrating his power and shifting his hands, Harry said a word of power and drew a rune in the air. The shape remained in the air, a glowing thing in front of his face. When she descended for another attack, it stretched under her force, but did not break. She gave a cry of fury.
He was lucky. This one was weak and had never encountered this rune before. The sneaky old spirits who had known magic in their lifetime could break apart even the best necromancer's defences.
Harry could try to control her and banish her to another frequency, but that was always the last resort. It took too much power. It was likely how the muggle superstition of exorcism started. But it was painful. Both for the spirit and the necromancer.
While the rune held, Harry added another effect with a second word of power, this one would give off visual illusions of tiny sparks. Just casting that left Harry drained. Closing his eyes stubbornly, he willed himself back to floating. And there was some resistance. Harry saw that the avenging spirit had created a shell of emotion surrounding this frequency so he could not leave. With a breath of his own magic, he dissolved the barrier as it crumbled under his power. Then, he forced his mind to move into floating and then away from that place.
Panting, he opened his eyes to an empty bed. Slightly paranoid, he looked around. Then he cast a detection charm, very useful spell he picked up from a spirit that was a necromancer ten thousand years ago, if any spirits were nearby. Only when the spell came up negative, did he relax. He collapsed back onto his bed, blankets a mess around him in his one-sided tussle.
"Oh god." He groaned.
His clothes stuck to him, soaked in sweat. His hands were shaking and his breath was uneven. Holding out his Cherry wand, he waved it in the same pattern that cured his cruciatus exposure. The tremors stopped, the spell was amplified tenfold by his wand. He grinned. He waved the wand again to get rid of the sweat. Nothing happened.
Harry stared at his wand.
Was it giving him attitude?
That was ridiculous.
He sighed and peeled his clothes off. He still had time for a shower before breakfast anyways.
~*~ Dark Rituals ~*~
The boys dormitory was practically all space, with only three beds. Dean, Ron, and Harry had the entire place to themselves and Ron has wasted no time in plastering posters of flying men in orange robes zooming everywhere. Dean had been so shocked at the moving pictures that he had almost forgotten to put his own soccer posters up so they were a little squished in between the flying ones. Harry had caught Ron poking the muggle posters, trying to get them to move.
They had half-heartedly tried to make plans to bring a table and a TV (once it was explained to Ron) and he suggested a wizarding wireless. They also contemplated everything from a mini quidditch pitch (also had to be explained) to ball pit. It gave them a good laugh even if it wouldn't happen, with the amount of classes they had.
And speaking of classes, Dean and Ron were awful at getting to them. They couldn't tell left from right or up from down as they ran down the staircases. Some went down only to come up again and swung to connect to bits that went in a completely different direction than you started with. Harry knew the way, but didn't have the heart to do any bossing around so early in the morning, and was content to walk bemused behind the two boys.
When the boys finally managed to get themselves downstairs, the red and gold table was full. Hermione and a girl named Parvati were already enjoying breakfast. They had saved them seats. When Hermione saw them she waved.
"I can't wait for classes." Was Hermione's greeting. Parvati rolled her eyes. Being the only two Gryffindor girls that year, they were forced to spend a lot of time together. But Parvati couldn't seem to care less about class, peeking at an issue of witch weekly under the breakfast table.
"Morning Hermione, Parvati." Harry said dutifully. Dean chimed the same greeting while Ron turned a strange colour behind his mouthful of eggs and ham.
"Ew. Gross!" Parvati screeched. "You don't have to say hi, it's fine." She said hurriedly.
Ron and the rest of the Gryffindors looked relieved, though for different reasons.
"We have transfiguration first, with the hufflepuffs. Then charms with the ravenclaws. And herbiology-"
"Hermione, we know our schedule. All first years have the same one." Parvati said bored, having heard this speech a couple of times.
"Let's go to them together. Hermione, you can show us the way." Harry said. More for Ron and Dean's sake than his. But from the look Hermione shot him, he may have helped one extra person.
~*~HPLV~*~
Transfiguration with McGonnagall was interesting, as she demonstrated advanced transfiguration as well as the animangus transformation. With a jolt, Harry realized that though he had been practicing casting every second, he had not even tried for an animangus form. That had been a magic he had not mastered in his previous life either.
He had remembered suggesting it to Tom, to make it a race to see who could achieve it the fastest—in one weekend. But to his disappointment, the boy had already figured out how to do it. But try as he might, he could not get the young dark lord to show him, or tell him his animal.
"What's the point of being an animal if everyone knowsit's you?" Tom inquired with a smirk.
"Well, you'd be awfully cute." Hadrian said.
Harry still remembered the way the boy had glared at him for that.
"I know what you're trying to do."
"You are! You are something cute! A kitten?" Hadrian had been quick. "No. I got it. You're a hamster! A cute little-"
Tom moved to curse him but Harry had already blocked. Abandoning their magic, it turned into a wrestling match while they rolled on the floor.
Harry had forgotten all about it. Until now.
He would need instruction on it, of course. It would be easier with an animangus' help. But it wasn't like he'd ask Tom. The man was smug enough already about how he was a child. If he came asking for lessons, Harry could imagine the way Tom's head would swell. No, he would find another instructor, or a book. That was how Tom figured it out anyways.
In fact, he could head to the library tonight after dinner.
The next class was charms. Harry absolutely adored Flitwick. The man taught well, was amazingly knowledgeable on theory, and had a flair to his spellcasting that was breathtaking. Harry could honestly say the man's charms were on par with the Dark Lord, perhaps even better, for Tom had great control and fineness, but he tended to rely on his strength. This little guy had control, yes, but he also knew how to shape his magic just enough and then let go.
"How cool is Flitwick." Harry said, awestruck out of that class.
"I know!" Hermione was agreeing exuberantly. "And when I got my feather to float on the first try…"
"Did you see how he squealed?"
Harry laughed with all of them as Ron and Dean did a enactment of the excitable professor. With his heart soaring, they headed to lunch.
A/N: Thanks to my reviewers. This one is for you. I have published a one-shot of Harry/Tom on my profile. Check it out.
