*A*I*M*
"Beyond all Sciences, Philosophies, Theologies and Histories - a child's relentless inquiry is truly all it takes
To remind us that we don't know as much as we think we know."
Adventures in Magick by Pseudonymous Entity
Summary: What if the first friend Harry made in the magical world was a goblin? Curious!Harry.
Characters: Harry Potter, Goblins, Twins, Blonds, Prefects, Scholars, Vampires, Accidental Masterminds
Warnings: Harry's curiosity, and luck, is somewhat awe inspiring. (Suggestions for additional warnings will be taken into consideration)
AN: As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.
ANx2: A few readers complained several chapters back about everything always working out for Harry and him not seeming to make any mistakes. I imagine they'll be rather satisfied with the next few chapters. The rest of you? Perhaps you'll forgive me in time. After all, if you know my stories well enough, you know I never do happy and fluffy without some darkened shadows and sharpened edges to go along with them.
I hope some of you are still interested in this little story of mine after so long an absence.
-Pseu
Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]
Ch. 29
"It's getting dark and it's all too quiet, and I can't trust anything now...
...Oh I'm holding my breath, won't lose you again, something's made your eyes go cold
Come on, come on don't leave me like this - Something's gone terribly wrong
Come on, come on don't leave me like this."
-Haunted
Harry stared at Draco from the foot of the medical bed.
This...wasn't supposed to happen. For the first time since beginning this fantastic adventure Harry realized it wasn't all fun in games. He'd let his mind flicker along the thought before, but now, with the reality before him, Harry was reminded of a fact of all great fantasy books: some of the characters died. He felt powerless. Like he was back in his cupboard with the world spinning on around him and he couldn't figure out a way to get the door open so he could make it stop. It wasn't fair. But, life wasn't meant to be fair. He knew. Harry of all people knew that. His hands curled slowly into his fists. But he wasn't powerless. Not anymore. Eyes aglow with determination, Harry reached inside his shirt and brought out his SIDRAT. Without a single thought to the consequences of his actions, Harry spun the dial.
He fell to feet and took off running. Shoes eerily quiet against the stone flooring. He darted by the other students as they made their way through the halls. Draco would be coming down to dinner. That meant he'd be in this hall over to the left with Terry Boot. He just needed to get there and see what happened to make him sick so he could stop- Harry tripped and fell forward. Hard. No no no. He pushed himself onto his hands, breathing hard. Startled. What happened? He glanced over his shoulder, no one was even looking at him. What on earth did he slip over? Draco! Harry's eyes widened and scrambled to his feet, running through the hall and ducking under other student's long legs. He could see Terry!
And...and...
He slid to a halt. Draco was already collapsed.
The small Slytherin narrowed his eyes. His hands pulled out his SIDRAT and spun the dial again. And again. Harry's feet would fall to the floor and he would dash, from different points in the castle, desperate to get a first-hand view of the even so he knew what to do to stop it from happening. He'd even tried showing up just outside the Ravenclaw tower. Each and every single time something happened to prevent Harry from getting to Draco in time. His frustration grew and he became more reckless with it, going back farther and waiting, or hiding in the Ravenclaw common room and attempting to follow his cousin out of it. But something always got in the way.
An unknown amount of time later Harry found himself in front of Draco's bed. His knees shook and he fell to them, breathing heavily. Beads of sweat collected and fell down his face, falling to the floor with muted drip-drops.
"Why can't I do it?" Harry wondered, begged almost.
"It's a fixed point in time." Harry's heart jumped in his chest. He tried to spin around and only managed to fall on his bum. Swallowing Harry tilted his head to meet the gaze of Professor Quirrell, who'd been standing behind him Tolkien knew how long. "For, whatever reason, Fate has decided this particular thing, this precise event, must happen. No amount of traveling time or meddling with it will change what you see before us. Mister Malfoy will always fall to the sickness."
Something hard and inflexible rose up in Harry at that, interlocking and surrounding him. A sort of shield against those horrible words, as if he could block them. Prevent them from touching him or having any effect on his reality. He hated those words, that truth. He refused it.
"I don't care." Whispered Harry.
He cleared his throat, making eye contact with his professor. "If I can't stop it from happening then I'll remove it."
He was on his feet with his hands on Draco's before Quirrell could stop him. Harry closed his eyes and felt for his magic as he had done twice before, and he ordered it to find Draco's and pull it away from whatever had hidden it away, from whatever was keeping it from healing its master. And his magic pulled. When Draco's magic reached for his Harry recognized it immediately. Joyous he reached out to pull it toward him only to nearly lose his grip on his own. Whatever had a hold of Draco's magic did not wish to release it. Frowning Harry quickly thought up another idea.
He reached out with his magic and started pulling. If what the goblins told him was correct than his magic would latch on to the one thing that might give him enough power to yank Draco's magic away from the illness. Hogwarts wards. The moment they connected he felt it. Magic moving into and through him, stronger, wilder. But it was so much. He couldn't control the flow. Helpless, Harry's magic warred with that of thousands of years of built up ambient magic, of a thousand years worth of layers and protections. He tried to catch it and hold it within himself long enough to latch it onto Draco's. He only needed it to pull it to him and then he'd let it ago. He only...only...needed.
Harry's eyes fluttered open. He was on the floor again.
"You're not a vegetable. That's a good sign." His green eyes flickered to the side. Quirrell knelt beside him, curtained in dark gray silk. A long finger hand came into view and Harry allowed his Defense Instructor to pull him to his feet.
"Perhaps now -before you have a moment to collect yourself and try something dangerous and experimental- I should let you know that Mister Malfoy's position is different from that of the others."
Harry's entire body stiffened. "What does that mean?"
"It means, Black, that this illness just so happens to have targeted members of Ravenclaw. It means it just happens to have infected your cousin, a Ravenclaw, with a unique and weak immune system. It means this illness or person or whatever it may be, has some element to it that just manages to be particularly disastrous to Mister Malfoy himself. Weakening him more quickly and alarmingly than his fellow students." Quirrell's gaze flicked over him. "Do you understand?"
He nodded, numb. "It's on purpose. All of this...it was to get to him. To get to Draco, wasn't it? Someone wanted him to get infected."
Quirrell only tilts his head. "You should know that idea was clever. Very clever. However, your body could not handle the strain of being a conductor for the wars. You don't have the strength to direct that kind of power, it weighs again your very life force to do so." Here he paused as if he were considering very carefully what he would say next.
"I don't care!" Harry burst out again. He'd never been rude to Quirrell before, but he needed him to understand. "What can I do?"
"As a first year, there really isn't-"
"Don't," Harry said. "You know what I can do, I know you do. You know all about obscure magics and read books they don't even have in the scholar's research room. You always know exactly what I mean when I'm rambling on about theories and Professor Snape bothers to have conversations with you, and that means you're clever enough to understand what he's talking about. If anyone knows it's you. So... don't tell me I'm a kid and I can't. Tell me the truth." The last bit coming out as an order.
A single brow rose and something, something glistened in those eyes. "Technically at eleven you have more life force to sacrifice than an adult but your core, regaurdless of its strength or depth, is still underdeveloped compared to an adult. It is not yet...stabilized." Quirrell walked in a circle around Harry, hands moving more quickly as he spoke. "You would need three lifetime's worth of life force I think to even hope to remain conscious long enough to direct the magic from the wards. To do so without damaging your body or depleting your life force. You are no use to anyone if you..." He paused. "...die...before you manage to complete your task."
Quirrell glanced around the room. Harry wondered if he thought the other staff might disapprove of this line of conversation. They certainly wouldn't have taken it as lightly as he seemed to be. He hadn't even taken points or given him a detention.
"I need more life force." Harry murmured. His mind raced with the new information. He had been thinking of experiments, hadn't he? To see if someone enhance their ability with certain magicks. Could he use that same idea to strength himself? To stabilize his core? Harry began pacing, Quirrell momentarily forgotten. He needed to stretch out his life force. His lifespan. But how to do it? What could he use? What metals or elements? Harry waved thanks to his teacher and exited the room with only a glance back at Draco. He needed to focus.
Harry spent his time in the Hogwarts Library and the scholar's research room which held its own impressive collection of books and scrolls. So used to his presence were the others that they all assumed he was set to one task or another by Sloth. Not one person questioned what exactly the young Slytherin was researching, or why.
They should have.
For after reading through books and diagrams of anatomy, after memorizing tendons and bones in the hands and wrist, after looking up the properties of metals and their effects on the body and within it, Harry stood from his desk intending to grab yet another tome when it happened. A slim book fell to the floor. Harry blinked and reached down for it. A journal Quirrell had given him some time back after hearing about Harry's interest in alternative foci and enhancing one's magic through manipulation of elements within the body. A book about the history of sacrificial magicks and rituals with the sole purpose of altering and enhancing one's self.
Harry stared at it. How could he have forgotten it?
He sat slowly, the other books all but forgotten. He pulled a notebook toward him to scribble in as he flipped through the book. A ritual. He could create a ritual to extend his lifespan in order to accommodate the requirement of such a large amount of magic passing through him. He could use it to stabilize his core, force it to mature even so he wouldn't have to worry about it becoming destabilized. Surely there was a way. And that would prevent unnecessary damage to his body and mind while he separated Draco's magic from the illness so it could start repairing some of the damage. Maybe he could even lock the illness away or siphon it out of Draco.
Harry's mind reeled, a smile widening along his face after so long with even a small one.
He knew, after all, that many wizards had experimented with gaining longer lives. Hadn't he spoken to Quirrell about Flamel not too long ago? A philosopher's stone wasn't the only way to achieve his aims. He didn't want to have to continuously brew the elixir to maintain his lifespan and keep his core stable. No. Harry needed a ritual to make it permanent, ever enduring. He wanted to be certain he'd never be too weak ever again. Green eyes roamed through page after page, his hand bringing the quill along his notebook quickly. He could do this. He knew he could. Harry could create a ritual to force his core to mature and stabilize, and at the same time give him an endless amount of life force to use to direct as much power as he needed, to save Draco now and for anything that may happen in the future.
Because Harry -in the midst of his panic and desperation- knew that he would do anything for his friends.
The answer was here somewhere in this book. And besides, as Draco had said, what harm can come from reading a book?
Pseudonymous Entity
2018
Notes: Thoughts? Guesses? Questions? Theories? Limericks?
AN: Our Defense professor has uncanny timing, doesn't he? It was almost like he knew exactly what conclusion poor little Harry would come to... XD
Post Script: Wanted to wait and post the next few chapters as super long ones, but it's been so long and I felt so guilty I went ahead and fashioned this smaller one for you, so maybe the wait for he next chapter [which is almost ready to post] won't be so horrid? That is of course if any of you are still reading after so long away. I am so sorry about that. There is a lot going on in my life, and I am doing everything I can to balance it out so I can write and post stories. Not only for my lovely readers, but because writing is my therapy when dealing with the trials and tribulations of my own life. It is cathartic to sort of live out different scenarios through the eyes of various characters from one of my favourite stories as a child. I hope I haven't let you down. -Pseu
-Ever Yours. Pseu
