Updated 4/23/2020
Piers was chasing him so close, he felt Piers breath on his neck. Grubby hands tugged at his shirt collar just as the last door opened. With a final push, Harry threw himself in the library and heard his shirt tear. The door's bell rang like sanctuary's call. The librarian looked up from her book and glared at Piers. The door slowly shut behind him.
"I'll get you next time Potter." Piers, Dudley's friend and school bully said.
"Young man if you're going to hide out here then at least find a book to take home." The librarian commanded. Harry nodded sweaty and tired. From his school to the library was a kilometer. They'd chased him like hungry hounds after a stag. A cough from the librarian and a glance at the door sent him on.
Harry walked down the shelves dedicated to adventure. Books of all kinds covered the rows. Some large other small. One book caught his eye. It was average in every aspect of the word. To Harry it was perfect. The title read "Uplifting Through Cultivation," at the time Harry had no idea what the words meant.
It was half past three and Harry had only thirty minutes to claim the book and get home. He flipped the book open and read the first page. Then the next, then the next ten, and the next thousand. Harry read about the lives of great men who cultivated powers beyond imagining. Some started off weak while others held great power from the beginning.
An indeterminable amount of time passed in Harry's perspective. Only after he finished the last page did he remember the clock. The time was forty-five after three. He'd just been at this for fifteen minutes. But that was impossible. He'd just finished chaptered 6999. Harry stood frozen a stag caught under a spotlight.
Harry made his way to the library's front desk with the mysterious book in hand. In between the book's cover were adventures of epic proportion. In this book were beings who cultivated essence. They could surpass heaven and earth, slay dragons, and cast down demons. He'd read of the legendary warriors and how they surpassed human limits.
Even knowing it was foolish, Harry wanted to be one of them. "Ah, you're ten. Are you sure your old enough to read such a complicated book?" The librarian asked. He looked up and she flashed for a second. The librarian was suddenly a massive collection of tentacles and eyes. As he stared his eyes widened and he felt himself drawn into something deep and unknowable.
"Careful young man if you stare for too long, you'll make me self-conscious." The elderly librarian said. "Now, get home boy and enjoy your adventure. Mobby Dick is a very thrilling tale."
He examined his book only to discover it was a copy of Moby dick. The librarian calmly added his name to the slip inside and sent him off.
Harry was dejected after leaving the library without his prize. All he had left of the book were memories.
"Harry go to your cupboard and don't make a sound. Vernon has some important clients coming today and I won't have you bothering them." She took his arm and forced him in the tiny room. The force of her push knocked him back a few steps making him trip over his mattress. The door quickly shut leaving only the tiny light on inside. He heard the door click leaving him trapped.
At first, he paced around the tiny room and tried to read Moby Dick, but it was not what he wanted. Harry wanted to read about powerful immortals battling each other for limited resources. A book about a mad captain hunting down a wale didn't do it for him. It wasn't the adventure of millennia that he craved. A thought occurred to him. He'd heard of live action role playing. People in America reenacted the civil war, why can't he try to live through his own battles.
He sat down crossed legged on the bed but couldn't focus with the light on. With an irritated huff he turned his only source of light off and closed his eyes. Like his hero he focused on the essence of the heavens and the earth and focused on pulling them into himself. He needed to gather it into his body and construct his spiritual sea.
Just as he imagined he'd felt something, a drunken peel of laughter knocked him out of his concentration. He remembered his hero and how an illusionary demon plucked out his eyes and tortured him. To surpass the mortal limit, a qi expert had to sever themselves from the mortal realm while they gathered essence.
This time when he closed his eyes and focused on the power of heaven and earth, he felt something. Now all he had to do was pull it to himself. Hours had passed and Harry didn't know if he was growing crazy or if his imagination was just that good. He continued to pull bringing the essence closer. The second it touched his skin he felt agony.
Sweat poured from his body as thick as cheese. As his focus on the essence shattered, he started to smell himself. It was like he'd never taken a bath before. His skin was covered in a putrid substance.
He was in trouble. Somehow his freakishness had hit an all new level. He was able to mimic the hero from the book he'd somewhat read in day. Now he was covered in a disgusting mesh of his body's toxins and dead flesh. His skin hurt and itched. He scratched at himself filling his nails with masses of filth.
Harry froze as a realization swept over him.
This was a symptom of entering the early refinery stage. The book he'd read had several smaller books inside. He'd read thousands of pages but at the time hadn't thought anything of it. Harry shook his head shaking off thoughts of freakishness.
There was a way to check and see if he was on the right path. He had to look within himself at the qi he'd just absorbed. If he could refine the strand into a purer form, he'd be at the refinery level.
In for a penny in for a pound as they say. Harry wanted to be like Remnant Malik and break through his limit. He focused inwardly meditating through the irritation, stink, and general greasy feeling.
Harry didn't see with his eyes and feel with his senses. Through another alien sense, he became aware of the olive strand of qi twisting through his body. Without sight he couldn't see color, but it was determined by his sixth sense that it was olive. Olive was a bad thing, black was the worst that was the color of complete impurity or waste. Olive was only the second worst color for absorbed qi. Fortunately, he knew how to deal with it.
The book he read had taught him several refinery techniques. He had to force it back out of his body and absorb it again. His body was the filter for now until he reached the first stage of refinery. If he was less moral, he'd use the Dursleys as a filter.
Why not use the Dursleys as a filter? Was it wrong?
He'd never asked a question like that in his life. It was because of his freakishness that they beat him. He was abnormal and deserved to be treated as a freak. He should be thankful that anyone would take someone like him in.
Those thoughts had been a part of him, there were built into his foundation. Now they were distant. Don't stand out and be normal. Those were his marching orders for the day to day. But he followed those to the letter and was still punished. It was his fault because he couldn't be like other children.
Then why fake it? Never had he thought to ask why. That wasn't true he was always shut down. Never question the Dursleys or you'll get punished.
He was always punished anyway. When Harry appeared on rooftops, turned his teacher's hair blue, and healed too quickly, there was no such thing as magic. Well that wasn't true qi was a type of magic.
His mind felt odd. Was it the qi, did it alter his mind? It was qi that made mortals into immortals. Immortals were violent killers who constantly fought over scarce cultivation resources. It was through battle that the worthy immortals grew stronger and the weaker ones died.
Harry put those thoughts aside. Before he gathered more essence, he had to purify his one strand of qi. Slowly, he pushed a portion of the olive strand out of his body. He cycled it then drew it back in. The shade of qi grew a little lighter and more filth painfully excreted from his pours.
He worked at it until morning growing more accustomed to his new sixth sense. By the time he heard a hand on the lock the qi strand had become a light green color. The qi was free of impurities and latched on to his frame. It began to rotate within him. Filth oozed from his body in streams, as his frame grew even more emaciated. On the bright side his body was bursting with energy. If his calculations were correct, he was as strong as a horse now. He could push Uncle Vernon's car in neutral with ease.
The cupboard door opened, and the smell of his progress was unleashed. Aunt Petunia covered her face when the smell hit her and screamed. Harry knew it was a night well spent after the reaction. A faint smiled spread across his lips as he stood up from his meditation position. Harry felt a jarring sensation of as his bones popped from movement. He felt great, lighter than a feather and hungrier than a bear after hibernation.
He took a step out of the cupboard into the sunlight when Uncle Vernon waddled after him his shirt covering his face.
"Don't take another bloody step. We took you in and tolerated your freakishness, but it ends here. Not another step through our house. How did this happen?" Harry took a step back from his uncle.
"I don't know it just happened." Harry lied.
Vernon took off his suite and put on a set of gloves. There was a look of determination on his face as he lifted Harry up like a hat and carried him outside.
"Pet toss me a bar of soap." Vernon looked around making sure the no one was peaking over the fence.
"Vernon you'll be late for work let the freak," Vernon held up his hand silencing Petunia.
Vernon turned on the hose. "Harry hold up your arms." He'd never seen this side to his uncle. He obeyed, and Vernon quickly hosed him down before handing him bar of soap. "Scrub yourself until your clean enough to get in the shower."
"Vernon why are you being nice to him?" Petunia asked in a harsh whisper.
"He obviously kept it in until this morning. I just signed a deal with a Mythotech to make a new type of drill. Grunnings now has a ten-year contract to look forward to. A messy nephew is hardly a cause for concern." Uncle Vernon said.
"Where are they drilling?" Harry asked.
"See the boy is already becoming more normal. This was just a hiccup pet." Vernon turned to Harry with a grin on his walrus mustache and tiny scales on his upper lip. Harry blinked the apparition away.
"They're drilling in the south west pacific far from land. Our drills must work underwater at extreme depths. Grunnings is making a mint. I'm going to rack up so many commissions." Vernon cheered as he rinsed off Harry.
"Do you think you'll be mentioned if they find oil? That could put your name further out." Harry asked.
"See pet he's becoming more normal every day. Now as our guests said last night 'Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn' cheers." Vernon said in a very British dialect.
Well uncle, I think I'm ready for a shower. Vernon let him through, and Harry quickly jumped into the shower. He'd never heard of his uncle's phrase or what it meant.
Half a day later and he was on the playground rapidly reading through Moby Dick. The story was a battle between man and the ultimate obsession. Man lost at the end destroyed himself. It was a lesson on both wale arcana and why obsessions can be dangerous.
He shut the book and let most of the information fall from his mind. He wanted to become a qi expert and immortal. Nothing in this world would stand in his way. Harry had already stepped upon the path of the qi expert. Before age twenty he'd reach platform level. But before age eleven he'd set his goal to reach the peak of refinement level.
The problem was cleanliness. Cultivation hammered the impurities from the body. If he wanted to get further, he'd need a way to clean himself discreetly after meditation.
"Look Duds isn't that your cousin, didn't you say shite himself this morning?" Piers asked in a superior tone.
Piers was here to bully him. If not for this reason he'd find another.
"I don't think it's a good idea to bother him, Dad wasn't mad at him for it." Dudley said.
"No, let's chase him until he pisses himself." Piers charged at Harry. Harry bent his legs and skipped forward. Every step seemed to carry his light body several meters.
Piers cut into a dead sprint behind him and Harry skipped forward again. It felt as if the bounds of gravity would release their hold on him, if he fought hard enough. Unfortunately, they snapped back just a few feet from the ground. He continued to skip around the playground trying to jump and gain more air. His max was a half a meter.
Harry looped around and spotted Piers. This was his chance to get back at him. For once he'd be the one doing the chasing.
As Harry ran Piers never looked heard a sound. Dudley shouted a warning, but it was too late. Harry smashed into Piers at full speed. A grin lit his face. Piers fell onto the gravel and skidded to a painful stop. His neck hit the lip of a slide and made a wet cracking sound. Harry met Dudley's terrified eyes.
Piers tried to get up and couldn't his neck had bent at an odd angle. Tears ran down the blond boy's face from either pain or terror. A clinical part of Harry reasoned it could be both. As his tormenter struggled futilely to rise, Harry realized he'd gone too far.
What had he done? It happened so quickly. All he wanted was a little pay back, some revenge. He wanted to knock Piers over and hurt him, but this was more than Harry bargained for.
He had to do something to fix this. He'd harmed a mortal for no reason. Piers had become Harry's first collateral.
Suddenly, something warm in Harry's chest flared and he felt as if everything would be ok. He reached down to do something when white light suddenly lanced from Harry's body. With a snap Piers' neck was back to normal. But Piers' eyes were glassy, and he wasn't breathing. Harry had fixed the broken neck as best as he understood how. Unfortunately, Piers didn't have magic of his own to assist in the healing.
He'd acted without thinking again. Piers the bully that chased him with Dudley was dead.
Harry waited in a chair much too large for him for a constable to question him. He'd done nothing since arriving other than sit and think. They left him alone there were plenty of eyewitnesses. Harry cursed himself. He was ten not five how could he have done something so foolish. Why had he trusted his feelings? Sure, he wanted to fix his mistake but what if he also wanted to get rid of Piers for good. Before today, he'd been chased by the boy maybe he killed him on purpose.
Emotions and feelings couldn't be trusted weren't they what caused everything. He was scared so he teleported to the roof, he was nervous when called on, so he turned his teacher's hair blue. Now all the attention was turned on him again. If Piers was still alive, it might not have been too bad. That feeling promised it'd fix Peers and it had in a way.
He'd used a power that wasn't cultivation. It was a power he didn't control. "Obliviate," he heard a voice whisper. The door to his waiting room opened and a man in red robes stepped forward. Harry didn't expect to see anyone in the robes of a puppeteer. Harry looked around not seeing the man's puppet.
"Little guy my name is Rusty Shackleford and I'm here under Ministry orders to cover this little altercation up. To do my job, I need to ask you a few questions. Are you of sound mind to answer?" Mr. Shackleford asked.
"What do you do for the ministry sir?" Harry asked.
"I'll be the one asking the questions young man." The man snapped. Harry went silent.
The man continued. "The diagnostic charms indicate your intent was to heal young man, but muggles don't often take well to healing magic. We've already erased every file on the boy and the higher ups obliviated everyone who found out your name. Before I send you home, can you tell me why the kid had to die."
"He was a bully. Unless you stood up to him or fled, he often demanded lunch money. If you refused, he'd steal your homework, break you stationary, or spit in your food. There are many who hated him. I just wanted to hurt him a little." Harry said.
"Did it feel good young man to hold all the power for once? Why did you bother trying to heal a muggle in the first-place young man?" Mr. Shackleford asked.
"I just wanted payback." Harry said.
"This is why you go to the authorities with your problems young man. If you'd told a teacher would Piers have died? Harry knew the answer to that.
"No sir, the teachers don't care. He would have kept bullying." Harry said.
The man frowned and wrote something on a piece of parchment. Before standing up.
"It's above my pay grade. Whoever is backing you has made sure none of us leave here with your identity. Have a good day young man."
As it was said no one remembered Piers. The day after the incident school was the same. There was a vacant desk where Piers had been, and Harry quickly realized why. Perhaps this was a service due to immortals. They removed the proof of the death of mortals. Nothing in the immortal realm was truly free. There was now a karma debt between himself and the ministry.
Author's note
Thank you for reading up to this point. This story is more of an experiment with a cultivation system I'm trying out. If you have any suggestions leave a review or PM me. I know a lot of the plot was tied up quickly here and that was the point.
There are overreaching consequences for what happened, and I know a playground death is kind of jarring. I mentioned that Harry was a strong as a horse in the first stage of refinery. That strength is reflected into speed and Harry at age ten doesn't have much forethought or control.