Of Mind and Magic
Chapter 4
Harry sat cross-legged on the rug in the attic, the first rays of the rising sun shining through the half-moon window before him, casting its warm glow onto him as well as the tables on either side of him.
With his hands making a small circle in his lap, he released a breath allowing the outside world to fade away around him.
A sensation as if he was falling backwards swept through his body.
–XX –
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a dark void with two large rivers of energy floating in the air above him. One was a thick swirling whirlpool of dark midnight blue, while the other was a raging River of light blue almost white energy.
Following the river with his eyes, he saw the two strings merged becoming a light blue like crystal clear water
A frown slipped onto his features, according to his mother's books, this was his inner world. What he was looking at was the mental representation of his psychic power and magic. He stretched his hand towards the light blue almost white energy a familiar warmth settling over him.
He stretched his other hand towards the other energy. It felt cold and faint whispers filled his ears.
Removing his hands from the energy, his energies were equally balanced, but unlike his magic, he had neglected using his psychic energies. The ancient one had only been able to teach him so much to do with that part of his power.
He was lucky if his father would've been anyone else, his psychic power would have withered from disuse and he would've had to build it up again, or maybe it was because his magic and psychic energies were intertwined so tightly.
To achieve true balance he needed to find a teacher.
Turning towards the blue whirlpool that represented his psychic energy he shoved both hands into it, in a moment he was swept along the current the whispers becoming louder as he reached the point where the two energies merged.
Loud voices pounded in his head like sledgehammers. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to block out the noise while also trying to remember what his father told him when he discovered Harry had inherited his psychic talents.
Focusing his will, he set about creating blocks to shield him from outside influence, instead of relying on his magic's natural protection. He felt the psychic whirlpool flare.
A cool power rushed through his body, different than his magic. It imparted to him strength of will, instead of the unlimited potential of creation magic provided.
New ideas formed in his mind on how to use the energy, but he shoved them to the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand.
For what seemed like hours, he floated in the crystal clear blue colored energy. When he finally opened his eyes, he was in the center of a circular maze. Glancing around the luminescent walls of energy, his eyes locked onto the only entrance to the center of the maze. Focusing his will, a section of the floor made of the same translucent energy vanished.
Floating down the hole, he imagines spikes protruding everywhere around him tearing a person's mind to shreds. At the very bottom, he willed a larger serpent into existence. He stared into the creature's yellow eyes, imparting it's one and only task to it.
Anyone that fell down the chute, the basilisk was to eat and feed the person's knowledge to him.
With that done, he slowly released a breath opening his eyes.
–XX –
He found he was floating two feet off the ground. Slowly unwinding his legs, he flexed his hand. Though he had only constructed mental barriers, he felt lighter somehow, like an unused part of him had been reawakened.
He shook his head, glancing at the tables on either side of him, either way he wasn't going to be able to learn much by himself. He was going to have to find a teacher. He thought back to the parchment with his family tree on it. Jean Grey was supposed to be his father's other dimensional counterpart, whatever that meant, did that mean she had psychic powers too. If so would she consent to train him?
Walking around the table, his gaze fell on the hairs he took from the woman in leather.
That was something to think about later, right now he had a mission to find the girl that attacked Victoria Montesi. Part of him wanted to leave it alone, part of him said that it was Montesi's problem not his, but a larger part of him said that there was something bigger going on. Besides if there was someone out there who could make others immune to magic, then he was vulnerable, especially in his current condition.
With his back to the bookshelf, Harry let his gaze swim over the shelves of potion and ritual ingredients. What should he do first, create a weapon, or craft the tracking spell.
Weapon first, he decided. If he was going to hunt down someone that was immune to his magic, he needed an edge.
Raising a hand, a bar of silver floated towards him, along with a jar of Dragon scales, basilisk venom, and an ink pot along with an assortment of brushes.
Just as the ingredients settled on the table, a bell rang through the house.
Harry tensed, energy gathering around him. No one but Miss Montesi knew he was here, and she didn't seem the type to visit. Slowly, he sent his will outward's forming it into a psychic probe not powerful enough to read whoever was here's thoughts, but powerful enough to tell him their intentions.
If they were here, that meant they knew who he was and at least some of his abilities, the last thing he wanted to do was get trapped in a mental battle with an unknown.
Finding mental shields, but no hostile intent, he glanced down at himself, taking in the white button-down shirt, and dark slacks with bare feet poking out the bottom.
Shrugging, he ran a hand through his dark red hair while making his way to the door. They were visiting him in his home unannounced. They could excuse his state of dress.
–XX –
Striding down the main staircase, Harry allowed his hand to glide along the curved banister while his eyes stayed locked on the front door. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he wrapped himself in an invisible barrier of psychic power, manipulating the energy running along his hands to act as a psychic probe when he touched whoever it was on the other side of the door.
Physical contact should allow him to break through the mental barriers protecting his visitors mind and give him the upper hand just long enough to subdue them.
Stopping at the door, he peered out the hole in its center, taking in the pale skinned dark haired man on the other side. Grabbing the handle, he pulled the door open, keeping his face a blank mask, "Can I help you?"
The man removed his hands from his dark blazer pockets, "Hadrian John Grey?" He asked.
"That depends on who's asking."
"I am Strong; I work for Jamison's bank. I'm here to talk to you about your account."
"Odd name Strong."
The man's lips twitched in a barely noticeable smile, "It's a family name."
"So what is it about my accounts that you want to talk about?"
Strong looked from side to side, his brown eyes lingering on the Montesi estate, "I would rather discuss your personal information inside."
Increasing the power wrapped around his body just short of being noticeable, Harry stepped back, "You better come in then."
The moment Strong crossed the threshold, a bright flash exploded from his body.
Harry jumped back, his ocean blue aura flaring fully around his body as energy coalesced into daggers in his hands.
When the light faded, Harry found himself staring at a goblin. He was four feet tall, wearing the same dark suit. It now looks odd against his dark skin, the color of used leather. His hands were thinner. His fingers were longer with an extra joint.
He raised his hands, the pointed tips of his fingernails gleaming in the light coming in from outside. Yellow eyes met Harry's glowing blue, "I mean you no harm, my previous form was a magical construct so I could walk around without being accosted in the outside world."
A yellow eye drifted to the open door, a large pointed ear twitched with nerves, "Do you mind if I shut the door. If it's left open then me coming here dressed in a construct would become a moot point."
Harry barely inclined his head.
The goblin twitched his finger, slowly the door swung shut.
"So," Harry began as the door clicked into its frame, "what is a goblin doing at my home, I thought all of them left for otherworld with the rest of the magical world of Britain?"
Strong shook his head, "Not all, a few clans stayed to assist those that decided to stay on earth."
A dark red eyebrow slowly lifted, "As far as I'm aware, goblins don't do charity work."
The goblin grinned, showing two rows of serrated teeth, "There are plenty of investment opportunities to be made in this world, if one works hard enough. That is more than enough incentive to stay behind."
Harry's lips curled despite his nerves. That sounded more like the goblins he knew.
The goblin glanced into the living room, "Do you mind if we sit down?"
Harry nodded, gesturing for the goblin to go first.
Once they were seated on the dark leather furniture, Strong looked at him, "As I said before, I'm here on behalf of Jamison's bank. We have been taking care of your mother's assets since your disappearance, and in accordance with her wishes, once you turn fifteen their control is to be handed over to you."
Harry allowed the blue energy around him to fade. Goblins very rarely attacked the people they did business with. After all a dead man couldn't make money and goblins were all about making money.
Interlacing his fingers, he leaned back in his chair, "What are the assets looking like at this moment?"
Strong held up his hand, a piece of paper appearing between his fingers. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it to him.
Leaning forward, Harry caught the paper with his thumb and pointer finger. Rolling his wrist, he flipped it open.
Name on account – Hadrian John Grey.
Age – fifteen.
Species – unknown.
Liquid assets in account – $300,000.
Properties owned by account holder – house of secrets of earth three, Baker St., New York.
Curious about the species unknown part of the print out, Harry locked eyes with Strong, "You do know normal banks don't give out the species part right?"
Strong's serrated teeth flashed again, "Jamison's bank prides itself on giving customers unique services."
Harry cocked his head to the side, "Why Jamison's bank?"
"Jamison is the last name of a man who built an empire out of nothing, even after failure he is been able to rise to success again. That impressed us so we named our bank after him."
Harry nodded, personally he would've used Stark, but he supposed that name was two well-known and would draw too much attention. "So, what happens now?"
"Well," Strong rose to his feet, "if you don't need anything, I will take my leave."
Harry raised a hand, "There is one thing."
Strong turned to face him, his hands folded behind his back.
"I want you to take a hundred and fifty thousand dollars and by as much gold as you can. I then want it delivered here."
"Why?"
"Call it a rainy day fund."
"Anything else?"
"Take fifty thousand dollars and invested in the companies you think will make a profit. If you triple the investment within the next year, I will give you twenty percent."
Strong nodded, "If that is all I will take my leave, your gold will be delivered in the next two days by magic." Strong made his way towards the door, his form shimmering as he retook his human visage.
"One more thing. Is Strong your real name?"
Strong looked back, a hint of a smile on his lips, "My full name is Strong Jaw."
–XX –
Five minutes later, Harry entered the attic. With a flick of his hand, the chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling burst to life. Moving behind the table, energy shone in his eyes, causing them to glow a light blue.
An aura of red energy danced around the Dragon scales like flames, while Emerald green energy streaked with black billowed out from the basilisk tooth.
Placing one hand over the scales and the other over the basilisk fang, he forced a tiny bit of his will into the auras slowly guiding them into the silver, imbuing it with the durability of Dragon scales, and the poison of the basilisk fang.
During his training with the ancient one, he learned that by guiding the aura of animal parts into magical conductive metal, he could imbue the animal's traits into the metal.
Moving his hands over to the bar of silver in the center of the table, he focused his will, forcing the auras now dancing on the metal deeper, forcing them into the core.
When he was finished, the silver glowed with a red aura. Black streaks curved along the angles of the metal.
Exhaling, Harry released his sight.
Wiping sweat from his brow, he stared at the metal. The hard part was now done, the metal would be stronger and easier to mold as long as he formed his new weapon with magic.
Glancing at the basilisk fang, a frown slid onto his face as he eyed the pile of ashes.
It appears removing the lingering magic from an animal part caused it to decay at a rapid rate. Lifting the lid of the clay jar containing the Dragon scales, he found more ash.
With a flick of his hand, the two piles of ash vanished in a flash of light.
Raising his right hand, he curled his pointer finger, pulling a vial of Dragon's blood from the shelf of ingredients while using his left to pull the ink pot to him from the corner of the table.
Removing the dropper from vial of Dragon's blood, he added two drops to the ink, using a small brush meant for fine details to mix the red liquid in with the ink.
Once the blood was fully integrated, he began painting swooping runes onto the edges of the metal. Once the bottom and top edges were covered in the runes, he picked up a needle and began drawing the blade of the dagger into the center of the bar of silver.
Once finished, he focused his will.
The runes flashed in the bar of silver floated into the air. It burned yellow, heat radiated from it as it lengthened taking on the appearance of a curved dagger.
He would have rather created a sword, but that would require more metal, and a sword was more difficult to conceal. As the heat faded from the blade, it floated back to the table its edge gleaming in the light of the chandelier.
Grabbing it gently by the tang, Harry swung it towards the corner of the desk. It passed through it like it wasn't even there, sending the angled piece of wood dropping to the floor.
Nodding, he sat the blade down, banishing his ink and brushes back to the shelf. His gaze swept over the shelf of crafting materials searching for suitable handle material for his new weapon.
A hissing sound caught his attention. He glanced at the corner of the desk to find smoke rising from the wood as it rotted away before his eyes.
Okay, the good news is the basilisk venom from the fang had been imbued into his blade, making it a more deadly weapon. The bad news is that venom is now eating through his table.
Stretching his left hand forward, he pulled the magical aura out of the poison eating the table, funneling it back into his blade.
The rotting stopped, the smoke faded, leaving behind a blackened section of wood.
Making a mental note to fix it later, he turned his attention back to the crafting shelf. His eyes landed on a block of elder. A smile curled his lips.
In the wizarding world there was a story of three brothers being visited by death, one of the brothers was given a wand that was said to be unbeatable. The wood of that wand was said to be elder. It seemed fitting for elder to be the handle of his new dagger, especially since the blade was infused with basilisk venom.
He glanced down at the blade, once finished this weapon would bring death to anyone it cut.
Curling his fingers, he pulled the wood to him, while raising the blade with his mind.
Slowly he pushed the tang of the blade towards the wood, while bending a small recess in the material. Once the wood and metal were joined, he spun the blade in the air like it was on a lave contouring the wood to the blade. Blocky runes smoked as they were burned into the wood, strengthening the beveled handle.
The final touch before the blade drifted to the table, was leather wrapping around the handle, hiding the runes and the tang poking out from the top and underside of the handle from view.
Harry's gaze flicked from the dagger to the three hairs of the leather clad assailant. His hand curled into a fist, it was time to go hunting.