XIV—Studying the Ancient Curse
The page to the left bore an elaborate drawing. It was inanimate but Harry felt it move with the beauty and grace of something not possibly of the earth. He could not say what the picture was because every time he glanced at it, it was something different and more glorious than before. He could sit all day and night for years staring at that ever changing image because it filled him with the same warm feeling that he had felt when Dumbledore uttered the enchantment for the first time, like nothing could ever possibly go wrong.
He became aware of others around him. Professor McGonagall looked on solemnly but the portraits strained over Harry to see what he was reading, except Dumbledore, he seemed to sleep peacefully in his frame. Harry felt he had to protect this sacred document and bent over the book more than was necessary.
He looked away from the image, concentrating on the text. At the top of the unnumbered page in detailed print that was more image than text, Amorarmor Annularion was the title.
He looked up to the Head Mistress after examining the text, "I don't know what this is saying. It's in some sort of foreign language."
"Copy down what you see, Harry, we can easily translate it afterward."
He began copying the Old English text:
Eac onscnawan as Lufu Awiergan…
He recognized certain words but others might as well have been written in Oriental characters because they were lost on him. Some of the letters he had not ever seen before. However, because of the magical properties of the book, he felt that deep down he knew the translation; that the right words were locked in a glass box and he could see them, he only needed more understanding and it frustrated him beyond comprehension.
He sighed, relieved that he was finished. Professor McGonagall shut the book and returned it to its shelf to collect dust with the other books. She took up his parchment and studied it for a moment. Satisfied that he had not missed any important, illegible, details, she returned the parchment to the desk.
"Harry, have you ever been taught a translation spell?"
He shook his head, "I didn't know one existed."
The Professor nodded her head, "Well, there is, it is used primarily by politicians when exchanging letters between different countries. For example, when the Minister for Magic in Great Britain, writes to the Minister for Magic in Russia, he may write in English and the Russian Minister can translate it into his native tongue and read it instead of having to know English. There are other variations to the spell, other than with text, there is one that you can apply to yourself that allows you to hear what a person speaking a different language is saying and there is another used to translate your words."
Harry sat transfixed, "Why don't we learn this at Hogwarts?"
"If you were a normal seventh year, Harry, you would have. But under the circumstances, you know how much the curriculum has changed." She paused for a moment, "I want you to translate it Harry. It's very simple, just tap on the parchment and say Awendan, which, ironically, is Anglo Saxon for 'translate'."
Harry did so and wondered why it, being so simple, was a seventh level spell. Instantly, the text faded as if it had been washed with water and then rewrote itself in gold which faded back into Harry's own black printing. The only difference was that now, he could read it.
Also known as the curse of Love. Used against those soulless humans with hearts blacker than a starless night.
Amorarmor Annularion: Ă-môr-är-môr Ən-nŭll-âr-îĕn, Love, Defense, Destroy. Thou shalt directly followest my connotations for thou wilt becomest a lord at mine illustrious spell.
Fetch thine wand up lightly, focus in a decreasing forty-five degree angle. Playfully jest toward thy heavens precisely ninety degrees. Let fallest, as if thou art flicking droplets of water at thine enemy, to exactly one-hundred-eighty degrees. Whilst thou sayeth my sacred lexis ponderest upon love and wonderful things in life with all thine heart.
Followest these simple directions and your enemy, with his heart as blacketh as coal, wilt hath perished before your eyes…
"Why wasn't the book written in Latin, like most other ancient magical writings?"
"Hermione Granger isn't right in all things, Harry. The oldest magical tomes are written in Latin because that is the language that was used, however, this is in English because the time and the place called for it to be written in English; if that makes any sense."
"Not much," he grinned.
"I want you to keep that paper safe, Harry. Nobody else can look at it because it's very important. Do you understand?" He nodded affirmatively but they both knew that this was a promise he was going to have to break.
When Harry had finished reading the parchment for the tenth time that evening, he felt sadness and a loss of hope in his heart. "Professor McGonagall was right, this is a curse."
Hermione sat beside him, studying the parchment. "Harry, it is only a curse because of the outcome of the use. Some of the greatest magicians said that white magic is just dark magic inside out. You come to a point with white magic where death is involved. This is the point, Harry. You believe it is necessary don't you?"
"Of course I do, it's the only way to defeat Voldemort. It's the only way to stop the terror."
Hermione nodded sadly, "Yes, but at least it's not Avada Kedavra."
Staring into the fire, Harry managed a smile, "You're right. And he is soulless, so this should work."
"Precisely, now I'll help you if you like," she said "to get the wand movements."
Harry nodded, adjusting himself on the rug in front of the fire in his office. Hermione sat delicately on the stone hearth surrounded by books and parchment. She smiled down at him, studying the wand in his hand.
He brought it up trying to maintain a perfect forty-five degree angle then flipped it straight up where he held it for a moment before holding tight to it and flicking it down imagining that water sprayed from the end.
Hermione was unimpressed. Her brow furrowed. "Now, I'm not a professional at this spell of course, but by the way the writer explains it, it's as if you have no control over your wand movements, as if it's second nature to move your wand that way. Think light and graceful!"
Harry snorted, raising his eyebrows and letting a tiny grin escape the sides of his mouth. "I can't even dance; fate chose the wrong person for a light and graceful spell."
"OK, then, think of it this way: You're on your broom and you're flying to catch the snitch. How do you feel when you're doing that?"
Harry closed his eyes and he could almost see himself winding between the other Quiddich players; maneuvering, flipping, loop-de-looping. He tried again, but his wrist was still stiff, he still clutched the wand tightly.
Hermione blushed, "I have another idea," during her pause, her eyes held a mischievous glint to them, "think about how you feel when you're with Ginny…"
Harry would have tossed Hermione out of his office if he wasn't sure it might work. He sighed embarrassedly, closing his eyes. Imagining he was kissing her gently, he lifted his wand. His heart beat, on fire, as he felt that familiar reaction when she was around or he could smell her perfume, he flicked his wand up as he imagined pulling her into him passionately. He could almost feel her close to him, her skin, her hair, and her invisible scent was enrapturing and with the grace of a pitcher throwing a spinning curve ball he flicked his wand at a horizontal level, whispering Amorarmor Annularion as he had practiced the pronunciation.
He opened his eyes, the room seemed to be glowing, but only for a moment, Hermione was beaming. "On a small scale, you did it, Harry, on your first try! You're ready!"
AN: thanks for all the wonderful comments! I'm addicted to them! A special thanks to all of you who commented on the previous two chapters: CSI Queen, limeincoconut09, DaReader, Pheonix Feather15, Bob33 and ChocolateMoonyGal! Love you guys! I hope you keep your comments coming and enjoy the future chapters, i'll try to get them up quicker!