In the last chapter: Harry sneaks into Gringotts to steal Helga's cup, putting the tortured dragon there to rest. When Harry returns to Hogsmead, he runs into Bellatrix and saves her from the dementors in exchange for her leaving him alone to look for her master. Snape has some unpleasant dreams.
NOTES: Hey guys! Sorry, yes I know that I skipped a posting date and I'm super sorry! It's just been a little hectic and I haven't been finding the time that I need to really sit down and just write. Hopefully I can get ahead by a few chapters soon so that I won't be late again. Thank you everybody and I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
PS: I know I'm new to so you guys have had to put up with a lot of my sub-par posting skills, but I did take some time getting familiar with the site and the general format people use here, so I will be making little changes to my previous chapters (if I can get it to work, if not, the changes will take place from here on out). Thank you guys for being patient with me and hopefully I can get this all to run more smoothly in the future! I actually have specific names for each chapter that I had no idea weren't showing up on these chapters, so hopefully I can get those up as well. They're usually dorky or punny.
Returning home for winter break, Harry's spirits rose to incredible heights. He had three of the five Horcruxes, Bellatrix vanished without a trace, and he could tell that the period of just learning the language of the dead would soon be coming to an end. The short conversations he'd held with the dementors must have been enough to prove to Death that he knew the language well enough, for the lessons were centered more around 'polishing' what he already knew rather than the rigorous studying he'd been doing up to that point.
All of Harry's hard work over the past few years was finally providing results and he couldn't have been happier.
Sirius and Remus noticed the uptick in his mood immediately and began their foolish game of trying to figure out just what had him smiling so much. Unsurprisingly, Sirius kept listing off the names of Harry's peers—most likely to see if he had a 'crush' as they called it. Remus, having had the opportunity to observe Harrys interactions with the other students, doubted that it had anything to do with infatuation. Harry's reputation as the 'Ice Prince' didn't come from nowhere, after all.
Either way, it just felt really nice to be home, Harry thought upon entering the Black ancestral home.
The days leading up to Christmas—or Yule, as Sirius called it—were blanketed in thick duvets of snow as the three remained within the home next to the warm fire or wrapped in a blanket at a window seat with tea or cocoa encased in their fingers. Sirius was able to drag the other two out the day after a particularly large snowfall to play some winter games and build some snowy lumps that barely passed as figures. Although he and Remus had complained the whole way out, when they returned, they were rosy-cheeked and grinning, large flakes still melting in their hair and eyelashes.
When Christmas finally came, Harry found himself sharing in the holiday exuberance as he enjoyed an enormous and syrupy breakfast before sitting down in the warm drawing room with his small family and tearing through the piles of gifts from his friends and guardians. Any gifts that Harry received from the fanatic 'unknown's—there were always a few at every birthday and Christmas—were checked by Remus and Sirius before Harry could either decide to keep them or through them out, and he usually threw them away.
He hadn't a clue how the people who sent the gifts didn't see how inappropriate it was for strange adults to send gifts to a thirteen-year-old bi-annually. Sure, some were people of power who wanted an opportunity to boost the public's opinion of them through association—which Harry could mildly understand—but most were just adults who wanted to 'thank him for his service to society' and were his 'fans.' Harry hadn't even done anything to garner their attention save for his testimony at Sirius' trial and the initial fame that came from what happened with Voldemort.
Harry wasn't ignorant, he knew that there were some his guardians never even let him see. Occasionally he got the odd letter or two while at school that praised everything he did and expressed worrying amounts of devotion and affection. He received newspaper clippings of the very few times his picture had been in the paper usually accompanied with detailed poetry or letters about what he meant to them or misguided declarations of love. If he were anyone else, he would probably be terrified or disgusted, but as it was, Harry just vanished them or set them aflame. He had more important things to worry about than the inappropriate gazes and thoughts of strangers.
Thankfully, Sirius and Remus had gone through all of the parcels he received and checked them for any spells or enchantments before placing them under the tree. That year had to have been the best Christmas Harry had ever had! Basking in the presence of his family, having barely any work to do over break so that he could fully relax, and having the time and head space to really put effort into conquering the patronus charm. Everything seemed to be slotting into place perfectly.
With all that time to himself, it was no wonder that a few days after Christmas, Harry finally found success with the difficult spell. Clearing his mind of everything except the wondrous memories he'd collected over time while only feeding a small amount of magic into his wand, Harry's patronus finally emerged in the ethereal glowing form of an owl. The form had surprised both him and Remus (though, of course Sirius used the opportunity to make bird/Ravenclaw jokes, which they both ignored).
Harry was certain that his patronus could be a Boelen Python—or at least a bloody snake—but instead it was this massive, regal looking owl that didn't look to be of any species he recognized. The wingspan was easily over ten feet with a body as big as Harry's. The face greatly resembled a barn owl, but the overall appearance of the bird made it seem like something else entirely.
Although Harry was relieved to have finally succeeded, the spell had been incredibly draining on Harry and caused him to take it easy for the remaining days of break.
When he and Remus had to go back for the next term, it was easier that time than it had been in the fall now that Harry had seen with his own eyes how well Sirius was doing even in their absence. He certainly wanted the year to end quickly so that he could return to the old Black residence that had slowly grown into a real home, but he was more at ease knowing that his and Remus' absence wouldn't hinder the progress Sirius had made since Azkaban.
The spring term started rather uneventfully aside from one small incident with Michael Corner in the halls between classes. It was nearly a week after returning and Harry was making his way towards the Great Hall when he crossed paths with Michael and a small group of his friends leaning against the wall and laughing about something. As per usual, Michael called out what he probably meant to be demeaning names, but Harry only blinked and continued on his way.
"Oi! Think you're so superior Potter? Ignoring everyone because they're so far beneath you." The unadulterated aggravation in Michael's voiced caused Harry to pause, if only because it sounded eerily similar to an enraged Dudley whenever Harry ignored him in a similar fashion. Brushing off the brief wave of memories, Harry took a step forward without glancing back at the irate Ravenclaw. Unfortunately, Michael didn't appreciate the slight and had Harry not had a metaphysical being looming over his shoulder in another plane, he would not have been able to raise a shield fast enough to block and rebound the spell aimed at his back.
At the hideous squealing coming from behind, Harry slowly turned to see Michael on the floor cupping a hand over the two front teeth rapidly growing to disturbing lengths out of his mouth and past his chin. As Michael's 'friends' erupted with raucous laughter all around him, Harry simply raised a black eyebrow before continuing on his way to lunch.
Soon word of the incident spread through the student body and for a while Michael became quite the spectacle for those bored with the rather uneventful procession of the year. Harry, not one to pay much attention to the circulating gossip of Hogwarts, would have completely forgotten the incident if it weren't for the burning glares he received from Michael whenever he was near.
Instead of pushing it completely from his mind as he usually did, Harry paid a little more attention to the boy. This time, something was different. In the past, Michael would bounce back immediately with vicious rumors of his own or even more taunts and insults, but this time was different. Instead, Michael was almost constantly an angry flush of tomato red and the glares seemed to hold something far less superficial. Whatever Michael's tiff with Harry, it had gone from a harmless elementary rivalry to something closer to actual hatred. While keeping an eye on Michael, he also noticed when the boy sought out Morag and they began spending far more time together.
It was thanks to this observation that led to Harry not being surprised at all when those two plus Terry Boot cornered Harry about a week later. Harry had been returning to the dorms quickly to drop of his bag after a trip to the library before dinner. The halls were empty as everyone had already gone down to the Great Hall and the dim lights illuminating the less frequently used staircase cast ominous flickering shadows on the walls and stairs like the phantom figures of students moving about. Harry had just reached the top of the stairs when he looked up to find his way blocked by the trio.
"May I help you?" Harry asked impassively, barely blinking at their defensive posture. Michael immediately sneered at the very sound of his voice.
"You know, I'm so bloody sick of you, Potter! Everyone around here seems to think that you're the second coming of Merlin, but we know the truth." Michael's tone was accusing and the manic gleam in his eyes said that he thought he'd just hit the nail on the head. He was trying to call Harry's bluff and get the boy to 'break his façade.' "You don't care about anyone but yourself! You've got everyone wrapped around your little finger, practically pawing at you for attention, thinking that you're going to save them from their pathetic existence. But you won't. You'll just keep leading them all on, making them think you're actually worth something. And when they truly need you, you'll just be another pathetic little half-blood without a mummy or daddy to save you."
Michael became more worked up the longer he talked, his gestures becoming more erratic and his voice rising in volume. His little speech seemed to rile up his lackeys as well; Morag grinned and some of the nervous fidgeting left Terry when he saw that Harry didn't immediately retaliate. Morag snorted and took a step closer to Harry.
"You really are pathetic! How'd you do it, huh? How'd you do that little trick in the common room? I bet you got Goldstein to use his magic to intimidate us, after all, he comes from a reputable pureblood family. He probably just felt bad." Morag's shrill voice broke into cackling at the end and Michael stepped forward as well, eyes shining and wide as he came far closer to Harry.
"We won't take it anymore. It's time someone deserving stood on top for once! You hear that, Potter? Your reign is over!" Michael shouted and shoved Harry's chest for emphasis. However, Michael had forgotten where they were and his glee morphed into horror as the green-eyed teen stumbled back to the edge of the stairs where he had been standing and tipped over the side where there was no railing and began to fall towards the pale stone stairs almost two floors below. Wide verdant eyes were locked with Michael's as the boy uselessly reached out to the one who had pushed him. Each second passed agonizingly slow until Harry's head made contact with ancient stonework with a gut-wrenching crack.
The three stared in abject horror at Harry's still form on the stairs, pale gaze looking uncharacteristically dull as it stared vacantly up. When a halo of thick dark crimson bloomed behind Harry's head and began to trickle down the stairs, Morag and Terry jumped away and rushed further into the hall to escape the sight and the crushing reality of what they'd done. Terry immediately lost his stomach contents all over the floor and Morag's holiday-tan bleached from her skin as she shook from the on-setting shock. Michael only looked away when Terry came back and grabbed his arm to physically rip him back into the hall.
Michael's eyes were owlishly wide and he didn't react at all to his friend's man-handling. Whatever turmoil running through the boy and decaying his thoughts quicker than they could form, it caused Michael to completely shut down—barely even breathing.
"Michael! We have to get out of here before someone shows up!" Terry was trying to drag him away, but Michael was still practically catatonic. The visage of their housemate's grotesquely empty and still body carved into the backs of their eyes in some kind of divine retribution for their mistake. And oh Merlin, the sound! The brittle and wet crunch of a skull that they never thought could be so fragile. Like a supple egg shell buckling under a too heavy hand.
They were just kids! They didn't think about their own mortality, they didn't think about how quickly and easily a life could be snuffed. They never meant any real harm, but now they all seemed to have soaked their hands in the staining red ink of debauchery with no feasible way of ever removing it.
"I—I—. . . I didn't—" He stumbled over his words weakly as the smaller teen finally was able to force the other into motion, snagging the parchment-pale girl along the way to hopefully get them down to dinner before what had happened was discovered and anyone could connect their absence with recent nightmarish events. They fled from the area, trying and failing to leave their hurricane of thoughts behind with the cooling body on the stairs.
Several long moments later, an angry grunt echoed softly through the stairwell as Harry slowly picked himself back up and rubbed absently at the sticky patch of raven hair dried at the back of his head. With a quick cleansing spell, the teen felt the ridged burn of genuine anger.
'They just . . . left me?!' Harry silently seethed as he slowly made his way back up the stairs.
'That they did. . .' Harry didn't notice the distracted tone of his companion as he glided through the halls on furious strides.
Harry was angry. Angry at their stupidity, at their recklessness, but mostly . . . he was angry with himself. How could he ever expect to keep his secret from major players such as Dumbledore, Voldemort, and the Death Eaters if he was so easily done in by a bloody group of children! In that moment of panic, he hadn't thought of any quick solutions, no arresto momentum's or cushioning charms to protect him from the fall, he just allowed himself to die in front of three of his housemates that he clearly couldn't trust.
Harry wasn't skilled enough in the mind-arts to perform an Obliviate, that was a spell that he would need sufficient practice in a controlled environment to be able to successfully perform, so that was out of the question. Harry fell more along the lines of 'morally grey' but he was not about to kill them just to keep his secret. No, Harry's best option was to leave it be. They would never tell anyone because that would be admitting to what they did to him, and even if they tried, they would not be believed.
Harry made it to the dorms and dropped off his things before making his way to the Great Hall at a much slower pace so that whatever emotions the three Ravenclaws were stewing in would have more time to really settle in. To take a life—accidentally or not—was no small thing, especially when Harry had never really done anything wrong and despite his lack of visible activity, he was still the 'Boy-Who-Lived' and 'Savior of the Wizarding World' which they would realize the longer they had to take in what they'd done.
Harry slipped quietly into the Great Hall, barely noticed by anyone as he kept his eyes on a particularly stricken trio of Ravenclaws. None of them noticed his approach. Morag and Terry sat across from Michael, who was sitting on the side of the table Harry was on. Stopping just behind the boy, Harry's silent anger boiled with the arctic burn of his magic, dropping the temperature a few degrees around the boy. When Morag and Terry saw him, they froze in utter terror.
Reaching out, one of Harry's painfully cold hands settled in a firm grip on Michaels shoulder and he visibly flinched. Leaning down so that Harry could talk directly into his ear, Harry's whispered tone tottered dangerously on the edge of parseltongue.
"If you ever try anything like that again, I will not be so forgiving. And if you tell anyone about what happened, know that there is no protection in the world that can keep me from you." Michael tried his best to quell the trembling by tensing his body, but Harry could still feel it from where his hand still gripped his shoulder.
The surrounding Ravenclaws wisely ignored the interaction, the only acknowledgement being a few restrained sneers or glares cast at the shaken trio. They didn't know what Harry was saying or what they'd done to deserve the full brunt of the 'Ice Prince's cutting disdain, but they knew that those three in particular had been harassing Harry since his first year and whatever they received was most likely well deserved.
Moving his hand from Michael's shoulder to gently pat the boy's head—causing another flinch—Harry straightened and made his way to his own group, feeling infinitely better.
Later that same night, Harry decided to take a trip down to the Chamber of Secrets to blow off the last bits of steam he still held onto from the incident. Knowing that it would be a safe spell to cast in the perpetually damp and cavernous chamber, Harry practiced with fiend fire. The spell was exhausting to control for those without much experience, but Harry was hoping it would be exactly what he needed to extinguish the last bits of his own fire.
Harry was in the middle of coaxing a house cat made entirely of wild flame when his companion spoke for the first time since his brief comment after Harry had been revived.
'What happened earlier was unacceptable. I thought that preparing you as much as I could in normal wizarding magic would be enough for the time being to keep you safe, but I was wrong. I am moving my plans up ahead of what I had originally set out. I was going to wait until this summer, but I think—in light of recent events—we should begin your teachings as soon as possible.' Death sounded slightly put-out, but Harry's exploding excitement quickly reformed it into amusement and mild excitement of his own. It had been so long since a wizard had come to him, seeking knowledge in his particular branch of magic.
Harry finited the fiend fire quickly before his emotions fueled it into becoming something far larger and completely out of his control. The day's events forgotten, Harry eagerly awaited his first real lesson.
With a forceful gust of swirling winds and the icy bite of magic in the air, a huge tome appeared on the ground before Harry in a plume of black smoke. Kneeling before the book, Harry reached out and reverently smoothed his hand over the surface. The book was encased in black ancient-looking organic material that he couldn't tell whether it was leather or scales of some sort. There were no markings or titles on the outside of the book and the pages were locked behind very strange looking lock on the side.
'Speak your name in my language, it has to catalog who is using it for security reasons. There are secrets that lie within this book that no mortal has ever known, and it must stay that way.' Harry immediately obeyed and spoke his full name to the book. After a moment, a soft click resonated from within the lock and Harry felt a gust of cold magic sweep over him when he cracked open the tome.
As soon as Harry's eyes landed on the small, elegant handwritten text in the language of the dead, his eyes hungrily drank in the introduction the tome provided. Harry only stopped reading when his companion informed him that the sun was about to rise and he should make his way back to the dorms so as not to rouse suspicion. Harry hadn't even finished the introduction. Once Harry had closed and locked the book, it vanished into the veil and he felt reluctant to let it go.
Suddenly, a tired feeling washed over Harry as he made the journey back into the school, for he realized then that it was unlikely he would be doing much sleeping for the remainder of the term.
NOTES: There it is! We're about to begin Soul Magic and still have two horcruxes left to find. Comment below and tell me what you guys think is going to happen next or what the Soul Magic will be like! I already know how I'm going to be doing it but I really don't talk to you guys enough, I definitely want to start doing that more.
