In the last chapter: Harry finally successfully cast a patronus in the form of a great white owl. When Harry returned to Hogwarts, a conflict arises between Harry and Michael. Michael, Terry, and Morag confront Harry and Michael accidentally pushes him down the stairs and kills him. Harry scares the daylights out of the three when he comes back to life, and Harry begins learning soul magic.
NOTES: Hey guys! I know that this chapter is a little late (Sorry!) but these last few chapters I wasn't 100% into it because I was too focused and excited about the things to come /After/ this chapter! I will try to be on time next update. Thank you all for coming this far and I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Have a wonderful evening everybody!
-Pleasant Readings!
Necromancy, as it turned out, was not exactly what Harry had been expecting. From the introduction in Death's book, Harry gathered a few key bits of information about the form of magic. For one thing, soul magic and necromancy—in the world of magic, at least—were synonymous. Since the soul is considered neither dead nor alive, it's considered to be a representation of the point between life and death, and the duality of the two is the basis for 'necromancy.' You cannot have one without the other.
Soul magic—or necromancy—was actually a far broader classification of magic, centering more on the elemental than wands and spells. It involved rituals, invocations, materials, sacrifices, and the consequences of doing a spell wrong were more severe.
The first 'chapter' kept Harry busy for a good month and a half. It didn't have to do with actual spell work, it was more a series of complex cleansing rituals he had to perform on himself and when those were finished, he needed to do a few more rituals to strengthen his mental, emotion, physical, and metaphysical constitutions.
The rituals were far more . . . gritty than he'd been expecting. The modern form of magic that he was used to using (spells, charms, hexes, etc.) were so clean and precise; they'd been developed and evolved over centuries to be made easier, safer. These rituals, however, felt arcane in nature. Drawing circles of complex runes, using raw materials or potion ingredients as the conduits of magic rather than a wand, long periods of constant chanting until something finally gave, the pure exhausting act of conjuring up and holding onto emotions in their most volatile or raw states.
At one point, Harry literally had to strip down and scrub the gritty concoction of sand, dirt, sea water, and blood into his skin to replicate his rebirth and symbolically represent his continuous journeys between life and death. Interesting in theory, not so fun in practice.
All of these rituals of course took place in the chamber. Which meant that he only had a small window to actually perform them, add onto that the time it took to discretely gather all of the materials he needed and possible times that the ritual was most effective and you have very little time to sleep and it taking exceedingly long to complete the initial round of rituals.
The rituals did little that was really noticeable. Mostly, they left Harry feeling drained, lethargic, and rather content—like how one might feel after a refreshing nap or full night's sleep. He did notice, however, that the more powerful the spell, the more those pleasant and rewarding feelings came and the longer they stayed. When Harry asked Death, the being just blandly explained that because he was doing things the 'right way' he was having a very positive reaction to the magic and that it was 'rewarding' him. Whatever that meant.
After the purification and strengthening rituals, the next little bit before Harry could begin delving in to actual spells, were totems. The significance of totems spanned across oceans and millennia, being found in all sorts of cultures throughout time. In general, totems could be anything as long as it was believed to have spiritual significance. For Harry's purposes, though, there was only one he really needed to move forward.
One totem to serve as a grounding or focal point when performing the magic. One to represent Harry's relationship with both life and death. More than any of the ingredients for the rituals, the materials for the totem were the most difficult to procure. First, to serve as the chain or cord that would allow Harry to wear the totem like a necklace, he needed a lock of hair from a woman who had died in childbirth. The natural paradox of the creation of life from death holding incredible magic, even if it came from a magicless muggle.
It was more difficult for Harry to take than he'd thought it would be. Not in the sense of getting his hands on such a thing—it was rather easy apparating into the morgue of a muggle hospital and finding what he needed. Just . . . it was a different thing entirely to actually be faced with the sight of still young woman who had gone into labor early and was too far from the hospital when the baby came. Out of respect, Harry had demanded to hear her story and know her name from his companion before he pulled up a stool and began lowly incanting while he braiding a small lock of silky long black hair.
Because this magic did not allow for the blatant desecration of the dead, in exchange, Harry cut a lock of his own—much shorter—hair and wove it in with hers. After that, there was only two more things he needed for his totem. Unfortunately, one was not much better than the first item. Harry had to go out and get seven skulls from witches and wizards who had not received a proper burial. With the help of Death, he found them all in one exhausting, sleepless night. Once he had them all, they were cleansed, rubbed with salts, and shrunken to the size of a silver sickle with small holes through the temporal plates so that they could be strung onto the braided hair.
The last bit that he needed was far easier to find and he was able to actually buy from a store rather than steal; enough beads made out of black volcanic glass to have three beads between each skull on the necklace. Once the totem was assembled, Harry used his own blood to paint a rune on the small ivory dome of each skull. The runes were for water, fire, earth, air, life, death, and lastly, self at the very center. The braided lock was long enough for Harry to easily slip the totem over his head.
With the totem completed, he was finally able to begin learning the spells he'd waited years for. Now, if only he could find a spell that would put an end to Death's smug remarks about his 'protégé's rapid progression through the material. Even if he did owe him that one.
Anthony had been keeping a close eye on his friend since their return to Hogwarts. Without the one on one training sessions they'd had over the summer, the young teen found it increasingly difficult to catch Harry with his guard down. Without the brief moments of translucency the raven haired boy expressed during a tangle of rapid spells, Anthony had to resort to looking less with his eyes and more with his magic to gauge the state his friend was in.
In retrospect, it sounded ridiculous. Anthony was Harry's closest friend and yet he knew and accepted that the other was still donning his iron skin whenever he drifted too close. But that was just Harry for you. So, Anthony had to keep tabs in other ways, like keeping himself open to be able to sense Harry's magic, mentally taking note of his comings and goings, and what effect of whatever he was up to had on the 'external self' he projected.
At first there was nothing really out of the ordinary with Harry, but after winter break, things shifted slightly.
For starters, Anthony knew that something had happened between Harry and Michael's little group. Anthony didn't know what, but the complete 180 the three had done around Harry made it obvious. They went from hateful glares and spat insults to pale, jittery messes. Whatever happened, it had caused all three to begin losing sleep and practically sprinting away whenever Harry was in the area. When he asked Harry what had happened, the raven haired boy simply told him he'd 'taken care of it' and that it was nothing to be concerned about. Anthony knew it was yet another thing that fell under the long list of secrets Harry was currently keeping.
Aside from that, Anthony also noticed the change in Harry. His friend had always been calm and composed, his walls up and fortified at all times, but now it was different—something was distracting Harry. Whatever it was, it was consuming all of his spare time—including his sleep—and distracting him from the careful control he held over his 'external self.' The Ravenclaw had quite clearly taken on an obsession. Anthony could only hope that whatever it was, it wasn't too dangerous.
Harry's peculiar behavior had even caught the attention of Draco and Hermione who thought it might have to do with Harry's excessive course load, even though his impeccable academic performance remained intact.
Anthony respected Harry and his judgment, so he would not step in unless he saw with his own eyes that his friend was in over his head.
The term came to an end with a mix of both highs and lows. The rapidly warming weather beckoned in another big win for the Ravenclaw quidditch team and Harry made leaps and bounds in his progress with the soul magic, being officially acknowledged as a 'competent necromancer' by Death. Unfortunately, one of the lows involved Remus getting a notice during the last week of school that he would not be invited back in the fall to teach.
Apparently, Snape had gone over everyone's heads to personally owl several powerful parents just who and what was teaching their children magic. The parents had demanded Remus' removal and some even asked that legal action be made against his guardian. Though, thankfully Dumbledore finally stepped in to appease those parents.
To say that Harry had been livid would have been an understatement. His fierce protectiveness rearing its dangerous head and he was only just stopped from taking extreme action by Remus, who only seemed resigned to matter—not at all surprised. Remus had seen the look in his young charge's eyes when he delivered the news and had warned Harry against doing anything, promising a long summer confined within Grimmauld Place without access to the vast library if he did so.
Reluctantly, Remus explained to Harry the awful event that had taken place when he was in school. The horrible prank Sirius had tried to play on Severus by luring him out into the forbidden forest on a night of the full moon. Severus had almost died out there and Remus clearly still hadn't fully forgiven his partner for the cruel and careless act. Harry couldn't blame him.
Although that bit of information explained a lot of Snape's animosity towards Remus, it still did not prevent Harry from confronting his potions professor after class the next day.
Severus hadn't looked at all surprised when Harry approached his desk after the last student left. The severe man didn't even look up from his task of marking the labeled potion bottles on his desk to note attendance. Harry just waited him out, knowing that in his next class they would just be revising all hour and it was the prime opportunity to skip without repercussion.
After several more long moments, Snape sighed in agitation and looked up to give Harry an impatient glare. Even with the man's full attention, Harry waited silently, knowing that his long silences usually put people on edge and gave him the slightest upper-hand.
"What?" The hissed word was expelled with such force in the otherwise silent classroom that it was quite jarring, though Harry barely reacted.
"I understand that, because of your history together, it has been rather tense and uncomfortable for you and my guardian, Remus Lupin." Severus' upper lip subconsciously curled in disdain, but Harry continued on without faltering. "However, I find it hard to understand why you have forgone professionalism in exchange for fulfillment of personal vendetta's. It is no secret that you wish to take over the DADA position for yourself, but this is the first time you have taken such initiative in ousting the current professor, not mention the fact that out of our last three DADA professors, Lupin has been the most competent without a shadow of a doubt." At this, Severus didn't react other than the slightest uncomfortable shift in his posture. Although, Harry didn't expect much of a reaction; Snape was a Slytherin and—more importantly—an adult, he would have a decent handle on his composure.
"Mr. Potter, I do not think that it is a student's place to question the actions of their elder. Also, for your information, I was concerned with the safety of my students. It is the right of the parents to know who is around their children."
"Is it not my place, though? We, students, see far more than anyone else in this school and yet our concerns are ignored when we speak up and action is taken on our behalves when there isn't a problem to begin with. Do not patronize me, professor. I do not recall there ever being letters sent home when a very valuable item was stored here after someone extremely dangerous tried to steal it from Gringotts my first year, nor did anyone inform the parents about the lethal protections placed on said item that nearly killed three first year students. Or how about when a basilisk was roaming these halls and petrifying students left and right, we were only so incredibly lucky that no student looked directly in its eyes and died. Pardon me, but I do believe that a man with a manageable affliction that has been deemed safe enough to be my guardian is far less dangerous than everything else that seems to happen every year in this blasted school!" Harry's hard pale verdant eyes bore deeply into challenging obsidian, unwilling to crumble against the older man's iron will.
"If you are here to lecture me, Potter, it will be of no use, the school board's action is final." Snape's cutting tone held the faintest note of defensiveness, which Harry immediately picked up on.
"I am not daft, professor, I am aware of this. I just hope that, moving forward, you will take your stature more seriously and get over these childish and ignorant mannerisms of yours. I have accepted the fact that my parentage is difficult for you and you have trouble separating me from my late father, but there are other students out there who are suffering because of your irrational, and frankly, toxic behavior. If you want people to blame, if you want to aggravate and antagonize people, try taking our side, you will find an abundance of people looking to control and mold us that you can butt heads with. Perpetuating the house rivalry only makes you just as culpable as everyone who tried to tear apart you and my mother. Be our voice and you will be surprised by what we have to say." With that, Harry turned and left the classroom, having finally made his peace. Whatever Snape did after that was out of his hands.
Meanwhile, the stiff potions professor deflated with an arduous sigh as his dropped his face into his hands. With a budding fog of dread in his gut, Severus was staring to see his actions for the first time in the harsh and unforgiving light of day. He just hoped that the damage he'd done was not irreparable.
Two days before Harry left Hogwarts for the summer, Death rewarded all of his hard work for the soul magic with the location of the next Horcrux. Of course, the Horcrux just happened to be only a few floors above him all that time—and in the incredible legendary Room of Requirement that would have been invaluable to him the past three years.
Harry excitement fizzled when he saw the towering piles of precariously stacked junk in the Room of Hidden Things. Knowing that his companion could not guide him any further than that, Harry deflated once facing the daunting task of having to search for the Horcrux. None the less, he did not back down or try to beg more information out of his amused ethereal friend.
Harry began wandering through the mountains of lost objects aimlessly, hoping beyond all hope that he would just happen upon the Horcrux and would be back in the dorms before curfew. As the minutes seemed to be greedily devoured by the beastly piles, however, that wish drifted further and further from his reach.
After several hours of searching, Harry grew frustrated and switched to a different tactic. Harry took several calming breaths and closed his eyes. Slipping into a practiced state of meditation that had him clearing his mind and slowly garnering awareness of every inch of his body, Harry eventually gathered his magic and slowly fed it into the space around him like a lazy ripple. Harry made sure that the magic was spread incredibly thin so as not to immediately exhaust his core.
Even with spreading it thin, Harry was already feeling the strain not even halfway through the room. Cool sweat formed on his forehead and the back of his neck as he reached half-way. A few moments later, a tremble took hold of his body and his breathing became slightly labored. He could feel every magical item his magic passed over, which was almost everything in the room. By the time his magic finally gathered around an object like a magnet, Harry was feeling the beginnings of magical exhaustion.
Letting go of all of his magic other than a thin thread leading him in the right direction, Harry quickly made his way back towards the entrance until he came upon the right pile. Harry frantically dug through the base of the pile until he uncovered a slightly tarnished blue and silver diadem that practically sang the moment Harry's fingers made contact. Clutching the Horcrux close, the raven collapsed in a heap in order to rest a moment before he got up and snuck back into the dorms.
With yet another Horcrux collected, Harry returned home feeling like he was back on top of his luck. Just one Horcrux to go. With everything brewing around him, Harry knew that the upcoming summer would be the most exciting yet.
