Bit of a short update.
I've recently read SmallvilleX: Evolution by ben10987654321 and, while I really enjoyed the story, I was always annoyed by Clark's girlfriend's attitude. Always wanting to know every single secret that Clark had. Just came off as naggy and such. So it's made me unsure about the pairing between Harry and Daphne in my story. The main focus of my story has always been Adventure/Humor. Romance is simply on the side, so don't get surprised if I suddenly decide to break it off.
Guest: I'm not sure why you think it's wrong for Harry to forgive his Aunt Petunia. Like I've said in earlier chapters, Harry is still a teenager at heart, and is reconciling many feelings from many sides. His hatred towards his family has lessened considerably, especially when Dudley helped him in the trial. Not to mention his knack for forgiving others. Why wouldn't he forgive Petunia?
Exalted Demi-Soul: He absorbed it, rather than destroying it.
xp3r1a: Updates will sort of be more regular, I guess.
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Lightning Dragon's Roar
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By Zero Rewind
© 2015
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Chapter 20: Recovery
"Nngh..." I groaned as I stirred myself awake. It felt like my very bones were aching. I slowly opened my eyes, only to quickly screw them shut, a flash of light sending a jolt of pain through my vulnerable orbs. I winced and clamped a hand over my face.
What happened? I felt like I went through a meat grinder. Twice.
I struggled to remember. Blood red eyes, and razor sharp teeth.. The island nation of Zipangu? Pokémon? That's right! I... was fighting Voldemort... In my soul? It was all so very fuzzy, I just couldn't get my hands on it. It was a bit like trying to grasp water.
"Finally awake, are you?" I heard a female voice say from my right.
I turned my head to the source, and slowly opened my eyes. The light still hurt, but my vision quickly began to adjust to the level of brightness. I was so glad I no longer needed my glasses, or I would not have been seeing a thing.
It was Madame Pomfrey, looking a bit peeved at me.
"H—" I struggled to say. "How long?"
"Around half a day, Potter." She answered.
"It's not even the end of the year yet, Potter." She continued as she marched over to my bedside. "And you're already finding trouble."
"What can I say?" I said in a scratchy voice, most likely from disuse. "Any excuse to see you, Madame Pomfrey."
She gave an almost-smirk and began to wave her wand in some intricate patterns, no doubt scanning my vitals and such. I took the time to look at my surroundings. Now that my eyesight adjusted, I wasn't really sure how I found this place bright. The room itself was quite dark, all things considered. In fact, it looked pretty familiar...
"Here you go, Potter." Pomfrey handed me a cup of water, which I took gratefully. I drank it hungrily, feeling the cold water soothe my throat, giving me temporary relief. I cleared my throat a few times.
"Thank you." I said. "I'm guessing we're not in Hogwarts, right now?"
"You would be correct, my boy." I heard a familiar old voice say. It was Professor Dumbledore, patiently standing at the room's entrance. "We are currently in Grimmauld Place."
He made his way over to us, and turned to Poppy.
"How is he?" He questioned her.
"As well as he can be, all things considered." Poppy answered curtly. "To be frank, I'm not quite sure what happened to him, nor how he managed to recover from whatever it was that ailed him."
"It was a very peculiar situation." Dumbledore agreed without giving any of his input on the matter. "May I have a few minutes with Harry, in private?"
"I don't see why not." Pomfrey said with a thoughtful look on her face.
"Thank you." Dumbledore said with a smile. We waited until the woman filed out of the room, before Dumbledore waved his wand, closing the door with a click, signifying that it was now locked. He cast a few more spells, insuring privacy. He then turned to me.
"It is good to see that you have recovered, dear boy." The old man looked a mix of relieved and pained at the same time.
"Thanks, I suppose." I answered, before my eyes widened in slight panic. "Mr. Weasley! He's in danger! He—"
"Arthur is quite all right." Dumbledore calmly assured me. "Your vision of him aided us in saving his life. A few minutes later, and he might not have been so lucky. As it is, he is making a full recovery at Saint Mungo's."
I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding. Good.
"As for you, Harry..." Dumbledore said, gaining my attention. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened."
"I'll try." I answered and cleared my throat.
"I was having... Well... What I mean to say is..." I kept trailing off, not really sure how to broach the subject. I've been having these visions of a dark hallway, which led to a certain door; but I never knew what was behind it. Only this particular vision was different than the others.
"I don't really know what it is." I admitted freely. "I think I've been having visions of a long, dark hallway, with a door at the end. I'm never shown what's beyond that door, because the visions keep ending just as I reach the thing." I continued by describing the room in further detail, trying to be as accurate as possible.
"I see." Albus looked troubled by this information. Did that place really exist?
"This particular vision was a little different, though." I said, gaining his attention. "In the others, I'm just slowly floating towards the door, and then I wake up."
"And in this one?" Albus prodded, after a moment.
"Well, I was a snake, moving along the ground. And..." I gulped, feeling a small stab of guilt. "I bit Mr. Weasley."
"It was not your fault, Harry." Dumbledore placated, putting an aged hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "As I have said before, Arthur is quite all right."
"I— Well, after I warned Ron about it. Something else happened. I—"
A thought occurred to me, and I felt around for my scar. It was gone.
"My scar's.. gone?" I said to myself, disbelievingly. Dumbledore merely stared at me quietly.
"He really was inside of my soul..." I realized. So it was true. I fought for control of my soul, and somehow won.
I looked at Dumbledore, who was giving off an aura of guilt and sadness. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out.
"You knew about it. Albus." It was not a question.
"...Yes." Dumbledore said sadly.
"..." I felt anger rising within me. More secrets?
"I—" I stopped myself from saying anything further, and took a deep breath. Acting out in anger would not solve the situation. Voldemort was still out there, biding his time, waiting for the best moment to kill me.
"Explain yourself." I calmly said, instead.
"I had only suspected such a thing could have occurred." Professor Dumbledore began wearily, feeling his age catch up with him. "There was only suspicion, and no definite proof. At least, not until your second year at Hogwarts, in which it became public knowledge that you are a Parselmouth."
"Speaking of." I said suddenly, interrupting the old man's tale. "Where's Balthazar?"
"Ah." Albus' eyes twinkled slightly. "I believe your dear friend is... entertaining Sirius as we speak."
"Entertaining him? How?" I said dumbly, trying to figure out how a snake could even hold a conversation with someone who is not a Parselmouth, let alone entertain said person. Did Balthazar learn some kind of juggling act while I wasn't looking, or something?
"I believe Sirius convinced him to write random love notes in French, and is currently sending them to certain members of the Weasley family." Dumbledore said with some levity.
"He's.. Pranking the Weasleys." Figures Sirius would use my pet snake to prank others.
"Indeed." Dumbledore said, before his expression turned somber once more. "Back to the matter at hand. You see, Harry; when I found out you were a Parselmouth, I began to suspect that Tom had done more than simply cast the Killing Curse on you. I believe that he had made you into a..." The old man hesitated for a moment. "...A horcrux."
"Whore crux." I repeated. "What does a prostitute have to do with this?"
Dumbledore simply widened his eyes at my question, completely taken aback. After a few moments of this, the old man shook his head. Whether in exasperation, or amusement, I couldn't tell.
"No, my boy. Nothing of that kind." Albus assured me hurriedly. "Horcrux, spelled out as H-o-r-c-r-u-x."
"Oh." Well, I felt stupid and embarrassed. "I'm sorry. My mind just jumped to that on its own. What's a horcrux?" I rolled the word around my head a couple of times.
"Before I tell you what it is," Dumbledore cautioned with a grave tone. "You must promise me that this information will never leave this room."
"Done." I replied immediately. "What's this about?"
Dumbledore took a breath. "A horcrux is an object in which a wizard has concealed a portion of their soul, anchoring it to the plane of the living. This prevents the sorcerer from dying by conventional methods. Should the aforementioned sorcerer's body die, it will prevent the sorcerer's soul from moving on to the afterlife; and, with the correct spellwork, it is possible to restore that soul's body."
"Like what Voldemort did last summer?" I questioned, the last part sounding somewhat familiar.
"Precisely."
"So you're saying there's a— there was a... Horcrux, in my head?" I said thoughtfully.
"So it would seem." Dumbledore confirmed with a nod. "I am unsure of how this came to be. I have studied this branch of magic extensively, and concluded that the only ways of destroying a horcrux would be with basilisk poison, or with Fiendfyre, an uncontrollable, cursed flame spell."
The old man went silent for a bit, letting me absorb that information. Half a minute passed by.
"...I think I understand." I finally said. "Both of those would kill me, without fail." I remember when the basilisk poison was running rampant through my veins at the end of my second year. It was pure, unadulterated agony, if I had to say so myself.
"Yes." The old man looked down in shame.
"I won't say I'm not mad at you." I said, looking upwards, a bit agitated by this information. "But I've killed this horcrux. We don't have the luxury of moping around, beating ourselves up over things that are out of our control."
I briefly remembered the lyrics of a song I'd heard in the past summer.
"Am I still breathing? Then nothing is as bad as it seems. So just keep breathing." I recited, out of memory, a wry grin pulling at my lips.
I turned my head to look at a misty eyed Dumbledore.
"Oh come on." I groaned exasperatedly. "Enough with the mushiness, old man."
"Of course, my boy. Of course." He wiped at his eyes.
"I'm going to take a wild guess and say he made more of these... horcruxes?" I asked, going back on topic.
"I believe so, yes."
"Any idea how many?"
"I do not know."
"Well, shit."
"Adequately put, my boy."
About an hour later, I finally managed to convince Madame Pomfrey to let me get out of the room and wander the house. Convince might be a strong word, though. In all honesty, I've probably nagged her long enough to just get rid of me for the day. Let it be known that obnoxiousness does wonders, even to the most patient of people. I slowly made my way around the house, looking for Sirius and Balthazar.
I found them in the kitchen. It was a very bizarre sight; Sirius and Balthazar eating pizza. Well, Sirius was eating it properly, while Balthazar was simply eating the toppings of pepperoni.
I had honestly thought that Sirius would not be a fan of snakes. But then again... He was the one who originally got me interested in talking to a Slytherin like Daphne. I supposed it would be a bit stupid of me to assume that he hated snakes.
"Looks like you're enjoying yourselves." I quipped, and both my Godfather and my pet snake Balthazar turned suddenly to face me.
Sirius' face broke out in a grin as he quickly made his way to me.
"You're awake!" Sirius said and gave me a big, long hug. "How're you feeling?"
"Like shit." I said wryly. "Any pizza left?"
"Of course. Come, come!" He gestured grandly to a seat adjacent to his. I took the seat and began to happily munch on a slice. It was heavenly. Don't get me wrong, the food at Hogwarts is damn near amazing, but you seriously cannot beat a pizza. It was a culinary wonder, as far as I was concerned.
Balthazar merely gave me a nod of acknowledgement and a quick §Hello!§ before he dove into his own food, relishing in the exotic taste.
I studied Sirius' face for a moment, as he was happily munching on the food. He seemed... Different, somehow. He looked less pale, and more relaxed. There was very little tension in the way he held himself. Nothing like how he used to be before I went to Hogwarts at the start of the year.
"You look good." I blurted out. That sounded wrong.
Sirius gave me a quick look, as if he was unsure of how to respond. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, as if not sure of how to answer my observation. Finally, he settled with: "Gay."
I scowled, an irritated look on my face.
"Not like that, you doofus." I said defensively. "I mean..."
"Yeah, I know what you meant, kid." Sirius said with a grin. "Not being cooped up in here has really helped me quite a bit."
"I figured as much." I smiled. "I'm glad to see you're getting better."
"Well, nothing can keep this old dog down for long." Sirius boasted with a grin.
"I'll say." I agreed, before grabbing another slice.
We sat together for a while, chatting away.
"Wait, what have you been playing, exactly?" I asked curiously, having heard one of Sirius' offhand comments.
"It's called WarFace." Sirius was explaining. "You remember that Crysis game you left on your computer for me?"
I gave a nod of recognition. "Yes. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Well, I searched around, and it seems this game was made by the same people that made Crysis. Except, this one is multiplayer." Sirius was giddily informing me. "And the best part was, it's a free-to-play game!"
Ah, the free-to-play model. I was very familiar with that concept. Last summer, I've played several games which employed this business model. These games had cash shops, where you could buy certain items that would make the game easier for you— if you ever chose to do so. Personally, I played the game without spending any currency. I found that using the cash shop was a cop-out, as well as completely unnecessary, since I could match the cash shop users without spending any money whatsoever. If anything, it made me feel a little superior to those people.
Think about it. On one hand, you have a fully decked out character who dumps thousands of dollars or pounds into a game. On the other hand, you have me, grinding through the game and getting the same gear— albeit taking more time to do so. The thing was, grinding to get my gear has given me such an understanding of the character I was using, that I could easily generate more damage than the guy who had spent thousands and did not know how to play his character.
TL;DR I was basically the best, ever.
Halfway through that line of thought, Balthazar had slithered over to me and wrapped himself around my waist, resting his head against my shoulder.
"Is it a good game?" I asked Sirius.
"Oh, yes." Sirius almost purred. "The game itself is beautiful, in terms of graphical precision. Plus, it's always fun to fight actual people. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Indeed." I answered with a smirk, and we finished our meal.
As we were throwing the pizza boxes in the trash bin, Professor Dumbledore entered the kitchen.
"Ah, I was hoping I would find you here, Harry." The wizened old man said genially.
"Yeah, I was getting pretty hungry, so..." I trailed off in explanation. Dumbledore nodded in understanding.
"What's up?" I asked curiously.
"Oh, I was about to ask you if you wished to go see Arthur." Dumbledore explained why he was here.
"Right now?"
Dumbledore gave a nod.
I scratched the back of my head, and gestured at the sweat covered clothing I was in. "All right. Just give me a little bit of time. I need to shower and put something decent on."
"There is no hurry." Dumbledore answered with a smile. "Take all the time you need."
It took around half an hour, but I was feeling refreshed and ready to go. I wore a gray t-shirt which said:
YOU
LOOK
GREAT
(PROBABLY)
I also wore some black cargo pants, my favored choice of pants. I enjoyed the freedom of movement it gave me, and it had many pockets. You never know when you might need 'em! Everything was still hurting, but it was getting more manageable.
Actually...
I nudged Balthazar, who was laying on my bed.
§I'm going to a hospital. You want to come with?§ I asked my pet snake.
§Nah.§ He immediately rejected.
§All right, then.§ I said, feeling a little disappointed that he didn't want to come with me. §Have fun with Sirius, then.§
§Oh, I will.§ Balthazar promised. Why did I feel like he liked Sirius more than he liked me?
I shook my head in exasperation and exited my room in the basement, before heading upstairs, to see Dumbledore and Sirius waiting for me.
"Are you ready?" Dumbledore went straight to the point.
"Well, for the most part." I hedged. "Could you do something for me, first?"
"Of course, Harry." Dumbledore answered, giving me a curious look. "What is it that you have in mind?"
"Shoot some lightning at me."
Both Sirius and Dumbledore gave me a strange look.
"What?" Sirius said intelligently.
"I do not understand." Dumbledore started, looking confused and a bit weary.
"Why would you want him to hurt you?" Sirius asked in equal bewilderment.
"Hurt me?" I repeated, before shaking my head. "No, this will actually help me."
"How so?" Dumbledore queried curiously.
I licked suddenly dry lips. Had I not explained this to them?
I supposed I never really did go into too much detail on how my magic worked. For all they knew, it was just wandless manipulation of the element of lightning... Which it was. Sort of.
"It's part of my Lightning Dragonslayer Magic, see?" I tried to explain. "I can actually eat any outside form of electricity."
"Truly? That is quite... Fascinating." Dumbledore said, looking a little impressed, while Sirius just stared at me. "And it does not harm you?"
"No. Quite the opposite actually." I said. "It energizes me and seems to repair my body's natural flaws. That's how my eyesight was healed."
"I had wondered about that, my boy." Dumbledore's eyes widened in realization, as if he'd solved some mystery. "I had simply thought you were employing the use of what Muggles refer to as 'contact lenses'. Quite the ingenious invention."
"That would have been a pretty good idea, but no." I replied.
"Very intriguing." Dumbledore said brightly.
"Well, can you— well..." I trailed off.
"Certainly, my boy." Dumbledore accepted, and I walked to the other side of the room, and got myself ready.
"Okay. Let 'er rip!" I quoted some movie I watched a while back.
Dumbledore waved his wand at me in an intricate pattern. "Fulguris!"
A singular, powerful bolt of lightning flew from Dumbledore's wand, impacting my body with great force. The lightning smashed into my hands, which I used to redirect the energy flow into my mouth. I grinned as my cells were supercharged with energy; energy unlike anything I've felt before. I knew Dumbledore was powerful, but the amount of energy that came from a single spell of his was almost intoxicating. I kept eating, and eating, until the flow of the spell was cut off suddenly.
The room was bathed in a bluish-white light, as my lightning freely roamed over my form. I stared at my hand for a moment, trying to understand the level of energy my body was holding right now. I could feel my aches and my fatigue fading away into the maelstrom of energy pervading my body. I reined the energy in, compressing it inside of myself, further and further. The light around me dimmed as fewer and fewer electrical sparks shot around my body.
I looked at Dumbledore and Sirius, who were staring at me with some form of awe. Dumbledore himself, was looking pretty tired.
"Incredible." Dumbledore gasped out tiredly. He was grabbing onto Sirius.
"Woah." I rushed over to the old man. "You alright, Albus?"
Professor Dumbledore took a few moments to take in a few deep breaths, and steadied himself under his own power.
"I am fine." He said, looking a little tired. "I seem to have exhausted half of my magical reserves. Nothing a good night's sleep can't fix."
Half of.. Dumbledore's magic?
"I must admit." Dumbledore finally looked like he caught his breath. "I was only channeling a minute amount of my reserves, at first."
"At first?" I prodded. Dumbledore gave a nod.
"It seemed as if it was doing very little. So I simply increased the energy output until I felt you were... 'full', so to speak." Dumbledore explained, staring intensely at his wand. He seemed to be carefully scrutinizing it. Why?
I supposed it didn't really matter. Dumbledore shook his head.
"I am impressed, Harry." Dumbledore praised. "I had not thought that your reserves would have reached this level at such a young age."
I shrugged, not really understanding how this was possible, either. The man had over a hundred years on me, and yet I possessed roughly around half of his reserves. Then again, my soul— at least, I think it was my soul— told me that my reserves would increase by a fair margin.
"Alas, this conversation will have to be delayed, at least for a while still." Dumbledore seemed a little chagrined about that as he reached into his robe and produced a pocket watch. "We have to be off!"
Yes. Off to see Mr. Weasley!
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I've got midterms next week, so updates won't even be a thought in my head until after I'm done with those.
Thank you for your support!
And in case you're wondering, I've decided to use the term Dragonslayer instead of Dragon Slayer. Just felt like it.