Edited 04/25/2020
For a month he meditated. His mind was blank no thought or feelings passed through it. He only reacted to the essence around him and the pain. Sever the impurity thrice and add the purified essence to his spiritual sea. Blood flowed from his ears, eyes, and nose. Filth excreted from his pours and caked his flesh. The air in his room was stale and rotten. Mold covered the walls and Harrys clothes were rotting. He was a machine that refined essence.
His eyes snapped open aglow with green qi. The glow soon ended as hardened filth fell off his face. Like a bird breaking out of his shell he was raw. More filth fell away as he stood up.
At this moment, he had far more qi in his body than ever before. There was enough qi in his body to affect the world around him. Harry waved his arm and the filth fell away.
He pulled an oversized shirt from a drawer and wiped the filth from a mirror. Through the mirror he saw the state of his body. His ribs shown through his skin, but he didn't look emaciated. His qi had fed his body instead of mortal food. It still wasn't healthy. He needed to eat soon, or he might die. That would just make his aunt too happy.
Harry glanced at the filth covered journals. His qi empowered will pulled the filth and mold from the journals. He rubbed at his scar feeling something odd but paid it no mind. His joints popped about
Even without meditating, he could feel himself absorb essence. At some point during his meditation his body learned how to draw upon essence naturally. He'd severed essence so often it was like breathing. Every few minutes, he completed a cultivation cycle. The passive cultivation was a sign Harry was at the cusp of the second stage of refinery. It was impossible to break through with meditation alone.
He opened his door and watched a layer of filth fall to the floor. After shutting it silently, he made his way downstairs. The more qi he gathered the stronger he'd become. His power of severing had greatly enhanced his cultivation. But if he didn't eat soon, he'd die.
It was midnight and not a Dursley was in the house. Meditation didn't always increase his perception of world around him. There was a coolness to his mind, a balance. For a month it felt like he had died and become a machine that could only refine and absorb essence.
"Oh, what's this?" Harry said in a rough voice.
Harry took a plate from the fridge and tossed its contents in a skillet. The plate was filled of raw steaks in a marinade. It was probably dinner for the Dursleys. Harry poured himself a glass of water and drank it down. Then he moved on to a new carton of orange juice. After drinking it down, he flipped the steaks.
"Why thank you for the food Aunt and Uncle." Harry said.
He flicked his hand causing the carton to crash against the wall. The top shot off and the carton squished itself flat. The wall seemed unbothered by Harry's actions.
Harry ate the meat slowly each bite was armed with severing qi. Once full, he rummaged through the living room finding a few quid in the couches and on the tele. He flipped through a bible and took the money stored within.
Above the fireplace in a place of honor, he found a strange book that made his sixth sense go haywire. He lit a campfire and searched through the silverware for a set of tongs. Pushing his will against the book was weird. He couldn't touch it, so the tongs. The second the tongs touched the book they began to rust. He quickly tossed the book in the fire. The tongs crumbled into dust.
After ten minutes the book hadn't begun burning. That wasn't a good sign. He reached into the flames with two metal spatulas. There were many ways to get rid of a book. Harry felt something try to latch on to him only for his qi to sever it. This book was machine printed so it wasn't that archaic. That didn't mean the information within wasn't cursed or possibly sentient.
"What have they gotten themselves into?" Harry asked. It would've been smart to get out while he could.
Steel sharpens steel. He needed to find someone to learn from the journals. That was what the black thread wanted. If he was to reach the next stage, he needed steel to sharpen himself against. For that the knowledge of cultivation needed to spread far and wide.
He broke into master bedroom and searched for jewelry to pawn or any petty cash. Perhaps, he could find one of the local opium addicts and ask directions to the nearest fence. It was shameful that he didn't have a bag of holding or he could have stripped the room bare. Harry made sure to go to Dudley's bedroom and flip the mattress. All the money Dudley had taken over the years was stored here. Dudley wanted for nothing; he took the money for fun.
Harry walked away with a good amount. Not that it mattered he'd probably only eat a meal ever week or two. He didn't really need much in the way of shelter or sleep. Cloths were an issue. He needed to dress well enough to blend in but not well enough to stick out.
After a second search, he packed the best of his findings in a backpack and left. The moon caught his attention when he shut the front door behind him. It felt weird, the moon was as disturbing as the book inside. Before he could focus on the moon something tugged at his chest directing him in a different direction. Harry felt his consciousness slip away as the thread tugged.
The whistle of a train knocked him back to lucidity. He needed to find someone to give the journals to. It was a chain letter. Once he read the contents of the journals, he had to copy the letter and give it to a new person. The sun peaked through the train windows illuminating the dark train. The feeling tugged gently on Harry's divided spiritual sea; he didn't have much time before he blacked out again.
He walked through the train. People were seated reading newspapers and books. He found an older gentleman by himself smoking a pipe. Harry could have chosen anyone to offload his journals to, but this man felt right. The black thread tugged at him eagerly.
Harry approached the old man journals in hand. He waited patiently as the man ignored him.
The old man continued to puff on his pipe. Looking away from Harry. Some of the other passengers started to turn their attention to the old man.
"Sir you aren't fooling anyone. My name is Harry Potter, could you read my book and tell me what you think? I'm an aspiring author." Harry said.
"Boy why are you bothering me. I'm not the only active reader on this train. I'm sure another person would be better." Harry had no idea either, but this was the guy. The black thread demanded it.
"You look well read. Are you an editor or an author yourself perhaps?" The old man sucked on his pipe and let out a sigh.
"How does one look well read. My pipe perhaps, I'm an author. My name Fred Cleveland." Another puff of smoke left the man's pipe. "Fine, I'll read your novel." Mr. Cleveland said. Harry smiled; peer pressure was the best pressure.
Outside of his home Harry could only feel the black thread, the tugging stopped as the old man started to read the journal. The people slowly dropped their gazes and returned to their own business. Reaching into his backpack, he placed the other nine journals beside the old man.
A smile covered Harry's face. The black thread stopped its tugging. The old man was the next step. He was an actual author and would most likely rewrite the books and pass them on.
The train began to slow, and Harry got off. The attention of the black thread was far away. Harry traveled down the back streets of London.
There were plenty of addicts in the grey stone back alleys. But there weren't any that he wanted. Harry was after a type.
"Hey kid come over here, I have something that will make you feel good." Harry turned to see a man with a bottle of pills in his hand. The man was larger than Uncle Vernon.
Harry took a breath relaxing in the feeling of a clear mind. The thread still tugged at him slightly, but it wasn't anxious. Now that his sixth sense was more developed, he could tell the first book was general. It was the toe in the door of this world. That didn't matter to Harry anymore.
"Mister, do you know where I can find a fence? I have some jewelry I need to offload. A man who sells untraceable guns would be nice." The large man smiled.
"Little mate you sound like loads of fun. Whose arse do you want to pop a cap into? Is it a school bully?" Harry frowned and narrowed his eyes. There was glint coming from the man's jacket, the barrel of a revolver perhaps.
Harry knew he was roughly as strong as 1.5 horses. Sweat began to bead from his back as he decided to do something. His knee bent and the older man's eyes widened, and his hand moved for the gun.
Harry took off like a bullet. The gun was halfway out of the man's jacket when Harry drove his elbow into the man's solar plexus. Two steps and a turn brought him beside the man. He reached out and snatched the gun. Knowledge would be useful, but he wanted the gun for free. There was always another thug.
The thug began to puke a stream of blood and his face went red, blue, and then purple. He'd only seen this type of gun in cowboy movies. Of those he'd only seen quick glances. The man began to shake gasping for breath that never came. He spat something that looked very much like a piece of his lung. Oops!
Harry had only planned to knock the breath out of him. Damn, he accidently killed another mortal. At least he didn't really know this guy. He didn't really know Piers either. Maybe that was why he didn't feel bad anymore about killing him. Harry's mind still felt balanced and cool. His spiritual sea was calming it was gentle sea a little splash like the accidental murder of a mortal didn't bother it. Waves crashed all the time like the fact his parents were a witch and wizard. His aunt received sexual pleasure from their deaths and from neglecting Harry, was a massive wave.
While the man choked to death, Harry went through his belongings taking the bottle of oxy and anything else he could find. He'd need to offload soon. His backpack was getting full. A drug dealers' weapon was just the ticket for dealing with the Dursleys. Karma must always be severed.
Still he felt a little bad about killing the man. He might have been a dirty drug dealer who'd sell addictive drugs to children, but he was still human. Harry shook his head; he'd probably saved the lives of dozens.
Bang!
Harry felt red hot pain in his chest. His body spun around giving him a look at his attacker. Another man this on looked emaciated his body was shaking. When Harry landed the junky quickly took Harry's backpack.
Qi quickly spread through his body. Harry opened his mouth and yelled as the qi poured through him. The wound began to close as Harry's body began to heal. This was a breakthrough.
His body glowed green as he finally broke into the 2nd stage.