Chapter 5; a Babe in the Woods

Harry's fourth year was marked with a much greater degree of freedom and autonomy. Under the effects of polyjuice, he was able to accompany Tippy on her visits to the town. Needless to say, he was thrilled with the prospect. Being shut in their small quarters with little company, was not ideal for a young boy. Likewise, dedicating himself to intensive study had not helped his demeanor and had even resulted in Harry developing near-sightedness. Luckily, Tippy had produced an old pair of spectacles that used to belong to his father. Still, better vision was little reprieve from cabin fever. Even if Harry was better spokenthan a normal child, though with a decidedly more colorful vocabulary, he was still a child with a child's desire for interaction. He was able to assume the appearance of a young muggle tourist, and was even able to join in a few games of football with the village kids. He even learned a few valuable lessons in proper behavior, when he got roundly beaten up after referring to one of his playmates as a "plumped up whore."

This was not his only misstep in the outside world. Once on a visit to the greengrocer, he was collared by the owner after trying to walk out of the store with some candy, without paying for it. Harry didn't intend to steal, he had simply never been exposed to the concept of money or, indeed, private property. With much begging and cajoling, Tippy was able to get him released to her custody, with a promise to inform the Head of the House of his misbehavior. The grocer might not have been so lenient if he himself had not been guilty of a few youthful indiscretion or had he been aware that the head of the family was Harry himself. A few missteps aside, Harry learned a lot by being allowed outside the home and making a few casual acquaintances.

Harry was also allowed to occasionally hike in the woods on the Manor grounds. Many afternoons would find Harry and Tippy happily chasing each other through the trees, brandishing sticks and crying out such things as "avast ye scurvy dog!" and "hoist 'em up the mains'l!" The tutelage of Charlus Potter led to a great deal of colorful dialogue and no shortage of adventurer's tales to act out. Surprisingly, the elf seemed to delight in these adolescent fantasies, proving that blind subservience did not equate to a lack of imagination or intelligence. She was, however, very careful not to do any magic that was not covered by the wards. This was soon proven to be a wise decision.

While playing hide-and-seek with Harry on the grounds, Tippy startled the young wizard who was hiding under an overturned tree. Spying him in his hiding spot, Tippy slowly and carefully crawled along the great trunk, keeping it between her and her prey. When she had positioned herself just over his position, she grabbed the boll with her nimble fingers and swung herself over the side, to land in a crouch just in front of Harry. Startled by her sudden appearance and anxious to avoid capture, Harry twirled around and instantly disappeared with a sudden crack of apparation. Scared out of her mind, Tippy ran through the woods calling his name. Soon after he was found clinging to the topmost eaves of the manor house. Tippy popped over to his location and disapparated them both to solid ground.

After hugging Harry and assuring herself that he was unharmed, she got a fright herself when they heard the telltale pop of someone else apparating onto the property. She twirled on her feet and could just make out the red robes of an auror in the distance. Grabbing Harry by the scruff of the neck, she quickly dragged him inside the house, locked the door and popped them both to their basement apartment. After a blistering chastisement from both uncle Charlus and the scared elf, Harry apologized for his accidental magic. Normally such accidents were dismissed by wizarding parents, but not when the youth in question was living in a supposedly abandoned property belonging to long dead wizards. Soon after, it was decided that Harry should be taught to control his magic.

By the time Harry was nearing his sixth birthday, Charlus had already taught him the basics in potions and ancient runes as well as the beginnings of arithmancy. Under his direction, Harry had carefully inscribed runes, drawn in his own blood, to the foundation stones of the Manor. They chose the combination or Algiz meaning secrecy and Othala, meaning ancestral home. When used together and cast with Harry's blood, they had the effect of shielding Harry from detection while in the Manor proper. While not as effective as a Fidelius charm, they were an added protection that would suffice unless the runes themselves were attacked and destroyed.

Charlus also developed a plan to begin teaching the basics of spellcasting. Because Harry's magical core would remain unstable until he neared the age of eleven, complex spells would remain beyond his ability. Charlus, after studying several tomes liberated from the Potter family library, had come up with a way to supposedly help in Harry's magical maturation. The first step was to improve Harry's mental focus. This involved having Harry cast and maintain the lumos spell, while Charlus and Tippy tried to distract him. Harry had been able to cast that spell for years, but found it significantly harder with Charlus shouting insults and Tippy whacking him with a charmed pillow. At first, he could barely hold the spell for a minute before both he and the spell collapsed. After one trying afternoon, Harry's temper got the best of him and both he and Tippy disappeared in a cloud of feathers as the pillow exploded in a violent burst of accidental magic. Other times Harry would simply refuse to participate, preferring instead to engage in more childish pursuits. Eventually though, they were able to convince him to continue, mainly by bribing him with thoughts of all the things he could do when he was able to use his wand.

Charlus also remembered some techniques taught to him by his own father when he was trying to learn to fundamentals of occulmency. While never very accomplished in the skill, some of the techniques used were very helpful in leaning to clear your mind of external distractions. The techniques themselves were borrowed from ancient Buddhist teachings on meditation. Often in the afternoons, just before his nap, Charlus had Harry sitting cross legged on the sitting room floor with his eyes closed tight. He would then try to focus his thoughts on a single image, one that was free of any association within Harry's mind. Harry chose the image of a burning candle. Whenever stray thoughts would enter his head, Harry fed them into the flame. This proved to be an excellent technique and aided Harry greatly. It also had a pleasant added side effect, for both Tippy and Charlus, of helping Harry relax enough to take his nap without complaint.

After nearly a month of practice, Harry was able to hold the lumos spell for as long as he wished. In Charlus' judgement he had succeeded in sharpening his mental focus to the degree necessary to proceed with phase two of his plan; the ritual.

The library at Potter Manor was quite impressive. The nearly two-story room was lined in towering oak shelves burnished to deep golden brown with hundreds of years of accumulated polish. Tall, spindly ladders were attached to the shelves and could slide back and forth to peruse any of the thousands of books that lined the shelves. Many of the books were rare vellum manuscripts, hand-written by members of their line. Others were rare editions, grimoires and other treasures that would be the envy of any bibliophile. Together, the more than equaled the value of the Manor itself. Material objects could be conjured, but the knowledge contained in the library was quite priceless.

The Potters were, after all, one of the ancient houses. There were tomes on many arcane and ancient rites that predated modern times. Many such rituals, often proscribed under ministry edict, were considered dark. Many of them were looked upon as outdated by the modern wizard. One such, found under the innocuous title Harvest and Plenty, described the perfect answer to Harry's dillemma. The ritual, known as Rite of Deepening, used a combination of a runic circle, the caster's will, and a willing blood sacrifice. Under a full Harvest moon, the caster would inscribe the runes of strength, stability, and mature growth using their blood and the blood of a unicorn, willingly given. The book further described how the ancient druids use to form a greater circle of seven casters surrounding the central circle. These druids would offer protection during the rite, because the caster would be very vulnerable during the process and any external disruptions could spoil the casting, sometimes with disastrous results. It seems, sometime in the ancient past, a lone druid had attempted the rite without the protection of a greater circle. During the casting, a raven landed within the inner circle, drawn by the scent of blood. The raven's intent, that of intense hunger, influenced the casting. When the rite was ended, the druid survived but forever after hungered after unicorn blood. He was killed some few years later, skewered at the end of a unicorn's horn.

If successfully used by a focused caster with strong enough intent, the effect could be many fold. If power was the object, an increase in power could be gained. Increased lifespan, fertility, mental acuity, purity of heart; all could be achieved, provided they were a natural characteristic of the sacrifice. Dark intent or malicious intentions were impossible using the Rite of Deepening, because those characteristics were nowhere to be found in the blood of a noble unicorn. The problem with performing the ritual was first, finding a willing unicorn to donate the blood for the ritual, and focusing the mind with sufficient intent on the quality sought. With every additional quality sought, the chances of failure increased dramatically. Stability of a magical core was a difficult concept to visualize. In order to overcome this hurdle, Charlus taught Harry the detection spell used by mediwizards to gauge damage to a wizard's core. It was by far the most difficult and exausting spell Harry had ever attempted to master. In the end, it took nearly six months to accomplish.

Eventually Harry was able to sense his own core and take notice of the ocillations and changes that it underwent. To Harry's senses, it resembled nothing more than the merry-go-round that he had seen in the village playground, except that it glowed in a tight blue ball below his breastbone. Certainly, it seemed to spin erratically, occasionally pulsing with an eerie red light. Of course, Harry had nothing to compare it to, so he had no idea what an adult core should look like. When he tried the charm on Tippy, her entire body lit up in a diffuse yellow light, much like her entire body was lit with candlelight. Harry reckoned that the difference was that house elves' magic existed within their entire bodies, rather than just within a core. To Harry, it seemed one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. Much different than the spinning, pulsing maelstrom at his own core. To him it made the loving, caring elf who had been nurse and mother to him, seem all the more beautiful.

Charlus had determined that the most auspicious time to perform the ritual would be October 7th. They both believed that Harry was ready, but still had to locate a willing unicorn. Supposedly, one could buy unicorn blood that was given willingly, but the risks were too great if it turned out to gotten by more unsavory methods. Indeed, unicorn blood was one of the world's most magical substances and could save a person, even on the brink of death, but if taken forcefully would exact a price too horrible to consider. However, the only place in England that they were sure to find a unicorn was in the Forbidden Forest on the very grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the risks of discovery, they knew that was where they would have to go.

October 6th, 1987

Harry and Tippy entered the forbidden forest from Hogsmeade. The trip had been easier than Harry had imagined. Tippy, it seemed, had travelled to Hogsmeade many times before, bringing Harry's father things he had left behind in his haste to make the Hogwarts Express. Harry grabbed onto her arm and in a dizzying flash of color, he was standing in an alley on the side of a jovial looking pub called the Three Broomsticks. The laughter that boomed out of the half open doorway made Harry long to peek inside, but Tippy dragged him along before he could so much as get a glimpse. If anyone thought it odd to see a middle-aged man being dragged along by a diminuative house elf, they kept their opinions to themselves or else Harry was gone before he could hear them. From what he could see, Hogsmeade was a sleepy little village, not much different than Godric's Hollow, except that the buildings were a little more quaint and that was a noticeable absence of automobiles. Harry did have an odd feeling of being watched as they passed the shack on the edge of town, but dismissed it as a case of nerves.

They passed quickly to the outskirts of town and Harry was a little overwhelmed by his first sight of the Forbidden Forest. The trees towered over him and soon disappeared in the dark shadows that loomed just a few feet past the treeline. Harry carried a pack on his back that was expanded on the inside, so that he could carry all the supplies they would need. They had rolled up Charlus' painting and carried that with them, as well. Charlus had grumbled throughout the entire process but had agreed that it was necessary that he be there for advice and counsel, if needed. Both he and Harry had drilled endlessly on the steps necessary to invoke the ritual and practiced drawing the runes until Harry's cramped fingers could write no more and he could draw the runes in his sleep. Where they obviously didn't have seven druids to form a greater circle, they had agreed that Tippy could provide Harry with the protection he needed, and had included some of the ward stones Harry had made, identical to the ones used at the Manor.

Harry and Tippy entered the forest walking at a leisurely pace, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. They walked for over an hour over uneven, rocky ground without incident, except that Harry tripped over the gnarled root of an ancient elm and twisted his ankle. As they were nearing midday, the elf, who had taken the lead, held up her hand for Harry to stop. He was about to ask her what was the matter when he noticed that they had happened on a little glade. On the edge of the glade there stood a magnificent white unicorn and a small golden colored foal, grazing on the sparse grass. The mare stomped on the ground with her hoof and snorted loudly in the brisk autumn air. Harry was rapt. He had never in his short life seen anything that compared to the beauty of those majestic creatures. The foal was a vision of innocence and purity and the silver horned mare was truly regal in her bearing. Their lustrous coats sparkled in the noonday sun and their eyes were like the purest silver.

It was then that Harry noticed that the unicorn was looking directly at them in a manner that was far from friendly! Just as they had practiced, Harry slowly reached into his pack and withdrew a bundle of winter blossoms that he had picked up from the apothecary in the village. With careful, measured steps and a bowed head, Harry walked into the glade. Harry knew better than to make eye contact with an adult unicorn. Unicorns were proud animals and would brook no challenge to the authority. Harry also knew, without being told, that this one had the added protectiveness of a mother caring for her foal. Harry could not remember his mother, but he knew from stories told by Tippy and Charlus, that she had been fiercely protective of Harry as a baby. He couldn't help but be a little envious of the little foal, but he was also happy that she had a mother that loved and protected her.

As Harry neared the center of the clearing, he could tell that the mare was growing increasingly frustrated. Her stamping and huffing grew in volume and frequency until it sounded as though she were practically dancing in agitation. Harry decided, in a moment of self-preservation, that he had travelled far enough. Slowly he lowered himself to his knees, kneeling in the short brown grass. He kept his eyes lowered and raised the bouquet of flowers above his head, as if in supplication. There he waited for long, interminable moments for the mare to either accept him or attack. There was no thought in his head of self-defense. He knew that the unicorn would make short work of him if she so desired. There was no thought of escape. Few creatures were as fleet as an adult unicorn. His only thought was his hope for her judgment and acceptance.

After what seemed like forever, the sounds coming from the mare quieted, but still the waiting stretched on. Harry's ankle was sore, his arms were burning with fatigue and one of his knees had started to hurt where it rested on a rock hidden beneath the soil and grass. Still he waited silently. At long last, Harry felt a tug on the flowers he was still holding above his head. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry with relief. Even so, he almost jumped out of his skin when he felt the touch of the creatures horn on the top of his head. Slowly, Harry raised his head and found himself looking eye to eye with the mother unicorn. She gently bobbed her head, signifying that Harry could safely touch her.

On creaky legs, Harry stood and reached out his hand. Gently, he touched her beautiful mane and ran his hand down her muscled foreleg. The unicorn seemed to enjoy the attention and fairly radiated calm repose. It was so opposed to her earlier actions that Harry was truly awed by her acceptance. Behind her he could see the little golden foal that was shyly hiding behind her mother's legs. When the foal looked at Harry, he felt a great kinship with the little thing. Slowly he stepped around the mare and once again lowered himself to his knees and bowed his head. Before he knew it, he felt a gentle bump on the top of his head and looked up to find the foal bobbing her head up and down for all she was worth. So taken with humor at the sight, Harry couldn't help but burst out in laughter. The mare too seemed to find it funny, because she snorted and shook her head with a definite twinkle in her eye as she watched the young foal's antics.

Harry stood up and patted the foal's neck and scratched her behind her ears, which she seemed to enjoy immensely. When his laughter died down, Harry was so overcome with emotion at finding acceptance with the protective mare and her foal that he could not help but bury his head in the soft hair of the unicorn's mane and weep tears of relief and joy. He didn't notice, but the mare was also crying pearly blue tears which fell like rain on the parched grass at his feet.

When his tears had dried, Harry spoke to the mare. Hesitantly at first, but with growing confidence, he told her what they were trying to accomplish. Some might think it weird to expect an animal to understand his words, but Harry had no doubt she could. Her eyes radiated a kind of fierce intelligence that left no mistake. He told her of his parent's death and his years of hiding and exile. He told them of his love for Tippy and for his Uncle's painting. He told them of his need to learn to control his magic so he could help his godfather escape his prison. Finally, he told them of the ritual and how it required both his blood and the blood of a unicorn.

By the time he had finished, he was quite exhausted, both emotionally and physically. In the silence that followed, the mare continued to scrutinize him with calm regard. Then, she suddenly bent her neck and sliced open her flank with the tip of her horn. So complete was Harry's shock and amazement that for a long moment he stood still, his mouth open and his eyes wide in disbelief. It was only as he heard her whinny that he noticed the copious amounts of bluish-silver blood running from the wound.

Quickly, Harry grabbed his bag and pulled out the empty vial. Placing it near the gash, Harry filled the vial up with the precious fluid and replaced the cork. Stepping back, he watched as the unicorn once again bent her neck and touched her horn to the wound. This time, Harry saw a flash of gentle light and when the mare straightened her neck again, Harry saw that the wound had been completely healed. Harry carefully placed the vial back into his pack and when he straightened back up he was shocked to see that he was completely alone in the clearing. Just that quick, the unicorns were gone.