Disclaimer: Anyone would think the fact that this is on a fan fic site would be enough to tell you all that I own nothing JK Rowling and the Warner Bros trolls own. That being said, I am also riffing off a story called The Power of the Press, whose author would know what is his.
Rating: I'm a little confused by this system. I suspect PG:13 would be best for anything I write, though
Notes: Don't expect regular postings, sadly. I write in fits and starts.
Chapter Five: Blood Rituals
Then the weekend was upon them again before there were any more meetings, and Henry had another appointment with the healers. They seemed very pleased with his physical progress and applied some scar healing balm, before the professor who had been in charge of the ritual before sat him down for a serious talk.
"Mr. Carpenter, it seems that this dark magic from your forehead was actually a piece of a soul, almost twisted past recognition as such." He paused and indicated the ducky, which was sitting in a Plexiglas case crawling with glowing runes next to him. "We'd like your permission to study it a bit before we destroy it, as I said last week, before destroying it, especially as there seem to be some connections to it visible under mage sight, possibly to other soul pieces."
"Would you be able to destroy those as well if you studied it, or whatever?" Henry was at his most serious, "and can you promise to completely destroy this thing sometime soon?"
"I'd love to, but we might not be able to safely destroy it for a while, as some of us suspect it still has some affinity for you that will allow you to vanquish it without incurring any of the curses it may invoke."
"Well, if that is the case for the other pieces as well, you should do some work towards finding them, so I can help destroy all of them once I've learned the skills," Henry said firmly.
"Thank you, Mr. Carpenter. You are very wise for you age. Now I think the healers have one more thing to talk to you about before you go," he said before getting up and leaving the boy.
The head healer for the department came in from the doorway where she'd been waiting and said, "we've been getting some interesting reports of your magical powers from administration, since removing the binding, and would like to schedule a time to administer a talent revealing potion, so we can be sure of what skills were being bound, in addition to usual security reasons."
"Why do you have to schedule a special time? Can't we just do it one of these weekends?"
"Well, we do usually need family permission, as some of the old families have some talents they like to keep private. Also, you must be completely free of any other potions in your system."
"So basically it will just have to wait till I'm off the nutrient potions, if ever. My mundane guardians will never sign any papers for me," Henry said bitterly, "though Id' certainly like to know what I can do, as well."
"You mean the Dixon's, correct? The people responsible for you coming here with all those injuries and the malnutrition," the healer's tone was quite flat.
"Well, they are the only family that I know about having."
"You might want to do an inheritance ritual at the bank, if there's any chance that you may have some possible magical family or ancestors. Wouldn't be the first time. At the very least, you should get in contact with some lawyers; try to get yourself emancipated or another guardian. We have more than enough evidence to have you removed form their care, if not persecuted under regular laws for neglect. Think about it, and we'll see you next week," she added in a kinder tone.
Speechless, Henry left the hospital wing and wandered absently towards the library. He had never thought about trying to get away from the Dixons before, or about whether his parents had left him anything, if there even were other possible family members of his out there. It was all a total revelation to the poor boy, more so than the idea of magic, seeing as he'd been using that for years. He sat in the library, doing nothing, till it started to empty.
It was only the newly filled box of potions in front of him that reminded Henry they were going to lunch. After all, even on his best days, hunger had little power to compel him, so used to ignoring such pangs he had become during his childhood. As soon as he had finished hastily eating his food, Henry went back to the library to write his remaining homework, so that he could look for lawyers, as advised. It was rather slow going, at first, since he didn't have a clue where to look, or if there were magical lawyers, or if he had to find some in the regular world who could be contacted from a magical school. Finally, he cracked, and asked a librarian, who was able to help him find some lawyers who specialized in the kind of areas that would be needed to help him, and some tips on how to tell if they were any good, or some kind of scam.
He actually was able to send out a few emails that very evening before turning in for the night, as the school had a bunch of apple computers that could apparently run around magic. Now, according to the helpful librarian, all he could do was wait and pray for some responses when the weekend was over. Upon getting back to his room, Henry found Blake laying out nice clothes, including a tie. It turned out the boy would be going to the Lentz mission every Sunday, since, as he put it, "it is the only church they let us go to here."
"So you really are religious and pray and stuff? I've never really known a Christian before," Henry said.
"Yeah, I just kind of grew up that way, so I'm used to it. You have a problem with that?"
"No, honestly, my relatives kinda hated religion as much as magic, so I figure it can't be that bad," he said with a little laugh, "how do you pray? Does it really help, like magical spells?"
"Well, it's not actually magic, otherwise regular people couldn't do it. But I think it helps somehow. You should come to church if you really want to know more or learn how. I'm not too good at explaining stuff, " Blake seemed slightly defensive.
"Do I have to dress up?"
"I'm the one who's going to look out of place, mate, you saw all the locals there—they mostly were in running shorts."
Henry laughed at that, but did decide not to wear actual wizard robes, just in case they didn't all know about magic there. The service that morning was much the same as the last one Henry had been at, except with less singing, and about half of the count of students had been replaced by older kids, all of whom, like Blake, seemed to know what was going on. He felt even more lost, but Henry waited around till it was over, wanting to talk to somebody in charge about praying. As desperate as he was to stay out from under the Dixon's "care," he just had to give this praying thing a try. But both the pastor and his wife were completely occupied by talking to a group of returning students, so he just stood there, feeling very uncomfortable.
Then, one of them came over to him, a red-headed girl in a skirt. "Hey there little guy, you look a little lost. Anything I can do to help?"
"I wanted to talk to the pastor or whatever about praying, but he's busy," Henry replied, angry at himself for how close to tears he sounded, "I don't know how, and there's something I must pray about."
"Well, maybe I can explain it to you a bit," she held out her hand to shake, "Let me introduce myself—I'm Lauren Lentz, their daughter. I might just know a few things about praying."
She was very nice and cheerful, and Henry could feel himself relaxing as he ended up spilling out the whole story to her, even though she was basically a stranger. She waited till he was all done, then told him about how prayer was talking to God, which meant she had to explain what God was all about, since he'd only heard the word when people were swearing. Lauren didn't seem to think he was stupid for that, which was a relief to the boy. She'd written down a few simple practice prayers for him in his pocket notebook, and offered to pray for him also.
"Should I ask my roommate who goes to church to pray for me too?" Henry sounded concerned.
"Only if you want to, ok? Do you want me to pray with you now, before we both go back to school?"
He agreed, and she said a nice little prayer for him, before flooing back to the institute. With a grin, Henry carefully thought of the entrance area, right next to a fire, and quietly popped there, hoping people would just think he'd gone in the regular fashion, as a result. Nobody looked at him strangely, till the next day in writing class, but then, it wasn't the first time professor Lowell had given him odd looks, so Henry tried to ignore the man's attentions. Of course, ignoring a teacher while in their class is always problematic, and he was barely able to take notes. Everyone laughed at him when the professor asked him to stay after class for a moment. Henry sighed and packed up his notebook and texts anyways while he waited for his classmates to clear out.
"You looked a little spaced out today, Henry," the teacher said, "I saw your trick last nigh. Feeling a little magical exhaustion?"
"I don't like being stared at, sir? Why should I have exhausted myself, anyways? I just popped back to school, not a half a dozen times or across the world," he sighed, "aren't you teachers supposed to be formal and call us by our last names?"
"Ah, yes of course, I just felt that well, perhaps I was wrong," Lowell was suddenly unable to meet the boy's eyes, rubbing the back of his neck, "is that apparition really that easy for you, not a bit draining?"
Henry tried not to shiver at the desperate, almost hungry stare returning to his teacher's face. "Is it that unnatural for me to have that kind of power that makes all you teachers react so oddly to me?"
"Yes, well no, that's not the only reason, wait, other teachers are treating you oddly?" The man was back to stumbling over his words.
"The gym coach still seems afraid of me, except that he pushes me harder than any of the other kids. I guess he's the only one besides you," Henry trailed off, "except Laurel was startled when I mentioned the fire, now that I think of it."
"Laurel who? Oh, so you're on first names with Miss Enger," Lowell sounded jealous or disappointed, "I want to ask about this fire of which you speak, but yes, your power levels are somewhat rare for your age. Those who have been like you, they've gone on to be great or terrible. This school, they bring you in once you reach a certain amount of power. Surely you've noticed how much younger you are?"
"I'm not the youngest this year, sir. One of the girls," he paused, "look, I have to go to my next class, are we done?"
Then Henry slipped out of the room before the teacher could properly dismiss him, or ask about the fire again. What was it that made him want to trust the man, despite his slightly creepy staring? The rest of the day passed in a haze, and that night, he dreamed of a forest clearing, almost a meadow, dotted with flowers. A fox darted out of the trees, and played in the sun with him, yipping and leaping through the leaves, petals landing in its fur. Suddenly, night came in a moment, the sun becoming the moon, and the fox seemed to burst, becoming a wolf, which howled mournfully, ignoring him as the miserable sound continued, echoing in his ears for a long time after he woke up in the brief pre-dawn haze of those tropical climes. Not having any homework yet, and nearing the point of being far enough ahead in class readings to confuse himself, Henry headed for the library, to see if the magical world had anything to say about weird dreams, if anything.
The section of this library on seers did have a lot of books about dream interpretation, but since he'd seen about half of them at Borders and Noble last time he'd gone looking for answers about his strange nocturnal experiences, Henry gave up on that subject. He wandered around randomly, looking to see if any books were on the subject of memory, till he realized they were more like guides for the legal enforcers who had to erase the memories of ordinary people who had the misfortune of seeing some display of magic. He noticed a book on enhanced magical senses, but was an appendix volume to a book on being an animagus. There were probably potions that could mess with minds and how they dreamed, but Henry was pretty sure he hadn't grown up under the influence of any such thing. Libraries had long been a refuge for the boy, but now this one seemed to be unable to help him.
Henry was heading towards the door when he noticed a Latin-English dictionary laying out on a table. They were very popular with the older students, given the language's popularity in European magic. On a whim, he sat and flipped through, pausing to look up a few things. Dreams, visions, magic, prayer, souls, blood, power, Lowell, Reynard—wolf, fox! Somehow, he had known this in his dreams already, but how? He almost made himself late for class, as lost in thought as he was. It was a good thing his classes were so physical on Tuesdays, as the activity kept him focused. They usually spend the whole first period of herbology harvesting some strange plant, while being lectured on its care, before having to go and brew something out of it in the potions half of the class. It was no wonder that most magical folk either chose to purchase potions ingredients, or had horrifying gardens. Far too many of these plants moved for the tastes of a boy who'd grown up caring for a scrupulously normal and tidy garden for his aunt.
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Far away in such a dull and even winter-dead garden, a young girl knelt in nothing more than a white nightgown and saluted a rising moon.
"Dying and rising, day by day, night with sliver of light," she slowly intoned in a sing-song monotone before biting her thumb and letting three drops of blood fall into the dirt below, "blood for blood, life for life. May the deep magic ever flow within and without."
In silence she rose, her hair as wild as the hedges bordering the tiny garden, and slowly walked back into the nearby house. In the faint light of the crescent moon, her blood droplets glistened darkly, before vanishing entirely into the soil.
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With a jerk, Henry hauled himself up and over the chin-up bar. "How many more coach? I'm not too tired, but my palms are getting sweaty."
"Five more boy, God knows you have it in you. And as for the rest of you, be glad I don't give you extra work, unless of course you want to get into my martial arts classes."
"I already know Karate," Crawley bragged, "I should already be in."
"That's twice you've said that, care to prove it? Get over here Fergus!" The coach was summoning one of the returning students who were now assisting him, "let's see how long it takes you to assess his level. Come on over everyone, watching is allowed."
Henry winced at his sarcastic tone before squeezing off five more pull-ups and dropping down. Fergus, which could have been either the boy's first or last name for all they knew, was a slim thirteen year old with the grace of a cat, and now he circled Brian Crawley like one of those predators. The boy in question was unfazed by his opponent's stance, laughing as he almost casually launched a kick at the older boy, who deflected it and every following attack the other attempted. It quickly became obvious to everyone that Fergus was merely toying with Crawley, even before he calmly knocked him down and pinned the younger boy with one foot.
"I'd say he's basically an orange belt who thinks he's working on getting a black already," Fergus said, ignoring the fallen boy's muttering about the color brown. At this point, half the class was snickering at the beaten boy, and it was all Henry could do to avoid joining in and ensuring the other's permanent hatred of him. Crawley, however, glared right at him, seeming to have quite the opposite reaction. Altogether, he was glad the class was over soon after.
The day was turning out to be thoroughly athletic, as Henry would be spending the afternoon going to several meetings for groups of such active natures. The first was archery, out on one of the long stretches of grass between more obviously dedicated athletic fields. While technically a club, the archery association did send senior members to a few tournaments, and was a sporting activity, "requiring physical fitness," according to the club president. However, Henry was quite delighted that this was the only requirement, as members were actually encouraged to not even think about purchasing their own bows till they had more skill and strength. Nest up was running, which would include both cross-country and track and field activities, even though one was usually spring and the other fall. They were holding tryouts, their only real requirement, and would sort out members to each activity after training determined their actual strengths and weaknesses.
There was a lot of good-natured teasing between the boys and girls lined up for the fist timed race, and Henry was surprised that they weren't all first year students. When the gun went off, Henry ran like Big D and his gang were hot on his heels. He was the only one not surprised when he ended up having the best time for every distance they had to run in the tryouts. "Heck," said the coach, a man named Edward Hull, "you've beat some of the school records, unofficially. I can't wait to see you on hurdles, once you're tall enough, little man."
"So I'm on the team?" Henry was having a hard time accepting the fact that he was wanted. "I don't need some permission form signed?"
"No, the school seems to think you rugrats aren't likely to hurt yourselves running. You'd need permission for the fun stuff like javelins and high jump, but we won't start you on those for a few years yet. Put running on your schedule, Carpenter. I will hunt you down and bring you here if you don't show for practices, you got that, boy?"
"Yes, sir, right away," said a beaming Henry, not even minding being called boy for once. It was exciting to have something he was legitimately skilled at recognized, especially for a sport.
That evening, between dinner and astronomy, Henry went to the dance team's recruitment meeting. He had to hide his surprise at seeing that they had the least people there of all the groups he'd yet visited. After all, they were a school sport or competitive group, weren't they? Everyone was milling around, waiting for it to start, and the girls his year were all kind of giving him dirty looks.
"Boys don't like dancing," Marie announced, "you shouldn't be here. Isn't wrestling meeting now or something?"
"Maybe he's gay, or thinks he's a girl or something," said Marie's friend, a girl whose name Henry could never remember, "or he's lost and doesn't want to admit it to us here."
Henry gripped the stone in his pocket, only letting go when he could see a bit of light shining through his pants between his fingers. He would not respond to their taunts. Fortunately, at that moment, the older dancers arrived in the small ballroom. "Oh thank Circe," said one of them, "an actual boy wants to join. I get so sick of having to dance with other girls in practices." Marie and her friend looked shocked at this breathless announcement. The older students were indeed about one third guys, most of whom gave Henry a thumbs up or wink. "Please say you'll keep coming, kid," said the same girl, grabbing his shoulder, "what's your name?"
"Nance, you're going to freak him out," said one of the guys, "hi, I'm Jason. Don't mind her, she means well. We are glad to have you, though."
"Henry Carpenter. I'd love to keep coming, as long as you teach me how to dance, and I don't have to know already."
"Excellent. That's what we're all about, lad," said Jason, "although we won't start the dancing during this meeting, okay?"
Mostly, the first meeting seemed to be about the kinds of competition the dance team attended, as well as what styles they studied, much like the archery meeting. Henry was quite relieved that he hadn't just signed himself up for ballet, as even he had heard about how the men wore tights in that style of dancing. The potential for embarrassment was just too high already when it came to ballroom dancing to even consider that. Later, as he went to bed, after enduring the astronomy teacher's excitement over the waning moon, "we'll all be able to see the stars much better when it is finally dark around here," Henry could think of nothing but the more magical sports, especially since he would not be trying out for any of them yet. He could only imagine what it would be like to fly with the aid of nothing more than a broomstick. To play a sport while doing so was unbelievable, no matter how dull it sounded when the headmaster had prattled on about quidditch on their tour, which already seemed to have been ages long past.
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At that very moment, far away where it was still the middle of the day, a young man with flaming red hair made his most spectacular play in that very sport. Diving at the fastest speed his broom could handle, the young man plunged past a nearly stationary member of the other team, plucking a small golden speck out of the air near the trailing robes of the other, before pulling up for a leisurely victory lap around the oval field, the fluttering bit of gold in his hand held high in his outstretched hand. It was not long before he was dragged down for the cheering members of the crowd to congratulate, and dragged off towards the castle that loomed in the background.
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Henry's dream had been similar to this scene for a while, save that he was the hero, rather than the older redhead. Then, a sudden turn had come in the happy dream, in the form of an intense and biting chill, accompanied by the sounds of anguished screams. He had plummeted towards the ground, powerless to stay on the broom, only to jolt awake just before hitting the ground, as usual in the case of falling dreams, and Henry was relieved by the presence of the pervasive jungle heat of the institute. All the same, his teeth were actually chattering from the chill of his dream, and it was some time before he was willing to leave the dubious shelter of his sheets. What worried him now was an odd silvery-white mist he seemed to have produced in his sleep, even though it had dispelled as soon as he waved a hand through it.
When he got up, Henry added warming charms to his list of magical things to look up during his free time in the library, telling himself it was only because he'd not be used to winter by the time he left this school, given its tropical location. All such thoughts were erased, however, when he checked his new email account and found a response from a lawyer, finally. Horus, Fitzwalter, and Associates would be happy to take on his case, it seemed, having worked with peculiar magical inheritance cases in the past. They also were ready to put him in contact with a number of internationally licensed official guardians who would be suited to dealing with the intricacies of his being schooled in a different country than he'd grown up in, even if her were also technically from yet another country originally.
Frankly, Henry could barely understand even this much from the mass of legalese he'd received. All the same, it did require a reply, so Henry began to type, in a laborious hunt and pick fashion: "Dear Lawyers. I may be precocious, but I am only just nine, and therefore don't quite understand what you are talking about. Your eagerness to help me is nice, but a meeting in person might be more helpful. Sincerely, Henry Carpenter, boy wizard." Then he went back and added something asking about how to arrange such a meeting while he was at school, before sending it and dashing off to breakfast.
"You were at the library again, weren't you?" It was the creepy girl who'd talked about eviscerating some boy before here, supposedly.
"Yes, why do you ask?" He was trying to be polite, despite her rudeness.
"Why do you go there so much? Books hardly have the answers to everything."
"Obviously not, but they have always been less likely to punch me than my cousin. And they don't ask why I'm looking for any particular piece of information, or anything."
"A boy who is opposed to violence and values secrecy. What a novel thought," she sounded sarcastic, but looked utterly interested, "have you been looking at black magic, to curse that cousin you mentioned?"
Henry felt his stomach clench at the odd hungry look in her sparkling eyes. "Only if dreams are in that category."
After that, he refused to say anything else on the topic, no matter how or what she asked. He left the table, food unfinished, the moment the crystal in his pocket was almost overloaded. He had filled over half of them with magic already, and was beginning to wonder if there was some other way to deal with anger. Didn't his uncle always make fun of Budhists for their nonviolence and meditation? He would have to add that and anger management to his list, since anything his uncle derided was probably valuable. What worried him was that he was even getting this mad so often. One would think that losing the dark magic on his head, the tainted soul, would make him feel lighter, as well as getting away from the Dixons. Instead, he seemed to have ignited his temper, as though it was always at a low burn, requiring little to set him off.
He was still thinking about it later in Arithmancy, and when it was over, he stayed behind, wanting to consult with Miss Enger about how to empty his supply of crystals. "What do you mean, you'll fill all of your crystals soon?" The young teacher seemed surprised.
"Can I just come in sometime later to talk if this will take a while? I mean of my question requires more clarification," Henry said, trying to be polite, but unable to keep himself from glancing worriedly at the clock.
"I mean if you've only nearly filled one of them, you just move on to the next," she said, "you did ask me—I'm not exactly making you stay late or anything."
"Oh, I've been doing that. I have a dozen of them, and I've got the ninth one in my pocket now. Plus I'm always scared I will overload them," he said, sounding desperate.
"Fine, I'll give you an official appointment during my free period at four, if you want," she said in a calming voice, "it sounds like your questions will take up more time than we have right now, no matter what I have to say."
"Okay, thanks, you're the best," he blurted out in a rush before darting out the door.
Laurel sat down heavily. It seemed as though there was no end to the surprises from the Carpenter boy. While waiting for her next class to filter in, she decided to prepare a bit for what could be a very strange meeting in just a few hours by finding those power consuming rituals she'd been thinking about when she first gave the boy advice on his strange problem. Then her next class came thundering in, and she had to put him out of her mind again until it was time to meet him in her office. When she got there, Henry was already there, pacing in front of her door, his book bag sitting on the foot of the stairs she had just come down.
