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 Six: Legalities

"I was afraid you'd forgotten, or only said that to make me go away," he said with unusual honesty, and then with relief, "but you came!"

"Yes, and with all of my curiosity, too. How long does it usually take to fill one of your crystals," she asked as they went through the door, "and may I see what kind you ended up getting?"

"Here you go," he said, handing her the golf ball sized quartz in his pocket, "I had to get the cheapest kind. They fill up so fast, I usually have to get away from whatever is making me mad after they start glowing through my pocket. I guess they can handle maybe a ten minute surge at most."

"And none of the ones you filled before have lost their charges yet?" She looked at the stone he'd given her. A cheap piece like this could often be hard to charge properly, and usually leaked power like a sieve.

"No, they all still glow brightly, and even the first one is only a little bit more dim. My temper just seems to be out of control lately."

"Do you feel dizzy or anything after you load one up, ever? I don't think you should be forcing the energy into the stone when you are mad—just sort of let the excess drain into it, ok?"

"I don't mean to force it, but my power just wants to blast whoever I'm mad at, so I have to fight to get it to go into the crystals," he said, alarmed, "is that really bad for me or something?"

"It would only be a problem if you were forcing the magic out of you, not just forcing it into the crystal. These cheap ones don't just automatically drain power, so the push you're dealing with is normal. You've yet to try using the power in them yet, right?"

"Well, yeah, I know they're for backup or something, but I don't know a lot of spells yet, or how to use these for that, and I'm scared I'd blow a hole in the wall doing it wrong."

"Probably a good call, knowing you. Now I've been looking for a few simple rituals that use these power stones, but we'd have to book a time in one of the ritual rooms. For now, I think I should try to show you how to draw on the power in your crystals just a bit."

"But I only brought this empty one, should I go get some others?"

"No, it's better to start small. Concentrate on letting just a little bit of power flow into this crystal, and then we can try pulling it right back out by doing some simple spells, ok?"

Henry sighed and cupped the stone in his palm and pushed some of the static he'd built up in his earlier frustrated pacing into it. "Ok, stop, that's more than enough," his young teacher burst out suddenly. The crystal now had a faint white spark inside it. "Give it here, and I'll demonstrate, now that we have plenty of magic to work with. Basically, you are using this as your focus, instead of your ring or wand, except that you just push with the stone's energy, and keep yours inside you. This would obviously require no effort if you had magically exhausted yourself, which is when people generally use these." With that, she cast a levitation charm on a chair and spun it around. The glow in the crystal was barely dimmed. "Just do something you are comfortable with that is simple, and unlikely to wreck my office if you overpower it by using your own magic as well."

Henry took it from her and concentrated on the gale charm, which was not simple, but he'd been dying to try since he'd written about it for history. He told himself very firmly that no magic could get through his skin, already knowing that intent was crucial for this kind of thing, and blew very softly on the glow in the stone, mentally telling it to blow out, too. Suddenly, there was an odd whistling sound, and the light seemed to flow out and up into a miniature twister on top of the stone, which whipped his hair back and forth with the force of its wind. Then the crystal was dark again, and the wind disappeared as fast as it came. "Sorry it wasn't simple," Henry whispered, cringing slightly.

"Yeah, I wouldn't suggest doing that with a fully charged stone, but no harm done now," she said, "now, are you certain that none of your internal magic went into that display?"

"Only a spark of my will when I blew, to get it started," he said with some certainty, "is there thing I can read about those rituals, or can you tell me what would be safe with a fully charged stone?"

"Honestly, I'd have to see how much power you usually put in before you stop, but you can borrow this book. I think you ought to talk to professor Blakeney, who is our head ritualist, about how and what rituals you may be interested in. He might even help you do some."

"Oh, right, and he was the one who took off my blocks. I guess I should have talked to him from the start. Thanks professor. I'll get your book back to you next class, and show you a charged crystal then, ok?"

After that, she let him go to whatever he had next, and leaned back in her chair, a foot propped on a desk drawer. If she didn't know any better, she'd think this kid had been doing magic for years. There was no way he'd cast the gale charm silently, even if his comment had indicated it wasn't accidental magic. It had to have been a result of him breathing while focusing on releasing the stone's power. She'd learned that charm when she was fourteen, and could still remember the effort it took to hold the wind in tornado form, no matter the size, in terms of willpower. Added to the fact Henry had to have been bleeding power to put so much of a charge into the crystal without even appearing to have tried to do so, and he was likely to be legendary. If he didn't watch it, he'd be known mostly for his temper, she thought, for all that he was a pretty controlled and calm boy usually. Either way, his power levels were going to start breaking records soon, and not just here.

Henry whistled as best he could as he skipped down the hallway, happy to have found a possible solution that he could pursue, especially considering that he had met the man. Of course, they had been focused on removing the dark thingy from him, but he hoped the professor would be interested in talking to him about rituals, especially since he'd indicated that they would have to work together more to deal with the object and whatever else was associated with it. Not having a class, he went back to his room to spend some quality time reading Miss Enger's book, before he remembered that he had a meeting to go to now. This time, it was a beginners choir and chanting group that met weekly, and was actually a prerequisite for ritual magic, given how many of them required chanting—properly done.

It actually didn't get over till right before dinner, and most of the boys were pretty mad. "I cant' believe we'll all have to take this again after our voices break," said Daniel, "I already know how to sing, anyway, and do they really think we won't remember how to do it, just because our voices change? It's still the same techniques we'll be using!"

"I don't understand why it won't count if we get into a higher level choir or performance group later," chimed in another, "they're just penalizing our whole gender. They should just be glad we want to sing, instead of making it so we can't get into ritual magic till a year or so after the girls!"

"The shoe feels bad when it's on the other foot, doesn't it," said one of the girls.

"Honestly, I still can't see how they make such a big deal over singing," one of the upperclassman guys added, "I swear, it's the slowest form of magic. Not much good in the dueling circuits, I can tell you that. One good tongue-tying curse and you can't do it anyways! If I were one of you little guys, I'd suggest doing like me, and just wait till your voices settle down before taking this the first time."

"Are rituals worth the effort for anything at all? Also, can singing be used for magic other than rituals?" That was Henry, curious as ever, and mind stuck on rituals lately.

"Bout the only permanent magic," one of the other older boys said, "change your body, up your power levels, hide things permanently, summon angels and demons, actually most of the scary magic illegal in a lot of other countries are various ritual-based magical processes."

"So why do they teach rituals here? I mean if they are illegal in so many places," Henry asked.

"Rich people from those places will always pay a lot to have that kind of thing done for them. Somebody has to be able to do it properly. My scholarship is paid for by foreigners coming to the school for assistance with rituals," the same older student explained.

It was probably the most interesting and informative casual conversation Henry had ever had. The next morning, when he was perusing the borrowed book, it did not surprise him that almost all of the sections began with a note on which countries had banned each ritual. This pacific rim area that he lived in was just about the only place with a stable government that only banned rituals requiring human sacrifice, none of which appeared in this book, obviously. Henry decided to just wait to ask the ritual professor about which ones he could do after his appointment on Saturday, or during if he saw him there again. Sunday afternoon he was going to meet up with one of the lawyers, since visitors were only allowed on weekends. Apparently, some parents could afford regular visits to their kids, though most didn't use this option, as it was discouraged to prevent homesickness.

That Friday afternoon, almost everyone in the school came out to watch the quidditch tryouts, and Henry was dragged along by Blake, who was insistent on everyone being introduced to the sport. Nothing could have excited him more than indoctrinating those who had never heard of his favorite sport before coming to the school, and therefore rounded up most of the reluctant new students. They all dutifully trooped down to Merlin Field. Apparently, these were the tryouts for the school team, open only to players from the intramural teams that had an in-school tourney. Next week, probably everybody who didn't make it would be back playing on those teams, and helping them recruit new players. All around, in the impressive stands, Henry could hear snippets of sports talk from older kids.

"Now, Horton from the Blue Macaws is probably a shoe-in for chaser, to replace the graduated Stormbringer," said a tall spotty boy.

"Yes, but the Black Mambas chaser trio has the best coordination, so they might be brought in as a group," replied the girl sitting next to him.

"Well, I suppose, but probably only as a second-string or substitute option, as they're quite a bit younger," the boy argued back.

Further down, he could hear a few boys arguing about seekers from the Roaring Devils and Lightning Lewis Brigade. Henry was honestly far more interested in the weird team names than players or positions, having no clue how the game was played. He had a feeling quodpot was a bit like futbal, but worried that the wizarding world's favorite sport might be a bit more complicated like his uncle's beloved cricket. For all he knew, wizards had invented something even more mad, with multiple balls or something. He added magical sports and games to his research list, knowing how popular sports were with his peers, especially the boys. Then, the proceedings began with a half-game, only pitting prospective keepers against teams of chasers. Henry was blown away by the sheer display of aerial acrobatics and sleight of hand as the trios faced off over one red ball in mid-air.

After a while, he noticed that they were switching out players after each goal, cycling through all of the hopefuls a few times. Later, the beater tryouts, mostly featuring boys, was an astonishing display of raw power, involving targets and obstacles. By the end, the seeker trials were quite dull, mostly having a horde of kids, all mostly small for their ages, going after golf balls shot out of random locations. Everyone else seemed to think this was the best position, probably because of the disproportionate number of points these players could score. He could hear kids cheering on their friends, shouting out things about really good moves, all of which had pretty goofy names. Quietly, Henry slipped off to dinner, which had started at about the same time as the seeker trials.

About the only people at dinner already were girls, so Henry sat alone on one of the stone walls around the trees, and wondered when they'd get a chance to learn basic flying. It looked like flying a broom would be a lot of fun, sports or not. After all, for him, the only good dreams he had were about flying, and occurred almost weekly, even now. Suddenly, he remembered that his most recent one had actually featured what quidditch might have looked like when all of the balls and positions were in play at once. The niggling thought that his dreams might have some truth to them somehow led Henry back to the library once again, this time to the sports section, where he deduced from moving pictures that indeed, his suspicion about the dream was correct, at least in terms of what game was being played. It was rather a bit alarming then, when he had another flying dream that night.

This time, he was on a broom engraved with his name on the handle, instead of a company or model name, and he was being chased through a forest by flying black horses, dodging branches and trunks frantically, knowing somehow that the skeletal creatures were eaters of flesh. Still, upon waking, his usual exuberance after such a dream remained, and Henry went about his morning routine grinning like a loon. Flying at night had long been his one comfort in life, along with the ability to outrun his cousin, though it was likely to soon be as unnecessary, should he start to fly in real life. He walked down to the medical wing in a daze of happiness, unworried about the impending appointment. This time, they were quite pleased with his progress, and he was hopeful that the potion regimen would end soon. Also, even though his vision wasn't yet perfect, it was declared good enough that he wasn't going to get fit for glasses any time soon, though he might still have a tendency towards nearsightedness and need them later on in life.

So Henry left in the same rejoicing mood. They had also wanted to schedule his skill/talent test for two weeks from now, unless something changed. In fact, he was able to make it to lunch, a first on a Saturday since coming to the institute. After eating, he headed off to the teacher's office hallway, near the entrance, in hopes of finding the ritual guy. In his pockets were two of his crystals, one charged with magic, the other completely empty. When he got there, the professor was talking to another student, so he sat down on the floor across the hall to wait. They were having some kind of argument about power levels and prerequisites for a class the kid wanted to take, if the occasional shouts he heard through the partially open door were any indication of what was going on inside. Then the boy came stomping out, followed by Blackmore, or whatever his name was, the head ritualist.

"Hello there, Mr. Carpenter. I wasn't expecting to see you so soon," he said, "considering the talk we had at our last meeting. Do come in, and tell me what has brought you here."

Henry followed him in and sat in a large leather chair facing the professor's desk, and pulled out the stones in his pocket. "I have a dozen of these, purchased on a teacher's recommendation, and I already charged ten of them with temper magic or whatever, since they arrived the second week of classes. Now she suggests I do something like the efficiency ritual, or something else from this book she lent me," he finished, pulling it out from his book bag.

"I presume you are referring to our own Laurel—I gave her that book as a present some years ago," the older man said, smiling at Henry's nod, "good girl, but right to refer you to me, given her specialties. I'll expect to see her micro potions on the market soon, even if she is doing well teaching arithmancy."

"Erm, right, but what can I do? Is there something you can help me with? Is something wrong with me," Henry cried, anxiously, "from the soul thing's influence on me or the binding?"

"What exactly are you talking about, young man?"

"I mean that everyone is freaked by my amounts of magic, since then, and my temper's all off kilter, and well, that's all I guess."

"Hmm, I wouldn't be so worried about it, if I were you. The nutrient potions alone are giving you a bit of a growth spurt, and that is bound to affect emotions, you know. You're in a new place, and undoubtedly that makes you a bit more jumpy than usual, so your magic is reacting, perhaps a bit more than necessary since it is used to being blocked. I have no doubts you'll settle down in no time."

"Probably just in time for me to really need excess magic, knowing my luck," said Henry, though he was very relieved.

"Now, did you bring all of the crystals, or only these two?" Henry pulled out the crate, and Blackmore nodded, "very good. How soon can you have the other two charged? It would be best to do any rituals on a weekend."

"I know I could fill one of them now, maybe both, if you want," he said, "as I think it's likely I'll need more than two before next weekend. Do you want me to try right now?"

"Yes, actually, it would be a good gauge of your current power levels, if nothing else," said Blackmore.

Henry nodded, and took the two empty stones, one in each hand. Focusing on his magic as some kind of well of power within, he willed it to flow up and out into the crystals, which he thought of as buckets. As soon as he could see light through his eyelids, he stopped, and opened them. Swaying slightly with a bit of dizziness, this time, Henry sat them down in the open case. "Well, now I'm really feeling a magical drain. Can I have some time to recover?"

"By all means, lad, sit back for as long as you need. I have to make sure they all have equal charges, anyways. I'll just go ahead and top them off for you as necessary," he replied in a soothing voice, possibly the first person to not act as though Henry had some kind of abnormal ability after seeing him perform. "Good. You have an instinctive knack for the natural resonances. They are all maintaining at almost the same level. Low leakage for such cheap pieces. As soon as you are recovered enough, we'll see if there is a ritual room free."

After that, they sat in silence for several long minutes, the boy in a light doze, the man looking at him with a cool speculative gaze. Taking out a small notebook, he wrote down a few things in some odd symbols, before turning his attention back to the slightly glowing contents of the small crate in front of him. The ticking of a small clock in the corner was the loudest sound in the room, until Henry slowly sat upright again. "Thanks, I feel a whole lot better now. I mean, not a hundred percent, but much more functional. I could even be good for a bit of magic now, I think." Then he gathered up his things and followed Blackmore along the hall and down a flight of stairs. They ended up in a low, windowless corridor, which smelled slightly of wet dirt and basement air, where the professor checked a schedule sheet taped to the wall before leading Henry towards one of the chambers.

"You mentioned an interest in the efficiency ritual. Why, pray tell, is that?" The professor said when they arrived.

"Well, I don't exactly sleep a whole lot anyways, due to peculiar dreams. I know it isn't good for me, but I was hoping that if the ritual made it so I didn't need as much, I could keep my health."

"Not nightmares all the time, I hope?" Blackmore looked rather relieved when Henry disagreed.

"Only some of them are less pleasant than others, I guess. Not too bad a price for loads of flying dreams, right? Mostly they are just weird, like I know things in my dreams that I didn't in real life."

"If you are sure, Mr. Carpenter. Now, consider me an observer, helpful, but mostly here to watch. I have no problem with the ritual you've picked, so go ahead and set up for the ritual according to the book. Supplies other than your crystals should be in cupboards on the near wall. I will be happy to correct your mistakes and give a few pointers, ok?"

Nodding, Henry took pegs and string and set up a six-pointed star, made out of overlapping triangles inside the circle permanently marked on the floor, then chalked along the lines before removing the strings. Upon seeing Blackmore's nod, he placed the crystals on each of the points and intersections, flat sides down. The six quartz were on the inside and cubic zirconium on the points, till the rutualist told him to switch them. Using a compass to guide him, Henry sat down in the center, facing east, with the book open in his lap.

"Can I read the chant, or do I have to memorize it? What if I don't know how to sing yet, does it matter?"

"You can keep the book there. Usually, your results are only going to be as good as your drawing and chanting, but in this case, it is mostly based on the stored power you bring, which leaves a little more room for error at this level. For now, just concentrate on putting a thread of magic into your voice and words as you read at a steady pace. Pause at the end of lines and try for a monotone."

Nodding, Henry began to read the italicized and metrical lines indicated there:

"I rise with the dawn, and look to the sun

I rise with the moon, and look to the night

I lack the strength to do both at once

I long to face the nigh that follows the day

I call my power to flow cleanly into my body

I wish to banish the sleepiness from my eyes

I call the power of the dawn into my bones

I swallow the moon with my magic. NOW!"

Henry ended with a raised voice as the book demanded, and had to hold back from gasping, as the light flowed out of the stones and into the lines, and then seemed to flow inward, before bursting into him. It felt like fire in his nerves, burning through him till his brain seemed to throb, and he passed out. After a while, he began to slowly open his eyes, and complained, "why do rituals always seem to end with me flat on my back?" He noticed then that all of the chalk lines he'd laid down had vanished in the completion of the ritual. The older man only laughed at him, as he pulled himself up and crawled around, gathering his depleted crystals from the floor around him, wincing as his nerves still felt raw.

"As long as you do rituals meant to affect you, that's how they are likely to end, as the magic works on your body. Send me a note when you figure out how much sleep you need now; I'd like a number. As it wouldn't be wise to do this ritual again, I'll be expecting a visit next time you've filled your stones, lad, unless Laurel wants to borrow them for your class or something. They have that book in the library, so you should go return it to her now."

Henry made his farewells, and left the book in a box on her doorway on his way to dinner, which was already half over. For a moment, he wondered how long he'd been knocked out, but supposed he'd never know, as Blackmore hadn't mentioned it. At least nobody seemed to wonder where he'd been, given that his Saturday healer visits, and their length, had already kind of become routine parts of his life. Feeling rather odd, Henry just let the conversation flow around him, especially since all of his yearmates were discussing a movie they'd spent the afternoon watching in the lounge at the end of the hall in their dorm. Mostly, they were arguing over whether the special effects team had used magic in addition to ordinary tricks, though they'd probably never know the answer.

"I swear, there is no way they could have done those flying effects without a broom," Crawley shouted, spraying food in his enthusiasm, "I'd love to be that stunt guy, it would be easy!"

"Editing out a harness wouldn't be much harder than editing out a broom," said Marie, "and his position was all wrong for flying a broom, you idiot. Now, the fake injuries could have been real and then healed with magic quite easily. They were quite realistic, actually."

"And how would you know, creeper?" Nobody wanted to answer Crawley's question, as it was probably more than a bit rhetorical.

"Look, why are we even arguing about this," Blake muttered, "companies usually don't even let the magical world know if they use magic for effects."

"Except for Industrial Light and Magic, obviously. I don't know how they got that name past the secrecy act."

"You're kidding right? Surely they'd be the least likely to actually use magic, what with secrecy and all?" Henry just had to join in, he was so astonished by this revelation.

"Oh, George Lucas is a regular silvertongue. Got it past on the ol' hiding in plain sight defense. Lots of money had to change hands, also. He is one rich wizard, you know."

At that moment, conversation was cut off by the arrival of mail, which was surprising to Henry, as he got a note reminding him of the meeting with the lawyer, from the school no less, indicating which room had been reserved for the meeting. As it wasn't till Sunday afternoon, Henry decided to go to the mission again in the morning, if only to keep him occupied till then. To his surprise, this time the service was almost the same as last week's, except with some different readings and songs. Perhaps it wouldn't take very long for him to start being able to keep up with what was going on at these gatherings. All too soon, however, it finished, and he was back at school, sitting in a small room, wondering how the meeting would go, and if he should have taken the time to brush his teeth after lunch.

He was just trying to remember Blake's tooth-cleaning charm when a very tan woman in a skirt suit came in. Henry stood up with a jerk, and muttered something that he hoped sounded like "Hello."

"Mr. Carpenter, I am Opal Llewelyn, as promised, legal secretary from Horus, Fitzwalter, and Associates, here to discuss your situation. Shall we sit?" They did, and she opened her briefcase, pulled out a legal pad and a quill pen, which hovered over the page. "This will merely transcribe whatever we say from here on," she said, turning it so he could read her words at the top of the page. "Now, I believe our main problem here is a matter of your guardianship, is it not?"

"I promised my guardians that they would not need to deal with me ever again, so long as they allowed my attendance at this school. However, I seem to need guardian permission for a number of things here."

"You also made reference to some kind of abuse or neglect at their hands in the past," she added in a questioning tone, "care to elaborate?"

"Honestly, that's mostly coming from the healers who have evidence. All I can say is that my bedroom was a cupboard under the stairs, so that I would be handy, like other cleaning tools. Basically they didn't treat me the way they did their own son. I've been cooking for them since I could reach across the stove while standing on a chair, so at least before I first went to school."

To her credit, the legal secretary restrained her reaction to expression only. "I will be sure to find out when would be a good time to collect information from the healers. Rest assured that we will be sending investigators to your relative's house back in Australia."

"Who will be in charge of me if not them?"

"That will be a matter for which we may have to consult with any will your parents may have created," she replied, "though the courts will likely appoint somebody as a temporary legal guardian until a permanent answer may be obtained."

"What if there is no will? I really don't know anything about my parents, I mean I never even heard their names."

"Fortunately, in this case, as long as you live at school, foster parents won't be needed, so you would probably be retained by the state guardian as a ward. We'll actually need to talk to the school about taking you off campus to go to the bank and perform an inheritance ritual, to find any pertinent wills, as you don't know the identity of your parents."

"What if I was kidnapped, I mean, and they are still alive?"

"Much will depend on what, if any, living relatives you have, as revealed by the inheritance ritual," she said, with irritating vagueness.

"When will we go and do that, if it is so important?"

"After collecting evidence from the healers and the house you lived in before coming to the school."

"Why are you being so helpful, I mean, to already have all this in mind? It's not like I'm paying you yet. None of the other lawyers have even responded to my email with a negative."

"For one thing, we are a big firm, operating across both international and the magic/mundane divides. Some of the other places listed on the address line of your query simply can't handle your case. If you'd approached law enforcement, they probably would have recommended us to you. We tend to make our money from court settlements, as well."

"I hadn't even thought of money," Henry gasped, "what if I can't pay you that way, or something, I mean, hey scholarships here? You'll never let that go, I could be screwed, like a moggage or whatever my uncle has."

She did her best to calm him down, and explain government support and how lawyers could be paid by winning cases. "But I still have to sign some paperwork, so that I'm your client, right?" Henry burst out, "otherwise you won't be able to help me. I hope I won't regret this. And I still need permission to take those talent-testing potions for the school! Nothing will ever get done!"

"Actually, as a minor, technically you can't sign any such legal documents, any more than you can fill out your own permission forms. Technically, we are a legal consultant the school allowed you to contact for guidance as they work out how to file an international investigation on signs of abuse they discovered on your person," she explained. "This institute has a history of believing pretty strongly in student independence, hence allowing us to meet alone, and keeping you up to date with the proceedings on your case, so unofficially, you are a client." She smiled brightly at him, " so, feel welcome to call us your lawyers."