OMG! I'm on a roll. With all the ideas floating in my head, I'm so going to write before they go away. My brother is also on a roll as well since he liked what I'm writing. Oh brother, I so love you! (cue beautiful eyes)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters that is found in David Edding's Books.

Harry Potter: Shadow Sorcerer

Chapter 09: The Rise of a Sorcerer

Harry James Potter was one happy child. Not because of the existence of magic, not because he was rich, not because he is of Wizarding royalty.

Harry James Potter was happy because he was getting to know his godfather, the only non-blood relationship he had that was close to being called a family.

Being a godfather, Sirius, was like a surrogate father for Harry since his real dad wasn't around to watch out for him. The week they spent exchanging stories via the two-way journal was an eye opening experience. He didn't know it was possible to convey so many emotions through paper and ink. But it was possible and he couldn't be happier with the outcome.

Harry was glad to take the initiative and not waiting for the Headmaster to make the first move.

Considering Harry's hobby in learning, he questioned Sirius on anything that was even related to magic. Sirius was more than happy to help. So in between discussions on how to enchant objects or how to transfigure objects; Harry and Sirius were exchanging life stories to fill the gaps of their 10-year separation.

All-in-all, Harry was one happy camper.

August 10, 1991

Knockturn Alley

Harry was walking down the tight space of Knockturn Alley towards a dingy shop at the far end of the street. He was looking for a wand maker with enough expertise to recreate Sirius' wand.

In truth, it was impossible to do so since the ingredients were unique. A wood from a specific tree is different from a wood of another even if they are of the same species. Same goes for the magical component that makes up its core – unless of course he went to Ollivander and specifically asked for those ingredients; and considering the wand maker's memory in regards to his creations, Harry was sure that the creepy geezer would easily discover that he was recreating Sirius Black's wand.

This was one of the reasons why he was now in Knockturn Alley.

Instead of checking out every single store in the area, he went directly to the expert for directions. Of course, this expert came in the form of Borgin - the owner and proprietor of the Dark Arts Shop Borgins and Burkes. However, his words regarding the fabled wand maker in Knockturn Alley gave him a little pause.

Harry finished relaying his needs to the Borgin who in turn told him something that made him wary.

"There is one person you seek here in Knockturn Alley. However, he is not a wand maker but a wand crafter. Be warned, however, if you seek Old Man Grath. He doesn't make a wand for anybody. Like the wand chooses the wizards, Old Man Grath will choose who will become his customer. However, what makes the experience…memorable…is the wand crafter's ability to peer into your soul; whether you get a wand from him or not, he will know you from the inside out."

Even with this warning, Harry was determined to meet with Old Man Grath. Even if the secrets of his soul were laid down on the table for the man to learn then so be it.

Harry left Borgin's shop towards the famed wand crafter of Knockturn Alley.

It didn't take Harry long to reach his destination. The place was small, smaller than even that of Ollivander's shop. The shop didn't have any name except for a signage with a picture of a wand. Very simple advertisement if you knew what to look for.

Taking a deep breath, Harry pushed the door open which caused the overhanging bell to chime telling anyone inside that there was a customer in the shop. Well, a possible customer anyway if Borgin was to be believed.

When Harry walked into the shop, he noticed a man on the counter. Considering the area he was living in, the man was…clean. He was clean-shaven unlike the wizards of old who seem to want to flaunt their beard as a sign of their station and experience. No, this one lacked any facial hair. His white, almost silver hair was smooth, flowing down to his back. His face was lined with wrinkles, but not too much. He wondered if this was Old Man Grath since the man in front of him wasn't too old to be addressed as an 'old man' by the alley's inhabitants.

"Good afternoon, sir. I am looking for Old Man Grath?" said Harry respectfully.

The man looked up from his reading and gave Harry a piercing look with his stormy gray eyes.

"Why are you seeking Old Man Grath?" was all the man said, eyes not wavering from Harry's who was getting nervous for being stared at with such intensity.

"I was pushed to this place when I inquired on the possibility of recreating a wand that was broken ten years ago. I could have gone to Ollivander but with the current situation, it is doubtful that he will ever provide me with what I asked for." said Harry, though it was only half of the truth.

"Indeed. Old Man Grath can easily make the wand you seek. However, it is the reason for such wand that the Old Man Grath will inquire." If it was possible, Harry would have thought that the stormy gray eyes became even stormier. "Tell me lad, what is the reason for the wand that you seek?"

Harry took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. His instincts and magic was screaming at him to tell the truth. Lying to this man will only result in dire consequences.

"I seek the wand for my godfather who was blamed for a crime he didn't commit. I am in contact with him and have the means to get it to him. With our communication, my godfather will use the wand to improve himself, thus if he is ever reunited with me, he will use the wand and his power for our protection and to those we deem worthy." said Harry. The formal words flowing out of his tongue like honey – all unbidden and uncontrolled as if someone was forcing him to say the truth.

Silenced reigned in the shop after his declaration. The man behind the counter was looking at him with his stormy gray eyes, piercing his very soul. However, it was hard for Harry to determine what the man was thinking. The face in front of him held no emotion, as if it was carved from marble.

"Interesting story you say, lad. But tell me…Harry Potter," at this, Harry froze "who will my wand claim as its master and lord?"

Without hesitation, Harry answered.

"Sirius Black" he whispered though the sound of his voice echoed around the shop.

The man nodded and stood. He walked over to the door and locked it before beckoning Harry to follow him.

Harry was lead to a back room, like Ollivander's, though this one was much bigger. Instead of shelves, there were cabinets. Instead of a work table, there were two couches and a small circular table in between. The place doesn't look much but the feel of magic in the air was quite palpable to be almost solid.

The man sat and beckoned for Harry to take the other one. When Harry took his place, the man spoke.

"My name is Old Man Grath and I am a wand crafter by trade. Now tell me Harry Potter, why are you under a false persona?" asked the now-named Old Man Grath. There was a hypnotic quality to his voice that lowered Harry's control.

"To hide." Harry simply answered.

"Why?" Old Man Grath fired back.

" Because I don't want the public to know who I am" was all Harry's reply.

"Why?" the same question.

"Because…I don't…I don't want to get mobbed by the witches and wizards in the alleys."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to be in the spotlight." Harry answered through gritted teeth. He didn't like where this was going.

"Why?"

"Because…I…I….I don't know." Harry whispered. It was the truth. He really didn't know.

Old Man Grath nodded. With a wave of his hand, a tea set appeared in front of him. He poured a cup and offered it to Harry who gratefully took it. He didn't do the same for himself. Harry was so out of it that he didn't notice the use of wandless magic nor the ringing sound he heard in his head.

"Harry Potter." called out Old Man Grath. "You might be asking yourself right now why you are being asked these questions when you're primary concern is to have a wand created for your godfather. Why is this old man asking me these pointless questions? Why am I being interrogated as if I am a prisoner of war?"

Harry didn't say anything but started at the cup of tea on his lap.

"You see, Harry Potter. I am more than a wand crafter by trade. My eyes sees all…the past…the present…the future. I determine who is and who is not worthy to own a wand that I craft. You see, Harry Potter, I see you. I see your soul crying out for release. Even if your mind has accepted your title, your heart says otherwise. This is why you are currently not at your full strength, limiting yourself to what you could actually do with your powers."

Harry eyes snapped away from the cup to meet stormy gray eyes.

"I know who you are, Harry Potter. I see your past, troubled as they may be. I see your present, happy yet lonely with your life. And most importantly, I see your future - your struggles, wants, needs, and your desires. However, you are currently on limbo. What your mind accepts as truth, your heart denies. What your heart accepts as truth, your mind denies. A Sorcerer can never reach his full potential if they are not of the same mind and heart."

Harry's was flabbergasted at the monologue he was hearing. Old Man Grath was looking into his soul. Borgin was right. Old Man Grath could see the truth of one's soul no matter how hard they try to deny it. Harry wanted to leave, to find another way to procure his godfather's wand, but Old Man Grath's next words stopped him.

"I see that you have accepted the truth of my words, Harry Potter. But let me tell you the truth of who you are. The truth of being a Sorcerer."

Harry couldn't do anything but nod. Doubt leaving him as the man laid out his life for both of them to hear.

"You see, Harry Potter. A Sorcerer is beyond the realm of magic. True, they are still magic but a Sorcerer's magic is based on reality. In the past, Sorcerers were revered more than Mages, or magicians as they were called back then, and considered as disciples of gods. Yes, Harry Potter, gods. Not God, but gods. In the ages past, while magic was at its infancy, Sorcerers walked the land. Their powers are a combination of the heart and the mind. The Will and the Word. One cannot rise while the other is swayed. That is what you are right now, Harry Potter. You are in limbo. You cannot rise because your Will does not coincide with your Word and your Word does not agree with your Will."

"This is also one of the reasons why no Sorcerer has ever risen above that of a Mage considering that Mages are limited in their use of the power. True, there are witches and wizards who are capable of reaching the level of Sorcerers, like Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore or the self-styled Dark Lord who called himself Lord Voldemort despite not being his true name. Another reason why both didn't achieve their pinnacle of power."

Harry pondered the words and something clicked.

The Will and the Word.

Disciples of gods.

Old Man Grath.

Grath.

"You're…you're…" Harry tried to bring out the name but could not because of his shock.

"Do you know who I am, Harry Potter? If you do, say my name. Let your Mind accept what your Heart tells you. Let your Will become your Word. Tell me my name, Harry Potter. Gather your Will and Speak the Word. Let it happen."

Something snapped inside Harry in that moment. For the first time in his life, his heart connected with his mind. Inside his magical core, the shadowy smoke that existed inside seemed to pulse and swell. Shadowy black turned to gray and gray turned to white. An explosion occurred inside his body as power flooded through his veins. Molten fire, so strong and powerful, flowed through his body. His mind expanded, his consciousness flared to imaginable heights.

As fast as it appeared, it died down leaving a breathless Harry who was gasping for air, the cup containing his tea lay shattered on the floor. Old Man Grath smiled.

"Speak my name, Harry Potter." urged Old Man Grath, but this time, there was a roaring in Harry's mind as if the question itself holds a power that he must grasp.

Harry gulped a lungful of air, slowly calming himself with closed eyes. Seconds dragged on until it became minutes. The clock on the mantle ticked as the seconds dragged on. Harry's eyes opened. Stormy green eyes met stormy gray.

"You're Belgarath. Belgarath the Sorcerer." Harry stated the truth in a voice filled with hidden strength.

The old sorcerer smiled. The child in front of him had unlocked the power within himself, aching to be used, to show the world its power. The power of a sorcerer.

"The truth has finally been revealed, not only as to my identity, but also to yours." Belgarath smiled, satisfied with what just happened inside his shop.

"But how…why…it was a fantasy book…a book that everyone read…an author that the readers love." whispered Harry.

He knew it was the truth but he could stop himself from asking for clarifications.

"Ahhh." Belgarath said in amusement. "The book that you read is more than fantasy, Harry Potter. You see, the book was written by the command of my god, the book was written to make sure that a sorcerer is found. You, Harry Potter, discovered the secrets of the Will and the Word. Marking you as the real sorcerer of this time.

"But I'm a wizard." said Harry but chose to explain when he saw one of Belgarath's eyebrow quirk up in amusement. "Well, yes, I am a Shadow Sorcerer, but I am a wizard, born from a witch and a wizard."

Belgarath nodded, happy that Harry asked the right questions.

"That is true Harry Potter, YOU are a wizard and you will always be a wizard. However, you tapped into a power that is present in everyone. Unlike what you learned in Gringotts, there is a sorcerer and there is THE sorcerer. The latter of which describes the both of us."

"But...is there a difference? I mean, they are both the same thing, right?"

Belgarath shook his head.

"No, young one. A Wizarding Sorcerer is limited to their magic alone. They use spells and incantations to manipulate reality. Their powers of the mind are more than that of an average witch and wizard but it has its limitations, like the use of a wand to activate the skill. However, you are a REAL sorcerer. A man with the power to bend reality according to your will. Not dependent on any spell or incantation or complex rituals. It is the power of your belief that brings it out. This is the reason I was tasked to write the books. Everyone had the power inside of them but it will only take a REAL sorcerer to unlock it."

"I know that you have read through all the books and I know that you have taken the lessons there to heart. After all, you practice similar Sorcery as those of my daughter and wife. You see, Harry Potter, the book didn't end like the way you thought it did. I didn't bother to chronicle my life after what happened in Malloreon. Even the history of how the world before became the world now is irrelevant. The only thing that is important, Harry Potter, is that you have done something that has never been done before. You have combined the powers of a Magician, a Mage who wields powers similar to that of witches and wizards, and that of a Sorcerer, with full command of the secrets of the Will and the Word. Shadow Sorcerer is an apt name indeed."

"What happens now?" Harry asked in a daze. He knew deep inside that Belgarath spoke the truth. He knew instinctively that he was a Sorcerer - a Shadow Sorcerer. A blend of Wizarding Magic and Sorcery. A walker of both paths.

Belgarath clapped his hands.

"Now we accommodate your request. We will create your godfather's wand."

"We?" Harry raised an eyebrow at this.

"Yes, We…or in this case…you." Belgarath said in an amused voice.

This declaration caught Harry by surprise.

"What! Why me? I mean you're the wand crafter not me so you're supposed to be the one to make the wand." Harry blurted out in a rush.

"Well, that is true but I want YOU to create the wand, Harry Potter. Besides, you can consider this as our final lesson if you like."

"What do you mean our final lesson? You aren't even my teacher." Harry growled.

"Oh really?" Belgarath said with a chuckle. "You read my books, Harry. You applied the skills I depicted in the book. As I taught my daughter and some of my brothers the basics, you followed the book I wrote when you delved into the basics on your own. So this effectively makes me your teacher."

Harry couldn't refute that. Damn immortal old man.

"Immortal old man indeed. Now let's get to work shall we?" said Belgarath when he mentally heard what Harry quipped in his mind. Again, he clapped his hands to bring the both of them back to the task at hand. "Tell me what is your godfather's wand made of?"

"It was made of two woods - Alder for the handle and Oak for the shaft. The core is from a Hungarian Horntail." answered Harry, a bit apprehensive when the old Sorcerer told him that he would be making the wand but he was excited at the same time.

"Hmmmm. A masculine wand if it was made of Alder and Oak – both trees are magically powerful if truth be told, more so if it had a Hungarian Horntail as its core." Belgarath mused thoughtfully, scratching his chin. "The length?"

"Exactly 15 inches." Harry answered immediately.

"Ahhhhh. Definitely a powerful wand. But I digress. Let me explain to you how I craft the wands, Harry Potter." He waited until Harry nodded. "In the case of Ollivander, he creates a wand as a wizard. He studies Wand Lore – matching wood and magical cores along with other calculations to determine the length to produce optimal results. He creates wands and wait for a wizard or a witch to bond with them. To put it simply, he creates a general purpose wand that anyone can use as long as the synchronization of their power matches with the wood and core."

"However, a Sorcerer creates a wand through instinct. Tell me, Harry Potter, from my lessons, what is the true power of a Sorcerer." Belgarath asked his on-the-spot disciple. This was the start of their 'final' lesson.

"From what I've learned, the power of a Sorcerer stems from the Will and the Word. From your words, it is the Heart and the Mind; the melding of both to control reality though with limitations."

"And what is this limitation that you speak of?" asked the old Sorcerer with a raised eyebrow.

"Knowledge." answered Harry without any hesitation.

"Good. You have learned my lessons to heart. Before, your form of Sorcery is mere parlor tricks to what a REAL sorcerer is really capable of. If we want to get something done then we need to know HOW to do it. That is why a sorcerer's life is devoted to the acquisition of knowledge. It would be safe to say that you felt the drive to learn anything and everything you can AFTER you have exercised the power, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"The creation of a wand by a sorcerer is quite simple, Harry Potter. You Will the wand to create itself and use the Word to turn this into reality. You don't need fancy spells and rituals to get this done. You just need to believe with all your heart and mind that you can do it and let your power flow. Of course, you need the knowledge that you CAN do it before it can be done. Understood?"

"Ummm…I think so." Harry answered with a little bit of doubt in his voice.

"What did I tell you about the Heart and the Mind, boy? The Will and the Word?" rebuked the old Sorcerer.

Harry sat up straight and looked Belgarath in the eye.

"Yes, I understand perfectly."

"Good. There's hope for you yet." Belgarath said with a nod. "Now, I want you to stand up and clear up the middle of the room."

Harry nodded and pushed himself off the couch, using his new discovery regarding his powers, he willed the two couches and table away with a whispered word.

"I hope you didn't destroy them, boy. I loved those furniture." growled Belgarath.

"Uhhh no. It's at the front of your shop right now, just beside the counter where you were reading on." said Harry while cringing back from the glare that the old sorcerer was giving him.

"Good." grunted Belgarath while ignoring the sigh of relief from his impromptu disciple. "Now stand in the middle and gather your Will. Envision what you want to happen in your mind. Imagine the persona of Sirius Black…who is he to you…what is he to you…what will he become to you? Put this in your mind as you gather in your will."

Harry did as instructed. He closed his eyes and envisioned Sirius Black. He hadn't seen the man so he used the pictures of the infamous Marauder in the family album. He smiled when he remembered the journal entries between the both of them. He wanted to laugh when he remembered the jokes the old dog wanted to do when he got out of prison. He imagined what life would be like if Sirius was living with him.

Belgarath was observing his on-the-spot disciple as he called upon the memory of his godfather. He sensed the power in the child. It was stronger, stronger than his grandson. It seems that the melding of both his Magical Core and a Sorcerer's Will produced amazing results. The child could do both, could use spells as if it was nothing, utilize his skills in Sorcery as if it was nothing. This child was not the bastardized version of a sorcerer that the Wizarding World categorized the position. No…this child was the real deal, a REAL sorcerer of old.

He was brought out of his musings when Harry, while eyes still closed as if in a trance, raised his hands beside him, parallel to the floor with palms facing upwards. Two of the cabinets shot open, two blocks of wood flew out; a piece of dark-hued wood on the left and a light-hued wood on the right, both suspended in air above the opened palm.

Without warning, Harry brought both of his hands upwards as if to clap, the blocks of wood followed. When the woods met, a whispered word of "unite" was heard throughout the room. The two woods melted into each other and combined into one, revealing a perfect blend of Oak and Alder, twirling around each other until meeting at the tip. The finished product was held steady, floating in the air, in between Harry's open palms.

Belgarath marveled at the complexity of the design and its creation. But the boy wasn't done yet.

While the 15 inch wand was floating over his head, Harry's right fell to his front, palms facing forward. This time the cabinet at the very back of the shop burst open and a jar flew out and stopped to hover in front of the boy's open palm.

With a murmured word, the jar broke, shards of glass falling to the floor, leaving a dragon heartstring floating in the air. Harry grasped the floating wand made of Oak and Alder with his left hand. He slashed it downwards and stopped with its tip pointing at the floating heartstring. Harry's right hand moved, grasping his left, to hold the wand firmly in place while still pointing at the floating core. Harry smiled and whispered the word "combine" that released a wave of Magic and Will that caused a distortion in the air. The release of both powerful forces kept building up until a roaring crescendo was heard inside the workshop.

The two energies floated around, encircling the boy who still had a smile on his face. As the energies reached its peak, it swirled inwards towards the floating core, being absorbed into it despite its small size. Once it was done, and without warning, the core melted and turned into quicksilver before being sucked into the blank wand through the tip. When the process was completed, all the energies in the workshop disappeared as if it was never there.

Belgarath began to clap as Harry opened his eyes.

"Well done, my boy. Well done. You have successfully crafted your very first wand, and a powerful one at that."

"Huh." was all Harry's reply as he looked at the old Sorcerer in confusion.

Beglarath didn't say anything but used a finger to point at the wand Harry was holding. Harry followed the finger until his gaze settled on the beautiful wand he was holding.

"Merlin's bloody balls, I created this?" exclaimed Harry in surprise, shock, and disbelief as he felt the power inside the wand, how it hummed with energy and purpose. He knew instinctively that this wasn't his wand but Sirius'. "I really created this?"

Belgarath nodded.

"Yes you did. It was a marvelous display of power and creativity even if it was your first time. Your memories of Sirius aided your Magic and Will to work together for the first time. Using your memories of Siriuis Black, you called to the ingredients available to craft this wand. As your mind was so focused on the memories, your Magic and Will guided your body to the task. All three aspects, Mind, Magic, and Will combined to call the right ingredients – a block of Alder and Oak, as well as the heartstring of a Hungarian Horntail. You fashioned the wand exactly as the length dictates that would be perfect for your godfather."

"At the end of it all, your Magic and Will flew out of you and powered the process to combine all three ingredients. The result is what you are holding right now." Belgarath chuckled before whispering. "You are properly named, Shadow Sorcerer."

"Now that you have crafted your godfather's wand, I daresay that it is fine time you leave, Harry Potter." stated Belgarath.

Harry nodded before summoning another block of Oak from the cupboard using a simple Accio Charm. He caught the block of wood as it soared to him easily before transfiguring it into a wooden box. He conjured a piece of black silk at the bottom of the box and laid the wand reverently on it to rest. He closed the box and pocketed it. With a nod to Belgarath, Harry moved to exit the workshop but he was stopped when the voice of Belgarath reached him.

"Before you leave…boy…tell me your name."

Harry didn't bother to turn around. He just looked over his shoulder towards the old sorcerer who taught him so much in both books and life.

"My name is Lord Harry James Potter. Lord of the Houses Potter, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw. A Shadow Sorcerer."

With that he left the room, leaving a chuckling old Sorcerer behind him.

Edited by Corruptmonk

May 26, 2012