And Then He Rested
It had been a month since Vernon's death. He had settled in nicely after, of course, he "reminded" his poor aunt about how abusive her husband was. She was upset at his death, but when someone dies from overexertion while beating you, you tend not to mourn long. Dudley was the first to have his memory modified. It was sad really, as the little fat boy lived in the cupboard his whole life.
His plan for the day required a wizard; a drunken bum form the Leaky Caldron would do just fine. His underdeveloped core was very powerful, but not powerful enough. He remembered how he created the power draining ritual. All it took was regret, like when he called on the regret harbored in Dumbledore's portraits mind to call on the last bit of magic needed to power his time turner. He had the basement prepped for the occasion, a few runes and wards here and there were plenty. "I' be back in a moment auntie", he called sweetly, slamming the door behind him. It wasn't long before he had subdued his target, and was on his way back. He softly hummed a tune as he dragged the poor bloke down the basement stairs. As soon as they both were lined up in the correct positions, he began to cause the man to have nightmares of his family murdered because he was drunk.
The man's magic bubbled to the surface, eager to help it's human. It was immediately absorbed by the ruins and stored in a buffer. As magic was captured the pull on the rest of it became stronger. Things continued in this manner until he reached the point of magical exhaustion. At this point a wizard or witch can no longer call on their magic consciously. As the energy keeping him alive was drawled on by the ruins, he began to pale. At this pint the magic was so depleted that the force in him that replenished his magic was begging to draw too much of his life force, killing him. As if an invisible string was broken, his heart stopped beating.
As there was no more magic to drain the pull stopped, and the buffer began to empty into harry. Since magical power was tied into the life span of a wizard; ergo the more magic he had the longer he lived, harry really was just adding days to his life, and giving himself a little boost. As the magic began to drip in to his core the hard part arose. As he accessed his core, he began to push the foreign magic into his own. As the magic was pushed faster and faster he had to concentrate more and more on his core to prevent the magic from being rejected. As the flow stopped and he stepped out of the circle, he smirked.
He ascended the stairs one at a time till he reached the kitchen, gave a fake smile to his aunt, took to his room and laid down for a nap.
AN: how is my Grammer:)