Hey everyone... I'm back with Chapter 102... Enjoy!
In a year filled with an abundance of pain and sacrifice, love and happiness, danger and consequences, Harry Potter had found himself with yet another enchanting secret, but one that added a sense of calm and peace, a diminutive, otherworldly companion in Mystara. The ethereal sprite, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand, became Harry's confidant and an unseen source of magic that blossomed in the quiet corners of his existence. From the moment Harry first saw Mystara, the pocket-sized marvel with iridescent wings that shimmered like stardust, he sensed a connection that transcended the ordinary, or so it was designed to be. Mystara was present with Harry in every single moment, yet its presence was known only to a select few, Professor White, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, Hermione and Newt Scamander, of course.
When Harry was given the mystical creature by Mr Scamander, he was asked to hold it in the palm of his hands and look into its glittering eyes.
"My name is Harry Potter," said Harry, awestruck. The Mystara glanced back at Harry.
"You are going to make Hedwig jealous," he chuckled.
After a moment, Harry asked, "Will you protect me from any kind of Legilimency attacks and illusions?"
The Mystara remained stationary in the palm of Harry's hands. But right then, it seemed to glide forward a little bit as its colour danced in between gentle blue and a mystic purple.
"Keep her with you at all times, Mr Potter," exclaimed White and Harry nodded in response. "We will have to train tomorrow to make sure the creature is protecting you," he added.
"Yes, Professor... But, I'm certain she will," replied Harry, feeling a sense of calm spreading inside him.
From that moment, Mystara remained with Harry throughout his day, well hidden from everyone else. And then onwards, Harry felt a change inside him. The mystical creature kept Harry serene under tough situations and Harry felt a lot more happy and content. So much so that the Mystara's ever-changing colours started to mirror the ebb and flow of emotions in Harry's heart. The gentle blue hues when he revelled in tranquillity, the mystic purples that danced during moments of magic, and the verdant greens that embraced him in times of solace.
As the days went by, Harry and White went at each other during their training sessions, and Mystara's presence seemed to influence Harry's magic as well. Owing to infrequent outbursts of frustration, Harry seemed to get better and better at showcasing his magical prowess.
And then there was the most important reason for Mystara's need, protecting Harry from Legilimency.
White tried to perform Legilimency on Harry with varying degrees of intensity. In the beginning, Harry didn't even feel the effects of the mystical creature. However, White's attempts were met with an impregnable brick wall. What seemed like a cakewalk earlier, seemed impossible. White couldn't sense what Harry was feeling and thinking. Later on, the pair trained once again with unforgivable curses and White was able to drain Harry of his energy. And in that moment of weakness, without warning, White attacked Harry's mind once again. And once again, White's attacks were met with a brick wall.
"Professor, do you believe I'm out of danger now?" asked Harry, hopefully.
"Mr Potter," began White and paused. He was certain that Harry was protected from mere mortals with their bounded magic, but Voldemort was different gravy. What Harry and Voldemort shared was much more than just shared trauma, they shared something that very, very few individuals throughout magical history had shared, a soul. "You are well protected from Legilimency attacks," replied White with a brief smile.
Harry's face lit up. "Brilliant," he remarked.
In the days that went by, Harry and the Mystara's relationship solidified. Their companionship was built on a foundation of telepathic communication. Mystara, with feather-like antennae quivering in response to Harry's thoughts, became the vessel through which unspoken words flowed. Whether it was the joy of a successful spell, the weight of unspoken worries, or the simple appreciation of magical wonders, Mystara understood it all.
The OWLs were almost upon them and every single 5th year student had only one thing on their mind. Everybody was scrambling for notes, and study materials, trying to get their revisions done. The Professors were also giving them loads of homework, trying to get them better prepared for the biggest test of their lives, which was only a couple of weeks away.
Hermione had started to lose her mind in all of this. Every word she uttered to her friends, be it Harry or Ron; Cedric, Colin, Neville or Draco; was about how much revisions she had done and how much was left. She carried a planner with her, everywhere she went, marking every single hour she spent studying, in it, keeping track of what had been studied and what needed to be studied right then.
Even Ron, who was mostly superficial with his studies had started to focus more, probably owing to the push Dumbledore had given him. He had formed a study group with Seamus, Dean and Neville, and each one of them spent their days and nights studying a subject so that they could explain it to the rest the following day. Elsewhere, Daphne went mad every moment she got reminded of the hours and hours she had wasted in the prior months that she could have instead spent sharpening her memory. Fortunately, she had Colin and Luna keeping her sane through all of it.
In all of this, each and every one who had been close to Harry thanked their lucky stars, for there was one thing none of them had to worry about, duelling and performing magic for their practical exams. All of them were well accomplished in tackling weird transfigurations, complicated charms and sneaky dark arts.
Through all of the madness surrounding him, Harry lived his life fairly unbothered. He had Hermione preparing him with all of his subjects, even the ones that she didn't have as electives. He obviously had nothing to worry about when it came to performing magic. And he had a mystical creature keeping his mental balance steady. But the recently turned Saint-like Harry Potter had something coming to turn his life upside down, once again.
"Harry, please look a little serious about your OWLs. I'm getting worried about you," remarked Hermione.
"I'm studying, Hermione... just because I'm not tensed doesn't mean I'm not serious," replied Harry, with a smile.
"Gosh, I wish I had something keeping me calm," sighed Hermione as he dove back into her book.
"You have me, Hermione... why would you need a Mystara?" chuckled Harry as he leaned into her and kissed her cheek.
"Harry," exclaimed Hermione. "Focus," she ordered, blushing a little.
Just then, the couple heard footsteps in a silent library and glanced up to find Professor Slughorn walking towards them.
"Good evening, Harry, Miss Granger," greeted Slughorn, beaming wide.
"Professor," exclaimed Hermione, her face red with embarrassment.
"Professor," remarked Harry, surprised.
"Harry, may I have a word with you?" asked Slughorn. "In private," he added quickly.
Hermione and Harry glanced at each other, perplexed. But after a moment, Harry got up and walked away with their Potions professor.
The pair reached Slughorn's office and only then did Professor Slughorn open his mouth.
"Harry," began Slughorn. After a moment, he continued, nervousness apparent in his face, "There's something that has been haunting me recently," he remarked. "Please sit down," he said, gesturing to Harry to sit down opposite him.
Harry took a seat, intrigued.
"I had been afraid all these years, that someone would find out about my involvement in the... cruelty and pain You-know-who has caused," began Slughorn. After a moment, he continued, "And then once afternoon, Dumbledore came to my doorstep, asking me questions I wish I didn't have answers to," he said. "Once he knew he had failed to get me talking, he plotted against me, and brought me back to Hogwarts, all because he knew I wouldn't give up on adding you, Harry Potter, to the list of illustrious students I've had in my career," he remarked, remorsefully. "In return, he had hoped, I'd let you in on the secret I've been protecting all my life," he added.
"Professor, you don't have to feel this way, you don't have to tell us about it if you don't want to," remarked Harry. "We already know what we are dealing with. You-know-who has created multiple Horcruxes, and we'll have to find out all of them, to destroy him fully," he added.
"Harry... Harry, let me complete," sighed Slughorn, he was trying to lift a heavy weight off his back.
Harry went quiet and nodded in response a moment later.
"You have to understand, Harry, how deeply affected I am, by everything Tom has done," sighed Slughorn, looking a little defeated. "He was one of a kind, even back when he was a student of mine. Deeply driven, a no-nonsense, passionate individual he was, and not once did he ever give me any impression about the brutality that lay beneath, dormant. He didn't have any distractions, nothing deterred him from achieving the very best. Some might have termed him as occasionally rude, narcissistic and overconfident, but trust me when I tell you, everyone, who has made a name for themselves, created a change for the better of the world, has at one point or another been narcissistic and overconfident. I simply saw it as a characteristic of an influential and powerful wizard, than as one of a savage," described Slughorn, sombrely.
Harry stared at him, calmly. He could understand what Slughorn was going through, he had no idea how he'd react if someone he knew very well to be a good person turned to the dark side.
"When Tom asked me about Horcruxes, I simply thought he was keen and curious," remarked Slughorn and pulled out his wand. He placed his wand near his temple and extracted silvery-translucent strands of his memory and poured it into a tiny vial. "This contains what you seek," he remarked and handed the vial to Harry.
Harry stared at Slughorn, shocked by the sudden change in his heart. "Professor," he began, stunned.
"I'm sorry it took me this long, Harry... And thank you, for showing me my wrongs," remarked Slughorn, smiling.
"Thank you so much, Professor," replied Harry, beaming wide.
Harry ran from Slughorn's office to Dumbledore's office, excitedly.
"Toffee Eclairs," muttered Harry and Dumbledore's opened.
"Professor," called out Harry, hastily, holding the vial tightly. "I just spoke with Professor Slughorn," he announced. "You are not going to believe what he just did," he added.
"Hello, Harry," greeted Dumbledore, calmly.
Harry held out the vial in his hand. "These are his memories of Tom Riddle," he remarked.
"Well done, Harry, I knew Horace would have a change of heart eventually," he announced.
The pair dove deep into Dumbledore's Pensieve immediately.
Memory after memory flashed away as the pair consumed it all.
"… What does it mean to be immortal, Professor? …" came young Tom Riddle's voice.
"… Some say …" came the crisp voice of Horace Slughorn.
"… Does Nicholas Flamel's elixir work? …" came young Tom Riddle's voice.
"… The Philosopher's Stone is real …" came the voice of Horace Slughorn.
"… What can you tell me about Horcruxes? …" came young Tom Riddle's voice.
"… Well, you split your soul, you see, and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form... few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable …" came the voice of Horace Slughorn.
"… I was just doing some light reading, Professor … " came young Tom Riddle's voice.
"… Theoretically, you could have more than one Horcrux, Tom. But, this is all theoretical, isn't it, Tom? …" came the voice of Horace Slughorn.
"… Of course, Professor! Theoretically, one could then split their soul into 7 parts, right, Professor? I mean, theoretically …" came young Tom Riddle's voice.
"7? My God! Only a monster... only a monster would..." came the voice of Horace Slughorn.
The memories ended and Harry woke up with a jolt.
"7?" he exclaimed, stunned. "He split his soul into 7 pieces?" he asked, loudly.
"We can't be sure, but that would be a good assumption to start with," replied Dumbledore, calmly.
"Did you know that he'd have created so many? How are you so calm?" asked Harry, looking distraught. Just then, he felt a little energy flow through him and he calmed down a bit.
"I suspected as much," replied Dumbledore, sombrely.
"What are we going to do now?" asked Harry, desperately.
"We need to identify what objects Tom would have made into his Horcruxes," replied Dumbledore. "A Horcrux is one of the darkest magical objects, it'd leave a trace behind whatever touches it," he remarked, staring at Harry.
"But, he could have absolutely turned anything into a Horcrux, how would we find out?" asked Harry in return.
"I don't believe so, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "Calm down a little, I have a little bit more to share with you," he added.
Harry sat down and Dumbledore took a seat beside him.
"While the prospect of searching seemingly random objects might be terrifying, I don't think Tom would have chosen any random objects. I know him very well, and knowing the things he has done, I'm sure you have a fair idea of the man he is," began Dumbledore. "He put way too much importance on himself. He valued a lot of things in his time before, during and after Hogwarts. He hated his muggle heritage and did everything to find out about his magical lineage," he remarked.
Harry went into some thought but didn't look all that convinced.
"You might like to know that we have already destroyed 2 of his Horcruxes," remarked Dumbledore, with a brief smile.
Harry's expression turned into a grin. "2?" he asked, surprised.
Dumbledore got up and walked up to his desk and opened a drawer. "You might remember this," he remarked and held out Tom Riddle's diary.
"Of course, this one was destroyed by Jane in the Chamber," replied Harry. "But I didn't know about his 2nd Horcrux," he sighed, surprised.
"I present to you, the Gaunt family heirloom, a ring," remarked Dumbledore, holding the ring in the palm of his right hand. Harry extended his hand to touch the ring, but Dumbledore forbade him from doing so. "No, don't," exclaimed Dumbledore, glancing at his injured hand.
"Destroying the ring did this to your hand?" asked Harry, shocked.
Dumbledore nodded and continued, "Marvolo Gaunt, Tom's grandfather possessed this ring, that had been passed on through generations," he remarked. "I went to the old Gaunt shack in Little Hangleton and found this hidden in its ruins," he added.
"His family's heirloom hidden in his old house," wondered Harry, looking a lot more convinced of Dumbledore's theory.
A silence lasted between the pair for a couple of minutes. Dumbledore went back to the Pensieve to revisit the memories. Meanwhile, Harry found himself worrying about the search for the Horcruxes, which seemed like a hopeless task at the moment.
When Dumbledore came back, Harry asked, "Professor, how do we identify more of his Horcruxes? Where do you think they'd be hidden?"
Dumbledore, however, seemed deep in thought. Instead of responding to his question, he started pacing his room. Meanwhile, Harry kept speaking. "We need to find the Horcruxes, clandestine, and destroy them without You-know-who finding out," he sighed. After an instant, "Professor, do you think he knows that we know about the Horcruxes. Don't you think he'd have felt the Horcruxes being destroyed?" he asked, worried.
After a few moments, Dumbledore stopped pacing his office.
"Harry," he began. "You've just asked an important question," he remarked. "Did you notice how Tom was asking Horace about the Philosopher's Stone?" he asked. After a moment, he continued. "Now, back then, he was after immortality. It makes sense that he thought of the stone. But he went ahead and created the Horcruxes nevertheless," he remarked.
"What are you trying to say, Professor?" asked Harry, confused. "He tried to procure the elixir when he was formless, and eventually, a couple of years later, he used it to get back to his form," he added. "But he was looking for the stone even before. So, what?" he asked.
"I'm just wondering about his interest in the stone," sighed Dumbledore.
"You said it so yourself..." began Harry but went quiet when he looked at Dumbledore.
"Tom was a brilliant young man. He was cold and had a dark and sad heart. But he understood magic better than most his age. And as he grew older, his power and magical understanding just got better and better," remarked Dumbledore, calmly. "I had always found it hard to believe that he willingly split his soul into 7 pieces, thereby weakening himself," he added. Harry looked puzzled and Dumbledore continued. "Nothing in this world comes without its consequences, Harry. Creating a Horcrux, and splitting your soul requires an incredible amount of strength, desire and magical ability to pull off. You have split your soul and kept it hidden, safe from your body. In return, you have sacrificed your magical strength," he added.
"So, you are saying, You-know-who always planned on acquiring the elixir to make himself whole again?" asked Harry.
"Precisely, Harry... he always intended to get the elixir and get his strength back," replied Dumbledore. "But he might have not considered the consequences of the elixir," he added, a big smile appearing on his face.
Harry stared at him, confused. "What consequences are you referring to, Professor?" he asked.
"By using the Philosopher's Stone to get his body back, Tom Riddle might have just lost the war," remarked Dumbledore, proudly.
It was getting late in the evening, almost the closing time for dinner. Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville were in the middle of a heated discussion about the brewing of the Draught of Peace potion.
"Adding stewed mandrake will turn the potion green, not yellow," protested Dean.
"No... you add it, and the colour turns yellow... and then you stir the liquid till it turns green," replied Ron, annoyed.
"The liquid would be orange in colour, it will turn yellow when we add more mandrake," chimed in Seamus. "But I don't understand, how adding more mandrake is turning the liquid from Purple to Red and then Orange, Yellow, Green, Turquoise and finally Purple again," he sighed.
"I'm never going to remember the order of the colours," sighed Dean and Neville vigorously nodded alongside him.
Just then, the four of them heard a loud buzzing sound, grabbing their attention.
"Ron, your watch is buzzing again," said Seamus, annoyed.
"Yeah, I can hear that," retorted Ron as he pulled out the watch from his pocket. Ever since Voldemort's mental assault on Harry, Ron had been carrying the watch previously owned by John, with him at all times. And ever so frequently, the watch would buzz. In every single instance, the watch would be buzzing to show Jane either in danger or sometimes, mortal danger. A couple of times, he had mentioned it to Dumbledore, but none of them knew what Jane was doing, or where she was. While Ron worried about her, but he didn't pay too much heed to the buzzing of the watch.
Ron pulled out the watch and stared at the dials. And it was then that he got up in a state of panic. It wasn't buzzing to indicate that Jane was in "Danger", the watch was buzzing to indicate that Daisy was in "Mortal Danger". Everyone else' dial was pointing to "Safe".
"Oh No," exclaimed Ron and got up hastily and sprinted out of the common room. He heard Seamus and Dean's voice calling for him, but he sprinted as fast as he could towards Dumbledore's office.
He had just made it a few metres when he saw Hermione walking towards him.
"Ron? What happened?" asked Hermione as she saw Ron running towards her, in a state of panic.
Ron came to an abrupt halt. He was panting and words barely came out of his mouth. "Daisy... Danger... Watch..." he said, breathlessly and showed the watch in his hand. And instantly, he started sprinting again.
"Wait... hold on," said Hermione, confused and started running behind him.
The pair made it to Dumbledore's office in no time, Ron reached first, and Hermione reached a few seconds later. The moment he uttered the password, he dashed in and heard feeble voices.
"… he may not be able to sense it," came Harry's voice.
"Professor Dumbledore," called Ron, loudly and breathlessly.
"Ron?" exclaimed Harry, confused. "What happened?" he asked.
"What is it, Ron?" asked Dumbledore.
"Hermione?" wondered Harry out loud as his eyes fell on Hermione.
"The watch... John's watch... was buzzing... Daisy's in danger," announced Ron and held out the watch which was now silent, but Daisy's dial was still pointing to "Mortal Danger".
Dumbledore took the watch and stared at the dials. Right then, the watch started buzzing again. Right in front of Dumbledore's eyes, Jane's dial went from "Safe" to "Danger" and quickly shifted to "Mortal Danger".
"What happened?" asked the trio together.
"Jane is also in danger," replied Dumbledore.
Hope you enjoyed this one. How did you like Mystara? And I hope you liked the subtle change in Voldemort that I have introduced...
PS - The next one will be out very, very soon. Stay tuned! Ciao!