Chapter 51: Chapter 51: The Silent Night
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11 March 1992, Hogwarts
The moment the blood touched the man's lips, something fundamentally changed. Harry ignored Longbottom's moans of pain as he reached for his scar, too preoccupied with the utter agony and wrongness that seemed to magically scream to everything around it. The world itself cried out at the act, and Harry was deafened by its screams.
Harry woke up in a very comfortable bed. He blinked his eyes open and looked for his glasses to have a better look. He was met with a wide room with many beds. Its floor looked like it was made of marble, and the ceiling was entirely white. He was immediately accosted by the familiar face of Madam Pomfrey, "Oh, so you're finally up, Mr Potter. Take this."
The mediwitch practically forced a potion down his throat. It tasted vile but he did feel better, calmer in a way. He blinked slightly and asked her, "How long have I been here?"
"A little over a week," the mediwitch responded, "how in Merlin's name did you stress your magical pathway that much, I have no idea. What kind of spell were you even attempting to cast?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Harry replied.
The woman snorted, "With a magical crest that unusual, I have a hard time thinking of that. It's most certainly connected to what happened to you."
At his worried look, the matron snorted, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about it. Patient confidentiality is part of the oath I took when I became a healer. Unless you're dying and can't make a decision yourself, I can only communicate it with your guardians. Family members are usually knowledgeable when it comes to individual magical crests and the like. I have to say that I have never seen it be manifested in such a large way, on your chest, no less."
Harry relaxed slightly at her assurances and tried to move. His chest was burning, specifically near where his chest manifested. But why was his crest aching so much? Confused, he murmured to himself, "What happened?"
"That's precisely what I wished to find out," an aged voice replied next to him.
Harry stiffened; this was Dumbledore. He didn't even notice the headmaster being there. Sure, he was still disoriented somewhat, but that wasn't a good excuse for not paying attention. Harry didn't trust Dumbledore, not one bit. He wasn't that ethically bound as he liked people to believe, that's for sure. The compulsion charm to get Harry to have the urge to look at the mirror or Erised was already a black mark on his record.
The Potter scion then started activating his Occlumency, emptying his mind, and calming himself.
"What do you mean, Headmaster?" He simply replied.
"Well, what happened in the Forbidden Forrest was very unfortunate. You'll be pleased to know that Mr Weasley, and Ms Granger, did not have any encounter with whatever attacked you and Mr Longbottom. However, young Neville has helped fill in what happened on your end. I have to say that you were very brave in saving his life."
Oh, yeah, he did save his life, didn't he? He was starting to remember now. There was a killing curse coming towards Longbottom. Harry tacked him out of the way. He didn't really think about it, he just didn't want the boy to be hurt. Oh, God, the unicorn, was it alright?
Then, in his mind, Harry started to feel a foreign presence, scanning for his thoughts. Deciding to indulge Dumbledore slightly, Harry brought out the encounter with the cloaked figure, without the sensory input for his Arcane Hearing. He definitely did not want Dumbledore to find out about it.
It was easier to fool someone when they are absolutely confident that they are getting one over on you. If he had looked too much at the memory, Dumbledore would have noticed that there was something missing. Like a certain colour missing from a photo. It wasn't complete, but he would never be able to realize it.
Harry simply repressed a smirk and answered, "I didn't really think about it, to be honest, but I am glad that Longbottom is unharmed."
He wasn't even lying. No one should have to die this young, especially because the staff thought it was a good idea to send four first year students into a dangerous forest, with only a half-giant who had his wand snapped and hadn't even finished his magical education.
The headmaster seemed to brighten at his sincerity, "Can you tell me what you remember, young Harry?"
The Potter scion didn't like how familiar the older man was acting but didn't voice it. There was no reason for him to do it. But he did think back at the encounter while making sure to remove Arcane Hearing from the memory.
"Longbottom and I followed the traces of unicorn blood for what felt like hours. We ended up seeing someone or something drinking its blood directly from an injured unicorn."
Yeah, Harry could feel the disgust that came with seeing the glowing silverly liquid around the lips of the monster who dared slay such an innocent creature.
He then continued, "Longbottom for some reason stayed frozen and then started screaming while holding his head. I saw a green spell coming his way and I tackled him out of the way. That's when I realized that it was probably a wizard who was doing it. Longbottom just kept screaming and thrashing around and wouldn't run away. Even then, I don't think we could have outrun it, but I decided to protect us. I fought it. I lost, badly."
Yeah, and the worst thing was that he was giving it his all. He wasn't holding back, but the cloaked figure was just too skilful, too fast. He had tried spells that were unstable, that he hadn't even tested, which included a few curses that he had read in the library.
"I even sent one of my strongest spells at it. I put everything in the tank in that spell," Harry remarked, "it was too fast and dodged everything."
He was right. I did send a very dangerous and unstable lightning spell at the wraith. It wasn't a spell that Harry had experimented much with it. He had just learned it and tried it once in the Room of Requirements. He lacked the control to aim it properly, and the damage was too extreme for any casual use, so he had kept it locked up in case of danger. It was his ace in the hole, and it did absolutely nothing.
"Then it disarmed me and threw me away. I think I hit my head because it's the last thing I remember."
Harry ended the memory as the impact happened, hoping to fool the headmaster.
It seemed to work because Dumbledore nodded in response, "That seems to corroborate with what Mr Longbottom said to me. And overpowering a spell in desperation would explain how your magical pathways were so stressed. So, I will leave you with a small piece of advice. Magic is beautiful and I understand the attractiveness of trying to learn everything you could find. But some magics are better left unexplored, especially when you do not have sufficiently developed magical channels to cast them without injuring yourself. It might have worked out this time, but it will not always be this lucky."
Harry repressed his annoyance at the headmaster's condescending tone and the old man turned and left.
The Potter scion looked at the matron who was still listening in, "You didn't tell him about the crest."
She simply shrugged, "Family secrets are for families. Healers are the few people that have a broader understanding of how they work, and so, we're bound by oaths to not reveal any secret details. It's a good way to make sure that old families don't second guess themselves and just hire healers. Although, most of them do force one of their members to become a healer that would treat family related issues. As for me, as curious as I am with what I have seen, I would rather keep my magic and life, than break my oath and sate my curiosity."
Harry nodded and replied with a grateful tone, "Thank you, nonetheless."
"You should get some more sleep to relax your channels slightly. The potion I gave you should help. You're allowed visitors tomorrow, so you better rest tonight."
The matron smiled warmly at him and left the room, and Harry did feel tired. Before sleeping, he thought back about what happened after he was sent away. The crest was burning. The Arcane screaming from the horrific act had awoken it somewhat. After failing to duel, something had awakened in the crest. Was it because of Harry's desperation? Or was it because of how repulsive the wraith was?
Harry didn't know, but that didn't change the outcome. His hands moved on their own, and he spoke in a language that he didn't even understand. He cast a controlled spell without a wand, one that banished the wraith, and Harry could feel from the song that it was completely barred from entering the forest now.
He even removed Longbottom's memories. But that wasn't him, was it? He hadn't known what the spell would do until he saw its effect. He didn't even understand its origin, or how it worked. He remembered what he had gotten from the Arcane Hearing, but it was far more complex than anything Harry had ever felt before.
It was hard to explain how that happened. It was like his crest had taken control. No, that wasn't it. It was more like the crest hypnotized him into casting magic. Harry could have broken it at any time, but he was too desperate, too afraid to protest the commands.
While the unicorns were now safe, Harry had lost his anonymity. Quirrell might have been interested in him because of his status as a gifted student, but now, having successfully attacked him and barred him from drinking any more unicorn blood, Harry now had his attention, and that of the wraith that possessed him.
That was bad, that was really bad. Harry was banking on being an unknown. It was why he tried to not involve himself as much as possible, and if he did, he tried to be very discreet about it. Why didn't he just put on his invisibility cloak and just escape? He didn't need to fight, and if things went as the stories did, the centaurs would have saved Longbottom anyway. But the stories said nothing about Voldemort casting a killing curse immediately.
Now, he was on both Dumbledore's and Voldemort's radars. The headmaster knew how advanced he really was in terms of duelling, not that it was that surprising. Maybe he had revealed his arsenal of spells. It wasn't that big of a deal, but the man would keep an eye on him, and would probably try to recruit him in the future. But Voldemort had witnessed a power that even Harry didn't understand. That was very bad for his future prospects of staying out of the pissing match between him and Dumbledore.
But at the end of the day, did Harry regret saving Longbottom and the unicorn? No, he did not. For all the disadvantages, he couldn't just let a child die and the unicorns being hunted down was disgusting. Quirrell needed to be stopped, but without a steady supply of unicorn blood, he was going to be desperate and that wasn't good for anyone.
Harry looked out the window and noticed for the first time that it was night. The moon shined on the lake, and the Potter scion realized that the screaming was now gone. Yeah, saving the unicorns was the right thing, if magic itself screamed in agony when they were slain. Harry knew in his heart that the unicorns were now safe, and for the first time in weeks, Harry went to sleep and didn't wake up until the next morning. He stopped thinking about his magical crests and worrying about Voldemort and Dumbledore's machinations.
There was no screaming that night. It was just silent.
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