บท 41: Free

Suddenly, the oppressive presence lifted and the pressure disappeared.

The runes on the ancient stone glowed brighter, much brighter than moments before.

If Harry paid more attention to them, he'd have noticed an otherworldly light intertwined with the eerie light from before.

Death had accepted his offering.

Instantly Harry felt something missing from within him.

He felt lighter, as if a weight he hadn't even known he was carrying had been lifted.

An inexplicable sense of freedom encompassed his whole being.

Harry paused, assessing the change within himself.

The connection that had plagued him for so long… the tether to Voldemort's twisted soul, was gone.

Just like that.

'I'm free. Free of the dark lord,' he thought, a sense of peace so profound he almost forgot about the ritual.

Taking a moment to steady his trembling legs, Harry moved to the third point of the star.

He walked, a step at a time, feeling the soul-freezing cold evanesce.

The feelings that Death caused him were ineffable…

He briefly wondered if he'd be having nightmares about Death as well now.

'Knowing my luck, I'll be stuck soul within a loop where Death has come into the mortal realm and Ozeth roasts me alive,' Harry thought wryly, shuddering at the thought.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering chill that seemed to have settled in his bones and pushed the thoughts of freedom into the back of his mind.

There was no time to dwell on the happenings now, he could do so later; the ritual demanded his full attention.

Ignoring his gashing wound, Harry moved to the next point of the star.

Without wasting any time the injured boy proceeded with the next sacrifice.

"Magic, I beseech thee. This innate gift, to sense your flow, I offer freely, though it pains me so. Take this essence, a part of me, in hopes that greater power there may be."

As Harry spoke those words, he felt a sudden shift within himself.

The world around him seemed to dim, losing some of its vibrancy.

He felt as if a fog descended upon him, obscuring one of his senses.

The familiar hum of magic faded into a somewhat muted whisper.

Harry gritted his teeth, pushing through the disorienting sensation as he walked towards the fourth point of the star.

Things were bound to get much worse before they got better…

By now Harry had offered three sacrifices to three different beings.

Death's sacrifice was as straightforward as it was ambiguous.

For all Harry knew, Death could have taken the fact that they freed Harry from the horcrux as a reward and called it a day.

However, they should have known that Harry could have done so much more easier, without risking their wrath upon him.

Salazar's runes also suggested a fair trade…

The four remaining sacrifices would go to the other two entities, two each.

As a result, Earth and Magic would each receive three sacrifices, while Death would receive one.

Harry stepped onto the next point, noting that the runic lines now glowed several times brighter than before.

'This will hurt,' he mused while making sure his bleeding didn't get out of hand, lest he fainted and then died…

Gritting his teeth, Harry recited the next part of the ritual.

"Mother Earth, nurturer of all, I present an offering, pure and sublime. A substance of magic, life's essence distilled. For two years it's guarded, fought battles untold, and saved me, when one could not. I offer you Fawkes' tears," Harry intoned, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the words left his lips, he felt a searing pain course through his body, as if his very soul was being torn apart—because it was.

Without the phoenix tears in his bloodstream, the ancient venom, which was coursing alongside the tears, immediately dominated all his defences, as they had been trying to do so for two years.

Knowing that he didn't have much time to live, Harry rushed to the next point while trying to have his second soul battle.

Unlike the small, tattered fragment of Voldemort's soul, the essence of the dead basilisk attempting to overpower him was leagues above it in ferociousness.

Harry could feel his body weakening rapidly, his vision about to begin blurring at the edges.

The venom burned through his veins, each heartbeat spreading the deadly toxin further.

With a gasping breath, he forced himself to start his next offering.

His voice wavered but didn't stop as he spoke the next part of the ritual.

"Mother Earth, to you I bring, the venom of a creature old, whose bitter strike, by fate, was bold. It fell beneath my sword's swift sweep, Its unjust wrath now laid to sleep. I ask not for gifts anew, but for what I hold, strong and true— To deepen, sharpen, and ignite, what already burns within my sight."

As the words left his lips, Harry felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him as the offending force vanished.

Stumbling slightly, he steadied himself against the cold stone floor.

'That's that,' Harry thought grimly and looked at the sixth point of the accursed runic diagram.

He had survived the most dangerous part of the ritual, but he wasn't out of the woods yet.

With trembling legs, he forced himself to move forward, each step accompanied by mutterings of curses in his mind.

He didn't dare say anything aloud that wasn't part of the ritual; any deviation from the carefully crafted words could spell disaster.

"Oh, mother of my kind, I come in grace. A humble gift I bring to thee, the mystic sense, once mine to hold, through soul-bond with your serpent bold. In parting with this sense, I release my touch of you, in hope that from this loss, a deeper power will come forth," Harry intoned, his voice growing weaker with each word.

As the final syllable left his lips, Harry felt a profound shift within himself.

The world around him seemed to dim even further, as if a veil had been drawn over his senses.

He stumbled, barely catching himself as the last vestiges of his magical awareness faded away.

Doing his best not to panic due to the sudden disorientation he felt, Harry headed to the last point of the star.

'Oh no. No, no, no. Please let me make it,' he thought desperately and his attempts at controlling his panic were mild at best.

Harry's vision swam and the room started spinning around him.

He tried to steady himself, but his legs gave out beneath him.

With a sharp gasp, Harry stumbled forward, his knees buckling.

He hit the cold stone floor hard, the impact jarring through his weakened body.

For a moment, Harry lay there, his cheek pressed against the rough surface of the stone, struggling to catch his breath.

He was briefly glad that he lost his magical sense as he closed his eyes.

The room was so bright, it was like staring directly into the sun.

The intensity of the magical energy surrounding must have been just as overwhelming.

Harry squinted against the blinding light, his eyes watering as he struggled to keep them open.

'I can't fail now. Not now…' he decided as he looked at the last sacrifice he was going to offer.

Lying in all its glory at the centre of the room, Ozeth's menacing body seemed to mock Harry's struggles.

Images of Dumbledore and the brief duel they had flashed across the exhausted youth's mind.

There's no way that he'd let Grindelwald's wand polisher get away with everything he did to him.

'It's funny what one can learn when determined,' Harry thought with a vindictive smile.

With trembling arms, he pushed himself up, fighting against the overwhelming urge to throw up and faint.

The blood loss was getting quite bad and he'd have to call Fawkes to heal him.

'After the ritual. Can't have anything go amiss.'

Every movement was a battle, but Harry refused to give in.

Step by agonising step, he stepped towards the final point of the star, green bolts of lightning flashing in his eyes.

"Oh Magic of old, hear my final plea, I offer thee this flesh, this power, the last of the Abyssal Reavers, Ozeth, the Black Dread. In return, I ask this: Let me become what he once was. To rise as the last Abyssal Reaver, and claim my enemy's forsaken place, but still a human."

As the words left Harry's lips, a surge of raw power coursed through the chamber.

The runes flared with blinding intensity, and Harry felt a searing pain engulf his entire being.

He screamed, his voice echoing off the ancient walls as the magic of the ritual reached its final stage.

Harry vaguely remembered seeing three figures before he blacked out.

[https://www.patreon.com/Mr_0ne] -> "Ch. 48 - Here we go again…"

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