บท 9: IX. The Lone Tree
🙞 4 January 1990 | Hogwarts, Scotland 🙜
🙞 Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore | Supreme Mugwump 🙜
He sat in his office, silent. Other than the moonlight, only the blaze of his Phoenix lighted the room, glinting against his half-moon-shaped glasses. Time hasn't been kind to Albus, and things only seemed to worsen every day.
On top of his mahogany table, a newly printed newspaper lay. 'Harry Potter, Sighted in Diagon Alley!' was its title. Albus had done all he could in his power to seal any information concerning Harry, yet it hadn't been enough. The less the public knew about the boy, the safer he would be.
It brought him back to the memory of a tiny cupboard, child toys hidden in its corners alongside spider nests.
Albus Dumbledore had failed in his judgement. Even he, vanquisher of Grindelwald, couldn't have predicted the extent of Petunia's cruelty. To do that to a child, her sister's son no less, he couldn't comprehend it. He should've paid more attention to the boy, to what happened behind closed doors.
Alas, it was too late - there was no fixing the damage. All Albus could do was search for the boy, hoping for a miracle.
He had even joined the Aurors in their pursuit of a magical child Apparating all over Britain. Of course, he hadn't disclosed the child's true identity to Isabel Mallard, the head of the investigation.
There were still a lot of Voldemort sympathisers in the Ministry, so he had opted not to risk it. Regardless, it was a moot point now. The cat was out of the bag.
Dumbledore only hoped that the owls of Hogwarts could find the boy's whereabouts before the first term started. So far, they had been unfruitful in their search.
Despite being trained to track individuals, they still had yet to find the boy. Not to mention the Book of Admittance, which not only declined Squibs but also recorded an image of each new student. Utilising the Book of Admittance's pictures, Hogwarts owls were supposed to find their recipients before the first term.
Again, it was a moot point. It was near impossible to track a Wizard who constantly changed locations or went into hiding in the wilderness. The boy could even be living in a big city, which also made tracking harder than it should be.
Albus' worry worsened with each passing day, but he was sometimes thankful for it. It distracted him from more obscure, darker thoughts.
In the recesses of his old mind, he couldn't help but compare little Harry and Tom Riddle. Both grew up, shunned, in Muggle places. Whilst young, both displayed control over magic beyond their years.
He dreaded that Tom Riddle's traits had bled, somehow, into Harry. That the boy's innocence was no more, tainted by human cruelty - that it was beyond saving.
Albus couldn't help but stare again at the newspaper. Harry stood at the front page, his emerald green eyes glinting, a sharper expression than any child should ever display. On the boy's left shoulder, a raven stared directly at the camera lens, unblinking, its eyes inky black.
The pair had their necks slightly craned sideways, similar in mannerisms, and the boy's posture was hostile, waiting, prepared.
The newspaper image moved, the boy saying something under his breath. Half a second later, the pair disappeared in a snap of displaced air.
🙞 17 June 1991 | Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley 🙜
🙞 'Konrad Barak Schwarz' | Harry James Potter 🙜
A single drop of sweat trailed down his back, and everything seemed distant, out of focus. His strawberry blonde hair wanted to reverse back to its natural black, and his nose felt itchy.
"Thank you, dear," Aldrik said to the waiter, his face unrecognisable. Even stranger was the genuine smile on the man's face. His English had not even an inkling of German intermixed, and it got Harry wondering why the man didn't even bother with it when it was just the two of them.
The waiter then left, having delivered their food, "Focus, you still have three more hours to go," 'Isaac' said.
The longer he used the Human Transfiguration spell, the harder it became to control it. Aldrik said he had to achieve twelve straight hours with the spell cast, the equivalent duration of a Polyjuice potion.
"Also, don't forget your studies this night," Aldrik added before going - plate in hand - to one of the rooms they had rented.
Assuming their plan to trick the Quill of Acceptance worked, until Harry received his letter as Konrad, they both had to stay in a place where the owls of Hogwarts could reach. Unsurprisingly, Aldrik had taken advantage of the locational shift to increase his trading network within Diagon Alley.
He had a knack for taking advantage of opportunities, Harry realised.
Before long, Harry was back in his room as well. Without much fanfare, he immediately sat down on the bed, his amber eyes closing.
In the ensuing darkness, colours surged. From the colours came a stone tower, built atop a lone hill. The grass was more detailed than when he had first created the place.
'To think this was magic, even then...' He reminisced on the days he was locked inside the cupboard, not allowed freedom. They were bleak memories, but he didn't dwell much on them.
The tower had replaced the foundation of the cottage he previously had, as he thought it more imposing than a simple house. Overhead, in the sky, grey clouds swallowed the sun, stretching over the small enclosure of his Mind Palace. According to Aldrik, these clouds were the fake memories of Konrad, meant to deceive any who tried to peer into Harry's consciousness.
Those weren't the only differences, however. In the far distance, unconnected to the rest of Harry's Mind Palace, a lone old tree loomed in the background.
Every time he stared at it, he thought of Omen, his raven friend. Aldrik had said that the Mind Palace was the physical representation of one's mind, and thus Harry thought of the tree as his connection with Omen. It would explain how they understood each other so well.
But, regardless of what he did, he could not reach - no matter what - the lone tree. The void that separated his hill from the tree seemed unending.
That day, however, he had a plan.
He walked towards the boundary of his Mind Palace, peering into the dark void near his feet. Before Harry could grow hesitant, he sat down on the floor, feeling the grass under his hands.
According to Aldrik, his Mind Palace was his to command. It was his playground to create and design. With that in mind, he focused, eyes wide open.
Slowly, he imagined the grass expanding, bleeding into the void. Keeping his hands on the grass, he focused on its sensation on his skin. He could also feel its fresh morning dew smell permeating his nostrils.
Immediately, the air felt heavy, magic clogging everything. The void seemed to tremble - weakened - and then it suddenly fell back. A trail cut through the darkness, connecting with the distant tree. The world shook, and Harry could feel it in his bones.
Suddenly, his eyes rolled up his skull, leaving nothing behind but white sclera. Tree branches surrounded him, and dark, feathered wings spanned to his sides.
The sun was low on the horizon, and Harry realised he was in the Pembrey Woods. It was where he had told Omen to stay in the meantime. Due to their front-page picture in the newspaper, it would be suspicious to wander around with a raven. It did not matter whether he had his disguise or not.
Then, cutting off his thoughts, he was back at his Mind Palace, the vision gone. Back in Carmarthenshire, Omen also came back to himself, eyes no longer white, back to their natural, inky black colour.
"Wicked."
ความคิดของผู้สร้าง 
3raven
3raven Harry's Mind Palace might have an eldritch-esque style to it in the future. Also, the patre*on page is up, if you want to support the story or read 5 chapters ahead.
But I won't disclose the page's name until the end of this month, as it bills as soon as you join and then at the start of every month.
That's all folks, stay safe.
สถานะพลังงานรายสัปดาห์
-- การจัดอันดับด้วยพลัง 
-- หินพลัง