Chương 30: Ritual preparation and Realization
*Sunday 2 February 1992*
*Morning*
I have come to the decision that I will do a major ritual every year on my birthday.
The entire process is separate into 7 major rituals, and either 7 or 11 minor ones, depending on the desired effects and quality of ingredients.
Why those numbers? Arithimancy.
The number of permutations I have had to make is sitting on my desk right now.
Roughly 81 calculations/permutations, just to determine the number of rituals, the date, and order. Then another shit-ton of math to determine the best ingredients for each ritual. And just to make sure my engineering degree wasn't a complete waste, another set of calculations to determine the number of minor rituals and their particulars.
All in all, I filled out 4761 pages with magical math.
Why did I do this?
1. I have access to The Chamber of Secrets. The knowledge inside is incredibly unhelpful for someone looking for a handout.
There are however, numerous guides and journals to help and guide one on their journey of self improvement.
2. Third year arithimancy was basic algebra. Hermione was so pissed at the fact that she was repeatedly being harassed by her house during exam time, that she went and made her own spells to destroy large areas of land. Or truly eradicate one pesky enemy.
No they weren't a variation of the unforgivable curses.
Yes, you can block them.
Yes, you'll wish you were never born.
She didn't even have to use the higher level courses to do so.
3. I was bored out of my fucking mind.
I have also decided to take Lord Murphy, Susan Bones and Hermione with me on my exchange to other schools. Provided they can complete the ICW standard exams for first years.
Hermione, well because it's my job to guard her. Lord Murphy will obviously be coming along.
Susan, well, she will be family and it's best not to ignore family. Personally I think getting out of Britain will do her some good. She's coming out of her shell as time goes on, but I think she needs a shock to her system.
Also I didn't want rumours going around about me and Hermione. It's not like I don't like her. But it's better if you don't mess the the embodiment of the primordial abyss. I would love to fuck up the ones who start the rumours. But Hermione and Lord Murphy won't leave enough of them to scrape into a matchbox.
These two are the ones I'm willing to accommodate. Others, if they want to join their friend(s), have to make their own arrangements.
Also, it's a slap in the face of the Ministry and Hogwarts administration, that I had to fund the entire transfer and travel myself.
Of course news got out. Of course I stated 'I didn't know we had an exchange program', and obviously the media blew it out of proportion. Well, as out of proportion as they were allowed to. The name Potter does command respect, but the name Black, commands fear. I need that for my house. For too long we have been relegated to the enchanters, healers and potioneers. It's time the wizarding world learns not fuck around with House Potter.
Edgelord villain monologue over, it's time to get a snack and study a bit of charms and enchanting.
*Evening*
I am an idiot.
Certified grade A dumbass.
I keep harping on about how Riddle is a cunt and he's limited his power to a 7/10 on my arbitrary scale.
Guess what?
I'm a 2 on my self made power-scale. A fucking 2!
As he is right now, possessing Quirrel, he's at 3.5-4. Honestly at this point fuck magic. I'm going to default to my spec-ops training and fall back to magic in case of emergencies. Until I am confident that I can outclass everything in a 1 kilometre radius with magic alone.
I have to pick up the pace with my calisthenics. A few potions and body ritual later, I should be able to add weight training to my workouts.
I hate the lean build. It feels weak. I usually leaned out on deployments, simply due to the stress, adrenaline and inconsistent schedule, that comes with being in an active war zone. But I leaned out over a few months. I was a fairly tall bloke, and built like a rock. I liked being muscular. The gym bros would ask me about my gains. The women, were easier to hit on. And the cunts who wanted to start shit, didn't.
It's the Look Cool Factor. LCF for short. People are less likely to fuck with things, if there is a perceived danger/threat.
You might be the kindest person in the world, but if you're jacked, no one is going to fuck with you. A cold blooded killer, might just get shot and robbed because he looked like an easy mark.
Also I hate being a scrawny little fuck.
*Tuesday 4 February 1992*
I need to get my hands on:
Dragon heart - Hebridean Black
Basilisk eye
Wampus cat eye
Dragon hide - Hebridean Black - will be substituted with Basilisk hide
The skull and spine of a Sphinx - In one piece, with the brain and nerves still attached, has to be absolutely perfect. Better to kill it the day before the ritual. I have an inventory so that's not an issue.
Tears on a Phoenix, willingly given- bribe Fawkes with chocolate or something, get my own phoenix if possible.
Hind legs of any creature you want, Wampus Cat legs are ideal, but dragon legs will work in a pinch.
Flesh, about 3 times the body weight at the time of casting. The basilisk corpse is coming in real handy right about now.
The priority is to get phoenix tears. They are exorbitantly expensive. People will know I bought some, and there is no guarantee that the tears are willingly given.
"Fawkes!" I called out into the Hufflepuff common room. Getting looks of surprise, annoyance and irritation from the others there with me.
A few minutes of nothing happening, I looked around and shrugged. It was worth a shot.
Looks like I need to get my own phoenix. Maybe I can ask Dumbledore is I can play with Fawkes? I don't know, I'll worry about that later, right now I have to get to the potions class with Snape.
I hate that cunt.
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