Written in the Stars - The Changes Within
The Changes Within
Daphne sighed contentedly as they broke apart, offering Harry a grin as they did so.
“What happens now?”
It was the question they had both avoided asking as they day drew nearer that Harry was leaving drew nearer, but with the moment Harry was readying to board the ship back to Durmstrang having arrived, it could no longer be ignored.
Daphne released a deep sigh.
“Does anything have to happen?” she returned. “You’ll be at Durmstrang for the next few years, and I’ll be here. Anything could happen in that time.”
Harry nodded his agreement.
“I’d like to write to you.”
“And I would be offended if you didn’t,” Daphne replied with a grin, “but let’s not make any promises about the future. If by some will of fate we are supposed to be together, it will happen.”
“Do you believe in that?”
Daphne shrugged.
“Maybe,” she said thoughtfully. “Even if there is no such thing, I do believe in magic, and if magic wishes for it to happen, it will find a way.”
Harry liked her analogy, and despite the rather maudlin moment they were sharing, he smiled.
“Then we leave it up to fate,” he declared.
“To fate,” Daphne echoed, placing a kiss on his cheek only for the two of them to be interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.
“I would appreciate it if you could unhand Miss Greengrass, Mr Potter,” Professor Snape cut in irritably. “Should you not be making your way to the ship?”
Harry nodded.
The man had not spoken a word to him since their rather one-sided conversation in his office when Lord Greengrass had accosted Harry.
Not that Harry was displeased by the silence.
He had such little respect for what the man had done during the war and how his actions had led to the death of his parents.
“You will join your housemates, Miss Greengrass,” Snape instructed. “I will ensure Potter is not distracted on his way to the ship.”
Daphne gave Harry’s hand a final squeeze and she smiled before doing as she was bid.
“I suppose you quite enjoyed that,” Harry snorted as Snape escorted Harry towards the lake. “My father got the girl you wanted, so you felt compelled to interfere in the affairs of their son. Bravo! Your pettiness has reached new heights.”
Snape’s lip curled in distaste as he shot a glance at Harry.
“I merely wish to see the back of you as soon as possible,” the man responded, eliciting a chuckle from Harry who stopped walking.
“Oh, I’ll be back, Snape, have no fear about that,” he vowed. “After the other night, you know as well as I do that he is still out there and that he will return. What will you do then? Will you run to your master, lick his boot as you once did and prostrate yourself before him like a loyal lapdog?”
It had not passed Harry’s notice that Snape and Karkaroff had both reacted to the disturbance he had felt during the third task.
He hadn’t known why he had suddenly experienced a rush of euphoric magic, but it didn’t take much deduction to realise that Voldemort was involved.
Still, having checked the map to ensure nothing was amiss within the school, he knew there was little that could be done.
Not until the Dark Lord surfaced once more.
Snape’s eyes narrowed.
“I will do what is necessary.”
“As will I,” Harry assured the man as he stepped towards him. “Do not get in my way. Believe me, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to tear you limb from limb for what you did. The only reason you are breathing is because you deserve to live such a miserable life for your part in their deaths, and I would see you suffer for many more years yet. Do be careful, Snape. I would not want to see you given a reprieve so soon. I can find my own way to the ship,” Harry added in disgust. “Anything to be out of your company.”
He left the glaring Snape standing where he was as he continued on his way, his fingers trailing under his shirt to find the scar on his chest.
It had been a confusing few days for Harry who had spent much of it pondering what had transpired in the chamber.
His preparations had indeed been sound, and though it humbled and pained him to admit it, he had simply bitten off more than he could chew.
Why he believed he could tame a basilisk, let alone defeat one was something he could not comprehend now that he had experienced what he had.
Harry had no doubt that he had died, that he only breathed now because of the combined efforts of Fawkes and the thunderbird.
It had been a reckless and foolish endeavour, one that he was so very fortunate to have survived.
Still, he was taking no chances and planned on visiting a healer when he returned home.
For the most part, he felt as he always had, but there was something undeniably different about him.
Perhaps it was the slight coldness that seemed to stay with him, or it was possibly the tingle to his magic he could feel as it pulsed throughout his body.
Maybe it was that, at times, he struggled to feel his own heart beating even when he felt for it?
He couldn’t be certain and needed to know that he was indeed truly living, and not merely being sustained by a magic he could not hope to understand.
Nonetheless, Harry had taken away many lessons from the night of the third task.
Despite what many who knew his story believed, he was not invincible and he was still prone to making foolish errors as any teenager did, but he could not risk doing so.
He could not be a typical teenager, nor could he afford to make such mistakes.
There were too many things that he wished to do before his time was up, and though he had oddly accepted his fate when it seemed that all was lost, he was not ready to die.
If it happened when he was facing Voldemort, he could accept that, but it was not the end he sought.
No, he had indeed been foolish, too sure of himself and what he was capable of, and it had cost him his life.
It was a lesson he wouldn’t forget, nor would he forget those that had come to his rescue when he had needed it most.
Where the thunderbird had come from, Harry couldn’t even begin to fathom, but there would not be a day that passed that he did not appreciate what the creature had done for him.
Perhaps he would be fortunate enough to see it again one day, but if not, it would always have his gratitude.
Regarding the chamber, he wasn’t sure what he would do.
If Harry was honest with himself, the thought of returning there filled him with trepidation, but maybe one day he would.
It was not a decision he would make now, but he took comfort in knowing that, at the very least, the basilisk was no longer a threat to any.
“Come along, Potter, we are waiting for you,” Karkaroff grumbled as he made his way onto the ship.
Harry said nothing as he made his way towards his room where Viktor was waiting for him. His thoughts were still very much occupied by what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets.
It was an experience he would never forget, but something he had equally learned much from.
(Break)
It had been a strange year, one mixed with highs and lows, and though Pansy was pleased to be leaving Hogwarts for the summer, she knew that she would miss Harry more than ever having had him with her every day for so long.
Daphne too was feeling the sting of his departure, even if she wouldn’t admit it.
Thus far, she had spent the journey to London on the Hogwarts Express staring out of the window, a sad smile tugging at her lips as she undoubtedly reminisced about their time together.
“Cheer up, Daph,” Tracey sighed. “It’s not like you won’t see him again.”
“Who?” Daphne replied.
Tracey quirked an eyebrow at her friend and the blonde deflated.
“I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him,” she admitted.
None of the others had ever seen Daphne like this.
Since first year when Draco had declared his intentions to eventually marry her, the girl had done all she could to be aloof towards the opposite sex.
Not that any had attempted to even ask her on a date.
The fear of Draco’s retaliation deterred them from that.
“Did you break things off?” Pansy asked curiously.
Daphne shrugged.
“I suppose we did in a way.”
“In a way?” Tracey pressed.
“We agreed that if we ended up together, it would happen in the future, but we wouldn’t make any promises.”
Although Pansy felt a wave of sympathy for her friend, there was a part of her that cheered internally.
She wanted both Daphne and Harry to be happy, but she could not deny that she was jealous of them.
Were it not for Draco being his usual self, it would have been Pansy attending the ball with Harry and things could have been different.
She allowed herself a moment to ponder what might have been before they were interrupted by the door sliding open and Draco entered with Crabbe, Goyle, and Theo in tow.
“Missing your boyfriend already?” Malfoy snarked.
“I am missing the feel of his lips,” Daphne replied thoughtfully.
Draco’s eyes narrowed in response.
“Well, Potter won’t be here anymore,” he pointed out. “Maybe now you will all remember your place.”
“Our place?” Daphne asked curiously.
Draco nodded, an arrogant smirk forming.
“Without Potter’s interference, things will go back to how they were,” he answered brightly.
“You mean with you being a prat and lording your father’s reputation over everyone?”
Draco’s smile fell as his nostrils flared.
“You’d better watch it, Greengrass,” he hissed. “Your father would not wish to find himself in a position where mine is displeased with him.”
Daphne snorted.
“There is not a thing on this planet that will make me marry you, Draco,” she said sweetly. “I said the very same thing to my father. He knows that I would sooner bring shame on my family name than be lumbered with the Malfoy one.”
Draco seemed to be unfazed by Daphne’s words as he shrugged.
“Perhaps you are not the Greengrass I intend to pursue,” he returned dismissively. “I’m sure Astoria would relish being the next Lady of both the Malfoy and Black families.”
Daphne’s jaw tightened at the mention of her sister.
“You will stay away from Astoria,” she warned.
“Oh, I will,” Draco chuckled, “but I can’t promise she will stay away from me. You may not be willing to play your part with me, but for your father to refuse to even discuss the matter of your sister would reflect very poorly on him. Don’t you think?”
“I will kill you before I allow that to happen!” Daphne vowed as she stood.
Pansy flinched as Draco slapped her.
“You dare threaten me?” he spat.
Daphne glared at him defiantly.
“Maybe my sister should be the next Lord Malfoy,” she chuckled darkly. “She certainly hits harder than you.”
Draco raised his hand to strike her again, only to frown as another took hold of his wrist.
“It is very unbecoming for a boy to physically attack a female,” Blaise warned before releasing Draco.
It was not like him to involve himself in any matter, so all of the occupants were taken aback by his intervention.
“She insulted me!” Draco seethed.
“And now I am telling you that if you strike her again, I will be forced to retaliate on her behalf,” Blaise replied calmly. “Do you really want that, Draco?”
For the first time since he and the others had intruded upon them, Malfoy did not seem so certain, but he was saved from answering by Blaise who spoke once more.
“Allow me to explain a few things to you,” he sighed. “You seem to be under the impression that Potter’s influence no longer matters. Why is that, Draco?”
“He is not here anymore, is he?” Draco pointed out.
“True,” Blaise conceded, “but he will be back in only a few years when he takes his seat on the Wizengamot. What do you think the reaction to that will be? I will tell you. Many will clamour to Potter simply because of what happened between him and the Dark Lord, and when he proves himself as ruthless as he did when he arrived at Hogwarts, even more will do so.”
“My father will not allow it!”
Blaise hummed thoughtfully.
“Potter may not have as much money as your family, but he has something else that yours lacks.”
“What?” Draco asked in disbelief.
“Magical prowess,” Blaise answered simply. “From everything I have heard about and seen of him, I would bet, when he returns, just about anything that he would mop the floor with your father and any of the idiots who would dare use violence against him. What then, Draco? What happens when the great Lucius Malfoy comes up against a man he cannot intimidate, cannot blackmail, and cannot defeat?”
Draco seemed to ponder what Blaise had said, a flash of worry crossing his features before he shook his head.
“That will not happen,” he declared and Blaise sighed disappointedly. “I will also be the Lord Black.”
“A name,” Blaise murmured, “one that means nothing without the reputation of a powerful lord nor the magic to back it up. Have you even learned the family magic? Do you have a reputation as a ruthless, powerful lord that will stop at nothing to achieve what he desires? No, you do not. The Black name no longer carries the reputation it once had, not without a true Black to use it!”
“My mother was a Black!” Draco snapped.
“Was,” Blaise replied firmly, “and so far out of the line of succession that the fact you will inherit the title is nothing short of a miracle. The family destroyed itself, and your mother carries the Malfoy name. You were raised as a Malfoy by your father. It will be a token title for you. Admittedly, it will give you considerably more gold than any other family in Britain, but that is all. Without the magic and reputation, you will never be seen as the Lord Black.”
Draco swallowed deeply at the sting of the words.
They had all thought exactly what Blaise had said, but none had dared voice it to Draco.
“Face it, Draco. When Potter returns to claim his family seat, things will change, and when people see him for the man I believe he will be, there won’t be a thing you or your father can do to him. So, do you wish to continue to harass those that he consider friends? I would think very carefully about how you comport yourself from now on. I would have thought your father would have taught you better.”
Draco said nothing but chose to storm from the compartment with Crabbe and Goyle in tow instead.
Theo hesitated for a moment before following and Blaise took a seat, removing the sweets he had bought from the lady with the trolley.
“Bertie Bott’s, anyone?” he asked.
Pansy accepted one of the beans, grimacing at the taste of earwax as she simply stared at the boy.
“Do you really believe all of that?”
Blaise nodded resolutely.
“I do,” he confirmed. “My sister would not speak so highly of someone who was not so impressive, not after being taught how to duel and politicise by my mother. Potter will change things here. Mark my words.”
Pansy could only share a look with an equally thoughtful Daphne.
She had always believed Harry’s claims that he would one day change the world, but now that others seemed to be seeing it for themselves, it only felt more real to her.
(Break)
It was not merely the fact that Harry seemed to be having a nightmare that kept Viktor awake. He hadn’t been sleeping well since the tournament concluded several days prior.
His time at Durmstrang was now at an end, and though he knew he had a Quidditch career ahead of him, the thought that he had nothing else to keep him occupied left him feeling rather unsettled.
School had been his escape from the public eye, his safe haven from the journalists and fans that would forever be stopping him on the street to get his autograph or shower him with praise. Without it, he didn’t know what he would do.
Viktor shook his head sadly as Harry choked in his sleep before he stopped breathing altogether.
He watched worriedly for almost a minute before the concern became too much and he carefully shook the boy awake.
Harry gasped as he sat up, his expression one of panic as he clutched his chest, taking deep, laboured breaths.
“Are you okay?”
Harry nodded as he reached for his goblet of water and drained it.
“I’m fine,” he said dismissively. “Bad dreams are nothing new for me.”
Viktor frowned.
“How often do you have them?”
“Almost every night.”
“Are they always the same?”
Harry shook his head as he rubbed his chest absentmindedly.
“They used to be,” he answered cryptically. “Why are you awake?”
Viktor deflated.
“I just can’t sleep.”
“Come off it, Viktor,” Harry sighed. “I think I know you well enough to see that something’s bothering you.”
Viktor chuckled.
“That’s true,” he conceded. “I don’t know. Do you ever just feel like things aren’t how you imagined they would be?”
“How did you imagine things would be now?”
Viktor shrugged.
“Before Quidditch, I thought I would get a job with my father at the Bulgarian ministry,” he explained. “I didn’t expect I would turn professional so soon.”
“But you did,” Harry pointed out. “Is it not what you want anymore?”
“It is,” Viktor clarified, “but what comes after? Even if I play for the next twenty or thirty years, I won’t be old, and I can’t imagine retiring and being idle.”
“Then find something else to work towards for when you finish playing,” Harry suggested.
“Like what?”
“That’s up to you to decide,” Harry answered. “If I was in your position, I would want to make sure I have options. For you, the possibilities are endless. If you wanted to stay in the Quidditch profession, you could become a coach, or you could create an academy for young players. You could even form your own team.”
Viktor nodded thoughtfully.
All three seemed to be plausible paths for him to follow.
“What if I don’t want that?”
“Bloody hell, is this career day?” Harry grumbled amusedly. “I don’t know, Viktor. You could become an auror, or even the Bulgarian minister if you wanted to.”
“Maybe,” Viktor chuckled. “What would you do?”
Harry released a deep breath.
“Well, if it was me, I wouldn’t solely rely on Quidditch. It can take only one injury to end a career, and you know as well as I do that they come regularly. If it was me, I would make sure I was prepared for that. I know for a fact that you don’t need to do anything for the gold, so find something you would enjoy.”
“I was thinking I might do my exams,” Viktor revealed. “I know I was exempt from them for the tournament, but it feels like everything I’ve worked for at Durmstrang means nothing now without them.”
“Then use that as a starting point,” Harry suggested. “Focus on getting your exams done and find something else away from Quidditch you can either fall back on or dedicate yourself to when you’ve finished playing.”
Viktor nodded, a grateful smile cresting his lips.
“Thanks, Harry,” he offered sincerely. “Life away from Durmstrang will be strange.”
“It will be strange without you there,” Harry replied. “For just about all of my time at school, I’ve spent hours every week assisting you.”
“What will you do with all that free time?” Viktor asked curiously.
“I always have things to do,” Harry said dismissively, “but I will miss training with you.”
“There is nothing stopping us meeting up occasionally for a duel,” Viktor pointed out.
Harry chuckled.
“I’d like that.”
Viktor clapped him smartly on the shoulder.
“I’ll miss you, Harry,” he murmured. “Even if you are an annoying little shit.”
Harry laughed heartily, only to frown as a knock on the door sounded and Olaffson poked his head into the room.
“We will be arriving in fifteen minutes,” he announced.
“It’s four in the morning,” Harry pointed out as he checked his watch.
“We are almost sixteen hours late,” Olafsson explained. “We were held up by the storm.”
Without another word, the man slammed the door and Harry deflated.
“What’s wrong?” Viktor questioned.
“If we are as late as he said, the others will have gone home already.”
“You were hoping to see your friends.”
Harry nodded sadly before shaking his head.
“It doesn’t matter. The summer always passes quickly enough.”
“Sorry.”
Viktor felt terrible for the younger boy.
If it wasn’t for him, Harry wouldn’t have spent an entire year away from his friends.
Still, he did not believe for one second that he wouldn’t have come along if he didn’t want to.
From the moment he had met Harry Potter, there was no one who could force him into anything, not even when Viktor became known across the wizarding world did Harry change towards him.
He still cursed Viktor out, was often churlish and uncooperative, but Viktor wouldn’t have had him any other way.
Despite the fact that there would be no more Durmstrang, Viktor had no doubt that his and Harry’s friendship would remain as strong as it was now and would only grow more so over the coming years.
(Break)
The ship had not come.
The delegation that had gone to Hogwarts had been due to arrive the same day that term ended at Durmstrang, but it had not, and Lucinda had no other choice than to leave with her mother who had come to collect her.
“What is wrong, child?”
“Nothing. I just didn’t get to see Harry before we left.”
Her mother offered her a rare a look of sympathy as she placed an arm around her shoulder.
“He has come to mean much to you, hasn’t he?”
Lucinda could only nod in response and her mother sighed.
“I warned you.”
“You did,” Lucinda conceded, “but there is just something about him.”
“Do you hunger for him?”
If it were possible, Lucinda knew she would be blushing.
“Not for his blood, no,” she replied, licking her lips at the thought of Harry surrendering to her.
She frowned deeply.
No, she did not wish to feed on him, not unless he truly wanted that.
“You are fond of him,” her mother said knowingly. “I do not know what is worse.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I do not wish to see you suffer, Lucinda. To be fond of a human in such a way will only cause you pain.”
“What if I am willing to endure what is to come, so long as I can have him for whatever life he will live?”
Her mother chuckled amusedly.
“Is he truly so special?”
Lucinda nodded resolutely.
“You have met him, mother. You saw how he treated others that are not of his kind.”
“Is that all you care for?”
Lucinda shook her head.
“No,” she denied. “I care for him for everything he is.”
Her mother met her gaze before wrapping her other arm around and pulling Lucinda into a tight embrace.
“You do know that it cannot be.”
“I do, but I still wish to have him in my life, in any way I can.”
“And you can cope seeing him live his own; marriage, children, and eventually his demise?”
Lucinda nodded.
She knew that to most that it would perhaps sound pathetic, but living such a cold existence, one learned to embrace and hold on to whatever warmth they could find.
Lucinda had found that in Harry, and as simple as it may seem to humans and other creatures, to a vampire, it was as invaluable as it was rare.
They were not known for feeling affection, or even fondness towards one another, let alone one outside of their species.
Lucinda knew she was fortunate to have it, something she would likely never find again in another.
“I almost lost my composure when I saw that he was dating another girl, a pretty blonde at Hogwarts,” she admitted.
“You must not allow that to happen,” her mother warned. “You must not allow the humans to see that side of you.”
“I know, and I won’t,” Lucinda said firmly. “I understand that I cannot have what it is I want, but I can have something of it, can I not?”
“So long as you understand,” her mother whispered. “I would sooner spare you from the pain that is to come, but you must make your own choices in life, Lucinda. If this is truly what you want, then I will not speak out against it. If it brings you a semblance of happiness, then you should perhaps grasp it with both hands. There is often little joy in being one of us.”
“I know,” Lucinda murmured, “but just being around him makes me happy. What I have now will just have to be enough.”
She was pulled from her thoughts by a knock at the door, and both of her parents entered her bedroom.
This was never a good thing, and Lucinda braced herself for the worst.
“This just arrived for you,” her mother explained, handing a letter to her.
The familiar scrawl across the front warmed her instantly, and she tore the envelope open, the faint scent of Harry bringing a smile to her lips as a small package fell into her lap.
Princess,
I am sorry that we did not return in time.
I will make it up to you in any way I can.
Stay safe,
Harry x
PS: I have sent another package of Blood Pops for you to last the summer. Maybe now you will not have the urge to sink your fangs into me when you see me.
Lucinda snorted amusedly at the letter and tapped the package with her wand.
“He gives you Blood Pops?” her mother asked as it opened.
Lucinda nodded as she opened one and placed it into her mouth.
“He made sure I had one for every day that he was away,” she explained, “and he’s just sent enough to see me through the summer.”
Her father raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“He did that for you?”
“He did.”
Her father was taken aback by the gesture.
Humans rarely showed any kindness to their kind, something her parents had learned when they were changed.
“Well, he certainly is an interesting boy.”
“That he is,” her mother agreed, “which is why we have spoken to Draikon.”
Lucinda’s stomach filled with dread.
He was the leader of their clan; a ruthless and vicious vampire that wished for nothing else than a return to their old ways of hunting humans rather than accepting donated blood for them to feed on.
“Why?”
Her mother offered Lucinda a reassuring smile.
“He has granted permission for Harry to visit you here, so long as he agrees to come in peace.”
“Just like that?” Lucinda pressed. “He agreed to a human visiting if they promised to come in peace?”
Her mother appeared uneasy by the questioning, so it was her father that spoke next.
“Draikon wishes to meet him,” he sighed. “He has heard of the boy that survived the impossible and is curious about him. We have all been invited to dine with him, should Harry accept the invitation.”
“What if he attacks, Harry?” Lucinda asked worriedly.
Her father shook her head.
“He would not do such a thing. How do you think the wizarding world would react if any harm was to come to the boy whilst he was with us? We would be slaughtered, and Draikon is not foolish to think otherwise. He is genuine in his desire to meet the boy.”
Her father was right, but Lucinda did not like the thought of Harry being here.
There were so many of her kind, many who despised humans.
They wouldn’t act on any impulse if commanded by Draikon, but that did little to assuage her concerns.
Still, it wasn’t like she truly had a choice in the matter.
It would be expected that she extend the invitation to Harry, and she knew for a fact that the boy was brazen enough to accept it.
If anything, the thought of meeting so many vampires at once would excite him.
“I will write to him,” she sighed, torn on whether or not she wanted him to accept.
On the one hand, she would see him again before the beginning of the school year, but on the other, it would be within the environment she had grown up in; a dangerous and quite unpleasant place for any to be, let alone a human so used to warmth and comfort.
(Break)
It was not often that Harry felt himself compelled to visit a healer. There had been the time where he had beaten Viktor to the Snitch and had the two of them had to be put back together, and his visits to the very hospital he found himself in now for his immunisations when he was a small child.
Other than those times, he had managed to avoid finding himself needing medical care.
Since the incident in the chamber, however, something was different within him, and for the first time in his life, he needed the opinion of a professional.
He hadn’t told Cassie that he was coming and hadn’t even mentioned what had transpired.
How could explain that he had been so foolish, getting himself killed by a basilisk and yet had somehow been brought to life?
The story was a fantastical one, and something he would struggle to believe if it hadn’t happened to him.
“How very curious,” the healer muttered to himself as he studied a sample of Harry’s blood through his thick spectacles.
Healer Galanis was the man that had given Harry his various immunisations when he’d been just a boy, an old man who must have seen just about every magical ailment throughout his lengthy career.
“Curious?” Harry probed.
Galanis removed his glasses and peered at Harry questioningly before turning his attention back to the blood.
“It is clean,” he declared. “Too clean. Your blood seems to have been rather violently purged, Mr Potter. There is no sign of any of the inoculations I administered to you. I have never seen anything like it. Even the…”
The healer paused and shook his head, seemingly catching himself before saying something he evidently shouldn’t.
“Even the what?” Harry pressed.
Galanis released a deep sigh.
“You’re no longer such a small child,” he mused aloud. “When you were first brought to me before your second birthday, I was instructed to carry out a full medical assessment. During that assessment, I found a rather strange anomaly in your blood.”
“An anomaly?”
Galanis nodded.
“It was a protection that I suspect was bestowed upon you by your mother,” he explained. “Old magic, very old indeed. It was sacrificial in nature; the power of a mother’s love to protect her baby from a powerful foe.”
Harry frowned confusedly.
“Voldemort,” he whispered.
Galanis nodded once more.
“The magic was rather exceptional, and worked as intended, as evidenced by your surviving your encounter with him.”
“My mother cast the magic?”
“It is difficult to ascertain the origin,” Galanis murmured. “Regardless of whether it was intentionally done is neither here nor there, Mr Potter. The fact is the magic served its purpose and was very prominent within your blood. It is no longer present. Whatever happened to cleanse your blood has removed that protection. Now, if you could explain to me what happened, I may be able to offer you something more substantial.”
Harry was reluctant to do so, but he wanted answers.
“Nothing we discuss will go further than between us?” he asked cautiously.
Galanis chuckled.
“I am compelled by my oaths to mention nothing you do not wish to be disclosed,” he explained.
Harry released a deep breath as he nodded.
“I died.”
“You died? Might I enquire as to the nature of your death and the fact that you are here with me now?”
Harry released a deep breath and chuckled.
“I’m not sure you would believe me.”
Galanis quirked an eyebrow in Harry’s direction.
“Well, if we are to understand what has happened to you, I must be made aware of the truth regardless of how unbelievable it is.”
Harry nodded his understanding.
“I was bitten by a basilisk,” he revealed. “I felt the life drain out of me from the wound and the venom. A phoenix attempted to heal me with its tears, but that wasn’t enough to save me. When I woke up, a thunderbird was there. I believe it struck me with lightning and brought me back.”
Galanis simply gaped at Harry, his mouth having fallen open dumbly.
It took a moment for the man to compose himself, and when he did, he cursed in his native tongue.
“You are certain of this?”
Harry nodded and the man shook his head.
“I have never heard anything like it,” Galanis muttered, “but I believe we can go some way to explaining what is happening with you. I will need to conduct a full examination. Where is the wound?”
Swallowing deeply, Harry removed his shirt.
There was no need to point to the puckered scar in the centre of his chest with how prominent it was, and Galanis leaned forward, brushing his fingers over the skin in fascination.
“It penetrated your heart,” he deduced.
“It did.”
Galanis whistled appreciatively.
“I cannot even begin to tell you how fortunate you are to be alive.”
“I wouldn’t be without the phoenix and thunderbird.”
Galanis nodded his agreement.
“The latter has left its mark on you,” he mused aloud, pointing to the lightning bolt in the centre of the scar. “Now, that is very interesting.”
“What is?” Harry asked worriedly.
Galanis peered at him as he leaned back.
“Let us ascertain what facts we have thus far,” he suggested. “From there, we can delve further into things.”
“Okay,” Harry agreed.
“Point one, you were bitten by a basilisk which resulted in your death. It is quite possible that the venom is responsible for the removal of the protection in your blood.”
“So, it could be something else?”
“Indeed,” Galanis acknowledged. “However, it could also be the result of the tears of the phoenix. They are among the most powerful creatures in existence, and their magic is pure. It is possible that the tears used to heal also removed that magic. The tears of a phoenix are not prejudice when it comes to healing. They will cleanse any and all magic that is not as pure as their own. Sacrificial magic is not so pure, so it is quite possible the phoenix tears purged you of it.”
Harry hummed thoughtfully.
“Then there is the thunderbird,” Galanis continued. “Again, another powerful creature. When you were struck by its lightning, it is not so easy to dismiss the notion that the magic used to bring you back to life purged your blood of the venom and the tears, hence the mark it has left you with. Thunderbirds are equally as rare and powerful in their own right.”
“What theory do you believe?” Harry asked.
Galanis shrugged.
“I can only speculate,” he offered apologetically, “and I would be lying if I gave more credence to any one of my thoughts over the others. I’m afraid it is all but impossible to say for certain what caused the purging of your blood. It may have been one, a combination of two, or even all three separate elements.”
“Oh,” Harry replied disappointedly.
“But the matter of your blood is not what fascinates me most in this situation, Mr Potter. It is what happened to you overall.”
“What did happen?”
“I believe, that unwittingly of course, you underwent a rather significant ritual, one of death and rebirth with the assistance of three exceedingly powerful components.”
“A ritual?”
Galanis nodded excitedly.
“If you can spare me a little more of your time, I would like to run some tests, and perhaps then I will have more answers for you.”
Harry nodded his agreement.
“Do what you need to,” he sighed.
“I will not need any more of your blood,” the healer assured him, “but I will require a sample of your magic, and I would like to look you over entirely to ascertain any physical changes you may not be aware of. We will begin with the latter. If you could stand for me, Mr Potter.”
Harry did so, and over the next hour, he was subjected to the most rigorous medical examination likely ever conduct before Galanis seemed to be satisfied.
“Well, I must say, you are a rather interesting specimen,” he declared in shock.
“What does that mean?” Harry sighed.
“It means that it seems as though your body has been, for lack of a better term, born again. I can find nothing physically wrong with you, and your organs are incredibly resilient to any and all type of stimulus. I can categorically state, Mr Potter, that I have never seen such a healthy, strong body.”
“So, that is a good thing?”
Galanis nodded.
“It is, but I would like to monitor you regularly to see if anything changes.”
“And if it does?”
“I think you are misunderstanding me, Mr Potter,” the healer chuckled. “I would like to monitor you to see if you maintain this level of resilience. If it remains to be a lasting effect over the next decade or so, then we can discuss what it could mean. Until then, think nothing of it and be assured in the knowledge that you are strong, healthy, and thriving. Now, allow me to examine your magic. This, I am very curious about.”
Harry frowned as the man fetched an odd-looking instrument in the shape of a pyramid and placed it next to him on the examination table.
“Please, just rest your hand here,” Galanis instructed, pointing to one of the sides. “The device will do the rest.”
Harry did so, and it felt as though his hand had been glued to the surface.
“Do not panic, Mr Potter,” Galanis urged. “It will release you when I am done.”
Harry could only nod and looked on in fascination as puffs of smoke of various colours and shapes were expelled from the tip of the pyramid.
Galanis said nothing for several moments as he took notes, humming interestedly as he did so, and his expression shifted through many emotions before he finally tapped the machine with his wand.
After spending the next the dozen or so minutes reading through his notes, he shook his head and removed his glasses once more.
“This explains so much but also raises more questions,” he sighed. “Your magic is exceptional, Mr Potter.”
“You have seen nothing like it?” Harry snorted.
“I have not,” Galanis confirmed severely. “If I had any doubt of the truth of the tale of your death, I would no longer disbelieve you. The magic of all three creatures is within your own for me to see. It is rather fascinating.”
“What does that mean?”
Galanis frowned uncertainly.
“Again, I may only be able to offer you speculation, but I can say with confidence that there is nothing for you to worry about. The foreign magicks are not causing you harm. On the contrary, they seem to be working harmoniously with your own.”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
“I do have questions, however, Mr Potter,” Galanis spoke once more. “Do not feel compelled to answer me, but I believe it would be in your best interest to be honest.”
“Honest with what?”
“Are you a parselmouth?”
Harry merely nodded in response and Galanis hummed.
“I suppose that would explain why the magic of the basilisk is content in being with your own without attacking it,” he mused aloud.
“How did you know I was a parselmouth?”
“The device told me,” Galanis chuckled. “I just wished to see how forthcoming you would be if asked. If we are to monitor you moving forward, I expect openness between us, Mr Potter.”
“And you will have it so long as it remains confidential.”
Galanis nodded.
“I can assure you; my word is my bond as are the vows I took upon becoming a healer.”
“Thank you,” Harry said appreciatively. “Does that mean the thunderbird magic works well with mine because I have an affinity for a magic similar to its own?”
Galanis smiled as he nodded.
“I suspect that would explain it,” he confirmed. “The phoenix, however, I am rather stumped. I can only imagine that its administering of tears to heal you forged a bond of sorts. It helped save your life, so it would be a natural assumption to make.”
Harry could only shrug.
In truth, he understood only the basics of what was being told to him.
“What effect will this have on my magic?” he asked worriedly.
“Nothing detrimental,” Galanis assured him. “You were already a parselmouth before the introduction of the basilisk magic and had an affinity for lightning before the thunderbird struck. I expect that if anything, the presence of their magic will only strengthen what similarity you already shared with them.”
“What of the phoenix?”
Galanis leaned forward in his chair and pondered his answer before speaking.
“For the most part, I believe it will impact your use of magic very little,” he mused aloud. “You do not have an affinity for fire, so it will do nothing. But,” he continued firmly, “I do believe it is impacting your body. The presence of the phoenix magic could explain your physical health and resilience. It could also mean that you are less likely to become sick and heal quicker from injuries. We cannot be sure without the further monitoring I mentioned.”
“Do you believe that is what it is?”
Galanis nodded.
“I truly do,” he answered.
Harry frowned as a pertinent question surfaced.
“How was my blood purged during what happened, but not my magic?”
Galanis grinned at the question.
“Because magic cannot simply be purged,” he chuckled. “If it could, magical maladies and diseases would not exist. If all it took was a simple purging, my services would no longer be required.”
“So, magic cannot be purged?”
“It cannot,” Galanis confirmed. “It can fight off what it deems to be dangerous to its host, and it can also absorb foreign influences that it believes will strengthen it. You yourself being a rather exquisite example of that. Which brings me on to another observation I have made. Can you explain why there is a foreign influx of magic within you that your body seems to be feeding off?”
Harry could only frown in confusion as Galanis waited for an answer, one that Harry did not have readily.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Galanis’s eyebrows almost vanished into his hairline at Harry’s lack of knowledge on the matter.
“Well, it appears as though we have another curiosity to solve, doesn’t it, Mr Potter?”