Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

Chapter 4 - Temptation's Call

Vernon Dursley's countless chins and bellies wobbled wildly, punctuating the fat man's irritation in having to drive the freak boy to London. Of course he had refused doing so while other people could possibly see them.

Harry had to get up in the middle of the night to indulge his uncle's bent and to avoid a last, very pointless argument. Harry kept his silence determinedly, for he must not get angry as not to call unwanted attention on his person or worse to lose his control. The need to keep his anger at bay was the most pressing thing that kept rolling through his mind endlessly. Do not lose control!

With an exhausted grin the boy watched Vernon Dursley squeezing himself behind the wheel of his very inconspicuous Muggle car.

Taking his uncle's antics into account, the blubbering piece of crammed goose could not get away fast enough from his freakish nephew and his equally freakish friends, who had to gather at this place in a short amount of time.

To Dursley's excuse it had to be said that Harry's relatives did not have it easy for the last few weeks. Especially his uncle who had had a hard time and now probably needed a good dose of sympathy for his pitiful existence, but the boy would not bother. He had had too much fun for said time, practicing with a very much willing Vernon.

Whenever Harry had not researched one of his newfound abilities with Vernon's help, he stayed out of the Dursleys' way whenever possible. When he was practically caught between his huge relatives he bit his lip in silent suffering. Harry could not always keep pushing them around with magic and obliviate them afterwards. However, at the first oportunity he locked himself up in his room, trying to learn as much as he could on his own.

He was not the poor and innocent boy anymore, friendly and shy and openhearted to everybody. The last school year had proven that good did not always beat evil or that, if it did, then often to a price that was not worth to pay. Cedric's death had opened his eyes, whereas Sirius' death had closed some doors, quietly and still not widely known to his friends that there were doors within him to lock up.

He still had some things to figure out and was not explicitly sure to where his course would lead him. Most certainly he would not end up evil, calling himself dark lord, not if Harry had to decide about it. He would die before he let it get out of control as far as that, if he still was able to think in a straight line when the moment came.

Harry simply hoped to get more powerful. To fulfill his plan he had to master as much of his magic as he possibly could. He had to find ways to open his channels for magic further. In search for an opportunity to use his magical core, Harry would do just that and be happy when the magical backlash did not kill him on the spot.

Until now Harry had not even consciously tried to touch it. Firstly because Tom was too strong a presence in his mind, and secondly because Harry did not know enough about the strength of his rapidly changing magic and more importantly the extent of his own powers to use it just then. Harry knew everything about temptations and even if his magic could not function to the fullest yet, Harry would work assiduously to redeem the fact as soon as possible.

Furthermore he had to thank his brute of an uncle that he now had at least a fairly well idea of what he was capable of, and what things needed an urgent upgrading or rigorous avoidance.

Harry had needed someone to test his new abilities on. The obliviating at the end of each day for the last two weeks probably had left some effect, for Harry could watch the small pig's eyes bustle about for few minutes each time. Of course Harry had not let his more playful side take action and had filled the empty spots with all that boring everyday shit his uncle seemed to bloom in.

How it happened that no one noticed what went on in the Dursleys' much prided residence, was a puzzle Harry still had not solved. It could not be that the ministry did not recognize the wandless bits of spell casting Harry did. After all they found Muggleborn wizards and witches when they did accidentally magic, what was very much wandless, too. Perhaps they had justified their tracers to other districts, as they thought him well watched.

Their ignorance to the Muggles fate was disturbing, too. Should not have one of Arthur Weasley's department come to right the wrongs Harry did to his relatives?

He grimaced when Vernon pulled the car out of the parking space with burning wheels, the brakes grating reluctantly, before driving off from King's Cross station in a frenzy.

When everything passed the way he had planned, Harry would not have to see him, his horse-faced wife or his massive offspring for the next fifty years at least.

The last thing Harry had done before climbing in to the back seat of Dursley's car, was to take down the wards surrounding Privet Drive. When they were gone Dumbledore would have no reason to send him back to that place ever again.

From the two possible ways to take them down, short of breaking them and destroying the house, too, only one was workable. Harry could have turned the wards around, so that his aunt would have been under his protection, but that would not have worked well with Dumbledore, because for the manipulative bastard to stay unaware of the wards' changing, Harry Potter had to be the one guarded. So Harry just had called the wards' protection back to his being, as the blood protection thing prevented handling it in any other way.

It had been but a small problem he had had to work hours to get around, nevertheless. Basically it meant that Harry was from now on guardian and fosterling in one person. It was a little difficult to get the magic to recognize him as both, but eventually Harry had managed that piece of art and he would hold the protection wards around Privet Drive until a month's time or so, when he could let it dissipate slowly as he would be far away by then and could not be held responsible in any way if something went wrong at this front.

Standing at the station a little lost with his only trunk and the bird's cage Harry looked around to decide what he could do now, while preparing to wait for the Hogwarts' Express for more than five hours. It was not even six o'clock and the sun still had not totally fought its way onto the sky.

A hoot from his owl pulled Harry out of his near slumber, and after a moment of ponderous thinking Harry's first good deed for the day was to open his owl's cage and to watch smiling when the beautiful bird soared up into the sky with loud screeching noises. After his birthday Harry had been hesitant to let Hedwig fly freely, but now he was sure that she could find the way to Hogwarts safely on her own and would not get caught up in some scheme of a madman ... or by a crazy uncle with a gun. After he lost sight of her Harry rubbed his rapidly dropping eyes. He had not gotten much sleep during the last days between his constantly pestering relatives, a raging Tom and the need to learn anything he could.

Harry looked down at the empty cage and his trunk. He absolutely refused to haul that thing with him for hours. He would not have any muscles left in his arms. It took only a small flick of his wrist and Harry had shrunken everything with a satisfied grin and summoned it to his hand. He blinked, looking fixedly onto his palm. The cart was not part of his Hogwarts' utensils, was it not? With a blush worth of a Weasley Harry bend down and enlarged that one piece again. It would have been embarrassing, had anyone he knew been watching. With a glimpse at the few hurriedly passing people Harry assured that this was not the case, before taking a large step away from the corner and away from people, who would noticing him hanging around the station for too long a time.

Harry strolled around Muggle London in a leisurely pace someone took when one was without obligations, though, his thoughts continuously circled around Voldemort. Harry still had not figured out all of what had happened during the ritual itself. Everything Harry could recount was his feeling of being alive for the first time in his existence. When Voldemort had tried to take Harry's body and soul, it had felt - for a moment - as if he was thrown out of his narrow existence, where he floated to something unrecognizable great and energetic. It had felt good, until he was pulled back again being more aware of magic - his, other people's, the world's in general. It was as if someone had given him a new sense to experience the world as it really was thought to be, for everything had been more ... there.

It was during that short moment when Harry had felt the panic rising within Tom, as he took everything to bind the Dark Lord and to hold him, until Harry somehow had managed to erect mental walls of a strength he never had been able to do before and anyone would be hard pressed to break them.

How Harry had known this to be the only way to come out of their encounter alive and whole as he had gone in, he could not have said it if tortured. He just had gathered his magic to hit back. Harry would not be able to repeat it consciously. Magic was a fleeting thing, ever had been, at least as long is it concerned him.

Harry had been left with a terrible ache in his head and every part of his body was burning in pain, while Tom had tried desperately to break the shields Harry had surrounded him with.

Harry smirked darkly when a brief thought of anger grazed his mind from within. Tom did not like to be reminded of his failure. Too bad. Harry would have to think about it more often then. An angry Tom would not be able to destroy Harry's shields.

Yawning Harry wandered further. He just wanted to sit down somewhere and close his eyes. His feet were beginning to hurt. The shoes were not quite what one needed for a long range walk, but as everything else they would have to do.

With a deep sigh of boredom Harry took his much used Doing-For-Fun-list out of his pocket and studied it intently. A lot of things had been crossed out already, but some were still open. Now that Harry had the luxury of doing things he liked, he had found it hard to decide what to do first on his very long list, and as Surrey did not have much to give to tourists, Harry had decided without further ado that he would make his way into the heart of the city he lived in since his birth, but had never once seen.

During the last weeks Harry had seen more of London than ever before. Now he could truly say that he lived here. Despite Tom's presence he had managed to push thoughts concerning dark lords and a rising war back into the darkest corner of his mind to keep that slimy thing of a tainted soul company. For the first time in his life Harry had gone into a cinema, as a matter of principle an event quite enjoyable, but for Harry a dodgy thing to do. At least, Harry thought, it would need a lot of persuading before he was ready to give it another go, ever. He was glad to put that experience behind him.

Not quiet right for his group of age, Harry had gotten into the cinema nevertheless, of course only with a little bit help of magic. Sitting in the darkness with people screaming now and then, while Tom choose that moment to make himself known, was not a thing Harry wanted to get used to, for it had too much of reality to be even halfway entertaining. The stark mad cackling that had run chillingly through his body, had left Harry for the rest of the film sitting alert and unable to keep his concentration on the screen, as good as the show might have been otherwise. The Muggles certainly had seemed to enjoy it. Even now a shiver ran down Harry's spine when he thought back to the dark room and the screams. Much too much reality!

After that horrible event Harry had decided to stop being selfish. So he had listened to his grumbling belly and had had another first, a much greater success in review. Straight out of the cinema Harry had gone into his first MacDonald's restaurant ever. He had gotten himself filled up with cheeseburgers, coke and French fries, until he had to loosen his waistband, a thing that needed attention, for he still wore exclusively Dudley's cast offs. And alone the first time he did not feel hunger gnawing in his stomach, gave him a feeling of pure joy hardly anything could have topped.

Harry swallowed. Today he still had not eaten anything, but as he did not have any Muggle money left, it was a thought for future thinking. His last meager meal Harry had had the day before at breakfast. His dinner had been canceled without further ado, because Vernon held the opinion that Harry had looked him up and down without the required respect and admiration.

Harry had not disabused Vernon from that notion, for it certainly would be the one thing his uncle was right about. Looking at the big oaf in the wrong way, if taking the oaf's view to things into account, had been a thing Harry had indulged in delight many times. His uncle was not capable of counting the lots of occurrences in his empty bowl of a head Harry had done to 'Vernon-Watching' just in order to forego absolute boredom more than once or a dozen times.

It was not that the Dursleys could have forbidden him to eat; Harry would just have to send them to their rooms again. No, this time Harry had simply forgotten to satisfy his body's needs, as he was busy with fighting off a new attempt of Tom to free his soul.

His stomach growled and Harry shoved the much abused list back into his pocket. He should not have thought about food. Now he could not get away from it. He cursed his stupid stomach. In a few hours it would be stuffed with chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties and Bertie Bott's.

Thinking of Hogwarts brought other stuff to Harry's attention. A visit to Diagon Alley was long since overdue. Until now he had stayed far away from widely known magical places, but he still had hours until the point of no return and the departure of the Hogarts' Express. Harry would not loose any time, for he had other means to travel, even if not taught in Hogwarts. Still wavering Harry weighed the pros and cons, but his stomach had the decisive voice, for it growled like one of Hagrid's beasts and Harry felt really hungry.

A few galleons still should be gathering dust in his trunk. He would have to enlarge it of course, but he would get something to eat before he lost consciousness. Surely he could stay out of sight long enough to risk a furtive glance, for he still needed his school books.

Harry's brows furrowed. Disquieting was just the fact that he could feel the magic of the place even here. Harry did not know how much he was able to take. He still was not feeling wholly comfortable to not stumble over his own feet whenever his magic reached for sources with an equally strong core of energy to bond itself and to strengthen and to widen its scope. But as despite everything else he still was a growing youth, Harry decided to take the risk and to run if he felt himself growing dizzy or numb or especially energetic. He laughed silently. He would not wonder if he turned out to be addicted, for he could not turn off the magic wherever he went - and he sounded like one already.

Slowly his steps took him to the Leaky Cauldron. If this summer did not have happened, Harry would have gone straight through, but today he felt something off. So Harry stared intently at the entrance way to the Wizarding World.

He leaned back against a wall of a house opposite the Cauldron, his foot propped up behind him and his arms crossed over his chest. Harry waited for his magic to calm down or to reveal what had made it bursting like that. Like a breeze of air he seemed to vanish from the corner, sinking silently deeper into the darkness; watching, widely awake and very much hidden among the shadows.

Chapter 5 - Unexpected Encounters

Harry stood watching people going in and coming out of the Leaky Cauldron for half an hour and nothing but his magic's vicious flaring indicated anything wrong. But even so Harry would not set one foot further. If others did not, he had learned from past mistakes. Motionless and silent as a statue Harry stayed where he was, thinking about all and nothing.

So it happened that he almost missed what he had been waiting for, completely lost in his thoughts. If it were not for his magic buzzing and practically singing a foreign hum that went ringing in his ears until he believed himself gone deaf to the world, he would still be staying and waiting and would have missed the lone visitor, never seen before.

It was a spontaneous decision that led Harry to build up his mental walls stronger than ever, literally tying Tom up at hands and feet - at least he would have, if Tom still had a body with him.

Harry looked up and down the street, but nothing more was forthcoming. Thinking about the risk he was going to take, all of his earlier thoughts about learning and not repeating past mistakes were blown out of his mind, as Harry ever so cautiously pulled up the hood of his jumper and followed the golden robed man inside the Leaky Cauldron. When Harry closed the door behind him, his eyes narrowed.

A quick glance around showed him that the man in the golden robe had gone already, and by the noise erupting from the gathered crowd he had left a chaos behind. The one positive thing Harry found was that not one of them appeared to notice his silent figure, as he stepped amidst them quietly to cleave a way through that bubbling and blistering cluster of wizards and witches, who were animatedly gossiping about one thing only. And at this time today it were not The-Boy-Who-Lived's escapades, as Harry noted with some relief. He would not have had to worry about being recognized.

He listened attentively, while making his way past the excited owner, who took most of the talking on his own head. Obviously Harry was not the only one who could feel the strange man's magic surging through anyone, as if he did not have the least bit of control over his abilities. Yet, Harry recognized the only people who had an inkling about anything, were the ones with a stronger than average magical strength and were mostly masters in some way or another.

The boy heaved a sigh when he exited the crowded room, glad to leave the dithering Cauldron's guests to their assumptions, for he had is own investigation to further. It was just what he needed, that they might loose their focus and concentrate on the people passing through with him still inside. After a last glance back Harry followed the golden robed man silently the only way he could have taken and stopped outside next to the brick wall he had gotten the first of many surprises when Hagrid had introduced him to the Wizarding World.

Harry opened the hidden entrance while grazing the appropriate stones just with the tips of his fingers. Even for that tiny little bit of doing magic he had to restrain his strength with all his might, lest he had to leave the wall behind in dust.

Harry drew a trembling breath and stared at the bustling street, silently admonishing himself for his reckless behavior. He had acted too fast. He had for just one moment forgotten the huge amount of magic holding this place. A really reckless and dangerous thing to do in his position.

He leaned against the wall, concentrating on drawing deep and regular breaths. Again he found himself bending his head, supporting his weight on his knees with white knuckled fists and tightly closed eyes. Stupid Harry, the boy thought rasping, you know that you can't hold that much magic on your own. You know and you rush in, nevertheless.

Harry shook his head helplessly. There was no way he could withstand his own curiosity when it worked hand in hand with his magic. He knitted his brows. Sometimes Harry thought the magic almost visible and he wished fervently to be wrong for it was a frightening picture when that huge amount of different colored tendrils of light fought its way to and through people twisting, bonding together and erupting with bursts of energy now and then and everyone just walking through as though all was quite right, which it would be in their eyes, but not in Harry's.

When he opened his eyes after wishing to the stars for a wonder he could still see the magic everywhere. It had been worth a try. He felt the people's strength, could tell if they were good in charms or potions or had an aptitude to certain things or problems with others. He could see their magic interacting, weaving patterns of tremendous variety, some more complicated than others, but all of them beautiful and all of them pulling him further ahead. There had to be a way to put that off if not necessarily needed.

Harry held his head tightly with both hands pressed against his temples. He could not fully suppress a soft whimper when his head ached fiercely. Harry winced, while concentrating hard on his aim. He could feel the golden robed wizard, too. It was the same as it had been with Moody and Lupin, but much stronger, more aware. At that time he had not really thought about it. He had just taken it for granted, but it all belonged together.

He stood up abruptly, his eyes having lost their focus, staring blindly ahead. It was like a magical fingerprint, similar to the ones the Muggles used to identify their criminals. Most people's magic was a steady buzz, nothing exciting, except the fact of seeing magic itself. The golden robed man's magic stood out of the crowd's signature. It glowed and hummed insistently even when he was not anywhere near in person. The pull was so strong that Harry had to physically restrain himself to not follow it right across the alley. Harry seized the nearest lamppost as if it was his lifeline.

His head tilted to the side he concentrated on separating the narrowly woven trails of magic. There were more then one, Harry could tell. More wizard's with that strange magic. He could feel himself breaking out in a sweat. There was just so much and not just the strange, outstanding ones. Even from here Harry could feel Ollivander's, too. The old man's magic seemed quite similar to the gold robed man's and his friends, when he thought about it a moment longer, though, Harry could not tell why he was able to identify him by his magic but none of the other people.

Swallowing, as if in a trance Harry entered Diagon Alley, letting go of the lamppost only reluctantly, instinctively relishing in the magic that was all around him, on him, surging through him like it had just waited for him to come and recognize it. But Harry did not, he could not. It was too much. He felt his knees going weak and thought desperately that he could not pass out on the middle of Diagon Alley.

A moment later it was gone. The magic was still there, but it did not rush forward anymore, for it seemed to have noticed his inability to handle that much at once. Harry straightened himself and looked around. Nobody had interrupted their shopping, nobody looked at him askance. He was still incognito. Harry sighed. He had to find a way to prevent such disturbing occurrences in company with his friends as soon as possible.

Abruptly Harry remembered what had brought him here in the first place and he send his magic out to find the golden robed man, careful not to disturb the different layers of magical presences, for he did not know if someone was able to tell whether Harry had had his fingers on them.

Harry could sense the man and the other wizards equal to him not far away, but in a part of Diagon Alley he had never been in before. He could not even remember having seen the archway to the small dark lane, hidden behind the shop were Hagrid had brought Hedwig for him long years ago. A shudder ran down his spine, as Harry could feel them only a hair's breadth away.

There was something greater going on that kept rigorously just out of Harry's reach, but he could feel Tom running against the walls with malicious intent and knew for sure that, whatever it was, Tom knew. And ever so slowly Harry went further into the dim lit alley, berating himself for not having enough sense to stay back and to wait in a quiet corner for the time to go back to King's Cross station.

Dozens of small arches and back streets plunged in blackness, made him feel like hurrying through a maze. He didn't stay long to memorize the way. Either way Harry would just need to follow the still pulsing threads of magic, leading him straight to where the wizards were heading to.

He could feel them barely a few steps from the dark corner he made himself invisible behind. They were searching, tasting the air, stretching out widely from where they stood and Harry felt drawn to them. The men's magic seemed oddly known to him. His eyes widened unconsciously when vague images appeared in front of his eyes. He had seen them before.

Harry could not say whether he got a flash of Tom's memories or if it were his own, but they had been there when Voldemort tried to bind his soul to Harry's body. Harry had still been mostly unaware of his surroundings, resting from hours of torture, but they had been there. Harry was sure now. They had been helping to...

A sharp pain in his head let him bend his knees unwillingly. Gasping Harry tried to keep his footing. It would not do to be found lying on the ground screaming. Gritting his teeth Harry fought back. What had brought on such a vigorous ... reaction from Tom? The golden robes?

Deeply immersed in his thoughts Harry gathered his wits and went to the darker part of the street, where he sunk down against a pile of boxes and barrels. Who were they? What did they want? Harry sent a fleeting thought to Tom. Why are you so eager to see them?

He could still feel them and their magic's aggressive search for nourishment, even if not as strong as before. It left him quite scared, because he could not defend against something he knew nothing of.

Harry crouched low on his knees, slowly raising his head in a soundless move to peer around his hideout and to watch what was going on, barely able to keep himself from stepping out to become a part of their circle of energy and give way to the constant nagging of his magic.

What were they searching for in a crazy way like that? Sane people would just go to the appropriate ministry's department or try and send an owl at a venture. One did not meet in creepy places, doing magic not even the most well read wizards or witches had heard of before. His heart beating rapidly Harry slid his head above the boxes and watched - and nearly fell back in fright.

He should have realized that they were able to sense him coming. The next time he encountered them he would be careful to hide his magical aura, too, and not only keeping himself from touching the trails.

One arm raised in the boy's direction, the gloved fingers spread widely, one of the golden robed men began to chant something in a low voice, oddly melodious and vibrating through Harry's whole body, while a part of him registered the other three men standing and observing completely motionless.

Harry saw the man's magic stretching, approaching him slowly but steadily. Somewhere back in his head Harry thought that the man did not seem to be too aware of the fact that Harry actually could see what he was doing, for the wizard seemed to expect him to stay there and wait until he had finished whatever it was.

Sizzling and bustling the tendrils grew rapidly and Harry woke from his stupor abruptly when the first magical lightning hit a barrel's surface only inches away from where his head had been just a moment ago. And it was only a backlash, some straying spark of the spell that hit him in a vibrantly livid blood-red color and gave him an electric shock that let his hairs stand on edge.

On hands and feet Harry stumbled backwards, crawling through the mud until he found time to unbend. It was more his utter surprise then anything else that set him off. The shoulder the spell had hit him stung just enough to remind him that he was not playing a children's game. He was not to proud to take his chance in flight when it meant living. For when Tom wanted him to stay it was safest for Harry to do anything but that. And Harry admitted, gritting his teeth firmly, that the tiny little bit of palpable fear may have had a thing to do with his decision, too.

Harry did not know how to fight something like that and just now he did not want to die trying, not when he was already halfway down the road to fulfill his destiny. Golden robed wizards were another guy's problem to take care of. Not looking back to see if they followed was the hardest Harry had done in a long time. He tried to keep a clear brain and not to hurry on the spur of the moment. It was not easily done, while he still felt the magic drawing him back, pulling the air he needed to breath right out of his lungs. All the while he had to try and keep Tom quiet in his cell. It was a hard thing to do, for Harry could hardly concentrate on holding his shields, let alone building some new one around them.

Somewhere along the line, though, Harry was already beginning to get desperate, as he lowered himself against a projection on a wall. Trying to catch his breath he looked around wide eyed. Not a living soul was to see, but he could feel them still. What a deep mess he had gotten himself into now, Harry could only estimate.

Obviously those golden robed wizards were not going to fight on his side during the war. He would be more cautious next time, he really would. How should he have known what he would find, Harry thought, but relented almost instantly, for when he was truthful, what had he thought to achieve by following that man into something that was obviously set up? If they had wanted to catch him or someone else was a question that needed to be answered when he got out of his current predicament unscathed.

He cringed and suppressed a surprised and painful yelp. Why could not Tom stay silent for once when Harry needed all his concentration to get away. The boy grimaced, while puttying the breaches in his magical shields as fast as he could, for he felt the pull again. Vicious bastard. That snake face actually tried to help these wizards catching him! What, for Merlin's sake, was their connection to Tom?

With the firm intention to hide further down, opposite the direction he could feel them coming from, Harry stood up and took a few cautious steps. Though, without consciously deciding to do just that, Harry found himself turning in motion, taking a step further into their direction, while asking himself what he was doing.

Nearly he could feel his magic recognizing them. His veins throbbed and his field of vision narrowed, until he could just make out the group of wizard, bathing in raw energy, being alive in a way Harry had never been. They were like he, they possessed the same powers, the same energy.

Somewhere deep inside his head he could feel someone laughing viciously, bathing in a feeling of triumph, but it was not important. Nothing was important. He just had to get to these men to be one of them. Since the day of his change Harry had not felt that much...

...and Harry flinched back with an embarrassing, squeaking noise and whirled around all in one move when a hand leaned heavily on his shoulder, holding him in his place and another one pressed onto his mouth, preventing him from revealing himself to something he could not possibly like.

Harry was pulled back roughly, deeper into the shadows and further down through a hole in some picket fence. Hastened to keep up with his rescuer's rapid strides, while being grasped tightly at his collar, unable to breath or to think or to do anything else but running, Harry was hauled into an abandoned storeroom, dirty, smelly and luckily empty of golden robes or magical trails vivid enough to follow, save their own of course.

Wordlessly shoved into a dark corner Harry was being held in an implacable grip he was unable to unfasten even slightly. He felt like being pulled out of a torrential rapid, rescued from a whirlpool of, Harry saw it now, very dangerous temptation.

Harry blinked, slowly coming around the fact that he must have been under some sort of spell, because he would not have been stupid enough to leave his hiding place on his own free will. Harry berated himself. At first he was to weak to withstand this ... thing, and now he had not even felt the man's approach. Too much magic was around this place for him to be able to distinguish between persons and animals and objects alike. Everything was just filled to the brink with this low buzzing energy that tried to coerce him to answer its call, wherever it lead to.

Finding himself under a scrutinizing black stare, Harry mustered up enough backbone to put the experience away for later inspection, while preparing himself for an argument with a Potions Master who seemed livid enough to roast him alive.