Harry Potter and the Litany of Blood

Chapter 3: Black Magic

***

Harry stared at his newly arrived bird. Black streaks he couldn't identify marred her white feathers and her normally gleaming eyes were dull and lifeless.

She dropped the black envelope and with a flap of her wings, bounced away from Harry and the envelope.

Hesitantly, Harry walked over to the letter and broke the crimson seal. He unfolded a piece of ebony parchment written in silver ink. The letters glimmered sinisterly in the starlit home of the Dursley's.

Dear Harry

I just wanted to send you a note letting you know I'm thinking about you Harry. All alone in your house, only a feeble blood magic spell to protect you from my Death Eaters, its like you've been gift wrapped for me. I must admit you present a tempting target.

Yet I choose to do nothing about it. Yet.

I want you to wallow in the knowledge that I can come for you at any time. I want you to stew in the understanding that before I destroy you, I will end the lives of your friends and that pathetic excuse for a family that you stay with the way I ended your parents. You will die knowing that your line will end with you and your last moments will be alone.

I get shivers of pleasure contemplating it.

If Dumbledore were a better man he would tell you why I came after your family all those years ago. But I suspect he loves his intrigues too much to tell you that.

Pity about that..

Your owl was most uncooperative, so she had to be chastised. It is a shame she was so loyal to you. She was a magnificent animal.

I will be in contact.

Sincerely

Voldemort, Lord of the Tower of Nightmares

Harry sat back and the letter dropped from his nerveless fingers.

What is Dumbledore not telling me?

Harry frowned. He knew that Dumbledore had his secrets. Things about Harry's past he didn't want Harry to know. Were they things Harry should know but didn't? He wanted to trust Dumbledore but there was a part of him -- the part that was a product of eleven years of living in a cupboard under the stairs by people who should have protected him -- that was angry about the secrets. Wasn't he old enough to know everything? After all he was the one who saw Voldemort come back, he was one who killed the Basilisk, and he was the one that protected the Philosopher's Stone.

Harry grew angrier and angrier as he thought about the unfairness of everything. He was HARRY POTTER for Merlin's sake! And people just treated him like he was some runny-nosed child who'd drop his wand at the first sight of a Death Eater.

A tiny part of him whispered that Dumbledore was just doing his job. There was no way the Headmaster was going to let him do anything dangerous, no matter what he'd seen or done.

That tiny part was ruthlessly crushed as Harry continued to wallow in anger and misery. He raged for an unknown length of time as he stalked around the room. Dark, invisible lashes of raw magic streaked from Harry's body and caused light bulbs and electronics to spark and burst. He only stopped when he saw Hedwig lying on the ground.

Suddenly Harry remembered the words Voldemort had written.

She was a magnificent animal.

The magic faded from around Harry and he knelt next to his stricken bird. His green eyes took in her still form. The black streaks he noticed in Hedwig's feathers were dried, blackened blood. Huge gashes lay beneath the streaks of blood and Hedwig's breast was still. Harry hesitantly touched her feathers and noticed that she was cold.

And her heart wasn't beating.

Harry froze. Hedwig wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. A low growl building in his throat, he felt himself slip away as he had done on the other occasion. This time he didn't fight it. No, this time he embraced the darkness and let it flow through him.

With a quivering hand he touched Hedwig on her breast and a red mist seemed to flow through her and seep into her body. Slowly Hedwig's chest began to rise and fall and her wings began to beat.

Harry sat back and his eyes widened when he saw what he had done. He tried to pull the energy back, draw back into wherever it dwelled within him. The black energy seemed to crackle and boil and Harry fought it. He rode the energy like a tiger and fought the reigns of his runaway power.

Hedwig meanwhile skipped around as she tested her wings. She let out an experimental hoot and cocked her head as she observed her master fight his own power.

Harry could feel the magic out of control; he had opened a floodgate when he tapped into the darkness. The magic rushed out of his body like water passing a broken dam; he could feel it expanding, growing larger and taking on a life of its own. Red mist filled his relative's house and then rolled out like a fog bank. When it reached the borders of the Dursley's yard it met a blue field that pushed it back. When they met Harry gasped. Pain shot though his body as the red mist fed on him and redoubled its attack against the blue barrier.

CRACK!

The barrier collapsed and the mist flowed down the street. Tiny tendrils extended into most of the homes down Privet Drive. Harry could feel Things waking up, stretching long unused limbs.

Harry fell to the ground, his magic leaking through his grasp. As darkness crowded his vision, all he could think was, I hope no one notices this.

***

"-- different magic signature."

"-- collapsed the wards."

"-- never seen anything like that, Dumbledore. All those dead animals."

"Indeed Sirius that was a most disturbing sight." The voice of the Headmaster seemed weighed by fatigue and ancient burdens. "I've never seen raw necromancy like that. Certainly Harry never gave any indication that he had that particular power."

"He bloody well shouldn't have! Necromancy is one of the blackest arts. It's never been seen in the Potter bloodline. I think... did Harry just move?"

Sirius Black, escaped convict and godfather to the Boy-Who-Lived moved to the bedside of his injured godson.

"Harry?"

Harry slowly came back to consciousness and moaned softly. He struggled his way out of the darkness. As Harry awoke, his body feeling like a giant bruise. His limbs tingled with pain and it was all he could lay still and ache.

"Sirius," he finally managed to croak. "Whaa...where am I?"

The lean countenance of the convict broke into a smile. "My home. The House of Black." Sirius smiled and ruffled his godson's hair. "You gave us a right scare."

Dumbledore smiled at Harry, clearly relieved that the teen was going to be all right. He quickly shifted to a frown. "Do you know what you did?"

Harry furrowed his brow as the memories from before jumped to the forefront of his mind. "I'm...I'm not sure. Hedwig's been missing for weeks," and the two older wizards shot each other quick glances, "and she broke through the window at the Dursley's. Voldemort sent me a letter and --"

Harry could feel Sirius' hands squeeze his shoulder. "What did the letter say Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly, seemingly unsurprised by the revelation.

"Just threats about my family and friends. Said when I died I would be alone, same old rubbish you'd expect from him. Anyway, when I was finished reading it, I noticed Hedwig was dead. Something inside me kind of snapped and I did something that caused her to come back to life."

Dumbledore's frowned deepened. "You did more than that. Your untrained necromancy reached out and shattered the protections around you home that I had placed there. You also animated nearly every dead animal in Little Whinging. Your magic took the impulse to keep Hedwig alive and kept doing it. It fed on your life force and nearly killed you." The old wizard made a steeple of his fingers. "Has anything else happened to you this summer?"

Harry nodded his head and told the headmaster and Sirius about the incident with Dudley, leaving out the creation he made in the kitchen of Number Four. "Do you know what's happening to me," he finally asked at the end of his story.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Well, what you did with Dudley is called Legilimency. It's the art of using magic to read thoughts and emotions. What is odd is that only a master Legilimens should be able to do what you did without a wand. As for Hedwig and the other pets, Harry, that is much more worrisome. That is something called Necromancy."

Harry blinked. That didn't sound good. "What's a necromancer, Professor?"

"It's a type of magic. A special ability only a few people are born with. It allows the wielder to use special spells that tap into the power of life and death because a necromancer's magic is entwined and melded with their life force. An ancient necromancer, who wanted his servants to be able to kill easier, since true necromancers are so rare, developed the killing curse from even more deadly killing necromancies. There is a whole body of magic that only necromancers can use. Much of it is dark magic, but not all. Many fine healers and exorcists have been necromancers of great skill." He shot a glance at Sirius, "Despite the reputation it has, Necromancy is not inherently dark. It is said that a truly great necromancer can give life to the dead."

Harry gasped. "So my parents," he started to whisper.

"NO!" Dumbledore shouted, startling Harry and his godfather. "No," he began again more softly when he saw their hope and fear, "there is no way to bring back your parents. Even the greatest necromancer can only revive people dead for a few moments."

"Then I don't want it," Unconsciously clenching his fists, Harry asked, "Can you take it away...make me not a necromancer anymore. I don't want to be any more different than I have to be."

Dumbledore held out his hands. "I wouldn't even know how to go about doing that Harry. Experimenting with special magical abilities is not something you can just do. The side effects would be totally unpredictable. Besides," he added. "I don't know how you became on in the first place. If you had been born one, we would have known a long time ago." He got up. "We need to let you rest, so we'll talk more later." Dumbledore swept out of the room, Sirius following behind.

"I'll be back later Harry, after dinner."

Harry nodded and leaned back. The small amount of excitement had caused him to become almost totally exhausted.

***

Then next few days passed by slowly for Harry. Alternately sleeping and waking, Harry obediently drank the potions Madam Pomfry gave him and stayed in bed. Headmaster Dumbledore had sent for her when he recognized the signs of magical exhaustion.

Harry spent what little time he was awake studying his surroundings. The room looked a lot like the Infirmary of Hogwarts except for it was significantly less inviting. Black bricks constructed the walls and even during the day, Black Manor seemed almost oppressive with its darkness and shadows. Harry could feel the ancient spells that went into constructing and warding the home. He didn't know where the home was located and he was far too weak to look out the single small window set into one side of the wall.

Although almost no one came to visit him beside the Headmaster and Sirius, Harry could hear voices outside his room echoing down a hallway although none of them seemed familiar except for a silky murmur that could be Professor Snape.

Perhaps the most surprising tenant of the Noble House of Black was Fleur Delacour. The stunning part-veela witch surprised him his first morning at Sirius's house.

***

*Flashback*

Harry opened his eyes and beheld a blurry angel. Reaching blindly with his hands, he found his glasses and put them on.

A young woman with white blond hair the texture of spun silk watched him fumble with a smile on her face. A single perfect eyebrow arched above crystalline blue eyes.

"'Ello 'Arry," Fleur said. "It iz very good to zee you."

"Fleur?"

She laughed at his dumbfounded expression and nodded. "It iz moi."

"What are you doing here?"

"I am apprentice to Mademoiselle Pomfry. I weesh to become a medi-witch. She iz one of zee best."

"You want to be a medi-witch. Really?" Harry sounded incredulous.

Her voice dropped several degrees. "Do you think I am only pretty face 'Arry?" As she bustled about, pouring a strengthening potion into a goblet, she continued. "Was I not chosen to reprezent my school in the Triwizard Competition? I have skills."

Harry laughed. "Never said you didn't. You just caught me off guard. I didn't expect you to be my nurse."

Fleur held out a foaming goblet. "Drink 'Arry and tell me how you feel afterwardz. I'm almost certain zat I got zee potion correct, but maybe not. I am only pretty face, you know?" As she spoke her eyes twinkled in a way that had nothing to do with being a veela.

And everything to do with being a woman.

*End Flashback*

***

"Alright, Mister Potter," Madam Pomfry huffed as she bustled. "You seem fine and about as good a health as I've seen you, aside from magic exhaustion that weakened you some. Bed rest for a few days and I don't want to hear about you casting so much as a light spell during that time." She turned to her assistant. "Fleur, dear, I want you to make sure Harry gets plenty of strengthening potions and rest." She looked back at her reluctant patient. "If he gives you any troubles just give him a dose of that Veela charm of yours."

Harry grumbled, "I don't need any bed rest."

"Don't complain," Sirius called out from where he leaned against doorway of Harry's room. "Do you know how many people would kill for their very own Veela nurse?" He smiled. "Enjoy it, I would. And so would your dad."

"'Arry will not give me any troublez, Will you 'Arry?" Fleur turned a thousand-watt smile on the boy who lived.

"Er... no."

***

Fleur spent the next several days taking care of Harry. She brought him his meals and made his potions. She helped him do a little walking around the room. Mostly she just kept him company so he wouldn't go stark-raving mad.

Harry learned that the Fleur he knew at the Triwizard tournament was only the tip of the very large iceberg that was Fleur Delacour.

Her family was quite wealthy. Her father Anton Delacour was the most well-known wizarding wine maker in all of France. He owned huge fields of wine grapes in some of the best wine growing land around Europe and America. He grew grapes to make Muggle wines as well as several varieties of wizarding grapes for special magical wine recipes. Some of the most well-known potion makers in France worked from his winemaking business and he was quite wealthy in both the wizarding and muggle worlds thanks to the business he did in both of them.

Her mother, Dominique Delacour was a wizarding fashion designer and former model. Being half veela the aging process was quite kind to her and she still did some modeling work from time to time which was always a big splash in the society pages.

Little Gabrielle Delacour was the middle child of the Delacour family. She was a bright and energetic child who loved to draw and could perform simple animations wandlessly. The family expected that she would become quite the skilled wizard painter in the future.

The youngest of the Delacour clan was the only male child and thus did not share in the veela nature of the women in the family. Pierre Delacour was barely three years old, but with his sapphire-hued eyes, Fleur knew that he would still be a heartbreaker one day.

As for Fleur herself, she talked about some of the trips abroad she has gone on. Her father travels a great deal and Fleur developed quite the taste for traveling herself. She told Harry about her trips to America and her father's friend the Secretary of Magic, who ran the US magical community on behalf of the President of the United States.

Over several days, Harry watched Fleur talk and marveled at her. He watched the way her eyes lit up when she described her father and his beautiful wineries. He watched, as spots of blush appeared on her pale cheeks when she talked about a few of the tricks she played on overly aggressive suitors. He watched her smile when she talked about her little brother or her artistic sister. He thought he could watch her forever.

Harry realized he had somehow fallen for Fleur. Fallen for her hard.

Which depressed him. He realized that a scrawny, underfed, undersized fifteen year old had no chance with an older and very beautiful woman. Even if he was Harry Potter. He longed for a travel story of his own to tell. He longed to tell Fleur about a trip to distant lands and have her hanging on his every word while he painted a picture with his words. He longed to be someone who had really done something with his life and not been a shut-in for the better part of his existence.

But he wasn't that person.

Oh, he had stories all right. Stories about killing and death. Stories about betrayal and fear, about rivalries and pain. He didn't want to tell Fleur those stories. Those were personal, they shouldn't be told like a campfire tales just to impress a pretty girl. Besides, he wanted to share a fun story, a beautiful story that he could share, that could be theirs and theirs alone.

But he didn't have any of those stories.

***

Fleur was not Harry's only visitor. Sirius spent huge chunks of the day with Harry, often just sitting with him. Sometimes he shared a story or two about Harry's parents when they had gone to Hogwarts. Other times he just listened with Harry as Fleur talked about things. Whenever Harry tried to steer the conversation to current events, Sirius steered it away with a well-placed question to Fleur.

Sirius noticed Harry's attraction right away and often gave Harry a nudge or a wink when Fleur was busy. Things that in no way helped Harry's disposition towards either Fleur or his enforced convalescence. Sirius was also free with excuses that left Harry alone with his beautiful nurse for extensive periods of time.

***

"So what do you think about Black Manor," Sirius asked a few days later.

Harry looked around. "Well this room is nice," he quipped. "Dunno about the rest of the place though."

"Well Fleur and Poppy think you should be up in another day or so. The great weakness of a necromancer is that their powers link their magic and their life force together. Your uncontrolled power burst tapped into your life energy so she's been replenishing it."

"I'll be glad when I can get out of bed," Harry muttered. Not the greatest patient under any circumstances, the fact he really needed the bed rest was driving him mad.

"When you're a little better I'll give you the run down of the place. You'll love the dueling chamber." Sirius said excitedly, "And the library is something to see. I think there might even be a book or two on necromancy."

"Cool," Harry said unexcitedly. Sirius looked at Harry and stopped smiling.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked worriedly.

Harry looked away. "I've been cooped up here for three days and no one is telling me anything. What happened to my relative's house? Were they mad? Did you fix the damage that I did? What's Voldemort been up too? Have there been any deaths. Why didn't anyone write to me at the beginning of summer?" The questions spilled out of Harry's mouth in a confused torrent. There were so many questions that he could hardly articulate all of them.

Sirius watched Harry as he talked. The flash of his eyes and the slight flush of his pale skin as the frustration of his position became a nearly palpable force around him. So like his mother, Lily.

"Everyone says look like your father," he began softly, "but right now, this second, you are your mother's son."

The rage and frustration fell away from Harry and he blinked in surprise.

"Lots of things have happened Harry, and you can't know all of them, but..."

"Why not, Sirius!" Harry shouted. "I've seen way more than most grown-up wizards. I had all the Unforgivables used on me and I saw Voldemort come back. I deserve to know!"

"Yes you do Harry," came a voice from the doorway. "You deserve to know as much as you can handle, which is a great deal more than many adult wizards. But still not everything."

Dumbledore's walked into the room, a small cloth bag clutched in his hands. He made his way to Harry's bed. "You can get out of bed tomorrow. Miss Delacour has given her permission. She also wanted me to pass on her compliments on your enthusiasm for following directions. If it is true that she was able to get you to obey her instructions she may prove to be a most gifted healer." His eyes twinkled as he spoke. With a swish of his wand he moved a chair to Harry's bedside and sat down.

"Never forget Harry, that you are a young wizard. Do not be eager to shoulder the burdens of adults. There is more than enough time for that in the future. That having been said, we have much to discuss, beginning with some unpleasant news."

The headmaster and Sirius exchanged looks and Sirius took up the explanation. "Harry, your aunt, uncle, and cousin were all killed the day you had your...episode," Sirius explained softly. It looks like they were killed by Death Eaters."

"Bu-but Uncle Vernon called me that afternoon," Harry said softly.

The two adults exchanged glances. "We think that the Death Eaters used polyjuice to disguise themselves as your relatives. With your blood protection gone and your guard down, you would have proved easy to capture." Sirius said finally.

Harry's mind rolled as he thought about his relatives and their death. They had hated him and treated him horribly, but they were family. Maybe the last blood that was his in the world until he had a family of his own.

"What are you feeling Harry?" Dumbledore asked. The old headmaster fixed his blue gaze on the youth. Harry shivered as he contemplated how much power those twinkling eyes hid.

Harry thought for a second. What was he feeling? The Dursley's were the last of his blood. They were the last bit of his mum that he had left. As he thought some more his scar started to burn and he thought of all the times they had starved him, belittled his family and his birthright. He remembered hollow stomachs and slaps to the face. He remembered bars on his windows.

"What am I feeling," he repeated in a dark voice. "I'm feeling glad that they're dead. Dead at the hands of people who hated them. I hope they were scared in their last moments. I hope they regretted everything they ever did to me."

Sirius blinked and leaned forward. "You don't mean that Harry."

"I do." Harry spat. "I'M GLAD THEY'RE DEAD!"

Suddenly Dumbledore stepped forward and shook Harry by the shoulders. He roared in a great voice that seemed larger than his ancient frame, but what he was saying, Harry could not tell.

Harry stopped ranting and shook his head. He looked between Sirius and Dumbledore. "What happened?"

"I do not know." Dumbledore looked speculative. "I must consult some books and perhaps a few paintings, but I know unnatural emotions when I see them."

"So if my guardians are dead, what is going to happen to me now?" Harry asked softly, as if his outburst hadn't taken place.

Dumbledore smiled lightly. "While you cannot stay with Sirius officially, I have petitioned to become your legal guardian. Since I am far to busy to have you around all the time," his eyes started to twinkle mischievously, "You will simply have to stay here with your godfather."

Sirius smiled hopefully at Harry. Wordlessly Harry gave his godfather a one-armed hug. "There's no one I would rather stay with."

Dumbledore let the two have their moment together before he coughed slightly. "I am afraid that I have some further news." He opened the small cloth bag and pulled out a sphere that shined with a bright gray light. "This is an aura sphere. I used it to sample your magic while you were sleeping the other day. I consulted with several colleagues who knew more about necromancers than I, and together we analyzed your magic Harry."

"Well," Harry added impatiently. "What did you find out?"

"Aura spheres were originally designed to study people with unusual magic signatures. They are rarely used anymore because the spells and training necessary are long and tedious. Still," he added, "it can be a useful tool in the proper circumstances. I have been able to figure out that you are not a natural necromancer, Harry." He pulled out a second Aura sphere, this time it glowed with black light. "This is from a necromancer who allowed his aura to be recorded several centuries ago. As you can see, your auras are very different. Natural necromancers have black auras signifying their strong connection to death. Most wizards have rainbow hued auras, with differing bands of thickness depending on the strength of their abilities at the Wizarding arts."

"Well my aura is gray. What does that mean professor?" Harry looked to Sirius, and his godfather squeezed his hand comfortingly.

"It means," Dumbledore, said heavily, "Harry that your normal aura was white. The introduction of a necromancer's aura has shaded it. Made it turn gray. White aura's are very rare, Harry. Only someone with exceptional levels of magical ability in every field has a white aura. I myself am one of the few wizards in England to have a white aura. Only a wizard with a white aura can study to become an archmage."

"Archmage?"

"An archmage is simply a term used to describe wizards who delve deeply into the most esoteric parts of magic. While most wizards are content to learn the spells and charms that allow them to get by day to day, archmages mine the depths of magic and learn how to combine the different arts into a whole that is greater. For example the Animagus transformation was discovered by an Archmage who spent his life in the far reaches of self transfiguration." He smiled. "But that is not important right now. What is important is that your aura changed."

"What caused it to change?" Sirius asked tightly. "Aura's don't just shift. They're virtually immutable."

"I can put forth a theory, but it is by no means certain," Dumbledore cautioned. "When Voldemort used Harry's blood to make his new body, he strengthened the connection that already existed between the two of them. The curse scar, the blood magic, and the final ingredient-

"Priori Incantatem," Harry whispered.

Dumbledore nodded silently.

The linked wand effect connected the brother wands of Voldemort and Harry. The golden cage that revealed the past victims of the Dark Lord, including Harry's parents and Cedric Diggory, was an exceptionally rare magical effect that only occurred when two wands that shared the same core interacted with each other magically. It had saved Harry's life and given him a glimpse of his parents.

"It seems that when your wands linked, his magic flowed down the connection and into you. The wand acted like a bridge and a set of scales. There was more magic and knowledge on Voldemort's side because he is more powerful than you. The wands attempted to equalize both your magic's by giving you some of his power. That power seemed to be his necromantic abilities and skill at Legilimency. I would think that had you maintained the connection you would have drained more power from him." Dumbledore met Harry's gaze. "This is bad Harry. Magic is very tied up in emotion and the mind. More so in Voldemort than in most others because of the transformations he has performed on himself. If you have some of his powers, you could develop some...aberrations in your behavior. Based on what you've told us and your outburst, Harry, it's already starting. Combine that with your dreams and your psyche is going to be under tremendous strain this year."

Harry's mind, for what seemed like the one-billionth time that day, spiraled out of control. "So what am I going to do," he spat, "wait till I go mad?"

"No Harry." The old headmaster stated calmly. "I've sent Remus for aid from people who understand your condition and I am going to teach you Occlumany." At Harry's questioning glance Dumbledore clarified. "It's a mental art that will allow you to master your mind and emotions. Hopefully, it will allow you to control your dark impulses -"

"But just for a while right?" Sirius asked. "Just until you can take the black magic out of Harry, right?" Dumbledore was silent. "Right?"

"You can't, can you." Harry whispered. "You can't take it out of me."

"I can't," Dumbledore said. "If I were to try, you'd end up a squib. Completely without power."

"No, Harry. I'm afraid you're going to live with Voldemort's power inside you."

***