Chapter Text
Hey friends and fans, Kairomaru is here with another chapter of Arch Mage, the Path of Magic! Voldemort’s plot for his own ritual has reached its final step, but that doesn’t mean other orders aren’t being carried out by his faithful sycophant, Barty Crouch Jr. who has been tasked with traveling abroad to collect certain…things. But such things may not go as unnoticed as the Dark Lord would like. Meanwhile, Harry and friends complete their own preparations for the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament.
You can find my Fanfiction.net page and ALL of my TVTropes pages here: https://linktr.ee/Kairomaru
So, without further delay, please enjoy.
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Chapter 45 – Creeping Darkness of Undeath
It was a normal enough day at Hogwarts in June. Students in Fifth and Seventh years were finishing up their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s while the other students were more interested in the upcoming Third Task. After the displays they’d seen from the Champions, especially Harry and Fleur in the Second Task, all of them were eager to watch another spectacle of amazing magic.
“So, what is he doing?” Astoria asked as she looked at Harry.
“What is he wearing, more like.” Tracy questioned with a snort of laughter.
Luna smiled at Harry’s outfit. “I think it looks nice.”
Harry wasn’t wearing normal Hogwarts robes, no, instead his clothing was dark green and brown pants, slightly baggy on his legs and made of a combination of linen and leather; a brown linen shirt and over that a forest green cloak with a hood and the edges of the hem all trimmed in a dark blue and bronze color. Around his neck was a necklace of various stones and two large claws that looked like they’d come from a large magical beast of some kind. Around both of his wrists were leather straps adorned with feathers, some small while others were larger, and the sash around his waist was also adorned with a multitude of feathers that hung from the cloth.
Hermione tilted her head after taking in Harry’s outfit. “Are you trying to learn druidic magic, Harry?”
“Is that what this is all about?” Daphne, coming from an old magical family, knew a bit about the older ‘ways’ of magical folk in the British Isles, even if only through hearing the stories about them.
Harry, still sitting on the ground, opened one eye to look at the five girls in front of him. “Sort of. It’s an interesting enough Branch of Magic, to be sure. However, at the moment, I’m trying to put to practice the magic of communing with the earth. Druids of old were said to be adept at it, so I figured I’d follow the look and style while I practice.”
“Why’re you trying to talk to the ground?” Astoria questioned curiously, looking at the grassy ground beneath her feet.
“It’s part of trying to figure out ways to utilize the essence of earth.” Harry answered her with a little grin. “The land holds onto the echoes of powerful memories, but I haven’t figured out a way to do anything with them yet. So, I’m practicing touching the essence of earth and then I’ll work out a few ideas for how to utilize it.”
Tracy laughed, not at Harry’s plans, but at his reasoning for wearing the outfit he was in. “So, you just dressed for the part?”
Harry nodded once. “Right.”
Luna giggled as she sat next to Harry and touched his forest green cloak. “I like this outfit, Harry. Do you think I could get one too?”
“Of course, Luna.” Harry wrapped his arm around his surrogate little sister with a grin, pulling her into a side hug. “I’ll show you some of the books that I read about druids and help you with making your own outfit, if you’d like.”
“Yes, please!” Luna beamed at Harry, hugging him back tightly.
Daphne hummed thoughtfully, imagining Luna in an outfit similar to Harry’s. “Hm, that oddly fits, I think.”
Hermione seemed to agree with a little nod of her head. “Luna’s grades in Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, and Transfiguration would fit with the fantasy druids that I heard about back in primary school.”
“Can we make a nice, cute outfit for me sometime, Harry?” Astoria asked, the youngest girl clearly not wanting to be left out.
Daphne pulled Astoria into a hug and playfully tousled her little sister’s hair. “I’ll help you too, if you’re good.” She teased with a grin.
Astoria looked up at Daphne with a smile and hugged her big sister back. “No take backs!”
Tracy laughed at the cute sisterly moment. “So sweet~”
“What kind of outfit do you want, Astoria?” Harry asked with a chuckle, continuing the warm and light-hearted conversation. “If you weren’t Daphne’s sister, and therefore my surrogate little sister, I could suggest the Japanese ‘Magical Girl’.”
Daphne shot Harry a strong look, having heard about some of the ‘manga’ that Harry had seen on his family’s trip to Japan. “She is NOT going to prance around in a skirt short enough to be a belt!”
“And I agree.” Harry nodded, barely holding in his laughter.
“Harry…” Hermione playfully swatted his shoulder as Harry cracked up into bright laughter.
“What’s a Japanese magical girl and what does it have to do with short skirts?” Astoria asked, confused about Daphne’s reaction to Harry’s statement.
That got a burst of loud laughter from Tracy—who had also heard about manga from Harry—and she nearly doubled over holding her stomach as she laughed.
-Department of Magical Law Enforcement ~ Auror Offices-
“You’re saying the entire body is missing?” Rufus Scrimgeour, a Senior Auror, asked Hestia and Tonks as he read over their report on the apparent graverobbing of Evan Rosier’s grave. “Most past cases of graverobbing were about stealing things the deceased had been buried with; rings, wands, jewelry, and other such things because another member of the family felt that the items were owed to them after the person in question passed on. But to take the entire body…” He mulled over the strangeness of the preliminary investigation.
“No one has made any kind of demands yet.” Hestia had just checked before this meeting to make sure that such a letter hadn’t arrived at the Ministry. “Nor has anyone strung up the corpse as some sick form of ‘revenge’ against the Death Eaters from the Seventies.”
Scrimgeour nodded, flipping to the last page of the report. “Why anyone after revenge would wait over a decade for it and dig up a Death Eater, rather than go after someone that claimed to be under the Imperius Curse, is also very odd.”
“Not to sound like Mad-Eye, but this seems like the work of Dark Wizards or Witches, rather than someone after revenge.” Tonks said, knowing that many of the Senior Aurors that had served with Alastor during the war against Voldemort had become exasperated with the grizzled man’s paranoia over the years following Voldemort’s fall.
“As uncomfortable as it is to think about, that’s a valid concern in this case.” Scrimgeour said with a heavy sigh as he set the report down before flicking his wand, opening a drawer in the cabinet to the side of his desk and levitating a file out and into his hand. “These reports have been circulating in the ICW from multiple member nations recently. After the graverobbing was reported for Rosier’s grave, Amelia made sure to give me a copy of it.”
Tonks and Hestia looked at the report as Scrimgeour set it on his desk and opened it for them to read. What was detailed was various graves and tombs being robbed across Europe. From small local graveyards, all the way to old tombs and mausoleums that had been used for centuries. But every single case had the same odd note that set it apart from a ‘normal’ case of graverobbing.
None of the burial goods had been stolen…just the bodies or bones.
“What the bloody hell is going on in Europe?” Hestia questioned after reading over the report compiled by the ICW.
Tonks shook her head once. “So much graverobbing so suddenly…this can’t be unconnected.” The fact that they all had the same modus operandi of not taking any of the burial goods only made that more certain.
“This case is apparently much larger than we initially thought. We’ll be bringing in more Aurors and more members of the Investigation Department to handle this.” Scrimgeour told both of the young Aurors. “You’re not being taken off the case.” He said before either Tonks or Hestia could question it. “However, if some group of Dark Wizards have come to Britain to rob graves, then we’ll find them and apprehend them.” Scrimgeour looked much like a lion—as many often compared him to—his expression fierce at the thought of people committing such acts on British soil.
“Yes, sir.” Tonks and Hestia both agreed, inwardly pleased that they weren’t being kicked off the case just because they were some of the newest members of the Auror force.
-Voldemort’s Safehouse-
Barty Crouch Jr. knelt before his master obediently, his eyes looking solely at the floor until he was given leave to raise his head. “I have completed the task you gave me abroad, my lord.”
“Very good, Barty.” Voldemort gave actual praise in his cold, sibilant hiss. His red eyes gazed upon the open trunk set between himself and Barty’s kneeling form. The expanded space within was filled with wrapped bundles, some larger than others, but all of them containing the same thing: corpses and bones. The small package that he’d already had Barty deliver by owl was safely in the hidden ritual room, waiting for the time Voldemort had deemed the best to perform the ‘Lineage of Undeath’ by his own understanding of the ritual and his own improvements to it, since he couldn’t ask the original necromancer after the crafty spirit had destroyed the skull medium that he needed for another séance.
“Thank you, my lord.” Barty replied, a deep elation filling him from his sycophancy to his master. He didn’t even care about the odd feeling in the air as more and more fallen Death Eaters had been added back into Voldemort’s ranks as he pulled them from the beyond, returning them as undead. The strange specters that floated through the air around Voldemort, fading in and out of sight, continued to bring about an unsettling chill as well, though it was less temperature and more a feeling of wrongness.
Voldemort levitated the trunk into the air, the lid closing, and had it follow after him. “Guard this place until I return.” He ordered without looking back, his hissing tone making it clear that Barty should leave immediately.
Barty backed out of the room, his head still lowered. “Yes, my lord.”
The door closed behind Barty before Voldemort opened the hidden passage that led down the stone stairs and into the subterranean chamber where he performed his dark rituals. He levitated the trunk onto the floor near the work table on one side of the room for later. Looking over the intricate ritual circle that he’d painstakingly drawn out in his own blood (or the blood of his current body at any rate) he made a circular motion with his wand and then a flick and the floor lifted upward in a slab, not upsetting the circle at all. With a wave, the circular slab of stone shrank down to the size of a tea saucer and floated into Voldemort’s free hand.
“It will soon be time.” Voldemort hissed to himself, knowing that the sun had just set a short time ago. He picked up two wrapped bundles, the ones from Little Hangleton, and then reached out for the second to last item. Picking up the small cloth bag that Barty had owl mailed to him while he’d been abroad, Voldemort walked back up the stairs and closed the hidden door again.
The undead Death Eaters stood around the safehouse, some talking, but all of them went silent as their master passed by. The group of undead remained silent even after Voldemort left, all of them standing as if in a trance for several long moments, before beginning to speak to one another again…as if they didn’t even notice that they’d stopped talking and moving at all.
Voldemort strode out into the night, his wand flicking every several steps with the Revelio spell to check his surroundings. When nothing came up throughout his walk a good distance from the safehouse, Voldemort deemed the area still secure and levitated the stone disc through the air and gently settled it on the flat ground. A simple wave of the wand and it returned to its true size, expanding to cover the same amount of area that it had taken up in the hidden basement ritual room. Unwrapping the first package, the ones containing Marvolo Gaunt’s bones, he set the skeleton in the center of the inner circle of the ritual circle’s many intricate lines and shapes. Next he did the same with the bones of his worthless Muggle father, Tom Riddle, but opposite of his grandfather’s bones. Ideally, he’d have both his mother and father’s bones, his magical grandfather and grandmother’s, and even his magical great-grandfather and great-grandmother’s bones. However, the Lineage of Undeath required direct blood connection in a straight line of descent, so his uncle Morfin’s bones were useless and his mother’s body had been cremated after she died and no one came to claim the body.
“No matter.” Voldemort uttered quietly to himself as he looked up at the night sky, seeing the full moon reflecting light down onto the land. “This is an auspicious day for rituals of this nature…a full moon on the thirteenth day of the month.” Both were powerful in their own way, as the moon reflected the power of the sun and introduced a cold light to the dark, and thirteen was a powerful magical number as well, inherently connected to various forms of ritual magic and empowering them. With these added conditions to the ritual, even lacking more than his Muggle father’s powerless bones and his grandfather’s magical bones, he could increase the power of the ritual with the date and the full moon to make up for his lack of ‘lineage’ within the ritual.
Spreading the phoenix ashes in a circle, the edge of which was partially overlapping each skeleton, Voldemort now only needed the final ‘component’ to begin the ritual. With a dark gleam in his red eyes, Voldemort whispered into the night air and one of the specters faded into view for a second before vanishing again.
“M-My lord?” Wormtail stuttered out a few minutes later, nearly being pushed along by the specter that hovered behind him. “Y-You wished to s-see me?” He asked as he bowed low to the Dark Lord.
“Yes, Wormtail. I have need of you.” Voldemort hissed out coldly. “Stand at the edge of the circle, do NOT enter it.” The warning was clear and Wormtail scurried to obey, standing at the edge of the blood circle only a few seconds later. “Do not move.” Voldemort ordered before he began to utter something under his breath that Wormtail couldn’t hear. The silvery moonlight almost seemed to make the lines painted in blood glow. That glow became very real as Voldemort’s chant continued, the blood lines glowing a sickeningly dark red. A breeze whipped up in what had been still night air and Wormtail felt the ‘wrongness’ that now hung about the safehouse building up rapidly. He wanted to flee, but was far too terrified of his master to disobey orders. Voldemort finished his chant with a louder word in a language that Wormtail didn’t know before looking up and meeting the Rat Animagus’s eyes. Without a word, Voldemort only lifted his hand, Peter Pettigrew felt a jerk on the front of his clothes and was pulled forward suddenly.
“Oof!” Peter coughed out as he landed on the glowing red lines of the ritual circle. “M-My lord?!” He tried to scramble up and beg for forgiveness, even if he was certain that his master had been the one to force him inside the ritual circle. It was only when he realized that his body suddenly felt incredibly heavy, as if he was submerged in thick mud, that Peter’s terror gripped him so completely that he barely heard Voldemort’s next words.
“Your life is needed, Wormtail. But you’ll return to my service soon enough.” Voldemort hissed out as the circle of phoenix ashes within the inner circle of the larger ritual circle burst into malevolent purple-blue flames.
Peter felt a sharp pain throughout his entire body that jolted him so much he managed to force himself to his knees. “M-Master…?” He asked, his voice struggling to get out. “AAARRRGGGHHH!!!” The scream of utmost agony that tore through his throat a second later rang out through the night. His body was consumed by the red light of the blood lines, breaking apart into blood and dust among the red light before even that was consumed and the circle glowed all the brighter.
The malevolent purple-blue flames surrounding Voldemort flared higher, obscuring him from view as the bones of Tom Riddle and Marvolo Gaunt both broke down into dust and swirled into the center as Voldemort’s ‘borrowed’ body was consumed by the magical flames leaving behind a black, smoke-like shade. The swirling bone dust met the black vapor and rapidly formed a new skeleton of black bones. The smoke-like shade clung to the new black bones and the purple-blue flames swirled around both. In a burst of the unsettling flames, a figure was left behind, standing in the center of the—now scorched and ruined—ritual circle.
“Haaa…” Voldemort exhaled, not that he needed to anymore. The blackened ashes that clung to his body began to fall away as he slowly moved his new body. His skin was pale…almost snow white and glowed in the moonlight. His face was partially deformed from his original body, his nose smaller and almost flat, with slitted nostrils. Combined with his red eyes and bald head, he looked a bit like a serpent now. “The disconnect and pain are gone.” Voldemort said to himself with a pleased little hiss. The bodies that he possessed always broke down and in their slow and withering deaths, he suffered pain and the slowly spreading numbness that came with the body falling apart little by little.
But now…
Bam
The ground to one side of the stone floor exploded into dust and dirt with a mere motion of Voldemort’s hand.
The Dark Lord chuckled coldly as he looked at what he’d managed with just a flex of his magical power. “That’s what I recall from before that night.” He said darkly, recalling having this power back before he’d been destroyed by his own spell when he’d tried to kill Harry Potter. While the ‘Lineage of Undeath’ couldn’t grant him greater power with so little ‘lineage’ for him to add to it, it had provided him exactly what he wanted: a strong, un-aging, undying body that allowed him to use all of his magical power without limit. With a mere thought and pulse of his magic, the air around him was nearly swimming in specters, their quiet, whisper-like wails filling the air like an unsettling, cold breeze. In the same moment, the undead Death Eaters emerged from the safehouse and walked towards Voldemort in silence. Once they were all gathered before him, seemingly in a trance, they kneeled in perfect unison to their master.
Voldemort had become undead, but no mere inferi, zombie, or even vampire. He was close to a lich of ancient tales, but a bit different as well due to not inhabiting his own undead flesh. Possessing a skeleton of black bones, flesh made of a sacrificed living wizard and the cast off death ash of a phoenix, he was truly something beyond most other undead. Some might even call him a demon or a devil.
“Robe me.” Voldemort said and one of the undead Death Eaters brought forward a simple black robe and draped it over his shoulders. “My wand.” He held out his hand and a second undead Death Eater brought the wand that he’d been using to him. Taking the wand in hand, Voldemort paused for a moment as he felt no reaction from it. “Hm, I suppose that should be expected.” He handed the wand back and closed the black robe around his body as he began to walk back towards the safehouse, all of his undead following him like perfectly marching soldiers. “It seems I will require an Osgravis of my own.” That wouldn’t be difficult though, he’d gotten more than enough practice making them lately. “Once I have my own Focus taken care of, it’ll be time to start bolstering my forces further.”
All of the corpses and bones that Voldemort had Barty steal from their graves across Europe had one other thing in common aside from being criminals, after all.
They were ALL believers in blood purity and their crimes had been against Muggles, mudbloods, and the witches and wizards that welcomed them into the magical world.
‘And such people are so very easy to incite to my cause, rousing their spirits by kindling their rage and resentment makes it almost easy to bind them to my control.’ Voldemort thought to himself as he entered the safehouse.
The feeling of ‘wrongness’ in and around the safehouse only grew heavier and colder as Voldemort returned. It was now at such a level that every living Death Eater called to the place would feel a primal fear down to their very bones.
-Hogwarts ~ June 14th-
“Ugh…” Harry grumbled, laying his head on the long table in the Great Hall.
Fleur rubbed his back gently, looking a bit worried at seeing her boyfriend tired and potentially sick. “Are you feeling unwell, Harry?”
Harry turned his head and opened one eye to look at Fleur. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I kept waking up or tossing and turning.” He wasn’t sure what had caused his restless sleep, but he hoped it didn’t become a recurring thing.
“Are you getting nervous about the Third Task, perhaps?” Hermione asked since the final task was only ten days away.
“Don’t feel nervous…just tired.” Harry said with a yawn.
Luna levitated some bacon over to Harry. “Maybe you’ll feel better if you eat?”
Harry opened his mouth and let Luna feed him the bacon, much to the giggles of Tracy and Astoria.
The morning mail began to arrive in the normal flock of owls. Copies of the Daily Prophet fell into many hands, some of the owls delivered packages from home or the Owl Order Service. But everything was normal enough as Hedwig swooped low and landed on the table before Harry with a letter tied to her leg.
“Prek.” Hedwig made a sound as she saw Harry’s current state. Leaning down, she began to nibble on Harry’s hair, acting like a worried owl mother for a chick.
Harry grinned at Hedwig’s affectionate nature and sat up. “I’m alright, Hedwig. What have you got there?” He waited for Hedwig to hold her leg out and gently untied the letter while Luna fed the snowy owl some ham from her plate. “From Sirius?” He opened the letter and began to read. “I was sure this would be the case anyway…” The first part was just telling Harry that Sirius, Andromeda, and Ted would all be at the Third Task to watch. “Ah… I see.” Harry got to the main point of the letter and read about Sirius’s concern for Remus who had gone through the full moon last night. ‘But asking if I can make a potion to cure Lycanthropy for my Mastery is a little beyond a reasonable request.’
It would certainly shake up the entire Wizarding World though.
Tucking the letter into the inside pocket of his robe, Harry petted Hedwig and then watched her fly off to the Owlery to get some rest.
“Anything important, Harry?” Daphne asked, seeing that Harry was more awake now after reading the letter. Something had clearly engaged her boyfriend’s mind and banished the lethargy.
“Not really.” Harry denied as he began to eat some breakfast for himself. “I did want to ask you a bit more about your research though. But we can do it a little later.”
Daphne raised one delicate eyebrow at that. “I don’t mind. But is there something specific you want to know? I could prepare my notes and examples better if you have certain questions.”
Harry smiled at Daphne but waved off his interest for later, which was slightly out of character for him. “We’ll talk a bit later when we have free time.”
“Hmm…” Fleur narrowed her beautiful blue eyes on the two of them. “You wouldn’t happen to be plotting something to get an advantage in the Third Task, would you, Harry?”
“Oh, I absolutely would.” Harry grinned at Fleur. “But that’s not what I’m going to talk to Daphne about.”
Fleur gave Harry a playful eyeroll while Tracy and Astoria cracked up in laughter. Hermione had a little smile on her lips as she saw that Harry was clearly feeling better now. Luna had sculpted her breakfast into a miniature landscape, complete with moving little blobs that were vaguely in the shape of animals.
All was right at the Ravenclaw table during breakfast again.
-Daphne’s Workroom ~ Later-
“So, Harry, what did you want to know about my research?” Daphne asked her boyfriend as she checked over a cauldron that was in the ‘stirring phase’ of the Potter Potion Pill production method.
“What do you believe it would take to create a cure for Lycanthropy?” Harry asked, seemingly out of the blue.
Daphne nearly stumbled as she spun around to face Harry. “What?!”
Harry looked at her like what he’d just asked wasn’t something that witches and wizards had been trying to figure out for centuries. “What do you believe it would take to cure Lycanthropy?” He repeated his question with a curious look.
“Hah…” Daphne sighed at Harry but at least gave it a long moment of thought before speaking. “I’d want to learn how to make the Wolfsbane Potion first, because that potion suppresses the vicious nature of a werewolf when they transform. The recipe is available, the creator: Damocles Belby, ensured it in hopes that others might be able to improve upon it. Supposedly, he’s still researching to this day to make a cheaper version of the Wolfsbane Potion, as the current one uses expensive ingredients that many werewolves can’t afford, even if they could brew it themselves. But that’s unlikely, given that the Wolfsbane Potion is supposed to be an incredibly difficult potion to brew successfully.”
“I see.” Harry hummed thoughtfully, seeing where Daphne was coming from. “While Damocles Belby is definitely a Potions Master…he’s not a Healer.” He said while looking into Daphne’s eyes. “It’s a magical infection, not a curse…even if it does share some minor similarities to a Blood Malediction in its ‘incurable/unbreakable-ness’. I believe it will take both Potions knowledge and Healing knowledge to create a true cure.”
Daphne blinked at that and considered what Harry hypothesized. “That’s…not impossible. Treating symptoms might be the limit of the Wolfsbane Potion because Belby doesn’t understand how the magical infection of lycanthropy actually works.” She took up a thinking pose for a moment before taking a step over to her book of notes and picking up her quill. She wrote down a few things, such as ‘Wolfsbane recipe’ and ‘Lycanthropy studies’ as reminders before setting her quill down again.
Harry, while Daphne had been absorbed in her own thoughts, had moved over to her cauldron and watched it brew for a moment. ‘The shade of color is a bit lighter than normal. Has she already started modifying the recipe?’ Glancing over at a jar that had a few potion pills in it, Harry had the lid off with merely a thought and one of the little round pills floating into his palm a moment later.
“What’re you doing, Harry?” Daphne questioned as she sidled up to him.
“I noticed that your current potion is a little different from the recipe I made.” Harry smiled at Daphne while holding up the pill in his hand. “This one is also a lighter color than the ones that I made.” His interest was clear as he looked into Daphne’s eyes.
Daphne had a small little grin spread across her face. “I might’ve made a slight modification or two.” She plucked the pill from Harry’s palm with a playful giggle. “This type just happens to be my first success at creating a slightly different effect.”
Harry leaned in a little, his interest clear and his green eyes practically sparkling. “How did you alter the effect? What does it do now?”
“This one doesn’t heal the entire body, like your original pill does.” Daphne answered with a little excitement seeping into her tone. “Instead, I made some adjustments to your original recipe and, after quite a few trials, managed to get this stable.” Harry leaning forward a bit more, clearly wanting to know what it did, nearly made Daphne burst into laughter. “This one focuses on internal injuries, rather than all injuries. If there’s internal bleeding or a bruised organ, this pill will work faster than your original version, taking less than half the time to heal the injured areas.”
“Brilliant.” Harry’s praise was as bright and warm as the smile on his face. “You’ve already gotten this far and you don’t have any formal instruction beyond the basics that Madam Pomfrey teaches to the helpers in the Hospital Wing.” He pulled her into a warm and gentle hug, which Daphne eagerly returned with a happy smile. “You’re amazing, Daphne.”
Daphne squeezed Harry a little tighter for a moment before pulling back with a smile. “Wait until I start my next round of tests.” She said as she flipped a few pages in her notes and showed Harry the full pages of written hypotheses, ingredients and combinations, various stirring times and directions, and even heat levels for each stage of brewing.
Harry’s eyes looked over the notes and after a moment he smiled as he realized what Daphne was going for. “A Potion Pill regiment?” He looked at her with a smile. “Heal the internal injury with the first pill, replenish lost blood with the second?”
“Sort of.” Daphne nodded as she flipped a page in her notes to show Harry the pill that would be first in the regiment she’d thought up. “The first pill…which I haven’t gotten quite right yet…will purge the body of other potions and things like venom or poison. The second one,” She held up the pill for internal injuries. “Will heal the actual injury. And the third pill that I’ll start working on next is a more potent version of the Blood-Replenishing Potion, able to not only help the body produce more blood, but also to help clean the arteries and veins while doing so to prevent things like a blood vessel burst, or worse, in the patient.”
Harry nodded as he followed along with Daphne’s plan. The regiment was sound and would definitely help save lives if it gained approval and got onto the market. “Even each individual pill is useful by itself.” He smiled at Daphne with faux suspicion. “Are you sure that you’re not trying to become the youngest Potions Master ever?”
Daphne smirked at Harry. “Maybe I will be? Then you’ll be the second youngest Potions Master ever.” Her faked haughty attitude nearly made both of them crack up into laughter.
“At least then we’d BOTH beat Snape and make him third!” Harry said with warm laughter that finally got Daphne to laugh as well, both teens imagining how red Snape’s face would be if he went from the Youngest Potions Master ever to THIRD YOUNGEST in a single summer.
“He might kick me out of Slytherin for that.” Daphne laughed brightly.
Harry pulled Daphne into his arms and rested his forehead gently against hers. “You can always come stay in my dorm.” He offered with a suggestive tone.
Daphne pecked his lips. “I can’t leave Astoria behind.”
“She can bunk with Luna, they’d both have fun with that, I’m sure.” Harry was the one that pecked Daphne’s lips this time.
“Tempting…” Daphne drew out the word teasingly, moving her lips closer to Harry’s for a proper kiss.
Harry leaned in…
Ding
Only for Daphne to nearly spin out of his arms and around him to get to her cauldron that had just finished its stirring. She began adding the last few ingredients to the simmering potion, including Honey Water, with all of her focus on completing the potion perfectly so that it could be molded into pills that would set properly.
“Blocked by a cauldron timer…” Harry mumbled to himself with a small pout, even if he would never admit to pouting about his ‘time’ with Daphne being interrupted.
“I’ll take care of you as soon as I’m done with this, Harry.” Daphne promised while looking over her shoulder at Harry with a playful—and rather sexy—little grin for her boyfriend.
Harry decided that he could be patient very quickly.
-End Chapter-
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Patience is a virtue Harry… Kek!
Daphne is progressing rather well in her creation of new Potion Pills! She’s quite the natural in the Healing Arts, it seems! Will she beat Harry to getting a Potions Mastery?
Man, can you imagine Snape’s stupid face if his greatest accomplishment got beaten TWICE in a single summer? Heh!
Could Harry or Daphne actually create a true cure to Lycanthropy? Maybe together? Or will Harry actually try to create a cure to attain his Potions Mastery over the summer?
The seemingly mundane graverobbing case that Tonks was assigned with Hestia Jones turns out to be connected to a widespread spree of graverobbing going on all across Europe! Will they find out just who did it, or will they only find out what’s going on when they see the end result of the dark and twisted machinations of the culprit?
Voldemort has completed his ritual! By sacrificing Peter Pettigrew to fuel it with his life. His new body is undead in a way that is similar to a lich, but also not quite a lich…something different, yet still just as twisted and powerful. The dead will continue to rise up and walk the earth once more.
The Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament will begin next chapter! Just how will it go?
Keep reading to find out!
Until I get your reviews, later!