Harry potter The Boy Who Remembers

Ambient magic seemed to glide off it. Nothing was truly inert in the world. There were reactions between magic, between songs, and Harry could hear them. But for some reason, the ambient magic seemed to glide off it. Oh, there was probably a limit, and too much direct magic could overwhelm the properties on the robes, but it was a very curious artefact, nonetheless.

The young Potter changed and put his wand with his clothes. He left the changing room with nothing on him but the ritual robes. He was met by the others on the way out. Everyone seemed to have a different ritual robe or at least a style of robes. Harry did look like he had the most basic ones because Blaise's were blue with a few ornaments there. But Malfoy's robe was green with snakes all over it that looked like they were alive. The blonde gave Harry a smug look. The last Potter rolled his eyes; that boy really was extremely spoilt.

When they rejoined Gemma, and he raised an eyebrow at the girls' robes. They looked more like dresses than ritual robes. Gemma, herself, was there, wearing a robe, but also with masks in her hands. They looked green and neutral, and she handed them up in silence.

Harry nodded at her and brought the mask on his head, only to feel it shape itself around his face. He looked around and saw that it was very hard to distinguish his classmates from one another – outside their gender that it.

Gemma then spoke up, "Good. Now, from now on we will not speak until the sun rises. A word of advice, do not resist the magic. It will hurt if you do. Come on let's go."

The first years then followed the prefect to what must have been the ritual room. The marble ground was cold to their naked feet. They walked up a flight of stairs and finally arrived at their destination.

It was obviously an old room illuminated only by candles that surrounded a large stone. That stone was covered in runes that Harry had never seen before. The first years followed the participants by surrounding the stone in question. When all of the first years entered the room, the door closed and merged into the wall.

The entire room was silent, both magically and in real life. Slowly, a strange woman wearing a red robe walked towards the altar at the bottom of the stone and brought a pure white rabbit in front of it. She looked around raised her hand grabbed the ritual knife that was next to the altar and stabbed the small animal in the heart.

The woman quickly returned to her place in the circle. Honestly, Harry would have been horrified by the sheer cruelty of killing such an innocent animal, but suddenly the runes started to glow and the candles' fire dimmed. Harry could feel it, the magic. He could hear it. It was one of the most beautiful and terrible things he had ever heard in his life.

It wasn't just magic. It was something different, something more. What Harry heard couldn't be called a song. It had an extra dimension or perhaps even several extra dimensions to it. Harry did his best to try to understand it but to no avail. It was mournful yet happy, angry yet sad, it was familiar in a way that he couldn't explain. It was the veil of death that was becoming nothing more than a curtain. He tried to look past it, feel past it, but felt a sense of alarm. If he tried to understand what should not be understood, to see past the veil, past what mortals ever see, then he would be forever changed, and not in a good way.

He stopped trying to figure the melody out but was worried by it trying to affect his own. No, that's not it. Harry's magic was completely fine, his very cells were somehow being filled by the magic of the ritual and he had to stifle a gasp as he realized what he was feeling. It felt like intense love and protection, a mother's love, a father's pride. Was this what was on the other side? Harry didn't remember his past life beyond its pitiful end. He didn't remember what happened after and that scared him.

Because Harry had defied death, he knew it, and it likely knew it as well. Samhain was the day of the dead and Harry, even if his mind didn't remember, his soul has experienced death. Harry could feel it being watched being judged. There was no one in front of him, but Harry could feel it. Someone was there looking into his very soul. Something old, something new, something familiar, Death was judging him, the man who defied it and the boy who remembered what he should not. Harry knew that at any second the being could snuff out his life, and take what is owed to it because he was alive, thus belonging to death.

And yet nothing came. The energy didn't hurt him, and the feeling of oppression vanished into welcome. Harry sagged in relief and relished the feeling of the magic in his body. And just like that, the candles brightened again, and the runes on the stone vanished.

The ritual was over, but his night still wasn't over. Harry stayed put, not knowing what to do. The older students started to leave, Gemma included, and the young Potter didn't know whether to follow her or not. Suddenly a bright light occurred from the stone blinding the young Slytherin.

But Harry didn't scream for the brightness of the light instead, he heard a burst of magic hit every single first year at once. And that was when the pain started. The spell, whatever that was, brought the magic from the ritual and pushed it towards his magical circuits. It felt like his blood had turned to fire going through his veins.

Harry could feel the light spread throughout his body, looking for something until he found it. It was very well hidden near his heart. The magic attempted to synergize with whatever it was it had found as if asking for permission. The thing returned some energy of its own, as if judging it, before letting the magic through. That was when the pain was magnified in its intensity and Harry was gritting his teeth to suppress the scream. But also, Harry noticed that the songs around him started to shift like something was also added.

The feeling continued for a few seconds, but it felt like hours. When the pain subsidized into soreness. Harry tried to walk only for the world to slowly darken. Mere seconds later, he fell down unconscious from the strain of what happened to him.

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