Harry Potter: New World

Chapter 244 - 244

(A/N: Want to read ahead of what I have posted so far? Go to my Patreоn and get your early access chapters :3

By becoming a patron, you'll instantly unlock access up to 40 chapters (Chapter 282 already!) ??

/HPMan

Thank you and have fun!

______________________

Lady Greengrass returned shortly after my meeting with Sirius. That meant only one thing, the continuation of the training that had taught me to transfigure everything into anything on instinct alone. The ideal and ultimate goal was to cast aside the formulas, transfiguring on will and imagination alone. In any case, magic can be considered a physical discipline to some extent. Physical in the sense that at first you have to conjure using clear instructions and formulas, but in time you won't even remember them while doing the desired transformation. It made life easier for Hermione and me that we trained our sensitivity to magic - not only knowing how to create a spell correctly but also understanding the essence of the magical circuit. This, in turn, allowed us to subconsciously look for the difference between them, to build our unique mental structures and understanding of the process, giving us the opportunity to improvise.

Time flew by unnoticeably with such studies, homework, and calculating the schemes and formulas for the magic battery project. Spring has finally and irrevocably settled in the mountains of Scotland, diluting the gloom of colors with bright shades of fresh greenery. Even the perennially gloomy coniferous forests seemed to revive, and with them, the Whomping Willow was covered in bright leaves.

We all remembered to visit Hogsmeade on the weekends, mostly sitting in the Three Broomsticks or buying trinkets in the stores. We didn't forget about the Honeydukes either, each time trying something new for ourselves, marveling at the inventions of the magical confectionery genius.

Hermione noticed what I did not notice, being in my thoughts - Fleur and some of her friends smiled at me a lot, in Hermione's opinion, and the Veela herself seemed to be evaluating. I didn't have time for that - I was thinking. But I couldn't come up with anything.

Ron stopped making any attacks on me, which made the atmosphere in the House almost perfect, and that was a happy thing.

A month before the third task, the champions were summoned to the Quidditch pitch in the evening, where the eternally happy Ludo Bagman showed us the rudiments of the maze. Only a dozen centimeters off the ground so far, the future walls of this creation had grown, but it was already clear - the entire Quidditch pitch was going to be a maze. Harry looked at this with horror, and Krum was clearly unhappy with such a sacrilege. Fleur didn't care.

"Mr. Knight," Bagman turned to me with a smile. "The judges have been asked to limit certain allowable spells. Your abilities in transfiguration are astounding, as for such a young wizard. Therefore, in order to see you in action and not just dashing around in transfiguration, it has been decided that you should not be allowed to use this skill."

"It's very kind of you to leave me a wand."

"Oh, it's not my merit," Bagman spread his arms guiltily. "One retired Auror proposed, and the others agreed."

"I see. Thanks for the warning. Most importantly - timely."

"You're welcome, Mr. Knight!"

I left the grounds of Hogwarts that evening, apparating to Grimmauld Square. Home of the Black family greeted me with more cleanliness and order, and its gloominess was no longer intimidating or suspicious but inspiring. It inspired respect.

"Max," nodded Lady Walburga from the portrait. "You, as always, without any warning."

"I'm glad to see you too, lady. Kreacher!"

With a distinctive clap, the old house-elf appeared before me.

"Kreacher greets the head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black," he bowed and straightened, awaiting orders.

"Bring me the terrible thing that Regulus Black ordered you to destroy."

Walburga stared silently with obvious interest at what was going on, and Kreacher somehow even shyly began to crumple in place.

"Excuses are not accepted. I will destroy it."

The old house-elf looked at me hopefully and then briskly dashed off to the only place he knew. He returned a few minutes later, holding an old medallion on a chain. There was so much suffering on the house-elf's face that I even felt sorry for him.

Kreacher held out the locket to me. Silently. When I took it in my hands, all I could feel was that it was magical. However, the occlumency allowed me to notice a slight pressure on my mind as if someone wanted to induce me to certain thoughts. Without a moment's hesitation, I spoke in Parseltongue: historical

"Open-s-s-s..."

The locket clicked and opened. There was nothing inside, but it didn't matter. Placing it on the floor, I quickly materialized a sword that surprised me with slight changes. The hilt, trimmed in the style of snake scales, has acquired greater relief and rigidity, becoming like the skin of a dragon. The simple shape of the guard had changed slightly, becoming more predatory and aggressive, and the blade was etched with a symbolic drawing of a dragon that, like Ouroboros, grabbed itself by the tail. What did it change? I don't know.

Concentrating on the "Destroy Soul Shard" task, I pierced the medallion just slightly. The black smoke started oozing out of it immediately, screaming wildly in the mental, almost knocking my consciousness out of my body. It screamed and scattered into sparks, burning irretrievably into space. It seemed as if it would never end, but there in the smoke appeared a hideous, noseless face and burned away, and everything around it fell silent to the ringing in my ears.

In the corner of this small room, a shivering Kreacher shrank. For a few seconds, the old house-elf couldn't realize it was over, but he stopped trembling, peeked out between the fingers he'd been hiding his face behind, and crawled reverently toward the almost undamaged locket, picking it up from the floor with shaking hands.

"Last will..." the house-elf wailed in a hoarse voice over the medallion. "The last will... of the young master..."

Kreacher was in a deranged state, so I didn't touch him. Instead, I glanced at Lady Walburga's portrait.

"He will tell himself. I must hurry," I avoided the conversation with the portrait and quickly left the house, and, entering a dark alleyway, I apparated closer to Hogwarts.