Lightwavers
Purple Noodle
- Pronouns
- they/them
[X] Lealope
Harry Potter and the Scabbard of Excalibur [AU]
TaliesinSkye
Occasional Editor
- Location
- Northeast Ohio, United States
Sorry, I feel like I missed something. What's Lealope?
Lealope
Not yet invincible
- Pronouns
- She/Her
no clue but it sure sounds suspicious
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TaliesinSkye
Occasional Editor
- Location
- Northeast Ohio, United States
Ah, a username. I feel dumb, thank you.
[X] Lealope
After a speculation in Discord, I feel it's prudent to follow up on Geist's musings - this could be a solid avenue to potentially open up a Death plot. Also see if it ties back into the Gilded King thing - on account of Snape being a spy. Otherwise the letter precaution just ends up as extra insurance.
[X] Reach out to Snape and..
-[X] Clear the air about the hospital incident and the subsequent letter
-[X] Covertly investigate if Snape's actually an undead
-[X] (to open up his story prompt and confirm Geist's suspicions - find out if he's really touched by Death)
-[X] Set up a deadman's switch in the form of a letter sent to yourself and forget that you're sending it before the meeting (to meta-confirm if he is the Gilded King and insurance)
[X] Lealope
Edit: It wouldn't matter if we're wrong though. It just means we just spend some free actions talking, getting more character interaction with Snape. Potentially opening up more direct cooperation in a future crisis.
[X] Reach out to Snape and..
-[X] Clear the air about the hospital incident and the subsequent letter
-[X] Covertly investigate if Snape's actually an undead
-[X] (to open up his story prompt and confirm Geist's suspicions - find out if he's really touched by Death)
-[X] Set up a deadman's switch in the form of a letter sent to yourself and forget that you're sending it before the meeting (to meta-confirm if he is the Gilded King and insurance)
[X] Lealope
Edit: It wouldn't matter if we're wrong though. It just means we just spend some free actions talking, getting more character interaction with Snape. Potentially opening up more direct cooperation in a future crisis.
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Rolen von Keng
Sleeping Green Bear
- Location
- The Wilderness
[X] Dedicate Yourself.
[X] Dedicate Yourself - It's not like McGonagall's demands are irrational or exceptionally difficult. She's merely demanding that you devote more time towards Transfiguration to ensure your own safety! Apply yourself and give in to her command.
If chat was willing to take the easy way out that doesn't involve hard work, then they shouldn't have picked Hufflepuff.
If chat was willing to take the easy way out that doesn't involve hard work, then they shouldn't have picked Hufflepuff.
[X] I Heard A Rumor...
Hey, our pocket dark lord said it's effective, why not?
Hey, our pocket dark lord said it's effective, why not?
There might be multiple good points as to why this is the best option, but saying that we should seek the highest effort route just because it's the highest effort route isn't one of them.
[X] Lealope
Sneaky sneaky, cheeky breeky!
Sneaky sneaky, cheeky breeky!
- Location
- Poland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Dedicate Yourself
No to anti-consent drugs.
No to anti-consent drugs.
And what about the other option mentioned in the comments?
As a side note, do keep in mind that Harry already used "anti-consent drugs" before, such as when he memory wiped Snape.
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- Location
- Poland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
There is a difference between "You will take this free healthcare and not cause me problems" and "You will drop those completely reasonable demands to my optional course request".
As for the other option... it may not be rational, but I don't want to try to weasel myself out of additional coursework.
My inner Hermione wants to do the proper thing and actually accept a teacher's challenge without dropping it for once.
It's interesting that you phrase this difference in such a way.
Also, that's not really additional coursework since we are just required to excel in whatever coursework we are doing right now, unlike the Astronomy OWL thing from earlier.
The issue here isn't the challenge, it's about the reward for the challenge putting us in an inherently disadvantageous position - that's the real crux of the matter here.
The dichotomy between pheromones and studies isn't really as important comparatively imo.
- Location
- Poland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Excelling at this subject still means getting better at it, comparied to just passing it.
And ultimately, I just really don't want to use pheromones.
Which does mean I should vote for anything that isn't pheromones, especially something so... trivial.
[X] Dedicate Yourself
[X] Give Up On Being An Animagus For Now
[X] Attempt to use the resources of the Hufflepuff Inner Circle to find a discreet mentor who will instruct you on how to become an Animagus with full confidentiality.
(also this one, since I forgot)
[X] Ask the members of the Inner Circle to avoid mentioning your Invisibility Cloak to Dumbledore and if possible, to avoid mentioning you altogether.
It does mean getting better at the existing coursework, it does not mean taking on additional coursework.
At any rate, I'm hoping that we will at least check with the inner circle for possible mentors.
I'm really not getting anyone who at least doesn't want to ask, and no one has really explained that particular point to me.
I can only assume that it's because people didn't read the thread and just voted from the original posst.
Fallen Kingdom
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Fallen Kingdom
April, a calm and uneventful Sunday, the clock striking only several minutes away from midnight. A cool gust of wind blew in through the open window, rolling the yellow-black tapestries, smelling faintly of nightsoil and salt. Tomorrow, the day would start with Potions and then Transfiguration. Any sane child would've gone to sleep.
Harry couldn't. He stared up at the ceiling, bleary-eyed, passing the night in loneliness with his own thoughts. Even Geist was resting, dreaming in a placid half-death, not quite present, yet an arm's reach away. A single call and the Dark Lord's own ghost would rise from the subconscious murk to faithfully answer his questions. He raised a hand up to the ceiling, as though attempting to blot out an invisible smear, staring at his own knuckles. He clenched his fist in a kind of emotion that he couldn't describe; a mixture of exhaustion, exasperation, and rage at his own insomnia. Then, his fist dropped back down, and he closed his eyes, grunting.
Novice Atra.
Somewhen; a forever ago, someone by that name had lived and died, in a place forgotten by legend and time. A young boy that didn't understand the impending doom of his own people. And then, his memory became a device of torture for another boy, stuck in a game of Ancients, Guardians, and Powers.
"I'm not even started, and I'm beginning to get sick of it," Harry muttered, getting up from bed. He unstoppered the herbal mixture on his bedside. Its scent was unpleasant, but he powered through and took a deep gulp of the potion. Instantly, most of his weariness and negativity faded away, like the remnants of a bad dream.
He greedily drank another mouthful, stoppered the potion, and put it back down.
"Accio," he lazily said. A map rustled, then came into his hand. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
"Accio," he said again. His glasses came into his waiting fingers, and he put them on.
He examined the hallways of the castle, with particular focus on the higher floors, and squinted in suspicion immediately. He scrolled into the dungeons, then back up to the third and fourth floor, and carefully studied the routes the black-ink feet were taking down, and his frown deepened.
The Auror patrols were irregular tonight. Everyone was patrolling solo, and it was as though none of them wanted to stay in one area for too long; moving with a kind of hurried bounce, taking long and fast strides. Occasionally, a shift supervisor would appear seemingly out of nowhere, stop one of the Aurors and converse with them for a minute, before disappearing and letting them resume. Every once in six of these conversations, the Auror would disappear alongside the supervisor instead, leaving an area unsupervised. A minute following such a disappearance, something that left behind footsteps, but didn't have a nametag attached, would slowly make its way through.
Then it'd disappear, much as it appeared. And then, it'd repeat all over again, leaving Harry transfixed for what must've been at least fifteen minutes, doing nothing but observing the motions of the Aurors against the nameless being.
He decided immediately that he wanted to see it up close, in case it was related to the Dementor event, and started gathering up his things.
A threat entity, Geist remarked, in a wistful tone.
"What?" Harry stopped in the buckling of his pants.
It's a division.
"I don't understand."
Legilimency doesn't work on it.
"Alright," Harry admitted, "That's slightly more useful."
And then, Geist was silent, as though he'd drawn on the last reserves of mental stamina. Harry continued to dress up, and then put on his Cloak of Invisibility. A small knot of anxiety appeared in his stomach at the thought that Dumbledore was keeping an eye on him, and that somehow he'd know that Harry was getting up to misadventures on midnight, especially when he wasn't supposed to, but that fear was quashed by the confidence of picking up his wand and feeling its reassuring solidity. A single line, to render apart reality and reveal its secrets to his eyes. Harry smiled, then moved up the stairs. It took him a minute to traverse the castle's dark hallways.
As he did, he observed the movements of the Aurors and noted one of them on the third floor speeding up. Harry momentarily turned and reached that Auror's position only seconds later. He followed after the old man; a silent observer of events.
The Auror, one Hector Pentelbury, spoke into a hand mirror, "It's here. I'm setting down a spike."
He reached into his robes and removed a magical device composed of many elements, partially crafted from brass and in other places, polished wood. It was remarkably familiar, and in seconds, Harry realized it was the device he'd seen in use down in the basements. Allegedly, it was the device that Dusty attempted to use against a Dementor. In spite of the Auror's name for it, Harry thought it looked more like a small pyramid with an orb at the top. A second after the 'spike' was set down, the Auror's supervisor appeared with the characteristic snap of Apparition and took his arm. Then, both men disappeared.
"Uh-oh."
Harry realized he was in the middle of a dangerous place. He unrolled the map and looked at it.
Down the same hallway that he was in, some fifty meters away, a pair of feet was approaching. As before, there was no concrete name attached. Harry looked up in alarm, but couldn't see anything in the darkness. He couldn't risk casting a Wand-Lighting Charm.
He moved away from the footsteps, in the opposite direction, and waited.
A silhouette moved in the shadows, then. A figure similar to a Dementor, but with its deeper shape indiscernible. As it moved over the spike set on the floor, its mechanisms twisted and discharged a bolt of green lightning into the figure, making it shriek lowly. Harry felt his scar pulse in sympathy.
I never told you the complete truth, but now I'm able to, Geist spoke out of nowhere. I am not the complete soul of the Dark Lord. I am a facet of his being. The kindness and human feelings that lived in him. It's only natural that I would latch onto you.
The green lightning ran through the dark cloud of the figure's body, like an electric storm through a cloud of volcanic ash. It shrieked and then swiped a claw, and the lightning was balled, dancing between its fingers, locked into an orb. It crushed the energy and then screamed in frightful rage. A dozen Aurors came in out of nowhere, a staccato of the snaps and pops of Apparition filling the empty hallway. They began to cast spells; jinxes and spirit-banishing Charms; warding and abjuration Charms. A rainbow of a hundred magical lights outlined the corridor in their lambency.
As the Aurors assigned to watching over you as a child figured out, other fragments of the Dark Lord survived the shattering event that your mother caused. I believe we've already seen one of those fragments before. You even chased it away using a water pistol, didn't you?
The Pottergeist, staring into its own reflection in the Dursley House. Harry felt a surge of pain in his scar.
As though magnetized, these fragments are now fated to eternally seek each other out; half-living until rejoined. I piggyback on your own brain to achieve sentience, but they are seldom so lucky. Naturally, the Aurors are concerned with eliminating them. If too many fragments accumulate, well... who knows what might happen?
The dark ghost, the Dark Lord's frightful remnant, dashed forward into an Auror, absorbing several curses and spells. Its malicious red eyes gleamed with sadistic joy as it came within an arm's reach of him. It slashed its claws across the man's throat, dissevering his windpipe, and leaving dark smoke flying from the wound.
An Auror moved to seize his bleeding colleague, raising a wand, and they both blurred and collapsed into a single point, disappearing in a snap of Apparition. The ghost had no interest in them, occupied with the others who'd redoubled their efforts to distract it.
Have you never considered how insane you are, Harry Potter? How mad you must appear to others? How your friends might question you should they know the manner in which you spoke to Bellatrix Lestrange? There is no telepathy involved in any of this. It's as simple as this: you're schizophrenic, yet completely lucid - sick in the mind.
Harry moved and narrowly dodged a spray of conjured arrows. They rippled through the ghost's flesh with surprising effectiveness, leaving its arms hanging loosely by threads of shadowy muscle. It roared and moved, delivering a knee into the stomach of an Auror, making the man double over and cast a spell to send himself flying back to safety.
And I am the virus that's rooted deep within you, cutting away the labyrinthal network of protections your soul builds up to consume me.
The ghost took a look at its surroundings, reading into how much the battle's turned since its beginning, and its eyes seemed to lock in on Harry momentarily before it ignored him once again. There were now six Aurors left standing against it.
I survive as a parasite, and exist only inside your soul, containing fragments of spiritual memory; and you, possessing a malleable child's mind, with all of your cognitive plasticity, managed to delude yourself into believing that I am some 'mental ghost' that speaks and reveals secrets to you. There's no such thing. Anything I tell you is something you know yourself already. I have no sentience, and the evidence for it is that only a couple of sentences ago, I claimed that I do. How could the Dark Lord, the man who nearly conquered Britain, in all his wisdom, make such a baseless and witless assertation? To double back on his own statement?
An Auror cast a powerful spell; a claw swipe that bent space around its severance lines, carving great rivulets out of the ghost's malformed corpus. Glowing ectoplasm leaked out of its wounds, like pus or blood. Its form was corroded by dark magics and a deep silence, forbidding the speaking of its name.
The answer is simple: there is no logic to anything I say because I'm simply an embodiment of all your insanity that's accumulated over time. I'm the product of a broken, shattered mind - the working of your own forebears, a son to 'defeat' a Dark Lord that can't be defeated. A repeat of Dumbledore's own insanity.
"Fantasma Fevgei!" An Auror thrust his wand, and the dark ghost disappeared into the floor.
And now we're stuck like this, in a vicious cycle of excellent self-torture.
The Aurors began to clean up the scene, getting rid of any evidence of the battle. Harry was no longer interested, returning back to his room and thinking about what he'd seen and heard. Along the way, he entered something resembling a torpid, half-dead state, no longer cognizant of himself.
He managed to find his own messy bed and returned back to sleep, capable of doing it without the slightest issue this time around.
I had a strange dream last night, he thought on the next morning.
Are you sure it was a dream? You don't normally have dreams, Geist said.
It couldn't have been anything else, he insisted.
If you insist.
---
It's time for April and May. Here's your curriculum. It's the last game turn before your Astronomy OWLs --
Astronomy (Grand Astronomy, Astronomical Markings in Alchemy, Alchemical-Astronomical Correspondence, Astrological Practice, Final Revision)
Charms (Repelling Spell, Impediment Jinx, Leg-Locker Curse, Severing Charm, personal training w/ Flitwick)
Defense Against the Dark Arts (Water Demons, Air Demons, Fire Demons, Earth Demons, Ghost & Intangible Demon Workshop)
Herbology (Comfrey, Cherries, Snakeweed, Starthistle)
History of Magic (Soap Blizzard of 1378, Werewolf Code of Conduct, Elfric the Eager, Gargoyle Strike of 1911, Uric the Oddball, Wielders of the Elder Wand, Medieval Assembly of European Wizards, International Warlock Convention of 1289, 1883 Riot at the British Ministry of Magic Headquarters)
Potions (Saltpeter, Antidote to Common Poisons, Hair-Raising Potion, Pompion Potion, Scintillating Solution, Swelling Solution)
Transfiguration (Coin-Switching Spell, Pillow to Rock, Feather to Quill, Steel to Brass, Coal to Powder)
At the moment, you've got 6.7 Gnosis.
[ ] Removal of the Accursed Name [1 Gnosis] - The name of the Dark Lord Voldemort is deprived of its magical power, and is no longer considered a taboo. As a result, the people of the world can speak it without Geist knowing, and he no longer derives any benefits from it. As a result, you can also say it as much as you want - the Dark Lord no longer possesses any significant power over the thread, although he may act disgruntled should you bully him too much. It doesn't seem like Geist cares overmuch.
[ ] Removal of the Envious Curse [1 Gnosis] - Remove the curse on the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. As Sirius appears to be holding down the fort competently, this won't have much effect, but it's still a charitable act for future generations. Geist grumbles slightly but in his usual apathy, doesn't seem to care.
[ ] Martian Malevolence Methodology [7 Gnosis] - At the moment, you've got 10 Covenant Strength to summon demons and maintain pacts with them. After this, you'll cast a ritual spell that permanently carves a channel in your soul for the holding of demonic energy - a permanent upgrade that, in essence, lets you have infinite demonic pacts. As long as you have the stamina to endlessly recite the proper rituals, and assuming there are enough of the entities you're looking for, you can assemble an effectively infinite army of demonic servants eventually. (Do remember that even relatively powerful demons don't pose much threat for a trained wizard, especially an Auror!)
[ ] A Song of Forever [5 Gnosis] - Increase your Skill with a chosen discipline of magic instantly, up to a third of a stage higher, though with modestly decreasing returns past the level of Adept. May be purchased multiple times.
Anything else you'd like to do? By default, Harry's going to focus slightly more on Transfiguration in this turn, confident enough in his skill with Astronomy to not study. (Most of the actions proposed on the last turn sadly aren't applicable for various reasons, but if you insist, Harry can look for Animagus tutoring elsewhere, in private sources.)
[ ] Write-in
April, a calm and uneventful Sunday, the clock striking only several minutes away from midnight. A cool gust of wind blew in through the open window, rolling the yellow-black tapestries, smelling faintly of nightsoil and salt. Tomorrow, the day would start with Potions and then Transfiguration. Any sane child would've gone to sleep.
Harry couldn't. He stared up at the ceiling, bleary-eyed, passing the night in loneliness with his own thoughts. Even Geist was resting, dreaming in a placid half-death, not quite present, yet an arm's reach away. A single call and the Dark Lord's own ghost would rise from the subconscious murk to faithfully answer his questions. He raised a hand up to the ceiling, as though attempting to blot out an invisible smear, staring at his own knuckles. He clenched his fist in a kind of emotion that he couldn't describe; a mixture of exhaustion, exasperation, and rage at his own insomnia. Then, his fist dropped back down, and he closed his eyes, grunting.
Novice Atra.
Somewhen; a forever ago, someone by that name had lived and died, in a place forgotten by legend and time. A young boy that didn't understand the impending doom of his own people. And then, his memory became a device of torture for another boy, stuck in a game of Ancients, Guardians, and Powers.
"I'm not even started, and I'm beginning to get sick of it," Harry muttered, getting up from bed. He unstoppered the herbal mixture on his bedside. Its scent was unpleasant, but he powered through and took a deep gulp of the potion. Instantly, most of his weariness and negativity faded away, like the remnants of a bad dream.
He greedily drank another mouthful, stoppered the potion, and put it back down.
"Accio," he lazily said. A map rustled, then came into his hand. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
"Accio," he said again. His glasses came into his waiting fingers, and he put them on.
He examined the hallways of the castle, with particular focus on the higher floors, and squinted in suspicion immediately. He scrolled into the dungeons, then back up to the third and fourth floor, and carefully studied the routes the black-ink feet were taking down, and his frown deepened.
The Auror patrols were irregular tonight. Everyone was patrolling solo, and it was as though none of them wanted to stay in one area for too long; moving with a kind of hurried bounce, taking long and fast strides. Occasionally, a shift supervisor would appear seemingly out of nowhere, stop one of the Aurors and converse with them for a minute, before disappearing and letting them resume. Every once in six of these conversations, the Auror would disappear alongside the supervisor instead, leaving an area unsupervised. A minute following such a disappearance, something that left behind footsteps, but didn't have a nametag attached, would slowly make its way through.
Then it'd disappear, much as it appeared. And then, it'd repeat all over again, leaving Harry transfixed for what must've been at least fifteen minutes, doing nothing but observing the motions of the Aurors against the nameless being.
He decided immediately that he wanted to see it up close, in case it was related to the Dementor event, and started gathering up his things.
A threat entity, Geist remarked, in a wistful tone.
"What?" Harry stopped in the buckling of his pants.
It's a division.
"I don't understand."
Legilimency doesn't work on it.
"Alright," Harry admitted, "That's slightly more useful."
And then, Geist was silent, as though he'd drawn on the last reserves of mental stamina. Harry continued to dress up, and then put on his Cloak of Invisibility. A small knot of anxiety appeared in his stomach at the thought that Dumbledore was keeping an eye on him, and that somehow he'd know that Harry was getting up to misadventures on midnight, especially when he wasn't supposed to, but that fear was quashed by the confidence of picking up his wand and feeling its reassuring solidity. A single line, to render apart reality and reveal its secrets to his eyes. Harry smiled, then moved up the stairs. It took him a minute to traverse the castle's dark hallways.
As he did, he observed the movements of the Aurors and noted one of them on the third floor speeding up. Harry momentarily turned and reached that Auror's position only seconds later. He followed after the old man; a silent observer of events.
The Auror, one Hector Pentelbury, spoke into a hand mirror, "It's here. I'm setting down a spike."
He reached into his robes and removed a magical device composed of many elements, partially crafted from brass and in other places, polished wood. It was remarkably familiar, and in seconds, Harry realized it was the device he'd seen in use down in the basements. Allegedly, it was the device that Dusty attempted to use against a Dementor. In spite of the Auror's name for it, Harry thought it looked more like a small pyramid with an orb at the top. A second after the 'spike' was set down, the Auror's supervisor appeared with the characteristic snap of Apparition and took his arm. Then, both men disappeared.
"Uh-oh."
Harry realized he was in the middle of a dangerous place. He unrolled the map and looked at it.
Down the same hallway that he was in, some fifty meters away, a pair of feet was approaching. As before, there was no concrete name attached. Harry looked up in alarm, but couldn't see anything in the darkness. He couldn't risk casting a Wand-Lighting Charm.
He moved away from the footsteps, in the opposite direction, and waited.
A silhouette moved in the shadows, then. A figure similar to a Dementor, but with its deeper shape indiscernible. As it moved over the spike set on the floor, its mechanisms twisted and discharged a bolt of green lightning into the figure, making it shriek lowly. Harry felt his scar pulse in sympathy.
I never told you the complete truth, but now I'm able to, Geist spoke out of nowhere. I am not the complete soul of the Dark Lord. I am a facet of his being. The kindness and human feelings that lived in him. It's only natural that I would latch onto you.
The green lightning ran through the dark cloud of the figure's body, like an electric storm through a cloud of volcanic ash. It shrieked and then swiped a claw, and the lightning was balled, dancing between its fingers, locked into an orb. It crushed the energy and then screamed in frightful rage. A dozen Aurors came in out of nowhere, a staccato of the snaps and pops of Apparition filling the empty hallway. They began to cast spells; jinxes and spirit-banishing Charms; warding and abjuration Charms. A rainbow of a hundred magical lights outlined the corridor in their lambency.
As the Aurors assigned to watching over you as a child figured out, other fragments of the Dark Lord survived the shattering event that your mother caused. I believe we've already seen one of those fragments before. You even chased it away using a water pistol, didn't you?
The Pottergeist, staring into its own reflection in the Dursley House. Harry felt a surge of pain in his scar.
As though magnetized, these fragments are now fated to eternally seek each other out; half-living until rejoined. I piggyback on your own brain to achieve sentience, but they are seldom so lucky. Naturally, the Aurors are concerned with eliminating them. If too many fragments accumulate, well... who knows what might happen?
The dark ghost, the Dark Lord's frightful remnant, dashed forward into an Auror, absorbing several curses and spells. Its malicious red eyes gleamed with sadistic joy as it came within an arm's reach of him. It slashed its claws across the man's throat, dissevering his windpipe, and leaving dark smoke flying from the wound.
An Auror moved to seize his bleeding colleague, raising a wand, and they both blurred and collapsed into a single point, disappearing in a snap of Apparition. The ghost had no interest in them, occupied with the others who'd redoubled their efforts to distract it.
Have you never considered how insane you are, Harry Potter? How mad you must appear to others? How your friends might question you should they know the manner in which you spoke to Bellatrix Lestrange? There is no telepathy involved in any of this. It's as simple as this: you're schizophrenic, yet completely lucid - sick in the mind.
Harry moved and narrowly dodged a spray of conjured arrows. They rippled through the ghost's flesh with surprising effectiveness, leaving its arms hanging loosely by threads of shadowy muscle. It roared and moved, delivering a knee into the stomach of an Auror, making the man double over and cast a spell to send himself flying back to safety.
And I am the virus that's rooted deep within you, cutting away the labyrinthal network of protections your soul builds up to consume me.
The ghost took a look at its surroundings, reading into how much the battle's turned since its beginning, and its eyes seemed to lock in on Harry momentarily before it ignored him once again. There were now six Aurors left standing against it.
I survive as a parasite, and exist only inside your soul, containing fragments of spiritual memory; and you, possessing a malleable child's mind, with all of your cognitive plasticity, managed to delude yourself into believing that I am some 'mental ghost' that speaks and reveals secrets to you. There's no such thing. Anything I tell you is something you know yourself already. I have no sentience, and the evidence for it is that only a couple of sentences ago, I claimed that I do. How could the Dark Lord, the man who nearly conquered Britain, in all his wisdom, make such a baseless and witless assertation? To double back on his own statement?
An Auror cast a powerful spell; a claw swipe that bent space around its severance lines, carving great rivulets out of the ghost's malformed corpus. Glowing ectoplasm leaked out of its wounds, like pus or blood. Its form was corroded by dark magics and a deep silence, forbidding the speaking of its name.
The answer is simple: there is no logic to anything I say because I'm simply an embodiment of all your insanity that's accumulated over time. I'm the product of a broken, shattered mind - the working of your own forebears, a son to 'defeat' a Dark Lord that can't be defeated. A repeat of Dumbledore's own insanity.
"Fantasma Fevgei!" An Auror thrust his wand, and the dark ghost disappeared into the floor.
And now we're stuck like this, in a vicious cycle of excellent self-torture.
The Aurors began to clean up the scene, getting rid of any evidence of the battle. Harry was no longer interested, returning back to his room and thinking about what he'd seen and heard. Along the way, he entered something resembling a torpid, half-dead state, no longer cognizant of himself.
He managed to find his own messy bed and returned back to sleep, capable of doing it without the slightest issue this time around.
I had a strange dream last night, he thought on the next morning.
Are you sure it was a dream? You don't normally have dreams, Geist said.
It couldn't have been anything else, he insisted.
If you insist.
---
It's time for April and May. Here's your curriculum. It's the last game turn before your Astronomy OWLs --
Astronomy (Grand Astronomy, Astronomical Markings in Alchemy, Alchemical-Astronomical Correspondence, Astrological Practice, Final Revision)
Charms (Repelling Spell, Impediment Jinx, Leg-Locker Curse, Severing Charm, personal training w/ Flitwick)
Defense Against the Dark Arts (Water Demons, Air Demons, Fire Demons, Earth Demons, Ghost & Intangible Demon Workshop)
Herbology (Comfrey, Cherries, Snakeweed, Starthistle)
History of Magic (Soap Blizzard of 1378, Werewolf Code of Conduct, Elfric the Eager, Gargoyle Strike of 1911, Uric the Oddball, Wielders of the Elder Wand, Medieval Assembly of European Wizards, International Warlock Convention of 1289, 1883 Riot at the British Ministry of Magic Headquarters)
Potions (Saltpeter, Antidote to Common Poisons, Hair-Raising Potion, Pompion Potion, Scintillating Solution, Swelling Solution)
Transfiguration (Coin-Switching Spell, Pillow to Rock, Feather to Quill, Steel to Brass, Coal to Powder)
At the moment, you've got 6.7 Gnosis.
[ ] Removal of the Accursed Name [1 Gnosis] - The name of the Dark Lord Voldemort is deprived of its magical power, and is no longer considered a taboo. As a result, the people of the world can speak it without Geist knowing, and he no longer derives any benefits from it. As a result, you can also say it as much as you want - the Dark Lord no longer possesses any significant power over the thread, although he may act disgruntled should you bully him too much. It doesn't seem like Geist cares overmuch.
[ ] Removal of the Envious Curse [1 Gnosis] - Remove the curse on the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. As Sirius appears to be holding down the fort competently, this won't have much effect, but it's still a charitable act for future generations. Geist grumbles slightly but in his usual apathy, doesn't seem to care.
[ ] Martian Malevolence Methodology [7 Gnosis] - At the moment, you've got 10 Covenant Strength to summon demons and maintain pacts with them. After this, you'll cast a ritual spell that permanently carves a channel in your soul for the holding of demonic energy - a permanent upgrade that, in essence, lets you have infinite demonic pacts. As long as you have the stamina to endlessly recite the proper rituals, and assuming there are enough of the entities you're looking for, you can assemble an effectively infinite army of demonic servants eventually. (Do remember that even relatively powerful demons don't pose much threat for a trained wizard, especially an Auror!)
[ ] A Song of Forever [5 Gnosis] - Increase your Skill with a chosen discipline of magic instantly, up to a third of a stage higher, though with modestly decreasing returns past the level of Adept. May be purchased multiple times.
Anything else you'd like to do? By default, Harry's going to focus slightly more on Transfiguration in this turn, confident enough in his skill with Astronomy to not study. (Most of the actions proposed on the last turn sadly aren't applicable for various reasons, but if you insist, Harry can look for Animagus tutoring elsewhere, in private sources.)
[ ] Write-in
