The Power Within

Harry's POV

An hour later, according to his mind crew —who had been frantically trying to wake him— Harry woke. He was tied to something large, hard and cold. He peered over his shoulder and saw it was a big stone angel. He did wonder for a moment why someone would affix him to an angel, but decided it wasn't as important as finding out what was happening. He wanted to know who kidnapped him and why. That way he could make sure he paid back the correct people. Wouldn't want to kill an innocent.

He looked around and saw that he was in a graveyard. More tombstones were scattered around, many with the faded name of Riddle. He could tell it was later in the day, since the trees were dark and foreboding. They cast creepy shadows on the scene in front of him, making it look like something out of a black and white horror movie. He was just waiting for the evil villain with the handlebar mustache. What he got was a short-hooded man. He was a bit disappointed.

Harry glanced over the scene more, taking in the fact that the October wind was blowing, causing the shadows to crawl on the ground to where the main action was taking place. In the middle of the graves —and wasn't it weird that they formed a circle— sitting on a fire, was a large black cauldron. Inside the big pot was a bubbling, dark green potion. Steam was rising from the lip and billowing over and down. Making the ground look like it was covered in an eerie fog. All the scene needed was a couple of hags, stirring the brew and cackling. Again, our hero was disappointed that all he got was an unknown male wizard. Not that he wanted hags, but some hot babes would have been nice.

"Hey! You! Hooded guy! Who the fuck are you? And why the bloody hell did you bring me here? I'm not into this kinky shite. I mean really, bondage? Aren't I a little young for that? How about you untie me, and I'll be on my way," Harry called, watching the man warily as he looked over the scene trying to figure out what to do. Should he stay or go. Both had their benefits.

He tried to poof to the other side of the graveyard, so he could watch and see what was up, but the ropes seemed to be inhibiting that ability. He had a fleeting thought of taking the statue with him but decided that that would give away his hiding spot. He looked at the ground and tried to lift a rock with just a thought. Upon seeing that worked, he was relieved. It meant that he could still move shite with his mind. That'll come in handy. He knew he could leave at any time, just think the ropes away and turn into a bird. However, where was the fun in that?

While Harry watched, the short, hooded man raised a knife and cut off his hand. He then let it drop into the cauldron. The teen cringed at that, he was sure that the whole hand wasn't needed. If it was then this must be a slightly Dark ritual. Only those required such a sacrifice, the Darker the rituals got the more you had to give, until it was your life. Which made doing such magic redundant, unless it was to get revenge. Even then you weren't around to see it.

The amnesiac had done some research in the Restricted Section when they told him the Dork Lord could come back. He wanted to make sure that he knew the ways how, so he could prevent it. And while he didn't recognize this particular ceremony, he could tell that it was not something he wanted the other man to finish. He crew was frantically going over ways to stop this from being completed. It was Spock's simple logic that saw the solution.

"Flesh of the servant willingly given; you will raise your master," the creepy sounding man stated, jolting Harry from his thoughts. The now one-handed man turned and started coming towards the bound boy. A golden shield flared, keeping the man with the knife far away from the tied-up youth.

Those words proved that Harry was correct; the man was trying to resurrect someone, and the teen wizard was having none of it. So, with his mind he started levitating things into the potion. Grass, rocks, pieces of tombstones, and dirt flew from everywhere and landed in the cauldron. There were loud hissing noises when he added the consecrated dirt from the graves, proving that this was indeed a Dark ritual.

The potion started sputtering and the cauldron was shaking on its tiny legs. The toxic concoction was now bubbling over with black smoke and green sparks. Harry continued to gleefully add things, making whatever had been brewing, utterly ruined.

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