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HP: The Otherworlder

An endless void. A sea of black in which the passing of time holds no meaning. Then suddenly… light. But wait, why can’t he remember his name? Why are foreign memories of a boy named Tom Riddle Jr flooding his mind? Most importantly, why does the man with red eyes staring back at him feel so dangerous? 
Enter SI OC, Edmund Cole, shoved into the body of a young Tom Riddle in the summer of 1993… DISCLAIMER: I do not own the art or the literary works upon which this fanfiction is based. All rights belong to Zara H (@za_ra_h_ on Twitter) & J.K. Rowling, respectively.

BS6SC · 書籍·文学
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94 Chs

CH38 - Danger Sense

As he roused from his state of unconsciousness, Edmund felt strange. Where before, a space at the back of his head had gone unnoticed, there was now a constant presence. The sensation he was experiencing was like he had rediscovered a part of his body that he had forgotten about. Its functionality was rusty but could be restored to full capacity with a little bit of work. Knowledge of how to use this new extension of himself was instinctive and yet foreign all at once.

Suddenly, a vibration buzzed from the area, faintly audible to Edmund, akin to a wind instrument being played from within himself. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, apprising him of an anomaly at his 7 o'clock.

He leaned forward before he could even process it, leaving way for a large branch to fly past the left of his neck, hurtling through the air limply. Edmund twirled around and stood up with a jump, instantly causing his head to throb.

'Vertigo?' he thought to himself before his legs gave up on him. 'That's new.'

A pair of hands slid underneath his arms, holding him up like a ragdoll. His stability returned in a few seconds, which Edmund took to calm himself.

"Why are you like this?" he sighed exasperatedly upon turning around to face his assailant.

"I wanted to test if it worked," the speaker shrugged apathetically.

"It did," Edmund gritted out.

"Yes, I figured that out from the lack of a lump on the back of your head," she lamented with faux disappointment.

Edmund sat himself down shakily, the dead leaves scattered about on the floor of the woods crunching with his movements. He crossed his legs, placing his elbows on his knees and cradling his head in his hands.

"It's different than I expected," he attempted to explain to the speaker. "It's like there's a companion within me, watching out for me at all times."

The speaker ruffled the hair on her head as she pondered his words.

"In a way, it is one," she reasoned gently before laughing. "Instead of being alive, however, the companion is a highly specialized pool of magic."

Edmund grunted, rolling his shoulders to relieve the stiffness that had built up there.

'Maybe I should throw down a muggle-manufactured mattress inside the ritual circle before I start next time,' he absentmindedly thought.

"It will take some getting used to. Not as much as the wampus ritual. Not nearly as much. But I will have to work harder to incorporate it into my fighting style," he decided.

"I agree. I would caution you, however, from becoming overly reliant on it, just as I did for your previous ritual. While the danger sense cannot, in theory, be fooled, it can be circumvented," the speaker warned. "For example, if you are attacked from many angles at once, you will be alerted to all of them. In the time it takes you to understand the information you are being fed, there is no telling if a strike will not have already hit you. Your mind is limited in many ways, and knowledgeable opponents will take advantage of this. That is not to mention that to those powerful enough, you having fair notice of their attack will not matter at all."

"Thank you for raining on my parade as always," Edmund sneered, though he resolved to keep her admonition in mind.

"Oh, my pleasure," she retorted with a wide smile.

"I'm glad that there are no immediate side effects, though," Edmund reiterated excitedly, ignoring her taunts. "I was going to have to up the pace of the rituals anyways, wasn't I?"

"You would have. The ritual set I have created will work best on the night of Beltane. It would be best to be done with the rest of your other mind rituals prior to that. I cannot be sure how long the batch would take for you to recover from, and I would rather not take any chances of you being out of commission for a while," the speaker affirmed.

"That ought to work out fine," Edmund dismissed. "If I include the world anchor, I have already completed three out of the seven I need to do. That leaves me with two and a half months to do three more. I'll do another as soon as I manage to obtain the ingredients and the other two together during the Easter holidays."

"A good plan," the speaker said, "but things hardly ever work out as they are supposed to."

*-*-*-*

- (Scene Break) -

*-*-*-*

'She said what?' Marvolo asked Edmund once more in disbelief.

'She offered to design a ritual set for me,' Edmund restated calmly. 'The speaker was under the impression that the benefits of her set would outweigh those of the three separate rituals I would otherwise undergo.'

'Describe her to me,' Marvolo demanded.

'Lean, but strong. She has accessories of bone covering just about every inch of her body, apparently one from each of the kills she has made. Her face has futhark runes painted all over it using her blood. Oddly, her eyes glow with white light, almost like a Lumos charm,' Edmund reported.

'And you are certain she is not just a speaker, but specifically the speaker of the Forbidden Forest's tribe? The speaker of the speakers?' Marvolo pressed.

'That's how she introduced herself,' Edmund confirmed and continued after a pause. 'I doubt any other centaur would have the guts to impersonate her, especially if they meant for me to get into contact with you.'

'You are correct,' Marvolo conceded after a few moments. 'That she knew to ask you of me at all speaks to her credibility. What else has she told you about the set she is planning?'

'Nothing. At least, nothing I can understand. She has given me tens of schematics for various runic configurations, but I cannot even begin to comprehend them. From what little I can ascertain, there are over four runic languages involved, and likely even more that I could not identify,' Edmund informed with a hint of admiration in his voice. 'She has given me her permission to owl these notes to you for your perusal. Shall I do so?'

'Yes...,' Marvolo answered immediately. 'If her intentions are pure—and I can think of no reason for her to lie—then this is truly an incredible boon you have stumbled upon... Why did you do it? Save the child, I mean?'

Edmund took a moment to formulate his thoughts, debating how best to answer the dark lord. Sticking to the truth as much as possible would be the wisest thing in the long run; lies interspersed with facts were the easiest to maintain.

'I was unaware of my surroundings during the ritual. When I came to, I could hear the younger centaur in danger not that far from my location. I wished to interrogate her to ensure she had not caught sight of me. I had only just killed the acromantula attacking her when the speaker intervened,' Edmund responded.

Voldemort definitely could not be told that Edmund had met the speaker almost a month and a half ago. The dark lord would undoubtedly demand an explanation as to why he had not been informed beforehand. Edmund would have no reasonable answer to that.

'Sensible,' Marvolo commended. 'But the speaker's actions still do not add up.'

Edmund tensed, replaying the story he had told in his head for any gaps.

'If she knew of your connection to me, why help you? If she is willing to align herself with me now, why was she not all those years ago,' Marvolo deliberated, before a surge of smug satisfaction shot through the connection. 'Perhaps she sees my rise to power as inevitable this time around. She would rather be on my good side now than be one of my enemies later,' the dark lord falsely deduced.

Edmund sighed with relief. Voldemort could not be further from the truth, but his logic was sound. Letting the dark lord believe his victory had been foretold by the speaker was not a bad result in the slightest.

'Divination is probably the reason she already knew of me as well. She must have been preparing the details of the ritual for months before she met me,' Edmund pretended to guess.

'Hmm, I would not put it past her. Her powers are strong, some of the strongest I have ever seen,' Marvolo reluctantly admitted. 'She must have taken a shine to you because of what she has seen that will come to pass.'

'It seems like it. She did lead me to Moros,' Edmund agreed.

'Ahh... Moros...' the dark lord contemplated with the slightest bit of disgust and curiosity.

Edmund had already informed the dark lord of his encounter with the beast, filling him in on the manticore's battle prowess.

'It is ironic. One of the most powerful wizards in the world must rely on another to fight for them,' Marvolo bitterly chuckled. 'But I have faith in you, my heir. You shall prevail. The chamber is almost in our grasp.'

Edmund remained silent, sending a sense of gratitude for the dark lord's belief in him over the bond.

'This Moros is a peculiar creature. I had initially planned something else for you, but perhaps... If you do manage to slay the manticore, you could use it as a sacrifice for the first of your body modifications. I will have to design it from scratch to take advantage of its shapeshifting ability, but I believe it may be worth it,' Marvolo mused.

'I will do all I can to succeed,' Edmund vowed sincerely before the connection fizzled out.

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As you may have noticed, my diction is decent, while my syntax is awful. Please do not hesitate to point out any mistakes I make with a paragraph comment or a general chapter comment!

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