Altar

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Returning to his room, Harry sat on his bed, pondering Ayo's words. Being a disciple of Nicolas Flamel, it was natural for Ayo to share similar thoughts on the essence of magic, but Harry had his own views. He shook his head with a sigh, as he thought the more pressing matters. Despite their differences, he knew the importance of understanding the Astral Soul. Closing his eyes, Harry focused inward, diving deep into his consciousness where the disturbing image of the patched souls awaited. He steadied himself and tried to control it once again.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a faint whisper in the back of his mind, almost as if the presence of Voldemort's fragment was trying to assert itself. Ignoring the distraction, Harry concentrated harder, channeling his willpower into mastering the Astral Soul. The journey was about confronting and integrating every part of himself, even the unwanted ones. He felt the energies shift, an internal struggle playing out in the depths of his being.

Harry pushed forward, attempting to harness the light within him to overshadow the dark presence. He visualized a radiant light enveloping the twisted silhouette, trying to subdue it, but it didn't seem to work. The darkness was closing in, suffocating his soul. Breaking out of meditation, Harry panted, "The darkness seeps in when I try to tame my Astral Soul. How can I overcome this?"

He thought of all the spells he knew to overcome his current predicament, and in the end, found one. "I guess it's time to learn the Patronus Charm." Entering the Virtual Room, he willed it to create Dementors. Normally, it was Nigel who facilitated these simulations, but Harry didn't ask for help; he simply created what he wished. This was Harry's first time seeing Dementors up close. The Virtual Room's effects were too real, making the experience even more intense.

The air grew cold as the Dementors approached, and Harry felt an overwhelming sense of despair when he lowered his mental shields. His breath became visible, and he could feel the life being sucked out of him. His heart pounded, and his hands trembled as he raised his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted, but nothing happened. Panic surged through him as the Dementors closed in. "What am I doing wrong?" he asked himself, desperately trying to focus. He willed the room to keep the Dementors at bay, giving him time to think.

Harry remembered Nigel's advice about the Patronus Charm—conjuring one required a powerful, positive memory. He sifted through his memories, trying to find one strong enough to counter the darkness. He recalled moments of happiness, fleeting and distant, but none seemed potent enough.

Focusing on his most cherished memory, the feeling of freedom he experienced during his first flight on a broomstick, Harry attempted the spell again. "Expecto Patronum!" A faint wisp of light emerged from his wand but quickly faded. The Dementors' presence grew stronger, their cold tendrils creeping closer.

Frustration and fear gnawed at him, but Harry refused to give up. He closed his eyes, drawing on every ounce of willpower. He needed a stronger memory, something deeply personal and uplifting. He thought of the moment he realized he wasn't alone in the world, that he had friends who cared about him.

Harry recalled a time with Petunia, the memories flowing with unexpected warmth. His first birthday after learning he was a wizard came to mind. Back then, they weren't particularly close, but Petunia had made an effort. She'd given him a small cupcake, a a half-hearted hug and a little present. It wasn't a grand birthday cake, but it was the first he ever received, and it had meant a lot. Their relationship was still evolving, yet moments like these built a bridge between them.

Harry's thoughts then drifted to his friends. He remembered meeting Daphne, Tracey, and Neville for the first time in the boats on their way to Hogwarts. They'd seen the magnificent castle together, a sight that bonded them instantly. Over time, they became the best of friends, joined by Hermione, Susan, Hannah, and even Selena Rosier. Initially, his intentions towards them were not entirely pure, but genuine care had grown from their shared experiences. He also recalled forming friendships with the Weasley twins, Cho, Padma and Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Cedric, Draco, Theodore, Blaise, and even Pansy.

His first year had been marked by triumphs. Harry became a champion in Quidditch, flying for the first time and winning every game. That Christmas, he and Petunia visited London and Hogsmeade, even flying together. He also remembered successfully stealing the Philosopher's Stone, a heist that cemented his cunning. Before the year ended, he was recognized as the Serpent of the Crown, a title that spoke of his growing influence.

The summer had been filled with time spent with Petunia and his friends. His second year brought even more successes. He met Luna and Ginny, improved his relationship with Penelope Clearwater, and others. He created the Duelling Club, caught Peter Pettigrew, freed Sirius, faced the Basilisk, and came closer to uncovering the secrets of the Chamber of Secrets. Most importantly, almost two years ago, a strange old man had started speaking in his mind, revealing that he was a wizard with abilities beyond what his cousin and uncle could even dream of. That was the day Harry gained his freedom and his best friend...

Harry felt a deep sense of gratitude as he recounted these memories, each one strengthening his resolve. He focused on his wand, channeling the emotions these memories invoked. "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted once more. This time, a bright silver mist emerged from his wand.

"Not corporal, but better than I expected," Harry noted with a small smile, focusing on the emotions that had conjured the wisp of light. Happiness, he realized, was a unique and multifaceted concept. It wasn't just amusement or joy nor was it the mere absence of sadness; it was a deep-seated feeling tied to specific moments and memories. For him, the first time Petunia hugged him was a source of happiness, even though others might not remember such a small gesture.

He knew he had to build on this success, pushing his limits further. He practiced the Patronus Charm again and again, each time the silver mist grew stronger and more defined. His thoughts lingered on the memories that fueled the spell: his friends, his triumphs, and the small but significant gestures of care from Petunia.

As he continued, Harry's determination sharpened, as he knew the risk. He was aware of the dark fragment within him, a piece of Voldemort's soul, and the need to master his Astral Soul became even more pressing. The ancient magic of the Nigerian tribe held the key to this mastery, and Harry was ready to learn.

The next morning, Harry woke early, ready for the day's challenges. After a quick breakfast, he joined Blaise and Chieftain Obafemi, who had promised to show him a sacred place rich in magical energy. They walked through the village, the sights and sounds of daily life surrounding them. The villagers greeted them with warm smiles and respectful nods.

Obafemi led them to a secluded clearing in the forest, where the air was thick with a sense of ancient power. The clearing was surrounded by towering trees, their branches forming a natural canopy that filtered the sunlight into a soft, golden glow. In the center of the clearing stood a large stone altar, adorned with intricate carvings and symbols.

"This is a place where the veil between our world and the spiritual realm is thin," Obafemi explained, his voice reverent. "Here, you can feel the presence of the ancestors and the raw essence of magic."

Harry approached the altar, feeling a sense of awe. He could feel the energy pulsing through the air, a living, breathing force that resonated with his own magical core. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing himself to connect with the power around him.

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