It's All Just Temporary with a Bit of Necromancy

Chapter 13: It's Just Strategy

Last night, he had reached his center for the first time but he hadn't interacted with it. So it was a little easier today to seek out the warmth he remembered feeling. Closing his eyes, Harry inwardly searched for the deadly green flame that looked more like a caged wildfire. Reaching it, Harry touched the flames and took a shaky breath at the overpowering rush it gave him. It set each of his nerves aflame in the most comforting embrace.

Determined to not lose himself in the touch of his own magic, Harry concentrated. Mentally pinching and dragging forth a flickering tendril, bringing it to the surface. His magic didn't seem to like being corralled. It fought to rush the opening he was giving it with all it had but Harry held firm. He could feel the sweat trickling down his face but he ignored it. If he couldn't control his own magic then what hope does he have? Taking another deep breath, he focused his control. He wasn't sure how long it took to finally beat his magic into submission but he managed it and when he felt the icy fire tickling his skin once more the soothing balm it provided was immediate. He opened his eyes and stared at the rose bush.

Concentrate. Breathe. In. Out. Concentrate.

The book described the action as calling on the life force of whatever he wished. Calling on it and drawing it to himself. It was easier with touch and easier to control but it could be done without it. Focusing on one flower head, sweat gathering on his brow and neck, his back and buttocks were stiff and sore from his position but he couldn't focus on that. The heady feeling was returning and his mind was becoming detached, so he knew things were going right, but he couldn't lose control, he couldn't bask in the feeling of power.

Slowly, like a fisherman with a fish on a hook, he reeled in what he was sure was the roses life source. It looked like a faintly shimmering aura if he looked hard. Apparently, this ability would increase with practice. It seemed to be working though because as he watched, the petals began to shrivel, the vibrant color began to fade. It happened faster than Harry would have liked that the rose was nothing more than a dry, wrinkled, brown crust.

Harry let out a laugh of celebration, punching the sky in victory. He had done it! He had controlled it! And the itching and burning had ceased.

His sigh of relief turned to one of dismay when he saw that it wasn't just the flower head but the entire rose bush that had died and a few of the roses on the nearby bushes had started to fade as well. Not quite as good but he still controlled his magic and that was what mattered at the moment. He didn't know how to return Life yet but he hoped to return the rose bush to its former glory once again.

"Impressive," the voice jolted Harry out of his observation. He untwisted his limbs and turned to see Marvolo standing a few feet away with Avery and two men he recognized as the Lestrange brothers.

Harry grimaced. "Eh, I meant to just do a flower, not the whole bush." Avery and the Lestrange brothers did not look comforted as they eyed the dead rose bush. "Oh well, practice makes perfect, eh?" Harry continued easily, enjoying the Death Eaters discomfort. "I trust you have something of value to report?"

"Yes, Sir," Avery replied looking far too eager to please for a middle-aged man.

"Excellent. To the library?" he asked Marvolo who dipped his head and turned to walk. Harry easily caught up and walked beside him with the three Death Eaters trailing them. It was another indicator of Harry's place ahead of them but he didn't find himself shying away from the statement.

"It was still an impressive feat of skill, despite it not going as you wished," Marvolo commented in Parseltongue.

"Thanks. I look forward to continued improvement," Harry replied easily, his ability with Parseltongue was definitely improving since his arrival. The compliment still felt strange though. "I will restore the bush when I learn how."