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SD: CH129 - Ritual
🕑 Added 2024-10-04 18:44:33 +0000 UTCThe end of the line had arrived.
I stared, slowly, at the body in front of me, watching the lights go out of Lucius’s eyes once and for all, feeling Lucius’s soul get dragged out of his body, and merge into the ritual circle below, activating it, right as Narcissa screamed, knowing that her husband had ruined everything for her right at the moment of his death.
Part of me could not believe that I had actually come this far. Part of me did not believe that I had actually done it. Part of me was still waiting for Lucius to somehow rise up, and snort, telling me how I was a fool for thinking I could be rid of him that easily.
Yet, none of those things happened.
He was Dead.
Humiliating Draco, gaining political power, resources, and fucking side-characters , even those as relevant as Amelia Bones and Narcissa Malfoy was one thing. But aside from Voldemort, Dumbledore and potentially Dolores Umbridge, Lucius Malfoy was about as central as far as characters in the Harry Potter world went. The summer before the fourth year would mark the resurgence of Voldemort, with the Third Task spelling the rebirth of the most dangerous Dark Lord in recent history. Everything that happened in the canonic fifth year, from Fudge’s open hostility to Dolores Umbridge, Lucius was the linchpin around which the events had orchestrated.
And now he was dead.
At my hands.
Before all of that could even begin.
If I was worried over just how much my knowledge of Canon events mattered before, it was pretty much useless now. With Lucius dead and gone, I had effectively created a massive vacuum. The massive loss of life, especially on the DMLE end and the Death Eater camp would only make things worse. The sheer number of werewolves that were killed in the zone would lead to other werewolf packs to avoid Britain for a while, and that was ignoring the world-wide negative reactions on lycanthropes for their role in this madness.
The wealthy Death-Eaters that hadn’t participated in the World Cup attack would come in to grab Lucius’s legacy. Those that lost significant manpower and finances would get desperate. The Dark faction would crumble to pieces without adequate management, and most under-the-table deals would come to a screeching halt until things were better.
Or until things went even more chaotic.
“Harry,” said Walburga. “Get on with it. Begin the ritual. Once it reaches an impetus, you will chant the aria, when the yenaldooshi arrives, offer the sacrifices in the belt to exchange it with Ni’ Hodithil. Be warned, the yenaldooshi spirit is a predator, both physically and spiritually. Once the sacrifice is accepted by Ni’ Hodithil, and the spirit completely shifts to your body, it will be a battle of wills. Remember, you must not let it prey upon you. If you do, then all will be lost.”
“And if that happens,” said Narcissa. “I’ll cut you down before you break out of the Circle and kill me.”
Her wand sparked angrily.
“Noted,” I said, and sat down at the centre, cross-legged, and closed my eyes, as if in meditation. Despite the events happening all night, a soft, serene smile formed on my lips.
Walburga had taught me that in the transitory realm between the physical and the spiritual, animal spirits had an overwhelming advantage against the human mind. Magic was emotion, and animal spirits, that ran on emotion and instinct, were far more potent than the human mind, that always attempted to rationalise their actions, no matter how flimsy their excuse was.
The yenaldooshi was a predator, and after all the emotional turmoils I had been through, there was always a chance it would find a chink in my armor and corrupt me from within, and pull me down into the depths of spiritual purgatory. And while the Incubus Lord was a powerful demon of its own, its power did not share the same zip code as the yenaldooshi.
“Harry,” Walburga frowned. ‘What are you doing?”
“Improvising.”
Switching Paths…
Activating Path NECROMANCER
Registering Affinities…
Binding…
Welcome, Necromancer!
And the reaction was instantaneous.
Walburga instantly pulled back by several feet. Narcissa too, had stood up, and was staring at me in apprehension, her wand raised.
I paid them no mind. A whirling sensation erupted out of me, like the world had been caught in a gale, only there was no wind. I had done something similar just hours ago, in the middle of the burning stadium, invoking the spirits of the dying and the dead, churning them, twisting them, robbing them off their sanctity, their wholeness, and disintegrating them into nothing but fragments for me to reforge into Amelia’s soul. This time, things were simpler, but far more focussed.
Black, sludge-like fumes branched out of my body and sunk down the ritual circle, coating the mercury with a shade of jet black.
“INGWAZ!”
The last time, Ingwaz had set up the soul churning process. This time, the wardstones emitted an intense bright light, and an intense feeling of vertigo threatened me for several seconds, as the tiny wardstones guzzled through the magic gathered in the wardstone fueling the wards of the Black townhouse. The entire house let out a loud, mechanical groan, and several pieces of furniture crashed down to the floor, shattering to pieces. Cracks formed on the walls, and an inky blackness began to spread through it.
“What — what is happening?” asked Narcissa, and I noted the fear seeping in her voice with amusement.
“What you wanted for all this time,” I said, opening my eyes. “I am about to become the Black Lord.”
The groaning vanished after the tenth or eleventh second, as the wardstone sunk deep in the dungeon below, began pulling more energy from the leyline below, to balance the sudden energy expenditure. Within the next minute, things were looking stable.
“You — that — I recognize that stench. It’s — it’s necromancy! You’re a necromancer!” exclaimed Narcissa.
“Accursed magic!” spat Walburga. But then in the same vein, she went on. “But powerful! Powerful! So powerful!”
“Accursed,” I agreed. “But it’s also the same power that is the bedrock of Voldemort’s existence. Is it not? Power and potential of this degree requires an appreciative audience, not sycophantic brutes of followers that have no idea of what their Lord is truly capable of.”
“You —” Narcissa began. “You —”
“I’m not Lord Voldemort, Narcissa,” I smiled.
“It’s like you said, Walburga. The yenaldooshi is a predatory spirit. Let’s see how it fares against that which hunts spirits.”
“ANSUZ!”
The rune of communication opened the doors to the Ni’Hodithil, the First Dark World, and the ritual began in earnest.
Those that existed in the spiritual realm were often of great power, enough to make the likes of Dumbledore and Voldemort look little more than mindless annoyances. But for all their power, they came with their fair share of vulnerabilities.
Like the inability to defy a summoner when invoked through a Ritual Circle.
Of course, there was always the chance of them snapping the summoner’s neck or worse, possessing the summoner itself, but that didn’t negate the fact that they had to answer the call.
“Hear me,” I said. “I am the child of the Coyote. I bind and I eat, I curse and I kill,
On this accursed night, I call upon those waiting in Ni’Hodithil.”
The energy prevailing in the entire house, and particularly inside the Circle, was far, far different than the one during the time I had invoked the principles of Incarneum to resurrect Amelia as my Lyctor. The power here was less inherently evil, but it was wilder, more dangerous, more predictable.
Night was a time of endings. To the sensitive mind, it was like a completely different setting than the daytime. As an ‘accomplished’ necromancer, courtesy to the horcrux, I could sense the forces of the spirit world, hanging over me like a pallor. Spirits, ghosts, wraiths, wild things that haunted the world, energies that were drawn to death and decay, mostly unseen by mortal eyes.
The prison was built and the trap was set. The material was rare and meticulously arranged, but it was still within the realm of possibility to build a circle from which even a being like the yenaldooshi could not lightly escape.
So I shut my doubts into a closet in the back of my mind, along with my fears. With deep breaths, I envisioned myself drawing in power with each breath, and exhaling weakness and distraction. I felt the magic stirring around me and within me as I did, and I started building up my will, gathering my strength for use, until the mercury below began glowing a distinct otherworldly purple and the hairs on my neck rose on end. Taking a final breath, I opened my mouth, and continued to call out in the steady cadence of the summoning.
“To the First of the Dark, I offer the dead, the dying, the suffering, the cursed,
On this night, I become your vessel,”
Walburga’s tutelage had also granted me a fair amount of appreciation for Astronomy, and its related discipline, Astromancy. On the twenty-third of August, the Sun had moved into Virgo, a condition that invoked the surge of practicality and attention to come to the forefront of one’s mind. This transition allowed one to integrate the insights gained by Mercury’s retrograde into tangible routines to transform oneself.
And tonight, on the twenty-eight of August, the Mercury retrograde in Leo was ending, beginning the Virgo season, bringing clarity, order and transformation.
I wouldn’t say it was the perfect night to pull off this ritual. Samhain or Beltane would probably have been a better option, especially the potency it would offer the summoning ritual. On the other hand, the sheer number of spiritual predators out on that night would be exponentially high. My blood and magic would be in the spiritual waters, and the sharks would come sniffing.
In that respect, this was much better.
My voice went louder.
“FROM THE DARK I CALL YOU. INTO THE DARK I CALL YOU….”
The words of the chant tolled inside my head. I realised that I couldn’t stop now, not even if I wanted to.
“I CALL YOU WITH NAMES, OH MY LORD! OH MY LORD!
I SUMMON WITH POISON—”
The necromantic energies swirled around me malevolently, yet nothing about it could match the power building inside the Circle.
“—AND I SUMMON WITH PAIN.”
The athame that had struck Lucius down in the heart flew up and pierced me in the chest. My eyes bulged, and a scream threatened to tear through my throat.
But I resisted.
It was not piercing my heart, just impaling my chest to touch the blood flowing beneath. Like an ethereal hand, fumes of necromantic energy connected the athame’s hilt with the altar, pulsing with eldritch energy.
“I OPEN THE WAY, AND I OPEN THE GATES….”
One moment the circle was empty. Then there was a flash of lightning slamming upon the ritual circle and scattering around in a hissing matrix of electricity and magic, defining the entire Circle as silver borders rose from all sides, entrapping me. I barely stopped myself from flinching and breaking off the summoning chant—a mistake that would have destroyed everything at best, or gotten me horribly killed at worst. But I recovered myself and kept up the litany all the way through to the end.
My voice rang hollow in the darkness of the Black manor, muffled but strong, and I poured every bit of my will into the words, until the power in them began to make the air ripple around them as they flowed from my lips. There, in the darkness, I reached into the spirit world to call up one of the deadliest beings out there.
“COME!”
And Yenaldooshi answered.
It was like a disembodied black shadow, easily nine feet tall, but with little physical presence to cast it. All I could see were twin gleams of purplish ambers for eyes, and a raw, wild hunger pressed against the outside of my skin. I could feel the yenaldooshi’s lust for the wild night, to hunt, to kill everything this world had to provide and more.
I’m here. I want to hunt. Release me.
The words suddenly appeared in my head without going through my ears, scarlet and glowing and scalding. This time I did flinch as the yenaldooshi’s will sent meaning into my thoughts like a well-thrown spear. I tore my attention away from that lance of thought and spoke aloud in reply.
“I will not release you.”
The glowing eyes snapped back to me, flaring larger and brighter.
I am no beast to be lured and trapped, mortal. Set me free and join me in the hunt.
Images came with the thoughts this time— a world of blasted cities, of smoke, of tears, of screams. Blood ran in the gutters rather than water. And columns of greasy black smoke rose from altars, from buildings, from shrines decorated with skulls and crusted with the blood of sacrifices. And in the middle of that was the raw hunger I felt in my belly, the strength and power of my body and the glorious thrill of the chase as the prey fled as it was created to do, while a storm of endless bloodbath raged around me. It was a primaeval mind, one that had no business existing in the modern, civilised world of witches and wizards, and it would return the world back to the time when humans dared not venture out of their caves for fearing of losing their lives. That sheer desire for carnage, the terror, the death, the blood, the destruction, the senseless chaos fueling an excitement, of passion, of savage harmony red in tooth and claw — that was what the yenaldooshi was.
Blood was its art.
Screams were its music.
Horror was its faith.
We are not foes. Blood of my blood. Kin of my Kin. Release me.
“No,” I growled. “I will not release you.”
With a flick of my hand, the cilice belt levitated upwards and dropped itself upon the altar. And in doing so, I activated the exchange.
Within the next second, the yenaldooshi’s form turned corporeal, and I could truly see it for what it was. A nine-foot tall nightmarish blend of beast and shadow. Its heavily muscled frame bulged out beneath its black fur, which rippled, as if alive, with smoke-like tendrils curling out of it. Its eyes stared into my soul, and in them, O could see warped, twisted visions of being torn apart by its massive hands and razor-sharp claws.
Man suffers. Man dies. It is how things are. Your mortal shell cannot hold me. Release me, and join me in my hunt, lest I prey upon you.
I believed the creature.
Trust me, even with everything I had at my arsenal, I could win. No chance in hell. If I fought, I’d die. If I attempted to run away, the barriers would stop me and I’d die. If I stood there, I’d die. There was only one thing I could do and that was try to restrain the spirit by any means necessary.
Becoming the Lord Black better give me something more than just a vault full of gold and a stupid seat at the Wizengamot after this.
“I will. Not. Release you.”
Quite naturally, the first blow came right after.
Then, suffer.
And then the yenaldooshi roared, a deafening sound, and the floor began to tremble as it lashed against the Circle. It was an enormous struggle, controlling it, and almost hopeless. I felt like a man straining to push a car up a hill. Not only was it a difficult weight to begin to move, but a greater force was working against me, and if I allowed it to move even an inch it would begin to gain momentum and crush me beneath it.
So I fought for that inch, refusing to give it to him. The yenaldooshi, despite its appearance, wasn’t physical, and by enacting the exchange of my sacrifice for its spirit, I had effectively trapped it in the real world. It might be a force of nature, power and violence without conscience and restraint, but it would be a spirit regardless, and weakened the moment the first rays of sunlight lit up the sky.
The yenaldooshi was a predatory spirit, and I, a mortal, necromancer or otherwise, had made it feel fear.
The well-justified reaction followed suit.
LET
I was flung off like a ragdoll and hit my back against the silver barrier holding the ritual circle off. The barrier was empowered with the raw energy from the wardstones, and I’d be smashed and turned to paste long before the barriers would crack.
ME
Which was bad for the yenaldooshi and far, far, worse for me.
OUT!
An invisible fog suffocated my senses, warping my sense of reality. The air grew thick, the light in my vision vanished, and my world was collapsing inward. The fumes of necromancy could work on souls, but this was both more and less than that — spiritual enough to possess me once it had smashed my will into smithereens, and yet corporeal enough to ignore the tendrils of my necromantic power attempting to undo its soul.
LET! ME! OUT!
LET! ME! OUT!
LET! ME —
Every single hit felt like an unstoppable force hitting an object attempting to be immovable with every bit of its strength. Everything felt spinny. Empty. I think I heard a scream, and it took me a while to realise that it was probably me.
The next thing I knew, the creature slammed into me, and then the screen flashed with an alarming red.
Body approaching magical exhaustion
Impossible! This bloody creature was literally eating my necromantic energies, and growing stronger. It tore at my perceptions, flooding them with random images and smells and sensations. It was like standing in a sandstorm, only instead of inflicting pain, every random grain forced you through an experience, a memory, so disjointed and intense and rapid that there was nothing to focus on, to hold on to.
Darkness overwhelmed my vision.
I thought I heard Narcissa yelling in the background.
I heard the sound of claws and waited for the end to draw near, wondering if dying would be quicker and easier than falling asleep. And then —
And then —
And then my world was inundated with light.
The darkness vanished, replaced by images of flashes of things he had definitely not imagined.
Amelia, sitting with Susan at their dinner table, with Susan softly caressing the small bump on her aunt’s belly. The smiles on both of their faces brightened up the entire room.
Emmeline looking at a letter, sent by her little boy from Hogwarts. A hand, with the Potter and Black rings glinting on the fingers, grabbed her softly by her stomach, moving to her cleavage. She sighed in elation.
Hestia, screaming her lungs out as she hung in the dungeon, naked. “More!” she said. “Give me more.”
The images followed. Every single one of them belonged to one of my anchors. People that lusted, no, loved me. Wanted me to be part of their lives, wanted me to be the most important person in their lives, and wanted to stand by me no matter the cost. And with that, came an image that was strong enough to hold all the rest together.
I found that image.
Me. Sitting on a massive throne. And standing all around me were women I knew — Amelia, Emmeline, Hestia, Anastasia, even Narcissa. There were silhouettes of countless other women in the background, some I could make out, and others that seemed quite familiar. All of that, inside one grand room, inside a grand edifice that felt less like a building and more like a shrine.
A shrine of a God.
A God of —
I smiled at the image. With everything else happening, I had almost forgotten one simple fact. The necromancer was powerful, but he stood alone. In life and in death. And against a creature like the yenaldooshi, it would spell his doom. But what if I wasn’t alone.
Smiling, I focussed on that one image. And that was enough.
If the yenaldooshi shredded away everything else I had, this would be enough to build on.
The storm of the entity’s will raged. But I found myself standing in the eye of the hurricane with the most quiet, defiant smile that had ever landed on my face.
The world came back to me.
Switching Paths…
Activating Path INCUBUS LORD
Registering Affinities…
Binding…
Welcome, Incubus Lord!
“I. WILL. NOT. RELEASE. YOU!”
I snarled out every single word, the creature shrieking in outrage as it attempted to find a weakened spot in my spirit to tear away. My left eardrum exploded. Or maybe imploded.
Whatever, it wasn’t there anymore. The world turned into one of those barrel rides where they spin so fast you stick to the wall. Only I didn’t have a wall to lean on.
I had my anchors.
The vast form of my defiance, my anchors arose like a tower of gold and dense purple, crashing down upon the yenaldooshi spirit that screamed once more. It enfolded the creature in its vast, implacable form, slowly pulling it down into the ritual circle. The yenaldooshi fought, but its strength was spent. It was like watching a seagull get pulled down by something big and dark and unseen — a desperate struggle with a foregone conclusion. Not because the yenaldooshi wasn’t strong enough to shatter through my offence and the ritual circle, but because this was what the ritual circle did. This was the purpose of its creation. Ant-lions aren’t that much stronger than ants.
But ant-lions kill ants. It's what they do.
It's what the ritual circle did.
THRUM! THRUM! THRUM! THRUM! THRUM!
Maybe it was the sound of the energies colliding. Maybe it was the sheer defiance of the predator meeting its match against an equally dangerous foe. Maybe it was just the sound of my heart beating furiously. Either way, I watched as the yenaldooshi spirit was dragged into the ritual circle, getting assimilated into the mercury, and finally sent through the tendrils rising out of it, through the athame directly into my mind.
And right then, the Screen lit up with a brand new notification.
Congratulations! You have gained a Title — BLACKENED PRIEST
You have gained a new Perk — CURSES WITHOUT END
You have gained a new Perk — LORDING AROUND
You have gained a new Perk — SHAPESHIFTING
And that was not all. In fact, it was barely the beginning.
Related perks found in existing Schematics!
Do you wish to combine Perk - Malevolent Release with Perk - Shapeshifting?
I blinked. Unless I was absolutely mistaken, Malevolent Release itself was the upgraded form of the Natural Demon perk, the one I had gotten from Hermione’s nature as a twisted werewolf variant. And now it was about to be combined with yet another perk to become something more?
Go on. I said. Do it.
Your perks MALEVOLENT RELEASE and SHAPESHIFTING have combined to form an Upgraded Perk!
PERK — MAGICAL ANIMAGUS
Why settle for just fur when you can have fire and flair?
EFFECTS
By assimilating the spirit of the yenaldooshi successfully, User has gained access to a unique magical animagus form.
+50% affinity for Eidolonics
As soon as I digested that information, the Screen lit up with a dozen different notifications, several of which involved details about the wardstone operating at the base of the Black townhouse, as well as a litany of data that could only be an accounting of the house. If I didn’t know any better, it was like the house itself was doing its best to unveil every single bit of its secrets to me with the same zeal as a fanatic preaching for his church.
And then I realised it.
“My Lord,” said Narcissa and Walburga together, genuflecting almost instantaneously.
Perk - LORDING AROUND
Why fight the System when you can own it?
EFFECTS
User becomes the undisputed Master of his domain. He exudes authority so effortlessly that even the most stubborn of dissenters find themselves nodding along.
Temporarily elevates Interest Level by 15 units.
Temporarily decreases Difficulty Level by 1 Rank.
Neat.
“My felicitations, my Lord,” said Walburga, courtesying. “My job in this realm is finally over. That curse that Arcturus saddled me with, I can finally feel its effects dissipating. It has been an absolute pleasure teaching you, and seeing you grow, Lord Black. Finally, I can rest knowing I have redeemed myself before my ancestors.”
“Not so quick,” I said, standing up, feeling the barriers around me flicker and vanish. “If you remember, I had questions to ask you, Walburga Black. Answers that you denied. Answers that I won’t be denied any longer.”
Walburga’s eyes glittered with pride.
“Ask it.”
“Tell me what happened to Kreacher and Regulus Black.”
Comments
Alkole
Thanks for the chapter
Sweet Potato
banger chapter, def hope to see emmeline again soon lol
JustAFan
🔥
