Penthuisiast
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SD: CH52 - Enigma
🕑 Added 2023-04-02 19:45:37 +0000 UTCIt was like someone had just slammed a row of staples into my skin. Pain soared into my body, inflamed tissue crying out, my heart throbbing, my ribs cracking, the edemas beneath my skin pounding with a horrible tightness. Fatigue hit me like a rock. The sensations were so intense, the only way I could tell that I had fallen to the floor was by looking.
And my body abruptly went numb and useless from my stomach down.
That scared the hell out of me and confirmed my worst fears. When I activated the Natural Demon perk, it had magically enhanced my body to operate at a state that was physically impossible otherwise. A werewolf could move at the speeds I did because, apart from the physiological changes introduced by the transformation, a werewolf had a lot more raw magic flooding through its veins to keep fatigue away for the period of transformation. It was why Hermione was sick for days after her first full moon.
But I, in my arrogance, had pushed my body to operate at the same level purely through a magical boost without the transformative changes, and then exhausted the entirety of my reserves and then some. When the perk shut down, two things happened. The first was that all that fatigue, all that wear and tear, every single bruise and every single injury screamed out for action, in a body devoid of magic. If you think that’s terrible, wait for the second thing, which goes something like this.
I’m going to say it just once, so make sure you memorise it.
Perks are not Free Lunch.
Much like a spell or a ritual, a perk is a magical action that requires a fuel source, which, nine times out of ten, is provided by the Host. When I shut the perk down, the stupid thing instantly demanded its fuel from my body — my magically exhausted body. If you can’t imagine what that’s like, imagine draining out blood from a severe anaemic patient.
I lay on the ground, my spine unmoving, my body denying me all control over my legs or bladder or bowels. It felt like a week, but it could have been only a few seconds before Amelia reached my side, with Susan right behind her. I knew they were there because I could see them, but their voices swam down to me from what seemed like a great distance among the cacophony of raking sensations scouring my nervous system. They lifted me to a sitting position, and I slid sideward, directly into Amelia’s lap. And as if all this wasn’t damaging enough, the Screen folded open before me, displaying a warning in an alarming shade of red.
Host Body under severe magical exhaustion 34% damage to magical core
A horrible, helpless feeling gripped me. 34% damage to my magical core? Just moments ago, Amelia had been commenting on my power levels being off the charts. And this wasn’t just reduction, this was core damage, something that turned completely normal wizards to squibs.
And I had brought it upon myself. Tears escaped my eyes as I tried to twist my body into obeying my orders. It didn’t work. Nothing was happening. I needed an alternative.
Replenishing attempt Unsuccessful Running Scan… Altering Replenishment Procedure…
Reducing magical affinities by 17% can reduce damage to 14% Proceed?
17%? From each? I might as well just return to the beginning of the summer. All my training, all my plans, all my… world anchors, all of them, would be for nothing. Throwing 17% would reduce the damage to 14%. Knowing my luck, it would take twice that to bring it down to zero. At that point, I might as well return to Square One. It’d mean that all my learning, all my training — everything would be useless. I wouldn’t be able to perform Walburga’s ritual by the end of the month, and all my plans with Narcissa would go down the drain. In one sweeping move, I’d lose everything.
Had lost everything. Because unless I did that, I’d forever suffer from a damaged magical core and whatever complications came with it. All of that for what? To impress someone? I needed my strength back. I needed to get back to where I was. But how? Minus a miracle, I had no way to—
I paused.
Technically, I could pull off a miracle. In the screen’s vocab, it was called Meta-Luck.
Do you wish to use Meta-Luck?
A surge of terror shot through me. The last time I had used it, it had set the World Anchor's minimal limit to 15. If not for Romilda, it would kick me out of this reality. I had no idea what the results would be this time around.
But as they say, beggars can’t be choosers.
Do you wish to use Meta-Luck?
Yes. Damnit. Anything was better than being like this. I wanted to return my body to exactly how it was before I used the Natural Demon.
Meta-Luck is being deployed
A rush of… something surged through me, made my body vibrate like the plucked string of a guitar, and I jerked into a brief, violent contortion. There was a strange fire in my broken bones, and the numbness in my spine suddenly vanished, while my body bowed into my violent bow, every muscle trying to tear its way off to my bones as a jolt of terrible, sweet power flowed through my nerves. A lightning bolt hit my chest, an agonising ribbon of silver power that felt too great and too terrible to be contained within a single body, returning control back to me.
And just like that, I knew I had achieved my miracle.
Consumed Meta-Luck Units: 23
Remaining Meta-Luck: 34.2
My body still felt like it had been electrocuted. Every single nerve flared. It was like being subjected to Dracos’s cruciatus all over again. But no worries. Given the alternative, I’d take the cruciatus ten times over.
“Harry!” I heard Amelia speak. She was trying to hold me up over the last several minutes, but without success. This time, I grabbed her arm and sat up straight.
“I… I’m fine. Just… it hurts.”
“Obviously it does, you dolt!” said Susan. “You exhausted yourself and then some. What kind of idiot does that?”
“Susan!” Amelia barked. “He’s our guest, and he’s already in pain. He needs rest.” She grabbed me softly, but firmly. “Where does it hurt?”
“My skin,” I murmured. “It burns.”
“That’ll be the magical exhaustion hitting,” she murmured. “You — you need a hot bath. That’ll get you sorted in a jiffy.”
“SKIP!” Susan yelled, as a pop sounded nearby. I didn’t bother turning my head, which was hurting like hell, but I heard Susan relaying orders to an elf to get my bath ready. I tried to stand up, but staggered and nearly fell down again, but Amelia caught me.
“Okay, you’re in no position to walk. Grab onto me, I’ll take you!”
“I can manage!” I said and staggered again.
“Yes,” Amelia drawled. “I can see that.”
Magical Core Status: Unharmed
Magical Capacity Status: Full
I ignored her dry wit and focussed on the screen. It seemed my bargain had worked. That alone was enough to make me leap with joy. Maybe I would have, if I was all by myself, and not standing with Amelia’s help.
So saying, she threw my right hand over her shoulder and slowly trudged me out of the room. The view of her cleavage from this angle would have gotten me hard, if not for the fear I was feeling for what was about to follow.
Meta-Luck Deployment Complete
You have altered Fate for a second time. Allotted title: RULE-BREAKER.
Against my better judgement, I checked out what that meant.
Title: RULE-BREAKER
You have denied the effects of your own Destiny, shrugging off the effects of your own predetermined existence.
EFFECTS
Required World Anchorage raised to 35 Perk DOMINO EFFECT added
A perk? The System had actually granted me a Perk for using Meta-Luck? That the power had brought me back from being a vegetable to perfect physical and magical health and now it was awarding me, felt like getting an additional discount for winning a discount.
I really should stop looking gift horses in the mouth. Else, I might get punched by the fist coming out of its gullet.
Perk — DOMINO EFFECT
You’ve used Meta-Luck to alter your future and cause a systematic chain reaction, starting from small occurrences to large effects, diverging further away from their predetermined destinies. In doing so, you have affected the destinies of your World Anchors. None of their fates are now set in stone.
EFFECTS
CHILD OF PROPHECY perk applied to all associations with 50% world anchorage or higher.
I… might have spoken a bit too quickly. Domino Effect sounded less of a Perk and more like a warning that my knowledge of canon was about to become less relevant than last week’s used tissue paper. The Child of Prophecy perk brought about a 50% increased chance of encountering significant entities in this world, and if it affected my top anchors, then they’d be attracting significant attention, which would mean that I would attract even more attention. Both positive and negative.
This could be dangerous. And profitable. Just like the old days.
I smiled. Yeah, I could work with that.
“That darn grin better not be because of this,” Amelia warned me. “DMLE Director carrying a schoolboy to the bathroom. As if I didn’t have enough of this as a cadet.”
“Sorry,” I apologised, “I’m being such a bother.”
“Nonsense!” she scoffed. “It was my mistake, letting a newbie get carried away on Auror's equipment. What was I thinking? I should’ve stopped the machine after the first five minutes.”
“Maybe you were awed by my performance?”
“Enough with your cheek!” She said, “and yes, it was a good show. You’ve got a lot of potential, Potter.”
She smiled, the dimples in her cheek made her look not much older than Susan. She held me against her shoulder, while opening the bathroom door with her other hand and got me in. I grabbed the edges of the hot tub and looked at her expectantly.
“What?” she asked.
“I need to disrobe,” I said, looking at her and then at the door.
Amelia looked at me, conflict in her eyes, before she took a step forward, barely inches away from me. Her wildflower smell hit my nostrils. She flicked her wand and the bathroom door closed with a snap. Then she grabbed the top button on my shirt.
Normally, I’d have taken this as a sign of progress. But this was no school girl or submissive eatery owner. This wasn’t sex-starved Narcissa Malfoy either. The DMLE Director was a sharp woman with a sharper duelling skill and instinct, and she hadn’t shown even a single sign that could be construed as sexual interest.
“... what are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” She snapped. Then, in a calmer voice, she said. “You’re suffering from magical exhaustion and you can barely stand. How do you think you’ll get out of those robes?”
“But—”
“I’m an adult,” she claimed. “As are you, Lord Potter. So deal with this like adults.” She unbuttoned me with careful precision and tugged the front of my shirt before stripping it off and undoing my pants. I’d have called this extremely hot if not for the mechanical tone with which she did it, as she pulled my pants down as I stepped out of them. With a flick of her wand, she banished my clothes to the stand, leaving me in just my boxers. If she noticed the tent forming against my boxers, she didn’t comment on it and instead helped me step into the bath.
I lay back against it, luxuriating, the water churning to a controlled froth by jets that hit me from dozens of angles. The water was at that perfect temperature, a little short of scalding my skin, and the heat sinking into muscle and bone, warming me deliciously and washing the aches away.
“Feel better?” she asked.
The surface of the bath had enough in the way of bubbles and froth to be opaque, so I pushed myself back and got rid of the boxers.
“Much better.” I told her. “The clothes were pricking my skin.”
“Standard effects of magical exhaustion,” she waved off. “It flares the nerve-endings and makes one extremely sensitive to touch. Not unlike the effects of a low-powered cruciatus, as I am certain you can relate?”
I gave her a slow nod. Amelia didn’t look like she was in a hurry. Instead, she cast a quick impervious charm on her clothes and sat down beside the tub, her legs together and to one side, her hands folded on her lap. I stared at her for a long minute and then said, “It’s not your fault.”
“Excuse me?”
“You live in a castle that’s surrounded by enough magical wards and defences that they make the Ministry of Magic look like a common marketplace. Given the oak forests and the hit-wizards you’ve chosen for your protection, you’re constantly worried about the intentions of others. You also have this habit of compulsively blaming yourself for whatever wrongs happen to those that depend on you, regardless of the circumstances, whether it be the situation with the DMLE or a guest stupidly landing himself in magical exhaustion.”
A slow grin crawled across her full lips, completely transforming her face. “Are you reading me, Mr. Potter?”
“Yes,” I replied easily. “As have you, I’d wager. So why don’t you ask me?”
She curled an eyebrow.
“It’s obvious that you will not leave until I’m done bathing. I’ll probably need help to get dry and wear my clothes. And it’s obvious you’ve got questions,” I told her. “If we are spending a little time here, you might as well ask them now.”
She gave me a curt nod in acknowledgement. “Perceptive. But you’re wrong there, Harry. I have questions, but I prefer solving them myself. I’m merely trying to draw a profile of what I’ve learned of you this far.”
Deciding to appease my curiosity, I relaxed back into the tub, raising my hands out of it, and met her gaze. “And what does my profile say?”
That grin again. “You’re an enigma, Harry Potter. You have been raised by magic-hating relatives for the most impressionable years of your life. By rights, you should be an emotional cripple if not borderline psychotic. That your friends for the first three years at Hogwarts have been an emotionally stunted Ronald Weasley and… to put things indelicately, a bookworm, Hermione Granger, definitely points to the former. Knowledge of your history as the Boy-Who-Lived and the tragedy of what happened to your parents could have caused a survivor’s guilt mindset. Maybe a desire to play the part of the boy-hero, as a way for your dead parents to live vicariously through you. Gaining your inheritance could have rekindled your desires, which explains a sudden desire to involve yourself in your family business. That you hired someone following the recommendations of an Auror speaks of your lack of reticence in trusting people with your problems, but you’re also quick to study them beforehand before deciding to trust them. You obviously knew Miss Tonks, probably through your authority as Lord Conditional of Black. That you trusted me with your memories, supplied the evidence and came clean with your agendas shows you as a person who’s an excellent judge of character, and nonchalant about using others. Or a person who is too confident in his resources and his ability to shape events to his liking.”
I grinned back. “Why the enigma?”
“Because the rest of it makes little sense!” she responded hotly. “I can understand meeting the Boy-Who-Lived, the last scion of Potter who’s willing to trust the DMLE Director enough to come clean with his motives. It probably helps that your motives are aligned with the betterment of the DMLE and against the Dark Lord. But you — this you — you’re anything but an emotional cripple. Your plans reveal a meticulous mind seasoned with playing the predator and not the victim, a far away from the borderline psychotic personality. You make grand, sweeping statements, and are not worried about getting your hands dirty, including cladding yourself with moral authority if it improves your case, not because it is the right thing to do, but because it is the most efficient thing to do. That you’re so confident about leveraging your work to the point of brazenness speaks of a Hufflepuff attitude while your skill at arranging matters reveals a sharp Slytherin side. You choose to study what you think best, uncaring about your academic performance. One would call that a Ravenclaw-ish mind, but you pursue knowledge for the sake of ambition, and not knowledge. The person who is sitting in front of me is entirely different from the person in the dossier I have about you. And don’t even get me started on your performance earlier.”
I continued to smile at her, as though I was only intrigued and not freaked out. I was certain that Amelia wanted to freak me out.
“Hence,” she finished. “Enigma.”
“I think,” I said, “that once you get to know people from the inside, they all reveal conflicting parts of their personality. Even you are not an exception.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” said Amelia.
“Do you?” I challenged her. “You come across as intimidating and busy, even though it is pretty obvious that taking time out for your family and those you consider dear is an important part of your life. You are, in all honesty, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen and the Regent of an Ancient and Noble House. Yet you’ve focussed solely on your job and climbed the ladder with sheer diligence. That means you are alone by choice, and have probably dismissed any attention sent your way.”
She folded her arms; her smile widening. Her gaze felt predatory, as if challenging me to go on.
Naturally, I took her on.
“At first glance, one’d think you’re too feminist for your own good. At second glance, you’re someone who’s hard to get close to because trust isn’t something you share too often. You grab at anything and everything that helps you trust others, even if it is something as subtle as wand woods. Not because you’re a poor judge of character, because it lets you pass the blame onto something else just in case you get betrayed. Your closed-off nature keeps you from getting hurt by people, but it also keeps you from having anyone in your life. At night, when you close your eyes and allow yourself to be vulnerable… that’s the only time you dare to wonder what it’d be like to be with someone.”
Amelia swallowed. I had hit it on the spot. For someone on her level, being so easily readable was a no-no. Her entire demeanour suggested that she had trained against it. Now I considered myself a decent reader of people, but Hestia’s perk was taking it to another level.
Maybe I should take her to the dungeon again. She loved it.
“The Bones mascot is a crup,” went on. “Yet, I don’t see a single dog in this house. It’s like you wouldn’t allow yourself to get attached to any animal when you know you’ll most likely outlive it and have to deal with the heartbreak of losing the pet. You’re detached by necessity, most likely by the painful past, and it’s pushed you in this direction. Your past has pushed you into emotional solitude, but you stay there by choice.”
She flinched. I’m sure she’d have taken a step back if she were standing. Her eyes dilated, and she stared at me with a mix of apprehension, curiosity and fear. There was something else too, but I couldn’t really decipher it.
“Sorry… I went too far,” I said, as if I had just not unravelled her confidence with one pull on the right thread. Her eyes were stuck at mine, and I smiled, throwing her a casual grin. It broke the tension, and an unexpected smile faltered its way into her lips.
“No,” she said, “it’s fine. You’re a man full of surprises, Harry Potter.”
“Full of surprises and stuck in this bath,” I replied. “My hands and legs seem to have fallen asleep.”
She arched an eyebrow at me, and then threw her head back and laughed.
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