Penthuisiast
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SD: CH44 - Resolve
🕑 Added 2023-03-26 21:29:25 +0000 UTCIn the desolate depths of a perilous place
The bogeyman lurks, with a snarl on his face.
Never dare, never dare to approach his dark lair
For he’s waiting… just waiting… to get you.
The bathroom floor was swept in red.
The pain was mostly gone. Just a few weeks ago, those cilice teeth had been weeping in agony. Now it was just silence, listening to the sound of my breath, feeling the darkness seep into me as the relic gorged upon my blood and magic. Few weeks ago, I fell unconscious right after casting the healing spell. Now? I stood there, my hands against the wall. My legs weren’t even shaking, the dark energy communing with the power of Natural Demon perk.
I waited until every single trace of blood had left my body. I had sealed off the sink, letting the bloodied water stagnate upon the floor. Switching off the shower, I grabbed my wand and charmed the waste water into a magically enlarged bucket. Once done, I vanished the contents entirely, leaving not a single bit of residue behind.
No. Not paranoid. I was using the bathroom inside Grimmauld Place, the ancestral home of the Blacks. A House infamous for its curses and black magic. There was no saying what one could do with discarded bits of my body.
Or blood. Especially blood.
The scars upon my chest were already fading, though the colour was still a mix of dark purple and angry pink. Another day, this would have been something to worry about. Today, I barely noticed it.
My mind was too busy rocking in turbulence to do anything else. Thinking about my past. Thinking about how I couldn’t remember any names, including my own.
I had a brother, even though his name escaped me, the details of his life did not. Born first, he had the advantage of gaining world experience and the responsibility of expanding the family fortune. I remember watching from the shadows, as he quarrelled with my father — a man I could not remember, much less name— defending me, as my father spoke of my criminal behaviour. I remember him promising that everything would be okay, as I got sent to boarding school. The things I learnt there — languages, economics, business, philosophy, physics, chemistry, law. A world of rules. Of punishment. Of strength.
My father wanted to drown me in studies. Maybe he thought I’d crack. Maybe he thought I’d commit suicide. Maybe he thought he could remake me into something new.
I smiled at the thought.
It was almost a decade before I met my elder brother again. My bastard of a father had died of an ulcer. Nasty thing, I tell you. My mother, the whore, had left with a younger guy.
The family fortune rested on his hands now.
And Mine.
I remember how he smiled and hugged me. And it was genuine. Every. Little. Bit.
It was just how he was. He’d give me everything. Everything I wanted. All I had to do was ask him for it.
I hated every second of it. Every time I had to ask, it made me feel… less. Every time he fulfilled my requests, my anger grew just a tad more. Every time he smiled at me, I felt like I owed him.
But I got my vengeance. The last time I asked something of him, he didn’t smile. How could he?
You couldn’t smile and say ‘I forgive you’ after I had slit your throat. Could you?
He skulks in the shadows, relentless and wild
In his search for a tender, delectable child.
With his steely sharp claws and his slavering jaws
Oh he’s waiting… just waiting… to get you.
I know what you’re thinking. Is this guy crazy? Trust me, I’m not crazy. You’re crazy for thinking I’d be anything like Harry Potter. You’re crazy for painting me with some anti-hero stereotype. If you only knew the things I had done, the things I had left behind in my wake, you’d have prayed to those merciless gods for ending my story right where it began.
But yes, I suppose I am a bit crazy. How else would I have acted the way I did?
The anger I felt at Tracey’s helplessness.
The disdain on my face for Pureblood bigotry.
The desire in my heart to correct the wrongs of this world.
That was not me. So… why? Why did I — why was I acting like that? This world was fictional, but very real at the same time. Somewhere along the line, I had accepted this world as real, and with the rising anchorage, entrenching myself to this new reality. Could it be that in doing so, I was intrinsically rejecting my past life? Rejecting my ‘history’? Was that what was causing this retrograde amnesia?
And if so, just how much would I lose? How long before I forgot myself completely to become Harry Potter?
The thought was not pleasant. This… this was wrong. This wasn’t me. If only I could find a way to get my memories back. Get all of it back.
Do you wish to use Meta-Luck?
Tempting. Meta-Luck was sitting at a comfortable 51.4. Just ten points had been enough to twist my life from rotting at the Dursleys to owning an apartment and reasonable freedom from Albus Dumbledore. Just what could over five times that value do for me?
Tempting. Very tempting.
But no. The last time I had used it, I had gotten stuck with a permanent negative dragging my World Anchorage down. But that was because I didn’t have any world anchors to rely on.
Mmm. Maybe I’ll try them later.
I checked my stats.
AFFINITY
Transfiguration — 42%
Charms — 66%
Martial Magic — 59%
Dark Arts — 71%
Psychomancy — 15%
Alchemy — 21%
Spatial Magic — 36%
Magical Analytics — 23%
Magical Sensing - 14%
PERKS
Child of Prophecy, Outlander, Defiant, Horcrux, Librarian of Knowledge, Curse Born, Natural Demon, Devil’s Charm.
Everything looked good. My affinity for the Dark Arts and Charms had skyrocketed, with Martial Magic running a close third. Now that I had Narcissa on my side, I could use her expertise to elevate my own skills in those subjects. Spatial magic was still a work in progress, but psychomancy was my greatest weakness right now. If not for Defiant perk saving my arse, every motherfucker with two-bit legilimency could make me their bitch.
But nothing gave a clue to solving my amnesia.
I checked the other perks.
PERK — OUTLANDER
Ability to see the Rules that govern this world on your Screen. You lucky dog! Everyone else is playing Trial and Error!
EFFECTS
Gain affinities from others by increasing World Anchors
World Anchors… That was the source of this giant mess. I checked deeper.
WORLD ANCHOR
A number representing how strongly you are tethered to reality.
“And what—” I stopped myself, realising where I was. For all I knew, Walburga was eavesdropping on me.
What does that mean?
You are an Outlander. An alien to this Reality. World Anchors are bonds you share with existences that are part of this reality.
I already knew that.
What happens to my past reality as my world anchors grow?
Increasing anchorage to current reality disintegrates ties to another.
A shiver ran down my spine.
When does it disintegrate completely?
Insufficient Data
I narrowed my eyes. This was the first time the Screen had shown something like this. But maybe, maybe I could tackle it differently?
Is there… Is there an optimal anchorage value?
This time the results were more defined.
1000
A thousand. Well, I wasn’t sure if the number held any special significance or was simply part of game mechanics. Either way, it made things easier to calculate.
Show me my current anchorage.
Displaying Current World Anchorage
Romilda Vane — 17% — Boosting required within 4 days
Ginny Weasley — 53%
Hermione Granger — 100%
Dobby — 43%
Hestia Jones — 42%
Tracey Davis — 9% — Boosting required within 6 days
Narcissa Malfoy — 82%
Hannah Abbott — 14%
Cynthia Abbott — 31%
Current Anchorage (Total) : 391
Boosting? What the hell was that?
Adding World Anchorage to existing parties through tantric sex rituals.
World Anchors less than 50% require boosting at periodic intervals or else they begin to disintegrate at 1/day.
This just kept on giving. But still, four days? six? You’d think a system as complex as this would have some kind of reminder alarm system within it.
Alarm Option Available.
Cost — 2 Meta-Luck
Enable?
I rolled my eyes. No thanks.
There was more information.
Total World Anchorage :
I looked back at my list. Tracey I could manage, but Romilda? Chances of me getting to her within the next four days were not zero, but the sheer effort wouldn’t be worth it. I didn’t even like Romilda. She was hot, and a good lay, and absolutely helped me out of my first tight spot in this world, but that’s about it. It’s a cruel reality, but sometimes, we simply don’t like people. Not because they’re evil or boring, but in much the same way some people don’t like chocolate, or why others prefer bourbon over scotch. It’s simply a matter of taste. I could easily replace her with someone new, or maybe raise Hannah or Tracey’s anchorage to counter Romilda’s. Even if I missed Tracey, I could always restart the process for her. The anchorage wouldn’t cancel our ongoing deal. With the Child of Prophecy perk active, my chances of meeting new people were always high.
I ran my fingers through my scalp. What a strange dichotomy I had found myself in. If I raised my world anchorage to a thousand, I’d probably forget more than just names from my past life. This world— this fictional world, would become my reality. On the other hand, if I didn’t, then I’d not become powerful enough to face the problem awaiting me at the end of summer.
I was conspiring with Narcissa to kill her husband. I was fucking Hestia, trying to turn her into my spy against Albus Dumbledore, all the while using her skills and my fortune to stir Broderick Greengrass’s nest. And in the middle of this was my plan to manipulate Amelia Bones in the very near future.
All of which, in one way or another, aimed to solve the problem awaiting at the end.
Lord Voldemort.
I also couldn’t trust my knowledge of canon. My past life’s memory was fading. And I couldn’t trust whatever this Screen system wanted from me.
If you were me, would you bet on me?
No, right? I don’t blame you. Unfortunately, you don’t know me. Don’t know who I was.
And neither did this world.
But soon. Very soon, it would find out.
Many have entered his dreary domain
but not even one has been heard from again.
They no doubt made a feast for the butchering beast
and he’s waiting… just waiting… to get you.
…
…
…
“You’re progressing nicely,” said Walburga Black in appraisal. “The cilice is ready for the ritual. The power and blood requirements have been met. That you are standing here is proof in itself.”
I arched an eyebrow. Regardless of our arrangement, I had not invited Narcissa to Grimmauld Place. Narcissa had been too proud to ask that of me, and I was simply too paranoid to invite her in. Besides, Walburga would’ve told her everything either way.
“I don’t understand. I’ve done what I’ve done the last time, and everytime before that.”
Walburga threw her head back and cackled. “You think it was the same? That cilice guzzles away your blood and magic, and unleashes its curses into your bloodstream. With every single session, the curses in your blood accumulate, and the cilice drinks deeper and poisons your soul, drawing far, far more than your blood and magic.”
I stared at her, speechless.
“Despite that, you have persevered through it, and have grown stronger and stronger, when you should’ve been growing weaker and weaker. I hid your progress from you, trying to test your limits, and you didn’t disappoint me.”
I knew what she was talking about. The World Anchors. With the gradual rise in anchorage, my affinity for different aspects of magic had continued to grow. I did not know if it also impacted my magical capacity — assuming there was such a thing, but it was the only explanation that made any sense. That meant that if I could gain some more anchorage before the summer ended, it’d play wonderfully in my favour.
Especially if I wanted to kill Lucius Malfoy. And finish the ritual. Which would also hasten the anchorage growth.
Motherfucker. I was damned both ways, wasn’t I?
But that was fine. If I had to throw away my memories, if I had to reject my past life to become Harry Potter, then Harry Potter I’d be. The Harry Potter that wizarding Britain, nay, the Wizarding World, would come to fear. I was given these powers for a reason, so if I don’t make a change, then who will? No, I’m the only person who can do it.
And I will.
With Meta-Luck, I will change the world, change History itself. And only then, will this world start moving in the right direction, filled with people whom I’ve judged worthy to live in it. Voldemort might have been the most dangerous Dark Lord in recent history, but I….
I’ll become the God of this new world.
“What do you need me to do?”
Walburga looked at me with appreciation. “Ideally, I’d prefer one more session before we progress to the ritual, but it is time we move into the second aspect of the preparation.”
“Which is?”
“The ritual with the cilice will grant you the great and terrible power of the yenaldooshi. It is time you began learning the curses you can use as one.”
“You mean—”
Walburga’s ethereal eyes glinted with morbid satisfaction. “It is time you began learning the Black Family Magic.”
