GamerFiction
patreon
Harry Potter: The Artisan's Path Chapter 75
🕑 Added 2024-06-12 13:32:31 +0000 UTCHi all,
Here’s the Artisan Path chapter, finally. The Pokemon chapter will be out tomorrow evening
Chapter 75
Harry drew his wand and focused on casting the parselmagic diagnostic spell on Pierre. The spell was complex and required intense concentration, but Harry knew it was his best chance of determining the properties of the poison used in the attempted assassination.
As he chanted the incantation, Harry experienced the familiar sensation of power coursing through him. Parselmagic always felt a little different from traditional magic. It always gave him a feeling of euphoria.
He closed his eyes and visualised the poison, hoping the magic would reveal its secrets to him. Harry gasped as a voice hissed whispered words within his mind, revealing the chemical composition of the poison, its effects on the body, and even its possible sources. It was all said in parseltongue.
The spell had manifested in an unexpected manner. The book didn’t mention anything about a voice.
“Who are you?” Harry asked mentally, thinking he was crazy for even asking the question.
“What a curious question. Why do you think I have a name?”
Harry froze. “Let me rephrase. What are you? The spell said nothing about a voice whispering the answer in my head.”
“Let’s just say I’m a consequence of you learning parseltongue magic.”
“Salazar didn’t mention anything about it in any of his books.”
“That’s because he probably didn’t experience the same phenomenon. I wonder why you are different.”
“You tell me! You seem to know what’s going on!”
The voice didn’t answer.
“Maybe I’m different because I’m going crazy? Hearing voices in my head can’t be good.”
“Yes. That’s a reasonable explanation.”
“Shut up.”
“Well, did you find out anything?” Snape asked impatiently, snapping Harry out of his reverie.
Harry opened his eyes and gave the man a list of the properties.
Snape muttered to himself, his brow creased in concentration. “The poison sounds familiar, but I can’t seem to recall the name.”
He drew a pouch out of his robes and pulled out several books from it. He passed one of the books over to Daphne. “Search the book for any poisons that have at least three of the properties Harry mentioned and have symptoms similar to the withering curse.”
Daphne followed his orders. Since Harry was no longer required, he drew Gabrielle into his arms and waited for Snape to come up with a solution.
He reflected on the new wrinkle in his life, wondering if he was going insane because he was hearing voices in his head. Perhaps he imagined the whole thing. Parseltongue magic wasn’t supposed to manifest this way, or so he thought. What exactly could he call this phenomenon? Why didn't it manifest earlier? Was there a prerequisite condition? Perhaps he should search Salazar's library for an explanation.
For the next several minutes, the only sound in the room was the frantic flipping of pages.
“I think I have something,” Daphne announced, showing Snape an entry in the book. “Some of the details are different, but there are enough similarities that it could have been used as the base before it was modified.”
Snape nodded. “It explains why I couldn’t recognise it right away. Someone with a lot of skill in potions has modified the poison. Judging by how fast it worked, it has been a lot more potent.”
“Can you make an antidote?” Apolline asked desperately. “Pierre was fed a bezoar, but not even that cured him.”
"Although it does counteract many poisons, there are some exceptions," Snape explained. He then turned to Healer Matisse. "I require a quiet space to brew some potions."
"We have a designated potion-making room," Healer Matisse replied. "Please follow me."
"Daphne, you can assist me," Snape instructed.
Daphne nodded and followed him out of the room.
A few minutes later, Seraphine stormed into the room, her anger barely contained. She drew Apolline and Gabrielle into her arms, comforting them as they cried into her shoulder.
"What do we know about the perpetrators of this attack so far?" Seraphine demanded.
"We are still in the dark," Apolline admitted. "The Aurors are investigating the chefs who prepared Pierre's meals, but there are no leads yet."
"Could this be the work of Obsidian?" Seraphine inquired. "They have a history of using poison against high-profile targets that are hard to get to."
"They are certainly a prime suspect," Harry said. “But I doubt the Aurors will find anything if they are responsible.”
Seraphine's gaze sharpened. "Then I shall conduct my own investigation. How is Pierre faring?"
"We have identified the poison, or at least a version of it, thanks to Harry," Gabrielle said. "Snape and Daphne are currently researching an antidote. But it might be too late if they don’t find one soon."
"The Death Eater?" Seraphine spat. "Why should I trust my son-in-law's life to one of those bastards?"
Harry was taken aback by the revelation. He had never been fond of Snape, but he hadn't expected him to be one of Voldemort’s followers.
Minerva winced. "He was once a Death Eater. Albus claimed he turned spy..."
"When was the last time you relied on the former headmaster's words?" Seraphine retorted.
"Snape may have been a Death Eater," Harry interjected, "but his actions are driven by self-interest. If he successfully cures the French Prime Minister, he will earn a significant favour. There's no benefit for Snape in harming Pierre, and any suspicious behaviour would likely be noticed by Daphne."
Seraphine nodded. "Then I will withhold my judgement. But if he hurts Pierre in any way, I will use my flames to slowly roast him alive.”
Harry shuddered, sensing the seriousness of her threat.
Pierre's condition deteriorated over the following hours. Healer Matisse utilised all his skills to sustain him, but it was evident that Pierre's time was running out without an antidote. Harry attempted to console Gabrielle, who was withdrawing into herself. He had looked through the book he had brought to see if there were any spells that could delay the poison, but he had found nothing useful. He even attempted to speak to the voice in his head, but it remained silent.
An hour later, Snape and Daphne burst back into the room, looking exhausted and covered in soot. Everyone watched anxiously as Pierre was administered the antidote they had prepared.
"We'll know soon enough if the antidote has been effective," Snape said.
As they watched on in tense anticipation, Pierre's condition gradually improved. A hint of colour returned to his cheeks, and his breathing eased.
Healer Matisse conducted a thorough diagnostic spell, and looked visibly relieved by the results. "Pierre's condition has stabilised. If this progress continues, he should be out of danger within the next hour. It appears that the antidote has indeed worked."
Harry smiled as Gabrielle rushed to join her family at her father's bedside. They needed a moment to celebrate his recovery amongst themselves.
"Look at the relief and happiness you've brought to the family by saving his life," Harry remarked to Snape. "Isn't that a far more rewarding feeling than being a Death Eater and causing harm to innocent people?"
Snape shot him a look of anger.
"Harry!" Daphne exclaimed, giving his shoulder a sharp slap. "That's not how you express gratitude for saving someone's life."
Harry grunted. "You're right. I suppose I owe you one, Professor Snape. How much will it cost me?”
Snape’s mouth twitched, as if he were going to smile. This time, it was his grandmother who reprimanded him for being rude.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Gilderoy paused when he saw Draco in the seventh-floor corridor leading towards the headmaster's office. The boy's behaviour was strange. Draco seemed agitated, pacing back and forth while repeatedly glancing at an empty section of the wall. After observing this ritual for a few moments, Gilderoy approached him.
Gilderoy had avoided Draco since convincing him to attack Harry Potter during the Quidditch match. He believed Draco wouldn't be of much use to him anymore, since Obsidian had instructed him to halt his attempts on Harry's life. However, after his recent cryptic conversation with Eight, his perspective might be shifting. Although Eight hadn’t given him a specific mission, he had been told to keep an eye on a first-year girl until further instructions were given.
Gilderoy wasn’t sure what Obsidian wanted with Ginny Weasley, but it didn’t matter. His primary goal was to regain favour with Obsidian by carrying out any mission they assigned him.
"Draco," Gilderoy called out as he approached, causing the boy to spin around to face him. For a brief moment, Gilderoy thought he saw Draco's eyes flash an eerie red colour, but the next second, they appeared normal. Dismissing it as a trick of the light, Gilderoy inquired, "What are you doing?"
Draco appeared puzzled for a brief moment. Gilderoy noticed, with disapproval, that the boy showed signs of neglect in his appearance—disheveled hair and dark circles under his eyes. It was evident that something weighed heavily on the boy's mind.
Draco’s eyes focused as he got a hold of himself. "Nothing, Professor Lockhart. I was just feeling frustrated about something."
Gilderoy offered a comforting gesture, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Come now, Draco. If there's something troubling you, I'm here to listen."
Draco shrugged off Gilderoy's hand. "It's nothing, just family matters.
"Has this got anything to do with your mother?"
“Don’t speak to me about that whore,” Draco hissed bitterly. “This is all her fault. If she didn’t cheat on my…”
Draco's words trailed off, his anger palpable. Gilderoy frowned, a sense of alarm rising in his mind. He had a good idea what the boy was about to say, and recognised the gravity of the situation. Did Lucius know about Narcissa's affair with him?
Seizing Draco's shoulders, Gilderoy inquired urgently, "What do you mean, Draco? Narcissa wouldn't betray Lucius."
"You're mistaken," Draco retorted, pushing Gilderoy's hands away. "My father knows. He's threatening to divorce her, and I might not even—"
"Does Lucius know who she's involved with?" Gilderoy interrupted.
Draco's gaze narrowed. "Why is this any of your business?"
"I'm worried for you," Gilderoy fibbed. "Lucius can be ruthless. If he discovers the man involved, both he and your mother could be in danger."
Draco dismissed Gilderoy's concern, brushing past him and hurrying down the corridor.
Gilderoy watched him leave with an anxious expression. Perhaps he should contact Naracissa to find out what was happening. He hoped she wasn’t thinking about giving his name away to save herself, but he had no doubts she would do it in a heartbeat if it helped her. If Lucius discovered that he was having an affair with his wife, he wouldn’t hesitate to exact his revenge.
Gilderoy continued to the headmaster's office. Flitwick had been summoning him frequently lately, questioning his performance as a professor. It was annoying. It wasn’t like he was interested in teaching a bunch of brats, but he was forced to put up a pretence.
Perhaps he should cut his losses and leave before another mission is imposed upon him. The strain of maintaining his facade was becoming unbearable, and he questioned how much more he could endure.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
6th December
Charlus stood among the ruins of the Potter Mansion. Although he had cleared out some of it, he hadn’t had much time to work on it due to other pressing matters. Since Pierre's attack, the order has been focused on identifying the perpetrators. Moody was following up on a promising lead, so all they could do was wait and see what he discovered.
Since he had some down time, he decided to focus on making some progress on the mansion. The mansion had been destroyed in a brutal attack by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, leaving nothing but rubble and memories of the once-beautiful estate. But he wanted to bring it back to its former glory.
Charlus cleared out some of the rubble with a wave of his wand. As he worked, Charlus thought about the recent conversation he had with the headmaster. It infuriated him that the goblins were demanding that Harry fight an opponent in their arena. He didn’t believe for a moment that it had anything to do with tradition. Something else was going on, and he was determined to uncover it.
He, Minerva, and Harry had a crucial meeting scheduled with Director Ragnok the following day in a bid to resolve the escalating tensions without resorting to conflict. He wasn’t about to let his grandson fight. Even though he recognised his grandson's prodigious abilities, he did not trust the goblins to fight fairly. At least the faction that was targeting him.
A sudden popping noise startled him, prompting Charlus to swiftly pivot, his wand poised for defence against the intruder.
"Hello, Master Harry Potter's grandpa, sir," Dobby chimed in, his eager demeanour palpable as he bounced up and down.
"Call me Charlus," he said, lowering his wand. "Never sneak up on me like that again. You might get hurt."
"Sorry, sir," Dobby apologised with a respectful bow.
Charlus sighed. “What are you doing here?”
“Mr Wolfy doesn’t have much work for me at the moment,” Dobby admitted. “Dobby came here to see if you could use some help.”
Charlus looked around. He couldn’t deny that by himself, it would take him a long time to clear the rubble. "Very well. Help me clear the rubble and stack it near the front gate. Some of it might be salvageable."
“Dobby can do that!”
They worked together for the next hour in companionable silence. Charlus had to admit that a house elf was much better at cleaning up messes. The house-elf completed the same amount of work in half the time he did. If they kept going at their current rate, they would be done in a few days.
Charlus lamented the loss of what had been destroyed. The mansion was a world unto itself, combining history and elegance to create a sense of timeless grandeur. As one wandered through a maze of corridors and rooms, they would come across hidden alcoves, cosy reading nooks, and lavish suites fit for royalty.
Despite its vastness, the mansion had exuded a sense of warmth and hospitality, inviting visitors to explore its many rooms and experience the magic and mystery that lingered within its walls. It was a place of stories and secrets, a timeless sanctuary where memories were made and cherished for generations to come.
The ballroom was a spectacle of opulence, with gleaming hardwood floors, crystal chandeliers, and walls adorned with gilded mirrors. The room used to echo with the sound of music and laughter during grand events and social gatherings, an elegant space where guests danced the night away.
But a building could be rebuilt. What he mourned the most were the irreplaceable treasures that lay within the walls of the mansion. The priceless books that adorned the library shelves held volumes of incredible history, detailing the exploits of wizards and witches of old, their knowledge and wisdom preserved within their weathered pages. Each book was a treasure trove of magical secrets and ancient wisdom, a testament to the richness of the wizarding heritage.
Then there were the magical portraits that hung in the hallways, their painted eyes holding centuries of knowledge. Each portrait was a window into the past, capturing Charlus' ancestors' lives and stories while also providing guidance and counsel when needed.
"But the Potter family shall rise anew," Charlus murmured with conviction. "My grandson will rebuild our legacy to its former glory, becoming the progenitor of future generations of Potters."
He and Minerva often clashed over Harry and his three girlfriends. Minerva, whose father had been a church bishop, had more traditional views on marriage and relationships. In contrast, Charlus envisioned a different future for Harry. He saw potential in his grandson marrying three witches, envisioning a thriving family line that would ensure the continuation of the Potter lineage. The prospect of seeing such a legacy come to fruition filled Charlus with a profound sense of contentment.
Charlus' musings were abruptly interrupted by the arrival of another unexpected visitor.
"You're making some headway," Croaker remarked, coming over to stand beside him. “You finally had enough sense to enlist the aid of a house-elf.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” Charlus admitted. "Dobby is my son's house-elf. He took it upon himself to lend his services here."
Croaker chuckled. “House-elves don’t just belong to one person, but to the entire family. If they don’t have enough work to keep them going, they will look for more."
“Was there a reason you came to see me on my day off?” Charlus asked. “If there’s anything pressing, you could have contacted me by mirror.”
“This was a conversation that needed to be in person,” Croaker replied. “I found one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes.”
Charlus’ interest was immediately caught. “Where is it?”
"It's within the old Riddle Estate," Croaker revealed. "The place is laden with treacherous defenses. I could use a partner for this endeavour."
“Then we will tackle it together,” Charlus said. He called out to Dobby. "There is something I have to do. Continue cleaning up until you get tired, and then go home for the day.”
"Dobby will toil until he's drained of every ounce of magic," the dedicated house-elf affirmed.
“A more definitive command may be prudent," Croaker suggested in amusement.
"Very well. Dobby, you can only work for four more hours before you need to return home," Charlus ordered.
“Dobby understands.”
With their plans set, Croaker and Charlus departed from the site, ready to confront another of Voldemort's soul containers.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
7th December
As Harry followed his grandparents into Gringotts, he couldn't shake the eerie feeling that every goblin in the foyer was staring at him. Whether it was mere paranoia or a sense of foreboding, he couldn't tell.
Before they could even approach the counter, a goblin garbed in ominous black robes intercepted their path, his scowl deepening as he spoke.
“The director is awaiting your presence,” the goblin stated curtly, motioning for them to follow.
They were led through a side door and down a confusing maze of corridors. Harry doubted he would be able to remember his way back to the entrance. Perhaps that was the point. They soon arrived at a massive set of double doors, where a pair of armoured goblins stood. They had wicked-looking double axes strapped to their backs and looked even surlier than their escort.
“These are the guests Director Ragnok is expecting,” the goblin escort announced to the guards.
The guards examined them, their gaze lingering on Harry, sizing him up with unmistakable scepticism.
“Is this the runt apprenticed by Footshredder?” one guard sneered. “He doesn’t look like much to me.”
“You're shorter than me,” Harry retorted. “Who are you calling a runt?”
"Disrespectful, too," the second guard added. “Boy, you could easily lose your head for that.”
Charlus intervened, his expression stern. “Director Ragnok is awaiting our audience. Do you want to keep him waiting?”
The guard grunted but rapped sharply on the door. He opened it and announced their arrival.
Director Ragnok sat behind his desk, his sharp eyes taking in Harry as he entered the room. The goblin exuded an air of authority, his emerald skin and sharp, glinting teeth adding to his formidable presence.
"Ah, Lord Potter, Lady Potter, and Heir Potter," Director Ragnok said. "I have long anticipated your arrival. Please, take a seat."
“Thank you for seeing us, Director Ragnok,” Charlus said politely.
“Yes, we find ourselves in a tricky situation,” Ragnok replied, his eyes never leaving Harry’s. “I won’t beat around the bush, as the Muggle saying goes. I want Harry to participate in the arena fight.”
“Why should we accommodate such a request?” Charlus asked sharply. “Harry is under no obligation, despite what your tradition states.”
"No, he isn’t,” Ragnok said. “"However, a dear friend of mine faces peril if Harry declines the challenge. Moreover, if the rogue faction within the goblin community has set their sights on Harry, they might pose a threat in the future if left unchecked."
“How will Harry fighting help you take care of them?” Minerva asked sharply.
"It's quite straightforward," Ragnok explained. "I anticipate Harry's opponent resorting to deceitful tactics if the fight does not unfold as expected. Should they do so, it would provide me with the opportunity to launch a formal investigation into the faction, which has thus far operated discreetly."
“Who is this faction anyway?” Charlus asked.
"They are remnants of the former director's associates and kin," Ragnok said. "I defeated him in the arena to claim this position, and they have harboured animosity towards me ever since."
"Director Rageclaw?" Minerva furrowed her brow. "His tenure was rather brief, if memory serves me right."
Ragnok nodded. “Rageclaw only lasted for nearly a decade. His faction, deemed too radical even by goblin standards, advocated for a renewed conflict with wizards and sought to instigate discord through using the bank’s grip on the economy."
"I don’t recall learning about this in history class," Harry said.
"Likely because this was a recent occurrence," Ragnok noted. "Most goblins are averse to engaging in another war. Despite our relationship with wizards still being strained, we believe that diplomatic solutions prevail in most conflicts these days, and the wizards tend to agree."
"Perhaps due to the lingering fear wizards harbour towards goblins after their numerous defeats during the war," Harry suggested.
Ragnok grinned, showing his fangs. "That certainly plays a significant role in it."
"Why do you believe the faction is targeting Harry?" Charlus questioned.
Ragnok leaned back in his seat, his expression contemplative. "I suspect that the faction has joined forces with outsiders who harbour ill intentions towards Harry. It seems likely that these outsiders are the ones orchestrating the threat, rather than the faction itself."
"Could it be Obsidian behind this?" Harry mused.
Charlus shot a sharp look in Harry's direction. "It seems their influence is far-reaching if they are now able to sway goblins to their cause."
Ragnok snarled. “They won’t be for long. If I find out the faction is colluding with outsiders, they are all going to lose their heads.”
“I understand why you find it necessary to deal with this faction,” Minerva said. "But how can we ensure Harry's safety?"
Ragnok retrieved a folder from his desk, which held a page with a goblin's image inside it. "They have selected this goblin as Harry's opponent in the upcoming fight. I have assessed his abilities and he is no match for Harry. Moreover, both combatants will be restricted to using wooden staffs."
Ragnok handed the folder to Harry, who read the information about his opponent. His name was Rodluk, and he had the Velocier skill, just like Harry. Despite Harry's skill being more refined, he couldn't find any solace in this. Reflecting on his fight with the headmaster, he acknowledged that goblins were inherently stronger than humans. Considering Flitwick's partial human heritage, Harry assumed that a purebred goblin like Rodluk could potentially wield even greater strength.
“And what about when they try something underhanded?” Charlus demanded.
"In that case, all the rules are off the table," Ragnok declared. "Harry will have the liberty to employ any means at his disposal for self-defense. Additionally, my guards will be ready to intervene at a moment's notice."
The discussion continued for another half hour, as the group meticulously strategised to ensure Harry's well-being. Harry wasn’t too worried. Even if all else failed, he had an ace up his sleeve that no one else knew about, and he wouldn’t hesitate to use it if he needed to.
Before they wrapped up, Ragnok had another suggestion. “Another aspect of the arena fight is that the opponent is allowed to make a condition on the outcome of the fight, which the defeated has to uphold. Here's what I suggest you do to make it easier to capture the faction…”
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
10th December
Stepping into the arena, Harry's heart raced with a mix of excitement and nerves. The boisterous goblins in the stands exuded palpable bloodthirstiness, a stark contrast to the atmosphere of a Quidditch match.
His girlfriends sat in the stands with his grandparents, their presence providing a sense of comfort. The fight was taking place in the late afternoon after classes so his girlfriends could watch. They weren't happy that he was fighting a goblin in the arena, but they were nonetheless supporting him.
Across from him stood a formidable goblin warrior, armed with a boy-staff and dressed in only a loincloth, which showed off his powerful upper body. He looked much younger than the usual goblin bankers, and more savage.
Rodluk grinned, exposing a sharp row of fangs. “I’m going to enjoy crushing you today. Is there anything you want to say before you die, human?”
Harry pinched his nose with his fingers, his face contorting in disgust. “Yes, get a breath mint. Forget about fighting; your bad breath is going to kill me all by itself.”
Rodluk hissed. “You are just so eager to die.”
Ragnok rose from his throne in his elevated position, which looked over the arena. “Before the battle commences, each contender may propose one condition for the other's defeat. Both parties must agree. Rodluk, do you have a demand for Heir Potter?”
Rodluk's grin widened maliciously. “I want the contents of his business vault. He won't need it once I'm done with him.”
Ragnok turned to Harry. “And you, Heir Potter? What is your request?”
Harry's expression was resolute. “I want Rodluk to divulge the names of all goblin conspirators he knows who are colluding with outsiders. Additionally, he must wear the goblin artifact that compels the wearer to tell the truth.”
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Rodluk's face for the first time. Several goblins rose in protest, but Ragnok silenced them sternly.
“Since Rodluk has stated his terms, he must accept Heir Potter's condition,” Ragnok declared with a smirk. “Close the doors and seal them. No one leaves until the battle reaches its conclusion.”
Harry got into his stance and held the staff by his side. He activated Velocier and immediately dialled it up to level six. For the time being, he was going to have the skill target his entire body, not one specific area. He would change tactics only if he needed to.
Rodluk wasted no time, lunging forward with his staff in a swift and calculated strike. Harry dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow, and retaliated with a series of quick jabs with his own bo staff. The two combatants clashed in a flurry of strikes and parries, each trying to gain the upper hand.
Despite the goblin's strength and skill, Harry's training with Footshredder and Sheena ensured he could keep up with him. He used his agility and quick reflexes to outmanoeuvre the goblin and land a solid hit to his opponent's side. Rodluk grunted in pain, but recovered quickly and launched another fierce attack.
The battle continued, with the sounds of clashing staffs echoing throughout the arena. Both Harry and the goblin fought with tenacity and skill, neither willing to concede. Harry leapt back and launched a series of lightning-fast thrusts, the power and accuracy of which forced Rodluk to retreat. Harry had an advantage in reach, and Rodluk was nowhere experienced enough compared to Flitiwick to make up the difference.
Harry moved forward, maintaining his momentum. He didn’t relent, continuing to stab forward with the staff. Rodluk grunted as the attack penetrated his defences and struck him in the chest, but he recovered quickly.
Sweat dripped down Harry's brow, his muscles aching from exertion, but he refused to stop. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Harry noticed an opening for a decisive blow. With a sudden burst of speed, he delivered a powerful strike to Rodluk's head, dazing him and knocking him to the ground.
Before Harry could attack his downed opponent, he noticed Rodluk pull a round object from his loincloth. He threw the object at Harry, who was already backing away, his instincts screaming that it was dangerous.
In the next moment, an explosion rocked the arena.
So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Harry has to deal with a goblin who plays dirty.
Thanks for reading.
Comments
GamerFiction
He's wearing duelling robes with basilisk protective clothing underneath. I might add that part to the chapter at some point.
Salvage48
What is Harry wearing in the arena? Awesome chapter!
