The Need for Dead Mice
Harry P.O.V
He didn't know how long he sat in that attic as he reread the passage over and over again. Reveled in the sight of paper in various shades of yellow and faded, aged ink. Took in the feel of old, faded auburn leather, softer and less stiff from regular use. His body shook minutely, overwhelmed. 'I could have something of my own, something that can't be taken away.' He thought excitedly. He clutched the open book to his chest with the arms crossed over each other and frail fingers grappled the edges as they shook, body leaned over as if to protect the book from harm. 'Magic is real.' His brain still needed to process it, 'I must have Magic.' He grinned like a loon.
For once he didn't care about his wounds and aches, about the possibility of punishment and the scars that it'll add to his collection. He couldn't care about his aunt Petunia or uncle Vernon's ridiculous expectations. For once in his miserable nine years of living he couldn't give a damn about repercussions. Three days the Dursleys will be gone. Off to the center of London for a live performance of a popular band he didn't know the name of; Dudley boasted about it the entire month. 'Probably hoping I'll be dead when they get back.' The grin slid off his face at the reminder. 'Maybe they don't like me because I have magic. They had this box up here, they must have known.' He looked up towards the box, rewatched the moving picture as it showed a man and woman looking down at the bundle in the woman's hands before they glanced up at him and smiled. 'The woman must be Lily, but what is she holding?' Talking one hand off the book he took the picture out of the box and flipped it over. There was a date and a small description on the back,
"Harry's first time outside and he fell asleep! He gets it from James I swear. Hope you're doing well Petunia, and maybe we could catch up some time over tea? You know how to mail me if you wish to. Just think about it Tunia, please.
From, Lily Potter"
Harry didn't think much of it until the signature- Harry was a very common name-, Lily Potter. Potter, his last name. He quickly flipped the picture back over, 'Is that little bundle... Me?' He thought, his fingers hovered over the bundle in the picture. His eyes look at the man, James and the woman, Lily. 'They must be my parents... Why am I here then?' He frowned at the picture and dropped it into the box, dismissing his thoughts and brought the book away from his chest to reread the pages.
To even attempt at forging the dead one needed to have a tool to focus and refine the power into, Isaac noted that he himself used a blade for a "more direct forging" while somebody called Hector really embraced the name "forgemaster" and used a hammer similar to a blacksmithing one and was similarly used. It took a special kind of metal made in a specific type of way, using tools that Harry did not have nor did he have the ability or money to acquire them.
His eyes drifted up and down the page as he had done a thousand times before and turned the page. There another small passage in different handwriting. The other forgemaster, Hector. Harry eagerly read, not skipping over a single letter.
'Isaac wanted me to write my beginnings as a forgemaster as he felt mine was more... Accomplishable. Remember before reading, if you start this journey there is rarely ever a way back and that you are summoning demons from hell into the dead bodies, forging them into terrifying creatures that feed on human flesh- once you get your forging tool of course. Before I had my hammer or even figured out having a focus would strengthen the forging, I used these two coin like pebbles and used them like a flint and steel. Sparks of forging magic would come off and ignite life back into dead animals. If you're... Displeased by open ribs, missing eyes, or entire bones showing then I would recommend starting out with not eaten and freshly killed animals as this technique does not heal any injuries. How you do it is actually quite simple, simple wish very hard for a companion, pet, even some help while striking whatever rock or metal you use while by a dead animal; you have to be close enough to touch it, else it won't work. This is the more... Primitive version of forging, if it can be called that. You'll know it works if you see sparks that look at least similar to the color of your eyes, the revived body should have the same colored eyes as well. The act of forging gives off a rather, revealing effect. A bright glow usually accompanies the forging, the primitive version from what I remember doesn't have this effect. Both Isaac and I have had difficulties with others when we started practicing this magic; Isaac has encountered people who have been able to smell the magic on him. Be cautious while on your journey to become a forgemaster, and remember that the reanimated bodies, the demons are loyal only to you and will do as you wish.'
Harry stared at the page for a while longer. Rereading the passage just as many times as he did the last one. 'Will do as I wish?' He sighed almost dreamily, that sounded wonderful, almost too good to be true. He looked at the words again before putting down the book for the first time since he picked it up. There may be pebbles around here somewhere, or at least some kind of metal in one of the boxes and he knew there had to be at least one dead rat lying around. Quickly, he started to open and shift through the contents of each box. It was harder than he expected to find two metal things to use, whether because it was too rusted or it wasn't a natural metal; he assumed it had to be natural from the time the journal was written.
It wasn't until he was ten boxes in and had only three left that he stumbled upon it, a decorative dagger perfectly preserved in its box with the label 'Celestria's Silver Dagger with the Serpent Engraved Emerald Hilt'. It was beautiful. The blade was shined to perfection and looked exactly like the sliver silverware set aunt Petunia boasted about whenever it was used for holidays or guests, with the emerald having the slightest of different shades whenever he turned it a different way, and the serpent looked ready to jump out of the emerald to bite whoever dared touch it. "Perfect." Harry breathed as he fumbled to open the box and delicately pulled the bedding the dagger delicately laid in, out. He took the time to appreciate it in it's untouched state, looking as if recently professionally polished before he reached a hand out, wrapped his fingers around the hilt, and lifted it.
Nothing felt more right than holding the blade. It felt like it accepted him, hee could have sworn he saw the snake move to nuzzle his palm instead of taking a poison filled bite. Everything sat in a state of standstill, as if the entire world had taken a breath at the righteousness and beauty of such a small, frail child holding a mighty dagger like a priest would a cross. There was a hum in the air and the air currents seemed to change, wind brushing against his hair in a windowless, humid room but all Harry could focus on was the serpent's eyes as it stared back.
The spell was broken when the sound of children's laughter somehow reached his ears. He slowly lowered his arm as he quickly looked in the perceived direction the sound came from. Harry's face contorted as he fought not to scowl at the reminder of his imprisonment and looked down at the dagger again as if for comfort or guidance. He started at it for a moment, barely blinking as his head shot up as if frightened and intently observed the edge of the attic. It was with a glint in his eyes, a glint made from the light of the fires of hell itself that Isaac himself used to bear that he thought, 'I do need a dead mouse. And there is sure to be many more once I get out of here.' He wasn't just referring to the attic.