Dark Mythos
Later that evening, a few hours after a quiet supper with just Harry and Uncle Arty, Harry crept back downstairs, hoping to find Sirius.
He spotted him in the drawing room again. Aunt Wally hadn’t been seen since her meltdown earlier, so they seemed to be in the clear.
“Can I ask you a favor?” Harry broke the silence.
Sirius looked up from the magazine in his lap. It was called Dark Mythos and had a half shifted werewolf on the cover. Sirius seemed to be very interested in werewolves. Any time Harry saw him reading pretty much anything it was somehow related to the dark creatures.
“Anything,” Sirius replied. His brows were drawn slightly, curious as to what it could be that Harry wanted.
“If a person wanted to destroy something very powerful beyond the point of repair, what spell would they use?”
Sirius blinked in shock for a moment before answering. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. “That would be a number of things, but I suppose fiendfyre would have to be the least elaborate. Why do you ask?”
“Can you teach me fiendfyre?” Harry asked eagerly.
“That’s very powerful, dark magic,” Sirius warned, setting the magazine down. “It’s quite volatile when conjuring and extremely difficult to control. It’s very easy to accidentally kill oneself with it if you try it before you know what you’re doing.”
“Do you think you could teach me to control it?”
Sirius looked at Harry pensively for a moment. “I don’t like the idea of teaching you dark magic at all, let alone something so strong. Before I even decide if I will or not, you have to tell me why it is you want to know.”
Harry contemplated telling him a lie but knew that he couldn’t come up with anything believable. Instead, he just went with the truth and explained to Sirius about the Philosopher’s Stone.
He’d already told him about the incident with the twins--more specifically, Fred--but he’d never explained the reason behind it. Sirius had assumed it was just some schoolyard duel between the Slytherins and a couple of Gryffindors. He and James had gotten into plenty of those in his day.
“How come you didn’t tell me about all of this before?”
“Well...” Harry stammered sheepishly. “I don’t know… I guess I thought I would get into trouble for sneaking around and doing something dangerous.”
Sirius arched a brow at him. “The last thing that I have any right to do is scold you for sneaking around at Hogwarts.” He reached out and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “But, I could have done something to help you. Especially once you became suspicious of Voldemort being involved.
“I know you have a history of the adults in your life treating you badly, but you have to start relying on the people around you more. At least the competent ones, and I like to think I’m one of them. You can trust me with anything, Harry.”
“I know I can,” Harry nodded. “I suppose I just forget that I don’t have to do everything alone.”
“You don’t. Even at Hogwarts. You can always trust Professor McGonagall. I know she’s quite stern and the Gryffindor Head of House, but she’s easily the most capable person in that entire school. If something dangerous is going on, especially if it’s Voldemort related--you can always rely on her to help you.”
Harry tried to trust in Sirius’ words. He didn’t doubt the austere newly minted headmistress was the most capable in the school. But it would take a bit more than just Sirius’ vouching for him to really trust the woman.
“Alright then.” Sirius dropped his hand from Harry’s shoulder and scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Back to business. Why don’t you show me the Stone.”
Harry nodded, then ran upstairs to fetch it from where he hid it in his room. He brought it back, still, in the box he’d received it in from the twins. He set the box on the table beside the copy of Dark Mythos, sliding it toward Sirius. Then he opened it up.
It looked quite ordinary. Like a regular old crystal, or perhaps a gemstone like a large uncut ruby. But Harry knew better than to underestimate it. It was one of the most powerful magical items in the world.
Sirius seemed to be aware of it as well as he cast his eyes over it reverentially. He gently picked it up from the box, holding it delicately in his fingers. He examined it for a moment, then sighed.
“It’s quite a shame to destroy such a thing. But you are right that if there’s a chance that it can be used by Voldemort to return to full power, then it ought to be gotten rid of. Unfortunately, I’m certain that the Flamels have more than just the one, but we’ll just have to hope they’re under better protection than Dumbledore could provide.” He switched the way he was holding it, so that he was gripping it firmly in his palm.
“Fiendfyre would definitely do the trick, but it’s very dangerous. You know, I would gladly destroy it for you.”
“I suppose you could, but I really want to learn how to do this for myself.”
Sirius could tell by the look of steadfast determination on his face that it was a matter of pride for the boy. With Harry looking up at him through James's face and Lily's eyes he couldn't refuse. So, Sirius went against his instincts and decided he would teach him the spell.
Sirius set the stone back in the box as he stood up and began to prepare Harry for the difficult lesson.
“When it comes to fiendfyre, the most important thing you need to know is that you are never to attempt this spell without my supervision,” he warned. “There are fully trained masters of magic that have burned themselves alive attempting to control this. As smart and as powerful as you are, you are still only twelve. Dark magic is unpredictable, and it is not to be trifled with. Do you understand?” Harry nodded dutifully. “The second thing you need to know is the counter curse. Fiendfyre is powerful and has a mind of its own, so a basic finite incantatem isn’t going to cut it. Repeat after me: terminus ignus.”
“Terminus ignus,” Harry echoed.
“Good. Now try it again, but with vigor.”
“Terminus ignus!”
“More forcefully.”
“Terminus ignus!” Harry nearly shouted.
“More aggressive. As if you intend to stop a dragon in its tracks with just those words.”
Harry took a deep breath, focusing any pent-up energy and rage that he could find. “TERMINUS IGNUS!” he growled.
“Very good,” Sirius praised. “This time, try it just like that, but practice it with your wand. There is no movement, just point and cast.”
Harry did as he was told, pointing his wand to a blank spot on the wall. When he said the incantation, there was a visible ripple in the air and the temperature of the room dropped by at least ten degrees.
Harry gasped and shivered, letting out a cloud of breath.
“Perfect.” Sirius patted him on the back. “The coldness means it worked. It would have silenced a fire if there had been any.” Sirius waved his own wand in a circle and the room warmed back up. “But we’re not dealing with just any fire. Fiendfyre is not just meant to burn, it’s meant to kill. And it has a mind of its own. It will seek out anything that is living and burn the life right out of it. So try it again, and put more power behind it.”
Harry allowed himself a small smile in satisfaction. Hearing Sirius’ words of encouragement made him feel all fuzzy inside. But he sobered quickly as the seriousness of the situation dawned on him, and he went back to work on the spell.
They tried it ten more times before Sirius decided Harry was ready enough. Each time, the room had gotten colder than the last. On the seventh try, the entire room was completely frozen with icicles hanging from the furniture and everything dusted over with a heavy layer of white frost.
“Very good,” Sirius praised. He vanished all of the ice away. “That would definitely do the trick. Now, I want you to try it a few more times--exactly like that--to make sure that you have it.”
“Alright,” Sirius continued to explain once they moved on, “because fiendfyre is so powerful, unlike many other spells, even if you cast it poorly, there can still be catastrophic results. So, I want you to brace yourself. It might even throw you back. No matter what, though, do not flick or wave your wand. That could be the end of us both. I’ll be right behind you just in case, but the second you think it might get out of hand, you give that counter curse, alright?”
“Alright,” Harry sighed, steeling himself. He turned to aim at the fireplace, spreading his feet apart and grounding himself to the floor.
“The incantation is mors ignus.”
Harry pulled together all of his concentration and focus. “Mors ignus!” he cast. A giant snake made of flames exploded out of the tip of his wand with enough force to knock him over. Sirius caught him before he went too far, and the snake disappeared in a blink as the older man silently banished it away.
“Bloody hell!” Harry panted. “Sorry!” he admonished himself for the swear. “That was intense,” he corrected, righting himself.
“Absolutely, it was,” Sirius agreed.
Harry took a deep breath, then returned to his stance “Okay, I’m ready to try again.” Sirius braced himself as well, then nodded.
“Mors ignus!”
Harry kept on like that for the following two hours. He managed to pick it up incredibly quickly, but that wasn’t to say he was anywhere near mastering it. Although, through some miracle (probably just Sirius’ intervention) he hadn’t set anything on fire, so he called that a win. It was good enough for the time being.
By the end of the evening, he was able to perform the spell well enough to destroy the Philosopher’s Stone in the fireplace. After taking so much heat, the hearth and the wall immediately surrounding it wound up being completely black and the edges of the mantle had begun to crumble into ash. It would need replacing.
On the coffee table across from it, Dark Mythos had begun curling around the edges, and the pages were much crispier than they had been originally. The Weasley Twins’ box was looking equally distorted.
But the stone was reduced to nothing and that had been the endgame, so it was a success.
He’d expected there to be some sort of fantastic display with the destruction of such a powerful object, but instead, it simply melted away with no fanfare. When it finally dissolved, the flames turned a bright red before he put it out, but that was all. He found it quite anticlimactic, but as long as Voldemort couldn’t get to it any longer, he was happy.
In fact, he felt a bit of a weight lift from his shoulders when it was all said and done. He doubted that if Voldemort was still out there that the stone disappearing would be the last that he heard from him. But at least he was safe for now.
After so much work, he was utterly exhausted and he couldn’t wait to hit his mattress and instantly fall asleep. He thanked Sirius for the help, told him goodnight, then headed to his room.
His body seemed to be growing heavier the more he increased the proximity to his bed, but he had to do something before he finally turned in. He grabbed three pieces of parchment and his ostrich feather quill, then quickly jotted down three identical, very brief, letters.
‘It is done.
-H. Potter’
They were more like notes, really, but he sealed and addressed them before sliding his window open and whistling. The Blacks didn’t have an owlery as the Malfoys did, so their owls—including Hedwig—usually just hung around outside, coming and going as they pleased like normal owls. But there was always at least one nearby ready to send a letter.
That night, it was a black horned owl that always looked at him as if he were annoyed at being called. Sirius had once assured him that he wasn’t actually annoyed, that was just what his face looked like. But Harry was always cautious around him anyways.
He tied the three notes to his leg, then stood back to let him go, but the owl just kept staring at him. With the look on his face, it was as if he were asking, ‘Really? Three of them? Why are you wasting my time sending three piddly old notes?’
“Well, go on, then,” Harry ushered him away. The owl gave a single short hoot as if sighing in exasperation, then took off into the night.
Without any hesitation, Harry flung his robes over his head then climbed into the bed, just like that.