Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Specialis
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Specialis (- Secrets)
A dark-hooded man sat alone in a throne-like chair.
Silent.
Deep in thought.
The onyx black hood of the hand-made robes covered most of the man’s features, except for his reddened lips, showing signs of being nibbled from an age old habit that refused to die.
His smooth pale fingers threaded together in concentration while his thoughts bounced around inside his aching head, much like the slightest sound would echo around the great expanse of the room he occupied.
The smallest movement he made would make his heavy silk robes shift, causing a momentary frenzy of sound to erupt; reminding him all too well of how his impatience can lead to a chaotic end of his plans.
Especially when one Harry Potter was concerned.
The temperature of the room quickly plummeted along with the creation of a light breeze that pulled an involuntary shiver from the only figure in the room; signalling the arrival of the Manor’s more… permanent occupants.
The man sighed, his warm breath immediately cooling in the deathly cold air; leaving a cloud of almost transparent fog that quickly disappeared. Making way for the spirit of the original owner of the Manor entered the room through the wall behind the make shift throne.
“Good evening, Salazar.” the man greeted the founder of the house of serpents with a slight nod of his head towards his famous ancestor.
“Evening Tom, I assume you have thought about our discussion earlier in the week?” the older founder’s ghost asked while hovering beside the grand seat he once occupied in his life, while looking around the room as if commenting on the décor.
‘Of course, you old fool!’ thought Tom Riddle, ‘I had never felt more frustrated in my life, being talked to like a mere child who had tried to sneak out at night. And by a ghost!’
They both knew it was a rhetorical question, but someone like his pompous ancestor always required an answer; whether it was to ask a person with a glass of water in their hand if they were thirsty or to ask the person with a knife to his throat if they were going to kill him.
“Yes.” he answered in exasperation, closing his blood red eyes and the ghost from view, moving to lean his head upon his hand where it rested on the arm of his throne to await the upcoming discussion/lecture like a bored teenager.
Salazar turned to his only remaining heir as he asked “So you have come to a conclusion at last? You will rethink your ideas and aims now that you have your body back? Oh good,” the old spirit continued without waiting for an answer “I’m so glad you have realised your mistakes. You’ve wasted so much time already that you could have spent doing things my way and saved so much time. But instead you decided you didn’t need my help and look where that’s got you!”
The newly reformed Dark Lord just opened his eyes to acknowledge that he was paying attention, knowing he wouldn’t get a word in.
“Nowhere!” Salazar continued, “When I showed you my research I expected you to carry on my theories and act on them, but I can see now that I should have stayed longer throughout your education to set you on the right path. To make sure you didn’t start off your life with only hate for un-pure wizards based on your own experiences.”
The Dark Lords’ eyes blazed with that as he stood from his chair, glaring at the founder: “You should be blaming that old coot then, he was the one to keep sending me back to that horrible place. I was an experiment to that old fool; he wanted to see how a top student would cope in those horrible conditions at the orphanage. He knew how they treated me and he still sent me back year after year while the others had the choice to stay at the school of the holidays –“
“No, I didn’t agree with his methods.” the Serpent founder interrupted over toms booming voice. “And yes, he considered you an experiment but you also forgot to take all of his and Dippet’s lessons and get everything you could out of them like I told you. You discarded the most important lesson that me and the other founders wrote into the oath of every Headmaster of that school.” He said in a cool calm voice hovering directly in front of the aggravated man. “Love. The true key to power and immortality. You can’t live for eternity on your own even with pieces of a soul. Every piece craves its other half. You just delayed the effects by splitting the pieces. If you had found this earlier I would never have been forced to bind you to him.”
Tom huffed before retaking his seat. This is right where all of their discussions lead. Love. The catalyst for any and every powerful bond. The emotion which seals two Veela once they met and mated. Apparently, the thing needed to keep his fragile mind and body in existence.
All the years of rituals and dark spells, black potions and killing left his soul, and also his mind in tatters. His intelligent insanity made him the most feared Dark Lord in history. Dangerous to not only his enemies but also his followers. His madness shredded the goals he started with to change the Wizarding World for the better and morphing them into killing any who stood in his way to his so-called ‘perfection’ at the time.
His ancestor had not been happy to hear what he had done to the Wizarding world in his absence in the after life, so when he had returned from being ‘reborn’, Salazar had been waiting for him, tricking him into a ritual to restore his mind and body.
The spirit had shouted at him that going after the Potter boy had been the ‘best bloody thing he could have done to have any sort of future’, as it had allowed the powerful ancestor to establish a weak connection to a stable source of powerful magic equal to his own, balancing Tom’s unstable power core and Harry’s young, secure one; also Harry could provide a substantial emotional balance for both of them with only slight side effects.
This process is also know as the ancient soul bonds that had been used even before Salazar’s time; when the two people concerned didn’t have to love each other at all as long as something connected them, hence the reason it was banished from all but the rarest books.
The ritual had most commonly been used for arranged marriages, hence Tom’s frustrated mood.
“You basically married us!” Tom exasperated to the founder from his chair.
“Well you best start getting to know your new husband then. I think you might find you don’t hate it as much as you think you will…” Salazar responded, amusement clear in his voice as he retreated from the room through the nearest wall.
The pale ghosts head stuck out of the wall once again to add a last comment before floating from the room to wander the castle, leaving a spluttering Dark Lord in his wake and a smile on his lips.
“Don’t forget” his ancestor had said in the snakes tongue, “I still want a new heir before you die…”
Specialis (- Secrets)
A dark-hooded man sat alone in a throne-like chair.
Silent.
Deep in thought.
The onyx black hood of the hand-made robes covered most of the man’s features, except for his reddened lips, showing signs of being nibbled from an age old habit that refused to die.
His smooth pale fingers threaded together in concentration while his thoughts bounced around inside his aching head, much like the slightest sound would echo around the great expanse of the room he occupied.
The smallest movement he made would make his heavy silk robes shift, causing a momentary frenzy of sound to erupt; reminding him all too well of how his impatience can lead to a chaotic end of his plans.
Especially when one Harry Potter was concerned.
The temperature of the room quickly plummeted along with the creation of a light breeze that pulled an involuntary shiver from the only figure in the room; signalling the arrival of the Manor’s more… permanent occupants.
The man sighed, his warm breath immediately cooling in the deathly cold air; leaving a cloud of almost transparent fog that quickly disappeared. Making way for the spirit of the original owner of the Manor entered the room through the wall behind the make shift throne.
“Good evening, Salazar.” the man greeted the founder of the house of serpents with a slight nod of his head towards his famous ancestor.
“Evening Tom, I assume you have thought about our discussion earlier in the week?” the older founder’s ghost asked while hovering beside the grand seat he once occupied in his life, while looking around the room as if commenting on the décor.
‘Of course, you old fool!’ thought Tom Riddle, ‘I had never felt more frustrated in my life, being talked to like a mere child who had tried to sneak out at night. And by a ghost!’
They both knew it was a rhetorical question, but someone like his pompous ancestor always required an answer; whether it was to ask a person with a glass of water in their hand if they were thirsty or to ask the person with a knife to his throat if they were going to kill him.
“Yes.” he answered in exasperation, closing his blood red eyes and the ghost from view, moving to lean his head upon his hand where it rested on the arm of his throne to await the upcoming discussion/lecture like a bored teenager.
Salazar turned to his only remaining heir as he asked “So you have come to a conclusion at last? You will rethink your ideas and aims now that you have your body back? Oh good,” the old spirit continued without waiting for an answer “I’m so glad you have realised your mistakes. You’ve wasted so much time already that you could have spent doing things my way and saved so much time. But instead you decided you didn’t need my help and look where that’s got you!”
The newly reformed Dark Lord just opened his eyes to acknowledge that he was paying attention, knowing he wouldn’t get a word in.
“Nowhere!” Salazar continued, “When I showed you my research I expected you to carry on my theories and act on them, but I can see now that I should have stayed longer throughout your education to set you on the right path. To make sure you didn’t start off your life with only hate for un-pure wizards based on your own experiences.”
The Dark Lords’ eyes blazed with that as he stood from his chair, glaring at the founder: “You should be blaming that old coot then, he was the one to keep sending me back to that horrible place. I was an experiment to that old fool; he wanted to see how a top student would cope in those horrible conditions at the orphanage. He knew how they treated me and he still sent me back year after year while the others had the choice to stay at the school of the holidays –“
“No, I didn’t agree with his methods.” the Serpent founder interrupted over toms booming voice. “And yes, he considered you an experiment but you also forgot to take all of his and Dippet’s lessons and get everything you could out of them like I told you. You discarded the most important lesson that me and the other founders wrote into the oath of every Headmaster of that school.” He said in a cool calm voice hovering directly in front of the aggravated man. “Love. The true key to power and immortality. You can’t live for eternity on your own even with pieces of a soul. Every piece craves its other half. You just delayed the effects by splitting the pieces. If you had found this earlier I would never have been forced to bind you to him.”
Tom huffed before retaking his seat. This is right where all of their discussions lead. Love. The catalyst for any and every powerful bond. The emotion which seals two Veela once they met and mated. Apparently, the thing needed to keep his fragile mind and body in existence.
All the years of rituals and dark spells, black potions and killing left his soul, and also his mind in tatters. His intelligent insanity made him the most feared Dark Lord in history. Dangerous to not only his enemies but also his followers. His madness shredded the goals he started with to change the Wizarding World for the better and morphing them into killing any who stood in his way to his so-called ‘perfection’ at the time.
His ancestor had not been happy to hear what he had done to the Wizarding world in his absence in the after life, so when he had returned from being ‘reborn’, Salazar had been waiting for him, tricking him into a ritual to restore his mind and body.
The spirit had shouted at him that going after the Potter boy had been the ‘best bloody thing he could have done to have any sort of future’, as it had allowed the powerful ancestor to establish a weak connection to a stable source of powerful magic equal to his own, balancing Tom’s unstable power core and Harry’s young, secure one; also Harry could provide a substantial emotional balance for both of them with only slight side effects.
This process is also know as the ancient soul bonds that had been used even before Salazar’s time; when the two people concerned didn’t have to love each other at all as long as something connected them, hence the reason it was banished from all but the rarest books.
The ritual had most commonly been used for arranged marriages, hence Tom’s frustrated mood.
“You basically married us!” Tom exasperated to the founder from his chair.
“Well you best start getting to know your new husband then. I think you might find you don’t hate it as much as you think you will…” Salazar responded, amusement clear in his voice as he retreated from the room through the nearest wall.
The pale ghosts head stuck out of the wall once again to add a last comment before floating from the room to wander the castle, leaving a spluttering Dark Lord in his wake and a smile on his lips.
“Don’t forget” his ancestor had said in the snakes tongue, “I still want a new heir before you die…”
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