The Necromancer

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Harry’s first instinct was to run. Rylan was a sorcerer, powerful enough to remain undetected while literally spending all his time near Bram the Red for years and years, and Harry stood not a single chance against him.

Fuck, he really was a sheltered little swot, wasn’t he?

But running was not an option. Many had tried, but soon learned that the collar prevented them from moving past certain warded points in the city and that it acted like a beacon, making it easy for Karakas to find them.

A lot of students, the first time they were allowed to move about the city on their own to run some errands, attempted at least once to escape. But they never stayed out for more than a day, overwhelmed by the city, trapped by the extensive wards, and usually resigned once Karakas picked them up.

Punishment for this was usually two weeks locked in a room by themselves while only receiving water and bland porridge, so they could carefully consider their poor choices, according to Karakas. And for most of them, this was enough to ensure they never tried to escape again.

Occasionally, a student proved more stubborn. Harry well remembered one teenager named Maron, who made a sport of sneaking out of the school as often as he could. Karakas had gone easy on him at first, as he usually did with all the kids, but after the fifth time of having to haul Maron back to the school after yet another escape attempt, even Karakas got truly fed up, had Maron tied to a post in the courtyard, and had him whipped while he made every single student watch. And afterwards Genka had been forbidden to heal Maron with magic, and the boy had spent two weeks in the hospital before he could even walk a few steps again.

Harry had been nine at the time and he’d decided that simply trying to run away was a waste of time unless he could get that blasted collar off first.

Which meant that now there was no escape.

Rylan summoned him, and Harry had to go.

“Sweetheart,” his mother said as she crouched down in front of him, while Harry still sat quietly on the floor of the storage room. “You have to pull yourself together and make a plan. Rylan likes playing games, but for the most part, if you don’t fight back, he won’t hurt you too much. The more you fight, the more he will hurt you.”

“Use your occlumency to hide your emotions,” Charis said with a stern look. “You’re proficient enough to accomplish that, Harry. Put up an act. Play pretend.”

Dorea nodded her agreement. “Yes, pretend you’re curious about him. Butter him up. You’re not one of the small children he so likes to torture. You’re fifteen, practically a young man.”

“You can do this, Harry.” His father gave Harry a warm, encouraging smile. “You’ve survived Voldemort when you were a baby. You can survive this bastard as well, I just know it.”

“And what’s the worst that can happen?” Auntie Eustice mused while she barely glanced at Harry. “He kills you, and then we all lose access to the library.” When Harry whipped his head up to glare at her, she winked at him with a teasing little smile and somehow that made Harry chuckle.

Inhaling a deep breath, Harry pushed himself up to his feet and started compartmentalizing his mind. Charis was right. Harry was good at occlumency, Charis had personally seen to that. He just had to organize this mind in such a way that he could pretend to not be more terrified than he’d ever been in his life.