In the Shadow of Seventh year

Chapter 17: Stupidly going Solo

"Come on, just a little more." You muttered as the magic in your hands was almost done forming. 
   A painful throbbing in your head broke your concentration and the cube the size of a small box you had tried to make crumbled in your hands, disappearing completely. 

"DAMN IT!" You screamed in frustration and then clutched your head when another sharp throb answered. You could feel the blood drip out of your nose and even tasted it when some of it dribbled over your lips. 
   It was clear you had went too far, but only part of you regretted it. The other part was just frustrated that you weren't capable of doing more. There weren't any dark spots filling your vision yet, but your whole body felt like it had been strung too tight. 

Reaching out blindly for the Wiggenwelds you had prepared just in case, your fingers closed around the glass bottle. 
   Downing it quickly, you almost instantly felt better.
The blood stopped dripping finally and your migraine turned into a dull headache which was the best the Wiggenweld could do. It was enough for now.

Using your wand to perform a 'Scourgify' on yourself to clean the blood, you looked at the floor in front of you. 
   A pile of pearlescent, nearly translucent objects lay in front of you. There were needles, sticks, balls and cubes in all different sizes, but the biggest one was what could be a rugby ball.
   An ache set into your muscles and you breathed heavily trying to come back to your senses a little. Somewhere in your mind you knew what you were doing was stupid since it could impact your health -like it wasn't already doing that- and through that, stunt your magic.
   Yet thoughts of what had happened to the orphanage, those poor kids and Madam Price kept crossing your mind and if that was something MacMillan did just because he felt like it, you didn't even want to imagine what could happen if he ever got his hands on the corrupted Ancient Magic from the repository with a goal in mind.

Logically, you knew it wasn't your sole responsibility to stop him. It would be the job of the Ministry and the Aurors to capture him and make sure he could never get to it.
   But you knew from experience that they probably wouldn't actively search for him. 
Theophilus Harlow was only captured because Natty went after him herself and send word to Officer Singer on where to go. 
   And the biggest deal was that the Ministry didn't know anything about your Ancient Magic or the repository.
   They hardly knew about what actually happened with Ranrok and what they did know, they kept secret from the rest of the Wizarding World. 
   So even if you could convince Officer Singer you had an evil uncle, you couldn't very well tell her about what he actually was after, could you? Professor Weasley had advised you not to let the Ministry know unless you wanted to become their little experiment.
   You definitely did not want that. You were grateful the teachers had protected you in that regard.
   All that the student body and the Ministry knew was that you had fought Ranrok and killed him, making you the "Hero of Hogwarts". 
   If only they could see their so-called hero now. Making herself ill trying to master a power that was still beyond her reach.

Sighing, you shoved the pile of shapes into the big closet that the Room had provided for you the first time you had trained.
   The clock chimed, reminding you that curfew had been a couple of hours ago and you would need Disillusionment to get back to your common room if you didn't want a deduction of House points. 
   Looking around the Room contemplating if you should just stay overnight or go through the effort of going back, you were relieved that Deek hadn't been here all day. 
You wouldn't have been able to train yourself with him here, knowing he would tell Professor Weasley as soon as he saw it taking a toll on you.
   Thinking about it, if he would decide to show up later on and he found you still here, that would just be asking for an interrogation by your Professor and it was the last thing you needed.
   Making sure the closet full of your magical makings was closed tightly, you went on your way.