The Prince of Darkness

Chapter 2

The 'Goblin' kept looking. He looked back. The 'Goblin' looked more closely. He looked even harder. Then he came back, making him almost smile with victory ... until he barked another 'Goblin' in the room and then turned to him, then began to poke him with his long and sharper finger than a needle finger. "Hey!" He protested, retreating to feel that something strange was happening around him. Some kind of wave going up, circling it, enveloping it with its tred. "What's going on?" He screamed, trying to dodge the attack and try to sit down. "Stop fighting magic, child." The Healer 'Goblin' Sharp Tooth barked, pushing him back to bed, "I'm trying to cast a diagnostic spell to know how much memory you've lost." "My memory is great." He replied, "And what are you talking about? What charm? Magic doesn't exist." After saying that, he stopped classifying. Why does he sound like he's babbling and whistling again? Thank God, aunt and uncle were not there to listen to him. With his empty look, he knew that the Goblins didn't understand him either, he sighed and repeated the words paying attention to speak English this time. No body understands it when it switches to babbling language involuntarily. This made them beat him even harder, declaring that it was 'abnormal'. The 'Goblin' froze, stopping poking for the first time and ignoring his siscent, "Who said that magic does not exist?" "They don't want to." He confirmed it. "Tio Válter says that." The 'Goblin' gave a mean smile, looking at him with piercing eyes, "I understand. So what's your name, kid?" "I'm a freak." The Healer Sharp Tooth froze, then narrowed his eyes, "I'm sorry?" He cleared his throat, "My name is Freak. Freak er, Dursley, I think." He shrugged his shoulders harmlessly. In fact, he doesn't know if he has a last name. But they are his uncle and aunt, so that explains. Everything he said seemed to unnerve the 'Goblin' as he moved uncomfortably, exchanging meaningful glances with other 'Goblins'. "Listen to me, Harry," Sharptooth looked at him. "First of all, his name is Harry. No freak. Your 'uncle' is a nuisance to society that should be locked in Azkaban." He really growled, which sent a shiver down his back. "Harry." He murmured in amazement, "My name is Harry." He repeated, too surprised by the discovery to realize what he said about his uncle. "Yes, you're Harry." Sharptooth patiently confirmed, "Secondly, magic exists. It's just well hidden from people who are not magical for well-being on both sides." "Isn't it?" He - Harry, his name is - if what he said is true - interrupted, unable to hold on to himself "Does magic exist? And whose well-being? I don't understand, I'm scared." "You would understand better if you were left with those sucker smuggles." Sharptooth spat out the words. "The way they hit you or leave you hungry when you must have exhibited accidental Magic." Harry's brain was teering trying to keep up with whatever he said. "Suckers?" "Trouxas are what we call non-magical people." "I understand," He - Harry swallowed it dry, looking at his hands, "And then you're saying I'm a - what? Magician? Swing?" 

"Sorcerer is the real term." Sharptooth said with a smile. "Do you remember to do something extraordinary? Something you can't explain to others." "I will do it." Harry nodded, "I remember how Aunt Petunia tried to cut my hair again and again and it grew overnight every time. I also remember, just a day ago, actually. I was running away from Duda and somehow she appeared on the roof of my school. Uncle Valter was not happy. ""I can say." Sharp Tooth said darkly, "Say, Harry, do you remember anything happening to you after the beating he gave?" Harry frowned, trying to remember, "Er, not really. The last thing I remember is being thrown against the wall." He said in a monotonous voice, speaking in the third-person view. It's no use hiding it, since the Sharp Tooth Healer seems to know everything. "Why do you ask, Sharp Tooth Healer?" He asked, remaining respectful. The Sharp Tooth Healer seems to be surprised by his respectful tone, "Well, then, let me explain some things then." Harry nodded, listening attentively, "Sometimes some of the members of the witch family show creature heritage when they reach maturity, especially wizards with a dark core. This is not something strange or scary to happen to a wizard. It is perfectly normal, in the fact that they are celebrated and revered. However, some of the wizards - especially sucker-born wizards consider them bad and dark, and try to kill them and inspire others to do the same. But this happens simply because those pathetic idiots don't understand how magic works. And the light side doesn't even care about teaching them the glorious history of magic. Are you following me, Harry? "Yes." Harry nodded, wondering why he's saying this to him. "A magician usually receives the inheritance of a creature when he reaches the age of majority. But sometimes, in extreme conditions - such as life-threatening situations or any other emergencies, the magic of a wizard can force his body to obtain the inheritance of a creature. You understand everything I'm saying, right? " "Yes." "The night your uncle hit you, you almost died, Harry." Sharptooth said in a surprisingly gentle voice, "But his magic refused to let him die, so he plunged deep into his soul and brought a gift to save his life." "Are you saying that I went through some kind of creature inheritance?" Harry's voice was incredulous. "It looks so." Sharptooth nodded. Harry frowned, "But I still feel like a human. How can I be an animal?" Sharptooth smiled, "You didn't see yourself completely, Harry." Harry widened his eyes and began to sit down, Sharp Tooth raised his hand, "Calm down." Before producing a full-body mirror out of nowhere. Harry was stunned. "Is that magic?" "Yes." Sharptooth looks like fun. "Wow. Can you teach me?" "You will learn the best art of magic at Hogwarts. Before you ask, it's a British school for wizards. You'll go there when you're eleven years old." "I understand." Harry nodded, accepting his glasses back before remembering the reason why the mirrors were created. He moved and with difficulty, sat under his careful scrutiny. Harry tried to move his legs, but found out they were tied up. Harry frowned, his hands came into contact with what he could only describe as a smooth, cold and strange textured surface under the blanket. What was that? "What?" Harry murmured, pulling the white blanket. Instead of looking at his legs tied by something strange of scaly leather, he found what looked like a long tubular object that stretched from his waist to the bed, where it narrowed at a thin tip. The edge of the textured surface a few centimeters below the navel. It was completely flat against his skin and it was a very smooth transition from skin to ... to scales. A tail.