Harry Potter and the Arcane Trials

CH 14: Conversations with the Departed

Advanced Necromancy was not for the faint of heart. The class had always been intense, but today's lesson was bound to test the limits of every student present. As Harry took his seat in the dimly lit classroom, the air was thick with anticipation. Professor Malachar, a tall, stern wizard with a deep, gravelly voice, stood at the front of the room, his expression as inscrutable as ever.

"Today," Professor Malachar began, his voice slicing through the tension like a knife, "you will be reaching across the veil to summon a spirit from your bloodline. An ancestor, to be precise. Necromancy is not just about the manipulation of death; it is about understanding the connections between life and death, the ties that bind us to those who came before us."

Harry listened intently, his heart beginning to race. This was no ordinary lesson. The idea of summoning an ancestor was daunting. What if he saw someone he wasn't prepared for? He glanced around at his classmates. Cyrus was fidgeting, his eyes darting from the professor to the other students, while Selene was unusually still, her face set in a look of concentration.

"Each of you will perform the summoning individually," continued Professor Malachar. "Focus on your intent. Call upon the blood that runs through your veins to bring forth a member of your lineage. Let their spirit step through the veil and speak to you. You have fifteen minutes."

Harry took a deep breath as he stepped up to the front when his name was called. The room seemed to grow colder as he stood before the circle etched into the stone floor. He closed his eyes, centering himself, and began the incantation.

"Ex sanguine meo, ad mortem venite. Qui ante me venerunt, huc voco vos." The Latin words echoed in the stillness of the room, a low, resonant chant that seemed to reach into the depths of the unseen world. His voice trembled slightly, but he continued, his magic reaching out like tendrils through the void.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, the air around him began to shimmer, and three distinct forms emerged from the shadows. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he recognized them immediately—his mother, Lily Potter, with her vivid green eyes; his father, James Potter, with his messy hair and lopsided grin; and Sirius Black, looking as roguish and carefree as ever.

"Bloody hell..." Harry whispered under his breath, his eyes wide with shock. This was far from what he had expected.

Lily smiled, her eyes soft with a mixture of love and sadness. "Harry... my darling boy," she said, her voice like a soft breeze on a summer's day.

James grinned widely, his eyes twinkling with pride. "Look at you, all grown up and looking just like me. Except the eyes, of course. Those are all your mum's."

Sirius chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "And that hair... still as hopeless as ever, I see."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, a mix of joy and disbelief washing over him. "Mum... Dad... Sirius... I can't believe it. I didn't think... I didn't think I'd see you."

James nodded, his expression softening. "We've always been here, Harry. Watching over you, every step of the way."

Lily's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "You've grown into such a strong, brave young man. We're so proud of you."

Sirius smirked, but his voice was tender. "And a bit of a troublemaker, just like we were. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Harry swallowed, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I have so many questions... I don't even know where to start."

"Then start anywhere," Lily encouraged gently. "We have a few minutes. Let's make them count."

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding. "Are you... are you okay? Where you are now?"