The Master of Death

Chapter49: Making up and Making out

To his immediate displeasure, Harry reappeared in the middle of a snowdrift. Spitting and cursing, Harry fought his way out of the wet heap, which slowly sank into his shoes and clothes meant for much warmer weather. He had to stop then shortly, leaning against the back of one of the many shops of Hogsmeade to fight off the lingering effects of nausea that came with a long-distance apparation. Merlin, he had forgotten how much he hated this.

After a few deep breaths and with clattering teeth, Harry eventually straightened up. He glared at Death resentfully, who was watching him not in the least affected by the whirling snowflakes in the air.

"I want my wand back," Harry voiced after a moment. He knew he sounded petty, but right now he couldn't bring himself to care.

Silently Death extended his arm, producing the curse-box seemingly out of nowhere. Harry plucked it from his grasp, shooting Death another dark look before he turned his attention to the wooden box.

There was no line, nothing indicating a lid. Just a smooth surface, with runes carved into them. Harry turned it in his hand, searching for some way to get it to open. And yet it seemed as if he was simply holding a square, solid piece of wood.

Frustration mixed with the freezing weather caused Harry to not linger too long. Instead, after having inspected the box for a few more seconds, he decided that this was a problem for later. He called upon the power of the invisibility cloak before he stepped through the shadows.

Harry spent the following half-hour trying to get the curse box to reveal his holly wand before he shoved it into his trunk as his dorm-mates woke to squabble over shower privileges. Even in the short while they were distracted, his attempts with the Elder wand bore little fruit.

Croaker had to have done something to it if he hadn't outright lied to Harry in regards to the curse boxes and their use in assassinations. Because how in the hell could someone be killed by an object if one wasn't able to open the box containing it?

Even when he focused to inspect the magical aura of it, the surface only seemed to be covered by a thin sheet of magic. Unfortunately, Harry had nothing to compare it to since he had only recently begun to investigate spells this way. If he had to guess, he'd probably say that it would come close to a shield charm. Yet even all his expertise - knowledge he'd gained from the books he'd read in recent times and even his years as an Auror - didn't help him much. If he'd still worked at the Ministry, Harry would've probably called a curse-breaker or simply approached the Unspeakables themselves about the matter, though he hadn't actually been very ambitious in reading about matters that weren't exactly required for his work back then.

Harry was half on his way to simply blow the thing up until he recalled that he could try to get his wand back another way. Something one couldn't ward against as far as he was aware.

He could simply try to summon it the way Death had once shown him.

And indeed. When he focused and pictured the wand in his hand, it materialized in his grasp.

More interestingly, as soon as the curse-box had lost its contents, the vanished lid reappeared and Harry could open and close it without problems.

Not even a magical aura was discernible anymore.

Unfortunately, Harry didn't have much time till he would have to head to his classes and after another mere five minutes of experimentation, the prophecy orb had found a new home within the box.

Not only would that keep nosy dorm-mates from getting a glimpse of something he shouldn't possess; it also brought the advantage that only Harry would be able to retrieve the orb. At least he doubted that someone other than an Unspeakable would be able to open it.