Defence, Pretence, Offence (Hecatemus Book #2)

Chapter 41 - Asking

The moment Harry had placed wild wand on the matrix stone it had initiated the ritual. Turning back to the stone now, he picked up the silver knife from the ground and brought his wrist over the bowl on the surface. The blade was very sharp and all Harry had to do was touch it to his arm for blood to begin to flow.

It hurt as the knife cut into his flesh, but Harry was distant from it, almost as if it was not really his arm that he was slicing. His life's blood dripped from the wound in a steady stream as he watched it slowly fill the small bowl in a detached almost serene manner.

Only as blood eventually dripped over the edge of the tiny vessel did Harry raise his arm. Draco took hold of his wrist and slowly brought his head down until his lips closed over the wound. Draco drank deeply and his mental presence felt intoxicated as Harry pushed his own magic through the channel of blood between them.

It was then that the sea of calm on which Harry's thoughts had been floating began to gather a storm. His heartbeat increased and excitement curled in the bottom of his stomach making him feel empty inside.

"Two are one," Harry whispered to the night as his head swam, "one is two."

Draco only let go of his arm reluctantly and when Harry looked up at his soulmate, Draco's eye were shining. The normally grey irises were sparkling with metallic facets and the whites were deep red. Blood had dribbled from the corner of his mouth over Draco's pale chin and down onto his white robe. His lover was beautiful and eerie in the white light of the moon.

"It is time," Draco said quietly, "I see with your eyes: it is coming."

Harry did not hesitate, he turned back to the stone in front of him and he dropped all his barriers. Adrenaline flooded his system as the thrill of what he was doing pushed away all other emotions. Draco's hands fixed back onto his shoulders and Harry picked up the wild wand from the stone and called to the magic of the circle.

The wand sent power off in four directions causing the circle to flare brightly, throwing silver to the sky and then the wild magic Harry had summoned by spilling his blood on the stone crashed into the barrier. This magic was cold and powerful and ancient and it swirled in hundreds of different hues as it beat against the power keeping it out.

Harry heard the exclamation from his godfather and turned to see Sirius unconsciously backing towards the edge of the circle. Without thinking Harry threw out his hand and Sirius froze before he could reach the barrier. There was no time to worry about what he had done or how he had done it; he had more important things to think about.

Letting his mind feel it Harry explored the power surrounding them with his thoughts. He found its currents and its eddies letting it dance around his senses, trying to understand it. This was true magic, uncorrupted by the will of man. It was dangerous.

This magic did not want to be harnessed, it did not want to be used, but it did not flee from his touch. The wild magic he had used with his wand was a mere reflection of the power that he felt throwing itself against the wards of the circle. It was an incredible feeling to be in the presence of such energy.

Harry found himself drawn to the power, sucked in by the energy and intoxicated by the sheer magnitude of the magic around him. It called to him and he wanted it; he wanted it badly. However, this was not a power that could be forced, it was a power that had to be coaxed, and Harry knew that it required something of him first.

Closing his eyes he tried to calm his thoughts and prepare his mind knowing that to do this he had to be completely focused on his task. The wild magic wanted to come to him and he was drawn to it as much as it to him. Harry knew if he was not careful he could easily lose himself.