After scaring away the Dementors, Norberta looked at Harry and Pyra as they sat leaning against a tree, with Norberta resting her head in Harry's arms.
She then sat beside them as they recovered their strength. Harry looked at the dragon and smiled. "Thank you, you were a lifesaver," he said, rubbing her nose in affection.
Once he'd recovered, Harry climbed onto her back. Norberta spread her wings and soared into the sky, flying over the forest. Harry lay down against her scales, watching the evening sky, while Pyra stood proudly on her head, enjoying the view.
Even after the Dementor attack, Harry felt much better. The new energy inside him was like pure light—it soothed his mind. He tried to sense it, to use it consciously as they flew.
Back on school grounds, he found Aaric and explained what had happened, showing him the crystals he had collected.
"So, the Dementors leave drops when killed, huh?" Aaric mused with a grin. He glanced at Harry and shrugged. "Your new power seems to come from the ritual we performed. The Moonstreak Stag is an anathema to darkness, and its magic clearly suits you."
Harry nodded, remembering the first time he had used that magic. "So… how did it hurt Marge?" he asked.
Aaric paused. "She wasn't permanently hurt. It was like the darkness inside her was reflected back. Dad said when he treated her that there wasn't much physical damage."
Harry thought on it, then just shrugged. He still felt bad, but she had insulted his mother—that was his bottom line.
"Hey, want to hunt Dementors with me? I want to see if they leave any other drops," Aaric asked.
Harry ignored him and walked away.
Aaric only shrugged, raising his wand. A silver serpent Patronus flowed out, gliding through the school. He had been using it often to ease students suffering from the Dementors' presence.
On his way back, he spotted Luna hopping toward him with a smile. "Every time you do that, it's like you're showing me where you are," she said, grinning when she reached him.
Aaric waved a hand. "So… how was your day?" he asked.
She smiled dreamily. "Your Patronus is reducing the Wrackspurts in the school," she said happily, skipping along.
Aaric gave her a side glance and sighed. They chatted about classes as they walked toward the Ravenclaw common room.
Peter Pettigrew was a cowardly, pathetic man. Years spent as a rat had made him live like one, act like one, be treated like one because he had betrayed his friends and caused their deaths.
Now he fled again, hounded by Harry Potter's salamander, which would lunge for him whenever no one else was near.
At last, he reached his master in Albania, following rumors of possessed and undead animals.
Voldemort was there, clinging to an animal's body, after which a new body was made for Voldemort, shaped by a ritual with Wormtail's help. The form was deformed and sickly, wracked by constant pain and kept alive only through potions.
"Here is your potion, Master," Wormtail muttered, placing the cup before him.
Voldemort's breath rasped as he drank. The hut in the woods fell into silence as he forced strength back into his withered body.
Two vampires entered. Their crimson eyes scanned the room, but the moment his presence touched them, they stilled.
They saw a veil covering one of the rooms and a strong presence inside.
"Welcome," Voldemort breathed. The words were soft, yet they carried like a hiss curling through their ears, as if he spoke just behind them. "I trust you have done what I asked."
Both vampires fell to their knees and laid out their offerings: rare beast parts, a scroll, and a bowl filled with their own blood.
They kept their heads bowed, unmoving. Wormtail stepped out, grinning. "You have served our master well. Take this small reward from his generosity." He handed them some potions.
The vampires bowed again and left.
Wormtail gathered the offerings and returned. Voldemort sat hunched in his chair, chest rising shallowly, but his red eyes burned. Wormtail bowed low, trembling under their weight.
"I want my stronger followers found," Voldemort whispered, each word slow and sharp. "These lesser creatures you have brought to me have their uses… but they are not enough."
"Yes, Master," Wormtail murmured.
"Bring me the scroll."
Wormtail scrambled to hand it over. Voldemort unrolled it, and a thin grin crept across his pale lips.
"They may not have been so useless after all."
Wormtail dared a glance at the parchment but froze when those red eyes flicked up. He dropped into a bow. "Forgive me, Master."
"This is the knowledge of a dark ritual," Voldemort said softly. "Crafted by a wizard of immense power. I acquired it in Nepal long ago and kept it hidden."
"Shall we perform it, Master?" Wormtail asked.
"Not yet." Voldemort's voice was thin, yet it filled the hut like a curse. "We need more materials. In the meantime, brew me a potion—vampire blood and Thestral bone. Follow my instructions. Fail… and you will learn what real pain is."
Wormtail's face drained of color as he bowed, hands shaking, while Voldemort's crimson gaze stayed fixed on him.
Aaric gave Dune some treats as he read the letter sent by Ars and picked up his pen to write a letter back. He also placed one of the black crystals given by Harry with the letter for Elder Huo to examine, as he was in Nepal learning under Nyxthar.
He had Care of Magical Creatures class with the Hufflepuffs as they were learning about Flobberworms today. Hagrid was doing his best, and Aaric helped him whenever he slipped up.
"I thought you would be teaching us about hippogriffs for the class, Professor," Aaric asked Hagrid, who shook his head.
"That's the thing, Aaric, he's a good boy, Buckbeak is, but he can still do some damage to a third year. Almost happened with them Gryffindors the other day. I figured we'd take it slow.," Hagrid explained with a sigh, seemingly disappointed in himself.
Aaric nodded. "That's good. I think hippogriffs are good for the fourth years, as they are more prepared if they get startled and attack."
A/n: I know you have the power stones, you just don't want to give them to me. Maybe I'll just keep the chapter locked up. (Twilight reference)