It's All Just Temporary with a Bit of Necromancy

Chapter 13: It's Just Strategy

It's Just Strategy

POTTER CONFIRMS NECROMANCY: Harry Potter speaks about his magical inheritance but insists he isn't Dark

Harry glanced at the headline and quirked an eyebrow. It was a pleasant distraction from the feeling of his skin wanting to combust. "I don't remember actually saying I wasn't Dark, just that Necromancers were misunderstood."

"It is a well-done article. It seems Ms. Skeeter might be looking to get in your favor," Marvolo commented, sipping his morning coffee.

The only thing Harry wasn't fond of was the picture. The article was perfect, it painted him as the naive, desperate, Golden Child the Wizarding World still expected him to be. The picture actually benefited the portrayal as well, he just couldn't remember a camera. He supposed Rita's movement with her wand made sense now.

It was a picture of when Harry was showing his Mark. His Gryffindor tie still dangled around his neck as the picture showed him pulling his unbuttoned shirt to the side. His eyes wide and innocently pleading with a look of hopeful approval, while his free hand messed with his hair. His mark was bold and clear, leaving no doubt of the claims.

"I didn't know she was taking a picture though. She should know not to take too much liberty," Harry scowled slightly before briefly scanning the article. Not everything that had been discussed had been included, like how his O.W.Ls weren't sent out nor how he wasn't returning to Hogwarts. He wondered if she was saving those for another article to come out later.

"What are your plans?" Marvolo asked at the end of the meal.

"Practice. I'm working on control." He needed to unleash some of his power to relieve the maddening feeling. "And then meeting with Avery to see what he has gathered."

"I noticed you were up earlier today."

"You said yourself that physical fitness was beneficial in terms of dueling endurance and my books say the same. So I've decided to start running. Quidditch gave me a foundation and your dueling practice helps but I enjoyed it this morning. So I'd like to continue." The running also helped relieve the burning and itching and the desires to let loose with his magic. It was only a temporary solution though since as soon as he returned to his room the desire and itch were back in full force. He had almost clawed his skin off in the shower that morning it was getting so bad.

"No need for such a defense. I fully approve. Occasionally, I might join you." Harry couldn't stop his eyebrows rising but he wasn't as opposed as he probably should have been. Harry hated to admit that he was actually enjoying their dueling and the meals they shared were fairly enjoyable.

Harry smirked a little. "Well you can join but whether you can keep up is another story." The glare and challenge flaring in those red eyes made Harry laugh outright.

It was two hours later that Harry found himself seated in the gardens outside of Slytherin Manor practicing the meditative breathing exercises needed for control. Seated was actually a very loose description, contorted was the more apt description. He was in one of the poses that the guidebooks suggested and the concentration it took to hold the pose while focusing on his breathing wasn't providing enough of a distraction.

He felt thirsty for the heady rush, he dreamed of the cool embrace, he longed for the detached observation that could take him out of his own head. He had to master this soon or he would lose control.

Harry faced a rose bush. Concentrating on the vibrant red color of the head, the delicate softness of the petals, the rich green of the stems and leaves. Breathe. In. Out. Breathe. In. Out. Tentatively, Harry looked deeper into himself. The book and journals described the process of calling forth the icy fire by finding his center. Weylyn Peverell, Ashur's grandson, had been the first to really describe the process in his journals and concentration was vital.