InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Demon Hunter ❯ Resolve and Yardwork ( Chapter 2 )

Chapter 2

Harry continued to stare at the book on his bed.What the hell? He decided the moment he saw it, it would be a bad idea to touch it, just incase it was a portkey. The last thing he needed was to be kidnapped and used to resurrect another dark lord. Harry visibly shuddered at the memory. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he grabbed his wand and pointed it at the book... and then poked it.

Nothing happened.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he set aside his wand and carefully picked up the book with his hands. The leather cover was cool against his skin and it was surprisingly light for the amount of text it appeared to have. Harry ran his hands along the cracked bindings only to find his fingers tracing strange runes burned into the leather. The burnt black color was camouflaged into the dark brown skin of the face of the book so it was easily missed.

Harry slowly curled his fingertips around the insides of the cover and pulled it carefully apart. The book wouldn't open. He pulled harder—digging his fingernails into the leather. It still wouldn't budge. Sighing in defeat, Harry frowned dejectedly and tossed the book onto the bed. He noticed there was an odd feeling of excitement fluttering in his chest when he was holding the book. He read the cover again.

Blood Magic and Rituals

Blood Magic...

Harry stared at the title.

Blood...

His instincts were screaming at him. But it was crazy—it was sick. Then again...he was a wizard. And after some of the things he's seen...

With a look of newfound determination he began searching frantically for anything sharp. Finding nothing in sight Harry hopped over the edge of his bed and landed in a crouch next to his trunk. The lid was immediately thrown backwards and he began battling through the sea of robes and books until he hit the bottom. One of his hands grasped the cold jagged edge of a shard of the broken mirror. He pulled it put of his trunk and walked calmly back over to his bed.

`I'm sorry Sirius,' Harry thought and he poised the once gift from his godfather over the book. He then made a shallow cut on his finger and watched the blood collect and bead under the appendage. The surface tension snapped and a single droplet of blood fell through the air before splashing onto the aged cover of the book. Harry held his breath as nothing happened. Maybe he needed more blood?

As if an enormous gust of wind suddenly blew through the open window, the book flew open; pages flipping through magically until they reached the beginning paragraph. Harry stared in awe. With slightly shaking hands, he lifted the book up and began to read through the introduction.

Blood magic was what was known as wild magic: unknown to be whether completely dark or light. It could easily be used for both purposes and always required some amount of blood. The more powerful and complicated a spell or ritual— the more blood required. Not everyone had the ability to use blood magic. Those with a pure soul would be unable to wield it because of the sinister process of taking blood.

It was dangerous. It was immoral. It was perfect.

`Voldemort,' Harry thought with smirk that would make Malfoy proud, `You're going down.'

##DODODO##

The next morning Harry woke up bright and early at six A.M.. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and one of Dudley's old T-shirts, Harry slipped on some sneakers and snuck out the front door. Without delay, he started a light jog. He wanted to take it slow at first, so not to over exert himself, and gradually work up to a good stamina. After all, he hadn't been running much since his “Harry hunting” days. Of course there was also a bit of running from a pack of ravenous arachnids, crazed werewolves, and a few sadistic death eaters, but that was nothing compared to `Big D' and his gang. Besides, he knew he was in better shape than most wizard boys his age, especially the purebloods, even if he was a bit on the runty side. The combined efforts of manual labor from the Dursley's and Quidditch helped tone his body into respectable shape, but not near enough for what he needed to be in.

Harry returned from his jog about forty-five minutes later with the front of his shirt soaked in sweat. He ran upstairs to do a few simple sit-ups and pushups then stretched out to prevent any pulled muscles. Afterwards he jumped into the shower before heading down to cook breakfast for the family. The Dursley's were a bit shocked to see him cooking breakfast for them again after being a recluse for the last few days, but were silently thankful. Though they'd never admit it, Aunt Petunia's cooking paled in comparison to Harry's.

Harry spent the rest of the day in his room reading his book and trying out different types small rituals, such as banishing things or making small shields out of blood. The most advanced he'd gotten in the book was creating and controlling blood whips. Not once in his research was he sent a letter from the ministry.

This was how his schedule went everyday. Everyday he would grow gradually stronger magically, mentally, and physically. He would not be taking shit from Dumbledore, Fudge, or Voldemort. By the end of this war—they would respect him.

##DODODO##

Harry stood in front of the stove flipping pancakes and whistling an unknown tune. The Dursleys were due to be up sometime within the next ten minutes. As he walked away from the stove for a moment to grab some juice glasses, he ran a hand through his damp hair and noted that it ran well past his ears. A loud thumping noise shook the loose plaster from the ceiling as his uncle made his way down the stairs shortly followed by his son. Dudley had lost a great deal of weight over his last year at Smeltings. While he still looked heavy, more of the arm muscle he developed in boxing was visible and a lot of his acne cleared up. Lately he and his gang took to hunting girls rather than small defenseless children.

Harry silently served his uncle and cousin and set a plate aside for his aunt before dishing some out for himself.

“Boy,” his uncle grunted while fixing him a glare, “The lawn needs to be mowed and your aunt wants the garden weeded before lunch today.”

“Alright,” Harry said passively. In truth, he did not mind the manual labor his relatives assigned him. It helped keep his mind off Sirius. His aunt chose that moment to enter the kitchen. She granted him one, petty sneer before sitting down at the table to eat.

After breakfast Harry began cleaning dishes while his aunt and uncle discussed what was wrong with the world. Dudley seated himself in the living room to watch some T.V.. Deciding it would be better to get the lawn work done now before the sun got too hot; Harry made his way towards the front door.

“It's Reg, Reginald Fairfield!” He heard someone screaming from the T.V. as he passed the living room. Harry rolled his eyes at some of the dumb sitcoms his cousin watched.

The weeding took longer than Harry had expected it too, probably from the neglect it suffered while he was away the year. It was almost eleven by the time he rolled the mower out of the shed. The sun had heated up to unbearable degrees and Harry was forced to remove his shirt before he sweated to death. He grimaced as he gazed at his light complexion. While not overly pale, he was in dire need of a tan and made a small vow that by the next time he saw Hermione he would at least by darker than her.

By the next half hour, Harry was only done with half of the lawn. He could tell by the random catcalls and snickering from one of the hedges by the road that Tonks was on duty. Therefore he made it a habit to make discreet rude gestures at that particular shrub.

“HEY SEXY!” a loud feminine voice called from across the street. Harry's head snapped up, and to his surprise, saw an attractive young woman running towards him from across the street. She wore a tight white t-shirt that stretched across her large bust and revealed her midriff along with very short red shorts and clunky black hiking boots. Her light brown hair was swept back in a half-ponytail and she looked to be a little older than he was. There was no way in hell she was talking to him; she was just way out of his league. From his left he could hear an increasingly annoying snicker. Harry made a mental note to beat Tonks with that damn umbrella stand she's always tripping over.

“Hi there!” she said warmly as she hopped in front of his face. Apparently she was talking to him. Harry turned off the mower and casually rested his thumbs in his back pockets. He let his fingers brush his pocketed wand wearily. To hell with what Moody said—he'll put his damn wand wherever the hell he wants to.

Harry unconsciously blew some of his long bangs out of his eyes as he watched her. A small habit he picked up sometime before the end of his 5th year.

“Hey,” he said as coolly as possible, hoping against hope that he wouldn't make a fool of himself.

“So anyway...” the girl continued, “I was chilling across the street over there and saw a potential sex god... which would be you... incase you`re that slow. Anyhoo, I got this insane urge to turn you into my sex slave and thought I should ask you before I took you by force.”

Harry stared at her. What...the hell? He must have looked pretty dumfounded because the girl sighed exasperatedly at his silence.

“So, what's your name? Unless you want me to call you sex god?”

Just after she said this, a dreamy and lustful expression passed over her face. Harry continued to stare at her. This had got to be the weirdest chicks he's ever met. Of course it wasn't like he'd talked to a lot of girls before, being locked in a cupboard for the majority of his life and all that. He could tell that she was American by her accent and wondered if all of them were like this overseas.

Harry didn't want to tell her his name incase she was a witch, which he doubted, but just to be on the safe side: “It's Reg, Reginald Fairfield.”

...Now where the hell did that come from?

The girl stared hard at him for a long while—as if she knew he was lying.

“Shiva!”

Harry and the strange American girl both turned to face a young man with a short, dark ponytail jogging across the lawn to where they were standing. Harry immediately recognized him.

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Yep… that took awhile.

Just FYI- this is NOT a Mary-Sue. I hate those.

Secondly...yes, the title has a lot to do with Harry.

Also: I know the whole blood magic thingy is kind of sketchy but this is how its gunna be for the story- blood magic that had to do with actual physical blood, that you can touch and manipulate, is the dark stuff. The blood magic involving Harry's safety is more like blood dealing with relations and what's running inside him. If that made any sense at all. Whatev.