Chapter - 83 : Blood Quill and Rebellion part - 3

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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

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"Damn."

Any further conversation was forestalled when Mrs. Weasley poked her head into the room. "Dinner's ready." Prompting the teens to leap up and hurry down the several flights of stairs to settle down around the table.

Dinner was a peaceful affair, conversation about the events of first term was exchanged, tales of Umbridge's evil deeds were relayed, and the younger members of the group tried and failed to wean information from the Order members.

After several servings of a hearty blueberry tart, Mrs. Weasley shooed the disgruntled teenagers off to bed "You've had a long day and you need your rest."

"All right, good night everyone."

"I hope you don't snore, Zabini." Draco muttered as the teenagers made their way up the stairs.

"I've been sharing a dorm with you for four and a half years," Blaise said with exasperated amusement, "you damn well know I don't snore."

Harry couldn't sleep. Mrs. Weasley had gone all out preparing for their arrival, she'd cleaned the house until every surface gleamed, she'd stocked the pantry and icebox with every food item imaginable, and she'd moved from room to room casting strong warming charms to ward off the winter chill. They were too strong.

Harry was dying, his skin crawled with discomfort and his entire body was layered with a thin sheen of sweat, he'd stripped down to the bare minimum the moment he'd climbed into bed and hadn't even bothered to crawl under the covers. Unfortunately, neither action did anything to cool his body down.

He only endured a few minutes of the stifling heat before climbing out of bed and stumbling over to the window; it took more time and energy than he'd care to admit to wrench it open, but the rush of freezing air was completely worth the effort.

Harry collapsed onto his bed in relief as the warm air was swept out of the window and replaced with a refreshingly cold breeze. His strong aversion to warmth unsettled him more than just a bit, and brought forth the reminder of the experiment he'd conducted and the frightening results it yielded. He hadn't tried it again since that day in Privet Drive, and he'd tried his best not to think about it, but every now and then, especially at times like this, he couldn't help but ponder what it meant, what was wrong with him.

With every speculation, Harry's thoughts turned darker and darker, as he deliberated the changes occurring to his body he wondered if he should tell someone about them, namely his father. Something could be wrong with him, something to do with his mixed blood, something that could only be fixed if he told his father about it.

With a small sigh, Harry rolled off of the bed and crossed the room to his trunk where he retrieved a single item tucked into a small compartment in the side of the trunk, then curled back up on his bed. The cold air had soothed his frayed nerves, but they did nothing for his raging thoughts. There would be no way he'd be falling asleep with his mind racing a mile a minute so he might as well attempt to get in contact with Loki.

The object he was slowly turning around in his hand was a small, flat stone, about half the size of his fist and a soft glowing blue; a single rune was carved into one side of the stone, ehwaz for communication.

Harry sent a small burst of magic into the stone and waited silently, watching; for several long minutes nothing happened, but then it warmed in his palm and began softly pulsing with his magic. The message had been received, all he could do now was wait.

The stone was the only way father and son could communicate when Loki was in Asgard. When Harry wanted to get into contact with his father he would power the stone with a bit of his magic, the rune on the rock activated a similar stone in Loki's possession, informing the god that his son was in need of him. Whenever Harry activated Loki's stone, Loki would activate Harry's in return to show that he had received the message and would proceed to travel to Midgard as soon as he could.

Luckily, Harry barely had to wait half an hour before his father arrived in his bedroom, slightly out of breath and concerned for his wellbeing. "What is it, little trickster? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Harry lied. "I just missed you is all."

Loki knelt at his son's bedside, worry etched in every line of his face. "Are you trying to catch your death? It's freezing out there and you have your window wide open."

"I was burning up."

"Hmm." Loki rested the back of his hand on Harry's forehead. "You are a bit warm, are you certain you're all right?"

"I'm certain," Harry assured him. "Mrs. Weasley just overdid it a bit on the warming charms."

"Well, do you think you're sufficiently cooled down or do you need to risk catching pneumonia for a while longer?"

"I think I'm cooled down enough."

"Good," Loki waved a hand and the window slid closed again. "Now, you said you summoned me because you missed me, nothing else?"

Harry bit his lip, now would be the perfect time to tell Loki, to fill him in on the odd things happening to him, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. Some part of him, the part that had been horribly abused by his relatives, was afraid that if he told his father about his blue skin and aversion to the heat, the man would look at him in disgust and denounce him as his son. It was a foolish thought, but it was there.

"No," he murmured, coming to a decision. "Nothing else."

It would remain his secret, if only for a little while longer.

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Loving the story so far? There's a whole world of magic and mystery waiting for you with over 85+ chapters still to come! By supporting my Patreon.

You not only get early access to new chapters but also exclusive content, behind-the-scenes insights, and special perks just for fans like you.

Join us on this enchanted journey and help shape the future of the tale. Your support makes all the difference—discover more and become part of the adventure today!

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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

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