Chapter 78: Of Frustrating Crests

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I would like to thank my beta, Akisu, for his help in this chapter.

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8 September 1992, Hogwarts

Still, with a concrete plan to deal with the financial side of his duties, Harry thought back to his main problem. The Basilisk. With the ingredients still not having arrived, Harry needed to figure out how to actually fight a Basilisk in case he had no other choice. And for that, Harry would need one of his most powerful assets, one that had saved his life in the past, and unfortunately, one that he still had no idea how to use. He needed to figure out how to use his magical crest.

The weekend was over, and Harry hadn't really progressed in finding a way to kill the Basilisk. He didn't want to fight the damn snake, but if he had no choice in the matter, it was better to have at least a plan in place.

As far as he could tell, a Basilisk had very few weaknesses. Well, they couldn't really be called weaknesses, more like vulnerabilities. Their skin was impervious to all magic and was pretty much indestructible. The venom had some kind of bullshit magic negation properties, that's not to mention that it could eat through mundane objects as if it was acid. The only weaknesses were the eyes, which also happen to be one of its greatest weapons, and its open maw. Even then, the very flesh of a basilisk was resistant to magic, meaning that spells would not really affect the damn thing. Although a rooster's cry could kill hatchlings, and severely hurt young basilisks, it doesn't really affect the older ones, which develop an immunity to it as they grow. Perhaps, somehow amplifying the impact of the rooster's cry was a viable option? Nah, he would need to study Basilisks in general and have a few to test his theory before perfecting it, and that wasn't really possible. And if it was a viable option, the old Basilisk hunters would have done it somehow, yet there was no mention of this method being implemented.

What the old hunters did was train an entire generation of blind bats to attack the thing's eyes, and after it was blind, they would either try to immobilize it or kill it with enchanted weapons into the brains. Back then, it was the knights' duty to kill the monsters threatening the populace, and of course, they were equipped with the finest enchanted weaponry and armour, sometimes even blades of legendary power that had existed for centuries.

As for how they immobilized the beasts, thankfully, ice was surprisingly effective. A Basilisk is a giant snake, and it prefers a hotter environment. Master Cryomancers were often employed to freeze the creatures and chain them up in enchanted ice until the knights killed them. Even just making the battlefield cold was enough to slow basilisks down, making the other steps go smoothly.

Yeah, wizards were really hardcore in the Middle Ages and even then, it took teams of around a hundred wizards to hunt a single Basilisk, and now Harry could possibly need to do it by himself, and that was fucking terrifying.

He needed to get started on Cryomancy and get his hands on any kind of enchanted weaponry, to either copy it if he could or just use it in desperation. He had already scoured the forbidden section for books on Cryomancy and started practising it slightly. His progress was somewhat slow, but it was still good enough. After all, Cryomancy was more than just casting ice spells. It was the pure manipulation of ice and cold. A master Cryomancer could literally freeze anything, and manipulate the element without a second's thought. There weren't any spells or rituals, just pure magical manipulation. The young Slytherin might be a magical prodigy but the mastery over any element took decades of hard work. And even if he was cheating a bit with his Arcane Hearing, it would take a month for Harry to be proficient enough to use it reliably.

A master ice mage could literally freeze Fiendfyre, that's how dangerous this is. It was so far beyond anything taught in Hogwarts it wasn't even funny. As far as he could tell, only a handful of actual Cryomancers were still alive in the world, and they were taught that skill when they joined a guild, definitely not before.

Ice magic always leaves this sense of detachment in Harry. If he had to describe it using his arcane hearing, it would be like having a strict song that's rhythmic and measured, with something like a drumroll in the back. In the past few days, Harry was able to move an ice cube with just Cryomancy – not telekinesis. He was a long way from sucking the heat from an atmosphere or creating giant icicles out of nowhere, but it was still progressing. The books he had found were not really impressive. It was just the basics of how the magic worked, with a few exercises to get familiar, but it was enough to get going. A competent wizard doesn't need step by step instructions, after all, just an understanding of the theory and enough time for experimentation. To be a mage is to walk with Death.

Now, a problematic part of his research so far had been about weapons. Having spent the entire weekend learning about Ice magic, Harry wanted to take a little break and see what he could unearth about magical weaponry in the library and it was a pretty complicated subject. Legendary Magical weapons were generally either made with Adamantine or Goblin Silver. There were rumours about the exitance of Mithril, but no traces of the miracle metal could be seen today. Adamantine was pretty much an alchemically treated metal that was pretty much indestructible once it was forged. It was pretty useful in armour since it had also magic negating properties. But for the enchantments to hold permanently, Goblin Silver was used. No one knew how it was made, only that the Goblins outright denied making any more of it after Godric Gryffindor died without returning the sword, he had commissioned from them. When they refused, everyone started refusing, which started an entire Goblin rebellion.

No one knew how it was made, nor why Goblins were so enraged whenever someone refused to return it, but what is known about the metal, is that it can be very easily enchanted to a ridiculous degree and that it can absorb whatever makes it strong, including potions and elixirs. It was honestly overpowered and could make some ridiculous swords. There were rumours the swords of the knights of the round table were made of Goblin Silver, and well, Galantine, Gwaine's sword which summons a solar flare of all things. Yeah, that was both awesome and terrifying.

But the bad thing was that magical weapons were officially banned from the Wizengamot after the war with Grindelwald. Apparently, families who had access to these weapons used them, which cause a lot of damage and Deaths. A lot of weapons were confiscated and destroyed for 'crimes against wizard kind' and the very knowledge of magical forging and developing said weapons were also banned thanks to a Wizengamot vote passed in 1947. This was limited to Britain alone, the rest of Europe had been quite happy to keep their swords, staffs, sceptres and mighty artefacts. Honestly, most of the books who wrote about it called it one of the stupidest decisions ever made in magical Britain, but they were kinda polite about it. They weren't books as much as rants. Albus Dumbledore was especially vilified because he spearheaded the movement and in a post war scenario, he was practically a godly figure that no one really wanted to oppose.

Long story short, Harry needed some goblin silver to make a weapon good enough to do something about it. Any information about forging weapons was censured heavily, but Harry could manage if he had access to them somehow. This was a dead end, but he could ask Arcturus Black about it later. He could give him enough pointers.

Harry spent the entire time eating his Dinner practically thinking about a way to survive what was coming. The materials for the glasses still hadn't come, and he had nothing to really injure the creature. The enchantment on the chamber entrance still hadn't been triggered, so that was still a dead end.

The Potter scion ignored the gossip about Malfoy getting into a fight with the Gryffindor Quidditch team because of some misunderstanding about reserving the Quidditch pitch or something. It ended up with Weasley cursing himself to vomit slug. Harry had forgotten that the redhead had broken his wand, which was a danger to himself and to others. He'll talk to Professor McGonagall about it later. But yeah, Malfoy was obsessed with his Quidditch practice and had left everyone alone so far. His rivalry with Longbottom was finally being useful for something, which was making him go away. The Slytherin common room was eerily calm these days.

Anyway, there was only one avenue that Harry hadn't explored yet that might be of some help. His magical crest. The very thought made the thing tingle slightly on his chest. The last two times he had used it, it had practically sucked him dry, and he wasn't even in control of himself. In a life and death situation, it was somewhat useful, but just practicing could accidentally kill him somehow.

No, he had to try. He couldn't just stay afraid of his own heritage. What he had done the last time were very intensive tasks. There had to be something in the crest that wouldn't nearly kill him for just using it.

Harry nodded to himself; his eyes filled with determination. Hadn't he said that he would no longer act like a coward? It was his family's legacy, his legacy, that he was afraid of. The crest had nearly killed him twice because there was no other choice. He had never trained using it, believing the books about the fact that the magic in the crests manifests after the thirteenth birthday of any mage. But that was for normal mages, and well, when had Harry ever been normal?

The green-eyed boy stood up suddenly from the Slytherin table and started to walk away. Daphne held his arm, "Where are you going?"

Harry gave her a gentle smile, "I just got an idea about something I was struggling with. I'll spend the night practising magic a bit. I know I've been distant in the last few days, but I promise I'll make time for all of you, but this can't wait. Don't wait for me in the common room, I might be a little late."

He didn't even wait for her to answer before walking out of the Great Hall. His body moved on its own, already knowing Harry's desired destination. It was in front of a familiar tapestry of a troll dancing in a ballet uniform. He opened the Room of Requirements, asking for a place to learn how to activate his magical crest safely.

The Room ended up giving him a relaxing office with some soft music playing in the background. Harry breathed a peaceful sigh before he sat on the chair and started thinking about how to activate his crest.

The last time it happened, it was because he was in danger, so the crest must have had an automatic danger sensing mechanism that activated and allowed it to take over. The young wizard had never heard of any defence measure of this nature in any other crest, but he wasn't a specialist and people tended to hide what their magical crests could do.

But it shouldn't only activate when it deals with a crest, Harry needed to channel his magic through his crest. He expected to feel pain, but it was strangely warm. The Raven in Harry's chest started to glow, and it looked like it was moving slightly.

Suddenly, Harry's mind was filled with a small arsenal of spells. He knew there was more later since the spells he had used during the few times he had activated the crest by accident were not there. Slowly, Harry chose one of them while looking at a pillow in front of him. It was a basic telekinetic push spell, and he activated it. Harry could feel his magic start to heat up, and some kind of glowing magical circle appeared in front of him. It glowed slightly and the pillow was banished away.

It was far more draining than a standard banishing charm, but despite it, Harry grinned to himself. He had finally used his magical crest on purpose.

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Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.