89 Chapter 89: Legacy

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31 October 1992, Hogwarts

It was odd, seeing this imperfect reflection of his own face. The man's silver eyes were glowing like full moons, but there was something else bothering Harry about them. Ah, yes, they were old eyes, wise eyes, that just didn't look right on someone his age.

Deciding to take the initiative, Harry calmly asked, "Who are you?"

"My name is Ignotus Peverell, young Potter. And I believe we have much to discuss."

For a second, Harry's face froze in shock. This was Ignotus Peverell? The man that had outsmarted Death itself? He looked so normal. From the legends, he should have looked older. After all, he's the only one of the Peverell brothers that greeted Death like an old friend when he died of old age.

Wanting to clarify, Harry asked, "As in THE Ignotus Peverell, from the tale of three brothers?"

The man's neutral face frowned slightly, "Do not always take legends and stories too seriously. Yes, I am that Ignotus Peverell, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that most of the legends of the Hallows are false. My brothers and I did not defeat Death by conjuring a bridge, that's for sure."

"So, where did the Deathly Hallows come from, then?"

The man gave Harry a mysterious grin, "Perhaps one day, young descendant, when you have proven yourself worthy, I will explain how the Hallows were made. But that's not why you're here, is it? You used a spell to communicate with your crest. So, tell me what you need. Why have you come?"

"Riddle. Tom Riddle. I need help dealing with him," Harry responded reluctantly.

It was a bit of a flaw of Harry's that he didn't like asking for help. He liked figuring things out himself, and sometimes, he tended to be too proud to ask for aid. He knew that it wasn't something good, but he had lived for a decade with the Dursleys without the luxury of help in any way, and old habits die hard.

Anyway, if there was anything he could trust, it was his very own crest. And he really needed the help. Tom Riddle had outsmarted him very easily, and it didn't seem to be changing anytime soon. The older student had a network of people under his control, including a professor. It was funny, in a way, that the soul shard of a Dark Lord, had deemed the man to be so incompetent that it put him under its control and made him teach properly. Riddle was evil and all, but at least he had standards.

So, yeah, he needed to know how to deal with a Basilisk in case that happens, and a way to track down the real Diary. He also needed to figure out how Riddle was controlling his victims. Mind control spells of that duration need some kind of anchor for the spell to work without it being obvious. The Imperius Curse, for all its advantages, was very easy to throw off after a few days without being reapplied, and Riddle wouldn't risk it on such a large network that he didn't always have access to, especially if he's masquerading as a student. So, he had to rely on compulsion charms that are connected to the diary and anchored with some kind of physical artefact to act as a target. That would allow him to send orders from far away without needing to connect to any other. Each order was technically a new spell, and if the compulsion charm was subtle enough, it wouldn't be obvious.

As far as he could tell, this was the method Riddle used, since it was the only way to order around Lockhart from inside the chamber without leaving it. So, Harry needed to find the artefacts on every single control victim, and destroy them, just to break Riddle's network.

Harry's ancestor broke him from his thoughts, "Ah, the soul shard. A very peculiar opponent, I must admit. I have to say that I have never seen something as delicate as a Horcrux used as a weapon and gain this much autonomy."

"I think he made a mistake during its creation. He killed another student by accident so he rushed it, so that her Death wouldn't be meaningless."

The silver eyed man snorted, "All deaths are meaningless, child. The Dead do not care about the living, it's why they're dead, after all."

"Then, why are you here?"

"I'm not really here. Ignotus Peverell died after living a long and fulfilling life. I am just an imprint of his consciousness in the magical crest that he granted his descendants. The fact that you're compatible enough to theoretically be his successor, is the only reason I showed myself. Of course, being compatible isn't enough. You have to prove yourself worthy of this knowledge, and well, I'm not holding my breath."

Harry gritted his teeth, "Why am I not worthy, then?"

"Because you're a coward," the man simply answered, "Oh, don't pretend to be angry at me. You know you're a coward, I'm inside your head, remember? If it was up to you, you would leave this school, go abroad and study magic in peace. You wouldn't concern yourself with this Voldemort and the Champion of Light. And well, I can't have someone so passive, so unwilling to do anything, be worthy of Ignotus' legacy."

"What about Riddle, then?" Harry protested, "How am I a coward in that case?"

"You are fighting because you are afraid. Afraid of the Basilisk, afraid of your friends getting hurt. Everything you do is out of self-preservation, nothing more. And even then, with all the advantages you have, you're still floundering about like some sort of headless chicken fighting a ghost."

"And why is having a bit of self-preservation a bad thing?" Harry asked.

"Because you're going too far with it, and I can see what giving you this knowledge will do to you. You will hole yourself up in a warded castle and stay there for all eternity. You wouldn't fight if you could avoid it, and I can't trust you to do the responsibilities that come with Ignotus' abilities because you are too afraid. That's not even mentioning the fact that your body can barely accommodate low level spells. Any moderate spell is liable to suck you dry of magic."

Harry was getting angry, but his most prevalent emotion had to be shame. Yes, Ignotus was right. He was living in Hogwarts while doing his best of distancing himself from the action. It was only when a threat to himself and the entire school appeared that he started opposing him and it wasn't going well. That needed to change, but he couldn't really do it on a whim.

"What am I supposed to do, then? How should I become worthy?" the Potter scion asked desperately.

"I guess the Riddle mess could work as a test of sorts. Defeat Tom Riddle and we can talk again about your role as my heir, well, Ignotus' heir."

"I just told you that I can't stop him," Harry protested.

"You can't stop him because you're playing in his field. This little game of shadows is his playground. He has been doing it for longer than you have, and his political ambitions, which you seem to lack, have driven him to hone that skill as instinct. Misdirection and trickery are his weapons, not yours. You have a remarkable mind, but you're an academic by nature, not a politician. So, even the playing field, use your own skills to do it. Instead of trying to figure out what happened to the Diary, try creating something that would track it down. Instead of trying to trick him into revealing himself, get him to overextend, make him overconfident and his innate arrogance will give you enough opening. Hell, you're trying to fight Riddle, when you have another clue somewhere. While Tom Riddle is brilliant, his possession victim is likely not to be the same. Build something to track down his thralls and destroy their anchor. Run around and say his name, look at people's reactions, and they will reveal themselves easily enough."

Harry gaped at his ancestor, "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you're young and inexperienced. This is your first real opponent, your first step towards your destiny and for all your intelligence, you lack the wisdom and experience to know what to do immediately. You will learn, as I learned as well."

"What about the Basilisk?"

The silver eyed man shook his head, "Salazar Slytherin's pet is not your average Basilisk. You are fighting the real king of serpents, their apex predator. This will be your first journey in the reverse side of the magical world, the hidden side of the magical world, if you would. This is not a monster that you are ready to fight, no matter how ready you feel you'll be. So, I'm going to break my rule once and give you a slight advantage. After all, you've been ignoring an entire field of magic for no reason. It's time to change that. Good luck, Harry Potter. Do not disappoint me."

Before he could do anything, the man turned back into his giant crow form and landed on Harry's right shoulder. The rest was so confusing, but in that fraction of a second, the entire world of shadows disappeared, and instead, thousands of images, visions, and scenes rushed before his very eyes. Scenes of battles, births and deaths. War and peace, nice cultivated and complete ruins.

He watched as the world broke into two factions of light and darkness, and spectres of the dead roamed the Earth once more. Armies of pure light burned away everything that came in its way, while the darkness consumed everything it could. He saw volcanoes erupting on the command of wizards, giant demonic monsters attacking everything in their way. He saw a man rising from a putrid fog forcing dark-robed figures to bow and acclaim him. He saw the best of both light and darkness fall in this endless way. A giant Kraken sinking muggle warships. Dragons as big as cities roamed the skies, roaring in defiance against a single man wielding a sword glowing with hope. Light and darkness fought a last time in the middle of fire, water, wind and earth. The end was coming, and a victor would be crowned in this endless war. Yet for all of this, Harry could see that what remained was a shadow of humanity, a mockery, not the real thing.

Harry did his best not to fall to his knees and yell out as the visions invaded his senses. But just as suddenly as they came, the visions disappeared, and the Potter scion gasped as the ritual room revealed itself to him once more.

He ignored the looks of his housemates. He was wearing a mask after all, and they didn't know who he was. Instead, he slowly walked away from the room, wanting to lie down on his bed again. It was a hectic day and Harry needed to process everything.

Well, for one, his magical crest held a remnant of Ignotus Peverell, one of the legendary figures in wizarding history, yet the man seemed unconcerned with Harry's well-being entirely. You would think that being his last descendant, he would be helpful. Well, the Potter scion would admit that the man helped slightly. He made Harry realize what he's been doing wrong all this time with Riddle.

Yes, Tom Riddle was a brilliant boy, but his main advantage over Harry was his age. Considering his political aspiration, his sheer charisma, and his age, he was probably the King of Slytherin when he made the diary. That meant that politics and cunning were second nature to him, and honestly, for all their similarities, Harry was a very different person.

They were both raised in neglectful environments, they were both geniuses and magical prodigies. But their hopes, their dreams, were wrong. Tom Riddle wanted to be recognized by the world, but Harry just wanted to study magic and understand it. Both are admirable ambitions, but that made their priorities fundamentally different.

With a jolt, Harry realized what his ancestor was talking about when he said he was giving Harry a gift. This was brilliant, why hadn't he thought of that before? For the first time in a few days, Harry had hope. He would defeat Riddle, and he would do it on his own terms.

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I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.

Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.