3 Depositing his R-Card

Satanism hadn't ever been a subject Harry had thought about, or even considered existing... It was just so, foreign to him. This was only amplified when he began studying it, reading about the various actions purportedly committed by those affiliated with it.

The book he owned was more like a modern interpretation of it, combined with some degree of mysticism and magic. It never outright stated anything, leaving things vague and up to the readers own interpretation... Harry's cynical side decided that the people who printed the book wanted to avoid lawsuits, but his curious side was intrigued by the mystery of it.

Magic. Something he used to laugh at whenever someone was seriously speaking about it (with the exception of street magic that made use of sleight of hand), the concept was as unbelievable as the existence of God.

Despite his immediate response though, he was more receptive to the concept of magic than he'd initially thought. The strange occurrences that sometimes happened around him would explain most of it, but he wasn't narcissistic enough to believe he was 'special', born with an ability no one else had.

He would have thrown the book away already, if he wasn't still on the fence about it... So, to alleviate his worries, he decided to conduct one of the rituals within the book. It supposedly required lead paint mixed with blood, a living sacrifice, a blade with which to kill it, and some candles.

While Harry had no money of his own to speak of, gathering the materials was fairly easy... His relatives kept a store of lead paint in the cupboard. Why? So they could poison the bottles of water they gave him. It wasn't a bad plan either, even if he noticed what they were doing he couldn't refuse to drink it, or they'd simply beat him and leave him without drinks.

Plus the fact that if he died from heavy metals poisoning they could act like they had nothing to do with it... Add the fact everyone thought he was a stupid, thuggish, troublemaker, and the Dursley's would get off scot-free.

As for the sacrifice? There was a hole in his cupboard that rats occasionally came through to steal the crumbs of food he left. He didn't block the hole either, as they provided something to alleviate his boredom as well as an energy food source should he truly need it.

A knife was easily acquirable, he'd just 'borrow' it from the kitchen in the night. To be honest, the hardest part about it all was finding some candles... He planned to head back into the forest to see if the 'Satanists' had left their candles.

Fortunately, when he checked it again, he had found stump-like candles with strings barely long enough to light.

So, after everything was gathered he headed back into the forest during the night. The Dursley's wouldn't notice his absence, nor the missing lighter that he'd taken to light his way somewhat.

Once he'd reached his destination, cut his wrist lightly and wrung it so the required amount of blood was dropped into the lead paint. This turned it slightly crimson, but the book stated that this was meant to occur.

Next, he drew the ritual circle with a pentagram within it, making sure to do it as accurately as possible as to not botch the experiment with some rookie mistake.

Once that was done, he lit the candles and stepped inside it while chanting the words the book stated. "Dark Lord, this faithful one requests your aid. Grant me this boon so that I can continue my service in thy name. In return, I gift you this lowly being's life and soul." Harry intones.

The ritual was supposed to grant good luck, and the duration of which would be dependant on the worth of your sacrifice. A rat wasn't considered much, but was recommended by the book for beginners...

After reciting the words, Harry retrieves the rat from his pocket and holds it tight in one hand, while the other grips the knife. The creature squeaks and squirms, as if it could sense his intentions, biting his hand a couple times in an attempt to free itself.

By now the flames atop the candles had increased in intensity, despite their poor condition. Harry, after a moment of hesitation, presses the tip of the knife into the chest of the rat, slowly piercing through it, until he could feel the tip touch the palm of his hand.

He drops the dead rat in the center, but as he does this he has a premonition that something seriously wrong was going to happen. Quickly, he leaps backwards, in direct opposition to the will of the book. This turns out to be the right decision too, as the flames of the candles grow to a ridiculous degree and move towards the corpse of the rat, snatching it up and incinerating it, along with everything else inside the ritual circle.

...

"Did I do something wrong?" he mutters to himself, not feeling any different... If he had stayed inside the circle he would have been horribly burned, perhaps even to death. The book stated that he'd feel a tingling presence on his skin, and that was the signal that the ritual was complete... Afterwards, you were supposed to pack up everyone apart from the corpse and leave...

While he was still disappointed by his apparent failure, there was something else more pressing for his attention... Magic was real, and he'd just performed it.

He continued to just stare at the empty ashen ritual circle in shock, his assumptions on reality and how the world worked having just been shattered into a million different pieces... Did other people know magic existed? If so, why did every place he looked dispute it?

His train of thought scoured his memories, looking for signs and easily finding them. His apparent invisibility, teleportation, levitation... All of it was real, and not just him losing his mind.

Was this the reason the Dursley's hated him? Was he a freak because he can use magic? It would make sense, putting into context just what his 'freakishness' actually was... He rubs his temples, the flare of anger and righteous indignation towards his relatives feeling unnatural, and not his own.

Needing to gather his thoughts, he quickly started heading back. The night was still young, so he took the time to clean the rat blood from his hands and place everything he'd taken back in their rightful places.

Once everything was done, he headed back to his cupboard, for a long, tense, and sleepless night.