HP: A Magical Journey

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“I can’t help you.”

Silence dominated the room, but Quinn’s devastated expression spoke volumes to Alan, who sat opposite him with an expression of regret mixed with pity.

Quinn placed his elbows on the desk and clutched his head between his hands; his eyes scrunched closed tight— his deep breaths audible in the room. He had come to America to meet Alan because he had run out of options to try out and couldn’t find a road to progress— his hope was his master, who Quinn knew had dabbled into soul magic . . . yet here he was, hearing the words he didn’t want to hear.

«If he can’t help me . . . then I have no choice but to let the curse take over— maybe this time I’ll let it run longer, extract more benefits . . . more magic, more power, more magic, more power, more magic, more power, magic, power, magic, power, magic, power, magic, power . . . . DO IT!!!»

“What are you thinking right now?” asked Alan.

From within his hands, Quinn spoke in a scratchy voice, “. . . . That I don’t know what to do . . . that I don’t want to think about anything right now . . . that I . . . .”

Quinn’s voice faded with a sigh, his head still buried between his hands.

“Quite the standard reaction,” said Alan, “and while I’ll like to give you some time— I know you’d prefer to hear what I want to say as soon as possible.”

“What?” Quinn asked, shifting his head in his hands, giving Alan a look from his half-lidded eyes.

“Even though I said I can’t help you, that doesn’t mean I haven’t found some things that’d be useful to you. I have found some interesting things about the Sin curse— would you like to know?”

Quinn’s eyes widened as he sat up straight and intently stared at Alan with reinvigorated light.

Alan smiled.

“Now that I have gotten you interested, there are a few things I noticed from your memories and your soulscape,” said Alan.

“What sort of things?”

“Well, let’s get the disappointing stuff out of the way— I have zero clue about the runes that struck you in the Sin Vault. I’m not an expert in rune, after all— you probably are already much more knowledgeable about the subject than I am.”

“So . . . both of us combined have no clue about the source of the curse.”

Alan looked surprised as he raised his brows, “You too don’t have any idea about the runes? That’s surprising!”

“Believe me, I tried to find how those runes work— studied a lot on the individual runic languages that the rune clusters were constructed with, tried to find similar patterns in historic records and tomes . . . but there was nothing— not a single line of text I could find that would help me in the slightest.”

“That is too bad; it could have helped us much.”

“Yes, it could have,” said Quinn with a frustrated tone; the amount of time he had spent in studying for the Vault’s runes hadn’t paid out one bit.

“That was the disappointing news. Now, let’s move onto the next part,” Alan said, folding his hand on the table. “Even with you, bring the curse along with you . . . allowing me to enter your soulscape . . . and let me look through your memories— I’m not able to understand how the curse works or how it has taken a grip on you . . . .” Alan sighed as he continued, “You overestimate my capabilities, child.”

“What do you mean?” asked Quinn.

“While I’ve dabbled in soul magic, it is nowhere near the level of my mind magic,” said Alan with a half-wry smile. “I’m a dual natural with Occlumency and Legilimency, and that’s a big reason behind me reaching where I’m today with mind magic . . . but that level of progress doesn’t convert into soul magic. Not only is soul magic much more touchy it is also quite volatile. I had to move very carefully, which translated into a safe yet low return.

I had told you about this one when we last met, but I picked up soul magic so that I could diversify and spend some time away from mind magic, to give myself a break— and well, while I’m at a respectable level, it seems that the curse is not something my level can decipher and decode . . . completely.”

“Completely, you say,” said Quinn, “that means there’s something you did find.”

“I did,” said Alan sounding happy. “I think I was able to find a way for you to get rid of the curse . . . .”

“WHAT?! You did?! Tell me!”

“Now-now, calm down your hippogriffs,” said Alan motioning Quinn to calm down. “Yes, I might have found a way . . . but you might not like.”

“Eh, why wouldn’t I like a way to get rid of this damned curse?”

“Because it is not exactly pleasant,” Alan sighed.

“Tell me,” Quinn asked impatiently, leaning forwards, his hands joined together in a tight grip.

“. . . Quinn, you need to pull down the shield around your soul . . . and let the curse in.”

Quinn blinked once, then twice, and thrice. “Did you . . . did you somehow got the curse while inside my soulspace,” he put his hands forward on the table, “come on, let me take a look— it will be bad if both of us got the curse. If you really did catch the curse, then I’ll have to teach you how to suppress the voices until we figure out how to get rid of the curse.”

“There’s nothing wrong. I haven’t caught the curse,” said Alan, “but you indeed need to let the curse in.”

“But, why?!”

“Think about it, the last time around, what was the thing that triggered the expulsion of the curse from your soul?”

Quinn jerked back in his chair as the memory came up to the surface. He pursed his lips and bit the inside of his cheeks. “. . . I was going to punish . . . attack some students for bullying my friend.” ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀ​ꪶ​

“Yes, that is true, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then what . . . ?” Quinn furrowed his brows before they rose up. “You mean . . . .”

“Yes.”

“I used . . . my wand, and that was the catalyst which made me snap out it,” said Quinn. “But what does that has to do here?”

“From what I was able to judge from your memories last time around, in which you included a level your emotion— that was a great thing you did— I found out that you attempted to perform an action you hated so much, something that you would never want to do that your soul snapped back at the curse and expunged the curse— and. . .”

“And you want me to do the same this time around,” said Quinn, understanding dawning upon him.

“Yes,” said Alan, “you need to find something that you wouldn’t want to do at any cost and well do it. And right now, what’s the last things you want to do?”

“. . . I don’t want to let the curse take over my soul,” Quinn forced the words out with incredible difficulty. “But . . . ! What if it takes over and I am not able to escape it?! Wouldn’t that be worse!”

“. . . Quinn, have you noticed the state of your soulscape? It had started with a few blotches on the soulscape’s walls and thin veins on your shield, but now they have grown to the white walls covered thoroughly, and the shield has become the base to a thick cocoon.

Even if you don’t voluntarily let the curse get a chance at your soul, it will continue to grow stronger, and eventually, it will break through.”

Quinn had no reply. There were multiple reasons he had decided to be not at Hogwarts during Easter for the first time since he had started school. He had noticed that the curse was progressing to spread across his soulscape, and him snuffing the Sin voices was just treating the symptoms while ignoring the root problem.

“I won’t tell you to do it immediately,” said Alan. “You have to do it when you’re ready. I won’t be able to help you because you know how it feels to have an external soul inside your soulscape. What I can do for you is stay with you here before you have to go back home and help you prepare.

We probably won’t make any progress on your soul magic, but I can share my experience with you, and that might raise your chances to succeed.”

After a pause, Quinn said, “Let’s say that I let the curse in by disabling the shield, and my soul struggles back with the curse. Then what should I do afterward? I don’t want to leave the chances of my soul coming out on top to luck.”

Yes, his soul was stronger than before, but so was the curse, which had been growing inside his soulscape. He had no way to measure the chances of his success.

“If I fail, then I don’t know how long I would be out,” said Quinn. “I don’t know how long it will take for me to do something that would expunge the curse— not to mention, I would be under the influence in the period between— which believe me, I don’t want to be in.”

“It’s a risk that you’ll have to take,” said Alan. “It’s clear that the curse is growing faster than you’re growing your soul magic, so you can only hold it back for only so long.”

“I know, I know,” Quinn grumbled, scratching his hair.

Alan stared at Quinn for a while before he said bluntly, “You messed up.”

Quinn looked at Alan, startled.

“You made a mistake going inside the Sin Vault the second time. You did it because of asinine pride and an inflated ego— you had the Resurrection Stone, and if you continued to work with it without going to the Sin Vault, your soul magic would’ve slowly built it up— but you got greedy and decided to go in there looking for a treasure. You had no way of knowing if you’d be able to dodge the curse, yet you still went in there.

I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but it is the truth. So make up your mind, make a plan, and follow it until you have the curse out. That’s all there is to it.”

Quinn leaned into his chair and stared at the ceiling. It was as Alan said— pride and greed were his weaknesses. He had become greedy that with only one year remaining at Hogwarts, he only had one year to clear the Sin vault. And his pride didn’t allow him to be defeated by a mere vault; he had conquered all others in a single year; why should the Sin Vault be any different.

Resurrection Stone was just the justification that he needed for allowing himself into the vault.

He removed his eyes from the ceiling and looked at Alan.

“Alright . . . I’ll let the curse in— but I’ll do it on my own time. For now, I request that you help me.”

The option of letting in the curse in America was not a choice. If he fell to the curse in America, he wouldn’t be able to go back to Hogwarts, and that wasn’t an option as he had some important work to do— that if he missed, he would never get the chance to do again.

“Well then, it is decided,” Alan smiled widely. “We’re staying America . . . Now, let’s come to the more important thing.”

“What is it?” asked Quinn, there was something more important?

“The owner of this place is your sister’s boyfriend, right? Do you think he will let us come here every day?”

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Alan D. Baddeley – Master – I’m not giving this spot up.

Quinn West – MC – “I can’t give up . . . I have to regain the top spot.”

FictionOnlyReader – Author – But . . . is Alan right? Am I bluffing, or is there’s something else?

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