GotSIS Ch.20: A New Project

9th January 2008

The Library of Cagliostro

The musty smell of old books hung in the air, dark, leather tomes and books arranged neatly over wooden shelves that floated in the air. Some books drifted through the air, under the candle-lit chandeliers that cast light on the floor below.

Harry sat on the ground between the shelves, a heavy tome in his lap as he peered into its aging, golden pages.

“Okay, the flying spell,” his murmur cut through the silence of the library. “Merlin knows I don’t want to try the rest of the shit. Sacrifices and whatnot.”

Harry kept the book away and rose to his feet, rotating his shoulders and wrists and taking a deep breath. Neville’s terrified face flashed in front of his eyes, the memory of the boy buckling atop the broom and smashing into the castle’s stone walls, rising like a storm. 

‘I should take precautions, just in case. I might fly well on a broom but this might not be the same.’ Harry grimaced. ‘I sometimes wish I had my Firebolt.’

He waved his hand and a shimmer of magic settled over the shelves and the stone floor, his feet rising and sinking back to the ground. Harry poked the shelf, feeling his finger being pushed back lightly before he could touch the wood. 

“Nothing to worry about. Hermione would approve.” 

He felt warmth surge through his chest and a faint smile curved on his lips. Harry crossed his palms, lines of soft blue magic spinning around his wrists, crawling up his arms, and under his sleeves. 

“By the wings of Garuda,” he intoned. “Grant me the ability of flight!”

Magic prickled his skin and thrummed. In an instant, he shot across the room, the wind whistling in his ears as bookshelves whizzed past him in a blur of brown and black. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” He moved his arms and veered sharply, slamming into the tall shelves and bouncing off onto the opposite side of the aisle. Books fell behind him and he let go of the spell, his back hitting the wood with a light thud.

He slid down, feeling his behind touch the ground like he had landed on a soft mattress, while his heart drummed in his chest. ‘Thank god for cushioning charms.’

Something heavy hit his head and his vision darkened, another thud of pain flaring into the darkness. Spots danced in his eyes as he thrust his hand up. 

“Protego!” An umbrella of magic stretched over his head and books thudded off it, as they fell from the shelves above him. “Shit.”

Warmth ran up his head and the pain faded, the spots in his vision disappearing. He rose to his feet, wincing at the books sprawled over the floor in heaps. 

‘Next time, I should take them into account too, I suppose,’ Harry winced. ‘Time to right it before O’Bengh kills me.’

With a few flicks of his fingers, the books flew back and he walked up the corridor, fixing anything he had slammed into. 

A shadow fell over his feet and he looked up to see O’Bengh appear, his staff clutched in his hand. “Are you alright, Sorcerer Potter?”

“I am. Just a little spell mishap.” Harry mustered an easy grin. “Everything’s alright. Nothing to worry about”

O’Bengh peered over Harry’s shoulder and looked around the shelves. Pursing his lips, he banged his staff, the books rearranging themselves. “Some of these books seem to be out of place. You wouldn’t have anything to do with it, would you?”

“I was trying something but it didn’t work out as well as I had hoped. The books are okay though. I had a cushioning charm over the place so they didn’t hit as hard as they could’ve.”

O’Bengh hummed. “Do be more careful. Sorcerer Potter. Knowledge is a privilege and you should treat it well.”

“I do. It was just a spell mishap.” Harry bit back. “It was not like I wanted to do it on purpose.”

“What were you attempting?” O’Bengh asked. “If I may ask, Sorcerer Potter?”

“Flying. I was attempting to fly. I couldn’t control the spell.”

“Self-levitation,” O’Bengh smiled, walking past him. “There are many ways one can achieve it, yet, each with their own limitations and yet, distinct advantages.”

“I thought you were just the guardian of these books.” Harry followed him down the rows of books. “I didn’t know that you knew about the knowledge that was held within.”

O’Bengh gave him a secretive smile. “I know enough about any topic of sorcery within these walls to make conversation with a seeker of knowledge, Sorcerer Potter. I also know enough to warn them when they might stray and to point them to what they seek in case they need it.”

“Warn, not stop?”

“It is my duty to guard these books, and what one does with knowledge and power can differ. It is not my place to pass judgment or even judge. Merely guide and warn.”

“Right,” Harry muttered. “You were saying something about flying?”

“Self-levitation, or in crude words, flying, is a skill Sorcerers and wielders of magic have always sought to achieve.” He turned right, leading Harry to another section of the vast library. “And they found it. There are spells, enchantments, relics, bargains, and many other ways that one can achieve what you desire. And each has its distinct advantages and shortcomings.”

“I’d rather avoid the path of bargaining with deities if I can.” Harry shuddered. “I have been warned that it can lead to outcomes I’d rather avoid. Like being tricked into eternal servitude to some demon.”

“That is indeed true, Sorcerer Potter,” O’Bengh summoned a book off the shelf. “Relics are perhaps the best way to achieve self-levitation. If you find one that accepts you, you could solve your quest.”

Harry shook his head. “The only relic I know that can fly is the Cloak of Levitation. And it didn’t choose me.”

“Unfortunate.” He tapped his staff on the floor in a slight rhythm, humming a tone under his breath. “Another easy way would be to absorb the power of those who possess what you seek. If you do it right, it shall be easy, effective, and even benefit you in more ways than one.”

“Absorb the power?” Harry blinked, lines creasing his forehead. “What do you mean?” 

“You defeat them— creatures, monsters, deities, or even gods who possess the ability to fly and take their power for yourself by absorbing their essence.” A smile curved on O’Bengh’s lips. “It’d sacrifice your opponent, of course but by doing so—”

“I’d rather not.” Harry held up his hand, his voice as sharp as the Daggers of Daveroth. “I’ll just master the spell instead. It might take some work, but I’ll get it down sooner than later. I am not sacrificing anyone to gain a bloody ability.”

A gleam of triumph flitted over O’Bengh’s face and Harry narrowed his eyes, irritation swelling in his chest. 

“Spells that enable self-levitation, Sorcerer Potter, are limiting,” O’Bengh said. “While you fly, most won’t allow you to cast any other spells, leaving you vulnerable. What you could do instead is much better.”

“I am not absorbing anyone or anything,” Harry snapped. “If you didn’t take the polite hint, I am telling you to get out of here. I would rather not take any suggestions after that.”

“I am giving you a far better one, Sorcerer.” He raised his hands placatingly. “It is one, that even the great Cagliostro applied. If you do not have a relic that allows you to fly, why don’t you make one yourself?”

He held out the book for Harry, and golden words shimmered onto it.

“Art of Relics?” 

“Lost in translation, perhaps, but it could be an apt name.” The book floated off O’Bengh’s palm, and flipped itself open. “Relics are not mere magical objects that any Sorcerer could create on a whim. The creation of a relic requires talent, skill, knowledge, an intricate understanding of the powers you wield, and above all, patience. Enchantments wear off through the passage of time. But a relic’s power? It stays the same as the day it was forged— or only increases.”

“So, I should make a relic to help me fly?” Harry frowned. 

“It can help you do more than fly if you intend it to.” O’Bengh shifted his staff. “Cagliostro, created two gauntlets which could act as a focus for his magic, allowing him to create shields, fly, hold and deflect spells, and even aid him control time.”

“Any chance I can find them lying around in here?” Harry’s eyes flicked around the room.

“They were destroyed in a battle against the demon Zarathos.” O’Bengh hung his head. “Perhaps you could recreate them.”

“They sound useful,” Harry commented. “Maybe I will. It could be a nice project.”

“If you wish to, you will find everything within these walls to aid you. But be warned, creating a relic of power is no mean feat.”

“All the more reason it’ll be interesting,” Harry smiled at him. “Thank you for the advice.”

He gave him a deep nod, before looking at him with penetrating eyes.

“Sorcerers who have created relics of power have their names etched in history, Sorcerer Potter,” O’Bengh said. “A relic you create for yourself, when in your hands, could be as dangerous as a god’s weapon. It can be anything you want it to be. But very few Sorcerers have had the temperament to create one. And those who did, live beyond the grave today.”

“That’s certainly tempting.” Harry eyed the book that floated in front of him. “I’ll definitely look into it. I’ll master the spell first though.”

“Then might I recommend trying the spell in a more open space?” O’Bengh pursed his lips. “It would prevent you from crashing into shelves and hurting the books.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Sure, care more for the books than for me.”

“Oh, I do, Sorcerer Potter,” O’Bengh said, shimmering away from view, leaving Harry in the library. 

Harry plucked the book from the air, eyeing it with intrigue and flipping through it. 

“A relic of my own. Could be interesting.”

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22nd January 2008

Bifröst, Asgard

The golden walls and intricate patterns of the room gleamed in the silver moonlight, falling over Heimdall’s dark hand. His amber eyes stared at the stars and the cosmos that stretched in front of him, his lips curving into a slight smile.

“Hello again, Harry Potter. I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”  The air next to him rippled and Harry’s translucent form floated off the raised dias, his hand grasping the eye of Agamotto over his chest. Heimdall’s eyes grew amused. “And you’ve learned to replicate what I did the last time you were here. Excellent.” 

“Thank you.” Harry looked around, his eyes latching onto the thousand twinkling lights and swirls that stretched as far as his eye could see “Is this the view you get every single night? It is beautiful.”

The slink of the sword reached his ears and the rings over the room spun. The view in front of him shifted. Galaxies swirled, stars burned brighter than the sun, planets formed and broke, and above all, a firebird screeched, its talons spreading fire to the planet.

“That’s the Phoenix,” Harry gasped. “In all her might.”

“Indeed,” Heimdall said as the bird of fire turned its eyes to look at him before the visual was snatched away, showing a beautiful night sky. “It is always so beautiful. Now, what brings you here?”

“A little birdy told me that Odin has chosen to crown his son, Thor, as the King of Asgard on New Year’s Eve.” Harry turned around and drifted in front of Heimdall. “Naturally, I had to come and ask.”

“Word spreads fast through the nine realms.” Heimdall nodded, his hands leaving the hilt of his sword. “It is indeed true what you’ve heard. Prince Thor shall soon come into the fullest of duties as the King of the Nine Realms on the last day of the festival of Jul— our version of Christmas, you might say. The festival on Midgard too has a similarity to ours.”

“Interesting,” Harry mumbled. “What’s more interesting, though, is the sudden declaration of Thor as the next king. Most kings of Asgard haven’t ascended to the throne until the death of the previous king or their old age. And a Sky Father like Odin should live up for a great deal more than he currently is.”

“And he undoubtedly would.” Heimdall agreed. “The Allfather merely nears the time of his sleep. The time when he would need to replenish his energies for the good of Asgard. He wishes for his sons to take command, and then, continue it under his watchful eye.”

“So he can train them and groom them to take over properly. Wise.”

Heimdall gave an uneasy look at the stars.

“You do not agree,” Harry noted. “You don’t think it is a good decision for Thor to be king?”

“Prince Thor would be a great king in time. Perhaps the greatest of them all.” Heimdall’s amber eyes glowed like the embers of a campfire. “He has a kind heart. But he’s young. Younger than most of his predecessors when they took the throne. He is not yet wise in ways the Allfather is. He might be a great warrior and a great leader. Yet, being a great king requires more than that. He has a lot to learn.”

“Which he probably will, with experience,” Harry shrugged. “And if Odin’s still there, he could, you know, give him tips and guide his hand. Better that than getting it all of a sudden like his father and grandfather did.”

“You know our stories well,” Heimdall smiled. “Perhaps it’d be good for the prince as you suggest. We can only hope and trust that the Allfather knows best.”

“It irks you though. I know that feeling,” Harry grumbled. 

“Your teacher and my king, both got to where they are through great hardships and great battles.” Heimdall turned. “I’ve watched the Sorcerer Supreme from time to time. Her troubles, her trials, and her triumphs. She wouldn’t be what she is if she hadn’t. Neither would the Allfather, had he not gone through his. Sometimes, the best course of action is to trust.”

“That’s also true, I suppose,” Harry said. “Well, what else is new? How are the Nine Realms?”

“They fare well, but for how long, I know not.”

Harry turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Worry not. It is nothing you should concern yourself about, Harry Potter. Only take them as signs.”

“Signs?”

“Of change,” Heimdall replied. “Where there’s change, strife always follows. And with strife, comes trouble. Your Sorcerer Supreme senses it. The Allfather senses it. And slowly, many others would too. The nine realms are on a knife’s edge. Thor’s coronation might just tip the balance, I’m afraid.”

“Been hearing that for a while now, mate.” Harry sighed. “Speaking of trouble, I need to ask you something.”

The god gestured for him to continue, the amber eyes brimming with curiosity and trepidation.

“I’ve been looking for a very… dangerous book for a while now. It needs to be contained, and if possible, destroyed. Could you help me find it?”

“I cannot make any promises. But I will look for it whenever I can,” Heimdall said, “Knowledge can be a great tool as it can be a great curse. What book do you seek?”

“The Darkhold.”

Harry felt the room darken as Heimdall froze, his eyes glowing. His fingers curled around the hilt of the sword and Harry tensed. 

“So, you do know what it is. The Ancient One thinks it might stir up trouble sometime in the future. And she wants it contained, and in addition, I want to find a way to destroy it. Let the damn thing be done for good.” 

“Norns help us all,” Heimdall murmured. “I would have to tell this to the Allfather.”

“Please do. If he can locate it, I will roll out a bloody red-carpet for him to come and take it away,” Harry said. “No one wants the Elder God of Chaos running around again.”

“I’ll look for it. I might call upon you to talk to the Allfather— or in time, the new Allfather, and explain the situation to him.”

“I’ll be there,” Harry promised. “Whenever you need me.”

“And both of us might be grateful for it with the turning tide.”

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6th February 2008

Triskelion, Washington DC

Faint sunlight fell through the window, across the notebook in his hand. Two tomes floated in front of him, his pen scratching over the pages in a tidy scrawl.

“What are you doing there?” Sharon’s voice rang and he looked up to see her leaning on Coulson’s desk, her blue eyes watching him carefully. “You look like you’re studying for a test.”

“Not a test, but a pet project that I’m undertaking.” The books snapped shut and disappeared with a wave of Harry’s hand. “I am learning the ‘how to’ right now, if I’m being honest. Research and everything.”

“What’s the project?” 

“I’m going to make something that allows me to fly. I just need to figure out what and how and… probably a dozen different things along the way.”

“Just find some evil witch and steal her broom.” Sharon gave a wide grin. “They always have one to fly around.”

A sharp pain twisted beneath his ribs, the faces of his Quidditch teammates flashing in front of his faces.

“I am thinking of making something more… versatile than a broom.” Harry shifted. “A broom would work but it would be limited.”

“You could make something cool,” Sharon suggested, swishing her hand through the air. “Like a sword. Or a spear if you’re going for something longer. You can use it to fly and stab monsters. Dual functionality.”

A smile quivered upon Harry’s lips. “I was thinking of something less noticeable than a medieval weapon. Like rings, gauntlets, bracelets, or the like.”

“Jewelry.” She wrinkled her nose. “But also tactical, I guess. If you get disarmed you still have a way to escape or at least put distance between yourself and the enemy. Smart. Though, jewelry? You already wear a necklace. Though, it does give you a more… wizard-y vibe.”

“That necklace is a rather powerful magical relic.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Also, jewelry is easier to wear and handle in public than a sword or a spear. Not to mention, inconspicuous at times, all things considered.”

“That’s true. Like, we also have our special equipment and stuff that we can carry around without arousing suspicion. Hell, look at all of this.”

Sharon waved her hand at Coulson’s collection by the wall.

“Coulson does have quite a collection of old spy equipment,” Harry snorted. “But this would sell for thousands.” 

“More, actually,” Sharon corrected. “Some of this is vintage, special equipment that some collectors would kill for. I remember once an old agent of ours sold an old-time spy watch— SHIELD’s first edition a couple of years ago. It was like the ones in Bond movies with a thread to strangle someone. And a couple of other things, of course. It sold for over half-million fucking euros.”

“That’s insane. And that’ll be even more when converted to dollars, I suppose.”

“Well, at that time, the price was almost equal, and with the conversion fee, he probably made the same amount in dollars.” Sharon shrugged. “But it is still like a big number for a watch.”

“So, technically, Coulson’s rich.” Harry grinned. “Speaking of Coulson, where’s he at?”

“He’s on Tony Stark’s case right now,” Sharon said. “Or well, more appropriately, keeping an eye on him after his stint in Afghanistan.”

“He’s still on that? I saw him on TV at Stark’s press conference two months back.” Harry frowned. “Is Stark a suspect or something?”

“No, but he may be involved in something bigger. Something we might have an interest in.”

“And that is?”

“Classified.” Sharon grimaced. “It’s like international security stuff. But we need to have Stark talk about his time in captivity and his escape. With the stuff happening in central Asia, it may be vitally important to get what he knows. It may help us piece things together.”

“What do you even think he would know?” Harry prodded. “Where those terrorists are hiding?”

“Not even the best of SHIELD’s teams will be brave enough to go to the terrorists’ lair, Harry. If anything, it will be a drone strike or the armed forces will go in. Probably the Marines or the SEALS.”

“They can’t be that bad.”

Sharon shook her head, her blonde curls brushing over her shoulders. “If they weren’t, we would’ve taken them out a long time ago. They have the strength in hundreds in a single place. SHIELD’s biggest strike team consists of like sixty people. And we barely ever call upon them at once. We might be an elite organization, but we don’t do stuff like that. We leave them to the armed forces.”

“Right. Bad, dangerous terrorists,” Harry said. 

Sharon gave him a fleeting smile. “How’s the Asset defense course going for you?”

“I got a silver certification in pistol shooting, whatever that means.”

“It means that you are pretty decent at shooting and will probably score a hit on the target.” Sharon beamed. “Congratulations.”

“What certificate do you have?” 

“A Gold two. It means all my shots hit the bullseye or very near.”

“There’s something above it?”

“Gold Three and Platinum. Platinum is almost impossible. You’ve to shoot at it and all the bullets should go through the same hole.”

“That’s insane. Who even has it?”

“A few agents,” Sharon replied evasively. 

“Classified, I am guessing?”

Sharon nodded uneasily.

“Anyhow—”

Something rang on the computer and Sharon twisted, turning the screen toward her, and picking up the phone. “This is Agent Thirteen. Aerial activity spotted over the Pacific, heading toward the US. Bogey at Mach one. Get word to the Air Force. Bogey is hazy on radar, and I cannot get a clear sat-view.” She turned around. “Harry, do me a favor, go back home. Now.”

“Good luck,” Harry opened a portal and stepped through. “See you next time.”

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AND… DONE! Hope you all liked the chapter!

So, yes. Harry now has a new side project. A project to create something great. Where will it lead him and what shall he do? Read and find out.

Of course, there was Heimdall and the darkness of the darkhold lingering in the background. 

The next chapters for the fic will be published in a couple of weeks for Galactic Voyagers and GotSIS enthusiasts, bringing the tally to 4 Early chapters. The same goes for the other stories too. I will make a normal update a double update or around, so the promises are fulfilled by end of August.

A huge thanks to Mughil and Nanu for betaing the chapter!

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Stay Happy! Stay Safe! Keep Smiling! Keep Reading!

HPfanfictioner66