A Helping Hand

Chapter 11

Aragog rumbled his way through the forest, annoyed, crushing the undergrowth beneath his clacking feet, smaller creatures fleeing from his wake. When the Lord of the Spiders was angry, it was not a good idea to be near him. The reason for Aragog's anger was simple: Harry Potter. Aragog had not forgotten, how a mere two years ago several of his swarm had been injured because of that boy and that car. He also blamed the boy for the infestation of Dementors one year prior, those foul beasts affected all magical creatures and were this despised, not just by humans.

In truth, Aragog didn't really know why he had agreed to lend his assistance to the boy, yes he was somewhat indebted to him but that didn't mean he had to acknowledge it. He couldn't put it into words, like with the centaurs he had later confirmed, in the puzzled words of Magorian, he'd just "had a feeling". There was something about the boy that just drew people towards him but Aragog would be damned if he knew what it was. Putting those thoughts to one side, he sighed. In his troubled musing, he failed to notice the that he had reached the edge of the clearing, he failed to notice the creatures gently flitting in and out of the trees, failed to notice the magic thrumming in the air.

But when he broke through the treeline and caught sight of the boy on the log he noticed all of it.

Aragog pulled up short, legs clacking, sniffing the air trying to make sense of what his senses were telling him. He did this again and again, unable to comprehend the Blessing on the Boy. In the decades in which he had inhabited Hogwarts he'd never seen anything more than a tentacle lazily breaking through the surface of the water. Any and all resentments and doubts he felt towards the Boy were instantly banished from his mind. Now more than a little wary of the boy, he tentatively approached the tree stump, the rare feeling of uncertainty filling the great spider.

Harry looked up in curiosity as he observed the strange behaviour of Aragog. Gently setting the Bowtruckle down, he approached the Acromantula, hand tightly gripping his wand, just in case.

"Er, Aragog? Mister Aragog? No that doesn't sound right," he muttered that last part under his breath. " Aragog? Is everything alright?"

The spider started, apparently still lost in his thoughts, and whilst he did acknowledge Harry's question, he continued to think for another few moments.

"Alright? Yes child, I am perfectly fine. I am simply stupefied, and I confess somewhat awestruck by the Ancient Blessing. In all my years here I have never been honoured by her presence. In regards to your training it changes nothing. Instead of a power boost, or some new ability, the Blessing in essence opens your eyes to nature's magic around you. It will drive you when you want to give up, pull you up when you get knocked down as you realise what you're fighting for. To most magical creatures it will mark you as a friend and trustee, but there will be some who choose to oppose you. This Blessing confirms that training you was the right decision made by the centaurs and I, training that I have been neglecting. That ends now. Tell me child, what do you know of the art of Umbrakinesis."

Harry, somehow taking this all in without batting an eyelid - though he had now had much practice in processing mind-blowing information - replied uncertainly.

"Is that something to do with controlling shadows?"

A brief smile flitted across the spider's face as he nodded in affirmation. Suddenly, he reared up like a horse, leaving only two legs on the ground. Raising his other six legs, he drew the shadows from the edge of the clearing to him - Harry did not know how. The darkness swirled and danced around his limbs, floating like feathers in a breeze but oh so much deadlier. Without warning, Aragog sent a bolt of darkness towards the stump where  Harry had been sitting. It cut through it like a knife through butter. Then, Aragog allowed the shadows to expand and engulf him, disappearing before appearing right behind Harry.

"Indeed child, it is that. Foolish wizards consider it to be Dark Magic and it is rarely spoken of and even more rarely studied. But we know what it is, it calls to us." Aragog broke off, looking towards the pools of shadow at the edge of the clearing. Unconsciously, a single leg stretched towards the darkness, before the spider turned his attention back to the boy. Looking directly at Harry, he continued.

"It is the Darkness created by the Light, and get it serves neither of them, something I believe is quite fitting for you. There is no magic spell, no funny incantation to control it. To harness it, one must be immersed in the light, in the dark, in the grey. Call to the shadows, and they will answer." The spider extended a pincer towards the shadows, gesturing for Harry to step into the pool.

Somewhat apprehensively, Harry surrounded himself with the shadows, unsure of what to do. Going off instinct alone with Aragog silently watching on, he sat down in a lotus position, as if he was to enter a meditative trance. Using his admittedly rudimentary Occlumency skills, he emptied his mind, allowing it to slowly fill with shadows. His skin grew darker and darker until he could barely be distinguished from the surrounding shadows.

And then, he slipped into the darkness.

The first thing Harry noticed was the cold. It but at him, tearing at his clothes and at his skin, forming frost in his eyelashes and lips. His shoulders shivered and his teeth chattered, arms coming up in a futile attempt to try and warm him. It sapped strength, invading his mind, crooning at him to give up, to fall into the endless oblivion. But he persisted. He raged at it, he would not be hurt again! Fuelled by his anger, at himself, at the world, he broke through the barrier and overcame the cold.

The second thing Harry noticed was the Darkness. He opened his eyes, straining to pick out any detail but he could not. Involuntarily, he began to shake. Years of living with Dursleys, if being locked in the pitch black cupboard had instilled in him a fear of Dark. He reached up, clawing at his eyes as if he was trying to rip them open, just to let some semblance of light in. But again, he fought to rationalise himself, to regain control over him and his emotions. And with that Harry overcame his fear, overcame the darkness.

But when he overcame the darkness he was met with light. Blinding harsh light, pinning him to the ground, burning him. In his agony, he saw faces, Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes, his gaze stabbing him. He saw Hermione's disapproval, Ron's hatred. These things combined and pushed him back, like a sustained laser blast you see in films. But in those films the hero digs deep to fight through the pain and the blast. Harry couldn't do that. This wasn't something you could overpower, something you could push down and lock away. Harry had to accept it, because until then he'd been holding on to a hope that everything could go back to normal, that it wasn't real. But it was. And finally, finally Harry came to terms with it, and it made him stronger. And with this acceptance, Harry overcame the light.

Past all three barriers, the shadows seemed to sigh, before flying towards Harry. He braced himself for the inevitable impact, but it never came (just like Narcissa Malfoy). Instead, the shadows gently flew into his body, through his chest. Harry drew in great, shuddering breath as he absorbed the shadows. He turned his hands over, studying them but could see no discernible difference. He was about to try and test his new powers, but he was ripped violently from the shadow realm.

Gasping and spluttering, Harry fell out of the darkness.

A/N: If you want to know why I messed up on the upload schedule, explanation is on my profile. Wouldn't mind if you started following me while you're over there, leave a review and all that, until next time!