Chapter 69.3- Doom Days

“Most likely.” He said.

“Then that works for me.” I said, turning back and walking towards the room I’d been imprisoned in.

“Last I checked, you blew a hole in his chest, Harry Potter” I heard his call after me.

“I wonder what they teach at Durmstrang if you think that is an unfixable problem” I tossed back, smile on my face.

“They must put delusions in the broccoli juice in Hogwarts”

“The what?”

“Broccoli juice? You know the drink that comes with every meal back in school. You didn’t have those?”

“Oh we did, just that we had pumpkin juice instead.”

“Ughhh. That sounds terrible”

“Terrible? Nothing sounds as bad as the words broccoli and juice in the same sentence” I shot back before I stepped back through the hole I’d blown into the wall. There was my quarry, still dead as I’d left him.

“I want to see this.” He said, stepping past me to get a good look at the target.

I opened a cut on my palm, and drew my blood out into the air, levitating it with ease. And then I used said blood to begin to draw runes. Once I completed a rune, it flew through the air before burning itself into the dead man’s skin.

“You’e going to make an inferi? How in Morgana’s name do you even know how to do that? They didn’t teach it in Durmstrang even” I smirked in reply. I wasn’t going to tell him that if anyone at Hogwarts knew I could do this, then I’d be the recipient of more than a few questions.

As for how I had learned it, that was a question for Tom Riddle more than it was for anyone else. Unlimited access to the restricted section from his fourth year meant he knew things about the dark arts that no student had any business knowing. And contrary to what most people would have thought, the Hogwarts restricted section had actually been the Wild West back then. It was Hogwarts policy never to remove books or destroy them, so whenever a magical art was made illegal, all books were moved to the restricted section and forgotten about. At least that was how things had been up to Riddle’s time.

The restricted section he had made his second home in his fifth year and the one Harry had wandered into in his first year where world’s different from each other. Probably Dumbledore’s meddling.

“Hogwarts isn’t Durmstrang” I said as I drew the last of the runes and began to murmur in Gaelic. If I was being technical, this wasn’t an inferior ritual. Those required way more preparation, and wouldn’t work for this purposes either way. What I was creating was a false draugr. Less powerful than an a true one, and also easier to create— the main requirement being that I had the power to animate the body and the remnants of the soul’s information, along with the body not having been dead for more than a couple of hours. The more powerful the host, the less time one had between death and all the soul’s information leaving.