Author's Note: there is some hint of emotional abuse, so be warned!

Also, there's a reference to Sherlock, so disclaimer on that! See if you can spot it if you're familiar with the show :)

"Sometimes people don't want to hear the truth because they don't want their illusions destroyed."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

Chapter Four – Lessons Learned

The broom was surprisingly light in his grip and the handle was smoother than it looked. Harry had expected the usual rough wooden texture and was caught by surprise when his fingers effortlessly glided over the silk-like texture of the handle.

Pausing once more to make sure his brother and father were both still busy arguing with Emmaline about Everett's slow progress, Harry took the broom down from where it hung in the shack.

Months had passed since he'd first summoned Mother Magic and agreed to be taught by her, and since then, he'd been taught more wandless magic, the powerful stuff, not just the "tricks" he did, as Magic put it. He was also given a full comprehensive lecture on the real history of magic and the world, and it had been relatively close to the one he'd read.

All in all, his head was crammed full of spells, obscure rituals, historical events, and magical theory, but to Harry's disappointment and frustration, they hadn't even touched on what he really wanted to learn: his special magic-leeching power. In fact, whenever Harry had brought it up, Magic had forcefully shut the topic down, droning on about the dangers of learning too fast.

Which was why he was here, sneaking into the broom shed. After exhausting all the enchanted mirrors, toys, books, and literally any disposable object that his father or brother wouldn't notice missing, he was forced to resort to brooms.

Preparing to go through the all-too familiar sensation of falling into his core and turning on his mage sight, Harry closed his eyes. Opening them, the dreary brown of the shed was replaced with bright tendrils of colors woven together inside all the brooms. Focusing on the one he had in his hand – he'd chosen one of the older and shabbier-looking brooms – Harry memorized all the places where magic seemed to be concentrated the most.

Just as he was going to send forward his own magic, he was interrupted by a voice which almost made him drop the broom.

"Playing with magic behind my back, I see."

Whirling around, Harry saw the familiar figure of Mother Magic floating inches above the ground in front of him.

After periodically performing blood sacrifices every once in a while, Magic had gotten strong enough to remain awake without him calling her every single time. Harry wasn't sure what she did all the time now that she was awake, but it seemed part of it was to spy on him, apparently.

Wincing at having been caught red-handed, Harry scrambled to explain. "Er…not behind your back, per se, because you never told me not to…"

Magic replied with silence, probably having deemed his lame excuse not worth responding to.

Harry hurriedly added on, "And besides, isn't it better that I try to find out more about this so I can try to control it? Knowledge is power, isn't that what you're always teaching me? And c'mon, you keep refusing to teach me, but it's such an important part of my life. I have to know."

For a moment, Magic's eyes flashed black at him before returning to their normal silver colors. Shocked at the display, Harry took a step back. But she carried on serenely, making Harry think it was all a trick of the light.

"Harry, dear, your power is unprecedented. There's a reason I'm teaching you about magical theory. You must understand completely how magic works and how a living being may interact with natural magic before you even attempt to unravel your power."

"But why," Harry really hoped he didn't sound like he was whining like his brother always did. "I already know how to detect the innate magic in two of the elements, and you've taught me everything about how magical cores work and how I can use mine. Why can't I learn about this too?"

"Because Harry, it's dangerous." Magic's tone was unfailingly calm, which only made Harry more frustrated.

"How can it be dangerous? I've already used it, on that portrait, remember? And according to my father, I used it before I was even born. How is it dangerous when it's something I've already used? All I'm trying to learn is how to control it so that next time I don't kill anyone," Harry choked out the last words, feeling guilt clamp up his throat once more.

No moments of weakness of his ever seemed to escape the ethereal being, so of course she immediately zeroed in on the guilt heavy in his voice.

"Do not blame yourself for something that occurred before you arrived in this world, Harry. It is not your duty to avenge your mother's death by punishing yourself. I see no reason why you insist on pushing that burden unto yourself."

Harry looked at the ground. "Because–because it is my fault. My mother would still be alive if I wasn't born. And I owe it to her, my father, and everyone to defeat it."

The silver eyes narrowed at him. "Is that what you want to do? Defeat this power of yours? Eradicate it?"

Harry faltered. "Well, I don't know. I just want to control it, you know? And if I can't control, then yes, I'd want to get rid of it." He shook his head when he saw the disappointed tilt of her head. "You don't understand, I can't keep going like this, never knowing if my power will suddenly turn on and kill someone close to me. I can't live like that."

A loud snort rang through his mind. "That is your flaw, my son. That you allow the opinions and livelihoods of others affect your actions will become your one major weakness. Why do you allow people into your heart when all they have done is hurt you? You wish to destroy this power to please your father."

Harry startled in protest. "No, I never said–"

"But you meant it. You would never give voice to it, but you and I both know that is the real motive behind your actions," Magic stated as she floated closer.

Harry winced and shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to protest her words more, but part of him felt uneasy, knowing that her words held a little truth.

"It's no use lying to me or to yourself. Look at how emotion has defeated you. James Potter does not care for you. He neglects you; he imprisons you in the abandoned wing of the house; he demeans you every chance he gets; he manipulates you into thinking your magic is bad; he forces you to act like you're some mindless imbecile; he blatantly favors your brother in front of you; he spreads lies to all his friends about how you're a freak; he drives everything good away from you."

Harry bowed his head further as the voice rose in volume.

"And yet, you would willingly destroy a part of yourself for his sake."

"I know," Harry rasped. "I know, it's stupid. I'm stupid. But he's my father. I just want him to like me."

"That's not possible," came the sharp response, causing a twinge in his chest that he stubbornly suppressed.

"I know!" he cried. "But that doesn't stop me from hoping. And–and he's a good dad, to Everett. And if he can be a good dad to Everett, then doesn't that mean he can be a good dad to me? And…and…I don't know, I know it doesn't make logical sense, but–"

"You're right. It makes no sense. The only reason why you insist on adhering to your father's wishes is because some part of you still cares about him."

Harry stayed silent.

"Don't you see, Harry? Do you see now, how emotions ruin you? Your life would be so much easier if you stopped caring for your father, wouldn't it? The only reason why you behave so irrationally, why you hold onto a hope that's already dead, is because you care."

He shuffled his feet, unable to deny those words. "I know. I wish I didn't, but I can't help it."

"Yes, Harry, you can help it," the voice took a sterner turn. "You understand now that caring about others, letting people inside your heart, all it does is weaken and destroy you. Why else would you want to cast away such power if not for the sentiment twisting your mind and eating away at your soul? You understand that don't you?"

Hesitantly, Harry nodded. What Magic said made sense. He was constantly tortured by the desire to have his father's approval, and because of that, the rejection always hurt twice as bad.

But he didn't see the advantage of not caring anymore. Wouldn't it still hurt, having someone insult you, even if you didn't care about them? And Harry wasn't hurting anyone except himself, right? And it wasn't like he was destroying his life.

Besides, he cared about other people and other things that didn't hurt him. He cared about Pippy, his loyal house elf, and Pippy cared about him too, he knew. And that made him happy. Occasionally, his brother would be kind to him, and the glow those moments brought to his chest was really nice.

Was it worth the pain though? He thought it was, yes, but looking at Magic, it didn't seem like the right answer. Better to just give her what she wants unless she starts yelling those things about his father, again.

"Yes, I understand."

She leaned back, satisfied. "Don't let people in, Harry. Remember that rule and follow it always. Caring is not an advantage."

Harry said nothing in reply.

"Now slowly spread out your magic but stay focused on those vibrations in the air."

Harry reached out with his magic. The air around him was humming with energy, with potential, just waiting for him to use.

Suddenly, he felt a zap and jerked back.

"Slowly! I said slowly!" the voice admonished.

Grimacing, Harry pushed out his magic more tentatively this time. Concentrating on the buzzing surrounding him, he willed his magic to join the vibrations. He wasn't sure what feeling he was supposed to aim for, but Magic had been vague when instructing him, so Harry took a shot in the dark and hoped for the best.

And then the buzzing stopped, and the air grew tense. Harry could taste the anticipation, as if the air was alive and waiting for something to happen.

"Good, very good," breathed the voice. "Oh, you've succeeded much quicker than I expected, Harry. Tell me, what do you feel?"

Harry licked his lips, thinking. "I feel excited…ready." His heartbeat had quickened, and he felt awake and alert. But in a good way, not the type of heart-pounding fear in the presence of danger. His mind felt clear and calm, and yet, he could feel anticipation gathering in every pore of his body.

"That's your magic telling you that you have an army at your disposal now. Congratulations, my son. You've mastered aerial energy. That humming that you felt before was the natural magic flowing through the atmosphere, but now it's all at your command. All that power, waiting for you to use as you wish. Remember how this feels."

Harry shivered. It was…powerful. He was powerful. He felt ready to burst apart at the need to do something, anything. And boy, what he imagined he would be able to do. Waves and waves of potential piled up inside him until he felt as big as the world.

He flexed his magic and felt the air respond. It moved as he moved. A smile of bliss stretched across his face at the empowering sensation of having something as omniscient and enormous as air completely his to command.

"You could do anything. Anything, Harry. You could create the strongest winds the earth has ever known, whipping up everything in its path. You could tear the world down into nothing and then build back the universe how you would imagine it. All you have to do, my dear, is master this," she whispered tantalizingly.

Suddenly, right as Magic finished her speech, Harry felt the power slip from his grasp. Instead of the control and command he'd felt before, Harry felt the complete opposite now. It was like waves and waves of magic was crashing over him, overwhelming him and threatening to pull him under.

Panicking as he felt himself being suffocated, Harry withdrew his magic, abruptly ending his connection with the power.

Unfortunately, this action did not bode well with Magic.

"What do you think you're doing? Why did you do that?" she yelled at him.

Harry flinched when he saw her. Her towering form and furious darkening eyes reminded him too much of his father to be comfortable.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered out, "it was too much. I couldn't hold it all."

She scoffed. "Too much? There is no such thing as too much power. Try again," she snapped.

"But-" Harry began to protest.

"No buts! You can and you will master this," she ordered. Her eyes, which had been steadily darkening until Harry felt he was looking into the abyss of nothingness when he met her gaze, sent a shudder through him and reminded him for the first time that she was something dangerous, something other-worldly.

"Ok, ok, I'll try," Harry hastily agreed before the threats he could faintly detect thrumming from the glowing figure could turn into something real.

Closing his eyes, he reached deep into his mind, searching for the light of his core. As soon as he felt the glow wash over him, he opened his eyes once more to be assaulted by the small moving particles of magic humming in the air.

Bracing himself for the onslaught of power he knew would come, Harry gathered his own magic and embraced the particles.

At first, everything was still, the natural magic unyielding to his own. With a growl, Harry pushed out his magic even further, attempting to make his will clear.

Come to me, he thought as he flared out his magic once more, matching the frequency of his energy to the vibrating movements of the particles in the air.

The initial union was just as breathtaking as he'd remembered, but Harry barely had time to revel in the magnificence before the tamed natural magic reared back and turned against him.

Just as before, the perfect equilibrium broke, and energy flooded into Harry's core at an overpowering rate. Whereas he had been mastering nature, nature was now mastering him.

Wave after wave the individual particles pounded into him and through him until Harry thought he was being torn apart into tiny molecules.

He felt his consciousness slipping, and as a last resort, he gathered and flared out his magic against the waves, but it was feeble in comparison to the vast power of the foreign energy.

The first thing he heard when he woke up was the cross sound of Magic's voice snapping, "again."

And so, Harry had no choice other than to follow her instructions.

Over and over again, Harry drowned and suffocated under the assault of the millions of infinitesimal particles of magic, each time ending with Harry losing his grip on the edges of his consciousness, certain that this time he wouldn't wake up.

He lost count of how many times Magic stood over him, calling for another attempt. The sun had traveled halfway over the sky when Harry, touching the familiar buzzing sensations of the natural energy, immediately withdrew his magic and threw up on the rug he was kneeling on.

"Again," Magic intoned, her voice flat and sounding bored.

"No, please," Harry rasped. The revolting taste inside his mouth was almost enough to distract him from the utter exhaustion lining every inch of his body. "I can't do this anymore."

"Yes, you can," Magic stated matter-of-factly, "Stop it with your excuses."

"Not excuses," Harry mumbled, "I–I just can't, okay? Please don't make me. Every time I try, it gets too much."

"Yes," Magic agreed, "I admit I overestimated your power. It is closer to the other mortals than I thought."

"I mean…I am a mortal," Harry felt the need to point out.

Magic snorted and gave him a smile that showed too much teeth to be genuine, but her eyes had returned to their usual silvery pools, so Harry allowed himself to relax a bit.

"Of course, Harry."

Harry felt like he was missing something important.

She sighed. "Alright, I'll allow to you stop for now, as it's clear you have limits. But nevertheless, even if you don't have the capacity to master this now, with practice, you should be able to."

"Do I really need to though?" Harry questioned. When Magic turned her affronted look toward him, he hastened to explain. "I mean, why do I need to learn how to master all this power? It's more than I could ever need."

Unfortunately, his reasons only seemed to increase Magic's ire, and her eyes slowly darkened, shade by shade.

"You never turn down the opportunity to gain power, Harry dear. How dare you," she snarled, "how dare you refuse this when most mortals would be vying for a taste of it."

"But I have my own magic, and you know, my special abilities. I don't really need more? I mean, what even is this power that you're teaching to control?"

"This power, Harry," Magic began in a low voice, "this is all of me, all I have to offer. Aerial energy – it's the magic of the air, all the magic in this world that is free to act and use. Master this power, and you will master all the magic in the world. You would be able to draw upon any magic from all corners of the earth to use as your own." She grinned and stepped back. "Do you still refuse it now?"

Harry gaped at her. That…was not what he'd been expecting. It was much much bigger than he'd thought, and it only fortified his refusal.

"I–yes! Of course, I don't need that much power. I wouldn't know what to do with it!" he protested despite the stifling press of Magic's presence around him.

"Yes, you do," she snarled. "Stop your excuses and do what I tell you to do, or else!"

"No," he shouted back, "I don't understand why you're making me do this! It's too much power!"

A growl ripped through his mind and foreign magic pressed tight against Harry's throat, applying just enough pressure to make it hard to breathe. "You can never have too much power, young lord!"

"Stop!" he cried, but the pressure only deepened.

"Never!" boomed the voice.

Tears of fear and frustration sprung to his eyes. "No! You're just as bad as my father!"

Her eyes turned dark and all of Harry's senses prickled at him, yelling at him to run from this threat. Never having witnessed Magic so angry before, he trembled but stood his ground.

As if sensing Harry's overwhelming fear, Magic pulled back her power and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her face had softened, and her voice lost some of its previous bite.

"I understand what's happening, now. Harry, my son, you're are yet young, and I forgive you for not understanding the ways of the world. What you have suffered here in the walls of this manor is only a sampling of the cruelties all mortals possess.

Though her voice had softened, her words were carried in the same "do not disobey me" tone.

"I forget to be patient sometimes, but you'll learn soon enough the importance of power. You may not believe it now, but I'll tell you again, you can never have too much power."

She bent down to stare into Harry's eyes with her molten eyes. "You rage at the wrong person, Harry. You think I push you unnecessarily, but you have not seen what I have seen; you do not know what I know of the world. I only want what is best for you, my dear."

Her fingers trailed over Harry's arm, making him shiver at the power thrumming from the being.

"Look at me Harry," she crooned. "Remember who is on your side. Who tossed you aside the moment you were born? And who came and picked up the pieces and helped you shape them into something stronger?"

Filled with a rising sense of guilt at growing understanding of what he'd yelled a moment ago in a fit of anger, Harry looked away and bowed his head.

"I'm sorry, Magic," he whispered. "I didn't mean it."

He hadn't. Yelling back like that, stubbornly refusing to listen, that wasn't like him. No matter how much Harry had disliked doing something in the past, he'd never shouted like that.

The more he thought about his actions, the more he felt like he was going to throw up. Magic was the only person who'd ever cared about him, and he had almost chased her away with his cruel words. He'd acted just like his father and Everett, throwing around insults and hateful words at someone who didn't deserve it.

Harry shook his head desperately. He wouldn't ruin this by acting like his family. "Please, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

"Oh, my child," Magic sighed. "Of course I forgive you."

Harry waited a beat for the scolding to come, for Magic to rail at him and reject him. After hearing only silence, he raised his head with widened eyes. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

"Look at you," she sighed again, twisting her mouth sadly, "you don't even believe me when I say that."

Horrified that his doubt had shown on his face, Harry squeezed his eyes shut, hating the confusion and unease clouding his mind.

"Stop it." Magic rebuked. After a moment, Harry felt a warm weight touch his chin. He opened his eyes to see Magic cradling his face with her luminescent hands.

"Stop blaming yourself for something that is not your fault," she continued. "Your father had left untold damage on you in his relentless verbal and emotional assaults on you. You've never known love, and you are broken because of it."

Harry tried to avert his eyes, but the hand turned his gaze back to Magic. "You are broken," she repeated, "but it is not your fault. The blame rests solely on the people who cast you aside and beat you down as they sat in their high chairs. Do you understand?"

Harry gave a nod, but he still felt small as he spoke, "I just–I don't want to feel this way anymore. And I don't want to be like them either."

Magic's smile did not match the ferocious look in her eyes. "Listen to me now, Harry. This is important. Turn that shame you feel at yourself into anger at them. That is how you will fix yourself. When your father tries to belittle you once more, it's alright to feel hurt. You're human now, after all. But don't let him beat what's here"– she tapped his chest – "don't let him break your spirit."

Drawing in a small breath, Harry drank in her words.

"And when he walks away, feeling good about how he just bullied an innocent child, don't allow pity and shame to crowd your heart. You must not believe a single thing he tells you. I don't expect you to feel indifferent, of course, but you must take all that emotion and channel it into your hatred of him. Hate him, Harry. Rage against him, roar your anger, embrace the lustful fury until it pumps through your veins and drives out all your cracks."

She brought her hands back to his face and stared at him intently for a full minute. "Only then will you begin to mend."

Harry, afraid that if he opened his mouth the lump in his throat would turn into a sob, remained silent. He wanted to be the person that Magic had described, wanted desperately to have the strength to turn away.

There had to be something wrong with him, though. Why else did he always cave so easily to the hurt? The truth was, no matter how much the lessons were drilled into his mind, that he shouldn't care, shouldn't let emotions in, Harry never fully accepted them.

He hated the look Magic gave him whenever he shared his fears. To her, it was baffling that he would willingly accept something that would only hurt him.

Upon seeing her silent judgement and disdain again, Harry felt the familiar feeling of frustration building inside of him.

He knew she was right. Life would be easier if he stopped caring and. He wanted to simply hate his father. But he couldn't, and he didn't know why.

Perhaps he was meant to stay broken.

Author's Note:

Hope this chapter gave more insight into Harry as a character! I also wanted to show a little more of Magic and her developing mentor-student/mother-son relationship with Harry. Anyways, thoughts and critiques on how those two were portrayed? Will Harry learn to take these lessons to heart? Is he going to grow dark and bitter and full of hate?

Next chapter will take us to Diagon Alley where Harry meets some people. Will he find friends? Allies? Enemies? Or all of the above?

I don't know, but review to drop your opinions and hit follow to find out more!

-Jadeite