Harry potter The Boy Who Remembers

Immediately, he was accosted by Blaise, Daphne, and Tracy. They immediately sat next to him. Daphne was the first to break her silence, "Are you alright, Harry?"

The boy nodded, "Yeah, why is that?"

"You're kidding right, mate?" Blaise interjected, "You sort of screamed in pain during the ritual yesterday and just passed out. What happened, Harry?"

Harry simply shrugged, "I'm not really sure. I remember the ritual, then feeling like I was burning from the inside, and finally waking up in my bed. I was sore and really didn't know what happened, so I decided to take a walk. Was the ritual supposed to be that painful?"

Blaise gave him a pondering condition, "I guess there was some stinging and itching, but I wouldn't say it felt like I was burning from the inside."

Daphne interjected, "Really? It didn't hurt at all for me. It actually felt good, a little warm even."

They all turned to Tracy who rolled her eyes, "Don't look at me, I didn't activate any crest of anything," at their apological looks she continued, "Come on, we all know that I wasn't getting a crest. My family isn't old enough to have one. I'm not disappointed and considering how painful Harry's activation was, I'm grateful that I didn't have to go through that."

"Anyone with a functioning brain wouldn't want to go through what Harry did," Blaise responded with a snort. He then turned to Harry, "Seriously, did you at least get your crest?"

The young Potter nodded, and Blaise grinned enthusiastically, "Well, go on, show us."

"I don't think that it's a good idea, Blaise. Maybe in the dormitory," Harry protested.

"Come on I'll even show you mine," his friend insisted.

Blaise then pulled up his right sleeve and Harry saw his Magical Crest. It was a lot smaller than Harry's but looked just as lifelike. Honestly, it was a work of art. I was an Eagle's head, that looked fierce and proud, with piercing eyes that seemed to look right through him. The beak was sharp and curved, with tiny ridges along the edges. The feathers were detailed and intricate, with shades of black and white that blended together perfectly. Honestly, it looked kingly.

The smug young wizard relished in their look of awe, "Yeah, I know it's cool. Mother told me that my family is as old as Rome itself and that our crest symbolizes that connection."

Daphne though didn't want to be outclassed and pulled up her own sleeve, revealing her own crest, which happened to be a flower, "I still think mine is better."

It looked beautiful, and surprisingly had faint colours unlike Harry's and Blaise's. The flower was small with white delicate petals, with a hint of green at its base. Harry didn't recognize what type of flower it was, but Daphne who was grinning smugly at them continued, "It's called a Lily of the Valley. It's a flower that can even survive in winter that symbolizes purity and luck. I sent a letter to my father about it. Apparently, every Greengrass gets a unique flower when activating them. It's part of our Druid ancestry, I think."

Ah, Druids, the original magic users in the British Isles before the Romans invaded. Their practices tended to be more in line with connecting with nature and manipulating it. Of course, they could be extremely dangerous, especially with the rumours of sacrificial rituals going around. But what made them unique was the fact that they were the only people to ever be able to channel the direct power of a ley line directly, creating massive acts of magic, and stopping most invaders. Unfortunately, the art of druidism was somewhat passive until they master the basics which took decades. Compare it to the endless Roman legions that use wands and standardized spells, they were quickly defeated.

However, even now, there were a few houses with druid ancestry, like the Greengrasses and the Longbottoms. They tended to have a green touch in Herbology, and they were celebrated by the community because they were often charged with the maintenance and sale of magical plants, especially the ones with ingredients. They had special rituals and practices that guaranteed the health of their plants and their quality when brewing potions. That, of course, made House Greengrass one of the wealthiest houses in the British Isles, and virtually untouchable. Potions were critical in a magical society. Jeopardizing their main providers of quality ingredients would either make them leave for another country or just only sell to their enemies. Yeah, politically and magically, house Greengrass wasn't that big of a deal, but it was the sleeping lion that no one had any intention of poking.

While he was lost in his own head, Harry's friends looked at him expectantly until Tracy spoke up, "Well go on, then, show us."

The young Slytherin held his head in embarrassment, "It's a bit more complicated. My crest is a bit bigger than yours. Is that normal?"

Daphne looked pensive, "I honestly don't know. I think it depends on the crest's creator. People often decide for it to be small and on their arms because it's easy to show and would provide proof of their ritual."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Tracy exclaimed, "fine, I'll do it myself."

Before he could react, Tracy pulled up his sleeve and saw the tattoo that seemed to go up his arm. "What is that?" Blaise asked.

Harry sighed in exasperation, "I told you I would show you in the common room. To answer your question, that's the wing of my crest. It's sort of centred on my chest not my arm like yours, and it's honestly massive."

"What is it," Daphne questioned.

"A Raven," he replied.

.....

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