Le Début du Voyage

As Harry stood there, frozen in determination, Sebastian's smile seemed to grow wider, and the images continued to flash before his eyes. He saw himself facing Voldemort, saw the Dark Lord's followers, the Death Eaters, saw the battles that lay ahead. The visions were vivid, and Harry felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was ready to face whatever lay ahead. Sebastian began to explain the intricacies of controlling his Horcrux, the powers that lay within him, and the techniques required to harness them. Harry listened intently, his mind absorbing every word. The more he learned, the more he realized the enormity of the task before him. Controlling his Horcrux was not just a matter of mastering magic; it was about understanding the very fabric of his being. As the days passed, Harry trained tirelessly under Sebastian's guidance. He practiced spells, learned new techniques, and honed his skills. Sebastian was a demanding teacher, pushing Harry to his limits, but Harry was determined to succeed. He knew that his fate, and that of the wizarding world, depended on it. However, despite his progress, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss. Sebastian's words, though laced with conviction, seemed to hide a deeper truth. The more Harry learned, the more he felt that Sebastian was not telling him everything. The images that flashed before his eyes still lingered, and Harry began to notice that they were not just random visions. They were connected, tied to a thread that Harry couldn't quite grasp. One night, as he sat in his room, pouring over the notes Sebastian had given him, Harry stumbled upon a cryptic message. It was a single sentence, scribbled in the margin of a page: "The key to controlling your Horcrux lies not within yourself, but within the shadows that follow you." Harry's mind reeled as he tried to decipher the meaning behind the words. Who or what were these shadows, and how were they connected to his Horcrux? As he pondered the message, a faint scratching sound came from outside his window. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he rose from his chair, approaching the window cautiously. He pushed aside the curtains, and a figure slipped into the room, silent as a ghost. "Who are you?" Harry asked, his wand at the ready. The figure stepped forward, revealing a face that Harry recognized, but couldn't quite place. The stranger's eyes locked onto Harry's, and he whispered a single word: "Run."