And now at twenty-three, with society finally functioning again, Harry was free to work on some of his own problems.

"Starting", he thought, while approaching his nightstand; he picked up a ring and at looked at it in the morning sun, before putting it on, a cloak that he threw over his shoulders with years of practice and, just as he was about to head to the door, a wand appeared in his hand, which he gripped firmly,

"… with the hallows."

Since the end of the battle, Harry realized something was… off. It was an uncomfortable itch, something that he couldn't just scratch and get it over with. At first he thought that it maybe was all of the energy and the skittishness that the years have accumulated, in preparation for a confrontation with Voldemort. So, he figured that he could just work it off, until it, whatever it was, disappeared. What he didn't count on was the almost drug-like state that he had, inevitably, induced himself in. The idea did work, but perhaps a bit too well. With the goal clear in mind, that uncomfortable buzz became bearable, and sometimes it stopped altogether. But… by then Hermione had noticed the way he behaved himself and when he didn't even come to the dinners that the Weasley matriarch invited him to, in favour of working and hauling himself in Grimmauld Place, she decided to take actions.

The sudden involvement in the political and social life of the Wizarding World did got him out of his vegetable-like state, as his friends have once oh-so-nice described it as, either by necessity or choice. He had to give speeches, make alliances, offer position to those who trusted as competent people. The balls, cultural festivities, political brunches and dinner parties- all demanded his attention and presence. The position of Minister asked for nothing, but his best, and more, only if he really wanted to make an impact, of course. During those years he did something completely out of his characteristic behavior and began to study. The law, the rules of conduct, different branches of Magic, the Olde Ways became his life. He grew into the role that he had, this time around, chosen for himself.

But still, something was missing… and the buzzing didn't stop.

The thought that this may have something to do with his magic, gave him a pause. He had learned that all magic is sentient, in some way or form, a fact which explains accidental magic that happens around young children in danger. And he had been ignoring his, since the Battle of Hogwarts and the following few weeks that consisted of the reconstruction of the outer building, he had never once spared a thought about the long-lasting-effects of the horcrux and the hallows .

But that still left him at an impass. Because, what the fuck was going on?

People say that the first step to solving a problem is being aware of it.

Harry would like to tell those people that they know shit, because that certainly wasn't true in his case.

As soon as the thought that something happened with his magic crossed his head, the buzzing has grown in volume, the itch getting more irritating than ever and he still wasn't any closer in figuring it out.

Thankfully, Hermione came to his rescue. Again.

They were both workinng in his bureau, when Hermione finally dropped the one million dollars question.

"Hey, Harry?" she softly asked, while she examined the documents he had grasped in his hands, "Which ring is that one?"

"Which one, Hermione?" he inquired distractedly.

"The one on your ring finger? I know you have," she threw him a slight glare, for not giving her his whole attention, before pointedly looking at his hand,"the Potter and Black rings, courtsey of your parents and Sirius, but what about that one?"

"Hmm?" Harry hummed, looking over his papers, before sparing a glance to his left hand. Once he caught sight of the ring that Hermione was referring to, his eyes widened imperceptibly and he froze. Because he clearly remembered not putting that ring there.

He certainly recognized it, how couldn't he? But the last time he held it, he was prepared to drop it in The Forbidden Forest and never look back.

"That's... the Peverell Ring," he whispered.

"Oh?" Hermione adopted a light voice, " I didn't know that you took up that lordship as well."

"Indeed," he intoned, caressing the stone, before decidedly returning to his work. He'd think about it later.

... some time later...

Scourging the Ministry's archive for a solution, certainly hasn't been his first idea, while confronted with the issue of his buzzing fiend and now the Peverell Ring, but hey! Better now than later, aye?

When his lunch hour came, Harry became a savage and the Archive, his prey. He all but threw himself at its doors, trying to get there quicker, because while the Archive contained all the boring data about contracts, treaties, degrees, personal files and the like, it also contained a vast amounts of books, from banned Magiks or confiscated items from Auror Hunts. In other words, exactly what Harry needed.

And that's how Harry found out about the ritual.

And that's exactly what he's going to be doing now.

A/N: Hello to all those of you who have not forgotten this story, yet.

*tentatively smiles and waves hand* Hi.

I know, I know, I'm to blame. And I have no excuse, or at least no non-pathetic-sounding excuse for not putting more content out there. But!

BUT.

I figured out an idea of how to keep myself motivated or if you care, how you can keep me from taking long-lasting vacations from writing. I made a new Instagram account, completely unrelated to my personal one, where I'll post pictures of books, poetry, ideas and just stuff that I write, plus updates of my writing process. It's entitled LostLetterInsta, and if you want to, I don't know, rant or know what the heck I'm doing other than continuing this story, you can find all about that there! *proud smile*

So, you know where to find me, I wrote my piece, now is your turn! Do review, if this chapter pleases you.

... and even if it doesn't, still do! I need to know if I'm doing something right.

For now,

Sayonara~