Young Celestial Wizard [Celestial Grimoire, Harry Potter]

[Evoxius]

The night was still in Godric's Hollow as Voldemort walked through the Potter home. James Potter, caught wandless, fell quickly to a flash of green light. Upstairs, Lily Potter stood between her son and the Dark Lord, her voice breaking as she begged.

"Please, not Harry! Take me instead!"

Voldemort's lip curled in disdain. "Stand aside, you silly girl."

"No, please! Have mercy!" Tears streamed down Lily's face as she spread her arms wide, shielding the crib behind her.

Voldemort raised his wand, annoyance flickering across his serpentine features. "Avada Kedavra!"

The green light rushed forward. In her final moment, Lily's eyes widened at something beyond Voldemort's shoulder before she crumpled to the floor.

Looking down at the toddler, Voldemort frowned. This small creature was supposed to be his prophesied downfall? Better to eliminate any threat now, no matter how insignificant it seemed.

"Avada Kedavra," he spoke again, but this time something unexpected happened. A mirror materialized from nowhere, catching the curse and sending it hurtling back toward its caster. Voldemort had no time to react before his own spell struck him.

His body fell, and from it rose a dark wraith that lingered only briefly before fleeing into the night.

The silence that followed was broken only by Harry's cries until a figure appeared soundlessly in the room. He could have been Harry Potter grown to adulthood – the same untidy black hair, the same brilliant green eyes. On the back of his hand was a curious symbol: a triangle containing a circle, bisected by a vertical line.

The man watched the retreating wraith with contempt before turning to the crying child.

"An unfulfilled prophecy... it could be a good source of power in the future," he whispered. From his robes, he drew an unusual wand, its shaft smooth and unadorned, its handle formed by two joined spheres. With a casual wave, he vanished.

Moments after his departure, a deep blue light fell upon the toddler. Harry's cries subsided as the light covered him, sinking into his skin. His green eyes flickered darker three times before he drifted into a long and peaceful sleep.

[Ironclaw Cunning - MtG - Homelands] – Free Roll

The Ironclaw Orcs were one of the greatest orcish bands in Dominaria, as they were magically bound by their camp-wizards never to attack any force stronger than themselves. While most warring cultures viewed this as a detriment, this curse was what made the Ironclaw clan one of the strongest and most successful orcish clans in known history. They never fought battles they couldn't win, and never fought for hopeless causes.

While you aren't bound by their curse, you do share the cunning of the Ironclaw. Thanks to this, you'll always know when you can or can't defeat someone. You'll never underestimate your opponents, and know when it would be best to carefully pull back and make plans for another day. You've also become pretty good at that, taking note of the opposing force's strength and figuring out ways in which you could still win against them

[Nutrition - The Witcher Novels] – Free Roll

In these times famine is a real danger and many people spend long exhausting time at work just to keep themselves fed. Food is bland for the poor, and what they eat depends on the time of the year and their location. Only the rich and powerful can allow themselves diversity and delicacies like catoblepas meat. Before you start to rage at the world for lacking fast food chains know that now that while you may not enjoy taste of your food it is much more filling for you, as you need very little to sustain yourself. Only one or two good meals a week will suffice for a balanced diet for your person. Though do your best not to unveil this before others, as many starve on what keeps you thriving.

[Animagus - Harry Potter] – Free Roll

You are an Animagus, allowing you to change into an animal at will. You may choose any non-magic animal as your alternate form.

oo0ooOoo0oo​

Harry woke up to the rumble of an engine and the whistle of wind. He was flying through the dark sky on a motorcycle, secured next to a giant of a man who was crying softly.

"Poor James an' Lily," Hagrid sniffled, wiping his eyes with a tablecloth-sized handkerchief.

The sight of the enormous man sent Harry into immediate panic. Tears welled up in his eyes as he began to wail. This person was far too big, far too scary!

"There, there, Harry," Hagrid tried to comfort him, his voice wobbling. "We're goin' to see Professor Dumbledore. He'll know what ter do..."

When Hagrid reached to pat his back, Harry's crying intensified. Something deep inside told him this giant could crush him without effort. The toddler squirmed desperately, trying to escape the gentle but firm grip.

Seeing Harry's distress, Hagrid carefully placed him back in the motorcycle's sidecar, fretting over what to do with the distraught child.

Suddenly, Harry felt something shift within him – a way out! His tiny body twisted and changed, and within moments, a small Golden Eagle sat where the toddler had been. The young bird let out harsh croaks, wriggling free of the confining blankets.

Hagrid turned at the strange sound and his jaw dropped as he watched the eagle that was definitely not a baby boy mere seconds ago. Before he could react, Harry spread his wings and leaped from the motorcycle.

"Harry!" Hagrid shouted, frantically searching the blankets before reality caught up with him. "Blimey, that eagle is 'arry!"

High-pitched whistles echoed through the night as Harry plummeted through the air. The ground rushed up to meet him, lights from the small town below growing larger by the second. Pure terror gripped him as he tumbled, unable to process what was happening.

Just before he would have hit the roof of a house, something clicked. Deep, instinctual knowledge flooded through him, and he spread his wings wide. The wind caught beneath them, turning his fall into a wobbly glide. He let out a surprised chirp as he swooped past a chimney, nearly crashing into it.

Banking left, then right, Harry started to get a feel for his new form. Each movement became more natural, though still clumsy. He dipped between houses, his small size letting him squeeze through gaps that Hagrid's motorcycle couldn't follow.

"Come back, Harry!" Hagrid's voice boomed from somewhere above, making Harry duck lower over the rooftops.

The young eagle darted down a narrow alley, gliding over a quiet street lined with parked cars. His wings were getting tired - flying was hard work for a young bird who'd never done it before. He spotted a tall tree in someone's front garden and aimed for it, almost crashing into the branches before managing to perch.

Harry caught his breath, puffing up his feathers against the cold. The scary giant was gone! He let out a triumphant little squeak, feeling very pleased with himself.

The victory lasted only moments. The rumbling of the motorcycle grew louder again as Hagrid circled back, having spotted Harry's golden feathers gleaming under a streetlight. Harry took off in a panic, but his tired wings couldn't carry him as fast as before.

"Got no choice," Hagrid muttered, pulling out his pink umbrella while steering with his other hand. "Stupefy!"

A red light shot past Harry, missing by inches. He tried diving between two houses, but his exhausted wings finally gave out. He started to fall once more, and this time Hagrid's next spell caught him square in the back.

The world went still, and Harry felt himself being gently scooped up by those enormous hands. Despite his fear, they were surprisingly careful and warm.

"There now," Hagrid said softly, cradling the frozen eagle against his coat. "Let's get yeh somewhere safe, shall we? Though Professor Dumbledore's never gonna believe this one..."

oo0ooOoo0oo​

Dumbledore and McGonagall paused their conversation about the Dursleys as the rumble of an engine grew louder. A motorcycle descended from the cloudy sky, landing with a gentle thud on Privet Drive. Hagrid's large form dismounted, still cradling something carefully in his arms.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir. Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said shakily. "We, er, had a bit of trouble on the way."

"What kind of trouble, Hagrid?" Dumbledore asked, stepping closer. "Is Harry safe?"

McGonagall moved forward as well, her eyes widening as she spotted not a baby, but a small, stunned golden eagle in Hagrid's hands.

"Well, yeh see..." Hagrid shifted uncomfortably. "Little Harry here, he got scared of me size, I reckon. Started cryin' something awful. Then..." He gestured helplessly at the eagle. "He just changed! Right there in the sidecar! Flew off before I could stop him."

"Impossible," McGonagall breathed. "An Animagus transformation? At his age?"

"Had to stun him to catch him again," Hagrid continued apologetically. "Poor little thing was exhausted from flying anyway."

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully, examining the unconscious eagle. "Most unusual. I've never heard of such a thing. Perhaps a new bloodline gift? He is related to the Blacks and they're known for their Metamorphmagus gift, though this is something different…" He raised his wand. "Hominus Reverto."

The yellow spell hit the eagle, and within moments, a sleeping toddler lay in Hagrid's arms instead. Harry's face was peaceful now, showing no signs of his earlier distress.

McGonagall frowned and kept her eyes fixed on the sleeping child. "Albus, bloodline abilities don't simply appear from nowhere. The Potters have never shown such gifts, and while the Blacks have their metamorphs..."

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded, "yet I confess I'm at a loss to explain this development."

McGonagall's gaze shifted between Harry and Number Four, Privet Drive. Suddenly, her expression brightened. "Albus, surely you see we can't leave him here now? The entire wizarding world is celebrating 'The Boy Who Lived,' and he's apparently an… innate Animagus! How could Muggles possibly handle this? He could transform and fly away at any moment!"

Dumbledore remained silent as McGonagall continued with her voice rising with each word. "I've watched these people all day, Albus. They're the worst sort of Muggles! Their son was kicking his mother down the street, screaming for sweets. And that husband - I've never seen anyone more opposed to imagination or anything unusual."

"Minerva..." Dumbledore started, but she continued ranting.

"They'd panic at the first sign of accidental magic, let alone an animal transformation! What happens when young Harry gets upset and suddenly there's an eagle flying around their house?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard, deep in thought. The blood wards would provide the strongest protection, but if Harry's new ability meant he could simply fly away... The risks might outweigh the benefits.

"You make valid points, Minerva," he sighed heavily. "But we must consider Harry's safety above all else. Death Eaters are still at large, seeking revenge. Even if we find someone trustworthy, can they truly protect him?"

"Er, beggin' yer pardon," Hagrid shifted the sleeping toddler in his arms, "but why not keep little Harry at Hogwarts? Safest place there is, innit?"

McGonagall turned to Hagrid with a weary expression. "A child needs more than safety, Hagrid. He needs a family, proper care, and attention. Who would raise him at Hogwarts? We're all teachers with responsibilities, not nursemaids."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said slowly, "we have no better options at the moment." He adjusted his half-moon spectacles and looked at Harry's peaceful face. "The castle is indeed one of the safest places in Britain, and while I don't mean to sound presumptuous, few would dare attempt harm with me nearby."

"Albus, you can't seriously be suggesting-"

"It's temporary, Minerva," Dumbledore raised a hand to calm her protests. "We'll need to find a more permanent solution, but for now, Hogwarts can provide both safety and the space for young Harry to learn control over his Animagus transformation. Better that than risk exposure in the Muggle world or make him an easy target elsewhere."

McGonagall pressed her lips together, clearly wanting to argue further but unable to deny the logic. "And who will look after him day to day?"

"I believe," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "we have a staff meeting to call first thing tomorrow morning. With the house-elves' assistance and a careful schedule, we can arrange suitable care for young Harry without overburdening anyone. The castle has raised many children over the centuries - it knows how to adapt."

 

[Evoxius]

When Harry's eyes fluttered open, he found himself surrounded by unfamiliar faces peering down at him. His lower lip trembled when he didn't see his mother's green eyes looked down on him.

"Mama?" he whimpered, looking around desperately. "Dada?"

When no familiar faces appeared, Harry began to cry in earnest. Something inside him recoiled from the powerful presence of those around him, especially the tall wizard with the long silver beard. His body involuntarily shifted and twisted, leaving a small golden eagle where the toddler had been.

"Merlin's beard!" squeaked Flitwick, nearly falling off his chair. "Minerva, you weren't exaggerating!"

"Of course I wasn't, Filius," McGonagall replied, moving slowly toward the distressed eagle-child. "Though I must admit, seeing it again is no less shocking."

Harry let out soft, frightened chirps as McGonagall approached, but didn't try to fly away. She gently gathered him into her arms, cradling him against her robes.

"There now," she murmured, rocking slightly. "You're safe here, little one."

Dumbledore watched them with concerned eyes before turning to address two house-elves who had appeared with soft pops.

"Tippy, Mipsy, we'll need appropriate food and drink for a toddler. Something soft and easily digestible would be best. And perhaps," he added, glancing at the eagle in McGonagall's arms, "some raw meat as well, just in case."

"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore, sir!" the elves chorused before disappearing.

Professor Sprout moved closer to McGonagall, watching as the small eagle gradually relaxed in her arms. "Poor dear must be terrified. How will we manage this, Albus?"

"We'll create a schedule," Dumbledore said, conjuring a piece of parchment. "Each of us can take shifts caring for young Harry when not teaching. The house-elves will assist during classes."

Professor Kettleburn raised his hand. "I'd be happy to help, but perhaps I should avoid direct childcare given my... current predicament." He gestured to his recently bandaged arm, courtesy of an overexcited Fire Crab.

A soft glow emanated from Harry as he transformed back into a toddler, exhausted from the emotional strain. McGonagall adjusted her hold, letting him rest his head against her shoulder.

"I believe we should set up quarters near mine," McGonagall suggested. "I have the most experience with Animagus transformations, after all."

Madam Pomfrey stepped forward. "I'll need to give him a proper check-up once he's settled. We should establish his baseline health, especially considering You-Know-Who used the Killing Curse on him. Who knows whether that left any injuries?"

As if on cue, Tippy and Mipsy reappeared with a tray of food. There was warm porridge, soft fruits, and a small portion of finely minced meat. Harry stirred at the smell, his small hand clutching McGonagall's robes.

"Let's get him fed and settled," Dumbledore said, rising from his chair. "Tomorrow, we can begin proper arrangements. For now, I believe young Harry has had quite enough excitement for one day."

The staff nodded in agreement, watching as McGonagall carried Harry toward the door. Before they left, Dumbledore added softly, "Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry Potter."

oo0ooOoo0oo​

The years at Hogwarts slowly passed, and Harry grew from a frightened toddler into a curious, albeit eccentric child.

Professor Flitwick became a favorite companion during Harry's second year. The small wizard would levitate toys just out of reach, encouraging Harry to transform and catch them mid-air. These games usually ended with an exhausted but happy Harry curled up in his eagle form on Flitwick's desk, watching the professor grade papers.

Professor Sprout showed him the safer areas of her greenhouses, teaching him which plants were safe to touch. She noticed how he'd watch everything with sharp eyes - even at age three, he seemed to assess each situation carefully before acting.

But it was McGonagall who truly understood him. She recognized the signs of an impending transformation - the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his green eyes would dart around seeking escape routes.

Harry sat cross-legged on the floor of McGonagall's office, an introductory book on Transfiguration open in his lap. After a few minutes of staring at the same page, he closed it with a soft thump and walked over to where McGonagall was grading papers.

"Auntie Min," he said, using the name she allowed only in private, "can I go flying? Please? I'll stay close to the castle, promise!"

McGonagall set her quill down and looked at him over her square spectacles. "You've been very well-behaved lately..." she said thoughtfully.

"And I'll wear the bracelet!" Harry added quickly, bouncing on his toes. The black bracelet was enchanted to let the staff know where he was at all times - a necessary precaution given his tendency to fly off when upset.

"Very well," McGonagall said, reaching over to ruffle his perpetually messy hair. "Go on then."

Harry's face lit up as he grabbed the bracelet from its spot on her desk. The moment it was secured around his wrist, his body shifted into the familiar form of a golden eagle. With a happy chirp, he launched himself through the open window into the bright afternoon sky.

The wind rushed through his feathers as he climbed higher and higher, letting out joyful calls. Up here, he wasn't small anymore. Up here, nothing could hurt him.

His keen eyes swept the grounds below, searching. There - a flash of white. A rabbit, completely unaware of the danger above. Harry's body tensed as predatory instincts took over. One powerful wing-beat sent him into a steep dive.

The rabbit never stood a chance. Harry's talons sank into its back, and he carried his prize to a nearby oak tree. Landing on a thick branch, he kept the creature pinned down, watching it struggle with cold satisfaction.

Here was something smaller than him. Something he could control. After years of being surrounded by wizards and witches who could destroy him with a single spell, after feeling that constant awareness of danger, it felt good to be the powerful one for once.

Harry gripped the rabbit tighter as it squirmed, tilting his head to examine his catch. Just like the castle cats with mice, he loosened his hold slightly, allowing the rabbit to think it could escape before snatching it back. The rabbit's heart pounded against his talons as he repeated this game several times.

When the rabbit's movements grew weak, Harry peered down at the ground far below. He released the rabbit, watching it tumble through the branches. Before it could hit the ground, he swooped down and caught it again, letting out an excited screech.

"Harry James Potter!" McGonagall's voice cut through his play. She stood at the base of the oak tree, hands on her hips.

Harry dropped the now-lifeless rabbit and glided down to a lower branch, ducking his head.

"Transform back this instant, young man."

With a small pop, Harry changed back to his human form, perched carefully on the branch. "Sorry, Auntie Min," he mumbled, knowing he was in trouble but not quite sure why.

"We do not play with our food," she said firmly. "If you're going to hunt like an eagle, you must be quick and clean about it. Now come down here."

Harry carefully climbed down the tree, helped by McGonagall's levitation charm for the last few feet. She took his small hand in hers and began leading him back to the castle.

"But the cats play with mice," Harry protested, having to skip every few steps to keep up with her longer strides.

"And you are not a cat, are you? You are a boy who can become an eagle. Both boys and eagles should know better."

"But why?" Harry whined, dragging his feet as they walked. "The rabbit was smaller than me. And weaker."

McGonagall stopped walking and knelt down to his level. "That's exactly why we must be kind to those smaller than us, Harry. Just because we can hurt something doesn't mean we should."

Harry scrunched up his nose, unconvinced. The rabbit was weak - he knew that as surely as he knew the sky was blue. Just like he knew he could never beat Auntie Min in a fight, or any of the big students with their wands.

"But the rabbit was mine," Harry said stubbornly. "I caught it fair and square. And it couldn't hurt me back, not even a little bit."

"That's not the point-" McGonagall began.

"Is too!" Harry stamped his foot. "Everyone's bigger than me except the rabbits and mice. And the cats get to play with their food, and the older students get to practice spells on smaller things, and-"

"Harry James Potter," McGonagall's tone was stern. "Being stronger than something doesn't give us the right to be cruel."

Harry crossed his arms and pouted. He didn't think he was being cruel. The rabbit was his prey, and he'd caught it all by himself. If it was too weak to get away, then that was its fault, wasn't it? Just like how he had to be careful around the big people with their wands because they were stronger than him.

"Don't want to be kind," he muttered. "Want to be strong."

McGonagall sighed and took his hand again. "Come along. I think someone needs a snack and a nap before we discuss this further."

"M'not hungry," Harry mumbled. "Everyone knows I don't need to eat lots."

McGonagall slowed her pace, looking down at the small boy. "Are you quite sure? You've been flying for a bit."

"Don't want food," Harry insisted, swinging their joined hands back and forth. "The house-elves always give me too much anyway."

McGonagall pressed her lips together. It was true - Harry ate far less than any child his age should, yet he remained healthy and energetic. The healers they'd consulted hadn't found anything wrong, but it still concerned her.

"Perhaps just a small snack?" she suggested. "Tippy made those biscuits you like."

Harry's steps faltered for a moment at the mention of his favorite treats. "The chocolate ones?"

"Indeed." McGonagall felt a small smile tugging at her lips. "And I suppose we could skip the nap, since you're being honest about not being hungry."

"Promise?" Harry looked up at her hopefully, his earlier sulking forgotten.

"Promise. Though we still need to talk about being gentle with smaller creatures."

Harry's face scrunched up again, but he nodded. "Okay, Auntie Min. Can I have two biscuits?"

"We'll see," she said, leading him back toward the castle. Sometimes she wondered if raising a child at Hogwarts was the right choice, but moments like these - just the two of them, negotiating over biscuits - made her heart warm. Even if said child did occasionally torture rabbits in eagle form.

oo0ooOoo0oo​

Harry's footsteps echoed softly through the empty corridor as he made his way past the suits of armor. Filius had been busy with some complicated charm work, and Harry had seized his chance to explore. It wasn't often he got to wander alone - the professors always kept such a close watch on him.

A silvery figure floated nearby, and Harry's face lit up when he recognized the Grey Lady. Ghosts were nice - they couldn't hurt him even if they wanted to.

"Hi!" he called out, waving at her.

The Grey Lady turned, her translucent form shimmering as she regarded him. "Good afternoon, young Potter," she replied with a slight nod.

"I saw a new painting yesterday," Harry told her excitedly. "It had dragons in it! Big ones! And they were all different colors and-"

The sound of voices and footsteps made Harry pause mid-sentence. Three older students in Slytherin robes rounded the corner, deep in conversation.

"I'm telling you, Flitwick's going to test us on Cheering Charms next week-" one of them was saying before stopping abruptly.

"Merlin's balls," another whispered. "Is that Harry Potter?"

Harry tensed but didn't run. He knew they could hurt him - their wands practically screamed danger to his senses - but Professor McGonagall had explained many times that the students wouldn't actually try to harm him.

"It is!" the third Slytherin grinned. "All alone too. No professors around to watch the precious Boy-Who-Lived?"

"We should teach him a little lesson about wandering off," the first one said, pulling out his wand. "Nothing too bad, just a bit of fun."

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry tried to dodge, but the spell hit his legs. His whole body turned stiff, making it impossible to run or transform. He fell to the ground, heart racing as more spells followed.

"Rictusempra!"

"Colovaria!"

Harry gasped for breath through forced giggles as his hair turned a bright pink. He couldn't escape, couldn't fly away. The familiar panic started rising in his chest.

"Cease this at once," the Grey Lady's cold voice cut through the laughter. Her usually serene face had turned stern with disapproval.

But Harry wasn't listening anymore. His green eyes had darkened, and something deep inside him warned that these students could seriously hurt him if they wanted to. He needed to get away, needed to be safe, needed to-

[Mist: Phobia - Final Fantasy IX] – Free, 100CP left

The Mist, much feared by those who fail to understand it, has propagated for ages over the Continents to varying degrees – so much so that it is now considered a fixture of Gaia rather than an oddity. You can manipulate Mist to a limited degree, inflicting upon those who are immersed in it a crippling sensation of panic.

Without Mist around, you can naturally conjure a small amount of Mist by converting it from magical power, cloaking yourself in it like a shroud. In areas of high Mist concentration or after burning a large amount of magic, those affected by the Mist will start seeing images of their phobias.

Something inside Harry knew he could say yes or no to this strange power. He didn't really understand what it was, but he was scared and it felt like it could help. Through his forced giggles, he mentally screamed 'YES!'

Harry immediately knew exactly what to do. He felt his magic stirring, changing into something else - a thin wispy fog that rose from his skin. It wasn't enough though. Even while the tickling spell made him laugh so hard his tummy hurt, Harry pushed more and more of his magic out, watching it turn into thick fog that crept toward the three older students.

The Slytherins didn't notice at first, too busy laughing at his pink hair and giggling. But then the fog reached their feet, swirling up around their legs.

"What's happening?" one of them asked, his smile dropping away.

Harry felt really tired now, like after flying for too long, but he kept watching as the fog got thicker around them. Then the screaming started.

"Acromantula! Get it away!" the tallest boy shrieked, shooting spells at nothing. "It's everywhere! Help!"

The other two weren't doing much better. One had dropped his wand and was running in circles, while the third had curled up into a ball, whimpering about You-Know-Who.

Harry would have laughed if he wasn't so exhausted. He'd never seen big kids so scared before.

The Grey Lady drifted away with an odd look at Harry, leaving him still frozen on the floor while the older boys stumbled around in terror.

A couple of minutes later, quick footsteps echoed down the hall, and Snape appeared. Harry would have made a face if he could. Snape was always mean to him, saying stuff like "Just as arrogant as your father" whenever Harry did anything wrong.

"What is the meaning of this?" Snape demanded, staring at his panicking students.

The Grey Lady floated back. "I believe they're under some sort of curse. Simple commands won't help."

Snape's frown deepened as he raised his wand, levitating the three boys away from the mysterious fog. They gradually stopped screaming, though they still looked pale and shaky.

"These students were attacking young Mr. Potter," the Grey Lady informed him. "They had him cursed with a Body-Bind and were casting hexes at him."

Snape's expression turned dangerous as he glared at the three Slytherins. "Finite Incantatem," he said sharply, pointing his wand at Harry.

Harry jumped to his feet the moment he could move again, staying well away from everyone else.

"All of you," Snape's voice was cold, "will follow me to the Headmaster's office. Now."

Harry trailed along behind them, wondering if he was in trouble too. At least his hair wasn't pink anymore, and Grandpa Dumbledore should take his side in this…

 

[Evoxius]

Snape marched them through the corridors, and Harry stayed at the back of the group, watching the three older boys shuffle along with their heads down. They didn't look so scary anymore.

When they reached the gargoyle guarding Grandpa Dumbledore's office, Snape muttered "Fizzing Whizbee" and the statue leapt aside. Harry had always liked watching that part.

The three Slytherins were very quiet now as they climbed the spiral staircase. Their faces were still pale, and they kept glancing nervously at Harry when they thought no one was looking. Harry noticed this and couldn't help feeling a bit pleased - they weren't so brave now that they'd gotten caught.

As soon as they entered the circular office, Harry spotted the familiar figure of Grandpa Dumbledore behind his desk.

"Grandpa!" Harry ran over to him, ignoring Snape's disapproving look. "They were being mean! They made me all stiff and I couldn't move and then they made me laugh and laugh and my hair went pink!"

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as he pulled Harry onto his lap, though his expression grew more serious as he looked at the three Slytherin boys. "Is this true, Professor Snape?"

"According to the Grey Lady, these three were indeed attacking Mr. Potter. When I arrived, they appeared to be experiencing some form of mass hysteria, surrounded by fog."

Harry cuddled closer to Dumbledore, feeling safe now. "They couldn't hurt me anymore after the Mist came," he said proudly. "They got all scared instead."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "And what happened then, my boy?"

Felix Rosier, the tallest of the three Slytherins, stepped forward. "Headmaster, we were only trying to help-"

"Are you quite certain that's the story you wish to tell?" Snape cut in silkily. "The portraits in that corridor would be most interested in sharing their version of events."

Felix's already pale face went whiter still, and he fell silent.

"Why," Dumbledore asked quietly, "would three fifth-year students decide to cast spells on a four-year-old child? What could possibly have motivated such behavior?"

When no answer came, Dumbledore sighed disappointedly and continued. "One hundred points will be taken from Slytherin. For each of you. You will serve detention for the remainder of the school year, with Professor Snape deciding the nature of your punishment. Furthermore, you will be suspended for three weeks. Your parents will be notified to collect you, and they will be fully informed of your actions today." He paused, looking at each boy in turn. "You will also apologize to young Harry."

"We... we understand, Headmaster," Felix managed weakly.

"Follow me," Snape commanded, his expression promising further consequences once they reached the Slytherin Common Room. The three boys shadowed their Head of House, shoulders slumped.

Once they were gone, Dumbledore looked down at Harry, who was practically vibrating with glee. "Now then, what's this about mist?"

"Oh! Oh!" Harry beamed up at him. "When they were being mean, something told me I could make Mist! And it said-" his face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to remember the exact words, "It said I could make people panic if they're in it! And if I use lots of magic, they see things they're really scared of!"

"Did it now?" Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly. "And how exactly did you learn about this... spell?"

"I dunno," Harry shrugged, playing with the sleeve of his robe. "It just popped in my head when I got scared. Like magic!"

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully, watching the small boy bounce on his feet. "Could you show me this mist, Harry?"

"Right now?" Harry's green eyes lit up with excitement. "But who should I use it on? I don't wanna make you scared, Grandpa."

"Ah, not to worry." Dumbledore smiled warmly and raised his hand. A small snap later, and three colorful canaries appeared, chirping merrily as they fluttered around the office.

"Wow!" Harry clapped his hands, momentarily distracted by the display. "Can you teach me to do that?"

"Perhaps when you're a bit older," Dumbledore chuckled. "Now, about that mist?"

"Oh, right!" Harry scrunched up his face in concentration. Just like before, wispy tendrils began rising from his skin, gradually thickening into a swirling fog. The mist crept across the floor toward the birds, who were still singing cheerfully.

The moment the fog touched them, their sweet songs turned to frightened chirps. The birds began flying erratically around the office, bumping into each other in their panic.

Dumbledore watched with plain amazement as his conjured birds lost all semblance of control. "Deliberate wandless magic at such a young age...?" he murmured, more to himself than to Harry.

Dumbledore kept muttering to himself, occasionally casting a spell at the fog that still lingered in his office. The frightened birds had finally calmed down after the mist dissipated around them, returning to their cheerful chirping.

"Harry," Dumbledore said after a while, lowering his wand. "Could you do something for me?"

"What is it, Grandpa?" Harry asked, swinging his legs as he sat in the big chair across from Dumbledore's desk.

"I'd like you to look into my eyes and think very hard about when that 'something' told you about making the mist. Can you do that for me?"

Harry nodded eagerly, always happy to help his Grandpa. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, remembering the strange words that had appeared in his head. Opening his eyes again, he met Dumbledore's blue gaze.

A few seconds passed before Dumbledore let out a relieved breath. "Well, that's rather interesting," he said, reaching for his candy bowl. "Lemon drop?"

"Yes please!" Harry grabbed the offered sweet, popping it into his mouth. "Did I do good?"

"You did very well," Dumbledore smiled, though his expression grew more serious. "But… we need to talk about this new spell of yours."

"Am I in trouble?" Harry asked around the lemon drop, his lower lip starting to wobble.

"No, no, not at all," Dumbledore assured him quickly. "But we need to set some rules about when you can use this mist. You see, making people see their fears isn't very nice."

"But they were being mean first!" Harry protested.

"I understand that, Harry. And you were very brave today," Dumbledore said gently. "But I want you to promise me something. If anyone tries to bully you again, I want you to transform into an eagle and fly straight to the nearest professor. Can you do that instead of using the mist?"

Harry thought about it for a moment, rolling the lemon drop around in his mouth. "Even if they're being really, really mean?"

"Even then. Unless you have no other choice," Dumbledore nodded. "I'll make an announcement at dinner tonight about what happened, so the other students will know not to bother you. But just in case, promise me you'll try to find a professor first?"

"Okay, Grandpa," Harry agreed reluctantly. "I promise."

Dumbledore reached for another lemon drop as he watched Harry swing his legs back and forth in the oversized chair. The boy's earlier fright seemed forgotten now that he was safe in the familiar office.

"Actually, Harry, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about," Dumbledore said, unwrapping his sweet. "The Ministry is having a special gathering next week. Lots of important witches and wizards will be there with their children."

Harry perked up at that. "Children? Like me?"

"Yes, exactly like you. Some are even your age," Dumbledore smiled. "I thought you might like to come with me. Perhaps make some new friends?"

Harry's face scrunched up in thought. "Will Auntie Min come too?"

"If you'd like her to, I'm sure she would be happy to join us."

"What about the other kids? Are they bigger than me?" Harry asked, remembering his earlier encounter with the older students.

"No, no. These children are just your size," Dumbledore assured him.

Harry fidgeted with the hem of his robes. "But what if they don't like me?"

"I think they'll like you very much. And if you feel scared, you can always hold Auntie Min's hand. What do you say?"

"Can I bring my special bracelet?" Harry held up his arm where the bracelet was wrapped around his wrist.

"Of course you can. We wouldn't want to leave that behind, would we?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Okay, I'll go. But you promise the others are small like me?"

"I promise," Dumbledore said solemnly, though he had a small smile on his face. "Now, shall we go find Auntie Min and tell her about our plans?"

oo0ooOoo0oo​

A week later, Harry clutched McGonagall's hand tightly as they prepared to apparate to the Ministry. He'd never done this before, and his stomach felt all fluttery.

"It'll feel a bit strange," McGonagall warned him, "but it'll be over quickly."

Harry nodded bravely, but still squeezed his eyes shut when the world twisted around him. When he opened them again, they were standing in a huge room with shiny floors and lots of people walking around.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore said, placing a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "The children's gathering is just through those golden doors."

Harry peered around McGonagall's robes at the other children playing in the next room. Some were chasing each other, while others sat in small groups with floating toys.

"Remember what we talked about," McGonagall said softly, smoothing down his perpetually messy hair. "If you need me, I'll be right over there with the other adults."

A witch with bright yellow robes greeted them at the playroom entrance. "Oh my, if it isn't Harry Potter! Welcome, welcome! I'm Miss Pembroke, and I'll be watching over all the children today."

Several kids stopped what they were doing and rushed over, forming a small crowd around Harry. He straightened up, noticing right away that none of them felt dangerous like the older students at Hogwarts.

"Are you really the Boy-Who-Lived?" a girl with pigtails asked, bouncing on her toes. "My mummy says you live at Hogwarts!"

"Is it true you fought a dragon last week?" a boy with missing front teeth chimed in. "My brother said you did!"

Harry giggled. "I didn't fight any dragons, they're still too strong for me! But I do live at Hogwarts with all the professors."

"What's it like?" another girl asked. "Do you get to do lots of magic?"

"Sometimes," Harry said, puffing up his chest a bit. "Auntie Min - that's Professor McGonagall - she teaches me lots of things. And I can turn into a bird!"

"No way!" several voices chorused.

A boy with perfectly combed blonde hair pushed his way to the front. "Prove it then! I bet you're lying."

Harry immediately felt annoyed at the way this boy was talking – he was way too weak to accuse him of anything. "I don't have to prove anything to you," he said, crossing his arms. "You're too little to understand anyway."

"I'm not little!" the blonde boy protested. "I'm Draco Malfoy, and my father says-"

"Want to play exploding snap?" a friendly-looking boy interrupted, holding up a deck of cards. "My mum put a charm on them so they only make tiny pops."

"I'm better at chase games," Harry said, knowing he could easily outrun them. "Want to play tag instead?"

Most of the children agreed enthusiastically, but Draco hung back with a scowl. "That's a baby game."

"You're just scared I'll catch you first," Harry taunted, feeling bold.

"Am not!"

"Prove it then," Harry mimicked Draco's earlier tone. The other children giggled.

Soon they were all running around the playroom, shrieking with laughter as Harry easily caught one child after another. He was faster and more coordinated than them, used to racing around Hogwarts' corridors and catching small prey outside of the castle.

"Got you!" Harry tagged a small girl with red hair. She stumbled and started crying when she fell.

"Susan!" Miss Pembroke hurried over. "Are you alright, dear?"

"Harry pushed me!" Susan sniffled.

"Did not!" Harry protested. "She fell by herself 'cause she's clumsy!"

"Now, Harry," Miss Pembroke began, "we need to be gentle with-"

"But she's just being a baby," Harry interrupted. "I barely touched her! It's not my fault she's weak and falls over nothing."

Harry watched Susan cry, reminded of how the white rabbits would squeal when he caught them. She was small and weak just like them. Though he couldn't play with her the same way - Auntie Min would be really mad, and everyone else would probably not play with him anymore.

"Perhaps we should try a different game," Miss Pembroke suggested, helping Susan up. "Who wants to play with the snitches?"

The children cheered and followed Miss Pembroke to where several toy brooms and practice snitches waited. Harry took the lead, making sure to stay ahead of the group.

They had been chasing the snitches for a few minutes when one of them started moving strangely. The snitch's wings hummed with an angry buzz before it shot toward his head, much faster than the others.

His body tensed as danger flooded his senses. Without thinking, Harry transformed into an eagle, the snitch whizzing past where his head had been moments before.

"Immobulus!" The Ministry worker supervising them quickly froze the malfunctioning snitch. "I am so sorry about that! These are supposed to be child-safe..."

Harry changed back, still tense at the unexpected danger. The other children crowded around him, their eyes wide with excitement.

"That was so cool!"

"Can you teach me?"

"Do it again!"

"How'd you learn that?"

"It's only because he lives at Hogwarts," a boy with dark hair cut in. "And has no parents. If I lived there, I could do it too!"

Harry felt his face get hot. "What's your name?" he demanded.

"Theodore Nott," the boy said, lifting his chin.

"Well, Theodore," Harry stepped closer, "you're wrong! I can do it because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived. Not 'cause I don't have..." he trailed off, getting angrier.

"At least I have parents!" Theodore shot back.

Harry went very still. His angry expression melted away into an odd smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Want to be friends, Theo?" he asked sweetly, holding out his hand.

Theodore stared at the offered hand. "Why?"

"Just shake it," Harry insisted, grabbing Theodore's hand before he could pull away. A thin wisp of mist curled around their joined hands, cool and damp against their skin. The air grew heavy with an unnatural chill that made Theodore's fingers tremble in Harry's grip.

Theodore's eyes went wide with fear. His lower lip trembled as he tried to tug his hand free.

"Still think you can do everything I can?" Harry asked quietly.

Theodore shook his head quickly, tears forming in his eyes.

Harry let go of his hand and grinned at the other children who were watching. "Let's keep playing! I bet I can catch the snitch first!"

Theodore stood frozen in place as Harry ran off with the others. Harry glanced back, feeling confused. Why had Theodore tried to be mean to him? Everyone should know better - just like how Harry knew not to bother the students because they were stronger than him.

"Weird," Harry muttered to himself as he chased after a practice snitch. Maybe Theodore was just dumb, like those rabbits that tried to fight back instead of running away. And that Draco boy too - acting all important when Harry could tell neither of them could hurt him at all.

"Harry! Harry, look!" Susan had long forgotten about their little 'fight' and was now pointing at something. "The snitch is stuck in the curtains!"

Harry zoomed over on his toy broom, spotting the golden ball trapped in the heavy fabric. He reached out to grab it, but paused when he noticed Theodore staring at him from across the room. The boy quickly looked away when their eyes met.

"Got it!" Harry announced, snatching the snitch and holding it up. The other children clapped and cheered, making him smile. This was better - they were acting right now, being nice to someone stronger than them.

Miss Pembroke called them all for snacks soon after. Harry sat between Susan and a quiet boy named Neville, deliberately ignoring Theodore who kept stealing glances at him.

"Want my biscuit?" Neville offered shyly. "Gram says sharing is nice."

Harry grinned. "Thanks! But I'm not very hungry. Auntie Min says I don't need to eat much."

"Who's Auntie Min?" Susan asked through a mouthful of juice.

"Professor McGonagall. But I only call her that when there's other students nearby," Harry explained proudly. "She teaches me lots of stuff, and doesn't get mad when I turn into an eagle inside."

The other children looked impressed, except for Theodore who was still pretending not to listen. Harry wondered if maybe he should use the mist again, just to remind him who was stronger. But Grandpa had made him promise...

 

[Evoxius]

"Thank you for coming today, Harry," McGonagall said as they prepared to leave the playroom. Some of the other children were already heading out with their parents, Draco Malfoy strutting ahead of his father while showing off his new toy snitch.

"Auntie Min, did you see me catch all the snitches?" Harry chattered excitedly next to her. "Even the fast ones! And I made new friends and-"

He stopped mid-sentence, his smile fading. Something in the corner of his eye made his tummy feel funny. Not hungry-funny or sick-funny, but the same way it felt when the bigger students were nearby. His eyes darted around until he spotted it - a small brown weasel near a potted plant.

Harry frowned, grabbing McGonagall's hand tightly. The weasel felt wrong. Not as strong as Grandpa or Auntie Min, but way stronger than any animal should be. Like when he saw the sixth years practice dueling, but even stronger somehow.

"Auntie Min," he whispered, tugging on her robes. "That weasel... it's dangerous."

He didn't know how to explain it better. How do you tell someone that a little weasel felt more dangerous than most of the adults?

McGonagall looked down at him, noting his sudden change in demeanor. Harry wasn't usually this quiet unless something was truly wrong. She followed his gaze to the weasel, tensing as she registered the unnatural stillness of the creature.

"Harry, get behind-" she started, but the weasel had already noticed them watching.

But the weasel had already noticed them watching, and suddenly there was a scary wizard there instead - with wild eyes and torn black robes. Harry had never felt danger like this directed at him before.

"The famous Boy-Who-Lived," the wizard snarled, his wand already moving. "My Lord's killer!"

Several things happened very fast. McGonagall's shield charm blocked the first spell. Harry transformed into an eagle purely because his body told him to, wings beating frantically as he tried to get away. And Draco Malfoy, who had been showing off his snitch-catching near the door, shouted "Watch this, Harry!" and unknowingly ran right into the path of the wizard's second spell.

A flash of purple light hit Draco in the chest. The blonde boy crumpled to the ground with a small whimper that made Harry's eagle heart skip. That spell had been meant for him. That spell had been meant for him and now Draco, who wasn't even close to being as strong as Harry, was hurt because of it.

The scary wizard laughed - an awful sound that reminded Harry of the time he'd heard a fox killing its prey. "Crucio!" he shouted, aiming at Harry again.

But then Grandpa was there, appearing between Harry and the bad wizard like he'd always been there. Harry had never felt power like this from him before - it was like watching a dragon fight an ant.

"Rookwood," Dumbledore said quietly, but his voice carried through the whole room. With just a wave of his hand, the bad wizard's spell was blocked by a pane of glass that immediately exploded into glass shards.

The wizard - Rookwood – turned into black smoke that immediately flew straight for the exit at speeds even Harry couldn't match so quickly as an eagle, but Dumbledore's magic grabbed him like invisible hands. Harry watched in awe as his Grandpa forced the scary wizard to his knees without even using his wand.

"You dare," Dumbledore's voice was colder than Harry had ever heard it, "attack children in my presence?"

Harry landed on McGonagall's arm, transforming back but keeping his eyes fixed on the scene. He could hear Draco crying softly where his father was holding him, could hear other children sniffling too.

"He killed our Lord!" Rookwood spat, struggling against Dumbledore's magic. "The Dark Lord would have given us everything! And this brat-"

"Silencio," Dumbledore said almost lazily, and Rookwood's voice cut off. More Aurors were rushing in now, led by the scary eye-wizard from before.

But Harry wasn't really listening anymore. He was thinking about Draco getting hurt. About how he'd felt the danger but hadn't said anything fast enough.

"Grandpa?" he asked in a small voice. "Is... is Draco going to be okay?"

Dumbledore's face softened as he looked at Harry, though his magic still held Rookwood firmly. "He will be, my boy. Though I believe we need to have a talk about what happened today."

Harry nodded, watching as the Aurors took Rookwood away. He noticed that none of the other children would look at him now. They huddled with their parents, stealing scared glances his way.

It made his tummy feel funny again, but not like danger-funny. More like lonely-funny. He'd just started making friends, and now...

"I should have said something sooner," he whispered to McGonagall. "About the weasel feeling wrong. Then Draco wouldn't..."

"You did very well, Harry," McGonagall said firmly, but Harry could feel her hand trembling slightly where it rested on his shoulder. "You noticed the danger when none of us did. That's very impressive for someone your age."

Harry stared at the floor, feeling strange inside. Draco had gotten hurt because he was too weak - that's how things worked. When Harry played with rabbits as an eagle, the slow ones got caught. When the older students were mean, it was because they were stronger. But seeing Draco fall like that made his tummy feel all twisty, even though it shouldn't.

"Can we go home now?" he asked quietly. "I don't... I don't think anyone wants to play anymore."

While Auntie Min led him away, he heard Mr. Malfoy's angry voice rising behind them: "Dumbledore, this is outrageous! My son could have been killed! Having that boy here without proper security-"

Harry squeezed McGonagall's hand tighter. He wasn't going to cry - crying was for babies. But why did he feel so bad? Draco was the one who ran in front of the spell like a dumb rabbit. That's what Harry always thought when small things got hurt - they were just too weak or too stupid. So why did his chest hurt when he remembered Draco's whimper?

Just then, while these confusing thoughts swirled in his head, his green eyes darkened momentarily...

[Once Every Century - Fate/Legends - Empires of Antiquity] – 100CP, 100CP left

Talent that comes only once in a hundred years might stand out at the time but against the expanse of history? It just means there's been a dozen or two others like that already. World class talent might be the peak of what normal humans can do but it's just the start for those in the magical world. Like the famed Salieri and his music, you have that world class talent in one art form of your choosing. Singing, the piano, painting, architectural design, acting or some other method. With just this and the right connections, you could certainly go down in the history of the mundane as one of the greatest performers of your art to ever live. But you've got the potential to go further, as you find yourself having a moderately easier time learning magical spells and abilities closely associated with your chosen art, as well as such things becoming easier to use and somewhat more powerful as well. Magic cast through a special instrument of the musical art you've mastered would be stronger, whereas a great painter would find magic relating to manipulating paintings and drawn images to be significantly better for them than any others.

Harry closed his eyes momentarily, trying to push away the scary thoughts. He didn't want to think about Draco getting hurt anymore. The strange words about talent, art and singing filled his head, and he latched onto it eagerly.

"Auntie Min?" He tugged at her sleeve as they stepped out of the fireplace in Hogsmeade, green eyes bright with forced excitement. "What's better - singing or drawing or... arki... archi..."

"Architecture?" McGonagall offered gently. She noticed how quickly he'd switched topics, but didn't comment on it. If focusing on something new helped him cope with what happened, she would follow his lead.

"What's that mean?" Harry asked, deliberately jumping into a puddle. Water splashed everywhere, but he didn't care - puddles were fun, and fun things made bad memories go away.

McGonagall sighed fondly and cast a cleaning charm on his shoes. "It means designing buildings, like castles and houses."

"Oh." Harry wrinkled his nose. "That's boring. But what about the other things? Can you do magic with singing?"

McGonagall nodded as they walked along the path to Hogwarts. "Some wizards and witches use music in their spells. Professor Flitwick leads a choir with the older students."

"Really?" Harry bounced on his toes, genuinely interested now. "But what about drawing? Like the pictures in the castle that talk to me!"

"That's right. Magical artists can create all sorts of wonderful things. Portraits that move and speak, paintings you can step into..."

"Could I make my dragon drawings fly around for real?" Harry bounced excitedly beside her.

"With proper training, yes. Though that's very advanced magic," McGonagall smiled down at him, noting how the tension had slowly left his shoulders as they walked. "Would you like to learn more about magical art?"

"Yes! Yes!" Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Can we ask Uncle Filius for more crayons? And maybe some of those special paints that change color?"

"I suppose we could," McGonagall said. "But you'll have to promise not to draw on the castle walls again."

"That was one time!" Harry protested. "And the suit of armor said he liked his new mustache!"

McGonagall tried to hide her smile. "Nevertheless, paper only from now on. Deal?"

"Deal!" Harry grinned, then immediately got distracted by a chocolate frog hopping across their path. "Look! Can I catch it?"

"We're almost late for dinner as it is," McGonagall said, gently steering him back toward the castle. "Perhaps tomorrow we can ask Filius about those art supplies."

Harry skipped alongside her, already planning all the magical pictures he would make. Maybe he could even draw something scary enough to keep the mean older students away - though it probably wouldn't be as scary as his mist.

 

[Evoxius]

2nd​ of May, 1986.

The spring breeze ruffled Harry's golden feathers as he soared through one of Hogwarts' many open corridors. Flying was still the best thing ever, even after doing it for years. He liked how the castle looked different from up here - all the little nooks and passages he couldn't reach as a human were perfect for an eagle.

As he glided past the fifth floor, voices caught his attention. A group of students were huddled around what looked like a frozen suit of armor, frost creeping up the stone walls around it.

"Incendio!" A red-headed boy with a Gryffindor tie called out, orange flames shooting from his wand. The ice hissed but barely melted.

"You're doing it wrong," a girl with brown hair said, pushing up her sleeves. "Professor Flitwick said we need to concentrate the flame more, like this-"

Her spell came out stronger, making the ice crack slightly. She paused mid-cast, looking up as Harry flew overhead. "Hey, look! That's Harry Potter, isn't it?"

"Focus, Lottie!" the red-headed boy said. "This ice is spreading faster than last time..."

Harry circled once more, curious. He'd heard the older students talking about something called a Cursed Vault making ice appear everywhere. It seemed silly that Grandpa hadn't fixed it yet - he could probably melt all the ice with just one spell. But grown-ups were weird sometimes.

Flapping his wings, Harry continued up toward the Astronomy Tower. It was empty this early in the afternoon, which was perfect. He landed gracefully on the stone floor, shifting back to human form and straightening his black robes.

"Much better," he muttered, pulling out his special brown pouch. Uncle Filius had made it bigger on the inside last month, after Harry complained about having to drag his art supplies around in a huge bag. Now everything fit perfectly!

Harry hummed to himself as he set up his easel, making sure it faced the best view of the mountains. The tape Septima gave him helped keep the canvas straight - she'd shown him how to measure the angles properly during maths lessons, though Harry usually just eyeballed it now.

His magical paints came next, all lined up on the palette just how he liked them. The blues that would turn purple, greens that became gold, and his favorite - the silver that slowly changed to pink. The bottles sparkled in the sunlight as he arranged them.

After putting on his special paint smock (covered in tiny moving snitches from Madam Hooch), Harry grabbed his favorite brush. It was shorter than the others, perfect for his small hands. He tested it on a paper towel, then started sketching the mountains lightly.

The view never got boring, even though he'd seen it hundreds of times. Sometimes as an eagle among the clouds, and sometimes just sitting up here with his paints. The cursed ice downstairs was already forgotten as he started on the sky, using soft strokes to make silver clouds that would slowly turn pink as they dried and then slowly cycle between both.

Harry mixed his colors carefully, humming a tune he had overheard from the Frog Choir. Painting was the best thing he'd learned since forever ago - well, except for flying. But flying was different. Flying was freedom and hunting and seeing everything from way up high. Painting was... quiet. Safe. Like when Auntie Min would read him stories before bed.

He dabbed his brush in the shifting silver paint, adding highlights to the clouds. Nearly two years ago, when the strange feeling in his head had told him to pick an art to be talented at, he'd chosen painting without much hesitation. Uncle Filius had been very surprised at how quickly he learned - apparently most kids his age couldn't paint much more than stick figures.

The brush moved smoothly across the canvas as Harry added more detail to the mountains. Painting helped him forget about scary things, like what happened at the Ministry. Like how Draco still couldn't breathe right sometimes. At the last gathering, when Harry had tried to show Draco his newest drawings, the blonde boy had backed away so fast he'd bumped into his father. Then he'd started coughing again, that awful wheezing sound that made Harry's stomach hurt with guilt.

Harry shook his head, focusing back on his work. The magical paints shifted and swirled as he added the final touches - a pair of eagles soaring through the silver-pink clouds, their wings catching the golden sunlight. It wasn't perfect, but it was pretty good for someone who'd only been painting for-

The sound of clapping made Harry jump, nearly knocking over his easel. He spun around to find a girl watching him, wearing Gryffindor robes that looked a bit messy. She felt different from other second-years - more like the older students who practiced dueling after classes. Wait, wasn't she the student he saw earlier using the Fire-Making spell?

"That's amazing!" she said, walking closer to look at the painting. "I'm Charlotte Whitewood. Though I already know who you are, of course - everyone does."

"Thanks," Harry said, relaxing slightly when she smiled. "Do you like painting too?"

"Oh, I'm terrible at it," Charlotte laughed. "But I like to think I'm good at solving mysteries. Like the one about all this cursed ice appearing everywhere..." She glanced at him hopefully.

"The ice is weird," Harry agreed, carefully cleaning his brush. "But Grandpa - I mean Headmaster Dumbledore - doesn't tell me about it. He says it's 'grown-up business.'" He made a face at the last part.

Charlotte sat down cross-legged near his easel. "That must be frustrating. You live here all year round, right? So you probably see lots of interesting things, especially when you're flying."

"Sometimes," Harry said, perking up at the mention of flying. "Last week I saw Peeves putting soap in the fountain, and once I found a room full of bouncing balls! But the ice is boring. It just sits there being cold."

"Actually," Charlotte leaned forward, "the ice isn't always in the same place. It moves around the castle. Maybe next time you're flying, you could keep an eye out? Let me know if you spot any new patches?"

Harry thought about it while packing away his paints. It did sound kind of fun, like a treasure hunt but backwards. And flying was always better than walking anyway.

"Okay," he nodded. "But only if you tell me what you find out too. The professors never tell me anything because they think I'm too little."

"Deal," Charlotte grinned, holding out her hand. "Partners?"

"Partners!" Harry shook her hand. After Charlotte left, he nibbled his lip, glancing at the sunny sky. There was still plenty of time before dinner...

Transforming back into an eagle, Harry launched himself off the tower. The wind ruffled his feathers as he climbed higher, scanning for potential prey. He'd been wanting to try more experiments with his mist ability.

A small sparrow caught his eye, fluttering between the towers. Harry's wings tilted, adjusting his flight path to intercept the smaller bird. Within moments, his talons closed gently around it.

Beating his powerful wings, Harry rose higher into the sky where no one would notice. He released a thin tendril of mist around the sparrow, keeping his grip loose enough that it could still move. The high winds kept dispersing the mist too quickly though, making Harry let out an irritated screech.

He focused harder, trying to keep the mist in place like it had done with those Slytherin students. The mist seemed to respond, clinging more stubbornly around the sparrow instead of dissipating. That was interesting - he hadn't realized he could control where it went before.

Harry tried shaping the mist into a dragon, but it just sort of... gathered. Not quite what he wanted. A sharp "kree!" of surprise escaped him when he noticed the sparrow had gone completely still in his grasp.

Diving down to perch on the Dark Tower, Harry examined the motionless bird with a gentle poke of his talon. No response. Was it dead? But he'd only made it scared with the mist...

His stomach growled softly. Well, he hadn't eaten for the better part of a week, so there's no point wasting good food. Harry grasped the sparrow with his talons and opened his hooked beak to rip off a large chunk of meat before tilting his head back and swallowing it down his throat. Harry quickly finished off the small sparrow, feeling satiated.

Tossing the stripped sparrow off the Dark Tower, he looked toward Dumbledore's office before remembering his Grandpa was probably at the Ministry today. Aunt Min and Uncle Filius would be teaching too... He needed help figuring out how to shape the mist, but the new Defense teacher was still basically a stranger even now.

Movement caught his eye - three Hufflepuff girls walking along the Covered Bridge. Maybe they could help instead?

With a quick hop off his perch, he let gravity pull him into a dive. The wind whistled past his feathers as he swooped down, beating his wings back as he landed on the bridge's wooden guardrail.

The girls screamed, jumping back. One of them nearly dropped her books.

Harry let out an annoyed screech. Couldn't they tell he was friendly? He hopped down from the rail, transforming mid-jump and landing on his feet.

"I need help," he announced, not bothering to introduce himself. Everyone knew who he was anyway - he was the only kid who lived in the castle.

The girls exchanged looks before the one with bright pink hair stepped forward. "Wotcher! I'm Tonks. These are Penny and Chiara," she gestured to the blonde girl and the silver-haired one.

Harry's eyes fixed on Chiara. Something felt weird about her. She wasn't super-dangerous like the professors, but... there was something else.

"Why do you feel funny?" he asked bluntly, tilting his head. "Not funny like haha, but funny like... different."

Chiara's face went white. "I- I don't know what you mean," she stammered, taking a small step back.

"Yes you do," Harry insisted, curiosity making him bold. "You feel like two different dangerous things at once. How come?"

"Please," Chiara whispered, her hands trembling slightly. "It's just... something private. A family thing. Can we not talk about it?"

Harry scrunched up his nose, not liking that answer. But the way Chiara hunched her shoulders reminded him of how scared the other kids looked after the bad wizard attacked. He didn't want to make anyone feel that way.

"Sorry," he mumbled, kicking at the wooden planks of the bridge. "I didn't mean to be mean."

Tonks cleared her throat, glancing between them before her hair shifted to a cheerful yellow. "So what kind of help did you need, Harry?"

"I need help with a spell," Harry said, brightening up. "But it's not a normal spell. It's mine."

"Yours?" Penny asked, adjusting her books. "What do you mean?"

"I can make this mist that scares people," Harry explained proudly. "But I can't make it do shapes yet. It just goes everywhere."

Tonks raised her eyebrows. "Er, Harry... kids your age aren't supposed to do magic yet. You need a wand and everything."

"But I can!" Harry protested. "Watch!"

Before any of the girls could stop him, Harry concentrated hard. A thin wisp of grey mist curled from his fingers, making all three girls step back instinctively.

"See?" Harry said, frowning as the mist dispersed. "But I want it to make cool shapes, like dragons! Can you help?"

Mid-sentence, Harry suddenly froze, his finger shooting up to point at Tonks. "Wait a minute—your hair! It was pink before, and now it's yellow! How did you do that?"

Tonks grinned, her hair cycling through several bright colors. "I'm a Metamorphmagus - means I can change how I look whenever I want."

"That's so cool!" Harry bounced on his toes. "Can you teach me?"

"Sorry kiddo, you have to be born with it," Tonks said. "But about this mist of yours... does Professor Dumbledore know you can do this?"

"Uh huh. Grandpa said not to use it on students unless I really have to," Harry nodded. "But he didn't say anything about practicing with it!"

Penny and Chiara exchanged worried looks, but Tonks seemed intrigued. "Well, most magic needs a lot of focus and practice. Maybe try picturing exactly what you want the mist to do?"

Harry scrunched up his face in concentration. Another wisp of grey mist appeared, slightly thicker this time. He tried to make it look like a snake, but it just wobbled in the air before fading away.

"It's not working," he pouted. "How come your magic does what you want it to?"

"Years of practice," Tonks said. "Plus we use wands to help control our magic better. Maybe you should wait until you're older-"

"But I don't wanna wait!" Harry stomped his foot. "The older kids are mean sometimes and I need better ways to scare them away!"

The three girls looked at each other with concern. Penny knelt down to Harry's level. "Are students bullying you?"

"Not anymore," Harry said proudly. "They learned not to after I showed them my mist. But what if they forget? I need it to be scarier, like a big dragon made of mist!"

Chiara and Penny shared another worried look, but Tonks seemed more interested in the magic itself. Her hair shifted from pink to blue as she thought.

"Hey, squirt - before we talk about making scary dragons, how about we try something simpler?" Tonks sat down cross-legged on the bridge, patting the spot next to her. "Come here."

Harry plopped down beside her, swinging his legs through the gaps in the bridge's railing. "But simple stuff is boring."

"Not always," Tonks grinned. "Watch this." Her nose suddenly grew into a duck's bill, making Harry giggle. "See? Simple, but fun. I had to start with easy changes before I could do the cool stuff."

"I guess," Harry mumbled, kicking his feet. "So what do I gotta do?"

"Close your eyes," Tonks instructed. "Now think about something easy - like a ball. Can you picture it?"

"Uh huh. Like the bouncy one Uncle Filius lets me play with?"

"Perfect! Now try making your mist look like that."

Harry screwed up his face in concentration. A thin wisp of grey mist curled from his fingers, wobbling in the air. "It's not working right!"

"You're trying too hard," Penny said gently. "When you draw, you see the picture in your head first, right? Before you put it on paper?"

Harry nodded eagerly. "Yeah! Like when I paint eagles, I think about how I look when I'm flying."

"Try that with the mist," Penny suggested. "Just like painting, but instead of using colors, you're using the mist."

That made more sense to Harry. He closed his eyes, imagining the round bouncy ball Uncle Filius gave him. The mist felt different this time as it flowed from his fingers, gathering into a wobbly sphere about the size of his fist, though it kept trying to drift apart.

"I did it!" he shouted, jumping up in excitement. The misty ball immediately dissolved. "Aww, it broke."

"That was brilliant!" Tonks ruffled his hair. "Way better than my first try at morphing. I got stuck with purple eyebrows for a week."

"Really?" Harry giggled. "Can you show me?"

"Oh no," Tonks laughed. "That memory is staying buried forever. But how about we practice more with your mist? Maybe try making the ball again?"

 

[Evoxius]

Harry waved goodbye to Tonks, Chiara and Penny, yelling "Thanks for helping!" as they walked away. Once they were gone, he held out his palm and concentrated. The mist gathered much faster now, forming a smooth ball in just two seconds.

"Better," he muttered, studying the swirling grey sphere. "But not good enough."

The talk with Tonks and the others had helped a lot. Penny's idea about treating the mist like painting made so much sense - he just had to picture what he wanted, like drawing but with scary fog instead of paint. And Tonks was right about starting small. Even though he really wanted to make giant scary things right away, learning to make a proper ball first was probably smart.

Harry watched the misty sphere hover above his palm. It was kind of pretty, in a spooky way. The way it swirled reminded him of the moving staircases, always shifting but staying in the same basic shape. Maybe if he practiced enough, he could make the mist move like that on purpose?

His mind boggled at what he could do - if a little bit of mist could scare those mean Slytherins so much, what would a giant misty dragon do? Or maybe a nundu? He'd seen pictures of those in Grandpa's books. They were basically giant leopards that breathed disease, which was super scary. If he could make his mist look like one of those...

Still... he was getting better. The first time he made the mist, it had just gone everywhere. Now he could at least make shapes, even if they weren't very good ones yet. Maybe next time he could try making a cube, or...

His green eyes darkened and strange words appeared in his mind, making him freeze.

[Bending Arts (Firebending) - Avatar: The Last Airbender] – 100CP, 100CP left

You were born with the ability to manipulate the element of your nation, and have been trained in its use. The Bending Arts differ from element to element, but always involve a combination of physical movements designed to evoke that element, focused with the will of the Bender. Bending an element provides substantial control over it, allowing you to move it, shape it, and direct it, though the exact nature of each depends on the individual element. It should be noted, however, that you cannot actually create an element - though Firebenders can transform their body heat into a raging inferno and Airbenders can make the breath from their lungs into a gale, Waterbenders and Earthbenders must have a source of their element to Bend.

The description that followed made Harry's eyes go wide. This was just like when he got his mist and painting talent! He'd learned by now that other kids probably didn't get special abilities like this. Even Tonks, who could change how she looked, was born that way like he was with his Innate Animagus ability. This was different - this was his own special thing. It was probably a perk of being the Boy-Who-Lived…

He read the description carefully this time, not wanting to miss anything important like he had before. The mention of '100 CP' was weird - he still didn't know what CP meant, but it had to be important if it could give him such amazing things. Maybe it stood for 'Cool Powers'? That made sense to his mind.

Carefully looking over the different types of bending described, Harry felt absolutely certain that fire was the best choice. What good was air? You couldn't even see it! And water? That was just silly - anyone could splash someone with water. Earth might be useful, but you needed actual rocks and dirt around. That would be useless when he was flying as an eagle.

But fire... fire was different. The description said he could make it from his own body heat, which meant he'd always have fire available. And… and maybe he could combine it with his mist somehow? A giant dragon made of fear-mist that could also breathe real fire would be absolutely amazing!

The moment Harry accepted the new power, pain exploded through every part of him. He collapsed onto the bridge, biting back a scream. It felt like someone was drawing lines inside his whole body with burning hot needles, but a hundred times worse than when he'd scraped his knee last week.

"Ow ow ow," he whimpered, curling into a ball. The burning started in his belly, spreading out like someone was drawing a map with fire under his skin. It went everywhere - up his back, down his legs, through his arms, even into his fingers and toes. His head felt funny too, like something hot was drawing lines inside his skull.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus past the pain. He could feel the burning paths connecting to each other, making a huge web through his whole body. Some spots, where the lines crossed, felt extra thick and warm - like having tiny suns inside him. The biggest one was in his belly, right where the burning had started.

"It's like... like a tree," he muttered through clenched teeth. "But inside out."

The main trunk was in his middle, with big branches going up and down. Smaller branches spread everywhere else, with the tiniest ones reaching all the way to his fingertips and toes. He could feel special paths leading to his palms and the bottoms of his feet, and even one that went right to the middle of his forehead.

Just when Harry thought he couldn't take anymore, the burning changed. Now it felt warm and nice, like drinking hot chocolate after flying in the cold. The paths that had hurt so much now felt... right. Like they'd always been there, just waiting to wake up.

"Wicked," Harry whispered, carefully sitting up. His whole body felt different - stronger, but not just in his muscles. It was like someone had taken all his insides and rearranged them to work better. He could feel the energy flowing through all those new paths, gathering in the spots where they crossed.

Harry quickly undid the clasp of his outer robe, letting it fall around him as he pulled up his shirt. His skin looked normal, but something felt different underneath. Pressing his fingers against his stomach, he could feel that his muscles were harder, more defined. Not big and bulky like the seventh-year students who practiced dueling, but definitely stronger than before.

The warm paths seemed to start right where his fingers were touching, spreading out like a spider web through his whole body. When he focused on them, they felt like... like magic, but different. Not the cold tingly feeling he got when using his mist, or the fuzzy warmth of transforming into an eagle. This was more like having tiny lightning bolts under his skin, but friendly ones that wanted to help him.

He remembered reading about blood vessels in one of Madam Pomfrey's books when he was bored - these vessels felt similar, but instead of blood they carried... energy? Power? Whatever it was, it made him feel stronger, more balanced. Like his body was a perfectly tuned instrument instead of just muscles and bones thrown together.

Taking an experimental jump, his eyes widened when he went higher than ever before. He did a little spin in mid-air, amazed at how natural it felt. His human body just knew exactly how to move, like how he instinctively knew how to use his wings and talons in eagle form.

This new flexibility and strength could be really useful if he had to fight. If he could move like this while using his mist ability, he'd be much harder to catch. And once he figured out how to use fire...

Harry grinned, imagining himself doing cool flips while shooting flames and scary mist at anyone who tried to hurt him. But first, he needed to practice. A lot. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he took a deep breath and settled into a stance that somehow felt right - feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. His body just knew this was how it should be, like how he instinctively knew how to fly as an eagle.

He punched forward hesitantly, but nothing happened. Harry frowned as he tried another punch. Something wasn't quite right. The energy was there, pooling in his core like a warm lake, but when he tried to direct it through those new pathways to his hands, it just... meandered. Like trying to pour honey uphill. He could feel it wanting to move, trying to rush through those channels under his skin, but there was no force behind it.

"It's like..." Harry muttered, focusing on the sensation, "like when the castle fountains got blocked with leaves. The water was there, but it couldn't flow properly."

He closed his eyes, concentrating on that warm energy in his core. The paths were there, clearly mapped through his body. The energy was there too, ready to be used. But something was missing - some kind of push to get it moving fast enough to become fire.

After a few more attempts, Harry sat down cross-legged on the bridge to think. Any flames coming out were tiny at most, and it somehow like when Aunt Min tried painting that one time. She'd gotten all the colors right, but the painting looked... empty. Not alive like his paintings were. Was that what was happening here?

The knowledge bubbled up again, clearer this time. Firebending needed emotional fuel - either the explosive force of rage and hatred, or the steady burn of passion and drive. Harry considered this carefully. Rage would be easier, maybe. He had plenty to be angry about - those mean Slytherins, the Death Eater who hurt Draco, being surrounded by people stronger than him…

But anger and hate sounded like what dark wizards used. Grandpa always said dark wizards let their hate control them, and Harry definitely didn't want that. But what was he passionate about?

Well, that was easy - painting! Nothing made him happier than sitting with his easel, watching his imagination come to life on the canvas.

Harry stood up, remembering how it felt to finish a really good painting. The joy of creating something beautiful, of making exactly what he pictured in his head. He took that feeling, let it fill him up like sunshine, and punched forward.

A stream of orange-red flames burst from his fist, way bigger than before! Harry laughed in delight, immediately trying again. This time he managed to make the flames dance a little before they disappeared.

"This is so cool!" he exclaimed to no one in particular, throwing more fire punches. Each one came easier than the last as he noticed something interesting - the energy only flowed when he moved. Standing still made the power stagnate, but every punch or kick helped guide it along those special paths under his skin.

After a particularly good punch, Harry finally felt it - the energy flowing smoothly from his core, through his arm, and right to that special spot in his palm. It felt natural, like water flowing downhill instead of being pushed.

But after about two minutes of constant practice, Harry had to stop. His arms felt like jelly and he was breathing hard, even though his regular magic felt completely fine. The warm energy pool in his core that had felt so full before was now nearly empty.

Drawing one last deep breath, Harry thrust out his palm. A long burst of orange-red flames shot towards the open sky, way stronger than his previous attempts. The fire felt warm and alive, powered by his passion of creation.

"I should show Grandpa!" Harry exclaimed, bouncing on his toes despite his tired arms. He transformed into his eagle form and took off, riding the warm afternoon thermals up to the Headmaster's Tower.

With a loud screech of greeting, Harry swooped through the open window and landed next to Fawkes on his golden perch. The phoenix trilled back a gentle melody that made Harry's tired muscles feel better instantly. He bobbed his feathered head at Fawkes and made eagle sounds back, pretending they were having a proper conversation.

After a moment, Harry hopped off the perch and changed back to human form, grinning up at Dumbledore who was watching him with twinkling eyes from behind his desk.

"Grandpa! Grandpa! Look what I can do now!" Harry took a quick stance, focusing on his passion for painting, and punched forward. A small burst of flames shot from his fist, carefully aimed away from any of the delicate silver instruments scattered around the office.

"And not just that! I was just at the Covered Bridge and met these three Hufflepuff girls! They helped me with my mist spell - oh! Don't worry, I didn't use it on anyone!" Harry added quickly, seeing Dumbledore's expression change. "I just wanted to practice making shapes with it. Look!"

Harry held up his palm, concentrating for a moment. A ball of grey mist formed quickly, hovering steadily above his hand. "See? I can control it better now! Soon I'll be able to make it look like a dragon or maybe even a nundu! That would be so cool!"

He looked up, ready to tell Grandpa about his plans for combining fire and mist, but stopped short when he saw Dumbledore's shocked expression, mouth slightly open as he stared at Harry's palm.

"Um... is everything okay, Grandpa?"

"Harry," Dumbledore said slowly, standing up from behind his desk. "Where did you learn to create fire?"

Harry smiled widely, still excited. "It just happened! Like my mist and painting! The words showed up in my head and told me about fire-bending and stuff!"

"Words appeared in your head?" Dumbledore walked around his desk, kneeling down to Harry's level. "Like when you learned to create mist?"

"Uh huh! It said something about... um... Cool Powers? And elements and stuff. But fire was the coolest one!" Harry demonstrated with another small flame burst from his palm. "See? And it doesn't even need a wand!"

Dumbledore gently took Harry's hands in his own, examining them carefully. "Does it hurt when you make the fire?"

"Nope! Well, it hurt really bad at first, like burning lines inside me. But now it feels nice and warm!" Harry pulled one hand free to pat his stomach. "The power comes from here, and goes through special paths to my hands and feet!"

"Fascinating," Dumbledore murmured. "And you say this knowledge simply appeared in your mind? Like with your mist ability?"

"Yeah! And my painting too!" Harry nodded enthusiastically. "The words tell me how to do stuff, and then my body just knows how! Like how I know how to fly when I'm an eagle!"

"Harry," Dumbledore said gently, "would you mind looking into my eyes and thinking about when these words appeared? It might help me understand better."

Harry nodded, meeting his Grandpa's bright blue eyes. They always reminded him of sunny days when he could fly really high. He thought hard about the burning lines under his skin and the strange words that had popped into his head.

After a few seconds, Dumbledore sat back on his heels with a puzzled look. "Most peculiar," he muttered, almost like he'd forgotten Harry was there. "No trace of outside influence, no magical residue, not even a hint of how... It's as if the magic simply manifested from nowhere, perfectly formed..."

"Is that bad?" Harry asked, suddenly worried. Had he done something wrong?

"No, not at all," Dumbledore said quickly, his eyes refocusing on Harry. "It's rather remarkable, actually. Though perhaps we should be more careful about when and where you practice your new abilities?"

"But I was careful!" Harry protested. "I made sure no one was around before making the fire, and I only showed the mist to Tonks and her friends 'cause they were helping me learn to control it better!"

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly. "Nymphadora Tonks? Interesting choice of tutor."

"She can change how she looks!" Harry revealed. "Her hair went all different colors and everything! But she said I can't learn that 'cause you have to be born with it." He scrunched up his nose. "That's not fair."

"That's not entirely accurate," Dumbledore said, still looking thoughtful. "Anyone can learn to change their appearance with human transfiguration. It just takes quite a bit of practice and study."

"Really?" Harry whispered. "So I could make my hair different colors too?"

"When you're older, yes." Dumbledore blinked, seeming to come back from his thoughts. "Harry, you mentioned this happened with your painting as well? What exactly occurred then?"

"Oh! Well..." Harry plopped down cross-legged on the floor. "I was really sad about what happened at the Ministry with the bad wizard, and then the words showed up in my head. They asked me to pick what kind of art I wanted to be good at. And I picked painting 'cause it looked fun!"

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. "And these words, they were similar to what you saw today?"

"Kind of. They both had the CP thing, but the painting one was different. It said something about being really really good at art, like only once every hundred years good!" Harry beamed proudly. "That's why my paintings are so pretty now."

"Indeed they are," Dumbledore agreed, but his blue eyes had that far-away look again. "Most remarkable..."

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said, adjusting his half-moon spectacles, "would you promise me something?"

Harry nodded eagerly. He liked making promises to Grandpa - it made him feel grown up.

"Next time these special words appear in your head, come tell me right away. Even if it's during the night or when I'm busy. It's very important."

"But why?" Harry asked, fiddling with the hem of his robes. "Is it bad? The words always give me cool things!"

"No, not bad at all," Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Think of it like... getting a new toy. It's exciting, but sometimes we need to make sure the toy is safe to play with first."

Harry scrunched up his nose. "Like when Uncle Filius checks my painting supplies for dangerous stuff?"

"Exactly like that," Dumbledore reached out to ruffle Harry's messy black hair. "I just want to make sure you're safe. Can you do that for me?"

"Okay!" Harry jumped up, ready to show off more fire tricks, but Dumbledore held up a gentle hand.

"Perhaps we should save the fire practice for tomorrow? When you're less tired?"

Harry wanted to argue, but a big yawn escaped instead. Making fire was harder work than it looked. "Can we practice outside? I wanna try making bigger flames!"

"We'll see," Dumbledore chuckled. "For now, I believe it's almost dinner time. Shall we head down to the Great Hall?"

 

[Evoxius]

3rd​ of June, 1986.

Harry perched on the railing of the Astronomy Tower in his human form, legs swinging as he watched Charlotte Whitewood examine another patch of strange ice that had appeared overnight.

"It's getting bigger," he complained, pointing at how the ice was slowly spreading across the floor. "Can't reach me when I'm flying, but it's super annoying when I want to paint up here!"

Charlotte nodded absently, scribbling something in her notebook. "Thanks for keeping an eye out this past month, Harry. You've been a big help."

Harry beamed at the praise, then brightened further as he spotted a familiar redhead coming up the stairs. "Hi Bill!"

Bill Weasley waved back with an easy smile. "Alright there, Harry?"

"Are you guys gonna make the ice go away?" Harry asked hopefully, swinging his feet faster.

Bill shook his head. "Not exactly. We've got something else to take care of, but it's meant to be a secret."

"Bill," Charlotte interrupted, closing her notebook. "Maybe we should bring Harry along? He could watch from above in his eagle form. The ice can't trap him when he's flying."

"I don't know..." Bill frowned, running a hand through his long hair. "We don't know what we'll find in that place. It could be dangerous."

"But Harry can just fly away if there's trouble, right?" Charlotte pressed. "And having someone keep watch would be smart."

Bill studied Harry for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "I suppose you have a point..."

"What are you talking about?" Harry bounced excitedly on the railing. "What place?"

Charlotte turned to him with a serious expression. "We found it, Harry - the Cursed Vault that's making all this ice appear. We're going to try to open it and stop the curse." Under her breath, she added, "And maybe finally find out what happened to Jacob..."

Harry's first thought was that he should probably tell Aunt Min about this. But... this sounded like a real adventure! And he was much stronger now with his fire and mist powers. Besides, if his instincts warned him someone was too dangerous, he could just fly away and get one of the professors, since Grandpa was away 'researching something very important'.

"I want to help!" Harry declared, hopping down from the railing. "When do we go?"

Charlotte grinned. "Right now, actually. We've got everything ready."

Harry transformed into his eagle form with a quiet pop and fluttered over to Charlotte's shoulder, making her stumble slightly.

"Oof! A bit of warning next time?" she laughed, adjusting to his weight. "You're heavier than you look!"

They made their way down towards the fifth floor, Bill leading the way with his wand lit. As they reached the sixth floor staircase, a girl in Slytherin robes stepped out from behind a suit of armor.

"Well, well. If it isn't the curse-breaker wannabe," the girl sneered, flicking her brown hair. "And what's this? Got yourself a pet bird now, Whitewood? Trying to replace your missing brother with feathered friends?"

Charlotte's face flushed red. "Shut it, Merula. Don't you have better things to do? Like pretending you know something about Jacob when you clearly don't?"

"At least I'm not dragging random animals around the castle," Merula shot back, eyeing the eagle with disdain. "What's next, going to start talking to it about your pathetic curse theories?"

Charlotte's lips curled into a small smile. "You might want to look closer at that 'random animal', Merula. Or did you drink a Forgetfulness Potion? Who else likes to fly around the castle?"

Bill coughed quietly, clearly trying not to laugh as Merula squinted at Harry. Her eyes widened suddenly and she took a step back.

"I... I have better things to do than waste time with you lot," Merula stammered, turning on her heel. As she hurried away, she called back, "Have fun with your bird club, Whitewood!"

"Ugh, she's such a twit," Charlotte grumbled once Merula was gone. "Can't even recognize Harry Potter when he's right in front of her. Come on, we're almost there."

"Wait up!" a cheerful voice called from behind them. Penny Haywood jogged over, waving her hand at them. "What are you all doing here?"

Harry flapped his wings excitedly on Charlotte's shoulder, making a happy eagle sound. He liked Penny - she'd helped him learn to control his mist better last month.

"Hi Penny!" Charlotte beamed. "We were just heading to... um..."

"The Cursed Vault," Bill finished with a shrug. "No point hiding it, she'll find out anyway."

Penny's eyes lit up. "You found it? The one making all the ice appear?" She glanced at Harry perched on Charlotte's shoulder. "But why is Harry with you?"

"He's going to be our lookout," Charlotte explained. "The ice can't trap him when he's flying, so he can warn us if anything goes wrong."

"Absolutely not!" Penny planted her hands on her hips. "He's five years old! You can't take him somewhere that dangerous!"

"But he'll be perfectly safe up in the air," Charlotte argued. "And we need someone to watch our backs."

"He's a child," Penny insisted. "What if something happens? What would Professor McGonagall say?"

Harry let out an indignant screech. He wasn't some baby who needed protecting! He could make scary mist and shoot fire now!

"Look," Bill said carefully, "I know it seems risky, but Harry's smarter than most kids his age. And he really will be safer than any of us - he can fly away the moment there's trouble."

Penny frowned, clearly torn. "Then I'm coming too. Someone needs to keep an eye on all of you."

"The more the merrier?" Charlotte offered with a hopeful smile.

"Fine," Penny sighed. "But if anything happens to Harry, I'm telling Professor McGonagall exactly whose idea this was."

Harry puffed up his feathers proudly as they made their way to the Icy Corridor. The three students pulled out their wands, casting "Incendio!" at the patches of ice blocking their path. The ice melted slowly, creating puddles on the stone floor.

"See that, Harry?" Charlotte pointed at how the ice seemed to resist the spell slightly before melting. "This cursed ice is really weird. It learns to fight back against spells we use too much. We used to be able to break it with Flipendo, but that stopped working."

Harry made a curious chirping sound from her shoulder.

"Oh, and don't touch it!" Charlotte added quickly. "The ice makes people become very confused. Makes their memories all funny too."

They kept moving forward, melting ice as they went. After what felt like forever to Harry, they stopped in front of a plain stone wall.

Charlotte raised her wand. "Revelio!"

The wall disappeared, showing misty stairs leading upward. The fog was so thick Harry could barely see through it.

"Harry should probably start flying now," Penny said, biting her lip. "Just to be safe."

When the others nodded, Harry took off from Charlotte's shoulder. Flying in such a tight space wasn't easy - he had to keep circling back and forth to stay airborne. His new stronger body helped a lot though. Before the firebending, his wings would have gotten tired much faster.

They climbed the stairs and exited the mist straight into another corridor. Everyone groaned at the sight of more ice. The students raised their wands again.

"Incendio!" Three voices called out together. Nothing happened.

"Merlin's saggy pants!" Charlotte burst out. "It can't be..."

"The ice is immune to the Fire-Making Spell now," Bill sighed deeply. "Either of you know any stronger fire spells?"

Both girls shook their heads.

Harry flew down in front of them, changing back to human form with a big grin. "I can do it!"

Charlotte and Bill exchanged skeptical looks while Penny gave him a gentle smile. "That's sweet Harry, but your mist spell won't help here. We need real fire to melt this ice."

"No, no! Watch!" Harry took a quick stance, remembering how it felt to paint something really pretty, and punched forward. A burst of orange flames shot from his fist, much bigger than the students' Incendio spells had been.

The ice actually sizzled where his flames hit it, starting to melt at the edges.

"Bloody hell!" Bill yelped, jumping back. "Since when can you do that?"

"Language!" Penny scolded automatically, but she was staring at Harry with wide eyes.

"Since last month!" Harry beamed proudly. "It's called firebending! I can make lots of fire without a wand!" He demonstrated with another flame punch, melting more ice.

"Not the Boy-Who-Lived for nothing, I guess," Charlotte muttered, watching the ice melt faster than any spell they'd tried.

Harry grinned and bounced on his toes. "Watch this!" He jumped up, spinning in mid-air to kick downward. A wave of orange flames swept across the floor, clearing a path through the cursed ice.

"That's incredible," Bill said, scratching his head. "But why is it working better than our spells? Fire is fire, isn't it? The cursed ice adapted to resist Incendio..."

"Maybe because it's wandless?" Penny suggested, but she didn't sound convinced.

They made their way down the cleared corridor, Harry occasionally sending out bursts of flame to melt any ice blocking their path. Soon they reached a massive door covered in frost, with an enormous snowflake pattern carved into its surface.

"Here goes!" Harry took a deep breath and leaped up, kicking out toward the door. A stream of fire shot from his foot, melting the ice completely. The door swung open with a loud creak.

Before anyone could look inside, two huge suits of armor burst through the doorway. Ice covered their metal bodies, and they drew sharp-looking swords out of worn leather sheaths.

"Everyone back!" Charlotte shouted, raising her wand. "Start casting! Flipendo!"

Harry stepped back carefully, eyeing the armored constructs. His instincts told they were more powerful than him, and those swords looked really sharp. If one of them managed to hit him, it would be really bad. Better to stay away and let the older kids handle it.

"Reducto!" Bill called out, blue light crashing into one suit's chest and creating a big dent.

"Immobulus!" Penny's spell hit the other construct's leg, slowing it briefly.

Charlotte kept shouting spells and directions, but the ice-covered knights were getting closer. One swung its sword at Bill, who barely managed to dodge. The other advanced on Penny and Charlotte, forcing them back step by step.

"They're too strong together!" Charlotte yelled, casting another Flipendo that just bounced off the icy armor. "We need to-"

A horrible sound of metal striking flesh cut through the air. Bill let out a cry of pain as one of the swords caught his shoulder, sending him crashing to the floor. The knight raised its weapon again, ready to strike.

"No!" Charlotte screamed. "Arresto Momentum!"

The sword froze mid-swing, but Harry could tell the spell wouldn't hold long. His heart was beating really fast as he watched from the back of the group. His special sense was screaming that these things could kill him if he got too close.

But seeing Bill on the ground, bleeding... it reminded Harry of Draco at the Ministry. How the other boy had gotten hurt because of him, and now had that awful cough that wouldn't go away…

No. He wouldn't let someone else get hurt when he could do something about it.

Harry transformed into his eagle form and shot upward, using his new stronger muscles to climb fast. Right above the knight threatening Bill, he changed back to human. For a split second he hung in the air, then brought his leg down in a powerful kick. Fire exploded from his foot, way bigger than before - maybe because he was so scared and angry at the same time.

The flames crashed into the suit of armor. Harry was already transforming back to eagle form, wings spreading to carry him away from danger. He landed next to Penny and changed human again, watching as the ice melted off the first knight. Without the cursed ice covering it, the armor fell apart with a loud clatter.

"Harry, that was brilliant!" Charlotte shouted. "Quick, we need you to do it again! Penny, help me slow the other one down!"

"Immobulus!"

"Impedimenta!"

The second knight stumbled as both spells hit it at once, giving Harry the opening he needed.

Harry took a deep breath and jumped high, flames trailing from his hands as he spun through the air. This time he aimed both palms at the knight's chest, letting his fire pour out in a massive burst. The ice coating the armor melted instantly, steam hissing into the air. Like its partner, the second suit of armor crashed to the ground in pieces.

"Bill!" Penny rushed over to where the older boy lay clutching his shoulder. "How bad is it?"

"Not too deep," Bill winced, letting her examine the cut. "But it stings something fierce."

"I can fix this," Penny pulled out a small green bottle from her robes. "It's a Wiggenweld potion - should stop the bleeding at least."

Harry bounced from foot to foot nearby, still buzzing with leftover energy from the fight. "Are you gonna be okay? Those knights were really dangerous!"

"Thanks to you, mate," Bill managed a smile despite the pain. "That was some impressive flying and fire work."

"Drink this," Penny held the green bottle to Bill's lips. "All of it."

Bill gulped down the potion, making a face at the taste. After a few seconds, the cut on his shoulder started closing up. "Much better. Thanks Penny."

"Can we go in now?" Harry asked, peering through the doorway.

Charlotte nodded, but held up her hand. "Everyone stay close together. We don't know what else might be in there."

They walked into the vault carefully. Harry looked around, a bit disappointed. It was just a small round room with stone walls. He'd expected something more... impressive. There wasn't even any ice, which seemed weird for a place called the Vault of Ice.

Four suits of armor stood in little spaces in the walls. Everyone froze when they saw them, but these knights didn't move at all. They just stood there, looking dusty and old.

"Look!" Charlotte suddenly ran forward, pointing at something weird growing out of the middle of the floor. It was glowing golden, like the light of the sun. Floating above it was a broken wand and an old notebook with torn pages.

Charlotte's face went white. "That's... that's Jacob's wand! And his notebook!" She reached for them with shaking hands. "He was here. He really did find the vault..."

"Who's Jacob?" Harry whispered to Penny while Charlotte carefully picked up the broken wand.

"Her brother," Penny whispered back. "He mysteriously disappeared after he was expelled from Hogwarts because of the Cursed Vaults. Nobody knows what happened to him."

Harry opened his mouth to ask another question, but suddenly froze as his green eyes darkened. At first, his heart leapt with excitement - was he going to get another cool spell like his firebending or fear-mist? But as he actually read what was being offered, his stomach turned unpleasantly.

[Zombie Physiology - Marvel Zombies] – Free, 200CP left

You are a zombie. That comes with its benefits and its downsides. You retain your intellect and have a choice of what kind of zombie you are. There are a lot of variants, but we're cutting it down to just the originals for brevity's sake. The classic Marvel Zombies. The disciples of the Hunger Gospel, you could say. You're a bona fide zombie, save for your intelligence. While you're necrotic and always hungry now, you're now functionally immortal. You don't even feel pain anymore (save for some very rare, very unusual cases). Being undead makes it so that you can't age anymore. Most wounds, including dismemberment and decapitation aren't lethal anymore - it'd take the destruction of your brain to do you in for real. Breathing isn't much of an issue, either. The only problem is that you're really, really hungry all the time. Also your lips have disappeared and you've got a very toothy, skull-like face now. All the better to eat with.

"Son of a banshee," Harry muttered under his breath, having picked up the phrase from older students. His stomach felt all twisty as he read about becoming a zombie. Being able to survive getting hurt sounded kind of cool, but... no lips? And being hungry all the time?

He remembered how Stupid Snape had scared him with stories about Inferi in the dungeons. Even though Aunt Min had yelled at Snape and promised there weren't any dark creatures in the castle, Harry still had nightmares sometimes about rotting hands grabbing him in the dark.

Plus, zombies were gross! They were all falling apart and smelly, like those pictures in the Defense Against the Dark Arts books. And eating people? Yuck! Even when he was an eagle and caught prey on the rare occasion he was hungry, he tried to be quick about it. He didn't want to be some scary monster that made other kids have nightmares.

And what would Grandpa say if Harry turned into a zombie? Or Aunt Min and Uncle Filius? They'd be so disappointed. He was going to be a proper wizard, with cool fire powers and scary mist - not some brain-eating creature from those horror stories the older students whispered about!

No way was he accepting this one. The moment Harry firmly decided to reject the offer, he felt it fade away like smoke in the wind, and he let out a relieved breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Harry turned his attention back to the others. They were huddled around Jacob's notebook, carefully examining the torn pages.

"Look at these notes," Bill was saying, pointing at something Harry couldn't see. "These must be clues about the other Vaults. We'll need to study them carefully..."

 

[Evoxius]

Harry Potter starts with 3 free rolls.

Every 4000 6000 8000 words he gains 100cp, and the Celestial Grimoire is triggered. Perks can be rejected. This is done this way because I've noticed that doing it every 1000 or 2000 words is way too fast, and things go out of control in terms of power balance. I also have plans to increase the number of words needed even more in the future if I feel it is needed.

Current word total: 74944
Next opportunity: 82000
Current cp: 50

Since the Grimoire was granted to him at a young age, rather than to someone with an already mature personality, the perks given will influence his personality. For example, Ironclaw Cunning has a major effect on him because a toddler is not meant to possess such knowledge/instincts at their age. This can be seen in chapter 2 with how he acts.

---

Perks:

1. Harry can tell whether he can defeat someone or not, will never underestimate opponents, and knows when to back off. Moderately increases Battle IQ. (Ironclaw Cunning - MtG Homelands)
2. Harry can transform into a Golden Eagle. (Animagus - Harry Potter)
3. Harry can survive on very little food. One or two good meals a week is enough. (Nutrition - The Witcher Novels)
4. Harry can convert magical energy into a panic-inducing fog that can cause people to see images of their phobia if it's thick enough. (Mist: Phobia - Final Fantasy IX)
   1. Discovered: When cast upon fear-feeding spiritual entities, there's a chance for a recursive feedback loop.
   2. Discovered: Mist seems to be made out of a combination of magical energy and the power of the soul.
   3. Discovered: Deep emotional resonance can darken the mist and make it more potent. Rare chance, requires Harry to really lose himself in fear.
5. Harry has world-class Painting Talent. Moderately increases ease of learning, using and casting magical spells and abilities related to the act of Painting/Drawing. (Once Every Century - Fate/Legends - Empires of Antiquity)
6. Harry has chi pathways, minorly increased strength, agility and balance, and can bend fire. Instinctual knowledge will guide him on how to train the common firebending abilities. (Bending Arts (Firebending) - Avatar: The Last Airbender)
   1. Discovered: Harry chose passion for painting as his source for firebending. This gives him greater control and stability. If he were to power it with anger, it becomes more powerful but less controllable.
   2. Discovered: Pooling chi at exit points (hands, feet) can solidify fire and give it concussive force.
   3. Discovered: The Po Soul has refined his chi paths, allowing for a smooth and controlled flow of chi at all times, thus causing blue flames to be born. NEW: The Po Soul is Yin. The Yin-refined chi paths balance out the Yang nature of fire to form a stronger whole: blue flames.
   4. Discovered: Through understanding multiple philosophical frameworks simultaneously, Harry can create a perfect sphere of silver-white quintessential flame that neither consumes chi nor produces shadow. Its true properties are yet unknown.
      1. NIGREDO Phase: Through letting the unstable silver-white flame sphere naturally dissipate, a black sphere is formed that can take in energy (magic included) and burn it back to its origin.
      2. ALBEDO Phase: Unknown how to achieve
      3. CITRINITAS Phase: Unknown how to achieve
      4. RUBEDO Phase: Unknown how to achieve
      5. ??? Phase: Unknown how to achieve or whether there are further phases.
7. Harry has a soul-bound journal that he can store in his soul and only he can read. It will write down his adventures, and occasionally point out new adventures and vital clues on where to go next. (The Hero's Journey - A Mage Of Sorothustra)
   1. Enchantments applied to the Hero's Journal from the Perk (Enchanted Gear - The Elder Scrolls: Dovah):
      1. Poison Resistance 100%
      2. Disease Resistance 100%
      3. Magic Resistance 20%
      4. Fortify Skill in Alchemy by 50%
   2. Discovered: The Hun Soul has evolved the Hero's Journal beyond a mere enchanted item into an innate treasure capable of giving him the hints directly instead of merely writing it down. Innate Treasure lives in his Hun Soul, though a representation can be manifested into the physical world.
   3. Discovered: Innate Treasure Hero's Journal has merged the additional enchantments from the Enchanted Gear perk directly into his Hun and Po souls, thus becoming intrinsically part of his being.
8. Harry can devour dragon hearts to gain new powers/abilities based on whose heart he consumes. (Devouring the Heart - Elden Ring - Limgrave)
9. Harry has enhanced intelligence and perfect memory (non-retroactive), which gives him a 3X learning speed. (Depths of the Mind - Magic The Gathering - Iconics)
   1. All talents have been enhanced by 1.1X (Natural Talent - Fist of the North Star)
10. Harry's soul has been transformed into two parts. Hun (ethereal/yang) and Po (dense/yin). The Hun is tied to the mind and exists independently of the body. The Po is tied to the body. (Three Hun and Seven Po - Chinese Mythology)
    1. Hun Soul means Harry's mind is no longer affected by the ills and failings of his body. Thus Harry will not be mentally impaired by hunger, pain and such things.
    2. Po Soul means Harry's body is now maintaining his physical vessel in its prime condition, barring interference of outside forces. Thus he does not need to exercise to maintain his body at the same level.
11. Harry gets an Elixir of Life every ten years that returns someone to the prime of their life, and making them immune to the passing of time and disease. Next Elixir: 1997 August
    1. First Elixir of Life was given to Albus Dumbledore on August 1987. He accepts the potion after the initial rejection to analyse it together with Nicolas Flamel.
12. Harry can learn to understand, speak and read any language if he has heard people speak and seen its words in hours. If someone speaks to him in an unknown language, he can guess the general meaning. He can easily create his own language or decryption if he wants to. (Language Comprehension - Mushoku Tensei)
    1. Learned languages: English, French, Latin, Ancient Greek, Chinese
    2. Discovered: Harry doesn't just learn languages, but absorbs their entire cultural worldviews and philosophical frameworks simultaneously, allowing him to understand concepts from multiple perspectives at once.
13. Harry now has access to the collective faith from people that have directed their hopes and praise towards his person (Boy-Who-Lived). His Hun Soul acts as a lens to make it into divine energy, and his Po Soul anchors him so he doesn't lose himself in the faith.
    1. Harry can unleash a wave of divine energy that heals himself and those nearby (Soothing Sunlight - Dark Souls: Covenants)

 

[Evoxius]

Harry shuffled his feet and peered around the others at the notebook. He couldn't read most of the big words anyway, and now that the excitement was over, he was getting antsy.

"Can we go see if the ice is gone now?" he asked, tugging at Charlotte's sleeve. "Please?"

Bill chuckled and carefully tucked the notebook away. "Good thinking, Harry. We should check if breaking the vault actually worked."

They made their way back through the vault entrance, Harry skipping ahead eagerly. The corridor outside was completely clear - not a single patch of ice remained where before it had covered almost everything.

"It worked!" Penny clapped her hands together. "Look, even the frost on the walls is gone!"

They hurried down the misty stairs and through the Icy Corridor, finding every trace of cursed ice had vanished as if it had never been there.

"We did it!" Charlotte whooped, throwing her arms around Harry and lifting him off his feet in a spin. "And it's all thanks to our tiny fire wizard here! Without you, those knights would've carved us up like Christmas turkeys!"

Harry giggled as she set him down, pleased with the praise. "It was fun! Except for when Bill got hurt. That was scary."

"Speaking of which," Penny crossed her arms, "we should get that shoulder looked at properly, Bill. The potion helped, but Madam Pomfrey should still check it."

Bill nodded, then ruffled Harry's messy hair. "Thanks again, mate. You really saved our skins back there."

"No problem! Thank you all for letting me help!" Harry looked at them with big wide green eyes. "If you find more Vaults, can I come too? I promise I'll be super careful!"

Charlotte laughed and shared a look with the others. "We'll see, little hero. But first we need to figure out what these notes mean."

After they parted ways, Harry transformed into his eagle form with a quiet pop. His wings spread wide as he took off, soaring through the castle corridors. Grandpa had told him to come straight away whenever those special words showed up in his head, and Harry wasn't about to forget.

He swooped through the Grand Staircase, letting out sharp cries that made several students jump. One Ravenclaw even dropped his book bag, papers scattering everywhere. Harry let out what could only be described as an eagle's laugh before flying out through the castle's main doors.

The afternoon sun warmed his feathers as he circled up to the Headmaster's Tower. Finding the window open as usual, Harry glided in and landed on the back of his favorite chair. The office was empty, but moments later a burst of flames announced the arrival of Fawkes and Grandpa.

Harry changed back to human form so fast he almost fell off the chair. "Grandpa! Guess what? All the cursed ice is gone! Every single bit!"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he settled behind his desk. "Is that so? And would you happen to know anything about how that came to be?"

"Well..." Harry squirmed a bit in his seat. "Me and Charlotte and Bill and Penny found this ice vault thing, and there were these scary knights, but I helped beat them with my fire! And then we found a broken wand and some papers and when we left all the ice was gone!"

"Also," Harry added, bouncing slightly in his seat, "those special words showed up in my head again! But don't worry, I said no 'cause it wanted to make me all gross like a zombie!"

"I see," Dumbledore said, though his eyes had lost their usual twinkle. "And this adventure you mentioned - were you hurt at all?"

Harry shook his head quickly. "Nope! Bill got a cut from one of the ice knights, but Penny had this green potion that fixed him up. I was super careful and stayed flying most of the time. Only came down when I needed to use my fire to help!"

"That's... good," Dumbledore said distractedly, clearly more concerned about something else. He leaned forward in his chair. "Harry, about these words - I need you to tell me exactly what they said. Try to remember every detail."

"Well..." Harry swung his legs, looking up at the ceiling. "It was called... Zombie Phy-si-ol-ogy from Marvel Zombies. And it said I could pick what kind of zombie I wanted to be, but only from the original ones. Something about being a... disciple of Hunger Gospel?"

Harry wrinkled his nose. "It said I'd keep my brain working right, but I'd be all dead and gross. And I wouldn't feel pain anymore, which sounded kind of cool I guess. But then it said I couldn't die unless someone smashed my head, and even if someone cut off my arms or head, I'd be fine!"

He shuddered. "But the worst part was that it said I'd be super hungry ALL the time, and my face would look like a skull 'cause my lips would disappear! That's so yucky! And it was free, but I still said no 'cause I don't want to be a monster."

Dumbledore knelt in front of Harry's chair, his blue eyes serious behind his half-moon glasses. "Harry, if those special words ever offer you something like that again - something that would change what you are in such a manner - I want you to reject it right away. It might even make you lose your magic. No more mist, no more fire, and no more special painting magic in the future. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he imagined not being able to control his fear mist anymore, create warm flames when he was cold or learning painting magic. Small tears welled up in his green eyes as he shook his head frantically. "No! I don't want to lose my magic!"

"Come here," Dumbledore opened his arms, and Harry practically jumped into the hug, sniffling slightly. "You did very, very well rejecting that offer. I'm proud of you."

After a long moment, Dumbledore let out a deep sigh and gently ended the hug. "Harry, I think it's time I taught you something. Something very important."

Harry perked up immediately, tears forgotten. "What is it? Is it a spell?"

"Not exactly," Dumbledore smiled. "It's called Occlumency."

"Ock-lu... what?" Harry scrunched up his face, trying to wrap his tongue around the strange word. "What's that?"

"It's a way to protect your mind," Dumbledore explained, settling back in his chair. "Like building a wall around your thoughts to keep them safe."

Harry's eyes went wide. "Can people look at my thoughts? Is that how you always know when I sneak out to the astronomy tower after curfew?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "No, that's because the portraits report to me. But yes, there are wizards who can look into other people's minds if they try hard enough."

"That's not fair!" Harry crossed his arms with a pout. "They shouldn't be allowed to peek at my thoughts. Those are mine!"

"Exactly right," Dumbledore nodded. "That's why I want to teach you how to keep your thoughts private. Especially with these special words that keep appearing in your head. We need to make sure no one else can see them."

"Will it help keep the zombie words away too?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said. "At the very least, it will help you understand your own mind better. Would you like to learn?"

Harry nodded eagerly. Any new magic was exciting, even if it wasn't as cool as throwing fireballs. "Yes please! When do we start?"

"But first, dinner," Dumbledore smiled, getting up from his chair. "I imagine you're quite hungry after all that excitement today."

Harry shook his head. "Not really. My tummy's okay."

"Even so, let's head down. And Harry?" Dumbledore's voice turned serious for a moment. "Try not to look directly into the eyes of adult wizards you don't know well. The eyes can be a pathway for those who read minds to see your thoughts."

"Like a window?" Harry scrunched up his nose. "That's not very nice of them."

"Indeed it isn't," Dumbledore chuckled as they walked down the spiral staircase. "Just be careful, alright?"

Harry nodded, skipping every other step on their way to the Great Hall. When they reached the teachers' table, he slid into his special seat between Dumbledore and Uncle Filius.

"Hi Uncle Filius! Hi Aunt Min!" Harry waved cheerfully at the other teachers, purposefully keeping his eyes away from the scowling Potions Master at the far end.

"Good evening, Harry," McGonagall smiled warmly. "You seem rather energetic tonight."

Harry beamed and looked out at the four long house tables, spotting his friends scattered among the students. He waved enthusiastically at Charlotte, Bill, Penny, Tonks and Chiara, who all waved back.

While the other teachers filled their plates, Harry just sat quietly, listening to their conversations about classes and assignments. He didn't feel hungry at all - probably because of that mouse he ate recently.

Suddenly, Dumbledore stood up and walked to his golden owl podium. The Great Hall gradually fell silent as students noticed him waiting.

"Good evening, everyone," Dumbledore smiled gently. "I have wonderful news to share. As you all know, our castle has been plagued by mysterious cursed ice these past two years. This ice proved particularly troublesome, adapting to resist even our strongest spells."

He paused, eyes twinkling. "However, thanks to the bravery of several students, this curse has finally been broken. The ice has vanished completely from our halls."

Excited whispers broke out across the tables.

"To Miss Charlotte Whitewood, for your determination in solving this mystery - 150 points to Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers.

"To Mr. Bill Weasley, for defending your fellow students even at personal risk - 150 points to Gryffindor!"

More whooping from the red and gold table.

"To Miss Penny Haywood, for quick thinking and excellent use of healing potions - 150 points to Hufflepuff!"

The Hufflepuff table burst into applause.

"And finally," Dumbledore's eyes crinkled with warmth, "while we cannot award house points to young Mr. Potter, I must thank him for his crucial role in saving his companions when they needed him most."

The hall exploded with excited chatter. Harry shrunk down in his seat a bit as hundreds of eyes turned toward the teachers' table, his cheeks turning pink. The attention felt different this time. Usually when people stared at him, it was because of something he couldn't even remember doing as a baby. But this time, Harry knew exactly why they were looking at him - because he'd actually helped stop those scary ice knights, saved Bill and stopped the cursed ice.

"Harry," Flitwick spoke quietly beside him, his voice unusually serious. "Did those students pressure you into going with them? You know better than to go into dangerous places."

Harry shook his head quickly. "No! I wanted to help! The ice was being super annoying and kept getting in the way when I wanted to paint at the tower."

"That is not a good reason to put yourself in harm's way," Aunt Min cut in sharply from Dumbledore's other side. Her lips were pressed into a thin line that Harry recognized as her worried-and-trying-not-to-show-it face.

"But I was careful!" Harry protested. "I stayed up high most of the time, and only came down when Bill got hurt and needed help!"

"William Weasley got hurt?" Sprout asked, leaning forward with concern. "Perhaps we should send him to the Hospital Wing to be checked properly."

Flitwick was still frowning, reaching over to check Harry for injuries. "Are you certain you're not hurt anywhere? No scratches or bruises?"

"I'm fine!" Harry squirmed away from Flitwick's fussing hands. "Really! The icy knights couldn't reach me when I was flying, and my fire worked way better than their spells did!"

That turned out to be the wrong thing to say. Multiple heads snapped toward him so fast Harry worried they might hurt their necks.

"Your what?" McGonagall asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

Harry gulped. Maybe he should have kept that part secret for a bit longer.

Dumbledore cleared his throat softly. "Perhaps this discussion would be better continued after dinner? In my office?"

The other professors nodded reluctantly, though they kept shooting concerned glances at Harry throughout the meal. Harry picked at his food, not really hungry but knowing Aunt Min would worry more if he didn't eat anything.

He had a feeling this was going to be a very long evening.

 

[Evoxius]

The Great Hall slowly emptied as dinner came to an end. Professor Sprout stood up, brushing crumbs from her robes. "I'll go check on young William, make sure he doesn't need Poppy's attention."

Harry watched her leave, then turned to see Aunt Min and Uncle Filius waiting expectantly. With a small sigh, he hopped down from his seat and followed them and Grandpa up to the familiar office.

The walk felt longer than usual, especially since he usually flew up to the tower. When they finally reached the office, Harry settled into his usual chair while Aunt Min and Uncle Filius took seats facing Dumbledore's desk.

"Now then," McGonagall's Scottish brogue was more pronounced, a sure sign she was worried. "What's this about fire, Harry?"

"Indeed," Flitwick added seriously. "Fire magic is extremely dangerous, especially without proper training."

Before Harry could answer, Dumbledore raised a gentle hand. "Perhaps I can explain. Harry has shown a remarkable aptitude for wandless magic recently. It seems he's developed the ability to create and control flames."

Harry relaxed slightly, grateful for Grandpa's intervention. When Dumbledore nodded encouragingly at him, Harry held out his right palm. A small flame sprouted above it, dancing merrily in the air.

McGonagall leaned forward, her stern expression softening into concern. "It's not hurting you?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "It feels warm and nice. Like when I'm painting and everything just flows right."

Flitwick circled Harry's chair, examining the flame from different angles. "Fascinating. The control is remarkable for one so young. But Harry, you must promise to be very careful with this ability. Fire can be dangerous."

"I know," Harry said earnestly. "I only use it against someone… or something that wants to hurt me, like today with the ice knights. And I practice lots to make sure I don't burn anything I don't mean to."

"You've been practicing?" McGonagall's eyebrows shot up. "Where? When?"

"Well..." Harry squirmed in his seat, glancing between the professors. "Just out on the grounds... And I had Grandpa watching me the first couple times!"

Dumbledore gave Harry an exaggerated look of betrayal, holding his hand against his heart. "Throwing me to the wolves already, Harry?"

McGonagall turned her stern gaze on the Headmaster. "Albus! You knew about this and didn't inform us?"

"I assure you, Minerva, I kept a close eye on Harry's practice sessions. The ability manifested quite recently, and I wanted to understand its nature before causing undue concern," Dumbledore explained calmly.

"Undue concern?" Flitwick squeaked. "Such a young child wielding wandless fire magic is absolutely due cause for concern!"

Harry made the flame dance between his fingers, trying to show how well he could control it. "But I'm really careful! Look, I can make it smaller than a candle or bigger than a torch. And I haven't burned anything I didn't mean to since I first got it!"

"That's not the point, Harry," McGonagall sighed, rubbing her temples. "We're responsible for keeping you safe. How can we do that if we don't know what abilities you're developing?"

"But I did tell Grandpa!" Harry protested, letting the flame fade away. "And he helped me practice so I wouldn't hurt myself or anyone else."

"Perhaps we should focus on establishing some ground rules," Dumbledore suggested mildly. "Harry has shown remarkable control over both his mist and fire abilities. What he needs now is guidance, not restrictions."

Flitwick nodded slowly. "Yes... yes, that makes sense. Harry, would you be willing to practice with me sometimes? We could work on precision exercises."

Harry perked up immediately. "Really? That would be amazing! Can we start tomorrow?"

"Not so fast," McGonagall cut in. "First, we need to discuss safety measures. No practicing inside Hogwarts without supervision. And absolutely no using this fire against other students."

"Unless they're trying to hurt me," Harry amended quickly. "Like those big Slytherins did that time."

The professors exchanged glances at that reminder.

"Only if they're truly trying to harm you," McGonagall said firmly. "If someone's just being mean or playing pranks, you need to come straight to one of us instead."

"But what if-"

"No buts," Flitwick interrupted gently. "Your magic is powerful, Harry. We don't want any accidents happening because someone annoyed you."

Harry slumped in his chair. "Fine. But can I still practice with you tomorrow?"

"After your lessons with me," Flitwick agreed. "We'll start small - perhaps with candle-sized flames."

"I think that's enough rules for one evening," Dumbledore said, glancing at the darkening sky outside. "I still need to discuss something else with Harry, if you wouldn't mind..."

McGonagall stood, though she looked reluctant to leave. "Very well. Harry, remember what we discussed. No unsupervised practice."

"Yes, Aunt Min," Harry nodded, watching as she and Flitwick left the office.

Once the door closed behind them, Dumbledore turned to Harry with a more serious expression. "Now then, about those Occlumency lessons we discussed earlier..."

Harry's bright green eyes suddenly darkened and glazed over, his small body going still. Dumbledore stopped mid-sentence, instantly alert.

[The Hero's Journal - A Mage Of Sorothustra] – 100CP, 200CP left

This is a simple, handy enchanted item. This journal is bound to your soul and is perpetually scribbling down your journey from your perspective, with an occasional perspective shift to some omnipresent narrator who knows more than you do and occasionally dispenses some wisdom. If you read this journal and study it you will learn of new adventures you could go on, as well as, from time to time, gain a vital clue regarding where to go next.

After a few seconds, Harry blinked rapidly and shook his head. "The special words came again, Grandpa!"

"What did they say this time?" Dumbledore asked gently, though his eyes were sharp with concern.

"It was called The Hero's Journal from something called A Mage Of Soro... Soroth..." Harry struggled with the word.

"Take your time," Dumbledore encouraged.

"Sorothustra!" Harry finally managed. "It said it would cost 100CP, and I'd have 200 left. The journal would write down everything that happens to me, and sometimes tell me about new adventures I could go on! And it said there'd be hints about where to go next when I need them."

"I see," Dumbledore leaned back, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Did you accept this offer?"

Harry shook his head. "Not yet. I wanted to ask you first, since you said to tell you right away when the words showed up."

"Very wise of you," Dumbledore smiled. "This one sounds less dangerous than the zombie offer, at least. A magical journal that records your adventures and provides guidance... What do you think about it?"

"Well..." Harry kicked his feet, thinking it over. "It might be nice to read about what happened today with the vault. And maybe it could help us find more of them! But..." he hesitated, "what if it writes down stuff I want to keep secret?"

"That's a good question," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps we should think about what this journal might do. Would you mind if I wrote down exactly what those special words told you?"

Harry nodded, and watched as Dumbledore pulled out a piece of parchment. He carefully repeated the words: "The Hero's Journal - A Mage Of Sorothustra. 100CP, 200CP left. This is a simple, handy enchanted item. This journal is bound to your soul and is perpetually scribbling down your journey from your perspective, with an occasional perspective shift to some omnipresent narrator who knows more than you do and occasionally dispenses some wisdom. If you read this journal and study it you will learn of new adventures you could go on, as well as, from time to time, gain a vital clue regarding where to go next."

"It says it's bound to your soul," Dumbledore noted. "That likely means only you could read it."

Harry perked up at that. "So nobody else could see my secrets?"

"That would make sense," Dumbledore agreed. "And it might be useful to have a record of these special abilities as they appear."

Harry thought about it. A magical book that could help him find adventures and keep his secrets safe did sound pretty good. And unlike the zombie thing, this wouldn't change him into something scary.

"Could I try accepting it?" Harry asked. "If it turns out bad, I promise I'll tell you right away."

Dumbledore studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. But be careful, and let me know immediately if anything feels wrong."

Harry closed his eyes and thought about accepting the journal. There was a brief warm feeling in his chest, and suddenly a leather-bound book appeared in his lap. It wasn't very big, just the right size for his small hands, with a simple golden clasp.

"It worked!" Harry exclaimed, carefully opening the journal. The pages were filled with neat writing, describing everything from his early days at Hogwarts up to their current conversation. "Look, it's already writing about us!"

"Fascinating," Dumbledore leaned forward to look, but the words seemed to blur when he tried to focus on them. "Ah, it seems I cannot read it after all. What does it say about our conversation?"

Harry skimmed the latest page. "It's talking about how we're discussing the journal right now. And..." his eyes widened. "It says there's another cursed vault hidden somewhere in the castle! But this one's got something to do with... fear? That's weird."

Dumbledore straightened in his chair. "Another vault? Perhaps we should keep that information between us for now. The last thing we need is more students attempting dangerous explorations."

Harry nodded, still flipping through the pages. The writing seemed to flow across the paper like water, recording their conversation as it happened. He noticed some parts were written differently, like someone else was telling the story.

"Grandpa, look at this!" Harry paused, then remembered Dumbledore couldn't actually see the words. "I mean, there's parts in here that talk about stuff I didn't even know about. Like it says Charlotte's been having nightmares about her missing brother."

"That's quite interesting," Dumbledore said carefully. "Though perhaps we should be cautious about information the journal reveals about other people."

Harry shut the book with a snap. "You're right. It feels kind of wrong reading about other people's secrets." He yawned suddenly, the day's excitement catching up with him. "Can we start the mind-protecting lessons tomorrow? I'm getting sleepy."

Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Of course. It's been quite an eventful day. Shall I walk you back to your room?"

Harry shook his head. "No thanks, I can fly back! It's faster and more fun."

He glanced down at the journal in his hands, wondering where he should keep it, when a sudden understanding bloomed in his mind. Harry concentrated for a moment, and the leather-bound book dissolved into sparkling golden lights that flowed into his chest.

"Whoa!" Harry looked up at Dumbledore with wide eyes. "Did you see that? I just knew how to do it, like how I knew how to make my mist!"

Dumbledore leaned forward, intrigued. "And you can bring it back whenever you wish?"

"Yeah! Watch!" Harry held out his hands, and the journal appeared between them in a shower of golden sparks. "It's like... it's part of me now. That's what it meant by being bound to my soul, I think."

"Most remarkable," Dumbledore said. "Though perhaps save the demonstrations for tomorrow. You look about ready to fall asleep in that chair."

Harry nodded, letting the journal vanish again. He transformed into his eagle form with a quiet pop and glided to the window ledge. Before taking off, he turned his head back toward Dumbledore and let out a cheerful chirp.

"Goodnight, Harry," Dumbledore called as the golden eagle launched itself into the evening air. "And do try to stay out of trouble tomorrow!"

oo0ooOoo0oo​

Rate of CP gain is still too fast for my liking, so I'll be changing it from 4000 words to 6000 words for 100CP. It's a bit annoying to have to derail current events every 2 chapters because something new popped up. I'll probably increase it even more if it's still getting too much in the way of the story. Aside from that, I'll not include many more scenes of Harry discussing 'offers' with Dumbledore unless it's something disastrous like the Zombie Physiology from Marvel Zombies. Basically, anything that is a big negative in Harry's mind, which shouldn't pop up that often.