Young Celestial Wizard [Celestial Grimoire, Harry Potter]

[Evoxius]

The next morning, Harry sat cross-legged on a cushy purple pillow in Dumbledore's office, trying his very best not to fidget.

"Now Harry," Dumbledore said, sitting across from him on another pillow, "protecting your mind is a bit like building a castle. But before we can build anything, we need to clear the ground. Do you understand?"

Harry scrunched up his nose. "Sort of? Like when I want to paint something new, I need a clean paper first?"

"Exactly!" Dumbledore beamed. "Today, we're going to practice making our minds clean and empty, like a fresh piece of parchment."

"That sounds boring," Harry complained, already starting to wiggle.

"Ah, but it's actually a game!" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he pulled out what looked like a silver bracelet. "This magical bracelet will help us play. When your mind is nice and quiet, it glows green. If you start thinking too much, it turns yellow. And if your thoughts get very loud and jumbled..."

"What happens then?" Harry asked eagerly.

"It gives you a tiny tickle," Dumbledore demonstrated by tapping the bracelet with his wand. Harry giggled as a slight tingling sensation ran up his arm.

"Let's try for one minute first," Dumbledore suggested, setting an hourglass on the floor between them. "Just sit still and try to think about nothing at all."

Harry closed his eyes tight and tried to empty his head. But thoughts kept popping up like persistent bubbles - what he'd paint later, whether Charlotte had figured out the notebook yet, if Yuumi had caught any mice...

Zap! The bracelet tickled him.

"Maybe try focusing on your breathing," Dumbledore suggested gently. "In and out, like waves on a beach."

Harry tried again, thinking about painting waves. But that just made him excited about trying to paint the ocean, and zap! went the bracelet again.

"This is hard!" Harry opened his eyes with a huff. "Can't I just think about nice calm things?"

"The goal is to think of nothing at all," Dumbledore explained. "Imagine you're floating in space, where everything is quiet and still."

"But space has stars and planets and stuff!" Harry protested. "And magical creatures flying about on moonbeams, and-" Zap!

"Perhaps we need a different approach," Dumbledore mused, stroking his beard. He waved his wand, and suddenly the office disappeared. They were sitting in what looked like a blank white room that stretched forever in all directions.

"Ooh!" Harry's head whipped around, trying to see where everything had gone. "Is this real?"

"It's a special magic room where nothing exists except what we put in it," Dumbledore explained. "Now, close your eyes again. There's nothing here to think about, nothing to distract you."

Harry tried once more, finding it easier in the empty space. For a few seconds, his mind actually felt quiet...

Then he wondered if he could paint a room like this, and zap!

"Very good!" Dumbledore praised, even though Harry hadn't managed more than a few seconds. "You're already doing better than most beginners. Shall we try again?"

"One more try," Harry said, determined to beat his record. He squeezed his eyes shut and pictured his mind becoming as blank as the white room around them.

The bracelet stayed green for nearly ten seconds before Harry was disturbed by the sounds of his body in the quiet space. Zap!

"I think that's enough for today," Dumbledore said, waving his wand to restore the office. "You did very well for your first lesson. Remember to practice making your mind quiet before bed."

Harry hopped up from his pillow, eager to get to breakfast. "Can I keep the bracelet to practice with?"

"For now, yes. But remember - no showing it to the other students." Dumbledore stood up as well. "We wouldn't want them all asking for their own magical tickling bracelets, would we?"

---Nine Months Later, March 1987---

Harry's room in the castle had changed a lot since he'd become talented at painting. The walls were covered in his paintings - some moving, some still. Dragons soared across one wall, while the lake and forest stretched across another. One of his newer works showed the cursed ice knights he'd fought last year, though he'd made them less scary in the painting.

At almost seven years old, Harry was pretty tall for his age, and strong and nimble from all his exercises. His messy black hair refused to stay flat no matter what Aunt Min tried, and his bright green eyes seemed to catch everything.

Harry adjusted his black robes while absently making his mist flow around him. He was glad he didn't need glasses like his father had - Aunt Min had mentioned James Potter was practically blind without them. At least he got his mum's eyes, though thinking about his parents always gave him a funny feeling in his chest. He didn't remember them at all, just what people told him and the few moving photos he had.

The mist formed into three perfect pyramids above his head. He hadn't gotten any offers in many months now from the special words. When he'd asked Grandpa about it, Dumbledore just smiled and said to be grateful for what he already had. Still, Harry couldn't help hoping for more.

At least his firebending was getting better every day. Uncle Filius's precision exercises really helped - just yesterday he'd managed to light all twenty candles in the practice room with exactly the same sized flame. He'd even discovered something new about two months ago! If he pooled more energy in his hands or feet before releasing it, the flames became almost solid, pushing things back instead of burning them. It wasn't as hot as normal fire, but it was probably going to be very useful if he didn't want to hurt someone too badly.

The Hero's Journal was fun to read too. Sometimes it gave him little hints about things happening in the castle. Just last month he was talking with Tonks, Penny and Chiara who were helping a first-year Ravenclaw find her lost cat when the journal mentioned something about "Mister Snuffles' favorite sunny spot." And finding the kitchens had been fun - the journal had written something about "ticklish fruit" and "helpful beings," which confused him until one of his caretakers, Mipsy, explained about the pear painting when he complained that it didn't make any sense.

Harry reached for his pouch in the closet, and something burst out at him. He stumbled back, heart racing - then froze.

It was... himself. But wrong. Powerless. The other Harry looked weak and hurt, blood seeping from a chest wound just like what had happened to Draco at the Ministry. The figure coughed painfully, reaching toward him with shaking hands.

Harry's initial fear faded quickly as his instincts kicked in. Whatever this thing was, it couldn't actually hurt him. He'd gotten pretty good over the years at telling just how dangerous things were, and this... this wasn't dangerous at all.

Harry scowled at the pathetic display before him. A Boggart - he remembered reading about them in one of the books Aunt Min gave him. It was trying to scare him with... himself being weak? Being hurt like Draco was?

"That's not very nice," Harry said coldly, his earlier fear replaced with anger. How dare this weak creature, this thing that couldn't even hurt him, try to use his memories against him? The fake Harry whimpered, still reaching toward him with bloody hands.

His mist responded to his intentions, seeping from his skin in thick coils. Harry directed it toward the Boggart, wanting to show it what real fear felt like. The creature, still wearing his face, tried to change shape again but the mist enveloped it too quickly in a spherical prison.

For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then the Boggart screamed.

The sound made Harry jump back. The mist surrounding the creature began to pulse and writhe, growing darker and thicker. The Boggart kept changing forms rapidly - a wounded Harry, a dementor, a dragon, back to Harry - each form letting out increasingly terrified shrieks.

Harry's satisfaction quickly turned to concern as the amortal non-being thrashed wildly in his mist, its transformations becoming more erratic. This wasn't supposed to happen. The mist was meant to show fears, yes, but the Boggart... it fed on fear. His mist was making it see its own fear, which was making it feed on itself, which his mist was then amplifying.

"Stop!" Harry tried to pull the mist back, but it wasn't listening anymore. The Boggart's screams were getting higher and higher pitched, its form blurring so fast Harry couldn't make out what it was trying to become.

Harry stumbled back as the Boggart's screams reached a pitch that made his teeth hurt. The mist swirled faster and darker, almost black now, feeding off the creature's terror and reflecting it back. His bedroom walls seemed to vibrate with each shriek.

"Please stop!" Harry waved his hands frantically, trying to disperse the mist, but it had taken on a life of its own. The Boggart was spinning in place now, its form a twisted blur of colors and shapes that made his head spin. He could see fragments of things - claws, teeth, blood, darkness - all mixing together in a horrible mess.

Something cracked. Harry looked up to see hairline fractures spreading across his painted walls, the pictures warping and twisting. His beautiful dragon painting split in half as the surface buckled.

The door burst open. "Harry! What's happening-" Flitwick's voice cut off in shock.

"Uncle Filius! Help!" Harry shouted over the noise. "It's a Boggart but my mist- I can't make it stop!"

Flitwick raised his wand, but before he could cast anything, the Boggart let out one final glass-shattering shriek - and exploded. Black smoke filled the room as Harry felt himself being yanked backward by a spell. He landed safely behind Flitwick just as all his paintings shattered at once, raining magical paint and canvas across the floor.

When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left of the Boggart except a small pile of dark ash. Harry's mist dissipated slowly, leaving the room in eerie silence.

"I didn't mean to," Harry whispered, staring at the destruction. His beautiful paintings, months of work, lay in ruins around them. "I just wanted to scare it a little, but then it got scared of being scared and my mist kept showing it more fear and-"

"Breathe, Harry," Flitwick said gently, keeping his wand raised as he examined the ash pile. "Are you hurt?"

Harry shook his head, fighting back tears. "Did... did I kill it?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Flitwick admitted. "I've never seen anything quite like that before. We should get the Headmaster."

Flitwick waved his wand in a rotational pattern. "Reparo!"

The shattered paintings and canvas pieces flew back together, mending themselves seamlessly. Colors swirled and reformed, magical creatures returning to their proper places on the walls. The dragon painting's two halves jammed back together and shook itself, as if clearing away dust, before resuming its majestic flight across the restored wall.

Harry wiped his eyes with his sleeve, sniffling. "They're okay?"

"Good as new," Flitwick assured him, though he kept glancing at the pile of ash. "Now, let's fetch Professor Dumbledore. He'll want to see this."

"Can we clean it up first?" Harry asked, not wanting to get in trouble. "Maybe if we just sweep it away-"

"Harry," Flitwick's voice was kind but firm. "We need to understand what happened here. Your mist spell did something very unusual to that Boggart. The Headmaster should examine it."

Harry nodded reluctantly. He knew Flitwick was right, but part of him just wanted to pretend nothing had happened. His chest felt tight, like when he'd accidentally scared that sparrow to death with his mist last year.

"Could you send your Patronus to tell him?" Harry asked quietly. He didn't want to leave his room just yet, not while that pile of ash was still there reminding him what his power could do.

Flitwick nodded, conjuring his raven Patronus with a flick of his wand. After sending it off with a message, he turned back to Harry.

"Would you like to tell me what happened in more detail?"

Harry sat on his bed, legs dangling over the edge. "I was just getting ready for breakfast when something jumped out of my closet. It turned into... me, but hurt and weak."

He glanced at the pile of ash, then back to Flitwick. "I knew it was a Boggart right away. It wasn't actually dangerous. But it made me angry that it was trying to scare me with that, so I used my mist on it."

Flitwick conjured a small chair and sat down. "And then?"

"It started screaming," Harry said, wrapping his arms around himself. "The mist usually just shows people what they're afraid of, but the Boggart... it kept changing shapes really fast. Like it was getting more scared of being scared."

Dumbledore walked through the doorway then, his star-splattered purple robes swishing softly. His eyes went straight to the pile of ash, eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Most peculiar," he murmured, kneeling down to examine it. "Filius, have you ever seen anything like this?"

"Never," Flitwick shook his head. "The mist spell seemed to create some sort of feedback loop with the Boggart's fear-based nature. It kept escalating until..." he gestured at the ash.

"Fascinating," Dumbledore pulled out his wand and cast several detection spells. "An amortal being should not be capable of death. They simply exist or cease to exist. This is unprecedented."

Harry watched them discuss it, feeling smaller by the minute. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, my boy," Dumbledore turned to him with gentle eyes. "This was an accident, and quite an educational one at that. Though perhaps we should not cast a fear-based spell on an entity that feeds on fear."

"I didn't mean to kill it," Harry said in a small voice. "I just wanted to teach it a lesson."

"Perhaps we can learn from this," Dumbledore said, vanishing the ash with a wave of his wand. "Would you show us your mist again, Harry? In a controlled manner this time?"

Harry nodded, glad he wasn't in trouble. He held out his hand, letting the familiar silvery mist seep from his skin. It pooled in his palm like water made of moonlight.

"Remarkable," Dumbledore murmured, raising his wand. Golden light danced around the mist as he cast detection spells. "Filius, look at how it responds to the Anima Revelio."

Flitwick cast his own spell, and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Almost like a Patronus, but... different."

Harry sat quietly while they worked, making his mist form different shapes to keep himself entertained. A tiny hut rose from his palm, complete with a garden and pen. When that got boring, he made it into a stick figure made out of cubes.

The sun climbed higher in the sky as Dumbledore cast spell after spell…

"The composition is fascinating," Dumbledore said after what felt like forever. He stroked his beard, watching the mist swirl around Harry's fingers. "It's not purely magical energy. There's something else... something almost spiritual."

"Like ghosts?" Harry asked, bored out of his mind.

"Similar, yes." Dumbledore shared a look with Flitwick. "The mist seems to share properties with ghosts and soul magic, though how you're creating it..."

"I just do," Harry shrugged, making the mist disappear. "Like how I know when someone's dangerous, or how to transform into an eagle."

"I've noticed more Boggarts in the castle lately," Flitwick mentioned to Dumbledore, his small form perched on the edge of his conjured chair. "Just last week we found three in the third floor classrooms."

Harry's eyes lit up, remembering what his journal had written about another vault connected to fear. He squirmed in his seat, catching Dumbledore's eye. "Grandpa, you know... the thing we talked about?"

"Ah yes," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he caught Harry's meaning. "Perhaps we can investigate that connection another time. For now, I believe you're late for breakfast."

"But what about the Boggarts?" Harry asked, sliding off his bed. "Shouldn't we do something?"

"While concerning, a few extra Boggarts aren't particularly dangerous," Dumbledore assured him. "At least, not under normal circumstances." He glanced meaningfully at the spot where the ash had been.

Harry felt his cheeks grow warm. "I promise not to use my mist on any more Boggarts."

 

[Evoxius]

Harry stood at the edge of the Great Lake, carefully going through his firebending forms. He'd dragged one of the smaller mirrors from an unused classroom out here - with Mipsy's help of course - and propped it against a large rock so he could watch himself practice. The spring air was crisp but not too cold, perfect for training.

"Punch, step, twist, kick," he muttered to himself, watching his reflection carefully. The instincts that came with firebending always told him when a move felt wrong, but seeing it helped too. Sometimes his foot would be slightly off, or his arm not quite straight enough.

His thoughts kept drifting back to last week's Boggart incident. Even though Uncle Filius fixed his paintings and Grandpa wasn't mad, Harry couldn't stop thinking about those horrible screams. The way the creature had twisted and warped before exploding into black ash...

"Stupid Boggart," Harry growled, his next punch producing bigger flames than he'd meant to. "Stupid mist. Stupid everything!"

He dropped into a wider stance, planting his feet firmly on the ground like roots of a tree. With his eyes closed, Harry drew in the deepest breath he could, feeling his chest expand. The energy in his core swirled and built as he held that breath, compressing tighter and tighter until his whole body felt like it might burst.

One... two... three... four... five... six...

Harry's eyes snapped open as he exhaled explosively, throwing his right fist forward with everything he had. The fire that erupted from his hand wasn't its usual cheerful orange - instead, deep red flames roared across the lake's surface, spreading out nearly thirty feet and turning the water beneath to steam with angry hisses.

"Bloody hell!"

"Merlin's pants!"

Harry spun around at the surprised yelps, spotting Tonks and Penny approaching from the castle path. Tonks's hair had turned a shocked white color, while Penny was clutching her books to her chest with wide eyes.

The bracelet on Harry's wrist was zapping him repeatedly now, glowing a deep warning yellow. Taking a quick breath, Harry closed his eyes and fell into the familiar routine of clearing his thoughts, something he practiced every night before bed. Empty and quiet, like the white room. No anger, no frustration, no remembered screams...

His shoulders slowly relaxed as he counted his breaths like Grandpa had taught him. After several long moments, he opened his eyes, managing a slightly wobbly smile.

His voice was quieter than usual, but steady enough. "Hi Tonks! Hi Penny! Did you come to watch me practice?"

The two girls walked over just as his bracelet finally stopped its tickling. Tonks's hair had shifted back to her favorite bubblegum pink, though she was still eyeing the steaming lake water.

"We saw you from Charms class," Penny said, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Thought we'd come say hi before dinner."

"Where's Chiara?" Harry asked, looking around for their quiet friend. "She's usually with you guys."

Tonks's smile turned awkward. "Ah, she's got some... girl stuff going on right now. Nothing for little boys to worry about!"

"I'm not that little," Harry protested, but didn't push it. He knew when grown-ups - or almost-grown-ups - were trying to keep secrets.

"That was some pretty intense fire though," Tonks said, gesturing at the lake. "Way bigger than what you showed us before!"

Penny nodded. "Even when we were dealing with the ice, it wasn't quite that... explosive."

Harry kicked at the grass. "It wasn't good at all. I got angry and lost control."

"That doesn't mean it wasn't cool though," Tonks grinned, her hair shifting to flame-red. "Just needs a bit more control, yeah?"

"I guess," Harry shrugged, then brightened. "Oh! Mipsy?"

With a soft pop, the house elf appeared beside him, her large ears perking up. "Young Master Harry is calling?"

"Could you take the mirror back to where we got it from? Please?"

"Of course! Mipsy is happy to help!" She snapped her fingers, making both herself and the mirror vanish.

"Dinner's soon," Penny said, checking with Tempus. "Want to walk back with us?"

Harry nodded, falling into step between them as they headed toward the castle.

"So what made you all grumpy anyway?" Tonks asked as they walked. "Usually you're way more careful with your fire stuff whenever you show off your progress."

Harry kicked a small rock along the path. "Just thinking about stuff that happened last week. Made me mad."

"Want to talk about it?" Penny offered.

"Not really," Harry mumbled, then perked up. "Oh! I didn't show you guys yet, but I did learn how to make the flames push things instead of burn them! Want to see?"

"Maybe after dinner," Penny laughed. "I don't fancy getting singed before pudding."

"You're like a tiny flamethrower," Tonks grinned. "Except way cooler."

Harry scrunched up his face. "What's a flame-throw-er?"

"It's this Muggle weapon thing," Tonks explained, waving her hands excitedly. "They put special fuel in a big metal tank, and when they pull a trigger it shoots out fire really far!"

"But... why don't they just use spells?" Harry asked, genuinely confused. "Sounds like a lot of work just to make fire."

"Muggles can't do magic, remember?" Penny reminded him gently.

"Oh yeah." Harry thought about it for a moment. "That's silly though. They make everything so complicated! Like those flying metal birds Aunt Min told me about."

"Airplanes," Tonks supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, those! Why build a giant metal thing when you can just use a small broom?" Harry shook his head. "Muggles are funny."

"Muggles are just normal people who can't help that they don't have magic," Tonks disagreed as they reached the castle entrance. "And they come up with some really fun stuff too. Like movies!"

Harry waved goodbye to the girls as they split off toward their house tables. Walking through the Great Hall, he noticed the usual whispers and stares following him. Ever since he'd started practicing by the lake instead of hidden away in empty classrooms, people seemed even more interested in him than usual.

He plopped down in his usual seat, reaching into his soul to summon out the leather-bound Hero's Journal. The book appeared in his hands with a faint golden light, its pages already flipping open to the most recent entries.

'Young Harry struggled with the aftermath of the Boggart incident,' read one passage. 'His guilt over its destruction manifested in anger, leading him to fuel his flames with negative emotions rather than his usual artistic passion. Combined with compressed Chi, this resulted in flames of unusual power and intensity, though at the cost of control.'

"Chi?" Harry muttered, feeling his cheeks warm at reading about his mistakes. He'd always just called it energy. The next few lines caught his attention even more.

'While Nymphadora Tonks spoke of "girl problems" affecting young Chiara, the truth lies beneath the surface - quite literally, in fact. Perhaps a curious eagle might find answers beneath the violent tree tonight, where someone could use a friend during their monthly ordeal...'

Harry sat up straighter in his seat at that. This definitely sounded like another adventure! But why would Chiara be under a violent tree at night? And what did it mean by monthly...?

His thoughts were interrupted by Professor McGonagall dropping a napkin on his head. "Eat your dinner, Harry. That book will still be there after you've had some proper food."

Harry glanced up at Aunt Min through his messy black hair. "Thanks," he mumbled, stuffing the journal back into his soul and reaching for some shepherd's pie.

He really wanted to know more about this tree though. Trying to sound casual, he asked, "Aunt Min? I heard some students talking about a violent tree somewhere. What's that about?"

McGonagall's lips pressed into a thin line. "Really, they shouldn't be gossiping about such things to you." She sighed, serving him some vegetables. "But since you asked - there's a Whomping Willow north of the greenhouses, near the forest edge. It's quite dangerous, swings its branches at anything that comes close. You're not to go anywhere near it, understood?"

Harry nodded quickly, shoving a big bite of pie in his mouth so he wouldn't have to say anything else. Perfect - now he knew exactly where to look! After dinner, he could transform and fly around until he spotted it.

But how would Chiara get under a tree that hit things? That part didn't make sense yet. Maybe if he found a comfy branch in a normal tree nearby, he could watch and figure it out. His eagle eyes were really good at seeing things in the dark anyway.

He took another small bite of dinner, already excited about his nighttime adventure. The journal hadn't been wrong about anything yet, and this sounded way more interesting than practicing Occlumency before bed.

"Harry," McGonagall's stern voice broke into his thoughts. "You're practically bouncing in your seat. What are you planning?"

"Nothing!" Harry said quickly - too quickly. "Just... excited about dessert?"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the very flimsy excuse but didn't push further. Harry focused on his food, trying to look innocent. He was getting better at keeping secrets, but Aunt Min always seemed to know when he was up to something.

oo0ooOoo0oo​

Harry's talons gripped the thick oak branch as he watched the Whomping Willow in the growing darkness. He'd been perched here for almost an hour, his eagle eyes scanning for any movement near the violent tree. The journal had said tonight, but hadn't mentioned what time...

He perked up as two figures made their way over a hill towards the Whomping Willow. His eagle vision easily picked out Madam Pomfrey's distinctive white healer's robes, and next to her was... Chiara!

He watched curiously as Madam Pomfrey levitated a long stick, carefully guiding it to prod something at the base of the tree. The Whomping Willow, which had been lazily swaying its branches, suddenly went completely still.

Pomfrey gave Chiara a quick hug, speaking to her in low tones Harry couldn't catch from his pretty far-away perch. Chiara nodded, looking pale and tired in the fading light, before hurrying towards the now-docile tree. To Harry's surprise, she disappeared underneath it, as if there was some kind of space hidden in its roots.

Once Pomfrey started heading back towards the castle, Harry spread his wings. Whatever was going on with Chiara, she probably needed a friend. He glided silently from his oak branch towards the Willow, intending to follow her path.

He'd barely come close when the tree suddenly sprang back to life. A massive branch whooshed over his head, missing him by inches! Harry backwinged hard, heart pounding as the Whomping Willow's branches began their violent swaying once more.

Well, that explained why they needed the stick. But how was he supposed to get past it now? There had to be some way to reach whatever secret tunnel Chiara had disappeared into...

His eagle eyes suddenly darkened and he nearly lost control of his wings in surprise.

[Devouring the Heart - Elden Ring - Limgrave] – 200CP, 100CP left

It matters not from where a dragon originates, for a dragon is still a dragon, and there is power within their hearts. Whenever you consume the heart of a dragon, regardless of its exact nature, then you will find yourself gaining a new power or ability based upon whose heart you have consumed. The heart of a dragon attuned to the arcane would see you capable of utilizing its magical breath, while a dragon known for its physical strength would see you summoning its claws.

Harry fluttered down to land behind a nearby boulder, his talons scraping against the cool stone as he transformed back to human form. His heart was still racing, both from nearly getting smacked by the Whomping Willow and from seeing those special words appear again after so long.

"Dragons," he whispered excitedly to himself. He loved dragons - had painted dozens of them on his walls. And now he could get powers from them? That was so cool!

But wait. Harry frowned, thinking carefully like Grandpa always told him to. The words said he had to eat dragon hearts to get the powers. That sounded kind of gross. And where would he even find dragon hearts?

Then again... Harry remembered the stories Uncle Filius told about dragon heartstring wands. If wands could use dragon parts for magic, maybe eating their hearts wasn't that weird? And he already ate raw prey sometimes when he was an eagle, so maybe dragon heart wouldn't taste that bad even if he didn't usually eat organs.

Plus, Harry thought with growing excitement, if he did find a dragon heart from a really strong dragon, he might get amazing powers! Maybe even breathing real dragon fire, way bigger and hotter than his firebending. Or super sharp claws that could cut through anything! He probably wouldn't get anything else from dragons, but just that was cool enough.

He looked back at the Whomping Willow still swaying menacingly in the darkness. He should probably be trying to figure out how to get past it to check on Chiara... but this was the first special offer in forever! And it wasn't anything scary like becoming a zombie - just cool dragon stuff!

"Yes," Harry said firmly, making his decision. "I want it!"

He waited, bouncing slightly on his toes. The wind rustled through the leaves above. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance. The Whomping Willow's branches kept swishing back and forth.

Nothing happened.

Harry's excitement deflated like a punctured balloon. He smacked his forehead with his palm, feeling pretty silly. "Oh. Right. I need to actually eat a dragon heart first."

He slumped against the boulder, watching the Willow's branches dance in the light from the full moon. Getting dragon powers would have to wait - he didn't even know where to find dragon hearts. Maybe one of the professors would know? But then he'd have to explain why he wanted one, and he didn't want to seem weird for wanting to eat a dragon heart…

Harry shook his head, pushing those thoughts away for now. He had something more important to do tonight. Somewhere under that crazy tree, Chiara was all alone, and the journal thought she needed a friend.

 

[Evoxius]

Harry crept closer to the Whomping Willow, staying low to the ground. The massive tree's branches kept swishing through the air, making whooshing sounds that reminded him of when he dove as an eagle. He needed to find whatever spot Madam Pomfrey had poked with that stick.

The full moon cast enough light for him to see pretty well, but getting close enough to look properly meant risking getting hit. And those branches looked way bigger from down here than they had from his safe perch in the oak tree.

"Come on," he muttered to himself. "You fought ice knights. This is just a tree."

But his instincts disagreed - the tree could definitely hurt him badly if it landed a hit. Harry bit his lip, considering his options. He could try flying really fast, but one wrong move and splat. He could try using his fire, but Aunt Min would probably be super mad if he burned the special tree.

Maybe his mist? No, making this tree panic probably wasn't that useful. And after what happened with the Boggart, Harry wasn't keen on using that power on random magical beings, or non-beings, if he didn't know how it would affect them unless he really had to.

A branch smashed into the ground nearby, making Harry jump. "Okay, okay, thinking time over."

He transformed back into his eagle form, fluttering up to get a better view. From above, he could see a sort of knot in the roots where Madam Pomfrey had pointed her stick. That had to be the secret button or whatever made the tree freeze.

Harry let out a frustrated huff, watching another branch smash into the dirt. He really didn't want to get hit - the tree looked mean enough to break bones. But Chiara was down there somewhere, and the journal said she needed a friend...

Wait. Maybe he didn't need to get close at all!

Harry changed back to human form, his feet settling firmly on the grass. If he could use that trick he discovered, and hit that knot in the roots from here...

"Small and careful," Harry whispered to himself, dropping into a loose stance. He didn't need a big flame for this - just enough to reach the target.

Taking a slow breath, Harry focused on pooling his chi at his right hand, just as he'd practiced. When he punched forward, the energy flowed from his core through the main pathway, streaming toward his hand. A small flame shot out—looking ordinary enough, but Harry could sense its difference. The fire pressed into the knot and then spread across the tree's bark without leaving even a scorch mark.

The Whomping Willow's branches slowed, then froze completely.

"Ha!" Harry grinned, quite pleased with himself. "Knew that would be useful someday!"

He jogged over to the now-still tree, peering around its massive trunk. There - between two giant roots was a person-sized gap leading down into darkness. Harry hesitated for just a moment before climbing inside. The tunnel was dark and seemed to go on forever, but Chiara had come this way, so it had to lead somewhere.

Harry cupped his right hand, focusing on creating just a tiny flame. The small orange light danced in his palm, casting flickering shadows on the earthen walls. The tunnel wasn't very wide - an adult would probably have to slouch, but Harry could walk normally.

He walked. And walked. And walked some more. The flame in his palm barely touched the darkness ahead, and the silence pressed in around him like a heavy blanket. His footsteps seemed too loud in the quiet, even though he tried to step carefully.

"This is taking forever," Harry muttered to himself, just to hear something besides his own breathing. The tunnel curved slightly here and there, but he felt it was mostly going left. Or at least he hoped it was left - he'd lost track of direction ages ago.

After probably less than twenty minutes, Harry spotted something ahead. The tunnel ended in what looked like wooden boards on the roof of the tunnel, with a gap just big enough for someone to squeeze through.

Harry extinguished his flame and studied the opening. He'd need to jump a bit to reach it, but that shouldn't be too hard. Taking a deep breath, he pushed off the ground and grabbed the edge, pulling himself up as quietly as he could.

The room he climbed into made him freeze. Broken furniture lay scattered about like someone had thrown everything around in a rage. Deep scratches marked the walls, and sheets of wallpaper hung in sad, torn strips. Thick dust covered everything, stirred by his movements into lazy swirls that caught what little moonlight filtered through boarded-up windows.

The floorboards creaked ominously under his feet. Harry jumped when one cracked with a sharp snap, his heart suddenly pounding. This place felt wrong - like one of those haunted houses from the stories older students sometimes told to scare the younger ones.

"Chiara?" he called softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are you here somewhere?"

Silence answered him. Then - a low growl from somewhere upstairs made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. That... that didn't sound like Chiara at all.

"Chiara?" he tried again, even quieter this time. The growling got louder.

Harry's hands started trembling slightly. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all...

Heavy footsteps thudded overhead, sending dust raining down from the ceiling. Harry backed up against the wall, feeling sweat trickle down his forehead. Whatever was up there sounded big. Really big.

The growling turned into a snarl that made his whole body want to run. But his feet felt frozen to the floor as something crashed around upstairs, getting closer to the stairs.

Should he transform and try to fly back through the tunnel? But eagles weren't made for underground spaces - his wings would hit the walls. Should he use his fire? But in this small wooden house, he might burn everything down, including himself. His little trick with pooling chi at the exit points wasn't something he had perfected, and it could still cause things to burn if they were vulnerable enough.

A horrible thought struck him. If that thing upstairs had hurt Chiara...

The floorboards above creaked. Harry held his breath, pressing himself flat against the wall. His instincts were screaming at him that whatever was up there could definitely kill him. He should listen to his instincts, and he must run away as fast as he could.

But Chiara was his friend. And friends didn't leave friends alone with monsters.

The stairs groaned. Something was coming down.

Harry compressed his chi slightly, ready to fight if he had to. His hands shook as he raised them in a defensive stance. The orange flame that sprouted from his palms cast wild shadows on the walls.

A massive shape appeared at the top of the stairs. In the flickering firelight, Harry caught glimpses of gray fur, sharp teeth, and eyes that glowed with an unnatural amber light.

His breath caught in his throat as understanding hit him like a punch to the stomach.

"Oh," Harry whispered, his flames guttering out as his concentration shattered. "You're a werewolf."

The creature - Chiara - let out another bone-chilling growl and took a step down the stairs.

Harry's heart hammered in his chest as the werewolf took another step down the creaking stairs. Those amber eyes locked onto him with predatory focus, and he could see foam starting to gather at the corners of her mouth.

The wolf that was Chiara let out a low, rumbling growl that made Harry's knees feel weak. Her muscles bunched and tensed under thick gray fur, like a Coiled Ashwinder about to strike. Any second now she'd snap and...

Think! The journal wouldn't send him here just to get eaten. There had to be something he was missing. Chiara was sick every month, and she had two different kinds of danger inside her, and it was the full moon tonight...

By Merlin's name was he dumb for not figuring it out sooner.

The werewolf's claws scraped against the wooden steps as she descended another step. Harry pressed himself flat against the wall, cursing softly under his breath. What exactly had the journal said? Something about truth beneath the surface, and a curious eagle finding answers...

Chiara's massive head tilted back, and she let out a howl that shook dust from the ceiling. The sound bounced off the walls, making Harry's ears ring. She was losing control fast.

Eagle! That was it! The journal said 'curious eagle'!

Just as Chiara launched herself down the remaining stairs, Harry concentrated hard and transformed. His body shrank and shifted, feathers sprouting across his skin. Where a small boy had stood moments ago, now perched a golden eagle.

The werewolf skidded to a stop barely three feet away, her claws leaving deep gouges in the floorboards. Her head tilted in confusion as she stared at him, nostrils flaring. The rage in those amber eyes slowly dimmed as she processed that there were no more humans nearby.

Harry stayed very still, watching as Chiara's tensed muscles gradually relaxed. The foam at her mouth began to dry, and her growls turned into curious snuffling sounds as she lowered her massive head to inspect him more closely.

Maybe this was what the journal meant about being a friend during her monthly ordeal. She didn't want to hurt anyone - she just couldn't help it when she saw humans during the full moon. But animals were safe.

Harry watched as Chiara sniffed at his feathers, her hot breath ruffling them slightly. The werewolf was still scary-looking up close, with teeth longer than his fingers and claws that looked like they could tear through stone, but she wasn't acting mean anymore. Just curious, like a really big dog meeting a new friend.

He carefully shifted his weight on his talons, making sure not to make any sudden moves. The floorboards creaked beneath him, and Chiara's ears twitched at the sound. But she just huffed and sat back on her haunches, watching him with those glowing amber eyes.

This was way better than trying to fight her. Harry knew his fire might hurt her, and he really didn't want to do that. She was his friend, even if right now she looked like something from Stupid Snape's weekly attempt to scare him.

Chiara let out a small whine and pawed at the ground. She looked lonely, Harry realized. Maybe that's why she came down here every full moon - so she wouldn't accidentally hurt anyone, but that meant being all alone in this creepy old house.

Making up his mind, Harry hopped closer and chirped softly. See? Just a friendly bird. Nothing to worry about.

The werewolf's tail actually wagged a little, thumping against the dusty floor. She lay down, resting her huge head on her paws, still watching him but in a sleepy sort of way now.

Harry hopped closer to Chiara, looking around the broken-down house as he did. Chairs lay in pieces, tables had chunks missing, and deep scratches covered nearly every surface. He'd seen cats do something similar to furniture at Hogwarts, but on a much smaller scale. Did werewolves need to scratch things too? The house looked like it had been through several angry bears rather than just one werewolf.

At least Chiara seemed calm now. She watched him with lazy interest as he explored, her tail occasionally thumping against the floor when he came near. Harry decided he might as well do something fun while keeping her company - it wasn't like he could sleep anyway, not with how exciting this whole night had been.

Even in eagle form, Harry could still convert his magic into fear-mist. He couldn't access his firebending like this - birds didn't have the right chi paths or whatever made firebending work. But the mist was different, more like part of his magic than his body.

Harry concentrated, pulling at that familiar feeling. A small cloud of silvery mist formed in front of him, making Chiara's ears perk up. He shaped it carefully into a ball, then stretched it into a cube. The werewolf's amber eyes tracked the movement, her head tilting slightly.

Encouraged by her interest, Harry made the cube spin slowly in the air. He'd gotten pretty good at this kind of movement lately - way better than those wobbly attempts with Tonks watching. The cube morphed into a pyramid, then back to a sphere.

Chiara suddenly swiped at the misty shape with one massive paw. Harry quickly made it float higher, his eagle heart jumping a bit. The mist might make her panic if she touched it, and he really didn't want to find out if werewolves liked eating eagles.

But she just watched the floating shapes with the same fascination his cat-form aunt showed for the red dot from Flitwick's wand when he decided to tease her. Harry kept practicing, making triangles and squares dance through the air. He even managed to make four shapes at once, though keeping them all rotating smoothly at all times was tricky.

The night went on, and Harry found himself getting sleepy. His shapes started getting wobblier, and keeping his eyes open got harder. Chiara hadn't moved much except to watch his mist-show, and she really did seem more like a big furry dog than a monster now.

Making up his mind, Harry let his mist fade away and fluttered over to where Chiara lay. She lifted her head slightly as he landed between her ears, but didn't seem to mind as he settled into her soft fur.

Harry tucked his head under his wing, and slowly fell asleep.

 

[Evoxius]

Harry woke to gentle fingers stroking his feathers. Still half-asleep, he lifted his head and blinked blearily at Chiara, who was back to her normal self and looking at him with tired eyes. The early morning sunlight shone through the cracks in the boarded windows, creating small sunbeams across the room.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then Chiara's eyes widened and she let out a startled shriek and scrambled backwards, nearly falling over a broken chair.

"Harry?! What are you- how did you- you can't be here!" Her voice cracked with panic as she pressed herself against the wall. "Do you know what I am? What could have happened?"

Harry hopped down from where he'd been perched and transformed back into his human form, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Course I know. You're a werewolf. But it's okay - I figured out how to help! See, when I'm an eagle, you don't try to eat me or anything. You just act like a big friendly dog."

Chiara's face had gone very pale. "You... you stayed here all night? With me? As an eagle?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Yeah! I made shapes with my mist to entertain you and everything. You really liked chasing them around." Harry grinned, then yawned widely. "Though I fell asleep on your head eventually. Your fur's really soft."

"But... but..." Chiara seemed to be having trouble finding words. "I could have killed you! What if I'd... if I'd..."

"Nah," Harry said confidently. "Werewolf-you was super dangerous to human-me, but not to eagle-me at all. That's why the journal told me to come help - it knew I'd be safe as long as I wasn't human."

"The journal?" Chiara mouthed, but Harry was already talking again.

"It's this really neat book I got that only I can read. It tells me about adventures and stuff. Like how to find you! Though it was kind of tricky figuring out what it meant about the 'curious eagle' part at first," Harry explained, brushing dust off his robes. "But then when you came down those stairs all growly and scary, I remembered!"

"Harry," Chiara interrupted, grabbing his shoulders gently. Her face was still pale, and her hands trembled slightly. "Please, just... just stay still for a moment. I need to check if you're hurt anywhere. Are you absolutely sure I didn't bite or scratch you?"

"I'm fine! Promise!" Harry said, but let her check his arms and neck anyway. "You weren't mean at all once I transformed. You just wanted someone to play with, right?"

Chiara's inspection slowed, and her shoulders started to relax as she found no injuries. "I... I don't remember much from last night. Just fragments. But I do remember seeing something golden, and feeling... less angry than usual." She finally stepped back, running a hand through her messy silver hair. "You really stayed the whole night?"

"Well yeah! That's what friends do, right?" Harry said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Nobody should have to be all alone in a creepy old house. Even if they're all big and furry once a month."

Tears started forming in Chiara's eyes. Harry shifted uncomfortably - he wasn't very good with crying. But before he could say anything, she pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Just... thank you."

"Er, you're welcome," Harry said, awkwardly patting her back. He wasn't used to hugs - most people at Hogwarts weren't very huggy, except maybe Hagrid, but those felt more like being squeezed by a friendly bear.

When Chiara finally let go, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "We should get back to the castle before anyone notices we're gone. Madam Pomfrey will be here soon to check on me."

Harry nodded, then remembered something. "Oh! I can show you the trick I used to get past the tree! It's pretty neat."

They made their way back through the tunnel, Harry lighting the way with a small flame in his palm. Chiara kept glancing at him, like she couldn't quite believe he was real.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked suddenly. "When you change, I mean."

Chiara was quiet for a moment. "Yes. But I'm used to it now. It's been happening since I was seven."

"That's not fair," Harry said, frowning. "You're nice. Nice people shouldn't have to hurt."

"Life isn't always fair," Chiara said softly. "But having friends who understand... it helps more than you know."

They reached the end of the tunnel. Harry demonstrated how he'd used his chi-pooled fire to hit the knot in the Whomping Willow's roots, making the tree freeze again.

"That's amazing," Chiara said as they climbed out. "I didn't know you could do that with fire."

"I figured it out while practicing. If you pool the… energy just right at your hands or feet, it makes the fire feel solid instead of just hot," Harry explained. "Uncle Filius' been helping me practice control, even though he can't do it himself."

The morning air was cool and crisp. Birds were starting to wake up, their songs echoing across the grounds. Harry could see lights coming on in some of Hogwarts' windows - the castle was beginning to stir.

"Harry?" Chiara said, stopping at the edge of the greenhouses. "Would you... would you maybe want to keep me company again next month?"

"Course I will!" Harry grinned. "It was fun! Well, except for the part where you tried to eat me, but that was before I turned into an eagle. And I can practice making better shapes with my mist - maybe next time I can make them look like actual things instead of just simple shapes."

Chiara laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're a very strange person, Harry Potter. Most people would run away screaming if they found out what I am."

"Most people aren't like me," Harry said matter-of-factly. "Besides, you're way less dangerous than most of the professors. If I can get used to their strength, I can get used to you."

Chiara couldn't help but giggle at that comparison.

"Well, I should probably get back to my room before Aunt Min notices I'm gone," Harry said, scuffing his shoe against the stone steps of the castle entrance. "She gets all worried and her lips go all thin when she can't find me at breakfast."

Chiara smiled, though her eyes still looked tired from the long night. "And I need to wait for Madam Pomfrey. She'll want to check me over like always." She hesitated for a moment, then pulled Harry into another quick hug. "Thank you again. For not being scared of me."

"And Harry?" She waited until he looked back at her. "Maybe don't tell anyone else about... this? About helping me?"

Harry nodded seriously. "Course not. It's our secret."

They split up then, Chiara heading toward the hospital wing while Harry transformed and took flight towards his room. He already had some ideas for next month - maybe he could practice making his mist look like little animals for werewolf-Chiara to chase. That would be way more fun than just floating shapes, though he'd have to be very careful she doesn't manage to touch them… On second thought, let's not do that and get eaten.

oo0ooOoo0oo​

Two weeks passed quickly for Harry. Between his lessons, regular painting sessions, firebending and mist control practice, and planning better ways to keep Chiara company next full moon, he barely noticed the time flying by.

He was at his usual spot on the Astronomy Tower, working on a new painting of the Great Lake at sunset. The light was perfect today, all orange and purple, making the water look like it was on fire. He had just finished adding another layer to capture that effect when footsteps behind him made him turn around.

Charlotte stood there, shifting from foot to foot and clutching a worn notebook. Her Gryffindor tie was crooked, and she looked like she hadn't slept much lately.

"Hi Harry," she said, trying to sound casual but failing pretty badly. "Your painting looks really nice."

"Thanks!" Harry beamed, always happy when people noticed his art. "I'm trying something new with the colors. Want to see?"

"Actually..." Charlotte glanced around like she was checking if anyone else was nearby. "I wanted to talk to you about something important. Remember how you helped with the ice vault?"

Harry nodded, putting down his brush. "Yeah, that was fun! Well, except for the ice knights trying to squish us."

Charlotte gave a weak laugh. "Right. Well, I think I figured out what's causing all those Boggarts to show up everywhere. You know how they keep scaring everyone?"

"Yeah, everyone's been really scared lately," Harry said, frowning as he remembered the screams echoing through the halls. His hands clenched slightly, thinking about the Boggart he'd destroyed. That had been scary, even for him. "Lots of people running and crying."

Charlotte twisted her hands together, not quite meeting his eyes. "That's... that's actually why I wanted to talk to you. See, I think all these Boggarts are coming from another vault. Like how the ice was spreading before."

Harry put his paintbrush down carefully, making sure it wouldn't roll off the tower. "Another vault? Is that why there's been so many scary things lately?"

"Yes, exactly!" Charlotte brightened, then seemed to catch herself. Her cheeks went pink as she glanced down at him. "I know you're... well, you're younger than most people I'd ask for help, but you were really brave with the ice vault. And your fire worked really well..."

"How come you're not asking Bill or Penny?" Harry asked, head tilted. "They helped last time too."

Charlotte's face fell slightly. "Oh, well... they're busy with exams and..." She trailed off, then sighed. "Actually, they're not really talking to me right now. After the ice vault, everyone started whispering about how it's all happening again, just like with Jacob, and..."

She stopped, biting her lip. Harry noticed her eyes looked a bit watery.

"Your brother got in trouble for the vaults before, right?" Harry asked. "And now people think you're making more trouble?"

Charlotte nodded miserably. "Everyone keeps saying I'm going to get expelled just like him. Even Bill and Penny have been avoiding me lately. But I have to figure this out - these vaults are dangerous! I can't just ignore them because people are being mean."

Harry considered this. He didn't like seeing his friends scared by Boggarts, and Charlotte looked really sad standing there all alone. Plus, his journal had mentioned something about a fear vault...

"Okay," he said. "I'll help. But we gotta be really careful - I don't want anyone else getting hurt like last time."

"Thanks Harry," Charlotte smiled at him. "Come on, let's do this quickly - I already know where to look."

They started walking to the library, with Harry feeling a bit unsure about the whole thing. "Won't we get in trouble if we're caught?"

Charlotte shook her head. "The general library's still open for another hour, so we just need to be careful. I've got a plan to deal with Madam Pince."

When they entered the library, Charlotte pulled out a small paper airplane from her robes. Harry peered at it curiously. "What's that for?"

A mischievous smile spread across Charlotte's face. "It's a fake note from Professor McGonagall. Says there's an emergency meeting about some first-years stealing books from the restricted section." She tapped the paper airplane with her wand, and it zoomed off towards Madam Pince's desk.

They watched from behind a bookshelf as Madam Pince read the note. She let out an exasperated sigh, waved her wand to tidy up some books, and headed for the exit. Harry held his breath as she walked past their hiding spot, only relaxing when she was gone.

Charlotte led them past studying students towards the Restricted Section. She had just reached for her wand when a familiar voice made Charlotte groan audibly.

"Following me again, Whitewood?"

Merula Snyde stood there with her arms crossed, wearing her usual sneer. Next to her was Ismelda, who always reminded Harry of those creepy dolls some of the older students collected with her black hair and black eyeliner.

Charlotte turned around slowly. "What do you want, Merula?" Her voice had the same tone Aunt Min used when dealing with particularly annoying students.

"I want what's inside the Cursed Vault," Merula said. "Same as you. Just for a much less pitiful reason."

Ismelda's lips curled into an unsettling smile. "I just want to watch you bleed."

Before Harry could process that disturbing statement, spells started flying. Charlotte disarmed Merula with a quick Expelliarmus, but then had to block Ismelda's Flipendo with a shield charm.

Harry watched the duel from the side, biting his lips. He didn't like fighting other students – the last time it led to lectures about responsibility and morals. But he couldn't just stand there while his friend faced two at once...

Making up his mind, Harry focused on converting some of his magic into mist. He kept it low to the ground, sending it creeping towards Ismelda while everyone was distracted by Merula's Incendio spell, which Charlotte countered with a charm that spewed water out of her wand and doused the fire.

The mist reached Ismelda just as she raised her wand again. Her eyes widened as the first tendril of fear hit her, and she stumbled backward. The mist thickened around her legs, forming a cube that moved with her no matter how she tried to escape.

Charlotte took advantage of Ismelda's panic, knocking her into a bookshelf with a well-aimed Flipendo. Merula barely got out "Stup-" before the mist reached her legs too, making her hesitate just long enough for Charlotte to stun her.

A second Stupefy took care of Ismelda, and suddenly their part of the library was quiet again except for their breathing.

"That was brilliant," Charlotte said, lowering her wand. "But we should hurry - someone probably heard all that."

Harry nodded, already wondering if Grandpa would consider this self-defense or not. Hopefully he never finds out...

He had just walked past the gates Charlotte unlocked with the Alohomora charm when his green eyes darkened.

[Enchanted Gear - The Elder Scrolls: Dovah] – Costs 50CP, 200CP available to spend.

Only fools go around without the very best equipment they can acquire, and you are no fool. Upon any item you own, you may add a single, powerful enchantment with each purchase of this option. This cannot be used to acquire unique enchantments, such as the effect of Mehrunes' Razor. This option may be taken multiple times, at a discount after the first purchase.

May Be Purchased 4X

"Hey, can we stop for a minute?" Harry asked, tugging on Charlotte's sleeve. "I need to check something real quick. Private stuff."

Charlotte glanced around the dark shelves of the Restricted Section nervously. "Alright, but make it fast. Madam Pince won't stay away forever."

Harry nodded and turned away, letting his mind focus on the offer floating in his thoughts. Another special (one-time use) power - and this one let him make things magical! Like how the professors enchanted stuff to float or move or do cool things.

He could pick anything he owned to make special. His paintbrushes maybe? Or one of his robes? But then he remembered that he sometimes lost small things like paintbrushes, and he couldn't always wear the same set of robes, right?

What did he have that was always by his side?

The Hero's Journal! It was part of his soul now - even if someone stole the actual book, he could just pull it back inside himself. And it was already magical, writing down his adventures and giving him hints. Making it even more special couldn't hurt, right?

Besides, the journal was his friend in a way. It helped him figure out stuff about Chiara and the vaults. It deserved something nice.

Harry grinned, deciding that yes, he definitely wanted this power. And yes, the journal would be perfect for his first enchantment.

Item Chosen: [ The Hero's Journal ]

Choose Enchantment(s) to be applied to [ The Hero's Journal ]

• Reduce Magic Cost In [Alteration, Conjuration, Destruction, Illusion, Restoration] Spells By 50%
• Fortify Skill In [Alchemy, Archery, Barter, Block, Heavy Armor, Light Armor, Lockpicking, One-Handed, Pickpocket, Smithing, Sneak, Two-Handed, Unarmed] By 50%
• Fortify [Health, Magic, Stamina] by 20%
• Fortify [Health Regen, Magic Regen, Stamina Regen] by 100%
• Resist [Disease, Poison] by 100%
• Resist [Fire, Frost, Shock] by 50%
• Resist Magic by 20%
• Muffle Footsteps
• Underwater Breathing

 

[Evoxius]

Item Chosen: [ The Hero's Journal ]

Choose Enchantment(s) to be applied to [ The Hero's Journal ]

• Reduce Magic Cost In [Alteration, Conjuration, Destruction, Illusion, Restoration] Spells By 50%
• Fortify Skill In [Alchemy, Archery, Barter, Block, Heavy Armor, Light Armor, Lockpicking, One-Handed, Pickpocket, Smithing, Sneak, Two-Handed, Unarmed] By 50%
• Fortify [Health, Magic, Stamina] by 20%
• Fortify [Health Regen, Magic Regen, Stamina Regen] by 100%
• Resist [Disease, Poison] by 100%
• Resist [Fire, Frost, Shock] by 50%
• Resist Magic by 20%
• Muffle Footsteps
• Underwater Breathing

He read through the first option about reducing magic costs. The words were a bit confusing - what was Alteration supposed to be? But some made sense - Restoration had to be healing spells, like what Madam Poppy used. Destruction sounded like Defense spells, and Conjuration was probably like Transfiguration. Maybe Illusion was what his mist counted as?

It would be nice to use less magic when making his mist, but he rarely ran out of magic unless he was practicing for a full hour. Even in the library just now, he'd only needed a little mist to help Charlotte. Maybe not worth picking, especially since he'd trained his control over his mist so much. It would have been useful in the past when he needed to convert the majority of his magic into mist that randomly spread towards places, but not now.

The skill improvements were next. Harry perked up at seeing Alchemy - that was what Grandpa was famous for! But the rest... who needed archery when you had magic? And what even was 'barter'?

Block and armor skills seemed pointless for a wizard. Lockpicking made no sense when unlocking charms existed. And pickpocketing? Harry wrinkled his nose - stealing was something that only existed in his fiction books, and he already had everything he needed anyway.

He held up first one hand, then both, trying to figure out what One-Handed and Two-Handed skills meant. Unarmed fighting might be useful, but he preferred using his fire from a slightly safer distance. And sneaking? He could just turn into an eagle if he needed to be sneaky.

The health, magic, and stamina improvements sounded good at first, but 20% didn't seem like much. And the regeneration options... well, Madam Poppy could fix any injuries, and sleeping already helped him recover his magic. Though getting his magic back faster did sound useful for when he was practicing...

Then Harry saw it - complete protection from diseases and poisons. His heart skipped a beat as he remembered what Aunt Min had told him about his grandparents dying from Dragon Pox. No way was he going to let some tiny invisible thing kill him! And poison... well, there were still dark wizards out there who might try to hurt him. It had already happened once that he knew of, so this would keep him safe.

"Those two for sure," Harry whispered to himself.

Fire, frost and shock resistance... Lightning wasn't really a problem, and he could warm himself up if he got cold. But fire resistance… While he didn't usually worry about burning himself with his firebending - it felt as natural as breathing now - having extra protection would let him practice even harder. Plus, lots of wizards used fire spells.

But what really made him grin was the magic resistance. Being able to shrug off spells, even a little bit? That would be brilliant! He could just imagine some mean Slytherin trying to make him cough up toads and nothing happening. Well, he hoped it worked that way and it didn't make him spit out 20% less toads.

For his last choice, Harry kept coming back to Alchemy. Sure, the magic regeneration would be nice, and fire resistance was tempting... but being more like Grandpa? That was special.

Harry nodded to himself, feeling confident in his choices. His Hero's Journal would protect him from poisons and diseases, help him resist magic, and make him better at Alchemy - just like Grandpa Dumbledore. That felt right. Though he had a feeling that he'd need to actually wear or carry the journal for the enchantments to work... He will just ask Aunt Min for a belt or something so he could keep it at his side later.

Enchantments Applied to Chosen Item [ The Hero's Journal ]:
Poison Resistance 100%
Disease Resistance 100%
Magic Resistance 20%
Fortify Skill in Alchemy by 50%

"I'm done," he whispered to Charlotte. "Sorry for taking so long. Let's go find that vault!"

Charlotte looked relieved. "Finally! Come on, we need to hurry before Madam Pince gets back."

They walked deeper into the Restricted Section, where the torches barely seemed to light anything at all. The shadows felt thicker here, almost alive, and the books seemed to whisper as they passed. Some of them were even chained to their shelves.

Charlotte shivered slightly. "Look at this place! You'd think students would need advanced Defence against the Dark Arts training to enter..."

"Why?" Harry asked, keeping his voice low. "It's just a library, right?"

Charlotte let out a quiet snort. "There's forbidden spells, explosive potion recipes, dangerous secrets and who knows what else here. I don't know why they keep it so unguarded to be honest."

Harry nodded at that, before shrugging. He didn't really understand grown-ups sometimes. They'd tell him not to fly into classrooms because it was dangerous, but then leave scary books just sitting around where anyone could find them.

"So where's the entrance?" he whispered, eyeing a book that seemed to be dripping something dark onto the shelf below it.

"My brother's notebook we found in the Ice Vault is the key," Charlotte said, pulling out the worn journal. "I don't actually know how, but it should be in this corner somewhere."

"We should split up and look for empty spots where the journal could fit," she added, already moving to search the left side of the shelves.

Harry nodded and turned to the right side. It was way too dark to see properly, so he created a small flame in his left palm. The firelight made the shadows dance weirdly on the walls, and some of the books seemed to shift away from the light.

He was starting to think this wasn't such a good idea when he spotted it - a rectangular gap between two massive books, just the right size for Charlotte's journal.

"Over here!" he called softly. "I found something!"

Charlotte hurried over, her eyes lighting up when she saw the space. "That's perfect!"

She stretched up on her tiptoes and then jumped slightly, journal in hand. The moment she pushed it into the gap, before her feet even touched the ground again, inky black shadows shot out from between the books. They wrapped around both children like dark ribbons, and suddenly the floor wasn't there anymore.

Harry barely had time to yelp before they were pulled down into darkness.

oo0ooOoo0oo​

The fall seemed to last forever and no time at all. Then suddenly they crashed onto cold stone floor, Harry landing on his bottom while Charlotte managed to catch herself in a crouch.

"Ow," Harry muttered, rubbing his sore behind as he looked around. The room they'd landed in was huge and dark, with walls that seemed to stretch up forever into blackness. Thick stone pillars rose up like giant tree trunks, covered in carvings that writhed and shifted when you looked at them too long. The air felt wrong somehow - heavy and sticky, like breathing through syrup.

Charlotte made a choked sound beside him. Her face had gone very pale as she stared at their surroundings, her hands shaking as she compulsively straightened her red tie. "This... this isn't..."

Harry watched her curiously. His instincts weren't screaming danger yet, which was weird given how scary everything looked. But maybe that meant the room itself wasn't actually dangerous? Like those Halloween decorations the professors sometimes put up.

"At least we didn't break anything in the landing?" Charlotte tried to joke, her voice wobbling slightly. "Though I think my pride might need-"

She cut off with a gasp as inky black shadows suddenly poured from the walls like water, flooding the room until only the space around them remained clear. The shadows writhed and twisted, then started gathering into three distinct shapes in front of them.

Harry's eyes widened as the shadows formed into three identical figures. Each was impossibly tall and thin, like someone had stretched a person out too far. Their black robes seemed to eat the light around them, making it hard to look directly at them. But their faces - Harry had never seen anything like them. Chalk-white skin pulled tight over skull-like features, flat snake-like nose, and eyes that glowed red like hot coals.

Charlotte made a strangled sound beside him. Her wand hand was shaking so badly Harry thought she might drop it. "No," she whispered. "Not him. Please not him."

The middle figure raised a bone-white wand. When it spoke, its voice was high and cold, like winter wind through dead trees. "Avada Kedavra!"

Green light filled the chamber. Harry felt himself yanked upward by an invisible hand around his throat. His feet kicked uselessly in the air as one of the figures held him suspended with its wand. The red eyes studied him with cruel interest, like a cat watching a mouse it had caught.

Harry's first instinct was to use his mist - he could already feel his magic starting to shift and cool. But something felt... off. His instincts weren't screaming at him like it should if this dark wizard-

"They're just Boggarts!" Charlotte's voice cracked with panic. "Harry, don't panic - they can't really hurt us!"

The mist coming from his hand slowly disappeared. He remembered what happened last time with the Boggart in his room, how the feedback loop had made everything go crazy... But how could a Boggart use spells? That didn't make sense.

The figure holding Harry snarled, a sound no human throat should make. The pressure around Harry's neck tightened. Charlotte raised her wand, hand still trembling. "R-riddikulus!"

Nothing happened. The spell seemed to slide right off the figure's robes. Charlotte's eyes went wide with horror.

"No no no," she muttered, backing away. "That always works. It has to work!"

The other two figures glided forward, raising their wands. Green light started building at their tips. Charlotte screamed and cast again, putting everything she had into it. "RIDDIKULUS!"

This time the spell struck true. The figure holding Harry transformed, black robes becoming a garish polka-dot clown suit. He dropped Harry with a surprised squawk as a red rubber nose appeared on his snake-like face.

Harry landed hard but rolled to his feet, already moving toward Charlotte. She cast the spell two more times in rapid succession, turning the remaining figures into equally ridiculous clowns. They danced and bounced around, looking completely absurd with their skull-white faces topped by rainbow wigs.

"Are you okay?" Charlotte grabbed Harry's shoulders, checking his neck frantically. "I'm so sorry - they shouldn't have been able to do that. Boggarts can't cast real spells!"

"I'm fine," Harry assured her, though his throat felt a bit sore. "Who was that supposed to be anyway? The scary snake man?"

Charlotte's face went pale again. "That was... that was You-Know-Who. The dark wizard who..." She trailed off, glancing at Harry.

"Oh." Harry kept staring at the dancing clowns, but they didn't seem funny anymore. This was him. The monster who killed his mum and dad. The reason he grew up without parents, watching other kids get hugged by their parents while he didn't get to have them.

His hands clenched into fists. The clowns looked silly with their rainbow wigs and red noses, but Harry could still see those red eyes underneath, cold and cruel like a snake's. He thought of the few photos he had of his parents - his dad's messy hair, his mum's kind smile. Gone forever because of the man these Boggarts had become.

Something hot and angry burned in his chest. It wasn't fair. He'd never even gotten to know them. Never got to hear his mum sing him to sleep or have his dad teach him to fly. All because of this... this thing that looked barely human.

Charlotte must have noticed something in his face because she reached for his hand. "Harry..."

But before she could finish, the clowns suddenly melted away into the shadows coating the floor. The darkness seemed to pulse, like a heart beating.

Charlotte grabbed her head with both hands, swaying. "Something's wrong," she whispered. "This feels like... Jacob?"

"Charlotte?" Harry reached for her arm, trying to push away thoughts of his parents. His friend needed help.

"I don't understand," she mumbled, staring at nothing. "Why are you telling me this?"

The chamber shuddered, stones grinding against each other. The shadows began flowing together again, building up into another You-Know-Who. But this one was different - its face twisted with very human emotions as it raised its wand...

oo0ooOoo0oo​

Note:

Harry doesn't know this, but the "Fortify Skill in Alchemy by 50%" effect applies to Potions. In Skyrim, Alchemy refers to potion-making, so it will increase his skill in that area, not Alchemy as it is known in Harry Potter. This will have some surprising effects in the future, as a well-known potion with a complete recipe increasing in potency by 50% would put him well into the territory of prodigies.

 

[Evoxius]

The new Voldemort looked different. Its face showed fear, anger, even confusion - emotions that made it seem more human somehow. But that just made it scarier.

"That's not possible," Charlotte whispered, her eyes wide. "Boggarts can't-"

The figure slashed its wand through the air. Charlotte barely managed to dive away as a sickly purple spell blasted a chunk out of the wall behind her.

"Those are real spells!" she shouted, scrambling behind a pillar. "Harry, be careful! This isn't normal Boggart behavior!"

Another spell - deep red this time - shattered the stone where Charlotte had been standing. She rolled out from behind the pillar, her wand moving in complex patterns. "Bombarda! Expelliarmus! Incarcerous!"

The spells bounced harmlessly off a transparent shield. The Boggart-Voldemort's lips curved into a cruel smile.

"We need to move faster," Charlotte muttered. Then, to Harry's amazement, she shrank and twisted until a black and white cat stood in her place. The cat darted between pillars as more spells crashed around it.

"You're an Animagus too?" Harry yelped, then had to transform himself as a jet of orange light nearly hit him. His eagle form took to the air, wings spread wide as he circled overhead.

The cat that was Charlotte paused just long enough to transform back and fire more spells before becoming feline again. "Learned it last month... trying to find... my brother!" she called between transformations.

For a few moments, they seemed to have the advantage. Charlotte was incredibly quick, switching forms to attack and dodge while Harry distracted their opponent from above. But then a cutting curse caught Charlotte mid-transformation. She crashed to the ground with a cry of pain, blood seeping through her robes.

Harry transformed back to human form and spun, kicking out to send a ring of orange fire at the Boggart. But it just raised its wand lazily. "Protego."

The flames washed harmlessly over the magical barrier. Harry frowned and took to the air again, searching for an opening. Below him, Charlotte was getting desperate...

The battle grew more intense. Charlotte transfigured chunks of fallen stone into wolves, but they shattered like glass against the Boggart's spells. She conjured a wall of steel that lasted barely seconds before being blasted apart.

"Nothing's working right!" she yelled, blood dripping from cuts on her arms and legs.

Harry saw his chance when the Boggart blocked Charlotte's Confringo with another shield charm. He transformed mid-dive, landing behind the creature, and unleashed a continuous stream of flames from both palms. The Boggart-Voldemort screamed as fire consumed its robes, revealing blackened flesh underneath.

But then it raised its wand. "Flamma Glacius!"

Harry's flames still poured out, but they no longer seemed to hurt the creature at all. A large hole in its robes showed burned skin, but the Flame-Freezing Charm had stopped any further damage.

"No fair!" Harry shouted. His fire had worked on the cursed ice, but one simple charm made it useless? That wasn't right!

Charlotte tried to take advantage of the distraction. "Expelliarmus!"

The Boggart simply leaned aside, the spell missing by inches. Then it spun, wand flashing, and Charlotte flew backwards into a pillar with a sickening thud.

"Charlotte!" Harry tried to run to her, but steel chains burst from the Boggart's wand, wrapping around him. He tried to transform into his eagle form, but the chains just shrank with him, squeezing tighter.

Forced to change back, Harry could only watch helplessly as Charlotte struggled to stand. Blood ran down her face now too. She kept fighting, but her spells were getting weaker. The Boggart was toying with her, letting her fire off spells before hitting her with new cutting curses.

"Crucio!"

Charlotte's scream echoed through the chamber as she collapsed, thrashing on the ground. Harry had never heard anyone make sounds like that before. It was worse than when Draco got hit by that dark curse in the Ministry. Somehow worse than anything he'd ever heard, even the Boggart from last time.

"Stop it!" Harry shouted, struggling against the chains. "Leave her alone!"

The Boggart-Voldemort just laughed - a high, cold sound that made Harry's skin crawl. It lifted the curse for a moment, letting Charlotte gasp for air, then cast it again. Her back arched as she screamed even louder than before.

Harry felt something inside him snap. Charlotte's screams echoed in his head, making his chest hurt and his eyes burn. He'd promised not to use his mist on Boggarts, but promises didn't matter anymore. Not when his friend was being hurt like that.

The mist poured out of him in waves, darker than he'd ever made it before. His body felt heavy and cold as more and more of his magic turned into the thick black fog. It rolled across the floor like storm clouds, reaching for the Boggart who had finally stopped hurting Charlotte.

The moment his mist touched it, Harry knew this was different somehow from the other Boggart. This Boggart, which was greatly more powerful than it was supposed to be, was now being shown its own fears. The mist seeped into it like water into a sponge.

The feedback started with tiny things. The Boggart became a worm, scared of birds. Then it turned into a mouse, terrified of cats. But each new shape brought new fears, making it change faster and faster. Fish scared of sharks. Deer scared of wolves. Dragons scared of wizards.

Harry's head started hurting as his mist got darker and thicker still. The Boggart's screams sounded wrong, like hundreds of different animals all crying out at once. It kept changing - becoming bigger things, scarier things. Giants afraid of mountains falling. Demons afraid of angels. Gods afraid of other gods.

"Harry!" Charlotte's voice barely reached him over the noise. "The shadows are moving!"

The darkness on the walls was being pulled toward the center where his mist spun around the Boggart like a tornado. The Boggart stretched and twisted, trying to become everything it was afraid of all at once. Then it turned into something that made Harry's stomach feel funny - a huge dark circle that pulled at everything around it. Not like regular pulling, but like it was hungry for fear itself.

BOOM!

The explosion knocked Harry into the wall. When he could see again, the room was different. The ceiling and half of the walls were just... gone. He could see the night sky and half a moon above them. They weren't in a room anymore - they were on the side of a mountain!

Harry could see Hogwarts nearby, but something was wrong. Dark shapes were being pulled out of the castle, flying through the air toward the black circle that used to be the Boggart. More shadows were coming from everywhere, all of them getting sucked in.

"Jacob says we have to finish this," Charlotte mumbled, crawling toward what was left of the middle pillar on which was inscribed "THE ULTIMATE SACRIFICE MUST BE MADE" on a dull plaque. "We have to die..."

Harry tore his eyes away from the growing black circle. "No!" He grabbed Charlotte's wand hand before she could do anything silly. "That's not what it means!"

Charlotte blinked a few times, looking confused. "My wand... why was I...?" She shook her head and pulled out her brother's broken wand. When she touched it to the pillar, it opened up like a door. She quickly grabbed something from inside - looked like a map and an arrow - and stuffed them in her bag.

"Harry!" She pointed at the black circle. "It's getting bigger!"

Harry saw she was right - the hungry circle was growing, pulling in more and more shadows from everywhere. "Quick! Turn into a cat! I'll carry you!"

Charlotte nodded and changed shape. Harry transformed too, carefully grabbing her cat form with his eagle talons before flapping hard to get them both in the air and far away.

From up high, Harry could see everything with his sharp eagle eyes. The sky was full of dark shapes racing toward the circle like leaves in the wind. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands.

Then suddenly, Harry felt the last bit of his mist fade away. The connection broke like a snapped string, and the hungry circle made a sound that shouldn't exist - like a scream going backwards. The dark shadows stopped flowing into it, hanging in the air for just a moment before the circle collapsed.

Harry almost dropped Charlotte as the circle crushed itself smaller and smaller, becoming a tiny dot of pure black. Then it exploded upward into a beam of darkness wider than Hogwarts itself. The beam shot into the night sky, pushing aside clouds and making the stars disappear where it touched them.

It was the biggest, scariest thing Harry had ever seen. Like someone had taken all the shadows in the world and turned them into a giant pillar reaching up forever. He could feel it pulling at him even from far away, not like regular pulling but like it wanted to eat his fear the same way he needed to eat food.

The beam stayed there for only a few seconds. Harry's wings were getting tired from fighting against its pull, and Charlotte's cat form was very still in his claws. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the beam started breaking apart. It dissolved into wisps of shadow that faded away into nothing, leaving behind a mountain that looked like something huge had taken a bite out of it.

Where the vault had been was now just a giant hole. The stone was smooth and black, like it had been melted by something incredibly hot. Parts of the mountainside had collapsed, sending rocks tumbling down toward the forest below.

Harry glided down to a nearby hill, carefully setting Charlotte down before changing back himself. His whole body felt very heavy and cold, like he'd used up too much magic. But more than that, he felt scared. Not of anything specific - just scared of how big and dangerous that beam had been. Of what might have happened if it hadn't gone away. How close he was to dying.

"We should probably tell Grandpa Dumbledore about this," he said quietly, watching more of the mountain fall into the new crater.

Charlotte changed back to human form, clutching her bag with the map and arrow inside. She looked as tired and scared as Harry felt. "Yeah," she agreed. "We really should."

"Can you walk?" Harry asked, noticing how Charlotte winced when she moved. The cuts from the Boggart's spells were still bleeding.

Charlotte nodded but stumbled when she tried to stand. "Just... give me a minute."

Harry sat down next to her, his legs feeling wobbly too. The moon was bright enough to see the damage clearly now. The crater in the mountain was huge, way way bigger than the Quidditch pitch. Parts of it were still falling in, making rumbling sounds that reminded Harry of thunder.

"I shouldn't have used my mist on the Boggart," Harry said, pulling his knees up to his chest. "I promised not to, but it was hurting you really bad. I couldn't just sit there and do nothing."

Charlotte gave him a weak smile. "I think this was different. That wasn't a normal Boggart. Did you see how it could cast spells? And..." She shivered. "And use the Cruciatus Curse?"

Harry didn't know what that curse was called, but he remembered her screams. His chest felt tight thinking about it. "Is that what it felt like? When You-Know-Who did those things to people?"

"I don't know. My parents never..." Charlotte trailed off, looking at the castle. "We should go. Headmaster Dumbledore needs to know about this."

They helped each other stand up. Harry was about to suggest flying them both back when a quiet voice behind them made them both jump.

"I believe I already do."

They spun around to find Dumbledore standing there, his blue eyes not twinkling at all as he looked from them to the destroyed mountainside.

"Now then," he said calmly, "perhaps you two can explain exactly what happened to the mountain?"

 

[Evoxius]

"You-Know-Who tried to eat me!" Harry blurted out, waving his arms. "Well, not really him, but a Boggart that looked like him and it turned into this huge black circle that tried to eat everything and-"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"What Harry means," Charlotte cut in shakily, "is that we found the Fear Vault in the Restricted Section. There was this Boggart, but it wasn't normal. It could cast real spells, including..." She shuddered. "Including the Cruciatus Curse."

Harry nodded vigorously. "It was hurting Charlotte really bad, so I used my mist even though I promised not to. But then it went all weird like the first Boggart and started eating black shadows coming from everywhere! And then it exploded and took a big bite out of the mountain!"

Dumbledore stared at the massive crater, and flicked his wand at the air itself. "Most concerning. The concentration of dark magic is... extraordinary. I fear a simple repair won't suffice."

He turned to Charlotte, his expression stern. "Miss Whitewood, bringing a child into such danger-"

"But I wanted to come!" Harry protested. "I can protect myself! Look at me - I'm not even really hurt!" He gestured between himself and Charlotte's battered form. "I'm pretty good at fighting actually!"

Dumbledore's stern look made Harry shrink a bit. "Harry, while your abilities are indeed remarkable for your age, that does not mean-"

Charlotte suddenly crumpled to the ground with a soft gasp.

Dumbledore's wand moved instantly, sending out diagnostic charms that wrapped Charlotte in gentle blue light. His frown deepened. "Miss Whitewood needs immediate medical attention. And you, Harry, will also be checked." He flicked his wand, sending a silvery phoenix soaring toward the castle.

Harry nodded meekly as Dumbledore conjured a stretcher beneath Charlotte. Then the old wizard's hand settled on Harry's shoulder, and suddenly they were wrapped in smoke, flying through the air at incredible speed. Harry gaped as he looked back, seeing Charlotte's stretcher keeping perfect pace while she lay completely still.

They slowed as they reached the castle, gliding smoothly through corridors until they reached the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey was already waiting, her expression grim as she saw Charlotte's condition.

"On the bed, quickly now," she ordered, already drawing her wand.

"Sit here, Harry," Dumbledore said, guiding him to the bed next to Charlotte's. Harry climbed up, his legs dangling off the edge as he watched Madam Pomfrey cast spell after spell over Charlotte's still body.

"I'm not really hurt," Harry said quietly. "Charlotte got the worst of it. The Boggart-Voldemort kept hitting her with spells."

"That may be true, but using that much magic at your age can be dangerous." Dumbledore sat in the chair between the beds, his blue eyes serious behind his half-moon glasses. "Your mist spell draws on both magical and… soul energy somehow. Using too much could harm you in ways that aren't visible."

Harry looked down at his hands. They still felt cold and heavy, like they were made of stone. "I know I promised not to use it on Boggarts anymore. But it was hurting her so bad, and nothing else worked. Not even my fire."

"I understand why you broke your promise," Dumbledore said. "Sometimes we must choose between what is right and what is easy. But Harry, you must be more careful. If something had gone wrong with that much magic..."

"Would I have died?" Harry asked bluntly. His instincts had been screaming at him the whole time about how dangerous the Boggart was. When it turned into that black circle, it had been more danger than he had ever felt in his life before, even more than from Grandpa himself, as unbelievable as it seemed.

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. "Perhaps. Or something worse. Magic, especially magic involving souls and fear, can be very unpredictable. That's why we have rules about such things."

Harry nodded slowly. "I think I understand. But what about Charlotte? Will she be okay?"

"Madam Pomfrey is very skilled. Miss Whitewood will recover." Dumbledore's expression grew more serious. "Now, tell me everything that happened in that vault. Leave nothing out."

So Harry did, starting with finding the entrance in the Restricted Section. He explained about the three normal Boggarts that turned into Voldemort, and the strange super-Boggart that could cast real spells. When he got to the part about his mist creating the black circle thing, Dumbledore leaned forward slightly.

"And you say it was drawing in shadows, or rather, Boggarts from the castle itself?"

"From everywhere!" Harry spread his arms wide. "Like it was really hungry for them. And then it just..." He made an explosion sound and gesture with his hands. "Boom! Right into the sky!"

"Yes," Dumbledore whispered to himself with a thoughtful look in his eyes. "The results were... rather more dramatic than I had anticipated."

"She's lucky," Madam Pomfrey said, her face pinched with worry as she worked. "Multiple dark curses, and the Cruciatus... if it had been held any longer..." She shook her head and kept casting healing spells over Charlotte's injuries.

"But she'll be okay?" Harry asked, watching the cuts on Charlotte's arms slowly close up, leaving angry red lines behind.

"She'll live," Pomfrey said. "These will scar though. Dark magic always leaves its mark. At least none hit her face."

Harry felt his stomach twist. More people getting hurt because of him. First Draco at the Ministry, Bill at the Vault of Ice, and now Charlotte. Part of him felt angry - angry that the people around him weren't strong enough to protect themselves, angry that he had to break a promise. That Harry wasn't strong enough…

"It's not your fault, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, as if reading his thoughts. "Miss Whitewood made her own choice to enter that vault."

"I know," Harry said. And he did know. Charlotte had wanted to find clues about her brother. But knowing didn't make the anger go away. It didn't stop him from wondering if maybe he should've used the mist sooner, before she got so hurt. Before that thing with the hungry circle that ate all the… Boggarts.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore. "What's going to happen now? To the mountain, I mean."

"That," Dumbledore said, "is an excellent question. One which I suspect will require quite a bit of explanation to the Ministry."

"Can't you just fix it with a spell?" Harry asked, perking up. "Like when Uncle Filius fixed my paintings after the Boggart exploded in my room?"

"I'm afraid repairing an entire mountainside is rather different from restoring a few paintings," Dumbledore said, though his eyes had regained some of their usual twinkle. "The magic that was released there has... changed things. Like drawing with permanent ink instead of pencil - you can't simply erase it."

Harry slumped back against his pillows. He understood that - sometimes when he was painting and made a mistake with certain colors, no amount of scrubbing could fully remove the stain. And this was way bigger than any painting.

"But won't you get in trouble?" Harry asked in a small voice. "Because you let me stay at Hogwarts?"

The thought made his chest feel tight. Hogwarts was his home. The professors were his family. If the Ministry people decided he was too dangerous...

"No one is taking you anywhere," Dumbledore said firmly, as if he knew exactly what Harry was thinking. "You are exactly where you belong. As for the Ministry..." He smiled slightly. "That's not something for you to worry about. I've dealt with the Ministry for longer than most of its current members have been alive."

Harry relaxed a bit at that. Grandpa Dumbledore always knew what to do. Even when things went really wrong, like with the mountain, he stayed calm. Harry wished he could be like that - not getting scared or angry when bad things happened.

"Now then," Dumbledore said, standing up. "I believe it's well past your bedtime. Madam Pomfrey will look after Miss Whitewood, and you need rest after using so much magic."

Harry waved goodbye as Dumbledore left, then sank back into the hospital bed. The ceiling above him was boring and white, but he kept staring at it anyway. His arm rose up toward it, fingers spread like he was trying to grab something only he could see.

He let out a deep sigh. The kind of sigh that felt too big for his almost-seven-year-old body.

People kept coming to him for help. Everyone treated him special because he was the Boy-Who-Lived, the baby who somehow killed You-Know... no, Voldemort. He needed to stop being scared of the name. Voldemort was just another boggart now, wasn't he?

Except he wasn't doing a very good job of living up to his title. Draco still coughed sometimes from that curse at the Ministry. Bill had needed a whole bottle of healing potion after the ice vault. And now Charlotte...

He turned his head to look at her in the next bed. The angry red lines on her arms would never go away completely. She got those because he wasn't strong enough to protect her.

He should've been able to beat that stupid boggart. He killed the real Voldemort when he was just a baby, didn't he? So why was he so weak now that he was so much bigger and older? It didn't make sense. Maybe he was supposed to be stronger, but something went wrong?

Yes, that had to be it. If tiny baby Harry could defeat the real Dark Lord, then almost-seven Harry should've been able to handle a fake one easily.

His raised fist clenched tight, then thumped against his chest. He had to practice more. Train harder. That flame-freezing charm shouldn't have worked so well against his fire. He couldn't let such a big part of who he was get stopped by one little spell.

And he definitely shouldn't have waited so long to use his mist just because of some promise. Charlotte got hurt because he was trying to be good instead of being smart. What was the point of having special powers if he couldn't use them to protect his friends?

Then there was his other power - eating dragon hearts. He hadn't even tried to find any yet! He should've asked the professors where to get some right away. There had to be dragon hearts somewhere, right? Maybe they kept some in the potions storage room, or knew where to find them.

He needed to get stronger. Much stronger. Because next time, he wasn't going to let anyone else get hurt trying to protect him.

Harry's bright green eyes darkened as his thoughts spiraled. The familiar words appeared in his mind, but these ones felt different - cooler somehow, like drinking ice water on a hot day.

[Depths of the Mind - Magic The Gathering - Iconics] – Costs 100CP, 175CP available to spend.

The path of a Wizard is study, rote memorization and learning. These qualities are innate to those who wish to practice magic. Being infused with the cooling touch of Blue Mana, your intelligence has boosted along with your memory and ability to learn. Put simply, you are quite the savant, easily worth three of your peers when looking towards solving a problem, learning three times faster than normal, and having a perfect memory barring magical interference.

This would give him what he desperately needed right now. The ability to learn faster, become stronger.

Harry didn't hesitate. He needed every advantage he could get to protect his friends. To make sure no one else ended up scarred and hurt because he wasn't strong enough or smart enough to help them properly.

Yes.

The moment he accepted, a strange fuzzy feeling filled his head, like static on the wizarding radio Aunt Min sometimes put on. Harry closed his eyes, feeling something shift and settle in his mind. It wasn't painful, just... different. Like his brain was a drawer that someone had just organized really well.

Harry opened his eyes and paused, blinking slowly. Something felt... different. His thoughts weren't faster exactly, but clearer.

He looked at Charlotte again, studying the angry red lines on her arms. Then he closed his eyes, and... they were still there. Not like a picture in his mind, but like he was still looking at them. He could count them if he wanted to. Seven on her right arm, five on her left. The longest one started just below her elbow and curved around like a snake.

That was weird. Last week when he caught that fat mouse while hunting as an eagle, he remembered eating it, sure. But the details were fuzzy. Had it been brown or grey? He wasn't certain. But Charlotte's scars... he knew exactly what they looked like without even trying to remember.

He opened his eyes again. The memory of looking at her just now was just as clear as the previous one. He didn't have to work at remembering things anymore, at least not new things. It was like his brain had gotten tired of losing stuff and decided to keep everything instead.

"This could help with training," he whispered to himself. When he practiced firebending now, he'd remember exactly how the chi felt moving through his body. Every time he got a flame to do what he wanted, he'd remember precisely how he did it. No more forgetting which way to move or how hard to push.

His paintings would get better too. He already had special talent there, but now he could remember every single detail of things he wanted to paint. All the little tricks he learned about mixing colors would stay in his head forever. He'd never forget which brushes worked best for different effects.

Even his mist would improve. He could keep track of exactly how emotional he needed to be to make different intensities of mist. How much magic it took to make shapes. Maybe he could even figure out why it went all weird with the Boggarts.

Harry felt a small smile spread across his face. This wasn't just about remembering things better. He could see patterns now, understand how different pieces fit together. Like doing a puzzle where you could suddenly see exactly where each piece was supposed to go.

"I'm going to get stronger," he promised quietly, looking at the sleeping Charlotte. "And next time, I'll protect you properly."

 

[Evoxius]

Harry woke up to early morning sunlight streaming through the Hospital Wing's tall windows. He turned his head and saw Charlotte already awake in the next bed, staring at the ceiling with a blank look on her face. Her right hand slowly traced the angry red lines that crossed her left arm.

"Morning," Harry said, sitting up in his bed.

Charlotte blinked and looked over at him. "Oh. Good morning, Harry." Her voice was quiet, almost distant. She went back to examining her arms, twisting them to see how far the scars extended.

"Does it still hurt?" Harry asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Not really. Just feels... strange." Charlotte's fingers kept tracing the marks. "They go all the way down my legs too. Madam Pomfrey says they won't fade much more than this."

Harry felt that familiar twist in his stomach. "I'll find a way to fix them! There has to be some kind of magic that-"

"Dark magic scars can't be healed, Harry," Charlotte cut him off, finally meeting his eyes. "It's just how it works. Even really powerful healers can't fix them."

"But I could-" Harry started excitedly, thinking about how he might get an offer that allows him to heal her in the future. Then he stopped, mouth still open.

Wait.

He shouldn't tell her about that, should he? His new, clearer mind pulled up faded memories of conversations with Grandpa Dumbledore. All those careful questions about where his powers came from. The way Grandpa's eyes had looked when he mentioned Occlumency lessons to protect Harry's mind.

There were bad people who wanted to hurt him. People like the Death Eaters of Voldemort. If they knew about the offers...

"You could what?" Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I... I'll figure something out," Harry said, less enthusiastically this time. "Even if it takes a really long time. There's got to be a way."

Charlotte snorted. "You're sweet, Harry. But you don't need to fix everything. Sometimes things just... happen."

Before Harry could argue, Madam Pomfrey bustled in with her wand already drawn. She cast a few quick diagnostic spells over Harry, nodding to herself.

"Well, Mr. Potter, you're free to go. Just some minor bruising, nothing serious. Though I expect you to come straight back if you feel dizzy or sick." She gave him a stern look that reminded him of Aunt Min. "Miss Whitewood needs rest, so off you go."

Harry slid off the bed, but hesitated. He didn't want to leave Charlotte alone. "Can I come visit later?"

"After lunch," Madam Pomfrey said, already moving to check Charlotte's bandages. "And only for a short while, mind you."

Harry dragged his feet as he left the Hospital Wing. For once, he didn't feel like flying. His new clearer thoughts made him want to just walk and think about everything that happened. The hallways were oddly quiet this morning, with only the occasional portrait whispering as he passed.

Through the tall windows of the second floor corridor, he spotted what looked like half the school gathered on the grounds below. Of course they'd want to see it - the mountain that got eaten by the mist-powered super-Boggart.

Harry pushed open one of the windows, letting the cool morning air rush in. The crowd's excited chatter drifted up, along with pointing fingers aimed at the damaged mountainside. The crater looked even bigger in the daylight, a massive bite taken out of the rocky face.

He transformed into his eagle form and launched himself through the window, riding the morning heated air up into a lazy circle above the gathered students.

A flash of pink hair caught his attention. Tonks was standing with Chiara and Penny near the edge of the crowd, gesturing dramatically as she talked. Harry tucked his wings and dove down, landing carefully on Chiara's shoulders with a gentle grasp of his talons.

"Morning Harry," Chiara said without looking up, clearly used to him doing this by now. "Come to see what everyone's fussing about?"

Harry bobbed his eagle head in response, watching the other students point and gossip about the mountain. Some thought it was a failed experiment from the Department of Mysteries, others claimed a dragon had blasted the mountainside in rage. None of them were even close to guessing that a seven-year-old boy and his friend had accidentally amplified an empowered Boggart that exploded.

He settled more comfortably on Chiara's shoulder, careful not to dig his talons in too deep. Grandpa Dumbledore would handle the Ministry people. Harry knew better than to say anything that might make things harder for him.

"I heard Professor Kettleburn say it happened last night," Tonks was saying, her hair shifting through worried shades of blue. "Late into the night. But none of the teachers will tell us what really happened."

"Maybe it was something from the Forbidden Forest?" Penny suggested, chewing her bottom lip. "There are all sorts of dangerous creatures in there."

Harry shifted his weight on Chiara's shoulder, watching more students trickle out of the castle to gawk at the damaged mountain. His new perfect memory kept replaying the moment when the Boggart-circle had exploded, taking a huge chunk of rock with it. It felt weird at times, being able to remember every single detail so clearly now.

"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks said, reaching out to scratch his feathered head. "You've been awful quiet up there. Usually you're chirping away at us."

Harry just clicked his beak in response. He'd never been very good at lying, and something told him it was better to stay quiet than risk saying something wrong.

After a few more minutes of listening to wild theories about the mountain (someone suggested it was gnomes with explosives), Harry spread his wings and took off. He needed to talk to Aunt Min about something important anyway.

He found her in her office, grading papers with that strict frown she always wore when marking essays. Harry landed on her desk, careful not to disturb the neat piles of parchment.

"Good morning, Harry," she said without looking up.

Harry transformed back, nodding as he settled into the chair across from her desk. "Good morning. Um, Aunt Min? Could you help me with something?"

She set down her quill, giving him her full attention. "Of course. What do you need?"

"Well..." Harry pulled out his Hero's Journal from behind his back. "I want to keep this with me all the time, but I'm worried about dropping it. Could you maybe conjure me a belt or something to hold it?"

McGonagall studied the leather-bound book for a moment. "You know," she said slowly, "we might as well make a trip to Diagon Alley. I could use a break after all this..." She waved vaguely toward the window. "Albus won't even tell me what really happened with that mountain."

Harry tried very hard to look innocent as she continued, "A conjured belt would work, but if you want something properly secure for your journal, we should get you a proper magical holder. The shops in Diagon Alley have excellent enchanted equipment."

"Really?" Harry perked up. "Can we go now?"

McGonagall's lips twitched into a small smile. "I suppose my marking can wait. Though I must ask - why is this journal so important to you?"

Harry clutched the book closer. "It's... a special gift from Grandpa. Like a friend that helps me remember things." It wasn't exactly a lie. The journal did help him remember stuff, just not in the normal way.

"Very well," McGonagall said, standing up. "Let me send a quick message to Albus, and then we can use my Floo."

McGonagall waved her wand, sending a quick silvery cat to Dumbledore. "Come here, Harry. You remember how to use the Floo?"

Harry nodded eagerly. "Step in, speak clearly, keep my elbows tucked in, and don't breathe in the ash!"

A pinch of powder, a flash of green flames, and they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry brushed some soot off his black robes while McGonagall cleaned them both with a quick spell. The pub was mostly empty this early, with just the bartender wiping down the counter and a witch in her thirties sleeping in the corner.

The brick wall parted at McGonagall's wand, revealing Diagon Alley before them. Harry loved seeing the street like this, peaceful and quiet before the usual crowds arrived. McGonagall held his hand firmly while they strolled through the street.

They passed Ollivanders, its dusty window display showing a single wand on a faded purple cushion. Harry really couldn't wait to get his own wand, he would be so much stronger than he was now. But no matter how much he had begged in the past, he'd been told to wait until he was eleven years old. He'd be ancient by then, but he had to listen…

The white marble of Gringotts caught the morning sun, making Harry squint. Two goblins stood guard at the bronze doors, watching everyone with suspicious eyes. Harry looked at them curiously - they were nothing like the house elves at Hogwarts. Where house elves lived to help wizards with everything, goblins only helped with money and gold. It seemed weird to Harry that they'd pick just one thing to be good at. Maybe they weren't smart enough to learn other stuff like the house elves could?

"Aunt Min," Harry whispered as they walked past. "How come goblins only do banking? Wouldn't they be more useful if they helped with other things too?"

McGonagall's grip on his hand tightened slightly. "That's not a appropriate way to think about magical beings, Harry. Goblins have their own culture and choose their own path. They aren't here to be useful to wizards."

Harry frowned, not really understanding but noting her tone meant he shouldn't ask more questions about it right now. They turned down towards the South Side of the alley, where the fancier shops were. A sign reading 'Twilfitt and Tattings' hung over their destination, the gold letters gleaming in the morning light.

Harry followed McGonagall into Twilfitt and Tattings, where polished wooden floors gleamed under floating crystal lights. The air smelled like new leather and expensive cloth. Display cases lined the walls, showing off fancy bags and belts that sometimes moved on their own.

A pretty young woman in dark blue robes stood near the entrance, arranging a display of furry scarves. She turned as the bell chimed, and her face lit up with recognition.

"Professor McGonagall! What a lovely surprise!"

"Miss Ellis," McGonagall said warmly. "How wonderful to see you. Still keeping up with your Transfiguration, I hope?"

"Of course! The techniques you taught me have been invaluable for altering clothing patterns during my apprenticeship at Twilfitt and Tattings." Miss Ellis smiled, then glanced down at Harry. Her eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my- is that- Harry Potter?"

"Hello," Harry said politely, already bored with the familiar reaction. He'd seen it hundreds of times by now - the wide eyes, the hand over mouth, sometimes even squeals of excitement. At least Miss Ellis wasn't trying to touch him like some people did.

"We're looking for something to hold Harry's journal," McGonagall said, steering the conversation away from Harry's fame. "Something sturdy and practical, with good protection charms."

Harry tuned out their discussion of materials and enchantments, looking around the shop instead. Everything was neat and organized, unlike Madam Malkin's cluttered shop down the street where he got his robes last time they were in the Alley. The leather items caught his attention - belts that adjusted themselves, bags that could hold more than they showed, and even a pair of boots that promised to keep your feet dry no matter what.

"What about this one?" Miss Ellis held up a green leather belt with black clasps. "It's Welsh Green dragon hide, very durable, and it has basic protection against water and tears."

Harry shook his head. "It needs to be special," he said. "The journal's really important."

He didn't add that it was because the journal was bound to his soul, or that it had powerful enchantments on it. Some things were better kept secret, even from nice shop assistants who used to be Aunt Min's students.

"Hmm." Miss Ellis tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, we do have something rather special in the back. One moment."

She disappeared behind a velvet curtain, returning with a black leather belt that seemed to shine slightly in the light. "This is made from Hebridean Black dragon hide - quite rare. It's got some serious protective enchantments woven in."

Harry stepped closer, running his fingers over the smooth surface. The leather felt warm, almost alive under his touch. He noticed little details - how the silver buckles were shaped like tiny dragons, how the stitching formed subtle patterns that he didn't recognize.

"The enchantments include protection against fire, water, and basic tampering," Miss Ellis explained. "There's also an anti-theft charm that makes it impossible for anyone but the owner to take any pouches, books or whatever you put on it away. And see this?" She pointed to a small silver disc on the side. "That's a shrinking charm trigger. Touch it twice and the whole thing shrinks down to pocket size."

Harry glanced at McGonagall. "What do you think, Aunt Min?"

McGonagall examined the holder carefully. "The craftsmanship is excellent. Though I expect the price reflects that quality."

Miss Ellis nodded eagerly. "It's normally 114 galleons, but for Harry Potter..." She clasped her hands together. "I could bring it down to 80 galleons."

Harry frowned at that. He didn't like when people changed prices just because of who he was. That was about thirty percent off, which seemed like way too much just for being famous.

"We'll pay the full price," McGonagall said firmly, giving Harry's shoulder a gentle squeeze. She must have noticed his discomfort.

"Oh, but I insist-" Miss Ellis started.

"The full price," McGonagall repeated sternly. Harry smiled up at her, grateful she understood.

Miss Ellis nodded quickly and rang up the full price. McGonagall counted out the galleons while Harry picked up the dragon hide belt, running his fingers over the smooth leather.

He wrapped it around his waist, the belt hanging loose until it suddenly shrank with a soft whisper of magic, fitting perfectly.

Reaching behind his back, Harry summoned his Hero's Journal and the familiar leather-bound book appeared in his hands, but then he stopped, not quite sure what to do next. The belt didn't have any obvious places to store the book, and he didn't want to do it wrong.

"Um, Miss Ellis?" Harry looked up at her. "Could you show me how to put my journal on?"

Miss Ellis crouched down beside him, her blue robes pooling on the polished floor. "Of course! Here, let me show you." She gently took his hand that was holding the journal. "You just need to press it against where you want it to stay, and think about keeping it there. The magic will do the rest."

Harry followed her guidance, pressing the journal against his right hip while thinking really hard about wanting it to stay put. There was a small click, and the journal settled firmly against the belt.

"Perfect!" Miss Ellis beamed at him. "And when you want to take it off, just touch it and think about letting it go. Try it!"

Harry touched the journal, thinking about picking it up, and it popped right off into his hands. A huge smile spread across his face as he tried attaching and removing it a few more times. This was brilliant - no more worrying about holding it to get the enchantments to work. He quickly got out his pouch from his inner robes and pressed it to his left hip until it too let off a click.

"Thank you," Harry said to Miss Ellis, still grinning as he gave the journal one final pat where it rested against his hip.

"Goodbye, Miss Ellis!" Harry waved as they left the shop, the little bell chiming behind them. The morning sun had risen higher now, warming the cobblestones as more shoppers began filling the alley.

A thought that had been bubbling in his mind since getting the "Devouring the Heart" offer finally spilled out. "Aunt Min, how much does a dragon's heart cost?"

McGonagall made a funny sound, somewhere between a laugh and a cough. "Around seven hundred and fifty galleons for a common breed. The rarer ones can go for over a thousand."

Harry's eyes went wide. That was a lot more than his new belt! He'd been hoping maybe they could get one or two so he could get stronger, but... "Does Hogwarts have any? In the potions storage maybe?"

This time McGonagall did laugh, a warm chuckle that made her stern face soften. "Merlin's beard, no, Harry. Dragon hearts are far too expensive for the school budget. Even if we had them, they'd be saved for extremely important potions." She looked down at him curiously. "What brought this on? Have you been reading about dragons in the library again?"

Harry shrugged, trying to look casual even as he thought of another way to get a dragon heart. Could he trade something valuable? But what did he have that was worth hundreds of galleons? Nothing really…

"Just wondering," he said finally. "Since we got dragon hide for my belt. Made me think about what else you can get from dragons."

McGonagall patted his shoulder. "Well, if you're interested in dragons, perhaps we should visit the bookshop before heading back? I'm sure there are some age-appropriate books about them."

Harry nodded eagerly. Even if he couldn't get a dragon heart right now, he could at least learn more about them. His perfect memory would help him remember everything he read, and maybe he'd find another way to get what he needed. And he'd never get tired of reading about dragons, they're amazing!

 

[Evoxius]

---Two Months Later, August 1987---

Harry soared over Hogwarts grounds, his wings catching the warm August updrafts. Below him was the newest addition to the castle's features - the Still Lake. Unlike the Great Lake with its gentle waves and occasional tentacle sightings, this body of water remained perfectly motionless, like black glass reflecting the sky above. Even on windy days, not a single ripple disturbed its surface.

All of the animals had taken to avoiding this part of the grounds entirely. Harry had watched from above as even the bolder creatures of the Forbidden Forest would approach, only to turn away at the water's edge. The house elves whispered that fish introduced to the lake would disappear without a trace within minutes.

Harry banked around for another look at the Still Lake. Last month, he'd watched from the Astronomy Tower as a group of Ministry wizards in fancy robes spent days working on the crater. They'd created a small stream that connected to the Great Lake, filling the massive hole with water. The weird part was how the water just... stopped moving once it settled, no matter how much wind there was.

Nobody had come to ask him or Charlotte about what really happened. Whatever story Grandpa Dumbledore told them must have worked - probably something complicated and boring that made the Ministry people not want to ask too many questions. Adults were like that sometimes, they'd accept a boring answer over an interesting truth.

At least the Boggarts were gone now. The Black Circle had sucked up every single one in the castle before it exploded. No more students running scared from their worst fears popping out of closets and cabinets.

Harry turned away from the lake, trying not to think about how empty and wrong it felt. Even his eagle instincts didn't like flying over it. Time to practice his firebending instead - that always made him feel better.

Harry landed near the Whomping Willow and transformed back, brushing some dirt off his robes. Two months of practice had taught him a lot about firebending, especially since his perfect memory let him remember exactly how each move should feel. It was like drawing - once you got the lines right once, you could do it again and again.

He started with the basics, creating a small flame in his palm. Before, it had been a tad difficult to control precisely how big or small the fire was. But after spending hours feeling how the chi moved through his body, like little rivers of energy, he could direct it better through more precise physical motions. The chi paths felt like warm threads running from his stomach to his hands and feet.

"Okay," Harry mumbled to himself, "let's try the new stuff."

He closed his fist and concentrated, mixing normal fire with the solid kind he'd discovered long ago. A bright orange whip extended from just under his closed hand, moving like a real rope made of flames. He'd figured out that using too much solid fire made it stiff and using too much normal fire made it fall apart. Getting the mix just right had taken lots of tries.

The Fire Whip cracked through the air as Harry guided it in a figure-eight pattern. The practice target the house-elves found (an old training dummy from somewhere in the castle) took the hit right across its stomach, leaving a deep black scorch mark on the metal armor.

"Now for the hard part," Harry said, crouching down like he'd practiced.

The Shield of Fire was trickier. He had to pool the chi at his palms, like gathering water in his hands, then push it out in just the right way to make a wall of very solid flames. It worked against the rubber balls Uncle Filius charmed to fly at him during practice, but it made him tired really fast.

Harry swept his hand forward, feeling the familiar strain as the chi gathered and pushed outward. A semicircle of orange-red flames followed behind his hand, flickering but holding its shape. He managed to keep it up for twenty seconds before letting it fade away, his arm trembling slightly from the effort.

He sat down on the grass to catch his breath, thinking about how far he'd come. The basic moves were easy now - making sparks, punching out Fire Jabs, even the incendio-like Fire Stream that used to tire him out. The Fire Lash and Blazing Rings had taken longer to master, but he had perfected them and didn't have to waste any energy when using both techniques.

"At least the chi mapping helped," Harry muttered, rubbing his arms where he could feel the warm paths of energy. It had been boring work, moving slowly through the firebending forms for hours just feeling how the energy moved inside him. But now he knew exactly where to direct the chi for each move, like following a map he'd drawn himself.

After practicing until his muscles ached, Harry headed to the library. Madam Pince had given up trying to shoo him away from the first-year sections, especially since he was far more careful with the books than most students. He'd already memorized and comprehended most of the standard first-year curriculum, though it felt hollow without being able to practice.

Harry slumped in his chair, chin propped on his hand as he stared at the diagrams showing wand movements. The swish and flick pattern for Wingardium Leviosa looked simple enough - he could trace it perfectly with his finger thanks to all his drawing practice and it was figuratively engraved into his memory. But what did it feel like when magic flowed through a wand? Was it similar to how chi moved during firebending, or completely different?

"It's like having all the ingredients but no cauldron," he grumbled, thinking of the potions books he'd read. He understood what each spell was supposed to do, how to say the words properly, and where to point the wand. But without being able to feel the magic, he couldn't know if his understanding was right.

The books talked about "magical intent" a lot, especially in Charms. You had to really want the spell to work, to picture what you wanted to happen. Harry thought he got that part - it was like when he painted, how he had to see the picture in his mind before deciding to put it on paper. But the books never explained how it felt when the magic actually happened.

He flipped to the chapter on the Unlocking Charm, Alohomora. The theory said it worked by magically manipulating the lock's mechanism. But did the magic push the pins directly? Did it make them weightless so they'd float into the right position? The book didn't say.

"Maybe that's why they make us wait until we're eleven," Harry said quietly to himself. "Because we wouldn't understand how it feels until then?" But that didn't seem right - he could feel and control chi just fine, and his mist spell came instinctively. Why would wand magic be that much more difficult?

He closed the book with a soft thump. Reading about spells without being able to try them was starting to feel like watching other kids fly on toy brooms while being stuck on the ground. He knew all the rules of Quidditch too, but that didn't mean he could play Seeker.

"Ah, there you are, Harry."

Harry looked up to see Grandpa Dumbledore approaching his table, midnight blue robes swishing softly against the floor.

"The enchanted bracelet has been remarkably quiet these past months," Dumbledore said, sitting down across from Harry. He smiled as he eyed the pile of textbooks. "Particularly since the incident with the vault. I believe you're ready for the next stage of Occlumency training."

"Really?" Harry perked up, immediately closing his book on unlocking charms.

"Indeed. Would you walk with me to my office?" Dumbledore stood up, gesturing toward the library exit.

As they walked through the quiet corridors, Harry noticed Dumbledore seemed deep in thought. When they reached the gargoyle guardian, Dumbledore murmured "Sugar Quills" and led Harry up the spiral staircase.

The office looked different than usual - two large purple cushions sat on the floor where the chairs normally were. Harry settled onto one while Dumbledore lowered himself onto the other with surprising grace for his old age.

"Now Harry, I've been considering your request about the dragon hearts," Dumbledore began gently.

"And?" Harry leaned forward eagerly.

"I don't believe it would be wise to pursue that particular path right now."

"But why not?" Harry couldn't keep the whine out of his voice. "It would make me stronger! I could protect-" He cut himself off, face flushing.

Dumbledore sighed softly. "You already have quite a lot to manage with your fire magic, mist spell, and now Occlumency training. Adding unknown powers from eating… dragon hearts of all things would be unnecessarily dangerous."

Harry slumped back on his cushion. They'd had this conversation before, but it still frustrated him. He wanted to argue more but knew it wouldn't change anything.

"Speaking of training," Dumbledore continued, clearly changing topics, "your new eidetic memory will have interesting effects on your Occlumency practice - both helpful and challenging."

"Challenging?" Harry frowned. "How could remembering things better make it harder?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Well, think about it - when I ask you to empty your mind, you now have perfect recall of every thought and memory. It's rather like trying to clear a large library versus a single bookshelf. More books to put away, especially if they're not well organized."

"Oh." Harry hadn't considered that. "And since I remember everything so clearly now..."

"Exactly. It's harder to achieve the emotional distance needed when memories remain crystal clear. However," Dumbledore raised a finger, "we're fortunate that your perfect recall only began after receiving this gift. And you've shown remarkable stability these past two months - partly due to your enhanced intelligence, I suspect, but mostly because of what happened in the vault. You found a new purpose there, didn't you?"

Harry felt his cheeks warm and nodded slightly, thinking of Charlotte's scars.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "And there are benefits too. Your perfect memory will help you maintain specific mental shields once you learn them. You'll be better at organizing your thoughts, and more aware if someone tries to tamper with your memories. Though," he added thoughtfully, "the advanced techniques of hiding specific memories will come much later..."

"Now then," Dumbledore reached into his robes and pulled out a small wooden box, "you've made excellent progress with the first Foundational Phase of Occlumency. Your mind-clearing exercises have become quite consistent, and you've maintained admirable emotional control."

Harry straightened up on his cushion, proud but trying not to show it too much. The breathing exercises and meditation had been boring at first, but they got easier and easier the more he did them until it was nearly effortless to clear his mind of thoughts.

"Does this mean we're done with the white room practice?" Harry asked.

"Indeed. You're ready to begin the Control Phase." Dumbledore opened the box, revealing a thin red bracelet. "This next step will be more challenging. When someone tries to enter your mind, it can feel very... uncomfortable if they're not subtle. Like a stranger walking into your bedroom without knocking."

Harry wrinkled his nose at that thought. He didn't like it when people came into his room without permission at all, even the house elves who cleaned it.

"To defend against this," Dumbledore continued, "you need to stay calm even when your mind is under attack. This alchemically-processed bracelet will help us simulate that."

"What does it do?" Harry leaned forward to get a better look at the red band.

"It creates mental static - like the fuzzy noise you sometimes hear on wizard wireless sets, but in your mind. The timing will be random, and you'll need to stay calm when it happens." Dumbledore held up the bracelet. "If you manage that consistently, it will gradually increase the strength of the static. Once you can remain peaceful even during the strongest interference, you'll be ready for the next phase."

Harry reached for the bracelet, then hesitated. "Will it hurt?"

"No, not at all. Though it may feel quite strange at first." Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. "Think of it like learning to swim - at first the water feels odd against your skin, but eventually you get used to it."

That made sense to Harry. He'd felt the same way about his chi paths during his first couple of months of firebending practice - weird and tingly at times until he got used to them. He held out his wrist and let Dumbledore fasten the red bracelet where his blue mind-clearing one used to be.

"Remember," Dumbledore said as he stood up, "the goal isn't to fight against the static. Just let it happen while keeping yourself calm, like watching clouds pass overhead."

Harry nodded, already wondering what mental static would feel like. He hoped it wouldn't be too distracting - he still had painting practice later, and he wanted to try a new technique with watercolors.

"Shall we test it?" Dumbledore asked, pulling out his wand.

Harry took a deep breath and nodded again. "I'm ready."

 

[Evoxius]

"I'm ready," Harry said, watching Dumbledore raise his wand toward the bracelet.

But before the Headmaster could tap it, Harry felt that familiar shift in his awareness. His eyes darkened as the words formed in his mind, clear as crystal:

[Three Hun and Seven Po - Chinese Mythology] – Costs 0CP, 175CP available to spend.

The dualism of existence is seen in all things, and this is all the more evident in the soul. A soul in this mythos is divided into two main parts, the hun and po. The hun is the ethereal/yang soul, tied to consciousness and existing independently of the body. The po, also known as the dense/yin soul, governs and is tied to the function of one's physical vessel. The effects of possessing this combined soul is twofold. Your mind is no longer affected by the ills and failings of your body, for it is divorced from such by the hun. Your body's condition is now affected by the state of your po, or physical soul; a healthy soul will help maintain your physical vessel in its prime condition, barring the interference of outside forces.

"Grandpa," Harry said quickly, "it's happening again. Another offer."

Dumbledore lowered his wand immediately. "What does it say exactly?"

Harry recited the words appearing in his mind: "Three Hun and Seven Po, from Chinese Mythology. It costs nothing, and I have 175 CP left." He paused, and then continued. "It talks about souls being split into two parts - hun and po. The hun is like... the thinking part that exists separate from the body, and the po is connected to the physical body. If I take it, my mind won't be affected by what happens to my body, and having a healthy soul will help keep my body healthy too."

Dumbledore's usual composed demeanor cracked. His mouth fell open slightly, and for once he looked genuinely shocked rather than just mildly surprised. The reaction made Harry nervous - he'd never seen his grandfather figure look so startled before.

"Could you... repeat that description one more time?" Dumbledore asked carefully, holding a hand against his forehead. "Word for word, if you can."

Harry did so, his enhanced memory making it easy to repeat the exact phrasing. As he spoke, Dumbledore sank back onto his purple cushion, looking thoughtful and slightly troubled.

"This is extraordinary," Dumbledore said finally. "The ancient Chinese wizards wrote extensively about the hun and po souls, but most modern scholars dismissed their work as metaphorical rather than literal." He stroked his beard, lost in thought. "To think they might have been right all along in some fashion..."

"Is it dangerous?" Harry asked, remembering how quickly Dumbledore had warned him away from the zombie offer.

"No, quite the opposite," Dumbledore said slowly. "If I understand correctly, this would grant you a form of protection that most Chinese wizard-scholars spend many decades trying and failing to achieve through meditation and study."

"Will it interfere with the Occlumency training?" Harry asked, fiddling with the red bracelet on his wrist.

Dumbledore leaned back on his cushion, considering the question. "Most likely not. Even if this 'hun soul' separates your mind from physical limitations, it shouldn't put your thoughts out of reach. The mind would still be there to protect, just... less bound by bodily constraints."

Harry nodded slowly. He could grasp the concept - it wasn't that his mind would float away or become untouchable, it would just work independently of things like being tired or hurt. Like how his eagle form could still think clearly even when the brain was clearly not that of a human. This hun soul actually resembled the Animagus transformation quite a bit, in fact, but on a more permanent basis…

"Should I take it then?" he asked, looking up at Dumbledore. The offer still hung in his mind, clear and waiting for his choice.

"Yes, you should take it," Dumbledore said softly. "From what I understand, it will only be beneficial."

Harry nodded and accepted the offer. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then he felt it - a deep, intense sensation starting in his chest and spreading outward. It wasn't painful like when he first got his chi paths, but it was strong. Like someone was carefully restructuring his entire body from the inside out.

The feeling moved through him in waves. His chi paths, which he'd mapped so carefully over months of practice, suddenly felt different. Stronger. Where before they'd been like small streams of warm energy, now they felt solid and stable, like channels carved in smoothened stone. The energy flowing through them changed too - becoming denser, more refined.

"Something's happening with my chi," Harry told Dumbledore, his voice quiet with concentration. He held up his hand, wanting to test this new feeling.

Harry focused on the simple exercise he'd done hundreds of times before. He started by gathering energy below his heart, where the main warmth lived. He guided it down his arm, following the path he knew led to his palm. Usually this took careful control to keep the energy flowing smoothly, but now it moved like water through a perfectly carved channel.

When the energy pooled in his palm, Harry noticed another difference. The chi felt more... complete somehow. More perfect. He let it spark into flame above his hand, and his eyes widened at what he saw.

Instead of the usual orange flame, a bright blue fire hovered over his palm. It was hotter - he could feel that immediately - but also more controlled. The fire didn't waver or flicker like normal. It stayed perfectly steady, like a bright blue star floating above his skin.

"Amazing," Harry whispered, quickly understanding what had happened. The improved chi paths meant better energy flow, and better flow meant hotter, more efficient flames. It was like upgrading from a rickety old Cleansweep Four to a brand-new Comet 260 - everything just moved more smoothly and powerfully.

But before Dumbledore could say something, Harry felt another shift beginning. He closed his eyes, focusing inward on the strange new sensations flowing through him.

The refined chi paths from his Po Soul were just the start. Something else was happening, something deeper and harder to grasp.

A sudden warmth at his hip drew his attention - the Hero's Journal was reacting. The leather-bound book grew warm against his side, then seemed to lose physical substance. Harry felt rather than saw it dissolve, flowing into him like water soaking into soil. But that wasn't quite right either. It wasn't flowing into his body, but into something else. Something that felt vast and ethereal, yet was undeniably him.

His Hun Soul, he realized. The part of him that thought and dreamed and existed beyond mere flesh. The Journal wasn't just bound to him anymore - it was becoming part of his very essence.

The enchantments that had been placed on the Journal before he entered the Vault of Fear shifted and changed. He could feel them integrating into this deeper part of himself, like paint mixing with water until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. The protections against poison and disease, and the resistance to magic - they weren't just enchantments anymore. They were innately part of him, flowing from his Hun Soul into his Po Soul and finally into his physical body.

Harry paused when what he'd assumed was Alchemy twisted and revealed itself as an affinity for Potions instead, this talent settling exclusively into his Hun Soul as a crystallized drop of knowledge.

And there was more. The Journal's ability to record and hint wasn't gone - it had evolved. Instead of just writing in a book, Harry could feel gentle nudges in his mind. It resembled having a friend tap your shoulder to point something out, except the friend was part of your soul and the shoulder was your thoughts.

When the transformation settled, Harry opened his eyes and held out his hand. The Hero's Journal appeared in his palm, solid and real. But he knew better now. This wasn't the real Hero's Journal - not anymore. The true Journal lived in his Hun Soul, and this book was just how it chose to show itself in the physical world.

A warm certainty rose up, confirming his understanding. This feeling had a distinct flavor to it - not his own thoughts, but the Journal's way of saying yes.

Harry opened his eyes once more and looked at Dumbledore, wondering how to explain what had just happened. How could he describe feeling his own soul split and reform? How could he put into words the way the Hero's Journal had become more than just an enchanted soul-bound book, but had rather become an innate part of him?

"The Hero's Journal changed," Harry said, running his fingers over the leather cover. "It's not just a book anymore. It's... part of me now. Like how being an eagle isn't just something I do, it's something I am."

Dumbledore leaned forward on his cushion. "What do you mean, my boy?"

"Before, it was like having a special book that only I could read. Now it's more like..." Harry scrunched up his face, trying to find the right words. "Like having another part of myself that can give me hints. And all the special enchantments put on it, they're part of me too now."

He closed his eyes, focusing on the new sensations. "I can feel them. The protection against poison and disease, and the magic resistance - they're not just spells on a book anymore. They're mixed into my soul." He opened his eyes and looked at Dumbledore. "Both parts of my soul. The hun and the po."

"And your firebending?" Dumbledore gestured to Harry's hand, where traces of blue flame still flickered.

"It's better now. Stronger. The chi paths feel different - more solid." Harry demonstrated by creating another small blue flame. "See? The fire's blue now because the energy flows better. I had already mapped all of my chi paths before, but I can feel now that my control had still been lacking."

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "This is quite remarkable, Harry. These changes seem far more involved than any of your previous... gifts."

"And what did it feel like, Harry? The soul transformation?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward with undisguised curiosity. His blue eyes sparkled behind his half-moon spectacles.

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Kind of like... when you're drawing and you can see the picture in your head, but then you actually start putting it on paper and it becomes real? Except instead of drawing, it was like something was drawing me. Making me more... me."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up. "You can actually feel both aspects of your soul?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "but I think it's because of the Journal and my chi paths. The Journal went into my hun soul - the thinking part. And my chi paths feel like… a reflection of my po soul - the body part. So I can feel both of them changing and working."

He shifted on his cushion, trying to put his thoughts in order. "Plus, I think I can feel them because they just changed. Like how I learned to map my chi paths because I didn't have them before. If I was born with chi, it would just feel normal, and I wouldn't know what was chi and what wasn't."

"A remarkably astute observation," Dumbledore said softly. "Most wizards who study soul magic spend decades trying to achieve such awareness of the soul."

Harry shrugged. "It's like when you get new shoes. At first you really notice them because they feel different from your old ones. But after a while, you stop noticing them at all. I can feel my souls right now because they're new and different, though I feel I won't forget because of my perfect memory…"

"Speaking of noticing things," Harry said, bouncing a bit on his cushion, "can we try the bracelet now? I want to see if the bracelet will work after this transformation of my soul!"

Dumbledore chuckled at his enthusiasm. "Are you certain? This has been quite an eventful afternoon already."

"Yes!" Harry looked at the red bracelet on his wrist in anticipation as the wand came closer and closer.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, tapping the red bracelet with his wand.

At first, nothing happened. Then Harry felt it - like someone had poured static noise directly into his head. Not painful, but very strange, as if trying to think through many thoughts at the same time. His first instinct was to fight against it or push it away.

But he remembered Dumbledore's advice about letting it happen. Harry took a deep breath and tried to stay calm, letting the static buzz through his thoughts without resisting it.

That's when he noticed something interesting, though not unexpected. The static seemed to only affect his hun soul - the thinking part. His chi paths and physical sensations remained clear and unchanged. It was like having noise in an upstairs room while the downstairs stayed quiet.

"I can feel where it's affecting me," Harry said, keeping his voice steady despite the weird sensation. "It's only in my hun soul, not the po soul."

"Hmm," Dumbledore leaned forward. "The bracelet was designed to create general mental interference. The fact that you can distinguish which aspect of your soul it affects suggests your new dual-soul nature is already providing benefits."

The static grew stronger, becoming more like a loud buzz than gentle white noise. Harry focused on his breathing, remembering his meditation practice. He could do this. Just stay calm and let it pass...

After about a minute, the static faded away. Harry blinked a few times, adjusting to the sudden quiet in his mind.

"How did that feel?" Dumbledore asked.

"Weird," Harry said honestly. "But not as bad as I thought it would be. It's easier when I can tell exactly where it's happening instead of it just being all mixed up in my head."

Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "Shall we increase the intensity and try again?"

Harry straightened up on his cushion. "Yes please!"

Dumbledore tapped the bracelet again, and this time the static hit much harder. Where before it had been a gentle buzz, now it felt like thousands of voices all speaking at once, creating a deafening roar in Harry's hun soul.

He tried to stay calm, to let it pass over him like before, but the sheer intensity made it impossible to focus. His thoughts scattered like startled birds, refusing to settle. Even with his perfect memory, he couldn't hold onto a single clear idea - each attempt at concentration shattered under the overwhelming noise.

"I- I can't-" Harry stammered, his hands gripping the cushion tightly. His po soul remained steady, chi paths flowing smoothly, but his hun soul felt like it was drowning in chaos.

"Breathe, Harry," Dumbledore's voice came from somewhere far away. "Remember, you don't need to fight it."

But Harry couldn't find the calm center he'd maintained before. The static was too loud, too overwhelming. It was like trying to meditate in the middle of a thunderstorm. His mind, recently so clear and precise, felt muddled and confused.

Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, Dumbledore tapped the bracelet again and the static vanished. Harry slumped forward, breathing heavily.

"Well," Dumbledore said gently, "I believe we've found your current limit."

"That was..." Harry shook his head, trying to clear the lingering echoes of chaos. "It was overwhelming."

"Indeed. Having separate souls may help you identify where the interference occurs, but it doesn't automatically grant immunity to its effects." Dumbledore conjured a glass of water and handed it to Harry. "This is why we practice - to gradually build tolerance to such mental intrusions."

Harry took a sip of water, noting how his hands were still slightly shaky. "At least my po soul stayed stable. My chi paths didn't get disrupted."

"A significant advantage," Dumbledore agreed.

Harry nodded, already thinking about how to improve. "Can we try again? Maybe if I start with meditation first..."

Dumbledore held up a hand. "I think that's enough for now. Remember, Harry - the goal isn't to master everything at once. Progress takes time, even with your remarkable gifts."

"But-"

"No buts," Dumbledore said firmly, though his eyes twinkled. "Besides, I believe you have a painting session scheduled with Professor McGonagall this afternoon? It would be a shame to miss it because you've exhausted yourself with Occlumency practice."

"My session with Aunt Min is the day after tomorrow at 2 PM," Harry corrected automatically. "Though I suppose I could use the free time this afternoon to practice capturing what the static felt like in my sketchbook."

"An excellent idea," Dumbledore said, standing up and vanishing the purple cushions with a wave of his wand. "Sometimes expressing these experiences through art can help us understand them better."

He was already imagining how he'd capture that chaotic feeling on canvas - maybe with swirling patterns in greys and silvers, or abstract shapes that seemed to change when you looked at them...

"Thank you, Grandpa," Harry said, getting up and heading toward the office door. He paused with his hand on the handle. "Do you think... do you think my parents would be proud? Of how I'm learning all this?"

Dumbledore's expression softened. "Without a doubt, my boy. Without a doubt."