Young Celestial Wizard [Celestial Grimoire, Harry Potter]

[Sagittarius]

Congrats, Harry! I thought you were going to discover lightning bending, but it turns out you've discovered star bending instead! Why blast your enemies with Zeus's wrath when you can unleash the power of the sun instead?

On a more serious note, I'm quite enjoying the slow pace of this story and the fact that you're taking the time to explore how each perk shapes and synergizes with another. It's quite enjoyable and exactly why I read these kinds of stories—especially the slower ones that take the time to build up. Keep up the good work, and I'm excited to see what Harry learns next!

 

[Zentoraus]

I think I got it and didn't get anything throughout all of that. Which is probably thematic.

 

[einargs]

Mixing in a bunch of Greek and medieval philosophy and mysticism into the existing daoism was perfect. Extremely fun to read.

I love the way you made even the language perk significant and interesting.

 

[Dromuthra]

I loved this chapter! I would also really like to see Harry get exposed to some muggle science at this point to see what happens.

 

[Evoxius]

"Did you sleep well?" Nicolas asked the moment Harry came downstairs for breakfast. The elderly alchemist was practically bouncing in his armchair, reminding Harry more of an excited child than someone who'd lived for centuries. "Would you like to practice with that fascinating flame of yours?"

Harry nodded, though he felt slightly uncertain. He still wasn't sure what the silver-white fire could actually do. The perfect sphere had been beautiful, but was it useful?

"Have some breakfast first," Perenelle called from the kitchen, giving her husband a fond but exasperated look.

Once Harry finished his small portion of eggs and toast, Nicolas practically dragged him toward what appeared to be a solid wall. As they approached, the stones rearranged themselves to reveal a narrow staircase leading down.

"Always good to have a proper testing chamber," Nicolas said casually as they descended. "Especially when experimenting with new forms of magic."

The stairs went down for quite a while before opening into a large circular room with grey stone walls. Scorch marks and odd-colored stains suggested many experiments had taken place here over time.

"Now then," Nicolas said, pulling out a notebook and quill. "Could you create that perfect sphere again? Just like yesterday?"

Harry closed his eyes, remembering how it felt yesterday when everything clicked into place. The way his chi moved in perfect circles, how his Hun and Po souls worked together, and that special point in his core where everything met but also began.

It was easier now. Like remembering how to ride a toy broom, his mind (Hun) and body (Po) knew what to do.

When he opened his eyes, there it was - a perfect sphere of silver-white flame floating between his hands, neither hot nor cold. It didn't flicker like normal fire, just stayed perfectly still while somehow moving all the time.

Nicolas approached carefully, wand extended. He muttered several detection spells, each one making different colored lights appear around the sphere. His eyebrows rose higher with each spell.

"This is... peculiar," Nicolas said, lowering his wand. "There's no magic here at all. Not a trace." He peered at Harry curiously. "You mentioned chi yesterday. Could you explain what that is? Albus didn't give me many details about your... special abilities."

Harry thought for a moment, trying to put complicated ideas into simple words. "It's like... energy that moves through special paths in my body. When I got my firebending power, these paths appeared. And when my soul split into Hun and Po parts, the paths got better at moving the energy around."

Nicolas nodded his head, scribbling in his notebook. "And this sphere - how does it relate to chi?"

"Well..." Harry looked at the perfect sphere floating between his hands. "Normal fire uses up chi when I make it. Like fuel. But this doesn't use anything up. It just... is."

Nicolas leaned closer, his quill scratching rapidly across the notebook. "And you created this by understanding multiple philosophical frameworks at once?"

"It's hard to explain," Harry said, watching the silver-white sphere hover between his hands. "Yesterday when we were talking about Greek philosophy, I noticed how similar it was to what I learned about chi and souls. Like they're different maps showing the same mountain from different sides."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "My chi normally moves in spirals, and when I make normal fire it uses up that energy. But when I understood how Love draws things together while Strife pushes them apart, it reminded me of how Yin and Yang work. Then I realized my Hun soul and Po soul follow the same pattern - one wants to be free, one wants to stay grounded."

The sphere pulsed gently as he spoke, its light neither casting shadows nor reflecting off the stone walls.

"And there's this special point in the middle of my chi core," Harry continued. "It's like... imagine a wheel. The rim moves, but the center point stays still. Or like zero in math - it's nothing, but it's also the point where positive and negative numbers meet. When I found that point inside me and understood how all these different ideas were saying the same thing, this happened."

As if responding to his completed explanation, the perfect sphere suddenly collapsed. It didn't explode or fade - it simply broke apart into tiny sparks that vanished before they could fall, leaving no trace behind.

Nicolas was writing furiously in his notebook. "The temporary manifestation of quintessential principles through multi-framework understanding..." He looked up from his note-taking. "Could you make another one?"

Harry nodded, though he felt slightly tired. Not from using chi - the sphere hadn't used any except for the initial 'ignition' - but from the mental effort of keeping the sphere stable.

"Let's try something simple first," Nicolas said, pulling out a feather from his pocket. He tossed it toward the newly formed sphere.

The feather passed right through, completely unaffected. Not burned, not frozen, not even slightly disturbed.

They spent the next few hours testing various materials and spells. Water droplets passed through it. Fire spells ignored it. Even Nicolas's attempts to contain it with advanced magical barriers proved futile - the sphere simply existed, acknowledging neither matter nor magic.

"Maybe if we..." Harry trailed off as the sphere collapsed again, this time dispersing into his usual blue flames before fading away. He created another one, but this sphere imploded almost immediately, vanishing with a soft pop.

Nicolas paced around the testing chamber, muttering to himself. "The philosophical mercury should act as a bridge between states... unless the antimony principle interferes with the transformation sequence..."

"It's not doing anything," Harry said, frustration creeping into his voice. "What's the point of understanding all these different ideas if the flame just sits there?"

"Patience," Nicolas replied, though he looked equally puzzled. "Even negative results tell us something. Notice how it breaks down differently each time? Sometimes inward, sometimes outward, sometimes into sparks..."

He stopped pacing suddenly, staring at the latest sphere as it dissolved. "Wait a moment... what if..." He ran his fingers through his wild hair, eyes widening. "What if we're seeing an incomplete transformation?"

Harry created another sphere, watching it hover perfectly until it too broke apart. "What do you mean?"

"In alchemy, true quintessence only comes after a series of transformations. The first stage is called Nigredo - the Black Phase. It's a breaking down of the material into its primary constituents."

He pointed at the dissolving sparks. "What if these aren't failures? What if the sphere keeps breaking down because it's trying to reach that first crucial stage?"

Harry looked at his hands where the latest sphere had been. "So it's supposed to fall apart?"

"Not fall apart exactly," Nicolas said, excitement building in his voice. "Transform. Everything must be broken down before it can be rebuilt into something greater."

The elderly alchemist grabbed another notebook from his desk. "We might be witnessing the first steps toward true quintessential transformation, but getting stuck at the threshold of Nigredo..."

"Wait," Harry said, interrupting Nicolas's excited rambling. "Maybe that's why I keep getting tired. I've been trying to force the sphere to stay perfect."

Nicolas stopped flipping through his notebook. "Yes? Go on."

Harry created another silver-white sphere between his hands. This time, instead of maintaining its form through careful balance of his understanding, he simply let it be.

Harry let the silver-white sphere hover between his hands, no longer trying to force it into perfection. The moment he released that mental grip, the sphere began to waver. Instead of fighting to maintain its form like before, he watched with curiosity as it started to collapse.

"Should I try to-" Harry began, but Nicolas shook his head.

"Let it happen," the alchemist said softly. "Sometimes we learn more from what goes wrong than what goes right."

The silver-white fire sphere pulsed once, twice, then imploded with more force than any previous attempt. But instead of dispersing into sparks or fading away, it condensed into a single point of absolute darkness - a perfect black dot floating in the air where the silver-white sphere had been.

Harry felt a strange sensation, not quite cold but more like the absence of temperature itself. The black dot seemed to drink in the light around it, creating a small sphere of stillness in the air.

"Extraordinary!" Nicolas breathed, approaching carefully. "Do you feel that? The complete absence?" He waved his hand near the black sphere, watching as it remained perfectly stationary. "It's not moving at all - not even gravity affects it."

Harry reached toward the black sphere, finding it easier to maintain than the silver-white version. It felt natural, like it wanted to exist this way. "It's not using up so much effort to maintain either," he noted.

Nicolas rushed to his workbench, returning with an armful of leather-bound books. "This is exactly what Alchemy is about! The first stage of the Great Work - nigredo, the blackening." He flipped through pages excitedly. "Look here - Egyptian papyri speak of the void before creation, the Greeks wrote of chaos before order..."

While Nicolas rambled about ancient theories, Harry decided to experiment. He created some of his fear mist and sent it toward the black sphere, curious how they might interact. The mist, usually so responsive to his control, began slowly drifting toward the dark point on its own. As it touched the sphere, the mist simply... disappeared.

"Sir," Harry called, interrupting the alchemist's excited monologue. "Watch this."

He created more mist, and they both observed as it was steadily drawn into the black sphere, vanishing without trace or effect.

"Of course!" Nicolas slapped his forehead. "The prima materia in its raw form - it reduces everything back to its fundamental nature. This mist... what exactly is it made of?"

"Magical energy and some power from my soul, I think," Harry said. "Grandpa said it was similar to ghost stuff."

Nicolas nodded vigorously. "Then this sphere might be burning it back to pure potential - the state before energy takes form." He scribbled rapidly in his notebook. "The frustration and failure weren't problems at all. They were necessary steps!"

Harry looked at the black sphere with new understanding. All this time he'd been trying to maintain that perfect silver-white state, when the real breakthrough came from letting it break down naturally. Like how a seed had to crack open before it could grow.

"Mr. Flamel," Harry said, watching the black sphere continue to absorb more mist, "you mentioned this is just the first stage? What comes after?"

Nicolas looked up from his notebook, eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Ah yes! The Great Work has four primary phases. This black stage, Nigredo, represents breaking down - like how a plant must rot before its nutrients can feed new growth."

He pulled another book from the pile, opening it to show Harry a four circular diagrams. Each showed a bird in different colors - black, white, yellow, and red.

"After Nigredo comes Albedo - the white phase. It represents purification, like washing away impurities to reveal what's underneath. Then Citrinitas, the yellow stage, brings illumination and understanding. Finally, Rubedo - the red phase - creates something entirely new and perfect."

Harry studied the diagrams, noticing how each bird seemed to be eating the previous one. "So each stage builds on the last one?"

"Exactly!" Nicolas began pacing, gesturing with his hands. "Think of how a butterfly transforms. First the caterpillar dissolves into black goo - Nigredo. Then it rebuilds into white tissue - Albedo. The yellow chrysalis forms - Citrinitas. Finally, the red and gold butterfly emerges - Rubedo!"

The black sphere pulsed slightly as Harry considered this. "Could we try moving to the next stage?"

"We could certainly try, though-" Nicolas started, but Perenelle's voice interrupted from the stairway.

"Perhaps after a trip to Paris?" she suggested warmly. "You've both been down here for hours, and young Harry should see more of France than just our house."

All three paused when the black sphere flickered, its perfect darkness wavering for a moment before collapsing. Instead of disappearing cleanly like the silver-white sphere had, this one shattered outward in a spray of dark liquid that splashed across the stone floor. The liquid writhed for a few seconds like living ink before evaporating into an acrid smoke that smelled faintly of burnt metal.

"Ah," Nicolas said, not sounding particularly disappointed. "That would be an incomplete transformation. The material wasn't ready to progress beyond the Nigredo stage." He pulled out his notebook again, jotting down observations. "Notice how it tried to maintain cohesion even after breaking down? Fascinating..."

Harry looked at the slightly scorched spots where the liquid had landed. "It felt different at the end. Like it was fighting against itself."

"That's exactly what happens when we try to rush the stages," Nicolas explained, kneeling to examine the scorch marks. "The substance must fully complete its dissolution before it can begin purification. Otherwise..." He gestured at the marks. "Well, you saw what happens."

"Are there any stages beyond the four you mentioned?" Harry asked, looking up from the scorch marks.

Nicolas straightened up from his examination of the floor, brushing off his knees. "Well, the Philosopher's Stone itself is considered a product of the final Rubedo stage. You can see this superficially in its deep red coloring." He paused, stroking his chin. "But something beyond these four stages? In all my centuries, I haven't discovered such a thing."

"But couldn't there be different versions of Rubedo?" Harry asked. "Or maybe something that goes beyond it completely?"

Nicolas settled into a nearby chair, his expression thoughtful. "There are indeed different expressions of the Red Stage. Very few alchemists achieve it even in minor parts through different paths, resulting in varying properties. But something that surpasses Rubedo in all aspects?" He shook his head. "That remains theoretical."

Harry nodded, but he thought back to what his Hero's Journal had mentioned in his own perspective when he first received the firebending offer. It had mentioned other forms - airbending, earthbending, waterbending. The memory sparked a new thought.

"If quintessence is supposed to be perfect," Harry said slowly, "can it really be true quintessence if it's just fire?"

Nicolas leaned forward, interest sharpening his gaze. "Go on."

"Well, in Greek philosophy there were four main elements, right? But I've only been approaching quintessence through fire." Harry gestured at the lingering scorch marks. "Maybe after Rubedo, there are similar phases for the other elements? Water, earth, and air? Or even fire itself?"

Nicolas fell deep in thought, his eyes unfocused as he considered Harry's question. Harry opened his mouth to say more, but stopped when his eyes darkened slightly.

Another offer was coming.

[Natural Talent - Fist Of The North Star] – Costs 100CP, 250CP available to spend.

In both body and mind you are simply better than others. You learn quicker and remember more while your physical training is more effective, showing improvements in less time and making gains faster. It isn't much, perhaps just 1.1 times what you should have, but for someone with drive even that small edge can be an overwhelming advantage in the long run.

Harry accepted without hesitation. Any advantage, no matter how small, could mean advancing his knowledge at a quicker rate. A brief tingling sensation passed through him as both his Hun Soul and Po Soul shifted slightly, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what had changed.

Harry shook his head, clearing away the lingering feeling. "Should we go to Paris now?" he asked, noticing Perenelle still waiting patiently by the stairs.

"Yes, yes," Nicolas said, though his eyes remained distant. "But we'll certainly revisit this discussion, young man."

 

[Endorfinator]

BTW you have 2 chapter 25s

 

[Evoxius]

BTW you have 2 chapter 25s

Click to shrink...

Thanks, fixed the typo.

 

[Sesparra]

This is… really good, loving the philosophy of it all and how Harry is really just a kid under it all.

I wonder if he'll get more fun trueforms at some point?

 

[Evoxius]

Before leaving, Perenelle insisted Harry change into his best robes - which admittedly weren't very impressive compared to what he'd seen some people wear at the yearly gathering at the Ministry. Nicolas disappeared upstairs and returned looking like a completely different person. His centuries-old appearance had transformed into that of a distinguished gentleman in his late forties, silver hair neatly styled and face carrying just a hint of dignified wrinkles. The only trace of his true age was a slight stiffness in his movements, as if his body wasn't quite sure how to be young again.

"Self Transfiguration?" Harry asked, remembering hearing about it from some of the older students a year ago.

"Human Transfiguration," Nicolas corrected with a slight smile. "More permanent than other options, though it does take some getting used to. It's only superficial, so it's not something people can rely on for too long. Especially not Perenelle and I…"

Perenelle joined them moments later, her ancient appearance replaced by that of an elegant blonde woman. Like her husband, there was something slightly off about her movements - too precise, too careful.

They gathered around the fireplace, and Nicolas handed Harry a pinch of golden Floo powder. "We'll be going to Place Cachée."

Harry had used the Floo network before, so he threw in the powder and spoke clearly. The flames turned a brilliant green, and he walked into a space so vast it made Diagon Alley look like a narrow corridor in comparison. Sunlight streamed through enormous glass domes overhead, illuminating wide boulevards lined with numerous shops. The architecture reminded him of the paintings he'd seen of Paris, all cream-colored stone and graceful arches.

"Rather different from London, isn't it?" Perenelle said as she and Nicolas stepped out of the Floo Point behind him. "Place Cachée was built during the height of magical France's golden age. The founders wanted to make a statement."

Harry stared at the magical district, eyes wide as he tried to take in everything at once. Unlike the cramped, cozy feel of Diagon Alley with its winding paths and overlapping shops, Place Cachée felt deliberately planned. The wide streets formed a star pattern, all leading to a central plaza where a golden fountain sent streams of multicolored water dancing through the air.

"First things first," Perenelle said, placing a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "We simply must get you some proper clothes. Those robes have seen better days, and you're growing so quickly."

Nicolas chuckled. "I'll leave this in your capable hands, my dear. You've always had the better eye for fashion."

While they walked along the side of the central plaza, Perenelle pointed out various establishments. "That's Bibliothèque Mystique - they have a long history in France. And there's Jardin des Potions, where we occasionally get our rarer ingredients..."

She steered them toward a large storefront with windows that somehow showed different outfits to each person who looked through them. The sign read 'Maison Capenoir' in flowing golden script.

"Ah, Maison Capenoir," Perenelle said warmly. "We've been coming here since before young Maurice's great-grandfather took over the business. Must have been... oh, 1740s?"

A bell chimed softly as they entered the shop. The interior reminded Harry of some of the paintings at Hogwarts, with dark wood panels and mirrors that adjusted their height to perfectly frame whoever stood before them.

The shop attendant hurried forward, bowing deeply to Perenelle. "Madame, welcome to Maison Capenoir. How may we serve you today?"

"My young charge requires a complete wardrobe," Perenelle said, her hand resting lightly on Harry's shoulder. "Something befitting his station, naturally."

Harry noticed how Perenelle's fingers trembled slightly despite her elegant poise. She guided him toward a raised platform surrounded by mirrors.

"Arms out," Perenelle instructed, and Harry complied while measuring tapes flew around him. "No, no," she said to the attendant who'd brought over some sample robes. "Those colors won't do at all. Something in deep blue, perhaps? And absolutely nothing with moving patterns - we're not dressing a circus performer."

Nicolas had settled into a plush chair near the fitting area, and he pulled out a small notebook to occupy himself.

"Stand still, dear," Perenelle said, examining different fabric swatches. "The way you present yourself matters greatly in the world. Now, what do you think about this shade of grey?"

Harry sighed and tapped his foot against the wooden platform, already bored of standing still while Perenelle debated fabric choices with the increasingly flustered attendant. With a small gesture, he summoned the representation of the Hero's Journal from his Hun soul, the leather-bound book appearing in a brief flash of golden light.

He'd barely opened it to the latest entry when movement caught his eye. A girl about his height with silvery-blonde hair approached, watching him with undisguised curiosity.

"Are you starting at Beauxbatons next year too?" she asked.

"No," Harry replied, closing his journal. "I'm just visiting Paris for the day."

"Oh." She tilted her head slightly. "I'm Fleur Delacour. Are you getting fitted for school robes anyway?"

"I'm Harry Potter, and no. My… guardian just insisted I needed new clothes."

Fleur's expression shifted from friendly to skeptical. "Harry Potter? Like the Boy-Who-Lived?" She let out a small laugh. "That's not very funny. Harry Potter lives in Britain, and he's only seven. You look the same age as me, and he wouldn't even know French."

"I am seven," Harry said, feeling slightly irritated at being called a liar. "And I do live in Britain. At Hogwarts, actually. Normally."

"Right," Fleur drew out the word. "And I'm Perenelle Flamel."

Harry snorted at that, and held up his hand, letting a small sphere of blue flame float above his palm. "See?"

To his complete surprise, Fleur merely harrumphed and created her own flame - a red fireball hovering above her fingers. "What does that prove?"

Harry stared at her fire, then back at his own. "You can make fire too?"

"Of course I can make fire," Fleur said with an exaggerated eye roll. "Everyone learns that trick. It's like learning to tie your shoes."

Harry frowned, his blue flame flickering slightly brighter. Something felt off about her casual dismissal - the way her eyes kept darting to his blue flame despite her pretended disinterest. His instincts stirred, telling him she posed absolutely no threat. The familiar sensation of knowing he could easily defeat someone usually brought comfort, but this time it just made him more irritated.

"Everyone, huh?" Harry let his flame flow between his fingers. "Then you wouldn't mind showing me how you learned it?"

"It's too simple to explain," Fleur waved her hand dismissively, though her red flame wavered slightly. "Like asking how to breathe. You just do it."

The old familiar feeling crept back - the one he'd worked so hard to control at Hogwarts. The urge to demonstrate exactly how wrong someone was about their own weak capabilities. He pushed it down, but couldn't quite keep the edge out of his voice.

"You're lying," Harry said flatly. "Normal people can't make fire without wands. And they definitely can't maintain it like this."

Fleur's cheeks flushed pink. "Well, maybe you're not as special as you think you are, Mr. Pretend-To-Be-Harry-Potter."

Harry felt his temper rise further. He knew he could end this conversation instantly by proving exactly who he was and what he could do. The urge to do so prickled at the back of his mind, stronger than it had been in many months. He had done his best to put this side of him away, because he wanted the professors to be proud of him…

"Children," Perenelle's voice cut through the tension. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion without the fire? We wouldn't want to singe the new robes."

Harry extinguished his flame first, followed reluctantly by Fleur. A tall, elegant woman approached them, her silvery-blonde hair matching Fleur's.

"Fleur," the woman said with a slight frown. "What have I told you about provoking strangers?"

"But Maman, he started-" Fleur began.

"I saw enough," her mother interrupted. She turned to Perenelle with an apologetic smile. "I am Apolline Delacour. I hope my daughter hasn't caused too much trouble."

"Not at all," Perenelle smiled as she said this. "Though I must say, it's quite remarkable to see such control over her innate magic at her age."

"Yes, though some of it comes naturally to our family," Apolline said, glancing at her daughter. "But I don't believe we've been properly introduced?"

"Perenelle Flamel," Perenelle said, and Harry noticed how Fleur's eyes widened slightly. "And this is Harry Potter, who is staying with us for a short while."

Fleur's face reddened. "But... he really is...?"

"Yes, and I believe you owe him an apology," Apolline said firmly.

"Sorry," Fleur mumbled, not quite meeting Harry's eyes.

Harry shrugged. "It's fine. But how did you make that fire? I've never seen anyone else do it without a wand."

"We're part Veela," Apolline explained. "Fire comes naturally to us, though Fleur is still learning control."

The measuring tapes finally finished their work, and the shop attendant hurried off with the numbers. Apolline apologized once again, and excused herself to handle her own business, leaving Fleur standing awkwardly near the platform.

"So," Fleur said after a moment, "you really live at Hogwarts?"

"Since I was little, yeah." Harry stepped down from the platform. "Though this is only my second week in France."

"Better than Britain, isn't it?" Fleur smirked, some of her earlier confidence returning. "Beauxbatons is much nicer than Hogwarts too."

"You haven't even started there yet," Harry pointed out. "And Hogwarts is amazing. We have moving staircases and secret passages everywhere."

"Beauxbatons has gardens that sing and fountains that dance," Fleur countered, ignoring his remark entirely. "And their uniforms aren't boring black robes."

"But why do you look my age?" Fleur asked curiously, her head tilting slightly. "I thought you were supposed to be seven."

"I am seven. Probably just the way I am?" Harry shrugged, but the question made him pause. He hadn't really thought about it before, but she was right - he did look older than seven. His growth had accelerated after he had accepted the firebending offer, hadn't it? The way the chi flowed through his body, strengthening and refining... but was that the whole reason? Maybe the Hun and Po Souls had a hand to play in it as well?

Before he could think deeper on it, Perenelle returned with an armful of clothes in various shades of blue and grey. "Here we are. These should suit you nicely, Harry."

Harry met Fleur's shocked blue eyes. His vision darkened slightly, and he felt the familiar feeling of an offer approaching.

[Soothing Sunlight - Dark Souls: Covenants] – Costs 200CP, 250CP available to spend.

To stand before the Princess of Sunlight is a wondrous thing, for her very presence is a soothing balm in these uncertain times. In a physical manifestation of this metaphorical quality, you can unleash a wave of divine energy that shall heal yourself and those near you.

Harry considered the offer for barely a moment before accepting. Charlotte's cursed scars flashed through his mind - maybe this could help her.

The moment he accepted, something unprecedented happened. His Hun soul resonated with... something vast. It felt like standing in an endless cathedral built from whispered stories and candlelit prayers. Not individual thoughts or voices, but the pure distilled essence of belief itself.

Every time someone had spoken his name with hope. Every glass raised in thanks that Voldemort was gone. Every parent telling their child about the Boy-Who-Lived. All of it had left traces, like spiritual fingerprints that had slowly accumulated into an ocean of liquid light that sang in harmony with his Hun soul.

Harry's consciousness expanded outward, touching this reservoir of faith. It wasn't raw power waiting to be seized, but rather something that naturally flowed toward him. His Hun soul acted as a lens, focusing and refining this collective belief into something purer.

Meanwhile, his Po soul anchored him firmly to physical reality. Without it, Harry felt he might have dissolved into that sea of light. Instead, the two parts of his soul worked in perfect balance - one reaching toward heaven, one rooted in earth, creating a bridge between divine and mundane.

Just like how his blue flames came from balancing Yin and Yang, this new power seemed to work on multiple levels at once. The collective belief of the wizarding world wasn't just energy - it was a form of natural law, like space or time. People's faith in "The Boy Who Lived" had created something real, something that existed whether he wanted it to or not.

"Are you alright?" Fleur's voice seemed to come from very far away. "You're glowing…"

Harry barely registered Fleur's question about his glowing. He couldn't help but think back to one of the books from Grandpa he had read yesterday about Taoism. The Way that could be named wasn't the eternal Way - and this new power definitely couldn't be named in truth. It flowed like water but burned like fire, yet was neither. The faith of many thousands had crystallized into something beyond normal magic or chi.

"Harry?" Perenelle's voice cut through his thoughts. She reached for his shoulder, but before she could touch him, the power surged.

A wave of golden-white light burst from Harry's body, shining over everyone in the store. Where it touched, minor aches and pains vanished. An elderly witch gasped as the pain from an old scar melted away. The store assistant's papercut sealed itself. Even Fleur's mother's slight limp - so subtle Harry hadn't noticed it before the divine energy had touched it - disappeared.

Harry watched as the golden-white light spread through the shop, but his attention snapped to Nicolas and Perenelle. The divine energy hadn't just healed small injuries - it had found something far more deep in the Flamels.

Their disguised appearances remained unchanged, but something fundamental shifted beneath the surface. Nicolas straightened up from his chair, the careful stiffness in his movements melting away. Perenelle's hands, which had trembled slightly while holding fabric swatches, became steady.

Tears welled up in Perenelle's eyes as she pressed a hand to her chest. "The pain," she whispered. "It's... bearable."

Nicolas walked over to his wife, this time in a smooth manner for the first time since Harry had met them now that he could compare what it used to be and what it was now. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Harry saw tears in his eyes too.

"We didn't want to burden you," Nicolas whispered softly to Harry. "But these bodies... after so many centuries..." He shook his head. "Your Elixir of Life was our first real hope in a very long time. And now this..."

Harry understood then. The Flamels hadn't just been old - they had been suffering. Every movement, every breath had carried an echo of pain built up over centuries of existing far beyond their natural span. They had hidden it well, but now he could see the relief in their faces.

"We were ready to let go," Perenelle admitted quietly. "To move on to the next great adventure, as Albus likes to say. The pain had become..." She trailed off, squeezing Nicolas's hand.

"But now we have hope again," Nicolas finished. "First your Elixir, and now this blessing of light." He looked at Harry with wonder. "You truly are remarkable, young man."

The shop had gone quiet. Everyone stared at Harry, who suddenly felt very small despite his usual confidence. Fleur gaped at him, all traces of her earlier skepticism gone.

"I think," Perenelle said, wiping her eyes and summoning a smile, "we should continue our shopping another day. Perhaps we could all use some ice cream instead?"

Harry nodded, grateful for the suggestion. He had a lot to think about, and somehow, ice cream seemed like exactly the right way to do it.

oo0ooOoo0oo​

Note:

Rate of CP gain will be adjusted from 6000 to 8000 words for 100CP.

 

[Dromuthra]

Since the frequency of perk rolling seems to be a recurring problem, you might consider moving him over to a more narrative or milestone system for gaining points and/or rolls. That way you can just have new perks happen when you want them to

Also, thanks for the chapter! Seems a little stupid of him to accept a Perk in public like that, but hopefully he learns from it. Also, glad for the Flamels to get healed.

 

[Ckosacranoid]

After this last chapter I need too leave this couple of comments......

Ray, if anyone ever asks if you are a god, what do you say?

Harry looks around, sorry enough at guys, how was I to know I would become a minor god from that bloody power up that was offered to me.
Bow down before the boy who lived peons.....

 

[Sesparra]

Slowing it down more? I suppose that makes sense, more things are happening faster now.
Interesting roll tho

 

[TeVeo]

I don't think increasing the word count per CP is the best solution. You should rather limit yourself to only choosing one perk every 4 or 5 chapters or whenever you want in general.

 

[Evoxius]

Since the frequency of perk rolling seems to be a recurring problem, you might consider moving him over to a more narrative or milestone system for gaining points and/or rolls. That way you can just have new perks happen when you want them to

Also, thanks for the chapter! Seems a little stupid of him to accept a Perk in public like that, but hopefully he learns from it. Also, glad for the Flamels to get healed.

Click to shrink...

I don't think increasing the word count per CP is the best solution. You should rather limit yourself to only choosing one perk every 4 or 5 chapters or whenever you want in general.

Click to shrink...

The word for CP system gives me the most motivation, so I'll continue with that approach. I think there's no real problem with my way of gradually increasing the word count required anyway since Harry will gradually need less and less perks because he has so many ways to progress.

 

[Spellflame]

That's the first time I've seen that.

 

[einargs]

Once again, I adore the way you tie everything together.

Harry being a kid struggling with arrogance -- because he is incredibly special -- is always so much fun to read.

I love that Harry now has a very real sense of what he means to so many people. I think it will both help and complicate his struggles with arrogance. On the one hand, he literally knows how important he is to so many people, which is a great way to inflate an ego. But I also think that it could lead to an appreciation for the role as a symbol he has and a certain humbleness from understanding that.

I haven't mentioned it but I love your take on the Flamels. The idea of them having slowly accumulating pain and deciding to pass on because of it I think makes more sense. It also I think reinforces the themes of accepting death as the next adventure, because this adventure has become painful and not worth it anymore.

The Flamels have been really great when interacting with Harry too.

 

[Evoxius]

---Two Months Later, November 1987---

"Again," Nicolas said, barely containing his excitement as he watched Harry maintain the black sphere of flame. Tiny points of white light leaked from its surface like stars appearing at dusk. "Look at those motes - they're much brighter today!"

Harry focused, carefully feeding more of his mist into the sphere. Seven minutes had passed. The black sphere hung in the air of the underground testing chamber, hungrily consuming every trace of magical energy that came near it. The chamber itself, built from smooth granite blocks, hummed faintly with protective charms.

"Seven minutes thirty seconds," Nicolas noted, practically bouncing on his heels. "The sphere's surface is becoming more crystalline! We might actually witness a successful transition to the Albedo phase!"

Harry maintained his concentration but shared Nicolas's enthusiasm. They'd been at this for months now, ever since returning from the shopping trip to Place Cachée. After that… event, Harry had begged to visit Charlotte at Hogwarts and heal her cursed scars, but Nicolas had told him it was best to visit someone willing to test experimental healing first.

They had visited Nicolas's friend Jean-Paul soon after. That had been a sobering experience - while his divine healing had eased the old war veteran's pain from his cursed injuries, it couldn't remove the scars or restore his missing leg. Harry had felt the divine energy trying to purge the dark magic, but it wasn't strong enough yet. It had felt like trying to wash away dried paint with a gentle stream instead of a powerful jet of water.

"Eight minutes," Nicolas called out. More white motes were escaping now, creating a faint corona around the black flame sphere. "The energy conversion is stabilizing. Keep feeding it your mist - slow and steady."

The sphere had proven fascinating in its selective appetite. It devoured magical energy in all forms – Nicolas' spells, Harry's mist, even the energy released from an alchemical item - but couldn't touch divine energy at all. Harry figured it was because divine energy existed on a higher plane. As Nicolas had explained, it followed Aristotle's principle of like affecting like - the sphere, born from the material world even if through chi manipulated using alchemical principles, could only break down energy that operated near the same fundamental level as itself. Divine energy, being purely of the celestial sphere, remained beyond its reach.

At eight minutes and ten seconds, the sphere finally collapsed, dissolving into its usual acidic liquid before evaporating. Harry watched it fade, thinking of how the ancient Greeks viewed dissolution not as destruction but as a return to primary elements. 'Analyzing kata meros' - breaking things down to their constituent parts. Wasn't that exactly what the black sphere was trying to do to any energy it touched? Breaking, or rather, burning it down to its most basic form to progress to Albedo?

Harry finally lowered his hands, working out the stiffness in his shoulders. "That's the longest yet. And did you notice? The white motes stayed visible for almost three seconds after the collapse this time."

"Indeed!" Nicolas pulled out his notebook, already scribbling observations. "We're definitely approaching a threshold. The increasing duration, the crystalline surface patterns, the persistent motes - all signs point to an imminent phase transition. Though I admit, using your mist as the primary energy source is quite innovative. Most alchemists would insist on pure elemental forces for something like this."

Harry had discovered that his mist worked better than regular spells for feeding the sphere. Perhaps because it contained both magical energy and something of the soul, as Grandpa had theorized. The mixture seemed to resonate with the sphere's transformative nature.

"Should we try another attempt?" Harry asked, though he already knew he'd reached his limit for the day.

"No, no," Nicolas waved his hand. "Too much forcing never ends well in alchemy. Besides, we have your potions lesson to get to." He smirked slightly. "Unless you'd rather skip it?"

"Never," Harry said firmly. The past two months of almost daily lessons had been incredible. His enhanced learning speed and potions talent combined with perfect memory meant he absorbed everything near-instantly. They'd progressed from simple potions that cured boils to ones usually reserved for fifth-year students that made you smarter, stronger or transformed you into another person entirely. Every process, every ingredient interaction, every subtle color change - all permanently stored in his mind.

They climbed the stone steps from the testing chamber, and Harry couldn't help but sigh softly when he thought of his regular firebending. It seemed he had reached the natural limit in terms of instinctual guidance - seven core techniques mastered but no new ones revealing themselves.

Spark of Fire, Fire Jab, Fire Stream, Fire Lash, Blazing Rings, Whip of Fire and Shield of Fire.

If Harry wanted to learn new uses of his firebending, he felt he'd need to actually create them fully on his own. He couldn't count on the instincts gifted by the firebending offer anymore.

Did that mean Harry was worried he would get stuck from here on? Absolutely not. The quintessence flame was something he had invented on his own without any instinctual guidance, even if its combat applications were currently limited.

"Uncle Nicolas," Harry asked as they reached the main floor, where warm sunlight streamed through tall windows, "I've been thinking about practical applications for the Nigredo phase. If I could maintain it while moving, couldn't it act as a defense against charms? "

"Ah, thinking tactically!" Nicolas nodded approvingly. "Though you'd need to solve several problems first. The sphere's range is limited, its pull isn't very strong, and you'll need to be careful not to depend on its protection. Still, it's worth exploring in the future."

They passed through Nicolas's study, where books and scrolls covered every surface. The room connected to a bright conservatory where Perenelle experimented with her magical plants. Harry spotted the Singing Snapdragons they'd been cultivating - just one of many species he'd never seen at Hogwarts. Most magical plants around the castle probably ended up harvested for potions classes, with the truly interesting ones hidden away in the Forbidden Forest.

Harry perked up when he heard Grandpa Dumbledore's voice coming from deeper inside the conservatory. He wondered if Grandpa had brought news from Hogwarts…

When he recalled what happened the last time Grandpa visited, he couldn't help but snigger quietly. A week after the incident at Place Cachée, Dumbledore had arrived to find the Flamels moving with an ease they hadn't ever shown in his presence. When they explained Harry's divine healing spell, connected to the collective faith in the Boy-Who-Lived, Grandpa's usual composed demeanor had cracked completely.

"But how?" Grandpa had asked, eyes blown wide behind his half-moon spectacles. "This shouldn't be possible..."

Harry hadn't understood why Grandpa seemed so worried afterwards. The ability to refine people's faith into divine energy that he could heal people with seemed perfectly reasonable to him, especially since it might help Charlotte. The more he thought about it, the more possibilities he saw.

If people's belief in him could result in divine energy, then surely increasing that belief would make the energy stronger? Strong enough to heal cursed scars, maybe. The solution seemed obvious - he needed to be more of a hero to those too weak to protect themselves.

He had read the stories about Gilderoy Lockhart's adventures that some of the older students at Hogwarts often raved about. Defeating monsters, saving villages, that sort of thing. The Hero's Journal residing in his Hun Soul seemed to approve of this line of thinking. After all, wasn't that what heroes did? Go on adventures, face challenges, help people?

The Ice Vault incident had already given him a taste of adventure. People had talked about it for weeks afterward, though the details had gotten rather mixed up in the telling. Still, he had helped solve the mystery and it had added to his reputation, hadn't it?

Maybe the Hero's Journal would guide him to more adventures soon. More chances to prove himself worthy of people's faith in the Boy-Who-Lived. More opportunities to gather the power needed to help his friends.

But those thoughts could wait. They'd reached the spot where Grandpa Dumbledore was talking with Perenelle, surrounded by some potted Spleenwart on both sides.

The conservatory door creaked open as Harry entered. Grandpa Dumbledore turned from his conversation, eyes twinkling as he spotted Harry.

"Ah, there's my budding young alchemist," Dumbledore said warmly. "I trust your experiments are progressing well?"

"I maintained the Nigredo sphere for over eight minutes today," Harry reported proudly. "The white motes lasted longer too."

Nicolas cleared his throat. "Actually, Albus, we wanted to discuss something with you. Perenelle and I have been thinking..."

"We're planning to take Harry on a trip around the world," Perenelle cut in excitedly in a way Harry had never heard before from her. "Starting with Greece - there are some fascinating sites there that could give Harry some good memories."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up. "A world tour? But you haven't left France in..." He trailed off, looking between the old couple with growing understanding.

Perenelle's laugh was light and musical. "Yes, well, we've been rather limited in our movements for... quite some time." She touched her chest, where Harry knew centuries of pain had once been. "But now, thanks to a certain someone, we find ourselves quite capable of adventure again."

"And you needn't worry about safety," Nicolas added, wrapping an arm around his wife. "I'll divine potential threats regularly, even if it strains me. Between that and our combined experience, Harry will be well protected."

"Besides," Perenelle added with a slight smirk, "I seem to recall a certain young wizard who once insisted on traveling to Egypt to study ancient magic, despite his teacher's concerns."

Dumbledore chuckled, tugging at his beard. "I suppose I did set something of a precedent there. Though I wasn't quite seven years old at the time."

"Seven going on seventy, in Harry's case," Nicolas said fondly. "Just yesterday he was explaining to me why the efficient recipe of Wit-Sharpening Potion wastes perfectly good ingredients that could be used for other potions."

Harry felt his cheeks warm slightly. "Well, it does! If you just adjusted the proportion of Ginger Roo-"

"Perhaps we could save the potions discussion for after we've settled the travel plans?" Perenelle suggested gently. "Albus, we'd like to leave next week, if you're amenable. We can arrange regular check-ins through the phoenix books."

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully, looking at Harry. "And what do you think about all this, my boy?"

Harry didn't even have to think about it. Hadn't he fantasized for weeks now of going on adventures? He needed to go on this tour.

"I want to go," he said firmly. "There's so much to learn out there. And..." he hesitated before adding, "maybe we'll find something that could help Charlotte's cursed scars too."

Dumbledore's expression softened. "Very well. Though I expect regular letters, young man. And do try not to start any international magical incidents?"

Harry grinned at Dumbledore's last comment. "I'll write every week, Grandpa. Promise."

A burst of flame above Dumbledore's head interrupted any response he might have made. Fawkes appeared in a shower of golden sparks, carrying a letter sealed with the Hogwarts crest. The phoenix trilled a worried note that made the Singing Snapdragons stop their humming.

"Most unusual," Dumbledore murmured, breaking the seal. His eyes darted across the parchment, and the customary twinkle vanished from them. "It seems my visit must be cut short. Hogsmeade is currently being terrorized by charmed skeletons of all things."

Harry perked up instantly. This was exactly the sort of thing he'd been thinking about - a chance to help people, to be the hero they believed in. "I could help! My fire would work great against skeletons, and-"

"Absolutely not," Dumbledore cut him off. "You are far too young to face such dangers, regardless of your abilities."

"But-"

"No buts, Harry," Nicolas placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Albus, you should go. We'll keep an eye on this little troublemaker here."

Harry crossed his arms and tried not to sulk too obviously. He understood the logic - seven was young, even if he didn't feel young most of the time. But still... how was he supposed to prove himself worthy of people's faith if they wouldn't let him help?

"I'll send word once the situation is resolved. And Harry?" Dumbledore paused with a grip on Fawkes' claws. "Sometimes the most heroic thing we can do is wait until we're truly ready."

With a flash of flames, he was gone. Harry stared at the floor, wondering if being "truly ready" would feel any different than he felt right now.

 

[Sesparra]

Decent transition chapter? A little boring but meh, can't all be zingers

 

[Spellflame]

I really like this
"I seek fame to help power a spell to heal the weak"

 

[Evoxius]

Harry kept staring at the floor until Perenelle's gentle voice broke through his thoughts. "Come, let's discuss our travel plans. I've always wanted to show you the magical sites of Greece."

Nicolas settled into a plush armchair, summoning a large map that unfurled itself across the coffee table. "Athens has some magical districts hidden beneath the Acropolis. Though personally, I'm more interested in visiting Knossos - the magical section there has some of the oldest known alchemical writings."

Harry moved closer to examine the map, and his earlier disappointment was temporarily forgotten as he traced the dotted lines marking magical locations. His eyes lingered on Delphi when a familiar whisper touched his Hun Soul - the Hero's Journal suggesting something significant would happen there.

"What about Delphi?" Perenelle asked, noticing Harry's interest. "The Oracle's cave is still an important site for the divination art, even if the Pythia no longer gives prophecies."

Harry didn't want to make it obvious that he wanted to go there, so he made up an excuse. "I read that it was one of the most important magical sites in ancient Greece. Wouldn't it make sense to start there?"

"Actually, that's quite logical," Nicolas muttered, drawing circles on the map with his wand. "Delphi is perfectly positioned for a northern route through Greece's magical sites. We could continue to Thessaly afterwards..."

The Flamels started discussing logistics, and Harry felt a bit guilty for his little deception. But he needed adventures - real ones, not carefully controlled experiments in a basement. How else could he strengthen his divine healing enough to help Charlotte? The cursed scars from the empowered boggart's dark magic weren't going to heal themselves, and his current level of faith wasn't enough.

"When can we leave?" Harry asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"Well, we'll need to prepare proper documentation, arrange portkeys..." Nicolas began listing tasks on a piece of parchment.

"And you'll need proper traveling robes," Perenelle added. "The ones we got in Place Cachée are lovely, but Greek winters can be quite cold in the mountains."

Harry nodded along. The Hero's Journal wouldn't guide him somewhere without good reason. There would be a chance to prove himself there - something challenging enough to increase people's faith in the Boy-Who-Lived, but not so dangerous that the Flamels would stop him entirely. Hopefully.

---Three Days Later---

The ancient ruins of Delphi was nestled in the mountains, stone structures and fallen columns scattered among terraces that overlooked a large valley. Harry stood with Nicolas and Perenelle at the entrance to the archaeological site, momentarily distracted by something new.

Crowds of tourists milled about the ruins, their cameras flashing and voices echoing off old stone. Harry found himself frozen in place, because he was witnessing something he had never seen before in his life.

These were Muggles. Real, living Muggles, not just descriptions from books or passing mentions in conversations. Parents guided small children between columns, teenagers posed for photos, and elderly couples consulted guidebooks while wearing odd clothing - pants and shirts with no robes in sight.

What struck Harry most wasn't their strange attire, but how utterly normal they appeared otherwise. They had the same faces, same expressions, same basic movements as any witch or wizard.

"Harry?" Perenelle touched his shoulder gently. "What's wrong?"

"I've never actually seen Muggles before," Harry admitted quietly, still watching the crowds. "I mean, I've read about them, but..." He trailed off, trying to articulate the strangeness of the situation.

Nicolas and Perenelle exchanged a quick glance, and Harry could tell they hadn't considered this gap in his experience. Growing up entirely within Hogwarts' magical boundaries had left him more isolated from the non-magical world than most young wizards.

"They're just people, dear," Perenelle said softly. "Different customs and different tools, but people all the same."

Harry nodded at Perenelle's words, still watching a young girl chase pigeons between columns while her parents laughed.

"There's actually quite an extensive magical community right beneath our feet," Perenelle mentioned as they began walking along the tourist path. "We could have apparated directly there, but sometimes it's nice to take the scenic route."

They passed through groups of tourists taking photos with their cameras and guides explaining the site's history in various languages. Harry found his attention repeatedly drawn to them despite his best efforts. A teenager was showing something in a glossy tourist guidebook to his friends, while an elderly man sketched the ruins in a notebook.

The Temple of Apollo sat on the highest terrace of Delphi, though 'sat' might have been too generous a term. What remained were damaged pillars and a cracked stone floor, with small signs explaining what each section might have been.

"See that particular fissure there?" Nicolas pointed to a deep crack running through the temple floor. "When a magical person approaches it..." He walked closer, and the crack began spreading wider, transforming into smooth stone steps that led down into darkness. "Rather clever bit of enchantment, that. The moldus see nothing but shadows."

A tour group walked past them, their guide telling them something about geological formations while the magical staircase was right next to them in plain sight.

"Shall we?" Perenelle asked, already taking out her wand to cast Lumos.

Harry walked the stone steps behind Nicolas and Perenelle, watching as the entrance sealed itself behind them. The staircase wound downward in a gentle spiral, each step smoothed by centuries of footsteps.

He couldn't help but pause slightly when they exited the staircase. It was an enormous cave in which streets had been carved directly into the bedrock. Ancient Greek amphoras floated at regular intervals on both sides of the streets, each filled with flames that shone warm light. What caught Harry's attention most were the upside-down olive trees growing from the ceiling, their roots somehow growing through solid rock.

"Oracle's Way," Nicolas announced as they reached the main street. "The heart of magical Delphi."

Shop windows lined both sides of the street, most dedicated to some form of divination. Crystal balls gleamed with inner light, floating Tarot cards shuffled themselves in endless patterns, and much more.

A woman in extravagant purple robes stepped into their path, gesturing dramatically. "For just five Drachma, I can reveal your destined path-"

"No thank you," Perenelle said firmly, steering Harry past the self-proclaimed seer. "Watch out for those types, dear. The real seers don't need to advertise."

Harry nodded, noticing how for every proper-looking divination shop, several more suspicious ones crowded the street. The fraudulent seers were easy to spot - too much jewelry, too many dramatic proclamations, and far too eager to separate tourists from their gold.

"Actually," Nicolas said, "speaking of real seers - an old friend of mine runs a shop here. Haven't seen Alexandros in person for... must be forty years now. Would you mind if we paid him a quick visit?"

"The tea shop with the silver door?" Perenelle asked. When Nicolas nodded, she smiled. "Perfect. I could use a proper cup of Greek tea anyway."

They turned down a side street where competing fortune-tellers were arguing loudly about whose predictions were more accurate.

The two fortune-tellers were making quite a scene as Harry and the Flamels passed by. One woman wore enough bangles to sound like wind chimes whenever she moved, while her competitor had draped himself in so many symbols he looked like a walking gift shop.

"My dear," the woman called to a young tourist couple, "I see great danger in your future! Only I can guide you away from this terrible fate - for merely twenty Drachma."

"Don't listen to that fraud," the man cut in, pushing forward. "I am descended from the original Oracle herself. My predictions come straight from Apollo, and I only charge fifteen Drachma."

The tourist couple looked increasingly uncomfortable as the two seers started arguing over whose bloodline was more gifted. Harry watched with mild fascination - it was like seeing the opposite of everything he'd read about proper divination. These people were trying so hard to appear mysterious that they'd completely missed the point.

They soon approached the silver door of Alexandros' shop, and the difference compared to some of the gaudy decorations of neighboring establishments was… telling. No dramatic signs proclaimed amazing fortunes within, just a simple teacup etched into the metalwork.

"Those two give proper seers such a bad name," Nicolas muttered as they approached. "Alexandros once predicted a volcanic eruption three months in advance. He'd never dream of shouting about it in the street."

Harry glanced back one last time at the arguing fortune-tellers. The woman was now claiming she could see the tourist's past lives, while her competitor insisted he could communicate with their deceased relatives. The tourists had taken advantage of their bickering to slip away unnoticed.

The silver door swung open silently as they approached. A small bell chimed somewhere, though Harry couldn't spot any actual bell. At least he could heave a sigh of relief now that he wasn't forced to smell the overpowering scent of incense.

Inside was a cozy tea shop with simple wooden furniture and walls lined with shelves of tea canisters. Behind a dark-blue counter sat an elderly man who looked frail enough that a strong breeze might knock him over. His eyes, though clouded with age, widened with recognition.

"Nicolas Flamel," the man said in Greek. "I'd recognize you from anywhere, even with that youthful look you're wearing."

Nicolas laughed warmly. "Alexandros, old friend. You're looking..."

"Like death warmed over?" Alexandros finished with a dry chuckle. "No need to be polite. These old bones have served me well enough."

Harry listened to their exchange with interest, the Greek words as clear to him as English thanks to his Language Comprehension. It wasn't just the words he understood, but the subtle meanings and cultural context behind them - the way Alexandros' formal Greek carried hints of an old dialect, or how his choice of words showed respect while maintaining the familiarity of old friendship.

"And here I thought you might be losing your touch," Nicolas teased. "Shouldn't a true seer have known we were coming?"

Alexandros shook his head with an amused smile. "If I made true prophecies about every old friend dropping by for tea, I'd never get any actual work done. The Sight doesn't work on command, as you well know."

"Fair enough," Nicolas conceded. "Allow me to introduce Harry Potter. Harry, this is Alexandros, one of the few genuine seers left in Greece."

When Alexandros's gaze met Harry's, the old man's clouded eyes suddenly cleared, taking on an unsettling silver sheen. His frail body went rigid, and when he spoke, his voice carried an otherworldly resonance that made the tea canisters on the shelves vibrate:

"Through paths of light the pure one soars,
While deeper shadows line the doors.
Each gift consumed births greater thirst,
Till sweetest honey turns to worst.
When dawn-light dims to dusk's desire,
The truth lies burning in the fire."

The silver faded from Alexandros's eyes, and he slumped slightly in his chair. "Well," he muttered, reaching for a cup of tea with slightly shaking hands, "that was unexpected."
"Well, well," Nicolas let out a long sigh, "it seems the Sight does work on command after all, old friend."

Alexandros took a long sip of tea before responding. "Not on command. Never on command. But sometimes..." He glanced at Harry with an odd expression. "Sometimes the Sight has its own priorities."

"Was that prophecy about me?" Harry asked carefully. The verses tumbled through his mind, each line carrying implications that worried him. The mention of gifts particularly caught his attention – what was it referring to?

The offers? Dragon hearts? Faith? Something else?

"Prophecies are peculiar things," Alexandros leaned forward in his chair. "They show what might be, what could be, or what must be. But they rarely show why or how." He poured four fresh cups of tea, the liquid a deep amber color that smelled of mountain herbs. "Sometimes understanding comes only after events happen as they should."

Harry accepted his cup, noting how the old seer's hands had stopped shaking. "But the 'pure one' - that seems rather specific, doesn't it?"

"Purity can mean many things," Perenelle interjected gently. "In alchemy, in magic, in intent..."

"Indeed," Alexandros nodded. "Though I must say, in all my years of giving prophecies, this is one of the rare times I've had one arrive with such... certainty." He studied Harry over the rim of his teacup. "Usually they're more abstract, more open to interpretation. This one felt different."

Harry took a careful sip of the tea, letting the warm liquid settle his thoughts. The prophecy's words kept repeating in his mind, especially the part about gifts and honey turning sour.

"Well," Nicolas said, breaking the thoughtful silence, "at least it wasn't all doom and gloom. Better than that prophecy you gave in 1862 about the plague of acid-spitting locusts."

Alexandros chuckled weakly. "Don't remind me. I couldn't look at insects for months after that one."

"Let's not dwell too much on prophecies," Nicolas said, setting down his teacup. "They have a way of becoming self-fulfilling when people obsess over them. Sometimes a prophecy is just the Sight having a bit of fun."

"But-" Harry started to protest, before Perenelle touched his shoulder gently.

"Nicolas is right, dear. I've seen too many wizards drive themselves half-mad trying to interpret every little detail. It might not even be about you at all."

Harry wanted to point out that the timing seemed too convenient to be coincidence, but held his tongue. The Hero's Journal hadn't given any hints about the prophecy's meaning either.

Nicolas took another long sip before changing the subject. "How are things in Delphi lately, old friend? Still keeping the tourists from stumbling into magical areas?"

Alexandros's face fell slightly. "Actually, the past few days have been rather chaotic. Did you arrive through the Temple entrance?"

"We did," Nicolas confirmed. "Noticed quite a crowd up there."

"That's part of the problem," Alexandros sighed. "One of the ancient protective charms failed three days ago. The ones that help keep the Mangkl away from sensitive areas." He used the Greek word for Muggles naturally. "Now they're wandering into places they shouldn't, and it's causing all sorts of trouble."

Harry perked up at this, momentarily moving past the prophecy to more immediate concerns… adventure. "What kind of trouble?"

"Magical creatures have been spotted where they wouldn't normally be," Alexandros explained. "Yesterday, four Marble Serpents almost attacked a Mangkl family near the eastern ruins. If someone hadn't been there to interfere..." He shook his head. "We were lucky."

 

[Nausicaa]

Rate of CP gain is still too fast for my liking, so I'll be changing it from 4000 words to 6000 words for 100CP. It's a bit annoying to have to derail current events every 2 chapters because something new popped up.

Click to shrink...

Yeah, after lots of trial and error myself, I... abandoned the entire points-for-words system entirely for my own stories. It was too OP at reasonable word counts, and in the case of really long pauses, you could get dud perks (or be unable to buy any for a while) and have a huge chunk of story be, you know, not anything different than usual canon stuff. Or worse, the perks could just be boring power fantasy stuff instead of anything interesting.

What I'm now attempting for my own projects is more akin to normal Jumpchain rules (1000CP per universe, flat) but with extra twists, like using the wrong documents/mixing perks into a new document, or spreading out the perks after they were bought to slowly appear as the story progresses.

It's a lot easier to plan the story out properly, and also actually explore the powers fully and properly.

 

[Evoxius]

"Marble Serpents? Here?" Nicolas leaned forward with interest. "I thought they'd all gone extinct centuries ago."

Alexandros settled back in his chair with a weary sigh. "They're not the only creatures appearing where they shouldn't. We've had reports of all sorts of beasts that haven't been seen in centuries. Just last week, someone swore they saw a Nemean Cub near the Treasury."

"A living Nemean Lion cub?" Nicolas whistled softly. "That's quite a claim."

"We think there might be tunnels deep under the ruins," Alexandros continued. "Old passages that haven't been opened since ancient times. But nobody's been able to find the entrance, if it exists."

Nicolas and Perenelle shared an excited look. "If these creatures are coming out now, they must have been living somewhere all this time," Perenelle said. "And if the creatures survived..."

"Then the plants they feed on might have survived too," Nicolas finished. "Magical flora that's been extinct everywhere else..."

While the adults discussed increasingly obscure plant names, Harry quietly pulled out the representation of the Hero's Journal from his belt.

He flipped through the familiar pages, looking for anything new. Near the end, fresh words appeared in flowing script:

'Beyond the silver door lies the first step. Where every seeker's journey begins, the most forgotten path lies beneath their feet. The Oracle's first words were spoken in silence, and her last breath opens the way...'

Harry stared at the words. Something felt different about this hint - it wasn't like the usual nudges about where something might be or which direction to explore. This read more like a puzzle, almost like that time with Chiara and the Whomping Willow. Maybe he had to complete it before he had the right to go on the adventure?

The "silver door" part was obvious enough - he was sitting right behind one. And "seeker's journey" probably meant Oracle's Way outside, where all the fortune-tellers set up their shops. But what about the Oracle's first words being "spoken in silence"? That didn't make much sense. How could words be silent?

He thought back to what he'd just read in the Hogwarts library about the original Oracle of Delphi. The books said she would breathe in vapors from a crack in the earth, then speak Apollo's prophecies. Maybe that had something to do with the "last breath" part?

Harry closed the journal, and supported his head with his left hand on the table. The hint talked about things being "beneath their feet" and mentioned breathing. There had to be something about the ground outside - maybe near where the original Oracle gave prophecies?

At least this puzzle was more interesting than trying to figure out if Chiara was a werewolf from "monthly ordeal" and "violent tree." Though finding secret passages would probably be harder than following someone.

Harry raised an eyebrow when Nicolas and Perenelle both suddenly stood up from their chairs.

"We should check with the local authorities about those failing protective charms," Perenelle said, then gave Nicolas a knowing look. "Though I suspect someone just wants an excuse to investigate those creatures."

"As if you're not hoping to find some extinct magical herbs," Nicolas replied with a smile.

Perenelle laughed. "Harry, dear, would you mind staying here with Alexandros? We shouldn't be away for too long."

Harry nodded, careful not to seem too eager. This was perfect - he could investigate the journal's clue once they left.

After the Flamels left, Alexandros gestured to a door behind the counter. "There's a small library through there if you'd like to look around. Might interest you to learn about Greek magical history?"

Harry did want to learn more about Greek magic. Besides, he couldn't go solving puzzles outside with Alexandros watching. Better to wait for the right moment.

"Yes, please," he said. "I'd like that."

oo0ooOoo0oo​

Two hours later, Harry looked up from an interesting passage about ancient Greek wizards when he heard soft snoring coming from the main shop. He'd already thoroughly examined the small library for any hidden exits, finding nothing but shelves of history books about magical Greece. While the texts about fake gods and ancient prophecies were engaging, the Hero's Journal's puzzle kept nagging at his thoughts.

Setting down "Records of the Wizards of Olympus," Harry carefully stood up from his reading nook. He moved quietly into the main shop area, where Alexandros had dozed off in his chair, an empty teacup balanced precariously on the armrest.

Just as Harry reached for the door handle, Alexandros jerked awake with a sharp intake of breath. Harry froze, heart hammering in his chest.

"The locusts..." Alexandros muttered, his clouded eyes half-open. "They're in the tea leaves again..."

Harry remained perfectly still, barely daring to breathe. The old seer's gaze swept across the room, passing right over Harry as if he wasn't there. For a terrifying moment, Harry thought those eyes might clear and take on that silvery sheen again.

But Alexandros just mumbled something else about stubborn insects and shifted in his chair, causing the teacup to wobble dangerously. His eyes drifted shut, and soon the soft snoring resumed.

Harry waited another full minute before moving again. He slowly eased the silver door open just enough to slip through, wincing at the slight creak of metal. Once outside, he gently pulled it shut behind him, relieved when no bell chimed this time.

Harry had barely taken three steps onto Oracle's Way when a middle-aged woman in eye-wateringly bright robes swooped down on him.

"Such a precious child," she cooed, jingling with every movement from her countless bangles and necklaces. "Surely you'd like to know what great destiny awaits you? Only one Drachma for a full palm reading!"

Harry tried to step around her, but she moved to block his path. "…No thank you. I'm actually just-"

"Oh but I insist!" She reached for his hand. "I sense great power around you, young one. The stars themselves whisper of your importance!"

Harry suppressed a flash of irritation. Every second spent here was time wasted, and the woman's theatrical performance was becoming increasingly grating. The street was crowded with tourists and local shoppers, making it difficult to simply push past her without causing a scene.

Well, if she wanted to be dramatic...

A thin tendril of mist, barely visible in the warm light of the floating amphoras, snaked down his leg and across the stone floor. Harry had long learned precise control of small amounts of mist since even before the Boggart incident, and right now he just needed enough to make her back off.

The fortune teller had managed to grab his wrist and was turning his palm upward when the mist touched her feet. She went rigid for a moment, her eyes widening as a hint of her own fears brushed against her mind.

Harry quickly pulled his hand free and darted past her, slipping between the crowd of shoppers. Behind him, he heard her theatrical voice crack slightly as she called out, "Wait! Your destiny-"

The words were lost in the general noise of the street, and now he could finally focus on…

His eyes darkened.

[Healthy Eating - Desolate Era: The Three Realms] – Costs 100CP, 150CP available to spend.

Being one of the richest and most prosperous in Swallow Mountain means a lot of things, but what it means the most is that you also ate a lot of Diremonster meat in your childhood, which is naturally full of minerals and nutrients to help a growing child. As a consequence, the only word to describe you would be either "handsome" or "beautiful", as it is clear that you're well bred and well raised, and it even shows in your demeanor, allowing you to present a calm cool facade to anyone giving a casual glance your way.

Harry ducked into a narrow alley between two shops, leaning against the cool stone wall as he considered the offer. His first reaction was dismissal - who cared about being handsome? He had more important things to worry about, like finding whatever secret the Hero's Journal was hinting at.

But then he couldn't help but think about his divine healing. He needed people's faith to make it stronger, and fame was the quickest path to faith. Wouldn't being more handsome make it easier to become famous? People seemed to pay more attention to attractive people, after all.

Harry frowned, remembering how his previous offers had worked. The Hun and Po souls had done far more than just split his soul - they'd refined his chi paths and changed how his Hero's Journal worked. And the divine healing offer had given him access to faith that worked perfectly with his soul structure.

This offer wasn't just saying "you'll be handsome." It was saying that eating this 'Diremonster meat' from childhood would make him handsome as a consequence. What else might this meat do? If it could change someone's looks and outward demeanor, it had to be more than ordinary food.

Harry could easily brew appearance-changing potions by now, but he had never read anything about meat having such effects, let alone permanent ones. Even magical creature meat didn't work like that at all, as far as he knew.

The offer wasn't telling him everything, just like his journal never gave complete answers. But maybe that was the point - figuring out the hidden synergies was part of becoming stronger.

After checking that no one was watching, Harry stepped deeper into the alley and accepted the offer, bracing himself for whatever changes might come.

They began subtly at first. Harry felt a strange tingling sensation throughout his body, as if every cell was remembering something it had forgotten. His muscles felt denser, more refined, and his bones seemed to hum with a quiet strength he'd never noticed before. It wasn't painful, but rather... nostalgic?

The strangest part was how natural it felt. Like his body was saying "ah yes, this is how we should have been all along." His chi pathways, or rather meridians, already refined from both his practice with firebending and the effect of his Po soul, began to undergo a great transformation. It started at his chi core, but more appropriately his dantian, his core energy center, which seemed to pulse with much greater vitality. The meridians, those channels through which energy flowed and transformed, began to expand - not painfully, but with a sense of rightness, like a flower finally getting enough water to bloom properly.

The meridians themselves, which he'd always imagined as strong channels carved in stone, were becoming more like rivers. The chi that normally flowed through them like a gentle current now rushed with the force of rapids, yet somehow remained perfectly controlled. Each meridian adapted to handle this increased flow, expanding greatly in width. Yet... Harry could still remember, hazily, learning about the system of true Fiendgods/Ki Refiners. The complexity was… much greater than his own energy system just from the little he could perceive from those faded memories.

His blue flames, born from the balance between Yin and Yang, took on an even deeper azure hue. The control he now possessed was something else entirely... Almost experimentally, Harry threw a quick fire jab, watching as a perfect sphere of azure flame flew out from his fist. But instead of letting it fly forward as he usually would, he held it in place with nothing but his chi control. The fireball flew back towards him and hung suspended above his head.

He smirked slightly, appreciating how easy it felt now. Before, maintaining a flame without constant physical movement had been challenging, requiring intense concentration. Now it felt as natural as breathing. The flame responded to his thoughts with ease, neither wavering nor fluctuating in the slightest. Perhaps this was a small taste of what those elders had meant when they spoke of achieving unity between intent and action...

Speaking of that, what caught his attention now were the faded memories. Not clear ones at all, more impressions really. Of sitting at grand tables filled with Diremonster meats, of esteemed elders discussing techniques while he played nearby, of watching in awe as Fiendgods and Ki Refiners flew through the sky trailing immortal energy. The memories were indeed hazy, like trying to recall a dream, but they carried with them a understanding of power.

He remembered stories of the Primal Daoists, how they would spend centuries cultivating their bodies and souls, seeking to understand the fundamental truths of the universe. His current abilities - the firebending, the mist, even his divine energy - they all seemed like mere stepping stones compared to what those legendary figures could achieve. Yet somehow, rather than feeling discouraged, he felt... inspired?

The philosophical frameworks he'd absorbed through his language comprehension ability were also finding new context in these half-remembered lessons about cultivation and dao. Everything seemed to be connecting in new ways...

But what really struck him was how small he still felt. Even with all his abilities, even with these new memories of a privileged upbringing among powerful Fiendgods and Ki Refiners, he couldn't help but feel humbled. The feats of the Primal Daoists he half-remembered hearing about... their power had been beyond comprehension, capable of destroying immense mountains with ease. Even Grandpa Dumbledore, as powerful as he was, would have been like a candle before the sun in comparison.

Harry shuddered slightly at the thought. Perhaps it was better that he was here, where such overwhelming power didn't exist. He was still way too weak to survive in that cruel and desolate world.

 

[Aenin]

Hell yeah. I knew you were going in cultivation direction, but having Desolate Era perks makes me look forward to this story even more.

 

[einargs]

A perk from xianxia fits so well with the current developments.

People really need to do a better job of getting it through Harry's willfully thick head that he's a child and not responsible for fixing his friends or solving all the problems in the world.

 

[Sesparra]

… now I want Harry to grow up to be super stunningly androgynous cause of this perk, the prototypical Yin body as it were, especially cause of his Po soul

Mostly cause it would be hilarious, but partially because it fits the paradigm of the only dark souls god we ever meet?