AN1: There are mentioned some Marvel comics and characters from the Marvel Universe but this fic is not a crossover with it. These comics are just that, comics that Muggle children enjoyed reading in this fic, just like in our real life as well.

AN2: Keep in mind that this is a rewrite of Gorgoneion. While there would be some differences, the key points of the plot will not be changed - after all, the plot was one of the strongest aspects of the original fic. What will I rectify is mostly Harry's personality because many of my previous readers were saying he was too extreme, with anger issues. They wanted a more subdued Harry, one that would act as a real Slytherin was supposed to.

AN3: AU-ish, where Neville is the BWL. Powerful, Slytherin, grey, Harry. Not a harem but a straight OTP: Harry/Veela OC.

"Hello" - normal talk.

'Hello' - thoughts.

Chapter 1 - On Dumbledore's Radar

'There...easy, almost got it...please don't turn around!' an eleven-year-old boy with unkempt black hair and green eyes chanted in his mind while he was 'working'.

He was furrowing his brows in concentration, trying to accomplish his task. It was the middle of the summer in London and the buses on the streets were filled with passengers, each one of them tired and feeling weak due to the unusually hot weather - which was a very good thing for the boy, considering which was his line of 'work'.

With a final movement of his hand, the raven-haired boy levitated the pouch from the back pocket of an overweight middle-aged man's pants into his own outstretched right hand. Mentally patting himself on the back for his accomplishment, the boy didn't dare to stay in the bus for a moment longer than necessary. At the first stop, he jumped out of it. Then, with practised calm, he distanced himself from the bus stop with an expression of innocence befitting a child of his age... Only that he was anything but innocent. Harry Potter – that was the boy's name – was more cunning than his age let on.

Ten years ago, Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts left a one year old Harry Potter sleeping in front of his relatives' front door, in the middle of the night, at the end of October, with a letter in which he informed Petunia Dursley of her sister passing away and asked her to raise her nephew as if he were her own son. To say that Vernon and Petunia Dursley were outraged would not be an exaggeration: they did not even want to consider keeping the boy. Therefore, at just a few hours after they had read the letter, they went directly to the closest police station and reported the incident. The next few weeks were quite hectic for the Dursleys as they had to convince the Child Protection Agency that they were simply both unable and unwilling to raise another child. They already had a son, they didn't need another one.

In the end, Harry Potter was sent to one of the many orphanages of "Poor Sisters of Nazareth". On the surface, everyone thought that said organization was one of the most prestigious and trustworthy organizations in the United Kingdom, but only the children in their care knew the real truth.

Throwback to 5 years prior

"Hulk is sooo cool! I bet he'll kick Thor's butt in the next edition!" squealed an eight-year-old boy as he finished reading a magazine with comics.

"No way, Thor will definitely roast his hide with his mighty thunder!" retorted another boy with scruffy black hair and green eyes partially hidden behind a pair of round glasses.

Around them, another four or five boys took sides and then they all started to retort against each other:

"Thor is the best!"

"No, Hulk will smash his arse!"

Their shouts eventually alerted one of the nuns and, when she heard what were they shouting about, she immediately went in a state of religious fanaticism-driven anger:

"What is the meaning of this?" she screamed at them.

Seeing the angered nun glaring at them, the children gulped audibly. And they had a reason to do so if the beating that followed afterwards was anything to go by. Although the nun was very angry at the children's sin of reading the Devil's work, she was still careful to not leave them with bruises and marks in places easy to spot because the 'pagans' from the Children Protection Agency never understood that many children were acting under 'Devil's influence'. And, considering herself as one of the servants of God, she felt it was her sacred duty to rectify their behaviour.

Back in the present

As Harry walked through the crowded streets of London, he fell into one of his habits of reminiscing of the past.

'Three years have passed already, huh?'

Ever since the beating he received when he was 6, he had been dreaming of living on his own with no-one to control his life. And that dream of his has been constantly fuelled by the comics that the older children managed to smuggle into the orphanage. Comics like "Runaways" and "X-men" were the ones that had the greatest impact on his personality. Still, although life in the orphanage was very unpleasant and despite the fact that even as just a 6-year-old child he was not as childish as his peers, Harry never managed to muster enough courage to actually run away. Or probably it was exactly because his thought process was slightly more mature that he had not dared to break free.

However, all of his worries and hesitation vanished when, one day, he produced his first bout of accidental magic: it was Harry's 8th birthday and one of his friends at that time, gifted him a magazine with one of the comics that he loved the most. Although they had tried to be stealthy, the nun still discovered their actions eventually, a fact which led to another beating. But something went wrong. Blinded by her righteous rage, the nun became careless and, instead of using the leathery part of the belt to beat the children, the nun hit Daniel – that was the boy's name – with the buckle, breaking his head. At that moment, due to his state of fear, Harry's magic broke free of its shackles and he banished the nun to the other side of the room where she collapsed yelling in pain.

At first, Harry was filled with awe and excitement: all those comics he had been reading along the years had many children and teenagers with superpowers! Was he actually a mutant as well? Did he awaken the power of telekinesis, like Jean Grey from "X-men" did? But after a few moments of relishing in the happiness of finding out that he might have superhuman abilities, the realization of the consequences of his deeds dawned on him: when the other nuns learned of what had just transpired, he knew that he would be in for a royal beating. In his fear of them, he did not put it past them to crucify him or torture him in some way in order to exorcise the devil that they believed that it was possessing him.

Although the nuns weren't actually as cruel as Harry believed them to be and despite that not all of them were finding pleasure in beating the children from the orphanage, in his panicked state of mind, Harry's fear of them intensified.

To the present day, Harry could still not remember clearly the events that followed after his first bout of accidental magic. All he knew was that he had run away in a panic and that he had run away just like a naive child: he had no pocket money, no food reserves, no additional changes of clothes, nothing. But he had been just an 8-year-old child. Although his mind was a bit more mature than that of his peers', in the end, he had been too young to have had accumulated any worthwhile life experience.

The following months were very hard on young Harry. He realized then that there had been a good reason behind the orphanage's rule of not leaving the yard – the streets were not friendly with anyone, much less with the homeless people. And despite that, on the surface, London was believed to be one of the safest capitals in Europe, Harry had learned first hand that that was a little far from the truth. Especially in east London and the centre of the city, all sort of gangs were terrorizing the locals during night-time.

Maybe it was his firm belief that he had somehow become a mutant and acquired superhuman abilities, or maybe it was the fact that he was an outstanding Wizard from birth, that was not certain, but the thing was that his magic was highly responsive to his will. Despite the fact that Harry did not know that he was a Wizard and that he thought that the wandless Banishing Charm that he had used against the nun was just the power of telekinesis, in only three weeks, he got a good grasp on the Levitation Charm. Thanks to that, the number of beatings he received for getting caught stealing food began to gradually decrease until the point where, in the present, he was not getting caught at all anymore.

And today Harry could say with no small amount of pride that, in spite of not having a home of his own and no parents to take care of him and despite being just an eleven-year-old child, he had everything that he needed in order to survive. He was doing questionable things for that, but he was not bothered by it.

'Everyone is doing whatever they can in order to survive.'

His thoughts were simple:

'I have to eat, buy the clothes I need and I also have to pay up the rent at the motel. For all of these, I need money – especially for the rent.'

As he thought about the last part, the image of a half-blad old man with a wrinkled face and a crooked smile appeared at the front of his mind.

'The old money grubber!'

The owner of the shady and shabby motel where Harry lived in was very greedy. Taking advantage of Harry's situation, he demanded from him to play the double amount of money for the rent if he wanted to live there. But at the end of the day, the owner was risking having trouble with the police by renting a room to runaway children, especially when they were as young as Harry (he had been just 10 at the time when he first came there). And, if he was honest with himself, Harry did not really hold it against him.

'Just like I pickpocket from random people in the buses, he's also trying to scam me of money.'

Not for the first time that day, he said to himself:

'Life ain't easy. We're all just trying to survive.'

He knew that he was part of a vicious cycle but it was not like he had any choice in the matter. There were only 2 other options if he had to stop stealing: to either go back to the orphanage -

'I'd rather die than go back to that hellhole!' he said grimly and his hands clenched on the wallet that he had just stolen.

- or to beg for money from the strangers. But even that was not as simple as it looked. The authorities would quickly catch wind of someone as young as him begging on the streets and he would be forced into another orphanage. Furthermore, even if the police did not take notice of him, the other beggars surely would. One could not just randomly stop in a place and start begging. Beggars had their own turfs as well and were acting in small, local gangs. They did not take kindly to anyone trying to take their profit. And some beggars were more vicious than most people gave them credit. Harry knew personally one boy who had the fingers of right hand chopped off by his own parents so that his crippled hand would inspire more pity into the passers-by.

That said, Harry firmly believed that stealing was his only option. And because of his 'superpowers', he quickly became good at it. All in all, life was relatively good for Harry. Obviously, he was not living in luxury because that would have attracted unwanted attention, but, for a homeless child, he was living very well. And Harry wanted to keep a low profile because he was afraid of being discovered not only for being a runaway but also for his "mutant" powers. People believed that Marvel's comics were all just fiction for children, but he believed that he knew better than to dismiss them like that. After all, he thought he was the living proof that superhuman powers existed!

'What if there also are organizations that are hunting down my kind, like in comics?'

Somewhere in a darker corner of his mind, there was also the fear of getting caught and being experimented on by creepy scientists.

While Harry was thinking about those things, a feeling like someone was keenly watching him, suddenly washed over him. He turned his head around quickly but there was nobody behind him. Correct that: the street was just as filled with people as it always was every day, but he could not see anyone suspicious; no policemen and no thugs that would try to prey on him. Still, Harry did not lower his wariness. During the three years that he had been roaming the streets for, Harry gradually developed something akin to a 6th sense. Every time he was followed for a longer period of time or when someone nearby had ill intentions towards him, he would get the feeling he was having at this moment. In addition, ever since obtained a certain amulet all of his senses and his perception have increased dramatically.

As he picked up the pace, Harry affectionately caressed the round, palm-sized artefact that was hanging from a silver chain from his neck, under the green short-sleeved shirt he was wearing. He didn't know why but, from the very first moment he had seen this stone pendant, he had felt an inexplicable attraction to it, like it was calling for him.

'This isn't the time to reminisce.' he said to himself. He was too worried about the one following him.

Harry picked up the pace once more, to the point that he was almost running now. Then, he rushed through the crowds, trying to blend in with the mass of people and deceive his pursuer. But despite his efforts, it was to no avail. He was still feeling the gaze of his pursuer locked on him.

'I can't shake this bastard off... this guy can't be an amateur.'

Fear started to grip at his chest.

'Has the government finally got wind of me?'

The blood rushed to his face and even adrenaline began to course through his veins as he began to run at full speed.

'I've lived so well on my own...it was the best time of his life!'

'I'm not gonna let myself get caught and used as a dog of the government or worse, as some sort of rat lab!'

A plan was being formed in his mind.

'I won't hold back from anything!' the boy thought and a cold gleam appeared in his eyes.

He was no stranger to violence. Gangs were having violent conflicts for supremacy every now and then and he was witnessing almost on a daily basis people getting into altercations. He had even seen people being stabbed to death by robbers. He, himself, had had many times along the years to either run away from thugs that tried to take his money or to even retaliate against them in order to defend himself. In the last year, the local scumbags learned, however, that in spite of his age, Harry was no easy prey. He was already somewhat infamous amongst the local street rats as the 'the boy with freakish strength'. They could not have known that he was using telekinesis to empower his body when he fought or ran away.

'I'm even gonna beat them half to death if they try to stop me!' he decided grimly.

He was worried about the future too. Even if he managed to escape, he would still have to leave London – a fact that saddened him as he had grown to love the city, despite its many hidden dangers – and he would have to lay even lower for a few months until they lost his trail. That was because he had read in comics that the guys that were hunting the mutants were usually very persistent and that, most of the time, they had the ability to take down their targets despite their lack of superpowers.

Armed with that resolve, Harry continued to sprint, unmindful of the looks he was getting from the people be was bumping in. He was small and nimble and because of that he assumed that he would be able to run at a faster pace than his pursuer since he supposed that the ones that were following him not only were they fully grown-up men – which would actually hinder them while running through a crowd – but they also had to remain stealthy as to not attract the civilians' attention.

As he ran towards the East, Harry had one destination in mind: the derelict buildings from the old industrial area, especially the abandoned warehouses. It was a place normally avoided by people, but it was perfect for what Harry had in mind: not only the police rarely patrolled the area but, the last time he was there, there were also large piles of debris laying around – things that would become potentially lethal weapons in his hands.

Harry kept running for a few more minutes until he arrived at the desired destination. By the time he arrived, he was dead-tired and his green t-shirt was soaked with sweat. He was breathing heavily and he felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest at how fast and hard it was beating. Harry was used to running since he pretty much had to do it every day, but running so fast for nearly a quarter of an hour was very hard on him nonetheless.

He sat on a large concrete brick, calmed his breathing and rested. There was no point in running or panicking at the moment. He just had to wait for his pursuers to show their faces.

'It will all come down to who has the bigger fist.'

If he managed to beat up his pursuers, he would have a chance to disappear before the agents sent to hunt him could inform their superiors of their failure.

'But if they capture me...then this is it. End of the line.'

Harry clenched his hands into fists and his entire body trembled involuntarily for a second. It was the first time he had gotten himself into such a dangerous situation. Sure, he had run before from the police or from various people whose belongings he had stolen, but nobody had ever really tried to kill him before. He assumed that this time was different.

Harry brought out his treasured amulet out of his shirt and gazed at it fervently. Said amulet had a rough, circular form and it was not bigger than the palm of an eleven-year-old boy. It was made out of stone and it gave off the feeling of being ancient. Carved on its surface was a rather frightening depiction of a woman's head: the face of the woman was scrunched into a hate-filled expression and, instead of hair, she had a large number of snakes. It was a Gorgon, the head of Medusa. The Gorgon head was said in Greek Mythology to have been used as a symbol of both Athena and Zeus and people in ancient Greece had a very respectful attitude towards it.

As Harry looked at the Gorgoneion in his hands, a peculiar feeling washed over him and, before could stop himself, he spoke almost without even thinking:

"Please help me! If you do, I promise to do any one thing you'll ask me in the future!"

When he finished saying those words, Harry immediately felt stupid for actually speaking to an object. But then, to his fright, he received an answer! With morbid fascination, he watched how the Gorgon's eyes flashed with a blood red colour. Then, a wave of energy like a warm current flooded his body. It was indescribable. All his tiredness at having run so much vanished and he felt full of vigour.

It was at that moment, that a small pop was a heard and a very eye-catching silhouette appeared in front of the warehouse, seemingly out of thin air! It was a tall, thin and very old man, judging by his silver hair and beard, which were both so long that they reached his waist. He was wearing long, extravagant purple robes that swept the uneven asphalt on the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots. He had blue eyes and the half-moon spectacles from his long nose did nothing to hide their vibrant colour.

For a brief moment, Harry was stunned speechless.

'That's definitely not what I expected...'

He had been expecting to see a young, athletic man, dressed in a black suit and wearing shades, not an old man dressed as though he was a trying to cosplay Merlin. But Harry shook his head and focused.

'There's no way he's just an ordinary old man!'

Not only that he seemed to have appeared out of thin air, but also, to have kept following him at the pace he had been running despite his old age, for Harry, these were glaring signs that the man in front of him was not ordinary.

'He's prolly dressed like that to make me lower my guard and capture me more easily. But this kind of petty tricks won't work on me!' he thought condescendingly. Then, with a wave of his right hand, 3 football-sized pieces of debris were lifted from the ground and began to float in front of him. There was no need for him to hide his abilities anymore.

Albus Dumbledore's POV

He had been observing the boy's activities for the past week. With the current peace that the United Kingdom was experiencing and with Hogwarts' students being away on their summer holiday, there was not much for him to do. At his age, it was not like there were too many things he could do in his free time, except for going for a walk, read a book or listen to music. However, he had been doing those things since forever. Watching young Mr Potter's daily activities was like a fresh breath of air. For him, it was refreshing observing such an interesting boy.

It all started two weeks before when, in the students' register at Hogwarts, Harry Potter's name appeared amongst the ones that were supposed to enrol for their first year, in September. it was a name which should have normally not been there. Before James and Lily Potter's passed away, their son had been declared a squib. Many of the people close to them were filly with great disappointment and then pity for the young married couple, but the two of them ignored the other's reactions and decided to raise their child by showering him in their love, even more than normal, as to not let him ever feel as if he was being rejected by them for him not being a Wizard as well.

However, at just one year after Harry Potter's birth, the prophecy about the Dark Lord having an equal was proven to be true. Considering how the prophecy sounded, there were two boys that had the potential to become Voldemort's equal. But, with Harry Potter being declared a squib, the Dark Lord went for the logical remaining option, the Longbottoms' son. Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at the situation – since Frank and Alice were away on a patrol mission for the Order of the Phoenix, only Augusta Longbottom had been at home, taking care of little Neville, when the Dark Lord attacked.

Nobody knew exactly what happened during that fateful night of Halloween at the Longbottom Manor. But the results have certainly shaken Great Britain and not only. Voldemort vanished while the baby – who got the moniker "The Boy Who Lived" – survived with only a lightning bolt-shaped scar in the middle of his forehead. The aftermath of the events was full of celebrations and happiness. Everyone came forth to congratulate Frank and Alice Longbottom for their son, but very few of them cared enough to offer their condolences for Augusta Longbottom's death.

However, while the British Wizarding folk was celebrating, the followers of the recently vanquished Dark Lord were in a frenzy. As an act of retribution, the Death Eaters launched a series of attacks on every family that had played an important part in the war. Unfortunately, the Potters have also been amongst the ones murdered, with baby Harry Potter escaping alive only thanks to his mother who had thrown a portkey on him, effectively 'teleporting' him from the harm's way.

After the situation had calmed down, Albus Dumbledore sent Harry Potter to his relatives. It was the best and most sensible choice for him to make since the boy was a squib. That way, Harry would have not felt inferior compared to other boys of his age and he would have also not known of his parents' tragic death. What little Harry did not know could not hurt him - at least that was the Headmaster's opinion.

'Who would've thought that a squib's name would suddenly appear in Hogwarts's register as one of the children to whom I had to send an invitation letter?'

In a feat of boredom mixed with curiosity, when he deduced that although the letter had arrived at its destination, the Dursleys did not reply to it, Dumbledore decided to go speak with the boy himself instead of letting his deputy handle the things as usual.

Since Harry had been declared a squib, Dumbledore had had no interest in keeping tags on him along the years. They were not related and Harry was just a squib child. They lived in completely different worlds. Therefore, his surprise was not small when he found out that the Dursleys knew nothing about his whereabouts. It took Dumbledore nearly an entire week of serious searching and brainstorming to finally track Harry Potter down.

But when he finally found him, whatever had Dumbledore expected Harry to be, it was definitely not a would-be gangster that actively made use of magic and controlled it as if it were one of his limbs in order to pickpocket from strangers. Putting aside the matter concerning the illegality of the boy's deeds, the astonishing amount of control Harry held over his magic was mind-blowing for the old wizard. He had only seen one person displaying the same capabilities before – Tom Riddle.

At that revelation, Dumbledore decided right away to put a stop to the boy's acts and straighten his behaviour by making him willingly or not - it was not like he was actually going to give him a choice - study at Hogwarts under his watchful gaze. He was definitely not going to make the same mistake twice. He would not let another Voldemort rise because of his negligence as he had done in the past.

After running after the boy for quite a while – he had never expected Harry to feel his presence from the very moment he arrived at 100 feet away from him – Dumbledore was surprised again by Harry's resourcefulness: not only that the boy had tried to make him lose his tracks by blending in with the crowds – and it would have worked on any Muggle but all the experienced Wizards had a Tracking Charm in their arsenal of spells – the boy had also made sure for their confrontation to take place in a favourable location for him, where he could make full use of the Levitation and Banishing Charms that he had unknowingly mastered.

For his age, Harry Potter was intelligent. Dangerously so.

Back to original POV

Just as Dumbledore was about to offer Harry a gentle smile and introduce himself with kind words, the boy's actions stupefied him: with a wave of his right hand, several bricks and large pieces of concrete and began to float in front of him, serving as both shields and projectiles. That action made him realize that Harry considered him an enemy.

'But why does he? It's not like I harmed him yet, I have only followed him around...for an entire week...but he only knows about the last hour or so...'

If Harry had heard Dumbledore's process of thinking he would have probably face-palmed himself right there and right then. Even if he did not hear it, Harry would realise in the following weeks anyway, just how badly some Wizards lacked common sense.

"I'm not here to harm you," said Dumbledore rather hurriedly, before the tension between them evolved into outright hostilities. He did not want to harm the boy.

"Who are you and what do you want from me?" Harry shouted. From his point of view, the old man in front of his eyes was trying to fool him by speaking kindly in order to capture him more easily.

'A man with honest intentions wouldn't have pursued me through half the city like an assassin.' he said to himself, not lowering his vigilance in the least.

A frown marred Dumbledore's face at Harry's behaviour but he would let it slide this time.

'With his upbringing and his current state of mind, it's not like anyone can ask anything from him.'

Dumbledore was about to say something but, apparently, not having replied immediately, only made the boy even more distrustful of him. At that moment, two large slabs of concrete came at him at a very high speed and rotating with great velocity. But, instead of getting angry, the old wizard was actually studying Harry's skill with a poorly masked expression of amazement on his face.

'That degree of control over the Levitation Charm would not be easily achieved by even 2nd-year students, let alone someone his age, with no previous magical education!'

The old wizard could not stop himself from comparing the boy in front of him with Tom Riddle once again. Dumbledore was sure Voldemort had not been permanently defeated and that, one day, he would return.

'Yes, when that time comes, there will be the Child of the Prophecy, Neville Longbottom to save the day. But what if he failed?' Dumbledore mused to himself, all the while easily Vanishing the large slabs of concrete and debris that Harry was relentlessly throwing at him.

'The prophecy stated that the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal...but that means that the final outcome could go either way.'

Therefore, the question that remained was: what if the Longbottom boy failed in his task? What if Voldemort won? What would be left of Great Britain in the aftermath of his victory? Dumbledore did not want to even imagine that! And, as he watched young Harry's astounding skills (for his age), an idea bloomed into his mind.

When Harry saw how the old man in front of him was eliminating his attacks as if they were nothing, panic engulfed him and he began to lose control over his magic, finding it harder and harder to use his so-called 'telekinesis' as the time went by. In his paranoia-affected mind there was only one thought:

'They have sent another mutant after me! Everything I throw at him is useless, what should I do?!'

While Harry was getting desperate, unaware of his turmoil, Dumbledore continued to ponder on the idea that had just popped into his mind: the skill in magic that Harry was displaying was something that would make even 2nd-year students at Hogwarts feel pressured in some aspects.

'Such talent should not be wasted.'

A plan slowly took form in his mind: what if he shaped the boy to be the contingency plan for the situation where Neville Longbottom did not manage to fulfil his destiny? Glancing at Harry Potter in front of him, Dumbledore could not help but scoff at the idea of him having been born without magic.

'It's insane to even imagine that someone possessing that degree of control over his magic as a child could have been a squib at birth! Unless... Those cunning Potters!' Dumbledore mentally exclaimed in both surprise and amazement 'Have they actually purposely declared their child a squib? It would certainly make the other people pay less attention to them in the middle of the war but... it's almost as though they had known about Sybill's prophecy before it has even been made! And since Voldemort had heard as well that young Harry was a squib, he naturally went instead for the Longbottom family's son.'

'Was their baby declared a squib just them acting cautiously in a time of war? Or was it something more?'

After a few good minutes of continuously hurling debris at Dumbledore, Harry finally lost all his energy and collapsed on his fours on the ground with a thud. When his magic reserves emptied out, a sudden feeling of dizziness came over him and he could no longer stand on his feet.

Sighing in relief that he did not have to forcefully restrain Harry or worse, even hurt him, in order to be able to talk to him, Dumbledore began to approach him at a moderate pace as there was no reason to needlessly increase the boy's anxiety – if that was even possible.

Seeing the old man steadily approaching him, Harry sighed in frustration and sorrow. He pictured himself how, in a few moments, he would be killed, or worse, become something akin to a slave, one of those 'lab-rats' on whom scientists were doing experiments on, as he had often seen in comics – yes, Harry envisioned such a life as being worse than death.

Harry's thoughts were becoming darker and more sombre the closer Dumbledore got to him. But when the tension almost made Harry reach the breaking point, from the pendant he was still tightly clutching in his right hand, another warm wave emerged and he felt like he had just been engulfed into the comfortable and loving embrace of a woman. Harry didn't remember ever being held like that by anyone, but if he ever imagined how a mother's embrace felt, then, the feeling he was experiencing at that moment was the closest thing to it that he would ever get to feel. Gradually, Harry's heart calmed down and the adrenaline washed out of his system. The magical exhaustion and the physical tiredness resulted from his previous actions kicked in and his eyes closed as he fell into a blissful sleep, seemingly completely forgetting about his current situation.

AN:

(Not an English native and I have no beta either. Sorry for any mistakes I may have made)