The iron wheels of the train rumbled against the frigid steel rails, creating a methodical percussion that reverberated through the icy atmosphere. The steam's soft exhale and the relentless thud of the train reminded Harry of one of Aunt Petunia's prized pressure cookers.
The train smoothly ascended, embracing a subtle slope, its wheels clutching the tracks with unwavering resolve. In a rhythmic procession, the locomotive's mighty heart surged, propelling it skyward in an elegant waltz with the contours of the hill.
Brushing away a film of mist on the window, Harry stole a glance outside.
The hillside lay veiled beneath a pristine white shroud, its delicate snowflakes glistening like fragile gems. He found it kind of hard to believe it was the middle of June with the way snow was blowing everywhere, but he'd seen weirder things, he supposed.
"I can't believe this is finally happening," Cho said, appearing beside him. Her breath fogged up the window, and Harry fought the urge to wipe it again as the winter wonderland disappeared behind the smudge. "I'm so excited to meet my mentor in person. She's going to turn me into the best dueller ever!"
Things were moving fast for Harry. After a week of 'instruction' at the hands of Professor Flitwick, he, Harry, and Cho had embarked on their summer journey.
From the Hogsmeade station, they got on a new, shiny-looking train that was supposed to take them deep into the hills of Denmark.
Every country got its own train car. Even though Harry only had a few limited experiences with train cars, he had to admit, this one seemed pretty high-end.
The walls were adorned with intricate, floral-patterned wallpaper in shades of deep burgundy and gold. Soft, ambient light bathed the space, filtering through the lace curtains that framed the windows.
The windows themselves were tall and elegantly arched. Soft, high-backed seats with plush cushions lined both sides of the car. They were upholstered in velvety fabrics of deep green and red, with button-tufted details that added a touch of Victorian opulence.
Rowena's words, not Harry's. Harry wagered he wouldn't be able to use 'Victorian opulence' in a sentence if you asked him to.
Throw pillows, adorned with delicate lace and tassels, were scattered across the seats, which were magically heated. Overhead, brass sconces with frosted glass shades cast a warm, golden glow, creating a cozy atmosphere.
Adjacent to Harry and Cho's bench, there was a painting. It pictured a man deep in a forest, and it was enchanted. As the day unfolded, the painting subtly shifted, casting ever-changing shades upon the woodland and its solitary traveler.
The intercom crackled overhead. A grainy, monotone voice said, "We'll be arriving at our location in about thirty minutes."
"It's helpful that Professor Flitwick put that charm on the intercom," Cho sighed as she drew a smiley face on the glass. "We would've been toast otherwise."
Harry privately agreed. The train's conductor seemed to speak only the language of the country they were currently in, which seemed rather illogical for an international tournament.
Even though their actual duels were in Copenhagen, the capital, much of their training and leisure was going to be handled at the Ravnholm Skole for Trolddom og Heksekunst.
Or, in simpler words, Danish Hogwarts.
Harry heard they had a pancake bar that took up an entire floor and a gigantic whale in their lake. At least, Professor Flitwick claimed they'd had those things the last time he was here. Professor Flitwick had been with Harry and Cho for most of the ride, telling them stories about the ICW's circuit, but he'd just left the compartment for a meeting.
A smile worked on his face as Cho drew another smiley face in front of him and nudged him. His smiley face had a lightning bolt streaking down the middle. The smile died as Cho asked, "Are you excited to meet your mentor?"
"I guess," Harry replied, trying not to sound too disappointed as he answered Cho's question. He shoved his cup of tea to the edge of the table and sat back down on the cushion.
The truth of the matter was, he didn't know how to feel.
In the week of pre-tournament lessons they'd had at Hogwarts (learning basic rules, tactics, etc.) Cho's mentor had reached out to her multiple times.
The first time, a tawny brown owl nearly got sniped during a round of "dodgeball" with Professor Flitwick.
Even though Professor Flitwick was adamant that he didn't want to overstep his boundaries and teach them something beyond what their mentors would do, he still insisted on getting them started on the basis of the physical aspect of dueling.
Things like stamina, maintaining posture, and wand forms were all a part of "dodgeball," which was basically an endurance exercise where Harry and Cho were required to evade charmed rubber balls for as long as they could while holding their wands.
Both Harry and Cho started off with ten points each. Getting hit with a ball lost you a point, and dropping your wand lost you two points. The first one with no points was forced to do laps around the classroom as the last one standing was now forced to dodge double the balls.
Anyway, Cho's mentor, Aparna Devi, had taken the initiative and sent out a letter introducing herself. Harry could still remember the excited look on Cho's face as she read it out loud after one of their training sessions.
A few days later, a wonderful, hand-crafted elephant made of wood was delivered to Cho during lunchtime. Aparna had added a note, explaining how it was an Indian custom that if you see an elephant on your way to your destination, your purpose of going would be fruitful. It was believed that Lord Ganesh, the elephant God of Indian mythology, would remove all the obstacles on the way.
As if that wasn't enough, Aparna had also recommended some books and spells for Cho to look into before meeting her for the first time and sent her a few different scarves.
All the while, Harry hadn't received so much as a 'hello' from his mentor. Maybe Cho's mentor should've sent him an elephant, too. Introducing himself to Harry was an obstacle in and of itself, apparently.
[Don't take it too personally, Harry. Different people have different teaching methods. Yes, Cho's mentor is a bit more hands-on, but that doesn't mean the quality of instruction you get from your mentor will be any worse. And, in the absolute worst case, I'll simply handle your instruction myself. No harm done.]
"Don't worry, Harry. I'm sure he'll reach out soon. I wonder why it's snowing, though." Cho commented, flipping her curtain of hair. Her smile made Harry's insides squirm uncomfortably.
"I believe I can answer that," A slightly accented voice said from behind Cho and Harry, and the duo jumped. "Sorry. I did not mean to startle you both. You are Cho Chang and Harry Potter, yes?"
"Yes, ma'am," Cho replied politely, and Harry nodded beside her as the mysterious woman made her way in front of their table. "It's a pleasure to meet you…"
"Ah, I'm your mentor!" The now identified Aparna Devi, Cho's mentor, said. She exuded an aura of warmth and wisdom that instantly put Harry at ease. It was kind of the same feeling he got with Rowena. He felt like he could ask her any questions he needed to without being judged. "You are even lovelier in person, Cho."
[That's very sweet of you, Harry. You make me feel very comfortable, as well.]
Evidently in her middle years, Aparna carried herself with a graceful confidence. Her Indian heritage was evident in her rich, almond-brown skin, and her hands were adorned with intricate henna patterns.
She had dark hair that was pulled back in an elegant bun, revealing a pair of silver earrings that jingled softly with every movement, and she wore colorful silk robes adorned with embroidery that reminded Harry of the stained glass windows at Hogwarts.
"Oh my goodness, thank you so much!" Cho said. She slid out of her seat and padded toward Aparna for a hug, which the woman accepted wholeheartedly. Cho's muffled voice came from somewhere within the hug, "I'm very excited to learn from you, Ms. Devi."
"And I'm equally excited to teach such a bright student." Aparna's expressive, dark eyes held a depth of knowledge and kindness, twinkling with a hint of mischief that made Harry wonder if she'd snuck up on them on purpose. "As for the snow, it is a precautionary measure. The Danish Academy maintains such an illusion year-round. It grants them privacy. As you'll find, European wizards tend to value their privacy quite a bit."
[I wonder what happened,] Rowena commented in his mind. [I once visited this land, when I was but a fledgling professor at Hogwarts. In those days, the Danish magical community was a true marvel to behold. Nestled amidst rolling hills and serene fjords, the wizarding villages and towns emerged seamlessly from the natural landscape, their charming thatched cottages blending harmoniously with the lush greenery and cascading waterfalls. Magic flowed through the very veins of the land, as wizards and witches harmonized with nature in a profound way. Wands were not the sole tools of the trade; wizards harnessed the elements, communed with magical creatures, and shaped spells with a profound connection to the environment. Almost in direct opposition to the crucibles we faced back home, The Danish wizards and witches of that era lived in harmony with their Muggle counterparts. They were known as protectors of the land, healers in times of crisis, and enchanters who brought joy to the lives of their fellow citizens. The magical community and the Muggle world were bound together in a symbiotic relationship…I suppose things changed.]
That's too bad. It might have to do with the Statute of Secrecy.
[What is that?]
Um, I don't know the full details of it, Harry replied embarrassedly, But it's a law. The law was laid down by the International Confederation of Wizards to safeguard the wizarding community from Muggles and hide its presence from the world at large.
[Interesting. That seems in line with the direction things were trending when I was still around.]
"—so I'm guessing it can't be the kind of charm that's reapplied every so often," Cho said, and Harry realized he'd been blanking out in the midst of their conversation. She bit her lip, and Harry found his eyes drawn to the slight crunch of her eyebrows. "Is it an enchantment?"
"Ah, you've been reading Lazlo's Guide to Magical Theory, good, Cho. Very good," Aparna smiled. She clapped her hands softly, and the noise drew Harry's gaze back to her. "You are correct. The snow is an enchantment powered year-round by a very powerful gemstone known as the Heart of Winter. This magical gem, no more than the size of a grown man's fist, is nestled deep within a glistening ice cavern beneath the snowy hill. Its radiant, icy blue glow pulses with a rhythm that matches the changing seasons, creating a perpetual winter wonderland around it."
"Do people ever try to steal it?" Harry asked, joining the conversation for the first time.
Aparna's smile didn't fade as she turned to face Harry. "Some. I do not recommend it, however. The Danish headmaster takes his security very seriously, and as I hope you'll never find, most who try to threaten that find themselves in quite a bit of trouble. Now, then. Cho, would you like to come with me? I believe some introductions are in order. There are a few people I would like for you to meet."
"Oh, um, sure," Cho agreed readily. Her hair rippled as she shared an uneasy look with Harry. "Ma'am, what about Harry?"
"Oh, you do not need to worry, beta," Aparna said kindly. She placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Ace is on his way. Harry will be in good hands."
Ace?
[It seems like a nickname. All things considered, I kind of like it. Alexander "Ace" Monroe.]
I kind of like it, too.
Aparna and Cho exchanged warm smiles before they began walking away, their laughter and chatter fading into the distance as Harry awaited the arrival of this mysterious "Ace" who would be responsible for his next phase of magical training.
He wasn't waiting long.
Unlike Aparna, Ace had no qualms about making an entrance. The doors to Harry's train car all but slammed open as he walked in.
His imposing physique practically filled the aisle as he draped a sizable overcoat over his already broad shoulders.
Clad in a flawlessly tailored, midnight-hued suit, he glided along the train's narrow corridors with more grace than Harry would've expected from someone his size.
Ace had a chiseled jawline that was framed by disheveled, raven-black hair that fell across his forehead in untamed waves. The stormy gray eyes that peered out from beneath that dark fringe seemed to hold the weight of countless secrets and unspoken burdens. The faintest hint of stubble clung to his angular jaw.
He settled into the seat in front of Harry. His body encompassed the whole bench. "Harry Potter?"
When he spoke, Harry noted that Ace had a heavy American accent. He made Harry's name sound more like Hayrry Pottaah.
"Yes," Harry replied as politely as he could. The intense look in Ace's eyes made it hard to meet his gaze. "Are you my mentor?"
"I am," Ace replied. He leaned back into the bench and fiddled around with a box of cigarettes. "Sorry for being AWOL…I was jumping through some hoops. Mentors…we're told to do all kinds of things before we meet in person. Send notes, presents. A waste of time, if you ask me. You don't need trinkets and platitudes."
As Ace stuck a cigarette in his mouth and the tip lit itself on fire, Harry resisted the urge to add in the fact that he would've still liked them, anyway.
"Here," The burning edge of the cigarette bounced around in Ace's mouth as reached into his overcoat and procured a metal contraption. It looked like a small square, with smooth edges, and a clamp on the back. "This right here is a metal wand holster. I've got one too."
While Aparna had exuded a welcoming warmth, Ace was the exact opposite.
He seemed shrouded in shadows, and instead of being warm and welcoming, he seemed guarded by this icy cloak of standoffishness. His presence felt akin to an emotional abyss, a dark void that swallowed up all sentiments.
Ace pushed his sleeve back, and Harry scooted closer to see the holster in action. Ace's wand, which was nestled in between, was a completely black stick of wood that was about a foot long.
"You're right-handed, right?" Ace asked. Harry nodded mutely. "Alright then, kid. The square latches onto your wrist, like so," Ace explained, pressing the square to Harry's right wrist.
With a soft, ethereal hum, the metal square sprang to life, sensing the presence of its new owner. It elongated and extended, twisting gracefully into a slender, elongated shape.
As Harry marveled at the remarkable transformation, the metal seemed to shift beneath his touch. It became pliable and soft, molding itself to the contours of his wrist. Before his eyes, it transformed into a snug yet comfortable wristband, fitting him as if it had been tailored just for him.
Along the surface of the wristband, a subtle seam appeared, and it split open to reveal a concealed compartment. Like a cocoon unfurling to reveal a hidden treasure, the compartment acted as a wand holster, ready to cradle his wand securely.
"It's MACUSA standard for agents. Technically, a kid shouldn't have it, but I figure if anyone could benefit from it, it's you," Ace remarked, a peculiar expression flickering on his face that could only be described as a twisted imitation of a smile. "To tell you the truth, I originally didn't want a mentee, but I've had first pick for a couple of years, and when I saw your name pop up, I thought it was high time I looked into handling one of you brats. Before I committed, though, I figured I'd at least do some research. Due diligence and all that, yeah?"
Harry didn't reply, but his brow furrowed. Was Ace going to be like Lockhart? Did he only care about his fame? What did due diligence even mean?
[I'm unfamiliar with the term MACUSA, but I'm certain he just means that he did his research on you beforehand. As…unorthodox as he seems, that bodes well for you. Any teacher willing to learn about their student before teaching them has already gotten off to an excellent start.]
"Like everyone else, I'd heard rumors of your adventures around Hogwarts. I went through the ICW's incident logs to see if they held any truth, so you can imagine my surprise when I found out they did," Ace continued, unbuttoning his suit jacket and leaning forward. Harry's nose wrinkled as Ace's breath washed over him. "Is it true that you can cast a corporeal patronus?"
"Yes," Harry replied meekly.
[What? Is this true? You never told me you could do that.]
It never came up!
Ace's cigarette disappeared from between his lips, and his smile was replaced by a contemplative expression. He leaned in even closer, his imposing frame causing his shirt to strain slightly. "Here's a question for you, and I'd appreciate an honest answer...you couldn't give less of a shit about this circuit, could you?'
"What? No, I do," Harry spluttered, shocked by Ace's casual swearing. His response sounded weak, even to him, so he added, "I do care about dueling. And I want to win this circuit."
"Nah, kid, I see it in your eyes, clear as day," Ace snorted. He wagged a finger at Harry. "But that's good. I don't want a student who's only here to duel. I want a student who's here to become strong. That's what you're after, isn't it? To become strong?"
"How did…" Harry trailed off, struggling to find the right words. Eventually, he settled on, "How can you tell?"
"I've spent my whole life learning how to read people. Besides, everything in your file points toward a hero complex the size of Mt. Rushmore," Ace replied. At Harry's blank look, he added, "It's a big ass mountain back home. Anyway, I had you pegged the moment I read your file. I've seen your type before, kid. You run into danger first and ask questions later. Cute, but you need the strength to back it up."
[We need to have a talk about all of this very soon,] Rowena's voice echoed in Harry's head. [It appears there's much about you I don't know.]
"That grit of yours is impressive. And the fact that you keep finding yourself in those situations? Priceless. Iron sharpens iron. Still, though, you need to find a way to know when you're in over your head. Or, the next time a pretty princess gets taken away and you go flying in to help like a jet," Ace paused for a moment, gesturing a meaty hand toward the door. "PHEW! You'll be in over your head. And when that happens, well, I don't gotta tell you what comes next. Now, two cars from here, there's a mixer with all the mentors and mentees. If you want, we can go to it and rub elbows with the latest dueling class. Or, right here, right now, we can start with your very first lesson. The choice is yours, Potter."
Harry sent a glance in the direction Cho and Aparna had walked. After a few moments, he said, "Training."
Ace clapped his hands together, "Good. I was hoping you'd say that. Now, before I teach you some spells or stances, the very first thing I need to hammer into you is ego. Let's start at the top."
With a flick of his wrist, Ace summoned his wand into his outstretched palm. Its tip emitted a soft blue glow as he began to draw something in the air before Harry. It took the shape of a ladder, composed of multiple rungs, each with two notches. Ace's wand paused mid-air. "I'm a firm believer in what I call the ladder approach. Essentially, a wizard's magical potential can be evaluated within the bounds of this ladder."
The ladder shifted upward. "To move up this ladder, you've got to climb its rungs. You see these two notches here? They represent willpower and intent. Some folks mistake them for the same thing, but they're worlds apart."
The ladder descended back down. Ace continued, "Willpower is like a relentless determination that fuels a wizard's magic. It's the mental toughness to endure the physical and emotional strains of wielding substantial power. When facing insurmountable odds or formidable adversaries, willpower is the foundation on which a wizard can stand firm. It lets them tap into vast reservoirs of magical energy, resist mental intrusions, and persist when others crumble. Intent, on the other hand, is the very essence of a wizard's magic. It's the clarity of purpose that infuses their spells with strength. Intent molds the form and function of magic, allowing a wizard to shape reality to their will. With pure and focused intent, a wizard can cast spells of remarkable precision and potency. Intent makes the difference between a basic spell and a mighty one. Remember the first time you conjured a corporeal Patronus? What set it apart from all your previous attempts?"
Harry recalled the cold night in the Forbidden Forest, the swarm of dementors, and the lifeless body of Sirius. The hopelessness of that moment. Slowly, he answered, "I wanted to protect."
"You wanted to protect!" Ace exclaimed, slapping the bench with his hand and making Harry jump. "That's exactly right. It's all about wanting it. People think that being a powerful wizard is about knowing countless spells or mastering endless combos, but it really boils down to sheer willpower and intent. Magic is a tool, Potter. It listens to you, it bends to your will, and it carries out your desires. You don't need to know a hundred spells for it to work. It starts with your mindset. More specifically, your ego. Ego is more than just arrogance; it's the unwavering belief in your own abilities. It's the audacity to think you can twist the very fabric of reality to your whim. A wizard with a healthy ego isn't afraid to take risks, push magic's limits, and assert their dominance in the mystical arts. Ego fuels ambition, driving a wizard to seek greater knowledge, craft mightier spells, and strive for mastery in their craft."
"So, you want me to have an ego?" Harry asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "That's what'll make me a great duelist?"
[Though his language and tone leave a lot to be desired, I suppose from a purely logical perspective, he isn't wrong, Harry. The connection between a wizard's mind and magic is incredibly important. If you truly master it, you can will things to happen. In a way, mastering that part of it would allow you to become an exponentially stronger wizard.]
"That's right," Ace replied, getting closer to Harry again. He pointed toward the compartment where Cho and Aparna had walked through. "Do you think anyone in that room can step up to you?"
"I…I'm not sure…"
"You're Harry Potter," Ace declared, gripping both of Harry's shoulders. "You've achieved feats no ordinary brat could even dream of. There's something driving you, something beyond the ordinary. Those kids out there, Harry, they want to duel. But you, you don't just want to duel; you want to win, damn it. You want to edge closer to your goal. You want to become strong."
"I do," Harry nodded. Ace's intensity was a bit overwhelming, but his words struck a deep chord within Harry. He did want all those things. "But I'm just...me."
"Exactly," Ace affirmed. "You're you. I see incredible potential in you, it's mind-boggling. You could be anything—a lightning-fast duelist, a sturdy tank, a master of transfiguration. Your future is boundless, Harry, but you need to cultivate that ego. Look at me."
Harry held Ace's gaze. Ace's grin faded, replaced by a grave expression. "As you ascend in the ICW's ranks, your capacity to learn magic and gain power will grow too. Every single person in that room out there is standing between you and that opportunity. Are you going to let them?"
"No," Harry asserted.
"I can't hear you, Potter!" Ace bellowed. "Are you going to sit idly by and let someone else snatch what's rightfully yours?"
"No!" Harry shouted, his chest heaving.
"Good," Ace panted, giving Harry's shoulder a reassuring pat as he rose to his feet. "Draw your wand."
"Sir?"
"Draw your wand," Ace ordered, and Harry stumbled to his feet, clutching his wand tightly. "People believe that it's spells that make great duelists, but that's hogwash if your connection between mind and magic isn't crystal clear. I'll stand here, and you'll stand there. Without uttering a single word, you're going to stop me."
A nervous cold seeped into Harry's core. "Stop you?"
"That's goddamn right," Ace grinned, his eyes taking on a gleam. "Let's go! Dance!"
A jet of red light splurted out of Ace's wand and curved toward Harry.
After two weeks of playing dodgeball, Harry's reflexes were so honed toward the color red, the second it left Ace's wand, he kicked off the wall of the train and slid over the cushion.
"Good reflexes," Ace noted, blasting two more spells in Harry's direction. They exploded the floor of the train in a shower of splinters, and Harry could see the cold train tracks blurring underneath. "Don't let up, Potter."
Harry vaulted over the bench and took cover behind it, his chest heaving. He gripped his wand tightly.
From somewhere over the wooden structure, Ace hollered, "Excellent use of your environment. This might actually be fun!"
[This man is a psychopath!] Rowena yelled in Harry's mind. [You can't seriously be considering this!]
I might be a psychopath, too, Harry thought back. He peered over the bench but ducked when a blue stream of light almost took his head off. It crashed into the wall behind him. In the wake of the collision, a fragile web of frost began to creep outward from the point of impact. Delicate, crystalline tendrils sprouted like vines, their growth rapid and mesmerizing. They traced intricate patterns across the stone's surface, glistening with an otherworldly beauty. Because I'm kind of having fun.
Harry peered over the bench and Ace spun his wand. Beside Harry, a red cushion rippled, folding inwards and elongating. The deep crimson fabric transformed, shimmering and shifting until it resembled the rich, scaled skin of a serpent.
Beady eyes stared at Harry, and the snake opened its mouth in a long hiss. Its fangs dripped with a yellow substance.
[Harry, that's poison. I'm begging you to stop this farce before you get hurt!]
"That's not good," Harry muttered, flicking his wand at the snake and sending it flying over the table at Ace.
How do I activate my mind-magic connection?
[You're still doing this?]
Please, Rowena! Harry thought back as he rolled out of the way. His cover was obliterated by a purple spell that bathed the entire train car in a strobing disco light.
[Fine! You don't just activate your mind-magic connection, it's a whole process. For starters, breathe deeply.]
Harry took a deep breath as he crouched behind one of the other cushions.
[Feel the rhythm of your breath as it courses through your body, grounding you in the present moment. This is the foundation upon which your mind-magic connection is built– mindfulness. The second step is to imagine your magic as something you can see. As you delve deeper into your consciousness, visualize a wellspring of energy within you, a boundless reservoir of power waiting to be harnessed. This wellspring is your magical identity, the very essence of your wizardry. It pulses with life, responding to the ebb and flow of your emotions, intentions, and desires. Now, focus your thoughts on a single, vivid image—a crystal-clear mental image of what you wish to achieve with your magic.]
Harry nodded and tried to visualize his magic, but he didn't have much time before Ace was on him once more, curving spells around the bench with twists of his wand.
Harry dodged and weaved, narrowly avoiding each spell by the skin of his teeth. His breath came in ragged gasps as he scrambled to keep up. Ace's attacks were relentless, and it felt like there was no escape.
Visualize, Harry, Harry thought frantically.
In his mind's eye, he pictured his magic as a swirling pool of energy. It shimmered with a faint, silvery light, like moonlight dancing on water. It felt familiar yet untamed, like a wild stallion waiting to be bridled.
Ace's spells painted streaks of color through the air, and Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he ducked, rolled, and sidestepped with every bit of agility he could muster. But Ace was relentless, never giving him a moment's respite.
"Come on, Potter!" Ace taunted between spells. "You can do better than this! Or was I wrong?"
Harry's frustration grew as he struggled to keep up. He knew he needed to find a way to turn the tide of the battle, but Ace's experience was evident in every precise incantation and flick of his wand.
KRAKAKAKAK!
A series of gray spells, small and round like pebbles, smashed into the wall behind Harry. One of them bounced off the painting and ricocheted toward the window with the speed of a snitch.
The window shattered, not with a violent explosion, but with a controlled burst. Shards of glass scattered outward, tinkling as they hit the cold, unforgiving ground.
The frigid air from outside rushed in, carrying with it the distant sound of the train on the tracks. The sudden influx of cold air made Harry shiver, but he pushed through it and forced himself to return to that image of a pool in his mind.
As he visualized, he could almost see the pool of magic responding to his thoughts. It rippled and shifted, as though it were alive.
What did Ace say? He needed an ego. He continued to concentrate, delving deeper into the core of his magic. It was just a tool; it was an extension of himself, an expression of his will.
The cold wind howled through the broken window, whipping Harry's hair into a frenzy. Amidst the chaos of the rushing air, Ace's voice cut through, a primal scream over the elemental forces. "You've got to stop thinking, Potter!" Ace bellowed, his words carried away by the wind. His eyes bore into Harry's, intense and unyielding. "Trust your magic!"
Harry's mind raced, but Ace's words echoed in his head. Trust your magic. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, shutting out the doubt and the fear. In that moment of stillness, he felt it—the raw power, the untamed energy that surged within him.
The silvery pool of magic began to stabilize, its surface growing calmer and more controlled. Harry sensed a connection forming, a bond between himself and this untamed force. It was a delicate balance, like walking on a tightrope, but he was determined to master it.
He opened his eyes, his gaze locked with Ace's. Without a word, without a conscious thought, he let go. He surrendered to the magic that flowed through him, untethered and wild.
In an instant, the air around them crackled with unrestrained power. The broken window seemed to shudder as the magic responded to Harry's unspoken command.
A blinding burst of pure magic erupted from Harry's wand. It wasn't a spell he'd ever learned or even heard of—it was a blast of light that was the same color as the pool in his mind.
Ace reacted swiftly. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a shimmering bronze shield, its form resembling a protective cocoon.
Harry's spell, crackling with power, hurtled toward him, its energy palpable. The magical explosion struck the bronze shield with a deafening clash. Sparks flew, and the shield shuddered under the immense force. Ace's smile didn't waver as he held it steady, his determination inexhaustible.
The spell's power was deflected, its raw energy dispersing harmlessly into the air. Effortlessly, Ace let the cocoon-like shield dissipate, its glow fading. With another graceful wave of his wand, he began to revert the train car back to its original state.
The shattered window pane slowly pieced itself together, the shards of glass dancing back into place. As the last shard clicked into position, the train car was restored, as if the intense magical battle had never occurred. Ace stood there, his expression thoughtful. "I didn't think you'd actually do it. Good on you, kid."
Harry stood there, breathing heavily, his trust in his magic affirmed. "You're…insane."
"I know," Ace let out a bawdy laugh; it was so infectious that Harry rolled his eyes and began smiling. "Now, let's get you some food. You earned it."
AN: Sorry for taking so long to update. I didn't love this chapter, and I still don't love it, but I guess I won't always love what I write. I'm still trying to find the 'identity' of this story and find what works, so please bear with me in the meantime.
The Quotable Patella: I don't disagree with what you're saying. The premise does require a little bit of suspension of disbelief on your part, but it's not quite as ridiculous. And, IIRC, his potion isn't even the best in the room, let alone better than what Snape's would be. It's just different and better explained. He understands the essence of what potions can do, even if his isn't the best, likely because as you rightfully pointed out, potions have changed a lot in that timeframe. Also, I think your Achimedes example makes a lot of sense, but the issue here is that the magical world doesn't grow that much. Take the Patronus charm, for example, or the water-making charm. These have all been around for a long time, and used in the same capacity, according to the wiki. So, the truth is, the plausibility of Rowena being helpful is somewhere closer to your definition for sure, but I don't think it's entirely out of the question. Thanks for your analysis, though, because to be honest, I never even thought of it like that.
AvidReader2425: You're on point with your analysis. I think I read somewhere that, halfway through the series, Rowling decided she wanted to make Harry more of an underdog, and I think that tracks. Sure, in canon, he doesn't do anything overtly impressive beyond like Book 4 besides the DA and stuff, but I think that if you look at the trajectory he was going on, based on his first few years, he should've been insanely strong. Trust me, with his support system, he's going to reach that level, here.