Harry slept fitfully as flashes of Dolohov's face pushed their way into his dreams and the cold, creeping touch of Death's fingertips lingered on his mind as if he was still there in the Ministry of Magic struggling against Death's grip on his soul. Whenever he felt as if he would be consumed entirely, a warm presence gently guided him away from the vision of Dolohov, assuring him that it was all a dream. In his drowsy haze, Harry could not tell whether he was awake or asleep or how many times he fell in and out of his nightmares. When the visions finally stopped, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When he next woke, it was dark except for the flickering light of the fireplace emanating from Madam Pomfrey's office across from his wing. He saw the outlines of Dumbledore and Tom, hunched over in front of the fire. They were drinking tea. The soft sounds of conversation reached Harry's ears. Tom's soft chuckle reminded Harry that Tom was there, in the flesh, right when he needed him. It was strange seeing the two of them chatting, as if reaching through decades. Harry watched them, blinking slowly, trying to remember why he was there. Dumbledore turned and smiled, tapping Tom's arm and gesturing Harry's way. Tom hastily set down his tea and was at Harry's side again.
"Good morning, Harry," he said playfully. "I know what you're thinking. Don't worry, you've only lost a day. You needed the sleep anyhow."
"A full day? What?" Harry groaned, sitting up.
"And you needed it," Tom repeated, helping Harry up. "After Death attacked you, you were exhausted. Your mind was vulnerable," Tom said. He adjusted Harry's pillows for him so he could sit upright. Instantly, there was a tray carrying a simple dinner in front of him.
"Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked, remembering the attack.
"Perfectly alive," Tom said. He looked pointedly at the food and handed Harry a fork. "The aurors reached him quickly and sent him off to St. Mungo's. He was awake and talking earlier than you, actually."
"That's a relief," Harry said through a bite of his dinner roll. "Don't know how I'm going to explain that one, but I'm glad he's alive."
"Dumbledore thought up something for you. Something about a connection to Dolohov after dying at his hands. He always had a talent for melodrama."
"Did he now?" Harry laughed. "You must be happy he's back."
"Oh yes," Tom replied, nodding and looking around the room self-consciously. "It's been…an adjustment to say the least. Shaking old habits has been hard. It will take some time before I can look him in the eye without wanting to kill him." Tom paused, looking Harry in the eyes. "He asked me to come help you."
"What? How?" Harry asked.
"Called the Headmaster, Sokolov, through the floo and asked for me." He said, shrugging. "Sometimes simple solutions are the most effective."
"That's crazy," Harry sighed, spooning more food into his mouth absentmindedly. He looked at Tom and a moment of silence passed between them.
"Thank you for coming," Harry said. "I don't know what I would have done."
"I will always come when you need me, Harry," Tom said. A lump suddenly appeared in Harry's throat as his face flushed bright red and he could only nod while trying his best to hide his face in his soup.
Harry was allowed to return to the Gryffindor common room in the evening after Tom departed. Harry had returned the part of Tom's soul that was in the locket. Exhausted, Harry made a beeline for the dormitory. The boys were all asleep and Ron's bed remained empty as the Weasleys were still keeping vigil at Arthur's bedside. Harry dreamt again of his encounter with Death. Though the dreams were less vivid, his brain felt like it was moving through a dense fog that weighed him down in his dreams. He felt helpless under Death's grasp and struggled to free himself. He dreamt that he laid pinned to the ministry floor as Death held him by the throat. He only woke as he fell out of bed in his struggle. Harry was grateful he had the foresight to cast a silencing charm around his bed.
Harry sat shivering on the floor alone in the dark, slowly catching his breath and blinking away tears. He curled in on himself and hugged his knees, shielding his field of vision behind a curtain of his own hair.
Child, Legion said, voices gentle in his mind. Death's touch on your mind left a mark. Your body cannot take much more of these dreams.
"What is this? Why is this happening?" Harry asked.
Death described a window to your mind that they created the night you received your scar. When you encountered them at the ministry, it appears they used this window to gain access to your mind. These nightmares are the result of their touch on your mind. They seek to break you.
"That's just great," Harry said, laughing bitterly. "Is this permanent? Is there anything I can do keep them away?"
Dreamless sleep. If you do not dream, Death cannot touch you.
Harry considered the bottle Madam Pomfrey handed to him before he left the hospital wing. The potion always left him feeling fuzzy and confused. He decided those sensations were more favorable than waking up screaming. Reluctantly, he downed a dose of dreamless sleep and returned to bed. He left the common room the next morning feeling tired, but relieved. The school for the most part was unaware of his involvement in saving Arthur Weasley. Harry had the day off to rest, but he felt restless in the castle. Itching to go outside and touch some grass, he flew out the nearest open window in his animagus form. He flew over the forbidden forest, allowing his feathers to absorb some of the warmth of the morning sun. He spotted a familiar clearing and chose to land there. Firenze's tent was pitched in the same place it was the last time he entered the forest. Firenze himself was busying himself making rope when Harry landed before him.
"Harry!" Firenze cried, setting aside his work. Harry transformed back into his human form and greeted Firenze.
Harry accepted Firenze's companionable embrace and looked around the clearing. There were two tents pitched there and it looked as if Firenze had been camped out there for at least a few days. Harry's face fell somewhat.
"Why are you out here, Firenze? Are you having trouble with the herd?" Harry anxiously looked Firenze up and down for injuries. Firenze laughed and placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder.
"No, Harry, the herd has been at peace, thanks to you. This time, I am away on business. There is a disturbance in the forest. A large creature has been disrupting the wildlife. It's been hard to track where it is exactly, so Magorian dispatched teams of scouts to track the damage." As Firenze spoke, Bane emerged from the tree line into the clearing
"Ah, Bane," Firenze said with an easy smile, "Harry, you remember Bane."
"Greetings, Harry," Bane said, somewhat stiffly, hooves working the ground beneath him awkwardly. He inched closer to Firenze. "You, er, appear to be looking much better since our last encounter. I, uh, I-"
Firenze laughed softly and playfully nudged Bane. "He means to say he apologizes for the way he spoke to you last."
Bane nodded, looking Harry in the eyes for the first time. "Thank you for what you did for the forest, Harry. I should not have dismissed your bravery. I was ashamed of myself after what you showed me. I sincerely apologize."
"Thank you, Bane," Harry said, feeling embarrassed. He looked from Firenze to Bane and back again. The two of them seemed much more at ease with each other than before. Bane kept his eyes trained on Firenze, who had a wider smile on his face now that Bane was there.
"Find anything new, Bane?" Firenze asked, passing Bane a water skein. Bane took it absently and nodded his head.
"More damage. Nothing too concerning, just a few fallen trees and trampled hedges. It appears random and thankfully most creatures were unharmed. Still, this can't go on. Every realm is on edge." Bane took a drink and passed the skein back to Firenze, touched him lightly on his forearm, and turned his attention to a map that was hanging between two trees. Harry's eyes darted between the two of them and he smirked.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Harry said, trying his best to tamp down his amusement.
"We couldn't ask more of you, Harry," Bane grunted.
"Yes, Harry, and you should be relaxing. You need to give your body enough time to recover from your ordeal."
"I'm recovering well," Harry said. "I'm resting on the headmaster's orders. I've made a lot of progress this past month."
"That is wonderful to hear, Harry," Firenze said, a dazzling smile on his lips. "But don't think that means we will let you overexert yourself. You are to sit here and observe. Bane here can do the leg work."
"That's what I'm here for," Bane said, smirking. "I will try out this new lead that another scouting team relayed yesterday. Hopefully, the trail is fresh enough for us to find the threat before the next one."
Harry watched them work for a while longer, leaning comfortably against a tree. Mentor made herself known, floating lazily to and fro in front of Harry. Bane and Firenze appeared in and out of the clearing, disappearing into the black mists of another realm and reappearing from the other side of the clearing from yet another realm. To be sure, there were hundreds of them, but Harry wondered how expansive the forest would be if the forest was fully restored.
"Mentor," Harry asked, lazily combing his fingers through the grass, feeling the thrum of the forest's energy flowing just beneath the surface.
"Yes, child?" She asked, rolling over to face him.
"I was thinking about how I could finish restoring the rune."
Mentor squinted at him, equal parts skeptical and wary. "Hmm you thinking is never a good sign."
"Hear me out. What if I channeled the astral plane's energy while I was out of my body? That way, the spiritual energy won't hurt my body." Harry spoke as his mind spun together half-formed thoughts. Mentor's eyes narrowed.
"No, your soul would still be burned to ashes. You would become a being of pure magic." She waved him off dismissively.
"But it would work, wouldn't it? My body would be fine. The rune would be restored. Everybody wins." Harry was thinking out loud again.
"You're not understanding me," Mentor said, sitting up to look at him. "Your soul would be gone. Your connection to Legion would be severed forever. You'd become like me. Not only that, but you would lose your ability to maintain life in your body. Without a connection to a soul, a body cannot live long-term. Your body would begin to decay from the moment your soul ceased to be."
"I hadn't considered that," Harry said. "But in an emergency-"
"No." Mentor cut him off pointedly. "As I said before, losing your connection with Legion is devastating and irreversible. I will not allow you to do such a thing. This is simply not an option."
The demon is correct, Legion added. None know better than she what agony it is to lose one's connection with us. This is a decision that cannot be taken so lightly, not even for the sake of all the lives in this forest.
"I'm sorry, Mentor," Harry said, realizing he'd said something wrong. "I was just thinking out loud. I didn't mean anything by it."
Mentor's face softened. "I know, child. However, the most frightening thing about you is that you would not think twice before committing to such a thing. It is high time someone was more firm with you. Stop thinking about this."
"Yes, Mentor," Harry replied. He could not, however, stop his idle thoughts from revisiting the idea. As he left the forest that day, he thought he saw Hagrid returning to his hut. Harry was relieved to see him, and tried to flag him down, but Hagrid didn't appear to see or hear him before pulling his door shut. Harry thought it was odd, but merely made a mental note to speak to him at breakfast. However, Hagrid didn't appear at breakfast the next morning and Professor McGonagall announced that Hagrid would continue to be on leave until after the winter holidays.
"I just saw him yesterday, though," Harry said to Ron and Hermione. "He looked like he was just getting back."
"Well, if he's still on leave, I bet it's something personal," Ron said.
"I think we should give him some privacy, don't you?" Hermione chimed in. "It might be something like a death in the family. Not our place to pry."
"I guess you're right," Harry said. "I'll check in on him after the holidays."
The time came for the holidays and Harry returned home to Malfoy Manor with plans to stay over at the Burrow, his grandparents' house, and Sirius's house before returning to spend the new year with the Malfoys. There was to be a grand celebration at Sirius's house on Christmas Eve.
Harry spent the first few days of his holiday relaxing at Malfoy Manor, trying his very best to rest. There were many things on his mind, Umbridge, Amelia Bones, the ministry, Tom, Dumbledore, the rune. These thoughts spun around in his head as he and Draco lazed around in Draco's room.
"So how did you save Mr. Weasley, Harry?" Draco asked.
"You're not going to believe me," he said, laughing. "I'm tired just thinking about it."
"Try me," Draco said, flipping through a quidditch magazine.
Harry sighed and thought briefly. He was determined to trust his friends and family more and no one deserves the truth more than Draco. He and Draco sat face to face on a rug in front of the fire, both relaxed and warm in a home Harry would never have had if not for Draco's friendship. The person before him was practically his brother. In that moment, Harry made his decision. "Okay, but promise you won't tell anyone. I'll tell your parents eventually, but I want to wait for the right moment."
"Hmm alright, you're on." Draco sounded suspicious, but not hesitant. Harry told him the whole story, about Legion, Mentor, Death, Dolohov, and his harrowing encounter in the ministry. Draco nodded as Harry spoke, asking clarifying questions every now and then, but otherwise letting Harry speak. His emotions were calm and even as ever despite the outlandish things Harry said.
"So there's been a demon in the forest this whole time? And Hogwarts has been on the brink of collapse this whole time? As if that wasn't enough, now the ministry is in turmoil? It's no wonder you were exhausted. I don't know how you had time to get into this much trouble," Draco said when Harry finished his story.
"So you believe me?" Harry asked, almost afraid to meet Draco's eyes. Draco placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Of course. You're my brother. I'm on your side no matter what."
"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you all of this sooner, I-"
"No apologies, Harry," Draco said, interrupting him. "You had every reason to hide that story you just told me from everyone. I would have done the same in your shoes."
"Really?"
"Absolutely. Harry, you're my brother. Whatever reasons you had, I'll never blame you for them."
"It feels good to tell you, Draco. I hated lying to you. I've had to hide this from almost everybody. It's like I was living a second life."
"You were. All this stuff about necromancy…it makes a lot of sense, you know? It explains a lot."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, you've always seemed like you were so much wiser than the rest of us, like you're part of something much bigger and more important than anyone could know. And you seem so powerful sometimes you're like a god, like you popped out of a different universe."
"Now that's unbelievable," Harry said, laughing. "You sound just like Cedric."
"No, I'm serious. I've been your sparring partner for years now. You're holding back. My best is as easy as breathing for you. I'm not just saying that to flatter you. You have true power, like enough to change the world."
"I've never thought about it like that."
"Well you should. You're a kind person, Harry. I think if there was anyone who could be trusted with this much power, it would be you."
"I'll think about what you said. I've always thought of power as a target on my back. But maybe I'm looking at it wrong."
"Yeah, well, not wanting power is what makes you the best person to have it. Anyhow, show me this astral projection thing. You can put your soul anywhere you want? What happens to your body?" Harry astral projected out of his body, allowing it to slump sideways.
"It just looks like I'm asleep," Harry said from behind Draco. Draco yelped in surprise and scrambled away from both copies of Harry, eyes darting back and forth between Harry's soul and his body.
"Bloody hell, Harry," he said. "Give me a warning next time." Harry laughed and began floating lazily around his body, spinning idly in circles.
"You can fly while you're in the state?" Draco exclaimed, batting at Harry's soul with his hands, only to have his hands pass through Harry. Harry spent the rest of the afternoon giving Draco more details about his powers and demonstrating them. Draco did ask Harry to possess his own body, which Harry shut down very quickly.
"I'm not gonna risk you getting lost forever in the astral plane!" Harry said, returning to his body.
"Aw you're no fun," Draco said, pouting. A moment passed and Draco said, "You know, they're your parents now, too. You should try calling them mother and father like I do."
"Really? I'm not used to it. Are you sure they wouldn't mind?" Harry was abashed and looked down at his hands.
"Yeah they've been calling you their son to everybody ever since they stood up to Umbridge. It would make them happy.'
"Okay," Harry said, nodding, a smile breaking out on his face. His chest bloomed with warmth. "I won't turn platinum blonde all of a sudden, will I? It looks good on all of you, but I'm afraid my skin tone just isn't right for it." Draco threw a pillow at him and threatened to curse his hair. The boys laughed and continued enjoying their holiday.
Harry next arrived at the burrow with Draco to spend a few days there. The first thing they did was play several rounds of quidditch with the Weasley siblings, Percy included. The family built him a small house just down the road so that he could stay close. He proposed to Penelope Clearwater and the couple were due to wed in the summer. Harry had taken the liberty of giving Percy a nice bonus to help fund the wedding, not that the rest of the family knew. Penelope kept score while they played. Draco, Harry, and Ginny took turns playing seeker. They were evenly matched, the three of them consistently beating each other. Harry even ignored the Sight to even the playing field. Harry won just a few more rounds than the other two, but by the end, no one was counting. The first evening he was there, Arthur Weasley pulled him aside just after everyone else had gone to bed. They sat in the darkened living room with some mugs of hot chocolate. Arthur was looking much better, though the bruises on his face were still fading and his left arm and right leg remained in casts.
"Harry, I just wanted to thank you for saving my life. I wouldn't be sitting here right now if it wasn't for you."
"Not at all, Mr. Weasley. I just…saw you there in my vision and my brain went on autopilot. I hardly remember that night." Harry did his best not to sound too nervous. Lying to Mr. Weasley was difficult.
"Dumbledore told me you were ill after experiencing the vision. How are you faring?'
"I'm recovered, thank you. It was just a headache, really. I was out of it for a day, but I was better after that."
"Even so, I feel so guilty for making you go through that. It was so strange. The two death eaters who were beating me just stopped all of a sudden and the next thing I knew, they were dead. I don't know what it was, but as I was lying there, I felt a presence there like some ghost had killed them. I can't help but think the presence I felt was you." Harry looked nervously into Mr. Weasley's face, wondering what he knew. Mr. Weasley smiled and shook his head.
"Listen to me rambling. They have me on some really good pain medications. Anyhow, I just wanted to thank you in person. Know that my home is always open to you, Harry." Mr. Weasley winked at him and hobbled away and up the stairs to his bedroom. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and joined Ron and Draco in Ron's room. The boys spent a few more days in the Burrow before everyone, including the Weasleys, headed off to 12 Grimmauld Place to stay with Sirius and celebrate Christmas eve in a grand fashion.
The once dark hall was filled with light, the smell of food, and the voices of happy people. The Malfoys, the Weasleys, Tonks and her mother, Lupin, Snape, the Evanses, and the Grangers all gathered to celebrate. The adults each nursed mugs of mulled wine and cider while the children each had enough butter beer, pumpkin juice, and hot chocolate to keep them running wild all evening. Tonks and Lupin were holed up in one corner, Tonks's hair pinker than Harry had ever seen it. Sirius, Narcissa, and Andromeda were catching up in the drawing room laughing at the ridiculous family tree that used to be there. Arthur, after spending an acceptable amount of time talking the ears off of Mr. and Mrs. Granger, loitered next to the fire with Lucius, talking about work as always. The Grangers and the Evanses, having bonded over being the only muggles in the room, occupied the dining table laughing over their shared experiences living with magical folk. The children ran up and down the stairs in the grand house playing games and managing to get into every secret corner. The celebrations went on late into the night. It was about 2 o'clock in the morning by the time everyone but Harry, Sirius, and Lupin had gone home. Harry had decided to stay a few days with Sirius before returning to Malfoy manor.
Harry collapsed into bed without a second thought. He slept soundly until suddenly, his dreams took a violent turn. He dreamt again that Death was holding him down by the throat with their iron grip, fingers needling into his scar, terrorizing his thoughts. He clawed at Death's hand, digging into the skin of his own neck, desperate to be free. Just as the pain was about to overwhelm him, he felt someone shaking him awake.
"Harry! Harry!" someone shouted. Blind with fear, Harry struck out at the person shaking him awake. He sent whatever curses he could think of in every direction. He thought he heard someone else screaming. The blue light of a protego charm lit up the room and Harry's spells bounced harmlessly off it, ricocheting throughout the room and tearing apart pieces of furniture instead. Two figures tackled him to the ground. Harry had the wind knocked out of him.
"Harry! It's us. You need to calm down, lad." Harry heard another voice saying. Another hand stroked his face soothingly. Harry blinked hard and looked around him, suddenly remembering where he was. He stopped struggling and the lights flicked on. Lupin and Sirius helped Harry sit up.
"I-I-I'm so sorry," Harry said through tears. "Are you hurt? D-did you-"
"Shh, we're fine, Harry," Sirius said, holding Harry against him. Harry continued apologizing and cried into Sirius's pyjama shirt. Lupin sat next to them and rubbed circles into Harry's back. When Harry had calmed somewhat, he looked around the room. It was in shambles. The dresser had completely exploded, all of the wallpaper was hanging off the walls as if a tornado had come through the room, and the bed was flipped over against the wall.
"Did I do all that?" Harry asked.
"Yes you did," Sirius said, laughing. "Normally, I would be impressed by this level of destruction, but I'm just concerned for you at the moment."
"We heard you screaming," Lupin said. "We ran straight here from our rooms and you were thrashing in your sleep."
"I'm sorry, Harry, I tried to wake you," Sirius said. "That probably wasn't the best idea. You were scared out of your mind. Anyhow, let's put this room back together and talk about it some more, eh?"
Sirius and Lupin repaired everything in the room. Splinters of wood and chunks of plaster returned to their rightful place as they worked. By the end of it, the room looked totally unscathed. Lupin lit the fire and summoned Kreacher to bring hot chocolate for them to sip on.
"So what did you dream that made you react like that, Harry?" Sirius asked.
"It's kind of a long story," Harry started.
"We're not doing anything in the morning, let's have it then,"Lupin said, gesturing for Harry to continue. Harry again told the whole story, about his necromancy, Death, Legion, and finally, Harry's frightful encounter with Death in the Ministry.
"So you think these nightmares are the remainder of Death's hold on your mind?" Sirius asked. Harry nodded.
"It's been happening every night since I saved Mr. Weasley," Harry said as he stared into the fire. "I usually take a dreamless sleep potion before bed and cast a silencing charm around me in case I wake up screaming in the dormitory. I forgot all about that tonight."
"I see," Sirius said, serious expression on his face. He snapped his fingers and a vial of what was recognizably dreamless sleep appeared before him. "Here, take mine. I have plenty. We should probably follow the spirits' advice, hm? If you don't dream, Death can't reach you." Harry thanked him and took the potion obediently. They stayed by his side til he fell asleep again.
When he woke in the morning, Harry opened his eyes to the sight of Kreacher swinging his legs back and forth of a chair that was much too large for him, beady eyes staring intently at him. He was dressed in a small butler's outfit, a Christmas gift from Harry and Lupin. Kreacher's bat-like ears perked up and what could be described as a smile appeared on his face.
"Master Potter is awake," he said, jumping off his stool. He helped Harry up, snapped his fingers, and conjured a hot towel for him. Harry took it and pressed it against his eyes, which were still sore from crying the night before. His covers magically pulled themselves back and folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Kreacher took the hot towel and gently patted Harry's eyes.
"Master Potter should not be so upset during Christmas. Kreacher hopes Master Potter can be at ease. He is safe here." Kreacher hopped off the bed. Harry noticed he still wore the locket he gave him and smiled.
"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry said, getting out of bed obediently. He followed Kreacher to the bathroom to wash up and allowed Kreacher to help him get dressed. Harry followed Kreacher to the breakfast table, where Sirius and Lupin were already waiting.
"Oh you poor thing," Lupin said, reaching over to Harry's face. "Your eyes are so red. Did the dreamless sleep help?"
"Oh it did," Harry said, "Nothing but black. No dreams to bother me."
"That's good, Harry," Sirius said, helping him to his seat. "Dreamless sleep is marvelous stuff, though it's not supposed to be used long-term. We'll have to keep an eye on it. But that's a problem for another day. Eat your breakfast."
Harry did as he was told and enjoyed the rest of his stay with Sirius.
When Harry returned to Malfoy Manor, the family was preparing to celebrate the new year. Harry accompanied Narcissa and Draco on excursions into Diagon Alley to purchase decorations and food for a very large, public new year's eve party. The family would auction off a variety of goods and the proceeds of the night would go to support research into a cure for lycanthropy, which was a fashionable cause among the wealthy. Internally, Harry was overjoyed Percy's marketing was working. Outwardly, he enthusiastically supported the auction for Lupin's sake. After exhausting himself following after Narcissa and helping her carry things home, Harry collapsed into bed. It was getting quite late and every member of the household was asleep.
"You sound like you've had quite a day," a voice said in the darkness of his room. Harry's head snapped up and a lamp turned on, illuminating Tom's handsome face. He was sitting in a lounge chair in the corner.
"Tom!" Harry cried, rolling off of his bed and scuttling over to Tom. Tom rose and hugged Harry close, tucking Harry's head under his chin. Harry pulled away and looked up at Tom's face.
"How long have you been waiting here?" Harry asked, sitting next to Tom.
"A few hours, maybe. You seem so busy." Tom studied Harry's face and brushed a stray piece of hair away from Harry's eyes.
"The Malfoys are hosting a charity thing the day after tomorrow. Percy managed to make the lycanthropy research so fashionable that all the wealthy wizarding families are buying in. The Malfoys heard about it from Sirius and I think they want to support the cause as a public showing that they've made up with Sirius. I can't help but think it was for my sake."
"You found a talented man," Tom said, chuckling. "And you found a loving family, Harry. I'm so happy that you're happy here. It's clear they love you. I should know, I know what they were like before."
"I know. I feel so lucky they found me. Even if we're distantly related, I think they would have taken me in regardless. They're kind."
"Hmm I'll have to reward them for treating you so well. I've been thinking about it, but I don't want to put you in an awkward place. As you said, it would really complicate things if I suddenly showed up and announced to the world I was alive again."
"I want to tell them about you eventually, of course," Harry said. "They'd probably be beside themselves with happiness."
"They would, but I think they would try to protect you first."
"I'll be there too," Harry said. "I'll vouch for you. They'd listen to me. Just promise me you'll give me a heads up. I want to tell them everything together.
"Okay, together," Tom said, smiling. Tom stayed to chat for a few more hours until he insisted that Harry get some sleep.
"Wait," Harry said as Tom got up to leave. He took a small box out from his bedside table and handed it to Tom. "Happy birthday," Harry said. Tom grinned and opened the box. Inside the box lay a silver signet ring with a carved insignia of a Phoenix wrapped around the letter S. "S for Steward," Harry said sleepily. "For your new beginning."
"Thank you, Harry," Tom said, slipping it on his finger. Harry could hear the smile in his voice. "It's beautiful. I'll wear it proudly." He stayed with Harry til he fell asleep.
The holidays ended and the students returned to Hogwarts. Although Harry's nightmares recurred, they were sporadic. Harry had a ready supply of dreamless sleep from Madam Pomfrey, who had already been prescribing him the potion since his collapse the year before. Harry was finally feeling rested and he made remarkable progress healing his magical core.
One afternoon, Harry was completing another round of his meditation exercise with Dumbledore in his office. It was strenuous as usual, but Harry had been supplementing this exercise with the exercise Tom taught him. Anxious to be able to cast again, Harry pushed himself to his limits.
"That's it, Harry, keep going. Hold the spell for as long as you can stand it," Dumbledore said encouragingly. They sat facing each other in the usual spot in front of Dumbledore's desk. Harry had his eyes closed, finding it easier to concentrate if he wasn't watching the spell grow with the Sight. He breathed hard with the exertion, and focused on growing the flowing orb before him.
"My boy," Dumbledore laughed, "you really ought to open your eyes and see this." Harry's eyes snapped open and he was shocked to find that the spell had grown so large that it filled the domed ceiling and flooded the entire office with light. Startled, Harry lost control of the spell and it burst into dazzling waterfalls of light which seemed to flow down the walls of the office. Dumbledore whistled.
"I believe we can officially declare that your magical core is recovered. Now, I have to confess that I misled you a little bit. Most people can't grow their magical reserves to be this, uh, excessively large." Dumbledore had a sheepish look on his face. "Most people at most can get theirs to be about six feet in diameter."
"What? You said I had a long way to go back when it was that size." Harry huffed, falling back on his hands and catching his breath.
"And you did! Look at how much bigger that was! The point of this exercise was to regrow your reserves until you reached your upper limit of magical power. I saw you had more room to grow, so we kept going. I didn't think it would get this big, honest."
"What? You mean I could have been casting normally earlier than this?"
"Well, yes," Dumbledore said shrugging, "but you wouldn't have completely rehabilitated your magical core. I don't think you have ever truly regrown your core. As you know, your core has been busy healing you repeatedly for years on end. It's never had the chance to grow to its full potential because of repeated injuries. If the potential of your magical reserves were any smaller than this, you would definitely have died much earlier."
"You could have told me, professor," Harry huffed.
"Would you have tried so hard if I told you? No, you would have gone back to casting spells willy nilly, undoing months of work. Now that you've reached your peak potential, I think you'll find that your casting will be better than it ever was. I'll make good on my promise. What would you like to learn?"
"That's easy," Harry said, fishing out and tossing a book to Dumbledore, "transfiguration. You taught transfiguration before you became headmaster, didn't you?"
"A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration? Surely Minerva's already taught you everything in here?" Dumbledore flipped quizzically through the book.
"Yes, I want to learn what the books can't teach me."
"Well, you've come to the right person." Dumbledore tossed the book over his shoulder and stood. He strode to his desk and leaned against it, one hand buried contemplatively in his beard. "Harry, for all the time that I've watched you, you have only learned how to fight. Everything you mastered so far was to ensure your survival. But Harry, magic is so much more than a weapon. It lends itself particularly well to art." Dumbledore produced his wand and in a few graceful flourishes, the wooden floor before him rippled and sculpted itself into a sculpture of a Phoenix which moved with lifelike alacrity and sang at him.
"Whoa," Harry said, trying his best to watch what was happening with the Sight. Dumbledore's magic engulfed the wood, almost as if the magic was doing the work of human hands.
"Indeed," Dumbledore said, and with another wave the sculpture melted down into the floor as if it had never been there.
"How do you manipulate magic like that without spells?"
"Well, think of it this way. What is a spell but a wizard's desire for a particular outcome? Magic allows us to change the reality before us with thoughts and the incantations and gestures we use ensure that the spell does what we want it to consistently with every cast. But spells look different depending on the castor, as you know." Dumbledore flicked his wand again. A glowing white orb appeared before him.
"Take Lumos, for example. This is your textbook Lumos, a floating ball of white light. But change the intention with which you cast the spell and-" a brilliant spinning blue light appeared before him.
"And then a new spell is born. It doesn't matter what incantation I use as long as I know what I intended the spell to do. This concept is hard to grasp for many wizards who never go beyond using common spells because they lack the connection with magic that allows one to guide the magic into a shape that will manifest a desired result. It's the same principle behind wandless magic, silent casting, and even accidental magic."
"So you're saying I can get magic to do whatever I want?"
"It's not quite that simple, but yes."
"How do I start?"
"You start small, as before," Dumbledore began. "You're essentially making up new spells as you do this. The first step is to come up with an idea. What do you want the magic to do? Let's start with this."
Dumbledore waved his hand and a cube of wood rose from the ground. "Now, envision what you want this piece of wood to look like. Look past what you know about matter and imagine it forming into your desired shape."
Harry focused hard on the wood and watched it shimmer as it changed form into a sphere. It was a wonky one with a rough surface that looked as if it had been roughly whittled from a discarded piece of wood.
"That's a good start, Harry," Dumbledore said, inspecting Harry's work. "But you must pay more attention to the details. Think of it as building something of a schematic in your mind." Dumbledore continued explaining his method to Harry for the remainder of the afternoon. Harry was rewarded at the end of the session with a little wooden ball the size of the palm of his hand that was perfectly smooth as if it had grown out of the tree that way. Harry worked up a sweat thinking the ball into existence, but he felt more accomplished than he had in weeks.
"Professor, does this mean I can go back to casting in class now?" Harry asked as he was putting his bag on his shoulder to leave.
"Ah, of course," Dumbledore said, smiling. "On one condition, Harry. You must stop holding back. Now that I am here, you needn't worry about keeping your power concealed. You've earned the right to show off a little, reap the benefits of your hard work and all that."
"I'll try, Professor," Harry said bashfully. He scooted out the door before Dumbledore could say more.
It wasn't long before Dumbledore began to appear at every class. The first time it happened was during transfiguration. Professor McGonagall demonstrated a conjuration spell which could alter parts of the classroom. Each student was assigned to change a different part of the room. Harry had just pulled out his wand when it was snatched out of his fingers. He looked up to find Dumbledore smiling mischievously at him.
"Albus, what are you doing here?" Professor McGonagall inquired, looking quizzically at Dumbledore. "And why did you take Mr. Potter's wand?"
"Oh he doesn't need it, Minerva," Dumbledore said, smiling pleasantly at her. "Go on, Harry."
Knowing full well it was a test, Harry attempted to avoid the gazes of all his classmates and turned to his corner of the room. It was an area just to the right of Professor McGonagall's desk that contained a chalk board and a few bird cages. Harry waved his hand and the corner, birds and all, transformed into a cheerful fireplace with a few Gryffindor-red armchairs.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter-" Professor McGonagall began.
"Forgive me for interrupting, Minerva. You can do better than that, Harry," Dumbledore said, interrupting her. He nodded and gestured to Harry's work. "Again, and don't hold back, Harry."
Harry huffed, but knew better than to argue. Without looking at it again, he waved his hand at the wall he had just been working on and the scene changed again. The furniture and the fireplace melted into the walls to reveal embedded bookshelves intricately carved into the stone with floral carvings decorating each shelf. The bookshelves flanked a door made of sturdy hardwood with a golden doorknob again decorated with flowers etched into the medal. The door swung open to reveal a small solarium where sunlight shone freely through glass windows that lined the octagonal walls. Benches lined each wall to allow students to stare out into the surrounding landscape. Dumbledore nodded, finally satisfied. The students and McGonagall were astonished, gawking at Harry and the room he had just made out of thin air.
"We will be talking about this, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, sounding cross. "I'll see just how much you've been holding back." She cleared her throat and redirected the class to their respective assignments. Dumbledore turned to leave.
"Headmaster, wait," Harry began. "What about my wand?" Dumbledore turned back to him, no wand in his hands.
"Oh you'll find it at the end of the week," he said.
"End of the week?" Harry looked incredulously at Dumbledore. Dumbledore smirked at him, winking, and walked away. Harry returned to his classmates and awkwardly attempted to explain how he managed the feat he just displayed.
Harry was forced to go through the week without his wand. Every time he used magic, more of the school chattered about his sudden ability to use wandless, silent magic. To make matters worse, Dumbledore began appearing at random points throughout the day issuing various challenges to Harry in full view of most of the school.
During charms one day, Dumbledore walked in suddenly while the class was practicing the summoning charm. The students were practicing on various objects in the classroom. Harry was idly practicing the spell on a book. Dumbledore barged in suddenly, grabbed the book from Harry, tore the pages out of the spine, and chucked the pages out the window.
"Albus, what on Earth-" Flitwick began.
"I am so sorry about that Filius," Dumbledore said, as if surprised by the pages floating slowly down towards the grounds below. "I have no idea what came over me. Harry, you can fetch and reassemble that, can't you?"
Harry sighed and crossed his arms. "Really?" Dumbledore smiled and raised his eyebrows expectantly. Harry rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that the entire class had stopped what they were doing to watch and some had even opened another window to watch the pages of the book flapping about in the wind. Seeing that there was no other way out of this, Harry sighed and acquiesced.
"Seamus, Ron," he said, turning to the window where Ron and Seamus were trying to retrieve one of the fallen pages themselves. "Can you two move away from that window?" Ron hastily pulled Seamus back.
Seamus laughed, exclaiming, "He can't be serious." Others in the class had the same reaction.
Harry jerked his head, the telltale whistle of a spell the only indication he'd cast anything. The pages of the book zipped through the room at blistering speed, loudly coming together to rejoin its cover. Once it was fully reformed, it flew into Harry's outstretched hand with a light smack. He handed it back to Dumbledore. Dumbledore whistled.
"Not exactly the brief I gave you, but I'll accept it. Hour reversal charm?" he asked, flipping the book open to inspect the bindings.
"Something like that," Harry replied. "I wasn't about to summon each page individually."
"Did he just cast that spell with his nose?" Seamus asked.
"Yeah, and if you'd been standing by the window, I bet those sheets of paper would have cut off your head." Ron said, laughing. Seamus placed a hand protectively around his neck.
"Albus, what on earth did you teach him?" Professor Flitwick squeaked, remembering his voice.
"I didn't teach him that," Dumbledore said, handing the book back to Flitwick. "He's just been holding back. You should see what else he can do. He conjured a Phoenix made of fiend fire in my office the other day. Just dazzling."
'Headmaster, that's-" Harry began.
"Oh look at the time. I must get going. Sorry for the interruption again, everyone." With that, Dumbledore fled the classroom again, leaving Harry with Professor Flitwick who was looking up at Harry with a joyful expression and eyes as wide as dinner plates.
"Professor, I can't just cast that here, I'd burn the whole place down." As Harry said it, Flitwick's face fell, a deep pout forming in his wrinkled features. Harry felt so bad that he reached a hand into the air and conjured a Phoenix made of blue fire instead. His classmates watched it fly and sing in awe and ran their fingers through the cool flames as it passed over their heads.
Even during his free hours, Dumbledore managed to find him. Harry was innocently crossing the front courtyard when Dumbledore took him by surprise and stopped him in his tracks by latching onto his cloak.
"Whoa! Yes, Headmaster, did you need something from me?" Harry stumbled and recovered, looking hastily for whatever trick Dumbledore had up his sleeve next. To his surprise, there was nothing there but the empty courtyard.
"Harry, this courtyard is rather sad, don't you think?" Dumbledore said, surveying the courtyard before him. Students played gobstones and other games in one corner, but for the most part, the courtyard was admittedly rather boring.
"What do you want me to do about it?" Harry asked. Dumbledore shrugged. "Anything you want, just make it interesting." Harry floundered, wondering what he could do with the space. He saw Fred and George out of the corner of his eye and whistled to them.
"Hello Harry," they greeted, the lanky boys bounding up to him. "What can we do for you?' Fred asked.
"Quickly, think of your favorite landscape," Harry said, smiling mischievously at them. "Don't tell me what it is, just picture it in your mind." The twins cocked their eyebrows and struck identical thinking stances. They straightened a few moments later, and said "Got it!" in unison. Harry looked into their eyes and read their thoughts, which were of course identical.
"Your chaos never disappoints, lads," Harry said, cracking his knuckles. He held out both hands and the stone of the courtyard suddenly melted into soil. Water began pooling there as if from nowhere, forming two large lagoons. With a low rumble, large cedar and cypress trees sprung up in stylish patches, shooting up towards the sky and spreading spiderweb-like root systems which came together to form organic-looking pathways and bridges through the growing wetland. Shrubs formed around the trees followed by all manner of algae, reeds, and grasses. A large number of frogs, turtles, cicadas, and small fish sprang into existence and added a colorful soundtrack to the lush scene before him. Finally, magical and non-magical flowers bloomed everywhere, including the rare magical flowers that spewed glittering pollen in the air as people walked close by. When he finished, there was a fully functional wetland before him. The twins crowed and ran frolicking into the muddy marsh.Dumbledore stared at it contemplatively, hand buried in his beard.
"You did say I could make it about anything," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders.
"I like it," Dumbledore said. "Let's do this with other boring spaces, you know, spruce things up around here.
Harry thought he would be safe in herbology, and was particularly looking forward to that week's class. However, as he approached the greenhouses, he saw Dumbledore already there talking to Professor Sprout. They were both seated at the table at the front of the classroom.
"Ah, hello, Harry," Dumbledore said as Harry put down his bag.
"Oh no, what now?" Harry asked.
"What, I can't visit one of my own staff?" Dumbledore said, chuckling. "I was just talking to Professor Sprout about your assignments this week. The ministry has put out a call for more wolfsbane to replenish its research stock given the recent resurgence in lycanthropy research. Hogwarts has the largest horticultural facility in England and the Ministry's requested our help. Hogwarts will do its part and all of you will be learning to grow wolfsbane this term."
"I was just telling the headmaster that we won't have quite enough wolfsbane to meet our goals, even if every student were to cultivate a plant. It would only be enough to fill perhaps three greenhouses. We could always supplement with plants from private growers," Professor Sprout added innocently.
"I think I know where this is going," Harry said, shaking his head.
"What, you mean I would ask you to grow the remaining plants? Perish the thought, Harry. That would be excessive," Dumbledore said. After a moment's pause, he put his chin on his hands and looked Harry in the eye.
"But it would help us contribute more wolfsbane, you know, for that life-changing lycanthropy research. I heard Sirius is a key backer for that research initiative."
Dumbledore maintained eye contact with Harry, who fidgeted under his gaze until he finally broke. "Okay, fine."
"That's a good lad," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat. He led the class out to the gardens surrounding the greenhouses.
"If we are to meet the Ministry's requests, we would have to fill this field with wolfsbane," Professor Sprout said, gesturing to the field and a sack of wolfsbane seeds sitting in a nearby wheelbarrow. "But Albus, I don't understand. Is Harry going to grow it all himself? It would take most students a week to give a plant enough magic to grow it to full term." The gathered students wondered the same thing.
"Go on, Harry," Dumbledore said.
Harry held our both hands, palms facing up. The wolfsbane seeds sprang from the sack, tumbling into the soil of their own accord. Harry cast the appropriate spells, basic ones like aguamente and herbivicus, to accelerate the plants' growth, but on a huge scale. Row by row, stalks of wolfsbane shot up from the ground and bloomed purple and white flowers. Harry broke a sweat maintaining the spells, but felt the drain on his magical reserves was only moderate. When he was done, he'd filled about an acre of land with wolfsbane. Harry ended his spells and caught his breath.
"Now that one was a lot of work," he said, looking at Dumbledore. Dumbledore chuckled and patted Harry on the back.
"That was good work, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Pomona, will this be enough?"
Professor Sprout hadn't stopped staring at the field full of flowers. "Of course it is! If all the students cultivate at least one plant and we harvest all of this, I think those researchers will have plenty to work with for the next year at least. But Harry, how did you manage this? You must be completely exhausted."
"Oh, he's just been holding back this whole time. He's perfectly fine. Actually, he could probably grow a dozen more fields like this one. Not that he should, anyway." Dumbledore began walking away.
"Wait, don't I get my wand back now? I've done everything you asked," Harry said. Dumbledore laughed and continued walking.
By the end of the week, Harry was beside himself with anxiety, feeling incredibly exposed as news about his power spread. Despite his unease, he couldn't deny that he was a little proud of the feats he'd accomplished that week. At dinner the Friday, Harry walked into the Great Hall and froze as he saw Dumbledore standing there just behind the doors, waiting for him. He was staring up at the enchanted ceiling.
"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore said, not looking at him. "You're late for dinner."
"I was trying to sneak in," Harry said, closing the doors silently behind him. The other students had already begun dinner and most weren't paying attention to him.
"Hm, we'll keep working on that confidence," Dumbledore said, sighing. He gestured to the ceiling with his chin. "Don't you think the ceiling is a bit dated?"
"It's been the same for centuries, hasn't it?"
"Yes, but I think it's time for a change. You've done great work with the rest of the school."
"You mean when I landscaped the sundial courtyard, cleaned the owlry, refurbished the potions classroom, and installed a fountain in the quad? I'm starting to think this little test was just your excuse to get me to flip the school for you."
"Well sure, if I'm going to get you to perform incredible feats of magic, it might as well beautify the school. The grounds needed it. I was about to ask you if you had any ideas about this ceiling. The candles are nice, but I wanted to try something more cheery."
Harry couldn't deny that he had thought about the enchantments in the ceiling. They were elegant to be sure, but seeing the same old clouds and candles every day did grow tiring.
"You act like you don't want to, but I see those cogs turning," Dumbledore said, laughing softly. "Go on." Harry raised an eyebrow at him and shook his head, unable to keep the grin off his face. Harry waved his hand, weaving a complex web of enchantments, first crafting a lush canopy of trees that were a loving recreation of his favorite glade in the forbidden forest. The boughs were translucent and sprang from invisible tree trunks. Translucent leaves fell periodically to the floor, dissolving into the air long before they reached the floor. Next, he modified the existing spells emulating the night's sky so that it displayed a clear night where light from the milky way and the moon filtered through the canopy leaves. The light would follow a 24-hour day to night cycle, but the sky would remain clear. Then, a few more spells which would send a gentle, magical breeze blowing through the room, causing the trees to softly rustle and fill the room with the fresh, green smells of the forest. As he worked, all the students stopped what they were doing to watch the ceiling change. The students each smiled, laughed, and sighed in awe at the beautiful scene. It wasn't long before they noticed it was Harry who was making these changes. When he was done, Harry sighed in satisfaction, taking some time to appreciate his own handiwork. Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who had a soft smile on his face and a gleam in his eye. He held out his hand and Harry's wand appeared in it.
"You've earned this back," Dumbledore said as Harry took his wand back. Dumbledore turned on his heel and walked back towards the staff table. Harry pocketed his wand and joined his classmates at the Gryffindor table, ready to answer his classmates' eager questions.