If anyone asked, Harry would've gladly told them being blasted through a solid stone wall wasn't all that bad. Compared to his recent trauma, specifically Voldemort, it was almost nothing. His memory of the impact never woke him up sweating at night, not like the graveyard duel, which played out whenever he closed his eyes.

By far the worst part was the recovery period, as Madam Pomfrey had worked tirelessly to repair him… again. But the important fact was, it could've been a lot worse. Even though his breastplate had been largely untested, and then untouched for close to a year, it had certainly served its purpose well.

Not only had that single sheet of mithril protected him from the exploding Killing Curse, it had then absorbed the brunt of the wall too. Being mithril, it hadn't even broken, although the impact had warped it hideously.

Being mithril, the armour wasn't even completely beyond repair, although Harry didn't want to put in the considerable effort to fix it. That breastplate had been the first successful version, but he felt it was now time for an entirely new, better version.

The initial design, created just before the Quidditch World Cup, had been based on his encounter with Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets. Which, it had to be said, had served its purpose well against threats of that scale.

But then he'd fought the fully reborn, adult Lord Voldemort, not the weakened teenager of Tom Riddle. The graveyard duel had showcased a level of power that couldn't compare to anything Harry had faced before.

It was clear that his armour would need to become something far stronger. Something that he could trust to survive a direct and lethal hit, without leaving him in further danger, even if his opponent was Voldemort himself.

With the Summer imminent, Harry was planning on getting started as soon as possible. He was sure once he got into the flow of things again, ideas would once more appear to him. Till then, he'd started making a basic list of projects that he was determined to complete.

While Hermione's tragic death in their first year had opened his eyes to the dangers that lurked in the magical world, he'd still ended up treating his mithril creations merely as fun projects. Those projects had still been useful, but their creation had been a question of if he could, not if he needed them.

Now the danger was a tangible threat, forcing Harry to realise he couldn't afford such childishness. Voldemort was out there now, and would always pose a threat to Harry. A threat he'd use his mithril to its full deadly potential, to completely destroy Voldemort.

But first, he had to convince Madam Pomfrey to let him go home, back to the safety of Dumbledore's cottage. She had argued that Harry could only go once he got out of bed and flooed himself home, although she'd then been incredibly displeased when he fell trying to do exactly that.

For his part, Dumbledore was also quite eager to see Harry home, partially given Harry was running out of guards. Most of the teachers had already gone home for the Summer, few of which were capable of doing much anyway. Dumbledore himself could've done it, if he wasn't spending most of his time rushing around, trying to prepare for Voldemort.

Remus had left for a mission just a few hours before Harry had been attacked, an attack which had then revealed Moody to be a disguised Death Eater. Sirius had remained, but needed to remain in dog form, limiting his effectiveness.

Then, you had the ministry, who had started demanding for Tonks to arrange her first official Auror debriefing, which she could only put off for so long.

As a response, Hagrid had been temporarily called back, who'd been preparing for his own mission. At the same time, Professor Flitwick had stepped forward, volunteering his time while Tonks was catching up on sleep between writing her reports.

But, finally a week after everyone else had gone home, he'd mustered up the strength to make it through the floo, following an equally eager Tonks. Sirius had wanted to join them, but Dumbledore had sent private orders, leading to Sirius promising they'd meet again soon.

With him safely under his own Mithril Wards, inside Dumbledore's own cottage, they'd all agreed he'd be safe enough. While it allowed Tonks the time needed to attend her meetings, it left Harry alone with his frustrations and his work.

At first, Harry had focused on recreating his old gear, notably his breastplate, shield and saber. But, then he'd moved onto improving those designs, and hit a wall. He had those ideas in his head, but he couldn't figure out how to get them to work.

The result was a feverish few days, where night and day muddled into each other. He'd created more raw mithril in that time than perhaps any other, and yet his projects remained stubbornly unfinished.

He'd jump out of bed at night when a new idea struck, and spent a few hours tinkering until it failed, whereupon he'd crawl back into bed as the rising sun poked its way past his curtains.

Then after a few days of this, Harry was disturbed from his routine, as Nicholas had returned.

The aged alchemist had visited immediately after the attack, but had needed to leave again before Harry had even awoken. Given Nicholas had been with his dying wife Perenelle, planning her funeral, Harry hadn't seen fit to complain.

Back before he'd left the Hospital Wing, Nicholas had left a message for Harry to leave his new mithraite crystal alone. Seeing as Harry had felt that mithraite would've gone a long way to helping his projects, it was a rather impatient Harry that awaited him.

An impatience that had nearly been equally mirrored by the aged man, right up until he got a good look at his young apprentice.

"Ah Harry, I would say I'm glad to see you're doing better, but frankly you look like shit. You should be resting, recovering your health." Nicholas tutted, prodding at the bags under Harry's eyes with an unusual strength given his frail papery hands.

"I have been resting, this is me taking it easy, sitting around and not doing anything physical." Harry protested, trying his best to get to his full height.

"Right then, if you insist. Now, I trust you haven't used that mithraite yet?" Nicholas asked, already shuffling through the cottage and out towards the shed where the bismuth kiln had been.

"No, I haven't even looked at it yet. The wait has been killing me." Harry replied, inadvertently imitating the old man shuffle, taking a short limp every time his injured ankle took his weight.

As the shed door creaked open, an involuntary gasp escaped Harry's lips, as his heart sank at the sight that greeted him. The kiln, one he'd paid the goblins dearly for, now lay shattered and broken, its fragments scattered across the floorboards.

Given the size of the mithril cube he'd originally fed it, he was further disheartened to see he perhaps had two fists worth of crystal. Even then, the exact quantity of mithraite was hard to gauge amidst the shattered fragments, as it was abundantly clear that the mithraite had fallen with the kiln, shattering into fractured pieces upon impact.

A mixture of frustration and determination welled up within Harry. The pieces, though broken, were not entirely lost. He could still salvage them, as even in their shattered state, each shard was a well of power and potential.

With careful fingers, Harry gathered the larger fragments, feeling their edges beneath his touch. The sensation was both gritty and smooth, but above it all they were warm, as if each had its only pulse. Holding a few up into the light, Harry contented himself with the knowledge they were far larger than the tiny granules they'd previously taken from the Gauntlet.

"Now that is a shame." Nicholas bemoaned, shifting through the small pile of crystals with far more purpose than Harry had. Finally, the man pulled from deep within the pile, revealing a relatively large stone. "Would you be opposed if I took this gem back to France with me, Harry?"

"Um, can I ask why? I'd prefer to hold onto the larger ones," Harry inquired, curious about his tutor's intent. The unpolished crystal itself was about the size of his knuckle, the type that would've worked great upon the hilt of a sword.

"With luck, it will be for your Gauntlet." Nicholas answered easily, "I've come to realise that we might have made a mistake when we removed the original mithraite crystals from it.

"It seems plausible that the Gauntlet had generated those crystals to help manage your Soul Gem. By removing them, we eliminated the eventual buffer between the Philosopher's Stone and the Soul Gem."

"So, if we add that crystal, it might help control the Soul Gem?" Harry quickly grasped the concept.

"Exactly, that's my hope. But I don't want to incorporate this crystal as it currently is. I believe the same process that made my Philosopher's Stone so potent could elevate your mithraite to similar heights of power."

Really, it wasn't a hard decision to make, one Harry barely blinked at. "Oh, okay great. It's yours to take then!"

"I thought you'd see it my way." Nicholas nodded, chuckling as with a negligent flick of his wand, the piles of gems floated into the air. Even a few caught between the floorboards worked themselves loose, joining the mass freely floating.

A second flick conjured a smooth glass bowl, which soured underneath and neatly stored the mithraite within. The image was only slightly ruined when a third swish merely resulted in Nicholas frowning sternly at the remains of the kiln.

"Hmm, I had forgotten that the kiln was made of bismuth, no wonder it broke. You'll need to dispose of it the muggle way, unless you want to try to repair it.

"Now, I think you need to go back to your room and go to bed… although perhaps you'd best take a shower first." Nicholas instructed a blushing Harry, "As normally, I'll be back in a week. I expect you to have gotten your sleep schedule sorted out by then.

"If not, I'll be having stern words with Albus. He should be here, caring for you, not galivanting about collecting membership fees for his group."

With the mithraite crystals finally in his possession, Harry finally felt he was getting somewhere. The first project he'd finished was his new saber, his official mark II.

The new version had kept the fairly plain silver cylinder hilt, although it was now long enough to allow both hands to grasp it. The other visual change was the seven glowing green crystals evenly spaced around the emitter. These crystals were there to help guide and control the blade, improving upon the slightly passive control the original hilt had used.

With the crystals, Harry had been able to add a second mithril generator, in turn making a blade that was far stronger than its deceased counterpart. This strength partially showed itself in an increased width and length, but it was hard to notice.

When the blade reached its full power, the stabilised mithrilium bypassed the normal emerald green glow, and into a near white sheen. If he pushed the blade any further, he'd quickly found out the blade would break confinement, at best reducing the hilt into a half-molten mess.

But, that wasn't an issue, as he'd rarely needed the old blade at its own full strength. Instead, the new mithril generator was for that added control. His hope was that the next time the blade matched a killing curse, the additional generator would help cover the load, preventing another explosion.

After he'd managed to completely destroy several targets and strong shields with the blade, without so much as a flicker, Harry had deemed it finished. He'd then immediately made it a twin, before placing one saber into his pocket, and another set aside.

Given he had access to a near-infinite amount of mithril, he had no idea why he'd kept his old designs limited to just one finished version. However, he couldn't help but find the bitter irony distasteful; now that he had two finished sabers, he had only a single hand to wield them with.

The issue of his cursed stump had continued to thwart him, especially as he feared the proximity to its biting dark residual was partially to blame for his lethargy. The one time he'd attempted to cure himself hadn't ended well, when his pained cries had been enough to awaken Tonks and Dumbledore, who'd stormed in with drawn wands.

As such, he'd resorted to hiding his stump in a temporary mithril shell. The shell helped soothe the pain, and provided a nice buffer whenever he'd unthinkingly reach for something. He disliked how this shell often kept his arm feeling itchy, and its presence made his missing limb feel permanent in a way the actual wound didn't.

But, it did its job, and while he knew he could likely add a mithraite powered hand onto that shell, he didn't want to waste that much mithraite when his repaired Gauntlet might already have the answer.

Instead, he'd moved back onto his breastplate design, where'd he'd settled onto a final variant. In truth, it was more like it was composed of two parts, although they were unconventionally connected.

The first was a form fitting layer, which sat upon his bare skin like a normal shirt. Around the neckline and hem, he'd literally sprinkled the smallest mithraite crystals, those that had been reduced to a near powder.

Their cumulative effect allowed that mithril shirt a fluidity similar to silk, allowing him to easily pull it on or off. By itself, that fluidity made it an improvement over the old version, which he'd always needed to crawl into.

Being mithril, that newest mithril shirt hadn't even lost that much of its strength with the added fluidity. But, just in case, Harry had then taken up his chisel, and carefully drawn a great many runes upon the metal.

Most were for all manner of shields, which had simply been copied over from the old breastplate. But, there was a slightly increased focus on absorbing physical impacts. However, a few of the runes had instead been used for keeping the mithril clean.

The metal itself had some degree of self-cleaning, resisting dust and stains. But, Harry had noticed the old breastplate had still trapped his sweat and blood, which had slowly accumulated over time.

It hadn't been an issue to occasionally clean it, but it was one less thing to worry about with the new version. He'd intended for the old version to be an all day armour, but the few issues had been enough of an inconvenience to avoid wearing it fully.

As such, every upgrade he'd installed into the new breastplate had been focused on increased comfort, to make his armour convenient enough to be worn as intended. If that ended up with the shirt no longer looking like a true breastplate, it was a cost he was willing to bear.

But, that wasn't where the advancement stopped. The mithril shirt would predominantly go under his clothes, which would limit the abuse it could take. As such, a second larger layer would be placed overtop, taking up the bulk of protection.

This outer layer took the typical design of a breastplate, although it still differed from the original. Where the first version had been designed after a typical mediaeval european breastplate, this new version was purely functional.

It consisted of a simple yet effective design, covering just Harry's upper chest and shoulders with a considerable mass of mithril. Where in the past Harry might've wasted time embellishing his designs, this breastplate's surface was smooth, devoid of any decorative patterns or intricate engravings.

Both layers would always be linked, keeping them as one full breastplate, but the outer layer would only appear when called. To facilitate this, Harry had first formed the bulkier outer breastplate, taking extra care to leave a void of space between his skin and the mithril.

This outer layer was then fed into a sizable mithraite crystal. The actual feeding part had been unintentional, as Harry had placed the crystal onto the breastplate. He'd merely instructed it to memorise the armour, when the mithril had seemingly been sucked into the crystal.

At first he'd scrambled away in alarm, only calming when the crystal showed no sign of absorbing anything else. Cautiously, he'd poked it, at which point he'd gotten the weird sensation of touching the prior breastplate.

After some experimentation, he'd figured out feeding that crystal more magic led to the breastplate reappearing. The mithril creeped out of the emerald crystal, reforming the armour within a few seconds, whilst keeping the mithraite front and centre.

Instantly, he'd picked up more crystals to experiment, only to quickly hit a limit. It seemed like the crystals would turn the silver mithril back into pure magic, which would then be stored. By itself, this wasn't dissimilar to how his mithril itself could expand and shrink according to his whim.

The miraculous part was the crystal was able to independently remember and recreate whatever it had been fed. The only limitation was the crystal needed to be large enough to store it.

Tiny crystals, those that made up most of his inventory, were barely able to hold mithril of an equally tiny mass. But, scaled up to a crystal two inches long, there was enough internal space to store a bulky breastplate, although it seemed that was its limit.

Not for the first time, Harry swore at the kiln breaking, as it would've been fascinating to see what a large crystal could've stored. For now, it proved a very convenient method of transporting the breastplate, but Harry vowed he would get his hands on a full sized mithraite crystal at some point.

But, he'd quickly found the storage came at a considerable cost. The ideologies he'd formed the breastplate with, would be retained after storage. But any runes he'd drawn would be lost upon being recalled to storage.

Equally, only mithril could be stored. The steel plate he'd transfigured onto the mithril had simply fallen to the floor once the mithril had been recalled, and had remained there once the mithril had reformed.

Fortunately, those limitations hadn't stopped him for long, as he'd affixed the crystal onto a mithril chain, and then placed the chain around his neck. The chain itself then had multiple metaphysical tethers to the mithril shirt underneath.

When the bulky breastplate was called, it would merge onto the chain, where the ideologies could be passed through. As he'd already heavily enchanted the undershirt, Harry had realised he could copy his mithril wards design.

Rather than repeatedly draw runes onto the breastplate to recreate the same shields, the ideologies took the shields made from the undershirt, and expanded them. With minor modifications to the undershirt, he'd been able to create a trigger function.

To call his armour, he'd simply need to fish the crystal out from his clothes, then feed it a touch of magic. Within less than five seconds, the outer breastplate would be fully formed, with shields activated.

He just needed to ensure the crystal didn't activate from within his clothes, as one jumper had already been torn to shreds by the armour relentlessly forming underneath.

There would always be more improvements to add, a fact Harry had designed the entire breastplate with in mind. For now, both the mithril shirt and breastplate would serve him well.

With those initial two projects out of the way, he'd hoped to continue that progress, but instead hit a roadblock. His main aim had been to fully replace what he'd lost, hence his new saber and breastplate.

Out of what remained to be replaced, his mithrilium sleeve was possibly his biggest loss, having been destroyed alongside his arm. With the sleeve gone, he'd also lost a multitude of secondary items, which had been linked to it.

Most of those items had already been easily replaced in his spare time, such as his general tools, water flask, or spear. Being some of the first mithril items he'd ever made, recreating them was done in moments.

But then there were more intricate items like his shield, which he'd always been tinkering with. Not only had the loss of his shield lowered his present defensive capabilities, it meant years of advancement had been lost.

In a similar boat was his key, which had been a part of the sleeve itself. Although being relatively simple by itself, Harry had been improving it for years. Starting from Malfoy Manor, any new lock he found, he'd modified his key to be able to open it.

As such, with a wave of his arm he'd have been able to break into the Malfoy's attic, the headmaster's office, or even bypass the Ravenclaw riddle. In his foolish naivety, he'd never documented how he'd done so, having never considered the fact he'd lose that key.

Outside of that key, the sleeve itself had mainly been used for summoning other inventions, an ability easily replicated onto any other creation. But deciding what to replicate it onto was a problem he'd been struggling with.

The ability to summon his tools and creations was indispensable, streamlining his work and enhancing his capabilities. Without it, he found himself constantly searching for tools or laboriously recreating tools he'd forgotten about prior to needing them, a far cry from the efficiency the sleeve had offered.

Another sleeve, this time within his right arm, would in theory work as well as the previous sleeve. But, given how much abuse his left arm had suffered, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to tempt fate onto his right arm. Instead, he'd planned on using his Gauntlet for that purpose.

Then, with just two days left until Nicholas' return, a neat solution made itself known, even if it had waited a week. Harry hadn't considered the missing sleeve a pressing issue, yet it continued to subtly annoy him.

Then, yet another failed shield had fallen, and Harry had instinctively tried to catch it with his missing left hand. Of course, the shield had bounced right off the mithril shell covering his stump, disturbing a cluster of similarly faulty shields.

But, it had sparked his imagination. In short order, he'd set a mithraite crystal upon the end of the stump, then started imbuing the summoning capabilities of the old sleeve into his arm's shell.

While he'd kept the items separate from the physical shell, he'd made liberal use of metaphysical tethers, keeping his tools intangible until called. When those tools weren't in use, he'd programmed them to float around his arm,

Technically, the crystal wasn't needed for such a basic task, but it felt like the right course of action. Even then, the crystal's main task was to instead control a levitation charm when triggered.

After some trial and error, Harry managed to calibrate the levitation charm, such that he could somewhat naturally 'grasp' an object, and manipulate it as he would've with his old hand. Without the crystal, that level of control would've taken considerable conscious thought.

As it was, the crystal still needed to contend with the dark curse lingering in his arm, which really didn't want to be invalidated. But it was a solution for two of his problems, so Harry considered it a big success.

The next time Nicholas showed up, Harry had recovered enough to actually welcome him at the door. But, it seemed since their last meeting their roles had reversed, as his mentor now seemed to bear a heavy weariness.

"Good morning, Nicholas, are you doing alright?" Harry asked in concern, hardly relieved when a sad smile slid onto Nicholas' face. A smile that notably didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm fine. Perhaps we might move this conversation to your room?"

Being Kendra Dumbledore's old room, Harry had the largest bedroom in the house, most of which he'd converted into another workshop. With his single bed tucked away under the window, Harry had done his best to maximise the space he had to work with.

Having taken the time to tidy, his room was in a rare case of 'being presentable'. Despite that, numerous opened books still covered his desk, with several more simply floating beside it.

Just that morning, it had been tricky to even get to the desk, as a great many failed projects had littered the floor. The worst offenders had been reduced to raw magic and reabsorbed, but there had simply been too much for Harry to safely do that for them all.

As such, Nicholas gave a critical eye at the mountain of loot decorating the corners of Harry's room. As he'd seen the inside of Nicholas' own workshop, Harry felt the man didn't have much room to be critical. According to Perenelle, there were projects Nicholas had put aside centuries ago, which had slowly become load bearing junk.

But, to his surprise, Nicholas didn't otherwise react, merely sinking into a chair and sighing.

"I trust you've had a productive week, Harry… Although it seems that book disagreed with you." Nicholas pointed out wryly, pointing at an open book with a half dozen darts sticking out of it.

"Ah, no I was actually testing out a type of divination." Harry replied truthfully, although that didn't stop his blush.

"Oh?" Nicholas asked wryly, raising an intrigued eyebrow, as a true smile finally gracing his wizened face. While his mentor had lived for many lifetimes, with the majority spent learning about magic, he'd never gained much faith in divination.

Enough to concede it as a true magical art, but he didn't put as much stock into it as Harry did.

"Yes, 'Oh'. I'd gotten a bit stuck on what to do, and thought, why not leave it to chance? So, I took that book on weapons, then charmed it to flip its pages back and forth, like it's in a breeze. After that, I just threw a dart at it to pick a page."

"Well, it certainly seems like the requirements for divination have gone down since I last looked into the subject."

Rolling his eyes at Nicholas, but otherwise deciding to ignore the man's humour, Harry continued his explanation.

"My problem was it landed on a page about a shield, so I took the dart out and tried again… and again. No matter how many darts I threw, all of them landed on the exact same page. I tried everything I could think of, short of just tearing that page out."

"Now that, that is unusual." Nicholas commented, rising to his feet and checking the book for himself. "But why are all the darts in it now?"

"Stress relief." He replied cheerfully, still confident the book had deserved its punishment. "I decided if the book is going to mock me like that, I'd keep throwing my darts at it."

"Quite right too… So, I take it this 'Dartomancy' is based on a real principle?"

"I don't quite know if I call it that myself, but essentially. It originates from Stichomancy, which is an established type of divination. Other than the fact it didn't give me the result I wanted, my dart casting was a perfectly valid divination."

"Well, why isn't it the result you wanted? What's stopping you from making a shield?" Nicholas prompted. Despite his own lack of belief, he'd still support his apprentice, to the best of his abilities.

"A few things. First, I need something to tether it to. My watch was the tether for the old shield, but its power was linked to the mithrilium sleeve in my arm. With that arm now gone," Harry's voice tightened, "the watch doesn't have the power to support the old shield, let alone a better one."

With his frustrating failure brought back to the surface, Harry couldn't stop the tightness that infected his voice.

While Nicholas definitely recognised Harry's frustration, he didn't allow it to get in his way, instead digging further into the problem. "Break it down then. Why can't you make a new sleeve?"

"Because I'm hoping my Gauntlet can heal my arm, which means I can then get a fully operational mithril arm, like what Wormtail was given. That mithril arm would have vastly more power than my old sleeve did. But… well-"

"But you needed me to fix it first." Nicholas finished, nodding in understanding, before letting out a very large sigh. "Well, in that, I suppose I have news for you. You'd better sit down."

Despite the prior direction of their conversation, Harry felt a slight dread given Nicholas' grave tone. As such, he silently took a seat on his bed, waiting for what was to come.

"So… Well, I have never been good at this. You should know, we were able to enchant your mithraite. But, to ensure it would be as strong as possible, Perenelle gave her life to do so."

There was a moment, where Harry could only blink dumbly, before the full weight of Nicholas' words struck him. Then, he found it hard to breathe, as his heart began pounding uncontrollably.

Perhaps detecting his apprentice's shock, Nicholas kept talking, knowing Harry needed something to focus upon.

"Last week, on Friday, me and Perenelle began experimenting with your crystal. It's definitely crystalline, but that's about as far as we could tell. Just like your mithril, it's impossible to look further, to see elemental composition. But, we'd worked out enough to know we had a chance.

"Our original equation, allowing the use of a crystal for an alchemy stone instead of stone, would still work. And of course, while we've only made one Philosopher's Stone, we have improved the original experiment considerably. But, by Monday we made a decision.

"What we've never told anyone, is the cost and sacrifice it took to make the original Stone. Endless health comes at an equal cost, a cost of life. Me and Perenelle both sacrificed our ability to have any more children, and it turned out our existing children couldn't take the elixir of life either.

"But, we can only sacrifice our fertility once, and we unanimously refused to let you make the mistakes we'd made. So Perenelle began designing a ritual to sacrifice her remaining life."

With Nicholas' explanation serving its purpose, Harry regained enough control to argue back.

"But why? I didn't ask for this, I didn't ask for any of this! Nothing was worth someone's life!" Harry yelled, getting up in Nicholas' face, trying to make him feel the same emotions Harry had been struck with.

"Why? Do you not think we had reasons for doing everything? Harry, my Philosopher's Stone was regarded as the strongest artefact of its generation. Your mithril took my Stone and made it stronger. Add that Soul Gem into the mix, and what do you think happens?

"That Gauntlet, the one you've made without even realising it, is beyond anything me and Perenelle have ever made. That, keeping that protected, is well worth a life. We've been alive for centuries, long enough to see our family line die.

"My descendants, among them the Delacours, cannot use Flamel magic. They lack the Flamel alchemy boon, the very name of Flamel is dead and forgotten." Nicholas paused, his eyes distant as if lost in the memories of centuries. "All my legacy, it rests within your memories, and upon your Gauntlet."

Harry clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, his mind racing to grasp the enormity of what was being said.

"It was Perenelle's right to ensure our legacy lived on, for as long as we could manage," Nicholas continued, his voice softer now. "She was already dying, Harry. She had perhaps one more year anyway, of long days as she first lost her remaining magic, then her memories, then her very sense of self."

The weight of Nicholas' words pressed upon Harry, the room feeling smaller, air heavier. "It was my wife's sacrifice," Nicholas concluded, his voice filled with a reverence Harry had never heard before, "and it was beautiful."

After that, several minutes passed in heavy silence, the room enveloped in a sombre stillness. And for Harry, there was an added measure of guilt that weighed on him like a leaden cloak.

He'd never really gotten to know Perenelle, beyond the surface of her identity. She'd always just been 'Nicholas' wife', a friendly face. Someone who'd attended occasional celebrations, who'd stood beside his mentor as they'd given him a gift.

It was hard connecting those sparse memories of her with the realisation that she was now dead. Her laughter and wisdom confined to the past, forever out of reach with no possibility of creating new memories or forging a deeper connection.

It was a bitter realisation that struck at Harry's heart, a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of life and the missed opportunities to know someone truly remarkable.

"Now, onto lighter matters, the crystal. It took to the ritual even better than the Philosopher's Stone had. But, of course, that might be due to different outcomes. We'd realised, you don't need a second transmutation device. That allowed us to streamline the old ritual significantly, boosting its power instead."

So saying, Nicholas withdrew a small leather pouch, from which he levitated the mithraite crystal, and for just a single moment, the crystal shone with its full power.

It wasn't blinding, it was indeed remarkably easy to look at. But, the crystal was filled with such a light, the rest of the otherwise brightly lit room felt dim in comparison. It was even impossible to tell what type of light it was giving off, as for a wild moment, Harry thought it was emitting every light.

And then, without any fanfare, the light shut off. Without that light, the crystal did seem less imposing, but it would always stand out from a pile of mithraite.

For one, it shared that inner fire from the Philosopher's Stone, each holding a single flame trapped within. But where the Stone's flame was Nicholas' scarlet red, the crystal's flame was Perenelle's cool blue.

But, at some point since he'd last seen it, it had also physically changed. When Nicholas has taken it, it has gone from a rough uncut gem, to what was clearly identifiable as a teardrop crystal.

It was even hard to tell how much of its light was from within, and how much was the room's light reflecting off its polished surface. But, it was undeniable that some of its light came from within, for there was no other source of its unnatural all consuming light.

"Well, don't just stand there, give it a wave!" Nicholas demanded excitedly, floating the crystal over to him. Acting on pure instinct, Harry let the gem fall into his palm, before realising Nicholas' likely had a reason for not touching the crystal.

The rush of power that instantly filled him was both startling and invigorating. What residual exhaustion he'd felt, was seemingly washed aside, while all his senses seemed completely refreshed.

But, he understood innately it came at a cost. Just like the Philosopher's Stone, it was an unnaturally strong generator of magic. But, that's roughly where the comparison stopped, as Harry instantly understood what Nicholas had meant by streamlining the ritual.

Unlike the Philosopher's Stone, whose power generation was primarily there to fuel otherwise impossible rituals and transmutations. Harry's ability to draw upon its story was an unintended side effect.

In comparison, this new crystal was only made to be a power generator, its entire purpose was to be strong. It would likely do other tasks if asked, but it would only be a secondary purpose at most.

Strangely, as Harry felt the rush of power subside, he could feel the mithraite crystal had subtly linked to the mithrilium in his head. He hadn't expected the crystal to try and reach out to the liquid mithril, especially given their relative distance across his body.

Whatever was happening between the two, he got the sense it was all that had kept the power rush from punishing him, a protection that wouldn't be afforded to anyone who wasn't called 'Harry Potter'.

Suddenly unnerved at the potentially dangerous nature of the crystal, he quickly set it to levitate in the air. With the crystal out of the way, he pulled the Gauntlet ring from his pocket, and held it up. He was just on his way to putting it on, when he was once again reminded of his missing hand.

Although he could've simply applied the ring to his other hand, he instead felt a touch of inspiration. Without the ring actually being on his finger, he gave it the mental command to open out.

Strangely, in the three years he'd owned the Gauntlet, it had only been fully formed off his hand once before. That had been when it was less than a day old, back when it looked vastly different from its current state.

Even then, it had already been fully formed when he'd taken it off, and had remained so after he'd put it back on. Admittedly, back then he'd kept the Gauntlet ring on his hand near constantly, fearing it'd get lost otherwise.

As he'd grown used to its presence, he'd been more lenient, letting it sit elsewhere. Then of course adding the Soul Gem had essentially killed it, making it unsafe to wear for long.

Now, as it slowly unfurled from the ring, it was clear that both the years, and Harry, hadn't been kind to it. As normal, the Philosopher's Stone easily transmuted itself, seeming to spring from a tiny jewel on the ring, to taking up most of the back of the gauntlet's hand.

In comparison, the Soul Gem was clearly more stubborn, even as it grew from a tiny stud to taking up most of the ring finger knuckle. But, its path was decidedly sluggish, and left a brief dark stain upon the mithril.

Then, the recently added beige alchemy stones jostled for position around the Gauntlet, although they focused around the Soul Gem. Seeing as they were helping keep that gem under control, Harry couldn't protest their presence, but even now he still thought of them as unsightly.

Not that the rest of the Gauntlet was a masterpiece itself. In its youth, it had seemed almost like a silken glove, merely textured into pure silver. Other than the bright scarlet rock upon its back, his Gauntlet matched the rest of his unnaturally perfect mithril.

But, between being infused with basilisk venom and being repeatedly tainted by dementors, the mithril had grown a sickly green, with a pitted and warped texture. What was harder to note, was how much mobility it had lost, the result of the Soul Gem and foreign alchemy stones.

It likely still functioned like a glove, but less silky, and more decayed leather. With his new understanding of his mithraite, Harry even understood why. The Philosopher's Stone had been the cause of its flexibility, independently changing the mithril by itself.

With the Stone's new focus of containing the Soul Gem, it seemed the mithril had been their silent battleground.

So, not quite sure what to expect, Harry gently laid the Gauntlet upon his desk, before reaching out and retaking the mithraite crystal. Without wasting any more time, Harry brought it over, only to be shocked as the crystal wormed its way free of his grasp to fling itself upon the Gauntlet.

Entirely by itself, the crystal settled into its new spot, taking up residence on the middle finger's knuckle. There was a brief moment of quiet, before both mithraite crystal and Philosopher's Stone flared brilliantly, surrounding the frigid Soul Gem in fiery light.

Well, I had meant for this chapter to come out earlier, but I managed to catch Covid just as my theatre work was beginning. Gotta say, I don't recommend it. Recovering from that, and also catching up on my work left little time left.

But, I think overall I've had a lot of fun writing again, which I'm hoping to continue moving forwards.

In regards to my question in the last chapter 'More Daphne chapters?' I managed to get an equal number of yes' and no's. Either way, it'll be some time until that option comes up.

Things I think need explaining:

- The Story length: Obviously this story has been going for 4 years now, and I know I'm forgetting some things, so I don't expect you to remember it all either. As such, for a general message, I'll say this.

You all have permission to either PM me or leave a review asking about what something is about. Trust me, I love talking about this stuff, so I'll be happy to provide any context.