CHAPTER 18: SHATTERED FOUNDATIONS
Harry's eyelids fluttered, gradually revealing the soft glow of an unfamiliar light. It differed from the sterile illumination of the Hogwarts hospital wing; this was an entirely different realm. As awareness seeped into his consciousness, Harry tentatively lifted his right arm, observing the intricate silver sheath that now covered his once-vicious wound.
"Shadow," Harry rasped, turning his head to the left. To his surprise and comfort, his father stood there, a palpable sense of relief etched across his features.
"I was on the brink," Harry confessed in a hoarse whisper, his throat protesting with each uttered word. His father gently pressed a finger against Harry's lips, urging him to withhold his words for a moment.
"Don't speak just yet," cautioned his father, reaching behind him to retrieve a specific potion from an array of twenty on small pedestals. The room held an aura of magical remedies, each vial and flask hinting at the intricacies of recovery.
"Your injuries were gruesome," his father continued, a shadow of worry lingering in his eyes. "I nearly had a heart attack when you materialized during my meeting with Bellatrix. We summoned Narcissa Malfoy, one of the finest healers, but even her skills couldn't mend everything." Retrieving the chosen potion, his father offered it to Harry, who eagerly gulped it down. The elixir cascaded down his throat, providing a soothing coolness that alleviated the burning sensation.
"It was the bird," Harry coughed out, his voice gradually regaining strength as the potion worked its magic on his weary body. With each breath, the weight that had burdened his lungs seemed to lift.
His father listened intently, absorbing every detail. The room crackled with an unspoken tension, the aftermath of a battle fought and wounds barely healed. Yet, in the exchange of words and the unspoken understanding between father and son, a connection forged in the crucible of adversity, there was a glimmer of hope. The narrative expanded, the dialogue deepened, and the scene unfolded with newfound richness.
"The Phoenix of Dumbledore," Harry resumed, his voice gaining strength, "it wept over Daemon, and when I touched it—"
"Your flesh burned," Voldemort interjected, his gaze fixated on the silver sheath covering Harry's wrist. The room seemed to tense with the weight of unspoken revelations.
"In the night, I was blessed. I took blood oaths to the shadows and embraced the runes of the night," Harry explained, a sense of solemnity in his tone. "A Phoenix is a creature of purity and cleanliness. It tried to mend me, didn't it?"
His father sighed, avoiding direct eye contact as if wrestling with the gravity of the situation. "Yes, its tears are said to heal everything. It can extinguish a vampire because the vampire, by nature, should have met its end. Your blood, saturated with the essence of the night, and your skin—practically resembling that of a vampire in every aspect."
Harry let out a heavy sigh, absorbing the implications of his transformed being. With deliberate movements, he lifted himself off the bed and onto the floor. The cool surface beneath his bare chest sent a shiver through him, but his focus remained on the silver and flawless flesh adorning his shoulder. He couldn't help but dread inspecting his own face, fearing the worst.
The room hung in a pregnant pause, the air thick with unspoken apprehension. The dialogue between father and son delved deeper into the intricacies of Harry's transformation, unveiling a complex tapestry of magical bonds, blessings, and the interplay of light and shadow. The scene extended, allowing the reader to witness Harry's self-discovery and the layers of magic woven into his very being.
"I'm condemned to be like this forever, aren't I?" Harry spat out bitterly, running his fingers over the transformed skin on the left side of his face.
"Shadow, do you understand why I chose you as my heir?" Voldemort's question hung in the air, his eyes fixed on Harry with an expectant expression.
"Because I despise the light?" Harry responded with a bitter chuckle, a hint of a smile playing on his lips despite the bitterness that lingered.
"No, Shadow. If I valued you solely for your hatred, you'd be a mere Death Eater," Voldemort explained, gesturing toward the distinctive mark on Harry's skin. It depicted Nagini and Coilis, loosely coiled and entwining, creating a space for a skull between their two tails. It was the emblem of Shadow.
"You possess something more," Voldemort continued, his tone carrying a weight of significance. "This mark signifies your uniqueness and destiny. You are not bound by the limitations of others. Embrace your nature, for it is what sets you apart."
As Harry traced the intricate lines of the mark, a mix of emotions surged within him. The revelation added layers to his identity, offering a glimmer of purpose within the enigma of his existence. The dialogue unfolded, expanding the narrative to explore the intricacies of Harry's connection to Voldemort and the symbolic significance of the Shadow mark.
"I took you in because you reminded me of myself. And one thing I know, Shadow, is that if anyone can figure out how to fix this, it will be you," Voldemort admitted, his words carrying both a challenge and a belief in Harry's capabilities.
Harry's lips curved into a genuine smile, and he shifted his gaze away, focusing on the door before him. "Your old cloak didn't survive; the shadows dispersed too quickly for it to be of any use." Harry stole a glance at the cloak, its fabric marred by brutal burns and melted seams, a testament to the intensity of the recent events.
"...I must return to Hogwarts. Coilis is waiting, and Dumbledore will grow suspicious if even one student is up past curfew," Harry explained, realizing that his father hadn't yet heard the details of the perilous situation.
"Why is that?" Voldemort inquired, curiosity evident in his eyes.
"Because the Sorcerer's Stone was nearly stolen right from under his nose," Harry disclosed, a hint of urgency in his voice. "I must go, father."
"Be swift, Shadow."
"Always will be."
The shadows enveloped Harry, concealing his form as they transported him back to Hogwarts. As he materialized on his bed, Harry silently appreciated the closed doors of the Slytherin dungeons, offering him the privacy to reflect on the recent events and strategize his next moves. The scene extended, delving into the urgency of the situation and providing a glimpse into the complexities of Harry's dual existence within both the world of shadows and the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.
"Master! I smelled the boy as the shadows took me! I should have warned you! It's entirely my fault!" Coilis cried out, lunging at Voldemort in Gaboon Viper form. Harry yelped, caught off guard, and swiftly pressed himself against the bed, attempting to comfort the distressed snake.
"Hush, Coilis. I may not have emerged victorious, but I've gained valuable insights into Daemon Potter's offensive skills," Voldemort reassured his faithful companion, despite the pang of frustration at the missed opportunity.
"And the world believes you are dead, Master," Coilis added somberly.
"What!" Voldemort exclaimed, his eyes narrowing with intrigue.
"Yes... It will be a rather uneventful summer at the manor," Coilis remarked with a sense of resignation.
"Indeed, it will. Tell me, what time is it?" Voldemort inquired, a sudden realization dawning upon him.
"Just before dawn, Master. Rest now, for you still have hours until packing, and then the final feast," Coilis advised, sensing the weariness in his master.
Harry nodded, acknowledging the wisdom of Coilis's words. He closed his eyes, allowing the exhaustion to wash over him as he drifted into a much-needed sleep. The scene extended, capturing the aftermath of the confrontation and offering a glimpse into the impending challenges that awaited Voldemort and his devoted serpent companion.
"Obsidian! Wake up!" Theo's urgent knocks reverberated through the door, prompting Harry to growl in response. Despite his reluctance, he blinked awake, immediately assessing his appearance in the mirror. His father had cast spells to conceal the scar on his face, mirroring the one on his wrist. The silvered shoulder, however, remained visible, but a well-placed robe could easily mask it.
"Oh yes, that boy keeps wanting you, master," Coilis remarked from his rock perch. Harry rolled his eyes, grabbed a shirt, and then a robe before opening the door with a raised eyebrow.
"It's noon on the last day. All the first years are supposed to play truth or dare, apparently a Slytherin tradition," Theo explained, stepping back to let Harry pass, Coilis slithering alongside him, still appearing as Morsus.
The main area in front of the fireplace was teeming with first years. Older students observed with mischievous smiles and peculiar glints in their eyes.
"What's the point of such a task?" Harry inquired of Theo, who shrugged with a slight grin.
"They hold it at the end of the year so that if something bad gets out, you can't get in trouble," Theo explained. Harry sighed, taking a seat in an armchair that two girls hastily vacated as he approached, the air shifting with a mix of awe and trepidation at his presence. The scene expanded, immersing the reader in the Slytherin traditions and the dynamics of the magical community within Hogwarts.
"Okay, listen up, first years!" A confident fifth-year student bellowed, taking charge of the Slytherin gathering. The Seventh years were absent, reveling in a party in Hogsmeade, and the Prefects were on duty. A handful of sixth years lingered around, though their interest seemed to wane with each passing year, leaving the fifth years to oversee the annual tradition.
"The rules are simple: Truth or Dare. If you choose Dare, you have to follow through. Keep the dares within the Slytherin dorms; if you get in trouble, we all get in trouble," the leader explained, casting a stern gaze at Draco, who visibly deflated under the scrutiny.
"For Truth, we have a small Truth potion here—good for only one truth per sip. It will wear off right after you're done speaking. Alright, let's play!" The fifth-year leader announced, randomly selecting a girl who squeaked in surprise.
"Okay, you there, you'll start," he pointed, taking a seat alongside the other students who chuckled at the girl's astonished expression.
"Pansy? Truth or Dare?" The girl mumbled out. Pansy, with an air of nonchalance, shrugged and snorted noisily.
"Truth!" she declared, promptly downing the tiny shot glass. The other girl bit her lip, contemplating her question.
"Um, what are you afraid of?" she asked. Pansy tilted her head, deep in thought, and the truth potion activated instantaneously.
"I can't stand spiders of any type," Pansy admitted, her eyes widening in realization as she stared at the potion in awe.
"Er…Sephiri! Truth or Dare!" Pansy called out, redirecting the spotlight to a grey-eyed, seemingly bored girl. Sephiri shrugged, letting out a sigh.
"Dare." The anticipation in the room heightened as the game unfolded, revealing the unique personalities and vulnerabilities of the Slytherin first years.
"I dare you to…pet Obsidian's snake!" Pansy cackled, reveling in the mischievous glint in her eyes. The girl named Sephiri instantly stiffened, casting a fearful glance at Coilis.
"How I was brought into this, I shall never know, master," Coilis remarked, his serpent eyes observing the unfolding scene.
With cautious reluctance, the girl reached out and quickly petted Coilis. A shiver ran down her spine, and she promptly took her seat, eyeing the snake warily. Harry, leaning back in his chair, closed his eyes, the bizarre spectacle of humans entertaining Coilis, who observed with a hint of curiosity.
"Obsidian! Truth or Dare!" Blaise Zabini challenged, his determination evident as he locked eyes with Harry. The remnants of their rivalry lingered, and now Zabini seemed intent on testing Harry's limits, perhaps hoping to undermine his newfound respect among their peers.
Harry opened his eyes, meeting Zabini's gaze with a silent challenge. The room fell into a hushed anticipation, with Theo and Draco watching closely, waiting to see if anything about Harry would slip through the facade.
"I choose Truth, Zabini," Harry declared easily, a subtle challenge gleaming in his eyes. Zabini growled, mentally sifting through questions, each more probing than the last. The room hung in silence, the air thick with tension as everyone awaited the outcome of this truth-seeking dare.
"Master…be careful. I wish for us not to go into hiding," Coilis hissed, voicing his concern. Harry, in response, silenced the serpent with a few comforting scratches, conveying reassurance.
Finally, Blaise, with a confident smirk, formulated a question that seemed to carry a devious undertone. Harry, wary but willing to play along, drank some of the potion. To his relief, the effects were milder than the more invasive Veritaserum.
"Here's your question, Obsidian: what is it that you keep from all of us?" Blaise inquired, leaning back with a triumphant grin.
Harry stiffened, pausing in his gentle strokes of Coilis as he contemplated the answer. The Truth serum, however, seemed perplexed, unable to pinpoint a single idea amidst the multitude of secrets he harbored.
"Master? I know that the serum will be jumbled. I suggest prying further into the topic," Coilis advised, offering a hint of guidance.
Harry blinked slowly at the smirking Blaise and yawned. "The serum is confused, Zabini. Narrow your question," he directed.
Blaise, taken aback, blinked in surprise, and a murmur spread among the older students. Undeterred, he adjusted his approach. "What is your secret?" Blaise demanded, attempting to simplify his query.
Harry, however, was prepared for this. "Narrow your subject, Zabini."
"What is a secret?" Blaise challenged, his inquiry turning into a game of verbal chess, each move calculated and strategic. The air in the room crackled with anticipation as the game continued, unraveling the layers of mystery surrounding Obsidian's hidden truths.
"That's not a question, but if you want a definition, I shall gladly give it to you," Harry calmly retorted, maintaining his composure even as Blaise seethed with anger, his face turning red, and his body trembling with frustration.
Daphne, sensing the escalating tension, tactfully interjected. "Can I ask Harry a question instead?" she inquired, drawing the attention away from the fuming fifth year. Harry, slightly surprised, met her gaze, and the fifth year reluctantly nodded, abandoning his attempt to corner Harry with a loaded question.
Daphne bit her lip, carefully formulating her question. "As a child, what was your specialty in Magic Manipulation, also known as Accidental Magic?" she asked, stunning both Theo and Draco. The room buzzed with interest as a few older students, who had wondered about this themselves, leaned in.
"I don't see how this could backfire in your face, master," Coilis commented, offering his input as Harry considered the question. The answer, a simple truth that had served as a defense mechanism during his childhood, echoed loudly in Harry's mind.
"My specialty as a child was inflicting pain or harm," Harry calmly responded. The effects of the potion vanished, leaving the room in silence. Then, the atmosphere shifted as questions and confessions flowed freely. Draco admitted to once attempting to break into Harry's room, and the revelations continued to circulate.
Harry closed his eyes, allowing the room's buzz to wash over him. As the game unfolded, the secrets revealed offered glimpses into the vulnerabilities and hidden facets of Slytherin's first years.
"Obsidian, Truth or Dare?" Millicent asked, her eyes fixed on Harry, who glanced up with a green-eyed expression of annoyance before calmly stating his choice.
"Truth." Once again, Harry opted for the less risky option, unwilling to expose himself to the unpredictable nature of a dare.
"Name the top three worst things you've ever done with accidental magic," Millicent declared, her question carrying an air of challenge. Harry stilled, contemplating the revelation of these childhood incidents.
"I…I don't see a loophole, Master. Just go with it. If it was accidental, it couldn't be too bad," Coilis advised, sensing Harry's hesitation.
Taking a deep breath, Harry lifted his eyes. Millicent twitched as she caught a haunting look in his gaze, followed by the subtle hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
"When I was five, I caused a rabbit to convulse and burst into fire, dying quickly," Harry disclosed, his words sending a collective shiver through the group. A few girls whimpered in response.
Little did they know, this was only his third worst, and the revelations were about to become even more unsettling.
"When I was four, I caused a boy to jump out a window, breaking his spine and his right arm," Harry continued, revealing a darker layer to his accidental magical episodes. Some members of the group looked visibly sick, yet Harry pressed on.
Millicent, seemingly shocked, raised her arm, signaling for Harry to stop. "But that's worse than the rabbit!" she exclaimed.
Harry looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "I'm saving the best for last." The room hung in tense anticipation, the weight of Harry's revelations leaving an indelible mark on the atmosphere.
By now, a little girl had run away, the sound of gagging echoing in the room. A fifth-year student jumped into action, swiftly cleaning up the mess with a nifty charm.
"What's the worst?" Daphne stuttered, visibly shaken. Coilis knew the story well; Harry had confided in him about it long ago.
"It is the hatchling, isn't it? This 'Michel' from long ago?" Coilis interjected, a touch of somber understanding in his serpent tone.
"When I was seven—"
"What did he do? Make them ill?" A girl whispered to her friend, her curiosity tinged with a hint of amusement. Harry responded with a cold smile, causing her to stiffen in fear.
"—A boy named Michel killed a snake I had found—"
"Oh, Merlin," Theo whispered, the realization dawning on everyone about the significance of the snake named Coilis in Harry's life.
"What did you do? Choke him?" A third-year student called out, attempting to lighten the atmosphere with a hint of amusement, yet disturbed by the unsettling control Harry displayed.
"—In return, Michel died the next day." Harry's revelation hung in the air, rendering the room dead silent. Within seconds, three girls ran away, screaming for a bucket. Theo's face remained impassive as he stood, glancing at a clock and blinking slowly.
"Well, I think it's time we make towards the feast," Theo declared, spinning around and walking out, a mannerism reminiscent of Malfoy. Harry's piercing green eyes watched in interest as Theo followed suit, leaving the common room behind. The others didn't need to gawk at him; instead, they chose to hide their fear for a few more hours, awaiting the next year with a mix of dread and fascination.
The dining hall was adorned with large green and silver Slytherin banners, featuring venomous vipers that glared down at the students, silently coiled within the pictures.
"I wonder what charms they used," Daphne whispered to Draco, who nonchalantly shrugged. Harry refrained from responding, fully aware of the specific spells used to enchant the banners.
As students took their seats, Harry winced slightly as the movement caused the flesh on his shoulder to twist. It hadn't fully set in yet, a lingering reminder of the recent events.
The hall hushed as all eyes turned toward the teacher's table, anticipating Dumbledore's end-of-year speech.
"Well, another wonderful year at Hogwarts has come and gone," Dumbledore began, his smile seemingly endless and his eyes twinkling with warmth. Coilis hissed threats and anger under his breath, unnoticed amidst the collective attention.
"Now, Ravenclaw has won the Quidditch Cup," Dumbledore continued, pausing to let the Ravenclaw table erupt in cheers of victory. Gryffindor scowled, the defeat stinging, and their seekers' alleged misconduct denied vehemently.
"Now, the House Cup has been won by Slytherin—"
The Slytherin table erupted in cheers and applause, the green and silver colors dominating the hall. Harry felt a subtle satisfaction, even if he couldn't fully partake in the celebration due to the recent injuries. The scene unfolded, capturing the mix of emotions and rivalries that characterized the closing moments of another school year at Hogwarts.
Winning the House or Quidditch Cup served as a rare excuse for Slytherins to finally display some emotion. While the majority of the Slytherin house erupted into cheers, standing on their feet and letting off enthusiastic whistles, Harry remained seated, quietly clapping. The subdued applause was a stark contrast to the exuberance of his housemates.
"I thought that this was the calm house?" Coilis remarked, his serpentine eyes glancing at the animated Slytherins.
"At times, Coilis, they grow as wild as a normal human," Harry responded with a quiet hiss, his clapping masking the subtle hisses exchanged between them.
Dumbledore, noticing the celebratory fervor, intervened. "However, there are a few last-minute points to be awarded," he announced. Immediately, Harry pressed his fingers to his temple, attempting to block out the sudden onslaught of mad hisses and voices that filled the hall. Other Slytherins joined in, hissing and snarling in anger. The only visual sign of Harry's distress was his tightly closed eyes and the slight pressure of his fingers against his temple. Theo, glancing over curiously, tilted his head, sensing an unusual tension in the air.
If Theo shared Harry's mindset at that moment, he too would have a headache.
"How dare he!" "Our house is much better!" "The favorite fool!" "It is against the founders' wish to show favorites, Albus!" The banners' animated snakes hissed in anger, echoing the sentiments of the Slytherin students who realized that their house wouldn't secure the coveted House Cup. The scene unfolded, capturing the complex dynamics within the Slytherin house and the clash of emotions in response to Dumbledore's decision.
"Fifty points to Hermione Granger, for excellent logic skills," Dumbledore announced, a warm smile directed at her shocked face.
"Master, he shall award points to all who helped retrieve the stone," Coilis suggested, sensing the brewing tension in the room. Harry slid his hand down his familiar's neck, pacifying the angered hisses that threatened to emerge.
"Fifty points to Ron Weasley, for one of the best Chess games Hogwarts has ever seen," Dumbledore continued, acknowledging Ron's strategic prowess. Coilis, still indignant, couldn't resist expressing his contempt. "I could have beaten that fool in his sleep!" he shrieked, prompting a low chuckle from Harry, who couldn't help but agree.
"Sixty points to Daemon Potter, for helping serve our school," Dumbledore concluded, nodding in recognition. The announcement sent a wave of whispers throughout the entire school, each student grappling with the realization that Harry had played a crucial role in securing the Sorcerer's Stone.
"We're tied with Gryffindor," Draco murmured to Theo, who gasped in astonishment. Both of them looked at Harry, whose narrowed eyes conveyed that he, too, had heard and acknowledged the newfound rivalry. The revelation set the stage for the final moments of the House Cup ceremony, brimming with anticipation and uncertainty.
"And finally, ten points to Neville Longbottom, for standing up for a friend," Dumbledore announced, a decision that left Draco and the rest of the Slytherins in disbelief. Harry's lip curled slightly, revealing his disdain for the unfolding situation.
"You have got to be kidding me," Draco deadpanned, mirroring the sentiments of his fellow Slytherins. The Gryffindor house erupted in cheers as they clinched the victory, and the green and silver banners were swiftly transformed into scarlet and gold, lions now proudly trotting around the banners.
Harry narrowed his eyes at the head table, where most of the students were discreetly assessing his reaction to the unexpected change.
"It seems," Harry stated, turning away to address his fellow Slytherins, particularly the first years surrounding him, "that Dumbledore is holding favorites. Doesn't he know that Slytherins never let things go?"
A few shared smirks circulated among the Slytherins, their dark expressions hinting at the brewing plots and pranks they were already scheming for the upcoming year. Even Draco, despite his initial shock, joined in the murmurs of discontent, setting the stage for the Slytherin retaliation that would undoubtedly unfold in the following school year. The atmosphere in the Great Hall crackled with the tension of rivalries and unspoken challenges, promising an eventful and intriguing continuation of the students' Hogwarts journey.
Students left the Great Hall, rising from their seats and rushing toward the Hogwarts Express. In the flurry of activity, students from different houses sought out their friends, eager to find familiar faces for the journey back home.
Harry and his companions walked with a dignified air, smoothly boarding the train and receiving their luggage from attentive house-elves. Harry led them to a compartment, almost at the very back of the train.
The compartment doors slid open, and Theo entered, taking a seat just across from Harry. Daphne followed suit, petting a random grey and white cat that had apparently decided to join them.
As the train started to move, Harry picked up Coilis, gently stroking his fine scales. In Harry's imagination, Draco was likely off with Crabbe and Goyle, his two roommates, while Theo shared his room with a boy named Fredrik, just next door. The journey back home promised moments of reflection and shared camaraderie, a fitting end to another eventful year at Hogwarts.
"Where do you reckon you're headed?" inquired Daphne, her curiosity feigned, not wanting to appear too intrusive. Harry, to his surprise, acknowledged her finesse; he wasn't particularly adept at subtlety himself, favoring the more intimidating approach, a trait he embodied as 'Obsidian.'
"Romania, my parents await my arrival there," Harry disclosed, his tone devoid of enthusiasm. Theo chewed on his lip, averting his gaze. It wasn't lost on Harry that invitations wouldn't be extended his way, precisely the outcome he sought in his clandestine role as 'Obsidian.'
"Ah, Romania, the land of dragon reserves, isn't it?" Daphne attempted to engage in small talk, but Harry couldn't help but be entertained by her rather feeble effort.
"Yes, indeed. The southern part is brimming with dragon reserves. I, however, reside in the Northwest, though I've had the pleasure of encountering a few dragons in my time," Harry nodded, casting his eyes out the window, signaling an openness to further discussion.
"Master, Daemon Potter and the Red Haired prey are approaching," Coilis hissed abruptly, causing Daphne to startle and Theo to shiver. Within moments, the door swung open, and Harry, engrossed in the view beyond the window, didn't bother to divert his gaze.
"Greetings, Potter, Weasley," Ron greeted, his tone laced with a touch of arrogance as he crossed his arms. Theo shot him an appreciative yet concealed glance.
"How did you know it was us, Obsidian?" Ron retorted, a hint of disdain in his voice. Harry finally turned his attention, his eyes appraising and tinged with danger.
"You're not particularly light on your feet," Harry observed, delivering the remark with lethal precision. Ron's face flushed a bright red, a mix of embarrassment and perhaps a hint of offense.
"What brings you here, Potter?" Daphne inquired coldly, tossing her blonde hair in a smug and unusually arrogant manner, a performance that seemed out of character for her.
"Enough, Greengrass. What I desire is simple – to finally receive respect from this coward," Daemon sneered at Harry, who reclined in his seat, his expression turning into a frown.
"Respect," Harry echoed, prompting a smug nod from Daemon. Coilis observed the interaction between the two boys before suddenly going limp, convulsions shaking his form while emitting a strange hissing sound.
"Is he all right?" Daphne asked cautiously, eyeing Coilis. Harry spared a brief glance before looking away.
"He's laughing. Finds amusement in this demand, as do I," Harry explained casually. Now it was Daemon's turn to blush, embarrassed by a snake.
"I bestow respect upon those who earn it in my eyes. Surprise me, Daemon Potter. Impress me, and maybe, just maybe, I'll consider showing you respect." Daemon found himself at a loss for words, the compartment door sliding shut practically on his nose, prompting a yelp as he jumped back.
Theo observed the scene with amusement, while Daphne jumped at the sudden, loud 'bang!' as the door locked securely.
Harry delicately picked up a book, immersing himself in its pages, paying little heed to the bustling activity around him, with the only exception being the recovering Coilis on the seat beside him.
As the train decelerated, aligning itself with the Muggle station of Kings Cross Station, laughter echoed through the air. Farewells were exchanged, accompanied by embraces and invitations for summer meet-ups. Baggage was swiftly claimed, and children scampered off to reunite with eagerly waiting parents.
"So, this is goodbye," Theo stated, a touch of melancholy in his voice. Daphne nodded, her lip caught between her teeth. Harry blinked, offering a brief nod.
"Farewell. Until we meet again for the next school year," Theo added with a slight smirk, extending his hand for a handshake.
"I don't know how you manage it, Obsidian, but every word you utter is more formal than Draco could ever hope to be."
With that, Harry shook Theo's hand before gently lifting Daphne's hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it in a formal farewell. A quick blush painted her cheeks, and she looked up shyly, but by then, Harry was already navigating through the dispersing crowd.
Coilis coiled around Harry's arm, emitting hisses at a few magical families who lingered in their path. Some families furrowed their brows and quickly moved away, while others paled at the sight of Coilis.
"Master, how much longer must I endure until I shed this skin?" Coilis inquired.
"A little bit longer, Coilis. Just a little more," Harry reassured, his eyes fixed on the journey ahead.
Muttering to himself, Harry made his way to the Floo station. After dropping a few Sickles into the fire, he stepped into the emerald flames and disappeared, the world swirling around him with a loud buzzing as the wards granted him access.
Emerging effortlessly, Harry allowed the fireplace to settle into the familiar red flickering flames that adorned its base. He found himself in his own room, a place he sorely missed. Coilis sprang out, savoring the sensation of his true form—a sleek and swift black body.
"How I missed my true form!" Coilis exclaimed.
"Indeed, Coilis. Your true skin is always my favorite," Harry replied with a chuckle, watching as the house elves darted around, unpacking at an impressive speed. Feeling a slight tug on his leg, Harry looked down to find a tear-eyed elf sniffing and holding a carefully folded black cloak with grey trimming. Harry recognized it instantly.
"T-Tizzy tried to fix it, b-but it wouldn't be fix-xed! It-t kept-t hiss-ssing and b-burning," the tearful elf explained, fat tears streaming down its cheeks as it presented Shadow's cloak. The phoenix tears had permeated the fabric, rendering it unfixable by dark magic and conventional materials.
"Leave us," Harry commanded, swiftly taking the robe. He knew he'd have to seek out a skilled tailor in Knockturn Alley to mend it.
The elves scurried away at Harry's order, disappearing with rapid snaps and pops until the room fell silent, save for the faint hissing of Coilis, contentedly lounging by the fireplace.
"Master, the cloak?" Coilis inquired.
"Irreparable by my abilities. A tailor in Knockturn will have to mend it… go on."
"Pardon?" Coilis seemed puzzled.
"Go on, Coilis. I know you wish to visit Nagini," Harry urged, understanding the unspoken bond between his serpent companion and the formidable snake, Nagini.
Coilis looked down, a hint of embarrassment evident, before swiftly sliding away and slithering off. Nagini would undoubtedly be impressed; Coilis had grown an extra foot in length and half an inch in thickness. His crimson eyes and pearly white fangs, set against the midnight black scales, painted a picture of a striking and handsome snake.
Once only the tip of Coilis's tail vanished from sight, Harry turned his attention to his room, ascending the stairs and approaching a mirror. His skin remained the same momentarily, but with a blink, his eyes and flesh seemed to melt away, revealing the silver skin underneath, rendering his true face unrecognizable.
Slowly, Harry ran his fingers over the silvery surface, sighing as he felt its almost soft texture—reminiscent of silk. Many would covet skin like this, but not Harry. Closing his eyes, the vivid green orbs faded shut as he sighed, a tinge of sadness enveloping him for what he had become.
"All because of Daemon. Every bit of it, my abandonment, my altered magic—everything traces back to him. Watch out, Daemon, for one day, you will fall," Harry whispered to himself, his voice laced with a steely resolve and a promise that lingered in the air.
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