Chapter 273 Chapter "Gemini Magica is born"
Harry sat in the Room of Requirement at midnight. The soft glow of a single candle perched on the desk dimly lit the room. Harry sat hunched over a piece of parchment, scribbling furiously, the scratching sound of quill on paper the only noise in the quiet house. He had spent countless nights like this, trying to make sense of the chaos surrounding his life, searching for new ways to protect those he loved and stay one step ahead of the ever-looming darkness.
Tonight, however, felt different—an idea formed in his mind, a spark that had taken root during his recent dueling practices. While powerful, the traditional wand combat had always felt somewhat limiting to Harry—especially after countless battles where his instincts screamed for something more fluid and adaptable.
Harry thought I could change the way I duel entirely. It had started weeks ago when Harry had been practicing in the Room of Requirement's dueling room, pushing himself to improve after his recent battles. He remembered how trapped he had felt when facing multiple opponents or complex spells. His mind had raced faster than his body could keep up—his single wand, though capable, wasn't enough to cover all aspects of battle. Then, inspiration struck.
What if I could use two wands? The thought had been radical, almost foolish at first. Most duelists wielded a single wand in the wizarding world, focusing all their magic through one channel. But Harry had long abandoned conventional thinking—he had to survive. He needed something more that could tip the balance in his favor.
That's when he remembered reading about the legendary Japanese swordsman Miyamoto Musashi and his unique combat style, Niten Ichi-ryū—the art of using two swords simultaneously in perfect harmony, one for offense and one for Defense. The philosophy had fascinated Harry since he remembered the idea of balance, unity between two forces.
He picked up his quill, dipped it into ink, and began to write, outlining the style that had been swirling in his mind ever since.
1. Gemini Magica (Twin Magic): Wand dueling designed for versatility, fluidity, and adaptability. One wand for the powerful offense. One wand for Defense. Both wands work as extensions of the caster's will.
To wield two wands is to become two minds within one body. One must not think as a single wizard anymore but as two distinct entities working in perfect harmony. The essence of Gemini Magica is to embrace the duality of thought.
Harry paused, staring at the words. The first time he had tried to use two wands simultaneously, his mind had nearly buckled under the strain. The sheer effort of controlling two distinct streams of magic at once had been overwhelming and chaotic. But now, he understood. His mind had to evolve. It wasn't just about casting two spells and processing the world differently. He continued:
2. Dual Paths of Thought Equal Dual-Wielding Wands (Offense & Defense): The practitioner holds one wand in each hand. The dominant hand casts powerful offensive spells, while the off-hand focuses on Defense or precision magic—an unbreakable balance of attack and protection. Gemini Magica's core lies in splitting your mind into two distinct paths. Each hand—each wand—must function independently of the other, yet they must remain linked by a central purpose. One wand channels raw, relentless offensive power, while the other constantly weaves defensive barriers, counters, and precision spells.
To master this, a wizard's thoughts must diverge yet remain connected, like holding two intertwining conversations. Each is vital. Each requires complete attention. In this way, both offense and Defense can coexist simultaneously, creating a balance few duelists can anticipate
3. Fluidity in Casting: Gemini Magica emphasizes uninterrupted movement—an art where spells flow seamlessly from one to the next. The caster becomes unpredictable, moving from offense to Defense without pause, keeping opponents off-balance.
Harry leaned back in his chair, imagining the fluidity he sought. In the chaos of battle, time was everything. The more he could streamline his actions, the more unpredictable he would become. His opponents wouldn't know whether he was casting a curse or preparing to defend himself. It was a shift in strategy that could change the nature of duels entirely. He scribbled more ideas, his mind racing as he envisioned perfecting the style.
4. Harmony in Chaos: Each wand extends the mind's duality. In combat, one must never think of them as competing forces. The offensive wand moves instinctually and aggressively, seizing every opportunity to strike at the opponent's weaknesses. But the defensive wand must act precisely, anticipating threats before they manifest.
The trick is never to let the mind dwell on just one element. As the right wand unleashes a blasting curse, the left wand casts a shield charm. A single heartbeat must stretch into an eternity of thought, seeing the future of both actions—the damage the attack will inflict and the protection the Defense must offer. And in the same instant, the process must reverse. Attack and Defense must blur into one continuous flow, a seamless transition from control to chaos.
Harry smiled as he remembered his first attempts at this, how he had cast a Stupefy with his right hand while simultaneously conjuring a Shield Charm with his left. But this style was more than just casting spells—he needed to control the rhythm of the fight. Timing, adaptability, and positioning would be critical.
5. Adaptability and Timing: Like Musashi's sword style, Gemini Magica requires practitioners to read their opponent's movements and strike at the perfect moment. Feints, quick counters, and precision spells create an overwhelming advantage. I could throw them off, Harry thought. I cast a quick hex with my left, making them believe that's the attack while setting up something devastating with my right.
He continued writing feverishly, every quill stroke bringing the concept closer to reality. He imagined himself in battle, reading his opponent's every move, knowing instinctively when to strike. His wand would be an extension of his magic—neither would be.
6. Mental Separation: The Art of Thinking Like Two It's not enough to alternate between attack and Defense. The mind must genuinely separate, as though two wizards inhabit the same body. One side of the mind must focus on precision—every offensive spell must be a calculated strike, every curse aimed with lethal intent. Meanwhile, the other side must stand as a fortress of clarity, defending against incoming attacks with shields, wards, and counters, always moving, constantly reacting.
The challenge lies in mastering this duality without hesitation. The mind must think quickly, almost instinctively, reacting to danger before it arrives while constantly pressing forward. Hesitation will lead to failure. Each wand must be trusted as an extension of its half of the mind, just as each part of the mind must trust the other to fulfill its role.
7. Spells as Extensions of the Practitioner: The wands are not separate from the caster but an extension of their will. Mastery requires perfect harmony between both wands—offense and Defense as one.
A faint flicker of excitement rose within him as he wrote the next part. This was where his real strategy would come into play, where he could control the duel's pace, force his opponent into mistakes, and capitalize on them.
8. The Silent Harmony: The key to Gemini Magica is harmony, not speed or sheer power. The mind must become a silent conductor, orchestrating two forces that understand offense and Defense are not separate but intertwined.
In battle, the wizard must flow between attack and Defense without thought, without pause. One wand strikes while the other protects, both working in perfect concert. This requires raw skill and mental clarity—a wizard must divide their focus without weakening either side. When mastered, Gemini Magica becomes more than a combat technique. It becomes an extension of the self, a reflection of the duality in every wizard—the need to destroy and the need to protect.
9. Mental Strategy: The practitioner doesn't merely react but seeks to control the duel's rhythm. Manipulating the opponent's expectations is critical, using non-verbal spells or distractions to force them into a vulnerable position.
Harry could see it now—the battlefield, his wands blazing, magic flying from his fingertips like a natural extension of himself. His style wasn't about overwhelming power but precision, control, and mastery over chaos.
Chapter 274 "The Room of Requirement and the Realization"
Harry stood in the center of the Room of Requirement, his breath steady but his mind awash with frustration. The familiar chamber had shifted again, transforming into a vast, open dueling arena. Torchlight flickered along the stone walls, casting long shadows across the floor. The room was quiet except for the faint magic hum in the air. It was the perfect place to train, to focus. But today, that focus felt elusive.
In his right hand, the Aetherium Eclipsa thrummed with energy, alive and powerful. With its mithril hilt and silver adamantium body, the wand radiated a sharp, vibrant magic. It felt almost too perfect—an extension of his will, reacting faster than he could even think. However, his old, faithful companion rested in his left hand: his holly wand with its phoenix feather core. The wand that had chosen him at eleven had stood by him through every battle and felt familiar and solid. But now, something felt off. The two wands felt at odds with each other, as though they didn't belong in the same fight.
For days, Harry had tried to master his new technique, Gemini Magica, the dual-wielding combat style he had been working to perfect. He believed that using the Aetherium Eclipsa in his right hand and his holly wand in his left would give him the needed balance. But despite his best efforts, something wasn't clicking.
He raised both wands, willing his mind to fall into the split rhythm he had been practicing. Offense with the right, Defense with the left, he reminded himself, splitting his focus as he had trained.
With a sharp flick of his right hand, the Aetherium Eclipsa unleashed a searing Reducto. The jet of blue light shot across the room with devastating precision, striking a practice dummy and reducing it to splinters. At the same time, Harry tried to conjure a Protego shield with his left hand—but the holly wand faltered. The shield flickered, weak and slow, unable to hold against the rapid pace of the attack.
The spells collided awkwardly in midair, and Harry staggered back as the force of the misaligned magic caused his shield to shatter, sending a blast of magical energy back toward him. He dropped both wands to his sides, frustrated. His mind had been clear, his instincts sharp, but the wands—his tools—weren't working in harmony.
"Again," Harry muttered, trying to suppress his growing frustration.
He raised both wands once more, this time trying a different sequence. His right hand—the Aetherium Eclipsa—moved first, casting Stupefy with perfect precision—the scarlet jet of light cut through the air with frightening speed. But the magic faltered again as he tried to follow up with his left hand, using the holly wand to conjure another shield. The holly wand responded sluggishly, its magic not syncing with the Aetherium Eclipsa. The result was the same—an unbalanced, disjointed defense that exposed him.
Harry cursed under his breath and lowered both wands. His arms ached, not from the physical effort but from the mental strain of trying to force the two wands to work together. The Aetherium Eclipsa was flawless—every spell he cast with it felt sharp and controlled like it knew what he wanted before moving. But the holly wand... it dragged. It resisted the pace of Gemini Magica, its magic slow compared to the lightning-fast precision of the Aetherium Eclipsa.
The room felt heavy with silence as Harry walked to the edge of the dueling arena, staring down at the wands in his hands. The truth started forming in his mind, but he didn't want to accept it.
The Aetherium Eclipsa had been designed for this. It responded to his power like no other wand, forged from rare, mythical materials. Its Crystalis Obscura core amplified his magic, giving him a level of control and precision he had never experienced before. In his right hand, it felt like an extension of his very soul. But the holly wand… for all its history and all the battles they had fought together, felt… out of place.
"Why isn't this working?" Harry muttered. He clenched both wands tightly and stared at them. "It should be working."
But deep down, he knew why it wasn't. He had felt it every time he tried to cast. The magic of the Aetherium Eclipsa was fast, powerful, and fluid. It responded instantly, demanding nothing less than perfection. For all its loyalty, the holly wand couldn't match that speed, that power. Its magic was strong but slower, more deliberate—unsuited to the breakneck pace of Gemini Magica.
Harry raised both wands once more, hoping this time would be different.
With a snap of his right hand, the Aetherium Eclipsa unleashed a rapid Expelliarmus, the spell crackling through the air. As he tried to follow up with Protego using his left hand, the holly wand felt sluggish, as if it was resisting his will. The shield appeared but was late and unfocused, leaving him vulnerable again.
His frustration reached a breaking point, and Harry shouted angrily, lowering the wands with a heavy thud. The holly wand couldn't keep up with the demands of Gemini Magica. The two wands weren't in harmony. He had been so focused on making it work that he hadn't allowed himself to see the truth.
"It's not going to work," he said softly, staring at the holly wand in his left hand.
The realization was a bitter one. The Holly wand had been repaired after his fight with Malfoy in Hogwarts, but something was wrong. It had chosen him and fought by his side through countless battles. It had helped in his first two years at Hogwarts. But now, as he stood there, trying to forge a new path, he understood that the holly wand wasn't suited for his Arcane magic.
The Aetherium Eclipsa was different. It demanded precision, speed, and control on a level that the Holly wand couldn't match. Its magic surged through him like a storm, powerful and sharp, ready for whatever spell he commanded. But the holly wand… it was like an old friend who couldn't keep up with the pace of the battle anymore.
Harry closed his eyes, feeling a deep sadness wash over him. The holly wand had been more than a tool—it had been a part of him for so long. But now, it was clear it couldn't take him where he needed to go. Gemini Magica demanded balance and synergy between his wands, and the holly wand could no longer provide that.
Slowly, Harry lowered the holly wand, his fingers trembling slightly as he placed it into his pocket. The decision wasn't easy. It felt like a betrayal, letting go of something that had been with him through every trial, every victory. But he knew, deep down, that it was necessary.
The Aetherium Eclipsa pulsed faintly in his right hand as if sensing his will. Its magic hummed with potential, urging him forward. But now, Harry realized he needed a second wand that could match the Aetherium Eclipsa's power and precision. A wand that would allow him to master Gemini Magica fully.
The Room of Requirement shifted slightly, the walls rippling as if acknowledging his decision. Harry looked around. The chamber was quiet but filled with the promise of something new. He knew what he had to do next.
With a deep breath, Harry straightened, feeling a strange mix of sorrow and determination. He would find a wand that could balance the Aetherium Eclipsa. It wouldn't be easy, but it was the only way to master his chosen path.
As the Room of Requirement morphed, revealing a door at the chamber's far end, Harry took a step forward, leaving behind the past and embracing the uncertain road ahead.
Chapter 275 "A New Wand"
Harry smiled, realizing he no longer needed to rely on the Floo Network or the Apparition spell. All he had to do was will himself to be somewhere, like the alley near Gringotts, and he would appear there. The memory of how he had discovered this new method of transport brought a satisfied grin to his face—it was a power that felt entirely natural, almost effortless, yet undeniably profound.
Harry stood on the seventh floor of Hogwarts, just outside the familiar tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, pacing back and forth as thoughts raced through his mind. The day had been long, filled with too many responsibilities and memories. He felt trapped within the ancient stone walls, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He needed space—to escape the castle's constant noise and clear his mind.
The Black Lake. The thought struck him suddenly. He hadn't been down there in weeks, and now, more than anything, he wanted to feel the cool breeze coming off the water and hear the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing the peaceful scene in his mind—the vast expanse of water, the distant silhouette of the Forbidden Forest, the quiet calm that permanently settled over him by the lake.
Without thinking, without even reaching for his wand, Harry felt a strange pull. It wasn't like the tight, uncomfortable squeeze of Apparition—it was something smoother, more natural, as though the world was shifting around him. The cool wind he'd imagined brushed against his face the next moment, and he opened his eyes.
He was standing on the shores of the Black Lake. Harry blinked in surprise, looking around. The castle loomed far behind him, its lights glowing faintly in the distance. He felt the soft earth beneath his feet and the fresh scent of the lake in the air, exactly as he had imagined.
He hadn't Apparated. He hadn't used a spell. He had wanted to be here, and his magic had answered. His heart pounded as the realization sank in. He hadn't raised his wand or spoken an incantation—he'd merely thought of being by the Black Lake, and his magic had taken him there as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The smoothness of it was startling, and there had been no disorienting sensation like Apparating, just a quiet shift, a gentle response from his magic as though it had simply… obeyed his will.
He stared out across the lake, the moonlight shimmering on its dark surface, reflecting off the ripples caused by the gentle wind. Could this be something new? Something deeper within him that had been unlocked after the battles? He had always known his magic was powerful, but this… this was something entirely different.
Harry took a deep breath, calming his racing thoughts. He closed his eyes again, focusing on the seventh floor of Hogwarts, where he had just been standing. He imagined the familiar stone corridor, the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and the echo of footsteps as students passed by. He wanted to be back there, just as he had wanted to be here by the lake.
Before he even had time to doubt himself, the sensation returned—the world around him shifted, not violently but smoothly, as though time and space were bending to his will. When he opened his eyes, the stone walls of the seventh floor greeted him, the same place he had been standing only moments ago.
His breath caught in his throat. He had done it again—willed himself from one place to another, with nothing but his thoughts guiding him—no wand, no spell—just the pure force of his magic responding to his desires.
Harry stared at the tapestry, his mind reeling. This ability was unlike anything he had ever learned or read about. It wasn't an Apparition or spell taught at Hogwarts. It was raw, intuitive magic, responding directly to his thoughts and will.
He let out a slow breath, his mind buzzing with the possibilities. His magic wasn't just a tool anymore—it had become a true extension of himself, bending to his will in ways he had never imagined. If he could master this, there would be no limit to what he could accomplish.
He allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of his lips for now. He had always known he was capable of more than the traditional boundaries of magic. This discovery was just the beginning of something extraordinary.
Harry began walking back down the corridor, knowing that his connection to magic had deepened in a way he never thought possible. And with that, the world felt a little smaller, a little more within reach. All he had to do was think, and his magic would carry him wherever he wanted to be.
Harry closed his eyes for a brief moment, focusing on the alley near Gringotts. There was no need for spells, no incantation or dramatic gesture. He willed himself to be there, letting his magic flow through him. In the next heartbeat, the familiar sensation of the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley appeared beneath his feet.
There was no sound of approach or flash of light—he was there as if he had always been. Harry smiled to himself, the ease and subtlety of his magic still astonishing him. Without missing a beat, he turned and began walking toward the towering white building of Gringotts, his confidence growing with every step.
As Harry approached Gringotts's imposing marble entrance, the two goblin guards stationed at the grand doors eyed him with sharp, calculating glances. Their expressions, usually indifferent or stern toward most visitors, softened into something resembling respect when they recognized who was approaching. Both goblins gave a subtle but respectful nod, their hands gripping their ornate spears as they acknowledged Harry's presence.
Harry returned the gesture with a brief nod, understanding the weight of his name in the wizarding world—and even among the goblins. Their respect was not given lightly. He walked through the tall, intricately carved bank doors, the cold air inside greeting him as the echo of his footsteps filled the grand Hall. The marble floor gleamed beneath his feet, reflecting the dim light of the chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling above. The familiar, bustling sounds of goblins counting coins and parchment shuffling filled the air as he made his way deeper into the heart of the bank.
As Harry stepped further into the grand Hall of Gringotts, the rhythmic clinking of coins and shuffling of parchments was interrupted by a gravelly voice calling out his name in the sharp tones of Gobbledegook.
"Thrain Spellblade!"
He turned toward the source of the voice and spotted the familiar, toothy grin of Sergeant Daruk Darkstone, a formidable member of the Goblin Elite Guard. Darkstone stood by the side of the Hall. His arms crossed over his broad chest, sharp eyes gleaming with amusement and respect.
"Look at who it is," Darkstone continued, his grin widening as he took a few steps forward, the heavy clang of his armor echoing in the Hall. "The prodigal son returns to where he learned to be a warrior."
Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight of Sergeant Daruk, though the memories of their earlier encounters were far from pleasant. Daruk had been one of the three goblins handpicked by King Ragnok himself to train Harry, an unprecedented decision that had caused a stir within the goblin ranks. None of the sergeants had been thrilled at the prospect of training a human wizard, let alone one with the weight of the Potter name.
Those early days, they had been brutal. Discipline, as the goblins understood it, was not something taught gently. They had beaten it into him, forcing him to learn to fight with the same ferocity and precision as their elite warriors. Sergeant Daruk Darkstone, in particular, had held a deep-rooted disdain for training a human. His sharp tongue and harsh methods had made Harry's lessons some of the most grueling he had ever endured, and there had been no sympathy, no leniency because Harry was an outsider.
But Harry had never complained. Harry had only worked harder, no matter how hard they pushed him or how often he found himself on the receiving end of Darkstone's scorn. He had outlasted the grueling physical demands, out-fought the goblins who trained alongside him, and earned their respect the hard way—by refusing to back down, absorbing every lesson, and proving his worth with every fight.
In time, even Darkstone's hatred had been tempered by respect. Harry's discipline and refusal to give up earned him the name Thrain Spellblade among the goblins—an acknowledgment of his growing prowess as both a warrior and a wizard.
As Harry stood before him, he could see the glimmer of that hard-earned respect in Darkstone's sharp eyes.
"I see you're still breathing, Thrain," Darkstone said with a smirk, though his tone lacked the hostility it once held. "You outlasted us all back then, didn't you?"
Harry shrugged, his smile widening. "You gave me no choice but to learn fast."
"Sergeant Darkstone," Harry said with a nod, "I thought you'd have moved up by now, but I see you're still keeping things in order down here."
Daruk barked a laugh, his sharp teeth glinting in the light. "I go where I'm needed, Thrain. And it seems I'm needed to greet old friends these days. Good to see you've not lost your edge."
Harry chuckled. "It's good to be back."
The goblin's eyes gleamed with a knowing look. "If you're here, it must be something important. Something worth digging through the old Potter vaults, eh?"
Harry nodded, knowing that little slipped past Darkstone's keen perception. "Something like that," he said, anticipating what he might find already pulling him deeper into the bank.
Sergeant Daruk Darkstone's grin widened, his sharp teeth gleaming as he gestured toward the private paths reserved for the most prestigious clients of Gringotts. "I anticipated what you were after, Thrain. You passed by the counters without a glance. Only the carts are this way, and with your title, there's no need to wait in line." He gave a respectful nod, his voice taking on a slightly softer tone. "It's good to see you back, Tribune."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I think that title faded after the Battle of Heroes Hill."
Daruk raised a brow, his grin still in place. "I wouldn't be so sure. Titles like that don't disappear so easily, especially not after a battle like that."
Harry's expression shifted, a more genuine smile playing on his lips. "Then why didn't you tell me you and the others were there with me? I had no idea you three were on the hill."
Darkstone shrugged, his smirk softening as he spoke. "You were busy, Thrain—no time for talking, not in the middle of that chaos. But we watched over you. You may have been a Trubine in the title, but we were close by, ready to step in if you needed someone to guard your back. Always close, always watching."
Harry couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. He clapped a hand on Daruk's back, the connection carrying the weight of their shared battles and respect. "You goblins never change. After I'm done here, how about we grab a drink at the Gilded Goblet?"
Daruk's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Done. I'll see you there, Tribune."
With a final nod, Harry headed toward the carts, a renewed sense of camaraderie washing over him. He couldn't deny the bond forged in battle, even with someone like Daruk. The Goblin Elite may have started as his harshest critics, but now they were among the few who knew him as Harry Potter and Thrain Spellblade.
Chapter 276 "The Search for the Second Wand"
Harry stood deep within the bowels of Gringotts, the musty air thick with the scent of old treasures and forgotten relics. His family's vault stretched out before him, a cavernous space filled with gleaming gold, ancient tomes, and artifacts of immense power. The Potter vault had always been a mystery to Harry—there were things here that had belonged to generations of Potters, items he hadn't yet explored or understood. But today, his mission was singular.
He needed a second wand—a match for the Aetherium Eclipsa.
His primary wand, the Aetherium Eclipsa, had become an extension of himself. Its power, balance, and how it responded to his magic made it the perfect weapon. But for his new combat style, Gemini Magica, Harry needed a second wand that could complement it—a wand that could handle the intricate balance of offense and Defense he envisioned. He had hoped the Potter vault might hold such a treasure.
Harry moved slowly through the rows of artifacts, his eyes scanning the piles of objects and weapons. He passed gilded goblets, enchanted mirrors, and shimmering suits of armor. His hand trailed across the edge of a silver sword, but his thoughts were elsewhere. This vault had always seemed endless, like a maze of history and power, but none of it had what he truly needed right now.
He stopped at a shelf where ornate boxes lined the walls. He opened each one carefully, revealing old wands—most beautiful in craftsmanship, but none resonated with his magic as the Aetherium Eclipsa did. Harry picked up a dark, slender wand made of polished ebony, but as soon as his fingers closed around it, he knew it wasn't the right fit. The magic felt distant, muted, as if the wand's valid owner had passed.
Harry examined each wand individually, feeling the weight and balance in his hand. Some were too light, others too heavy. The magic in them was either too subtle or too wild—none of them felt like the right partner for his primary wand. Frustration began to set in as he carefully replaced the last wand into its box.
"There has to be something here," Harry muttered, eyes sweeping across the vault again.
He continued deeper into the vault, his boots echoing on the stone floor as he ventured further into the shadows. At the far end of the vault, Harry came upon a large chest, its surface covered in dust and adorned with intricate engravings of runes and celestial symbols. He knelt and, with some effort, pushed open the heavy lid.
He found various rare materials: shimmering crystals, gleaming metals, and strange, glowing orbs. His eyes widened in recognition as he lifted a piece of Mithril from the chest—the same lightweight yet incredibly durable metal that formed part of the Aetherium Eclipsa's body. Next to it lay a chunk of Silver Adamantium, the scarce metal known for its magical conductivity and strength. Buried beneath these metals, nestled in a velvet pouch, was a shard of Crystalis Obscura, the mystical crystal that formed the core of his wand.
Harry held the materials in his hands, feeling their weight and the power they held. These were the exact components used to forge the Aetherium Eclipsa. It was as if his ancestors had left them here, waiting for the day they would be needed again. But there was no second wand, no match for his beloved weapon—only the raw materials, untouched and unformed.
A strange realization dawned on him. Perhaps the answer isn't in finding a second wand but creating one. Maybe this is why I couldn't find the right wand, Harry thought. It wasn't here because it hadn't been made yet. The prospect of forging a new wand that would match the power and elegance of the Aetherium Eclipsa excited him. It was a challenge, but Harry had always thrived in the face of challenges.
Chapter 277 "A Night at the Gilded Goblet"
The Gilded Goblet was a bustling place in the heart of Diagon Alley, though it was far more than just a pub. Hidden in the shadow of Gringotts, it served as a meeting place for those who knew their way around more than just the wizarding world. Goblins, witches, wizards, and creatures from far corners of the magical realm mingled here, and tonight, Harry found himself in familiar company.
As he walked into the Gilded Goblet, the warm, golden glow of the enchanted lanterns cast flickering shadows across the room. His eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on a group of goblins seated at a large table in the back. Sergeant Daruk Darkstone was there, his toothy grin splitting his face as he raised a tankard in greeting. Beside him were two other goblins Harry knew all too well—Thorak Stoneheart and Goruk Steelbane, both members of the Goblin Elite Guard who had fought with Harry at the Battle of Heroes Hill.
"Ah, Thrain Spellblade!" Daruk bellowed as Harry approached, his voice carrying over the hum of conversation. "The prodigal son arrives at last."
Thorak and Goruk stood as Harry reached the table, each giving him a warrior's nod before sitting back down. The room seemed to grow quieter around them as though the presence of these goblins and the humans among them commanded a certain respect.
Harry pulled up a chair and sat down, immediately greeted by a tankard of goblin ale that Daruk slid across the table. "To the captain!" Daruk declared, raising his drink high. "To the one who led us into the jaws of death and came out victorious."
Harry chuckled and raised his tankard. "To those who watched my back when I needed it most."
They clinked their tankards together, the heavy thud of metal meeting metal ringing out. Harry took a long drink, the strong, bitter taste of goblin ale hitting the back of his throat. It was a drink that took some getting used to, but after their shared battles, it tasted like home.
Thorak, the most serious of the group, set his tankard down and leaned forward, his dark eyes glinting in the low light. "Heroes Hill," he muttered. "It feels like a lifetime ago, but the memory of that battle still weighs heavy."
Goruk nodded in agreement, his voice gravelly. "The tide of undead… I've fought many battles, but none like that. It was endless, like fighting the ocean itself."
Harry's gaze grew distant for a moment as he remembered the battle. The hill had been surrounded, and the undead came in waves—endless and relentless. Zombies, skeletons, ghouls, and far worse things had clawed their way up the slopes, determined to crush the defenders in sheer numbers. Behind it all, orchestrating the chaos, was the dark necromancer, Zuhadoom.
"It wasn't just the numbers," Harry said, his voice quiet but firm. "It was the necromancer. Zuhadoom controlled them all. If we didn't take him down, how many of us fought or how hard we fought wouldn't have mattered. He would have kept raising the dead until we were overwhelmed."
Daruk grunted, setting his tankard down hard on the table. "You did more than just fight, Thrain. You shaped that battle. You were more than just a Tribune. You were the reason we survived."
Thorak nodded. "We fought under many commanders, but few like you. When the lines broke, you didn't hesitate. You led from the front."
Harry took a deep breath, the weight of their words settling on him. "I had to. There was no other choice."
Goruk leaned back in his chair, his silver eyes narrowing in thought. "You could have fallen a hundred times over, especially when you went after Zuhadoom. We saw what that creature did to anyone who got close. Yet there you were, charging straight at him."
Harry stared down into his tankard, the memories flooding back. The moment he had locked eyes with the necromancer across the battlefield, he knew it would come down to them. The sky had darkened with unnatural clouds, and the air had grown cold as death. Zuhadoom had stood atop a rise, surrounded by the dead, his hands glowing with sickly, greenish light as he directed his army like a conductor of some macabre symphony.
"I had to make it personal," Harry said, his voice low but steady. "He was the puppet master. If we didn't cut the strings, we would have all died. It wasn't about glory—it was about survival."
Thorak leaned forward, his voice gruff but sincere. "And you did what had to be done. You took on Zuhadoom alone while we held the line."
Harry could still feel the weight of that fight—how the necromancer's dark magic had twisted and coiled around him, trying to suffocate him with waves of raw, vile power. Zuhadoom had been unlike any enemy Harry had faced before; his magic was ancient and filled with the evil hunger of death itself. The clash of their magic had sent shockwaves through the battlefield, but in the end, Harry had prevailed. His wand, the Aetherium Eclipsa, had glowed with the intensity of the magic he channeled through it, cutting through the necromancer's dark defenses like a blade.
"When I got to him, there wasn't time for spells or tactics," Harry said. "It was pure magic against magic. He was powerful, but he underestimated me. That's what gave me the opening to strike."
Daruk grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming. "And strike you did. I saw the flash from across the hill. Zuhadoom fell, and the battle turned. His undead lost their will, their coordination. You took the heart out of the enemy."
Goruk raised his tankard again, this time more solemnly. "To the Tribune who slew the necromancer."
The others joined in the toast, clinking their tankards together once more. Harry drank deeply, the taste of goblin ale now mingling with the memory of the battle—the hard-won victory that had come at such a high cost. Heroes Hill had been a victory, but it had also been a reminder of the darkness that still loomed on the horizon.
After a moment, Harry set his tankard down and smiled. "I might have killed Zuhadoom, but it was all of us who won that battle. I wouldn't have survived without the three of you watching my back."
Daruk chuckled, shaking his head. "True enough, Thrain. We're not letting you take all the credit."
Thorak's serious expression softened as he raised his drink once more. "To all who fought and fell at Heroes Hill. May their sacrifice never be forgotten."
The four of them sat in silence for a moment. Each lost in their thoughts of the battle. The Gilded Goblet around them buzzed with the usual noise and laughter, but at their table, the weight of shared history hung in the air like a heavy cloak.
Finally, Daruk broke the silence with a grin. "So, Tribune, what's next for Thrain Spellblade? Got any more necromancers to slay?"
Harry laughed, the tension easing from his shoulders. "No necromancers for now. But something tells me this isn't the last time we'll be in the thick of it together."
Daruk raised his tankard one last time, the sparkle of mischief in his eyes. "Then here's to the next battle. May it be just as glorious."
Harry clinked his tankard against Daruk's, feeling their friendship and respect bond. Whatever came next, he knew he wouldn't be facing it alone.
Chapter 278 "Choices"
Harry's head spun as he stood before the great stone doors of the Potter-Black vaults deep within Gringotts. The ancient goblin standing beside him, Griphook's distant descendant, eyed him warily, but there was a sense of respect between them. The Black and Potter family legacies ran deeper in magic than Harry understood. But now, he was beginning to.
After all these years, he had only scratched the surface of his inheritance—both in wealth and power. But something had changed. Something had awakened within him. The Crown of Ravenclaw bestowed upon him months ago had unlocked ancient knowledge deep in his mind—knowledge that no spellbook could teach. The knowledge was both a gift and a burden.
As Harry stepped forward, the vault doors creaked open, revealing a cavernous space lined with treasures, artifacts, and relics. Golden galleons spilled from chests, ancient tomes filled dark corners, and precious heirlooms from the Potters and the Blacks gleamed in the dim light. Yet none of that mattered now. He was here for something far more critical.
The knowledge that had been downloaded into his mind—ancient and potent—was guiding him now. It had led him to this moment, to this vault. Lady Ravenclaw's Crown had unlocked secrets that Harry hadn't even realized were hidden within him. And now, he would use that knowledge to craft the twin to the Aetherium Eclipsa, the second wand that would complete his mastery of Gemini Magica.
Harry moved through the vault purposefully, his feet almost unconsciously drawn to specific shelves and cases, guided by the knowledge that now pulsed in his mind. He could practically feel the magical energy in the air, a hum that resonated with the ley lines that converged beneath Hogwarts. The magic was ancient and primal, and Harry would soon channel it to create a wand.
The components were here. He could sense them, and he began to find them individually.
The First Component: Starforged Mithril In one corner of the vault, hidden behind stacks of gold and silver, Harry's eyes fell upon a small, intricately carved wooden chest. The moment he opened it, his breath caught. Inside was a lump of Starforged Mithril, its surface shimmering like liquid starlight. This rare metal, forged in the heart of a dying star, was far more powerful than any normal mithril. It was light, nearly weightless, but its strength was legendary—the perfect match for the Aetherium Eclipsa's base of Mithril. As Harry held the Starforged Mithril in his hands, the ancient knowledge stirred within him, whispering incantations and spells needed to shape this metal and bind it to the wand.
The Second Component: Celestial Silver Next, he found a large, ornate box resting atop a pedestal at the back of the vault. The moment Harry lifted the lid, a blinding light flooded the room. Inside was a bar of Celestial Silver, its surface gleaming with an otherworldly sheen. This was no ordinary silver—it was imbued with the stars' power. Celestial silver was known for its magical conductivity, far beyond that of ordinary silver. It could channel and amplify magic with unparalleled precision. This would form the wand's body, much like the Aetherium Eclipsa's Silver Adamantium.
Harry felt the weight of the silver in his hand, knowing that once shaped, it would not only enhance his magic but allow him to weave it in ways that even the greatest wizards could only dream of.
The Third Component: The Core—Dragonstone Crystal The final component lies in a small, locked chest tucked away in the deepest recesses of the vault. Harry whispered a few words in the ancient tongue that had come to him through the Crown's knowledge, and the lock clicked open. Inside was a sliver of Dragonstone Crystal—a gem that radiated raw magical energy.
The Dragonstone Crystal was unlike anything Harry had ever seen before. It pulsed with deep, fiery light, shifting between shades of crimson and gold. This crystal was said to be born in the heart of dragon fire, tempered by the ancient magic of the earth. Its affinity for magical energy was unparalleled, and it was the perfect counterpart to the Crystalis Obscura core in the Aetherium Eclipsa. The two cores would be like mirrors, reflecting and amplifying each other's power, creating a balance between Harry's wands that was essential for his new style.
The Dragonstone Crystal would be the heart of the new wand, its fiery energy complementing the cold precision of the Aetherium Eclipsa.
With all the components gathered, Harry knew it was time. The ancient knowledge in his mind whispered the following steps that would take him back to Hogwarts, to the hidden chamber where the ley lines converged. A place few had ever known existed.
Chapter 279 "A Moment of Rest"
Harry stood at the entrance of the Raven Room, the heart of his magical dimensional tower, gifted to him by Helena Ravenclaw. The room was vast, with walls that shimmered like moonlight and the air humming with magic. He had spent over twelve hours relentlessly searching the Potter and Black vaults, sifting through treasures, ancient relics, and forgotten artifacts. His body ached with exhaustion, but his mind was still buzzing with the thrill of discovery.
The Starforged Mithril, Celestial Silver, and Dragonstone Crystal were finally in his possession, each glowing faintly in the dim light of the Raven Room. These components—rare, powerful, and deeply magical—were the final pieces to craft the twin to the Aetherium Eclipsa. He had known that his search would take a toll, but he hadn't anticipated the emotional weight of finding the materials that would change everything about his magic.
With a flick of his wand, Harry opened the vault within the Raven Room, where time seemed to slow. The air felt thick with potential. He placed each precious component inside, watching the vault door seal with a soft hiss. He knew the magic was secure now, untouched until he was ready to forge the twin wand. But the time wasn't now. He needed rest, and he needed to clear his mind.
He turned from the vault, exhaustion finally settling into his bones. The search had consumed his night, and the few hours he had left before dawn were spent drinking and laughing with the Sergeants who had insisted on sharing a few pints with him after his return. It had been a welcome distraction, but now the weight of fatigue pressed heavily on him.
Harry stripped out of his clothes, leaving them in a pile as he went to the shower. The hot water hit his skin, easing the tension in his muscles and washing away the grime of a long day. He closed his eyes, letting the steam rise around him, clearing his thoughts. The wand components, the magic they held, the power they promised—it could wait. He would complete the twin wand this weekend when his mind and body rested, and he was ready to weave the ancient spells with the precision and care they required.
For now, he needed to recharge.
After his shower, Harry grabbed a vial of Pepper-Up Potion from the shelf. The potion's effects were immediate, warmth and energy flooding his body as the steam curled from his ears. It didn't erase his exhaustion but it was enough to push him through the day ahead. Today wasn't about the wand or the crafting; today was about his friends, his girlfriends, and a chance to step away from the intensity of magic, even for a little while.
He changed into his uniform—simple, comfortable robes with the insignia of Hogwarts stitched on the left breast, a reminder of his connection to the castle, to his past, and now, to his future. Harry glanced in the mirror, his eyes still tired but his posture straight, the potion's effects giving him a much-needed boost.
As he made his way out of the tower and back into the heart of Hogwarts, the hallways seemed quieter than usual, the early morning light casting long shadows across the stone floors. The castle's magic seemed to hum beneath his feet, but today, he didn't feel the usual weight of responsibility pressing down on him. Today was a day for balance—he'd promised himself that.
Harry smiled as he entered the Great Hall, his eyes immediately drawn to the familiar faces gathered around one of the long tables. Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis were seated near the center, deep in conversation, their hands gesturing animatedly as they spoke. Daphne, poised and elegant as always, seemed to be explaining something, her relaxed demeanor contrasting with Tracey's more lively, expressive nature. Harry could see their bond in how they interacted, a silent understanding between them, but Tracey did most of the talking, her hands fluttering through the air.
Nearby, Neville and Draco sat together, an unlikely pair, but their friendship had grown after the incident on the train. Draco, who had once been cold and distant, now wore an expression of quiet thoughtfulness as Neville chatted beside him. The two had become an unexpected source of support for each other, and it was clear to Harry that their shared experiences had forged a strong bond.
And there, in her usual place, Luna Lovegood sat dressed in her flowing white robes, her breakfast plate half-forgotten as she gazed dreamily around the Hall. She nibbled absentmindedly at a piece of toast, her eyes often drifting upward toward the enchanted ceiling. Despite her otherworldly demeanor, Harry noticed how Daphne glanced at her occasionally with a watchful, protective look in her eyes. The contrast between Daphne's composed presence and Luna's ethereal nature always amused Harry. Daphne might pretend to be aloof, but Harry knew better—she cared deeply for the people around her, even if she showed it subtly and calculatedly.
As Harry made their way toward the table, he caught Daphne's eye, and she gave him a slight, acknowledging nod, her incredible blue eyes flickering with a hint of warmth before returning to whatever Tracey was excitedly rambling about. Tracey waved him over energetically, thrilled to have the whole group gathering again.
"Harry! You're just in time," Tracey called out, her voice bright as she gestured for him to sit. "We were just talking about that ridiculous thing Neville did yesterday in Herbology. You have to hear this!"
Harry grinned and slid into a seat beside Neville, who flushed slightly but smiled good-naturedly. "It wasn't that bad," Neville protested, though his sheepish grin betrayed him.
"You set the greenhouse on fire!" Tracey teased, laughing. "You're lucky Professor Sprout wasn't there to see it."
Neville groaned, burying his face in his hands. "It was an accident…"
Draco smirked from across the table, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Only you, Longbottom, could turn pruning into a disaster."
The group's laughter echoed around the Hall, and for a moment, the weight that had been sitting on Harry's shoulders since his long night lifted. He felt a warm sense of belonging wash over him. Here, among his friends, the pressures of the magical world and the responsibilities he carried seemed distant.
As if sensing Harry's gaze, Luna looked up from her plate and gave him a soft, serene smile. "Good morning, Harry. You're glowing today," she said dreamily, as if it were the most natural thing to say.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Glowing?"
"Hmm," Luna replied, tilting her head slightly, her silver eyes glittering with quiet knowledge. "You've been touched by something powerful. Ancient magic, perhaps. It's all around you now."
Daphne's eyes flicked briefly toward Harry at Luna's comment, her expression unreadable. Still, Harry could feel her attention settle on him for a moment longer than usual before she returned to her conversation with Tracey.
"I think you might be seeing things again, Luna," Ginny said with a laugh, though her tone was warm.
Harry, however, couldn't help but wonder if Luna was sensing the components' energy for his new wand. The ancient knowledge from Ravenclaw's Crown still buzzed faintly at the back of his mind, a hum of magical potential he had yet to grasp fully. But that was a concern for another day. Today, he would enjoy the company of his friends.
He leaned back in his seat, content to let the conversation and laughter wash over him, knowing that crafting the twin to the Aetherium Eclipsa would come soon enough. But for now, surrounded by those he cared about, Harry allowed himself the rare luxury of rest.
Harry couldn't help but laugh when he heard Neville recount how he had managed to start a fire in his favorite class—Herbology. The table erupted in laughter as Neville flushed a deeper shade of red, but his sheepish grin showed he was taking it all in good humor.
"Only you, Neville," Harry chuckled, shaking his head. He glanced over at Luna, sitting beside Daphne, her silver eyes wandering lazily toward the enchanted ceiling while her breakfast sat mostly untouched.
"Luna, your breakfast is getting cold, " Harry said with a playful smile. ""You should eat.""
Luna looked at him, her expression between a pout and an eye roll. "But Harry," she huffed, "it's so unfair. You get to glow and play with powerful ancient items, and I'm forced to sit here and eat a balanced breakfast with no pudding." She jabbed at her eggs dramatically, as if they had personally offended her, before reluctantly taking a bite.
Everyone at the table laughed again. Tracy leaned over and affectionately ruffled Luna's hair. "Don't worry, Luna. Maybe after you finish your healthy meal, Harry will let you borrow one of his ancient artifacts," Tracy teased, her eyes twinkling.
Harry grinned, watching as Luna sighed, clearly still sulking but obediently taking another bite of her food. "We'll see about the artifacts, but the pudding… that's out of my hands," he said with mock seriousness. "You know the rules—balanced breakfast first, then dessert."
Luna gave him a soft smile between bites, her usual dreamy gaze locking onto him momentarily. "I suppose you're right. You can't have pudding and play with powerful items on an empty stomach. It might make the Nargles jealous."
Harry shook his head, laughing under his breath. Only Luna could turn something as simple as breakfast into a grand existential problem. He noticed Daphne watching Luna from across the table, a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Daphne might have appeared reserved to most people, but Harry could see the warmth behind her watchful gaze. She had always looked out for Luna, even if it was in her own quiet, controlled way.
Draco, silently observing the scene with a raised eyebrow, leaned in with a smirk. " Potter, letting your reputation get to your head, are we?" he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of the old Draco mischief in his voice. "Next thing we know, you'll bestow magical artifacts upon us like a proper king."
Harry rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the grin tugging at his lips. "I'll keep that in mind, Malfoy. Maybe I'll gift you something shiny if you behave."
Draco snorted, shaking his head, while Neville muttered something about Draco and plants being a dangerous combination—earning a fresh round of laughter from the group.
Harry felt the tension from his long, sleepless night melt away as the conversation flowed. For a while, the pressure of the magical tasks—crafting the twin wand, mastering Gemini Magica—seemed less daunting. Here, surrounded by his friends, the world outside felt far away, and Harry was content to be present, laugh, and enjoy the moment.
For now, everything else could wait for a week or two.
Chapter 280 "A Week of Peace"
The crisp autumn air swept through the halls of Hogwarts as Harry made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. The sun began rising, casting a golden glow over the castle grounds. The week had barely started, but already it promised to be a busy one. Between classes, training sessions, and spending time with his friends, Harry felt the familiar hum of Hogwarts life in full swing.
As he entered the Great Hall, Harry spotted Daphne Greengrass sitting at their usual spot, her posture elegant as ever, a cup of tea held delicately in her hands. Beside her, Tracey Davis was already animatedly chatting away, her hands gesturing as she spoke. Harry couldn't help but smile as he approached them, greeted by Daphne's calm, warm smile.
"Morning, Harry," Daphne said softly, her voice carrying a certain serenity that always seemed to ground him.
"Morning, Daphne, Tracey," Harry replied, sliding into the seat beside Daphne. He reached for a piece of toast, noting how Tracey was already launching into a story about the gossip she'd overheard in the Slytherin standard room. Daphne listened with polite interest, occasionally nodding or offering a subtle comment.
Across the table, Neville Longbottom was deep in conversation with Draco Malfoy, an odd but inseparable pair. Since the beginning of school and the battle on the train with the Dementors and Aurors, they had found common ground in their shared experiences and had grown close. Harry still found it strange to see Draco's familiar smirk and Neville's earnest expressions, but it worked for them.
As breakfast continued, Luna Lovegood wandered in, her white robes flowing around her as she moved with her usual dreamlike grace. She sat beside Harry, her eyes drifting up toward the enchanted ceiling. It wasn't until Harry nudged her plate closer that she seemed to notice the food in front of her.
"Morning, Luna," Harry greeted with a smile. "You might want to start your breakfast before it gets cold."
Luna sighed dramatically, her silver eyes narrowing slightly at her plate. "It's just so unfair, Harry. Every morning, I'm expected to eat this healthy food before I can have any pudding. It's an injustice."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "We've been over this, Luna. Balanced breakfast first, then pudding. You know the rules."
Luna huffed, picking up her fork and poking at her eggs. "Yes, but that doesn't make it any less cruel."
Draco, who had been listening with amusement, leaned over and smirked. "Look on the bright side, Lovegood. At least you're not expected to eat slugs."
Neville groaned at the memory of a misfired spell from their second year, but Luna smiled, her mood lightening as she took a reluctant bite of her breakfast.
The group spent the rest of the meal talking about the week ahead. There were Herbology lessons with Professor Sprout that Neville was particularly excited about, Potions with Professor Slughorn that Draco insisted would be a breeze, and for Harry, there were the private training sessions he had scheduled to perfect Gemini Magica. He would not find out how his new fighting style would work until he crafted his new wand. The thought of it filled him with a sense of anticipation, even as he knew it would be demanding.
Tuesday: The Library
By midweek, Harry found himself in the library with Daphne, Tracey, Neville, and Draco. They had agreed to work on their assignments together—at least, that was the plan. Tracey was supposed to be helping Neville with his Potions essay. Still, she kept getting distracted, her eyes flicking between the pages of her textbook and the passing students, occasionally whispering something to Daphne and breaking into giggles.
Ever the diligent student, Daphne was fully immersed in her work, her quill moving smoothly across the parchment. Sitting beside her, Harry tried to focus on his Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment, but he watched Daphne more than he was reading his textbook. Something about how she was so composed and confident always drew him in.
Draco, on the other hand, was busily making notes, his brow furrowed in concentration. He had been determined to maintain top marks in his classes since returning to Hogwarts, something that Harry couldn't help but admire. Their relationship had changed so much over the past few years—from bitter rivals to genuine friends—and moments like these reminded Harry of how far they had come.
Luna, who had joined them later, was flipping through a book on magical creatures, humming softly to herself. Harry noticed her glance over at the section on Thestrals, her expression thoughtful. He leaned over and whispered, "Thinking about the Thestrals again?"
Luna looked up at him, her usual dreamy smile in place. They're such beautiful creatures, aren't they? So misunderstood.""
Harry nodded, a warm feeling spreading through him. Luna always saw the beauty in the things others overlooked, and that was something he cherished about her.
"Luna," Daphne's calm voice broke in, a subtle smile playing on her lips, "perhaps you should focus on your Transfiguration essay instead of planning your next Thestral sighting. "
Luna sighed, but she nodded, turning back to her parchment. "Yes, I suppose so. But only because I want to finish quickly and return to the Thestrals. "
After that, the group worked in a comfortable silence, with only the occasional whisper between Tracey and Neville or the sound of quills scratching against parchment. It was peaceful, and Harry appreciated the simple pleasure of studying with his friends.
Thursday: The Greenhouses
On Thursday, they had Herbology with Professor Sprout, which was always a highlight for Neville. The greenhouses were filled with vibrant plants, and the air was rich with the scent of earth and growing things. Neville was in his element, enthusiastically explaining the care of the Fanged Geraniums, his eyes bright.
Daphne listened attentively. Her usual calm demeanor softened as she watched Neville demonstrate how to properly trim the aggressive plants without getting bitten. Even Draco seemed impressed, though he kept his comments to a minimum, preferring to observe rather than participate.
"Careful, Malfoy, " Harry teased as Draco reached toward a particularly snappy Geranium. "Those things bite. "
Draco smirked, pulling his hand back just in time. "I think I'll leave the dangerous plants to Longbottom, thanks."
Tracy, tending to her plant, suddenly piped up. "You know, Fanged Geraniums are known to be very sensitive to the moods of the witches and wizards who care for them. They can sense if you're nervous. "
Looking more confident than Harry had ever seen, Neville smiled and added, "Tracy's right. If you stay calm, they'll be easier to handle."
Harry watched as Draco carefully followed Neville's instructions, the tension in the greenhouse easing as they worked together. Moments like these made Harry feel deeply contented, seeing his friends coexist and genuinely connect.
Friday: The Great Hall
By the time Friday rolled around, Harry was ready for a break. The week had been filled with classes, training sessions, and moments of quiet companionship, but now, as they gathered for dinner in the Great Hall, he was looking forward to unwinding with his friends.
The Hall was filled with the warm glow of candlelight, chatter, and clinking cutlery, creating a lively atmosphere. Harry sat down beside Daphne, who was as composed as ever, though her gaze was softened as she watched him. Tracy, as usual, was full of energy, engaging in a playful debate with Draco about Quidditch tactics, while Neville listened in with a grin.
As the main course was served, Harry noticed Luna staring forlornly at her plate again. She sighed dramatically, her eyes drifting toward the dessert table where the puddings were waiting.
"Luna, you know the deal," Harry reminded her teasingly. "Eat your dinner first, then you can have your pudding."
Luna huffed, poking at her vegetables with her fork. "It's just so unfair, Harry. I'm forced to eat all these healthy things when I only want a little pudding. I think the house elves are conspiring against me."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm sure they're just looking out for you, Luna. And besides, you'll enjoy the pudding more if you've had a proper dinner."
Luna grumbled something under her breath but obediently began to eat her meal, though she didn't seem particularly happy about it.
Quietly observing the exchange, Daphne leaned closer to Harry and whispered, "You have a way with her, you know."
Harry smiled, feeling the warmth spread through him at Daphne's words. "I think she just humors me," he replied softly.
The rest of the meal passed in a relaxed, pleasant atmosphere. When dessert was finally served, Luna's eyes lit up, and she eagerly dug into her pudding, her earlier grumpiness forgotten. Harry watched with amusement as she practically devoured the treat, a contented smile on her face.
As they all lingered at the table, enjoying the last remnants of their meal, Harry felt a deep sense of contentment. The week had been filled with its usual ups and downs, moments of laughter and quiet reflection, but the time spent with his friends made it all worthwhile. Daphne's hand found him under the table. And Harry squeezed it gently, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. He had come to rely on Daphne's steady and reassuring presence, especially during weeks like this one, filled with the usual chaos of life at Hogwarts.
As they sat there, surrounded by their friends' warm chatter and laughter, Harry couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. The weight of his responsibilities, the pressures of mastering new magic, and the lingering remnants of the past all seemed a little lighter when he was with them.
Tracey's animated conversation with Draco had devolved into a lighthearted argument about the best Quidditch teams while Neville chuckled along, occasionally offering his input. Across the table, Luna was savoring her pudding, and a look of pure bliss on her face made Harry smile. She caught his eye and gave him a satisfied nod as if to say the pudding was worth waiting for.
Daphne turned to Harry, her expression softening as she observed him. "You've been working hard," she said quietly, her voice loud enough for him to hear. "I'm glad you're taking some time to relax."
Harry nodded, his thumb brushing lightly over her hand. "I needed this," he admitted. "It's been a long week, but moments like these make it all worth it."
Daphne's lips curved into a small smile, and she leaned in, briefly resting her head on his shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about their closeness and the quiet understanding that had grown between them.
As the evening wore on and the Great Hall began to empty, the group remained at the table, reluctant to let the moment end. It wasn't often that they all had time to be together without the demands of schoolwork, magic, or the weight of the past pressing down on them.
Eventually, they knew it was time to return to their common rooms. Tracey yawned and stretched, nudging Draco with her elbow. "Come on, Malfoy. Let's go before the house elves start clearing the table from under us."
Draco rolled his eyes but got to his feet, offering a hand to Neville, who took it with a grin. "Another week down," Neville said, looking around at his friends. "Let's do this again soon."
"Definitely," Harry agreed, rising from his seat and helping Daphne. Still savoring the last bit of her pudding, Luna gave them all a dreamy smile.
"Thank you for the pudding, Harry," she said as if he had personally orchestrated the whole meal. "It was delightful."
Harry chuckled. "Anytime, Luna."
As they made their way out of the Great Hall and into the cool evening air, Harry felt a sense of peace settle over him. The week's challenges, endless tasks, and responsibilities were still there, but they didn't seem so overwhelming for now.
With Daphne by his side, her hand still entwined with his, and his friends walking close behind, Harry felt ready to face whatever the next week would bring. Together, they could handle anything.
Harry looked at the ceiling, smiling, as he could feel the energy burning through his body. He would begin tonight at midnight to craft his new wand, the twin to the Aetherium Eclipsa.