Disclaimer: As usual, I'm not the owner of Harry Potter. All rights go to it's rightful owner.
Rachnis: Hello ! Well, that's your opinion. But I can't say I agree with it. Maybe it's because now I'm trying to write my own stories, but I like it when writers try to add their own ideas into the story, without always stucking to the lore. It's not always good, but the goal of writing is to try things in order to improve. Anyway, take care, and if you don't keep reading, I hope you'll find something else that you like.
Hank1967: Hey ! Thanks for the support. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. Take care, and have a great day !
CaskettFan5: Well, good to know you liked Remus' thoughts. I feel like he's the only one left with more than 2 braincells hahaha. Anyway, about Alexander and Hadrian... They indeed will have a lot of problems... if they are alive. And that's the main question...
george17: Well, hello ! I suppose you won't read that answer, as you stopped reading the fanfic, but... well, I'll still write it. First thank you for taking the time to write such a detailed review. However (and obviously), I can't agree with you. First, you seem to forget that older Harry wasn't prepared to time-travel (so no plan, or things like that in mind). Furthermore, he went through a world war, and a lot of traumatic events, so his mind, because of that not already in a very good state, had other things to think of. I took the time to write every thought of my characters (that's even something people constantly complain about), so you can't miss it. I doesn't write it that way for any reason. I simply try to stick his character, and, sorry to disappoint, but he isn't some kind of perfect guy who's omniscient. Then, about the fact that he should have destroyed and killed Voldemort... well, I won't spoil for other people who are reading that, but it is not that easy (well, in my story at least). Finally, you said that I nerfed him when I: constantly made him fight at a disadvantage (against hundreds of people, etc...), Dark Lords, etc, all alone and made him win almost everytime without having any big injuries. Anyway, thanks still for giving it a try. I wish you the best, and I hope you'll find something that suits you more. Take care !
guest: He could have... but he is a wizard, so he doesn't think with "I can find a car" or "I call a taxi" but "I can apparate" and other magic transportation techniques. Furthermore, Harry Potter is not known for being kind with himself. If something works somehow, whatever he has to go through, then he'll do it anyway. He's not known for taking care of himself. Take care, and have a good day !
Well, I hope you are all doing good. I wish you a wonderful day ! Take care everyone.
PS: I'm sorry in advance for all the mistakes you'll see in this chapter. Had a lot to do this week and I didn't found the time to correctly re-read it. I hope it won't be too much of a bother.
11/28/1994, 12H15, Hogwarts, Scotland:
Harry finished eating his chicken wing, a bit dubious. "So, you don't have any more information on this?" he asked Hermione, whose brow was slightly furrowed.
The young girl apologised sincerely. "No, Harry, I'm really sorry." She continued, her voice taking on a certain gravity, "All I can tell you is that the person who put your name in the Goblet is from our school. I've done my own research, looking into Durmstrang and its headmaster, Igor Karkaroff. It seems that the latter is a former Death Eater, who betrayed his former... comrades... to escape Azkaban. It's therefore very likely that he's the last person who would want Voldemort to return."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. He really did have loyal friends, there was no doubt about it. Hermione, usually incapable of not turning in her homework six weeks in advance, had almost sacrificed one of them because of the research she was doing for him. "Thank you, Hermione, that's very kind of you," he said gratefully. "Get some rest now. If my name was truly entered by someone from Hogwarts, they'll eventually be found out. If it's a student, I should be able to handle it. If it's a teacher... Well, let's hope Dumbledore knows how to deal with it." A low growl escaped him, betraying the irritation he still felt towards the headmaster.
His uncle had managed to forge strong bonds with the old man. But he, because of his past, couldn't bring himself to forget his grudge. Not yet, at least. Maybe he would one day. But until then, the headmaster would have to put up with him.
A sly smile appeared on Harry's lips. "You've spent a lot of time with Viktor Krum lately, I've heard. I imagine you got your information about Durmstrang from him?"
A light blush coloured Hermione's cheeks. "Yes, he's a rather nice guy," she admitted, a little embarrassed. "After your discussion following the first task, he came to see me to ask if I knew you well. At first, I thought he was just trying to get information out of me." She grabbed another piece of meat with her fork and slowly brought it to her mouth. "But after spending time with him these past two days... I have to say he's not so bad. He's the one who told me about Karkaroff. Apparently, when he learned that your name had been added to the Tournament, the headmaster forced the entire Durmstrang contingent to take a magical oath to ensure they were in no way involved."
Harry gave Hermione a smile, this time sincere. "As long as you're happy, you don't have to apologise, Hermione," he reassured her in a gentle voice. "Just be careful. Everyone knows you're the best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived," he added, emphasising with a hint of disgust the title he had been given. "Someone with bad intentions might want to use you to harm me."
Hermione took the warning seriously. She had truly missed Harry since he'd left. Every day, she worried about him, hoping he was doing well and keeping up with his homework. Although his safety mattered more than anything else, of course!
Without Neville and Ron, when he wasn't training for Quidditch, she wouldn't have survived her third year at Hogwarts. The Dementors would probably have ended up sucking every last bit of positivity out of her soul.
"Yeah, he's really nice, Viktor, isn't he?" Neville piped up from his seat next to Hermione. The remark earned him a dark look from the girl, but before she could question him, he changed the subject. "So, do you know what's up with this egg?"
Harry winked at the boy, a gesture that didn't escape Hermione. However, for once, she had to admit defeat, not understanding the exchange of innuendos between her two best friends. "I've examined this thing from every angle," he admitted, a frown slightly wrinkling his face. "Frankly, I'm starting to run out of ideas. As soon as I open it, I feel like I can hear the screams of the baby Mandrakes we studied in Herbology two years ago."
Finishing his plate, he threw out his latest idea. "I think I'll try opening it in different environments, to see if it reacts. Since it's a dragon's egg, maybe it needs to be placed in fire, like to incubate it?" he mused aloud. "Otherwise, I'll try putting it in water, or something like that. But frankly, I'm not in a hurry to take a bath in the lake in this cold weather. It's the best way to catch a cold and to start shitting wat-" he began, before being abruptly interrupted by Neville, who was evidently as uninterested in Harry's intestinal problems as he was in Viktor.
"Anyway, congratulations on tying for second place with Fleur!" exclaimed Neville, gripping his knife in his hand. "I'm sure that if Karkaroff hadn't given you a zero, you could have come first. It's unfair that he can cheat so openly."
Harry shrugged, indifferent to the Durmstrang headmaster's decision. "Meh, he can do what he wants. My only goal is to survive and find the wizard who put me in this situation. Don't worry about it. Besides, I didn't deserve a perfect score either. I got hit by the dragon."
"You got away with nothing more than a small scratch! Against a Hungarian Horntail! That's no small feat," exclaimed Hermione, surprised that Harry was so unhappy with such a minor mistake.
The boy shook his head, not wanting to pursue the discussion. They continued to chat, moving from one subject to another. The atmosphere was rather peaceful, and for once, the three Gryffindors could chat without the topic turning to someone's imminent death.
Harry was surprised to appreciate this feeling of temporary peace. He knew that as soon as he would leave the Great Hall, he would have to get back to training. But for now, he could talk about the latest Muggle movies, Quidditch matches, or the Weird Sisters' latest album, without having to be constantly on his guard.
'One day, this peace will be permanent,' he decided, before a clinking of glass pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Excuse me for interrupting your lunch, but I have an announcement to make," began Dumbledore, his unamplified voice resonating throughout the hall.
"As you know, it is customary, during the year of the Triwizard Tournament, to have a Yule Ball. So, I officially announce that on the evening of the 24th of December, this same hall will host the Yule Ball. All fourth-year students and above from the three schools are invited. For younger students, it is still possible to come if invited by an older student," explained the headmaster, pausing as the wizards and witches too young to participate let out rather loud complaints.
"The champions will open the ball with a dance that they will perform jointly with their partners. After that, everyone will be free to go and do as they please," finished the old man, before adding one last piece of information.
"For those, other than the champions, who are interested, please note your name on the list that will appear in front of you," he said, snapping his fingers.
Harry then saw a large majority of students add their names to the sheet, including Hermione and Neville. He then turned his attention to the Slytherin table, where he saw Daphne Greengrass writing on the sheet. Feeling his gaze on her, she looked up and smiled at him, before the sheet in front of her disappeared, leading Harry to assume that she had just signed up.
Deciding he didn't want to waste any time, he turned to Neville, clearing his throat and declaring with a wink, "I'm going to go find myself a partner. After all, I wouldn't want someone else to beat me to it."
Hermione nodded in agreement, while Neville's eyes widened. Harry, having delivered his implicit message, wasted no time and left his seat. He crossed the Great Hall at a slow pace, gradually approaching the blonde who was waiting for him.
On his way, he was intercepted by Draco Malfoy, always accompanied by his loyal bodyguards, Goyle and Crabbe. 'I wasn't thinking of that blonde,' he thought inwardly, before letting out an audible sigh. "Malfoy, don't worry, I won't touch your little friends," he said, pointing at the two boys behind the Slytherin. Discreet chuckles erupted around him, which made him smile.
Draco blushed, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand before he thought better of it. "Your provocations no longer affect me, Potter. I'm aiming for much higher heights than you could ever imagine," he mocked, taking Harry by surprise.
'There's definitely something strange going on with him. It's obvious. But what?' wondered the Gryffindor, before the boy's next words made him freeze in astonishment.
"And by the way, how's your uncle? My father is starting to get worried, you know. It's been almost a month since the last time he's set foot in the Ministry of Magic," said the boy in a falsely concerned tone.
The way he spoke gave Harry the impression that he knew what had happened to his uncle. But that was impossible. Lucius Malfoy could never have brought down Hadrian Potter. Again, he found himself at an impasse. He felt like he was holding the truth about what had happened the day he disappeared at his fingertips.
Malfoy's mockery slightly annoyed Harry, but before he could retaliate, he saw the boy and his two friends stumble and fall onto the stone floor. From behind them, Daphne Greengrass appeared, the tip of her wand still glowing with a red light.
"Frankly, if he had magical power as great as his mouth, he would rule the world. Ignore him, Harry, you're above all that. Don't step down to his ferret level," she mocked, evoking one of Harry's best memories to date: seeing the Slytherin transformed into a ferret running all over Hogwarts in search of a professor to help him.
He sighed. "You're right. I didn't come here for that. Can we talk after class? In private?" he asked.
The young girl nodded, clearly expecting Harry's request. "I don't mind. Shall we meet in the usual room?" she added in a whisper.
Harry nodded affirmatively, before turning and walking with determination towards the Gryffindor table. On his way, he couldn't help but step on Malfoy's shoulder, who groaned in anger and humiliation at this blatant disrespect.
The green-eyed boy couldn't help but wonder what Daphne would look like in a dress. She was already beautiful in her Hogwarts uniform, but he could easily imagine her looking resplendent in a more elegant outfit. Every time he was near her, he felt like the scent of her hair intoxicated him, an enchanting perfume that deeply disturbed him. Her courage, combined with an intelligence that would have earned her a place in Ravenclaw if she had wanted it, drew him to her like an irresistible magnet.
Above all, Daphne exuded an aura of strength and self-confidence that fascinated him. This strength, associated with a beauty unmatched by any of the girls he had met so far, at Hogwarts or elsewhere in the wizarding world, made him madly admire her.
For her part, the young girl was eagerly awaiting the moment to see the boy she had fallen in love with again. Luckily for her, she couldn't read Harry's mind. Otherwise, simply knowing that he was so attracted to her that he didn't even consider a half veela, while she was standing just a few metres away from him, would probably have melted her ice queen mask in front of the entire student population.
11/28/1994, 18H16, Hogwarts, Scotland:
"Thanks for earlier," Harry said, breaking the silence that had reigned since he entered the abandoned classroom. It had become a habit. When they met, the two teenagers would sit quietly and wait in silence until one of them took the initiative to start the conversation. It gave them time to sort out their respective thoughts.
"Don't worry about it. I saved Draco more than anything else, to be honest. You could have done much worse," she admitted, winking at the boy who shrugged.
They then began to talk about the progress of their two investigations. Harry told her about Hermione's words, as well as what he had been able to learn from Fleur, much to the blonde's displeasure. The latter, in turn, told him about her dead end in her research on her father, as well as her suspicions about her registration for the Tournament.
"Both investigations are hitting a dead end. On my father's side, I've questioned everyone, but nobody remembers seeing him. Plus, I didn't find the man with the scar on the guest list that Fortuna gave me. So either he managed to bypass the Manor's protections and infiltrate it, despite your uncle's vigilance, or he's an acquaintance of his," the young girl explained. Harry, letting his gaze lose itself in hers, couldn't help but notice the pronounced dark circles that were beginning to mark his friend's face.
"You should get some rest, Daphne. You're starting to look like a panda. And for a human, that's usually not a good sign..."
She shook her head, but smiled at the Gryffindor's concern. "Come on, Potter, who do you think I am?" she scoffed, feigning offence.
She then stood up, took out her wand, and made room by pushing the tables and chairs. Harry, understanding her intention, joined her as she spoke again.
"Otherwise, for your research, know that the person who added your name is a Hogwarts professor. I asked if I could study the enchantments on the cup to Professor Dumbledore, and even if he didn't show them to me in detail, I can tell you that what I saw is well beyond the capacities of a Hogwarts student. No student would have the necessary skills to bypass these protections."
Harry raised his wand towards her and cast a disarming spell, gently initiating hostilities. "I see. I'll talk to the headmaster about it then. He knows his staff better than I do," he admitted with a grimace.
"But if I had to bet, I'd put the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at the top of the list. Nationally recognized Auror or not, he's a little too fond of Unforgivable Curses for my taste."
Harry deflected the two ice projectiles that Daphne launched at him, and conjured chains that he sent towards her, trying to immobilise her. Taken by surprise, she just managed to cast a cutting spell, breaking the chains before being pushed backwards. She then fell to the ground, her vision blurring slightly from the violent shock.
Taking advantage of her fall, he disarmed her and approached her, hand extended: "I won," he pointed out, before she took his hand. She then growled, annoyed by the speed of the duel, and walked towards her wand. When she turned around, Harry was in front of her, a bouquet of flowers in hand.
"Daphne Greengrass, would you do me the honour of being my date to the Yule Ball?" he asked, adopting the air of a courteous knight.
"Stop joking around, Potter," she snorted, unable to hide the blush that crept up her cheeks. She then stepped towards him, placing herself right in front of his face. She could feel his warm breath on her forehead, and had to stop herself from taking him in her arms.
"Of course, you idiot. I'd be delighted to accompany you," she declared, causing a smile to bloom on the Gryffindor's face.
To her great surprise, he then took her in his arms, causing the bouquet to float beside them. She felt her heart pounding in her chest, while his quickly joined the rhythm of hers.
They remained in this position for a few more moments, before Harry pulled back. "I don't want to be a spoilsport, but... I don't know how to dance at all," he admitted a little sheepishly. It was the first time Daphne had seen the little boy she had fallen in love with again.
"Then I'll teach you. And you'd better learn fast, because I don't want to dishonour the Greengrass name in front of the whole school," she warned him, raising her finger in front of his face.
"Got it, boss! You can count on me!" he replied, happy to have an excuse to spend more time with the girl he loved. "And besides, the honour of the Potters is also at stake."
They finished their discussion about the Ball, and then resumed their training, exchanging banter throughout. It ranged from simple jokes to taunts aimed at hurting Harry's ego, and remarks about Daphne's lack of femininity. The two teenagers trained both their bodies and their minds, the ability to remain lucid in any circumstance being more than necessary in a fight to death.
As the sun set, they slowed down, deciding to move on to a different type of training.
"So, what spell do you want to learn tonight?" Harry asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel.
"I'd like you to teach me how to cast a Patronus if you can. There's no way I want to suffer from Dementors again. I need to be able to defend myself."
Harry understood Daphne's determination, but reminded her that the Patronus charm was particularly complex to master. Even among adults, those with a corporeal Patronus were a small minority.
He himself faced many difficulties before being able to cast it. Without the happy memories of his uncle and the precious time they had spent together, he would never have been able to conjure up enough joy to summon the ethereal animal... Well, until Draco Malfoy's transformation into a ferret, an event that would forever be etched in his memory as one of his best.
Despite Harry's warnings, Daphne, convinced she would succeed since he had, insisted on learning the spell. Defeated by her stubbornness, the Gryffindor agreed and explained the procedure to her.
They spent more than an hour trying, but without success. At best, Daphne managed to produce a faint silvery mist, but no concrete form emerged.
"Let's take a break, Daphne," Harry suggested, seeing the frustration mounting in the young girl. "Tonight has been tough. We'll continue another day, I promise. Would you like to try something else?"
Daphne, refusing to admit defeat, tried her luck a few more times before finally slumping into a chair, out of breath.
"Okay, fine," she said, resigned. "Teach me the gravity control spell you used during the trial instead. A spell of such power could turn the tide of a battle if used at the right time."
Harry grimaced, aware of the young girl's extravagant new request. "If that spell comes from the Potter grimoire, then forget what I just said," she added, knowing full well that such a request was not only impolite but also illegal under magical law.
"Don't worry, it's not part of it. My uncle Hadrian taught it to me," he reassured her. "The problem is, it consumes a lot of magic. Even my core, which is already well above average, empties in a few minutes when I use it. So for you, who is already exhausted..." he sighed.
Daphne, disappointed but understanding his reasoning, nodded and slumped in the chair.
"He taught you a lot during your training, didn't he?" she asked, her soft voice echoing in the isolated room.
"Yes... And even, 'a lot' is an understatement. It's like I'm rediscovering magic. And it's not over. I still have to beat the last levels of the training room at home. I'm far from his level," he admitted without any shame. On the contrary, the idea that Hadrian Potter was on a higher level seemed to fascinate him, for a reason he didn't yet understand.
"Some of the spells he taught me are terribly dangerous," Harry confided to Daphne, sitting down in front of her. "Just the gravity spell, as you call it, can easily kill its caster if it's mishandled. I still remember the day he taught it to me..."
He paused, lost in his memories. "He used it on me once when I had managed to corner him. It was the morning of... 'the party'," he blurted out, seemingly forgetting for a moment that he wasn't alone.
"When I saw him again later that night, I asked him if he could teach it to me. But like you, I had already trained like crazy before, and he explained to me what I just told you. I had to wait almost a week before we could actually practice it."
Suddenly, Harry felt the temperature drop in the room. He looked up, searching for the source of this sudden hostility, before turning to Daphne.
"Harry... Did you see your uncle that night?" she asked in a voice so cold that he felt like he was liquefying from the inside.
"Um... Yes," he admitted, knowing it was too late to backtrack. "I tried to tell you, but every time... Well... Someone would interrupt us," he said, scratching his head, uncomfortable.
"You didn't tell me that when I asked if you had seen anything else," she growled. "Tell me everything you saw."
That evening, 23H29:
Harry dove fluidly, dodging the incessant barrage of spells from Deos and deflecting the projectiles that flew in his direction. With a swift gesture, he straightened his wand, his eyes lit with a strange green glow.
In turn, he began to wield his wand with ample and controlled gestures, retaliating vigorously and managing to push the Dark Lord back.
However, a certain weariness was creeping over him. From an external point of view, his movements were undeniably graceful and powerful. But internally, he felt a growing frustration. Indeed, many of his victories relied solely on his considerable magical reserves. However, he aspired to more. He knew that Voldemort, due to the occult rituals he had engaged in, possessed a magical core similar to his own.
Thus, in the duel that opposed them, this wouldn't give him any real advantage. He needed to sharpen his instincts, deepen his knowledge, and increase his power. And he was determined to succeed.
With a deft movement, he spun his wand, tearing the stone floor beneath his feet. The effort made him stagger for a moment, but he quickly regained control of the situation.
Careful not to lose his concentration, he transferred control of the rock debris to his hand, imitating his uncle's technique. A throbbing pain ran through his arm, making him grimace.
It made him wonder how his uncle Hadrian managed to maintain spells as powerful as the ones he was using without losing his mind. In reality, it only underlined his status as an extraordinary wizard once again.
Muttering the incantation "Atlas", he conjured the most powerful magical shield possible, then reversed the flow of the two spells, regaining control of the rocks with his wand and holding Atlas with his hand.
This transfer slightly relieved the pain and allowed him to move on to the next step of his plan. Singing softly, he began to mould the mass of stone, showing a dexterity worthy of the son of James Potter, renowned for his extraordinary talent in Metamorphmagus.
Deos, for his part, didn't remain passive. He bombarded Harry's shield relentlessly, using an assortment of offensive spells: cutting spells, Bone-Breaker Curses, and various projectiles. Harry squeezed his core violently, unleashing a powerful magical shock wave. This slightly depleted his reserves, but gave him a brief respite.
He lowered his shield and finished his modelling. He had just created a stone golem. Pointing his wand at his creation, he cast the incantation "Piertotum Locomotor", breathing life into this stone colossus and bending it to his will.
He sent it charging towards the Spanish Dark Lord, taking advantage of this lull to rest from the effort. That was his mistake.
When an inert construction is animated by a wizard's magic, it becomes formidable, far surpassing the strength of a human being and offering its manipulator an arsenal of new possibilities. However, this creation remains fragile, its power being linked to the life of its creator. If the wizard who maintains the golem's cohesion succumbs, it collapses with him. This is the weakness of all wizards skilled in this particular area of magic.
Harry, instead of retreating behind his reinforced colossus, made the bold choice to send it into battle.
Deos, anticipating this strategy, didn't waste a second. He let the golem advance to his position, then quickly Apparated behind Harry. The latter, alerted by a sinister crack, turned around, but was violently slammed to the ground.
"That damn gravity spell again!" Harry grumbled, before a cutting spell hissed dangerously close to his neck.
"Trial over. Simulation interrupted. You lost after 17 minutes of combat. Current level: 7."
The Spanish street disintegrated, collapsing in on itself, while Harry got up, unharmed but covered in sweat.
After watching Alexander and the enigmatic man walk away to talk, he had immersed himself again in his training, determined to face Deos once more.
Just like his godfather, he was stuck at level seven, unable to break free from the gravity spell. Despite his repeated attempts, he always ended up pinned to the ground by the opponent. Once immobilised, the battle was lost.
Moving away from the centre of the room, he closed his eyes and conjured a table, a chair, and an empty glass of water.
"Aguamenti," he murmured over the glass, before grabbing it and draining it in one gulp.
"You know, you shouldn't put so much pressure on yourself. At your age, I was nowhere near your level," Hadrian said, emerging from the shadows.
"You've been here for a long time?" Harry asked, seemingly unfazed by his uncle's presence.
"I was looking for someone and I thought I'd stop by to see you," he said, conjuring a chair beside him.
"I'm really proud of you, Harry Potter. I've never met anyone with such discipline. Congratulations, sincerely," the older man insisted.
Harry stared at him. He knew his uncle was proud of him, but hearing him express his admiration filled him with happiness. For eleven long years, he had prayed in vain to receive such words from the Dursleys.
Today, he finally had a real family. Loved ones who valued and supported him. At that moment, he understood how precious the support of a caring environment was.
"Thank you, Uncle Hadrian," he said, savouring the compliment. Harry let his gaze wander into the void. Hadrian, satisfied with the effect of his words on the young man, began to back towards the exit.
"Uncle Hadrian, can I ask you a question?" Harry asked the man who had taken him under his wing.
"You just did," the older wizard joked gently. "But go on, I'm listening."
"I'd like to learn the gravity spell you used on me this morning," he blurted out, surprising the time traveller.
The man tilted his head, before lowering his blindfold, plunging his opalescent white eyes into his own. Harry then felt a strange sensation running through him, as if his very magical core was being examined from top to bottom.
"It's a very powerful spell. If the caster doesn't master it perfectly, it can be very dangerous, even deadly. And not just for other wizards around, but also for the caster himself," the man explained, more seriously than Harry had ever seen him.
"Your reserves should be sufficient to support it," Hadrian sighed, replacing his blindfold. "But is your mind?"
Harry nodded sharply, clenching his fists. "I will master it perfectly. No one will perish... Well, no one but my enemies. I promise you. I will only use it in case of real need," the young boy insisted. He had to learn this spell, no matter what.
Hadrian pursed his lips, as if looking for an excuse not to teach the spell to Harry, before giving in. "Alright, I'll teach it to you when I judge you ready. But be careful, please. Only use this spell in combat when you have mastered it perfectly," he insisted.
Harry nodded again, satisfied. He knew Hadrian cared deeply for him. But if he wanted to progress, he had to be ready for anything.
After all, it's much easier to rise as a wizard when you're young. The body is stronger, and the mind is more receptive to learning. That's why he had to make every effort to strengthen himself.
That way, he could protect his family, his friends... and Daphne. No one else would suffer. And everything would eventually work out.
Hadrian then resumed his walk towards the door, before stopping dead in his tracks, as if he had just remembered something. "Oh, by the way, haven't you seen Alexander pass by here?" he asked, his face completely devoid of emotion.
Harry looked up and stared at his uncle for a moment. He wondered, for a moment, why his uncle was looking for Daphne's father after he had already sent a messenger to deliver his words, but shook his head, the fatigue accumulated from his training weighing on his mind.
A few minutes earlier:
Harry was sitting in front of the training room, catching his breath after a long session of various exercises. He remained there for a few moments, lost in thought. In his head, he went over and over all the battles he had fought so far. He had no choice if he wanted to fill all his shortcomings.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed towards him. He straightened up sharply and squinted, trying to identify the newcomers, before raising his eyebrows in surprise.
"Mr. Greengrass? What are you doing here?" he asked, not expecting to see the older man in this part of the manor.
Beside the latter stood a wizard who intrigued Harry. He was clearly a stranger, probably discovering the Potter Manor for the first time, judging by his cold gaze that was analysing the building. This man also had a large scar on his face, which surprised Harry.
In the wizarding world, scars were rather rare. Indeed, apart from those coming from certain creatures, such as transformed werewolves, or from particular curses, they were easily healed. This man must have had a singular past to bear such a mark.
"Good evening Harry! What a surprise to see you! You've changed so much! You're almost unrecognisable from the little boy who accompanied his uncle to my manor for the first time," the man said, placing his hands on the young man's shoulders. "What strength! And look, we're almost the same height!" he exclaimed, laughing.
Harry laughed with him, satisfied that the progress of his physical training was noticed, before turning his head towards the scarred man. The latter gave him a polite smile, but which, for some unexplained reason, sent a shiver down his spine.
"With all that, you should be able to take care of my daughter in the future," the man murmured, making Harry blush. The boy raised his hands, shaking them in front of the Lord with an embarrassed smile.
"I-I... W-W-Well..." he stammered, before being interrupted by a smiling Alexander.
"We won't keep you any longer, Harry. This gentleman has an important message for me from your uncle. Do you know of a place where we could speak in private?"
Harry nodded slightly, questioning Alexander with a piercing gaze to verify his sincerity with a slight Legilimency probe. The latter nodded, making Harry sigh at the blind trust the father of the girl he loved had in his uncle.
"The room at the end of the corridor," he said, pointing at it. "It's an old abandoned office. You should be safe there."
The two men thanked him and set off, under the curious gaze of the young boy.
A few minutes later:
"That's what happened," Harry explained, prudently omitting the comment about Daphne. He then watched his uncle, analysing his expression to see his reaction.
"I understand. In that case, I need to make sure my messenger has delivered the message correctly," the time traveller said, saluting Harry.
The young man hated it when his uncle spoke enigmatically. It reminded him of Dumbledore and his long, wise speeches. But, once again, he might be making wrong assumptions, and his uncle really wanted to accomplish what he had just announced.
"Resume your training in peace. After all, if you really want to learn this spell, you'll have to exercise your mind," he said, before turning around one last time and leaving the room, heading towards the abandoned office where the other two wizards were.
Harry stared at the door for a few moments, lost in thought, before shaking his head. "I can't afford to get distracted. Back to training!" he said to himself, before ordering the room to restart level seven.
"This time, I'll win!"