Lost Eyes of Magic: Chapter 19
Lights of Connection
Harry woke the next morning with a groan, his body feeling heavier than it had the night before. He shifted slightly in bed, only to wince as a dull ache radiated from his joints. His muscles twitched involuntarily, a reminder of the strain he'd been putting himself under.
By now, he was no stranger to the effects of the rituals. After the third one, he had started to notice the toll they were taking. A lingering fatigue had settled into his bones, and every step forward felt like dragging himself uphill. This morning was no exception.
His limbs felt stiff, as though they were resisting his every movement, and the exhaustion seemed to pulse through his body like a second heartbeat. He clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to shake off the sensation, but the ache persisted—a constant reminder of the price he was paying for his ambitions.
Harry exhaled slowly, steeling himself. There was no turning back now. He had accepted this pain as part of the process, and he wasn't about to let it stop him.
Pushing down the aches that coursed through his body, Harry swung his feet to the side of the bed, letting them land on the cold, hard floor. The chill sent a sharp contrast against the dull throb of his joints, grounding him. Slowly, he twisted his head from side to side, trying to shake off the stiffness lingering from days of relentless rituals.
His movement stilled when his gaze—or rather, his awareness—landed on the familiar presence of Stheno. Coiled snugly beneath the warmth of his blankets, she had tucked herself into the coziest spot on the bed, her smooth, scaled body rising and falling with each slow breath. A faint, sleepy hum resonated in his mind, Stheno's way of acknowledging him without fully waking.
Harry couldn't help but let a faint smile tug at his lips. "Enjoying the warm spot, are we?" he murmured under his breath, his voice tinged with amusement.
Harry couldn't see Stheno—not truly. But, just like the day before with Dumbledore, there was a faint light where he knew her to be. It was much smaller than Dumbledore's, softer and less intense, but distinct nonetheless.
The light had its own unique hue, one that made him pause. It wasn't a color he could name—how could he, when he had no frame of reference? How do you describe a color you've never seen before? It felt impossible, like trying to explain sound to someone who had never heard a noise in their life.
Still, the light pulsed gently, as if in time with Stheno's breaths, giving Harry a sense of her presence that went beyond sight. It wasn't just a light—it was her, her essence, her magic. And for the first time, Harry truly realized what it meant to perceive without seeing.
Tears pricked at the edges of Harry's eyes, an emotion too raw and overwhelming threatening to bubble over. He quickly choked it down, his throat tightening as he forced himself to breathe evenly. He had never dared to imagine a day when he could see—when the impenetrable darkness that had defined his life would give way to even the faintest hint of light.
Granted, it wasn't sight as others experienced it. He couldn't see the world in vivid detail, couldn't take in faces or landscapes. What he could see was faint and limited—a light, glowing softly, visible only when a person or creature possessed a magical core.
But it was something.
And that something was significant. To him, it was everything.
Perhaps, Harry thought, the more rituals he performed, the stronger this sense would become. Maybe, one day, the faint lights would sharpen, grow clearer, allow him to perceive the world in ways he'd never thought possible.
It was a fragile hope, one he clung to tightly. This small glimpse of something he'd never had before was enough to spark that hope, enough to make him believe that the rituals, the pain, the sacrifice—they might all be worth it.
He could only hope.
Stheno stirred, sensing that Harry was awake. With a slow, deliberate motion, she uncoiled herself from beneath the blankets and slithered out into the open, her smooth scales whispering faintly against the fabric.
Harry, meanwhile, pushed himself to his feet, grimacing as his knees popped audibly, the motion sending a sharp jolt of pain through his legs. He sucked in a breath, willing himself to ignore it. The ache was becoming more familiar now, a constant companion that came with the toll of the rituals.
But still, it gnawed at him. He was only seven rituals in, and it was already this bad? He flexed his stiff fingers absently, trying to loosen the tension in his joints. The thought of what awaited him as he continued his journey sent an uneasy chill down his spine. Would he even be able to move by the end?
Slipping on his robes, Harry extended his hand toward the bed, watching as the faint light of Stheno shifted and slithered closer. He felt her smooth, cool scales glide against his skin as she crawled up his hand, her movements careful and deliberate, before coiling snugly around his wrist.
Despite it being two years since she had first become his familiar, Stheno hadn't grown much. She was still small, her petite form light against his arm. Harry supposed she was just a small snake, though her presence always felt so much larger—a quiet strength and wisdom that belied her size.
"Morning, Stheno," Harry murmured, his voice soft. A gentle hum of acknowledgment echoed in his mind, and he couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at his lips. Having her with him, especially on mornings like this, was more comforting than he could express.
As Harry stepped into the Great Hall for breakfast, he stopped abruptly, his breath catching in his throat. He had to clamp his lips shut to hold back a gasp.
What he saw—or sensed—was nothing short of overwhelming. Hundreds of faintly glowing lights filled the vast room, each one distinct in size, shape, and hue. The sheer variety of them struck him, as though he had walked into a galaxy of stars, each magical core shining with its own unique brilliance.
Some lights pulsed gently, while others burned more brightly, their shapes diffusing or sharpening depending on their proximity. No two were the same, and Harry found himself mesmerized by the subtle differences between them. It was as if each light carried the essence of its owner, a magical fingerprint unique to the person it belonged to.
The thought struck him—if he focused enough, he could memorize these lights, match them to the individuals they belonged to. It was as though, for the first time, he had a way to recognize people beyond their voices or presence.
Harry swallowed hard, his fingers brushing against Stheno for reassurance. This was a world he had never expected to perceive, and yet here it was, laid out before him like a living tapestry of magic. The significance of it wasn't lost on him, and he knew this gift—this new ability—was going to change everything.
Once again, Stheno guided Harry through the bustling Great Hall, her silent instructions steadying him amidst the clamor of students enjoying breakfast. She led him to where Daphne and Hermione sat, chatting softly at the table.
As Harry approached, Daphne glanced up, her usual composed expression giving way to a flicker of curiosity. Something was different about him.
Harry's head was moving, turning slightly from side to side as he walked. Every so often, it would pause, lingering as if focusing on something unseen before shifting again. Daphne frowned slightly, her mind racing to make sense of the sight. If she didn't know better, she would think he was… looking at something—or someone.
"Harry," Daphne called out, her voice sharp with curiosity.
His head instantly snapped toward her, the movement quick and precise. Daphne froze, her breath catching as a strange sensation washed over her. It wasn't just that he turned in her direction—it was the way he did it, with such certainty, as if he could actually see her.
For a moment, she felt the weight of his gaze, not just a glance in her direction but something more focused, more deliberate. It wasn't possible—she knew that. Harry was blind, had been since she'd known him. But in this moment, it didn't feel that way.
He was looking at her.
Harry's attention locked onto the faint light that pulsed within her. Her magical core glowed brightly, standing out even among the many lights that filled the Great Hall. It wasn't just its brightness that struck him, though—it was its beauty.
Maybe it was his personal bias, the affection he already held for her, but her core seemed… captivating. It shimmered and shifted with subtle hues he couldn't name, each movement drawing his attention like a flame in the dark. He couldn't help but feel pulled toward it, as though it resonated with something deep within him.
He let himself memorize every detail—the way it pulsed gently, steady and unwavering, and the unique glow that made it stand out. In this moment, Harry understood something he hadn't fully realized before: this new sight wasn't just a gift; it was a connection. And Daphne's core felt like the most brilliant part of it.
A bright smile spread across Harry's face as he turned his attention fully to Daphne. "Good morning," he said warmly, his tone carrying a lightness that seemed to disarm any unease. He moved with practiced ease, taking the seat next to her.
Just like yesterday, his hand found its way to her thigh as he settled in. This time, however, Daphne didn't jolt in surprise. Instead, she glanced at him briefly, her expression unreadable, though the faintest blush colored her cheeks.
Harry didn't linger, his hand resting there only for a moment before pulling away, but the contact was deliberate, unspoken in its meaning. He focused on the warmth of her magical core, the unique light he had just committed to memory, and felt a small sense of satisfaction.
Daphne cleared her throat softly, reaching for her tea as though nothing had happened, but her mind lingered on the familiarity of his actions—and the way they made her feel.
Daphne studied Harry for a moment, her sharp Slytherin instincts picking up on something she couldn't quite place. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing just enough to show she was curious.
"You seem… different this morning," she said finally, her voice casual but edged with intrigue.
Harry raised an eyebrow, his tone light as he asked, "Different? How so?"
Daphne shrugged her shoulders, taking a sip of her tea before setting the cup back down. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "It's just a feeling, really, so maybe I'm wrong. But…" She paused, hesitating for a moment before continuing. "I could've sworn it looked like you were looking around the Great Hall just a second ago."
Harry stiffened slightly, his hand moving to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous habit he couldn't quite suppress. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice quieter but steady. "Well… as a matter of fact, I was."
Daphne and Hermione's eyes widened in unison, their shock painted clearly across their faces. They exchanged a quick, incredulous glance before turning their attention back to Harry.
"You were?" Daphne said, her voice tinged with disbelief as she leaned slightly closer. Without waiting for a response, she raised her hand in front of his face, swishing it back and forth in an exaggerated motion to test his reaction.
Harry didn't even flinch. His eyes remained as unresponsive as ever, following no movement, the same familiar stillness that had always marked his blindness.
"Nothing," Daphne muttered, lowering her hand as she furrowed her brow.
Daphne frowned, her confusion evident as she leaned closer, her voice dropping slightly. "What do you mean you were looking around, Harry? You can't see. How could you possibly…" She trailed off, her words hanging in the air.
Harry chuckled awkwardly, running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Yeah, I figured that might be confusing," he admitted, his tone light but strained. "Look, I'd gladly explain it to you—both of you—but not here." He gestured vaguely toward the bustling Great Hall around them. "Too many ears."
Daphne and Hermione exchanged another glance, their curiosity growing with every passing second.
"It's also… not an easy explanation," Harry continued, his voice softening. "And honestly, there's a lot I can't tell you about it. Some of it is just… complicated, and other parts I don't fully understand myself yet."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully, her expression softening as she glanced at Daphne before turning back to Harry. "We remember what you told us," she said quietly, her voice laced with understanding. "That's why we haven't brought up the fact that you've been arriving late for breakfast every day since the start of the year."
Harry blinked in surprise, his lips curving into a faint, sheepish smile. "You noticed that, huh?"
Daphne raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing but curious. "Of course we noticed. You're not exactly subtle, Harry."
Hermione leaned forward slightly, her gaze steady but kind. "We figured you were doing something important," she added. "So we didn't pry. But this… whatever this is, it's clearly significant. Just promise you'll explain when you're ready."
Harry nodded, a flicker of gratitude crossing his face. "I will," he said earnestly. "Thanks for understanding."
(Scene Break)
Later that day, Harry, Daphne, and Hermione sat in a quiet, secluded corner of the library. The hushed ambiance was perfect for their discussion, muffling the distant rustle of pages and murmurs of other students scattered across the room.
Spread out on the table before them were several textbooks, parchment filled with intricate diagrams, and quills poised at the ready. The topic of the moment was their Runes and Arithmancy coursework, and Harry, as usual, was effortlessly guiding the conversation.
"Alright," Harry began, his tone steady and precise as he gestured toward the parchment in front of him. "The matrix doesn't need to be as complex as the textbook makes it seem. If you start by anchoring your core runes here and here"—he tapped the parchment, his touch exact—"you can cut out a lot of the redundant pathways."
Daphne leaned forward, her brow furrowed in concentration as she traced the symbols with her finger. "So, you're saying if we simplify the matrix at the start, it reduces the energy drain?"
"Exactly," Harry replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You're cutting out unnecessary connections while maintaining stability. It's quicker to set up and uses less magic overall."
Hermione, who had been quietly scribbling notes, looked up with a mixture of admiration and mild exasperation. "You make it sound so simple," she muttered, shaking her head. "I've been wrestling with this for days, and you just breeze through it."
Harry chuckled softly. "It's not as hard as it looks, Hermione. Once you start thinking of the matrix as a whole rather than focusing on every single rune individually, it just… clicks."
Daphne glanced between Harry and Hermione, a smirk playing on her lips. "Well, Granger, looks like Potter's one-upped you again. How's it feel?"
Hermione shot Daphne a mock glare but couldn't suppress a smile. "I'll admit, it's impressive," she said, her tone lighter now. "But don't let it go to your head, Harry."
Harry shrugged, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Too late," he teased, his smile widening as Daphne rolled her eyes, clearly amused. The quiet moment of camaraderie felt like a welcome reprieve from the intensity of the year so far.
Daphne leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she fixed Harry with a pointed look. "Alright, Potter," she said, her tone sharp but playful. "Now that the three of us are alone and out of earshot of everyone, do you care to enlighten us about what was going on this morning?"
Harry raised an eyebrow, though the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed his amusement. "What do you mean?" he asked, feigning innocence.
Daphne rolled her eyes, leaning forward as she rested her elbows on the table. "Oh, don't play dumb. You were looking around the Great Hall, Harry. Actually looking," she emphasized. "You've kept us wondering all day long, and now I'm ready for answers."
Hermione nodded in agreement, her curiosity clearly matching Daphne's. "She's right, Harry. You can't just say you'll explain later and then leave us hanging like that."
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair as he glanced between the two of them. "Alright, alright," he relented, his voice dropping slightly as he leaned in. "But you have to promise to keep this between us."
Daphne smirked, sitting back and crossing her arms. "You have my word."
Hermione nodded earnestly. "Of course, Harry."
Harry nodded, leaning slightly forward. "Of course," he said, his voice steady. "Since this morning, I've been able to see magical cores."
Hermione couldn't contain her reaction—her gasp was sharp and immediate, cutting through the quiet of the library. "You can what?" she repeated, her voice incredulous, her eyes wide as she stared at him. "Harry, how is that even possible?"
Harry scratched the back of his neck, feigning nonchalance despite the tension bubbling inside him. "It's… complicated," he admitted, carefully avoiding giving away too much. "I'm not entirely sure how myself. All I know is that I woke up this morning, and I could see them—these faint lights that seem to match where a person's magical core would be."
Hermione shook her head, her mind clearly racing. "But magical cores are… Harry, people don't just see magical cores. That kind of perception is… I don't even know if it's been documented before."
Daphne, who had been quietly observing, crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, a skeptical eyebrow raised. "So let me get this straight," she said slowly. "You're telling us that you can actually see magical cores? Right now?"
Harry nodded. "Right now," he confirmed. "They're all different—different sizes, colors, even the way they feel is unique. It's faint, but it's there."
Hermione leaned forward, her quill forgotten in her hand as her curiosity overtook her skepticism. "This is extraordinary," she said, her tone a mix of awe and disbelief. "You've gone beyond magical theory—Harry, this could be groundbreaking."
Harry smirked faintly, though he remained cautious. "Yeah, well," he said lightly, "it's certainly been… interesting." He left it at that, unwilling to reveal the full truth, even to his closest friends.
Daphne narrowed her eyes slightly, leaning forward with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "Does this have something to do with what you're doing?" she asked pointedly. "The thing you won't talk about? You can't say anything, can you?"
Harry's expression turned serious as he looked at her, his tone firm but not unkind. "Daphne," he said quietly, "you can't ask me questions like that."
Her brow furrowed, and she opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a hand to stop her.
"If I say yes," he continued, his voice low and steady, "then you're conspiring with me. And I won't let that happen." He glanced at Hermione briefly, making sure she understood as well. "You just have to trust me on this. I can see them, and I can't tell you how."
Daphne studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she leaned back, crossing her arms with a frustrated huff. "Fine," she said, though her tone made it clear she wasn't entirely satisfied.
Hermione, though still visibly curious, nodded slowly. "Alright, Harry. We trust you," she said softly. "But you're not exactly making this easy."
Harry let out a small, humorless chuckle. "It's not easy for me either," he admitted. "But it's better this way."
Harry's expression hardened slightly, his tone firm as he spoke. "No more questions about what I'm doing," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.
He glanced between Daphne and Hermione, his gaze steady. "You're just two people who might have suspicions—nothing more. Not enough to see reason to report, not enough to get yourselves involved. That's how it is, and that's how it will be."
He leaned back slightly, exhaling slowly as he ran a hand through his hair. "It's how it has to be," he finished, his tone softening just enough to show he wasn't angry, just resolute.
Daphne and Hermione exchanged a glance, their expressions conflicted. While neither seemed happy with his response, they both understood the finality in his words.
"Fine," Daphne said eventually, her voice clipped, though the concern in her eyes betrayed her frustration.
Hermione nodded reluctantly, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her parchment. "Alright, Harry," she said quietly. "But… you know we're here if you ever need us. For anything."
Harry gave a small, appreciative smile, though his resolve didn't waver. "I know," he said simply.
Harry cleared his throat, shaking off the tension in the air. "Alright," he said, his tone lighter now. "Let's switch topics. I've actually been dying to talk about what I've been seeing."
Daphne raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued again, while Hermione leaned forward slightly, her quill poised.
"It's the magical cores," Harry began, his voice carrying a mix of awe and fascination. "Each one is unique, almost like a fingerprint. They vary in size, brightness, and even the way they pulse. But even though every core is different, there are some that stand out more than others."
He paused, a small smile playing on his lips as he continued. "Take Dumbledore's, for example. It's… remarkable. If I were to draw a comparison, think of the stars in the night sky. They all shine brightly, but with enough knowledge, you can pick out specific ones. Dumbledore's core? That would be the North Star. Brighter, bigger, and unmistakably different from the rest. It's a guiding light—easily noticeable even among so many others."
Hermione's eyes widened as she absorbed his description, her quill scribbling furiously across her parchment. "That's incredible," she murmured. "So, it's not just that you can see them—you can also identify and compare them?"
Harry nodded. "Exactly. It's like… I can feel their presence just as much as I can see them. Dumbledore's is so distinct it practically radiates authority and wisdom."
Daphne smirked slightly, resting her chin on her hand as she studied him. "So, let me guess," she said, her tone teasing. "What about mine? What's so distinct about my magical core, Potter?"
Harry's smile softened, but he left the question hanging for a moment, letting the conversation naturally shift focus again.
Harry's expression softened, and a small, fond smile tugged at his lips. "Daphne's core," he began, his tone carrying a quiet warmth, "is the most unique of them all."
Daphne blinked, caught off guard by the tenderness in his voice, her teasing demeanor faltering slightly. "Oh?" she asked, her voice softer now, curiosity replacing her usual sharpness.
Harry nodded, tilting his head slightly as he seemed to consider his words carefully. "It's not the way it looks that makes it unique," he explained, his voice low but steady. "It's the way it feels. It feels warm, comfortable—like sitting by a fire on a cold night. When I focus on it, it's like… it calls to me."
His hand tightened slightly on the edge of the table, as though grounding himself. "I can't help it. Every time I focus on your core, I find myself unmistakably… enraptured by it. It's like it resonates with my own, like they're in sync somehow. And when that happens…"
He paused, his expression turning introspective. "It feels like I've found the missing piece of my life—something I didn't even know was missing in the first place."
The room seemed to grow quieter, the weight of his words settling over the three of them. Daphne's cheeks turned faintly pink, and for a moment, she didn't know what to say. Hermione looked between them, her quill poised but momentarily forgotten as she took in the scene.
Daphne finally cleared her throat, her voice quieter than usual. "That's… quite the description, Harry," she said, her usual composure faltering slightly.
Harry just shrugged, offering her a faint but genuine smile. "It's the truth," he said simply. "I don't know why, but that's how it feels."
Hermione cleared her throat loudly, breaking the moment. "I hate to interrupt," she said, her voice tinged with exasperation but laced with a teasing edge, "but you do remember I'm still here, right?"
Both Harry and Daphne turned toward her, Harry looking sheepish while Daphne's blush deepened.
"Yes, Hermione," Harry replied, his tone light and amused. "We're well aware of your presence."
Daphne rolled her eyes, quickly recovering her usual composure. "Don't worry, Granger," she said with a smirk. "We haven't forgotten about you."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Good, because I'd hate to be the invisible third wheel here," she quipped, though the faint smile tugging at her lips showed she wasn't entirely serious.
Harry chuckled, the tension easing as he leaned back in his chair. "Not invisible, Hermione," he assured her. "Just… patient."
Hermione huffed playfully and picked up her quill again. "Patient enough," she said, her tone amused. "Now, if we're done with the heart-to-heart, can we move on? I have about a million questions about this magical core sight of yours."
Daphne smirked, leaning slightly toward Hermione. "Oh, come on, Granger. Don't tell me you're not at least a little curious about how your own magical core looks?"
Hermione paused mid-note, her quill hovering over the parchment. Her expression flickered, caught between reluctance and curiosity. Finally, she sighed, setting her quill down and looking at Daphne.
"Well," she admitted, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, "I can't deny that the thought crossed my mind."
Daphne's smirk widened, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Of course it did," she said, her tone teasing but not unkind. "You wouldn't be Hermione Granger if you weren't curious about something as fascinating as this."
Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "Alright, fine," she said, turning to Harry. "What do you see when you look at my core?"
Harry tilted his head slightly, focusing on Hermione for a moment before speaking. "Your core," he began, his tone thoughtful, "is on the smaller side compared to others I've seen. But it shines brightly—really brightly."
Hermione's eyebrows lifted slightly, her curiosity piqued.
"Some cores are jagged, wild, like they're barely being held together," Harry continued, "and others are more… tamed, controlled. Yours is definitely the latter. It feels calm, steady, like it's always in control of itself."
Hermione leaned forward slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Calm and controlled, huh? Well, that's not a bad thing."
Harry smiled back. "Not at all. Actually, whenever I focus on your core, it makes me feel… eager, I guess. Like it's drawing me into that focus, making me want to learn something new, to keep exploring. It's like your core embodies who you are—driven, curious, and always striving for more."
Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly, but she nodded, clearly pleased with his description. "That's… fascinating," she murmured, her voice tinged with awe. "And also a little strange. You can actually feel all of that just by focusing on someone's magical core?"
Harry nodded, leaning back slightly. "Yeah, it's not just seeing them—it's like they resonate, and I can feel what they're projecting. Yours is pretty unique, Hermione."
Daphne smirked, leaning back with her arms crossed. "Pretty spot-on, too," she quipped, shooting Hermione a teasing look. "Driven and curious? That sounds exactly like you, Granger."
Hermione rolled her eyes, though she couldn't hide her smile. "Alright, alright," she said, her tone light. "I'll admit, it's fascinating. But I'm still trying to wrap my head around how you're even able to do this, Harry."
Harry shrugged with a faint smile. "Believe me, so am I."
Daphne tapped her chin thoughtfully, her curiosity unabated. "What about anyone else?" she asked. "Has anyone else's core stood out to you?"
Harry nodded, his expression growing more serious. "Actually, yes," he said. "Neville Longbottom's."
"Longbottom?" Daphne repeated, raising an eyebrow.
Hermione leaned in, her curiosity clearly piqued. "What about Neville's?"
"When I saw Neville's core," Harry began, his voice steady but thoughtful, "it made me pause for a second. His core is… huge. Bigger than anyone else's I've seen so far—even Dumbledore's."
Both Daphne and Hermione's eyes widened, their expressions shifting to disbelief.
"But," Harry continued, his tone more measured, "it's also the most volatile core I've come across. It's constantly twisting, pulsing erratically, almost like it's struggling to contain itself. There's no steadiness to it—it's wild and chaotic."
Hermione's brows furrowed, her analytical mind already piecing together what Harry was saying. "So you're saying Neville has an enormous amount of magic, but he struggles to control it?"
Harry nodded. "That's exactly what I think. His core reflects it perfectly. It's like there's this vast reservoir of power inside him, but without proper control, it's unstable. And honestly, it tracks with his class performance. His struggles in practical magic make a lot more sense when you realize just how much energy he's working with. Too much magic and not enough control."
Daphne crossed her arms, her expression pensive. "That's… surprising," she admitted. "Longbottom doesn't exactly scream 'raw magical power.'"
"He doesn't," Harry agreed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "But that's what makes it so interesting. If Neville ever learns to control that core of his… well, let's just say he'd be someone to watch out for."
Hermione nodded slowly, her gaze thoughtful. "I always knew Neville had potential," she said softly. "But this? This changes how we should be thinking about him entirely."
Daphne smirked faintly, glancing at Harry. "Well, Potter, I'll give you this—you've definitely opened up a whole new way of looking at people."
Harry chuckled. "Trust me, no one's more surprised by all of this than me."
Hermione's eyes lit up, her mind clearly racing as she leaned closer. "Harry," she began, her voice brimming with excitement, "do you realize what this means? This ability of yours—it opens so many doors. So many possibilities."
Harry raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
"You can't see like everyone else does," Hermione explained, her tone filled with awe. "But that doesn't matter, because you see in your own way. You don't just see what's on the outside—you see what's inside a person. Their magical core, their essence."
Daphne blinked, her expression shifting as she began to grasp the depth of what Hermione was saying.
"And it's not just seeing their core," Hermione continued, her words spilling out as her excitement grew. "Judging from what you've said—how you feel when you focus on one—it's like you can sense their character, their motives, even their feelings. It's astonishing, Harry. You're not just seeing magic; you're understanding people on a level most of us never could."
Harry hesitated, her words sinking in. He hadn't thought of it in that way before, hadn't truly considered the depth of what he was experiencing. "I guess… you're right," he said slowly, his voice quieter now. "It's more than just seeing light. It's like I'm… connected to something deeper when I focus on a core."
Hermione nodded fervently. "Exactly! It's like you have a window into the truth of a person, something that goes beyond what they say or do."
Daphne leaned back, crossing her arms as she regarded Harry thoughtfully. "Granger's got a point," she said, her tone more serious now. "This ability of yours? It's rare. And powerful. If people knew you could do this… well, let's just say you'd have a lot more eyes on you than you already do."
Harry gave a dry chuckle. "Good thing I'm not planning on making a public announcement, then."
Hermione smiled softly, her gaze steady. "Still, Harry," she said, her voice gentle now, "what you have—it's extraordinary."
Daphne leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as a smirk tugged at her lips. "Alright, Potter," she said, her tone playful but edged with curiosity. "That's all very fascinating—my core, Granger's, even Longbottom's. But it leaves one big question still unanswered."
Harry raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
"What about yours?" Daphne asked, her smirk widening. "You've told us what everyone else's core looks or feels like, but what does your own core look like?"
Harry chuckled softly, scratching the back of his head in his usual sheepish manner. "Well, that's the thing," he said with a faint grin. "I can't see my own core."
Both Daphne and Hermione blinked in surprise.
"Wait," Hermione said, tilting her head. "You can see everyone else's core but not your own? Why?"
Harry shrugged, leaning back slightly. "Beats me," he admitted. "I don't think it's something I can turn inward. It's like… my own magic is too familiar, too close. Whatever this ability is, it seems to focus outward, not inward."
Daphne rolled her eyes, though the curiosity didn't leave her expression. "Of course. Leave it to Potter to have some extraordinary gift and still not have all the answers," she teased, though there was no malice in her words.
Hermione, meanwhile, seemed lost in thought. "That's… fascinating," she murmured, her brow furrowed. "Maybe it's because your magic is already attuned to your core in a way that doesn't allow for outside perception. It's self-contained."
Harry chuckled again, shaking his head. "You're already overthinking it, Hermione," he said, though his tone was fond. "But hey, if you ever come up with a way for me to see my own core, let me know. I'd be curious too."
Daphne smirked, sitting back in her chair. "Well, for now, I guess we'll just have to live with the mystery of the Great Harry Potter's core," she said dramatically, earning a laugh from Harry and a chuckle from Hermione.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of lighthearted conversation and laughter, the weight of the day slipping away as they delved deeper into Harry's newfound ability. Daphne leaned in with a sharp wit and probing questions, Hermione's curiosity sparking theories faster than Harry could keep up with. The three of them found themselves trading jokes, ideas, and banter, their voices filling the quiet library corner.
The textbooks and parchments they'd spread across the table lay forgotten, their carefully drawn diagrams and half-finished notes abandoned in favor of the moment. But none of them minded—tomorrow was Saturday, and the weekend stretched before them like a promise of extra time to catch up on their classwork.
For tonight, they let themselves relax, enjoying each other's company for as long as they could. The world outside the library, with all its challenges and expectations, faded into the background. Here, in this small, quiet space, they were just three friends sharing laughter, connection, and the quiet magic of an evening spent together.
(Scene Break)
The next morning, Harry made his way toward the Black Lake, taking the familiar path that led to the tree he and Daphne often claimed as their own. The late morning sun filtered through the crisp autumn air, and though Harry couldn't see it, the warmth on his face and the sound of rustling leaves painted the scene in his mind.
Once again, he had woken up late, his body still protesting against the strain of the rituals. As he neared the lake, the faint, familiar glow of Daphne's magical core came into focus in the distance. It pulsed softly, steady and warm, guiding him like a beacon to their usual spot.
As Harry drew closer, Daphne's smirk widened, her teasing tone cutting through the tranquil air. "Late again, Potter? Honestly, don't you know not to keep a woman waiting? Especially me."
Harry chuckled, tilting his head slightly as if to acknowledge her words. "You're right," he said smoothly, his tone playful. "I'm sorry. I'd never intentionally keep such a pretty woman waiting on me."
Daphne's confident demeanor faltered for a moment, her smirk melting into surprise as a faint blush crept across her cheeks. She quickly looked away, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear in an attempt to compose herself. "You're insufferable," she muttered, though her tone lacked any real bite.
Harry grinned, satisfied that his teasing had the desired effect. "But you're still here," he quipped as he lowered himself onto the grass beside her. "So I must be doing something right."
Daphne rolled her eyes, though the blush on her cheeks lingered, giving away more than her words ever could.
"You're such a charmer," Daphne said, her tone dry but softened by the faint smile playing on her lips.
Harry chuckled as he settled down next to her, the cool grass brushing against his fingers. "I try," he replied lightly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of warmth.
As he got comfortable, he reached out and took her hand in his own, his touch deliberate but gentle. Daphne's gaze flicked to their joined hands, her smile faltering slightly as a hint of seriousness replaced her teasing expression.
After a brief pause, Harry spoke, his tone quieter now. "We haven't really gotten a chance to talk," he began, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. "About… this. About us."
Daphne's breath hitched slightly, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she turned to face him fully, her eyes searching his face as he continued.
"What it is," Harry said softly. "What it will be. Or… what we want it to be."
Her expression shifted, the teasing glint in her eyes giving way to something more vulnerable, more open. "You're right," she murmured. "We haven't."
The weight of the moment settled between them, the sounds of the lake and the rustling leaves fading into the background. It was just the two of them now, their connection tangible and unspoken, waiting for words to define it.
Daphne let out a soft sigh, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Yeah, I was kind of waiting on you to bring that up," she admitted, her voice light but carrying an undertone of expectation.
Harry tilted his head toward her, his brow furrowing slightly. "Me? Why do I have to bring it up?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and mild amusement.
Daphne smirked, though her cheeks tinted slightly pink. "Because you're the guy," she said, giving him a pointed look. "The guy is supposed to do that kind of thing, not the girl."
Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Oh, is that how it works?" he teased. "Good to know you're holding me to traditional gender roles, Greengrass."
Daphne rolled her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. "Don't push it, Potter," she shot back, though there was no heat in her words.
Harry chuckled softly, his lips curving into a warm smile. "Fair enough," he murmured. He lifted her hand gently, his touch deliberate as he turned his head slightly, his gaze instinctively finding the place where he knew her eyes would be.
Leaning closer, he pressed his forehead lightly against hers, the closeness drawing the world around them into a quiet stillness. His voice dropped to a soft, intimate tone as he spoke. "Then I'm sorry for being late," he said, the sincerity in his words unmistakable. "But just know this—since the day I met you, I've felt this… unmistakable pull toward you. Like something in the universe was telling me to stay close."
Daphne's breath hitched slightly, her hand tightening in his as his words sank in.
"And every day I've spent with you since then," Harry continued, his voice steady but tinged with emotion, "has been the greatest blessing I've ever received. Even more so than magic."
The silence between them stretched, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was filled with meaning, with the weight of the connection they were finally acknowledging. Daphne's fingers brushed lightly against his, her usual composure melting into something softer, something more vulnerable.
"Harry…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, but it carried all the emotions she couldn't yet put into words.
Harry took a slow breath, his forehead still resting gently against Daphne's, their closeness grounding him in the moment. "You're my longest, and closest friend," he began, his voice soft but steady. "I care for you more than I can even begin to put into words."
His hand moved from hers, resting lightly on her thigh once again, the touch deliberate yet tender. "But let me be clear," he continued, his tone firm now, though the warmth never left his voice. "I have no intentions of being just your friend."
Daphne's breath hitched again, but she didn't pull away. Her gaze, though he couldn't see it, was locked on him, her heartbeat quickening in her chest.
"I remember the day we sat here," Harry said, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he tilted his head toward her slightly. "I told you then that I don't ever want you not to be in my life. And I still feel that way—every bit of it."
He paused, his thumb brushing lightly against her thigh. "But now… it's different. What I hope for now is that those days in the future we were referencing back then aren't just as friends. I hope they're as something more—as lifelong partners."
The weight of his words lingered in the air, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable. Daphne sat frozen for a moment, her mind racing, but her heart told her all she needed to know. Slowly, she reached up, brushing her fingers lightly against his cheek, her expression softening into something unguarded, something rare.
"Harry…" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly but filled with something he didn't need to see to understand.
Daphne let out a soft, shaky breath, her hand still resting lightly against Harry's cheek. "You have no idea," she began, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke, "how long I've waited to hear that, Harry."
Her fingers brushed against his skin, and she smiled faintly, though her voice carried a mixture of relief and raw emotion. "The amount of times I've dreamt about this moment… it's more than I'm willing to admit. I've been so madly in love with you since first year, it's ridiculous."
Harry's breath caught, his grip on her thigh tightening ever so slightly as her words sank in.
"I can't even express how relieved I am right now," she continued, her voice steadying as she gazed at him, even though she knew he couldn't see it. "To finally know that you feel the same way… it's like a weight I've carried for years has finally lifted."
Her confession hung in the air, the vulnerability of her words filling the space between them with an intimacy that made the rest of the world fade away. For a moment, neither of them moved, the depth of their emotions binding them together in a way words alone couldn't.
Harry smiled softly, his forehead pressing gently against hers. "I guess we've both been waiting a long time for this," he murmured, his voice warm and full of quiet affection.
Harry's smile grew as he tilted his head slightly, his breath brushing against Daphne's lips. The air between them grew charged, the tension that had been building for years finally breaking. Without a word, he closed the remaining distance, capturing her lips with his.
Daphne responded instantly, her arms sliding up around his neck as she pulled him closer, her fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss was slow at first, tender and full of emotion, but it quickly deepened, the years of unspoken feelings pouring into the moment.
Harry's hand tightened on her thigh, the other moving to her waist as he pulled her closer to him. Daphne shifted, leaning into him, her confidence melting into the heat of the moment. Her heart raced as their movements became more urgent, their connection undeniable and electrifying.
The world around them disappeared, the rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of the Black Lake fading into nothing as they lost themselves in each other.
For Harry, it was a moment of clarity and fulfillment, as if everything had finally fallen into place. For Daphne, it was the realization of everything she had hoped for, her heart full in a way she had never thought possible.
The kiss lingered, both of them unwilling to break apart, until finally, they pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath.
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