- ANTIQUA MAGIA -
12:04pm - August 10th, 1976 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - Earth - Universe Designation: 1.638.2
Harry stood on the precipice of the Forbidden Forest, his eyes tracing the crumbled outlines of Hogwarts' once-impenetrable wards. The air was still, yet it carried the weight of something broken. An absence where the castle's protective embrace should have been. He closed his eyes, focusing on the remnants of magical energy that clung faintly to the air, like the ghost of a melody. Next to him, Dumbledore was silent, his wand raised and pointed outward as he studied the shattered lattice of enchantments. The faintest traces of magic flickered in the evening light, threads waiting to be retied.
"Raw energy broke them," Harry admitted, his voice thick with regret, the memory of their chaotic arrival fresh in his mind. "My energy. When Rose and I arrived, the collision tore through the wards like parchment," His hand unconsciously tightened into a fist, guilt coursing through him as he glanced back toward the towering silhouette of Hogwarts.
Dumbledore gave a gentle hum, the sound thoughtful and grounding. "Magic this ancient rarely meets its match, Harry. But your presence here - your very essence - transcends what we can measure. Perhaps the wards did not break so much as yield, sensing something far beyond their comprehension,"
Harry scoffed, shaking his head. "Yielding isn't what it felt like. It felt like destruction,"
Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Even destruction, when placed in the hands of a just soul, can create the opportunity for rebirth. Let us not mourn the past, but instead, weave something stronger,"
Together, they began the arduous task of weaving the fabric of the wards anew. Harry extended his hand, raw magical energy pooling in his palm as he traced symbols in the air. The movements felt both familiar and foreign, like using a tool he'd long abandoned. Each thread he cast shimmered with raw power, pulsing faintly with the golden hue of his magic. Dumbledore mirrored his gestures, his spells a tapestry of layered enchantments. Precise, measured, and enduring. Harry could feel the headmaster's magic working alongside his own, steadying it, tempering its volatile nature like a master craftsman smoothing the edges of an uncut gem.
Despite the harmony of their work, Harry's thoughts began to drift, drawn unwillingly into darker memories.
"In the Domus Mortis," Harry began hesitantly, his voice quieter now. "There were no wards. No sanctuaries. Every battle, every breath, was a fight to survive. Wards weren't just useless, they were a liability. A sign of weakness. The other Gladiators would see through them, rip them apart, and then come for the people hiding behind them. You either fought or you didn't live long enough to regret it," His fingers faltered for a moment as he cast another strand of magic into the air. "Each battle stripped you of who you were until only instinct remained. I became something...less,"
Dumbledore's wand paused mid-air, his sharp blue eyes turning to Harry, though he said nothing at first. Then, with a small flourish, he completed his current spell and lowered his wand slightly, allowing Harry's words to settle. "And yet, Harry, you escaped," Dumbledore said, his voice heavy with meaning. "You defied their purpose for you. If there is one thing you must hold onto, it is that your survival was not a defeat...it was a victory,"
Harry's jaw clenched, his eyes still focused on the glowing patterns he and Dumbledore had begun to stitch into the landscape. "At what cost?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What I had to become to leave that place...it doesn't belong here. Not in this world. Sometimes I wonder if bringing it here was a mistake,"
Dumbledore paused, letting the silence stretch between them. The only sound was the faint hum of magic in the air as the wards began to take shape. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. "Perhaps what you became is not what you are, Harry. We are all shaped by our experiences, yes, but they do not define us. We have a choice in whom we decide to be,"
Harry turned to Dumbledore, his expression caught somewhere between scepticism and hope. But before he could respond, the ground beneath their feet gave a faint tremor. Both wizards froze, their gazes snapping to the earth as a pulse of energy rippled upward, faint but unmistakable. The air thickened around them, charged with an ancient power that felt alive and watching.
"Do you feel that?" Dumbledore asked, his voice barely above a murmur.
Harry nodded, his instincts prickling. "It's old...primal. It doesn't belong here," He shifted his stance, every sense attuned to the vibrations that now seemed to echo from deep below. The trembling grew stronger, and with it came a low, resonant hum. A sound not of the earth but of magic.
"It's coming from below," Harry said, his voice tense, his mind racing. He exchanged a sharp glance with Dumbledore. "The Chamber of Secrets,"
Dumbledore's expression darkened as he nodded, his wand rising instinctively. "Then let us see what lies beneath the surface,"
The journey into the Chamber of Secrets brought with it a weight Harry hadn't felt since his second year at Hogwarts. The low hiss of Parseltongue escaped his lips, activating the ancient serpent mechanism. The massive door creaked open, revealing the familiar cavernous chamber with its towering serpent statues and the stagnant scent of time long past. But this time, it felt different. The air was charged with something potent, a vibration so deep that it resonated in Harry's bones. "Do you feel it?" Harry murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes," Dumbledore replied, his tone measured but curious. His eyes scanned the chamber, lingering on the details Harry had missed years ago. Subtle runes etched into the walls, faint traces of warding magic that seemed dormant but not gone. "Something ancient stirs here, beyond the remnants of Tom Riddle's meddling,"
As they walked deeper, their footsteps echoed ominously against the stone. Without warning, the mouth of Salazar Slytherin slid open, revealing the Basilisk held within. Dumbledore's eyes shot to the floor in an instant, his wand flicking upward to create a golden, shimmering shield of magic. Harry reacted just as quickly. Two beams of emerald green energy shot through the chamber, cutting right through the Basilisk's head. The creature collapsed to the stone floor. What had taken him almost ten minutes to do in his second year Harry had accomplished in two seconds.
"The true heart of the chamber is beyond," Dumbledore said, his voice steady as he focused on the glow behind the Basilisk.
Harry's gaze flicked to the hidden doorway that led to a smaller, circular chamber. At its center stood a pedestal, and atop it rested a crystalline artifact, pulsating with a dark, raw energy that Harry instinctively recognized. Harry felt the pull before he saw it. A raw, untamed force that tugged at his very core. It wasn't the dark malevolence of Voldemort's magic or the sharp precision of his own spells. This was primal, alive in a way that magic rarely was. His hands curled into fists, his instincts bristling as if the magic was challenging him.
"I've felt this before," Harry muttered, his voice tight with unease. "It's... feral. Untouched by wands or incantations,"
Dumbledore nodded, his expression contemplative. "This magic predates us, Harry. It predates the structure of spellcraft itself. We must tread carefully,"
"Feral Magic," Harry whispered, his voice trembling with awe and trepidation as he remembered the knowledge he had obtained on this form of magic. He could feel it resonating with the parts of him that were more than human. It thrummed in his chest, an echo of the strength that had been forged in the Domus Mortis. "It's alive,"
"Alive and aware," Dumbledore murmured, his voice a mix of fascination and warning. "Harry, do not -"
But it was too late. The artifact's glow intensified, and the chamber was suddenly filled with a brilliant, blinding light. The moment Harry's fingers grazed the crystalline artifact, it shattered with an earsplitting crack. Fragments of its container disintegrated into glowing motes, swirling around him in a storm of light. Raw Feral Magic surged into Harry's body like a tidal wave, tearing through his defenses. He convulsed violently, his muscles spasming as the energy coursed through every cell, setting his nerves alight.
It wasn't just overwhelming—it was alive. The magic wasn't a tool to be wielded; it was a primal force, clawing and roaring to assert its dominance. Harry's hybrid nature, once a source of unparalleled strength, now felt like a battlefield as the feral force clashed with his Kryptonian and Viltrumite physiology. His enhanced cells rebelled against the intrusion, yet the Feral Magic pressed on, unrelenting, reshaping him from within.
The room was no longer just a chamber—it became a vortex of chaos. Harry's body levitated above the ground, golden veins of energy streaking across his skin like lightning. His screams echoed off the walls, each one carrying the weight of his struggle to contain the magic tearing through him.
"Harry, let it go!" Dumbledore shouted, his voice sharp but edged with worry. He traced stabilizing runes into the air, their shapes glowing briefly before shattering under the sheer pressure radiating from Harry.
The light around Harry intensified, a pulsating gold that burned hotter with each passing second. His eyes blazed with radiant energy, their emerald hue tinged with crimson. A deep, guttural sound escaped him, part roar, part cry of anguish, as his body erupted with destructive power. Tendrils of uncontrolled magic lashed out from him, carving deep gouges into the chamber walls and splitting stone columns like brittle wood.
The ancient magic embedded in the Chamber of Secrets fought back, its serpentine engravings glowing with protective runes in a desperate attempt to contain the onslaught. But even Hogwarts' enchantments began to crack under the strain. Dust and debris rained down from above, and the ground beneath them trembled, threatening to collapse.
Dumbledore stepped forward, his wand a blur as he wove a spell with the precision of a maestro conducting a symphony. His voice carried a deep incantation, ancient and powerful, each word resonating with the authority of a master. A circle of blue light formed around him, its tendrils reaching out to envelop Harry. "Harry, hear me!" Dumbledore's voice boomed, amplified by the magic in his spell. "You must master it, or it will destroy you!"
Harry's body twisted midair, the feral energy roaring back in defiance. His screams fractured into silence as his breath caught, the magic tightening around him like a vice. The chamber walls bent inward, warped by the gravitational pull of the unleashed force.
With a final, resolute flick of his wand, Dumbledore unleashed a stunning spell. A silver arc of magic, intricately woven with layers of binding enchantments. The spell struck Harry directly in the chest, forcing the feral magic to recoil. Harry's body spasmed one last time before going limp. The golden light around him dimmed, retracting into his form, and he fell to the ground in a heap.
The chamber fell silent, the air thick with the residue of spent magic. Dumbledore approached cautiously, his keen eyes scanning Harry's unconscious form. The boy's body was still, save for faint, shallow breaths. Around them, the chamber bore the scars of the battle. Columns reduced to rubble, walls etched with deep, smoking fissures, and the air still vibrating with residual power. Dumbledore knelt beside Harry, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. "Rest now, Harry," he murmured, his voice laced with concern. "The battle within you has only just begun,"
Harry found himself standing in a dark, infinite void. The space stretched endlessly in every direction, an oppressive silence pressing against his senses. Around him, faint echoes of whispers rippled through the emptiness, growing louder with each passing moment. They weren't foreign. They were his own voice, layered in a chaotic symphony of fear, anger, and guilt.
The void shifted, the blackness swirling into thick clouds. Shadows condensed and twisted into shapes, forming twisted visions of places he recognized. He saw the Potter cottage in Godric's Hollow, its walls scorched and its windows shattered. He saw Hogwarts, its towers crumbling into ruin under a blood-red sky. He saw the arena of the Domus Mortis, its audience of twisted figures jeering as he stood alone, battered and broken.
"Why are you here?" his own voice demanded, a darker, colder version of himself. "What makes you think you belong anywhere?"
Harry turned, his fists clenched, his chest heaving with effort, though his body felt weightless. The question wasn't coming from him. It was a reflection. A pale shadow of himself, grinning with sharp teeth and hollow eyes. Before Harry could respond, the void pulsed, and a new figure emerged from the blackness.
A girl no older than fifteen stumbled forward, her form barely illuminated by a faint, silvery glow. She had wild, dark hair and eyes wide with fear. She was draped in rags, her frame frail but defiant. She reached out for Harry, her trembling hand outstretched as though he was her last hope. "Help me!" she cried, her voice raw with desperation. Harry lunged forward, his own hand reaching to meet hers, but before their fingers could touch, the void erupted.
Tendrils of green and purple lightning shot from the darkness, wrapping around the girl's arms, legs, and neck like serpents. She screamed as the energy dragged her back into the swirling mist. Harry roared in frustration, sprinting toward her, but no matter how fast he moved, the distance between them grew. "Wait!" Harry shouted. "I can save you!"
The girl's form dissolved into the mist, leaving behind only the faintest trace of her cry. The tendrils, now free, converged into a new shape. A towering figure that coalesced into Obscurus. The shadowy figure radiated malice. It was a swirling mass of darkness, his body stitched together from jagged lines of green and purple lightning. Where his face should have been, there was only a hollow void, yet Harry could feel his gaze. Mocking, piercing, and heavy with hatred.
"You are nothing but a weapon," Obscurus hissed, his voice layered with a thousand versions of himself, each one colder and more contemptuous than the last. "You think you can escape what you are? A Gladiator. A destroyer. The butcher of worlds,"
Harry flinched as the words cut through him like knives. The Obscurus raised an arm, and the darkness around them shifted again. Scenes from the Domus Mortis materialized like jagged fragments of glass, each one forcing Harry to relive a piece of his darkest moments.
He saw himself in an arena in Sector 5, standing over the broken body of a female variant of himself. Blood coated his hands, her wide, lifeless eyes staring up at him. He saw another memory. His hands clenched at his side as one of the universes he had visited was unceremoniously scrorched to nothing. Screams filled the air, silenced in an instant by his command. He saw Rose, kneeling in chains, her face streaked with tears as she whispered, "Why didn't you save me?"
"Stop!" Harry shouted, clutching his head as the images assaulted him. "That wasn't me! I didn't want any of this!"
"But you did it anyway," Obscurus sneered, his voice vibrating with power. "You exist to destroy, and that is all you will ever be. You cannot change. You are nothing,"
Harry fell to his knees, the weight of his guilt crushing him. His breath came in ragged gasps, and for a moment, he believed the shadow's words. How could he deny them when the proof was right before his eyes?
But then, amidst the chaos, faint voices called out to him. They were soft at first, barely audible, but they grew louder, steadier, until they drowned out Obscurus's accusations. Harry recognized them. Rose's voice, trembling but determined. Dumbledore's calm wisdom. Fleamont and Euphemia's unwavering love. Even Sirius's roguish laugh cut through the darkness.
"Harry," Rose's voice echoed, clear and resolute. "You're stronger than this. We didn't escape them just to fall apart now,"
"You have a choice," Dumbledore's voice added, steady and reassuring. "You can forge your own path. Do not let the darkness decide for you,"
Harry lifted his head, his eyes blazing with a golden light. The void trembled as his will solidified. He rose to his feet, staring down Obscurus, whose form flickered under his defiance. "I am not your pawn," Harry growled, his voice steady and unyielding. "I am not their weapon. I am more than what they made me,"
Obscurus howled, his form unraveling as Harry's light pushed it back. The shadow lashed out with tendrils of lightning, but Harry caught them in his hands, snapping them apart as if they were nothing. With a final roar, he surged forward, plunging his hands into the shadow's core. Light immediately erupted from within, consuming the darkness entirely. As the void shattered around him, Harry's consciousness began to stir. The battlefield of his mind dissolved, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the faint murmur of voices around him.
10:24am - August 24th, 1976 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - Earth - Universe Designation: 1.638.2
Fourteen days had passed in the physical world, though Harry had no sense of time. His body fought against the remnants of Feral Magic coursing through his veins, burning with an intensity that should have destroyed him. But inside his mind, he had made a choice. As his eyes fluttered open, golden light still danced faintly across his irises. The infirmary was quiet, bathed in soft sunlight filtering through the windows. Rose sat at his bedside, her head resting against the mattress, fast asleep. Dumbledore stood nearby, his expression unreadable.
Harry took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling steadily for the first time in weeks. He felt different. Lighter, perhaps, but also stronger. He had won, not just against Obscurus, but against the part of himself that had doubted his worth. Harry shifted slightly, his limbs feeling heavy as though they were fighting against invisible chains. Rose stirred at the movement, her eyes snapping open. Relief flooded her face as she sat up abruptly, clutching his hand.
"Harry!" she whispered, her voice thick with exhaustion and emotion. "You're awake. I thought..." She trailed off, her words catching in her throat.
"I'm here," Harry said softly, his voice raspy but steady. He squeezed her hand weakly. "I'm not going anywhere,"
Before she could reply, Dumbledore approached, his movements slow and deliberate. He peered down at Harry, his sharp gaze taking in every detail. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, with a faint smile, Dumbledore said, "You have returned to us, Harry. Though I suspect not entirely as you were before,"
Harry blinked, the weight of Dumbledore's words settling over him. The memory of the Feral Magic coursing through him, the struggle against Obscurus, and the overwhelming power that had nearly consumed him. It all came flooding back. He flexed his fingers, feeling the faint hum of energy lingering beneath his skin, a reminder of what had been unleashed. "What happened?" Harry asked, his voice low. "The Feral Magic...it felt alive. Like it was trying to take control,"
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Feral Magic is not merely a force, Harry. It is raw, untamed, and ancient beyond comprehension. It sought to dominate you, to become a part of your essence. Few could have survived such an encounter, let alone subdued it. Yet here you are."
Harry exhaled shakily. "It didn't feel subdued. It felt...changed. Like it's still inside me, waiting,"
Rose leaned forward, her expression worried. "Can it hurt you? Or anyone else?"
"I don't think so," Harry replied after a moment. "Not unless I let it. But I need to understand it before it becomes a liability,"
Dumbledore regarded him thoughtfully. "Then perhaps we must look deeper. The Feral Magic has tied itself to you, Harry, and in doing so, it has altered not only your power but the connection you now hold to this castle,"
Harry frowned. "The wards," He remembered the surge of magic that had erupted from him as he awoke. "What happened to them?"
Dumbledore's faint smile returned, this time with a glimmer of pride. "They are stronger than ever. Your magic has bonded with the wards, Harry. They are now an extension of you, and through them, Hogwarts is more protected than it has ever been,"
The revelation hit Harry like a bolt of lightning. He wasn't just tied to the wards. He was the wards. He could feel them now, faint but present, like a second heartbeat. Every wall, every corridor, every enchanted barrier. It was all connected to him.
"I can control them," Harry realized aloud.
Dumbledore inclined his head. "A remarkable gift, but one that must be handled with care. You are now a guardian of Hogwarts in ways no one has been since its Founders,"
Rose squeezed his hand again. "You'll figure it out. You always do,"
Before Harry could fully process his newfound connection, the infirmary doors burst open with an audible crash. Orion and Walburga Black strode in, their faces contorted with fury. Behind them, a nervous Madam Pomfrey scurried, clearly unhappy about the intrusion.
"Who gave you the right, Potter?" Orion bellowed, his voice sharp and commanding. "To meddle in the affairs of the House of Black?"
Walburga sneered, her cold eyes fixed on Harry as she jabbed a finger in his direction. "You've cut us off from our vaults! Do you think you can usurp us so easily? The House of Black is not a toy for you to play with, boy!"
Harry sat up straighter, his golden eyes flashing momentarily as he met Walburga's glare. "I didn't take the Black name to indulge your greed," he said coldly, his voice carrying an authority that silenced the room. "I took it to restore honor to a family that you've turned into a disgrace,"
Orion stepped forward, his jaw clenched. "You have no right-"
"I have every right," Harry interrupted, his tone unyielding. "As the Lord of House Black, I hold the keys to its future. And that future doesn't include you squandering its wealth and influence on petty power games,"
Walburga's face twisted in rage. "You insolent child-"
Harry swung his legs over the bed - standing up for the first time since the incident in the Chamber - his height and presence silencing her instantly. Though his body still ached from the Feral Magic, he channeled his inner strength, his voice ringing with finality. "If you continue to defy me, I'll do more than cut you off from the vaults. I'll remove you from the family altogether. The House of Black doesn't need you, and neither do I,"
For a moment, the Blacks were silent, their fury palpable. But before either could respond, the door opened again, and Fleamont and Euphemia Potter entered, flanked by Rose, James, and Sirius. The sight of Sirius caused Walburga's expression to twist further into hatred.
"Leave," Sirius said, stepping forward, his tone venomous. "You're not welcome here," Walburga's glare burned into her son, but she turned on her heel, her robes swirling as she stormed out, Orion following closely behind. The infirmary fell silent once more.
As the doors closed, the Potters gathered around Harry's bed, their expressions a mix of concern and relief. Sirius clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, his trademark grin returning. "You handled that better than I ever could've. Remind me never to cross you,"
Harry chuckled weakly. "You'd probably enjoy it too much,"
Rose leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You should rest. Whatever that Feral Magic did to you, you'll need time to figure it out,"
"I will," Harry promised, looking around at the people who had become his family. "But right now, I'm just glad to be here. With all of you,"
2:34am - August 25th, 1976 - Kamar-Taj - Earth - Universe Designation: 1.616.1
The sanctum of Kamar-Taj was unusually tense, the soft hum of mystical energy competing with the faint whispers emanating from the projection of the Codex Infernum. Its presence was a discordant note in the otherwise serene space, a reminder of powers that could not be controlled, only survived. The Ancient One sat at the head of the chamber, her posture regal yet calm. Beside her, Wong stood silently, his arms crossed, his usual pragmatism replaced with visible unease. At the far end of the room, Baron Mordo leaned against the shadowed wall, his sharp eyes fixed on the Codex with equal parts fascination and distrust.
John Constantine, as irreverent as ever, struck a match against the pedestal and lit another cigarette. "You lot are awfully uptight for people who supposedly mastered their inner zen," he said, exhaling a curl of smoke toward the ceiling. "It's a book. A dangerous one, sure, but not the bloody end of the world,"
Mordo stepped out of the shadows, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "It is far more than a book, Constantine. The Codex Infernum is a nexus of chaos, a conduit to powers that defy the laws of magic and reality itself. If left unchecked, it will not simply corrupt the wielder. It will unmake them,"
Constantine rolled his eyes, his tone flippant. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard all the apocalyptic warnings before. But Harry's no pushover. The kid's already faced more horrors than most of us combined,"
Wong frowned, stepping closer to the pedestal. "And yet that is precisely the concern," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Harry Potter has survived because of his strength, yes, but also because of his humanity. The Codex will not attack his body or his magic. It will attack his soul,"
The Ancient One finally spoke, her tone carrying the weight of centuries of wisdom. "Constantine, you have delivered a weapon of great power into the hands of a young man already burdened by unimaginable forces. The Codex is not an ally. It is a predator. It will seduce him with answers to his greatest struggles, but those answers will come at a cost he cannot yet comprehend,"
Constantine leaned against the pedestal, his face darkening. "You think I don't know that? I've dealt with the Codex. I've felt its pull. But I also know Harry. He's got a moral compass that could shame most saints. And he's got people around him to keep him grounded,"
Mordo scoffed, his skepticism evident. "You place a great deal of faith in a boy who has barely stepped out of one war only to find himself thrust into another. The Codex does not require years to consume its wielder. It only needs a moment of doubt, a single slip,"
The Ancient One nodded in agreement, her expression grave. "Harry Potter's strength is undeniable, but his connection to the Feral Magic makes him vulnerable. The Codex has already begun to bind itself to him, amplifying his power while embedding itself in his essence. As the connection deepens, it will test him. Not just his resolve, but the very core of who he is,"
2:39am - August 25th, 1976 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - Earth - Universe Designation: 1.616.1
Back in the sanctity of Hogwarts, the Codex Infernum rested within Harry's enchanted satchel. It was an ever-present weight, not just in the physical sense but in his mind. Even as he moved about the castle, overseeing repairs to the wards or planning defenses with Dumbledore and Rose, he could feel the Codex's whispers at the edge of his thoughts. It called to him, not with words but with feelings. Hints of clarity when the path forward seemed uncertain, flashes of insight that felt almost too convenient. He had opened its pages only a handful of times, but each spell he cast from it left a mark, a faint ache in his magic as though the Codex was demanding something in return.
Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room, the Codex open before him on the table. Its runes shifted across the pages, glowing faintly with crimson light. The book seemed alive, its energy pulsing in time with his own heartbeat. "You're going to wear yourself out," Rose said, stepping into the room and folding her arms. "That thing's dangerous, Harry. You know that,"
"I know," Harry replied, not looking up. His voice was tired but resolute. "But it's the only thing that's made sense of the Feral Magic. It's...connected to it, somehow. It's like the Codex is part of whatever woke up in the Chamber,"
Rose sat across from him, her gaze flicking to the Codex with thinly veiled unease. "And what happens when it takes more than it gives? When it starts whispering things you can't ignore?"
"It already has," Harry admitted, closing the book and leaning back in his chair. "It's not just a tool, Rose. It's...alive. And it wants something from me. But right now, it's helping,"
Rose reached out, resting a hand on his arm. "Just don't let it pull you under, Harry. You've already been through enough,"
2:41am - August 25th, 1976 - Kamar-Taj - Earth - Universe Designation: 1.616.1
Back at Kamar-Taj, the debate grew more heated.
"The Codex is a necessary risk," Constantine argued, slamming his hand on the pedestal for emphasis. "You've seen what Harry's up against. Voldemort was bad enough, but the Domus Mortis? They make your average dark wizard look like a bloody Cub Scout. Harry needs every advantage he can get,"
"And yet -" Mordo countered, stepping closer, "- you fail to see that the Codex is not an advantage. It is a trap. It will convince him that the ends justify the means, that power alone can solve his problems. And when he falls, he will not simply lose himself. He will unleash the chaos within that book upon all of us,"
Constantine lit another cigarette, his expression dark. "I trust Harry to do what needs to be done,"
The Ancient One stepped between them, her calm demeanor a sharp contrast to their escalating tension. "This is not a matter of trust, Constantine. It is a matter of preparation. Harry Potter will face trials that no one else can face in his place. If he succumbs to the Codex, it will not simply be his burden to bear. The ripple effects will spread across the multiverse,"
Wong, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "Then we must guide him. If the Codex is already bound to him, we cannot undo what has been done. But we can help him understand its dangers. If he is to succeed, he must learn to wield the Codex without being consumed by it,"
Mordo scoffed. "A dangerous gamble. But I see no alternative,"
The Ancient One turned to Constantine, her gaze piercing. "You have set this path in motion, John. It is now your responsibility to ensure Harry does not fall,"
Constantine gave a humorless chuckle. "Yeah, because babysitting a teenage wizard with a book of ultimate chaos is exactly how I wanted to spend my time. Don't worry, love. I'll make sure the kid pulls through,"
But even as he spoke, a flicker of doubt crossed Constantine's face. He had seen the Codex's power firsthand, felt its pull in the darkest moments of his life. And now, it was in Harry's hands. A boy who had already sacrificed so much.
The Ancient One watched him carefully, her voice soft but firm. "Pray that you are right, Constantine. For if you are wrong, the Codex will not simply destroy Harry. It will destroy us all," The whispers from the Codex grew louder, its aura flaring briefly before settling into a dark, foreboding silence. In the quiet of Kamar-Taj, the stakes had never felt higher.
OMAKE:
12:55pm - August 25th, 1976 - Diagon Alley - Earth - Universe Designation: 1.616.1
The sun was bright over the bustling cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, and for once, Harry Potter felt a sliver of normalcy. It had been days since he had woken from the encounter with Feral Magic, days since he felt like he was carrying the weight of a thousand worlds on his shoulders. Today, it was just him, Rose, Sirius, and James shopping for some last minute school supplies. Of course, "normal" with this group was relative.
"Harry," Sirius said, holding up a glittering golden pocket watch from a nearby vendor. "What do you think? Does this scream 'distinguished heir of the noble and most ancient House of Black' or 'I'm compensating for something?'"
"It screams 'overpriced garbage',"Rose said flatly, tugging Harry along before Sirius could respond. "And we're supposed to be buying quills and ink, not ridiculous trinkets,"
"Speak for yourself," James interjected, appearing from another stall with a massive bag of Zonko's products. "I'm preparing for term in the only way that matters. Ensuring our pranks set a new standard of excellence,"
"You mean chaos," Rose corrected, shooting him a disapproving look.
"Excellence through chaos," James clarified with a grin.
Harry chuckled at their bickering, but his attention was quickly drawn to the towering stack of books Rose was cradling. "Are you really planning to read all of those before term starts?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. They only had six days left.
"Yes," she said without hesitation. "If I'm going to blend in as a normal student, I need to catch up on this timeline's magical theory. Besides," she added with a smirk, "I don't trust your Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson plans not to get me expelled,"
"That's fair," Harry admitted with an amused shrug.
Sirius sidled up next to them, grinning mischievously. "You know, if Rose is aiming for 'model student', she should really start by avoiding troublemakers like us. Bad influence and all that,"
"I'll consider it," Rose replied dryly, "...right after you avoid trouble for more than five consecutive minutes,"
"Challenge accepted," Sirius said, immediately tossing a Dungbomb into the middle of the street. Chaos erupted as the bomb exploded with a particularly noxious stench. Witches and wizards scattered, yelling in alarm as the thick green cloud billowed upward. Sirius doubled over with laughter, clutching his sides, while James looked both horrified and impressed.
"You absolute idiot!" Rose hissed, smacking Sirius on the arm. "You're going to get us arrested!"
"No, no," Sirius wheezed between laughs. "Now it screams 'distinguished heir of the House of Black',"
"Do you even have a plan to get out of this?" Harry asked, shaking his head.
Sirius winked. "You're with me, aren't you? Improvisation is the plan!" As the group ducked into a side alley to avoid the commotion, Harry couldn't help but grin despite himself. Whatever the new term had in store, at least he wouldn't face it alone. And with these lunatics, he'd never be bored.