The dim light of the flickering lanterns illuminated the room as Harry leaned cautiously over his potion cauldron scanning every ripple in the bubbling liquid. In his other hand, he held Elythral tightly, ready to react to any mishap, and his other hand griped the edge of the table tightly.
The potion inside the cauldron shimmered like molten obsidian, its surface smooth and glass-like. Harry held his breath, watching for the telltale signs of instability. When nothing exploded, fizzed, or released smoke, his heart soared.
"I did it!" Harry shouted, his voice echoing through the quiet room. He threw his arms in the air with a grin on his face. "I'm a freaking genius."
The black potion in the cauldron was the modified Animalis Lingua Potion—Animalis Lingua Totem. The potion Harry had modified to allow its drinker to speak and understand the language of all magical and non-magical animals and creatures.
It had took him an entire day to theorise the potion and almost a day to brew it successfully. Harry glanced around the room, noting the scorched marks on the stone walls and the faint smell of sulfur lingering in the air. He had already repaired the room fifteen times because of the explosion of the potion.
Harry looked at the clock on the wall—2:03 AM. He had been brewing potion for over 16 hours. Good thing he was in Moonstone Dunvegan and not in Dursley Mansion otherwise from all those explosion Petunia would have gone mad already.
"Sopor," Harry said waving his hand and the sulphury smell vanished from the room through the windows as fresh air rushed in.
After returning with Abigail the previous night and having dinner, he had excused himself saying that he might not be there for breakfast, lunch or dinner the next day as he had a really important potion to brew. After retreating to his room, he decided that it would be better if he brewed it in the potion room at Moonstone Dunvegan. Now that he thought about it, he forgot to tell Ron and the others about this and that he wouldn't be able to train them.
Luckily he didn't forget to get the ice cream from Mr. Florean, although he just got it and send it back to the Dursley Mansion with Pippin and Fizz. But it was more like he was craving ice cream then, than him remembering about the purchase.
"Mum, must have gone spare when she saw the huge package of ice cream." Harry chuckled as he thought about Petunia's reaction.
He dipped a glass rod into the potion, swirling it gently. The liquid clung to the rod like silk, its texture perfect—just as he had theorised. This was it. He would be able to speak not only Parseltongue but all the other tongues—whatever they are called.
"Well," he muttered to himself, his grin still plastered on his face, "let's see if it works tomorrow. But for now… food."
Harry flicked his wrists to clean up the table and set the potion aside for now. Then he made his way out of the potion room and started walking towards the kitchen through the corridors. The bad thing about this was that kitchen was somewhere around the ground floor and currently he was in the seventh floor of the North tower.
"I'm not walking all the way." Harry said as he disapparated mid-step. He appeared in the living room and started looking around to find the kitchen.
As Harry scanned the dimly lit living room, the faint glow of embers in the fireplace cast flickering shadows on the stone walls. Moonstone Dunvegan was eerily quiet at this hour, apart from the crackling of the fire at the fireplace.
"Kitchen, kitchen..." he muttered to himself, peering down the nearest corridor.
His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since the night before. With a sigh, he decided to use a more direct approach.
"Fizz!" he called, his voice echoing slightly in the vast room.
There was a small pop behind Harry, who turned to see Fizz standing there.
"Master Harry, what can Fizz do for you?"
"Where's the kitchen?" Harry asked, rubbing his temples. "I can't for the life of me remember where it is, and I'm too tired to search."
Fizz clapped her hands together, a wide smile spreading across her face. "Fizz will take Master Harry there! But Master Harry should sit down—Fizz will bring food here instead. You worked too hard brewing your clever potion."
Harry chuckled, appreciating the elf's concern. "Thanks, Fizz, but I think I need the walk. Lead the way."
Fizz looked hesitant but nodded. She darted toward one of the hallways, and Harry followed, his boots echoing softly against the flagstones. The corridors of Moonstone Dunvegan were sprawling, lined with tall windows that let in silver beams of moonlight.
"You know," Harry mused as they walked. "I should probably make a map of this place. It's even bigger than Hogwarts and I keep getting lost."
Fizz giggled as they turned a corner. "Master Harry is busy with big things. Fizz can make maps if Master Harry wishes!"
"Maybe I'll take you up on that," he replied with a grin.
They reached the kitchen, a warm and inviting space with oak cabinets, a massive hearth, and rows of gleaming copper pots hanging form the ceiling.
"Alright, what's easy to make at this hour?" Harry asked as he looked in the pantry, which was stocked with everything.
"Fizz can make something for Master Harry—"
"No, no," Harry said, waving her off. "I want to cook. I haven't cooked in so long. You go and get some of Dad's hidden stash and also get us some ice cream. The butterbeer flavour."
The house-elf hesitated before bowing and disappearing with a soft pop.
Harry took out a large brisket. He set the brisket down on the counter, its marbled surface glistening faintly under the warm glow of the kitchen. He rolled up his sleeves, flexing his fingers as he reached for the spices.
"Alright, let's see if I still got it." Harry muttered to himself.
He used time magic to quickly slow-cook the brisket to tender perfection and also bake a strawberry pie. He then paired them up with mushroom pasta and garlic bread. As he was plating up the food, Fizz reappeared, balancing a bowl of butterbeer flavoured ice cream in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.
Harry smiled at Fizz as she carefully set the ice cream and whiskey on the counter. He then picked up the bottle—Duskfire Reserve. Well this was the first time he had seen or heard about this, so well he had to taste it. He pulled out the cork and poured himself some of it.
"Fizz found this hidden in the North Tower pantry. Master Vernon kept it well." Fizz said eagerly as she noticed Harry swirling the golden liquid around in his glass.
Harry chuckled, "Well I guess I should give it a taste to see how good my Dad's palette is for whiskey, right."
He took a sip. The whiskey was quite good with earthy and a smoky taste. It didn't burn the neck much and had a pleasant aftertaste.
"I have to say, I am impressed with Dad's choice. It's quite good." He said as he placed the glass down.
He glanced at Fizz, who stood nearby her hands clasped tightly in front of her. He chuckled, "What are you doing, Fizz? Sit down at the table. Try some of my cooking. I need an honest opinion about how my cooking is."
Fizz's eye widened, and she took a small step back, shaking her head fervently. "Fizz cannot! Master Harry cooked this—Fizz is not worthy to taste such food!"
Harry raised an eyebrow, his tone firm but kind. "Please I have already plated. And everyone is worthy of food. Now sit and eat, or I'll be very cross."
Fizz hesitated, wringing her hands before finally climbing onto the stool Harry had pulled out for her. She looked at the plate with a mixture of awe and hesitation.
"Go on," Harry encouraged, taking a seat himself. "Tell me what you think."
Fizz picked up the fork with trembling hands and speared a piece of brisket. She took a cautious bite, her eyes widening as the tender meat practically melted in her mouth. A small, delighted sound escaped her.
"Master Harry is brilliant!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with joy. "Fizz has never tasted anything so wonderful!"
Harry grinned, digging into his own plate. "Well, I'm glad I haven't lost my touch."
Fizz tried the pasta next, humming with delight at the rich, creamy flavors, then took a small bite of the garlic bread. She looked at Harry with a glowing expression.
"Master Harry's cooking is as good as his magic!" she declared, clapping her hands together.
Harry chuckled as he started eating himself. After the first bite of the brisket, he was glad that he had not forgotten how to cook.
As Harry savored the flavors of his cooking, he glanced at Fizz, who was happily munching on the garlic bread. "So, Fizz, what did you get up to today? And what was on the menu back at the mansion?"
Fizz's ears perked up, and her eyes sparkled with excitement at being asked. "Fizz was very busy today, Master Harry! For breakfast, Miss Petunia made fluffy pancakes with honey and berries. Abigail was not pleased, though—she kept looking at Master Harry's empty seat and muttering about lazy wizards who disappear!"
Harry chuckled, imagining Abigail's pout. "Sounds about right. What about lunch?"
Fizz continued enthusiastically, "Fizz helped Miss Petunia make a big shepherd's pie for lunch. Abigail was less cross but still sulking. And for dinner, oh, Miss Petunia made Master Harry's favorite—treacle tart! She said, 'He'll have some when he gets back.'"
Harry smiled fondly at the thought of his aunt remembering his favorite dessert. "She's too good to me," he murmured before taking another bite of pasta.
Fizz added with a wide grin, "Oh! And Abigail was very curious about the ice cream Master Harry sent back. She wanted to try all the flavors at once!"
Harry laughed, shaking his head. "That sounds like her. I hope she didn't get a stomach ache!"
When they finished eating, Harry leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "Fizz, take the rest of the food and share it with the other elves. I want them all to try my cooking."
Fizz's eyes widened, her voice trembling with gratitude. "Master Harry is too kind! Fizz will make sure everyone gets a taste."
Harry smiled warmly. "And while you're at it, take whatever ice cream you want from the storage. I counted you all when I bought them, so don't worry about running out. Let everyone have a treat."
Fizz beamed, bowing low. "Fizz thanks Master Harry from the bottom of her heart! The other elves will be so happy!"
As Fizz gathered the dishes with careful hands and popped away with a soft crack, Harry leaned back in his chair, his heart light. Well with his stomach now full, he was feeling dizzy. He should get back to his room soon unless he wanted to sleep in Moonstone Dunvegan.
With that thought, Harry disapparated, reappearing in the potion room. He carefully transferred the potion into a large glass vial and stoppered it. He then put it in his pocket and disapparated again. Appearing in his bedroom back at the Dursley Mansion, Harry looked at the clock. It was already 4 AM. Good thing that today was Sunday and he could sleep in. Well its not like someone stops him from sleeping in on other days, but it didn't feel right.
He sighed as he slipped out of his robes and put on some comfortable sleepwear. He placed the glass vial in one of the bedside table drawer and jumped into his bed. Then thinking about how he will deal with the Basilisk before the start of new term, Harry fell asleep.
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Harry blinked blearily at the sunlight streaming through the curtains. He stretched lazily, his muscles stiff from the previous day's potion endeavor. Sitting up, he rubbed his face and glanced at the clock on the wall. 2:14 PM.
"Brilliant," he muttered to himself, sliding out of bed. He padded over to the window and pulled back the drapes, the golden light momentarily blinding him. The gardens of the Dursley Mansion sprawled out below. It was quiet, save for the occasional chirping of birds.
A knock on the door, interrupted his thoughts. "Come in," Harry called, yawning.
The door creaked open to reveal Ron wearing a t-shirt and jeans. Harry stretched again, feeling the stiffness in his back and shoulders as he ran a hand through his messy hair. The sleep had done him some good, but there was still a lingering fog in his mind.
"So, you didn't tell us that you wouldn't be doing the training yesterday?" Ron asked as he came in and flopped down on one of the couch.
Harry yawned, "Yeah, sorry about that. I forgot to tell you guys. I was too caught up in brewing a potion."
Ron's interest piqued, his eyes lighting up. "What potion?" he asked, sitting up straight.
Harry sighed and flopped down on the other couch. "It's a potion that allows you to speak to any and all creatures and animals—magical or non-magical..." He trailed off as he tried to stifle another yawn.
Ron blinked, clearly impressed. "Blimey, that's mental! What are you gonna do with it, though?"
Harry shrugged, trying to play it off casually. "I'm not really sure yet. Haven't thought about it much."
Ron's curiosity seemed to settle, though his expression was still one of admiration. "Alright, fair enough. So, what are you doing today?"
Harry paused, thinking for a moment. He hadn't really planned anything specific for the day. "No plans, really. Just thinking about what I'll do next, but that's pretty much it."
Ron grinned then, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Well, you could come over to my place. Bill came home last night and he says he will be there for a while. He said wanted to meet you."
Harry stifled another yawn as he thought about it. He knew about Bill but he had yet to meet him. If the story followed the original plot, he would have met him during his sixth year, but it seems the plot had changed yet again.
"Okay. I'll be over there in a bit. I just need to clean up and take a shower first." Harry replied.
Ron nodded enthusiastically, getting up and heading to the door. "Alright, I'll see you there. Don't take too long though!"
He paused at the door, turning back with a mischievous grin. "Oh, and Ginny's been asking about you nonstop. Said something about missing you. You'd better hurry before she stages a rescue mission."
Harry snorted, shaking his head. "Tell her I'm alive and well, won't you?
Ron chuckled as he left, closing the door behind him. Harry stood, stretching again before heading to his walk-in wardrobe. He grabbed a fresh set of clothes—a simple shirt and jeans—then made his way to the bathroom for a shower.
The hot water cascading over him was soothing, but his mind was far from at ease. As he lathered up, his thoughts wandered to the storm brewing within the wizarding world. Tomorrow would mark the beginning of yet another upheaval. Fudge would finally step down from his position as Minister of Magic, and, as planned, nominate Amelia Bones as his successor.
At first, he had considered keeping Amelia under his direct control, much like others he had subtly manipulated. But the idea left a sour taste in his mouth. He didn't want to control everyone—not yet, anyway. Besides, he already had Umbridge planted within the Ministry, conveniently working under Amelia's authority. Through her, Harry could monitor Amelia's actions and intervene if necessary.
If she proved my thinking wrong... Harry's hand tightened briefly around the shower handle as a cold thought entered his mind. It wouldn't take much to replace her. Or to make her disappear entirely.
The possibility lingered heavily in his thoughts, a tense undercurrent to his usually calm demeanor. He didn't take pleasure in such measures, but he wouldn't hesitate either. The stakes were too high, and Harry had long since accepted that his hands would never be clean. He wasn't an all good person like the original Harry anyway.
Turning off the water, Harry stepped out of the shower and quickly dried himself off. He dressed, glancing at the clock as he ran a hand through his damp hair. 2:55 PM. Not bad.
With one last look at the mirror, Harry disapparated from his room, without a sound. He appeared silently in the garden just outside the Burrow. He looked around for a moment, before he made his way to the door. As he stepped inside, the familiar chaos of the Burrow greeted him—the smell of fresh bread wafting from the kitchen, the clutter of boots near the door, and the sound of distant laughter from upstairs.
The living room was relatively quiet, though. On the couch, Harry spotted someone lounging and reading a book. It was Bill Weasley.
With his long hair tied back and dragon-hide boots propped on the table, Bill looked every bit the confident and seasoned curse breaker Harry had imagined.
But the moment Harry stepped fully into the room, Bill froze.
His head snapped up, his body going unnaturally still. Harry caught the flicker of tension in the older wizard's jaw, his hand twitching near his wand. Bill's eyes locked onto Harry, narrowing as his senses screamed a warning.
It wasn't just the typical unease of facing someone strong. No, this was primal, a deep-rooted instinct warning him that he was in the presence of something far beyond him—something he couldn't hope to match. Bill's heart raced as the air seemed to grow heavier, his every instinct demanding caution.
Harry noticed, Bill's reaction and was amused. He didn't realise the Bill had such sensitive nature to him. Harry wasn't even letting his magical energy out of him, yet Bill looked scared.
"Bill Weasley," Harry greeted lightly, his tone calm and unassuming. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."
Bill didn't answer immediately. He was too focused on the sheer pressure that seemed to radiate off Harry. For a brief, startling moment, he felt truly small—outmatched, outmaneuvered, and completely powerless.
Finally after a few moments, he found his voice. "You're... Harry?"
Harry chuckled. "Yeah, that's what they call me."
"They didn't mention that you'd feel like…" Bill trailed off, unsure how to articulate what he was experiencing. "Like I'm standing in front of something I don't know how to deal with.
Harry chuckled, "Sorry about that. But I didn't think you had such keen senses to you... I wasn't even letting my magical energy out of my body."
Bill managed a weak smile, "It's not sensitive senses, but a magical spell used to detect curses and traps around oneself. I usually keep that magic spell on at all times.."
Then he chuckled, "Force of habit... sorry."
Harry nodded, his curiosity piqued. "A curse detection spell? Interesting. I haven't read anything about that yet. Is it a new spell?"
Bill replied. "It's not weird that you haven't read about it. It's a special goblin magic that is only taught to curse breakers that work with Gringotts. There is no written record of it."
Harry nods thoughtfully. "I think I can come up with something like that."
He plops down beside Bill, his mind already racing. Without a word, he raised his hand, and golden threads of magic began began to trail from his fingertips, sketching runes and diagrams in the air. His lips moved silently as he seemed to be talking to himself.
Bill froze in disbelief. Harry was making a new spell.
"What… why?" Bill whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Fred and George, who had just walked into the room, stopped in their tracks. "Blimey," Fred muttered, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.
"Is he… drawing runes in the air?" George finished, his jaw dropping.
Molly entered the living room next, holding a tray of tea. Her eyes widened, and she set it down without a word, transfixed by the glowing symbols that hovered and shifted under Harry's guidance.
Ginny, peeking in behind Ron, whispered, "I've never seen magic like that before."
Even Arthur, usually calm and composed, appeared stunned as he quietly entered the room. "Runes… diagrams… Is he inventing a spell?
Bill leaned forward, his voice a hushed mix of awe and disbelief. "He's not just inventing a spell—he's building the framework from scratch. It takes most curse breakers months to develop something this complex, and even then, we work in teams."
Harry was oblivious to the murmurs around him. He was just focused on creating this spell.
Ron, the only one seemingly unfazed, leaned casually against the doorframe. "Yeah, that's Harry for you," he said, shrugging. "This is pretty normal."
"Normal?" Bill choked, turning to Ron with incredulity. "This is normal?"
"Well not for us... for him," Ron said.
Harry stepped back, admiring the glowing framework of runes and glyphs still hovering in the air. With a flick of his hand, he let it dissolve. He then turned to Bill with an excited look.
"Alright, Bill," Harry began, "I think I've managed to come up with something similar to your curse detection spell. But I'd like your opinion—compare it to the one you know and see if it holds up."
Bill choked, "You... invented it already? Right now?"
Harry nodded. "I figured it's worth testing. Do you have any parchment? I could sketch the complete runic structure for you—" He glanced around but found nothing at hand.
"Ah, never mind." Harry raised his hand, channeling his magic into his fingers. "I'll write it here."
With a casual wave, golden lines appeared in mid-air as Harry began inscribing the spell's framework again. The runes and sigils came to life, each stroke glowing with steady brilliance.
"This," Harry explained, pointing to the triangular framework, "is the foundation. Ansuz for revelation, Algiz for protection, and Ehwaz for ensuring compatibility with a wizard's senses."
Bill leaned closer, eyes fixed on the intricate design. "You've even stabilized it with connection threads," he murmured, more to himself than to Harry.
Harry nodded, tracing the central sigil in the air. "This acts as the detection pulse, radiating waves in a 30-foot radius. I've also built in an adaptive sensing feature, so it adjusts automatically based on the ambient magic levels."
Bill straightened, shaking his head in disbelief. "Harry… I've seen spell crafters spend months, years even, working out designs like this. And you—"
"Fifteen minutes," George muttered, earning a soft chuckle from Fred.
Bill inhaled deeply, then smiled, albeit shakily. "Alright. Let me cast it and see."
Harry adds quickly, "The incantation is Spectra Revelare."
Bill raised his wand, muttering the incantation. "Spectra Revelare."
Golden ripples emanated from Bill, spreading across the room. A faint hum began as it reached the enchanted grandfather clock in the corner, its magical workings highlighted in shimmering gold. Bill's brows rose higher as he glanced around.
"This..." he began, turning back to Harry. "It's astonishing. It's different from the goblin spell, but the detection clarity and range—it's better. Cleaner. And the adaptive feature—I don't think anyone has ever integrated something like that into a detection spell before."
Harry smiled slightly. "Good to know it works. Maybe it'll make your job a bit easier."
Bill's smile grew, genuine admiration shining in his eyes. "Easier? Harry, this could revolutionize curse-breaking. How...how did you come up with something like this so quickly?"
Harry looked at Bill confused about what he was asking. "Well you told me how that goblin spell works. I just made implemented that idea into a new spell. I don't think I did anything amazing here."
Bill shook his head in disbelief, still processing what Harry had just said. "You don't get it, do you?" he asked, his voice filled with awe. "Most witches and wizards would need years of study to come up with something like this. But you just... did it. In a matter of minutes. Just like that." He snapped his fingers, as if to emphasize the speed of it.
Harry blinked, a little taken aback by Bill's response. He had simply applied a method he thought would work, but to Bill, it seemed like something far more extraordinary. "It's really not that complicated," Harry said, shrugging a little. "You take one idea, adapt it, and tweak it to your needs. I didn't reinvent the wheel here."
Bill ran a hand through his hair, looking at Harry like he was seeing him in an entirely new light. "That's the thing, Harry. You did reinvent it. No one's done anything like this. This spell could save lives, prevent curses from even touching a person. It could change the way we approach curse-breaking altogether."
Harry, despite the praise, remained as grounded as ever. "I just made it more precise, that's all. I didn't want the magic to be too broad or too vague, so I focused on one thing—detection. The more specific you make it, the easier it is to fine-tune."
Ron, who had been standing quietly by the door, couldn't help but pipe up. "See? This is Harry for you. Doesn't even think twice about something that blows people's minds."
Harry glanced at Ron, offering a small smile before returning his attention to Bill. "Look, I don't think it's revolutionary. It's just another way of looking at magic." He paused for a moment and added, "I guess because my understanding of magic is different than everyone else's so it comes more naturally for me."
Bill looked at him with a confused expression. "Well, what do you mean that your understanding is different?"
As the day drew to a close, the conversation about magic and Harry's groundbreaking approach slowly faded into the background, replaced by the clatter of broomsticks being stowed away and the laughter of the Weasley family. With the Nimbus 2000s now in their hands, the boys had flown higher and faster than ever, with Ginny—surprisingly—being just as fierce and talented as Harry and Charlie, leaving everyone in awe.
After the intense match, Harry invited the entire Weasley family to the Dursley Mansion for a much-needed dinner, even going as far as inviting Hermione and her parents. The dinner was full of laughter, teasing, and the warmth of family, with everyone sharing stories and enjoying the simple pleasure of being together.
As the evening wore on, they all gathered in the spacious living room, still buzzing from the day's excitement. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a soft glow on the group as they exchanged more tales, each one more ridiculous than the last. It was a perfect, ordinary night, something that was needed before what's coming tomorrow. The chaos of a new Minister.