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"Crushing Curse!"
"Blasting Hex!"
"Confringo!"
The shattered boulder was obliterated by a barrage of spells. But just as it was about to rest in peace, a Repair Charm dragged the poor stone target back to the world of the living.
Magic was truly handy!
With some daylight left, Harry found an open space and began his experiment. The invisible, untouchable magical core in him didn't enhance his physical strength at all, but its effect on his magic was immense.
Though, for Harry, this wasn't entirely a good thing.
He had become more... 'limited.'
Harry's magic had always been insufficient to begin with, like the rapid-firing White Ivory. The 120-shot limit was enough to exhaust the weapon in seconds. At full speed, with a theoretical fire rate of 1,300 rounds per minute, White Ivory could drain Harry's magic in just six seconds.
The pulsing magical core now caused his magic to flow abnormally fast. Simply put, Harry could output more magic in a given time than most wizards. While this increased the power of his spells, it also significantly increased his magic consumption—and led to additional waste.
If his previous magic consumption was a 1, now it was a 4. One part was boosting the spell, but the other two parts were wasted energy that couldn't fully convert into magic. Other than producing louder blasts, this waste offered no positive effects.
Maybe deafening enemies with the gunfire-like noise was a new strategy?
"That's just ridiculous."
Harry muttered to himself. White Ivory was now half-useless. Although the spell strength had doubled, the fourfold increase in consumption had reduced him to a mere few seconds of power. White Ivory, now capable of draining Harry dry in six or seven seconds, truly deserved the label of insatiable.
Ebony was in worse shape. If White Ivory was half-broken, Ebony was completely out of commission. Its original magic consumption was already twice that of White Ivory. Now, after the boost, Ebony's magic amplification had tripled, but its magic cost had increased to eight times the normal amount. Every spell Harry cast left him utterly drained.
"These two little devils..."
Harry looked at his twin weapons, Ebony and Ivory, feeling utterly helpless. He didn't want this kind of enhancement, but now that it had been forced on him, there was no way to return it.
Sighing deeply, Harry had no choice but to accept the reality. After returning to his dorm, he collapsed onto his bed, determined to empty his mind. Problems always have solutions, but rushing won't help.
As soft snores escaped him, Harry sank into a deep, deep sleep. The dark dreamscape of the night drew him into an endless tunnel.
In the darkness, a faint light appeared, growing closer and brighter.
At that moment, the heartbeat that had previously faded returned, growing louder and stronger as the light approached.
"Why am I home?"
Harry looked around at the familiar surroundings, feeling a wave of nostalgia. It was a spacious room, the floor covered in a soft Persian rug. A large bed invited him to roll around freely, and one side of the room was lined with bookshelves crammed with comics. Across from them, a wall of figurines stood proudly, a sight that was oddly satisfying.
This is a typical otaku's room. If there's any difference, it's probably that this otaku has more money. That wall of figurines alone looks like it could be the down payment on a house.
This was Harry's most vivid memory of home, even though he knew he could never return.
"Oh, so it's a dream."
Realizing it, Harry sighed wistfully. "I thought I'd forgotten it long ago. Turns out I still remember."
"It's all in the past," he said with a bitter smile. The surroundings blurred, and the scene changed to another place he knew well—his bedroom in the Dursleys' house.
"This was my home too."
With a small smile, Harry looked around the room before gently opening the door. Instead of the familiar hallway, he found himself facing an empty path, stretching into the distance alongside a set of train tracks. If Harry had to guess, this was Platform 9.
"There should be a Hogwarts Express here," he muttered, glancing at the platform sign. And sure enough, a crimson steam engine appeared, billowing white smoke.
"But what's the point of this dream?"
Lucid dreams weren't that unusual, but the ability to consciously alter the dream's scenery was still pretty amazing. What could it mean, though?
As he pondered, the scene blurred again. The station became shrouded in a thick fog, and in front of him stood a tall, ornate mirror—the Mirror of Erised.
Harry stepped closer. The reflection in the mirror wasn't just of him; it was of who he was right now.
The person in the mirror wore a tight-fitting white vest and black athletic shorts—Harry's preferred comfortable outfit. But something was different. In the reflection, there was a blue dot on his chest, pulsing and contracting.
As Harry stared, the blue dot became clearer. Unlike what he expected, it wasn't a heart. Instead, it was a tiny figure, nestled in his chest.
The sleeping baby looked a lot like him. Harry remembered seeing a baby photo once, taken when Aunt Petunia had placed him and Dudley together for a picture. The small figure in the mirror looked exactly like he had as a baby.
"My hunch was right," Harry murmured to himself, a bit lost in thought. As he spoke, the reflection in the mirror began to change. His eyes turned a deep brown, his facial structure shifted, and even his body became smaller. Though still fit and strong, it wasn't as muscular as Harry's current form.
"So, you've been in my heart all along, haven't you, Harry?"
He placed a hand on his chest, lowering his head as he spoke softly.
"I'm just a trespasser from another world, one who's stolen the life that was meant to be yours."
"An apology probably wouldn't do much, would it?"
After a moment of silence, he sighed quietly.
"The only thing I can promise is that I'll take good care of Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and our cousin Dudley."
"They've been so kind to me, always looking out for me. They've given me the family I never had in my previous life. I'll protect them. Even if you don't ask me to, I'd do it anyway."
"I wonder if you'd still be interested in Cho Chang, though. Personally, I think she's just alright. If you want, I could steal her from Cedric. They've only just started dating, and trust me, I'm pretty skilled at taking other guys' girlfriends. You can count on me—an old hand at this."
After a wry smile, Harry shook his head slightly. 'Harry' was no more. Though he had seen that small figure, Harry knew with certainty that when he had taken over this body, the original owner had already merged with him. The vast difference in soul strength between the two had made absorption the only outcome.
"What about Voldemort?"
Harry, realizing this was no ordinary dream, began to suspect that this place was more like a soul space rather than a mere dream. This would explain why he felt so lucid, and how his thoughts alone could reshape the surrounding environment at will.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the mirror and thick fog vanished. In their place appeared a pitch-black shadow, standing in a pristine white room.
The shadow resembled a person, but it was baby-sized, with rough, raw-looking red skin, as if it had been skinned. Its grotesque mouth, filled with crooked teeth, gaped wide, seemingly letting out disturbing cries. Yet, the sound couldn't reach him. A thin, flexible eggshell encased the creature tightly.
A fine thread connected the eggshell to Harry's chest, linking to the same blue, pulsating light he had seen before.
No explanation was needed. Harry understood. The eggshell was the magic left by his mother, Lily, and the thread was the only connection between him and the hideous baby-like creature inside. Through this thread, Harry could sense the protective magic of the eggshell, as well as the creature's frail essence, screaming inside.
Without this eggshell, Harry, connected by the thread, would have unknowingly had his strength drained, feeding the growth of this ugly monster.
But this protection wasn't eternal. Harry could feel the magic of the shell weakening, ever so slowly. Dumbledore had said that the power of love would protect him until he turned seventeen. Had Voldemort not stolen that magic, stretching its effect unnaturally like a glitched system, the monster would have started leeching off Harry's soul the moment he reached that age.
"So, it's because of you that Harry still had a fragment of himself left, isn't it?"
The magic of love had tried to protect Harry even after it had deflected Voldemort's Killing Curse. But the traveler's soul was too strong compared to the infant Harry's, and upon contact, the two souls had merged, resulting in the consumption of the weaker one. Lily's love had only managed to preserve a tiny shadow of Harry—her protection, ultimately, had failed.
For some reason, a deep sense of guilt welled up within him.
He had killed a mother's child, the one she had sacrificed everything to protect. He had taken everything from that child—his life, his future, everything that was meant to be his.
The emotions surging in his heart plunged him into a long silence. He didn't know how to face this reality. What had happened could not be undone, and apologies or repentance felt like empty, meaningless words.
It wasn't Harry who broke the silence. Instead, a faint ripple from the fragile eggshell drew his attention, causing him to slowly lift his head.
A soft, gentle silhouette of a woman seemed to appear before him, smiling warmly. She waved at him with a kind gesture.
The overwhelming sense of comfort and closeness made Harry approach cautiously. But he couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes, those clear, lake-like green eyes. He didn't know how to face this great mother—a mother who had given her life to protect her child.
"Harry."
A gentle voice called out to him.
"I'm not—"
The desperate words slipped out. Now understanding everything, he couldn't bring himself to deceive the person before him, even if she was merely a fleeting shadow.
A gentle hand lifted his chin, cradling his face, guiding him to look up. He found himself staring into those clear, green eyes.
"Harry."
It was still that soft, familiar voice, and a small smile appeared on Lily's face.
"You've grown."
"Your father and I, we've always loved you."
"But I'm not— I'm just—"
He tried to explain further, but her gentle arms wrapped around him, pulling him into an embrace. Lily pressed her cheek against the top of his head, whispering softly, "You will always be my child."
"Mom loves you, Harry."
That tender voice seemed to shatter the hardest, coldest part of his heart, and Harry couldn't hold back the flood of tears. The loving mother held her weeping child close, gently patting his back and humming the lullaby she had once used to soothe him to sleep.
Harry had never felt such peace, such warmth. This love—pure and flawless, from a mother—was a feeling entirely different from anything he had experienced with Aunt Petunia. It was a love that could give everything, the most powerful force in the world.
The ethereal figure slowly began to fade, and the arms holding him gradually became harder to feel. At that moment, with everything becoming clear in his heart, Harry slowly raised his head. For the first time, he found the courage to look into those clear green eyes, his expression dazed and soft.
A faint smile crossed his face. Lily let go, and the two simply stood there, gazing at each other quietly.
"Mom."
Harry smiled as he spoke softly. In that moment, he finally voiced the familiar yet distant word.
"Thank you. Thank you."
Standing up from the ground, Harry took a deep breath. He waved one last time, saying farewell to the gentle mother who had been with him.
The small child that had been hidden in his heart was gone. In its place was a strong, vibrant magical core that appeared on the right side of his chest.
No longer separated by 'two people,' his magical heart seemed to undergo a subtle change, though Harry paid no attention to it at the time.
The powerful beating of his heart shattered the pure white walls around him, and the eggshell encasing the twisted creature broke apart!
The sound of thunder echoed through the soul world, as leaden clouds brewed bolts of lightning!
He raised his hand, and in this space where his thoughts ruled, he was now the voice of the gods.
The piercing wails of the creature reverberated as the shell shattered, and from the heavens descended a thunderbolt that formed into a battle hammer, brimming with murderous intent.
"Die!"
The roaring thunder was deafening, and the wretched creature, clinging to life, was crushed into dust before the wrath of heaven.
The obliterated soul fragments dissolved into pure spiritual particles. In a battle between souls, there was only one result: devour or be devoured.
Beneath the magical heart, a faint blue spot appeared, expanding and contracting ever so slightly with each of Harry's breaths.
(End of chapter)