Chapter 83: New Magic
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 83: New Magic
Three weeks.
That was all the time Harry had before the Azkaban rescue mission.
Twenty-one days to prepare, to train, to become strong enough to face whatever Dumbledore's forces would throw at them.
It felt like both an eternity and no time at all.
Harry stood in the centre of the training room, the Potter Grimoire floating before him. Its pages turned slowly, as if guided by an invisible hand, revealing spell after spell written in elegant, ancient script.
He had been studying the grimoire for hours, and he still felt like he had barely scratched the surface. The book was deceptively large...far larger than its physical size suggested. He had counted well over a thousand pages, each one filled with spells, charms, curses, and rituals. And yet he had access only to the first half.
The second half remained sealed to him, the pages refusing to turn no matter how hard he tried. The grimoire would only open fully when it considered him ready, as the second half contained the most dangerous spells, sorceries, and rituals that the members of the Potter family had recorded in its pages.
And it was likely that this second half also contained the ritual that Dumbledore coveted so much.
Harry didn't mind. The first half alone contained more magic than he could ever hope to master in a lifetime. He had spent the past few days carefully going through the pages, searching for spells that would be useful in the coming battle.
He had narrowed his choices down to three.
The first was a combat spell called Gladius Incendia: the Fire Blade Charm. It conjured a blade of white-hot flame from the wand's tip, capable of cutting through flesh, stone, and even dark enchantments.
The grimoire described it as a "weapon of last resort," a spell that required intense focus and control. But if Harry could master it, he would have a powerful offensive tool at his disposal.
The second was a defensive spell called Speculum Aeternum: the Eternal Mirror Charm. It created a shimmering, reflective barrier that could deflect curses and hexes back at the caster. Unlike a standard Shield Charm, which merely blocked spells, Speculum Aeternum turned an opponent's magic against them.
It was a difficult spell to master, requiring perfect timing and immense concentration, but the potential payoff was enormous.
The third was a utility spell called Lux Invisibilis—the Invisible Light Charm. It conjured a small, floating orb of light that was invisible to anyone except the caster. It was perfect for navigating dark places without alerting enemies to his presence.
Harry could already imagine using it during the Azkaban mission, moving through the shadows while his enemies stumbled in the dark.
Three spells. One combat, one defensive, one utility. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Harry took a deep breath and raised his wand.
"Gladius Incendia."
A flicker of flame appeared at the tip of his wand, then died. He tried again, focusing harder, visualising the blade of fire he wanted to create.
"Gladius Incendia!"
A small tongue of flame shot from his wand, flickering for a moment before fading. It wasn't a blade, not yet, but it was progress.
Harry smiled with a determined glint in his eyes. He had three weeks. He would make every second count.
The hours stretched into days. Harry trained relentlessly, pushing himself to his limits.
He woke before dawn and practiced until his arm ached and his mind grew foggy.
He ate quickly, barely tasting the food, then returned to the training room. He slept fitfully, his dreams filled with incantations and spell diagrams.
The grimoire had plenty of knowledge, but it was not a teacher. It showed him the spells, but it did not hold his hand. Harry had to learn through trial and error, through failure and persistence.
"Gladius Incendia" was proving to be the hardest one to learn. The blade of fire required perfect control. With too little focus, it fizzled; too much, and it exploded.
Harry spent hours just trying to maintain a steady flame, sweat dripping down his forehead as he concentrated.
"Speculum Aeternum" was more forgiving but still challenging. The reflective barrier required impeccable timing. He had to cast it at the exact moment a spell was about to strike, redirecting the magic back at its source. He practiced against enchanted dummies, deflecting their hexes until his reflexes were sharp as a knife.
"Lux Invisibilis" was the simplest of the three, but it still took him two full days to master.
The invisible orb of light was tricky to create. He had to pour just the right amount of magic into it, shaping it with his mind until it was stable and silent.
By the end of the first week, Harry had made significant progress. He could summon a blade of fire that lasted several seconds. He could deflect spells with the mirror charm. He could create an invisible orb of light that followed him like a faithful pet.
But he was still far from feeling ready.
On the eighth day, Harry pushed himself too hard.
He was practicing Gladius Incendia when the blade of fire exploded, sending him flying backwards into the wall. He hit the stone with a sickening crack, his vision going white.
When he came to, Dibble was hovering over him, his large eyes filled with worry.
"Master Harry! Are you all right?"
Harry groaned, pushing himself upright. His head throbbed, and his shoulder ached. But he was alive.
"I'm fine," he said, though his voice was weak. "Just... just give me a moment."
Dibble helped him to his feet, his small hands surprisingly strong. "Master Harry must be careful. The grimoire's spells are powerful. They can hurt you if you are not ready."
Harry nodded, leaning against the wall. "I know. But I don't have time to be careful. The mission is in two weeks. I need to be ready."
Dibble's expression was troubled. "Dibble understands. But Master Harry cannot help anyone if he is injured."
Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're right. I'll take a break. Just... just a short one."
He limped out of the training room and made his way to the kitchen. Dibble had prepared a simple meal for him. Soup and bread that Harry ate slowly, letting the warmth soothe his aching muscles.
The house-elf watched him with anxious eyes, his small hands fidgeting with the edge of his tea towel.
"Master Harry pushed himself too hard today," Dibble said softly. "Dibble was worried."
Harry offered a tired smile. "I'm fine, Dibble. Just tired."
Dibble nodded, but his expression remained troubled. " Master Harry is the last member of the Potter House...if something happened to Master Harry, then Dibble will have no purpose anymore..."
"Ah..." Harry hadn't thought about that. But it was true.
He looked around the massive kitchen. He was sure that at some point in time, this place must have been filled with life. With members of the Potter House and many house-elves preparing the food and tending the castle.
But now...it was just him and Dibble.
"I'm sorry." Said Harry. "I will be more careful."
The elf smiled. "Dibble will make sure Master Harry rests properly tonight. No more training until morning."
Harry chuckled weakly. "Yes, Mum."
Dibble's ears perked up, confused. "Dibble is not Master Harry's mother. Dibble is a house-elf."
"I know," Harry said, still smiling. "It's just... a saying. Never mind."
Dibble nodded, still looking slightly bewildered, but he seemed satisfied that Harry was at least eating.
As he ate, he thought about the mission. About all the prisoners who had been rotting in Azkaban for years, waiting for someone to save them.
He couldn't let them down.
<><>
Night had fallen by the time Harry climbed the winding stairs to the owlery.
The tower was cold and dark, the wind howling through the open windows. But Harry barely noticed the chill. His mind was still buzzing with the spells he had been practicing, the incantations echoing in his thoughts.
Vesper was perched near the highest window, his dark grey feathers gleaming in the moonlight. The owl tilted his head as Harry approached, his amber eyes bright and intelligent.
"Hey, boy," Harry said softly, reaching out to stroke the owl's chest. "I've missed you. I'm sorry I haven't been to visit more often. I've been busy training."
Vesper clicked his beak softly, as if forgiving him. He hopped onto Harry's arm, his talons gripping gently through the fabric of his robes.
Dibble appeared beside Harry, his large eyes fixed on the owl. "This is a very smart owl, Master Harry. Much smarter than the average one. He came here by himself and found Master Harry without being called."
Harry smiled proudly. "Vesper is very special. He's been with me since my first year. He's helped me through a lot."
Vesper puffed out his chest, clearly understanding the praise.
Harry pulled a folded parchment from his robes. "I have a job for you, my friend. I have a letter I need you to deliver," he said, tying it to Vesper's leg. "It's for Daphne Greengrass. I don't know where she is exactly, but I'm hoping you can find her."
Vesper blinked slowly, as if acknowledging the task.
The letter was brief...Harry had been careful not to reveal anything that could compromise the mission. He had told Daphne that he was safe, that he had escaped Hogwarts, and that he hoped she was well.
He had not mentioned his location, the Knights of Walpurgis, or the upcoming raid on Azkaban. It was too risky to do so. If the letter was intercepted, Dumbledore's forces would learn everything.
But Harry wanted her to know he was thinking of her. He wanted her to know that he hadn't forgotten her, even if they were miles apart.
"Take this to her," Harry said, stroking Vesper's feathers. "And come back safely."
Vesper spread his wings and launched into the night, his dark form disappearing into the clouds. Harry watched him go, his heart heavy with hope and worry.
"Will she be safe?" he asked quietly.
Dibble tilted his head. "Dibble does not know, Master Harry. But Vesper is a clever owl. He will find her."
Harry nodded, turning away from the window. "I hope so."
He remained there, looking into the night sky for a long moment.
"Is Master Harry worried about something?" Dibble asked.
Harry shook his head. "No, I was just thinking about something. I wish there was someone I could consult about all of this. The grimoire has plenty of knowledge, and the spells are well described, but it's only been two years since I even learned about magic at all. There is so much I dont understand."
"Does Master Harry want a teacher?. Like those in Hogwarts?" the house elf asked.
"Something like that...I guess." Harry shook his head. "I know it's impossible."
Dibble's large eyes sparkled. "But Master Harry, it is not impossible."
Harry stopped, turning to face the house-elf. "What do you mean?"
Dibble smiled warmly. "The castle is filled with enchanted paintings. They contain the memories of your ancestors...their knowledge, their wisdom, their experiences. They have been waiting for the day when the last heir of the Potter house would come home."
Harry's breath caught in his throat. "I can consult them? Any of them?"
"All of them, Master Harry," Dibble said. "As the last heir, they will all want to help you. You can ask them anything...about spells, about history, about the family legacy. They have centuries of knowledge to share with Master Harry."
Harry felt a surge of excitement. He had been so focused on the grimoire and the training room that he had forgotten about the portraits.
The castle was more than just a home...it was a library, a school, a treasure trove of wisdom.
"Which one should I start with?" Harry asked.
Dibble's smile widened. "That is up to Master Harry. But Dibble would suggest starting with someone who knew about battle magic. Perhaps one of the warrior ancestors."
Harry nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. He had so much to learn and so little time.
"Thank you, Dibble," he said. "I know what I need to do."
He turned and hurried down the corridor.
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