The completed saddle was a masterwork that would have made the ancient Dragonlords weep with envy, but as Harry stood back to admire his creation—all lean muscle and focused intensity, his emerald eyes with their distinctive violet flecks gleaming with satisfaction—his mind was already racing toward the next project. The saddle represented weeks of painstaking work, but it also represented something more: a pattern of successful integration that had transformed legendary artifacts into something entirely new.
"You know," Harry said thoughtfully, running a hand through his perpetually unruly dark hair as he studied the Invisibility Cloak where it hung on a nearby rack, "I've been thinking about completeness. The saddle is brilliant, Dragonbane is extraordinary, but there's still one piece of the puzzle that feels... underutilized." His voice carried that particular combination of analytical precision and barely restrained enthusiasm that had once made his professors simultaneously proud and deeply concerned.
"*The Cloak,*" Aegerax observed, his mental voice carrying the rich, resonant tones that could have belonged to Idris Elba at his most commanding—sophisticated authority wrapped in warm humor. The dragon's tone held that knowing quality of someone who had been wondering when this particular conversation would arise. "*I was wondering when you'd turn that frighteningly innovative mind of yours toward the third Hallow. The Resurrection Stone has become a focusing crystal that could power small cities, the Elder Wand is now the core of a weapon that makes ancient siege engines look like children's toys, but the Cloak remains... merely a cloak. Admittedly, it's a cloak that could hide you from Death himself, but still fundamentally passive in nature.*"
Harry approached the shimmering fabric with the sort of reverent caution he'd once reserved for Dumbledore's more dangerous magical artifacts. Even in the bright light of the workshop, the Cloak seemed to bend perception around itself, creating subtle optical distortions that made it difficult to focus on directly. "Exactly my point," he said, his tone taking on that analytical edge that had once driven Hermione to distraction when he'd spot fundamental flaws in established magical theory. "It's still just concealment—incredibly effective concealment that could fool a basilisk having trust issues, granted, but fundamentally passive. It hides me, but it doesn't enhance my capabilities or amplify my magic the way the other Hallows do now."
He reached out to touch the fabric, marveling at its impossible texture—smoother than silk, lighter than air, but with a weight of power that spoke to its true nature. The Cloak had been woven from the hair of a Demiguise, but this was no ordinary specimen—this creature had existed at the crossroads between life and death, its essence shaped by the same primordial forces that had created the other Hallows.
"*So what exactly are you proposing?*" Aegerax asked with the sort of patient interest that suggested he was looking forward to another display of his partner's tendency to approach impossible challenges with unshakeable confidence and possibly questionable judgment. "*Because I should point out that invisibility and armor are rather like oil and water—fundamentally incompatible concepts that tend to cancel each other out when combined improperly. Most attempts to merge concealment with protection end with neither working properly and the experimenter explaining to unsympathetic authorities why they're standing naked in a smoking crater.*"
Harry's grin was pure mischief tempered by genuine brilliance—the expression of someone who had learned to see solutions where others saw only problems. "That's where you're thinking too conventionally, my magnificent friend," he said with just enough flattery to make the dragon preen slightly. "You're approaching this like it's a binary choice—invisible or visible, protected or exposed. But what if we could have both? What if the integration allowed selective manifestation rather than simple all-or-nothing concealment?"
"*Selective manifestation,*" Aegerax repeated thoughtfully, his mental voice taking on the sort of intrigued consideration that suggested Harry had successfully captured his imagination. The dragon's tone carried that quality of someone working through complex theoretical implications. "*You're talking about being able to phase different aspects of your protection in and out of reality as needed? Invisible when stealth is required, fully manifest when protection is paramount, or some unholy combination of both depending on the tactical situation?*"
"Now you're getting it," Harry said with obvious delight, his emerald eyes brightening with the sort of excitement that had once made his professors brace for pointed questions about the fundamental assumptions underlying their carefully constructed lesson plans. "Adaptive manifestation—not just invisible or visible, but selectively permeable to different types of interaction. I could be invisible to hostile magic while remaining fully solid to my own spells, or corporeal enough to fight while remaining ethereal to enemy attacks. Like having a conversation with reality itself about which rules I feel like following at any given moment."
"*That's either brilliantly innovative or completely barking mad,*" Aegerax said with the sort of dry appreciation that suggested he was leaning toward the former despite the obvious potential for catastrophic failure. His mental voice carried warmth tinged with professional caution. "*The theoretical implications are staggering, though I suspect the practical challenges will be... considerable. You're essentially proposing to create a state of existence that allows selective interaction with the fundamental nature of reality itself. Most magical theorists would require several strong drinks and a comfortable chair just to contemplate the mathematics involved.*"
Harry moved to the section of the workshop where he kept his most precious references, his movements carrying that unconscious grace that spoke of someone who had learned to navigate dangerous situations with both speed and precision. Among the books from the Peverell vault, one in particular seemed to call to his attention—a slim volume bound in silver that glowed with its own inner light.
"Which brings us to the question of methodology," he said, pulling the book from its carefully warded shelf. "I've been studying some of Malachar's earlier work—from before he went completely off the deep end with the Vile Arts and started treating morality like an inconvenient suggestion. His theoretical frameworks for reality manipulation are absolutely brilliant, even if his later applications would make a Dementor reconsider its life choices."
"*Malachar's work,*" Aegerax repeated, his mental voice taking on a note of warning that could have frozen lava mid-flow. The dragon's tone carried the sort of concerned authority that suggested this was not a topic he took lightly. "*I sincerely hope you're not planning to follow in those particular footsteps, young Dragonlord. That path leads to transformations that make Voldemort's modifications look like cosmetic improvements, prices that cannot be unpaid, and destinations that have no return tickets. I've had the distinct displeasure of witnessing what he became, and it's not a fate I would wish on my worst enemy—let alone someone I've grown genuinely fond of.*"
"Relax, you magnificent worrywart," Harry said with the sort of confident reassurance that suggested he understood the dragon's concerns while finding them slightly amusing. He opened the silver-bound book to a section he'd marked with careful annotations. "Not his methods—his early theoretical work, from before he started treating human souls like particularly interesting components in a macabre chemistry set. This is from his first decade of research, when he was still focused on understanding the fundamental nature of magical reality rather than trying to transcend human limitations through increasingly questionable means."
The pages contained diagrams that seemed to shift and flow even as Harry looked at them, showing magical energy as geometric patterns that intersected across multiple dimensions. The mathematics involved were staggering in their complexity, but the underlying principles were elegant in their simplicity—reality was not fixed, but rather a collaborative construction between consciousness and magical force.
"*I admit, his early work was rather impressive,*" Aegerax said with reluctant admiration, his mental voice carrying the sort of professional appreciation that came from recognizing superior theoretical craftsmanship despite reservations about the craftsman. "*Those frameworks could indeed provide the foundation for the sort of selective manifestation you're envisioning. But I must ask—and forgive me if this sounds like the voice of experience talking—how exactly do you intend to power such a working? The energy requirements for manipulating reality at this level would be enormous, far beyond what even an enhanced wizard could sustain without risking some very unpleasant side effects. Such as spontaneous combustion, dimensional displacement, or transformation into something that would be difficult to explain at social gatherings.*"
Harry's smile was pure confidence wrapped in just enough arrogance to be charming rather than insufferable. "That's where Lysander's armor comes in," he said, gesturing to the adaptive protection he wore. The crimson and gold scales seemed to pulse with their own inner light, and Harry could feel the vast magical reserves contained within the armor's crystalline matrix like a second heartbeat. "Lysander designed this as more than just protection—he built it as a magical amplification system, a way to channel and focus power on scales that would normally turn a human wizard into a small pile of ash with delusions of adequacy."
"*You're planning to use the armor as a power source for the integration ritual,*" Aegerax realized, his mental voice carrying a mixture of admiration and the sort of concern that suggested he was reconsidering his life choices in bonding with someone whose approach to magical safety could charitably be described as 'optimistically reckless.' "*Clever, certainly, but also extraordinarily dangerous. If the power flow becomes unstable during the integration process, you could end up with anything from a complete magical cascade failure to a localized reality collapse. The fact that you'd be wearing the power source makes the whole endeavor rather more personal than I'm entirely comfortable with.*"
"*Which is why,*" Harry said with the sort of theatrical emphasis that suggested he was enjoying the dragon's growing concern, "I'm not planning to attempt this in the workshop. I'm many things—handsome, brilliant, devastatingly charming—but suicidal isn't one of them. The Peverell library has ritual spaces that were specifically designed for high-energy magical workings, with containment systems that should be able to handle whatever forces we're dealing with. Plus, if something does go catastrophically wrong, at least we won't take the entire mountain with us. Just the library. And possibly a small chunk of the surrounding countryside."
"*Your approach to risk management continues to be both practical and deeply unsettling,*" Aegerax observed with the sort of fond exasperation that suggested he was growing accustomed to his partner's unique relationship with personal safety. The mental equivalent of a long-suffering sigh colored his words. "*Though I suppose 'not destroying the mountain' is a reasonable minimum standard for magical experimentation. Very well—shall I assume you've already worked out the theoretical framework for this integration, or are we venturing into the realm of inspired improvisation based on untested hypotheses and your apparently unlimited confidence in your ability to make impossible things work through sheer force of personality?*"
"Bit of both, really," Harry admitted with a grin that would have made his old professors immediately begin composing their wills. His tone carried that perfect balance of confidence and acknowledgment of risk that had once convinced his friends to follow him into situations that any reasonable person would have avoided entirely. "The theoretical foundation is solid—Malachar's work provides the mathematical framework, Lysander's armor gives us the power supply that could probably light King's Landing for a decade, and the Cloak itself contains the necessary metaphysical properties for selective manifestation. But the actual integration process... well, that's going to be a matter of careful experimentation and hoping that my track record for surviving impossible magical feats continues to hold."
"*'Hoping your track record holds,'*" Aegerax repeated with the sort of dry humor that could have withered flowers at fifty paces. "*The man who has personally insulted Death, restructured fundamental magical artifacts, and somehow convinced the most magnificent dragon in existence to enter into partnership with him describes his approach as 'hoping his track record holds.' I suppose this is what passes for humility in your particular approach to reality manipulation.*"
"I prefer to think of it as realistic optimism," Harry replied cheerfully, already moving toward the door with the sort of purposeful energy that suggested he'd made up his mind and was ready to act on his decision immediately. "After all, false modesty is just another form of lying, and I've never been particularly good at that. Besides, you love it when I'm confident. Admit it—after centuries of dealing with brooding, angst-ridden Dragonlords who spoke only in portentous declarations and meaningful silences, you find my sparkling personality refreshingly entertaining."
"*Your 'sparkling personality' is going to be the death of me,*" Aegerax replied, though his mental voice carried unmistakable fondness beneath the mock complaint. The dragon's tone held that quality of warm affection that came from genuine respect and partnership. "*Though I admit, your approach to ancient magical traditions is... unique. Most Dragonlords would have spent the past month brooding magnificently while staring into flames and contemplating the weight of destiny. You've been making jokes and treating the reconstruction of legendary magical artifacts like an interesting academic exercise with potential for explosions.*"
"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds almost reasonable," Harry said with the sort of self-deprecating humor that managed to be both humble and confident at the same time. "Lead on, then. Let's see if we can successfully merge two legendary artifacts without accidentally discovering what happens when reality gets confused about whether I exist or not."
"*Inspired improvisation it is, then,*" Aegerax said with the sort of resigned amusement that suggested he was beginning to expect nothing less from their partnership. The mental voice carried warmth and anticipation despite the obvious potential for disaster. "*Lead on, young Peverell. Let us see if we can make history without accidentally rewriting the fundamental laws of magical physics in the process. Though I do hope you'll forgive me if I maintain what could charitably be described as a safe distance during the actual ritual—I'm quite fond of my current physical form and would prefer not to discover what happens to dragons caught in collapsing reality matrices.*"
The journey through the ruins to the Peverell library was familiar now, but Harry found himself seeing the ancient corridors with new appreciation. His enhanced vision picked out details in the stonework that would have been invisible to normal sight—runic sequences he could now read fluently, protective enchantments and structural reinforcements that had kept these passages intact through the Doom and the centuries that followed.
"The engineering is remarkable," he said as they walked, his voice carrying the sort of academic appreciation that would have made Hermione beam with pride. "These aren't just corridors—they're components in a vast magical machine, designed to channel and focus energy across the entire complex. The library isn't just a repository of knowledge—it's a ritual space on a scale that makes Hogwarts look like a garden shed with delusions of grandeur."
"*The Peverells were always ambitious in their architectural undertakings,*" Aegerax agreed, his mental voice carrying the sort of respectful appreciation that came from having witnessed the construction of these marvels in their original glory. The dragon's tone held that quality of someone sharing cherished memories. "*They understood that knowledge and power were intimately connected, that the spaces where magic was performed could influence the magic itself. The library you're approaching was designed to facilitate workings of unprecedented complexity and power—though I suspect even its creators never envisioned the sort of integration you're attempting. They were brilliant, but they thought in terms of conventional magical theory. You think in terms of 'what would happen if I ignored conventional wisdom and did something that sounds impossible?'*"
"I prefer to think of it as creative problem-solving," Harry replied with a grin that suggested he found the dragon's assessment more complimentary than critical. "After all, conventional wisdom is just another way of saying 'this is how we've always done things,' and that's never been a particularly compelling argument for someone who grew up being told that magic didn't exist by people who were demonstrably wrong about fundamental aspects of reality."
The library itself was a cathedral of knowledge that defied easy description—soaring ceilings that seemed to extend beyond normal three-dimensional space, shelves that climbed toward infinity in all directions, and crystal formations that grew from the walls like frozen lightning. Each crystal contained preserved spells and enchantments that pulsed with gentle light, creating a constellation of contained magic that filled the vast space with subtle radiance.
At the center of it all stood a circular platform of black stone, inscribed with runic arrays so complex they seemed to move when observed directly, creating patterns that existed partially outside normal perception.
"*Perfect,*" Aegerax breathed, his mental voice carrying genuine awe despite his centuries of experience with Valyrian magical architecture. The dragon's tone held that quality of someone who appreciated superior craftsmanship even when it came from a civilization he'd helped destroy. "*I can feel the power resonance from here—the magical field density in this space is extraordinary. Dense enough to make direct manipulation of reality not just possible, but relatively straightforward for someone with the proper knowledge and sufficient power. Though I should mention that the energy levels involved could be... intense. Are you certain your enhanced physiology can handle direct exposure to magical forces of this magnitude without experiencing some very interesting side effects?*"
"Only one way to find out," Harry replied with the sort of cheerful confidence that had once made his friends simultaneously inspired and terrified by his approach to problem-solving. He stepped onto the ritual platform, feeling the ancient stone respond to his presence with a thrum of power that resonated through his bones. The armor he wore began to glow more brightly, its crystalline components harmonizing with the platform's energy matrix in ways that suggested perfect compatibility.
"Right then," he said, pulling out the Invisibility Cloak and spreading it carefully across the ritual circle's central focus point. The fabric seemed to drink in the platform's violet radiance, becoming even more ethereal and otherworldly than usual. "Let's see if we can make history—or at least avoid making a crater where one of the most magnificent libraries in existence used to be."
"*Your approach to historical significance continues to be refreshingly pragmatic,*" Aegerax observed with dry humor that could have been delivered by Idris Elba at his most sardonic. The dragon's mental voice carried warmth beneath the mock criticism. "*Though I do hope that if we do make history, it's the sort that future generations will remember fondly rather than the sort that serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of ambitious magical experimentation. 'Here lies the Peverell Library, destroyed when the last Dragonlord decided to ignore several fundamental laws of magical physics because they seemed inconvenient.' Not exactly the legacy I was hoping for.*"
"Have a little faith," Harry said with mock offense, beginning to trace runic patterns in the air above the Cloak. His movements were precise and confident despite the unprecedented nature of what he was attempting. "When have I ever let you down? Don't answer that. The point is, I'm still here, you're still here, and we haven't accidentally destroyed any major architectural landmarks. Yet."
"*The 'yet' is what concerns me,*" Aegerax replied with the sort of fond exasperation that suggested he was torn between admiration for Harry's confidence and concern for his own continued existence. The dragon's mental voice carried that quality of someone who had learned to expect the impossible from his partner while still being surprised by the scope of what 'impossible' could encompass. "*Though I admit, your track record for surviving spectacular magical disasters is rather impressive. How many people can claim to have personally insulted Death and lived to brag about it?*"
"Not many, I'd imagine," Harry said with the sort of casual arrogance that managed to be charming rather than insufferable. "Though to be fair, Death was being rather unreasonable about the whole 'taking my friends' thing. Sometimes you have to stand up to cosmic forces that are having delusions of omnipotence."
The ritual patterns he drew were adapted from Malachar's reality-manipulation frameworks, but modified with modern runic theory and powered by Lysander's armor rather than the sort of soul-based energy sources that had ultimately corrupted his ancestor's work. As the magical constructs took shape in the air above the Cloak, the very atmosphere in the library began to change.
"*Extraordinary,*" Aegerax murmured as the air began to shimmer and bend, reality becoming malleable under the influence of forces that existed beyond normal physical law. The dragon's mental voice carried profound amazement tinged with something that might have been professional envy. "*The energy patterns you're generating... they're unlike anything I've seen before. It's as if you're negotiating with reality itself, convincing it to be more flexible about its fundamental properties rather than simply overpowering it through brute force.*"
The Invisibility Cloak began to dissolve into motes of silver light that spiraled upward like reverse rain, each particle containing a fragment of the artifact's essence and power. But instead of dispersing, the silver motes began to orbit around Harry's armored form, creating a galaxy of contained possibility that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"*The integration process is proceeding far more smoothly than I would have thought possible,*" Aegerax observed with growing wonder. His mental voice carried the sort of professional admiration that came from watching a master craftsman at work. "*It's as if the artifacts themselves want to be merged, as if this synthesis was always their intended final form. Though I suppose that makes sense—they were created by the same hands, shaped by the same vision, designed to work together even if their creators never envisioned this particular combination.*"
The sensation of the integration was unlike anything Harry had ever experienced—not painful, but profoundly transforming in ways that went beyond the merely physical. He could feel his magical signature changing as the Cloak's essence merged with Lysander's armor, the two forms of protection recognizing each other as complementary rather than competing forces.
"*Magnificent,*" Aegerax breathed as the silver motes completed their merger with the crimson and gold armor, creating something that transcended the sum of its parts. The dragon's mental voice carried genuine awe despite his centuries of experience with legendary magical artifacts. "*You've created something entirely new—protection that can adapt to any tactical situation, concealment that doesn't compromise combat effectiveness. The old Dragonlords would weep with envy if they could see what you've accomplished here.*"
When the ritual reached completion, Harry stood transformed in ways that were both subtle and profound. The armor still appeared to be the same crimson and gold masterwork he'd been wearing, but now it seemed to exist in a state of constant flux, its edges blurring slightly as if it existed partially outside normal space-time.
"It feels..." Harry paused, searching for words to describe the sensation. "Complete. Like all the pieces of a puzzle finally fitting together. I can feel the Cloak's power flowing through the armor's crystalline matrix, ready to be invoked at will. Watch this."
With a thought, he shifted into complete invisibility while maintaining all of the armor's protective properties. Then, with another mental command, he became selectively corporeal—visible to Aegerax but ethereal to the stone beneath his feet, his form ghosting through solid matter while remaining perfectly solid to his own touch.
"*Extraordinary,*" Aegerax said with genuine admiration as Harry demonstrated the armor's new capabilities. The dragon's mental voice carried the sort of professional appreciation that came from recognizing truly superior magical craftsmanship. "*You can extend the concealment effect to anything you touch, effectively bringing weapons, equipment, or allies into your sphere of selective manifestation. Most remarkably, you appear to be able to choose which aspects of reality you want to interact with on a moment-by-moment basis.*"
"The tactical applications are staggering," Harry agreed with obvious delight, experimenting with different combinations of visibility and corporeality. "I could be invisible to hostile magic while remaining fully solid to my own spells, or manifest just enough to fight while remaining ethereal to enemy attacks. It's like having a polite conversation with the fundamental laws of physics about which ones I feel like following at any given moment."
"*'Polite conversation with the laws of physics,'*" Aegerax repeated with the sort of amused disbelief that suggested he was still processing the scope of what they'd accomplished. His mental voice carried warmth tinged with genuine respect. "*Between the axe that could level cities, the saddle that will allow perfect coordination between us, and armor that makes you effectively immune to most forms of detection or attack, you're beginning to resemble something out of legend rather than merely someone who's rebuilt their ancestral heritage. Future historians are going to have a devil of a time believing the stories about what you've accomplished here.*"
"Then we'd better make sure those stories are worth telling," Harry replied with a grin that carried all the confidence and determination that had once convinced his friends to follow him into impossible situations. The expression was pure charismatic authority tempered by hard-won wisdom—the look of someone who had learned to face the impossible with both caution and unshakeable resolve. "After all, there's no point in rebuilding the legacy of the Dragonlords if we're not going to do something appropriately legendary with it."
"*Appropriately legendary,*" Aegerax repeated with the sort of fond exasperation that suggested he was both excited and slightly terrified by the possibilities. His mental voice carried that quality of warm anticipation that came from genuine partnership with someone whose definition of 'reasonable goals' tended toward the ambitious. "*Knowing your track record, that probably means we'll be facing down ancient evils, rescuing kingdoms, and rewriting the political landscape of entire continents before the year is out. I do hope you're prepared for the level of attention that sort of activity tends to attract. Legendary deeds have a way of creating legendary enemies to match.*"
"Looking forward to it," Harry said with the sort of anticipation that would have made his old professors immediately begin composing strongly worded letters to whatever passed for authorities in this realm. His emerald eyes with their distinctive violet flecks gleamed with the promise of adventures yet to come. "After all, what's the point of having legendary artifacts and impossible magical abilities if you don't use them to accomplish something worthy of the legend? Besides, I've got the best partner in the world—I'm not particularly worried about whatever opposition we might face."
"*The best partner in the world,*" Aegerax repeated with obvious pleasure, his mental voice carrying the sort of warm satisfaction that came from genuine mutual respect and affection. The dragon's tone held that quality of someone who had found exactly the sort of partnership he hadn't known he was looking for. "*Flattery will get you everywhere, young Dragonlord. Though I suppose after what we've accomplished together, a little mutual admiration is probably justified. We have, after all, successfully reconstructed legendary magical artifacts that most people believed were myths, created innovations that surpass anything the original Dragonlords achieved, and managed not to accidentally destroy ourselves in the process.*"
"Yet," Harry added with a grin that suggested he found the qualification more amusing than concerning.
"*Yet,*" Aegerax agreed with the sort of resigned fondness that suggested he was looking forward to discovering what new impossibilities they would attempt next. "*Though something tells me our definition of 'appropriate caution' may need some adjustment before we venture into the wider world. The forces we're dealing with now operate on scales that could affect entire kingdoms, and I suspect we'll need to be rather more careful about the scope of our experiments once we're no longer isolated in these ruins.*"
"Probably wise," Harry agreed cheerfully. "Though I should point out that my track record for 'appropriate caution' has been somewhat questionable since approximately age eleven. I'm hoping that wisdom and experience will compensate for my natural tendency to charge headfirst into situations that would make reasonable people reconsider their life choices."
"*A reasonable hope,*" Aegerax said with the sort of diplomatic generosity that suggested he had his own opinions about the relative contributions of wisdom versus luck in Harry's previous achievements. The dragon's mental voice carried fond amusement beneath the mock concern. "*Though perhaps we should consider establishing some basic guidelines for our future adventures. Something along the lines of 'try not to reshape entire civilizations before lunch' or 'avoid creating magical innovations that could accidentally end the world as we know it.' Modest goals, really.*"
"Modest goals," Harry repeated with the sort of serious consideration that suggested he was actually thinking about the implications of wielding power on the scale they were discussing. "You know, that's probably not a bad idea. Power without purpose becomes meaningless at best, destructive at worst. If we're going to carry on the legacy of the Dragonlords, we should probably do it better than they did."
"*A noble sentiment,*" Aegerax agreed, his mental voice carrying genuine respect for Harry's thoughtful approach to the responsibilities that came with their capabilities. The dragon's tone held that quality of someone who appreciated wisdom paired with power. "*Though I suspect the real challenge will be maintaining that perspective when faced with situations that seem to demand immediate action. Your tendency toward heroic intervention is both admirable and potentially problematic when you're wielding forces that could reshape the political landscape of entire continents.*"
"Then I suppose we'll have to learn as we go," Harry said with the sort of determined optimism that had once convinced his friends that impossible odds were merely interesting challenges waiting to be overcome. "After all, nobody ever said reshaping the destiny of dragons and men would be easy. But that's what makes it worth doing."
In the depths below the library, something that had once been Malachar Peverell stirred with growing interest as the resonance of successful integration rippled through the ancient stones. The ritual had been flawless, the result exceeded even the most optimistic projections, and the young inheritor continued to demonstrate capabilities that transcended anything the original Dragonlords had achieved.
But more intriguing still was the conversation he could hear echoing through the stone—talk of responsibility, of purpose, of using power wisely rather than simply wielding it effectively. Such thoughts were... unexpected from someone who had just successfully performed reality manipulation on a scale that most magical theorists would consider impossible.
Perhaps it was time for a proper introduction. After all, such innovation deserved appropriate recognition, and perhaps... proper guidance from someone who understood the true scope of what was possible when certain limitations were set aside. The young Dragonlord showed promise—more promise than any Peverell since the Doom. With the proper encouragement, they might achieve wonders that would make even a thousand years of patient evolution seem crude by comparison.
Soon. Very soon.
But for now, there was the simple pleasure of watching potential unfold into reality, of seeing the Peverell legacy reclaimed by someone who might—with the proper guidance—prove worthy of its most carefully guarded secrets.
The game was becoming more interesting by the moment, and the stakes were rising to levels that would reshape the world itself.
---
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