Harry POV*
The Black Family Library smelled of dust, leather, and old wood, as if the air itself remembered centuries of whispered spells.
Candles flickered along the walls, their light dancing on spines gilded in silver and gold.
I sat at a broad oak desk, parchments scattered around me, his quill tapping irritably against an open tome on blood rituals.
"Three drops of dragon's blood to fortify the mind," I muttered, flipping a page. "Seven strands of hair for a binding. Sacrifice of life essence for permanence." My jaw tightened. "All of it is recipes. Not one wizard actually asked: what is magic itself?"
I leaned back, frustrated, running a hand through my hair.
The room was silent except for the steady ticking of the old grandfather clock.
"Wizards treat magic like a tool," I said aloud, my voice echoing softly. "Swing it, bash something, done. No wonder they plateau. They've never asked the only question that matters."
My hand clenched around his quill. "What is magic?"
That night, long after Sirius had retired and the house fell into creaking silence, I sat cross-legged on the library floor.
In meditation.
I had cleared a space between stacks of ritual books, a single candle burning in front of him.
The words of a life long gone surfaced, words he had not thought about in years.
[I am not the mind, nor the intellect, nor the ego, nor the memory.
I am not the senses, nor the body, nor the breath.]
Nirvana Shatkam. The hymn of Adi Shankaracharya.
I had studied it once as a boy in another world, believing it was only philosophy.
But here, in a world where will shaped reality, the verses felt alive, dangerous, powerful.
Sanskrit is used for magic after all.
I closed his eyes.
[Chidananda Rupa Shivoham Shivoham.
(english)- I am consciousness. I am bliss. I am Shiva.(that which is not)...]
The words weren't prayer. They were identity.
At first, his thoughts scattered snatches of Hogwarts, Voldemort's laughter, Dursleys neglect. But slowly, as I breathed, they thinned like mist under sunlight.
I whispered:
"I am not this body. I am not this wand. I am not even this mind."
Something inside him snapped, and then… expanded.
The library dissolved. I wasn't sitting on a floor. I wasn't sitting at all. I was a spark suspended in an endless ocean of light.
Magic wasn't outside him, it wasn't something to be channeled or invoked. It was me. It was everything.
Every spell I had ever cast was just crude shapes drawn on the surface of a vast sea.
But I was the sea.
When my eyes snapped open, the candle flame before him flared bright white, stretching high, before settling into a steady glow. The air thrummed.
Every rune in the books around him shivered, as if recognizing a greater authority.
I exhaled slowly. my skin tingled with a low hum, my magic flowing not like a forced river through a dam but like sunlight spilling naturally across the world.
I rose to his feet, raising my wand. With a thought, he whispered, "Lumos."
Light burst forth, not from the wand, but from me.
My entire body glowed faintly, like the candle had moved inside his chest.
I no longer need a wand. Its just for show now.
I laughed softly, giddy and calm all at once. "So that's it. Magic isn't a tool. It's the self, expressed."
The realization settled deep: my spells would be sharper, faster, more instinctive. But more than that, I had touched something beyond, an anchor of clarity, of reality.
The world couldn't shake me now.
Not dementors, not dark lords, not even my own fear.
And for the first time, I, Harry Potter, felt truly, terrifyingly free.
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Sirius POV*
Morning sunlight slanted into Grimmauld Place's kitchen, catching the steam rising from a pot of tea.
Sirius sprawled at the table in his usual half-awake, half-dramatic way, idly stirring sugar into his cup.
Remus sat opposite, already neat, already with a quill scratching notes in a slim notebook.
Harry walked in.
That was it. No grand entrance, no booming announcement.
But Sirius's spoon clinked hard against the rim of his cup, and Remus's quill paused mid-word.
It was in the way the room felt like the air was denser, sharper, vibrating just under the edge of perception.
"Morning," Harry said casually, tugging an apple from the bowl.
He bit into it, crunch loud in the quiet kitchen.
Sirius blinked at him. "You look… taller. Did you grow overnight?"
Harry smirked, settling into a chair. "That's usually how growing works, Sirius. At night."
Remus's eyes narrowed, thoughtful. "Not taller," he corrected slowly. "Different. Your—" He hesitated, searching for the word. "—presence is stronger."
"Presence?" Harry echoed innocently, raising his brows. "I'm just eating an apple."
But Sirius was staring, really staring, as though Harry were casting a silent spell without moving. "No, Moony's right. It's… bloody hell, it's like you walked in carrying a storm on your shoulders. What did you do last night?"
Harry shrugged. "Studied. Meditated. Slept. Normal things." He wiped juice from his lip with the back of his hand. "Maybe I'm just having a good hair day."
Remus didn't laugh. His amber eyes followed Harry, measuring. There was no outward spell, no trace of a charm.
Yet the teacup in front of Harry quivered faintly, ripples shivering across the surface without him touching it.
"Magic's drawn to you," Remus said finally. "Like metal to a lodestone."
Sirius let out a low whistle, grinning now in that reckless, Black-family way. "Well, well. Our boy's leveling up."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not a Quidditch stat card, Sirius."
"Could've fooled me." Sirius leaned forward, smirking. "You've got that same air James used to get after pulling off something stupidly brilliant. But you—" He gestured vaguely. "—you've gone and multiplied it by ten."
Harry bit another piece of apple, feigning nonchalance while inwardly testing the hum in his veins.
His magic obeyed without effort now, small sparks flaring against his skin just beneath sight, calming only when he focused.
He caught Remus still watching. The man's expression wasn't of fear, it was respect, and perhaps unease at the unknown.
Harry swallowed, then said, light as ever, "Guess I'm just… getting comfortable in my own skin."
Remus hummed, unconvinced but unwilling to press.
Sirius only grinned wider. Little genius did something.
The kitchen felt smaller, warmer. As though Harry had become the quiet center of gravity, and they hadn't yet realized they were already orbiting him.
The days that followed passed quickly.
Grimmauld Place had never felt so alive, my laughter echoing down halls once filled only with dust and portraits, Remus steady as ever, guiding Harry's studies with calm precision.
And yet, beneath the warmth of meals shared and evenings spent in animated debate, something else lingered.
The subtle weight of Harry's new presence never faded.
Sometimes Sirius caught himself staring when Harry wasn't looking, reminded of James but… more.
Sometimes Remus woke in the night with the faint memory of wards humming differently, as though they bent toward the boy asleep down the hall.
But Harry gave them nothing. He studied, sparred, teased, and lived as though nothing had shifted at all.
-----------------------------------------
Harry POV*
Its that time again. Diagon ally shopping.
With me are Weasley family, molly and Arthur are discussing the budget, Percy checking his clothes for wrinkles, Fed and George are whispering something about new exploding snaps launched at zonko's.
The brick wall folded open, revealing Diagon Alley in all its noise and color.
Shops spilled light across the cobblestones, owls hooted from perches, cauldrons clanged as a wizard demonstrated self-stirring models.
Why do our resident dungeon bet never let us use those? something to think about.
The scent of parchment, cauldrons, and something vaguely like strawberry filled the air.
Sirius stretched his arms wide, grinning like a man who owned the place.
"Right, everyone," he said, voice loud enough to startle passing shoppers. "Stick with me. Kids, Don't get lost, don't touch anything alive that might bite, and Harry, don't humiliate any more fake celebrities today, eh?"
I smirked. "No promises."
The Weasley kids scattered instantly, twins leading the charge. Fred pointed at a display of exploding snap cards. "Oi, George, that's new!"
George grabbed a handful. "Bet it won't explode in your face this time."
Ginny hung close to Molly, peeking nervously at a shelf of miniature cauldrons.
Ron, meanwhile, lagged behind with his father, clutching a notebook. "Dad, I think I need a new wand, Charlie's one is not for me."
Arthur adjusted his glasses, peering into the window of Ollivanders. "Ah yes, very important, wand for you Ron. One must choose wisely."
"Yeah, yeah," Ron muttered, shoving the notebook into his bag. He shot a glance at me. "Wish I had your luck with wands."
I gave a lazy shrug. "Luck? No. Just observation. You feel the wand. It feels you. Works both ways."
Not that I need a wand anymore.
Sirius snorted. "Lucky for you, I brought the family budget." He waved his hand, and a pouch of Galleons nearly the size of a cauldron jingled.
Fred and George converged on Harry. "Oi, mate, are you buying our stuff too?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Sirius and I have you covered. Don't spend it all on fireworks."
"Too late," George grinned, already tossing a box of Skiving Snackboxes into his bag.
-----------------------------------------
Percy, impeccably dressed and straighter than a broomstick, approached me cautiously. "Excuse me, Harry, but are you—"
"Covering Ron's wand?" I cut in smoothly, leaning back against a post. "Already done. You'll manage your own, Percy. Think of it as character building."
Percy's mouth twitched. "I suppose I can handle that." He swept past, notebook in hand, jotting notes furiously.
Hermione clutched Emma's arm. "Don't touch that! Mom, careful!"
Emma blinked. "Why is it so… lively?"
I crouched to whisper to Hermione. "Welcome to the world your parents didn't quite know existed."
Dan grinned, peering into a window of enchanted quills. "I take it this is… normal for wizards?"
I shrugged. "Depends on the family."
Sirius grinned at Dan and Emma. "Stick with us long enough, you'll be fine. Might lose your lunch in the process, though."
Hermione rolled her eyes, tugging me forward.
"Right," Molly said briskly, ushering Ginny forward. "We'll start with Flourish and Blotts before the rush."
Sirius arched a brow at me. "Bet you five galleons Lockhart's plastered himself across the windows."
"Not taking that bet," I replied. "Too obvious."
Sure enough, Flourish and Blotts was mobbed.
A massive sign screamed: "Gilderoy Lockhart Signing Today!" Posters of a grinning blond wizard winked and flashed dazzling smiles from every wall.
"Oh no," Hermione breathed, half in horror, half in excitement.
"Oh yes," I muttered darkly.
Inside, chaos reigned. Witches shoved each other for signed copies, children squealed, and in the center stood Lockhart himself, teeth shining brighter than the chandeliers.
"Merlin's armpit," Sirius groaned. "I can smell the vanity from here."
I pushed forward, weaving through the crowd until Lockhart spotted me.
"Harry Potter!" Lockhart bellowed, throwing out his arms. The crowd shrieked. "Together we'll make the front page of the Daily Prophet!"
Before I could react, Lockhart yanked me close, one arm clamped around my shoulders.
Quills scratched furiously as photographers surged forward.
I give a deadpanned look into the flashes. "You're crushing my spine."
Lockhart laughed as though it were a joke. "Such humor! Such charm! Truly, the mark of a hero!"
Sirius raised his wand lazily, muttering to Remus, "One Stinging Hex to the backside and he'll let go."
But I had my own plan. I turned to Lockhart, voice pitched just loud enough for the reporters.
"So, you've done all these dangerous adventures, right? Defeated banshees, vampires, and trolls?"
"Why, yes—"
"Funny," I interrupted. "Because I checked. Every creature you 'defeated' is still alive and healthy. Some even testified at Ministry hearings. Odd, isn't it?"
The crowd froze. A few heads turned, whispers already starting.
Lockhart's smile twitched. "Ah—well, you see, young Harry—"
I slipped smoothly from his grip, brushing off my robes. "I don't need your books. I prefer facts to fairy tales."
The silence broke into murmurs.
Sirius clapped slow and loud, smirking like a cat in wool.
Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to smile.
Lockhart stammered, desperate, "Autographed copies—half off—!"
"Still overpriced," I said cheerfully, heading for the door.
Hermione followed, torn between mortification and admiration. "Harry, you didn't have to—"
"Yes, I did," I cut in. "That man is a fraud with better hair than sense."
The crowd thinned outside, and that's when they saw them: Lucius Malfoy, pale and sharp in black robes, striding past with Draco at his side.
Arthur Weasley bristled instantly.
"Malfoy," he muttered.
"Arthur," Lucius said smoothly, eyes gliding over the group. His gaze lingered on Sirius. "Well, well. A Black crawling out of his hole."
Sirius smirked dangerously. "Careful, cousin. I bite."
Lucius's lips curled faintly before shifting to Arthur. "Still mingling with Mudbloods, I see."
Dan Granger stiffened, Emma's hand tightening on his arm. Hermione's eyes flashed.
I stepped forward before Arthur could explode.
"Funny," I said coolly. "For a man who worships bloodlines, you spend a lot of time kissing the boots of a half-blood Dark Lord."
Lucius's eyes snapped to him, cold fury barely veiled.
But before he could respond, Arthur lost his temper.
"Keep your mouth shut, Malfoy!" Arthur roared, shoving him.
The scuffle broke out instantly robes flailing, Ginny squealing, Ron trying to drag his father back.
Sirius hooted with laughter. "That's it, Arthur! Right hook next!"
Amid the chaos, I saw it the flick of Lucius's wrist, the casual slip of a small black diary into Ginny's cauldron.
'There you are' I thought darkly.
I moved quickly, stepping in as though to steady Ginny. "Here, let me carry that for you," he said lightly, lifting the cauldron himself.
Lucius's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he turned away, tugging Draco with him.
Arthur and Lucius were separated by the crowd, both fuming, while Molly scolded Arthur viciously.
Sirius was still laughing. "Worth every second. I'd pay to see a rematch."
I kept his face calm, but inside my hand tightened on the cauldron's handle.
I already knew. This wasn't an ordinary book. Not at all.
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Yea you think I forgot about him being an indian??
Advaita Vedanta is a major school of Hindu philosophy that teaches the non-dual nature of reality.
its one of the most respected philosiphies which is being popular among new generation.
I hope this doesnt trun off people.
See ya!!
-Nine11P2