(Harry's POV*)
Hogwarts life rolled on as if nothing extraordinary was happening, at least for everyone else.
For me, it was like a rhythm: Breezing thorugh classes, laughter with my bois, and the echo of chamber humming in his mind every night.
In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall watched from her desk as I flicked my wand and murmured, "Reparifarge."
The half transfigured quill on my desk shimmered, twisted awkwardly, and with a soft pop, turned back into the beetle it had once been, scuttling away across the tabletop.
I reversed the process again, smoothly, perfectly, no hesitation, no wasted motion.
McGonagall didn't say anything. She just gave that small, tight nod she used when words weren't enough, the kind that said she'd stopped trying to measure what I could do.
Ron leaned over from the next desk and whispered, "Blimey, mate, you make it look like breathing, at what time will I be able to do the same?"
I smirked. "Maybe you're just holding your breath too long, as for your second question I'll jut sat "practice"."
Hermione looked up from her notes, quill poised mid air. "Or maybe you're showing off again, as usual."
"Moi?" I raised a brow in mock offense. "Hermione, I'm merely demonstrating proper technique for the educational benefit of my peers."
Ron snorted. "Educational, my arse."
I grinned. "Language, mate. We're in a classroom."
The bell rang, and the room dissolved into chatter and scraping chairs.
Lunch in the Great Hall was the same as ever, plates clinking, laughter bouncing off the enchanted ceiling, pumpkin juice everywhere, this thing has grown up to me, everything in hogwarts tastes better then everywhere.
Hermione had her Charms notes spread between the mashed potatoes and treacle tart, and Ron was halfway through a very serious discussion about the Cannons' defensive lineup.
"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said, exasperated, "you talk about Quidditch like it's a religion."
"That's because it is," I cut in before Ron could reply. "We just don't have commandments. Only penalties."
Hermione rolled her eyes, muttering "of course"
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When classes ended, we slipped into the old abandoned classroom, our unofficial training spot.
What was once Dusty windows, creaky floors, has transformed into a useable room with enough space to blow something up without Filch noticing for a few hours.
The group had grown a lot. Dean and Seamus were dueling near the back, sparks and explosion flying between desks.
Megumin would cry with joy seeing this.
Parvati and Lavender were huddled over a stack of parchment, arguing about wand movements and hair charms at the same time.
Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott were practicing shield spells near the windows, their magic forming faint, shaky domes of light.
And Luna, well, Luna drifted in like she always did, eyes wide and dreamy, humming something that probably only made sense to her.
Luna was the literal embodiment of fairy energy.
She had flowers tucked in her hair and was tracing invisible patterns in the air with her wand.
A lovely girl.
I leaned against a desk, arms crossed, mostly watching.
Ron was trying to help Seamus adjust his stance while Hermione took notes and occasionally corrected both of them.
Susan called out, "Harry, can you show us that counter curse again? The one for sticking charms?"
I nodded and drew my wand lazily. A soft flick, no words.
The air rippled, and the adhesive charm on her sleeve dissolved cleanly.
"Thanks," she said, blinking. "That looked… effortless."
"Because it was," I replied before I could stop myself.
Hannah laughed. "Show off."
"Confidence," I corrected, smirking.
Parvati piped up from the corner, "You make it look like you were born doing this."
"I was not," I said.
Luna tilted her head. "You were. Everyone's born doing magic, most just forget how."
The room went quiet for a moment, everyone half unsure if she was joking.
I met her eyes, she wasn't. I smiled faintly. "Well said, Luna."
Hermione gave me that look, the one that said behave. "Harry, maybe… tone it down a bit? You don't need to show everything you can do."
I arched a brow. "What, you mean like Room of Requirement training levels?"
She sighed. "Exactly that. You nearly made Ron's wand explode last time."
Ron grinned. "To be fair, it was worth it. I can actually cast without burning my sleeve now."
"That's called progress," I said, smirking.
Seamus looked between us. "So… is this what you lot do for fun? Just casually make the rest of us feel untalented?"
I shrugged. "Pretty much."
He groaned. "Brilliant."
Hermione sat down beside me, exhaling. "You know, if you keep flexing like that, people will start talking."
"They already talk," I said, twirling my wand. "Might as well give them something accurate."
Ron snorted. "Modest as ever."
"Always," I said with a grin.
A little later, Susan tried a new defensive spell and ended up sending sparks across the room.
Luna clapped dreamily. "That was lovely. Very expressive."
Hannah ducked behind her. "Expressive? She nearly set my robes on fire!"
"Art demands risk," Luna replied serenely.
By the end, everyone was sweaty, laughing, and tired except me.
I just watched them, correcting wand angles, refining gestures, adjusting focus.
Teaching them wasn't about showing power. It was about giving them a chance to survive and maybe, just maybe, to grow into their own.
Hermione caught my eye as we packed up. "You're still holding back, aren't you?"
I smiled faintly. "never saw the need to go all out."
If I don't reveal my power as the time goes on, It will be difficult for you guys to digest to show what kind of being I would have become.
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(Harry's POV*)
As soon as the tower lights dimmed, I slipped under my Invisibility Cloak.
Muffliato. Disillusionment. Odor Abolens.
Silence. Invisibility. Scentlessness. Every trace of me is gone.
This is getting tedious, need to start studying portals.
The familiar whisper left my lips, soft and sibilant. "Open."
The sink shuddered, sliding aside like stone responding to breath.
I stepped in, the world turning into darkness and descent, until the Chamber welcomed me again.
Only this time, I didn't walk.
I floated, a few inches off the ground, guided by my newest runic array. Magnetic polarity carved into the soles of my shoes and fingertips, the equilibrium shifting with every twitch of intent.
I'd been experimenting with it for a week, and now the movement was smooth silent, elegant, effortless.
sure I could fly with my magic, not like voldy but through instinct and I don't have to worry about magic depletion, I practically have infinite through environment, but what about others?
I want to take magical to their peak, this is my way, through innovation, with my invention and in the long run I'll control the world.
Though that's still far away, anyway.
The Chamber, though, looked far less so. The walls were slick with moisture, the serpent carvings dim with decay, and the constant drip-drip-drip echoed like a dying heartbeat.
I grimaced. "Let's fix that, shall we?"
A few sweeping gestures, runes drawn in the air with faint trails of blue light. I willed, Tergeo, Lucernae, Ordinare.
The spells rippled outward, water vanishing, grime dissolving, torches reigniting in a rhythmic sequence down the length of the hall.
The Chamber of Secrets no, my Chamber now came alive. The mosaics gleamed, emerald stone shimmering like liquid glass, the carved serpents glinting with new polish.
What had once been a tomb now looked like a sanctum quiet, dignified, ancient but awake.
I drifted forward until I reached the resting alcove behind Salazar's statue.
The basilisk egg still pulsed within its stasis field, faintly green and impossibly alive.
I crouched, placing a hand on the shimmering surface. The magic thrummed faintly beneath my palm, responding like a heartbeat.
"Soon," I whispered. "Soon I'll wake you when I'm sure I can handle you."
The egg's glow flickered once, as if it understood.
I turned toward the newly restored study, the secret chamber behind the pillar that only opened to Parseltongue.
The torches flared automatically when I entered, golden light reflecting off copper rune plates and parchment scrolls spread across the desk.
Rúnatal. The heading was etched across the main scroll in fluid Old Norse script. The Song of Power.
These weren't spells they were thoughts given form. Equations of emotion, intention, and will, bound by symbols older than written words. I was no longer learning magic.
I was learning how magic itself thought.
Hours passed or maybe minutes. Time lost meaning when I worked. My wand danced, tracing lines of power through the air, each rune breathing softly with light as I tested new constructs.
Ventus Motus. My attempt at pure air manipulation , runic acceleration. If brooms used enchantment to fly, I would use direct force, magic and motion woven together.
Silencio Runica. A sound-suppression circle that masked everything within without leaving a traceable signature. Useful for sneaking, dueling, surviving.
I don't need it, but my friends will.
I looked up at the glowing runes floating before me, my reflection mirrored in their soft light.
"Scutum Resonare was the shield," I murmured, tracing the air with my wandtip. "Now I build the sword."
The runes pulsed in response, a promise, a challenge, a living idea waiting to be born.
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The Chamber was quiet except for the hiss of torchlight and the low hum of wards.
I'd been staring at the swirling runic diagrams for hours, tracing lines between Rúnatal symbols and Arithmantic vectors until my head throbbed.
Apparition.
Instant travel by folding space through intent. The Ministry called it "spatial compression." But the runes hinted at something deeper a vibration of place.
If space is an illusion of perception, I thought, then distance is just stubborn imagination.
Using Slytherin's rune for connection and the Norse symbol for path, I began building a lattice of light in the air.
A single glyph pulsed gold, then blue, then vanished.
Nothing.
The next night, I refined the alignment added a rune of reflection, forming a loop rather than a line. When I fed it magic, the air rippled.
The floor shimmered like heated glass and—
a circle opened, showing my dormitory on the other side.
I froze.
It was small, unstable, edges flickering like candlelight, but it was there a doorway through reality.
I threw a pebble. It vanished into the glow and landed on my bed upstairs.
My laugh echoed through the Chamber.
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The following week, I refined the spell every night. Each iteration drained magic like Fiendfyre did, but the pattern grew smoother.
I no longer needed a flat wall, just a focus point and intent.
When I drew the runes in the air and poured power through them, twin rings of light appeared, linked across distance.
One shimmered before me in the Chamber; the other hung over the Black Lake, stars reflecting through it.
Stepping through felt like walking into a ripple. Cold air, then water scent, then freedom.
"Dr. Strange would be proud," I murmured to myself, grinning.
By the sixth night, the portals no longer flickered. The rune set burned in my memory, Via Mente, the Path of Mind.
It wasn't Apparition.
It was thought-anchored translocation: a mental wormhole.
It drained enormous power from the environment rather than my body, proof that my connection to magic's flow had become nearly infinite.
When I closed the portal, the air snapped with ozone, leaving behind a faint aurora glow.
In my notebook I scrawled:
["Via Mente — Runic Translocation.
Combines Apparition's spatial folding with Slytherin's connection glyph.
Anchored by will, stabilized by continuous magical flux.
Risk: Spatial bleed, temporal drag.
Success rate: 82% (and one near-drowning).
— H.P."]
I sealed the notes with a privacy charm.
No one else could know, not yet.
The spell wasn't ready, and the world wasn't ready either.
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On the seventh night, something went wrong.
I had linked the Chamber to the Astronomy Tower, testing long range stability. The portal shimmered beautifully, wide enough to walk through without ducking. I stepped forward.
Halfway through, the air rippled. My vision blurred, and for a heartbeat, I saw the same tower under a different sky brighter, untouched by centuries.
Then it snapped back, and I stumbled through.
Panting, I realized what had happened.
"Temporal echo," I whispered. "The portal doesn't just fold space… it grazes time."
Of course, space-time is bound.
That terrified me. Time was not to be trifled with even Slytherin's notes warned of "chronal bleed." Still, I couldn't resist documenting it.
[Note 47: Portal drifted 0.7 seconds backward. Possible time dilation within fold.
Conclusion: Time and space threads are entangled in translocation.]
On the eighth night, a familiar whoosh of flame startled me.
Fawkes appeared, trilling softly, wings shedding sparks.
"Hey, boy," I said, wiping sweat. "You shouldn't be down here."
He landed beside the runic array and sang a clear, rising note that made the glowing lines stabilize. The portal flicker vanished.
My eyes widened.
"Of course… phoenix song resonates in perfect harmony with magic. It's pure will."
just like my magic, of course the answer was this all along.
Using his note as a reference, I etched a new rune for Harmony, and the effect was immediate, the portal stabilized effortlessly, its edges clean, almost mirror-smooth.
I smiled.
"Thank you, Fawkes. You just solved my entropy problem."
Fawkes trilled once, preened his feathers, and vanished again in a burst of gold.
With the new runic array Path, Connection, Harmony, Reflection I prepared my boldest test yet: linking Hogwarts to Godric's Hollow.
The magical strain was monstrous. The ground vibrated, air thick with ozone.
Then the reality tore open.
Through the circle, moonlight poured from a quiet graveyard.
For a moment, I stood on the threshold, one foot in the Chamber, one in my old village.
Wind blew through both places at once. The sensation was indescribable.
I stepped through, heart pounding, and appeared in the graveyard without a sound.
I could feel the magic maintaining the link, fragile but stable.
"Via Mente… the Path of Mind," I whispered. "It works."
When I returned, the portal collapsed into a rain of silver light.
I laughed quietly, exhausted, exhilarated.
[Runic Integration Successful
Runes used: Path, Connection, Harmony, Reflection, Intent
Power Source: External magical field resonance
Limitation: Requires strong ambient magic for long-distance travel
Notes: Fawkes' song = perfect stabilizer; phoenix resonance aligns with Harmony rune
Side Effect: Possible temporal drift (0.3–0.7 sec)
Naming finalized: Via Mente, Runic Translocation Gate]
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As he cleaned up, he caught his reflection in the pool of still water beneath Slytherin's statue.
Dark circles rimmed his eyes; faint sparks of residual magic flickered across his skin.
He chuckled softly.
"Hermione would kill me if she knew I was warping space-time in a sewer, or well before it changed it."
He turned to the sealed chamber wall, tracing the snake sigil with a finger.
"Slytherin… you were centuries ahead. But I'll go further."
The runes glowed faintly at his touch, as if the founder himself approved.
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Tell me how you like the portal thing, I took inspiration from portal 2 game and marvel mystic arts.
also if you have any questions feel free to comment,I'll answer it in the next chapter which wil be........
A Q&A!!!.
See ya!!
-Nine11P2