(Harry's POV*)
I'd stopped counting hours.
Down here, time didn't matter only rhythm.
Breath, runes, spell, repeat.
The Chamber had become both my laboratory and my meditation hall.
The floor was a galaxy of runes now, each one glowing like a faint star. Lines of light connected them in slow, steady pulses that matched my heartbeat.
Every flicker meant progress… or failure.
My portals still weren't right.
They worked, technically but they were inefficient. Sloppy.
They suck magic more then your mum suck ma*cough*, sorry I mean they drain magic like crazy, even with Fawkes's Harmony rune stabilizing the core.
If not for my infinite magic, and ley lines in Hogwarts I would have died several times for magical exhaustion.
The energy dispersion alone could light up the castle on the magical radar if anyone ever checked.
Too big. Too messy. Too loud.
I wanted elegance.
I wanted control.
I wanted something portable, a portal that could fold into my palm, open like a thought, and close before anyone even realized it had been there.
Not power for destruction. Power for precision.
Something that was mine alone.
I studied the runic pattern again, Path, Connection, Harmony, Reflection, Intent.
It worked… but the energy feedback was linear.
The portal opened between fixed points, not between states of being.
"If Apparition breaks you down and reassembles you through space," I muttered, "then runes can do it better. Not destruction but translation."
I reached for Slytherin's notes. The parchment was ancient, filled with theories about "transcending form through intent."
I combined that with modern Arithmancy especially the Wave-Field Principle of spell movement and slowly began to rewrite the array.
I replaced Connection with Unity, the rune of merging will and location.
Then modified Reflection into Echo, representing the universe's feedback loop.
The resulting symbol pulsed faintly, almost as if alive.
"No portal. No fold. Just a shift of frequency."
I stood in the center of the array, eyes closed.
I pictured the Gryffindor common room , the smell of fireplace ash, the creak of old wood, the precise feel of the air there.
Then I spoke softly, not in Latin, but in pure intent.
"Via Mentis."
The world folded in on itself, not violently, not like Apparition's ripping tug, but smoothly, like silk sliding through my fingers.
One heartbeat later, I opened my eyes to the flicker of the common room fire.
No sound. No flash. No burn of magical exhaustion.
Just… being.
My breath stopped. I turned in a full circle, touching the familiar walls.
Then, with a grin, I focused back on the Chamber and whispered again:
"Via Mentis."
Reality blurred, and I was standing beneath Slytherin's stone face once more.
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I repeated the process dozens of times that night, refining the spell.
Each jump grew cleaner, faster, quieter.
By dawn, I could cross the castle in under a second, my magic barely depleted.
I added safety measures.
the spell would refuse to activate if the destination was blocked by a solid surface or if I wasn't fully conscious.
My notes read like a scientist's manifesto:
[Via Mentis – The Path of Mind
Mechanism: Runic phase shift aligning user's magical signature with spatial resonance of target location.
Energy Cost: Minimal if location is well known and magically mapped.
Risks: None observed. Splinching impossible because the spell relies on conscious projection, not physical reassembly.
Derived From: Rúnatal + Arithmantic Frequency Equation (A.F.E.)
Alias: "The Trump Card."]
That night, as I sat by the basilisk's skeleton beneath the Chamber's cold glow, I smiled faintly at my open notebook.
"No more limitations," I whispered. "No more cages, magical or otherwise."
The runes shimmered softly, echoing my words.
Via Mentis — the Path of Mind.
A spell that could take me anywhere, silently, perfectly, without a trace.
A spell that would one day decide the outcome of wars.
My trump card.
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The next night, the Chamber's stone floor was lined with glowing runic circles.
I had cleared a wide area enough for spell duels, elemental bursts, and something more dangerous:
time dilation fields.
I wasn't just experimenting anymore.
I was training the spell for battle.
I marked a shimmering boundary, the perimeter of my testing arena, and conjured three animated dummies from enchanted basalt.
Each one was imbued with offensive routines from future Lockhart's "Dueling Club" curriculum, except these were… actually competent.
As the first dummy raised its wand and fired a streak of Reducto, I didn't block.
I blinked out of existence, appearing behind it, wand already humming with energy.
"Via Mentis… reaction time: 0.37 seconds," I murmured, deflecting another curse mid-turn.
A second dummy fired a chain of hexes. I snapped a wrist; Scutum Resonare flared.
The dummy's own Stinging Hex ricocheted perfectly back, blasting its chest to dust.
"Feedback stable. Harmonized response with teleport frequency confirmed," I muttered, jotting runic data in the air with a spell that left glowing notes.
Then I tested the combo:
Teleport → Shield → Counterblast
Feint Teleport → Decoy Illusion → Disarm
I refined it until the entire fight looked like a dance, flicker, flash, vanish, reappear, movement guided by thought alone.
By the twentieth repetition, I no longer whispered the incantation.
The spell now was stable and responded to intent alone, the final sign of true spell.
I didn't need this. I could have brute-forced this with my instinct and magic.
But this isn't for me alone.
This is for my Legacy.
My future family.
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I sat cross legged afterward, breathing slowly, feeling for magical depletion, stopping passive absorption of magic.
Normally, three Apparitions could leave even seasoned wizards light headed.
But Via Mentis used barely more power than Lumos.
"Spatial folding through harmonic resonance…" I whispered, tracing a sigil in the air. "If magic is sound, this spell is music."
I looked at the runic inscriptions on the wall, half amused.
"Slytherin, you would've liked this."
To push limits, I layered multiple Scutum Resonare shields, one reflecting, one absorbing, one refracting.
Then I teleported between them at near lightning speed, forcing my magic to sync in real time.
Each move left a faint afterimage, ripples of distorted air.
By synchronizing my shields with Via Mentis, I created what my notes called:
Resonant Phase Defense,
a state where I could be both there and not there for a fraction of a second, letting attacks pass through harmlessly.
When one stray blast hit the wall and melted stone, I just smirked.
"Yeah, definitely not teaching this to anyone."
The final experiment was the riskiest.
Time distortion.
I had once read in the Restricted Section from ROR that energy flux at teleportation thresholds could bend temporal flow if pushed too hard.
I didn't want to time travel, but I did want to test whether my runic modulation could suspend time for a microsecond, useful for reaction timing.
I adjusted the portal sigil slightly, added the Laguz rune (flow), bound it with Ehwaz (movement), and wove it into the teleport anchor.
I exhaled and cast.
The world froze.
Dust hung in midair like amber.
Water dripped from the side Chamber ceiling and never touched the floor.
For that fraction of a heartbeat, I stood outside of time.
When motion resumed, the droplet hit stone, and my grin turned sharp.
"Confirmed. Temporal lag: 0.003 seconds. Enough to dodge even a Killing Curse."
I flexed my fingers. "Trump card just got an upgrade."
-----------------------------------------
By dawn, I had mapped the spell's complete matrix on enchanted parchment.
Dozens of runic layers forming something that looked like the blueprints of a universe.
I leaned back against a stone pillar, exhausted but exhilarated.
"Phase synchronization successful… time drift stabilized…"
"And I still haven't run out of magic."
I laughed quietly to myself.
"I'm a cheat."
The basilisk Head loomed above, silent witness to my progress.
Nice decoration if you ask me.
I closed my eyes, murmuring:
"Via Mentis, My ace in the hole."
And as I vanished, leaving the chamber silent once more, a faint hum lingered in the air, the echo of a spell that should not have been possible.
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(Dumbledore POV*)
"Come in, my boy."
Harry entered, calm as ever. He wasn't even surprised. In fact, I think he had been expecting this conversation for days.
Fawkes trilled softly from his perch. The fire crackled. The room smelled faintly of lemon drops and ozone.
I gestured toward the seat opposite my desk.
"Lemon drop?"
He smirked. "You always try to soften interrogations with sugar?"
My eyes twinkled faintly. "Only for students who make professors question the laws of physics."
I leaned forward.
"Harry, what exactly have you been doing these past weeks? The castle reports… fluctuations. Spatial distortions. I suspect you've been working on something far beyond your coursework."
He raised an eyebrow, pretending to think.
"Well, I was experimenting with tea leaves once. The kettle exploded. That count?"
I sighed, amused and exasperated at once. "Harry."
"All right, all right." He leaned back, tone shifting to playful seriousness.
"Let's just say I've been… creative."
"Creative," I repeated, studying him. "And these 'incidents' where you appear to vanish?"
His smirk widened. "Trade secret."
My gaze sharpened. "Might you indulge an old man's curiosity?"
Without answering, he raised his hand.
The air folded.
One blink, and he was standing near the bookshelf by the phoenix's perch, flipping through an old tome like he'd always been there.
Fawkes chirped once, wings fluffing in surprise.
"No incantation… no focus stone… not even a flicker of magical signature," I murmured, astounded.
He closed the book gently, smirk playing on his lips. "I call it 'being a genius.'"
I chuckled, half in disbelief, half in awe. "My dear boy, even Apparition leaves traces. You did not Apparate."
He tapped his temple. "Didn't need to."
"Then what did you do?"
He just grinned, all mischief and mystery. "My trump card, Professor. Let's keep it at that."
I leaned back, long fingers steepled beneath my chin, eyes twinkling with genuine intrigue now. "You realize you've created something no wizard has ever achieved?"
He shrugged casually. "I just stopped letting magic boss me around."
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Behind my calm face, my mind raced. Spatial folding without anchor.
No magical trace. No drain. Instantaneous transition. Not even Merlin could—
I broke off the thought, smiling faintly.
"I should perhaps start keeping you under observation."
He smirked. "Too late for that. I'm already faster than your wards."
I raised an eyebrow. "Cheek and hubris. A deadly combination."
"Add curiosity," he said lightly. "That's what makes it fun."
I finally sighed, shaking my head in wonder.
"Very well. Keep your secrets, Mr. Potter. But remember, every trump card can become a trap if you don't respect it."
He nodded, his grin softening into something thoughtful. "I know. That's why I'm still refining it."
"Refining," I repeated. "Heaven help us all."
He gave a mock salute and turned to leave.
As the door closed behind him, my smile faded into a contemplative frown.
He's playing with something beyond comprehension. The last time I saw this kind of boundary-breaking magic… was Grindelwald.
I still remember London being engulfed by blue flames.
Except this boy doesn't seek power. He seeks understanding.
I looked toward the window where the moonlight spilled across my desk.
What on earth are you becoming, Harry Potter?
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YOO!
I know update was a little late then usual well shi happens.
also, since there is little to no polt for 2-3 yrs because of butterfly effect , I let some brainstroming and put up an arc, origional but realstic.
it will start after the whole parseltongue reveal.
spoiler alert: it will forshadow something big.
lets see if you figure it out.
see ya!!
-Nine11P2