The air burned with a mix of ozone, blood, and heat. Stone cracked under the weight of too much magic. The Basilisk coiled tighter, its monstrous body half-slumped from the injuries yet still dangerous—its movements fueled by pure rage.
Caelum adjusted his stance, pulse thudding in his ears.
Harry was still in the air, circling like a hawk, eyes cold and calculating. There was no hesitation in his hands, no uncertainty in the way he channeled magic. He was calling on spells Caelum didn't recognize—at least not from canon. Modified combat spells, layered effects, seamless transitions between attack and defense.
This was not an average Hogwarts student.
But now wasn't the time to dwell.
The Basilisk screeched again, slamming into a pillar. The chamber shook. Caelum leapt back, nearly losing his footing as a section of stone gave way beneath him.
He hissed through his teeth. One misstep here and I'm done.
The system chimed softly in his mind.
[Synchronization increased: 20.07% → 20.27%]
[Condition: Acted in alignment with combat instincts of Archmage Veylan.]
No time to appreciate it.
Caelum raised his hands again. Aether surged around him.
"Phase Break."
The spell blurred his form for half a second—then he reappeared atop one of the broken statues, gaining elevation and a better angle.
He needs an opening.
Harry dove low, broom barely clearing the ground, and launched another silent spell—this one a sharp bolt of compressed air that sheared through a line of scales near the creature's neck.
The Basilisk reeled back, its blind head twisting.
Now.
Caelum didn't even speak the spell this time. He focused, channeled everything into a single point, and sent it forward.
"Mana Lance: Hollowpoint."
The glowing spear of aether tore through the air and embedded deep into the Basilisk's jaw—forcing its mouth open with a cracking sound.
Harry didn't waste it.
He dropped from the broom, straight down into the gap.
There was a flicker—movement faster than Caelum could track—and then a blinding explosion of magic as Harry shoved something directly into the beast's throat and leapt away.
The Basilisk spasmed violently.
Its body thrashed, limbs striking stone like falling trees. Magic rippled from within its chest—growing, pulsing, until its entire body seized up.
Then silence.
A moment later, the Basilisk collapsed.
Dead.
The chamber, for the first time in minutes, was still.
Harry stood at a distance, breathing heavily. Blood ran down his left arm, and one of his sleeves had been shredded by a near-miss fang.
Caelum exhaled shakily. His hands trembled. The mana recoil was brutal, even with his growing synchronization. He lowered his arms and took a deep breath to steady himself.
Harry glanced at him. Just a glance. No thanks. No nod.
Just quiet, unreadable eyes.
Caelum's gaze narrowed.
Who the hell are you really?
But again, now wasn't the time.
He turned toward the tunnel. He had to check if the girls made it to safety—and secure the diary before anyone else saw it.
"Let's get out of here, Professor" he muttered.
Harry silently summoned his broom and walked toward the fallen serpent, crouching to inspect the remains.
Caelum lingered for just a second longer.
Then turned and left.
---
Caelum moved swiftly through the corridor, ignoring the dull ache in his limbs and the lingering sharpness of magic still humming in his veins. He reached the two girls—Harry's sister and Ginny Weasley—both conscious now, though visibly shaken. Their clothes were torn, dirt smudged their cheeks, and magic clung to them like smoke after a fire.
They were alive. That was what mattered most.
No time to linger.
He cast a quick stabilization charm, one to levitate Ginny gently, and offered a steadying arm to the Potter girl. She didn't argue—just nodded and leaned into his side. She was silent, her expression blank with shock, but still composed. Stronger than she had any right to be, considering what they'd just faced.
She must have held out long enough to drag Ginny out of that chamber...
Respect flickered in him, but now wasn't the time.
With a flick of his wand, they vanished in a flash of pale blue light and reappeared just outside the doors to the hospital wing. The familiar antiseptic scent and soft light greeted them.
Madam Pomfrey rushed forward the moment she saw them.
"Merlin's beard—what happened?" she gasped, already conjuring stretchers.
"Two students found near the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets," Caelum answered evenly, helping lower Ginny onto the bed. "They're exhausted and magically depleted. I've stabilized their cores, but you'll want to check for residual magical damage."
"I'll take it from here," Madam Pomfrey said quickly, already casting diagnostics.
Caelum gave her a short nod, then turned to the younger Potter girl, crouching slightly to meet her eyes.
"You'll be alright," he said gently. "Stay here. I'll be contacting your parents about what happened."
She blinked, startled by the weight of his words, but then nodded. Quiet, composed. Like Harry.
Too much like Harry.
As he turned away, Caelum muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else:
"I need to have a talk with Dumbledore… and Harry."
Because after tonight, too many pieces no longer fit. And the ones that did were beginning to form a far stranger picture.
---
The walk from the Hospital Wing back toward his chambers was a quiet one, but Caelum's mind was anything but still. His senses remained on high alert—magic still thrumming beneath his skin from the battle earlier—but it wasn't the adrenaline that had him unsettled.
It was Harry Potter.
The boy had fought like a veteran duelist. No hesitation, no wild flailing or panicked spellcasting like one might expect from a second-year student. No, Harry had been purposeful—his footwork precise, reactions faster than they should've been humanly possible. He moved with the grace of someone who'd survived real wars.
And the spells…
Some of them Caelum hadn't even seen before. Not just modified versions of known charms or jinxes, but entirely different frameworks—efficient, brutal, honed. They weren't the type taught at Hogwarts, nor ones easily found in any book.
It had taken Caelum everything not to stop mid-battle and stare.
Just who the hell are you, Harry Potter?
Once inside his room, Caelum dropped the outer robe, sat at his desk, and reached for the folder he'd compiled on Hogwarts' notable students—Harry's name circled several times.
He hadn't paid it much attention before.
The first few days after arrival, he had read through everything to get context. And from what he saw, Harry Potter had two loving parents, a younger sister, and an academic record that was… well, average. Supposedly lazy, reportedly impulsive, spoiled. But none of that lined up with the boy who'd fought the basilisk like a war-hardened Auror.
So what changed?
Something must've happened. The kind of change that rewrote a person from the inside out.
Caelum leaned back, fingers laced beneath his chin. "Let's say for a moment… this isn't just an alternate universe. Let's say Potter isn't who he's supposed to be—not anymore."
The possibility was becoming harder to ignore. Harry wasn't the Boy Who Lived in this world—Neville was. And while Neville, poor soul, was doing his best to live up to that legend, he was floundering under the weight. He lacked the drive, the instinct, the sharpness that defined a true survivor.
But Harry… had all of that and more.
Caelum stood and paced slowly, piecing the fragments together. "He fights like someone who's already faced death. Someone who's lost people. Maybe even died himself."
The thought gave him pause.
Is he like me? A transmigrator? A regressor? Someone who remembers a different timeline?
If so, then that changed everything. It meant Harry had seen what this world could become—and was already acting to change it.
Caelum let out a breath, then shook his head. "No point in guessing. I need answers. And I'll get them the moment Dumbledore returns."
His fingers drifted toward his wand, and a low hum answered from the magical focus. The synchronization with the Archmage template felt a touch more stable tonight. Smooth, refined. Another step forward.
But there were still too many shadows too many variables.
-----------------------------
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