Chapter 5: Sparks of Power and Flame of Knowledge
Potter Castle - Morning
A gentle morning mist blanketed the ancient stone walls of Potter Castle, perched atop a cliff overlooking the sea. The waves crashed far below, echoing a timeless rhythm as gulls wheeled overhead. The interior courtyard, bordered by white marble statues of the Potter ancestors, pulsed with energy.
Inside the practice yard, arcane circles had been carved into the ancient stone floor. These were not ordinary dueling rings, but runes laced with eldritch energy—runes Harrison himself had carved. Today, however, the master was away, and the students were training.
Harry Potter, wearing enchanted training robes stitched with protective runes, stood with his arms raised. Opposite him, Daphne Greengrass, graceful and focused, traced glowing hieroglyphs in the air with a slender wand carved from moonstone and mummified basilisk bone. Despite the intensity of the training, both wore calm expressions—the kind earned through determination and belief.
In between them floated a spinning cube of eldritch symbols, suspended in a stasis field of raw will.
"Focus your intent," Harry murmured, his emerald eyes sharp. "Don't just cast. Command."
Daphne breathed out slowly. "Anākh ir medjat... Djedi djesef."
The hieroglyphs glowed gold, then violet. The cube pulsed once, before expanding into a series of shifting rings, each one bearing ancient magical text. It hovered above them like a celestial mechanism, and with a flick of Harry's wrist, it collapsed into a protective sigil over their heads.
A soft clap echoed across the yard.
Astoria Greengrass, younger but equally composed, sat cross-legged on the library steps, watching with wide, intelligent eyes. "That was better than yesterday. You held it longer, and the glyphs didn't destabilize."
Harry grinned. "We're getting stronger."
Daphne nodded. "Harrison would've expected this level of mastery weeks from now, not days."
Astoria stood. "He left us the tomes, the scrolls, and the memory spheres. It's up to us to live up to the legacy."
The siblings shared a silent moment, not as children playing with magic, but as warriors-in-training, chosen to guard something greater than themselves.
---
Hogwarts Castle - Midmorning
Back at Hogwarts, deep in the heart of the castle, Harrison Strange Potter sat in the front row of Transfiguration class. The room was filled with a sense of quiet tension—every student aware that this was no ordinary lesson, not with Harrison present.
The mahogany desks gleamed under floating candlelight. Students fidgeted with matchsticks, the object of today's challenge.
The door creaked open with authority as Professor McGonagall stepped in. Her eyes, though aged, gleamed like a hawk's.
"Today, we begin true transfiguration: turning wood to metal, mundane to meaningful. A simple matchstick into a needle. Do not underestimate the complexity."
Students began whispering incantations, fumbling with their wands.
Harrison, calm as ever, flicked his wand gently and murmured, "Verte transmutare."
His matchstick transformed instantly—not just into a needle, but into a gleaming, rune-etched piece of enchanted silver. Tiny glyphs lined its sides: stabilizing runes, likely to resist corrosion and enhance accuracy if used in stitching or magical weaving.
McGonagall walked toward his desk, eyes narrowed. She picked it up, turning it slowly in her fingers.
"You've added enchantments... and a cooling glyph to maintain molecular stability. That's advanced third-year work, Mr. Potter."
"I believe in being prepared, Professor," Harrison said with a polite nod.
McGonagall stared for a long second. "Your magic speaks of great discipline and greater danger. I hope you know how to wield both wisely."
"Every day, ma'am."
Fred and George looked like someone had hit them with a jelly-legs jinx.
"What is he?" Fred muttered.
"Brilliant. Terrifying. Possibly Merlin reincarnated," George replied.
"Don't forget handsome," added Lee Jordan.
---
Dungeons - Potions Class
The air in the dungeon was dense with magical residue. A greenish fog curled around the old stones, illuminated by flickering torchlight.
Professor Severus Snape walked in like a bat sweeping across the room, his robes whispering on the floor. His eyes immediately locked onto Harrison.
"Today we will brew a Cure for Boils. Fail, and you'll suffer from them yourselves."
The class flinched. Harrison didn't.
He began working methodically: crushing snake fangs with a precision only born from years of experience, brewing clockwise, adding finely chopped root of asphodel at the moment of flame change. He pulled from his dimensional satchel a pinch of powdered unicorn horn, not listed in the recipe, but perfect for enhancing consistency.
The potion turned a luminous gold.
Snape drifted to his desk, peered into the cauldron, and paused. For once, he didn't scowl.
"Who taught you to brew like this?"
"Myself," Harrison said honestly. "With some input from a Sumerian alchemist's notes."
"That book is restricted."
"Not to me."
Snape's lip twitched. "Ten points to Gryffindor. Continue."
The entire class gawked.
"Snape. Just. Gave. Points," Fred whispered.
"To a Potter," George added.
Lee scribbled in his notebook, adding a new entry to his unofficial Hogwarts Legends scroll.
---
Common Room - Evening
The Gryffindor common room blazed with warm firelight, casting soft glows on the scarlet tapestries. Harrison sat in the largest chair by the fireplace, a book open in one hand and his staff leaning against the wall.
Fred and George lounged nearby, planning a prank involving disappearing ink and enchanted teacups.
"You know," Fred said, "I think you're part demigod."
"No, no," said George. "He's just too good at everything. I mean, potion genius, transfiguration master, and now Egyptian magic expert?"
"What's next? Animagus? Dragon tamer? Minister of Magic at fourteen?"
Harrison chuckled. "You forgot Seer of Chaos and Guardian of the Greengrass sisters."
"Right. That too."
Lee Jordan walked over with a parchment roll. "I've been compiling every impressive thing you've done since term started. It's now a two-scroll document."
Harrison raised an eyebrow. "You're making a biography?"
"No, more like an epic. Might turn it into a ballad. Or a comic series. Still deciding."
Harrison shook his head, amused. Then he closed his book and leaned forward.
"Truth is, I'm just getting started. My family depends on me. So does the future."
Outside, the moon cast silver trails across the lake. Somewhere deep within the Forbidden Forest, a howl echoed.
The Champion of Chaos sat quietly, readying himself for the storms to come.