Young Celestial Wizard [Celestial Grimoire, Harry Potter]

"You-Know-Who tried to eat me!" Harry blurted out, waving his arms. "Well, not really him, but a Boggart that looked like him and it turned into this huge black circle that tried to eat everything and-"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"What Harry means," Charlotte cut in shakily, "is that we found the Fear Vault in the Restricted Section. There was this Boggart, but it wasn't normal. It could cast real spells, including..." She shuddered. "Including the Cruciatus Curse."

Harry nodded vigorously. "It was hurting Charlotte really bad, so I used my mist even though I promised not to. But then it went all weird like the first Boggart and started eating black shadows coming from everywhere! And then it exploded and took a big bite out of the mountain!"

Dumbledore stared at the massive crater, and flicked his wand at the air itself. "Most concerning. The concentration of dark magic is... extraordinary. I fear a simple repair won't suffice."

He turned to Charlotte, his expression stern. "Miss Whitewood, bringing a child into such danger-"

"But I wanted to come!" Harry protested. "I can protect myself! Look at me - I'm not even really hurt!" He gestured between himself and Charlotte's battered form. "I'm pretty good at fighting actually!"

Dumbledore's stern look made Harry shrink a bit. "Harry, while your abilities are indeed remarkable for your age, that does not mean-"

Charlotte suddenly crumpled to the ground with a soft gasp.

Dumbledore's wand moved instantly, sending out diagnostic charms that wrapped Charlotte in gentle blue light. His frown deepened. "Miss Whitewood needs immediate medical attention. And you, Harry, will also be checked." He flicked his wand, sending a silvery phoenix soaring toward the castle.

Harry nodded meekly as Dumbledore conjured a stretcher beneath Charlotte. Then the old wizard's hand settled on Harry's shoulder, and suddenly they were wrapped in smoke, flying through the air at incredible speed. Harry gaped as he looked back, seeing Charlotte's stretcher keeping perfect pace while she lay completely still.

They slowed as they reached the castle, gliding smoothly through corridors until they reached the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey was already waiting, her expression grim as she saw Charlotte's condition.

"On the bed, quickly now," she ordered, already drawing her wand.

"Sit here, Harry," Dumbledore said, guiding him to the bed next to Charlotte's. Harry climbed up, his legs dangling off the edge as he watched Madam Pomfrey cast spell after spell over Charlotte's still body.

"I'm not really hurt," Harry said quietly. "Charlotte got the worst of it. The Boggart-Voldemort kept hitting her with spells."

"That may be true, but using that much magic at your age can be dangerous." Dumbledore sat in the chair between the beds, his blue eyes serious behind his half-moon glasses. "Your mist spell draws on both magical and… soul energy somehow. Using too much could harm you in ways that aren't visible."

Harry looked down at his hands. They still felt cold and heavy, like they were made of stone. "I know I promised not to use it on Boggarts anymore. But it was hurting her so bad, and nothing else worked. Not even my fire."

"I understand why you broke your promise," Dumbledore said. "Sometimes we must choose between what is right and what is easy. But Harry, you must be more careful. If something had gone wrong with that much magic..."

"Would I have died?" Harry asked bluntly. His instincts had been screaming at him the whole time about how dangerous the Boggart was. When it turned into that black circle, it had been more danger than he had ever felt in his life before, even more than from Grandpa himself, as unbelievable as it seemed.

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. "Perhaps. Or something worse. Magic, especially magic involving souls and fear, can be very unpredictable. That's why we have rules about such things."

Harry nodded slowly. "I think I understand. But what about Charlotte? Will she be okay?"

"Madam Pomfrey is very skilled. Miss Whitewood will recover." Dumbledore's expression grew more serious. "Now, tell me everything that happened in that vault. Leave nothing out."

So Harry did, starting with finding the entrance in the Restricted Section. He explained about the three normal Boggarts that turned into Voldemort, and the strange super-Boggart that could cast real spells. When he got to the part about his mist creating the black circle thing, Dumbledore leaned forward slightly.

"And you say it was drawing in shadows, or rather, Boggarts from the castle itself?"

"From everywhere!" Harry spread his arms wide. "Like it was really hungry for them. And then it just..." He made an explosion sound and gesture with his hands. "Boom! Right into the sky!"

"Yes," Dumbledore whispered to himself with a thoughtful look in his eyes. "The results were... rather more dramatic than I had anticipated."

"She's lucky," Madam Pomfrey said, her face pinched with worry as she worked. "Multiple dark curses, and the Cruciatus... if it had been held any longer..." She shook her head and kept casting healing spells over Charlotte's injuries.

"But she'll be okay?" Harry asked, watching the cuts on Charlotte's arms slowly close up, leaving angry red lines behind.

"She'll live," Pomfrey said. "These will scar though. Dark magic always leaves its mark. At least none hit her face."

Harry felt his stomach twist. More people getting hurt because of him. First Draco at the Ministry, Bill at the Vault of Ice, and now Charlotte. Part of him felt angry - angry that the people around him weren't strong enough to protect themselves, angry that he had to break a promise. That Harry wasn't strong enough…

"It's not your fault, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, as if reading his thoughts. "Miss Whitewood made her own choice to enter that vault."

"I know," Harry said. And he did know. Charlotte had wanted to find clues about her brother. But knowing didn't make the anger go away. It didn't stop him from wondering if maybe he should've used the mist sooner, before she got so hurt. Before that thing with the hungry circle that ate all the… Boggarts.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore. "What's going to happen now? To the mountain, I mean."

"That," Dumbledore said, "is an excellent question. One which I suspect will require quite a bit of explanation to the Ministry."

"Can't you just fix it with a spell?" Harry asked, perking up. "Like when Uncle Filius fixed my paintings after the Boggart exploded in my room?"

"I'm afraid repairing an entire mountainside is rather different from restoring a few paintings," Dumbledore said, though his eyes had regained some of their usual twinkle. "The magic that was released there has... changed things. Like drawing with permanent ink instead of pencil - you can't simply erase it."

Harry slumped back against his pillows. He understood that - sometimes when he was painting and made a mistake with certain colors, no amount of scrubbing could fully remove the stain. And this was way bigger than any painting.

"But won't you get in trouble?" Harry asked in a small voice. "Because you let me stay at Hogwarts?"

The thought made his chest feel tight. Hogwarts was his home. The professors were his family. If the Ministry people decided he was too dangerous...

"No one is taking you anywhere," Dumbledore said firmly, as if he knew exactly what Harry was thinking. "You are exactly where you belong. As for the Ministry..." He smiled slightly. "That's not something for you to worry about. I've dealt with the Ministry for longer than most of its current members have been alive."

Harry relaxed a bit at that. Grandpa Dumbledore always knew what to do. Even when things went really wrong, like with the mountain, he stayed calm. Harry wished he could be like that - not getting scared or angry when bad things happened.

"Now then," Dumbledore said, standing up. "I believe it's well past your bedtime. Madam Pomfrey will look after Miss Whitewood, and you need rest after using so much magic."

Harry waved goodbye as Dumbledore left, then sank back into the hospital bed. The ceiling above him was boring and white, but he kept staring at it anyway. His arm rose up toward it, fingers spread like he was trying to grab something only he could see.

He let out a deep sigh. The kind of sigh that felt too big for his almost-seven-year-old body.

People kept coming to him for help. Everyone treated him special because he was the Boy-Who-Lived, the baby who somehow killed You-Know... no, Voldemort. He needed to stop being scared of the name. Voldemort was just another boggart now, wasn't he?

Except he wasn't doing a very good job of living up to his title. Draco still coughed sometimes from that curse at the Ministry. Bill had needed a whole bottle of healing potion after the ice vault. And now Charlotte...

He turned his head to look at her in the next bed. The angry red lines on her arms would never go away completely. She got those because he wasn't strong enough to protect her.

He should've been able to beat that stupid boggart. He killed the real Voldemort when he was just a baby, didn't he? So why was he so weak now that he was so much bigger and older? It didn't make sense. Maybe he was supposed to be stronger, but something went wrong?

Yes, that had to be it. If tiny baby Harry could defeat the real Dark Lord, then almost-seven Harry should've been able to handle a fake one easily.

His raised fist clenched tight, then thumped against his chest. He had to practice more. Train harder. That flame-freezing charm shouldn't have worked so well against his fire. He couldn't let such a big part of who he was get stopped by one little spell.

And he definitely shouldn't have waited so long to use his mist just because of some promise. Charlotte got hurt because he was trying to be good instead of being smart. What was the point of having special powers if he couldn't use them to protect his friends?

Then there was his other power - eating dragon hearts. He hadn't even tried to find any yet! He should've asked the professors where to get some right away. There had to be dragon hearts somewhere, right? Maybe they kept some in the potions storage room, or knew where to find them.

He needed to get stronger. Much stronger. Because next time, he wasn't going to let anyone else get hurt trying to protect him.

Harry's bright green eyes darkened as his thoughts spiraled. The familiar words appeared in his mind, but these ones felt different - cooler somehow, like drinking ice water on a hot day.

[Depths of the Mind - Magic The Gathering - Iconics] – Costs 100CP, 175CP available to spend.

The path of a Wizard is study, rote memorization and learning. These qualities are innate to those who wish to practice magic. Being infused with the cooling touch of Blue Mana, your intelligence has boosted along with your memory and ability to learn. Put simply, you are quite the savant, easily worth three of your peers when looking towards solving a problem, learning three times faster than normal, and having a perfect memory barring magical interference.

This would give him what he desperately needed right now. The ability to learn faster, become stronger.

Harry didn't hesitate. He needed every advantage he could get to protect his friends. To make sure no one else ended up scarred and hurt because he wasn't strong enough or smart enough to help them properly.

Yes.

The moment he accepted, a strange fuzzy feeling filled his head, like static on the wizarding radio Aunt Min sometimes put on. Harry closed his eyes, feeling something shift and settle in his mind. It wasn't painful, just... different. Like his brain was a drawer that someone had just organized really well.

Harry opened his eyes and paused, blinking slowly. Something felt... different. His thoughts weren't faster exactly, but clearer.

He looked at Charlotte again, studying the angry red lines on her arms. Then he closed his eyes, and... they were still there. Not like a picture in his mind, but like he was still looking at them. He could count them if he wanted to. Seven on her right arm, five on her left. The longest one started just below her elbow and curved around like a snake.

That was weird. Last week when he caught that fat mouse while hunting as an eagle, he remembered eating it, sure. But the details were fuzzy. Had it been brown or grey? He wasn't certain. But Charlotte's scars... he knew exactly what they looked like without even trying to remember.

He opened his eyes again. The memory of looking at her just now was just as clear as the previous one. He didn't have to work at remembering things anymore, at least not new things. It was like his brain had gotten tired of losing stuff and decided to keep everything instead.

"This could help with training," he whispered to himself. When he practiced firebending now, he'd remember exactly how the chi felt moving through his body. Every time he got a flame to do what he wanted, he'd remember precisely how he did it. No more forgetting which way to move or how hard to push.

His paintings would get better too. He already had special talent there, but now he could remember every single detail of things he wanted to paint. All the little tricks he learned about mixing colors would stay in his head forever. He'd never forget which brushes worked best for different effects.

Even his mist would improve. He could keep track of exactly how emotional he needed to be to make different intensities of mist. How much magic it took to make shapes. Maybe he could even figure out why it went all weird with the Boggarts.

Harry felt a small smile spread across his face. This wasn't just about remembering things better. He could see patterns now, understand how different pieces fit together. Like doing a puzzle where you could suddenly see exactly where each piece was supposed to go.

"I'm going to get stronger," he promised quietly, looking at the sleeping Charlotte. "And next time, I'll protect you properly."