The water was ice-cold—just the way Harry liked it.
Steam rose in lazy tendrils where his warmth met the magically chilled surface. Half-submerged at the shallow end of the pool, he reclined like a god at rest, limbs stretched, muscles relaxed. A short crystal glass rested on the edge, amber whiskey catching the soft moonlight. He reached for it without looking—muscle memory. The drink burned, smoky and bold, trailing heat down his throat. Forbidden? Maybe, considering he is 12. But he didn't care really.
He took a slow breath. The silence of the night wrapped around him like a cloak—thick, familiar, and comforting. Stars blinked overhead, impossibly bright. 12:40 AM on a Monday. Another sleepless night.
Apparating home had been instinctual. He needed the water, the quiet—and a bit of comfort food.
With his free hand, he reached for the slice of pizza resting on a conjured tray beside him. It was stacked with meat—sausage, bacon, salami, spiced beef—and made by his own hand, a rare indulgence. Three extra-large pies sat in the oven, under a time-delay charm mixed together with a bit off sensory magic. Five minutes before Petunia and Vernon came down in the morning, they'd begin to cook, filling the house with an aroma that would be irresistible, and would also let them know that he had been there.
He took a bite and chewed slowly, letting the fat and salt distract him. But his mind wouldn't rest.
Statute of Secrecy.
"Tech and magic," he muttered, swirling the whiskey again. "Merging them could change everything. Cleaner energy. Universal access to healing. Education beyond boundaries. A network where runes and code talk to each other."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"But the problem..."
He trailed off, the stars above him reflected in the ripples of the pool.
"The ICW won't let it happen. They're not just old... they're afraid. And fear guards tradition like a three-headed dog. Although the fear is something valid I suppose."
The International Confederation of Wizards—a organisation that worked to keep the wizarding world hidden from the Muggle world.
And it wasn't a empty worry either. Muggles and Wizards don't usually go together. And the very research of Magitech would need for him to break the Statute of Secrecy.
Harry took another sip.
Are there any ways for me to do it without breaking the Statute of Secrecy?
"Well I guess I'll have to talk to dad and Sirius about this," Harry sighed as he downed the entire drink.
He poured himself another glass and let the silence linger.
The last bite of pizza vanished without fanfare, swallowed alongside the slow burn of the whiskey. His free hand reached for the book resting beside his wand, still slightly damp from the steam.
The Continuum: Space and Time.
A plain leather-bound tome, its title inked in shimmering silver that pulsed softly in the moonlight. No author. No dedication. Just a presence—weighty, ancient, aware.
It had appeared on the couch the morning of his birthday, no note, no clue. Just sitting there, like it belonged.
He hadn't questioned it. Not really.
Not when the first chapter opened with a line that seemed written for him:
"Spacial magic deals not with movement, but with understanding the relationships between all things that exist."
And then the real shock had come.
Compared to this, the spacial magic book from the Room of Requirement was laughable—basic glyphs, entry-level compressions, misaligned diagrams and spells. No wonder he didn't understand anything.
This book, though? It challenged him.
It broke down space like a living fabric—fluid, responsive, reactive. Foldable, stretchable. Alive. Time, on the other hand, was dangerous—a predator watching through glass. He'd thought he had mastered time when he made potion instantaneously by fast forwarding the time for it. He was wrong.
He hadn't even begun.
Now, after weeks of study, he could at least feel that he was getting better, in both of those domains of magic.
By the time the sky lightened to a deep indigo, Harry was out of the water. The chill no longer bit at his skin—it clung like a second layer, invigorating, awakening. He dried off with a flick of his wand, the towel vanishing mid-air as he stepped back into his clothes.
The book closed with a gentle hum, like a breath being exhaled. The leather had grown warmer during the night, its presence now faintly resonating against his palm—as though it had shared something precious and needed rest.
Just one page.
That's all he had read.
One page… in all those hours.
And yet, it wasn't really just one. Each time he reached the end of a sentence, more had appeared. Paragraphs multiplied like thoughts within thoughts. Diagrams unfurled into side-notes, then realigned into new forms, looping into deeper complexity, then simplifying into single words with crushing clarity.
He had read a book's worth on a single page—a living page—and barely understood half of it. That was the nature of the Continuum.
With a final glance at the horizon—a soft spill of gold breaking through the ink-blue canvas—Harry disapparated.
He reappeared a moment later in the stone corridor before the Great Hall.
It was empty. Of course it was, considering the time and the location.
His steps were silent as he walked towards the Headmasters office.
He reached the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. It blinked as if it had been dozing.
"Strawberry Jam," Harry said.
The gargoyle stepped aside at once, almost apologetic.
The spiral staircase rose without sound as he stepped on. His mind, still sharp from the night's reflections, was focused now—task-oriented.
Just like he had thought before, he was going to ask Dumbledore to talk with the Governors to make Ron and Hermione's research into a official paid research under Hogwarts name.
Walking up the spiral stairs, Harry arrived at the familiar door that led to Dumbledore's office. He knocked once on the great wooden door, and entered when he heard Dumbledore's voice call out.
The office was bathed in soft, golden light—lamplight mingling with the earliest rays of dawn through the tall, arched windows. Fawkes stirred on his perch, rustling his crimson feathers with a sleepy trill, while the portraits of past headmasters blinked down, some murmuring greetings, others simply observing.
Dumbledore looked up from his desk, eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. He wore midnight-blue robes today, embroidered subtly with swirling constellations that shimmered as he moved.
"Ah, Harry," he said, smiling. "What brings you here so early? Couldn't sleep, or have you taken to morning strolls through stone corridors now?"
Harry chuckled and stepped in. "Neither, really. I just wanted to talk to you… about something important."
Dumbledore gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Then you are most welcome. Sit."
Harry took the seat, folding his arms on the polished wood. "It's about the research Ron and Hermione are doing. The system to measure a wizard's power."
Dumbledore's expression shifted—still kind, but now laced with curiosity and approval. "Ah yes. An intriguing endeavor, that one. Quite the ambitious framework they're developing. I've been assisting them where I can—sharing old records, guiding them through magical theory. You've spoken to them recently, I presume?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. I just thought… this research, it's big. It could change things for magical education, training, even safety. Knowing your own magical strength and potential? That would reshape how we approach dueling, spellcasting, even healer diagnostics."
Dumbledore leaned back slightly, fingers steepled. "Indeed. That is precisely why I've been advocating for it to be turned into an officially recognized research initiative under the Hogwarts banner."
Harry blinked. "You've already tried to get it approved?"
Dumbledore smiled. "Of course. I approached the Board of Governors a few weeks ago. I had hoped they would see the vision, but… alas, the usual resistance. Bureaucracy and caution make for slow partners in progress."
Harry snorted. "Yeah, tell me about it."
Dumbledore's smile turned rueful. "They fear what it might imply. Ranking wizards, defining power in measurable terms… It unsettles the status quo. But I will keep trying."
Harry leaned forward slightly, voice sincere. "Would you try again? Just once more, for now?"
Dumbledore nodded at once. "For something this important, a dozen more times if needed."
Harry smiled, "Thanks, Professor. But I don't think you will need to try again after this time."
Getting up from the chair, he continued, "Well Professor, that was actually all I came here for."
Dumbledore chuckled, the light catching his eyes. "Just that? No new potion or spell? No clandestine mission to discuss?"
Harry laughed, "No, sir. Not this time around. Just trying to get my friends all the help they can get since they won't let me help."
Dumbledore chuckled, "I think the research would be completed in a week if you get involved... and they fear that they won't have anything to take credit for since you would probably do everything."
Harry smiled sheepishly, "Well, I don't think I can do it in a week, professor. But the thing about doing it all alone... Guilty as charged."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as Harry sat back down. "I almost forgot, Harry—there is something I've been meaning to tell you."
Harry tilted his head, curious. "Yes, sir?"
"Yes," Dumbledore nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair. "It concerns your class. The one you've only held once, mind you."
Harry blinked. "My class?"
Dumbledore smiled. "Indeed. Though only one session has occurred so far, several of the professors who attended—including myself—have reported… curious changes. Subtle, but consistent. A kind of reconnection with the deeper currents of magic. In short, they feel more in tune. And in some cases, more capable."
Harry was delightfully surprised. "Really?"
"Really," Dumbledore said, folding his hands. "It would seem that the way you approach magic—your… perspective—is contagious. Inspiring, even. It allows people to feel magic differently, to interact with it more instinctively."
Harry was quiet for a moment, trying to process it.
"And," Dumbledore continued, "given this development, I reached out to Madam Bones."
Harry's eyebrows rose. "Amelia? Minister of Magic?"
"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "I proposed an idea. A pilot of sorts. What if trainee Aurors—those newly recruited into the DMLE—were allowed to attend your class unofficially? A kind of secret internship before we formally present this format to the Ministry for consideration in their training."
Harry blinked, stunned. "You're serious?"
"Entirely," Dumbledore said, eyes gleaming. "She was intrigued. Quite eager, in fact. You will, of course, need to schedule a separate time slot for them. Discreetly, for now."
Harry sat back down with a slow exhale. "That's… I mean, I didn't expect that at all."
"You're making waves, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "Not loud ones, not yet—but the tide is turning. And it begins with perspective."
Harry gave a slow nod, still processing. Then he smiled. "I'd be happy to teach them, Professor. Any day, really. As long as I don't miss Defense Against the Dark Arts this year."
Dumbledore's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Oh?"
"Professor Thorne," Harry said, his tone thoughtful. "There's something different about him. The way he moves, how he watches everything—reminds me of someone who's seen more than he lets on. I think he has a lot to teach. And I want to learn it."
"Understandable," Dumbledore murmured, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "He is… layered."
Harry grinned. "The rest of the classes I can skip. Like I said last term—I've finished the course material."
Dumbledore gave a soft chuckle. "Yes. You did make that rather clear."
Harry stood again, this time for real. "Thanks for telling me, Professor. I'll work out a time for the Aurors and let you know by tomorrow."
Dumbledore inclined his head. "Excellent. I trust your judgment."
As Harry made his way to the door, Dumbledore added warmly, "And Harry?"
Harry glanced over his shoulder.
"Be careful. The kind of influence you're beginning to have—it's the sort that changes not just systems, but people."
Harry's smile was quiet. "Then I'll make sure it changes them for the better."
As he turned and exited the office, the heavy oak doors closing softly behind him, a cool breeze from the corridor brushed past his robes. He took a deep breath and, without missing a step, reached out mentally—activating the connection he had established with Lucius Malfoy and the other board governors.
"Approve Dumbledore's proposal. Fund the research fully and classify it as a paid academic initiative," Harry instructed silently, his mental voice calm yet commanding. "Ensure the credit remains solely with the students. Their names go on the final publication. No interference."
He felt the order take place into their subconsciousness and a small smirk touched his lips. He had used the governors and Lucius before to make Abigail get accepted into first year earlier. Not that anyone knew about it.
As he descended the staircase, his thoughts shifted again. The class for the trainee Aurors. He would need a space away from prying eyes and a teaching plan that wasn't just informative—but transformative.
He wasn't just going to train them. He was going to reshape the way they understood magic.
Already, his mind was outlining a curriculum: layers of magical perception, instinct-based casting, emotional channeling, combat immersion, and perhaps even the more… esoteric aspects of magic. The kind of knowledge no textbook could ever offer.
"For now, I'll let Ron and Hermione know about the news." Harry thought as he walked towards the Gryffindor tower.
As Harry stepped through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, the fire was still crackling low, casting warm orange light over the stone walls and red furnishings. He paused in surprise.
Ron and Hermione were slumped over the same table they had been working at the night before, parchment and ink scattered around them, books opened to pages half-read. They were fast asleep—Hermione's head resting on a stack of notes, Ron snoring softly beside her, quill still in hand.
Harry smiled faintly and walked over quietly.
He knelt beside them, placing one hand gently on Hermione's shoulder and the other on Ron's back. With a light pulse of wandless magic, he cast a restorative charm—one he had developed specifically for mental exhaustion. It wasn't just refreshing; it was like a deep breath for the soul.
A faint glow shimmered beneath his palms, and both stirred almost immediately.
Hermione blinked, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. "Harry? Is it morning already?"
Ron groaned and stretched, then blinked rapidly. "Blimey, I feel like I slept for a week."
Harry chuckled. "Technically, you only slept a few hours. But I figured you earned a proper rest." He reached into his enchanted satchel and pulled out two chilled butterbeers, handing one to each of them.
With a flick of his fingers, he cast another charm—this one to freshen them up completely. Clothes unwrinkled, fatigue wiped clean, minds sharpened.
"You two might want to brace yourselves," Harry said with a small grin. "Your research will be approved soon to become a paid academic project under Hogwarts."
Hermione gasped, eyes going wide. "What?!"
"And," Harry added, "you'll keep full credit for the final paper. No name-sharing, no supervisory override. Just the two of you."
Ron nearly dropped his butterbeer. "Mate, are you serious? That's— That's brilliant!"
Harry grinned. "You've earned it."
He leaned back against one of the nearby armchairs, arms crossed as he watched the two of them soak it in.
"But," he added, "don't overdo it. This kind of thing is new, and no one's expecting you to finish overnight. Let it take whatever time it needs. No need to break your backs over it."
At that, both Ron and Hermione burst into laughter.
Harry raised a brow. "What?"
Hermione wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling. "Harry… the research is almost done."
Ron nodded, grinning ear to ear. "Yeah, another month or two, tops. We just need to fine-tune the magical feedback metrics and re-run one last calibration cycle."
Harry stared at them. "You're kidding."
"Not even close," Hermione said proudly. "We hit a breakthrough last night. Everything just… clicked."
Harry let out a stunned laugh. "I don't know whether to be impressed or mildly concerned for your sleep schedules."
He shook his head and clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Well, I look forward to finally getting my own readings done."
Before either could reply, a sudden weight landed on Harry's back with a soft thud.
He staggered a step as arms wrapped around his shoulders and a sleepy voice mumbled against his neck, "Goodmorning, brother…"
Harry tilted his head, amused. "Morning, Abigail."
She had clearly just woken up—or hadn't fully. Dressed in a sleep robe, her hair tousled and eyes half-closed, she leaned against him like a kitten, still clinging to his back.
Since arriving at Hogwarts, Abigail had been noticeably more attached to him—constantly seeking his presence, his reassurance. Harry hadn't said anything, but he understood. As much as she had been thrilled by the idea of magic and adventure, Hogwarts was still a castle full of strangers, away from the comfort of home and parents.
She was only ten, after all. The youngest in the school. And while she put on a brave face in public, in these quiet moments, it was clear where she found her anchor.
She found it in him.
And Harry… didn't mind. Not one bit.
He adjusted his hold slightly, shifting her weight so her legs didn't drag as he walked. Her arms tightened reflexively around his shoulders in response, and a small content hum escaped her.
Harry smiled softly. She was still the cutest of them all. His sister.
Harry smiled down at the warm weight clinging to his back, then gently levitated Abigail with a casual flick of his fingers, making sure the magic was soft enough not to wake her. She rose lightly into the air, still curled up like a kitten, and Harry guided her to the nearby couch.
With another flick, the couch expanded, stretching into a long, plush recliner with oversized cushions and a velvet throw. The edges shimmered as he added warming and silencing charms, isolating her from the chatter and clatter of the common room. Abigail shifted slightly as she settled, murmuring something incomprehensible, then let out a soft sigh, completely at ease.
Harry watched her for a moment, a quiet protectiveness in his gaze.
"She needs the rest," he said quietly, turning back to Ron and Hermione. "She's trying so hard to act older than she is."
Hermione smiled sympathetically. Ron rubbed the back of his neck, glancing over at Abigail before returning to Harry. "She's lucky to have you."
Harry waved off the sentiment and sat down next to the now-expanded couch, lowering his voice. "Speaking of rest… You two should talk to the professors. Get officially excused from regular classes for a while. This research is going to eat up your time and your energy. Don't stretch yourselves too thin."
Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance and nodded.
"We were planning to do that today," Hermione said. "Professor McGonagall already hinted she'd approve it once we had something concrete."
"Good," Harry said. "Make it happen."
Then, as if something clicked, his eyes lit up. "Oh, that reminds me."
He reached into his robes and pulled out his subspace pouch. His hand disappeared deep into it as he searched, muttering to himself and pushing aside various items—money, books, backup clothes—before his fingers closed around what he wanted.
He drew out a pristine white parchment, larger than any normal scroll. The edges shimmered faintly, unnaturally smooth, as though made from magically refined paper far beyond what Hogwarts normally saw.
Ron leaned forward, brows raised. "What's that?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "It doesn't look like the Marauder's Map…"
Harry smirked, lips quirking with a hint of pride. "It's not. This is far better."
He laid it across the coffee table, then placed his finger gently at the center of the parchment. His voice was calm but resonant.
"Aether asks for a Phoenix Uprising."
The parchment glowed. A ripple of golden light spread outward in concentric circles, and then—like a projection springing to life—an intricate three-dimensional map of Hogwarts and its surrounding grounds rose from the surface.
It hovered above the parchment like a hologram, each layer clearly marked: dungeons, ground floor, first floor, all the way up to the astronomy tower. Names hovered over figures moving about, including the students, professors, and even house-elves. Every person on the grounds was accounted for in real time.
Hermione gasped audibly. "Harry… this is… incredible!"
"Bloody brilliant," Ron muttered, eyes wide as he tracked his own name walking around the tower. "You made this?"
Harry nodded, "Yeah. At first I was going to make multiple copies of Marauder map but then I thought, why not make something better."
He tapped a side panel on the parchment and it shifted, now displaying the name tags of prefects, Headboy and Headgirl in different colors. The professors too were shown in different colors.
Ron and Hermione were at a loss for words as they could only stare at the holographic map. It showed every corridor, every turn, every stair. It was as if they had a miniature Hogwarts model that they were dissecting and looking at.
Harry tapped the parchment once more, his fingers moving with practiced precision. "Phoenix Burns Bright!"
Instantly, the brilliant map shimmered, then folded in on itself with a ripple of light. Within seconds, the parchment was once again blank and innocuous—just a simple piece of paper resting calmly on the table.
Ron blinked. "Just like that? It's gone?"
Harry smirked. "Not gone. Just sleeping."
Then he raised his hand and flicked his fingers in a fluid motion. Two identical parchments shimmered into existence beside the original, edges still glowing faintly from the duplication spell. He handed one to Ron and the other to Hermione.
"These are yours. Key it with your Phoenix Covenant codenames only—Tempest for you," he nodded at Ron, "and Sage for you," he added, turning to Hermione.
She took it delicately, already scanning it with fascination. "It only responds to the passphrase and the nickname?"
"Exactly," Harry confirmed. "Only you two can activate it. Speak the invocation and use your name. If someone else tries, it stays a piece of blank parchment. Active magical defense included—it'll repel tampering."
Ron gave a low whistle. "You really thought of everything."
Harry shrugged, already conjuring more copies with a wave of his hand. "I'll give two to Fred and George—they'll know how to use it without setting off fireworks. And two more for Ginny and Abigail. Just in case."
Hermione nodded appreciatively, tucking the parchment into her bag. "Thank you, Harry. I don't know how we will use it, but I'm sure we will."
Ron pocketed his with a grin. "Yeah, cheers mate."