The bathroom was cold and silent at three in the morning, the same as it had been every night for the past month.
Moonlight filtered weakly through the high, grimy windows, painting the rows of sinks in pale silver. Water dripped steadily from one of the taps — plip… plip… plip — like the slow heartbeat of something that refused to die. Lilith Lyralei sat on the edge of the middle sink, legs swinging gently, black robes pooled around her like spilled ink. She had stopped pretending this was only about the Chamber weeks ago.
Moaning Myrtle hovered just above the last cubicle, her round face softer than usual, pigtails drifting in an invisible current. Thirty nights of quiet conversations had changed something between them. The ghost no longer greeted her with suspicion or tears. Tonight she simply floated closer, knees drawn up to her chest in that familiar lonely pose.
"You came again," Myrtle said, almost shyly. "I thought maybe tonight you'd be too tired after the match."
Lilith gave a small smile. "Couldn't sleep. The walls feel louder lately." She hesitated, then added honestly, "And I like talking to you."
Myrtle's pale cheeks gained the faintest hint of colour. "No one ever says that."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound the endless dripping tap. Lilith traced a finger along the cold porcelain, gathering courage.
"I hate being me sometimes," she whispered suddenly. The words surprised even her. "I wake up every morning and there's this… weight. This need to control things I don't even understand. I look in the mirror and I don't know who I'm supposed to be. I don't know what my life is for. I just… follow this feeling that drags me forward whether I want it or not."
Myrtle floated a little closer, eyes wide behind her thick glasses. "That sounds awful."
"It is." Lilith's voice cracked. "If I could live a normal life… I think I'd want to be someone who laughs easily. Someone who has friends she doesn't have to manipulate or impress. Someone who could just… exist without this constant pressure in my chest." She swallowed hard, then the next words tumbled out before she could stop them. "If I could have a normal life, I think I'd want someone like Harry as my friend. Not because he's Harry Potter. Just… because he's kind. Protective. And actually fun to be around. He makes people feel safe without asking for anything in return."
The admission hung in the damp air. Lilith blinked, startled by her own honesty. She pressed her lips together, cheeks burning.
Myrtle tilted her head. "Harry Potter? The one everyone talks about?"
Lilith nodded, embarrassed. "I've only spoken to him a few times, but… yeah. He's different."
The ghost gave a small, watery smile. "I've heard things from the other portraits and ghosts. They say he has layers. That he's terrifyingly powerful but doesn't act like it most of the time. He even talks to Nearly Headless Nick like they're old friends."
"And he eats a lot. He is always eating." Lilith added but then got even more embarrassed as to why she said that.
A comfortable quiet settled again. Then Lilith turned to Myrtle, expression gentle. "If you don't mind telling me… how did you really die? I know it was in this bathroom, but I've never asked for the details. If I could have met you when you were alive, I think you would have been my best friend."
Myrtle's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but for once they weren't miserable ones. She floated down until her feet almost touched the tiled floor.
"It was horrible," she whispered. "I heard this strange hissing sound. Like a snake, but bigger. Much bigger. I came out of the cubicle to see what it was… and there were these enormous yellow eyes near the sinks. The biggest eyes I'd ever seen. Then everything went dark. I don't remember anything after that."
Lilith's heart beat faster. She slid off the sink and walked slowly toward the row of taps. "Near the sinks? Which one?"
Myrtle drifted after her and pointed a translucent finger at the large central tap on the end sink. "There. Right there. I remember because it looked so ordinary. Just a normal tap."
Lilith crouched down. Her fingers trembled slightly as she ran them over the cold metal. There — etched faintly into the side of the tap — was a tiny, almost invisible carving of a serpent, coiled around the base.
Bingo.
She traced the snake with her fingertip, feeling the faint thrum of ancient magic beneath the metal. The entrance. After more than thirty nights of quiet conversations and growing friendship, she had finally found it.
Lilith straightened slowly, staring at the innocent-looking sink. The compulsion inside her chest surged, hot and demanding, but for the first time in weeks it had to share space with something softer — the genuine ache of missing the lonely ghost who had become her only real confidante in this cold castle.
She turned back to Myrtle, voice quiet. "Thank you for telling me."
Myrtle gave her a small, sad smile. "You're the only person who's ever asked like you actually cared."
"I do care," Lilith said, and meant it. "Whatever happens… I hope you know that."
The ghost nodded, eyes shining. "I know."
Lilith lingered for a long moment, fingers still resting on the serpent-carved tap. The Chamber waited just beyond. The basilisk. The power she had been chasing for so long.
But tonight, for the first time, the victory felt hollow. Because she didn't know why she wanted that power and now it was starting to bug her.
She stayed with Myrtle until the first faint light of dawn began to creep through the windows, talking about nothing and everything, two lonely souls finding brief comfort in each other before the world demanded its due.
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Harry's room at the Moonstone Dunvegan was quiet on this lazy Saturday afternoon, April 10th, 1993. Sunlight streamed through the transparent section of the wall, bathing the room in warm light.
Ron Weasley sat hunched over the chessboard, brow furrowed in deep concentration. Across from him, Harry lounged casually in an armchair, one leg draped over the armrest. A thick notebook rested on his knee, and he scribbled notes with quick focused strokes of his pen. Ginny sat on another floating chair beside him, chin in her hands, eyes bright with excitement as they discussed her idea.
"...so the base would need to be something that naturally accelerates core absorption," Ginny was saying, voice animated. "Maybe powdered moonstone mixed with a stabilized bezoar extract? That might create a permanent increase in the rate at which the core draws in ambient magic."
Harry shook his head without looking up from his notes. "No it won't. One is a stabilizer and the other is an antidote to poison. How exactly would they create an increase in the rate at which the core draws in ambient magic?"
Ron muttered his next move without taking his eyes off the board. "Knight to f6."
The black knight slid forward on its own with a soft wooden click. Harry glanced at the board for half a second.
"Queen to h5," he said absently, still writing.
"That's the third time you've done that," Ron complained. "You're not even looking properly."
Harry shrugged, turning a page in his notebook. "Your knight was hanging."
"Bishop to e7. Check!"
"Rook takes bishop," Harry said, still not looking at the board.
Ron threw his hands up. "Queen takes rook. How are you doing this? You're rubbish at chess. You always lose. Especially to me."
Ginny grinned, clearly enjoying her brother's suffering. "Maybe he's finally learnt the game."
"Knight to c6. Checkmate." Harry kept scrunching his eyebrows while looking at the notebook. "I don't understand. I mean there are tons of ingredients that could be used to potentially increase the magical energy absorption by the core, but the main issue is which ones to use?"
Ron stared at the board in utter disbelief as his king toppled over with a defeated wooden clack. The white knight stood proudly in the centre, surrounded by the ruins of Ron's defence. For a long moment the redhead could only blink.
"Sixteen moves," he muttered. "You just checkmated me in sixteen moves while writing notes about bloody potion theory. Sixteen."
Ginny leaned over to inspect the board, then let out a low whistle. "That was actually brilliant. Ruthless, even. You trapped his king before he even realised he was in danger."
Harry finally glanced up from his notebook, "Yeah, I was tired of being rubbish at the game, so I learnt it properly."
Ron reset the board with aggressive determination. "Again. I refuse to believe this. You must have cheated somehow."
Harry chuckled and called out his opening move without hesitation. "Pawn to e4."
The game restarted. Ron played more carefully this time, but within twelve moves Harry had him cornered again, all while continuing his conversation with Ginny about possible core-enhancement formulas. Every now and then he would glance at the board for half a second, murmur a move, and the pieces would obediently shift, leaving Ron more and more flustered.
By the time Harry announced "Checkmate" for the third time in under twenty minutes, Ron slumped back in his chair, staring at the ceiling like a man who had lost his will to live.
"I give up," he groaned. "You've been replaced by an evil genius. The real Harry would never do this to me."
Ginny laughed brightly. "Face it, Ron. Harry's just good at everything when he actually tries."
By the time Harry announced "Checkmate" for the third time in under twenty minutes, Ron slumped back in his chair, staring at the ceiling like a man who had lost his will to live.
"I give up," he groaned. "You've been replaced by an evil genius. The real Harry would never do this to me."
Ginny laughed brightly. "Face it, Ron. Harry's just good at everything when he actually tries."
Harry closed his notebook and stretched, "Well good luck beating me now, Weasley. Anyways I'm a bit hungry" He said as he got up. "I think I have a combination, Gin. But I'll need some more time to tinker around."
Before anyone could reply, Harry simply vanished without a sound.
Ron stared at the empty armchair for a long second, then slowly turned his gaze back to the chessboard. The pieces still sat in their final, humiliating positions. He reached out and replayed the last game move by move in his head, eyes narrowed in fierce concentration.
Ginny watched him with an amused little smile, legs tucked beneath her on the floating chair.
After several minutes of silent analysis, Ron jabbed a finger at the board. "Look at this. Move fourteen. He sacrificed his queen. Just gave it away like it was nothing. I thought I had him cornered. Then six moves later my entire left flank collapses and his rooks are tearing through my back rank like it's butter. Six moves, Ginny. I didn't even see it coming."
Ginny leaned forward, studying the positions. "Mmm. Classic Harry. He does that with everything. Sacrifices something that looks important just to set up a bigger win later."
Ron ran a hand through his hair, still replaying the sequence. "He made the best possible move almost every single turn. Not good moves. The absolute best ones. I've beaten Bill. I've beaten Charlie. I've beaten Dad on his best days. No one plays like that against me. No one."
He looked up at his sister, genuinely bewildered. "How? He used to hate chess. He'd lose in under twenty moves every time we played. Now he's… this."
Ginny's smile softened with fond exasperation. "Yeah, well that's Harry. He decided he had enough of people beating him in chess. I wouldn't be surprised if he went to some library, collected every chess book he could find, memorised the lot, and then spent a few nights turning it all over in that terrifying brain of his until it made sense."
Ron let out a long, defeated breath and slumped deeper into his chair. "Mental. Absolutely mental. The scary part is he wasn't even really trying. He was chatting about potion ingredients the whole time and still dismantled me like I was a first-year."
Ginny reached over and ruffled his hair. "Cheer up. At least you lasted longer than last week. That has to count for something."
Ron groaned and knocked his king over again for good measure. "I hate him. I really do."
With that both of them disapparated without sounds.
Diagon Alley buzzed with the cheerful energy of a busy Saturday afternoon. Sunlight filtered down between the leaning buildings, warming the cobblestones and glinting off shop windows packed with colourful displays. Ron and Ginny reappeared just outside the Leaky Cauldron, already walking shoulder to shoulder toward Silver Hearth, their favourite lunch spot.
As they turned the corner, the towering four-storey bulk of The Magic Pavilion came into view. The shop had grown enormously since its early days, which was only months ago. Bright signs advertised everything from pranks on the ground floor to advanced potion ingredients on the second, while the top floor housed the newly added auction house that Harry had suggested. The entire building practically hummed with activity.
Just as they approached, the main doors swung open and Molly Weasley stepped out, looking a little tired but pleased with herself. She let out a long yawn, one hand covering her mouth, the other adjusting the light shawl around her shoulders.
"Mum?" Ginny called, surprised.
Molly's face lit up the moment she saw them. "Ginny! Ron! What are you two doing here?"
"Heading to Silver Hearth for lunch," Ron answered, grinning. "Harry's off doing Harry things again, so we escaped before he dragged us into another mad experiment. You coming with us?"
Molly glanced back at the shop for a moment, then shook her head with a tired smile. "I've been here since six this morning sorting out the new stock for the auction floor. My feet are killing me and I haven't had a proper bite since breakfast."
Ginny immediately linked her arm with her mother's. "Then you're definitely coming with us. No arguments. You've been working too hard lately."
Molly let out a soft laugh but didn't pull away. "I suppose I could spare an hour. The elves have everything under control for now." She gave Ron's cheek a quick pinch as they started walking again. "And how's my favourite chess champion doing? Still letting Harry beat you?"
Ron groaned dramatically. "Mum, he checkmated me three times in under twenty minutes while barely looking at the board. I'm starting to think he's part goblin or something."
Molly chuckled warmly, squeezing both their arms as they walked down the lively street. "That boy has always been full of surprises. Come on then, let's get some proper food in us before I fall asleep standing up."
On the other hand, Pansy's room back home was crowded today. Although it only had three people, Pansy paced in front of the table, twisting her hand together as she was a nervous wreck. Daphne and Hermione sat watching her, both of them trying not to smile at how obviously nervous their friend was.
"So… I've been working on something," Pansy began, voice higher than usual. "For a while now, actually. Not that it's anything special. I mean, it probably isn't. I was just thinking about healing spells and how they're so broad and clumsy sometimes, and then I thought maybe we could be more… precise? But then again, maybe it's useless. I don't know. I've never really made a spell before. Not a proper one. This could be completely pointless and I'm wasting your time and—"
"Pansy," Daphne said gently, reaching out to catch her friend's wrist. "Breathe. Whatever it is, we want to see it."
Hermione nodded, eyes bright with curiosity. "You've been fidgeting for ten minutes straight. Just show us."
Pansy stopped pacing. She took a deep breath, cheeks faintly pink, and raised her wand with a slightly shaky hand.
"I… I call it Singularis," she said quietly. "It lets you target any single cell in the body. Or multiple cells. Anywhere. You can choose the exact location, the exact number, even the exact type. It doesn't damage anything around it. It just… isolates them. Perfectly."
She demonstrated by pointing her wand at a single petal on a flower arrangement across the room. A faint silver thread of light shot out, wrapped around one tiny cell on the edge of the petal, and made it glow softly while the rest of the flower remained untouched.
Hermione stared.
For three full seconds there was complete silence.
Then Hermione shot up from her chair so fast it nearly flipped over. Her eyes were huge, sparkling with pure, unfiltered excitement.
"Pansy," she breathed, voice trembling with awe. "Pansy, do you realise what you've just done?"
She grabbed both of Pansy's hands and started jumping up and down like an overjoyed child.
"This spell... Singularis. It can target cancerous cells! Any cancer! You could isolate every single malignant cell in a patient's body without touching a single healthy one! Tumours, leukaemia, everything! You could mark them all and then destroy them or extract them or heal them individually! This is... this is revolutionary!"
Hermione let go of Pansy's hands and began pacing rapidly around the room, talking faster and faster, her voice climbing with delight.
"No more invasive surgeries for half the diseases we know! No more hoping potions work on the right tissues! You could treat genetic disorders cell by cell! This isn't just medical magic, Pansy, this is the future of healing! We could eradicate so many conditions that have plagued wizardkind and Muggles alike for centuries!"
She suddenly spun on her heel, eyes shining, and bolted toward the door.
"I have to tell Harry! Right now! He needs to see this immediately!"
Hermione ran out of the room through the door opening that appeared as she neared the wall, still shouting behind her shoulder. "Pansy Parkinson, you absolute genius! Harry is going to lose his mind!"
Pansy stood frozen in the middle of the room, cheeks burning bright red, looking equal parts mortified and thrilled. Daphne walked over and pulled her into a tight hug, laughing softly.
"Look at you," Daphne murmured proudly. "You made something incredible. And now Hermione's running through the halls like a first-year who just discovered her first spell."
Pansy buried her face in Daphne's shoulder, voice muffled but clearly smiling. "I thought it might be useful… I didn't expect her to react like that."
Daphne pulled back just enough to grin at her. "Just useful? This could practically wipe out any diseases from the face of the planet. This is soo much more than useful Parkinson."
From somewhere down the corridor, they could still hear Hermione's excited voice echoing off the crystalline walls.
"Harry! Harry, you have to see this right now!"
Pansy let out a shaky, delighted laugh and pressed her hands to her warm cheeks.
"I can't believe I actually did it."
Daphne squeezed her shoulder. "Believe it. You did something brilliant today."
"No... Not brilliant. Something that could potentially lead humans down a different evolutionary path."
The living room downstairs at Moonstone Dunvegan was bathed in the same gentle golden light that filled every corner of the floating domain. Dumbledore sat in his favourite high-backed chair near the wide transparent wall, a cup of tea hovering beside him as he studied a slowly rotating three-dimensional model of one of the outer terraces. The old wizard had taken to spending most of his free hours here, quietly marvelling at the living architecture Harry had created, trying to unravel its mysteries.
The sound of rapid footsteps echoed down the grand staircase.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione burst into the room like a whirlwind, hair slightly wild, eyes enormous and shining with uncontainable excitement. "Professor — you have to — Pansy — she made — it's — cells!"
Dumbledore looked up, eyebrows rising in mild surprise at the breathless girl. "Miss Granger?"
Hermione skidded to a stop in front of him, hands waving frantically as the words tumbled out in a chaotic rush. "Singularis! Pansy made a spell called Singularis! It can target any single cell — any cell in the entire body — or hundreds or thousands at once — anywhere you want — without touching anything else! You just point and it isolates them perfectly! Cancer cells, mutated cells, anything! You could mark every cancerous cell in a patient and then destroy only them! No healthy tissue damaged! No more guessing with potions or cutting people open! It's — it's revolutionary!"
She was practically bouncing on her toes, cheeks flushed, eyes bright as a child who had just discovered magic for the first time.
Dumbledore stared at her for a heartbeat. Then his eyes widened. A slow, delighted smile spread across his face, and suddenly the old wizard threw his head back and laughed — a rich, warm, genuinely thrilled sound that filled the entire living room.
"Singularis," he repeated, savouring the name. "By Merlin's beard… Miss Parkinson has done something extraordinary." He stood up, eyes twinkling brighter than they had in years. "Pansy! Where is that brilliant girl?"
He raised his voice just enough for the castle to carry it. "Pansy Parkinson! Come here at once, my dear!"
Within moments the others who were home began to appear.
Dan Granger walked in from the terrace, wiping his hands on a cloth, clearly having been helping with one of the garden projects. Bellatrix followed a few steps behind him, looking curious. Adorabella Greengrass stepped out of a side sitting room. From the direction of the extensive library, Severus Snape emerged with a book still in his hand, and Septima Vector appeared shortly after, adjusting her glasses.
Dumbledore didn't waste time. His voice was warm but urgent.
"Miss Parkinson has created a spell. Singularis. That can isolate and target any individual cell or group of cells in the body with absolute precision. Any location. Any number. Without harming surrounding tissue."
The room went very still.
Dan Granger was the first to truly grasp it. His eyes widened behind his glasses as the medical implications hit him like a Bludger. "My God… cancer. You could isolate every cancerous cell in a body. Not just tumours... leukaemia, metastatic cells, everything. Mark them all and then destroy only the bad ones. This… this could change everything."
Snape's dark eyes sharpened instantly. He understood a heartbeat later, the implications unfolding across his face like a complex potion formula. "Precise cellular level targeting," he murmured. "No collateral damage. The applications in healing... in curse damage... in every branch of magical medicine..."
Bellatrix's hand flew to her mouth. Adorabella looked stunned. Vector was already muttering calculations under her breath.
Dumbledore turned to Pansy, who had just arrived looking equal parts nervous and embarrassed. "My dear girl," he said warmly, "you have created something truly magnificent."
Pansy flushed deep red. "It… it was just an idea I had. I don't even know if it's—"
"It is," Snape cut in, voice firm but not unkind. He looked around. "Where is Potter?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Not here at the moment."
Snape gave a single decisive nod. "Then I will handle this myself." He turned to Pansy, expression serious but approving. "Miss Parkinson, with me. We are going to the Ministry right now to patent Singularis in your name. No delays. This cannot wait."
Pansy's eyes widened. "Right now? But—"
"Right now," Snape repeated, taking hold of her hand and then disapparating hurriedly, leaving behind the remaining group in excitement.
Dan let out a low whistle. "That girl just handed us keys to curing every disease in the world."
Dumbledore smiled softly, eyes distant with wonder. "Indeed. And once again, it came from the most unexpected place. Although I would say, I expect such things from Harry's friends."
"Speaking of which, where is our little monster?" Bellatrix asked.
"Professor," she began, voice still buzzing with leftover energy, "I wanted to ask you something."
Dumbledore set his teacup down gently and gave her his full attention, eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Of course, Miss Granger. What is it?"
Hermione took a small breath. "What's the maximum distance you can Apparate? Have you ever tested it?"
The question caught the entire room off guard. Vector raised an eyebrow. Bellatrix tilted her head and even Adorabella looked curious as to why Hermione was asking that question.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "An interesting question. I have never truly pushed myself to find the absolute limit. A few hundred miles has always been more than sufficient for my needs. Why do you ask?"
Hermione's eyes sparkled again. "Because Harry keeps doing things like this. A week ago he Apparated all the way to Cairo from Hogwarts. Just to get lunch. He said his current limit is around four thousand kilometres."
For the first time in a very long while, Albus Dumbledore's expression went completely blank.
Four thousand kilometres.
The number hung in the air like a spell that refused to dissipate. The old wizard stared at Hermione for several long seconds, his brilliant mind visibly working through the implications. A circle with a four-thousand-kilometre radius centred on Hogwarts would swallow most of Europe, large parts of North Africa, and reach deep into Asia and the Middle East. And Harry had done it silently. Without the slightest disturbance in the castle's ancient wards.
Dumbledore exhaled slowly, almost reverently.
"Four thousand kilometres," he repeated softly, almost to himself. "Across multiple countries. In complete silence." His eyes met Hermione's again, now filled with a mixture of awe and something almost like worry. "Miss Granger… what exactly is Harry's current MPU reading?"
Hermione didn't hesitate. "One million and twelve thousand, three hundred and forty-four MPUs. Classification and control both listed as Grand Sage. But he told us Grand Sage isn't the limit. He said there are at least three to four more tiers above it. Ron and I are already working on expanding the system to account for them."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Dan Granger let out a low whistle. Bellatrix's hand froze halfway to her mouth. Adorabella Greengrass looked faintly faint. Vector simply stared, her arithmancy-trained mind clearly spinning at dangerous speeds.
Dumbledore leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. For once, the legendary twinkle in his eyes was replaced by something deeper — genuine, breathless wonder.
"One million," he murmured. "And still climbing. The boy isn't just beyond Grand Sage… he is redefining what mortal magic can even mean." A soft, almost disbelieving chuckle escaped him. "And he tested his Apparition range by casually hopping to Egypt for takeaway. Of course he did."
He shook his head slowly, the smile returning, softer this time.
"Yes, I have been meaning to tell you about the same as well, but I never guessed that you and Mr. Weasley were already working on it."