A/N: Absorbed Cards:Ezio Auditore – Assassin's Creed, Shadow Clone Jutsu – Naruto, Force Push – Star Wars, Zuko (Book 3) – Avatar: TLA
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Tracey leans over a heavy tome, nodding at something Hermione circles with her quill.
Books are stacked around them in quiet chaos.
Tracey smiles politely. Hermione corrects something. Tracey does not flinch.
…
Daphne sits beside a Ravenclaw girl near the lake, head tilted in thought.
Later, she walks through the corridor with a Hufflepuff and Millicent on either side.
She pauses once to greet a Hufflepuff boy with a subtle nod. He beams.
…
A second-year boy rounds a corner, eyes locked on Tracey from afar.
He takes a step forward.
Blaise appears behind him.
The boy freezes. Blaise does not say a word. Just stares.
The boy turns and walks away. Fast.
…
Harry watches, amused, as Timothy strums his wand like a guitar.
Harry taps his fingers to the beat. Timothy sings something ridiculous.
Harry laughs.
It is the kind that lingers.
…
Ron looks toward the common room door.
Harry's bed is empty again.
He glances at his chess set, waiting for a player who never arrives.
He frowns.
…
Two clones stand at the edge of the practice room.
One fires a glowing red spell. The other blocks, counters, and vanishes.
Glacius coats the floor.
Bombarda shatters the stone wall.
They reset and start again.
…
Timothy sits alone in bed, flipping a red and white capsule between his fingers.
Beside him, a book lies open.
One word is underlined.
Basilisk.
Almost two months in, and already the castle breathes differently.
<><><><><><><>
Using Tempus shows when the time hits 12am, and I hear that familiar ping.
[+1 GP earned. Current GP: 50]
It has been some chaotic weeks. The itch has been constant, but finally I have prepared enough if I am to gain new powers.
The only item I used that was immediately useful was the weighted gloves that keep slightly increasing my strength, and I have noticed a difference.
The machine hums softly, already awake before I even touch it.
I tap the familiar panel.
[50 GP Detected]
[Spend 30 GP for a 10x pull?]
[YES]
The button flashes, then clicks.
CLANK.
CLACK.
CLUNK.
Ten capsules rattle into the golden chute. Nine roll with a familiar shimmer.
One lands last.
And glows gold.
It pulses like a heartbeat. Slow. Heavy. Alive.
I crouch and collect them, opening the usual mix first.
A refillable health flask, clean and glassy, already cool to the touch.
A camouflage poncho, ugly but functional.
A collapsible map, which unfolds and curls on its own.
A protein bar, sealed in sleek black wrapping.
A low-tech flashlight, solar powered and simple.
An arcane scanner, shaped like a rune-sculpted monocle.
The first power floats out in a flash of wind.
Blink—Rare
Short-range teleport. Cooldown: 30 seconds.
I grin. Movement skills are always worth it.
Next, a shimmer of deep purple.
Yennefer of Vengerberg—Epic Character Card
Chaos magic. Short-distance portals. Charm manipulation.
Smoke swirls in her silhouette. A smirk, a flash of violet eyes, and then dissolves into a card.
I barely have time to breathe before the next one opens.
Spirit Armor—Rare Power Card
Summons ethereal protection. Deflects one attack.
Good. Clean. Practical.
And then the final capsule.
Gold.
It hovers as I reach for it, rising off the chute like it knows.
The moment I touch it, the light flares.
Soft piano notes echo in the air.
A storm of starlight explodes above me, then collapses into a single point that spins, flashes, and unfolds into a glowing card etched with runes and stasis glyphs.
Infinite Vault of Holding—Legendary Item
Limitless inventory. Time-frozen storage. Summon and store with a word or gesture.
The card floats to my palm.
[System Integration Detected]
[Merging Inventory Function with Base Interface]
[Initializing Visual Presets, Loadouts, and Wardrobe Sync]
A ripple moves through the air.
Then I see it.
Not in the room, inside my interface.
A full-body projection of me, rotating slowly. Robes, gear slots, wands, and even cosmetic presets with toggle options.
I blink.
"Presets available: Formal / Combat / Training / Music / Field"
"Inventory unlocked: Infinite Storage (Time Locked)"
"Magic signature linked. Voice command or gesture-based access enabled."
I reach out and swipe through the panels with a thought.
I close the interface and exhale slowly.
Then I pump my fists in the air. Finally, an inventory and one of the best I could ask for. I quickly grab all my cards from my trunk and activate them one by one.
I store them all in my inventory with just a thought and see them vanish out of thin air. I look at my inventory interface and notice all the items neatly stored in small squares.
It looks like something straight out of a game, like Hogwarts Legacy, but cleaner. Easier. Mine.
I activate Blink and Spirit Armor but stare at one card specifically. Yennefer of Vengerberg, her magic is powerful, but I don't think it would match me very well.
Maybe I can give it to one of my allies in a few years. We will see. I store it in my inventory.
<><><><><><><>
"I still can't believe you're more into Muggle music than me," Harry says, grinning as we stretch out in the shade of a small courtyard.
We've been hanging out more openly since he got over the mess that is Draco Malfoy. The house tension never really went away, but Harry stopped caring. So did I.
Not all snakes are the same.
We've grown used to the looks. Green and red robes sitting side by side, laughing like it's normal. It's not. But maybe it will be.
"My mother is very accommodating with my weirdness," I say, tapping my wand against my leg in a slow beat. "Like I said before, only two members of my family followed Voldemort. And my father was left with no choice."
Harry's smile fades a little. "I never really understood how he got people to follow him. I always thought it was just… good versus evil. Clear lines. But now…"
He trails off, distracted by movement across the courtyard.
Ron.
He storms toward us, fists clenched, ears red, and jaw tight.
"You've got new best mates now, then?" He spits, his voice louder than necessary.
Harry stands, startled. "Ron, what are you talking about?"
Ron points at me like I'm something he stepped in. "You know they're all evil. Slimy snakes! His lot would sell you out in a second if they thought it'd get them a better seat at the table."
I stay seated. Calm. Watchful.
Harry's eyes flash. "He's not like Malfoy."
"He's Slytherin," Ron snaps. "That's all it takes."
"That's not all it takes!" Harry's voice rises. "You think I don't know what Malfoy is like? I've seen more kindness from Tim than I've ever seen from him."
Ron scoffs. "Yeah? Give it time. You'll find a dagger in your back soon enough."
I finally speak, quiet and even. "I'm sitting right here, Weasley. If you're going to accuse me of something, at least do it with some respect."
Ron ignores me. "You're being played, Harry. That's what they do."
"No," Harry says, voice flat. "That's what you're doing. You don't get to pick my friends. And if you think like that… Maybe you never knew me at all."
Ron flinches. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
He turns and walks away.
Harry stays standing. Silent. Breathing hard.
I stand beside him, not saying anything.
He finally looks at me. "I hate fighting. But I hate being told who I'm allowed to trust more."
I nod. "Then trust yourself."
He doesn't smile, but his shoulders relax.
We stay there, the silence between us louder than any argument.
<><><><><><><>
Some things are inevitable.
Walking down to the dungeons, I think back to what I just overheard from a pair of Ravenclaws near the stairwell. In Charms today, Ron snapped at Hermione, bad enough that she ran out in tears.
Tracey is going to be fuming if she hasn't heard already. She's started to actually care about Hermione. Not openly, not the way Tracey does most things, but it's there. And I know her well enough now to be sure of one thing, she will find Hermione before the feast, or someone will bleed trying.
My thoughts are interrupted.
There's a shift in the air. A stillness. Then the faint sound of breath where it doesn't belong.
Someone large is hiding behind the corner.
I do not break stride.
I round the corner with my wand loose in my sleeve and my mind already calculating five different outcomes.
Marcus Flint.
Six feet of badly brewed muscle stuffed into Slytherin robes a size too tight. His face is sour. His teeth are worse.
"I hear you've gotten real chummy with Potter," he says, stepping into my path. His breath smells like old arrogance.
"And why, pray tell, does it have anything to do with you?" I say, voice cold and even. Not a good time to test me. Not today.
He steps closer, just inside striking distance. "We don't mix with them. You know that."
"We?" I ask, raising a brow. "Or just you and the brain trust?"
He narrows his eyes. "You're making our house look soft."
I sigh. "Marcus. You don't care about house pride. You care that someone's getting more attention than you."
His jaw twitches. "You think you're better than the rest of us."
I look him over. Up. Down. Brief.
"I know I am."
His arm twitches. I see the moment he decides to raise his wand.
Too slow.
I step forward and raise mine with a flick while using the palm of my other, hidden.
Force Push
A sharp burst of pressure explodes from my palm. Pure kinetic magic slams into him like a wall of air and sound.
Flint flies backward. His feet leave the ground. He crashes into the dungeon wall with a heavy thud that knocks the breath out of him. Dust falls from the ceiling. His wand clatters to the floor.
I walk over slowly, each step deliberate.
He groans, trying to stand, but I stop in front of him and crouch down so we're eye to eye.
"You want to pick a fight with me? Come back when you've got more than muscle to offer."
I tap his dropped wand with my foot, then look him in the eye.
"Try something like this again, and the wall won't be the worst part."
I turn and walk away without looking back.
Let him sit in that silence. Let the stone remind him what it feels like to lose to someone smaller, smarter, and absolutely done playing nice.
Some lessons hit loud. Others hit fast.
That one? Needed both.