Hello, Drinor here. I'm happy to publish a new Chapter of The Dark Side of Magic.
If you want to Read 8 More Chapters Right NoW. Search 'patreon.com/Drinor' on Websearch
Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, and Chapter 26 are already available for Patrons.
Harry's nose twitched at the peculiar smell of freedom—a curious blend of ancient stonework, the faint traces of breakfast that had wafted up from the Great Hall hours ago, and the absence of Madam Pomfrey's medicinal potions. After seven days confined to the hospital wing, even the familiar corridor outside felt like an exotic location worthy of exploration.
"Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey called from the doorway behind him. "Remember what I said. No strenuous activity for at least another week. And if you experience any unusual symptoms—dizziness, sensations of cold, or difficulty with your magic—you are to return immediately."
Harry hitched his bag higher on his shoulder and turned, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey. Thank you for everything."
Her stern expression softened just slightly. "Off with you, then. And do try to finish the school year without any more heroics, won't you?"
As if I went looking for trouble in the first place, Harry thought with a touch of irritation, though he kept his polite smile firmly in place.
As he made his way through the castle corridors, Harry couldn't help but notice how conversations faltered when he passed. Students who had barely acknowledged his existence before were now nudging their friends, pointing when they thought he wasn't looking. A group of Hufflepuff second-years actually applauded as he walked by, making Harry's cheeks burn with self-consciousness.
"Merlin's beard, you'd think I'd defeated Voldemort in single combat," he muttered under his breath.
"In their minds, you did," Anakin's voice replied, the first words his mentor had spoken to him today. "Stories grow in the telling, Harry. By now, half the school believes you dueled Quirrell while walking on the ceiling and firing lightning from your fingertips."
Harry snorted. "Well, the lightning part isn't that far off."
The silence that followed made Harry wince. Clearly, Master Anakin wasn't ready for jokes about what had happened in the mirror chamber.
The Fat Friar drifted through a wall ahead, nodding respectfully as he passed. Even the ghosts were treating him differently. Harry quickened his pace, eager to reach the relative sanctuary of Ravenclaw Tower.
When he arrived at the bronze eagle-head knocker, it regarded him with what seemed like newfound respect.
"Welcome back, young Ravenclaw," it intoned. "Your riddle: I am taken from a mine, and shut in a wooden case. From which I am never released, yet used by almost everyone. What am I?"
Harry considered for a moment. "Pencil lead," he answered. "Or graphite, I suppose."
"Well reasoned," the knocker replied, and the door swung open.
The Ravenclaw common room fell silent as Harry stepped inside. Dozens of eyes turned toward him, momentarily freezing him in place. Then Anna Bones broke from a cluster of fourth-years and hurried toward him.
"About time you escaped Pomfrey's clutches!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a quick, fierce hug that caught Harry by surprise. "We were beginning to think she'd decided to keep you as a permanent exhibit."
Her casual warmth broke the tension in the room. Several students called out greetings or welcome-backs, and the usual buzz of conversation gradually resumed.
"How are you really feeling?" Anna asked more quietly, leading him toward a blue armchair near one of the tall windows.
Harry sank into the seat gratefully. "Like I've been trampled by a herd of hippogriffs, then patched back together with Spellotape," he admitted. "But don't tell Pomfrey that, or she'll drag me back by my ear."
Anna laughed. "Your secret's safe with me." She glanced around, then lowered her voice. "Listen, people have been talking nonstop about what happened. The rumors are completely mad—everything from you transforming into a phoenix to you being secretly trained by Dumbledore since birth."
"What have you told them?" Harry asked warily.
Anna raised an eyebrow. "Nothing, obviously. It's not my story to tell. But..." She hesitated. "Tonks did mention some things. Wandless magic. You appearing in the chamber when no one knew you were coming."
Harry grimaced. "Is she okay? I haven't seen her since—"
"She's fine," Anna assured him. "Been spending a lot of time at the dueling club, actually. Says it helps take her mind off things." She gave him a meaningful look. "Speaking of which, Flitwick's been asking about you. Said to send you his way when you got out."
Harry glanced at the clock on the wall. "I should probably go see him now, then. Before dinner."
"Want company for the walk?"
Harry shook his head. "Thanks, but I think I need to do this on my own."
As he made his way to Professor Flitwick's office, Harry mentally rehearsed his apology. The dueling club had been one of the few bright spots of his year, and he'd let the professor down by missing so many sessions.
"You are overthinking this," Anakin observed. "Professor Flitwick strikes me as a reasonable man. He understands you were injured."
"It's not just that," Harry replied silently. "I missed the qualifiers. I let him down after he made a special exception to let me join."
He arrived at Flitwick's office and knocked tentatively.
"Enter!" called the professor's high, cheerful voice.
Flitwick's office reflected its owner's eclectic nature—part academic retreat with towering bookshelves, part dueling trophy room with gleaming cups and plaques, and part cozy sitting room with comfortable chairs arranged around a small fireplace. The diminutive professor himself was perched on a stack of cushions behind his desk, grading what appeared to be exam papers.
"Ah, Mr. Potter!" Flitwick squeaked in delight, setting down his quill. "Wonderful to see you up and about! Please, take a seat."
Harry sat in the chair opposite the desk, his feet actually touching the ground for once. "Professor, I wanted to apologize for missing the dueling club meetings. I know I've missed the qualifiers for the end-of-year tournament, and—"
Flitwick waved a hand dismissively. "My dear boy, there's no need for apologies. You were recovering from injuries sustained while saving another student! If anything, I should be awarding points for such Ravenclaw loyalty."
"It wasn't just loyalty," Harry said quietly. "Tonks is my friend."
Flitwick's expression softened. "Indeed she is, and a talented one at that." His eyes twinkled. "As a matter of fact, Miss Tonks has advanced quite remarkably in the tournament. She'll be competing in the final against Mr. Samuel Blackwood."
Harry blinked in surprise. "But Blackwood's a seventh year. And he was junior dueling champion for the Southeast region last summer."
"You've been paying attention," Flitwick noted approvingly. "Yes, Mr. Blackwood is quite accomplished. But Miss Tonks has a particular... unpredictability that has served her well." He smiled. "Her Metamorphmagus abilities combined with her quick reflexes make her a formidable opponent."
"I had no idea she'd made it so far," Harry said, genuinely impressed. "I knew she was good, but..."
"Miss Tonks frequently underestimates herself," Flitwick observed. "A trait she shares with another promising student sitting in my office." His expression grew more serious. "As for the dueling club, Mr. Potter, there will always be next year. You are, after all, only a first-year—the youngest member we've had in decades. The fact that you qualified at all speaks volumes."
Harry felt a weight lift from his shoulders. "Thank you, Professor."
"Now," Flitwick continued, "regarding your academic standing. Professor McGonagall and I have discussed your situation, and we've agreed that you may take your end-of-year exams on a slightly delayed schedule if necessary."
"That won't be needed, sir," Harry said quickly. "I've been keeping up with the readings in the hospital wing. And I'm sure Hermione has notes for anything I've missed."
Flitwick chuckled. "Miss Granger's note-taking is indeed legendary already. Very well, but do let me know if you require any accommodations." He peered at Harry over his spectacles. "And how are you feeling otherwise? Madam Pomfrey mentioned some... unusual aspects to your recovery."
Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I'm fine, Professor. Just a bit tired still."
Flitwick seemed to consider pressing further, then thought better of it. "Well, my door is always open should you wish to discuss anything. Anything at all." He smiled again. "Now, I believe dinner will be served soon, and I imagine you're quite tired of hospital food."
Taking the dismissal, Harry stood and thanked the professor once more before heading back toward Ravenclaw Tower. As he walked, he reached out mentally to Master Anakin.
"Master? Are we... I mean, will we resume training?"
There was a noticeable pause before Anakin replied. "Yes, Harry. But we must establish some boundaries."
The words held a formality that made Harry's chest tighten. Gone was the easy camaraderie they'd shared before the confrontation with Quirrell.
"What kind of boundaries?" Harry asked cautiously.
"We will focus exclusively on control and defense," Anakin said firmly. "Techniques that ground you in the light side of the Force. No offensive applications for now."
Harry bit back his initial protest. "And if I'm attacked again?"
"Then you can use offensive spells that you are taught or learned yourself, the Force is not the only ally you have," Anakin replied evenly. "But Harry, what happened in that chamber—what you did—it's left a mark on you. Can you feel it?"
Harry paused in a quiet corridor, closing his eyes to focus inward. There was something there—a cold spot deep within him, like a sliver of ice that refused to melt. It had been there since he woke in the hospital wing, a constant reminder of the power he'd touched.
"Yes," he admitted. "I can feel it."
"Then you understand why we must proceed with caution," Anakin said, his tone softening slightly. "I'm not abandoning your training, Harry. I'm adapting it to address a new challenge."
A new challenge he thinks I created, Harry thought with a flash of resentment, though he kept this to himself. Aloud—or rather, in his mind—he simply said, "I understand, Master."
Dinner in the Great Hall was an exercise in patience as Harry endured the stares and whispers. He focused on his food, responding politely but briefly when fellow Ravenclaws spoke to him. Midway through the meal, he spotted Hermione, looking his way with obvious concern.
When dinner ended, he intercepted her before she could leave.
"Hi, Hermione," he said. "I was wondering if I could borrow your notes from the past week? Madam Pomfrey let me keep up with the readings, but I missed the lectures."
Hermione's face lit up. "Of course! I've actually prepared a complete packet for you—color-coded by subject, with cross-references to the textbook pages and additional recommended readings for any concepts that might be unclear."
Harry blinked. "That's... incredibly thoughtful. Thank you."
"It was no trouble at all," she insisted, though Harry suspected it had been a significant undertaking. "I've included a study schedule too, to help you prepare for exams. We only have three weeks left, you know."
"Three weeks," Harry echoed, somewhat dazed by how much time had passed. "Right."
"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed with concern. "You look a bit peaky."
I've got a shard of darkness in my soul, and my Force mentor thinks I might be going Sith, but otherwise, I'm peachy, Harry thought wryly.
"Just tired," he said instead. "First day back and all."
Hermione nodded sympathetically. "Well, don't overdo it. The notes will be in the library tomorrow morning—I still need to finish the Potions section tonight."
"You're a lifesaver, Hermione. Literally, considering the amount of stuff Snape's going to try to fail me on."
She smiled and hesitated, then surprised him with a quick hug. "I'm glad you're okay, Harry." Before he could respond, she hurried off toward the library.
The next morning, Harry woke before dawn, his body remembering the routine even after a week of inactivity. He slipped quietly from his bed and changed into workout clothes. Despite Anakin's reservations and Madam Pomfrey's warnings, he needed this—needed to feel the Force flowing through him again, needed to know that part of his life hadn't been irreparably damaged.
He made his way to their usual training spot—a secluded courtyard accessible through a window at the base of Ravenclaw Tower. The sky was just beginning to lighten, casting the world in shades of blue and gray.
"Are you certain this is wise?" Anakin asked as Harry began his stretches. "Madam Pomfrey was quite clear about avoiding strenuous activity."
"I'm not planning to run marathons," Harry replied. "Just some basic exercises and meditation." He looked up. "Unless you'd rather I not train at all?"
He heard Anakin sigh—a sound that always fascinated Harry, given that his mentor didn't actually need to breathe.
"Very well. But we will focus exclusively on centering exercises today. Nothing physically demanding."
Harry nodded, settling into a cross-legged position on the cool stone. He closed his eyes, seeking the familiar flow of the Force.
It came more easily than ever before, rushing through him like a river finding a well-worn channel. But there was something different about it now—a new awareness, as if he could sense its currents and eddies with greater clarity.
"Your connection has deepened," Anakin observed, surprise evident in his voice. "And changed."
Harry nodded without opening his eyes. "It feels... closer somehow. Like there's less distance between it and me."
"That can happen after intense Force experiences," Anakin said cautiously. "But be mindful of where that power leads you, Harry. The dark side offers quick paths to power, but they are treacherous."
Harry opened his eyes and looked up at the lightening sky. "I saved Tonks," he said quietly. "Whatever the cost, it was worth it."
"I'm not saying that it wasn't, I understand the desire to save a friend," Anakin said softly. "But what if next time, the darkness asks for more?"
Harry had no answer for that. Instead, he rose smoothly to his feet, the Force lending him a grace that belied his recent injuries.
"Show me the centering techniques," he said, changing the subject. "I want to be ready when term resumes."
Anakin was silent for a moment, as if debating whether to push the issue further. Then his tone shifted to that of a teacher.
"Very well. We'll begin with the Form of the Still Water. Clear your mind of all thoughts, all emotions, and focus on creating a perfect mental calm..."
As Harry followed the familiar instructions, he felt a tentative peace settle between him and his mentor. They weren't back to normal— but this was a beginning.
And for now, that would have to be enough.
⏃
⏃
The late afternoon sun slanted through the glass panes of Greenhouse Three, creating a kaleidoscope of dappled light and shadow among the exotic plants. Harry inhaled deeply, enjoying the earthy scent of fresh soil and the subtle perfume of the flowering specimens. After a week of the hospital wing's antiseptic cleanliness, the greenhouse's controlled chaos felt wonderfully alive.
He navigated carefully around a cluster of quivering Shrivelfigs, making his way toward the back corner where he'd spotted Neville Longbottom tending to what appeared to be a tray of seedlings. The Gryffindor boy was so absorbed in his work that he didn't notice Harry's approach until he was only a few feet away.
"Oh!" Neville startled, nearly dropping his watering can. "Harry! I didn't see you there."
"Sorry," Harry said quickly. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you."
Neville set down the watering can and wiped his hands on his already soil-streaked robes. "No, it's fine. I just get a bit... focused sometimes." He gestured to the seedlings. "Professor Garlick's letting me start Floating Lilies from seed. They're really tricky—they can sense if you're nervous when you water them, and they'll refuse to take root if they don't like your energy."
Harry peered at the tiny plants with newfound interest. "They can sense emotions?"
"Sort of," Neville explained, his usual hesitancy vanishing as he discussed his favorite subject. "Not like people, obviously, but they're sensitive to magical auras. Professor Garlick says most living things are, to some degree."
I wonder if that's related to how the Force connects all living things, Harry thought, making a mental note to ask his Master later.
"You seem to have a real gift for this."
Neville blushed at the compliment. "It's the only thing I'm not completely rubbish at," he mumbled.
"That's not true," Harry protested. "You've improved loads in Defense since the beginning of the year."
"Only because you helped me with those jinx deflection exercises," Neville countered, but a small smile tugged at his lips. He hesitated, then added more quietly, "I heard what happened. With Professor Quirrell, I mean. Everyone's talking about it."
Harry tensed slightly. "What exactly did you hear?"
"Different versions," Neville admitted. "Some people are saying you dueled him to protect the Philosopher's Stone. Others say he was possessed by... by You-Know-Who." Neville's voice dropped to a whisper on the last words, his face paling.
"What do you think happened?" Harry asked carefully.
Neville's eyes widened slightly at being asked his opinion, as if it were an unusual occurrence. "I think... I think whatever happened, you did something really brave." He looked down at his dirt-stained hands. "I wish I had that kind of courage."
Harry shook his head. "It wasn't bravery, Neville. It was desperation. Tonks was in danger, and I just... reacted." He considered his next words carefully. "Besides, there are different kinds of courage."
"Like what?" Neville asked skeptically.
"Like standing up to Malfoy when he was bullying those first-year Hufflepuffs, even though you were outnumbered," Harry pointed out. "Or like coming back to Potions class every week, even after Snape humiliates you."
"That's not bravery," Neville protested. "That's just... enduring."
"Sometimes that's what bravery is," Harry said, thinking of his years with the Dursleys. "Enduring the bad stuff and not letting it break you."
Neville looked thoughtful, absently stroking the leaf of a nearby plant in a way that made it curl contentedly around his finger. "My gran says my dad was brave—the traditional kind, I mean. Fighting dark wizards, standing up to You-Know-Who." His expression clouded. "I don't think I'm much like him."
Harry frowned, realizing he knew almost nothing about Neville's family. "Your dad was an Auror?"
Neville nodded. "Both my parents were. They..." he swallowed hard, "Let's talk about something else." Neville said with an eager face.
Harry thought of his own parents, of the countless times he'd longed for any connection to them.
"I think," Harry said slowly, "that maybe you're more like your dad than you realize. Different circumstances bring out different kinds of courage."
Neville looked unconvinced but offered a small smile anyway. "Thanks, Harry." He glanced at the greenhouse door. "We should probably head back soon. It'll be dinnertime."
As if on cue, the door swung open, and Susan Bones entered, shielding her eyes against the slanting sunlight.
"There you are!" she called, spotting them in the back corner. "I've been looking all over for you, Harry."
"Is everything alright?" Harry asked, immediately concerned.
Susan hurried over, nearly tripping over a coiled tendril of Devil's Snare that had escaped its confines. "Everything's fine—better than fine, actually. I've just had an owl from Aunt Amelia."
"Your aunt?" Harry remembered the stern-looking woman.
"Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Susan explained for Neville's benefit. "She wants to meet with you over the summer, Harry. About what happened with Quirrell."
Harry frowned. "Am I in trouble?"
"What? No!" Susan laughed. "Quite the opposite. She's impressed with how you handled yourself." Her expression grew more serious. "She's been investigating Quirrell's activities over the past year. Turns out he visited some really strange places during his sabbatical—occult sites in Eastern Europe, ancient ruins with dark histories."
"Did she find anything about... the other presence that was with him?" Harry asked cautiously.
Susan shook her head. "She didn't mention anything specific in her letter. But she did say she has 'matters of significance' to discuss with you." She mimicked her aunt's formal tone perfectly, making both boys smile despite the serious subject.
"The thing is," Susan continued, "she also said that if you wanted to, you could come stay with us for part of the summer. Anna and I both wrote to her about... well, about your relatives." She looked slightly embarrassed. "Anna mentioned they're not very nice."
That's putting it mildly, Harry thought, a spark of hope igniting in his chest. "She'd let me stay with you? Just like that?" Harry had stayed with them during Christmas, but that was because he saved Anna from the troll. He was sure that debt was already paid.
"Well, there would be conditions," Susan admitted. "Security measures and such. Aunt Amelia is very thorough about that sort of thing. But she said Dumbledore might be amenable if the proper protections were in place."
Neville looked between them, clearly confused but not wanting to pry. "That sounds brilliant, Harry."
"It really does," Harry agreed. A summer away from the Dursleys. A summer with people who actually wanted him around. The prospect was almost too good to believe.
"You don't have to decide right away," Susan assured him. "But I thought you'd want to know it's an option." She smiled warmly. "Anna would be thrilled, of course. She's taken quite a shine to you since the troll incident."
Harry felt his cheeks warm slightly. "She's been a good friend," he said honestly. "You both are."
Susan beamed. "Well, what are Hufflepuffs known for if not loyalty?"
"And what's Ravenclaw known for if not being late to dinner due to being caught up in interesting conversations?" came a new voice from the doorway. Hermione stood there, hands on her hips in mock exasperation. "Everyone's already headed to the Great Hall."
"Coming, coming," Harry called, exchanging amused glances with Susan and Neville. They gathered their things quickly, careful not to disturb any of the more temperamental plants.
As they made their way back to the castle, Harry found himself walking beside Susan while Hermione had engaged Neville in a detailed discussion about the magical properties of Floating Lilies.
"Your aunt," Harry said quietly. "Is she investigating because she thinks there's still a threat?"
Susan considered this, her normally cheerful face turning thoughtful. "Aunt Amelia doesn't take chances when it comes to dark wizards. If she's looking into Quirrell's background this thoroughly, it means she thinks there's more to the story."
"There is," Harry said, almost to himself.
Susan glanced at him sharply. "You know something, don't you? Something you haven't told anyone."
Harry hesitated. How could he possibly explain about the Force, about Anakin, about the strange dream-vision he'd experienced while unconscious?
"It's complicated," he finally said. "And some of it... I'm not sure I understand it myself yet."
To his surprise, Susan nodded acceptingly. "Well, that's what summer's for, isn't it? Figuring things out." She bumped her shoulder gently against his. "And I promise our house is much better for thinking than a hospital wing."
The simple acceptance in her offer—no pressure, no demands for explanations—made something tight in Harry's chest loosen slightly.
"Thanks, Susan," he said, meaning it more than she could know.
As they entered the Great Hall, rejoining the flow of students heading for dinner, Harry felt better than he had since waking in the hospital wing. The prospect of a summer away from Privet Drive, of having friends who stood by him even when they didn't understand everything, gave him a sense of hope he hadn't realized he'd been missing.
Maybe, he thought as they took their seats at their respective house tables, I really can find a balance between power and control. Between what I need to do and what I need to become.
The seed of darkness inside him stirred at the thought, but for once, Harry didn't push it away. Instead, he acknowledged its presence calmly, neither embracing nor rejecting it.
I will master this, he promised himself. Whatever it takes.
Across the hall, he caught Tonks's eye at the Hufflepuff table. She grinned and gave him a thumbs-up, her hair briefly flashing his favorite shade of turquoise before returning to its current purple spikes.
For his friends—for Tonks, for Susan and Anna, for Hermione and Neville—he would find a way to be both powerful enough to protect them and wise enough not to lose himself in the process.
It was, he reflected as he filled his plate, quite possibly the greatest challenge Master Anakin had set before him yet.
⏃
⏃
Dawn broke over Hogwarts with a gentle persistence, painting the stone walls in warm gold and chasing away the last shadows of night. Harry stood alone in their training spot. He'd arrived early, eager for what would be their most intensive training session since his recovery.
The past two weeks had seen a gradual thawing in Anakin's reserve. Their morning sessions had slowly expanded from basic meditation to include physical conditioning and some of their previous Force exercises. But there remained an invisible boundary that neither had crossed—the subject of what happened in the mirror chamber, and more specifically, what Harry had done there.
Today, Harry had decided, that would change.
"You're up early," Anakin's voice echoed in his head. "Your determination is admirable, but your body still needs proper rest."
Harry stretched deliberately, letting the Force flow through his muscles. "I feel fine. Better than fine, actually."
"The body often lies about its limitations," Anakin observed dryly. "Especially to stubborn young minds."
"Says the disembodied voice who doesn't have to worry about pulled muscles," Harry retorted with a small grin.
A familiar warmth—something Harry had sorely missed—colored Anakin's reply. "Trust me, if I had a physical form, I'd demonstrate proper stretching techniques rather than watch you flail about like a Gungan attempting ballet."
"A what attempting what?" Harry laughed.
"Never mind," Anakin said, the smile evident in his voice. "Cultural references from another galaxy tend to lose something in translation."
Harry completed his warm-up exercises, then stood at the ready. "So what are we working on today? More Force-enhanced reflexes? Or are we still stuck on meditation?"
Anakin was silent for a moment. "Today, I think we should talk."
Harry's shoulders tensed involuntarily. "About what happened with Quirrell?"
"About balance," Anakin corrected. "Sit with me, Harry."
Harry complied, settling cross-legged on the cool stone of the courtyard. The morning air was crisp but not uncomfortable, carrying the scent of the lake and the forest beyond.
"During our time together," Anakin began, "I've taught you many techniques—how to sense the Force, how to move objects, how to enhance your physical abilities. But I've given you relatively little instruction about the nature of the Force itself."
"You've told me about the light side and the dark side," Harry pointed out.
"Yes, but perhaps too simplistically." Anakin's tone held a note of regret. "The Force is not merely divided into 'good' and 'evil.' It's far more complex."
Harry frowned. "But you've always said the dark side is dangerous."
"And it is," Anakin confirmed. "But not because it is inherently evil. It's dangerous because it feeds on our most primal emotions—fear, anger, desire for control—and amplifies them. It offers power, seemingly without cost, until the cost becomes everything you are."
"You sound like you know from experience," Harry observed carefully.
A long silence followed, so extended that Harry wondered if he'd overstepped. When Anakin finally spoke, his voice carried a weight Harry had never heard before.
"During the Clone Wars," he said, "I was considered one of the Jedi Order's greatest warriors. A hero, many called me." There was no pride in his tone, only a quiet weariness. "But within me, there was always conflict. Attachment, fear of loss, anger at injustice—feelings the Jedi taught me should let go, rather than keep."
Harry listened intently, aware that Anakin had never shared so much of his past before.
"I loved too deeply," Anakin continued softly. "And when I began to fear losing those I loved, the dark side offered solutions the light could not—or would not. It whispered of power beyond imagining, power to save, to protect, to control destiny itself."
"Like when I feared losing Tonks," Harry said, understanding dawning.
"Exactly like that." Anakin's voice grew earnest. "Harry, listen carefully—the path to darkness is paved with the noblest intentions. No one falls to the dark side believing they're doing wrong. They fall believing they're doing what's necessary. What's right."
Harry thought of the cold determination he'd felt when he summoned the darkshear, the righteous anger that had fueled his attack on Quirrell. "So you're saying I shouldn't have saved Tonks?"
"No," Anakin said firmly. "I'm saying there are many paths to any destination. You chose the quickest, the most direct—but also the most dangerous. There are other ways to channel the Force, even in desperate moments."
"Like what?" Harry asked, skepticism evident in his tone.
"That's what I want to show you today," Anakin replied. "Stand up."
Harry rose to his feet, curious despite his lingering defensiveness.
"What do you know about Force barriers?" Anakin asked.
Harry frowned thoughtfully. "You've taught me to create simple shields—mostly to deflect physical objects."
"Those are rudimentary applications," Anakin explained. "Today, I'm going to teach you something more advanced: a technique called Force Protection."
"What's the difference?"
"The shields you've learned are external projections—they exist outside yourself. Force Protection involves surrounding yourself—or others—with the Force directly, creating a barrier that can absorb or neutralize energy attacks."
Harry's eyes widened. "Like Quirrell's blue energy?"
"Precisely," Anakin said grimly. "It's an advanced technique, one that requires intense concentration and connection to the light side of the Force. But had you known it, you might have been able to protect Tonks without resorting to darkness."
Harry felt a strange mix of emotions—eagerness to learn, frustration that he hadn't known this before, and a small, petulant voice wondering why Anakin hadn't taught him this earlier.
"I can sense your question," Anakin said, seemingly reading his thoughts. "Why didn't I teach you this before? Because it typically takes years of training before a Jedi can successfully maintain Force Protection under duress. But your connection to the Force has... changed since your confrontation with Quirrell and Voldemort. I believe you might be ready now."
"Changed how?" Harry asked.
"It's deeper. More intuitive." Anakin sounded both impressed and concerned. "Almost as if..."
"As if what?"
Anakin seemed to hesitate. "As if you've gained insights that usually come only with years of study. The wraith that passed through you—I believe it may have left behind more than just darkness. Knowledge, perhaps, or at least an affinity for certain aspects of the Force."
Harry remembered the strange dream he'd experienced while unconscious—the conversation about midi-chlorians, the laboratory, the alien being. Had those been more than just dreams? Memories, perhaps?
"Is that... bad?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Not inherently," Anakin replied. "But it means we must be even more vigilant about your training. Now, shall we begin?"
For the next hour, Anakin guided Harry through the principles of Force Protection. Unlike the aggressive, instinctive nature of the dark side techniques Harry had inadvertently accessed, this required a state of calm certainty, an unwavering connection to the light side of the Force.
"Imagine the Force as a flowing river of light," Anakin instructed. "Don't grasp at it or try to bend it to your will. Instead, immerse yourself in it, become one with its current, and then gently direct it around you like water flowing around a stone."
Harry closed his eyes, following Anakin's guidance. At first, he struggled—his usual approach involved a certain amount of mental 'pushing,' which Anakin kept correcting.
"Don't force it," his mentor repeated. "Allow it."
Harry exhaled slowly, letting go of his frustration. He thought of all the times he'd felt truly at peace—soaring on a broom high above, sitting by the lake with Tonks and Anna, the first moment he'd stepped into Hogwarts and felt like he'd come home.
Gradually, he began to sense it—a different kind of Force connection. Not the rushing torrent of power he'd experienced when angry or desperate, but something steadier, calmer, yet no less potent.
"Good," Anakin encouraged. "Now extend it outward, like creating a second skin of pure energy."
Harry focused, imagining the light expanding from within him, forming a protective cocoon. To his surprise, it happened almost effortlessly—as if his body remembered doing this before, though he knew he never had.
"I feel it," he whispered, eyes still closed. The sensation was extraordinary—a warm, pulsing shield of energy that hummed with life.
"Open your eyes," Anakin instructed.
Harry did, and gasped. A subtle golden glow surrounded him, visible only as a faint shimmer in the air, like heat rising from sun-baked stone.
"This is incredible," he breathed. "It doesn't feel difficult at all."
"That," Anakin said with a note of wonder, "is what concerns me. A Padawan—a Jedi apprentice—would typically struggle with this technique for months before achieving what you just did in under an hour."
The shield flickered and faded as Harry's concentration broke. "Maybe I'm just a natural," he suggested with a small, hopeful smile.
"Perhaps," Anakin conceded, though he didn't sound convinced. "Let's test it. Find some small stones and throw them at yourself."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You want me to throw rocks at myself?"
"Do you have a better idea to test your shield?" Anakin asked dryly. "I can't exactly pick things up to test it myself."
"Fair point," Harry muttered, gathering a handful of small pebbles from the courtyard. He stood and reestablished the protection with surprising ease, the faint golden shimmer surrounding him once more.
"Start gently," Anakin instructed.
Harry tossed a small pebble at his chest. It hit the barrier and bounced off with a soft pulse of light.
"Good," Anakin said. "Now with more force."
Harry threw several stones in quick succession, each hitting the shield and rebounding away harmlessly.
"Impressive," Anakin admitted. "Now for a real test. Use the Force to levitate several stones and direct them at your shield simultaneously."
Harry extended his hand, focusing on a collection of larger pebbles. They rose into the air, hovering for a moment before he sent them hurtling toward himself from different angles. The shield flared brightly at each impact but remained intact.
"Now," Anakin continued, "try to extend it beyond yourself. Imagine protecting someone standing beside you."
This proved more challenging. Harry visualized Tonks beside him, tried to stretch his protection to cover her imagined form. The shield wavered, thinning dangerously.
"It's harder," he grunted through gritted teeth.
"Of course it is," Anakin replied. "Protecting others always demands more than protecting ourselves. It requires genuine selflessness—the willingness to leave yourself vulnerable to shield another."
With a final effort, Harry managed to extend the shield to encompass the space beside him. To test it, he Force-lifted one last stone and directed it at the spot where he imagined Tonks standing. The pebble bounced away just as the others had, but the effort proved too much—his shield collapsed entirely a moment later. Harry staggered slightly, suddenly aware of how much energy the exercise had drained.
"That's enough for today," Anakin said firmly.
Harry wiped sweat from his brow, nodding agreement despite his desire to continue. "How did I do?"
"Honestly? Unnervingly well." Anakin's tone held both pride and concern. "Your affinity for this technique should have taken years to develop."
"But that's good, right?" Harry asked, dropping onto a stone bench as his legs suddenly felt too wobbly to support him. "It means I don't need to use... the other way."
"It's good if you earned this ability through proper training and understanding," Anakin said carefully. "Less so if it was... transferred somehow."
Harry tensed. "You think whatever was in Quirrell besides Voldemort—the Sith Lord you mentioned—somehow gave me this ability?"
"I don't know," Anakin admitted. "The Force works in mysterious ways, even to those who have studied it for lifetimes. But we must be cautious, Harry. True mastery is not merely about what you can do, but understanding why and how you can do it."
They sat in contemplative silence for a moment, watching as the morning sun climbed higher, burning away the last wisps of dawn mist.
"So," Harry finally said, a hint of his old cheekiness returning, "does this mean we're back to proper training? Or are you still going to treat me like I'm made of glass?"
Anakin chuckled. "I suppose we can resume more comprehensive training—within reasonable limits."
"Excellent," Harry grinned. "Because I've been thinking about that Super Force Jump technique, and I reckon I could probably clear the astronomy tower if I really tried."
"Absolutely not!" Anakin sounded genuinely alarmed. "Super Force jumping requires precision and control, not youthful enthusiasm and a complete disregard for gravity!"
"I was joking," Harry laughed, though part of him had been entirely serious. "Mostly."
"That's what worries me," Anakin muttered. "You're developing Ahsoka's reckless streak."
"Is that a bad thing?" Harry asked innocently.
"Let's just say that Ahsoka caused me enough heart attacks for several lifetimes," Anakin replied dryly. "Though I suppose spectral mentors don't have to worry about heart health."
Harry's smile widened at this glimpse of Anakin's past. "You'll have to tell me more about her sometime. Your Padawan."
"Perhaps," Anakin said, a warmth in his voice that suggested fond memories. "But not today. We should return before your housemates notice your absence."
As they made their way back toward the castle, Harry felt something shift between them—not a complete return to their former ease, but the beginning of something new.
"Master?" he said as they reached the window that would lead them back inside.
"Yes, Harry?"
"I understand what you were trying to tell me before—about the dark side being a quicker path but not the better one." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "I can't promise I'll never use it again if someone I care about is in danger. But I'll try to find better ways first."
Anakin was silent for a long moment. "That," he finally said, "is all any master can ask of their student." There was a smile in his voice as he added, "Besides, if you keep mastering light side techniques at this pace, you'll be teaching me new tricks before your third year."
Harry grinned as he climbed through the window. "Now there's a goal worth working toward."
"Don't get cocky, young one," Anakin warned, though Harry could hear the smile in his voice. "I still have a few decades of experience on you."
"For now," Harry replied cheekily. "For now."
As they bantered back and forth, Harry felt the heaviness that had lingered between them since the mirror chamber begin to lift. There was still uncertainty ahead—questions about his new abilities, about the Sith Lord's connection to Voldemort, about the strange dream-visions he'd experienced.
But for the first time since waking in the hospital wing, Harry felt like he and Anakin were truly on the same side again.
If you want to Read 8 More Chapters Right NoW. Search 'patreon.com/Drinor' on Websearch