A Test of Power
Harry had never liked being a mystery—not to himself, not to others. His entire childhood had been filled with unanswered questions about his past, and even as an adult, it seemed like the universe wasn’t done throwing puzzles his way.
If Urahara had answers, then Harry was damn well going to get them.
“So,” Harry said, setting his tea aside. “How do we figure out what I am?”
Urahara’s grin widened, and something about it made Harry uneasy—like he had just stepped onto a chessboard without knowing the game.
“Oh, it’s quite simple,” Urahara said cheerfully. “We test you.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “Test me how?”
Ichigo groaned from the side. “You just had to ask, didn’t you?”
Before Harry could reply, Urahara stood up, clapping his hands. “Follow me, gentlemen! We’re heading downstairs.”
Harry exchanged a glance with Ichigo, who just sighed and jerked his head toward the back of the shop. “C’mon. You’ll see.”
The underground training area beneath Urahara’s shop was massive.
Harry stood at the edge of what looked like an underground wasteland—rocky terrain stretching far beyond what should have been possible. A training ground hidden beneath a small shop? Even by magical standards, that was impressive.
Urahara twirled his cane as he walked to the center of the clearing. “Alright, Potter. Show me what you can do.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Any specifics?”
Urahara grinned. “Nope. Just… impress me.”
Harry huffed out a quiet laugh. “Alright, then.” He stepped forward, rolling his shoulders before raising his wand. “Hope you’re ready.”
With a flick of his wrist, he sent a pulse of magic outward—Expulso! The ground erupted, sending a controlled explosion rippling through the air. Dust and debris shot upward, but Harry was already moving, shifting his grip as he muttered a sharp, Depulso! A surge of force blasted forward, cutting through the settling dust like a blade of wind.
Urahara’s eyes gleamed. “Interesting…”
Harry wasn’t done. With a quick flourish, he called forth Protego, summoning a shimmering golden shield around him. He held it for only a second before twisting his magic, converting the defensive spell into an offensive burst—an old trick he had developed after the war. The energy lashed outward like a wave, carving a deep crack into the ground.
When the dust settled, Harry stood firm, wand steady at his side.
Ichigo let out a low whistle. “Okay, that was kinda cool.”
Urahara, however, looked thrilled. “Fascinating! You don’t channel Reiryoku like a Shinigami or Quincy… your power feels different—structured, yet adaptable.” He rubbed his chin. “And you converted a shield spell into an attack? That’s not something easily done.”
Harry lowered his wand. “So? Any ideas?”
Urahara studied him for a long moment before his grin returned. “Oh, I have many ideas.” He turned to Ichigo. “Looks like you’ve got a new training partner.”
Ichigo groaned. “Great. More work.”
Harry smirked. “You’re acting like I’m the one who just gave you homework.”
Ichigo shot him a glare. “Trust me, training with Urahara isn’t fun.”
Urahara, still grinning, clapped his hands. “Now, Potter, let’s see what happens when we really push you.”
Harry exhaled, tightening his grip on his wand.
He had come to Karakura Town for peace.
Instead, it looked like he had just signed up for war all over again.