Chapter 35
Harry disapparated with Draco the moment they crossed the boundary of Elyndra’s domain, reappearing instantly in the sitting room of the palace in Valmoria.
As soon as the raven-haired boy’s feet touched the floor, he started pacing back and forth, fists clenched at his sides, his lips moving in a constant whisper.
Draco remained still for a moment, watching him. He couldn’t quite make out what he was saying—his words crumbled between murmurs, too quick, too disordered to be fully grasped. But just looking at his aura was enough to know he was unsettled. A chaotic fire swirled around him, a restless energy burning even as his face remained outwardly impassive.
«Harry?» he called, stepping forward.
No response. The shorter one kept pacing, back and forth, back and forth, as if movement could hold back something threatening to explode inside him.
«Harry?» he repeated, this time more firmly.
Still nothing. The blond pressed his lips together, and without hesitating further, grabbed his wrist «Harry.»
Draco felt the tension in Harry’s wrist, his skin warm beneath his fingers, charged with that restrained energy that seemed on the verge of erupting. The raven-haired boy halted abruptly, turning toward him with a raised eyebrow, a flicker of irritation and confusion in his incandescent eyes.
«Calm down and look around.» the blond said calmly, a slight smile curling his lips.
Harry huffed, muttering under his breath «I’m perfectly calm.»
Draco arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but said nothing as the other finally took in his surroundings, pulling his focus away from the storm of thoughts in his mind. His gaze swept across the familiar sitting room, the details he knew by heart: the dark velvet sofas, the bookshelves overflowing with volumes, the soft glow of the enchanted lanterns.
But then, he tensed.
Draco saw him narrow his eyes, as if searching for something beyond what was visible.
Then his brow furrowed «Tom and James.» he murmured, his voice barely a breath, as if speaking to himself «I can’t sense them.»
He wasted no time. With a fluid motion of his hand, the doors of the sitting room burst open, slamming against the walls with a dull echo. The very air seemed to tremble around him as he strode out of the room, leaving behind an almost tangible trace of his restless energy.
Draco followed without a word, observing the way his shoulders tensed with every step, the way his fingers twitched, as if holding back the instinct to unleash his magic.
The corridors were vast, carved from dark stone with silver veins pulsing like luminous threads along the walls. Tall windows of enchanted glass let in a dim, ethereal light, casting an almost unreal atmosphere over the palace. The silence was thick, broken only by the muffled sound of their footsteps on the polished floor.
Harry stopped in front of an imposing door, crafted from ebony wood with golden inlays woven into ancient runes.
It was Tom’s study.
Draco had only seen it a few times, but he knew that the room perfectly reflected its owner.
The interior was spacious, wrapped in a soothing darkness, broken only by the glow of floating blue candles. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes, some so ancient they looked like they might crumble at a glance. A grand black onyx desk stood at the center of the room, scattered with neatly arranged parchments and a silver quill resting beside a dark glass inkwell.
Behind the desk, a wide glass window overlooked Valmoria, its towering spires bathed in the soft glow of the eternal twilight that enveloped the realm.
But the study was empty.
Harry stood motionless on the threshold, his flaming green gaze sweeping over every inch of the room.
Draco lingered at the doorway, arms crossed, watching Harry move with feverish intensity. The way his eyes darted from point to point, the way his breath was just slightly too fast, the tension in his fingers… It all told Draco that Harry wasn’t just searching blindly. There was a method to his apparent chaos.
The shorter one moved swiftly and precisely through the study, running his hands over books, brushing against the desk, the walls, even the floor, as if searching for something only he could sense. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he sent an entire stack of books tumbling from one of the shelves.
Draco arched an eyebrow «What are you doing?» he asked calmly, though a faint unease began to creep into him.
«Just a moment.» Harry responded absentmindedly, lifting his hand once more.
A wave of magic rippled through the room, making the air vibrate for a fleeting moment. Another cluster of books tumbled to the floor, and a chair scraped backward with a sharp screech.
Draco sighed, sweeping his gaze over the now nearly unrecognizable study. But the more he observed, the more he realized that nothing was left to chance. That chaos wasn’t random. Every displaced object, every fallen book, every small movement Harry made had a rhythm, a hidden purpose.
He remained still at the threshold as the air in the study thickened with a dense, thrumming energy. The raven-haired boy had stopped precisely at the center of the room, his pupils narrowed into slits, the green of his eyes alight with an unnatural glow.
He raised a hand, slender fingers tracing an invisible pattern in the air. The words of the incantation slipped from his lips like an ancient whisper, a sound that resonated within the room itself, making it tremble.
Immediately, the chaos around him came alive. The fallen books lifted from the floor and began to rotate, chairs slid away as if pushed by a phantom wind, loose papers spiraled into the air, swirling around him in an eerie dance. The entire study seemed caught in a harmonic motion, a perfect flow dictated by his magic.
And then, like the beating of wings, everything stilled.
In an instant, the books returned to their shelves, the chairs settled back into place, and the scattered papers arranged themselves neatly on the desk. The disorder vanished as if it had never existed.
And at the center of it all, in Harry’s hands, something gleamed.
Draco lowered his gaze.
A dagger.
The blade was dark, almost opalescent, with silver veins that shifted as if alive. The hilt was intricate, an ancient design carved into the metal, pulsing with magic.
The shorter one slowly lowered his gaze to the weapon. His fingers tightened around it with purpose. The power it radiated was tangible, almost suffocating.
Draco broke the silence with a low, measured tone «What is that?»
Harry lifted his eyes to him, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips.
«A message.»
The blond didn't look away as the other, with a smooth motion of his free hand, summoned an object before him. The air shimmered, magic resonated in the silence of the study, and from nothing, a large, ancient basin emerged—similar to a Pensieve.
Its material seemed a fusion of polished stone and liquid metal, its shifting surfaces reflecting fragments of unknown memories. Delicate carvings along the edges pulsed with light, archaic runes breathing in sync with the rhythm of magic itself.
The black-haired boy wasted no time. He lifted the dagger, twirling it between his fingers with practiced ease. Now that the blond could observe it more closely, the blade seemed like something beyond the mortal world. Dark as the night, yet laced with silver veins that moved as if alive, responding to Harry's presence. The hilt was cold and intricate, carved with indistinct figures that seemed in perpetual flux. The power it radiated was ancient, dense, almost tangible.
Harry didn’t hesitate. Without a flicker of pain, he sliced the palm of his left hand with a sharp, precise cut. The dark ichor, dense and iridescent, dripped slowly into the basin’s surface, which trembled at the contact with his blood. The energy in the room grew heavier, vibrating with something unfathomable.
Draco didn’t move. He could feel the magic around him shifting, distorting, as if reality itself were holding its breath.
The shorter boy, with the same unwavering calm, lifted his gaze to Draco for a brief moment before lowering it to the basin. Then, without a hint of hesitation, he submerged his face into the dense, pulsing liquid, letting it consume him completely.
The blond remained still, arms crossed over his chest, watching as his boyfriend emerged from the basin with a sharp motion, ichor dripping from his skin like liquid shadow. His incandescent eyes burned with restrained fury, his jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides. The air around him seemed to vibrate, heavy with tension.
For a long moment, he said nothing, his breath controlled but heavy. Then, with a quick movement, he ran a hand through his raven hair, still damp with magic, brushing it back with a frustrated gesture. His green eyes flashed with pure irritation as his jaw tightened further.
«Fuck those gods, seriously.» he muttered, his voice lower, more dangerous.
«I knew it. As if it would ever be that simple to just ask them.»
Draco raised an eyebrow, remaining still at the threshold as he watched him. It wasn’t just anger, it wasn’t just frustration. Harry looked like he was on the verge of exploding. The energy around him twisted and coiled, responding to his agitation.
«What did you see?» he asked, his tone neutral, but his silver eyes never wavered from him.
Harry let out a low sound, almost a growl, then turned abruptly, pacing the room as if searching for a way to contain the fury burning beneath his skin.
He halted suddenly at the center of the room, shoulders taut as if he were holding back something immense. He took a deep breath, long and measured, while his hands came together in a precise, almost ritualistic gesture. His green eyes dropped to his intertwined fingers, his brow furrowed in fierce concentration.
The blond watched him closely, recognizing that precise moment when Harry stopped letting his emotions control him and instead funneled every shred of his frustration into pure calculation. That was the point of no return.
Draco sighed, running a hand through his blond hair with a resigned expression.
Fantastic, he thought.
Here we go.
He already knew what would happen. Harry would spend hours—if not days—reconstructing every detail in his mind, digging into every possible clue, formulating theory after theory, without eating, without sleeping, without even bothering to answer unless it was with irritated monosyllables.
And he also knew that, no matter how much he might want to stop him, it would be useless.
He exhaled softly, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.
«I just hope it doesn’t turn into days...» he murmured to himself, shaking his head slightly.
Draco brought the cup to his lips, savoring the warmth of the drink as his gaze remained fixed on Harry’s figure, immersed in his obsessive work.
Harry’s study was a place that seemed to have a will of its own. Vast, with dark wooden walls veined with thin golden filaments that pulsed faintly, like veins of living energy. Towering bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with ancient tomes and rolled parchments, some suspended in midair, waiting to be consulted. Floating lamps bathed the space in a golden glow, casting flickering shadows across the walls.
But the true heart of the room was the magical board.
It wasn’t merely a panel for pinning notes and theories—it was an entire three-dimensional network of symbols, images, and patterns stretching from the center of the room to the walls, floating in the air like fragments of a cosmic puzzle. Luminous threads connected specific points, some as fine as silver hair, others thick and pulsing with energy. Certain sections shifted form as Harry worked, rearranging information and forging new connections in a constant interplay of logic and intuition.
Draco took another sip, the hot liquid sliding down his throat, as he watched Harry shift a central node of the network with a flick of his hand, making an entire section float into a new position. His movements were precise, calculated—as if he were redrawing the very map of fate itself.
«You are aware that you could actually sleep, right?» Draco remarked dryly, not really expecting an answer.
Harry didn’t even turn «I won’t die if I don’t sleep, you know that.» he muttered, grabbing another point of the network and shifting it with a sharp motion.
Draco sighed, placing his cup on a small table beside him.
He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he watched Harry move between the floating connections of the magical board.
«So, have you discovered anything?» he asked, his tone hovering between curiosity and disillusionment.
The dark-haired boy paused for a moment, his face partially illuminated by the golden glimmers of the shifting web of information around him. His fingers brushed against a glowing thread, tracing an invisible path in the air before clenching into a fist, making it vanish.
«Not much.» he finally admitted, frustration lacing his voice.
«There’s nothing to find… but rather something to know.»
The blond frowned «And what the hell is that supposed to mean?»
At last, the shorter boy turned toward him, his incandescent eyes reflecting shades of green and gold.
«It means the answer isn’t hidden in some text, some sealed memory, or a lost artifact.» he explained, making a vague gesture with his hand.
«It’s something that must be understood, remembered in the right way. Something that already exists… but hasn’t yet been seen for what it truly is.»
He ran a hand through his dark hair, his eyes burning with a silent flame as he watched the luminous network of connections float before him. His breathing was measured, but Draco could sense the tension in his body—the rigidity of his shoulders, the precision in his movements.
«I have to know… without knowing.» he finally said, his voice carrying a lethal calm.
«And what exactly does that mean?» Draco asked, though deep down, he already knew the answer.
The other lifted his gaze toward him, the incandescent green of his eyes reflecting the shifting lights of the floating connections in the room.
«It means that if I were to reach the truth directly, I would trigger the taboo and end up like Tom and James.» His tone was flat, devoid of hesitation.
Draco remained silent, his fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic of his cup.
Harry turned back to the magical board, his hands moving swiftly through the air, dissolving some connections and forming new ones.
«From this moment on, we move according to theories.»