Chapter 21
The Black Lion
Chapter 21
The tension in the room was thick. Harry lay motionless on the couch, his breaths shallow, his face pale. Sirius and Regulus stood on either side of him, both wearing matching looks of deep concentration.
Neville and Luna hovered nearby, quiet but watchful. Hermione, however, sat frozen in place, staring at Harry’s unconscious form with guilt twisting in her stomach.
She knew something was wrong.
She had seen it at the party, the way his spells had faltered, the way his movements had seemed sluggish like something was dragging him down. She had pushed it aside and then, told herself he would figure it out. But he hadn’t. And now he was here, barely breathing, because she had convinced herself that he didn’t want her help.
Her hands clenched into fists.
Sirius broke the silence first. “His magic is suppressing itself.” His voice was sharp with frustration. “It’s like his core is being… strangled.”
Regulus nodded, his expression unreadable. “Not just suppressed redirected.” He flicked his wand over Harry’s chest, murmuring an incantation. A faint web of golden lines shimmered above him, crisscrossing his body like tangled threads. “This isn’t natural. Something is forcing his magic into submission.”
Sirius’s jaw tightened. “A curse?”
Regulus studied the lines carefully before shaking his head. “No, this isn’t external. His magic is turning against him because something in him is making it.” He glanced at Neville. “You said he was struggling with simple spells?”
Neville nodded. “Couldn’t even cast Wingardium Leviosa.”
Regulus frowned. “That doesn’t happen overnight. This has been building for months.”
Hermione flinched.
Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Then the question is why?”
Luna spoke up then, her dreamy voice softer than usual. “Maybe it’s because he isn’t being true to himself.”
All eyes turned to her.
She tilted her head, staring at Harry like she could see something the rest of them couldn’t. “Magic is a reflection of the soul,” she murmured. “If a wizard strays too far from who they are… their magic might stop listening.”
Silence settled over the room.
Regulus turned back to the web of golden lines and traced his wand through them. “That’s not entirely wrong.” His voice was low, thoughtful. “Potter family magic is rooted in Honor and Loyalty.” He flicked his gaze toward Hermione and then towards Sirius. “And this boy has spent months turning his back on both.”
Hermione sucked in a breath, the words hitting her like a punch.
Sirius muttered a curse under his breath. “You’re saying he’s sick because he’s been ignoring who he is?”
Regulus gave a sharp nod. “It’s not just emotional, his magic is reacting to his choices. He’s been severing connections, lying to himself, betraying what his bloodline stands for.” He gestured at the golden threads above Harry. “And now? His magic is punishing him for it.”
Hermione bit her lip hard, tasting copper.
This was her fault. Not just because she had noticed he was sick and ignored it but because she was one of the things he had turned his back on.
She should have tried harder. She should have confronted him and forced him to listen. Instead, she had let her own hurt feelings push her away from him, just as he had pushed away from her.
And now, this.
Her voice came out hoarse. “Can we fix it?”
Regulus hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. But not with a potion or a spell.”
Sirius sighed, running a hand down his face. “Of course not.”
Hermione swallowed hard. “Then how?”
Regulus’s gaze was piercing. “He has to choose to fix it.”
The weight of those words settled like a stone in her chest.
Harry had to wake up and decide for himself.
And Hermione wasn’t sure if he would.