Virtue Awakening

Harry sat cross-legged on his bed at the Flamel cottage. His thoughts kept returning to Antoine - the boy's terrified eyes as black crystals spread across his skin, the pure relief in his father's tears when the curse broke.

That was when Harry's eyes darkened just a shade. A new offer had come.

[Biblically Accurate - Generic Angels and Demons] – Costs 200CP, 250CP available to spend.

Be Not Afraid. As an angelic being, you are an existence with the potential to embody the purest virtue in divine form. This nature means your true visage, once fully realized, would be incomprehensible to mere mortals. While most angels are restricted from accessing their true forms and are limited to more mundane appearances, this perk removes such restrictions from your being. As your understanding and embodiment of virtue grows, you gain increasing access to your angelic nature, beginning with the ability to manifest partial forms like wings and halos of holy light. When your virtue reaches sufficient heights, you may manifest your true form - an angel-like eldritch existence covered in an aura of holy light. In this form, unprotected mundane beings who lack supernatural abilities or protection may suffer mental damage or physical effects from merely perceiving you, potentially leading to lasting consequences or death with prolonged exposure. Unholy beings will feel uncomfortable in your presence and may be damaged by your holy light. Your partial manifestations, rather than damaging mortal minds, tend to calm them.

Harry stared at the words floating in his mind. Angels... he knew what they were, technically. Beings of light and virtue from religious texts. But his knowledge felt academic, distant, known to him through his Language Comprehension. Like knowing what a lion looked like from books versus meeting Chrysa for the first time.

He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing as he considered the offer. The words 'purest virtue in divine form' resonated with something deep inside him. What did that even mean? His mind drifted back to Antoine, to the moment of healing. There had been no thought of reward or recognition then, just the desperate need to help a suffering child.

Was that virtue? Or just basic human decency?

Harry shifted on his bed, crossing his legs more comfortably. The morning sun warmed his face through the window as he contemplated further. The offer mentioned 'partial forms' - wings and halos. That seemed straightforward enough, if strange to imagine on himself. But the true form... 'incomprehensible to mere mortals.' Harry frowned. That sounded dangerous.

He opened his eyes, watching Chrysa chuff in her sleep. The part about causing mental damage to unprotected people worried him. He'd never want to hurt anyone just by being seen. Though the offer did specify this only happened in the true form, which apparently required 'sufficient heights' of virtue to achieve.

What exactly made someone virtuous? Harry thought of Dumbledore, who always took up responsibilities on his own person. He thought of Nicolas and Perenelle, who'd taken him in and taught him so much. But he knew that Perenelle had her own moments of excessive pride if he thought back to what happened in Africa…

Maybe that was part of it? Understanding that everyone, including himself, had both good and bad inside them? The divine healing energy he used didn't judge - it simply helped those in need…

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, still uncertain. Grandpa Dumbledore didn't seem to have any bad sides, but maybe that was just something he hadn't encountered yet?

Virtue... what did it truly mean? He thought back to the Exhibition, to all the praise and attention he'd received. Had he really participated just to advance his magical artistry? Or had there been pride involved, a desire to show off his abilities?

Harry shifted uncomfortably on his bed. Being honest with himself wasn't pleasant. Yes, he'd wanted to help advance magical art. But he'd also enjoyed the admiration, the way people looked at him with awe for something Harry had actually done. Not the Boy-Who-Lived. Was that wrong?

Chrysa stirred in her sleep, letting out a small grunt. Harry smiled at his lion cub, remembering how naturally she'd bonded with him. There had been no ulterior motives there - just pure connection. Like when he'd healed Antoine...

The memory of the boy's pain-filled eyes returned. In that moment, Harry hadn't thought about reputation or praise. The only thing that mattered was stopping a child's suffering. His heart had moved before his mind could even consider the consequences.

"Maybe that's what virtue means," Harry whispered to himself. "Acting because it's right, not because of what others might think."

He glanced at the offer again, considering the warnings about the true form. That part sounded dangerous - incomprehensible to mortals, causing mental damage... But the offer clearly stated this only happened in the final form, which required 'sufficient heights' of virtue to achieve. Harry doubted he'd reach that level anytime soon. And even if he did someday, he could simply choose not to use it around others.

The partial manifestations, on the other hand... A halo and wings that brought calm rather than harm? That didn't sound bad at all. If anything, it might help when he worked with scared patients at St. Mungo's.

"And becoming more virtuous..." Harry spoke softly to himself, "That's good, isn't it? Understanding my own motivations better, trying to be a better person..."

He took a deep breath, staring at the trees through the window for a long moment. The choice felt important, weighty. But the more he thought about it, the more right it felt.

"I accept," Harry whispered.

For a moment, nothing seemed to change. Then Harry noticed something different about his chi - an almost imperceptible presence flowing beside it. He closed his eyes, focusing inward with the sensitivity developed through years of firebending practice.

The new energy felt... pure. Clean in a way that made even his refined chi seem crude by comparison. But it was so faint he could barely sense it, like trying to spot a single star through heavy clouds.

Harry breathed deeply, attempting to direct this new energy as he would chi. Nothing happened. He tried gathering it in his dantian - still nothing. Frowning, Harry switched tactics, remembering how he'd felt while healing Antoine.

The memory came easily: the desperate need to help, the complete focus on easing the boy's suffering. When Harry dwelled on that moment of pure compassion, he felt the tiniest surge in the new energy. His eyes snapped open in excitement - and immediately the feeling vanished.

"Okay," Harry muttered to himself. "So it responds to... genuine virtue? But what counts as virtue?"

He closed his eyes again, this time thinking about healing Charlotte's scars. That had been partly out of friendship and care, yes. But hadn't he also felt guilty for not being there when she was cursed? And slightly proud when people praised his healing abilities?

The energy dimmed so slightly he almost missed it.

"Right..." Harry spoke softly. "Not just good actions. The intentions matter too."

He thought back to the Exhibition. Creating beauty was good, wasn't it? But he'd also wanted to prove himself, to show everyone what he could do. The energy flickered again, even fainter this time.

A warm weight pressed against his leg as Chrysa climbed onto the bed, still yawning. Harry smiled, rubbing her cheeks with both hands. "What do you think, girl? This is all rather confusing."

Chrysa bumped her head against his hand, rumbling. The simple affection made Harry pause. When he'd first met her in Greece, he hadn't thought about what she could do for him or how impressive having a Nemean Lion would look. He'd just wanted to help a scared, injured cub.

The new energy strengthened slightly.

"Oh," Harry breathed. "So that's what it means..."

He focused deeply on his meridians. The energy felt different from chi, which responded to passion. This new force seemed to react to... purity of heart? No, that wasn't quite right. More like... honesty with himself?

Harry thought about his upcoming work at St. Mungo's. He genuinely wanted to help people suffering from curses. But a small part of him was also worried about failing, about betraying people's expectations of him if he couldn't heal the worst cases. The energy dimmed.

"It's not just about doing good things," Harry realized. "It's about understanding why I'm doing them."

He opened his eyes, watching sunlight stream through his window. The trees outside swayed in a gentle breeze, and Harry remembered something Perenelle had told him about art: "The truth of a painting lies not in what others see, but in what moved the artist to create it."

"Maybe virtue is like that," Harry said to Chrysa, who had flopped onto her side expecting belly rubs. "It's not about looking virtuous to others. It's about actually being virtuous inside."

He obliged her silent demand, scratching the soft golden fur of her belly while continuing to examine this new awareness. The energy remained incredibly faint, but Harry could sense it flowing alongside his chi now that he knew what to look for.

A memory surfaced - the first time he'd created azure flames out of his own volition without requiring the influence of his Yin-refined meridians. That too had started with understanding, with realizing how they were just one way his chi could express itself. But this felt different. Much more... personal?

Harry summoned a small azure flame in his palm, watching it crackle and spin. The fire responded to his passion for creation, his love of art. But when he tried to direct the new energy into the flame, nothing changed. The virtue energy seemed to ignore his commands entirely.

"Right," Harry muttered. "You can't force virtue any more than you can force someone to be honest."

He extinguished the flame and closed his eyes again. If he couldn't control this energy directly, maybe he could at least understand it better. What made it grow stronger? Pure intentions, yes, but there had to be more...

Harry thought about the letters piling up from desperate families seeking healing. Some part of him dreaded reading them, afraid of failing people who needed help. But wasn't that fear itself a kind of pride? Thinking about himself instead of focusing on those who were suffering?

The energy flickered, and Harry felt something shift in his understanding. Fear of failure wasn't necessarily bad - it showed he cared about doing things right. But letting that fear stop him from trying to help others... that definitely weakened the virtue energy.

"So emotions themselves aren't good or bad," Harry thought aloud. Chrysa opened one eye at his voice, then went back to enjoying her belly rubs. "It's what we choose to do with them that matters."

He remembered staying with Chiara in the Shrieking Shack, how scared she'd been about anyone discovering her secret. He'd felt uncertain, even a little afraid, but had chosen to stay anyway. Not because he wanted anything from her, but because no one should have to face their fears alone. The virtue energy brightened slightly at the memory.

"Because I helped despite feeling uncomfortable?" Harry wondered. "Or because I didn't think about what I'd get out of it?"

Chrysa rolled over and stretched, bumping her head against his knee. The simple, honest affection made Harry think. Animals didn't pretend, didn't hide their true nature behind masks. Maybe virtue was like that - being genuine, true to yourself and others...

He thought about his divine healing. People called him special, talented, extraordinary. But wasn't that missing the point? The power to heal wasn't what mattered - it was choosing to use that power to help others. And even then...

"I'm not special for wanting to help people," Harry said softly. "That's just... human. Normal. The right thing to do."

The virtue energy surged stronger than before, though still barely noticeable.

"Harry?" Perenelle's voice called from downstairs. "Breakfast is ready! And there's a letter from Albus for you."

Harry blinked, realizing how long he'd been sitting in meditation. Chrysa was already heading for the door, eager for her own breakfast. The smell of fresh bread and eggs wafted up from the kitchen.

"Coming!" Harry called back. He stood up slowly, still aware of the subtle virtue energy flowing alongside his chi. Should he tell Nicolas and Perenelle about this? They'd notice eventually - the offer had mentioned visible manifestations like halos. But for now...

"Better understand it myself first," Harry decided. After all, he barely grasped how it worked. And explaining something about virtue to the Flamels felt presumptuous. They'd lived for centuries, surely they understood more about being good people than he did, right?

The virtue energy dimmed slightly at that thought. Harry paused halfway to the door. "Oh. Taking their wisdom for granted isn't virtuous either, is it? Everyone can learn from everyone else..."

He shook his head, smiling. This was going to take a lot of getting used to - having his own thoughts and assumptions challenged by this new awareness. But wasn't that partly the point of accepting the offer? Understanding himself better, seeing his own pride and prejudices clearly?

"Harry?" Perenelle called again. "Your eggs are getting cold!"

Harry hurried downstairs to the kitchen, and he smiled slightly at the scent of fresh bread, even if he wasn't all that hungry. Nicolas sat at the table reading Le Oracle while Chrysa had already claimed her spot near the stove, watching hopefully as Perenelle prepared what smelled like sausages.

"There you are," Perenelle smiled, placing a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. "Deep in thought this morning?"

Harry nodded, picking up his fork. "Just thinking about some things." He glanced at Nicolas, who had set down his newspaper. "About helping people, and why we choose to do it."

"Ah," Nicolas folded the paper carefully. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the letters from St. Mungo's?"

Harry paused, remembering how the virtue energy had dimmed when he'd dismissed the idea of sharing his thoughts with the Flamels. That hadn't been right. They deserved his honesty, and maybe... maybe they could help him understand this better.

"Actually," Harry set down his fork, "something happened this morning. I received an offer. But this one was different from the usual..." He took a deep breath. "It was about becoming... well, sort of like an angel. About cultivating virtue."

The kitchen went silent. Even Chrysa stopped begging for sausages, sensing the change in atmosphere. Perenelle turned from the stove, her eyes wide. Nicolas leaned forward, his breakfast forgotten.

"An angel?" Perenelle whispered. "You mean..."

"Not with wings and halos. Well, not yet anyway." Harry quickly explained about the virtue energy he could now sense, how it responded to pure intentions and dimmed with pride or selfishness. "Like just now, when I thought I shouldn't bother you with this because surely you knew more about virtue than me... the energy actually weakened."

Nicolas and Perenelle exchanged a long look. After six centuries together, they barely needed words to communicate.

"Harry," Nicolas spoke carefully, "in all our years studying alchemy and immortality, we've encountered many religious muggle texts about angels. They're described as beings of pure virtue, messengers of divine will. Are you saying...?"

Harry squirmed in his chair, suddenly feeling very small and uncertain. This had seemed simpler when he was just thinking about the new energy and how it worked. Now, seeing the awe in Nicolas and Perenelle's faces...

"I don't know," Harry admitted quietly. "The offer said something about eventually having wings and a halo, but right now I can barely sense this new energy. And..." He looked down at his plate, voice growing smaller. "I'm not pure or perfect. I get angry sometimes, and proud..."

Perenelle moved from the stove, coming to sit beside him. "Oh, mon petit..." She wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "No one expects you to be perfect. Even in those muggle books, angels spent a long time learning to embody virtue."

"But what if I do something wrong?" Harry leaned into her embrace, voicing his deepest fear. "What if I'm not good enough to be an angel?"

"Harry," Nicolas stood up and walked around the table, kneeling beside his chair. "Listen to me. The very fact that you worry about this shows wisdom beyond your years. And didn't you say the energy responds to honest self-reflection? To understanding your own flaws?"

Harry nodded slowly, still pressed against Perenelle's side. "Yes. When I try to pretend I'm better than I am, it gets weaker. But when I'm honest about my mistakes..." He paused, focusing on the subtle energy. "It actually feels stronger now, talking to you both about it."

"Because you're trusting us," Perenelle squeezed his shoulders gently. "Instead of trying to handle everything alone."

"Speaking of trust," Nicolas reached across the table for an envelope. "Albus sent this earlier. He's always had a knack for timing."

Harry took the letter, recognizing Grandpa Dumbledore's neat handwriting.

"Should I open it now?" Harry glanced at his cooling breakfast.

"Eat first," Perenelle nudged his plate closer. "Whatever Albus has written can wait until after you've had a proper meal. Even angels need breakfast."

Harry felt his cheeks grow warm, but he picked up his fork again.

The kitchen settled into comfortable quiet, broken only by the scrape of cutlery and Chrysa's hopeful snuffling near Perenelle's feet. Harry found himself paying attention to every bite, aware of how the virtue energy responded to simple gratitude for good food and family.

"You know," Nicolas spoke after a while, buttering another piece of toast, "I remember reading about an old Hebrew tradition. They believed angels spent each morning singing praises, then turned to flame and vanished, only to be recreated the next day." He smiled at Harry. "I suppose blue fire isn't quite the same thing."

"Nicolas," Perenelle scolded, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Don't tease him."

Harry swallowed his eggs, considering this. "I don't think I'll vanish into flame. The offer was pretty clear about the wings and halo part coming gradually. Though..." He paused, remembering something. "It did mention a 'true form' that could hurt people just by looking at it. But that's supposed to be really far away, and I'd never use it around others anyway."

Nicolas and Perenelle exchanged another meaningful look. Harry recognized that expression - they were worried about him, but trying not to show it.

"I'll be careful," Harry promised, setting down his fork. "And I'll tell you both if anything changes. I don't want to keep secrets from you."

The virtue energy warmed slightly at his words. Harry blinked in surprise - he hadn't expected it to respond to such a simple promise. But then again… small choices mattered just as much as big ones, didn't they?

"We know you will," Perenelle smiled, though concern still lingered in her eyes. "Now, shall we see what Albus has written?"

Harry picked up the envelope, breaking the purple wax seal. The parchment inside carried the scent of lemon drops that always reminded him of Grandpa Dumbledore's office.

"Dear Harry," he read aloud. "I trust this letter finds you well after your achievements at the Exhibition. While I had planned to continue our Occlumency lessons next week, recent developments suggest we might benefit from beginning sooner. Would tomorrow morning be convenient?"

"Albus is right," Nicolas leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply. "After what happened with Antoine... Harry, you removed a dark curse that skilled healers couldn't counter. People will want to know how you did it."

"Some might try to take that knowledge directly from your mind," Perenelle added softly. "Not everyone respects boundaries when faced with such powerful magic."

Harry frowned, remembering the crowds that had gathered after he healed Antoine. The healers eager to study his methods... The desperate letters from families… And now this new angelic nature on top of everything else.

"I understand," Harry nodded, feeling the virtue energy respond to his acceptance of their concern. Not dismissing it, not pretending he could handle everything alone. "I'll write back to Grandpa right after breakfast."