Grace and Gold

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The next four days passed in a blur of golden light and intense magical practice. Each morning, Harry would awaken to the soft glow of dawn filtering through his small bedroom window at Number Four, Privet Drive. He found himself looking forward to each session, whether he was practicing alone or under Melina's watchful guidance.

"It's grace magic," Harry declared proudly after successfully creating a larger healing tree that shimmered with ethereal light. The golden branches stretched toward the ceiling, leaves rustling with a sound like distant chimes.

"Simply grace," Melina corrected for what must have been the hundredth time, a gentle smile playing on her lips. She stood beside him, her dark cloak contrasting sharply with the warm glow emanating from the tree. "It's not exactly magic as your world knows it. Grace is... more fundamental."

"Still makes things glow and does wonderful stuff," Harry shrugged, grinning as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Sounds like magic to me."

Melina's laugh filled the room, a melodic sound that made Harry's heart do a peculiar flip. When she laughed, her usual mysterious demeanor melted away, revealing someone who seemed both ancient and young at the same time. Her visible eye crinkled at the corners, and her whole face lit up brighter than any grace he could conjure. The sound was infectious, and Harry found himself laughing along with her.

"Your persistence is admirable," she said, watching as he practiced forming larger spheres of light. The orbs floated between his hands, pulsing gently like miniature suns. "Even if your terminology is questionable."

"Speaking of persistence," Harry concentrated, his brows knitting together as he brought two separate spheres together. They merged into a single orb the size of a football, casting a strong golden light throughout his bedroom. "What do you think of this?"

"Impressive," Melina nodded, her gaze steady. "Though size isn't everything. How's your precision?"

In response, Harry split the large sphere into twenty smaller ones with a swift flick of his fingers. The tiny orbs scattered, dancing through complex patterns before homing in on various targets he'd set up around his room—an old sock draped over a chair, a crumpled piece of parchment, and a dusty figurine of a knight. Each orb struck its mark with pinpoint accuracy, leaving a faint shimmer in their wake.

"Show off," Melina teased, but her tone was approving. She crossed her arms, the fabric of her cloak rustling softly. "You've been practicing."

"Maybe a little," Harry admitted, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. He felt a surge of pride at her acknowledgment, his cheeks flushing slightly.

During their breaks, they would talk. Sitting cross-legged on the worn rug, Harry found himself opening up about his past, starting with his first year at Hogwarts. He told her about discovering he was a wizard, meeting Ron and Hermione, and the thrill of playing Quidditch for the first time. Melina proved to be an excellent listener, her expressions shifting subtly with each new story, though her reactions weren't always what he expected.

"So let me understand this correctly," she said during one such conversation, tilting her head thoughtfully. "This stone of great power—the Philosopher's Stone—was hidden in a school full of children?"

"Well, when you put it like that..." Harry scratched his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "But there were protections! Magical barriers, enchantments, creatures guarding it."

"Yes, protections that three first-year students managed to bypass," Melina pointed out, arching an eyebrow. "Including a challenge involving a giant chess set."

"Ron's brilliant at chess," Harry defended automatically, picturing his friend commanding the pieces. "We couldn't have gotten through without him."

"That's not the point," Melina shook her head, her eye narrowing slightly. "Why wasn't this Dumbledore handling the situation? From what you've told me, he's supposedly one of the most powerful wizards alive."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, the question hanging heavily in the air. "You know, I've wondered that myself sometimes. Hermione said there had to be a reason, but..."

"But placing such a burden on an eleven-year-old child seems rather questionable," Melina finished, her voice gentle but firm.

"To be fair, I don't think anyone expected me to actually go after the Stone," Harry said, his gaze dropping to the floor. He traced patterns on the rug with his finger, small sparks of grace flickering with each movement. "We just sort of... did it."

"Because no one else was," Melina observed quietly, her tone carrying a hint of sadness.

Their conversations would often take such turns, with Melina asking questions that made Harry think about his experiences in new ways. She challenged him, pushed him to reflect, but she never judged. And when the memories became too heavy, she seemed to understand, seamlessly guiding the discussion back to lighter topics or returning to their practice.

During one particularly successful session, Harry managed to maintain his healing tree for nearly a minute. The tree stood tall and radiant. He watched it with a mixture of awe and exhaustion, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. "Still not as tall as yours," he noted, wiping his damp forehead with the back of his hand.

"But significantly more stable," Melina pointed out, a note of pride in her voice. "You're learning to channel grace more efficiently. The size will come with time. Remember, it's about harmony, not force."

"At least I haven't set anything on fire yet," Harry grinned, glancing up at the faint scorch mark on his ceiling. He remembered when he killed the spider on the ceiling. "Aunt Petunia still hasn't figured out why there's a scorch mark up there."

"Your aunt seems remarkably unobservant," Melina commented, a hint of curiosity in her gaze. "Or perhaps deliberately so."

"Trust me, that's for the best," Harry assured her, his expression turning wry. "You don't want to see her when she's being observant. Though I'd love to see her face if she saw me practicing grace magic... er, just grace," he corrected himself quickly, shooting her a sly look.

Melina's laugh returned, making the room feel warmer somehow. "You're doing that on purpose now."

"Maybe," Harry admitted with a grin, his eyes meeting hers. There was a playful glint in his gaze. "It's worth it to hear you laugh."

A slight pink tinge appeared on Melina's visible cheek, and Harry felt his own face warm as he realized what he'd said. He quickly looked away, suddenly fascinated by the pattern of the wood grain on his desk.

"Your grace control is improving," she said after a moment, smoothly changing the subject. There was a softness to it that hadn't been there before. "Soon we'll need to work on more advanced techniques."

"Like what the Tree Sentinel uses?" Harry asked hopefully, his excitement rekindling.

"Patience," Melina cautioned, though her lips curved into a small smile. "Though..." she studied him thoughtfully. "Perhaps we could begin preparing. There are other incantations you should learn first."

"Brilliant!" Harry straightened eagerly, his heart pounding with anticipation. "What's first? Lightning bolts? Giant golden swords?"

"Healing," Melina said firmly, raising a finger to emphasize her point. "More advanced healing. Because believe me, when you do face a Tree Sentinel, you'll need it."

Harry's enthusiasm dimmed slightly, his shoulders sagging. "More healing trees?"

"Different kinds of healing grace," Melina explained. She moved closer, her cloak swaying gracefully. "Some that cure specific ailments, others that provide protection. Not all battles are won through attack alone. Sometimes, the ability to endure is more valuable than the strength to strike."

"Tell that to the spider," Harry muttered under his breath, but he nodded in understanding. "Alright, show me."

As they worked through the new incantations, Harry found himself watching Melina more than the grace she was demonstrating. There was something captivating about the way she moved—the elegant precision of her gestures. Grace seemed to flow around her naturally, responding to her slightest command. The golden light danced along her fingertips, weaving intricate patterns in the air.

"You're not paying attention," she chided gently, not unkindly. She glanced over at him, her eye reflecting the glow of the grace between them.

"Sorry," Harry blushed, tearing his gaze away. "It's just... you make it look so easy."

"I've had considerably more practice," she reminded him, her tone softening. "Though I must admit, you're progressing faster than I expected. Your affinity for grace is... remarkable."

"Well, I've got a good teacher," Harry said earnestly, sincerity evident in his voice. "Even if she does keep correcting my perfectly good terminology."

This time when Melina laughed, Harry didn't try to hide his smile. Four days of training had changed their dynamic from mysterious guide and confused student to something closer to friendship, though there was still so much he didn't know about her.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asked as their session wound down, reluctance tingeing his voice. He wasn't ready for the day to end.

"Of course," Melina nodded, her gaze meeting his. "Though perhaps tomorrow you could tell me about your second year at Hogwarts?"

"Er," Harry hesitated, his mind flashing back to the events of that tumultuous year. "It involves more giant spiders. And a basilisk."

"A basilisk?" Melina's eye widened slightly, genuine curiosity coloring her tone. "What is that?"

"Well, it's a giant poisonous snake," Harry explained, shuddering involuntarily at the memory. "With eyes that can kill you if you look directly into them."

"And you are telling me that such a creature was at a school?" Melina's voice held a mix of disbelief and concern.

"Yeah..." Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair, his expression rueful. "It's a bit of a long story. Hogwarts isn't exactly the safest place, now that I think about it."

"I look forward to hearing it," Melina said, though her tone suggested she was already forming opinions about the safety standards of Hogwarts. "Until tomorrow, Harry."

As she prepared to vanish, the ambient light in the room seemed to dim slightly. Harry felt a sudden urge to say something more, to keep her there just a little longer.

"Wait," he blurted out. She paused, turning back to face him. "Melina... thanks. For everything."

A soft smile touched her lips, and she inclined her head. "You're welcome, Harry. Rest well."

And then she was gone, leaving behind a faint shimmer of grace that slowly faded into the air. The room felt emptier without her presence. Harry sighed, a mixture of contentment and longing settling in his chest.

He created one last healing tree, focusing intently as he channeled the grace. The tree sprouted before him, its branches reaching higher than ever before. Tiny golden leaves unfurled, casting a warm glow that bathed the room in light. He held it steady for as long as he could, feeling the flow of grace coursing through him like a steady river.

It still wasn't as tall as Melina's, but he was getting closer. And somehow, that felt like a metaphor for everything else—he was getting closer to understanding this new power, closer to being ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, and closer to unraveling the mysteries surrounding the woman who had brought grace into his life.

"Definitely worth a few scorch marks on the ceiling," he decided with a chuckle, letting the golden tree fade away. As he settled into bed, the lingering warmth of the grace comforted him. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to drift into sleep, dreams filled with swirling golden light and echoes of Melina's laughter.

Later

Harry stood in the backyard late one night, the grass cool beneath his feet, carefully measuring distances with steps as he experimented with his light projectiles. The moon hung high, casting a silvery glow over the quiet neighborhood, with only the occasional hum of a car passing in the distance. The Dursleys were deep asleep, unaware of the strange light show happening just beyond their windows.

"One, two, three..." he counted under his breath, his green eyes focused as the golden sphere sailed smoothly through the dark. It glowed brilliantly, lighting up the yard in a warm hue, but just as it reached ten meters, it flickered and dissolved into a shower of sparkles.

"Every single time," he muttered, frustration edging his voice. "Ten meters and poof." He gritted his teeth and quickly formed another sphere in his hands.

He'd been at this for an hour now, trying every variation he could think of—different sizes, different speeds—but the result was always the same. Ten meters seemed to be his limit. No matter what he did, the energy just wouldn't hold past that point.

"Maybe if I put more power into it?" he wondered aloud, his brow furrowing in concentration as he created a larger sphere. This one shimmered with a brighter intensity. It flew forward, cutting through the night air. Just as it reached the ten-meter mark, it exploded in a burst of light, sending golden fragments raining down like fireworks.

"Right, definitely need to work on that," Harry sighed, rubbing his temple. He was making progress, sure, but it wasn't enough. He needed to push further, past whatever invisible barrier was holding him back.

Harry created another small light in the palm of his hand. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the sphere sailing into the night.

He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the light. For a moment, it pulsed—once, twice—like a heartbeat. The pulse quickened, and then, with a sudden crackle, the sphere exploded in a brilliant burst of golden light. A small shockwave rippled through the ground, and when the light faded, a shallow hole remained in the dirt where the orb had been.

Harry stared at the small crater in the ground, eyebrows raised in mild shock.

"So I can make them explode... huh," he muttered.

It wasn't a particularly deep hole—more like a scorch mark, really—but it was enough.

Back in his room, Harry sat on the edge of his bed. His eyes fell on Hermione's latest letter, sitting on his desk. But what really caught his attention was the photograph that had come with it, lying half-hidden beneath the letter. He tried not to look at it, but his gaze was inevitably drawn back to the image.

Hermione, standing on a sandy beach somewhere in France, the sunlight catching in her hair, her smile bright. She wore a blue bikini, something Harry had never seen her in before, and the sight was... distracting, to say the least.

"Why would she send that?" he mumbled to himself, his face heating up. He quickly turned his attention to creating another light ball, forcing himself to focus. "That's not... I mean, Hermione doesn't... does she?"

He tried to shake the thought, but it lingered, nagging at him. His mind drifted back to the hug she'd given him at the end of last term, how she'd held on just a bit longer than usual, how she'd been writing to him more frequently this summer. The thought that Hermione might have feelings for him sent his stomach into knots, the idea both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.

"Focus, Potter," he muttered through gritted teeth, willing the thoughts away. "Grace now, confusing feelings later."

But even as he tried to push the thoughts aside, they lingered. What if Hermione did have feelings for him? And what if that photograph was a way of showing it? The idea seemed both ridiculous and yet... possible. After all, why else would she send him something like that? He highly doubted she'd sent a similar one to Ron, though the idea made him snort with an odd mix of jealousy and amusement.

He considered telling Hermione about his new abilities. She'd be fascinated, of course. He could already imagine her reaction.

"But Harry, this is incredible! We need to research this thoroughly. Are you sure this Melina person is trustworthy? Have you checked any books about interdimensional travelers?"

Harry smiled at the thought, hearing her voice so clearly in his head. But then the smile faded as reality set in.

"And that's exactly why I should wait," he decided. "She'd have a thousand questions I can't answer yet."

With a sigh, he created another sphere of light, a welcome distraction from his tangled thoughts. He split the sphere into smaller orbs, sending them spinning in a circle. It was a move he'd practiced many times before, but tonight something was different.

"Hang on..." he muttered, watching in awe as the balls of light began to blur together, forming a ring of solid, swirling light. The orbs merged into a perfect disk, glowing brightly, with a circular hole in its center.

"That's new."

The disk hovered steadily, more stable than any of the individual spheres had been. 

"Wonder what Melina will think of this," he grinned. He maintained the disk for several more seconds, watching it closely.

A car passed by outside, its headlights briefly illuminating his room. The light caught the edge of Hermione's photograph, drawing his attention back to it. His grin faded slightly.

"Right," he muttered, tearing his gaze away from the photograph. He picked up a quill and parchment, deciding it was best to write back before Hermione started worrying about his lack of response.

*Dear Hermione,

Thanks for the letter and the, er, photograph. France sounds brilliant. The weather must be nice there...*

He paused, cringing at his own awkwardness. The words looked ridiculous on the page, and he rubbed his face with his free hand, groaning softly.

"Come on, Potter, you can face a professor with two faces and giant snakes, but you can't write a letter to your best friend?"

*I'm glad you're having a good holiday. Things here are... interesting. I've been learning some new things (nothing dangerous, don't worry). Can't really explain in a letter, but I'll tell you everything when we're back at school.*

"Well, maybe not everything," he muttered, glancing at the still-hovering disk of light. Some things would definitely be harder to explain than others.

*Stay safe, and say hello to your parents for me.

-Harry*

He sealed the letter, deciding it was better than nothing. He tied it to Hedwig's leg. But just as he was about to send her off, Harry hesitated. 

With a sigh, Harry untied the letter from Hedwig's leg, placing it back on his desk. He would figure it out later. For now, he had something else to focus on.

Turning back to the glowing disk, he studied it intently. "Definitely need to show that to Melina," he decided. "After I figure out how I did it."

He spent the next hour obsessively trying to recreate the disk, finding it easier each time. The more he practiced, the more natural the motions became, his fingers instinctively moving in patterns that directed the flow of grace. The hole in the center of the disk acted like a stabilizing anchor.

"Maybe if I make it spin..." he mused aloud. With a subtle twist of his wrist, the disk began rotating slowly, its golden edges leaving shimmering trails in the air. As it spun faster, the trails intertwined, creating intricate patterns that reminded him of the loops of Hermione's Time-Turner from last year. The memory of her expression brought a faint smile to his face.

But then his mind drifted back to the photograph—the way Hermione had looked standing on that sunlit beach, her smile, the blue bikini hugging her form in ways that made Harry's cheeks warm all over again. The disk wobbled, as if knowing that Harry wasn't focusing on it.

"Focus!" he hissed at himself, shaking his head. "Grace now, complicated feelings later!"

But it wasn't so easy. His thoughts bounced between newfound techniques and the knot of emotions that came with trying to figure out why his best friend would send him a photo like that. Was there something more? Or was he reading into it?

"Harry?" Melina's voice cut through the haze of his thoughts.

Startled, Harry's control slipped. The disk exploded in a dazzling shower of sparks, and he spun around, his face flushing crimson. "Melina! I was just... er... experimenting?"

Her visible eye scanned the room, taking in the scattering particles of grace energy still fading into the air, and then settled on his obviously flustered expression. "I can see that," she said with a touch of amusement in her voice. "Though perhaps with more enthusiasm than control?"

"I made a disk," he blurted out, desperately trying to redirect the conversation before his embarrassment grew any worse. "Want to see?"

Her smile was soft, reassuring, and it instantly made him feel a little less on edge. "Of course. Show me what you've discovered."

Taking a deep breath, Harry summoned the grace again, forming the familiar glowing disk. This time, with Melina watching, he focused harder, pushing all other thoughts—especially those about Hermione—firmly out of his mind. The disk spun smoothly in his hands, stable and bright.

"Well done," Melina observed. "It's more controlled than the previous forms. You're learning to refine the energy."

Harry nodded, pride swelling in his chest. He pushed the disk to spin faster, showcasing his progress. 

Grace now, everything else later.

Still, he couldn't entirely ignore the way Melina's smile seemed to tug at something inside him, something that made him feel almost as confused and flustered as the photograph had. 

"Brilliant," he muttered under his breath. "Because one confusing situation wasn't enough."

"Did you say something?" Melina asked.

"Just... concentrating," Harry quickly replied, swallowing hard and forcing his attention back on the disk, even though his heart was thudding a little too loudly in his chest. "Still working on the control part."

"Control comes with practice," Melina said softly, her gaze never leaving the disk. "Though perhaps we should work on your focus first?"

"Yeah, probably a good idea," Harry agreed, though his mind wasn't entirely on the disk anymore. He couldn't stop noticing the way the golden light caught in her hair, the way it highlighted the soft curve of her lips. "Definitely a good idea."

The disk wobbled again, and Harry cursed silently.

Limgrave

The sun hung low over Limgrave as Harry and Melina materialized near the edge of a dense forest. Ahead, a massive structure dominated the horizon - Stormveil Castle, its weathered stone walls stretching impossibly high into the clouds.

"Blimey," Harry breathed, taking in the sight. "Makes Hogwarts look like a cottage."

Movement caught his eye, and he noticed soldiers patrolling the area. They wore distinctive armor that had seen better days, some carrying torches despite the daylight. Near the castle gates, a particularly imposing figure stood watch, his massive shield gleaming dully in the sun.

"That's their captain," Melina explained quietly. "He oversees this checkpoint."

Harry watched as soldiers moved about their camp near the gates. Some huddled around a crackling fire, sharing what looked like dried meat and hard bread. Others maintained their weapons or stood at attention, eyes constantly scanning the surroundings.

"They seem... organized," Harry observed. "What are they all doing out here? Surely they don't need this many guards just for one gate?"

Melina's expression darkened. "They serve Godrick, but not as traditional guards. Their purpose is more sinister."

"How so?"

"They hunt Tarnished warriors," she explained. "Those who answer the call of grace, like yourself. But they don't kill them. Death would be kinder."

Harry felt a chill that had nothing to do with the evening air. "What do you mean?"

"You remember what I told you about Godrick..." Melina seemed to choose her words carefully. "I told you he rarely leaves the castle, and since his encounter with Malenia. I don't think he has left the castle since then. These soldiers deliver him fresh... materials." 

Harry's stomach lurched. He still found it disgusting that someone would use body parts like that, but this was the second time the name Malenia was brought up, he wondered who she was, but decided to worry about that later. "And these soldiers help him do it?"

"Many fear him," Melina said. "Others believe that by helping him grow stronger, he might restore order to this broken world."

They watched as the captain barked orders at his men, his voice carrying faintly across the distance. The soldiers scrambled to obey, their movements speaking of both discipline and fear.

"But that's mental," Harry protested. "How could anyone think helping someone like that would make things better?"

"When people suffer long enough," Melina replied softly, "when they watch their world crumble and everything they love turn to ash... some will grasp at any hope of restoration, no matter how twisted."

Harry thought about the soldiers around the campfire, sharing their meager meal. They looked tired, worn down by more than just physical exhaustion.

"How long?" he asked. "How long has it been like this?"

"Longer than any can remember clearly," Melina said. "The Shattering changed everything. The world fractured, grace abandoned most, and those who remained..." she gestured to the soldiers. "They do what they think they must to survive."

"But surely they must see that helping someone like Godrick is wrong?" Harry watched as two soldiers dragged what looked like a fresh catch toward the castle gates - a bound figure struggling weakly.

"Many do," Melina nodded. "But fear is a powerful motivator. Godrick may be mad, but he's also powerful. Those who oppose him openly tend to become his next... additions."

Harry's hand clenched involuntarily. "There has to be a way to stop him."

"There is," Melina said carefully. "But you're not ready for that confrontation. Not yet."

They watched as the sun sank lower, casting long shadows through the trees. The torches around the camp grew brighter, and the soldiers' movements became more alert, more wary.

"Night brings worse things than Tarnished warriors," Melina explained, noting Harry's questioning look. "The soldiers must remain vigilant."

"What could be worse than serving someone who collects body parts?" Harry asked.

A distant roar answered his question, making several soldiers jump to attention. The captain bellowed orders, and formations tightened.

"This world has many horrors, Harry," Melina said quietly. "Godrick is but one of them. The soldiers face death every night, and still they persist. Perhaps that's why they follow him - better a monster you know than the ones that lurk in darkness."

Harry watched as the soldiers prepared for night duty, their movements speaking of long practice and barely contained fear. He thought about what it must be like, standing guard night after night, knowing what your service enabled but too afraid to stop.

"When I'm ready," he said finally, "when I'm strong enough... things will change here."

Melina's visible eye studied him thoughtfully. "You wish to save them? Even knowing what they've done?"

"I wish to stop Godrick," Harry corrected. "After that... maybe they'll make better choices when fear isn't driving them."

A small smile touched Melina's lips. "You continue to surprise me, Harry Potter."

"Good surprised or bad surprised?"

"Just surprised," she replied enigmatically. "Come, we should return. You've seen enough for today."

As they prepared to leave, Harry took one last look at the soldiers' camp. The bound figure had disappeared into the castle, and the guards had returned to their routine as if nothing had happened.

"Do you think they sleep well at night?" he asked suddenly. "Knowing what happens to the people they catch?"

"I doubt anyone in these lands sleeps well anymore," Melina answered. "But perhaps someday, that too will change."

They vanished just as night fully descended, leaving the soldiers to their grim duty. But Harry's mind was already working, thinking about grace, about power, and about what it might take to bring real change to this fractured world.

"Next time," he promised himself as they reappeared in his room, "I'll be ready to do more than just watch."

Later

The sun filtered through the dense canopy of the forest near Little Whinging as Harry concentrated on his grace disk. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he manipulated the golden light, making it expand and contract.

"Remember," Melina instructed, "grace responds to intent as much as control. Feel the energy flow through you."

Harry nodded, focusing on the spinning disk. It had become almost second nature to create it now, but what he was attempting was different. Instead of keeping it at a distance, he began moving it toward himself.

"That's it," Melina encouraged. "Let it encompass you."

The disk's central hole aligned with his body, and Harry felt the warm energy wash over him as he stepped through it. The golden light hummed with power, responding to his presence.

"Now," he muttered, "let's see what this can really do."

Harry thrust his hands outward, channeling his intent through the disk. The golden light exploded outward in every direction, expanding into a massive ring of pure energy. Trees in its path didn't stand a chance - the grace-infused light sliced through them as if they were paper.

CRACK! CRASH! The sound of falling timber filled the air as dozens of trees began toppling. One massive trunk headed straight for Harry, who stood frozen in amazement at what he'd just done.

"Careful!" Melina's voice cut through his stupor. She raised her hand, and invisible force pushed the falling tree aside, sending it crashing harmlessly to the ground.

Harry stood in the center of a perfect circle of destruction, seven meters of cleared forest radiating out from where he stood. The cut edges of the remaining trees were smooth, almost polished, glowing faintly with residual grace energy.

"I... I did it!" Harry whooped, pumping his fist in the air. "Did you see that? It actually worked!"

"Remarkable," Melina said, genuine pride in her voice. "You've managed to perform a Ring of Light - an advanced attack spell of the Golden Order. And without any formal instruction or scrolls."

"It was brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, his green eyes bright with excitement. Without thinking, he rushed forward and wrapped Melina in a tight hug. "Thank you! I couldn't have done it without your help!"

He felt Melina stiffen in surprise, and suddenly realized what he was doing. He quickly stepped back, face flushing. "Sorry! I didn't mean to... I was just excited and..."

"No, it's..." Melina's visible eye wouldn't quite meet his, and there was a distinct pink tinge to her cheeks. "There's nothing wrong with... I quite liked it, actually," she added in a near-whisper.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, surrounded by felled trees and the lingering glow of grace energy.

Harry cleared his throat. "I think... I think I'm ready now. To face those soldiers by the gate."

Melina's expression grew serious, though her cheeks remained slightly pink. "Are you certain? This isn't training anymore. Those men are experienced fighters."

"I'm sure," Harry said firmly. "What they're doing is wrong, and now I can actually do something about it."

Melina studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Very well." She extended her hand to him. "Shall we?"

Harry took her hand, noting how warm it felt. "Let's go show Godrick's men that not all Tarnished are easy prey."

The forest around them blurred and shifted, and suddenly they were standing among the trees near the soldiers' camp in Limgrave. The familiar sight of Stormveil Castle loomed ahead, but this time, Harry viewed it with determination rather than awe.

"Remember," Melina whispered, still holding his hand, "these men are victims too, in their way. But they've made their choice to serve Godrick."

Harry nodded, watching the soldiers move about their camp. The captain with his massive shield was inspecting his men, unaware that everything was about to change.

"I won't kill them," Harry promised. "But they need to understand that hunting people for Godrick stops now."

Melina squeezed his hand once before letting go. "Show them the power of one who truly bears grace. Show them what they've forgotten."

Harry formed a disk of light, letting it spin slowly before him. The golden glow reflected in his eyes as he stepped forward, ready to make his stand.

"Time to remind them what they're supposed to be protecting," he said quietly, then strode out of the forest toward the camp, grace energy swirling around him like a golden storm.

The first soldier to spot him raised the alarm, and Harry couldn't help but smile slightly. This time, he wasn't here to watch. This time, he was ready to act.

Behind him, Melina watched with her enigmatic smile, her hand still tingling from where she'd held his. "Show them, Harry Potter," she whispered. "Show them what true grace looks like."

The horn's deep blast echoed across the camp, its warning call sending soldiers scrambling for weapons. Harry continued his steady approach, the disk of light spinning lazily beside him.

The captain stepped forward, his massive shield catching the setting sun's rays. Around him, soldiers formed a circle, their weapons trained on Harry.

"Foolish Tarnished," the captain's voice resonated from behind his helmet. "Walking straight into our camp alone? Either very brave or very stupid."

Harry met the captain's hidden gaze. "I could ask you the same about serving Godrick."

The name sent visible ripples through the gathered soldiers. Some flinched as if struck, while others gripped their weapons tighter, faces contorting in anger.

"Watch your tongue, boy!" one soldier spat. "Lord Godrick will lead us to greatness!"

"Greatness?" Harry's voice carried across the suddenly quiet camp. "Is that what you call stealing people's body parts? Creating monsters?"

"You understand nothing!" another soldier shouted. "The world is broken! Lord Godrick holds a Great Rune, a shard of the Elden Ring itself!"

But Harry's attention was fixed on the captain. Behind the steel helmet, there was no anger, no fanatical devotion. Just... exhaustion. The weariness of someone carrying a heavy burden for far too long.

"And you?" Harry addressed the captain directly. "Do you believe Godrick will save anyone?"

The captain's shield lowered slightly. "What I believe matters little, Tarnished. Godrick bears a shard of the ring. In this shattered world, that makes him our best hope for restoration." His voice carried the hollow tone of a man reciting words he no longer believed.

"Take him," the captain commanded, though his voice lacked conviction.

Soldiers moved forward, reaching for Harry with gauntleted hands. The moment they came within range, Harry smiled.

Two massive spheres of grace energy materialized above him, instantly splitting into twenty-five smaller balls of golden light. Before anyone could react, they shot outward like a starburst.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The explosions sent soldiers flying backward, golden energy crackling across their armor. Bodies hit the ground with dull thuds, many unconscious before they landed. The camp descended into chaos as men shouted and scrambled.

When the light faded, only the captain and five of his best remained standing, their armor smoking slightly from the impact.

"Impossible," one of the remaining soldiers breathed. "No Tarnished has ever..."

"Grace isn't just something to be hunted and harvested," Harry said, creating another disk of light. "It's meant to guide us, to help us build something better. Not... whatever this is."

The captain raised his shield again, but Harry noticed his stance was defensive rather than aggressive. "You wield the power of the Golden Order," he said quietly. "Yet you're no ordinary Tarnished, are you, boy?"

"No," Harry agreed, thinking of Melina, of magic, of two worlds colliding in ways he still didn't fully understand. "I'm really not."

The remaining soldiers looked to their captain for direction, clearly unsettled by this turn of events. The unconscious forms of their comrades scattered around the camp served as a reminder of what this young Tarnished could do.

"Your choice, captain," Harry said, the disk spinning faster, golden light illuminating the place. "We can keep fighting, or you can stop serving someone who treats people like spare parts."

Continuing from where the captain lowered his shield...

"It's not that simple, boy," the captain growled. "You think we haven't seen the horrors? Haven't questioned our service? Godrick holds a Great Rune. The world needs order restored."

"At what cost?" Harry challenged. "How many people have you sent to him? How many screams have you heard from that castle?"

The captain's grip tightened on his shield. "We do what must be done."

"No," Harry shook his head. "You do what's easy. Following orders, keeping your head down, pretending the screams don't haunt your nights."

Several soldiers shifted uncomfortably. The captain took a threatening step forward. "You know nothing of our burden!"

"I know about following the wrong leaders," Harry's voice carried across the camp. "Where I come from, there was a powerfulc dark wizard. People followed him out of fear, some because they agreed with him. Know what happened to them?"

The captain remained silent, but Harry could tell he was listening.

"They lost themselves," Harry continued. "Piece by piece, just like Godrick's victims. But they lost their souls instead of their limbs. Is that what you want? To lose everything that made you soldiers in the first place?"

"We swore oaths," the captain's voice wavered slightly.

"To protect people!" Harry's grace disk flared brighter. "Not to feed them to a madman! Look at yourself, look at your men. When was the last time any of you slept without nightmares? When was the last time you felt proud of what you're doing?"

The captain's shield lowered further. "The world is broken..."

"So fix it!" Harry stepped forward. "You're soldiers - trained, skilled, experienced. Think of what you could do if you protected people instead of hunting them. Think of how many lives you could save instead of destroy."

"And defy Godrick?" the captain scoffed. "He would destroy us all."

"He's one man," Harry countered. "A powerful one, yes, but still just a man. And he's not here right now, is he? But you are. Your men are. And you have a choice to make."

"A choice?" The captain laughed bitterly. "What choice?"

"To be the soldiers you were meant to be," Harry's voice softened. "To help rebuild this world instead of helping tear it apart. Grace isn't just power - it's guidance. And right now, it's telling you that this path you're on leads nowhere good."

The captain stood motionless for a long moment. Then, slowly, he reached up and removed his helmet. His face was ghostly pale, marked by deep black circles under his eyes. A long beard, streaked with grey, couldn't hide the exhaustion etched into every line of his face. But as he looked at Harry, something flickered in those tired eyes - a spark of something long forgotten.

"I haven't slept through the night in centuries years," he admitted quietly. "Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces. The ones we sent to him. The ones who begged..."

"Then make it right," Harry urged. "Start now. Today. Show everyone that there's another way."

The captain looked around at his men, at the unconscious soldiers starting to stir, at the castle looming in the distance. Then he looked back at Harry, and that spark in his eyes grew stronger.

"You really believe we can make a difference?" he asked, sounding younger despite his weathered appearance.

"I believe you already are," Harry gestured to his fallen men. "They'll wake up soon. When they do, they'll see their captain choosing to protect rather than hunt. That's how change begins."

The captain straightened, and for the first time, Harry saw the soldier he must have been before Godrick - proud, determined, honorable.

"Centuries," he said softly. "Centuries of nightmares. Perhaps..." a small smile cracked through his exhaustion, "perhaps it's time we all woke up."

He turned to his remaining men with new purpose, the spark in his eyes now a definite flame. "You heard the boy. We're returning to our true duty. Spread the word - we protect travelers now. We guard the innocent. And if Godrick wants to stop us..." he hefted his shield, "he's welcome to try."

The way his eyes glittered. Though the exhaustion remained, purpose had replaced resignation. Hope had replaced fear. He looked at Harry with newfound respect.

"I don't know what you are, young grace-bearer, but you've reminded an old soldier of what he once was. What we all were." He extended his hand. "Whatever comes next, you have allies here now."

Harry shook his hand firmly. "Good. Because something tells me we're going to need all the allies we can get."

The captain nodded grimly, but that spark remained in his eyes. "Indeed. Change is coming to Limgrave, it seems. And this time..." he looked at his men with pride, "we'll be on the right side of it."

The captain studied Harry for a long moment before turning to his men. "Clear the camp. Tend to the wounded. And..." he hesitated, decades of service warring with nascent hope, "spread the word. The hunters are becoming protectors."

"Sir?" one soldier asked uncertainly.

"You heard me," the captain's voice grew stronger. "The boy's right. We were soldiers once, not butchers. Time we remembered that."

As the remaining soldiers moved to help their fallen comrades, the captain turned back to Harry. "I hope you understand what you've started here, young one. Godrick will not take this lightly."

"Good," Harry said, letting the disk fade away. "It's time someone stood up to him anyway."

The captain nodded grimly. "Then we'll watch for your return, grace-bearer. And perhaps... perhaps we'll remember what it was like to serve something worth believing in."

As Harry turned to leave, he heard the captain begin issuing new orders - orders about protecting travelers rather than hunting them. It wasn't a complete victory, but it was a start.

Melina met him at the forest's edge, her visible eye bright with something that looked like pride. "Well done," she said softly. "Though I suspect you've just made things considerably more complicated."

Harry grinned. "When are they not complicated?" His expression grew serious. "But it was worth it. They needed someone to show them another way."

"And you certainly did that," Melina agreed, taking his hand. "Ready to return?"

Harry cast one last look at the camp, where soldiers were helping their awakening comrades, the captain's words about protection and duty spreading like ripples in a pond.

"Yeah," he said. "But something tells me we'll be back soon."

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