The Tarnished Potter

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Chapter 2 (A Strange New Magic), Chapter 3 (A Guide's Heart, A Wizard's Promise), Chapter 4 (The Grafting Song), and Chapter 5 (The Boy Who Lives Meets The Eye That Dreams) are already available for Patrons.

The roots of the Whomping Willow stretched endlessly behind them as Harry, Hermione, Ron, Sirius, Professor Lupin, and the bound Peter Pettigrew emerged into the cool night air. Harry's mind was still reeling from everything he'd learned in the past hour. Pettigrew was alive. Sirius was innocent. And most incredibly of all...
"You mean it?" Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he walked alongside his godfather. "I can really come live with you?"
Sirius's gaunt face broke into a warm smile that seemed to shed years off his appearance. "Of course you can. That is..." His smile faltered slightly. "If you want to."
"Want to?" Harry almost laughed. "Leave the Dursleys? It's all I've ever—" He stopped himself, suddenly feeling vulnerable. But Sirius's understanding nod told him he didn't need to explain further.
"Once we get my name cleared," Sirius continued, his eyes bright with hope, "we can do all the things I should have been there for. I've missed so much..." There was a hint of pain in his voice that made Harry's chest tighten.
"Like what?" Harry asked, eager to hear more.
Sirius's face lit up. "Well, for starters, I can teach you to properly ride a motorcycle – a flying one, of course. Your father and I used to race them during holidays. Drove your mother absolutely mad with worry." He chuckled at the memory. "And I've got stories about your parents that would make McGonagall's hair curl even tighter. Did you know your father once transfigured all the suits of armor to do the can-can during breakfast?"
Harry grinned, drinking in every detail. "Really?"
"Oh, that was nothing compared to what we did in sixth year. Though," Sirius glanced at Lupin with a mischievous smile, "Moony here was usually the voice of reason."
"Someone had to be," Lupin replied dryly, though his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Though I seem to recall it was my idea to charm the Slytherin common room entrance to only open if you sang 'God Save the Queen' in perfect pitch."
"See, Harry?" Sirius laughed. "Perfect Prefect Lupin wasn't as innocent as he appeared. Speaking of which, we'll need to work on your Marauder credentials. Being James Potter's son, you've got a reputation to uphold."
"He's doing fine in that department," Hermione interjected, rolling her eyes. "Between sneaking out to Hogsmeade and flying that car to school..."
"Flying car?" Sirius's eyes widened with delight. "Now that's a story I need to hear!"
"Brilliant, that was," Ron added through gritted teeth, still limping along. "Though the landing could've been better."
"You'll have to tell me everything," Sirius said eagerly. "We'll have plenty of time once we're home. I was thinking, the house in Devon has this brilliant library – nothing like what your father would have wanted, but I reckon you might appreciate it more than he would have." He glanced at Harry uncertainly. "Unless you're exactly like James and think libraries are just good places for naps?"
"I... I like reading," Harry said, thinking of all the nights he'd spent reading under his blanket with a flashlight at the Dursleys'. "Especially about Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Just like Lily," Sirius said softly. "She was brilliant at Defense, you know. Everyone always talked about her Charms work, but she could duel with the best of them. And speaking of Defense..." He grinned. "Moony here tells me you can produce a Patronus? At thirteen?"
Harry felt his face grow warm. "Well, sort of..."
"Sort of nothing," Lupin interjected proudly. "It's a fully corporeal Patronus, Sirius. A stag."
Sirius stopped walking entirely, his face a mixture of shock and pride. "A stag? Like... like Prongs?"
Harry nodded, and Sirius had to wipe his eyes quickly. "James would have been... Merlin, Harry, he would have been so proud. Both of them would have been."
"You really think so?" Harry asked quietly.
"I know so." Sirius placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "And I promise you, from now on, you'll never have to wonder if someone's proud of you. You'll have a proper home, proper holidays... proper birthdays too. No more of whatever those Muggles called celebrations."
"You don't have to—" Harry started, but Sirius cut him off.
"I want to. I have twelve years to make up for, and I intend to start right away. First order of business is getting you a proper broom servicing kit for that Firebolt. Can't have my godson's broom looking anything less than perfect, can we?"
"The Firebolt?" Ron perked up despite his pain. "Hang on – that was from you?"
"Got to do something with all that Black family gold," Sirius winked. "Though I admit, watching McGonagall strip it down for curses wasn't part of the plan."
They all laughed, and for a moment, Harry felt lighter than he had in years. This was what it felt like to have a family, he realized. This was what he'd been missing all along. 
Hermione winced slightly at the mention of the Firebolt since she had been the one to report to McGonagall about the Firebolt. She knew she had yet to properly apologize to Harry for doing it behind his back.
"Once we get to the castle," Sirius was saying, "we'll sort everything out with Dumbledore. Then we can start planning the move. The house needs some work – been empty for years – but I reckon between us we can make it proper homey. You can decorate your room however you like, of course. Even Gryffindor colors."
"Harry, that's wonderful!" Hermione beamed from where she was helping Ron limp along. His leg, hastily splinted after Sirius had pulled him from under the Willow, still looked painful.
"Yeah, mate," Ron grimaced through his pain. "Brilliant... though I'd appreciate if we could move a bit faster. This leg's killing me."
Professor Lupin, who had been quiet for a while while keeping his wand trained on Pettigrew, smiled. "We're almost to the castle. Madam Pomfrey will have that fixed in no time, Mr. Weasley."
Harry's mind was already thinking of a life without his relatives. No more Dursleys. No more bars on his windows. No more cupboard under the stairs. He could have a real home, with someone who actually wanted him there.
But Harry noticed Hermione had stopped walking. She was staring up at the sky, her face suddenly pale. "Professor Lupin..." she whispered.
Harry followed her gaze. His heart dropped. The clouds were parting, revealing a perfect, gleaming full moon.
Professor Lupin had gone rigid. His wand hand began to shake, and the wand itself slipped from his fingers. His face was draining of color, his limbs beginning to twitch.
"Run," Sirius breathed. Then louder: "RUN!"
But before anyone could move, Pettigrew dove for Lupin's dropped wand. In the chaos that followed, Harry saw several things happen at once: Sirius lunged for Pettigrew, Hermione screamed, and Pettigrew – with a desperate wave of the wand – blasted apart his bindings. In the blink of an eye, where the man had stood, a rat scurried into the darkness.
"NO!" Sirius roared, but a more immediate problem demanded their attention.
Professor Lupin was transforming. His body contorted, clothes ripping as fur sprouted across his skin. His face elongated into a snout, his hands curling into claws. Ron tried to scramble backward but collapsed with a cry of pain as his injured leg gave way.
The werewolf that had been Lupin raised its head and howled.
"Leave it to me!" Sirius shouted, placing himself between the students and the werewolf. "RUN!"
The werewolf lunged. Sirius's spell caught it in the chest, but this only seemed to enrage it further. The beast wheeled around, its yellow eyes fixed on Sirius with predatory focus.
"Stupefy!" Harry's spell hit the werewolf's flank, drawing its attention. The creature's head snapped toward him, and Harry's blood ran cold as those inhuman eyes locked onto him.
"Harry, come on!" Hermione grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the forest. The werewolf bounded after them, its powerful legs eating up the distance between them with frightening speed.
They ran. Past the first line of trees, deeper into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. Branches whipped at their faces, roots threatened to trip them, but they didn't dare slow down. Behind them, they could hear the werewolf crashing through the undergrowth, getting closer with each passing second.
"This way!" Harry gasped, pulling Hermione toward a denser patch of trees. His lungs were burning, his legs almost giving out, but the sound of snapping jaws behind them kept him moving.
Somewhere in the distance, they could hear Sirius shouting their names, but the sound was growing fainter. They were on their own.
The forest grew darker around them, the trees pressing closer together. The moon's light barely penetrated the canopy now, making it harder to see where they were going. Harry's foot caught on a root, and he stumbled, pulling Hermione down with him. They rolled behind a large oak tree, pressing themselves against its trunk, trying to stifle their desperate breathing.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then came the sound of leaves crunching under heavy paws, growing closer and closer.
Harry gripped his wand tighter, his heart thundering in his chest. Beside him, Hermione's hand found his, squeezing it tightly. They both knew they couldn't outrun a werewolf forever.
"When I say now," Harry whispered, picking up a stone, "run left."
Hermione nodded, her face pale in the fragments of moonlight that filtered through the canopy. Harry hurled the stone as far as he could to their right. The sound of it crashing through branches drew an immediate snarl from the werewolf, followed by the thundering of paws charging in that direction.
"Now!"
They burst from their hiding spot, running as quietly as possible in the opposite direction. Years of escaping Dudley's gang had taught Harry the value of stealth, and Hermione followed his lead, both of them placing their feet carefully to minimize noise.
They ducked behind a cluster of thick trees, pressing their backs against the rough bark. Harry's heart was pounding so hard he was sure Lupin would hear it.
"This isn't working," Hermione whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "We can't keep this up all night."
She was right. They were both exhausted, and Harry could feel his legs shaking from the strain. The werewolf, on the other hand, seemed tireless.
A howl pierced the night, closer than they'd expected. They exchanged terrified glances before breaking into a run again. Harry grabbed another stone, tossing it far to their right. The distraction bought them precious seconds to dive behind a large boulder.
"Hogwarts," Harry panted. "You need to get to the castle. Get Dumbledore."

"I'm not leaving you!" Hermione hissed back.
"Hermione, please—"
"No, Harry! We stick together!"
The sound of snapping twigs made them both freeze. Harry peered around the boulder, then quickly pulled back. Lupin was stalking through the undergrowth less than thirty feet away, his massive form illuminated by patches of moonlight.
They waited, barely breathing, as the werewolf prowled past their hiding spot. Once the sound of his movements had faded slightly, Harry turned to Hermione.
"Listen to me," he whispered urgently. "If we stay together, he'll catch us both. You're faster than me—"
"Harry James Potter, if you think for one second—"
"—and someone needs to get help—"
"—that I'm going to abandon you here—"
"—before we both end up—"
A deafening roar cut through their whispered argument. They spun around to find Lupin standing atop the boulder they'd been hiding behind, his yellow eyes gleaming with predatory focus. How had he circled around so quietly?
Time seemed to slow down. Harry saw the muscles in the werewolf's legs bunch, preparing to spring. He saw Hermione's face, frozen in terror beside him. In that split second, he made his decision.
"NO!" Harry shouted, shoving Hermione as hard as he could to the side. She tumbled away just as Lupin launched himself through the air.
The impact knocked the breath from Harry's lungs as he hit the forest floor, Lupin's massive weight pinning him down. Hot breath washed over his face as powerful jaws snapped inches from his nose. Harry turned his head away, feeling saliva drip onto his cheek.
The werewolf's claws dug into his shoulders, and Harry could smell the creature's overwhelming scent. Each snap of those terrible jaws came closer and closer to his face. He tried to reach for his wand, but his arms were pinned.
"Harry!" Hermione's scream seemed to come from very far away.
Another snap, and Harry felt teeth graze his ear. In that moment of pure terror, something strange happened. A warmth began to build in his chest.
The words came unbidden to Harry's lips, ancient and powerful, burning in his throat like liquid fire: "DRAKGAST FLAMMENOR!"
Heat exploded through his right arm. Harry watched in shock as his flesh began to change, scales erupting across his skin, his fingers elongating and thickening into massive claws. His entire arm grew to monstrous proportions, becoming something that belonged more to a dragon than a human. Golden scales glinted in the moonlight, and raw power thrummed through muscles that shouldn't exist.
Acting on pure instinct, Harry swung his transformed arm. The impact sent Lupin flying through the air like a ragdoll, crashing through several younger trees before slamming into an ancient oak with a sickening thud.
As quickly as it had come, the transformation receded. Harry stared at his now-normal arm in disbelief, flexing his fingers as if to make sure they were really his.
"Harry!" Hermione scrambled to his side, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination. "Are you alright? What was that? How did you—"
"I don't know," Harry cut her off, still staring at his hand. "I don't know what just happened. Those words... I've never heard them before. They just came to me, and then my arm..."
"It looked like a dragon's limb," Hermione said, her academic curiosity briefly overriding her fear. "The scaling pattern was similar to a Hungarian Horntail's, but the coloration was more like—"
A deep, guttural growl interrupted her analysis. They both turned to see Lupin rising slowly from the splintered remains of the trees. Blood matted the fur on his chest where Harry's claws had struck him, but if anything, the injury seemed to have enraged him further. His yellow eyes blazed with primal fury as he fixed his gaze on Harry.
"Hermione," Harry said quietly, pushing her behind him, "when I tell you to, run."
"Harry, no—"
"JUST DO IT!"
Lupin charged, covering the distance between them with frightening speed. His jaws were open, fangs gleaming, a roar of pure rage tearing from his throat.
The words came easier this time: "DRAKGAST FLAMMENOR!"
Once again, Harry's arm transformed, growing and changing into the massive dragon's limb. This time, he was ready for it, planting his feet firmly as Lupin leaped.
Harry's scaled hand snatched the werewolf out of the air, his claws carefully positioned to restrain but not pierce. Lupin thrashed in his grip, snapping and snarling, but the dragon's arm was too powerful to break free from.
"Get back!" Harry shouted to Hermione, struggling to maintain his hold as Lupin continued to fight. The werewolf's claws raked against the golden scales but couldn't penetrate them.
Hermione backed away slowly, her wand raised. "Harry, your arm... it's incredible, but how are you doing this?"
"I told you, I don't—" Harry grunted as Lupin nearly wrenched free, tightening his grip carefully. "I don't know! I don't understand what is happening."
Lupin threw his head back and howled, the sound filled with frustration and rage. His yellow eyes locked onto Harry's, and for a moment, Harry thought he saw something flicker in them – a flash of recognition, quickly overwhelmed by the wolf's fury.
"Professor Lupin," Harry said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the strain of holding the massive werewolf. "I know you're in there somewhere. Please... we don't want to hurt you."
The werewolf's only response was another snarl, snapping his jaws barely inches from Harry's face.
"Hermione, we need to—"
The words died in his throat as a haunting sound echoed through the forest – the collective howling of what had to be at least a dozen wolves.
"The forest's werewolves," Hermione whispered in horror. "They must have heard Professor Lupin's calls!"
Harry's mind raced. One werewolf was bad enough, but a pack? Even with his newfound power, those weren't odds he wanted to face. Lupin seemed to sense his pack approaching too, his struggles becoming even more fierce.
"New plan," Harry said, trying to think through their options. "We need to get Professor Lupin away from here before the pack arrives. If they join forces..."
"But how? We can't exactly lead a werewolf back to the castle!"
Harry's arm was beginning to ache from the strain of holding Lupin. The scales had stopped spreading, but he could feel the power pulsing through them, almost like a heartbeat. Something about it felt... familiar, though he couldn't explain why.
More howls, closer now. They were running out of time.
"The Shrieking Shack," Harry said suddenly. "It was built to contain him during full moons, remember? If we can get him there..."
"That's halfway across the grounds!" Hermione protested. "And we'd have to get past the Whomping Willow!"
"Do you have a better idea?"
Another chorus of howls, even closer. Lupin's head snapped toward the sound, his struggles momentarily ceasing.
"We need to move now," Harry said. "Help me keep him contained. If he breaks free before we reach the Shack..."
He didn't need to finish the thought. They both knew what would happen.
"Ready?" Harry adjusted his grip on the still-snarling werewolf, trying to figure out how to walk while essentially carrying a creature twice his size. The dragon arm seemed to respond to his needs, shifting its hold to make the task more manageable.
Hermione raised her wand, ready to cast if needed. "Ready."
They began moving through the forest as quickly as they dared, trying to stay quiet despite their unusual burden. The howls continued to echo around them, making it impossible to tell exactly where the pack was. Lupin had gone eerily still in Harry's grasp, his eyes fixed on the darkness around them, ears twitching at every sound.
"Harry," Hermione whispered as they navigated between the trees, "when this is over, we need to figure out what's happening to you. That arm... those words... they're not any magic I've ever read about."
"Let's focus on surviving the night first," Harry replied, though he silently agreed.
They were halfway to the Shrieking Shack when the first howl pierced the night air, much closer than before. Harry tightened his dragon-scaled grip on Lupin, who renewed his struggles.
"Keep moving," Harry grunted, fighting to maintain control. "We're almost—"
A series of snarls cut through the darkness. Hermione's wandlight illuminated four massive shapes emerging from the trees ahead, their yellow eyes gleaming with hunger. The werewolves were larger than Lupin, their fur matted and wild, moving with the confident swagger of creatures that knew they had cornered their prey.
"Harry!" Hermione's scream of warning echoed through the forest as the pack charged forward.
Something stirred in Harry's blood, and new words formed in his mind, darker and more terrible than before. They tasted like decay and death on his tongue as he spoke them:
"DRAKMOR PESTILENS!"
The transformation was instantaneous and horrifying. Harry felt his entire head stretching, changing, becoming something monstrous. Scales erupted across his face, his jaw elongating into a draconic muzzle filled with razor-sharp teeth. His vision sharpened, the night becoming clear as day, and he could smell the fear radiating from both Hermione and the approaching werewolves.
Harry threw his head back and roared, the sound more terrible than anything a mere werewolf could produce. The pack hesitated for a split second – and that's when he struck.
Drawing in a deep breath, Harry felt something toxic building in his transformed throat. When he exhaled, a cloud of reddish-brown mist erupted from his maw, rolling forward like a wave of decay. The air itself seemed to rot where the breath touched it, grass withering instantly beneath its touch.
The werewolves tried to leap away, but they were too late. The mist enveloped them, and their howls of aggression turned to shrieks of agony. Harry watched through draconic eyes as their fur began to fall out in clumps, their skin blistering and bleeding wherever the breath had touched them. The proud predators transformed into whimpering, terrified creatures in seconds.
"Oh my god," Hermione whispered, her voice trembling.
The pack scattered, leaving trails of blood as they fled into the darkness. Their pain-filled cries echoed through the forest, growing fainter with distance. The toxic mist dissipated into nothing, leaving behind a path of dead vegetation, and birds started falling from the sky near the place the mist had been.
Harry felt the dragon features receding, his head returning to normal. The taste of rot lingered in his mouth, making him want to gag. He looked up at Lupin, still struggling in his dragon hand's grip, though with noticeably less strength than before.
Something dark and primal surged through Harry. Without conscious thought, he raised the transformed arm high and slammed Lupin into the ground with enough force to crater the earth. The werewolf let out a yelp of pain and then went still.
The dragon arm shimmered and vanished, leaving Harry's normal hand trembling in its place. He staggered backward, suddenly exhausted.
"Harry!" Hermione caught him before he could fall. "Are you alright? What was that? That breath... I've never seen anything like it!"
"Neither have I," Harry said weakly, staring at the unconscious form of their professor. "I don't... I don't know what's happening to me, Hermione. Those words, these transformations... they feel natural, like they've always been part of me, but..."
"We need to get help," Hermione said firmly, though Harry could feel her hands shaking as she supported him. "That magic... it wasn't like anything in our textbooks. And your head – it was a full transformation! The scales, the teeth..."
"Did I..." Harry swallowed hard. "Did I kill them? The werewolves?"
"...No," Hermione said quickly, but she wasn't sure what exactly Harry did to them. "They were injured, badly, but they ran away. Whatever that breath was, it seemed designed to drive them off rather than kill them. But Harry, this is serious magic. The kind that shouldn't be possible without years of study and preparation. And you're doing it instinctively!"
Harry looked at his hand again, remembering the feeling of scales and power. "We need to get Professor Lupin somewhere safe first. Then we can figure out... whatever this is."
Hermione nodded, casting a levitation charm on Lupin's unconscious form. "The Shrieking Shack is still our best option. Can you walk?"
"Yeah," Harry pushed himself upright, though his legs felt like jelly. "I think that last transformation took more out of me than the others."
They began making their way toward the Whomping Willow, Lupin's floating body following behind them. Harry's mind was racing, trying to make sense of what had happened. First the dragon arm, then the toxic breath... what was next? And more importantly, where was this power coming from?
"Hermione," he said quietly as they walked, "don't tell anyone about this. Not yet. Not until we understand what's happening."
"But Harry, Dumbledore might be able to help—"
"Please," Harry cut her off. "I just... I need time to figure this out. Something about this feels personal, like it's meant for me specifically. Those words weren't spells, they were... something else. Something older."
Hermione was quiet for a moment before responding. "Alright. But promise me you'll be careful. That kind of power... it could be dangerous."
Harry thought about the way the werewolves had screamed, the way their flesh had blistered and bled. "I know," he said softly. "Believe me, I know."
The night air suddenly grew colder, an unnatural chill that had nothing to do with the weather. Harry and Hermione froze mid-step, their breath visible in the suddenly frigid air. Above them, dark shapes began to move across the star-filled sky, their tattered robes billowing like smoke.
"Dementors," Hermione whispered her voice tight with fear. "Dozens of them."
Harry watched as the dark creatures streamed overhead, all heading in the same direction – back toward where they'd left Sirius and Ron. His heart dropped like a stone.
"They're going after Sirius," he said, already starting to run. His exhaustion from the dragon transformations seemed to fade.
"Harry, wait!" Hermione called out, running after him. "You can barely stand!"
He ignored her, pushing his legs harder. The memory of Sirius's words echoed in his mind: "You could come live with me... if you wanted... once my name is cleared..." The first real chance at a proper family he'd ever had was in danger.
They burst through the treeline just in time to see Sirius trying to fight off the Dementors with his borrowed wand. His spells seemed weak and unfocused – hardly surprising after twelve years in Azkaban.
"Impedimenta!" Sirius shouted, his voice hoarse. "Stupefy! STUPEFY!"
The spells barely seemed to affect the Dementors, who continued their relentless advance. On the other side of the clearing, Ron was backing away from three of the creatures, his face pale with terror.
"Help!" Ron screamed, stumbling backward. "Someone help!"
"The Patronus Charm!" Hermione grabbed Harry's arm. "It's the only thing that will work against this many!"
Harry raised his wand, trying to ignore how badly his hand was shaking. He was beyond exhausted – the dragon transformations had drained him more than he'd realized. The cold presence of the Dementors was already affecting him, making his vision swim. In the distance, he could hear his mother's screams beginning to echo in his mind.
"Harry, hurry!"
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus. Happy memories... he needed happy memories...
The first time Sirius had offered him a home, a real home, away from the Dursleys. The way his godfather's eyes had lit up with hope...
Hermione throwing her arms around him after being unpetrified in their second year, her voice full of pride as she told him he'd solved it...
Meeting Ron on the Hogwarts Express, sharing sweets and laughs, the first real friend he'd ever had...
The moment he'd read his Hogwarts letter, realizing he wasn't alone, that there was a place where he belonged...
Power surged through Harry, different from the dragon magic but no less potent. His wand grew warm in his hand as he opened his eyes and shouted:
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
Golden light exploded from his wand, so bright it was almost blinding. The clearing was suddenly bathed in radiance as bright as daylight, forcing everyone to shield their eyes. Through the glare, Harry saw something massive taking shape – not the usual silvery-white of a Patronus, but brilliant, molten gold.
The light coalesced into the form of an enormous elk, its antlers spreading wide like the branches of an ancient tree. Golden flames seemed to dance along its form, and its eyes blazed like miniature suns. It was easily twice the size of a normal Patronus, its presence filling the clearing with warmth and power.
The Dementors recoiled immediately. The golden elk charged toward them, its hooves leaving trails of light in the air. The Dementors scattered before them, fleeing into the night sky like leaves in a storm.
Harry felt his legs giving out. The world began to blur around the edges as exhaustion finally claimed him. As he fell, he saw a few things happen:
The golden elk continuing to chase down the last of the Dementors...
Sirius staring at the Patronus with an expression of awe...
Ron scrambling to his feet, his mouth open in amazement...
And Hermione running toward him, calling his name...
"Harry! HARRY!"
The last thing he saw before consciousness fled completely was the golden elk returning to the clearing. It looked down at him with golden eyes, and for a moment, Harry thought he saw something familiar in its gaze. Then darkness claimed him, and he knew no more.
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Consciousness returned slowly, accompanied by the gentle whisper of wind through grass. Harry's eyes fluttered open, expecting to see the familiar stone ceiling of Hogwarts' hospital wing. Instead, he found himself staring up at an impossibly vast sky, painted in hues of gold and amber he'd never seen before.
"What...?" he mumbled, pushing himself up despite his body's protests.
Grass. He was lying in grass, but not the neat lawns of Hogwarts. This was wild, untamed, dotted with small white flowers he didn't recognize. His head spun as he forced himself to stand, his legs trembling with exhaustion.
That's when he saw it.
Before him stretched a landscape that seemed pulled from a fantasy book. Massive chunks of what appeared to be castle ruins lay scattered across the rolling hills as if some giant hand had carelessly tossed them aside. The stones were weathered and covered in moss and vines. There was also a church nearby, and Harry was sure he saw a golden knight patrolling, but he paid no attention to it.
But it was what lay beyond that made his breath catch in his throat.
A castle rose in the distance, its spires reaching toward the golden sky like grasping fingers. It dwarfed Hogwarts, making his beloved school seem like a child's plaything in comparison. The architecture was different too – more angular, more threatening, as if it had been built not to welcome but to warn.
And then... the Tree.
Harry's mind struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. It dominated everything, rising so high into the sky that its upper branches disappeared into the clouds. The entire thing seemed to be made of pure, living gold, its trunk seemed wider than Hogwarts itself. Its branches spread out across the heavens like a vast network of golden veins, casting the world below in an eternal amber twilight.
"I must be dreaming," Harry whispered to himself, his voice sounding strange in this alien place.
"I never thought I'd see a Tarnished with such... strange clothes."
The voice behind him was melodious. Harry spun around, nearly losing his balance in his weakened state.
A young woman stood there, watching him with an expression of quiet curiosity. She appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties, dressed in a way that reminded Harry of the illustrations in his History of Magic textbook – she was wearing a hooded brown-golden cloak that draped over her shoulders and upper body. Beneath this, she wears a long dress that appears to be made of multiple layers. The main dress is a deep brown/burgundy color with intricate golden embroidery patterns.
Her dress features a high collar and long sleeves that widen slightly at the wrists. There are subtle gold accents and trim throughout the dress that catch the light. On her feet, she wears simple leather boots.
But it was her face that caught and held his attention, she was quite pretty and cute to look at. Her right eye was a striking shade of purple. Her left eye was sealed shut, marked by three parallel scars that looked like claw marks across the lid.
"Greeting, Chosen Tarnished," she said, offering a small bow. "I am Melina."
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