Chapitre 40: Pressure Released
The Flamels' cottage felt different upon their return - not smaller or larger, just... clearer somehow. Harry's new way of Seeing showed him how sunlight would move across the floor in the next moment, how dust motes would move in its beam.
"Hot chocolate, I think," Perenelle said firmly, heading for the kitchen. "Some conversations require sweetness."
Nicolas settled into his favorite armchair while Harry curled up on the sofa, Chrysa's warm weight pressed against his side.
"So," Nicolas said gently after Perenelle returned with steaming mugs, "shall we discuss what actually happened?"
Harry wrapped his hands around his mug, watching how the marshmallows would melt in the next few seconds. "She tried to..." his voice caught slightly. "She wanted to..."
"Take your place," Perenelle finished softly. "To continue her pattern through you."
Harry nodded, taking a sip of hot chocolate. The warmth helped steady him. "The silver tears weren't just for seeing. They were meant to make me... resonate with her. To doubt myself enough that..."
"That her pattern could overlay yours," Nicolas agreed. "A sophisticated approach to immortality, though ultimately flawed."
"She showed me things that weren't true," Harry said quietly. "About my friends, about..." he stopped as his throat tightened.
"Oh, mon petit," Perenelle moved to sit beside him. "It's alright to be upset. What she attempted was..." she paused, choosing her words carefully. "A violation."
The hot chocolate trembled in Harry's cup. His new sight showed him how each ripple would move in the next instant, but that simple clarity somehow made everything feel more real. More immediate.
"I almost believed her," he whispered. "About Charlotte and Penny and..." His voice cracked. "She made everything seem so..."
"You're seven years old, Harry," Nicolas said gently. "Regardless of your gifts or understanding, you're still a child who was targeted by something very old and very desperate."
Something about those words - about being reminded he was just seven - broke through the careful composure Harry had been maintaining. Tears spilled down his cheeks as everything hit him at once.
"She- she tried to make me think everyone was afraid of me," Harry sobbed. "That they only pretended to care because I was p-powerful. But that's not... that's not..."
Perenelle wrapped an arm around him as he cried. Chrysa moved to lay across his lap, her steady purr vibrating through him.
"The truest power," Nicolas said softly, "is in remaining yourself despite what others wish you to become. You did that, Harry. Even against something that had centuries to perfect its approach."
"But I almost didn't," Harry hiccupped. "If Chrysa hadn't... if Mohan hadn't..."
"That's why we have friends and teachers," Perenelle stroked his hair gently. "No one faces such things alone. Not even ancient oracles, though some forget that truth."
Harry wiped his eyes, but fresh tears replaced the old ones. "She wanted me to think seeking power was wrong. That I had to choose between being strong and helping people. But that's not..." he struggled to express it through his tears. "That's not how it works."
"No," Nicolas agreed. "Power itself is neutral. It's how it is used that matters." He leaned forward slightly. "Your instinct to become stronger while helping others - that's not a contradiction. It's who you are."
"The Oracle forgot that truth long ago," Perenelle added. "She sought power for its own sake, until maintaining her pattern became more important than why she wanted to maintain it."
Harry nodded, though tears still fell. His new sight showed him how each one would roll down his cheek in the next instant...
"I keep thinking," he said between shaky breaths, "about what would have happened if I'd believed her completely. If I'd started doubting everyone who cared about me..."
"But you didn't," Nicolas reminded him gently. "Even at seven, even against something so ancient and clever, you held onto your true nature."
Harry wiped his eyes again, the hot chocolate now cool in his cup. "I just... I always thought being grown-up meant being strong enough to handle everything alone."
"Ah," Perenelle squeezed his shoulder gently. "But that's not being grown-up at all. That's just being isolated."
Nicolas leaned forward in his chair. "Harry, you've been taking on more and more challenges. Fighting cursed vaults, protecting friends, seeking power to help others... These are noble goals, but..."
"But you're seven," Perenelle finished softly. "These shouldn't be your burdens yet."
Harry's throat tightened again. "But my journal... it shows me where to go, what needs to be done..."
"Perhaps," Nicolas said carefully, "that's part of what made you vulnerable to the Oracle. Always seeking the next challenge, the next adventure..." He paused, choosing his words. "Maybe it's time to set the journal aside for a while."
"But..." Harry started to protest, then stopped as fresh tears welled up. His new sight showed him how they would fall, and somehow that simple clarity made him understand. He was trying so hard to be grown up that he'd forgotten how to be a child.
"You don't have to stop learning or growing stronger," Perenelle assured him. "But perhaps... perhaps it's time to do those things at a child's pace. To play, to paint, to simply be seven years old."
"The journal will still be there when you're ready," Nicolas added. "When you're older and better prepared for what it shows you. But for now..."
"For now," Perenelle hugged him close, "let the adults handle the adventures. Let yourself be protected instead of always protecting others."
Harry buried his face against her shoulder, crying again but differently now. Not from pain or fear, but from relief. Relief at being told he didn't have to carry so much, didn't have to be so grown up yet. He didn't want to be the Boy-Who-Lived…
"I don't know how," he admitted in a small voice. "I don't know how to just be a kid anymore."
"Well," Nicolas smiled gently, "that's something we can help you learn. Starting with more hot chocolate, I think."
Perenelle summoned fresh hot chocolate while Harry wiped his eyes. Chrysa's purring had grown even louder, as if trying to physically vibrate away his distress.
"You know," Nicolas said conversationally, "when I was young - truly young, not just pretending to be through alchemy - I spent every summer trying to catch pixies in my mother's garden."
Harry looked up, curious despite his emotional exhaustion. "Did you succeed?"
"Oh heavens no," Nicolas chuckled. "I was terrible at it. But I had such fun trying. Built elaborate traps out of twine and flower petals, spent hours planning strategies..." He smiled at the memory. "Looking back, I'm quite certain my mother had enchanted the garden to keep pixies away entirely. But she let me try anyway."
"Why?" Harry asked, accepting a fresh mug from Perenelle.
"Because that's what childhood is for," Perenelle said softly. "For trying things that don't matter, for failing without consequences, for..." she gestured to the garden window. "For chasing pixies that might not even be there."
Harry watched a marshmallow slowly dissolve in his hot chocolate. His new sight showed him exactly how it would melt in the next moment, but somehow that simple predictability was comforting rather than limiting.
"I..." Harry hesitated, then the words spilled out. "I hate being the Boy-Who-Lived. Everyone watching all the time, expecting things..."
Chrysa pressed closer as his voice wavered. Nicolas and Perenelle remained quiet, letting him find his words.
"From the beginning, I could tell how dangerous everyone was. Every student, every teacher..." Harry's hands tightened around his mug. "I was terrified all the time. Anyone could have killed me so easily."
"Oh no," Perenelle murmured softly.
"That's why I started wanting power so badly," Harry admitted. "Because everyone around me was so strong, and I was just... just a baby who got lucky with a mirror."
He took a shaky breath. "But then... then I started noticing how they used their strength. Grandpa Albus would spend hours reading me stories, even when he had important work to do. Aunt Min would transform into a cat just to make me laugh..."
Fresh tears welled up. "Uncle Filius taught me chess and never let me win just because I was little. And Aunt Pomona always saved the best cookies for me, even when I'd gotten dirt all over her greenhouse..."
"They became your family," Nicolas said gently.
Harry nodded, wiping his eyes. "The Oracle... she tried to twist that. Made me think they only cared because I was powerful, or because they were afraid of what I might become. But that's not..." he hiccupped slightly. "That's not true at all."
"What is true?" Perenelle prompted softly.
"They love me," Harry whispered, as if saying it too loudly might break something. "Not because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived or because I'm powerful. They love me just because I'm... me."
He managed a wobbly smile. "Well, except Professor Snape." He stuck out his tongue. "He's just grumpy all the time."
The moment of levity faded as Harry's eyes darkened, fresh tears welling up. "And there it is again," he whispered. "Another offer. Another gift that makes me... special."
[Pool of Magicka - The Elder Scrolls] – Costs 0CP, 150CP available to spend.
The arcane energy known as magicka leaks into Nirn through the Sun and Stars, holes into the divine Realm of Aetherius. And while normally leaving the Aurbis would result in losing access to magicka, that is not the case here. You now have a decently sized pool of magicka that regenerates over time.
Chrysa pressed closer as he wiped his eyes. "That's why people come to me, you know? Because I can do things others can't. Because I keep getting these... these powers."
"The offers are part of who you are," Nicolas said gently. "But they don't define your worth."
"But they're why people think they can ask me for help," Harry's voice cracked. "Why everyone expects... expects..."
Perenelle hugged him closer as he struggled with the words. "What does this offer show you, mon petit?"
Harry took a shaky breath. "It's about magicka. Real magic, flowing from the stars themselves." His hands trembled slightly around his mug. "It means... it means I'll always have magic, no matter what. That it's really mine, not just borrowed or..."
He trailed off, coming to a realization even as he tried to wipe his tears away. This wasn't just another power making him special. This was something fundamental, something that made magic truly his.
"I think," he said slowly, "I want to accept it. Not because it makes me the Boy-Who-Lived, but because..." he managed a small smile through his tears. "Because it means magic will always be there for me, like family."
Harry closed his eyes, focusing on the new sensation within his Po Soul. Where before he'd always had to draw magical energy from the outside world and carefully pool it, now there was something different - a permanent reservoir of magic that belonged solely to him.
"It's..." he pet Chrysa's furry head gently. "It's like having a well inside me. Even if I use all the water, it fills back up on its own."
He could feel how his Po Soul had changed to accommodate this new feature. The magic pool wasn't just stored there - it was generated there, replenishing itself naturally without needing any external source.
"And I can still draw magic from outside too," Harry added, opening his eyes. "It's not replacing anything, just... adding something that's truly mine."
Nicolas nodded thoughtfully. "Like having both a well and a river. You can draw from either, or both."
Harry wiped his eyes again, feeling drained but somehow lighter. The hot chocolate had gone cold, but he didn't mind. Chrysa's warmth and the Flamels' presence felt more important than perfect temperature.
Nicolas and Perenelle exchanged a quick, astonished glance at his description of internal magic, but neither commented directly on it. Instead, Perenelle simply summoned a blanket and wrapped it around Harry's shoulders.
"You know," Nicolas said softly, "there's no rush to figure everything out. You have time to just... be."
"But what about Charlotte's scars?" Harry asked in a small voice. "And the other vaults, and..."
"Let the adults handle those things for now," Perenelle stroked his hair gently. "You've carried enough burdens already."
Harry leaned against her, suddenly feeling very tired.
"Can we..." he yawned slightly. "Can we maybe make cookies later? Just because?"
"Of course," Perenelle smiled warmly. "Just because is the very best reason."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone