บท 4: Tree Sentinel
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Back in his small bedroom at Privet Drive, Harry sat heavily on his bed, the fatigue from channeling grace finally catching up with him. He looked up at Melina, who remained standing nearby, her presence somehow making the ordinary room feel less mundane.
"So what happens if another assassin shows up?" he asked. "I doubt I can channel enough grace to make a nice glowing ball to throw at them."
"They will likely wait before attempting another attack," Melina assured him. "Breaking through the barriers between worlds requires considerable effort. However..." she paused, considering her words, "if you are threatened, use the ring I gave you to call me, or your wand to defend yourself."
"Can't use my wand," Harry sighed. "It's against the law for underage wizards to use magic outside of school. I'd get expelled faster than you can say 'Ministry of Magic.'"
Melina's eye narrowed slightly. "You're telling me that your world's authorities would rather see you defenseless against supernatural assassins than break their rules about underage magic?"
"Pretty much, yeah." Harry shrugged. "Mister Weasley told me of a case when a wizard used magic against a muggle who tried to kill him with a knife, and the Ministry of Magic snapped his wand."
"That is..." Melina seemed to be searching for the right word, "monumentally foolish."
"No argument here," Harry laughed. "Though don't let Hermione hear you say that. She'd probably give you a three-hour lecture on the importance of magical regulation."
"Your friend sounds... dedicated to rules."
"That's one way of putting it," Harry grinned, then noticed Melina swaying slightly. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," she steadied herself. "Being in my home realm for that time has given me enough strength to remain here longer, if you wish. I could stay and guard you, at least for a while."
Harry was touched by the offer, but shook his head. "No, you should rest. I don't want you exhausting yourself on my account. Besides," he gestured around his room, "not much to do here anyway, unless you fancy watching me do summer homework."
"Are you certain?" Melina asked, concern evident in her voice. "The assassins-"
"Will probably wait, like you said," Harry interrupted gently. "And I've got the ring if anything happens. I'll be fine."
Melina studied him for a moment before nodding. "Very well. But promise me you'll call if you need help, regardless of the hour."
"I promise," Harry said solemnly, then added with a small smile, "Though I'm not sure time works the same way between our worlds anyway."
"It doesn't," Melina confirmed. "Which is why you should be even less hesitant to call."
"Noted," Harry said, then remembered something. "Oh, and Melina? I meant what I said before. About helping you find your own purpose."
She went very still, and Harry thought he saw something flicker in her eye - hope, perhaps, or fear. Maybe both.
"Harry..." she started, but he cut her off.
"I know, I know - helping me is purpose enough," he mimicked her tone, making her lips twitch slightly. "But that's not how it works. Trust me, I spent years thinking my only purpose was to be the Boy Who Lived, to live up to everyone's expectations. It took good friends to show me I could be more than that."
"This is different," Melina said softly.
"Is it?" Harry challenged. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks pretty similar. Someone decided your purpose for you, and you just... accepted it."
"I chose this path," she insisted.
"Did you? Or did you choose it because you thought it was the only option?"
Melina was quiet for a long moment. "You are... remarkably perceptive for someone so young."
"Nah," Harry grinned. "Just experienced in dealing with destiny and all that rubbish. Besides, I'm not saying you have to change everything right now. Just... think about it, yeah?"
A small, genuine smile graced Melina's features. "You are kind, Harry Potter."
"So people keep telling me," he yawned. "Though personally, I think I'm just stubborn."
"Perhaps both," Melina said, her form starting to shimmer with blue light. "Rest now. You'll need your strength for our next lesson."
"Looking forward to it," Harry said honestly. "Though maybe next time we could skip the part where you show me castles full of murderous collectors?"
"I make no promises," Melina's voice held a hint of amusement. "The Lands Between are full of such... interesting characters."
"Brilliant," Harry muttered. "Can't wait to hear about all the other cheerful individuals I might have to deal with."
"Sleep well, Harry," Melina said, her form becoming translucent. "And remember - call if you need me."
"I will," he promised. "And Melina? Thanks. For everything."
She smiled one last time before dissolving into blue lights that faded away, leaving Harry alone in his room. He lay back on his bed, mind spinning with thoughts of golden trees, grafted madmen, and a mysterious woman who seemed determined to help him while denying herself the same care.
"Definitely need to work on that," he murmured to himself as sleep began to take hold. His last coherent thought was that at least this summer wouldn't be boring - though given his track record, that might not be a good thing.
In the quiet of his room, the ring on his finger pulsed once with warm light, as if responding to his thoughts, before settling back to its normal state. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, drifted off to sleep.
Harry woke to sunlight streaming through his window and Hedwig's soft hooting. His first conscious thought was relief - no dreams of golden trees, grafted madmen, or mysterious assassins had plagued his sleep.
"Morning, Hedwig," he yawned, reaching out to stroke her feathers. She nipped his fingers affectionately, making him smile. "At least you're not complicated, girl. Just want your treats and the occasional letter delivery."
Hedwig puffed up importantly at the mention of deliveries, and Harry's thoughts turned to Hermione. His hand absently went to the ring on his finger as he imagined writing that letter.
"Dear Hermione," he muttered sarcastically to himself, "Hope your summer's going well. By the way, I've discovered there's another world connected to ours, with a madman who graft body parts onto himself and something called Outer Gods that might be using Voldemort as a cosmic puppet. Also, I'm learning to use ancient magic called grace from a mysterious woman who lives in said world. Please don't worry. Love, Harry."
Hedwig tilted her head at him questioningly.
"Yeah, that would go over brilliantly," Harry snorted. "She'd either think I've gone mad or spend the rest of summer researching Outer Gods instead of doing her homework. Though knowing Hermione, probably both."
He got up and started doing some basic stretches he'd learned from watching Dudley's abandoned exercise videos. If he was going to face assassins and madmen with too many arms, being in better shape couldn't hurt.
"Wonder if physical fitness affects magical strength," he mused as he moved through a series of push-ups. "You'd think someone would have studied that. Though wizards aren't exactly known for their logic, are they?"
After an hour of exercises that left him pleasantly sore, Harry headed downstairs for breakfast. The Dursleys were already at the table, steadfastly ignoring him as usual.
"Pass the toast, boy," Uncle Vernon grunted without looking up from his newspaper.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied, adding under his breath, "Wouldn't want you to strain yourself reaching across the table. Might burn a calorie."
"What was that?" Vernon's mustache twitched dangerously.
"Nothing, just commenting on the weather," Harry said innocently, though he couldn't help thinking how uncle Vernon would fare against Godrick the Grafted. The mental image of his uncle running away from a many-armed madman almost made him choke on his toast.
After lunch (during which Dudley made several pig-like sounds that Harry chose not to comment on), he returned to his room and pulled out a piece of parchment. Maybe he should write to Hermione after all - but only to tell her that she didn't need to look on the Erdtree Healing spell, he was sure that even if she checked all books of the world, she wouldn't find anything since the said spell doesn't even come from this world.
"Dear Hermione," he wrote, "Hope your summer is going well. Don't worry, I'm fine - just doing some independent study on healing magic. Do you remember the 'Erdtree Healing' spell, well don't worry about, is nothing important, just something I read from a very old muggle novel from an old author who refuses to publish the next part. How's your summer reading going? -Harry"
There, that should satisfy her curiosity without raising too many alarms. Though knowing Hermione, she'd probably question which novel he had read that had information on this so called 'Erdtree Healing.'
"Here you go, girl," he tied the letter to Hedwig's leg. "Take this to Hermione, but no rush. And try not to look too smug when she starts frantically searching through books, alright?"
Hedwig gave him a look that clearly said she would look exactly as smug as she pleased, thank you very much, before taking off through the window.
Alone now, Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, looking at his palm. "Wonder if I can do that light thing again without Melina here..."
He closed his eyes, trying to remember how it felt in the field. "Let it come naturally," he muttered, recalling Melina's words. "Don't force it, just... invite it."
The first few minutes brought nothing but frustration and an itchy nose. But then, just as he was about to give up, he felt it - that warm, ancient sensation, like sunlight in his veins.
"Come on," he whispered, holding the feeling. The strange words formed in his mind again, and this time he let them flow naturally, not trying to understand or control them.
A familiar warmth bloomed in his palm, and when he opened his eyes, there it was - a small sphere of golden light, hovering just above his skin.
"Brilliant!" he grinned, then quickly focused on maintaining it. The light pulsed gently, seeming to respond to his heartbeat.
"Now what?" he wondered aloud, watching the light dance above his hand. "Don't suppose you can do anything useful yet?"
As if in response, the light flickered and went out.
"Right," Harry sighed. "Baby steps, I guess. Though it would be nice if you could at least do something more impressive than being a fancy torch."
He spent the next hour practicing, managing to create the light more quickly each time, though it still refused to do anything but hover and glow. By the time the sun started to set, he was tired but satisfied with his progress.
"Better than nothing," he told himself, flopping back on his bed. "Though I really hope Melina teaches me something more combat-oriented soon. Can't exactly defeat assassins by making pretty lights at them."
His thoughts drifted to Stormveil Castle and its disturbing resident. "Then again, maybe I should master the basics before worrying about fighting people with too many limbs."
A cool evening breeze drifted through his window, carrying the normal sounds of Privet Drive - lawn mowers, children playing, cars passing. It all seemed so ordinary, so disconnected from the strange world he'd visited.
"Two worlds," he mused, holding up his ring to catch the last rays of sunlight. "As if one wasn't complicated enough."
The ring seemed to warm slightly at his touch, and Harry wondered if Melina could sense when he was thinking about her world. There was still so much he didn't understand - about the ring, about grace, about the connection between the worlds.
"At least it's never boring," he yawned, feeling the day's training catch up with him. "Though I suppose I should be careful what I wish for. Knowing my luck, the next thing I'll learn is that Voldemort's got some sort of cosmic horror living in his head along with everything else."
He chuckled at his own joke, unaware of how uncomfortably close to the truth he might be.
"There's got to be more to you than just glowing," he muttered, reaching out with his other hand to touch it.
The moment his finger made contact, something unexpected happened - the sphere shrank slightly as two tiny orbs of light broke away, dancing on his fingertips like miniature stars.
"Now that's interesting," he breathed, carefully moving his fingers. The tiny lights followed his movement, staying perfectly balanced on his fingertips. "Let's see what else you can do."
With careful concentration, Harry managed to split the main sphere into more fragments, distributing them across his fingers until ten small orbs of light decorated his hands like glowing balls.
"Brilliant," he grinned, then focused on bringing them back together. The lights responded instantly, merging back into a single sphere with fluid grace. "So you can split and merge. What else?"
The next two hours were filled with experimentation. Harry discovered he could toss the light between his hands like a golden tennis ball, each catch sending warm tingles through his palms. When he tried directing the smaller orbs upward, they hovered obediently above his head, forming patterns before flickering out like dying fireflies.
"Getting better," he encouraged himself, forming another set of ten small lights. With careful mental nudging, he arranged them in a perfect circle above his head, like a miniature crown of stars. "Though I still don't see how this helps with fighting assassins. Unless they're afraid of pretty light shows."
He was about to give up and call Melina when movement caught his eye. A spider - one of the larger ones that occasionally invaded Privet Drive - was making its way across his ceiling. It was nearly the size of his palm, its legs moving across the ceiling.
The sight instantly transported Harry back to his second year - the Forbidden Forest, Aragog's children descending from the trees, their massive forms blocking out the moonlight...
In that moment of instinctive fear and memory, the lights above his head responded. Before Harry could blink, all ten orbs shot toward the spider like golden bullets, striking it with precise, devastating force. The spider dropped to the floor, completely still.
"Bloody hell," Harry whispered, staring at the fallen arachnid. He cautiously approached it, prodding it with his wand. It was definitely dead - its legs curled inward, small burns marking where the lights had struck.
"So you can attack," he mused, looking at his hands where new spheres of light were already forming. "When I was thinking about danger, you... protected me?"
The lights pulsed gently, as if in confirmation.
"Wish I'd known about this in the Chamber of Secrets," Harry muttered, experimenting with forming more lights. "Though I suppose a basilisk might need more than just a few light pellets."
He spent the next hour practicing this new aspect of his ability, finding he could control the speed and intensity of the lights when launching them. Small targets around his room - bits of paper, old quills, even a particularly annoying fly - all fell victim to his improving aim.
"It responds to intent," he realized, watching the lights dance around his fingers. "When I was just playing with them, they were harmless. But when I felt threatened..."
The implications were both exciting and slightly worrying. What else could this power do? And more importantly, what might it do if he lost control of it?
"Definitely need to talk to Melina about this," he decided, letting the current set of lights fade away. "Though she'll probably just say something cryptic about grace responding to the heart's true nature, or something equally mysterious."
He flopped back on his bed, mind racing with possibilities. "Still, it's progress. From glowing ball to deadly light pellets in one day. Not bad for someone who didn't even know about grace a few days ago."
The ring on his finger seemed to warm in agreement, and Harry wondered if Melina had any idea what he'd discovered. Did she use grace the same way? Or was this something unique to him, shaped by his own experiences and needs?
"One more try," he told himself, sitting up. This time, he formed twenty small lights, arranging them in complex patterns above his head. They moved like a constellation come to life, responding to his slightest thought.
"Now that's proper magic," he grinned, watching them dance. "No incantations, no wand waving, just..." he paused, searching for the right word, "intention."
The lights swirled faster, growing brighter with his enthusiasm. Harry quickly calmed them before they could start shooting around his room like golden snitches.
"Right, enough practice for today," he decided, letting the lights fade. "Don't want to exhaust myself in case any more assassins or oversized spiders show up."
He glanced at the dead spider still lying on his floor. "Should probably clean that up before Aunt Petunia has a fit. Though it might be worth leaving it just to hear her scream about mysterious burn marks."
As he disposed of the evidence of his practice, Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. For once, he was learning something on his own terms, without the pressure of classes or the expectations of the wizarding world.
"Wonder what Hermione would make of all this," he mused, settling back on his bed. "Probably demand to know the exact magical theory behind it all. 'But Harry,'" he mimicked her voice, "'there must be some logical explanation for how the grace particles interact with your magical core!'"
The thought made him chuckle, but it also reminded him of how isolated this experience was. No one in his world could really understand what he was dealing with - this power that seemed to bridge the gap between two realities.
"At least I've got Melina," he muttered under his breath. "Even if she does speak in riddles half the time."
Later
"I think it's time I call her here." The familiar warmth of his ring prompted Harry to call Melina, and she appeared with less formality than before, her single visible eye crinkling with what seemed like a smile.
"Hello, Harry," she said warmly, settling onto his bed as if they were old friends meeting for tea. "You're getting better at calling me."
"Thanks," Harry smiled back, surprised but pleased by her more relaxed demeanor. "I've been practicing with the grace, actually. But first - I've been wondering... what do you do when you're not here?"
Melina's expression turned thoughtful. "I watch," she said, her voice taking on that familiar mysterious tone. "Through the Sites of Grace, I observe the lands between. It's crucial to keep track of the Demigods, to know if any fall... and to gather information about everything else that transpires."
Harry noticed a slight change in her tone at 'everything else' but decided not to press. Instead, he nodded, thinking of how useful such surveillance would be for the Wizarding World against Voldemort.
Before he could dwell on it, Melina extended her hand. "Would you like to see something interesting?"
Harry took her hand without hesitation this time, and the familiar golden light enveloped them. When it faded, they were standing in a different part of Limgrave. The air was crisp and clear, with rolling hills stretching out before them. A modest church stood in the distance, its architecture both familiar and alien to Harry's eyes. Further beyond, Stormveil Castle loomed against the horizon like a brooding giant.
But what caught Harry's attention was the knight.
"I know gold is valuable, but why would people use it so much," he breathed, staring at the imposing figure patrolling before the church. The knight sat atop a massive armored horse, both rider and mount encased in gleaming golden armor that seemed to catch every ray of sunlight. A great shield that looked heavy enough to crush a car hung from one arm, while the other held an enormous golden axe.
"A Tree Sentinel," Melina explained, watching the knight's methodical patrol. "They serve as guardians of the Erdtree."
Harry frowned, looking around at the relatively modest surroundings. "Bit far from the Erdtree, isn't it? If he is a protecter of the Erdtree then what is he doing here? Shouldn't he be near the Erdtree and protect it, instead of being so far away?"
Melina nodded. "But look there." She pointed to a structure perched atop a small cliff opposite the church. "That building is where many Tarnished first emerge into the Lands Between. The Tree Sentinel kills any he sees."
"Cheerful welcome committee," Harry muttered, watching the golden knight's relentless patrol. "Though I suppose that's the point, isn't it? Keep the Tarnished from getting too far?"
"Perhaps," Melina's tone suggested she wasn't entirely convinced. "I suspect there's another reason for this particular sentinel's placement, though I haven't confirmed it yet."
Harry studied the scene more carefully. The church, the building where Tarnished emerged, the vigilant knight... "It's like having Filch patrol outside the Gryffindor Tower," he mused. "You don't post your best guard unless you're protecting something specific."
"An apt comparison," Melina seemed pleased with his observation. "The Church of Elleh holds its own secrets, though most pass through without noticing."
The Tree Sentinel's armor caught the sun again, sending a flash of golden light across the landscape. Harry couldn't help but compare it to the small lights he'd been practicing with earlier.
"Could I..." he hesitated, then pressed on. "Could I take on something like that? With grace, I mean?"
Melina's expression turned serious. "Eventually, perhaps. But not yet. The Tree Sentinels have served since the age of the Erdtree began. They are formidable opponents, even for experienced Tarnished."
"Right," Harry watched as the knight's axe swung in a casual arc that probably could have cleaved him in half. "Probably best to start smaller. Though I did manage to kill a spider earlier with grace."
Melina's eye widened slightly. "You've been experimenting?"
Harry explained about his discovery with the light spheres, their ability to split and reform, and finally their unexpected deadly potential. As he spoke, he demonstrated, creating a circle of small lights above his head.
"Interesting," Melina watched the display with evident curiosity. "Most Tarnished take longer to discover such applications of grace. Though perhaps your experience with magic has given you an advantage."
"Or maybe I just have good motivation," Harry replied, thinking of assassins and grafted warriors. "Speaking of which..." he gestured toward the Tree Sentinel. "What exactly is in that church that needs such intense protection?"
Melina's mysterious smile returned. "That's something you'll have to discover for yourself, when you're ready. Though I suspect it may have something to do with why certain powers are taking such an interest in your world."
"Of course it does," Harry sighed, letting his lights fade away. "Because nothing can ever be simple, can it?"
"Would you want it to be?" Melina asked, and Harry could have sworn there was amusement in her voice.
"Suppose not," he admitted, watching as the Tree Sentinel completed another circuit of his eternal patrol. "Though I wouldn't mind if things made a bit more sense occasionally."
The golden knight passed close enough for Harry to hear the heavy clank of his armor, the steady breathing of his massive mount. There was something both beautiful and terrifying about the warrior's dedication, still guarding his post after what must have been centuries.
"We should return," Melina said softly. "You've made good progress with grace, but you'll need rest to continue practicing."
Harry nodded, taking a last look at the scene before him - the ancient church, the clifftop building where Tarnished began their journeys, and the tireless guardian in his gleaming armor.
As the golden light began to envelop them again, Harry caught a glimpse of something moving near the church - a figure in dark robes, watching from the shadows. But before he could focus on it, the scene dissolved, and he was back in his bedroom at Privet Drive.
"Practice your control," Melina advised as she prepared to depart. "But be cautious. Grace responds to intention, and intention can be... complicated."
"Story of my life," Harry replied wryly. "Why did you really show me the Tree Sentinel?" Harry asked. "There's more to it than just showing me what they are, isn't there?"
Melina's eye glinted with approval at his perception. "Indeed. Each Tree Sentinel carries an Erdtree Seal - a powerful catalyst for channeling grace. With it, you could perform more advanced incantations."
Harry's eyes widened as the implications sank in. "So I'd need to..." he trailed off, looking at her uncertainly.
"Fight him and claim it, yes," Melina finished. "Though not yet. You'll need considerable preparation first."
"Right," Harry said uncertaintly. "Because getting crushed by a golden axe wouldn't do anyone any good. Speaking of preparation..." He held out his hand, creating a sphere of light. "Want to see what I've learned?"
"Please," Melina leaned forward with interest.
Harry demonstrated his newfound control, splitting the sphere into twelve smaller orbs that danced around him in complex patterns. "And then there's this," he added, conjuring a target from some loose parchment and sending the lights striking against it with precise hits.
"Impressive," Melina nodded. "You've grasped the basic principles quickly. Perhaps it's time you learned something more sophisticated." She stood, positioning herself in the center of the room. "Watch carefully."
Her hands began moving in elegant patterns that reminded Harry of conducting music. Strange words flowed from her lips in that ancient language he'd heard before, and a miniature golden tree materialized between her palms, bathing the room in warm, healing light before fading away.
"This is the healing incantation I used when we first met," she explained. "It requires no catalyst, only proper form and understanding. Would you like to try?"
"Definitely," Harry stood eagerly, attempting to mirror her hand positions. "Er... what were those words again?"
Melina repeated the incantation slowly, correcting Harry's hand movements. "The gesture channels the grace, while the words give it purpose. They must work in harmony."
Harry's first attempt produced only a few sparks. His second didn't even manage that. "This is harder than it looks," he muttered after his fifth failure.
"You're trying to force it," Melina observed. "Grace isn't like your world's magic. It flows from within, from your connection to greater powers. Try to feel that connection."
After fifteen more minutes of frustrated attempts, Harry was ready to give up. "Maybe I should stick to light balls."
"You're getting closer," Melina encouraged. "Look - your movements are more fluid now. Try once more, but this time, think of healing, of growth, of life itself."
Harry took a deep breath, centering himself. He thought of how it felt when Fawkes had healed him in the Chamber of Secrets, of the way Hogwarts itself seemed to pulse with living magic. His hands moved through the patterns as the strange words fell from his lips, and suddenly - there it was.
A small golden tree, barely half the size of Melina's, sparkled between his palms for a brief moment before dissolving.
"I did it!" Harry exclaimed, grinning broadly. "It wasn't as big as yours, but-"
"Size matters less than successful manifestation," Melina assured him, looking pleased. "You've managed a healing incantation on your first day of practice. That's no small achievement."
"Thanks, Melina," Harry said sincerely. "For teaching me, I mean. And for being patient."
"You're a good student when properly motivated," she replied with a hint of amusement. "Though perhaps we should end today's lesson before your aunt investigates all the golden light coming from your room."
Harry glanced guiltily at the gap under his door. "Good point. Same time tomorrow?"
"If you wish," Melina nodded. "Practice the healing incantation, but don't exhaust yourself. Grace requires both physical and spiritual energy."
"Right, no practicing until I pass out," Harry agreed. "Got it."
As Melina prepared to depart, she paused. "Harry? That Tree Sentinel... don't attempt to face him until I say you're ready. Promise me."
"I promise," Harry said, though he couldn't help adding, "But when I am ready..."
"Then I'll help you prepare properly," she finished. "After all, we can't have the Boy Who Lived becoming the Boy Who Got Flattened By A Golden Horse, can we?"
Harry laughed, surprised by her joke. "Definitely not. The Daily Prophet would have a field day with that one."
With a final smile, Melina vanished, leaving Harry to practice his new incantation.
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