Harry Potter: The Revenant

Harry stood at the imposing door of 177A Bleecker Street, staring at the weathered wood that seemed to hum with an almost otherworldly energy. His heart thrummed with anticipation. He had accepted the Ancient One's offer, and now here he was, on the cusp of a new chapter in his life. The weight of it was palpable, but he didn't let it show. He wasn't some scared kid anymore—he was a warrior, a weapon, and now, hopefully, a student of the Mystical Arts.

He raised his hand, knocked three times with the softest tap of his claws, the sound echoing in the quiet street. He straightened up, wiping the faint bead of sweat from his brow. Was he ready for this?

The door creaked open with a quiet groan, and standing on the threshold was a man in a dark robe, his expression as calm and composed as the stillness of the sanctum itself.

Wong.

Harry studied him for a moment, instantly sizing up the man. He could feel the power radiating off of him—this wasn't just some humble servant, but a practitioner in his own right, someone who had a connection to something far greater than either of them could fully understand. But Harry wasn't intimidated. Not anymore.

"Are you Harry Potter?" Wong asked, his voice smooth and measured, yet carrying an undertone of quiet curiosity.

"Yeah," Harry replied, offering a half-smile. "That's me. The one and only." He gestured with his hand, trying to keep things light, despite the swirling intensity of the moment. "Guess I'm the 'new student' around here?"

Wong studied him for a brief moment, and for the first time, a faint glimmer of amusement appeared in his otherwise stoic expression. "So you're the one who accepted the Ancient One's offer. Quite bold. I'm Wong. You can come in."

As Harry stepped past him into the Sanctum, he couldn't help but notice the subtle yet overwhelming presence of magic here. It was like stepping into a different world entirely—a world where the air practically crackled with possibilities.

Wong closed the door behind him, his eyes scanning Harry with a sense of quiet assessment. "I trust you've been briefed on the basics. But let me warn you—this is not a typical school. The Ancient One is… unconventional, and her teachings will challenge you in ways you might not expect."

Harry gave a nonchalant shrug, though there was a glint of resolve in his eyes. "I've faced worse. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

Wong's eyebrow arched slightly, as though he were assessing the younger man. "That's what they all say." His tone was dry, but there was a hint of approval beneath the surface. "Come. The Ancient One will want to see you."

Harry followed Wong through the Sanctum, trying to take it all in—the shifting, floating books, the strange artifacts scattered about, and the faint echo of distant voices, as though the very walls were alive with ancient secrets. The place was exactly as he had imagined it: mysterious, powerful, and brimming with untold knowledge.

"So, Wong," Harry said, breaking the silence between them, "how long have you been working with the Ancient One?"

"Longer than you might think," Wong replied simply, his pace never faltering. "Time moves differently for those who wield magic. We are all part of the same fabric, but not all of us weave in the same pattern."

Harry frowned slightly. "That's... cryptic. You don't talk like other people I know."

Wong glanced at him with a slight smile. "I'm not other people."

There was no further explanation. It was clear that Wong was someone who knew how to stay cryptic when the situation called for it. Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the simplicity of it.

"Fair enough," Harry muttered, his gaze shifting toward the large wooden doors at the far end of the hallway. "I suppose we're almost there."

"Indeed." Wong stopped in front of the doors and turned toward Harry. "The Ancient One will be waiting for you. Whatever happens in that room, be ready to face your own truths. She will not give you answers easily, but she will provide the tools to find them."

Harry nodded, steeling himself. This was it. No turning back now.

Wong opened the door with a single motion, and Harry stepped through, his eyes immediately finding the Ancient One, standing at the center of the room, her expression as serene as ever.

"Harry Potter," the Ancient One said, her voice a soft melody that seemed to echo through his very bones. "I see you've made the choice. Welcome to Kamar-Taj."

Harry stood a little taller, his chest swelling with pride, yet there was no mistaking the flicker of uncertainty in his gaze. "I'm ready," he said, more to himself than to anyone else.

The Ancient One smiled faintly, a knowing glimmer in her eyes. "We shall see, won't we?"

And just like that, Harry's new journey had truly begun.

—

Harry followed the Ancient One as she led him through the portals, each one a shimmering doorway that seemed to bend space and time. One moment, they were in the heart of New York City, the next, they stepped out into the serene mountains of Nepal. The air was thick with the scent of pine and incense, the sounds of the distant wind and the faint hum of magic filling his ears.

"Wait a second," Harry said, looking around in awe as they stood on the stone walkway leading through the grand gates of Kamar-Taj. "We just… we just traveled from New York to Nepal? Through this?" He looked back at the portal, which was now a simple glowing ripple in the air. "How did we—?"

The Ancient One smiled, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Through the power of the mystic arts. This is but one of the abilities you will come to learn. The barriers between locations are far more fluid than you may realize. This form of teleportation is far more convenient than Apparition, don't you think?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Definitely more convenient. I never thought teleportation could feel so… effortless. When can I start learning that?" He grinned, eager to master it.

The Ancient One chuckled. "Patience, young one. All in time. But first, there is much to see, and many who will help you along your journey."

As they walked deeper into the ancient complex, Harry couldn't help but marvel at the architecture. The stone walls were carved with intricate symbols, many of which he could not decipher, but they resonated with an ancient, powerful magic. The air was thick with the weight of centuries of knowledge, and the sound of soft footsteps echoed in the corridors. At the end of the hall, the Ancient One paused before opening another portal with a flick of her hand.

"Welcome to your first stop," she said with a quiet reverence, stepping aside so Harry could enter first.

Harry stepped through and found himself in what seemed to be a vast, open courtyard. It was peaceful here, with patches of sunlight filtering through the trees, and a small stone circle in the center. Standing within the circle were two men, both in meditation.

"This is where we begin your training," the Ancient One said, guiding Harry closer. "This is Mordo and Kaecillius. Mordo will be in charge of your physical training, ensuring that you are capable of mastering both the physical and mental demands of the mystical arts."

Mordo, a tall man with sharp features and a stern expression, opened his eyes and gave Harry a nod. "A pleasure," he said, his voice gruff but measured. "We will push your limits, Potter. You will need strength, endurance, and control over your body if you are to survive what comes next."

Harry gave a small smirk. "I've faced some pretty tough challenges, but I'm up for it."

Mordo gave a slight grin, the faintest flicker of approval passing through his gaze. "Good. We will see how well you handle what lies ahead."

The Ancient One nodded. "And Kaecillius," she gestured to the other man, a taller figure with piercing eyes and a calm demeanor. "He will guide you through the mental challenges you will face as you dive deeper into the mystic arts."

Kaecillius gave Harry a slight bow, his smile warm but mysterious. "The mind is the greatest weapon you have, young wizard. Understanding the true nature of the universe is a delicate and difficult process. But it is one that will open doors you cannot yet imagine."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like it's going to be a lot of work."

"It will be," Kaecillius confirmed, his smile turning slightly more serious. "But it will be worth it. And the mental discipline you gain will be vital as you learn to wield magic."

The Ancient One then led Harry further into the complex, her footsteps silent on the stone floors. As they walked, she spoke of the Library, which Harry had heard murmurs of since his arrival. "There is one other person who will be crucial to your learning," she said as they neared a large stone door. "Wong, the Librarian. He will be of great help to you in your studies, for there is a vast amount of knowledge here, and not all of it is easily accessible. Wong will grant you access to the tomes and scrolls you need."

As the door opened, Harry saw Wong standing inside, his arms folded, watching them approach with a quiet intensity. "Ah, Potter," Wong greeted him with a nod, his expression unreadable. "You've arrived. I trust the tour has been… enlightening?"

Harry, a little taken aback, nodded. "Yeah, it's... more than I expected. And it's just one stop? There's a lot of magic here."

Wong gave a small smile. "This place is more than just a structure, Potter. It is an ever-changing place, tied to the very fabric of reality. But, as the Librarian, my role is simple: I guard the knowledge within these walls. Should you seek any book or scroll, I will ensure you have access, provided it is for your studies. But," Wong added with a stern glance, "I ask that you treat the Library with respect. Return the books when you are done."

Harry raised an eyebrow, giving Wong an amused look. "Return policy, huh?"

"Indeed," Wong said, his tone dry. "The books here are not meant to be kept for personal use. Remember that."

"Got it," Harry said with a grin, already thinking about the many books he would likely end up browsing. "I'll be sure to return them... eventually."

The Ancient One gave a soft chuckle, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "There is much for you to learn, Harry Potter. But remember—patience and discipline will be your greatest allies."

Harry nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity. "Alright. Let's get started."

"Indeed," Wong said with a nod. "The Library awaits, and we have much to do. Follow me."

As they left the room, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that his life was about to change in ways he couldn't even begin to understand. But if there was one thing Harry was certain of, it was that he was ready for whatever came next.

—

Later that evening, after Harry had been shown to his quarters, which were sparsely furnished but comfortable enough for his needs, the Ancient One called for Mordo and Kaecillius. They met her in a quiet room at the far end of Kamar-Taj, a place where the weight of the conversation seemed to hang in the air, heavy with anticipation.

Mordo entered first, his demeanor as stoic and focused as ever. Kaecillius followed closely behind, a bit more relaxed, though still bearing the kind of intensity that seemed to radiate from those who walked the mystic path. They both took their seats, waiting for the Ancient One to speak.

"Is he ready?" Mordo asked, his voice low but steady, his eyes focused on the Ancient One. "The boy—he appears strong, but he is... different."

The Ancient One, seated at the head of the room, closed her eyes for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully. When she opened them again, her gaze was piercing, and there was a sadness there that both men noticed but did not dare question.

"He is different indeed, Mordo," she said softly, her voice carrying an undertone of grave importance. "And his past is far darker than either of you could imagine."

Kaecillius raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "What do you mean?"

The Ancient One took a deep breath, and with a slow, deliberate motion, she began to explain the truth of Harry Potter's origins.

"The boy, Harry, is not what he seems." Her voice was calm, but there was a weight to it, as though she were burdened with the knowledge she was about to share. "He is, in truth, six years old—though his appearance may suggest otherwise."

Both Mordo and Kaecillius exchanged a quick glance. Mordo's brows furrowed, a flicker of confusion passing across his face. "Six?" he repeated. "But he... He is taller than both of us. Stronger, too."

The Ancient One nodded, a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "He was stolen from his true family at a young age, long before the world knew of him. Taken by a shadowy group known as Hydra."

"Hydra?" Kaecillius echoed, his tone laden with disbelief. "The same Hydra that was known for its experiments on soldiers?"

"Yes," the Ancient One confirmed. "They injected Harry with the Super Soldier Serum, accelerating his aging process to make him appear as an adult. It was part of their twisted design to create a perfect weapon. But their efforts didn't end there. They then spliced his DNA with that of another subject—someone referred to as 'Weapon X.'"

Mordo and Kaecillius both stiffened at the mention of Weapon X. They had heard whispers about the existence of such a being, but it was always shrouded in mystery and fear. Weapon X was said to be a living weapon, a being whose very existence was a threat to the world. But to hear that Harry had been tied to this project—transformed into something more, something unnatural—was disconcerting.

"And then," the Ancient One continued, "Hydra went even further, coating his entire skeleton in Vibranium. It is this that gives him the claws, the enhanced healing factor, and the ability to absorb kinetic energy. His entire body is a living conduit for power, a vessel for both magic and physical strength."

She paused, her gaze now distant as though she were seeing the child she had come to know through a different lens. "His skeleton absorbs any and all kinetic energy—whether it's from his movements, physical hits, or even when he lands from great heights. That energy is constantly fed into his magical core, which can then be used to cast spells—through his claws or his wand—like a traditional wizard would."

Mordo's hands clenched into fists, and Kaecillius's expression grew darker, his mind racing to comprehend the implications of this boy's existence. The Ancient One's voice softened, tinged with sympathy.

"He may look like an adult, but he is, in reality, a child—one whose innocence has been taken from him. He was raised as a weapon, not allowed to experience the simple joys of childhood, and now he is left to navigate a world he does not fully understand. The challenge before him is not just to master the mystical arts—it is to regain some semblance of who he was before Hydra twisted him into their creation."

Kaecillius, ever the philosopher, leaned forward. "So, he's not only physically powerful—he's also carrying the weight of what they made him into. The boy doesn't just need to learn magic. He needs to learn how to heal from what was done to him."

"Precisely," the Ancient One said. "He is a weapon, yes, but he is also a soul—one who, deep down, still yearns for freedom, for understanding, for peace. We must be careful in how we approach his training. He will need guidance, and we cannot let him be consumed by the darkness of his past."

Mordo sat back, processing what he had just learned. He had always believed in discipline, in the idea of shaping a person through structure and rigorous training. But this—this was a different matter altogether.

"Then, we must proceed cautiously," he said, his voice low but resolute. "I will teach him to control his physical strength, but we must ensure that his body does not overpower his mind. If he is to harness the full potential of the mystical arts, he must learn to wield his strength with wisdom, not just power."

Kaecillius nodded in agreement. "And I will guide him in understanding the deeper aspects of magic—the ones that go beyond brute force. His mind will be the key to unlocking everything."

The Ancient One gave a single nod of approval, her eyes filled with determination. "I trust you both to help him on this path. But remember, Harry is not just a weapon. He is a child who has been robbed of his innocence, and it will take time for him to understand that he is more than what Hydra made him."

With that, the three of them fell into a thoughtful silence, each contemplating the weight of the responsibility that lay ahead. Harry Potter was no ordinary student. He was a child forged into a weapon—one that could either be the world's greatest protector or its greatest threat. And it was up to them to decide which path he would walk.

—

The courtyard of Kamar-Taj was alive with the hum of mystical energy as Harry stood across from Mordo, the morning sun casting long shadows of the ancient walls around them. Harry stretched his arms, his Vibranium claws sliding out with a metallic snikt. His expression was one of calm readiness, though his eyes sparkled with anticipation. Mordo, in contrast, stood with a staff in hand, his posture straight, his expression unreadable, but there was a sharpness to his gaze.

"This is not about winning or losing, Harry," Mordo said as he shifted into a combat stance. "This is about understanding the limits of your strength, your agility, and your focus. Show me what you've learned—nothing more, nothing less."

Harry gave him a small, confident smirk. "Fair warning, Mordo—I've been taught by some of the best. Don't hold back, or I might embarrass you in front of the boss."

Mordo raised an eyebrow at the cheeky remark but said nothing. He simply motioned with his staff for Harry to come at him.

Watching from a shaded balcony above, the Ancient One and Kaecillius observed in silence. Kaecillius crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Harry. "He seems confident."

"Confidence can be a mask," the Ancient One replied serenely, her hands folded in front of her. "But it can also be a foundation. Let us see what lies beneath his bravado."

---

Harry moved first, closing the gap between them in a heartbeat. His speed caught Mordo off guard—not because Mordo hadn't expected it, but because it was rare to see someone move with such fluid precision. Harry's claws slashed horizontally, forcing Mordo to sidestep and spin his staff to deflect the strike.

The clang of Vibranium meeting enchanted wood echoed across the courtyard.

"Not bad," Mordo said as he twisted his staff, locking Harry's claws momentarily before shoving him back. "But predictable."

Harry grinned, landing lightly on his feet. "That was just the warm-up."

Without missing a beat, Harry launched himself into a series of rapid attacks, blending the martial techniques he'd learned from Natasha and Bucky with his own raw power. His movements were relentless but calculated, forcing Mordo to stay on the defensive.

Mordo blocked a high slash and ducked under a sweeping strike aimed at his legs. Harry's claws carved faint trails in the stone floor as he pivoted into another attack. Mordo leapt back, creating distance between them.

"Impressive," Mordo admitted, his voice steady despite the exertion. "You fight with the precision of a soldier, but your magic lacks discipline."

Harry didn't respond immediately. Instead, he feinted left, forcing Mordo to shift his staff, before suddenly springing into the air. As he came down, he slammed his claws into the ground, releasing a kinetic shockwave that rippled outward.

The explosion of energy caught Mordo off guard, forcing him to leap back as the ground beneath him cracked and splintered. Mordo's expression shifted to one of approval mixed with caution. "You channel your power instinctively, but you waste too much energy."

From the balcony, Kaecillius leaned forward, intrigued. "He's not just relying on brute force. Look at his footwork—it's deliberate, almost rehearsed."

The Ancient One nodded, her gaze never leaving Harry. "He has been trained well, but not fully. There is untapped potential in him—a rawness that needs refinement."

---

Back in the courtyard, Harry wiped a bead of sweat from his brow but kept his claws extended. "You're not bad with that stick," he quipped, circling Mordo. "But let's see how you handle this."

Harry raised his hand, and the air around his claws shimmered with magical energy. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a bolt of magic arcing toward Mordo. Mordo spun his staff, creating a barrier that absorbed the attack, but the force behind it pushed him back several steps.

"You mix magic and combat fluidly," Mordo said, his tone edged with grudging respect. "But do not think for a moment that you've mastered either."

Mordo counterattacked, his staff spinning in a blur as he advanced on Harry. The strikes came fast and precise, forcing Harry to rely on his agility to dodge and parry. Each clash of staff against claws sent sparks flying, the sound reverberating through the courtyard.

Mordo aimed a low sweep at Harry's legs, but Harry leapt over it, flipping mid-air. As he descended, he reached out with his hand and caught Mordo's staff mid-swing. The two locked eyes, both testing the other's strength. With a grunt, Harry wrenched the staff from Mordo's grip and tossed it aside.

"Well," Harry said, breathing hard but grinning, "looks like I win round one."

Mordo smirked faintly, stepping back as he raised his hand. A portal opened beside him, and another staff floated through. He caught it effortlessly. "Round one was merely the introduction."

From above, Kaecillius couldn't help but let out a low chuckle. "This boy might just surprise us all."

The Ancient One remained silent, her gaze contemplative. "He is more than we anticipated," she said softly. "But his true challenges lie ahead—not here, but within himself."

As the spar continued, it became clear to everyone watching that Harry Potter was not just a promising student. He was a force of nature, one that would either shape the future of the Mystical Arts—or shatter it.

—

As the sparring session concluded, Mordo stepped back, sweat glistening on his brow. He gave Harry a curt nod, a mix of approval and challenge in his gaze. "You've proven you have the strength and reflexes, but brute force and agility will only take you so far. Now comes the harder part—discipline."

Before Harry could respond, Kaecillius walked forward, his expression calm but intense, his sharp features lit by the sunlight streaming into the courtyard. He looked every bit the seasoned practitioner of the Mystic Arts, his movements deliberate and precise. The Ancient One remained on the balcony, her gaze following the transition with quiet interest.

"Discipline," Kaecillius began, addressing Harry with a tone both firm and measured, "isn't just about how you move your body or wield your power. It's about mastering your mind. Your thoughts, your emotions, your will—they are your most potent tools, but also your most dangerous adversaries."

Harry arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Sounds like you're about to teach me to meditate. Spoiler alert—I'm not great at sitting still."

Kaecillius allowed a small smirk to break through his otherwise stoic demeanor. "Meditation is part of it, yes. But this isn't about sitting in a quiet room and humming. It's about sharpening your mind until it's as strong and unyielding as your Vibranium skeleton."

He gestured toward a shaded corner of the courtyard, where a small circle of cushions and incense burners had been arranged. A delicate breeze carried the faint scent of sandalwood and sage. "We'll start here."

Harry glanced at the setup, then back at Kaecillius. "Let me guess. I sit cross-legged, try not to think about food, and you throw cryptic wisdom at me?"

Kaecillius's smirk deepened. "Something like that. Except, if you fail, you'll be battling the illusions your own mind creates until you break through—or break down."

Harry blinked, his cocky grin faltering slightly. "Right. No pressure then."

Kaecillius motioned for Harry to sit, and as he did, the older man began to pace around him, his voice even and commanding. "Close your eyes. Breathe. Your breath is the anchor that keeps you from drifting in the chaos of your thoughts. Focus on it."

Harry did as instructed, though his body remained tense. His breaths were steady, but his mind raced with a thousand distractions—memories of Hydra's experiments, flashes of Natasha's teasing smile, the kinetic thrill of sparring with Mordo.

"Your mind is like a storm," Kaecillius said, as if sensing Harry's inner turmoil. "Chaos, noise, movement. But beneath every storm is a stillness, a calm. Find it."

The courtyard around Harry began to fade as his focus deepened. For a moment, he felt the swirling cacophony of his thoughts start to settle, like sediment sinking in clear water. But just as he was beginning to relax, a sharp voice cut through the quiet.

"Focus, Potter," Kaecillius snapped. "I can see you drifting. You're not here to daydream."

Harry's eyes snapped open, glaring at Kaecillius. "You're not exactly making this easy."

"It's not supposed to be easy," Kaecillius replied. "Discipline is forged through adversity, not comfort. Again."

Harry closed his eyes once more, his jaw tightening. This time, he pushed harder, forcing himself to focus. Slowly, the noise in his mind began to quiet, replaced by a strange sense of clarity. He felt a faint pulse within himself, like a distant heartbeat. It wasn't his own—it was something deeper, something connected to his magic.

Kaecillius watched intently, noting the subtle change in Harry's posture and breathing. "Good," he said softly. "Now, hold onto that stillness. Let it grow."

For several minutes, Harry remained in that state, his mind steady, his body relaxed. But then, without warning, he felt a sharp jolt, as if the ground beneath him had shifted. His eyes flew open to see the courtyard around him dissolving into a swirling void of colors and shapes.

"What the—?" Harry began, but Kaecillius's voice cut him off.

"Your mind is testing you," Kaecillius said, his tone calm but commanding. "You've opened a door, and now you must face what lies beyond it."

In the swirling void, Harry saw flashes of Hydra's lab, the cold steel tables, the faces of the scientists who had experimented on him. He saw Natasha, her expression unreadable, and Steve, his shield raised in defense. He saw Grindelwald, his eyes gleaming with power and ambition.

The images came faster and faster, threatening to overwhelm him. But then Kaecillius's voice echoed in his mind: "Breathe. Focus. Find the stillness."

Harry gritted his teeth, closing his eyes against the onslaught. He reached for the calm he had found earlier, the faint pulse of magic within him. Slowly, the chaos began to recede, the void shrinking until it was nothing but darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the courtyard. Kaecillius stood before him, arms crossed, a hint of approval in his expression.

"You're stronger than I expected," Kaecillius said. "But strength alone won't carry you through the challenges ahead. Remember this feeling—the stillness. It will be your greatest weapon."

Harry stood, his legs a little shaky but his resolve unbroken. "That was... intense."

Kaecillius's smirk returned. "And that was just the first step. Welcome to the Mystical Arts, Potter."

From the balcony, the Ancient One watched the exchange with a faint smile. "He'll do well," she murmured to herself, though her tone carried a hint of caution. "If he can survive what lies ahead."

—

In the flickering candlelight of the Ancient One's chamber, Mordo and Kaecillius stood before her, their expressions thoughtful yet weighed with the burden of what lay ahead. The room was silent save for the faint rustle of the wind outside, the stillness amplifying the gravity of their conversation.

Mordo was the first to speak, his voice measured and deliberate. "The boy—Harry—he's unlike any student we've ever trained. His abilities alone set him apart, but his past…" Mordo hesitated, glancing at Kaecillius before continuing. "It's a volatile foundation. Hydra's experiments may have given him strength and speed, but they also left scars. Emotional ones. He hides it well, but the rage is there, buried deep."

Kaecillius nodded, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. "He's powerful, no doubt. The way he moved during our session today—instinctual, raw. He's been trained by some of the best in physical combat, and his magical aptitude is impressive for someone his age, especially given his unorthodox education. But that power is dangerous. Without proper discipline, it could consume him."

The Ancient One listened, her face calm but her eyes sharp and attentive. "You both see the potential in him," she said, her voice as serene as always. "But also the risk."

"Exactly," Kaecillius replied, stepping forward. "He's already stronger than most of the students here, physically and magically. But strength like that without control is a recipe for disaster. We need to approach his training carefully—teach him to temper his abilities before they define him."

Mordo nodded in agreement but added, "There's something else to consider. His core. It's not just magical—it's something more. The Vibranium in his skeleton constantly feeds energy into it, amplifying his power. That's an immense advantage, but it also makes him a target. If anyone were to discover what Hydra did to him…"

The Ancient One raised a hand, silencing Mordo gently. "I am aware of the dangers. That is why he is here. To learn, to grow, to protect himself—and perhaps, in time, to protect others."

Kaecillius frowned. "But how do we proceed? He's not like the others. The traditional methods won't work for someone like him."

The Ancient One stood and began to pace, her movements graceful yet purposeful. "We must tailor his training to his unique nature. Mordo, you will continue to push him physically, but not just in combat. Teach him restraint. His strength is a gift, but it must not become his crutch. Show him that true power lies not in what he can do, but in what he chooses not to do."

Mordo inclined his head. "Understood."

Turning to Kaecillius, the Ancient One said, "Your task is more challenging. His mind is a maze, a labyrinth of pain, anger, and determination. You must help him navigate it—guide him to the stillness within himself. If he cannot master his mind, he will never master the Mystic Arts."

Kaecillius exhaled, his expression serious. "I'll do my best. But he's not going to make it easy."

The Ancient One smiled faintly, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "The greatest students never do."

Kaecillius smirked despite himself. "True enough."

Finally, the Ancient One's tone grew more somber. "There is one more thing. Harry's destiny is not set in stone, but the threads of fate around him are… complicated. He has the potential to become a force for great good—or unimaginable destruction. How we guide him now will shape the path he takes."

Mordo and Kaecillius exchanged a glance, the weight of the Ancient One's words settling heavily on them.

"We'll do what we must," Mordo said firmly. "No matter how long it takes."

Kaecillius added, "And no matter how difficult he makes it."

The Ancient One nodded, her expression softening. "Good. Then let us begin. Harry Potter may be unlike any student we've trained, but he is also unlike any warrior the world has ever known. Together, we will help him find his way."

---

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