Discimer: I Don't Own Harry Potter

  A gust of February wind drifted through the den's entrance, stirring the lines of runic symbols Harry had painstakingly engraved on wooden sts hanging near the threshold. They caught the faint light of the morning sun, their shapes shimmering with residual magic. The weather outside the den remained cold, though not as fiercely frigid as it had been weeks before. Snow still covered the forest floor in thick drifts, but hints of gradual thaw teased the edges of every path, and the nights felt a fraction less icy.

  Harry stirred, blinking awake from a restful sleep. He found himself sandwiched between the familiar warmth of fur on every side. Taris was curled against his right hip, softly snoring, while Eriwen had draped a paw over his shoulder. Another pup—probably Corlys or Nythra—had their muzzle resting near his ankles, effectively pinning him. He smiled into the softness of their coats, recalling the whimsical "Group Snuggle" quests the system had granted him. Now, the pack's closeness felt as natural as breathing. It never failed to amaze him how thoroughly they had accepted him as one of their own, despite the stark differences in their shapes and levels of strength.

  In the weeks since the system's motherly sentience first awakened, he had grown used to its pyful greetings in the morning, the gentle nudge of silly side quests mixed with more serious challenges. Now, only a few days had passed since that shift, but everything felt at once familiar and freshly dynamic. The den itself bore testimony to that slow metamorphosis. Its walls were lined with thick, enchanted furs, each pinned in pce with carved bone hooks or woven cords. The floors were made of smoothed wooden pnks, meticulously cut and fitted by Harry's Woodworking skill, and yered with plush bnkets. Luna, Selyria, and the pups each had their own designated "room," separated by cleverly arranged partitions, leaving Harry with a corner for his crafting workspace. Cooking utensils hung in neat rows, and multiple containers brimming with herbs, magical reagents, or lumps of resin stood upon sturdy shelves. The entire den seemed more akin to a snug woodnd lodge than the bare earthen den he had first stumbled into months ago.

  He sucked in a breath, savoring the faint aroma of pine and the lingering musk of warm fur. A new day, new goals. Though it had been only a short while since the system's update, he felt a surge of excitement. He forced himself not to fidget, not to disturb his sleeping sisters. For a few precious minutes, he wanted to let the hush of morning envelop him, remembering how Chapter 7 had ended with so much possibility.

  But the moment demanded he get up. Carefully, he maneuvered out of the pups' cuddle pile. It took some wriggling to free his left leg from under Corlys, but he managed with minimal fuss. A tiny whine from Taris implied she missed the warmth of his presence. He stroked her head gently, murmuring a soft reassurance, then rose to stand. His cloak—one of his prized Mythic-level creations—hung on a peg by the entrance. Reaching for it, he draped it around his shoulders and quietly padded across the den.

  It was March 2, 1989, barely past dawn. He recalled how the day before had been filled with small tasks: finishing a set of upgraded bedding for Selyria, sewing new straps for the pups' winter cloaks, and practicing transmutation magic with stone and wood. Now, in the subtle glow of early light, the motherly system's voice chimed in his thoughts:

  "Good morning, my little cub! Did you sleep well? Let's see what we can accomplish today."

  He smiled, nodding in acknowledgement, though outwardly silent. In the distance, Luna stirred, raising her head. Meeting her eyes, Harry gave a friendly wave. She huffed softly, returning a calm, curious gaze, then rested her muzzle on her front paws, content to observe. Selyria was still asleep at the far side, half-hidden behind a wall of thick fur drapery.

  Harry stretched, feeling a comfortable pull in his muscles. He had advanced to Level 70 since the system's update, a mind-boggling jump from where he'd been months ago. A swirl of new quests, better coin rewards, and robust synergy between his many skills accounted for that swift progression. Yet, the jump felt natural. The motherly system had teased him with daily tasks that collectively added up to enormous experience. He didn't feel rushed or cornered into it—rather, it was a gentle nudge to keep him engaged and learning.

  He used Observe, which had become second nature. A flicker of greenish text danced across his field of vision, highlighting the structure of the den, the magical wards he'd etched into the walls, and even the heat signatures from the slumbering wolves. Observe was at Level 50 out of an apparent hundred. That alone was an achievement. The system had hinted that once he hit Level 100 in Observe, he would gain an advanced ability—something akin to "True Sight," which might reveal deeper secrets about his environment or the creatures around him. For now, Level 50 was enough for a special surprise: he could sense a fuller range of the wolves' strengths than ever before.

  Quietly, he panned his gaze across the pups. His line of sight found Myrren, who had inched closer to Luna. Observe whispered:

  [Myrren: Wolf Pup – Approx. Level ~10,000]

  He froze at the text. Ten thousand? Had he misread that?

  A flurry of excitement fluttered in his chest. He tested it again, focusing on Taris. The result was the same: Pup, Level ~10,000. Mesmerized, he turned to Luna. She had dozed off again, lulled by the hush of morning.

  [Luna: Giant Wolf (Beta) – Approx. Level ~12,000]

  He exhaled slowly. It was a validation of what he'd long suspected. The wolves were on a scale of power utterly beyond him. If the pups were 10,000 each, Luna at 12,000, then Selyria must be...

  He gently stepped around a woven partition and glimpsed Selyria's resting shape. She was curled in a regal knot, muzzle tucked against her fnk. He triggered Observe:

  [Selyria: Giant Wolf (Alpha) – Approx. Level ~15,000]

  A wave of awe rippled through him. Even after all this time living among them, he felt an almost reverent humility. That was real power—mythic, monstrous, and yet always controlled, always protective. He was their Omega, at Level 70. Most would call that a steep climb for a mere child, but it was a drop in the ocean of the pack's collective might.

  His heart pounded with a mix of respect and wonder. It didn't make him feel small in a bad way, though. If anything, it lit a fire inside him. He adored these wolves, was endlessly grateful for their acceptance, and he wanted to be worthy of them, to continue forging ahead in his own realm of talents. They had never belittled him or dismissed him as weak. They protected him, yes, but also took pride in his growth. That acceptance fueled his determination.

  A flicker of humor sparked from the system:

  "Surprised, dear? The gulf between you and them is quite rge, but don't fret. You've soared from near nothing to Level 70 in a handful of months. They've had far longer to amass that power. Keep pushing, and you'll close the gap in your own way."

  He nodded to himself. Yes, the system was right. He had soared indeed, though it often felt like a dream. He remembered the early days when he barely understood what it meant to have HP or MP. Now, he juggled spell combos, rummaged through yered skill bundles, and forged Mythic-tier items with enchanted runes.

  Stepping to the cooking area—really just a neat arrangement of stone blocks near the den's center—he decided to brew some warm herbal tea. The pups seemed to enjoy the aroma, and though only Harry partook in drinking it, the pack liked the comforting atmosphere. Thanks to the improvements in his Herbal Remedies and potion-brewing synergy, he created a mild brew that helped stave off the lingering chill of winter's st weeks.

  As the water heated, he recalled how "Legendary" had once been the pinnacle of item rarity he could craft. The motherly system, however, had introduced a new rung above Legendary: Mythic. Reaching that level required unbelievably fine materials, advanced runic engravings, and synergy from at least two or three magical disciplines. It was a borious process, but the rewards were staggering. Even a single Mythic cloak or staff could fetch thousands of coins in the expanded System Shop. He'd sold a few, building a tidy sum for future expansions or possible anime power purchases if he dared.

  He gave the steeping tea a slow stir, letting the swirl of leaves spin near the surface. His memory flicked back to the day he had broken that second magical binding...

  It had been a moment of breathtaking intensity. Before that, he had only broken one binding, which left nine intact. Now, if he recalled correctly, he had seven left. The second binding had shattered with a golden fre inside his core, guided by the system's soothing voice. His mana, previously a fraction of its potential, had surged to new heights—some thousands—though far from the rumored millions if all the bindings were removed. He'd nearly fainted from the sudden expansion. The wolves had instantly gathered around, protective and concerned, and he'd felt the hum of their collective empathy. They might not have fully understood the magical intricacies, but they felt his shift, his new resonance.

  When the tea was ready, he poured some into a carved wooden cup, took a gentle sip, and found the warmth reassuring. Another day, another chance to grow. The pups began to rise, yawning wide, sniffing the air. Corlys trotted over to him, tail swishing, as if to say, "Feed me or show me something fun." He patted her muzzle, setting the cup aside.

  He gently coaxed her to his side. "Morning, you little troublemaker," he teased, ruffling the fur behind her ears. She made a pyful huff, bumping her snout against his arm.

  One by one, the rest of the pack shook off the st vestiges of sleep. Soon, the den was alive with the shuffle of paws and a gentle chorus of whines and greeting sounds. Harry set out small portions of dried meat for them, though wolves typically hunted fresh game, the pack rarely objected to a snack. For himself, he had a chunk of breadlike substance he'd managed to create from ground seeds and a bit of alchemical heat. It was no gourmet meal, but combined with the tea, it made for a hearty enough breakfast.

  He heard the system chime in:

  "I see you're nibbling that improvised bread again, dear. Remember, you can refine your Baking skill if you practice more thoroughly. Maybe you'd like to aim for an actual loaf of bread once the forest pnts regrow?"

  Harry chuckled under his breath. "Yes, that'd be nice." The idea of baking real bread in a wolf den was a comedic but delightful ambition.

  Finishing his modest meal, he rose to start the day's tasks. True to its new nature, the system greeted him with a set of morning quests dispyed in his mind's eye:

  **[Daily Quests:

  Provide grooming for at least three pups (Reward: +50 Coins).

  Practice advanced illusions on stationary targets (Reward: +75 Coins).

  Harvest at least 5 lumps of resin for crafting (Reward: +30 Coins, Basic Materials Crate).Challenge Quest: Create a Legendary or Mythic item by tonight (Reward: +500 Coins, random high-tier resource).]**

  He considered them all with a nod. The grooming quest would be easy and also quite enjoyable—pups loved the attention. The illusions practice he could blend in with other tasks, perhaps experimenting on inanimate targets near the den. The resin harvest meant venturing outside. As for the challenge quest to create a Legendary or Mythic item, that piqued his interest. He was no stranger to forging masterpiece items, but each time was a test of synergy and focus.

  While he was pondering, the system's motherly voice added:

  "You don't have to do them all at once, dear. But you are so industrious, I suspect you will. Now go on, your family's waiting."

  He stifled a ugh. Indeed, Luna watched him with calm eyes, perhaps sensing his readiness to head out. He rummaged in a small chest—one of many he'd built to keep the den organized—and pulled out a brush. Simple, made of polished wood with bristles from the stiff fur of a boar. Wolf grooming might sound funny, but it was something they had come to appreciate. Harry's gentle brushing cleaned away mats in their winter coats, especially as the season began to shift. He knelt down and beckoned. Taris approached first, tail wagging.

  He started brushing along her back, careful not to pull. She stilled under his ministrations, letting out an almost catlike purr of contentment. Soon, Aylin and Eriwen queued up behind Taris, tongues lolling out in rexed panting. Harry spent a good half hour on the grooming session, removing small tangles, smoothing fur, checking for any cuts or parasites. The pups loved it, squabbling good-naturedly over whose turn came next. By the end, he had gathered a small pile of shed hair. He stored it in his Inventory, for he had discovered how to spin shed wolf fur into a type of yarn. Another synergy for sewing. Another glimpse of the system's comedic but useful approach.

  A chime:

  [Quest Complete: Provide grooming for at least three pups. Reward: +50 Coins]

  He petted each pup in turn, receiving grateful nuzzles. Now, it was time to gather resin. He found Luna, gesturing that he pnned to go outside. She stood, shaking out her thick coat, her golden eyes scanning the den. He guessed she'd accompany him, as she often did.

  They slipped through the den's entrance into the crisp morning air. The forest greeted them with a hush, broken by occasional bird calls. Snow still yered the ground in thick banks, though the upper crust softened in pces. Overhead, a pale sun offered a suggestion of warmth. Harry felt the difference in the air—spring was approaching, though winter's grip had not fully released its hold.

  Harry and Luna navigated the path behind the den, weaving around pines and fir trees. He identified likely spots for resin collection: thick trunks with small cracks exuding amber droplets or knots where branches had broken. He used a small carved scraper to carefully gather lumps of resin, dropping them into a cy container. All the while, Luna kept watch, scanning the surroundings with her superior senses. Occasionally, she scouted ahead, sniffing at rabbit holes or pawing the snow.

  Harry observed her with admiration, marveling at the fluid power coiled in her limbs. Level 12,000. He still couldn't fully fathom it. She could likely tear through a pack of normal wolves, or face down magical beasts, with unstoppable ease. Yet she lowered her head to accept a gentle scratch behind the ear from him whenever he offered. The dichotomy amazed him: unstoppable warrior, affectionate caretaker.

  Once he collected enough resin lumps, the system recognized the quest completion with a cheerful swirl of text:

  [Quest Complete: Harvest at least 5 lumps of resin. Reward: +30 Coins, Basic Materials Crate has been added to your Inventory!]

  He took a moment to open his Inventory and examine the crate. It often held random stuff—some cloth scraps, lumps of iron ore, or low-grade magical components. He'd look at it ter. For now, illusions practice beckoned. The daily quest demanded advanced illusions. He gnced around and spotted a clearing near a partly frozen creek. Perfect for target practice. Gently, he whistled to Luna, who followed him to the area.

  He calmed his breathing, feeling the motherly system's presence at the back of his mind. Illusion magic required focus and subtlety. Some illusions maniputed an observer's senses, others maniputed emotional states. He had spells like Calm, Fear, and Muffle. But the quest asked for advanced illusions. He'd recently acquired a new one: Invisibility, albeit at novice rank. That would push him further.

  He tried weaving illusions into shapes, forming ephemeral illusions of flickering lights or phantasmal creatures. The system measured each attempt, awarding small increments of skill experience.

  "Don't forget your new synergy with Restoration," the system chimed softly. "Illusion can pair with healing auras to soothe minds... or illusions can be anchored to runic glyphs. Experiment, dear."

  Harry nodded, conjuring a swirl of light that danced near the creek's surface. It flickered in and out, shimmering like a pyful sprite. Then, he tried a bit of Fear magic on a nearby rock—an odd notion, but it simuted the effect of terror on an inanimate object for practice. The rock, of course, didn't react, but it let him hone the weaving of Fear's pattern. Invisibility was trickier. He had to gather the intangible threads of illusion around himself, bending light so that it slipped around his form. The first attempt crackled and fell away. The second attempt clung for only a moment. By the third attempt, a faint ripple of air shimmered, and Harry disappeared from sight for about five seconds before he flickered back. Not perfect, but progress.

  Luna tilted her head, ears pricked. She sniffed the air, and upon not seeing him, she let out a questioning huff. Then, when he reappeared, she stepped forward, giving him an amused gnce. He scratched behind her ears, acknowledging she could probably smell or hear him just fine, illusions be damned.

  [Quest Complete: Practice advanced illusions on stationary targets. Reward: +75 Coins]

  With that done, Harry decided to return to the den. He'd tackle the final daily challenge—crafting a Legendary or Mythic item—after midday. If all went well, he might produce something truly special. Something that would push him closer to affording advanced powers in the Shop or perhaps let him buy more binding-breaking techniques from the system.

  And so the hours of the morning slipped by. He strolled alongside Luna, occasionally pausing to watch squirrels dart up trees or to gather interesting pieces of bark for potential potions. The forest carried the hush of a world still in the st throes of winter, yet on the cusp of spring. By the time they reached the den again, the rest of the pack was up and about, with Selyria stepping outside to greet the day. The pups milled around, rummaging for bits of leftover dried meat or practicing their pyful tussles near the entrance. Harry found himself drawn into their energy.

  In the days that followed, his tasks multiplied. The system introduced new skill refinements: pushing him to refine runecrafting, to explore more advanced synergy with illusions and restoration, and to incorporate the winter environment into his forging. If the system had been a silent presence before, it now felt like a personal trainer, mentor, and mother rolled into one. It cheered him on, teased him gently, and offered pointers when he hit snags.

  One evening, Harry set up his crafting station to attempt a new item for the Legendary/Mythic daily quest. He decided on a Frostfire Cloak, an advanced design that required blending both cold and heat magics in a single garment. He had tried a simpler version in the past, but the new synergy demanded a more precise yering of runes and salves. The cloak started with a carefully tanned hide from a winter hare—light, flexible, and receptive to enchantments. He inscribed runes along the inside lining, each representing an aspect of either fme or frost. Then, he coated the runes with a salve infused with ice crystals from the creek and powdered charcoal to symbolize fire. The final step involved chanting a mild incantation that combined Destruction spells of Fireball and Frostbite, woven gently to avoid them annihiting each other.

  It was exhausting work, sweat trickling down his temple as he tried to keep the energies banced. The motherly system cooed:

  "Steady now. Weave them in unison. Frost and fme in harmony."

  The pups looked on with fascination, occasionally whining or shifting their paws anxiously whenever Harry's hands trembled. He inhaled, exhaled, letting Restoration soothe him. Then he pressed the final seal into the cloak. A quiet snap of energy sparked, and the entire cloak glowed with alternating pulses of icy blue and warm orange.

  Moments ter, a swirling bel appeared:

  [Mythic Item Crafted: Frostfire Cloak – Grants extreme resistance to cold, moderate resistance to heat, and radiates mild warmth to nearby allies. +10% Fire and Ice spell potency. High synergy with winter environments.]

  He nearly colpsed from relief. The pack sensed his fatigue, pressing against him. He beamed, hugging Eriwen around the neck. The cloak hovered in his Inventory with a satisfying shimmer, and the system dispyed:

  [Challenge Quest Complete: Create a Legendary or Mythic item. Reward: +500 Coins, Random High-Tier Resource (Frostheart Crystal) added to Inventory!]

  He opened the Inventory to inspect the Frostheart Crystal—an icy blue gem that, according to the system's tooltips, could amplify cold-based spells or enchantments significantly. Perfect for future projects.

  Exhirated by success, he slumped onto a pile of furs to rest. The pups swarmed him, half congratuting, half demanding attention. He giggled as they nipped gently at his cloak or tried to sniff the remains of the salve. Luna stood at the perimeter, her gaze warm with approval. Selyria, nearby, chuffed softly as though to say, "Well done."

  The next day, Harry woke early again, greeted by the hush of a forest that was slowly thawing. Over the following weeks, March crept toward April, and the environment shifted from deep winter to the earliest hints of spring. Days felt incrementally warmer, the snow receding in patches, revealing damp earth and the first green shoots of hardy pnts. Streams gurgled under ice floes, carrying meltwater downstream. The pack adapted swiftly. The pups roamed further from the den on hunts or pyful excursions, while Luna and Selyria scouted the expanding territory.

  Harry found new herbs sprouting, the likes of which he hadn't seen since st autumn. With Resource Analysis and Observe at advanced levels, he identified them quickly, gleaning new alchemical recipes. He tested these in a synergy with Restoration magic, crafting potions that gave fleeting boosts to stamina or small bursts of healing. The system recognized each new concoction, awarding skill experience or incremental achievements.

  During hunts, he joined the wolves more frequently. Though physically outmatched, he offered illusions or bursts of Fireball to flush out prey. The wolves let him think he was instrumental, though likely they could handle it on their own. He didn't mind. The synergy of working together reminded him that he was truly part of this family. The motherly system never missed a chance to amuse him with comedic quest prompts whenever he did something affectionate, like braiding a pup's fur or singing them lulbies at night.

  He realized the transition from winter to spring also meant a shift in their daily routines. He spent less time huddled indoors, more time exploring the forest for new crafting materials. He discovered how to harness tree sap for an alchemical adhesive, how to refine bark into a tough leather-like material, how to spin spider silk from webs uncovered in hidden groves. Each discovery sparked an avanche of synergy within the system, culminating in advanced crafting recipes.

  As April advanced, the days grew longer, the snows melted in earnest, and the forest floor burst into color—young ferns uncoiling, wildflowers tentatively opening. The pack reveled in the season, frolicking in the fresh green. Harry collected a bounty of new ingredients, turning them into potions or weaving them into his legendary and mythic creations. The system's gentle presence guided him, offering pyful remarks or motherly praise:

  "Look at all these spring herbs! You're practically a master herbalist now. Perhaps you can brew a potion that helps the pups shed their winter coats more comfortably, hmm?"

  He gave it a try, eventually concocting a mild salve that soothed the pups' skin as they lost their dense winter fur. They wagged their tails in gratitude, and the system logged another comedic quest completion.

  But amid this wholesome routine, a deeper challenge loomed. With the second binding broken, the system gently prodded him to attempt the third. He knew breaking these bindings was both vital for unlocking his true magical potential and dangerous. Each binding was pced by Dumbledore, intended to restrict Harry's core. The system believed forcibly removing them risked backshes if done improperly, but it was also certain that step by step, he could free himself.

  He felt growing confidence. He had soared to Level 70, commanded advanced spells, created mythic artifacts. Perhaps it was time. The system did not push him relentlessly—it nudged him with occasional quest prompts:

  [Long-Term Quest: Break the Third Binding. Reward: +1,000 Coins, Rare Spell Tome, major MP expansion.]

  He prepared carefully, meditating daily, refining his approach to internal mana flow. The motherly system offered guidance, describing how best to visualize the golden threads that Dumbledore had tied around his magical center. The wolves, though not human magic users, sensed his tension. They hovered around him each time he practiced, pressing close if they felt his spirit waver.

  Finally, on May 2, 1989, as the forest shimmered with fresh blossoms and the den glowed with springtime cheer, Harry decided it was time. He had asked Selyria and Luna to guard the perimeter of the den—this was a personal struggle, but their presence would keep the pups away should anything go awry. He sat cross-legged on a bed of furs in his crafting area, the system's voice calm in his mind.

  "Breathe, my little cub. Find the knot that binds you. You're close. That second binding you broke gave you an excellent foothold. Now push further."

  He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly. In his mind's eye, he saw the swirl of golden lines coiled around the center of his magic. Nine remained, each like a taut rope digging into radiant mana. He focused on the next rgest strand. There it was, thrumming with a certain weight. He tried to unravel it gently, weaving Restoration magic into the intangible cords.

  A spark. A resistance. He grit his teeth, forcing his mental strength to hold. The system's motherly voice whispered:

  "Yes, that's it. Keep going. You're so close, dear."

  Images fshed behind his eyelids: the Dursleys, the night he was abandoned, the memory of being cold and alone... repced by the warmth of the wolves, the love they showered on him, the sense of family. He felt a wave of indignation at the thought of anyone caging his magic, stifling that connection to the forest, to the pack. Rage welled in his heart. Coupled with longing for freedom, it gave him the push he needed.

  He tugged at the binding with the full swirl of his mana. With a resonant crack, it snapped. A surge of energy burst through him, whiting out his senses. His physical body trembled, arcs of light dancing along his arms. He gasped, nearly toppling sideways. The pups in the next room whimpered in concern.

  Then the sensation stabilized, leaving him blinking tears of relief. The system spoke:

  "You did it, my little cub. The third binding is no more. Your mana pool grows again."

  A dizzying wave of numbers scrolled in his mental dispy. His pool soared to 50,000 out of a potential 2,500,000. Still only a fraction, but enough that he felt a new depth in every breath. The system dispyed success messages:

  [Quest Complete: Break the Third Binding. Reward: +1,000 Coins, Rare Spell Tome (Conjuration Tier) added to Inventory.MP expanded: 50,000/2,500,000.]

  Harry let out a shaky ugh, staring at his hands, which still faintly glowed with residual mana. He felt... lighter, freer. The pups rushed in, no longer held back by Selyria or Luna. They sniffed him all over, whining with concern. He reassured them, burying his face in their fur. A moment ter, Luna trotted in, scanning him with her intense golden eyes. She must have sensed the shift.

  He felt fresh tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, uncertain if they were from the physical strain or an overflow of gratitude. "Thank you," he murmured, hugging Taris. The pup licked his cheek. Luna's posture rexed, her tail flicking in a gesture of approval. Selyria, who had remained near the door, let out a low, triumphant howl. The pups echoed it in a chorus, resonating through the den. It was as if they were celebrating his breakthrough.

  The system's voice was warm with pride:

  "You've come so far, dear. Keep going, little by little. One day, all your bindings will fall."

  Exhausted, Harry let the pups guide him to a comfortable cushion of furs. There, he rested for a long while, letting the new tide of mana settle. Selyria approached, nose quivering, and pressed her muzzle gently to his forehead. Her empathy radiated safety and encouragement. He felt that same sense of unwavering acceptance he had known since the first time she carried him into the den.

  Over the next few days, he marveled at his expanded mana. Spells like Fireball and Ice Spike felt smoother, more potent. Transmutation was easier, letting him transform mundane materials into something else more effectively. Even Stoneflesh, which used to strain him, became an almost casual cast. The system praised every attempt, awarding him with skill increments and letting him glimpse new illusions or restoration spells in the Shop. Breaking the third binding served as a gateway to advanced magic.

  Spring continued to bloom across the forest, unveiling a vast array of new pnts and materials for Harry's ever-growing crafting repertoire. The motherly system teased him with fresh challenges. He spent hours forging new Mythic items, each more intricate than the st, and tested them in the Shop to see how many coins they might fetch. He found a steady rhythm: gather materials, craft, enchant, do pyful quests with the wolves, improve illusions, read the new conjuration tome. Slowly, his coin bance inched upward, hinting that one day, the grander powers—like Chakra or Ki—might be within reach.

  Between hunts with the wolves, short trips to hidden corners of the forest, and daily comedic tasks assigned by the system, the weeks blended in a tapestry of growth and harmony. The pups grew steadily, too, shedding their winter fluff and revealing leaner, more muscur frames. By April's end, they were truly formidable, though they still cuddled him at night as if they were small. Luna and Selyria maintained their silent watch, often letting the pups roam further. Each day, Harry saw new facets of the pack's dynamics, how they taught the younger ones to coordinate for hunts, how they scouted predators.

  Harry used Observe frequently, noting that the pups' levels inched upward from ~10,000 toward even greater heights. It was a staggering scale, but it only reinforced how deeply ingrained the wolf pack's existence was with magic or whatever hidden essence this forest possessed.

  When May 2 arrived, marking two months since the start of this chapter in his life, Harry sat at the entrance of the den one evening, gazing into a vibrant sunset that cast the forest in gilded tones of orange and pink. He reflected on the blessings that had flooded his world: acceptance from the wolves, the system's motherly guidance, his leaps in skill and magic, the forging of mythic wonders, and, most recently, the breaking of his third binding. He felt dwarfed by the road still ahead—seven more bindings, countless higher levels, new powers from anime universes locked behind massive coin costs—but he was no longer daunted. The boy who once cowered in a cupboard had found an unshakable foundation in the bond of a wolf pack and the gentle push of a whimsical system.

  He clutched a newly crafted staff in his hands, the Runic Healing Staff. It bore glowing inscriptions for Restoration spells, and he had tested it that afternoon, healing a minor cut on Myrren's paw with ease. This staff was designated as Legendary-level, and he might soon push it to Mythic with enough refining. The system's data indicated that building a stable synergy of Stoneflesh runes might elevate it further. But for now, it served as a reminder of his progress.

  The motherly system, as it often did in these quiet moments, spoke with a soft warmth:

  "Proud of yourself, dear? You should be. Breaking the third binding is no small feat. You are forging a new path with every day. Don't forget to rest. Tomorrow brings new challenges."

  He let the staff rest across his p, looking over his shoulder to find the wolves gathering for the night. Luna, regal in her stance, offered an inviting rumble. The pups circled Harry, nipping at him with affectionate excitement. Selyria stood a few paces back, watching with an approving glint in her eyes. This was the routine every evening—togetherness, a sense of belonging.

  He rose, pcing the staff inside the den. Then he joined them, letting the pups tug him into the warmth of their collective nest. The comfortable swirl of fur enveloped him, and he felt his heart settle into that familiar contentment. For all the system's expansions, for all the questing and crafting, this bond was the real treasure. The motherly system might have shaped his daily life, but the wolves had shaped his heart.

  He closed his eyes, letting the distant hoot of an owl and the rustle of wind through new leaves lull him. Despite the leaps in magic, in forging, in illusions, he was still the Omega Pup, safe under the protective umbrel of a pack with unimaginable power. That was precisely how he liked it: humble, determined, and unconditionally cherished.

  As the den hushed for the night, he recalled that tomorrow, new quests awaited. He might brew potions with spring blossoms, or refine illusions to Master-level, or push further on conjuration spells. The motherly system might conjure whimsical tasks, from pying hide-and-seek with the pups to forging a Mythic-grade amulet from that Frostheart Crystal. Each day brought a step forward, a deeper synergy with magic, a closer bond with the wolves.

  And one day, he vowed, he would break every st chain that Dumbledore had pced on him. He would stand on equal footing with his beloved pack, not just as caretaker and Omega, but also as a force in his own right—a mage, a craftsman, a free soul bound by love, not curses.

  He drifted to sleep with that quiet resolution echoing in his mind, lulled by the gentle presence of his motherly system and the protective circle of wolfish warmth.

  [End of Chapter 8]

  [Harry's Status at the End of Chapter 8]Name: Harry James Potter (The Abandoned Pup)Race: Human (7/10 Magical Bindings Remaining)Title(s): Omega Pup of the Wolves, Artisanal Hearth-Keeper, Burgeoning Archmage, Mythic Artisan, Pack StylistLevel: 70HP: 7,000MP: 50,000/2,500,000 (Remaining bindings restrict full potential)Condition: Healthy, Energized, ThrivingAttributes (S.P.E.C.I.A.L.):

  Strength: 12

  Perception: 28

  Endurance: 19

  Charisma: 14

  Intelligence: 28

  Agility: 21

  Luck: 16

  Skills and Bundles:

  Expanded Survival and Crafting Bundles (Woodworking, Tanning & Leatherworking, Advanced Herbal Remedies, Runic Etching, Mycoculture, etc.)

  Magic Skills: Higher-tier Destruction (Fireball, Ice Spike), Alteration (Stoneflesh, Transmute), Restoration (Greater Healing, Cure Disease), Illusion (Invisibility, Fear), Conjuration Tier (beginner)

  Crafting Mastery with Mythic item creation (Frostfire Cloaks, Legendary Staves, etc.)

  Synergistic skill combos for illusions, runes, and potions

  System Coins: ~3,000 (earned through crafting, quests, and Mythic item sales)

  Inventory: Legendary and Mythic items, rare herbs, enchanted materials, Frostheart Crystal, newly gifted Rare Spell Tome (Conjuration Tier)

  Quests:

  Various Daily Quests (crafting, illusions, pack bonding), Challenge Quests for Mythic gear, and Long-Term Quests to break the magical bindings

  Overall:Harry has shattered two more bindings since the beginning of winter, leaving seven intact. He stands at Level 70, forging deeper connections with both his magic and his wolf family. With a newly expanded mana pool, advanced crafting prowess, and the unwavering love of his pack, he faces the future brimming with hope and resolve.

  AN:

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