Harry Potter and the War of Morgan le Fay

Chapter 11

Harry gasped as he opened his eyes and found the pulsing had not ceased. Glittering lights were dancing before his eyes, brightening and dimming with every throb of power in his chest. His heart was pounding and he could feel himself trembling, his breathing hitching sporadically.

"It's alright, lad," the deep voice of Merlin said and Harry's eyes darted around, trying to see through the cloud of sparkling, bouncing threads. "Your magic is trying to reorient itself. Do not fight it or your core could overload or reject your magic in your panic."

Harry tried to listen, understanding the danger, at least to an extent. He tried to calm himself, tried to slow his breathing, but his newly released magic was too much. It was so much larger than him, surrounding and encompassing. It was like his cupboard and he was small, alone, unworthy, and unwanted. All he had in that cupboard was all he deserved, all he could handle. He wasn't strong enough for the world beyond the cupboard. He wasn't strong enough for the roles and expectations bestowed upon him. He wasn't strong enough for this power.

He was just a lonely little boy left in a cupboard.

He wasn't enough.

Suddenly, amongst the heavy pulsing, there was a sharp pain in his chest that made him release a shuddering breath. The pain continued, pulling a whimper and tears from him as a harsh cold began to settle deep within him. He squeezed his eyes shut at the sensations and all-consuming fear.

"He's panicking," he just barely heard Arthur say and he wished he could laugh at the understatement. "His core is rejecting the magic."

"Why would he reject his magic?" he heard Severus ask.

"His core is reacting to his panic and his panic is likely being caused by not wanting the magic or something similar," Godric replied. "It is very similar to Infusion Magic. Our cores can only absorb magic if we allow it and accept it. He's not accepting his magic for some reason."

"And if he doesn't accept his magic?" Severus asked, sounding worried.

"His core will empty and he will die," Merlin responded severely.

"We need to convince him to accept his magic," Salazar said. "Could there be a reason he is panicking about this?"

There was no response and Harry let out another shaky breath as he was wracked with pain and cold. He was startled when a hand gathering up his broke through the despair and charged magic. He forced his eyes open and found Severus through his magic.

"Talk to me, child."

"I...I can't do it...I'm not...not good enough or...or strong enough," Harry stuttered.

"For what?"

"Any...any of it."

"Well, this magic is yours and was inside you all along so you must be good enough and strong enough for it," Severus told him gently.

"I'm...I'm not a hero," Harry said as though releasing some great admission.

"No one is asking you to be," Severus replied.

"You will be free."

"You are enough as you are and that is all we need," Severus continued and Harry stared at the man as the conviction bled into the man's words. "I will never ask for more than who you are. You are enough."

"You will find what you need ... learn who you are meant to be ... you will be free."

Death's and Severus' words penetrated his suspended haze of lonely deprecation. Some part of him wrapped itself up in the words, desperate to believe. As he did, the pain in his chest slowly eased and the magic around him began to calm, twisting together gently. He was able to take slow, deep breaths and his body stopped trembling. Where there had been pain, there was now a warmth.