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65 Kamar Taj (aka Harry's Groundhog Day)
🕑 Added 2025-02-17 18:15:01 +0000 UTCKamar-Taj, the home of the Masters of the Mystic Arts, was filled with silence on this moonless night as everyone headed to bed for the day. Within the secluded depths of the library, silence reigned supreme. This wasn’t the ordinary library accessible to students of the mystic arts; this was a restricted section that housed all the journals and personal reports of the members of the mystic arts. They were sealed with layers of enchantments that only a handful of individuals could bypass.
Harry and Yao stood at the heart of this sanctum as shelves rose high above them, stacked with ancient tomes and scrolls that whispered secrets from ages past. Magical lanterns floated overhead, casting a soft, and golden glow over the space.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked flatly as he watched Yao unlock the final enchantment on the heavily protected book that stood on a separate pedestal at the heart of the library.
“Guilt,” Yao replied simply.
Harry frowned, stepping closer as the wards shimmered faintly under Yao's touch before dissipating. “What was there to feel guilty about?” he asked softly. “You did what you had to do. Sometimes we have to make impossible choices.”
Yao paused, her hands lingering over the book’s ornate cover as if reluctant to open it. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and burdened with centuries of regret. “Genocide is never an easy topic for anyone to talk about, let alone for the hand that wielded the blade,” she said. “I may have believed, at the time, that we were acting for the protection of everyone in this world, but that belief doesn’t absolve me of the lives that were lost.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “But you didn’t start the war. Dormammu and his corruption did. You were stopping a threat.”
“Perhaps,” Yao said, her lips pressing into a thin line. “But stopping a threat does not erase the blood spilt in the process. The magical community was vast and diverse, with many who had been innocently infected by Dormammu’s corruption. The whole species was wiped out because they were deemed a risk.”
She looked down at her hands as if seeing the bloodstains from a conflict long past. “Their screams…” She trailed off, her eyes haunted. “Even now, centuries later, they echo in my mind.”
Harry’s voice softened, carrying a note of understanding. “You were following orders, Yao. Trying to protect the realm. That doesn’t make you a monster.”
“No,” she agreed bitterly. “But it doesn’t absolve me either. Wisdom does not erase the past, Harry. It only gives you a clearer lens to see the mistakes you’ve made. Almost seven hundred years of learning, of atonement and yet, the guilt remains. It always will.”
“Were you the Sorcerer Supreme at the time?” Harry asked gently, his tone devoid of judgment.
Yao shook her head slowly. “No,” she murmured, her voice laced with regret. “It was during that crusade that we lost our Sorcerer Supreme. He fell sacrificing himself against the last of Dormammu’s forces, practically ending the war. In the aftermath, I was chosen to lead this order, though I often wonder if I truly deserved it.”
Harry frowned, his emerald eyes scanning her face for a trace of the calm authority she usually exuded. Instead, he saw vulnerability and a rare glimpse of the weight she carried behind her stoic exterior.
“You didn’t have the Eye of Agamotto back then,” Harry comforted. “Without it, controlling or manipulating time wasn’t an option for you. You did everything you could with what you had. Odin explained to me how Dormammu’s corruption spread methodically over a period of time, consuming everyone. It wasn’t something you or anyone could have stopped. There was no way to undo that kind of devastation, Yao.”
Yao’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Perhaps. I have lived long enough to understand that time itself is a paradox. We are shaped by the choices we make, yet we are forever haunted by the ones we could not make.”
Harry stepped closer, his voice taking on a gentle but resolute tone. “You’re being too hard on yourself. You weren’t the Sorcerer Supreme yet, Yao. You didn’t have the Eye, or the power, or the perspective you have now. You were thrust into an impossible situation, and you did what you thought was right at the time. It’s easy to look back with centuries of wisdom and find fault, but that doesn’t mean you failed.”
Yao glanced at him, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile.
“Is that why you befriended me?” Harry quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye. “To make amends for past sins? A bit cliché, don’t you think?”
Yao smirked, the weight of their previous conversation lightening slightly. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Harry Potter,” she replied teasingly. “At first, I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of you. Ever since you appeared in this world, I’ve been keeping a close eye on you, much like Heimdall does from Asgard.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what did the all-seeing Sorcerer Supreme think I was up to?”
“Initially?” Yao said, her smirk widening. “I was certain you were Dormammu’s minion”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. Yao’s smile softened as she continued. “But as I got to know you, as I watched you navigate this world with all its challenges, I grew envious of your resilience, your unrelenting hope. Over time and through multiple timelines, I saw that you weren’t a threat but a kindred spirit.”
Harry tilted his head, his teasing demeanour fading as her words struck a deeper chord. “Kindred spirit?”
Yao nodded slowly. “You reminded me of how lonely I had become. This world can be isolating, Harry, especially when you live long enough to watch everyone else move on. To make a new friend and who understands the situation that I am in has been a rare and genuine pleasure.”
Harry blinked, her candid admission catching him off guard. He smiled warmly, the sincerity in her words resonating deeply. “Well, I’m glad I could brighten up your eternal existence, Yao,”
“There you go,” Yao said as the final enchantments dissolved with a faint shimmer of light. She reached out, extracting the ancient book from the pedestal where it had been safeguarded for centuries. Its cover was aged and worn, with intricate runes faintly glowing along its edges.
Carefully, Yao handed the book to Harry, her expression somber. “This contains the personal accounts of all the mystics who participated in the cleansing. Their thoughts, their actions, their opinion, their justifications—every detail they chose to record. It’s the most comprehensive account you’ll find on the subject.” She hesitated, her voice softening. “I hope it brings you the clarity you seek.”
Harry accepted the book with both hands, the weight of it heavier than he expected—not just physically, but emotionally. He could feel the lingering traces of the magic it held, almost as if the memories within it were alive and waiting to be unlocked.
“Thank you,” he said earnestly, looking up at Yao. He carefully tucked the book into his sling bag, ensuring it was secure.
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Yao abruptly raised a hand, silencing him mid-thought. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on something unseen. “The wards have been tripped,” she said, her tone calm but edged with steel. “There are thirteen individuals within Kamar-Taj who have no business being here.”
Harry frowned. “Shouldn’t you have seen this coming?” he asked, his tone half-joking.
Yao turned to him with a faintly amused expression. “You mean with the ‘prophetic device,’ as you so eloquently put it?”
“Well, yeah,” Harry said, gesturing vaguely. “The whole Eye of Agamotto thing. I figured nothing could catch you off guard.”
She gave a slight shrug, her demeanour as composed as ever. “It’s true that I have glimpsed countless possible futures, but this incident was a minor blip in the grand scheme of things—a butterfly’s wingbeat compared to a hurricane. In such cases, I prefer to observe the outcomes as they unfold rather than waste time overanalyzing every ripple in the time stream.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “So, what? You just decided to wing it?”
Yao smirked, her composure unshaken. “Sometimes, Harry, the art of being the Sorcerer Supreme lies in knowing when to act and when to let events play out naturally.”
Her confidence was reassuring, but Harry couldn’t shake his scepticism. “And if this ‘minor blip’ turns out to be something bigger?”
Yao tilted her head, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Then we’ll find out together, won’t we?”
“So, how do you want to approach this?” Harry asked, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders in preparation for the inevitable fight.
Yao regarded him with a serene smile. “Before we rush in, let’s see what type of a hurricane this butterfly produces.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-stretch. “What do you mean by that? Isn’t it just a ‘smash the bad guys and save the day’ kind of deal?”
Yao chuckled softly, shaking her head. She lowered herself to the ground, crossing her legs into a meditative lotus position. As her eyes closed, her body began to rise, levitating a few inches off the floor.
Harry stepped back, watching in awe as an ethereal emerald glow enveloped her. The Eye of Agamotto, resting at her neck, pulsed with life. Ribbons of light spiraled outward, forming intricate patterns that shimmered in the air around her.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
“Time-stamping this moment,” Yao replied, her voice steady and calm. “I’m anchoring us to this point in the timeline so we can return and explore all possible permutations of what might come.”
The glow around her intensified, spreading from the amulet to her entire form, her silhouette framed by swirling arcs of light. After a few moments, the spell began to subside, the energy retreating back into the Eye. Her feet touched the ground, and she straightened, her expression as composed as ever.
“Done,” Yao said simply, brushing her hands off as though she had just completed a mundane task.
Harry blinked, processing the weight of what had just happened. “So, if this goes south, we’re…what? Just rewinding to try again?”
“Consider it a lesson in the patience required to ensure the best possible future.” Yao confirmed with a faint smile. “Now, let’s deal with our uninvited guests. Shall we?”
“Any idea who might dare to attack Kamar-Taj?” Harry asked, as he fell into step beside Yao.
Yao’s expression turned contemplative, though there was a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “No idea,” she admitted. “But judging by how swiftly they’re moving through the grounds, I would wager it’s a group of rogue students. They call themselves Zealots now, led by my former pupil, Kaecilius.”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up at that revelation. “Your former student?”
Yao gave a small, resigned nod. “Yes. Kaecilius was once a promising mystic, talented and driven. But his ambition outgrew his wisdom, and his discontent with the natural order led him down a darker path.”
“Any guesses as to what they are doing here?” Harry enquired.
Yao shrugged lightly, “A book, most likely. The library holds knowledge that, in the wrong hands, could cause irreparable damage to the world—or even beyond it.”
“Shouldn’t we hurry to stop them, then?” Harry asked noticing how casually Yao was making her way through the library.
Yao shook her head. “Not particularly. This is, in essence, a simulation,” she replied. “You and I will be reliving this moment in time over and over again. The moment I activated the Eye of Agamotto, we were locked into a temporal loop.”
Harry blinked, momentarily thrown. “Wait, what do you mean locked?”
Yao’s lips curled into a smile. “Every action we take here exists in a contained loop, a ripple within the greater stream of time. I’m using this moment to review all possible futures, testing every permutation and outcome this incident might lead to. Whether we intervene, stand still, or allow events to play out naturally, I will see what impact it has on the fabric of reality.”
Harry frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. “And if we don’t stop them? What happens then?”
“Then we learn,” Yao replied simply. “By allowing the normal course of events to occur, I can observe what unfolds. Nothing we do in this loop will be permanent.”
Harry exhaled slowly, still trying to wrap his head around it. “And how long do you plan to keep us stuck in this experiment?”
Yao’s expression softened, though there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “For as long as it takes, of course. Some futures are predictable, while others repeatable.”
As they reached the library’s main hall, Yao stopped him with a hand against his chest. “Quiet now.”
They stood just out of sight as the group continued their work. The sight before them was enough to make Harry’s blood run cold. The librarian’s body had crumpled lifelessly to the floor, blood pooling across the intricate stonework as his head had been chopped off.
Around him stood a group of robed individuals, their dark crimson attire similar to the Masters of the Mystic Arts—but something about them felt wrong, warped, corrupted.“Looks like I was right,” Yao said, gesturing towards the robed figures. “These are the Zealots led by Master Kaecilius.”
Harry’s jaw clenched at the sight of the fallen librarian, his anger simmering dangerously close to boiling over. “And we’re just going to stand here? Watch while they kill people and ransack the place?”
“For now, yes,” Yao said, her tone maddeningly casual. Her face remained serene, as though she were observing something as mundane as tea steeping. “Right now, everyone is expendable.”
“Expendable?” Harry hissed through gritted teeth, turning to face her. “That man had a family, people who cared about him—he wasn’t expendable to them!”
Yao looked at Harry, her expression unreadable. “I understand your anger, but remember, this is a simulation. Nothing that happens here is permanent, no matter how real it feels. There is purpose in our inaction.”
Harry exhaled sharply, forcing himself to look back at the Zealots. He tried to shake the image of the librarian from his mind, though his fists were still clenched tight. “Fine. Then tell me—what are they looking for?”
Yao tilted her head, watching the Zealots as they rifled through the shelves. “I don’t know but we’ll figure it out in time.”
Harry narrowed his eyes, observing the scene more closely.
The moment the leader of the group tore a page from one of the ancient tomes, the Zealots moved to exit the place. But their exit was abruptly cut off when Yao appeared in the doorway calmly. Harry stepped in just behind her, eyes sharp and focused.
“What do you aim to achieve from this, Master Kaecilius?” Yao’s voice was low but carried the weight of authority, echoing through the vast library like a warning bell.
The group froze mid-motion, their escape momentarily stalled. Harry watched as the Zealots tensed in unison, their bodies shifting subtly into defensive stances.
At the center of it all stood Kaecilius. Tall and imposing, his sharp features were cast in deep shadows beneath the library’s dim lantern light. He did not move immediately; instead, he stood still. For a moment, Kaecilius regarded Yao with a calculating expression, his brow furrowed as he weighed his options. His dark eyes flickered briefly to Harry, then back to Yao, narrowing as if debating whether resistance was worth the risk. Without a word, he pivoted sharply to his left and sprinted toward the nearest exit.
“Coward,” Harry muttered under his breath, stepping forward, but Yao extended her arm to stop him.
The Zealots, caught off guard by their master’s retreat, hesitated for the briefest of moments, clearly stunned. But their training took over, and they quickly broke formation to follow Kaecilius.
“Do we just let them go?” Harry asked, incredulity lacing his voice as he watched the group disappear into the darkness beyond the library.
Harry instinctively tensed, ready to give chase, but Yao’s hand held him back. “They’re heading for the London Sanctum. No need to waste energy running after them when we can intercept them with ease.” She explained
Harry glanced at her a smirk tugged at the corner of Harry’s mouth, “Well, in that case…” He extended his hand outward, his voice dropping into a low chant.
“By ancient oath and starlit flame, come, O blade, by my desire!” The air around Harry shimmered with ethereal energy, crackling as if the very fabric of magic itself was bending to his will. Slowly, the spectral form of a sword began to take shape, coalescing from the surrounding light like a star being forged in the cosmos. The blade materialized, translucent at first, before solidifying into a silver gleam.
“That never gets old,” Yao commented dryly, though her eyes sparkled with approval. Without another word, Yao raised her hands and began tracing a circle patterns in the air. Golden sparks burst to life at her fingertips, spiraling out in concentric circles that expanded and spun like a great celestial wheel. The spinning sigils grew larger, faster, until a portal crackled into existence before them. Through it, they could see a dimly lit alleyway near the London Sanctum, where the Zealots were darting through shadows, unaware of the trap being laid before them.
The portal stabilized with a low hum, shimmering like a pool of molten gold. Yao gestured toward it, her expression composed. “Shall we?”
“After you,” Harry replied with a grin, stepping through the glowing gateway alongside her.
The instant they emerged on the cobbled streets of London, the air shifted. It was colder here, the daylight filtering down through a narrow alley. Yao wasted no time. She waved her hands again, as though conducting an invisible orchestra. The air in front of the fleeing Zealots began to ripple, fragments of light twisting into existence. Suddenly, a massive formation of jagged shards materialized in front of them. Each shard reflected distorted, fractured versions of the fleeing Zealots, the reflections twisting and multiplying unnervingly.
The Zealots skidded to a halt, startled and wary, their formation breaking apart in disarray.
Kaecilius, however, was unfazed. His brow furrowed as he stepped closer to the shimmering shards, studying them. Kaecilius spun around, his expression hardening as his gaze fell upon Yao and Harry.
As Yao’s fingers danced fluidly through the air, the ground beneath them trembled. Buildings groaned and warped as if they were alive, their structures bending and twisting like reflections in rippling water. Walls stretched and folded in on themselves, while windows and doors multiplied and inverted with dizzying symmetry.
Harry took a step back, his gaze lifting to watch as the entire world inverted, folding upward like pages of an enormous book until the cityscape was now a mind-bending labyrinth of mirrored geometry.
As the warping ceased, an eerie stillness settled. Harry let out a low whistle of appreciation as he turned in a slow circle, taking in the surreal sight. “So this is the famous Mirror Dimension,” he murmured, his voice tinged with awe. “I gotta say, it’s like walking inside a broken snow globe.”
Kaecilius snarled, “Hypocrite!” His voice reverberated like a stone dropped into a still pond, amplified by the dimension’s distorted acoustics.
Without hesitation, Kaecilius drew his twin sickles. At their master’s cue, the Zealots sprang into action. Weapons appeared in their hands with bursts of spectral energy: whips crackling with ghostly light, staffs etched with glowing runes, and knives that shimmered with dark intent.
Two Zealots surged forward, spectral whips crackling in their hands like live serpents. The weapons snapped through the warped air, aiming to coil around Harry and Yao. Harry and Yao moved in unison. In an instant, they leaped forward fluid, fast, and lethal.
Harry was on his target within five steps, his movements a blur. The silver blade in his hand gleamed with ethereal light as he slashed upward in a single, brutal arc. The Zealot barely had time to widen his eyes before the blade cleaved through him, cutting cleanly from the torso up. There was no scream, only the faint crackle of dissipating magic as the body split apart and crumpled to the ground.
The second Zealot, momentarily stunned by the ferocity of the attack, turned just in time to see Yao already upon him. With a graceful sweep of her hand, Yao summoned her spectral mandala fan. The fan shimmered as it whirled through the air with a razor’s edge. The Zealot’s head separated from his shoulders before he could react, the motion so clean it seemed almost surreal.
The bodies hit the ground almost simultaneously.
Two more assailants charged forward, their whipping through the air in synchronized arcs. Harry ducked under a swing, and swept his leg out in a low, brutal kick. The attacker crashed onto his back with a dull thud. Without hesitation, Harry drove his glowing blade downward, piercing the man’s chest cleanly, the blade humming as it severed flesh and bone.
Beside him, Yao deflected a strike with a shimmering golden mandala in her left hand, the staff’s impact reverberating harmlessly across its surface. In the same breath, her right hand sliced across her opponent’s torso with another mandala fan, the sharp edge cleaving through robes and flesh. A spray of blood followed as the zealot staggered back, clutching the gaping wound, before collapsing to the ground.
The eight zealots spread into a wide circle, their weapons shimmering with spectral energy. Without a word, they pounced all at once on the two.
Yao was the first to move. With a wave of her hands, the ground beneath them fractured and splintered into shards, rising in jagged peaks that forced the zealots to scatter mid-attack. Harry surged forward through the chaos, his blade cutting a gleaming arc of silver. The nearest zealot met him head-on, twin knives flashing in a desperate flurry, but Harry parried the strikes effortlessly and then spun, his blade cleaving diagonally across the man’s chest. The zealot dropped, motionless.
Behind Harry, Yao glided through the air like a phantom, her mandala fans spinning. Three zealots rushed her, whips and staves cracking. She pirouetted, her glowing shields intercepting their strikes. With a flick of her wrist, the fans expanded like slicing halos, carving through the whips and staves before circling back to sever limbs and weapons alike. One zealot crumpled as a fan cut clean through his torso; the other two staggered backward, blood dripping onto the fractured ground.
Harry’s next opponent lunged at him with a spear, aiming for his chest. Harry sidestepped, pivoting smoothly, and caught the shaft with his free hand. Yanking the zealot forward, he drove his knee into the man’s stomach before thrusting his sword upward under the ribs. Without breaking stride, Harry turned, flicking his wrist to send a concussive shockwave from his blade, knocking two other zealots off their feet.
Across the battlefield, Yao conjured a massive golden mandala beneath her feet. The disk expanded outward, warping the mirror-dimension ground like ripples in a pond. The vibrations threw her attackers off balance, and Yao capitalized on their stagger. With a swift motion, she unleashed a barrage of golden projectiles. A whip-wielding zealot collapsed with a shard through his throat, while another fell backward, clutching his bleeding shoulder.
The two remaining zealots regrouped, desperation fueling their frenzied strikes as they charged Harry. Harry raised his free hand, fingers splayed, and murmured a silent command. Tendrils of glowing energy erupted from the ground, ensnaring one zealot mid-air. As the man struggled, Harry swung his blade in a wide, final arc, the silver glow cutting through his trapped target like a knife through paper.
The last zealot spun toward Yao, screaming in rage, his spectral staff aimed for her heart. Yao remained still, unflinching. At the final moment, her hand shot out and seized the staff mid-swing, golden energy crackling through her grip. The weapon shattered into fragments. With one decisive motion, she struck the zealot with her mandala fan, the blunt edge snapping his neck. He fell lifelessly to the warped ground.
The battlefield stilled. Eight zealots lay sprawled across the distorted landscape, blood pooling across the mirrored surface.
Kaecilius staggered back, his chest heaving with fury as he took in the carnage around him. His eyes burned with hatred as he pointed an accusatory finger at Harry and Yao. “You think this is over? You will not get away with—”
The rest of his sentence never came.
Harry didn’t wait. In one fluid motion, he hurled his blade like a streak of starlight. The sword spun end over end, a flash of silver cutting through the warped air, before embedding itself squarely in Kaecilius’ chest.
Kaecilius froze, his words dying in a choked gasp. He glanced down in disbelief at the blade piercing his heart, his hands shaking as they weakly reached for the hilt. Then, like a marionette with its strings cut, he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Harry strode forward, the blade disintegrating from Kaecilius’ corpse and re-materializing in his hand with a soft hum. “I really hate villain monologues,” he muttered under his breath, brushing a bit of nonexistent dust off his jacket.
Yao smirked faintly at Harry’s comment as the two approached Kaecilius’s lifeless body. She crouched down to retrieve the torn pages he had stolen from the library. Unfurling the parchment, her gaze darkened as she scanned the archaic symbols and diagrams etched across the page.
“What were they after?” Harry asked, peering over her shoulder. The script was completely alien to him.
Yao’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s a ritual,” she said quietly. “A means to contact Dormammu and draw power from the Dark Dimension.”
“Dormammu,” he repeated, “It’s a good thing we put a stop to this before something serious happened.”
Yao slowly lifted her gaze to Harry, her expression unexpectedly calm. A smirk curled at the corner of her mouth. “Who said anything about stopping it?”
Harry turned to look at her, a frown etched into his features. “What do you mean?”
Yao rose to her feet, the pages fluttering faintly in her grasp as if disturbed by an unseen force. “This was just a test run,” she said, her tone almost amused.
Harry’s frown deepened. “You’re entertaining the possibility of letting this ritual succeed? Yao, I thought the whole point was to stop Dormammu, not invite him to tea.”
Yao met his incredulous stare with a piercing look of her own. “For centuries, Dormammu has sought to invade our realm, to corrupt and consume it. But it has been a long time since anyone from Earth has willingly reached out to him,” she explained, her voice calm but heavy with purpose. “This could be an opportunity, one we may never get again.”
“Opportunity?” Harry echoed, his tone edged with disbelief.
Yao’s smirk returned, a glint of steel in her eyes. “To destroy Dormammu for good. If this ritual can connect them to him, then perhaps we can use it to strike at the heart of his power. If not” She shrugged lightly, as if discussing an ordinary experiment. “Then we erase this path, and no one will ever tread it again.”
Harry looked at her for a long moment, trying to gauge the depth of her intentions. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re really playing with fire here.”
Yao tilted her head, the smirk softening into something more cryptic. “It’s only fire if you let it burn you, Harry.”
“You’re sure about this?” Harry asked, arms crossed as he shot Yao a skeptical look.
Yao’s lips quirked into a mischievous smirk. “Welcome to the exhilarating and maddening world of being the Sorcerer Supreme,” she said dryly. Then, as if she were merely suggesting a change in strategy for a chess match, she added, “Oh, and in the next loop, let Kaecilius escape. Let him think he slipped away by the skin of his teeth.”
Harry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”
Yao’s eyes twinkled with unspoken amusement as she moved gracefully into a lotus position, hands resting delicately on her knees. “This is the first time I have someone else accompany me in this task.” She glanced up at him, emerald energy already beginning to shimmer around her. “Now stop complaining and play your part.”
Harry grumbled under his breath, adjusting the grip on his sword before sighing in resignation. “Fine. But if this comes back to bite us, you’re explaining it to Natasha.”
Yao chuckled softly, and with that, the glowing green light of the Eye of Agamotto swirled outward, wrapping around her and the world itself.
In the span of a single breath, the shimmering light faded, and Harry found himself standing once again in the restricted section of the library at Kamar Taj. The air was still, the wards just broken, as though nothing else had happened at all. He looked down, flexing his fingers in slight disbelief. It was as though the past hour or so had been wiped clean from existence.
Yao opened her eyes, her smirk firmly in place as she stood. “Ready for round two?”
Harry turned to her with a dry look. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”
Her smirk widened, but she offered no reply. Instead, she gestured for him to follow as they headed back toward the events about to unfold again.
