The meeting had ended with laughter and awe, but Harry's mind wasn't quiet. Even as the others drifted off—Sirius making a joke about stealing casino chips, Fred and George arguing about who'd make the better "cruise director", Harry's focus had already slipped elsewhere.
He stood at the railing long after they'd gone, watching the sea stretch endlessly into the dark. The sound of waves struck something inside him—a rhythm, an idea refusing to wait.
By the time he returned to his suite, the decision had already been made.
Sirius was still downstairs, so Harry sat at the desk, pulled out a notepad, and scribbled a short note:
To everyone —Don't panic. I'm heading back early. I've got everything I need in my head to start work on the ship, and waiting a week feels like wasting one. Enjoy the rest of the cruise. I'll have a surprise ready by the time you're back.
— Harry.
He placed it neatly on the table, and stood. A moment later, the cabin lights flickered as he Disapparated.
The next instant, the humid Egyptian air hit him. He was standing just outside Cairo International, the lights of the airport glowing against the night sky. Withing minutes, he'd tracked down the manager's office and dropped a thick envelope of Egyptian pounds—enough to make any negotiations very short.
"Fastest plane to London. One hour. Get a private jet if you have to."
The man didn't even blink. "Yes, sir."
An hour later, the jet streaked across the night, its white silhouette cutting through the thin clouds. Harry sat by the window, eyes half-closed, reviewing every line of the ship's schematics in his mind — recalling materials, layering enchantments, optimizing balance, runic cores, ward layering, all forming with mathematical precision in his memory.
By the time the wheels touched the London tarmac, it was already morning and the plan was already built.
He cleared customs like smoke—quick, precise, invisible in his efficiency—then slipped into the airport restroom. And just like that he vanished from there, Disapparating again.
The Dursley Mansion loomed behind him, as Harry stood on the cliff's edge— where the sea roared beneath a pale moon. His eyes reflected its silver gleam.
He exhaled, smiling faintly. "Alright. Let's begin."
Then a flash of memory, something bright, from his past life. A massive ship he'd seen once across a glowing screen. The Icon of the Seas.
He could almost see it now—vast, impossible, real. The largest cruise ship every built.
And more importantly, he remembered the engine cause in his past life he was fascinated to know what could power such a huge monster.
Six colossal multi-fuel Wärtsilä engines — capable of running on diesel or natural gas. Efficient, stable, powerful.
Harry's grin sharpened. "Thank you, fate."
He raised his hand, Elythral appearing immediately in his grip, pulsing excitedly. "Let's build something the world's never seen."
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The group arrived home late in the evening — tired, tanned, still laughing from the cruise. Luggage cluttered the marble foyer, voices echoing through the grand hall as everyone called out for Harry.
No reply.
A moment later, three house-elves popped into existence, their faces unusually pale.
Tinsel stepped forward, wringing his hands. "Master—Mistress—Harry Potter sir is… in his room."
Something in his tone turned the air cold.
Petunia's voice went sharp. "What do you mean in his room?"
Tinsel's ears drooped. "Sleeping, ma'am. But… not like sleeping. He fainted after returning. Tinsel and Dinky found him. His body was hurt, but he is healing—slowly. His magic… is empty."
The laughter died instantly.
Petunia didn't wait. She ran—Vernon right behind her, the others following as footsteps thundered up the staircase.
The door to Harry's room flew open.
He lay there, still as marble. His skin pale, his breath shallow. The sheets were crumpled, streaked faintly with dried blood. Small cuts traced his face and arms — half-healed, faintly glowing with residual magic.
For a long second, no one moved.
Petunia's knees hit the floor beside the bed. "What did he do to himself?" she whispered, voice cracking.
Dinky stepped forward, eyes downcast. "Mistress… to know that, you must go to the cliff."
The words barely left her mouth before Vernon, Sirius, Dan, Ted, Percival, Arthur, Edmund, and Bill exchanged one look—And bolted.
They knew.
"Stay with him!" Sirius shouted back over his shoulder as he tore down the hall.
The others followed seconds later, realization dawning as they pieced it together — the project, the exhaustion, the impossible idea.
By the time they reached the cliff, the sea wind was roaring.
And then—silence.
The men who had reached first stood frozen, their faces washed in silver moonlight — disbelief etched into every line. One by one, they sank to their knees, unable to breathe.
The rest arrived moments later, confusion giving way to awe as they followed their gaze.
And then they saw it.
Anchored in the moonlit water below, framed against the horizon — a colossal ship. Vast. Immaculate. Gleaming white and silver, its lights glowing like stars upon the sea.
It dwarfed everything — every ship they had ever seen, every human attempt at grandeur.
The world's largest vessel. Built not by nations, not by engineers. But by one boy.
By Harry.
The air trembled with the echo of magic still lingering in the air.
Molly's hand flew to her mouth. Hermione whispered something that sounded like a prayer. Fred and George stood wordless for once, their usual jokes dying in their throats.
Petunia reached the edge last. Her eyes filled before she could stop herself — pride, fear, and grief twisting together.
Sirius froze beside him, his smirk gone, eyes wide and wild with disbelief. "Bloody—hell…" His voice trailed off, the curse dying somewhere in his throat.
Before them — stretching across the dark sea like something torn out of a dream — was a ship.
Not a ship, a city.
"The Nexus Icon," the name gleamed in molten gold across its bow, the letters so enormous they seemed carved into the ocean itself. Light spilled from a thousand decks, each one lined with glass and steel that shimmered like diamond under the moon.
Amaryllis Parkinson staggered forward a step, clutching Percival's arm as though to steady herself. "That's… impossible," she whispered. "No one could—"
Percival didn't answer. His eyes were locked on the leviathan in the water, his calculating mind breaking apart, rebuilding, and breaking again under the sheer impossibility of it. His lips moved once. "In two days?"
Vernon turned to Sirius, his face ashen. "He made that, didn't he?"
Sirius's throat bobbed. "Aye," he murmured hoarsely. "Every bolt. Every panel. Every bloody inch."
Arthur was the next to sink to his knees. "He outbuilt every Muggle nation combined," he whispered, his voice thick with awe and fear. "Merlin help us… he built the future."
Behind them, Dan Granger stood frozen, his rational mind screaming for sense where none existed. Emma pressed a hand to her lips, her eyes glistening. "He's just a boy," she breathed. "How could any boy…?"
Ted Tonks shook his head slowly, his voice low and unsteady. "That's not a boy," he said. "That's a force of nature."
Andromeda said nothing. Her sharp eyes were wet, her expression unreadable — admiration, fear, and something else, something like reverence.
Among the younger ones, silence reigned for several heartbeats. Then, a whisper — Pansy's voice, thin, trembling despite herself. "He did this?"
Daphne nodded faintly, her lips parted, unable to look away. "He did." Her voice was hushed, reverent. "By himself."
Astoria, standing beside her sister, clutched the edge of her coat. "It's beautiful," she whispered — half in awe, half in disbelief. "It feels alive."
Luna tilted her head, eyes wide and bright as the lights reflecting on the waves. "It's singing," she said dreamily. "Can't you hear it? His magic. It's still humming."
Ginny was staring at the ship like she was seeing him — Harry — for the first time. Her lips trembled as she whispered, "He really is mad." Then softer, almost proud, "Mad and brilliant."
Hermione didn't speak. Her mind was spinning — numbers, scale, magic, time — and none of it fit. She could only stand there, trembling, staring at the impossible evidence of what one human could do when the limits broke.
Molly's hand was pressed tightly to her chest. "He could've died," she whispered to Arthur. "He pushed himself this far—alone?"
Arthur nodded, eyes wet. "He did."
Up front, Sirius finally exhaled a shaky breath, his usual swagger stripped away. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, unable to tear his gaze away. "That's my godson," he said softly. "And Merlin save us all — he's just getting started."
Arthur Weasley stumbled forward a few steps, shaking his head violently, whispering as though denying a nightmare. "That's… impossible. Even a hundred wizards couldn't… Merlin, even Dumbledore couldn't—"
Percival Parkinson cut him off, his voice hoarse. "He didn't just build it. He designed it. Every inch." He stared at the massive ship, his usual composure cracking. "In two bloody days. Do you even understand what that means?"
Ted Tonks swallowed hard, his face pale. "If he can build something like that," he muttered, "what else could he do if he ever decided to stop holding back?"
Petunia's lips twitched, her voice quiet, raw. "I don't want to know."
Behind them, Dan Granger stared blankly, his logical mind cracking under the sheer impossibility of what stood before him. Emma clung to his arm, whispering, "He's just a child, Dan. A child."
Abigail stepped forward, her expression unreadable — awe, fear, and something that looked almost like heartbreak. "And this is him trying to help," she murmured. "He did this for us."
The others turned to her, hollow-eyed, trembling.
She met their gazes, voice quiet but heavy. "Now imagine what happens if the world ever turns on him."
The words hit like a curse.
A gust of wind roared off the sea, tearing through their coats and hair. Beneath them, The Nexus Icon glowed brighter, its hull shimmering with power — and for one dreadful moment, every single person on that cliff understood something cold and absolute:
Harry Potter wasn't their savior.
He was the balance.
If he ever broke — the world would follow.
And as they stood there, staring down at the impossible ship glowing in the black sea, each of them — from the youngest to the oldest — felt the same thing crawl up their spine.
Awe.
And a cold, perfect fear.
The hallway outside Harry's room was silent, save for hushed whispers and the occasional stifled gasp from the Nexus group. They had walked back in near reverence, still reeling from the Nexus Icon, each step heavy with disbelief.
And then… they heard it.
"Ugh! Bloody hell, Harry Potter, what did you do to yourself this time?"
It was a groan, muffled but unmistakable.
"Think, think, think… Mum's gonna kill me if she finds me like this…"
Abigail blinked. "Is he… talking to himself?"
"Yep," Ginny muttered. "And apparently scolding himself."
Inside the room, Harry was stirring on his bed, tangled in sheets, one arm flung over his face. His bare chest rose and fell with an exaggerated sigh. "No, no, no… that's way too much excitement. Way too much. I should never have gotten carried away with that damned ship."
Pansy, peeking from the doorway, whispered to Abigail, "I can't believe… he just created a that monster of a ship, and now he's whining about it like a toddler."
"Shush," Hermione hissed, trying not to laugh. "Just… let him calm down."
Harry groaned again, sitting up slightly and clutching his head. "Ow… magical core nearly empty. Bloody brilliant idea, that. Brilliant. Genius. Idiot. All of the above…"
"And where the bloody hell is that potion Professor Snape gave me? The one for magical energy recovery?!" he yelled, flopping back into the bed. "Right, right, don't panic… it's probably on my desk somewhere. If it's not, then Merlin help me."
He paused for dramatic effect, then muttered, "I can't believe I got this excited over a damn ship. I'm twelve… and I act like a maniac."
Outside the door, the group was silent for a moment, listening. Slowly, soft chuckles began to ripple through the hallway.
"Is it just me, or is he… adorable when he's scolding himself?" Ginny whispered, suppressing a grin.
"He's human," Sirius said quietly, arms crossed, smirking despite himself. "Even if he is a walking catastrophe with magical powers."
Fred and George snorted almost simultaneously. "Human? That kid just made a ship bigger than anything we've ever seen in two days! Adorable's not the word."
"Still… he's mumbling like a little kid right now," Daphne whispered. "I can't stop smiling."
Meanwhile, Harry groaned again, twisting in the sheets. "Right… potion. Check magical reserves. Don't pass out. Mum's gonna kill me… and Dad would've smacked me upside the head for losing my wits. Bloody hell…"
The hallway erupted in quiet laughter as the group watched their supremely powerful, supremely reckless twelve-year-old genius slowly wake up, exhausted, bruised, and ridiculously human.
And for the first time since seeing the Nexus Icon, they felt… a strange, warm relief.
Yes, Harry Potter could craft impossible things, bend magic beyond reason, and terrify the very air around him.
But in that moment, he was just their kid, talking to himself, worrying about his mum, and hunting a potion like any twelve-year-old might chase a chocolate bar.
Inside the room, Harry was still muttering under his breath, his hair sticking out wildly in every direction. "Next time—limit myself to half a ship. Maybe a yacht. Or a canoe. Canoes are safe. Canoes don't drain your soul."
Sirius couldn't hold it anymore. He pushed the door open with a grin. "So, you've finally decided to rejoin the living, Captain Overkill?"
Harry blinked, then squinted at the doorway. His tired eyes focused, and his expression shifted instantly—from confusion to sheepish recognition. "…Sirius?"
"In the flesh," Sirius said, strolling in like he owned the place. "And I'd say barely in one piece, judging by the state of your magic. What were you thinking?"
Harry groaned. "That I should never have skipped breakfast before creating an entire ship."
Behind Sirius, the rest of the group spilled quietly into the room. Petunia was first—eyes shining, relief breaking across her face as she saw him sitting up. She moved to his side immediately, brushing the hair from his forehead.
"Don't you ever scare me like that again," she whispered, voice trembling. "Do you understand me?"
Harry smiled weakly. "I understand, Mum. No fainting from magical exhaustion next time. Scout's honor."
Petunia gave him a look that could melt steel. "I mean it."
He reached out, squeezing her hand gently. "I know. I'm sorry. I just… wanted to finish it."
Arthur stepped closer, still looking half-stunned. "Harry," he said quietly, "that ship—what you built—how—?"
Harry shrugged, the gesture painfully casual for what he'd done. "Magic plus memory. I'd memorized every inch of that cruise we were on. Built a replica, just… bigger. A few enhancements here and there. The engines were tricky, though."
"The engines," Percival said faintly, looking like he might faint himself. "He says it like he built a toy boat."
Fred leaned toward George. "I bet he did the entire thing shirtless too."
George nodded sagely. "Very on brand."
Petunia shot both twins a death glare, and they immediately went silent, trying to hide their grins.
Harry sighed. "Look, I might've gone a little overboard—no pun intended—but it's done. And honestly, it feels… right. The Nexus needed a flagship. Something that represents what we can do."
Sirius crossed his arms, pretending to scowl. "You nearly drained yourself dry, pup. You know what happens when you run your core empty?"
Harry smirked. "Yeah. You show off a little too much and then sleep for sixteen hours straight."
Sirius's glare cracked into a reluctant grin. "Merlin help me, you're impossible."
Molly Weasley stepped forward next, eyes watery but smiling nonetheless. "You scared the life out of us, dear," she said softly, smoothing his hair as if he were one of her own. "But I suppose if you're well enough to be cheeky, you'll live."
Harry grinned tiredly. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."
Hermione, still clutching a book she hadn't realized she'd brought, finally found her voice. "Harry, you understand what this means, don't you? You've essentially rewritten magical construction theory. What you did—it's never been—"
He interrupted with a lopsided grin. "Hermione, I nearly blew myself up twice during the process. Let's not canonize me just yet."
That earned another ripple of laughter. Even Percy cracked a faint smile.
Petunia, though, never stopped holding his hand. "You're not allowed to do that again," she said quietly.
Harry met her eyes, his expression softening. "I promise I'll be more careful next time."
"Next time?" Vernon bellowed from the back.
Harry's grin widened. "Figure of speech."
The laughter that followed broke the last of the tension. The air, once heavy with fear and awe, warmed again — full of life, sound, and small smiles.
Sirius leaned against the wall, watching as everyone fussed over Harry — Molly checking for injuries, Hermione scribbling notes already, Fred and George whispering about "Nexus Icon" as a brand name. He caught Petunia's eye and nodded slightly.
"He's fine," Sirius mouthed.
She nodded back, blinking away a tear.
Outside, the night wind brushed against the glass, carrying with it the faint, steady hum of magic from the sea — from the impossible ship floating below.
Harry glanced toward the window, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he murmured.
Sirius followed his gaze, smirking faintly. "She is. You did good, kid."
The group circled him, still trying to process the enormity of the ship below. Bill stepped closer, voice low but incredulous. "Harry… give us the specs. Tell us what we're actually looking at here."
Harry ran a hand over his face, exhausted but animated. "Okay… brace yourselves."
He gestured toward the moonlit silhouette on the water. "It has a full-size casino—like the one on the cruise we were on, only bigger. Way bigger. There are about seven thousand rooms and suites combined. With common areas, restaurants, entertainment halls…" He paused, blinking, then added quietly, "…it can host roughly ten thousand people at a time."
Percival's jaw dropped. "Ten thousand?"
"Exactly," Harry said, voice tight with fatigue and excitement. "And the wards… I layered them so thoroughly that even a tsunami wouldn't touch it. Nothing—no magical surge, no natural disaster—can get past them."
Bill's brow furrowed. "And the ship runs normally? Electricity, engines, everything?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. But magic interferes with electricity if it's too close. So I made the wards in a sphere around the ship. Picture this: the ship is the center, and the wards form a protective ellipse about a hundred meters out. They cocoon the ship, shielding it while letting all systems inside function perfectly."
The group was silent for a moment, letting the sheer magnitude of that sink in. Bill finally spoke, voice low. "You did all of this… alone?"
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, a faint grimace on his pale face. "Yes… but I'm done touching it for now. My magical core is… near empty. I blacked out while working on the skeleton. I went too far, got too carried away… if I try to push it again now, it'll be disastrous. I need a break."
Bill chuckled, shaking his head. "We'll handle it. Just make sure you get some rest, Harry. The ship can wait a little while longer, but you can't keep breaking yourself like this."
"Yeah don't worry, I know. I have other things I need to take care off." Harry replied. "Theoretical," he added as he saw Petunia's eyes.
"Oh that reminds me." Harry said as he took out his subspace pouch and pulled out a black diary. "This... here is basically a sort of diary but not a diary."
He handed the book to Sirius, "You guys should look into it, might find useful spells and such in this. It contains all the spells I have created so far."
Sirius blinked. "That's your personal research, Harry."
Harry shook his head. "That's not personal. It's just a way to pass my time. I have already shared these with the professors at Hogwarts. Now I'm giving it to Nexus."
He leaned back, eyelids heavy. "Just don't burn the house down."
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The Dursley Mansion had never looked—or sounded—like this. Sunlight spilled through tall windows, refracted and bent by spells that shouldn't have worked but somehow did. Books floated midair, quills wrote by themselves in perfect calligraphy, and a stack of parchment was shuffling itself with bureaucratic precision, each sheet aligning by length and topic as if obeying invisible clerks.
The living room had become a laboratory of wonder and barely contained chaos.
Sirius sat on a chair, wand in his hand, reading a copy of Harry's diary. "Bloody Merlin, this kid is mad..."
Everyone else nodded in agreement as they too were engrossed in reading copies of Harry's diary.
Adorable Greengrass was the first to speak— her voice quiet , almost reverent.
"I thought this would be filled with... childish experimentation."
It wasn't.
Across the page were diagrams so intricate they looked almost mechanical—layer upon layer of runes interwoven with formulae that merged arithmancy, spatial theory, and raw willcraft. Every spell was complete. Structured. Tested.
Percival leaned over, brow furrowed. "This... this one here, he's made a spell to stabilise a temporal stasis field. A field small enough to freeze small area and there is another spell to to freeze areas as large as a big hall. All without affecting air around or in it. That's... that's not magic. That's control of magic."
Edmund raised his wand towards the fireplace, and casted the spell. "Tempus Stillare — Minima."
The fire in the fireplace froze immediately. It was still in time, as if it was a picture but the heat from the fireplace was still present. No light dimmed.
Amaryllis stared. "It's impossible. Temporal magic itself is supposed to be just a theory, not practical..."
"Not for him," murmured Vernon. His voice was quiet but strained. "He's compressing entire matrices into the spell itself."
Hermione swallowed, flipping the page. Her voice trembled slightly."These aren't notes. They're… blueprints. Fully functional constructs."
Next to her, Andromeda Tonks scanned a paragraph filled with annotations and test results. "He's even measured magical strain on the wand core. He knows exactly how far each material can be pushed before fracture."
No one responded.
Pandora traced her fingers over another page, the one that had the spell to create three dimensional holograms of anything. "He's crossed boundaries that most of us wouldn't even think to touch. This isn't invention. It's evolution."
Adorabella's voice was tight. "Or deviation."
Vernon finally muttered, "I don't know whether I should be proud of my son... or scared of him."
Petunia, standing by the window, "He doesn't think like us. He never did."
Ron flipped to a page and froze. At the bottom, in Harry's handwriting, was one line. Barely legible.
"Why do they keep putting limits on magic? Isn't the whole point of magic to defy the limits of everything else?"
The others seemed to have arrived at the same page as well.
No one moved. No one breathed.
Andromeda was the first to whisper, "He's rejecting magical law."
Daphne shook her head slowly. "No… not just law. The foundation. Every theory, every restriction, every safety structure built into spellcraft—he's questioning the need for them at all."
Percy's eyes darkened. "Do you understand what that means? Every rule in arithmancy, every stabilizing constant in casting... it's there to keep castor from tearing themselves apart. And he is questioning them."
"It's a dangerous one," Andromeda said sharply. "Because what happens when someone who can defy limits decides that limits are meaningless?"
No one had an answer.
Sirius finally broke the silence, voice low, haunted. "You know what Dumbledore once said about him? That Harry doesn't just use magic—he redefines it."
He looked around the table. "But I don't think even Dumbledore realized how literal that was."