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The cottage garden looked different at four in the morning, all silver shadows and dew that turned spider webs into jewelry displays. Harry had woken to a sound like someone trying to negotiate with gravity and losing, followed by what was definitely cursing in Royal Sea Horse—which apparently translated to something about barnacles in uncomfortable places.
He found Crystal-Harmony clinging to the garden fence like it was the only solid thing in a world gone vertical. Her hair hung in wild tangles, still damp from what must have been multiple attempts at standing. The nightgown Andromeda had lent her was grass-stained at the knees.
"You know," Harry said, careful to keep his voice gentle, "most people wait until the sun's actually up before they start fighting inanimate objects."
She turned toward him, and even in the pre-dawn dimness, he could see her frustrated tears. "Beds are evil. They're too soft but also too firm, and they don't move with breathing like proper sleeping spots should."
"So you decided to practice walking alone? In the dark?"
"I wanted to see if I could do it. Without help." She gestured at her legs with the kind of disgust usually reserved for particularly offensive potions ingredients. "These stupid things barely work even with support."
Harry moved closer, not quite touching but near enough to catch her if needed. The fence creaked under her death grip. "How long have you been out here?"
"Everything feels different here, usually currents tell us the time, and the sun, but there are no currents here." She attempted a step, and her knee immediately buckled. Harry caught her elbow, steadying her against the fence. "Maybe an hour? The stars kept changing position, which is apparently something they do up here."
From the garden shed came the sound of what might charitably be called snoring but sounded more like drowning walruses. Crystal-Harmony's guards had discovered that lying flat was the safest sleeping position, resulting in a pile of warriors that occasionally twitched when someone's new legs remembered they existed.
"Want to see something better than stars?" Harry asked.
Crystal-Harmony looked skeptical. "Better than stars that don't wobble?"
"Trust me."
He helped her to the garden bench—she only fell twice, which was progress—and they settled facing east. The horizon was just starting to lighten, a barely-there suggestion of color against the black.
"What are we watching?" Crystal-Harmony asked, unconsciously leaning against him for warmth. The morning air had a bite that probably felt alien to someone used to mostly consistent water temperature.
"Wait for it."
The sky began its show slowly, like an artist testing colors. First came purple, seeping up from the horizon like spilled wine. Then orange, tentative at first, growing bolder as it spread. The clouds caught fire, looking like the sky was celebrating.
Crystal-Harmony stopped breathing.
"Oh," she whispered, and in that single word was wonder and loss and something Harry couldn't quite name.
The sun appeared, a sliver of gold that grew into something almost violent in its beauty. Light exploded across the garden, turning dew into diamonds, making every leaf shine like it had been polished. The world transformed from monochrome mystery to overwhelming color.
"We have light underwater," Crystal-Harmony said, her voice thick. "But it's always filtered, always gentle. This is..." She gestured helplessly at the sky, now painted many different colors. "It's like the water catches fire every morning."
"Every morning," Harry confirmed. "Never quite the same twice."
She was crying, Harry realized. Not the frustrated tears from earlier, but something quieter. "I understand now," she said. "Why you surface dwellers build everything facing the sky. You're all in love with this violence of light."
"Is it too much?"
"Yes." She didn't look away. "But I don't want it to stop."
They sat in silence as the sunrise finished its performance, the sky settling into normal morning blue. In the growing light, Harry could see the marks on Crystal-Harmony's legs from her falls, purple bruises that looked painful. He pulled out his wand, murmuring a simple healing spell he'd learned from Andromeda. The bruises faded, and she smiled at him as the pain ebbed away.
"Thank you," she said softly, then looked back at the horizon. "Meeting you again is one of the reasons I came here."
Harry's pulse quickened slightly. "What's the other reason?"
Crystal-Harmony was quiet for a moment. "Do you remember how I was treated when you first arrived in Abyssantica?"
Harry winced, remembering the mocking whispers, the way some RSH had made cruel comments about her inability to perform basic water magic. The noble youth who'd taunted her about being 'more human than RSH' still made his jaw clench.
"I remember," he said quietly.
"Since I was small, since I knew anything at all, they called me names. Half-thing. Land-touched. Broken." She traced patterns on her knee, her fingers unconsciously forming ice crystals that melted immediately in the morning warmth. "My scales were wrong, my face too human, my magic non-existent. At least, the magic that mattered to them."
"Crystal—"
"I was always fascinated by the surface," she continued. "The stories, the few books we had, descriptions from traders. Part of me wondered if maybe I looked this way because I was meant to be here. But I was afraid." She looked at him. "Then I met you. You were brave about being different. You didn't hide what you could do, even when it made you stand out."
"I hide plenty," Harry said.
"But not the important things. Not who you are." She created another small ice crystal, watching it catch the morning light. "You taught me to be brave about my differences. Even if I still can't do water magic, I have this." The ice crystal grew into a delicate flower. "So I came here wondering... maybe part of me belongs to the land. Maybe that's why I've always been caught between."
"What do you think now?" Harry asked carefully.
She looked down at her legs, still alien to her, still barely functional. Then at the garden where her guards were attempting to understand the concept of standing upright. Then at the sunrise painting everything gold.
"I don't know," she admitted. "Everything here is beautiful and terrible and overwhelming. My body rebels against it, but my heart..." She touched her chest. "My heart feels something. Recognition, maybe? Or just wonder at finally seeing what I'd only imagined."
"You've only been here a few hours," Harry pointed out.
"True." She managed a small smile. "I have time to decide. Eight more hours, at least."
"Eleven, actually."
"Eleven hours to figure out where I belong?" She laughed, though it had an edge.
"You don't have to figure it all out today," Harry said. "You can come back."
"The transformation gets harder each time. The healers said—"
"I know. But that's future worry. Today is about discovery."
Crystal-Harmony nodded, then attempted to stand on her own. She made it three seconds before wobbling, and Harry caught her arm.
"Whether I belong here or not," she said, leaning against him for balance, "I'm glad I came. Glad I was brave enough to try."
"Me too," Harry said, meaning it completely.
A tremendous crash from the garden shed interrupted them. Reef-Shield had apparently attempted morning patrol and discovered that the garden hose was not, in fact, a sea serpent.
"Though your guards might have different opinions," Harry added.
Crystal-Harmony giggled as Current-Dancer walked directly into the birdbath with a splash. "They came because they're loyal. But also because they were curious too. We all wonder, those of us who don't quite fit the mold."
"Then let's show them wonders," Harry said. "Starting with breakfast, though I should warn you—Ted's cooking is its own kind of adventure."
"After transforming my entire body structure?" Crystal-Harmony managed two full steps before needing support again. "How terrifying could breakfast be?"
From inside the cottage came the sound of something catching fire and Ted's cheerful "That's probably fine!"
"You're about to find out," Harry said, and helped her wobble toward what would undoubtedly be a memorable meal.
The sun was properly up now, birds beginning their morning arguments about territory and breakfast. Crystal-Harmony watched them with deep suspicion, clearly still not trusting creatures that moved through air that quickly.
"How do you stand it?" she asked. "All this space above you, just empty. Nothing to push against, nothing to hold you."
"You get used to it. Or you learn to pretend you're used to it." Harry helped her stand, her legs marginally more cooperative in daylight. "Come on. Let's get you inside before Ted starts breakfast. You'll need strength to survive his interpretation of seafood."
"Harry?" She stopped, looking back at the horizon where the sun continued its climb. "Thank you. For showing me this. For being here when I'm..." she gestured at herself, grass-stained and tear-tracked and barely vertical, "whatever this is."
"Beautiful," Harry said without thinking, then immediately wanted to throw himself into the non-existent ocean.
But Crystal-Harmony just smiled, wobbling forward on legs that still didn't quite understand their job. "Thank you...you...youarehandsome, too."
Harry turned red, and he decided not to say anything else for now.
The cottage kitchen looked like someone had declared war on cookware and lost. Ted stood at the stove, wielding a spatula with the determination of someone who'd been personally insulted by fish. Smoke wisped from something that might have once been edible.
"Right," Ted announced to his audience of barely-conscious sea warriors and one deeply skeptical princess. "I've prepared a feast of ocean delicacies!"
Crystal-Harmony, propped between Harry and the doorframe, observed the proceedings with the expression of someone watching a carriage accident happen in slow motion. "Is it supposed to be that color?"
"What color is it?" Ted asked cheerfully.
"Gray. With... purple edges?"
"Ah. No."
Andromeda swept in, took one look at Ted's creation, and vanished it with prejudice. "Perhaps we should start with something simpler. Toast?"
"What's toast?" Crystal-Harmony asked, genuinely curious.
"Bread that we've tortured with fire until it surrenders," Nymphadora supplied, her hair currently matching Crystal-Harmony's golden shade in what was clearly meant as solidarity. "Very British."
Crystal-Harmony accepted a piece of properly prepared toast. She bit into it, chewed thoughtfully, and Harry watched her face journey through confusion, mild alarm, and finally polite acceptance.
"It's... crunchy," she managed. "Food isn't supposed to make noise."
"Wait until you try crisps," Harry said.
"Food makes lots of sounds up here," Nymphadora said, demonstrating by biting into an apple with excessive enthusiasm. "Crunch, crack, pop—"
"Breakfast sounds like battle," Tide-Swimmer observed from his position on the floor. He'd given up on chairs after his third tumble. "Very surface world."
Current-Dancer had discovered jam and was eating it directly from the jar with a expression of religious revelation. "This is acceptable," he declared. "The fruit has been convinced to become better."
"That's not how you're supposed to—" Andromeda started, then gave up. "Never mind. At least someone's eating."
"What do you normally eat?" Nymphadora asked Crystal-Harmony, who was still negotiating with her toast.
"Different varieties of fish, mostly. Moon-fish when we can catch them—they glow silver and taste amazing. Kelp salads that dance while you eat them. Coral fruits that change flavor as you chew." She looked wistfully at the mundane toast. "And sweet water, of course."
"Sweet water?" Ted perked up. "Like sugar water?"
"No, it's... magical. It comes from springs near volcanic vents where the minerals create natural sweetness." She sighed. "Everything here tastes so... definite. Your food doesn't transform or surprise you."
"Oh, Ted's cooking surprises everyone," Andromeda said dryly.
Nymphadora had been concentrating, and suddenly her features shifted into something vaguely fish-like—bulging eyes, pursed lips, and what might have been an attempt at gills. "Look! I'm a sea creature!"
Crystal-Harmony giggled. "You look like a guppy having an existential crisis."
"That's the look I was going for!" Nymphadora shifted back, grinning. "Can Royal Sea Horses do that? Change appearances?"
"We have one...Pattern-Shifter. But he can only change his sea horse features to mimic others of our people. He once spent three days pretending to be my father to avoid a boring ceremony." Crystal-Harmony smiled at the memory. "Father was not amused when he found out he'd been represented by someone who spent the entire diplomatic meeting making fish puns."
"I like him already," Ted declared, then presented a new plate. "Aha! Success! Proper fish this time!"
The fish was actually recognizable as fish, though it bore the distinctive marks of Ted's cooking philosophy: when in doubt, add more butter.
Storm-Rider bravely took a piece, chewed carefully, and announced, "It tastes of victory over our food enemies."
"He means it's overcooked," Reef-Shield translated, though he was already reaching for seconds.
Crystal-Harmony managed half a piece before setting it down. Harry noticed how she didn't complain, just quietly pushed food around her plate. Her politeness was painful to watch.
"Tea?" Andromeda offered, and Crystal-Harmony accepted the cup with curiosity.
The first sip made her eyes widen. "It's hot! Why would you heat water and then put leaves in it?"
"Other way around, usually," Harry said. "And wait until you find out about coffee."
"Surface dwellers are obsessed with temperature," she decided, but she took another sip. "Though this is... not unpleasant. Like drinking a warm hug."
"That's the best description of tea I've ever heard," Andromeda said, pleased.
"So," Ted said, settling at the table with his own thoroughly burnt offering, "what's the plan for Princess Crystal-Harmony's first full day on legs?"
"Market first," Harry said. "She needs to try chocolate."
"Chocolate?" Crystal-Harmony perked up. "You mentioned that yesterday."
"Trust me, it'll change your life."
"Then the gardens," Nymphadora added. "There's that fountain that does the light show at noon."
"More lights?" Crystal-Harmony looked uncertain. "The sunrise was already so much."
"Different kind. Gentler. Like captured rainbows."
"Rainbows exist?" Crystal-Harmony's eyes widened. "I thought those were just in stories!"
Everyone exchanged glances. There was so much she'd never seen.
"Beach this afternoon," Harry continued. "You can be partially in water while still experiencing sand properly."
"Sand is evil," Current-Dancer announced. "It pretends to be solid then betrays you."
"Everything up here betrays you," Tide-Swimmer agreed mournfully. "Except the jam. Jam is trustworthy."
"And tonight," Andromeda said carefully, "the ball."
Crystal-Harmony's expression fell slightly. "Right. Where I'll sit in a chair watching everyone dance on their functioning legs."
"Where you'll be the most interesting person there," Harry corrected. "A princess from an underwater kingdom? Everyone will want to meet you."
"To stare at me, you mean."
"That too," Harry admitted. "But if anyone's rude, Itisa will accidentally knock wine on them."
From her perch on the windowsill, Itisa made a sound of agreement that was far too gleeful.
"Eleven hours," Crystal-Harmony said quietly, looking at the clock. "We're already down to eleven hours."
"Then we'd better get started," Harry said, standing and offering her his arm. "The market awaits, and I promise the chocolate will be worth the walking."
Crystal-Harmony took his arm, wobbling upright with determination that would've made any Gryffindor proud. "If I fall face-first into a chocolate display, you're explaining it to my father."
"Deal."
Harry guided Crystal-Harmony through the shimmer-ward, her death grip on his arm cutting off circulation he hadn't realized he'd valued until now.
"Ready?" he asked, though the question was mostly ceremonial. She'd been wobbling with determination all morning, each step a small war against gravity.
"No," she said cheerfully, then stepped through.
The market exploded around them—not literally, though given Ted's breakfast attempts, Harry wouldn't have been entirely surprised. Vendors hawked their wares in three languages and what might have been interpretive dance. Floating lanterns bobbed overhead despite the morning sun, casting shadows that moved independently of their sources. The air tasted of cinnamon and possibility and something that was definitely not legal in Britain.
Crystal-Harmony made a sound like a cat being introduced to calculus.
"Too much?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer. Her pupils had dilated to the point where her eyes looked more black than blue.
"There's so many—they're all—the smells are attacking me."
Behind them, the guards emerged through the ward in what could generously be called formation. Reef-Shield walked directly into a display of singing turnips, apologized to them individually, then declared the vegetables "secured." Current-Dancer had discovered that walking backward still worked better for him, which meant he was navigating by watching where they'd been rather than where they were going. It was about as effective as expected.
The crowd pressed closer, and Crystal-Harmony's breathing went shallow. Too many people, too much noise, air that felt thick with competing perfumes and spices. Harry could feel her trembling against his arm—not from her uncooperative legs this time, but from pure sensory overload.
A child darted past, chasing what looked like an escaped pastry, and Crystal-Harmony startled. Ice erupted from her hands without warning, creating a small frozen sculpture of what appeared to be her personal anxiety given form. Several nearby shoppers applauded, assuming it was intentional.
"Sorry, sorry!" She tried to bow, forgot her legs didn't bend that way yet, and would have face-planted into a display of color-changing scarves if Harry hadn't hauled her upright.
"Performance art," Harry announced to their impromptu audience. "Very avant-garde."
An elderly witch selling what claimed to be "artisanal moonbeams" leaned over her counter. "Oh, you're the underwater princess! I heard about you from my cousin's wife's nephew who works at the Ministry. Is it true you can breathe through your skin?"
"I—what? No, I—"
"Can you command all fish?"
"That's not how—"
"Do you have gills hidden somewhere?"
Crystal-Harmony looked at Harry with the expression of someone who'd just discovered that hell was, in fact, other people asking invasive questions.
"She commands respect and personal space," Harry said firmly, guiding her away from the increasingly curious crowd.
They ducked into a quieter section where a man who looked like he'd been carved from driftwood sold various candies. His eyes were kind, his smile gap-toothed and genuine.
"First time on land?" he asked Crystal-Harmony gently.
She nodded, still overwhelmed.
"Then you need this." He handed her something wrapped in silver paper. "Chocolate. But not just any chocolate."
Harry watched her unwrap it as if he was unwrapping an ancient artifact. The first bite made her eyes close completely, and the sound she made was... well, Harry filed it away in the same mental category as her reaction to salt water, marked 'do not think about in public.'
"It's like... sunset. But you can taste it. And it's happy?" She looked at the vendor with something approaching worship. "How?"
"Magic," he said simply, then winked at Harry. "And a bit of Swiss technique."
Storm-Rider had found the chocolate samples and was now having what appeared to be a religious experience. "This brown substance is acceptable!" he declared, already reaching for thirds.
"Please don't let him eat the entire display," Harry told the vendor, passing over what he hoped was enough gold.
They wandered deeper into the market, Crystal-Harmony clinging to him like he was the only stable point in a spinning world. Her wonder at everything was infectious—she spent five minutes examining lettuce ("It just sits there! Watching!"), had a philosophical discussion with Tide-Swimmer about whether carrots were roots or very patient fish, and nearly cried when she discovered flowers were sold for decoration rather than food.
"But they're so still," she kept saying about everything. "Nothing moves properly here."
A vendor selling exotic teas took pity on their obvious tourist status and offered samples in tiny cups that refilled themselves. Crystal-Harmony discovered mint tea and made sounds usually associated with finding enlightenment.
The guards had formed what they probably thought was a protective circle but looked more like an interpretive dance about the dangers of gravity. One woman selling hand-knit sweaters watched them with the fascination usually reserved for particularly ambitious performance art.
"Are they all right?" she asked Harry.
"They're elite warriors," Harry said with a completely straight face.
"Elite at what?"
"Commitment to the bit."
Crystal-Harmony had discovered bread—real, fresh bread—and was holding a baguette like it was a sacred artifact. "It's crunchy outside but soft inside. It's architectural?"
"It's French," the baker said proudly. "We have philosophies about our bread."
"Food philosophy," Crystal-Harmony murmured. "Surface dwellers are all insane in the most delightful ways."
Harry felt her starting to flag, her legs shaking more with exhaustion than inexperience now. They'd been walking for almost an hour, and she'd started listing to the left like a ship taking on water.
"One more stop," he promised, leading her to a stall that sold flowers made of spun sugar.
"They're flowers you can eat?" Crystal-Harmony's delight was worth the crowd, the chaos, everything. "But you said flowers were just for looking at!"
"These are both," Harry explained, buying her a rose that sparkled like crystal. "Multi-purpose flowers."
She bit into it, and her expression went through approximately seventeen emotions before settling on amazement. "It tastes like happiness?"
"That's sugar for you."
"I need to take some back for Father. He won't believe any of this." She looked around the market, at the controlled chaos of commerce and community. "How do you stand it? All these people, all this noise?"
"Same way you stand the pressure underwater," Harry said. "You grow into it."
She nodded, then swayed alarmingly. "I think... I think I need to not be vertical for a while."
Harry caught her as her legs finally gave up pretending they knew their job. Behind them, Reef-Shield had gotten into an argument with a butterfly and was losing.
"Garden?" Harry suggested.
"Garden," she agreed, then added in a smaller voice, "Harry? Everything here is wonderful and terrible and I don't understand any of it, but... thank you."
"For what?"
"For catching me. Every single time."
Harry helped her toward the market exit, trying not to think about how in a few hours, she'd slip back into the sea and he'd have empty arms and the ghost of her weight against his side.
The Jardin Botanique's magical section existed in a bubble of tranquility that felt like borrowed time—which, Harry supposed, was appropriate given their countdown. Crystal-Harmony collapsed onto the edge of the fountain with a graceless thud.
"Seven hours," she said, watching the enchanted water swirl in patterns that probably meant something to someone. "We're down to seven."
Harry sat beside her, careful to leave enough space that she didn't feel crowded. "We can slow down. Rest as long as you need."
"Resting is wasting." But she slipped off the sandals Andromeda had given her and let her feet dangle in the fountain. The sigh she made suggested this was the first thing that had made sense all day.
The garden was empty except for them and a few magical butterflies that couldn't decide what color they wanted to be.
"This helps," Crystal-Harmony said, wiggling her toes in the water. "It's not salt, but it's... something." She created small ice crystals in the fountain, watching them spiral and dissolve. "I can think better when part of me is in water. Even if it's just feet."
"Very rebellious feet," Harry noted. "They've been complaining all morning."
"Everything complains here. Even the vegetables had opinions." She leaned back on her hands, looking up at the sky through the garden's canopy. "Tell me about Hogwarts. You've mentioned it, but what's it really like?"
Harry blinked at the change of subject. "It's... complicated. Ancient castle, moving staircases, ghosts who gossip more than students."
"But your friends," Crystal-Harmony pressed, pulling her feet from the water. "Who are they? What are they like?"
Harry found himself smiling. "Well, there's Hermione. She's brilliant—reads everything, remembers everything, corrects everyone's pronunciation. She'd probably have seventeen questions about your ice magic and take notes."
"She sounds intense."
"She is. But she's also the first person to stand by you when things get dangerous." Harry said, remembering how much she wanted to find out who was attacking the students last year. "Then there's Neville. He's quiet, thinks he's not brave, but he sometimes stands up against multiple people."
"That takes courage," Crystal-Harmony observed, creating small ice patterns in her palm.
"There's Susan—she's kind, always knows the right thing to say. And Daphne, who pretends to be all proper pureblood but secretly helps first-years with their homework." Harry's smile grew. "The Weasley twins are chaos incarnate. They'd probably try to figure out how to prank underwater."
"They sound wonderful." Crystal-Harmony's voice had gone thoughtful. "Do you ever think about going somewhere else? Somewhere that might be... easier?"
Harry hesitated. He'd been thinking about Beauxbatons more and more—better resources, advanced programs, Fleur's descriptions of their innovations. "Sometimes. There are other schools with better... opportunities."
"But?"
"But they wouldn't have my friends." The truth of it settled in his chest. "Hermione arguing about homework, Neville sharing his plant discoveries, Susan's quiet support, even the twins' ridiculous pranks. That's... that's home."
Crystal-Harmony turned the ice rose in her hands, watching light refract through it. "You know what I miss most about Abyssantica when I'm here? Not the water or the magic or even being able to move properly. It's my father. Battle-Storm helping me with Ice Magic despite not being able to do it himself. The little things that make a place yours."
"Yeah," Harry said softly. Which one was more important? His Friends? Or His Future?
If he chose Hogwarts, he would have his friends, but that also meant having to deal with Minister Fudge and his lot.
If he chose Beauxbatons, sure, he would have better tools, and Minister Delacour would be willing to fund him to create everything he wanted, but this country is not his country; besides Fleur and her family, he does not know anyone else. He would have to make new friends, friends who might see him as the Talisman Prodigy.
Footsteps on the garden path made them both turn. Andromeda approached with an expression that suggested news.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said gently, "but Fleur Delacour has arrived. She'd like to speak with both of you."
Crystal-Harmony stiffened slightly. "The Minister's daughter?"
"The very same," Andromeda confirmed. "She's waiting in the rose garden. Something about the ball tonight and proper preparations."
Harry felt Crystal-Harmony withdraw even before she moved, pulling her feet from the fountain and struggling with her sandals.
"Of course," she said, voice perfectly pleasant. "We should go meet your friend."
The way she said 'friend' suggested several other words she'd considered first.
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