Harry Potter with Technology System

Harry realized he needed a bigger, more impactful tactic to reach Petunia. He decided to create a scrapbook of his parents' memories, hoping it would stir Petunia's emotions and make her more receptive. He spent hours painstakingly putting together pictures and anecdotes, some real and some fabricated, to paint a picture of Lily and James Potter – not as a witch and a wizard, but as a sister, a daughter, a friend, and a loving couple.

Presenting the scrapbook to Petunia was a gamble. Harry waited for a moment when she seemed in a relatively good mood. "Aunt Petunia, I made this scrapbook about my parents. I thought you might like to see it."

Petunia's initial reaction was to dismiss it, but curiosity got the better of her. As she flipped through the pages, Harry watched her face intently. Her eyes lingered on a photo of Lily laughing, a softness appearing in her gaze. Her fingers traced the edge of the page, a subconscious gesture of longing.

Nigel observed quietly, "You've struck a chord, Master Harry. Now, let's see if we can play a melody."

Encouraged, Harry said, "I always wondered what Mum was like as a sister. You must have had some good times together."

Petunia's guard was down, if only slightly. "She was always the special one, the favorite," she said, her voice laced with a mix of bitterness and sadness. "Always getting attention for her... abilities."

Nigel whispered, "Tread carefully, Harry. You're navigating a minefield of emotions."

Harry nodded, choosing his words with care. "It must have been hard, feeling left out. I feel that way sometimes, being a freak."

Hearing Vernon's derogatory nickname for him echoed in his own voice, Harry saw a sudden change in Petunia's demeanor. Her face, usually a mask of stern disapproval, twisted in a moment of raw emotion. "You are not a freak. She was not a freak!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling slightly. Harry knew immediately who "she" was - Lily. This unexpected defense of her sister and, indirectly, of him, was a significant shift in Petunia's usual attitude.

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Harry analyzed every minute detail of Petunia's reaction. Her eyes, usually cold and detached, now held a spark of something akin to pain. The way her voice hitched when she mentioned Lily, the subtle tremor in her hands as they momentarily paused over the scrapbook, all these were tell-tale signs of deeply buried emotions resurfacing. Even her posture, typically rigid and upright, seemed to sag under the weight of memories long suppressed.

Nigel, observing the scene, offered his insight. "Well, Master Harry, it seems we've struck a nerve. The fortress is not impregnable after all."

However, Petunia's moment of vulnerability was fleeting. She quickly regained her composure, her face hardening once again as she dismissed the subject. "Enough of this, Harry. These are old wounds best left unopened," she said, shutting the scrapbook with a finality that brooked no argument.

Harry, realizing the gravity of the situation, knew he needed a more significant tactic to reach his aunt. He could no longer rely on subtle hints and indirect references. He needed to confront the issue head-on, but with a level of tact and sensitivity that would not alienate Petunia further.

"Perhaps, Aunt Petunia, it's time those wounds were healed," Harry suggested cautiously, watching her reaction closely.

Petunia's response was swift and sharp. "There's nothing to heal, Harry. The past is the past." Her voice was firm, leaving no room for further discussion.

Harry knew he was treading on thin ice. He needed to approach the subject in a way that resonated with Petunia, to make her see him not as the son of James Potter, whom she resented, but as the son of her sister, Lily.

Harry decided to take a step back for a while. Recognizing that pushing too hard might only serve to reinforce Petunia's defenses, he resolved to give her space to process her emotions. This was not a battle to be won in a day, he realized, but a campaign that required patience and careful maneuvering.

In the meantime, Harry turned his attention to the wealth of knowledge he had scanned in Diagon Alley. He entered the library in his mind, an expansive, almost endless room lined with books, each a container of magical lore. The first book he picked up was "A History of Magic." As he read, the words leapt off the page, the history of the wizarding world unfolding before him.

"Ah, delving into the annals of our world, are we? A prudent choice, Master Harry," Nigel's voice echoed in his mind, laced with a dry humor that belied the seriousness of their endeavor. "Remember, knowledge is power, particularly when navigating the murky waters of familial reconciliation."

Harry immersed himself in the book, absorbing the tales of ancient wizards and witches, their triumphs and tragedies. He read about the founding of Hogwarts, the great wizarding wars, and the evolution of magical society. Each story was a piece of a larger puzzle, helping him understand the world he was about to enter.

Nigel's voice often provided context, filling in the gaps with historical tidbits and anecdotes. "Ah, Godric Gryffindor, quite the character. A tad dramatic for my taste, but you can't deny his flair for the heroic."

Harry found the history fascinating, but his thoughts often drifted back to Aunt Petunia. He knew that to reach her, he needed to employ a tactic that resonated with her, something that would make her see him in a new light.

But Harry would wait for her to process her emotions first. Haste made waste. He instead turned his focus to the first-year Charms book of Hogwarts' curriculum, which he had scanned while in Diagon Alley. With this, he planned to expand his repertoire of spells. So far, he only knew two: Scourgify, a cleaning spell, and Muffliato, which, due to Nigel’s mischievous alteration in the description, Harry believed allowed him to control sounds around him as he wished. This, Harry thought, was the beauty of wandless magic – reliant more on intent, making it versatile and powerful.

As he read through the spells, analyzing which ones he needed most, Harry realized the depth of challenge he faced. Without a wand, each spell required a focus and concentration that was both exhausting and exhilarating. He came across spells like Lumos, the light spell, and Nox, its counterpart. Both seemed fundamental, yet Harry knew mastering them wandlessly would be a significant achievement.

"A light spell, Master Harry? Illuminating in more ways than one, I dare say," Nigel commented, his tone dripping with his usual sense of humor. "Remember, the intent is key. Picture the light, become the light."

Harry nodded to himself, absorbing Nigel’s advice. He practiced Lumos, focusing his mind on the concept of light, feeling it build within him before releasing it. The first attempts were unsuccessful, but Harry was not one to give up easily.

Next, he read about Leviosa, the levitation spell. "Ah, levitating objects. A handy skill, though I daresay it won’t lift the weight of your current familial predicament," Nigel quipped.

Harry ignored the sarcasm, concentrating instead on the mechanics of the spell. He practiced on small objects.

Harry knew mastering these spells, especially without a wand, would take time. Lumos, despite its apparent simplicity, demanded a level of concentration and intent that was challenging. The other spells, each with their unique requirements, were even more complex. He was determined, though, understanding that patience was crucial in this journey of learning wandless magic.

As he persisted in his practice, Nigel observed, "Master Harry, your dedication is commendable. But, let us not forget the mind is as important a tool as any spell. It's high time you learned about Occlumency."

"Occlumency?" Harry asked, pausing in his spellwork.

"Yes," Nigel began, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Occlumency is the magical discipline of defending the mind against external penetration and influence. It's about controlling your emotions and thoughts, shielding them from those who might seek to pry or manipulate."

He then said, "It is one of the few defenses against Legilimency. But that is not the only benefit of the art. If you master Occlumency, you will also have an easier time in wandless magic."

Harry, intrigued, leaned in closer. "How so?"

Nigel's voice took on a lecturing tone, "Occlumency, Master Harry, is about controlling your emotions and thoughts, creating a barrier in your mind. It requires a deep understanding of oneself, a kind of mental discipline that's essential for wandless magic. Your intent must be clear, free of distractions and emotional turbulence. It's a challenging art, but given your knack for wandless magic, I believe you're well suited for it."

Harry nodded, absorbing every word. "So, if I get better at Occlumency, I'll be better at wandless magic too?"

"Exactly," Nigel replied, sounding pleased. "The clearer your mind, the stronger your intent, and the more effective your magic."