Harry grumbled to himself as he tried, yet again, to draw the correct formulae on the parchment, his hand was already cramping from the effort and he had only gotten marginally better in the last ten tries.
“T’was a worthy effort today, Harry, mayhaps it would be better to rest? It is quite late.” A soft, accented voice said to his right.
Harry turned to look at her, his lips pursed, ready to try to disagree, before he realized that if he wanted to, he shouldn’t have looked in her eyes.
Ranni looked as regal as ever, with her bright red hair, porcelain white skin, and glittering blue eyes, dressed in the Gryffindor uniform and with that subtle, self-assured smile that he admired and envied.
Looking at this angle, in the dark halls of Hogwart’s Library, he could almost fool himself into thinking she was there, and not an illusion cast by a doll on his breast pocket, but a tilt of his head was enough for him to be able to see the wall lantern’s flame behind her, as if looking through a thick curtain.
Frustration, longing, and self-loathing roiled in Harry’s stomach as he nodded with a smile she could certainly tell was faked.
“Sure, Ranni, I just—” he looked down at the parchment, diagrams and magical formulae that probably anyone save for Dumbledore wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails out of mocked him, three months of work and he had little to show for it.
Warmth effused from his pocket, and a breath of it touched him, Harry turned to see Ranni with her spectral hand on his shoulder, a more caring smile illuminating her face, and making his flush.
“I have said this once, thou workst too much, Harry, skilled as thou art, thy body is still mortal and young, there’s still plenty of time, and thy advancement in these arts is nothing short of astonishing.” Her smile widened as a spectral hand caressed his cheek, the feeling akin to a slight breeze. “I have faith that soon I shall have a real body of mine own, and our work together can truly begin.”
Harry nodded, turning his head before his blush could get worse.
He had wanted to help Ranni ever since he established she wasn’t some trick by Voldemort, and especially since she began teaching him magic and a whole slew of things that helped save his life and those of his friends many times. Last year with the Dementors, he was pretty sure he and Sirius would be in trouble if she hadn’t taught Glintstone sorcery.
But as time went on, as she showed him more and more of herself as she came to trust him, Harry’s motives became more selfish, and his intentions, not as pure. And the worst part was that Harry was pretty sure Ranni knew it too, but how could he comment on it? Would she think he was holding it over her? That his help was conditional?
Harry’s stomach roiled as he imagined that Ranni was afraid of him or that his help was conditional on something, and so he held his tongue.
When she had a body of her own, a real body, then he would talk about his feelings, and maybe, just maybe, she would deign to return them. The mere idea set butterflies on his stomach.
The alternative made it drop.
If only a normal human body could work, they would have used his world’s Alchemy to create a homunculus she could inhabit, but Ranni was special, her semi-divine nature needed something more.
As Harry finished gathering his things, with his mood darkened, Ranni’s spectral body dispersed in motes of light, but her voice echoed in his mind.
“Take heart, Harry, every day we are closer to success. For thy efforts today, let’s dream together.”
Harry’s heart lifted, he loved when they “dreamed together” and Ranni showed her memories of her world, filled with incredible things, even if some were sad or terrifying
“Mayhaps today, we can see mine excursion to Nokstella, it’s..skies are quite beautiful.”