He gasped when he felt it; Harry’s magic. It felt pure, tranquil, and a polar opposite to the dark chaotic magic of his own. (Not dark in the sense of affinity) It mingled slightly in the air, affectionately. He smiled softly when he realized his Harry’s magic recognized his soulmate’s. After the greeting, the magic rushed to save the werewolf; the intent was crystal clear. It was going to heal him. He knew the Potter patriarch was not a werewolf, but it was not necessary to know who he hurt until now; maybe it is one of the only people who treats him kindly? Either way, he decided to trust his soulmate. He felt his detached body start to feel the symptoms of magical exhaustion. He mingled with the light magic for a few more seconds; and he left Harry’s mind before he crossed the threshold into being permanently harmed. When he was in his own mind again, he was panting. He winced when he realized he was on the floor; if any of his followers saw him like this...