But of course he does. Even a taste of his power could drive any mortal mad; even the devil couldn't claim to surpass him. That's why Dorian was only permitted just that taste, enough to set in him in a trance just for a while rather than pitch himself into the abyss forever.
The task is done, the goal has been reached. He fires off the spell successfully, and Gilgamesh smiles at the result, at the form his patronus takes, a stunning panther that leaps and lunges and no doubt would do everything in its ethereal power to protect its master.
Yet Gilgamesh turns away from his and calls out to someone else.
"Hermione."
He lets Dorian go. He lets him be, strides apart from him so he won't drown in a momentary high pushed too far and approaches her still aglow. They are powerful, they all are with limitless mana suspended all around them. And then there is Hermione, who weeps within herself and wishes for what she'll never have. Echos the wish they all have, and though Gilgamesh cannot hear it, he can guess. He will soothe her. He will be kind to the girl who occupied Dorian's thoughts up until the end.
"It was you who brought about that light after all. It was you he thought of, you he wanted to protect and to love, before I even touched him."
Is it a lie? Not really. Gilgamesh goes on, strides forth until he can be ignored no longer and stands before her.
"Won't you try, too? This mana will help. But more than magic, more than anything, a true friend grants you power beyond belief. I'd like to see that power. I want to believe in it, just as I did before. I want to believe in you, because they were words for your ears as well."
Is it a lie? Not this time. His expression betrays no foul intent. He wants to see it, the patronus that belongs to Hermione Granger, the strength that would've been a stepping stone to something greater—if only he hadn't shattered it all to pieces.
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The task is done, the goal has been reached. He fires off the spell successfully, and Gilgamesh smiles at the result, at the form his patronus takes, a stunning panther that leaps and lunges and no doubt would do everything in its ethereal power to protect its master.
Yet Gilgamesh turns away from his and calls out to someone else.
"Hermione."
He lets Dorian go. He lets him be, strides apart from him so he won't drown in a momentary high pushed too far and approaches her still aglow. They are powerful, they all are with limitless mana suspended all around them. And then there is Hermione, who weeps within herself and wishes for what she'll never have. Echos the wish they all have, and though Gilgamesh cannot hear it, he can guess. He will soothe her. He will be kind to the girl who occupied Dorian's thoughts up until the end.
"It was you who brought about that light after all. It was you he thought of, you he wanted to protect and to love, before I even touched him."
Is it a lie? Not really. Gilgamesh goes on, strides forth until he can be ignored no longer and stands before her.
"Won't you try, too? This mana will help. But more than magic, more than anything, a true friend grants you power beyond belief. I'd like to see that power. I want to believe in it, just as I did before. I want to believe in you, because they were words for your ears as well."
Is it a lie? Not this time. His expression betrays no foul intent. He wants to see it, the patronus that belongs to Hermione Granger, the strength that would've been a stepping stone to something greater—if only he hadn't shattered it all to pieces.