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Chapter Text

Prologue –

All Hallows Eve was a time famous throughout magical history, it was a time when the walls around the world of the living grew thin and great and powerful workings of magic could be accomplished when at other times they might fail. It was an All Hallows Eve when Nicolas Flamel succeeded in forging the Philosophers Stone, and it was an All Hallows Eve when four friends decided to create a school for magic users to learn and grow in safety.

This All Hallows Eve in 1981 was no different.

A tall figure, cloaked in shadow and wreathed in malice strode slowly down the empty cobbled lane, the laughs and shrieks of children could be heard across the village, but none were near enough to worry the figure.

Seemingly at random, the figure stopped and raised their arm, as the dark sleeve slipped backwards it revealed long pale fingers grasping a bone white wand with black runes branded across its surface. A flick of the wand and a wispy smoke gathered at its tip, compacting into the form of a fragile looking bird that flapped away from the figure, ascending into the night sky quickly before disappearing from view.

Moments later, the bird returned carrying a scrap of parchment in its beak. It circled the figure before dropping the parchment and dissolving into a cloud of smoke that dispersed in the cool night air. The figure plucked the note out of the air and read its contents aloud in a cold high voice.

"Potter's Lodge is found at the end of Hazel Lane in Godric's Hollow" Silence followed the announcement before the figure laughed, a single peal escaping his waxy lips. The man, for the laugh revealed that it was indeed a man, raised his wand for a second time, again a smoke-like substance seemed to gather at the tip of his wand, clinging to the end as he swept it from left to right before bringing it to his lips and whispering a short phrase.

Like a tidal wave, the smoke exploded from the wand tip, erupting outwards it swept through the village. It climbed through windows, it crept under doorframes and slipped down chimneys. Blanketing the village in silence as every mortal in the village fell immediately asleep, children collapsing in the streets in their costumes, babies quieting in their cribs and elders sinking into Morpheus' embrace.

All except the figure, and a small cottage which seemed to divert the smoke, it's flow parting around the home, unable to find entry. Thwarted by the wards around the home, the smoke settled across the rest of the village before fading from view as silence fell upon the village.

Inside the cottage a husband and wife were whispering their goodbyes, to each other and their son. James Potter, Prongs to his friends, Master of Transfiguration and Lord of the Potter family, ushered his wife upstairs, kissing her quickly and then hurrying to the front door, knowing that he could only buy his family a little time together.

Lily Potter wept softly as she carried her infant son upstairs to his room, knowing she had just left her love to be killed, knowing she would never again see he is infuriating smirk, but also knowing that if they were to save their son, she would need to say goodbye as well.

Lily placed Harry gently into his crib, giving him his favourite toy, a small black stuffed dog, before she kissed him on the cheek and turned to face the door.

Downstairs James Potter gripped his wand tightly and waited for the end, he would give Lily as much time as possible with Harry to say goodbye, he could feel the wards that layered the home and beyond those, the wards Voldemort had placed over the village, there would be no escape for them. He waved his wand and with a muttered "Expecto Patronum" he summoned his glowing white Patronus.

"Find Padfoot and tell him to get here soon, Harry will need looking after" he spoke the words sadly and with a solemn nod, the ghostly stag turned and galloped through the wall, seeking out Sirius, James' brother in all but blood.

As the stag fled from the home, Voldemort watched it turn North and speed away, assuming it was a call for help, he turned back to the house and with a gesture and effort of will, he tore the front wall from the home. Brick and wood crumbled and scattered across the garden and there, in the remains of the doorway, stood James Potter.

"I will offer you one last time" Voldemort spoke as he approached, "join me, join my army and I will spare you. I will even spare your mudblood wife." Voldemort did not mention that he would offer her up to young Severus as a reward, no need to inform Potter of that yet. Raising his pale wand, a green light shining at the tip "Serve me or die here and now Potter. After all, you can always have another heir."

James stood tall and held up his wand though he had no intention of using it before giving his reply.

"I would rather die than kiss your boots Voldemort, Potter's don't kneel."

There was a pause and, as the charming expression on Voldemort's face slipped away, James' last thought was of his wife and son, of the future they could have had, before green light flashed James was gone.

"A shame to waste such talent" Voldemort muttered to himself as he stepped over the unmoving body, slightly disappointed at the lack of resistance from the Transfiguration master, but it was not uncommon for his opponents to be caught by his speed and power, so he continued into the house.

The frame of the structure groaned, not made to stand with only three walls, but it did not collapse, and Voldemort would not be tarrying much longer. He reached the landing and turned to the left, hearing frantic breathing from behind the door there. Another flick of his wand and the door crumbled, rotting to mulch in an instant, revealing Lily Potter stood between him and the crib.

An annoyance, he had promised the girl to Severus as a reward, she was not untalented for a mudblood, and he was a generous master.

"Move aside girl, I only require the boy to die." The stupid girl shook her head and brandished her wand, crying all the while.

"Please, not Harry! Take me! Spare my boy!" She was incessant, desperate, and frankly irritating, he had already offered to spare her, why would she not just let him pass. He sighed angrily.

"I have offered once and I will not do so again, move aside girl!" She shook her hand frantically and stepped forward, her wand pointed at him as she opened her mouth. A second flash of green and she fell silent and still.

He had given her the chance to live, it was not his fault she would not take it, perhaps he could give young Severus a muggle transfigured to look like her, he was a talented wizard and loyalty deserved reward but even Voldemort had a limit to his mercy.

It was as he mused over the young Potions Master in his service that he heard a rustling from the crib in front of him.

"Ah the boy from the prophecy" he raised his wand for a third time, "I am sorry child, but for me to rule, some sacrifices must be made." He spoke the words as the young boy turned away from him in his sleep and as the curse crossed the distance between his wand and the boy time slowed to a crawl.

The parents had sacrificed themselves, willingly and without attempting to defend themselves, all while thinking of the futures they were giving up. The sacrifice was made and now the protection they had wrought was triggered. With a blinding flash, the emerald curse met a golden red web that surrounded the boy, and as the opposing magics met, there were only two possible outcomes. One magic would be more powerful than the other.

The killing curse, while normally unstoppable, was not a truly powerful spell, it was an evocation, instantaneous and requiring only hatred and a modicum of talent to cast. Dark magic yes, but compared to some Dark curses it could almost be seen as a mercy, a less painful curse than the withering or blood boiling curses that could be used instead.

The killing curse met the protection that two parents love and hope for a future had fuelled, all the days they could have had together sacrificed to cast, and it was rebuffed. The green curse rebounded, and the dark lord had but a moment to be shocked before he was engulfed by pain as his physical form was destroyed and, as barely a shadow clinging to the world of the living, he fled in agony.

However, there was a side effect of this conflict between magic, while the protection had stopped the curse, the heat and light the brief collision had generated had not been stopped. And so, young Harry was left with a scar, starting above his left eye a jagged burn crossed from above his left eye to below his right eye.

The Boy-Who-Lived, was blinded.

A/N

28/02/23 - Hey so this was originally just posted on FF but it was requested that I post it on here as well so I will be posting the chapters on here every few days until it has caught up to FF and then I will release the chapters at the same time every other Sunday.

I am a first time author on here but completely open to comments and suggestions. I am *planning* on having this run through all 7 years of Hogwarts, and possibly beyond.

Let me know if you like this, its been rattling around in my head for a while.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer : I own nothing but my own ideas. I own no characters of this franchise nor am I a famous author

Chapter 1

July 1991

Young Harry Potter woke in darkness. But then, he always awoke to darkness. With a yawn and a stretch, he flexed that hidden muscle deep inside and pushed. Suddenly, his surroundings were lit up by faintly glowing lights, well in his mind they were anyway.

He had discovered this ability when he was younger, when running from Dudley and his friends, Harry had stumbled and fallen, losing hold of his stick. In his fear and desperation, he had felt a sudden wrenching tear inside his chest, and suddenly he could see!

He could see the path in front of him and behind him, he could see his hands on the stony ground and his stick off to the left, he could see the hedge that bordered on one side of him and the wooden fence on the other. He could see it all, in various shades of colour and grey and then it was gone, and darkness returned.

The flash of awareness had allowed him to find his stick where it had fallen a few paces from him and carry on his escape from Dudley. He was caught, as you would expect from a small underfed blind boy, fleeing several bigger stronger and faster boys. But he did not forget that brief flash of sight and later, curled up in his cupboard underneath the stairs he had tried to remember the feeling. The tearing deep inside his chest and the dull ache in his head, though he wasn’t sure if that was related or if it was from striking his head on the ground.

He had focused on the feeling, on the colour he had seen, and after what felt like hours, there was another flash and for a brief moment he had been able to see his cupboard. He could see the underside of the stairs above him, the wall behind him with shelves stacked with cleaning products. He could see the door; he could see the small mattress and pillow and the few precious braille books tucked behind the bucket in the corner. He could see everything around him.

For the next few years Harry had practiced this ability, a first he was only able to achieve brief flashes of awareness, and only then after concentrating for several minutes. But as the years passed, he was able to perform these pushes quicker and quicker until around his ninth birthday, he was able to use this form of awareness almost constantly while focussing on other things at the same time.

This sight he could use was not perfect, he had studied different forms of sight among animals, and it seemed to work a little like echolocation. He could coat his surroundings in something, some sound nobody could hear perhaps, and then his mind turned that into an image of his surroundings. From what he had read, it was different to normal sight in several ways.

For instance, there was a limit to how far he could push, and beyond that there was a vague fuzziness and then just darkness, though the limit was increasing the more he practiced, and he had it up to around twenty feet now.

He had also found that living things, natural things, were much clearer to his sight. Every person was a slightly different colour or combination of colours, normally with brighter colour around their heads and chests. He had difficulty with some metals, but others like gold and silver were very easy to see, they would shine brightly in his mind. He could find little pattern to it except that anything that had once been alive, or still was, was typically easier for him to see.

He had also found that around his home in Little Whinging, there was a curtain of reddish gold. It seemed to stretch up endlessly and completely encircled the borough, it rippled when he touched it or passed through it, it would brighten and seem to cling to his touch slightly before releasing him, though he felt no resistance. In fact, he felt only a slightly warm patch of air whenever he touched the red curtain. It was odd, but then he had seen some other odd things in his experiments with the sight, so he didn’t think of it too often.

He was disturbed from reminiscing on his journey learning how to use the sight when there was Thump – Thump – Thud! as the overweight form of Uncle Vernon made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. With another stretch, he pushed at the door to his cupboard and made his way down the hall and into the kitchen as well, his hand trailing absently along the wall beside him.

Harry had realised early on that Vernon, who disliked abnormality or ‘Freakishness’ as he often spat, would be … displeased to learn of Harry’s ability to see. It was not normal, and though Harry was fairly sure Petunia knew he was more aware than perhaps he should have been, but Vernon was, thankfully, none the wiser.

As Harry made his way into the Kitchen, carefully avoiding Vernon’s legs which were splayed out in what would normally be his path to the table, a coincidence, he was sure. Aunt Petunia was already up and bustling about the kitchen preparing breakfast and judging by the dull thuds coming from the landing, Dudley was on his way down for breakfast as well.

Harry reached up and adjusted his tinted glasses as he waited patiently. Petunia had taken him to buy them from a charity shop when he started school, and after a quick search through the glass cabinets, she had found a pair of dark tinted glasses, metal semi-rimless with dark jungle green lenses. She had had him try them on and had quietly told him they made him look very handsome, though he thought perhaps that was because they hid his scars a little.

As Dudley thundered into the kitchen, attempting to push Harry as he sat down, Petunia came to the table with breakfast and served a full English to Vernon and Dudley. Sausages, eggs, bacon, tomato, and beans for her “growing boy” and twice that for Vernon who needed a “proper meal” before a long day at work, and then scrambled eggs on toast for herself and Harry, along with an apple for him as Petunia and Harry were the only ones who ate the fruit from the bowl on the side.

As Harry finished his toast there was a familiar clatter as the letter box was opened and closed, quickly followed by a grunt from Vernon as Harry obediently rose from the table and ventured to the door.

Stooping to collect the mail, Harry noticed one of the envelopes was a little heavier and smoother than the others but thought little of it as he returned to the kitchen and dutifully handed the morning post off to his aunt to read through.

Petunia muttered something about Marge, Vernon’s boorish sister, being unwell (which Harry definitely did not smile about) then a bill, and then there was a moments silence as Petunia seemed stunned momentarily.

She recovered quickly, and Harry absently noticed she had tucked an envelope under her plate as she collected Vernon and Dudley’s now empty dishes. As she passed by Harry, she softly patted his shoulder, before loading the dishwasher and asking if Harry wouldn’t mind helping her clean up.

Dudley, hearing this, fled the kitchen, calling out that he was meeting Piers to play football and couldn’t be late as he rushed to the door and slammed it closed. Vernon quickly followed, heading to work for the morning leaving only Harry and Petunia in the house.

Harry was about to rise and join Petunia at the sink when she turned and, after retrieving the envelope from beneath her plate, handed the letter to him.

“This is for you Harry,” she said in a soft voice “it’s a letter from the school your parents went to.” There was a pause as she sighed deeply before continuing. “I have a few things to explain to you Harry and maybe I should have told you before now, but I had half hoped you would not be like them.” With a deep exhale Petunia sat down, deflating and seeming to fold in on herself. “You have magic Harry dear. Like your mother and father, and this school will teach you how to use that magic.”

“Magic?” Harry questioned. He thought for a moment, it would explain many things, he knew that his sight wasn’t normal, maybe this was how all magical people saw the world?

“Yes, your mother was a witch, and your father a wizard. If you open the letter, it should explain everything, you will have to reply and ask for a teacher to take you to Charing Cross, that’s where their shops are.” Petunia explained as Harry took the envelope. It had a very faint blue light threaded through it but apart from that it seemed to be an ordinary envelope, a little heavy perhaps.

Harry ran his fingers across the front of the envelope and felt small indentations, but not braille, it was just the pen marks. Already doubtful, he turned the envelope over and cracked the seal on the back, there was a brief spark of light as he did so that seemed to fade away quickly. Inside were two pages and a quick pass over of both revealed what Harry already expected.

“Aunt Petunia, I’m sorry, could you read them for me?” He asked hesitantly. “It’s not in braille.” He explained as Petunia let out a little scoff, at him or the writers he didn’t know.

“Of course, yes, pass them here then.” Harry dutifully handed the letter back to Petunia who pulled on the reading glasses she kept on a chain around her neck before clearing her throat and reading aloud.

“Dear Mr Potter.
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress.”

Petunia paused and then continued “There is also a list of equipment you will need but the teacher who comes can explain that for you.” She passed the letter back and stood up, moving to the sink. “You should type up a response. If it hasn’t changed, you should be able to slip it in the envelope and take it outside.” She let out a short, pained laugh. “You should enjoy what happens then.”

Harry sat still for a moment, many different thoughts whirling around his mind before deciding to go forward one step at a time.

First step being to reply to the letter, so he stood up and made his way to Dudley’s spare room upstairs. He had been given a braille typewriter by the school, an old thing with a few keys bent slightly but it worked all the same and he had been allowed to keep it in Dudley’s spare room during the summer.

With slightly shaking hands he checked the paper was loaded properly before typing a quick reply.

Dear Deputy Headmistress,

I have been advised I will need a teacher to escort me to Charing Cross for purchasing my supplies as I am blind.

Would this be possible?

Many Thanks,

Harry Potter

He paused for a moment, thinking, before adding.

P.S Please come during the day as my Uncle Vernon works then and it would be easier for him.

With a chuckle at the thought of a wizard in a pointy hat meeting Vernon, he took the paper from the typewriter and, after a quick check with his fingers to make sure he hadn’t spelled anything incorrectly, he folded the paper carefully making sure to avoid creasing the lines of braille. Popping it into the now empty envelope he made his way downstairs and, grabbing his cane from where it rested beside the front door, he stepped out into the morning sun.

Not knowing what to do, he held the envelope out above his head for a moment, feeling rather foolish as he did so. He was about to turn back inside and question his aunt when he heard a low hoot and heard a rush of wind and feathers. Pushing his awareness to expand, he saw a bird perched atop the streetlamp. As soon as he saw it, he could tell it wasn’t an ordinary bird. Most animals had one colour to them, but this one was a pale brown colour with amber light threaded across its body.

With another hoot it leapt from its roost, and swept towards him, before he could react it had snatched the envelope from his still outstretched hand and, with a few heavy flaps of its wings, it was rising up and soaring away, until it quickly left his sight.

With a laugh, Harry turned and headed back indoors, muttering under his breath about mad aunts and birds as he closed the door.

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In an office, lit by a warm and cheery fire, Minerva McGonagall was sat behind a dark wooden desk in a comfortable chair, reading through letters and marking off a list to the side. She was sorting through acceptance letters, almost everyone sent an invitation to attend Hogwarts accepted, only a few families preferred to attend Beauxbatons in France or Durmstrang in the Black Forest. She had nearly finished when a tawny owl slipped in through an open window facing the forest that bordered Hogwarts Castle.

It landed lightly upon her large oak desk and dropped it’s letter carefully in front of her, before taking off and flitting back out through the window.

Minerva reached for the envelope and, after opening the letter within, frowned for a moment. She picked up her wand and a spare piece of parchment, laying the letter beside the blank sheet and waving her wand above both, intoning “Tactus ad aspectum” as she did so. For a moment there was a blur of colour on the blank sheet, it seemed to waver before collapsing into a smear of meaningless ink across the page.

Minerva scowled at the smeared page, as she picked the letter back up and stood, striding from the room and making her way to her colleague’s office. She reached the Charms corridor and paused outside the office door before rapping sharply on the door. There was a moments silence before.

“Come in Minerva, its open.” A slightly squeaky voice called from within.

“You know some people find monitoring charms to be impolite Filius” She rebuked as she opened the door and stepped into the Charms Master’s office. A pleasant space with pale eggshell walls and books stacked to the rafters, with a fireplace tucked away in the corner and hidden behind a desk piled high with thick tomes, drinking from a goblet of pale silver was Filius Flitwick. A short man, he stood at a little under 4 ft tall, with a grey braided beard and dark grey hair pulled back into a loose tail, he wore simple brown robes and chortled loudly at Minerva’s scolding.

“I needed no charm to know that it was you Minerva, only you knock so precisely on my door!” He laughed as his friends’ cheeks reddened slightly, before waving his wand and revealing a second chair in the room that had previously been obscured by books and loose sheets of parchment. He waited for Minerva to sit before offering her a drink.

“Thank you, Filius, but no, I actually came for your help.” Minerva paused here ducking her head slightly in embarrassment before continuing. “I need your help with a charm, the touch to sight translation charm?” She held up the letter and showed Filius that it was printed in braille.

“Ah, a tricky charm Minerva, I don’t blame you for struggling, I must confess I’ve had no need of it since young Christopher Judge graduated.” The Charms professor held out his hand for the letter and laid it down next to a spare sheet he drew from a drawer beneath his desk. He set aside his goblet and with a wave of his wand, spoke clearly.

“Tactus ad aspectum.” He paused to watch as dark ink gathered on the previously blank sheet of paper, it shifted and twisted before settling as letters upon the page. Filius read the letter quickly before handing it to Minerva along with the original braille copy.

He waited long enough for his friend to finish reading the letter, taking another sip from his goblet before speaking up.

“I should like to volunteer myself to collect Harry and escort him to Diagon Alley, Minerva.” He raised a hand to forestall her immediate refusal. “Think about it Minerva, I have the most experience with those who are impaired of the senses.” Seeing that she was thinking about his words he waited patiently for her to reply, settling in and watching the witch as she sat thinking.

Minerva sat still for several moments before finally agreeing.

“I should have liked to go myself but you make a good point Filius, and I will still get to see him when he arrives.” She gave Filius the original braille copy of the letter and, after chatting about the upcoming school year and accepting a quick drink, she departed to mark down the last name on the Hogwarts acceptance list.

Harry Potter.

A/N Hey everyone so I’m reposting this as its already on FF, let me know what you think!

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of JKR’s characters or works

Chapter 2

The knock came as Harry was nervously tapping his cane on the floor. He looked up at Petunia when he heard the polite double tap, before rising to his feet and making his way to the door. With a deep breath he opened it to reveal the teacher coming to escort him to Charing Cross.

He was short, not even 4ft tall, but his colours were the strongest and brightest Harry had ever seen. Blue and gold swirling and entwining throughout his form. As Harry opened the door and observed the short man, he heard a sharp intake of breath come from the man before he seemed to straighten slightly and step forward.

“Good morning, I am Professor Filius Flitwick, might I come in?” Asked the short man in front of Harry whose colours still entranced him.

“Yes, sorry, yes.” Harry stammered before opening the door fully and letting the man step inside. “My name is Harry, sir”

The man – Professor Flitwick, Harry reminded himself, chuckled before explaining. “Yes, my boy, I know who you are. You look much like James did at your age, though I think I see more of Lily in your nose.” Flitwick peered closely at Harry for a moment before turning to look at Petunia who had just stepped into the hallway. “Ah, and you must be Petunia, Lily had a photograph of you and her, I must say you don’t seem to have aged a day madam.”

Harry struggled with reading some body language with his sight, but he was fairly sure Petunia had just blushed and struggled to hold in a laugh. Flitwick followed Petunia as she led them into the living room, waiting until Petunia had taken a seat before climbing surprisingly gracefully into an armchair opposite the sofa. Said armchair usually seated Vernon and sagged significantly in the middle causing Flitwick to sink rather rapidly for a moment before he shifted back to the edge of the chair.

Harry took a seat next to Petunia on the sofa and waited while she offered the Professor tea and biscuits, which he gladly accepted. Once tea was served and Petunia had settled down, he finally spoke up.

“So” He began, not quite knowing what to ask first. “Magic is real?” He decided to start at the basics.

Flitwick took a sip of tea before replying. “Ah yes, I suppose you won’t have seen any since you were a baby. Yes Harry, magic is real, have you ever had anything strange happen around you? Anything odd or unexplained?” The professor seemed to be watching him closely as he asked this.

Petunia nodded as Filius questioned him and answered immediately.

“Oh yes, when we first took him in, he would do all sorts of magic. He would make his favourite toys and blankets come to him, he even made a fire one night when the power went out and we had no heating.” She paused sadly. Harry remembered that night, though not starting a fire. It was a year or so before he first triggered his sight and after that he was moved out of the room he shared with Dudley, first into the spare room, and then a week later Vernon moved him into the cupboard under the stairs. Petunia had tried to argue, but Vernon had thundered and raged at her until she gave in. Threatening to beat Harry and her if she argued again.

Harry reached out and patted her hand clumsily when he heard her sniffle, he did not blame her.

The professor said nothing, quietly sipping from his cup until Petunia straightened and wiped at her eyes. Only once she had calmed did he speak again.

“I must say Petunia, this tea is lovely, do I detect a hint of lemon?” He asked politely as he balanced the now empty cup and its saucer atop the side of the armchair where it wobbled precariously.

Petunia nodded and smiled thanking the professor before he continued.

“I must confess, Mr Potter, I would like to check something if that is okay with you?” The professor hopped down from the armchair and walked around the table to stand in front of Harry and Petunia. “You see, I have been able to feel your magic since you opened the front door to this lovely home.” At this he smiled at Petunia again who Harry was sure giggled briefly. “And I would just like to perform a quick check on you, just to make sure there is nothing wrong, would that be alright?”

Harry looked towards Petunia quickly before asking.

“Will it hurt?” He questioned.

“No no, not at all. You shouldn’t feel a thing.” At Harry’s nod, the professor drew a long thin object from his waist. The object had a warm golden-brown colour, with hints of red at its centre, as soon as the professor touched it the colours brightened and veins of the brown and red seemed to burrow into the professor’s colours, and as he looked closely, he could see that the professor’s blue colour had seeped into the object’s as well. The object had similar colours to some tree’s Harry had seen, though they were nowhere near as bright and clear.

He was broken from his reverie when the professor cleared his throat.

“Apologies, I normally choose something a little more colourful for the one I show a student but, in this instance, I suppose it matters little to you young Harry.” Harry didn’t know what the odd man meant but had no chance to question him as the professor began to weave his hand in a strange pattern.

As the professor moved the strange object back and forth, he left faintly glowing lines in the air, lines of blue and silver light. Harry gasped, they were beautiful, the pattern the professor was drawing was forming a web of light in the air!

A moment later the professor finished and with a final flick, the web of silver and blue flashed, seeming to stretch out, it looked to be wrapping around Harry and he was about to reach out and touch it when it burst apart, fading into blue and silver motes of light that quickly dispersed until nothing was left. Ha

Harry had a wide grin on his face when he turned to the bemused professor.

“Will you teach me how to do that?!” He begged as the professor chuckled.

“Aha, that explains the magic leakage then.” The professor chuckled again, shaking his head as he returned to the drooping armchair and climbing back on. “So, my boy, how did you manage that then?” He questioned, as he settled back in.

“Manage what, sir?” Harry asked, confused. He hadn’t done anything; the professor was the one that had made the web of light.

The professor stared hard at him for a moment and Harry wondered if he had done something wrong, was he supposed to show the professor magic of his own?

“Your magic, Mr – may I call you Harry?” At Harry’s confused nod he continued. “Your magic, Harry, is leaking out of you. Well, I thought it was leaking, that was why I cast the diagnostic charm. But it isn’t leaking at all, you are in complete control of it, quite the impressive feat for one so young might I add.” The professor shook his head and absently stroked his beard. “You are, without training unless you have had a Curse breaker or enchanter here tutoring you?” Again, Harry shook his head confusedly. “Then yes, without training, you are utilising an extremely difficult magical technique known as Fulgomancy, it is extraordinarily difficult to master.” Harry gaped and shook his head, he didn’t know any magic yet, that was why he was going to the school wasn’t it?

“Fulgomancy is part of a branch of magic combining Divination and magic’s of the mind, Harry. But, to put it simply, you can feel magic.” Flitwick explained, seeing Harry’s confusion.

At this Harry nodded in understanding.

“Yes, I could see that web you did just now, could you not see it then Aunt Petunia?” He questioned his aunt who shook her head and then seemed to find her voice.

“No Harry dear, the professor-”

“Please, call me Filius madam.” The professor interrupted gently. Once again, Harry was fairly sure Petunia blushed, before carrying on.

“Well then, Filius waved his wand” So that’s what the professor had been holding, Harry realised. “- and then stopped and you were smiling and then you asked him to teach you…whatever it was that he did.”  

“Indeed Harry, the diagnostic charm has no real flair to it, but it is an excellent tool for any wizard or witch to know. What you ... felt?” At this the professor paused for a moment. “, Actually, perhaps we should start there, how do you experience your Fulgomancy, Harry?” The professor waved his hand, holding his wand as Harry now realised, and a few clouds of that same blue colour flit from the end, forming the shape of a bird that flapped its wings briefly before disappearing. Petunia gasped at that, so Harry knew the magic had at least been visible to her that time. “For instance, I know a wizard who experiences his Fulgomancy by sound, he hears music and can associate that music with different magics. What about yourself, what did that magic feel like to you?” Filius questioned, leaning forward.

“Well, it didn’t really feel like anything Professor.” Harry shifted his cane from one hand to the other as he tried to come up with the words for his sight. “I saw the magic as a bird, it flapped its wings when it came out of your wand and then disappeared, sir.” Harry shrugged. “I don’t hear music or anything, I could just see it in my head.” There was a long silence as Harry waited for the Professor to respond. He did not expect the odd man to laugh at him.

It took a moment for Professor Flitwick to calm, and when he did, he clapped once before apologising.

“I am sorry Harry, but that is marvellous! The charm I cast was a simple animation charm, I made the air solidify and form a bird briefly, which is what surprised your lovely aunt.” The Professor turned to Petunia here. “I must apologise for that madam; I had not meant to shock you.” Flitwick turned back to Harry and looked at him closely before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a ball of some kind which he began to roll between his fingers absently. “So, Harry, I must ask, is it just magic that you can see?”

Before Harry could reply he was ducking his head as the ball Filius had been playing with was flying through the space his face had previously occupied.

“Hey!” He shouted in annoyance at the short man who had fallen from his chair now as he laughed and clapped in glee. “What was that for?” Harry asked, frustrated at the mans actions.

“I – I am sorry Harry bu – but” Filius struggled to contain his chuckling before continuing. “You must understand my boy, you are incredible!” He exclaimed, hopping back onto the chair, and smiling at Petunia who had been giggling at the strange man’s antics.

“You have managed to overcome your difficulties with sight haven’t you, you are no more blind than I am my boy.” At this Petunia turned sharply to face Harry who slumped on the spot knowing he would need to explain himself after this.

“Well, I was, but then a few years ago I found I could kind of push and I was able to see around me, to see all around me.” And with that Harry went on to explain how he had practiced every day with his sight until he could use it all the time without needing to concentrate so hard that he could not do anything else. Flitwick interrupted with questions about what exactly he could see, how it looked, he seemed especially interested in the colours that Harry could see.

After he had exhausted Professor Flitwick’s questions and Petunia had served everyone another cup of tea, it was finally his turn to ask the questions.

“Where is Hogwarts? What are Charms? Will I be able to use my typewriter at school? Are there braille books?” He rushed out the questions before he heard a quiet cough from Petunia who was hiding a smirk behind her teacup. He frowned; he was simply curious about this whole new world he had found he was a part of. It was hardly his fault if he was a little eager for answers. Or very eager for them.

“Hogwarts is located in Scotland. Charms are a branch of magic which allows one to impart their will upon the world, Charms encompasses a wide variety of spells, some impart new characteristics upon an object.” With that he tapped his wand on edge of the teacup balancing on the armchair beside him and it rose up into the air and began bobbing and weaving around the room. The cup, which before had been a plain dull grey, was now covered in glowing blue lines that sank into the grey as it floated around the room, before returning to its place on the arm of the chair.

Harry and Petunia both clapped at the spell as the Professor continued. “Other branches of Charms deal more with causing things to happen, for instance.” Another wave of the professor’s wand and a gout of fire, burning hot and raging erupted from the tip of his wand, stopping just short of the ceiling. Petunia cried out and was about to tell the Professor to stop when suddenly the fire stopped, the room returned to its normal temperature, there were no marks anywhere in the room that anything had happened and not even a whiff of smoke in the air.

Harry was already obsessed. That fire had been incredible. Normal fire was a red colour in Harry’s mind, but that fire had been many different colours, reds, blues, golds and even a few greens interspersed the fire before it had stopped. It was incredible. All of the magic the professor had cast had been incredible, all so different and interesting.

“Apologies again Petunia, I shan’t try to shock you again.” A pause. “Today anyway.” Flitwick winked at Harry’s aunt and this time he really was sure she blushed. And giggled!

“But I digress, Charms are many varied and include many different branches of magic. Wards, enchanting, many curses even, all fall under Charms. I will need to take a look at your typewriter as some mundane items fail in Hogwarts when around that amount of magic, but I am sure we will be able to find something for you to use if your typewriter won’t be possible. There are braille books in the Hogwarts library yes, and there is a charm for translating written text into braille and vice versa so even if the book is not in braille, so once you learn that charm you will be able to read all the books you like.” Professor Flitwick smiled then and clapped his hands, rubbing them together. “Well, if we want to pick up everything from Diagon Alley today and get back in suitable time, we should really set off.”

With that Flitwick and Harry said quick goodbyes to Petunia, Flitwick kissing her hand while Harry settled for a quick hug. In no time they were stood outside 4 Privet Drive, Flitwick leading the way to the end of the street and down a side alley that led to the park.

Harry followed in confusion until Flitwick suddenly stopped and turned to face him.

“This should do Harry, sorry for the secrecy but we aren’t supposed to do any obvious magic in front of muggles.” At Harry’s confused look, which was beginning to annoy Harry, he hated not knowing things. “Ah, muggles are non-magical people. Then there are squibs like your aunt but that’s a conversation for another time. Right, hold still and breath out.”

Harry felt Flitwick grab his arm firmly and then suddenly he was being pulled through the tightest tube, stretching and twisting, surrounded by brightly flashing colours. And then he was on his knees and gasping for breath. He heard Flitwick mutter something before turning back to face him.

“Sorry about that Harry, the first time is always rough, there is really no way to prepare for it. It does get better with practice, and when you can do it yourself it’s really quite enjoyable for some.” The Professor patted him on the back as Harry gasped for breath and straightened, he would never get used to that feeling and was not sure he wanted to.

Harry focussed on his surroundings and gasped again, this time in shock and not need of air. Everything was filled with colour. The cobblestones they were stood upon were filled with browns, blues, greens, greys, and reds. The walls were the same. Even the air had faint colours shimmering through it. It was so bright. It was too bright. Too much colour. He was lost in colour.

“Harry, listen to me, just focus on my voice Harry.” He could hear the professor as if through water, it was muffled but he could hear it. “That’s it Harry, deep breaths and just focus on one thing, let everything else wash over you. Just let it pass. You are okay Harry.” He took deep breaths and focussed on the voice, seeing a ribbon of blue light flicker out and surround him and the professor, it obscured the other colours, though it did not block them entirely. It was enough. He could breathe. He could see.

“Thank – Thank you Professor.” Harry took a few more deep breaths. That had been frightening, he had not felt like that since he first triggered his sight. He had felt blind again, but instead of darkness it had been colours, too many and filling his vision.

“It is alright my boy, it’s my fault really, I should have realised.” At Harry’s look, the Professor elaborated. “There are very few places in Britain with more magic layered upon them than Diagon Alley. After the Great Fire, the Ministry had warders and enchanters working here for years to protect Diagon. And with your Fulgomancy, well it must have been very disorienting.” The Professor looked very apologetic and gestured at the dome of blue magic that surrounded them. “This is a temporary ward, it will keep anything we say from being overheard, will keep prying eyes off of us and should be blocking out some of the external magic if I am right?”

“Yes, yes its much better now. I’m okay now professor, thank you for helping me.” Harry gripped his cane tightly, he was sure he was okay now, even as he stood there the colours seemed to grow less bright, easier to observe.

“Good good, well I have a few things to tell you before we go into Diagon proper.” The professor sighed sadly before speaking again. “Harry, you are famous to most of Magical Britain, to most of the Magical World in fact.” Harry opened his mouth to question Filius, but the professor held up a hand and continued. “It would be best if I got through this in one go, then you can ask your questions and I will do my best to answer them, though I confess I do not have all the answers you will seek.”

Harry reluctantly nodded and twisted his grip on his cane impatiently.

“Right well, before you were born there was a wizard. A dark wizard, the self-styled Lord Voldemort, now some will caution you not to speak his name, but the reason for that does not apply to you so call him whatever you like. Now, this dark lord he raised an army of other dark wizards and witches, of werewolves and vampires and other magical creatures. He raised this army and he waged war on Magical Britain. Voldemort believed that only pure-blooded wizards, those who had no muggle blood, were worthy to wield magic. He and his army attacked wizarding villages across the country, they killed hundreds, and Voldemort he was a one-man army himself. He wielded dark magic, foul magic that very few could stand against. And your parents fought him and his army, they were part of a group who fought separately from our Ministry as there were many known sympathisers in the government at the time and to speak out was dangerous.” Harry grinned at the thought of his parents fighting this monster and Flitwick laughed darkly when he saw it. “Yes Harry, you should be proud of your parents, they were brilliant people. No, better, they were good people. Kind and generous. Anyway, one night not long after your first birthday, Halloween 1981, Voldemort came for your family. He put the entire village of Godric’s Hollow into a cursed sleep which some never woke from, and he killed your mother and father. I am truly sorry Harry.” 

Harry felt tears crawl down his face as he heard the voice. High and cold. And a different voice, soft and desperate. “Please, not Harry!” He flinched when he felt a hand squeeze his arm softly before sniffing and wiping his eyes.

“But that doesn’t explain why I’m famous professor?” Harry asked, his voice cracking a little as he did. “Surely loads of people lost family to this Voldemort?”

“Yes Harry, many people did die at Voldemort’s hand, but you are not famous for your parents dying. You are famous, Harry, because you survived. Voldemort tried to kill you, but he failed, his curse rebounded and destroyed himself. You are famous because you are the boy-who-lived.” Harry scoffed, how could he, a one-year-old baby have killed a dark lord?

“You doubt it, Harry?” Flitwick asked curiously.

“Well, yeah, I was a baby, what could I have done against a dark wizard professor?” Harry shrugged.

“There are a few theories, some believe you used accidental magic to deflect the curse, others that Voldemort just couldn’t cast the spell correctly at an innocent babe and the curse failed and rebounded. It is difficult to know for sure without having been there Harry, by the time anyone was able to investigate the area there was so much dark magic left that nothing else could be detected.” The professor paused for a moment. “I must say Harry, the theory I think is most likely, though I could be wrong, is that it is a combination of your accidental magic and something your parents did, which protected you. In fact, after meeting you and finding out about your Fulgomancy, the theory about your accidental magic protecting you seems far more plausible. It is not common for a wizard or witch to manifest their magic in this way before being trained, its even less common that they could control it in any meaningful way.”

Harry thought about it for a moment, but he couldn’t believe that, as a baby, he had been able to stop a dark wizard like Voldemort, it seemed far more likely that his parents had done something to protect him. Yes, his parents had been the ones to defeat Voldemort really, and he would do his best to live up to their legacy.

The professor was silent, leaving Harry to his thoughts until there was a light chime, like a being rung just once before stopping. The professor jumped and drew a silver pocket watch from his pocket, opening it and peering at the clock face inside before humming and slipping it back into his jacket pocket.

“I’m afraid we must make a move now if we want to get you back in good time. Now, hold still a moment Harry.” With that the professor drew his wand and furrowed his brow as he spun the tip in a growing spiral, drawing concentric circles of blue light in the air before, with a gentle prod, the circles floated daintily across to Harry and fell upon his face. It was rather disconcerting for him to see the light growing closer, but he trusted the professor, though perhaps that wasn’t sensible as he had only met the man a few hours ago.

There was a brief feeling of cool air brushing across his face, like a gentle breeze, before it passed, and Harry could only tell that the professor had cast anything by the fuzzy blue light that seemed to hover gently across the skin of his face.

“There, that should do. Like I said Harry, you are famous here, this should make you a little less noticeable, it’s only temporary but it should last until our business is done.” With that the short professor turned and walked through the blue dome of light he had cast when they arrived. The cerulean dome burst into shining motes of light as he crossed its boundary and Harry shook his head at the chaotic beauty of it, before following the professor, gripping his cane tightly as he tapped it in front of him.

A/N Hey guys! Wow I did not expect anyone to like this or want to read it to be honest so very glad that people are enjoying it so far!

Please leave reviews they are great for letting me know if you like what I’m writing so far, and if you don’t like it then tell me that too so I can see where I might want to change things!

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the new chapters I have written.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Diagon Alley

As Harry stepped out onto the main street of Diagon Alley, he was amazed. If the side street they had arrived in had been like this, he would have been left a sobbing ball on the ground clutching his head. There were colours everywhere, the shops, the paved road, even the people were filled with colours brighter than he had ever seen before. A rainbow of colour filled the street, bold and bright.

For a moment, he is overwhelmed again, it is too much colour. Too much to process. A gentle squeeze on his arm reminds him that he is not alone. It grounds him and reminds him to breathe and focus. It takes a few moments, but he calms and lets the colours wash over him, not focussing on any of them, just breathing and standing. Until he is able to process it, he can see again, and its still bright, brighter than anything he’s ever seen before. But again, he can already feel the nausea and pain fading as he observes his surroundings until they are gone completely. And all that is left is the initial amazement at everything on display.

“Right Harry, I know this must be a very interesting view for you, but we really must start, or we shall never finish in time. If you could follow me, we will start at the Bank. Do you have your list with you?” Harry nodded and followed the professor as he strode forward, moving at a surprising pace for his size. Harry pulled the folded list from his pocket and held it out for the professor, ducking underneath a sudden cloud of strange pink light that appeared from a nearby shop window. He would try not to think about what that could have been.

“Ah yes, hmm plain robes, a hat of course, gloves – well you shall want dragon hide for those, that venomous tentacular is a prickly bugger - a winter cloak …” The list went on for several more items which the professor hummed at before folding the parchment and tucking it into his pocket. “Very well then.” A few minutes of walking through the bustling crowds, Harry noticed that while some people seemed to wear long robes while others wore slightly more normal clothes, like the professor’s grey suit, and they reached what Harry presumed was the Bank.

An enormous building of white stone, it had very different colours to it than the rest of the Alley. Veins of dark golden light, browns and greys wreathed the building, surfacing and sinking beneath the stone exterior like veins of crystal in stone.

Flitwick led Harry up the steps and through the large open doors, inside were several counters being manned by small beings. Their colours were almost all earthen browns and dark golds, interestingly the gold was a similar shade to that which twisted through Flitwick’s blue and gold colours.

“This, Harry, is Gringotts, it is the only bank in Britain and is run by Goblins, now some wizards look down on Goblins, seeing them as rude and lesser than themselves. I will not tell you what to believe, but I will advise you to be polite at the least.” At that, Flitwick strode over to a counter with no queue and looked up at the Goblin sat at the desk weighing small blue stones on a set of scales.

“This young man would like to visit his Vault, good teller.” The Goblin raised his head slowly and peered at first Flitwick and then Harry, then he nodded and raised a hand tipped with dangerous looking claws. He clicked his fingers twice and gestured behind Harry and Flitwick where a different Goblin now stood.

“I am Griphook, follow me.” The Goblin’s deep rasping voice echoed slightly, as he turned and walked away, not waiting for them. Professor Flitwick followed the Goblin, holding Harry’s arm as he did so. The Goblin led them through a set of doors at the end of the large atrium they were in, and down a short corridor until the floor changed from marble tiles into a rough-hewn rock. Ahead of them was a cavernous space, rocky walls and stalactites spearing down from the distant roof of the cave. A single lantern was hanging from a chain stretching up into darkness, and beneath it a rail track with a single metal cart sitting on it.

The cave had very little colour to it, lines of dull gold threaded through parts of it seemingly at random, but the majority of the colour in the space came from the rails the cart was on. They were covered in looping chains of browns, golds and dark greens, wrapping tightly around the metal tracks as they stretched out in front of the cart.

Griphook opened a section of the cart to allow them to climb in and seat themselves on the rigid metal chairs bolted to the base of the cart. The goblin followed them in and reached down to a lever on the side of the cart. The goblin turned to face Harry and Flitwick with a toothy grin.

“Keep your hands inside the cart if you want to keep them and hold on.” He chuckled before yanking on the lever. The cart screeched as it slowly rolled forwards, slowly at first, and then picking up speed until they were rushing along the track as it twisted and turned. Snaking through the cavern they were in.

They were hurtling along the track in no time, and soon they began to descend, the track turning into a steep incline. It was disorienting at first for Harry, his awareness allowing him to see the cart and tracks they were on, and the occasional stalactite that whizzed by them, and very little else.

“Vault number?” The goblin asked absently as he scratched his chin. Harry was confused for a moment. He didn’t know a vault number, had Flitwick told him a vault number? His worries were calmed when the professor reached replied to the goblin, shouting slightly to be heard over the rushing wind.

“Vault 687 please.” Flitwick patted Harry’s hand which was gripped tightly to his cane as they hurtled down and around a sudden bend, a grinding sound coming from above as they suddenly changed direction again. This time Harry was able to see the cause of the sudden change, they had changed tracks, now following a more level path instead.

A few moments later, Griphook reached down and pushed on a different lever and the cart began to slow, sparks flying from the grinding wheels at the back. And then they had stopped. To their right was open air, stretching out as far as Harry could sense. But to their left was a rocky ledge and a strange metal door.

The goblin let them out of the cart and onto the ledge and then held out its clawed hand expectantly.

Harry wondered for a moment if he expected a tip, before Professor Flitwick held out a small golden key, it shone brightly in Harry’s sight a deep gold before Griphook’s fingers closed around it. The goblin walked over to the large metal door and stroked a single finger down its surface before slipping the key into the door and twisting it.

With a great rumbling sound, the door swung inwards revealing a small room filled with stacks of fat golden coins, small piles of thin silver coins and scattered around them a few mounds of hexagonal bronze coins as well. It looked like a lot of money.

Harry gaped wordlessly at the room and its contents before turning to his guide who chuckled at his expression.
“Well, you didn’t think your parents would leave you nothing, did you?” The smiling man gestured for Harry to go inside the vault, handing him a small leather bag that he drew from a pocket that seemed far too small to have held it without bulging uncomfortably. But Harry was too distracted examining the odd coins. The golden coins – Galleons, Flitwick explained, were round and as thick as his thumb, the smaller silver coins were square and thinner – Sickles his professor informed him, and the smallest coins were hexagonal and bronze – these were Knut’s according to his professor.

He filled the bag with a few handfuls of the Galleons before he realised the bag should have been full twice over, concentrating on the leather pouch he could see symbols of blue light swimming across its surface and he nodded, the bag was charmed in some way.

Once he had filled the bag with several dozen of the Galleons and a few handfuls of the Sickles and Knuts, he and Flitwick left the vault and the goblin closed the door, handing the key to Harry after he had locked it again.

“Now Harry, you must keep that key safe, don’t give it to anyone and if you ever lose it, you should let myself or another professor know. Gringotts do not suffer thieves but if they have your key it is seen as permission from you. The key is enchanted, it can’t be stolen or duplicated but if you give it to someone then Gringotts see that as you are giving them permission to access your vault. Understood?” At Harry’s nod the professor smiled and led him back to the cart.

After another breakneck ride they were returned to the atrium of the bank where Flitwick shook Griphook’s hand and Harry thanked him before they left, stepping out into the afternoon sun.

Until it was blocked by the largest man Harry had ever met, casting a shadow that stretched out in front of him. For a moment Harry was concerned as the giant walked towards them before Professor Flitwick called out in greeting.

“Hagrid! Lovely to see you, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the herd? I thought this was their breeding season.” The giant slowed and stopped in front of them. His colour was interesting, a warm brown that reminded Harry of the old oak trees at his school and mixed in was a deep dark blue that seemed to pulse slowly. When he spoke his voice rumbled, like rocks grinding against each other, but it was a friendly voice, full of kindness. The giant might have been intimidating to look at with his big bushy beard and dark eyes, but he seemed to be a gently giant at least.

“Ah well, on bus’ness for Professor Dumbledore I am. Important bus’ness.” At this, Hagrid seemed to swell with pride for a moment, before he looked down at Harry and reached out an immense hand for him to shake. It swallowed Harry’s own hand, but the big man was surprisingly gentle as he shook it twice before releasing him. “Hullo there, ‘M Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Groundskeeper at Hogwarts.”

“Hello sir, I’m Harry, nice to meet you.” At hearing his name, the giant leaned forward, bringing his large face close to Harry’s own before rearing back and saying softly.

“Ah, Harry, good to meet ya too.” He paused then and leaning back in, said quietly. “I was a friend of yer parents, good people they were. You ever want to hear about them, come on down to my cabin at Hogwarts.” With a firm nod and a wave to the two, the giant carried on up the stairs, his stride clearing three of the stairs with every step.

Harry watched Hagrid enter the building and then turned to Professor Flitwick who smiled at him.
“So erm… what should we start with, sir?” He watched as the short man hummed and then nodded.

“A trunk first I think, and I know just the place. Follow me Harry, and stay close, even in Diagon there are some unscrupulous characters who might see you as an easy target.” With that Flitwick led Harry down the Alley a little ways, and then steered him down another side street, though this one quickly opened up onto a street nearly as wide and colourful as Diagon Alley was.

“This is Horizant Alley and up ahead is a shop run by an old friend of mine, Castamir will have something you can use.” Flitwick gestured in front of them at a shop with dark wooden walls and a window displaying a few interesting items, an old globe that was slowly spinning which seemed to show a very different looking map to what Harry had seen before, a tiny cauldron that could fit in the palm of even Harry’s hand, and a telescope that had many dials and knobs littered across its surface. The wooden sign hanging over the door read “Copper Artifice’s” in thick letters.

As they neared the shop, Harry was able to make out a faint shimmer to the walls and door, there was a very faint red veil covering the exterior of the shop, it reminded Harry a little of the wall of red that surrounded Little Whinging.

Professor Flitwick opened the door and let Harry inside as a small bell jingled above them. The shopfront was filled with shelves and tables covered in seemingly random items, some covered in dust while others gleaming and new.

There were small clockwork toys on one of the shelves which ticked and whirred to themselves, wooden carvings of animals and monsters on another that seemed to shift and move unexpectedly, there was a rolled-up rug in one corner leaning against a tall grandfather clock that seemed to creak ominously as the door closed behind them.

And everything in the store had a purple colour to it. Most of the items just had a ring of the deep purple flecked with a rust like red orbiting them loosely, but some had chains of dark purple binding them tight. The rug was one of those, its natural crimson red with flecks of sickly green pushing against the purple shackles binding it.

At the back of the store, behind a dark wooden counter and looking through a set of glass lenses at a piece of broken metal stood a tall man, his dark hair swept back into a loose tail similar to Flitwick’s, though his was tied back with a dark red piece of cloth, olive skin wrinkled by smile lines, his sharply trimmed goatee split open as he smiled and called out when he looked up to see them.

“Filius, my old friend, it has been too long!” His voice was rich and clear, with a faint accent that Harry couldn’t place, as the tall man stepped around the counter and greeted his friend with a warm hug, kneeling briefly to do so.

“Hello Castamir, it is good to see you, it has been too long.” At this the smiling professor gestured to Harry and introduced him. “Castamir, this is Harry, he needs a trunk and I thought you might have something for him.”

The tall wizard smiled and walked over to Harry, taking his hand, and shaking it enthusiastically.

“Well, any friend of Filius’ is a friend of mine, a trunk you say?” Harry was a little shocked but nodded.

“It’s my first year at Hogwarts, sir.” Harry explained, though he was cut off quickly by a belly laugh from the tall man.

“No, no not sir Harry, not even my father was a sir, just Castamir will do for me.” He waited for Harry to mumble an agreement before continuing. “Now, I do in fact have two trunks I have just finished working on, but before I bring them out, I must ask,” Here he turned back to Filius with a frown. “Filius, the boy is throwing magic out all over the place, what is going on?”

If Filius was shocked at being asked this, he did not show it, simply chuckling before explaining.

“Peace, old friend, I have already checked, and he is safe. However, I will not share young Harry’s secrets without his permission, you will need to ask him about the magical leakage.” Filius said, nodding towards Harry as he finished.

Harry felt the tall wizard turn back to face him, and with a brief glance to Flitwick who remained silent, he turned his attention back to the wizard whose royal purple magic filled the room, he watched as it shifted slowly, the flecks of red seeming to burn before being swallowed by eddies of purple that flowed across his being. He nodded once; he would trust this friend of Professor Flitwick’s.

“Professor Flitwick called it Fulgomancy?” He looked to the short man for confirmation before continuing. “Its how I see things, how I can see magic and stuff.” He shrugged and tapped his cane on the ground nervously.

Castamir nodded to himself and stroked his beard as he listened to Harry explain how he learned how to use his awareness, nodding occasionally.

“Well, that explains that then, I apologise Harry but normally that much magic being thrown from a young witch or wizard is a bad sign.” At Harry’s nervous look he patted him on the shoulder warmly. “Not to worry Harry, there are not many who will be able to feel your sight, perhaps a few of your teachers but I am sure Filius will be able to explain it away, perhaps as a side effect of that Halloween, hm?” At Filius’ nod Harry relaxed, at least he wouldn’t be seen as a freak by the other students.

“Now, a trunk yes?” Castamir drew his wand, a long dark wand that shone with a grey-purple light and flicked the tip twice. Two small motes of purple sped from the wand behind the counter and down through the wooden floor before there was a clatter as through the doorway behind the counter, two large trunks came floating in and dropped to the floor in front of Harry.

One of the trunks was made of pale wood and bound in leather, it had an amber colour to it with a very faint purple halo encircling it. The other was a darker wood with metal bindings and hinges, this trunk was a dark grey colour almost completely surrounded by a web of thin purple lines.

“Now has Filius explained what I do, Harry?” When Harry shook his head Castamir nodded and gestured at the items around the shop. “I am a curse breaker and an enchanter, among other things.” Here Filius snorted loudly but when Castamir frowned at him, the small wizard grinned and turned to poke at a glass clock on the table next to him. “Ahem, now, I buy cursed items, and then I either break the curse or in some cases, I bind the curse instead. Some curses are more nuisances than real dangers, but some are also extremely useful, if a little extreme.”

Here he gestured at the pale trunk and rapped on the top with his knuckles.
“For instance, this trunk was sold to me by a rather aggravated witch, it appears her sons jinxed the trunk to vanish any left sock, glove, shoe or trouser leg placed within…quite a clever bit of work really. I was able to completely break that curse, now it is just a trunk with extra space in there.” Then he pointed at the darker trunk. “Now this trunk was a nasty one, I bought this from an estate sale, the trunk was owned by a paranoid witch, and she cursed it so that anyone who opened it without her permission would be driven insane. Stark raving mad, eating grass and mooing at the moon bonkers. But with a bit of work, I was able to bind the curse, now if anyone who doesn’t have permission from the owner tries to open the trunk, they will be rendered unconscious and get a rather nasty shock too.”

Harry was fascinated, binding and breaking curses sounded amazing. After looking over both trunks, he decided on the darker trunk. He liked the idea of having a protected trunk to keep his books and things in, he was used to Dudley stepping on his books and throwing them around.

Castamir agreed to sell the trunk to Harry for 10 Galleons since he was a friend of Filius’ and invited Harry to send him letters if he had any questions about curse breaking or enchanting. After wringing an agreement from Filius to have dinner before term started up, Castamir bid them goodbye as they left the shop and made their way back to Diagon Alley.

As they stepped back into Diagon Alley, Professor Flitwick asked Harry what he wanted to pick up next. After thinking for a moment Harry decided on getting his schoolbooks, though he was curious.

“Will all the books be in braille, or will I have to learn the charm you mentioned?” He was nervous at the thought of having to learn a charm just to read his schoolbooks.

“Not to worry Harry, while Flourish and Blotts might not have all of them in braille, Obscurus definitely will so we shall head there first.” Professor Flitwick guided Harry to a dark shop, tucked away between a Quidditch store, which the professor explained was a sport played on flying brooms, and Madam Malkins, a shop that sold robes and other clothes.

Inside Obscurus books is a little dark, the light from outside almost entirely blotted out by the stacks of books that fill the shop. The owner was sat on a thin stool at the back, reading quietly from a book and didn’t stir when they entered. Ignoring the odd owner, Harry quickly found all of the required texts in braille with a little help from Flitwick who, seeing the booklist also recommended a few other texts like ‘The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts by Arsenius Jigger’, a thick book that the professor insists is far better than “Trimble’s nonsense”.

After Harry finished paying for his books and stacking them in his surprisingly roomy trunk, Professor Flitwick approached with another tome, this one is titled ‘Advanced Charm Casting by Eulalie Hicks’ who was apparently a famous Charms Mistress.

“A birthday present for you Harry, remarkably it’s a first edition copy but as its in braille Alexander was willing to let it go for a bargain if I do say so myself.” As the professor handed over the book, he leaned close and whispered. “I would keep it to yourself that it is a first edition Harry, there are a few things in there that the Ministry nowadays might frown upon.” With a wink and a pat on the arm, the professor then offered to pick up Harry’s Potions equipment and ingredients while Harry got fitted for robes in Madam Malkins.

So, Harry entered the seamstresses shop alone, tapping his cane at his feet as he waited for someone to appear. Once the harried sounding Madam Malkin came out from the curtain, she very kindly escorted him to a stool beside another boy also being measured for robes.
As Harry stood on the stool, Madam Malkin placing pins in the sleeves of the oversized robes draped over him, the boy next to him spoke up.

“I say, are you blind?” The boy asked with a nasally voice. Harry focussed on the boy; his magic was a dark purple, almost black. It was interesting how different it was to Castamir’s rich royal purple flecked with reds; the boy’s colour seemed dull in comparison.

“Are you deaf as well as blind?” Harry started at that and turned to face the rude boy.

“No, I am not deaf, yes I am blind.” Harry hoped that would be the end of it, but the other boy seemed intent on insulting him as he replied.

“How awful, how will you cast any magic? What’s the point in you even going to Hogwarts? You’re no better than a filthy muggle! Were you born that way?” Harry struggled to rein in his annoyance at the awful boy until the last question when he snapped.

“No, were you born a rude idiot?” Harry regretted it for a few moments before the nasally voice returned, louder than before.

“How dare you! Do you know who I am? My father could have your parents fired! Nobody insults a Malfoy!” So saying, the boy threw the robe he was trying on to the floor and stormed out of the shop, slamming the door closed as he did.

Harry sighed and turned to the witch who had been measuring his robes, wanting to apologise but before he could open his mouth, she shook her head.

“Not to worry dear, what an awful child. It’s all the father’s fault I’m sure, spoiling him rotten.” After another ten minutes of measuring and trying on different robes, trousers and a few shirts and jackets, the witch shooed him off the stool and told him to wait by the counter. He was only waiting a few moments before she returned carrying a thick parcel wrapped in paper and tied with string. Harry paid and put the parcel away in his trunk before thanking the kindly witch and leaving the shop.

Expecting to have to make his way to the Apothecary, Harry was surprised to find Professor Flitwick stood outside the seamstress’s door waiting for him, and after packing away another parcel from Flitwick, he followed him to their last stop.

The shop looked old, and behind the large glass window was a single cushion with a wand laying upon it. Surrounding the building, like an immense web of light, were lines of silver magic, the lines were constantly moving and shifting. As they stepped through the edge of the web Harry noticed that the whole thing seemed to pulse and shiver. Again, Flitwick opened the door for Harry and as they entered Harry saw that there was a wooden counter in front of them and stretching behind it were stacks and stacks of long thin boxes. Some were stored on shelves and others were piled on the floor in precarious and unsteady looking towers.

Harry felt a new person enter his awareness as an old thin man made his way closer from a door at the far end of the store. The man had a luminescent silver colour which Harry had never seen before and as he approached Harry thought he could see wisps of the silvery light drifting off of the man and brushing against the boxes and shelves before fading away.

“Ah Filius Flitwick, Acacia with Dragon Heartstring, 11 inches and bendy, excellent for complex charm work.” The man said as he reached the counter and nodded at the professor.

“Hello Garrick, yes and still serving me well.” The professor drew his wand and waved it once, letting out a shower of blue and white sparks that grouped together and formed the shape of a bird in flight before bursting apart and raining on the floor. Harry was mesmerised, he could not wait to learn how to do that.

“Good to hear. Ah and you must be Mr. Potter.” The wandmaker bowed briefly. “I am Garrick Ollivander, premier wandmaker in Britain if I do say so myself.”

“Nice to meet you Mr Ollivander, sir.” Ollivander offered his hand and Harry reached out to shake it, but the man kept a firm grip and turned and twisted his hand over, inspecting it closely.

“Hmm interesting. Let’s try this one to start with.” Ollivander grabbed a box from partway up a tower of them behind the counter which somehow didn’t collapse as he did so, and removed the lid, thrusting the open box at Harry as he did. “Here, Oak and Unicorn Hair 13 ¼ inches, unyielding.”

Harry reached down for the wand, noting its flat brown and white colour’s seeming to stir as he grasped it. The brown of the wand seemed to stretch and touch his own dark green, pushing and twisting until a very small amount of brown and green mingled together. Harry looked up in confusion before copying the professor’s earlier motion and waving the wand. There was a loud bang and a crack from one of the panes of glass in the window and Harry immediately dropped the wand back into the box in horror at what he had done.

Flitwick and Ollivander seemed utterly unconcerned by the damage, Flitwick absently pointing his wand at the window, restoring it to its undamaged state while Ollivander hummed and took back the box.

“Definitely not that one then, how about this.” This time the old wandmaker went to an alcove a few steps deeper into the store and returned with a slightly dusty box. “Blackthorn and Dragon Heartstring, 12 inches and bendy.” Again, Harry grasped for the wand, watching as again the wands dark red colour tried to merge with his green, a little more of the colour seeped together this time and as Harry waved the wand, he had a little hope for this one. Nothing happened.

Putting the wand back glumly, Harry watched as Ollivander seemed to perk up.

“Very interesting, I like a tricky customer.” This time Ollivander reached out from the counter and pulled a box from a shelf next to him, about halfway up. “Here try this, Holly and Dragon Heartstring 12 ½ inches, supple.” Harry was confused by the man’s excitement but gripped the wand, watching for a moment as the yellow of the wand seemed to eagerly reach out and link with a small part of his green magic. Feeling a little more confident at seeing this, he gave the wand a wave. There was a gust of wind, it kicked up a cloud of dust and sent Harry into a coughing fit. Professor Flitwick once again flicked his wand and the cloud vanished, this time Harry focussed on the wand in the professor’s hand and saw that the silver of the wand had tendrils of colour that stretched all the way up the professor’s arm, the last of the silver reaching his chest and shoulder, and the professors own blue and gold was woven through the wand’s length.

Harry was disheartened, none of the wands he had tried had come close to that level of meshing. The elderly wandmaker actually clapped his hands then, smiling widely.

“Aha, oh we’re very close now.” Ollivander looked at Harry’s face for a moment before nodding and walking deep into the store, he was on the edge of Harry’s awareness when he stopped. There was a clattering noise and a quiet curse before the wandmaker returned to a worried Harry and a chortling Flitwick. Throwing a glare at the smirking professor, Ollivander held out a very dusty box. “Rowan and Phoenix Feather 12 inches exactly, supple.” Harry reached for the wand, nearing desperation and gasped when his fingers met the wood. The wand’s golden red light was already partway up his elbow when he grasped it fully and he waited for a moment. The wand’s gold and red stretched and weaved its way around his arm and reached his chest before stopping. This was his wand.

With a grand wave of the wand, flames of red and green spilled from the tip and circled Harry, tongues of the fire licking his face for a moment before it vanished.

“Oh bravo! An excellent showing!” Ollivander cheered as Professor Flitwick clapped and whistled. Harry blushed and thanked the two wizards before turning back to the wandmaker.

“This wand will serve you well Mr. Potter. The Rowan I cut from the oldest of its kind in Europe, from an island off the coast of Iceland and combined with a feather from the oldest phoenix in Britain, oh yes, a potent combination. This wand will work well in any branch of sorcery, but it will excel in defensive magic.” Harry thanked the wandmaker and, at Filius’ prompting, also asked for a wand holster. The wandmaker handed him a harness of rough scaled leather with a sheath that Harry could wear over his shirt and would allow him to keep the wand safer than if it was in a pocket.

As Harry paid, he leant his cane against the counter to try his holster on and Ollivander reached out and lifted it from the ground, holding it to his ear as if he could hear something from the wood.

“Come and see me in the summer before your second year, I might have something you could use.” The eccentric wandmaker handed Harry back the cane and as they left the shop, Harry heard the man mutter something about “better than Lucius’ silly thing at least” and then the door had closed, and they were back in the bustle of Diagon Alley.

The professor clapped Harry on the back before leading him back to the side alley they had first arrived in, Harry following behind dragging his oddly light trunk and tapping his cane in front of him.

“Deep breath again then Harry I’m afraid.” Harry grimaced but offered his arm to the professor and sucked in a breath as he was once again wrenched through a twisting tube of darkness before his feet hit solid ground again and he could gasp for breath. He didn’t mention it, but that had been less uncomfortable than the first time. Though still not an enjoyable experience.

“Well done, Harry, most people are …well they are unwell after their first apparition, but you’ve done marvellously. Now, I can see your uncle’s motor vehicle in the driveway so perhaps I should leave you here? I wouldn’t want to antagonise the man.” Harry nodded and thanked the professor.

“It was very nice of you to come and help me, sir. Thank you for all your help.” Flitwick smiled at that and patted Harry gently on the arm.

“I think, when not in class, Filius will do just fine Harry. And it was my pleasure, I will see you in a week. Remember Platform 9 ¾ at Kings Cross and the train leaves at 11am so arrive before then.” With a nod and humming a cheery tune, Filius turned and walked a few paces before he disappeared without a sound. Harry stood for a few moments, watching as the last of Filius’ azure magic faded from the spot.

He reached beneath his jacket and relished the warmth from his new wand before, with a sigh, he turned and made his way to Number 4 Privet Drive. Only a week to go and then Hogwarts, and he would be able to learn magic properly. He would live up to his parents’ legacy.

[End of Chapter 3]

A/N Hi everyone! I will be slowing down the chapters a little now, these first three were written a few weeks ago, but from now on I will be releasing a chapter twice a week or so.

Again, please leave reviews, they are so helpful, and they really show that people are liking the story so far. And if you are not enjoying the story, then tell me why and maybe I can work on that too!

Thank you for all the support, it means a lot!

[Updated 05/09/2022]

A/N Hi everyone! I have had a couple of messages asking about this so thought I would explain a few things here.

Yes, Harry can see magic, but this is not the same as seeing a “soul” I am treating them as two different things here, linked to be sure, but separate and Harry can only see the magic of a person so he won’t just see Quirrell’s head and know something dodgy is going on.

Yes, Christopher Judge in the previous chapter was a reference to GoW, great catch on those who found it, I needed a name and had just watched an interview he did so I decided to throw it in.

Again, I want to thank everyone who has followed, favourited and reviewed! Its amazing to see so many people enjoying my work. I will be looking for a Beta reader soon so if you would like to throw your name in the ring then please send me a PM on here.

And please keep following and reviewing if you like the story and want more!

The next chapter will likely be tomorrow afternoon.

Thanks!

Daedalus

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

September 1st

Harry was awoken by a gentle shaking. His aunt having woken him, held a finger to his lips and quietly whispered to him.

“Quickly change, the taxi should be here in a little bit.” She kissed him softly atop his head and left him to change, shuffling quietly into the kitchen.

Harry grabbed the neatly folded trousers and button-up shirt that his aunt had left for him and quickly dressed himself, running a hurried hand down the front of the shirt to confirm that he hadn’t missed a button before pulling on his trousers. He grabbed his glasses from their spot beside the polish on the small shelf behind him and then carefully closed the door as he stood. He spent a moment listening carefully for the sound of heavy footfalls from upstairs but after half a minute of naught but snores, he was satisfied that his uncle remained unaware of his upcoming departure.

He turned as he felt his aunt returning from the kitchen, she was carrying a parcel wrapped in brown paper which she had him store in his trunk, wincing when the lid closed again with a dull thud. She was completely silent as she helped him put on his jacket and handed him his cane before she opened the door and lifted his trunk outside.

Outside the sun had barely risen and had yet to burn off the early morning mist leaving everything wreathed in a grey fog. A few doors down, a taxi sat, its engine rumbling softly as Petunia led Harry towards it. She gave Harry a £50 note and had him tuck it into his jacket, then she handed him an envelope with his name printed in braille across the front which he tucked into his pocket. The taxi driver, a pleasant man who introduced himself as Joe, helped them load the trunk into the boot as Petunia explained that it was Harry’s first year at boarding school, and he was to catch the train from Kings Cross Station.

Petunia kissed Harry again and gave him a brief hug before he climbed into the taxi, she waved and wished him good luck as the taxi pulled away, and soon she left Harry’s awareness completely. Leaving Harry alone with Joe, who seemed to take pity on him and began to ask him about himself. Soon Joe had to stop the conversation as they hit the motorway, leaving Harry to his own devices in the back.

Harry decided to read the envelope Petunia had given him, he opened it and was surprised to find that it was from Professor Flitwick and not his aunt.

Dear Harry,

I realised that I did not give you all the information for boarding the Hogwarts Express, but having thought about it, I have decided to make this a little test for you.

Now, inside this envelope there is a small, folded piece of paper, at 10am on September 1st this piece of paper will reveal the secret to reaching Platform Nine & Three Quarters in Kings Cross Station.

However, I would like you to try to find the secret for yourself, using whatever tools and tricks you have at your disposal. You can of course at any time decide to simply read the note and find the answer that way, but I have a feeling that you are a curious soul and will enjoy the challenge.

I enjoyed our time together in Diagon Alley and if you require an escort again next year, I would be happy to volunteer.

Good Luck Harry!

Yours sincerely,

Filius Flitwick

Master of Charms

P.S Castamir says hello and wishes you good luck in your first year!

Harry read through the letter twice before he folded it carefully and returned it to the envelope. He fought with a brief urge to check the other note in the envelope before he slipped the envelope into his jacket pocket and settled in for the rest of the journey, mind already abuzz with ideas for how to find the secret to Platform 9 3/4.

They reached Kings Cross in good time and Joe helped Harry with his trunk and wished him good luck after Harry assured him that there would be someone waiting to help him on the platform. Gripping his cane and the handle of his trunk tightly, Harry made his way up the stairs and into the station, it was bustling but Harry was able to make his way to platform nine with relative ease.

Harry found a bench and sat down to observe platforms 9 and 10. He relaxed his body as he focussed on the platforms, searching for the tell-tale flash of colour that seemed to accompany most magic he had seen so far. The clock above him struck ten as he moved his focus from platform 10 to platform 9 and he felt the temptation to check the note in his pocket when he saw it. Just very briefly. Two people had just disappeared from platform 9. They had been walking towards the wall between the platforms and suddenly they had vanished.

He redoubled his efforts with that clue to follow and after several minutes of watching, he found something. A very thin line, so thin and faint it was barely visible. Just a vague seam of light that ran down the brick wall, and as he watched he noticed more people approaching, as they neared the line seemed to thicken, growing brighter and bolder. They were mere feet from crashing into the wall when suddenly the line blazed into light, and split, forming an archway in the wall which swallowed the three who had stepped through it.

Harry did not know how he had missed it before, although perhaps that was a part of the enchantment he realised, to disguise or hide the passageway. He watched as a train disgorged its passengers on platform 9 and as they passed by the wall, there was no reaction from the magic. The wall stayed mundane, ordinary. Until again, he watched as this time a pair, a father and son it looked like, approached with a trolley loaded with a trunk, and again, mere moments before a painful collision, the line awoke and formed the bright archway again as they passed through, seemingly unscathed.

Deciding that he had waited long enough, Harry stood and made his way towards the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. He was barely five feet from the wall and preparing to turn away when it happened. The white line twitched. And as he took another step closer, it brightened. His cane was touching the wall when the archway finally formed, and he was able to step through.

He had to pause for a moment as he stepped onto Platform 9 ¾, as his awareness caught up with his sudden movement. He was in an entirely new area, large and spacious, with a few people scattered across the platform, the sudden change was disorienting. It was a little like when the Professor had apparated him, but even more sudden and without the soothing darkness to transition between the two states. He took several deep breaths, tightening his grip on his cane and focussing on just his breathing as Filius had showed him in Diagon Alley.

It took a minute, but eventually he was able to process his surroundings normally again and as he made his way towards the edge of the platform, he was amazed. Ahead was a great steam locomotive trailed by several large train carriages. The train was glowing with magic. Scarlet symbols and lines shifting across its surface. A ripple of colour that hovered just above the train’s exterior, with some of the lines dipping beneath the wooden panels before resurfacing further along the train. It was a marvel to watch, and he had to tear his focus from the magic when his cane tapped against the edge of the platform.

Harry was grateful once again for the enchantments on his trunk as he lifted it with little effort onto the train and as he found an empty compartment, he vowed to visit Castamir again to thank him in person. He retrieved his wand and holster along with the Standard Book of Spells Grade One from his trunk before he stored it in the overhead bracket and sat down. He removed his jacket to sling on the harness that wrapped around the tops of his arms and back before tucking his wand into the holster beneath his left arm and opening his book. He leant his cane against the window as he ran his fingers across the page of the book, already hungrily devouring the introduction before he moved on to the first chapter.

He had been reading for some time before he was disturbed by a knock on the door of the compartment. Startled, he returned his focus to his sight and was surprised by two young girls stood outside the door, he turned to face them as the taller of the two slid the door open and stepped partway inside.

“Hi, I’m sorry but do you mind if we sit here? A lot of the other compartments are full already.” The girl asked nervously, her voice was pleasant and soft. Harry felt for the two girls who seemed a little lost.

“Yes of course, please come in.” Harry gestured to the empty bench across from him and smiled in what he hoped was a welcoming way.

The two girls entered quickly and closed the door, Harry helped them with lifting their trunks into the storage rack before they sat down. A moment later, there was a shrill whistle from the front of the train. The whistle sounded again before, with a lurch, the train began to move. Harry could hear tearful goodbyes being shouted to the train, and a few being called back to the platform, as the train began to pick up speed.

Harry watched the magic brighten and weave around the carriage exterior as the train pulled away, wondering at its purpose. He was so engrossed in this that he almost missed the question from the girl opposite him and had to sheepishly ask her to repeat the question.

“Oh, its okay. I was just introducing myself. I’m Susan Bones, and this is Hannah, we’re first years, you’re one too, right?” The taller girl seemed a little more confident now and as Harry watched, her sunflower yellow magic seemed to grow a little brighter, its flow was like a current in a river, moving throughout her. The girl beside her, Hannah, had magic that was a darker mahogany red and was far more placid and still than Susan’s excitedly shifting tides.

“Hello Susan, Hannah.” Harry nodded to the so far silent girl. “I’m Harry, yes, I’m a first year too. I’m very excited to be learning magic!” This seemed to be the right thing to say as suddenly he was inundated by questions, he told the girls about how he hadn’t known about magic until Professor Flitwick came, and that apparently his parents were magic, but they died when he was a baby. Harry also learned that Susan lived with her aunt, who was friends with Hannah’s parents, so the girls had been close their whole lives, and both had known about magic since they were children. Harry also learned that Susan’s parents had died when she was a baby as well.

“Is it rude to ask about-?” Hannah gestured to Harry’s tinted glasses and cane before she yelped as Susan elbowed her. Harry chuckled at the sound before waving his hand to Susan to stop her.

“It’s okay, I’m not completely blind, I can see shapes and things but its mostly darkness.” Harry felt bad for lying to the girls, but Filius had warned him against spreading knowledge of his sight and he had only just met the girls, nice as they were. “Professor Flitwick said it happened when my parents were killed, something about a curse rebounding.” Harry shrugged as both girls gasped.

“Wai – Wait, you’re Harry Potter?” Hannah asked, shocked and for a moment Harry considered denying it before he sighed and nodded.

He was prepared to answer the inevitable questions, to which he had no answers, but was surprised when the girls just nodded. Seeing his confused expression, Susan spoke up.

“My aunt told us that you had been spotted in Gringotts and that the old rumours were true, that you had been injured that night. She told us both that we should just treat you like anyone else; I understand what it’s like to lose your parents.” Susan sniffed before continuing. “And we won’t ask anything about that night.”

Harry sighed in relief; he had been dreading that very thing. Wanting to move the conversation to safer topics, Harry decided to steer the talk back to Hogwarts.

“So, you two must already know some magic from your parents? Or your aunt?” Harry was nervous about the answer to this but decided it would be best to learn now how far behind he would be.

“Oh no, none at all really. I mean, we’ve seen loads of magic, but my aunt wouldn’t even let me hold her wand, let alone cast anything with it.” Susan explained while Hannah nodded along. “I wasn’t even allowed to practice with my wand after I got it, aunty threatened to turn me into a goldfish if she even saw a spark!” Hannah giggled at that and even Harry struggled not to laugh as Susan slumped and pouted.

“My mum was the same, but my dad told me that once we’re on the Express we can cast magic without the Trace going off!” Hannah whispered conspiratorially. It took only moments for the three young witches and wizard to draw the blinds on the door and begin discussing what magic they should try first.

Harry and Susan, being a little more cautious, wanted to start with the simple wand-lighting charm, but Hannah was arguing for the bluebell fire charm and only after they pointed out that they had no way to put such a fire out, did Hannah give in, albeit reluctantly.

With the spell decided on, Harry reopened his book and found the page on the wand-lighting charm at the beginning. Once he had found the correct page, he began to read aloud the description.

“The wand-lighting charm is a staple in any witch or wizard’s arsenal. When in doubt, a little light is rarely a bad thing to have at hand. The wand movement is a short jab forward and the incantation is ‘Lumos’ pronounced ‘Loo-moss’. The caster must picture the light they wish to cast in their mind clearly as they pronounce the spell carefully. The brightness of the charm is also dependent on the wizard’s trinity, the caster’s will, imagination, and knowledge, in this case the caster’s will and imagination are most necessary. If the light produced is weak or unsteady, then greater focus is likely required. The counter charm is ‘Nox’ and the caster must imagine the light extinguishing for the charm to stop.”

Susan was the first to try the charm, volunteering when none spoke up. She drew her wand from her long sleeve and stabbed it forward as she shouted.

“Lumos!” There had been no immediate reaction. At least none visible to the girls, but Harry had been watching carefully and he had noticed a faint mote of her yellow magic gathering at the tip of her wand before seeming to fizzle and fade.

If Susan was deterred, she didn’t show it as she tried twice more, each time the yellow magic gathering a little longer and it was only after Susan’s third attempt that Harry realised what was wrong. The magic wasn’t forming a proper shape or form. Every spell he had seen cast, the magic formed symbols or lines, something to give it purpose or direction he presumed, but Susan’s magic was just collecting at the end of her wand with no purpose to it.

“Why don’t you try picturing the light you want to make?” Harry suggested, and having no better ideas, Susan closed her eyes and sat quietly for a moment. Her brow furrowed and her nose scrunched as she concentrated hard before she jabbed her wand forward and softly called out.

“Lumos!” This time there was no delay, the yellow magic collected in her wand and coalesced at the tip before it formed a small but bright orb. Harry was not surprised by Hannah’s gasp this time, but he did join in with her clapping and cheers.

After Susan succeeds with casting the spell and then dismissing the light a further three times, it is Hannah’s turn. It took Hannah eight attempts before Harry could see her dark red magic forming an unsteady orb as she succeeded in casting the spell, much to her and Susan’s delight.

The girls soon turned to Harry for his attempt. He did not want to admit it, but he was nervous, he hasn’t seen normal light since he was a baby, and he certainly didn’t remember it. Not knowing how else to proceed, he decided to focus on what he did know. He knew how the spell should look when it was forming. He focussed on his wand, seeing the gold and red mixing with his dark green magic. He pictured the magic flowing into his wand, collecting at the tip, but no matter how hard he concentrated the magic continued to flow around his self as normal.

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Of course, his sight was magic, and he knew how that could be triggered. Feeling inside for the warmth in his chest that accompanied his sight, he pushed but instead of outwards like he normally did, this time he focussed the push down into his wand. He pictured a bead of pure white light shining from the tip of his wand as he intoned.

“Lumos” For a moment there was no change, but then he saw green surging up his wand and swelling at the tip, rolling, and growing. Then darkness. Not just of his wand, but everything. He is blind again.

“Well done, Harry! It was only quick, but that was definitely a light!” Susan cheered.

“Yeah, and on your first try as well!” Hannah clapped him on the shoulder.
Harry was confused for a moment before he realised that his spell had worked, however briefly. Buoyed by his success, he reached for his magic and pushed again but this time he focussed on his awareness, wanting to trigger his Fulgomancy. After brief struggle, the warmth in his chest, his magic, resisted for a moment, before it began to flow again, his awareness erupting out from him again, chasing away the darkness with colour all around him.

Releasing a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding, Harry was pleased to find that Susan and Hannah didn’t seem to have noticed anything odd as he thanked them for their kind encouragement. He was relieved when there was a knock at the door as it distracted the girls from asking for a second attempt, he had no wish to succumb to blindness again any time soon.

Standing in the doorway stood a slightly chubby boy, his deep brown magic was a little like Hagrid’s but flecked with bright greens, like leaves on an old oak tree. The boy was clearly nervous and stuttered out a question about a lost toad.

The girls shook their heads, but Harry knew a fair bit about animals, and recalled everything he had read in the school library about amphibians.

“Have you tried checking the washrooms? Toads and frogs like dark damp spaces normally.” The boys face split into a wide green as he thanked Harry before rushing off.

“Poor Neville, he’s very nice but he’s rather clumsy and shy, I think his grandmother disapproves of his Herbology obsession.” Hannah informed them as she slid the door closed.

The conversation soon returned to Hogwarts and then onto the Houses. Harry knew little of the Hogwarts Houses and didn’t really have a preference as the two girls discussed the merits of each house.

They were discussing the pros and cons of Ravenclaw when the door opened with a slam.

“Oh, it’s you.” The boy scoffed at Harry as he turned to the rude boy from Madam Malkins stood in the doorway. “Someone was saying Harry Potter was in this carriage, have you seen him Bones?” There was a moment where Harry feared she would announce his presence.

“No Malfoy, we haven’t, now we were having a pleasant conversation before you rudely interrupted, so if there’s nothing else?” Susan stood and reached for the door as the rude boy sneered and walked away without another word. “I would avoid him if I were you Harry, his dad … well let’s just say my aunt has always thought he got off too lightly.” She advised as she closed the door and sat back down.

Not long later there was an announcement, a voice echoed down the train to announce they were only 30 minutes away from the station. At this Susan asked Harry if he could step outside while they changed, though Hannah suggested quietly that since Harry was blind, he didn’t really need to. So, a blushing Harry stood outside before the door opened and the girls announced they were dressed. Harry was only swapping his jacket for his robes so allowed the girls to stay.

The train soon slowed to a halt as another announcement instructed them to leave their trunks on the train and disembark. Harry let the girls go in front and followed them out onto the platform, his cane tapping away in front of him. He almost stumbled as he misjudged the distance between the train and the platform, but Susan steadied him with a hand and guided him down.

They followed the crowd of students down the path until they reached a figure Harry recognised, his mammoth form was unique.

“Firs’ Years, follow me!” Shouted Hagrid as he swung his lantern and led them down to a small dock next to an enormous lake. “No more ‘n four to a boat!” The giant warned as he settled himself into a slightly larger boat and gestured for them all to join him.

Harry, Susan, and Hannah all clambered into one and were joined by a cheerful Neville holding his toad who he introduced as Trevor. Neville thanked Harry for his advice as he settled in, but Harry only nodded absently. He was looking at the glowing symbols that covered the boat they were in. Most were a pale blue, but a few were a dark yellow and all were running along the surface of the wood, like little fish swimming in a river as they flowed around each other.

With a heavy slap from Hagrid’s massive hand on the exterior of his boat, all the boats gave a jolt as they began to sail across the lake’s surface. There were a few splashes from behind along with squeals at the chill of the lake water, before Harry was surrounded by gasps of excitement.

“We can see Hogwarts from here Harry,” Susan explained gently. “Its beautiful, its huge and filled with lights, I’m sorry you can’t see it for yourself.”

Harry sighed sadly, he had long grown used to the limits of his form of sight and one of them was his lack of vision over great distances. It was a shame he did not get to see the castle in its entirety, but he would be able to witness its magic, and he consoled himself with that knowledge as the boats passed through a long tunnel.

It didn’t take long for the boats to reach the far side of the lake and as they stepped onto land, Harry was the one to let out a gasp. There was a wall of magic ahead of him. Only a few steps away was a veritable kaleidoscope of coloured lines and symbols stretching into the ground and reaching up into the sky as far as he could see. The majority of the magic was blue, red, green and yellow, with a few other colours interspersed throughout but the depth and brightness were incredible, and Harry stumbled as he tried to tear his focus from the entrancing magic.

As Hagrid lead the first years up a path and through the wall, Harry watched as strands of the colours seemed to reach out touch each person who passes through, just brushing against them before they crossed the boundary. He shuddered to think what might happen if the magic didn’t want you to enter.

They followed Hagrid up to the castle and to a set of large wooden doors where the giant knocked heavily twice. Almost immediately the doors opened revealing a tall witch, her crimson magic swelling and settling as she stepped forward to greet the man.

“The firs-years, Professor McGonagall.” Hagrid said in his deep rumbling voice.

The witch nodded to the large man.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” She said in a stern tone with a slight Scottish accent.

The witch then turned and gestured for the group to follow her before making her way inside the castle. Inside the castle entrance hall was lit by flickering torches lining the walls next to suits of armour and a series of statues in the corners. The Professor led the group across the hall until she reached another set of large doors, not far from a stone staircase. She stopped and turned to the group before the doors, looking them all over before clearing her throat.

“Welcome to Hogwarts” She began. “The start-of-term feast will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony, while you are here your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

The four Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house
becomes yours.

‘The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are
waiting.”

She nodded sternly at them and then whirled around and made her way to a smaller door a little further up from the grand hall doors.

Immediately conversation broke out among the crowd as theories were discussed, some far wilder than others. Harry, Susan, Hannah and Neville stood together as Hannah tugged Neville’s cloak down from beneath his ear.

They stood waiting nervously for a few minutes before the doors swung open to reveal Professor McGonagall, and behind her, the Great Hall. Four long tables stretched down the length of the hall, with banners and lit braziers hanging from the rafters above.

The stern witch instructed them to form a line and follow her as she turned and lead them to the front of the hall where a raggedy pointed hat sat upon a small stool. As they reached the front of the Hall, Harry saw a few colours he recognised; Hagrid’s warm brown, Filius’ blue and gold, and beside them some new colours. One figure had magic of dark grey that sat still and unmoving, another had pale yellow magic that seemed much dimmer than the others, and the man in the centre had dark violet magic dotted with white, dark and deep with stars of white twinkling from within.

Professor McGonagall stopped the line as she stepped up to the stool and turned to face the hall which grew silent. As Harry watched he noticed the hat, which before had seemed rather plain, seemed to draw in colour from the air around it, streams of red, blue, green, and yellow filling it as it seemed to expand and straighten itself. Once the hat was saturated with colour, a small rip near its brim tore open before-

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

(Taken from The Philosophers Stone – not mine!)

The hall cheered and applauded as the hat closed its mouth and settled back before Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and unrolled a scroll that seemed too large to fit in her pocket.

“Abbot, Hannah” There was an audible gulp from the girl as she stepped forward with a pat on the arm from Susan. She sat on the stool and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head, its wide brim falling far enough to cover most of her face. A few moments of silence before-

“HUFFLEPUFF!” The hat shouted and the table to Harry’s left erupted into cheers and claps as Hannah made her way down to the table, a thread of blue magic flashing between her and the hat for a moment before dissipating.

“Bones, Susan” Was the next name to be called and Harry gave the girl an encouraging smile as she made her way up to the stool. The hat was on her head for a little longer, almost a minute before it called out again.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” Again, the table to Harry’s left erupted into cheers, with Hannah stood clapping for her friend.

Next up was Terrence Boot, a tall blonde boy, who was sorted into Ravenclaw, the table to Harry’s right cheering at this. Then a short girl, Mandy Brocklehurst, who was also sorted into Ravenclaw. After that were two girls, one sorted to Gryffindor and the other into Slytherin. Harry had begun to grow nervous about his own sorting and lost track of most of the other sorting’s, though he did notice when Neville was called up and sat for almost three minutes before the Hat sorted him into Gryffindor.

A few minutes later Draco Malfoy was called up, he pushed his way to the front and the Hat had barely touched his head before it shouted “SLYTHERIN!” and the boy strutted over to the far-left table as they cheered loudly for him.

Soon it was Harry’s turn, Professor McGonagall called out “Potter, Harry” and the hall fell silent as Harry made his slow way up to the front, his cane tapping in front of him, the sound echoing through the hall.

Harry sat on the stool, his hands gripping his cane tightly, before McGonagall lowered the hat over his head, the brim covering his glasses. The moment the hat was upon his head, the volume of the hall picked up again, whispers of ‘blind’ and ‘crippled’ crept across the tables.

Harry would have been more embarrassed, but he had been distracted by the tendrils of magic that filled the Hat as they swirled around him, fingers of multicoloured magic brushing up against his own forest green. He was barely surprised when the voice echoed within his mind.

“Hmmm, difficult. VERY difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. A loyalty there as well, to friends you have only just met and made as well. A thirst to prove yourself, to live up to your parents’ legacy. Oh, and a keen mind, very eager to learn, aren’t you?” The deep voice resounded within his head.

Harry didn’t know if the Hat was asking him or just talking to itself and settled on simply watching the unique magic it held instead. It was interesting, the four colours flowed and swirled around each other, but each remained distinct from the next.

“Very difficult indeed, you would fit well in any of the houses. Slytherin perhaps? They would help you on your path to greatness, no doubt there.”

The image of the arrogant Malfoy boy flickered across his mind and he recoiled a little at the thought of sharing a house with the boy and others like him for seven years.

“Ahh yes, a pity, but I suppose since you have already chosen your mentor, who am I to stand between you.” A pause. “Perhaps it is fitting, after all you have her sight.”

“RAVENCLAW!” Roared the hat and the table once again began to cheer and clap, a few even stood to applaud as he made his way down the table to the open space next to young Terrence Boot. The boy welcomed Harry with a pat on the back and introduced himself as Terry, his pale sky-blue magic a soothing colour.

The two boys were quickly joined by another, Oliver Rivers, who sat opposite them and introduced himself. His magic a dark orange, he was quiet but seemed friendly enough.

Soon the sorting ended with a Blaise Zabini being sorted into Slytherin. The hat and stool were carried out by Professor McGonagall as the man whose violet magic was so entrancing stood.

“Welcome to a new year here at Hogwarts!” There was another cheer from the tables before the man continued. “Before we begin our feat, I would just like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!” At the last word a flash of colour appeared over each table before being replaced by mounds of food. Platters of roasted meats, vegetables cooked every way, bread rolls and pies covered the tables. It smelled incredible and Harry hadn’t eaten since sharing the sandwiches and flask of tea his aunt had packed on the train, so he dug in.

Terry asked a few questions to everyone seated around them as they ate, he had a very friendly and likeable quality and made most of them laugh a few times. A few older boys sat further up the table asked Harry about his eyes partway through the meal and he decided to stick to the story he had given Susan and Hannah, so he told the table that he could see vague dark shapes but not much detail and anything distant was impossible for him to see, so he used his cane to help him navigate. This was not far from the truth as he did struggle with some details and he did use the cane to help navigate, his sight was not perfect and he often missed small dips or changes in the ground, his cane had saved him from falling many times. And things made of plastic or certain metals had a fuzziness to them which made it very difficult for Harry to see them properly.

A few of the older girls had cooed at this and one of them, Penelope Clearwater, she later introduced herself as, told him that if he ever needed help navigating the castle then he could come to her.

Once the food was gone, Professor Dumbledore stood again.

“Thank you! Now, to our new students, I bid you welcome, and to our returning students, welcome back! Now I have a few start of term notices I wish to announce. For our first years please note that the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch has asked me to inform you that the list of banned items has been increased to include Fanged Frisbees and Japes Stinking Powder, the full list, which I believe now numbers 137 items, can be found outside Mr. Filch’s office. And finally, I must inform you that the third floor corridor in the west wing past the old alchemy classroom is now out of bounds to any who do not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you” The Headmaster sat back down and turned to talk with Professor McGonagall beside him which seemed to be the sign for the hall to empty.

Penelope and a tall boy who introduced himself as Jeremy, called for all the first years to follow them as they made their way out of the Hall. Harry followed Terry to the doors and then across to the large stone staircase. As they stepped onto the staircase there was a shudder and scraping sound before the staircase began to shift.

“Yes, be warned the staircases move, normally you will find they help, sometimes to avoid a crowd or reach a classroom quicker, but they do have a mind of their own and have been known to play tricks.” Jeremy explained as the stairs settled in their new position and he led the group up and through a corridor, then up another flight of stairs and along another corridor before they reached a bronze statue of an eagle, its wings unfurled wide and a large round brass ring hanging from its beak.

Jeremy reached up and knocked with the ring once, causing the eagle to suddenly shiver and shift, its beak opening before a deep voice asked.

“What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?” Jeremy turned to the group then as they stood in confusion.

“In order to enter Ravenclaw Tower, you must answer the guardian’s riddle, if you can’t or get stuck, you will have to wait for someone else to come along and try. You only get one attempt per person. It was Madam Ravenclaw’s way of teaching even when not in class. Does anyone want to try?” Penelope explained as she gestured to the bronze statue.

There was some whispering before Terry piped up.

“It’s the letter M I think?” As he finished speaking the eagle shifted its head to look at him for a moment before it replied.

“Be more confident in your answers, but well thought out.” The eagle dipped its head slightly before it folded its wide wings to reveal a doorway behind it, which Jeremy led the group through.

The common room had walls of deep blue with silver accents and the ceiling was enchanted like the Great Hall to mirror the night sky above. There was a small fireplace with several sofas and comfy chairs around it, towards the back was a group of tables and chairs next to a large wooden bookshelf and beside that were two staircases that disappeared above.

“Right, well welcome to Ravenclaw. We are the house of knowledge, but that doesn’t mean we expect you to be geniuses, we don’t expect perfection, we just expect you to work hard and do your best. We are seekers of knowledge, either for a purpose or just for the joy of the process. Over there is where we study, there will always be a prefect there to assist you with your studies, but they are there to help and guide you, not to do your work for you.

We also have a small library, filled with books donated by Ravenclaw alumni, you cannot remove the books from the common room, and you must return the books in good condition. This is a privilege and if you damage the books, you will be punished appropriately.” Jeremy looked them all over and nodded before continuing his speech. He explained a few other rules and then informed them that if they gathered here at 7:30 tomorrow morning, he would escort them to the Hall for breakfast and point out most of the classrooms they would be using in their first year.

As Jeremy finished his speech, the door to the common room swung open to reveal the form of Professor Flitwick. The professor made his way to the front of the room and hopped up onto a footstool before he turned to the group.

“Hello new Ravenclaw’s! I am Professor Flitwick, Master of Charms here at Hogwarts and Head of Ravenclaw House. I know you have all had an exciting and tiring day so I will keep this brief for you. You will see me pop in at least once a week here to check on things, if you have any questions for me, you can of course ask me then, but I also have the afternoons on Monday’s, Wednesday’s, and Fridays after classes when I will be in my office and available for any questions or if you just want a cup of tea. Of course, in an emergency I am always available and if you do need me urgently, you can call out for Rook in the common room or dormitories, and I will be here as soon as I am able. Now I am sure you are all exhausted so, I will see you all tomorrow at breakfast. Goodnight!” With that the professor jumped down from the stool and after a brief conversation with Penelope, he left the common room.

The group of first years were indeed exhausted and so were shown to their dormitories, the girls taking one staircase and the boys the other. The boys’ room was large and the five boys noticed that their beds all had their trunks in front of them, and above was a small plaque with the name for each bed.

‘Harry Potter’
‘Terry Boot’
‘Oliver Rivers’
‘Anthony Goldstein’
‘Michael Corner’

The latter two of the boys were apparently old friends and chatted away to themselves as the boys all prepared for bed. Harry was pleased to find that the side table next to his bed had a small hook that he could slide his cane into, it made it far easier to find in the mornings.

Exhausted by the long day, the boys all fell asleep quickly, Harry’s last thoughts were of excitement at the prospect of learning magic. Though he did remind himself that he would need to speak with Professor Flitwick about the problem he had with his sight on the train when he had cast the wand-lighting charm. It was worrying and he did not want to give up his Fulgomancy, even in exchange for casting magic. But that was a problem for tomorrow, he was more interested in watching the faint lines of magic that threaded throughout the ceiling of the room, watching even as he drifted into sleep.

[End of Chapter 4]

A/N Hey everyone, apologies I know I told a few of you that this would be released yesterday, but while I was editing, I decided to combine what was originally two shorter chapters into one longer one.

I hope you all like the chapter, I tried to keep elements of canon in there, but this story WILL be different to canon, diverging more and more as time goes on.

I’ve had a few people ask about bashing and I will say now, although there are some bashing stories that work well, some also go too far and are just annoying. I will be writing this story with the original characters in mind, but with Harry not being in Gryffindor there are things that will not be the same, for instance Ron and Hermione will not be Harry’s best friends in this, not because I don’t think they would be friends with a blind Harry, but just because I wanted to mix things up and explore different relationships and how they would affect the story.

Thank you to everyone who has followed, favourited, and reviewed! I have been blown away by the support the story has gathered.

Please continue to review if you like the story, and if you don’t like parts then please do tell me so I can work on it!

Many thanks,

Daedalus Smythe

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Harry awoke to the sound of rustling movement to his left, for a moment he was confused at his surroundings, the soft bed beneath him and the warm sheets that lay atop his body, before he remembered where he was. With a deep breath, he climbed out of bed and took a moment to observe his surroundings.

It seemed that he was the only one fully awake, though Terry was stirring behind his drapes. Harry made his way to the bathroom, clutching his towel in one hand while the other brushed along the wall to his right. After a quick shower, he returned to the room to find Terry awake and on his way into the bathroom. He noticed Terry freeze for a moment and wondered at the cause before he remembered his glasses, or rather the lack of them. The glasses hid his eyes and the worst of the scarring, he had learnt a long time ago that people didn’t like seeing his milky eyes and the burns that surrounded them. He was about to apologise to Terry when the boy seemed to shake himself and continue his path past Harry.

“Good morning Harry, are the showers any good? I was too tired for one last night.” Terry greeted him cheerfully. Harry nodded his head as he turned slightly to make room for the taller boy.

“Morning Terry, yes they’re lovely.” Harry made his way to his bed and immediately snatched up his glasses, slipping them onto his face and covering his eyes. He sat with a sigh, his hand trembling as he reached out for his cane, gripping it tightly in his hand until his knuckles whitened. He hadn’t removed his glasses in front of anyone in years, not even his Aunt Petunia. It was a silly mistake, and one he wouldn’t make again, nobody would like to see his scars in full.

He took a few deep breaths before he opened his trunk and pulled out his clothes for the day, the handy braille tags his aunt had stitched into each item letting him know what they were and the colour. Over his shirt went his tie and then his wand holster before he slipped his open front robes over the top of it all.

By the time he was finished getting dressed, Terry had returned from the bathroom and was halfway dressed as well. Harry lingered for a moment longer as he grabbed his bag and picked his cane back up and the two ventured down to the common room together in a comfortable silence.

They weren’t the first to the common room, there were a few older students sat scribbling notes by the bookshelf and in front of the fireplace Jeremy and Penelope were sat discussing exams until Harry and Terry neared them.

“Hello boys, eager for your first day, eh?” Jeremy asked them cheerily while Penelope gestured to the sofa opposite her and Jeremy’s chairs. “I’m afraid we will have to wait for the rest of your year to come down before we make a move, but feel free to browse the books while we wait, we still have ten minutes.”

Harry retrieved the charms book from his bag and opened it up to where he had gotten to at home, the book did a good job of describing the spells and effects as well as how they were developed. Terry decided to pepper Jeremy with questions about classes instead, asking what spells they would be learning first and if there was a place for them to practice them. Jeremy was quick to reply, informing Terry that the spells changed every few years but that they would likely be learning the wood to metal transfiguration and the wand-lighting charm first before they moved onto more complicated spells like the animation charm for the end of the year.

Soon the common room filled as students descended the stairs and congregated in the common room. Once all the first years had gathered, Harry had put his book away by then to discuss the wand-lighting charm with Terry and Penelope, who insisted the boys call her Penny, Jeremy called out for them all to follow him as he led them out of the common room and down a flight of stairs, pointing out the Charms corridor and the classroom they would be using for the first year. Then it was down several more staircases until they reached the Dungeons, which Penny explained was where the Slytherin common room was, they were shown the Potions laboratory and Professor Snape’s office before being led back upstairs.

The two prefects led the group back up a few flights and through a few corridors before they reached the transfiguration corridor and were pointed to the classroom they would be using for the first year. Then it was down and out the main doors as they were shown the path to the greenhouses before they returned to the Entrance Hall and made their way into the Great Hall.

As they sat down to eat, Jeremy informed the group of where the Library was and the Hospital Wing, the group of hungry first years all nodded and mumbled their thanks as they set upon the platters of food with a vengeance, it was tiring work to wander all over a castle.

The Great Hall was barely half full when they first settled but there was already food covering the tables and Harry lifted a ladle from a bowl nearby and gave it a wary sniff before he recognised the familiar scent of oats and eagerly took a few ladles of the warm porridge. Terry also took some porridge as well as a couple of apples, one of which he offered to Harry who took it with a quick thanks.
Michael and Anthony were gulping down glasses of juice by the jugful as they chewed through bacon and eggs and Oliver had to snatch the last jug within arms reach and offer it around to save it from their thirst. Harry tried a sip of the strange smelling juice and was immediately struck by the sweetness, it was a little cloying, it tasted like someone had blended an apple pie with plenty of cinnamon and nutmeg. It was delicious, but Harry had to turn the jug away when it came back around, it was far too sweet for breakfast. Terry seemed to empathise with his reluctance as he offered another, so far untouched jug which was filled with water that Harry happily topped up his cup from.

Harry was happily sipping from his strange bronze goblet as the Hufflepuff’s entered the Great Hall and he was pleased when both Susan and Hannah greeted him as they sat down at their table. Terry nudged Harry’s elbow and he quickly introduced the girls to his housemate; they were going through the introductions when they were interrupted by a gentle cough.

Professor Flitwick stood smiling at them holding a small stack of papers and next to him was a short (though stood next to Professor Flitwick she did seem taller) slightly plump witch who was also smiling at the group of first years and carrying a stack of parchment as well.

“Here are your class timetables gentlemen.” Professor Flitwick handed the two Ravenclaw boys their timetables before moving down to the other first years and handing sheets of parchment to them before making his way up to the head table.

Harry ran his fingers across his timetable and was pleased to note that it was typed in braille as he read the list.

Timetable

Monday

9:00 – 10:30 Charms

10:30 – 12:00 Defence Against the Dark Arts

12:00 – 14:00 Lunch

14:00 – 15:30 History of Magic

Tuesday

9:00 – 10:30 Transfiguration

10:30 – 12:00 Transfiguration

12:00 – 14:00 Lunch

14:00 – 15:30 Herbology

Wednesday

9:00 – 10:30 Charms

10:30 – 12:00 Charms

12:00 – 14:00 Lunch

14:00 – 15:30 Study/Free Time

23:00 – 01:00 Astronomy

Thursday

9:00 – 10:30 Study/Free time

10:30 – 12:00 Defence Against the Dark Arts

12:00 – 14:00 Lunch

14:00 – 15:30 Transfiguration

Friday

9:00 – 10:30 Potions

10:30 – 12:00 Potions

12:00 – 14:00 Lunch

14:00 – 15:30 History of Magic

For the first month of term

Saturday

10:00 – 12:00 Flying

As Harry read through the timetable Jeremy stood and made his way over to him and Terry and explained the different lesson lengths.

“For the first year, all of you have to be brought up to the same level, so you need to be taught all the fundamentals, the theory behind the basics. Once second year starts, you’ll have double lessons, but they start to show you the more practical magics and introduce little aspects of the elective’s you can choose, so in Herbology Professor Sprout might start bringing up magical creatures a little, and in Charms you might discuss some basic runes to do with enchanting.” Jeremy explained before reminding them that they only had fifteen minutes before their Charms class.
Harry was about to stand when suddenly an owl swooped down into his awareness and gently dropped a rectangular package in his lap. He reached down and ran his fingers across the box, finding a small note tied around the box. The note was written it braille and read –

Dear Harry,

It occurred to me that you might have need of something to write with and I thought this seemed a little easier to carry around than a typewriter. It’s a prototype, but you should be able to tap the quill inside with your wand and it will write down everything said, so you can use it in class for notes, or dictate your own work to it. The quill will write in braille, it’s a tricky combination of charms so if it seems to stop working, let Filius know and he will send it back to me.

Good luck with your first year.

Your friend,

Castamir Leventis

Harry smiled as he opened the wooden box to reveal a feather quill, it glowed a deep purple with stars of copper red dotted throughout to his sight. He closed the box and slipped it into his bag as he and Terry stood and made their way out of the Great Hall, they were met by Susan and Hannah at the stairs and the small group made their way to the Charms classroom together.

The door to the classroom was closed but a moment after they arrived it swung open and Professor Flitwick’s familiar voice invited them inside. The classroom was arranged in tiers, with seats and desks sitting higher the further back you went in the room. The front of the room was dominated by a large chalkboard and in front of it was a lectern where the Professor was stood, a thick tome open in front of him.

Harry followed Terry’s lead and the group made their way up to the second row, the added height giving them a slightly better view of the board, not that it would affect Harry’s view much anyway.

The group pulled out their textbooks and some spare parchment, Harry opened the box and withdrew the enchanted quill he had been sent, laying it down next to a small bottle of ink. Professor Flitwick had turned to the large board at this point and seemed to be writing on it, but Harry couldn’t tell what it was that was written, the boards surface a blur in his awareness.

The room filled quickly and once the trickle of students through the door had stopped, the professor cleared his throat and addressed the first years.

“Good morning class, as some of you may already know, I am Professor Flitwick, Charms Master of Hogwarts. In this class, we will be covering the branch of magic that is known as Charms. But what are charms? Well, Charms is a very broad term for an enormous branch of magic. As a general rule, any piece of magic which is used to imbue characteristics or properties to an object, person or place without changing its essential nature, is a charm. This includes things like making a feather float, casting enchantments or wards as well as some duelling spells such as the shield charm. There are other magics which don’t fit within this definition quite as neatly, but are also classified as charms, but you won’t be studying those until much later in your schooling.” Here the professor paused, perhaps to let the students catch up with their notes. Harry had been pleased to find that after tapping his new quill with his wand, it had leapt into the air before drifting across the piece of parchment, a faint wisp of purple drifting across the page behind it and as Harry ran his fingers across it he had felt braille.

“Charms are, if you will forgive my obvious bias, the most useful branch of magic you will study here. There is little that cannot be accomplished by the right combination of charms, and where charms alone might fail, combining charms with other branches of magic allows for endless potential.” Here the professor waved his wand above his head and a rainbow of magic erupted from it, contorting in the air until it formed the shape of a dragon in flight, its mouth agape as it roared soundlessly. The magic took up most of the room and the dragon made of lines of coloured light let out a breath of bright red flame that licked the ceiling before it faded into nothing. Once again Harry was mesmerised by the awesome beauty of magic at work and couldn’t help but imagine himself casting magic like that. The rest of the class let out cheers and screams as the dragon faded away and it took several moments for the room to calm.

“Now, we will, I am afraid to say, have to work up to that particular charm. Today, we will be practicing channelling magic, and to do so you will be learning to perform the wand-lighting charm. If you turn to page eleven in your books it should explain the fundamentals. A simple jab forward, focus on the light you want to create and speak the incantation clearly. Lumos!” The professor held his wand aloft as it let out a bright white light to demonstrate.

Susan and Hannah giggled to themselves as they turned to the page and after a few minutes of silent reading, Professor Flitwick announced he would be having them all attempt the charm. He had them attempt it in groups of four and Hannah was the first of them to try.

She managed a small light, it wavered but it shone, and Professor Flitwick awarded five points to Hufflepuff for her success. Susan was next and also succeeded, her light was perhaps a little brighter than Hannah’s and didn’t waver so much. Again, Flitwick awarded five points and then it was Harry’s turn.

He was still shaken from his attempt on the train and the fear of returning to the dark emptiness from before his sight lingered in his mind. But overpowering the fear, was his desire to do well, to impress Professor Flitwick. So with a deep breath, he pushed his magic into his wand, this time it seemed a little easier, the magic moving a little more smoothly, as he cast ‘Lumos’. And again his awareness began to flicker as the light swelled at his wand tip, darkness closing in until he couldn’t see anything. He waited for a few moments before the fear won out and he released the spell, pushing his magic back outwards again, driving out the dark with colour as his surroundings burst into his minds eye once more.

“Well done, three students succeeding on their first attempt, very good work.” Professor Flitwick eyed the three students for a moment before moving on.

Terry was next and also succeeded in producing a light, though his flickered and sputtered out fairly quickly, he was awarded two points for his attempt. Only a few others managed in their first attempts, the rude Malfoy boy sitting at the back was one of them, he was hard to miss as he loudly scoffed any time someone failed the charm, there was also a girl from Gryffindor who succeeded on her first attempt. By the end of the class though, everyone had managed to produce a light, though some were brighter than others.

Professor Flitwick asked for four inches of parchment on the potential uses of the charm and a brief description of how it felt to cast, recommending they all practice the charm as it would help them all find their “centre’s”. With that he dismissed the class, giving them plenty of time to make it to their next class.

As the class emptied, Harry lingered, letting his friends pass him as he slowly packed his bag until the room had all but emptied. Once it was just the professor and Harry in the room, he hurried over to the Charms Master’s desk.

“Harry, what can I do for you?” Filius asked kindly as he hopped up into his chair.

Harry had been carrying the fear of having to choose between casting magic and seeing and at the professor’s gentle prompt, it all exploded from him. He explained how he had first discovered the problem on the train and again in class, though he did his best to downplay his fear of the emptiness that his sight replaced.

“Hmm, well firstly Harry, do not worry, I know for a fact that it is entirely possible to utilise Fulgomancy and cast magic at the same time.” At this Harry slumped with relief before the Professor continued. “However, perhaps due to your youth when you first started using Fulgomancy, your magic is unused to flowing in multiple directions. This is what you must work on, not only so that you can cast and still see, but also so that you can cast more complex magic.” Another pause. “You say that you push your magic, yes?”

“Yes professor, its like I’m tensing a muscle in my chest, except… well its not a muscle.” Harry tried to explain as the teacher nodded.

“Very well, we will begin there. You were listening when I spoke of finding your centre earlier, yes? Well, you seem to have found your centre but instead of letting the magic flow naturally, you have found a way to force it, impressive but ultimately unnecessary. Your magic is a part of you Harry, it is no different to the blood that flows about your body, and while you can control it by force, true control comes from acceptance. You needn’t force magic to do anything, if you want it to do something it will, you just have to open yourself to it. So tonight, I want you to practice feeling for that ‘muscle’ in your chest, but don’t push it, just feel it, you will know when you have true control.” Here Flitwick leaned across the desk and looked closely at Harry as he warned him. “This will not be a quick endeavour Harry, you might be able to learn how to control your magic in this way in a few weeks, but true control will take you years to achieve. Now, hurry along or you will be late for Professor Quirrell.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Harry said as he turned to leave.

“And Harry, well done today.” Flitwick shouted as he hurried out the door and down to the staircase.

Harry made it to the staircase before he noticed three familiar individuals up ahead, making their way up the stairs.

“Harry! We thought you’d gotten lost, we were coming to find you, are you alright?” Susan asked as she hugged him tightly. Terry patted his arm but said nothing as Hannah also gave him a quick hug, before the girls tugged on his arms as they lead him to the stairs.

“I was just asking Professor Flitwick a question, we still have time before the next class starts, don’t we?” Harry asked as he gripped the stair banister, he was wary of it suddenly moving beneath him.

“If we hurry yes.” Terry answered as they made their way off the stairs and down a corridor, Harry was able to see a few students stepping through the door up ahead and the four managed to slip inside behind them and seat themselves at the last desks available, all up at the front of the class.

They sat down as the teacher stepped out from behind his desk, his pale-yellow magic seemed even dimmer than it had the night before.

“G-Good m-morning cl-class, I am Pr-Pr-Professor Q-Quirrell.” The man seemed nervous, his stutter only exacerbating the sense, and the overwhelming stench of garlic filled the dimly lit room as the professor explained that he would mostly be covering the theory of various magical creatures and some very basic spells later in the term. There was a clatter as a student knocked their inkwell off the desk and Professor Quirrell dived to the floor, his hands covering his turban wrapped head in fear. The students all laughed as the man stood and straightened his robes in a poor attempt to regain some dignity before he continued his lecture.

The class seemed to drag on as the professor explained the potential dangers of creatures like Vampires and Werewolves, his stutter only getting worse as he did. Eventually the class ended, and the students all hurried from the room, eager to escape the now headache inducing stink that hung heavily across the class. Harry was eager to leave as well, though as he left, he felt the faintest bloom of darkness begin to swell at the edge of his awareness. As soon as the door to the room closed, and he was able to breathe slightly fresher air, the sense of darkness vanished. Harry thought about it before realising it was possible that what Professor Flitwick said was right, perhaps his way of pushing his magic was causing problems.

On the walk to the Great Hall for lunch, the group was joined by Penny’s familiar magic as she congratulated them on earning points in Charms. It appeared news travelled fast in Hogwarts as they were given pats on the back by several older Ravenclaw’s as well, some even congratulated Susan and Hannah on their success as well.

After lunch, the four friends took their time on the way to History of Magic, Jeremy had warned the group to use the lesson time to read their textbooks but didn’t explain any further. They were among the first to the classroom and took seats near the back before more students trickled in. One of them Harry recognised as Neville who made his way to the group.

“Hi Harry, I just wanted to say thank you again for helping me find Trevor on the train.” The boy said shyly before he turned away, Harry remembered his time in primary school and stopped the nervous boy with a hand.

“Why don’t you sit with us Neville?” Susan offered kindly and Hannah introduced Neville to Terry as the boy sat next to them.

“Nice to meet you Neville, I’m Terry.” Harry smiled as Terry greeted Neville in his usual friendly manner, Terry seemed like a good person, always happy to meet new people.

The lesson began rather abruptly as the ghostly form of Professor Binns floated through the wall at the front of the class and immediately launched into a speech on the Goblin Rebellion of 1882, his voice was monotonous and almost instantly Harry understood why Jeremy had recommended they read their textbooks.

As Binns began to describe how an ancestor of his had led a charge against the goblin rebels, Harry opened his History book and whispered to Neville to do the same. Soon all five of the friends were reading quietly as they did their best to ignore Binns’ lengthy lecture.

Interestingly, the history book they were assigned spent very little time describing the goblin wars and instead began with an introduction to early Britainic magic, the druids, and their practices, as well as how the introduction of Roman magic had spread across Europe and changed how magic was used forever after.

They spent the full lesson reading and by the end of the class, the five were eager to discuss it as they made their way out of the room.

“No, I don’t know any of it myself, but the Longbottom family is originally from Norway, we were Vikings apparently and I know there are a few tomes of the older magics in the family library.” Neville explained to the group after Hannah insisted he demonstrate some of the older magics described in the book. “And besides, I don’t think it’s like normal spells, it was used with animals and nature.”

“It seems interesting, but the Roman style seems more reliable, Transfiguration is incredible!” Terry added as they descended the stairs.

“Yes I must admit, Charms are fun and all, but Transfiguration is definitely better, being able to turn something into something else sounds amazing.” Susan agreed with Terry, Harry was dubious, after everything he had seen Flitwick do, he couldn’t imagine Transfiguration being better.

“But surely, they are at least equal? Charms is used in so much; enchanting and wards, how can Transfiguration be ‘better’ if they are used so much?” Harry asked, surprisingly it was Hannah that piped in at this.

“Transfiguration is seen as more powerful because of Professor Dumbledore I think, and others like him. The Headmaster is the most powerful wizard in Europe and he is a master of Transfiguration, and all the best duellers use Transfiguration according to my dad.” Hannah explained, Susan and Neville nodded as she did so. “And You-Know-Who could never beat Dumbledore in a duel, even with all his dark magic.”

“But surely, he doesn’t just use Transfiguration?” Harry wondered aloud as they reached the main staircase.

“I’m not sure, but the library might have something about it. Maybe about Charms versus Transfiguration in duels?” Susan offered.

“An excellent plan, we need to do Professor Flitwick’s assignment anyway so we could do that at the same time.” Terry suggested as the group followed his lead down the corridor Jeremy had described earlier.

They soon reached the Library doors and Harry was momentarily stunned at the sheer mass of colour that covered the doors surface. Layers and layers of magic lay heavily across the doors and Harry was eager to see what the doors protected. He was not disappointed as the doors opened to reveal the interior. It was massive. Bookcases stretched up thirty feet high, each shelf filled with books about magic. The bookcases were arranged in even lines to begin with, but Harry could sense at the edge of his awareness the bookcases began to twist, forming the beginnings of a maze-like structure as you journeyed deeper into the Library.

There were tables dotted throughout the front of the enormous room and it didn’t take long for them to find an empty one. They all took out their quills and parchment and began to write the assignment for Professor Flitwick. Harry was surprised at how many ways he could think of using the wand-lighting charm, though only a few actually applied to him such as blinding an attacker or signalling someone, it was still an interesting exercise to imagine scenarios. By the time he had dictated how it felt to cast, doing his best to whisper so that only the enchanted quill could hear him, he was well over four inches of parchment, but decided that too much was better than too little.

When he finished, he waited for a few minutes before his curiosity won out, standing as quietly as he could, he made his way to the central circular desk where Madam Pince the librarian was stood.

“Excuse me Miss, could you help me with finding records of duels using Transfiguration against Charms?” Harry asked, doing his best to whisper the question.

The librarian turned to him and opened her mouth before she paused, it took Harry a moment to realise she had seen his glasses and as she peered over the desk and caught sight of his cane, she seemed to relax slightly. “Ah, Mr Potter, yes Professor Flitwick informed me of your impairment, follow me I will show you how to navigate the stacks.”

Harry was a little surprised at her kind tone but smiled and followed as she slowly led him to one of the bookshelves a little deeper into the Library. She quietly told him to feel along the base of each shelf they passed and when he did, he was pleased to find that there were braille markers on each shelf, some were just a single word like ‘Potions’ but others were more descriptive such as the one the tall witch stopped at which read ‘Historical Articles 1900 - Present’.

“This is where the Historical articles are kept, if you want more recent histories then check the next shelf down. Now the Grindelwald duels are mostly recorded around the 1940’s, and the one you want is here.” She handed him a heavy book and then continued. “Generally, the older the book, the deeper into the stacks it will be, I should warn you; there are records of students becoming lost in the deeper sections. When so much knowledge and magic is amassed in one location it can have strange effects. You are allowed to read any book in the open stacks, but the Restricted Section is off limits. It is warded and locked so do not attempt to enter it, it is grounds for immediate expulsion if you are caught there.”

With that she led him back out of the bookshelves and he re-joined his friends at their table. He found them all finished with their assignment’s as well and placed the heavy book down in the middle of the table as they all turned to him.

“Madam Pince gave me this one, said it’s got historical records of the most famous duels and mages of the past century, she recommended we check the Grindelwald duels.” Harry explained as Terry opened the book and flipped through a few pages before he began to read one fully.

“I remember Gran talking about Grindelwald, she said he was terrible, he nearly broke the Statute a couple of times and he had almost all of Europe under his control at one point.” Neville said as Susan nodded.

“Yeah, I have a few cousins from France, and they still believe he was the worst Dark Wizard in centuries, but I don’t know how they can say he was worse than You-Know-Who, everyone says he was unstoppable…well before that Halloween anyway.” Susan said as she patted Harry’s arm.

“Well, they said the same thing about Grindelwald as well, according to this the International Confederation of Wizards-?” Terry trailed off at that as he looked up at them before Hannah explained.

“The ICW are like a higher government, almost every country is a part of it, and they make rules everyone has to follow. Some of the Ministry don’t like them because if a country is endangering the Statute or there are too many deaths from something like a disease or rebellion, then the ICW can step in. Every country has a representative, but they also take on any wizards or witches who are more powerful or talented, like Dumbledore. My great-great-grandad was a member.” Hannah added proudly.

“Right well the ICW sent five of their top Warlocks to take Grindelwald into custody in 1938 after he escaped from the States, only two survived but even they were injured horribly apparently.” Terry pointed to a page in the book as he read aloud.

“Wow … the ICW Warlocks couldn’t stop him? Bagnold tried to get the ICW to send Warlocks to help against the Death Eaters, but they were all away at the time, a group of dark wizards were trying to take over south Africa.” Susan said quietly before Terry continued.

“Yeah, see here it says Grindelwald wasn’t defeated in a duel until 1945, until then he was undefeated. Though he did famously retreat from Henry Potter in Calais in 1940, Henry lost his right arm in the fight but was awarded the ‘médaille du templier’ which is France’s highest medal for valour in battle.” They all turned to Harry then.

“Henry Potter? Are we related?” Harry asked, leaning forward and once more frustrated at his sight’s limitations as he could not read the text on the page.

“It doesn’t say, sorry mate, but I’m sure we could look that up. It goes on to describe Grindelwald’s duel against Professor Dumbledore, it says that only parts of the duel are recorded because people kept having to retreat from the fight. It does say that Grindelwald used charms and combined with his knowledge of dark magic, the area the two duelled in couldn’t be repaired as its still soaked in dark magic.” Terry gasped. “Wow, it says the duel lasted three hours!” They all sat back at that.

“I guess that explains why Gran always said he was terrible, You-Know-Who never managed to fight the Headmaster for that long…” Neville whispered, perhaps it was intended just for himself, but they all heard the words and for a few of the group it seemed to shake them deeply.

That evening Harry sat on his bed, his wand in his hand as he took deep calming breaths. He had been trying to push his magic in two different directions, but he was struggling, every time he made progress in one direction, he would lose it in the other.

Professor Flitwick’s words rang in his mind as he sat there, but how could he control his magic without controlling it? He had always had to push for his sight. Although that wasn’t strictly true, the first time he hadn’t consciously done anything, he had felt his magic in his chest and then it had just happened. So maybe that was what he needed to focus on.

He did his best to relax, taking long slow breaths and just watched his magic as it moved around him. The soothing shades of green that suffused his body, darker at his chest it was more of a bottle green around his heart and head, growing steadily paler and softer as it reached his hands until faint wisps of mint green light drifted from his fingertips. Where the green met his wand, the colour didn’t slow or change, it merged with the golden red of the wand along his arm without issue.

As he watched his magic, observing the patterns it seemed to form, swirling eddies and currents that sat beneath his skin, he felt something. He could feel the flow of colour. It was more than just seeing it, he knew absolutely in that moment exactly what the circulating colour would do, he knew that even if his sight were to fail, he could still feel how his magic would move. As he inhaled, it swelled and deepened at his chest and as he exhaled the colour diffused slightly, spreading throughout his body, and causing the thick branches of green down his arms and legs to pulse and thicken. He was captivated by the movements, he looked at the palm of his free hand, watching as new wisps of pale green drifted from his hand, curling around his fingers before they dissipated in the air.

Inhale.

Exhale. New wisps.

Inhale.

Exhale. New wisps.

And on every exhale the wisps grew thicker, more defined. Before they had barely been visible, but now thick green mist swelled in his palm and settled there, little tendrils winding around his fingers. He could feel it flowing there, a thin vein of warmth connecting his chest to his palm, pulsing with every breath. This was progress. He could channel magic and use his Fulgomancy at the same time. It would take time, but he would practice and soon he wouldn’t need to sit calmly for an hour to do this. He pictured himself stood before a crowd like Professor Flitwick, waving his wand and conjuring great beasts of light in the air. He couldn’t wait to learn that spell. The magic in his palm flickered for a moment, twisting and collecting into a vague shape before it collapsed, and the green cloud drifted apart.

Still needed practice, he thought, but that was definitely progress.

Harry fell asleep, tired but hopeful and dreamt of the great magic he would one day perform.

[End of Chapter 5]

A/N Hi everyone, apologies for the delay in releasing this one, I ended up rewriting a big chunk of it because I really wasn’t happy with the ending, hopefully you all like it!

I am absolutely floored by the support for this story, 136 followers is madness!

Once again thank you to everyone who has read the story so far and please continue to review or PM me if you have questions, I love hearing if you like the story and I also appreciate the constructive criticism I’ve received so far. I have tried to take all of it into account when writing the next few chapters.

Please share/follow/favourite the story if you like it, it helps a lot to show that people are enjoying what I’m writing!

Also, I’ve had a few people ask about Quirrell/Voldemort and Harry in this, as with everything else in this story, the way Voldemort interacts with Harry will be different because of the protection Lily and James used and how it protected/affected Harry. I won’t go into further detail because it would spoil some elements of the story.

Thank you for reading and I hope you like the story so far!

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Transfiguration was an interesting class. Professor McGonagall had begun the class with a warning, foolishness would not be tolerated; Transfiguration was a dangerous discipline and had to be treated with respect. A miscast spell could cause the structural integrity of an object to fail, or worse explode, let alone if casting on animals or people.

Then the Professor had cast a spell and transformed her desk into a tiger that roared hungrily, a deep rumbling sound that reverberated in Harry’s chest, before it reverted into her desk once again. The magic she had cast had been complex, Harry had been able to see the threads of her magic that had wrapped around the desk, sinking into the wood as the change took place, the same threads of crimson magic were twined throughout the tigers shape as it roared, before they withdrew and dwindled as the shape returned to that of a desk.

It was interesting, the tiger had the shape of a tiger, but the colour was still mostly the same as it had been, the dull brown of the desk but twisted and held into the new shape by red lines of magic.

Professor McGonagall had explained the basic rules of any Transfiguration, which seemed similar to the fundamentals for most wand magic in Harry’s opinion.

“In order to transfigure correctly, you must remember to visualise the change, Will the change to happen, and always remember to account for the differences between the items.” Professor McGonagall nodded to a girl sat at the front of the class with her hand raised.

“But, Professor, what differences? And how do we Will the change to happen?” The girl asked nervously, sinking deeper into her seat with every word.

“Ah, well the differences are easier to explain, does the object you are transfiguring look like what you are trying to make? The same colour? Same weight? Size? Material? All of these factors must be accounted for when transfiguring, eventually it will become second nature for you to take these factors into account, but for now you must think carefully about them as you cast.” Seeing the girl nod, the Transfiguration Mistress continued. “As for how to Will the change to happen, that is more difficult to explain. Each person experiences this differently, you must want the change to happen, you must want it and believe it so fiercely that your magic will follow your desire, your belief.” The Professor must have seen some confusion in their faces because she tried to explain further. “I know that the desk is not a tiger, but when I cast the spell you saw before, I believe with every fibre of my being that it is, in fact, a tiger and not a wooden desk, I know without a shadow of a doubt that it will become a tiger when I cast the spell because it already is a tiger. It is a tenuous mental balance you must achieve, and not every wizard or witch is able to Will the same way.”

“For some it is simpler, they are able to focus their Will without needing the help of the belief, and for others an entirely different method is needed. Your first year of transfiguration is as much about finding this method that works for you as it is learning the basic forms.” Professor McGonagall gestured with her wand and a box opened on her desk, a stream of small objects floating from the box to lay in front of each student.

Harry had to brush his fingertip across the thin object to realise it was a matchstick as the Professor wrote something on the board before she turned back to the class.

“Now, for the remainder of the class we will be practicing the match into needle transfiguration. The incantation is ‘Mutatio Acus’, remember to visualise clearly the change you want to make. Raise your hands if you have questions.” There was a flurry of motion as all around Harry, students began poking their matchsticks and calling out the incantation.

Harry sat quietly as he tried to reach the state he had been in last night, able to feel his magic, but was distracted when Terry suddenly cheered. He had been able to make his matchstick form a shiny point and was showing Susan and Hannah as well. Harry patted him on the arm and congratulated him before he settled back and resumed his long slow breathing.

It took almost ten minutes for him to get close, feeling his magic pulse with every breath, he was interrupted only once by Susan who asked if he was okay, but he was able to placate her quickly and lost little progress.

He sank deeper into his breathing, feeling his magic and letting it move naturally until he was happy he had reached close to the same state of control he had found the night before. He felt the magic that ran down his arm to his wand pulse heavily as he raised his wand. Doing his best to imagine the matchstick transforming into a pointed needle while not losing the precarious balance he had reached with his magic. He imagined the threads of emerald magic entwining around the match, sinking into it and changing its shape. It was a struggle for him to hold the different images and ideas in his head and he worried he would let one slip if he waited any longer, so with a final deep breath he whispered the incantation as he twisted his wand in his best approximation of the movement McGonagall had described.

“Mutatio Acus” He felt the magic rush from his chest down his arm and out through the wand, leaving a trail of tingling warmth behind it. The magic split into strands of green, each one latching onto the surface of the pale wood and wrapping around it, burrowing beneath its surface as its shape began to warp and shift.

It was a little disconcerting to see the shape of the match change, even as its colour remained relatively unchanged, but the spell seemed to work. Harry picked up his creation and examined it with his fingers, it was a touch crooked, and the metal twisted slightly, likely due to his visualisation as that was how he had pictured the change taking place, but it was definitely recognisable as a needle.

“Hey, we got it at the same time! Good job Harry” Terry clapped him on the back as he examined the needle Harry had made. “The colour is a little… well it looks good mate.” Harry noticed Professor McGonagall approach, attracted by Terry’s voice and was nervous as she wordlessly held out a hand for the needles.

She turned them over in her palm, poking them with her wand before she handed them back. “Well done Mr Boot, an excellent example, ten points to Ravenclaw for the first success.” Terry thanked her as she turned to face Harry. “Mr Potter, this is an excellent attempt, but Transfiguration requires strong visualisation as well as being able to relate those visuals to the physical world, you may find that getting details such as colour and exact shape are more difficult for you. However, with time and practice you should be able to reach an adequate level. Five points to Ravenclaw for an excellent first attempt.”

Harry sat holding the needle until the end of the class, thinking over what the Professor had told him. He was disappointed, he had not considered how his vision, or lack thereof, would have affected his magic. It didn’t seem to matter with Charms, if anything it helped, but Transfiguration relied heavily on visualisation, and he would always struggle with visualising details the same way as others. The colours he saw did not always match up with what everyone else saw, he knew this, to him most stones were a shade of grey, brick or marble it didn’t matter. Metals were a different grey, they had a shine to them and a few had red tones mixed in, but even then it was hard for him to differentiate them. And it was definitely difficult for him to picture a silver needle, he had wondered why Terry had mentioned the colour, but now he realised that it must have looked different to the normal colour of a metal needle.

Neville tried to cheer Harry up as they packed their things up, pointing out that he had only been able to make the matchstick look a little shiny by the end of the class. Harry forced what he hoped was a comforting smile onto his face as they made their way down to the Great Hall and Neville seemed relieved and began to pepper the group with questions on the Herbology lesson they were due after lunch.

The greenhouses were located on the outside of the castle, there were four which ran down the length of the castle walls. Big glass things, they were each filled with plants, some that seemed benign and even friendly, like the Puffapods which flowered sweet smelling petals when bumped or jostled in any way, but others were more dangerous, like the Venomous Tentacula whose long dark tendrils had tried to snatch at several of the students as they were shown around the greenhouse. Its dark green colour was speckled with crimson and looked bloodthirsty even in Harry’s limited sight.

Their first lesson was spent answering questions and learning the rules of the greenhouses, Neville was in his element and earned thirty house points alone, his knowledge of plants and their uses seemed endless, and Harry was impressed at the normally timid boy’s confidence around the plants, even the Tentacula which Neville had calmly slapped away when it tried to ensnare him.

By the end of the class, Neville was beaming as they packed away their notes and made their ways back to the castle. As they made their way back, Neville’s smile only faded when they had reached the Great Hall, his shoulders slumping slightly as he made to leave the group to join his table. Harry had seen that Neville struggled with the louder Gryffindors boisterous natures and grabbed his arm.

“Neville, do you think you could eat with me and Terry today? I don’t remember the maturing cycle of the Flitterbloom’s Professor Sprout showed us today and I could do with a little refresher?” Harry asked as he gently guided Neville across to the Ravenclaw table.

“Oh well yes of course Harry, so the Flitterbloom can mature quickly, its tendrils are actually often confused with Tentacula, I think it’s a defence mechanism really…” Neville continued, sitting next to Harry and opposite Terry at the table.

Harry felt Susan squeeze his arm as she made her way to the Hufflepuff table with Hannah and smiled as he listened to Neville wax poetic about the germinating methods the Flitterbloom used.

Soon dinner was over, and the friends made their way to their own common rooms, Terry settled down to read more of his Transfiguration textbook as Harry sat in one of the comfy chairs and read his Charms book, already eager to try out some of the spells it contained.

That evening, Harry sat on his bed with the drapes closed and once again tried to relax into his breathing. He found his magic more quickly this time, and once again he practiced drawing on the magic as he breathed. Only this time, he held his wand as he drew the magic to his hand. He watched as the green pulsed down his arm and pooled in his hand, his wand was barely visible, it was suffused with emerald light.
He didn’t try casting a spell, he didn’t say any words, he just let his magic flow. In. Out. He found it easier than the night before, Professor Flitwick was right; he didn’t need to force his magic, it flowed naturally when he let it. His hand shone in his sight, a beacon of viridian, faint wisps of lighter mint green floating from it and disappearing into the aether.

After a few minutes he grew tired and he let the magic fade, the emerald light drifting apart until only a few dim motes remained hovering above his hand. His wand still glowed a little, the golden-red rod was surrounded by a warm green that slowly swirled around it and as he watched, the colour didn’t fade, the green continued to surround the wand and sink into the wood. Too tired to think more on it, he put the now warm wand away and fell back onto his pillows.

He couldn’t wait to show Professor Flitwick the progress he had made tomorrow, though he was still a little disappointed at his performance in Transfiguration. The thought that his wonderful sight meant that his transfigurations may never be correct was difficult for him to grasp. He fell asleep with his mind filled with dreams of wondrous charms and misshapen transfigurations, wood creaking and metal shearing as they bent into unnatural shapes while all around lights exploded, and in the centre of it all, a cloaked figure waving his wand and weaving impossible magic.

Their second Charms lesson was on the Sparks charm, after they handed in their short essays the Professor demonstrated the charm and went over the wand movement and incantation. When Flitwick demonstrated the charm, he conjured dozens of sparks of light that burst from his wand tip and hovered in the air before they slowly faded from sight, the motes falling and disappearing before they reached the floor.

This time they were allowed to practice at the same time, a successful casting would be obvious and there was little danger from the charm, the sparks were heatless and couldn’t ignite anything according to the Professor. As the room filled with shouts and muttered incantations, Harry settled into his now instinctive breathing, deep and slow, in and out. In only a few minutes he had reached the state of control he had been practicing, feeling his magic ebb and flow with each breath as green pulsed through his body.

He lifted his wand and let his magic fill his hand, and when he was ready, he whispered the incantation and let the magic flow from him.

“Parlux”

Green sparks erupted into life. Shining above his head and though his vision wavered and wobbled, darkness claiming the edges of his normally very stable awareness, he could still see. He tilted his head back, his face split by a wide smile as he reached a hand up to brush against one of the floating motes of light.

“Good work Mr Potter!” Professor Flitwick clapped once and then leaned in conspiratorially to whisper. “I take it you have been able to overcome your earlier problem then, Harry?”

“Yes, thank you Professor, it’s getting easier with practice.” Flitwick nodded and smiled as he patted Harry on the arm.

“Not at all Harry, not at all. If you keep practicing it will aid you tremendously in all of the practical magics you will be learning, especially for the more complex spells in your later years.” The professor stood and said a little louder for the class. “Ten points for Ravenclaw, well done Mr Potter.”

Neville whispered a “well done” to him as he concentrated on his own attempt, his eyes scrunched, and his fist clenched in focus. Now that Harry was able to observe him attempting to cast a spell, he noticed there was something strange about the colour of Neville’s wand. There was a deep black crack, a rift that spanned the length of the wand that only allowed a little of Neville’s warm brown magic to pass, most of it being swallowed by the jagged shadow. Even as he watched, more of Neville’s magic disappeared into the dark, it was unnerving, everything else Harry had ever seen had a colour, only the edge of his awareness was bounded by dark emptiness, and the crack reminded him of that emptiness.
Harry resolved to ask Neville about it after the class, he didn’t want to bring it up in class, the quiet boy was nervous enough without an audience.

Harry sat back and began to cast the charm again, this time picturing a shape for the sparks to form, just a circle at first before he moved onto more complicated ones with each success. The warmth that throbbed down his arm with each casting was comforting, though with each spark he created his awareness narrowed and shrank, darkness claiming more of his surroundings. He stopped when his sight could reach no further than the end of the row of desks, his love of magic couldn’t win against his fear of the darkness after that and he instead sat quietly, doing his best to breathe slowly as his awareness began to creep outwards again. By the end of the lesson his sight could once again encompass the entirety of the classroom and the darkness beyond was far enough that he could ignore it and the cold dread it unearthed in him.

They had a study period after lunch and then Astronomy that night which Harry was not looking forward to, his sight was incredible and let him see things few others could, but he couldn’t see the sun or the moon and stars, so Astronomy would be a difficult class for him. He spent most of the study period with Terry and the girls in the Library, Neville had gone to the greenhouses to ask Professor Sprout about a plant in his own greenhouse that the others had never heard of.

Terry and Harry spent some time reading up on the Transfiguration they’d be doing on Thursday before they made their way to the common rooms, the older years had all recommended they try to sleep a little before Astronomy that night and the group had decided to listen to their advice.

That night they made their way up the long winding staircase to the Astronomy Tower and Harry was reminded of the boat ride when the rest of the group gasped and whispered, he overheard one of the louder girls as she gushed about the enchanted tower and how you could see the stars and planets through the giant lens in the roof.

Harry was taken aside by Professor Sinistra, a pleasant witch who sadly informed him that, as yet there was not an alternative method for him to observe the celestial bodies and their movements, he could do little but share notes with another student to complete the work. Terry was quick to offer his notes to Harry which he gratefully accepted, but the faint hope he had carried that there would be some magical method for him to see the stars was dashed.

He didn’t know why it affected him so much, he had long ago accepted that he would never see such things, but perhaps finding out about magic had rekindled the hope for a short while. He knew not, but that night as the other first years collapsed, exhausted into their beds, Harry curled up and wept silently at the deep pain in his chest.

The next morning they had a study period, though Penny informed them that it was expected that they would likely sleep for a part of it to make up for the late night before. Harry spent the morning sat in one of the comfy chairs in the common room in front of the fire, he was reading the Advanced Charm Casting book that Filius had bought him, it was very interesting. It detailed a few techniques for more controlled casting, as well as several spells that seemed quite simple like the Bluebell and Coldfire charms; the Bluebell charm could warm you safely, its flames unable to burn living things while the Coldfire’s icy flames sucked in heat, it could be used to cool or freeze rooms, objects or even living things. There was a warning under the Coldfire charm to never cast on a person as it could cause terrible frostbite. The book even had a chapter on how charms could be used for unconventional results, what mattered the most was your imagination and will.

Though it was tempting, Harry resisted the urge to try casting one of the spells he read about, instead he packed his bag and stood in time to join a still yawning Terry to head down to the Great Hall for breakfast. They met Neville on the way, and he sat with them again, and soon they were joined by Hannah and Susan, the small group chatting amicably as they ate.

After their break was Defence with the stuttering Professor Quirrell again, and again the room was filled with a soft haze and the pungent odour of garlic that thankfully seemed limited to the room itself and not the corridor outside. This time Professor Quirrell was going over the different types of magic used to defend oneself.

“Def-defence against t-the dark arts i-is a subject t-that d-d-draws on Tr-trans-transfiguration an-and Ch-charms, as w-well a-as yo-your own kn-knowledge.” Harry tapped his quill to copy down what was said for notes and did his best to ignore the growing headache he was already feeling, the thick haze from the burning incense in the corners and the stench that filled the room made it hard to breathe and he had to take slow breaths to remain calm.

Harry soon realised that it was easier for him to read along on his page instead of trying to listen to the Professor, his stuttering could be confusing, and the braille was simpler to follow.

“When faced with an attacker, your knowledge of the opponent should be considered before you respond. For instance, if you were travelling through mountains and attacked by a large humanoid, you could reasonably assume it was a Mountain Troll or perhaps a Giant, and with this knowledge, you could respond appropriately.

When under attack, the Ministry recommends that a witch or wizard flee and alert the appropriate authorities, however in cases where this is not possible, you must know how to defend yourselves. Against most species of Troll, fire and bright lights are an effective deterrent, the beast’s skin can resist most magic, but their blood is highly flammable, so they have an instinctive fear of it. However, the same tactics would not work against Giants as they do not have the same fear or weakness to flame, and so a different method would be needed. Without the appropriate knowledge to draw from, your defence will be lacking, you may use magic that would not hinder your attacker at all and could even help them.

Now if you open your books, chapter three details the different breeds of Trolls, their habitats, and distinguishing features. Start reading now, the next chapter details Giants, I will require a short essay no more than 6 inches on the similarities and differences between the two and how to identify them.”

Harry managed to finish the chapter on Trolls and had started the chapter on Giants when they were let out, almost as soon as he stepped into the corridor his headache had begun to recede and soon the throbbing was gone entirely. He listened with half an ear as Hannah and Terry discussed the upcoming Transfiguration lesson at lunch, helping himself to a sandwich as he did.

“Are you okay Harry? You look awfully pale?” Susan asked as she pushed another sandwich onto his plate which he gratefully picked up.

“Yeah, its just the fumes in Quirrell’s classroom, I got a headache last lesson as well.” Harry shrugged as he started on the new sandwich.

“Professor Quirrell, Harry.” Susan corrected him before she huffed slightly. “Alright, but if you’re still this pale after Transfiguration I’m taking you to the Hospital Wing.”

Harry nodded absently as he grabbed an apple for later, tucking it into his pocket as he stood in time for Neville to join them. They made their way to Transfiguration slowly; they were still a few minutes early, but the door was unlocked when they reached it, so they made their way inside to sit.

The room was empty except for a cat sat silently atop front desk, though when Harry focussed on it, he was confused, it had the shape of a cat, but the magic was almost identical to Professor McGonagall’s crimson red, even the way it moved through the cat’s form was the same. His confusion lifted when the cat leapt from the desk and in mid-air, its shape changed, lengthening, and contorting until Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the room. It was an impressive piece of magic, and one Harry quickly realised must be incredibly difficult, to change the shape of a creature so completely.

The others all gasped and Neville fell from his chair in surprise, Professor McGonagall eyed the five of them before she turned to the blackboard and began writing something on it, presumably for the lesson ahead. Harry did his best to help Neville back into his seat as the room began to fill with the rest of the first years and Professor McGonagall thankfully waited until the class was full before she began to speak.

They were given a brief refresher of the basic laws for Transfiguration before she moved onto the next spell they would be learning. Once again, they were all given matchsticks, but this time they were to transfigure the matches into thread.

“And remember, you must account for the differences, thread is not rigid, it flows, now begin.” Professor McGonagall made her way around the desks as the class all made their first attempts.

This time, it was a Gryffindor girl who was the first to make any change to her match, it became thinner and slightly floppy, and McGonagall awarded her two points for the partial success. Terry also managed a similar attempt, but it was Susan who succeeded in completely transfiguring the wooden stick into a length of thread, she was awarded five points for being the first and Harry clapped with Hannah and Neville when she managed it.

Harry was perhaps a little lacklustre in his attempts, he could reach the odd state of calm control within a few minutes now, but he couldn’t help recalling the Professor’s words from the last lesson; if he was never going to be able to succeed in Transfiguration, why should he bother focussing on it?

He did in the end, manage to transfigure the match into a length of thread, though again he was told that the colour was wrong and his brief flicker of pride at the success was snuffed. He did notice Neville again struggling with the spell, his magic barely trickling through his wand, and resolved to speak with Professor Flitwick about the strange absence within the wand, he didn’t want to reveal his sight to anyone else yet, though he didn’t think his friends would share his secret.

As Professor McGonagall let the class go, with an assignment to practice the two transfigurations they had learnt so far, Harry turned to his friends as they debated going to the library to begin the assignment for Defence.

“I need to see Professor Flitwick about something, but I will meet you in the library if that’s where you will be?” He asked.

“At least until dinner I should think, do you want a hand getting to the Charms room?” Terry offered as the others voiced their agreement.

“No, I should be fine, thanks. I’ll see you there in a bit.” Harry waved goodbye as he turned in the direction of the staircase they had been shown on their first day.

He made his way up the, thankfully unmoving, staircase and then along the corridor to the Charms classroom, stopping outside the door as he heard noise from within. After a few minutes the door opened and a crowd of older students surged out, Harry stepped back hurriedly but the majority of the crowd parted around him, though one older boy with grey-green magic attempted to kick the cane from his hand as he passed. Harry had grown used to attempts like this from Dudley and Vernon over the years and was wise to it, he switched hands on the cane casually and tilted it just far enough that the boy’s leg hit only air. The older boy was quickly carried away by the crowd behind him thankfully and Harry was left alone in the corridor.

He knocked on the door to the classroom and was quickly invited in.

“Come in, come in. Ah, Harry, what can I do for you?” The Professor seemed pleased to see him and gestured for him to take a seat as he perched on a desk himself. As Harry sat, he realised that Flitwick was one of very few people who knew that he could perceive and respond to such gestures and chuckled to himself.

“Thank you, Professor, I’m sorry I know you must be busy, but I don’t know who else to go to.”

“Not at all Harry, any distraction from marking essays is welcome.” The man laughed to himself, “Now, what seems to be the problem?”

“Well, sir, it’s Neville, or his wand at least.” Harry explained the strange dark crack that he had seen in Neville’s wand, how his magic couldn’t flow through it properly. Flitwick remained silent until he finished describing the way the darkness seemed to actually take in some of Neville’s magic.

“Hmm, I can’t imagine Garrick would ever sell a damaged wand, I will speak with Minerva and contact Garrick about this, perhaps young Mr Longbottom damaged his wand after he bought it.”

“Thank you, Professor, I didn’t know what else to do and Neville has been struggling so much with his spells and I don’t think it’s his fault really.”

“No, you have done the right thing Harry, I will speak with Professor McGonagall today, in fact she should have finished with her class by now, one moment Harry.” Flitwick jumped down from the desk and made his way over to his own larger desk, scribbling a quick note onto a piece of parchment. He tapped the note with his wand, and it lifted into the air, folding as it did so until with a few flaps, a paper bird winged its way across the room and seemed to pass through the door as if it were a cloud, disappearing from sight.

“Right, Minerva will contact Augusta Longbottom to inform her of the problem, and I will pay a visit to Garrick this evening on my way to Castamir’s.”

“Thank you, Professor, oh would you thank Castamir for my quill? It works great!”

“Ah yes, he mentioned that, he will be glad you like it I am sure. I am afraid I have a rather busy evening ahead of me Harry, so I must be off, but well done on coming to me with this.” Flitwick paused before he added. “Five points to Ravenclaw seems appropriate, for helping another student, hm?” Harry smiled as he stood from his seat, feeling better already about his decision to speak with the Professor.

“Thank you, Professor, and thank you for helping Neville.”

“It is my duty as an educator to help all of my students, Harry. But you are very welcome.” Flitwick ushered Harry from the room and tapped the doorknob with his wand, a web of blue igniting briefly across the doors surface as he did so. As Harry turned, he noticed a speck of red light approaching the two, the light grew until he could see that the paper bird had returned, now with a red light shining through the blue that coated it. It landed in Flitwick’s hand, and he opened it and scanned the contents with a glance before nodding and tucking the bird into his pocket. “Professor McGonagall is writing to Mr Longbottom’s grandmother now; I will inform Garrick tonight and we should get to the bottom of the problem soon.”

“That’s great, thanks again Professor.”

“Not at all, Harry, though a bit of advice? You have Potions tomorrow, yes?” Harry nodded, confused, “Then I would recommend you revise the textbook tonight, just the first few chapters. Professor Snape often quizzes students in their first lessons.”

“Ahh, okay Professor, we will, I think the Gryffindor’s have him tomorrow afternoon so I will let Neville know as well.”

“Good man, have a good evening, Harry.” With that, the short wizard waved and turned, making his way in the direction of the Great Hall.

Harry turned and made his own way in the direction of the library. He found his friends gathered around a table behind a tall dusty bookcase, a brush of Harry’s hand across the braille marker informed him the books were filled with mating rituals of Flobberworms, he didn’t know what a Flobberworm was, but it still caused a shiver to run through him.

Neville was the first to spot him, or perhaps hear him as the distinct ‘tap-tap’ of his cane on the stone approached and he pulled out a chair for him. Neville was reading a book quietly and Hannah was working on an assignment of some kind, but Susan and Terry seemed to be arguing on what they should be studying now that they had finished their Defence assignment. Terry was advocating for Transfiguration, which had quickly become his favourite subject, and Susan was insisting that they read up on Potions, she had heard from a prefect that Professor Snape could be very strict and often tested the first years.

Harry briefly considered weighing in, but decided caution was the better part of valour in this instance and instead opened his Potions book and began to read quietly while they continued their hushed argument.
Soon the hushed argument developed into a louder argument with Hannah now weighing in as she had finished her assignment as well. The noise had apparently drawn the guardian of the library as Harry noticed Madam Pince’s dark orange magic approaching a few aisles away. He raised a finger to his lips and shushed the three arguing friends and was pleasantly surprised when they all immediately fell silent. Just in time for Madam Pince to round the end of the aisle where she paused and seemed to eye the group for a few uncomfortable moments before she continued past, prowling deeper into the stacks. The group all let out a collective breath of relief as she left.

“Blimey Harry, thanks mate, that could’ve been bad. Apparently, she has a deal with Filch, anyone caught breaking the rules here gets the worst detentions!” Terry whispered in thanks.

“Yes, thank you Harry.” Susan seemed to look at him closely before she blurted out, “Aha! Look Terry, Harry is reading his Potions book already, Cedric said we should really read up on it before the lesson tomorrow, and then tomorrow we can work on Transfiguration together.”

Hannah threw her support behind Susan wordlessly, pulling out her Potions book and beginning to read it. Terry sighed and capitulated reluctantly, agreeing that if so many had recommended it then perhaps it was a good idea.

They spent the time before dinner reading up on the Potions book, even quizzing each other on the contents of the first five chapters. Neville proved to be very good at remembering the ingredients and what they did, but they all did fairly well by the end and departed for the Great Hall and dinner feeling confident about their lesson tomorrow.

That evening Terry and Harry tested each other before bed on Potions and Transfiguration, Terry insisted on including the latter, and soon fell asleep, their heads swimming with strange ingredients, ointments and potions.

Diagon Alley

As night fell across London, the moon hidden behind dark clouds in the sky, a short figure appeared with a nearly silent crack at the top of Diagon Alley and made their way down towards the oldest shop on the street. Filius Flitwick stopped outside Ollivanders and rapped his knuckles on the door twice, the door swinging open with a creak after his second knock.

The Master of Charms entered and did not have to wait long before Garrick Ollivander made his way from the back of the store, a leather apron across his chest and his large silver eyes glinting in the dim candlelight.

“Filius, my friend, to what do I owe the pleasure?” The wandmaker asked.

“Good evening, Garrick, I am afraid I am here on business. I came to ask about young Mr Longbottom’s wand, I have been given reason to believe it could be damaged. I don’t believe you would ever sell a damaged wand, but-” The aged wandmaker held up a hand.

“I am afraid I won’t be of much help to you there Filius, I did not sell Mr Longbottom a wand, I had thought perhaps Augusta decided to make use of one of the Nordic craftsmen for the young heir, I know Harfang used one in his youth.” Flitwick nodded at this, it was uncommon but not unheard of for British families to venture to other lands for their wands, though normally it was due to family tradition.

“Ah perhaps that is it then, well I will pass that onto Minerva, maybe she will be able to convince Augusta to bring the boy here one evening.” Garrick frowned at this.

“I should hope so, a damaged wand is a dangerous thing, some have been known to react rather violently.”

“Well, thank you for your help old friend, I am heading to Castamir’s after this for a spot of dinner, I am sure he would be delighted to see you if you can drag yourself from your workshop for the night?” Filius offered.

Ollivander seemed to think for a moment before he nodded and took off his apron, hanging it from a small hook on the wall. The two friends made their way out of the shop and after Garrick tapped the door with his wand, it swung closed behind them with a heavy reverberating thud that seemed wrong coming from such a flimsy looking wooden door.

“Did I mention, Castamir picked up an old stave from Egypt at an auction last week? Gringotts believed it was at least a thousand years old, they almost lost a curse breaker getting to it…” The two wizards made their way down the alley and up a side street, disappearing from view as the elderly wandmaker exclaimed his interest.

They did not see the hooded figure appear from the shadows and approach the Wand shop, nor did they see him wave his wand in a twisting spiral before a single mote of crimson light drifted across the street to brush against the door to the building, like a snowflake carried on the wind. The mote had barely touched the door when it was violently dispelled, bursting into sparks and flying apart with a BANG. With a scowl and a curse, the hooded figure turned and made their way down to the entrance to Knockturn Alley, the dim lamps along the street illuminating a flash of purple beneath the hood of the cloak as they hurried away.

[End of Chapter 6]

A/N Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay on this chapter, work was crazy and unfortunately has to be prioritised over this.

WOW a hundred favourites is amazing and I am very grateful to everyone who has favourited, followed, and reviewed, it means a lot that so many people are enjoying this.

There will be one more chapter before Halloween and the events that will unfold then, and I won’t be doing lesson by lesson descriptions after the next chapter, but it seemed necessary to build the foundation and show how the lessons would progress.

I will be trying to stick to a chapter a week, but I have no set days, I will just be releasing them when they are ready and I am happy with them.

Thank you again to everyone reading and enjoying the story, please let me know if you like what you read, and if not then please feel free to send constructive criticism!

Thanks,

Daedalus!

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Despite the warnings from the older students and even Professor Flitwick that morning in the common room, Harry and Terry were very nearly late for Potions Friday morning. The dungeons of Hogwarts were a labyrinth and only after asking the Bloody Baron for assistance at another dead end, did the two reach the first-year classroom. Luckily the class of Ravenclaw’s and Hufflepuff’s were still waiting outside and, after a brief scolding from Susan for nearly being late, the door opened seemingly of its own accord and the group nervously shuffled inside.

It was a dark room, even to Harry’s sight, though the jars of ingredients that covered one wall did have unique colours and patterns that drew his attention for a moment. There were rows of workstations with a gap down the middle, Terry took one station for himself in the middle of the room and Harry sat next to him, setting up his enchanted quill and parchment on the desk as he settled in.

There was a bang from the front of the classroom as a dark figure strode forward from a door beside the blackboard, dark grey magic lay unnaturally still beneath his robes and as he stopped at the front of the class, Harry was impressed at the level of control the wizard seemed to have over his own magic. He gently prodded his quill with his wand just in time for it to catch the beginning of the Professor’s speech.

“You are here to learn the subtly science and exact art of potion brewing.” He began. He spoke in little more than a whisper; his voice was a little rough, but the class hung on every word. Professor Snape apparently had the gift, like McGonagall, of keeping a class silent without effort. “As there is very little wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will truly understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through mortal veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren’t as big a group of fools as I usually have to teach.” The classroom was near silent, only the faint crackle of flame from a cauldron in the back corner breaking the atmosphere.

“Let’s see if any of you have bothered to open the textbooks this year, Potter,” Harry startled slightly and straightened in his seat at his name. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Snape asked.

“Draught of Living Death, sir.” Harry replied.

The first chapter of the Potions textbook described this particular combination, the fumes from the potion could cause drowsiness and fainting if the brewer wasn’t careful and he had quizzed Terry on it the night before.

The rather dour Potions Professor was silent for a moment before he asked again. “And where would I find a bezoar?”

Again, Harry was grateful for reading the Potions book last night, this was described in the first chapter as well for neutralising toxic potions and poisons.

“The stomach of a goat, sir.” He replied confidently, pleased that his revision was already paying off.

“And if I were to ask you the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?”

At this, Harry had to thank Neville, he had been waxing poetic all the different uses of this plant after Herbology that week.

“They are the same plant, also known as Aconite, sir.” The Potions Master stared at him and Harry thought he could see some of the man’s grey magic shifting through the air between them before the Professor turned sharply to face the board.

“Correct on all counts, and no more than I expect from any student in my class. Now, today you will be brewing a Boil-Cure potion. It is relatively simple, and the recipe can be found on page seventeen of your books. You have until the end of the period to hand in a vial.” With that Snape waved his wand at the board and something rippled across it, likely writing as Harry couldn’t understand it.

All around Harry, students began to scrabble and frantically search their kits for ingredients. He took his time reading the recipe first and then pulling out what he would need; a stirring rod, a medium knife, and a pestle & mortar along with the ingredients listed.

He took a few moments to get used to the feel of the tools and the jars the ingredients were in, each jar had a braille label describing the contents before he began the recipe.

He crushed an ounce of snake fangs in the mortar and pestle and stirred the brittle green-ivory powder into the cauldron that was a third filled with clear water. Then he sliced two pungous onions as finely as he could before he gently placed them in the cauldron and tapped the small metal rim beneath the cauldron which immediately ignited, heating the cauldron from below. Then he added dried nettles and a dash of Flobberworm mucus which was a particularly disgusting shade of lime, then he stirred vigorously, doing his best to avoid the fumes that were already rising from the cauldron.

A silver spoonful of pickled Shrake spines next, the strange sea-green spines seemed to dissolve in the cauldron quickly, changing its colour to a dark mottled green, like moss on a tree. Then a glug of stewed horned slugs, he wasn’t entirely sure how much a ‘glug’ was, but settled on just letting three of the thick slugs fall from the jar and into the mixture. Then he stirred and turned off the heat with another tap of his wand. The recipe said to wait for the contents to turn a dark brown and stop bubbling completely before adding porcupine quills, Harry’s potion didn’t look brown to him but a quick check in Terry’s direction settled his fears, the other boy’s potion looked a dark brown-green in Harry’s sight as well. So, he waited for the mixture to stop bubbling and then dropped in five porcupine quills, stirring counter-clockwise three times as he did so.

And then he was done. He wasn’t the first to finish, but he wasn’t the last either and he was fairly pleased with the outcome. His potion sat calmly in the cauldron and when he spooned some into a crystal vial, he caught a flash of sharpness from the liquid, it wasn’t a colour or even a pattern like he was used to, but the impression was there. He gripped the vial in his hand as he made his way to the front of the room, his cane tapping on the flagstones until they met the slightly less solid wood of the desk the Professor stood behind.

The tall wizard was silent as he carefully deposited his vial in the rack alongside the others and then made his way back to his desk. He cleared away the ingredients and then washed out his cauldron at a large sluice in the back of the room, the frigid water that burst from the heavy tap on the wall was powerful enough that with only a little scrubbing he had a clean cauldron again. He did the same with his knife and mortar and pestle before he re-joined Terry at the high desk in time for Professor Snape to address the class.

“For next week, six inches on the ingredients of this potion, what they do and why. Dismissed.” The room emptied in a hurry, students scrambling for the door, Harry held back as he knew that he would likely end up on the floor if he dared the crowd, instead he and Terry took their time getting up and slinging their bags over their shoulders. By the time Harry was ready, his trusty cane in hand, the room was empty but for the two Ravenclaws and Professor Snape who was silently watching them.

They had only just left the room when the door slammed violently shut behind them, the BANG echoing down the corridor as they stood stunned.

“Lunch?” Terry asked as they turned in what Harry hoped was the right direction and began to walk.

“I don’t know how hungry I am after smelling Flobberworm mucus and stewed slugs to be honest Terry.” Harry grimaced, the thought of ingesting the ingredients he had been using really did make him a little queasy when he considered it.

“You’ll change your tune when we reach the Hall and you smell the food, they might even have treacle tart mate!” Terry laughed as he led the way and by the time they had reached the ground floor, Harry had to admit, the smell of food from the Hall had banished the queasiness almost completely.

History of Magic was spent reading from the textbook as again, Professor Binns droned on about a goblin rebellion back in 1689. Harry and Terry spent the period making notes on the settling of the Romans and the way their teachings changed magical Britain. By the end of the lesson, they had a full page of notes on the settling and how the different clans in Britain had come together to form a Wizards Council, a precursor to the Wizengamot. It was interesting stuff and Harry was eager to learn more about the history of the world he was a part of.

At dinner, Neville had seemingly regressed to his original nervous state, and it took much coaxing from Harry and Susan to get the shy boy to reveal what had happened. Neville had made a mistake in his Potions class, causing the brew to boil over and nearly spill onto his classmates. Professor Snape had dismissed the class early to give him time to clean up and taken five points from Gryffindor for Neville’s mistake. After that, though the other first years were quick to console him, he had lost any confidence he had gained in the past week.

This was only worsened when Professor McGonagall strode down from the Head table and handed him a note, telling him he was excused from Flying lessons tomorrow and would be meeting McGonagall in her office at ten sharp.

It was only after dinner had finished and the group left for the library that Neville could be convinced that if Gregory Goyle hadn’t been expelled for his terrible efforts in Transfiguration and Charms, then Neville surely wouldn’t be for a simple Potions mistake. Even then, Neville spent the evening studying his Potions book religiously, he dreaded making another mistake in Snape’s class.

Harry spent the evening working on the Potions assignment, and then moved onto practicing some of the basic charms in the textbook, nothing loud or bright in case Madam Pince caught wind, but just a few little things like the colour-changing charm which he found rather enjoyable to use once he had mastered it. He changed Terry’s robes a dark orange and only after he and Neville had finished laughing, did he look up the countercharm to reverse the effects, much to Terry’s dismay it took another ten minutes for Harry to manage it and several students passing by laughed at his strange attire.

That night, Terry and Harry once again tested each other on Charms and Transfiguration before bed, though this time Oliver Rivers asked if he could join in and soon the three were happily quizzing each other on questions from all the subjects they could think of.

By the time Harry had washed and was in bed, he had little energy left but, not wanting to disappoint Professor Flitwick’s confidence in him, he stayed up long enough to practice his, by now second nature, breathing exercises. Despite his tiredness, or perhaps because of it, he found it easier than ever to draw on his magic, filling his cupped hand with the emerald energy until it overflowed, the magic dissipating into strands and motes of light as it spilled from his fingers. He fell asleep at some point with a fistful of magic and was asleep when the magic finally drifted back into his skin, re-joining with the river of it that flowed through his body.

Saturday morning the first years were all in a hurry and, after a rushed breakfast, they all gathered out on the Quidditch pitch to find two rows of brooms laid out and Madam Hooch, a stern woman with amber yellow magic, waiting for them. The morning mist had mostly burned off by then, but there was still a slight chill to the September air.

They all stood next to a broom, though Harry had to drag Terry from one of the brooms; its magic was very erratic looking, strands of magic along its length were twisting and snapping angrily around it and Harry doubted it would work well for anyone who tried it, let alone a beginner like them.

“Right, everyone hold out your dominant hand and say ‘up’.” Madam Hooch demonstrated and the broom beside her, which seemed to Harry’s sight to be far newer and cleaner than the others, jumped into the air and smacked firmly into her open hand. Strands of the brooms magic wrapped around her arm and body, gently hanging around her as she stood in front of them all.

Harry held out his hand and called out “Up!” and was only a little surprised when the broom shot up into his hand, its magic eagerly wrapping around his arm and body. He looked around to see that he was one of only three to have their broom in hand. The Malfoy boy was another, he was holding the angry looking broom, and another Slytherin girl also had her broom in hand.

In short order, everyone had a broom in their hand and Madam Hooch did her best to show how a rider should hold and sit on a broom. Harry took guilty pleasure in Malfoy’s embarrassment when she told him he had been riding a broom wrong his whole life.

Soon everyone was stood straddling a broom to Madam Hooch’s satisfaction and it was time to take off.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, I want you all to give a firm kick off the ground and hover, and when I blow the whistle again, I want you all to land as gently as you can.” The group mumbled in the affirmative and a sharp whistle sounded from the instructor.

It was unnerving, even though Harry could see the magic that infused the broom he was on, he still half expected to be left standing on the ground holding a broom like a fool. But with a gentle kick, he found himself hovering a few feet above the ground, the broom beneath him wasn’t the most stable of surfaces as it dipped and wobbled as his weight shifted, however he had years of practice balancing without seeing the ground, compared to that balancing on a broom was easy.
He almost missed the second whistle to land as he tested leaning forward and back, feeling the broom move gently with his body, but he did land with the others and after a few more practices with this, they were allowed to take off within the pitch, but no higher than bottom of the stands. Harry rose until the ground was at the very limits of his awareness and flew slowly around the pitch, he thought he should be nervous but the feel of the wind rushing past him and the freedom he felt, they were exhilarating. He was careful not to go any higher, he still needed the surety that the ground was there, the thought of flying through the air with only sky all around him was at once both terrifying and awesome, but the fear won out and he dropped back to a steady twenty feet above the ground.

He was turning to head back in the direction of Madam Hooch when a broom and rider entered his awareness above and behind him, heading almost straight at him, he recognised the magic of the rider and the angry broom immediately and began to dip, trying to avoid the two. Malfoy sped up and followed his movement, if he didn’t move they would collide so Harry dipped again and leaned forward, urging his broom on towards the distant Madam Hooch in the centre of the pitch. Malfoy had gained distance on him by then and was only a few broom lengths behind and above him. One broom length. Half a broom length. At the last moment, Harry dipped and pulled to the right, hoping to avoid a collision but as he did, he saw the angry looking magic on the broom Malfoy was riding lash out and it shifted jerkily closer to him. The front of Malfoy’s broom clipped Harry’s tail twigs and knocked them both into a spiral. Harry pulled hard to the left to try and control the spin, he had never spun so fast before and though the feeling was unpleasant, it wasn’t as bad as apparating had been and he was able to slow the spin and land unsteadily, heaving breaths as he did.

Malfoy had not been so lucky. The front of his broom had spun out and he had been flung from the broom fifteen feet in the air, his broom spinning and colliding with a splintering crack against the stands as he landed with a heavy thud and a gasping wheeze.

A sharp whistle cut across the pitch as Madam Hooch landed next to Harry and picked something up from the grass next to him. She let out a soft intake of breath as she stepped closer and held out her hand to him.

“Are you alright Mr Potter?” She asked as she pulled him upright, she had an object in her hand that it took a moment for him to recognise. His glasses, they must have come loose when he had been sent into a spin. He nodded, thanking the witch as he quickly put the glasses on, the familiar feeling was comforting on his face.

“Thank you, Madam Hooch, I’m okay, is Malfoy?” He leaned on his broom slightly, wishing he had his cane with him, he had grown used to its warm weight in his hand and the broom was a poor substitute for it.

Madam Hooch nodded and then looked in Malfoy’s direction, the other boy had slowly gotten to his feet, though he was holding his back and panting loudly. “Well, Mr Malfoy, I daresay you have come out of that encounter luckier than you had any right to be. I have rarely seen such foolish and dangerous flying, I’ll be taking you and Mr Potter to the Hospital Wing and then you can find me for detention tonight. Maybe polishing all of the brooms in the school will teach you to respect the equipment, and your father will be receiving a bill for the broom you broke!” At every word the Flying instructor’s voice grew louder and angrier and Harry was impressed when Malfoy replied instead of cowing immediately.

“But it wasn’t me! Potter did something to my broom, a blind boy shouldn’t be on a broom anyway! Wait till my father hears you’ve got me doing servant’s work!” The angry retort might have been more impressive if it hadn’t been wheezily whispered followed by a pained groan from the angry boy. The other boy kept up the argument as they made their way off the pitch and up to the castle, interrupted every few moments by another pained groan. The class was dismissed as Madam Hooch led the two boys up to the Castle.

Harry was grateful when Terry caught up to the trio and handed Harry his cane, he had stumbled twice on the uneven ground already, his balance a little wobbly still from the eventful ending to the broom ride. With his cane in hand, Harry felt better already and by the time the small group made it to the Hospital Wing doors he had been debating asking if he could go to the Library instead.

His decision was made for him when the doors opened and a short witch made her way over to them, immediately guiding the two boys onto beds in the large room. The Hospital Wing was large, filled with beds and shelves interspersed through the room that held potions and bandages and some metal implements that looked more like torture devices than medical to Harry.

“What happened to them then, Rolanda?” The shorter witch asked as she waved her wand in a complicated pattern over Harry first and then the groaning Malfoy, runes and lines of magic appearing over the both of them that Harry couldn’t decipher.

“Mr Malfoy decided to attempt to ram Mr Potter, however Mr Potter managed to land safely after coming out of a dangerous spin. Mr Malfoy crashed his broom,” Here the Flying instructor had to take a deep breath and Harry absently noticed her fists had clenched at the description of the broom. “And landed on his back, I believe he is only winded but wanted to check with you first, Madam Pomfrey.” The short witch, Madam Pomfrey, nodded as she continued to cast spells across the two of them, examining the results and humming before she handed Malfoy a small potion bottle from a pocket on her apron.

“Drink this Mr Malfoy, you’re only winded, a little bruising but it should fade by tomorrow. I take it you have already assigned punishment for his foolhardy behaviour?” At Hooch’s nod the Matron continued. “Then you are free to go Mr Malfoy, I have a few questions for Mr Potter, unless you need him, Madam Hooch?”

“No no, he is all yours Matron. Come along Mr Malfoy, I think a word with your Head of House is needed.” Hooch led a scowling and muttering Malfoy from the Hospital Wing and only once the doors had closed with a heavy thud, did the Matron turn to Harry again.

“Well, I must say Mr Potter, I expected you in here sooner, though perhaps not because of a flying incident.” At Harry’s confused expression the witch sighed and sat down on a stool next to his bed. “Mr Potter, I am sure you have a question you would like to ask me?”

Harry was confused and wondered if perhaps this was a test, what would he need to ask a Nurse?

“No Madam Pomfrey, I don’t think so, I feel fine, can I leave now?” He asked tentatively, half lifting himself from the bed as he did. The Matron seemed surprised but nodded and stood up.

“Very well, you seem fine, and Filius let us know about your magical expression being normal for you, I have some ideas on it, but I won’t pry. But Mr Potter, my door is always open if you have any questions for me.” The Matron handed him his cane and he left the Hospital Wing, though his steps were a little slower than normal as he made his way to the end of the corridor and wondered where he should go now.

His rumbling stomach answered that question, and he found the Hall filled with students, though a hush fell over them as he first rounded the doors and made his way to the Ravenclaw table. The tap tap of his cane echoes through the Hall and only when he sat next to Terry at the table did conversation resume around him.

“Are you alright mate?” Terry asked as Harry made himself a sandwich from what he thought was ham and cheese.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just got a bit dizzy from the spinning.” Harry took a bite from the sandwich as he felt the Susan and Hannah approach from the Hufflepuff table.

“Oh are you okay Harry? We all saw when Malfoy tried to crash into you, it was terrible!” Susan gripped his arm tightly as she asked him and though he nodded that he was fine, she didn’t let go until Neville joined them. He was smiling widely and was quick to explain the reason for his absence that morning.

“Apparently one of the teachers noticed something with my old wand and spoke to my Gran about it, so she took me to Ollivanders this morning and he said that it was damaged by… well it was damaged, so I got a new wand. Look.” Neville waved his new wand excitedly and Harry was pleased to note that the silver of the wand merged happily with Neville’s own magic. He was less pleased when Neville’s excited waving let out a stream of sparks that ignited the remains of his sandwich. Though it did give him an excuse to try out a new charm he had been reading about.

While Susan and Hannah waved at the fire and scolded Neville, Terry laughed as Harry drew his wand and with a whispered “Gelidum Pruina”, frost spread across his plate, snuffing out the flames. It was the first time he had tried casting the spell and he was pleased with the result, the frost melted quickly in the warm Hall, though the puddle it left on his plate was a little annoying, he was still hungry.

“A most impressive demonstration of the Frost charm, Mr Potter.” Harry started as he noticed Professor Sprout had walked over to see the cause of the commotion, just in time to see him extinguish Neville’s accidental flames. “And Mr Longbottom, please contain your excitement, for the sake of Mr Potter’s lunch if nothing else.” Harry couldn’t help but laugh at this as Neville nodded and put his wand away.

Professor Sprout waved her wand, and a tendril of her brown magic evaporated the small puddle on Harry’s plate before she walked back up the Head table. Neville took the opportunity to show the group that he had decided to follow Harry’s example and wore a shoulder holster for his wand as well.

“When I mentioned to my Gran that Harry had a shoulder holster, she said it was smart and that my dad had used one as well, so she bought one from Ollivanders as well!” Neville explained as they made their way out of the Hall and up towards the Charms corridor, Terry had heard there were empty classrooms there that Professor Flitwick didn’t mind students using for practicing spells and Neville was eager to try out his new wand properly.

The room they settled on was towards the far end of the Charms corridor, it was a little dusty and had chairs and desks stacked along the walls but the large open space in the centre of the room was ideal for practicing spells, which Neville immediately began to do.

The new wand definitely improved his performance, and though it still took him a few attempts, with Susan and Harry’s help Neville managed to master the spells they had learnt that week in only a few hours. Once Neville was caught up, Harry took a seat to the side as Terry and Susan practiced their Transfigurations. Harry was content to watch his friends and absently fell into his breathing exercises, he smiled as he watched Terry and Susan compete to see who could make the longest thread from a single match, their magics moved differently. Terry’s magic seemed to layer the outside of the match and force the wood to change, moulding it to his will. While Susan’s was gentler, her yellow magic seeped into the wood of the match and changed it from within, her Transfiguration took a little longer, but she did end up with a longer thread in the end, much to Terry’s annoyance.

Harry didn’t even notice that he was gathering magic into his hand until he felt his cane warm, he had been twisting it in his grip as he was wont to do, and only now did he notice that his magic had been gathering in his hand and, with no other route available, it had been passing into his cane. The top third of the cane was now gently glowing in his sight, a soft green slowly spreading down the length of it. He watched as his magic suffused the length of the cane, sinking into it, it looked similar to Susan’s Transfiguration, though his magic didn’t leave him in strands but a steady river that flowed from his hand down the length of wood. He had no interest in changing his cane, in fact the very thought of it changing or breaking was repugnant to him. He stopped the flow of his magic into the wood, switching hands to grip his cane with his left and shaking his right one as wisps of mint drifted from it.

He was shaken from his observations when Terry asked what Harry wanted to practice, and after having seen some older Gryffindors, twins he thought they might have been, throwing awful smelling pellets at each other on the way to the pitch that morning, Harry had the perfect spell. It was listed in Advanced Charm Casting and was a little more difficult than the other charms he had tried so far, but with help from Terry and Neville in the form of balled up scraps of parchment, Harry soon had it mastered.

“Waddiwasi!” Harry cried as another ball of parchment was thrown at him, before it stopped in mid-air, strands of green latching onto it before it rocketed backwards, smacking into Neville’s forehead and crumpling painlessly, though his impression of a dying soldier was impressive as he collapsed crying out to the applause and laughter of the others.

The five friends were soon alerted to the time by Neville’s stomach gurgling loudly, much to his embarrassment, though he wasn’t alone in his hunger and the group made their way down to dinner.

That evening Harry and Terry were performing their now nightly ritual of testing each other on Transfiguration and Charms when Oliver Rivers asked if he could join them. He was quiet but friendly and soon the three were asking as complicated a question as they could think of to trip the others up. Michael and Anthony scoffed at their antics, but the three boys went to sleep that night with broad smiles on their faces.

Harry was particularly pleased, though Flying could have gone better, his first week of learning magic had gone very well so far and his early concerns over casting magic and losing his sight seemed to be needless. Harry fell asleep watching wisps of green light drift from his fingertips, vague shapes and swirls floating above him as his sight dimmed and he surrendered into Morpheus’ embrace.

A/N Hey everyone, thank you to all of you who have supported the story so far, we have now covered most of the character intros and the world building.

Time will begin to move more quickly now, next chapter will cover up until Halloween night, and then after that will be Halloween through to the Winter Holidays. I anticipate that there will only be another three chapters for the First Year with one to cover the summer before Second Year.

So again, ripples are being caused by Harry’s abilities and again, the differences between this and Canon will only increase as time goes on so be warned.

Please let me know if you like the chapter, and if you don’t then let me know why so I can try and work on it.

I have had questions on Harry’s vision/eyes and why an alternative like Alastor Moody’s eye hasn’t been offered to him, so I will say here – In this story Moody’s eye in particular is a very rare piece of magic, and although an eye could likely be regrown or fixed, Harry’s eyes were damaged by a combination of VERY powerful magic and dark magic. As Dumbledore likes to say “all magic leaves traces”.

Thank you for your continued support!

Daedalus

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Time seemed to pass quickly after that first week, it seemed even a magical school was still school. Soon the novelty of the subject matter wore thin for the majority of the first years, several bemoaning the increasingly long essays they had to write on the origins, development, uses and alternatives to various spells. This group did not include Harry though, instead he and his friends would immediately venture to the library after receiving an assignment and, sometimes with help from one of the others to read aloud sections from a book with no braille alternative, the group would complete the work before quickly heading to their room.

The slightly dusty old classroom had become Harry’s favourite place in the Castle, in the weeks since they had first found the room Harry had spent at least an hour there every day, almost always joined by at least one of his friends, and in that time they had cleared a space in the centre of the room for spell practice while around the edge of the room chairs piled with cushions and desks with spare parchment and inkwells awaited those that wanted to take notes on one subject or another.

All in all, Harry’s first two months had gone well, Charms continued to be his favourite subject, even with his struggles with Transfiguration he still enjoyed it, and the other lessons had their own merits. He had requested a note from Professor Flitwick to avoid having to attend any more Flying lessons, though he had enjoyed the beginning of his first, the encounter with Malfoy had soured the memory. Professor Flitwick had required him to attend another two lessons before Madam Hooch had declared him safe on a broom, after which he was granted leave to skip the remaining lessons.

Harry made it all the way up to the last weekend of October before he realised what was coming up, so enthralled with the magical Castle and learning as much as he could from it. Only on Monday morning, when the Great Hall was filled with floating pumpkins and Professor Dumbledore announced that the Halloween Feast that would be taking place that evening, did the realisation hit. A storm of guilt and grief overtaking him for a moment as he sat silently amidst the excited clamouring of his fellow students. He had almost forgotten the day his parents had died.

It was an unusually glum Harry that made his way to Charms that morning, his mind awash with thoughts of his parents and that night 10 years ago. He found his seat and nodded along as Hannah and Terry excitedly discussed the feast tonight, his attention was only brought back to the present when the short figure of Professor Flitwick made his way to his lectern and cleared his throat for the class.

“Now, I am sure you are all excited about the feast tonight, but for now I am afraid I will need you to bring about your focus to the lesson at hand. Today, we will be performing the Levitation Charm. We have already gone over the importance of correct wand movement and incantation, so please repeat after me – Wingardium Leviosa!” The class recited along with the Charms Master and there were shrieks of fear and laughter as the benches they were seated on rose a foot into the air before lowering back down a moment later.

Soon they were each given a feather and told to practice the spell and Harry was able to forget the date and its meaning as he focussed his attention entirely on the feather on his desk before him. In his sight it looked so fragile, a faint white and green shaft with skeletal barbs sprouting from it, and even smaller barbs sprouting from those barbs. Feathers often reminded him of leaves in Winter when the flesh of the leaf had fallen away, leaving just the remnants of its frame behind.

He brought his wand up, a clear image of the feather rising into the air, supported by his own green magic, and with a swish and flick and a whispered “Wingardium Leviosa!” he watched as his magic crept from his wand and wrapped around the feather, spreading around it like a cocoon before it lifted into the air and hovered a few feet above him, perfectly still.

“Marvellous, five points to Ravenclaw Mr Potter.” He heard from the front of the room as he slowly let the feather drift back down to the tabletop.

“Well done mate!” Terry cheered next to him, a quick glance told Harry that his friend was likely only a few attempts behind him, his own blue magic stretching searching tendrils out to the feather. He was proven correct when a minute later Terry let out a cheer himself and Harry clapped for his friend, proud of his success. By the end of the lesson most everyone had succeeded at casting the spell, though there was an argument between two Gryffindor’s that led to a young girl running off.

Defence Against the Dark Arts undertook a change of pace that day, instead of lecturing on dangerous creatures that they might encounter, Professor Quirrell instead began the new topic of defending against a dark wizard.

“So, w-who kn-knows wha-what they sh-should do if th-they enco-encounter a dark wi-wizard?” He began, and though several students around shuffled, none raised a hand until Susan, sat next to Harry did.

“Well, we should defend ourselves, shouldn’t we?” She asked when he nodded to her.

“Re-really? You be-believe y-you could d-d-defend yours-self fro-from a dark wizard?” The professor paused before he drew his wand and Harry was shocked when his dull yellow magic swelled before it erupted into a gout of dark red that scorched the ceiling, the smell of sulfur filled the room as students shrieked and ducked beneath their desks. An oppressive heat filled the room for a moment before it vanished. “No, th-the correct ans-answer is to co-contact the Mi-ministry. I am surprised you didn’t know that, Miss Bones.”

Susan, who had been helping Harry to his feet from his retreat beneath the desk paused at that but before Harry could ask her about it, the professor continued.

“H-however, Miss B-bones is r-right that kn-knowing how to pro-protect yo-yourself fr-from att-attack is im-important. To-today, yo-you will be l-l-learning the m-most b-basic sh-shield charm.” At that, Harry tapped his enchanted quill, he still found it easier to read the transcription than listen to the Professor’s stutter, though he was pleased that the headache’s he had experienced in his first few weeks had slowly dwindled, it seemed Professor Flitwick’s breathing exercises helped with headache’s as well. As the Professor continued to detail the charm they would be learning, Harry did his best to tune him out and instead let his fingers drift across the page behind the quill.

This charm is a simple one and you should have no problems with it, however it is simple because it has limits and weaknesses. This spell was actually developed in Rome and was used to defend against imp’s and their magics. But it works well to defend against minor jinxes, though it will not stop any physical blows.

The incantation is ‘Tutamentum’ and the wand motion is a clockwise rotation, the circumference of the rotation will mark the size of the shield you conjure, I should warn you that the larger the shield the more focus and power will be required.

Now pair up and practice, one will shoot sparks and the other will try to “defend” against them.
As had become habit in their classes, Harry paired with Terry while Hannah and Susan stood next to each other, and Neville and Oliver stood off to one side. After a brief moment where no one spoke, none wanting to be the first to perform the charm, Terry stepped forward and shot loud bright sparks at Harry, prompting the rest of the class to begin as well.

Harry’s wand was in his hand and tracing a large circle in the air the moment he saw Terry’s magic begin to gather, his own magic already thrumming down his arm into his wand and with a quiet “Tutamentum”, a spiralling green disc appeared just in time to catch Terry’s blue sparks. The disc was a little wobbly, wavering and shivering the further out it got from the wand tip, but it had stopped Terry’s sparks which was a success in Harry’s book. Terry offered him a high five as they swapped places, by now unsurprised when Harry could get at least a partial success from the spell on his first attempt.

Harry gave Terry a few moments to prepare himself, his own breathing was deep and even, it was second nature for him to settle into the almost meditative state when using magic now and he could do so in seconds after all of his practice, his magic flowing freely, eager to act. Once Terry seemed ready, Harry flicked his wand and fired off a cluster of green sparks towards the boy. There was a flicker of blue that stopped the first of the sparks, but it quickly vanished, and the remaining sparks sputtered into nothing as they hit his chest. Harry was confident that Terry would get the spell on his next attempt and waved off the other boys attempt to swap again. He was proved correct when his next volley of sparks met a swirling blue disc and were immediately snuffed out, little ripples across the disc the only sign that they had ever existed.

“Well done Terry, that looked better than mine I think.” Harry clapped his friend on the arm, though the other boy quickly shook his head and let out a short laugh at his praise.

“Mate, that would mean a lot if you weren’t mostly blind.” Terry laughed at Harry’s expression of mock outrage. He laughed until there was a dull thwack and suddenly Terry was hopping and rubbing his shin in pain. “Oi!”

“Sorry Terry, I’m mostly blind so I didn’t see your leg.” Harry poked him in the chest with a grin. “I was aiming for your left one, hold still and let me try again.”

As the day wore on, Harry’s grief resurfaced, it was odd to feel such sadness, to miss people he didn’t remember, but he did. The evening feast was accompanied by more floating pumpkins and candles, and a plethora of foods, the sound of cheering and laughter filled the Great Hall, but Harry was oblivious to most of it, picking at his food morosely.

His thoughts were disturbed when the large doors to the Great Hall heaved open with a crash and the limping form of Professor Quirrell made his way into the Hall. The Professor’s right arm hung loose and bloody at his side and his turban was askew as he stumbled halfway up the Hall before speaking.

“T-T-Troll in the d-d-dungeons!” He shouted before he tripped and fell prone on the floor with a painful sounding crack. Panic. The cheers and laughter replaced by cries of fear and screams of terror.

Crack. A wave of violet magic erupted over the tables accompanied by the sound of thunder as the Headmaster stood with his wand raised.

“Madam Sprout please lead the Hufflepuff’s to their common room, Professor Snape do the same with the Slytherins, Prefects please lead the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors to your towers, myself and the rest of the staff will head to the dungeons to find the Troll. Move calmly and quickly.” The long-bearded headmaster led Professor McGonagall and Flitwick down to the doors, an oppressive thundercloud of violet magic rippling from him as he left the Hall.

Penelope and Jeremy were quick to stand and call out for the Ravenclaws to follow them, the Gryffindor Prefects following their lead and the Houses split at the staircase, the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors making their way up the staircases together.

Harry was following with Terry when he noticed a splash of familiar warm brown magic making its way off of the staircase and onto the second floor landing. In the split second before he would have passed the landing, Harry whispered to Terry that he was going after Neville and to tell a Prefect where they were before he stepped to his left and onto the landing. He could see Neville’s magic a ways ahead of him and around the corner and took off at a brisk pace to catch up to him. Neville turned as Harry approached, his cane once again giving him away.

“Harry! What are you doing here?” The young Gryffindor asked in surprise, though Harry thought he could hear a touch of relief in his friend’s voice as well.

“I think I should be asking you that shouldn’t I? There’s a Troll in the castle Nev, now isn’t the time to be wandering about alone.” Neville had started walking again at this point and his steps didn’t falter as he led them down another corridor, suits of armour lining the walls here.

“I had to get Hermione, she’s been in the girl’s bathroom ever since Ron was horrible to her in Charms, she wouldn’t have known about the Troll.” The Gryffindor explained as they approached the bathroom. “She’s a bit pushy, but she’s nice enough, she even helped me with my Astronomy homework a few weeks ago. And I know Malfoy’s been awful to her as well, I couldn’t leave her, she might have gotten hurt. Besides, I told Percy and he let me go, we’re two floors up from the Troll and the Professor’s will have dealt with it by the time we get Hermione surely.”

Harry was about to admit that Neville was likely correct when the floor shook as a great crash came from up ahead, quickly followed by a scream of terror. Both boys broke into a run to reach the bathroom, but as they approached, Harry could see that the thick wooden doors to the bathroom were torn from their hinges, one lay splintered on the floor and the other was being crumbled into kindling by the 15-foot-tall Troll that stood towering above the curled up form of Hermione Granger. The Troll held a large wooden club in one of its heavy hands as it growled in the young girls direction, hunched over slightly it hurled the remains of the door at the wall over the sinks causing Hermione to let out another whimper of fear.

Harry was stunned for a moment; the Troll should have been far far away from here, how had it made it up from the dungeons so quickly? His thoughts were interrupted when the Troll slammed its club into the sink next to Hermione who screamed again, pieces of porcelain and stone clattering across the floor. Heart pumping, he shook the errant thoughts from his mind and focussed on the problem at hand.

“Nev, get to Hermione and get her out of here, find a teacher!” He shouted before he waved his wand and shouted “Parlux!” a shower of green sparks shooting from his wand to circle the Troll’s head. The magic was harmless, but the noise and light did its job in distracting the Troll long enough for Neville to reach Hermione and help her stand. Though as the sparks faded and the Troll focussed on Harry, he did wonder if perhaps he could have thought up a better plan. With a deep, guttural roar of anger that Harry felt in his chest, the Troll started taking long steps towards the doorway and Harry.

Harry started backing up as he shot off another burst of sparks, aimed at the Troll’s head again, though this time the Troll ignored them with a grunt, the dull grey-green magic that moved sluggishly beneath its hide only swirling slightly at the sparks that brushed against it. As the Troll gained distance and Harry backed further into the corridor, he thought back on all of the books he had read on Trolls and other Ogroids. He pictured the assignment he had written for Quirrell as he swept his wand at one of the suits of armour behind him, a little surprised when the armour and spear were sent hurtling towards the Troll as it stepped closer. The armour clanged off of the thick hide for the most part, but through luck or skill the spear hit head on and embedded itself into the Troll’s thigh several inches deep. As the Troll fell to one knee and roared in pain, Harry remembered that Troll’s were resistant to most magic like other Ogroids, but they were susceptible to fire and extreme heat.

He threw himself backwards by instinct as the now bloody spear was sent rocketing his way by the Troll, cracking into the wall behind him as he stumbled and did his best to keep his footing. The Troll let out another roar before it broke into a great loping run towards him. Harry didn’t know any real fire spells, they were dangerous and not taught until second year for a reason, he did know a spell that might trick the Troll, for a time at least.

“Tutus Flagram” He cried as he swung his arm in a great circle around him, a ring of merry blue flames appearing behind his wand. The Troll’s reaction was almost comical and in different circumstances Harry might have laughed as the Troll stumbled and fell backwards in its haste to avoid the warm flames that now danced around him. He was safe for the moment.

The Troll grunted frustratedly as it clambered to its feet and eyed Harry warily though the circling flames. Harry was now leaning heavily on his cane, his legs trembling slightly as the adrenaline that had fuelled his actions faded, leaving his body weak behind it. Although the flames didn’t falter, the Troll seemed to sense his weakness and gain some confidence. It lashed out with its heavy club and tore through the fragile bluebell flames, the spell sputtering out. It had broken through his deception and as it stepped closer, the vicious grin on its face worried Harry almost as much as the club it raised into the air above him.

Desperate to ward off the Troll, Harry cast the sparks charm again, but instead of picturing harmless motes of light, he thought of the hot biting embers from a fire, hungry and angry. The sparks that erupted from his wand this time were not the jovial green lights that he had conjured previously, instead they were a harsh red and blazing white, a haze of heat washing out with them. The sparks landed across the Troll’s arm and chest and instead of fizzling out, an awful sound of sizzling began leaking out as the Troll let out another bellow, but this time filled with fear and pain. The deep primal fear that all predators feel when faced with mans first defence against the dark. Fire.

The Troll staggered back as the sparks latched onto its grey hide, burning into its flesh, branding a constellation across its body. The great beast fell to its knees as it swatted at the hungry flecks that crawled across its body. Harry was stunned as he watched, and felt immense relief when a familiar magic washed past him to engulf the Troll. A great web of silver and blue wrapping around the Troll, constricting tightly until it lay still on the cracked scorched stone floor.

Harry slid to the floor as he felt Professor Flitwick running down the corridor towards him, followed closely by Professor McGonagall and behind her, Neville and Hermione.

“Harry? Are you hurt Harry?” Professor Flitwick leant down next to Harry and put his hand on his shoulder as he asked him again. “Did it hurt you, Harry?”

His mouth was dry, so he shook his head as Professor McGonagall approached and inspected the bound Troll curiously.

“Good, though Poppy will likely still want to check you over anyway. Now, Mr Longbottom was rather insistent that we come to help, so I didn’t question him, but what on earth were you thinking Harry?” Flitwick asked, his tone stern but not unkind. Harry was about to reply when surprisingly Neville spoke up.

“Harry came to help me Professor, I realised Hermione was still in the girls bathroom and wouldn’t know about the troll so I told Percy and then came to find her, we thought the troll was in the dungeons so I didn’t think there would be any problems and I guess Harry noticed I was missing…” Here Neville paused and looked in Harry’s direction and fell silent for a moment until Professor Flitwick coughed and looked pointedly at him.

“Well anyway, me and Harry found Hermione in the bathroom but the doors were broken in and the Troll was in there already. Harry told me to get Hermione and find a teacher, and then he distracted it and it followed him this way, and that’s when I ran to the staircase and shouted for you Professor.” Professor Flitwick hummed and nodded as Professor McGonagall turned to face the group.

“And then Mr Potter, what happened after you distracted the Troll?” Professor McGonagall asked, her Scottish brogue coming through a little thicker than usual. It took a gentle shake from Professor Flitwick for Harry to respond, still a little dazed that he had survived the encounter.

“Sorry Professor,” He shook his head, doing his best to clear the numbing fog from his mind before he continued with his answer. “I distracted the Troll with sparks and then I remembered that most Ogroids fear fire, so I cast the bluebell charm, and it worked for a minute, but then it broke through that with its club. So, I tried the sparks charm again, but I wanted it to be hot and burn the Troll, not just be bright. I’m not sure what happened but the sparks came out different and then you and Professor Flitwick arrived and saved me.”

“And the suit of armour? The bloody spear?” The Transfiguration teacher gestured with her wand as she spoke, reassembling the slightly dented armour as she did so, complete with the spear in question.

“Ah I’m…well I’m not entirely sure what happened there Professor, I just swung my wand and the armour and spear just sort of moved, it was all so quick I don’t know what I did. I’ll pay for the damages of course.” Harry added nervously, he didn’t want to be expelled already, after learning about magic he would never be able to go back to the normal world.

There was a brief snort of laughter from the Charms Master at his remark, though Professor McGonagall kept a straight face when she assured him that he would not need to pay to repair the armour.

“You defended yourself, your friends, the Castle itself even, from a dangerous creature, no you will not have to pay for the damages. In fact, I think a few house points are in order.” Professor McGonagall turned to Neville and Hermione. “5 points from Gryffindor for foolishness, and ten points for bravery in the face of danger Mr Longbottom. Your parents would be proud.” Neville stood a little straighter at that, a proud smile on his face.

“And 20 points to you Mr Potter, for quick thinking and marvellous spell work.” Professor Flitwick patted him on the shoulder as he struggled to his feet, leaning on his cane as his legs were still quite shaky.

Professor McGonagall took Neville and Hermione up to the Gryffindor common room, while Professor Flitwick led Harry up the Ravenclaw Tower. It was only when they were approaching the bronze eagle that the Professor spoke again.

“Well done, Harry, you kept a calm head in danger, and you were able to keep your friends safe, but you endangered yourself as you did so. In the future, try to keep yourself safe as well, please? And be careful, the Castle Wards should have easily kept out a hundred Troll’s, someone must have let that one in. I will investigate, but if you see or hear anything suspicious, please let me know.” With that last warning, the Charms Master left Harry to enter the common room and explain to those waiting what had happened.

Headmasters Office

The Headmaster’s and Headmistresses of Hogwarts have always been exceptional wizards and witches in their own rights, and as such the office had collected many rare and powerful spell books, enchanted objects and rare artifacts in the millennia since the schools founding. Under its current steward, the office held many shelves filled with tomes of knowledge and strange artifacts, some small and fragile, others large and heavy such as the deep stone basin that sat in the corner of the room, there was even a tall and rather ornate bird stand next to the window. And sat behind a wide desk piled high with parchments and books, was the current Headmaster; Albus Dumbledore, Master of Transfiguration and Alchemy, defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald.

He was joined in the large office by the short figure of Filius Flitwick, the hulking mass that was Rubeus Hagrid and his deputy, Minerva McGonagall who sat calmly in a straight-backed chair. The office was silent but for the occasional spitting from the fireplace to the side of the room. The silence was broken when the fire suddenly roared with emerald flames and tall cloaked figure stepped heavily out from the angry fire. The wizard limped forward, throwing his hood back as he leant on the tall carved staff he walked with, his face was heavily scarred, a chunk missing from his nose and a deep scar running up his cheek and disappearing into his dark hair. Most noticeably, the wizard had two very different eyes, one was a dark brown that stared directly at the headmaster, but the other was made of golden metal with a blue iris, it whirred and swivelled in its socket to look at each of the others in the room before pointing at the door.

“Ah thank you for joining us Alastor, I know the hour is late, but I thought it best to inform you as a representative of the Ministry.” The Headmaster smiled at the Auror who grunted and nodded back to him, taking up a position beside the fireplace to stand, casually leaning the stave he held in front of him.

“Get on with it Albus, I’ll pass on whatever it is to Amelia, but I have a lead on Greyback’s whereabouts and I intend to have that dog by the end of the night so if you need a wand, you’ll need to find someone else.” The Auror reached into his long coat and withdrew a small silver flask, taking a swig of the liquid within before he tucked it back away.

“That is fine Alastor, we don’t need your skills tonight, simply to alert Madam Bones that there was a breach of the Castle this evening. A mountain Troll entered the Castle and somehow made its way to the second floor. It has been found and removed from the grounds; it should be back in the Highlands now.” The Auror froze at the mention of the Troll and turned his full attention back to the Headmaster.

“So, someone let it in then Albus, you have a traitor in the Castle.” The blue eye whirled to point rapidly at the others in the room before pointing back at the door. “You have any suspects?”

The aged Headmaster shook his head. “None that seem more likely than another at this point, I had perhaps thought Quirinus, but I inspected his wand and he has not cast anything that would let a Troll through the wards. I did find, upon inspecting the wards, a sadly all too familiar signature at the eastern edge of the wards.” The Professor gestured with his hand and a single silver hair hovered above the desk, shimmering in the candlelight. It was a pure silver, tainted only by a dark crimson along the last two inches of the long hair. “Someone sacrificed a unicorn at the boundary and used the resulting backlash to rend the ward, it was only temporary and by the time I found the weakness it had almost completely sealed back over.” Hagrid let out a sad sigh at the sight of the bloody hair and slumped in on himself slightly.

“We’ve seen this done before Albus; the McKinnon estate was breached using the same method.” Alastor added as he inspected the hair closely with both eyes for a moment. Minerva let out a gasp at Alastor’s observation.

“You mean to say … He is back?” She asked, her face pale at the thought. She was calmed slightly as the Headmaster shook his head slowly.

“Not in any real way, no. My last sources had found his spirit broken, wandering the Albanian forests. I do not believe he has returned to Britain, not yet at least. But he could have agents here, it requires a deep knowledge of the Dark Arts to use a sacrifice like this which narrows the list down.” The Headmaster trailed off, his eyes distant for a moment.

“Well, I know of one such individual in the school at the moment.” The Auror looked at the Headmaster as he spoke those words, a frown forming on Dumbledore’s face at the grizzled wizard’s words.

“I will not deny that Severus likely does have the required knowledge to undertake such an act, but I do not believe it was him.” Alastor snorted at that but otherwise didn’t dispute the Headmaster, the scarred Auror instead turned to the so-far silent Charms Master.

“What about you Filius? Any theories? And who found the Troll? They might have been trying to avoid suspicion by catching the thing they let in.” He asked, both eyes settling on the short teacher.

“Theories? Many, but as Albus stated, they are all half formed and each as unlikely as the next. I do think we can remove the ones who found the Troll from suspicion at least, it was a group of first years.” At Alastor’s look of disbelief, he added. “It was Mr Potter and Mr Longbottom who found the Troll, Mr Potter managed to defend himself quite admirably against the beast and Mr Longbottom helped another first year to safety.”

“Hmph, so the rumours that Potter’s blind are false then?” Filius laughed darkly at the Auror’s question.

“No, he is quite blind. But he has learnt to deal with his disadvantages, as do we all.” The Charms Master didn’t clarify the vague statement despite the Auror’s questioning stare, the wizard-catcher’s attention only shifting when the Headmaster began to speak again.

“Indeed, young Mr Potter scarred the beast for life, I doubt it will soon forget its encounter. I would be most interested to learn what spell he used to leave such a unique and distinctive pattern on the creature.” The Headmaster looked at the Transfiguration Mistress here for an explanation.

“He claims he tried to use the sparks charm but imbued it with heat.” Minerva supplied. “And after inspecting the creature, I believe the boy. It is impressive, to manipulate a spell, even one as basic as the sparks charm at such a young age. It shows an aptitude I haven’t seen in several years.”

“Yes, very impressive, give the boy a gold star, but that doesn’t help us with who let the bloody Troll in. Hagrid, you know if this thing was local? There’s a tribe of them up near Cairn Toul isn’t there?” The Auror tapped his stave against the stone floor angrily as he asked the half-giant caretaker.

“Aye, I reck’n it was a local one, it seemed to know where it were headin’ once Pr’fessor Dumbledore left it outside the ward boundary at least.” Hagrid replied. “I’m headin out tomorrow mornin’ to hunt out any others that might be nearby.”

“I’ll look into it but you should ask that lowlife Fletcher to make some enquiries Albus.” The Auror stomped over to the fireplace and threw a handful of glittering powder from his pocket into the low flames which immediately burst into lively emerald flames. “I’ll inform Amelia of this Albus, but you need to find the culprit and quickly or Fudge might get involved. Now, I’ve a mongrel to hunt.” And without another word, he stepped into the flames and vanished, leaving the room silent but for the rhythmic clicking and whirring of various silver instruments scattered around the office.

“I’ll head out at firs’ light and see what’s goin’ on in the Forest, Pr’fessor.” Hagrid nodded to the room and made his way out and down the stairs, followed closely by Professor McGonagall as she bid goodnight to the Headmaster and Filius.

Once the door had closed behind the two, the Headmaster sighed and rubbed his glasses on his cloak as he watched the Charms Master closely.

“You have a question for me, Filius?” The Headmaster asked as he perched his glasses back on his nose.

“Not a question, a theory I would like to run past you Albus.” The Charms Master hopped down from his chair and walked over to the tall window set behind the Headmaster’s desk. “Someone performed a dangerous ritual, sacrificed a unicorn to tear a hole in the wards, and let a Troll into the Castle. Then the Troll made its way up from the dungeons along, not the shortest route, but the normally emptiest path it could take to the third floor. Now why would someone do this, unless they knew what was being kept there. A Troll would be a useful tool in getting past a Cerberus.” Filius turned to face the Headmaster with a raised eyebrow.

“Ah, we are of one mind then Filius, yes I believe that the individual who let in the Troll intended to use it not as a distraction but as a tool to retrieve the Stone. This is the second reason I do not believe Quirrell to be the perpetrator, he alerted us to the beast, otherwise it could have made it significantly deeper into the Castle before alarm was raised.” The Headmaster bowed his head as he studied a letter on his desk for a moment. “The Stone will be secure from anyone attempting to retrieve it by Yule, until then I will keep a close eye on it. I doubt the perpetrator of this attempt with rush to try again, we have time to prepare.”

“And the students? Those first years could have been killed by that Troll.” Filius asked angrily.
“Peace, Filius. I will do my best to protect the students, you know this, I was only moments from the Troll’s location when Mr Potter so ably defeated the beast, I had hoped it would continue its path unmolested and I would catch the mastermind when it met them on the third floor. Mr Potter was in no real danger, nor was Miss Granger, it saw her to be approximately twelve feet to the left of her true location, a handy charm you taught me if I remember correctly.” Albus countered calmly. The Charms Master shook his head irritably as he made his way to the door.

“Just be careful Albus, your plans have failed before.” The short wizard called out as he left the room, the door closing heavily behind him. Once alone, Albus sagged slightly, his shoulders slumping and a weary sigh escaping his lips as he leant back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.

“But who else is there to do the planning if not me?” He asked tiredly to the empty office, knowing no answer would come. Only a moment later the weariness seemed to flee the Headmaster’s body as he stood and made his way to the window that the Charms Master had stood at minutes before.

“Preparations to be made, I suppose I too must go a’hunting.” He whispered to himself before with a near silent crack he disappeared.

A/N I hope you all like this chapter, please let me know if you do, and if you don’t, then tell me why! Constructive criticism is always welcome! Review, Favourite and Follow if you do like the story as those are the best way for me to tell if people are liking and reading what I’m writing.

Thanks for all the support you’ve all shown me and this story, I hope you enjoy it.

Daedalus

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

The days and weeks after Halloween passed relatively quietly, lessons continued normally, and Harry and his friends grew closer as they spent more time together. And they were joined on occasion by Hermione, though she only joined them in the library when Neville was with them, the two being somewhat outcasts in the house of lions.

Harry had shared the warning from Professor Flitwick with Terry and soon found himself with a permanent companion, always accompanied by at least one of his friends, rarely was he able to enter a room alone as his friends took their roles as bodyguards seriously. Though he had put his foot down when Terry half-jokingly followed him into the boy’s bathroom on the first floor. This meant that his solo trips to the Room that they had commandeered in the Charms corridor had come to an end, so his forays into the more advanced and interesting magic he had found in the library ended abruptly as well. He had been tempted to share the spells he had learned with his friends, but the comments and bullying Hermione had received for being a few lessons ahead had put him off. He doubted that Terry and Susan would be bothered by his advancement, he was still behind the both of them in Transfiguration, but still the fear lingered and so he instead practiced the spells that they had learned in class more.

The second Quidditch match of the year soon arrived and despite his arguments that he would be able to see very little of it, Terry and in a surprise turn Neville, wouldn’t let him stay in the castle alone, claiming that it would be all too easy for someone to attack him in the empty castle if he were there alone. Annoyingly they had a valid point and so Harry found himself sat in the stands as Slytherin and Hufflepuff played against each other.

Though Harry could extend his sight if he needed to, he still could not extend it far enough to encompass the entirety of the Quidditch pitch, the strain grew painful if he tried to push his awareness much further than a hundred or so feet in any direction. So, he settled for keeping a view of the centre of the pitch, though it was a little disorienting when players would fly into and then out of his awareness in a matter of moments. The game was enjoyable despite his limited viewpoint, and he found himself cheering alongside Terry and Neville for goals that he couldn’t see and groaning at near misses that he heard about thanks to the boisterous commentator.

It was shortly after one of these near misses that he caught sight of something on the very edge of his awareness, one of the balls had stopped in mid-air, hovering still in one place as brooms flew around it. The ball was a bludger, its enchantments easily distinguishable from the basic protection charms on the quaffle and its size meant it couldn’t be the snitch. As Harry found his attention drawn to it, he watched as the grey symbols that swam across the surface of the heavy iron ball twitched and slowed as new symbols, crimson and burning, branded across it. The ball twitched as the red magic covered its surface and then it was moving, shooting across the pitch, it collided with the tail of one of the riders and spun them violently, but continued its straight path. Harry heard Terry let out a sympathetic groan as the player crashed into the ground with a sickening thud, but most of his attention was on the bludger that was now rocketing towards the stands.

The heavy iron ball swerved upwards, soaring over the front of the stands until it was almost directly above Harry, and then it dropped. Shouts rang out around him as spectators noticed the ball’s erratic movement as it plummeted into the wooden stands. With a desperate dive, Harry managed to push himself and Terry out of the bludger’s path as it shattered the now empty wooden seats, disappearing into the hidden framework of the stands. Moments later another crash echoed from below and the bludger erupted from the floor next to where Harry and Terry lay, splinters of wood showering the two of them as a line of hot pain carved across Harry’s arm. He was distracted from the pain when the bludger stopped its vertical flight and once again began to plummet towards the stands, he scrabbled urgently for his wand and had it pointed at the bludger when he realised, he knew no spell that could stop it.

Fear filled him as he desperately ran through the list of spells he could try, the iron ball wouldn’t be stopped by the pathetic shield charm he knew and nothing else would be much use against it. The bludger was closing in when he recalled a spell he had read about in the Advanced Charms book Professor Flitwick had given him. It was vaguely described, only a few lines and an incantation, but it was all he could think of to stop the dense cannonball heading for him.

With his wand gripped tightly he pointed it and cried out “Vald Rike!” focusing on the space the seemingly unstoppable bludger was passing through mere meters above his own very fragile body. He felt his magic rush from his wand, flooding down his arm with a now familiar warmth, though he had never tried control so much at once and the comfortable warmth quickly grew, becoming a searing heat and then a volcanic burning that filled his arm and chest.

For a moment he thought it had worked, the bludger had stopped. Then he noticed the strands of blue magic wrapped around the bludger, holding it firmly in place as thinner strands of magic surrounded the bludger until it was trapped inside a tight cage of gossamer thin blue light.

“Pacem adhuc!” A pulse of soothing magic travelled along the strands and the angry red brands across the bludger cooled, no longer moving eagerly around the ball. Harry let his arm and head fall back onto the wooden planks beneath him, now that the imminent threat was handled the burning pain in his right arm and the cut on his left caught up with him and he clenched his teeth, biting back a cry of pain.

“Thanks mate, reckon I would have been brained by that thing if you hadn’t pushed us out of the way.” He heard from his left as Terry clambered to his feet, offering a hand to Harry as he stood.

“If you let me stay in the Castle next time, we can call it even.” Harry accepted the hand, leaning on his cane as he stood just in time to see Professor Flitwick making his way through the crowd from the top level of the stands.

“Mr Boot, are you injured?” The short professor asked as he kept his wand pointed at the bludger as it hovered above the broken benches.

“No sir, Harry pushed me out of the way, but I think it clipped him.” Terry answered as he pointed at Harry’s left arm.

Now that he had a moment to focus on something other than the rogue bludger, Harry briefly focused on his left arm and spotted the source of the warm blood trickling from his hand. A splinter of wood as thick as his thumb was jutting from his forearm and piercing through his shirt sleeve, even as he watched he could feel more of his blood leaking from the wound. He absently brushed his cloak away from the wound, wincing as it caught briefly on the wood. As he uncovered his injured arm, he heard a few gasps and one scream from behind him that he recognised as Susan.

“Ah Mr Potter, that is a rather nasty wound. Madam Pomphrey will need to see you for that. Mr Boot if you could escort him to the Hospital Wing?” Professor Flitwick turned to the rest of the crowd that had gathered. “The match is over, if you could all leave the stands and return to the Castle immediately.” Terry guided Harry towards the stairs and as they began to descend, he heard Professor Flitwick begin to mutter under his breath as more of his magic swelled around the bludger until the bludger shone like a small star above them, surrounded by arcane symbols and runes of blue and white.

It turned out that the splinter that had been poking from his arm had not been wood, but was in fact his own arm bone. He had been clipped by the bludger when he had pushed himself and Terry out of the way and the blow had broken his arm, but in rush he hadn’t noticed the wound. Madam Pomphrey was able to mend the bone and repair the gash, though he was forced to wear a sling for the day to avoid agitating the freshly healed bone. Shortly after he was healed, Professor Flitwick visited.

“I am glad to see you healed Harry, it was rather a shock to see you like that.” The short wizard said as he summoned stool from across the Hospital Wing, hopping onto it and leaning towards him. “And I must apologise, I warned you to be careful but once again you were very nearly gravely injured and it was not your fault.” Filius sighed deeply as he waved his wand in a loose circle around the bed Harry was sat upon, a curtain of his magic, like the one he had made in Diagon Alley, appearing around them. “Certain members of the Board of Governors and a few of the teachers would disapprove of me sharing this with you Harry, but you have a right to know. The bludger was not faulty, it was cursed. Someone cursed it during the match to attack you, the others that were injured were collateral damage.”

Harry leaned back as the new information sunk in. It wasn’t surprising, he had already suspected this, but to have it confirmed by Professor Flitwick was still a shock. As the professor continued, he twisted his wand in his hands, finding comfort in the warm wood as he brushed it with his fingertips.

“Now, unfortunately the list of potential suspects is not short. Though the Troll incident would have required a knowledge of the Dark Arts that is rare, the bludger was actually rather clumsily cursed - ”

“I thought all Quidditch equipment was enchanted to prevent interference? Terry gave me a book about Quidditch and it said the brooms and balls were all enchanted to stop cursing and jinxing after a snitch was jinxed to avoid a team’s seeker?” Harry interjected, his brow furrowing as he recalled the rather dense book that his friend had insisted he read when he discovered Harry’s ignorance of the ‘sport of kings’.

Flitwick sighed as he leaned back, wiping a hand down his face before responding.

“That is indeed usually the case, however Madam Hooch informed me after the match that the bludger in question is one of the oldest we have at the school, unfortunately after twenty odd years, the enchantments on it have started to weaken. The bludger was to be replaced in the Winter Break, the school’s budget for Quidditch equipment is managed by the Governors and they deemed the equipment as a lower priority than other repairs and maintenance this year. Had the bludger been a little newer, the enchantments lasted a little longer, then the curse would have failed. As it is I believe that someone noticed the bludger was old and in disrepair and took the opportunity to make an attempt on your life, or at least injure you.” Here Flitwick shook his head and muttered under his breath, glancing back in the direction of the tall Hospital Wing doors. “My apologies Harry, I have failed in my duty to protect you twice now. We will speak more on this later, for now I must go and speak with someone who has a little more experience with curses.” The professor hopped down from his seat and turned to leave before he paused. “I should have asked sooner, did you recognise the magic that was cast upon the bludger?”

“No, I’m sorry Professor, it was different. Angry. I haven’t seen anyone with magic like that before.” Harry resisted the urge to shudder as a shiver of fear ran up his spine at the memory of the magic that had surrounded the bludger. It hadn’t been the most elaborate or complex spell he had ever seen, but the sheer depth of the red, the cruel symbols it had formed, they were stuck in his mind. He could almost see them, lingering at the edge of his sight, waiting hungrily.

“Never mind Harry, for now just rest.” With a pat on his leg, the charms master turned and walked over to the doors, opening them just enough to slip out and letting them close behind him with a gentle thud.

As Harry lay back in the surprisingly comfortable hospital bed, he shivered again. He had almost died twice now, but this occasion had shaken him far more than the Troll. At least with the Troll, it had been explainable – Troll’s were near insatiable, their hunger driving them to attack most other creatures on sight, it was in their nature. But the bludger… someone was trying to kill him, or at the very least severely injure him, and he had no idea why.

As he thought back over the incident, one thing stuck in his mind throughout. He needed to learn a spell to protect him, and his friends, better than the one Professor Quirrell had taught them. Luckily, he knew from the contents page in the Advanced Charms book that Flitwick had given him that there were several other shield spells and protective charms he could learn and he resolved to study as many as he could once he was released from the Hospital Wing.

He would not be as useless against a threat to him and his friends again.

As Christmas approached, the school began to transform, great pine trees gathered by Hagrid were brought into the castle and one popped up in most of the classrooms (though not in the Potions labs) decorated with chains of red, green, blue and yellow paper, elaborate glass and metal ornaments that looked so delicate that no student dare touch them for fear of them breaking, and dotted across most were merrily burning candles that never seemed to dwindle. The smell of pine and woodsmoke filled the corridors and to the relief of many, managed to overpower the smell of garlic that permeated Professor Quirrell’s classroom.

The group of first years had even been pleasantly surprised by a slightly smaller, but no less welcome, tree in their room in the Charms corridor. Along with the tree, there was now a small fireplace in the back of the room that warmed the previously cold stone floors nicely, though none of the group knew how it had appeared there.

It had taken a few weeks for Harry to find a new shield charm that he could actually cast, most of the charms listed in his book were too advanced for him to manage and it would be several years before he would be able to make a decent attempt at them. But he had found one that he was able to cast with some confidence.

Arx Murum, a predecessor to the Protego charm, was used by the battle mages in the Roman Army and was designed to imitate the Testudo formation the army used. The charm allowed the caster to create a rigid shield in a dome shape around them, the spell could block most offensive spells as long as the caster could hold the spell and it also blocked physical damage unlike many shield charms. There was a downside to this though, the shield was immovable, once cast it was stationary and would need to be dropped or dispelled and it was not a one way shield like Protego, so you couldn’t cast a spell out of the shield while it was up. The shield had another major benefit, it wouldn’t shatter if it was pierced or broken by another spell, instead a hole would be left in the shield that, with enough skill and practice, the caster could fix, sealing the gap in the defences.

The description in the book sold it for Harry, each spell had a little paragraph describing the spell in use and for this one the author depicted three wizards stood side by side in front of an army, wands aloft with no fear as a cloud of arrows, ballista and stones rained down on them, held at bay by a shimmering barrier conjured by the three of them. He wanted that. That bravery, that knowledge, that power. To know that you could protect yourself and your friends.

It took him nearly two weeks after finding the spell to manage to cast it with any real reliability. At first the shield that he could create was like a soap bubble, it shimmered viridescent, but it would burst at the slightest disturbance. But with practice, what felt like endless hours spent with Terry and Neville taking turns to poke the fragile barrier and then throw scrunched up balls of parchment at it, he had managed to reach a point he was happy with. For now, anyway. His barrier could hold up to nearly anything the two other boys could throw at it, quite literally as in his excitement Neville had picked up a small chair and thrown it at Harry when they were testing it. Luckily the barrier held, sending the chair clattering loudly to the floor, leaving a gawping Terry and a stunned Harry to stare at the plump Gryffindor who was staring at his own hands in shock at his actions.

“Wow, well I think after that we’ve run out of ways to test this mate” Terry said as he clapped Neville on the back to shake him from his stupor.

“Ye-yeah, sorry about that Harry, just got a bit caught up in the moment…” Neville muttered quietly, his cheeks pink as he picked up his toad Trevor from the table beside him. The toad had gone missing earlier in the year but had reappeared before Halloween, according to Neville it was a gift from his great-uncle for getting into Hogwarts, though why he had chosen a toad neither Harry nor Terry had been able to figure out.

“It’s fine Nev, I said to try anything you could think of, I’m just glad it held this time!” Harry laughed as he tapped the glassy barrier with his wand, dispelling the shield and stepping forward before he collapsed into a nearby chair. The shield was the most difficult spell he had learned since getting to Hogwarts, and left him feeling like he had run a mile every time he cast it, but the results were worth it.

“Yeah, I’d hate to have to tell Flitwick that Nev had flattened his favourite student.” Terry laughed as Neville audibly swallowed. “Though Snape might thank you Nev, he always looks constipated whenever you answer one of his questions in Potions.” Harry tapped his cane on the ground before Neville could reply and both boys fell silent for a few moments before there was a gentle knock on the door to their practice room.

“Is it the girls?” Neville asked as Harry pointed his wand at the door, a whisper of magic darting to the brass doorknob.

“Nah, Susan and Hannah are in a house meeting.” Terry said as the heavy latch the boys had taken to locking shifted and the door swung open to reveal their charms professor in the doorway.

“Good afternoon gentlemen, might I borrow Mr Potter for a moment?” The charms master asked as he peered curiously around the room, his gaze settling on Harry who was still sat on his chair for the moment. “It should only take a moment, and I have a letter from your aunt for you as well Harry.”

With a nod Harry stood and, after grabbing his cane from its place next to his chair, made his way to the door and out into the corridor with the professor, leaving Terry and Neville to discuss what they could do to test Harry’s spell next. Worryingly, the last words he heard as the door closed behind him were “…but surely someone would notice if we took a whole tree Terry?”

“Ah to be young and eager again. I am glad that you are making the most of your free time here Harry. I must confess I caught the remnants of the spell you were practicing, some kind of protective charm. To block physical projectiles perhaps?” Professor Flitwick asked as he led Harry along the corridor to his office. For a brief moment Harry froze, memories of doing well in a test that Dudley failed, of studying to impress his uncle but ultimately falling short flit across his mind before he shook his head. Professor Flitwick was not like his uncle, he was the Head of Ravenclaw House, the home of the studious and eager to learn.

“Yes, it was in the book you gave me professor. The Testudo shield charm?” Harry dug into his bag and pulled out the book, the page with the Testudo charm marked with a scrap of folded parchment. He handed it to the friendly charms master who gestured for him to take a seat as he opened the book and with a wave of his wand, began to read the pages describing the spell. Only a few minutes later, Flitwick held his wand in front of him and called out clearly.

“Arx Murum.” Immediately royal-blue magic pulsed from the wand tip, ballooning out until a nearly solid wall of blue and silver light surrounded him, stopping just short of Harry’s seat. A moment later the light began to fade and the wall fragmented, falling to pieces and drifting out of sight, even for Harry. “Hmmm, an interesting alternative to the standard shield charm. Immovable, but that can be useful with physical projectiles. Can you cast it at will now?” At Harry’s hesitant nod, Flitwick prompted him to demonstrate.

For a moment, a spike of jealousy shot through Harry as he recalled how long it had taken him to manage even a fragile bubble with the spell when his professor had seemingly mastered it in one attempt. But then logic quashed the errant thought as he remembered that he was eleven and in his first year of learning magic, Professor Flitwick was older, more experienced and a master of charms, so of course he would have less trouble with it. Besides, he had progressed a lot farther than the flimsy attempts he had started with.

He took two slow breaths, mostly out of habit as he let his magic flow quicker through his body, the normally slow and steady pulse of green quickening as he drew his wand and with the form of the spell fixed firmly in his mind, he spoke the words.

“Arx Murum.”

Green light burst from his wand, and though it wasn’t as clear or steady as his mentor’s display, a solid and reliable dome appeared around him, faint white lines marking the hexagonal panels that made up the shield. It was, he thought to himself, his best attempt so far. There were no tremors or flaws that he could see, he almost wished Terry and Neville were here with that tree just to test it.

Although that thought fled his mind when a burst of red collided with the barrier to his left, a resounding chime ringing out through the office as Harry spun to face Professor Flitwick who had his wand pointed at the shield. He felt the strain on his mind as the shield flickered for a moment, before he brought his focus back to the spell and the barrier settled again.

“Oh, very good, Harry! I dare say even a Troll would have difficulty breaching that barrier.” Flitwick clapped with a wide grin on his face as Harry let the spell go, leaning heavily on his cane as he did so. The drain of casting that spell had hit him harder the first few times, he nearly blacked out the second time he had tried to cast it, it was getting easier, but it was still a demanding spell. It had been a shock for him, to learn that some spells took a toll on the body and mind, he hadn’t grown tired from casting magic before. The spells they learnt in their first year were all minor workings, he was fairly sure he could cast most of them all day and not be out of breath, but as it turned out there was a good reason they were taught magic in a specific order.

“I must admit Harry, I am very impressed. I don’t think I have a single second year student who could cast that spell with any real results, let alone a first year.” Flitwick clapped Harry on the arm and then made his way over to his own chair, with several thick tomes stacked on the seat so he could sit level with visitors it didn’t look particularly comfortable, but he hopped up without complaint as Harry collapsed into the simple wooden chair in front of the desk. “You remind me of your mother Harry, she was a very gifted witch in all areas, but she truly shone when casting charms.”

“Thanks professor, but I don’t think so. It’s taken me nearly two weeks to be able to cast it that well, and it still almost collapsed.” Harry sighed, he knew he was being hard on himself, but the next time a bludger tried to brain him or a Troll fancied a snack, he wanted to be able to protect himself. He tucked his wand back into its sheath under his arm and gripped his stick tightly, resisting the urge to tap it on the floor as he often did when upset.

“Harry tell me, can Mr Boot or Mr Longbottom cast the Testudo charm? What about Miss Bones or Abbot? Or even Miss Granger?” Flitwick asked as Harry shook his head after each name.

“No, but to be fair they haven’t really tried. Terry and Nev both gave it a go a few times, but I think they preferred throwing sparks and quills at me than casting the spell.” Thinking back, Terry and Neville had both given up suspiciously quickly on trying the spell once the testing method was decided on. He would have to get them back for that.

“Perhaps.” Flitwick said slowly, weighing each syllable before letting them sound. “Regardless, I am pleased you are not resting on your laurels Harry, I have heard good things from all of your teachers. Although Minerva believes you are not giving your full effort in Transfiguration?”

At the mention of Transfiguration, Harry couldn’t stop the twitch of his hand that tapped his cane against the stone floor. He had hoped to avoid discussing the subject, in fact he preferred not to think of the subject at all if he could.

“I see. Could you demonstrate a transfiguration for me Harry? Any transfiguration spell you like.” Flitwick asked as he reached for a goblet on his desk and took a short swig from it, a faint bubbling sound escaping the rim as he did so.

Harry wasn’t particularly fond of any of the transfiguration spells they had learnt so far, but for Professor Flitwick he would attempt one.

He fixed the form of the spell in his mind, focusing on the change he wanted to make before he made a counterclockwise twist of his wand and spoke the incantation. “Mutatio Cerafilum.”

The handily placed matchstick on Flitwick’s desk twisted and grew, pale wood changing to wax and the red head shifted and sparked until, with a little wobble, a burning candle sat upon the desk where the matchstick had before. It wasn’t perfect. The wax had the woodgrain printed on the outer layer and the candle flame was unusually red, but it was still a candle.

“Well, that’s not bad at all Harry. A little practice and you should have that perfected, its easy to forget things like textures or exact colours when you first start out.” Flitwick poked at the candle as Harry sank back into his chair and did his best not to let his disappointment show. He didn’t do a great job of it though as Flitwick looked up from the candle and frowned. “What is wrong Harry? This isn’t a bad attempt at all, with a bit of practice you can fix the mistakes.”

Those words did it as Harry felt the sobs burst out, his eyes burning as tears they couldn’t shed tried to swell. He wasn’t aware of the professor moving until he felt the short man’s surprisingly strong arms pull him in for a gentle hug. He didn’t know how long he cried before he was able to drag himself back under control, but once the last sobs hiccupped out he was able to explain himself to the confused charms teacher.

“I can’t … I can’t see the textures properly, so I can’t picture them in my head, and if I can’t picture them then I can’t transfigure them properly.” He explained as he gestured at the gestured at the odd candle on the desk, the cherry flame swelling briefly as he did so.

Professor Flitwick nodded as he cast a look at the candle and leaned back, stroking his beard as he inquired about the colours.

“They’re the same, some colours are the same in my sight but most of them are brighter, or duller, and if the object is magical, then the caster’s colour is always in there somewhere, normally just little specks but sometimes its more.” He shrugged despondently. “I don’t think I’ll ever be as good at Transfiguration as I am at Charms professor.”

“Nonsense Harry. Just because your transfigurations might not look identical to the examples, doesn’t mean you aren’t good at the spells. Tell me, could you make that candle taller? What about changing its shape, could you make it a cube?”

After a moments pause and an eager prompt from Flitwick, Harry demonstrated that yes, he could make the candle taller and then a cube, though the woodgrain on the wax remained and the candle flame continued to burn bright red.

“I will speak with Professor McGonagall about this, I may need to share some details of your particular method of viewing the world, if I have your permission?” Harry nodded with a shrug, he trusted the charms teacher with the secret and if he trusted McGonagall then it was good enough for Harry. “Your way of seeing the world has many advantages, but it comes with its own difficulties. I will try to keep this in mind going forward, but please do come to me if you are having difficulties, I am here for all my Ravens.”

Harry smiled as the professor made a note on a piece of parchment on his desk before he picked up an envelope and offered it to him.

“I did have another reason for wanting to speak with you, I received this letter from your aunt, she asked me to pass it onto you.”

The letter was printed using his old braille typewriter, he could tell because the ‘e’ was crooked from the time Dudley had knocked it to the floor and bent the key.

“Dear Harry,

I received your letter, I am glad you are enjoying school, Lily always had marvellous stories when she came back on her breaks, and I can’t wait to hear yours in person.

Which leads me onto the purpose for this letter, Vernon’s sister has invited herself over for Christmas this year. In light of this, I would suggest you stay at Hogwarts this break, I have already sent my permission note to Professor Flitwick. I will miss you Harry, but I believe you are getting the better deal this year, Marge is bringing Ripper and I can already see the carpets being ruined.

All my love,

Aunt Petunia”

Harry was disappointed to not see Petunia for Christmas, she would wake up early and give him his present before Dudley and Vernon woke up normally and the memories were some of his favourites from his childhood. However, he couldn’t pretend to be unhappy that he wouldn’t have to deal with Marge. She was a singularly unpleasant woman, much like her brother she was obsessed with being seen as “normal”, though how anyone could think her and that demon dog Ripper were normal was beyond Harry.

“Your aunt’s letter to me mentioned that you might be spending the Winter Break here at the castle Harry, is that the case?” Flitwick asked as he took another long sip from the goblet on his desk. Harry nodded as he ran his fingers across the page once more before folding it and tucking it into his bag. “Hmm, well I would need to get permission from your aunt, but would you like to join me on Christmas evening for a meal? Castamir is hosting a small gathering, just a few of us with nowhere else to be on Christmas day, you would be most welcome to join us.”

“Wow, really? I mean if you’re sure Mr Leventis wouldn’t mind.” Harry couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, although spending Christmas alone in the castle wasn’t a terrible prospect, spending it at the Copper Artifice would be much more enjoyable.

“I will write to your aunt and Castamir to confirm, but yes I doubt it will be a problem Harry, now I do believe I have kept you from your compatriots long enough.” Flitwick waved a hand towards the door as it opened gently to reveal a nervous looking Neville with his hand raised as if to knock.

“Thanks professor. Hey Nev, good timing.” Harry said as he made his way to the now open door, cane in hand and a broad smile on his face.

Christmas came around quickly, and Harry was left as one of only a dozen students still in the castle, though most of the other students were older and spending the time revising for exams so he was as good as alone for the week running up to Christmas day. Harry spent much of the week with Hagrid who had invited him down for tea regularly, the two spending the time on walks along the forest’s edge and whittling outside Hagrid’s home by the brazier.

Harry had never whittled before, unless you counted peeling carrots and potatoes with his aunt, but once Hagrid had shown him the basics Harry had found it a very relaxing pastime. It had come in useful as well, he had been able to carve a present for each of his friends and Hagrid had taken him to the Owlery to show him the school owls he could use to send them off.

Hagrid was a true gentle giant; he had spent may hours telling Harry stories of the forest and the creatures that lived inside. Centaurs, Imps, Will-O-Wisp’s, Unicorns. All manner of beings resided in the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid seemed to know them all. Though Harry was grateful he had eaten his aunt’s rock cakes before, so he knew to dunk the very dense bun in his tea before taking a bite, a little moist but very tasty overall.

Christmas morning was a solitary affair, Harry was the only Ravenclaw left in his year so spent the morning opening the small pile of presents that he had awoken to at the foot of his bed alone. He was surprised at the amount of presents, a book on Medieval Charms from Hermione, a warm fur-lined jacked from Hannah, a box of chocolate frogs from Terry, a book on charms used with magical plants from Neville (along with a note that expressed Neville’s eagerness to test a few of them that made Harry chuckle), a scarf and fingerless gloves from Susan and some new clothes from Petunia, woolly jumpers and cardigans to keep him warm.

The last gift was wrapped in brown paper with a braille note that read “Your father left this in my possession before he died. Use it well.” It was unsigned but as he peeled back the paper, he had a good idea of who it was from. Folded into a neat square was a cloak or robe of some kind, made almost entirely of magic. A familiar magic dotted with stars of white that drifted in the dark violet depths. Professor Dumbledore’s magic. He reached out a hand and lifted a corner of the material, freezing as he did so. The moment his fingers had brushed the silky material it had changed. Emerald green spreading from the point he had touched, spilling across the entirety of the cloak until no trace of violet remained, though the white specks did linger, continuing to float among the now green magic. Unsure of what to do with such an item, Harry carefully folded it and wrapped it back up in the brown paper, tucking it into his trunk for safety.

He spent the rest of the morning sat in the common room by the fire, reading the book Neville had gotten for him. It was surprisingly interesting, there were spells to create sunlight, change the temperature even to create little rain clouds for the strange plants that needed more watering.

Soon though he was disturbed by a gentle cough and looked up to see Professor Flitwick stood in the entrance to the common room waiting for him. He packed away the book and picked up the small bag by his chair before he followed the professor out of the common room, down the stairs and out onto the grounds.

They crossed paths with Hagrid who was making his way through the heavy snow up to the castle, he stopped to wish them both a merry Christmas before carrying on up the path. It was cold enough that Harry was already grateful for the jacket and gloves he had received that morning and he resolved to thank the girls when he saw them again.

Once they had made their way past the tall wrought iron gates that marked the edge of the school grounds, Flitwick stopped and turned to Harry.

“Apologies Harry, but I’m afraid we will be apparating again.” Without another word, the short professor gripped Harry’s arm and they disappeared with a quiet crack.

Their feet hit cobbled stone a moment later, though Harry had to lean on his cane to avoid falling over as a wave of dizziness hit him. It passed quickly but it reminded him how much he wasn’t looking forwarded to learning to do that.
“I am sorry Harry, but I find that sometimes it is better to get it over with quickly. It feels much better when you apparate yourself, I promise.” Flitwick said as he led the way out from the side street they had appeared in, following the same path as they had back in August as they made their way down the eerily quiet Alley.

The cobbled stone was covered in a thin layer of crisp snow, their steps crunching as they passed Ollivanders. The empty street was unnerving to Harry, his experience of it being very different the last time he was there. As they rounded the corner, the Copper Artifice came into view, its wooden sign swinging creakily in the breeze.

Professor Flitwick opened the door and let Harry in before leading him to the counter at the back of the shop, weaving a path between tables and shelves all covered with heavy cloth sheets. As they reached the counter, Castamir’s warm voice called down from the door at the rear of the store. The door was covered in a web of purple magic, runes and symbols that made up the strands moving quickly across the wooden surface.

“Filius, come on up. You are the first ones here.” At the invitation, the web of magic shimmered, the symbols slowing to a halt.

The charms master led Harry behind the counter and opened the door without a hint of worry, revealing a staircase leading up to the second story of the building. At the top of the stairs was another doorway, this one already open, to a large open room. A warm fireplace crackled to one side with five comfortable looking armchairs gathered around it. A long table stretched down the middle of the room covered in silver plates and dishes of various sizes and stood in front of them, wearing long robes and holding a goblet that occasionally spat out sparks of blue and green, was Castamir Leventis, his arms wide to welcome them.

“Filius, Harry, Merry Christmas! Come come, would you like a drink? I am afraid food will not be ready for a little while yet, but I have plenty of drink, in fact I think I have a bottle of that mead you so love Filius.” Castamir gestured to a silver trolley that wheeled itself across the room from the far corner, a variety of bottles of different shapes and sizes stacked atop it.

“As long as you are offering Castamir, then I will have a glass of the mead and a bottle of Butterbeer for Harry I think.” Flitwick turned to Harry as Castamir turned to the trolley and opened a tall bottle, a honey-sweet scent escaping as he did so. “You will like the Butterbeer Harry, its far better than Gilly Water.”

Harry, who had no clue what either of those drinks were, settled for nodding in what he thought was a wise manner as Castamir turned back around and handed the two of them their drinks, a goblet filled with the thick sweet-smelling liquid for Filius and a glass bottle with a foamy liquid within for Harry. Professor Flitwick took a deep swig and let out a sigh of satisfied approval as he made his way over to the chairs by the fire, Harry followed and took a tentative sip of his own drink as he did so. It was unique. Fizzy like the lemonade his aunt would make in summer, but creamy and without the slightly bitter aftertaste, it tasted of butterscotch and warmed him pleasantly as he swallowed. Evidently the look of relief on his face was noticeable as Castamir and Filius let out chuckles as he sat down.

“Haha you didn’t think it would taste of actual butter did you Harry?” Castamir asked as he joined them on the chairs, leaning back deeply into his as he rested his drink precariously on the arm of the chair. Harry did his best not to blush as he took another sip, he had in fact been a little worried about that.

Luckily, they were distracted at that moment by a pop as a short creature appeared next to Castamir’s chair. It stood around three feet tall, with wide floppy ears and long thin limbs. Wearing a simple grey cloth robe of some kind, it’s magic was silver with stripes of purple and it bowed to the three of them as it turned to face Castamir.

“The food be’s ready in fifteen minutes sir, would you’s like me to be bringing it straight in?” He asked in a happy sounding voice.

“Ah, thank you Arka, yes please do, and make sure to set enough aside for yourself.” Castamir said as the short creature bobbed its head once before disappearing with another pop. “Now, what’s this I hear about you slaying a Troll single-handed Harry?” Castamir asked, leaning forward eagerly.

“Oh no, I didn’t kill it, I barely even slowed it down.” Harry said, taking another sip from his bottle as he leant his cane against the chair on his right.

“Oh really? That’s not how I heard it, something about a dangerous fire curse and scarring the beast permanently?” Castamir looked to Flitwick as he asked the second question who nodded slowly.

“There was no fire curse, but yes Harry did succeed in scarring the beast, he actually managed to manipulate a sparks charm to do it. The Parlux charm I believe.”

“Really?” Castamir cast an appraising look Harry’s way as he sank back into his chair and took a long slow drink from his goblet before speaking again. “Very impressive, its not easy to manipulate a spell on the fly, especially with enough potency to scar a Troll. You’ve actually beat my record as well.”

“Merlin not the damsel story again.” Professor Flitwick shook his head and got up from his seat, making his way over to the silver drinks trolley. “I need another drink if I’m going to hear this again.”

“Ignore the old grump Harry,” Castamir said as he stood from his seat and took a stand in front of the fire. “Now, when I was but a young lad, barely twelve, I snuck out from my home, looking for adventure in the woods near my village. The moon lit my path as I delved deeper into the forest before I came upon them. A young woman from the village, she was beautiful with long flowing blonde hair and clear blue eyes. And in front of her, club raised in the air, an enormous Ogre-”

“When he first told me this story it was an Imp about to leap at a bunny rabbit, so take it with a pinch of salt Harry.” Flitwick interjected as he settled back into his chair with a refilled goblet of mead and a grin on his face causing Harry to laugh, though he quickly schooled his expression as Castamir glared at the charms master.

“Ahem, an Ogre Harry, at least twenty feet tall, of course I couldn’t just abandon the damsel in distress. So, with a war cry I leapt into the clearing and did battle with the beast, it took me but a single spell to scare the Ogre away and the maiden, well she was so grateful she took me back to her home and-”

“He’s eleven Castamir!” Flitwick coughed.

“Ah…yes, she gave me a bar of gold as reward I suppose.” Castamir grumbled as he sat back down. “Anyway, you beat me by a year Harry, and a Troll as well, not an easy creature to best.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before there was a loud GONG and the floor trembled slightly. Harry was more startled by the sudden weave of vibrating purple magic that appeared in his vision, strands of light that stretched through the walls, floor and ceiling, running through the walls and even the chairs. Castamir waved a hand absently and the strands of magic settled before they began to fade, even from Harry’s sight, until they had vanished completely.

“Alastor is here.” Castamir said simply as he winked at Harry’s befuddled expression.

Soon the sound of wood on wood echoed heavily from the staircase before a figure rose into view. Tall and broad shouldered, Alastor also leaned on a cane, although his was much thicker and taller than Harry’s and was carved with symbols and runes that glowed a burnt orange in his sight. He was wearing a heavy leather overcoat and as he stepped into the room Harry couldn’t help but flinching. The man’s left eye burned with magic. It was like a small star, its light spilling from it in waves. Golden orange magic swirled so brightly that Harry was amazed the man’s head had not exploded.

He limped into the room and greeted Castamir and Filius gruffly, accepting a tankard of some kind from his host, though he did wave his wand across the drink before taking a deep gulp from it.

“Harry, this is Alastor Moody, the infamous Auror Captain.” Castamir introduced him and the grizzled man offered his hand to shake as Harry stammered a greeting.

“Good to meet you Potter, I knew your parents, good people and fine mages the both of them.” Alastor said as he dragged one of the chairs around until it faced the door with the back to the wall beside the fireplace. He draped his overcoat across the back before collapsing heavily into the chair, a clawed metal leg stretched out as he did so. “Leventis, what have you been up to with Dearborn and why did I get a letter from Fudge’s office about bringing you in for questioning?” He growled out as he took another deep swig from his tankard.

“Ah, well Percival was out in the Black Forest for Gringotts and they found a crown, supposedly its from a Duke of Bavaria, its cursed to drive the wearer mad. The duke beat his sons to death and spent his last days scratching prison walls, apparently his brother wanted the title and hired a witch to get it. Anyway, two curse breakers nearly killed each other over it, it inspires jealousy, paranoia and rage in those around it. Percival was on the team that recovered it and convinced Gringotts I was the one to deal with it.” Castamir explained, Harry did his best to follow the conversation but some of it was beyond him. Then another GONG and again the strands of magic appeared, vibrating wildly, interestingly Alastor seemed to notice them as well as he poked one with his wand before Castamir waved his hand again and they disappeared. “Speak of the devil, Percival is here.”

A few moments later and a younger man bounded up the stairs, tall with fair hair, his deep grey magic was tightly contained in his chest, very little spilling to his limbs unlike most wizards Harry had met whose magic seemed to fill their whole bodies.

“Merry Christmas you old grumps!” The young man, Percival, cried as he strode in and sat down in the last armchair, his wand appearing in his hand for a moment to flick away a burst of magic from Alastor with a laugh. “Oh cheer up, I come bearing gifts.” He reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out a bottle far too big to fit. “Ogden’s Finest 1942, an excellent year or so I was told by the pretty lady who sold it to me.”

“Hmph, still alive then Dearborn.” Moody grunted as he inspected the offered bottle, waving his wand across it as he spoke before nodding and handing it off to Castamir.

“Indeed, the wilds of Borneo and the Black Forest couldn’t end me, though there was an Acromantula nest that did its damnedest in Borneo.” Percival seemed to take note of Harry’s presence then and let out a short breath. “Well blow me down, you look the spitting image of James.”

“Ah yes, Harry, this is Percival Dearborn, he was in the year below your parents in Hogwarts, he is a Curse Breaker for Gringotts.” Filius said as he introduced the two.

“Nice to meet you Harry, I’m Percival, now don’t let Alastor’s grumpy persona put you off, he’s a teddy bear underneath it all, starved for affection I reckon. OW!” Percival shot up with a yelp as Alastor tucked his wand away, the burst of pink light that had hit Percival’s arm so quick Harry had barely caught it.

“Stow it Dearborn, now you explain to me, why am I meant to be questioning you on a smuggling charge?” Alastor asked with growl as Percival spluttered and Professor Flitwick laughed.

“Bah, trumped up charges that’s all Alastor. Some Undersecretary pulled us in when we got back and threatened us with Azkaban if we didn’t tell her what was found in Germany, wouldn’t take no for an answer. In the end we had to get a message to Ragnok to get us out.” Percival paused here to look at Castamir. “Speaking of which, Cas I’ve got an answer for you from Ragnok. If you can bind the curse you get twelve percent of the final sale price, but if you can break the curse then you get fifteen.” Percival handed a folded piece of parchment to Castamir as he finished relaying the offer, but Castamir just tucked the letter into a pocket and nodded.

“I had guessed as much; I’ll need a few weeks at least. Now I am sure food will be ready shortly, and I doubt Harry here wants to hear about horribly cursed objects, so a brighter topic perhaps?” Castamir suggested and, almost as if summoned, there was a brief pop as the previously empty plates filled with all manner of foods. Roasted meats, vegetables, pies, and bowls of stew covered the table with warm bread rolls on each corner. It smelled fantastic.

Harry was actually rather interested by the topic of the cursed crown, but let it go in favour of piling a plate high with food and returning to the chairs to find that a table had appeared in the middle of the chairs for them all to rest their plates on. Harry turned to the gruff Auror who was sat on his left with a bowl of stew and a bread roll.

“Uh, Mr Moody sir, I was won-”

“None of that sir stuff, not unless you join the Auror Office anyway, Alastor will do.” Alastor said as he took a sip of his stew and waited for Harry to continue.

“Oh okay, well Mr-Alastor, I was wondering, what do Auror’s do exactly?” He asked curiously, Curse Breaker and Enchanter seemed fairly self-explanatory but he had never heard of Auror’s before.

“No I suppose you wouldn’t have heard of us before. Well lad, Auror’s are Dark Wizard hunters, or we’re meant to be anyway. We’re like muggle detectives and soldiers rolled into one, the Ministry has a Department for Magical Law Enforcement, most folk call it the DMLE, and in that are the Auror and Hit Wizard departments.” As Harry opened his mouth to ask another question, the Auror evidently guessed it as he added. “Hit Wizards are like police, the requirements to be a Hit Wizard aren’t as strict, so we have more of them, but one decent Auror is worth ten Hit Wizards. We work alone or in pairs if we’re training someone, and we hunt down Dark Wizards or dangerous criminal elements.” Alastor explained, pausing to take a spoonful of stew and a mouthful of ale to wash it down. Harry was jostled from his listening as a fresh bottle of Butterbeer was placed on the table in front of him by Professor Flitwick before Alastor carried on.

“For instance, recently I’ve been hunting a werewolf for the past few weeks, now I should say that lycanthropy is a curse; it doesn’t make a person evil just because they have it. But this guy, he was rotten before the curse, now he’s a monster no matter the time of month. And I chased him halfway across the country before I caught up to him in Dover, I had him in my sights before he slipped away. Someone got him a portkey before I could get the ward up and he got away. But anyway, that’s my job.”

“Much better to be a Curse Breaker, Harry. The money is great, and you get to travel all over the world.” Percival piped up as the Auror grunted before he turned to join in a conversation Castamir and Filius were having about the Lycanthropy Curse.

“So, you’re like a tomb raider, right? Terry said his cousin is one and he spends most of his time in Egypt.” Harry asked curiously.

“Ah yes, Egypt is full of tombs, see the Ancient Egyptians were very clever and managed to hide away a big chunk of Egypt from the rest of the world, the spells only started to fail a hundred years or so ago and ever since then it’s been a race by Curse Breakers to get tot the best bits. They uncovered a whole new city recently, Thinis, and the curses and traps are very dangerous. You see, curses are an interesting branch of magic, some people will try to tell you that curses are just like charms or transfigurations, but they are not.” Percival paused as he seemed to struggle for the right words before he continued. “Dark magic like curses can only be cast with true hatred, you need to want to hurt for them to work. Now, after a few decades or even centuries, that hatred just grows, and the curses begin to change, they twist. So, the normal counter-curses might not even work, it’s very dangerous but the rewards are equally weighty, Gringotts pays very well, and the ladies love a dangerous man.” Percival winked and laughed as Harry blushed and spluttered.

“Leave the poor boy alone Percival, now I believe we have gifts to exchange?” Castamir announced as Percival chuckled with Filius. Noticing Harry’s discomfort, Castamir added. “Don’t worry Harry, we don’t expect anything from you, Filius told us it was a surprise for you.”

“No I do have some presents, I didn’t know how many people would be here so there are a few to choose from.” Harry said as he reached down for his bag.

“I’ll go first.” Percival declared eagerly as he pulled a small leather sack from his pocket and handed them all small, wrapped gifts from within. “Now I have got you all the same thing, for different reasons.” Harry carefully unwrapped the small parcel to reveal a chain with a small metal symbol, a little like a snowflake, hanging from it. The whole chain pulsed with golden magic and the metal felt warm in his palm as he held it. “We ran into an enchanter in the north of the Black Forest, he was pretty good, and he had these for sale. They are protective amulets, the symbol is The Aegishjalmur, the Helm of Awe, and it should protect you from minor curses, there is a limit obviously, but we tested one and it did surprisingly well. So, Filius and Cas, I thought you would enjoy testing them. Alastor, it might come in handy one day so just keep hold of it. And Harry, well you never know, besides maybe you can have some fun with it.”

“Thanks Percival, its brilliant!” Harry exclaimed as he turned the small pendant over in his hand, enjoying the way the magic shivered as he touched it.

“Yes, thank you Percival.”

“Cheers Dearborn.”

“Thank you, Percival.”

Professor Flitwick stood next, pulling out gifts of various sizes from his pocket and handing them out. Harry received a thick book on Elemental Magic, a branch of magic that combined Charms and Transfiguration. Castamir got a leather glove he seemed very happy about, Percival got a different book but seemed equally pleased and Alastor received a flask that was covered in Professor Flitwick’s blue magic.

Castamir went next and gave Harry his gift first, a small box which he opened to reveal a ring.

“Hey Cas, don’t you think he’s a it young to – urk.” Percival began before another burst of magic darted from Alastor’s wand silencing the young curse breaker.

“I enquired with a friend in the Ministry and found that your family ring is missing, it could be in Gringotts somewhere or it might have been lost that night. Either way, until you can find a replacement, this should do.” Castamir explained as Harry picked up the ring and turned it in his hand. It was a simple signet ring, silver, with a stylised ‘P’ in front of two crossed wands. “I’m afraid I couldn’t find the Potter family crest in the records, so I had to improvise.” The ring had a single thin thread of purple magic running through it that Castamir explained was to stop it from being damaged, but apart from that it was a simple ring. Harry loved it, a reminder of his family.

As Harry slid the ring onto the chain alongside the pendant Percival had given him, Castamir distributed the rest of his gifts. A brass ring that Alastor slipped onto the end of his staff, a small glass sphere filled with crackling white magic for Flitwick and a copper key brimming with purple magic for Percival.

“That will unlock almost any door Percival, even ones behind most wards so for Circe’s sake don’t get caught with it or lose it.” Castamir said as he sat back down.

Alastor handed Harry an unwrapped miniature telescope that spun on its axis, a sneakoscope from his own collection apparently that Harry should keep next to his bed and it will wake him up if someone nearby wants to hurt him or steal from him. Castamir is just given a slip of parchment, Percival a new pocket watch and Professor Flitwick a thick tome on Wards.

Finally, it is Harry’s turn, so he takes out the contents of his bag and places them on the table. There are five of them in total, carved by Harry each one is a different magical creature that Harry was shown by Hagrid either on the borders of the forest or as a carving the groundskeeper had done himself that Harry had used as inspiration. A Unicorn rearing on two legs, a Phoenix with its wings spread wide, a Cerberus with three heads all baring their teeth, an Acromantula and an Imp with a wide grin. Harry was rather proud of all the carvings and was pleased when the older wizards all praised his efforts.

“I think it only appropriate I get to have this after its older cousins tried to eat me a few months ago.” Percival said as he snatched up the carved Acromantula and rested it on the book he had also received.

“Well, the Unicorn is a rather impressive specimen, so I’ll have that if nobody objects.” Castamir said as he picked up the carving and thanked Harry.

“I’ll take the Cerberus, might enchant it to scare some of the trainees.” Alastor said as he lifted it up to examine it. “Good likeness there Potter.”

“I will have the Imp then; Phoenixes are a little … extravagant for my tastes.” Professor Flitwick said to a chuckle from Alastor. Harry shrugged and tucked the Phoenix back into his bag, glad they had enjoyed his gifts at least.

The rest of the evening was spent with full bellies in front of a warm fire as the old friends began to regale Harry with stories from their youths, even the irritable Auror shared a funny tale about a drunk wizard who thought his wife was missing, but it turned out he had apparated to the wrong house.

By the end of the night, Harry was given a standing invitation by Alastor if he ever wanted to join the Aurors, Percival had insisted Harry write to him the next time something interesting happened at Hogwarts and Castamir had declared that Harry was now a required guest at all future gatherings of the group.

It was a very tired but very happy Harry that made his way back to the Ravenclaw Dorm rooms that night, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he fell asleep.

A/N Hey everyone! Apologies for the very late upload, I unfortunately caught COVID and then Christmas happened, it’s a shame because I wanted this to be out for Xmas day but better late than never!

I hope everybody had a good holiday whatever you celebrate.

I want to thank everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed this story, it means a lot to know that so many people enjoy my work. I will do my best to be a bit more prompt with the next chapter. There will be a bit of a time skip in the next chapter.

Please review and let me know if you liked this chapter, and if you didn’t then what could I do differently?

Many thanks for the support!

Daedalus Smythe

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Winter turned to spring and Harry was grateful for it. The icy paths that wound from the Castle proper to the Greenhouses were dangerous anyway, but he had slipped onto his rear end three times and would have fallen far more than that without his cane and the occasional hand from Terry as they made their way to Herbology on the cold mornings. Apart from the nearly lethal trips to the greenhouses, Harry was pleased with how his lessons were going. Charms continued to be his favourite class, Professor Flitwick had begun to challenge him to learn more obscure or lesser used alternatives to the charms they were learning in the classroom and Harry had greatly enjoyed searching the library for older charms that he could practice. He had realised something during this challenge that the charms master had set for him; there was always more than one way to do something with magic. For instance, if he were somewhere dark and needed light he could cast the wand-lighting charm, simple but not particularly useful if he wanted to illuminate a large area or light something far away from him. But he could also use a different charm like the Sunlight charm which produced a brighter light and even some warmth, or he could use the Ortus Solis potion which emitted bright light when shaken, he could even transfigure something into a wooden torch and set it ablaze. The only limit to your options to overcome a challenge or complete a task, were the limits you set on your knowledge. He hoped that was the lesson Professor Flitwick had been hoping to teach him because he had taken it to heart. For every spell they learned in class he would work out at least three other ways to accomplish its effect, with a spell or a combination of them or even a potion or plant.

The added work had confused Susan and Hannah, after all they already had essays and assignments given to them, why make more for yourself? But Terry had actually agreed with him, though he hadn’t devoted himself to the practice as devoutly as Harry had, Terry began making suggestions to Harry for alternatives when they were doing their nightly quizzing. Neville had agreed with Harry’s thinking, stating that the most famous witches and wizards were masters of multiple branches of magic, but had stuck with the assigned learning for now, although his wand had helped with his spell casting, he still struggled with some aspects of their lessons and wanted to improve before he added more work for himself.

Another change was Harry’s attitude towards Transfiguration, what was once his least favourite class become his second favourite. Professor McGonagall had shifted her focus from textures and colours to the form and shape of his attempts, pushing him to manipulate the transfigurations as far as he could, adding changes and details to make his creations more complex. His eagerness had only increased when she had told him that his father would be proud, James Potter had been on his way to Mastery in Transfiguration when he had died and according to Professor McGonagall, he had been insistent that Harry would inherit his talent.

Harry had even been able to see a real Dragon’s egg! He had gone to visit Hagrid one afternoon in February and had found the giant man warming the egg in the fireplace, thankfully he had been able to convince Hagrid that raising a fire breathing dragon in a wooden hut next to a school full of children was not a good idea. A quick visit to Professor Flitwick’s office to explain what had happened and how Hagrid had “found” a dragon’s egg, and definitely not won it in an illegal card game, had sorted the problem. The egg was collected a few days later and transported to the Romanian Dragon Reserve, Hagrid was even invited to visit over the summer to see the reserve and he was given a commendation for his actions. A few weeks later Hagrid had a slightly tear stained picture pinned in his hut of a small dragon hatchling fresh from its egg.

All good things must come to an end though, as Harry found when he was making his way down to the Great Hall with Neville for dinner the last weekend before Easter. Terry, Harry and Neville had been in their practice room with Susan and Hannah enjoying their day off, Harry and Terry had been playing Gobstones (a game Harry had not enjoyed his first taste of – quite literally!) and the girls had been caught by a spray of the noxious liquid in Harry’s borrowed stones. Chaos ensued as Terry tried to apologise, even going so far as to blame Harry for moving out of the way. Eventually the girls’ wrath calmed somewhat and the two of them left to change before dinner, with Terry agreeing to walk them back and explain to anyone they met why they smelled so awful now.

So, Harry and Neville made their way to the grand staircase as Neville showed Harry the Remembrall that his grandmother had sent him. It was an interesting enchantment, well beyond anything Harry had read about yet, but interesting nonetheless. Unfortunately, as Harry was passing the ball back to Neville the staircase came to a grinding halt and the ball slipped from the Gryffindor’s fingers, bouncing down the stone steps until it came to a rolling stop at the foot of another student. Draco Malfoy bent down and picked up the Remembrall with a cruel grin and Harry couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips, he had managed to avoid the rude blonde since the Flying lessons and had wanted to keep it that way if possible.

“Well well, look who it is boys.” Malfoy sneered as he nudged the heavyset boys in front of him. “The squib and the blind raven, which of you clumsy oafs dropped this then?”

“Just hand it back Malfoy and we can all carry on down to dinner.” Harry offered as he held out his hand, though he had a feeling the act was in vain. He was proven correct when the Slytherin boy laughed and began to throw the Remembrall from hand to hand and leaned against the banister.

“Oh I don’t know about that, see I rather like the look of this little bauble, I think I might keep it.” Malfoy tossed the ball high into the air before fumbling the catch and nearly falling in his attempt to retrieve the ball. Neville let out a snort of laughter at the sight of the flustered blonde and even one of the other Slytherin boys smirked. This just seemed to enrage Malfoy who fumed before digging a hand into his pocket and holding up a clenched fist. “Here, maybe you can buy Longbottom a better inheritance Potter.”

Malfoy reared back and tossed the item straight at Harry, and he reacted by instinct, hours of practice with the spell before Christmas coming back to him as he raised his arm and cast the reversal charm.

“Waddiwasi!” He shouted and watched as the object halted in mid-air, caught by strands of green magic, before it suddenly shot back towards Malfoy colliding with his forehead with a smack, and then falling to the floor with a clink. A small bronze coin lay at the Slytherin’s feet. The young Malfoy looked stunned for a moment and Harry took the chance to wave his wand and with a whispered “Wingardium Leviosa” he floated the Remembrall back to Neville’s shaking hand.

Harry was feeling rather pleased with himself before he heard a hoarse shout from behind him, the pride being replaced by a sinking feeling as he noticed a figure stomping down the stairs towards them.

“Oi! I saw that, no spells in the corridors! That’ll be detention for the both of you this evening!” Filch shouted as he pushed past Neville and pointed at Harry and Malfoy who immediately began turning an interesting shade of red.

“What?! But I didn’t do anything!” Malfoy shouted at the elderly caretaker, though he quickly quailed when the man turned to him with a silent glare.

“Right, you’ll both meet me in the courtyard at seven sharp. If you’re late, then it’ll be another detention.” Filch said as Harry and Neville hurried down the stairs as best they could, Neville trying to apologise to Harry as they did.

“It’s okay Nev, really. It was Malfoy’s fault, not yours.” Harry said as he patted his friend on the shoulder and led him to the table, all while inwardly he was angry that he had been punished and a little worried at what Professor Flitwick would say when he found out.

Dinner passed quickly, though Harry did receive several pats on the back as the story of what had happened spread through the school. It seemed several people were fed up with the blonde bully and appreciated him being knocked down a peg or two. Terry had even bemoaned missing it, asking Neville to tell the story twice before Harry had to leave for his detention.

Harry made his way to the courtyard and was quickly joined by Filch who ignored him and stood by the archway leading to the greenhouses. A few minutes later a grumbling Malfoy arrived accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle who both handed notes to the irritable caretaker who read them and then laughed nastily before turning and beckoning them to follow. The caretaker led them down the path and then turned off, heading towards the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid’s hut.

As they neared the hut, the door swung open and Hagrid stepped out with a lantern in one hand and the other on Fang’s collar as he barked and strained to greet them.

“Evenin’ Filch, these the ones for detention?” Hagrid asked as he nodded a silent greeting to Harry.

“Yep, I’ll be down at eleven to take them back to the castle, try not to lose them Hagrid.” Filch laughed and turned, leaving them with the groundskeeper as he made his way back towards the school.

“What are we doing then? Weeding?” Malfoy scoffed as he began walking towards the greenhouses before Hagrid corrected him.

“No, you’ll be comin’ inter the forest with me, there’s an injured unicorn in there and we’re gonna help it.” Hagrid reached back into the hut for moment before pulling back and handing an unlit lantern to Crabbe.

“What?! But there are monsters in there! Werewolves and centaurs!” Malfoy cried as he stared at the forest’s edge as if expecting one to come bursting out at any moment. “You can’t expect us to go in there, I’ll write to my father, he’ll have your job for this!”

Harry hadn’t ever known Hagrid to be angry, in fact he hadn’t even known him to be irritated, but as the enormous groundskeeper strode to the cowering Slytherin in a single step, he suddenly realised that he was quite glad his friend was normally so jovial.

“Yer at Hogwarts now boy, and here we put you to work not have you sit about writing useless lines. And if you reckin your father would say diff’rent then write to him, but he’ll tell you the same Malfoy.” Hagrid leaned down with each word, his voice a rumble of thunder as the Harry felt his chest vibrate with the giant’s speech. “Now, we’ll split in two groups-”

“We want the hound then!” Malfoy interjected, pointed at the slobbering boarhound still pulling at Hagrid’s grip.
“Alright, should warn you though, he’s a coward at heart he is.” Hagrid said as he released the dog with a whispered word and a pointed finger at the three Slytherin’s. “Guess that means its you and me Harry. Now if you see anything then shoot sparks into the air, and for Merlin’s sake don’t wander from the path.”

Hagrid disappeared into his hut for a moment before returning with a long bundle of leathers that he tucked into his belt loop and then the three Slytherin’s and Fang took the North path that curved around the top of the school while Hagrid and Harry took the East path that led deeper into the forest.

Harry was grateful to be with Hagrid, although the dark had never bothered him all that much, his sight barely changed at night, it was still eery to be walking among the ancient trees that made up the forest. The path was a winding route, covered in roots and small shrubs that made it nearly impossible to follow for a normal person, but Hagrid knew exactly where to step and walk to avoid the worst of it. They quickly lost sight of the edge of the forest and were surrounded by towering trees, the sound of the wind whistling through them and the creaking of their limbs all they could hear, interspersed with the occasional bark or howl.

They walked for almost an hour before they found the first trace of their prey, Harry spotted it first. A little ways ahead of them and to the left of the path was a small bush and speckled across its leaves was a shimmering silver liquid. Hagrid spotted it moments after Harry did and wiped his fingers across the leaves to check before nodding and tuning to Harry.

“We’re on its trail now, this is the third one this month that’s been attacked, if we hurry we should be able to save it.” Hagrid wiped his fingers in the dirt, making sure to remove all of the silver blood before he set off. No longer following the path, Harry had a little difficulty keeping up with the groundskeeper’s lengthy strides, but he did his best. Hagrid changed direction seemingly randomly a few times, but they kept finding patches of the blood, so Harry assumed they were on the right track. Harry found himself holding his cane tightly in his left hand and his wand in the other, he was sure Hagrid could handle whatever they came across but the warmth from his wand comforted him anyway.

They found the injured unicorn at the base of a small hillock; it lay panting furiously at the base of a wide tree with a small puddle of silver growing beneath it. Hagrid paused at the top of the hill for a moment, holding a massive hand out to stop Harry slipping down the steep slope. Harry took the brief respite to gasp in a few breaths, exhausted after jogging through the forest for what felt like hours.

“I can’t see what hurt it, but it could still be nearby Harry, so stay close to me, alrigh’?” Hagrid smiled as Harry nodded and helped him down the slope, one of his meaty hands on Harry’s shoulder and the other holding his lantern up high as they slowly approached the wounded creature. It was incredible, its magic a startling white and its horn a shining silver, but the puddle of blood that was forming beneath it was the most interesting part of it; as the blood pooled it changed in Harry’s sight. The shining silver was slowly dimming, tarnishing and dimming as it slowly turned a sickly grey. Hagrid leant down next to it, setting the lantern down beside him as he began to examine the creature, stroking its flanks as it let out a few pained whimpers.

Harry was so focussed on the unicorn that he almost missed the bolt of magic that suddenly appeared in his awareness from behind him, a roiling mass of crimson light that rocketed across the clearing before colliding with Hagrid’s back and knocking him forward with a burst of heat and light.

Harry staggered back from the force of the impact and turned in time to see the figure that had attacked them, and likely the unicorn, glide into his awareness. It was cloaked in a veil of shifting darkness, but Harry could see glimpses of the angry red magic that had struck Hagrid beneath the shadows and as it approached he staggered back a few steps before his feet hit Hagrid’s legs and he could retreat no further. He could hear some noises from behind him, the sound of the dirt shifting but he didn’t know if it was Hagrid or the unicorn and he realised he could not rely on his friend to protect him, in fact it would be down to him to protect the two of them.

As the wraith approached it seemed to suck in all the colour around it, turning the normally warm brown earth to a dull grey, the shadows that wreathed it swelling until it towered over them like a wave about to break. Harry froze for a moment, his wand still as he watched in horror as the shadow neared, his mind racing for something he could do to protect himself and Hagrid. Then he remembered the first chapter of the Defence Against the Dark Arts and a line that had stuck with him “most creatures of the dark fear and hate the light, for it reveals the truth of their curse, their nature, when in doubt a little light is rarely a bad thing” .

With that in mind, he changed the spell he was about to cast, forgoing his reliable barrier charm for a moment and instead casting his mind back Christmas day and the evening spent in front of the fireplace in the Copper Artifice. He brought up all the memories he had of the comfort of a warm fire on a cold day, the warmth of the sun on his skin in the summer, the burning pain of touching the hot poker his uncle had used to stir the fire when he was a child. He let them fill his mind until he could feel the heat on in his arms and when the nightmarish creature was barely a step away and all colour had bled from his vision, he raised his wand into the air with a flourish.

“Lumos Solem!” He cried.

Light. Colour. Pain burst through Harry’s head as magic thundered up his arm and into the forest. For a moment he had no choice but to let his awareness fade, darkness racing back to claim his surroundings as the pain in his head dulled. He heard a terrifying shriek of pain, the smell of burning filling his nostrils as he fell to his knees, his cane clattering beside him. He let his arm drop and pushed his awareness back out into the clearing, he was relieved to see colour had returned, though there was a heavy cloud of pale green magic covering the area. He sucked in deep lungsful of air, his whole body shaking as he noticed his sweat-soaked shirt sticking to his back. That was the most magic he had ever used at once, more than even the Testudo charm he had spent so long practicing.

As he gasped for breath, he was horrified to notice that the spectre had not been destroyed or scared off. No, it had been temporarily driven away, it was approaching again, this time faster as it swept across the clearing towards them with long clawed arms outstretched. The only difference Harry could see was that the worst of the shadows had been burned away from its form, revealing an unnaturally tall and thin humanoid figure blazing a furious red light as it soared towards them. Harry struggled to lift his wand but knew it was fruitless, he didn’t have the energy for a simple spell let alone his barrier spell. He sank back onto his knees as a final thought crossed his mind; what would they tell Petunia?

A roar of effort and a surprisingly gentle shove pushed him to the ground as the towering figure of the Hogwarts groundskeeper stepped past him and swung wide with a gleaming axe in his hand. The wraith spun in the air and flew back into the trees with a defeated howl of pain as the axe blade shone a deep blue, a beacon that drove the phantom away as it fled the clearing. Hagrid stood with the axe raised for a full minute, his head turning to look all around before he let the axe dim and his arm drop. He turned back to Harry and the injured unicorn with a sigh and knelt down to offer the young Ravenclaw a hand.

“You alrigh’ Harry?” He asked as he brushed the dirt and twigs from Harry’s legs with the back of his hand.

“I think so, are you? It hit you with a big spell Hagrid.” Harry reached down and collected his cane from the floor as he cast a quick look over Hagrid’s body for any wounds or blood, but there was nothing except a burnt patch on the back of the groundskeeper’s leather jerkin.

“Oh, don’t worry about tha’ Harry, I’ve got thick skin I’m fine.” Hagrid said waving off Harry’s concern as he knelt back down next to the unicorn. He lay the axe next to him as he pulled a long-curved needle and a ball of thread from his pocket and began to stitch the jagged wound on the creature’s neck closed. Harry studied the axe as Hagrid set to work on the unicorn, its blade shone a deep blue that matched Hagrid’s own magic but wrapped around the haft of the axe were purple symbols, a familiar magic. Castamir had worked on this weapon, whether to enchant it or bind a curse Harry didn’t know, he wished he could make some sense of the symbols that were branded into the wood, but they meant nothing to him.

He was distracted from his pondering as the unicorn clambered to its feet unsteadily and he watched as it dipped its head towards Hagrid before it turned and cantered away, disappearing between the trees as it sped away. Harry was relieved that they had been able to save the creature but couldn’t deny that he was eager to leave the forest now that their job was done.

“You done well there Harry, not sure what spell that was but it was damn bright. I’ll be sure to tell Pr’fessor Flitwick, you should be proud of yerself.” Hagrid clapped Harry on the back as he tucked the axe back into his belt, covering the blade with its leather hood before he picked up the lantern and began to lead Harry back out of the forest.

By the time they stepped out from the shadow of the last trees on the edge of the forest, Harry was exhausted, Hagrid offered him a cup of tea while they waited for Filch to come collect him, so they made their way to Hagrid’s hut. Sat outside the door was Fang who leapt up at the two of them when they rounded the side of the building, for a moment Harry was worried the three other boys were still in the forest but Hagrid settled his fears as he opened his door and hung his kettle over the fire.

“The Malfoy boy and the other two are already back up at the castle Harry, Fang might be a coward, but he would have come and found me if something had gone wrong.” Harry took a seat on one of the wooden chairs and let out a sigh of relief, he might not like the blonde bully, but he didn’t want him to be attacked in the forest. Well, maybe by an Imp, but they mostly just play tricks on people anyway so Malfoy would deserve it. Hagrid poured the both of them a cup of tea, Harry’s cup being considerable smaller than the groundskeeper’s oversized teacup, and the two of them waited together for the grumpy caretaker to collect him.

“… and then Mr Filch led me back to the castle and I went to bed. That pretty much brings us up to now.” Harry said as he leaned back in his chair, he had done his best to downplay the worst of the night. He didn’t think he knew the words to accurately describe the creature that had attacked him and Hagrid anyway.

“Wow…do you reckon it was a vampire?” Terry asked as Neville paled even further.

“A vampire?! No, there’s no way one could get this close to the school, right?” Neville asked, his eyes darting to the corners of the room they were in as if a vampire was about to come bursting out of the shadows.

“I’m not sure Nev, I haven’t read much about them, Professor Quirrell sort of skipped them when he went over all the common magical creatures we might come across.” Harry replied, not voicing the rumour that had circled the school since the beginning of the year.

“Yeah but we know why don’t we. Quirrell met a group of them on the road in Romania and now he’s terrified of them, I heard Jack, the fifth year with the big nose? Well he said that Quirrell’s turban is filled with garlic just in case one attacks him.” Terry explained before he noticed Neville’s terror and added quickly. “But I don’t think we have to worry about them being here at Hogwarts Nev, after all we have Dumbledore.”

“Anyway,” Harry interjected “I got a note this morning to speak with Professor Flitwick after dinner today, you think he’ll be angry with me for getting a detention?” Harry was rather worried, he didn’t want to disappoint the charms master, not after all the help he had given him.

“Nah, your Flitwick’s favourite Harry, besides you were just returning stolen property, if it was a note from Snape then I’d be worried for you.” Terry patted Harry’s arm as Neville gave a tiny shudder at the mention of the potion’s teacher, he still found the dark-haired man terrifying despite his slowly improving grades in that class thanks to his revision with Terry and Hermione.

Harry couldn’t help the grin at the thought, the potions professor tended to ignore him for the most part, but he did have a definite disdain for all students who didn’t wear the green badge of Slytherin. He dreaded to think of the punishment Professor Snape would have given him for the altercation with Malfoy, luckily he was distracted by the sudden approach of Susan and Hannah as they rounded the corner of the bookshelf they were sat behind.

“Harry! Tell me you didn’t go off into the Forbidden Forest and fight off a vampire last night?” Susan asked as she dropped her bag on the table beside him and stared intensely at him as Neville whimpered quietly at the mention of vampires again.

“It’s not like I went out there on my own, I told you I had detention, I was with Hagrid and it was fine.” Harry did his best to placate the angry Hufflepuff, who did seem to calm minutely before Terry ruined his efforts.

“Yeah but only because you managed to fend off a demonic vampire thing when it knocked out Hagrid.” Terry exclaimed excitedly, though he very quickly deflated when Harry sighed, and Susan began a barrage of questions. Only once Harry had finally managed to calm the angry Hufflepuff, though he was strangely touched that she was so upset on his behalf, and deflected most of her ire towards Malfoy who he put the bulk of the blame on, did he turn back to Terry.

“Thanks for that Terry.” He muttered to the other Ravenclaw who just grinned back at him, he stopped grinning when Neville pointed out a strange aroma in the air and both Hufflepuff girls turned to glower at Terry, clearly the Gobstones incident was not forgotten.

“..and you didn’t recognise the creature?” Professor Flitwick asked as he scribbled a note onto a piece of parchment on his desk.

“Not really, I don’t think it was anything we covered in Defence Against the Dark Arts at least…” Harry hesitated and wondered if he should raise Terry’s suggestion. “Terry did suggest it might have been a vampire, sir? We haven’t learned about them yet so I don’t know that I would recognise one, but it had the same, or at least very similar magic to whatever cursed the bludger.”

Professor Flitwick paused in his writing for a moment before he lay his quill down and leaned back to look at Harry.

“A vampire? It’s not impossible, indeed your use of the Sunlight charm to repel it supports young Mr Boot’s theory, but vampires cannot use magic, at least not in the same way wizards can. A vampire’s magic is almost entirely used to fuel themselves, to maintain their state of undeath, most vampires are only a little stronger and faster than a normal human. But yes, the older vampires, those who have consumed enough energy and lifeblood do gain greater power and some reports bear similarity to what you faced in the forest.” Flitwick bowed his head for a moment before he shook it and turned his gaze back to Harry who sat nervously. “I will raise this with the Headmaster, we will get to the bottom of it Harry. Now, I had already heard young Mr Malfoy’s version of events from Professor Snape, needless to say they differ greatly from your own Harry.”

Harry shrank in his chair, the charms professor’s tone was calm, but he still worried he had disappointed his head of house with his actions.

“However, I was able to speak with a few of the other students nearby and a portrait that witnessed the altercation, and I believe I have the truth of it. I am pleased you did not attempt to lie or downplay your actions Harry, and although I do wish you had avoided using your wand outside of class, I think that your detention was punishment enough.” Professor Flitwick finished with a smile and a chuckle at Harry’s relieved sigh. “I am not so old that I have forgotten what it was like to be a student Harry, but I will warn you; it will not be long before the magic available to you and your fellow students could be used to seriously harm one another. There is a reason for the rule against magic in the corridors Harry.”

Seeing Harry nod in understanding, Professor Flitwick clapped his hands and smiled, dispelling the slightly dour atmosphere that had settled in the room.

“Well I don’t want to keep you from dinner and I’m sure your friends are eager to have you returned to them, so I will let you go.” Harry nodded and picked up his bag as he made his way to the door and waved goodbye to the professor. He began to make his way in the direction of the staircase and the great hall below, already smelling hints of the delicious food on offer.

The third-floor corridor was empty. Torches sat cold on the walls and shadows stretched along the stone floor, veiling the walls in darkness. It was into this darkness that the Headmaster walked, torches flaring into life as he passed them, flickering light banishing the shadows from the hallway. He stopped in front of one of the doors, seemingly at random and peered over his half-moon spectacles at the plain wood. He seemed satisfied after a few moments and turned just in time to see the charms professor step from the moving staircase and make his way towards the aged transfiguration master. The Ravenclaw Head spent a moment weaving his wand across the space behind him, a faint haze appearing in the air, before he nodded to the Headmaster.

“We won’t be overheard, though I’m not sure why you wanted to talk here Albus.” Flitwick jutted his chin at the door they were stood outside. “I take it the protections are undisturbed?”

“Oh indeed Filius, I did not doubt your work, merely wanted to see it for myself. I believe with the combined efforts of the staff we may have inadvertently made the most secure room in all Europe.” Dumbledore smiled at the frown on Flitwick’s face. “Well, perhaps not so inadvertently. Now, I spoke with Hagrid and he affirmed your suspicions, and his description along with Mr Potter’s does lend some credence to the theory of it being a vampire. Which is why I asked our resident expert to join us.” They both turned to see the purple turban wearing defence professor shuffling up the stairs before he made his way towards them, passing through the haze of magic Flitwick had put up without disturbing it.

“He-hello Prof-professor D-d-dumbledore and P-professor Fl-flitwick, I ca-came str-str-straight here, is th-the st-stone se-se-safe?” Professor Quirrell stuttered through the greeting as his eyes nervously darted around the corridor, his already pale skin had grown ever paler since the Winter break and now he looked truly sickly, blue veins visible on his face and hands and a nearly perpetual trembling to his body. He had seemed to improve briefly but as rumours of vampires in the forest spread throughout the school, the signs returned. The Defence professor was terrified.

“Ah Quirinus, I am pleased you received my note, do not fret the stone is fine. No, I wanted your expert opinion on something. There have been rumours of a vampire in the forest, Hagrid himself encountered a creature that fits the vague description. I just wondered if you might have some insight?” Professor Dumbledore asked curiously.

Quirrell’s already pale visage only grew more waxen with each word and his trembling grew more pronounced, a sheen of sweet beginning to form across his forehead.

“Ah, we-well as y-you kn-know I d-d-did ha-have an en-encounter with a v-v-v-vampire in Al-albania, b-but m-most vam-vampires w-would avoid th-the area o-out of f-fear o-of y-you, H-headmaster.” Quirrell managed to stammer out.

“The younger ones maybe, but this would be an older vampire, capable of flight and some manipulation of magic.” Flitwick interjected as he studied the defence professor with a concerned eye.

“Indeed, and the vampire you encountered was just such a creature, was it not Quirinus?” Dumbledore peered over his glasses at the now swaying professor.

“A-an el-elder v-v-vampire?” There was an audible gulp from the young professor who sagged and began to weep. “O-oh n-no, H-headmaster y-you h-have t-to h-help m-me, p-please!” Quirrell begged as he looked around even more worriedly, as if the creature would burst from the shadows at any moment to claim him. The young defence professor slumped against the wall next to the door, eyes darting nervously as he sobbed.

“Now now Quirinus, I will handle the vampire if that is truly what is hunting in the forest, calm yourself.” The headmaster consoled the young professor who eventually calmed enough to hiccup out a thanks as he all but fled the corridor, rushing to his own quarters.

Only once the young man’s hurried footsteps had quietened enough that Flitwick was sure he was gone, did he turn back to the Headmaster who was still looking at the spot the defence professor had stood.
“Albus, I am still not sure it was a vampire. Any vampire powerful enough to breach the wards without being detected would have been more than a match for Hagrid and a first year, and why would it hunt a unicorn? It’s blood would provide no sustenance and would certainly not be worth the curse.” Flitwick expressed his doubts to the bearded headmaster who simply nodded absently as he continued to stare for a long moment before turning his attention back to the charms master.

“I too have my doubts Filius, there are too many missing pieces, too many coincidences. But if there is an elder vampire in the forest then I cannot do nothing, Severus suspects Quirinus, perhaps he has been threatened by this creature to retrieve the stone? We must watch and wait, I am satisfied that there is no way for anyone to access the stone now, at least not without alerting myself and most of the staff.” Dumbledore began to walk back towards the staircase, torches dimming and extinguishing as he passed them leaving the charms professor little choice but to follow.

“Albus, how much longer will it be remaining here? You swore it would be a few months, it’s been eight and we still don’t know who let the damn Troll in.” Professor Flitwick sighed as they reached the top of the stairs and looked down to see a handful of students chatting as they made their way towards the hall for dinner. “That damn stone attracts danger like gold to a niffler. We both know that magic like that cannot be hidden for long, eventually whoever attacked the Flamel’s will track it here, if they haven’t already.”

“I know Filius, and you have my word that the stone will be gone before the end of the school year. I could not turn away Nicolas, I owe him a great deal, but you are right, a school is no place for his stone. Now, I will investigate the forest, before I receive yet another letter from Cornelius about the Greyback issue.” The Headmaster began to make his way down the steps before he paused and turned back to the charms professor. “Did Mr Potter mention if he felt any pain or discomfort around his scar when he encountered the creature in the forest?”

“No, not that he told me about at least, why Albus?” Flitwick asked as he frowned down at the tall wizard who shook his head with a smile.

“Ah just a theory, I am likely wrong. Goodnight Filius.” And with that the Headmaster vanished, disappearing silently midstep down the stairs, leaving Professor Flitwick to make his way back to his office, grumbling as he did about theatrical old wizards.

Neither wizard returned to the corridor, if they had they might have noticed a faint mark on the wall next to the door where the defence professor had leant in his panic. A symbol that glowed a dull red as it burned deeply into the stone wall, lines branching from it towards the door like stretching roots from a plant. It took most of the night before the dull red lines had surrounded the door, but once they did, they settled, darkening until they were barely visible, just ordinary cracks in a stone wall.

A/N Hey everyone! Slightly shorter chapter this time, but we are now coming up to the end of the first year. Thank you to everyone who has favourited and reviewed, over 200 favourites and 300 followers is unbelievable so thank you all! I will be trying to continue with one chapter every two weeks or so, but there won’t be a set day because I have to work around my job.

Now, I have a question for you all. Would you prefer I continue with the second year in the same story here, or release each year as its own story? Let me know what you think, I’m uncertain so it will really come down to how many people vote for what.

As always, please review and follow. Let me know what you like, don’t like, love or hate. I always enjoy reading your feedback and I do try to reply to all reviews in PM so check your inboxes!

Many thanks,

Daedalus Smythe

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

Soon spring turned to summer. There was a marked shift in the atmosphere of the school after Easter, with the upper years all focusing on their upcoming exams and the lower years starting to cover the more advanced subject matter. In transfiguration they began to work on very basic animate-to-inanimate transformations, beetles to buttons and back again. In charms they were began to cover animation charms, spells that were meant to give some level of movement and a set task to an object, it was rather fun to watch a teacup bounce and spin across a desk though there were a few breakages. Potions didn’t seem to change all that much, though they were given more essays to write on various ingredients that they used, it was interesting to learn how they could produce such varied effects.

It was a busy time and Harry and his friends ended up spending much of their time in the library, only visiting their practice room on the weekends when they had a few hours to spare. But, in spite of the amount of work they were being piled with, Harry was happy. He had received a letter from Petunia wishing him luck with his exams, he and his friends were all doing well, Neville had progressed in leaps and bounds and was now one of the best in his charms class. He even found time to visit Hagrid for tea every few weeks, enjoying the time spent with the gentle giant of a man. He learned many odd but useful things while he sat in the hut with Hagrid, he learned that Bowtruckles were surprisingly mischievous and could be vicious, but a handful of woodlice would befriend one instantly. He learned that Cerberus were dangerous protectors resistant to almost all magic, but they could be lulled to sleep by certain melodies. He learned that Thestrals were strange horse-like creatures with enormous leathery wings, they could only be seen by those who had witnessed death and understood it, they were carnivorous and often seen as ill omens but were friendly as long as you were respectful and had excellent senses of direction.

By the time the end of year exams arrived, Harry felt quietly confident that he and his friends should be able to pass them with little worry. Although he and Terry did have to spend an afternoon calming Neville down, Hermione, who rarely joined them in the library any more having found friends in Padma and Sue Li, had gotten him terrified with her bizarre theory that the exams would cover spells and information that wasn’t touched on until second year. Only once they had pointed out that it made no sense for the thirteenth time did Neville relax, and they were able to go back to practicing the spells they were more likely to be tested on.

The first few exams were all written papers. Harry was allowed to use his enchanted quill from Castamir, but as he had to dictate to it he was sat in a corner of the room alone with a spell to muffle all sound placed around him, it was a little odd and the magic was distracting at first but he was able to ignore it eventually. He left the first exams feeling he had done his best, though he was sure he had gotten a few dates wrong for the History paper and he didn’t think he had listed all the moons of Jupiter correctly, but he wasn’t expecting perfection anyway.

The Potions paper was more difficult, though Harry did find himself grateful for all the essays Professor Snape had set as he began to list the various effects that porcupine quills could have in a potion and how they were affected by temperature. Transfiguration was much the same, though with more questions on wand motions and what spell he would use to accomplish a desired effect. Defence was very odd, there were questions on how to defend or deter various creatures such as Trolls and Imps, but then there were questions on what spells he would use against a wizard attacking him with spells he didn’t recognise. Luckily, he had read about a variety of shield spells, even if he had only learned to cast two of them, so he detailed how to cast each and hoped that would do. The final question was interesting though, “What foe would you most fear facing?” It was certainly a stumper, he was tempted to write a vampire when he thought of the events in the forest, but decided to go with a Dragon, from what he had read it took teams of wizards to calm and corral them, so it seemed like an acceptable answer.

The Charms exam was a relief, he breezed through the questions with ease and had enough time to go back and add more details to some of his answers before the paper was collected. Then came the practical exams, one by one they were called into a room with the professor and then ten minutes later they would walk out, some happy and others on the brink of tears.

Transfiguration was first for him, and he made his way into the classroom feeling quite nervous, finding it empty except for Professor McGonagall and a table with various objects placed upon it.

“Hello Mr Potter, now take a moment, and when you are ready, please transfigure this matchstick into a needle.” McGonagall gestured to the match sitting innocently on one side of the table. For a few seconds Harry froze, doubt creeping into his mind, but as he drew his wand his instinctive breathing set in, slow and deep as he felt his magic flow around his body. Warm and comforting. With a smile he pointed his wand at the table and focussed, remembering the three pillars of magic he had come to believe in. Imagination. Intent. Will. He pictured the change, he willed it to happen as he spoke the words.

“Mutatio Acus.”

There was a faint ripple and then a shudder seemed to run along the matchstick as it twisted, changing, until there now sat a nearly perfect metal needle.

After that his wand moved with confidence as he turned another match into a piece of string and then a candle, ( he thought he might have impressed Professor McGonagall when he managed to transfigure the candle to be lit when he did so, but she didn’t say anything) then it was onto a button into a beetle and back and finally a hedgehog into a pincushion. Once he was finished he was asked to leave and although she didn’t say anything, he did see her nod happily as he was leaving so he thought he couldn’t have done too poorly.

His Charms practical was great fun, after demonstrating that he could perform all the basic charms like levitating and creating sparks and colours, Professor Flitwick had given him a challenge.

“Excellent, now Harry we don’t usually offer this for first years but, if you feel you have something to impress me with, I can offer you the chance to perform a charm of your choosing, anything you like. So, take a minute to choose a spell and let me know when you are ready.” Professor Flitwick offered as he tapped the pineapple that was still dancing a merry jig on his desk causing it to freeze back into place.

Harry was a bit stumped as to what to demonstrate, he could try the Testudo charm again, but he didn’t think he had improved it much since the last time the Professor had seen it. There were the spells he had practiced from the Elemental Magic book he had gotten for Christmas, but his control of most of them wasn’t great and he didn’t want to risk damaging anything. The last time he had tried one of them he had set fire to a chair, it had actually led him to learning a spell for stopping fires quickly. That thought triggered a spark in his mind as he considered it. It wasn’t the flashiest of spells, it didn’t really do anything obvious when you first saw it, but it was definitely difficult. When Jeremy had seen him practice it on the fireplace in the common room he had been amazed, although maybe the kind prefect had been exaggerating now that he thought back on it. Either way, aside from the Testudo charm it was probably the spell he had spent the most time practicing, it wasn’t as tiring as the barrier charm, but it took all his focus, any distraction and it would fail, sometimes quite loudly.

He shook his head as he decided on it, he didn’t have anything else that he could think of to impress the Professor with so he would just have to hope this did it. With a few deep breaths he gestured with his wand at the air in front of him and began to make slow circles with the wand tip.

“Inanis Auram.” He whispered and he watched as a faint ripple in the air formed in front of him. About a foot across, a patch of air in front of him had formed a sort of haze. He risked a glance up at the Professor as he struggled to hold the form of the spell in his mind, he could feel the weight of the air pressing down on him but it was worth it for the broad smile he saw on Professor Flitwick’s face.

“Oho very good Harry, very good! Do you mind if I test it? I don’t doubt you but its best to do these things by the book as it were.” The professor asked and, at Harry’s hesitant nod, he pointed his wand at the air before a sudden tongue of flame spat across the room. The flame roared out, the heat bursting forward before it reached the area of Harry’s spell and was torn apart. The fire struck the edge of his spell and split apart, unable to touch the vacuum Harry was holding in place. Professor Flitwick stopped the spell and Harry let his own slowly collapse, knowing from experience that if he let his control drop too quickly it would create a thunderclap and nearly deafen him and anyone else nearby. The ringing in his ears had taken days to completely go away.

Once the spell had completely faded, Harry sank into a nearby chair and tucked his wand away, he was pleased with his performance and thought he should do pretty well. That spell wasn’t actually on the curriculum, but Jeremy had tried it and told him that it would likely be considered a third-year spell just for the difficulty of holding it for any real length of time, that and the concept was a little beyond most eleven-year-olds. Harry had only been able to understand the wording because of his muggle science lessons.

“That was very good Harry, an excellent choice of spell. It might not be as taxing as the Testudo charm, but the level of control needed is very impressive, especially for a first year. Well done Harry, now I can’t reveal grades yet but I don’t think you need to worry about this one at least. Your parents would be very proud Harry.” Professor Flitwick let him sit and rest for a few moments before sending him out to let the next student in.

Harry couldn’t help the proud smile on his face after that, the mention of his parents was still something he struggled with on occasion, but he was pleased at the thought that they would be proud of his efforts.

It was the day before the defence exam when Harry was given a note by a fourth-year Ravenclaw telling him to meet Professor Quirrell outside the defence classroom at six pm that evening. Harry had shown Terry the note as they made their way back to the common room after dinner and Terry had made the suggestion that it was for the practical exam. Not wanting to be late, Harry set off with his bag and made his way to the defence classroom, he went to knock on the door but it opened suddenly as his fist approached to reveal the form of Professor Snape. Professor Quirrell was behind him and was rubbing his arm as he greeted Harry past the dour Potions professor.

“Ah h-hello M-Mr P-P-Potter, Pr-pr-professor Snape w-was j-just g-giving me s-some ad-advice f-for the t-t-test to-tomorrow.” Quirrell smiled weakly as Professor Snape sneered at him before sweeping past Harry in silence and stalking down the corridor.

“Hello Professor, I got your note, thank you for writing it in Braille, I still don’t have the translation charm down yet.” Harry stepped into the classroom, tapping his cane ahead of him in case there was an uneven flagstone he might trip on.

“N-not t-to w-worry Mr Potter, I h-heard f-from P-professor F-flitwick th-that y-you mi-might be in-interested in h-hi-higher gr-grade te-testing?” Professor Quirrell asked as he made his way to his desk and tapped one of the drawers with his wand, before it opened, and he pulled a small pouch from within. The clinking of glass that leaked from the small bag gave some clue as to its contents, but the professor just tucked it into his robe pocket and looked up to Harry who realised that he hadn’t actually answered so he nodded quickly.

“Ex-ex-excellent, I ha-have ar-arranged a li-little ob-obstacle c-c-course of s-sorts, f-f-follow me.” Professor Quirrell strode from the room and led Harry on a winding route, they passed several dusty and disused classrooms and at one point reached a dead end before Quirrell lifted a slightly frayed tapestry hanging from the wall to reveal a hidden passageway with stairs leading up higher into the castle.

Harry did his best to keep up with the professor, almost tripping on the uneven steps a few times before he stepped out of a doorway that swung closed to reveal a painting of a bearded wizard with a bird of some kind on his shoulder who wished him a hushed “good luck” for some reason.

Eventually they stopped outside a simple door in a very dark corridor, the dark didn’t bother Harry too much, but he was surprised the professor hadn’t lit one of the wall sconces or his wand. Then again as he inspected the defence professor’s magic, he realised perhaps it was for the best that he didn’t use any spells, his pale-yellow magic had grown dull, a dark stain seemed to be leaking from his head down into his torso. There were rumours that the young professor had been attacked by a vampire on his travels, considering how sickly he seemed and the oddity of his magic, Harry was now more inclined to believe the story.

He was disrupted from his thoughts when Professor Quirrell let out a hacking cough and he began to reach out to offer help to him when he suddenly straightened and turned to face Harry.

“N-now Mr Potter, i-inside t-this d-door is a s-series of ch-challenges, o-obstacles yo-you must o-overcome. I w-will f-follow be-behind y-you t-to make su-sure you are unhurt. Y-you ma-may u-use an-any sp-spell you de-deem a-ap-appropriate.” Professor Quirrell gestured towards the door beside him and then stepped back to lean against the wall.

Harry wondered for a moment if he should suggest they postpone the test until Professor Quirrell had seen the nurse, but the professor seemed to be breathing more easily the longer he stood there and he supposed he could always suggest it after the test.

He turned is attention towards the door and examined it in his sight. There were strands of familiar silver-blue magic stretched across the surface of the door with more strange symbols floating along and between them, all circling a larger symbol in the middle of the door. A symbol that looked a little like a three tipped fork. He held in a sigh as he realised, he had no clue how to bypass whatever magic this was. Professor Flitwick was a master of charms, whatever he had cast on this door was well beyond him. He knew two spells for locks, one to unlock them and another which broke the lock, but he had nothing for a ward or enchantment or whatever this was.

He turned to Professor Quirrell with a frown.

“I’m sorry professor, but I have no idea how to get past whatever spell is on this door.” Harry did his best not to let his shame leak into his voice as he admitted his failure but was surprised when the defence professor just nodded and pressed his hand against the wall. There was a brief flash of yellow light that raced across the stone wall, splitting to surround the door in an arch before the magic on the door began to dim and fade. In only a few heartbeats the spell on the door disappeared leaving a seemingly ordinary wooden door.

“It i-is an i-important s-skill to know w-when you are out of your depth.” Professor Quirrell informed him before he gestured back towards the door.

With a sigh of relief, Harry tried the handle of the door and found it to be unlocked, so with a gentle push he opened it to reveal a fairly small room. Only forty or so feet deep, the room was much taller than it was wide. But it needed to be, to fit the enormous beast that was sat growling at the now open door. It was immense, an oversized canine body covered in black fur, three heavy leather collars wrapped around three huge necks that connected to three angry looking heads. A distant part of Harry’s mind wondered how they had fit such a large beast through a normal sized door, but it was quickly drowned out when the Cerberus began to growl. A deep, primal sound, the growl shook the stone beneath Harry’s feet and he couldn’t help the small shiver that ran down his back at the sound. He could feel the hairs on his arms rising up as he took a very small step backwards.

The beast climbed onto its enormous paws and stood, leaning towards him, though he was grateful when it suddenly stopped and he heard the sound of chains being pulled on. He took a few deep breaths as he heard the professor step into the doorway behind him and the reminder that this was a test helped him to recover some of his wits as he gripped his cane tightly.

Now that he knew the Cerberus couldn’t reach him as long as he didn’t step any closer, he took a moment to examine it. It had an interesting colour in his sight, his Fulgomancy showing him the magic that flowed through its body. It had a deep brown magic, almost black, but speckled across its body were dashes of deep blue, very similar to the threads that ran through Hagrid’s magic. The reminder of Hagrid almost made him laugh as he realised he knew exactly how to get past this creature, though perhaps not in the way Professor Quirrell was expecting.

He wet his lips nervously before he pursed them and let out a tuneless whistle. One of the enormous heads of the Cerberus cocked at the noise, the growl quieting ever so slightly. With a grin, Harry let out another whistle, but this time he did his best to create a specific tune that Hagrid had taught him, though Hagrid had been using an oversized flute to do so. As he recreated the tune, an old lullaby according to Hagrid, he was relieved to note that all three heads were now following his tune, nodding along as they slowly lowered to the ground. It only took three repetitions before deep rumbling snores filled the room.

Harry turned to face Professor Quirrell and was surprised to see a lock of shock and something else on his face before the defence professor shook his head and did a slow silent clap for him. It might have been a little patronising, but Harry didn’t want to annoy the professor, so he just smiled and began to walk back towards the door. He was stopped when the door swung closed silently and he turned to see the professor had moved to the middle of the room and opened a trapdoor in the floor beside one of the paws of the Cerberus. The professor pointed down at the opening and stood beside the hatch waiting.

Right, multiple obstacles. Harry made his way over to the open hatch and peered over the edge into darkness. He could make out stone walls with his sight but the bottom of the drop was beyond his awareness. He was about to try and mime a question to the professor about how far down it was when he felt a sudden pressure on his back. He had no time to grab for a ledge before he was falling, his robes flapping around him as he plummeted. Then he landed on something soft, if a little damp. His cane had landed a few feet away but as he reached to grab it, a tendril wrapped around his arm, dragging it down. Dread set in as he realised the soft landing had been provided by Devil’s Snare. This plant was known to trap and constrict any creature that landed in it, killing it to feed its roots. He struggled to reach for his holster, grasping his wand by his fingertips as he fought against the vines that were wrapped around him and doing their best to crush him.

“Lumos Solem.” He incanted as bright warm light burst from his wand, basking the dark green vines around him in the light they so hated. The effect was immediate as the vines and tendrils all darted back to the edges of the room, squirming against the stone walls in their efforts to escape the light. With a silent thanks to Neville for his help with Herbology, Harry walked over to where his cane had fallen and looked around.

“W-well d-done Mr P-potter, P-professor Flitwick was r-right about you it seems.” Professor Quirrell said as he floated down on a thin disc of magic. “S-s-sorry f-for t-the p-push b-but the C-cerberus w-was w-w-waking up.” As if it heard them, a cacophony of barks echoed down from above.

Harry frowned but after thinking of it for a moment, decided that a soft landing on Devil’s Snare was preferable to being bitten by an angry Cerberus. He nodded to the professor and turned to the only door in the small room. He walked up to the door, having figured out the format of the obstacle course now, and after checking for any magic on the door, pushed it open.

The next room was large, there was a door on the other side of the room that had a large heavy brass lock on it and fluttering above them were dozens of winged keys, some were too large to fit any normal lock, others seemed far too small, but all flew above them in a lazy circuit.

There was also a broomstick hovering in the middle of the room, but Harry’s experience on a broom hadn’t filled him with confidence and he didn’t particularly want to fly up into the cloud of metal keys. He could see that, like the first door, the keys all had Professor Flitwick’s familiar blue and silver magic filling them.

Professor Quirrell had moved to stand beside the next door and was silently watching. Not wanting to disappoint Professor Quirrell or Professor Flitwick who had obviously helped set the obstacle course up, Harry struggled to think of a way to get through the door. Deciding to treat it like one of his self-set challenges, he did his best to think of any method to get through the door. The obvious was to fly up and grab whichever key looked right, but he kept thinking.

He could try breaking the lock, but it would likely be warded to prevent that. He could levitate or animate the correct key, try to send it towards him or the lock. He could draw all the keys towards the floor, but he only knew one spell that could do that, and he definitely wouldn’t be able to catch all the keys in it.

He tried the idea least likely to work but easiest to test first, walking over to the lock and casting the old thief’s spell he had found. It had been an old book in the braille section of the library, originally written by a French criminal, the spell didn’t unlock doors but broke the locking mechanism within them. It was easy to prevent if you wanted to but because of this it had fallen out of use, in fact he hadn’t been able to find the same spell in any other book he looked in. Though there weren’t any other books by obvious criminals that he could find in his brief search anyway.

“Confractus.”

Crack.

He couldn’t believe it. He pushed gently on the door and it swung open with a creak, broken pieces of metal falling from side of it as it stopped. With a smile and a brief look at Professor Quirrell, who now looked annoyed (perhaps at Professor Flitwick for not putting an impenetrable ward on the lock?), he stepped through the now open doorway.

Professor Quirrell stepped through behind him, closing the door and then watching him silently as he examined the next obstacle. Harry was starting to enjoy this; it was just puzzle solving and he had always enjoyed riddles and puzzles. Maybe that was why he’d ended up in Ravenclaw with its riddling eagle guardian.

The next challenge was a giant-sized chess set. Each piece was twice as tall as he was and the board filled the floor between him and the next door. He could see the scarlet magic of Professor McGonagall on each stone piece and was surprised she was involved in the test. Then he was distracted by the wavering hemisphere of red magic that sat over the chessboard. It was very large, but what surprised him most was that the edge of it was constantly moving, one side would extend to cover all the way to the wall of the room on one side of the board, and the other side of the dome would retract to the edge of the board, and then they would shift, never stopping in one location for more than a second.

It reminded him of one of Percival Dearborn’s stories from the Christmas evening they had spent together. Ward boundaries could be moved or changed by talented warders and curse breakers, Percival was proud to say he was among those listed, and some warders had realised this. So, to try and prevent curse breakers from getting past their wards by lifting the boundaries or moving them, some warders would create constantly shifting ward boundaries. It was a clever strategy as most curse breakers needed a boundary to stay still and at least a few minutes to affect it, a moving one was much harder to deal with.

Or it would be, but Harry didn’t need to move the ward boundary. It was doing that for him, and his Fulgomancy meant he could see it move. It must have looked a little odd to see him just standing a few feet from the chessboard, unmoving just staring and occasionally whispering a count to himself.

He correctly counted the change to himself for the third time and decided that would be good enough. He moved to the left most edge of the chessboard and looked down towards the far wall. He waited a few seconds, counting in his head before he began walking down the edge of the board. He stopped when he counted thirty-three and pressed himself against the wall, breathing in and staying still as a wall of red magic rushed towards him. For a second, he thought he had counted wrong, but then the edge of the ward stopped a few centimetres from his nose, and he released a mental sigh as he kept counting.

As his mental count hit sixty-one, the wall of red magic began to slide away from him towards the front of the chessboard leaving him with a corridor about a foot wide between the wall and the ward. He started to sidestep along the wall, he was two thirds of the way now and it only took him another twenty seconds to reach the other end of the chessboard and relative safety.

He rushed to the door in case there was some other method to detect him and activate whatever the chessboard did, he wanted to avoid the rather wicked looking stone swords the pawns wielded if at all possible.

As soon as he touched the door, the red ward boundary that had been constantly rippling around the edge of the chessboard froze and then, with a little shudder, shrunk down until only it only encompassed the very middle of the board.

Harry didn’t bother to check if Professor Quirrell had followed before he opened the door and stepped through, eager to solve the next puzzle. This wasn’t Defence Against the Dark Arts; it was more akin to the stories Percival had regaled him with if anything.

Or it had been. The first thing that hit Harry as he stepped into the next room was the smell. A terrifyingly familiar smell, sweat and blood. It hit him like a wall and for a moment he had to check that he wasn’t back outside the girl’s bathroom with Neville. The next thing that tried to hit him was a large wooden club as it came arching down towards him from the enormous Troll that had been waiting for someone to step through the door.

Harry dived to his left, his cane slipping from his grip as he slid along the floor that was slick with various liquids, he did his best not to think about. In one corner of the room was another Troll, but this one was clearly dead, its stomach torn open, blood and organs spilled around it and the awful smell of rotten meat drifting from it.

Harry struggled to his feet as he slipped in the filth that coated the floor, he didn’t bother reaching for his cane as the still alive Troll lifted its club from the cracked stone floor. This Troll seemed taller than the one from Halloween, curving tusks jutting from its jaw, instead of a loincloth it wore some sort of animal pelts across its shoulders and waist. As it raised its club again, Harry’s attention darted to the door he had stepped through, but it had closed behind him and he didn’t know if Professor Quirrell would make it here in time to stop the Bull Troll, for that is what he realised it was. The ugly but far stronger and more violent cousin of the Mountain Troll.

Harry stepped back as the Troll swung again and raised his wand, he hadn’t had great success in controlling this spell, but he needed to do something before he ended up a smear on the wall. With a single inhale he focussed on the pillars of magic. He could certainly imagine what he wanted to create, and he definitely had the intent, the need to survive was strong in him, so all he needed was the will.

“Coronem Ignem!”

Tongues of emerald fire burst from his wand, spiralling from the wand tip until they circled him, a twisting roiling ring of blazing fire. The Bull Troll tried to swing its club through the flames, and if Harry had been using the bluebell charm like on Halloween all those months ago, it would have worked. But he had progressed a long way since that night, driven partly by this very fear. His will was strong.

The club struck the ring of fire and immediately caught ablaze, the flames racing up the wooden shaft hungrily, biting at the Troll’s grey fingers until it released the club with a shocked yell. Harry smiled as he pointed his wand at the now recoiling Troll, directing the ring of fire. The flames broke off and flowed across the space to encircle the Troll as it staggered back, raising its hands to try and fend off the fire as it swirled around it, tongues of it flicking towards its skin hungrily.

This was where Harry always struggled, controlling fire was difficult, it wanted to burn, to consume. Normally Harry could only hold the spell for a few seconds before the effort to control and direct the flames became too much, this was actually the reason he had learned the spell he had impressed Professor Flitwick with. But as he guided the flames to swirl around the Troll, pushing it back until it was cowering in the corner of the room, he found that it required little effort on his part. It was still a draining spell, he knew he couldn’t hold it for too much longer, but he was able to keep it up until he had reached the door to the next room. Only once he had opened the door behind him, did he let his arm drop as he hurriedly backed into the next room.

The Troll’s reaction to the flames flickering out was immediate and violent. It let out a guttural roar and raced in his direction. As he quickly closed the wooden door behind him, he was concerned for a moment as he wondered how a relatively normal looking door would hold up against an enormous angry Troll. The concerns vanished when there was a piercing sound, like nails being dragged along a chalkboard, or glass being scraped by metal. Then a loud heavy thud. Then silence.

Harry nearly fell over when the door opened suddenly, and Professor Quirrell stepped through calmly. His hand grasped absently at his side as he realised he had left his cane where it had dropped in the Troll room, but he was shaken from the strange feeling of loss when the Defence professor addressed him.

“W-well done Mr P-potter. Y-you d-did very well, you r-remembered the w-weakness of T-troll’s and used it to flee. A sensible approach.” Professor Quirrell stepped past Harry and over to a short plinth with a variety of bottles sat atop it and a small scrap of parchment laying next to them. “There is another way to deal with a Troll’s resistance and regeneration though that you might want to remember in case of future incidents. Sudden and overwhelming force. Something to think on.”

Harry did his best to catch his breath and stop his body from shaking as the terror of what he had just faced caught up to him, his hearing seemed to dull as he stepped unsteadily forward, and he missed part of what Quirrell said. He had nearly died. Again.

“-otter? Are you listening?” He shook his head to try and clear the fog from his mind before he turned his attention back to the Professor. Had he been a little less distracted, he might have noticed the fog wasn’t all in his mind. Instead, filling the room was a very gentle haze of magic, nearly invisible even to Harry’s sight, that was dulling his senses, slowing his mind. A potent potion, it was designed to seep into a target, through their lungs, their skin, and weaken them. Not physically, and not even all that much, but enough to make a difference. Harry would later learn that the potion was created by a distant ancestor of the Malfoy’s and was used against opponents, to give them an edge in duels.

“Sorry Professor, just a bit…shaken.” Harry muttered as he stepped up to the plinth, half a thought formed that perhaps he should go back for his cane, but it scattered as Professor Quirrell began to speak again.

“Good, now Professor S-snape came up with this as a test of your…logic I suppose. I will read the clue for you, and you must work out which potion will take us through the barrier ahead.” As the professor spoke Harry focussed his struggling mind and dragged his attention up from the floor to the doorway ahead. It took him a second to realise what “barrier” the professor was talking about, because there was a thin stretch of space between the plinth and the door that his sight couldn’t perceive. An undulating void that he couldn’t understand, it wasn’t black or dark, it was like what he usually felt at the edge of his awareness. It was emptiness. As soon as he thought the word, he felt sick. Whatever that was he didn’t want to touch it. He didn’t want to get any closer to it. In fact, he very much wanted to get away from it.

He took a staggering step backwards, and then a second before he felt a searing heat burning behind him. A wall of crimson fire, blazing bright in his sight had appeared between him and the door.

“Ah no no Harry, don’t give up now. You’ve been doing so well; you’ve far surpassed my hopes for you. Truly very impressive for your age, I can think of very few first years who could have done better.” Professor Quirrell gestured to the plinth as the fire behind Harry burned brighter for a moment, creeping across the stone floor as it inched closer to him. “Now, I will read out the clue for you, and you will have one guess to get it right. I won’t repeat myself so pay attention Harry.”

As the fire crept closer, the heat causing sweat to soak through the back of his shirt, Harry could only gape as the professor picked up the parchment and began to recite;

“Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,
One among us seven will let you move ahead,
Another will transport the drinker back instead,
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.
Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide
You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side;
Second, different are those who stand at either end,
But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.”

“Now think carefully, you have about a minute before that fire reaches you Plenty of time for a clever Ravenclaw like yourself.” Quirrell said as he stepped back and fell silent, watching Harry closely.

Harry thought frantically as he ran through the lines in his head, doing his best to ignore his awareness of the fire stealing ever closer. The largest bottle was clearly nettle wine, the other dose of wine was in the small round bottle, which meant two poisons were to the left of them, so the left most bottle must send you back and the smallest bottle would let you move forwards.

Without letting himself think about it, he quickly snatched the smallest vial, barely holding a thimbleful of a dark viscous liquid, and drank it down as he ran forwards into the curtain of emptiness that was between him and the door. He stepped through the emptiness and nearly fell as all awareness he had collapsed around him, darkness enshrouding him as blindness took hold again. And then he was through, his awareness bursting from him, filling the room and showing him that his next step would send him tumbling down a set of steep steps. He couldn’t stop his momentum, he had rushed to get through the barrier, and he fell. He did his best to cover his head and neck as he toppled down the hard stone stairs but still struck the back of his head on the floor as he came to a rolling stop.

He didn’t know how long he lay curled up at the base of the steps, it felt like seconds, but it could have been an hour. He sat up, his arms and legs aching from the punishment they had gone through and a sharp pain lancing through the back of his head, a probing touch from his hands revealed a warm sticky patch at the crown of his head where he must have struck one of the steps. Or all of them. It felt like all of them. As Harry lay there a thought began to emerge from the fog in his mind.

“Oh well done Harry, very good.” Quirrell stepped over and past Harry and strode closer to the middle of the room. “You know that’s the one I had the most trouble with? I spent hours analysing the barrier, and even longer examining the various bottles, expecting a trap. Severus was always very good at deception, and I spent so long looking for a trick that I almost missed the genius of the challenge; it was simple. It really was a straightforward riddle, get it right and you can pass through, get it wrong and … well anyway. Now Harry, you are so close. I really will have to thank Professor Flitwick; he was right to brag about your skills. The last challenge is this mirror, if you can retrieve a small stone from the mirror then you have done it!” Quirrell pointed at the large ornate mirror that was positioned in the middle of the room.

It was as tall as the professor, a great ornate thing. It glowed a soft gold in Harry’s sight, strands of magic drifting lazily at the front, stretching across the face of the mirror. For a moment Harry was tempted to step in front of it, but as he clambered to his feet, his right-hand clutching under his armpit, he focussed his attention back on the professor.

“Professor, I have a question?” He asked as stepped unsteadily to his left, doing his best to get closer to a pillar a few metres away. The room seemed to be some kind of old auditorium, with stairs and tiered rings all around the central circular space they were stood in.

“Very well, what is your question, Harry?” Quirrell asked, though his attention had almost entirely shifted to the mirror, his brows furrowed as he stared deeply into it.

“What happened to your stutter?” Harry asked as he finally reached the stone pillar and leaned against it, his whole body was telling him he should just lie back down, but he knew he couldn’t afford to let his concentration falter.

Quirrell started at Harry’s question, turning away from the mirror slowly as he looked back at the injured boy. Harry half expected him to deny it but instead the man let out a short bark of laughter, shaking his head as he did.

“Oops.” He said as he stopped laughing and looked at Harry with a grin. “That damn stutter, do you know how difficult it is to talk like that? Let alone for a whole year. I was half tempted to curse myself at Yule when I realised it was going to take so long to get in here.”

“But why? Why fake a stutter at all? Why did you want to get in here so badly?” Harry asked as he shifted his hand slightly, doing his best to hide it beneath his open robes as he wrapped his fingertips around his wand holster. He had little doubt that a Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts could destroy him without breaking a sweat, but he was still going to go down swinging if it came to it, maybe buying enough time for help to arrive.

“Ah well that is a long story, Harry. Involving murder, betrayal and acts of magic so great and awe inspiring that you wouldn’t be able to wrap your little head around them. My master succeeded in pushing the boundaries of life and death further than anyone else, so far that only his own magic could defeat him. But Harry with the Philosopher’s Stone he could return to his full power, and he could reward those who helped him. He could teach us long forgotten magic, how to bend the elements to our will.” Quirrell pointed a shaking hand at the mirror as he spoke. “All he needs is the stone Harry, and its in there, all you need to do is get it for him.”

As Quirrell stepped closer, Harry noticed something strange happening to the professor’s magic. Tendrils of dark red were bleeding into the professor’s pale yellow. Starting at the head, the crimson colour was spreading down and throughout Quirrell’s body, twisting and stretching as it spread down the professor’s chest before splitting, strands branching off to reach down the arms and legs. Quickly a strange skeleton of red magic settled inside the pale yellow of Quirrell’s normal magic. And then a voice rasped out, it filled the room, echoing, sourceless.

“I will speak with the boy. Now.”

The voice once again filled the room, louder now. Harry could feel the stone pillar tremble behind him, the floor rumbling slightly. The voice was cold, but a hint of anger had entered it at having to repeat its instruction and this time Quirrell had no choice as his hands reached up to his head, unwrapping the turban there.

Harry had to recoil as the first layer was unwound. The source of the crimson magic, which he now recognised as the same magic that had cursed the bludger so long ago, was revealed to be a face that protruded unnaturally from the back of Quirrell’s head.

The face was horrific. Like a terrible parody of a human face, the proportions were all wrong. A wide lipless mouth and elongated jaw filled with uneven teeth, some jutting awkwardly from the mouth as a too long tongue lolled within. There was no nose, just two violent gashes above the mouth that seemed to work as nostrils, flaring painfully as the face gasped in breath. The eyes were too small, not by much, but enough to be noticeable, and the bloody sclera meant it was hard to tell if the eyes were even functional. Though, Harry was hardly going to trust that, he was proof that you didn’t need eyes to see.

Strangely, the mouth didn’t move as the voice rang out again, loud and deep, each word filled his head, blotting out everything else until the next word sounded.

“Harry Potter. Do you know who I am?”

“You’re the one who cursed the bludger, and probably let the Troll in as well.” Harry said, mostly to stall as he thought furiously about who it could be. A powerful wizard, nearly died from his own magic. When he realised who fit the description, he couldn’t stop the word from escaping his lips.

“Voldemort.”

The face twisted, the mouth curling up at the corners into a terrible smile as Quirrell’s head was forced into an awkward nod. The pale-yellow magic was now almost entirely covered in tendrils of red, gripping and squeezing the mans magic and controlling his body like a puppet on strings.

“Yes. I am Lord Voldemort. You have been told things about me. About that night. They are lies.”

“So, you didn’t try to kill me and the curse rebounded?” Harry asked with a grimace as he felt pain thrum through his chest, something was definitely broken there.

“I will not insult your intelligence, Harry; I did intend to kill you that night. I offered to spare your parents, but they refused. Then I turned my wand on you, and then pain. Unbearable pain as my body was destroyed. I was reduced to this. A shadow, forced to survive by inhabiting the bodies of others. But with the stone I can regain my old power, I can correct my mistakes. I can bring your parents back Harry.”

There was a grinding sound as the mirror began to rotate until the face pointed in Harry’s direction, the golden streams of light stretching out, searching for something to latch onto. Now that it was turned, Harry could see that little motes of violet light drifted amongst the gold.

“Look into the mirror Harry. We both know you are not blind, but even if you were the mirror shows truth to all who stand before it. You do not need eyes to see it.”

The truth of that statement became clear when the golden magic suddenly surged towards Harry, wrapping around his chest and then sinking into him, touching his own green magic and causing his sight to falter. Darkness. And then light. He was in the same room, but it looked very different. Wall sconces filled the room with a warm light and the mirror was still there but now he could see it. Not through his Fulgomancy but with eyes. Whole, undamaged, working eyes.

It should have been strange, to have no awareness of what was around and behind him. His Fulgomancy worked like a combination of vision and touch, he could feel his surrounding just as much as he could visualise them. But in that moment, it felt normal to see with his eyes.

To see his family stood around him in the mirror’s reflection. His aunt smiling proudly with her arm hooked through a tall redheaded woman’s. His mother. Alive. And next to her, tall and handsome with wild black hair and round glasses was his father grinning at him, a hand hovering above his shoulder, so close he could almost feel it.

He felt a dampness on his face and saw that a few tears were dripping down his cheeks. He had never been able to cry before, his tear ducts damaged along with his eyes. As he looked at the reflection, more figures began to step into view. Professor Flitwick. Terry. Neville. Castamir. Susan. Hannah. Percival Dearborn. Alastor Moody. Hagrid.

Finally, a tall figure stepped into view, wearing robes open over a shirt and dark tinted glasses covering his eyes. One hand gripped a cane, not dissimilar from his own but covered in carved symbols. The other was gripped in a closed fist, with a silver signet on his ring finger. It took Harry a second to realise it was him. Or what he might look like in the future he supposed.

But how could this be the future if his parents were there? Did that mean Voldemort really could bring them back?

Even as he wondered this, he watched as Petunia reached out with her free hand and lifted it, revealing a small red stone. It looked like a piece of rough polished glass, almost ordinary really, but a faint light flickered in its depths, like the embers of a fire ready to burst back into life at any moment.

For a moment, the dream floated in his mind, he could reunite Petunia and his mother, his parents could join him, and they could all be a family together. Until a dark wizard came and murdered them. A Troll crushed them with its club. A bludger tore through them.

He shook his head sadly as the dream shattered, his parents smiling even more proudly at him as he wiped the tears from his face. He knew the truth. His parents were dead, they had been killed by Voldemort. But he still had family. He had friends. And he couldn’t risk them getting hurt again.

His aunt reached forward and tucked the stone into his reflection’s pocket in the mirror and he jolted slightly as he felt a weight settle in the same pocket of his robes.

“Enough.”

The vision was torn away at the word and his sight came rushing back. For a moment he missed the simplicity of normal vision as he pushed past dizziness at the sudden awareness of the room his Fulgomancy granted him.

“What did the mirror show you Harry? Do you know how to retrieve the stone?”

“I-it showed me my parents, my family.” Harry gasped out as he watched shadows from the edges of the room gathering around Quirrell, wreathing him in darkness.

“And the stone?!”

Harry shook his head as he reached his hand up towards his chest again, leaning over slightly as he tried to ignore the hot pain in his ribs on every inhale.

“You lie. He has the stone. Get it.”

The now almost entirely enshrouded figure of Professor Quirrell stormed towards Harry, arms outstretched to grab at him. With reactions born of many hours of practice, Harry whipped his wand from its holster and carved out a quick circle in the air as he cried out the incantation.

“Arx Murum!”

A bright dome of magic appeared around Harry just in time for Quirrell to strike the front of it, the impact sending ripples across the front of the barrier. Harry resisted the urge to sigh in relief, he had no doubts about his shield, he knew it was strong, but he also knew that Quirrell was a fully grown wizard. Even as Quirrell stepped back and examined the barrier he had conjured; Harry did his best to focus his entire mind on the shield. He took deep slow breaths, trying to ignore the pain they caused, as he repeated the technique Professor Flitwick had taught him back in Diagon Alley nearly a year before.

“Break the shield. He has the stone!”

The darkness swelled outside the translucent dome, building and growing until a burst of dark red light tore out of Quirrell’s wand and impacted with the shield. The sound was deafening as the spell crashed into the green barrier, cracks forming in the shield as it held. Just.

“Stop toying with the boy, break the shield!”

Harry ignored the voice that still tried to fill his mind, in his mind he held the form of the shield. Perfect, unblemished. His shield could stop anything. Would stop anything. He believed it with everything he had as he gripped his wand with both hands, pouring his magic into it.

Another burst of red light, followed by an orange spell and then a yellow one struck the shield. Each impact left behind more cracks, the front of the barrier weakening under the assault.

A final spell struck the barrier and with a sound like breaking glass, a large section of the front of the shield shattered. The spell that broke the shield dissipated with the impact, but it left a gaping hole in the barrier, more than wide enough for Quirrell to reach into and grab at Harry’s arm.

Burning pain filled Harry’s arm at the touch and he recoiled, his concentration breaking and the rest of the shield collapsing around him as he clutched at his arm.

“Argh! What was that? What did you do Potter?!” Quirrell demanded as he shook his own smoking hand.

Harry didn’t know what had happened but as Quirrell lunged for him again, he did all he could think of to fend him off. Pushing his own hands at the bigger man.

More burning pain, this time focussed on Harry’s hands, but the cries of pain that Quirrell let out gave Harry the desperate strength to keep going. He pushed his hands at every part of Quirrell he could reach, his face and chest, even his legs when the older man began to crawl away.

“M-master, it b-b-burns. H-help m-me!” Quirrell cried as his arm began to smoulder, his fingers crumbling to ash. The burning spread wherever Harry touched and as Harry’s adrenaline fuelled strength began to fade, he half lunged half collapsed next to Quirrell and watched as the professor’s body crumbled to burned ash.

As Harry lay on the cold stone, the last of his energy devoted to keeping himself awake, he could only observe in silent horror as the crimson magic of Voldemort gathered in the ashes of the body. The magic coalesced into a vaguely humanoid shape made of ash and shadow, parts of it crumbling away even as it staggered across to Harry and fell onto him, bits of the ash falling to fill his mouth and nostrils as he choked on the still smouldering remains of Quirrell.

“I am eternal Harry. You will never escape me. Never defeat me. I. Am. Lord Voldemort!”

The voice echoed through the chamber as Harry sputtered and coughed, choking and suffocating as he tried to claw at the ash that covered his face and chest, filling his mouth and throat.

Darkness encroached on his awareness, clawing back the space that his sight normally revealed to him. The last thing he was aware of was the sound of distant hurried footsteps, a shout of alarm and a flash of bright light before the shadows finally took his awareness and he fell into warm dark.

A/N – Hey everyone, wow this was a difficult one. Took me many attempts and many rewrites before I was happy with Voldemort and the whole scene, so please let me know if you think I got it right!

So a few things, this Voldemort is a monster. He is a true villain. This is a wizard who brought Britain to its knees with less than a hundred Death Eaters. Yes, he used “dark” creatures as well, but this is a man who has delved so deeply into dark magic that he is almost a dark creature himself, he is immensely powerful and has decades of knowledge at his disposal. I will not be writing him like JKR, this guy is smart, cunning, powerful and ruthless. Luckily Harry is smart too and he has a lot of friends and allies to help him.

Secondly, the general consensus was to keep posting on the same story so that’s what I’ll be doing.

Thirdly, WOW! The support for this story has been amazing, I have loved reading all the reviews and private messages about this. Almost all of them have been very supportive and even the criticisms have been helpful so thank you all very much!

Please continue to Follow, Favourite and Review, it means a great deal to know that my work is being enjoyed!

The next chapter will be in about two weeks, I am doing my best to stick to that schedule though I may take a little break between the School Years.

Many thanks,

Daedalus Smythe

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Harry was awoken from his slumber by a faint rustling, the noise rousing him from the comfortable darkness. It took him a moment to realise he wasn’t in his bed in the Ravenclaw dormitories, then the memories returned to him in a flood, his actions with Professor Quirrell… and Voldemort. He clenched his fists in frustration at being tricked so easily and let out a sharp inhale at the sudden pain as the linen bandages around his hands pressed against the tender skin.

The rustling stopped and as he pushed out his awareness, he realised the source of the noise had been the pages in a book turning, a book that was now being tucked into the pocket of the Headmaster who sat on a wooden stool at the foot of his bed. As Harry pushed himself up so that he was sitting he heard the quiet exhale and the brief widening of the aged professor’s eyes and with a quick swipe of his hand across his face, realised his glasses were missing and that the professor had seen his uncovered eyes.

Harry grimaced and picked up his glasses from where they were resting on the side table next to the bed, slipping them onto his face hurriedly as he took a moment to observe his surroundings. He was in the Hospital Wing, wearing loose pyjamas, his hands were bandaged as was his chest but, aside from some tenderness and an ache on the left side of his chest, he felt fine.

His attention was drawn back to the Headmaster when he noticed him shifting on his stool before with a tap of his wand, the plain wooden stool transformed into a comfortable looking armchair.

“Ah much better.” Professor Dumbledore smiled as he tucked his wand back up his sleeve and turned to face Harry from his spot near the end of the bed. “Good morning Harry, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine thanks Professor, but sir you need to know Professor Quirrell he’s- ” Harry began to blurt out as he realised that not only could he be in real trouble for what happened, but that if Voldemort wasn’t dead then he needed to tell someone.

“Ah I am aware of Professor Quirrell’s unfortunate demise, and rest assured you will not be punished for defending yourself. Now, I imagine you have many questions for me?” Harry nodded hesitantly. “Well, I will do my best to answer them, but first I must apologise Harry. I had believed that Quirinus was in league with a vampire or a similar being, and the enchantments on the Castle would have prevented the creature from stepping foot within the walls. Had I any inkling that Voldemort was involved I would have stepped in immediately, my last reports from Europe had his spirit in the forests of Albania up to a few months ago and I did not believe he would travel to Britain while still in such a weak form.” Dumbledore let loose a heavy sigh as his shoulders sagged and he shook his head before continuing. “I truly believed Quirinus was simply a thrall, there are wards over the castle that should have detected a spirit possessing him.”

Harry observed the seemingly apologetic older man before reaching over the bed and patting him on his robed shoulder in what he hoped was a consoling manner.

“It’s okay Professor, but does this mean that Voldemort didn’t get the stone? The last thing I remember is his … spirit covering me, trying to smother me in ash … in Professor Quirrell’s ashes- ” The moment the realisation of what had been forced into his mouth hit him, he couldn’t stop his body’s reaction. With a great heave he was sick over the side of the bed, bile splattering the floor as he coughed and shivered, he gripped the bedsheets tightly as he spat the last of the acrid tasting saliva from his mouth.

A shimmer of violet magic rippled out across the floor for a split second before it vanished, leaving clean stone behind it. Another ripple appeared around his face but before he could react it too vanished, happily taking the awful taste from his mouth.

“In answer to your question Harry, no Voldemort did not get the stone, you performed admirably in protecting it. I arrived just in time to witness Voldemort’s attempt to suffocate you and was able to repel him, unfortunately he fled before I could trap him.” Professor Dumbledore tucked his wand away again and poured a glass of water for Harry.

“Oh … so everything is okay then? What about the stone? What even is it, sir?” Harry asked as he took a sip of the water before gulping down half the glass of the refreshing liquid, his throat was still a little hoarse and the cool water was incredibly soothing.

“The Philosopher’s Stone? It is a very powerful magical artifact, created by my teacher Nicolas Flamel who is quite possibly the most impressive wizard I have ever met. The stone can do many things, it is the pinnacle of Alchemy, it can be used to transform metal into gold, not transfigure but truly transform, if you were to transfigure the gold made with the stone it would eventually revert to its true form of gold. It has a few other uses but the one that I am sure Voldemort wanted it for is perhaps its least interesting, it can create an elixir which extends the life of those who drink it, restoring them to near perfect health, at least physically. Normally, only the creator of the stone or those with their blood could use the elixir, but I am sure Voldemort had some way to get around that limitation, perhaps with the Unicorn blood…” For a moment the Headmaster seemed lost in thought before Harry gave a subtle cough and the bearded professor jolted and smiled at him. “Ah you must forgive me; I am at heart a scholar and often get distracted by theories. Regardless, the stone has been destroyed, Voldemort will not be able to return using it anymore.”

“What? But then your teacher, Mr Flamel, he’ll die, won’t he?” Harry asked.

“Nicolas is over 600 years old Harry, and his wife Perenelle is nearly as old, to them death is not a thing to fear. Besides, they have enough elixir stockpiled to settle their affairs, I doubt they shall pass on anytime soon. They likely have another decade or two, but they decided that the threat of Voldemort obtaining the stone was too great to risk.” Professor Dumbledore explained and Harry calmed at his words.

“You said Voldemort won’t be able to return anymore, does that mean he’s gone now? He won’t come back, sir?” Harry asked, though he had a terrible feeling he already knew the answer.

“I wish I could tell you otherwise Harry, but no. Voldemort will return eventually, though I believe he will require at least a year to recover from his failed efforts this time. But that is not something for you to worry about Harry, I have friends keeping watch for him in Europe. You must focus on your schooling for now.” The Headmaster smiled and although his words soothed Harry’s fears somewhat, he was still filled with questions.

“Professor, when Quirrell touched me he … it was like I was burning him. And if Voldemort was possessing him all year, why didn’t he try to steal the stone sooner? Or kill me sooner?” Harry asked as he fiddled with the now empty glass in his hand.

The Headmaster leaned back in his chair and sighed shortly before he answered. “I will do my best to answer your questions Harry, but I must admit some of this is only educated guesswork. However, if you will forgive my arrogance for a moment, most of my guesses do tend to turn out correct. So, Quirrell could not touch you because he was bound to Voldemort, and Voldemort cannot touch you because of the magic your parents, the magic your mother in particular, invoked the night she died. Her sacrifice left you with a mark, her love for you so powerful that Voldemort could not harm you, could not even touch you after that night.” Harry sniffed but was otherwise silent as the Headmaster explained what his mother had done for him. The sacrifice she had made to protect him. “As for your other questions, I believe Voldemort was afraid that it was a trap, that I had laid a trail of breadcrumbs to lead him here, to entrap him in his search for the stone. In truth I had believed that a … wariness of me and the lack of any tangible leads would prevent anyone from coming here in search of the stone.” Seeing Harry’s brief look of confusion, the professor elaborated. “The Philosopher’s Stone was a very powerful magical artifact, and it gave off a heavy trace, for those who know how and are properly aware, it was like a beacon of powerful magic that could be sensed from miles away. However, Hogwarts is also a powerful magical beacon in its own right, and our hope was that the stone’s magic would be covered by Hogwarts’. That combined with my own reputation and that of the staff, well I believed it would be enough of a deterrent for any that tracked the stone here. Clearly, I was wrong. As for the reason Voldemort did not act against you sooner, or even kill you immediately once he had you alone among the protections for the stone, well I believe he was, and still is, curious. He doesn’t know what happened that Halloween night and he wants to, he needs to before he can act against you. I believe even when Quirrell tried to take the stone from you, he was still under orders not to kill you. Only once Quirrell was destroyed did Voldemort’s wrath get the better of him, it has always been a weakness of his.”

Harry sat quietly thinking over all the information he had been given as the Headmaster reached down beside his seat, lifting and offering a familiar item to him. “Now, Hagrid found this in the Troll’s chamber and asked me to return it to you, it was luckily undamaged by the events of that night.” Harry’s couldn’t help the relieved smile as he took the offered cane and gripped the warm wood in his hands, he had honestly thought it lost, likely destroyed by the angered Troll. “Now you have had several well wishers and visitors who I am sure would love to see how you are doing so I shall leave you to your convalescence.” The Headmaster stood, tapping his chair with his wand as he did so to revert it back a plain wooden stool. “Oh, and I have spoken with your other professors who have agreed to give you a pass on the remaining practical exams you had left, though you will be given some extra work to do over the summer to ensure you haven’t fallen behind.”

Harry was fairly stunned by all the information he had been given and could do little but nod as the Headmaster walked away, soon replaced by the school nurse who examined his burns and had him drink several potions, none of which he recognised but all of which tasted different kinds of awful.

In the end he had to remain under Madam Pomfrey’s tender care for another two days before she was satisfied that he was fully recovered. He spent the majority of those days reading books that his friends had brought in for him when they visited, he had been surprised by how many people had come to see him while he had been recovering. He had expected his close friends to come, Neville and Terry, Susan and Hannah, but most of the other Ravenclaw first years had popped in at some point, even if only briefly, to wish him well.

Hagrid had dropped by soon after the Headmaster had left to check in on him, leaving him with a new whittling knife and a block of wood to work on in case he got bored. Madam Pomfrey confiscated the sharp implement as soon as she saw it, only returning it to him when he promised not to use it while his hands were still healing.

Harry learned from his friends that very little of what had happened with Professor Quirrell had been released to the school, only that the Professor had attacked a student and would no longer be teaching at the school. Though he did learn that some of the prefects had seen Aurors investigating the third-floor corridor that was meant to be off limits, rumours abounded immediately. Somehow Harry had been left out of the majority of them, most of the school only knew him as the blind-boy-who-lived, a novelty more than anything else, likely he fell down the stairs or something.

Those that knew him better did have suspicions, but Harry was quick to change the conversation when it was raised, he had decided on the (worryingly believable) lie that he had injured himself when practicing a spell. The burns on his hands helped sell the story, even after Madam Pomfrey had unwrapped the bandages, he knew they were scarred, they certainly felt different. His left hand wasn’t as bad, it was his weaker hand, and he hadn’t been able to grip or hit as well with it. His right hand was another matter, it was thinner now, the skin pulled tight across his fingers, and he had been warned by Madam Pomfrey that it was visible and fairly obvious.

Luckily magic was a wondrous thing and Madam Pomfrey had been able to heal the majority of the damage, he kept his dexterity and most of his grip strength in both hands.

“Unfortunately, much like the scarring across your eyes, the magic that caused these burns is very potent. There isn’t much I can do to about the scarring on your hands beyond some ointments that may help restore more blood flow to the skin. I am sorry Mr Potter.” Madam Pomfrey released his hand from her own and tucked her wand away as she sighed at her inability to help further.

“It’s okay Madam Pomfrey, it’s not that bad anyway, I can still use my hands just fine.” Harry said as he buttoned up his shirt, he was finally being released from the Hospital Wing and he didn’t want to give the nurse a reason to keep him any longer. In truth he didn’t mind the scarring all that much anyway, admittedly he didn’t want to stand out from the rest of the school anymore than he already did, but it really wasn’t that bad. Terry and Neville had gotten over the sight pretty quickly when he had lifted the edge of the bandages for them to see, and he doubted Susan or Hannah would care all that much. It couldn’t be worse than his eyes and face. He could just wear gloves more often.

“Very well, but if you experience any numbness in your hands or tremors then let me know immediately. I did my best to fix the nerves but they’re always tricky.” Harry nodded, doing his best to hide his enthusiasm for being released from the deadly boredom of the Hospital Wing. Evidently his acting skills left something to be desired. “Oh, very well, you are free to leave, but there are two weeks left before the end of term. I will want to see you before the last day for a check-up.”

“Thank you, Madam Pomfrey!” Harry said as he slung his bag over his shoulder and began to walk away, he was free!

Harry had to admit to being a little disappointed that his Head of House and somewhat mentor, Professor Flitwick, hadn’t come to visit him in the Hospital Wing during his stay there. In fact, the Charms Master hadn’t been seen around the castle at all since Harry’s “accident”. So when Harry received a note from Jeremy that asked him to visit the Professor’s office at his earliest convenience, he was so quick to set off that he nearly left his bag, only the older Prefects hand on his arm prevented him from leaving it in the Library and likely being lost forever.

All the questions that Harry had been bursting with fell away when he entered the Professor’s office to find the Charms Master sat in a chair by the fireplace, one arm in a sling and bandages wrapped around the top of his head.

“ -es I managed to follow the trail across the Channel but either he has allies among the Croatian’s, or I had extraordinary bad luck because there was a coven of Hag’s waiting for me when I stopped past Zagreb.” Professor Flitwick said into the fire. Harry nearly dropped his cane when a voice emanated from the fireplace, a familiar one at that.

“Filius Flitwick, Champion Duellist, defeated by a couple of Hags?” Castamir’s chuckled from the fire in response.

“Yes yes its very amusing to you I’m sure. Now, Albus has sent word to Remus who is going to keep an eye from Germany, but I know you still have friends in Sofia. Could you ask one of them to investigate? Albus is certain he will have stopped in Albania, but I have my doubts that he would risk dwelling so close to the ICW, they have a heavy presence in Delphi.” Professor Flitwick asked as he stretched his working hand in Harry’s direction and gestured for him to approach without looking away from the fire.

“Of course, my friend, I know a few people who could look into this for us. I will let you know what they find, now how is the boy?” Castamir asked. As Harry stepped closer, he could see that an odd framework of green and red magic had formed in the flames, like a sketch of Castamir’s face, but the sketch moved, and sounds emerged from it. It was odd and fascinating, like much of the magical world Harry was beginning to realise.

“Well, he can tell you for himself, Harry I am glad you received my note. I was just catching Castamir up on all that happened over the past week.” Professor Flitwick said as he leaned back in his chair and gestured at the fire.

“Harry! I’m glad to see you up and about, I heard about your unfortunate…encounter. Few can claim to have faced You-Know-Who and lived, let alone twice and all before your twelfth birthday!” Castamir exclaimed, his head bobbing in the fire excitedly.

“Uh..hi Castamir, I’m not sure it’s anything to boast about really. Professor Dumbledore saved me; without him I’d be…well I wouldn’t have survived.” Harry said, fighting the urge to cough as the memory of ash filling his mouth filled his mind for a moment.

“Harry, I don’t think you realise quite how impressive it is that you were able to last even as long as you did, you a first-year student stood against arguably the most powerful dark wizard since Grindelwald, perhaps even since before him! Nobody would expect you to be able to defeat him, but that you didn’t immediately fall to him is unquestionably impressive.” Castamir exclaimed and Professor Flitwick nodded at his words.

“Indeed, Headmaster Dumbledore was able to piece together much of what happened between you and Quirrell. Now while I am furious that you were put in such a position, I must confess I am immensely proud of your efforts Harry. The protections in place were designed to be difficult for a fully trained wizard, but you were able to overcome them with little difficulty.” Professor Flitwick suddenly chuckled before continuing. “You even got past my challenge with laughable ease, using a spell I still can’t find in any of my books, to get through a door that should have been impenetrable and unbreakable!” For a moment Harry was distracted by last words of the Professor, the book he had read the spell from was old, but it wasn’t that old. The French thief’s book would need another reading it seemed.

“When you put it like that, I suppose I did beat a Charms Master’s best work…” Harry grinned at Castamir’s guffaw and was relieved when Professor Flitwick laughed as well.

“Indeed, you did marvellously Harry, truly.” Flitwick said as winced briefly from the jostling of his injured arm.

“Professor, what happened to you? How did you get hurt? Where were you?” Harry hoped the last question didn’t sound as childishly needy to the professor as it had to him.

“Ah, well after the Headmaster retrieved you from the third floor, he alerted the rest of the staff to what had happened. Then he asked a few of us who could track apparition trails to try to follow You-Know-Who’s trail. It was difficult, whatever that spectre could do it wasn’t apparition, but it was similar enough that I managed to follow its route.”

“It’s called Geisterkette, only powerful spirits that aren’t tied to a specific location can do it. It allows them to … metaxy… slide between? They can move closer to the spirit realm, to death, and cross great distances in that space, but its dangerous. If they linger too long, then they can’t return here at all.” Castamir explained.

“Ah well, he used this … Geisterkette, to cross the Channel and get into Europe. He managed to slip through the coastal wards, and they slowed me down, but I caught up to him in Croatia, well I thought I did. Instead, I was met with a coven of Hags waiting for me. They caught me by surprise, it was foolish of me; I was expecting a spirit, or another possessed wizard. The Hags managed to hex my arm before I broke through their rune nets and dealt with them. By the time I had recovered enough to continue, the trail was gone so I made my way back and that brings us back to now.” Professor Flitwick reached with his wand and summoned a glass bottle from across the room, the cork floating from it as he took a sip and let out a small groan of disgust at the taste. “Skele-Gro, tastes foul but the best way to regrow missing bones which I currently have in my hand.” He explained to Harry.

“Well, I think I will leave you to rest Filius, but perhaps you should let me know the next time you plan to go hunting spirits? Clearly you need my help, you might run into a pack of pixies next time!” Castamir said with a smirk before the green lines of magic that made up his face disappeared into ordinary embers that spat from the fire into the air and floated up the flue. Harry did his best to stifle his grin when the Charms Professor turned from the fire with a faux glare.

“Now, I am glad you are recovered Harry, though I am again sorry you had to suffer another scar at You-Know-Who’s hands. Your aunt has been informed of what happened and knows you are safe and healed, she sent a rather scathing letter back to the Headmaster about his duty to protect the students, it was an entertaining read. I have also been asked to pass along these letters to you, they have already been translated into Braille, from a few friends who heard of what happened.” Professor Flitwick gestured to two envelopes that lay on his desk. “You can pass any replies on through me, or use one of the school owls, both of them know the translation charm for Braille. Now if I am not mistaken it is nearly curfew, you should hurry back to the dormitories Harry.”

That night Harry read the letters in bed before his now nightly ritual of meditating on his breathing and magic. The letters turned out to be from Alastor Moody and Percival Dearborn, the letter from the Auror was short and to the point.

Potter,

Heard what happened from Dumbledore. Good job protecting the stone. I wish I had a dozen Aurors like you twenty years ago, it would have gone differently.

Next time don’t just trust the authority figure, or anyone really. You need to be watching out for danger at all times, you’re a target to many Potter.

CONSTANT VIGILANCE

Alastor Moody

Harry had chuckled when reading it but quickly realised that the Auror was right, he was naïve to follow Professor Quirrell down through all those rooms. Any one of them could have been lethal and he should have realised sooner that something was wrong.

Percival’s letter was a little longer and more light-hearted.

Harry,

Well done! You’ve got a better story under your belt at eleven years old than most of the curse breakers I work with do at twenty!

Filius mentioned you got past McGonagall’s detection ward without triggering it, you’ll have to tell me the whole story when I see you next. Speaking of which, we drew straws and I won so;

I, Percival Dearborn, do hereby invite you to lunch at my home on the fourteenth of August.

The usual degenerates will be there, if you agree then let Filius know and he can pick you up.

Enjoy the last days at Hogwarts!

Yours Sincerely,

Percival Dearborn II

The last few days of term had flown by, Harry spent an hour on his second-to last day being examined by Madam Pomfrey before she declared him fit to return home, though she did apologise again for not being able to do anything more about the scarring on his hands.

He had waved her apologies off instantly; he had needed to answer a few questions about them, and Terry had let him know about some odd stares, but it wasn’t all that different to normal. His friends didn’t treat him any differently, that was all that mattered.

The feast that night had been a loud and bittersweet affair, many students pleased to be going home to their families, while others wished to stay or to not be leaving for the last time. The Headmaster had stood and announced a few details about the departure the next day, what time the train would be leaving and what to do with trunks. Then he had announced the winners of the House Cup and Ravenclaw house had erupted into cheers at learning that they had finally broken Slytherin’s streak. Professor Flitwick had lifted the cup that was nearly as tall as he was and commended the Ravenclaw’s on their hard work and success. (Harry later learned from a suspiciously wobbly looking Jeremy that three Slytherin’s had been caught sneaking around the third-floor corridor and had lost enough points that they had no chance to catch up in the final weeks.)

All too quickly they were all bundled onto the Hogwarts Express as it began to trundle away from Hogsmeade station. They had ridden down to the station in carriages that moved without any horses or even any magic that Harry could see, just a few charms that he recognised as being for comfort and safety, similar to what the seats at the Quidditch Pitch had cast upon them.

As the train picked up speed, the rhythmic clickety-clack muffled by the wooden panelling and magic upon it, Harry sighed as his group of friends settled into their compartment. Neville had left Hermione with Padma and Sue Li, who she had become friends with during the exams, and joined Harry, Terry, Susan and Hannah in their compartment. Susan and Hannah were playing exploding snap with Terry, his initial suggestion of Gobstones had been met with furious refusal by the girls, while Neville and Harry were discussing their plans for the summer.

“I think I’ll be spending most of it at home, Gran did mention going on a trip to South America to visit Uncle Algie but that’s about it. I do have some ideas for changing the greenhouses at the house, but I’ll have to convince Gran to let me do it, Venomous Tentacular is technically restricted, so she’d need to buy the seeds for me.” Harry shuddered at the thought of spending more time with that particular plant than absolutely necessary. “What about you Harry?”

“Well I suppose much of the same, I’ll be at home for most of it. Although I did get invited to lunch at Percival Dearborn’s, so that’ll be fun.” Harry shrugged and was about to ask what Neville’s uncle was doing in South America when the Gryffindor sputtered at him.

“You… you got invited to lunch at Percival Dearborn’s house?” Neville asked in disbelief.

“Well yeah, I met him at Christmas when Professor Flitwick took me to Castamir’s store for dinner, Percival and Alastor Moody were there.” Harry explained with a shrug.

“You met Captain Moody as well?! That’s so cool!” Neville exclaimed. “I saw him once, Moody I mean, we were in Diagon Alley for clothes or something and he said hello to Gran. Then he headed down into Knockturn, no backup, just him! Crazy.” Neville sagged back into his seat at the end of his retelling and sighed as if exhausted by the effort. “And Percival Dearborn is my cousin or something, Gran is his dad’s cousin maybe? But he’s been away from Britain for years, he’s a Curse Breaker for Gringotts and he barely ever comes back here. A lot of the other families don’t like him, he’s the last Dearborn and he doesn’t seem to care about any of the traditions, turns down all the invitations to balls and parties and such.” Neville explained as Harry nodded along, that did sound like Percival.

“Huh, well I guess he’s friends with Castamir through his work maybe? I only met him because I was invited by Professor Flitwick.” Harry wondered aloud.

“Oh, is Castamir another Curse Breaker?” Neville asked.

“No, Castamir is an … enchanter? He runs the Copper Artifice, it’s down a side street, near Obscurus Books?” Harry explained.

“Ohhh I’ve seen that place, Gran always said I shouldn’t go in there though, said it was owned by a Dark Wizard.” Neville shrugged at Harry’s incredulous expression. “I’m not saying this Castamir bloke is a Dark Wizard, maybe he took over from a Dark Wizard? Or Gran might have been confused. I mean, Professor Flitwick wouldn’t have taken you to meet a Dark Wizard anyway.”

Harry fell into silence as he thought about Castamir and Percival. Eventually he shook himself from his introspection, distracted by the arrival of Food Trolley and his grumbling stomach.

Once the five friends had filled their bellies with sandwiches and pastries, they spent the remainder of the train ride playing games and discussing their first year. They even had a little competition, who could make the best needle from a matchstick, who could levitate the heaviest object, who could make the brightest light with Lumos.

Terry tried to convince Harry to show them the spell he had “injured himself testing” but Harry had declined, explaining it was a bad idea to conjure fire in a wooden compartment. He had demonstrated a few of the less dangerous charms he had learnt, including one that caused the compartment to sink into sudden darkness. The light streaming through the window dulled to nothing, and the compartment was plunged into immediate dark for a few seconds before the light began to filter through the window again.

It was another spell from the thief’s memoirs that he had found and reread more closely in his last days at Hogwarts. The thief, a Regis De la Rue, had spent years breaking into the nobles of France before the Revolution and had successfully stolen many of their riches, devising his own spells to help him. Eventually one of the nobles decided to hire Goblins to protect their vaults. this was shortly after one of the Goblin rebellions and Gringotts had lost many of their wealthier clients during those times. Regis had managed to get past many of the protections on the vault before he was struck by a creature the Goblin’s had brought in to guard the riches, the creature was defeated and Regis escaped with some of the noble’s riches, but his wound was bad enough to blind him in one eye. He retired shortly after and then the Revolution sent most of the noble families fleeing to other countries or to the guillotine anyway. Regis heard about the invention of Braille in his twilight years and decided to learn and use the language to write his memoirs and record his adventures.

It was an incredible read, almost like an adventure book at points, and filled with spells and tips, so full in fact that Harry suspected it was enchanted in some way. He was sure it hadn’t had as much information the first time he had read it.

Soon London came into view, and they took turns changing into more appropriate clothing, except for Harry who just took his robes off to reveal a normal looking shirt and trousers. He had decided the hassle of changing on the train was not worth it, and his clothes were close enough to the uniform that he doubted he’d be in trouble for it.

As they came to a slow screeching halt at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, they all retrieved their trunks and began to step down from the train. Harry used the last moments of freedom to levitate his trunk down and cast a charm to make it lighter before tucking his wand away with a quiet sigh. Susan stood at the edge of the platform looking ready to leap for him if he stumbled, but he stepped cleanly off and tapped his cane ahead of him as they made their way through the crowds of people waiting for their children, brothers, sisters, cousins.

“Oh I see my Gran, I’d best go, she doesn’t like big crowds. I’ll write to you all, we can meet up in Diagon maybe?” Neville gave Harry and Terry a one armed hug and nodded to Susan and Hannah before making his way towards a tall woman wearing a strange looking hat before they were both swallowed by the crowds.

“Oh and I see my aunty, she’s picking me and Hannah up. I will write to you as well, and we will be seeing each other in Diagon.” Susan said, the last part a hard fact as she stared at the two boys before both nodded. She gave them both quick hugs that left the two blushing.

“I’m not hugging you, but I will write as well, have a good summer!” Hannah said as she walked away with Susan, the both of them giggling for reasons unknown to Harry.

“Well Harry, I’m meeting my folks on the other side of the barrier like you, want to go together?” Terry offered.

“Yeah let’s go, its too crowded here.” Harry agreed readily as he noticed more and more people staring and pointing as whispers began to fill the space around him.

The two first-years stepped through the brick wall and found themselves in Kings Cross and ahead of them were two women happily chatting as they sat on a bench nearby. The same bench, Harry realised belatedly, that he had sat on when he had been watching the platform back in September.

Petunia saw Harry first and rushed across to him, grabbing him in a tight hug. Terry experienced the same from his own mother who kissed him noisily on the cheek much to his embarrassment.

“Oh Harry, I can’t believe how big you’ve grown! I’ve missed you.” Petunia squeezed him again before stepping back, though she kept one hand on his shoulder as she turned to Terry and his mother. “And this must be Terry, Harry has mentioned you in his letters, it’s lovely to meet you. Your mother and I were just talking about you both, we don’t live too far away, perhaps we could meet for lunch soon, right Rachel?”

Terry’s mother, Rachel, nodded happily as she extended a hand in Harry’s direction. “Yes yes absolutely, it’s nice to meet you Harry, Terry’s written a lot about you as well. Oh I’m sorry my hand -” Rachel had realised she had stuck her hand out for a seemingly blind boy but Harry just reached out and shook it easily smiling at her flustered apology.

The two women quickly agreed to call each other the following week to arrange something before they departed, Rachel and Terry heading to catch another train and Harry and his aunt making their way to the car park.

Soon they were leaving London and returning to Surrey, Petunia peppering him with questions about his year as he did his best to answer them all.

Only when they neared Privet Drive and Harry saw the great roiling curtain of red magic that he recognised as a ward did he feel his shoulders tense and a few beads of sweat form on his neck and forehead. He was home, but he didn’t feel like it. In fact, as happy as he was to see his aunt, it felt more like he had left home behind back in Scotland.

They had already driven through the ward when this thought crossed his mind, if they hadn’t, he might have seen the shiver that ran across the great ward. A rippling contraction that caused the wall of magic to shudder and roil dangerously before it slowly settled.

A/N And that’s Year 1 finished! There will be another chapter covering the summer before we jump into Year 2. We had a little more lore dropped and some insight into Voldemort’s reasonings for his actions in the last chapter. I’m doing my best to spread out the world building, I know it can be a slog to read through thousands of words of it.

Again I have to say thank you to everyone who has supported this story so far, it’s amazing to see how many people have read and enjoyed what I’ve written and means a great deal to me, so thank you all!

I will be sticking with the fortnightly update schedule as it gives me plenty of time to rewrite and do grammar checks, but if I miss anything please let me know.

And please continue to Review, Favourite and Follow if you are still enjoying this story, and if you aren’t then let me know what I’m doing wrong!

Many thanks,

Daedalus Smythe

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Harry had expected to be sent to his cupboard as soon as he stepped into the house, so he was confused when his aunt placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him up the stairs instead. He was guided up to the landing and then to the right towards Dudley’s second bedroom (which was really just a guest room that Dudley had dumped his unwanted birthday gifts in) and when he stepped through the open doorway he was stunned for a moment.

Gone were the boxes filled with broken or unwanted toys that had previously filled the room, instead there was a wooden desk now placed against the wall on the left side of the room with his old Braille typewriter sat proudly upon it and a stack of parchment and paper beside it. Opposite the desk was a plain single bed, a wooden dressing table settled against the foot of the bed with a small lamp on top of it and filling the remainder of the wall between the dresser and the door was a tall bookcase already half filled with books and tomes.

“Vernon and I have had words and he agreed that it was well overdue for you to move out of your previous room and into something more fitting for a growing boy your age. Now the furniture is just temporary, we can replace anything you don’t like, and we need to get you a chair for the desk, but what do you think?” Petunia asked as he stepped slowly into the room. Harry was wise enough to read between the lines and knew that this was almost certainly something his aunt had forced his uncle into doing. She had struggled to ensure he was treated, if not fairly then at least not poorly, ever since he had been taken in by them, eventually Vernon had settled on ignoring Harry’s existence which was a fine compromise in Harry’s opinion.

“It’s perfect, thank you Aunt Petunia!” Harry threw his arms around the older woman and held her in a tight hug for a few seconds before he stepped away and turned back to his room. His room.

“Well I’ll leave you to unpack and get settled, you should be able to slip your trunk under your bed once its empty. We will go into town tomorrow and pick up a chair and anything else you need.” Petunia closed the door and the light creaking of the staircase let Harry know she had returned downstairs. He could faintly hear the deep rumbling sound of Vernon’s voice from the living room which was directly below Harry’s new room, though the large man had nothing on Hagrid’s thunderous tones.

He quickly unpacked his trunk, putting his folded clothes into the dresser, making sure the braille labels his aunt had stitched into the collars, waists and ankles of the various items were at the top of each item. Then he moved his trunk over to the bookcase that stretched to the ceiling and began to brush his fingers across the spines of the books already stacked on the lower shelves. Some of the books were familiar to him; an Oxford Dictionary, a Thesaurus, the Encyclopaedia set his aunt had gotten him on his eighth birthday and a copy of Brother’s Grimm Folk Tales that they had found in a second-hand store in London several years ago. But then there were other books that were decidedly more magical in nature; Spellman’s Syllabary, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander, Introduction to Alchemy by Jean Duval and a few others on the highest shelves he couldn’t quite reach. He unpacked his schoolbooks onto the lowest shelf and then tucked his trunk under his bed, it slid under neatly and then he was finished.

His inner Ravenclaw took control and he immediately grabbed one of the new books from his bookshelf. He had been unable to find much information about Nicholas Flamel and the Philosopher’s Stone in the brief time he had been able to spend researching in the Hogwarts Library after Headmaster Dumbledore had told him of the man and his creation, but he had been able to find a few scant references to him. In one he learned that the man was often known by the moniker of ‘The Immortal Alchemist’, so he couldn’t help his interest in the book he now had access to.

To his dismay, he realised that the book was well beyond his current understanding before he had finished the first page.

Alchemy is the art of true change. Many argue that Alchemy could be described as a simple combination of Potions and Transfiguration. They are fools to the last. Alchemy is its own distinct discipline, though it does use some methods and techniques which are also used in other disciplines.

The goal of Alchemy is to understand, and through this understanding enact change. Change of a metal from lead or tin to silver or gold, change of dead flesh into a living body, change of energy from one form to another. A Master Alchemist can create one of the pinnacles of Alchemy; the Philosopher’s Stone as it is most commonly known, tangible evidence of their greater understanding of the world and its forces.

Alchemy’s practical techniques are known as Transmutation, the method of changing an object’s nature permanently. Using a combination of Arithmancy to calculate the rate of decay of the object’s state of flux, Runes to stabilise and direct the flow of magic and wandwork to apply the matrix to enact the change required.

Many historical groups have produced their own techniques for practical Alchemy, from the Taoist groups who are famed for creating “drinkable gold”, to Hermes Trismegistos and his work in the Middle East and, more recently, the so-called Latin Alchemy which combined techniques from other older groups in the 12th Century.

Most of that was lost on Harry, though he had heard several mentions of Arithmancy and Runes among the older students and knew they were among the elective subjects they could choose from for their third year. With a disappointed sigh he slid the heavy book back onto the shelf and instead pulled out Spellman’s Syllabary which he took with him as he sat back on the bed and opened the book to the first page.

This book seemed more his level, it was an introductory piece on Runes and their uses as well as the basics of how to decipher and translate the meanings of the most common alphabets used.

Runes are symbols first and foremost. They are the remnants of languages that have been or were used for hundreds if not thousands of years. Specifically, languages or symbols that were used in association with magic. Some cultures separated symbols from language wholly, such as the Britons who used symbols only for specific meanings and used a different alphabet for their written word. Others allowed the two to blend together, such as the Norse who had meanings associated with each of the characters in their language of Elder Futhark as well as a few symbols, often combinations of these characters, which had their own specific meanings. The Egyptians are another example of this, they used Hieroglyphs in their writing, but they understood the power of language and also attached various meanings to the Hieroglyphs that allowed for a single string of Hieroglyphs to have several potential meanings.

Wizards and Witches can use these symbols to direct and interact with magic to achieve extraordinary effects such as interpreting magic in an understandable format such as Healers do, creating long lasting magical effects over an area with Wards, or imbuing objects with magical characteristics when Enchanting. Runes can also be used for translating ancient artifacts; scrolls, tablets, or tomes which help our understanding of ancient cultures and in certain professions can be very useful or even lifesaving.

Harry was quickly enthralled by the book and spent the next hour reading through the first few chapters, whoever had translated the book had either been blind or had been very considerate as each rune the book covered had a description of how it looked as well as a large imprint in the page in the shape of the rune to allow readers to run their fingers across it and learn its shape much like they would the Braille lettering around it. He had only covered two of the runes, the descriptions and meanings were long and detailed, when he was interrupted by a knock on his door before it opened gently.

“Harry dear, dinner is ready.” Petunia said as she opened the door fully letting the mouth-watering scent of hot gravy and vegetables waft into the room. Harry’s stomach growled at the reminder of how long it had been since he had eaten on the train and he quickly closed the book he was reading and made his way over to the door, grabbing his cane as he slipped out and followed his aunt down the stairs.

Vernon and Dudley were already seated at the table, their plates piled high with roasted beef and potatoes with a few carrots and peas that Dudley was doing his best to avoid. Harry took his seat silently and was surprised at the lack of insult or even comment at his return after his year away. He decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth though and tucked into the more reasonable portion of food that his aunt placed in front of him. His aunt sat down with a smaller portion of food and the four of them ate in relative silence, interrupted only by Vernon’s occasional snort or cough as he did his best to fill his mouth with greater and greater amounts of food, an impressive but disgusting effort that ended with him wiping a finger through the dregs of gravy on his plate in an attempt to not let a single morsel escape him.

“Well, that wasn’t bad Petunia.” Vernon grunted out as he heaved himself to his feet, his chair creaking with relief as the large man left the kitchen and waddled into the living room without another word. Dudley soon followed his fathers lead, leaving just Harry and Petunia at the table. Petunia quickly finished her meal and collected the plates, taking them to the sink to begin washing up. Harry helped with the drying before his aunt gave him a tight hug and sent him up to wash and go to bed, promising they would go out the next day to pick up a chair and some new clothes as she tugged on the sleeve of his shirt that stopped a few inches shy of his wrists.

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The first week of the summer holidays was a peaceful one for Harry, his aunt had taken him into town to pick up some new clothes, a little larger so he could grow into them, and a nice wooden chair for his desk. His uncle and cousin had both been ignoring him completely since he had returned which suited Harry just fine and he had enjoyed his new freedom greatly. He had noticed something a little odd when his aunt had taken him shopping though, his sight had seemed different, and it had taken him most of the day to realise what it was. The colours in his sight were all duller, not by much but enough for him to notice when he compared them with his memories of Hogwarts or even Diagon Alley. It didn’t affect him overly, apart from a faint sense of longing to return to those places of magic and colour.

Towards the end of the first week Harry did begin to feel a little disappointed that none of his friends had written to him yet, but he was able to ignore those feelings, focussing instead on completing his summer assignments. Professor Dumbledore hadn’t been kidding when he said he was being given extra work. He had been given at least one extra essay to write per subject, with Professor Snape assigning three and Professor McGonagall assigning two. On his breaks, between working away at the large list of assignments he had been given, he read through more of the Runes book he had found in his bookcase. It was very interesting and he had already decided that he would definitely be taking the subject when he was given the choice the following year.

Only after the first week was spent and he was nearing the end of his second week did the whispers of doubt in his mind begin to find purchase. Familiar words from his younger years echoing in his head; who would want to be friends with the blind kid? The weird kid? He did his best to ignore them, throwing himself into his studies and his newfound interest in Runes, but at night when he lay in bed, he could do little to fend off the doubts as he drifted into fitful sleep.

He was awoken on his fifteenth day back in Privet Drive by his aunt’s familiar knock on the door as she made her way downstairs to begin breakfast for Vernon before he left for work. He waited until Vernon had left for work and Dudley had gone to his friend Piers house to “do homework” before he joined his aunt in the kitchen for a quick bowl of cereal. Then he was back upstairs and working his way through the last of his Potions essays, the familiar clicking of his Braille typewriter was comforting and he had just finished his conclusion on the various effects of Porcupine quills in potions when his aunt once again knocked on his door. Usually, she only disturbed him for lunch, he often got carried away and lost track of time and without her reminders he would have missed several lunches over the past fortnight, but he was fairly sure that it wasn’t midday just yet.

“Harry, are you okay in there?” Petunia asked as she pushed the door open a fraction. “You have a visitor.” The door opened the rest of the way as Harry turned to face it, his hand swiping past his face as he made his now instinctive check to make sure his glasses were on. He was shocked to see stood just behind his aunt was Professor Flitwick, the older wizard was wearing a suit and smiled widely upon seeing Harry sat in the room.

“Hello Harry, how are you?” Flitwick asked as he stood in the doorway, his eyes darting quickly around the room before returning to Harry’s face. Harry was surprised to see the professor but pleased as he was a link to the world of magic that seemed so far away from Privet Drive.

“I’m okay thanks Professor, but what – I mean it’s great to see you sir, but what are you doing here?” Harry asked curiously as the Charms Master turned to face his aunt.

“Mrs Dursley, could I trouble you for a cup of that delicious tea I had the last time I was here?” Professor Flitwick asked and as Petunia nodded and headed down to the kitchen, he turned back to Harry and drew his wand.

For a brief moment a spike of fear shot through Harry as the professor swished the wand through the air, but no spell was launched at him and instead a series of runes flashed into view in his sight. He didn’t recognise most of them, but one did stick with him as it was the first in the Syllabary that he had found; Ansuz, the rune for communication and knowledge. Once the last of the runes had faded from view, the professor frowned and muttered something before turning back to Harry with a sigh.

“I am sorry Harry, but I had to check there wasn’t an enchantment or curse on the room or you. To answer your question; I am here to check on you. You have several friends worried about you, it appears someone or something has been intercepting your mail, Harry.” Professor Flitwick explained as he inspected the inside of the room, he seemed particularly interested in the bookcase but then, he was the head of Ravenclaw house. “I was in Germany when I received word from several of your classmates and a mutual friend of ours, that you hadn’t been replying to any letters. I decided to write my own letter to you and placed an enchantment on it to track it’s progress, it made it all the way to your street before it was intercepted and after that I couldn’t track it anymore.”

“Wait so someone is … stealing my mail?” Harry asked in confusion. “What could someone want my letters for?”

“An excellent question Harry, and one I will ponder on, luckily there is a temporary workaround to this problem.” The charms master reached into a pocket and pulled out a plump stack of envelopes which he offered to Harry. “I have taken on the role of post owl for now, though I think we will need to find a better alternative soon. My schedule does not become quiet enough during the summer that I could do this weekly for you I’m afraid.”

Harry smiled and thanked the professor as he flipped through the envelopes, each one with a name printed in Braille so he could tell who had written them.

“Now why don’t we join your aunt downstairs for tea, and we can discuss your plans for the summer.” Professor Flitwick led the way downstairs and into the kitchen where Petunia had arranged a large teapot and three teacups around it, there was even half a sponge cake that had been saved from Dudley’s appetite somehow. They all sat down and as Professor Flitwick complimented his aunt on her garden, Harry took the chance to read through the letters. There were four in total; Terry, Susan, Neville and Castamir had all written one to him and each one had two sheets of parchment, one with the written letter and the other with the Braille printed on for him.

Hi Harry,

I’m not sure if this will get through to you, but my mum has arranged something with your aunt for next week, so I’ll be seeing you soon anyway. I hope you’re okay, feels weird being away from Hogwarts doesn’t it? Not sure what else I should write, but if my mum asks I asked about your feelings or something, okay?

Stay out of trouble!

Terry

Hi Harry,

What’s going on with your letters? Me and Hannah have sent you three and you haven’t replied to a single one, are you okay? I hope you have a good reason for not replying because otherwise we’ll be having words mister!

I hope you’ve had a good few weeks at home, me and Hannah have spent most of it doing our homework but we’re all done now (finally!). We were planning to head into Diagon to pick up school supplies with Hannah’s mum the day after our letters turn up, would you like to join us?

Hope you’re okay!

Susan & Hannah

Hi Harry,

This is the second letter I’ve sent, but Hannah said something about your letters being blocked? Either way, I hope you’re having a good summer so far. I’m heading down to Argentina next week to visit Uncle Algie, I’ll try and pick up a souvenir for you!

Be safe!

Neville Longbottom

Harry,

I sent a letter that was found and opened by someone that wasn’t you, I put a charm on most of my letters to prevent that so the letter was destroyed when it was opened but it’s still a bad sign. I’ve let Filius know which is likely how you will have received this. Be careful Harry, it’s a risk to steal Owl post, if you’re caught it’s a year in Azkaban so whoever is doing this either doesn’t care or isn’t worried about being charged. You need to be careful, don’t leave the house alone if you can help it. As our mutual friend would say, CONSTANT VIGILANCE.

It can wait until I see you next, but after hearing about your escapades this year I thought you might appreciate a little extra teaching, nothing particularly strenuous but you should know how to identify curses and wards at the least. Pop in the next time you’re in Diagon.

Yours sincerely,

Castamir Leventis
The Copper Artificer

“ – ake is just delicious, I don’t normally have a sweet tooth, but it really is lovely, did you bake it yourself?” Professor Flitwick asked as his aunt … giggled?

“Oh it’s just an old family recipe, the secret is coconut shavings.” Petunia explained as she cut another slice of the cake and wrapped it in some kitchen paper before placing it in front of the Charms master. “Here, for later.”

“You are a most gracious host Mrs Dursley, Mr Dursley is a very lucky man.” Professor Flitwick smiled as he tucked the wrapped treat into hidden pocket inside his jacket. “Now, Harry would you like me to relay any messages to your friends or our mutual friend in Diagon Alley?”

“Could you just tell them that there is a problem with me receiving letters for now? I’m seeing Terry next week so I can pass anything else on through him.” Harry paused as he remembered a request he had received the previous year when he had first visited Diagon Alley. “And … well could you pass a message onto Mr Ollivander please sir?” He asked nervously.

“Ollivander? Why? Is something wrong with your wand Harry?” Professor Flitwick asked in surprise and concern; a damaged wand could be very dangerous.

“No nothing like that, Mr Ollivander asked me to come by his shop this summer, but if I can’t send or receive letters then I won’t be able to visit anytime soon. Could you let him know?” Harry asked, he didn’t want to upset or annoy the wandmaker. It seemed a bad idea to upset the man who made wands for most of Britain.

“Garrick asked you to visit him? Well now my curiosity is piqued! Mrs Dursley, would you mind if I took Harry for a quick visit to Diagon Alley? I could have him back before dinner, I’m sure.” Filius asked Harry’s aunt who sighed at Harry’s pleading expression before nodding her assent.

“Yes yes you can go, but you stay with Professor Flitwick the entire time and do as he says, okay?” Petunia shouted to him as he rushed up to his room to grab his wand holster and cane, nearly tumbling back down the stairs as he misjudged the second step from the top. He came down at a slightly more sensible pace and gave his aunt a hug as he agreed to her conditions.

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The apparition to Diagon Alley felt a little smoother to Harry on that occasion, perhaps a combination of experience and his anticipation of returning to the world of magic helped. Either way he didn’t need to stand still heaving in breaths to stave off the nauseating dizziness, so he was pleased.

He imagined that he and the professor must have looked an odd pair walking down the main thoroughfare of Diagon Alley; a blind boy with his cane tapping absently on the cobbles before him and a short wizard walking beside him, pointing out things that surely a blind boy wouldn’t be able to comment on.

Ollivanders’ was empty when they first approached and as Professor Flitwick opened the door, the little bell chiming above, Harry half wondered if perhaps the wand maker was away. Then a crashing sound echoed from the depths of the shop, the clattering of many boxes falling, and a few choice curses followed before the wandmaker stepped into Harry’s awareness. The tall man hadn’t changed much, his silvery magic drifting like mist from his body as he approached the front of the shop.

“Ahhh Filius and young Mr Potter, Acacia and Dragon Heartstring eleven inches and Rowan and Phoenix Feather twelve inches, yes?” The wandmaker asked as he leaned over the counter to inspect the two visitors.

“Yes very impressive Garrick, I’m sure Mr Potter is suitably impressed with your parlour trick.” Professor Flitwick chuckled as he stepped up to the counter, a series of invisible steps appearing in Harry’s sight as the short wizard walked up until he was able to sit on the countertop.

“An old man has to take his fun where he can Filius.” Ollivander said as he patted the professor on the arm and gestured for Harry to step closer. “Now, I take it you are here about my offer last year Mr Potter? Unless you have managed to damage your wand in the brief time you’ve borne it?” The previously gentle wisps of silver sharpened into cruel jagged edges at the mention of damage to a wand but softened again at Harry’s quick denial.

“No no my wand is fine.” He drew it from its holster beneath his left arm and showed it to the wandmaker who took it with a careful hand, bringing it up to his ear for a moment before he nodded with a satisfied smile and handed it back to Harry. “I came because you asked me to last year, something about my cane?”

“Excellent, yes well I suppose I should explain myself. As a wandmaker I am particularly sensitive to the presence of materials that are suitable for focuses. Does Hogwarts teach you about focuses still?” Ollivander sighed in disappointment at Harry’s nervous shake of the head. “Very well, a brief history lesson then; magical focuses are objects that allow a witch or wizard to channel and direct their magic more easily. We use wands for this, as do most countries, as they are the most versatile and stable focuses that we have found. Up until a century ago, many mages would wield a stave as well as a wand, the stave was seen as a mark of distinction, only those with great skill and focus could use one for anything beyond the most basic of spells and for many centuries they were a sign of skill. However, recently the stave or staff suffered from a decline in popularity, the connotation of weakness in needing a staff to walk with meant that many mages refused to use them, they didn’t want to be seen as infirm or weak. There are, of course, a few exceptions to this; an Auror I know of wields a stave to devastating effect, but he is seen as nearly crippled by many who discount it.” Harry smiled as he realised he knew the Auror Ollivander was describing. “There is also a wizard who uses a cane due to an injury he claims he received while imperiused during the Blood War.” Professor Flitwick twitched his wand at the mention of this and a rippling shell of blue magic covered the entrance of the shop.

“Garrick do not involve Mr Potter in anything to do with that man.” Flitwick warned the wandmaker as he kept his eyes pointed at the door of the shop as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment.

“Peace Filius, I do not intend to set the two against each other, though I doubt it would take much. No, this other wizard who uses a cane sought out a wandmaker from Europe, a French witch of lesser skill, to craft their cane and has since stated to many that a stave is a much lesser instrument to a wand. Going so far as to claim that only those who are injured like he claims to be should use one, he even disparaged my own work for Alastor.” Ollivander explained, his anger at the insult to his work evident in his voice and in the movement of his magic as once again it sharpened and bristled.

“But what does this have to do with me, sir?” Harry asked as he did his best to absorb the information he’d been told, making a mental note to look up some of it at a later date.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want to craft you a stave Mr Potter.” Ollivander said, gesturing to the cane Harry held loosely in his hand. “That cane is made of Rowan wood, remarkably similar to the wood your wand is made from in fact, and it has been soaked in your magic for several years. Why I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better specimen for crafting a magical focus from, it is already so deeply linked to you and your magic that I doubt it will take long to craft at all.”

“But, I’m sorry Mr Ollivander but surely crafting me a ... stave? Surely that won’t help the idea that only those who are weak would use them?” Harry asked, after all how would a blind boy using one improve the image?

“Weak? You believe you are weak Mr Potter? No, besides it is not strength that a stave requires, it is skill. Skill and focus. You have those in spades Mr Potter, defeating a Troll in your first year? Adapting a charm on the fly to burn through a magical creature’s own resistance is not an easy feat.” The wandmaker leaned closer to Harry and pointed at his face with a long finger. “I did not tell you last year, I did not want to upset you, but the Phoenix who’s feather rests in your wand, he gave one other. And that wand was used for great things, terrible undoubtedly, but great. I have no doubt we can expect great things from you as well Mr Potter, truly great things.”

The blood drained from Harry’s face as he felt his breath catch in his throat. His wand was like Voldemort’s? His wand, the length of warm wood that let him conjure such fantastic magic, it was like the one that killed his parents? He felt bile rising as his mouth filled with the acrid taste and his hands shook. He couldn’t understand what kind of sick joke it was, that his wand was like Voldemort’s. For a moment ash filled his mouth and darkness swallowed him as he felt the pure radiating hatred and malice that the wraith had been filled with surround him again.

“-arry! Harry remember your breathing, in for five and then out for five. Feel for your magic Harry.” The voice sounded far away, like it was calling out from behind a thick curtain, but just the mention of his breathing had him slipping instinctively into the meditative breathing he had been taught the previous year. At first it was difficult, his chest felt tight, it was hard to draw in air, but as his magic flowed and he felt the comforting warmth filling him, his breaths came easier and easier.

When his breathing settled and the painful memories were subdued, he realised that he was sat on the floor, Professor Flitwick stood next to him and Mr Ollivander stood in front of him holding a glass of water.

“Here Mr Potter, drink this it will help. I am very sorry, I did not intend to upset you, but I thought you deserved the truth.” Ollivander offered the glass as he apologised, his silver magic listless and limp around the wandmaker. Harry accepted the drink and took several long swigs of it before he responded.

“It-it’s okay Mr Ollivander, its not your fault I just… I can’t believe my wand is like … his.” Harry explained as he reached a hand up to brush against the object in question, sheathed under his arm.

“Just because they share a few similarities, does not mean they are the same Mr Potter. Your wand will excel at defensive magic more than any other, your wards and barriers will be especially strong. But it is not the wand that casts the spells Mr Potter, it is the wizard. It is you. I do not doubt what I said, I expect great things from you Mr Potter.” Ollivander stated as he took back the empty glass and set it on the counter behind him. “Now, back to the original purpose of your visit. I would like to craft a stave for you, using your cane. It will take me a few days; you would need to return at the end of next week to collect it. I should warn you Mr Potter, you cannot use wand movements with a stave, I did not exaggerate when I said it requires great skill and focus. I do not expect you to be able to use it properly for many years, but eventually, with practice, you will be able to use it alongside your wand to great effect, I am sure of it. But it is your choice, I will not force this upon you.”

Harry took a moment to consider the wandmakers offer, his hand tightening around his cane as he thought about it. The image of Alastor Moody flashed into his mind, his eye burning with golden magic. That was a man who had fought the worst things that could be thrown at him and survived, a man who could protect his friends and family.

“Okay I’ll do it Mr Ollivander.” He said as he relaxed his grip and offered the cane to the older man. “I could do with something to use instead until I collect it though, could I pick something up here in Diagon Alley?”

As soon as the cane left his grasp Harry felt a pang of sudden loss, he had used the same cane ever since his aunt had brought it for him on his eighth birthday and knowing he would be without it even for a few days was an uncomfortable thought. Ollivander took the cane with a careful grip and stepped back around the counter to lean it gently against one of the precariously stacked piles of wand boxes.

“I have something of my uncle’s that you could use for now, its of a similar size so you shouldn’t have much difficulty with it.” The wandmaker said as he pulled his own wand from his sleeve and whipped it in the direction of the back of the building, a spark of silver magic shooting from the tip of his wand and disappearing into the depths of the store. Only a few seconds passed before the spark returned, a plain wooden cane following behind it and landing just in front of Harry. “There you go, you should be able to use that until you can return.”

The wandmaker asked Harry several questions before he would let the pair leave; would Harry like a metal head fitted to the cane? Did he have a preference on the runic language used on the outside of the focus? Then he took several measurements with a floating tape, even measuring the circumference of Harry’s head before finally letting him leave with a promise to be done within a week.

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“Now this is dangerous and difficult magic Harry, but you have shown a talent for it already in your adventures in June so I will be showing you the most basic techniques for identifying magic, you can already detect its presence better than most.” Castamir nodded to Professor Flitwick who lifted a silk sheet to reveal a tray with several strange items sat upon it. There were four objects, each a different shape and size and each had the glow of magic upon them. The first was a small metal thimble, it was the least magical of the items with only a dull yellow sheen to it. Taking up the middle of the tray was a pair of goblets, one silver and the other gold, the magic on the goblets was stronger than the thimble and a midnight blue with several symbols swimming across the metal of both of the goblets. The last item was a small box with a plain looking silver ring inside, the magic on the ring was bronze and dark with a faint halo of purple surrounding it, contracting and expanding as it spun softly around the ring.

“Each of these items is enchanted in some way, nothing too complex, but you are going to examine each one and tell me your best guess at what the enchantment is, what its purpose is and, more importantly, what triggers the magic on it.” Castamir explained as he gestured to the tray. Harry frowned as he looked at the items laid out before him, he only knew a handful of runes and only in the first language his book covered; Elder Futhark. He doubted he would be able to decipher much at all about the magic on these items, but he would give it a try if only to avoid having to admit defeat at something magical. He reached a hand up to his holster and drew his wand before pausing as he remembered the warning they had been given before leaving Hogwarts; underage students were forbidden from using magic when out of school unless in serious danger. His brief expression of annoyance must have been spotted by Castamir who patted him on the shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about the underage magic laws here Harry, the Trace won’t be able to alert the Ministry while you’re in my shop, I have enchantments on every brick and nail in the place.”

Harry wanted to believe the man who had so far been honest and friendly to him, but still hesitated in actually casting any magic until Professor Flitwick affirmed his friend’s words.

“Castamir is not wrong Harry, while you are wise to avoid triggering the Trace, it is a relatively weak charm and the wards here are more than enough to prevent it from reaching the next door let alone the Office of Improper Use of Magic.” Flitwick assured Harry before sighing as Castamir preened visibly at the compliment.

With his worries assuaged, Harry turned his attention back to the tray and the first item on it, he didn’t know any divinatory magic nor any technique or other spell to help him in his efforts and for several moments he simply observed it, his mind racing for some scrap of knowledge relevant to identifying magic. Even De la Rue’s book hadn’t mentioned anything about the actual process of identifying magic, but he must have known of a method as he was able to defeat or sneak past many enchantments and wards in his time.

Harry spent almost fifteen minutes with his attention wholly focussed on the thimble before he finally let out a loud sigh and slumped on the stool Castamir had offered him when they first entered the shop. He opened his mouth, ready to admit defeat or at least ask for a hint, just as Castamir let out a mirrored sigh of disappointment and dug a hand into his trouser pocket before pulling out a gleaming Galleon and flipping it across the countertop to Professor Flitwick who snatched it from the air and tucked it into his own pocket with a smirk.

“Wha- what was that for?” Harry asked his disappointment suppressed by his curiosity for the moment.

“Well Harry, Castamir here thought that you would take a more similar approach to his own when he was first taught how to detect and discern magic. I had more faith in you and suggested you would ask for help within half an hour unlike my esteemed friend who spent the better part of a day poking and prodding at things with his wand before finally admitting he had no clue what he was doing to his teacher.” Flitwick admitted, grinning broadly at Harry’s look of shock and then laughing when Harry turned the look onto Castamir who shrugged sheepishly for a moment before laughing as well.

“So you knew I wouldn’t be able to tell anything about these things then? This was a test or something?” Harry asked, a shade of annoyance creeping into his tone as he struggled not to pout at the two older wizards who were both still grinning.

“No not at all Harry, Filius told me a little more of your ability and how it came to be and I truly did not know what you would be able to discern about the magic on the items. I’m sure Filius told you this already but Fulgomancy is different for everyone, some see things, others hear sounds, my own teacher experience magic as a sensation on his skin, needing to be almost touching the magic to detect it. I even knew a woman training to be a curse breaker who could only taste magic, Gabriella Baresi was her name, now there was a woman who could-”

“Castamir enough, the boy doesn’t need to hear about your debauched youth.” Professor Flitwick interrupted with a stern tone that was betrayed by the slight quirk of his lips as his face fought not to grin. Harry had no such problem and wore a wide smirk as the enchanter coughed and nodded to the short charms teacher.

“Aha true enough, anyway in answer to your question Harry, no I did not know if you would be able to detect the purpose of the magic or not, but it is a tradition to let the apprentice try alone first before you help them. Now tell me, what do you see when you observe these objects? In as much detail as possible please.” Castamir leaned against the counter next to him and listened intently as Harry detailed everything he could about his sight, the colours he saw, the way each person had their own unique magic, how it moved and flowed differently and how no two people had the exact same colours to him. He mentioned the symbols he could see in some magic, how some of them were fixed in place and others flowed with the magic. Everything he could think of, he described.

“Interesting, it doesn’t sound too dissimilar from my own Fulgomancy, though mine is not as broad ranging, I can only detect magic out to a few meters normally and I don’t see colours of magic so much as … waves of it.” Castamir explained after Harry had finished, nodding to himself for a moment before he gestured to the tray of items again. “The thimble, you said you could just see that it had magic cast on it, can you tell anything else from it? Is the magic moving in any way? Are there symbols? Does it make you think of anything in particular?”

Harry focussed his awareness onto the little metal thimble again and did his best to observe it, blocking everything else out as best he could. It was small, the metal pitted just like his aunt’s were, and the magic on it was a dull yellow, not bright but not too dark either. The colour didn’t change anywhere across the thimble, some magic had tones and shades running throughout, but this was solid all the way across, and it didn’t move, it didn’t flow like he had seen other magic do. It was fixed in place. Solid. Firm. Like the magic wasn’t on top of the thimble or layered across it like other enchantments. This magic was the metal. Unyielding. It was made to hold firm. To be unbreakable? No, to be unbreachable. The image of a needle slipping and piercing the soft flesh of a woman’s thumb as she sewed slipped across his mind, a bead of crimson welling up where the needle met skin.

“The thimble … it’s enchanted to stop things piercing skin?” He asked as he furrowed his brow in confusion. That was already the purpose of a thimble, why would anyone enchant a metal thimble to perform its own purpose?

“Well done! Yes it’s an odd little thing isn’t it? I bought it at an auction in Edinburgh, some old witch had a terrible fear of stabbing herself while sewing and evidently thought a metal thimble alone wasn’t enough, so she enchanted it to be unpierceable. What’s annoying is I haven’t been able to figure out the enchantment she used, its really rather good work if a little odd.” Castamir picked up the little thimble and placed it to one side. “Now how did you work it out? Was there a feeling? An image? A memory?”

“All of them I suppose? I just got this … impression from the magic, like it was hard or fixed in place and the more I thought about it the surer I was until I just got this image of a needle stabbing a woman’s finger flash across my mind.” Harry answered, elated but confused at the unerringly accurate questions.

“Excellent! You have a knack for this Harry that’s for sure. I also get impressions, but mine are a little more specific. This is good, okay quickly try with the goblets, they are more complex.” Castamir pointed to the tray again before he was interrupted by a cough from the charms professor who was holding out an open hand. “Oh alright, yes you were right again here take it and remind me to stop gambling with you.” Castamir grumbled as he once again pulled out another golden coin and handed it over to Professor Flitwick who pocketed it and nodded with a proud smile in Harry’s direction.

The goblets were more difficult, each was clearly enchanted by the same mage but the magic felt different on both. Eventually Harry was able to focus on one at a time and discern more of their properties. The silver goblet’s magic flowed strongly across its rim, slowing the deeper into the goblet it settled. There was a single symbol that he recognised swimming within the magic, the one-sided arrow shape of Laguz the rune for water and cleansing. The other symbols were beyond him but the knowledge of Laguz helped, as he studied the magic he felt a faint thirst gather in his mouth. It reminded him of the days he had spent helping his aunt in the garden in the summer before she would give him a glass of ice-cold lemonade as a reward. The image of one of those glasses gathering condensation as it sat in the sun stayed with him as he observed the goblet, but he could discern nothing else.

“Something to do with cold or ice? And water or being clean I think.” He offered pointing to the silver goblet.

“A good guess, and not far off in truth. Look at the other goblet first and then I will tell you what they both do.” Castamir replied.

The golden goblet was very different, although its magic also flowed, it flowed more slowly the higher up the side of the cup it stretched, swirling rapidly in the depths of the goblet. Harry couldn’t recognise any of the runes that covered it, but he did get an odd feeling when he watched the magic. Perhaps because of the thirst its pair had induced, the image of drinking from the golden goblet entered his mind for a moment and as it did he felt a now all too familiar tightening in his chest. His throat closed as he gasped for breath and he felt an awful bitter taste fill his mouth before the sensation fled leaving him sweating and breathing heavily on the stool.

“Deep breaths Harry, it can be a shock when you experience them for the first few times.” Castamir patted his shoulder and accepted a bottle of something from Filius, tapping the top with his wand to remove the cap before offering it to Harry’s trembling hands. “Here drink this, it will help.”

The sweet taste of butterbeer washed away the bitterness in Harry’s mouth as he took a tentative sip, followed by several larger swigs as he calmed himself, his heart slowing.

“What was that?” He asked in disgust as he leaned away from the innocent looking goblet on the tray.

“That was a curse. A nasty one, but very simple and very easy to detect. The owner of these goblets was a witch from the 1700’s, her husband was a cruel man and one day pushed her too far. She enchanted the goblets, an old anniversary present, the silver one petrifies the drinker temporarily, freezing them in place. This is where the difficulty lies because that one is not technically a curse and is done very subtly, even an experienced curse breaker could be tricked by that one Harry so don’t be disappointed. You were closer than the wizard I bought it from, he thought it chilled the liquid inside poor man. The gold goblet though, that one is all brute force, no subtlety at all. It turns any liquid inside into a potent poison that slowly paralyses the lungs so you can’t breathe properly and suffocates you until you are about to fall unconscious before relenting just enough to keep you awake and aware. Stretching it out for as long as possible. The last man who drank from it took twelve days to die, each of them an indescribable agony.” Castamir spoke the last words absently as he eyed the pair of goblets from beside Harry before shaking his head and patting him on the shoulder again. “You did very well Harry, with enough practice you’ll be able to tell what an enchantment does in just a few seconds instead of the three hours you’ve spent on these.”

Harry whipped his head around in shock at Castamir’s words, had it really been three hours? His inability to see the sun or its light meant that observing the passage of time reliably had always been a difficulty for him but he hadn’t thought that long had passed.

“Indeed, and I did promise to return you in time for supper Harry, so I’m afraid we will need to end this lesson early.” Professor Flitwick informed them as he stood from his own seat by the counter, taking a final swig from a mug that had definitely not been there when Harry was studying the thimble. “Perhaps when I bring you to Ollivanders next week we can stop by again Castamir?” The short wizard asked as he stepped around and patted the shopkeeper’s hip in farewell.

“Unfortunately I will be away until at least the middle of August, Filius. Leopold König has asked that I join him in Prague, in exchange for looking into You-Know-What I have agreed to meet him.” Castamir replied, an odd monotone to his voice.

“Ah … I apologise Castamir, when I asked you to -” Professor Flitwick turned back but was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door to the shop.

“It is fine Filius, you are a friend and I have not seen my uncle in many years, it is overdue. Now I have paying customers to see so get going, I need a way to pay for all of the mead you get through when you visit. And goodbye Harry, you really did do marvellously for your first attempt.” Castamir bid them farewell as he opened the door, letting a short woman with a toad-like face step inside after them who regarded the pair with a saccharine sweet expression, her disgustingly lurid pink magic swimming agitatedly around her.

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Professor Flitwick returned Harry to Privet Drive with a promise to collect him the following week and warning him to be careful, someone was still intercepting his letters and they could be dangerous.

His aunt had immediately noticed his change in cane but had been appeased when he told her it was only for a week, even blushing slightly when Harry told her that Professor Flitwick would be back in a week to take him into Diagon Alley again. His aunt served him his dinner early and let him head up to his room when Vernon’s car pulled into the driveway, he closed his bedroom door just in time to hear the front door slam open and Vernon bellow for food.

Harry wanted to try and practice identifying magic but quickly realised why Castamir had kept the items a secret until after Harry had already guessed their purposes; if he already knew what the magic did, he couldn’t fall into the same mindset of observing and piecing together little hints. He tried first with the enchanted quill that Castamir had sent him at the beginning of first year, but it was hard to differentiate the feelings he got from his already present knowledge of what the item did.

In the end he gave up on the exercise and laid in bed reading Spellman’s Syllabary instead, he had only been able to recognise one of the runes the whole time he had been in the Copper Artifice and he knew that they were used all across the Wizarding World. It could only be useful to know as many of them as possible, the difficulty lay in knowing which meaning of the rune was being used, each rune in Elder Futhark had at least three meanings but some had as many as ten and the author even warned that some potential meanings had likely been lost since the language’s creation.

He fell asleep late that night with the book open next to him as for the first time in several days he suffered no nightmares, only soft dreams of magic and colour beyond comprehension.

Had he been awake and looking in the right direction he might have noticed an owl soaring towards Privet Drive. He might have seen the faint flash of magic as the owl froze in mid-air only a few seconds from reaching his house, wings outstretched as it slowed itself down ready to land. He might even have seen a small floppy eared figure appear forty feet in the air beside the owl and snatch the envelope it clutched in its talons before disappearing with a quiet crack. But he wasn’t awake, and he wasn’t looking in the right direction, so no one saw the owl suddenly come back into motion, its wings flapping frantically as it did its best to stay airborne. With no letter to deliver anymore, the owl let out a mournful hoot as it turned around and began its journey back towards Oxfordshire and its owner who had tried sending letters to her friend everyday since the break began.

A\N Hey everyone, so I have a few bits of news. First, this piece is now uploaded to AO3 under the same name and the same author name, I had a request to post there as well and I had no reason not to so I’ve done it. Neither site will be getting early releases or anything like that, I will be uploading to both at the same time on the same days.

Second, I would like to ask everyone for some feedback/opinions. You can write a review or send a PM, its up to you but I’d really like to hear what you think about this. Pairings. Now I have enough of the storyline planned out that I’ve reached a point where this seems natural to occur, and there are two main options that I’m considering. I am a big fan of Daphne/Harry fics but so far that doesn’t seem likely in this, so I’m down to Susan/Harry OR Fleur/Harry. Now the Fleur/Harry pairing might seem odd but it will make more sense the deeper into the story we get, I can’t say much more without spoiling anything so I’ll leave it at that. But please let me know what you think, or if you have any other ideas for pairings that make sense to you then feel free to throw those out as well!

I will respond to all reviews by PM, I’m not a big fan of putting the replies at the beginning/end of the chapters but if you would prefer that then let me know.

And of course, a big thank you to everyone who has Favourited and Followed on FF or Kudos’ed (?) and Bookmarked on AO3, it means a lot to know so many people are enjoying my work and it’s really what keeps me going with writing this, so thank you.

I hope you’re enjoying my work, and if not then let me know what I could do differently/change!

Many thanks,

Daedalus Smythe

Chapter Text

Authors Note

Hello! I apologise for not keeping up with crossposting on here, I'll be honest I just don't use AO3 as much as I do FF.Net, but I will try to do better! I hope you enjoy, this is ported straight across but if there are any bugs or errors let me know! 

Chapter 14

Harry had never seen the night sky himself; his sight had improved a great deal in his single year of magical schooling and the range of his awareness had increased to encompass a considerable area without any effort on Harry's part. He could probably observe the entire Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts by this point if he really tried. But still, he was a long way from being able to actually observe the night sky himself, needing to rely on the descriptions he had found in books and what he had been told by others. What he had pictured after those descriptions never felt quite right. Like he had been missing some key detail, without which he could never truly envisage the majesty of it. The endless depths of it.

He didn't have that problem anymore. He knew, with a deep resounding certainty that he could feel in his bones, what the night sky looked like now. It looked like the magic hidden in the cloak.

It had taken him a few days to remember the cloak, having buried it in his trunk the Christmas day he had received it, but it had seemed a good idea to put his lesson with Castamir to the test. He had no clue as to the purpose of the clearly magical cloak, so it was an ideal test subject.

It had taken a long time to perceive anything beyond the green of his own magic that filled the weave of the cloak, glimmers of pure white dancing among the silken threads. But after many hours of studying it, letting the cold silk run across his fingers like water across stone, he found himself deeper. He was no longer sat in his chair in Privet Drive. He was floating amongst endless darkness, bright burning points of light piercing through the dark around him. Some were tiny and distant, their light faint and fading. Others were closer, blazing beacons of warmth and colour that fought against the cold dark around them. Most were a clear pure white, but a few of the brighter stars were blue, green, a couple were even orange and red. His own green magic drifted in the dark, strands of it floating around him, twisting and curling into random dizzying shapes.

Only when he began to feel exhausted did he try to leave the endless expanse, the sea of night and stars that looked so truly beautiful. Between one breath and the next he had found himself back in his bedroom, the cloak laying limp in his grasp. Each night since then, he had dreamt of the magic of it. Wondering at its purpose. For it had to be an immense one, the tapestry of magic within it, the expanse it contained, had to be a great and powerful magic.

But along with the wonder and the curiosity, a fear also filled him when he thought of the cloak. He had read about space and the stars in his youth, he had read of the freezing dark that sought to crush and extinguish life and it had terrified him then. Seeing it for himself, even with all of its beauty, brought back that same terror. So, he had wrapped it back up in the creased brown paper it had been delivered in and buried it back in the depths of his trunk. Out of sight but never far from his mind.

Terry's visit with his mother, Rachel, was a welcome distraction from the cloak and its mysteries. Petunia prepared a picnic for them, and they all took a trip to a nearby park, Dudley was invited but refused when he learned it would be with Harry and his friend, choosing to visit his friend Piers for the day instead. Harry could tell his cousin's refusal hurt his aunt, but there was little he could do about it, so he just gave her a hug and tried to cheer her up by helping with the preparations.

The trip to the park was enjoyable, he and Terry spent the afternoon munching on sandwiches and slices of cake and chatting about their summers and school. Terry had been helping his father in the apothecary he ran, his respect for Herbology had grown when he had seen the price of some of the rarer ingredients.

"You know you can never tease Nev about his love of the greenhouses now, don't you?" Harry asked as Terry carefully slipped another one of the Bakewell tarts onto his plate from the hamper on the blanket behind them. Terry had managed to swipe three of the sweet treats already, seemingly without drawing his mother or Petunia's attention, and had no intentions of stopping.

"Well," He said as he swallowed his mouthful of buttery pastry and icing. "I suppose you're right there. I never knew how much you could make from some of those plants. Dad has a box in the back of the shop, its got locks and chains on it and its just got leaves from one of those Venomous Tentacular in it. They're like fifteen galleons a leaf, its mad!"

It seemed a cheap price to Harry when he thought of the danger the ever-hungry plants could cause but he kept that to himself as he nodded.

"So Flitwick didn't say what could be causing your owl problem then?" Terry asked, his appetite sated for the moment as he took a sip of lemonade.

"No, just that it wasn't good and to be careful. He's coming back on Friday to take me back to Diagon, I need to pick up my cane and give Mr Ollivander his back." Harry replied as he patted the wooden cane that lay on the grass beside him. It was a good stick, a similar length to his own and it worked fine for feeling for changes in the ground, but it still felt odd in his grip.

"Oh yeah, I'll ask my dad what he knows about staffs and other focuses for you mate. Gran, his mum, is from an old family and she might have some books about it or something." Terry offered.

"Thanks Terry." Harry waited for his aunt to be looking away before he slipped his own Bakewell tart onto his friend's plate with a grin. "I prefer the Victoria sponge anyway."

By the time Friday came around and Professor Flitwick arrived to accompany Harry to Diagon Alley, he had become rather anxious. The longer he had been without his cane, the more he missed its familiar feel. Objectively, the canes were similar enough that there should have been little to no difference in using one over the other. But this logic didn't prevent Harry's pace from quickening as they approached Ollivander' s shop, nor his disappointment at the locked door he found when he tried to push it open. In his distracted state, he hadn't noticed the closed sign hanging in the window or, perhaps more obviously, the shining enchantments on the front of the shop. A large grid of magic, most of it a dull silver, that covered the building with symbols and smaller enchantments floating in each square of the grid.

"Ah not to worry Harry, Garrick is likely in his workshop at the back of the shop." Professor Flitwick reached forward with his wand before he stopped and settled back in place. "Actually, this is something you should learn to do anyway. There is no official name for it but most people call it 'knocking'. It's a way to inform those within a set of wards that you are outside, like knocking on a front door hence the name." Professor Flitwick explained as he motioned for Harry to draw his own wand. "Now there is no incantation for this piece of magic, it only requires a modicum of control, which you certainly possess. You just need to direct your magic to push against the ward, but you must be gentle. There is a method of breaching wards that uses a similar technique, but instead of touching the ward and withdrawing, the caster can attempt to overpower the enchantments. But I digress, now you've a talent for replicating magic you have witnessed, let's see how you do with this. Give it a go." The Charms Master gestured to the door and took a small step back.

Harry gripped his wand and settled his breathing. A small part of his mind had recognised a few months before that when he used the breathing exercises Professor Flitwick had taught him, his magic would not only flow more easily but strands of it would escape from his skin and writhe in the air, forming shapes and brushing against things around him. The thought had barely formed in his mind when his magic rushed to his wand and burst from the tip in a wave of rippling light. The wave rolled across the short distance between his wand and the door before it met the enchantments that lay across the front of the building. The two magics met with a brief flash as his own magic was immediately dispersed by the grid of magic, one of the symbols on the door glowed brighter for a moment as the ward seemed to tense, like a net pulled taught, before it relaxed again.

"Not bad Harry, not bad at all. That should have caught Garrick's attention." Flitwick patted Harry on the back and only a few seconds later the wandmaker appeared from the depths of his shop, tapping the door with his wand to open it and let them in.

"Excellent timing Mr Potter, Filius. Come in, I will just grab her from the workshop." Ollivander disappeared into the bowels of the building, winding a path between towering piles of wand boxes, before returning with a long black box in his hands. He laid it upon the counter and stepped back with a wide grin on his face, his silver magic whipping excitedly around him. "Well go on, open it up. Tell me what you think."

Harry leant the borrowed cane against the counter and lifted the lid from the box to reveal its contents. Inside was a dark cushioned lining and resting upon the silk was his stave. It looked to be a little longer than when he had handed it to the wandmaker a week before, at least four feet tall now. It was a little thicker, but still only an inch and a half across at most, not like Moody's staff which was at least twice that. The wood was a deep brown and covered in decorative engravings, they were carved deeply enough that Harry could make out most of the detailing. The engravings ran from the bottom of the cane almost all the way to the top, carved to look like vines that stretched up the length of the cane. And hidden, tucked away and disguised to look like part of the decorations, were runes. He didn't recognise any of them, but he could tell they were runes, their shape and form almost whispered to him, he decided then and there that he would definitely be studying more on Ancient Runes, they were just too useful not to learn more about them. The head of the cane had been left relatively unchanged, it still ended with a rounded top but now there were five faintly carved grooves circling the top six inches of the cane, and between each groove were more runes.

Harry had just brushed his fingers across the wood, feeling the carved ridges and furrows in the wood when he heard Ollivander exhale noisily and when he turned to look at the wandmaker he was surprised to see the man looked annoyed.

"Pick it up Mr Potter. Hold it, this is the first stave I've made in nearly thirty years, and only the second I've made at all." Ollivander gestured at the cane that still lay in its box as he leaned forward eagerly. Harry couldn't help but grin at the man acting so childlike and turned back to the box with the remnants of the smile lingering on his face.

He reached across and let his fingers rest on the cool wood for a brief moment before he gripped it and lifted it clear of the counter. The moment his hand closed around it; he immediately noticed his magic acting differently. Much like when he gripped his wand, his magic was moving into the cane, his green magic bleeding into the red and brown of the cane. There was no sudden gout of magical flame and wind like with his wand when he first moved the cane, no sudden light or crash of thunder. No, when he moved his cane, his staff, it felt very different. His wand had always felt eager in his grip, keen to perform magic with him, but the stave felt … heavier. Like the difference between a ball-peen hammer and a sledgehammer. Or a keyboard and a grand piano. Both could theoretically do the same thing, but in practice one took more control, more finesse, more practice. There was no visible magic when he moved his cane, but when he brought it to rest against the ground there was an audible thud, as if something far heavier than a simple wooden cane had come to rest against the ground.

Evidently this was not unexpected as Ollivander didn't seem disappointed by the lack of visible reaction, instead he clapped his hands gleefully, his magic whipping frenziedly around him as a wide smile grew on his face.

"Oho excellent, I knew you could do it Mr Potter. Subtle but potent, a formidable combination." The wandmaker clapped again before he settled back down, the grin still plastered on his face. "Now as I'm sure you remember; your wand contains a phoenix feather as its core. Well for a stave the components are usually similar if not identical to the wielder's wand components. Same core and same wood. In your case I had to make a slight change; the phoenix who gave their feather for your wand only gave one other and that wand has been missing for a decade. I tried a different phoenix's feather, but there was no harmony to be found there. In the end I had to test almost a dozen different cores before I found a match for your magic and the stave's wood. Rowan and Ursa fur, 48 inches and unyielding. You are lucky, I don't collect the rarer ingredients anymore. The fur in your wand is from a trip I made in my youth to Foloi Forest in Greece, I was very lucky to find it."

"Ursa fur? I didn't know you could use that as a wand core?" Professor Flitwick asked in interest as he cast a curious gaze at the cane in Harry's hand.

"As a wand core? No, but the rules are different for a stave, and this is some of my finest work." The wandmaker seemed to be very proud of his work and hadn't taken his eyes from it since Harry had grasped it. "Now remember, a stave is not like a wand. You will need to practice for several years before you can wield any magic through it, the level of control, of focus required is far greater than with a wand. Filius knows someone who uses a stave and I'm sure they will be able to give you some pointers."

"Thank you, Mr Ollivander, it really is a beautiful cane." Harry said as the wandmaker opened the door for them, a fresh smile appearing on the older mans face at his words.

While the lack of letters to and from his friends still bothered Harry, the daily telephone calls with Terry helped a great deal. Terry would pass on any news from their other friends and any messages they had and would pass any messages or news back from Harry as well. It wasn't ideal but it worked and the connection to his friends helped dull the sense of loss and loneliness he felt at Privet Drive.

When Terry told Harry that he had received his Hogwarts letter with the booklist for their second year, he began to worry. If no letters could reach him, how would he return to Hogwarts? The ticket for the Express was included in the letter and without his ticket he couldn't get onto the train, it said so in Hogwarts A History. Terry did his best to calm him down, reassuring him that Professor Flitwick wouldn't let that happen to him, but he hadn't seen or heard from the Professor since he had taken him to pick up his cane. Terry, Susan, Hannah and Neville had all arranged to go to Diagon Alley a few days after their letters had been delivered and invited Harry to join them. He had agreed but without a letter his fears and doubts began to re-emerge.

The morning of the arranged trip he sat despondent at the table as Petunia tried to encourage him to eat. He had just swallowed the last of his toast when there was a heavy crashing noise at the door quickly followed by two more loud thuds. If Harry hadn't heard Vernon's car already leave, he might have thought the heavy man had fallen down the stairs and caused the sound.

Harry and Petunia both stood and made their way into the hallway to see the front door hanging on one hinge as it leant precariously against the wall, the lock broken, and wood splintered across the floor. Stood with one massive hand still raised as if to knock on the now broken door was the familiar figure of Hagrid, a sheepish expression on his face as he saw them step into view.

"Ah…sorry 'bout the door Harry, Mrs Dursley. I'll fix it I promis'." The mammoth of a man pulled a pink frilly umbrella from within his overcoat and prodded the broken door with the wooden tip. Harry had witnessed Hagrid perform magic in this way a handful of times and it always confused him, the way Hagrid's magic moved through the umbrella reminded him a little of the way Neville's old wand had looked. The magic struggling to travel the length of the umbrella smoothly, building and slowing at different points like a river would struggle to flow around large rocks. But, like a river, the magic did eventually flow around the obstacles and the broken door lifted back into place, the splintered wood reforming into a whole and unbroken doorframe.

There was an awkward moment as Harry realised Hagrid was still on the other side of the door and it was now closed between them, but his aunt quickly composed herself and opened the repaired door for the groundskeeper.

"You must be Mr Hagrid?" She asked as the huge man leaned down slightly so his head filled part of the doorway, he was too big to actually step inside the doorway so settled for filling it with his bulk.

"Aye, Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys an' the grounds of Hogwarts. But you can jus' call me Hagrid, everybody does." The giant man smiled from behind his bushy beard and Petunia seemed to relax, Harry had told her of the friendly groundskeeper but seeing him in person for the first time was likely a shock.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Hagrid, Harry has told me lots about you. Thank you for being a friend to him, I know he appreciates it and so do I." Petunia reached out and tentatively patted the man's arm as the groundskeeper blushed and waved her thanks away.

"It ain't nothing, he's a good lad. Speakin' of, I have somethin' for you Harry." Hagrid reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope, the small cream rectangle looked comically small in his dustbin lid sized hand as he held it carefully between his thumb and forefinger. "Pr'fessor Flitwick asked me to deliver it to you, somethin' about your letters goin' missin'?"

The relief Harry felt when he saw the letter was evident, his whole body straightening as if some unseen weight had been lifted from him as he rushed forward to accept the envelope from Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid! It's here Aunty, I can go back to Hogwarts!" He cried as he hugged his aunt.

"Go back to Hogwarts? Of cours' you can, there'd be a riot if you weren't there Harry." Hagrid smiled at the pair of them and waited for Harry to step back from his aunt before he spoke again. "Now, Pr'fessor Flitwick asked if I could take you into Diagon Alley, said you were meeting friends there to do yer shoppin'?"

It only took Harry a few minutes to rush upstairs and change, throwing his wand holster on over his shirt as he came back down the stairs to find Hagrid leaning next to the still open door sipping tea from a mug that looked ridiculously small in his grip. Petunia was stood waiting for Harry with his cane in her hand and handed it to him when he hugged her goodbye.

"Now be careful and do everything Hagrid tells you to Harry and have fun." She kissed his head and took Hagrid's now empty cup back as the large man waved goodbye.

Hagrid led Harry out onto the street and, after looking around to check no one was nearby, pulled out his umbrella again and pointed it out into the street for a moment. He held it there for a few seconds before he tucked it back into his voluminous leather coat and then turned to Harry with a slightly drawn expression.

"We'll be takin' the Knight Bus to the Cauldron Harry. I should warn ya, its not a comfortable ride but it's quick and safe…" The sudden whoosh of displaced air muffled the end of Hagrid's speech, but Harry was fairly sure Hagrid had added "supposedly" to the end of that. Any response Harry might have given was lost at the sight of the Knight Bus in front of them. A waft of steam drifted from the painted metal exterior as the doors opened but Harry couldn't focus on the conductor, he was too drawn by the swirling rainbow of colours that filled and surrounded the bus.

While Hogwarts remained the most enchanted and powerful thing he had ever seen, it's enchantments were almost entirely woven of green, blue, yellow and red threads, a testament to the Founders incredible skill and strength. The enchantments on Hogwarts, while they had been supplemented over the centuries by Headmaster's and Headmistresses, remained largely unchanged due to the nigh-unparalleled power the Founders had wielded that left them so far beyond what most ordinary wizards and witches could perform. The Knight Bus was an example of the most common ways to get around the gap between the average wizard and such mages, instead of one or two powerful mages enchanting it, the Knight Bus looked to have been enchanted by at least a dozen different witches and wizards at the same time. A multitude of coloured threads, all woven together to achieve something no single one of them could have accomplished alone. It was a dazzling display of magic and Harry could have stood watching it for hours.

"Er…you coming Harry?" Hagrid asked from the open door of the bus, the suspension creaking at his weight as he stepped inside. Harry quickly followed and after Hagrid had handed the conductor, a tall thin man named Stanley Shunpike, a few coins, they made their way halfway down the bus until they found a few comfy looking armchairs that were available just behind a queen size bed. The moment they sat down, Hagrid's chair expanding magically to fit his larger frame, the bus was on the move with a loud band.

Their chairs slid back at the sudden start and the magic that surrounded the bus grew brighter, pushing other cars on the road out of the way or expanding the space between them so that the large bus could wind its blistering path along the roads. They had stropped twice before the conductor let them know they were on their way to London, Hagrid had just waved the man away as he covered his mouth and breathed deeply. The big man had grown pale as soon as the bus had started moving and with every sharp turn or close call with another vehicle (or building!), more and more sweat had formed on his face.

"Next stop, Leaky Cauldron, thirty seconds!" The conductor shouted from the front of the bus, swaying easily with the erratic movements of the bus as he chatted with the older man driving. As the bus came to a screeching halt, Harry and Hagrid's chairs scraped across the floor for several feet before they too stopped, and Hagrid staggered to the doors, all but collapsing onto the street outside.

Harry followed a little slower, but he was eager to leave the remarkably sickening vehicle as well. Once Harry was clear of the doors, they snapped shut and with a whistle and another loud bang, the bus was gone, the only trace was the faint smell of burning rubber and a few still smoking tyre tracks on the road.

"I'm sorry Harry, I really can't stand tha' ruddy thing. Worse than the carts in Gringotts." Hagrid muttered as he shook his head and took several deep breaths. "Righ', in we go then."

The Leaky Cauldron looked to have been built sometime in the early 1600's and hadn't been updated much since then, it was all wonky wooden beams and uneven bricks. But it was warm and, despite the slightly intimidating looking group of goblins sat at a dark table in the corner, it was a welcoming place. The barman, Tom, was a hunched bald man but was friendly enough and greeted Hagrid loudly, already halfway through pouring a heavy looking tankard before Hagrid could explain that he was there for business.

Hagrid ushered Harry out the back of the pub and into the small, enclosed rear where he showed him the key bricks to tap that triggered the entrance to form, the brick wall rippling and grinding as it opened to reveal Diagon Alley with a small shower of brick dust.

Hagrid led Harry down the middle of the main thoroughfare, and it didn't take long for him to hear Terry's cry of recognition.

"Harry, over here mate!" Terry called from beside a short man, his father Harry guessed as they had the same hair and nose.

"Hey Terry, are we the first ones here?" Harry asked as he gave his friend a one-armed hug.

"Yeah I think so, the girls said they'd meet us near Gringotts, I think Nev is tagging along with them but I'm not sure." Terry was interrupted by a gentle cough from the man beside him, though he wore a smile and didn't seem annoyed by his son's lack of manners. "Oh er sorry, Harry this is my dad, dad this is Harry. And Hagrid, but you know him already."

"It's nice to meet you Mr Potter, Terry's not stopped talking about you since he came home, and I know my wife has become friends with your aunt as well?"

"Hi Mr Boot, its nice to meet you too. Yeah, they talk a lot on the phone I guess." Harry felt nervous at meeting his friend's father, but the man seemed quite affable and his mannerisms reminded Harry a lot of Terry.

"Oh don't call me that, Mr Boot is my father, no Robert will be fine. Now if I'm not mistaken, I believe I have just seen your friend Mr Longbottom and his guardian." Mr Boot pointed towards the steps of Gringotts, it was near the limits of Harry's awareness but he could just make out the familiar magic of Neville and next to him was a tall older woman wearing a large hat with what seemed to be a vulture perched atop it.

It turned out to be very helpful having Hagrid with them as the groundskeeper's immense height meant he was visible from anywhere in the Alley, so it didn't take long for Neville and his grandmother to join them just outside Ollivanders' shop.

"Nice to finally meet you Mr Potter, Neville has told me plenty about you. I am glad he has found a friend in you, his mother and yours were good friends at school and had things been…different you would likely have grown up together." Madam Longbottom gripped Harry's hand tightly in her own as he shook it and peered closely at his face. Although his glasses covered the worst of the scars, he knew the edges were still visible and he couldn't stop himself from frowning slightly to try to obscure them more. He stopped when Madam Longbottom tightened her grip on his hand slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to notice. "You shouldn't hide your scars Mr Potter, they are a mark of honour. They show the trials we face and overcome. They are lessons, each and every one."

Harry felt his hand tingle as he gripped his cane, the scarring across it had healed a little more in his time at home but it was still visible, the skin tight and waxen across his palm and fingers.

"I agree Augusta, but perhaps you could release young Mr Potter so his friends can greet him properly?" A stern voice sounded from behind the older woman who straightened and stepped back from him with a small smile.

"Hello Amelia, its lovely to see you again, I had thought you would be busy with the searches we approved yesterday?" Madam Longbottom turned to face the three other figures who had approached, Susan and Hannah were accompanied by a woman with dark red hair pulled back into a bun, a monocle hung from the lapel of her robes as she stepped forward to kiss Neville's grandmother's cheek. Both women had strong magic, their colour's deep and bright, Madam Longbottom's was a dark green with swathes of brown like Neville's and Madam Bones' magic was red and yellow, twined together, it looked like fire flowed through her body.

Harry was quickly engulfed in a tight hug from Susan and then a quicker one from Hannah as the group of friends all reunited, being able to talk through letters (and Terry) was no substitute for the real thing.

Once they had all greeted each other and exchanged any recent news, they began their shopping trip. Harry still had most of the gold he had withdrawn the previous summer and the others had a guardian or parent to pay for them, so they began with a trip to Madam Malkins. All five of them needed new robes having grown since their first year so they all had to be measured again, but as they were the only ones in the shop, they were able to get the new robes quickly and Madam Malkin kindly offered to hold onto the packages until they were finished with the rest of their shopping.

Then it was onto the Owl Emporium; Neville's toad, Trevor, needed some wart-remover and Susan and Hannah both had owls, so they wanted to pick up some treats for them. Harry had never been inside the emporium, he had no pet and so had no need to visit, but he had heard the animals whenever he walked past. The hooting and screeching of various birds, the yips and barks of Crup's and all manner of other sounds and cries.

The interior of the shop was much as Harry had expected; various birds were kept in cages at the front of the shop, with larger or more exotic animals being kept further back. As Neville spoke with the shopkeeper about Trevor (his grandmother had elected to remain outside the busy and loud shop) Harry made his way deeper into the building, past the small kennel with a handful of Crup puppies and up to the back wall where various magical creatures were kept in glass containers.

There were a few six-legged lizards in one container, all sat around a little stack of sticks that burned slowly, their magic was red and orange and rippled from the flames along their bodies. It was quite entrancing, and Harry spent several seconds watching them, intrigued by the way they drew from the fire, their own colours growing brighter as the fire dimmed slightly and vice versa.

Beside the strange fire-lizards were a collection of reptiles, snakes and other lizards of all sorts in different containers. One of these containers held a few green lizards that began to shrink as Harry stepped closer, growing smaller and smaller until they were barely the size of a beetle. Another held a collection of horned toads that all inflated in unison before letting out a surprisingly harmonious croak, like an old church organ.

The last glass cases held snakes. Some long and camouflaged with greens and browns, others were smaller and brightly coloured, vibrant yellow and red and blue to deter predators. One case held a single grey snake with three dark eggs, veins of burning crimson pulsing through the shells.

Of all the animals in the shop, Harry hadn't expected the reptile section to be the loudest. But it was. The snakes and some of the lizards were hissing sibilant whispering cries, asking for food, for warmth, for water.

Harry hadn't heard an animal speak for several years, but back when his sight had been first developing, he had found a little grass snake in the garden. It had been a shock to him when he had found it and understood its pleas not to crush its eggs. He had no intention of breaking any eggs and had told the snake so, not quite believing it when the snake had thanked him and slithered back into the hedge it had come from. Over the following months he had had several short conversations with the snake before it had moved on to find greener pastures.

He was jolted from his introspection when a hand clapped him on the back, and he realised Neville was finished and had joined him.

"All okay Harry?" Neville asked as he looked at the array of reptiles in front of them, his experience as a gardener and Herbologist meant he had little fear for creatures such as these.

"Yeah, just thinking…you got what you needed for Trevor?" Harry asked as they turned away and made their way back out into the warm street where the others were waiting for them.

Neville nodded as they were led towards the bookshop further up the alley, only to find that a bustling crowd had gathered, overflowing from the shop and into the street. There were dozens of witches and even a few wizards filling the store, all clamouring and pushing to try and get inside.

"Lockhart is doing a signing apparently, I doubt we'll get in there anytime today with that crowd." Robert Boot explained as they gave the bulging mass of people a wide berth. Susan and Hannah began whispering and giggling at the mention of Lockhart, but Madam Longbottom scoffed and muttered under her breath at the name.

"Well, we could go to the shop Professor Flitwick took me for first year?" Harry suggested, he had little interest in attempting to navigate the crowds in Flourish & Blotts.

"Where did Professor Flitwick take you, Mr Potter?" Madam Bones asked, as she did her best to steer Susan and Hannah away from the busy shop.

"Um you can just call me Harry Madam Bones, it was Obscurus Books? They had Braille copies of all the schoolbooks for me." Harry gestured to his face as he explained his need for the alternative books.

"I know Obscurus Books, its near the entrance to Knockturn Alley." Madam Longbottom added as they began to walk away from the busy shop, the street falling quiet as they left the crowd behind.

"Oh well er' I actually was hopin' to pop into Knockturn, I need some Flesh-Eatin' Slug Pellets for the pumpkin patches." Hagrid shrugged at Madam Bones' unimpressed look and coughed awkwardly before adding. "But I can always get 'em later I s'pose."

Perhaps predictable, Obscurus Books was empty, so they had no trouble finding most of the books they needed. However, when it came to the lengthy collection of books by Gilderoy Lockhart that was on all of their lists, they encountered some difficulty.

"I don't sell Lockhart's rubbish." The pale owner sneered at the request from Robert, his voice cold and unfriendly. "I sell books you can learn from, books that contain real knowledge. Not that blonde ponce's tripe."

"Hey!" "He's a hero!" Susan and Hannah both shouted in Lockhart's defence at the owner's words.

"Enough!" Madam Longbottom shouted, silencing the girls who looked ready to attack the pale owner. "The children's book lists include the…blonde ponce's works and Harry here recommended you to us. Is there anything else you could do?"

Harry was surprised she had mentioned him but stepped away from the bookcase filled with Braille texts and nodded to the owner.

"I don't know if you remember but I came here last year? With Professor Flitwick?"

"I remember, Master Flitwick is wise enough to know that you would struggle to find somewhere else in the alley that sells as many Braille texts as I do." The man stood from his stool and leaned forward slightly, peering at Harry before he nodded to himself. "I am Jonathan Edgewick, Mr Potter, it is a pleasure to officially meet you. I might be able to source a few copies of Lockhart's drivel, but I should warn you, it really is a load of dragon dung."

Madam Longbottom arranged the details with Mr Edgewick and they were assured that Lockhart's books would be delivered to their homes by owl before the first of September, the rest of the textbooks were easily found and Harry was even able to find a few extra-curricular books to read in his free time.

As they stepped out of the shop, Terry tugged on Harry's sleeve and pointed down the alley to their left, past the sign that lead into the Knockturn Alley Hagrid had wanted to visit. Walking out of the alley was the recognisable figure of Draco Malfoy, and beside him what could only be his father. Tall with long blonde hair and pointed features, Lucius Malfoy cut an intimidating figure in his expensive robes. He walked with a very slight limp and used a black cane, sparks flying with every step as the metal endcap scraped the cobbles. His magic was a dark purple with larges splotches of black that swam beneath the purple, jagged edges forming and then fading before they could breach the surface. Something about him, about his magic, made Harry tremble for a moment. He didn't seem outwardly aggressive, his demeanour calm, even pleasant as he nodded in greeting to another man he passed, but his magic roiled constantly, anger and the promise of pain waiting beneath the calm exterior.

But then he was past them, striding quickly towards the crowds and Flourish & Blotts despite the slight hitch to his step. Harry couldn't help the quiet sigh of relief as the pair disappeared into the jumble of colours and bodies outside the bookshop and allowed himself to be distracted by the mention of ice cream by Hagrid.

"It'll be a birthday treat for Harry, it's on me." Hagrid said as he herded the group towards the parlour at the top of the alley near the Leaky Cauldron. Madam Longbottom put up a token protest but caved to Neville's pleas quickly and Susan's aunt didn't even attempt that, just nodding at the pleading looks from Susan and Hannah.

As they crossed the street to enter Fortescue's Parlour, there was a sudden wave of shouts from behind them as the crowd in front of Flourish & Blotts split to reveal Draco's father and another man spill onto the cobbles, both stood quickly and seemed unhurt and eager to continue until Madam Bones stalked over to them. Harry was too far away to hear her words, but the sudden change in both men's postures was enough to tell him that the fight was probably over and she joined them at their table a few minutes later. Her scowl disappeared as she saw them all struggling not to laugh at Hagrid who had managed to get a remarkable amount of strawberry ice cream in his beard.

AN Hey everyone, apologies for the brief delay on this one, I was in an accident recently that meant I had to put this aside to deal with real world stuff. But I'm back now!

WOW! Nearly 500 followers and over 300 favourites! Thank you all for supporting and reading my work, I'm glad (and amazed) so many of you are enjoying it!

A few little morsels of lore and backstory dropped in this one, just enough to whet your appetites. As I have said before, the story will be diverging more from Canon as time passes, and there are other changes that will affect how things go.

I really like Lucius Malfoy's character and I think it could have been made so much more menacing than the frankly pathetic character we see in the books/movies (although I love Jason Isaacs and his acting is phenomenal) so he will be ONE of the big villains of this work.

Please continue to review, follow and favourite the story if you enjoy it, and if you don't then let me know why.

Many thanks,

Daedalus Smythe

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

The rest of the summer break flew by, Harry spent most of the remaining fortnight reading through the new schoolbooks he had bought. He was surprised by the books assigned for Defence Against the Dark Arts, it was the only subject that had set more than one book and none of the books by this Lockhart fellow had any real instruction in them. They read more like adventure books than anything else, he couldn't deny that they were interesting reads but at the end of 'Holidays with Hags' he didn't learn anything useful on how to avoid or defend against Hags, in fact he couldn't find a single spell that was named in any of the books. Eventually he had packed them away in his trunk and focussed on the other books he had bought; the Charms and Transfiguration books were far more interesting anyway.

His only break from this was when Professor Flitwick had arrived unannounced to collect him for the lunch with Percival and Alastor that he had forgotten about. After a brief round of greetings, he and the professor had left and after a short walk down the street, they had disapparated from Little Whinging.

They appeared on a mundane looking country lane, bordered by thick green hedges and a few scattered trees. Behind them the lane continued beyond Harry's sight but ahead of them the path came to an abrupt halt at a pair of ornate wrought iron gates. The gates seemed to hum and vibrate gently as they approached and the bubble of magic that stretched up and around from them shivered in tandem, rippling waves of colour and light expanding up and away from the gate.

They stood in front of the gates for less than a minute before they swung outwards silently, and as they did, they revealed what the enchantments on and around the gates were for. Where before there was just a field and a small abandoned looking farm behind the gates, now stood two large buildings and behind them a sprawling orchard. The first and central building was clearly an old building, made of wooden beams and weathered bricks it looked sturdy and comfortable. The second and slightly smaller building looked to be an old stable of some kind, though there were no animals in the open stalls that he could see.

"Filius! About time, I was about to send a search party for you." The cheerful voice of Percival echoed from the left of the stable and as they walked in that direction, they found a round wooden table set out on the grass beside a large pond and already sat with drinks in hand were the familiar figures of Percival and Alastor.

"Afternoon Potter, Filius, all fine collecting the boy?" The Auror Captain asked, his signature dragonskin overcoat was draped over his chair, his sleeves rolled up to reveal thick scarred arms. He looked out of place sat next to Percival who's own shirt was open to the sun, a wide smile on his youthful face as he gestured to the two empty wooden deck chairs on the other side of the table.

"Hello Alastor, Percival. Yes Alastor, it was a struggle, but I was able to retrieve Harry all alone." Professor Flitwick jibed as he took a seat on one of the chairs, a firm cushion appearing beneath him so that he sat high enough to reach across the table and retrieve a glass of amber coloured liquid. Percival snickered at the comment, hiding his grin behind his own glass when Alastor shot him a look before the older Auror let out his own snort and shook his head.

"Sorry Filius, just thought you might have needed a hand." Alastor took a sip of his drink, a fizzing blue liquid. "But I suppose as long as there weren't any Hags you should have been fine."

This time Percival couldn't even attempt to hide his laughter as a spray of liquid shot from his mouth as he cackled in his seat. Professor Flitwick didn't react except to tap the table with his wand and clean the spilt drink as a small sigh slipped from his lips.

"I had hoped Castamir would be able to keep that to himself." He muttered as he took a long drink from his glass and shook his head as Percival's laughter slowly stopped.

"Erm I'm sorry Professor but, what exactly is a Hag?" Harry asked as he took a sip from his own glass, it was filled with a refreshing lemonade that was just the right combination of sharp and sweet. His question provoked a few new chuckles from Percival, but Alastor seemed surprised by it.

"They don't cover dangerous creatures in first year Defence anymore?" He asked and as Professor Flitwick remained quiet, Harry took that as a sign to reply to the question.

"Well, we covered the Ogroids, like Trolls and Giants, and then we did a little bit on Vampires and Ghosts, but then we covered curses and jinxes after that." He explained with a shrug.

"Hmph, well at least you know about some of them I suppose." The Auror took another sip from his bubbly blue drink and let out a satisfied sigh before he started to speak again. "Well, Hags are a tricky one. There's been some debate over them for several centuries now, much like Vampires and Werewolves a Hag usually starts out like a normal witch. There are two ways to become a Hag; you can be born of a Hag and thus you grow to become one or, and this is the method they're better known for, a Hag or a coven of them will sometimes make deals with people. Often, they will provide a service, cure an ailment or reveal some unknown information, but in exchange they require an offering. They take a young girl, no older than five, and they raise the child themselves. The girl will grow to be an ordinary witch, though they are said to always be very beautiful, and once they are of age they leave their home in search of a … partner. They lure in the partner and they have a child with them, and then once the child is born they transform into a Hag. They have no choice in the matter, it's a powerful curse much like Lycanthropy, they are forced to do all of this. To fall in love and have a child, and then they transform forever, usually killing the father, and take the babe with them to be raised and repeat the cycle."

"But… to become a Werewolf you have to be bitten right? So do the Hag's bite the baby or something?" Harry asked as he tried to understand the nature of the creatures he had heard mentioned but never seen.

"No lad," Alastor shook his head sadly. "There have been a few occasions where the child was recovered only moments after the Hag has taken them, deals are dangerous things and magic doesn't like when they are broken so a family allowed the Hag to take the child but then swiftly killed the Hag and recovered the child. It was a famous case in Europe not that long ago, anyway they took the girl to the best Healers in the world, and all agreed she was perfectly healthy. Sixteen years later the girl fell in love with a local farmhand and bore his child, as soon as it was born, she transformed, killed her parents and the farmhand, and left with the baby." Harry couldn't help the shudder that ran up his spine at the story.

"They sound awful, I don't get it. If they're so terrible, why is it so funny that Professor Flitwick was surprised by them? He still beat them, didn't he?" Harry asked, he never wanted to encounter such creatures if he could help it. He was surprised when it was Percival that answered him this time.

"Hags are dangerous if you aren't expecting them its true, their particular brand of magic excels at ambushing and creating traps. They can create nearly undetectable runic hexes that distort your senses, and the stronger covens can even stop other magic from working within their hexes. In terms of actual combat though, Hags are limited, their magic allows them to conjure fire and they have wicked claws and teeth, but against a skilled wizard they will usually retreat. However, your teacher is one of the finest duellists to come out of Hogwarts in the last century, Filius won several tournaments in Europe, none of us doubt his skill. It is precisely because we know how dangerous Filius is that we find it laughable that he was waylaid by Hags, even a coven of them." Percival explained gently.

"Oh…wow." Harry sipped on his drink as Alastor changed the subject and asked about how long food would be. Much of the conversation blurred around him after that revelation and he spent most of the lunch picturing the Charms Master duelling other wizards, though by the end of the lunch the diminutive figure of the professor had been replaced by a taller figure with a cane in one hand and a wand in the other as he conjured great storms of fire and ice to defeat his opponents.

Much like the previous year, Harry was awoken early on the morning of September 1st, as his aunt once again helped him carry his trunk downstairs and after handing him a wrapped parcel of food for the journey, she once again bid him a teary farewell as the taxi driver (a different man this time) set off. It was bittersweet for Harry to once again be leaving his aunt for another nine months, he knew she was often lonely in the house and though she had cheered up this summer with regular visits from Terry's mother, he worried for her. But the worry was tempered by the knowledge that there was little he could do to help, at least not until he was older and more able, so he pushed the worries from his mind and settled in for the drive into London.

He arrived with time to spare and took his time walking through the crowds to get to the barrier between platforms nine and ten, he had grown taller over the summer but he was still most of a foot shorter than the other passengers milling around the station floor and he was once again glad for his own particular sense of awareness as he doubted normal vision would have helped him see much with the crowds that morning. He was so preoccupied with his musings on his sight and the crowds that he didn't notice the odd flickering of the barrier's magic until he had collided with the very solid brick wall and bounced off of it, drawing a few strange looks from the passers-by. A few stopped to help him and he had to spend several minutes assuring a kindly older lady that he was just waiting for his group to meet and that no he wasn't lost.

Once he had fended off the attentions of the other passengers, he spent several minutes stood next to the barrier that should have allowed him access to Platform 9 ¾ and what he found confused him. The barrier's magic was trying to open for him, he could see it, the seam that should have split to allow him entry to the hidden platform was bulging and straining against some invisible force that prevented it from opening. If it wasn't stopping him from reaching his train, he would have been intrigued by the magical force that he couldn't perceive that was strong enough to block a decades old enchantment, as it was, he just found himself growing annoyed by it.

"Harry? You okay mate?" He heard from behind him and as the crowds split, he noticed that Terry had approached along with his mother, and both were staring at him and the conspicuously solid wall he was leaning against.

"Ah hello Terry, hello Mrs Boot. Well, it looks like I'm a bit stuck Terry, the barrier isn't opening for me." Harry explained as he shifted his cane nervously in his grip. His nervousness only worsened when Terry reached out a hand and pressed it against the solid brick wall of the barrier, unable to pass through as he should have been.

"Um that's weird, it's definitely not meant to do that is it?" Terry asked, though Harry wasn't sure if it was aimed at him or Mrs Boot.

"No dear, I'm fairly sure it's not." Mrs Boot said as she looked around and shook her head before she gestured to the two of them. "Follow me, we'll have to head to the Leaky Cauldron, you should be able to Floo up to Hogsmeade from there."

The Boot's lived a life in two worlds; Terry's father owned and ran an apothecary in Oxford while his mother was a teacher at a local school, she had a small car and it was a bit of a squeeze to fit the three of them and two large trunks into the car but they managed. After a short drive to Charing Cross, they made their way to the bland exterior of the Leaky Cauldron, it took Harry and Terry a few minutes to help Mrs Boot through the Muggle Repelling wards on the old pub but soon they were inside and she was able to shake the enchantments off.

Harry had heard mention of Floo travel and knew the basic principle of how it worked but reading about something and seeing someone step out of a sudden blaze of green fire, their magic swirling and forming into an outline that stepped suddenly solid from the fireplace, was a very different thing. A part of him wanted to take a seat and watch for a few more patrons to use the remarkable method of transportation, it was incredible to think that you could use fire and a sympathetic link between fireplaces to allow for near instantaneous travel, whoever had created the system was a genius.

"Harry?" He jolted in surprise at the greeting and turned with a smile.

"Castamir!" He cried as the taller man weaved between the tables and stopped in front of the three of them. His beard was a little longer and he was wearing a long cloak that covered most of his body, but his magic was unmistakeable.

"What are you doing here Harry? It's- " A flick of his wrist and a silver pocket watch swung into his palm with a light smack, a quick glance and then another flick and the watch disappeared into the depths of the cloak. "The Express will have left by now, what happened?"

"Harry dear, I take it you know this man?" Mrs Boot asked, she didn't seem outwardly nervous but the way her hand was gripped tightly onto Terry's shoulder led him to think she was just good at hiding it.

"Oh yes, don't worry Mrs Boot, this is Castamir, he's a friend of Professor Flitwick's. Castamir this is Mrs Boot and Terry, they found me at the barrier in Kings Cross, it wouldn't let us through, and brought me here so we could take the Floo to Hogwarts." Harry explained as he hurriedly introduced the man to his friends mother.

"Oh you're the guy who made Harry's cool quill right?" Terry asked as Mrs Boot shook Castamir's hand.

"Ah yes that is one mine, and you must be Terry, yes? Harry has mentioned you several times. Now you need to get to Hogwarts? Well, you can't Floo there, the wards only allow for outgoing travel and even then, only to certain locations." Castamir led them away from the doorway of the Leaky Cauldron as a few more patrons entered.

"Yes I remember but Robert has taken the Floo to Hogsmeade before and it's a short walk from there to the school isn't it?" Mrs Boot twisted her hands before she continued in a whisper. "I can't apparate them and this was all I could think of."

Castamir nodded and patted her on the arm, clearly understanding her meaning.

"If your husband has taken the Floo before then you know you won't be able to go with them, the Floo network uses one's own magic as the fuel for the travel." Mrs Boot nodded at Castamir's words.

"I know, but I had hoped I would recognise someone here or there might have been a way to get a message to Hogwarts. Harry said you know Professor Flitwick, could you contact him?" She asked as the fireplace burst into light and cool heat as another patron appeared from the flames and strode to the bar.

"It would be quicker to Floo to Hogsmeade and walk to the Castle, I would make a Portkey but the Ministry are already displeased with me. I could escort the boys to Hogwarts though?" Castamir offered.

"You say Castamir is a friend of Professor Flitwick's Harry? Well alright, I'll be sending a letter to Professor Flitwick to make sure the boys make it there safe though." Mrs Boot warned Castamir who grinned and nodded.

"Certainly Mrs Boot, I can take them through now if you would like?"

"Send me a letter tonight to let me know you're there safe, I will send a letter to Professor Flitwick explaining what happened and to expect you. Be good and learn lots." She kissed Terry's cheek and then surprised Harry by sweeping him up in a quick hug as well. "I will let your aunt know what happened but I'm sure she will want a letter from you as well Harry."

"Right, have either of you ever used Floo powder before?" Castamir asked as they stepped up to the wider than normal fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron.

"I used it once with my Dad but he did the powder stuff, I just held onto him." Terry admitted while Harry just shook his head, he just hoped it was less uncomfortable than apparating.

"Alright well it's pretty simple to use, you take a pinch of the powder." Castamir pointed to a worn clay pot filled with a glittering dark powder on table next to the fireplace. "And then you step into the fire, speak the name of the place you want to go and then throw the powder into the fire. The Floo network does the rest of the work for you, but you need to speak clearly, if you say the wrong place the Floo can spit you out on the other side of the country." Castamir threw a silver sickle onto the table next to the pot of powder and then gestured for the boys to take a handful of the powder each.

"Right Terry you can go first, then Harry and then I'll follow on behind in case one of you goes the wrong way. We're going to the Three Broomsticks, okay? Nice and clearly, go on."

Terry stepped forward into the fireplace, the low flames licking up his trousers and trunk but finding no purchase on him, and after a quick breath he threw the powder into the flames and said in a slightly rushed breath.

"Three Broomsticks!"

WOOSH

In a surge of fire and magic, Terry disappeared. It happened too quickly for Harry to catch most of the process, but he was able to perceive Terry's form being surrounded by the emerald flames before it began to blur together and then he was gone and the fireplace was empty again, leaving only small flames to flicker across logs and coals.

"Excellent, now you Harry, and keep a tight grip on your belongings." Harry nodded and stepped into the fireplace, not something he ever thought he would be doing willingly. It was an odd sensation, to have tongues of fire flicker up your legs and yet feel not heat, in fact they felt remarkably cool, like a chilly breeze.

"Three Broomsticks." He said as he threw the fistful of powder into the fire below him. In an instant he was surrounded in fire and magic. He felt himself being surrounded, cocooned in the surprisingly gentle flames and he had a vague sense that he was moving, or at least things around him were moving as he could see shadows moving swiftly beyond the fire. Although trying to pay more than the barest attention to what was occurring outside the cocoon of flame was a sickening experience, his awareness was brushing against and past things at such speed that he felt sick.

And then it was over. Cool air hit his face as the flames fell away from him and he staggered forward as his awareness washed out and filled the room he found himself in. Luckily, Terry had moved away from the fireplace as Harry stumbled forward, catching himself on his cane as he shook his head and did his best to adjust to the sudden change.

"You alright there mate? Bit weird isn't it." Terry patted Harry on the arm and led him across to a bench as the fireplace surged behind them and Castamir stepped out into the pub.

"Well done boys, the first time is always the worst." Castamir praised them as he made his way past them and up to the bar, the pub was empty except for a witch stood behind the bar lining up glass bottles on the counter. "Hello Rosmerta, looking lovely as ever."

"Castamir, what are you doing up this way? Do I need to worry about the Hitwizards knocking on my door asking about you?" The witch, Rosmerta, asked with a smirk as Castamir affected an air of faux hurt.

"Me? In trouble with the Ministry? I'm wounded Rosie, truly that cuts me deeply." He straightened with a grin and a wink that made Rosmerta sigh, though a small grin still crept onto her face. "No I'm not here on business, I'm just escorting these two to the Castle. The barrier closed up on them and they couldn't get to the train, so I've been asked to take them up to the gates."

"You couldn't Floo straight onto the platform with them?" Rosmerta asked as she looked across at them, her eyes widening briefly when she realised who Harry was.

"By the time they ran into me at the Cauldron the train had already left, this was the next best thing." Castamir explained before closing his mouth quickly at the expression on the barmaid's face.

"And what were you doing in the Cauldron? Is my bar not good enough for you? Have to go slinking off to that grubby place instead?" Rosmerta demanded as she leaned forward across the counter and glared at Castamir who looked nervously at the boys for help.

"Now Rosie let me explain, I wasn't there for a drink, I only got back from Europe today and I had to Floo from the Ministry. The Cauldron was just closer to home, that's all. Why would I go there for a drink when it would mean missing seeing your lovely self?" Castamir quickly explained as he leaned away from the angry witch.

Rosmerta eyed him for a long moment before she finally snorted, shaking her head as Castamir let out a breath of relief.

"You're a fool Castamir Leventis, go on then get going. If you get back before the lunchtime rush maybe I'll have a drink waiting for you." Rosmerta shooed him towards the door, calling out to Harry and Terry as they left. "I look forward to seeing you here next year boys and don't let this scoundrel lead you astray."

Castamir shook his head as they exited the pub and stepped out onto the cobbled high street of Hogsmeade, the street was mostly empty as they followed Castamir to the right and up a slight hill.

"A word of warning to you boys; don't upset Rosmerta, she's wicked with her wand and she has a short temper." Castamir called back to them as he strode to the top of the hill and then pointed down a path to the right. "That leads to the station where the Express comes in, but it won't be there for a few hours yet so we might as well walk up to the Castle. I think its this way…"

"You think? Didn't you go to Hogwarts?" Terry asked as they began walking along the left pathway, pulling their trunks along behind them.

"Oh no, I attended the Durmstrang Institute, I've only walked this way once and I was rather drunk at the time." Castamir replied as he glanced back at the two of them.

"Durmstrang?! But they teach dark magic!" Terry exclaimed as he tugged on his trunk, it had caught on an exposed root and as he gave it a final heave the root broke with a brittle crack.

"Well yes that's why I went, I'm a curse breaker and enchanter Mr Boot, I'd be a bit rubbish at breaking curses if I didn't understand them wouldn't I?" Castamir stopped and turned to face them with his wand in his hand. "Besides I still learned all the things you do at Hogwarts." With a single wave of his wand, the already lighter than usual trunk in his grip became almost buoyant as it floated a few inches from the ground. Terry's trunk did the same and after a quick test, they found that they could pull the trunks along behind them with no more effort than holding a balloon would take.

"If its so useful then why don't Hogwarts teach it?" Harry asked as they resumed their walk, now at a faster pace thanks to Castamir's spell.

"I'm sure they did teach it, or at least some of it, at one point. But dark magic is dangerous and without proper care and training, it warps the mind so sometime in the past hundred years or so it was phased out of the curriculum. I do know that if you want to study it, for theoretical purposes, you can apply with your Ministry to learn under a master they provide." Castamir added.

"Huh, I guess that makes sense." Terry nodded along and then fell silent, appearing to be deep in thought as they spent the next several minutes walking in silence. Harry had known some of the information already and was less shocked, it was like being a doctor; you had to know how the injuries were caused and how the body worked before you could really help.

Only after they had crested the top of the slope and began to make their way down the steady decline on the other side, the trees that bordered the path growing steadily thinner and sparser as the path curved to the right, did Terry speak up again. This time though, it wasn't a question but an exclamation that burst from Harry's friend.

"Wow, I've never seen it from this side before." Terry gasped as he caught his first glimpse of the Castle, the stone towers reaching into the sky above the great stone castle. As they rounded the last bend, the glittering lake also came into view, shimmering like a puddle of light on the grassy plains that surrounded the school.

Unfortunately Harry's awareness, while greatly improved since his first day of magical schooling, was still limited. Beyond a hundred meters his awareness of the world around him ended, he could push that border if he focussed but he rarely needed to. This was one of the rare moments when he once again felt a pang of pain at his loss, he could never see the world like Terry could. He hid the disappointment, burying it with a cough and a tensing of his shoulders as he kept walking forward, he let his cane tap ahead of him every few steps but mostly used his sight to check for any holes or bumps he might trip over.

By the time they reached the heavy gates of the castle grounds, the actual school still a way off, Harry was getting hungry. The wrapped sandwiches in his pocket had been shared between him and Terry already and although they helped, his stomach still gurgled sporadically at him.

The gates were closed and as they approached, Castamir drew his wand and pointed it at them with a gentle push. Nothing visibly happened for Castamir or Terry, but Harry was treated to a light show as a gentle wave of royal purple magic rolled out and up to the castle gates before breaking against the thick wall of magic that buttressed the grounds. It made the wards on the Dearborn house seem…paltry, like a barbed wire being compared to the Great Wall of China. Castamir's magic dissipated and flowed away from the Castle wards but not before an almost imperceptible shiver ran along them.

"And now we wait." Castamir said as he took a few steps back and sat down abruptly on the grass beside the path. "Someone should come down soon."

He was correct. Harry and Terry had settled down on the grass alongside Castamir and, after a suspiciously casual comment from the older wizard about how now they were technically back at school, they could cast magic again, began to play a new game where they levitated clods of dirt and had them fight. It started with simple levitation but quickly they both added animation charms and a little transfiguration, soon they both had a small dirt knight ready to duel.

Harry had cast the hardening charm 'Duro' on his dirt warrior and had transfigured a twig into a makeshift sword that he quickly added a featherweight charm to, hoping it would allow his knight to attack more quickly. He wasn't sure of all the spells Terry had used on his dirt figure, but he did recognise some of them and he could tell that his friend had used a lot more transfiguration to change the dirt into a harder stone.

They were about to do battle with their new knights, the remnants of their previous duel lay scattered around them, when they heard the heavy creaking of metal on metal. The gates swung inwards to reveal a figure walking down the cobbled path towards them, tall and draped in long dark robes.

"Why am I not surprised to see you flouting the rules, Potter? Why aren't you on the Express?" Professor Snape snapped as he stopped at the gates. "And who is that with you?"

Harry hurried to his feet and opened his mouth to explain when Castamir interrupted from behind him, having stood as well and stepped forward.

"Greetings Professor Snape, the boys were unable to pass through the barrier at Kings Cross and Mr Boot's mother asked that I escort them to the Castle. Her letter should have arrived for Professor Flitwick by now." Professor Snape sneered at Castamir and looked closely at him before suddenly straightening, a cold blank expression falling across his face.

"Very well, I will escort both of them up to the Castle. I'm afraid without an invitation from the Headmaster or the Board of Governors I cannot allow you to come any further. Come along Boot, Potter." Professor Snape whirled around and began to stalk back up the path towards the school.

"Right well I'd best be off and you two had best follow Professor Snape before he closes the gates on you. It was good to meet you Mr Boot, expect an owl, Harry." Castamir smiled at the two of them before twisting on the spot and disappearing with an echoing CRACK.

"We should catch up with Snape." Terry said to Harry's silent nod. He doubted Snape would really lock them out…but best not to test his theory.

"That Castamir bloke is alright you know." Terry added as they jogged through the gates, the creaking beginning again as they stepped onto the path as the gates swung closed behind them.

"Quickly before I decide to leave you back outside the gates!" They heard shouted from ahead of them and any response fled Harry's mind as he struggled to catch up to the Potions Master without falling over on the uneven ground.

There was a marked difference when walking behind Professor Snape compared to when Harry and Terry had walked with Castamir. The main difference was the silence. Castamir had peppered the walk with comments and questions, engaging them in conversation and waiting for them when they fell behind. Professor Snape was silent and unyielding in his pace, he never turned back to look at them, expecting them to keep up or be left behind.

The silence was only broken by the occasional pant for breath or the skittering of stones as Harry did his best not to fall too far behind the Potions Master. The rocky path seemed to grow more treacherous the closer they got to the school and only his trusty cane saved him from falling on his face several times along the walk.

But then they reached the school. Hogwarts' warm and welcoming magic seemed to stretch out towards them as they approached the huge doors, wrapping around them and drawing them in like a hug. Harry wasn't sure if the sudden warmth he felt as they stepped through the open doors was because of the magic or just his mind playing tricks on him.

"The Express will be arriving any moment so the other students will join you shortly. For now, you can go to your table and wait. It's impressive to lose points before term has even started but that will be fifty-" Professor Snape was interrupted by a gentle cough as the doors to the Great Hall swung open and revealed the Headmaster standing in the now open doorway.

"Thank you, Professor Snape, but I have just spoken to Mrs Boot about the issue in question, it appears a rather potent jinx was placed on the barrier at Kings Cross. We will investigate but I believe that two second year students, no matter how talented, are not capable of the jinx in question." Professor Dumbledore moved closer to them, his steps echoing in the otherwise silent entrance hall, and smiled at Harry and Terry.

"Very well Headmaster, if that is all I have a brew to return to." Professor Snape said stiffly before turning and stalking away in the direction of the staircase. Once Professor Snape had disappeared from view Harry couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips, echoed by Terry almost simultaneously.

"Come along then gentlemen, the other students will be a little while yet and we may as well sit comfortably while we wait." Harry began to follow the Headmaster into the hall when his grip on the gentle weight of the floating trunk in his grip suddenly disappeared as his trunk vanished. A quick check let him know Terry's had disappeared as well, but he was still relieved when he heard the Headmaster call back to them from within the hall. "Do not fret, your trunks will be waiting for you in your dormitories."

Being in the Great Hall while it was empty was strange, even on the earliest mornings Harry had come down for breakfast there were always a few students and members of staff present, to see it entirely void of chatter and life was unsettling.

The Headmaster stopped halfway up the length of the tables and, with an agility that belied his advanced age, took a seat on the bench of the Ravenclaw table, gesturing for Harry and Terry to join him.

Harry couldn't deny a certain level of nervousness at being sat so close to the Headmaster, he was a figure of legend and the last time they had spoken it had been a very serious topic. He wondered if perhaps they were still going to be punished but by the Headmaster instead of Professor Snape. He would almost prefer the caustic Potions Master's cruel words to the Headmaster's piercing gaze.

"Now," The Headmaster leaned forward, his eyes slightly narrowed as he reached into a deep pocket at his side. "Gobstones anyone?"

A/N – So obviously first I have to apologise. I said previously that I would be releasing updates every two weeks but with work getting busier and looking to move house soon, I definitely won't be able to keep to that promise. If I want to keep releasing chapters of a similar length to this one then I think I will need to be only releasing one chapter a month for the next few months.

Also, I realise that my chapters have grown to quite a length, averaging about 6-7k words now with a few that are even longer. How do you all feel about this kind of length? Would you prefer shorter chapters? Let me know if you have a preference, I will try to adjust my writing to fit what most of you prefer.

As always, a big thank you to everyone who has Followed, Favourited and Reviewed! I am blown away by how many people enjoy my work, please do let me know what you like and don't like so I can try to improve my stuff.

I might be looking at setting up a Discord soon so let me know if you would be interested, it would be free to join and would just be a place to chat about various topics, not just HP.

Please do follow or favourite if you like what I've written so far and let me know in a review or PM if there are bits you particularly like or hate!

Many thanks,

Daedalus Smythe 

Chapter Text

A/N - Apologies I was informed I had missed a 'Break' which I normally switch for single lines, I have corrected this now. Please enjoy and review if you like it!

Chapter 16

Even with the walk from Hogsmeade, they had arrived at the castle with several hours to spare and although the Headmaster spent one of those playing Gobstones with Terry (and losing in a bizarre turn of events), the elderly professor did eventually have to leave to prepare for the feast. He cleaned his green stained beard with a wave of his hand and congratulated Terry on his victory before making his way out of the Hall, leaving the two of them to wait in the empty room.

They spent the remaining two hours chatting and enjoying their ability to, legally, cast magic again. The hall was filled with sparks and lights and floating scraps of paper as Harry let his magic flow freely down the length of his wand, the two spent several minutes trying a tug-of-war with a piece of parchment, both trying to move it towards themselves and away from the other.

Harry was only distracted from his focus on the floating ball of scrunched up parchment when a stern cough sounded from the doorway of the hall. His focus had been so great that his awareness had shrunk from the edges of the Great Hall to just cover the tables around him and Terry. With a small flex of his will, he pushed his awareness out until it once again filled the majority of the hall and revealed the now open doors where a frowning Professor McGonagall stood with her arms crossed.

"While I praise your efforts at improving your magical focus, perhaps you could find a method that doesn't result in a mess of parchment scraps gentlemen?" The Transfiguration Mistress gestured with her wand at the floor around Harry and Terry and the various torn pieces of parchment they had used in their challenges all vanished from the floor. Harry let his concentration drop on the levitation spell, the sudden lack of resistance causing the parchment to smack into Terry's chest as he rubbed the back of his head embarrassedly.

"Sorry Professor McGonagall, we just wanted to do something to pass the time." Harry explained as Terry quickly tucked his hard-won trophy into his pocket and mumbled his own apology.

It seemed to be enough to mollify the strict witch who just nodded with a sigh and then ushered them towards the Ravenclaw table. "Professor Flitwick let me know about your troubles with the train, I'm just glad you did the sensible thing and found someone to bring you here. Now smarten up, the other students will be along very shortly."

The deputy headmistress made her way up to the staff table just as a side door behind the head table opened and the Headmaster stepped out followed by most of the rest of the staff. Oddly, Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape were the last to step into the hall and seemed to be in deep discussion together, even forgoing their usual seats to sit together at the end of the table.

Almost as soon as the staff had all sat down, the main doors to the hall swung open and the students from the train began to fill the hall, splitting into four streams that all swarmed their respective tables. Harry and Terry were sat with their backs to the Hufflepuff table so Terry was caught unawares when a figure suddenly separated from the group and tackled him and Harry in a hug that pressed their chests against the table edge. Harry had been able to prepare himself somewhat but even he grunted as the wind was forced from his chest.

"Where were you two?! We were so worried!" Susan squeezed the two of them tighter for a moment as Hannah did her best to pry the redhead away. "You will be explaining this later." Susan demanded as she relented and let herself be pulled over to the Hufflepuff table.

"She's a maniac, I think I've cracked a rib." Terry wheezed as he rubbed his chest and winced in pain. Before Harry could reply, the doors to the great hall opened again and Professor McGonagall led a long line of new first year students up the divide between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables.

It was odd to watch the sorting as a spectator instead of a participant and Harry found himself paying particular attention to the sorting hat's magic as it worked, breaking from his observations only to clap and cheer when a new student joined Ravenclaw. He couldn't discern how the hat worked, he didn't recognise any of the runes or movements of the magic that made up the floppy enchanted hat, but it was still interesting to watch it work.

After running through the long list of new students, a longer list than there had been for the previous year's sorting Harry was fairly certain, then the hat was taken away and Professor Dumbledore stood from his seat and gestured for the school's attention. In no time the hall fell silent, no magic flowed from the man to do this, his sheer presence demanded respect and at least that much obedience from even the most rebellious of students.

"Welcome! Welcome to new students and old alike, welcome to Hogwarts. Now I am sure you are all eager to eat so I will be brief. As many of you know, we found ourselves once again without a Defence Professor after an unfortunate incident last year, however the Governors have provided a candidate for the position. Gilderoy Lockhart has joined us and will be imparting the knowledge he has collected on his many adventures, please give him a warm welcome." Dumbledore gestured with one arm behind him where a tall wizard was sat, his blond hair perfectly coiffed and a wide smile on his face as he waved to the hall.

Like a wave rippling across the hall, whispers and giggles and feminine sighs echoed at the new professor's introduction, the noises only stopping when the Headmaster raised his hands again.

"Our caretaker Mr Filch has also asked I remind you all that magic in the hallways is forbidden and that he has added three new items to the banned enchanted objects list; Fanged Frisbees, Screaming Yo-Yo's and Gambol's Ricochet Balls are all now forbidden. The full list, which is now 358 items long, can be found outside Mr Filch's office for those who might care to look. And now on with the feast." With a loud clap of his hands the empty tables were suddenly covered with food and in no time the hall was filled with the sound of merry reunions and students filling their stomachs.

Harry enjoyed spending time with his aunt but deep down he knew, as he tucked into a slice of chicken pie, that his home was really Hogwarts.

"My name is Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin 3rd Class, Honorary member of the British Defence League, Five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award." The new Defence professor flashed his signature grin at the class as he started their first lesson with him. "But I didn't defeat the Hag of Homorog by smiling at her." A few of the students chuckled at Lockhart's joke before he tapped a stack of parchment on his desk and a sheet of the parchment landed in front of all the students. "I thought we would start with a little quiz, nothing too difficult, it's just to see how much attention you all paid to your books. You can have ten minutes starting now."

Amidst the rustling of parchment and the faint scratching of quills, Harry frowned as he ran a hand across his parchment and realised he would find this very difficult. There was no Braille on this test, he couldn't read it. After fighting through a brief burst of embarrassment he raised his hand, he still couldn't cast the surprisingly difficult translation spell for written text to Braille so he would need to ask the professor to do so.

"Oh yes Mr…Mr Potter? Well well a minor celebrity in your own right of course, do you have a question for me already?" Harry grimaced at the word 'celebrity' but nodded nonetheless.

"Er yes professor, sorry but I still haven't got the hang of the translation charm yet and I can't… could you create a braille copy of the test for me please?" Harry asked as he gestured to the paper in front of him.

He was surprised when Professor Lockhart didn't reply straight away, he supposed it was a rather niche spell and not many had need of it but the famed wizard's reaction was still odd.

"Nonsense Harry, may I call you Harry? No no, you don't need to complete the test anyway. That's only for the beginners anyway, you're at least above that already." Lockhart faux whispered as he picked up the sheet of parchment from Harry's desk and walked back to the front of the room. "In fact, I think you're all too advanced for that little test, besides books and scrolls can only teach you so much."

As Lockhart turned and reached down behind his desk, Terry leaned over to Harry. "Couldn't learn anything from the test anyway, first question was about his favourite colour!" He whispered, equal parts amused and outraged.

"Now I must warn you," Lockhart gripped a blue cloth in his hand, draped across an ominously rattling object on his desk. "Don't scream or cry, it might provoke them!"

With a dramatic flourish, the cloth whipped away from the cage to reveal…pixies. Or at least Harry was fairly sure they were pixies, Hagrid had pointed out a nest of them on one of their walks along the edge of the forest and the little creatures looked fairly similar to those in the cage, though they had been far less agitated than the mass of angrily buzzing wings and limbs struggling against the metal bars. Harry felt rather sorry for them, compared to the happy pixies in the forest these creatures seemed thin and angry.

"They're not dangerous, they're just pixies!" Michael Corner shouted from the back of the class.

"Freshly caught Cornish Pixies to be precise. If you think they're not dangerous then you should have no trouble dealing with them." Lockhart tapped the front of the cage with his wand and with a sound like a hurricane, the door swung open and a wild cascade of wild pixies exploded across the room. They swarmed the room, biting and scratching anything and everything they touched as they enjoyed their newfound freedom.

Pandemonium. The cloud of pixies surged across the desks as shrieks and screams filled the room, students clambered over desks and knocked over chairs to get away from the wrathful cloud and quickly cries of pain sounded as the slowest students or those closest to the front were surrounded by the pixies.

A few resourceful students had been able to cast spells to fend off the little blue devils, but the majority of the class were cowering or fleeing for the door. Even Professor Lockhart seemed to be having trouble, he had ducked under his desk and was scrabbling for something on the floor.

Harry and Terry had made it to Susan and Hannah and were throwing sparks and other spells at the winged creatures whenever one neared their corner of the room. Harry had tripped in his haste and was still half lying on the stone floor when a larger group of pixies broke off from the cloud in the middle of the room and winged its way towards the foursome.

"Immobulus!" Hannah shouted from the left, a wash of magic freezing the pixies in the air just before they reached the edge of the desk they were huddled behind.

"Oh good thinking Han!" Susan cheered as the frozen pixies drifted away, leaving them space to join the mass exodus of students from the classroom.

"Do you think Professor Lockhart is okay?" Hannah asked as they stumbled away from the room, Harry couldn't help but feel bad for the professor who was likely still hiding under his desk, but as he limped along, he figured that a Defence professor could probably handle himself well enough, a sentiment Terry seemed to share.

"Who cares? The lunatic let out a bunch of wild pixies and then disappeared on us!" Terry shouted as they hurried away from the room.

"Maybe he was just trying to show us how even small creatures can be dangerous?" Hannah suggested, but even she didn't sound like she believed it.

The only silver lining to the pixie debacle was that Harry and Terry could make it down to the dungeons for their Potions lesson with time to spare. This year they would be sharing the labs with the Slytherin second years instead of the Hufflepuff's, so they bid farewell to Susan and Hannah at the ground floor and descended deeper into the bowels of the castle.

They were the first ones to the laboratory, but the door was locked so they settled outside the room chatting until they were joined by the rest of the Ravenclaws, a few still looked shaken by the Defence lesson. The Slytherin's arrived in one solid group with a few minutes to spare and, almost like he had been waiting for them, the door to the lab swung open as Professor Snape stepped out and stared apathetically at them all.

"Inside." He instructed in a low rasping voice, and they were all quick to comply.

It was interesting, when sharing the lessons with Hufflepuff's there was no real distinction between the two houses, they mingled and sat amongst each other. This was not the case with the Slytherins. The room was arranged with a gap down the middle and the far sides for students to walk down without having to jostle others brewing and the Slytherins all sat down to the of this middle aisle, leaving no ambiguity to their intention. It didn't matter much to Harry, his limited interactions with the serpent house had all been negative, although admittedly he had only spoken with four of his year mates from Slytherin.

"Your previous year has been spent on the most basic of potions in order to teach you the proper techniques to be used in brewing. It is expected that now you have a foundation in the elemental rules and methods, you can begin to brew more complex potions. This year we will be focussing on potions with a longer brewing time. You will need to ascertain the stages in the brewing process where it is safe to stop for a prolonged period of time." Beside him, Terry rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Mr Potter, how do you know if it is safe to pause brewing a potion for more than an hour?"

"According to Arsenius Jigger, it is only safe to stop the brewing of a potion when there are no ongoing reactions or evolutions of heat and when the next step does not include the addition of a stimulant or ingredient which might agitate the potion." Harry was extremely grateful for the time he had spent reading ahead over the summer, the 'rest point' as it was called in some books was a big part of potion making and cropped up several times in the books he had read.

"Correct. For the first term either I or your books will instruct you on the rest point of the potions you will be brewing, however after the Winter Break you will need to recognise these stages on your own so pay attention." Snape jabbed his wand at the chalkboard at the front of the room and writing appeared on it. "Copy this down!"

Luckily for Harry, Terry was able to whisper the instructions on the board to him and his quill jotted them down in braille. For a moment he thought Professor Snape would scold him on the use of magic in the classroom, but the man seemed satisfied to ignore his existence, instead praising the brewing techniques of Draco and the other Slytherins. He did take a few points from Harry for not grinding his lionfish spines correctly, but Harry could live with that compared to the stories he had heard from Neville.

In fact, it was only because of Neville's warnings from his time in Potions with the Slytherins that Harry was able to recognise the small object that sailed across the room and nearly landed in his cauldron. He was able to reach out and grab the little missile before it reached his potion, but he doubted anyone without his sight could have detected it through the clouds of smoke and vapours that filled most of the room. He nudged Terry and opened his palm to show him what he had caught.

"Bloody hell, keep that away from the cauldrons Harry. That's a Salamander scale, if that got into this it would…well it would probably have burned anyone nearby pretty horribly at least." Terry whispered to him.

Harry hadn't been able to track the object back to who had thrown it, but it had definitely come from the Slytherin side of the lab. He folded some scrap parchment around the scale and slipped it into his bag, it looked like he would need to be on the lookout for any more sabotage attempts now they were in class with the Slytherins.

"Apparently McGonagall heard about the pixies and tore Lockhart a new one, Nev said they were just reading passages from his books for their lesson." Terry whispered to Harry as they sat around their familiar table in the library.

"The Weasley twins reckon that he had to head to Diagon over lunch, something about his wand being stolen by a pixie." Neville added leaving all three boys to fight chuckles at the thought.

"You shouldn't laugh about that, poor Professor Lockhart damaged his wand defending one of the Hufflepuff's from the pixies." Hermione interjected with a frown. "It's quite heroic of him really."

Harry considered mentioning that Lockhart had been hiding beneath his desk before deciding against it, it wasn't worth the questions from Hermione anyway. Terry and Neville had some knowledge of his sight, nothing specific but he had been around both of them enough for them to know that his impairment was less of an issue than he had let most of the school believe. There had been a conversation last year about it and both had readily accepted his honest explanation that while his eyes definitely didn't work, he was only blind in the traditional sense of the word.

"I heard he took a vow to never hurt an innocent being so he couldn't do anything to the poor things, that's why he threw his wand at them to help us." Hannah added, Hermione nodded along eagerly at the explanation. It sounded odd to Harry, he was sure there were ways to trap the pixies without hurting them that Lockhart could have tried before throwing his wand, but he didn't fancy arguing with the girls who fervently believed in the man.

"How was Charms for you then Nev? I heard we're covering temperature charms?" Harry asked in an effort to steer the conversation to safer waters.

"This term we will be moving onto more complex animate transfigurations. You have all showed success in more simple transfigurations but now we will be performing transformations with less similarities, we will start with the vertebrate-to-wood and move onto the far more difficult vertebrate-to-glass. I will give only one warning, anyone found to be casting these spells on another person will be in detention with me until summer if they are not expelled." Professor McGonagall stared at the class for a long moment before she nodded and gestured at the small cages on the desks. "In front of you are a variety of small vertebrate creatures, you will be transforming them into simple wooden objects. Start with just turning them to wooden statues of themselves and once you can do so to my satisfaction, you will vary the shape to increase the difference and difficulty."

The little cage on Harry and Terry's desk contained two small mice, next to them Susan and Hannah had two small frogs in their cage much to the girls' disgust. It wasn't too great a jump to go from hedgehogs and pincushions to mice and wooden mice and Harry quickly had a wooden mouse in front of him, though he wasn't sure how the colour, he suspected it wasn't quite right as Terry let out a quick snort at the sight of it.

"An excellent start Mr Potter, now reverse the change and try transfiguring the mouse into a box instead." Professor McGonagall instructed from behind them. Harry quickly cast the reversal spell, briefly restoring life to the mouse as it squeaked and dashed for the edge of the desk.

"Mutatio Lignum" He focussed on the change he wanted to make, forcing his will on the mouse. Tendrils of green wrapped around it, sinking into it and changing its form, its shape to his intent. The box that teetered and wobbled half-off the desk wasn't perfect, it wasn't quite as uniform or smooth as he had intended but it was undeniably a wooden box and not a mouse.

"Mate that's pretty bloody good." Terry praised as he picked up the box to examine it. A stern cough from behind them reminded Terry that Professor McGonagall was still stood observing them.

"I will forgive Mr Boot's language on this occasion, as that is a very impressive feat Mr Potter and on your first try no less. Five points to Ravenclaw." Professor McGonagall tapped the box with her wand, unravelling Harry's spell in a split second. "Now try making a more complicated shape while I go and check on Miss Parkinson."

Harry spent the rest of the lesson trying to add details to the box, making it bigger and smaller, adding carvings to it. It was difficult work, especially for him. His awareness made some textures and details appear differently in his minds eye, he could feel the ridges and bumps, he was aware of them, but he couldn't envision them the same way others would. But he struggled on nonetheless and with some occasionally helpful comments from Terry, he finished the lesson with a rather ornate wooden box. It had carvings of ravens chasing little mice along the edges and sides and engraved into the lid was a bird with its wings spread wide. By the end of his efforts, Harry had the beginnings of a headache building but he was pleased with the results.

"Your father would be proud Mr Potter, he was a master of Transfiguration and created a similar box in his second year, though his had a little more diversity in the decoration. Lions and stags, though he too included a mouse if I remember correctly." Professor McGonagall smiled at Harry and patted him on the shoulder. "He would be proud of you Harry. I know you have had difficulties with some of the aesthetical areas of Transfiguration, but you have done well to overcome them."

Harry left the Scottish witch's classroom with a smile and a proud warmth as he and Terry made their way down to the Great Hall for lunch. Apart from the disastrous Defence lesson the day before, his lessons were going well and his extra reading over the summer had already helped him in several classes. With Quirrell gone and Voldemort off in Albania, he was safe and content to enjoy his time in the Castle with his friends.

Two months passed by far too quickly and all too soon it was Halloween again. Harry did his best not to let the reminder of his parents' fate get him down, but as the day approached more students would whisper and point, the events of twelve years previous were still famous even if most of the school was happy to leave him be the rest of the year. His friends did their best to keep his spirits high, Terry let him win at Gobstones, Neville showed him a new plant in the greenhouses that only bloomed around magic and glittered in Harry's sight. Susan and Hannah took a different approach, deciding that it was best to distract him with work instead of fun, and asked him for help with their homework and practicing spells. It worked surprisingly well; Harry knew what they were doing but he was still able to distract himself with them for a time and it had the added benefit of improving their grades as a group.

By the time they were heading to the Halloween feast Harry was in slightly better spirits than his first year, he intended to spend it enjoying himself with his friends as best he could. Those plans were spoiled almost immediately when a voice called out from behind him. A voice he unfortunately knew all too well.

"Not going off to have a little cry this year Potter?" Malfoy asked as Crabbe and Goyle pushed their way down the stairs to form a path for the blonde Slytherin. "I would have thought you'd be off in the girl's bathroom with Longbottom like last year, having a little get together for the orphans club were you?"

"Shut it Malfoy!" Terry shouted without turning to look at him. Harry gripped his cane tightly but otherwise did his best to ignore the boys' words, hurtful as they were.

"I wasn't talking to you Boot, then again I suppose you feel left out. After all, at least Longbottom and Potter come from pureblood families, your no better than a mudblood." Malfoy spat at them. Harry was relieved that Neville wasn't with them, he doubted the Gryffindor would have been able to restrain himself at Malfoy's cruel words.

The words hurt, but they soon reached the safe harbour of the Great Hall and Malfoy fell silent, the boy was arrogant but even he knew that spouting off in front of all the teachers would get him in serious trouble. He settled for a final smirk in their direction before joining the Slytherin table, leaving Harry and Terry to sullenly sit at the Ravenclaw table and pick despondently at the marvellous feast on display.

The feast passed in a blur for Harry, Terry eventually joined a conversation with an older year about Quidditch but Harry couldn't summon the energy to participate. A younger girl, Luna Lovegood, did eventually get a few words out of him when she asked him about his Wrackspurts and Nargles but mostly he sat and did his best not to think about what he had missed out on.

Once the feast was officially over, Harry was one of the first to leave the hall, he just wanted to go to sleep and for the day to be over. He knew he should have waited for Terry, but he felt drained, he just wanted the sweet oblivion of sleep so he wouldn't have to think for a while.

HUUUUNGRY

The sourceless voice echoed around the corridor, a quick check showed nothing near him in his sight but he knew from Castamir that it was possible to hide magic, even if it was very difficult. He took a few tentative steps forward, the tap-tap of his cane the only sound before the voice cried out again, rasping and monstrously loud.

MUST HUNT

MUST KILL

YEEAOW

The last sound was very different, not deep and angry but high and scared and certainly not human.

Harry carried on, walking towards the next staircase and the sound he had heard. As he rounded the corner, he found the corridor ahead to be empty. No Troll or other monster as he had feared. There was some water on the ground still, likely from those trekking in from outside but aside from that nothing out of the ordinary. A few more steps and he noticed something. There was something on the wall up ahead. Something had been spattered across the wall between two sconces and stuck below it, about a metre off the ground was something else. A cat. But it wasn't that the cat had somehow defied gravity and remained on the wall that drew Harry closer, nor was it the sound of echoing footsteps from the direction of the Great Hall. It was the magic that surrounded the cat that drew him closer.

Thick chains of acidic green speckled with bright searing orange wound around and through the cat's body. The ethereal chains were probably not visible to the naked eye, but to Harry they burned in his sight. The cat's own muted brown was almost entirely blotted out by the magic, but there were no symbols or runes in the magic as Harry had become accustomed to seeing in most powerful spells. These chains of magic were … pure for want of a better word, untainted by structure. Before he could examine the magic further, a hand grabbed him roughly by the collar and shoved him against the wall.

"What have you done to my cat?!" Mr Filch screamed, spittle flying from his mouth as he pushed him harder against the wall.

"Mr Filch I didn't I swear-" Harry protested as he felt a warm dampness soak across the back of his head. Behind the caretaker the crowds from the hall caught up and begin to fill the corridor, shocked gasps and even a short scream followed quickly at the sight.

"Enemies of the Heir beware. Huh, guess that means you'll be next mudblood." Malfoy sneered from the front of the crowd as he pointed towards Neville and Hermione who had both also pushed their way to the front.

Harry did his best to push against Filch's grip and eventually with a surge of strength he didn't know he possessed, he was able to break the caretaker's hold and shove him away though the effort left him leaning on his cane and the wall to hold him up.

"What is going on here?" Professor Snape demanded as the crowds split for him and he stepped closer. "Potter if this is some sort of prank I'll have you out on your ear before you can say-" Snape began before Filch interrupted him with an anguished cry.

"A prank? He's killed my cat! I'll string him up by his ankles and lash him till he confesses!" Filch stormed back towards Harry with his arms outstretched.

"ENOUGH" Filch froze in place and the crowds split again, this time to reveal the Headmaster and the rest of the House heads. "Mr Filch you will not touch a student in such a manner again or your time here will be at an end. Now let us take Mrs Norris to my office and we can work out what has happened." Professor Dumbledore gestured towards the cat and she floated away from the wall to hover beside him. "In the meantime, if you could all return to your dormitories, we will investigate what has occurred here. Mr Potter, I think it best if you come along as well."

"My office is closer and at your disposal Albus." Lockhart offered from behind the Headmaster who nodded once and led the way to the defence professors quarters with Harry and the now silently fuming Mr Filch following behind.

Once they reached the quarters, the Headmaster began to examine the cat. First by waving a hand over and around the animal without touching it and then by prodding and poking it with his long wand. Little tendrils of violet magic probed at the thick chains that bound the cat, but every time the two magics touched, the chains would bristle and tighten, digging deeper into the cat's form. Eventually the Headmaster straightened with a sigh and shook his head.

"Mrs Norris is not dead Mr Filch, she is petrified though how and why I could not say." Professor Dumbledore stated wearily.

"P-petrified? Not dead? So you can fix what the boy did to her?" Filch asked desperation filling his voice.

"I cannot, not yet at least. However our resident Potions Master can brew a restorative from Mandrake root that should revive Mrs Norris. I can say that whatever did this to Mrs Norris is well beyond Mr Potter's abilities, no matter how prodigious he may be." Professor Dumbledore smiled kindly at Harry before directing his next question to him. "But you may have heard or noticed something that could help us Mr Potter, can you think of anything out of the ordinary that occurred during your walk before you found Mrs Norris and the writing on the wall?"

"Writing on the wall, sir?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Ah of course, my apologies Harry, I forgot about your particular difficulty. There was writing on the wall above Mrs Norris, someone had written a message in blood. Animal blood I believe." Dumbledore explained.

"Oh." Harry wrestled for a brief moment with the thought of mentioning the voice he had heard, but really it could have been his imagination. Besides, even he knew that hearing random voices wasn't a good sign. "No professor I'm sorry but there's nothing."

"If I may Headmaster, its entirely possible that Mr Potter was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, given his track record of attacking other students and general trouble making-" Professor Snape suddenly fell silent as Professor Flitwick let out a sudden spark from his wand. Bright and brief, it floated from his wand tip lighting up the room before fading away just as quickly.

"My apologies Severus, I think my emotions got the better of me. You were saying something about Mr Potter's previous behaviour?" Professor Flitwick asked in a bland tone as he stepped a little closer to the Potions Master.

"The boy attacked Mr Malfoy without provocation last year and-" Snape rebutted in a heated tone before falling silent as the Headmaster raised a hand.

"Peace, Severus. There were several eyewitnesses who described Mr Malfoy as the antagonist of said encounter which is why I overrode your decision to revoke Mr Malfoy's punishment. As I said, whatever caused Mrs Norris' petrification is well beyond Mr Potter's current abilities." The Headmaster dropped his hand with a heavy sigh and gestured towards the door. "You may go Mr Potter, but please do come to me if you think of anything that could help us."

Harry nodded quickly and then left, sighing in relief as the door swung closed behind him. Without Quirrell and Voldemort it was supposed to be a peaceful year. He knew that many questions would await him in the common room, but he had few answers for his housemates. He hadn't even known there was writing on the wall. He did know one thing though. He wouldn't be caught unawares and unable to defend himself this time. Holding his cane in one hand and his wand firmly in the other, he made his way towards Ravenclaw tower.

"You need to set aside your prejudices Severus, forget your feelings for the boy's father. They are not the same." Flitwick demanded angrily.

"I am well aware of who Mr Potter is Filius. Now if you will excuse me, I need to prepare for the brewing of the Mandrake Draught." Professor Snape stalked from the room, slamming the door closed behind him to leave the odd group of the Headmaster, Professor Flitwick, Filch, Lockhart and a petrified cat behind.

"It's a shame I wasn't there, I know just the spell to stop such a thing." Lockhart bragged from his seat in the corner, though his claims went mostly ignored by the other men in the room.

"Argus, I will ensure that Mrs Norris is restored to her former self." Albus promised much to the caretaker's visible relief. "However, if you ever touch another student as you did today, I will have you in chains in front of the Wizengamot without hesitation. Am I clear?" The relief turned to horror as the caretaker's face grew pale and haggard.

"Y-yes Headmaster." Filch nodded his head and, with a final longing look at the petrified feline, left the room with his head hung low.

"Albus I might not have been here in the forties, but I heard the stories. Is it the same as before? Is it happening again?" Flitwick asked.

"I do not know, it could be a student prank. Someone heard a story from a parent and decided to play a misguided joke." Dumbledore let out a long breath and shook his head sadly. "But yes, this is how it started the last time. If they follow the same pattern we will have a few weeks, perhaps a month and there will be another attack."

"There were a lot of rumours Albus, about the last time. My first year we were all warned not to walk the halls alone. Nobody would say how it was stopped though, only that someone was expelled. You were teaching back then; do you know who it was? Do they have a child here now? Or a niece or nephew perhaps?" Filius asked, though there was little hope in his voice. He knew that if Albus had any strong suspicions, he would have acted on them by now. The terror that had resulted from the last time the Chamber was opened had almost led to the school's closure and several students were injured in fights and attempts to escape the school.

"Neither the culprit nor the one expelled for the attacks have any family at the school currently." Dumbledore answered in his usual infuriatingly cryptic manner. "No, we will need to be vigilant Filius and you will need to keep watch over Mr Potter, if the Chamber is truly open again then he is in more danger than the rest of us." The Headmaster warned as he picked the frozen cat up and made his way to the door.

"Harry? Why?" Flitwick asked worriedly.

"Because he has stood against the last Heir of Slytherin twice already, whoever has opened the Chamber will need to prove themselves greater than the previous Heir. What better way than slaying the Heir's mortal enemy?" Dumbledore explained as he walked out of the door, a stiff cat under one arm and his wand in the other, leaving a nervous Charms Master and an oblivious Defence Professor in his wake.

A/N Hey everyone! Well as I have had to so many times before, I must apologise. I am currently moving house and this story has unfortunately had to take the backseat to real life once again. I know, its terribly annoying. I will be doing my best to stick to the one release per month schedule and from the reviews and messages I have received, it seems like most of you like the longer chapters, but I will try to keep them under 10k words as has been requested.

SO…this chapter covered a fair amount of time, I wanted to ease Harry back into things, but I also didn't want to waste a whole chapter on a single day/week of his schooling. I hope I've done a good job showing the time passing but let me know.

There are some easter eggs in this chapter, I've sprinkled some across previous chapters as well and you guys have spotted most of them, will you catch these?

As always, let me know what you think, your reviews and messages make this worthwhile, I don't think I could have stuck with this for so long without your help so thank you all or your continued support!

Until next time,

Daedalus Smythe

Chapter Text

Author's Note

Hey everyone! Yes I am still alive and, more importantly, so is this story! A big thanks to everyone who has followed, favourited and reviewed while I've been absent, as always it is very much appreciated!

I have decided to make a small change to how I do things, usually I reply to reviews via direct message, but I realised that the questions in them are probably shared by more than just the one reader, so moving forward I will be replying to reviews at the beginning of each chapter. If you aren't interested then feel free to skip forward but you never know, I might answer a question you also have.

Mikton2001 – Luna will be playing a role in the story, but I don't want to say toom uch more without spoiling it.

Guest – Harry is a twelve year old who was very nearly killed, he will react in ways that might not seem logical or sensible from the outside. I don't know about you all, but when I was twelve I didn't think much through, I reacted emotionally not logically.

Guest – Thank you! We will be diverging from Canon more and more the further in we get, in this instance Harry didn't mention anything because he was scared more than anything else. He doesn't want to be blamed for what happened and saying "I heard a voice saying Kill " isn't exactly a great excuse.

Griffin Blackwood – Thanks you, I like to think that McGonagall would have defended Harry in Canon, but she also shows more deference to Dumbledore. With Harry having a closer relationship with Flitwick it just makes sense he would step in, though he is keeping it professional and not doing it in front of students…for now.

Mwinter1 – Thank you for the review, I'm glad you liked it.

Abigail Guerrero - Sorry for the delay, but here you go!

Stella Imber – Apologies I didn't explain this fully, in my world the classes are more mixed. So instead of every class being the same two houses, they mix them up a bit. So for 2nd Year, Potions and Astronomy are Ravenclaw/Slytherin, Defence and Charms is Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff, Transfiguration and Herbology is Ravenclaw/Gryffindor and History of Magic is an auditorium/lecture style so that one has all four houses in one large room where Binns lectures. I may well have confused some of the characters in classes they shouldn't be in, if I have then please let me know and I'll go back and correct!

Fhl1234 – I'm glad you've enjoyed the story so far! I have no plans to stop the story, I'm just struggling to stick to a schedule with work and other commitments so please bear with me!

Fhl1234 - I'm glad you're still enjoying the story. I don't want to spoil anything but you will get some answers soon!

Chapter 17

Hogwarts was an incredible school. Moving staircases, talking portraits and secret passages filled the old castle and only enhanced its mystique. But, for all of its mysteries and magic, it was still a school filled with children, so it should have come as no surprise that the Great Hall was filled with rumours by the following morning. Most of the stories Harry heard as he poked at his bowl of porridge were fairly close to the truth, but a few were so wildly inaccurate he had to stifle a chuckle whenever he caught snippets of them. His favourite was that he had caught Mrs Norris and Mr Filch in the middle of punishing an unnamed first year and, with some unknown spell, petrified the cat to help the innocent escape. It didn't explain the writing on the wall found above the cat, but it was still a good one.

The majority of the school had accepted that he was likely just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but there were a few whispers and mutterings that he overheard as he made his way towards the Charms corridor that caused his ears to burn. He was grateful that nobody had actually voiced their suspicions to him directly at least.

His musings on the behaviour of the school at large were interrupted when he opened the door to the room that had become a sanctuary for him and his friends over the past year, only to find it was not empty as he had expected. Professor Flitwick was sat on one of the old wooden chairs, slightly lopsided after it had been used in their spell practice a few weeks previous.

"Ah hello Harry, I hope you don't mind that I let myself in? I have had a few reports of loud noises from this room over the past month and thought I would, ah, kill two birds with one stone as it were." Professor Flitwick explained with a small grin.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin at the mention of the loud noises, Terry had found a rather interesting spell in the library that recreated the effects of a small thunderclap, they hadn't been able to think of many practical uses for it, but it was fun to test nonetheless.

"Sorry Professor, we might have gotten a bit carried away practicing a new spell, you're not going to kick us out are you?" Harry asked as the thought of losing the room, which had grown to be quite special to Harry, crossed his mind. His fears proved to be for naught as the Charms Master shook his head and quelled his worries.

"Oh no, no quite the opposite Harry. It's something of a tradition for students to claim spare rooms for practicing spellwork, after all the school rules explicitly state that no spells are to be cast in the corridors. No you are more than welcome to continue to use this room, but I would advise that perhaps your next extra-curricular study should be of some basic charms of protection? Muffling noise and light perhaps?" Flitwick gestured with his wand and a faint gauze of blue magic coated the door, sinking into the top of the wood for a moment before it all but disappeared, even from Harry's sight. "That should last a week, a little challenge for you to see if you can find something and learn to cast it in that time."

"Thanks Professor, I will go to the library and get started after lunch." Harry promised, there was no chance he would turn down a challenge like that.

"Good, now I am afraid I must turn onto the less pleasant topic which has brought me to you today." Flitwick's brow furrowed as he frowned at Harry. "Why did you lie yesterday, Harry?"

For a handful of heartbeats, Harry considered denying it. A small voice in the back of his head whispered to him to deny it, to lie and bluff, that if he told the truth he would be blamed or thought mad. But the voice was all but drowned out by the rest of his mind when he considered the Charms professor, the man who had introduced Harry to the magical world, who had helped him whenever he asked for it.

"I'm sorry Professor, I just…I was scared you would…" Harry struggled to put his fears into words but was interrupted by Flitwick shaking his head and raising a hand to him.

"You do not need to apologise Harry, but I would ask that you explain what happened last night, without leaving anything out." Professor Flitwick's frown relaxed slightly. "The stress of last night likely caused you to mis-remember a few things, it is perfectly normal after a night's rest to remember things you might have forgotten previously."

Harry couldn't help but smile at Flitwick's offered olive branch, even now the man was trying to help. It took several minutes and there were a few questions from Flitwick, but Harry recounted everything he remembered from the previous evening, leaving nothing out.

"Thank you, Harry, I can understand why you might have been worried about certain aspects of that evening being revealed to the school at large. Now, while I doubt it will be anything so simple, I would like to have Madam Pomfrey examine you, just as a precaution. I doubt she will find anything, but best to be sure about these things. Come, if we are quick we might be able to catch her before she has to deal with the aftermath of the Care of Magical Creature's class." Professor Flitwick ushered Harry out into the corridor and towards the Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey's examination was uncomfortably thorough, she spent more time on Harry's still scarred hand than anywhere else, but eventually declared that there was nothing she could find that would cause hallucinations of any kind much to his relief. She had even commented that his hand, which she had previously claimed would never fully recover, had actually improved slightly. The tight waxen scars that pulled tight across his palm and fingers were ever so slightly softening. She still doubted it would ever fully recover, but it was a good sign. Harry barely noticed the difference anymore, the pain that had lingered after his encounter with Quirrell all but gone, occasionally echoes of the burning pain would cause his hand to spasm but these moments of weakness were few and far between. Madam Pomfrey could do little for these, according to her and Professor Dumbledore there were very few things that could completely cure injuries caused by dark magic, especially the kind of magic Quirrell had been possessed by.

It took a month for the rumours and theories around Mrs Norris' petrification to settle down. A month of odd looks and whispers. But as Harry settled in behind a large cauldron next to Terry, he felt the worst was over. That morning at breakfast the majority of the conversation had been held by the controversial match between the Appleby Arrows and the Chudley Cannons that occurred the day before.

"You should all know what stage you left your Fever Relief Potions at, you have one hour to finish your brews." Professor Snape instructed from the front of the room, inciting a minor stampede of students to charge the large ingredient cupboard.

Harry and Terry had settled into a comfortable partnership in these lessons, Terry would retrieve the various ingredients and prepare them while Harry stirred the cauldron, adjusted the heat and added the ingredients when needed. Their system worked well and had netted them several 'Exceeds Expectations' on their brews, a difficult task with Professor Snape as the grader.

The Fever Relief Potion was a surprisingly complex brew, they had to combine Willow bark and Juniper berries with powdered Ashwinder eggs, but they needed to watch the flame as the eggs were known to react violently if exposed to too much heat. As Terry carefully spooned in small amounts of the grey powder, Harry felt his hand tense up, burning heat suddenly scalding it as it spasmed into a closed fist. Luckily he was able to let go of the stirring rod before his hand clenched and became unusable, earning him an odd look from Terry as he grit his teeth and clutched the offending limb to his chest. Whether Draco chose this moment for that reason, or it was just luck, he didn't know, but as Harry stepped back to avoid getting in Terry's way, he registered a quickly moving object flying through the air.

It landed with a horribly ominous plop in the middle of their cauldron and Harry barely had time to grab Terry with his good hand and yank him backwards before the bubbling liquid erupted from the lip of the pewter cauldron, spraying across the desk and spattering Harry's arm and chest along with Terry's leg. The unfinished potion bubbled and burned, and Harry had a moment of déjà vu as he felt his chest and the still spasming arm he had held against it begin to react to the boiling liquid soaking into his sleeve and shirt. It was nowhere near as bad as the burns he had experienced from Quirrell, but that didn't stop the strangled yelp from escaping his lips as he desperately tore at his clothes to tear away the potion soaked patches.

"Evanesco!" A wash of dull grey magic reached out to cover the potion and with a faint popping sound, it vanished leaving only scorched wood and blistered skin behind. "Were the warnings not clear enough for you? You need to take the potion off the heat before you add Ashwinder eggs and … " The Potions professor paused his lecture to peer into the still smouldering cauldron before, with a flick of his wand, a burned fragment of bleached stone floated up out of the cauldron and hovered in front of the pale wizard's eyes causing him to grit his teeth and grimace in the direction of the Slytherin half of the room for a brief moment. "Boot, Potter, get to the Hospital Wing and tell Madam Pomfrey you have caustic and heat burns and to check for any blood poisoning as well."

It was a limping and deeply unhappy pair who arrived at the doors to the Hospital Wing twenty minutes later, for once it had been Harry helping Terry not fall over as they made their way up from the dungeons which had made a refreshing change and had even helped keep Harry's mind off of the slow heat crawling up his arm to his shoulder. The tall doors swung open as they reached them, and a deeply unimpressed looking Madam Pomfrey hurried across to them. Harry was barely able to recite what Professor Snape had told them before he was forced into one of the beds that lined the Hospital Wing, six awful tasting potions poured down his throat as Terry groaned at his own treatment.

"Well Professor Snape was correct, you both have trace elements of the brew in your systems, the purging potions should take care of those, but it will be an uncomfortable night's sleep for the two of you I'm afraid. Now, Mr Boot your leg should heal fine, a night's rest and some burn salve and you will be as good as new." Harry didn't need to be able to see the matron's face to know his own burns were worse, the boiling potion had spattered across his already scarred arm and even after it had been vanished, he almost thought he could feel the heat of it across his hand and fingers. "Mr Potter, your chest should be fine, your arm took the brunt of the potion and after a few weeks there won't even be a scar. Your arm is another story, if it hadn't already been so damaged, I could use some of the salves I have to treat the worst of it, but I already tried them all after the incident last year. I'm sorry Mr Potter, I can numb the pain and you should retain your mobility but unless I can find something new to try, the scarring will be similar to how it looked in July." The matron sounded honestly upset at her inability to help, Harry felt a brief pang of anger at the unfairness of it, but it quickly faded to a lingering bitterness.

He and Terry played a short game of Exploding Snap but by the end they could both feel the effects of the purging potion coming on, sweat built up all across their bodies as the potion pushed anything foreign to the surface of their skin. It was a truly unpleasant experience and by eleven, Harry felt jealous of his friend who had somehow managed to fall asleep despite the shivering and sweating. It was only happenstance that he noticed the small figure approaching the side of his bed, short with long pointed ears it reminded him of Arka, Castamir's House Elf. Though that is where the similarities ended, this elf was hunched, and bandages of some kind covered its hands and fingers and instead of a clean toga it looked to be wearing dirty rags of some kind.

"Are you okay?" He asked without thinking, and internally cursed himself as the elf jumped almost a foot into the air in shock. "Oh I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you." He raised his hands in what he hoped was a calming way for the now trembling elf.

"Not mean to scare Dobby? Ohhh." The elf, Dobby Harry assumed, was gripping and twisting its ragged coverings as it swayed on the spot. "Dobby had heard of Harry Potter's Greatness, but not his kindness, oh Dobby must keep him safe, must must must."

"Keep me safe? From what?" Harry frowned as he recalled the events that had led to him sitting in the Hospital Wing overnight. "From what happened in Potions? Do you know who sabotaged our potion?" He already had a strong suspicion but if he had proof he could go to Professor Flitwick with it.

"Oh no, not from Potions explosion, no no. Things much worse than Dragon tooth in potion be happening at school." Dobby leaned in close, lifting himself onto the bed with a light grunt. "Harry Potter must leave Hogwarts. Harry Potter must flee, must live. Bad things be coming, Dobby not wanting to see Great Harry Potter be killed. Injured, burned be better than death, yes."

"Killed? What's happening at Hogwarts that's going to get me killed?!" He stopped as Terry rolled over in his sleep but when the other boy didn't seem to awaken, he continued in a whisper. "And how do you know it was a Dragon tooth in the potion that caused it to explode? Do you know who threw it in?"

"Dragon tooth not being important, it not be making it into cauldron without little nudge anyway. Dobby can't say what is happening but Great Harry Potter be's figuring it out, and he's being in danger."

Harry was about to reply when the elf's words sunk in, and he realised what had happened in the Potions class. "You nudged the tooth into our cauldron? It could have killed us!"

"No no no, not kill. Just injure enough to have yous being sent away from the school. Dobby had hoped not receiving any letters would be enough to keep Harry Potter away but he is having good friends, very persistent." Dobby looked like he had more to say when noise began to echo from the direction of the doors, muffled but getting louder. "Dobby be going now, Great Harry Potter must be staying safe. Dobby be back when he can."

Without a sound the elf disappeared, leaving only a faintly swirling eddy in the currents of magic in the air where he had once been which swiftly smoothed out. No sooner had they done so than the doors opened, torchlight spilling in from the hallway beyond as a small group of teachers bustled in with something hovering between them.

One of the benefits of Harry's particular form of sight was that he didn't need to be facing the direction he wanted to perceive, he just needed to move his attention to it, so he was able to lie in bed feigning sleep as he observed the commotion. He recognised the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall immediately, but it took him a moment to realise what the hovering object was between them. Frozen in place was a young girl with an oddly complex looking pair of spectacles on her face, her features twisted into an expression of pure fear. It was Luna, the first year who had taken to sitting near him and Terry in the Great Hall at mealtimes. She was an odd girl but friendly and always had something to add to their conversations, even if it was something he didn't understand.

"Albus, Minerva, what's going on?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she hurried across from her office. When she saw Luna's frozen form she let out a short gasp before immediately waving her wand across the girl's form as she cast various spells that Harry didn't recognise.

"Miss Lovegood was found by the Friar not far from here, we think she may have been coming to visit Mr Potter and Mr Boot but evidently someone else found her first. She is petrified, in the same manner as Mrs Norris unless I am mistaken." Professor Dumbledore explained as he moved Luna across to one of the beds and gently lowered her to rest on the bed, still locked in a pose of terror. At the Headmaster's words, Harry's heart nearly stopped, guilt swelling up inside as he realised he was the reason Luna was attacked.

"I'm sorry Albus, if she is the same as Mrs Norris then nothing I can do will break the petrification. She will need the Mandrake restorative as well, how long until Severus can finish brewing it?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she slumped against the bed in defeat.

"He thinks he should have the first dose ready by February, we checked all the local Apothecaries and even St Mungo's but none have any on hand." Professor McGonagall answered with a deep sigh as she patted Luna's stiff hand.

"It is a difficult and lengthy process to brew Mandrake restorative and the potion is only useable for a week once it has been finished, after that it becomes highly poisonous. We are lucky to have a Potion Master on staff who can brew it with any degree of certainty, there are only a handful in the country who could." Professor Dumbledore added as he peered down at the frozen first year's body. "I have informed Xenophilius and the Ministry of the attack, both are willing to wait for the restorative to finish and Miss Lovegood to awaken before they take further action. For now, at least."

The progress of a quiet month after Mrs Norris' attack was lost in a single night. The next day as Harry and Terry were released from the Hospital Wing, it was to a school filled with frightened and paranoid students. Somehow, word had gotten around that Luna had been attacked on her way to the Hospital Wing to see Harry and Terry, and now a new rumour had sprung up that either Harry was the Heir, or he was the 'Enemy' the message referenced. Either way, he was given a wide berth in the corridors now.

"Make way, make way!"

"Dark Lord on the prowl!"

"Stay out of his way or he might hit you with his walking stick!"

"Ooh I'm terrified! Please don't hit me Dark Lord…no no I'm further on your left, up a bit…"

Well, a wide berth by some. Others, like the Weasley Twins, had shown their support for Harry by talking to him in public and walking alongside him to classes. It turned out, the Weasley's lived in the same area as the Lovegood's and Luna had been something of a second sister to the Twins when she was younger. They had sought Harry out and told him they didn't believe he was the Heir, apparently Luna still spoke with the Twins occasionally and had told them he was very kind to her. They had graciously pretended to be distracted by something on the walls when he had struggled not to cry at the words, well not to turn red and splotchy, he was still unable to cry real tears.

Ever since then, the Twins had made it a point of greeting him like friends and turning the whole thing into a joke, and it did seem to work to an extent. Nobody outright ran away from him in the corridors after a week of the Twin's japes, and soon the gossips were given a new topic to discuss. The Duelling Club.

Flyers appeared on the notice boards in each common room overnight announcing the re-opening of the Hogwarts Duelling Club, the only details on the poster were the location, the Great Hall, and the time. The rumour mill worked overtime in the two days between the poster's arrival and the first meeting of the club, some said there would be Aurors coming in to teach them, others that Dumbledore himself would be instructing them. A small group of Ravenclaw's, Harry being one of them, were hoping that Professor Flitwick would be running the club, he was known to be a Duelling Champion in his youth so who better to teach them. The club was split into two groups, the fourth years and older would be meeting after lunch on the Saturday while the third years and younger would meet before lunch.

Harry and Terry were the last of their group to arrive for the club, they had been finishing their latest essays for Potions and almost lost track of time, and they struggled to wade through the crowd in the Hall to reach their friends. Just as Harry was greeting Neville and about to ask if there was any word on who would be running the club, the doors to the Hall slammed closed and from the top of the room, near where the Head table usually resided, a portrait swung open and out from behind it stepped Professor Lockhart and, several paces behind him, Professor Snape.

Half of the Hall cheered, gleeful whispers filling the space as various students expressed their pleasure at learning from the great Gilderoy Lockhart. The other half audibly groaned at the sight of not only the foppish Lockhart, but the dour Potions Master, any thought of this being an enjoyable and light-hearted club were dashed as the Slytherin Head docked five points from a Gryffindor for having his shirt untucked.

"Do you think it's too late to leave?" Neville muttered in a hopeful tone, Harry thought better of replying when Lockhart and Snape stepped up onto the duelling platform and looked out over the crowd, settling for a comforting pat on the Gryffindor's shoulder.

"Welcome, welcome. Now, can you all see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent." Lockhart whipped off his strange half-cloak and tossed it out over the crowd where a small but vicious group of fourth year girls fought for it. "After the terrible attack on one of our students, I implored with the Headmaster to allow me to restart the Hogwarts Duelling Club, to teach you all a little well needed self-defence. Professor Snape has graciously offered to assist me today with a little demonstration, don't worry, you'll still have your Potions Master when I'm done with him." Lockhart paused, perhaps expecting a few laughs, but even his most devout fans were silent at the look of barely stifled rage on Professor Snape's face. "Ahem, yes well, today we will be covering the basics, disarming your opponent and defending against them. Now Professor Snape and I will demonstrate."

The two looked a perfect contrast as they stepped up to meet each other in the middle of the long duelling platform, Lockhart stood smiling and waving at the crowd while Snape stood tall and cold, focussed entirely on his opponent. They each gave a bow, though it was generous to call Snape's twitch of the head a bow, before turning and pacing until they reached the ends of the platform and then they faced each other. Lockhart stood with his wand held loosely in one hand while the other he rested on his hip, he seemed supremely unconcerned by Snape who had taken up a pose that reminded Harry of the scorpions he had seen at the Zoo with his aunt. His wand was held behind and above his head like the scorpion's tail, while his free hand was pointed out in front of him, the Potions Master's entire demeanour screamed violent intent as his grey magic coiled tightly about his body.

On some unseen signal, both wizards moved. They both took a single step forward, almost in sync with one another, but the spells they cast were very different.

"Expelliarmus." Professor Snape launched a bolt of crackling red magic surging down the length of the platform, it looked similar to what Quirrell had cast at Harry down in the mirror room and he struggled to catch his breath as the lingering darkness at the edge of his awareness seemed to press inwards, faint heat prickled at his hand as he leaned against his cane for a moment. In his distraction, he almost missed the spell Lockhart cast, a circle of bright blue that appeared just in time to stop Professor Snape's spell. Or at least, to slow it down for a brief moment before the circle flickered and vanished leaving the hungry red spell an unimpeded path to Lockhart who had enough time to express his confusion and dismay before he was catapulted backwards, his wand flying from his grasp and into the crowd behind him.

The shock of seeing Lockhart being blasted off of his feet was enough to shake Harry from his dark memories as he fought to hold in a laugh at the Defence Professor whose robes had ended up covering his own head as he sat up with a painful groan.

"That…was…brilliant!" Terry gasped out between chuckles, even Hannah was struggling not to grin at the sight of Lockhart fighting his way out of his tangled robes, his usually perfectly coiffed hair was wild and stuck to his sweaty face in patches now.

"Yes well, thank you Professor Snape for that…enthusiastic demonstration, though I must say if I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy." Something in Professor Snape's expression must have warned Lockhart off antagonising the Potions Master, and instead he turned to the crowd and clapped his hands excitedly. "Now, who wants to have a go? We'll pair you up by year to keep things fair, so find a partner and practice, and remember disarming only."

Quickly the hall was filled with a flurry of movement as everyone found a partner to practice with, Neville was pulled slightly to the side as Hermione latched onto him. She still hadn't really warmed up to the rest of the group, though she had begun to spend time with Padma and Su Li in the library which was a good sign.

Harry and Terry squared off opposite each other, Terry even seemed to be trying to copy Professor Snape's pose from earlier, Harry had no clue whether such a pose would help but didn't have time to emulate his friend before Terry stabbed forward and cast the disarming charm towards him.

"Expelliarmus." The spell seemed to move slower than Professor Snape's example, but that didn't stop it from hitting Harry in the shoulder and causing his arm to spasm. His wand nearly tumbled from his grip before he was able to clench his hand and catch it. It was a good first try and Harry told Terry as much. "Yeah but you didn't drop it though, come on it's your turn anyway."

"Expelliarmus." He flicked his wand forward and watched as the magic leapt from his wand to connect with Terry's arm, Terry only managed to keep hold of his wand by wrapping his left hand around it and his spasming right hand.

"Oh damn that stings." Terry swore as he shook his arm out, indeed Harry could still feel faint pins and needles in his hand from Terry's first attempt, it was an odd feeling to have something try to force your body to act a certain way.

"Yeah, you okay if we try blocking it now as well? I don't fancy letting that hit me again to be honest." Harry asked as he waited for Terry to take his turn.

"Yeah alright, but no turtle shell." Terry agreed, smirking at Harry's annoyance.

"It's not a turtle shell, it's a shield spell and you know -"

"Expelliarmus."

"Tutamentum."

It took some effort, Harry hadn't practiced the basic shield spell in a long time, but he was able to block the spell from Terry before it struck him again. They alternated, trading spells for several minutes with neither able to get past the other's shields before Lockhart called a stop to the club. It was only as he turned his attention back to the hall at large that Harry realised, the rest of the students were probably not as used to practicing spells in this way. Several students were nursing bruised arms and hands and a few even looked to be sparking and smoking.

"Hmm maybe we should have another demonstration, Harry I saw you and Mr Boot doing a decent enough job, why don't you both come up here." Lockhart gestured to the pair of them and Harry did his best to swallow a groan, he really didn't want any more attention on him.

"Do you not think we should have a participant from another house take part, Gilderoy? I'm sure you didn't mean to show favouritism towards your old house." Professor Snape interjected and despite the how laughable it was for the man to mention favouritism, Harry felt a brief hope that he wouldn't have to stand up there in front of half the school. "I suggest we have Mr Potter … demonstrate with one of my students, Mr Malfoy perhaps?" And the hope was gone, replaced by a cold feeling as he did his best not to stumble up the steps onto the platform. Terry gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before Lockhart gripped his arm and manoeuvred him into position, leaning in close as he held out his own wand arm.

"Now Harry, I want you to repeat after me." The famed Defence professor proceeded to move his wand in ever greater and random movements until it actually slipped from his grip and he had to stoop to pick it back up. "Whoops, got a bit overexcited then, well I'm sure you'll do fine Harry."

Harry did his best to ignore the questions that bubbled up into his mind as Lockhart stepped away and instead focussed on his opponent who had just finished being told something by Snape and was now stepping forward to meet him in the middle of the platform. Harry did the same, the sound of his cane tapping the wooden boards echoed around the hall and Harry cringed inwardly each time he placed it down, he knew without it he was risking falling over but the temptation to put it down for the duel was growing in his mind.

"Scared Potter?" Malfoy asked out of the corner of his mouth as they bowed to each other. "I'm going to prove why they shouldn't let cripples in once I'm done with you." Any thought of handing his cane over disappeared at Malfoy's words, he would beat the cocky Slytherin.

"I'm going to show the whole school that a cripple beat you Malfoy." He smirked as the boy stumbled in his turn and as he paced back to his spot he fell into his breathing; it was instinctive and calming. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out. With each breath his magic tightened and pulsed beneath his skin, it was eager to be let out on the world as always.

"I will count down from three, you are to attempt to disarm your opponent or defend yourself. Three. Two. O-"

"Flippendo!" It should have come as no surprise that Malfoy cheated. And it didn't. There was a key difference between the practice he and Terry had been doing and the duel up on the platform. About twenty feet. Where he and Terry had been only six or seven feet apart in the crowded hall, up on the platform he was at least three times that far from Malfoy and that extra distance meant he had more than enough time to shuffle a step to the side.

Inhale.

The yellow spell shot past him, ruffling his robes as it did but otherwise leaving him untouched as he stepped back to his left and let loose his own counter.

Exhale.

"Expelliarmus."

He didn't know if it was luck or skill on Malfoy's part, but the boy managed to throw himself to the floor and out of the path of the spell just in time, though the sound of the Slytherin smacking into the floor brought a brief smile to Harry's face.

Inhale.

Malfoy climbed to his feet with a scowl and slashed his wand at Harry angrily.

"Averte Statum!"

Exhale.

"Arx Murum." The familiar hexagonal dome formed around him for a moment as he traced a quick shape in the air, just long enough for Malfoy's spell to collide with the front panel and disperse against it with a crackle before it faded away as he released his hold on the magic.

Inhale.

"I said disarm only!" Lockhart cried out from the side-lines somewhat feebly as Harry stood, one hand leaning on his cane and the other holding his wand out in front of him ready to defend against any other spells Malfoy might throw at him.

Exhale.

Professor Snape stepped forward and grabbed Malfoy's shoulder, pulling him close and whispering harshly in his ear. Harry assumed he was telling the boy off for using spells meant to toss him from the platform and waited patiently for the outcome, he was hoping Lockhart would call an end to the duel, but a quick check showed the Defence professor was chatting with a few of the fourth-year girls who obsessed over him.

Inhale.

Malfoy shrugged out of Snape's grip and stepped forward again, he might have imagined it but it looked like Professor Snape was angry at the Slytherin boy for a moment before his expression cleared and he returned to his default state of scowling at everyone around him.

"Serpensortia!" Malfoy shouted as he twisted his wand into a complicated shape. The boy's spell wasn't visibly obvious for a moment, except to Harry who watched in mild surprise as one of the wooden boards in front of the Slytherin was gripped by red magic and twisted into the shape of a snake that slithered forward, hissing and snapping at the closest spectators on either side of the platform.

What surprised Harry more than the rather difficult inanimate-to-animate transfiguration, was that he suddenly knew what he had heard on Halloween night. It was deeper that night, older and more understandable, but he recognised it nonetheless.

'Bite. Hunt. Bite. Kill. Cripple three-leg. Bite'

Exhale.

Susan and Hannah staggered back from the edge of the stage where they had been watching as the snake lashed out, snapping at the air around it as it inched further forward. Several students let out shrieks as the snake hissed louder before Lockhart stepped in front of Harry and brandished his wand.

Inhale.

"Not to worry, I'll deal with it Harry. Alarte Ascendarare!" The snake rocketed into the air, coming to a halt twenty feet up and twisting in the air for a moment before it plummeted back down, this time landing just to the side of the platform and even more furiously lashing out at those around it. Susan and Hannah let out screams as they tried to push away from the angry serpent, it shot closer to them and reared back to strike.

Exhale.

'Stop!' Harry shouted as he traced another shape in the air, this time adding a twist to the end as he envisioned the change he wanted, needed to make to the familiar spell. For the briefest of moments, it paused in its actions as more gasps echoed around the hall, but then it's head inched backwards further before shooting forward at the girls.

"Arx Murum." It took a heartbeat longer to form, but luckily it was a much smaller dome he wanted to make this time as the hexagonal shield formed over the snake just in time for it to collide with the walls of the small hemisphere and bounce off with a dull thud.

It took almost twenty seconds before the snake gave a shudder and stiffened, twisting back into a lifeless, if slightly warped, piece of wood as Malfoy's spell failed. Once it did, Harry let his hold on the modified shield spell drop along with his wand arm as he took several deep breaths, now that the adrenaline was fading, he could feel the strain of casting the spell in a way that was very much not how it was intended to be used. Despite the tremors in his arm, he was rather proud of himself, he had manipulated a spell on the fly for a second time. He couldn't wait to tell Professor Flitwick about it.

He stepped slowly off the stage and down to the still cleared space beside the platform, he knew Susan and Hannah would still be shaken by their encounter with the vicious snake so he wasn't surprised when they didn't immediately thank him for saving them. He was surprised when Hannah stepped away from him and Susan flinched as he stepped closer.

"What's wrong?" He asked as he stopped a few feet away from them, Terry took a half step towards him and patted his arm and Neville moved to do the same before Hermione pulled him back forcefully with a harsh whisper. He didn't catch what she said but he did hear the other whispers and murmurings that began to buzz around him.

"Parseltongue…"

"Snake whisperer..."

"Heir of Slytherin…"

END

Chapter Text

Author's Note

Bit of a shorter chapter this time folks but we get to see some interesting interactions. I added the bit about Percival because I realised it had never come up, but you'll see what I mean when you read. Hopefully it doesn't seem toooo forced.

One of my favourite characters returns in this chapter at the end, I love playing with him so please let me know what you think of my iteration of him.

A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed! It's amazing to me how many of you read and enjoy my work and I'm so grateful to all of you.

I hope you enjoy and please leave a review if you liked it or if you didn't! I'm always keen for any kind of feedback, even criticism if its constructive!

Reviews

Griffin Blackwood – Thank you! Yeah I wanted to keep the character almost entirely as canon, but I just can't write the way he speaks so had to change some bits. I've also added some 'rules' for House Elves in this world, because otherwise they are just wildly overpowered.

Guest – I do understand what you mean, but he is a 12 year old boy. He will begin to stand up for himself, but this is a boy who has been in multiple traumatic situations and has survived but just barely. He is not going to instigate conflict, at least not for now, but he will be getting more confident and self-reliant as this year passes and the next begins.

Aidann83 – Wow its like you could see my notes! I hope this chapter explains why no Hedwig, but that's not to say she won't enter the story at a later point!

Guest – Thank you very much! At the moment Harry is very much a defender. He will defend and counter, but he isn't the aggressive attacker. Not yet, possibly not ever. I see him eventually being a bit like Dumbledore in his duelling. This isn't someone who can dodge and roll across the ground to avoid spells like Canon, this is someone who will stand still (or near enough) and block or counter spells through skill. He won't need to move once the story is complete.

End of A/N

Chapter 18

"No it is not a Dark ability Harry, technically there are no Dark abilities, however historically there have been several famous Dark Wizards who were Parselmouth's. It is known that Ekrizdis was a Parselmouth, as was You-Know-Who and of course Salazar Slytherin himself, though whether he should be classed as a Dark Wizard is much debated." Professor Flitwick explained as he offered Harry and Terry a cup of tea in his office. "However there have also been a few famous Wizards who had the ability and were certainly not Dark, Merlin was known to have the gift of serpent-speech, as was Aesclepius who spent his life healing the sick in Ancient Greece. Much like the other gifts, Metamorphia and Precognition for example, it is down to the wielder to use their abilities for good or ill."

"I mean I don't think it would have been so bad if it weren't for all this Heir of Slytherin stuff going on, but you know at least a few of them will probably start to blame you now mate."

Harry slumped in his seat, the whispers that followed them out of the Hall and up to Professor Flitwick's office had already proven Terry correct.

"I am more interested in the cause for your revealing this ability Harry, you say Mr Malfoy transfigured a snake during the duel?" Flitwick asked as he pulled out a small stack of parchment and a quill onto his desk.

"Yes professor, then Lockhart flung it into the air and when it landed it was angry and I just didn't want it to hurt anyone in the crowd."

"Yeah and a bloody good thing you did too mate, the blonde ponce wasn't any use and Snape just stood there watching." Terry added as he snacked on a biscuit from the small plate of them on Flitwick's desk.

"Interesting." Flitwick tapped the parchment on his desk with his wand and it folded into a small paper bird before flapping its wings and soaring across the room to slip through the door, passing through the heavy wood like a boat through water. "And you used an inverted adaptation of the shield charm you are so fond of to trap the snake?"

"Yes, it was difficult but I couldn't think of anything else that would work quickly enough. I suppose I could have tried to un-transfigure the snake or bind it…" Harry trailed off as Professor Flitwick shook his head and smiled across at him.

"Well, I think five points for an impressive bit of wandwork are due then. I do not doubt you did what you thought best Harry, and you do not need to defend your actions to me. However, in the interest of fairness, I have asked for Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape to join us, Professor Snape witnessed the event and Professor McGonagall is an expert in animal conjuration and transfiguration and as the Deputy, she has final say on all disciplinary matters unless the Headmaster steps in." As if they had been waiting for the Charms Master's words, there was a polite knock on the door behind them. "Enter."

"You asked for us Filius?" Professor McGonagall paused as she stepped inside the office and caught sight of Harry and Terry sat in the room. "Hello Mr Potter, Mr Boot, I take it you asked for us to discuss the incident in the Duelling Club then, Professor Flitwick?"

"Indeed, do close the door Severus, I want to get this straightened out before the rumour mill has contorted the tale beyond recognition." Professor Flitwick explained as Professor McGonagall nodded and conjured a straight-backed chair for herself, Professor Snape elected to remain standing as he stepped up to the desk.

"An excellent idea, well I have already heard one version of the events from Percy Weasley, but would you care to explain in your own words what happened Mr Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked as she settled back into her chair and eyed him curiously.

For the second time, Harry retold the events of the Duelling Club, Professor McGonagall's lips curled into a brief smirk when he described Lockhart's ineptitude, but settled into a grim line as he described Malfoy's final spell and how he tried to stop it before it hurt anyone. Snape stood silently throughout the retelling, surprisingly he didn't disagree or react in any way to Harry's words.

"You inverted a shield charm to contain rather than repel? Ingenious." Professor McGonagall remarked absently as she absorbed the information before she turned to look at Professor Snape. "Do you have anything to add Severus? Any defence for Mr Malfoy?" She asked expectedly.

"The snake would not have been a threat to the crowd if Lockhart had not interfered." He stated slowly, his gaze fixed on the crackling fire in the corner of the office, for a long moment he said nothing else before he shook his head and looked back at the Deputy. "However, the snake was venomous and still a dangerous spell to cast, Mr Malfoy will serve two weeks detention with myself as punishment."

Harry nearly asked if the Potions Master was feeling unwell such was his surprise at the man's words.

"We do still need to discuss Potter's actions."

And all was right with the world again.

"Mr Potter's actions? Oh yes I see your point, not to worry, I have already awarded him points for his actions. Of course, if you wish to add to that feel free, after all he did protect students from all the houses with his actions." Professor Flitwick smiled innocently at the dark haired professor who shook his head again.

"That is not what I meant, the boy -"

"I agree Severus, another five points for quick thinking in the face of danger." Professor McGonagall interjected with a straight face, though one corner of her mouth ticked upwards as she spoke.

"Enough! We must discuss the boy's ability. It is an inherited gift, and Li- his mother did not possess it, nor did his father or I am sure he would have made full use of it during his time here." Snape was breathing heavily by the end of his minor rant but any further words were quelled by another knock at the door.

"Come in." Professor Flitwick invited as he stared at Professor Snape coldly.

"Ah forgive my lateness Filius, evidently the staircase decided that I needed to visit the fifth floor before I could join you all. Mr Potter, Mr Boot good evening." Professor Dumbledore stepped into the room with a smile and nodded his greeting to the two second-years. "I think our young Ravenclaw's should rejoin their housemates in the common room for the rest of the evening. Unless you have further need of them?"

Professor Snape looked torn as he opened his mouth but a single glance from the Headmaster was enough to silence him and Harry and Terry left with a brief wave to the other professors. As they made their way down the corridor and towards the Ravenclaw Tower, they just caught the sound of the Potions Master being reprimanded by the Deputy, her Scottish accent coming through stronger with each word.

The whispers and stares that had finally stopped before the Duelling Club came back in full force after it. The only silver lining Harry could see was that the Winter Break was fast approaching and within a week, he would be one of only a few students still in the Castle. He had been invited to Christmas dinner with Castamir and the others once again and he was looking froward to it, he had even been able to get a few presents from Hogsmeade via the Weasley Twins who were more than happy to do him a favour despite the Parselmouth revelation.

Whether it was due to the petrification's or not he didn't know, but by the 21st of December he was the only Ravenclaw left in the Castle, with only a handful of Slytherin's and Gryffindor's also electing to remain over the Winter Break, the castle felt rather empty. Unfortunately, three of the Slytherin's staying over the Winter Break were Malfoy and his two cronies and when they found out Harry would also be staying, they decided to make it their job to find and bother him wherever he went. Or they tried to anyway, they were turfed out of the Library the first day of the Break when Madam Pince caught Malfoy attempting to hex the book Harry had been reading. He hadn't been worried as every time the boy tried to cast the magic, it barely reached the book before fizzling out, whatever it was the blond was trying to cast was clearly too advanced for his ability. It had been entertaining nonetheless to witness him being dragged from the Library and banned for a month, leaving Crabbe and Goyle to stand gormlessly for several minutes before realising they should probably follow their leader.

The rest of the days leading up to Christmas saw him practicing spells in the Ravenclaw Common Room, it was far warmer and more comfortable than the practice room they had claimed in the Charms corridor and allowed him to practice from the comfort of a cushy armchair.

"Mutatio Lignum Animatio"

Green magic suffused the wooden chess piece, the horse head of the knight twitched and trembled before it shook, its wooden mane flowing unnaturally as it let out a silent neigh. The body of the piece stretched and twisted, sprouting four legs and a long tail before it took a few clumsy steps across the surface of the side table it was stood upon.

It was a surprisingly difficult spell to perform, it combined an animation charm with a transfiguration but if he could master it, it could be used in a variety of ways. The little horse cantered around the table, gaining speed and stability before it turned and darted for the edge, leaping off the side table it soared through the air for a moment before hitting the ground with a clatter.

Harry couldn't wait to show Terry, their game of animated knights would be even better now that they wouldn't have to rely on figures cobbled together out of dirt and grass.

"That is a rather advanced spell Mr Potter."

The sound of the Headmaster's voice broke his concentration immediately and the little wooden horse twisted back into a stationary chess piece between one step and the next. Harry wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed the man as he entered the common room, his magical presence was hardly subtle, the professor was a magical titan compared to most everyone else in the school.

"Ah my apologies, I did not mean to startle you my boy, I only thought to check you were not struggling in your solitude." The Headmaster apologised as he gestured to the otherwise empty tower. "It is not the first time that a student has been the only one to remain in their House over a break, but I believe you are the youngest in quite some time."

"That's okay Headmaster, I'm fine thank you, I have been practicing spells and catching up on homework mostly." Harry said as he realised that he had rather let himself spread out across the common room with no one else around, he had papers and books scattered across the other chairs and tables, his Potions essay on the uses of Ginger Root was taking the space of the seat closest to him. With a quick gesture from his wand the stack of books and thick parchment sheets lifted from the other armchair and drifted gently across to one of the other tables.

"Oh thank you, I had forgotten what a walk it was up all those stairs." The Headmaster sat down across from him and turned his head to look at the fire for a few moments. Harry didn't know whether the man was waiting for him to speak but found himself somewhat tongue-tied so settled for sitting quietly and waiting. "Tweak?"

With a pop a House Elf appeared to the side of the Headmaster and bowed to him, this House Elf seemed very different to Dobby, cleaner and happier, much more like Castamir's elf, Arka.

"Would you mind fetching a cup of tea for myself and Mr Potter, and perhaps a few of your lovely lemon biscuits if you have any please?" The Elf nodded quickly, its long ears flapping about its head as it did so, before disappearing with another pop.

Barely a moment passed before two cups of steaming tea appeared on the side table along with a small plate of biscuits and a small jug of milk, one of the cups of tea and all of the biscuits smelled very citrussy.

"Do help yourself to the biscuits, I should warn you they are rather strong, I have a fondness for sour lemon and Tweak is one of the few elves who will indulge my habit." The Headmaster reached across and snatched up one of the biscuits along with his cup of tea. "I confess, I did have an ulterior motive in coming to see you Harry, may I call you Harry?"

Harry nodded nervously as he sipped from his own teacup, what could the Headmaster want with him? Was it about him being a Parselmouth? Was he going to be expelled?

"Excellent, well Harry as I said I did have another reason for visiting you, I believe we share a … rather rare talent."

"A talent, professor?" Harry couldn't think of a single thing he had in common with the Headmaster, the man was a living legend.

"Indeed, though I did not develop my ability until my fourth year of Hogwarts, I too am a natural Fulgomancer."

"You can see magic as well?" Harry was amazed, from what Professor Flitwick had said, the ability was exceedingly rare and was normally taught, it was not something you were born able to do.

"See magic? No, I can feel magic. My Fulgomancy is translated through my sense of touch, I can feel it in the air, in objects. Sometimes as a vibration, other times it has a texture to it, but all through my sense of touch." The aged professor shook his head as he took a bite of his biscuit. "I have only ever met one other who was born a natural Fulgomancer, he too could see magic."

"Really? Is he … is he like me?"

"Like you … no, once upon a time perhaps but not any more. Though you do remind me of him occasionally" The Headmaster seemed to sink into himself as he sipped from his teacup and looked down at the hot liquid, as if he expected to find the answer to an important question hidden in its depths. Harry wasn't entirely sure what the man meant, did this mean the other Fulgomancer was blind when he was younger but could now see?

"So he isn't blind anymore?"

"Blind? Oh. No, though I suppose he was blind for a time in his youth. But that … he is not what I wanted to discuss with you. No, I wanted to ask if you needed any help with your Fulgomancy, I know that when my senses came into their own, being in the Castle was difficult, almost painful at times. I am very impressed that you have been able to focus your abilities without the help of a teacher in the art, it speaks to your natural ability and fortitude Harry. However, I was lucky enough to be taught how to use my abilities by a master, Nicholas Flamel. He gifted me this book, something of a collection of notes that I have added to over the years. I would like you to have it. I have already translated the text into Braille, but it is my hope that it might aid you in your efforts. Fulgomancy can be a powerful tool in all branches of magic. I am eager to see what you can do with it." The Headmaster smiled at him as he handed over the leatherbound notebook before reaching for another biscuit. "Oh, it seems I have finished all of the biscuits."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at how disappointed the professor sounded as he realised there were no more of the lemony treats left and the Headmaster soon joined him with a chuckle, though he did let out a few more sighs of disappointment when he reached for a biscuit out of habit only to find the still empty plate waiting.

"Welcome to Casa Moody, now be careful the old man is- " Percival dived to the floor as a bright pink spell shot from the doorway and passed through the space his face had previously occupied. "Oi that could have killed me Alastor!"

"At least then I'd get some peace and quiet." Alastor Moody limped around the corner and into the hallway that Harry and Professor Flitwick had just stepped out of the Floo into, giving a nod of greeting to the two of them as he tapped his wand on the mantelpiece behind them. "Merry Christmas and all that, how are you both?"

"Very well all things considered Alastor, how are you?" Professor Flitwick vanished the soot from his and Harry's cloak's with a wave of his wand as they followed the Auror down the hallway until they reached a dining room. A simple round table with five chairs took up most of the room and Alastor took a seat in one of them once they all joined him.

"Hm could be worse, any word on when the Governors will let us into the Castle to investigate the attack?" Alastor gestured with his wand and a bottle of butterbeer floated across to Harry's place along with a goblet for Flitwick.

"Apparently as long as there is no lasting damage done to a student or teacher, the Ministry can't get involved. Add to that Malfoy dragging his heels and I doubt you'll be allowed in before the summer I'm afraid Alastor."

"Can we maybe not talk about doom and gloom at Christmas please Uncle?" Percival asked as he stepped into the room, several platters of food floating ahead of him.

"For once I agree with Percival, Merry Christmas Harry and to you as well Filius." Castamir greeted as he followed Percival with a large covered dish in his hands.

"Merry Christmas Castamir. Wait, you're his uncle?" Harry asked in confusion as he caught up with conversation, nearly spitting out his butterbeer as he realised what had been said.

"Well yeah, didn't you wonder why I hang around with this lot when I'm so much younger Harry? Alastor was my mum's brother, he took me in after they died while I studied for my NEWTS. Blimey Harry, did you think I was old enough to have met them during the war?" Percival gestured to his face with a grin. "I'm not even half as old as Moody and Flitwick, look at this skin, smooth and youthful!"

"Alright give it a rest Percival, the lad can be forgiven for his confusion. And you're clearly not too old for me to tan your hide if you say another word about our ages." Moody added as Percival opened his mouth again.

"Shall we dig in?" Castamir offered as he took a seat next to Harry, patting him on the shoulder as he did so.

The food was delicious, as good as anything Hogwarts had served during Harry's time there, and the evening passed into night with the group sharing tales and memories.

When it came time for the gift giving, Harry was pleased to have more to show than his carvings from the previous year, although he had still spent some time whittling with Hagrid when the stares and whispers in the Castle grew too much to handle.

"Counter-intelligence techniques? This a muggle book?" Alastor asked in befuddlement as he unwrapped his gift from Harry.

"Yeah it's all about how muggle spies lookout for other spies and how they defend themselves and stuff, I found it over the summer and I thought you might like to see how the muggles do your job without magic." Harry explained nervously, it was a risk giving such a gift to a wizard, some would find it insulting but Harry hoped Alastor would see past the prejudices.

"Hmm thanks very much lad, I met one of those spies back in the sixties, bloody good at their job they are." The grizzled Auror flicked through the book before something caught his attention and a grin crept across his face. "Homemade security measures … a hair across the door? Now that's damn clever … I could link up a detection charm to the hair …"

"You've done it now Harry, he'll be reading that all night. Come on then let's carry on without him, who's next?" Percival asked.

"Ah I believe I am next, one moment, I need to fetch Harry's present from outside." Castamir swept from the room and outside a piercing whistle echoed before he returned. "Harry, this is Kyrre, she is a Hrafn."

Perched on Castamir's arm was a bird. Sleek black feathers, clawed feet and a long bill, it looked like a Raven but the grey magic that flowed through every feather along its body and the piercing amber light in its eyes told Harry that it was not an ordinary bird.

"A Hrafn?" Percival asked curiously as he examined the bird from his seat. "I have never heard of such a thing, what are they?"

"They're a species of magical bird, they mostly live in the north, I found this one in Norway a few weeks ago and she wanted to come with me, seemed especially keen to meet Harry." At the mention of his name, the bird cocked its head in Harry's direction before hopping off of Castamir's arm, flapping its wings somewhat awkwardly as it made its way down to the floor. It hopped forward a few steps, its eyes locked onto Harry as it reached his feet. "They're very intelligent creatures, and they possess some form of innate legilimency."

"Innate legilimency? Like a Wampus Cat?" Professor Flitwick seemed concerned by the revelation but as he and Castamir continued their discussion, the noise began to grow muffled and distorted. As it grew more and more muffled a new sound grew louder to replace it, the sound of flapping wings, of wind rustling trees and the crunch of snow beneath little clawed feet. For a brief moment, Harry saw what it would be like to fly, to soar above the ground, he felt his wings spread wide to catch the air, how the smallest of movements could turn him, guide him as he was carried by the wind.

"-ink? Harry?" He shook his head as the sensation of flying was replaced by a pinching feeling coming from his leg, the strange bird had perched itself on his knee, its claws nearly piercing his trousers.

"Sorry I think I drifted off for a moment." Harry did his best not to shy away from the Hrafn as it hopped along his leg and then up onto the arm of his chair. "What were you saying?"

"I was asking if you like her? They make excellent companions; they can carry messages and they are excellent judges of character. She seems to like you, if you feel the same then she is yours." Castamir gestured to the bird, Kyrre, who was now preening and picking at Harry's hair, though she was being remarkably gentle with her wickedly sharp beak.

"Really? Thanks Castamir!" Harry lifted a half-inch from his seat before he remembered the bird now on his shoulder as it flapped its wings to keep balanced. "Aha oops, sorry Kyrre, but will I be allowed to keep her at Hogwarts?"

"It shouldn't be a problem Harry, the rules for pets are to prevent students from bringing potentially dangerous animals into the Castle. If you claim her as a familiar, then you can bring her and keep her in the Owlery or even in your dorms. I will inform Minerva of the situation in case there are any questions." Flitwick assured him, though he still eyed the large bird somewhat suspiciously.

"Did you hear that Kyrre? You're coming with me to Hogwarts." Harry ran a finger gently across the Raven's head, her feathers were surprisingly soft, and she seemed to enjoy the attention, pushing her head back under his hand for more.

Sadly, the peace and quiet of the Winter Break was quickly over, as students flooded back into the Castle, Harry returned to being something of a social pariah. Terry, Neville and Susan had all assured him that they believed him and knew he wasn't the Heir, but Hannah and Hermione had kept their distance since the Duelling Club. He wasn't as close with them as he was with Terry or Susan, but it still hurt to have people he had considered friends turn their backs on him.

He did his best not to let it get to him, he buried himself in his schoolwork and began practicing his old challenge of finding multiple ways of overcoming a problem. It helped somewhat, but occasionally the whispers and general miasma of suspicion that seemed to follow him around the Castle would grow too much. When that happened he would retreat, sometimes to the Common Room, but more often than not he would make the trek down to Hagrid's hut.

The Gamekeeper hadn't mentioned the rumours around him being the Heir, and the only reference the half-giant made of his Parseltongue abilities was to remark that they would be 'bloody useful for dealin' with some of the snakes in the forest'. They would sit and talk about the creatures in the forest or Harry's schoolwork, Hagrid was a surprisingly talented wizard despite his never finishing Hogwarts. Even without a wand and only having completed four years of school, the man had a knack for Transfiguration and a way to explain some of its concepts that made them seem so simple to Harry.

It was during one of these visits, halfway through a pot of tea and a discussion on the Transfiguration of air into crystal, that Fang began to growl in the direction of the front door. A quick glance by Hagrid out of the window had him standing and pushing Harry towards the back of the Hut, to the partitioned area that Hagrid's enormous bed and wardrobe were located.

"Righ' Harry, you need to stay quiet and still back here alrigh'? And no matter what you hear, you need to stay out of sight." Hagrid squeezed Harry's shoulder gently and pushed him back into the wardrobe, then he quickly threw the teapot and two cups into the sink.

Knock-knock.

"Who is it?" Hagrid asked as he approached the door but didn't open it.

"It is Albus, Hagrid, and I have the Minister here with me." Harry was surprised to hear the Headmaster's voice, but even more surprised when Hagrid shook his head sadly at the man's voice.

Hagrid moved around to the door but before he got there he chuckled and reached into the rafters above the kitchen and retrieved an enormous axe, the same one he had carried in the forest in Harry's first year. The wicked looking blade was still crawling with purple, green and brown magic, and with it resting against his shoulder, he opened the door.

"Ah good evening Hagrid, I am sorry to disturb you but the Minister asked for a few moments of your time, he wants to ask a few questions. Would you mind if we come in?" Professor Dumbledore seemed unsurprised by the sight of the half-giant holding the axe, but the short man next to him had taken a very careful step backwards when the door opened, placing the Headmaster squarely between him and the Gamekeeper.

"Come on in then Pr'fessor." Hagrid stepped aside and gestured for the two men to enter, closing the door behind them and leaning his axe against it with a heavy thunk. "Tea?"

"Oh yes pl- "

"No. Thank you, Mr Hagrid, but I'm afraid I have come on rather serious business. These attacks at the school, first the Lovegood girl and now Miss Abbott this evening, well the Wizengamot are up in arms. The Ministry, we have to be seen to be doing something." The Minister twisted his bowler hat in his grip and looked between the half-giant and the Headmaster who had leaned forward at the Minister's words. "I am sorry Mr Hagrid, but I don't have a choice."

"Cornelius you said you wanted to ask a few questions, I only allowed you onto the grounds on your assurance that-" Professor Dumbledore sounded angry but visibly deflated when Hagrid held up one of his enormous hands in his direction.

"You wouldn't have let me in otherwise Dumbledore, I really have no choice, the Wizengamot are after blood now. If I'm not seen to be taking action… well suffice it to say, this was the lesser of two evils." The Minister sounded honestly regretful as he withdrew a roll of parchment from his robes and held it out for Hagrid. "Rubeus Hagrid, you are hereby under arrest, you will be questioned and detained in Azkaban until a hearing can be held."

For a long moment there was a tense silence as Hagrid eyed the scroll being held out for him. A large part of Harry wanted the man to make a break for it, to do something. Instead, the man just sighed sadly and accepted the roll of parchment from the Minister who also sighed, though his was more out of relief Harry suspected.

"Cornelius, I want it known that Hagrid has my full support, if anything happens to him on his way to or during his stay at Azkaban, I will make my displeasure known." The Headmaster spoke as if he were remarking on the weather but the way the Minister shivered and nodded quickly showed the fear the Professor had inspired in him.

Fang, who had remained mostly silent during the conversation, suddenly growled again, letting out a loud bark as well. A moment later, there was another knock at the door, though this one was sharper and sounded more like metal on wood than a hand.

"You brought the Auror's?" Hagrid asked in shock, but the Minister seemed just as surprised by the knock and merely shook his head. "Who's there?"

"Lucius Malfoy, I am here to see the Headmaster." Hagrid's hand twitched and the axe that had been leaning against the door, spun through the air to smack into his open hand.

Whether the man knew the door was now unblocked or it was chance, Harry wasn't sure, but the door was pushed open then to reveal a tall blonde man leaning slightly on a silver topped cane. His purple and black magic rippled as he stepped across the threshold, his eyes were fixed on Hagrid even as he greeted the Minister and shook his hand.

"My apologies Cornelius, I did not realise you were here on what I'm sure is important Ministry business." Lucius gestured to the roll of parchment in Hagrid's hands.

"Not at all Lucius, unfortunate business. Mr Hagrid here will be coming with me to the Ministry and then to Azkaban, just until we sort this mess out."

"Oh my, bad business indeed." Malfoy paused before he continued in a subdued tone, half whispering the next words to the Minister. "I can't help but wonder, Minister, if it is sensible to allow the … man to keep hold of such a dangerous weapon. Perhaps it should be held by the Ministry until his trial? Leaving it here at a school…someone could be hurt."

"Someone will be 'urt if you try and take my axe Malfoy." Hagrid didn't move but he suddenly seemed even larger, his presence filling the hut as he loomed over the blonde wizard.

Malfoy shied away, leaning heavily on his cane as he did so. It would have seemed pathetic if Harry couldn't see his magic, a sickly black and red was swelling at the top of the cane and Malfoy was holding the cane oddly with both hands. It was incredible to see him portray himself as a near cripple to the Minister, and yet know that the man was preparing to retaliate with some manner of curse that even from across the hut, Harry could tell would be immensely painful to any it touched.

"Enough." One word was all it took for Hagrid to step backwards, the threat of imminent violence receding as the Headmaster stepped between the two men. "I will take custody of the axe; it was gifted to Hagrid to help in his protection of the school, it should remain here."

As the Minister nodded eagerly Malfoy's face twisted into a violent rictus, but a heartbeat later it was gone, replaced by a bland expression as the man bowed his head in agreement, the façade of a reasonable gentlewizard fixed back firmly into place.

"There is one other piece of business, perhaps it is for the best that you are here Cornelius, I have been approached by the other Governors. After the attack on Miss Abbott, there are concerns that perhaps the current administration is not up to the task. I'm sorry to say Professor Dumbledore, but they have called for your immediate resignation." Malfoy's tone gave nothing away as he handed over another roll of parchment, this time to Dumbledore who took it gracefully.

"NO! They can't get rid of Pr'fessor Dumbledore, there'll be deaths without him!" Hagrid exclaimed in shock and horror.

Even the Minister seemed concerned by the notion.

"Surely there has been a mistake Lucius, Dumbledore has been Headmaster for years. He defeated Grindelwald for Merlin's sake, we need him here." The Minister was nearly pleading but Malfoy simply shrugged and gestured to the parchment.

"I am sorry Minister, it was not I who called for the emergency meeting. I am simply the messenger." The two men didn't visibly react to Hagrid's snort of disbelief but Harry couldn't help the small snort of laughter that escaped him at the half-giant's antics.

"I will go Hagrid, do not worry, Minerva and the others will take care of the school in our absence." The Headmaster moved towards the door but looked back, almost directly at the wardrobe where Harry was hidden, and gave his parting words. "Help will always be given to those who ask for it at Hogwarts."

Malfoy and the Minister seemed nonplussed by the man's odd behaviour, but as Hagrid stood and made his way towards the door as well, they both quickly followed. As the burly man turned to close the door behind them, he smiled faintly in Harry's direction and patted Fang's head.

"Any last words from you as well then?" Malfoy asked with an audible sneer.

"Yeh actually. Anyone who wanted to know anyfin, they should follow the spiders. Oh and someone'll need to feed Fang while I'm gone as well, he likes raw steaks and chicken livers. That oughta do it." Hagrid closed the door and suddenly Harry was left alone in the wooden hut, with only Fang who was whining pitifully at the closed door.

Miss Abbott.

Hannah.

Hannah had been attacked, likely petrified, while Harry had been down with Hagrid. Now Hagrid was gone, Dumbledore was gone, and Harry wouldn't have been seen for most of the day right as another attack had happened.

END

Chapter Text

Author's Notes

Hey everyone! Another chapter for you, again I'm trying to stick to less than 10k words now, but the next chapter might get close again.

As always, a big thank you to everyone who has read, favourited, favourited, followed and reviewed! It means a huge amount to know so many of you like my work, I can't believe we have nearly 500 favourites on this story and nearly 700 followers. It is way beyond anything I thought this story would gather but I am grateful to each and every one of you!

Please continue to review if you like my work, I love all the reviews even if you have criticisms, I like to see what everyone's opinions are. Even if its just to say you think my writing is awful, I want to know why and what I could do to improve so please keep it up!

Reviews

Griffin Blackwood – Yes its very sad I know, but Tom targets people who interact with Harry, he wants the suspicion on the Boy-Who-Lived so that he can see how he reacts. A big motivator for Tom is seeing what makes Harry tick, what is the boy who defeated Voldemort like.

PanFafel – This is down to a few things. Honestly, I struggle with the points system and am winging most of it so that's on me, but as you mentioned I haven't seen a good system for it yet either. McGonagall and Flitwick did demand repercussions "off screen" and his detentions with Snape will not be all that fun despite his favouritism towards Slytherin. Snape is a pure Slytherin, he believes in cunning and planning which Malfoy showed none of. So, Malfoy does have a proper punishment don't worry about that. As for the dragon tooth/potions incident, it is near impossible for Harry to prove who did it and at this point he just doesn't have the anger to do so.

I don't want to spoil it but no Tom is not the Fulgomancer that Dumbledore is talking about. Although Harry and Tom have some similarities like being Parselmouth's, Harry is actually proving to be more similar to another wizard Dumbledore knew (and feared).

Thank you, I am glad you love my fic!

Guest – Thank you, I do struggle with how to implement certain parts of the books/Canon and some bits just won't happen. However the hut scene is important for the story and not enough has changed yet that the Ministry wouldn't try to save face by arresting Hagrid.

FoggyMindOfMine – No. Harry's eyes were damaged by powerful dark magic and equally powerful ritualistic magic, even as an Animagus he won't be able to see normally. However, he will likely still be able to use his Fulgomancy. Also Harry MAY become an Animagus in this fic, its not set in stone yet but if he does it won't be a magical super-form that makes him invulnerable, it will be a reflection of his animalistic, primal side.

Mizzrazz72 – Lucius Malfoy is such an underused character, I love Jason Isaacs portrayal but I think they could have done so much more with him. This is a wizard who served in Voldemort's inner circle, fought against Mad Eye Moody and Aurors for years, and then orchestrated a defence so that he was seen as not only innocent but a victim by the end. Lucius Malfoy is a Slytherin of the highest order.

Spicyanimechick – Thank you! I hope you like this chapter as well!

Love Faith Embers – Thanks I'm so glad you liked it, I hope you like this chapter as well!

Chapter 19

The Daily Prophet was quick to praise the Ministry for their arrest of a "suspect" in the attacks at Hogwarts, but those within the school felt no relief at the news of Hagrid's arrest, especially when news of Dumbledore's removal broke. The ex-Transfiguration professor may have been over a century old but his presence in the caste had been a source of comfort to many. Knowing that the man who defeated Grindelwald, seen by many as even more dangerous than Lord Voldemort for his near-conquest of Europe, Africa and Asia, was ready to defend the castle and its inhabitants allowed most of the school to believe that they were safe despite the petrification's.

Now that the aged warlock was gone, the fear that filled the school was palpable, a tense atmosphere that snuffed any laughter and extinguished every smile, not even the Weasley Twins were exempt; the brash and jovial boys decidedly subdued in the following days. That it had been a Pureblood who was attacked, and one from a fairly well-respected family, had shifted the attitudes of the house of snakes as well. Their belief that they would be safe from their patron's heir was ruined when they realised that so far both victims had been descended from prominent Pureblood families; the Abbott's could trace their lineage back further than many of their own families and Luna's mother had been a Rookwood before she married.

Despite all of this, Harry had actually found a spark of hope. He had a clue. Hagrid's words had stuck with him, so along with feeding Fang and walking him around the Lake once a day with Kyrre flying overhead, he now devoted at least an hour a day to researching spiders in the Library. Every book he could find in the Braille section that even referenced spiders, he read with a hunger. He had learned a lot about arachnids over the past few days, both magical and mundane species, some of it was useless but there was the occasional nugget. Of particular interest to him was finding that there were several species of magical spider, but the most dangerous were the Acromantula; giant man-eaters that hailed from the jungles of Borneo. Hagrid had mentioned that there was a "small family" of the creatures in the Forbidden Forest, at the time it hadn't meant much to Harry but after reading some of the entries on them, he was very glad he had never come across them on his walks along the edges of the forest. They could grow to immense sizes, their webs were extremely strong, their venom could paralyse but only temporarily, the effect would normally fade within a few days, and their senses were excellent. They were apex hunters and only their remote home and their habit of killing and eating their siblings prevented them from expanding beyond their territories in South America.

One tome he found was written by a poacher from the 19th Century, the man had been a regular attendee of a magical creature arena where various beings were pitted against one another. While the writer was not a nice man, he was an expert on magical creatures and, amongst his derisive comments on half-bloods, he had noted down an entry on the one time an Acromantula had been brought into the arena to fight.

'The only time I was able to witness a live Acromantula in the arena, it was to fight a Griffon in Rookwood's pit. I put five Galleons down on the Griffon, I had captured plenty of the beasts by that point and knew firsthand their ferocity. The Griffon in question was young and underfed, but I still expected it to triumph over an overgrown spider with ease. The descriptions I had heard of the Acromantula did not do it justice. Twenty feet tall, it towered over the Griffon. It was barely a fight, the monster leapt across the pit in a single bound. At least sixty feet across and it took barely a second. I have seen Dragon's roast wizards and devour them whole but watching that hell-spider hunt … it will remain with me for the rest of my days.'

There wasn't a great deal else about Acromantula that he could find, but he did learn a lot of ways to keep spiders out of a home. It was odd that there were spells to create clouds of citric acid specifically to repel insects, but he had developed a habit of trying to master every spell he came across in his readings even in his first year. The twenty minutes of practice was immediately made worth it when he realised that he could cast the spell in Terry's direction and then watch in amusement as the boy tried to figure out where the eye-wateringly strong smell of orange and lemon had come from.

"I'm telling you Harry, I reckon you must have misheard him, there aren't any spider's than can petrify." Terry was insistent that Harry was wrong about Hagrid's parting words, after a second week of researching the eight-legged critters Terry and Susan had both all but given up hope on the clue.

Neville had joined them for a few sessions in the library, but his talents lay more with flora than fauna. After hearing about a species of magical spider from Greece that was known to implant its eggs in its victims, let them escape until the eggs hatched three days later and the spiderlings ate their way out from the victims, well Neville had instead given them each a cutting from a Witch-Hazel that repelled arachnids and then not joined them again.

"I know what he said Terry, it's a piece of the puzzle I'm sure of it, we just need to figure out how it relates to Slytherin and the Chamber." Harry argued as they made their way out of the Library after another fruitless research session.

"Either way, I think we've read every book that the Library has on spiders Harry. None of them have gotten us any closer to finding out who attacked Hannah!" Susan clenched her fist around her bag's strap as she sniffed, she had taken her fellow Hufflepuff's attack especially hard. "I'm sorry boys, I think I'm going to skip dinner and just head down to the common room. I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry nodded sadly as the normally bright and joyful girl turned away in the direction of the Grand Staircase, joining with the flow of other students leaving the Library.

"You heading down to walk Fang?" Terry asked as Harry led the way down to the entrance hall. "You mind some company?"

"Not as long as you promise not to attack Kyrre again." Harry laughed as Terry sputtered his denials.

"I did not attack her! The ruddy bird was on my pillow when I woke up, all I did was push her off."

"She's just curious that's all. Now be nice, she's waiting outside for us." Harry side stepped to avoid the limping Professor Kettleburn as he led his class in, though he did receive a nod of greeting from the gruff man. He had only shared a few words with the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, the man had wanted to check that Harry was looking after Fang properly and had asked Harry several questions before judging him not likely to kill the poor dog.

The path down to Hagrid's house was fairly empty and they walked down in a comfortable silence until there was a gentle caw and the sound of feathers rustling in the wind. Harry did his best not to grin at Terry's flinch as Kyrre alighted on his arm, instead greeting her with a whisper and a brush of his fingers across the back of her head. He had brief moment of dizziness as strange sensations and feelings flashed across his mind, Kyrre's method of communicating was jarring at first but he had grown used to it and could tolerate the process without losing his sense of awareness.

"Yes we are going to walk Fang, just around the lake." Harry snorted as another impression brushed across his mind. "No Terry won't be swinging any more pillows at you."

"I'm telling you it was the bloody bird's fault!" Terry argued.

He quietened down as Kyrre flared her wings and took off to circle above them, her ability to communicate was limited by distance but it had grown stronger. When he had first met her she could only send impressions and sensations from a few feet away, only a week later and she could manage it from twenty feet, though the messages became less distinct the further she was.

Fang was curled up in front of the fire in Hagrid's hut when they found him, he had several of Hagrid's shirts bundled up around him and he whined pitifully when they opened the door. He had not taken Hagrid's absence well, but they were able to entice him out of the hut and out onto the path around the lake.

They had only gone a hundred metres down the path when Terry let out a yelp and jumped backwards in shock, nearly knocking Harry over as he did.

"Hell's bells Terry, what was that for?" Harry asked as he steadied himself with his cane, the end sinking slightly into the soft earth.

"Sorry mate, just wasn't expected a bunch of – oh that must have been what Hagrid meant!" Terry pointed at the path, just ahead of where he had been walking.

At first Harry didn't notice anything unusual but when he focussed his awareness more closely, he was able to detect…something. No, lots of somethings. A line of insects, two or three thick and several dozens long was moving across the path.

"Follow the spiders?" Harry repeated as he turned his focus in the direction the little arachnids were marching, towards the Forbidden Forest.

"How much do you trust Hagrid?" Terry asked only half-joking as he took a few steps in the direction of the thick forest's edge.

"With my life." Harry answered without thinking.

"Good because the army of spider's has come to an end, if we're gonna follow them it needs to be now." Terry pointed ahead again and Harry didn't need to focus to know that his friend was telling the truth, now that he knew what the march of spiders felt like in his awareness he could also sense the end of the line had reached them.

"Oh bloody hell." Harry raised his hand to his mouth and, remembering Hagrid's impromptu lesson when he had learned about Kyrre, he let out a piercing whistle. In only a few seconds, Kyrre had descended to land on his arm again. "Please go to Professor Flitwick and let him know that me and Terry are following a lead about the Heir, if we're not back in a few hours then we're in the Forest."

Kyrre cocked her head before she nodded once and took off, flapping hard in the direction of the castle.

"Good idea that, come on then!" Terry led the way into the forest, with Harry following a little behind as he did his best not to trip on roots and uneven ground. Fang let out a mournful whine before he too followed, sticking close to Harry as they ventured deeper and deeper into the thick woods.

The previous times Harry had walked in the Forbidden Forest, barring the detention in his first year, had all felt relatively safe. He had always been with Hagrid and the man had a reputation as a friend to the residents of the forest, they were never bothered on their short walks as Hagrid pointed out the odd plant or particularly brave creature that would show itself to them. The half-giant's knowledge of the forest and its inhabitants was mightily impressive, and with him the forest had felt welcoming and magical.

Without him, it still felt magical but the welcoming atmosphere was absent. Now it was an old and bitter magic that filled the woods around them, as they walked deeper and deeper the sensation of being watched by unseen eyes, the prickle on the back of the neck as hairs stood on end, grew stronger. Where before, the tall trees and wide canopies had felt protective and comforting, now they felt oppressive, like the jaws on a trap about to snap shut.

The gap between Terry and Harry had grown slightly during their efforts to follow the spiders, but as night fell and a chill began to leech into the air, Harry found Terry waiting for him by the edge of a gap in the trees.

"Good news and bad news mate." Terry chuckled nervously as his eyes darted around them. "I've lost the spiders trail, but I'm fairly sure I know where they've gone."

"Okay so where then?"

Terry shook his head and walked up to the gap in the trees, stepping close to the edge as the ground beyond seemed to drop steeply. Harry joined him and with a push, extended his awareness out ahead of them. They were stood atop a small hillock and past them was a drop before the trees continued, but stretched between each and every tree were strands. Some seemed to be as thin as hairs, others nearly as thick as Harry's finger, but all were woven into complex nets and webs that shrouded and encompassed all of the trees and ground for at least two hundred metres. Beyond that, he couldn't tell but it didn't matter.

"He did say to follow the spiders." Terry muttered as he let out another nervous laugh.

"I knew there some here, but I didn't think they would be this close to the castle." Harry shook his head as he focussed on the web covered area ahead of them. The thickest of the webs had traces of magic in them, flickers of greens and browns, and they formed strange shapes among the trees. It took a few moments but he recognized one of them, it was an old rune he had read about in Spellman's Syllabary, one used by Druid's of Britain, though it didn't look exactly the same as the one he had read about. It made sense though, the Druid's had learnt their runes from magical creatures so of course the creatures themselves would be able to use them in some way.

"I'm going to try something, be ready to run just in case." Harry whispered to Terry who nodded, he didn't seem to need much encouragement for that.

"Wait, what are you going to do?" Terry asked as Harry pointed his wand at the nearest cluster of webbing, still a good thirty feet down and away from the edge they were stood on.

"I'm going to knock."

With a breath and a thought, a wave of magic rolled out from his wand to brush up against the webs. The primitive rune closest to them shivered and that shiver ran along the webs, much like when he had knocked on Percival's wards. The sound was new though, like a taut string that had been plucked, the vibration built and built until suddenly it stopped.

The silence that followed was deafening as Harry did his best to hear or sense anything moving or responding from the area ahead of them. At first there was nothing, but after a few minutes a sound began to echo around them. A faint chittering. Then the vibrations, like someone had taken a tuning fork to the ground beneath them, it trembled and shook in pulses and waves. Harry had to take a few steps back from the edge as loose earth and stones fell tumbling down the side to rest against the closest of the webbing. The vibrations lasted a minute before they stopped.

When the first enormous leg stretched out from behind the webs, Harry almost thought it was a tree moving. Thick, black and hairy it reached to just out of the webs before settling against the ground near silently, an impressive feat for something of its size. The next came more quickly and an enormous head followed it, eight eyes each the size of Harry's own head and below were two smaller appendages that twitched and moved in the direction of Harry and Terry.

The drop from the edge Harry was stood near was nearly twenty feet of not quite sheer earth, but even with that drop the massive spider's head was level with them when it finally spoke. It's voice was low and rasping, like wind blowing over sand, the ground vibrated with each word and Harry absently realised that the vibrations from earlier were likely it trying to communicate from within its nest.

"WHO DISTURBS ME AND MINE?"

Terry let out a choked whimper but stood firm behind Harry, his wand gripped tight in his hand. Harry didn't think it worth mentioning that there wasn't any chance they could defeat this creature with their magic. Fang seemed surprisingly unconcerned by the appearance of the Acromantula, but he was sniffing the air and looking past the massive spider anxiously.

"We are sorry to disturb you, we were told by our friend Hagrid to come here." Harry explained as he did his best not to think about everything he had read about Acromantula and how deadly they were.

"HAGRID SENT YOU? WHY HAS HE NOT COME HIMSELF?"

"He has been…taken away, the Ministry think he has something to do with the attacks. With the Heir and the Chamber of Secrets." Harry couldn't help but take several steps back at the monster's reaction to his words. Legs the size of trees slammed into the ground, gouging great furrows in the earth as the Acromantula raged, a dreadful vibration thrummed through the earth as it did so.

"DO NOT SPEAK OF THE BEAST! HAGRID WOULD NOT HARM YOUNGLINGS, IT IS NOT HE THAT CONTROLS THE MONSTER!"

"We believe you, we just want to find out why he has been taken, why do they think it's him behind the attacks?" Harry felt Fang bump into his leg as the boarhound growled lowly in the direction of the web-covered trees.

"WHEN HAGRID WAS IN THE CASTLE AS A YOUNGLING THERE WERE ATTACKS. THE CHAMBER WAS OPENED. THE MONSTER UNLEASHED. A GIRL DIED AND THE SCHOOL WAS TO BE CLOSED. THEN I WAS DISCOVERED. HAGRID SAVED ME AS AN EGG AND RAISED ME IN THE CASTLE. THEY BLAMED ME AND EXPELLED HAGRID. I FLED HERE AND THE ATTACKS ENDED." The Acromantula actually shrank inwards slightly as it spoke of it's history, trembling in fear or anger Harry wasn't sure. "BUT I DID NOT ATTACK THE GIRL. HAGRID FED ME RATS FROM THE DUNGEONS, I NEVER ATE HUMAN FLESH. THE MONSTER STILL RESTS BENEATH THE CASTLE."

It was a lot of information to absorb but it made sense as Harry turned it over in his mind, Hagrid had a different idea of what was a safe pet to have and they had already ruled out Acromantula venom as the cause of the petrification's, although seeing the size of the specimen in front of him, Harry suspected its venom could well paralyse for several days at the minimum.

A part of him wanted to ask more questions but as Fang growled again and Terry grabbed his arm, he noticed the disturbances at the edge of the Acromantula nest that had his companions worried. Dozens of spiders had gathered at the edges of the silken forest, most were only as large as a dog but there were several that looked to be at least the size of a horse and all of them were tapping the ground with their legs. Several books mentioned that spiders communicated using vibrations, it made sense that Acromantula would do the same.

"Okay well thank you very much, we'll be sure to tell Hagrid who helped us when we next see him but we had best be going." Harry called out as he began to step backwards, the smaller Acromantula grew more agitated as he did so and he had a sinking feeling that if they didn't leave immediately they would end up strung up in webs themselves.

"I AM SORRY YOUNGLINGS." The colossal spider actually did sound somewhat regretful as it slowly retreated towards its home, the spiders around it chittering and stamping excitedly as it did so. "MY FAMILY DO NOT HARM HAGRID AT MY COMMAND. HE HAS PROVEN HIMSELF A MIGHTY HUNTER. BUT I CANNOT DENY THEM FRESH MEAT WHEN IT COMES SO WILLINGLY TO OUR HOME. I WILL ALLOW YOU A FAIR CHANCE TO FLEE BEFORE THEY BEGIN THE HUNT BUT THEY ARE HUNGRY AND THEY ARE QUICK. GOODBYE FRIENDS OF HAGRID."

As the last long leg of the Acromantula disappeared behind the curtain of webs, the smaller spiders began to tap their feet and hum. The vibrations shook the ground and the trees around them, the whole forest coming alive with their unholy chorus as the vibrations grew louder and louder.

"Run!" Harry shouted as he turned and pushed Terry onwards, they had been given a head start and against these monsters they couldn't afford to waste it.

Terry and Fang sprinted ahead with Harry doing his best to keep up, he held his cane in his hand not bothering to hold it out, he was more likely to trip up or lose it than anything else. As they ran the vibrations followed, the trees around them groaning and humming in a terrible melody. Nothing Harry had read had detailed how to defend against Acromantula, mundane spiders and a few other magical species had weaknesses, but Acromantula were Wizard-killers. They were not meant to be fought, they were to be avoided, observed only from a very great distance.

Harry wasn't sure how long he stumbled through the trees for, it felt like an age, but his lungs were burning and each breath hurt as he staggered forward. Up ahead Terry was also struggling, he had slowed to a shambling walk as he heaved in breaths, and all the while the ground beneath them shivered, the trees humming in anticipation.

"This isn't going to work Terry, quick grab Fang and come here." Harry half fell to the ground among the thick roots of one of the enormous trees, he couldn't sense any Acromantula within fifty feet of them but with how fast the things could move, they would surely be upon them soon.

"Harry you better have a plan that's more than just hiding next to a tree mate." Terry gasped out between breaths as he crouched next to Harry and wrapped his arms around Fang to hold the slathering boarhound in place.

Harry did have a plan, it relied on the Acromantula being more similar to mundane spiders than they were suspected of being, but after seeing and hearing how they used vibrations to communicate, he had a strong hope that it would work. Despite the fear of being found any moment, he took a few slow breaths to try to settle his mind and his racing heart.

"Vox locum obruo" He would need to remember to thank Professor Flitwick, the enchantment that prevented sound escaping their room in the Charms corridor also stopped vibrations, because what else was sound but vibrations in the air. He just had to twist his understanding of the spell slightly, when he had practiced it he had only ever pictured the spell affecting stone walls and a wooden door, now he needed it to quieten soft earth and living trees around them. It took a few seconds longer but he felt the magic settle into place around them as the tree they were huddled beneath stopped its faint humming, falling still and silent.

"Mutatio nebula citrum" He hadn't expected to need to use this transfiguration any time soon, apart from messing with Terry it had very little practical use but if the Acromantula were anything like normal spiders, they would hate being anywhere near the heavy cloud of citric acid he was creating around them. It was a tricky spell and even as he finished creating a thick fog of the citrussy air around them, the first Acromantula entered his awareness.

It should have been something of a relief to at least know where the monsters were, but as he felt them climbing across the boughs of trees a dozen feet away, the only feeling he could summon up was a deep-seated dread. There was a primal part of his brain that recognised the creatures approaching as predators, and every instinct in his body was telling him to run far far away from them. He did his best to quash the urge to sprint screaming away, knowing that he would be caught within a few steps by the apex hunters that now surrounded them.

One of the spiders crawled slowly down a nearby tree, tapping the earth with its front legs as it descended to the forest floor. It made no noise as it moved its hulking body across the soft ground, only putting weight on a leg when it was sure there would be no sound, no snapping twig or crunching leaf. It slowly crept closer and closer to the now extraordinarily fragile looking tropical cloud that surrounded their hiding spot, the only barrier between it and a juicy meal was heavily scented air and the fact that it could not feel that they were there. Harry was relying on what he had read; most spiders despite their eight eyes had very poor eyesight, they could see movement, but fine details were difficult for them. Although Acromantula were magical, they could well have excellent eyesight and as the spider inched closer, its fangs unfurling, Harry began to doubt his plan.

However, as the spider reached the edge of the cloud and extended one of its long hairy legs into it, the reaction was immediate and quite satisfying to Harry. The fine hairs that covered the spider's legs had begun to burn and shrivel, the black chitinous shell beneath them seemed unblemished by the cloud but the loss of the hairs on its leg was enough to send it scrabbling backwards, keeping its now hairless leg curled up beneath its body. The reaction wasn't quite what he had expected, but he knew that the hairs on spider's bodies were not for warmth, they were connected to the spider's sensory system and were extremely sensitive, having them burned up would be immensely painful and the use of the citric acid would overload the chemical sensors in the hairs before they burned up.

"The hairs are used for sensing changes in temperature, air movement and chemical changes around them. The citric acid will overload their senses and burn the hairs, like squirting lemon juice into a cut inside your nose but a hundred times worse." Harry explained to Terry as he pointed his wand towards the far side of the group of spiders that now surrounded the injured one. "Mutatio lignum. Animato fugo"

The cracking of twigs echoed through the forest as a short spindly figure made from a cracked branch began to stagger away from the gathered spiders, crunching through dry leaves and brush as loudly as it could. The Acromantula immediately followed, the unearthly chorus of chittering and vibrations picking up as they renewed their hunt. The injured Acromantula left followed at a slower pace, although it eyed their direction malevolently as it did so.

"Mate you are kind of scary sometimes." Terry muttered as the trees around them began to settle, the hunt moving away from them as the animated stick figure led the predators as far as it could. The magic holding it together would fade after twenty minutes or so but hopefully it would be long enough for them to get out of the forest. Harry decided not to respond to Terry's comment, instead grabbing his arm before he could walk through the lingering mist around them.

"Hold on, it won't hurt that much but it will definitely burn your hair off if you walk through that, I made it about a thousand times more concentrated than the one I cast on you for a joke." Terry took a small step backwards and shook his head.

"Scary mate, very scary."

"Ventus." A gentle wind carved a hole in the cloud, and it quickly separated, the magic holding it together broken to leave a sweet-smelling breeze the only trace it had ever existed. "Right come on, we need to get back to the castle before curfew, unless you fancy sleeping out here with them."

"That's not funny Harry."

Although the Forbidden Forest had answered a few of his questions, the most important ones still eluded him. They were no closer to finding the Heir or the Chamber, and Hagrid's trial had been delayed due to 'administrative demands'. The only light on the horizon was that the petrified students would be revived in a few days, Professor McGonagall had announced that Snape was almost finished with his restorative over breakfast and now the castle was filled with excited chatter. Harry was pleased that the petrified students would be revived soon, though not as pleased as Susan who was elated at the prospect of having her best friend back. The now cheerful Hufflepuff was planning to collect notes on all the lessons Hannah had missed for when she woke up, her and Neville were both meeting in the library to work on it.

Unfortunately, Terry and Harry would be unable to help, both of them had encountered a furious Professor Flitwick when they returned from the forest, and both had detentions for the next week with the usually cheerful Charms master. Thankfully, he had accepted their fabricated stories and believed that they had not found anything in the forest, likely believing that they would not have returned unscathed if they had. So far they had each been instructed to arrange feathers by the number of barbs on each, teacups by weight and most recently, crystal balls by their roundness. They had inevitably been incorrect in their arrangements so far and Harry was beginning to realise that Professor Flitwick had a devious streak in him when it came to punishments, it wasn't as torturous as Professor Snape's were reported to be, but they were immensely frustrating in their own right.

As Harry and Terry stepped out of the Charms classroom and began to head towards their common room, Professor McGonagall's voice echoed through the corridor and all around them.

"ALL STUDENTS REPORT TO YOUR DORMITORIES IMMEDIATELY."

The door behind them opened as the echoes faded and Professor Flitwick stepped out, pointing to Harry and Terry when he spotted them still stood there.

"Get to the common room, now." He instructed as he turned and raced in the direction of the main staircase, leaving them in the charms corridor.

For a brief moment, Harry almost followed him, but then the image of a giant spider its fangs dripping with venom flickered across his mind and he dragged Terry the opposite way, towards the other end of the corridor and the stairs that led up to the third floor.

"What do you think is going on? Do you think its another attack?" Terry whispered as they ascended the stairs and then cut across to the shortcut behind the painting of the sleeping monk, it was well known and well used for getting to a corridor just a few minutes from the Ravenclaw Tower.

"I don't know but it can't be good if they're sending us all to our dorm rooms, last time they did that it was for the Troll." The mere mention of the lumbering Ogroids was enough to send a shiver down Harry's spine, he still had the occasional nightmare about the towering Troll from his first Halloween at Hogwarts.

They were almost to the stone guardian of the Ravenclaw common room when the sound of wet squelching footsteps echoed on the stone floor behind them as a small girl rounded the corner and skidded to a halt at the sight of them. She was short with long hair and was gripping her wand in one hand and a book in the other, Harry didn't recognise her as a Ravenclaw and tensed slightly. He didn't point it at her, but he carefully retrieved his wand and held it loosely by his side as she opened her mouth to speak.

"S-sorry I was sent by Professor McGonagall for H-Harry Potter?" She explained with a minor stutter and a heavy blush as she spoke his name.

"Professor McGonagall wants me? Why? I thought we were meant to go to our dormitories?" Harry asked, his suspicions were somewhat alleviated by the knowledge that if it was a trick, he could defend himself against a first year.

"I'm not sure, she just sent me to fetch you and take you to her and then I'm to go to the Gryffindor common room as well." The girl looked nervous and leaned in towards them before she added. "I think there's been another attack, I heard another Hufflepuff girl was petrified near the bathroom on the second floor."

"What?!" The girl stepped back at his shocked outburst, afraid of his reaction and it took several deep breaths for Harry's panic to settle. If another Hufflepuff girl was attacked, what if it was Susan?

"Okay lead the way, Terry you better head back into the common room, I'll let you know what's happened when I get back." Harry pushed Terry towards the waiting stone eagle, and he reluctantly nodded his head, muttering an answer to the eagle's riddle and stepping past it into the tower.

"So where are we supposed to meet Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked as the first-year girl led him down the corridor and towards a tall suit of armour stood in front of a tapestry. At a whispered word, the suit of armour bowed to the girl and stepped aside, lifting the tapestry to reveal a hidden passageway behind it. Harry resolved to find out the password for this secret passageway, the few he had found so far were tremendously useful for navigating the castle.

"The second floor, in the bathroom, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick should be waiting there for us." The girl stepped through a seemingly solid patch of stone wall and as Harry followed, his wand held aloft and ready to defend himself, he stepped out into … an ordinary corridor. Although they were now two floors down and halfway across the castle despite only having walked for twenty seconds in the secret passageway. Definitely one to remember.

The door to the bathroom was closed when they arrived but the girl seemed unsurprised, she pushed open the door and led Harry inside before it closed slowly behind them. Instead of Professor McGonagall waiting for them, the bathroom was empty apart from some puddles around the sinks and a few wet footprints leading to the closed doors.

"I thought Professor McGonagall was meeting us here?" Harry asked as he moved slightly further into the bathroom, expanding his awareness as much as he could for any signs of an ambush. So far there was nothing, the usual enchantments that filled the school and the girl were the only things in the room with him.

"That's what I was told yes." The girl stepped closer to the sinks and inspected her reflection in them for a few moments as Harry continued his wary examination of the room.

There was something strange about this room, maybe it was paranoia taking hold but something about the sinks wasn't right, the enchantments that threaded through them were almost entirely green and red. Not the green and red he was used to from the rest of the school enchantments either, this was a deep green, almost like his own magic, and a dark blood-red. It was only a small difference, the rest of the enchantment looked identical to the rest of the castle's magic and despite his lessons with Castamir, he couldn't decipher the meanings of the enchantments nor translate their runes. It was well beyond his current ability, but it still raised his suspicions further and as he turned to warn the girl to step away from the sinks she struck.

"Open!" The shock of hearing parseltongue from the girl slowed his reactions just enough that as he raised his wand, he didn't have time to cast before the doors behind him shot forward to collide with his back. He barely kept a grip on his wand and cane as he felt himself be forced forward and down as the sinks separated to reveal an open tunnel leading down into the depths of the castle.

Whatever was down there would be bad, of that he was certain but as he cast a transfiguration at the wall of the tunnel to create a platform, the spell struck against the stones and washed away across the enchantments embedded in them.

"What is going on here?!" Echoed from above him as he fell tumbling down the nearly sheer tunnel, bouncing and rolling down the smooth stone. He scrabbled for a handhold, a jutting stone or a crack he could grip to slow himself, but the tunnel was perfectly smooth and there were no flaws he could exploit.

The last thing he heard from above, before the sound of grinding stone drowned it out, was a male voice crying out in pain and a vicious cackle that triggered faint memories in his subconscious, buried deep.

A flash of green.

A woman's scream.

Darkness.

END

Chapter Text

Authors Notes

Hello everyone! Another chapter for you and I have to say, this was a fun one to write. I had three ways this scene could go and of the options I think this is my favourite, it showcases Harry's skill without making him seem ridiculously overpowered (because he shouldn't be) and it teases some of the 'higher magic' which he is yet to learn.

A big thank you to everyone who has Favourited, Followed and Reviewed! I can't believe there are over 700 of you following this story and over 500 who have favourited it, its an incredible feeling to know so many people like what I have written so thank you all for your support. Please continue to show your support, leave a review if you like what I've written, I read all of them and I love seeing what you all think. Even if you don't like it, let me know what you would do differently!

Reviews

Griffin Blackwood - I hope that's a good OMG and not a bad one haha! Thank you for sticking with this story for so long, you have been one of my longest running reviewers and I always look forward to seeing what you think!

Maelstrom15 - Thank you so much! I am glad you like it, and if you like Malfoy's portrayal in the previous chapters, I hope you like what I'll be doing with him going forward. I think he is a criminally underused character. As for the Fulgomancy, I don't want to spoil it but the way I see it is that the whole "eyes are windows to the soul" thing originates from the magical world and will be more important in later chapters as more complex magics are explored.

Tinkerbell love - Thank you very much, im glad you're enjoying it! I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations!

Chapter 20

Thankfully the bouncing and tumbling fall turned into a slightly more gentle slide, he still wasn't able to slow himself but by the time he had recovered from the abuse of the initial fall and regained his senses he was able to prepare for his eventual landing. As soon as he could tell the tunnel was opening and ending he pointed his wand at his legs and cast the charm he had learned after his first Flying lesson.

"Cadens mollere!"

He was just in time as the tunnel spat him out into a small cavern at great speed, sending him hurtling out and at the floor. But instead of breaking his legs and ankles on the uneven ground, the impact dissipated across the charm he had cast leaving him no worse than if he had stepped off a slide in the park. Except the lingering dizziness. And the bruises he could feel forming from his time in the tunnel from the girls bathroom.

The cavern Harry had landed in seemed to be more of a natural formation than the tunnel, there were a few broken stalctites reaching down from the ceiling but the floor was well worn in most places and a layer of broken detritus lay scattered all around. A closer look revealed most of the floor was covered in broken bone, mostly small animal bones but a few larger pieces looked to be almost dog sized.

As Harry stood and took a moment to observe his surroundings, a faint creaking echoed from ahead. At the end of the cavern was a passageway, and at the very end of his awareness he could detect some kind of doorway at the end of it.

"Mutatio Saxum."

As it had when he had first fallen into the tunnel, his magic washed across the bottom of the tunnel like a gentle wave against a cliff, it could find no purchase on the enchanted stonework.

"Well I guess I'm exploring the deeper into the creepy cave then." He muttered to himself as he picked his way through the broken bones until he reached the passageway and then the doorway at the end. Doorway was underselling it really. Thirty feet wide, the solid metal disc was decorated with intricately detailed snakes, four extended out from a central point their bodies melding together in the middle, while the fifth and largest encircled the perimiter of the doorway. Each snake had two gems embedded for eyes and the whole thing was enchanted, but oddly the threads of all four of the Founders' magic were present. Whatever this doorway led to, the Founders were aware of it and all four had at least helped in creating the door to it.

"Open?"

The four cardinal snakes shuddered and began to retract, sinking back until only their four heads remained in the middle of the door as the snake that encircled the door also retracted until it's body only extended a few feet along the left-most edge. Hinged on that left side, the door swung outwards with a heavy creak to reveal another cavern. As Harry carefully stepped past the door, he couldn't help but marvel at the thickness and the enchantments that protected it. It had more enchantments bound into the nearly metre thick door than anything Harry had ever seen before.

"Ah welcome Harry, come in. You don't want to be caught in the door's way when it closes I promise you that." The advice seemed sensible as Harry stepped through and the titanic door closed behind him with a heavy clunk.

The warning came from an odd figure stood in the middle of the Chamber ahead. Stood in front of an enormous carving of a bearded man's head was a young man, he looked to be around sixteen but what was most strange was how clear he was in Harry's sight. His Fulgomancy allowed him to perceive his surroundings completely, he was aware of everything around him up to a certain distance but fine details were difficult for him to see, he had to focus his attention on something to see minor details, bumps and curves that make up a face were blurred to him. It was a trade off he had grown to live with, but the boy stood there was clear in his sight. He could see every line of his face, the faint wrinkles of his knuckles as he gripped his wand loosely at his side. His robes were less detailed, more what he was used to but it was still incredible. His colour was almost identical to Harry's own green as well.

But then his surroundings sank in; the serpentine sconces on the walls, the channels of water that ran down either side of the Chamber to meet just behind the prone figure of the young girl who had led him to the bathroom. The girl was sprawled out, occasionally twitching but throughout it all the little black book was clutched firmly to her chest.

"Oh don't worry about young Ginevra, she doesn't have all that long left anyway." The young man waved Harry over, smiling broadly as he did so. "Come on, we need to introduce oursleves properly."

"Ginevra? Wait is that Ginny Weasley?"

"Yes yes, but as I said she doesn't have long left, best to let her go in peace no?" The strangely distinct figure shook his head, the smile vanishing as he did so to be replaced with a serious expression. "Now you go first. Introduce yourself, the formalities must be observed between two wizards such as ourselves."

"What? What do you mean she's not got long left?" The serious expression fell into a twisted sneer as the boy violently shook his head again.

"No no no. We introduce ourselves, if you won't start then I will." The boy gave a mocking bow as he introduced himself. "I am Tom Marvolo Riddle, Heir of Slytherin, Master of the Chamber of Secrets."

"What? It's you behind the attacks?!" Harry pointed his wand at Riddle and took a step backwards, if the boy was really the Heir he must know advanced magic. "Why don't I recognise you? Is this some sort of spell to change your appearance?"

"My appearance? But you … oh … oh my. You really can't see properly can you? I had thought it a trick, a ruse from that old fool to make you seem even more talented. " Riddle laughed loudly, a cold and joyless sound that echoed cruelly in the Chamber. "I had thought it false, you navigate the castle well enough and the cane could be a stave or weapon to defend yourself but no, you really were injured that night! Fascinating, but then how do you get around so well little blind boy?"

A wave of Riddle's wand and a ripple of pure darkness swallowed a section of space in front of Harry, for a single breath his awareness faltered, the shadows at the edge of his perception clawed at his awareness as he struggled to maintain control. No one had ever torn away a section of his Fulgomancy before, except for the awful wall of fire back in his first year. It was terrifying to know he could be blinded by a wave of his enemies wand.

"Aha, so you use magic to perceive your surroundings? Fulgomancy? Interesting, very interesting. You must have been trained from a young age to use it so naturally, a unique talent. Not unlike my own ability with Legiliemncy, though of course I had no teacher for that, just the talent in my blood."

Harry did his best to settle his racing heart as sweat beaded on his forehead, his fear of losing his sight was as strong as ever and the knowledge that Riddle could take it from him kept him from reacting. He stood frozen as he desperately tried to think of a way to escape the situation.

"But that is not the mystery I need to solve tonight. No, I want to know why Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard who ever lived, fell to a baby." Riddle sneered as he pointed at Harry who couldn't help but flinch at the gesture.

"What? Nobody knows what happened, it was in all the papers, I don't even know!"

"You must know! The Dark Lord was undefeated, he beat every opponent until you!" Riddle's previously cultured tone began to slip as he demanded answers, his voice becoming less controlled as he raged.

"I mean he never defeated Dumbledore." Harry didn't know why he was antagonising the boy, clearly he or his family were supporters of Voldemort. The information had just popped into his head when Riddle mentioned him being undefeated, there were multiple articles and reports on the Dark Lord's encounters with Dumbledore and none had ended in a 'win'. On one occasion, Voldemort only escaped because three of the Aurors turned on Dumbledore and his allies at the last moment.

"Albus Dumbledore has been driven from this school by the mere memory of Lord Voldemort! I am Lord Voldemort! I am the greatest sorcerer to wak the earth!" Riddle roared as he slashed his wand through the air, a trail of crimson flames erupting from the wandtip in his anger.

"You? You're only a teenager? Voldemort was born decades ago you lunatic!" Harry shouted as he stumbled back away from the heat.

"We are one and the same Harry, Voldemort is a pseudonym my companions gave me. It is more fitting of a champion of Slytherin than my filthy father's name. But I am wise and cautious, I took precautions so that even if my body was destroyed I would endure. I stored a piece of my sixteen year-old self in my diary, an extraordinary feat of magic, but I was not done! No I enchanted my diary further, so that it could use the life force of a willing host to resurrect me. Poor Ginevra was desperate for a friend, an older student to guide her through her first year." Riddle bragged as he raised his arm up to his face and turned his wand over in his hands. "Even now she gives her life, her soul so that I might regain my physical form."

In fact even as they spoke, Riddle's form seemed to be growing fuzzier if anything, more like normal than it had been. As it grew less detailed, his colour shifted as well. The familiar green fading as crimson and black bled through to overwhelm it.

"There is nothing you can do Potter, I had thought perhaps you were hiding some great power, that you defeated me through accidental magic. But no, I see now you are just a boy, it must have been your parents that slew me. You are talented for a second year Potter, but you are no match for the Heir of Slytherin. By morning the school will be closed, you will be dead and I will have returned to my full power." Riddle turned to face the statue behind him and when he spoke again it was in the sibillant tones of Parseltongue. "Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four. Your Heir needs your aid."

Immediately the faint sound of trickling water was drowned out by the grinding of heavy stone as the jaw of the statue slowly descended to reveal an opening that led into the depths of the stone carving. As the statue stopped and the Chamber settled, a heavy rustling escaped the now wide maw of Slytherin as a shape moved in the dark recess. As the monster emerged from its resting place, Harry felt a sickening dread sink into him. The shape was unmistakably serpentine but it was the haze of caustic magic that preceded it that gave Harry a hint of what had been hiding beneath the castle for so long. A vaguely conical cloud of acidic orange and yellow shifted as the great snake turned it's head, it's gaze, to observe the Chamber and it's inhabitants. It's head was angular and crested with ridges and spines and each scale on the beast was a foot long and shimmered with dull green and grey magic.

"I obey the blood of the Speaker." The low rasping voice shook the ground and Harry could feel his chest vibrate with its words.

"Do you recognise her Potter?" Some sign of the primal terror that he was feeling must have shown as Riddle let out another cruel chuckle. "The myth's and legends do not do her justice, do they? This is Euryale, the last of the Gorgons. Salazar passed her off as a lesser Basilisk, one of her sister's descendents, when he first brought her to the Castle and introduced her to the other Founders. They believed her to be a lesser magical creature, no more dangerous than Helga's Hafgufa, and allowed him to keep her here as a final defender in case the Castle's protections were ever breached. But Salazar was wise and cunning, Euryale was no offspring of Herpo's creations. Salazar brought one of the original Basilisk's to Hogwarts, to protect it from all threats, within or without!"

Harry didn't know much about Basilisk's, but the Gorgons were well known even in the Muggle world and he had read the stories of Perseus many years ago. The stories differed over the centuries but generally the Gorgons were known as three sisters who were cursed or transformed by a god into serpentine monsters that could turn men to stone with a glance. His only hope, as he slowly stepped back and away from the colossal snake, was that it's petrifying gaze wouldn't affect him because of his blindness.

"Goodbye Harry Potter, it is a pity to waste talent such as yours, I considered granting you an honourable death in a duel, the last Slytherin and the last Potter, but I cannot risk history repeating itself. I will give Dumbledore your regards when I visit him next. Kill the boy, Euryale."

At the instruction from Riddle, the enormous snake, sixty feet long at least, lunged forward with a speed that was unnatural for a creature of it's size and weight. It was only Harry's instinctual casting of his shield spell that saved his life.

"Arx Murum!" The shield that surrounded him was perhaps the strongest he had ever conjured, each hexagonal section was an inch thick and magic overflowed from the plates in a thick mist in Harry's sight. It made him feel safe and secure as he readied himself for what he was sure would be a heavy blow to his protection.

His sight slowly returned as he sank to the cold floor on the other side of the Chamber, sliding down the chiselled stone blocks he had struck. The shield had been shattered completely and had barely slowed the Basilisk's strike, just deflecting it enough that he was sent flying across the room as the serpent created a crater in the stone floor where he had been standing moments before. His chest and back burned with pain and he was grateful he had somehow kept a grip on his cane as he levered himself painfully to his feet.

"I admit, I'm impressed Potter. To even deflect her is no easy feat. But do you think you have another one in you? I doubt it." The sound of Riddle's taunting was muffled as Harry leaned against the wall and his cane, his left leg felt hot and sticky and his head ached awfully but he could still stand. The door to the Chamber was closed firmly and even if he could reach it before the Basilisk struck again, he was almost certain he wouldn't be able to open it. Besides, he couldn't leave Ginny behind, the poor girl would die soon if her rapidly fading magic was anything to go by. The only silver lining was that he was still breathig, he hadn't been turned to stone or petrified just from being looked at by the Basilisk which was a good sign that his blindness really would be an advantage in this situation.

It was ironic, Harry had spent days researching spiders, he knew dozens of ways to confuse and deter them but he knew very little about snakes, in hindsight he should have realised Slytherin's monster would be some kind of magical serpent. He knew that most reptiles were cold-blooded, that several species of snake had venom and others constricted their prey, and finally that they laid eggs like birds. He desperately scrambled for an idea as the Basilisk reared back for another strike, the venom and constriction facts were useless to him and unless he planned to raise one he didn't need to know about it's reproductive cycle. It was probably cold-blooded, that meant it needed heat from external sources to stay alive and comfortable. He needed cold.

"Gelidum Pruina!"

It was sloppy but as the thick cloud of frozen air burst from his wand, it was enough to cause the snake to abandon its lunging strike in favour of letting out a deafening hiss as it retreated briefly from the sudden cold. However the respite was only momentary as the mist quickly dispersed, the Chamber was warm and the cold air couldn't hold its shape for long in such an environment. The snake's response to the cold air was enough to give Harry some small measure of hope though; he had found a weakness.

"Oh very good Harry, very clever. But a little cold air won't save you for long. Ignore the cold, kill the boy! He is an enemy of Slytherin!" Riddle instructed the Basilisk as he pointed his wand at the creature and a ripple of red ran down the length of it's body, soothing it as steam wafted from it's huge head. Harry recognised the spell Riddle had used, he had seen older students use it in winter, it protected the object of the spell from the cold, keeping them at a steady temperature. The spell had limits, it wouldn't protect you from the arctic but it was enough to stop any of the simpler spells Harry knew.

With the few seconds he had before the Basilisk turned it's attention back onto him, Harry moved along the perimiter of the Chamber, inching closer to where Riddle stood. He had the vague beginnings of a plan, but he needed some time to recover and gather his strength and he hoped the Basilisk would be more cautious if it might endanger Riddle when it attacked.

His guess was correct as the Baislisk let out an angered hiss before lowering it's head and slithering closer instead of striking from above again, this delay let Harry limp close enough to Riddle that he could begin putting his plan into action.

"Riddle! If you don't call off the snake, I'll stop you from recovering your body!" He shouted as he leant heavily against his cane and pointed his wand out in front of him. Even as he spoke, the enormous Basilisk slithered closer, it's head was taller than he was and it was close enough that he could hear it breathing as it opened its maw to reveal two wicked rows of jagged teeth clearly designed to rend flesh and bone apart.

Inhale.

"How will you do that Potter? In this form I am untouchable and my anchor indestructable, you cannot harm me boy!" Riddle spat the final word at him in an eerily similar way to how Vernon used to, though his grin was infinitely colder.

Exhale.

"I might not be able to hurt you Riddle." Harry swung his wand down and to the left, steeling his heart to what he needed to do as he gathered magic, letting it build with each breath. "But I can hurt her."

Inhale.

For a moment the world froze around them. The Basilisk stopped moving a few paces behind Harry, it's mouth open and ready to bite down on its prey but stopped by some hidden signal from its master as Riddle stared at Harry in silence.

Exhale.

"You are bluffing."

Inhale.

"To stop you? To stop the man who killed my parents from coming back to life?" Harry's arm trembled as a bead of blue light flickered at the tip of his wand, his grip on his wand was slick as blood from some unnoticed cut trickled down his arm. Riddle seemed taken aback by Harry's repsonse and studied him in silence before he responded with a smug smile.

Exhale.

"Yes, you are bluffing. You lack the key element to being a truly great sorcerer Harry. You lack the ambition. You need a goal. You need to be willing to do anything. To sacrifice everything to achieve your dreams Potter. You need to be ruthless." Riddle shook his head and twitched his hand. "You just don't have it in you Potter, you don't have the killer instinct."

Inhale.

The Basilisk reared up until it's jaw was a dozen feet from the ground as Harry lowered his wand from Ginny's prone form and let out a long slow breath, his grip on his cane twisting as he tensed his body involuntarily.

Exhale.

"FROJSA LOGI!" Harry screamed as he spun and unleashed the magic he had been gathering straight up and into the descending monster's mouth. A conflagration of white and blue flames erupted from his wand and cascaded into and through the Basilisk's mouth and throat, scales along its head and jaw cracked to reveal black and blistering flesh beneath as patches of glistening ice formed where the cold-fire burned. The screech it let out as it thrashed it's head was deafening, dust and stones fell from the ceiling as the walls and floor trembled at it's anguish. Whether through spite or the magic that bound it, the enormous serpent turned its attention back onto Harry as the last of the glacial flame sputtered from his wand and even as great chunks of icy scale and frozen flesh broke from it's body, it struck down towards him.

"Cold! The prey burns me with cold!" The Basilisk's cries of agony and fury were deafening as it thrashed and the few words Harry could make out amongst its screamed hissing were broken and nonsensical.

One of it's eyes was all but ruined, a blackened orb of dead tissue, along with much of the right side of the huge serpent's head as white bone gleamed between strands of pink and black muscle, but it's aim was true enough that it was able to half collapse and half bite down on Harry as he knelt on the stone floor. For his part, Harry barely had the strength to raise his head, the spell he had cast was a potent elemental spell and he had only practiced it once before quickly deciding it was beyond him. Fear for one's life was a powerful motivational tool though and he had conjured it near-perfectly on this occasion, though his wand hand was now numb from the cold the spell gave off. He couldn't raise his wand in time to cast from it, but his hand still gripped his cane as he leant against it though. With a desperate squeeze of the warm wood that he had trusted for many years to keep him from falling, he tried to cast a spell through it.

"Arx Murum"

He knew that it took training and discipline to wield magic through a stave, they were not just longer wands they were entirely different focuses and required very different mindsets to use them. But in that moment, it didn't matter. He trusted his cane, it would not fail him. Even as the Basilisk's maw surrounded him and began to close, he did not doubt his stave. It would aid him as it always had.

The magic his stave produced as it drew greedily from his own was not what he expected to create. Instead of the usual dome of magic to protect him, strands of light burst from his stave like branches and roots from a tree. Pale green and deep brown tendrils that struck the ground around him and lanced into the approaching jaws of the great serpent, partly-frozen flesh sizzled and burned where these projections struck and lines of light formed a fragile cage around him that halted the Basilisk's attempt to impale him on it's jagged teeth. The great snake thrashed and writhed as it struggled against the magic that anchored it in place, blood and bile sprayed as it tore free from its place with a sharp crack and reared up to reveal the full conjuration and the damage it had wrought.

The cage around Harry's slumped form was made up of tendrils of light, branches of frozen lightning that flickered and burned around him with forks buried into the stone and jagged spikes speared into the air around him. Even as the Basilisk rose up, swaying as it did, blood and viscera fell and burned against the magic. The wounds the Basilisk had sustained were grievous, gouges carved into its head and swathes of frozen and cracked scales had left it looking half-dead and as it swayed unsteadily above Harry it let out a low mournful groan before collapsing to the floor as shuddering breaths and spasms racked its form.

The immobile cage of light that surrounded Harry dimmed and faded with a crackle leaving him kneeling in a pool of dark blood and slowly melting ice as he gasped for breath, there was a sharp pain every time he took a breath and a slow burn was growing in his arm as he tried and failed to climb to his feet.

"What…what was that magic?" Riddle whispered from his place in front of Ginny's body. His arrogant smirk was gone, replaced by a deep frown and a flicker of fear. "You should not be able to conjure such magic. That is impossible!"

Harry didn't bother trying to reply as he had found the source of the burning pain in his arm. Jutting from his torn sleeve was the broken tip of one of the serpent's jagged teeth. The broken edge was gilded with frost, it had likely snapped off when the Basilisk retreated from the magic his stave had wrought. With a trembling hand he grabbed the edge of the bloody fang and slid it free from its place in his arm with a low gasp of pain, the Basilisk echoed his gasp with it's own final shuddering breath before it stilled, it's tired and beaten form falling silent.

A trickle of blood escaped the rough hole the fang had left in his arm as he sank back onto the stone floor and did his best to staunch the blood as he took short sharp breaths. The burning in his arm hadn't stopped with the removal of the fang, in fact as he sat pressing his sleeve into the wound the heat was travelling up his arm, growing in intensity as it did. It felt like fire was burning in his veins as it reached his shoulder and he couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips as he shifted in place.

"You… you were bitten by her? Oh Potter, you defeated my monster it's true, but the Basilisk's venom is a death sentence. It looks like this will be your last miraculous act Harry Potter." Riddle laughed cruelly again as he stepped closer and leaned down to peer at Harry. "Yes it looks like you don't have long, it is a shame to lose Euryale but it is worth it to take you off the board Potter. I will pay a visit to that old fool Dumbledore next I think, I will tell him how you died bravely Potter. And then I will kill him as well."

"Dumbledore … Dumbledore will beat you … he did it when you were decades …. decades older … a teenager doesn't stand a chance." Harry muttered even as his sight flickered, his awareness shrinking as the burning pain touched his chest and exploded across his body. Every inch of his body was burning, even his eyes that were usually numb and unfeeling suddenly blazed with pain as fire erupted through his veins.

"Goodbye Harry Po-" The voice of Riddle cut off as the fire that raged in Harry's body had apparently escaped him, he could hear the crackling of flames as he struggled for breath. "A Phoenix? Ahh Dumbledore's pet, come just in time to see the boy die then?"

As the heat continued, his muscles spasming and his heart thumping erratically, Harry felt a new sensation interrupt the pain. If the venom's heat was a campfire, this new feeling was akin to the sun in comparison. Fire scorched through his arm, leaving behind a cool relief as it spread up and across his chest. Where the blaze passed, it replaced the pain with bliss. His breathing evened out as his heart slowed to a more regular beat, he could feel pins prickling across his skin as he pushed for his sight to extend out from him again.

The Chamber was mostly unchanged, except now there was a large bird perched on the stone floor beside him, it's head bowed close to his arm. The bird was filled with a raging fire, orange and red and white and blue burned within every feather and it's eyes were piercing black coals that peered intently at him.

"What? How…Phoenix tears. I had thought they were a myth, but you sacrificed your tears for this boy? Why? He will only die by my hand now you foolish bird." Riddle raised his wand and pointed it down at Harry's prone form as red magic gathered ready to lash out at him.

Or it would have if the Phoenix didn't flare it's wings in protest, a sharp cry cutting through the silent Chamber causing Riddle to cry out in pain and clutch at his head. The cry was loud but it didn't sound that awful to Harry, however he wasn't going to waste this opportunity. He scrabbled to his feet, snatching his cane from the floor and, after a moment's hesitation, the broken fang as well before he rushed past the still distracted Riddle.

Ginny lay unconscious behind the young Dark Lord, her magic was pale and flickered like a candle in the wind but it was still there even as wisps of it drifted from her chest, through the little black book she clutched, and into Riddle's slowly solidifying form. A loud bang echoed from behind him as Riddle recovered enough to banish the Phoenix across the Chamber with a furious shout. As he cast the spell, the magic he drew from Ginny pulsed but more interestingly the seemingly mundane book also pulsed. In fact, the book seemed to collect more wisps of the girl's magic around itself, only letting some of it pass along to the Riddle's physical form.

The book must be enchanted, Harry realised as he grabbed it from Ginny's limp grip and staggered a few paces away from her. The draw of magic from her slowed, but even without close contact it seemed to retain some conenction to the girl as smaller fragments of her magic tore free to drift to the book. As Riddle turned to face him, Harry dropped the book and, hoping his instinct were correct, stabbed down at it with the fang in his other hand.

"I'm finishing this now Pot – NO!" Riddle shouted as the fang struck the leather cover, piercing the protection and gouging into the parchment beneath.

The book flashed as grey and black strands of magic shivered into being around it, runes and threads of enchantments unravelling as the fang's venom did it's grim work. Another stab and a wave of foreign anguish shot through Harry as the book shook against the ground, a puddle of ichorous ink bleeding from the two wounds he had carved into its cover. Great tangles and knots of magic were drifting and breaking free from the enchanted book as Riddle screamed in pain and fury, his wand falling from suddenly intangible fingers.

"NO! I am the Heir of Slytherin! I am immortal! I cannot be de-" A third and final stab from the fang destroyed what was left of the magic and Riddle's form vanished, no trace of the Dark Lord's younger form remained. Only a stained and ragged book with three holes in it's cover, devoid of it's previous malevolence.

As Harry let the fang clatter to the floor and let out a sigh of relief, the Phoenix winged across the Chamber to land next to him. It slid the book away with one clawed talon and let out a triumphant cry. Harry couldn't help but chuckle as the adrenaline faded and the realisation of what had happened, how close he had come to death, sank in.

"You're a Phoenix? Professor Dumbledore's Phoenix? And you used your tears to heal me?" He asked the majestic creature as he struggled to process what had happened. Hagrid had told him about Phoenixes; they were only born when a magical fire claimed lives, from the ashes of the fires a Phoenix would rise. Nobody knew why or could predict it and it didn't always happen. The Phoenix was then essentially immortal, they would live and age for a few years before dying in a burst of flame and hatching again from the ashes. More relevant though, was that their tears could heal almost anything, however they could only cry once per life and only a few tears each time. It was a potent gift and an incredible honour.

Instead of replying or acknowledging his query, the Phoenix trilled softly and turned in the direction of the still unconscious body of Ginny Weasley. The girl was breathing and her magic had settled, though it was visibly weakened and looked fragile in Harry's sight.

"She needs help doesn't she? I don't even know how to get out of here let alone get her to the Hospital Wing." Harry muttered, mostly to himself, as he shifted his focus from the girl to the still closed doorway at the other end of the Chamber. "I'm not sure I can open the bloody door for a start."

Another gentle trill echoed from the Phoenix as it flapped its wings and glided across to a small alcove tucked away on the right-hand side of the still open statue of Slytherin.

"Oh I suppose that's how Ginny … or I suppose Riddle? Either way, that must be how they got down here." Harry pondered as he climbed to his feet and stepped across to Ginny. "Wingardium Leviosa. Right, I'll just follow you shall I?" He asked as he walked across the Chamber, giving the mangled corpse of the Basilisk a wide berth as he did so, with Ginny floating behind him.

The alcove extended into a short corridor before it reached a long winding staircase, the Phoenix flew gracefully around the staircase and waited for him every few minutes as he steadily climbed, careful to avoid hitting Ginny's head or legs against the hard stone walls.

"It's less painful than the way I got down here I'll give you that, but my way was much quicker." The Phoenix let out a warbling chuckle at his joke and Harry continued the one-sided conversation as he continued climbing the stairs until finally they reached the top where a dim stained glass window waited for them. It was difficult to tell in Harry's sight but it seemed to depict a castle in the background with four animals playfully dancing in front of it; a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake.

Before Harry could consider what the key to opening or unlocking the gateway it hid could be, the Phoenix hopped into the air and flew straight through the tall stained glass window, the surface of the glass faintly rippling as it did so. Harry shook his head and tried not to think too hard about what he was doing as he stepped up to and then through the glass, hoping it functioned like the barrier at Kings Cross and that you didn't need a password or spell to use it.

Thankfully he was able to step through the glass unhindered and as his head passed through the slightly warm glass barrier, his awareness switched from a dim stairway to the bathroom he had been tricked into only an hour or so before. The bathroom was in a much worse state than it had been when he fell down the passageway though; broken chunks of stone and splinter sof wood covered the floor and lying unconcsious in a puddle of … something was Lockhart. In the open doorway Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were stood with their wands drawn as they shouted down the hallway.

Whether it was the Phoenix's cry or the sound of Harry's cane tapping on the stone floor, both professor's turned to see him stepping around the broken pieces of sink and both let out gasps of shock and horror at the sight of him. With blood and viscera in his hair and spattered across his robes, one sleeve was soaked in blood and the other was singed and slightly burned, he knew he looked a state as he reached the doorway and gently manouevred Ginny to hover alongside him.

"I think she needs Madam Pomphrey." Harry said as Professor McGonagall looked between his bloody form and the hovering unconscious girl, the usually unflappable Transfiguration Mistress was stunned momentarily and only broke from her state when Professor Flitwick grabbed Harry and pulled him down into a hug.

"What on earth happened to you Mr Potter? And where did you find Miss Weasley?" Professor McGonagall asked as Flitwick released Harry and patted him on the arm.

"That's a long story professor, but I really do think she needs to see Madam Pomphrey. She's been enchanted or possessed or something and her magic was being drained." Both professor's looked horrified by his announcement and Professor McGonagall immediately took control of the hover charm Harry had placed on Ginny as she gestured for Harry to follow her. Professor Flitwick fell into step alongside Harry as Professor McGonagall led the way to the Hospital Wing with Ginny floating along beside her. "Shouldn't we bring Lockhart with us Professor?" Harry asked as he noticed the still unconscious form of the defence professor still slumped by the door.

"Oh yes I suppose we should." Flitwick agreed, flicking his wand in the man's direction as they walked away. A moment later Lockhart's body slid free from the broken toilet stall door it lay upon and slowly slipped across the stone floor behind them, bumping into and then sliding along the wall as they rounded a corner. In Harry's sight he could see an intangible thread connecting Professor Flitwick's wand to the defence professor's left foot and it was this thread that was pulling the man along the floor so ungracefully. Harry could think of several less damaging ways to move a person than the Charms Master's method and was about to suggest one when the man explained. "Professor McGonagall and I found Lockhart in the bathroom hiding in one of the stalls. He explained that you and Miss Weasley had disappeared from the room and then attempted to disarm the two of us and alter our memories. He failed."

Harry turned his attention briefly to Lockhart as his head struck a protruding flagstone with a painful crack and felt a small measure of pity for the man, but what did the fool expect to happen when he attacked an ex-duelling champion and one of the most acclaimed Transfiguration Master's in the world?

"… and then your Phoenix - "

"His name is Fawkes Harry, and he is no more mine than I am his." Professor Dumbledore corrected gently as the Phoenix in question trilled softly from his perch.

"Oh sorry Professor, sorry Fawkes. Well Fawkes cried and his tears healed me and then he sang or screeched and Riddle couldn't stand it, like it was deafening to him or something, so while he was distracted I moved to Ginny and I figured that the book was Riddle's anchor I guess? So I stabbed it with the fang and it hurt him and the book's magic so I did it again and again and then Riddle disappeared and the book stopped … bleeding ink?" Harry finished uncertainly as he gestured to the book that now sat innocently on the Headmaster's desk between them.

"Fascinating. You say your stave conjured a magical barrier that protected you from the Basilisk, but it was not a spell you know or have read about? Might I examine it for a moment?" Dumbledore asked as he leaned forward in his chair, tucking his long beard into his belt as he did so.

Harry nodded, though a small part of him didn't want to give up the cane that had saved his life even for a moment, and handed the cane across to the Headmaster who took it with a careful grip.

"This is Ollivander's work if I am not mistaken. Now I must admit I have never attempted this on a stave before, but I believe the principle remains the same. Priori Incantatem." As Dumbledore brushed the tip of his wand along the carvings on the cane, the lingering magic within the stave swirled and shifted until in bright burst of light, a misty image appeared around the cane mimicking the strange conjuration of jagged limbs and roots that the cane had produced in the Chamber. "Remarkable."

The image lingered for a few more seconds before it disippated and the runes along the cane dimmed until it looked like a relatively normal walking cane again. The Headmaster held it back out for Harry to take and ran a hand through his beard as he hummed in thought, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere above Harry's head as he pondered what he had seen.

"Did you recognise the spell, Professor?" Harry asked curiously, if he could learn how to cast it on command it might prove useful in a variety of situations.

"Somewhat. I have never cast it myself but I have seen something similar once many years ago. I believe he called it the Yggdrasil. A truly unique and potent conjuration of elemental magic I have not seen since, but you do seem to have a talent for such magic, not many students could summon Coldfyre and survive the attempt." Harry shrugged as he twisted his cane in his grip awkwardly, the spell had been a desperate attempt and not one he would be repeating any time soon. "Now I am afraid we are about to be interrupted."

There was no knock at the door, instead it was pushed open and Lucius Malfoy stepped in, putting less of his weight on his cane than he had the previous times Harry had seen him. The sight of Harry sat opposite Dumbledore almost caused him to misstep but he recovered and came to a stop a few feet from the door. A step or two behind the elder Malfoy was a surprising figure that Harry recognised immediately. Dobby, slouched and rubbing his bandaged hands together, stood sadly in Lucius Malfoy's shadow.

"Dumbledore I am surprised to see you have returned. I was asked by the Minister to come and find out what has been done about this Chamber of Secrets fiasco." Malfoy explained as he dipped his head in what could generously be called a bow. "And the Boy-Who-Lived, it is a pleasure to meet you Mr Potter."

"The Governors asked me to return, Lucius. Oddly it seems several of them were sent anonymous and very convincing threats, something about forcing me to resign or their children would be harmed." Dumbledore responded, his tone was pleasant but his eyes were locked onto Lucius' and his usually restrained magic had swelled, now it pressed down on the room like a heavy cloud waiting to break.

"How terrible, well we will have to have another meeting of the Governors to discuss your return then, perhaps after this business with the so-called Heir is dealt with?" Lucius played the role of the innocent well, but the tensing of his hand as he squeezed his cane in frustration was a familiar tell, it was one Harry shared with the man.

"I am glad you agree, the other Governors all believed that with the ongoing trouble and the disappearance of Miss Weasley, I should return to the school. They voted to reinstate me an hour ago." Dumbledore produced a rolled up piece of parchment with a flourish and placed it on his desk. Malfoy's smile fixed in place as he took the information in and nodded along with the Headmaster's explanation.

"I see. And the missing girl? The Heir? Has there been any progress? Has the culprit been identified?" The questions were spaced carefully but Harry thought he could hear an undercurrent of concern in Lucius' voice as he made his enquiries.

"Miss Weasley has been recovered and the Heir and his monster defeated, all by young Harry here. He is a remarkably skilled wizard already." Dumbledore smiled at Harry briefly before he resumed his stern observing of Malfoy.

"Indeed? How wonderful." Malfoy's smile grew strained as he looked Harry over, his eyes pausing on his cane before returning to his face. "And the culprit? Who was this 'Heir'?"

"The same person who opened the Chamber the last time. Lord Voldemort." At the name of the Dark Lord, Malfoy let out a hiss from behind gritted teeth as his left arm flexed involuntarily. "He used a rather ingenious method this time. A book, enchanted to possess and control an innocent child to do his bidding."

"How hideous." Malfoy spat as he eyed the damaged book on the desk. "We must report this to the Ministry."

"I quite agree. In fact, if any more of Voldemort's possessions make their way into this castle I will have to investigate the matter personally. I will allow the Auror's to investigate for now but if I have to get involved the consequences for the culprits will be severe." As Dumbledore spoke the oppressive weight of his magic seemed to double, like gravity had increased in the room as light bent around the Headmaster's still seated form. Harry was glad he was seated even as the wooden chair creaked heavily and Malfoy looked like he was barely able to remain standing, pale and trembling.

"I will ensure the warning is circulated." Malfoy bit out as he grit his teeth, but when the pressure didn't abate he slumped and added. "And compensation will be paid to the victims for their…suffering." Dumbledore smiled brightly and the weight disappeared, Harry didn't try to hide his breath of relief but Malfoy disguised his with a faux cough that fooled nobody.

"Excellent. Was there anything else, Lucius?" Dumbledore asked, though the dismissal was clear even to Harry's inexperienced ear.

"No. Good day Headmaster." Malfoy turned but paused and inclined his head in Harry's direction a fraction. "Mr Potter. Come Dobby." He didn't kick the House Elf as he stormed from the office, but it was a close thing as his toe clipped the Elf's long ears.

As the degraded Elf hobbled from the room with a quick bow in Harry and the Headmaster's direction, Harry couldn't help the swell of pity he felt for the beaten creature. A quick recollection of what he knew of House Elves and their bindings gave him an idea.

"Headmaster? Could I borrow that for a moment?" He gestured to the book on the desk as he loosened his tie from around his neck.

The Headmaster generously agreed with a mischievious grin and chuckled as Harry hobbled to the door to catch up to the Malfoy patriarch. He found him just as the tall blond wizard was rounding the corner that would lead to the grand staircase, the trademark tap-tap of his cane alerted the Malfoy to his approach and surprisingly the man turned and waited for him to near.

"Mr Malfoy, I thought you should have this." Harry threw the bundled up package he held as he approached which Malfoy caught without hesitation, though he did sneer when he realised what he had been given.

"And why, Mr Potter, would I need this?" Malfoy held up the damaged book, bound tightly closed by a strip of black fabric.

"Well because it's yours, isn't it? You slipped it into Ginny Weasley's cauldron outside Flourish & Blotts last year. I remember you fought with her father because Madam Bones left us to deal with it." He was admittedly guessing that Malfoy had slipped the girl the cursed book at that exact moment, but the rest added up perfectly.

"I see. And do you have any proof of this? The animosity between myself and Arthur Weasley is hardly a secret, but to accuse me without evidence would be … foolhardy." Malfoy smirked when Harry scowled and didn't offer up any additional information, tossing the book to Dobby as he stepped closer to Harry. "I must thank you Potter, I will ensure the … artifact is given to the appropriate authorities and the investigation will continue under my careful supervision. Come Dobby."

Malfoy stalked smugly away but stopped when he wasn't followed, he didn't turn back but he did tap his cane impatiently as he called out.

"Dobby! You will not disobey my orders again, I told you to follow me all day so do so!"

"Master has given Dobby clothes." Came the hesitant reply. Immediately Malfoy whirled and eyed the Elf who stood holding the book in one hand and the strip of fabric that bound it in the other, except now the charm to change its colour had faded to reveal the blue and bronze stripes of Harry's Ravenclaw tie.

"What? I didn't give you … Potter! You have cost me my servant!" Malfoy stormed across the corridor and for a moment the man's grip on his cane tightened as he seemed to struggle to resist the urge to lash out. With a deep breath he mastered himself though and instead he leaned in close to whisper harshly in Harry's ear. "Your parents interfered in affairs that didn't concern them as well, always playing the hero. It was a pity what happened to them." Malfoy straightened and smirked cruelly. "I had wanted to deal with your mudblood mother myself, I had to settle for her friend instead. Ask one of your teacher's about Mary McDonald sometime. Let her fate be a warning to you, Potter, on what happens when you cross me."

Harry didn't relax his grip on his wand until the elder Malfoy had descended the stairs and left his awareness completely, only then did he sag back against the wall and take several deep shuddering breaths. That had been foolish, but Dobby's cheerful whooping and joyous cries were worth it. He hoped.

END

Chapter Text

Author's Notes

Hey everyone! Another chapter, this one is a bit shorter and less exciting than the Basilisk fight, but it does cover some important world building/exposition. I hope you like it even without the action and drama of the previous chapter. Once again, thank you to everyone who has Favourited, Followed and Reviewed. I am blown away by the support this story has received and it is truly appreciated. Please continue to show your support and share with your friends and please leave a Review if you like it or even if you don't, I welcome constructive criticism!

Also a big shoutout to Griffin Blackwood who has supported this fic from almost the beginning and consistently leaves reviews to let me know he is still following. It means a lot to have that kind of support so big thanks to you Griffin!

Reviews

JinxedKnight - Thanks for reviewing. They won't see it any time soon, but the legend will build and the rumours will spread.

Guest - Thank you for the correction, I will go back and change the chapters where this is relevant.

griffin blackwood - Thank you for the review! I am glad you liked Kyrre, she has gone through several iterations and actually started out as Hedwig/a snowy owl but I wanted to change the companion to suit Harry's changed character.

Maelstrom15 - Thank you! Yes I have said it before and I will say it again, but Lucius Malfoy is criminally underused. He won't be the "main villain" in this story, but he is definitely up there as one of the worst. This Lucius Malfoy rose to Voldemort's Inner Circle through cunning, skill with his wand and an absolute disregard for any morals. He will not let anything stand between him and his goals.

WARNING

This chapter starts to bring some darker aspects to the forefront. There is mention of implied rape/abuse and some gore so please read on at your own risk. I am considering changing the rating to an 'M' as I think some of the "villain's" actions will go too far for just a 'T' rating. Let me know what you think and if you think the rating should be changed please.

Chapter 21

The atmosphere around the castle shifted dramatically the morning the petrified students were revived and released from the Hospital Wing; the professors clearly realised little work would be done so they announced that classes were cancelled for the day. Harry had been examined by Madam Pomphrey after his meeting with the Headmaster and she had announced him to be in excellent condition despite his exhaustion, the bruises and broken bones he had received during his time in the Chamber were entirely healed and even his scarred hand was improved, though not completely. The Medi-Witch had regretfully informed him that the Phoenix tears had done nothing for his eyes or the scar across the top of his face, but he took the unsurprising news stoically. He had long ago come to terms with his blindness, he had gifts that more than made up for it.

Only a day after the students were revived, Hagrid returned to the castle, sidling into the Great Hall at lunch as stealthily as the half-giant could. He had been deeply apologetic about the Acromantula incident when Harry explained what had happened, insisting that he would be having stern words with 'Aragog' the Acromantula patriarch. The man had refused to speak of his time in Azkaban, but his pallid skin and visible exhaustion spoke volumes to his experience there. He had been held in the low security cells thanks to the Headmaster's insistence and his own actions in the war, but even so, prolonged exposure to the prison's guards could have awful effects.

The majority of the school moved on fairly quickly after the student's were revived, a few even apologised to Harry for suspecting him of being the Heir. The truth that Ginny had been possessed wasn't shared, only that it was a cursed artefact that had caused the opening of the Chamber and that a Ravenclaw had stopped it. While Ginny's role had remained remarkably unknown, Harry was asked by several classmates if it was him who ventured into the Chamber and, despite his repeated denials, the rumours around his actions grew as the days passed.

As for Lockhart, he had been stuck in the Hospital Wing for almost a week before he regained consciousness, although Harry suspected Madam Pomphrey could have healed him quicker had she wished to. Word of his attempted attack on Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick filtered through the school and when he was escorted to the gates by a gleeful Professor Sprout and collected by two wizards in long dark overcoats, well the rumours exploded. Some said he was arrested for trying to kill the professors, others heard that he had been using illegal memory charms on older students, a few of the blond fop's most devout fans tried to correct the rest of the school as clearly the Auror's had needed Lockhart's expertise in some urgent mission. Thankfully, even Hannah had seen through the man's lies and hadn't been too upset at his departure.

BREAK

"She is embarrassed Harry, that's all." Neville explained as Hermione hovered a few tables away from their usual spot in the Library. The girl had avoided him ever since the revealing of his Parseltongue ability, she had evidently read and believed the books which described it as a Dark talent, a sign of malevolence in any who could speak it. Even after the victims were revived and had all stated he wasn't the one to attack them, she kept to avoiding him and would sit as far from him as she could in the few classes they shared.

"I don't mind Nev, if you want to sit with her, you can. I know she's been helping you with your Potions revision." Harry brushed his fingers across the page he was reading and hummed to himself before pushing the book away and opening another one from the stack beside him.

"No. I told her that I would be sitting with you and Terry, you're my friends too. She'll get over it eventually." Neville responded surprisingly firmly, though he still looked in the bushy haired girl's direction as he spoke. "Besides, even she admits you are better in Transfiguration than her, and I still can't get the bird to glass spell right."

Harry couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him as he remembered the previous attempt Neville had made to transform a parakeet into a goblet, the chest of the bird had rounded and become glassy, but the rest of its body remained distinctly feathery and worst of all, it did not appreciate the change. It had flown aggressively after Neville as the boy fled its angry assault, only stopping when Professor McGonagall reversed the spell.

"Alright but we're not practicing with an actual bird in here, Madam Pince will string us up by our ears." He grabbed a spare sheet of parchment from his bag and tapped it with his wand. "Mutatio Volucrum" The parchment folded and twisted as his magic forced it into a shape of his imagining. A small parchment bird sat poised on the desk between them, it was eerily lifelike even with it's stiff cream frame and the odd dark blot on one wing where some ink had spilled on it. "Okay, try it on this for me."

"But…that's not a bird Harry? I mean it looks great, don't get me wrong, but the spell is for turning a real animal into glass, not a paper one." Neville poked the little avian statuette with the tip of his wand and almost fell from his seat when the bird twitched ever so slightly.

"Calm down Nev, nowhere in the books does it say you can't use the spell on a parchment animal. It's the symbolism that's important. That is a bird, doesn't matter if it's got flesh and blood, metal, or wood inside, as long as you know that it is a bird. Now give it a try." Harry gestured to the desk and leaned back in his chair to wait for Neville to make his attempt.

"Veroverto." It wasn't a terrible attempt, Neville managed to turn the parchment body into almost clear glass, but when the spell reached the ink blot wing it failed, leaving a strange fusion of parchment and glass at the base of the wing.

"That wasn't bad at all mate, and now I think I have figured out the problem. You're struggling with the visualising, you manage fine when it's all one colour or texture but when there is a change, like the ink stain, you don't picture it changing as well so it doesn't. It's actually pretty similar to my obstacle with Transfiguration." Harry explained as he tapped the half-transfigured bird and unravelled the spell Neville had cast. It was a handy skill Castamir had taught him in the letters they had written since Christmas, there was no incantation, and it could only be done on magic that you understood deeply enough, but if you had the skill you could gently dispel the magic and revert Transfigurations or even undo Charms. His concentration was almost broken when Neville laughed suddenly, and he frowned at the boy as he returned his wand to his holster.

"I'm sorry Harry, but you just claimed to have trouble with Transfiguration after making a perfect paper bird and then you undid my failed spell without even using the reversal spell."

"I still have trouble with some of the spells Nev, I just practice them a lot as well. Besides, even if I practiced and studied every day I still wouldn't come close to your skills in Herbology. Now, take a minute to really visualise the change you want to make, and then try again."

It took two more attempts, but eventually Neville was able to transform the bird from parchment to flawless glass. Once he was able to do so a few times in a row, Harry challenged him with changing the shape in small ways until he was able to turn it into, an admittedly slightly wonky, glass goblet. It took the better part of an hour, but Harry was pleased with Neville's progress and the boy was clearly proud of his own achievement.

They agreed to meet regularly to work on Neville's Transfiguration, but Harry doubted it would take many sessions before the Gryffindor could overcome his difficulties.

BREAK

A kind of studious mania descended on the older students as the end of the year and the exams approached. As first years, Harry and Terry had been insulated from the worst of it but as second year students they were now well aware of the frenzied revision and practice that the fifth and seventh years disappeared into for the last few months of the school term. While Harry accepted that his own extra-curricular studies were considered by many as 'over the top', he was amazed to see several Ravenclaw students spending all night revising from dense books in the common room, often surrounded by glass phials that smelled suspiciously of the bitter Kola nuts used in the Wide-Eye Potion.

Harry was actually feeling quietly confident with the approaching exams, he and Terry had continued their nightly quizzing of different subjects and Oliver Rivers had rejoined them in the month leading up to the first exam. Rivers was the only other boy in the dorm who Harry was fairly sure had never suspected him of being the Heir, the quiet boy had always greeted him and been polite, even showing a silent support by sitting next to him at breakfast a few times. Harry wouldn't go so far as to call him a close friend, he knew very little about him really, but he was more than an acquaintance.

Thanks to their nightly ritual, Terry was also noticeably calmer than most of their classmates as they queued up outside the Transfiguration room for their practical exam. The theoretical paper had been interesting, the last few questions tested Harry's knowledge of the rules for inanimate-to-animate transformations and he had been guessing for the final question which was about Golemancy, the art of creating animated creatures from stone or metal that could follow basic commands. It wasn't a topic they had discussed or read about in class, but Harry had come across the subject when looking for spells to improve his animated knight, he and Terry had yet to come up with a name for the game they had created at the beginning of the year, but had both enjoyed playing it when they had the chance.

"Harry Potter." Professor McGonagall's voice echoed in the corridor and startled Harry from his musings.

"Good luck mate." Terry nudged Harry towards the door and gave him a thumbs up as he stepped into the Transfiguration classroom.

The desks had been pushed to the sides to make space for the objects that now took up the space in the middle of the room where Professor McGonagall waited with a roll of parchment in hand. A series of materials were stacked in increasingly large piles next to her, starting with a few matchsticks, then three wooden logs, a mound of loose dirt that came up to Harry's waist, and finally a pyramid of metal bars that was almost as tall as Harry. In front of these piles was a goose that had been frozen in place, likely by a stasis charm.

"Hello Mr Potter, when you are ready please turn this bird into a glass ornament of some kind." Professor McGonagall gestured to the goose. "Once you have done so, I will examine it and if you have done well enough, we will move onto the next stage."

After all the practice Harry had done with Neville, the spell needed was one he was very familiar with and, after deciding on the form he wanted to give the glass, he breathed out and gave a clockwise twist of his wand.

"Veraverto."

Harry was focused on the transformation, so he did not notice the brief spark, or the dim glow that the runes along his cane emitted as he cast the spell. Instead, he smiled as the goose twisted, feathers melted into clear glass and dripped down the goose's body, droplets of molten orange trickled across and up, ignoring gravity as they left trails of colour in their wake. In the time it took his heart to beat four times, the goose was gone and in its place was a tree of glass about as tall as Harry. The trunk and roots were transparent, the only sign of their existence was the warping of light as it passed through, the branches were a little more visible if only because of the leaves they held. Vibrant greens and deep autumnal browns and golds covered the top of the tree, the leaves weren't perfectly formed, there were a few that looked more lifelike, but most were curved angular blades with little texture. Harry knew it wasn't perfect, there was some warping in the trunk and one of the roots was too thin and looked likely to break any moment, but as the light from the magic settled and began to dissipate from the creation, he thought it might be his favourite working yet.

"Filius recommended I let you use your imagination, I was going to have you use these materials to enhance or change your creation until you couldn't keep going or the spells failed." Professor McGonagall whispered as she stepped around the tree and reached out to brush a gentle finger across one of the burnt red leaves. "I think any addition to this would be a true waste so I will change my plan slightly."

She gestured with her wand and a film of magic coated the glass sculpture, Harry didn't recognise the spell but the way the magic coated the glass he suspected it was some kind of protective spell, before she pointed at the far corner of the room and the tree floated gently across the space to hover there.

"Professor Dumbledore explained some of what happened down in the Chamber, so I understand you have some experience with elemental spells, yes?"

"Professor Flitwick gave me a book on them, I can't do all of them, but I can conjure some of the lesser ones." Harry explained as he wondered what the Transfiguration Master was getting at.

"I would hardly describe Coldfyre as a lesser spell, but you are correct it does not rank as one of the higher magics. However, the fact you were able to summon even a spark of the Stygian Flames is a miracle, I doubt there are any students here who could do so without doing serious damage to themselves in the process Mr Potter." Professor McGonagall eyed him seriously for a moment before she nodded to herself. "Very well, what is the most advanced elemental spell you can cast in this room without damaging anything?"

It was an interesting request and one Harry had to consider carefully. Conjuring Coldfyre was out of the question, it was not an easily controlled spell and he had witnessed the damage it could do first hand. He was confident that he could conjure a vacuum barrier again, he had done so for Professor Flitwick the previous year after all, but it seemed too much like cheating to use a spell he had already performed for an exam. There was one spell he had spent many weeks practicing before he could use it for anything of use, it was devilishly tricky and he couldn't use it on anything too heavy but it was the most technically difficult spell he could perform safely.

Inhale.

He focused on one of the wooden logs, narrowing all of his awareness and attention on it until it filled his mind.

Exhale.

"Vald Rike"

Visibly there was no change, but the sudden weight Harry could feel across his shoulders and spine as he held the magic was confirmation that the spell had indeed worked. Slowly and with a great deal of effort, Harry lifted his wand and the log lifted with it until it was a few feet in the air. While the effect could have been replicated with a levitation spell, what he was doing required far more skill and focus. Levitation spells wrapped the object in magic and moved them through the air, sometimes using the air to cushion the object. The spell Harry was using could achieve the same result, but he wasn't casting a spell on the object to move it, he was manipulating gravity around the object to move it. He wasn't levitating the object because to do so one had to overcome gravity's pull, he was changing the source of gravity acting upon the log so that it was being held in place by it's own weight. It was the same spell he had tried to use to stop the bludger in his first year, but he had only recently managed to successfully cast it. Theoretically, the object was near immovable so long as Harry maintained the spell, only he could manipulate the gravity acting upon the object to change it's position or orientation.

"An interesting choice, and well done on choosing an object you knew you could maintain the spell upon." McGonagall made a note with her quill on the roll of parchment as Harry returned the log to the pile and let out an audible sigh as he released the spell, the weight pressing down on his shoulders and back lessened immediately but the strain still left him with a few drops of sweat trickling down his neck.

"Was that good enough for an O, Professor?" Harry asked as he took a few deep breaths and leaned on his cane.

"I cannot tell you your grade Mr Potter, you know that would be against the rules." McGonagall frowned at him, but the small curling of her lips showed she wasn't serious. "However, I can tell you that I haven't seen as impressive a showing for a second-year student since your father, he had a gift with Transfiguration. He would be very proud of you Harry."

BREAK

"Professor McGonagall showed me a rather beautiful addition to her office today, Harry." Professor Flitwick remarked casually as Harry cast a cooling charm on a glass of water, small beads of condensation forming on the outside of the glass as the spell took effect. "She seemed very proud of her new glass tree, she has shrunk it and placed it on her desk."

Harry couldn't help the small smile that crept along his face, Professor McGonagall had asked if she could keep the tree, he had assumed it was so she could examine it for his grade but evidently she had liked it enough to keep it as a memento.

"Well done Harry, that is the last of the spells you need to demonstrate for the exam but I would like to keep our little tradition going so, if you feel up to it, please perform another spell to show how your personal studies have progressed." Flitwick smiled and leaned forward eagerly when Harry nodded and rolled up his sleeves, he had spent several days considering what spell to perform for the Charms Master and had settled on one from the French burglar's biography that he had read in his first year. The French wizard, Regis De la Rue, was an interesting character, something of a 'Robin Hood' figure for French muggleborn's before the French Revolution. The man had studied under Nicolas Flamel at Beauxbatons until the French Nobles who ran the school raised the tuition costs for all muggleborns, Regis was the son of a locksmith and used what he had learned from Flamel and his father to break into the Noble's manors and steal from them. He distributed the wealth among the poor and was one of the wizards who helped to break the wards on the Bastille before it was stormed. Sadly, he was blinded a few years later by a Goblin enchantment, the first of its kind used by a wizard to protect their gold, but he lived long enough to learn Braille from its inventor and record his life's story in the language.

"Ombre mutum"

As the magic took effect Professor Flitwick looked confused as no obvious sign of the magic appeared, no sparks or light left his wand. Only when Harry gestured to his feet did the Charms Master realise what the spell had done as he chuckled. Harry took a few silent steps to his around the room to prove the effects and then stepped into the shadows cast by the curtains hanging loosely by the window to show the last part of the remarkable spell.

Regis had created the spell by combining elements from several other charms to create what he called the Thief's Mantle, the spell did not camouflage like the Disillusionment Charm, but it was the next best thing. The subject of the charm cast no shadow when exposed to light, their footsteps were silenced by the condensed and hidden shadows that were bound to the soles of their shoes by the spell, but even more impressive was what the charm could do when the subject stepped into an area of dim light or darkness. The shadows that were bound around the subject's feet to muffle footsteps would silently extend and enshroud the subject's body until they blended almost completely with the shadows they were hidden in. It wasn't infallible of course, a strong light would pierce the shadows and reveal the one hiding within them but to the casual observer the figure would be all but invisible.

"Oh that is brilliant my boy! Truly marvellous!" Flitwick clapped as Harry stepped out from the shade and the shadows slipped from his form, returning to their natural state by his feet. "To bind and manipulate shadow in such a way is ingenious, and for you to be able to do so demonstrates a level of understanding that is very impressive for one so young, Harry. You must be careful though. Conceptual elements such as shadow and silence are very difficult to manipulate. They can be dangerous. I am very impressed Harry and I do not say this to deter you, only to advise you to exercise caution when practicing spells like this."

"I will Professor, I doubt I could perform any other spells like this one anyway." That wasn't strictly true, Harry had already read another spell written by the French thief that manipulated shadows in a much smaller way, it was a spell he was fairly sure he could cast but not one he thought would be useful to him.

"Good lad, well unless there is anything else I should let you get back to your studying, you have your Herbology exam soon, do you not?"

"I do but I did have a question, its not related to Charms but I thought you might still know the answer. I heard someone mention a woman, Mary McDonald? Do you know who she was? What happened to her?" At the mention of the witch's name, the Charms Master's usually jovial expression fell and a solemn frown replaced it as he sank back in his chair.

"Mary McDonald." Flitwick closed his eyes and drew in a slightly ragged breath. "Mary was a friend of your mother's, perhaps her closest, they were inseparable, or at least they were during their sixth and seventh years when I joined as Charms Professor. Mary went on to be a Healer at St Mungo's, I think she even helped to deliver you." Flitwick sighed deeply as he paused, searching for the words to explain. "You must understand Harry, these were very dark times. There were daily attacks by You-Know-Who and his followers, and even after he disappeared after facing your and your parents, his followers did not surrender quietly. The attacks continued, less successfully, until late November when the last of his devoted followers were captured. On the ninth of November, Mary McDonald was abducted during an attack on St Mungo's."

"So, she's missing? She might still be alive?" Even as Harry asked, he knew that his hope was in vain.

"No, Harry." Flitwick shook his head sadly. "Her body was found in Diagon Alley on the thirteenth of December. She was … she did not die peacefully, Harry. She should be known for the number of innocents she healed, the lives she saved. Instead, she is known as the last death of the Blood War. I am sorry my boy. Truly." Harry didn't know how to react as the Charms Professor wiped at a few tears that had crawled down his face during his recounting. He knew that Lucius Malfoy was a cruel man but clearly he was a dangerous one as well. A cruel and dangerous wizard who Harry had made an enemy of.

BREAK

"Go on Harry! Destroy him!" Neville cheered as Harry directed his animated knight to swing his stone sword at Terry's creation. The clumsy and misshapen figures they had made in September had been greatly improved upon, no longer made of mud and grass but tightly packed earth and stone. Terry's knight, Lancelot, stood at a little over ten inches, covered in heavy stone plates and wielded a seven-inch sword Terry had painstakingly transfigured from a handful of pebbles a few days prior. Harry had named his knight Gwaine, he stood of a height with Lancelot but was more slender than his hulking opponent, thin stone pauldrons covered in moss and a buckler of tightly woven grass were his only protection and the sword he wielded was smaller and lighter than Lancelot's enormous weapon.

"Take that!" Terry shouted as he twisted his wand and pushed Lancelot to swing wildly with his enormous blade, intending to end their final match with a single blow. As the blade struck Gwaine's grassy shield, the copper Skold rune Harry had spent several hours weaving between the blades of grass flashed and the sword bounced away, along with Lancelot whose 'hand' was fused to the handle of the weapon. Unfortunately, as Neville cackled and Lancelot clambered to his feet, the grass shield began to smoulder as the heat generated by the rune burned the dry grass.

"Ah bugger, I should have thought of that really." Harry cursed as he rocked back and had Gwaine drop the now smoking shield. He had written to Castamir for advice on the shield idea, the enchanter had been very helpful and even sent across some schema for similar items used by mage-knight's back in the middle-ages. The Skold rune wasn't one used by the knights, mostly due to it being an obscure Elder Futhark rune that had only one meaning as opposed to the more versatile Younger Futhark runes preferred by most enchanters. In hindsight, grass was perhaps not the best material to house a rune, especially dry grass on a hot day.

"Damn, I didn't think you'd get that to work before our match." Terry grumbled as his animated warrior staggered towards Gwaine with his blade held high, ready to cleave the stone knight in twain. As Lancelot swung down Harry twitched his wand and Gwaine rolled, somewhat clumsily, out of the way of the blow. The heavy stone sword sunk into the soft dirt and as Lancelot struggled to free the weapon, Gwaine stabbed up from his kneeling position and the magically sharpened sword-tip pierced the stone chest of Lancelot with a shrill grating sound.

"Victory to Harry I think Terry." Susan patted Harry on the shoulder as she examined the animated warriors.

"Yeah yeah alright, but I'll get you next time mate." Terry pointed at Harry with a grin as they separated the animated knights, the magic slipping from their stone forms and returning them to their unmoving states.

"In your dreams Terry, poor Lancelot would need the real Excalibur to stand a chance against Harry's Green Knight." Neville joked as he passed Harry a cup and poured some juice from a jug they had brought out with them. It was a little warm after sitting out in the sun, but still tasted sweet to Harry.

"I still say you should give it a go Nev, although I'd hate to face whatever Flora monstrosity you would create." Harry interjected.

"Oh I don't know, my Transfiguration still isn't-" Neville mumbled before Susan interrupted him with a scoff.

"Rubbish, I've seen you practicing with Harry. You turned paper into a glass statue Nev, I don't know anyone else in our year who could do that." She argued as she dropped gracefully to sit beside Harry, her hand sneaking past Harry's own to steal his cup and take a sip with a grin.

"Oi I was drinking that." Harry pointed out, though his voice lacked any real heat as he reached out and took the cup back from the still grinning Hufflepuff.

"You wouldn't let me go thirsty in this dreadful summer heat, would you Harry?" She pouted at him and he sighed, handing the cup back without another word. "Good boy."

"That's not strictly true you know." Neville said as Susan took another sip from the drink. "Not that Harry is a good boy, although I would argue that one as well. Just what you said about the paper into glass, I'm definitely not the only one in our year who could do it. I think Hermione could probably manage it, maybe Padma as well. But you're forgetting the champion of the stone soldiers over there." Neville pointed at Harry with a warm smile.

"Well yeah but we all know Harry doesn't really count as one of us anyway." Terry answered with a wave of his hand in Harry's direction as he eyed the loose bag of berries Neville had pulled from his belt.

"Wait what do you mean I don't count as one of you?" Harry asked as Terry swiped a handful of the berries and stuffed them into his mouth.

"What Terry means, is that we can't really compare other second years to you Harry." Susan explained as she shot a look of disgust in Terry's direction, the boy having smeared berry juice around his mouth in his hurry. "You cast spells last year that we aren't meant to learn until the end of next year. You killed a-" Susan stopped and looked around to check for anyone listening before she continued in a quieter tone. "You killed a Basilisk and saved that poor Weasley girl. Harry face it, you aren't exactly an ordinary second year student."

"I just study a lot, I read ahead that's all it is." Harry argued as he pointed his wand at the rapidly dwindling bag of berries, levitating a handful across to hover in front of him, safe from Terry's eager hands.

"You just did that without speaking the incantation." Neville coughed into his hand as Terry shook his head mirthfully. Harry gaped at them as Susan plucked one of the berries from the floating bunch and rather impressively threw into Harry's open mouth.

"Really it's just that I study more and I practice more." Harry denied after he swallowed the berry. Even as he did, he doubted his words though. While it was true that he did practice and study more than his friends, he also knew that his sight gave him an advantage when it came to learning and wielding magic. He couldn't help but wonder; was his success just down to the fluke of magic that granted him Fulgomancy, or was it down to his own ability?

"Harry, what was that spell you were telling me about in the Library yesterday? The dragon transfiguration spell?" Neville asked as Terry polished off the last of the berries and slumped back with a satisfied sigh. The question jolted Harry from his introspection, and he returned his attention to his friends and the picnic they were having.

Harry smirked as he recalled the spell and tore up a handful of grass, then another until he had a fist sized clump of material. He threw it into the air and focused his will upon the gently falling bundle of foliage.

"Draconifors."

The blades of grass twisted as they fell, winding and weaving together until they formed the shape of a four-legged dragon. Fragile chlorophyll wings spread to catch the air and slow its fall as it let out a silent but defiant roar. It wasn't perfect, without a Dragon's innate magic the wings weren't enough to keep it off the ground so Harry did his best to guide more magic into its form, imitating the levitation charm's pattern to give it extra buoyancy. It seemed to work as the green dragon climbed higher and higher into the air, much to Susan and Neville's delight as they clapped for the miniature dragon.

Harry had a brief warning as a familiar presence flickered across his mind before a dark streak tore through the air where the grass dragon had been hovering. Kyrre landed beside Harry, looking proud as she reached up with one clawed foot and tore the lower half of the dragon from her beak, the transfiguration failed as she did and the grass fell apart leaving the Norse Raven with a beak full of twisted grass.

"See? I told you that bird is a bloody menace." Terry said as he inched away from Kyrre, Neville looked oddly upset at the sight of the now shredded grass but Susan just laughed at Terry's fearful reaction and reached out to pet Kyrre, gently rubbing her fingers across the top of her head. Susan had heard about Terry's early encounter with the Hrafn and had declared that Kyrre must have good instincts, the two had grown close ever since and Kyrre sought her out almost as often as she did Harry.

"I just don't think she liked Harry having another winged friend. Did you Kyrre?" Kyrre nodded her head and a feeling of triumph and jealousy washed across Harry's mind confirming the redhead's theory.

"Kyrre knows she is the only girl for me." He said with a smile as the Hrafn hopped across and rubbed her head against his hand, a gentle chirp of agreement escaping her beak as she did so.

"Careful mate, I reckon a few of the girls in Gryffindor would be mighty disappointed to hear you say that." Neville laughed as Harry's cheeks burned and he ducked his head to focus on Kyrre. If he hadn't turned his attention so totally on his companion, he might have noticed Susan's angry look at the Gryffindor.

"What are your plans for the Summer anyway? I was hoping we could meet up again like we did last year, maybe without the missing letters this time." Harry grabbed onto the conversational lifeline Susan had thrown him eagerly and heartily agreed with her suggestion. He had already arranged to meet with Castamir during the summer break, the enchanter had agreed to continue with some informal lessons in exchange for Harry helping him sort through some of his less dangerous stock. He was greatly looking forward to spending more of his summer in the magical world, and without Dobby's well-intended interference he could maintain communication with his friends as well.

BREAK

The train journey to London had been mostly uneventful, a few students had poked their heads in to bid one or more of them farewell, the Weasley Twins' goodbye was accompanied by a small bag of wizarding pranks as they claimed their mother would search them upon seeing them and they didn't want to waste them. Luna had stopped by with Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor who had befriended the unusual girl after being assigned to help her catch up on the lessons she missed. She warned Harry to watch out for shadowy figures and heralds of Arawn before giving him a hug and wandering off to look for Nargles with Colin following behind. Malfoy and his henchmen had attempted to open the door to their compartment soon after, no doubt to insult Harry and his friends, but the locking charm on the door defeated them and they left after Crabbe tried and failed to break the door down with his shoulder.

All too soon the train pulled into Kings Cross and they disembarked, Hannah was immediately whisked away by her parents who seemed keen to get her home and safe. Susan was the next to spot her guardian, her aunt was easily recognisable and greeted them all amiably but was also quick to leave with her charge. Susan gave a final hug to Harry and promised to write to him soon before she disappeared with a crack.

"Neville!" Augusta Longbottom appeared from the crowd with her signature stuffed vulture hat and grabbed Neville's shoulder tightly. "Say your goodbye's quickly, Thaddeus Nott has called a Wizengamot meeting for this evening and I'll not miss whatever mischief he is trying to slip through."

"See ya Nev, we'll work out a time to meet up in the Alley soon." Harry gave the Gryffindor a one-armed hug and Terry did the same before the Longbottom matriarch marched him across to the enchanted fireplaces that lined the far wall of the platform.

As soon as Harry and Terry stepped through the barrier they were engulfed in hugs as Petunia and Rachel seized them. It was a tearful but happy reunion and Petunia didn't let go of Harry's shoulder throughout the walk to the car park.

"Don't worry boys, we've already arranged a few dates we can meetup over the summer. You'll see each other again soon enough." Rachel chuckled as Harry gave Terry a hug and the two pairs separated, each heading for their own cars and then home for the summer.

BREAK

The blood spattered across the floor of the dimly light stone floor painted a gruesome picture. Some patches were darker and older, staining the stone a ruddy brown, but the fresher marks were still a deep crimson that reflected the flickering sconces set on either side of the closed door. Dirty straw piled in a corner of the room in a poor imitation of a bed while a filthy metal grate built into the floor in the opposite corner served as a toilet to the room's resident. Said resident leant against the wall of his cell, matted hair and a long twisted beard covered most of his face but that which wasn't hidden was gaunt and pale. The sun didn't shine over the island of Azkaban. The stories said that after witnessing the evil that Ekrizdis unleashed on the island, the Sun couldn't bear to look upon the dark isle again. Whatever the truth, thick and stormy clouds had covered the island for at least four hundred years and showed no signs of letting up.

"-ban is the most secure magical prison in the world, I doubt even Nurmengard is as formidable as our prison Minister." It was rare that voices would echo along the corridors of Azkaban, and rarer still that they would reach the top floor of the dreaded prison. The sound didn't penetrate the bearded man's addled mind at first. Years of being exposed to the Dementor's care had forced his consciousness deep into his mind, hiding from the cloaked demons in his memories where they couldn't reach him.

"Indeed Lucius, but much of the thanks go to you and your donations, and your suggestion to allocate more of the DMLE budget to the prison. With your help, we have made Britain safer than ever." A flicker of something shot through the prisoners mind. The memory he was living in shifted and changed at the voice and name. No longer a happy memory from his time at school, now he was in a duel in Diagon Alley against a masked figure.

"Ahem. Apologies Minister but you should be careful up here, some of the prisoners can be aggressive. Please stay away from the bars."

Colourful parasols burned outside of Fortescue's parlour as he ducked under a curse, countering with a searing red spell that burned a line across his opponent's robes.

"Oh yes of course, thank you Runcorn. Oh I say, he doesn't look to have moved since I was last here. Are you sure he isn't dead?"

A bear with stone arms and metal claws tore free from the ground and intercepted a green curse that would have hit one of the red robed Aurors in the back. "Nice one James!" He shouted above the din as he weaved between curses and ducked behind the now broken transfiguration's body.

"No worse than he deserves after what he did, Minister."

The air twisted as a cloaked figure appeared in the midst of the battle, long blonde hair barely visible within the hood as they quickly felled two Auror's, cursing both in the back as they duelled with more cloaked figures across the street.

"I think I need to rest a moment Minister, my leg disagrees with all these stairs. I will join you on the way down."

A curse struck James in the leg, a strangled shout escaped his lips at the pain as the leg twisted and snapped. Sirius moved out of cover, leaping between spells without a care until he stood between his brother and the attacker. As the cloaked figure stepped closer, the light of the burning street revealed his face, a twisted smirk on his lips as he greeted James' defender. "Sir-

-rius Black. Finally succumbed to the madness? I wonder if it is your family's blood or the Dementor's that did it. Can you even understand me?" The blond wizard peered through the bars on the door at the broken man huddled against the wall.

Sirius recognised this wizard. A Slytherin, he graduated two years before Sirius did. Married Narcissa, Sirius' cousin, shortly after. He grit his teeth as he raised his wand and gave a mocking bow in the blond's direction. "Hello Luc-

-cius Malfoy." He spat out as his mind twisted and he returned to the present, though he desperately wished to leave it and hide away in his memories again.

"Oh so you are still there? At least partially. Marvellous. I met your godson recently you know? You would be proud of the little bastard. He has inherited his parent's talent for interfering where he shouldn't." Malfoy sneered at Black as he slowly turned to look back at him. "Not to worry though Black, I'll be teaching him his place soon enough. I think I'll call on Macnair to help, or maybe Yaxley. You remember how good they are at that, don't you?"

Black crossed the cell in a heartbeat. The bars on the door sizzled as his hands clenched around them, the smell of burning flesh wafting from them but he ignored it as he roared in anger at Malfoy who didn't flinch at his reaction.

"Oh but how could I be so careless, you don't even know what he looks like anymore do you? I can help with that." Malfoy leaned in close and whispered through the bars with a grin. "After I have flayed every inch of skin from his body, I will send it to you. You can put it together in your cell. Perhaps it will help stave of that madness a little longer."

Hours later, Sirius Black sat staring intently at the wall of his cell, two foot of carved stone that separated him from the outside world. A world he had all but forgotten about for the better part of a decade. The wall, much like the rest of his cell, was covered in dried blood and other foul material but, barely visibly beneath the filth, tiny imperfections in the stone work could be seen. The work of his younger self when he had first been imprisoned and the hellish tower hadn't purged hope from his soul. Well his hope was still gone, but a righteous fury burned in its place. The last Black brought his hand up to his mouth and bit down on the emaciated flesh with stained teeth, warm blood sprayed into his mouth and he flashed a feral crimson grin in the dark of the cell.

END

Chapter Text

Authors Notes

Greetings all! I have another chapter for you, this time I'm introducing some more POV's and we get a little insight into some of the other characters. Once again I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, followed and favourited. I cannot believe there are over 700 of you following this story and it really means a lot.

As always please leave a review if you liked something and if you didn't, then tell me what was wrong so I can work on it. I love reading your thoughts on the story, it really makes it worth it.

Reviews

Griffin Blackwood - I'm glad you're still enjoying it! Yes Oliver and the other Ravenclaw's in Harry's year will start to crop up more as the story progresses, not necessarily in good or bad ways, but its inevitable that personalities will clash. I have read a few good stories with Gemma in as well, I may even drop her in as a reference ... we will see!

SilverBladeStar - Harry is a nervous 12 year old boy who was hearing voices about killing, while logically it makes sense he should share that immediately, he is not running on logic at this point. He does share the information later on but he doesn't want to be blamed or seen as evil and at 12 years old, I think I would have hidden something like this as well. As for following canon, it's true I have so far kept fairly close to the original story however the story will begin to split from canon much more now that we are in the middle years.

littleemberlou - I'm glad you are enjoying it! I love it when readers review and let me know what they are liking so it's really a joy to read your comments, thank you! 'Flirt-wick' is a great one! I will have to remember that! I hope Year 3 doesn't disappoint!

Chapter 22

The sound of the bell above the door at the front of the store pulled Harry from his focus on the crystal orb he was examining, it was part of a set Castamir had bought, and he had tasked Harry with identifying the magic each item was enchanted with. The previous items had all been Divination items of some kind, but all with hexes or curses attached; a Tarot deck that foretold the readers death at the hands of their closest friends, knuckle bones that caused tremors in the user's own hands until they couldn't grip anything and now a crystal orb that seemed to affect the user's mind. Harry thought it likely induced nightmares or something along those lines, the runes for sleep and illusions were faint but repetitive.

"Oi! Castamir, get your arse out here before I start looking for illegal items." The bellow was easily recognisable as Alastor Moody's and Harry placed the crystal ball back in its case before he walked around and through the doorway that led to the front of the building. As he rounded the corner and leant against the counter, Alastor turned and pointed but deflated when he saw that it was Harry.

"Hello Alastor, how are you?" He greeted with a grin as the surly Auror grunted and stepped up to the counter to join him.

"Potter, I forgot you were working for Leventis. Where is he?" The Auror's magical eye whirled and pointed upstairs and then to the front door. If Harry didn't know him, he might think the grizzled Auror was nervous.

"He popped to Gringotts, he left a while ago so he should be back soon. Is it anything I can help with? Castamir has been letting me identify some of the artefacts people sell to him, I'm getting pretty good." Harry flicked his wand at a small silver bell in a glass case on the counter and it slid along the worn wood until it stopped between them. "Like this one, Mrs River brought it in, it's enchanted to send anyone who hears it into a deep sleep. I think it was made by her grandfather, I'm not sure, but originally it was just to help you sleep except someone got hold of it and twisted the magic. It's pretty potent now, Mrs River said it sent her and her neighbours to sleep when it fell off the mantlepiece."

"That's very good lad, you've picked this up quick. A little birdie even told me you managed to surprise McGonagall." Moody praised as his eye whipped back to the front of the shop and he raised his voice. "Maybe you can replace that useless sod Leventis soon, eh?"

"Now that's hurtful Alastor. I've still got a few tricks I need to teach the boy before he's ready for that." The bell above the door didn't ring as Castamir opened it and walked in, but that didn't surprise Harry. The whole building was enchanted by Castamir, he doubted the floorboards creaked without his knowledge.

"Hmph. I need a word, in private." Alastor didn't look at Harry, but he clearly meant without him there.

"Alright. Harry can you keep watch out front? Alastor and I will just be in the workshop." Castamir led the Auror through the doorway and as they stepped through, a web of runes lit up across the threshold of the room. Harry couldn't hear what they were saying. He couldn't even see what was going on in the room as the ward blocked almost all magic from crossing it. So he settled in and leaned against the counter, his curiosity was strong but he respected Castamir too much to snoop. Besides which, he doubted he could put a dent in the man's wards, and he definitely couldn't without the artificer noticing let alone Moody's enchanted eye.

"Alright what's going on then Alastor?" Castamir demanded as the Auror stomped across to lean against the wall opposite the door.

"I need you to do me a favour Leventis. You aren't going to like it." Moody's enchanted eye spun in its socket, not stopping in any direction for long before it whirled around to check somewhere else.

"I very rarely like the favours you ask of me Alastor, how bad could this one be?"

"I need you to come with me to Azkaban. Tonight." It was a testament to how well Castamir knew Alastor Moody that he didn't immediately draw his wand to flee an arrest attempt of some kind.

"You would have brought more Aurors with you if this was some misguided arrest attempt, so what do you need my help with Alastor?"

"I need you to examine a cell. This isn't an official visit, me and Savage have been given a twenty-four hour lead before the Prophet reports it." Moody sighed and rubbed a scarred hand across his face. "There's been an escape. It's Black."

"Hell's bells man." Castamir sagged as he sat down on a stool, the colour draining from his face as he absorbed the news. "How? And why now? Why wait nearly thirteen years to escape?"

"All good questions. That's why I want you to come with me to inspect his cell. He's been out for at least twelve hours, the Dementors didn't notice anything, and the warden's portkeys are all accounted for. Fudge wants it handled quietly if possible, so we've got some leeway. Dumbledore is at the ICW conference and won't be back for a week, after him you're the best expert at Dark Magic I know." Moody leaned across the workbench and shot a look with his good eye towards the door. "There's something else. The guards reported that he was muttering things in his sleep the past few weeks. Said he kept repeating the same thing over and over. He's at Hogwarts."

"You think he's after Harry?" Castamir straightened and shook his head as the Auror shrugged. "Well blast waiting until tonight then. Evoco Veloxum."

A shimmering grey eagle made of lines of dull light sprang from the tip of Castamir's wand and hovered in the air in front of him, wings flapping silently as it's white eyes studied him intently.

"Filius come collect Harry from the shop and escort him home. I will meet you at Moody's tonight." The eagle nodded as Castamir finished reciting the message and then flew up, disappearing through the ceiling as it journeyed to its target faster than any owl could fly.

"You want to leave him here alone? With Black on the loose?" Moody asked as Castamir searched one of the workbench draws, pocketing a pouch of glittering dust and a handful of clear glass beads before he turned to the doorway and frowned.

"He'll be safe here. Black won't be able to get through the building's protections." Castamir paused for a moment as he tilted his head. "Well he won't get through before Filius gets here anyway, and not without making quite a spectacle."

Castamir walked through the wards that hung across the doorway without hesitation and they dissipated moments after as he grabbed a long overcoat from behind the front counter and patted Harry on the shoulder as the boy turned a page in his book.

"Harry, me and Alastor need to head out for a quick errand. I'll be shutting the shop early and Filius should be along shortly to collect you. Oh and I doubt I'll be opening for the rest of the week so spend it revising your Runic patterns and I'll have a little challenge for you next week." Castamir smiled at the young boy who he had grown so fond of over the previous few years.

"Okay Castamir, I'll just wait here for Professor Flitwick then. See you later Alastor!" Harry shouted as the Auror opened the front door and waved back at the boy.

"Be good Harry, and don't open the door for anyone but Filius." Castamir instructed as he ran his thumb across a symbol roughly carved into the doorframe, activating the more dangerous enchantments that protected the building.

"Right, we only have an hour before we have to report our findings to Amelia so do whatever you need to do and do it quickly." Alastor grunted as he inserted a heavy iron key into a seemingly innocuous stone block next to the cell. The key sunk into the stone without resistance and a quick turn caused the cell door to melt into a puddle of viscous grey metal on the ground, leaving the cell open to be examined.

"I'll stay by the stairs in case any more of those bloody demons tries to interfere." Auror Savage spat to the side and turned to face the dimly lit stairs that spiralled up the centre of the ancient prison tower, his wand gripped tightly in his hand.

Castamir stepped up to the doorway of the cell but didn't step inside. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small leather pouch filled with glittering powder, he tipped a small amount into his palm and tossed it into the cell. The powder was actually made of two different materials; tiny metal shavings and ground salt crystals mixed together.

"The Unspeakables have already tried iron and salt, there were no traces." Moody muttered from the other side of the cell as he peered into the gloomy cell with his good eye.

"The Unspeakables tried cheap shavings and table salt. I am using cold iron and Egyptian embalming salt; they are very different things Alastor." Castamir corrected with his usual air of casual arrogance as the powder hung in the air. There was no breeze or breath to move the lingering power, and yet it did move. A portion of darker material moved to the corner of the room and settled into the outline of a hunched figure while a lighter part of the powder drifted to the far wall and stuck to the old stone in a spiralling shape.

Castamir seemed surprised by the symbol on the wall but not the outline that lingered in the corner, he tucked the pouch back into his pocket and withdrew the handful of clear crystal beads he had also brought with him. He didn't throw these into the room but held them clenched in his hand as he stepped through the doorway. The already frigid cold that permeated the island intensified as he stepped into the cell, every breath formed icy crystals in his mouth as he stepped deeper into the room.

"Auror Savage, I should warn you the Dementors will not like what I am going to do next. You may have to dissuade them from joining us up here." Castamir called back into the hallway as he opened his hand and let the crystal beads fall to the floor. There was no response beyond a muffled curse from the Auror as the beads collided with the floor with an unnaturally heavy thud. The once transparent and clean beads were no speckled with crimson as blood dripped from Castamir's open hand. The now scarlet beads rolled slowly across the stone slabs leaving faint stains behind them until they all came to a stop by the far wall, their winding path leaving a bloody trail that formed a distorted symbol.

"Fucking hell - Expecto Patronum! Tell your mate to hurry up Alastor, the guards are pissed." Savage shouted from the stairway as a shining wolf dashed towards the approaching shadows, the white light struggling to repel the encroaching darkness the Dementors carried with them.

"Right Leventis, we need to move. Get out of there." Alastor ordered as he drew his wand and stepped up to the doorway.

"If you want to leave, why don't we use the back door?" Castamir asked as he kept his eyes on the symbol the salt had formed on the wall, stepping closer to it and running a hand across it with a dark grin.

"Back door? What are you on about man?"

"Black made a door. Watch." Castamir pressed his still bleeding palm into the centre of the wall and grunted in pain as the flow of blood quickened, rivulets flowing in a spiral out from the centre until they reached the edges of the wall and stopped. Castamir stumbled back with a curse, his hand hanging by his side, as the wall crumbled. Enchanted stone that had stood for half a millennium crumbled and collapsed like wet sand until a gaping hole had formed in the wall, harsh winds ripped through the opening and into the cell as the elements were allowed entry into the tower once again.

"Merlin's beard." Alastor mumbled as he conjured a barrier to stop the howling gale that was trying to tear away more of the cell wall.

"That's how Black got out. He's a lunatic. He must have spent years preparing for that. Pouring his blood, his soul into that wall until he could overpower the tower's magic." The tower shuddered. Dust fell from the ceiling as the stone monolith groaned like a wounded beast before the broken wall reformed, stone blocks unbroke, mortar resealed as the ancient magic ripped control back and sealed the wound. "Years of pain, of blood and tears all for a minute's control of six feet of stone."

"Shit. Can we do anything to stop other prisoners trying the same thing?" Alastor asked as Savage backstepped closer to the cell with his wand still pointed at the now silent stairwell.

"Whatever the fuck that was, it seems to have distracted the Dementors. Which reminds me. What the fuck was that?" Savage coughed into his elbow as he eyed the dishevelled and bleeding enchanter still stood in the cell.

"It's not something you can stop, not unless you want to restrain the prisoners from moving while they're here. But it's also not something you should worry about anyone else doing." Castamir stepped out of the cell and into the hallway, sagging to lean against the wall once he was free of the still freezing cell. He knew why the cell was so much colder than the rest of the prison now; the tower was angry that Black had wrested control of the tiny patch of stone from it's enchantments, the cold was a physical manifestation of Azkaban's injury. "What Black did shouldn't be possible. He imbued that stone with so much of himself that he was able to overcome Azkaban's own enchantments. There was an old monk that did something similar with a tree in Germany a few centuries ago, he managed to force enough of himself into the tree that he was able to make it move. No magic, no wand, no spell needed. He spent so long sharing himself with the tree, putting himself into it, that it was like moving his own body. And then he died."

"What?" Savage asked as he cast another glance towards the stairs.

"The monk had sacrificed so much of himself. His lifeforce, his soul, whatever you want to call it. He imparted so much of it into the tree that he died when he was finished. Not of anything special, no disease or curse. He just … ran out of himself, reached the end. And that was with an ordinary tree, no magical protections on it. Black did the same thing with enchanted stone, he used some runes to make it a bit more sophisticated than just meditating next to it, but he still had to sacrifice a lot of himself to do it. If he survived the climb down and the swim back to Britain … well he won't live to be an old man and he'll know it." Castamir stared at the fixed wall as he explained.

"Wait, what about you? You just did the same thing, did you give up some life or whatever as well?" Alastor asked gruffly as he reached down to help the enchanter to his feet.

"Do I look like an idiot? No, I used a bit of blood to activate the runes Black carved. I just piggybacked his sacrifice; I'll be tired for a day, but I'll be fine. Give it a few weeks and you can reuse that cell, but for now its best if it stays empty." Castamir brushed some of the dust from his jacket and followed Savage as he led the way down the tower steps.

"What about Black? You said this monk died, how long do you think Black has? With any luck maybe he'll keel over before he gets to civilisation." Savage chuckled darkly at Moody's grim query.

"It's not an exact science Alastor. Black is powerful and that runic circle was clever. He might have given up a few years or a few decades, it's impossible to know for sure. He certainly won't be going anywhere quickly for a few weeks though."

"We'll try to pick his trail up on the coast then. With any luck we can give Amelia some good news when we report to her." Savage nodded at the suggestion and surprisingly, so did Castamir.

"I'll join you. If Black can perform esoteric magic like that, well you might need an expert to track him."

"Come on then, lets get off this damned island."

"So Flitwick reckons Black's after you then?" Terry summarised bluntly as Harry leaned back in his chair outside of Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, he had spent the past ten minutes explaining everything he knew about the escaped dark wizard, which wasn't all that much.

"Auntie has avoided talking about it around me, but I know it's caused a big ruckus at the Ministry. Nobody has ever escaped from Azkaban before and Black was at the very top of the tower. I mean look around, have you ever seen the Alley like this before?" Susan gestured at the normally bustling Alley. While the shops were almost all still open, there were drastically fewer customers and most would hurry from their destinations, throwing fearful glances around as they rushed to the Leaky Cauldron or just apparating away as soon as they reached the top of the Alley.

"Ha-have you all had your permission slips signed?" Neville asked in a weak attempt to steer the conversation onto brighter topics, but Harry smiled gratefully in the boy's direction and nodded.

"Yeah, my aunt signed it yesterday after I promised to send her some Honeyduke's chocolate, apparently my mum used to send it to her for Christmas and her birthday."

"Oh I love Honeyduke's! Auntie Amelia used to bring me some of their Ice Mice and Fudge Sludge whenever she visited Hogsmeade, oh I can't wait to see it myself." Susan eyed Harry's Fudge Sundae as she expounded on the virtues of Honeyduke's Fudge Sludge, which did sound good despite the name, and Harry grinned as he sighed in mock annoyance before he pushed the remainder of the Sundae across the table to her. Her own Banana and Chocolate frozen delight was long gone and Harry honestly couldn't finish his large portion anyway, Florean was always overly generous with his servings despite his, admittedly weak, protests. "Oh if you insist Harry."

"Oi what about me?" Terry grumbled as Susan began demolishing the remaining ice cream with single-minded focus.

"I'll buy you a chocolate frog on the train mate, besides we still need to go and pick up our books. You still want to come with Nev or are you meeting Hannah with Susan?" Harry asked as he stood and pushed in his chair.

"Oh no I need to buy my books too so I'll come with you, besides that Auror scares me." Neville shot a furtive look at the man who had escorted Susan during their visit to the Alley. He had introduced himself as Auror Savage and certainly lived up to the name with his unkempt beard, wrinkled shirt and fierce gaze. Harry trusted him though, Alastor had mentioned him a few times and seemed to hold him in high esteem and the fact he hadn't made a fuss about meeting Harry was always a good sign.

"Alright well we will see you next week then I guess Susie?" Harry wasn't surprised when the redhead leapt from her seat and grabbed him in a tight hug, but he was shocked when she pressed her warm lips to his cheek in a brief kiss.

"Thanks for the ice cream, bye boys!" Susan chirped as she walked away with her Auror guard trailing a step behind, though Harry did absently notice the smirk on the man's face as he stood stunned.

"Come on Romeo, we still need to get our books." Terry grabbed Harry by the shoulder and turned him in the direction of Obscurus Books, after visiting with Harry previously Terry had decided to buy his schoolbooks from the less crowded book shop, mainly as they sold second-hand books at a fraction of the price that Flourish & Blotts did which left Terry a tidy profit from the allowance his father had given him for the visit.

If the main thoroughfare of the Alley was sparsely populated, then Obscurus Books and the surrounding shops were positively deserted. Perhaps due to its close proximity to the entrance to Knockturn Alley, which Harry had heard some horror stories about, or because it was quite far from the sense of security that Gringotts exuded. They passed at least four Aurors on their walk down the Alley but as they neared the entrance to Knockturn Alley the street seemed to be empty, though Harry suspected there were Aurors hidden nearby. Either way, Harry, Neville and Terry were the only customers as they perused the teetering stacks of books and the densely packed shelves.

"So all three of us need the Monster Book of Monsters, right?" Terry asked as he leaned over the makeshift pen that held a dozen of the slumbering tomes. Harry had seen them the last time he had visited and had given the enclosure a wide berth after the owner threw a chunk of meat in, the frenzy that followed had been an experience he would never forget.

"No just two, Hagrid sent me a copy for my birthday. Nearly gave Aunt Petunia a heart attack when she tried to give it a read." Harry had spent several minutes pondering the tome after he had pinned it down under his cane, but in the end the key had been hidden in Hagrid's birthday card. A quick stroke of the spine and the book had fallen open, the enchantment was a clever, if risky, way to try and promote the Scamander school of thought about magical creatures; even the dangerous ones can be befriended if you treat them with kindness. "Wingardium Leviosa."

Harry levitated two of the snoring books up and out of the enclosure and set them down in a nervous Neville's surprisingly steady arms.

"Somnus. There that should keep them asleep until you get home, and you can just stroke the spine to calm them down." Harry had been half-tempted to leave out that last bit of advice but he didn't think Neville's gran would see the humour in a rabid book.

"Cheers mate, okay so we've got Intermediate Transfiguration, Hagrid's book, Unfogging the Future … we just need The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Terry read aloud from the book list he had brought with him. "Blimey it's not a very original name is it?"

"Does it say which edition?" The proprietor, a tall man Harry had only briefly spoken to on his first visit, spoke up for the first time since they had entered. He was sat on his usual stool near the front of the shop and looked up from his book to point to a shelf behind Neville. "The only copies of Arsenius Jigger's defensive work we have are some first edition's. I should warn you, they are … frowned upon by the Ministry though not explicitly illegal."

"Wicked." Terry whispered as he pulled down three copies of the book before he stopped and put one back as he glanced in Harry's direction. "Er do you have any in Braille?"

"Three shelves down and six books to the right." Came the almost instant reply, although the owner had turned back to his own book and continued his reading by this point.

"Ah…thanks." Terry awkwardly called back in a false whisper as he collected the Braille copy for Harry.

It turned out that, despite being first edition's, the alternative copies of their defence book's were not all that expensive. They ended up paying as much for the second-hand copies as they would have for new one's in Flourish & Blotts but a quick comparison as they passed the larger book shop told Harry that their first editions were much thicker than the books Flourish & Blotts stocked, so he still considered it a good deal.

Albus Dumbledore was many things. Chief Warlock. Supreme Mugwump. Transfiguration Master. Defeater of Grindelwald. Apprentice to the Immortal Alchemist. But his favourite mantle was the one he found himself spending less and less time wearing. At heart, he was a teacher. While he still taught some NEWT level classes, his other responsibilities took up more and more of his time and attention. He had given up almost all of the classes he used to teach, passing them over to Minerva McGonagall who handled the additional work admirably. His least favourite mantle was one he had hoped to give up thirteen years ago, but alas fate conspired against him and now he was once again thrust into the role of a warrior.

There were very few Black's left alive after the Blood War, and of those few most were in Azkaban. He had visited the other three surviving members of the once great Black family already and learned little of use. Arcturus was old and his spirit was as broken as his body, the loss of his wife and family and a severe case of Dragon Pox had all but crippled him. He still needed watching, but Dumbledore doubted Sirius would turn to him for aid anyway. Too much bad blood had been spilt between Sirius and his family. Narcissa Malfoy would have little to do with Sirius either and Andromeda hated the man fiercely so he would find no help with them either.

The last surviving member of the Black clan was much harder to locate. Hiding away in Europe, Cassiopeia had escaped judgement and punishment after the Grindelwald's war thanks to the Black name and hefty donations to the ICW. However, she was still unwelcome in Britain and never dared return. It took Albus two days to find her home, an unnamed island off the coast of southern France where she lived in a chalet. It was hidden with powerful enchantments and several deadly wards, a web of magic that promised pain and death to any who dared cross it.

Albus rent a hole in the dense weave of enchantments with all the effort of a man walking through a spider's web. No subtlety or stealth, not with this witch. A show of force was required when dealing with Cassiopeia Black.

CRACK

"I suppose I should have expected you to turn up one of these days Albus." Cassiopeia was in her eighties but looked much the same as she had when he last saw her almost fifty tears earlier, her hair had greyed and a few lines had appeared on her regal face, but she was still a beauty. "Are you here to arrest me, Albus?" She had her wand in hand but had made no move to attack or flee so far.

"No, Miss Black. As far as the ICW are concerned, you are a free woman and have been for four decades or so." He replied calmly even as the Elder Wand sent a thrill of pleasure up his arm. It had been some time since he had flexed his power in such a way and the wand approved immensely, he had spent many years trying to lessen its bloodthirsty appetite but had yet to succeed.

"Then why have you sought me out?" Her words were still polite, but the tone had changed. Her voice was cold but Albus could see barely restrained madness in her eyes. Clearly four decades of solitude had not helped her already capricious nature.

"Your great-nephew, Sirius. He has escaped Azkaban and I wish to find him before any harm is done."

"To him or by him?" The Black witch asked with a cackle.

"Both."

Cassiopeia watched him curiously for several moments as the wind picked up and tugged at his beard, thankfully he had tucked it into his belt in anticipation of the trip to the island.

"You are the first visitor I have had in over thirty years Albus. Arcturus never forgave me for siding with Gellert, I'm fairly certain he told the rest of the family I was dead." For a moment Albus relaxed, this was a very different witch to the one who had carved a bloody path across Europe with Gellert.

That momentary lapse almost cost him his head as he barely deflected the curse aimed at his throat from the Black witch as she backed away with a fierce scowl.

"Forty years! You cost me my family Dumbledore, my life! I always left you alone for him, he made me promise not to harm you. But I don't think he will care anymore." Cassiopeia let loose an anguished scream as she hurled curses and hexes across the sand at him.

When they first crossed wands during the war, Albus had struggled with the almost inhuman speed she could move at and the breadth of her knowledge of obscure curses. Forty years ago she had been one of the few mages he had thought could defeat him besides Gellert. That was no longer the case. While she had spent her time cooped up in an idyllic prison, Albus had fought another war. He might have slowed down a touch once he crossed the century mark, but his skill had only grown.

With a flick of his wand, a wall of sand erupted to swallow the barrage of curses aimed his way. By all rights the curses should have been barely slowed by the barrier, but imbued as it was with the old mage's will it proved to be an impenetrable bulwark. As Cassiopeia paused to regain her breath, he flicked the remnants of his shield aside and twirled his wand in a looping motion. Flecks of light gathered at his wandtip and drifted to float above him until a dozen motes of bright light hung in the air a heartbeat later.

Evidently Gellert shared this particular spell with his protégé as she paled and summoned a formidable shield around herself. It would do her little good as Albus sighed and thrust his wand at the witch, sending the innocent looking stars rocketing across the beach one after another. He closed his eyes just in time to avoid the blinding light that accompanied each collision as the transfigured light erupted with thunderous impact against Cassiopeia's shield. When he and Gellert had first created that spell he had only managed to create one instance of transfigured light, but even that took all of his focus and energy at the time. Nearly a century later, he could comfortably summon a dozen but if he put some effort into it he suspected he could create at least two dozen of the motes.

He dragged himself from his introspection as the light faded and observed the effects of his spell. The beach around Cassiopeia was black and slick as the immense heat had turned the sand into rippled glass but, rather impressively, the witch was still standing although she looked to be swaying slightly. He waited for her to act as he gathered his magic, ready to defend against whatever she threw at him next, but she just stood staring at him in disbelief. No. Not at him. Past him.

He whipped around and deflected a cutting curse as a hooded figure, wearing a depressingly familiar mask, tried to catch him unaware with their attack. Three other cloaked and masked figures quickly joined the attack and Dumbledore took a few careful steps backwards, deflecting and blocking curses all the while, until he felt water lap at his boot. He stepped back twice more until the water was spilling over the top of his boots and soaking the bottom of his robes and only then did he stop defending. He dipped his wand into the warm sea and grasped the tide in an iron grip, summoning a sudden and immense wave that swept across the beach from behind him. The wave swallowed several curses before it engulfed the Death Eaters and carried them down the length of the beach, spitting them out into the sand which opened and then swiftly closed around them leaving only their heads uncovered.

"You are still weak. Gellert would have destroyed them in a heartbeat." Cassiopeia muttered as she walked across to join him, her earlier hostility seemingly forgotten.

"Mercy is not weakness." Albus replied calmly, though internally he wrestled with a voice that echoed the Black witch's sentiments. His hand ached to direct the Elder Wand's fury at the cloaked figures and put a stop to their dark intentions permanently, but he resisted and instead picked up a shell from beside his boot. "Portus"

He threw the shell onto the beach between the four of them and then triggered the anchor. The shell and a cube of sand that contained the Death Eaters disappeared in a whirl, transporting them to the Ministry holding cells where they could be dealt with by the Aurors.

"Unless that portkey took them to Azkaban or a cliff edge, you were too merciful. I alwa-" Whatever else she was going to say was cut off as she fell to the ground, blood pooling from her chest and soaking into the sand as Albus knelt and pressed his wand to the wound as he attempted to staunch the bleeding. "Y-you killed during the war, Albus. Y-you know sometimes it-its necessary." She coughed out as blood speckled her lips.

"Hold on Cassiopeia. Gellert would kill us both if I let you die like this." Albus half-joked as he tried to counter the dark magic that suffused the two inch hole in her chest, a few fingers lower and it would have struck her heart but even as he wrestled with the tendrils of dark magic he knew he couldn't stop it. Three beats of her heart later and it stopped as the curse ripped it apart.

Albus stood solemnly as he eyed the dead witch who had wrought such carnage in her youth. He gestured with his wand and gently covered her in black wrappings as he turned to look at the rest of the island with a frown. Cassiopeia had been truthful when she told him she had received no other visitors, he could tell. A wasted trip and a needless loss of life.

Although the fact that Tom's followers had followed and attempted to attack him made him think that perhaps he was close to something they did not want him looking into. Very few of Tom's Death Eaters would dare risk openly duelling with him, and those that would were all in Azkaban. Was there something in France they were hiding? Or perhaps it was the person he was visiting? Either way it merited further investigation. After he had returned to Britain with his findings though. He took a deep breath and sighed as he turned back to the fallen witch before he apparated away with a hand on her floating body to keep her in tow. He could return her to Britain and lay her to rest with the rest of her family at least.

END

Chapter Text

Authors Notes

Hi all and Merry Christmas! Posting this chapter a little early as a holiday treat. Big thank you to everyone who has read and liked the story as always!

Please leave a comment if you like the story!

Chapter 23

The first of September arrived in no time and for once, Harry didn’t have to sneak away before dawn to avoid bumping into Vernon and potentially triggering one of his fits of rage. Vernon had been home for a grand total of eleven nights throughout the summer and most of those had been flying visits, Petunia explained that he had been ‘promoted’ to a regional position and his new job involved travelling to each factory Grunnings owned in Britain and spending several days checking they were running properly before he moved on to the next. Vernon was pleased with the change because it came with a pay increase and a new title, Dudley was pleased because he got presents whenever Vernon came home, and Harry was pleased because the less time he spent around Vernon the better. 

So while he did wake up early on September 1^st, he was in no rush as he sat in the kitchen with his aunt and they shared a pot of sweet tea and some toasted teacakes. He had received a letter a week earlier from Professor Flitwick informing him that someone would be coming by the house that morning to escort him to Platform 9 ¾, so he had no early morning taxi to catch this year.

He was just finishing his second teacake and wiping the buttery crumbs on his napkin when two heavy knocks sounded from the front door. He hurriedly brushed the last crumbs from his fingers and made his way to the door, he was reasonably sure that it would be the ‘escort’ that Flitwick had mentioned but he still drew his wand in his off-hand and hid it behind the door as he swung it open slightly.

“I like your thinkin’ Potter, but next time keep your wand in your strong hand.” Alastor Moody commented with a grin as he stood leaning against his staff on the doorstep. “At least until you can use that stave of yours properly.”

“Hello Alastor!” Harry greeted cheerfully as he opened the door fully and invited the older Auror inside and tucked his wand back in the new holster he had bought in Diagon Alley, he had outgrown his old one. “I’ll remember that, thanks.”

“Hmph well at least you don’t keep your wand in your pockets. Best way to lose a cheek that.” Alastor grunted as he limped into the hallway, his enchanted eye whirling in every direction all the while.

“Oh hello … you must be Alastor, yes?” Petunia asked nervously from the kitchen doorway, Harry had talked about the Auror in many letters and his description was fairly unique; an enchanted eye, scars criss-crossed his face, a false leg and an engraved staff topped with a carved Griffon’s head.

“Aye, Alastor Moody at your service.” Moody’s face contorted into a slightly sinister shape, Harry had been shocked by it the first time but quickly realised that the man couldn’t control it, the scars around his mouth pulled and twisted his genuine smiles into a twisted thing. Thankfully his aunt didn’t seem too offput and returned the smile, along with an offer of tea. “Ah I’m fine but thank you.”

“How are we getting to Kings Cross then Alastor? Are we apparating? Or taking the Knight Bus?” Harry asked eagerly as he pulled on his jacket and grabbed his cane from its place leaning against the wall.

“Neither.” Alastor reached into his overcoat pocket and pulled out a tin can without a lid, he placed it on the kitchen table and then dug around in his pocket again. “You ever heard of a Portkey, Potter?”

“I think they’re mentioned in a few of the advanced Charms books I’ve read.” Harry nodded as he leaned closer to the tin can and focused his attention on the dimly coloured weave of yellow magic that swirled through the metal.

“Aye I suppose they would be. Well you can ask your professors for a proper explanation on them, all you need to know for now is that they’re illegal to make if you aren’t part of the Magical Transportation Department at the Ministry. This one was made yesterday and will take whoever is touching it to Kings Cross at half past ten.” Alastor pulled his hand from his pocket and dropped a blue knitted sock onto the table next to the tin can. “This was enchanted by someone from outside the Magical Transportation Department. You’ll be taking the sock, I’ll be taking the can.”

“I thought it was illegal for someone to make a Portkey if they’re not in the Transportation Department?” Harry asked even as he recognised the distinctive violet magic woven between the woollen threads, specks of black and white dancing along the edge of the sock to a silent melody. “Oh. Well if the sock is … better? Shouldn’t we just both use that one?”

“Perhaps, but the Ministry can track Portkeys and if they saw one triggered here or if the can triggered somewhere else then they might send someone to investigate. Albus’ Portkey probably won’t flag up on the map but even if it does, it should be hidden by the Ministry approved Portkey activating at the same time. So I will take the can, you will take the sock.” Alastor pulled a pocket watch out and glanced at the time before he tucked it away again. “Ah right best say your goodbye’s Harry, they’ll trigger in about a minute.”

“Oh goodbye Aunt Petunia! I’ll write to you once I’m at school!” Harry gave his aunt a tight hug and she kissed him on the cheek and adjusted his new glasses so they sat straight on his face, they were a present for his birthday as his old ones had begun to dig into his ears.

“Be safe dear and I’ll expect a letter tonight!” Petunia pushed the handle of his trunk into his hand and he awkwardly fumbled with his cane until he could hold both in one hand, leaving his left hand free to grab the sock.

“Right now don’t let go of the sock, don’t try to hold your breath, and remember to bend your knees.” Alastor advised as he picked up the tin can and lifted his cane into the air slightly. “Three.”

Harry noticed the enchantments on the Portkey’s began to shiver and move, expanding and glowing as they twisted.

“Two.”

The magic in the sock expanded into a bubble of lines and runes that surrounded Harry, tendrils of violet light drifted down to sink into his stomach, just below his navel. He could feel something happening but as he tried to see the magic it suddenly brightened until it was almost blinding to his sight.

“One”

The tendrils that had sunk into his chest suddenly grew taught and he felt a tugging at his navel as the sphere of violet magic around him swirled and twisted. It felt very different to apparition, he wasn’t being squeezed through space this time. Instead, it felt more like he was being dragged, gently, through space as the magic of the Portkey pulled him across England. He couldn’t see beyond the bubble of magic but he did notice as it began to slow, strands of the magic separating and peeling off from the sphere.

He didn’t know what caused it, but some instinct told him that the magic was almost finished and he bent his knees to soften the landing, but it wasn’t necessary. Whether it was because the creator of his Portkey was more talented or just luck, he didn’t know but his arrival had all the impact of a feather. As if he had simply taken a single step, he arrived on Platform 9 ¾.

He must have looked a bit odd, stood on the platform with a knitted sock in one hand and his trunk and cane in the other but he didn’t care. He was nearly back at Hogwarts and he couldn’t wait to return to the magical castle. He was so distracted by the sight of the giant enchanted train waiting for him that he almost missed the arrival of the second Portkey. A twisting circle of dim yellow magic appeared on the Platform a little ways off to his left, it expanded and split to form a sphere that wobbled slightly in the air a few feet off the ground. It took almost ten seconds for the sphere to fully form and then collapse, and as it broke apart it revealed Alastor Moody. And promptly dropped him two feet to the ground.

To his credit, the Auror landed surprisingly gently considering his false leg and staff. As soon as he landed the man dropped the can and as it clattered to the floor he drew his wand, his enchanted eye performed a full circuit as he inspected the platform around him. Finding nothing suspicious, he stepped across to Harry and gave him a once over with his natural eye.

“How was it? You didn’t throw up which is always a good sign.”

“Er yeah, it was fine thanks. Smoother landing than yours I think which might have helped.” Harry shrugged as the Auror plucked the sock from his hand and stowed it in his jacket.

“Aye well that makes sense, I’ve had worse but any of the half-decent Ministry enchanters get snapped up by us or the … well anyway. Let’s get you on the train and squared away.”

The platform was not busy as the train wouldn’t be leaving for a good half an hour, but it was still amusing to witness the reactions of various witches and wizards as they saw and recognised Alastor’s grim profile stalking across the tiled floor to the second carriage. Most of them turned away and did their best to ignore him, a rare few nodded in greeting, one wizard actually turned and ran away when he saw Moody approaching which caused the Auror to chuckle darkly.

“Right, I happen to know that your Defence professor will be taking the Express into Hogwarts as well and he’ll be in the next carriage.” Alastor explained as he opened the door to one of the compartments and gestured for Harry to step inside. “That and the enchantments on the train should keep you safe, and there are Aurors posted at Hogsmeade to escort everyone to the castle. But that isn’t license to be foolish, don’t go anywhere alone and keep your wand on you at all times, yes?”

“I will, I promise. I’m not going to go looking for a crazy dark wizard Alastor.”

“Good lad.” The grizzled Auror backed out of the compartment and eyed the cane in Harry’s hand with a small grin. “Albus showed me your little light trick from the Chamber, if you can get through this year with decent grades, I’ll see about showing you how to use that stave of yours properly.”

Harry couldn’t contain his smile at the thought of learning to use his stave, he had yet to see Alastor wield his to perform magic but he knew that it required immense focus and concentration to channel magic effectively through one. He gripped the warm wood and brushed his fingers across the intricate carvings that covered the length of it, pins and needles prickled his fingertips as he traced a carved vine and the runes engraved along it.

Ever since he had somehow conjured the jagged tree of light in the Chamber, the stave had felt different in his hands. Warmer to the touch, it seemed to hum silently when he held it now, giving off the sensation of a contented animal slumbering after exerting itself. It wasn’t dissimilar to how his wand sometimes reacted to his touch, the burst of warmth was very similar, but his wand had a different sensation. Less a hum and more of a wordless melody, a silent song he could almost hear. It filled him with a sense of boundless energy sometimes, other times it helped him to quiet his mind and brought about a sense of peace he struggled to find normally.

“Do you want some time alone to fondle your stick mate?”

Unfortunately, no song could compete with Terry’s smug chuckling as he lifted his trunk and stored it above the seats.

“You’ve been spending too much time around Neville, and he’s been spending too much time around Seamus.” Harry remarked as he leaned back in his seat and smiled at his fellow Ravenclaw.

“Yeah, I sometimes miss the shy little Gryffindor he used to be.” Terry leaned up against the window and peered out at the, now much busier, platform. “Speak of the devil, I think I can see him there. Yep, that’s him, his gran is wearing that awful hat again.” 

“You mean the stuffed bird thing she was wearing in the Alley?”

“Yeah that’s the one. Oh speaking of Diagon, did you hear about what happened the day after we went shopping?”  Terry asked excitedly as he fell back onto the seat opposite Harry.

“No?”

“There was a raid in Knockturn that night, someone reported seeing Black down there so a whole squad of Aurors swarmed the place, but they couldn’t find a trace of him. They were there all night and most of the next day, old Caractacus Burke ended up complaining to the Ministry and they eventually left but still.”

“So either it was a false alarm, or Black really was there and he managed to escape completely undetected when a dozen highly trained Aurors were searching for him.” Terry nodded at Harry’s description.

“I mean I’ve heard some of the newer Aurors aren’t all that good, but the Auror Captain’s are all from the Blood War with You-Know-Who, they’re the real deal and at least two of them were there apparently.” Terry added but it did little to alleviate Harry’s concerns. If Black could escape Azkaban and then a whole group of Auror’s, what was to stop him attacking when they got off the train? His cane trembled in his grip, but he couldn’t tell if it was from his hand shaking or the magic of the stave responding to his emotions.

“Hey guys, sorry Gran started talking to Mr Greengrass about something and I couldn’t get away.” Neville greeted as he stumbled through the doorway, pulling his trunk behind him. “Did you hear about the raid on the Alley?”

“Terry was just telling me about it, someone reported seeing Black but the Aurors couldn’t find him?” Harry summarised as Neville took a seat and shook his head nervously.

“No, it’s worse than that. The Minister tried to hide it but apparently one of the Auror’s spotted Black in Knockturn and Black attacked him and stole his wand. Poor bloke is still in St Mungo’s, just keeps talking about dark spirits and necromancy and all sorts.” Neville shook his head sadly as he finished his hushed retelling.

“Eep!” Terry squeaked and jumped as the train suddenly jolted into movement and both Harry and Neville fell into laughing fits at his reaction, the dour mood lifted as Terry flushed and settled back into his seat grumpily.

The conversation turned quickly to their new classes as the train made its way out of London, travelling north on its journey into Scotland.

“I’m telling you, Divination is for old ladies and swindling idiots out of their gold. You can’t predict the future with any real accuracy unless you use Arithmancy!” Terry insisted as they repeated their argument for the third time.

“There are proven instances of Prophecies and Seers being right mate, I won’t deny that Arithmancy works as well but what if you don’t have time to calculate all the variables? And even if you do, what if there are things you haven’t factored into the equation? In a classroom environment Arithmancy might be more accurate, but in the real world you don’t always have time to sit down and fill in a bunch of equations.” Harry argued, admittedly he was regurgitating what he had heard from Percival Dearborn and Castamir, but he had read enough on the subject to agree with them on this.

Arithmancy was the science of using numbers to predict the future, but in order to get a reasonably accurate result you needed to have as much information as possible. It was based on a similar theory as muggle probability calculations and was undeniably effective, so long as you had time to research as much information as possible to do with what you wanted to predict. Everything from wind speed, temperature, the size of the area or object or person you wanted to predict the future of, time and date and even colour could all be used.

“Arithmancy is used by Curse Breakers and Spellsmith’s all the time, I thought you wanted to be a Curse Breaker Harry? They don’t look into crystal balls or read palms to work out how to break into tombs!”

“There are Divination spells as well mate, it’s not all tea leaves and Tarot cards.” Harry pointed out as rain began to hammer at the window, the previously bright and clear sky was now grey and cloaked in threatening clouds as thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Wait, really? There are spells to predict the future?” Terry asked as he slumped in his seat, some of the fight leaving him at the revelation.

“Not specifically to predict the future, but there are scrying spells you can use to try and find the answer to a question. They use them for trying to locate people and missing objects, but apparently they do sometimes show hints at the future.” Harry explained as he stood and reached up to open his trunk.

“Really? Then why do you need a crystal ball for Divination class?” Neville also looked confused at hearing that there were actual spells involved in Divination.

“Well ….” Harry grunted as he closed his trunk and sat back down with his copy of ‘Unfogging the Future’ in his hands. “Technically any reflective surface will do for most basic Divination, the druids used pools of water and some people use mirrors, it just needs to be a real reflection. You can’t use a conjuration or a spell to make it.”

He flicked through the pages until he found the chapter on scrying he was looking for, running his fingers across the page until he found the section he remembered.

“Yeah so it says here that the reflection is a symbol for your soul or your magic seeking answers, it’s the reflection that does the scrying and then you see or hear or feel whatever it finds. If it finds anything. You have to have the right state of mind or something, I’m not sure but it’s still interesting.”

“I still say Arithmancy is more reliable. You don’t have to have inner peace or whatever to do Arithmancy.” Terry grumbled. Neville looked like he was going to say something but as he opened his mouth the train juddered and rattled as they came to a screeching halt. The rain redoubled its efforts to break through the window as the train sat still on the tracks.

“What was that? We can’t be at the castle yet, we’re a good hour away still surely.” Terry asked as the door slid open to reveal Susan, Hannah and little Luna huddled in the doorway.

“Do you mind if we join you? Ernie and Justin are being annoying.” Susan asked as Luna skipped into the compartment and hopped on the bench beside Neville.

“Sure, hold on.” Harry picked his book up and tucked it in between him and the window so the two Hufflepuff’s could sit next in the remaining space on his side of the compartment.

“Thanks Harry, so what do you think is happening? Do you think we’ve broken down?” Hannah poked her head out of the door to look down the carriage as she asked.

“The engine is powered by enchanted fire, it’s not failed or needed repairing since the 1850’s.” Luna chirped from her seat beside Neville as she stared at the ceiling in fascination. Her attention drew Harry’s interest and he noticed that the enchantments that lined the carriage were buzzing and moving faster than he had ever seen before. Symbols and threads were burning so brightly against the panelling that he was surprised they didn’t ignite the wood.

The carriage suddenly jostled and jerked again, as if the tracks were shaking beneath them and one of the others let out a small shriek as shouts and screams echoed along the train. It took Harry a moment to realise that the lights must have gone out as Hannah moved carefully back to her seat, lightning flashed outside and thunder sounded above them as the sounds from along the train quietened again.

“Should we try to send an owl to Hogwarts or something?” Terry asked as Harry turned his attention back to the enchantments on the ceiling. The previously buzzing magic had quietened and almost completely stilled, as if the energy that sustained them had been used up or sapped away leaving them to drift listlessly across the wood.

More screams sounded from somewhere down the train, shrieks of terror as a cold wind rushed into the compartment. Frost crept up the window and fogged the glass of the door as some of the shrieks subsided to exhausted whimpers.

“Colloportus. Duro. Arderos Fax.” Harry sketched a hexagon and a triangle in the air and pushed the magic into the door as Castamir had taught him, laying his magic over the glass and letting it sink into the wood as the enchantment took hold. The door slid closed with a heavy thud as it became many times denser and stronger, the first two spells were purely defensive and would hold up against most spells or even the strength of a Troll reasonably well.

“Good thinking, that should…” Neville’s words died in his mouth as ice spread across the door, the temperature dropped to below freezing in seconds as the magic Harry had infused the door with struggled against the cold. The green runes swam lethargically through the wood as his magic fought valiantly to resist whatever was causing it but, as an ominous shadow fell across the frosted glass, the emerald spell stilled and turned a limp and lifeless grey as it splintered and dissipated.

The door cracked and collapsed into icy chunks to reveal the intruder floating in its place. It had a vaguely humanoid shape, but the similarities to a person ended there. This thing was horrifying. The arms and lower limbs of the creature were a sickening patchwork of bleeding reds, unending blacks and lifeless greys all stitched together. The colours clashed and fought each other in a way Harry had never seen before, pushing and pulling in desperate attempts to free themselves from their forced positions. Harry had never seen magic in pain before, but he knew at a deep and fundamental level that he was seeing just that. Whatever magic had gone into this creature wanted to escape, to be free of the core of this being. And what a core it was. Where the limbs and edges of the torso were a hodgepodge of screaming magic, the upper torso and head were just void. There was no colour, no real shape or form that he could see. Just an absence where the chest and head should have been. A blurred distorted outline of a bald head and skeletal shoulders gave it a vague shape, but the sight of it sickened Harry.

The compartment and its inhabitants froze. Ice claimed the floor and frosted eyelashes as the thing floated inside, observing them sightlessly and silently as it turned its nauseating not-head in each of their directions. It turned to each of them once and looked almost about to turn away when it suddenly surged closer and loomed over Harry’s seat. He couldn’t see what the others could but he could hear a wet rattling breath as it’s not-head drew closer to him.

He couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

There was only cold and as his awareness flickered and shrank, contracting until only he and the monstrosity were within it, he felt an abject terror seize him. Even after facing the Basilisk in the Chamber, or Voldemort in his first year, his greatest fear had always been the darkness. The nothingness that lingered at the edges of his sight at all times, threatening to reclaim him and drag him back into the dark he had lived in before his Fulgomancy. He had heard other blind people could still see some things, specks of light or faint shadows. Not so for him. For him it was just empty darkness, unending and unrelenting. But even as a child, he had noticed things. Movement. He had hoped it to be his eyes at first, some remnant of his normal sight at work. But as the years passed and he noticed them more, he knew that wasn’t the case.

There was a primal fear of the dark embedded in humans for a reason. Harry’s ancestors had cultivated fire and magic for a reason beyond lighting the way at night. Fell things hunt in the dark places of the world. Even in the places no one can see. Especially in the places no one can see. No one else at least.

This thing that had invaded the train. This thing sapping his warmth. Stealing his breath. Stilling his heart. This was kin to those shapes he had almost seen in the dark. It was fear.

His awareness flickered as his heart stuttered in his chest and dwindled until it barely encompassed his body before he was once again consumed by darkness.

Except he wasn’t. In front of him, leaning over him in the empty nothingness of his vision was the thing. He could see it now. Not with his Fulgomancy, his sight had failed him, but he could see this thing nonetheless. Cloaked in black rags, an emaciated and rotten corpse-like figure with skeletal fingers and, under its deep hood, a head with no eyes or nose. Just a gaping maw that begged to devour him.

He had never been so certain he was going to die before and the feminine scream that echoed around him only solidified it for him.

“Paxanama”

A rush of warmth flowed down his body as Harry awoke. He almost wished he hadn’t when his body screamed at him painfully for trying to act.

“Ah there we go, take it easy Mr Potter. Dementors are truly awful creatures and their effects can be equally horrid. Here chew this. Slowly.” He felt something smooth and warm pushed into his cold hands and gripped it slowly as he tried to overcome the stiffness that lingered in his limbs.

“Thank you Professor, if you hadn’t been here I- ” Susan choked on a sob and Harry heard rustling as she moved beside him.

“I wouldn’t be a very good Defence Professor if I didn’t know how to repel a … Dark Creature, would I?” The warm voice answered as Harry reached out for the edge of the seat to pull himself up. At some point he had fallen to the floor and it took him a moment to lift himself back onto the cushioned bench. He reached his free hand up to his face and panicked briefly when he couldn’t feel his glasses.

“Here you go mate.” Terry whispered from across from him and he felt the tinted glasses slide onto his face, the arms settling comfortably on his ears and he smiled weakly in thanks to his friend.

 “Right, I’m going to go and check on the other compartments and then speak with the driver. I will check back in on you shortly.” There was a brief moment as the man paused and then Harry felt a hand touch his arm gently. “You really should eat that, it will make you feel better. I promise.”

Then he was gone and Harry sat stiffly in his seat while the others whispered to themselves. His limbs still felt heavy but he lifted his hand to his mouth and bit down on the fragment he had been given. Sweet warmth melted across his tongue and down his throat, banishing the cold that clung to him as he swallowed and took another bite. Only after he had finished the chocolate did he try to use his sight as he had when he first awoke, this time he managed to extend his awareness around him to fill the compartment and the headache that accompanied it was bearable, much better than the agonising pain that had flashed across his head when he first awoke.

“So that was a Dementor.” He said aloud as he reached down and picked up his cane and wand from where they lay on the floor beside his feet. “I think I understand why Hagrid called them monsters now.”

That drew a snort from a pale Neville was holding his own piece of half-eaten chocolate in shaking hands.

“Is everyone okay?” Harry asked as he leant back in his seat and wrapped both hands around his cane, it’s warmth was helping almost as much as the chocolate had. Neville nodded but Harry could see the boy trembling, whether from the cold or the Dementor’s other effects he wasn’t sure. Luna had moved to sit beside Hannah and Susan and the three girls were huddled together but beyond a few shivers, they seemed to have come through relatively unscathed.

“We’re fine mate, bit shaken up but other than that…” Terry let his words tail off as he looked out of the window briefly. The train must have started moving again while Harry had been unconscious because the gently rocking and rhythmic clickety-clack had resumed already.

“So no one else …?” Harry asked as he gestured to himself and the floor.

“Fainted? No I don’t think so, course it didn’t take so much interest in the rest of us either, Professor Lupin reckoned it was searching for Black but I dunno.” Terry traced a symbol onto the window and then wiped it away and started again.

The rest of the journey passed in relative quiet as they all did their best to recover from their encounter with one of Azkaban’s guards, only moving when the train finally came to a halt and they could disembark.

They joined the noticeably muted crowd of students as they made their way up the path to where the carriages waited to transport them up to the Castle, there were some whispers about the Dementors, and Harry learned that two had searched the train, but no one mentioned his collapse. At least, not until they were at the Castle and making their way up the stone steps to the entrance hall.

“Oi! Oi Potter!” Harry stopped and sighed as Draco Malfoy barged through the crowd to stand in front of him, accompanied by his ever-faithful bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle. “I heard you fainted Potter, is that true? Explains why you weren’t put in Gryffindor like your parents at least, but even for a ‘Claw that isn’t very brave.”

He didn’t know if it was the mention of his parents or just the stress of the day catching up to him, but he had his wand drawn in the time it took Malfoy to finish his comment. He resisted the urge to jinx the blond and kept it pointed firmly at the floor, but the temptation was there.

“I suppose if your example of a lion is Longbottom then it’s understandable, I’m surprised he didn’t go like his par-” Malfoy fell silent even as his mouth moved, forming words that nobody could hear.

“Term officially starts once students have stepped foot on school grounds Mr Malfoy, so that will be ten points for your unkind words.” A warm but rough voice cut across the steps as a tall man stepped through the crowd to stand between Harry and Malfoy. “Now I think you should head inside and join the rest of your housemates, yes?”

Malfoy scowled and stalked away silently, by choice or because of the Professor’s spell, and the rest of the crowd continued through the enormous doors and into the castle.

“Thank you, Professor Lupin.” Neville muttered from behind Harry as the man nodded and gestured for them to head inside.

It was Harry’s first chance to actually see him since his Fulgomancy had returned to him and he was surprised by the man’s magic and appearance. He had warm brown magic with streaks of silver carved into it, like scars that had healed wrong. He was tall and thin, but he had thin scars that left puckered white lines across his face and neck. He seemed nice enough and according to Terry he had driven off the Dementor, so he clearly knew his stuff. But Harry had two years of bad experiences with Defence teachers so the suspicion he felt was ingrained, he resolved to withhold judgement until their first lesson with the man.

“Where do you think you are going, Mr Potter?” Madam Pomfrey demanded as she intercepted him a few steps from the doors to the Great Hall.

“Oh hello Madam Pomfrey, I was just heading in for the Welcome Feast?” Harry tried to sound nonchalant as he made a small step towards the open doors but the nurse moved smoothly to step in his way.

“Oh no you don’t, Professor Lupin informed me of what happened on the train. You’ll be coming with me for a check-up before you go anywhere.” Harry gave a defeated nod and followed the Matron away from his friends and the warm welcome of the Great Hall. “I’ll catch up with you at the feast.”

“I’ll save you a seat mate.” Terry called back as he and Neville were swept along by the crowd of students eager to reach their seats.

Thankfully Madam Pomfrey didn’t take Harry all the way to the Hospital Wing, instead she led him to a small disused classroom that had been turned into a storeroom at some point. It was filled with chairs and desks with dusty sheets thrown over the tops, but it was quiet and out of the way which was good enough.

“I’m sorry to pull you away from the feast Mr Potter, but Dementors are awful creatures and their effects can linger. This won’t take long, just stand still for me please.” The nurse waved her wand through a series of complicated movements and Harry stood as still as he could as the spell surrounded him and pressed against him. It was like a gentle mist had formed around his body, but in places the mist would flash or glow or shiver and these reactions seemed to mean something to the matron who hummed thoughtfully. “Any chest pains? Lingering chills? Numbness in your fingers?”

“No not really, I mean I was stiff and cold at first, but the chocolate Professor Lupin gave us helped a lot.” Harry answered as the spell faded from around him and he let out a small sigh of relief.

“Hm yes well he would know how to remedy the after-effects I suppose. Very well, I will let you go but if you experience any headaches or pains then come straight to the Hospital Wing.” Harry nodded eagerly and the nurse released him to head to the feast.

He slipped through the great doors just as the last first year sat down at Hufflepuff and was pleased to see the tables fill with food moments later. He drew a few glances as he paced down the middle of the hall, the distinctive sound of his cane on the stone floor was enough to alert most to his identity. As third years, Terry had taken a seat halfway down the table and Harry was pleasantly surprised to find Luna was sat next to him. The two slid apart as Harry stepped up to the bench and he sat down between them as his stomach let out a disturbingly loud grumble.

“Good timing mate, Luna helped me save you a seat.” Terry greeted as he piled sausages and mashed potato onto his plate and then reached eagerly for the gravy boat.

“Thanks mate, thank you Luna.” Harry smiled at the blonde girl on his left as he thanked her and reached for the roast chicken.

“That’s alright Harry Potter, did Madam Pomfrey find any Wrackspurts when she checked you?” Luna asked as she spooned peas onto her full plate. Somehow she had managed to create a somewhat lopsided pyramid out of mashed potato and was now decorating it with other vegetables.

“Ah no, no I don’t think so. I’ll have to ask her to check next time I see her.” Luna nodded wisely at his response and placed a single pea at the zenith of her edible pyramid, it actually looked quite impressive to Harry. Then she dug a chunk out of the side with her fork and it collapsed as she set about eating the fallen marvel.

Once the last of the food disappeared and Harry was feeling remarkably full, the Headmaster stood, his usually jovial tone was much sterner when he spoke though he still smiled broadly at the assembled Hall.

“Welcome back to another year. I am sure you are all keen to go to bed so I will do my best to keep this brief. We have a new member of staff joining us for this year, Professor Lupin will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor. He has much experience with the subject so you would do well to learn from him all you can while he is here.” Professor Lupin stood from his seat between Professor Flitwick and Hagrid and nodded politely at the introduction. “We also have a new Care of Magical Creatures instructor, Professor Kettleburn has elected to retire and recommended his successor be our own Rubeus Hagrid.” This time the introduction was met with some cheers from small groups scattered through the Hall, Harry and Terry were among them, as were some older students who must have known the man from his time assisting Kettleburn.

“Alas now for the less joyous news. The Ministry has decided that the castle is at risk and so Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the Dementors of Azkaban. Until such a time as Sirius Black is captured the Dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds. They are not permitted on the grounds but a word of caution, Dementors are vicious, merciless creatures. They do not distinguish between the one they hunt for and the one who gets in their way. Therefore, I must warn all of you to give them no reason to harm you. It is not in their nature to hesitate or be forgiving.”

The hall fell silent at the Headmaster’s grim words and the march up to the common rooms was a dour one. The Dementors presence on the train had been a horrible experience for everyone, even those who had only briefly encountered them. To hear that they would be lingering around the edges of the school grounds for the foreseeable future was not welcome news.

END

Chapter Text

Authors Notes

Happy New Year all! Apologies for the delay on this chapter, I struggled with how to cover the new subjects and even now I'm not 100% happy with it. I am aware that Ancient Runes isn't in this chapter, don't worry it will be in the next along with Transfiguration and Potions. Thank you to everyone who has Followed, Favourited and Reviewed! It is amazing to see the support for this story so thank you.

Reviews

Griffin Blackwood - I think mostly it is just because it is a sign of weakness that Malfoy can jump on and try to use, but reacting poorly to Dementors is definitely not uncommon so I agree. Thanks for the review and support!

BJJPanda - Harry was briefly unconscious and other students walked past his compartment and would have seen, gossip travels fast in any school let alone a magical one. 

littleemberlou - Thank you! Yes we will be departing even more from Canon now, with Mad Eye and Castamir hunting for Sirius he will have to pull out all the stops. 

littleemberlou - I'm glad you like them! Yes Harry will definitely be learning more from Remus this year and Mad Eye will build on that. Divination is an interesting subject that I think is criminally underused in HP so I am expanding on it in this fic. 

William E Cipher13 - I hope this satisfies you for now, I won't say more of Lupin's magic for now but keep an eye for changing details!

MsSpacey - Divination is more than just tea leaves and tarot cards, but yes he will definitely have difficulties with some parts of the subject. He was swayed by adults he trusts, as we all are, particularly Castamir who uses Divination as it is taught differently at Durmstrang. 

Phoenyx97 - He is! He has taken Ancient Runes, Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. 

Guest - Yes, I plan to finish this fic but I have to prioritise work and my personal life so currently I stick to one chapter a month.

Capricorni93 - Thank you! I am glad you are enjoying it so far. Harry's sight is a combination of Daredevil's awareness from the Netflix show, a kind of 360 radar awareness that he can expand or focus with concentration, but he struggles to see details and, like Daredevil he cannot read written words as his magic cannot detect them ... yet? I won't confirm pairings yet, but I don't think it will be Harry/Terry. In my mind they are very much the classic best buds, Terry is Harry's closest friend with Neville and the others close behind. 

Chapter 24

Each new Professor changed the Defence classroom to better suit their teaching method and style. Quirrell lined the walls with depictions of different dark creatures and then installed hanging censers that burned incense that filled the room with so-called 'warding scents'. Lockhart displayed nearly a dozen self-portraits and very little else. Professor Lupin had installed several bookcases and filled them with books on defensive theory and magical creatures, the portraits of Lockhart were gone and replaced with tapestries and paintings of wizard's duelling and fending off every creature imaginable.

It was a change that Harry approved of, anything was better than Lockhart's smarmy face, but as he sat down next to Terry his focus was on the other new addition to the room; a tall wooden wardrobe with what looked to be a standard locking charm binding the doors closed.

"Good morning, for those of you who missed the announcement, I am Professor Lupin and I will be instructing you this year in Defence Against the Dark Arts." Lupin greeted them from the front of the room as he leaned against his wide desk smiled at the class of Slytherin's and Ravenclaw's. "Now usually your third year is spent covering dangerous creatures before the Winter Holidays and then you would cover basic duelling after the Holidays. However, I have spoken with the Headmaster and after its rebirth last year, the Duelling Club will be reforming this year under mine and Professor Flitwick's supervision."

The announcement triggered a wave of interested whispers to fill the room but the muttering stopped when the wardrobe rattled violently, shaking enough to almost topple over before it rocked back into place.

"Ah that brings us nicely to the subject of today's lesson. Who can tell me what a Boggart is?" Lupin pointed at one of the Slytherin girls, Daphne Greengrass.

"A Boggart is a shapeshifter, they are formed when stray magic collects in dark places and typically transform to become a person's greatest fear when seen." Greengrass recited succinctly and Harry nodded as Lupin awarded her five points for the correct answer.

"Indeed, Boggarts are not living beings, much like Poltergeists they are created from random and chaotic magic combining in just the right environment. And as Miss Greengrass explained, they can tap into your mind and magic to become that which you fear most. They cannot harm you physically, but the fear they incite within you can cause its own damage. There are reports of people finding Boggarts and dying of fright or going mad. However, they do have a glaring weakness, can anyone guess what that would be?"

Harry thought back to the passage on Boggarts from their Defence book in first year and raised his hand when he recalled the section on how best to deal with them, it didn't explicitly state a weakness but the method it described implied one.

"Mr Potter?"

"Well the books say the best way to confront a Boggart is with a group, so if there is more than one person does the Boggart get confused about which fear to become? How would it pick which thing to shift into if there are multiple fears to choose from?" It wasn't a perfect answer, but it was good enough judging by Lupin's broad smile and confirming nod.

"Correct. When faced with multiple people, a Boggart will react based on proximity usually, which means there is more time for other's in the group to act while it is distracted. Now theoretically you could dispel a Boggart with a forceful disruption spell such as 'Finite Incantatum', but while a Boggart doesn't feed on fear in the same way a Dementor does, they still grow more powerful when they are inciting fear in a witch or wizard. So a clever witch in 1258 came up with a charm to force a Boggart into a less frightening form while also destabilising them. It can take a few applications but eventually the Boggart will disperse if you cast the spell correctly."

Throughout Lupin's explanation the wardrobe rattled and shook more and more violently, Harry could see the locking spell on the wooden door was wavering as whatever was inside struggled to escape. He was reasonably sure that, given the topic of discussion so far, the Professor had managed to find and capture a Boggart for their lesson and he naturally began to wonder what would appear if he were to face it. Voldemort and then the Basilisk flashed through his mind but then he shivered as a flash of cold burned in his chest. While both of those were truly terrifying foes, he had spent many years fearing the dark and the demon from the train quelled any spark of courage in his heart.

His thoughts caused him to move slowly when the rest of the class stood up to queue and he separated from Terry who somehow made it to the front of the line. Professor Lupin shared some hushed words with him and, after Terry gave a slightly nervous nod, the wardrobe opened as the locking spell faded. The wardrobe was unnaturally dark, a blend of grey and black threads shifted for a moment before they rearranged into the outline of a humanoid figure wrapped in stained bandages. A mummy lurched out of the wardrobe, patches of grey emaciated skin visible between yellowed linen strips as it took an unsteady step in Terry's direction. It was shockingly clear in Harry's sight, the logical part of his mind deduced that as a being of magic it made sense but he still took a half step back from the monster.

"Now Mr Boot needs to picture the Boggart turning into something else, something that conjures the opposite of fear. Something funny, and once he has the image fixed in his mind he can cast the spell, nice and clearly Terry." Lupin encouraged from his spot leaning against a desk off to the side.

"Riddikulus!" Terry shouted as he thrust his wand at the stumbling mummy, a wave of chaotic energy washed from his wand and crashed over the figure of the mummy as the spell collided with it. The shape of the mummy twisted as Terry's spell forced it to change. Dirty linen wrappings unravelled leaving a suddenly embarrassed figure trying to cover a pair of ludicrously bright pink underwear. The class erupted into chuckles and the figure recoiled as if physically struck by the sound.

"Well done Mr Boot, head to the back and let Miss Davis take her turn." Lupin instructed with a grin and Terry swaggered away, giving Harry a high-five when he passed him a few students behind Tracy Davis who had stepped up to the Boggart.

The bandage-less mummy twisted as the blonde girl pointed her wand at it, lengthening and distorting until an enormous centipede extended above her. A hundred jagged limbs, chitinous shell and two dripping fangs twitched in anticipation. Harry had no problem with most insects, although he had developed a disliking for spiders after his second year, but he couldn't help the shudder of revulsion that the oversized critter inspired in him. He was surprised that the Professor didn't step in as Davis stood seemingly frozen at the sight of her fear, but he did notice that the man was no longer leaning casually against a desk and had stepped closer to the front of the line of students.

"Ri-ridikulus…" Tracy half shouted as she waved her wand wildly at the giant insect. Her spell was less controlled than Terry's had been and had less of an effect on the Boggart, but the sight of a giant centipede with two bananas sticking out of it's maw instead of fangs still caused some light laughter and was enough for Lupin to signal the girl to step away.

The Boggart turned into a three-headed dog that looked suspiciously like Fluffy, then a Troll, a swarm of vicious wasps, a vampire and a hag before Harry reached the front of the queue and stood before it. The hag, which had been transformed to look like Filch wearing a dress, swayed in front of him and then it twisted into a swirl of black and grey before it settled into the form of a Dementor. Cloaked in tattered black, skeletal limbs poked from behind the material, too-long arms with claw-like fingers reached for him hungrily while it took a long rattling breath and leaned closer. The room grew cold and he could feel himself growing weak as the Dementor drained his warmth, his strength. This Dementor was bigger than the one from the train, it's arms longer and the shadow it brought with it plunged half of the room into darkness even in Harry's sight.

"Enough!" Lupin cried as he stepped in front of Harry, blocking him physically from the Boggart and drawing its attention onto himself. The Dementor transformed into a shining silver orb that hung in the air before Lupin banished it wordlessly back into the wardrobe.

"I'm sorry everyone, too much fun and all that. But well done to all of you who faced the Boggart, two points to each of you. No homework this time, off you go." Lupin dismissed the class but stopped Harry with a hand as he went to step past him. "Not you Mr Potter."

Terry looked torn but Harry waved him off and once the last student left the classroom Lupin walked back to his desk and leaned back against it.

"I'm sorry Mr Potter, I should have stepped in sooner. I had hoped you might have a more … mundane fear, I suppose I should be glad the Boggart didn't turn into Voldemort at least."

"Voldemort isn't … I mean he's scary, but the Dementor's are just …" Harry struggled to find the words to describe the terrifying creature he had encountered on the train.

"I understand." Lupin smiled softly and shook his head. "Dementors have existed for centuries, sometime after Ekrizdis built Azkaban they appeared and have plagued Britain ever since. The control the Ministry has over them is … delicate, they serve as guards of Azkaban and are allowed to feed on those imprisoned there. In exchange they do not leave the island unless instructed to do so by the Ministry. Voldemort swayed them to his side at the end of the war and for six months they wreaked havoc all over Britain."

"But there must be some way to fight them? Terry said you cast something on the train that scared them off." If he could learn that spell then he could stop dreading meeting one again.

"Ah Harry, that's not … Filius tells me you are very talented, but the spell I cast is extremely difficult. It isn't taught at Hogwarts until seventh year and only a handful of students ever manage to get even a weak result from it." Lupin explained reluctantly.

"But there are spells to fight them?"

"You … yes, there are a few ways to repel Dementors. I only know one of them, the Patronus Charm. It conjures a guardian of sorts to bear the brunt of their ill effects and fight them off but it really is an exceedingly difficult spell to cast Harry."

"Could you teach it to me?"

"Oh you are just like Lily."

The mention of his mother's name threw Harry completely. He didn't say anything as he stared at the Defence Professor who looked to regret his remark as he bowed his head.

"Let me speak with Professor Flitwick, if he agrees then one of us will teach you the theory at least. I make no guarantees that you will be able to cast it though." Lupin turned away and gestured to the door. "Now you should get going, you have class to get to."

Terry grunted as he hefted the Monster Book of Monsters under his arm, he had almost dropped it twice on the trek down to Hagrid's hut and once more on the short walk to the paddock on the edge of the forest.

"I still don't get why you won't let Harry charm your book Terry." Neville commented as he eyed the floating book that hovered a foot from his hip. Harry had charmed his own book as the odds of him not dropping the thing on the walk down were slim and he didn't want to chase it down if it woke up, Neville had eagerly asked for him to do the same to his own copy when he saw him.

"It's – it's the principle of it Nev." Terry dropped the book on the floor and quickly stamped a foot on it to stop it escaping when it growled aggressively. "We're meant to be learning how to deal with magical creatures, can't just float them all when we need t move them."

Harry resisted the urge to question his friend's logic and instead turned to look in Hagrid's direction as the half-giant clapped and addressed the class.

"Alrigh' lets get started. Firs' things firs', who managed ter open their books?" A smattering of hands appeared as Harry and a handful of other students signalled that they had figured out the trick for the books, the rest of the class grumbled lowly in the negative. "Hm well five points to ev'ryone who figured it out. You 'ave ter stroke the spine."

Hagrid stuck two fingers into his mouth and let out a piercing whistle, even a dozen feet away Harry winced as the sound cut into his ears. The reason for the sound quickly became apparent as four creatures stepped out from the trees, all four were majestic looking beasts that Harry recognised from his book immediately. Equine bodies with the head and wings of an eagle, they were clearly the lesser cousins of Griffins, Hippogriffs.

"Righ' say hello to Hogwarts' herd of Hippogriff's. This big one here is Buckbeak, he's the oldest and biggest we have. Migh' be the biggest in Britain come ter think of it." Hagrid gestured with an enormous hand to the lead Hippogriff, it stood a good ten feet tall with a wicked looking beak but most entrancing to Harry was the magic that clearly filled the creature's form. A beautiful blend of earthy browns and sky blues, it was a harmony of two opposing elements fused into a living creature and Harry had only seen the like once before. Fawkes the Phoenix was the living embodiment of fire and light, his magic was louder than the Hippogriff's more subtle energy, but the similarities were there.

"-nks for volunteering Harry." Harry tore his focus away from the creature's magic at the sound of his name and quickly noticed he was now the only student stood within a dozen feet of Hagrid, even Terry had backed away quietly. "You'll need to bow, nice and low. Sign of respect see."

The urge to refuse battled with Harry not wanting to mess up Hagrid's first lesson, inevitably his friendship with the gentle giant won out and he dropped his bag in preparation to greet the Hippogriff. He made his way carefully across the clearing until Buckbeak noticed him and Hagrid gestured for him to bow.

"You bow now Harry an' he'll bow back to let you know you can get closer." Harry dipped into a low bow, he was a touch nervous about exposing his neck to the Hippogriff's beak but he trusted that he could back away if it looked ready to attack. It took several long seconds before Buckbeak lowered his own head in a graceful bow and Harry let out a sigh of relief. He did his best to ignore Hagrid's own exhale that sounded suspiciously relieved, as Buckbeak stepped closer and leaned his head down slightly. "He'll let ya stroke him now Harry, just don't pull any feathers out."

Harry stroked the long grey feathers that circled Buckbeak's neck and head as Hagrid turned back to the class and talked more about the creatures.

"Hippogriff's will eat most anyfing smaller than them, rodents and ferrets and small deer and the like. Very territorial and very loyal creatures Hippogriffs and most of all, they're proud. Never insult a Hippogriff and always bow to them." Hagrid pulled a dead ferret from a brace around his shoulder and threw it into the air for Buckbeak to catch eagerly. "Righ' one at a time, come an' greet the other Hippogriff's just like Harry here did."

Hagrid sidled over to stand closer to Harry as the rest of the class lined up in front of the other three Hippogriff's who seemed curious as the first students bowed to them. Harry kept stroking Buckbeak for a few moments but he backed away as Hagrid fed him another ferret and observed the others greeting the Hippogriff's. Neville was bowing to one of the other Hippogriff's and looked deeply relieved when it bowed back, and he could nervously stroke it's neck. Terry was a few places behind Neville but quietly cheered for the Gryffindor much to his embarrassment.

"You're not dangerous at all, are you, you great ugly brute!" Harry was glad he had backed away as Buckbeak reared up in anger at the insult from Malfoy. The arrogant boy had strutted up to the Hippogriff without bowing and was now frozen in fear at the sight of the beast, wings flared and clawed talons descending towards him in retaliation.

"Depulso!" Harry hadn't managed to use the banishing charm on anything heavier than a book until that moment, but as blood pounded in his ears his magic responded to his desire and Malfoy was lifted off his feet and flung across the clearing to land heavily on the grass twenty feet away. Harry kept a tight grip on his wand as Buckbeak snapped his beak in annoyance and wondered if he would need to back away further. Thankfully Hagrid acted at that moment.

"BUCKBEAK!" Hagrid bellowed and, without a care for the razor-sharp talons or beak, he stepped up close to the angry Hippogriff and physically pushed him back away from the group. "Away with ya!"

Buckbeak seemed suitably chastised and trotted away with his head bowed low even as the class backed away from the remaining Hippogriff's in shock and fear, though a few seemed amused by Malfoy's predicament as the Slytherin was struggling to stand after his rough landing.

"J-just wait until my fa-" Malfoy was barely able to get the words out before Hagrid's mammoth shout silenced him.

"MALFOY! Wha' did I say about Hippogriff's?! Ruddy fool, he could 'ave 'ad your arm off!" Hagrid pointed towards the castle and growled at the still shaken Slytherin. "Get back up to the castle an' that'll be detention for a week!" In the face of Hagrid's anger, Malfoy did the smart thing and stumbled away, following the path up to the castle with Crabbe and Goyle following loyally behind.

The rest of the lesson passed relatively smoothly, after Buckbeak's demonstration of how a Hippogriff reacts when disrespected, the rest of the class showed the proper deference to the creatures and soon each Hippogriff had three or four students stroking and petting their necks. Harry promised Hagrid the lesson went well which was echoed by several other members of the class, and promised to join him for tea over the weekend. Despite Malfoy's actions, the lesson proved to be very popular and on the walk back up to the castle Harry smiled as he overheard snippets of conversation that were almost entirely positive. He did catch Pansy Parkinson muttering darkly with Theodore Nott but that wasn't surprising, she was almost always unhappy about something.

Thankfully they had lunch between Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration or Harry was not sure he could have made it to the classroom in time. As it was, he collapsed into his seat next to Terry a scant few moments before Professor McGonagall closed the door and began her lecture. They recapped the topics they covered in their second year and then she described a few of the areas they would be studying for their third year.

"This year we will be advancing onto more complex applications of animate-to-inanimate transfigurations as well as some more basic inanimate-to-animate spells, such as Draconifors." McGonagall jabbed her wand at her desk and it transformed briefly into a wooden dragon that roared silently and flapped timber wings before settling back down and reforming into a plain oaken desk. "But until the Winter Break we will be covering some theoretical topics as well, you had a demonstration in your first year of one of the most difficult forms of human transfiguration we know of. Can anyone name it? Mr Rivers?"

"You turned into a cat?" Oliver offered nervously from behind Anthony and Michael Corner who scoffed to themselves.

"I was hoping for a more technical description but yes, you are correct Mr Rivers. I am an Animagus, as such I can transform into an animal form at will, I do not need to speak an incantation or wave a wand to do so. I can see that the thought appeals to many of you so I must warn you, it is not an easy skill to learn. It takes years of study and just the initial steps are enough to put off most who would attempt it, there have been only three recorded Animagi in Britain in the past century. You must keep a Mandrake leaf in your mouth for one month, you cannot remove it or swallow it or you must start again and once the leaf starts to bleed there are side effects. Hallucinations, headaches, insomnia, temporary bouts of mania, spontaneous hair growth all across your body and then the crippling pain as your bones and muscles are affected by the plant's magic. You all remember the use of Mandrake's in the restorative potion used on the petrified victims last year, yes?"

The class all nodded and a few winced at the memory of the screaming plants, they were ugly little things and even with the earmuffs they had caused some headaches after Herbology class.

"I am sure Professor Sprout mentioned their properties in her lessons but for those of you unaware, Mandrake's possess very potent magic. Their magic is naturally destabilising, their cries can kill because they disrupt the magic flowing through your body, thus they are used in potions when there is a need to break down or disrupt a powerful magical effect such as a petrification or an enchanted sleep. Instead of using the roots, the Animagus process requires a single leaf as any more would be potentially lethal to the mage attempting the process but because of this the process takes a month instead of a few days. The leaf destabilises the prospective Animagus enough to imbue the leaf with some of the mage's own magic and to render their magic and body ready to accept the transformation and to retain it as a permanent change." Harry was glad he had already set his quill up to record the Professor's lecture as he leaned forward eagerly at her explanation. He did recall Professor Sprout's lesson on the Mandrake's but Professor McGonagall had a way of teaching that drew him in and he found his mind racing at the potential of what the Mandrake's disruptive magic could be used for beyond killing and the Animagus ritual, although that also interested him even with the mention of all the side effects.

"The Animagus transformation requires an expert knowledge of human transfiguration, something we cover in your NEWT years, but it is an example of human transfiguration which you can study the theory of safely in the classroom unlike other applications of the subject. Now can anyone remember the formula for animate-to-animate transfigurations?"

Harry flipped through his textbook to the correct page and brushed his fingers along the paper but most of his attention was on the previously mentioned Animagus transformation and he wondered what it would be like to become an animal, to soar over mountains or gallop over hills. He spent the rest of the lesson thinking about it and pondering what creature he would turn into if he did attempt the process.

Harry began to doubt the advice of Castamir when the entrance to the Divination classroom turned out to be a trapdoor in the ceiling of the East tower. He stood leaning against the stone wall along with the rest of the dozen students who had chosen the elective and was somewhat shocked when the hatch swung open and a metal ladder extended down indicating they should ascend. Harry gestured for Neville to go ahead of him as their classmates climbed the ladder, it was difficult enough with a bag slung over your shoulder but Harry had to juggle his cane and his bag before he could even attempt the ascent.

"You going for a pirate look there mate?" Neville asked as he offered a hand to help him stand at the top of the ladder and nodded to his belt where he had slipped his cane for the climb.

"You're a real comedian Nev." Harry grunted as he accepted the Gryffindor's hand and stepped into the classroom proper as the hatch closed firmly behind him.

The classroom took up all of the space the top of tower could provide, one half of the curved stone wall was lined shelves that held a variety of odd items and velvet pouches while the other half had twelve tall tapestries that Harry couldn't discern the details of but each one gave off a vibration in his sight, a wavering haze that he had only seen once before when Castamir had demonstrated casting runestones for divining the purpose of a particularly dangerous enchanted ring, hidden among the innocent protective enchantments an obscure curse had been placed. The middle of the room held a dozen small tables each with a pair of wooden chairs tucked in.

"Welcome. Please come in, take a seat." The slightly scratchy voice came from the far side of the room where the end of the shelves met the last tapestry and where a short figure stood watching them. She wore large round glasses, rings on every finger and bangles on her arms that clinked against each other as she moved. Her magic was odd, a silvery grey cloud that hovered within her, small strands of it constantly broke away to float in the air where they formed strange shapes as they dissipated. "Welcome my children. In this class we shall be exploring the noble art of Divination. I am Professor Trelawney, and together we shall cast our minds out into the world. I will endeavour to teach you how to peer through the mists of time, to see the past, the present and even the future. I doubt any of you have been blessed with the Sight, but even without it you can do much with the techniques we will cover. We will begin with reading tea leaves, closer to the Winter Break I will instruct you on how to use crystal balls as foci. After that dream interpretation and perhaps some rune stone reading."

There were a few muttered scoffs from around the room as various students expressed their disbelief at the statements, Harry might well have been one of them if he hadn't had a long discussion with Castamir about the subject. While Divination was seen as a "woolly" subject by many British magicals, in Europe and the so-called 'Old World' it was still highly respected. Castamir had studied Divination at Durmstrang and while he didn't possess the Sight, he could still use rune stones and even performed Capnomancy a few times which had been strange to walk in on. Castamir used a small metal brazier for reading smoke trails and it kicked out a surprising amount of heat, the workshop would quickly become sweltering when the enchanter was utilising the divination technique for particularly difficult projects.

The tea leaf reading went poorly. In hindsight it made sense, the first lesson of any subject rarely went well but Harry was still disappointed. Neville hadn't been able to see much in Harry's teacup beyond some damp brown debris that vaguely looked like a crescent moon if he squinted and Harry couldn't tell anything at all from the Gryffindor's cup, his Fulgomancy didn't work well on small details and he could barely tell that there were dregs in the cup let alone discern a shape to them.

He tried not to let his annoyance carry into his next lesson but when his glass of water exploded into an icy mess on the desk, he couldn't hide his frustration as he reversed his overzealous attempt at the freezing charm. It was still a better showing than most of the class, although Terry had managed to coat his glass in a thick layer of frost. It was doubly embarrassing for him because he had cast a variant of this spell in his first year successfully.

Professor Flitwick was doing his usual rounds, walking between the desks and offering advice or encouragement where it was needed, he didn't say anything to Harry as he passed him. But he did squeeze his shoulder gently. It was enough. The silent reassurance, Professor Flitwick offered no advice because Harry didn't need it, not really. He just needed to calm himself and let the magic flow without doubting himself.

"Glacius"

The reformed and repaired glass of water changed in an instant. The glass cracked ever so slightly from the sudden change in temperature as a thin layer of icy mist surrounded it, dropping it to sub-zero temperatures in a single breath.

"Five points to Ravenclaw." He heard whispered from behind him as Professor Flitwick offered a subtle nod as he continued his walk around the room.

Harry smiled proudly as Terry clapped him on the back and congratulated him. He might night be able to read tea leaves, but this he could do.

END

Chapter Text

Authors Notes

Hello All! I'm sorry for the delay again, I'm struggling balancing this and work and I acknowledge that I am beginning to slip on my once a month updates. I will try to do better in the future though! This chapter was tricky to write, I wanted to get a balance and show that although Harry definitely has prodigious skill, he's not going to master every spell in a matter of minutes. So please let me know what you think!

Chapter 25

“Professor Lupin tells me you wish to learn the Patronus Charm?” Professor Flitwick asked, though the question was clearly rhetoric. He studied Harry over the rim of his goblet as they sat across from each other in the Charms Master’s office, both enjoying the comfort of the cushioned armchairs and the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth.

Harry nodded rather than vocalising his desire to learn the spell, the mention of it also dragged memories of the demon he encountered on the train and he couldn’t completely disguise the tremor in his hand as he lifted his cup of tea for a sip. If Flitwick noticed the slip he didn’t comment, only drinking deeply from his goblet and letting the comfortable silence continue for a few minutes.

“The Patronus Charm has a very narrow field of use, Harry.” Flitwick began as he turned his gaze to the fire for a moment. “It is also extraordinarily difficult to cast with any degree of success, as such it is usually only taught to Seventh Year Charms students, and of those very few are able to produce much more than a wisp of light.”

Harry didn’t say anything, but something in his expression must have betrayed his rebellious thoughts as Flitwick sighed heavily.

“You are extraordinarily talented Harry, I do not say this because I do not believe you capable of summoning a Patronus. I just want to impress upon you how difficult this endeavour will be. There are Aurors who cannot cast this spell properly, it requires a great deal of focus and effort to even manage the lesser shield form of the spell.”

“I know it will be difficult Professor, I’ve read about it in the Library. Most books barely mention it, one author said it was ‘an almost impossible to cast spell that isn’t needed anymore because the Ministry controls the Dementors it can repel’. But even if it takes me years, I just … I don’t want to go through that again. They’re h-horrible.” Harry drew in a rattling breath as he tried to force the memory of the monster from his mind.

“Ah that sounds like Wilbert Slinkhard, yes he is a rather odious man. His grandfather fought in the war against Grindelwald in Europe, he earned an Order of Merlin for his efforts. Wilbert and his father unfortunately have not inherited their ancestor’s bravery nor his skill with a wand. Neither of them has ever written anything worth reading, I would advise you to ignore their words. But I digress, I have discussed your request with Professor Lupin and we have agreed that he would be the better teacher for this particular spell.”

“Really? Couldn’t you teach me the charm Professor?” Harry asked confusedly. He didn’t have a problem with the Defence teacher instructing him in the spell, but he was used to Flitwick’s methods, and the man was a Charm’s Master, surely he was best suited to teach an advanced charm.

“Expecto Patronum.” Flitwick waved his wand in a quick circle above his head and from its tip burst a spectral eagle, enormous wings spread wide as it soared over their heads. Lines of purest white light made up its form, and a gentle mist of white light drifted from it in Harry’s sight. “While I can cast the spell, I am by no means an expert on it. It is part of an esoteric branch of magic that interacts with the soul and I have never had an inclination to study such things. Professor Lupin is both an expert on Defensive magic and he has some experience with the branch of Animus magics that may help him in teaching you this particular spell.” The summoned eagle landed softly on the back of Flitwick’s chair and dissipated into a cloud of loose particles that collapsed and drifted across the room as the spell faded.

“Now tell me how have your electives been? You have already had a Divination lesson, yes?” Flitwick asked excitedly as the remains of his spell slowly disappeared in Harry’s sight.

“Well I don’t think I can read tea leaves…”

Ancient Runes turned out to be 80% memorisation to begin with, which seemed to disappoint much of the class. Any plans of breaking curses or placing enchantments on things were quickly quashed by Professor Babbling’s opening speech.

“Many of you will have chosen this elective after hearing stories of Curse Breaker’s and Warder’s, how they can disarm magical traps and create powerful enchantments to defend against creatures and dark wizards.” Professor Babbling shook her head and pointed to one of the chalkboards that lined the walls of the room, Harry couldn’t tell what was on it at first but a moment later lines of energy crawled across the surface of the board. The lines formed strange symbols, each one glowing with a dull red light until the board was covered in them. “These are Heiroglyph’s, this is one of the most effective Runic Alphabet’s we know of for channelling and anchoring magic. There are over 800 of these symbols, some are simple phonetic characters that correspond to a sound, but most have deeper meanings. Before going anywhere near even the least guarded tomb in Egypt, you need to know all of them and their meanings. No cheat sheets or dictionaries will save you if you trigger a curse in one of those tombs.” As the witch dropped her hand, the glowing symbols faded until once again they were invisible in Harry’s sight.

Despite this warning, and Professor Babbling’s promise that they wouldn’t be using any magic with the Younger Futhark runes they were studying, Harry remained excited for each lesson. He had explained to Professor Babbling that while he couldn’t see the symbols, he could feel them if they were engraved or raised on the page and showed her the copy of Spellman’s Syllabary he had brought in from his bookcase at home. She had been impressed with the copy and, after he demonstrated that he could correctly identify the runes she pointed to in the pages, had left him to it as most runes were carved into their mediums for permanency anyway.

After a lesson spent on identifying the lesser meanings of Ur, the rune for iron and rain, it was also one of the Futhark runes that existed in Elder Futhark, though there it symbolised strength and resilience, Harry was jolted from his musings on the class by his name being called from the end of the corridor. A quick check in his awareness showed that it was Professor Lupin who had called for him, his magic was easily recognisable amidst the smaller and less vibrant colours of his classmates. He made his way through the crowd until he reached the Defence teacher and followed him as he walked around the corner in the direction of the Defence classroom.

“I understand Professor Flitwick spoke with you?” Lupin opened the door to the classroom and gestured for Harry to enter. “He has agreed that I should instruct you in the Patronus Charm as best I can, that is if you still want to proceed?”

“Yes, I know it’s difficult to cast, but I need to try.” Harry dropped his bag onto a chair and leaned against a desk as Lupin made his way to the front of the room. The Defence professor sighed and nodded before he gestured with his wand and a heavy chest scraped across the floor, coming to a stop in the middle of the space between the teacher’s desk and the first row of student’s desks.

“Very well. The Patronus Charm is deceptively simple in its description. There is no wand movement, the incantation is Expecto Patronum. Emphasise the ‘o’ and the ‘um’ like this EXPECT-O PATRON-UM. Give it a try.”

Harry repeated the incantation as best he could but he didn’t draw his wand, he had been warned by Professor Flitwick that even speaking the wrong words while holding a wand could cause chaotic results, especially if the wielder was emotional at the time.

“A little more emphasis on the ‘-o’ next time but it should be fine. Now for most spells you only need to hold the form or shape of the spell in your mind, which is to say imagine what you want to happen and will it to do so. However, the Patronus is not so simple, it was created to fight off the darkest of magic’s and it requires both immense willpower and, for want of a better word, fuel for the charm to work. While the spell is mostly used to defend against Dementors, in ancient history it was recorded to be effective against other evils that thankfully are all bound or broken now.” Professor Lupin seemed to perk up as he explained the purpose and history of the spell, clearly in his element. “But I think its most common use is the one you are interested in. To successfully cast the Patronus Charm, you need to think on a happy memory. Like I said, deceptively simple. This memory can’t be just a happy day where you did well on a test or something Harry. It needs to be true, pure happiness. The Patronus, when cast correctly, forms a barrier between you and the Dementor made of that which the Dementor cannot touch. It’s antithesis.”

“So the key to the spell is a happy memory?” Harry mused as he tried to think back on his happiest memories. There were several to choose from, his birthdays with Petunia or the first Christmas with Professor Flitwick, Castamir, Moody and Percival came to mind immediately.

“It sounds simple but it needs to be a powerful memory, it needs to resonate with your very soul to be able to bring joy to you even when faced with a Dementor’s fetid breath. You have experienced the aura of decay they are surrounded by, can you think of a memory that could keep you happy while standing before one again?” Lupin’s words crashed over him like a bucket of ice-water. Nothing could make him happy next to one of those demons, they were monsters in the truest sense of the word.

“Is there no other way to repel them?” He asked with a vain hope, though he already knew the answer from his research in the Library.

“I am sorry Harry, no. They consume magic in almost every form, the only other spells which affect them are truly monstrous things. Like can effect like, beyond the Patronus there are some Dark Magic’s which can harm Dementors or even cajole them into doing your bidding. But they require an evil heart and a broken soul. The cost is not worth it, I promise you that. Are you still sure you want to go ahead with the lessons?” Harry let out a little sigh as he turned the choice he faced over in his mind. He could give up, rely on someone else to protect him if he faced a Dementor again. Or he could knuckle down and spend as long as it took to learn this spell.

“Okay, so should I just try casting the spell here?” He asked as he pulled his wand from its holster beneath his armpit and gripped it firmly. Lupin seemed unsurprised by his response and simply shook his head softly.

“No, no it won’t do you any good just speaking the words. You need to face that which you fear to truly know what memory will work. So, choose a memory, remember it as best you can, let it fill you. When you are ready let me know.”

Harry frowned as he wondered how he would face his fears in the classroom but pushed the thought away as he focussed on selecting a memory to use for the spell. It needed to be powerful. Powerful and happy. He spent several moments recalling times when he was at his happiest and eventually settled on his first meeting with Professor Flitwick. Learning he was a wizard was certainly a happy memory.

He nodded to Professor Lupin and raised his wand as he did his best to immerse himself in the memory, picturing the Charms Master’s magic as it flowed around the living room when he demonstrated magic for the first time. Lupin stepped back behind the chest and waved a hand across the front of it, an echoing rattle and then a heavy click sounded and the lid swung open. The room dropped to a frigid temperature and Harry felt the hairs on his arms rise as a dark figure rose from the depths of the trunk.

A swirling hungry void leered from beneath a tattered hood as the Dementor drew in rattling breath, the air around it pulsed with shadow as it drew in the very colour from the room, leaving only pale grey in its wake. It moved slowly, rising from the chest until it hovered a few feet in the air and leaned forward to loom over Harry.

“Ex-Expecto…” The words died in his mouth as the memory he had chosen fled from his mind, replaced almost instantly by the feeling of his hand burning like it had in his first year, the pain of venom coursing through his blood in his second, and the shadowy figure that so reminded him of those that terrified him as a child.

He didn’t remember passing out, but when he came to the chest was closed and Professor Lupin was holding a broken piece of chocolate under his nose, the rich sweetness filling his senses. His hand clenched tightly around his wand and he was grateful that it hadn’t fallen from his grip at least.

“Wha – How did you trap a Dementor?” Harry asked as he pulled himself upright and accepted the treat from Lupin who rocked back on his heels and chuckled darkly.

“That wasn’t a Dementor Harry.” Lupin pointed at the innocent looking trunk. “That was a Boggart. I kept it after the lessons, thought it might come in handy. Unlike a Dementor, it is fairly easy to contain a Boggart. In fact they’re usually happy enough to be kept locked up somewhere cold and dark so long as they aren’t near other people.”

Harry slumped slightly, he hadn’t even faced a real Dementor and he’d still failed miserably. As if reading his thoughts, Lupin patted him gently on the shoulder and sighed softly.

“Harry, I am not surprised you didn’t manage to cast the spell on your first try. In fact, I would be worried if you had, not only are you trying to learn a post-NEWT level spell, you are doing so as a third year. I doubt even the Headmaster would have been able to do better.” The words were a balm for Harry’s wounded pride and he realised he was being arrogant, he had expected the spell to come easily to him as many other charms did, but he was no stranger to practicing spells. It had taken him the better part of a year to produce any results with some of the spells he had learned, and that was with no instructor.

He grabbed the lip of one of the desks and lifted himself onto his feet, his left hand reached for his cane instinctively and he smiled briefly at it’s comforting warmth. He shook his head and lifted his hand, his wand trembled slightly but he ignored it as he faced the chest again.

“Hold on. What memory did you try last time?” Lupin asked as he crossed the room to stand beside the locked trunk.

“When I received my Hogwarts letter and Professor Flitwick showed me magic for the first time.”

“A good memory, but not powerful enough if the Boggart was able to push it from your mind so quickly. So think again, really dig down for something that fills you with warmth Harry.”

Harry tried to think of a memory that made him happier than finding out he was a wizard. It wasn’t an easy task, although he had lived a relatively comfortable life, he hadn’t experienced all that many moments where he felt only happiness. He focussed on how he had felt when he first cast magic with his wand, the thrill of warmth and the pride he had known at being able to use magic for himself.

“Ready? Here we go…” Lupin unlocked the chest and the demonic form rose once again, and Harry did his best to face it.

The extra lessons with Professor Lupin weren’t Harry’s least favourite, despite his continued failures. That honour went to Divination. Professor Trelawney was … eccentric. She could be oblivious to the classroom at one moment, studying a crystal ball or a deck of cards at her desk, and then suddenly she would appear across the room and spend several excruciating minutes asking questions about what a random student had eaten for breakfast, or if they had noticed any oddly shaped clouds that day. For the first four lessons she had mostly ignored Harry’s presence in the class, barely glancing his way as they did their best to discern the hidden meanings of the dregs of their teacups.

Sadly, their fifth lesson meant they were moving on from Tasseomancy and onto Crystal Gazing. Harry had hoped that he would have more luck with this method of divining information and the future, but as he sat opposite Neville with the orb between them, that hope vanished quickly. Much like the tealeaves, Harry could see the crystal ball in his sight, but he couldn’t look inside it as the rest of the class could. His awareness of the orb ended as his magic brushed against it’s glassy surface, if it was hollow or much smaller he might have been able to push his magic into it, but it was solid crystal and rebuffed his attempts with ease.

“Having some difficulty boys?” The dreamy and slightly rasping voice shocked him from his attempts to peer into the sphere’s depths, Neville was so surprised he half-jumped from his seat and it was only Professor Trelawney’s perfectly placed hands that kept the ball from falling from the table. “What do you see when you look into the ball?”

“Erm…” Neville shot a nervous look Harry’s way before he leaned closer and peered into the returned crystal ball. He leaned close enough that Harry thought his nose would push the ball over again, but eventually he slumped back in defeat and shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry Professor, I just see clouds in there.”

“Well of course you do, you’re looking with those.” Trelawney gestured to Neville’s wide eyes with a ring encrusted hand. “You need to look with everything else. It is called the Inner Eye for a reason Mr Longbottom. Now, try again but don’t look for anything in the ball, let the visions come to you.”

Neville blinked twice but at the Professor’s urging he turned and leaned closer to the crystal orb again, this time he looked less focussed and a little more relaxed as his face slackened slightly. Harry sat silently and awkwardly as he tried his best not to fidget in case he distracted the Gryffindor.

“Well?” Trelawney asked expectedly when Neville blinked and moved his head back several minutes later.

“I … I think I just saw clouds again.” Harry did his best to disguise his snort as a cough as Professor Trelawney sighed and shook her head at Neville’s pinking face.

“Keep trying Mr Longbottom. Now Mr Potter, your turn I think?” She turned to Harry and he nodded with a defeated sigh as he settled into his seat and faced the crystal ball. He knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything so instead he sat quietly and did his best to keep his breathing even. He didn’t notice it at first but as he took slow breaths in, his magic coiled and built beneath his skin. On each exhale the magic drifted free of his body and sat twisting around him. He had spent so many hours practicing the technique Flitwick had taught him that it came naturally anytime he breathed in a similar manner.

As his emerald magic drifted about him like smoke he felt himself relax, his mind calmed as he let his worries about the Dementors and Black and the Patronus fade from his thoughts. Only the next breath mattered.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Clouds.

Out.

Screams.

In.

Cold.

Out.

PAIN.

Harry jolted in his seat, pushing the crystal ball away as he did his best to claw breath into his lungs. At some point his magic had kept moving even when his breathing had stopped. He could feel sweat dripping down his neck and behind his glasses his eyes, or what was left of them, stung. His hand clenched and he felt a dull itching feeling in his palm.

“What did you see boy?” Trelawney asked from beside the table, her voice had lost its dreamy quality and was all rasp and roughness as she reached out a trembling hand for him. “What did your Inner Eye reveal?”

Harry shook his head as he struggled to keep what he had felt and experienced in his mind but he could feel it slipping, like the brief moment of awareness after awakening from a dream. He opened his mouth but the memory faded completely and although he knew he had seen something, he couldn’t recall what it was. He closed his mouth quickly when the Divination Professor leaned closer and he caught a whiff of her breath, he had smelt something similar on Marge’s breath several years previous after she drank most of a bottle of Sherry after Christmas Dinner.

“A pity.” Trelawney muttered disappointedly as she stepped back from their table. “You held it longer than most, but you do not possess the Gift it seems. It is not a surprise, very few can truly peer through the mists of Time. But with practice you should still be able to use the lesser practices to divine information, any with magic and patience can do so.”

 “You okay Harry?” Neville whispered as Trelawney walked away to talk with an eager looking Lavender Brown about something she had seen in her crystal ball. “You turned real pale for a minute there mate.”

“Yeah I’m alright Nev, think maybe the incense got to me or something.” Harry did his best to assuage his friend’s concerns and by the end of the lesson the Gryffindor seemed convinced, though he did offer to walk him to the Hospital Wing if Harry changed his mind.

Harry struggled through the Potions class that afternoon and, thanks mostly to Terry’s Potioneering skill, managed to produce a passable Dreamless Sleep draught. Snape sneered silently when they handed it over but, apart from some calculating looks from the Potions Master when Malfoy avoided Harry like the plague, didn’t seem to pay any undue attention to Harry or Terry thankfully.

That evening Harry dictated a letter and made a quick trip to the Owlery, he had some questions about Divination and Ancient Runes and he hadn’t heard from Castamir in over a week. He hoped the enchanter wasn’t in any danger helping Moody with tracking Black, surely Castamir wouldn’t be all that much help chasing an escaped prisoner anyway. Would he?

The remnants of Dunnottar Castle sat on a crumbling clifftop and were often surrounded by tourists come to take in the spectacle of the still regal ruins. Or at least during the warmer summer months they were. As winter approached and the wind and rains from the North Sea crashed against the cliffside, pelting the already weathered stone walls with a never-ending bone-chilling assault. The other reason for the lack of visitors to the ruins were the rumours of a wild animal that had been spotted prowling the Castle, the descriptions varied but all agreed it was big, with black fur and unnaturally glowing amber eyes.

CRACK

“Merlin’s arse why don’t you apparate louder, I don’t think Aberdeen quite heard you lass!” Moody shouted above the whistling wind and the percussive beat of the rain striking the stone around them. His companion didn’t deign to reply, focussing most of her attention on staying upright in the face of the storm that seemed to be fighting to carry her away with it.

“Are you a witch or not?” Moody bellowed as he slammed his staff into the ground. The wind and rain lessened, and his greying hair stopped whipping around his head as the spell he cast blocked the worst of the weather’s effects.

“Come now Alastor, the poor girl is as likely to lose her wand as cast a spell with it in this wind.” Castamir said as he appeared near silently beside the young woman who sagged in relief when flicked his own wand and sheltered them both. “Now why have you called me up here? I know I agreed to help you find Black, but the Goblins look poorly on those that rush out of negotiations every other day.”

“He was spotted near here in Dufftown and there have been potential Werewolf sightings in the area. I don’t believe in coincidences. ” Moody grunted as his enchanted eye rotated to scan their surroundings warily.

“Werewolf sightings? You think Black has recruited Greyback?” Castamir raised his wand and grabbed the young auror’s shoulder when she moved to step forward towards the ruins.

“Oi gerroff.”

“Tonks!” Moody barked angrily. “He ain’t copping a feel for fucks sake, look at the grass in front of you.”

The female auror, Tonks, turned her attention to the ground, illuminated by the full moon above them, where she had been about to step, and her short hair flashed from black to a deep crimson briefly as she recognised the heavy imprint on the slick grass. A large pawprint, too large for any normal canine, was still visible in the compressed grass and mud, though the depression was quickly filling with rainwater.

“Shit…sorry guv, sorry Cas.” Tonks mumbled embarrassedly as she stepped back carefully and looked at the ground more carefully for more signs of life.

“Eyes on a swivel Auror.” Moody instructed as he led the way closer to the ruined Castle, carefully stepping around loose stones and puddles that could hide traps.

They were within a few feet of what was left of the outermost wall of the keep when they all froze in place. In the distance, barely audible over the storm, a bestial howl echoed, the sound carrying across the cliffs and shaking the broken stones enough that several smaller pieces fell with a clatter. As the echoes faded Moody was the first to act, quickly swiping his wand through the air with one hand and stabbing his staff into the pliable mud with his other. His two companions were only fractionally slower, both turning to face the direction the noise had come from with wands at the ready, peering into the dark as they tried to pick out any movement.

They stood silently and warily at alert for several long minutes, the spells that held the rain and wind from them faded but none risked casting again and potentially giving away their location. So they stood waiting. Cold. Wet. Focussed. After an indeterminable amount of time Moody relaxed his stance and turned his head to look in his trainee’s direction, his hand drooping slightly as he let his attention shift.

“It’s gone.” He stated grumpily. The three of them were sodden and quickly retreated to shelter from the weather beneath an overhand from one of the more sturdy sections of the Castle.

“Was it Greyback?” Castamir asked as he waved his wand and dried the three of them in an instant. “If it was then he’s on Belby’s brew, no way one of them turns from hunting three humans without it.”

“I’m not sure.” Moody grumbled as he leaned against the worn stone wall and sighed. “It was the right size, and it got close … maybe a hundred feet away afore it turned and left. But it doesn’t sit right with me. Greyback should still be in Albania, if he was here there’d be signs.”

“So it might not have been a werewolf? Or it was someone on Wolfsbane and they just left?” Tonks asked curiously as she rubbed her arms to warm them and poked her head around the corner to glance out into the dark again.

“It wasn’t human, that’s all I can tell you. Even this has it’s limits.” Moody gestured to his enchanted eye. “But now we’re closer I can tell ya that Black ain’t here, not now anyway.” The eye swivelled in a full circle as he inspected the surroundings carefully. “Theres some scratches on some of the walls deeper in but they look like animals, maybe whatever that was out there left them. No traces of magic besides what we’ve left though.”

“So no closer to Black then?” Castamir summed up.

“Aye alright, best you get back to Gringotts. I’ll let you know if we get anymore leads.” The grizzled Auror waved Castamir off and the enchanter disappeared with a soft crack. “Come on rookie, you need to spend some more time practicing your awareness.”

Both Aurors followed Castamir’s lead and disapparated, one leaving with a much louder sound than the other.

It was several hours later when the enormous coal-black dog risked padding back along the cliff to shelter from the ongoing rain in the ruins. He had almost walked right into the Aurors, and had only caught wind of Moody just in time. The old man had a very distinct scent but the wind and rain had disguised it until he got too close for comfort. Padfoot had debated approaching Moody and trying to explain, he knew him to be a decent man if a little irritable, but the risk was too great. In his prime he might have been able to give Moody a run for his money, but after so long in that infernal prison he was a shadow of his former self.

His tongue lolled out and he let out a low bark as he lapped at a mostly clean puddle just outside the collapsed wall he had used as a resting place for the past few nights. At least he was closer to the school now, he thought. He would watch for a few more days and then risk slipping in through one of the old passages, the one under Honeydukes or the boar statue perhaps.

He had made a promise to James and Lily. He would protect their son. He had failed for thirteen years. He wouldn’t fail them any longer.

END

Chapter Text

Author's Notes

Hello All! I hope everyone had a good Easter. This was a tricky chapter for me, lot's I wanted to include but after editing several versions I settled on this as the best of a rough bunch. I hope you enjoy it and let me know if I missed anything or made mistakes. As always please leave a Comment or Kudos if you like the story and chapter!

Reviews

griffin blackwood - Thank you, I'm glad you liked it!

littleemberlou - Thank you for your patience! I'm glad you like it, I agree that Moody probably would have hexed (or cursed) first and asked questions later (or never) but Sirius isn't in his right mind after a dozen years in Azkaban so you will have to forgive him his hopeful delusions!

spicyanimechick - I hope this one lives up to your expectations!

Guest - The first three years definitely follow the canon more, but I promise the rest of this year and then fourth year and onwards will diverge more and more. Little ripples lead to large waves.

Chapter 26

Rain lashed against the old stone walls as the Great Hall filled with excited students gorged on breakfast in preparation for the Quidditch match that afternoon. The weather was enough to make Harry wish he hadn't agreed to attend the game, but Susan was insistent that all of them show support for Hufflepuff.

"I'm only doing this because I want the Lion's to lose, I'm burning this damn thing after that." Terry grumbled as he picked at the yellow scarf he had been forced to wear.

"You'll do no such thing. That's mine and I'm generously lending it to you." Susan growled as she pointed her fork in Terry's direction aggressively. "You'll clean it and return it neatly folded."

"Alright calm down…"Terry mumbled as he slumped in his seat, elbowing Harry as he chuckled at his friend's defeat.

"I think you look good, Boot." Cedric Diggory's genial laugh sounded from behind Terry as the Hufflepuff Captain and Seeker walked past the group. "And I love the badger Luna."

"Thank you Cedric." Luna smiled broadly as she did her best to eat a bacon sandwich without losing the precariously balanced badger head she had created that perched on top of her own head.

"Y-yes thank you Cedric." Susan stammered as she waved at the Hufflepuff Prefect.

"Ooh is that why we have to support the Puff team then? Cos pretty boy Diggory is the Captain?" Terry asked, Susan's blush gave him a burst of fresh confidence but it faded quickly when the red-head pulled her wand out threateningly.

"We should make a move if we want to get decent seats." Harry said in an attempt to placate the two. Hannah and Luna helpfully stood and nudged Susan to move as well and the moment of tension thankfully dissipated.

The walk down to the stadium was fraught with near misses as several students slipped on the slick cobble path, Harry did his best not to slow the group but none showed any care that they were slowly being overtaken by many of their classmates. The first Quidditch match of the year always drew a large crowd, even with the foul weather the school was out in force. Harry doubted there was anyone left in the Castle besides Madam Pince, the Librarian never left her charges.

The stairs within each of the stands were thankfully enchanted to repel water so the climb up to the seats was much better than the walk down had been. Unfortunately, the open seats were not enchanted in this way and the heavy downpour had already soaked the wooden benches, but a little magic worked wonders and Harry quickly had a section of the bench warm and dry for them to sit on.

Harry still couldn't encompass the entirety of the Quidditch pitch with his sight, but with some effort he could expand it to cover almost all of it. Oddly the rain seemed to make it easier as he brushed against the drops falling from the clouds above, he thought he could probably reach the bottoms of the clouds with his sight if he really tried. But he could observe enough to enjoy the match and that was plenty, it strained his concentration to be aware of such a large space with so much going on within it.

"I don't know how they can fly in this, let alone hold a Quaffle at the same time." Terry half-shouted as he did his best to cover his eyes from the stinging rain. The storm had only grown more vicious since the start of the match and the wind threatened to tear the banners free of the stands filled with cheering students.

"A few of them have charms on their goggles to help, but it's certainly impressive." Harry replied as he struggled to resist the urge to draw his wand and use it to repel the rain and wind. Spells weren't allowed to be cast during a match in case of interference, if he was seen with his wand out he'd likely be lynched by the Hufflepuff's or Gryffindors.

"Oh oh I think they've seen the Snitch!" Susan pointed in the direction of two figures flying down the pitch, weaving between Chaser's, and circling one of the hoops on the Gryffindor end of the field. Harry could just about detect a tiny glint of magic and wings leading the two Seeker's on a merry chase, but it was hard to keep track of with so many things moving through the space.

"I wonder if Diggory will be able to catch it before Bell." Terry mused as the pair of Seeker's split to avoid a heavy Bludger and then resumed their chase. "She's a great Chaser and she's small and light enough for a Seeker, but Diggory has the experience and reach."

"Cedric will definitely beat Bell, he's the best Seeker Hogwarts has seen in years." Hannah stated defiantly as she stood with Susan and cheered, the Hufflepuff Keeper had saved another goal, though only just.

"Maybe I heard- oh wow they're really going up there?" Terry cut himself off in disbelief as both Seekers climbed higher and higher until both disappeared from Harry's awareness and quickly from the view of others going by the muttering of the crowd.

Thunder rolled across the sky as the rain grew even colder and harsher, the North Sea had birthed a truly monstrous storm for the match and Harry kept a tight grip on his cane as the wind tried to carry it away. He couldn't think of much worse than being stuck in the sky in this kind of weather, he didn't even want to be outside let alone several hundred feet in the air. With the Seekers out of view, most of the crowd focussed on the Chasers as they fought for possession of the Quaffle.

"Damn Wood is just unreal, did you see that catch? How did he stay on his broom!" Hannah sounded conflicted between annoyance at the opponent Keeper and impressed with his skill.

"He's definitely better than Fleet, Diggory needs to catch the Snitch or the Puff's are screwed." Terry had no such conflict and grinned broadly at Hannah and Susan's angered faces.

"I'm not sure why they're still up there, I'm pretty sure the Snitch is down by the commentator's box at the moment." Harry pointed with his free hand towards the flicker of magic he could sense hovering just above Jordan Lee's head.

"Wha-" Terry and Susan whipped their head's towards the Gryffindor commentator even as the older boy seemed to notice the tricky winged ball.

"OI BELL GET BACK DOWN HERE! THE SNITCH IS IN FRONT OF ME NOT IN THE CLOUDS – IGNORE THAT CEDRIC JUST JOKING!" Lee Jordan's magically enhanced voice echoed throughout the stadium and a large swathe of the Hufflepuff supporters shouted and jeered at the Gryffindor commentator.

"Oh I think they're coming back down, they must have heard Jordan." Susan pointed up into the sky and Harry strained his focus to shift his awareness to include more of the air above the stadium. He couldn't stretch his sight far enough to include the Seekers but as they were flying down he should at least be able to see them soon.

"Er Susie I don't think that's Cedric…" Terry muttered as he stood and leaned forward, hand raised to shield his eyes as best he could from the rain that stung any exposed skin it could reach.

"What do you – oh no!" For a moment Harry couldn't tell what the others had seen, he feared someone had fallen from their broom and drew his wand as he desperately thought of spells to help catch someone falling a hundred feet. But the first figure to appear in his awareness wasn't one of the two Seekers. It wasn't even a human. Patchwork limbs of screaming magic and a hungry void in place of a head, all wreathed in a miasma of frigid agony and terror. Soon it was followed by another. And another. Dozens of the demonic creatures descended like an unholy army from above. Dementors come to feed.

They were more than seventy feet above the stadium but they were floating down quickly, drawn in by the veritable feast presented to them. A piercing scream sounded from the sky above and a slim figure appeared in the midst of the swarm, falling between the creatures was one of the Seekers, grazing the Dementors and slowing as it passed each one and they drew deeply from it.

And then the figure was past the Dementors, hurtling towards the ground without a broom or way to slow their fall.

Harry didn't know whether it would work, but he pointed his wand and summoned as much focus and magic as he could.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

His magic thrummed, a thundering rush as he forced it into the familiar shape of the Levitation Charm, but he had never tried to cast it across such a distance or on something moving so fast before. His emerald light surrounded the falling body and latched onto the robes they wore, bleeding off the momentum as he fought against the sudden weight bearing down on his magic. He felt lightheaded and his sight retracted, shrinking as he focussed his entirety on the spell.

Meters from the sodden grass the robes his spell had latched onto finally tore, the weight he had forced them to hold proving too much and the body fell to hit the ground with a wet splash. Harry slumped and let the spell fade. He was glad, and somewhat surprised, the robes hadn't given way sooner, but then Quidditch robes were likely armoured and padded to help with Bludger hits he supposed.

As his awareness expanded again his jaw dropped at the blazing inferno of magic that burned in the middle of the stadium. A winged creature made of white light shone like a small sun, waves of radiant light burst from it and each wave pushed the Dementors back, forcing them up and away from the stadium. It was a spectacle of magic he had never seen the like of before and the faint lines of purple and black that drifted from the Phoenix's wings like foxfire solidified his belief that their Headmaster was a terrifyingly powerful wizard. The Patronus' fury was palpable as an angry cry sounded from it's glowing beak, the sound doing what the last waves of light couldn't and banishing the Dementors back to the sky.

Harry accepted the mug of steaming hot chocolate with a grateful nod as Professor McGonagall moved back to her own seat. It was his first time in the Transfiguration Mistress' office and he found it suited the Head of Gryffindor's stern but kind demeanour. The fireplace was large and filled the room with a comforting warmth, the chairs were simple but homely, no needless extravagance. There was only one bookcase, though it did sag from the weight of the thick tomes stacked upon it, and one cabinet filled with picture frames and in pride of place at the front the previous year's Quidditch Cup sat.

"Miss Bell will need some time in the Hospital Wing for her exposure to the Dementors and to treat her broken shoulder, but for a girl who fell over a hundred feet she will recover remarkably quickly." Professor McGonagall sipped from a glass and peered at him with a small smile. "Your actions were not missed. Fifty points to Ravenclaw for superb spellwork, had you not caught Miss Bell one of the faculty would have needed to and we were sadly preoccupied with the incursion. It is very likely she would have suffered worse injuries, you should be proud of yourself Mr Potter."

"What about the rest of the school? The other players? The Dementors … they got close to the stands." Harry didn't dare voice his concern, he had read of the dreaded 'Kiss' when he researched the Dementors. It was a cruel fate to befall anyone, to lose your soul, the very essence that makes you who you are. To have it mangled and torn, until there was nothing left but fuel for the Dementors cruel existence.

"There are some cases of dangerous exposure, most of the Quidditch players will be in Poppy's care for several days, but the Dementors were repelled before anyone could be Kissed. The Castle Wards have been raised to keep them out for now and Professor Dumbledore has gone to the Ministry to try and talk some sense into the Minister." McGonagall's expression spoke volumes as to how she thought that would go.

"Couldn't you keep the Wards up to keep the Dementors out all year?" Harry knew some of the basics on Warding from his talks with Pervical and the Cursebreaker had mentioned on more than one occasion that Hogwart's protective enchantments were some of the strongest and oldest in the world, moreso even than the Ministry's defences.

"Sadly no, while the Castle's enchantments can keep out almost any force they are not without drawbacks. To keep the Wards up we must restrict access to the school, no owls can leave or enter, even the Floo is blocked. As it is, tonight we will have to keep a careful watch to make sure no students try to sneak out, or any fools from Hogsmeade venture too close. Anything that attempts to cross the Castle boundaries will meet with a grisly end." Harry gulped at the Deputy Headmistress' words and yet a small part of his mind couldn't help but wonder what he would see if he were to approach the dangerously powerful wards.

"Oh I suppose that makes sense, I'm sure the Headmaster would have already tried that if it wasn't so dangerous to us." Harry reasoned as he put his, now empty, cup aside and did his best to smother the yawn that threatened to erupt. Professor McGonagall had pulled him from the Ravenclaw common room a few hours after they had been herded into their House dormitories and he had worried he was going to be punished for something at first.

"Indeed." She smiled softly at him and gestured towards the door with a sigh. "I can see the day has exhausted you so I will let you go, but thank you again Harry. Without your efforts today I might have lost one of my Lions."

Harry nodded sheepishly and made his way to the door with a wave and mumbled goodbye. He hadn't done all that much in his mind, it was a first-year spell after all. He stepped through the door and as it closed, he missed the stern Transfiguration Mistress's sad glance in the direction of the photo cabinet, her eyes fixing on one picture in particular where a pretty red-headed girl and a tall dark haired boy stood posing with their Head badges proudly displayed on their robes.

The British Ministry of Magic had one entrance for visitors, a nondescript phone booth in central London, a series of fireplaces in the atrium for Floo travel and an Apparition point, also in the atrium. These three points were designed to converge in the atrium so any visitors would have to pass the security checkpoint where their identity could be confirmed and logged for security. However over the years other, less well known, entrances were created. The Minister for Magic in 1868 was a rather paranoid fellow and instructed the Department of Mysteries to create a secret escape route for him, this entrance could supposedly only be opened from within the Minister's office and led to an undisclosed location along the Underground railway. The Department of Mysteries used their carte blanche directive from the Minister to create several other secret entrances to the Ministry, though most were discovered and closed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement over the following decades when knowledge of them spread.

Albus Dumbledore could have used any of these entrances, he knew of two hidden entryways that the Department of Mysteries still maintained, but his anger at the events of the Quidditch match and the Minister's continued attempts to avoid him were enough to convince him that a reminder was in order. The events of the past few years individually could be disregarded as coincidence, but when taken together they led him to two irrefutable conclusions. First, Tom Riddle Jr was returning to power. Slowly but surely the whispers of missing people in Albania had made their way to Dumbledore's ears and the sheer number of them was enough to concern him, there were many foul rituals that required the spilling of blood but there were far less that required the vast quantity that had disappeared. Over forty from Albania alone, Romania and Bulgaria had also reported a dozen young women missing that Albus suspected were related.

It was the second truth that caused Albus Dumbledore, Transfiguration Master, Defeater of Grindelwald and last Apprentice of Nicolas Flamel, to apparate through the wards that covered the Ministry. People had forgotten who he was. Peacetime had given figures like Lucius Malfoy and Tiberius Nott time to gather strength, and they had deluded themselves into thinking they were untouchable. That the doddering old Headmaster was past his prime, no threat to them. A demonstration was needed.

So Albus apparated from his office, forgoing Fawkes' offer to transport him. Contrary to popular belief, there were multiple techniques that could be used to perform apparition, the most common involved forcing one's physical body through space to travel across great distances very quickly. This method was the easiest to learn, it had limits on the distance a person could travel and could also be blocked easily as space could be enchanted to be unbendable which made apparating through it very difficult. However Albus and Gellert had discovered another method many years ago, much more difficult and exceedingly dangerous, it required him to force his body to break apart while using his magic to keep his collective essence intact. If done correctly there were nearly no limits to how far he could travel as he was no longer forcing his physical form through space, instead he could just move his magic and that required far less effort, although any slip in concentration could result in him losing control of his essence and losing himself amidst the magic that flowed constantly across the world. It required a level of skill and focus that few could muster, and even fewer would be willing to risk the potential outcome should their attention lapse. But Albus Dumbledore was never one to let fear hold him back, so he wrenched the fabric of reality and tore into the space above central London. He had to spend several long minutes discorporated as he carefully weaved between the various enchantments that protected the Ministry, slowly moving closer to his target, but he had breached Gellert Grindelwald's protections many times and they were far superior to these. He had been told by the always polite Miss Goldbloom, Fudge's receptionist, that the Minister would be in meetings for the rest of the day. As he pushed through the last of the wards and began to gather himself, he could tell that his suspicions had been correct.

Albus Dumbledore appeared with a thunderous CRACK in the doorway of the Minister's office and smiled pleasantly at the startled and stunned occupants. Cornelius Fudge sat behind his desk, pale and damp from the whiskey he had just spilled across himself at the sudden noise. Lucius Malfoy had half stood and his wand was drawn from it's cane-sheath, his reactions had not dulled since the war, but at seeing who had appeared so suddenly he too had paled slightly and lowered his wand, though he did keep it firmly in his grip. Dolores Umbridge had actually fallen from her chair at the sound and was embarrassedly righting herself, her face flushed and angry. The final occupant of the room was the calmest, Tiberius Nott, a short man with a barrel-chest and balding head, had remained seated and took a sip of his own whiskey. Nott's dark eyes were fixed on Dumbledore and his left hand was resting comfortably on the arm of the chair, hiding the wand he kept tucked up his sleeve but ready to draw it if necessary.

"A-Albus w-what are you doing?" Fudge stuttered as he dabbed at his face with a handkerchief, partly to wipe away the whiskey and partly to dab at the sweat beading upon his forehead.

"My apologies Cornelius, I had intended to apparate into the Atrium but my attention must have lapsed, old age and all that." Albus's smile shifted to a colder, harder expression as he stepped forward. "However, thanks to this fortunate accident I suppose now we can have that meeting I requested. About the Dementor incursion during the Quidditch match earlier today?"

"We were just discussing that very event Dumbledore, Tiberius here came up with a very logical explanation for the whole … debacle." Fudge coughed awkwardly at the Headmaster's piercing stare and gestured to his companion to explain.

"The Dementors were given strict orders to only hunt for Black. He must have been at the stadium during the match and the Dementors approached to apprehend him." Nott's voice was smooth and his tone polite, but Albus had dealt with the man before and knew him to be a dangerous opponent. "Of course you cannot be blamed for preventing them from capturing Black, Headmaster, you only did what you thought necessary to protect your students. An admirable reaction, if perhaps misguided."

It was a clever explanation, it shifted any blame from the Ministry and could even be used to disparage Albus as interfering in the hunt for Black. It was exactly the sort of political finesse that he had come to expect from Nott and Malfoy, the two were a dangerous foe when allied.

"Ah, I see. And you have some evidence of Sirius Black's presence at the match?" Albus had spent several decades dealing with the Wizengamot, he could also be a formidable political animal when needed. "No? In that case I am sure that the Prophet will not be reporting on such unsubstantiated rumours in tomorrow's edition."

Nott didn't react but Malfoy frowned, he had been intending to leak the story to Cuffe at the Prophet to besmirch Dumbledore and shift the blame further from the Minister. Fudge was a useful tool so long as he was handled properly, donations and assistance with the media was a part of that.

"N-no of course Albus, just a-a theory is all." Fudge finished mopping his face and settled for fidgeting with the sodden handkerchief, twisting the silk between his fingers nervously.

"Good. Now as for the Dementors, clearly they are not suited for guarding a school. Does this not explain why I have pushed for them to be returned to Azkaban, Cornelius? The Aurors are more than capable of finding Black." Albus felt a brief moment of hope but the false simpering that came from his left quashed that hope.

"I'm terribly sorry Headmaster, I must have misunderstood, but surely you aren't advising the Minister for Magic to stop hunting for a dangerous criminal?" Madam Umbridge's sickly sweet voice dripped like poison in the ear and Fudge straightened at her words, the sycophant feeding his ego and steeling his spine.

"Dolores is right Albus, I can't be seen standing down the Dementors with Black still at large. No I will pull half of them away to search the rest of Scotland, but you will keep the other thirteen to guard the castle." Fudge looked determined, much of his previous nervousness gone as his allies nodded along to his words.

"Very wise Minister." Tiberius stood and bowed in Fudge's direction before turning to the doorway. "Now if you will excuse me, I have a meeting at Gringotts I must attend to. Good evening Minister."

Nott walked up to Dumbledore and paused momentarily as the Headmaster eyed him seriously, his eyes lacking their distinctive twinkle more reminiscent of cold ice than their usual sky blue. The moment ended and Albus stepped aside with a genial smile to let the shorter wizard pass.

"In that case I must leave as well, the school wards are currently raised and I would hate for any young fools to test the old castle's defences." Dumbledore dipped his head respectfully to Fudge and then turned, not to face the door but in a full circle as he gathered his magic and disapparated.

His body disappeared with another deafening CRACK but he forced his awareness to linger, it was an incredibly difficult technique and not one he used often but it was possible to halt the apparition process, usually it was used as he had earlier to circumvent enchantments but it could also be used for reconnaissance. It took supreme force of will to hold one's awareness in place after the initial discorporation but it was possible. So he waited, his essence hovering just beneath the enchantments that would prevent such surveillance normally.

Tiberius did indeed leave, making his way towards the atrium, but Lucius and Umbridge lingered. Both seemed keen to talk in private with the Minister, and neither seemed happy the other had remained.

"Madam Umbridge I have some private matters I need to discuss with the Minister, if you would be so kind as to give us the room?" Lucius asked, his words polite but his tone was cold and the request was clearly not optional.

"Of course Mr Malfoy," Dolores stood and smoothed out her pink knitted skirt. "I'll be just outside if you need anything Minister." Umbridge stepped out of the room and closed the door carefully behind her, but she didn't move away. She stood waiting, listening for any morsels of information she could use. It irked Dumbledore that he was essentially doing the same, if with much greater flair, but he pushed that aside to focus on the inhabitants of the room. He needed more information on the relationship between the Malfoy patriarch and the Minister. He needed to know how far Cornelius had fallen into Lucius' thrall.

"Professor McGonagall told me about what happened at the Quidditch match." Professor Lupin made no movement to leave his seat and the heavy trunk that housed the Boggart was still in the corner of the classroom where it was kept when he wasn't practicing, so Harry settled into one of the seats at the front of the room. "Very impressive, to catch a falling body without causing damage by stopping them too quickly or slowly is not an easy task. And with a basic levitation charm as well."

"I shouldn't have used the Levitation charm really." Harry couldn't help the correction from escaping his lips but he had spent the past days going over his reaction to the sight of Katie Bell falling and he knew of two other ways he could have slowed her fall that would have worked better, maybe even preventing her from breaking her collarbone and arm but certainly they would have stopped her robes from tearing and flashing her underwear at the thankfully distracted crowds. "I could have used the Immobilising Charm to stop her for a few seconds, or the Slowing Charm would have been even better but I didn't think. I just…"

"Reacted. You reacted, and you did so quickly enough to save a girl's life Harry. Hindsight is useful for learning from our choices, and perhaps you could have given Miss Bell a softer landing, but you saved her life and that is enough." Lupin leaned backward with a small smirk. "Professor McGonagall also mentioned that you have been avoiding her after she mentioned Miss Bell wanted to thank you in person?"

Harry couldn't help the embarrassed blush that coloured his cheeks and was once again grateful for the tinted glasses that obscured much of upper face, Bell was still in the Hospital Wing but was due to be released the next morning and Professor McGonagall had insisted he visit her before then. He had avoided doing so, mostly because he didn't want to deal with the needless gratitude but also because he didn't want to see the injuries he could have prevented. Should have prevented.

"You look so much like your father sometimes that I forget how different you are." Professor Lupin remarked suddenly. "James was never one to shy away from praise, but then he was also much more likely to be leaving dungbombs in the Quidditch changing rooms than to save one of the players. In his earlier years anyway, he matured a great deal after his parents passed."

"Were you friends with him at school then?" Harry asked eagerly, the Defence Professor hadn't mentioned his parents much after their first meeting and he couldn't help but be curious about them.

"I was close with your father yes, and your mother once we were in our last years here, but I shared a dorm with James and we became good friends early on. He was a great man. I won't lie to you, he had flaws, but he always tried to do good, to protect his loved ones and those who couldn't defend themselves." A shadow seemed to pass over Lupin's face as the man sighed and shook his head. "But we can talk more about him later, I take it you are still keen to practice?"

Harry nodded, though he resolved to bring up his parents again at the end of the tutoring session, and drew his wand as Lupin summoned the heavy trunk across the room and took his usual position behind it. He faced the Boggart six times, each time settling on a different memory to fuel the spell, and each time he failed to produce even a wisp of light. By the end he was exhausted and was sent on his way by Lupin to rest, he only remembered his desire to ask about his parents once he was in bed and by then could do little but groan in annoyance and exhaustion as sleep claimed him.

END

Chapter Text

Authors Notes 

I AM ALIVE! I apologise profusely to everyone who has been waiting for an update on this. I had some health problems that knocked me out for a few weeks and then I had to spend some time catching up on work, sadly this story had to take the backseat.  

Due to this, I have decided I will have to adjust my release schedule, I don’t want to agree to a monthly release if I can’t stick to it so I will now be releasing a chapter every two months with potential additional releases if and when I can manage them.  

As always please Favourite, Follow, leave a Kudos and Review/Comment if you like the story and chapter. They really mean a lot and I love reading them, they helped a lot when I struggled to get the impetus to finish this chapter.  

Chapter 27 

Harry managed to avoid her for almost a month, an impressive feat considering she dragged the Weasley Twins into it after the second week. They had an uncanny ability to find him no matter where he hid himself. This led to a very tired Harry spending much of his time in the Ravenclaw Common Room when he wasn’t weaving through the hidden passageways he had found to get to and from his classes.   

His luck ran out on Halloween though, it seemed the day was fated to always be an unfortunate one for the last Potter. He had just finished an interesting Charms lesson on mind-effecting charms, from the innocent Cheering Charm to the far more sinister Melancholia Charm which could induce near suicidal depression if used incorrectly, and was plotting his route back to the Common Room when he noticed a now familiar presence at the edge of his awareness.   

Fred Weasley’s energetic blue was hiding around the corner that led to the portrait of Egbert the Egregious and the hidden passageway he guarded. The portrait was a particularly grim one, the wizard it housed would mutter threats of extreme violence to most who walked by, but Harry had noticed a strange vibration to the stone blocks it covered and after a few attempts had found the passageway that led to the fifth floor on the other side of the castle.   

However, Harry had grown cunning during his game of cat and mouse with the three Gryffindors, and he had a backup plan ready. He didn’t let his pace falter as he tapped Terry on the arm and tilted his head to the right.   

“Wha- oh come on, why don’t you just talk to the girl? Poor Nev hasn’t been able to sleep he’s terrified the Twins are planning to hold him hostage or something.” Terry complained as he let himself be guided through the throng of students until they reached one of the many suits of armour that littered the school, this one held a shield and sword in its limp metal hands.   

“At this point it’s more a point of principle really.” Harry answered absently as he nudged the shield a fraction with his cane while pushing the sword to the right with his other hand. A satisfying creak sounded from the alcove behind the armour and while the wall didn’t visibly change, Harry stepped through it confidently all the same. “The Twins have some way to locate me, doesn’t matter where I hide, so now it comes down to who knows the castle better.”   

Harry ran his hand along the worn stone of the wall and felt a comforting warmth from the carved blocks, the Weasley Twins might have been at the school longer but Harry was confident he knew some of her secrets that even they hadn’t discovered. Hogwarts was a living thing, the twisting corridors and constantly shifting staircases were a part of her rhythms and with enough patience Harry was certain he could learn to predict the seemingly random changes.  

“A contest with the Twins? Rather you than me, but I still don’t get why you won’t talk to Bell? She just wants to say thank you, you did save her life mate.” Terry asked exasperatedly from behind him.   

The corridor ended with a tapestry depicting some kind of duel from the middle ages, Harry couldn’t make out much of the detail but Terry had described it to him the first time they used the passage. Harry brushed it aside and stepped through into the disused corridor on the second floor, it was eerily quiet in this part of the castle. Alchemy classes had been held here up until almost twenty years ago but the elective had a reputation for being exceedingly difficult and eventually the class was dropped from the curriculum as no student had passed the exam with more than an Acceptable in years by that time.   

The first sign something was wrong that Harry noticed was that Terry didn’t follow him out of the passageway. Then he spotted a gossamer thin thread of magic down the corridor on his left. It could have been a coincidence. The school was full of strands of magic that drifted on invisible currents, most spells left some sort of trace as he had seen in his classes. But this corridor was abandoned, it hadn’t held a class in years and while some students might have practiced magic here, the bright yellow magic was familiar to him. George Weasley had been down here, which meant he needed to go the other way.   

In hindsight, he should have recognised the trap at that point. He had been guided expertly, steered to an out of the way corner of the castle with only two ways out.   

The footsteps behind him prompted him to pick up his pace a touch, forgoing the use of his cane and risking the fall that usually accompanied such action, he hurried down the corridor and for a brief moment he had hope as he heard the bustle of the Grand Staircase up ahead.   

The hope was extinguished when a lithe figure stepped into the corridor, blocking his route to the staircase and escape. He knew it would be fruitless, but he still spun on the spot and began walking back the way he came. He made it less than a dozen steps before both Twins appeared at the very edge of his awareness blocking his path. He was half-tempted to draw his wand and try forcing them out of his way but quickly abandoned the thought. The Twins had beaten him. He would take his loss with grace.   

“You know, most people don’t take the whole hard to get thing quite so seriously.” Katie called out from behind him. Her voice was soft, there was a confidence to it but he thought he could hear a touch of nervousness underneath that.   

“Ah yes… hello Katie, I think you’ve been looking for me?” He turned slowly to face her with what he hoped was a confident smile on his face. Her warm red and orange magic was almost vibrating across her form as she stepped up to him.    

“Oh you think so do you? And I wonder why I could possibly have been trying to talk to you…” The dark haired Gryffindor smiled sweetly as Harry struggled to come up with a better response than ‘I’m sorry for tearing your robes and making you flash most of the stadium’ .   

He was deeply surprised when she grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug.   

“Erm … I’m sorry for tearing your robes when you … I didn’t mean to …” He stammered as he stood awkwardly.   

“You saved my life Harry, and I doubt anyone was paying all that much attention to what I was wearing under my Quidditch robes what with the Dementors and everything.” She leaned back and pushed him with a small laugh.   

“Well no I .. I suppose not.” Harry nodded, still surprised at the girl. He had expected a small thank you and then maybe a slap for tearing her clothing. He knew a few Slytherin’s had made rude comments about the Seeker after the match and, while none did so in his earshot, he also knew some students had spread the rumour that he had purposefully torn the girl’s robes.   

“By the way, how have you been avoiding the Twins? I’m not sure if they’re more impressed or annoyed about it, but it’s been great watching them get so flustered trying to catch you.”   

“Oh I just kept changing my routes to classes really.” Harry shrugged as Katie scoffed.  

“And the pink hair?”   

“Well…yes sometimes they got a bit close, and I had to scare them off somehow.” Harry admitted as he recalled the charm he had left on the corridor outside the Ravenclaw Tower. The Twins had tried camping out there for him a few days into their contest and he had needed to dissuade them. A few itching hexes and colour-changing charms had convinced them to retreat fairly quickly, though he did have to apologise to a few older Ravenclaw’s who were caught up in the exchange.   

“I was surprised they never got you back for that, took them hours to stop scratching themselves.” Both of them shuddered and Harry couldn’t help the grimace that flashed across his face at the thought. “So saving damsels in distress and pranking older students, eh? You sure you weren’t meant to be in Gryffindor, hero?”  

Harry couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips at the suggestion. He was many things, but brave wasn’t one of them. He found himself in dangerous situations, but he certainly didn’t go looking for them…most of the time.   

“Oh young Harry here is definitely the most Gryffindor-ish Ravenclaw in history,” Fred slung an arm around Harry’s shoulder as George tucked what seemed to be an enchanted piece of parchment into his pocket.   

“Indeed, in fact I think little Harry is really a Gryffindor spying on the Ravenclaw’s.” George nodded wisely and peered in mock suspicion at Harry.   

“By Merlin’s saggy ones, I think you’ve cracked it George!” Fred cried as Harry shrugged his arm off and shook his head at their antics.   

“Well now you know my secret I’ll have to … deal with you.” Harry said in his best attempt at an evil villain’s voice. Judging by Katie’s giggles it wasn’t a very good attempt, but Fred and George recoiled in faux terror nonetheless.   

“Don’t worry fair maiden, we will defend you from this rogue!” Fred shouted as he puffed out his chest.  

“It may cost us a limb or three, but we will defeat this titchy villain-” The rest of George’s cry was swallowed by the shouts and screams that suddenly echoed down the hallway from the Grand Staircase.   

The scream was harrowing, born of sheer dread and Harry barely registered that his feet were moving, stumbling and almost falling twice as his feet caught on unseen obstacles, before he burst from the corridor and almost fell as the staircase he found himself on lurched and began to move. As he heard the shouts from the Twins and Katie, he couldn’t help but recall the Gryffindor Seeker’s words. It was beyond foolish for him to be rushing towards danger, but even though he knew that logically, he couldn’t help himself. If someone were to be hurt and he could have helped them …   

The staircase ground to a halt and Harry could hear a commotion from the corridor ahead of him as he moved forward at a more careful pace, his wand in one hand and his cane in the other as he rounded the corner. The magic he had gathered and the spell he had been forming in his mind slipped as he found himself at the back of a crowd of Gryffindors, and inspecting a portrait at the front of the crowd was the Headmaster. The portrait had been savaged, the canvas was torn and a chunk of the frame splintered leaving it hanging loosely on the wall.   

“What’s happened to the Fat Lady?”  

“Who attacked her?”   

“How are we going to get into the Tower?”   

Questions filled the hallway as Professor McGonagall approached, she sent a questioning glance Harry’s way but didn’t slow as the crowd parted for her and she stepped up to the ruined portrait and the Headmaster. The two had a quick hushed conversation and while there were no visible signs to indicate something of concern, the way both mages’ magic roiled and swelled made it obvious to Harry at least that they were agitated.   

Dumbledore turned and clapped loudly, ushering in silence as the crowd of Gryffindors listened intently to the Headmaster’s words.   

“There has been an attack on the Lady’s portrait. Please follow Professor McGonagall, she will lead you all to the Great Hall while we look for the perpetrator.” The aged wizards words were met with furious whispering as the students theorised who could have attacked the portrait, but one name cropped up repeatedly as McGonagall ushered the crowd along.   

Black.   

It didn’t take long for the story to circulate throughout the student body. Sirius Black had breached the unbreachable. He had snuck into the castle, avoiding every Dementor and Professor. He had only been spotted when he tried to force his way past the guardian of Gryffindor Tower, a portrait referred to as the Fat Lady. The paint and canvas protector had done her duty though, even faced with Black she had refused to let him in. According to the nearby portraits he had been furious and destroyed her portrait before fleeing, even more concerningly none of the ghosts or portraits outside of that corridor had seen any sign of the escaped prisoner. Aurors had been called in and the red-robed investigators had searched the castle and grounds thoroughly, but no trail could be found and none could figure out how the elusive Dark Wizard had entered or exited the castle.   

The number of Dementors patrolling the school borders had been doubled and more Auror patrols had been posted in Hogsmeade, but the atmosphere in the castle had been grim in the following weeks after the attack.   

The Hogsmeade trip had been postponed, originally scheduled to occur the day after Halloween, it had been pushed back to the second week of November instead. The excitement among the students come the morning of the visit was enough to drive off the gloom that had lingered for the previous fortnight and Harry found himself eager to be away as he sat waiting for Terry to finish his breakfast.   

“You should visit the Shrieking Shack, Harry.” Luna announced suddenly as she finished cutting her toast into pentagons and began to spread jam and a pinch of salt over each piece, Harry had doubted the girl’s tastebuds until she made him try one and had been shocked by the odd but delicious flavour.   

“Oh ye’h we shoul’ def’ try tha’” Terry mumbled around his mouthful of sausage and egg, thankfully not spilling any across the rest of the table.   

“You shouldn’t speak with your mouth full, it attracts Nargles.” Harry smirked as Luna arranged her toast pieces into an interesting mosaic that almost resembled a unicorn. Said unicorn’s head was the first loss as the second-year girl took an almost vicious bite from it.   

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for those, thanks Luna.” Terry patted Luna on the arm and shook his head amusedly as the girl hummed happily around the torso of the baked unicorn, fruity blood dripping onto the plate. “Okay I’m done mate, you wanna grab Nev and head down to the courtyard?”   

Harry nodded and gave Luna a one-armed hug as he stood and grabbed his jacket and cane. The two boys made their way to the doors of the Hall and Neville must have spotted them as he met them there, eagerly shrugging on a heavy coat.   

They joined the queue of students waiting to board the carriages, Professor McGonagall and Filch were checking the passes before letting them move on to the rows of Thestral-drawn vehicles. Terry handed his over to the Transfiguration Mistress and Neville nervously handed his over to Filch who sneered but waved the Gryffindor on. Then it was Harry’s turn.  

“Ah … Mr Potter, I should say that I advised the Headmaster against allowing you down to Hogsmeade given the latest developments.” Professor McGonagall said carefully as she took his pass without looking at it. “Your Head of House convinced the Headmaster that you would act responsibly and would contact a teacher if there were any problems. Was he correct?”  

“Yes Professor.” Harry nervously held his hand out for the slip of parchment as the Deputy Headmistress eyed him sternly. Only when she nodded and handed the pass back did he let out a little breath of relief as he stepped past and joined his friends. He barely heard her whispered prayer for him to ‘be safe’.   

“What was that about?” Terry asked as they climbed aboard the closest empty carriage.   

“I don’t know, I’m just glad she let me through.” Harry frowned as the carriage shifted with a lurch and they began their journey down to the village.   

“What time are we meeting the girls at the Three Broomsticks?” Neville asked as he checked his watch. “I want to check out Honeyduke’s and I heard from the twins that the barman at the Hog’s Head will serve you Firewhiskey if you pay him a sickle.”   

Harry shook his head and smiled, he had heard the same rumour but with everything else he had heard about Hogsmeade’s lesser-visited pub it was probably true. However his sip of the drink at Alastor’s Christmas dinner was enough to put him off trying the liquor again for several years.   

“Don’t worry Nev, we’ve got plenty of time. We’re meeting the girls at one, so we can hit the sweetshop for you, Dervish and Banges for Harry and Zonko’s for me.” Terry grinned mischievously at the mention of the joke shop and Harry felt an impromptu shiver run down his spine at the thought of the mayhem his friend could wreak with such supplies.   

It wasn’t Harry’s first time in Hogsmeade, but his previous visit had been fleeting as Castamir had hurried them through the village and up the path to the castle. This time was very different as the trio stepped out of the carriage to a bustling cobble road, it was mostly students exploring the village but there were some adults milling about as well. Harry noticed at least four Aurors patrolling the high street as they walked towards Honeydukes, the smell of sugar and warm chocolate spilled from the door every time someone stepped inside.   

The shop itself was filled confectionary of all kinds, one wall was devoted to boxes of loose sweets that could be scooped up into paper bags, while another was covered in boxes of chocolates with a dizzying variety of flavours. The common sweet treats were all there; Ice Mice, Sugar Quills, Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, but there were some that Harry had never heard of and was loathe to try. Acid Pops, Blood Pops, Cockroach Clusters, Fudge Flies, Jelly Slugs, Shaved Caterpillars, Shrieking Sherbets, Sugared Butterfly Wings, Unchewable Chew Chews and Zebra Hoofs were all available.   

Neville as undeterred by the plethora of choice and seemed very keen to try some of the more exotic sweets, thankfully even he drew the line at Blood Pops. Terry picked up a bundle of Sugar Quills ( now with self-cleaning nibs for when you use them by accident!) and a box of Fudge Flies ( not made with real Flies … anymore) . Harry elected to stick with the classics and picked a box of Chocolate Frogs and Every Flavour Beans. Despite the risk with every bite, he had developed a fondness for the little jelly beans that his friends thought was odd.  

Then it was onto Zonko’s, another packed shop, where Terry spent a worrying amount of time examining the options and filling his arms with tricks before heading to the counter. Neville picked up a bag of Dungbombs, but he assured Harry that they were for testing in the Greenhouses, apparently they contained trace amounts of Dragon manure and Nev thought they could be used as a fertiliser. Harry declined to buy anything at the store much to Terry’s disappointment.  

Finally, they left the joke shop and headed to their last stop before lunch, Dervish & Banges. It was a more understated building than the sweet shop and joke store, a squat building of dark brick and darker wood with an undecorated sign swinging above the door. It was also much quieter than the previous shops they had visited, no other students were inside when Harry and his friends stepped inside and only one wizard, the owner Harry thought, was sat behind the counter.   

The shop reminded Harry a little of the Copper Artifice, it was filled with shelves and tables all piled high with an eclectic collection of items. One table held a book, a gramophone, a pocket watch and a set of spectacles with a third lens above and between the two usual lenses.   

And every item was enchanted.   

When Harry had written to Castamir and mentioned the upcoming Hogsmeade visit, the man had instructed Harry to visit Dervish & Bange’s. He claimed it was owned by one of the best enchanters in Britain, Archibald Bange, and that Harry should meet the man and look around his shop. As always, Harry was glad he had followed his friend’s advice. The items on display were completely different to those in the Copper Artifice, none of these items were cursed or bound by enchantments to restrict their magic. Instead, these items were charmed delicately, the magic softly and gently wrapped around them in dull bronze strands of colour.   

“Oh look a Sneakoscope.” Terry wandered between the tables and poked the miniature glass spinning top with his finger, but it remained still and unmoving, the coloured gem within the glass top glimmered with magic but was unresponsive to the boy’s intrigue.   

“I would have thought it would go off the moment you stepped through the door with all those tricks stuffed in your pockets.” Harry remarked as he stepped around a delicately perched crystal globe and approached a table close to the counter.   

“Oi I’m as trustworthy as they get. I plan to use these for only good and righteous causes.” Terry claimed as he stuck his nose in the air and put on an air of affronted dignity. It was spoiled only slightly by the Sneakoscope slowly rotating with each word until a low whistle escaped the top of it.   

 
“Ha it looks like it definitely works then.” Neville chuckled as Terry took a step away from the noisy table and the Sneakoscope quietened.  

They explored the store for almost an hour, examining the plethora of enchanted trinkets that filled it, before they finally left and set off in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. The pub was at the heart of the village and while it wasn’t the only drinking establishment in the village, it was the most well known and certainly the most welcoming to students.   

As they made their way down the street a familiar hulking figure stepped from around a corner, walking with great loping strides in the direction of the same tavern. If his immense size didn’t immediately identify him, then the rich brown and deep veins of blue magic that suffused his being would.   

“Hagrid!” Harry called as the trio approached the kindly half-giant who spun at the sound of his name.  

“Oh hullo lads, enjoyin’ your firs’ visit to Hogsmeade are ya?” Hagrid smiled broadly and gestured at the bustling village with his arm, nearly knocking a nearby witch over who scowled in their direction and hurried away.   

“Yeah it’s great, we’re just heading to the Three Broomsticks now to get lunch.” Terry neatly pulled Neville to one side to avoid a lamppost he hadn’t spotted as they made their way down the main thoroughfare.   

“Ah well tradition tha’ is, gotta stop in and try Rosie’s Butterbeer on your first Hogsmeade trip.” Hagrid glanced up at the sky and cocked his head to the side for a moment before he nodded. “Well I go’ time for one drink, come on boys. I’ll introduce you t’ Rosmerta, always a good idea to make friendly with the owner of a pub.” Neville nodded wisely at the groundskeeper’s words and Harry noted the advice, Hagrid hadn’t led him astray yet.   

The Three Broomsticks was a wide and slightly lopsided building, wooden beams and old bricks held it up with the help of a great many enchantments that Harry could see woven deeply into the mortar and nails. It was busy inside with tables full of students and other patrons, and a long bar ran down the length of the western wall with stools set up in front of it. Behind the bar were shelves stacked high with glass bottles in a plethora of shapes and sizes, and below those were a series of barrels and kegs ready to be tapped. A roaring fireplace opposite the bar kept the cold at bay, in fact just stepping inside Harry could feel a bead of sweat start to grow on his neck at the sudden change in temperature.   

Several of the older patrons at the bar and tables greeted Hagrid with a wave or nod, though a few scowled and grumbled as he manoeuvred his bulk between the bar and tables until he reached an empty spot. Harry hurried to follow the man’s wake, dragging Neville and Terry with him until they reached the bar where Hagrid was already greeting the witch behind the bar.   

“Ah Rosie, this ‘ere is Harry, Neville and Terry, good lads all o’ them.” Hagrid patted Harry gently on the back, though the force of it still pressed his chest into the bar painfully. “Three Butterbeers an’ my usual please.”   

“Three Butterbeers and a quart of ale coming up.” Madam Rosmerta smiled as she tapped the countertop and three glass bottles along with one enormous tankard drifted up from beneath the wooden bar to settle in front of her. “I’ll put it on your tab Hagrid, and it looks like your little friends already have a table for you.” The smiling witch pointed behind them and Harry quickly focussed his awareness on the area as Terry and Neville span to look in the direction she meant. Hidden amongst the bustling tables in the far corner, Susan, Hannah and Hermione were all sat waiting for them with their own drinks and a platter of sandwiches.   

Hagrid joined them at the table for a short while, though he had to stand as there was no room for his bulk, before he finished his drink and had to leave citing ‘Gamekeeper bus’ness’ as the reason. The Butterbeer was creamy and refreshing and the sandwiches warm and filling. It was a moment of relaxed peace and Harry was grateful for it as he laughed at Susan threatening Terry if he used any of his newly-bought pranks near her.   

The Hog’s Head Inn was a stark contrast from the warm and inviting Three Broomsticks. Though both were centuries old and built with the same stone and lumber, the resulting buildings were like night and day. While the Three Broomsticks welcomed witches and wizards of all classes, there were times during its past when Goblins, Werewolves, Fae-bloods and other minorities were less than welcome. During these times the outcasts and fearful found sanctuary in the Hog’s Head Inn where they could find shelter, warm food and cheap drink without worry of Auror’s or Hit Wizard’s harassing them.   

This policy of offering shelter to all who sought it continued and it became a haven for those who preferred the quiet atmosphere or wished to avoid the masses who frequented the Three Broomsticks. While some hoping to avoid the law made use of the tavern, it was still mostly used by those who might face scorn or derision in the more popular establishments.   

The barkeep and owner was an older man, though he stood slightly hunched he was still taller than most and his thick grey beard covered much of his weathered face. A pair of steely blue-grey eyes were the most notable feature on the man and the cold confidence in them was enough to keep the peace in the bar on most occasions. Decades of work lifting and carrying heavy barrels had given the man broad shoulders and strong arms, age had claimed some of their strength but enough remained to give him an intimidating bulk.   

Intimidating until compared with a half-giant at least. As when Hagrid stepped through the door, the barkeep seemed almost small next to the groundskeeper who stopped at the bar and ducked his head to avoid the dusty grey chandelier that hung from the ceiling casting dull orange light across the bar.   

“Af’ernoon Abe, how’s bus’ness?” Hagrid asked as he cast a look down the bar at the only other patron, a hooded figure slumped and snoring softly with an empty glass in front of him.   

“Slow.” The one-word reply rumbled from the barkeep’s barrel chest like stone grinding on stone. Harsh and deep.   

“Aye I s’pose Dementors’ll do that.” Hagrid nodded solemnly, not bothering to hide the grimace that the mention of the creatures caused to flash across his face. His short tenure at Azkaban had been truly hellish, cut off from any warmth, the barren island housed no life beyond the miserable prisoners and the even more miserable wardens. Hagrid patted his left pocket and raised his voice a fraction. “You got a quie’ room I can sit in, Abe? Got a new pouch of Old Toby an’ I don’ wanna stink up yer bar.”  

“Aye. Upstairs, first door on the left. Open a window or you’ll be banned for a month.” The barkeep grunted but there was no real bite to his words as he gestured for Hagrid to head through the door to the right of the bar.  

“Much obliged Abe, an’ I’ll take a little tipple with me I think.” Hagrid dropped a Galleon on the bar and collected a tall bottle of amber liquid with a nod as he made his way over to and through the door, he had to crouch to avoid taking the top of the doorframe off but otherwise made his way up the creaky stairs without issue.  

The landing opened up to three doors, all closed, a cracked mirror sat opposite the stairs and beneath it a slightly wonky dresser. Hagrid ignored the cloudy mirror and opened the first door on the left, shifting his bulk to block the view inside the room to anyone who might have followed him and closing it quickly behind him.  

“Ah hello Hagrid, thank you for joining us on such short notice. I apologise for interrupting your day off.” Albus Dumbledore greeted the Gamekeeper from the corner of the room, the venerable Headmaster was sat in a chintzy purple armchair that looked jarringly out of place compared to the dusty straight-backed wooden chairs that the other inhabitants of the room were seated in.  

“S’no problem Pr’fessor, Keeper o’ Keys is never off duty anyway.”  

Albus smiled at the half-giants words and turned to the others in the room, an eclectic collection of wizards and witches but each was well familiar with one another in one way or another. Sat in the other corner of the room, facing the door was Alastor Moody, one hand holding his gnarled stave, ready for trouble, and the other a glass of softly sparking crimson liquor.  

To his left was the new Defence Professor, Remus Lupin, who had both hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee and looked exhausted with heavy bags under his eyes, but those same eyes were clear and observed the room with keen intelligence.  

Next to him, not seated but leaning against the wall, was a younger witch wearing the signature white robes of a Healer. Hestia Jones was known as something of a prodigy within St Mungo’s, having moved through her apprenticeship there in record time and graduating to a full Healer in only a year. She smiled at Hagrid as he leaned carefully against the wall opposite her which creaked ominously but held.  

“Well now that you are here Hagrid, I will begin. Unsettling news has reached me, by way of Alastor here, that Fenrir Greyback has returned to our shores after being chased into Europe not so long ago.” A low rumbling, akin to thunder or a landslide filled the room as Hagrid straightened and clenched his fists, the bottle of whiskey creaked and then shattered under the strain spilling amber liquid across the floorboards.  

“I share your sentiments, Hagrid, as do the others here I am sure.” Albus flicked his fingers absently at the spilled drink, vanishing it and the glass shards that accompanied it, before continuing. “I have warned Cornelius and he has, reluctantly, agreed to raise Hadrian’s Wards for the time being. We know that Greyback crossed the North Sea from Ringkobing in Denmark, we believe he swam across until he reached the town of Eyemouth.”  

“’Ow do we know he’s ‘ere Pr’fessor? Was he spotted by someone?” Hagrid asked as he settled back against the wall with a frown.  

“You could say that.” Alastor chuckled grimly.  

“Laugh at that poor woman again and I’ll leave you to rot next time you walk into a Cutting Curse.” Hestia glared at the Auror who dipped his head in a non-verbal apology. “To answer your question Hagrid, it seems Greyback had some ... frustration to work out after his trip across the North Sea. He tore through two houses and killed both families. A muggle woman walking her dog saw him leaving the second house and he savaged her before he left the town. She ... didn’t survive the wounds but she was brought to St Mungo’s and she gave a statement and her memory before she passed.”  

“Bu’ the full moon was a fortnight ago, why we only hearin’ about this now?”  

“He only made landfall yesterday in the early hours of the morning, Hagrid. He wasn’t transformed.” Remus explained gently, though his eyes were cold as he turned his gaze down to the mug he held. “He’s been experimenting with potions, he still believes he can transform without a full moon. He wasn’t under the influence of the moon when he killed them, he just did it because he wanted to.”  

“Indeed.” Albus sighed heavily and removed his half-moon spectacles to polish them on a handkerchief. “With Hadrian’s Wards raised, he can’t go south but I doubt he would have anyway. I believe he will travel north, to find Sirius Black and ally with him. Greyback was always low in Tom’s ranks, a brute hammer rather than a scalpel. He needs direction. Sirius, for all his faults, could never be accused of being unintelligent. We have cut off any reinforcements he might have sought from the south, but even alone Greyback is a foe beyond most.”  

They sat in silence for a long moment. The thought of Fenrir Greyback, the Beast of Britain, working alongside Sirius Black, the Devil’s Right Hand, was sobering and chilling in equal measure. One had spent the better part of three decades carving a bloody path across Britain and Europe, killing and infecting with abandon. The other had killed several of the more senior Death Eater’s and duelled Voldemort himself, all to sell his cover while secretly working as the Dark Lord’s spy. Dozens of witnesses had stepped forward at the end of the war to state that they had seen the Heir of House Black working closely with Lord Voldemort. That they had been tortured by him.  

“I have already checked the Hogwarts Grounds for any sign of intrusion, and I will be tightening the security around the Castle until the two are captured. Hestia has some experience with treating curse wounds and has contacts among the Muggle hospitals, she will alert us if any attacks are reported that match either of their descriptions.” The Headmaster replaced his now gleaming spectacles and peered at them all over them. “I would implore all of you, reach out to those you trust, we must be ready. If things continue after the Winter Break, I will have no choice but to reform the Order, and we are still greatly weakened after our losses. If you have any suggestions for candidates to invite to our group, pass them onto myself or Alastor. In the meantime -”  

His words were drowned out by the shouts and screams that echoed from outside the pub, drifting through the windows. Only a few words were understandable, but those few were enough to shock the room into movement.  

“RUN .... DEMENTORS! .... BLACK!”  

END  

Chapter Text

A/N

Another chapter out, I hope you all like it. This one was tough to write, I scrapped several drafts because they didn’t come out right but this was the best of them.

Please continue to leave Reviews and Comments, they really mean a lot and give me the drive to keep writing!

Reviews

Andy – Wow thank you, I’ve read Blindness a looong time ago and I remember it being very good so that is a huge compliment!

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JFuzz2364 – Thank you very much! Yes I took a lot of inspiration from Netflix’ Daredevil series for Harry’s magic sight, the visuals for Daredevil’s abilities in that show are hugely underrated.

Gracfully – I'm hoping this chapter gets three smiley faces!

Chapter 28

It was a risk to enter Hogsmeade for Sirius Black, even in his canine form. Enchantments to force an Animagus out of their transformation were rare and expensive, the ability was so scarce that most did not see it as a worthwhile investment, but it was always possible one of the shops or houses would have one and he would be spotted.

However, after weeks of surviving on rainwater and scraps he could steal from bins or the odd rodent he could catch and eat (which he found darkly satisfying), he had decided the risk was worth the potential rewards. While food was a definite bonus, his real aim was to uncover information. He had tried to reach little Harry on Halloween, planning to sneak into the Gryffindor Dormitories and leave a note on his bed explaining as much as he could. It hadn’t been his finest moment when the Fat Lady had refused him entry, even when he used the old Head Boy password that James had shared with him in Seventh Year.

In his anger he had lashed out, ripping the enchanted canvas apart before fleeing when the other portraits raised hell at the ruckus. He had escaped the castle and wards, just, but it had cost him days of travel across the Highlands to shake the Dementors off his tail.

Only later had he discovered that even if he had broken into the Gryffindor rooms successfully, he would have missed Harry anyway. The pup was in Ravenclaw somehow, despite having parents whose blood ran red and gold through and through. But then, he supposed the boy wouldn’t have grown up knowing them, not after that night.

It took him several minutes to shake himself free of those dark thoughts, and he found himself deeper in the village than he had intended to venture when he lifted his shaggy head and looked around. While he was a monstrously large dog when transformed, his years of near starvation had left him much reduced in size, enough that if he kept hunched and slightly crouched, he merely looked like a large thin hound.  When he caught his own reflection in the window of Gladrags he couldn’t help but snort, long gone was the bear-like dog that could wrestle with a werewolf.

He stuck to the side streets, slipping down the narrow gaps between houses and shops until he reached his intended destination. Brixton’s Butcher’s was an older shop, just a few buildings down from the Hog’s Head Inn. The owner, a corpulent man who looked like he ate more than he sold, would often throw the scraps from the previous day’s work out behind his building for the stray cats and dogs to feed on. It was also close to Griff’s Apothecary, the owner of which was a notorious gossip. Two birds, one stone.

He reached the back of the butchershop just in time to scare off a large orange cat from what seemed to be a mostly unspoiled chicken. He might not be of a size to square off with a werewolf anymore, but a cat was certainly doable. It took only a low rumble of his chest to deter the feline and leave him with the slightly dirty chicken carcass. He picked it up in his jaws and trotted to the corner facing the Apothecary where he sat down in the shadow of the building and waited, his ears perked up and listening for anything of interest.

He learned a few things as the morning progressed, but none were of any use to him. Though it was amusing to hear that someone had started complaining about the Shrieking Shack again, either a werewolf was using it again or actual ghosts had taken up residence in the ramshackle building. Either way it tickled him, and fond memories of nights spent in the shack threatened to overwhelm him for several long minutes before he was dragged from nostalgia by a violent shiver that wracked his weak frame.

He exhaled heavily and watched with trepidation as a foggy cloud escaped his jaws, slipping around the fowl he still held. While they were deep into Autumn, he knew the cold wasn’t natural. Already he could hear the whispers at the edges of his mind, feel the chill that stole the vigour from his limbs, he could even smell the decaying flesh they hid beneath tattered cloaks.

Ice began to form quickly across the cobblestones and already he could hear people slipping and crying out. He stood with a low huff and slipped softly back the way he had come, he had become adept at squeezing through the thinnest of gaps between houses and quickly reached the end of the street where the Hog’s Head stood, the final building before Hogsmeade ended and the southern edges of the Forbidden Forest began.

He had almost reached the first of the trees and some fragile cover from the demonic prison guards when he heard the first scream. He couldn’t help but look over his shoulder and glance back towards the village. He froze as soon as he did. It couldn’t be. She was long dead but there, cowering from the Dementors he could see her again. Marlene.

He was moving before he realised it. Sprinting back towards the village, he had transformed mid-step and was already close enough that the two other girls had spotted him. He could see the realisation dawn on them as he approached, legs pumping furiously until he was only a dozen meters away.

“OI!” He hollered as he came to a stop and waved his arms. The hooded figures hovering around the trio of girls twisted and turned to face him, deep rattling breaths escaped from beneath their cloaks as they stretched rotted limbs towards him.

“Come and have a go if you think you’re ‘ard enough!” He was quite proud of the look of shocked bewilderment on all three girls faces as the Dementors ignored them and started to float closer. There were four of them, more than enough to turn the surrounding area into a premature winterscape as ice hardened across the cobblestones.

The pride melted in the face of the four monstrous wardens as they drifted closer with malevolent intent oozing from them. He jabbed his stolen wand at the cobblestones and ripped a wide section of the street up to block their approach before he spun and sprinted back towards the forest’s edge. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that his makeshift obstacle had only slowed them for a moment, they were swiftly gliding across the no-man's land between the forest and the village, gaining on him as he stumbled over the uneven ground.

He kept up the run for a solid thirty seconds before he felt far enough from the village to transform. His skill as an Animagus had been the worst of the group when they left Hogwarts, taking him almost ten seconds to transform even at his best. But years of transforming in his cell in Azkaban had lent him a speed and control he had been missing those years at Hogwarts. Now he could shift between his forms in the span of a heartbeat, between one step and the next he was suddenly bounding through the forest at a steady run.

He knew from experience he could keep ahead of the Dementors and as long as he stayed transformed, they would lose his trail eventually. They could ‘smell’ magic and a person’s memories, and used this to track them. However when he transformed, his thoughts, his memories, all became muffled to them. He just needed to gain some ground and get clear of the village before the Aurors arrived.

He was several miles away before he forlornly remembered the chicken he had dropped at the forest’s edge.

Albus Dumbledore appeared with a thunderous crack as he ripped through the anti-apparition wards the Ministry had raised over Hogsmeade in September. His wand was already raised as he stepped towards the crater that now swallowed the end of the street, scattered rubble and sundered earth lay covering the cobbles and three students were huddled against the wall of the last house, dusty and dirty but otherwise they seemed to be unharmed. His sudden arrival prompted one, Angelina Johnson, to draw her own wand and point it in his direction but at the sight of the Headmaster, the fear was somewhat replaced with relief.

In the distance he could see a cluster of Dementors swarming through and above the forest, moving away from the village, but the chill was still present and he could sense another group of the foul creatures deeper in the village behind him.

“Miss Johnson, are you hurt? What happened here?” He stepped closer to the gouge in the street and immediately recognised the magic used, along with the caster. He had seen it used countless times during the Blood War by James, Sirius and even Remus, though usually as a defence against curses not as an attack. By ripping up earth and stone, one could intercept spells and their effects would usually be dampened or blocked entirely. As a defence it was quick and dirty, but undeniably effective against lesser opponents. Why Sirius Black would have used it against three underage students was a mystery though, he could detect no other magic in the air, no other spells were cast to defend against.

“The Dementors sir, they just suddenly appeared around us – well Katie really, and they got so close a-and it got so cold and then suddenly he was here shouting and then there was ... like an explosion or something and we were pushed back a bit and then they were all gone. Into the forest over there I think.” Angelina stuttered and seemed to be in shock but she stumbled over the words quickly as her friends climbed to their feet and approached slowly.

“I see, thank you Miss Johnson. Please make your way to the Hog’s Head Inn, you should find a professor or Auror there waiting for you.” He cast a keen eye across the scene in front of him once more, committing it to memory before he spun and disappeared with another, quieter crack.

With the anti-apparition wards fractured by his initial arrival, it was child's play for him to avoid the tattered strands of enchantment and reappear on the roof of Honeydukes, his dragon-leather boots gripped the tiles firmly and with an assuredness that contrasted greatly with his elderly visage. He raised his wand in preparation as he stared down in mounting horror at the establishment that most considered the heart of Hogsmeade.

The Three Broomsticks was surrounded by cloaked figures clawing at the windows and doors, ice was spreading across the walls and even out away from the building. The groan of timbers straining under the weight of the bricks was audible even to him as the tavern’s enchantments failed in the presence of decay and entropy. Pallid light flickered in the windows but, beyond hisses of revulsion from the demonic prison guards, it was having little effect.

There were at least a dozen of the Dementors that Dumbledore could see, and a quick glance up into the darkening sky revealed a handful more dark specks in the distance moving closer. It was unfortunate, but unsurprising to the experienced mage. Once Dementors started feeding, they fell into a frenzy and attracted more and more of their kind until they could be repelled or, as happened more often, they fed on all that was available.

A few quick calculations ran through Dumbledore’s mind as he drew from the deep wellspring of magic that lay beneath his skin, pale blue and white strands of light gathered around his wand arm as he raised his hand into the air. He lined up his wand tip with the left-most edge of the building as he squinted somewhat and then traced the outline of the pub’s walls in the air, leaving a faint outline hovering where his wandtip passed. When he was finished, he dragged the tip of his wand across until it hovered over the door and with a few small twitches, he sketched the Thurisaz rune.

As he lowered his wand and opened his eyes wider again, the hovering lines of light blurred slightly before settling again, except now they no longer hovered in the air atop the sweet shop. Now they sat like a cage over the Three Broomsticks, blazing pillars of light that burned away the layers of ice and frost. The rune he had sketched was originally the size of the palm of his hand, now it stood as tall as he did and was seared into the wood of the door like a brand.

The aged Headmaster allowed a brief grin to slip onto his face as he scanned the newly placed protective enchantment with a studied eye, a vain part of him was somewhat disappointed no one still lingered outside to witness his manipulation of dimensional magic but he quickly smothered it. It was a trick he had mastered during the war against Gellert and one he was particularly proud of, but it required complex calculations that most could not perform mentally and certainly not at speed.

He was drawn from his inspection and reminiscence when a hissing sound, like drops of water on a fire, emanated from the front of the building followed by an unearthly screech. One of the Dementors had drifted too close to the now protected door and a light similar to that of the Patronus flashed to repel it. The grin was replaced by a frown as he observed the admittedly hasty enchantment he had laid over the building flicker slightly, a combination of the Dementor’s presence and his not having permission from the owner meant the magic would likely not last more than a few minutes. Time he would need to make the most of, he could see no bodies on the ground which was a good sign but it was not unheard of for the presence of Dementors to cause those whose bodies were too frail to give up and pass on to the next life.

He took a steadying breath as he raised his wand again and ignored the chill in the air, the echoes of his sister’s voice that threatened to tear into his carefully ordered mind. Instead, he thought of the Sorting feast, smiling faces looking around with wonder and amazement at the Great Hall as he sat at the Head Table with his friends and colleagues. He had long ago realised that his true purpose in this life was as an educator, as a guardian, not a ruler or warrior, and if one of those sat beside him in this imagined Great Hall looked like a certain white-haired Dark Lord then that was just a quirk of his subconscious.

“Expecto Patronum.”

When he had first cast the Patronus Charm at the tender age of fourteen, the corporeal form had been that of a proud and arrogant lion. A clear sign of his youthful arrogance, though he had seen it only as a symbol of his Gryffindor pride at the time. After Ariana’s death it had taken him several years to muster the appropriate mindset to conjure a patronus again and by then it had changed to the humble Bumblebee, a far more modest creature and yet one he had felt was most appropriate. Only after he had gained Fawkes as a companion and acquired the Elder Wand did his Patronus change to it’s current form.

White light erupted from his wand as a phoenix burst into life in front of him, identical to Fawkes down to the last tailfeather. It took to the air and circled him as it expelled waves of light with every flap of its ethereal wings. He could feel the strain of the spell as he maintained it, even as the Dementors fled the spell’s effects, unable to find purchase on the unassailable concept of love that he built the magic on.

It was an exceedingly deceptive spell, the Patronus Charm. Very few magics could withstand the Dementor’s entropic effect, only those based on fundamental concepts that were anathema to them or those spells which shared a common source with the magic which spawned them in the first place. Many thought of the Patronus as a ‘shield’ against their effects, a source of emotion for the Dementor to feed off instead of the caster. This was a common misunderstanding, and a dangerous one. Dementor’s sought out negative emotions like pain and suffering, grief and hate. They could find no sustenance on positive emotions which is why they elicited the sensation of fear in those around them, the remembering of bad memories was them preparing their food for eating.

The Patronus Charm at it’s core, was a magical construct fuelled by a potent and primal emotion and, like all spells, maintained by the caster’s will. It was remarkably similar in concept to a particularly dangerous piece of dark magic, however the Patronus was limited only by the strength of will and the potency of the emotion, the concept with fuelled it.

Albus Dumbledore was not a perfect man. He knew many who would not even call him a good one. But he had only found himself lacking in will and love once in his life. This day was not that day.

The Dementors fled from his spell, like shadows recoiling from the dawn they scattered across the horizon. Only when the last had disappeared from his vision did he let the spell fade, a relieved sigh escaping him as he relaxed slightly against the chimney he was stood next to.

He only allowed himself a breath to rest before he stepped from the roof, drifting to the ground with a minor exertion of power, and made his way over to the Three Broomsticks. He was only a few steps away when the door exploded outwards in splinters and a hulking figure flew through it.

The first sign that anything was wrong came when one of the pub’s patrons sat beside the window fell off their stool. It drew a laugh from most of the tavern, though Susan was quick to elbow Terry when he guffawed at the older gentleman’s accident and Hermione and Hannah expressed concern for him as someone helped him to his feet.

Harry, along with most of the pub, assumed the man had drunk too much and simply slipped from his seat. Only when he started shouting about ‘Dementors’ did anyone pay further attention. Though that could also have been because the window he had been sat next to suddenly turned dark as a shape blocked out the light and a faint crackling sound crept through the pub as ice crawled across the glass.

Harry didn’t catch what broken the window pane, whether it was one of the Dementors or one of the drinkers, but the sound of the glass shattering and the unearthly cold that poured through the gap was unmissable.

Panic spread through the crowd like a wave, starting small but building until an older man, short and balding, tried to apparate away in fear. It was a unique experience for Harry. He had never seen someone try to apparate through an anti-apparition enchantment before. The magic sat like an enormous net over Hogsmeade, but the moment the man tried to apparate, the magic reacted. Violently. Space had only begun to bend around the man in a way that made little sense to Harry when the enchantment suddenly appeared around him, panels of solid reality that rejected his attempt to warp space completely. The air around him grew heavy as space twisted back into place, expelling him with a sound akin to piece of heavy metal flexing. The short wizard was sent spinning into the bar, knocking over two other panicking patrons and a bar stool as he did so.

“The windows are cracking!” The terrified shriek from one of the witches by the front door caused even more panic as the crowd surged inwards, desperate to reach the fireplace and the possibility of escape through the Floo.

Harry grabbed hold of Susan and Terry even as they tried to stand and follow the crowd, his grip was firm and his voice even despite the fear that thrummed in his veins as he vocalised what those closest to the fireplace had already discovered.

“Wait, the Floo is down, we can’t get out that way.” Terry immediately stopped and stepped back to stand beside Harry, Susan seemed conflicted until shouts echoed from the fireplace that confirmed his statement. Hannah, Neville and Hermione had taken a few short steps before they too returned to the table that the six third years had been sat at.

“H-how did you know that?” Hermione questioned but Harry ignored her as his attention turned away from the torn strands of magic across the fireplace and instead focussed on the magic laid into the stone and timber that formed the walls of the Three Broomsticks. He could see the charms flickering at the edges closest to the Dementors outside, they wouldn’t hold up against such concentrated exposure to the Dementor’s awful aura.

“QUIET!” It took Harry a few seconds to realise it was him who had shouted, but something in his voice shocked the rest of the bar into a tentative silence. For a moment the only sound in the inn was that of a dozen people breathing. Then the sound of old wood creaking under the strain of holding up the first floor without the aid of magic filled the barroom, quickly followed by the sound of oak splintering as one of the pillars began to crack and split.

The panic returned with a vengeance as half a dozen wands suddenly pointed towards the faltering wooden pillar and cast various spells to reinforce it. Unfortunately, one of the first lessons Hogwarts teaches was forgotten by these six eager witches and wizards; while combining the efforts of multiple magic wielders could allow them to perform feats which individually would be beyond them, this could only be done with careful planning and practice, otherwise the conflicting intentions, however small, could cause the whole project to collapse.

While all the casters had the same general intention of preventing the ceiling above them from falling down, the specific intentions differed greatly. One witch tried to simply repair the damage already done to the pillar, reforming it into an undamaged state. Another cast a strengthening charm to reinforce the wood. A younger wizard who had only graduated Hogwarts a few months prior tried to transfigure the beam into steel in the hopes it would hold the ceiling up.

Six spells collided with the wooden post, warping it and strengthening it in various ways. What was left looked like a piece of modern art gone wrong. Veins of metal ran throughout the wooden post, tufts of green leaves sprouted from the sides, splinters spiked out from it where they couldn’t return to their original positions and the whole thing had swollen to be twice as thick as normal.

Only Harry could see the roiling mass of colour that burned inside the malformed pillar like a storm, so only he could act when it suddenly burst sending wood and metal fragments rocketing across the room.

Harry moved even as he saw the magic expanding, his wand flew to his hand before he could draw it and he flicked it through the air with practiced movements. He had inverted his favourite shield charm, that Susan had affectionately nicknamed the Tortoise Shell, before but this time he both inverted it and manipulated the shape. He conjured a cylinder of hexagonal panels of force that caught the worst of the shrapnel, though a few pieces slipped over the top or ricocheted inside. The ceiling groaned and slumped before it caught against the topmost section of the spell where it rested with an ominous creaking.

“ARGH!” The pained bellow came from a little old lady stood close to the pillar, one of the metal splinters had ricocheted off the floor and under the shield to catch her in the leg. “YOU BLOODY-” The shout was at odds with the woman's diminutive frame her kindly face twisted into a rictus of fury as she staggered clutching her bleeding leg.

Harry rotated his wrist and twisted the shape of the spell to form a more complete base and prop up the ceiling more, it was stretching the spell’s to its limits to do so but it held for the moment. As he turned to apologise to the elderly witch he had injured he stopped in shock.

The woman’s magic, which he could have sworn was a pleasant and placid lilac only a few moments before, was changing. Streaks of amber and red and grey bled through the lilac, staining the magic until it was entirely replaced with deeper, wild colours that promised hidden violence. The magic strained against the confines of her body and for a second Harry thought her skin might burst from holding it.

And then it did. Or rather, it stretched enormously. Starting with her leg, the skin swelled and extended until it was almost twice its previous length. Her other leg grew similarly as she stumbled forwards, the change spreading to her torso and arms. Coarse black hair burst through her skin to cover her limbs. Claw-like nails grew rapidly from her fingers. Her face was the last to change. A deep jaw and a nose that had been broken many times pushed through as she straightened to reveal that she was no longer a kindly old woman.

A wild man, long straggly hair covering most of his face, he towered over the rest of the crowd standing a good head taller than all of them. The enraged expression seemed far more natural on his predatorial face and the growl that emanated from his chest sent those still standing nearby scattering backwards.

“Tha-that’s Greyback!” The cry was echoed by others who recognised the man from the wanted posters and a new fear filled the barroom. The crowd surged as people struggled to decide which they feared more. The monsters outside or the one in the room with them.

“That’s right. I am Fenrir Geyback.” The monstrous werewolf stepped forward with a slight limp as blood dribbled from the wound in his leg that had carried over from his disguised form. “You all know what I do to anyone who gets in my way. Today I just want the boy, so stay out of my way.”

It’s a sad fact that when faced with a real monster, most will turn away. Self-preservation. Fear. There are many words for it but in the end they bring the same result.

Greyback took another limping step and the crowd stayed silent. Another step. By now Harry could smell the odour of rotting flesh that wafted from the werewolf’s mouth. Another step. Harry was the first to notice the ripple that passed through the crowd. It coincided with light pouring in through the windows, banishing the shadows from the inn. Greyback winced slightly at the sudden glare and the show of vulnerability broke the fearful spell the crowd was under. Wands began to appear, pointed at the criminal as figures stepped closer to Harry.

It was heartwarming. Delayed, but still heartwarming that most of the crowd stepped up to help him. Even his friends stepped up with wands drawn in the direction of Greyback who faltered in the face of so many mages against him.

“I tried to be diplomatic.” Fenrir growled as he drew his own crooked wand from the pocket of his ripped robes, they had not survived his sudden growth spurt unharmed.

Before he could turn it on the crowd though, Harry acted. He had been waiting for Greyback to get closer to the remains of the pillar where his spell still remained, but he had no choice but to act as streams of grey and red flowed down Greyback’s wand arm.

With a jerk of his hand, he ripped the cylindrical barrier down, collapsing it and reforming it until it settled over the crowd around Greyback. For a panic-filled moment nothing happened.

CRASH

The ceiling gave way with a tremendous clatter, wood and stone crumbling down to fall almost directly onto Fenrir who moved to try and avoid the falling rubble but bounced off the barrier straight back into its path. Stone and broken wooden planks covered him and sent him crashing to the floor as a heavy cloud of dust kicked up around him.

A few long moments passed before the pile of rubble shifted, a claw tipped arm pushed free of the stone and began to lift the mound of stone and timber with unnatural strength. Harry moved as quickly as he could to position the portion of fallen ceiling between him and the door even as Greyback raised himself to a crouch and pushed the last of the fallen masonry to the floor.

“You are going to regret that you lit-”

“Depulso!”

A concentrated wave of force rippled out from Harry’s wand as he put all of his effort into banishing the furious Greyback in the direction of the front door. He had expected the spell to send the Dark Wizard bowling towards the door, maybe even cause him to break a table on the way.

It was Harry’s first time using the spell but he was pleasantly surprised by the results as Greyback rocketed through the air. He clipped an empty table, breaking the corner against his shoulder, before he struck the door and burst through that as well, scattering the wood out onto the street as he landed in an undignified heap in front of a bemused looking Professor Dumbledore.

“I see you have this well in hand, Mr Potter.”

END

Chapter Text

ANNOUNCEMENT

Hello everyone, apologies for the long delays but with the festive period and burnout I have been slow in writing the next bundle of chapters. To hopefully alleviate my burnout I have decided to alternate between two stories instead of trying to focus on just Unseeing Eyes even while ideas for another have been bubbling for a while now.

So this is to let you all know that I have another story available now, its based in the DC Universe and set primarily in Gotham City for now, but characters from across DC will be appearing, including everyone's favourite Themysciran Princess. Please give it a read if it sounds like something you would be interested in and let me know what you think!

Chapter Text

Chapter 29

Authors Notes

Hello everyone, I apologise once again for the delays with this story. I have been struggling with burnout for a while and finally had to concede that I needed to take a break from writing and even some time off of work but I feel refreshed after my break and ready to write once more.

This year I will not be sticking to any rigid release schedule, but I will be releasing chapters for this story and for 'A City On His Shoulders' which is my other current story based in the DC Universe. If you haven't read it already then please give it a try, its a very different story to this one but hopefully equally as good!

As always thanks for reading and please continue to Favourite, Follow and Review!

Chapter 29

Malfoy Manor was a building that reflected its owner in many ways. On the outside it appeared to be a beautiful building of clean white stone and gleaming glass windows, an elaborate series of magical creatures carved from stone lined the path that led from the wrought-iron gates to the tall doors of the manor. Peacocks strut around the gardens, displaying their majestic plumage to all who visit as a not-so subtle sign of wealth and prosperity. The manor held several extravagant ballrooms, a dozen bedrooms and three dining rooms all decorated with intricate tapestries and portraits of pleasant landscapes.

However, the clean and pleasant exterior was a facade, a mask to hide the dark reality that dwelled beneath the surface. Hidden behind the fireplace in the Lord's study was a staircase that descended to the dungeons beneath the manor where the truth of Lucius Malfoy dwelled. A sprawling network of tunnels and rooms had been built beneath the manor by Lucius' grandfather, Nicholas Malfoy, originally to serve as a safe haven to retreat to should Grindelwald's forces succeed in invading Britain. Nicholas Malfoy had laid a myriad of protection and concealing enchantments upon the underground hideaway and his descendants had only added to his work. Now the various rooms were used for less savoury purposes than protecting one's family.

Instead, most of the rooms had been converted into cells, laboratories or meeting places for when Lucius needed secrecy. The cells were only half full, twelve muggle women of various ages were held within the barred rooms with only stained stone and cold chains for company. Lucius was within his favoured study, sat in a plush chair with a tall back as he stewed angrily and drained his glass of whiskey with a growl.

On the desk in front of him lay a scattered sheaf of parchments, some were official documents copied from within the Ministry and sent to him by agents he paid or threatened to do his bidding, others were messages from contacts in Hogsmeade who had informed him of Greyback's failure.

Twice now his plans had been derailed by the Potter boy. He had planted his master's cursed diary in the Weasley girl's cauldron in an effort to force Arthur Weasley to stop poking into his affairs, the so-called Muggle Protection Act was nuisance enough without Weasley adding clauses allowing property searches to it. Admittedly he hadn't known it would cause the Chamber of Secrets to be opened but otherwise the plan was flawless, the Weasley girl would be caught red-handed after an 'anonymous tip' by one of his agents within the DMLE and the family would be ruined, none would ever believe them to be Muggle-lovers after the girl was sent to Azkaban for killing Mudbloods.

Then Potter interfered. Somehow the blind brat was able to stop the curse on the Diary, a magic so potent and insidious that even the few books Lucius had gained from his marriage to the Black's didn't make mention of it. None of the blame fell at the Weasley's feet, and the old Headmaster had the gall to threaten him. He had needed to pay off a series of sanctions and one-time taxes during the Summer Wizengamot that Dumbledore had cleverly orchestrated to take a heavy dent out of his accounts, not enough to cripple him but it was more than he received for Narcissa's dowry and was enough to frustrate him.

So he waited and plotted. He had given up on locating the Potter boy's home a decade ago, the few criminals he could find willing to hunt for the Boy-Who-Lived had all disappeared days or even hours after they set off and after a year no others would take the job. Potter was only vulnerable once he stepped onto Platform 9 , so he had reached out to one of the few contacts he had who would risk openly antagonising Albus Dumbledore.

Fenrir Greyback. The man was more beast than wizard but he was an undeniably useful tool, one merely needed to know how to handle him. Greyback was proud and, with one notable exception, feared no-one and nothing, he only sought to grow his pack infect more with his cursed gift. Lucius had offered him assistance in returning to Britain, along with a safehouse and supplies, in exchange for Greyback taking a specific student as a new member of his pack. Potter.

Greyback infiltrated Hogsmeade using a sample of Polyjuice Lucius had supplied, at great personal expense, and waited in the Three Broomsticks for the boy to turn up. It should have been simple, but that mad bastard Black showed up in Hogsmeade at the same time and the Dementor's swarmed the place. From the reports Lucius had received from his Auror friends, it seemed Greyback's Polyjuice transformation failed and the werewolf tried to take Potter by force, only for the boy to collapse a ceiling on him and then somehow send him flying out of the tavern to land at Dumbledore's feet.

It had cost him a small fortune but he had no choice but to setup an 'escape' from the holding cells at Hadrian's Wall, Greyback knew too much to risk him being questioned by Bones or Scrimgeour. Hundreds of Galleons in bribes, a new enemy in the Portkey department and a hefty donation to Fudge's 'Discretionary Budget' to ensure the Minister wouldn't investigate too deeply into the escape led to the werewolf 'overpowering' his guard when he was moved cells for 'administrative' reasons. Then Greyback 'stumbled' upon a clerk from the Department of Magical Transport who coincidentally happened to be near the holding cells with a clean Portkey for testing outside the still activated Hadrian's Wards.

All because Potter refused to die when his betters wanted him to like his parents had. It was infuriating. Lucius had needed to vent his frustrations on one of his more recent acquisitions for over an hour before he could think about the boy without his blood boiling with impotent rage.

"Are you there Lucius? I have word from the Wall." The nasally sound of Walden Macnair's voice echoed from the corner of the study where a tall mirror leaned against the wall covered with a grey sheet of cloth. The cloth was enchanted to block all sound and light from passing through it from the study, but it allowed sound to escape from the mirror behind it.

Lucius flicked his wand towards the corner and the sheet slipped from the mirror to pool on the floor and expose the mirror's surface to him. It was an old artifact from his family's time in France before they travelled across with the Conqueror in the tenth century. The standing mirror framed by ornate ebony came with six smaller handheld mirror's, by speaking into one of these smaller 'child' mirrors' one could contact the larger 'parent' mirror. Originally created as a tool to aid in warfare, to allow a general to give time-sensitive orders to captains or units in battle, Lucius had found the objects served much better for his more clandestine dealings.

"What is it Walden? I have already heard that Greyback escaped, with any luck he will be back in Bulgaria by morning."

"Lucius he...the Auror's traced the Portkey and Greyback dropped out early. He's still in Scotland, they think he landed somewhere north of Dunblane..." Walden started eagerly but the sight of Lucius' face growing still with rage led him to quieten as the Malfoy patriarch absorbed the information.

It wasn't impossible to drop out of a Portkey before it reached it's intended destination, but it was dangerous and painful. At best you would find yourself falling twenty or thirty feet out of the sky at immense speeds, at worst you could be stuck halfway through a wall or stuck in the middle of a mountain depending on the path the Portkey was following. That Greyback would risk dropping out prematurely meant the werewolf suspected Lucius intended to double-cross him or he had unfinished business in Britain.

That thought caused a vicious grin to creep across Lucius' face as he considered it. Greyback was known to spend weeks, even months hunting individuals he found worthy. If he had chosen Potter as his next victim then things could still work out for Lucius, but he needed to make some important moves first.

"Walden. Your proposal, the Half-Breed Registration Act? Bring it forward to Diggory and he will present it at the next Wizengamot. I have some amendments in mind but I will ensure it is passed." Lucius flicked his wand again even as Walden sputtered his gratitude, but it was ignored as the Malfoy turned back to his desk with plans spinning through his mind. If he was clever and careful he could kill two Muggles with one spell, Potter could be punished and he could recoup his lost power within the Wizengamot after Dumbledore's actions to stifle him.

"Sanctimonia Vincet Semper." He whispered to himself as he stood and stalked down the corridor towards one of the other cells. He always planned best when his blood was pumping and nothing worked quite as well as putting Muggles in their place.

Within a handful of heartbeats, the corridors filled with sound of screaming. In the other cells, women huddled themselves against the walls and tried to block out the sounds, torn between anguish and relief that they were not today's victims.

"Silence!" Professor Snape demanded as he stalked through the door and into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. "Professor Lupin has taken ill and is unavailable. I will be teaching in his absence. Turn to page 394."

The sound of rustling pages and near-silent groans filled the classroom as Harry flipped through the heavy book, past the chapters on water demons, Red Caps and even Acromantula. Finally, his fingers brushed across the braille lettering in the corner for '394' and he skimmed his hand across the page to the heading.

"Werewolves." Harry whispered the word to himself as he read the first few lines of the page with a slight frown.

"Professor? We aren't supposed to be covering Werewolves yet, we're still on XXX rated creatures-" Susan had her hand raised but hadn't waited to be called on, she was always oddly confident in the face of Professor Snape.

"Yes I am aware Miss Bones, put your hand down." Snape snapped as he flicked his wand at the blackboard and a piece of chalk began to scribble across its surface. "After the events of the Hogsmeade trip last week and Greyback's subsequent disappearance, the Headmaster agreed it would be wise to educate you all on the dangers of such monsters."

The reminder of the spoiled Hogsmeade visit was enough to stifle any more questions when combined with the Potions Master's dour expression. Harry quickly ran his fingertips across the pages covering Werewolves in his book as Professor Snape tapped the blackboard with his wand and began his lecture.

"Now the origins of these beasts are lost to the ages, but there are many theories and legends which reference them from millennia past such as the tale of King Lycaon of Arcadia who was cursed by the gods or the Ancient Nordic Skinwalkers who used animal pelts to transform. While we do not know the exact origins of the curse, the effects have been well documented and while some of the legends are patently ridiculous, some hold a grain of truth.

Werewolves will transform on the Full Moon and the Wolfsbane Potion does not prevent this, however it does allow the creature to retain some fraction of their minds instead of succumbing to the curse entirely. The Wolfsbane Potion is inordinately difficult to brew for most and so is a commodity rarely afforded. Instead, most who of the monsters use either a heavily warded section of woodland in Europe that the ICW control or are bound in cages or enchanted rooms to hold them during their transformations. Any Werewolf found transformed in Britain not bound or caged can immediately be sentenced to ten years in Azkaban or for life if they have injured or turned another Witch or Wizard.

Alchemically pure Silver will cause immense pain to Werewolves when transformed, however due to its rarity it is not commonly used against them. Mundane Silver will do nothing and conjured Silver can on occasion cause discomfort due to its magical origin but again it is difficult to achieve so rarely used."

"Can any of you tell me another viable defence against a transformed Werewolf?" Snape arched an eyebrow as he surveyed the classroom and Harry felt Terry shift nervously beside him before raising his hand. "Boot?"

"Um ... Fire?"

"An obvious answer but not incorrect, though the conjured fire would need to be exceptionally hot to do any real damage to the creature. I doubt any in this classroom could achieve such..." It was difficult to tell because of the way Harry's sight fell across Snape's face but he was fairly sure the man was staring at him as he let the sentence tail off for a long moment. "While your books will detail several methods to deter a Werewolf such as drowning or binding them physically, in truth you should simply flee if you encounter one as even Auror's will only face them when absolutely necessary and never alone."

A girl in the back raised their hand and it took Harry a moment to recall the girl's name, Megan Jones, she was usually quiet and friendly with the Gryffindor girls but had bravely called Professor Snape's attention to herself.

"You have a question?" The disdain was audible in Snape's voice as he stared at the brave Hufflepuff who looked to be undaunted.

"Last year Professor Lockhart told us about the Homorphous Charm he used to turn a Werewolf back into a man-"

"Lockhart was wrong. The Homorphous Spell is not a charm nor is it of any use against a Werewolf. The Homorphous Spell is a complicated piece of Transfiguration used to reverse an Animagus Transformation, it will do nothing to a Werewolf except irritate it, a skill you already seem adept in." Megan sank down into her chair at the rebuke and Professor Snape stalked back to the blackboard. "The incident Lockhart referred to was in Armenia where a Wolf Animagus was terrorising a village by pretending to be a Werewolf. The difference between a Werewolf and an Animagus is?"

Harry raised his hand and noticed that only Susan had raised her own as well. He was sure that more knew the answer, but the fierce reaction Snape had to even the slightest inaccuracy was enough to put them off.

"Potter."

"A Werewolf is bitten and has a curse imparted onto them, they have no choice when they transform and retain no control over themselves while they are under the effects of a Full Moon. An Animagus studies and eventually masters a difficult branch of Transfiguration which allows them to transform at will between their human and animal forms and while transformed they remain in control, though sometimes the animal instincts of their form will sway their actions." Harry took a breath as he considered his next words carefully, so far he had only recounted the information he had read in the assigned Transfiguration textbook, but he had come across an entry on Werewolves in one of the Braille books in the Library that went into more detail on the cursed shapeshifters. There were definitely some Braille books that had slipped through the Librarian's notice, the detail some of them went into for more esoteric or dangerous magic was...disturbing in some cases. "Werewolves are driven by their curse to hunt and attack any human's nearby, sometimes they just bite the prey but other times they will then kill and ... eat the body. It's believed this is because they have some way to detect when the curse will be more likely to kill the host than transform them, though there are still cases where the victim dies during the first Full Moon after the bite. Werewolves can only be distracted from the hunt by another Werewolf or a predator that they see as a real threat to their lives."

There was a long beat of silence as Harry waited for the Professor's response, he expected some vitriol or angered correction from the Potions Master.

"...An acceptable answer. Now read the chapter on Werewolves from your books and for homework I expect a foot of parchment on the Lycanthropy Curse, it's potential origins and how to recognise one afflicted by it."

By the end of the lesson Harry was certain of two facts. First was that Professor Snape hated Werewolves with a passion, he had described them as 'beasts', 'monsters' and 'abominations' and the man's magic had roiled aggressively a few times during the lecture, even if his voice had remained level for most of it. Second was that Werewolves were immensely dangerous when transformed but, despite what some texts stated, were relatively normal (for magical folk) the rest of the time. Nothing about the curse meant those afflicted with it were more likely to be sadistic or cruel, but with the way some Ministries treated them it was unsurprising that so many had turned to crime or banding together in 'dangerous' packs to survive.

This thought stayed with Harry until he sat down in the Charms classroom and Professor Flitwick called the room to order from his place atop the precariously stacked books behind his lectern.

"Vald Rike"

Harry had made it a point to keep practicing with the gravity spell he had impressed Professor Flitwick with. It was exceedingly difficult and, in most cases, not worth the effort compared to the far simpler Levitation Charm, but knowing he could exert control over gravity itself drew him back time and manipulate a fundamental force of nature, it was almost intoxicating.

He was still limited in the size of the area he could apply the effect to, but he had at least moved up to being able to lift one of the three-legged stools that remained in the abandoned classroom he and his friends had claimed in the Charms corridor. It still caused him to hunch from the backlash as he took dominion over the gravity acting on the stool, but the strain no longer felt bone-breaking and he was debating moving on to one of the larger chairs that were stacked against the wall when the door swung open with a crash.

"Oh ... sorry Harry ... I didn't think anyone else would be in here yet." Neville mumbled from the doorway. His magic roiled and spiked with frustration that was rare from the usually placid Gryffindor.

"S'okay Nev, what happened?" Harry gently let the stool settle on the floor before he released his hold on the spell as Neville took a seat on one of the other chairs in the room.

"Hermione and Ron again. He reckons his rat is dying and blamed Hermione's cat, Crookshanks. Well anyway, now his rat is missing and the two of them were pointing wands at each other when I left." Neville explained with a sigh. "And worse, they drag anyone nearby into the argument. I mean, I'm sorry for Ron and everything but Percy mentioned he found the rat in their garden when he was eight or something so surely the thing can't have long left in it anyway!"

"Could it be a magical rat?" Harry asked absently as he tried to recall the magical creatures he had read about in his time at Hogwarts and if any resembled a long-lived rat.

"I suppose it could be a Rat-King," Neville mused for a moment before he shook his head, "Oh wait, nope it's missing a toe on one of its paws."

Harry had never heard of a 'Rat-King' and his confusion must have shown on his face as Neville quickly explained his statement.

"Oh Rat-King's are pretty rare but they are magical rats that attract other rodents and can even control them, but the attraction is sometimes too strong so the rats get all tangled up and their tails knot together. Normal rats would die or at least lose their tails, but Rat-Kings can regrow their whole bodies as long as a piece of their tail survives so if Scabbers is missing a toe then it can't be a Rat-King."

"Scabbers? What a lovely name."

"Isn't it? The Twins named it that after Percy tried to name it something poncy and I guess it stuck." That drew a laugh from Harry, it did sound like something the Twins would do. "Oh I forgot to say, Professor Lupin is back in his office now, you wanted to see him didn't you?"

"Oh ... yes." Harry let out a sigh and stood up slowly. "Yes I suppose I should go and see him, are you going to be okay here?"

"Oh yeah, I just wanted somewhere quiet to do some reading anyway." Neville pulled a book from his bag, no doubt something on obscure magical plants, and settled into one of the chairs happily.

Harry smiled and left the green-fingered Gryffindor to his peaceful reading. It was only a short walk down the corridor and around the corner until he reached an innocuous section of blank wall between twin portraits of Cerberi that barked quietly at his approach. It was one of the trickier secret passages Harry had found, not least because even with the portraits being enchanted the images on them were a fuzzy blur in his sight. It was only after overhearing someone else complain about the aggressive three-headed portraits that he had realised what he needed to do to reveal the entrance to the passage.

While playing a melody on an instrument was beyond him, he was capable of whistling a tune until the guardians of canvas and paint settled into satisfied snoring. Once they did so he pushed firmly on one of the stone blocks and a section of wall swung open near silently to reveal a staircase that descended for exactly twenty-seven steps until Harry suddenly had a face full of ancient dust covered cloth.

He had used this passageway three times since finding the trick to it at the end of second year and each time the sudden appearance of the back of the tapestry surprised him. One moment he would be walking down a seemingly endless staircase, the next he was walking out from a solid wall and into the back of a tapestry which, according to Terry at least, depicted an enormous black metal gate that led to Tartarus. He had figured out that the exit occurred on the twenty-seventh step, but the exact moment changed each time. On his first occasion it was the moment his foot touched the step, the next was when he began to step off the twenty-seventh step and the third was actually as he lifted his foot from the twenty-sixth step, causing him to almost fall on his face if not for the old tapestry.

With a cough to clear the dust from his mouth, Harry pushed his way free of the weaving and stepped out into a corridor just around the corner from the Defence classroom. He walked across to the classroom and resisted the urge to draw his wand as he knocked, but he did keep a firm grip of his cane when the weary voice from within called for him to enter.

"Ah Harry, eager to practice the Patronus again? I'm afraid I have some marking for the fifth years to finish but perhaps this afternoon I could set aside a half hour?" Professor Lupin remarked from his seat behind the desk at the front of the classroom, and indeed he did have a towering pile of parchment rolls on his right and a much smaller pile on his left that he added to with a sigh. "The number of students who don't know the difference between Reducto and Reducio is seriously concerning..."

"One is a Jinx for destroying objects and the other is a shrinking Charm and counters the Engorgement Charm." Harry answered automatically and he coughed embarrassedly when he realised Lupin's words weren't meant for him.

"Two points for Ravenclaw for correcting an Owl student's work." Lupin smiled genially.

"Oh er thanks Professor but I wasn't actually here about the Patronus." Harry tapped his cane nervously against the stone floor as he tried to focus on his breathing to keep calm. "I ... you heard about the Hogsmeade trip and what happened? And Professor Snape's essay?" He added the second question hurriedly and his tapping picked up speed as he waited for the Professor's reaction.

"I think most of Britain has a general idea of what happened in Hogsmeade, but if you mean the fact you all but captured a ... dangerous wizard on your own in the Three Broomsticks, then yes Albus informed me." There was a rumbling edge to the Defence Professor's voice by the end of his words and Harry couldn't hide the flinch when the thin silver slashes in his otherwise warm brown magic pulsed and swelled for a moment. It reminded him vividly of the encounter in Hogsmeade and the only other person he had met with similar scarring to their magic.

"As for Professor Snape's essay, as I told the others who came asking about it, I won't be expecting anyone to hand it in and there will be no punishments for not completing it. Though if you do, I will of course grade it." Professor Lupin leaned back and regarded Harry carefully for a moment when the Ravenclaw reacted with only a slow nod before he pushed the essay he had been marking aside and gestured to the tapping cane. "Is there something else you wished to ask me Harry?"

"Are you ... a Werewolf, Professor Lupin?"

There the question was asked and Harry prepared for the shouting, or worse, that was sure to follow.

"Ah. Well I suppose it makes sense you would figure it out, your parents actually took longer to do so." A much calmer reply than Harry was expecting broke the silence and he was shocked to notice the Professor seemed to be smiling. "I can neither confirm or deny your query Harry, but I must ask, if I am what you believe then why confront me? Why not tell another member of staff?"

"They must already know. Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have missed it and Professor Snape definitely knows after the lesson he gave, besides you've been helping me with the Dementors and you're the best Defence Professor we've had in years." Now that the possibility of violence, remote as Harry had believed it to be, was gone he stopped his nervous tapping and settled for leaning on the cane as he answered the Professor.

"Yes I did wonder who might guess after Severus' little prompt. Well I understand if you don't wish for me to assist you with the Patronus Charm after this Harry, I will let Filius know you will need his help from now on."

"Why wouldn't I want you to help me? You haven't tried to eat me in any of our lessons, I doubt you'll start now."

"You ..." Professor Lupin seemed stunned for a moment before he let out a short bark-like laugh. "You remind me so much of your parents sometimes Harry. Very well, have you been practicing with memories?"

"Yes I have a few more to try that I think might work."

"Very well, come back after lunch and we will try again with the Boggart."

The Winter Break arrived suddenly and with little fanfare. One day the school was full and the next the majority of the students had left for three weeks ofquality time with family and friends around crackling fires and tinselled trees. Once again, Harry had been advised by his aunt to remain at Hogwarts as Vernon had decided rather abruptly that the family should visit Marge over the Christmas period. Petunia apologised and Harry thought he could feel little patches where she had cried over the Braille letter.

"I think Aunt Petunia might have a rough Christmas this year." Harry murmured as he ran a finger across Kyrre's feathers. There was little he could do to help her from the torment of dealing with Marge, the odious woman was truly a horror, but he could at least send her some comfort with his Hrafn's help. "Could you head down to her and visit her Christmas Eve, sometime late at night when the other's will be asleep?"

Kyrre cocked her corvine head and nodded slowly and a moment later Harry had a fleeting impression of a feathery hug press against his mind as the large bird pressed her beak against his forehead before she hopped away. She bent down to pick up a sausage and took off, aiming for the opening at the top of the Great Hall that owls used to enter and leave.

It was a quiet breakfast with only a few other Ravenclaw's still in the Castle, most were in their Owl or Newt years and were studying even as they tried to feed themselves without looking away from their books. Harry was no exception, with Kyrre gone he pulled out the book he had borrowed from the Library once again. Regis de la Rue had lived an extraordinary life and his memoir was equally extraordinary.

Each time Harry read it, he found new chapters that he was certain hadn't been there on his previous readings. The autobiography was enchanted in some way that he couldn't decipher, the magic woven into the very ink and vellum of the book, but none of it seemed malicious and he had been assured that the Library had enchantments to alert the school of dangerous books not kept in the Restricted Section.

This was his third time reading the book and this time he had found more detailed chapters on the Frenchman's time at Beauxbaton's , specifically his time studying under the Immortal Alchemist himself. Nicolas Flamel had taught at Beauxbaton's several times over the centuries and had been there for the six years Regis had attended before the nobles of France decided that commoners shouldn't study alongside those of higher standing. Six years was a long time to spend under the wing of a wizard like Flamel though and, while the chapters didn't detail any new spells this time they did go into depth on Flamel's beliefs about magic and his own personal spellcasting technique.

Much of it was too advanced for Harry's understanding, even with his prodigious talent he was still only a third-year and there were whole paragraphs he couldn't decipher, most seemed beyond Owl or even Newt level. But what little he could understand was still very interesting, there were even some half-formed ideas for duelling that he noted to look into when he had a chance.

Harry was so engrossed in the book that he didn't notice when most of the rest of the hall emptied, but he did start when a beak pecked his hand. An owl stood radiating indignation with a letter tied to its leg and its beak ready to peck again before he grabbed the letter and offered a rasher of cold bacon in apology. The bird took the offering, though its beak veered dangerously close to his fingertips, and took off as he opened the letter and ran his hand across it.

Dear Harry,

You are hereby invited to this year's Christmas Day gathering, I will of course be there alongside the grumpy old man and the toymaker.

Your Aunt has already given her permission and Filius has agreed to escort you again. Please let him know if there is a problem.

Sincerely,

Percival Dearborn

And indeed, his Head of House found him in the Common Room Christmas morning ready to set off. He had already opened the presents sent to him by friends and family and was wearing a new jumper and tinted glasses his aunt had sent him, as well a very supple feeling Dragon-hide belt that Susan had sent for him. He hoped she liked the fur-lined gloves he had gifted her in return, he had been assured by Terry that the yellow and black leather looked lovely and not at all 'like a bumblebee'.

"Merry Christmas Harry, are you ready to go?" Professor Flitwick was wearing one of his signature three-piece suits with a cloak thrown over the top to stave off the chill that lingered despite the cheerfully crackling fires that littered the castle.

"Merry Christmas, Professor, yes let me just..." Harry stood from his seat and reached down to grab the lumpy sack of gifts and the cane that lay atop it before he straightened and followed the Charms Master out of the entrance to the tower.

The short mage led Harry down the corridor and onto the Grand Staircase but then stepped off on the first floor instead of continuing down to the ground floor and the main entrance. Harry considered questioning the professor but quickly decided against it, the man had walked these halls for longer than Harry had been alive and was unlikely to be lost so must have a purpose in mind for the detour.

"Ah here we are." Professor Flitwick knocked firmly on a familiar door, the Defence classroom, and waited for a long moment before the door opened to reveal Professor Lupin shrugging on a tired looking cloak that Harry see had been repaired with magic multiple times over its life. "Merry Christmas Remus."

"Merry Christmas Filius." Lupin smiled and closed the door behind him as he patted his pockets and nodded to the young Ravenclaw. "And Merry Christmas to you Harry, I hope you don't mind me tagging along but Alastor invited me."

"Merry Christmas Professor Lupin," Harry stepped aside to let the two professors pass him on the way back towards the stairs before he followed. "No not at all, the more the merrier!"

"Thank you, Harry, and please, I think for today you can just call me Remus."

The unusual trio made their way down the stairs and out into the eerily quiet entrance hall, then through the enormous doors that opened out to the courtyard and the path that led down to the main gates. Despite it being midmorning, the sun was still half-hidden behind the mountains to the east and the thick clouds, enough that Professor Flitwick summoned a hovering light to help see the icy stone path. The werelight was no help to Harry but that was where his stave proved its more mundane purpose as he let it aid him when his footing was less sure.

They soon reached the gates but, without a word shared between them, all slowed their pace until they came to a stop some dozen paces from the enchanted stone and iron boundary. For hovering on the other side of the gates were two Dementors, initially they had been facing out towards the faint lights of Hogsmeade but, sensing their approach, had turned to watch the teachers and student for the last few steps.

"Unfortunately we need to cross the ward lines to apparate, and after your previous experiences with them I am loathe to force you any closer Harry." Filius tapped his foot as he considered the floating creatures for a few breaths, each one misting into a cold cloud that dissipated slowly in the chilly air. "Remus tells me you've made remarkable progress with your Patronus, you can conjure a shield reliably now, yes?"

"I wouldn't say remarkable but ... yes, I can form a shield with the Boggart at least." Harry was rather proud of that feat, it had taken hours of practice and hundreds of failed attempts but he had managed to force the Boggart back into the chest three times in a row in the last session.

"How do you feel about trying your wand against the real thing?" Filius gestured towards the looming spectres with a grin.

Harry frowned behind his new tinted glasses and took a few deep breaths as he considered the prospect of facing the soul-sucking demons that seemed eager for him to step closer. He had succeeded against the Boggart, but that was a diluted version of the real thing and even then, it hadn't been easy.

"Filius I don't -" Lupin started to speak, wanting to suggest an alternative approach but he was too late.

"I'll give it a go." Harry was surprised to hear himself say the words but he was already drawing his wand from the new holster that hung under his left arm, a gift from Neville and one he was grateful for as his old one had been getting too tight against his back and shoulders.

"Excellent, now we will be here ready to step in but I have faith in you Harry, trust in yourself." Filius smiled and drew his own wand but held it only loosely as he waited for Harry to make the attempt.

It was a daunting five steps until he was almost level with the bestial stone gargoyles that guarded the castle-side of the gates and the temperature dropped with each step until Harry could feel frost creeping across the exposed metal of his glasses. Each step also made focussing on his chosen memory more difficult as the oppressive aura of the Dementor's fell ever heavier across him.

It was worse than the Boggart, of that Harry had no doubt. The cold was sharper. The panic that bubbled in his chest was deeper. It threatened to overwhelm him as he stopped next to the winged-boar statue and tried to calm his mind.

But it wasn't as bad as he remembered it. On the train he had known that he was helpless against the cloaked monstrosity. It was an instinctive, primal knowledge that had forced its way to the forefront of his mind during the encounter. That no matter what magic he conjured, he would falter and fail in the face of the demon that wanted him and his friends. Now though, he knew that was not the case. There was a magic that could fight them. He might not have mastered it yet, but he knew it existed and he could summon a fraction of its potential. And that knowledge was enough.

"Expecto Patronum!"

In Harry's sight the green of his magic flowed down his wand and bloomed like a flower, turning cloudy and white as it spread and formed a swirling barrier between him and the Dementors. It filled much of the space in the open gateway and the pressure against it was immediate as the two Dementors recoiled from the magic that was anathema to them.

"Oh good show Harry!" Professor Flitwick cried gleefully as he stepped alongside his student and watched the creatures retreat from the shining beacon until they were almost thirty feet away where they stopped and floated threateningly. "But best not to antagonise them more than necessary, hold on tight."

Professor Lupin stepped up and grabbed the Head of Ravenclaw's shoulder as Harry gripped his arm and let his spell fade. The moment the misty barrier began to dissipate, the Dementors surged closer but they were too slow. The Scottish Highlands twisted around the trio and a few uncomfortable seconds later they arrived with a soft crack in front of a familiar building.

The Copper Artifice's was just as Harry remembered, filled with enchanted oddities and a warmth that had little to do with the small woodburner in the back room. The bell above the door jingled as they stepped through and stamped off the light dusting of snow on their boots.

"Good timing, bring up the box on the counter Filius!" The cheerful voice of Castamir called down from the staircase behind the counter where there was indeed a wooden box about the size of a Quaffle.

"And a very merry Christmas to you as well you lazy sod. Come along Harry, let's get some chocolate into you." Flitwick grumbled light-heartedly as he flicked his wand at the box and had it hover up the stairs ahead of them until they spilled out into the brightly lit lounge above the shopfloor.

"Oh yes Merry Christmas to you Filius, and to you Harry." Castamir hesitated momentarily when Professor Lupin stepped out from the stairwell behind Harry and in his sight he could see that a few of the strands of enchantment that threaded through the walls shivered as the Defence professor stepped into the room but otherwise there was no reaction from the magic and Castamir's hesitation disappeared behind a welcoming smile. "And a Merry Christmas to you as well Remus, you remember Arka?"

"I do indeed, Merry Christmas to the both of you." Lupin smiled and nodded to the Greek wizard and the House-Elf who was arranging a selection of bottles on one of the tables that lined the room.

"Are we the first ones here?" Harry asked as he waved in Arka's direction and received an excited wave in return.

"Indeed you are, though I believe the others should be here shortly. Filius you can leave that on the table there, thank you." Castamir gestured to the table beside the door and then pointed behind him, over the arm of his comfy looking chair towards the array of drinks. "Please help yourselves, though I'm afraid I have been warned you are not allowed Firewhiskey this time Harry."

The sound of the door opening downstairs distracted Harry from replying as the telltale heavy limp of Alastor echoed up the stairs along with the loud greeting of his nephew.

"Merry Christmas to all!" Percival cried as he jumped through the doorway and almost toppled over the chair closest to it. "Oops that could have been embarrassing."

"Could have been." Alastor snorted from behind Percival and stomped into the room with a crooked grin. "Merry Christmas, we all here now then?"

"Merry Christmas Alastor, yes this is all of us." Castamir tapped his foot nonchalantly on the floor but Harry saw the ripple travel along the enchantments as the lines of magic surrounding the room grew taught and thrummed dangerously.

"Good, hullo Harry, how's school treating you?" Alastor asked as he limped over to the drinks table and poured a glass of mead out for himself, though he did give it a suspicious sniff before he sipped from it.

"Hi Alastor, good thanks, how's Dark-Wizard catching treating you?" Harry smirked at the chuckle from the Auror and the heavy pat on the back from the man.

"Right little comedian you are." Alastor led the way back to the armchairs and settled in one facing the door with a sigh before he answered. "I'm getting too old for it to be truthful. Reckon this'll be my last year before I retire."

"Yes and a Hippogriff will shit gold." Castamir muttered which earned him a rude gesture from the older Auror Captain. "Come on Alastor, you would die of boredom if you weren't out there hunting, even if you are slowing down a bit in your old age."

"I am not slowing down you little shit. S'not the hunting I'm too old for, it's the politics." Castamir nodded in understanding at the reply.

"Is Scrimgeour still Head Auror?" Lupin asked as he sat down in one of the other chairs.

"Aye and he's in a pissing match with one of Fudge's lickspittles at the moment, we've lost funding for new armour and trying to get permits for emergency Portkeys has become a nightmare."

"I heard about this, didn't Scrimgeour catch her down Knockturn trying to buy Amortentia from a Hag?" Percival asked with a snort.

"No one is sure, Scrimgeour is keeping his trap shut tight about it and the official report disappeared before it was filed but from what I've heard it was a lust potion of some sort."

"Merlin, I pity the wizard the Undersecretary wants to-" Percival started to speak but a sharp cough from Professor Flitwick cut him off the Curse-breaker settled for taking a sip from his drink instead.

Any further conversation about the romantic life of Ministry workers was put off when Arka announced that the food was ready and a feast that rivalled the Hogwarts kitchens appeared on the tables that lined the room, with roasted turkey and goose, sweet carrots and crispy potatoes and a plethora of other foods. So much in fact that the tables groaned slightly at the sudden weight, but managed to remain standing.

Only after they had gorged themselves on Arka's bounty, did they settle back into armchairs by the fire and the gift-giving began. Castamir insisted he go first as the host and promptly summoned the wooden box Filius had brought up from the storefront.

"Alastor, this is for you."

The Auror Captain raised an eyebrow and turned his enchanted eye towards it for several long seconds before a somewhat grim smile split his craggy features.

"Do I want to know how you got this across the border?" The question prompted a chuckle from Castamir and a shake of the head. "Well I s'pose it'd be a waste not to accept it. Cheers, Leventis."

The rest of the gifts were less secretive but Alastor kept the box on the arm of his chair with a scarred hand atop it. In the end Harry received a new enchanted quill from Castamir that could even detect someone whispering across the room and print their words in Braille, something that drew a somewhat disapproving look from the two Professor's but made Alastor chuckle. Then Percival handed out his own gifts and gave Harry a gold coin he had found in one of the pyramids, it wasn't enchanted but it was at least three millennia old and Harry found himself running his fingers over the remarkably well-preserved etchings upon it throughout the afternoon.

Then it was Harry's turn and he handed out the gifts in his bag until he reached Professor Lupin who smiled understandingly.

"Not to worry Harry, seeing you cast that Patronus was present enough for me." Lupin's words caused an explosive cough from Alastor and a short clap from Castamir.

"You cast a Patronus? Surely not a corporeal one?" Alastor asked after he soothed his throat with a drink.

"No, it was just a shield and it was only two Dementors, it's really not that -" Harry tried to explain as he shuffled back to his seat but this time Percival cut him off.

"Bloody hell, Harry I couldn't manage a Patronus in any form until a few years ago, let alone one strong enough to repel two Dementors!"

"Aye its bloody impressive Harry, I've got a few Auror's that can't cast that spell, and I know a fair few of the Hit Wizards can't do it."

Harry did his best not to blush at the praise and instead turned to Filius who was next to hand out the presents, but he couldn't help but feel proud that he had impressed the group of accomplished wizards. Even if he had yet to master the Patronus Charm, he was pleased with the progress he had made in only a few months.

END

Chapter Text

Authors Notes

Hey everyone! So before I talk about the chapter below, I just wanted to respond to something that I have received many messages about. I understand there is another long-form fiction that has recently gained popularity about a 'blind Harry', but to be clear I do not think they have stolen or used any of my storylines or ideas. If you read some of the chapters you will see that the other story is very different from mine and will most assuredly diverge more and more as we go on.

I'm very grateful to everyone who messaged me about it, but please do not worry, after all there is nothing new under the sun, and I am not the first person to write about a 'blind Harry'.

So here is another chapter for you all, I struggled with this one as it is mostly an update on the state of various characters and a beginning to bringing all the side storylines together. I hope you all like it, but any corrections or suggestions are appreciated. Please continue to Follow, Favourite and Review as it really does help give me the motivation to keep going!

Reviews

disestablishmentaria - You are very welcome, thank you for reading and I hope you keep enjoying it!

Jennifer Crone - I will give it a try!

hypponymus - Thank you very much, I'm glad you like the characters. I'm very proud of my OC's and the changes I've made to the existing characters.

death390 - Thanks for letting me know, I will check that and fix soon!

griffin blackwood - Thank you very much, I always look forward to seeing your reviews!

littleemberlou - Thank you very much for your kind words and I am glad you are still enjoying the story! I love writing the moments between Harry and his ersatz family and I'm glad you liked the Sirius saving Katie moment, I was particularly proud of that!

Chapter 30

The Winter Break passed relatively quickly after Christmas Day for Harry, he spent the days after working on an essay on the properties of Ashwinder Eggs for Potions, a translation for Ancient Runes and in the evenings, he read through more of De La Rue's book. He was the only third year Ravenclaw who had stayed for the break and he did miss the background noise that the others made in the Dorm room, but the gentle patter of rain on the windows was soothing in its own way.

On the last day before the rest of the school was due to return, Harry was pleased to find Kyrre had returned from visiting Aunt Petunia. She carried no letter but when she alighted on the table a brief impression of one of his aunt's hugs whispered across his mind. He smiled and offered the Hrafn a rasher of bacon which she took gratefully, hopping closer to him to eat.

"Cor she's grown again!" Hagrid's earthshaking footsteps spilled some of the water from Harry's goblet but the Ravenclaw smiled and turned to face the Groundskeeper.

"Hey Hagrid, yes I think I might have to get a new perch for her soon." Harry ran a finger along the feathers atop Kyrre's head and let her preen under the attention. "Of course, it could be because someone has been leaving out Dragon liver for her."

"Well tha' could jus' be someone throwin' out cuts that ain' no good anymore." Hagrid blustered with a shrug but Harry chuckled at the fib and the Groundskeeper shuffled closer and extended one of his large fingers to the magical bird. "I've been readin' up on some of the stories 'bout these Hrafn, reckon they were the insp'ration for Odin's birds apparently."

"Huh that makes sense I guess, his ravens were meant to be spies and messengers, right?" Translating and using Ancient Runes required a basic knowledge of the cultures and times that the runic languages came from, so Harry had read up on the Aesir and Vanir of Norse religion for the Futhark runes. They were interesting myths, though some were fairly obviously about real magical beasts that had become twisted through time and retelling.

"Aye summat like that, bu' I found somethin' pretty excitin' for next lesson with you while I was lookin' into it." Hagrid gave one more gentle stroke to the top of Kyrre's head before he straightened and began to walk out of the hall. "You jus' wait Harry!"

Harry would deny it if asked, but he felt a definite shiver run down his spine at the thought of what Hagrid would find 'exciting'.

Sirius Black was used to the cold. Twelve years in a bare stone cell in the North Sea had left his body accustomed to the bite of ice in his bones. But just because he was used to it didn't mean he enjoyed it.

The Scottish Highlands were relentless, smothered under a thick blanket of white. After a week straight of snow, his resolve wavered. He had succumbed to temptation and cast a Warming Charm—one feeble spell, barely enough to melt the frost that clung to his matted hair. But it was enough.

The Dementors found him within the hour.

The first whisper of their presence curled through the air like a creeping frost, their dreadful pull sending a shudder down his already freezing spine. And where Dementors went, Aurors followed. It left him with one option: run.

Sirius tore through the snowdrifts, pushing through banks of white that rose as high as his hips. He risked a glance behind him, up the mountain to where his old hiding place was, just in time to see a faint dot of light appear above a handful of red-cloaked figures. With a muttered curse he kept running, he couldn't risk any magic so close to the Dementors especially with Auror's nearby. He fancied his chances against most of them one-on-one but there were a few who could give him trouble, and if they were in a group he wasn't too proud to admit he would lose. Probably.

Panting, he ran until his lungs burned, until his limbs screamed in protest. A half-mile down the mountain, he spotted a stream. Wide. Deep enough for his needs. Without hesitation, he plunged in.

"Merlin's balls, that's cold," he gasped, wading forward. "Come on, Sirius. You've dealt with worse." He shook his head and took a few faltering steps before he slipped on the slick stones beneath the surface and fell, just managing to catch himself on his hands before his head would hit the water. He struggled to push himself to his feet but only succeeded in almost toppling over. Sirius closed his eyes and let out a tired sigh, the longer he stayed in the water, the warmer it felt and he was tempted to just lay down in it and sleep. Just for a little while.

"Get up off your knees you useless bastard!"

"Wha-" Sirius blinked open his eyes wearily and sputtered at the sight of his grandfather's face. Floating just beneath the surface of the water, his grandfather Arcturus Black II was scowling at him from beneath a wild mop of dark grey hair. Sirius blinked twice more but each time he opened his eyes, his grandfather's face remained though the longer he looked the more oddities he noticed. Arcturus Black II had never grown a beard let alone the rough wiry scruff he could see, the man had always believed them to be for vagrants and men with weak chins, and he had certainly never let his hair grow so wild and unkempt.

"Oh." Sirius watched as a single tear trailed down the aged face on the water's surface, feeling the same path form on his own weathered skin. "Well at least I look like you and not Father I suppose."

"Well are you just going to stare or are you going to get up? You've got a job to do, so bloody well get on with it." The face of Arcturus Black growled at him and for a moment he could really believe it was his grandfather talking to him.

"You always were a grumpy bastard, glad to see that hasn't changed." Sirius grumbled as he half-crawled through the water, ignoring the numb burning that filled his limbs as he forced his way down the stream until he could no longer feel the water lapping at his arms or legs at all.

On and on he forced his tired and broken body to move, until finally he reached the western edge of the Forbidden Forest's borders and flopped out of the water onto the needle covered ground beneath one of the towering fir trees. He didn't dare look at his body as he felt the comforting oblivion of unconsciousness start to take him, he managed to transform into Padfoot as his vision dimmed and turned to black and he curled up in the roots of the tree.

He would rest and then he would try and get into the castle again. He needed to protect little Harry. He had to make up for his failures.

He had to.

"You sure he was here, Moody?" Yaxley demanded as he stalked out from the cave, his voice sharp and laced with frustration. He raised one hand to shield his face from the cutting wind, while his other clenched his wand so tightly that his knuckles whitened. Behind him, Gawain Robards and Kingsley Shacklebolt methodically scanned the rocky ground, their wands sweeping through the air as they checked for any lingering traces of magic—Apparition signatures, Portkey remnants, anything that might tell them where their fugitive had vanished to.

Alastor Moody stood apart, leaning heavily on his stave, his gaze fixed on the desolate landscape below. Snow had begun to settle on his broad shoulders, but he paid it no mind, the sharp, unnatural swivel of his enchanted eye betraying his ceaseless vigilance.

"Aye, he was here." Moody turned away from the edge and stomped his false leg against the stone, sending a scattering of frost and dust tumbling down the slope. "He'll have headed down the mountain. But with this snowfall—and the Dementors getting here before us—there's no trail left to follow."

"So he got away? Again?!" Yaxley's wand hand twitched, his irritation barely contained and Alastor let his grip tighten around the stave slightly. The Auror Captain had always had suspicions about Yaxley who had made it through the Blood War with no official charges brought against him but plenty of short-lived rumours.

"If the Dementors hadn't raced off without alerting us, we might have been able to track his spell use," Moody growled, his voice rough as the mountain wind. His magical eye spun wildly in its socket, scanning the frozen expanse below. "Bloody things tainted any lingering magic when they got here. Almost as if someone doesn't want him found—and told the Dementors to destroy the evidence."

Yaxley stepped closer, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. "Your paranoia is showing again, old man. That almost sounded like an accusation against the Ministry."

His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in. "But I'll pass the message along to the Minister. I'm sure he'll be very interested to hear your thoughts."

To Yaxley, Moody didn't move, but in the next breath, Yaxley was yanked off balance. His feet scrambled for purchase as a powerful grip latched onto his arm and dragged him toward the edge of the precipice. He barely had time to react before he found himself teetering over the void, his free hand shooting out in desperation to seize the lapel of Moody's thick coat.

The wind roared below them, carving through the valley like a living thing, an endless, hungry abyss waiting for the slightest misstep.

"I don't like you, Yaxley." Moody's voice was low and calm, but there was iron in it, the kind of certainty that came from a man who had seen too much bloodshed to waste words. "I don't like your subtle threats. Never have."

Yaxley struggled, his wand hand useless in Moody's vice-like grip. His boots scraped against the slick stone, his body tilting dangerously as he fought to keep himself from going over the edge.

"I don't do subtle," Moody continued. "No need. When I threaten someone, there's no ambiguity. No chance of misunderstanding."

Yaxley's breath came in short, sharp bursts, his usual arrogant composure utterly shattered. "You mad bastard, let me up!"

Moody held him there a moment longer, letting the reality of his situation sink in, before abruptly yanking him back onto solid ground. Yaxley collapsed onto his hands and knees, gasping for breath, his blond hair falling loose around his face, damp from the snow and sweat of fear.

"Just wanted to make sure you had a good view of the trail," Alastor stepped back and pulled the struggling wizard back up onto the ledge before he let him fall to his knees. "Case you saw anything I missed - old eyes an' all that."

Kingsley and Robards exchanged glances but said nothing, returning to their methodical work. Yaxley had confronted Moody before and while politically he was in a stronger position, politics held little sway in the field.

Yaxley forced himself to his feet, his wand hand shaking ever so slightly as he straightened his robes. His mouth twisted into something that might have been a sneer, but the effect was lost in the lingering tremor of his breath.

"I'll make you regret that, Moody," he spat, though there was no real conviction behind the words.

Moody chuckled, a deep, rasping sound. "Get in line."

With a sharp turn, Yaxley Disapparated, vanishing with a crack that echoed through the icy cliffs.

Moody exhaled slowly, his fingers flexing around his stave. "Come on, lads. Let's see if the bastard left anything useful behind."

Kingsley nodded, his dark eyes scanning the cave with renewed focus. "If he was here, he cleaned up after himself. I've only found some animal droppings."

Moody glanced back down the mountainside once more before turning to follow them inside the narrow cave. The hunt wasn't over yet.

The quiet hum of the Hogwarts Library filled the space between the towering shelves, only occasionally punctuated by the distant sound of a turning page or the scratch of a quill against parchment. Snow still clung to the edges of the high-arched windows, blurring the view of the frostbitten grounds outside. The warmth inside, however, was enough to make one forget the bitter chill of the Scottish winter.

"So how was your Christmas, Harry?" Katie Bell asked as she slipped into the chair opposite him, laying her own book open but clearly ignoring it as she leaned on one arm, looking at him eagerly.

"My Chri—oh, it was nice, thank you," Harry stumbled over his words, his thoughts still tangled in the thick tome on the Goblin Rebellions of the 13th Century. He blinked, dragging his attention away from the endless accounts of battles and grievances to focus on the Gryffindor Chaser who had found him in his quiet corner. "How was yours?"

"Oh, it was great, thanks! We visited Dad's folks and Mum cooked. She's a great cook—she's the one who makes all the food at their café in Diagon Alley. She's really more of a baker, I suppose, but she's still good at a roast. Anyway, we had a turkey, and I got this nice new jumper that's so soft. Oh!" Katie paused mid-ramble and reached into her bag, pulling out a small wrapped box. She slid it across the table towards him. "I forgot to give this to you before I left. I thought about mailing it, but I wanted to give it to you in person."

"Thank you, you didn't have to do that." Harry hesitated before taking the box, guilt creeping in as he realized he hadn't thought to get her anything. His Christmas gift list had always been small but that didn't excuse his oversight.

"It's not just from me. My parents heard about what happened and insisted they should get you something to thank you for... you know." Katie shrugged, her voice warm but slightly shy as she gestured toward the gift. "Go on, then, open it."

Harry carefully peeled back the wrapping paper, revealing a small book with what felt like a leather cover. Running his fingers across the surface, he frowned—it bore no title, but it was undoubtedly enchanted. Pale red and blue threads of magic flickered along the binding, shifting like restless ink. The enchantments tugged at his senses, drawing him in as his fingertips skimmed the surface, feeling for the magic woven into the pages. It was not unlike the enchanted quill Castamir had once given him, though this was both simpler and more complex, more personal. He could tell that two different people had laid magic upon it, one much more experienced than the other.

"It's a journal for you," Katie explained, watching him closely. He lifted his head, frowning slightly in curiosity. "My parents know about your... well, they asked what you might like, and I thought a journal might be handy for your notes and thoughts and stuff. It works like a Dicta-Quill—you just need to open it, keep a finger on the page, and it will record everything you say in Braille. It even has some security charms to keep it safe from anyone being nosy."

Harry turned the book over again, his lips curving into a small smile at the mention of security charms. He recognized the red magic woven through them—flickers of warm orange intertwined with the defensive spells. They were Katie's work. She had cast them herself, and for a fourth-year, they were impressive.

"Thank you, Katie. It's a great gift. And please thank your parents for me." He set the leather-bound journal down beside his history book, trying not to dwell on the unsettling similarities it bore to another enchanted diary he had encountered just a year earlier.

"You're welcome, Harry." Katie hesitated for a moment, as if on the verge of saying something more, but then she slumped slightly and turned her attention to the book she had brought with her.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the occasional turning of a page. Harry attempted to refocus on his own reading, but his mind betrayed him. He traced the same line of Braille five times without absorbing a word. His attention was unshakably drawn to the girl sitting across from him. He felt... a lot of things. Guilt, for not having thought to get her a gift in return. Discomfort, because he didn't feel he deserved the praise or thanks she had given him—surely one of the professors would have caught her if he hadn't acted. Annoyance, with himself, because despite these misgivings, he found himself pleased whenever she managed to corner him in the corridors to say hello, or, as in this case, sit with him in the library. It was too much.

"Would you like to—" "I should get goi—"

Both spoke at once, cutting each other off. Harry felt heat rush to his cheeks and quickly dipped his head, mortified. He had been about to ask if she wanted to walk with him to lunch, but she had clearly been looking for an opportunity to leave.

"Sorry, Harry, what were you going to ask?" Katie tilted her head slightly, standing but not yet moving away.

"No, nothing. I'm just going to keep reading up on this. Binns threatened a test for next week." He ducked his head, pretending to focus on the history book in front of him instead of the older Gryffindor girl whose fiery red magic streaked with warm orange still lingered in his awareness.

"Okay, well, I guess I'll see you later."

Harry nodded, half-raising his hand in farewell as Katie turned to go, stopping briefly to return her book to a nearby shelf. He couldn't help but notice the way she paused, glancing back toward him for the briefest moment before rounding the corner and disappearing from sight. Exhaling softly, he let his senses retract, focusing only on the immediate space around him.

He tried to forget the encounter. Instead, he filled the next three hours with endless Goblin chieftains and their mostly valid reasons for rebelling against the Wizard's Council—and later, the Wizengamot.

"Mutatio Forma"

Harry twisted his wand through a short triangle with a flick to the left at the end, his emerald-green magic flaring as it wrapped around the square block of wood. The transformation rippled through the material, warping its structure until it reshaped into a carved rose, its delicate petals unfurling and splintering thorns jutting from beneath.

"Elephant," Terry suggested from his seat opposite, setting down his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Mutatio Forma"

The carved plant trembled, shrinking momentarily as its petals curled inward. The thorns stretched and thickened, shifting into curved tusks, and the body expanded with broad, rounded limbs. A moment later, a wooden elephant landed on the table with a dull thunk. One of its ears was slightly lopsided, but Harry was still pleased with the result—he had only ever encountered toy elephants as a child.

"What about a badger?" Susan Bones chimed in, leaning over from her seat behind Terry at the Hufflepuff table.

"You would suggest that," Terry muttered, stacking a final sausage onto his breakfast sandwich before lifting it for a bite.

"Mutatio Carna Animatio"

A startled yelp erupted from Terry as his toast twitched. The top layer bulged outward, warping as a ketchup-slicked sausage wriggled free like a burrowing creature. It sprouted clawed paws, scrambling over the toast's surface. The end of the sausage contracted, deforming into a stubby head before it took a swipe at Terry's lingering fingers.

"Oh, mate... that's not right. I can't eat that now," Terry groaned, pushing his plate away as he watched the animated sausage attempt to dig back into the toast, its tiny claws scratching against the plate.

"Wow, Harry, I'm not sure if I'm more impressed or disgusted," Neville remarked, settling into the seat beside Harry and leaning in to inspect the bizarre creature.

"Susan asked for a badger," Harry offered with a straight face as he let the magic unravel, the sausage immediately going limp.

"I think she meant for you to use the wood, but sure," Terry muttered, quickly covering his plate with a spare one before turning back to Harry. "So, you've managed to get it down to just the primary incantations, then?"

"I think so. It's still easier to use the full incantation, but in a pinch, I reckon I can manage with just the forma spell and skip the extra descriptors," Harry explained, spearing a sausage with his fork and taking a bite. "For Transfiguration, anyway—it's so much more rigid than Charms. What about you?"

"Mutatio Forma"

Terry pointed his wand at the wooden elephant, his sky-blue magic flickering around the figurine. The transformation began, but the structure faltered—splinters sprouted along the elephant's surface, uneven and jagged.

"Mutatio Lignum"

This time, Terry's magic sank into the wood smoothly, guiding it with greater ease. The elephant's form rippled as its body lengthened, limbs vanishing as its shape moulded into broad wings. A moment later, an intricately carved eagle perched before them, wings spread in mid-flight.

"You'll get there, mate. It's harder to use the general shape incantation than the material one, but you're getting close," Harry encouraged as Neville nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I suppose," Terry admitted before his smirk turned suspicious. "Now, what's this I hear about you and the Gryffindor Seeker having a tryst in the libra—"

Terry barely got the words out before his mouth filled with thick, foamy bubbles. He spluttered, struggling against the sudden froth, while Neville clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

"If you ever want to taste food again, don't finish that sentence," Harry warned, feeling warmth creeping up his neck.

Terry wilted under the threat, nodding in surrender as the soap bubbles began to subside. Susan, however, scoffed before abruptly turning away from their table. Hannah Abbot placed an arm around her shoulders, though for what reason, Harry wasn't sure.

"Harry, mate," Neville finally said, still chuckling, "for one of the nicest people I know, you can be scary sometimes."

"He'll be fine," Harry replied, tucking his wand away. "The taste will fade in a few minutes, and he'll be back to inhaling bacon like normal."

As the clocktower tolled, he stood and stretched. "I've got a lesson with Professor Lupin now. We still on for tea at Hagrid's this afternoon?"

"Yeah, actually, that reminds me—I promised to bring him some mature Chomping Cabbages from the greenhouse." Neville frowned, making a mental note as Harry waved a goodbye.

The walk up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was pleasantly quiet. Most students spent their Saturdays in the common rooms or studying, leaving the corridors nearly empty save for the steady tap-tap-tap of Harry's cane against the stone floor. He reached the classroom door and knocked before stepping inside.

"Ah, Harry, excellent timing. Professor Snape was just leaving," Lupin said warmly from his place in front of the desk.

Harry heard the quiet rustle of robes as Professor Snape turned, his usually placid grey magic coiled tightly, tense and unsettled. Without a word, he stalked past Harry, footsteps sharp against the stone. The faint scent of potion ingredients clung to the air in his wake.

Behind the Defense Professor, a smoking goblet hissed gently on the desk. Lupin exhaled tiredly and gestured for Harry to approach.

"My apologies, Harry. Professor Snape and I have been having a... minor disagreement."

Lupin picked up the goblet and drained its contents in one swift motion, wincing as he set the empty vessel down. He took a deep breath before giving Harry a small, reassuring smile. "Right, are you ready?"

Harry nodded, gripping his wand as Lupin walked over to the familiar battered chest against the wall. With a flick of his wand, the lock clicked open, and the lid creaked as the Boggart stirred inside.

The moment it emerged, the air turned ice-cold, and tendrils of shadow curled outward. A Boggart-Dementor loomed before him, even the patchwork mockery of a humanoid form was imitated, though the visceral dread that it provoked in Harry was greatly reduced.

In

Out

"Expecto Patronum!"

Harry's emerald magic flared, and a bright oval shield burst into existence before him, the misty protection resolute against the dark entity. The Boggart recoiled, its sinister presence held at bay as the shield burned brilliantly, and far more steadily than the Patronus he had conjured against the real Dementors at Christmas. For a brief moment, he swore something within the light was trying to push outward—something with form—but then the Boggart-Dementor faltered, twisting back into the chest as Lupin snapped it shut.

Harry exhaled sharply, his arms trembling as he dropped the spell. His legs felt weak, and he sagged slightly from the exertion.

Lupin placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "That was extraordinary, Harry. I doubt any other student below sixth year could make half the progress you have." The weary professor turned to look at the chest and shook his head incredulously. "Truly you should be proud of yourself."

Harry nodded, pleased but frustrated. He still couldn't bring forth a corporeal Patronus.

Lupin sighed. "With the full moon a week away, I'll have to postpone further lessons until after I've recovered. But don't be discouraged—you're closer than you think."

As Harry left, he felt both accomplished and unsatisfied. He was improving, but not enough. Not yet. Not with the monsters waiting at the gates for their next chance.

END

Chapter Text

Authors Notes

Hello everyone, I hope you all are well. Thank you for sticking with me, someone pointed out that it’s been two and a half years since I started this story and I am shocked I’m still getting new readers.

Truly, thank you all and please continue to read, review, favourite and follow as this is the main way I can track how many people are reading and enjoying the story!

Reviews

Ellie.Cast4 – Thank you for reviewing. I’m glad you like the OC’s and older crew! Yes this story diverges steadily more and more the further we get from the origin point. The ‘waves’ rippling out will grow larger and larger I promise, but some of the plans and plots involved have been in the works for years and, even with Harry’s changes, aren’t going to be affected as much affected as much yet. Lucius is a cunning man, he knows the laws of Magical Britain very well and wields immense influence. We are seeing him in the few moments where his control slips or is let loose intentionally, but to most of the wider world he is a respected businessman, member of the Wizengamot and philanthropist. Much like in the Muggle World, with enough money and influence comes a degree of immunity from most crimes or investigations.

DarkRavie – Thank you I’m glad you like it!

Killerpickle – Yes I do need to go back and make some changes to tidy up the early chapters, I will likely take a break at some point to do so but for now I’m trying to progress the story up to at least Year 4 before I do.

Fancyspinner – Thank you very much, I am very glad you like it! I am not visually impaired (beyond needing glasses) but I have a very close friend who I have known since we were young who is almost entirely blind and they have helped with the depiction of Harry in this story to keep it ‘faithful’ as best as I could.

Chapter 31

The walk down from the Castle to Hagrid’s hut was a familiar one to Harry, a well-trodden path winding past the sloping lawns and the edge of the Forbidden Forest. But today, the ice-slicked cobbles made it treacherous, each step requiring careful footing as his cane tapped over the uneven stones. The cold was sharp and merciless, a biting wind slipping through the gaps in his scarf to nip at his skin. Even wrapped in the thick new coat and scarf he had received for Christmas, the chill burrowed deep, eager to gnaw at any exposed patch of skin.

Finally, his boots crunched against the frozen grass in front of Hagrid’s hut, and he rapped his knuckles against the heavy wooden door, leaning slightly on his cane as he waited. This was his third visit in the past week to the groundskeeper’s cabin, but Hagrid was happy to have them down and escaping from the hustle and bustle of the Castle was a blessed relief, even if it was only for a few hours.

The door swung open with a familiar creak, and a wave of blissful heat rolled out, carrying with it the scent of damp earth, tea, and the faint musk of Fang’s fur.

“Come in quick, before yeh freeze out there!” Hagrid’s booming voice was warm with welcome, and before Harry could step inside, a heavy mass of fur collided with his legs, a series of deep, excited barks vibrating through the air.

“Yes, yes, hello Fang,” Harry murmured, tugging off his gloves and reaching down to scratch behind the boarhound’s floppy ears. The dog’s tail thumped against the floor enthusiastically, his head leaning into the scratches with an eager whine.

“Go on, let ‘im breathe, Fang,” Hagrid chuckled as he moved across the room, his heavy footsteps making the floorboards groan. The clink of metal followed as he lifted the iron kettle from above the fire and poured steaming liquid into a chipped mug. The rich scent of lemon and honey filled the air, mingling with the warmth of the fire. “Here y’go, Harry, warm yerself up.”

Harry took the offered mug, wrapping his chilled hands around the ceramic as the warmth seeped into his fingers. He took a slow sip, the heat spreading down his throat, comforting and sweet.

Harry had tried Hagrid’s own blend of tea before and, unlike the half-giant's rock cakes which he maintained could be used to construct a Castle on their own, it was a delicious drink and perfect for winter days.

“Looks like Longbottom an’ Boot are on their way down now,” Hagrid remarked, peering out of the slightly frosted window. He set down his own cup with a grunt and moved to open the door. A gust of icy wind swept into the hut as two sets of hurried footsteps crunched against the frozen ground.

“’Ello gents, make sure yeh knock the snow off yer boots, Boot!”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head as Terry groaned. Hagrid had made the same joke on their last two visits and was clearly quite pleased with himself.

“Yeah, yeah, you got any of that tea going, Hagrid?” Terry asked as he stomped the snow off his shoes and shuffled closer to the fire, rubbing his hands together briskly. “My nose feels like it’s gonna fall off any second.”

“I left the Chomping Cabbages outside, Hagrid, though I’m not sure Madam Sprout will let me take any more. This is the third sack since last week,” Neville added as he unwound his thick, oversized scarf, his breath still clouding in the lingering chill. “They like the cold, so they should be fine until you have a chance to use them, but you’ll have to ask her for more.”

“Much ‘preciated, Neville, don’ worry about Pomona, I’ll sort it.” Hagrid rumbled, pouring two more cups and handing them over. He settled heavily into his oversized armchair with a contented sigh, Fang immediately flopping down at his feet. “So, ‘ow’s classes goin’?”

“Not too bad. Potions is still rough. I swear Snape has gotten grumpier somehow,” Terry muttered as he wrapped his hands around his mug. He gestured vaguely in Harry’s direction. “Harry knows what I mean.”

Harry simply took another sip of tea, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, though he did think Terry had a point. Snape’s temper had seemed particularly short this year, and Harry had a good idea why.

Snape had always coveted the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, but once again, Dumbledore had passed him over—this time, for a werewolf. And on top of that, Snape had been roped into brewing the Wolfsbane Potion and even covering one of Lupin’s lessons when he was too ill to teach. It was no surprise that the Potions Master was more irritable than usual. Harry couldn’t exactly blame him.

“Pr’fessor Snape, Terry,” Hagrid corrected firmly, fixing the Ravenclaw with a pointed look. “An’ he ain’t that bad. Fang ‘ere ate some bad mushrooms in the forest, he would’ve died if Pr’fessor Snape didn’t brew ‘im an antidote. I didn’t even ‘ave to ask, he just brought it down the next day. He might not be the friendliest bloke, but he’s a good ‘un.”

Terry frowned, clearly unconvinced, but at a subtle shake of Harry’s head, he let it go with a scoff, instead focusing on his tea.

The conversation shifted when Neville perked up and asked if anyone had heard about the Weasley twins’ latest prank on Filch.

“I heard from Angelina that they jinxed his mop and bucket to always move after he put them down,” Neville recounted with a grin. “Not far or anything, just a couple feet. Filch spent a whole day chasing them around, shouting about Peeves until Professor McGonagall checked them. Only, the second she did, the second part of the jinx triggered. Everywhere he’d already mopped—” Neville paused for dramatic effect, “—turned red and gold!”

For a heartbeat, there was silence.

Then Terry cracked first, a sharp bark of laughter escaping before he could stop it. Hagrid’s deep, rumbling chuckle followed, shaking his massive shoulders, and Harry gave in to his own quiet laughter. The mental image of Filch discovering a corridor plastered in Gryffindor colours was too good. Though, his House pride argued, it would have been just as funny in blue and silver.

Three more cups of tea and a round of (mercifully underbaked) rock cakes later, the warmth had thoroughly chased away the winter chill. Hagrid glanced toward the window as the shadows outside lengthened, his expression suddenly shifting.

Fang let out a low, uneasy whine, his massive head dropping to his paws as he buried his snout beneath them.

Hagrid straightened in his chair, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he peered out through the frost-rimmed glass.

“What is it?” Harry asked, setting down his empty cup as he instinctively reached for his cane.

Hagrid didn’t answer immediately. Staring out in silence for several long breaths.

“Not sure,” the half-giant murmured at last, his thick brows knitting together in concentration. He absently scratched at his tangled beard before pushing himself to his feet with a grunt, the floorboards groaning under his weight. His dark eyes remained fixed on the frost-rimed window, his broad shoulders tense. “Jus’... thought I saw somethin’ movin’ out by the tree line.”

Harry shifted, fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of his mug.

“What do you think it wa—” Terry began, but before he could finish, a sharp clatter echoed through the cabin.

The noise sent a jolt through all four of them. Neville flinched so violently that he nearly sloshed tea over himself, while Terry let out a muffled curse. Harry had his wand in his hand before he had time to consider it as he ran through the forms for various defensive spells in his mind, preparing their shapes and incantations in case he needed them.

A moment of charged silence passed, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

Then—

“Oh, tha’ bloody rat!” Hagrid bellowed, the tension snapping like a twig as he stomped across the room toward the small kitchen area.

Harry exhaled slowly, his pulse still hammering against his ribs, as Hagrid yanked open one of the worn wooden cupboards. Inside, among a jumble of mugs and plates, a small glass jar lay tipped on its side, its contents spilled across the shelf. Halfway inside the jar, frozen mid-scurry, a rat twitched its whiskers, its beady black eyes darting about in panic.

“Damn thing’s been scurryin’ through my cupboards since before Christmas!” Hagrid grumbled, reaching in with a massive hand.

The rat let out a desperate squeak and tried to flee, but Hagrid’s fingers closed around it with surprising gentleness, scooping up both the creature and the half-empty jar it had been pillaging. He carried them back to his chair, settling down with a heavy thud that sent dust drifting from the rafters.

With a deftness that belied his size, Hagrid plucked the rat from his fist with two thick fingers, holding it up for inspection. The creature squirmed wildly, its small claws scrabbling at the air, its pink nose twitching frantically as if already planning its escape.

 It took a moment for Harry to notice it, but deep beneath the normal brown and grey that ordinary rats were made up of, a dense ball of magic, murky green and dark yellow, buried deep beneath the surface. It was tiny, but present, a sign of some enchantment or magic that the rat possessed perhaps.

“Wait a sec— that’s Ron’s rat!” Neville exclaimed, his voice filled with sudden recognition. He scoffed and shook his head. “He’s been moaning about that thing for months! Then it disappeared before Christmas, and he thought Hermione’s cat killed it. They had a huge fight in the common room about it.”

Hagrid blinked down at the wriggling rodent. “This scruffy thing? Yeh sure, Neville?”

“You sure it’s Weasley’s?” Terry asked sceptically, leaning away from the squirming creature with a faint grimace. “Could just be some random rat. There are loads of them in the Castle.”

“I mean, it looks the same,” Neville said, leaning in for a closer examination. The rat kicked and thrashed in Hagrid’s grip, baring its yellowed teeth, but Neville squinted, his gaze sharp. Then his expression brightened, and he sat back with a triumphant nod. “Yep. Weasley’s rat was missing a toe. Same toe, same paw. What are the odds of that being another rat?”

“I think he’s right Terry, Neville told me about it before Christmas and it’s pretty unlikely there are two rats missing the same toe, and this one showed up just after it went missing.” Harry twisted his cane in his hands as he tried to figure out what thought was itching at the back of his mind.

“Well, yeh can giv’ it back to ‘im then, Neville,” Hagrid declared, brushing the crumbs from his vest. He tipped the remaining candied fruit from the jar into his enormous palm, stuffing them into one of his many deep pockets before dropping the rat into the now-empty container.

The rat immediately began to scratch and scrabble at the glass, its tiny claws making faint but frantic taps against the surface.

“Lucky me.” Neville snorted as he took the offered jar and set it down next to his chair, keeping it trapped between his foot and the chair leg. “Actually it’s getting pretty late, we should probably head back soon or we’ll miss dinner.”

“Oh righ’ you are, I need to go check on the foal anyway.” Hagrid slapped his knees and shrugged on his signature heavy coat that could double as a three-man tent.

The three third-year boys all wrapped up in preparation for the frigid Scottish air and moved to the door as Hagrid reached down and grabbed the oversized axe that leaned beside it. The enchanted metal scraped against the floorboards, deepening the groove made by years of abuse as Hagrid let it sit against his shoulder and opened the door to let the cold wash through the hut.

The fire crackled defiantly as Harry gave Fang a final pat before he stepped out into the cold evening and immediately drew his wand, the temperature had dropped well below freezing and he could have kicked himself for not thinking of a Warming Charm sooner.

While the Warming Charm covered in second year required the caster to point their wand in the direction they wanted heat, there was an alternative spell that provided light as well and Harry much preferred it. While it was only supposed be cast inside or onto an object, Harry had long since learned that adapting spells was perfectly possible with enough experimentation and the right intent behind the casting.

“Tutus Flagram”

Harry looped his wand above his head several times in great circles leaving a spiral of flickering blue flames that fell gently around him. The spiralling chain of gentle bluebell fire slowly floated around him, shedding warmth and light in equal measure, and although the latter didn’t help him much, he assumed his friends would be grateful for both.

“Oh that is brilliant mate.” Terry cheered as he stepped close enough to brush against the flames and enjoy their gently heat, enough to ward off the worst of the bitter chill but not enough to burn.

“Good thinking Harry.” Neville added as he stepped up to the other side, though not quite as close, with his scarf once more secured around his neck and shoulders.

“Oh you do remin’ me of your mum sometimes ‘Arry.” Hagrid said as he closed the door and turned away with a sniff as he rubbed at his face before he turned back to them. “Brilliant, the lo’ of ya. Now get up to the Castle and out of this cold, I'm gonna take these cabbages out for the foal.”

 The trio waved goodbye to Hagrid as he disappeared into the forest, a shifting sack filled with Chomping Cabbage’s in one hand and his axe in the other. Harry doubted anything in the forest would bother him, but he pitied anything that did.

“Come on then, before this rat gives up the ghost and I have to explain to Ron that it really is dead.” Neville jiggled the jar in his hand gently to show the rat in question had fallen silent and worryingly still. “It’s still breathing, think it might have passed out from the shock.”

Harry nodded and the three of them began the long walk up to the Castle, Harry directed the lower loop of the bluebell flames to lead the way and melt the worst of the snow and ice away for them. The cobblestones were still slick, but with the aid of his cane and his sight Harry managed to remain upright as they crested the hill and moved onto the main path that led from the Castle gates to the entrance hall.

They were only a few dozen feet from the doors when the howl echoed out across the clearing, it was distant and came from the direction of the forest behind Hagrid’s cabin but it still caused all of them to freeze for a moment.

All except for the rat, instead of freezing it suddenly jerked into movement so violent that Neville dropped the jar in shock as the rat let out a horrendous screech and began to scamper frantically away from them. The three of them stood in shock as the rat moved down the path, away from the school and through the tall grass in the direction of Hagrid’s hut.

Terry snorted. The sound quickly unravelled into deep, belly-aching laughter, doubling him over as he clutched his side. “Y-your face,” he wheezed between gasps, barely able to form the words. “Oh, M-Merlin, your f-face is a picture right now, mate.”

Neville could only gape in horror, his wide eyes flicking between the shards of glass at his feet and the rapidly disappearing rodent. “I can’t believe I have to tell Ron that I found his rat... and then I lost it.” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Harry, however, had already moved, whipping his wand toward the retreating rat.

“Accio rat!”

Harry whipped his wand in the direction the rodent had run in, trying to pinpoint it in his sight. He watched in shock as the lasso of green magic reached it and then dissipated as it tried to latch on, the spell failing in between breaths.

Terry huffed in mild amusement. “Well, I guess that proves it really is a magical rat,” he remarked, utterly unconcerned. The idea that Harry had simply miscast the spell never even crossed his mind. “You tried, though, mate.”

He turned back toward the castle, but before he could take a step, Harry lifted his cane to block his path, shifting his grip to point toward the fleeing creature. “We can’t just let it run loose. If it gets back into Hagrid’s, it’ll ruin all his food. And Nev will never hear the end of it from Weasley if he doesn’t bring it back.”

Terry groaned, long and drawn-out, but turned his gaze downward toward the wide expanse of snow-covered grounds stretching from the Whomping Willow to the distant edge of the Forbidden Forest. “Oh, come on. It could be anywhere by now.”

“It’s around there, moving left towards the Willow at the moment,” Harry pointed towards the rat that he could still sense bounding across the snow in his awareness, “it's really moving though.”

Harry hadn’t ever fully explained his unique form of Fulgomancy that allowed him to navigate the world, but his close friends knew that his blindness was less of a detriment than it should have been. Even so, Neville and Terry both turned to him with looks of bewilderment as he kept his hand pointed in the direction of the quickly scampering rodent.

“I swear he doesn’t even need that cane,” Terry muttered to Neville. “He just thinks it makes him look all dignified—”

A solid thump to his stomach cut him off.

“I also need it for that,” Harry said evenly, lowering his cane back onto the frozen path as he started down the slope, directing his corona of blue fire to forge a path through the thick snow. “Come on, before it gets to the Willow and we have to explain to Weasley why his rat is a bloody smear on one of its branches.”

Neville stifled a laugh, shoving Terry forward. “Come on, he barely tapped you.”

“Oi! Whose side are you on?” Terry grumbled but followed nonetheless, keeping a wary eye on Harry’s cane as if expecting another well-aimed jab.

The rat was gaining ground, scrabbling desperately toward the Whomping Willow, but before Harry could push himself into a full sprint, something shifted at the periphery of his awareness.

His lips curled into a smirk. There was an easier way to catch the rat.

Bringing two fingers to his lips, he let out a piercing whistle that echoed across the snow, Terry and Neville stumbled to a halt beside him and looked at him in confusion for a moment before they heard an answering cry from above.

The Hrafn landed smoothly on Harry’s shoulder, her dark, oil-slick feathers glistening with hints of deep violet and indigo beneath the flickering torchlight. She butted her beak against his temple, a gesture both affectionate and inquisitive.

A rush of sensation flooded Harry’s mind—not words, but impressions.

Hunger. The thrill of the hunt. The scent of something small and trembling in the grass.

Harry chuckled, reaching up to stroke her chest. “No, it’s not food,” he murmured, voice laced with amusement. “But if you bring it back, I’ll give you some of that dragon jerky you like so much.”

Excitement. Anticipation.

With a powerful flap of her wings, Kyrre launched into the sky, carving through the air like a shadow given form.

The rat must have sensed the danger—it gave a frantic squeal and tried to burrow into the snow.

Too late.

Kyrre struck with the swiftness of a predator, her talons closing around the squirming rodent. The rat let out a terrified screech as she flapped heavily, gaining altitude before banking toward Harry once more.

Terry exhaled, rubbing his arms as he sidled closer to the warmth of the blue fire. “Can’t help but feel bad for the little bastard. If the jar breaking didn’t give it a heart attack, that definitely did.”

Neville snorted. “It’s a magical rat. It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but what kind of magic?” Terry mused, brow furrowing. “It can’t even regrow a toe, but it—”

A howl ripped through the night, closer this time.

It was followed immediately by the sharp, aggressive barks of something large.

The hairs on Harry’s arms prickled.

“What the hell—” Terry whispered.

“Is... is it a werewolf?” Neville asked, his voice barely above a breath.

Terry scoffed, then hesitated. “Well—I mean, it could be. It is a full moon tonight, and, uh... I did read that some werewolves can transform as soon as the sun sets...”

Harry turned a blank stare on him as Neville whimpered. Terry winced. “Right. Not helpful.”

“I’m sure it’s not a werewolf, Neville,” Harry said, as Kyrre landed gracefully in the snow, the rat still struggling in her talons. “Probably just a wild dog.”

Neville let out a shaky exhale and bent to collect the rat, offering Kyrre a grateful pet as he straightened. He turned back toward the castle, clearly eager to put as much distance between himself and the Forbidden Forest as possible.

“Aha yeah you-you're probably right Harry, sorry just all the news about Greyback and everything...”

“And just think how grateful Granger will be when you prove her cat’s innocence,” Terry added, grinning as Neville flushed bright red.

They had barely taken thirteen steps when another howl tore through the night—this time closer, louder.

And a second sound followed—one that made Harry’s blood run cold.

A bellow of anger ... and pain. A bellow that Harry recognised, though he had never heard it so filled with rage.

“Hagrid!”

There was no hesitation, Harry turned on the spot and began to run down the hill towards the Forest and his friend. He stumbled and fell twice, rolling in the snow but he was quick to clamber to his feet both times as he staggered to the edge of the trees.

“If I get eaten Harry, I swear to Merlin I’m gonna haunt you.” Terry threatened as he caught up to his fellow, with Neville only a little way behind.

“You - I thought you were going to go and get a teacher!” Harry tried to frown but his relief at the presence of his friend’s was too great.

“And leave you to get all the glory?” Neville mumbled through his fear through as he stuffed the unconscious rat into his pocket and held his wand out in front of him.

“Well...damn, do either of you have any parchment or something?” Harry asked as he tried to think of a way to get a message to the school, there were some Charms he had read references to but none he had mastered that didn’t require a written message.

When neither of his friends could find so much as a scrap, he sighed and rubbed his face before the answer butted against his leg with her beak. Kyrre had followed him down to the Forest and he could have cheered at her presence as he bent down and ran a finger across her head.

“Kyrre, I need you to find Professor Flitwick, okay?” He closed his useless eyes and focused, trying to project the urgency of the situation. Picturing the Charms Master, picturing his familiar finding the man and leading him down to the Forest as best he could. It took a moment before he felt the warm wave of urgent agreement brush across his mind, and he smiled as the Hrafn took wing and quickly flew in the direction of the Castle.

“Okay,” Harry steeled himself and drew his wand, gripping it in one hand while his other tightened around his cane, but even the familiar warmth of the wood was little comfort as he started to walk deeper into the Forest. “Let’s find Hagrid and get out of here.”

Harry had ventured into the Forbidden Forest many times, but he was almost always with the Groundskeeper who knew the forest intimately. Without him, the near-endless expanse of trees was a far more foreboding location, Harry just hoped he wouldn’t encounter any Acromantula this time.

Another howl ripped through the night. Closer.

They picked up the pace, slipping into a half-run, half-stumble through the uneven terrain. Terry and Neville took turns keeping Harry steady, grabbing his arm when he nearly pitched forward. Their breath was misting in the cold air, each exhale quick and panicked. They moved without words, heading deeper into the dense trees that crowded overhead to block out any moon or starlight that two of them would have appreciated.

Then the sounds of a fight reached them. A muffled crack, something heavy crashing into the ground, a bellow of rage. They skidded to a stop at the crest of a ridgeline, looking down into a clearing below.

A rough circle of wooden stakes formed a makeshift paddock, roughly sixty feet across. A thin stream cut through the centre, the water shimmering even in the darkness.

On one side stood Hagrid. His massive frame was tense, his enchanted axe gleaming as he braced himself like a living fortress. Hagrid’s usually warm brown magic was almost entirely swallowed by the thick branches of dark blue that extended from his torso down each limb and as he raised the axe the blue magic thrummed like a string being plucked. Behind him, curled on the frozen ground, was a creature that looked like a deer, but was too… otherworldly to be ordinary. It shimmered with magic in every shade of blue Harry had ever seen, it's very presence sinking into the earth like roots.

And then, opposite them—

Harry’s breath hitched.

Fenrir Greyback.

Even without the transformation, the man was more beast than human. His body was twisted into a predatory crouch, one arm braced against the ground, yellowed claws digging into the frozen dirt. He was nothing but wiry muscle and corded sinew, his grizzled beard stained with something dark, his body burning with the unholy mix of colours that only Harry could see—sickly grey, dripping amber, bloody red. The Werewolf was not transformed – yet, but already stood hunched with one hand braced on the forest floor as he stared across at the half-giant.

Harry had half a thought of trying to sneak up on the Werewolf while he was preoccupied by Hagrid, but the partly formed plan died quickly when Fenrir raised his head and spoke in a gravelly rasp.

“I know you’re here, Potter.” A deep and audible sniff came from the hunched man followed by a low chuckle. “I can smell you. Smell your fear. Come on out boy, and I’ll let the others live.”

The rasp of Greyback’s voice scraped against Harry’s senses like a rusted blade and he couldn’t hide the flinch as he pressed himself against the rough bark of the tree atop the ridge. Harry barely heard Hagrid’s response, the half-giant’s voice an urgent roar.

“WHA-DON’ LISTEN TO ‘IM HARRY! RUN BACK TO THE CASTLE, GE’ DUMBLEDORE!” Hagrid shouted as he kept his eyes on the monster before him. “I CAN TAKE CARE O’ THIS MUTT!”

“Mate that’s Greyback!” Terry whispered harshly as he peeked out from behind the ancient tree the three of them were huddled behind atop the ridge. “We should go, like now!”

Neville didn’t voice his agreement, but Harry could feel the Gryffindor trembling slightly beside him as he kept a firm a grip on his wand.

“Oh no don’t listen to the coward, Potter. You managed to defeat me once before, didn’t you?” Greyback called out from the clearing below and Terry stiffened, whether in fright or fury at being called a coward, Harry wasn’t sure.

“If I come down, you’ll let the others go?” Harry called, forcing his voice to remain steady as he gestured for Terry and Neville to calm when both whirled on him ready to argue his ‘sacrifice’.

“Aye, I’ll let them go. I want only you tonight.” Greyback barely finished his answer before a roar shook the clearing.

Needles and loose snow scattered down from the trees as Hagrid launched across the stream with his axe aloft, bringing the bewitched steel down towards Greyback in an arc of quicksilver that carved into the man’s shoulder with a sickeningly wet crunch. The three students hiding behind the tree stared in shock as Greyback let out an anguished scream of pain that only grew as Hagrid tugged the axe free from Greyback’s body, casting blood across the clearing in a wide spray. The sound was wrong—hoarse, pained, furious.

“GO HAGRID!” Terry cheered as Greyback fell to the floor, his screams only growing louder and hoarser as Hagrid stepped closer and raised the axe again for another swing.

Greyback’s screams—those awful, ragged sounds of pain—began to shift. They became laughter.

Low and breathless at first.

Then louder.

And hidden beneath the terrible, rasping mirth—

The sound of bones snapping.

Only Harry noticed the change, and not in time to prevent what happened next. What had once been screams had shifted, now a wild laughter. Harry opened his mouth to warn Hagrid, but he was too slow.

An arm that had been broken straightened, then lengthened, claws twisting and blackening at the tips. His shoulders rolled with an audible pop as his spine stretched, ribs distending. The axe came down again, but Greyback was already lurching forward, his too-long arm slamming into Hagrid’s leg. The half-giant stumbled, thrown off-balance as the axe bit deep into the frozen dirt instead of flesh.

Then a leg that bent the wrong way lashed out and kicked Hagrid backwards, sending him tumbling with it’s unnatural strength. His massive form crashed into the ground with a force that shook the trees, his axe skidding away into the darkness.

The laughter lessened as the cracking and tearing of a body transforming into something else slowed and stopped. For a moment only the heavy panting of an animal could be heard.

The howl that came after was sudden and caused Harry’s heart to pound in his chest, like the organ itself was trying to escape the creature down below. The sound ripped through the night. It dwarfed the earlier howls, like a distant thunderclap compared with an earthquake. This was the call of a predator that had no equal under the light of the Full Moon.

Two more howls rose in answer, each a lesser echo but still terrifying. Neither was close – yet.

Rising onto its hindlegs, the Beast of Britain, stood as tall as Hagrid. Greyback’s skull cracked and shifted, the snout extending with gleaming teeth bared in a hungry growl as the transformation finished to reveal the monster that had terrorised Europe for decades.

“Well shit.” Terry stated, surprisingly calmly, as Greyback dropped down to all fours and began to pace towards the ridge and their hiding place.

“Sh-shouldn’t we be running?” Neville asked, though he made no move to leave the shadow of the old oak they were huddled behind.

“It’s a werewolf, Nev, you’d have more luck outrunning a Bludger.” Terry chuckled darkly. “End result would probably be the same though.”

Harry tipped his head back against the bark and let out a shaky breath. He couldn’t believe he had managed to wander into a life-threatening situation – again. Although, as he thought back on it, what else had he expected when he ran headlong into the Forest after hearing Hagrid in pain?

A distant groan from the paddock reminded him that Hagrid was still down there, he could see that the half-giant was trying to stand in his awareness, but he was clearly injured as his leg failed to hold weight. Werewolves could wield incredible strength when transformed, Harry had known this from the books, but it was a very different thing to witness such power in the flesh.

“Mate, you got a plan?” Terry nudged his shoulder gently, the boy was aiming for casual but Harry could hear the fear in his voice and the faint tremor that ran through him as the sound of Greyback’s heavy panting grew louder.

For a string of heartbeats Harry said nothing. A part of his mind was frozen in fear, but another part was eagerly summoning every scrap of knowledge he possessed on Werewolves, trying to pair them with spells and enchantments he had read about to form some semblance of a plan. It was the same part of him that, instead of turning and fleeing in the face of a Basilisk, tried to defeat it with wand and word. The same part that when standing against an undead Dark Lord, resisted out of sheer stubborn defiance instead of accepting defeat that should have been obvious.

The same part that refused to roll over and die, even in the face of a true monster.

Sirius Black had been very pleased with himself. It had taken patience—more than he thought he possessed—but he had finally managed to snag a timetable from a third-year. A Ravenclaw this time. The discovery that his godson was not a Gryffindor had been a shock at first, but that had quickly given way to pride. From what he had been able to overhear, the boy was something of a prodigy, he had inherited Lily’s precision with Charms and James’s effortless skill in Transfiguration. Prongs would be proud.

He had been pleased to find that Harry was studying Care of Magical Creatures, the lessons were commonly held in the Forest or at least on the outskirts of it and that was when he would make his move. Hagrid would be a danger, but if he was quick enough, he could grab the boy and get away. He was sure of it. He could take the boy somewhere safe and explain everything.

Apologise for his failings.

His temporary den lay on the eastern edge of the Forest, an abandoned badger sett nestled beneath the thick roots of two trees. It was a risk, everything was a risk, but the Acromantula were at war with the Centaurs again. They were focused on the northern reaches of the Forest. He had made sure to stay far away from their territory, staying close to the Eastern edge of the Forest near the Thestral herd.

He had settled in to sleep when he heard the first howl. It was a sound he was intimately familiar with. A sound that should have brought back happy memories, but each one was tainted by the droopy, pale face of the traitor.

The second howl was louder and followed by a pained shout that had him crouching in the entrance of the den, nestled between the roots of two trees. He had almost decided to return to his attempts at rest when he heard the shout.

The voice was unmistakeable, but it was the words that lit a fire beneath his paws. There was always a possibility it was a different ‘Harry’ that Hagrid was shouting to, but he couldn’t take the chance.

He burst from the tunnel, bounding between trees and over roots as he raced in the direction of the shout. The pained scream forced him to move faster, pushing his body to its limits as he heard the howl of a Werewolf fully transformed, followed by two more from deeper in the Forest.

His muscles burned, but he didn’t slow. He couldn’t slow. He leapt over a stream and followed it’s path, he could see shapes in the distance, between the trees and he could hear the heavy breathing of a predator nearby.

For a moment he was a teenager again, racing alongside Prongs as they followed Moony through the Forest. Exploring and playing among the ancient trees. Finding secrets that no one else had. Paths and places that had never been recorded.

But the past was dead and gone, and the present sank its claws into him—

A sudden shift in the undergrowth.

A warning snarl tore from his throat just as something lunged from the shadows.

Sirius ducked just in time to avoid a heavy clawed hand that swiped through the air where his head had been a heartbeat earlier. He let out a low growl as the rest of the creature dragged itself over the fallen trunk that had hidden it, twisted limbs moving with jerky, unnatural motions. Its body was wrong. The transformation unfinished.

Patchwork tufts of coarse fur poked through its pale skin, pulled too taught across it’s body so that its ribs and hip bones protruded unnaturally. Claws tipped its elongated limbs, the fingers and toes all too long and thin but clearly possessing an unnatural strength as it splintered the wood beneath it. The head was misshapen, the lower jaw had elongated but the upper jaw and face had only shifted partially to form a mockery of a canine snout.

Sirius recognised it immediately. A Muggle, on its first Full Moon. If it survived the transformation it would live to be a Werewolf, but few did as the trauma of the Curse was usually enough to kill them before the night ended. During their first transformation they were weaker than a fully-fledged Werewolf, but still a danger to the unprepared and, unlike a normal Werewolf they would attack anything with a pulse. The Curse twisted the mind and drove them into a bloodlust, caring little for spreading their infection they just wanted to cause pain.

Greyback had used the tactic in the past, biting the poor Muggles who couldn’t defend themselves and then using them as fodder on their first Full Moon. Sometimes he had even left them in their homes, unwitting monsters waiting for a Full Moon when they would transform and wreak bloody havoc through their towns until the Aurors could stop them.

Another clawed arm slashed out towards him and he danced backwards to avoid it before he leapt forward. His teeth found flesh and he ripped, letting crimson flow freely. Blood, hot and metallic, flooded his tongue. The pained whine from above almost made him hesitate, but he had failed once before by trying to be the ‘good guy’. He wouldn’t do so again.

The beast stumbled backward, half-heartedly swiping at him with its elongated arms, trying to ward him off. But Padfoot gave no quarter. He was not a man in that moment. He was hunger and instinct. He was death given form.

The Grim latched onto the creature’s arm and crushed down. Bone splintered between his jaws, a sharp crack that sent a violent tremor through the struggling beast. He bore down, dragging it to the floor.

A clawed hand slashed at his side but he ignored the feeble effort and shifted quickly to its head, pinning it with his forelegs to expose the pale neck, its spine protruding painfully through the flesh.

Sirius steeled himself as the Werewolf beneath him was replaced by another for a brief moment, but he had a job to do and he would not fail again. He closed his eyes and bit down. The struggle ended in an instant. The body beneath him twitched once, then stilled.

The only mercy he could provide.

In.

Harry felt the shape of the spell fill his mind, it wasn’t a particularly complicated piece of magic but he had never cast it on the kind of scale he was planning and a part of him feared he would fail. That part was all but drowned out by the magic hammering through his body.

Out.

“Mutatio Lignum!”

With an internal apology to the tree, Harry stabbed his wand into it. The bark split like butter before a hot knife as he felt his arm vibrate from the magic he was channelling into the centuries-old oak.

A deep, guttural groan rumbled from within the trunk, like the waking breath of something vast and forgotten. The soil around his feet heaved, twisting in protest as unseen roots stirred from their ancient slumber. Terry and Neville took several worried steps away from the unsteady earth and even the monstrous creature climbing the slope on the other side of the tree took a moment to secure it’s footing before it continued it’s ascent.

“Harry,” Terry shouted as he staggered back further to avoid the cracks that were spreading from the base of the oak outwards. “he’s getting closer!”

Harry gave no sign of hearing the warning as he focussed his mind on the spell he was weaving into the tree, reaching—pushing—sending his magic deeper, feeling it spiral down through the gnarled, age-old roots and stretch upward, spiralling through the towering limbs of the oak. Only when he could feel every inch of the tree through the spell did he let the last of the spell snap into place.

“Animato.”

He whispered the last word as he let his wand slip free of the trunk, pieces of bark flaking off with it as the ground lurched.

The Werewolf stopped again, sinking it’s claws into the ground to avoid being sent tumbling down.

Had it known what would come next, it might have allowed itself to fall and avoid the pain.

The ground exploded.

The great trunk of the oak toppled forward, its ancient, sprawling limbs twisting and weaving together as though guided by unseen hands. Thick branches bent inward, entwining into powerful limbs, bark fusing over them like muscle and sinew. A sound like cracking thunder split the air as the roots beneath Harry’s feet tore free, joining in the metamorphosis, twisting and curling together to form a massive, hunched frame.

The earth heaved as the new form landed—not on roots, but on four enormous, bark-covered limbs.

It stood there, towering over the werewolf—a guardian of oak and thorn.

Twigs and budding leaves knitted together to form the rough semblance of a head, a jagged maw lined with splintered wood. The rippling bark down its back resembled fur, though in the barest, most primal sense. Harry had not envisioned a particular shape when he had poured his magic into the tree, but as it rose to its full, impossible height, he realized—

It was a bear.

Or something like one.

A beast of twisted wood and living magic, its frame groaning with each motion, its form bound by the will that had shaped it.

"Merlin’s beard…" Neville whispered from behind Harry as Terry made a strangled sound.

The enchanted creature took one massive, thundering step forward, the earth trembling beneath its weight as it descended the slope. Its makeshift claws gouged deep furrows into the dirt, its massive head tilting toward the enemy it had been summoned to fight.

A deep, hollow growl rumbled from within the wooden beast’s form, the creaking and snapping of shifting branches merging into a sound that rattled the surrounding trees. Greyback snarled in reply, lips peeling back to reveal yellowed fangs dripping with saliva. He reared up, looming tall despite his hunched, bestial posture, every sinew and tendon tightening with raw, feral power. This was no ordinary werewolf—this was Fenrir Greyback, the beast that had haunted the nightmares of wizardkind for decades.

Then, with a roar, the Werewolf leapt forward to slam into the transfigured guardian and the impact was thunderous.

Greyback slammed into the tree-guardian’s towering form, and the transfigured oak buckled beneath the force. Clawed hands ripped into its bark-bound form, teeth tore through knotted wood as though it were mere parchment. Splinters flew like shrapnel as the werewolf ripped into the guardian, shredding chunks of transfigured oak and sending them crashing to the ground below.

Harry let out a small breath as the Werewolf poured its hatred out onto the transfigured oak, he could almost feel each blow across his own body. Each slash and bite, a featherlight caress on his skin that carried with it a promise of pain.

“Come on,” Harry turned to Neville and Terry who were both stood frozen in shock, or fear. “We need to get Hagrid and go!”

Harry’s urging broke the two boys from their stupor and the three stumbled down the slope, giving the violent struggle between tree and beast a wide berth, to reach Hagrid below. The half-giant had already climbed to his feet and collected his axe, seemingly keen to join the fight, but seeing the three students approaching he let some of the anger slip from his form. Harry could see the deep blue that had swelled throughout the groundskeeper’s body soften and he wasn’t sure if it was a trick of his sight or not, but the man seemed to shrink slightly.

“Bloody good work there Harry.” Hagrid remarked as the three of them reached him and he ushered them behind him, towards the still prone animal on the ground. "But ya should’ve gone back to the castle. I can ‘andle meself."

“Hagrid-” Harry’s response was interrupted as, with a crack that echoed throughout the Forest, the tree-guardian lost one of it’s forelimbs to Greyback’s jaws.

The Werewolf tossed the limb aside and Harry felt the enchantment on the tree begin to struggle as the shape of the spell was broken along with its physical form. With a brutal slash of his immense clawed hand, Greyback cleft the other forelimb in two and the transfigured tree fell to the ground. Branches and roots bristled but the magic was as damaged as the wood and the remnants of the tree could do little more than shiver at the Werewolf.

“Bugger.” Harry cursed as the Werewolf turned from its place with an almost lazy motion, the shattered remains of the guardian crunching beneath his weight. The wounds the tree had managed to inflict—jagged splinters embedded in his flesh, deep gouges in his hide—were already healing, his unnatural regeneration knitting them closed in mere moments. The beast was barely winded.

“Righ’ you lot stay back here with the Eikthyrnir,” Hagrid warned as he hefted the axe in his grip again and moved forward, the blue rivers that flowed down his arms and legs thickening with each step. “I’ll ‘andle the mutt.”

Greyback's ears twitched at the challenge before he leapt forward, teeth bared and clawed arms swiping down with a promise of blood only to meet the haft of Hagrid’s axe as the half-giant pushed the Werewolf back and followed it up with a kick that could have felled a tree. The cursed monster was unfazed by the blow and returned it twofold with a vicious swipe that shredded Hagrid’s shirt. Blood welled instantly, dark and thick, but the half-giant took the blow and trapped the Werewolf’s arm under his own, his massive fingers locking around the beast’s wrist.  

"Yer not goin’ anywhere beastie," Hagrid growled.

Leveraging the extended limb for a moment, Hagrid brought it down over his knee with a grunt and Greyback let out a bellow as bone broke with a sickeningly wet snap under the half-giant's strength.

The monster recoiled, stumbling back with a snarl of pain, his shattered limb hanging limply at his side but with a deep, ragged breath, Greyback shifted, his body tensing—and as they watched in disbelief, the mangled limb twitched. Then, with a grotesque crackling of bone and muscle, it realigned, healing itself in the time it took to draw a breath.

Only for that breath to escape in a scream of pain as enchanted steel met cursed flesh and cleaved through the Werewolf’s other arm in a move too fast for even Harry’s sight to follow. Blood sprayed across the dirt once more, but Hagrid was not finished as he reared back and kicked the Werewolf. Hard.

Ribs cracked audibly as Greyback’s monstrous form tumbled backwards into the undergrowth, one arm dangling from a few ligaments and fragile strands of muscle.

For a few moments Harry was viscerally reminded that his friend, the normally cheerful and affable groundskeeper, possessed the strength to uproot trees and wrestle with monsters. There was a very good reason the man considered a Cerberus like Fluffy a ‘softie’ and held no fear when visiting a fully grown Acromantula like Aragog.

Even as ribs snapped back into place, Hagrid was closing the distance to slam a meaty fist into the side of the panting head of Greyback before he brought the axe down in a brutal overhead swing. The eversharp blade whistled keenly, screaming through the air to cut deeply into the Werewolf’s back with a wet crunch that sent shivers up Harry’s own spine.

The Werewolf lashed out with it’s good arm, claws sinking into the half-giant's trunk-like leg, but the blow lacked the power it had wielded earlier and it could do little to resist as Hagrid lifted the axe free in a wide swing that sent it rolling away weakly.

“Righ’,” Hagrid let out a sigh and lifted the axe onto his shoulder, turning to walk back towards the trio and the animal behind them, “Tha’ should keep him down fer a few minutes.”

Which, of course, is when the other Werewolf leapt from the top of the hill to land on Hagrid’s back. Harry hadn’t noticed it until it was already in the air, so focussed on the danger in the clearing, but he had to stifle a shout as teeth clamped down on Hagrid’s shoulder. This Werewolf was far smaller than Greyback, and the amber and grey that coursed through it’s form was twisting and roiling violently, almost tearing itself apart at points before it reformed into a new twisted shape that pushed and fought at the edges of the creature’s body.

Hagrid let the axe slip from his right hand and then reached up with both to grab the malformed Werewolf, trying to tear it free as it bore down on the flesh of his shoulder. Blood poured from the wound, trickling down Hagrid’s front and Harry pointed his wand in the half-giant's direction to help when another creature appeared at the edge of the clearing, bounding between trees on all fours, it slipped through the undergrowth, silent but for the light breaths that escaped its jaws.

Harry whipped around, his wand snapping up, but the creature did not slow. It was too large to be a normal dog, almost equal to that of the Werewolf on Hagrid’s back but nestled in the depths of its bear-like chest was a bundle of pale grey and red magic that pulsed like a heart.

Behind it, rising from the ground, Greyback climbed to his feet with a deep growl. His damaged arm hung from a steadily thickening strand of muscle, and in the time it took the monstrous Werewolf to cross the distance to Hagrid, the arm was almost fully healed. Greyback reared up and moved to slam his clawed limbs down on Hagrid in a blow that would surely spell an end for the already injured half-giant.

In.

Out.

“Vald Rikke!”

Greyback froze in place as the very fabric of space around him warped under Harry’s will and, for a brief moment, fear flashed through the amber eyes of the Werewolf as it found all it’s colossal strength useless against the magic binding him in place.

Harry didn’t notice this fear though, as he was driven to his knees by the mountainous weight that bore down on his spine as he grappled with the force of reality he was trying to control. The difference between a small table and the nine-foot tall Werewolf was immense, the strain was enough that he could hear his bones creaking from the strain of the spell.

The large dog that had bounded into the clearing froze for a moment at the sight of the Beast of Britain locked in place, a statue of flexing muscle and gnashing teeth, before it darted around the large Werewolf to approach Hagrid and the smaller Werewolf still trying to chew through the thick muscle of the groundskeeper’s shoulder. It emerged from the shadows next to the stream and clamped down on the dangling leg of the Werewolf with it’s own jagged teeth. A powerful jerk of the head and a particularly brutal twist from Hagrid and the Werewolf fell to the floor to land in a crumpled heap, a low whine escaped it as it staggered on all fours and moved to lunge at Hagrid once more, but Harry could see the turbulent magic within it slowing as amber and grey frayed and ripped apart.

Harry could feel the pain in his legs grow stronger as he felt Neville and Terry step up beside him and start trying to pull him backwards. The distraction almost proved deadly as his focus slipped a fraction and a roar escaped Greyback and his arms moved down to almost reach Hagrid’s neck before Harry could reassert control.

The pain spreading across his back and arms was growing as the breaths ticked by, but Harry ignored it. The rapid beating of his heart, the sweat pooling down his back, the hot burning across his ribs. He ignored it all as he twisted his wand and lifted Greyback into the air several feet.

His sight dimmed as his awareness shrank until he could just see the part of the clearing he was in, with Greyback’s monstrous form lit up in barbed cords of amber and red surrounded in a vice-like grip of green. He could feel a heavy pulse in his head and knew he could not hold the Werewolf any longer, so with the last of his strength he let the spell slip and cast a final spell.

“Depulso”

The concentrated ripple of green hit the Werewolf just as gravity took effect once more and the beast was sent flying backwards, crashing through branches and even a slender tree without slowing until Greyback collided with a tree that would not break some hundred meters away with a crack.

Harry let himself be carried backwards as he struggled to draw breath, but he knew that, even with all the broken bones he must have given the Werewolf, Greyback would be up and hunting them quickly. He had bought them a brief respite but it would not be enough, not with Hagrid bleeding form his shoulder and the smaller Werewolf still in the clearing with them, though it was thankfully distracted by the large dog that had come to aid them.

Caw-Caw

The cry of Kyrre from above and behind filled Harry with relief. A flicker of golden flame and a rush of displaced air heralded the arrival of Professors Flitwick and Dumbledore, their wands drawn as they appeared at the edge of the clearing, stepping from light and fire and magic.

A wave of violet magic washed across the entirety of the clearing and from the earth beneath the smaller Werewolf gleaming chains of silver and iron erupted, coiling around their body with ruthless precision. The bindings pulsed with enchantment, glowing faintly before transfigured stone followed, swallowing them whole, cocooning them in hardened earth. In mere moments, only an irregularly shaped mound remained where the monstrous figure stood.

A distant howl sounded, but it was moving further away not closer, and Harry slumped as exhaustion filled him.

“This may well be a record,” The cheerful voice of Professor Dumbledore filled the clearing as he walked over to Hagrid who was holding a hand to his still bleeding shoulder. “Unless I am mistaken, you have joined a very short list of figures who have survived the attentions of the so-called Beast of Britain twice now Mister Potter.”

“He should not have had to do so even once!” Professor Flitwick countered angrily, his blue and gold magic flared and the tip of his wand was glowing dangerously as he stalked over to his students.

“I quite agree Filius and I will ensure Fenrir has left the Forest myself,” A deep, muffled thud sounded from within one of the transfigured mounds, followed by the distant rattle of chains. Dumbledore did not so much as glance at it. “Once I have arranged for this poor Muggle to receive treatment.”

“I’m sorry Pr’fess’r, I tried ter tell ‘em to run bu-”

“Hagrid, please. You’ll do yourself more injury if you fret over explanations. I have no doubt you did your utmost to protect them.” Dumbledore patted the half-giant's elbow comfortingly and turned to glance at the mostly destroyed tree that had been Harry’s own offering to Greyback’s wrath. “Oh my, what a marvellous piece of magic, may I ask who’s work the tree was?”

Harry didn’t say anything, instead trying to examine the threads of violet dotted with black and white that flowed through the transfigured stone prison the Headmaster had created, but he did see Terry and Neville both point in his direction.

“Well I think twenty points to Ravenclaw for a very impressive, twinned Transfiguration and Animation Charm and ten points apiece for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, for the bravery to venture into the unknown to aid a friend.” The Headmaster smiled in his direction before he reached down to pet the large dog that was still sat beside Hagrid, it’s fur was bloody and it was panting heavily now it wasn’t running. “Is this a new friend of yours then Hagrid? I must confess I had thought Grim to be extinct in Britain.”

“Err yeah I s’pose he is Pr’fessor.” Hagrid shrugged somewhat and then swore as a fresh wave of blood leaked from beneath his hand. “Long as him and Fang get along at leas’.”

Dumbledore hummed in acknowledgment but said no more. Instead he bent and picked up a smooth stone from the floor and tapped it with his wand, imbuing it with a dense bundle of purple and white threads, before he gently tossed it over to the trio for Terry to catch.

“I believe the rest of you should return to the castle.” Dumbledore’s voice was gentle but firm. “This will take you. Take a deep breath and hold on. You will arrive safely—Professor McGonagall is waiting for you all in the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, but Professor Flitwick nodded to the three of them and the approval of his Head of House was good enough for him.

All three of them reached out and gripped the stone, and as Harry’s fingers touched the slightly warm stone, the bundle of magic it held unravelled rapidly. Threads of magic latched onto each of them before they twisted and a sensation similar to Apparition overtook the three boys, space bending around them in a sudden cold and black, before they felt stone hit their feet and they landed in the familiar Hospital Wing.

“What in Merlin’s name did you three think you were doing wandering off into the Forbidden Forest?”

Once the glow of the Portkey faded from the trees, Albus Dumbledore’s smile slipped away like mist burned off by the morning sun, leaving only a deep frown in its place. His fingers curled tighter around the smooth, timeworn handle of the Elder Wand.

“Revelio.”

A pulse of magic rippled outward, unseen but felt, brushing over the clearing like a passing breeze. The air shivered, leaves quivered, and the nearby brook momentarily stilled, as though holding its breath. The spell unfurled over twisted roots and broken branches, swept across the still form of the Eikthyrnir lying beside the stream, and finally faded into nothingness.

“You suspect a spy?” Flitwick asked, his voice quiet but sharp as he extended an oversized handkerchief toward Hagrid, who pressed it to his bleeding shoulder with a grunt of thanks.

“I thought perhaps Mr. Black would be nearby,” he admitted. “But unless his years in Azkaban have truly addled his mind, he would not concoct something so... rudimentary.”

 The aged Headmaster peered at the magical deer for a long moment, observing the drops of water that fell from the spike antlers atop it’s head.

“You do not fear he would try to attack the boys in Hogwarts?” Flitwick half turned in the direction his students had walked in, already preparing to run to their aid.

“Peace, Filius.” Dumbledore’s voice was gentle, but firm. “Sirius Black has proven himself resourceful, it is true, but I have empowered enchantments over the school to ensure their safety. I am bound to the Castle, and should any ill intent be directed at those within it...” A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Well, I hope you will not think me immodest, but even in Sirius Black’s prime, he could not have hoped to cross wands with me and win.”

“One day you will have to let me study some of these Charms you know that no others do, Albus.” Filius eyed the large black dog that was enjoying a gentle scratch from Hagrid’s free hand. “And is this really a Grim? I thought it would be a little more ... well more.”

“You of all people should be aware that looks can be deceiving, Filius.” Dumbledore’s lips twitched in amusement, though his gaze remained on the unmoving stone forms of Fenrir Greyback and the poor, doomed Muggle who had suffered his bite. His voice was distant when he spoke. “You should escort Hagrid back to the Castle, I will remain here until sunrise and take the Muggle to St Mungo’s if they survive. I wish to check something anyway.”

“Very well Albus, but we need to have words about Harry ... this is not the first time he has faced mortal peril while at Hogwarts and while he has proven himself more than capable of defending himself...”

“I know, Filius. And I wish, more than anything, that I could have shielded him from all the dangers he has faced.”

For the briefest moment, Albus Dumbledore looked old—not just in body, but in soul. Then, with a deep breath, he composed himself once more.

“But Fate is a river that does not bend for the hands of mere mortals. No matter how desperately we try to change its course.”

END

Chapter Text

Authors Notes

Hello All, apologies as always for the delay. What can I say, I'm just unreliable. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, it took a long time to get to this point and I'm still not 100% happy with it, but then I never am.

Please continue to leave reviews, it really does mean a lot!

Reviews

Disestablishmentaria – I'm glad you're enjoying it, I hope this chapter lives up to the rest!

Mwinter1 – An excellent question, and I did consider a werewolf Hagrid for a while, but with the changes to his character, lycanthropy and Giants I have already put in place, I think the way I've gone instead makes sense.

Mitkon2001 – I'm glad you like it! I must admit, I am a huge fan of Nordic mythology and am actively struggling not to dive too deeply into it, but yes so far I am failing haha. The common threads are there already and I barely realised I was doing it before it happened.

Griffin blackwood – Thank you! I rushed getting that chapter out and left in draft sections which should have been removed.

Killerpickle – If you don't like it, please do just stop reading, seems silly to force yourself to read something you aren't enjoying?

DarkRavie – I am so glad you like it, I hope you enjoy this one!

Littleemberlou – I'm glad you liked it! I try not to overdo the action scenes but I think the Greyback encounter needed its own chapter to fully explore it.

Chapter 32

"Bloody Daily Prophet." The scent of dust and old wood filled his nose as he tapped one of the bricks on the wall, seemingly at random. A faint pulse of magic rippled through the stone, and when he turned and pushed open the door, he stepped out two floors below where he had been just moments before.

"Hello Harrykins."

Fred and George stepped out from behind a tapestry a few meters down from him, it was not a passageway Harry had found in his almost three years and he noted it in his mind as one to investigate.

"Fred, George." Harry slowed his walk to let them catch up as he headed in the direction of one of the side stairways that led down to the Dungeons and the Potions lesson he was on his way to.

"So a little birdie tells us you had a little adventure yesterday in the Forest?" George tutted dramatically, wagging a finger in mock disapproval. Fred clutched his chest as if struck by a mortal blow, collapsing against his twin. "Very naughty Mister Potter, sneaking out to 'live up to your title' wasn't that what the paper said?"

"Ha ha." Harry shook his head and, without missing a beat, flicked a quick stinging jinx at Fred who yelped but laughed as he rubbed the sore spot on his leg. "I don't know how the reporter found out about it, I know Nev and Terry didn't say anything and I can't see Dumbledore telling the Daily Prophet a Werewolf nearly ate a student."

"Ah but you are forgetting an important fact Harry, Hagrid was there." Fred nodded sagely while George chuckled. "It seems our friendly groundskeeper went to the Three Broomsticks last night and, after a barrel of mead, started singing your praises mate."

"Yeah, we went down this morning for our regular Butterbeer shipment and Rosie told us all about it, Hagrid was telling everyone in the pub about how you were gonna be the 'next Dumbledore'. Something about you turning half the forest into bears to fight Fenrir Greyback, reckon the deeper into the mead the worse the monster was but still." George clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Oh he was definitely exaggerating, I transfigured a tree but it barely slowed Greyback down. Hagrid did the rest himself until Professor Dumbledore and Flitwick showed up." It took three steps before he noticed the Twins had stopped walking and were both stood staring after him in disbelief.

"Wait wait wait."

"You really did-"

"-fight Fenrir Greyback-"

"-The bloody Beast of Britain-"

"-last night?"

"You know that gets less impressive each time you do it, right?" Harry snorted at the affronted denials from the Twins before he turned and continued towards the Dungeons.

"The cheek of youths these days Fred."

"Unbelievable George, so rude."

"Besides I'm always more impressive than you anyway."

"Ye-Wait, no, I'm the more impressive one. Everyone says so."

"To your face maybe, but they all know I'm..."

Harry left the two brothers bickering as he descended into the bowels of the Castle, stepping neatly over a trick step halfway down, and after a short walk down a slightly dusty corridor he rounded the corner beside the Potions classroom.

The dungeons always felt different from the rest of Hogwarts—cooler, quieter, heavier. The air was tinged with damp stone and faint traces of spilled potions, an odd mix of herbs, acidic fumes, and something vaguely metallic.

He was not the first one there, but he wasn't the last either as he slipped through the door and took a seat at one of the empty worktables. A few moments later, as he was opening his Potions book, Terry sat beside him with a murmured greeting.

Just in time as the door slammed closed behind the Potions Master who stalked to the front of the room and surveyed the room before he tapped the board and a flicker of magic crawled across it, no doubt revealing the instructions for the lesson.

"In light of recent events," Snape began, his voice dangerously smooth, "I will be endeavoring—futilely, I am sure—to teach you all the basic theory behind brewing Wolfsbane Potion."

A wave of whispers rolled across the room and, for once, Professor Snape allowed it for a moment before he continued. "While a properly brewed Wolfsbane Potion allows a werewolf to retain self-awareness during transformation, the mixture is highly toxic until its completion. Therefore, none of you will be attempting to brew it today. Even I do not have the patience to oversee such inevitable disasters."

There were a few nervous chuckles, that were quickly stifled under the Professor's withering gaze.

"Now who can tell me the first steps for the Wolfsbane Potion?" Unsurprisingly, Terry raised his hand as did a few of the Slytherin's sat on the other side of the room, but the Potions Master ignored them all and turned instead to Harry who had very much not raised his own hand. "Surely our resident Werewolf hunter knows the answer? Because only a fool would seek out such a dangerous creature without learning everything about it."

"Spring water collected under a New Moon and stored in a silver flask added to the cauldron over a low heat, then slowly add four sprigs of Aconite, stirring counterclockwise forty-nine times with a clockwise stir every seven, until the mixture turns a deep purple with puffs of white smoke. Crush three Mandrake leaves into a fine paste and stir in clockwise nine times, wait until the potion is still and then add diced Murtlap tentacle and ground Kelpie hair-"

"Enough," Snape cut him off with a barely controlled snarl. "I asked for the first steps, not for you to recite the recipe. Two points from Ravenclaw."

Harry felt Terry tense beside him but tapped the boy with his cane and shook his head minutely. It was not worth arguing when it would only cost them more points, besides which he would make them back twice over by the end of the week in the other lessons.

"Now, the Wolfsbane Potion is notoriously difficult to brew for a number of reasons, but not least is the specific requirements for the base of the potion. Spring water untouched by any light that isn't moonlight..."

Albus Dumbledore stood in the clearing that his students had faced death in, and he could not help but note how different it seemed in the light of day. Where before the moonlight had filtered through skeletal branches to cast shifting shadows across the ground, now golden light from the risen sun diffused through the canopy to cover the gouged earth in a warm glow.

Yet daylight could not erase the devastation, only accentuate it—the gashes in the earth, the shattered remains of trees, the bloodied patches of disturbed undergrowth. Evidence of danger, of violence, of the peril his students had barely survived. The longer he stood there, the more a slow-burning fury settled in his chest.

An anger that was echoed by the wand in his hand, soft suggestions whispered in his mind that he should seek out those who had caused this and make of them a warning so none would think to endanger his students again. Not only Greyback, but the corrupt Hit Wizards who had taken a bribe to slip him a Portkey and let him loose like a rabid hound. Even the Minister himself, for allowing such rot to fester in the Ministry unchecked.

It took a force of will he found more and more difficult to muster to ignore the thoughts he might well have acted on in his youth and instead focus on the matter at hand. Fenrir Greyback had achieved something he should not have been able to do.

The enchantments across the enormous forest that bordered Hogwarts were ancient and they alone should have been beyond Greyback who was a middling Wizard in truth, his only strength lay in the Dark Arts and even in those he was a novice compared to many among Tom's cabal.

Yet somehow, the Werewolf had managed to pierce the protective enchantments long enough to slip through them along with two infected Muggles and then do so again on each successive layer of enchantments as he approached the castle, each one more complex than the last. It should have been beyond a Wizard of Greyback's ability to do so, and even on the edge of the Forest he could tell that the enchantments were intact so the Werewolf hadn't found some way to disable the alert and destroy them entirely, though again that should have been impossible for the Werewolf.

A Wizard of Tom's ability might have been able to destroy the enchantments entirely without alerting the monitoring charms, but Albus doubted his old student would have the patience to do so.

Which left him with a puzzle.

How did Fenrir breach the enchantments so deeply?

The answer came to him almost immediately. He didn't.

He had been right in his initial assessment, Fenrir Greyback could not evade the enchantments in place. However, Albus already knew that Fenrir had assistance from some source. The Werewolf had been under the influence of the Wolfsbane Potion during the encounter with Hagrid and his students, it was the only way he could have resisted the urge to attack even with the presence of Filius and himself. Only the conscious, logical mind of Fenrir could have forced the Werewolf to flee when potential prey was available.

So someone, or someone's, had provided Greyback with Wolfsbane Potion and then also provided a way through the wards.

Albus' first thought was that Sirius could be assisting the Werewolf, and it would make some measure of sense. The Azkaban escapee had connections in Knockturn Alley that could most likely provide the potion but to breach the enchantments would require a Warder or Curse-Breaker of considerable skill and Sirius, while a formidable duellist, was neither of those things.

Then again, Albus would not have thought Black capable of escaping Azkaban either so perhaps he was doing the man a disservice.

Dumbledore cast his sharp gaze over the clearing, taking in every ruined patch of earth, every splintered tree, every drop of dried blood darkening the grass. Somewhere, buried in this destruction, was the key to unmasking Greyback's benefactor.

What magic he could sense in the clearing all came from one source. Harry Potter. Another puzzle, if one much more pleasing.

Even raised outside the magical world, the boy had flourished at an unnatural rate. He was on the path to becoming a mage of extraordinary caliber, his growth far outstripping his peers. His transfiguration the previous night had been remarkable—not simply in execution, but in the sheer composure with which it had been cast. And then there was Ragnarþyngd.

A spell of forgotten ages.

The so-called Weight of the Gods was a spell from a time when magic-wielders were revered as divine beings. When Filius had first spoken of Harry using it, Dumbledore had been shocked as he had only known a few modern mages who bothered with such magic. He had scoured the Restricted Section for more on the magic in question, finding only a few scattered references. It was a spell of staggering difficulty, avoided by most for the sheer toll it took on the caster.

The thought of the quiet Ravenclaw boy brought memories of another prodigal young man to his mind, not Tom as he had once feared when Harry had first arrived at Hogwarts but a Wizard even more dangerous who had mastered not just the Dark Arts, but any branch of magic he turned his hand to.

For several long minutes Albus allowed himself to enjoy fond memories of his youth before he turned to leave the clearing and head to St Mungo's, hoping that perhaps the Muggle Fenrir cursed had survived his ordeal.

In doing so his eye caught sight of a flicker of movement in the disturbed earth. Of something half buried under the upturned soil where he surmised Greyback had fought with Hagrid. A small piece of yellowed parchment that he summoned to hover in the air before him.

Torn at the edge, it was likely dropped during the Werewolf's transformation, and nothing was written on it but Albus Dumbledore had picked up a few tricks over the years he could use to aid him in identifying at least where it had come from.

It could lead nowhere, just a scrap of parchment the Werewolf had picked up along the way or stolen from a home.

Or it could lead him to one aiding the monster who had most frustratingly disappeared somewhere on the northern borders of the forest.

A slow smile touched Dumbledore's lips as he tucked the parchment carefully into his robes.

He knew just the man to consult.

Nicolas Flamel had always been a purveyor of oddities, and he had an unparalleled collection of parchment clippings dating back centuries. The old alchemist often lamented the decline in quality of ink and paper over the years even as technology progressed.

With that thought, Dumbledore stepped forward, vanishing in a silent ripple of displaced air as he journeyed across to Europe, hoping he would have enough time before the Wizengamot assembly scheduled for that evening.

Hagrid had been very apologetic when Harry arrived early for the Care of Magical Creatures lesson. The half-giant had not known there was a reporter for the Daily Prophet in the Three Broomsticks when he settled in for a drink or three, he had only thought he was praising Harry to a few drinking companions.

"It's fine Hagrid, it probably would have slipped out to someone eventually anyway." Harry scratched the top of Fang's head while the other dog Hagrid had adopted from the clearing lay snoozing on a flat rock with the remnants of a steak scattered around his jaws.

"Ah yer too forgivin' Harry, but alrigh'." Hagrid straightened as the rest of the class started to descend on the makeshift paddock that had been erected a short distance from the groundskeeper's cabin. "Come on, come take a look at wha' I've got for ya all."

In the middle of the paddock, the deer-like creature from the clearing was stood chewing on a bundle of leaves Hagrid had left out for it. It looked young, with short half-formed antlers sprouting from it's head, and it stood only a little shorter than Harry's five foot two.

However, while its bright eyes and dappled coat drew some of the gaze, it was the dewy water that trickled from its antlers that most of the class were entranced by. Crystal clear, the water flowed in a slow but steady trickly down to the ground and already a small stream had formed, winding out of the paddock and down the hill towards the Black Lake.

"Can anyone tell me wha' this lovely creature is called?" Hagrid asked as Harry stepped over to Neville and Terry who were both eyeing the large sleeping dog instead of the creature in the paddock.

"It's an Eikthyrnir." One of the few Slytherins in the class answered confidently.

"That's righ', two points to Slytherin. Now, Eikthyrnir are very interestin' creatures. The Norse folk thought they were the source o' all rivers cos of the water they produce from their antlers." Hagrid pointed to the dewy droplets that trickled from the Eikthyrnir down to the grass before he continued. "Now o' course they aren't the source o' all the water in the world, bu' in the frozen north they were a reliable source o' clean drinking water and the dew o' an Eikthyrnir will never turn to ice, not till it mixes with less pure water a' least."

"Now line up and you can all ge' a closer look at 'is antlers, he's only young so they're no' a full rack but give 'im a few months and you'll see how impressive he gets..."

Harry moved to the back of the queue and let out a quiet chuckle as the large black dog stood and followed him, leaning into his side for more petting and attention. Hagrid had said it was a 'Grim' and he had not heard of such a creature until Neville explained that they were hounds of ill omen, more spirit than creature that wandered the world finding souls about to die and escorting them across to the next world or, in the case of more reluctant souls, chasing them across instead.

"I dunno much about Grim, but you seem much too friendly to be a sign of death to me." Harry whispered as he ruffled the fur between its large ears, a spot the dog seemed to enjoy as it hummed a pleased growl.

It didn't take long for the rest of the class to finish studying the Eithyrnir and Harry stepped up to the edge of the paddock as the deer-like creature raised its head to peer up at him. It seemed to be studying him in turn as he examined the short horns that sprouted from its head in his sight. The magic that filled its body was a rippling river of blues in every shade, all twining around one another as they flowed from the tips of its horns down to its cloven hooves.

Of all the creatures Harry had seen in his time at Hogwarts, only Fawkes rivalled the Eikthyrnir for the sheer depth of colour and magic that filled its body. Kyrre's magic was mostly focussed within her eyes, tiny stars of amber that shone among the grey of her body, and the Hippogriff's fusion of bird and horse, while unique, was not all that complex in comparison.

The Eikthyrnir let out a sharp snort as Harry stepped back from the fence and shook its head before it turned and cantered across the paddock to the far side where a fresh bundle of cut grass waited for it.

"Righ' I'll be wantin' a few inches on Eikthyrnir, how to recognise 'em in the wild and examples of uses for 'em. Off ya go, 'fore the sixth years come down." Hagrid dismissed them with a wave and Harry gave the forlorn dog at his feet a final scratch before he followed the swarm of students ascending the hill to the Castle.

"That Greyback was able to hide in Hogsmeade, and on a Hogwarts weekend no less, is a travesty! We need to bring in stricter measures and the Half-breed Registration Act must be passed to ensure no more incidents like this can occur!" Thorfinn Rowle thundered, his booming voice echoed off the high vaulted ceiling of the circular chamber. Light from the floating torches flickered against the carved stone walls, casting his heavy-browed face into deeper shadow as he glared across the floor at Dedalus Diggle, who had wasted no time in voicing his dissent.

"Greyback was captured in Hogsmeade and then escaped from the Hit Wizards thanks to an unregistered Portkey he was able to somehow 'find'," Dedalus snapped back, rising from his seat with a rustle of his deep purple robes. "I should think our first order of business would be investigating how such a dangerous wizard was able to escape, wouldn't you?"

He sat back down with a defiant sniff, nearly swallowed by the plush folds of his garish attire, his top hat wobbling as he crossed his arms.

"The damned beast should have been killed on the spot, then he wouldn't have been able to escape!" Walden Macnair bellowed from his place two rows back. Though Amos Diggory, Head of Macnair's small office and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, raised a hand to quiet him, he made no effort to publicly distance himself from the comment.

"Despite my colleague's choice of wording," Amos said, his voice carefully measured though tight with tension, "he is correct in one regard. This Act would allow us a greater ability to track dangerous half-breeds such as Fenrir Greyback and could prevent another incident such as his attack on Hogsmeade from occurring again. You have all been given a copy of the Act, please read through it and help us stop monsters like Greyback once and for all."

As Amos sat, Albus Dumbledore raised a long-fingered hand, signalling for order. His return had been just in time. The ancient chamber, adorned with banners representing the various factions of Magical Britain, was packed with robed witches and wizards whose voices had been growing steadily louder over the past hour.

He had only skimmed the meeting agenda before the chamber filled, but his concern had mounted quickly when he saw that Amos had reintroduced the Half-breed Registration Act. The last time this bill had made its way to the floor, it had been shot down with a comfortable margin. This time, with tempers inflamed by Greyback's brazen attack and escape, the numbers were looking much closer.

As Chief Warlock, Albus held a position of ceremonial and political significance. He had been voted in after the war with Voldemort, a move he had once viewed as a unifying gesture. But it hadn't taken long to realize why the more conservative elements of the Wizengamot had supported him—his role required impartiality. He could not cast a vote unless he relinquished his seat, and doing so would weaken the resistance to the very policies he sought to contain.

So he had grown adept at quiet maneuvering—coded signals, pointed glances, and subtle gestures. A single touch to his beard now told Elphias Doge to prepare for opposition. The wizened old man caught the message and stiffened slightly in his seat.

The Act was a wolf in sheep's clothing, and Albus had seen it's like before. Marketed as a measure of public safety, it masked darker intentions: the power to publicly catalogue and expose magical beings labelled as 'half-breeds,' to strip them of privacy, dignity, and security. Registration would be the first step. Persecution would follow.

As silence settled over the stone hall, Albus's sharp eyes scanned the room. Macnair sat seething, and from the shadows of the tiered benches, Lucius Malfoy watched with calculating stillness. His pale, pointed face was unreadable, but the occasional flick of his gaze to Macnair revealed the invisible strings guiding the blunt executioner's outbursts.

"Unless we have any further arguments," Albus said, his voice calm but firm, "we will proceed with the vote for the Half-breed Registration Act. All those in favour."

Dozens of wands lifted in unison, dots of white light at their tips as they signalled their vote. Albus watched intently, his years of experience allowing him to count the tally with barely a flicker of his expression. As the final wand raised, he exhaled—a soft, quiet sigh.

"And all those against?"

Another wave rose, slower but more assured. The glow of opposition flickered defiantly through the hall, and though a few members abstained, the opposing side held the majority.

"The vote falls against," Albus said, "but not by a two-thirds majority, so the Act can be brought before the Wizengamot again at the next assembly."

A whisper of disappointment stirred the air, and Albus's eyes drifted back to Lucius. A flicker—barely a twitch—disturbed the other wizard's smooth façade. Albus suspected he knew what had caused it; frustration, momentarily unguarded. The battle was won, but only just.

Then Barty Crouch stood up, reluctantly, alongside the increasingly rotund Ludo Bagman and Albus forced his attention onto the two of them as they outlined the progress they had made on the latest attempt to reinstate the TriWizard Tournament. It was part of a push by Fudge to improve relations with Europe and their first success had been winning the bid to have England host the Quidditch World Cup that would take place at the end of summer. Surprisingly, it seemed the unlikely duo had made considerable progress in the arrangements and what had started out as something of a pipedream, was growing more and more likely to come to fruition. They had even managed to get Beauxbaton's and Durmstrang to agree to journey to Hogwarts for the duration.

The vote to allow the project that both the Department of International Magical Co-operation and the Department of Magical Games and Sports were working on passed almost unanimously, and Albus made a mental note to approach Barty Crouch about the event. The bloody history of the TriWizard Tournament needed to be addressed, he would not allow his students to face true mortal peril even for such a prestigious contest.

The final two items on the agenda were considerably drier by comparison. First came proposed amendments to the DMLE budget, which would reallocate resources to magical law enforcement operations in the wake of recent security failures. Then a long-overdue restructuring of the Department of Magical Education was debated, aimed at enabling stricter background checks for new Hogwarts staff—an echo of the Lockhart fiasco still ringing in bureaucratic ears.

Lucius leaned in to whisper something into the ear of Goyle beside him, who promptly rose to argue against both measures. It made sense, after Lucius was removed from the Board of Governors he had lost the small amount of influence he could wield over the school, this new bill would allow the Department to investigate any new teacher's more thoroughly if they had the Board's agreement and would lessen his influence once more. Goyle's voice, deep and bassy, stirred minor resistance, but the conservative lords were not unified this time. After brief rebuttals, both amendments passed.

As the final motions were logged and the hall began to thin, Albus remained seated in his high-backed chair, fingers steepled and gaze distant. It was unlike Lucius to push for a bill unless he was certain he had the votes to pass it. Perhaps the Malfoy patriarch's grip on the conservative lords was slipping?

Lucius Malfoy kept the mask of polite ambivalence carefully sculpted across his aristocratic features as he navigated the marble corridors of the Ministry, his walking stick clicking rhythmically against the polished floor with each measured step. The mask remained flawlessly intact when he glimpsed Arthur Weasley's weathered face beaming with triumph as he clapped the bumbling fool Diggle on his shoulder, their celebration echoing off the ornate walls. It never wavered when he caught sight of Walden Macnair's murderous glare burning into him over the shoulder of Diggory, who was loudly bemoaning the failed vote with theatrical gestures and wounded pride dripping from every syllable. The practiced expression held firm even when he noted the calculating gleam that flickered like candlelight in Tiberius Nott's cold grey eyes as the man stood conversing in hushed, conspiratorial tones with Damian Greengrass—who had notably and tellingly abstained from the vote with strategic silence.

He maintained that perfect facade of disinterested civility even as he stepped with practiced grace into the emerald flames of the Floo network, disappearing from the Ministry's grand atrium in a brilliant flash of green fire and swirling grey smoke that tasted of ash and ambition.

Only when he stepped into the hushed sanctuary of his private study—with its towering shelves of leather-bound tomes and the familiar scent of parchment and leather—and closed the heavy oak door behind him with a soft, decisive click, did he finally allow the carefully constructed mask to crumble away like ancient plaster.

And permit a wide, predatory smile to slowly spread across his pale face like ink bleeding through water.

It had cost him dearly, there was no question about that bitter truth. The price had been steep, paid in political capital accumulated over years of careful manoeuvring.

Tiberius Nott would smell the blood in the churning political waters and move with vulture-like efficiency to consolidate his scattered allies before making his inevitable push to seize Lucius' coveted position as the de facto leader of the Conservative faction. The man was ambitious and cunning—qualities Lucius could grudgingly respect even as he prepared to counter them.

But despite the considerable cost, his gambit had worked with breathtaking precision.

And even more satisfying, the Act had sailed close enough to passing that perhaps he could navigate the treacherous currents of politics to push for its actual passage in the next assembly. That small victory would serve to appease the volatile Macnair after having his precious bill sacrificed like a lamb on the altar of political necessity.

Using the simple-minded Goyle to argue passionately against the very bill he had actually crafted and desired to pass had been a spur-of-the-moment idea, but it had worked beautifully. The strategy had required swallowing his considerable pride to work alongside that pink-clad harridan Umbridge, whose simpering voice grated against his nerves like fingernails on slate, and parting with a not inconsiderable fortune in carefully placed bribes that many would balk at. Through these distasteful means, he had successfully arranged for a seemingly minor change to the bill's wording—in truth, just the surgical removal of a single, crucial word that transformed the legislation's entire scope and power.

The bill now allowed the Department of Magical Education to investigate and, if the Board unanimously agreed, remove any teachers at Hogwarts that they deemed insufficiently qualified or unsuitable for their positions. A weapon disguised as educational reform.

He had sacrificed much of the influence he once wielded like a sword over the Board of Governors, watching years of careful cultivation wither in a single afternoon. But it had taken him less than a decade of patient work to acquire leverage over a majority of those pompous board members previously, and he harboured little doubt that it would take half as long to weave his web of influence anew. The upcoming TriWizard Tournament would provide the perfect distraction, its pageantry and ancient traditions drawing attention away from his quiet machinations behind the scenes.

Even that grand spectacle had required delicate finessing and substantial investment. Convincing the paranoid Karkaroff to return to British soil had demanded both a hefty sum of Galleons donated to Durmstrang's coffers and his own personal oath that he would prevent any attempt by Ministry officials to waylay his former compatriot upon arrival. The gold had flowed like water, but the investment would prove worthwhile when the chaos of the Tournament provided perfect cover for his schemes.

The Department for Magical Education would prove a far thornier obstacle to his plans. Griselda Marchbanks ruled her bureaucratic domain with an iron fist wrapped in velvet gloves, and despite her advancing years—or perhaps because of the wisdom she had gained through them—she possessed an almost supernatural ability to identify and root out those who might be swayed by gold or influence. He had made several calculated attempts over the years to establish even the smallest foothold within her well-guarded department, but each effort had been discovered and eliminated with surgical precision, leaving him empty-handed and grudgingly impressed.

It remained a formidable obstacle, but not an insurmountable one for a man of his resources and determination. He would find a way to breach her defences, as he always did. Once that fortress fell, he could begin the methodical work of chipping away at the foolish Headmaster's support within the ancient walls of Hogwarts itself. He would replace teacher after teacher, installing his own carefully chosen allies in their place, until he commanded enough influence to force even the legendary Albus Dumbledore into ignominious retreat.

The old man had rested upon his considerable laurels for far too long, basking in past glories while the world shifted beneath his feet. Those halcyon days when Albus Dumbledore seemed untouchable, when his name alone could silence rooms and bend wills, were drawing to their inevitable close like the final act of a once-great play.

And Lucius Malfoy would claim the finest seat in the house to watch the mighty wizard's spectacular fall from his towering pedestal of public adoration.

Only when Dumbledore was stripped of every position, every title, every scrap of influence he had accumulated over his long and storied career—when he stood revealed as nothing more than a lonely, broken old man whose allies had abandoned him and whose legacy lay in ruins—only then would Lucius gather his scattered but loyal allies from the shadows where they waited with patient hunger.

Only then would the Knights of Walpurgis emerge from their long hibernation to finally, definitively end the infuriatingly long life of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and with it, the last obstacle to the new world they would build from the ashes of the old. The Dark Lord might have fallen, but their shared vision would endure.

"Ah Mr Potter, are you by any chance heading down to Hagrid's?" Professor Lupin enquired as Harry stepped down from the staircase and into the Entrance Hall, heading in the direction of the main doors that led out onto the grounds.

"Yes Professor, Hagrid invited me down for tea and the others are still working on the homework Professor McGonagall assigned on Vertebrate-to-Invertebrate transformations." Harry had managed to finish it in History while Binns was droning on about the Troll Wars of 1320, a subject the books covered in less than a chapter.

"Excellent, I wanted to ask Hagrid about the Kelpie's in the Black Lake, would you mind if I joined you?" Harry shook his head and waited for the Professor to catch up to him before he started walking down towards the Forest's edge and Hagrid's cabin.

The bitter chill of Winter had well and truly been drowned by the warm and wet spring rains and while the paths were still slick, ice was no longer a danger as Harry let his cane splash through the shallow puddles that dotted the cobbles. It was still cool enough to require a jacket, but the frigid wind biting at any exposed flesh was replaced by, occasionally warm, breezes.

They made it less than halfway down the winding path before Harry felt something brush against the edges of his awareness and he smiled as, moments later, Kyrre swooped down from above to circle him. She had grown slightly since Harry had first been given her, now rivalling even the largest of the owls who frequented the Great Hall during mealtimes, but remained light enough to perch on his shoulder when she wanted to. Although Harry's own growth spurt over the summer had helped.

"I heard an impressive tale from Professor McGonagall about you last week." Professor Lupin remarked suddenly as he glanced up at the still circling Kyrre. "She was boasting about a transfiguration you used to fend off Greyback, something along the lines of a 'once in a generation talent'."

"It wasn't that impressive, just an incomplete inanimate-to-animate transformation." Harry denied as he struggled to fight off the blush in his cheeks. "And it lasted less than a minute against Greyback."

"Harry, there isn't a student at Hogwarts that could have done better when faced with a monster like Greyback. That you were able to muster any kind of defence is impressive, but from what I've heard you more than held your own." Professor Lupin patted him gently on the shoulder as they crested the hill and the smell of woodsmoke from Hagrid's cabin drifted through the air towards them. "The praise isn't undue Harry, I promise you that."

"'Ello Remus, 'Arry!" Hagrid called out from his spot in the garden behind his home as he threw a final handful of thick pellets down across the green buds that were eagerly sprouting. "Oh watch out, someone's keen ter see ya again!"

Darting around Hagrid's tree trunk legs, the dark shape of the Grim that had been adopted by the Groundskeeper bounded up from the garden towards Harry and the Defence Professor.

Harry raised his hand in greeting, a smile already forming on his lips, when the world suddenly tilted. He found himself stumbling backward, nearly losing his footing as a firm hand shoved against his chest. For a bewildering moment, confusion clouded his thoughts until he realized that Professor Lupin was no longer walking beside him. Instead, the man now stood protectively in front of him, wand drawn and trembling in a white-knuckled grip, the tip pointed directly at the approaching dog.

The Grim stopped partway up the hill, it's body coiled with tension, caught between approach and retreat, as its head darted between Harry and the professor.

"Oh, it's okay Professor Lupin," Harry tried to explain, clambering back to his feet and wincing at the damp sensation of his trousers clinging to his legs from the wet grass. "I know everyone says it looks like a Grim, but he's really very friendly. Hagrid's been caring for him."

"I—you can't—" Professor Lupin's voice cracked, each word seemingly torn from his throat with tremendous effort. The sound was raw, wracked with barely constrained agony that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than physical pain and Harry could see the magic within the Defence Professor was pulsing turbulently as he hunched over slightly and let out a low wheeze.

Lupin's free hand clutched at his chest as he hunched over slightly, his breathing coming in sharp, labored gasps. Sweat beaded on his pale forehead despite the cool spring air.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry stepped forward instinctively, his hand finding the man's trembling arm. The limb was shaking violently, almost vibrating with tension, as if every muscle fiber was locked in conflict with itself. "What's wrong? Are you ill?"

"You..." Lupin gasped between gritted teeth, his words forced out like each syllable was a battle won, "need... to... leave. Now."

Harry could see magic beginning to gather sluggishly in the professor's wand, but it moved like thick honey, as if some invisible force was actively fighting against its flow. The man's entire frame was rigid with the effort of maintaining control or resisting whatever bout of illness had suddenly struck him.

Harry started to take a step back, alarmed by the professor's distress, but was surprised when the black dog suddenly whined—a low, mournful sound full of pain. Without warning, it turned and bounded away across the grass, its powerful form disappearing among the dense trees at the forest's edge with a final, plaintive bark that seemed tinged with sadness.

Only when the dog had vanished completely from sight—when its presence no longer registered even in Harry's magical awareness—did Professor Lupin suddenly collapse. His legs gave out as if invisible strings had been cut, and Harry lunged forward, struggling to catch the man's dead weight as his limbs went completely limp.

"I'm sorry..." The words slipped from Professor Lupin's lips like a confession, barely audible as his head lolled forward. His eyes rolled back, and he went utterly slack in Harry's arms.

Harry strained under the professor's weight, his mind reeling with confusion and growing alarm as Hagrid's heavy footsteps thundered up the slope towards them, the groundskeeper's voice filled with concern as he called up to them.

END