Chapter Four

Harry had little time to be concerned about his parents as he prepared for his first day of classes. He woke early that morning, while the tower was quiet and the sun not yet visible through the small windows. Despite the long evening of merriment the night before, he couldn't fall back asleep. Who could sleep on such a day of such momentous occurrence – the day he'd finally start learning magic. He listened to the soft snoring drifting though the room and gathered his blankets tightly around him. It was cold.

Something rustled on the other side of the room. He sat up and squinted through the darkness.

Seamus rolled out of his bed and shivered. With a thick fur bearskin throw draped over his shoulders, he danced over the chilly flagstones to the fireplace. The roaring fire the boys had stoked up the night before was embers, now. He threw some thin logs on top and squatted down on his haunches before the pit.

"What are you doing?" Harry whispered. He threw off his covers and crept over to join his roommate, tiptoeing across the chilly stone floor.

"Bit o' magic," Seamus answered with a wild grin. The shadows danced eerily on his pale skin. With the fur wrapped round him he looked like a savage warrior, or at least, the start of one. Nobody looked much a warrior in their skivvies. He held his hand stiffly over the glowing coals and traced a design through the air. "Been doing it every morning."

Harry watched, intrigued. The smoldering remains of their evening fire nipped at the new kindling. "What's it do?"

Seamus poked the coals with an iron rod. "Supposed to make the fire stronger, once it gets going. Helps take the nip off. Learned it from the hedgewitch in the Breen Oakwood near me village. Bit of an odd biddy, that one, but she knew a few handy tricks."

"Don't you need a wand?" Though he'd heard there was a lot of magic that could be done without one, the only wandless magic he'd seen performed had been by Black Pete, on Dermot's ship.

"Nah, not for this. She ain't ever had one anyhow, far as I know."

"What kind of magic is it then?"

Seamus gave him a funny look. "The kind that keeps the fire hot, that's what kind. Old widow Slaine didn't have a fancy name for it, if that's what you're asking."

Harry opened his mouth to question him further, but was interrupted by a loud groan from across the room. Ron yanked his curtains open and stuck his face out. "Please tell me we don't have to get up yet. It's too bloody early."

"If you want a hot bath, you better," Seamus joked as he stood up and rummaged through his kit.

Ron considered it for a moment. "I took a bath yesterday," he groused.

"Yeah and you spent all night soaked in butterbeer and honeymeade. You smell like the floor of the Screaming Sidhe."

"What's the Screaming Sidhe?" Dean asked. He rubbed his eyes and yawned as he tied back his curtains.

"Village pub back in Breen, next to me Da's shop."

Ron wrinkled his nose and sniffed his tunic. "I don't stink that bad."

Harry woke Neville and the five boys got about their morning chores with good cheer. Dean had to scuffle with Ebbard MacDougan, one of the boys from the dormitory down the hall, for his turn in the loo, but they all managed to get dressed and ready for the day in little time at all. As they were packing up their supplies for their first class, Harry pulled Seamus aside.

"Hey could you show me how to do that trick with the fire?"

The boy stuffed a wrinkled parchment into his pack and shrugged. "Sure I guess. Learned a few more interesting things from the old widow too though, so if you're wanting to turn that git Malfoy into a newt, you just let me know."

Neville choked and dropped the lid of his trunk. It slammed shut with a loud bang. "You wouldn't really!"

"Err..." the boisterous young wizard flushed, his face turning nearly as red as Ron's hair. He scratched his head and stammered. "Sorry I forgot you were - listen I didn't mean it really, no need to make any fuss over it. Couldn't really do it anyhow, just having a bit of fun."

Harry had made a small bit of progress the night before, after several steaming mugs of butterbeer and a platterful of sweet meats, to get the other three boys to treat Neville like a normal lad, but it seemed that in the stark light of morning, they were back to their awkward beginnings.

"Neville doesn't like Malfoy anymore than you do, Seamus," he said. "I met him yesterday, and I can't say I do either."

"Just the same, you might forget I even mentioned it."

Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed his satchel from the post of his bed. It was stuffed full of clean rolls of parchment, three of his fancy ostrich quills, two bottles of black squid ink, and of course, his wand.

On the other side of the room, Dean dragged Seamus into a corner. "Could you really do it - turn him into a newt?" he whispered loudly.

"Well, I could mix up a tonic that would give him a bunch o' warts on that pretty face of his. Don't know how I'd get him to drink it though; the stuff stinks like a kelpie's arsehole. Right foul it is."

Ron snickered. "Who's this Malfoy git, anyway?"

"Some rich prat in Slytherin. Thinks he owns the bloody castle just because his Da's got a lot of gold and a fancy seat down in Wiltshire," Seamus responded hotly. He grinned and wiggled his bum. "I'd like to show him my seat and see what he thinks of that!"

Dean snorted and then frantically started making shushing noises. The three boys glanced guiltily over at Neville before huddling into a conclave of hushed whispers and boyish giggling.

Sighing, Neville closed up his trunk and stood awkwardly by the side of his bed. Harry clapped him on the shoulder. "They'll get used to it eventually."

"I hope so," the boy replied. "I thought it was bad at court - everybody is always so formal all the time, but at least they'll talk to me."

"Give it a few days. It's not every day you find out you're bunking up with royalty, after all." Harry grinned and started off into the hall. "Oy, meet you lads down at breakfast. See if you can get your heads out of your arses by then, alright?"

Indignant shouts followed them out of the room. Neville smiled meekly. "Thanks Harry," he said. "I'm really glad you're here."

"So am I. Learning magic is loads better than being stuck with my mum's sister in the muggle world. Say, Neville?"

"Yeah?"

Harry chewed his lip as they descended the stairs and crossed through the common room. "Did you know Seamus has been doing a spell on the fire every morning? Do you know how to do any magic already, like that?"

Neville followed him out into the corridor outside the tower. "What kind of spell is it?"

"Just something to keep the fire hotter, I think."

"I don't know anything like that. Gran didn't want me to get too involved in any fire magic before coming here - she was worried I'd burn the castle to ashes."

"But you can do some magic already? I mean you said you'd had a potions tutor right?"

The other boy grimaced. "I've had tutors since I could talk, seems like. It wasn't all magic though; in fact mostly I was just learning boring things like history and French and how to hold a sword properly."

"That sword fighting bit sounds alright."

"I wasn't very good at it; I'm much better with plants. There's a brilliant garden house in one of the castle courtyards. It's got plants growing in it from all over the kingdom, and some from overseas. I used to hide there sometimes, whenever my Gran was angry."

Harry listened to Neville ramble enthusiastically about the different species currently in bloom in his greenhouse, but only with half an ear. It seemed, despite the fact they were all just starting their first year of apprenticeship, that everyone knew a bit of magic already, except him. Even Ron, who seemed the least enthusiastic about studying or learning in general, had shown off a few simple chants his father had taught him to help ensure a good harvest back at their family farm. He'd sung them over a thicket of blackberry bushes they'd found in the forest one day, hoping for a treat to pick next summer.

Harry was beginning to worry that he should've let Hermione talk him into buying a few more books to read over the summer. The Magic of the Wildes book was very informative about the different types of magic, but if hadn't actually taught him how to do anything.

The warm oats and honeyed bread he had for breakfast did little to calm his growing nerves, and he ventured up to the second floor corridor for Fundamentals of Sorcery with a jumble of anxious excitement flitting around in his stomach. Gripping his wand tightly in one hand and his satchel of supplies in the other, he eyed the gaggle of young apprentices milling around outside the appointed classroom with wary apprehension. Besides his own roommates, he recognized several of his other housemates amongst the throng, and a few boys he'd met during the week that he thought belonged to Hufflepuff.

Hermione scurried up to him and squeezed his arm tightly. "Isn't this exciting?" Her eyes glowed brightly in the dark, dusty hall. "I had to pinch myself this morning just to be sure I wasn't asleep in my bedroom back in London."

Harry nodded. "Aren't you a bit worried that we don't know any magic, though?"

She shook her head fiercely. "That's why it's called Fundamentals, Harry." She leaned in and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Besides, they accepted me knowing I was a muggleborn so they can't expect me to conjure up a rabbit on the first try. They know your circumstances too; it'll be the same for you."

"I don't think that's really the sort of thing they do here anyhow."

She jabbed him lightly in the shoulder. "You know what I mean."

The door swung open suddenly, and the herd of boys and girls filed raucously into the classroom. It was dark inside. A row of narrow windows lined one wall, but they must've been facing away from the sun; the only illumination came from a chandelier of flickering candles suspended from the ceiling. Three rows of slanted writing desks stretched neatly across the room, with sturdy wooden benches behind them. Each desk was big enough for two.

Ron, Seamus and Dean quickly found seats near the back, but Harry dutifully followed Hermione as she made her way to the front row and slid into place beside her. Neville trotted along behind them and hovered awkwardly next to the desk on their left, where a scrawny, spotty faced boy with a crooked nose was setting out his supplies.

"Mind if I take this seat?" he asked hesitantly. He scratched his nose and shifted from foot to foot.

The boy looked up and froze. With an ungainly jerk, he leapt out of his seat. "Of course, by all means." He scrambled with his parchments and knocked his inkpot onto the floor. A puddle of black ink pooled up around his feet. "I'll just find another desk."

"Err," Neville took a step backwards, his cheeks burning pink. "You don't have to do that."

"It's no trouble, sire, please." The fumbling boy bowed ungracefully, his head bobbing up and down like a troubled hen.

Sighing, Neville dropped his things on the ground and drooped onto the bench.

"Oh go sit over there, Donnegal. You're making a spectacle of yourself." A tall boy with shiny brown hair a lace collar around his neck strode forward and ushered the first boy away. He stopped by the extra seat and nodded politely. "If you don't mind, your grace?"

Neville smiled shyly. "Go ahead, Justin – and call me Neville if you want."

The newcomer puffed his chest and bowed fluidly before sliding into the seat. "If you wish. I suppose the etiquette is a bit different here than at court, isn't it?"

"You can forget about it completely, as far as I'm concerned. I usually can't remember half of it anyway."

Justin chortled as he unbuttoned his cloak and folded it neatly over the back of his seat. He seemed to be a very proper sort of boy, for an eleven year old. "I have to admit I was a trifle disappointed not to see you in the Hufflepuff lodgings after my sorting. Who did receive the honor, if I may ask?"

"I went to Gryffindor. It's nice, so far."

The Hufflepuff nodded. "Fitting I suppose. The Lady Longbottom will be pleased, I imagine."

The two quickly become embroiled in a conversation about several people Harry had never heard of, so he turned his attention back to Hermione.

"Poor Neville," she whispered. "It must be awful to always have people making such a fuss every time you walk into a room."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I seem to remember someone badgering him for an hour last night about what it was like to grow up in Lionsgate Castle."

Hermione huffed and rummaged through her bag. She unfurled a length of parchment and spread it out evenly on the desk. "Asking a few questions is not badgering."

"If you say so," he teased.

The door opened again and Master Dumbledore swept into the room in a swirl of dark indigo and purple velvet. "Good morning, apprentices," he greeted cheerfully as he strode to the front of the room. "I trust you all slept well after our festivities last night, and are eager and anxious to begin your first class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

A chorus of affirmatives filled the room, and the wizard chuckled. "Then let there be no further delay." He paced slowly around the front of the room, hands folded neatly behind his back. "Who can tell me why you have come here to study magic, instead of learning it at home from your parents, or your neighbors, as most young wizards and witches do?"

Harry and his classmates stirred restlessly. Bright blue eyes considered them all.

"Anyone?"

Hesitantly, a boy in the back row raised his hand.

Dumbledore smiled graciously. "Yes, Mr. Earlham?"

"We can learn more here, sir."

The old wizard titled his head and hummed. "That is true. We have more things to teach you, here, than would be available elsewhere. However, let me ask you this," he said, and held up a thin, bony finger, "what is the purpose of learning more?"

No one spoke.

"Why should you aspire to learn more, when every other witch and wizard makes do with the simple family magics passed down from mother to daughter, father to son?" Out of the sleeve of his dark, voluminous robes, the Head Wizard pulled a gnarled wand. It was long and slender, and almost black in color. With a small wave, the tip lit up in dim blue light. "Behold, the Lumos Charm. It is simple and effective, and a spell that many people learn, whether or not they are ever offered a formal apprenticeship."

Excited, Harry leaned forward with rapt attention.

"There is nothing wrong with simple spells. You will, without a doubt, have cause to use them every day," Dumbledore continued. "However, each and every one of you has the potential for so much more. This is why you have been accepted at Hogwarts. We will teach you, here, not only to use your magic to aid you in your daily lives, as your parents have done since you were babes, but to enrich and strengthen the world around you. Magic can be glorious in many ways, and most folk are only lucky enough to delve into the outermost layer of its secrets. You, young magicians, will make it sing under your fingertips."

The ebony wand danced through the air, the blue light burning brightly in its wake. It burst into a shower of stars, each one blazing around the room like brilliant fireflies. The glow was so bright, Harry had to look away. In the second row, Lavender Brown squealed in delighted appreciation.

Dumbledore holstered his wand and the lights disappeared. He paused, and stroked his long white beard thoughtfully. "To convert your thinking into the proper mindset for these pursuits will not be an easy task, for any of you. No matter your circumstances outside these walls, whether you are a prince or the humblest of farmers, you will all spend many hours toiling away in our estimable archives, deciphering tomes several hundred years older than anyone in this room. You will scribe essay upon essay, discussing the theory, mechanics and practical applications of everything you learn. You will think, and discuss, and debate, and think some more.

"A few of you may have had the privilege of some formal tutoring, but for most of you, this will be a monumental endeavor. This class, Fundamentals of Sorcery, is designed to aid you in your transformation from young wizards and witches into the formidable scholars and masters of sorcery that you were meant to be."

Hermione beamed and straightened in her seat. Harry rolled his eyes and nudged her. "If you get any more scholarly, they'll have to move your bed right up to the library."

Scowling, she shushed him.

Dumbledore resumed his slow pacing. "There are more types of magic and methods to harness it than we will have time to discuss in this class, or even, in your entire career here at Hogwarts. However, if we are to turn you into proper scholars, we must have some way to identity and sort that which we are studying. We will begin with an easy way to order various forms of magic that should be sufficient for your purposes as first year apprentices."

Diligently, Harry dipped his quill into his ink and held it poised over his parchment, ready to take notes. Hermione had been scrawling away for ten minutes, but he was fairly certain he wasn't going to be quizzed about anything they'd discussed so far.

"Most magics can be sorted into one of two categories - simple or complex. Who can explain the difference?"

From the back of the room, Letum Solwein, one of the Gryffindor boys not in Harry's dormitory, spoke up. "Simple magic is just what it sounds like - simple. It's usually quick and doesn't have many different steps. Complex magic, on the other hand, usually has several parts to it."

"Very good, Mr. Solwein," Dumbledore replied. His beard twitched as he smiled. "Simple magic and complex magic are very broad terms. As you progress in your studies, you will find that these categories will become increasingly less absolute. As in all things, we eventually encounter a murky area where one begins to bleed into the other. At that point, you may abandon these labels for a more multi-faceted classification system. For our purposes this year, however, they will be quite adequate and helpful.

"With that in mind, can anyone give me an example of simple magic, and explain why it would be considered so?"

Harry considered the types of magic he remembered from his book. They all seemed pretty complicated to him.

"Charms and enchantments," Hermione answered confidently. "Most can be performed with a defined set of wand movements and short incantation. As long as you've learned the proper gesture and pronunciations, the spells can be performed quickly without any other preparation."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. The same is true for most of the fields you will study this year. Transfigurations, though slightly more difficult to learn for the average wizard, are fairly easy to cast. Conjurations, also."

"What about potions?" someone asked. "They sure have a lot of ingredients."

The old wizard chuckled and stroked his beard. "That they do, at times. However, the potions you will brew this year, if you've elected to study with Master Snape, still fall under the broad cloak of simple magic. Though the ingredients may be numerous and the act of brewing the potion arduous, we still consider it one act."

Worried that the lesson seemed to be quickly flying over his head, Harry glanced discreetly around at his neighbors. Hermione was buried under her bushy curtain of curls, frantically scratching down their instructor's every word. It probably wasn't a good idea to compare himself to her, though. As far as he could tell, she understood everything. To his left, Neville and Justin were calmly taking down a few notes.

Harry frowned, and craned his head to look around. It was obvious enough to see who had received some form of private instruction and who hadn't, and it was the few privileged students, those who'd shown up with finely embroidered robes and shiny velvet cloaks, who looked the least confused. Most of the rest of the class, though, sported the same dazed expression he figured was on his own face.

Dumbledore appeared to notice the general confusion, and paused. "Perhaps you will find it easier if you understand what simple magic is not. Complex magic then - what is it?"

Hermione's hand flew into the air, but another girl began to speak before she could get out her answer.

"When we use two or more simple magics to perform magic on a grander scale, we would consider it complex magic."

"Splendid! A point for Hufflepuff, Miss Abbot, and another point to anyone who can recite a specific example."

"Arcane Rituals," Hermione blurt out quickly, "in which the practitioner often makes use of a runes and sigils, arithmancy, and a series of chants or incantations to produce the desired effect. They almost always require a great deal of preparation beforehand, and can take quite a long time to complete. The combination of several distinct fields of magic is what denotes a ritual as a complex form of magic."

The old wizard looked impressed, and cheerfully awarded Gryffindor a point before continuing his lecture. For the next half hour, they delved deeper into the distinction between the two categories, and discussed various ways in which simple magics could be used in concert to produce complex magic. Harry listened closely and tried to take careful notes, but by the end of the hour, his head was starting to throb, and much to his disappointment, he hadn't learned how to cast any spells.

As they dispersed out into the hall, Ron lumbered over to him and pulled him aside. "You understand any of that, mate? No wizard I ever knew went around talking about stuff like that; they just went and got on with it, you know? I feel as if my brain's about to slide out my eyeballs."

"Don't be disgusting Ronald." Hermione pushed through a throng of giggling young witches and hiked her bag of scrolls over her shoulder. "Anyway it all made perfect sense to me. You can read through my notes if you like."

"You'll have to explain it to me then," Harry said as they made their way to their next class, "because I'm with Ron. Some of it was alright, at first, but it all went belly up from there."

Charms & Enchantments met in a long narrow room over the inner east courtyard of the castle. It was a bit of a hike from Dumbledore's classroom, but the group of students managed to make it there on time. Long wooden pews were stacked up along one wall, facing a row of ornately carved bookcases and a sturdy oak desk on the other side. On the fourth wall, opposite the door, there was a large stained glass window depicting a dragon seated atop a mountain of gold.

An extremely short wizard with wispy white tufts of hair protruding from his ears waved the gathering crowd into the room. "Come in, come in," he urged in a squeaky voice. "Welcome to Charms & Enchantments; I'm Master Flitwick, your instructor. I'm delighted you've all chosen to take this class!"

Harry slid into a seat in the middle tier of bleachers between Ron and Seamus and behind Hermione and Lavender Brown. It looked like the class was comprised entirely of Gryffindors, and almost the entire first year contingent at that. He recognized nearly everyone streaming through the door from the tower, though there were several he'd not actually met properly yet.

Optimistically, he pulled his wand out of his pocket and stroked the smooth surface. Ollivander had done a remarkable job; there wasn't a rough edge anywhere. He set it reverently on the desk in front of him and waited while the buzz of young boys and girls settled down. Once everyone was seated, Flitwick hopped onto a podium in the center of the room and called them to order.

"Charms are the most numerous type of spell that you will ever encounter," he said, jumping right into the lesson. "If I could teach you a dozen a day for the rest of your tenure here, we would have only covered the smallest drop in an endless ocean of incantations. There are thousands of charms, and new ones are being invented every year. So then, what is it? What is a charm?"

With a deft flick of his wrist, a short, stubby wand popped out of his sleeve. "Might I have a volunteer?"

Several students raised their hands, Harry included, but the instructor choice a pale witch with rosy pink cheeks and long auburn hair. Shyly, the girl slid out of her seat and stood in the center of the room.

"What is your name, my dear?"

The girl squeaked, and her pink cheeks burned bright scarlet. "Gwen Robbins."

Flitwick wiggled his feathered eyebrows and smiled. "Miss Robbins, I am going to cast a spell at you, but you need not fear - it will not harm you. Alright?"

Gwen nodded and bit her bottom lip.

"I would like everyone to take note of Miss Robbins' lovely red hair, please." The wizard stepped back and pointed his wand at the girl's head. She stiffened and shut her eyes.

Harry watched carefully, eager to try the spell once the demonstration was over.

"Muto Capillus Prasinum."

Gwen's hair turned green, and a wave of soft titters filled the room. The girl in question shrieked; she grabbed a fistful of her long locks and stared at in with horrified disbelief etched across her face.

Master Flitwick patted her gently on the shoulder. "Not to worry; it's not permanent. Now, can anyone tell us whether or not that was a charm?"

Hermione's hand flew to the ceiling.

"Yes, young lady, and your name first please."

"It's Granger, sir," she answered. "That was not a charm."

"Oh ho!" The small wizard's smile was wide. "And why not?"

"A charm is a spell that is used to bestow properties to an object that it would normally not have."

"Miss Robbins' hair is normally not green, is it not?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, but lifted her chin and carried on. "That is true, sir, but the spell you cast was an enchantment, not a charm."

Flitwick beamed. "Very good, Miss Granger. I believe that deserves a point for Gryffindor. Would you care to explain to your classmates what an enchantment is, and how it differs from a charm?"

"An enchantment is a spell that is used to ensorcel that which is alive, to change its shape, size, colour or any other physical property. A charm applies only to inanimate objects. If you had turned her dress green, instead of her hair, then that would have been a charm."

"Splendid! Everyone copy that down, it's extremely important." The wizard removed the enchantment and ushered his stricken young volunteer back to her seat. "Now, before we begin casting any of these spells, I'd like to discuss their components. There are two parts to every charm or enchantment - the wand movement, and the incantation. You can, of course, cast either of these spells without a wand, but that is something we'll discuss once you're a bit further along in your studies. So, to begin - why does it matter how we move our wands when incanting? What does the pattern signify?"

Harry sighed and picked up his quill. Admittedly, taking notes about magic spells was certainly more interesting than copying down his times tables, or memorizing all the countries in Africa, but he was eager to start getting his hands dirty. Sadly, the end of class came and went with his wand sitting forlornly on the desk.

As they were packing up their supplies, Master Flitwick waved his own wand and thin scrolls of parchment popped into existence in front of each student. "For our class on Wednesday, please commit to memory the incantations for these five spells. Also, I would like you to write a short essay, no more than a paragraph or two for each entry, describing what the spell does and whether it is a charm or an enchantment. I expect the first should be an easy one, if you've been paying attention."

Harry unfurled the paper. Listed in elegant script were five short latinesque phrases, the first being the one the instructor had used in his demonstration, Muto Capillus.

As they followed the exodus of students into the hallways, Ron groaned. "How are we supposed to find out what these spells are? Couldn't he just tell us?"

"We'll go to the library, of course," Hermione answered.

The redhead gaped at her. "But the library's huge! It'll take ages to look through all those books."

"Oh honestly, Ronald. You don't have to read them all at once," she huffed as she maneuvered them out of the way of the milling students. "The archivist should be able to help us find what we're looking for."

"I didn't know there was an archivist," Harry said. He'd never seen anyone in there except other apprentices. "Is that like a librarian?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, her name's Madame Pince. I've spoken to her several times already; she's very helpful, if you promise to treat the books properly."

Lavender broke away from the herd and bounced over to join the, Eugenie Fetherwight trailing behind her. "Well that was certainly a lot more interesting than that stuffy old tutor Daddy hired last winter," she said. She tossed her long brown braid over her shoulder. "Poor Gwen Robbins, though! I'd be traumatized if I were her!'

"Don't see what the big deal is," Ron said. "Flitwick changed her hair back."

The girl tutted and rolled her eyes dramatically. "Of course you don't, you're a boy. Boys never understand that sort of thing."

Eugenie tittered and smoothed her wavy blonde tresses. She'd tied them into plaits with a pretty green ribbon that matched her robes. "Lav, didn't your brother turn your hair pink last spring?"

The brunette scowled. "Yes, and he didn't know how to change it back. I could've killed him - he's lucky Mum and Daddy didn't have any other sons!"

Neville chuckled shyly. "Is that why you were gone from court for a month?"

Lavender blushed but held her head high. "I'm honored that you noticed, your grace."

Neville ducked his chin and coughed.

"She chopped it all off and had to ask her mum for a tonic to regrow it," Eugenie whispered theatrically.

"Well I couldn't very well go walking around looking like a pink puffleskein, could I?"

"What's a puffleskein?" Ron asked. He looked bewildered.

"Oh just a fairy tale," Lavender said with a shrug. "Anyway we better be off; don't want to be late for Hearth Studies. Ortense Vicar, in third year, said Mistress Oldridge takes points if you're not in your seat when she arrives. Shall we be off, Hermione?"

"I'm not taking that class. I've a free period just now, actually; I thought I'd get started on the essay Master Flitwick's set."

"Really!" Lavender looked a bit taken aback. "I'm surprised your mother didn't recommend it! Mine was adamant I enroll; honestly I think she'd be satisfied if it was the only class I took. You know, I'm sure Mistress McGonagall could switch you in if you went and talked to her. It's only the first class, after all; I doubt you'll miss too much."

Hermione hugged her bag to her chest and set her jaw. "I'd rather not give up any of my other classes; I had a terrible time only choosing four."

The other girl hesitated, and shared a quick glanced with her blonde companion. "Well if you're sure," she trailed off.

"I am, thank you."

"Alright, well we'll just take our leave, then." She caught Harry's eye and smiled sweetly, before dipping into a quick, childlike curtsey. "My lords."

Flabbergasted, Harry smiled awkwardly and waved. "See you in the tower."

Neville, who was standing beside him, stared after the two girls as they swept down the hall. "I wish she'd stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"All that bowing, and all that."

"Couldn't you just tell her to stop?"

The boy shrugged. "I can't remember if it'd be rude or not to ask. Girls are so complicated."

Hermione huffed. "I thought you were a perfect gentleman, Neville."

The shy wizard-prince turned pink and scuffed his boots against the floor. A group of students pushed past them, shouting loudly down the hall.

"Does anyone else have a class next hour?" Harry asked the remaining ensemble.

"No, thank Merlin," Ron exclaimed. "I don't think my brain could take it."

Harry knew how he felt; he was rather looking forward to a brief bit of respite before lunch. Magic school, so far, wasn't turning out exactly how he'd expected. It was brilliant, of that there was no doubt, but it was obviously going to be a lot more work that he'd thought.

"Does anyone want to come to the library with me to work on the Charms homework?" Hermione asked.

Ron groaned. "It's not due 'til Wednesday, Hermione."

The girl bristled. "That doesn't mean you have to wait until the last minute. Who knows how much other homework we'll get. I don't know about you, but I still have two other classes this afternoon, and four tomorrow."

"I'll go with you," Neville piped up. "Do you want to come, Harry?"

Shaking his head, he declined. "I think I need to give my brain a rest; it feels like jelly."

Ron cheered. "Here's to that, mate."

"Suit yourself," Hermione replied. "See you at lunch."

The common room was almost empty when Harry and Ron returned to Gryffindor territory, except for a trio of older boys clustered around the noticeboard by the great hearth, and Katherine Bell, a second year they'd met at the Harvest Banquet. The boys laughed and turned around. One of them was Percy, Ron's brother.

"Ronald," he greeted. He gestured at a long sheet of parchment stuck to the board. "Mistress McGonagall has posted the chore assignment schedule. I'd sign up for something now, if I were you. It's first come, first serve until they calculate the rankings at the end of the week."

"Thanks, Percy," Ron said.

The tall redhead nodded perfunctorily and strode out the door after his companions.

They wandered over to the fireplace and looked at the parchment. It was a very long list - five pages in all. Several of the items were already claimed. As they perused the options, the parchment sizzled and the name Bertram Pippington appeared in gold script next to an entry listed as Archives – Reshelving, which had previously been blank. The line faded into dull grey.

"Better pick one quick," Harry warned. Another entry, Greenhouse One – Windows, turned gold and then grey as one Agnes Woolsbury claimed the task. "How's Stable Duty – Miscellaneous sound to you? There's two spots."

Ron shrugged. "Fine with me. " He took a quill and scrawled his name underneath Harry's, and squinted at the entry below it. "Got to be better than working in the laundry."

"I didn't know there was a laundry," Harry said with surprise. He'd washed his robes once in the lake, and hung them over a tree branch to dry. They'd still been a little damp at the end of the day.

"Me either. Wonder where it is."

"It's in the dungeons. If you bring your things down to be washed make sure you charm your name on first, or you'll never get them back."

Harry turned around. Katherine was standing behind them, peering over their shoulders at the list. She darted between them and signed up to work in the buttery, whatever that was.

"Thanks, Katherine," Harry said.

She wrinkled her nose. "You can call me Katie. Everybody does."

"Alright, Katie," he grinned. "Have you had any classes yet today?"

"Just one – Sigils, Symbols & Scripts. I've got four after lunch, though."

That didn't sound like one of the options on his course letter over the summer, and he said so.

The brunette shook her head. "It's not offered until your second year, I think. At least, it was new on my list this year."

"Nice you have a break all morning before an afternoon like that," Ron said with a grimace. "Four classes in one afternoon sounds awful."

"Yeah, I'm not looking forward to it. I've got Snape last too, just my luck."

"He's the Potions Master, isn't he?" Harry asked. He thought he remembered seeing the name on his schedule. "Is he pretty tough, then?"

Katie shrugged. "He's not too bad, really, just rather strict, and he assigns a lot of work outside of class time."

"Glad I'm not taking Potions then!" Ron exclaimed. "I've got enough work already, and I've only gone to two classes!"

Katie grinned. "Wait 'til you have Master Binns – you haven't yet, have you?"

The boys shook their heads.

"I didn't think so. He's alright, but you better stock up on quills and parchment for his class; you'd think he had nothing to do all day except read essays."

Ron groaned. "Well that's just great, that is. When have we got him, Harry? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I think so."

They said goodbye to Katie and climbed up the stairs and through the deserted corridor to their dormitory. Ron flung his pack carelessly on the floor by the foot of his bed and dove face-first onto the stuffed mattress. He groaned wearily and hugged the cushions, then rolled over and kicked off his scuffed boots. They hit the floor with a loud thump.

"I'm starting to rethink all this apprentice nonsense," he said. "I ought to have stayed home and become a farmer, like my dad."

Harry chuckled, and stooped over his trunk to unpack his supplies with a bit more care. He frowned at the inside of the wooden chest; how had everything gotten to be such a muddle in just a week? He set his bundle of notes on his bed and started sorting through the mess. "Is that what you would've done if you hadn't been accepted here, then?"

Ron propped himself up on his elbow. "Maybe. The farm will be my brother Bill's eventually, though, and he'll have his own family to fill up all the beds. I don't think he'd mind if I stayed on for a while, but there wouldn't be room if I had my own kids, you know?"

"What will your other brothers do?"

"I don't know. Charlie's keen on Midge Wellby, the goatherd's daughter down the next valley. He's been hired on there for a while now, and the old man's only got two daughters, so he'll probably get the steading if he marries her." Ron screwed up his face in disgust. He clearly didn't think much of young Miss Wellby. "Percy's here, o'course. I bet he'll jot off as some nobleman's secretary or some such after he's done - be a dream come true for him."

"What about the twins?" Harry threw a lone knit sock to a small pile destined for the laundry room, if he could find it. Unfortunately, he had no idea where the other one had gotten to.

"I don't know; I don't think they've thought about it much. They're never really serious about anything. Drives my mum spare."

"You said you had a little sister, too, didn't you? What will she do?"

"Marry somebody, probably." The redhead shrugged. "What about you? What would you have done if you hadn't gotten a letter for Hogwarts?"

Harry carefully slid a set of glass phials that had spilled out of their case back into the leather packet, and wondered what the Dursleys were doing right then. Uncle Vernon would be at work, of course, reigning behind his desk at Grunnings, and Dudley had probably gone off to Smeltings. Aunt Petunia would be all alone in the house for the day. He wondered if she ever thought of him, and then snorted. Only to rejoice, probably. "I don't know," he said to Ron. "I'd still be in school for a while yet."

"Muggles have schools like this?"

"Not nearly as brilliant as this," Harry grinned. "Even with all the notes we had to take this morning."

The other boy groaned again and flopped back down onto the mattress. He clutched his forehead dramatically. "I can't believe Hermione wanted to start the homework already. She's nutters, that one."

"Neville too, though I suspect he's heard a lot of that material already. He had a tutor, you know."

Ron sat up suddenly and picked at a frayed edge on his coverlet. "You two have been awful chummy since he got here," he commented. "I've suppose you've met a lot of kings and princes before, in the muggle world?"

Harry stared at his friend, and laughed. "No, not a one. There wasn't a king where I lived anyway - just a queen and her sons. I only ever saw them on the telly, though."

"The what?"

"Err, just from a distance. Not up close."

"How can you be so friendly with Longbottom, then? It makes me nervous just being around him."

Harry thought about it. He supposed it helped that he hadn't known Neville was anybody special when they first met. "He's just a boy, the same as the rest of us. Give him a chance."

"But he's the son of a king! I don't know how to act around somebody like that. The noblest person I ever met before I came here was the tax collector that comes round twice a year, and he wasn't nothing."

"Just act like you do with me, then."

Ron gaped at him and waved his arms wildly. "I can't do that! You've gone round the twist."

"Why not?"

The other boy sputtered. "It's - it wouldn't be – it'd be inappropriate, or something like that."

Harry shrugged, and stacked his two books on his bedside table. He really ought to get more, now that he had a brief preview of how involved his classes were going to be. Hermione had had the right idea after all. There was the library of course, but it might be nice to have a few things to read in the comfort of his cozy bed. "I don't think Neville would mind. He told me he can never remember what's proper anyway."

"You're charming my chickens!"

He looked up, startled. "What? What chickens?"

"Having me on, I mean!" Ron explained exasperatedly.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What's that got to do with chickens?"

Ron rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at him. Harry ducked, grinning. "Alright, alright, I'm joking! Not about Neville though; I meant that bit. Honestly Ron, just treat him like you treat the others. He just wants to be normal, like us."

"I don't know, Harry. I'll try, but if I end up in the dungeons strung up by my toenails because I offended his royal highness, I'm going to wallop you."

"I'll make sure to stay a chain's length away, then."

Another pillow soared across the room. "Prat," Ron groused with good nature. "I'm going to take a quick kip. Wake me up in time for lunch, alright?"


"Really, Harry, you ought to have come to the library with us," Hermione said as they crossed the outer west courtyard on their way to Ancient Runes. Seamus and Dean trailed behind them, uninterested in any discussion about homework or assignments. "We found some very fascinating enchantments in the library, didn't we Neville?"

Neville nodded. "There was a spell to turn a person's limbs into tree branches, and another to make a tree look like a person."

"That second one is a charm, of course," Hermione cut in.

"Where they on Flitwick's list?" Harry wondered as they passed the small armory and ducked through a narrow alley behind it.

"No, we saw them while we were looking for those," Neville said. "He's was right about how many charms and enchantments there are; we must've looked at hundreds, and we've only found two of the ones for the assignment so far."

"I'll show you which books we searched through, if you want," Hermione offered.

They slowed when they reached the alcove that housed the Runes classroom. A few students, no more than six or seven, were already waiting in the courtyard outside the door. Harry groaned inwardly as he recognized Draco Malfoy standing among them. It was probably too much to ask to never have run into the arrogant sot again, but he'd been hopeful after his first two classes. Maybe the git wouldn't be as bad, today.

"Longbottom," Malfoy drawled lazily. He bowed, but the gesture was more mocking than respectful. His eyes paused for a moment Hermione, and then slid right over her, without a word. He turned his attention to Harry, and nodded. "Potter."

"Malfoy," Harry replied neutrally.

Neville nodded back nervously and stood to the side, fidgeting. Hermione frowned. She'd obviously noticed the snub. It hadn't exactly been very subtle.

Another well-dressed boy broke away from the group and came forward to stand beside Malfoy. The long curls atop his head were thick, inky black, and paired with his pale white skin have the impression of the dark night sky surrounding a full moon. He tipped his head briefly to Neville, and stared at Harry with icy grey eyes. "Aren't you going to introduce us, Draco?" he asked softly.

Malfoy let out a bored sigh and gestured theatrically. "Potter, meet Cygnus Black. Cygnus, this is Potter. Not quite what you were expecting is it?"

Black didn't reply. Something burned in his eyes, eerie and cold.

"Uh, pleased to meet you," Harry said awkwardly. The collar of his robes was starting to itch uncomfortably on his neck.

Finally, the dark-haired boy nodded stiffly. "And you, cousin."

Harry reeled, certain he had heard incorrectly. Cousin. Had his father had a sister? No, surely Neville would have mentioned that. He blinked, and drunk in every detail of the aloof aristocrat again. He noted the sharp cheekbones and firmly set jaw, and the thick, dark lashes that framed the boy's eyes. They looked nothing alike, except for the colour of their hair. He sucked in a breath and opened his mouth.

Before he could ask what the boy meant, the door banged open and a tall, middle aged woman with fair skin and thick reddish gold braids beckoned them inside. He'd promised to sit with Hermione, but he pulled Neville aside and marched him to a long table in the back of the room before either of them could protest.

"What did he mean?" he hissed as everyone settled into place. "Why did he call me cousin?"

Neville bit his lip. "You have a lot of cousins, Harry. Malfoy is your cousin too, technically, and so am I, though we're a bit more distantly related."

"How distant?"

"Very. A dozen generations back at least."

"What about Black then, and Malfoy?"

Mistress Babbling swept by them, her long green skirt brushing the side of their table. Neville glanced at her warily as she passed by, and ducked his head. "I don't remember exactly."

"I thought you had to recite everybody's family tree with your tutor," Harry pressed urgently. "Come on Neville, I have to know if he's really my cousin or not."

"He really is Harry. He wouldn't make a mistake like that. That sort of thing is very important to those two. "

"What sort of thing? Us being cousins?"

"Listen Harry, can we talk about it later? We're going to get in trouble." The boy looked warily at the front of the room, where their instructor was indeed standing a stern expression and crossed arms.

The noise gradually descended into a buzz, and then a murmur, and then silence.

"Good afternoon. I am Mistress Babbling," the woman began briskly. Her accent was strange and unplaceable, something born out of some harsh, rugged country that lived in the cold. Her name didn't seem to quite suit her. "Runes are not toys for children. If you misuse them, I will know, and be severely displeased. Do you understand?"

The apprentices nodded. Babbling's gold-flecked eyes glittered brightly in the dim light of the room. "Good." She turned towards the dark slate board fixed to the wall behind her. With a long wooden pointer, she scratched out a series of lines on its surface. "We begin with Old Futhark. Fehu. The Cow. For wealth, prosperity, and success. You will copy these down."

There was a small scramble as the students hurried to comply.

"Next, Uruz. The Auroch. Vigor, power, speed. Thurisaz. The Giant. Strength, conflict, destruction."

For twenty minutes, the Mistress drew rune after rune on the board. She named them quickly, asked no questions, and did not pause for those who fell behind. Halfway through trying to draw and spell Nauthiz, Harry gave up and moved on to the next one. He'd get the notes from Hermione. Finally, after Othala, they stopped.

"There are twenty-four runes in this series."

Harry counted the scribbles on his parchment. He only had eighteen.

"You will learn them before our class on Friday. I will test you. Also, you will learn the origin of the series and each rune specifically. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," the assembled apprentices chorused.

Her eyes glinted. "Good. Now, a demonstration." Out of the pocket of her apron, she pulled a delicate glass dragon statuette, and a wand. She tapped the figurine. "I have removed the unbreakable charm. Now there is nothing magic about this dragon." She held it up for all of them to see, and opened her fingers. The delicate glass shattered on the floor, spilling into a thousand pieces.

Half the class jumped with surprise. The corner of the Mistress's mouth turned up slightly. She waved her wand, and the pieces swirled into the air and knit themselves back together.

"Now we will draw the runes," she explained. She set the dragon down on the table nearest the front of the room. "Stand up if you cannot see."

At three points around the dragon, she etched a single rune into the wood with her wand. "You may use any tool to draw the runes. You do not need a wand; it is merely convenient, if you have one." She linked the runes with a circle, and took a large mallet from its resting place along the wall. "Now, who would like to try?"

A brawny boy in a tattered tunic gamely volunteered, and swung the hammer down on the table with as much force as an eleven year old could muster. It connected with the statue with a loud crash. The table shook, but the dragon stood untouched. The boy stared at it in shock, and wound up for another swing. This time, he came at it from the side. The statue flew out of the circle and shattered against the far wall.

Babbling waved her wand and the dragon reformed. She drew another set of runes just inside the first, and linked them with a smaller circle. "Who is next?"

Seamus leapt up from his seat and swaggered to the front of the room. He hefted the mallet like a broadsword, and brought it down so hard Harry was afraid the table would break, leaving the dragon sitting in a pile of splinters. He needn't have worried - now, the hammer refused to even touch the little statue. It was as if it was encased in an invisible, impenetrable dome, shielding it from harm.

"As you see, the runes are very powerful. Again, you will not play with them like toys," the teacher warned. She fixed them all with a fierce glare and sent everyone back to their seats. "There are hundreds of different combinations that can be used for different purposes. On Friday, you will bring with you an essay - which combination of runes will you use to protect the dragon, and why? You may describe more than one if you wish to make me happy. Do you understand? Good. Now you may go; we are done."

They gathered up their things and herded out the door.

"Did you see that, mates? That was bloody amazing – best class so far!" Seamus crowed. He rushed up behind Harry and slung his arm around his shoulder. "You should've had a go, Harry!"

"I wonder if we'll get to try it again on Friday with our own rune set," Dean commented.

"Anybody see which runes she was using? I didn't get a good look."

"You were closer than anybody else," Harry pointed out.

Seamus grinned widely. "Truth be told, lads, I was a bit more interested in swinging the big hammer."

"Where are you off to now, Harry?" Dean asked.

"I've got another break until three o'clock, and then I've got Elemental Magic."

Seamus nodded and clapped Harry on the back as they parted ways. "We'll see you there then; we're off to Bestiary this hour."

"I'm headed there too - do you mind if I walk with you?" Neville spoke up nervously.

Seamus and Dean froze for a moment. "Err, sorry Longbottom, didn't see you there. You can come with us, if you want."

"Thanks, I'm not sure I remember the way."

"Right, well let's be off then. Ta, Harry, Hermione."

Harry looked around for Black or Malfoy before following Hermione across the courtyard, but the sunlit expanse of grey flagstones were empty of life. He sighed, resigned to the idea that he'd have to wait to talk to Neville later before getting any answers.

"Do you think he's really your cousin, Harry?" Hermione asked as they headed into the castle and up to the library. She wanted to start on the Runes assignment, and Harry was too tired to protest. "Your father didn't have any siblings, did he?"

Harry shook his head. If he'd had any aunts or uncles on his father's side, surely they would have taken him in when his parents died. "I don't think so. I really don't know much about him, though. All my aunt knew was his name, and she never liked to talk about him, or my mum."

Hermione bit her lip and glanced at him askance. Her eyes shone with compassion. "How would you feel if Cygnus Black really was related to you?"

He stopped. All his life he'd wished and dreamed for some family other than the horrible Dursleys, but his first impression of the Black boy left a little to be desired. If only Ron had been his cousin, or one of the other lads. "I don't know. What did you think of him?"

"Well," she hesitated. "He seemed a bit - well a bit stuffy, honestly. I'm sure he's a perfectly nice boy though, once you get past all that."

Harry's lip twitched into a small smile. "He was a bit, wasn't he?"

"And that Malfoy!" she continued indignantly, building up steam. Her curls shook around her shoulders as she spoke. "He's quite rude isn't he? Did you see how he just ignored me, like I wasn't even there?"

"Yeah, he's an arrogant sot, if you ask me."

"Harry!"

"Well you said it first!"

"I didn't say it like that."

"It's true, though."

She glared at him, but her eyes lacked the scolding fire he knew she was capable of. He grinned cheekily, and a smile fought its way through her stern demeanor. They chatted cheerfully the rest of the way to the library, and managed to make fairly good headway on the essay before Harry had to leave for Elemental Magic.

The class met in a small solarium near the west greenhouse. A recessed amphitheater had been carved into the grey flagstones around a gurgling spring, providing the only notable seating in the room. The clear water reflected well the warm rays of sunlight shining in through the many etched glass windows along the walls. Harry stepped through arched doorway and took a deep breath. The air smelled of dew dropped mornings and crisp summer days.

Neither Hermione nor Neville were taking the class, so he sat on the highest bleacher of the round theatre with Ron, Seamus and Dean. As they were chatting, a familiar face plopped down on his other side.

"It was Harry, wasn't it?" the boy began. He unhooked his pack and set it by his feet. "You remember me, don't you? We met last week outside the Headwizard's office."

"Terry, right?" Harry grinned. "How'd it go? Get Slytherin?"

"Nah, ended up in Ravenclaw. It's not so bad though. We're in the far tower, behind the walkway along the eastern battlements. Have you been up that way yet?"

"Don't think so. We haven't Ron, have we?"

Ron shook his head. "I've been lost plenty of times though, so might not have known it."

The Ravenclaw shrugged. "You should check it out some time. Let me know, and I'll show you around. The top floor of the tower is actually an eyrie; they say Rowena used to keep small herd of Hippogriffs up there."

"Oy, now that'd be something to see," Seamus cut in. "Don't suppose there are any of 'em left up there?"

Terry sighed. "It's abandoned now, far as anybody knows. It's a bit tricky to get to; looks like somebody tried to seal it off at one point, but some of the wards must've started failing."

"Wonder if ol' Godric left any secrets in our tower, lads."

They made a few tentative plans to start checking around the common room and dormitory for hidden passages before a grey-robed wizard entered a room through a small wooden door along the far wall. He was far younger than any of Harry's instructors so far, with long chestnut brown hair and a matching coat of neatly trimmed whiskers on his chin.

"Good afternoon young elementalists," he sang cheerfully. "Are we all ready to begin our journey into the world of fire and brimstone? Are we prepared to leash the forces of the gusting maelstrom and the terrible typhoon?"

Seamus cheered, along with half a dozen other boys. Harry grinned, glad he'd decided against taking Conjurations instead.

The wizard clapped his hands and rubbed them together excitedly. "Wonderful! I'm exceedingly pleased to hear it. Elemental magic is a magic of passion! You can't whisk up a whirlwind without feeling the wind in your bones and the fire in your heart!" He hopped down the theatre steps and stood near the small pond.

Harry leaned forward, hoping that finally, he might be able to do some actual magic.

"Now, I am Master Dodds, and I have been studying this type of magic since I was a mere lad at my mother's breast. She was a very powerful fire witch, you see. Nearly burned us all alive when I was a tot. Completely by accident, I assure you; she's really a very lovely woman."

The gathered students laughed and snickered.

"Now, then, before we work our way up to summoning the inferno, we do need to go over a few things."

Half the students groaned, and the instructor smiled and held up his hands. "I know, I know - nobody enjoys taking notes. I promise you, though, after this first class, we will oftentimes meet out on the grounds for some practical lessons. For a novice, being able to see and smell and feel the elements around you is key." He circled around the pond, and folded his hands behind his back. "So, let's get started! What is Elemental Magic? It's quite obvious, I think, but we must make sure everyone understands the basics."

"Elemental Magic," he continued when none of the students answered, "is magic performed by invoking one or more of the four major elements - Fire, Water, Earth and Wind. Does anybody know what the difference is between Aguamenti and Elemental Water Magic?"

Dodds paused and regarded them all with a twinkle in his brown eyes. "Both are perfectly acceptable means of producing water, for example, if one finds themselves wanting to fill up a tub."

"I'm going to kiss him if he shows us how to do it, I swear I will," Terry whispered.

"Aguamenti, of course, is not elemental magic at all. It is a conjuration, and something you will learn with Mistress McKinnon if you've signed up for her class. It creates water by forcing it to appear in the universe - such is the nature of all conjurations. Elemental magic, on the other hand, uses water already present in the world. In this way, it is oftentimes stronger than a simple conjuring spell. A powerful elementalist is limited only by the amount of water that can be found in our universe, which, I might add, is plenty enough for anything your heart desires to do. A conjurer can produce no more water than his inner strength allows him. Creating something from nothing is always more difficult than using that which is already there."

"Why do people use Aquamenti at all then?" a girl in the front row asked.

"Not everyone has the aptitude for elemental magic," Dodds explained with a shrug. "It takes a certain frame of mind and spirit to connect with the elements around you, and not everyone finds themself able to do it. That, or they haven't taken my class." He winked, and the girl giggled.

"If you'll look here," the man continued, and hopped up the bleachers towards a small desk in the corner of the room. He scooped a small potted plant into one hand and held the other outstretched in the air. After moment of concentration, and growing blue ball formed and hovered in the air above his empty palm. It rippled gently like the pool of water in the middle of the room. After a moment, Harry noticed that the plant started to wilt and brown.

"Wicked," Ron breathed.

"Always remember," Master Dodds warned with a serious face, "you are not taking these elements from nothing. It is very easy to destroy that which you are trying to preserve."

Harry watched the plant with a vague sense of sadness. It had done nothing to deserve its starvation.

"Thankfully, it is also very easy to sooth any blunders or scars you may accidentally carve into the face of the earth!" The blue ball of water shimmered and danced through the air towards the drooping fern. It swirled around the limping green fronds and disappeared. The plant stretched itself out again, swaying gently towards the light coming in through the windows.

"Master Dodds, sir," a chubby boy in a blue tunic raised his hand. "Where are we to get the water from if we're trying to take a bath? Do we have to bring a plant up with us?"

The wizard chuckled. His laugh was deep and loud. "No, no, nothing as tedious as that. Although you may, if you wish, feel free to decorate your lavatory as you see fit. I'm sure Mistress Sprout wouldn't begrudge you a few samples from her greenhouses. No, Mister - what is your name, lad?"

The boy flushed. "Hopkins, sir - Wayne Hopkins."

"Well, young Mr. Hopkins, consider this. Have you never felt the sticky damp air of a warm summer day? The chill of a misty morning fog in the spring? Water is all around us, above us and under our feet. You might find the air little drier should you take a few drops for your morning ablutions, but go on and send it back again when you're done and all will be well."

Hopkins didn't look convinced. "Is it really that easy?"

"Of course it is, once you get the hang of it. That's the trick, as I said - not everyone has the knack. Elemental magic is a living, breathing, changing form of magic that you direct through your breath, and your connection with the magical energies around you. To help you begin to feel these energies, I'd like to start with a few simple exercises. Everyone spread out; make sure you've enough room to relax. Set your things down, you won't need them for now. Is everyone ready? Good; now close your eyes."

Dutifully, Harry closed his eyes.

Master Dodds dropped his voice to a soothing rhythm. "Take a deep breath. Feel the air fill your nose and spread through your chest. Listen to your heart beat in your ears. That is your blood, the water of life, moving throughout your body. Breath evenly - good - and try to slow the pounding of your heart; we want to create a symphony between your lungs and your heart."

Somebody snickered and Harry slit his eyes to peek around the room, wondering if everyone else felt as silly as he did.

"Eyes closed please. Forget about your classmates. Forget about me. Feel only the rough stone beneath you and the warmth of the sun on your face. Breathe in and breathe out."

They continued in that vein for the rest of the class. After the first few minutes, the restless shuffling of his classmates settled down and Harry started to feel a bit sleepy. He didn't feel any sort of energy floating through the air, which was rather disappointing. So far, Elemental Magic seemed the most exciting of all his classes, and he didn't want to be in the group that couldn't figure out how to do it.

"Alright, that's enough. We've only a few minutes left; you may all open your eyes," Master Dodds said suddenly.

Harry opened his eyes and shielded them from the bright light coming in through the windows. The time had passed more quickly than he'd thought as he sat there daydreaming. Around the room, the other students were blinking sleepily and stretching. Ron was snoring.

"Now, you've no assignment for next class, other than to practice this little meditation. You may feel silly now, but I promise you, you will not succeed in this class until you can connect with the elemental energy existing around you. The sooner you accomplish that, the sooner I can begin to teach you the fun stuff. Until then, I'm afraid you'll have to continue your daily sojourn down to the lake if you want any bathwater."

"They can't make it easy, can they?" Terry scowled half-heartedly.

Seamus chuckled. "Least you don't have to kiss him now, mate."

The Ravenclaw grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Well, maybe Mistress McKinnon will be more obliging. Any of you lot off for Conjurations next?"

"I am," Dean answered.

"How many classes have you had today, Dean?" Harry asked with surprise.

"This will be my sixth," the boy groaned. "I've only got two all day tomorrow though, thank Merlin."

Terry whistled appreciatively. "That's quite a load."

Harry was done for the day, and quite thankful. His day was full enough with just four classes. He squeezed Dean on the shoulder and waved him off. "Hang in there, alright. We'll save you a spot at dinner."

"Oh before I forget," Dodds called out as they all made their way towards the door, "on Wednesday we will have our class out on the grounds, so we will meet down by the lake. There's no need to come here first, just head on out there."

"What if it's raining?" someone asked.

"Are we elementalists or are we not? We will meet on the grounds, rain or shine!" The exuberant wizard grinned and waved them out. "Off with you now, I've another class coming in this next hour."

Excited to be done with classes for the day, Harry dumped his stuff in the tower and snuck outside with Ron. The sun was warm and inviting after a long day cooped up in dim dusty classrooms. A week spent wandering around the grounds and the forest had spoiled him; it was good to be outdoors again. After growing up in the unimaginative, concrete streets of Little Whinging with only Petunia's dingy little garden to explore, he didn't think he'd ever get tired of the vast beauty and endless opportunity of the rugged mountain landscape. They climbed the hill around the rear side of the castle and stretched out in the tall grass by the paddocks there. The sky was bluer than he remembered it every being, back in the muggle world, with huge fluffy clouds drifting hither and thither with lazy grace. He took a deep breath and folded his arms behind his head. Briefly, he thought about practicing Master Dodds' exercise, but he couldn't summon up the energy.

Ron picked a long blade of wheat grass and stuck it in his mouth. "I feel like I could sleep for a week after all that learning. I've never been lectured so much in my life, and you haven't met my mum - she never stops."

"Can you believe Dean had six classes today?" Harry asked. "I'm tired enough with just the four."

"Poor sod," Ron agreed. "Hope he at least gets to do something interesting. All I did today was take notes."

"Me too, mostly. I can't believe it's the end of the first day and I still don't know how to cast any spells."

A shadow fell over them, blocking out the sun. Harry squinted and shielded his eyes.

"Afternoon, lads," the figure greeted cheerfully. "I saw you've both signed on with me for the week."

Ron sat up and spit out his grass. "Oh hullo, Melrick. How's that black mare doing?"

"Oh she's alright; still favorin' her left foreleg a bit but she'll be fine in a few days," the stablemaster replied. He hefted a tangle of tack over his should and wiped his brow with a linen rag. "Say if you're not busy at the moment, what say you come help me out until they open up the hall for dinner - I'll consider your chores paid up for the week if you'll give me a quick hand."

"Really? That'd be great," Harry answered. He stood up and brushed himself off. "What do you need us to do?"

"Follow me up to the stables and I'll show ya. It's not much; thought I'd give you a bit of break your first week of classes."

"That's real grand of you, Melrick, thanks," Ron cheered.

They followed the horseman through the field and past the fenced in paddocks where a few of last spring's foals were playing in the warm sun. A cute, white nosed filly with big brown eyes whinnied playfully as they passed by and chased after them until the fence turned. Harry waved at her and promised to come back later.

Melrick pointed them towards a large bushel of hay that was stacked along the outside of the barn. "If you could spread a bit of that there wheatgrass in each of the stalls, I'd much appreciate it, and when you're done with that the water troughs need filling."

They found some pitchforks in the storeroom and started digging into the large bale. It was harder than it looked. The hay was packed together so tightly Harry barely managed to get the tines of his fork stuck in.

"Here now, what are they teaching you up in that castle?" Melrick huffed. "You'll break your backs that way. You've got wands 'aint you?"

Sheepishly, the boys nodded. "We haven't learned any spells yet, though," Ron added.

"Well get 'em out, you're going to learn one now."

"Really? Can you do that?" Harry asked excitedly. He threw his pitchfork down and grabbed his wand out of his pocket.

"Well of course, I can. Wouldn't have offered if I couldn't, now would I?" the stableman scoffed lightly. "We use a hay packing spell to form up the bales, so they're nice and tight. You'll never get it all apart without the counter spell. Hold up your wand there, Weasley. The move goes like this." He pointed a thin, reedy looking wand at the clump of hay. "Retexo."

The sun dried grasses shifted and loosened, and spilled around Harry's feet.

"Now, you lads give it a go, then."

Harry stammered. "Could I see the wand movement again, please?"

Melrick obliged, tracing out the correct gesture twice more.

"You're sure we can just go ahead and try it?" Harry checked. "Just like that?"

"Yes, lad, and you better get on with it if you're going to get any work done. Hurry up now, we've not got all evening."

He gripped his wand tightly and pointed it at the already loosened hay. "Retexo."

A warm golden glow flooded through his veins as more of the bale unraveled. He grinned, elated, and waved his wand again. "Retexo, Retexo, Retexo!"

"Oy, let me give it a go, will ya, Harry?" Ron protested.

Harry stepped back. Ron tried the spell a few times before getting any result, but Harry urged him on all the same. He hopped from foot to foot and cheered as the hay spilled all over the ground.

Melrick smiled fondly and shook his head. "Alright, that's enough lads. Mind you get that all cleaned up before you're done, you hear?"

They made a mess practicing the spell before finally getting on with their chores, and ended up making it to dinner only ten minutes before the hall stopped serving, but Harry was too elated to care. Finally, he felt like an actual wizard. So it hadn't been the most glamorous or impressive spell he could've thought of, but it had been real, and that was more than he'd ever thought possible, once. He laughed and joked and cheered the rest of the evening away, basking in the childish delight that was a boy starting to find place in a world far more magnificent than even his most fantastical dreams could have imagined. He had friends, and magic, and despite whatever other surprises or unanswered questions the day had brought, he was finally completely happy, for once in his life. He was never going back to the Dursleys, not if he could help it.


Thanks for reading! Normally, I don't like writing notes at the end of the chapters (you can pm me as much as you want if you want to discuss anything!) but I just thought I'd post here that any mistakes are completely mine and mine alone, but if there is any kind soul out there who would like to beta a bit for me before I post chapters... please let me know. I could use one. :)