I don't own Harry Potter. I would feel weird if I were to own a person. Even if he's fictional.
It was the end of the reign of Severus Snape, first of his name, and from his own volition, scorn of the students of Hogwarts.
After that night in the Great Hall, the world around him changed so suddenly, that he didn't have the time to piece exactly what lead to it. The hastily constructed excuse that he gave to explain his actions during the informal talk he had with the Headmaster that nigh, wasn't enough to convince the man.
Then of course, was the official hearing on the use of Legilimency on the students, first years no less, which Minerva made sure was filed.
Probably the only thing that saved him from losing his job right there and then was the fact that Lucios swept in, weaving a story how his good friend, a godfather to his son no less, came to him many a times with his concerns about his reaction to the students.
As a skilled Legilimens, Severus felt more just how lost and afraid children sometimes were. Not to say that he always used his skills, but the tension can be felt by anyone, not to say a person skilled in reading people. As such, sometimes it felt overbearing, having a class full of students, with their surface thoughts and emotions outright screaming at him.
A professional teacher cannot sit with each child and deal with their problems. Having a complicated subject to teach, he could not do anything more but to shut it out and distance himself. Which led him to be disdainful towards the students he taught.
Because, while on the outside it was completely quiet, Severus still perceived them as unruly. Even if only because of their unruly minds.
Young minds tend to be open like that.
Of course it didn't stop there. After a while, living under that strain day in and day out, shouldering it alone, he became bitter to any other person he met. Be it his students from higher years, his colleagues, or even sometimes his friends, as Lucius pointed out that he had struggled with the man's stingy remarks throughout the time they knew each other.
So, it should have been expected that one day, Severus would be unable to turn the other way any longer. At one point, he would finally try to take a long good look at the problem that he struggled with since he attained his position at Hogwarts.
It was a good story. A perfect excuse for everything that has been happening. The officials that sat at the table turned to one another, and finally knew why there were so many complaints regarding the Potions Master. And, at the same time, why Dumbledore protected the man so vehemently.
They decided that Severus Snape could keep his position, as a Potions Master with his accomplishments in the field was hard to come by. Of course, on the condition that he worked on his problem.
The officials didn't outright sign him for treatment only because it became clear that the man was reluctant to share his thoughts, and someone closer to him, someone he picked, would be better to deal with them than any practitioner that was dropped on his head.
The officials left with a word that they would monitor the situation, and that off hand inspections might happen from time to time. Seeing that it still was the best situation for anyone, especially Severus Snape, no one raised any objections.
The Potions Master himself returned to his office, and sat in front of the fireplace for a long time.
Throughout the proceedings he tried to look tired, just like Lucius was describing him as, but his face wouldn't change into anything but that emotionless mask that he wore as long as he remembered.
It was because, while the officials believed what Lucius thought to be a lie, that same story struck a chord with Severus. Suddenly he felt empty. As if everything inside him has been taken out, laid on the table, and examined with the utmost scrutiny.
He sat in front of his fireplace throughout the night, and asked himself repeatedly. Was that really what was happening to him? Was he doing that?
And just like any other man not able to face his own problems, when the sun came up, he denied that any part of it ever happened.
The invitation to the Gryffindor's team try-outs was a surprise, but Harry went anyway. Even after only a short time on the pitch, he knew that he was meant to be there. What with such an unexpected friend waiting for him there.
It was like coming back to your perfect apartment, a place which you set up to the smallest detail, only to find it in ruins because your younger brother came back from college and needed a place to crash.
Standing there, watching all the things that previously stood in perfect order scattered across the floor, you may not immediately recognise your own home. Because of the shock, you might not even recognise your own brother.
And in that state, you could even get a glimpse of something else. A feeling, if not an outright memory.
A vision of your younger self, back then, when you didn't even think about a job or living at your own place. When having fun with friends was all that mattered. When games were all you talked about. And in your minds eye, you see your own room from so very long ago, in the same state that your apartment is in now
For a moment, after all those years of being a grown up, you know exactly how it is to be young. And it makes you smile.
Harry wore that kind of a smile throughout most of the Quidditch tryouts.
Before the try-outs themselves, there was a quick introduction to the Quidditch. After a short speech from the current team captain, Oliver Wood, the three types of balls used in the game were presented.
Harry couldn't care less for the other two balls when the Golden Snitch was unleashed. Because in that moment, he knew for sure what position he was going to be playing.
It was for the simple reason that he knew how to be like that. How it felt when the world zoomed by a thousand miles per hour, but you needed to see all of it no matter what. How some things just made you stop, even if to others it would look completely random. How you wanted to go so many ways, but could only follow one road.
It reminded him of his early years. When he was lost in the world without a hope of ever finding an answer. In times before Magie. Before she showed him the way. A method in the insanity.
He listened to the introduction of the Snitch, but all he could really think about was how well he could relate to the lost boy searching so frantically for anything he could get a grasp on.
The rest of the candidates for the seaker position didn't stand a chance. While they hovered over the field, scanning the pitch, inch by inch, all he had to do to find the elusive ball was to set his mind free. Immerse in the chaos of all the curious facts scattered across the field, ride the wave of all the improbable connections... until it carried him just one step behind the Snitch itself.
Harry avoided the Great Hall whenever he could.
The crowds, constant movement, all the chatter always filling the cavernous room during the meals. It wasn't his kind of a deal. He could stand in the corner, observe it, study it... But to be in the middle of it? Be a part of the crowd? Play any part of the "regular boy doing everyday activity" role?
It should have been obvious why he ate his meal before the rest of the castle came down. While they were still busy with the steady routine of waking up, their morning "Hello" and "Hi". Especially the whole "This day will be bloody awful" thing.
"I can never stop marvelling how beautiful it is in the mornings," Hermione stopped his contemplation, sitting across from him.
Harry blinked, finally realizing that his gaze stopped in the middle of the sentence, so he could think about a thought that occurred to him. He wondered briefly how long has he been sitting there, but a quick survey of the Great Hall did not indicate that a flood of students was about to come at any moment.
It was probably just Hermione, getting to an early start to beat anyone else to the library. Harry wondered when she would notice that shortage of space in the library is not something she should worry about any time soon.
He finally looked at her, and noticed that her gaze was still cast upwards. He followed it, and finally saw what she was referring to.
It was a particularly beautiful sight. The sun cast amazing array of colours on the clouds swimming overhead. The reds, golds, whites and blues of the morning were strewn across the sky. Seeing that they were still indoors, one could almost imagine that they stumbled into a chapel, before the artist finished his work. The background was already there, but lacked all the angels and saints such a picture required.
"There is a storm coming, so we should enjoy the weather while it lasts," Harry commented, returning to his book.
"Why do you think there is a storm coming?" Hermione asked, her head snapping to him in surprise at the sudden change of the subject.
"A red sun is rising," Harry answered like it explained everything.
"How do you know its red, if you haven't seen it?" she asked further, slightly annoyed that her good mood was spoiled by the sudden talk about weather.
"I don't have to see something to know it's there," Harry said while looking at her again, with a sly smile playing on his lips. "All I need are the signs," he added, pointing to the picture hanging above them.
"Still, what has the sun to do with the storms?" she demanded, now fully irritated at a piece of knowledge she didn't know, and someone else treated as a given.
"Everything is a statement to something, since everything is connected in a way," he replied, speaking for the first time something he believed in for as long as he remembered.
"How does it work then?" Hermione asked, now outright needing to know it to be at peace again.
"There is a difference in barometric pressure between the point where the light enters the atmosphere and here, where we can see it. That, and dust or other small things carried on the wind, filtrate the light leaving only those orange and red shades," Harry stated, gazing up again to watch the colourful clouds.
"If it's in the morning, then storm is coming. If it's in the evening, it has already passed, and you should expect a change of weather tomorrow, most likely for the better," Harry summed up, and then looked back to Hermione, who had already sat down beside him. "In the meantime though, it gives you this little piece of heaven," he said with a smile.
"Do you know everything?" Hermione asked, perplexed, since it was the first time that someone her age knew even more than she did.
"I know enough to guess a more or less correct answer," Harry stated simply before getting back to his breakfast.
That statement made Hermione smile. She knew herself that a truly smart person will seldom outright say how smart they really are. People like that simply know too well how many things that they haven't learned exist, to say that those that they do know even matter. She knew it too well, since she was like that too.
She would have to trick him into showing just what he can do, to truly learn how smart he really is. She doubted that he would mind, since, from what she has seen, he liked an intellectual challenge as much as she did.
She gazed towards the ceiling again, and smiled more still. Harry haven't read the Hogwarts: A History yet, something she knew since they talked about their respective to read lists. He would truly have to guess this one, and she would certainly knew just how close he really was.
"Fine then," she said, once again gaining his attention. "I've been talking with a couple of first year Ravenclaws, and we got into an argument about what kind of enchantment was cast on the ceiling. Can you 'guess' what kind of enchantment is it?" Hermione asked.
Harry glanced up towards the ceiling and then he turned back towards Hermione with a simple answer on his lips:
"It's not an enchantment."
"What is it then?" Hermione asked with a frown, knowing for sure that it is one.
"A Disillusionment Charm," Harry stated simply.
"A what?" Hermione asked, confused, since she haven't heard or read about anything like that yet.
Harry flipped couple of pages of the book he was reading, making Hermione realise that it was much bigger and thicker than she assumed at first. After a while, Harry pushed it towards her, and her gaze fell on the part which he was pointing to with his finger. Then she took in the rest of the page, and started flipping the pages.
"What kind of book is this?" she asked, fascinated with such a great find.
"It has a long and complex name that takes half of the front page, so I'm just calling it Spell Dictionary," Harry replied, smiling at the wild glint in Hermione's eye, stating clearly that she had to get herself one of those.
It was just like Harry stated. A dictionary of spells, with their names and a short description. There wasn't much on the technical side, but even at first glance she noticed the annotations categorising spells in groups or traits.
She no longer wondered why Harry was reading it. It was a trivia book. Full of fun facts and possible material for further study. Knowing that someone else would read an encyclopedia like thing for fun made her grin.
Then it faltered, since she looked closely at the definition of the spell Harry mentioned, and she just had to ask:
"Why do you think that it's a Disillusionment Charm? The description says that it can only hide small things, human size at most, and that that thing hast to have a form or boundary. If that would be the case, then the entire wall would be see-through," she asked.
"I guess that's why most people would call it an enchantment rather than a charm," Harry replied. "Casting it on a large scale, that partially breaks the original rules, transforms it into another class of a spell altogether. But at heart, it's all the same."
"But how can you be sure?" Hermione replied, still not convinced. "There are other spells that turn things invisible," she argued.
"I guess there are. I haven't gotten that far into this book. I'm still only at E, but so far, only Disillusionment Charm turns you invisible while leaving a hazy outline, and if you look close enough, you can still see the rafters as they would be with that spell cast on them."
While Harry was speaking, Hermione looked up and concentrated her gaze on one part of the sky that was visible there, and sure enough, she could see a hazy outline of a construction that should be there. It looked like if the sky was projected onto the ceiling, while the image in the projector was out of focus. Still, before she could reply, another person joined the conversation.
"Fifteen point to Gryffindor, for your splendid observation Mister Potter," said Minerva, listening closely from the moment she picked up Hermione's dare, or, more importantly, the fact that her charge might be making trouble.
"Thank you Professor, but one just needs to look closely to notice it," Harry replied, still trying to play it down, which meant nothing to the two women he was talking with.
"I guess so Mister Potter, but students don't do those observations until they learn how to cast the actual spell," Minerva replied, and after a pause, "in their sixth year," she added, just to make it so much clearer.
Hermione was speechless, but looking back to Harry, she hardly saw a reaction. She did not know if he still thought that it was there for anyone to notice, or simply wasn't that impressed being compared to other people, even much older than he was. Either way, the praise fell on def ears.
"If you want to go into the intricacies of the exact spell work, I believe I still have a book that describes the details of changing a spell into an enchantment that wouldn't be too hard for you to understand," Minerva stated.
That was the thing that worked like magic. Harry, with Hermione right at his side, perked up at the first word concerning more knowledge coming their way. McGonagal turned, and only then allowed herself a slight smile, as she lead them to their office.
Seeing that it was a third year material, she would not give the book she was mentioning to any other first year. On the other hand, seeing those two casually discussing magic over the Greater Almanach of Spells and Rites: Rules of Spellweaving, Spellcrafting and Ritual Preparation, A single book that made for the whole reading material of Spell Creation class while it was still taught, made her sure that they would be able to jump right into anything she would give them and more.
Looking back at her two pupils with her stern expression back on, she took in their anticipation for a new book. Well, she might as well give them something light to read in their spare time.
Every person that had ever attended Hogwarts went through the same phase during their first year. No matter if they came from a pureblood or a muggle family, knew about magic for a month or their entire lives.
On one hand, there was a promise of owning a wand and learning all those magnificent spells, and on the other... well, there was reality.
Like with any tool, no matter how splendid it might be, there is always that stage where you know completely nothing about it, or worse, you have some preconception about what might be expected. It was no surprise then, that in the case of magic, teachers took it so much more seriously to drill into the mind of every single student just how important it is to follow the rules.
So, every studend that ever attended Hogwarts, stepping from the train, ready to do all those magnificient feats of magic, had a really hard time dealing with the first month of their stay in the castle.
Classes held in that time dealt with all the crucial rules of the art, shaping necessary habbits that would be there during all the future years of spellcasting. Things like how not to vanish your own clothes with a careless swish of your wand, which happened surprisingly often in the past, giving reason to tales of rituals during which witches danced in the nude.
So, instead of grand wizardry and powerful spells, all that the first years got at the start of their education was repeating endless lines of rules, or practising patterns with sticks over and over again.
Then the day finally came. The day during which they would actually cast their first spell. By that time though, the first years were so frustrated with all the rules, practice, pointers they got and all the mistakes that were pointed to them still fresh on their mind, that hardly anyone ever managed any kind of magic.
This year was no exception. Even the thought of Halloween feast just moments away was hardly any kind of solace in the face of utter failure.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry said for what felt like a thousandth time, tracing with his wand all the well practised patterns. Still, his feather refused to move move.
'Do that again,' came a voice, and Harry slowly turned his head upwards. Sure enough, Magie was looking over his head, while casually standing on the back of his chair.
'You really don't do normal, do you?' Harry asked with a smile over her antics.
'Just do that again,' was her only reply, which meant a lot in itself. She wasn't serious often, and when it happened, it was something important.
Not asking any further, Harry did the patterns and said the words again, and quickly glanced at Magie. She was staring at her hands while flexing her fingers.
'What is it?' he asked at her thoughtful expression.
'They're tingling,' she answered, then looked at him, his wand, and lastly at the feather in from of him.
Smiling, she vanished, and when Harry turned, she was in front of him, blowing at the feather, making it hover couple of feet above his desk.
"Oh, well done you two!" cried Proffesor Flitwick. Only then Harry noticed that one other feather was in the air, and that it was Hermione's. The rest of the class was sulking, and many were muttering that it was impossible. He looked back at Magie, and she just winked and vanished, leaving him puzzled over the feather that floated back down.
He was brought back from his thoughts by the bell that ended the class, and as he leaving the classroom, Hermione nearly ran into him in her haste to get away. The tears running down her face as she passed him made him follow her.
When her mad dash through the castle ended, Harry was left standing in front of the doors to the bathroom in which Hermione took shelter, wondering why all the girls unanimously chose exactly that place to go to in times of distress.
Knowing that there really was no other choice, even when he didn't have any kind of idea what he could do to help, he pushed the doors open and entered the uncharted part of life.
He didn't have to search long, as the sobs coming out of the cubicle at the far side of the room were a clear indication of which stall was occupied. No matter how many things flew through his head, he was still caught off guard.
"Who is it?" came a scratchy voice, as Hermione heard his footsteps echoing throughout the room.
"Room service..." Harry cringed, replying faster than he could think, just as if he was speaking with Magie.
"Harry?! What are you doing here?" Hermione answered, clearly more concerned with his being there, rather than what he actually said. From the noises she was making, it was clear that she was trying to make herself presentable again.
"Looking for you," Harry replied simply.
"Go away! This is a girls bathroom," Hermione snapped at him.
"I can't do that," he replied, making himself comfortable by the wall.
He didn't know how long it would take, but also knew that he wouldn't get anywhere until that initial anger passed. It is only natural to snap at anyone after you've been hurt, no matter what their intentions might be. So, a little patience and understanding was due.
"Just go away! Why would anyone bother with someone like me..." she said in a breaking voice.
"And who someone like you would be?" he asked, wondering what he could do exactly.
It wasn't like he had much experience in comforting people. Spending most of the time on his own wasn't really a great practice for socializing. Magie didn't help in that either. She was good company, but her way of doing things, and his habits that came from that, could not be said to be the usual ones, even in the magical community.
His deliberation of the words he was speaking, and their effect on Hermione was stopped by the silence that was stretching out from the moment he asked his last question. He shook his head, reminding himself that in a conversation, one has to actually listen to the other person.
"Let me guess," he started, just to break the silence. "Someone said something mean about you, and you get back at them by locking yourself here," he stated, making a pause to let her reply. When that didn't happen, he continued, as if after pondering it for a while.
"I must say this plan of yours is a little too complicated for me, but if you thought it out, I am sure they'll regret it in the end," he stated, confidence in his friends intellectual powers rich in his tone.
"Harry, don't be daft!" She snapped at him, but there was a slight chuckle in her voice now.
"Since I'm terrible at guessing, could you tell me what is wrong?" he asked while leaning against the wall.
Then Hermione told him how at the end of the class she heard Ron Weasley telling someone how awful she was, and that it was no surprise that no one could stand her.
From the way she said it, it was clear that it wasn't the first time she heard those words. Even more so, he knew that Hermione, throughout her life, wasn't the most popular girl among her peers. That is why, from all the words of comfort that he could think off, he picked the simplest and the most profound ones.
"Well, I'm here."
The words hung in the air, and Harry waited, not saying anything more. After a long while, the doors to the stall opened, and Hermione peaked outside with her red, puffy eyes. Harry smiled at her, and after a while, even she was convinced that skipping the rest of the class that just started was the best course of action.
A quick trip to the nurse later, which served well enough as an alibi of their absence, they went straight to the common room, settling in a secluded spot of the tower, and simply sharing each other's company.
The day ended, feast came and went, but even the mass of students that came back, bearing tales of a troll running through the castle wasn't enough to move the two from their spot. Throughout all of this time, Harry had something more important do think about.
Even when anyone else could say that they did nothing of importance, Harry felt that it was a crucial moment for his friend.
He could clearly see that after what happened in the bathroom, Hermione was, slowly but surely, opening up to the idea that she actually found a real friend. Someone she could count on in times of need, talk to without fearing judgement, and call upon without a thought of rejection.
Unconsciously, Harry made a silent vow to not break the hope that he was entrusted with, just as his childhood friend never broke his trust. From that example, he knew well enough that, even if there are things that in one instant bring people together, being there for each other on a daily basis seems to work better in the long run.
AN. Lets just say that in this fic, this far they did only theory, and sine Charms are less dangerous than Transfiguration or Defence, its their first spell cast in class. That way I don't have to think where to put Magie's reaction.
