Chapter 7
It was almost dinner time at Hogwarts when Harry Potter, ignoring the slight rumble of his stomach, entered his 'test-room' for the umpteenth time that week. There was no helping it. If Professor Dumbledore and Hermione hadn't forced him to either study, teach the DA, sleep and occasionally eat, then he would have certainly set up camp there in order to study his new kind of magic.
The young Gryffindor hurriedly closed the door behind his back, not even bothering with a locking charm. No one ever ventured in that deserted part of the castle, anyway, especially at dinner, when every student and teacher gathered in the Great Hall to eat and relax. The nearest place not in disuse was the History of Magic classroom, after all, and everyone had always better things to do than go visit dear old Binns.
Pocketing the Marauder's Map after one last quick check, the boy-who-lived put his bag against the wall and drew his wand, placing it on the ground where it wouldn't interfere in any way with the spell he was going to try. He then walked to the center of the room, pulled a long piece of chalk out of his uniform's pocket and broke it in half for a better use. A wide grin threatened to split his face in two as the excitement of what he was about to do sent thrilling shivers down his spine.
There was something to say about Dresden magic – like he had started to call it as opposed to its Hogwarts counterpart. Seeing as no one knew it or knew what it could do, no one ever acted to protect themselves against it. He chuckled elatedly as he straightened the lock of brown hair he had gotten from Umbridge's curly head. He only hoped Ron wasn't giving himself and his Omnioculars away by sniggering too loudly down in the Great Hall.
The past week had been one of the best of the year for Harry, despite its admittedly not very good start. While perfect to make your blood rush, a fight to the death against a huge demon and a dark wizard doesn't do much for your nerves, and learning about a prophecy stating that you either kill a crazy murderer or die by his hand isn't so good for your morale either. That said, being exempted from getting mind-raped by a man you hate, visiting such a fascinating country as the USA instead of attending the worst classes in your school, and enjoying your time practicing your new 'wicked power' – as Ron had put it – can definitely improve your week.
The 'test room' had been very helpful for the latter. The first few attempts at using the Room of Requirement had come a couple of feet short from becoming a disaster. Apparently, the members of the DA all saw the magical chamber as a place to… testsome of their own skills when applied to the opposite gender. Harry occasionally wondered if he wasn't actually wasting his time with Dresden magic, when he could devote himself to similar activities, instead.
After a couple of embarrassing encounters and near-misses, he had finally used the Marauder's Map to find his peaceful test-room, where he had immediately started to train and experiment. Little things at first, for this new energy had been difficult to control and direct, but he had upped the ante as soon as he had felt vaguely comfortable with it, and the results had already started to show. It was a pity he wouldn't get his hands on a summoning circle before a long while, according to the shipping company to which he had requested the materials, but for now he just had to make do with a stick of white chalk and a bottle of red ink.
The boy-who-lived crouched down to the stone floor, put his tools on the ground carefully and removed the few things that could get in the way. Satisfied with his work, he used the chalk to draw the most precise circle he could manage, while focusing on what he had set his mind to do. When he willed power into it, the white ring around him sprang to life with a quiet snap, blocking out any foreign magical energy wandering about.
Harry was once again mesmerized by the sensation of sudden tension pressing against him. It wasn't an unpleasant experience. Not at all. And he was starting to get used to it too, considering all the times he had toyed with a magic circle in the last week, not to mention all of Dresden's memories. It was one of the most basic forms of his new powers, but it was incredible nonetheless. It was like... it was like being isolated from the rest of the world and… being sheltered from it. He knew better, of course. Anyone entering the room would see and hear him without any problem, but that barrier, that invisible screen surrounding him made him feel safe for some reason.
It was oh so very exciting, and the discovery that even the Marauder's Map couldn't trace him when he was inside of it made him even more thrilled. That could end up being the best thing he had found out about his newfound powers yet and he couldn't wait to exploit it once back in confinement with the Dursleys. Would the Ministry even know if he used Hogwarts magic while behind his beloved chalk lines?
Harry really doubted it.
Professor Dumbledore too had admitted – not with a little dread – that there was no way that the Improper Use of Magic Office could recognize or even sense Dresden magic, so it was unlikely that it could get somehow past it either. If that turned out to be true, then Harry could practice Hogwarts magic too as long as he kept everything inside the circle, and that would mean, in short, a much less sucky summer in Privet Drive.
Still, Dresden magic was such an unknown energy, especially in this 'foreign' world, that he couldn't be completely sure until he tried, which he had every intention of doing as soon as he stepped into his relatives' house.
For the time being… for the time being Hogwarts would give him anything he needed.
Smoothing Umbridge's hair some more, Harry started his low chant, meaningless words rolling out of his mouth in a steady rhythm as he focused his will into the spell. A buzzing pressure immediately began building inside the circle, as he carefully picked up the bottle of red ink from the ground. Picturing the effects of the thaumaturgic spell as clearly as he could, he slowly poured the liquid over the brown lock of hair, soon staining his fingers and the stone floor at his feet with Gryffindor red spots. Faux Latin continued escaping his lips until the pressure became almost unbearable and he couldn't take it anymore.
At that point, Harry finally stepped over the white line of chalk, smearing it with his shoe and breaking the circle, effectively freeing the spell from its boundaries. The concentrated energy shot away at once, invisible force abandoning his body and the room, and leaving him slightly dizzy for a brief moment. Then a wolfish grin made its way through his face, and as he looked down at the soaked red lock of hair in his hands, he couldn't help but imagining the scene that was probably happening in the Great Hall right that instant.
Silently congratulating himself for a job well done, he hoped he had managed to colour not just Umbridge's hair but her whole body red, but he couldn't be entirely sure. It was funny. Thaumaturgy had always been what Dresden did best, but from what little he had practiced in the last week, he had realized he wasn't that great at it. He wasn't terrible either, but there was a not so subtle difference in results compared to those of the American wizard. At first he had thought it depended on his inexperience – knowing how to do magic through memories wasn't the same as actually doing it himself – but it wasn't just that. His talents were simply spread differently, if only slightly, than Dresden's.
For example, both he and the American teenager were practically hopeless in controlling and focusing the huge amount of magic they had been given, making Evocation all about power, and they both sucked at Trasmogrification, although Dresden faired a little better, if he had to be honest with himself.
The other major difference aside from Thaumaturgy, instead, had to be Illusion magic. Harry had discovered he was pretty good with veils, for example, while his otherworldly alter-ego just couldn't create a decent one to save his life. The young Gryffindor's attempts at raising one never turned out as good as what he had managed outside of Justin's lab, in Dresden's world – which seemed to support the theory that his magic and the American's sort of piled up when they were together – but he was pretty satisfied with them nonetheless since even Dumbledore had looked impressed when he had tried one in front of him. The veil hadn't quite concealed his presence from the old wizard's Magi Perceptio, but as far as his 'normal' senses went, the spell had hidden him completely.
Needless to say, he had immediately started to think about ways to exploit this as well and one thing was for sure – the Dursleys wouldn't know what hit them.
Literally.
Savouring in anticipation the hell he would put his so-called 'family' through, the boy-who-lived finally closed the empty ink-bottle and picked up the piece of chalk from the ground.
It was at that point that he saw Mrs. Norris.
Harry's breath caught in his throat at the sight of the cat standing on the entrance, after having somehow opened by a few inches the door he was sure he had closed. Only half of her scrawny body was actually inside the test-room, but from his position in the middle of the unused class, the boy-who-lived could clearly see her tail slowly swinging left and right in almost hypnotic movements. Her yellow eyes stared unblinkingly at him, their colour clashing eerily against the dusty-grey of her fur.
They stayed like that for an interminable minute, Harry absolutely frozen in place, seemingly like the rest of the world, while only Mrs. Norris' tail shifted lazily. The indistinct noises coming from outside were all but faded with the advancing of the dark hours and all was quiet.
At least until a hoarse voice echoed from one of the hallways nearby.
"Mrs. Norris? Where are you?"
Filch.
"Did you catch someone?"
Fuck.
Harry's eyes immediately darted down to the white marks of chalk on the stone floor, the large red blotch at his feet and the long hair still dripping red ink. The bag and wand resting near the wall were just two indistinct shapes out of the corner of his eye, as was the window on the other side of the room.
He looked up at the cat again. Widened green met pupil-slitted yellow, and for another moment, the young Gryffindor remained silent, before finally deciding to take his chances. He spoke in a very quiet voice.
"You're not going to rattle on me, are you, pretty kitty?"
The skeletal grey cat seemed to actually think about that. She tilted her head to the side, ears tensed up, while regarding the human being in front of her with amused interest.
Then she mewed. Loudly.
"You bitch!" the boy-who-lived cursed under his breath, glowering at the cat for a second before hurriedly brushing the chalk circle off the floor. He stomped on the white marks with more forcefulness than what was strictly necessary and grumbled something far from benevolent towards the drat cat.
Mrs. Norris mewed again in answer.
Not five seconds later, the young Gryffindor had dashed out of the old classroom, bag unbalanced on his shoulder and wand in hand, ears vaguely registering the now continuous calls of the animal and the excited rasping of Filch's voice, seemingly coming from just around the right corner. Harry ran to the left, of course, cursing his bad luck, his carelessness and every bloody cat in the world as he went. The caretaker's footsteps stopped for a moment, a gasp was heard and finally the chase resumed noisily once again. The boy-who-lived could easily picture the man's ugly face turning even uglier at the sight of the mess inside his test-room.
Filch's rasping soon started sounding horribly near, but it was hard to tell with the echo produced by the stone walls of the Hogwarts castle. Still, all that mattered was to not get caught. Nobody could reasonably accuse him of anything if he didn't get caught. The caretaker would just have to clean the red mess on his own, which was pretty funny considering that Harry himself would have done that if it hadn't been for the blasted cat. Now because of her, he probably had to give up his test-room as well.
"I can hear you!" Filch's wheezing voice echoed from somewhere behind him. "I can hear you… you sick… troublemaker!"
Harry scrambled away from the voice, tossing one last glare to Mrs. Norris sauntering in his wake, yellow eyes regarding him with evil amusement. The young Gryffindor didn't pay any more attention to her but for a wide swing of his bag, swooping down in her direction quickly. She dodged the blow easily but fell back at once, a threatening hiss leaving her open muzzle before she could go off to join her master.
The blazing torches littering Hogwarts' hallways made good light of Harry's path as he ran towards the common room and safety. The sound of his feet pounding the stone floor echoed loudly through the castle, blending with those of his pursuer and with the crackling of the fire.
Why the hell had he started running anyway, he asked himself, when he could have simply used a veil? Sure, he still needed a bit of focus and some time, but he could have managed a passable one in that situation. He just hadn't thought about it, he realized. It would probably take him a while to really think of Dresden magic as a possible solution to his everyday problems.
When he eventually became reasonably sure he had shaken the caretaker off, the boy-who-lived slowed down a little and tried to calm his breathing as much as he could, the chilling cold of Scotland piercing his lungs like a handful of sharp needles. His heartbeat had finally calmed down when Mrs. Norris rounded the corner and mewed at him again, startling him badly.
"I'm... here… sweety…" Filch's breathless voice was feeble now, but once again not very distant. "I'm going to… get them!"
Harry cursed, scowling at the scrawny yet relentless cat. "Aren't you like a hundred-years-old? Drop dead already!"
He glanced at the corridor ahead before deciding to give his veil a try, and he had already started focusing on it when multiple voices added to Filch and his cat's, this time from the other direction. They sounded feminine and very close, much closer than the Squib behind him, and they were apparently laughing and giggling in great amusement.
Harry bit his bottom lip in uncertainty and then cursed again, giving up on the spell and resuming his run. No time for veils. Whoever these other people were, he told himself, they couldn't be as bad as the sadistic, Umbridge-loving caretaker. He just hoped they weren't Slytherins, but he readied his wand for that eventuality, anyway. Fumbling awkwardly to balance his bag, he skidded another corner and faced the newcomers, Filch's footsteps and rasping following him as he went.
He found himself running at full speed towards Cho Chang, walking down the hallway with two of her girlfriends flanking her. The sixth-year Ravenclaw was laughing amusedly until she finally saw him and was startled a little. Her surprise turned into a bright smile as she greeted him.
"Hey, Harry!" she called, head slightly tilted to the side and arms wrapped tightly around the books she was holding.
The boy-who-lived found the pose extremely cute – and Cho Chang in general extremely pretty – but he tried not to dwell too much on that. The usual butterflies had already started fluttering their little wings inside his stomach, and by the feeling of it, they were also crashing against each other wildly, causing him all sorts of pleasant/unpleasant effects. He hadn't quite stopped his run, but he had slowed down to a jog, managing to settle the heavy bag firmly on his left shoulder. He felt a little unsteady on his feet as his eyes wandered on their own to Cho's lips, forcing his mind back to the kiss they had shared at Christmas.
Mind which was promptly brought back to the present by Filch's panting voice.
"Ah-ah!" Harry heard him cry in exultance from not far away. "I got you! I got you!"
Butterflies scattered and dispersed as the young Gryffindor sped up again, not wanting to wait around to find out what the caretaker thought he had got. When he reached the three Ravenclaws who had completely stopped at Filch's voice, he finally came to a halt.
"Hi Cho," he said, breathing heavily. "Have to run," he panted, "now."
He tried not to stare at her parted lips - so full, so red, so- and stepped to the left, right as she stepped to the right, effectively blocking his passage.
"Oh, sorry," she said as he moved sideways again, only for her to do the same. She giggled cutely at their accidental impromptu dance and the surviving butterflies in his stomach seemed to go crazy at the simple sound. He crushed them deliberately this time around, as he visualized what Filch and Umbridge would do to him if they caught him literally red-handed and blamed him for what had surely happened in the Great Hall.
Cho started a little, tensing, when he put his ink-stained hands on her shoulders and firmly moved her around. Her legs followed his lead almost passively, and she soon found herself where Harry had been a second before, their places switched. The dark-haired boy patted her shoulders awkwardly once and then got back to running, trying to move his unbalanced bag to his other side. He had just turned the next corner when he heard himself blurt out something.
"Hey, Cho…" he called, sticking his head back to the hallway he had just passed and finding her in the exact same spot where he had left her. "Would you… uhm… would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next week?"
The sixth-year Ravenclaw blinked twice before grinning brightly.
"Y-yes!" she shouted back. "I would love to!"
Harry was masking his panic with his panting, and he was doing a damn good job too, if he could say so himself. He showed Cho a brief smile, hoping it didn't look as nervous as it felt, and nodded at her.
"Perfect," he panted, hesitated and finally nodded again. "See you."
And then he resumed his very manly escape from both the wheezing Filch and the giggling girls behind him.
"Bloody hell," he chocked out, feeling his face heat up as if it was on fire. "This is all Mrs. Norris' fault."
But he couldn't help a silly smile from making its way to his bemused face.
Harry Potter exited the class of Defence Against the Dark Arts with a barely contained snarl. He could still hear Umbridge's high-pitched voice grating from inside the room about what a disappointment Gryffindors were education-wise and how internal influences were to be blamed for that.
He almost turned back at those words, feeling a sharp retort about her internal influences already on his lips, but instead, he just scratched his lightning-shaped scar irritably and stomped away, forcing his two best friends to a jog to catch up with him. The mark on his forehead hadn't disappeared completely in the end, contrary to what Professor Dumbledore had thought at first, but according to the old wizard the possibility couldn't be ruled out just yet. Harry didn't know whether to be happy or not, and frankly speaking, at the moment he couldn't care less. He was just glad he could take some of his annoyance out on it with his nails.
"That awful, awful woman!" Hermione said as soon as she had joined him. "She can't talk to students like that!"
Harry only grumbled his agreement with unintelligible noises.
"I'm… kind of surprised you didn't say anything back there," Ron commented a little warily. "Considering… well…"
There was no need to finish the sentence. The boy-who-lived knew what his friend was talking about.
"I'm proud of you," Hermione stepped in quickly, throwing a dangerous glare to the red-head. "You never responded to her provocations and you didn't lower yourself to her level. You showed that unfair… hag how much more mature you are!"
Ron put a hand on his best mate's shoulder.
"See, Harry? You're more mature than Umbridge," he said in a cheerful voice. "Aren't you happy?"
That drew a snort of both irritation and amusement from Harry's lips, before a frown came back to mar his features. "I so wanted to shut her up."
"We know," Hermione said quickly. "But you would have gotten yourself in trouble. And for what? For nothing, I tell you."
The boy-who-lived mumbled noncommittally and stayed silent. Part of him disagreed with the girl, but he didn't voice his thoughts. He knew why he hadn't risen to Umbridge's taunts and it had nothing to do with detention or other similar repercussions.
He hadn't done that because Dresden wanted to.
Well, not really Dresden, more like his… memories? Personality? He still didn't know how to call the thing he was dealing with at the moment. But whatever the name, the fact remained that all that the American boy had passed onto him had started to influence his actions.
And he hated that.
It was pretty stressing. Harry wanted to be the person he was before all that alternate-dimensional-mess had happened, but it wasn't that easy. Foreign memories, ideas or even reactions had been springing up in his life like unconditioned responses, affecting him on more than one level and making him feel… making him feel like he didn't know himself anymore.
That was why he had resisted with all his might the strong urge to give lip to the High Inquisitor, trying to distract his mind with either the memory of the perfectly successful prank he had pulled on her the last dinner or physical pain on himself in the shape of his semi-grazed lightning scar. Since he had come back from Dresden's world, he had found talking back to people extremely easy and almost automatic, and although that had led to all kinds of fun when Malfoy and the Slytherins had been involved, he still felt terribly uncomfortable whenever one of these episodes took place.
Having Ron and Hermione at his side during this transformation of sorts had been helpful and liberating, and Harry was glad he had told them about Dresden. He could tell that they were a bit unsettled by it as well, but they were also doing their best not to show it. Hermione constantly reminded him to 'try and keep it in perspective', which often helped him prevent 'out of character' reactions, while Ron had started calling him out on it whenever he 'pulled a Dresden'. Some times the boy-who-lived wondered if telling them about the prophecy too would be such a bad idea, after all…
So, also with the aid of his two best friends, Harry was fighting these unwanted changes that were being forced upon him. He was losing, though, if he had to be honest with himself, but the simple fact that he was trying appeased him somewhat.
That said, he would hold onto this sort of problems all his life if it meant not giving up the powers they had come with, which were hopefully going to be decisive against Voldemort. The complete package was definitely worth keeping, all things considered, if it was going to keep him alive, and he was glad to Dresden for that. He would have never asked Cho out on a date either if it hadn't been for the American wizard, a little voice in his head whispered to him, but he ignored it in favor of Ron's.
"I reckon she suspects you for yesterday's prank," the young Weasley was saying in the meantime, grin widening on his face. An amused chuckled escaped his lips as he visibly recalled the shower of red ink that had hit the unsuspecting Umbridge in the Great Hall. "Speaking about it, tonight is the Theater Special Edition. Fred and George are going to use our Omnioculars to put up a little show starring our beloved High Inquisitor. They want to know how we did that, by the way."
"They also said they have to speak with their partner and explain him the value of being present to one's own prank," Hermione said, looking suspiciously at Harry. "In order to both act innocently and gloat at the same time, they said."
Harry's expression remained unreadable as he continued to stare directly in front of him. He still hadn't told anyone about giving the twins his Triwizard winnings.
"I'll thank them for the advice the next time I prank someone in the Great Hall."
"Hmmm," Hermione murmured, sounding displeased, but he wasn't sure whether it was because of the lie or the possibility of him pulling another practical joke on Umbridge. She hadn't exactly been happy with that particular test on Dresden magic Harry and Ron had come up with for the previous evening, but she had accepted to hold a pair of Omnioculars to record the scene all the same. "Any news from… Padfoot yet?"
The boy-who-lived frowned.
"Oh, didn't I tell you? His letter came yesterday night."
"Really?" the bushy-haired girl asked interestedly. "And what did it say?"
"That his cake had come out good and not to worry about my silverware."
Ron snorted. "I love this secret thing you have come up with."
Harry grumbled. "It's useless now… Who would have thought we'd need a codeword for 'alternate dimension' when we first created it? His face must have been priceless when he read my babbling about melons in my letter."
The red-head grinned widely. "He probably took it as something naughty, knowing him."
"It does sound dirty…" the boy-who-lived agreed with a slight smile but it soon dropped off his face. With Umbridge controlling the floo and the mail, trying to communicate with people outside Hogwarts was an absolute nightmare. Sirius was convinced they had thought about a good way to go around it, but he hadn't taken Harry's abnormal life into account, unfortunately. He sighed. "I just wish I could talk to him."
Hermione looked at him sadly while Ron seemed thoughtful.
"Didn't he give you something? For when you needed him?" he asked. "What was that package, anyway? You never told me what it was."
The boy-who-lived felt like being struck by lightning.
"What package?" Hermione asked curiously.
"The one he gave me after Christmas! I had completely forgotten about that!" he said excitedly. "I wonder what it is…"
"And I'm wondering where are you taking us. Harry?" the bushy-haired girl asked and Ron too stopped walking for a moment and turned his head around in confusion.
"Hey, the common room is down there!" he realized, pointing at a hallway they had just passed.
The boy-who-lived stopped thinking about Sirius' gift and frowned at his friends.
"Hmmm? Oh. Yes," he said eventually. "I just wanted to work a bit on our little side project, and I thought you could give me a hand…"
"I'm in," the young Weasley said at once, quick on the uptake. He knew what the alternative was already, and dreaded it with some dismay.
"Harry," Hermione started in a reprimanding tone, glaring briefly at Ron, "we have some study to do, and you know it. There are the Transfiguration essay about Tarcinus Law and the Charms one about the Afflo spell. And Snape will take even more points from you if you don't finish the pepper-up potion in time."
"I know," the boy-who-lived admitted even as he grinned brightly to try and affect the girl with his enthusiasm. "But this will be fun! And… and instructive! You get to see how magic from another world really works. This will be the hardest thing I've done yet and you can compare it to Hogwarts magic, if there's a counterpart to it." He pressed on in seeing her hesitation. "Come on, 'Mione. It won't take much time…"
The bushy-haired girl bit her lower lip before rolling her eyes.
"Oh, fine," she relented and her two friends grinned at each other. "But then we will finish all our homework for Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. Is that clear?"
"Like water," Ron said at once.
"Crystal water," Harry followed swiftly.
Hermione just looked suspiciously at them.
They reached their destination five minutes later, checked on the Marauder's Map that no one was around, and then walked up and down the normal-looking wall in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor. It was a small success already that the door suddenly appeared from the stone but it was practically a miracle that it wasn't occupied by snogging couples, and Harry entered it with a pleased smile.
The boy-who-lived willed it just as he always did for the DA meetings, a large chamber entirely bare but for some bookcases and a few silk pillows on the ground. As he put down his bag, he mentally asked for a more comfortable seat and immediately a long couch, not unlike the ones littering the Gryffindor common room, popped into existence in front of him.
"Will it take long?" Ron asked plopping down on it.
"Why do you ask?" Harry glanced briefly in his direction and the young Weasley patted his flat stomach repeatedly.
"It's almost dinner time."
"No, it's not," Hermione shot back, taking out her wand and checking the time. "It's over an hour away."
The red-head shrugged. "I'm hungry, anyway."
He had barely finished the sentence when a large trey full of sandwiches appeared on a pillow right next to him.
"Nice!" he commented, taking the first one. "Thanks Harry!"
He started stuffing his mouth immediately.
"Thanks Dobby, you mean," the boy-who-lived corrected, looking around. The house-elf had done that all week. "It shouldn't take long, anyway," he continued after a moment, opening his bag and pulling out the few books in it. He tossed them rather carelessly to the side – earning himself a disapproving look from Hermione – before producing a large plastic bag that he put on his lap as he asked the room for a table.
"What's in there?" Ron asked through a mouth full of food.
"Chalk, knife, ink… the usual," he said with a shrug, rummaging in it. "Plus…" he added as his hand closed on two cool objects, "these."
He pulled out a pair of long cylindrical rocks, their pinkish hue glimmering slightly under the light of the candles.
"Aren't those…" Hermione started, perking up visibly, "quartzes?"
"Yeah," Harry said, putting them on the table. "I just got them this morning."
"What do we need them for?"
"They're going to contain the energy needed for the ward we're setting up," the boy-who-lived explained. "You either use a metal or a mineral if you want to store Dresden magic. Wood if you want to channel it. Well, technically you can use just about anything, but it's with those materials that you get the best and most lasting results. And we need every help we can get considering our ward isn't going to be anchored to a threshold. That would be how normal wards are usually done in Dresden's world."
Ron held up his hand to attract Harry's attention. He noisily swallowed whatever he had in his mouth and then spoke up. "Why don't we anchor it to the threshold, then?"
"Because there's none here."
The red-head looked at him perplexed, before pointing at the door.
"Harry, there's one right over there," he said as if speaking to a silly – or crazy – kid.
"That's not a threshold," the young Gryffindor replied shaking his head. "Not the kind I'm talking about, anyway. In Dresden magic, a threshold is... it's like a field of energy. It surrounds a home and keeps out unwanted magical forces, causing all supernatural beings to lose all or part of their powers when they cross it uninvited."
"Like with vampires?" Hermione asked, looking enraptured like every time he explained something about his otherworldly knowledge.
"Yes, exactly like that. And you can build really powerful magical constructs upon a threshold. It strengthens the magic you use, be it a spell or a ward." He drew his wand from his uniform pockets. "Now, that one," he said while pointing the stick at the door, "isn't Hogwarts' threshold. And Hogwarts isn't a home, anyway. I seriously doubt the castle's main entrance has any form of threshold whatsoever, either." He shrugged. "It's just a school."
Hermione looked a bit affronted by that but she didn't say anything.
"So, do you think the Burrow has one?" Ron asked curiously.
"Sure," Harry said. "So does Grimmauld Place. Those two should have some serious thresholds, I think."
"Why?"
"Well… how long has your family lived there?"
"Over four centuries, according to Dad," Ron said. "Although, if I think Uncle Darcy could have slept or washed where I do..."
He shuddered comically, leaving his friends to wonder about this Uncle Darcy.
"Right." Harry shook his head. "Four centuries... I can't even imagine what kind of threshold could have grown there."
"Does a threshold grow depending on how long you live in a house?" Hermione asked in interest.
"You can say that," Harry agreed. "Although we're not talking about a house here. We're talking about a home."
"Is there a difference?" Ron asked, the trey full of sandwiches all but forgotten.
"A huge one." Harry thought it over before eventually explaining. "Justin used to say this often: a house doesn't make a home. Well, it's true. A home has a history that a house lacks, the history of a family, often involving powerful emotions like joy, sadness, hope or despair. I've yet to step inside one since I've gotten this new magic, but I don't think it will be any different from what Dresden experiences in his own world. If I enter one uninvited, I'll leave part of my powers at the door, the threshold stripping them from me."
"Fascinating," Hermione whispered with wide eyes.
"Yeah," the boy-who-lived agreed before looking at Ron with a small smile. "The Weasley family has lived in the Burrow for centuries. It would probably make me as good as a muggle, Dresden magically speaking, with the threshold it must have."
"Not unlike any other pureblood house," Hermione pointed out helpfully. "Or better home."
"Probably." Harry took the quartzes and examined them intently. "Anyway, as I was saying, our ward will be weakened for lack of a threshold. That probably means I will have to charge it once a month, more or less."
The young Gryffindor put the two stones down on the table and pulled a piece of chalk out of his bag. After drawing a little mark on the pinkish surface of the first rock, he pointed his wand at it.
"Diffindo."
The fine light of the spell hit the mineral exactly where he had marked it, immediately severing it into two almost identical pieces. Satisfied with the results, the boy-who-lived proceeded to do the same with the other, before putting his wand down on the table. He held the four halves up for his friends to see, careful about not mixing them up, and smiled.
"We're going to put one piece of both stones down the two ends of the hallway outside – I was thinking above the portraits or inside the suits of armor – and we'll keep the remaining halves in the room with us. If the spell succeeds like I hope, the quartzes outside will make us know through their 'brothers' here if anyone walks in the corridor."
"Wicked," was Ron's appreciative comment.
"How does it work exactly?" Hermione asked instead, always in need of more details.
"These halves were one single stone until a moment ago, right?" Harry explained, showing for a second the two pieces in his left hand before holding up those in his right. "So were these two. This spell is based on the idea that, no matter if they've been separated, the pieces of the quartz are still magically connected to one another. Being minerals they will keep their link for a long time, unlike plastic or wood, as long as they're not significantly altered or taken too far away from each other. Once I work my magic on one half, the other one will... experience everything the other does. Sorta."
"Like the galleons for the DA?" Ron asked, turning to Hermione.
"It does sound similar to the Protean charm," the girl agreed, "but I'm guessing there is more to it, right? Some kind of automatic response or awareness. How would the quartzes alert us of anything otherwise?"
The boy-who-lived nodded.
"That's right. That's just one of the steps for the ward, reinforcing the link between the stones. Other than that I'll have to power them up with enough magic to make up for the lack of threshold and then shape the energy so as to act, react and even manifest like I want it to."
Hermione nodded, having apparently surmised that much, but she looked extremely impressed anyway.
"Wow… doing something like that with our magic would require… I don't even know… enchanting at the very least!" she said excitedly. " This is incredible, Harry!"
"Well," the boy-who-lived mumbled, half-embarrassed and half-pleased, "this is enchanting, in a manner of speaking, although it's a much quicker process. I'll have to engrave a symbol on the quartzes to make them store magic and another one to direct it. And only between them I'll have to perform the actual thaumaturgy," and he added after noticing Ron's confused look, "like what I did to prank Umbridge."
"Make something happen on a small scale and give it the energy to happen on a larger scale too," Hermione quoted and Harry flashed her a grin.
"Precisely."
Ron was grinning too at the proud expression on the girl's face.
"He's not going to award you points, Hermione," he quipped, turning to his best mate before she could say anything. "So what will our ward do?"
In the meantime, Harry had pulled a knife out of his plastic bag and had already started carving one of the quartz pieces.
"With no threshold to anchor it to, I really can't build much more than an alarm ward. A distraction at most," he explained, "which is a pity because I would love to fry Umbridge's hairy ass should she pay the DA a visit."
"I still don't understand why you're being so stubborn about warding the room," Hermione said with a shake of her head and the boy-who-lived actually took a moment off carving to shrug his shoulders.
"I'm not being stubborn," he said. "It's just another way to test Dresden magic."
"No, it's not just that," the bushy-haired girl disagreed at once. "You've been oddly adamant about this all week."
Harry didn't look at her, concentrated on the stone in his hands. He moved the knife down to the lowest part of the symbol and engraved the final horizontal line to intersect it.
"Better safe than sorry, that's all," he said simply. "Just want to be ready when it happens."
He saw his friends share a strange look out of the corner of his eye.
"When it happens?" Hermione repeated and he bit back the curse that had risen to his lips. "Harry. Harry, look at me. You're talking like you know for certain that someone is going to betray the DA!"
He mumbled noncommittally under his breath.
"Mate," Ron started in a careful voice, "is there something you're not telling us?"
The boy-who-lived sighed quietly.
"No," he said tiredly. "I just… you can never know for sure. Maybe it won't happen, maybe it will. It doesn't hurt to be prepared."
His gaze met Hermione's for a brief second and he realized she had understood. He looked away quickly.
"Oh," she all but whispered, her eyes widening slightly while Ron frowned in confusion. "Elaine."
Harry jerked his head in a nod, still not looking up.
"You can't know for sure," he mumbled again.
"Harry," she started with a distressed voice, "you have to keep it in perspective! Only because she-"
"I know," he cut her off in annoyance before letting out a calming breath. "Believe me, I know. It's stupid and it has nothing to do with me…"
"But it still hurts," she finished for him with a broken voice.
He frowned.
"I hate that it does."
And that said, he put the stone back on the table and busied himself with the other one. The sound of the knife working the quartz was all he heard in the next few minutes but for Hermione's occasional sniffle as she studied the symbol he had just carved. Harry had been sure she would have said something, but found himself very surprised when it was actually Ron to speak up.
"Harry… you know…" the red-head started hesitantly, shifting on his spot on the couch in clear discomfort. The boy-who-lived glanced at him and couldn't help but wonder about the redness of his ears. "I-I-I never quite apologized for last year. You know… for the Tournament," he continued, gesturing vaguely with his hand and blushing even more. "I'm sorry. I was an idiot to turn my back on you." He took a deep breath before finally looking at him straight in the eyes. "And I want you to know that… well, I'll never do it again."
Harry held his gaze for just a moment, enough to feel the pull of the Soulgaze start, before quickly looking away, blinking repeatedly.
"Don't you go all emotional on me," he said quietly.
Ron barked out a laugh loaded with relief.
"Sorry," he said simply, and the word had more than just one meaning.
Harry smiled a little too. "You're welcome."
When Hermione sniffled loudly again, the boy-who-lived decided that the situation had gotten tearful enough. He quickly finished the symbol on the second stone and blew some dust off its engravings.
"I'm done with this, too" he said eventually, putting the knife down.
"Right," Hermione said, before clearing her voice and holding up the quartz she had been inspecting. "How do we go about this?"
"Alright," Harry started. "The first step should be relatively easy. I have to charge the two halves I've carved with a lot of raw power. That's something I'm not short of. The next bit is a little more difficult, seeing as I have to reinforce the thaumaturgic link between the stones without causing the energy in them to fry my ass."
"Harry!" Hermione cried out apprehensively.
"But let's not worry about that just yet," the boy-who-lived said confidently. He took the quartz from Hermione's hands and examined it thoughtfully. "You may want to step back."
Ron complied at once, while the Gryffindor girl seemed hesitant. "Harry-"
"Don't worry, Hermione," the red-head interrupted her. "This is the easy step, remember?" She eventually moved away and he flashed his best friend a wide grin. "Go on, mate."
Harry nodded, closing his eyes to better concentrate and gather his will, fumbling with the quartz in his hand. He knew that, although not lacking raw power, he sucked in Evocation nonetheless because of his lack of control, but this job didn't require any, or at least, not much. It was just about channeling energy inside the stone, and it didn't really matter if it was an ounce or a ton at the time. All it mattered was knowing when to stop, and then doing it before anything bad could happen.
He felt his friend's eyes on him and tried not to smile. This would definitely be a colourful sight for them. He could easily picture their eyes widening in awe as the quartz started warming and subsequently glimmering in his left hand. He poured more power into it from his right, feeling the pleasant sensation of magic flowing down his arm and into the stone, leaving him elated and dizzy like the time he had taken a sip of god-knew-what-it-was from the bottle locked in the cabinet of the living ro-
"Hey!" He said scowling at himself. "That was Dresden!"
The Dursleys never had a liquor cabinet at home. They had that awful wooden cart with large copper wheels and that damn-
"Harry!"
Hermione's sudden warning made him open his eyes and he almost wished he hadn't. The quartz in his hands was wrapped up in such a bright red light that even Hermione, despite not knowing anything about his spell, had understood it wasn't normal. The stone flashed painfully once and he blinked his eyes repeatedly as he immediately blocked the transfer of energy he had foolishly lost track of.
"Harry! Stop it!"
The boy-who-lived tried to reign on the magic around his hands, drawing them in again, but the panic in his friend's voice and the quartz brimming over with magic had already started to affect him. As his concentration wavered dangerously, all he could do was look up in horror.
"Shield!" he shouted and had barely the time to see Ron draw his wand when the eerie red light pulsed outwards and engulfed him. He squeezed his eyes shut, blinded, right as a wave of heat and smoke smashed against him with choking strength. He felt an unexpected and yet familiar power swirl around him and heard a voice calling his name.
Then nothing.
Author's notes – Once again, thank you to the DLP community for improving the chapter.
Uncle Stojil
