Chapter 11: Stepping Up
"Yes! Ha-ha, did you see that?"
Yes, I saw. Well done, I'm very proud. No, really, you're a child genius.
Harry brushed off Titus' sarcasm, punching the air with glee. Grinning widely, he stretched his empty hand out, and focused. The galleon that he had just thrown across the Chamber came soaring back to him. With another twitch of his magic, the gold coin began to hover above his outstretched palm, and another started it orbiting around his body.
"You have now officially mastered levitation. It's not like most of your classmates managed that five years ago, don't worry."
"Yeah, with a wand," Harry retorted. "And I can tell when you're lying, remember? Admit it, I'm amazing."
"Yes, yes, alright. Although I don't like to piss on your parade, but that is just a coin. It's not going to be that much use, even if you throw it really quickly."
"It's a start though. I think I know the trick now. Wait, wait…" Harry lowered the coin to his hand, and focused all his will and power on the coin.
It shattered.
"That…that wasn't supposed to happen," Harry said over Titus' roars of laughter, staring at the fragments of gold left in his hand.
"What were you trying to do?" Titus enquired once he had recovered from his amusement.
"I was trying to transfigure it. Seemed like a reasonable idea, given how easily it comes to me… And it doesn't seem that far removed from making something grow, right?" Harry trailed off, thinking. He really wasn't sure about Transfiguration theory, and at times like this he wished he was. Was that how it worked?
"I'm not sure that's right. When you encourage those plants to grow, you're not making them do something they wouldn't already be doing. You're just, I dunno, giving them a push in the right direction. That's a bit different to, say, trying to change gold into a bird. Although, fair's fair, it is gold – you probably haven't learnt Golpallot's Five Laws yet, have you? Doesn't matter, just remember gold isn't a good base for transfiguration. Try a bit of stone."
Bending down, Harry picked up a lump of rock about the size of his fist, and balanced it in his hand. Once more, he focused his will, and pushed. The stone pulsed in his awareness, ever so slightly, and began to change colour. By the time it had become a rich green, Harry was sweating, and his hand was beginning to tremble. He lost his focus with a gasp, dropping the stone. It snapped back to its original colour, and he scowled at it.
"What were you trying to do?"
"I wanted to make a glass. Nothing too fancy."
"Hmm. Possibly a little elaborate, but you made a start. It's something to build on, at least. In all seriousness, congratulations."
"Thanks," Harry said, managing a tired grin. He ran his hand through his hair, grimacing as he realised how much he had been sweating. "Time for a shower, I think."
"Then back to the grindstone. Don't forget you've got to work out a plan for this week's Duelling meeting."
"Don't worry, I hadn't…"
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Harry strode out onto the stage and clapped his hands for silence. There were noticeably fewer than the last meeting, probably half the number, which Harry was rather pleased about. It would certainly make things easier – he might be able to avoid assigning a group to McClaggen now. He grinned down at them all, still buzzing from his success of the previous evening.
"Good afternoon! Good to see so many of you back again. We're going to divide you all up today, we got quite a few volunteers last week. If you want to split into groups of ten or so, that'd be great…" He waited patiently while everyone underwent the complex political manoeuvrings of who to team up with, who to graciously avoid, and who to snub shamelessly. It took quite a while. "Everyone ready? Ok, Hermione'll assign you all a group tutor, and we're just going to drill the spells we learnt last week for a bit. We'll see how everyone's doing in half an hour or so, and I'll be wandering around. I'll try and speak to everyone, don't worry."
As instructed, the various 'tutors' split their groups into pairs, alternating between the Disarming and Stunning spells. Harry paced around, passing comment and giving tips as required, and resisting the urge to clip some of the supervisors round the ear. The best that could be said for Cormac was that he was enthusiastic, shouting heartily at his group to "Give it some welly!", while utterly failing to give them anything in the way of useful advice. That was arguably better than Draco, who was treating his group with a typical mix of apathy and contempt. He rolled his eyes as Harry approached, and turned away from the other students with a sneer.
"Why'd you saddle me with this lot? They're halfwits, barely know which end of a wand to hold. It's pathetic!"
"Well, I'm sure you'll whip them into shape swiftly enough," Harry told him. "Besides, they're the only ones with the patience to put up with you."
"What do they need patience for? I'm just being honest with them!" Draco protested, looked hurt. Harry nodded without conviction.
"Whatever you say. Jennings, that was a beautiful disarm. Keep it up."
The younger student glowed with pride as he moved back into en guarde, and Draco sighed. "Harry, you really have no idea how to do this, do you? I'm sure my father would be happy to give you some tips…"
"Yes, I'm sure he would, but I'll be alright, I suspect. Don't be too hard on them, ok?"
Draco snorted and turned away, berating someone for some admittedly poor wand work, and Harry moved on. By the time he had got round the room, spending an inordinate amount of time getting Hermione to concentrate on tips and tricks rather than an extended lecture, half an hour had passed. He jumped back onto the stage and called for silence, grinning out at them all.
"Ok guys, some good stuff there, well done. Now, the spell I'm going to teach you now is the final spell that any reasonable wizard or witch absolutely needs to learn. Master this and the other two, and you've got a good defensive grounding – although I'm by no means suggesting you should stop there! This is the Shield Charm. Ginny, if you would?"
The younger girl bounded onto the stage with a grin, and Harry smiled at her. She had been itching to get involved more seriously in the club, although she lacked the skill to really teach anyone yet. Ron had been happy to forgo his position as training dummy, and his sister had leapt at the opportunity. She turned to face him, and bowed in a overly solemn fashion. He shook his head, chuckling, and she flicked her wand in a motion he didn't recognise, taking advantage of his distraction. He quickly jerked his own wand up, calling out the incantation loud and clearly, and her spell ricocheted off his hastily constructed shield, impacting against the magical ceiling. He raised his eyebrows in surprise; the spell had been rather more powerful than he had expected, and he nodded appreciatively at her before turning to face the crowd.
"As you can see, the Shield Charm will protect you against most – not all, but most – of the spells likely to be used against you. The obvious exceptions are the Unforgivables, but there are others. If you're in a situation that's degenerated to that point though, my advice would be to simply leg it."
There was a ripple of laughter, and Harry grinned confidently. He carried on, with a wave of his arm at Ginny. "Some of you may have noticed that Ginny tried to incorporate a more advanced technique, in trying to distract me before she attacked. In her case, it was being a cheeky cow," – he ignored Ginny's mock pout – "but there are any number of ways you can try it. Concentrate on getting a firmer grip on the spells first though! Now, the Shield Charm is a bit unusual, because the better you get with it the more you can do with it. As you saw then, I just conjured a small disc in front of my body, but it's perfectly possible to develop it to the point where you can cast it over an entire building, and affect people, not just spells. It's all a matter of intent, and there aren't that many other spells that can be altered so significantly." He broke off, noticing a few startled looks, and spread his hands. "I'm not expecting you to take it that far, don't worry! Just letting you know what can be done with it. Your turn now! Remember, it's Protego."
There was an instant haze of spell fire over the hall, as spells flew all over the room. Harry winced slightly; he hadn't taken into account the amount of ricochet that would be going on. There were a couple of people being stunned by people on the other side of the room who hadn't even been facing their eventual victims – a nifty trick if done deliberately, but quite embarrassing under the circumstances. He let off a bang from his wand, and silence quickly fell. He noted with displeasure that some people had, perhaps inevitably, used spells other than the Stunning spell to attack their partners. Fortunately, there was nothing too serious.
"While I appreciate people's vigour, if anyone uses any spells I haven't asked you to I am going to have words. Understand?"
There were a few chastened expressions around the hall, although Harry was unsurprised to see that the twins were smirking. He held the silence for a long moment, scanning his audience to make sure they understood. "Right. Well, that didn't go quite as smoothly as planned…let's try this; if the trainers can divide the groups in two, one lot practicing the Shield charm and the others attacking. Then we'll have this side of the hall for Shields, the other side for offense. That should minimise things…"
With these changes, everything started to go much more smoothly. True, there were several people who were less than perfect, and Harry made note of them to give them extra practice on the basics. Somewhat dispiritingly, there were a couple of sixth years on the list. He genuinely didn't know how someone could pass their O.W.L.s without at least a basic sense of accuracy. The targets weren't moving, and they were significantly bigger than the teacups used in Transfiguration, for instance.
On a happier note, the students who had taken over training were doing a much better job now. John Carter, the Ravenclaw seventh year, had transformed his group into a squad with almost military like precision, while Daphne Greengrass' students were proving just as successful, albeit in a more florid style. Cormac McClaggen was proving to be a disaster, but Harry was hardly surprised. He had rather thought the older Gryffindor would need to be replaced, and soon.
As the session neared its end, Harry began to walk around again, congratulating those who had done particularly well, and offering encouragement to those who were doing badly. Hermione sidled over to him as he approached her group..
"Harry, I think a few people have got the wrong impression about this. I've heard some of them worrying about you asking them to go out and fight, like they're your own private commandos or something!" She broke off, thinking something over. "That's not what we're doing, right?"
Harry groaned, looking at her incredulously. "Of course not. Why would you even think that? That's insane…don't worry, I'll have a word with them. All of them."
"Thanks. And good session! It's going really well, Dumbledore will be really pleased."
Harry found himself smiling, rather pleased about that notion, as Hermione headed back to her group, fussing over every aspect of their wand-work. Shaking his head, he hurried back to the stage, and clapped his hands once more.
"Ok guys, that's good, really good. I'm afraid that's all we've got time for this week, but before you go, I'd like a quick word."
He paused, making sure he had their full attention before he continued.
"I'm pretty good at this. A lot of you know that, whether you've heard about it or whether you saw it last year. But I'm not an expert, I'm not an Auror. I'm not good enough to head out there and take the fight to Voldemort, at least not yet – and you sure as hell aren't going to do that! This isn't about building an army, I'm not trying to encourage anyone to go off to fight – but like I said, I'm good at this. The way I see it, the least I can do is pass on some of that knowledge to make sure that as many people as possible can at least try and defend themselves if they do get into trouble. Ok? That's all I'm trying to do."
"What about those who want to fight?" Harry almost didn't recognise the voice – Nott had been staying out of his way, and he'd barely noticed his presence at the session. The pale Slytherin's eyes were fixed dead on Harry, as if they could pierce right through him.
"Anybody who wants to fight is an idiot," Harry said quietly, but forcefully. "There's nothing fun about it, nothing glorious. But I can understand that some people will want to. To them, I would say wait." He looked away from Nott, still speaking quietly. The room was deathly silent. "Your parents, the staff, they'll tell you that you shouldn't be fighting because you're kids, and they're right. You shouldn't be dedicating your life to fighting – yes, we're at war, but there's so much more to do. Everyone in this room has the potential to be magnificent, and it would be a crying shame if all of that potential was turned solely to violence. Nobody ever has to fight, there's always a choice."
Harry looked round at his rapt audience, and he grinned at them. "Alright, clear off then. The quicker we can get out, the quicker we can get some food, and I'm starving!"
As the massed students departed, talking excitedly amongst themselves, Harry caught Nott's eye again. The Slytherin sneered and walked away.
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Dumbledore was sat at his desk, waving his wand over a silver bauble that didn't quite make sense to Harry's eyes. It twisted, as if trying to avoid being seen. He stood there, watching the bauble spin ever faster under the Headmaster's guidance, waiting for the older wizard to notice him. Eventually, he coughed. Dumbledore looked up – and Harry felt a little spike of envy when the Headmaster's distraction didn't affect the bauble at all – and beamed brightly at him.
"Ah, Harry, welcome! My apologies, I was somewhat engrossed, as you can see. If you will permit me a few seconds to finish…"
"Of course, sir." Harry sat, still watching intently as Dumbledore worked his magic. The bauble was slowly changing from silver to a more golden sheen, and even with the charm bracelet that he still wore, Harry could feel the power in it. After a couple of minutes had passed, Dumbledore let out a satisfied hum, and tapped the bauble with the tip of his wand. The bauble trilled, and slowly floated back over to the cupboard that held so many similar items.
"What was that, sir?" Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Most of the items in that cabinet are of my own design, but that particular one belongs to Hogwarts," Dumbledore explained. "It is connected to the wards, so that the Headmaster can always keep a close eye on their condition. You will be happy to know that they are in fine fettle."
"It's a definite comfort, I'll admit," Harry agreed. Dumbledore smiled and continued.
"It does have other uses, of course. Did you ever hear about my search for Rosier in your third year, the night he entered the castle?"
"Not really, sir, no. What happened?"
"Hm. A story for another time, perhaps. We do have more important things to discuss, after all!"
Harry shrugged, and settled back in the chair, his excitement mounting. It was finally going to happen!
"First of all, how are you faring with your control? Have you succeeded in blocking out all extraneous sensations?"
In answer, Harry unclasped the bracelet from his wrist, placing it on the desk. Immediately, the magic that filled the stones of Hogwarts pressed against his senses – but not in the relentless assault that had greeted him at the start of term. He could not help but be aware of it, but it was towards the back of his mind now. He sat back, folding his arms and grinned at Dumbledore. The Headmaster watched him for a moment, and then broke out in a smile.
"Congratulations, Harry! You seem to be doing rather well. Do you think you're ready to abandon the bracelet?"
Harry began to speak, but then hesitated. "I'm not sure. I certainly wouldn't want to sleep without it at the moment. Better safe than sorry."
"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a nod. "There is no shame in knowing your limits, Harry, remember that." He stood up, and gestured to Harry to follow him. Moving to stand in the middle of the room, he winked at Harry, and swept his wand in a wide arc. The furniture began to move, dancing clumsily away from the two wizards. Harry laughed to himself as Fawkes' perch jumped from its position with the phoenix still stood upon it – the fiery bird let out the angriest squawk Harry had heard from him, even when he had been attacking the basilisk. The phoenix fixed Dumbledore with a baleful glare, and flapped off to the rooms behind the main office. Dumbledore affected an apologetic expression, but Harry could see him chuckling to himself.
By the time Dumbledore had finished his spell, there were several stacks of precariously balanced furniture, books and parchment around the edges of the room. Dumbledore took a step backwards, and nodded in satisfaction before turning to look at Harry.
"Well then, let us begin. First of all, I need you to understand that I will not be teaching you sorcery – I cannot, for I am not a sorcerer. Indeed, from what I know of the subject, and I concede that I know little of any practical use, there is little that is unique to sorcery that can be taught. The old legends do not speak of spells or potions, Harry – sorcery is more a state of mind. You know, I presume, the legend that all wizards, pureblood and muggleborn, are descended from the sorcerers of old?"
Harry nodded, drinking in the older wizard's words in silence. Dumbledore smiled at him.
"Excellent. Well, it is my belief – and I must once again press upon you that I am no expert on the matter – that more powerful wizards or witches, such as myself, can approach this state of mind. Consider the awareness of magic that you possess, and that I too possess. You have always been a wizard of great power, Harry, from the moment you were born, but your awareness did not awaken merely with power, correct? It was only once your magic was truly free that you developed the ability to feel magic."
"More or less," Harry responded with a shrug. "I've always been aware of darker magic – I can feel it around places where it's been used a lot, like the Prewitt's memorial. And something felt wrong about the diary, in my second year."
"Really? How interesting," Dumbledore mused. "That would seem to suggest that there is something inherently different…forgive me, Harry, I ramble. It is a sign of age, I am told, although I prefer to think of it as a sign of a healthy and inquisitive mind. Where was I?"
"My ability to feel magic," Harry told him with a small smile.
"Ah, of course. Well, obviously we share some talent in that direction, otherwise I would not have been able to teach you what little I have, but my awareness is nothing as to yours. I can sense the power that individuals are imbued with, but the stones that surround us feel as lifeless as they do to our eyes. As I say: sorcery is a state of mind, not a matter of mere power. If you would, remind me of what you feel when you are not blocking your awareness."
Harry paused for a moment, grasping for the right words. "Well, it's like you said, sir. Everything just feels – well, alive. It's like this beating heart inside everything I see, and it all feels connected somehow – I don't just mean inside a flower or something, sir, I mean that there's some connection between a flower in the garden at Privet Drive and a lump of stone on top of the Astronomy Tower. And I can't explain how it's connected, because I don't know. I don't even really know how I know, if you see what I mean."
"I believe so, yes," Dumbledore said in soft tones. "I wish I could feel what you feel, I truly do. It sounds…joyful, somehow."
Harry nodded in silent agreement.
"Thank you, Harry, that was most useful. You should consider writing a paper on this, it could revolutionise magical theory. One final question for you, my boy: do you know how magic works?"
"Of course, sir," Harry said, faintly insulted. "You say an incantation, and move your wand in the right motion, and…" He tailed off, thinking of his late night sessions in the Chamber of Secrets. He didn't use a wand then, or any particular motion. "But you don't need them, or at least some people don't…"
"Quite right. I have some little talent in wandless magic myself, although the only other people I know of with the ability are Voldemort and Evan Rosier. Of course, there may be others."
"I, erm… I've had a little success with it myself, sir."
Dumbledore's eyebrows vanished into his hairline. "That is truly exceptional, Harry. You are far more talented than even I believed."
Harry flushed slightly. "Thank you, sir. I'm not great at it, only really got one spell working, and that was just the other night."
"Might I see?" Dumbledore enquired. Harry nodded, and reached into his pocket. Coming out with a galleon, he placed it flat in his hand, and stretched his arm out. With an effort of will, the golden coin leapt into the air, and Harry was unable to hide his surprise. It had been far easier than the last time he had tried it. Another twitch of his will and magic had the coin describing an arc around Dumbledore, and the old wizard laughed in delight. "Harry, that is truly marvellous! I have never seen someone with such fine control over their magic at such a young age! I shall have to look to my laurels, I fear."
"Oh, I doubt that very much, professor!" Harry told him. "When I tried another spell, I just shattered a coin."
"Well, early days yet. But you seemed surprised when it worked – you said you had managed it before."
"Yes," Harry admitted, "but it was far easier this time. I haven't practiced since, so it's not that."
"Tell me; were you wearing the bracelet the last time you tried?" Dumbledore asked him, a knowing look in his eye. Harry cast his mind back to his last session.
"I…yes, I think I was. I usually am, just in case."
"I think that may be your answer then. Does the coin have that sense of life that you described earlier?"
Harry looked at the coin, still hovering around the Headmaster, and felt for it. Dumbledore was right; there was that faint shimmer on the edge of his mind that he was becoming so used to, and he nodded.
"I suspected as much. Harry, I am now stepping aside from the sure path of fact, and embarking on a trek through the swamp of conjecture…" Dumbledore tailed off, clearly replaying his last few words in his head. "My apologies, Harry. My tongue rather ran away with me. Anyway, yes; as I say, from here onwards I will merely be guessing. But if I may be permitted to blow my own trumpet for a moment, my guesses are usually accurate. Would you mind levitating the coin again?"
Harry shrugged, and called the coin back to his hand. Exerting his will once more, he focused his concentration on the little shimmer of life inside the coin. When it began to hover, there was a pulse from within it. Harry described the sensation to Dumbledore, and the Headmaster smiled.
"Excellent. I do like it when my guesses prove correct!" He twirled his wand and a piece of parchment leapt to his outstretched hand; hurrying to the wall, Dumbledore pressed the parchment against it and began to scribble away at it.
"Sir?"
"If we assume that there is a basic similarity of process between magic whether the caster is a sorcerer or a wizard…Magic is life, after all – stimulation? Pushing…well, if we call it the 'core' for ease…A reaction between two cores? Hmm…" Dumbledore stepped back for a moment, reviewing his hasty notes and stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Forgive me, but theory has always excited me. Does the same thing happen if you use a wand?"
Harry was beginning to feel a little lost in Dumbledore's metaphorical swamp, but he shrugged and obliged the Headmaster by performing the spell again with a wand. "Yes, sir. It's even easier, of course."
"Naturally, you have had practice," Dumbledore murmured with a nod. "Most interesting…I believe that may be why certain magics come easier to you than anyone else I have ever met, Harry – Transfiguration, Conjuration, so forth. If I am right – and I flatter myself that I probably am – then when you work magic you are not just using your own magic, but you are tapping into the magic which seems to be an inherent part of…well, everything. We do not have your connection to them, so when we try to work magic we are at a natural disadvantage, no matter how powerful any individual may happen to be. Power can of course go some way to bridging the gap, but it would never be a satisfactory alternative, not completely."
He turned back to Harry, slipping his notes into the pouch at his belt. "If, when casting magic from now on, you focus on that little 'core', I believe you will find most magic much easier and intuitive, whether you use a wand or not."
"But not curses and things like that, right?" Harry guessed. There was a little sparkle in Dumbledore's eyes at his words.
"And why would you say that, hmm?"
"Because they come out of nowhere – there isn't anything for me to 'push' against, like there is in Transfiguration."
"Indeed, well done," Dumbledore said with a proud smile. "You have a fine mind, Harry. Don't let it go to waste, will you?"
"Funny, I was saying something similar to the Duelling Association last night," Harry told him with a grin.
"Yes, I heard. I believe it's going rather well, you have my congratulations. We'll make a leader out of you yet." He said it in jovial tones, to soften the blow, but Harry could tell he meant it. He looked away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.
"I'm not sure I really want to be a leader, sir."
"And that is precisely why you are suited for it, Harry," Dumbledore told him gently.
Harry looked met his eyes once more, a spark of defiance flaring inside him. "What about you, sir? Hagrid once told me you'd refused the chance to be Minister for Magic more than once – doesn't that mean you'd be perfect for it?"
There was something melancholy about the Headmaster's smile. "No, I am afraid not. I do not refuse the position because I do not want it, but because I always did want it. There is such a thing as too much power, Harry."
Harry frowned, uncertain. He didn't really understand what Dumbledore was getting at, but something told him that he was already pushing his luck – that to probe further would be rude.
"But enough of philosophy!" Dumbledore exclaimed, banishing Harry's thoughts. "I promised that I was going to teach you magic, and I have already bored you with theory for too long. Come, Harry: let us duel!"
Harry blinked in shock as Dumbledore whipped his wand at him with a broad smile.
"Oh shit."
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A/N: Sorry my update schedule slipped a little; real life got in the way. The next chapter may or may not have the duel in – I don't really have the patience for endless training scenes, so I might hold it back until it would be more of a realistic match. Or I might decide I want to write an epic Dumbledore smack down. You just never know!
