Unlikely Mentor
Chapter 25
Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.
Lunch had been good, with the usual desultory chatter among Harry and his friends about Quidditch, the news (which, for once, didn't have any snide sideswipes at him or Dumbledore; Harry guessed that the Prophet was still waiting for Fudge to recover from finding out the Headmaster was teaching Defence himself), and plans for upcoming Hogsmeade weekends. When Harry had asked Ginny what she wanted to do, though, she'd just given him an impish smile and said, "surprise me". She had then proceeded to unconcernedly talk about trying out for the Gryffindor reserve Quidditch team.
Divination, as far as Harry was concerned, was the usual time-wasting, tall-tale-producing adventure it had been since third year. He and Ron had tried using the Dream Oracle to little effect, since neither were keen on relating their dreams (Ron because he didn't usually remember them, and Harry had a keen sense of privacy about his, especially as Slughorn and Dumbledore were bound to silence, but Trelawney was not), and so as far as Harry was concerned he'd just make everything up in his dream diary. Perhaps, he chuckled to himself, Trelawney would realise how pointless it all was when she ended up reading page after page of "dreamt about the Grim", only to notice he was still very much alive.
Defence Against the Dark Arts, though, turned out to be an absolute blast.
For Harry at least, the air in the room almost felt electric as he seated himself at his desk; it was as though he were at a rock concert, eagerly awaiting the arrival of his favourite lead guitar. He'd only ever seen bits and pieces on the telly when they would do documentaries on The Beatles (Aunt Petunia had apparently liked them back in the sixties), but now, he knew how those girls had probably felt waiting for their idols to finally appear.
And just as the last student got settled at their desk, in strode Albus Dumbledore, a slight smile crossing his face at seeing Harry. As he stood at the front of the room, wand in one hand, Harry had to actively restrain himself from launching into applause. Even so, his heart sped up as he waited for the opening speech from Dumbledore.
"Welcome, everyone, to your fifth-year Defence Against the Dark Arts class," announced Dumbledore. "As you can see, I come only with myself and my wand. Your textbook will be acceptable for understanding what is likely to be examined by the Ministry in your OWL examination, but as this class requires wandwork, in the class we shall focus on the practical aspects of magic usage."
Hermione, beside Ron, looked dismayed (she rather loved essay writing, as Harry knew so well), but Ron looked hopeful, and Harry barely restrained openly grinning. This was going to be even better than Lupin's class, now that he was two years older!
"The aspect of magic I would like to focus on in your classes here is, in part, how well your mental discipline intersects with your physical control over magic. One can memorise a spell and the wand movements, and obtain a reasonably reproducible result. But there is a side effect of amplifying your mental discipline and concentration. Harry, would you come up here for a demonstration?"
Harry's heart leapt; he tried to keep from jittering slightly at being called up to the front by the Headmaster. He stood at the spot indicated for him, and noticed that Dumbledore was about ten feet downrange to his left.
To the class at large, Dumbledore said, "Now watch as Harry casts the Disarming spell at me." He turned to Harry, extended his wand and nodded.
Harry, remembering well the spell that had once knocked Lockhart flat on his feet, extended his wand, clearly calling out, "Expelliarmus!"
Dumbledore's wand merely flicked, and a brilliant shield flashed around him as the spell splashed against it. He smiled genially and said, "Excellent. Thank you, Harry." He turned once again and announced to all in the room, "You all have noticed that I can non-verbally cast spells, while Harry here, as competent as he has proven himself at spell-work owing to his extra studies over the previous year, nonetheless must verbally cast his spells to give them effect." He gestured Harry back to his seat.
As Harry sat back down, Hermione's hand shot into the air. Dumbledore pointed at her and nodded.
"But isn't it terribly difficult to be able to non-verbally cast spells? I thought it wasn't supposed to be covered until sixth or seventh year."
"It is commonly accepted by the Ministry that students are not expected to be able to master the method of non-verbal casting until NEWTs; however, I would like to point out that one of the first steps to non-verbal casting is the necessity of honing one's focus. Your use of magic will become more efficient and effective even if you continue to verbalise your spells, and that is what I hope to help you all do in this class; mastery of the non-verbal aspect before your NEWT year would be a welcome bonus, however."
Even if Hermione still seemed a bit skeptical that she could master what a century-plus-old Headmaster did as a matter of routine, Harry was sold!
Dumbledore then had the class members pair up, and he asked them to briefly close their eyes and breathe steadily for five seconds before casting the Disarming spell, or the Shield Charm (which he briefly explained was incanted by Protego), respectively. As Harry paired off with Ron, he realised he had an unfair advantage due to the similarity to his Occlumency practice, and tried to tamp down the grin that threatened to show on his face.
The first time he tried it, he swore he felt something like a small zing go down his arm as he barked, "Expelliarmus!" toward Ron. Ron, having barely gotten his shield up in time, blinked as he was shoved back a few inches.
"Blimey, Harry!"
Harry beckoned. "C'mon, Ron, your turn! Come get my wand, hmm?"
At that, Ron's own attempt nearly did push Harry back, but Harry's shield, glowing a brilliant white, stayed strong and he didn't budge. Dumbledore, pacing the room, gave Harry a slight nod of encouragement.
He was going to love this class!
/\/\/\/\
Dinner in the Great Hall was filled with people babbling at one another about Dumbledore's Defence classes. Harry, for his part, raved to Ginny, "It was great! He's actually getting us to do real defensive and offensive spells, and I can already feel his techniques improving my casting!"
Ginny grinned. "He had us casting colour-changing spells at each other in pairs and we had to cast and block with the Shield Charm, one after the other. Guess who was the only one to Protego herself all the way through this morning."
As they sat down at the Gryffindor table, Ginny on his left, Harry poked her gently in the shoulder. "Guessing it's the girl I'm with right now, yeah?"
Ginny wiggled her eyebrows as she gave him a smirk before she began putting food on her plate. Ron, following up behind him with Hermione, was equally enthusiastic. "C'mon, Hermione, he said it'd help you in all your casting, right?"
As she sat on Harry's right, Ron to the right of her, Hermione let out her breath in a loud huff. "I just wish there was more of the theory to go on. I mean, why hasn't there been any reference to books or journal articles or what-have-you about the use of mental focus in spellcasting?"
"Wish I knew, Hermione. Mum's brilliant at actually doing household magic and such, but don't ask her to explain why she's that good. I guess it's just something you either know or you don't, and not that many people can explain it like Dumbledore can." Ron picked up a bun and as he chewed on it, he said, "Guess he's pretty unusual."
It was true; even Remus Lupin hadn't really focussed on the mental aspect of casting, preferring instead to get the third years up to speed on dark creatures as well as the basics of jinxes, hexes, and so forth. Harry decided it must be that those who mastered non-verbal casting (and therefore had the requisite level of mental control) had simply repetitively tried casting without speaking until it finally 'clicked', and so couldn't really explain a systematic technique for the necessary optimal mental control.
In that respect, then, Dumbledore was truly one-of-a-kind, and he hoped the Headmaster knew what a tremendous gift he'd just given everybody at Hogwarts.
/\/\/\/\
That evening, though, kicked off the first real public argument of the term within Gryffindor Tower. In the common room, Hermione, hands on her hips, was scowling at the Weasley twins Fred and George, who each held a piece of paper they wanted to stick on the notice board.
"No!" she was saying. "You can't advertise for volunteer test subjects on that notice board!"
"But we're offering compensation!" cried Fred.
"It doesn't matter," said Hermione, with a rather mulish expression on her face. "The notice board is not for facilitating commercial enterprises, which I happen to know you're doing with that Wheezes thing you've been up to."
Ron, with Harry by the fireplace, sighed and looked miserable. As his brothers argued with Hermione, he said to Harry, "I know the rulebook says any notices on the board have to follow school policy, but they've been so dead-set on this project of theirs especially with Mum being so against it. And I'd rather not get between Hermione and the twins when they're both like this."
It was true. None in the argument seemed eager to back down until finally Hermione barked, "Do I need to show you chapter and verse from this Prefects' Handbook or will you take my word for it you can't put those notices up?!"
George pulled at Fred's arm. "Forget it," he said disgustedly. To Hermione, he hissed, "Fun-sucker."
Ron's face screwed up in what Harry thought was a very valiant attempt to try not to burst out laughing, and Harry, for his part, suddenly found the need to concentrate on tying his shoe lest Hermione notice his reaction.
A rather annoyed-sounding flump on the couch opposite the boys got their attention. Hermione, scowling, said to Ron, "Some help you were. Are you a Prefect or not?"
Ron threw up his hands. "I've lived with those two my whole life, okay, Hermione? When they get an idea in their heads only Mum seems to be able to ride herd on them. So yeah, go ahead and write to her and maybe she'll send them a Howler, which, since she's not here, they can ignore. 'Course, in that case you can save it all up 'till Christmas when they go visit her, and she can make them at least seem a bit hangdog for a few hours."
Hermione seemed torn; she was supposed to enforce the rules, and so was Ron, but family always made things rather complicated (as Harry well knew from his aunt and uncle's favouritism towards Dudley and his unwanted presence at Number Four Privet Drive).
Finally she seemed to give it up for the moment, and with rather forced brightness, she said, "So who's up for getting started on homework?"
Groans rose up from the other two, but neither made any serious attempt to avoid the duty they knew they had to undertake.
Author Notes: Thanks go to my friend Ayala for looking this over. :) Also, observant readers may notice I've paid a slight homage to Harry Potter and the Veil of Mystery with Dumbledore's introductory speech about mental focus in spellcasting.