Harry Potter and the Hermetic Arts
Chapter 19: Baptism by Fire
Life at Hogwarts quickly fell into a rhythm. Like clockwork, Harry was up and out of bed at five every morning and on the grounds by six for his morning exercise regimen, featuring calisthenics and a mile run; on days where it rained, he did his calisthenics in an abandoned classroom and ran the mile through the empty morning hallways, and it was so early no staff or prefect told him "no running in the halls". A cold shower followed, then two hours of independent study to stay on par with students attending normal schools; Monday was for maths, Tuesday for science, Wednesday for English, Thursday for History and Friday for Geography, while he used those hours on the weekends to further experiment with his own magic.
Class would then follow, either for a half or the full day; between classes, he would meet with Hermione, who he noticed seemed to have no other friends besides himself, and revise for the rest of the day's lessons; on days where they only had lessons in the morning, they instead revised for the next day's. Lunch followed, and then either class, or Harry would revise by himself or use the resources in the school library to research why he remained unable to use the magic taught at Hogwarts, making him a regular at the library and a favorite of the stern librarian for his proper use of library etiquette.
Unfortunately, he could only stand a couple hours of fruitless research before he would be frustrated by the complete lack of information on his condition; then, it was dinner and experimenting with his own magic in an abandoned classroom in some order, followed by more research and development in his own magic. Except for Friday, when he had the double Astronomy practicum at night, he would do his evening exercise regimen by twenty-thirty, followed by another cold shower, before being in bed by twenty-one hundred; only on Fridays did that differ, when his night-time routine was delayed to twenty-one fifteen.
On the weekends, he spent mornings foraging and hunting in the Forbidden Forest with mixed success; he had yet to catch any game, but his throwing aim was getting better, and he had managed to forage various plants that he could use as food, some of which he had already begun to use to supplement his diet, though he was also starting in on the cured hams for meat. Following the lunch break, he would set up shop in an abandoned classroom and host the gaming club; with the limited supplies of board games, Harry had started handing out several packets of playing cards at the beginning of each club meeting and allowed those in the club to choose to play with the cards how they wished, though he was almost certain there were members who were already gambling with cards; he kept himself clean and away from anything involving money, instead serving as the dealer in games of blackjack and poker, even as the students present started playing other card games.
Neville and his lady friend often came to the club meetings, though the two rarely played, preferring instead to watch and laugh, obviously baked out of their minds. The ginger, on the other hand, came often as well, usually harassing Harry with questions or inane talk, and it was something he continued to do even outside of the club; Harry managed him like a bird, sending him from one distraction to the next whenever he could, but ultimately, the ginger always came back like a bad rash.
That was life at Hogwarts for the first two months.
~ooOoo~
When Hermione did not show up to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry was worried, so at the end of the lesson, he asked one of her Ravenclaw classmates, a boy he recognized from the gaming club who he had noticed was using odds-based stratagems when they played poker together.
"It was Weasley," the boy told him. "Hermione was trying to help him with the Levitation Charm, and he got mad because he's slow as dirt and couldn't do it."
"Who?" Harry asked.
"Ginger prat who keeps harassing you during gaming club?"
"Oh, that bakebrain," said Harry, and the Ravenclaw cocked his head to the side, clearly curious about what Harry had just said. "Please continue."
"So, when class ends, Weasley's talking to Longbottom, and he says, 'It's no wonder no one can stand her. She's a nightmare.'. Apparently, Granger overheard, and she ran off, crying."
"Well, let it never be said that he's not a right cunt," spat Harry, irritation rising up in his chest. His stalker had just hurt the one person he was closest to at Hogwarts, and he would have to do something about it.
For the first time in a while, Harry revised for Potions by himself; he thought Hermione might appreciate a little time alone to get collect her thoughts and strengthen her resolve. However, when she failed to show up for double Potions, Harry realized he had grossly overestimated her inner strength and resolved to find her once the lesson was over.
As he left to Potions classroom, Harry overheard one Ravenclaw girl tell another that Hermione was crying in a bathroom and wanted to be left alone. With no more directions than that, Harry started to sweep the castle, going from one bathroom to the next, knocking on each door and finding an absense of his friend as he worked his way up the floors, and for once, he cursed the castle for having so many bathrooms.
He had just come up the stairs from the second floor when he was stopped by the too-familiar ginger, who was in the company of Neville and his ever-present lady friend.
"Hey, Harry," called the redhead, grabbing the black-haired boy by the arm as he greeted him. "Where are you going? Let's go to the Halloween feast!"
"Get your hands off me," growled the raven-haired boy, feeling an icy chill start to form in the pit of his stomach.
"It's me, your best friend Ron," the boy said. "Come on, the Halloween feast is about to start. You don't want to miss it, do you?"
Harry shook himself free of the ginger's grasp; nearby, he could see Neville and his friend back away slightly, sensing the situation was coming to a head.
"I need to find Granger," Harry said coldly, trying to push past, but the redhead blocked his way. "She's apparently crying alone in a girls' bathroom."
Because of you, he added to himself in thought but did not say aloud. Right now, he didn't need more enemies. Barking dogs and all.
"What do you care about Granger?" asked the redhead, a laugh in his voice. "She's a nightmare, you know. That's why she's got no friends."
And that was that.
Without a word, the raven-haired boy jabbed the crook of his cane hard into the redhead's gut, doubling him over almost instantly. Even a step below him, the noirette was able to seize him by the necktie, pulling his head close so he could talk next to his ear.
He wasn't angry. Just annoyed.
"Me and you, we're not friends," the raven-haired boy said, emerald eyes shimmering icily like gemstones. "We've never been friends, and we're never going to be friends." He then viciously thrust the head of his cane into the redhead's solar plexus, forcing the breath from his body. "You are a terrible, thoughtless person, a groupie who thinks just because you're near somebody famous, they're automatically going to like you and be your friend because you think you're somehow special. Well, news flash, motherfucker: you're not special, unless you mean the type of education you very clearly need.
"Miss Granger is my friend, and you, you hurt my friend. I protect my own.
"You and I? We're through. And now, you're going to need hospital."
With that, raven-haired boy stepped to the side, yanking hard on the ginger's tie while hooking his leg with his cane, sending him tumbling down the stairs, striking every step on the way down until he came to a rest on the landing, a crumpled pile.
Deliberately, The-Boy-Who-Lived walked back down the stairs to crouch over the prone redhead, speaking softly into his ear. "If my name comes out of your mouth, I will make you disappear. Why do you think Malfoy won't fuck with me anymore? Here's a hint: it's not my charming personality, because I ain't got one."
Walking back up the steps, he came to a stop before Neville and his lady friend. "Me and you, Longbottom, we're cool," he said. "Your lady friend too." He jerked his thumb towards the ginger. "That piece of shit needs hospital, so if I could trouble you..."
"I'll get him to Madam Pomfrey, and I'll keep you out of it," said Neville, a wide smile on his lips. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that."
"Me too," agreed his friend, before adding, "I'm Fay Dunbar. Neville told me you forgot his name, so I figure you've forgotten mine too, which is why you keep calling me his 'lady friend'."
"Very observant, Dunbar," said the raven-haired boy with a nod. "I'll remember that."
"Well, good luck finding Granger," said Fay, as she and Neville descended the stairs. "She's lucky to have a friend like you."
"No, I'm a terrible person," Harry called back.
"A terrible person who still protects his friends!" the Gryffindor girl called back. "That's the best kind of friend to have."
~ooOoo~
Harry briskly knocked on the third floor bathroom door. The immense scale of Hogwarts castle had cost him a lot of time in his floor-to-floor sweep, and now, it was practically time for the Halloween feast to begin, and he was still knocking on doors.
"Go away!"
Harry recognized the voice as Hermione's even though it was hoarse from crying, and he knocked on the door again.
"I said, 'go away'!"
"It's me," Harry said, pushing the door open. "I'm coming in."
He found Hermione in a bathroom stall, sniffling and wiping her nose with loo roll.
"What do you want?" Hermione, her eyes red from crying.
"Came to check on you," said Harry. "Heard about what the ginger twat did."
"What do you care? It's like he said, I don't have any friends."
"Granger, I'm your friend, and I hope you're my friend," Harry said. When he got a small nod from the girl, he continued. "He's wrong, you know."
"Then why don't I have more friends?" wailed Hermione tearfully. "It's been two months and you're still the only person who talks to me when they don't have to! Everybody else acts like I'm a leper!"
"You know they're just jealous of you, right?" asked Harry.
Hermione blinked in confusion. "What?"
"You're the smartest person my own age who I've ever met," Harry said. "For most people, finding somebody better than them makes them feel inadequate, makes them feel scared."
Hermione sniffled, but looked thoughtful.
"You're intelligent, you're hard-working," Harry said. "Compared to the rest of them, you're a bright, shining star, and they're jealous and they're scared you'll make them look bad."
"But what about you? If I'm the smartest person you've met, why aren't you jealous and scared I'll make you look bad?" Hermione asked, her voice small and doubtful.
"That's my secret," said Harry with a smile. "I don't care what other people think about me. And honestly, neither should you."
"What?"
"Granger, unless you want to be dragged down to their level, you shouldn't care what people think about you," Harry said. "You're like a rocket, aimed straight at Jupiter, and everybody else just wants to bring you down because they don't want to believe it's possible to get there, and even more scared you'll be the first to do it."
Hermione smiled wryly at the analogy.
"Besides, you don't need their approval, or anybody else's, for that matter," Harry said. "Hermione Granger, you are absolutely wonderful just the way you are, and you shouldn't change for anybody. If they don't like you, don't want to be your friends, that's their loss; I'm proud to say I'm your friend, even if I'm your only friend."
"But if I don't change myself, wouldn't I just be seeking your approval?" Hermione countered, blood-shot eyes bright and a smile on her lips.
"You know what I meant, Granger," Harry said, shaking his head ruefully.
"But do I?" argued Hermione playfully, as she got up from the toilet she was sitting on and came out of the stall.
Before Harry could respond, there was the sound of splintering wood and smashing stone. Instantly, the two children turned in unison towards the noise and found themselves staring at a twelve foot tall creature with dull grey skin and a body that looked like it might have been made of clay.
"Troll!" squeaked the girl, clutching the boy in shock.
"That can't be a troll," Harry said, incredulous. He knew he should be feeling panic, but instead, all he felt was the cold calm in his chest. "It's skin isn't rubbery and warty, it's not thin and frail, and it doesn't have any hair!"
"It's a troll!" Hermione protested, and Harry let the argument drop when he saw the creature size them up before raising a club.
Instinctively, Harry pushed Hermione behind him, doffing his outer robe and shoving it into her hands.
"Hey!" Hermione protested.
"You got something this, be my guest," said Harry. When Hermione shook her head weakly, he nodded grimly. "Yeah, I didn't think so."
For once, Harry was glad his prior injury had been to his right leg, which gave him a reason to hold the cane in his right hand. Wordlessly, he pitched it forward towards the troll, passing Astral power through the object just as it left his fingertips, then grabbed Hermione by the arm and pulled her away from the gigantic creature as it charged forward with a roar, running for the far wall as fast as he could.
The roar quickly turned into a cry of pain; turning around from across the room, Harry could see the troll was half-way into the room but was transfixed on his cane, which was buried up to the crook in the creature's belly, making it unable to go further without utterly disemboweling itself.
Seeing the stuck creature, Hermione exhaled in relief, then saw the look on Harry's face, a combination of grim determination and calculated malice. "Harry, what are you…"
"Whatever happens next, swear you'll never tell anybody," said the raven-haired boy as he turned to the girl, grabbing her by the shoulders as his emerald eyes piercing deep into her soul, sending a chill down her smile.
"Harry, you're hurting me," she said protested, and the boy let go of her arms.
"Swear you'll never tell anybody," the boy repeated, eyes burning holes into her soul.
Swallowing, Hermione nodded solemnly. "I swear I'll never tell anybody."
The next dozen seconds were the worst of Hermione Granger's young life.
Stepping forward, the boy wrapped his left hand in a fist around his right index finger, which he held up vertically, saying, "Creo ignem!" in a loud, clear voice before extending his right hand. From his fingertips burst forth a long jet of a orange-white fire, spraying across the room and bathing the troll's bald head and chest in flames, making the creature shriek in pain as its skin and flesh sizzled and melted away, filling the air with the scent of meat being roasted as fat dripped onto the floor in small pools.
It continued for what felt like an eternity, the creature writhing and howling in agony, until its cries slowly turned into whimpers and its struggles turned into mere twitching, then silence and stillness as it finally slumped forward heavily onto the cane, which Hermione could now see was glowing an almost imperceptible blue.
Hermione retched, eyes watering from the smoke and the smell of burnt flesh.
"If you're going to throw up, use the toilet," said the boy calmly, before once again taking his finger in his hand. "Creo auram."
Hermione rushed into one of the stalls just as she fell a blast of cold air rush out of the room; she dry heaved into the toilet, her stomach already empty from having skipped lunch.
Behind her, she heard the boy say "Perdo corporem," but she was too busy trying to lose the lunch she didn't have to really pay attention.
It took her a minute to regain her composure; when she did, she found the boy waiting for her, brow slightly furrowed by otherwise no worse for wear, though the troll was now sitting across the room, slumped against a wall, blood and viscera splattered everywhere but on herself and the boy.
"Why'd you do that?" Hermione asked, accusation in her voice.
"It would have killed us, if had the chance, and I've been killed by too many trolls to let one get us in meatspace," the boy said flatly. "Trolls will regenerate against anything other than acid and fire, so those were my only options, and I don't have anything for acid."
"I don't know where you read that, but that's not true," Hermione said.
"Then it's not a troll," the boy said. "Maybe a stone giant, but definitely not a troll."
Hermione swallowed as the boy came to her, nearly jerking away when their hands touched.
He calmly took the robe from her hands and put it back on.
"Are you all right?" he asked, concern clear in his face and voice at her extreme reaction.
Hermione nodded weakly, still unsure how she felt about the boy who had saved her life but had burned a living thing to death in doing so.
"We should go," the boy said. "Wouldn't want people asking questions."
Hermione nodded again, letting the boy take her by the hand and lead her from the bathroom demolished by battle, too tired to resist. As they came around the corner, Hermione spotted a procession of professors and started to call out to them, only to find the boy suddenly clamping his hand over her mouth, yanking the hand he had in his up between her shoulder blades in a painful joint lock and dragging her back around the corner. Trying the door he had pulled her to with an elbow even as she struggled against his hold, he found it locked and quickly glanced at it before whispering, "Muto terram."
The door unlocked with a click, and the boy dragged her into the room, closing the door behind them with his foot. Pressing his ear against the door, he held them against the surface until he heard the footfall fade, then finally let her go.
Instantly, Hermione spun around to face him, nearly in tears as she struck and slapped at him again and again with open hands. "Why'd you do that?" she demanded in a huff, though her voice was soft. "They could have helped!"
"I don't want them asking how the boy who can't use magic used magic," he said calmly.
"I thought you didn't care what people thought about you," Hermione accused, sneering angrily, and immediately regretted her tone, cringing inside at the sudden thought of losing her friend, her only friend, the friend who had just saved her from a troll.
"I don't," said the boy, a wry smile on his lips. "I care what they know about me."
Hermione had a retort ready on her lips, but a low growl from behind made the two turn towards the source of the sound.
Not too far away, a three-headed dog glowered at them, a gnarl rumbling in it back of its three throats as drool dolloped onto the trapdoor it stood over.
"I think this was why the corridor on the right side of the third floor is prohibited," Hermione said, and the boy nodded in agreement.
"We should go," said the boy
'We should," Hermione agreed, and the two quietly slipped out of the room, into empty halls.
"I'm really sorry about dragging you into that room," the boy apologize. "Let me walk you back to Ravenclaw tower?" he asked, and Hermione nodded.
"You know, if you want to make friends, you'll need to take the first step," he said. "You can't just expect them to approach you and ask; sometimes, you've got to make an effort, take the first step and just talk to them, find out what they like, discover common ground that you have. Friend's don't just appear out of thin air, you know? It's an investment in other people, and an investment other people make in you."
Hermione nodded, considering the words the boy said. "Thanks, Harry," she murmurred.
"Null sweat, chummer," Harry said, and they fell into a comfortable quiet.
As the two walked together in silence, Hermione found herself looking at the boy in a new light. Yes, he was still Harry Potter, the boy she had met in Diagon Alley, the boy who she had briefly thought might be a prince who could sweep her away on a white steed, but that girlish fantasy had been dashed the first time they met at Jason's hobby shop and he chastised her for her willingness to believe anything she read. He was still the boy who had given her advice on how she could see the world and how she could live her life, though, and he would keep doing it, even if she said mean things to him, as she had just done.
But he was also a killer, someone who could and would make hard choices, someone she could rely on to do what needed to be done to keep her safe, to burn those who would harm her to torturous death. She wanted to condemn him, to call him a murderer, to disavow their friendship, but she could not; if the situation had been reversed, she did not know if she could have done for him what he had for her, and in her heart, she hoped she never would have to find out. Truthfully, she feared it was not something she had the strength to do.
Hermione looked at Harry again. It was true, he was no knight in shining armor, but he had risked his life to protect hers all the same, and that was what mattered, or at least that's what she told herself as they came to the door at Ravenclaw Tower.
"Remember, make an effort, talk to people, find out about them as individuals, what makes them tick," Harry advised, and she nodded. "I need to get back to Hufflepuff. I'll see you tomorrow?"
Hermione nodded again, then watched as her only friend departed before turning back to the door of the tower. Today, he was her only friend, but she was going to strive to make more.
~ooOoo~
"What on earth were you thinking of?" demanded Professor McGonagall furiously, an icy edge in her voice. "Why weren't you in your dormitory?"
Neville Longbottom wasn't quite sure how to answer; after Professor Quirrell had stumbled into the Great Hall, ranting and raving about trolls, Fay had been the one to remember Harry had went looking for Granger and did not know about the situation.
"We were looking for Harry Potter and Hermione Granger," said the Gryffindor girl brightly, smiling widely and hiding her awe as she surveyed the carnage around her. "They weren't at the feast because Ron had made Hermione cry, so they wouldn't have known about the troll."
Snape gave Neville a sharp look, but the boy was far too baked to care; he had smoked a fresh spliff with Fay right before the feast to whet their appetites, and now, he felt immensely relaxed despite the gore spread across the bathroom and the corpse slumped against the wall, a puddle of blood pooling under it.
Besides, the smell of roasted flesh was making him even more hungry.
"Why didn't you notify a prefect?" the Scottish professor inquired.
"We did, but they did nothing," Neville drawled, knowing the answer to that question.
"So we went looking for Harry and Hermione, and found this troll instead," Fay said.
"And you slew the troll?" asked the professor, incredulously.
"Yes, ma'am," Fay said cheerfully, an outright lie. "I've been practicing incendio tria so it was the first thing that came to mind, but my control's still not very good yet."
"Well, you were lucky," said the professor. "Not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. Five points each for Gryffindor. You may go; students are finishing the feast in their houses."
The two smokers hurried from the chamber, staying silent until they had left the floor.
Neville spoke first. "Fay, why did you take credit for it?"
"If it was Harry, do you think he'd want people to know it was him?" Fay asked.
"But everyone says Harry can't do magic!"
"What makes you think he'd need magic to do this? You heard about what he did to Draco and you saw what he did to Weasley. Do you think he wouldn't be capable of doing that to a troll?"
"What if it was Granger?"
"Do you think Granger would have the stomach to kill a troll? Especially like that?"
Neville pondered the question seriously, but then decided it was too much effort. He was still hungry, and there was going to be a feast in Gryffindor Tower.
Author's Notes: As you can see, things tend to escalate quickly around this version of Harry and he's quite comfortable with violence; it's a byproduct of the violence and abuse he's been exposed to as a child. He may be many things, but a saint he is not. At least he's perceptive enough to be self-aware of his own moral short-comings.
For those wondering why Harry reacts so calmly to the troll and imminent death, or any situation really, it should be noted that he pretty much feels nothing at this point, or at least feels it in a very muted manner. This goes back to his tattoo and the sigils, materials and methodology used in its creation: ᛉ, algiz, is not only a rune of protection and the higher self, but also of the control of emotion, and blue kyanite keeps his mind safe from manipulation, including from his own emotions. In a sense, by protecting his mind from intrusions, Harry broke himself.
Smuggling. Distribution of a controlled substance. Aggravated battery with a deadly weapon. Intimidation. Voluntary manslaughter. Evidence tampering. Fleeing a crime scene. Obstruction of justice. Kidnapping. Breaking and entering. It's only been a couple months at Hogwarts, and Harry's already committed an array of crimes. As to why he's okay with it, again, he's a moral consequentialist, and cyberpunk has taught him crime's only a problem if you get caught and can't make the investigating officer go away. I know, it's probably not a genre children should be consuming, but he's been consuming it at a very rapid rate. Expect a lot more crimes to be committed by this terrible person who is also the main character of this story before the tale is concluded. Morally flexible Harry is fun.
I always enjoy writing the more introspective parts of the story. That said, Harry isn't smarter than Hermione despite the way he acts; he just happens to have more life experience and better friends than she's had. To make a Dungeons & Dragons analogy, she has a higher Intelligence score than he does, but his Wisdom score is higher and he's got a couple levels on her, and in real life, that's kind of important. She's had a sheltered life; he's had to make things work.
This chapter is as much about Hermione as it was about Harry; how does an idealistic girl like herself come to terms with somebody who is morally flexible? It's a process of self-justification and rationalizing things to yourself so the world keeps making sense. Hermione is probably going to be doing a lot of that.
And no, Harry isn't Neville or Fay's friend, even if they are his. He's a terrible person, so he's terrible accordingly.
The next chapter's a long one.
Reviews and PMs are welcome as always. Usual credits to Shinshikaizer and goalie12345.