Professor Quirrell rose from his seat, drew his smaller wand, and settled into a ready stance. One foot extended a little, the other back and to the side, his balance centered low for quick movement.

"There are three essential parts to a magical duel," he said. "The first is the physical ability to move when and how the situation requires. Accuracy, speed, flexibility, reflexes. Without being able to aim precisely, without being able to intercept enemy spells, you are doomed before you begin. Second is your repertoire of spells, of course, and third is sheer magical energy. You will not be able to cast many spells quickly or powerfully yet, you are very young."

Quirrell brought his wand up and aimed at Harry, said "Lumonitio," and a quick flash of white light shot out from the wand tip and struck Harry right in the chest.

Harry blinked instinctively as the bright projectile sped toward him, then glanced down to where it had hit. He didn't feel anything, but there was a roughly hand-sized circle of illumination on the front his robes.

"It is a variation on Lumos, requiring very little power," Quirrell explained as the light began fading. He walked over to stand beside Harry. "The wand motion is simple as well, an inverted V which can be cast very quickly and in any position. Pronounced LU-mo-NEE-she-oh."

Harry repeated the incantation, with Quirrell correcting his timing or pronunciation each time, until he could say it to the professor's satisfaction. Then he practiced the wand movement, a quick and simple motion, but one whose angle did alter the flight of the spell. When the professor was satisfied with his progress on that as well, he allowed Harry to actually attempt casting it.

"Lumonitio," Harry said, swiping Quirrell's wand up and down in the quick movement. Nothing happened, but he could feel that it hadn't happened because he'd been uncommitted. He concentrated on the icy warmth of the wand, the quiet almost imperceptible tingling of magic that suffused him.

"Lumonitio. Lumonitio."

The third time a thin light flew from the wand's tip, spreading a circle of illumination on the wall. Lower down than Harry had expected; the spell's wand movement had changed his aim more than he anticipated.

"This is the first lesson," Quirrell said, gesturing to the spot of glowing wall. "You must learn how to start your wand movements instinctively so they will finish where you wish to aim, not aim where you wish and then start the movement. Some spells can be done without a particular motion, just as some spells can be done without the incantation, and some without either. However, the use of either incantation or proper wand movements help to strengthen and focus the magic to the proper and desired form, and using both is always the ideal."

Harry nodded, tried again. This time his aim was off by an even greater amount, sending the light somewhat to the right and above the space he was aiming for.

"Notice that the second spot of light is a little smaller," Quirrell said. "This is because you are still maintaining the first light. It is connected to you, charged with your energy. And since your magic is still weak and unpracticed, that will lessen the strength of any additional spells you cast. The spell to end your magic is Finite." He repeated it slower, with strong emphasis. "Fi-NEE-tay. It requires no special wand movements, simply indicate the spell you wish ended."

Harry pointed the yew wand at the larger spot. "Finite. Finite." The glow faded away after the second try. He canceled the second luminitio as well, then tried the cast light spell again.

"You can attain a similar effect by pushing less energy into the spell initially, or make a wider area with greater effort. While this spell isn't generally considered useful I find it a handy thing to have on hand, especially for checking your magic levels easily. Once you're more familiar with your magic you'll be able to tell by the size of your lumonitio exactly how strong your magic is and how many more spells you can cast without fear of over-exertion."

Harry practiced for several minutes, Quirrell offering occasional comment, until the professor's small desk clock began emitting a quiet buzz. Harry glanced at it. It had ten hands, each shaped differently. Three rested at the white section at the bottom of the strange clock face, labeled 'plenty of time.' Most other hands were sitting at various spots in the 'should be preparing' wedge, while one vibrated with increasing volume while pointing to the top section marked 'right now.' The black section, with no hands pointing to it, said 'LATE' in large silver letters.

Quirrell held out his hand, and Harry reluctantly returned the borrowed wand.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said. Though his aim hadn't much improved, he was able to do two spells now, and knew how to cancel them. And this was just the beginning. Exhilaration brought a smile he couldn't have stopped if he'd tried.

"I'll send someone to arrange our future meetings," Quirrell said. He tucked the yew wand deep in his robes, then crossed to a cabinet and began collecting scrolls and books and stacking them in midair. "I'm sure your schedule will leave plenty of time, but mine is, alas, more full."

Harry nodded. "I understand. Thank you again."

He turned and left the office, only realizing after he was three halls away that the snake had not hung around to lead him back, and he couldn't really remember where he was supposed to go.

"Anyone know how to get back to the dungeons?" he asked in a loud hiss, hoping against hope that there would be some other snakes around.

He continued down the corridor, opened a few doors in hopes of finding a stairway down, but only found classrooms too big to fit next to each other whose windows all inexplicably showed the grounds outside.

Harry wondered if he should go back and ask Professor Quirrell for help, but when he turned around the stairs no longer connected this hallway to the fourth floor where the Defence classroom and its accompanying office were located. Instead, a thin ladder led down to the balcony below. Though why the third floor would have a ladder down to a second floor balcony which only overlooked the stairways Harry couldn't begin to guess.

Still, he was trying to reach the dungeons, so he climbed carefully down the ladder and onto the balcony, only to find that it only connected to a classroom full of small animals in cages, whose other door was firmly locked.

"Do any of you know how to reach the dungeons?" he asked. None of the animals replied, so he tried again in parseltongue. There were only two small snakes among the animals, but they didn't acknowledge him. Looking closer, he realized they must be constructs. While they looked different than the ones Professor Quirrell had created, they were completely identical to each other, lay in their individual cages in the same position, and equally ignored his attempts to speak.

He wondered if all the creatures in this room were artificial magical constructs, decided he didn't want to think about it, and returned to the balcony.

Looking down at the criss-crossing stairs below, Harry thought they seemed to go down a lot farther than any second story had a right to. None were close enough to jump to, so he climbed back up to the third floor on the hanging ladder. Which made even less sense the more he thought about it.

"Lumonitio," he whispered, aiming for the hallway across the open area. "Lumonitio. Lumonitio." He failed the spell almost as often as he succeeded, his wand still refusing to behave itself, but finally managed three glowing spots of light on the distant wall. That hall connected to the stairs leading downward at the moment, so all he had to do was keep looking around the corners of every hall on this level. He would place a single spot of light at each intersection he had already checked, so even if the hallways decided to go wrong directions, he'd eventually find the one with three spots.

But he had to move fast. He knew that his light-spot would only last at most about eight minutes.

He set off running through the corridors, pausing long enough to tag each corner with Lumonitio as he passed. He got turned around twice, ended at a blank wall once, but reached the top of the stair as the second glowing patch was fading. He sighed with relief, rushed down the stairway before it got into its mind to move again.

To his relief, the second floor stairs were in the same position as he'd left them, and from there he found his way back to the dungeons with relative ease. He got slightly lost three times, but ran across a pair of small green snakes hiding in a dead-end corridor who were able to direct him back toward the dungeons.

"Hydra," he said to the blank wall, out of breath and relieved that he'd found his way back. He wanted to just flop down in one of those big, comfortable chairs. He had a new spell, a very useful new spell as it turned out. Harry grinned at the thought that he had actually made it all the way back to his common room on his own.

His smile faded as he saw a dozen faces turn toward him. The common room was no longer empty. He had been away long enough that most of the house was awake. Conversations fell silent for just a moment, as everyone assessed him.

Harry stood straight, though all the attention made him want to run and hide, forced himself to stay still as he surveyed the common room. He didn't recognize any of the students present. Most were considerably older and larger.

"Harry, there you are!" Pansy stood and waved to him from a group of older female students.

He hurried over, barely remembering to move with an attempt at dignified speed. As if he knew what speed was dignified or not. He could feel himself being watched, weighed. Surely everyone knew he was just pretending to know what he was doing. They were Slytherin, of course they saw through his attempts at seeming strong and confident.

But then he saw Pansy's smile, and the watchers no longer mattered. She slid over slightly, making room for him to sit on the arm of her seat.

"Everyone, this is Harry." She seemed almost to glow when she said it. Harry couldn't hide the warmth in his cheeks. He didn't deserve so much attention. But Pansy just carried on.

"Harry, these are Rachel and Imogen, they're a year above us, and Sylvia. She's third year, same as Sadie."

Harry nodded and shook their hands, murmured polite acknowledgment. Their smiling faces made him wonder, just for a minute, if he could actually be the person they imagined him as.

Harry tried to pay attention to the conversation, but since he'd joined in the middle it didn't make much sense to him. They didn't actually seem to care whether he was involved or not. So he remained silent and watched, feeling very out-of-place the entire time.

Sylvia seemed uncertain about the whole conversation, eagerly latching onto certain topics - seemingly at random - but never taking the initiative.

Rachel fiddled with her green hairband throughout the conversation, but it seemed like a casual habit more than nervousness. She certainly didn't look ill-at-ease, laughing and interjecting with relaxed surety.

Imogen (Gen, as Rachel called her) talked the most, leading the discussion through one topic after another. Most were opaque to Harry; either girl-related or magic-related things that he had insufficient context for.

Pansy didn't speak nearly as much, but she did so with firm clarity. Harry watched her most, trying to memorize her confidence.

Then someone tapped Harry's shoulder and he startled so hard he nearly toppled off his seat. He turned, saw a dark-haired wolfish boy watching him with a smile.

"Harry Potter," the boy said. He proffered his hand. "I'm Cole. Spencer. I suggest we arrange a time to meet privately. I have a lot to discuss with you."

"Thanks," Harry said, twisting to politely clasp hands, but not entirely comfortable with either the boy's smile or his closeness. Having people stand behind him while he was sitting made him distinctly uneasy. "I'll be sure to keep your offer in mind," he said neutrally.

"We both have free period tuesday mornings." Cole leaned even closer and lowered his voice, "I know a lot about starting from the bottom. I'm half-blood too, and a reputation only goes as far as you know to use it. Find me when you're ready."

Harry shrugged noncommittally and turned back to the girls, who, he suddenly realized, had fallen silent to stare at him. Or, more accurately, at Cole.

Pansy was giving the older boy a glower that Harry was very glad to not have directed his way. Cole had turned away, though, and apparently not noticed.

"Who does he think he is?" Pansy hissed. "Disgraceful! Trying to curry favour with you already, and without much plan if you ask me. What was that even supposed to be? Mysterious with a side of creepy?"

Rachel snorted with laughter. "More like he thinks he's in a play, arranging some perilous rendezvous."

"I don't need him," Harry said defiantly.

Pansy nodded firmly. "Right you are. Cole 'technically halfblood' Spencer can keep his mysterious rendezvous." She smiled, pulled out her quill and parchment from her bag. "But, useless or no. . ."

She scribbled a quick notation, listing his name along with what looked like every other student who'd approached Harry at the feast the previous night.

The conversation continued, slipping through various topics. A few interested Harry, but he didn't try to interrupt. He had nothing of value to add to the conversation, after all. Growing up at the Dursleys meant his entire context of existence was irrelevant.

This day, this castle, this was where Harry Potter, Wizard, began. So for now, he listened.