Hogwarts Staff Meeting Room
It was nearly tradition for the Hogwarts staff to have a meeting right after the start of term feast to discuss the sorting and their impressions of the new first years. Normally, it was a relaxed affair, more of an excuse for the new Defense professor to get to know the rest of the staff and to celebrate the start of a new term.
However, this year, the atmosphere of the meeting was far less relaxed.
Filius Flitwick, the diminutive Charms professor, was the first to speak up.
"Minerva! From what you told me about your trip with him to Diagon Alley, I was sure that Mr. Potter would be joining my house!"
"I thought so too Filius! He spent over an hour in Flourish and Blotts just reading! I saw some of the books he purchased: 'Intermediate Transfiguration' and 'Introduction to Algebra, Trigonometry, and Runic Arrays'."
Bathsheda Babbling, the Ancient Runes professor, perked up.
"Really? I assign 'Introduction to Algebra, Trigonometry, and Runic Arrays' to my fourth years once we finish covering the runic alphabet and circular runic structures! Are you sure you saw correctly?"
Minerva McGonagall nodded adamantly.
"Absolutely! Even if the boy has no idea what the book says, it speaks volumes about his intellectual curiosity."
Albus Dumbledore, seated at the end of the meeting table, nodded sagely.
"Yes, Harry Potter is turning out to be quite the mystery indeed. Severus, what do you think of the boy, as his new head of house?"
Severus Snape sneered.
"He's nothing special, though I imagine he'll soon be making a mess of the castle, just like his father. Especially with Draco Malfoy by his side. Those two were together the entire sorting and feast."
Dumbledore blinked. Now this was an interesting development. He would have thought that Harry would have a hard time making friends in Slytherin, especially with someone like Draco Malfoy. He didn't really have an issue with the friendship. Draco Malfoy, and all the other Slytherin first years were just that; first years. Eleven year olds were eleven year olds regardless of house. The main issue would be the parents. Dumbledore could not allow Harry to meet Lucius Malfoy. As his magical guardian, he had enough influence to prevent this, so for now, even if Harry's sorting had not been ideal, things were okay.
Slytherin Dormitories (HP)
Harry woke at 7 AM. He knew it was 7 AM even without a clock because at some point, his body had gotten so used to waking up at that time to make breakfast for the Dursleys that he couldn't wake at any other time if he tried.
He sat on his bed, fuzzy green carpet between his toes. He looked through the window. Beams of light filtered down through the green waters of the lake, illuminating his room. It was so quiet. With all the excitement that had come yesterday, Harry just sat in silence for a few moments, breathing it all in.
For the vast majority of his life, there had been little going on in his meager existence worth seriously pondering. But now, he took the time to take stock of his situation and organize his thoughts.
His relationship with Draco: Friendly rivals for now. The boy was quite bigoted in regards to blood purity, but it was likely a product of his upbringing. Otherwise, he was pleasant enough to hang out with. Additionally, Draco was an extremely important person within Slytherin. His sister was magically powerful, academically gifted, and held a lot of sway amongst the older students. Draco himself was also a Malfoy. He had seen the way other students looked at him during the feast, thinking up schemes to curry his favor, likely directives from their parents. Yes, Harry was quite pleased with their current arrangement. He wouldn't let Draco get too close though. He could tell that their conflicting views on blood would eventually boil over, so it would be best to keep things casual and friendly with the boy.
Cassiopeia Malfoy and the Dueling Club: He had taken up Draco's challenge of climbing the dueling ladder out of his interest in Ms. Malfoy. He really had no idea how good he might be at the sport, but he would at least have to try. It would not be a good look to either of the Malfoy siblings if he was magically inept. Personally, he wasn't particularly interested in rising to the top of the ladder. It would only attract more eyes to his person, and he already had enough of that. Not to say that he didn't relish the prospect of dueling. He quite looked forward to the first club meeting.
Professor Snape: The Potions Master seemed to be watching him like a hawk. He couldn't quite tell what his intentions were, but the man let nothing slip from his facial expression. Hopefully it would just remain this way. He didn't need the attention of the professors as well as the students.
Professor Quirrell: Unlike the others, this thought had a tinge of the ominous. He had never met the man before, and if even Draco didn't know much about him, he probably wouldn't figure out much either. And that pain in his scar! The scar he had supposedly received from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Did Professor Quirrell have a connection to the evil wizard? And the two crowns! He had yet to come up with a satisfactory explanation. Harry concluded that there were just too many unknowns to say, and vowed to be extra careful when attending his class.
The Crowns: Harry's primary, ongoing project was the investigation of the intangible crowns which, under his Magic Sight, appeared over the heads of witches and wizards. The crowns could be described by four main components: amplitude, frequency, radius, and color. As for other non magical beings and muggles, they possessed a halo, which were essentially crowns of no amplitude or frequency. Thus, Harry concluded that amplitude and frequency were unique to magical beings, whereas a non-zero radius was fundamental to all living things. Colors seemed to be associated with an important part of one's personality or physicality. He had measured the characteristics of his own crown: amplitude of 3 cm, wavelength of 1.5 cm, which translated to a frequency of 0.67 cm-1, and a radius of 12 cm. What any of these numbers represented, he was determined to find out. At Hogwarts, there were hundreds of magical students, all with their own unique crowns. How he would measure their dimensions was another issue.
Deciding he had sat for long enough, Harry stood up and pulled out his toiletries from his trunk. It was still quite early, and the boy's bathroom was completely empty. He returned to his room and changed into his school robes. Feeling his pockets, he was glad to find that he still had his wand.
Breakfast officially started at 8 AM, and with nearly an hour to spare, Harry decided to familiarize himself with the dungeons. The trip from the Great Hall down to the common room had been exceptionally confusing and he did not want to have to ask for directions every time. There were a few students sitting in the common room, who stared unabashedly at him as he walked past.
The dungeons were surprisingly warm for a maze of underground tunnels, and Harry spent nearly thirty minutes just wandering around. He began recognizing small landmarks and soon, the dungeons didn't seem nearly as frightening as they did the night before. He returned to a much more populated common room and was confronted by Draco.
"An early riser, huh? Where'd you go off to?"
"Oh, just did some exploring. In case you haven't memorized the route down to the common room, I suggest you do the same eventually."
Draco shook his head, grinning. "No, no need for me. I can just have you guide me now."
Harry rolled his eyes, and the boys headed off to breakfast after grabbing their book bags.
Harry, ever the light eater, had some porridge, a hardboiled egg, and a banana whereas Draco piled his plate high with sausages, scrambled eggs, an assortment of fruit, and toast. Crabbe and Goyle only ate bacon.
Afterwards, they were handed their schedules by Professor Snape.
On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, the Slytherin first years had Transfiguration and History of Magic with the Ravenclaws in the morning, Charms and Herbology with the Hufflepuffs after lunch, and Potions and Defense with the Gryffindors in the afternoon.
On Tuesdays, they had double Transfiguration, Charms, and Herbology with the Ravenclaws and Astronomy in the evening with the Hufflepuffs.
On Thursdays, they had double History of Magic, Potions, and Defense with the Gryffindors and Astronomy in the evening once again with the Hufflepuffs.
Draco turned to him.
"Well, my trusty guide, any idea where the Transfiguration classroom is?"
"Nope, never got that far. We have thirty minutes though, so we should be fine."
It turned out that thirty minutes was just barely enough time, and the two made it to Professor McGonagall's classroom with three minutes to spare. Given the sparsely populated classroom, the other first years were similarly struggling.
The classroom quickly filled, and a Slytherin girl with long blonde hair and sharp cheekbones he recognized from the sorting sat down beside him.
"Hello. I'm Daphne Greengrass. Nice to meet you Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy."
Both boys dipped their heads in acknowledgement, but turned their attention to the front of the classroom as the cat sitting on the teacher's desk leaped off, suddenly turning into Professor McGonagall.
There were collective gasps across the classroom and even a bit of applause.
"Good morning and welcome to your first Transfiguration class. Transfiguration is a complex and dangerous subject, so I expect your best effort and utmost attention during class time. Messing around will not be tolerated; transfiguration accidents are some of the most frequent and most dangerous of magical accidents. Am I understood?"
The class murmured its understanding, and Professor McGonagall turned toward the chalkboard, beginning her lecture on the theory of transfiguration.
Harry sat forward in his seat. He had been looking forward to this.
Harry was slightly disappointed. McGonagall had spoken at length about how wand movement, intent, and visualization led to the transfiguration of the object. It was all incredibly abstract and imprecise.
After the lecture, Professor McGonagall began handing out wooden matchsticks. The assignment was to turn them into sewing needles by the end of the period.
Harry inspected the matchstick. Wood and metal were his most practiced substrates. Even though this would be his first time performing transfiguration with a wand, this shouldn't be too much trouble.
He visualized his magic engulfing the match in his hand, rearranging the molecules that made the match a match into what made a needle a needle, and tapped it lightly with his wand. Nothing happened.
Harry frowned. He looked around the classroom to see that almost everyone else was struggling as well. Almost everyone.
"Having trouble Potter?" said Greengrass, smirking at him and holding up her now metallic looking match.
Professor McGonagall, spotting the partial transformation, came over and inspected it.
"Excellent work, Ms. Greengrass. Try to visualize more the form of the needle; you seem to have the texture down quite nicely. One point to Slytherin."
Draco, to Harry's left, glared at the girl.
"Just look at her smug face. Come on Harry, if she gets the transfiguration before either of us, we'll never live it down."
Harry returned to staring at his match. He wasn't nearly as concerned about Greengrass' success as Draco was; he was far more confused why absolutely nothing had happened. He could easily do this wandlessly, so why was it so much harder with a wand?
Just to make sure that this was actually the case, he set down his wand and concentrated. He imagined his magic imbuing the match, enforcing a new structural regime, altering its appearance.
The match slowly morphed into a shiny, metallic needle. Once the transfiguration settled, Harry quickly recalled the magic inside the needle, and the match resurfaced.
Harry looked to his left. Fortunately, Draco had not seen his little test run.
Harry looked to his right, and found Daphne Greengrass staring at him intently. Whoops, seems like someone had noticed.
"What in the world was that!" the girl whispered. "How did you do it without a wand?"
Harry was enormously relieved that Greengrass had the good sense to not announce his success aloud.
Trying to salvage the situation, he said, "I dunno. Just stared at it really hard and really wanted it to turn into a needle. I suppose it could have been a bit of accidental magic?"
Greengrass raised a delicate eyebrow, clearly not believing him.
"Sure, whatever you say Potter."
Harry sighed. He would deal with Greengrass later. He picked up his wand. What if he just attempted the transformation the same way he had wandlessly, just with a wand this time?
Once again, Harry imagined his magic, now being channeled through his wand, envelope the match and supplant its structure with that of a shiny, metallic needle.
Once again, absolutely nothing happened. This was starting to get annoying.
Draco, now also having successfully produced a metal sheen on his matchstick, grinned over at him.
"Don't fret, dear Harry. I'm just naturally talented. Keep at it, you'll get it eventually."
"Oh well done! Everyone, take a look, Ms. Greengrass has performed a complete transfiguration! 5 points to Slytherin," came Professor McGonagall's voice, holding up a perfect, shiny needle above a smiling Daphne Greengrass.
"Not as talented as her." Harry muttered at Draco, who groaned.
Harry kept attempting the transfiguration with his wand, only to be met with the same result. Eventually, he swallowed his pride and leaned over to Greengrass' side of the table. She was currently attempting to transfigure a Slytherin 'S' into her needle.
"Hey Greengrass, how did you do it? I'm having a bit of trouble."
The girl rolled her eyes.
"As if you need any help. You got it before me, and without a wand."
Harry lowered his voice.
"I'm being serious. I just can't seem to get anything to happen while using my wand. I'm visualizing the process and really concentrating."
Greengrass frowned.
"That's odd. Normally, the wandless version of any magical effort is significantly harder and requires a better understanding of the object."
"That's the thing, I'm confident that I replicated the exact thought process of my successful wandless attempt while I had a wand and nothing happened!" he replied.
Daphne nodded.
"That might be the problem. The way wandless transfiguration works might be fundamentally different from how transfiguration with a wand works, so it makes sense that the same thought process might yield different results. For me, I just imagined the match turning into a needle and willed it to happen, as simple as that sounds."
Now it was Harry's turn to frown.
"What, that's it? You didn't imagine your magic doing anything to the match? Nothing about how the transformation took place?"
Daphne shook her head and Harry returned to his match. Maybe he was just overthinking it.
After imagining the match morph into a shiny, metallic needle and focusing his intent, he gave it a light tap with his wand.
Instantly, the match became a thin, steel needle.
He examined it closely. It wasn't quite the same as the needle he had imagined in his head, whereas the one he transfigured with wandless magic had. Additionally, he couldn't really feel a connection to the magic that had been used in the transfiguration. As such, he wasn't able to "call back" his magic to end the transfiguration.
To his right, Greengrass was beaming at him.
"Nice job! Thanks to my tutelage, no doubt." she said, her grin growing wider.
"It really was. I appreciate the help, truly." he said, bowing his head.
He raised his hand, and Professor McGonagall approached his desk.
"Yes, Mr. Potter? Did you have a question?"
Then, she noticed his needle and gave an approving nod.
"Excellent work, Mr. Potter. Take a point for Slytherin. It seems you've inherited your father's skill for transfiguration. You may begin practicing transfiguring your needle back into a match."
Harry nodded, filing away the comment about his father for later.
"Actually, professor, about that. Are there ways to end transfigurations other than to simply do another transfiguration or wait for the original transfiguration to fade?"
"That is an excellent question." Professor McGonagall said, giving him a small smile. "In your third year here at Hogwarts, once you have gained a better feel for your magic and wand, you will learn to actively manage your transfigurations. This way, you can continually fuel your transfigurations and sustain them for as long as necessary. There is, of course, a minimum threshold of magic required to sustain any transfiguration; you'll learn all about the factors involved in determining this threshold later. A side effect of this fact is that masters of transfiguration who actively manage their transfigurations can maintain them at just barely above this threshold. This not only saves magical expenditure, but if he or she wishes to end the transfiguration, all he or she must do is stop fueling it. The closer the amount of magic in the transfiguration to the threshold, the more quickly it will end once no longer fueled."
"I can understand the reasoning behind that. However, why couldn't you immediately end the transfiguration by commanding the magic to disperse, or even better, just reabsorb it?" said Harry.
Professor McGonagall responded, "Unfortunately, such a thing is not possible. The magic that comes out of your wand during a transfiguration is directed to do one thing and one thing only: sustain the transfiguration of an object. Its directive cannot be altered once it leaves your wand. It would be like calling back a curse after casting it, or telling it to curve around a corner."
Harry nodded, and Professor McGonagall left to contend with another student.
This confirmed his hypothesis. Wandless magic was a far more intimate process. The magic used in the transfiguration was infused with his will, an extension of his own mind. He could call it back to his main self to end whatever transfiguration his will-infused magic was sustaining. Given enough practice, he imagined that he could command the magic sustaining a transfiguration to sustain a different transfiguration without actually having to cast again.
On the other hand, transfiguration performed with a wand required less direct involvement and mental effort. The wand interpreted his will and siphoned magic from him to carry it out. This magic was less perfect in its execution, though Harry suspected that this may be because it was his first day of actually using his wand. The magic supporting the transfiguration also could not be called back before the transfiguration faded, as it was directed by the wand, not himself.
On the other hand, a benefit of using the wand as a conduit was that it could handle a lot more magic, seeing as the transfiguration he had just performed was almost instant. Additionally, it had held for over five minutes; far longer than he expected his original needle would have lasted.
"That was an interesting question you posed. You really do have a mind for academics. Would you be willing to join me in doing transfiguration assignments in the future?" asked Greengrass.
Another friendship? Harry was happy to oblige.
"Of course, it would be my pleasure. As long as I may call you Daphne." he said, grinning.
"You certainly may, Harry." replied Daphne, returning his smile.
The period ended, and Harry, Draco, and Daphne got up together for their next class: History of Magic.
Whispers followed him as he made his way around the castle, and Harry tried his best to ignore them.
"Hanging around a Malfoy? What is he, the next Dark Lord?"
"Has anyone seen his scar? His hair's always in the way."
"He's a lot shorter than I expected."
They once again reached the classroom just in time and sat together in the front row of the class, with Harry between Draco and Daphne.
"When did you two become such good friends?" Draco inquired.
"She helped me figure out the needle transfiguration, and after I asked an insightful question to Professor McGonagall, we felt that working together in the future would be a good academic arrangement." Harry replied.
"Worried that I'm stealing the Boy-Who-Lived from you, Malfoy?" Daphne teased.
Draco spluttered, and Harry laughed. It felt good having friends.
Class began, and they soon realized that History of Magic was an absolute waste of time. Professor Binns, an actual ghost, read verbatim from a textbook the entire time in the most monotonic, droning voice Harry had ever heard. In ten minutes, nearly half the class was asleep.
Harry, realizing that this was a perfect opportunity to inspect his first ghost, activated his Magic Sight.
As it turned out, ghosts had neither a halo nor a crown. This aligned with his previous observations. The radius of a halo or crown was present in any living thing regardless of magical status. Ghosts were not alive, and as such, had no radius. With no radius, a crown or halo could not exist. But, if amplitude and frequency were what differentiated a witch or wizard's crown and therefore magic, could ghosts not perform magic?
Draco poked him in the shoulder.
"Er, Harry, your eyes are glowing. Just thought I ought to let you know."
Harry closed his eyes, turning off his Magic Sight.
"Mmm, thanks for telling me," he replied.
"What, you're not even going to explain yourself?" Draco said, his palms facing up in expectation.
"Nope," Harry said, popping the 'p'.
The rest of the class period continued in mind-numbing boredom, and they were all quite relieved to be done with it. Out of the three of them, only Daphne had actually taken notes.
After a quick lunch, they headed off to Charms, once again sitting together in the front of the class.
Professor Flitwick was an extremely short man and according to Draco, was a former dueling champion and half-goblin.
After a brief introduction to the subject and roll call (during which Flitwick fell over in excitement upon reaching Harry's name), they were given feathers to levitate with the levitation charm.
The incantation was wingardium leviosa, and was to be accompanied by a swish and flick wand movement. The object, once under the charm, would float stationary in the air.
Harry, having learned his lesson from transfiguration, tried not to think too hard about the mechanics of what was going on and just let his wand do the work.
It took him a couple tries with varying 'swish and flick' techniques followed by different pronunciations of the incantation, but eventually, he got his feather to float.
Once again, Daphne was the first of the three, and first in the class, to get it down. Flitwick gleefully directed the class' attention to her floating feather, awarding Slytherin another 5 points.
He pondered the mechanism of action. His floating feather remained at the same level without him having to maintain it. He also could not actively move the feather up or down either. This phenomenon strongly reminded him of Professor McGonagall's explanation of actively managed transfiguration versus the simplistic magical dump transfiguration the first years were taught.
"Quite the prodigy we have on our hands, don't we Harry?" Draco muttered darkly. Daphne smiled at him angelically and Harry asked her, "Have you practiced magic before at home? You're awfully good at this."
Daphne nodded. "A lot of students from magical families are able to practice with their wands before their first year because the ministry only actually knows where magic is being performed, not who is performing the magic. It is a bit of an unfair advantage, but it would be foolish to squander the opportunity," she said.
"And I've only really been practicing spells used in Defense or dueling. Hey Greengrass, Harry and I are going to join the Dueling club. What say you?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"I've never dueled before, but it wouldn't hurt to learn some spells. I'll come along. When is the first meeting?"
"My sister said it's on Thursdays at 4 PM in the classroom down the hall from this one. Flitwick's actually the club's staff advisor. It'll be brilliant!" Draco said, grinning.
Charms soon ended and they headed off to the greenhouses on the castle grounds for Herbology. It was a bit of a walk, but much easier to find.
Herbology was taught by a squat, rosy-faced witch who introduced herself as Professor Sprout and the head of Hufflepuff House. Most of the class was spent practicing potting plants and identifying various species of magical plants. Draco complained the whole time about the dirt and grime, and he could see Daphne felt the same even if she didn't voice it. Harry, a master of dealing with plants from all the garden work he had done for Aunt Petunia, greatly enjoyed the hands-on work.
After Herbology and a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up, the trio made their way back to the familiar dungeons for Potions. Draco spent the whole trip talking about Professor Snape.
"I didn't know this about Uncle Severus until this summer, but apparently, he's a genius. One of the youngest potions masters of the century, and his research always gets published in Modern Potions, the most prestigious potions journal around. He also really favors the Slytherin students, so this is our chance to rack up some house points. Ooh, I'm so excited to see the Gryffindors squirm during class with him."
They arrived in the dark Potions classroom a few minutes early and watched as the other students filtered in. He saw the red headed first year, flanked by a timid looking boy with chubby cheeks and a girl with a huge head of curly, brown hair. They two boys seemed to be trying very hard not to look in his direction.
A few minutes later, Professor Snape emerged from his office and marched to the front of the classroom. His dark scowl silenced the murmuring of the students and he began roll call. Each name was spoken with a soft drawl, and upon reaching Harry's name, the drawl grew even more pronounced.
Finally, once everyone was accounted for, Professor Snape began his introduction of the class.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."
The class was completely silent, staring up at the hooked nose man. Harry thought the speech a little dramatic.
As if hearing this insubordinate thought, the professor's gaze snapped in his direction.
"Mr. Potter. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry flew through his memories of "1001 Magical Herbs and Fungi" he read over the summer. Asphodel, a flower named after one of the layers of the Greek underworld, was known for its soporific properties. Wormwood in and of itself had no particular function, but it was a powerful amplifier when used in potions.
"Perhaps a powerful sleeping potion, professor?"
Snape's lips had gone as thin as Professor McGonagall's.
"Correct."
He turned his wrath to another student, this time the Gryffindor redhead.
"Weasley! Where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"
The boy's eyes widened, and Harry could see his upper body stiffen. The girl to his left raised her hand, which Snape promptly ignored.
Sensing that no one would be coming to his rescue, the boy stammered out, "I-I don't know, sir."
Professor Snape sneered. "Didn't think to crack open a textbook before coming to class, did you? One point from Gryffindor for poor preparation. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most poisons."
"Longbottom! Tell me, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
The chubby boy to the right of Weasley froze, but quickly regained his composure.
"Th-They're the s-same plant sir," he managed.
Snape looked like he had swallowed a lemon. He didn't even bother to confirm Longbottom's answer, instead rounding on the class.
"Well, why aren't you all copying this down?"
There was a great scrambling for quills, ink, and paper as the real lesson began. Snape began rattling off the syllabus for the class, followed by how the magical properties of certain plants contributed to the function of a potion. It would've been quite a boring lesson if Snape didn't randomly call on a student every few minutes to answer a related question. He also frequently called on Malfoy, who got every single one right.
By the end of the class, the Gryffindors were a nervous wreck, and Malfoy left the classroom gleefully recounting the many instances of Gryffindor discomfort.
"Remember when Weasley got asked that question about the bezoar and that girl sitting next him looked like she was dying to answer? I thought it was so funny when Professor Snape completely ignored her. Serves the little teacher's pet right."
Harry only nodded along absently, not really listening to the conversation. Even though Professor Snape was his head of house, Harry was beginning to really dislike him. Not only was the man a bully, but he also seemed to irrationally hate him. Was it his celebrity status that irked him?
They arrived at their final class of the day: Defense Against the Dark Arts. The classroom was dark and dingy, with all the windows closed and strings of garlic hanging from the ceiling. Professor Quirrell sat at his desk, slumped forward in his chair.
Harry, Draco, and Daphne were the first students to arrive and for the first time, sat in the back row of seats. Daphne nudged Harry.
"What's wrong with him? He looks asleep… or dead."
Draco shuddered. "This gives me the creeps. Also, what's with the garlic?"
More students began filing in, noticing the garlicky odor and motionless body of their professor at the front of the class.
The unease grew and whispers broke out. The assigned class time eventually arrived, and Professor Quirrell's slumped body rose like a stiff puppet. Someone screamed.
He jerked his way to the central dais of the classroom. No one made a sound.
He spoke, his voice like smooth ice.
"Good afternoon class. Today, we will embark on a journey that you will continue for the rest of your lives. The practice of defense against the most evil of magics… the dark arts. One day, when you find yourself facing a dark witch, wizard, or creature, these lessons may very well save your life. So, I suggest you pay the utmost attention, and give your fullest effort in every class. I will not tolerate less than your full potential. Anyone caught fooling around will be severely punished. Am I made clear?"
Silent nods followed.
"The first year curriculum contains both the practical and the theoretical. Every Monday, including today, we will be working on spellwork. On Wednesdays and Fridays, we will be covering the theory of defensive magic and dark creatures. So…" said Professor Quirrell, raising his wand aloft, sweeping the desks to the side of the class, "let's get started, shall we?"
A hum of excitement ran through the class, and Harry raised an eyebrow. Where had that burst of liveliness come from? Just a few moments ago, the professor had looked like a fresh corpse. Now that he was closer to the professor, he also wanted to confirm the double crown sighting from yesterday's opening feast.
He activated his Magic Sight, and the classroom filled with a rainbow of glowing crowns. Once again, Professor Quirrell had two crowns, one purple and one red. Now that he was closer, he could make out the characteristics of each one. The upper, purple one wasn't particularly interesting. It had a decently sized radius and an average frequency and amplitude. On the other hand, the blood red one below… he had never seen anything like it; it looked more like a ring of thorns than a crown. It had the same radius as the purple one above it, but almost no amplitude. Furthermore, the peaks (though they were so small, the word 'peaks' was hardly a proper description) were incredibly close to one another, reminiscent of Dumbledore's crown. Wait, hadn't the red crown been above the purple crown during the feast?
Professor Quirrell caught his stare, and they once again made eye contact. Harry quickly averted his gaze, but not before noticing the crimson tint of the man's irises; the exact same tint as the blood red crown.
He shut off his Magic Sight as the man began speaking.
"Take out your wands. Today, we will be practicing one of the most basic forms of the shield charm; protego motica. Its original and greater form, protego, will deflect most offensive spells, but requires quite a bit of magical power. You will be learning it in your sixth year. This version of the shield charm will defend against a few minor jinxes and hexes if sufficiently powered. Frankly, it is quite impractical to use, but it serves as a good training exercise for learning to cast in the face of spellfire. Such spellfire will be provided by your partner, who will be casting a sparking charm with the incantation scintum. It will readily bounce off protego motica, but will slightly sting if it lands. Neither of these spells require wand movements. Now, pair off."
Harry felt Draco's hand on his shoulder and they turned to face each other. He shot an apologetic look at Daphne, who huffed and paired up with Pansy Parkinson, the rude girl who had asked about his scar during yesterday's feast.
"Do you want to defend or attack Harry?" said Draco, hopping excitedly from one foot to another.
"I can defend. But first, let's make sure we can actually cast our respective spells."
The two boys spent a few seconds figuring out their spells. Once Draco was sufficiently pleased with the brightness of his sparking charm and Harry had properly formed a translucent, blue rectangular shield, they once again turned toward each other.
Harry set up his blue shield with a spoken "Protego motica!"
"Feel free to start casting, Draco."
Draco grinned.
"It would be my pleasure."
Scintum! Scintum! Scintum! Scintum!
The thin, yellow streaks raced toward his shield and splattered, fizzling in a shower of sparks.
Harry held his hand out, feeling the shield. The construct was rather simplistic and reminded him of the transfiguration he had performed in McGonagall's class. It was a reservoir of his magic given instruction: form and maintain a shield with this particular structure. Once the magic ran out, whether via sufficient time or sufficient damage, it would fade. For this shield, he had used his wand, so he could not end the construct by calling back his magic. He wanted to try and actively manage the magic in the spell, similar to the manner that McGonagall described actively managing transfigurations.
Eventually, after several more scintums from Draco, the shield collapsed and Harry raised a hand.
"Draco, would you mind being on the offense one more time? I want to try something."
He once again said, "Protego motica!" while pointing his wand in Draco's direction. This time, he continually siphoned magic to his wand for it to maintain a connection with the shield. He kept his wand pointed at the blue rectangle, feeling the weak, almost unnoticeable pull on his magic.
"Okay Draco, go ahead now."
Once again, a barrage of sparks flew at his shield and this time, every contact pulled a little more on his magical energy.
Harry's shield held up perfectly under over three minutes of Draco's continuous spellfire. The boy was breathing heavily, his hair caked with sweat. Harry could feel the fatigue as well, but he wasn't nearly as exhausted. He supposed it took less magical energy to deflect a spell than to actually cast it.
"Most impressive Mr. Potter. Active magical management of spells is normally reserved for third year students. Take 5 points for Slytherin."
Harry turned around. Professor Quirrell was looking down at his shield, a pleasant look on his face that looked completely out of place with his red eyes.
"Why don't we test your mastery of the concept? Draco! You won't mind if I borrow your partner for a bit, do you?"
Not waiting for an answer, Professor Quirrell took Draco's place across from Harry.
"Prepare yourself, boy."
A few nearby students noticed the spectacle and had stopped practicing, opting instead to watch.
Quirrell's scintum spell, fired from his outstretched index finger instead of his wand, looked more like a bolt of lightning than a handful of sparks. Harry could feel the electricity in the air as his hair stood on end. The spell smashed into his shield, almost staggering him. The drain on his magic to prevent it from immediately collapsing was enormous.
Quirrell quirked an eyebrow.
"Very well. Let's see how far you can go."
By now, the entire class had turned to watch as the professor bore down on Harry. This time, the professor unleashed a storm of bolts at his shield in quick succession. Harry was able to defend against the first three, but he could not replenish the magic sustaining the shield quickly enough, and the fourth was enough to shatter it. A fifth lightning bolt, right behind the fourth, streaked toward his exposed body. Harry's eyes widened, but just as it came within a meter of him, it winked out of existence.
"Like calling back a curse after casting it," he recalled from his conversation with Professor McGonagall, smiling wryly.
"Let's give a round of applause for Mr. Potter here, who has done exceptional work with an unexceptional shield charm. Take another five points for Slytherin."
The Slytherin half of the class burst into cheers and the Gryffindor half clapped politely. The chubby cheeked boy from Potions was looking on in awe while the redhead scowled.
By the time dinner rolled around, half the school had heard about how Harry Potter heroically faced down Professor Quirrell with a glowing blue shield stronger than anything a first year student should be able to cast. The stares that already followed him only grew more numerous and more curious.
Harry was glad to finally return to the common room at the end of the day. The eyes that followed him everywhere were beginning to irk him. Otherwise, his first day of classes had been incredible. He had more thoroughly formulated his theory of spellcasting with reservoir dumping (releasing a fixed amount of magic with one directive) vs. active management (sustaining a single-directive spell with conscious amounts of magic) vs. consciously wandless magic (imbuing magic with his own will and controlling it like an extension of himself). Furthermore, he had a new friend: Daphne Greengrass. She was a bit icy at times, but had a quick wit, a dry sense of humor, and was very talented. Finally, he had discovered a little bit more about the mysterious Professor Quirrell who turned out to be quite the engaging teacher.
He turned in for the night after a half-hearted start on some of his homework, falling into a deep, dream-filled sleep.