Updated 2/6/22
Thank you Aetris1 for catching the wrong chapter. That'll teach me to update things at 4am. Here is the right chapter.
Since the talk with McGonagall went well enough, Harry decided he should try and find Flitwick. His mother apparently loved charms and was really good at them. Harry hadn't really found any class of magic too difficult, aside from Potions. Potions, he knew was mostly because of Snape.
When Professor Flitwick isn't in his office, nor his classroom, Harry resorts to the marauders map. After searching the hallways for fifteen minutes and finding way too many people crammed in broom closets, Harry finds the professor. He triple checks to make sure, and feels his opinion of the man slide when he is correct that the professor's name is found in a girl's lavatory on the sixth floor.
As he walks through the halls, Harry is reminded that to anyone else looking at the map, Harry has been in some questionable places as well. Moaning Myrtles last year, the restricted section, the three of them in the third-floor corridor- Harry had no room to judge based on location.
Using a nifty spell Harry picked up from a group of fifth year Ravenclaws, "Point Me", harry follows his wand point to the correct place. Once he's outside of the room, Harry checks the map one last time to make sure Flitwick is alone. Confirming he is, Harry folds the map up and opens the door.
Inside, Harry is blown away by the chaos. The toilets and sinks are in full revolt, spewing water and porcelain at the professor. The doors and wall are fighting him too, flying around and wrapping themselves around him or slamming together to try and sandwich him. The tiles are shredding through the air like a flock of razor birds, aiming to main. Flitwick is in full display of his prowess, whirling around with wand and a flashing blade, casting and cutting through the forces arrayed against him with ease. The wand is doing no more or less work than the blade, pulling and pushing and freezing and flicking all sorts of tricks at the horde of demonic furnishings. Moments after Harry enters, Flitwick changes pace and shreds the remaining room in quick succession, lashing the doors down and freezing the tiles. The walls are forced back into shape with a twist and flick, while the rest of the furnishings are simply twisted apart.
"Hmm, a tie this year, since we were interrupted." Flitwick muses as he drifts down to the floor, canceling his spell once he is but inches off the ground. "Hello Mr. Potter."
"Wow, Professor that was-" Harry is lost for words.
"Simply a challenge my sixth-year students and I have every year. Need to keep them sharp between their NEWTs and OWLs. What brings you here?" The charms professor is slightly winded but beams with happiness and delight.
"Looking for you Professor. I- I know I haven't been the greatest of students the past few years." Harry admits.
"You have been letting your natural ability carry you, rather than trying to master the spells." Flitwick agrees.
"Yes, Professor. I talked with Professor McGonagall, asked her about my parents. She told me Mom adored charms." It isn't a question, but Flitwick can her the plea in it all the same.
"Lily did love charms. She once claimed they could do anything a wizard needed, and proceeded to try and back that claim up. She was doing quite well to prove her claim until McGonagall and Dumbledore stepped in. Some things, charms just can't quite pull off. Though, she was ingenious to go as far as she did." Flitwick says.
"Looking back, I was shocked she wasn't one of mine. Lily had such a mind, such a desire to know, to break down and solve and understand- I guess her gumption to challenge the established overrode her desire to learn. She was perhaps the most studious Lion until your friend, Ms. Granger." Flitwick frowns, "Though Lily wasn't as tied to the library as Ms. Granger is. Some of the things she cites in her essays, they seem to match the material but were she to spend a bit more time with the spell and not the theory."
"Maybe I can explain it. Do you remember an example?" Harry asks.
"I'm not supposed to- Oh, what does it matter. It's the end of term and the exams are over. Take the modifier terms you learned this year. It was taught using Lumos as the base, with either maxima or minima prefacing the spell. If anyone tried the modifier with another spell, as many do, you quickly figure out that these modifiers work on most charms, admittedly with more of a draw. Ms. Granger turned in her essay very similar to how it was her first year when you first learned the light charm. It wasn't until later in the year that she realized the assignment was not on the light charms, but modifying spells. Her essay was thorough, but missed the evolution to how you should be approaching magic."
"Your mother's essay on the same topic, was rather poorly constructed, but much more provoking. It was full of questions about modifiers and the power draws, showing she was attentive in Arithmancy as well. Lily questioned why some charms worked with the modifiers and some did not. She also wondered why those specific modifiers were used as opposed to other terms that could be used as focuses, such as magnum. If you were curious, she submitted the exact same paper two years later in defense, with all of her questions answered and explained." Flitwick says.
"So, Hermione needs to spend more time using magic rather than reading about it?" Harry asks.
Flitwick frowns, "Not exactly. Its more that she needs to think about the spells and things we are teaching for herself. For the first few years of Hogwarts, getting out of class and running for the library isn't a bad choice since the spells are simple enough. But as you advance in years, we expect you to think about the more than simply casting the spell correctly. Things like application and evolution take precedence. You still need to be able to cast a spell and correctly know it's history, but so too should you think about why that spell would be used or created, and how it could be used. A more thorough approach, grounded in living a magical world than witnessing one. Your father, James, in his sixth year, turned in an essay on the evolution of the light spell, and how the intent and desire of the wizard casting it changes the spell itself. He posited that the spell 'Lumos' is less of a spell creating light and more of a focusing tactic for instructing your magic as to what you want it to do. James was exceptional at non-verbal spells and point casting- both advanced techniques for obfuscating the spells one is casting. He spent a lot of time practicing, as he wanted to be an Auror."
"Lily struggled with quieting her spells and removing steps in her casting, but could interweave more into her charms than anyone I've ever met. She would add in more movements and words to further direct her spells and magic to produce amazing effects. She once used an augumenti to carve a toy dragon out of wood. It took her two straight minutes of moving her wand and mumbling to herself, but the results spoke for themselves." Flitwick says proudly.
"It sounds like she did a lot of studying and experimenting." Harry says.
"Both of your parents spent a lot of time in the library checking on ideas or casting and working with their magic."
"If I want to live up to their legacy, it sounds like I have a long road ahead of me." Harry says.
"Yes and no, Mr. Potter." Flitwick says, absently waving his wand and setting everything to rights in the bathroom. At Harry's boggled look he chuckles, "I am a charms master."
"You've inherited a lot from your parents, including some of Lily's ease with charms. If you simple do the required and some of the optional readings, I'm sure you can live up to your father. I'll be honesty Mr. Potter, I'm not sure if anyone could live up to Lily Evan's legacy. Your mother was a prodigy, once in a century talent. Did you know she dueled He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? She was out shopping during an attack. She forced back the squad of Death Eaters, and then when he showed up took him on as well. I am told it was a brutal fight, but your mother held him off singlehandedly. She couldn't defeat him or drive him back, but hold him from advancing- yes."
"Mr. Potter, Harry, I've been hearing that you're trying to do better, trying to live a life that would make your parents proud. Wanting to uphold their legacy is admirable, but in some cases that may not be possible, and that is alright. I want to make sure you know that it's okay if you can't live up to their memories. They would be proud of you for trying, and Lily would be so floored to watch you do your best. When she was graduating, I made her an offer to train her mastery under me. Your mother was so innovative and good that I was going to come out of retirement to guide her. Sadly, we ran out of time, but I need you to understand, Harry, that it is not always possible to overcome our parent's achievements, or even match them. So long as you do your best, I'm sure that will be enough."
"You don't think I can do it?" Harry asks after a moment, blinking quickly over red cheeks.
"I don't know." Flitwick says honestly, "I haven't seen you perform at your best, but even if you are every inch of the charms prodigy she was, you're two years behind. I would hate to see you set an unreasonable goal is all. Everyone is capable of exceptional things, but in the limits, we set ourselves some things simply aren't possible."
When Harry still looks discouraged, Flitwick sighs.
"I don't mean to be harsh and rain on your parade. It's just facts- no matter how hard someone works; some things can't be done. Mr. Malfoy could devote every day to the study of alchemy, but even by the time he graduates, he still would be far behind the headmaster. There just isn't enough time. Not to say that he couldn't one day overcome Headmaster Dumbledore, anything is possible. But it would require a lot of work and more time than he has available before graduation. You can overcome your parent's legacies and live up to their reputations, be just as good if not better than them- but it might take you more than just the years you have left here." Flitwick says.
"Tell you what, if you are the same caliber charms master that your mother was, or even are on track to reach her level by the time you graduate, I will reach out to some contacts and try and get you the same offer I gave her. But you will have to show that you are just as good or going to be on that level soon before I do anything. If you truly want to reach that level, then I'd suggest you do a lot of review over this summer to prepare. The required reading and the optional. Bonus points if you dive into anything that interests you as well. Such as perhaps what you were asking the Weasley twins about. Broomcrafting is not a journeyman endeavor. But I'm sure, with the right determination, you can climb to the level of charms master that it requires."
With the parting comment, Flitwick swirls his wand and levitates himself. Cackling maniacally, he speeds down the hall, leaving Harry to watch the dust flying.
"I've got to learn how to do that." Harry promises himself.
Having crossed every teacher off his list, Harry has little else to do before the train departs. He has to pack his things, but that's hardly going to take the rest of the afternoon. Harry had gotten up so late that he skipped lunch entirely, just not hungry. Still, packing does give him something to do.
Up in the dorms, he finds himself the only one in the room. The room is, well, it's a mess. Neville is a neat enough fellow, and Harry has long learned not to spread his things out. Not that he has a lot of things to leave lying around anyway. Seamus and Dean were a bit of a mess, but Ron was by and far the worst. Between the three of them, stuff was everywhere. It was a stroke of luck that Harry had learned to tag his own things with a mild identification spell.
It was a two-stage cast, an advanced arithmantic concept, but the example he had was simple. First you apply a potion, then a spell to seal it in. Fred and George had taught him about it during one of the Hogsmeade trips they gave up to stay with him. The potion wasn't too difficult, and could be brewed in under an hour. It had to cool for a week, but Hagrid had no problems sticking something in the snow next to his hut for a week without questioning what it was or why Harry needed it. Dreadfully naïve, but dead useful, that one. So, once the potion was done, Harry only had to drop some on each of his items. The dull grey liquid hissed as it dropped down, but sank into the item without damaging it. Then, if you cast a modified Lumos, it glowed. The best part was that the potion was customizable by the number and direction of stirs. Clockwise made it lighter, counter made it darker. While brewing, it was the same color it would glow as.
Harry cast the spell and things lit up all around him. He dumped his trunk on his bedsheets and started repacking it. Cleaning out the broken quills and bits or parchment didn't seem to change a lot, but it sure looked better. Since classes were over, Harry stacked his books and cauldron in first, followed by the other things he'd collected. Hedwig's cage, his photo album. Once all of the hallmarks of the institution were packed away, Harry started chucking things in after applying a cushioning charm. It was mostly unnecessary- his clothes for instance weren't going to hurt anything. As he reached for the next thing, his fingers brushed one of his many snitches, which sprang to life and hovered above him dancing.
Each snitch was carefully made so that it would bond with whomever caught it first. After every match, Harry was able to keep the snitch he caught, as it would always return to him. By now, he must have had ten or twelve. Harry, in a fit of fancy, activated all of them. He finished all of the loose clothes, piling all of the spare things that weren't his on one of the spare beds, a whole galaxy of snitches orbiting around his head the whole time.
He wandered around the room with his wand glowing, searching for any wayward possessions. He found a pair of mismatched socks behind one of the beds, a rough draft of an essay he wrote last year on teacup transfiguration, and strangely enough, one of George's shirts. Very curious. He left he shirt with Ron's things, knowing that it would find its way home. Mrs. Weasley after all had been the one to first use that potion to tell the twins apart, before their pranks wore it off. They then found it themselves, and pranked her by switching constantly.
As he was turning to leave, he saw a light shining from deep in Ron's trunk. He looked for anyone watching before reaching into the half-closed trunk. Down at the bottom, he felt a few papers and other things. They were all in a box. He tugged it out, shaking it off when he saw what it was. It was Scabbers old cage. Down in the bottom was one of his essays, that Ron must have collected for bedding for the rat. Also in there, though he wasn't sure it was on purpose, was one of his missing socks. He pulled both things out. The essay had his name chewed off of it, very deliberately. It didn't worry him at the moment. The sock he binned. There was no need to keep it, as the rat had chewed clean through it. That or Dudley had worn it through before Harry even got it. That was the one positive Harry had- there was no shortage of clothes. Dudley grew and wore through his clothes fast enough that there was always a couple more shirts for Harry and a bin full of socks every few months.
He held up the two mismatched socks for a moment, seeing if they were close enough that he could pass them off as a pair. They weren't. Even if he had been good enough with a color changing charm, the cut was different. He almost dropped them in the bin as well, but remembered someone who liked socks.
"Um, Dobby?" He called softly.
"Yes, the great Mr. Potter? Can Dobby get you anything?" the elf cried, popping into the room instantaneously.
"Yes. I want you to have these socks." Harry said solemnly. "I understand that I will not see you on the day that you were freed last year, since the calendar is different this year. As such, I would like you to have these as a gift in my stead. Please accept them as a humble apology for my absence."
"Dobby would be honored to take these. He will visit the great Harry Potter on that day, for it was the Great Harry Potter who freed Dobby! What shall Dobby bring?" the elf replied.
"Er," Harry stalled. He hadn't thought this far out. " Lunch. I think a lunch would be an appropriate way to celebrate your freedom. Bring what you want to eat, and I will make it for you."
"Dobby will bring the ingredients. Together, Dobby and The Great Harry Potter, Sir will make this lunch."
"Right. Enjoy the socks." Harry said as Dobby faded away. "I'm so bored." He groaned, flopping onto his bed. (and not noticing that all of the paper bits and pencil shavings had vanished with the house elf). Harry wracked his brains for anything he still had left here. He had his cloak and the photo album, and the map, Hedwig would fly herself, his broom! He still had to collect his Firebolt from the Gryffindor changing rooms. He looked at the window at the clear summer day outside, perfect for flying. He grinned and dashed for the portrait. He was going flying!
Outside, the weather was a touch warm for running. It wasn't bad, not too sweltering, but he was sweating by the time he reached the Gryffindor locker rooms. He quickly ducked in, casting a cooling charm as he passed through the doors. He unlocked his locker, eyeing the hanging jersey and gear. He had left it here the past two years, since it wasn't like anyone would take it. No one else had access to it. He decided the trend would continue, and pulled out only his broom.
Before he walked back outside, he laid it out on the bench and preened it. He had been in such a rush during these last few games that he had forgotten to do the proper maintenance. He straightened the twigs, waxed the handle, and tightened the grip. He spit polished the gold label and ran a diagnostic charm he had learned from one of his quidditch books. The charm came back positive, which was a relief. The charms on each broomstick were rated for twenty years moderate, seven years heavy play. Since it was only months old, it should have plenty of time left before they started to fray. Still, there was no hard data on dementor exposure, and they tended to have an entropic reaction on most enchantments. Plus, he had read in quidditch quarterly that the Aurors of Azkaban swore that the brooms didn't last as long as they should. 'Better to be safe than sorry', he rationalized.
Finally, Harry took his broom out, all the maintenance done. He mounted up and took off, warming up by taking a slow lap around the edge of the lake. People waved at him from below, and he waved back. The last few days, no one wanted to pick a fight and risk starting off the new year with a detention. Everyone was ready to go home and relax. He quickly became bored flying slow and threw himself into higher speed with a whoop. He started throwing in loops and dives, swirling around above the lake. He may have been showing off, but who were they to judge? He was a teenage boy; it was in his blood. He dipped down to mere inches above the lake, dragging a shoe in the calm water. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Tension from the nights before and from all year faded off of him. When he was flying here, there were no worries, no problems. He could take on the world, do anything.
A gentle tug came on his trailing ankle, and his eyes shot open. He was nearing the shore. Looking down, he saw a tentacle winding below him retreating to the deep. The Great Squid had an excellent relationship with most of the students. Some, namely Malfoy, didn't get along with it, but most got along fine. Hagrid feeds it sometimes, and in return it helps the first years with crossing the lake, and looks after the students with one of its many eyes. It had the tentative nickname Argus, after the Greek hero of the same name, since it was always watching out for the students.
Harry thanked it for wakening him, and peeled off back to the castle. Flying alone was relaxing, but not too entertaining. It was much more fun with friends. He neared the castle and slowed, not quite stopping. The doors were open; he could just fly right in. He decided to go for it, remembering Flitwick, and cruised in going a little slower than walking speed. It was like a muggle car idling in gear. The halls were very empty, and everyone gave him a wide berth. A few prefects looked unhappy, but didn't say anything. It wasn't hurting anyone, so while they disapproved, they didn't stop it.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" The smile slides from his face as he pales. His magic calls his broom to a halt in midair, freezing in place. "You've been out of the infirmary for magical exhaustion and trauma, for less than 12 hours, and now you're flying through the school?"
"Fine then." She takes a breath, "I'm sorry I called her that. Of all people, I should know what things like that are like." She looks back up and her eyes flash at him. "Still, you've still been cavorting about and acting like an idiot. Come down from there. I bet you're not even packed yet…" Hermione says, whirling back from the banister and towards the tower. Harry lands and catches up to her before she makes it to the portrait.
"Flying in the castle might have been pushing it. But, just so you know, I am packed. Just my broom and bed things to pack tomorrow morning." Harry lets the silence rest while they walk. Hermione breaks it right before the Fat Lady.
"I just don't want to see you hurt. Not so soon after this past time. It happens every year, Harry. Every year. I keep hoping it won't, but it does. And you keep jumping back into it! I had hoped, after first year, you were done. I guess last year you had no real choice, but Harry! You've got to stop nearly dying. Promise me that you'll stay safe next year? Promise me." She demands, her anger changing to worry.
"I promise Hermione, that I won't go looking for trouble. I can't promise that I'll be safe, since with my luck, I'm destined to hunt down a clan of vampires and their sire is just now finding out who I am and where I go to school. They'll all be here next year, wanting to turn me or kill me." Harry jokes.
"Oh, alright. Just stop acting like it's you against the world." She nudges his arm, "you've got friends who care. Don't forget about us."
Harry shoots her a smile and she turns to open the portrait but looks back. "If you want my runes book to borrow over the summer..."
"Yes! I'd love to look it over. Thank you!" Harry says.
"Give me half an hour to pack up the last of my things and I'll bring it to the common room." Hermione says.
"I'm just going to pack my broom away and then I'll be down."
Harry ran and did just that, but stopped before heading back down the stairs, eyeing the mess that the Gryffindor boys third year dorm was. Neither Seamus, nor Dean had started packing up, and Ron's possessions were still scattered, though he would be going home tonight, rather than on the train. Mrs. Weasley wanted him home due to his leg, so a house elf should be collecting his things before too long. Harry, pretty sure Hermione didn't need to see anyone's underwear, but not particularly wanting to deal with it himself, sat on the edge of his bed and started identifying whose things where whose.
Those socks were Seamus' and that hat was Dean's. That's probably Ron's shoes, given the patches. That has to be Dean's sneaker, he's the only one with muggle footwear besides me in the dorm.
Harry, used to cleaning up after people, but also not wanting to invade on their space, was caught in a dilemma. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. The banishing charm! He scrambled to find the charm in his textbook and quickly read through the instructions. It didn't look too hard.
"Depulso." Harry said, flicking his wand at a sock. Nothing happened.
"Depulso!" He cried again. This time the sock rocked.
Harry took a few breaths and squared his shoulders. "Depulso." He said, calmly, watching the sock fly over to Dean's bed in his mind. To his slight shock, the sock did just that, rolling like he had kicked it over to the bedpost. He smiled and found the sock's mate. "Depulso."
Hermione finishes her packing and went back to the common room. She fully expected Harry to be sitting on one of the couches, looking bored, but he was nowhere to be found.
"You looking for Potter?" Katie called out, seeing Hermione looking around. "He's up in his dorm."
"Just be careful- he is a teenage boy." Angelina follows.
"What's that supposed to mean?' Hermione asks.
"You can't not kn-" Katie starts to say
"She can find out for herself." Angelina interrupts, poking her wand at the gobstones board.
"Ange!" Katie shrieked, covered in the squirt. "No fair, I was distracted!"
"Serves you right." Angelina says, poking her tongue out.
Hermione understood that she was no longer party to their game and headed up the staircase. Taking Angelia's words to heart, she knocked on the door to the Third Year Boys dorm.
"Harry?" she asked, poking her head in. Her jaw nearly dropped at the sight, and it took her a moment to figure out what exactly was happening. Harry was sitting on her bed, waving his wand around, conducting nearly every piece of discarded mess to fly somewhere.
"Hey Hermione." He called out, sending a stream of candy wrappers to the rubbish bin.
"Harry! What are you- this is amazing!" Hermione exclaimed, ducking under a shirt whizzing towards Ron's bed. "How are you doing this?" She asks, settling down next to Harry on his bed.
"I was bored, so I started practicing the banishing charm-"
"That's a fourth-year charm!" Hermione interjects.
"-and it was good, but I wondered if I could do better by combining it with the old wingar levio, and here we are." With a few final flicks, Harry sends the last of the clutter to its respective owners and lets the magic fall from the air.
"Harry, this is incredible! Combining active charms is no easy feat! What gave you the idea that this was even possible?"
"Earlier, I saw professor Flitwick doing something similar to this. So, I knew it was possible. After that, it was just figuring out how." He explains.
"This is why you're a better wizard than me, because you ask your magic to do something, and it just does. It finds a way. Me, I have to give it step by step instructions. Like a program, and if I can't fill every step, it doesn't work."
"I don't know, Hermione. I guess we're just wired differently? Does everyone have a different feel to their magic? Or are there groups or types?" Harry muses.
Hermione gives him a sideways look before smacking his arm. "I don't know who you are but give me my Harry back, and take this Ravenclaw away from me." She teases.
Harry laughs and sets his wand down, "Fine, fine. You have the book?"
"Right here." Hermione says, passing it over.
"Thanks. I'll take good care of it, I promise. And if my relatives confiscate it, I'll buy you a new one."