Chapter Thirteen
Latin, or Something Like It
Ron and Hermione watched her nervously, through dinner, on the last night of term, after overhearing a number of professors and Minister Fudge, in the Three Broomsticks. But only when they retired back to the common room did Harry erupt.
"He's got no fucking clue what he's saying," Harry said, venomously. She'd only just managed to calm down.
"We know," Ron said. He really did - he trusted Harry and Sirius' version far more.
"He didn't even know that - Sirius would never betray them. He loved them," she explained. Her hands were trembling wildly. She couldn't help that, at all. She shoved them in her pockets. "And all that crap about his - his motivations," she spat, like it was something rancid. "He's clearly just talking shit."
"It's okay, Harry," Hermione said. "I think Fudge just, well, he's just trying to deal with it all." Again, with this stupid authority crap. Couldn't Hermione just let it go?
"He's just trying to cover his ass, Hermione. Everyone just feels like they have the right to my business. Because it's the Girl-Who-Lived, everyone just gets to say whatever they want, like my business is everyone's business!"
"He is the Minister." Hermione's tone was mild, but Harry didn't care.
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Harry asked, venomously.
"Well, no, but it might mean-"
"It just means it's his fucking fault that Sirius had to break out to protect me anyway," Harry said. "Him and Dumbledore. I'm going to bed. Fucking Fudge needs to keep his mouth shut."
The holidays came, and went. The castle was mostly empty, although both Hermione and Ron stayed, for the break.
Harry almost wished they hadn't. She'd been wrapped up in her own stuff, dealing with Cecilia, but Hermione and Ron were… not getting on, very well. Ron's rat, Des, was unhappy with the cat, Crookshanks.
And, well, Harry wasn't sure how to mediate that argument. Not that she really thought it should be mediated. Crookshanks was a little bit too interested in Des, and, well, he had been there first.
Hermione was a little bit callous about that sort of thing. And Ron was holding a bit of a grudge over it.
Harry didn't really want to be in the middle - so she spent time with Cecilia.
Christmas morning, the attitude in the dorms hadn't cooled. Harry felt, a little bit unkindly, that it might have been better if her friends had gone home for the holidays. They did have homes to go back to, after all.
And when Harry got a Firebolt - obvious, to her, that it was from Sirius - that seemed to be the icing on the cake.
It wasn't so much that it was a big argument - it was the initial impression. Harry and Sirius had talked about a Firebolt. Hermione hadn't been there for that conversation. Ron hadn't, either, but he was too distracted by the quality of the broom to consider it. Or he was just more trusting of Harry's lack of worry.
But she could see every thought of Hermione's - the girl thought so loud, sometimes. And all of them were about how irresponsible Harry was, and how foolish, and how little she trusted Sirius.
And Harry didn't necessarily react well. It was hard to keep her anger under control, in the common room.
"It's from Sirius. I'd trust him with my life."
"But Harry, you don't know him. You only know him from this summer! And you don't know it's from him! You think you do based on a conversation this summer, but that's it!"
Harry snarled, "Oh? So he didn't get me anything? He just forgot, did he?"
"But you don't know! And you could really get hurt on a broom like that!"
"Hermione," Harry warned, carefully, hands clenched and shaking despite them. She was very seriously fed up with Hermione's shit, sometimes. "Please don't test me on this."
Crookshanks hopped forward, and jumped at Ron's pocket.
"No! You dumb cat!"
Harry dove for Crookshanks, trying to save poor Des, but the cat was too quick. Hermione shrieked, and Ron yelled, and then there was a scuffle.
Crookshanks landed on Ron's chest, but Ron smacked him, and he gave a yowl, and darted off.
"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said. "You can't be serious. Des needs some time away from that horrid cat."
"He's a cat," Hermione replied, primly. "Cats hunt rats, Ron."
"Hermione, would it kill you to be sensitive for just five minutes?"
Hermione just snarled. Harry didn't want to look in her mind, for once. Best not to know, honestly.
Harry stretched out on the couch, relaxing. After the brutal dueling practice that Cecilia had just put her through, she needed the rest. Her whole body hurt.
"So, yeah, I don't really want to get in the middle of that, right now."
"I see," Cecilia said, from where she was gazing out into the sunset. "Drama. What fun."
"I just… I mean, Ron can be really thoughtless sometimes, but I kinda agree with him this time. Hermione isn't being very considerate," Harry said. "She makes excuses for Crookshanks, and he loves to chase Des. She just sort of bought Crookshanks without thinking of the consequences."
"And this frustrates you," Cecilia said, softly.
"Well, yeah. Ron has a rat. Which, I mean, I'm not saying that she can't buy a cat, because Ron has a rat," Harry said, shrugging. "It's more… well, it's like she has no consideration for Des. She didn't ask if it was okay to buy him, and she acts like he's blameless. Like Des matters less than Crookshanks. Which, I guess, to her, he might. But it's still rude, to disregard your friend's pet."
"I would advise you avoid taking sides," Cecilia said. "They are both your friends, no?"
"Of course not," Harry agreed. "But I'm not really neutral, am I? Particularly when I can read both their minds. And I know how dismissive Hermione is, in her head. It doesn't look like both sides are equal, from where I'm standing."
"Hmmm." Cecilia's mouth quirked, into a smile, and she tilted her head. "And thus, the talent for Legilimency comes into play. It's not always a good thing, isn't it?"
"No," Harry admitted. "I know so many things about so many people, you don't even know."
Cecilia laughed, coming forward to lean against the wall. "Oh I do. I had the same ability, you know. And I was - well, I was, for most of my time in school, apparently a muggleborn in Slytherin. I am a half-blood, but I never knew my parents. I had a muggle name, and thus, I was mud, to them." She bared her teeth. "As you might be able to imagine, they took that very poorly.
"And thus, I was forced to… correct them. And knowing their secrets was very useful," Cecilia said.
Harry paused. "You, uh. Sorry. I just don't know what you mean? You like, used their weaknesses?"
Cecilia tilted her head. "Most of them, I blackmailed. Some of them, I did use their weakness. And others, I exploited Legilimency to defeat them in duels."
"Oh," Harry said, curling up, knees underneath her chin. "So I should blackmail Malfoy?"
"Is he still bothering you?"
"He's been quiet. Ever since I threw mud at him, at Hogsmeade. But I think he's planning something."
Cecilia hummed. "I suppose that depends on what you intend to blackmail him with. He seems rather immune, to the lesson we've intended to impart. I'd think you'd need something of some kind of import, to get him to leave off."
"Yeah," Harry said. "But who knows? He always forgets, that I can kick his ass. And, well, I told Snape that I wouldn't use what I learned from Legilimency. Not that, well, I mean, I'm not saying I'd do that because I respect Snape, but Malfoy is the kind of person that would whinge to him, and he might put two and two together."
"Hmm," Cecilia said, again. "Something to think about. But we have to, well…" And then she met Harry's eye, and then -
And then she was back, submerged in the memory of Malfoy initially, on the train, and at Madam Malkin's, and all through their years. Watching, as Cecilia through them. Harry could have tried to resist, but it was easier and less painful to just watch. Harry really didn't mind Cecilia -
She paged through the memories, like quicksilver, like she was paging through a book, looking for the right chapter.
And then it was over.
Harry sighed. She was, admittedly, a little more sanguine about this sort of thing after months of time spent inside people's heads. It wasn't like Cecilia was going to do anything with the information - it was just easier than explaining.
"Quite frankly, I am not sure," Cecilia admitted. "He's genuinely impressive. No matter how many defeats, he seems quite unwilling to give up. It's almost admirable."
"So you're not sure of a way?"
"I think our best bet is Legilimecy," Cecilia said. "However, your Potions professor presents a complication - he may very well notice. And finding people to practice on can be… difficult. I'll have to consider how to handle it."
"I don't really want to give Snape an opportunity to hate me anymore," Harry admitted.
"I understand, Harry. I am sorry that I have no answers for you now. Unfortunately, I think the best way might be to find some Muggles in a place far from Hogwarts, and we can't exactly do that, right now. I worry that any manipulation might be noticed by Snape, so really, the most we can do is continue our practice."
"That's disappointing, but I get why," Harry said. "Will you be able to show me what to do, in only the diary? We won't have this room during the summer."
"I should," Cecilia said. "I am confident you could do it without my assistance. I am sorry, however. I am less than useful, at the moment. Between the strangeness of the languages, and the frustration of your friends and classmates…" She shrugged, indolently. "I feel rather useless."
"It's okay. You're teaching me. That's worth a whole lot to me. Besides, it's not about that," Harry said, quickly. "You're my friend."
Cecilia's lips twitched. "And you're mine. You don't need to thank me, however. I will teach you. It is my purpose."
"Do you like it?"
She rested against the wall, folding her hands in front of her. "It is… not unsatisfying. And you are far from the worst student I could have."
"Admit it," Harry said, smiling. "You like me!"
"If you must insist on such annoyingly Gryffindorish sentiments," Cecilia sniffed. "Then yes, we are friends, little weed."
Harry beamed.
Lupin raised his wand, and said, "Flipendo." The burst of light left his wand, but Harry wasn't worried. She had this down.
It wasn't about motion, as much as maintaining the focus around her wand. The trick wasn't overly complicated - it was more about concentration, keeping one's wand in the right position.
Harry flicked her wand - the spell bounced off, easily. She returned fire - just Expulso, an afterthought. It was, as Cecilia called it, a useful all-purpose spell, with a very simple movement. It was slightly wordy, to say, but Harry was working on casting it silently. It couldn't be deflected with Protego, only mitigated, and physical shields were equally ineffective. She wasn't putting very much into it - she didn't want to kill Lupin, at least.
He frowned, and threw himself out of the way. Harry followed up with a stunning spell, and a quick little three-shot burst of Petrificus Totalus, Diffindo, and Depulso. The first was silent, the second two quick enough to say.
Lupin shielded those, but he used Protego.
Hmm. She thought she'd broken him of that habit.
A complicated series of jabs, and she pronounced, "Hwach'a." A collection of metal-tipped arrows appeared, arrayed like a pachinko machine. A wave had them lit on fire, and then they shot out, like bursts from a cannon.
Lupin had time enough to drop the shield, and do… something with his wand. The arrows all deflected off the shield, crashing into the walls behind him, and exploding.
"Harry," he said, slowly. "Stop."
Harry lowered her wand.
"We've talked about this," he said, gently. "If you can't…"
Harry made a displeased face. "I could have healed it. And, sir, I'll say the same thing I said last time. This isn't a game, for me. I've come face-to-face with Voldemort before. It will happen again. And she won't pull her punches."
"Regardless, there is the very real fact that the spells you're using are not - not the kind of magic that you should be using, in a school. That last one, Hwacha - that is a foreign spell, but the Ministry would almost certainly ban it if it wasn't from a country half a world away."
Harry said nothing, because there was nothing to say. Legal and illegal magic had been a point of contention between them for a while.
"If that is the case," Lupin said, slowly, "it might be best if we stopped our lessons, from now on."
"I understand, Professor," Harry said. "May I head to bed, then?"
He nodded, sadly.
She fled, not long after.
It was History. Harry still went to class, but it was mostly to talk to Cecilia without interruptions.
I have a question.
Yes, Harry?
Why are so many spells in Latin? I mean, it's not even actual Latin, now that I think about it. Wingardium Leviosa is… well, from what I can tell, it's nonsense. And I've learned spells in Greek, and some in Korean. If I think hard, I think I know some other languages.
And… she continued, frowning. The runes thing. Well, glyphs. Why those languages? Sanskrit and Futhark and Old Egyptian. They aren't spoken anymore, but what makes them useful for Runes? Could I use English for Runes? Or Latin?
The words appeared on the page, deliberate and well-formed, like Cecilia was lecturing. It's not quite so simple as one reason. But the differences are mostly cultural. Wands - and therefore modern wizardry - came about during the Roman Empire. So, they used the dominant languages at the time. But the reason that it's become mangled is primarily drift. Latin is a dead language. No one speaks it any more.
But, when people make new spells - particularly in Europe and North America - they primarily use Latin, more out of tradition than everything else. And, being a dead language, people often make mistakes, because they don't speak it. So, while Wingardium Leviosa isn't real Latin, it's made by someone who was trying to make it sound Latin-esque.
Greek has survived the test of time better. That is, most of the Greek spells I've encountered are more accurate to the language. Of course, that doesn't mean they're accurate, since languages drift naturally. The English we speak isn't the same as the English spoken hundreds of years ago - even a hundred years ago, it was different.
Korean - I can't speak to that. I simply don't know enough. I do know a fair amount of spells in other languages, but I know Europe tends to favor Latin, because of the influence of the Romans. I would imagine that Farsi or Mandarin get used in those regions. I know a fair few spells in Demotic, which was the language spoken in Egypt at the time that the wand was making its rounds.
Harry interrupted. Why are wands so important?
Because, frankly, they are the magical equivalent of the invention of interchangeable parts, and therefore, the modern rifle. Before the wand, most people learned magic slowly, and spells were far less standardized. Mages would learn, mostly based on talents and who their teachers were. But once everyone had a strong focus, things could be made to match the lowest common denominator.
Inventions like rifles and crossbows revolutionized warfare because they could be used with less skill than bows or swords. You don't have to train for years just to become skilled. Any idiot with a rifle can kill an expert. Skill gaps exist, of course, but a beginner with a sword needs to be fantastically lucky to triumph over an expert.
But a wand - it's not the same, of course, because I am making an analogy, but it bridges that skill gap. That's why you learn magic from a professor, in a classroom, as a student. If wands did not exist, you would likely be learning as one of a handful of apprentices, from a master in their own home, as part of a close arrangement with your family. Does that answer your question?
Yes, Harry wrote. Wands let us all use the same spells.
Indeed. They are used around the world for that reason, even among places that weren't part of the Roman Empire. The other large historical invention that affected the magical world was actually muggle - the printing press. I'm sure you can imagine why.
Yeah. I mean, it's sort of obvious. Spreading knowledge and all that.
Quite. Back to your original question, I believe that the cultures that used runes were the most skilled in runic magic. The cultures that used their own languages, and it spread. Not unlike Latin, if you will allow the comparison. Yes, no one speaks Futhark, but it was the old Norse that discovered how to carve symbols into things, and imbue them with magic before our ancestors did.
Well, maybe your ancestors learned it from the Indo-Aryan people who lived on the indian subcontinent in ancient times. It is another question of invention. Similarly, the ancient Egyptian civilization - their name for themselves is hard to pronounce and doesn't really exist in English - used their own language. They were particularly skilled magical users - I believe that the culture at the time was a reason that Egypt was a center of civilization for so long.
It's honestly a little silly that we learn Futhark. I think learning Old Egyptian might be more useful, as it is more user-friendly for erecting permanent wards than Futhark.
So, yes, you could use English for both, but you'd need to be very skilled at spell-crafting to do so. You'd basically have to invent a whole new system from scratch. And English - modern English at least, is a hybrid language that comes about from a number of different influences. So I imagine it would be a particularly hard language to balance, arithmetically. You'd have to do a bunch of complicated mathematics, in order to do that.
My theory is that Korean is the opposite - easy. As I understand it, the writing system was designed to be very easy to use. Perhaps that offers the unique status that makes it so simple.
That makes sense, Harry wrote. Maybe I should see if I can ward something in Korean.
Actually, now that I think about it - you demonstrated that spell, did you not? Deonjida. And it has a number of wand movements that produce different effects, no?
Yes, Harry said. That's how it works. That's all I know, however.
It's all we need. How do you cast a runic spell, Harry?
You, uh, have to concentrate and hold a bunch of runes in the air, drawing them out with your wand and keeping all the elements properly balanced, in your mind. You said it was like trying to juggle a bunch of differently-shaped objects.
Yes. Another flawed analogy, but correct enough. I believe that Deonjida is in fact a runic spell, just one that is arithmetically balanced as to allow for a number of different effects. Most of the spells we cast do only one thing - that's all the equation is balanced for. To put it another way, Deonjida is an equation that has a number of different solutions. It's… elegant.
Oh, Harry wrote. So I technically know runic casting!
Not really. Part of the reason that spell is so impressive is because it's nothing like the runic casting we know. It doesn't seem to be any different than non-runic spells, because it basically is one. The process of the wand movements might be slightly more complicated, and it might be impossible to point-cast, but it is essentially just a wanded spell. Be careful, though. Runic casting is restricted in Britain. I doubt anyone will notice, because it's from the other side of the world. Is Korea still a part of Japan's empire, on the magical side?
Korea was part of Japan?
Yes. It still was on the magical side, but not the muggle when Cecilia disappeared. I don't know about recently. It's not a big deal. I was just curious.
Oh. I'm sad that it's not real runic casting, but I guess I'll live. Thanks for answering.
Anytime, Harriet.
Reading those words made her lips twist into a smile.
an: Not that much to say, other than I think the next chapter should wrap up this year. Some elements of worldbuilding borrowed in part or wholesale, if I thought they made sense. The other thing too - I am definitely taking shots at JK's bad latin. That's intentional.