Harry read the letter he had received once again, but he still couldn't make sense of it.
"What is it, Harry?" Parvati said, brows furrowed, "you've been glaring at that letter for the past few minutes."
Harry simply handed it over, hoping that she could understand it better.
Parvati read the letter, and turned to Harry. She said, "I don't get what you don't get. It's an invitation to tea Hagrid sent you – simple enough, though the spelling and calligraphy could use a lot of work," looking at him as if questioning his intelligence.
"Yeah, but… why?" Harry said, still puzzled.
"Because he knew your parents – it says so in the letter, duh!" Parvati said, rolling her eyes.
"He doesn't know me at all, though," Harry said, starting to get annoyed – he wasn't sure what he was annoyed at, though.
"Then go and get to know him, you grumpy lump!" Parvati urged him, smiling. "You could also ask him about your parents!" She concluded.
"Oh! Oh! Can I come with?!" Lavender interjected, a jolly grin on her face.
"I haven't even decided if I'll go yet," Harry said, half-heartedly. In truth, he had already decided to accept the invitation.
Lavender looked at him skeptically, raising her eyebrows in an exaggerated way.
Harry noted how hard it was to lie to Lavender; she was nowhere near as gullible as Parvati. 'Too bad she's so… giggly,' Harry thought, 'and never applies herself to learning magic. As for her obsession with Divination, I'm not sure what to think of it. Did she get that from Parvati? I wonder.'
Harry and his female friends reached Hagrid's hut a few minutes after they left the Great Hall; all the while, the two girls were chatting with one another about some topic or another. Harry felt strange when he left the castle – he could no longer feel many sources of… magical energy (?) from it, only one major source. Harry hesitated when he reached the door, only for Lavender to intervene and knock on it herself. The blonde gave Harry a questioning look, but Harry shrugged and stared ahead.
!
The barking of a dog snapped Harry out of his fugue, making him take a couple steps back and stumble a bit due to a stone beneath his feet. He lifted his hands, ready to cast magic.
"Down, Fang, down!" A deep and rough voice said, a huge hand holding the even larger black dog by its red collar.
Harry didn't dare look up at the source of the voice; he kept both eyes on the dog, which was… whimpering and rolling on the ground? Maybe Harry somehow managed to scare- 'Wait,' Harry thought, 'why is Lavender petting it? Why is it licking her hand?'
Harry reluctantly lowered his right hand, though he kept his left pointed at the giant dog. It wasn't overly bulky, but its height was greater than any dog he had encountered before; Ripper was probably a monster only because that bloody bitch Marge had raised it, but Harry didn't trust dogs anyway.
Harry said, "hello, Mr. Hagrid," still keeping track of the dog from the corner of his eye, "are you well?"
"I'm jus' fine Harry, but call me Hagrid – no 'Mr.'. Whatabou' you?" Hagrid said. Then, the man said, "don't yeh worry 'bout Fang. He's a total softy – bit of a coward, too."
"Hagrid," Harry said, "how tall is… Fang?" Genuinely curious.
"Oh, four foot one, or thereabouts – don' ask me how much that is in metres," Hagrid said, waving his hand around.
Harry did a few calculations in his mind – that amounted to slightly below 125 centimetres. Was it normal for dogs to reach such sizes? Or were magical breeds -or enlarging Charms- involved?
"Fang's a Great Dane, or Boarhound – not completely purebred, tho'," Hagrid said, speaking again, "muggle breeds of this dog cin reach three foot five, mabe a bit more. Fang has sum magical dog blood, I think."
Hagrid apparently knew his stuff when it came to animals, both magical and not. While Harry wasn't interested in dog trivia, he made note of Hagrid's apparent expertise. The boy reluctantly approached the large dog and Hagrid. Since Harry could see the man more clearly, he could tell that Hagrid's hair was black; despite all those whiskers, Hagrid didn't look a day over thirty-five; no white hair to find, nor did he have any difficulty moving. The gigantic man could be anywhere from his early thirties to even his late fifties, though magicals tended to look younger than they actually were.
Harry's curiosity reared its head again – before he could stop himself, he said, "so, Hagrid – on an unrelated note, how old are you?"
Lavender and Parvati glared at Harry for some reason – was he being rude? 'Oh well, those two will get over it,' Harry thought, not overly concerned; maybe he once cared about such things, but if so, that time was long gone. He knew how to mimic other people's behaviour, but would only do so if necessary.
Hagrid's lips and whiskers twitched. He said, "would yeh believe me if I told yeh nobody has asked me that fer years? I will be sixty-three in a coupla months."
"You don't look sixty-two," Harry commented.
Parvati kept glaring at Harry, while Lavender said, "yeah, you look so young, Hagrid!"
Hagrid laughed awkwardly, saying, "yeh kids are makin' me blush."
'Hagrid is like a kid mentally, too,' Harry thought, though without venom – he actually liked Hagrid, to a point, much to his surprise.
Suddenly, a whistle-like noise resounded in the hut, making Harry twitch, but no more than that; he was slowly getting used to being startled in the wizarding society. Hagrid excused himself to get the tea; he returned with a teapot that looked to be hand-carved imperfectly out of porcelain, a few cups that were probably made the same way but of clay and with better craftsmanship, and what looked like rock-cakes.
According to Hagrid, the rock-cakes were vanilla flavoured with raisins. Harry tried one – it was crunchy outside and softer inside, which was par for the course for a rock-cake. Unfortunately, it was way too soft and mud-like inside, as if it hadn't been heated for long enough.
"Well? How are them rock-cakes? I managed not ter make them too hard to chew this time, right?" Hagrid asked.
This time…? Harry sensed a story there. Shrugging that off, Harry was completely honest on how bad the sweet Hagrid baked was and why.
Parvati said, "Harry!" Trying to scold him.
Lavender, of all people, came to Harry's defence. She said, "Parvati – Harry has a point. If we don't tell Hagrid what's wrong with his cakes, how do you expect him to get better? Hagrid. You shouldn't move sweets around all the time, though a few rotations help with a problem like this. You shouldn't open the oven door too many times, if you're using an oven. If the cake has ended up almost raw inside, next time you should try with lower temperature. If they're too hard to chew, mix more slowly, gently and by hand next time – no magic for stirring and not much strength at all. Make sure to use the right kind and amount of flour."
Hagrid asked Lavender to tell him all those tips again... so the blonde did.
Harry was surprised by Lavender's knowledge of baking, but he didn't say anything. Parvati was looking at Lavender with her mouth open, saying, "Lavender… since when have you known how to bake?"
Lavender rolled her eyes in exasperation. She said, "don't tell me that 'cause I'm a disaster when cooking, you thought I'd be bad at baking, too?"
"Well, yeah," Parvati said, mouth still a bit open.
"At least you're honest," Lavender said, smirking, "what about you, Harry?
"What about me… what?" Harry said, smirking back at Lavender.
Lavender sighed and said, "did you think I'd be bad at baking, too? Can you bake and cook?"
"Yes to all three," Harry said, still smirking.
Parvati perked up. She said, "wait, you can cook and bake, Harry? My grandmother has shown me how to bake a few traditional sweets from India, but I'm not very good at making them on my own!"
Harry thought back to when his aunt and uncle had had him cook most meals; his mood darkened. "Yes. I'm decent at cooking, but I don't do it often. On the other hand, I'm both really good at baking and do it often – I'm the one who usually makes sweets at home," Harry explained, "my aunt isn't one to make such things – my cousin and uncle had a problem with their weight, so if any of us wants something unhealthy, she won't make it, and even the one making it is not allowed more than a certain amount."
Not that Harry cared what his aunt said, but he didn't want his uncle or cousin to go back to being overweight, and followed his coach's suggestions on what to eat, who happened to agree with his aunt on sweets. The amounts he ate, on the other hand, were far beyond what anyone else he had known ate… probably because wizards needed more energy, because he had seen Parvati, Sally-Anne Perks and Ronald eat nearly as much.
"Are your uncle and cousin better with their weight now?" Lavender asked.
"Yes," Harry said, "they have both lost weight and put on a bit of muscle; my uncle has taken up kickboxing, my cousin plays basketball now – I had known Dudley was good at aiming before then, but not THAT good! Both of them are eating more healthy thanks to advice from a dietician."
"Glad to hear it," Lavender said, "what's 'basketball' and 'kickboxing', though?"
"Muggle sports," Harry said, feeling too lazy to explain further – he was lucky that Dean had taken over explaining football to the girls, because Harry didn't have much patience for that kind of thing.
"Yeh kids are so responsible for yer age!" Hagrid said, blowing his nose.
Fang barked once, startling Harry again. The boy said, "so, it's getting late, Hagrid – I'll be taking my leave now."
"I didn't even get ta tell you about yer parents," Hagrid said, "oh well – come back sometime, yeh hear?"
"Sure thing, Hagrid," Harry said, smiling awkwardly at the gigantic man.
As the three children were returning to the castle, Lavender pestered Harry about what muggle sports he knew. Harry told her and Parvati that they already knew about football, then some things about basketball, but didn't mention that he had dabbled in basketball, too; he had played some games against Dudley, though it was really difficult to beat his cousin because Dudley was more accurate and far more skilled in that particular sport, and a bit taller and stronger too, though Harry was catching up in strength rapidly.
'I wonder if those who have magic tend to be stronger, more durable, faster and all that rot,' Harry thought.
He decided to get back to exercising nearly religiously – his coach had warned him against overdoing it, because it might keep him from growing much taller in the future, but Harry could do with going back to his previous routine; he had been somewhat slack at Hogwarts.
"Flying lessons?" Harry said out loud, looking at the announcement board in the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Flying?! Where!" A voice said, and a boy Harry knew as Ronald Weasley came running, nearly bowling over Harry.
Harry managed to dodge, barely. His lips pursed, but before he could tear into Ronald, Granger made a snide comment.
The annoying girl said, "Ronald – I always thought you were like an ape, but I was wrong; you are a lot less coordinated than one."
Harry snorted – he hadn't expected that of Granger. Who knew she had a sense of humour? He left the two annoying fools to their long bickering... well, Ronald at least had a little bit of tact and social skills, Harry would give him that, even if he was impulsive and slightly clumsy. Granger did not, from what he had witnessed himself and all the things Parvati and Lavender had told him. The two of them probably thought he had tuned out their gossiping, but because of his practice with keeping his mind focused, he was able to pay only the barest bit of attention to someone's words and still remember them... which made his gaffe with the Wand-Lighting Charm all the more annoying.
Now, whether he cared if their roommate Sophie Roper liked other girls; or that another roommate of theirs, Annabel Entwhistle had been sorted into a different house from her twin brother, like Parvati with her sister Padma; or about their final roommate other than Granger, Sally-Anne Perks, supposedly having been abandoned by her muggle father at a very early age... well, that was another story. Okay, so maybe the last one had drawn his attention.
Harry read the Potions book one more time, then he got started with the book on the history of the libraries of the ancient world, including that of Alexandria and even Hogwarts's library. According to the book, even the Muggles knew that Julius Caesar had only destroyed a small minority of its scrolls, but at the time, Wizarding intellectuals had decided to splinter from the muggle ones and take all Magic-related scrolls and many mundane ones with them. What had truly killed the muggle part of the Library was stagnation and a drop in the prestige and reputation it had had as a centre of making new discoveries – it had never been 'just a library' before.
Harry wondered if there had been any innovation in the Wizarding societies during the twentieth century and how it compared to the Muggles' progress. The modern-day wizarding Library of Alexandria held a lot of older knowledge -hoarded it, if Harry was reading between the lines correctly-, but Hogwarts permitted access to its library to a lot more people and nearly matched the bulk of books and scrolls, not to mention Harry suspected it was kept more up-to-date.
There were a lot of dry facts, names and dates hiding the more important parts, too. Maybe less interesting a read than Harry had expected, but knowing just how amazing the Hogwarts Library was had been worth the tedium. His project over and done with, Harry got started with the Potions essay of the week. It was about what Potions certain common ingredients were used in, though they hadn't yet got into the 'why'.
Once Harry had mostly got the hang of writing with a quill and swinging around his wand, including the most common wand movements, he got started with Reparifarge in an abandoned classroom one early morning. After quite a few failures, Harry resorted to looking into more advanced Transfiguration theoretical background. It looked like even reversing a very simple Transformation would take a lot of reading, so he got started with Vanishment immediately.
Harry first took a button he had asked McGonagall for, focused, then murmured "Evanesco", willing it to disperse into the most basic of sub-atomic particles. It worked on the first try, which made sense considering Harry's most prominent accidental magic had been related to that, but Vanishing the button had taken more than two seconds to manage, so Harry practised for over an hour with various small inanimate objects, until it took one and a half second consistently, with most of that time spent entering the trance-like state.
What Harry did next was try it without speaking aloud, which took him back to square one, as in over two seconds to manage it each time. Harry decided to continue some other time and go for breakfast; since he had got one of his projects mostly out of the way, he decided to explore the castle after he would have breakfast – constantly reading books and practising magic made Lavender, Parvati and Dean nag Harry to relax more, especially on Sundays like the current day.
Harry went up to his dorm, with Parvati going to her own, and Dean and Lavender staying in the Common Room. He gathered some of his stuff and was getting ready to start his excursion when Dean talked to him in the Common Room.
"What're you up to, Harry?" Dean asked, looking up from the sketch he was colouring.
Harry said, "I'm going to explore the castle a bit – I might find something interesting," his mind on whatever secrets the castle held.
Dean shrugged, saying, "have fun, then."
Lavender said, "can I go with you?" Speaking more softly than her usual.
Harry had been about to say 'no' when he considered Lavender's question – she was more observant than most gave her credit for; her presence might help him find something. He said, "all right, Lavender."
"Why not?- Wait, did you just say yes?" Lavender said, her eyes wide open, looking at Harry.
Dean sniggered at that point.
"Sod off, you git!" Harry told Dean, making a grimace, but all that only made the git laugh harder.
"Let's go," Harry told Lavender and power-walked to the Fat Lady's portrait.
"…Wait for me!" Lavender said loudly, her quick steps echoing behind Harry.
Harry looked around for anything interesting while Lavender was looking at Harry himself. She said, "so, Harry, what're we looking for?"
He breathed in and out, entering the trance from His Dark Materials, his attention loose (unlike what he used when he cast) but still very much aware. Harry held up a hand to shush Lavender, who had started to speak again, and waited until he found stronger sources of energy (Magic?) to follow. He told Lavender that anything interesting would do. "You should poke my shoulder if you notice something potentially interesting; things that may hide secret passages and such," Harry said, still in his state, which he should really give a name to at some point.
Following the strongest trail, Harry made sure not to go too fast, so that Lavender could keep up. He ended up in a corridor whose end felt… alive, in a way. He went up to the door at said end, turned the doorknob… unfortunately, it was locked. Harry knew how to pick locks thanks to one of his teammates in the football team, but it usually took him more than ten minutes for success, so he didn't feel like it at the moment; maybe Transfiguration to destroy the lock…? 'Note to self,' Harry thought, 'learn a spell for unlocking things. When I was locked in the cupboard, I used the time alone to practise my magic, so there was no need for such a spell, and I could have transformed the door in an emergency.'
Lavender poked Harry, making him turn around. She said, "Harry, I think we're in the forbidden third floor corridor," whispering, and shivering slightly.
"Let's leave, then," Harry said, not lowering his voice much.
"…Where are they, my sweet? What do you smell?" A voice that sounded like Filch said.
Lavender gasped, but Harry bent down to her ear, saying, "don't make a noise even if Filch is in front of us. I'll find a way."
Maybe Harry should use the Wand-Lighting Charm to blind him? Nope, then Filch would have a real reason to take off points. Wandless? The voice and meowing were getting closer. A hybrid approach? Time was running out. Harry got into his trance-like state, touching his left sleeve where his slightly gnarled wand was using his right hand, then thinking of how he used illusions like the Torture Vision and trying one, this time making it so that anyone coming around the corner would see and hear nobody… hopefully.
Filch was there before Harry had time for anything further. Lavender let out a muffled whimper, but Filch was looking back and forth, obviously confused. Mrs. Norris, his cat, stopped in front of them, sniffing. Harry was breathing in and out carefully but Filch, then the cat moved on, with Filch murmuring something about the 'miscreants' having left. Harry waited a few moments, then took Lavender by the hand and started walking away without rushing, with her still shaking.
Once they had reached safety, Harry let go of Lavender's hand. She leaned against a wall and sighed out loud, then again. She put her palm on her chest over her heart and started breathing faster and faster. Harry put a hand on her shoulder, then said, "slowly. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth… yes, like that," his voice as steady as he could make it.
"Ho- how are you so calm?" Lavender said, no longer hyperventilating or shaking as much but still shivering a bit and speaking weakly.
Harry felt ready to do a lot more; just keeping a trance-like state active for twenty minutes on end or so and casting an illusion wasn't enough to tire him out, mentally or otherwise, anymore. He said, "because I was focused enough on the goal of getting away that I had no chance to panic. You should go relax – I'll do something else… maybe look up spells useful for getting away from creepy gits like Filch."
Besides, Harry was not quite as unaffected as he pretended to be.
"O- okay," Lavender said, not even protesting Harry going to the Library again in her post-panic state. Then, she said, "will you take me back to the Common Room?" Her voice more stable, but still weak.
"Er… all right," Harry said, realising he preferred not to leave Lavender in such a state alone.
After taking her there, he waved goodbye and walked toward the Hogwarts Library, walking more quickly than earlier but still not jogging – Filch would probably yell at him for doing that, and Harry had no intention of running afoul of that man and his cat twice in the same hour.
He entered the Library, in which only Ravenclaws of all years and a few of his fellow Gryffindors in upper years were around, picked three books after using the search function: '42 Plus One Common But Still Useful Charms', 'Charms For New Mothers' and 'Charms That Can Help in a Pinch', withdrew the Standard Book of Spells Grade 1 and Grade 2 from his bag, then started reading. The book for mothers or the one for help in a pinch would hopefully contain something that could help people who were choking… or hyperventilating, like Lavender nearly had earlier.
The spells he found most promising and easy to learn were the Repairing Charm, 'Reparo'; the Locking Charm, 'Colloportus' and its counterspell, the Unlocking Charm, 'Alohomora'; the Revelio Charm, incantation 'Revelio', which showed concealed objects; the Smokescreen Charm, 'Fumos'; the General Counter-Spell, 'Finite'; the Severing Charm, 'Diffindo'; the Liquid-Siphoning Charm, 'Tergeo', which was considered a household Charm; the Air-Freshening Charm, 'Ventus Recens', which had in-depth instructions that Professor Snape hadn't bothered getting into; also, the Flame-Freezing Charm, 'Gelflamma', same as the latter. Harry withdrew some parchment, a quill and ink, taking care not to spill any of the latter on the books.
He went ahead and made notes on all of those, and even some spells that were supposed to be above his level, such as the Summoning Charm, 'Accio' and the Banishing Charm, 'Depulso', which were not recommended for anyone below the age of thirteen to try (even though he had managed them without a wand at a very early age, the latter with much proficiency) ; the Breath-Clearing charm, incantation 'Anapneo', a simple healing Charm that helped people who were having trouble breathing, or were hyperventilating or choking on something – anything like that, but it was not recommended for anyone below twelve to try and the Slowing Charm, 'Arresto Momentum'. The Confundus Charm, 'Confundo'; the Freeing Charm, 'Relashio', which forced anyone who was grabbing them, even rope or chains to let go and the Disillusionment Charm, 'Krypse Me' were the last spells he took notes on… they might help in the future with Filch and his cat, though the latter was not recommended for anyone below fifteen to try.
He almost decided to make notes on a few more, but Harry's hands were cramping, and he could tell that they either were beyond him at the moment or he likely wouldn't need them for a while – namely, the Minor Living-Tissue-Realigning Charm, 'Episkey', which took a lot of knowledge on anatomy, so it was beyond Harry; the Human-Presence-Revealing Spell, 'Homenum Revelio', which wasn't a priority at the moment and the Muggle Repelling Spell, 'Repello Muggletum', which was the same. The Levitation Charm, Wingardium Leviosa, was not necessary because according to Flitwick, he would be teaching their class that spell next time. Maybe the Time-Telling Spell, 'Tempus'(*)? Harry's watch had broken not long after he had got to Hogwarts, and he hadn't had the opportunity to get a new one.
Having finished his research on Charms, Harry put the Library books back where he had found them and moved on to Transfiguration theory – he wouldn't be able to learn Reparifarge without research, after all. He borrowed other books, and removed his own book on Transfiguration from his bag. By the time Harry was satisfied with his progress, he was a bit tired mentally, and both his hands were cramping even more from taking notes, with Harry having switched from one to let the other rest more than once while taking notes. He put his own books back into his bag, returned the books on Transfiguration he had borrowed and left, wondering what time it was.
Before Harry realised, he had already reached the Great Hall, sitting down at the Gryffindor table to wait for the lunch bell to ring, which happened only a few minutes later. There were three hours between the end of breakfast and the start of lunch, so he must have been in the library for two hours and a half or so. As the other students trickled into the Great Hall and dishes started appearing… somehow, Harry piled various things onto his plate and started eating, waving when Dean and Parvati sat on either side, but not actually speaking to them.
Lavender came along after Harry had already finished eating, sitting down next to Parvati. She was still a bit flushed and had her head down, with the questions Parvati was asking not helping, so Harry intervened, saying, "we met Filch near the third floor corridor, though he didn't see us."
"And just what were you two doing there?" Parvati asked, putting her hands on her hips.
Harry rolled his eyes at her over-dramatic act and said, "we accidentally got there while looking for secret passages and such-"
"You mean you got us there," Lavender said, lifting her head for the first time in a while.
Harry said, "okay, so that was mostly my-"
"Completely," Lavender interjected, scrunching up her eyebrows.
"...That was completely my fault. Happy now?" Harry said grumpily, probably making a sour face.
"Very," Lavender said, sounding cheerful.
"Good, because I'm going to jog for a bit around the grounds… without anyone to infect me with their waves of happiness. Be seeing you," Harry said, waving at them.
If there were any protests, Harry didn't hear them – he fully intended to practise some of the spells he had found after he finished his workout. He removed his glasses, folded them and put them in a pocket. He still had his book-bag on his shoulders, but Harry didn't mind – it wasn't much of a weight, considering it only contained three books at the moment (one on Transfiguration theory and two of the Standard Book of Spells series). He passed by only a few students relaxing in the grounds, probably because of the cold, while jogging – at first, he went easy to get used to the weight and let his stomach settle, but he soon picked up the pace.
…All too soon, Harry was tired enough to slow down to a fast walk, then slower and slower until he stopped. His -visible- breathing also slowed down gradually until it reached normal levels. He entered his trance-like- -well, his Casting Trance, as he had decided to call it- drew his wand with a motion of his left arm and said 'Tempus', thinking of what time it was. Numbers appeared in the air, made of smoke, but dissipated quickly. Harry tried quite a few more times, until he managed something more clear and lasting.
438699458518128657
"What in the bloody hell-?" Harry said out loud. If it could at least be more legible!
The number changed on the next cast; it rested at:
438,699,458,518,128,675
The digits were also larger, easily visible without his glasses, which he put on his face once again for good measure.
"Well, at least I got my wish for more legibility," Harry said to himself again, "how much is this in years?" Casting again.
438,699,458,518,128,701 sec - 13,911,068,573 years + 11 min + 41 sec
'…Don't Muggles estimate the Universe to be around fifteen billion years old?' Harry thought, 'they're apparently slightly off…,' freaking out a bit at how casually a barely-trained wizard could render decades of research and millennia of speculation obsolete and possibly for other reasons he could not quite discern – not to mention his awe at knowing something like that.
Harry felt really small compared to the rest of the universe; his life was barely a speck in the overall universe's existence, but the awe was swiftly giving way to another emotion: anger. Hadn't a wizard discovered the age of the universe before? If they had, had they been stupid enough to dismiss it as a random number or simply unimportant? Harry took deep breaths – there was a chance he was wrong, and the Wizarding society already knew the age of the universe, so there was no point in getting angry.
He dismissed the smoke with a wave of his wand, then tried the spell a few more times until he got a recognisable result consistently.
13:49, 44 sec
Harry let out the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding in, and it was visible in the chilly Scotland October weather – success at last! He had left the Great Hall fifty-eight minutes earlier, and much (most?) of the time, he had spent practising on the spell, so twenty-five to thirty minutes of uninterrupted jogging before he had got tired…? 'That's pathetic, even with the added weight,' Harry thought to himself, 'I need to get back into shape.'
An idea was forming in Harry's mind; maybe he could pitch it to Dean… Quidditch was possibly the only popular sport in Wizarding Britain, but Harry didn't relish the idea of only a stick being between him and a hundred-foot-fall, and playing a sport on top of that? Definitely not! Organising a game or ten of football shouldn't be too hard with all the Muggleborns around.
'I should also look for a spell that can keep someone warm,' Harry thought to himself, shivering, then decided to try a full-body Vanishment for his sweat wandlessly.
… 'It worked,' Harry decided, not feeling any sweat on him anymore, 'why does my cloak feel so drafty, though?'
Patting himself down revealed that his undershirt, underwear and trousers were no longer there. 'Well, shite,' Harry thought to himself.
The robes and winter cloak on their own wouldn't be enough to keep Harry warm; he wasn't going to give up so easily, though.
Harry found a secluded area near a tree that tried to hit anyone who came close – he didn't know what the tree was called; he might ask the girls later, they were so-called 'purebloods'. He also found the ideal distance – far enough to keep it from getting close to hitting him and near enough for nobody to bother him. The tree also kept the cold winds from freezing him.
Harry had an idea for his practice; maybe he could do with practising both Transfiguration and a Charm…. Harry entered his Casting Trance… and tried to Transform a small rock into cloth with his wand. The first try was too hard to be anything other than made of rock, though it looked like a miniature bedsheet, but Harry visualised a piece of cloth with more senses than his eyesight until he had a near-flawless piece of cloth. Harry balled it up, but it turned back into a rock.
He tried the Transformation a few more times, until balling it up didn't revert the cloth, then used the Banishing Charm on it, murmuring, "Depulso".
Had it moved, or was it the wind? Harry tried more times, but nothing of note was happening, until he got frustrated and pushed the balled-up piece of cloth away wandlessly in the dangerous tree's direction, causing said tree to swat it away. 'What am I doing wrong?' Harry thought to himself.
After quite a few more tries, Harry was ready to call it quits, but he got the second grade Standard Book of Spells out of his bag – he had done that in his studies in the muggle society before: changing topics or assignments in order to come back later to what had frustrated him before. In that book, a way to increase or decrease the intensity of a spell by using more or less power was outlined. For Charms, it provided some examples of spells that changed in intensity, some that could fail explosively if overpowered and some for which more power would simply take more toll on the body without changing anything in the spell.
Harry took note of the book saying that wizards and witches couldn't 'run out' of magical energy, but working a lot of powerful magic could take its toll on a body, especially that of the really young and the elderly. That was the cause of 'magical exhaustion'. Powerful wizards and witches could put a lot more power into a single spell, had a huge advantage when pitting their prowess against another directly, were more likely to learn spells faster and they usually had more durable bodies too, but they couldn't always cast for a longer time. There was a reference to wizards of ancient times tiring much more quickly because of their lack of wands, 'likely because wands focus one's power, allowing less waste; the more wasteful one is with their magic, the greater the toll it takes on that person's body'. It made mention of time away from casting being important to a young wizard or witch's development, too.
…Wait, does that mean that making my body more durable will allow me to work more magic? That changes things; maybe I should intensify my physical training, especially the jogging, and begin some… resistance and dodge training like having Parvati, Lavender and Dean Banish things at me when they learn the spell. Having someone to practise with was very important, Harry realised, but his fellow First Years were not good enough yet to manage it. Perhaps Percy- wait. I could simply have someone, probably Dean, throw things at me physically. Dodgeball maybe? I may be a wizard, but I shouldn't forget to use muggle methods, too, when needed.
Apparently magicals' physical stats were Constitution-heavy, if he went by Dudley's Dungeons and Dragons board game, which Dudley had managed to get Petunia to allow him to play recently. Harry thought that on average, physical activity being the same, a wizard had higher physical strength and could run faster than a Muggle, but he couldn't be certain; on the other hand, considering just what Quidditch was like from what he had heard from Ronald Weasley's rants (Bludgers? Bah!), if magicals had had the same base durability as Muggles, he would have heard about hundreds of fatalities playing it.
Of course, Harry would also cast as often as he could, but if casting was like training a muscle like the book seemed to imply, he would need a rest day. Harry lamented the loss of one of the days of the week for spell practice, but come to think of it, he hadn't cast every day of the week for the past four to five years, so all of his life with deliberate magic – partially because of the terrible Voice, partially because he was constantly among people who didn't know about magic, so he hadn't got more than five or six days of magic practice a week at any time.
Even during the period he had been preparing for 'correcting' his relatives' behaviour, he had had his rest day because Petunia hadn't been busy, so she had kept an eye on him on every Friday for the whole day; thus, he had only had nights on Fridays, which he had quickly abandoned because he wouldn't get any sleep, and Petunia had always woken him up before seven in the morning. Anytime he had been punished with being locked in the cupboard, Harry had practised, but he had never been locked in for longer than a day at most, though they could and did keep him from getting out of the house.
Back to the book: regarding controlling the power in Transfiguration, a more precise amount than in Charms was usually necessary, and the book included a mathematical equation for helping in estimating the power needed. 'Transfiguration is more methodical, and is performed best by people who are just so. Charms need a more creative and uninhibited mind' was what the book explained about the difference in the effects of using more power between Charms and Transfiguration.
'Maybe I should try adjusting the power next, then call it a day, or at least learn more about Potions instead,' Harry thought.
He had dabbled a bit into sensing for and changing the flow of his magical energy (?) but it was really difficult, mainly because his magic was insignificant compared to what the entire castle exuded, so it was harder to find, despite it being inside him. Maybe in such an out-of-the-way place, it would be easier?
Harry managed to control the output of 'Lumos', though not very precisely, after around an hour of trying, according to 'Tempus'. He had managed to feel his magic, or whatever what he felt was, consistently… unfortunately, he would need a lot more practice, considering each attempt would take a lot of seconds.
Rather than studying for Potions, Harry elected to go back to the Library instead, this time to look for History texts, especially regarding Merlin and the witch hunts shortly before the Statute of Secrecy. While his enthusiasm for spells wasn't something bad in his own opinion, it had also distracted him from looking up something else he had wanted.
…By the time Harry had found some less biased-looking books, Dean entered the library. Harry waved him over, silently of course. "Would you like to study Wizarding history with me?" Harry asked Dean the moment the latter reached him.
Dean said, "Parvati convinced me to come and get you – you're overworking yourself, aren't you?" Squinting at Harry.
Harry shrugged, saying, "am I? Maybe you three are simply lazy…. It's 'persuaded me' by the way."
"Okay, she persuaded me I should get you," Dean said with a roll of his eyes, taking a look at Harry's stack of books… then made a double-take. "I'm gonna ask you something, mate, and I don't want you to misunderstand…. Are you mental? Isn't Binns enough?" Dean added, wide-eyed.
Harry rolled his eyes too, not bothering to correct Dean again(*2). He said, "it's precisely because Binns is useless that I'm self-studying Wizarding History. Besides, some of it is interesting when you don't have an idiot ghost lulling you to sleep."
Dean was looking at Harry, not saying anything. I should strike while the iron is hot. If you can't beat them, persuade them to join you, to paraphrase a saying.
Harry considered what to say for a moment, then leaned forward. He said, "look, mate. You do know that with how useless Binns is as a professor, we aren't going to pass our exams? We'll probably be fine this year, possibly the next too, but definitely not when it counts, with those 'owls' or whatever they are called. We should try self-study in History of Magic, so why don't you join me?"
Dean remained silent. Harry let him digest his words for a few seconds, then said, "look, I'm going to check out some of these books," gesturing at the stack of books in front of him, "then, we can go over them in a warmer place. Is that fine?"
Dean grinned, white teeth gleaming, in contrast to his really dark skin. He said, "those two will kill me," though his light tone belied his words.
Harry rolled his eyes, saying, "Don't be so melodramatic. I know that there's a studious mind there somewhere; don't let anyone stifle it," pointing at Dean's head.
Dean sniggered, saying, "so says you! Maybe I'd rather relax, not study History of all bloody things, on a Sunday at that! Besides, I still have to do McGonagall's essay; it's due in a few days!"
"Fine, how about this: I will help you with the Transfiguration essay afterwards, as long as you study History with me for at least an hour today," Harry said, sensing that Dean was about to say 'yes' and was only trying to milk the situation.
"Fine with me, mate," Dean said, a satisfied smirk on his face, "I'll even throw in checking out three of the books – I know it's no more than three for one person!"
Harry shook hands with Dean, sealing the deal. 'Joke's on you, Dean – the essay is a piece of cake as long as you've read The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 and keep the Transfiguration theory textbook to hand,' Harry thought to himself.
Harry and Dean ended up going to their dormitory to study history. Harry used his wand, saying 'Genero' several times, managing to Conjure two slightly deformed chairs and a mostly level table to avoid sitting on a bed, Vanishing any failed products, of course.
Dean was gaping at Harry. He said, "aren't we supposed to learn Free Vanishment and Free Conjuration in fifth or sixth year or something?"
Harry shrugged – he learned at his own pace. That blasted Reparifarge was still something he was having a hard time with, though: he couldn't revert anything more complicated than matchsticks to needles back into matchsticks yet. Wasn't it supposed to be easier than Conjuration? Anyway, it was high time for Dean to focus. "Get your head in the game, mate!" Harry said, his eyes narrowing without his conscious decision, putting the three books on the table.
Dean sighed, but he took out the other three books and started skimming them.
… Nearly two hours later, both of the boys were, or at least looked, knackered. Dean lifted his head from the book he was looking at and said, "I never realised that the opinions of the witch hunts were so… divided from a wizarding perspective. I mean, we have four different books by four authors here, and they've made different conclusions, have many disagreements… even the existence of supposed historical people like Wendelin the Weird is disputed! Some say that the witch hunts were waged in Britain by only a few people during the sixteen hundreds. In the seventeen hundreds, a few decades after the Statute of Secrecy, witch hunts were supposedly outlawed!" Sounding tired but still somewhat energetic.
"Considering the date the Flame-Freezing Charm was supposedly invented," Harry said, "that's no surprise to me," explaining how Wendelin the Weird had apparently lived and died before the Flame-Freezing Charm had been invented, if one compared the dates.
Harry wasn't sure about the other parts, though. Percy had seemed rather certain of what he had said about the witch hunts, but he could be biased, or simply certain in wrong conclusions of his, or referring to the rest of Europe. It was causing him a headache.
Dean said, "really? That's… very suspicious. Should we try to get to the truth?"
"Maybe, but not now," Harry said, "let's go to the Great Hall to get some tea and snacks – I don't feel like studying a moment longer for now!"
Dean yawned and stretched, then said, "all right – these chairs are really uncomfortable, anyway. Just don't forget to help me with the essay!"
Harry snorted, saying, "I haven't forgotten, don't worry."
Speaking of forgetting, Harry had decided to read 'Hogwarts: a History' at some point. Not that day, though; he was nearly exhausted.
…At half past eight at night, Harry begged off helping Dean with the Transfiguration essay because he was too tired – he promised it would be the first thing to do after lessons on Monday. Dean didn't seem to mind too much; probably because he was tired, too. Harry brushed his teeth, did his Occlumency exercises (with a shorter duration than usual), went to his bed, got under the covers and before he knew it, it was morning.
Harry did most of his morning routine, including calisthenics and a seventy-plus-minute jog without stopping – the added weight of the books had made things much harder before, after all, apparently. He showered after that and headed to class. They had Double Potions first thing in the morning, then flying, then Professor Flitwick, so it was going to be a rather eventful day most likely.
…As Harry was waiting for Professor Snape next to Dean outside the classroom, he heard Malfoy speaking to Zabini in a whiny voice. 'What is Malfoy whinging about now?' Harry thought to himself and considered getting a little bit closer, until he suddenly didn't have to.
"Why does Professor Snape have to let incompetents into his class? We could be so far ahead by now!" Malfoy said to Zabini, his loud voice carrying to everyone and gesturing with his hands animatedly.
The blond whiner was giving looks towards Seamus Finnigan, though he also looked at Ronald and Annabel Entwhistle. Ronald hissed, but managed not to react other than a few muttered words… which caused Granger, who was near him, to say, "language, Ronald!"
Only Professor Snape's arrival saved the rest of them from the bickering; he also removed one point each from Granger and Ronald 'for bothering the rest of the students'.
Finnigan very nearly protested the removal, but he controlled himself, saying, "nothing, Sir."
On the other hand, Ronald and Granger actually had some self-control, so they said nothing.
Once everyone was seated, Professor Snape said, "in spite of examples of students taking a dangerous subject lightly with sheer dunderheaded carelessness-"
A few laughs from Malfoy and Zabini sounded, the latter sounding even more mean-spirited than the former, though a flat look from Professor Snape silenced them – it wasn't even a glare. The man continued, saying, "as I was saying, from this time on, I will allow you to brew again as long as you pass a small test; nothing other than the Cure for Boils until I am certain that all of you are taking this seriously."
Ronald and Finnigan groaned, but another look from Professor Snape silenced them too. Said professor asked a few questions related to brewing safety, mainly to Finnigan, though he asked some others too. Once everyone had replied to the professor's satisfaction, he set them on brewing the Cure for Boils once again. Of course, Harry's attempt ended up earning him an O.
As Harry was leaving the classroom, he saw Granger tearing into Ronald, blaming him for making her lose a House point. Harry rolled his eyes and sped up.
A short-haired and literally hawk-eyed woman by the name of madam Rolanda Hooch greeted the students, then started giving them instructions. This woman seemed to be in her sixties, but considering magicals' aging rates, she could be a hundred for all he knew. "Pick one broomstick each," Madam Hooch said, and everyone scrambled to get one without any half-broken-off twigs, including Harry.
The instructor told them to keep a certain distance from one another. Then, she told them to put the broomsticks on the ground and say 'up!' in order to get them to jump into the air next to their hands.
Harry looked at the school broomstick, one of the better-maintained ones at that, with suspicion. This thing is supposed to take me to the air? He said, "up," but the broom only rolled over a bit.
He knew that to magic, intent was important. Harry emptied his mind of his doubts by concentrating on half-remembered dreams in which he had been flying, then said 'up' again, and the broom lifted itself next to his left hand.
When he checked the rest of the class, all of the Slytherins and most of the Gryffindors had managed the feat – only Granger and Longbottom were still trying and failing. Fed up, Harry went up to Granger, saying, "are you serious? You need to clear your mind of doubts and simply expect it to obey; surely, you can do that, Granger…?" In a condescending and prickly tone; he didn't like the fact that Granger constantly glared at him, nor her constant bickering with that other idiot, and was tired of waiting for her to get it.
Granger made a sound that reminded Harry of a growl and tried again, getting the broomstick near her to slowly rise to hand height. She went up to Longbottom and told him something before going back to her position, but it took him another few minutes until the advice or encouragement or whatever worked. 'He really doesn't want to fly, apparently!' Harry thought – not that he could blame Longbottom for that.
He could blame Granger for not making an 'Airplane!' reference after the opportunity he had given her, though… Harry had practically served it to her on a silver platter! Maybe she didn't like American films, or 'movies' as they called them. Oh, well. He also felt like he was being watched, but could see nobody looking at him among the other students, nor was Madam Hooch paying any attention to Harry at the moment.
Once Madam Hooch had corrected their grips, pronouncing Harry's as 'decent, though the reversed grip is a slightly unusual touch', she told them to kick off. As if by miracle, nobody (I'm looking at you, Longbottom!) did anything clumsy, though Harry was having a really hard time controlling his broomstick correctly. In the end, Harry proved to be a cautious but imprecise flier. The ones doing the best were Dean and Granger(!) in Gryffindor, and Malfoy along with a girl called… Grass-Green or something in Slytherin. Ronald Weasley was doing well, though not as well as the four aforementioned students and certainly not as well as he had bragged; same with Seamus Finnigan.
Other than Longbottom, he could tell Harry himself was the worst flier – he could multitask to a level no Muggle would ever be capable of thanks to his being magical, his Occlumency practice and years of honing his Casting Trance and Free Trance (the less focused, more free trance he used not when casting, but when he wanted to search for something), so he could fly just as well -er, badly- while looking at the others, despite having a semi-paranoid gut feeling of being watched.
Madam Hooch was giving everyone tips, both individually and together, making rounds of the field, which was not the Quidditch Pitch for some reason; maybe the pitch was booked by one of the House Teams? The feeling of being watched had subsided… then it clicked in his mind. 'Are the Quidditch captains around watching for fresh talent?' Harry thought.
It would explain why they were not in the Pitch, but in a place with full view from the castle, where they could be observed without being able to tell anything was amiss. (*3)
Maybe Harry should put the Slowing Charm on higher priority and add the Cushioning Charm to the queue to make sure there would be no broken bones in the future, though.
"Wingardium Leviosa! Make the 'gar' nice and long, and don't confuse your words! Baruffio learned that the hard way when he said 'Bovite Incantatem' rather than 'Finite Incantatem' and ended up with a Conjured buffalo on his chest, centuries ago… somehow," Flitwick said, jolly and smiling, but the serious look he adopted for a few moments showed that he meant the warning fully.
From what Harry had learned of Baruffio, the man had never learned his lesson, so he had 'learned the hard way'… a grand sum of nothing; it wasn't just his speech impediment that made him so incompetent. Well, at least his far cleverer cousin, Athena Ross, had made something out of those failures, more than once at that. Having lived only decades before the Statute of Secrecy started, some of their achievements or 'achievements' were included in the books Harry had read the day before.
After Flitwick made a demonstration of the spell, Harry entered his Casting Trance, made the wand motion and said, "Wingardium Leviosa"… barely making the feather twitch. He did the spell again, but nothing changed. Maybe I need to be less… focused? Harry tried without entering his trance state, and the feather moved a bit more – maybe. He decided to visualise the feather's potential movement, but it barely changed anything.
Transfiguration is more methodical, and is performed best by people who are just so. Charms need a more creative and uninhibited mind.
…Could it be that simple? Harry breathed in and out, then used his knowledge of Occlumency to concentrate on one thing: the feather. He was the feather. He was flying, flying away….
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry shouted, making the feather do a revolution, then drop.
'I'm on the right track,' Harry thought to himself. He ignored something that Professor Flitwick said and tried again a few times, until the feather was hovering a few feet off the ground.
Harry heard a strange sound forward and below. He looked down, only to see Professor Flitwick – come to think of it, that sound was like a throat clearing. The professor said, "please pay attention, Ha- Mr. Potter. I said that I awarded you two points for getting close to getting the spell. This time, it was better, though it was more like a Hover Charm. Three points to Gryffindor. I recommend that you try to control the feather's movement better."
Harry mulled that over, saying, "thank you, Professor Flitwick."
The professor went toward Granger and Ronald, saying something about 'eight points to Gryffindor for getting it near-perfectly', but Harry didn't care much at the moment. He made the wand motion, concentrating on the feather being one with him and controlling the flight rather than hovering in place. The feather shot off as if shot with a cannon, bouncing off the ceiling and nearly landing in Harry's eye. On the bright side, he managed to keep the foul words contained under his breath, so he didn't lose any points.
Again. Harry emptied his mind of anything but the feather, then did the rest… the feather flew in spiral patterns, but Harry managed to make it change how it moved with his mind. For Charms, it might be better not to think so much as feel. He said, "Finite", willing the flight to end; so it did. He Summoned the feather wandlessly, making it come to him, tiring him out a bit. Fortunately, Professor Flitwick was looking elsewhere then.
He cast 'Wingardium Leviosa' a final time, making the feather fly in circular patterns around Flitwick. The short professor clapped, saying, "brilliant, excellent! Five points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter!"
Granger gave Harry the stink eye once again, but this time, she seemed more ruffled than usual, though Harry had provoked her earlier, admittedly. As Harry was gathering his stuff after the lesson, Granger came near him, saying, "I don't quite get why you are doing so well, Harry Potter – you are an obvious slacker, but the Professors are favouring you!"
Harry was flabbergasted at the rubbish that was coming out of Granger's mouth, which she apparently took as confirmation of her idiotic ideas. She harrumphed and left. Harry shook his head and left too, though the more he thought of Granger, the more he got angry. He tried to use his usual methods to calm down, but nothing worked – or maybe that was his stomach protesting.
Oh shit. Shouldn't have tried that pumpkin juice at breakfast…. Shit indeed – it was Harry's large intestine that was bothering him, so he went to the nearest loo and got stuck there for a while. Harry didn't mind a bit of toilet humour, but pain in the literal arse wasn't exactly something he liked to feel. Hopefully, he wouldn't miss the Halloween feast because of that bit of bad luck.
…Hours later, Harry was washing his hands when a stink that far surpassed anything he had ever created in the toilet reached his nose. At the same time, a strong source of magic reached his other sense, so strong he didn't need to concentrate to feel it. 'That can't be good,' Harry thought to himself.
By the time he started walking away, it was too late; a creature unlike any Harry had ever seen was in front of the door.
It was a horrible sight. Taller than Hagrid – maybe twelve feet, its skin was a dull, granite grey; its great lumpy body like a boulder, with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs, thick as tree trunks with flat, horned feet. The smell coming from it was truly and absolutely putrid from up close. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were too long. (*4)
In fact, it looked a lot like the picture of a Mountain Troll from the Fantastic Beasts book! Harry could feel his hands and legs shake in his fear and… something else. How would he survive that?
* The 'Tempus' spell is fanon IIRC, but it's not bad fanon, so I don't have any compunctions against using it… with a twist. Muahaha.
As for the cliffhanger in the end… muahahahaha!
*2 It's 'persuade [one] to do [something]' or 'convince [one that one should do something]/[one of something] and so on. Not the other way around. Dean managed to get it wrong both times. xD
*3 Yeah, it's McGonagall, not the captains, but Harry has no way to find that out at the moment. He can and will reach the wrong conclusions due to a coincidence, bad data or his own flaws sometimes.
*4 I took that part from book 1 of the series. Not quite verbatim, though.