Harry fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillows and slept right
through breakfast, and would have continued if Ron had not walked into the
dormitory and sprinkled Harry with some cold water from his wand tip.
"Wha-who-huh?" Harry asked stupidly.
"Get up, mate, it's time for Charms and Hermione is going crazy, she says you'll miss the new lesson; Flitwick's teaching something new today, I think."
Harry got up quickly, changed into his robes halfhazardly, swung his bag over his shoulder and ran after Ron all the way to Flitwick's room and scuttled inside just before Flitwick cleared his throat and began.
"Today we shall begin to learn the most complicated of all Charms magic taught in this school. It is so immensely difficult," for a little wizard, Harry thought he possessed an extremely immense vocabulary.
"It is so immensely difficult," continued Flitwick, "that the bulk of our procedures will carry on into, and probably right through seventh year. Like all magics, a select few people are naturally good at this type of work, namely creating your own charms.
"This is a very unique type of work. Like the Patronus Charm, the type you create depends on your character type. What is unique is that you will only be able to invent a certain type of Charm, no other, but . . . but if someone else has already invented a charm you will be able to use it. I believe that the Dark Wizard, Mallastor, invented the Cruciatus Curse, which happens to be not an actual curse, as most think it to be, but a very deep and complicated charm. Incidentally, Mallastor was expelled from Hogwarts when he invented this charm, and became known as the Dark Lord, though this was hundreds of years ago.
"Luckily he was killed by a wizard named Alexander Mallory, his own cousin, who heard what his plans were, and set out to kill him, which he managed by taking a thing called a musket. He shot him through the heart.
"But enough of this nonsense, we will now begin the process."
As Harry listened to Flitwick's more and more complicated speech he felt certain that he would have none of the natural talents he displayed in Quidditch and Apparation. In fact, he hardly had a clue what Flitwick was talking about. The only person paying enough attention that was possible to notice was Hermione.
Ron was staring at the back of her head; Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were whispering to one another; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were gazing off into space; and Harry was looking at everyone else. Only Hermione had her head cupped in her palm and was lapping up all of Flitwick's words in rapt attention.
Harry's head fell into his hands and from there, onto his arms, and his eyes drooped and closed.
How I wish I could sleep. . . . Harry thought sleepily.
He yawned and lifted his eyes, but they were so heavy. . . .
He closed them one more time, and immediately sank into sleep. . . .
He was alone with Hermione under a balcony in the courtyard. . . . They were talking to each other very deeply, but he could not make out what they were saying; he had a third person view of the whole thing. . . .
Suddenly Hermione dashed at Harry and wrapped her arms around his neck and began to sob into his shoulder. He could see himself patting her on the top of her head gently and rubbed her back, and after a few moments she straightened out and stopped crying.
As they turned to go, footsteps rang in the yard, and three people appeared: Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.
Suddenly Harry's hearing became clearer and he managed to make out exactly what they were saying: Not much.
Malfoy laughed and pointed his wand at Hermione.
"Feiria!" he yelled clearly, at the top of his voice.
Harry suddenly felt an enormous surge of pain in his scar, and yelling in pain, he woke up. The Charms classroom swam into view, but a white light that was so strong it made Harry's eyes squint, was shining, and his scar was burning so badly he had to will himself not to faint or be sick.
Hermione looked over him, her eyes wide with fear.
"What happened, Harry? Is it Voldemort? Did you see something? What — "
"I'll tell you later," said Harry, wincing as his scar burned sharply. He dimly heard Parvati tell Lavender, "Look how bright his scar is. . . ."
Flitwick looked over his pile of books and said, "Mr. Potter, are you all right?" in his squeaky voice.
"No-I-I mean, yeah, yeah I'm fine," Harry stuttered.
Truth be told, Harry wasn't feeling fine at all; on the contrary, he felt weak and feverish and wished he could go lie down on his four poster bed and never wake up again, but that really was beyond hope right now.
Harry finished the lesson sleepily, not taking in a word Flitwick said about inventing charms and the famous witches and famous wizards who created famous charms, and hardly heard the bell ring for the end of class, and just managed to make out Flitwick telling them to research about the inventing of charms in the library, and he queued them up for signatures for Madame Pince, the librarian, so they could use the Restricted Section of the library, a part that Harry had never been allowed in for school work, though had chanced through there several times with his Invisibility Cloak.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried out of Charms class and proceeded to the entrance hall, where they once again queued up in a line to go to Hogsmeade for Apparation lessons.
They passed by Filch and strode down the road to Hogsmeade, chatting about what they hoped would be happening this lesson. Ron had already began Apparating throughout the room, meaning to say that with a feeble crack he would appear suddenly next to someone else, or perhaps on top of their shoes, causing slight chaos among the class, and also causing Draco Malfoy to snigger.
Though Harry couldn't tell exactly what Malfoy was sniggering at, as he couldn't even get 'cracking' as Ron liked to call it.
Hermione was doing better, though she too was unable to get out of the room under normal circumstances; she once landed in Dervish and Banges' cellar room, empty at the moment, and once by luck, it seemed, Apparated into the receiving room where they were all aiming at.
But best in the whole class was Harry, who was already Apparating to the farthest receiving room Hogwarts had, and filled with an assortment of colors and shapes, making it harder to picture.
As they rounded the last corner and crossed the street to the Apparation 'test room' as it was called.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the room to find it full, and they had to cram into the back of the room for what would turn out to be an interesting lesson. Interesting, not in the material, but in what would happen shortly after the beginning.
Malfoy, who was standing close by them, motioned and they approached warily.
"What d'you want, Malfoy?" Hermione asked sharply.
"Nothing that would interest a Mudblood, I'm sure, neither would the weasel over there — "
"Can't you possibly get any new insults after six years? It's really pathetic, you might want to know," sneered Ron.
"Don't call me pathetic, Weasley," Malfoy warned him.
"Well," said Ron amicably enough, but Harry noticed his hand clenched around his wand under his robes.
"Well, it is rather pathetic, you're so unorigi — "
Malfoy suddenly clenched his fist and slugged it into Ron's chest.
"Oof!" Ron grunted in pain, and then collapsed on the floor holding his stomach.
"You'll regret that, Malfoy," said Harry quietly.
"What? Punching him out? As he said before, he is rather pathetic. I mean, one sock in the chest and he's out like a light, I mean, that is pathetic, he's — "
He broke off as something collided violently with his chest and made Malfoy double over and fall to the floor. Harry viewed the scene calmly, and muttered to Hermione, "Told you he'd regret that, Hermione,"
Malfoy was stirring, and he seemed to motion to Crabbe and Goyle, but they didn't notice him so Harry walked over to them.
"Your boss's on the floor, he wants you two to beat me up, I think,"
They looked at him stupidly for a few moments until Harry's words sunk in, and then they slowly lumbered over to Malfoy, who was lying on the floor net to Ron —
But Ron was already up and dusting himself off. He was also whispering to Hermione slightly. Harry mentally raised an eyebrow, but remembering what happened last night. . . . He stifled a grin.
They returned to school after two hours for lunch, and then Harry bid Ron and Hermione good-bye and went to his own Potions class in Hogsmeade.
As Harry walked down the path from Hogwarts he remembered his talk with Aetius and the sad story he had told him afterward. Hate for Grindelwald rose inside Harry like hot flames, choking him and making him unconsciously grind his teeth in frustration. He remembered that Dumbledore had defeated him 'in single combat'
Harry didn't realize that his feet had already brought him to A Cauldron Maker's Best.
He entered to see a strange sight: Aetius was bent over something, his back to Harry, and his head was sunk into . . . a Pensieve.
"Aetius?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed; he had only seen one Pensieve in his entire, if not that extensive, wizarding career, and that one Pensieve belonged to Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the age and headmaster of the best school of magic in the world.
"Aetius?" Harry asked again. "Aetius!"
Aetius lifted his head out of the Pensieve and turned around. Harry stared: Aetius's head was covered with a silvery, foamy, flowing, solid-wind substance, which Harry realized was the contents of the Pensieve.
Aetius's expression was the worst he had ever seen. His face seemed to sag with unhappiness that for some reason chilled Harry's back and he shivered.
"Wh-what happened?" Harry asked.
"Remember my story, Mr. Potter?" began Aetius tiredly. Harry nodded. Aetius jerked his head in the direction of the Pensieve morosely.
"Dumbledore wanted you to see it, he spoke to me a little before you arrived here, and I always listen to Dumbledore, so come to the back with me . . . Very good, Mr. Potter. Now take a deep breath and put your head right in . . . You-you'll see everything. . . ." for the first time his voice cracked.
Harry nodded and obeyed. Looking in the Pensieve he could dimly see long lines of moving soldiers, with Dumbledore at the head. . . . Taking a long breath he sucked in as much air as he could and plunged his head into the Pensieve.
* * * AN:thanx so much to the guys who've sent me reviews already, I had no idea how encouraging it is to get them. Also my new law (you know, not law like 'police' but law as in 'Murphy's Law') well it's that every ten reviews you get one flame. Hope I'm overestimating, but it's all up to you.
"Wha-who-huh?" Harry asked stupidly.
"Get up, mate, it's time for Charms and Hermione is going crazy, she says you'll miss the new lesson; Flitwick's teaching something new today, I think."
Harry got up quickly, changed into his robes halfhazardly, swung his bag over his shoulder and ran after Ron all the way to Flitwick's room and scuttled inside just before Flitwick cleared his throat and began.
"Today we shall begin to learn the most complicated of all Charms magic taught in this school. It is so immensely difficult," for a little wizard, Harry thought he possessed an extremely immense vocabulary.
"It is so immensely difficult," continued Flitwick, "that the bulk of our procedures will carry on into, and probably right through seventh year. Like all magics, a select few people are naturally good at this type of work, namely creating your own charms.
"This is a very unique type of work. Like the Patronus Charm, the type you create depends on your character type. What is unique is that you will only be able to invent a certain type of Charm, no other, but . . . but if someone else has already invented a charm you will be able to use it. I believe that the Dark Wizard, Mallastor, invented the Cruciatus Curse, which happens to be not an actual curse, as most think it to be, but a very deep and complicated charm. Incidentally, Mallastor was expelled from Hogwarts when he invented this charm, and became known as the Dark Lord, though this was hundreds of years ago.
"Luckily he was killed by a wizard named Alexander Mallory, his own cousin, who heard what his plans were, and set out to kill him, which he managed by taking a thing called a musket. He shot him through the heart.
"But enough of this nonsense, we will now begin the process."
As Harry listened to Flitwick's more and more complicated speech he felt certain that he would have none of the natural talents he displayed in Quidditch and Apparation. In fact, he hardly had a clue what Flitwick was talking about. The only person paying enough attention that was possible to notice was Hermione.
Ron was staring at the back of her head; Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were whispering to one another; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were gazing off into space; and Harry was looking at everyone else. Only Hermione had her head cupped in her palm and was lapping up all of Flitwick's words in rapt attention.
Harry's head fell into his hands and from there, onto his arms, and his eyes drooped and closed.
How I wish I could sleep. . . . Harry thought sleepily.
He yawned and lifted his eyes, but they were so heavy. . . .
He closed them one more time, and immediately sank into sleep. . . .
He was alone with Hermione under a balcony in the courtyard. . . . They were talking to each other very deeply, but he could not make out what they were saying; he had a third person view of the whole thing. . . .
Suddenly Hermione dashed at Harry and wrapped her arms around his neck and began to sob into his shoulder. He could see himself patting her on the top of her head gently and rubbed her back, and after a few moments she straightened out and stopped crying.
As they turned to go, footsteps rang in the yard, and three people appeared: Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.
Suddenly Harry's hearing became clearer and he managed to make out exactly what they were saying: Not much.
Malfoy laughed and pointed his wand at Hermione.
"Feiria!" he yelled clearly, at the top of his voice.
Harry suddenly felt an enormous surge of pain in his scar, and yelling in pain, he woke up. The Charms classroom swam into view, but a white light that was so strong it made Harry's eyes squint, was shining, and his scar was burning so badly he had to will himself not to faint or be sick.
Hermione looked over him, her eyes wide with fear.
"What happened, Harry? Is it Voldemort? Did you see something? What — "
"I'll tell you later," said Harry, wincing as his scar burned sharply. He dimly heard Parvati tell Lavender, "Look how bright his scar is. . . ."
Flitwick looked over his pile of books and said, "Mr. Potter, are you all right?" in his squeaky voice.
"No-I-I mean, yeah, yeah I'm fine," Harry stuttered.
Truth be told, Harry wasn't feeling fine at all; on the contrary, he felt weak and feverish and wished he could go lie down on his four poster bed and never wake up again, but that really was beyond hope right now.
Harry finished the lesson sleepily, not taking in a word Flitwick said about inventing charms and the famous witches and famous wizards who created famous charms, and hardly heard the bell ring for the end of class, and just managed to make out Flitwick telling them to research about the inventing of charms in the library, and he queued them up for signatures for Madame Pince, the librarian, so they could use the Restricted Section of the library, a part that Harry had never been allowed in for school work, though had chanced through there several times with his Invisibility Cloak.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried out of Charms class and proceeded to the entrance hall, where they once again queued up in a line to go to Hogsmeade for Apparation lessons.
They passed by Filch and strode down the road to Hogsmeade, chatting about what they hoped would be happening this lesson. Ron had already began Apparating throughout the room, meaning to say that with a feeble crack he would appear suddenly next to someone else, or perhaps on top of their shoes, causing slight chaos among the class, and also causing Draco Malfoy to snigger.
Though Harry couldn't tell exactly what Malfoy was sniggering at, as he couldn't even get 'cracking' as Ron liked to call it.
Hermione was doing better, though she too was unable to get out of the room under normal circumstances; she once landed in Dervish and Banges' cellar room, empty at the moment, and once by luck, it seemed, Apparated into the receiving room where they were all aiming at.
But best in the whole class was Harry, who was already Apparating to the farthest receiving room Hogwarts had, and filled with an assortment of colors and shapes, making it harder to picture.
As they rounded the last corner and crossed the street to the Apparation 'test room' as it was called.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the room to find it full, and they had to cram into the back of the room for what would turn out to be an interesting lesson. Interesting, not in the material, but in what would happen shortly after the beginning.
Malfoy, who was standing close by them, motioned and they approached warily.
"What d'you want, Malfoy?" Hermione asked sharply.
"Nothing that would interest a Mudblood, I'm sure, neither would the weasel over there — "
"Can't you possibly get any new insults after six years? It's really pathetic, you might want to know," sneered Ron.
"Don't call me pathetic, Weasley," Malfoy warned him.
"Well," said Ron amicably enough, but Harry noticed his hand clenched around his wand under his robes.
"Well, it is rather pathetic, you're so unorigi — "
Malfoy suddenly clenched his fist and slugged it into Ron's chest.
"Oof!" Ron grunted in pain, and then collapsed on the floor holding his stomach.
"You'll regret that, Malfoy," said Harry quietly.
"What? Punching him out? As he said before, he is rather pathetic. I mean, one sock in the chest and he's out like a light, I mean, that is pathetic, he's — "
He broke off as something collided violently with his chest and made Malfoy double over and fall to the floor. Harry viewed the scene calmly, and muttered to Hermione, "Told you he'd regret that, Hermione,"
Malfoy was stirring, and he seemed to motion to Crabbe and Goyle, but they didn't notice him so Harry walked over to them.
"Your boss's on the floor, he wants you two to beat me up, I think,"
They looked at him stupidly for a few moments until Harry's words sunk in, and then they slowly lumbered over to Malfoy, who was lying on the floor net to Ron —
But Ron was already up and dusting himself off. He was also whispering to Hermione slightly. Harry mentally raised an eyebrow, but remembering what happened last night. . . . He stifled a grin.
They returned to school after two hours for lunch, and then Harry bid Ron and Hermione good-bye and went to his own Potions class in Hogsmeade.
As Harry walked down the path from Hogwarts he remembered his talk with Aetius and the sad story he had told him afterward. Hate for Grindelwald rose inside Harry like hot flames, choking him and making him unconsciously grind his teeth in frustration. He remembered that Dumbledore had defeated him 'in single combat'
Harry didn't realize that his feet had already brought him to A Cauldron Maker's Best.
He entered to see a strange sight: Aetius was bent over something, his back to Harry, and his head was sunk into . . . a Pensieve.
"Aetius?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed; he had only seen one Pensieve in his entire, if not that extensive, wizarding career, and that one Pensieve belonged to Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the age and headmaster of the best school of magic in the world.
"Aetius?" Harry asked again. "Aetius!"
Aetius lifted his head out of the Pensieve and turned around. Harry stared: Aetius's head was covered with a silvery, foamy, flowing, solid-wind substance, which Harry realized was the contents of the Pensieve.
Aetius's expression was the worst he had ever seen. His face seemed to sag with unhappiness that for some reason chilled Harry's back and he shivered.
"Wh-what happened?" Harry asked.
"Remember my story, Mr. Potter?" began Aetius tiredly. Harry nodded. Aetius jerked his head in the direction of the Pensieve morosely.
"Dumbledore wanted you to see it, he spoke to me a little before you arrived here, and I always listen to Dumbledore, so come to the back with me . . . Very good, Mr. Potter. Now take a deep breath and put your head right in . . . You-you'll see everything. . . ." for the first time his voice cracked.
Harry nodded and obeyed. Looking in the Pensieve he could dimly see long lines of moving soldiers, with Dumbledore at the head. . . . Taking a long breath he sucked in as much air as he could and plunged his head into the Pensieve.
* * * AN:thanx so much to the guys who've sent me reviews already, I had no idea how encouraging it is to get them. Also my new law (you know, not law like 'police' but law as in 'Murphy's Law') well it's that every ten reviews you get one flame. Hope I'm overestimating, but it's all up to you.