'How can I tell when I've run out of invisible ink?'
(Steven Wright)
CHAPTER 4 – I like to confuse people on my own merit
Harry had not been present at the welcoming feast and he only realised as they turned up at the defence classroom that he had no idea who the new teacher would be.
He didn't want to even think about the suffering he'd gone through last year as a result of their most recent teacher. Professor Umbridge had been a true nightmare.
"You haven't given me any ink."
"Oh, you won't need ink."…
…Searing pain cutting into the back of his hand…
"Hand."…
"Tut, tut, I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet."
"Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow…"
He shook his head determinedly to dispel the memory. Surely this year's professor would have to be an improvement.
Absentmindedly rubbing the faint scar on the back of his right hand, Harry nudged Hermione's shoulder.
"Who's the new teacher?"
He asked, trying to mouth the words clearly and gesturing at the door to the classroom.
Hermione blinked at him for a second, her eyes flicking to his right hand before she gave him an encouraging smile.
"Of course, you wouldn't have heard…"
She was cut off by the arrival of the new teacher, and anything she might have said to take the edge off the surprise was lost.
The wizard was quite tall but gangly, his robes swept around him in a cascade of purple, interspersed with golden stars.
His short grey hair was adorned with a streak of red that would have done Tonks proud, and his closely cut beard had been coloured to match.
"Well! If it isn't Miss Granger, and Mr Potter too. You're a tad late chaps, do hurry along inside and take your seats."
Hermione nodded quickly and dragged a gawking Harry into the classroom.
"It's Aberforth Dumbledore, Harry! The headmaster's brother!"
Harry just nodded, still too surprised to do anything else.
They didn't have to wait long before Aberforth Dumbledore entered the classroom. His robe was flapping dramatically with a flamboyance that would have done Gilderoy Lockhart proud.
Harry thought that the entrance he made was a bit over the top, but it seemed to suit the man, he had a look of amusement on his face as he took to the front of the classroom.
"Good Morning class. As you are all aware I am your new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Please address me as Professor Aberforth, I don't wish to be a source of confusion because of my brother. I like to confuse people on my own merit."
There was a mild chuckle around the classroom and the colourful professor grinned widely.
"Seriously though. We're here to learn, I have a solemn obligation to teach you everything that you need in order to defend yourselves, what with Voldemort on the loose."
The flinches from most of the class went seemingly unnoticed by the new DADA teacher but Harry had the distinct impression that the eerily familiar blue eyes lingered on those who had not flinched.
"Let's get cracking! Who wants to demonstrate disarming?"
Several hands rose to the air including all those who had been in Harry's DA classes the year before.
"Neville Longbottom. Why don't you do the honours."
Said Aberforth, gesturing to the front of the class and taking up a duelling stance.
Neville strode forward looking uncharacteristically confident.
Harry couldn't help but smile as the mild Gryffindor successfully took the professor's wand with a good strong Expelliarmus.
"Well done Longbottom."
Said Aberforth striding slowly towards him.
Just as he got near the professor leapt forwards as if to attack.
Neville stumbled backwards in surprise and hurriedly shouted "Stupefy!"
Harry watched, as stunned as the rest of the class, and with Neville's shout in his ears felt the memories engulf him again.
'He's dot alone! He's still god be!'…
'Neville – no – go back to Ron –'…
'STUBEFY!'…
'STUBEFY STUBE-'…
'Longbottom? …Why I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents boy.'
'I DOE YOU HAB!'…
…
'DON'D GIB ID DO DEM HARRY!'…
'Crucio!'
"Harry!"
Hermione's elbow in his ribs jolted Harry out of the memory and he blinked up at the steady blue gaze that bore down on him from Professor Aberforth.
"If you don't mind answering my question Mr Potter, I was wondering if you could tell me how spells can be used in combination to aid you in a duel."
Harry shook his head slightly and swallowed. Had Aberforth not been told about the silencing potion?
When Hermione nudged him again he quickly picked up his quill and scribbled an answer.
As he handed it to the professor he noticed that the whole class was staring at him and he winced.
'If you can disarm your opponent then you can easily stun him and he can't block it, also, sending quick-fire spells helps to make it more difficult for your opponent to react.'
Professor Aberforth read his answer aloud to the class.
"Mr Potter is quite right. And that is why we will be practising this particular skill for the next week. Now I'd like you to take out your books and read the chapter on spell combinations. Go!"
There was a mad scramble for books and Harry gladly sank back in his chair opening the book and trying to focus on the words that swam before his eyes.
He felt a wave of fatigue sweep over him and the gentle thoughts that caressed his mind lulled him away into a trance.
'Safely under lock and key Harry Potter, protection from old Dumbledore and escape from those filthy muggles. Back among those who actually care for you. Do you feel safe, Harry? But more, do you feel happy? Is this the treatment you deserve? To be ushered into a gilded cage without so much as a by your leave? Do you honestly believe that they care about you? You're a fool Harry Potter…'
Harry slammed his barriers down, he couldn't allow that voice to continue, he panted for breath at the effort it had taken to push Voldemort away and once more wished that he'd learnt more about Occlumency when he'd had the chance, before Sirius…
He shook his head violently. He couldn't let his mind wander again.
When he glanced up he saw Aberforth Dumbledore regarding him critically and he shivered.
"Alright class, there's only a couple of minutes left of class and since it's the first day back I'll let you go early, but make sure you finish reading that chapter. We'll be putting it to practice next lesson. Mr Potter, please stay behind for a moment."
Harry watched longingly after Ron and Hermione as they left shooting him concerned glances. Then he turned back looking into the blue gaze that mirrored the headmaster's.
"No need to worry Mr Potter. My brother asked me to assess you before you carry on any further with your classes. You see, there might be a problem with some of what you're asked to do. Please, could you cast me your patronus charm so that I can see it."
Harry frowned in confusion but drew his wand. Summoning a happy memory was difficult and for a while he floundered.
Professor Aberforth broke into his thoughts.
"All right, all right, never mind that for now Mr Potter. Simply cast me the levitation charm on that book on my desk."
With a silent sigh Harry raised his wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" He said, with a perfected swish and flick motion, although no sound of his incantation could be heard.
The book remained stubbornly on the desk and Harry realised that his wand had simply emitted a flurry of red and gold sparks, just like the first time he'd held it in Ollivander's.
He raised a confused eyebrow at his professor.
Aberforth sighed and sat on the desk taking the book in his hands.
"It is as my brother feared."
He said, kicking the table in front of him in the manner of a disgruntled schoolboy.
"I'm afraid we have a bit of a situation Mr Potter. Any charm requires correct pronunciation, as you'll no doubt remember from your earliest classes with Professor Flitwick. Spell casting is no simple trick."
Harry felt his heart stumble in his chest and icy dread came over him. He wondered how he would defend himself if he couldn't cast spells.
The professor's gnarled old hand fell on Harry's shoulder and Harry noticed that there were deeply ingrained burrs on the skin where quidditch beaters' protective gloves were worn. He smiled briefly as he remembered a time in his first year that Fred and George had been comparing the skin on their hands and arguing over who had the tougher skin. It was a beater's badge of honour to have deformed hands, at least that's what the twins had told him…
"So you see Mr Potter, we must find some way round the problem if you are to participate meaningfully in all of your NEWT classes."
Harry dragged his mind back to the issue at hand, of course it would affect his spell casting, he had only just been thinking about Neville's failed stunning curses at the Department of Mysteries, he was surprised that he hadn't thought of it before.
"So, my brother and I have discussed the matter and have a plan."
Harry turned back to his professor, who had raised his voice to get his attention, flushing a little in embarrassment.
"You have witnessed my brother's displays of wandless magic haven't you?"
Harry nodded, thinking of the limited small tasks he'd noticed the headmaster perform without a wand.
"And you yourself have been known to perform accidental wandless magic since you started Hogwarts."
Harry winced at the memory, he certainly hadn't intended to inflate his Aunt Marge but he couldn't deny that it had been his own doing.
"Well, we think that you might be able to use that particular skill to tide you over until the silencing potion can be nullified or an alternative found. And that, my boy, is why I have been chosen to train you."
Harry couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in surprise and Aberforth grinned at him wryly.
"I may be a bit eccentric, but you were right to study me Mr Potter, yes, I did notice you watching me in class. I am more proficient at wandless magic then even my brother."
Before Harry could think about his remark Aberforth waved his hand and transfigured the book that Harry had attempted to levitate, into a small golden hourglass.
"Now, I'll admit, I didn't charm the time-turner wandlessly, it was only the shape that was transfigured. But still, a nifty bit of magic, wasn't it?"
Harry nodded and stared at the time-turner desperately blocking the memories of his third year… of Hermione… and of Sirius, his godfather borne away atop Buckbeak the hippogriff, shrinking into the horizon…
"Harry. You are to use this time-turner to give yourself an extra hour after each DADA class in which I will train you in wandless magic, which, as you'll have realised, requires no incantation, but a lot of concentration. But for now, you'd better be going along to Charms. Flitwick, and the other teachers, have been informed not to ask you to perform incantations for the first few weeks, but you still need to learn the theory! Chop! Chop!"
Harry smiled gratefully at the professor before taking his bag and making his way to charms feeling a bit overwhelmed by the new teacher, but fairly content all the same.
He only hoped that it wouldn't be long before he could cast spells again.
The extreme vulnerability of being as good as powerless, if he were to come up against the Dark Lord again in this state the prophecy would certainly be fulfilled.
Trying not to think about the prophecy and with a valiant attempt to quash the nervous flutterings in his stomach, Harry finally arrived at Flitwick's classroom.
"Ah Mr Potter, good to see you with us, do take a seat next to Miss Granger, there's a good fellow."
Professor Flitwick seemed especially cheery today, and Harry wasn't about to challenge his good mood, so he sat quickly next to Hermione, despite the fact that he knew she would want to know what Aberforth had kept him back for.
Even Harry himself could see that it was silly, but he really didn't want anyone to know about his inability to perform charms, and especially not Hermione, the most successful witch in the year.
As it turned out, Hermione was far too distracted by the topic of their class.
The Fidelius Charm.
As soon as Harry read the heading of her notes he felt a shiver run right the way up his spine. Why did everything seem to come back to Voldemort? Was there nothing in the wizarding world that wasn't tainted by his insidious presence?
Hermione had noticed his pale face and instinctively placed a hand on his shoulder. Harry barely felt it's weight, he was shivering properly now. He could barely hear Flitwick's squeaky voice describing the charm that ought to have kept Voldemort away from his family, the charm that could have prevented him from becoming 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. Harry couldn't help but glance at Neville.
How he wondered what Neville's life must be like.
He could easily see the parallels, it wasn't surprising really that they had both suffered so much.
Harry tried quickly to quash the swelling bubble of resentful hate he felt for the prophecy. It was pointless after all to dwell on something over which he had no control.
He would just have to bear down and work hard. There had to be some way he could face his destiny. After all, hadn't the prophecy mentioned some power that he was supposed to have?
He'd just have to find out what this power was. He had to, or else he'd surely be dead, and despite what Professor Snape might have to say about his foolish dances with death, one thing that Harry knew was that he did not want to die… not yet.
A/N - Hi guys, sorry that this took longer than I'd hinted at. I'm afraid my exams took up a lot more of my time/energy and everything, plus some of you will know that I was really quite ill a while ago so obviously I didn't really feel up to using my brain much. I hope it's been worth the wait though! Thanks to everyone who's been kind enough to review, you're wonderful! All the best to you all! Jona xxx