Chapter 2: Air
---
"There is nothing so nice as supposing." - A Little Princess
---
"Techno-Magic?" Ron frowned. "Pity Hermione isn't here; I've never heard of that before."
"Neither have I." Harry admitted, waving the ring experimentally near the chest. "How do you suppose we open it?" he asked, curiosity again overpowering him.
"Well, the carved bit on the chest is shaped like a rose." Ron noticed, "Why don't you try the ring near there?"
Harry shrugged and put the object face down near the indentation. As it was about an inch away, the rose on the jewellery, previously closed over, let its petals swiftly open out to match the groove. Breathing hard in excitement and fear, Harry pushed it into the mark. Immediately there was a 'click' sound; and nothing happened.
The ring had fit perfectly, making it look like a smooth chest with a tiny handle, rather than a chest with a ring sticking out, but it hadn't done anything. Harry sighed and tried to pull it out. It was stuck.
He pulled a little harder, under Ron's watchful gaze; nothing happened.
Harry leaned back and released the ring. "Give up." Ron sighed. "It was pretty cool whilst it lasted, but it looks like it needs something else to make it work. God knows what a Magical chest is doing in here, anyway."
But Harry wouldn't give up. He'd paid a lot for that ring, and besides, he wasn't going to let a box beat him.
He bought it for five pounds, Mrs Rowles thinking it was just a piece of rubbish - after all, it couldn't open.
---
"Thanks!" Harry called again, as the Weasleys left. As soon as they were gone, Vernon opened the door. "Get in boy!" he barked, "Don't want the neighbours to see you."
Harry grabbed his bags from the doorstep and hurried inside, dodging past Dudley and heading to his room to unpack his gifts and purchases. "You'd better have had supper, because we've already finished!" Vernon hollered up, and Harry responded with a quick 'Yes thank you, Uncle Vernon.'.
---
In his room, Harry set his books, school equipment and clothes out in his chest, having decided to take Magical Languages. He put the cage in one of the deep sections, and the marble-like orb in with the letters. Finally, he came to the bottom of the bag; the box with 'Techno-Magic' written on it. He held it up and stared at it for a second before taking a deep breath, and pulling the ring again.
A black line appeared around the sides; the edge of a lid.
The box was open.
Harry paused only for a second, before grabbing the sides of the lid and pulling it off. He set it down beside the box and looked inside it. The insides were lined with red, crushed velvet, and there was a sheet of red silk covering the top of what appeared to be another box. Harry took the silk out, and stared in surprise and disbelief at what it had covered.
It was snow white, and of average size; at each corner, there was a decoration of gold curls, matching the ones on the ring and on the box. Harry reached in and gently lifted it out - it was quite light.
Even with the lid down, it was obvious what it was. It was a Muggle laptop.
Harry searched round the back of it, but there didn't seem to be anywhere for it to plug in, or insert batteries.
He pushed down the grip on the front, and pulled it open: there were perfectly normal keys, with the English alphabet; there was a normal touch pad to use as a mouse; there was a volume control and small speaker near the front. On the inside of the lid, there was a perfectly normal screen, with no smears or dirt.
In fact, there were no smears or dirt anywhere on the laptop. It looked brand new and completely modern, even though it had probably been sitting in the shop for years; and even longer if you included the time to lose the ring, and for it to end up in a shop. 'Perhaps,' Harry mused, 'it's self-updating, like some of the books in the school library.' He shook this thought from his mind as he turned again to admiring the object.
As his eyes scanned over the keys, he noticed a plain, white button on the top left. It was obviously the power button; but with no power source, it couldn't do anything. Harry tapped a few keys experimentally; they moved smoothly, not like they had been untouched for years. Puzzled by the seemingly useless technology, he tapped the power button - and almost jerked backwards in surprise as it booted up.
It loaded silently, not a whir or buzz anywhere inside it; the black screen simply faded to a pale cream, before bringing up the shortcuts as on a normal Muggle computer, and the usual 'Start' button and time at the bottom.
Harry looked through the shortcuts in amazement; this was definitely magic. 'My Computer' was there; so was 'Internet Explorer', 'Recycle Bin', 'Notepad'; and for some strange reason, 'Learnings', which had the image of a book as its symbol, and 'Techno-Chat', which had a phone as its symbol. Finally, there was one shortcut called 'about.txt' with the Notepad icon.
Harry moved the pointer (a wand, he noted amusedly) across to the .txt document with the touch pad, and double clicked it with the left button above the pad. Immediately a Notepad file opened up and Harry read it slowly.
About Techno-Magic
Congratulations on finding yourself the possessor of this advanced device! As you are reading this, you've obviously worked out how to open the container, and have the necessary item of jewellery for doing so. It also shows you have a curiosity about what this device is, and about Techno-Magic, which I hope I can satisfy for you.
This device is one of the few, sole carriers of the knowledge and power of the Techno-Magi. Techno-Magic is a type of magic, practised by only a select group; it gives control over, and mastery and understanding of technology, whether Magical or Muggle.
Techno-Magic is the result of blending the Muggle and Magical worlds to create a new form of power; not new now, of course, being more than centuries old. You are probably wondering how this advanced machine; and even mastery of technology itself; could possibly have been invented hundreds of years ago, when Earth was still so primitive, and all will be explained in due course - though not yet, for untrained, you are not ready for this answer.
I will move on now, to what this device is exactly. As I have said, it is a carrier of knowledge; it contains spells and information known to the founders of Techno-Magic, and those after them. When the time comes, and you are a master of this Magic, you will put your own knowledge into this for those after you; or perhaps you will take an apprentice of your own, whether it be a family member, friend, or just someone worthy of the honour.
I say 'apprentice', rather than 'apprentices'; for at a time, you must only have one apprentice, and it must be someone you trust and know to be deserving. When the apprentice is fully trained, they too can leave their apprenticeship and take their own apprentice, and possibly you take another yourself - but Techno-Magic is a secretive skill, one that should not be bragged of, or shown off.
You may already have noticed this if you tried to open the container in front of someone. Only the person who set the jewellery in the container may open it, and only when they are alone. If another person looks at the screen when it is turned on, however, they will see what you are doing, so be sure to hide your work.
If the Techno-Magic decides you are not deserving of the power - one way for this to happen is for you to flaunt your powers, or tell someone of them without good reason - , it will not allow you to turn the device on, and the power already in you will be taken back. If this happens, the power will search for someone more worthy, by separating the jewellery from the container, and making sure the chosen person comes into contact with it. Then the person can find the device by going where the ring leads them.
I leave it up to you to use the Magic as you want, and to find the boundaries and allowances of Techno-Magic for yourself, but I leave you these pieces of information, simply set out, to help you.
If you want to insert a disk or CD, simply push it into the right hand side of the device, which will merge around it and accept it normally. Techno-Magic doesn't need a wand, staff, toka, or any other object to manipulate magic; it relies solely on the caster, so if you wish to rid yourself of your magical focus, feel free to do so. You are a fully-trained Techno-Mage and ready for an apprentice when you've finished the 'Beginner' and 'Intermediate' levels. Until then, you are an apprentice. The device is self-updating once you've become a full Techno-Mage, and shall immediately insert the 'Adept' and 'Expert' spells, as well as explaining how Techno-Magic first came to be, and how it is centuries old; this information is forbidden from Apprentices, who may betray the secret. There are 4 other Techno-Magi as of this moment; 2 are apprentices, 2 are fully trained. You may communicate with them and ask questions or give help or simply talk, by clicking 'Techno-Chat', although they may not be on, or may be unwilling to talk. The shortcuts on the desktop are as follows;'My Computer' - brings up a list of what is on the device, and information on them such as file sizes; there is no memory limit.
'Internet Explorer' - this opens what Muggles and Muggleborns call the Internet. It is a vast network of information and communication between computers, and if you do not understand it, it would be best if you researched it.
'Recycle Bin' - this is the place that deleted files go to, so you have a chance to restore them.
'Notepad' - This is a simple application for writing on; this file is written on it.
'Learnings' - this opens a menu of the information and spells stored on the device, searchable by name, subject, age, book, or power level.
'Techno-Chat' - as said before, this is a method of instant communication between Techno-Magi. It is similar to online-chat on the Internet, in that two or more people must be on to talk. If someone wishes to call you into a chat, a message will alert you.
And finally; good luck.
Harry finished reading the file and closed it down. Techno-Magic? It sounded unbelievable! But if it were all a joke, then it was a very good one - if someone had lost their power, then the laptop and ring would've found its way to someone worthy; and that was exactly how Harry had come into it. And it was right that Harry wasn't able to open the box while Ron was watching, nor Mrs Rowles when he took it to the counter.
Feeling half-excited, half-apprehensive, a surge of eagerness overcame him. To have such power! Even if he couldn't tell anyone what it was, that didn't mean he couldn't use it in front of them - and if it were wandless, as well, then that would be even more useful. It wasn't as though he were going to use it for anything bad, after all.
Getting a flash of inspiration, he searched through his chest for the book Sirius gave him, 'Rare Powers and Extinct Abilities'. Finding it, he flicked past the shiny cover to the contents; Part two contained given powers, rather than inborn ones, and Harry scanned through the list. There was no mention of Techno-Magic or any other similar talent, anywhere in the book. Blaming it on the secrecy of the group, Harry double clicked on the 'Learnings' to get a glimpse of what lay ahead if he decided to train as a Techno-Mage.
The 'Learnings' section was not a document, but a program; after no time at all of loading, it brought up a menu with the title 'Apprentice; Beginner' and different selections - Spells, Potions, Information, Languages, Technology, Search, and Miscellaneous.
Knowing what the others must include, Harry moved straight on to Technology. Instantly, the screen changed again, giving more selections; on computer codes, hacking, tracing, introductions for non-Muggle-borns to Muggle technology, sending untraceable e-mail, creating AI life-forms, controlling electrical items through will-power alone; anything technological, whether involving Magic or not, was there.
Harry clicked back, and (skipping search) entered the Miscellaneous section. It was another menu, including parts such as how to connect the laptop to normal Muggle equipment such as printers or scanners, how to insert information into the spell archives so that every Techno-Mage could gain access to it, how the laptop would 'clone' itself for an apprentice when they became fully-trained, how to take an apprentice and train them, and even more.
As Harry moved the pointer to scroll down the rest of the options, he noticed the time in the bottom right-hand corner; 10:32 pm. Hurriedly, Harry shut the laptop down and prepared for bed before the Dursleys saw his light on, promising himself that he start seriously considering whether to become an apprentice, the next day.
---
Harry wasn't able to keep to that promise however - at least not for a while - for Vernon insisted that Harry fulfil his promise, and clean out the garage. This by itself took the whole morning and afternoon, with only a few short breaks for breakfast and dinner, and it was only at four o'clock in the evening that Harry finally pulled down the sliding door to the garage, and trudged inside.
Aunt Petunia took one look at him, wrinkled her nose, and demanded he went upstairs and had a shower, while Dudley picked disgustedly through his salad. Harry complied readily, and when he was dressed again, grabbed the laptop and sat down on the bed, switching it on as he did so.
On a whim, Harry clicked on the Chat option and watched as a chat-screen came up. He changed his screenname from 'Unnamed' to 'Harry', but no-one else was on, so he closed the screen down and hurried through the menus until her reached the search section, where he typed the word 'Y'Laagrondd', the name of the figure on his pendant, into the space provided, and clicked the 'find' button.
There were several sections found; a few on myths, some with spells calling upon her, and finally a list of ancient Bulgarian gods and goddesses.
Y'Laagrondd (Yla-gron-ed), the list informed him, along with a picture of the figure on his pendant - Harry noticed she looked even more incredible in colour, with the midnight-black wings arching above her.
This was the goddess and empress of dragons and serpents. As the Aurors of Bulgaria had a dragon as their symbol, she was their patron goddess, and said to be in charge of warriors and wars, as well. She had a temple built to her, unseen to Muggle eyes, and had weekly offerings of sacrifices. At times of war, she would have a sacrifice of a human volunteer, for good luck in the battles. Her colour was white, and she was often symbolised as a white dragon or snake, a beautiful warrior-woman with dragon wings, or a young girl with a snake's head or body.
She was said to be the sister of Tko, the wife of Caron and the mother of the twins Syneeta and Belinda. (Those familiar with the myths may know that Syneeta killed Belinda in a fit of jealously, and was sentenced to become a daemon for the crime.) Each god and goddess had two divine objects, and Y'Laagrondd was no exception. She was said to hold a magical sword; its blade made of a claw from an Aetherius dragon (a huge species long extinct), which could cut through anything. She also held a sceptre to show her status as empress, which was made of rowan, a powerfully magical tree, and had a carved flame at the top. It was said she could create forest fires with it.
As she was in charge of serpents and dragons, the priestess at her temple (as an empress, she did not allow priests) was typically either a Snake-Speaker - nowadays known as a Parseltongue; or a Dragon-Discusser, now an extinct ability, but usually called Dractois. Rarely, the priestess was both, as in the case of Herklinn the second and N'Reesecuth the first, and even more rarely one of the gifts of language was bestowed upon the goddess' chosen people. Y'Laagrondd was said to have promised that one day a priest would take charge of the temple, after the priestesses had gone, but the religion of the ancient Bulgarian magic-users; Maestroan; fell some years later.
Of the few who still follow the old religion, there are usually two or three people who take care of Y'Laagrondd's temple, preserving their faith and waiting through the generations for the priest who will not come.
Y'Laagrondd is one of the most important deities in this religion, and the main female one. Much snake magic was founded because of study of Maestroan, and there is probably yet more to discover.
She was said to be a powerful, just and kind goddess, who cared deeply for her subjects; but when disasters such as fires or volcanoes happened, she was said to be angry, and a sacrifice was made to appease her.
Harry had only just finished reading the entry on the goddess, when there was a small beep from the laptop, and a blue message sprang up in the top right corner of the screen. Another Mage wanted to talk to him on the Chat.
Eager to meet another like him, and gain their advice on whether he should train, he minimised the 'Learnings' program and double-clicked on the message. It brought up the same chat screen he'd seen the night before, except that now there was someone else there. Their screenname was Rhiannon, and as Harry watched, they sent him a greeting. He typed in a reply - another greeting - and pressed enter to post it.
The conversation was short and to the point; Rhiannon was a thirteen year old, previously Muggle apprentice in Brazil, who had happened across her ring (not a rose, but a dragonfly) in a jewellery store when she was ten, and had found the laptop in a rubbish skip when the neighbours were re-landscaping their garden, just a year ago.
She was an optimistic, bright girl, who had accepted quite happily the idea of magic, and was training by herself. There was also, she informed Harry, another apprentice, who was studying under a Master, both of them in Hong Kong, but the apprentice never came on, as he would only gain his own laptop when he was a Master himself.
As well as the Chinese Master, there was another Master in Seattle, a witch, who was only too willing to help out with spells or research should anyone need it. There had been, she also said, another apprentice in France, but she knew that he had planned to tell his family about Techno-Magic, and then had never heard from him again.
Harry guessed that the laptop he was on had belonged to this previous apprentice, but kept quiet about it.
He noted her e-mail address if he wanted to contact her when she wasn't online, but she had to leave thirty minutes later, so they said a hasty goodbye before she went. Harry himself was interrupted a moment later.
---
An owl had arrived, from Hermione by the look of it - a Great-Horned owl - which meant she'd finally found the perfect bird. The letter excitedly informed him of something she'd only just learned; several Bulgarian students were transferring to Hogwarts for a year, for a project for their Culture classes. 'This will be an invaluable experience to learn from them, as they learn from us!' wrote Hermione enthusiastically. 'And as Prefect, if any are sorted into Gryffindor, I'll have plenty of time around them to ask questions.'
Harry didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed by this recent information, but eventually decided to remain neutral on the subject. After all, he'd jump at the chance to go to another country, so why be a hypocrite?
Harry wrote a quick reply and attached it to the owl's leg, which reminded him of another letter he had to write. When Hermione's owl had left, Harry took another piece of parchment and composed an invitation to the Quidditch game. He opened Hedwig's cage and tied the letter to her leg, telling her who it was for.
"Go as quickly as you can, so Uncle Vernon doesn't know you've gone ." Harry told her quietly and watched her leave, with a flutter of feathers. He left the window open so she could return, and started reading The Ultimate Dictionary of Quidditch while he waited for a reply.
---
Hedwig didn't return that night, and not in the morning, either. Harry had to be content with finishing his book, and beginning Ancient Bulgarian Magic; The Gift from the Heavens. Dudley however, provided an unexpected interruption to his reading. Harry was too absorbed in chapter three - the Bulgarian's theories of magic - to hear the large boy's footsteps racing up the stairs. This perhaps shows how interesting the book was; for it would take a lot to miss the sound of Dudley's footsteps. There was no 'large', or 'overweight': Dudley was just plain fat.
Harry did, however, notice when Dudley flung open his bedroom door. "Have you seen my -" he began, and then stopped. Harry knew it wasn't because he was reading a magic book; as he'd had Vernon's permission to do his homework, he could just say it was research. Wondering what his cousin was staring at, Harry followed his gaze to the bottom of his bed, where the laptop lay.
"Did you steal that?" Dudley gasped, not able to take his eyes off the sleek, brilliant machine.
"No," said Harry honestly. "It's a... magic laptop." Well, it was the truth. Dudley seemed amazed by this idea.
"Magic?" he asked, a little fearfully. Then his eyes brightened as he turned to the device of his interest, once more. "You mean it runs on magic instead of electricity? Cool! Does it have any games?"
Harry blinked. This wasn't quite the reaction he had been expecting. "No games." he admitted, "But it's still really good. It's got the Internet, access to loads of information - Magical and non-Magical, and you can put floppy-disks or CDs in, so I suppose you could have games. And," he remembered, "it has unlimited space."
Dudley was one step away from salivating now. "Could I have it?" he barked joyfully. "I'll pay you -" he root around in his huge jeans pockets for a moment, finally bringing out some crumpled notes, "sixty quid?"
Harry knew what would happen if he refused. Dudley would yell to his parents, and Harry would be forced to hand it over; Dudley wouldn't even be able to use it, and Harry would lose the chance of ever becoming a Techno-Mage. That was the moment he realised that whatever happened - he did want to be one, no hesitation.
"You can only use it if you're a Wizard." Harry lied. "Sorry."
Dudley's face fell, but even he was smart enough to understand that getting angry or stealing it wasn't going to make it work. "Maybe I can rig something up." Harry suggested, before he could stop himself as he saw his cousin's pitiable expression. "I'm not promising anything, but I could try."
"Thanks!" cried Dudley excitedly, finally tearing his eyes away from it. "Have you seen my new CD?"
"On the sofa." Harry told him, and Dudley raced out of the room without thanking him; otherwise, Harry was astounded by his manners. He seemed almost amiable! Harry shook his head in amusement. Enough of that - at least he hadn't noticed Hedwig was missing, and used it as blackmail against Harry. He returned to his book.
---
Hedwig arrived back at about seven in the evening, after Harry had done the washing-up and drying and headed back upstairs. She had a reply attached, and when Harry took it off her, she hooted thankfully and flapped back into her cage, where she gulped down some water and settled down to rest whilst Harry read the letter.
Dear Harry,
Thanks for the invitation! You have no idea how great it was to get something like that right out of the blue. I should really back-track a bit here, and say 'happy birthday', so happy birthday. I know it's late, but I didn't think you were particularly interested in hearing from me.
I'm not doing anything on the twenty-eighth, and I'd love to come - the Magpies are my favourite team though, so I'm afraid I'd be cheering a different name to you and Ron. Gran's already said I can go, so if you still want to come, I'll meet you outside the stadium. Thanks again, and goodbye.
Happy holidays!
Neville
Harry put the letter aside, pleased that Neville could come, and started up the laptop, heading over to the technology section of Learnings. He paused at the 'creating AI life-forms', and finally chose to enter it. He didn't expect to actually create anything, but it did seem interesting. Harry quickly found that it was every bit as hard as he had expected it would be; the use of magical materials, the imbuing of intelligence and sentience - and there were many different types as well. Human-like ones, capable of not just mimicking thoughts and emotions, but actually thinking and feeling, which were nicknamed androids - ones with no bodies, which spoke and thought from computers - animal shaped ones, which could act as servants - incorporeal ones which looked like ghosts - so many, and all of them able to be constructed through a mix of magic and technology.
There was one section that caught Harry's eye; Creating Familiars. Remembering the book Ginny gave him, Harry fished it out from the chest and scanned through the introduction. Familiars, it said, were creatures that could act as a store or battery for magic. They could be any type of creature, but it was rare for a wizard to get one, for there were so few that had the right power. If found, the beast could be Bound to the master, and would be a servant.
The wizard could store their magic in the animal, to take out when needed, and any magic that hit the Familiar would have no effect; instead the magic used would be assimilated into the creature for the master to use at will.
The master could use the Familiar as a 'battery', for they would recharge their magic faster when the Familiar was near, and they could possess the creature's body at their desire. If the master died, the Familiar would too, and if the Familiar died, the master would stay alive, but with part of his soul missing, until they Bound another Familiar.
Closing the book, Harry returned to the laptop. The creation and binding were combined in the ritual Harry read of, and seemed quite simple - only involving a long incantation and a pentacle ritual.
There was a major advantage to this type of Familiar; rather than a stupid animal, it would be intelligent, as shown by the heading 'Creating AI Life-Forms'. It would have to be done in Hogwarts though, if it were to be done at all - Harry wasn't allowed to perform magic outside of school, and even if he was, he wouldn't be able to get the ingredients from the Muggle world. Confident of himself, Harry planned to perform his first Techno-Magic spell as a test for himself, and then go through the proper apprenticeship plan in the 'Miscellaneous' section.
He was so smug, he didn't even realise that he was making a complete and utter bloody mess of the system.
---
Time passed quickly, and before long Harry had Vernon's permission for another trip with Ron, and on August the twenty-eighth they were taken by a Portkey prepared by Mr Weasley to the grounds outside the stadium, where they met with Neville, who had arrived ten minutes early.
Chatting about the future of the European League, the trio made their way to their seats where settled down and waited for the game. Neville, although a supporter of the Magpies, was sitting with Harry and Ron, as the tickets booked were next to each other. They had not long to wait, before the commentator announced the match and players. As he named each one, a person swooped out of their teams' respective tunnel, waving and grinning at the crowd. The Magpies' brooms had downward curving spikes, like beaks, on the front of their brooms, Harry noted.
After them was announced the referee, and the two teams' mascots; Monty, a rather plump, quite ordinary looking magpie who perched on the scoreboard much to the crowd's amusement, and Trix - one of the few tame Unicorns, mascot of the Cannons, who trotted out proudly wearing a rug with the Cannons' symbol on it.
Now was the part that the audience had come to see; the match. As soon as the whistle was blown, each player shot away to their positions, a Chaser from each team making for the Quaffle, while the other Chasers stayed a little way off, ready for it to be passed to them. The Cannon Chaser had the ball snatched by his opposing number, who tossed it swiftly to another. The Magpies made their way up the pitch, passing the ball from player to player, always one step ahead of the Cannons. Finally, the Magpies threw the Quaffle through one of the hoops, eliciting cheers and groans from the crowd.
Now the Cannons had got the ball, swiftly tossing it up down to the other end. A Beater hit a Bludger towards them, but the Chasers dodged it, letting their own Beaters come and hit it back.
The other Chasers were hot on their opponent's tails, and one, with a loud whoop, finally managed to intercept the Quaffle, but before she managed to managed to pass it again, another Bludger slammed into the back of her broom, shattering the twigs from the handle and sending the player falling down screaming, finally landing with a loud 'crack' on the hard ground. Medi-Wizards rushed out, and the audience gasped.
The referee (Ernest Edaffle, Harry remembered distantly) tossed the Quaffle back into the air without so much as a second glance at the injured member, and play resumed, the Magpies a Chaser down.
The Magpies were first to grab the Quaffle, and instantly started for the hoops; but their patterns were predictable now that they only had one other person to throw to, and they had less tactics to employ.
They were almost to the goal, before a Cannon flew in on a polished Firebolt, and casually whisked the ball out of the other Chaser's hands. The Magpie fans booed, but it wasn't against the rules, so there was no penalty. Dodging a Bludger hit at him, the Chaser performed a reverse pass; tossing the Quaffle over his shoulder for a Chaser behind him to catch. It was a hard move to pull off, but it worked, and the ball worked its way to the opposite end, where the Keeper was no match for the speed it was put through. Three minutes into the game, and already the score was 10-10, with one of the players down.
The Cannons managed to get it into the goal one more time before the Keeper beat it away to the Magpies with his broom-tail, who instantly turned and threw it up the end of the pitch.
Twenty-seven minutes later came a break, the score being 100-30 to the Cannons, who were employing brand-new tactics that pushed the boundaries of the rules, but never overstepped the boundaries completely.
The Magpie Chaser was back on for the second part, looking a little shaky, but fully healed, and giving a reassuring grin to the crowd as she mounted a new broom. The whistle blew again, and they were off.
The Magpies, filled with morale by this player comeback, scored another goal within the first minute, but the Cannons had other ideas. Spurred on by adrenaline, they snatched the Quaffle away and proceeded to score three more times, effectively wiping out the Magpies esprit de corps. The next ten minutes were mainly the two teams sizing each other up, working out their tactics, and trying to wear each other down, and only a few goals were scored. The next nineteen minutes were played fast and hard, using all stored energy.
The Bludgers were furiously hit towards opposing team members, giving one of the Cannons' Beaters a fractured skull, and sent him making an emergency crash landing on the grass to be healed.
There was a blend of formations, dodging, weaving, and a few Transylvanian Tackles pulled off, and eventually the score was 250-90, with no sign of the Snitch. There was a few minutes of relative peace as the players caught their collective breath, before they continued play. The crowd cheered and groaned as the Cannons added another well-aimed goal to their collection, and the, another few minutes in, when the Magpies had managed to score once more, the Snitch was seen. A member of crowd suddenly leapt up from his seat, yelling and pointing.
Everyone turned away from watching the match; and there it was, hovering in the centre of the pitch.
The Golden Snitch.
The Seekers, each at opposite ends, pulled into a dive and shot forwards, teeth gritted and hands outstretched to capture it. It quivered, darting to and fro around the same spot, directly in the centre of the pitch.
Suddenly, Harry realised what was going to happen; by the time the Seekers were there, the Snitch would have moved again - but they wouldn't be able to slow down. They were going to crash directly into each other, fifty feet up in mid-air! A few others had already worked this out and were crying for them to stop, while the Medi-Wizards prepared a pair of stretchers. The Seekers were concentrating too hard to see each other though, and each hurtled towards each other and the Snitch. Five metres - three metres - one metre -
:CRUNCH:
The mid-air collision had happened, the Snitch having darted away out of sight just a second before, and the two players, their brooms shattered - and probably their bones, too - toppled down in a mass of limbs and broken wood to the same ground that had a little earlier received a Chaser. The Cannons Seeker hit the ground with a sickening crack, and was either unconscious or dead; while the Magpie Seeker sat up a little dazedly, stuck what appeared to be the top of his broomstick in the ground, and the collapsed in a dead faint.
The broom was still pointing up however, and there, skewered through the beak-shape sitting on the top, was the Golden Snitch, wings fluttering weakly. The score was 250-250.
It all came down to penalties now, the commentator announced excitedly as the men were declared alive, and taken away to St Mungoes, where they be healed better. Whoever missed one goal, the other team would win.
First was the Magpies, who had scored last. The selected Chaser perched on her broom thirty metres away from the hoops, a long distance to throw and aim the ball - especially with the opposing Keeper flying in front.
After twenty seconds of deliberation and planning, she tossed it with all her energy, faking a throw left and then aiming right, sending the Keeper flying for the wrong goal. The ball went through, putting the Magpies in the lead. If the Cannons got the next penalty, then it would continue 'til one lost; otherwise, the Magpies won.
As the Chaser positioned himself and flexed his hand, tensing and un-tensing the muscles, Harry was interrupted by a loud squawk in front of his stand. Monty, the Magpies' mascot, was flapping his way towards the trio, happily cawing in the excitement. Harry and Ron ducked aside, Neville sitting too far away to be a target anyway, and the bird hurtled past them and settled by a witch, who appeared to be asleep.
As it touched her, she gently reached out to it, eyes still closed, and smoothly plucked a feather from it. Monty cawed in shock and shook himself, a few more loose feathers fluttering out of his back (a white one landed in Harry's lap, which he put in his pocket; a spur of the moment reaction) before heading as fast as he could away from the witch (but why had it come over in the first place?), who pocketed her own feather that she had taken, and opened her eyes, smiling at Harry.
Her hair was light brown, coming down to the bottom of her neck in small, tight, clustered curls, and her face was not stunning, but quite pretty; she appeared to be in her early-thirties, and was wearing a white robe with embroidered gold roses on it. It was her eyes that startled Harry; pure black, but for tiny specks of golden-white light in them, as if stars on a dark night. And was that his imagination, or did he see a tiny comet go through them?
He flashed a quick, nervous smile back at her, before turning back to Ron quickly. "Ron," he hissed, "do it casually, but look at that woman behind us." He fixed his eyes firmly on the second batch of penalties, not really seeing them, while Ron paused a few moments and then glanced round the stadium before looking backwards, as if he were just scanning the crowd.
"What woman?" he asked, turning back to Harry in puzzlement. Harry's head shot round, as he almost stood up - somehow, in the few seconds, the woman had vanished without a trace, only the feathers remaining. "She was there!" Harry insisted defiantly, "She took a feather from Monty, when he flew over."
Ron looked even more puzzled. "What do you mean? Monty's been perched on the scoreboard the entire game -how could he be over here?"
Harry's mouth fell open in shock. "But - but you dodged aside!" he gasped, "You saw him!" He looked back again towards the feathers, planning to show them as evidence; but now the empty seat behind him, and the floor in front of it, were devoid of any feathers. Harry immediately reached for his robes pocket, and felt a warm, fur-like object inside, thin, but long and wide. "Never mind, Ron." Harry said loudly, "Must have been my imagination."
And with that, he turned back to the game and watched the Cannons miss their next penalty, making the Magpies the winners of the match by ten points.
---
Kings Cross Station was, of course, always packed with Muggles; but on the first of September, it was crowded by Muggles and Wizards alike. Harry was always pleased to go back to Hogwarts, and this year more than ever; not only did he feel it was the safest place to be with Voldemort risen again, but it was somewhere that he could be with his friends - and somewhere that he could start his training as a Techno-Mage, and try out the Familiar making ritual, now that he'd memorised the incantation.
His glasses were still on; he'd used the eye-correcting potion the night before, but it would take a few days before any effects were 'seen', if you'll excuse the pun.
"Harry! Harry, over here!" Ron yelled, standing in front of the secret entrance to Platform 9 and ¾. Harry rolled his eyes. Where else would he go? Platform two? Shaking the sarcastic thoughts from his mind, Harry raced over to his friend, glad to be going back to school. "Hermione's already on the Prefect compartment." Ron scowled as Harry stopped by him. "They have to be on it ten minutes earlier than everyone else. I went to the platform twenty minutes ago, but since Hermione had to leave, I thought I'd catch you outside."
Harry looked at his new watch. "It'll leave in a minute," he told him cheerfully, "We'd best go now."
On the train, they greeted each other properly, Ron still a little sullen at Hermione's disappearance. Hedwig and Pig were put by the compartment door, so that Harry and Ron could have a good view out of the window. They discussed Quidditch and OWLs for the most part, welcoming Neville when he came by looking for a spare seat.
Neville definitely wasn't a replacement for Hermione - his personality and opinions were quite different from hers - but he was also different to how Harry had thought he was. Now that Neville was closer to them, having been invited away with them, he was less awkward, and even showed a developed sense of humour (although he did tend to compare things to plants whenever he felt he wasn't saying enough, which Harry found amusing at best, and irritating at the worst).
Harry, after a discussion on the difference between Wizarding and Muggle devices, suddenly remembered a question he wanted to ask. "Neville," he queried, reaching into his pocket and taking out the clear, tiny orb, "Do you know what this is?" He held the ball out for Neville to inspect. "Yes." he replied, to Harry and Ron's interest and surprise. Neville explained. "I like to read stuff about Aurors - 'cause my parents were Aurors, you see - and these were mentioned in one of the books I'm reading, along with a picture of them. They're used when a prospective Auror first applies. It's a Charmometer."
Ron's eyes lit up. "A Charmometer!" he breathed loudly. "Wow!"
"That's very nice," Harry said dryly, "but would someone mind explaining what it is to me?"
"It's a magical device." Ron informed him. "If you hold it and say the right spell, it can measure your magic level. It can't tell you the exact number - you need a Magimeter for that, and they're only used by the Ministry - but it'll give you a basic idea. Neville, do you know the charm?"
"Appareo spiritus numero." Neville replied instantly. He flushed as the others' amazement cranked up a notch. "I find it easier to remember the longer incantations than the short ones." he admitted. "Just hold it and say it; I think I have the book somewhere in my robes." While Harry recited the spell in his head, Neville finally flicked to the right page in 'Auror Testing and Training'.
"There are eleven levels of magic," Neville read aloud. "The average level for magic-users is Wizard, or Witch for females, so the magical population is generally called so. Wizard or Witch level is a magic score of three-hundred to three-hundred and ninety-nine points. Muggles or Squibs have nought to ninety-nine, Conjurors, a hundred to a hundred and ninety-nine.
"Apprentices have two-hundred to two-hundred and ninety nine. Above the Wizard or Witch, the Magician has four-hundred to four-hundred and ninety-nine, the Illusionist has five-hundred to five-hundred and ninety-nine, and the Enchanter has six-hundred to six-hundred and ninety-nine.
"The Sorcerer or Sorceress has power in the seven-hundreds; the Mugwump in the eight-hundreds; the Mage in the nine-hundreds; the High-Mage in the thousands; and finally the Arch-Mage in the two-thousand plus."
Ron frowned. "So how do we know what we are?"
"There's a colour scheme." explained Neville, obviously proud to be taking the lead in something. "I'll translate your own colour, instead of going through the list. Do you want to try?"
Harry shrugged his acceptance, and passed the ball to Ron. "You first." he offered. Ron took it. "Appareo spiritus numero." he said loudly, and they watched. The Charmometer turned a pale white; then brilliant white; silver; and finally a medium grey. "Wizard." Neville announced. He took it next, the Charmometer going back to normal as it left Ron, and said the words. It changed to a pale white; then brilliant white; and finally stayed on silver. "Apprentice." sighed Neville mournfully. "Your turn, Harry."
Harry took the now clear-again orb and said, "Appareo spiritus numero." The Charmometer went through the usual colours, and stopped at medium grey. "Wizard again." Neville said. "The average power level." At this, Harry felt slightly disappointed, and slightly relieved. On the one hand, he was the Boy-Who-Lived, who was probably going to have to fight Voldemort. Shouldn't he be a bit stronger if he were to stand a chance? On the other hand, he was finally something normal. Rita Skeeter couldn't accuse him of any abnormalities, there would be no camera flashes in his direction (not over this, anyway), and there would be no more power-hungry loons after him.
They finished the ride with the changing of the subject to what they planned to get in Hogsmeade, played a few games of Exploding Snap, and changed into the uniform. Finally, Harry knew, he was home.
---
Hermione met Harry and Ron in the Great Hall, Neville having drifted over to compare Herbology ideas with one of the Gryffindor fourth years. She flung her arms around first Harry, and then Ron, exclaiming her delight at seeing them both and proudly pointing out her shining, red and gold Prefect badge.
They talked for a while, until the doors banged open and Professor McGonagall strode in, followed by a mob of gawking first-years... and eleven or twelve boys and girls who looked about sixteen.
"The Bulgarian transfers." Harry reminded them, and Ron beamed. "Krum's not there!" he said happily.
"No, he doesn't take Magical Culture classes," Hermione replied, but Ron wasn't listening. While McGonagall explained what would happen, and Flitwick brought the Sorting Hat out, Harry counted the Bulgarian students. There were only ten of them, in fact; four girls and six boys. Most of them were ordinary looking, glancing about the room at the students, the ceiling, the staff, looking as though they felt a little out of place in their plain black cloaks that were so different from their Durmstrang ones.
The first years seemed more inquisitive, some of them being Muggle-borns, and they watched in wonder as the Sorting Hat opened its 'mouth' and began to sing.
"I know what you're thinking,
When you're standing there like that -
How can such an important matter,
Be trusted to a hat?
You're wondering how some headwear
Can tell you where you ought to be;
I'll say there's one headwear that can,
And that special hat is me.
I'll take a look inside your mind,
And choose one of houses four;
Each one with its own merits,
Such as Ravenclaw!
To there go the fast to learn,
Quick of wit, smart and wise,
Next comes cunning Slytherin,
Sly, aspiring, lord of disguise.
Hufflepuff is next in line,
Full of loyalty and dedication;
Hard-working and trustworthy,
They never act above their station.
Gryffindor comes last,
But certainly not least,
Honour, bravery and valour -
Here, they've never ceased.
So all you have to do,
To find out who you really are;
Is perch me now atop your head,
And I'll help you go far."
The students and staff applauded the hat, the first years clapping the loudest. McGonagall rolled out the yearly scroll and read the names off. "Archer, Bethany."
A short girl with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and slightly tanned skin trotted up and sat down on the stool, placing the Sorting Hat on her head. After a moment of deliberation, the hat called, "Hufflepuff!"
'Castree, Michael' was next, sorted into Gryffindor. When finally all the first years had been sorted, Dumbledore rose to speak. "This year, he announced to the students, "we will be playing host to ten Durmstrang students, as they study here for their Magical Culture classes - one that I'm afraid we don't teach at Hogwarts." He smiled at this and looked around the room. "I hope you will treat them as you treat each other - and I look to the Prefects, and the new Head Boy and Girl to make sure that they, along with other new and old students, are comfortable here. So now, let the second Sorting - begin!"
The students clapped enthusiastically, and McGonagall brought out another, smaller scroll. "Kurkaer, Georgoff." she declared. Georgoff was a tall, gangly boy, with drooping eyes - probably thanks to lack of sleep because of the time difference, Harry noticed. Georgoff came out to the centre and put the hat on. After a few seconds, it cried out its choice; "Ravenclaw!" The boy left for the table, still looking half-asleep.
'Kurkaer, Taialser' became a Slytherin, along with 'Liastam, Derngatt'. 'Nikastal, Natasha' became a Hufflepuff, while 'Nikastal, Leone' became a Gryffindor. 'Gregor, Ivan' and 'Tachov, Boris' became Slytherins as well; then 'Readenheim, Essorogrich' and 'Valia, Mosten' became Ravenclaws.
The final person was a girl, who looked about fifteen, her eyes were closed as her name was called; her hair was light-brown, in tight, small, clustered curls, and her skin was pale. She was not stunning, but she was quite pretty, and she stood a little shorter than the others. She looked about sixteen, and stood with her head slightly lowered, eyes gently shut, lips pursed, and hands clasped in front of her.
As her name was called - Diana Genevieve - her head raised slightly and her eyes slowly flickered half-open.
They were pure black, with hints of golden-white stars in them, and a sharp cruelty showed as one side of her mouth edged up in a sharp smile that had nothing to do with happiness.