Disclaimer: this is a nonprofit work based on the works of J. and Tite Kubo. I own nothing except the plot, and I guess some power system liberties.
POV change: 3rd person
Two more days passed, and it soon was Friday. Over the rest of the week, the students were only introduced to two more lessons, history of magic and astronomy. While astronomy was interesting, being about how certain magics can draw on the energy of stars, history of magic was taught by a ghost with a bias against goblins, focusing on the wars against them.
All the while, Harry worked on his dial research on top of his physical and flame training. No progress had been made on what allowed him to use the dials, or what stopped others, but he had isolated some of the applications of his Sun Flames, such as increasing the speed at which the boy thought, or mildly overclocking a device.
Still, it was clear that the sun flames, at least in lower purities, were meant almost entirely for support. Additionally he'd been forced to remove the sanrei glove after he figured out that it was influencing his ability to do magic. This could have resulted in catastrophe, especially as they had the volatile potions class with gryffindors that morning.
As they lined up by a door in the dungeons, the Quincy wondered how this teacher would act. He'd heard about Professor Snape from the older students, 'a harsh taskmaster with a flair for the dramatic and a major hate boner for Gryffindor' as one third year put it; 'an utter bastard' said a tad less eloquent fifth year.
The classroom entrance creaked open, and everyone walked through the door. The inside of the potions room was vaguely ominous, with little to no lighting, a complete absence of windows and shelves lined wall to wall with different ingredients, including some things that still seemed to be alive. The students slowly gathered themselves into groups, some of them muttering about the missing teacher.
Harry sat at a four person table, along with Su and the two people on the train looking for a toad, Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger. "Hey, do you reckon he's an Animagus like Professor Mcgonagal is? Hanging out on the rafters like a bat?" Su whispered excitedly. She'd been bouncing on her seat eagerly, seemingly trying to get all her energy out.
Before either of the boys could reply, Hermione spoke up, almost in a trance. "He's in the storage cupboard, probably waiting for us to reach a certain volume so that his entrance has the right effect." as one, the other table occupants slowly turned to face her, just as she realised that she'd spoken out loud. "What? I've always had really good senses, I thought it was because of magic." she said blushing.
At that moment, the other door in the room slammed open, cutting off all conversations. From the other room walked a tall, pale man with black hair. He wore a severe expression that indicated he would rather be anywhere else, and his crooked nose indicated at least two breaks. He stalked along the edge of the room to his desk, almost as an intimidation play.
"All those who have not put their wand away, do so now. This is your only warning, I will have no such foolish wand waving in my class. In this room, you shall learn the delicate art of potion making. I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death." the man stated.
"That is, if you aren't as big a group of dunderheads as I normally have to teach." he dismissed casually. Naturally the ravenclaws were near up in arms from that statement. "Now when I call out your name, respond with Present and nothing else. Lavender brown." he ordered. While the teacher went through the register, Harry started making notes of different safety precautions.
Then Snape reached his name. "Ah yes, Harry Potter, our new celebrity." which only got the response of a distracted 'present'. Clearly he wasn't expecting that response, as the professor grit his teeth and continued, only to circle back the moment the register was complete. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Without missing a beat, Harry replied, "a number of things depending on what else is in the potion, however the thing that springs to mind first is draught of living death, a mislabeled sleeping potion as it actually seems to put the user into a form of stasis."
The Potionmaster's glare kicked up a notch, and he gave another question. "And where, pray tell, would I find a bezoar?"
"The stomach of a goat is the most consistent place to find a bezoar when harvesting them, however there are a number of creatures that also produce them." the boy stated dully, before crossing something out in his notebook.
"What, Potter, is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Snape pressed, adding a disturbing amount of venom to his student's name. By now the other first years were wondering what problem their teacher had with someone who he'd likely never met.
Much like his previous answers, Harry's response was toneless and almost distracted. "Nothing, they're the same plant, also known as aconite."
At that point the professor was near apoplectic, seemingly at his student's knowledge. Turning to look at the rest of the class staring at him, he barked out, "Well? Why aren't you writing that down!" Before scrawling out the recipe for a boil cure potion and ordering them to make it.
As everyone got up from their seats, Su looked at her fellow ravenclaw, still sitting down and writing, and poked him on the shoulder. "Hey, how did you know the answers to those questions? They weren't mentioned anywhere in the potions book on our list?"
Blinking a bit, Harry looked up at her in confusion. "What questions? I was writing some basic safety measures down." This caused the battle-hungry girl to snort in amusement as she explained what happened while he was zoned out.
Soon enough they were all working on the assignment given to them, while the teacher stalked around the classroom, seeming to revel in making the students nervous. Neville was particularly affected, and it caused him to nearly make several mistakes if he and the other people at the table hadn't noticed in time.
By the time the first year flying class came around, Harry had made a number of discoveries. This was thanks in part to his classmate Su Li, who'd taken to joining him during his exercise, and it allowed him to get in some sparring to refine his hand to hand. As an additional bonus, she'd wanted to help him discover how to make normal-people-friendly dials.
First was that he could utilise his 'weight' propagation ability on living creatures, allowing it to act as a restraint or a training tool. Harry started bashing his head lightly against a tree when he realised that. It was so useful!
The other was an accident during one of their sparring matches. He'd thrown a punch, and by instinct channelled Sun Flames into the point of impact. The energy had simultaneously activated a bunch of contradictory neurons, disrupting her motor functions and causing an effect not unlike cannabis. It took her five minutes to come back down.
Still, it had made them wonder if it was possible to jumpstart spirit powers, as Su had described feeling 'something like magic, but not'. Doing so could go disastrously however, and so the idea was shelved for the moment, unless there was an emergency or the recipient's abilities were known and already partway active.
All that experimenting led to the only class that everyone took simultaneously, the flying lesson. It was chaos, there were people babbling on about Quidditch, Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy were bragging about improbable situations they'd been in on brooms, Hermione was reciting everything she knew about flight and Neville seemed to be having a panic attack. Wait.
Walking up to his nervous friend, Harry gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "Neville, calm down, there's nothing to be afraid of. There'll be a teacher nearby, and the chances of you getting hurt are low. You know what, why don't we tell each other about some accidental magic we've both done to distract you?" He reassured.
"Um, o-okay. S-so there was t-there was this o-one t-time that uncle Algie held me out of the window, and he got distracted by a dessert a-and I slipped! B-but the floor turned bouncy just as I landed so I w-was okay." Neville narrated, before faltering at the intense, thousand yard stare his friend had. "H-harry?"
"Hm?" And just like that Harry was back to normal. "Oh, sorry! I was just trying to figure something out, something seemed off about your story, aside from the idea that your own family nearly killed you. Don't worry about it!" And with that cheery statement and a pat on the back, the students finally arrived outside.
Awaiting them was an attractive woman with silver hair, owl-like eyes and a serious expression. To her right were roughly three and a half dozen brooms, all floating at roughly shin height for the eleven year-olds in two lines. "Line up!" she ordered. "I am madam Hooch, and I have one job: to make sure that none of you accidentally kill yourselves on a broom!"
The students all did as told, gathering into their recently formed friend groups. "Very good! Now, place your hand over your broom and clearly shout 'up'!" a litany of voices rang out, causing various reactions, from nothing, to complete and immediate obedience. Malfoy's shot up and hit him in the face, whereas Weasley's did something similar and bashed against his elbow.
Harry's didn't do anything until he thought to release a tendril of reiatsu, which it latched onto and rose almost eagerly to his hand. The boy didn't know how an inanimate object could convey the general vibes of a hyperactive puppy but it was done, and got a small chuckle out of him.
"Alright, mount your brooms, and wait for me to pass by to make sure you aren't gripping it wrong," was the next command from their teacher, who also rolled her eyes at the crude chuckles that her specific phrasing provoked in some. However everyone got a laugh when she chewed Malfoy out for using the wrong grip to hold his flying implement.
Still, upon madam hooch walking past both lines and correcting any mistakes, the class was ready to start flying. Well, most of the class at least. "On the count of three I want all of you to kick off of the ground! One, two-!" In his nervousness, Neville had accidentally kicked off at the wrong time, the suddenness of his own action causing the blonde boy to panic and lose the subconscious control of his broom.
As the teacher began to call for him to come down, Harry noticed something odd. There was a minor spiritual presence coming from neville. Right as he was about to use a proper sensing technique the out of control wizard crashed into the castle wall! Almost everyone winced, as he fell to the ground, however no one noticed that he'd bounced slightly.
"Are you alright Mr Longbottom? No, silly question, of course you aren't. Well let's get you to the hospital wing, you're lucky it only seems to be a sprain. None of you move until I get back!" Madam Hooch rattled off, before quickly frog marching Neville into the castle. As the other students muttered amongst themselves, Harry crouched down to feel the area his only male friend fell on. His eyes widened when instead of acting like the stone it was, the surface behaved like a trampoline bed. And there was only one reiatsu wielding species that could do that: fullbringers.
'So Neville's a Fullbringer huh?' the last potter thought. 'Well it certainly explains a lot, and it's possible that his Fullbring abilities might mess with his magic, but that could just be the lack of confidence. Speaking of which, I wonder how powerful he would be if trained pro-' his musings were cut short by the sound of obnoxious laughter.
It was Malfoy, holding what looked to be a crystal ball in his hand and grinning smugly. He seemed disproportionately pleased with himself. "I think I'll leave this somewhere for longbottom to find." he drawled. "Maybe at the top of the astronomy tower?"
Sighing, Harry stood up and quietly walked over to the other boy. "Malfoy, if you're done being an idiot why don't you pass the remembrall to me or one of his housemates, seeing as you clearly aren't going to do it yourself?" he asked quietly. Most would subconsciously relent to the small amount of reiatsu Harry was using. Draco Malfoy, however, was not like most in that his spoiled nature and desire to imitate his father caused him to completely ignore logic and survival instinct.
And so, smirking like he'd just won an argument and grabbing his broom, the blonde replied with, "I don't think I will. In fact, if you want this thing, why don't you come and get it?" as he rose into the air.
Hermione shouted out as Harry took off his outer robes, leaving his t-shirt and jeans, "Harry you can't fly after him! You'll get in trouble!" garnering a strange look from her friend as he backed up and got into a running stance. Finally, the Quincy turned both of his accessible Flame dials, and began circulating Sun while propagating velocity with Cloud, giving him a slightly ominous yet barely visible yellow and purple glow.
"Why would I use a broom?" was the last thing he said before taking off! He accelerated to the point he began to blur slightly before jumping, the increased muscle power combined with the multiplied speed almost looking like flight. He shot past Malfoy by mere inches, going far past him and landing on the nearby roof safely.
From there it was just a simple matter of freerunning down the side of the castle wall before their teacher got back, and he did it with five seconds to spare. Grinning at the giddy looking Su, Harry reached into his pocket and removed the remembrall he'd grabbed. "I think the best part is that the teachers would never believe him," he chuckled.
"You have to teach me how to do that! It was so cool!" the hyperactive ravenclaw burst out. This got her friend outright laughing as he was needled about teaching the girl parkour, up until madam Hooch continued their lesson where they left off. After reprimanding Malfoy for defying her instructions, anyway.
"Oh, h-hey Harry, Su," Neville greeted from his bed. "W-what are you doing h-here? N-not that I'm n-not happy t-to see you, but M-Madam pomfrey s-said I'll probably be f-fine i-in a bit."
"Well," Harry started, rolling in on an office chair (where had he got it? Magic), "I was doing some thinking and I realised that what bothered me about your story about that bout of accidental magic, again ignoring the attempted murder for a bit, is that i've heard of that exact effect happening to people before, specifically one of the groups that predate magicals."
"W-what do you mean by 'predate m-magicals'?" Neville questioned, his confusion mostly overriding his stutter.
"You didn't get that talk from professor flitwick?" Su took it from there. "Weird. Anyway, us magicals are the result of two ancient, unknown groups who combined their powers to create what we call magic. Harry was able to link them to a pair of semi-modern day groups with more advanced versions of the 'proto-mages' abilities, mostly because he's a member of one of these groups. The reason we bring this up is because your accidental magic isn't magic, technically. It's an application of the other group's power, the fullbringers."
Here Harry decided to mess around a bit, and so shot forward on his office chair to get right in his friend's face and pasted a slightly manic grin on his face. "Welcome, Mr Longbottom, to the secret side of the secret side of the world. You can pretty much do whatever so long as it doesn't go against the law, you get a bunch of cool powers on top of your magic; in your case you can control the souls in inanimate objects and weaponize sentimentality, and really the only thing you have to do is get some basic training to use them and fight monsters!"
Word count: 2807