Chapter 6: Of Lakes and Princes
"Don't worry, Neville," said Harry. "I've done this plenty of times and there's never been a problem. And even if there were, I've prepared failsafes for every possible contingency. You're as safe as if you were in your own bed."
This might be more comforting, if they weren't hovering on a broomstick several kilometres above the ocean.
The sun was bright in the cloudless sky, but it was still so cold that even with the Thermos charm, Neville's fingers felt frozen. Every so often, the wind would pick up and rock the broom slightly, and he was reminded of the fact that at this height, Feather-Fall potion would just mean the dent you made in the Earth was slightly smaller.
"Umm…." said Neville. "I'm not sure I can move my hands."
Harry recast the Thermos charm on his hands, and now they were warmer, but still latched to the broom.
"All you have to do," said Harry. "Is take your hands off the broom—don't worry, you can't fall off—and cast the transfiguration. Then we'll go."
Harry had warned him of all these things before they went up into the air, but the danger back then hadn't been real. Kind of like when you say you'd eat a slug for 100 quid, and only realize your mistake when your friend is dangling a slug over your dinner plate. Neville knew that wizards never flew this high, and that there was a good reason. And yet here they were, because Harry had said it was absolutely necessary for his experiment that they complete it on a broom at 6 km above sea level.
Neville could just tell Harry he wanted to go home, and he knew Harry would take him down right away. Still, Neville couldn't do that. He had agreed to help, and he couldn't back down without being disloyal and a sort of crappy friend. Harry had helped him with his final project last year, after all, and he'd agreed to "owe him one."
Neville took a deep breath and steeled himself. He called on his Gryffindor side to come out. There was no reason a Hufflepuff had to shrink into the shadows. Adventure was calling, and it was time to be brave.
"Alright…I'm doing it," said Neville, taking his left hand off the broom handle, and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small metal ball, no bigger than a marble. Then, like ripping off a band-aid, he yanked his other hand off the handle.
In that moment of "look Mom, no hands," Neville felt a rush of adrenaline.
Oh, good we didn't die yet. See, we can do this. Just don't think about where you are. DON'T THINK ABOUT IT. Oh god, my grandmother has no one but me, and if I die she'll never find my body…
With trembling fingers, Neville pulled his wand from his pocket, then completely blanked. He knew he was supposed to do a simple spell, something he could normally complete within 10 seconds. His breath came out in rapid pants, and his thoughts couldn't coalesce on anything aside from DANGER and NOW WE PANIC.
Harry tightened his hold on Neville's shoulders. He was already attached by something called super glue and duct tape, but it still made Neville free a little more grounded. "It's okay," said Harry. "You can do it."
Neville nodded, and slowly the confusing moment passed. He pressed his wand to the ball, focusing on the form of glass that it was supposed to take. He didn't know how long he sat there, but when he finished, and passed the ball back, there was perspiration freezing against his temples.
"You did it, Neville!" said Harry. "Well done!" He clicked something, and then applied a sticker to the ball, placing it in his pocket. "Alright, now we—"
And that was the last thing Neville heard, due to the screeching wind that suddenly wailed in his ears. The temperature dropped so fast that Neville felt as if his eyelids had frozen.
The broom jerked right, wheeling them around like a pinwheel, and then began to fall.
Harry grabbed Neville by the waist, and Neville screamed. There were 10 seconds, or perhaps 2 hours, of total freefall and wild panic and final thoughts flashing before his eyes. Then, the green of Hogwarts trees flashed past his eyes, and he felt a jerk on his abdomen as the Feather-Fall potion slowed his momentum. In awkward slow motion, Neville, Harry and the broom landed with an anticlimactic plop into the Hogwarts lake.
As Neville and Harry flew the soggy broom out of the lake and onto land, Neville was reminded of why he hadn't joined Harry's science group. He was brave enough to do science every once in a while, but not crazy enough to do it every week. Or, at least, not Harry's brand of science.
"So, I kinda feel bad, but uhh, at least the failsafes worked," Harry babbled, as he unstuck them from the broom and each other. "If it makes you feel better, the experiment gave me a lot of useful data. So your suffering wasn't in vain."
Neville said nothing. His grandmother had told him if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.
Harry's eyes flicked up to Neville's, and he got the sense that the growing silence was making Harry even more nervous.
"And also," said Harry. "If it makes you feel better, you are free to punch me in the other eye once I get us off the broom."
After a few more seconds, Neville was free of the tape and glue. Harry held the broom and took a step backward, his face guilty but resigned.
Neville sighed. "I'm not going to punch you."
"Oh…alright," said Harry. "Would you rather…umm…throw your shoe at me, perhaps? It's the ultimate sign of disrespect in some Arab countries. Or you could just spit on me, which is a sign of disrespect in all cultures." Harry wrinkled his nose. "I don't prefer that idea, but it's acceptable if it's the only way to repair the damage."
Neville shook his head. "Listen, I don't blame you. You warned me of the risks beforehand, and I still accepted. But I'm wet, and I'm cold, and I don't quite feel like talking to you right now. So, unless you're going to explain what we were doing up there, I'm going inside."
Neville waited for a moment, but Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry, Neville, but…it's like I told you before, I can't tell anyone the reason why I'm doing these experiments. It must remain a secret until the time is right to reveal it."
Neville sighed. "Goodbye, Harry."
He had walked a few paced away when Harry called out, "Wait, Neville." He turned to look at Harry, whose jaw was working, his eyes hard. "I can't tell you everything, but I will say this. I think the reason why we started to fall was because the magic in the broom was disrupted. I've never seen this happen at any height lower than 24,000 feet, and we were only at 20,000. Please use caution when flying at high altitudes."
Neville raised his eyebrows. That would explain why wizards never travelled up that high, by broomstick or otherwise.
"So," said Neville slowly. "Why did you have me transfigure that ball three times?" The other two times had been by the sea shore and another at about as high as a sparrow flies. Neville figured he must be testing the strength of transfigurations…
"Oh," said Neville, realization dawning over him. "You wouldn't, by any chance, be looking for the Source of Magic?"
Harry was quiet for a long moment. "Maybe. Do you know anything about it?"
Neville shook his head. "There's lots of legends, and many wizards have searched for it. Some people say it's at the centre of the Earth, and some claim that it's in a cave at the bottom of the sea. They call it the fool's quest, Harry, because there is no Source of Magic. It's in the trees and Earth and air that surrounds us. That's why magic won't work so high off the ground."
"So I've read, many times over," said Harry, shrugging his shoulders. "Still, no one's ever empirically tested the claim, so I can't abandon the idea without giving it my best try."
Neville felt sorry for him. He was the most ambitious person Neville had ever met, but he always had to chase after the most ridiculous goals. If Neville had Harry's brains, he would do something more practical, like developing magical cures for diseases. Such as, Cruciatus induced insanity.
"Well, now that you've figured it out," said Harry briskly. "That means you are no longer an unbiased observer, and you most likely can't be involved with any more experiments related to this endeavour. I don't suppose there's any chance you'd be willing to memory charm away the information?"
Neville gave him a pointed look. "Harry, I might be a loyal Hufflepuff, but I'm not stupid. No more experiments for me, thanks."
After Neville left, Harry dried off the broom and placed it back in his pouch. He set his wand to dry his own robes, and then his Hufflepuff side ripped on him about the need for atonement, etcetera, but he ignored it. Just because his friend almost died didn't mean he had to risk contracting pneumonia.
With everything in order, he took a walk around the Hogwarts Lake. Sometimes physical activity could get the gears working in his brain, especially when he was feeling particularly frazzled in the thinking department.
Harry pulled the transfigured balls from his pocket. Transfiguration was a relatively simple way to test the quality of a magic spell. If the transfiguration held for a long time, that meant the magic that formed it was strong. If it faded quickly, that meant it was weak.
Harry examined them. They had all turned back to their original form, of course. Harry didn't know if they'd all de-transfigured at the exact moment that the magic had failed, since he had been too busy trying not to die to check. Fortunately, the magic on the portkey and the Feather-Fall potion had been more resilient, and he'd been able to use both once they'd descended far enough back into the atmosphere.
It had not been part of the plan to put his friend's life in danger, but he had learned something valuable. The area above the Earth's surface at which magic failed was not entirely consistent. There was a range, and he suspected he'd just found one of the lower levels.
It had especially not been part of his plan to reveal to Neville he was looking for the Source of Magic. He'd considered Obliviating him, but Harry still felt guilty for doing that to him (along with the entire Hufflepuff common room) last year. Harry knew he needed to think of a better way to handle his own mistakes, and besides, he suspected he was being overly cautious about this particular secret. Neville was loyal enough not to tell anyone about his "fool's quest" for the Source of Magic.
All the same, Harry was thinking if there were such a thing as a Source of Magic as described in fantasy books, then his task would be much simpler.
If magic flowed from the Earth like a fountain, why, he would just have to scoop it up and take some with him into space. If it were dependent on the presence of biological materials, then he should just take an armful of plants with him and presto, magic would function. If there were a key, or an artefact, then he could extract it and take it with him.
The magical fountain idea was silly, though, since his experiments had shown that magic seemed to work just as effectively at any point on the Earth's surface. It was also unlikely to be biological matter, since the entire solar system was made of the same basic elements as Earth. Just being "organic" made as little difference to its intrinsic qualities as gold in nugget versus brick form. The only theory that could possibly be true was the Source of Magic being in the Earth's centre, but he'd need more than speculation before he started drilling.
Still, he'd painstakingly tested all the theories, just to make sure he wasn't missing something. Cognitive bias was a thing Harry was known to run away with every once in a while.
He was beginning to come up with his own theory—this was a problem that humanity had faced once before.
Electrical power existed within the Earth from time immemorial. Scientists observed it in lightning strikes and little static jolts. Yet the power was not easily accessible, and so for centuries people made due with fire. It was only in the 1800s that some enterprising person had created an electromagnetic generator, and someone else, a lightbulb, and then several others improved upon it so that it stopped blowing up after a couple minutes. Thomas Edison's direct currents and Tesla's alternating currents had revolutionized the system, and, city block by city block, they lit up the dark sky and changed the world forever.
Harry had a hunch that magic worked the same way. The magic in space was there, but it wasn't structured for spellcasting. A spell would either fail to work, or it would blow up in your face. If Harry was going to make it to the stars, his first and most important task was to find out how to make magic function in space.
The problem Harry was facing was that it wasn't something he could do alone. Well, he could try but…come on, he was trying to set up a magic network in space. That had to be a two person job, at least. Most great discoveries were made by teams of scientists working together.
But who did Harry have? A bunch of high schoolers, whose training in rational thinking consisted of a twenty minute science lesson from McGonagall at the end of transfiguration. Even Harry's own science group still struggled with calculus. Aside from acting as test subjects, most of them were little help. There were a couple students, like Padma and Dean Thomas, who were making great strides, but Harry was still reluctant to involve them. It set off his Danger Alarm, just like the thought of inventing muggle weapons, or testing out his "get rich quick" schemes.
He would tell Hermione, if she ever asked. But except for Defence class, he'd barely seen her all of September.
Once Harry had enough money (and found a way to circumvent the Statute of Secrecy), he would be able to hire his own research team, and maybe a few of his classmates would be skilled enough to join him. Maybe then he could start making some real progress.
Until then, he was Nikola Tesla, testing out his theories as a lone wolf, hoping to crack the secrets of the universe.
Hermione walked with a bounce in her step down the empty hallway, before twirling as she rounded a corner.
It was 9:46 pm on Thursday evening, and she was finally done with tournament prep.
Hermione hummed a tune, whose words she couldn't remember, but it was probably Disney. They had songs for all sorts of occasions. She passed an open window, the little rays shining through like Earth's own brand of magic.
No more 30 hour days filled with meticulously casting charms and breaking hexes. No more eating a quick lunch before dashing off to complete endless bothersome tasks. She'd still have tournament duties in the days before each event, of course, but the hard work was done. She could finally—dare she think it?—focus on her homework and being a normal teenage girl. Or, well, whatever her version of normal was.
She didn't realize the weight until she was free of it, and now she felt positively giddy. Such a grand occasion, she thought, must be celebrated. So, she turned to the open window, drew her wand, and cast the Avis charm.
A flock of translucent nightingales flew into the clear night, chirping their song. Their bright glow reminded her of the Patronus charm. She smiled and leaned out the window, watching them flutter and sing with the joy of being alive.
It occurred to Hermione that, if her life were a Disney movie, this would be the moment she would start singing for her prince to come. In fact, according to movie logic, somewhere down in the bushes was a prince wandering around, waiting to fall in love at first sight. And then, of course, he would be captured and it would be up to her and a plucky team of magical animals to rescue him.
Hermione chuckled. Still, as nice as it would be to have one, Hermione knew a prince wasn't going to make her dreams come true. She would have to do that on her own.
Ever since she was in preschool, Hermione had wanted to make a difference in the world. She was inspired by stories of Martin Luther King and Mother Theresa, and she used to daydream about fighting crime like a superhero. When she came back from the dead with super powers, Hermione felt a grave sense of responsibility. It wasn't just a childish fantasy anymore. Maybe, if she were smart enough and brave enough, she really could change the world.
When she was 13 years old, she tested her abilities against criminals in her hometown, but that ended up putting her in handcuffs. Then, while she was in prison wondering where it all went wrong, Madam Bones rescued her and brought her into her office in the Ministry. She'd made Hermione a proposal: she would teach and train her, help her to realize her full abilities, and then Hermione would help Madam Bones protect the Wizarding world.
Hermione eagerly accepted. She saw her life planned out, a map that lead her to her Great Cause. The Aurors would teach her the skills she needed to be a competent witch and fighter, and she would climb the ranks, making allies and reforming the system from the inside out. Why, she could even see herself as the next Minister of Magic. She could help protect the innocent in Magical Britain, and hopefully someday, the world.
She sighed, watching one of birds explode into sparks against the wall. What she hadn't realized was just how much she would have to struggle to achieve her dream. It's not like she'd expected it to be easy, but sometimes if felt like she was trying to sprint an uphill marathon. She knew all the struggle would be worth it, and she wasn't going to give up, but she had not chosen an easy path. Sometimes, she just wanted a break to catch her breath.
She checked her Auror mirror again, but Harry still hadn't responded to her message. It figured that the one night she was free, he was busy. She couldn't really blame him, though. Sometimes she checked her mirror after several days and found five or six messages from him. He'd probably left the mirror on his nightstand, since why bother checking it anymore? Feeling a twinge of sadness, Hermione put aside her mirror and resigned herself to spending the evening with someone else.
The common room for the 7th year Beauxbatons students was eerily quiet, which was unusual for this time of night. Even the hallways seemed less crowded than usual. Hermione put on her invisibility cloak and walked behind a Ravenclaw 1st year going into her old common room, and noticed that the blue tower was sparsely populated as well.
Hermione pulled off her cloak, sat down on the couch, and thought about what to do. Perhaps she could read a book and wait for a chance to join in someone's conversation? She glanced around the room, at the clusters of 2nd and 3rd years that she didn't know. She tried to remember what people did during "hang outs," and for some reason kept coming back to playing tag or Chutes and Ladders…
With a sudden deflating feeling, she realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd tried to relate to a classmate on a normal level. Even at Beauxbatons, she was still just the smart kid who skipped ahead a few grades, the celebrity nobody really knew.
Hermione frowned. She could make the audience laugh during her interviews. It shouldn't be that hard to have a conversation with someone about shared interests, but she didn't even know where to start.
In moments like these, Hermione would go into imagination mode and have practice conversations, just in case she needed to have a real one.
Hi, Hermione! said Person 1. What's your favourite book?
Oh, well, there's so many, I don't even know where to start! Could you give me a category? Or maybe a year range of publication? Hold on, I think I have a list of favourite books somewhere in my pouch...
She grimaced. Hopefully no one would ask her that question.
Hi. Hermione! said Person 2. What's your favourite movie?
That's easy. I really love the Princess Bride. I think the characters are so funny! But I also really love Beauty and the Beast, and I hope someday I get to dance in a library full of books, and maybe get my own talking teacup. Wait…that's weird, hold on—
Hermione's mirror pinged, breaking her out of her inner monologue. She sighed. Most of the time, her mirror ringing meant someone needed her to be somewhere.
Then she remembered it might be Harry.
She pulled her mirror from her pocket, and the viewscreen opened to Tonks, her electric green hair whipped by the wind. Surrounding her was a throng of people waving sparkling wands.
"Hermione!" she called, a grin splitting her face. "Get to Hogsmeade right now!"
"Why?" asked Hermione, standing up.
"The Weird Sisters are holding a secret gig!" Someone screamed in the background, which was answered by a chorus of screeches. Tonks swept the mirror, showing the horde of people in the town centre. "Look at this crowd! This is going to be insane!"
Hermione had heard of the Weird Sisters. In every dorm, there was always someone who felt compelled to share their music with the world, at high volume at 11:00 at night. And this was at Beauxbatons, where even the strongest fans were moderate compared to the fanatical devotion of Hogwarts students, especially Gryffindor. The not-so-secret gig that had emptied Hogwarts on a Thursday night would probably be so legendary that the students would be comparing it to Woodstock and telling their grandchildren all about it.
It was not Hermione's kind of thing at all. She read books, practiced magic spells, and smiled pleasantly in fan photos. She didn't think she'd enjoy having her eardrums impaled by loud music and firecracker charms, while being crushed by a crowd of sweaty teenagers. And if she did go, and someone got hurt, chances are she'd get stuck performing first aid.
"Ummm…" said Hermione. "Isn't it…sort of…against the rules to go to Hogsmeade during the week?"
"Who cares?" Tonks laughed. "Even Hagrid is here!"
Some of the Ravenclaws, who were listening in on the conversation, bewailed the fact that they had no one to take them to Hogsmeade. Which meant that, even if Hermione stayed in Hogwarts, that's what the depressing topic of conversation would be. She could maybe try to play a game with them, but they were younger girls, and she had a feeling it would be weird. Otherwise, she could just read a book and go to bed.
Hermione grimaced. It was the same old routine. Study, read, go to bed early like a good girl. Would it really hurt that much to try something outside her comfort zone? And besides, even if this was a horrible mistake, she was a troll unicorn witch. She could handle it.
Hermione took a deep breath and let it out.
"I'll meet you there," she said.
