Chapter III

Musings on Magic

The Slytherins rejoined each other the following morning in a crowded King's Cross Station. The Three families passed together through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾. It was no less crowded on this side, but each of them felt more comfortable. It was crowded with their people. They were bid farewell by the adults as steam billowed from the Hogwarts Express, signaling exodus was imminent. Draco did his best to ignore his mother as she hugged him, but Hermione returned Narcissa's embrace easily. Daphne watched on stoically as Nicolas Greengrass instructed his daughters to behave – a stern eye turned towards Astoria. The smaller Greengrass didn't pay much attention. Hermione could tell that her mind was already at Hogwarts. Theodore did not receive any parting words from his father, just a firm shove to follow the others onto the train.

The group found their usually compartment. It already held a few new first years but they were quickly evicted by the burly Crabbe and Goyle, who had arrived just in time to do the dirty work.

"So who's going to enter the tournament?" Draco asked as his gorillas stowed everyone's trunks above them.

"No doubt you fancy yourself?" Daphne sniffed.

Draco only smirked.

"What tournament?" Hermione asked, sitting next to him.

"Oh, I forgot you didn't know," said Draco. "We're hosting the Triwizard Tournament."

"What is that?"

"Only the most bloody exciting thing to hit Hogwarts in years," Tracey laughed from the doorway, tugging her trunk in. "Literally."

"Three wizards are selected from the three major schools in Europe to compete against each other," said Daphne. "The winner gets a nice stack of galleons and glory eternal."

"Or that's what they'll tell you," said Tracey, handing her trunk off to a disgruntled Crabbe. "You can only really count on the galleons. I personally don't know any previous winners."

"There hasn't been a tournament in two centuries," Nott murmured, hands tucked neatly in his pockets.

"Yes, but it's labeled eternal," said Tracey. "And if I can't name one winner, it's, at most, passing eminence."

"More glory than you'll ever earn, Davis," breathed Nott.

Tracey took the window seat next to Daphne and made a face at Theodore.

"It could be a witch," Astoria said on the other side of Daphne, a hopeful tone to her voice. "Are you entering, Hermione?"

"I don't know," Hermione said carefully. "I'm not entirely sure what it entails."

"It's usually three tasks," Draco said.

"But I'm sure you could sweep it," Astoria grinned.

Hermione laughed at the girl's confidence and settled her head on Draco's shoulder for the long journey. "We'll see. I'm not all-powerful."

"Close enough," said Astoria.

"Hogwarts has to have a champion," said Draco as he reached an arm around her shoulder. "Who else is it going to be? Potter?"

I-I. ⌡. Γ┐

"Death toll?" Hermione whispered to Draco. "You didn't say anything about that to me."

Draco shrugged. "I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't abide any heinously dangerous tasks."

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Tri-Wizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleon personal prize money."

Hermione snapped her attention to Daphne. "A nice stack?"

Daphne's lip curled. "Indeed."

A thousand galleons might be pennies to the rich purebloods Hermione was surrounded by, but to Hermione it was a small fortune. A beginning. Somewhere to start from, to start separating herself from her parents. She couldn't rely on them for everything. Not everything magical, at least. They had already made their opinions clear on that subject.

"The heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age – that is to say, seventeen years or older – will be allowed to forward their names for consideration. This is a measure we feel necessary, given that tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion."

Hermione could almost see Astoria deflate. Others were more vocal with their disappointment. From across the hall she could hear the Weasley twins shouting. The students were dismissed and began their slow shuffle out of the hall. Hermione had made it ten yards past the doors when the black-robed Professor Snape swooped in front of her. He fixed Hermione with a glare and sent Draco and the others on with a jerk of his head. "The Headmaster requests your presence," he said, voice silky smooth. Snape took off in the opposite direction, towards the main staircase, pushing through the tide of students with ease. Hermione had to hurry to keep in his wake. Snape took her up several flights before setting off towards the familiar hallway where Dumbledore's office lay.

Snape opened the door and sent Hermione up the stairs by herself.

Dumbledore's office hadn't changed much from her second year. The last gleams of sunlight were shining through the window on the far side of the room, beyond the headmaster's desk. A pale golden glow fell upon the cluttered office. Little baubles and instruments, some whizzing softly and others sitting as still as stone, were piled on various tables and stools around the room.

A small caw from above made Hermione look up. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, had perched himself on a stone outcropping and studied Hermione with one large eye. She didn't really know what to call him. Dumbledore's pet sounded… well, Fawkes was not a pet. She was sure of it. He was intelligent – probably more intelligent than most of the students bumbling off to bed below. He could very well be sentient. Which made him more like Dumbledore's friend, though that sounded weird. But it also made sense. Dumbledore was the type of person to have a bird as a friend.

Fawkes spread his massive wings and soared down, landing on a nearby table. He did an odd hop from foot to foot as he folded his wings into his sides. He made a chirping sound. Almost like a friendly "hello".

Hermione took a step nearer. "Hello, Fawkes," she said. "It's been a while."

The firebird blinked his eyes at her.

"I don't remember if I ever thanked you. For what you did in the chamber."

Fawkes wiggled a bit. Like a shrug.

"So… thank you." Hermione shook her head. Talking to a bird. Even a magical one…

He stuck out his neck, extending his head towards her. Fawkes cawed softly. When Hermione didn't respond, he tilted his head down and pushed forward again. Hermione lifted her hand hesitantly. Slowly, she began to stroke the top of the phoenix's head. She couldn't recall any time she had touch a bird. It wasn't like petting Crookshanks. He was soft and fluffy. Fawkes' head was bony, angular, and his feathers felt oily, though nothing stuck to her hands.

"I believe he likes you," Dumbledore said from behind her. He had entered silently. "Or perhaps he means to make me jealous," he laughed as he walked across the room. "I must admit that I haven't paid him as much attention as he likes. I've been particularly busy."

"The tournament," said Hermione.

He nodded and sat behind his desk. Hermione followed him and took the seat across from him. "Coordinating with two other schools and the ministry doesn't do any favors for my leisure activities. But we aren't here for leisure." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at her over his half-moon spectacles. "We're here to make the greatest witch of her century." The corners of his lips twitched.

"I may have… slipped into hyperbole," Hermione smiled meekly. "I think I was drugged at the time."

"On the contrary," Dumbledore's smile broke out. "I believe we have ample opportunity to do just that. Do you have any particular lessons in mind?"

"I…" She hadn't really thought about the details all that much. Sure, Hermione had been excited to work one-on-one with Dumbledore. Who else could boast of that? But she had no idea what the lesson plan to becoming the greatest witch in the world would be. "I'm not sure, sir… In my own studies I've mostly been learning more advanced spells."

"Indeed. Professor Snape has queried me on your aptitude for a certain curse. He told me that you had divulged the details to me." Hermione's mouth hung open while she searched for an answer, but Dumbledore continued. "Was I right in assuming that Tom was responsible for that?"

Hermione nodded after a moment.

"And your dabbling in the Unforgivables?"

She went stiff, unsure of how to answer. She did not want to lie to Dumbledore, least of all when she was on the brink of such a rewarding apprenticeship. But Mr. Malfoy could get in trouble for his lesson. A life's sentence in Azkaban worth of trouble. "Yes, sir," she said through a dry mouth. "Tom told me." Hermione decide to go the half-truth way. Tom had mentioned the Cruciatus curse. Not the one Dumbledore meant, but technically a correct answer to his question.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, his eyes lingering on her – suspicious, perhaps, but he seemed to accept her answer. "So you wish to learn spells?"

"Yes, sir."

"Professor Lupin said you were making progress on the Patronus Charm last year."

Hermione nodded. "I had some success, I guess."

"A notable achievement. One to add to your already growing cabinet. Many grown wizards never take the time to perfect that spell. Perhaps a more in depth study of the Patronus Charm is on the cards?"

"Sir, I am interested in, uh, more practical spells," Hermione said uncertainly.

"More practical?" His bushy eyebrows bobbed. "I am quite fond of that charm. Very underrated. However, I understand. As of now, I believe your mere exposure to the spell is well enough. What kinds of spells do you mean?"

Hermione fidgeted in her seat. "I… is it true that you dueled Grindewald?"

A grave look passed over his face, but it was gone quickly. "More than once."

"What kind of spells did you use then?" Hermione sat up a little straighter. "I don't believe that you defeated a powerful dark wizard with simple hexes and jinxes."

"No, I did not," said Dumbledore. He sat quietly for a moment. His eyes were on Hermione but they were unfocused. He wasn't looking at her. "I don't believe it would be appropriate," he said at last.

"Appropriate?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I was many times your age when we met for the last time. You are not ready for such feats. No, we should begin with a foundation."

"Oh," said Hermione, shoulders slumped. What an experience that would be, learning to duel like Dumbledore. Perhaps in the future? "So what are the foundations?"

He gave a little smile. "My experience here at Hogwarts has made me understand that education has many building blocks. It is my job to select the best stones to put in place. You may have noticed that not all classes require the proper wand movement and incantation."

Hermione nodded slowly. Practical magic made up a very small part of a Hogwarts education. Homework essays and readings made up the bulk of the course load, not to mention the classes that had no practical wand use – Potions, Herbology, History, Arithmancy. Ancient Runes was also mostly theory, though they delved into application at times. If Dumbledore was implying a heavy burden of research and study, Hermione was ready. She'd been practicing for that all of her life. "I can do the groundwork, sir."

"Tell me," said Dumbledore, "How do I light that torch, using magic?" He pointed a long, slender finger at a dark torch hanging in its bracket over her left shoulder.

It came almost immediately to Hermione. "Incendio, Professor."

"Very good. How else?"

"Uh, you could probably get it to catch fire with Confringo, but you'd risk blowing up the office," she said hesitantly.

"Very good," he nodded. "How else?"

"Blue-bell flames? Can they light other things?"

"Blue-bell fire does not burn fuel. You could put the flames there and have a fire on the torch, but it would not light that torch. How else?"

Hermione was at a loss now. "I don't remember learning any other spells to make fire."

"Oh?" chuckled Dumbledore. "Your antics had me believing that you are a clever girl, Miss Granger. You can't find another way?"

"I…" She felt her face heat. "Incendio just seems so foolproof that it's the only spell I know."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, "but realize that when I say foundation, I do not mean simply reading spell books, Miss Granger. I mean…" he suddenly had his wand in hand. Hermione involuntarily flinched backward. Dumbledore held up a hand to calm her. With the other, he lifted his wand in an arc. From the lit torch hanging on the side wall to her right, flames began sprouting. Like vines, they twisted together as the grew. Shooting overhead like a rainbow and revolving like a tornado, the flames landed on the torch on the other wall, igniting it before dissipating into the air. "That sometimes we impose rules upon magic where none actually exist." Dumbledore's eyes were truly sparkling now. "I asked how to light that torch, not create fire. Indeed, you did not need to create fire at all. Magic offers so many ways to accomplish our goals. Books usually only teach the most direct way. Perhaps, growing up in the Muggle world, you can understand. To wizards, magic is a tool. Too many times we can forget that magic is… magical. The charms and transfigurations we teach students only scratch the surface.

"So much of the magical world exists outside the confines of the wizard-wand relationship, and many do not realize it. The wand does not create the magic. It bends it to our will. Magic is everywhere. We are magic, Hermione. You are. I am. And knowing that expands our horizons drastically."

"So…" said Hermione. "We can do magic without wands?"

Dumbledore sighed. "It is certainly possible. Children undoubtedly perform accidental magic without the use of wands. But I am not speaking of that. No, I mean that the scope of magical potential is much greater than most can fathom. For instance, can you transfigure your house?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "My house is much too big to transfigure. And it's full of other things. Professor McGonagall says that the difficulty increases exponentially with size and complexity."

"But I can transfigure my desk. It holds many things," he said cheerfully.

"My house is still… my house. It twenty times as large as your desk. More, even."

Dumbledore smiled. "I once asked Minerva to transform Hogwarts Castle into a rubber duck for my birthday – so I could take a bath in the lake with a see, the squid isn't pleasant company anymore. She's a bit... anti-social nowadays. Anyway, Minerva found that request preposterous – the magic wasn't possible. 'No one can transfigure a castle, Albus', she said. But the castle transforms itself. Rooms disappear. New closets grow from nothing. There is so much magic within the castle that it changes itself. So why not the whole castle, at the same time?"

"Because…" Hermione said, "It is still too big?"

He inclined his head. "Yes. I suppose Minerva would be correct in that no one person could accomplish it. However, she was fundamentally opposed to the possibility that Hogwarts could be transfigured, not that she simply wasn't capable of the task. With enough magic, why couldn't Hogwarts be transfigured?" He waited for Hermione to give an answer but she didn't have one. "I can transfigure a goose the same as a feather. I have seen no evidence that, if I had the raw power, I could not transfigure Hogwarts.

"Now, that is relatively easy to grasp, but we can apply it to many things. Tell me what you know about ghosts."

Hermione blinked. "Uh… not much, Professor. I've never really looked into them."

"Oh?" he chuckled. "Why not?"

She pulled an apologetic face. "They kind of creep me out."

"And why is that?"

"They're dead… but they're here," she said.

Dumbledore nodded and closed his eyes. "They seem to be a paradox, at first glance. However, remember that we are magic, Hermione. Ghosts are, indeed, dead. However, they have chosen to leave a magical imprint upon our world. A portion of themselves are left to wander. Perhaps they are content to stay, as Professor Binns appears to be. Perhaps they only fear what is beyond. Perhaps they had one last task they wished to see completed. In any case, they leave ghosts behind when they die. A semi-conscious being with their memories, their motivations, their knowledge and emotions. All these things persevere through death. Through the destruction of their body. What might this mean?"

Hermione bit her lip. "That… consciousness is separate from our bodies? But that doesn't make sense. We are only sentient because of our brains have the power to comprehend the self."

"That is how we come to be when we are born, yes. We could not be capable of nurturing these advanced thoughts without physical bodies. Unicorns are perhaps more magical than us, but they do not use wands. They do not have civilization. Their bodies are not built to sustain sentience. However, ghosts bring up the possibility that there is some… mechanism to separate a mind from the body. A part of us that is not fundamentally bound to our bodies. Something… that can be left behind… or taken away."

A wave of cold passed over Hermione's heart. "Like… like the dementors? Their kiss strips someone of their soul?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yet another piece of evidence. A dementor's kiss does not kill the body, but does not leave behind the mind."

"So you're talking about the soul?" asked Hermione.

"It very well may be the soul. But I cannot answer definitively until, well," he gave a wry smile, "Until I die. At which time the line of questioning become moot, at least for my own curiosity."

"Unless you become a ghost," Hermione pointed out.

Dumbledore chuckled. "If everything goes to plan, Miss Granger, that will not happen. When I pass, I do sincerely hope for it to be peaceful, in my sleep, a bottle of good wine in my stomach, with everything sorted so I feel no need to leave a bit of me behind in this world.

"But you see how, once we look closely at what other consider mundane, there are a vast array of possibilities out there? Learning magic out of a book is all well and good for the vast majority of wizards who step through this school – and nearly all of wizarding Britain do step through these halls. Discovering ways to use magic for yourself, now that is what makes a great wizard."

Hermione gazed out the window. The sun had set now. There was no moon tonight so the only light came from the two torches burning over her shoulders. The flickering cast strange shadows over Dumbledore's wrinkled face.

"A daunting task, no doubt. But it will come to you with experience. Time and experience. For now, I only wish for you to keep that burning at the back of your mind. Perhaps after your O.W.L.s we will begin a more structured course in critical application of magic."

"After my – but that's… in two years?" Had he really thought up a two-year, even a three-year curriculum for her over the summer?

"You do plan on staying at Hogwarts the full seven years?" His voice had a hint of amusement to it.

"Of course, sir," said Hermione. "I just… didn't realize you…" Seventh year?

"Were committed to a long term project?" Dumbledore twiddled his fingers together and smiled as he took the words out of her mouth. "My dear, I would not have accepted your request if I did not believe you were worth sticking with until the end."

"I – Thank you, sir," she said.

He nodded. "We must begin somewhere. I believe it prudent to begin with a study of the past. A warning of sorts. As I have said before, magic is neither good nor evil. It is how you use it."

"Like, a history lesson?"

"Nothing so academic," said Dumbledore. "Let me ask you one last line of questions. Do you remember who you rode the Express with?"

"Oh… Well, Draco was there," she said, thinking back. "We met Daphne and Astoria on the platform. Theodore Nott was there, too. Tracey met us on the train. Crabbe and Goyle, too, I guess."

"Very good. Now, your compatriots in the carriages up to the castle?"

"It was Draco, Daphne and Nott."

"And do you remember what you talked about?"

Hermione focused on one brick of stone behind Dumbledore's left shoulder as she concentrated. "Draco and Daphne told me about the World Cup. Theodore didn't say much."

"And the others from your compartment? Who did they ride with?"

"Uh…" Now things were a bit fuzzy. "I heard Daphne tell Astoria to ride with Tracey. I might have seen them get in a carriage with Millicent. Maybe Zabini, too. Why are you asking me about this?"

"Misters Crabbe and Goyle?" Dumbledore went on.

"I don't remember," she said. "I don't pay attention to them."

"And what about the feast? The same group, I assume?"

Hermione nodded.

"Could you recount your seating arrangement?"

"Probably," Hermione shrugged. "Do I need to?"

"It is not strictly necessary," he inclined his head. "Can you tell me who was sorted into your house?"

"I didn't take notes, if that's what you mean." He tilted his head as if to tell her to take a guess. "There was a boy. Graham, I think. Maybe another – Pritchard?"

"Those names belong to the same person. Can I assume that you cannot recount the whole sorting, in order, and with each house?"

Hermione's mouth hung open for a second. "No, I can't, sir."

"Of course not," said Dumbledore, not unkindly. "But were it critical, could you find a way to learn the exact answers?"

"I don't know, sir. I might be able to find Professor McGonagall's sheet."

"But that wouldn't have the houses each student was sorted into," he said.

"I guess not."

He nodded slowly. "There is a way for you to relieve your memories, exactly as you perceived them. And other people's memories. We can take out a copy of our memories in magical form to be viewed at our leisure. I find the process quite relaxing."

"You can… take memories out of your head?" she asked.

He nodded again. "It can be dangerous if you do not know what you are doing, therefore I will not be asking for your memories. I do, however, have a selection already picked out. I believe they will be quite engaging and educational. I recently came upon a familial event I had not previously known of, and which was very enlightening. I hope you find it as thought-provoking as I did."

"Okay," said Hermione. "How do we… view them?"

"Ah," he smiled. "I will let you explain that to me the next time we meet. It is getting late and I do believe you should get some rest before classes begin." Dumbledore pushed himself out of his chair.

Hermione nodded and stood as well. "But sir… how would I know how? I've never heard of this before."

"I will give you one word. 'Pensieve'."

"Pensieve?"

"Yes. I believe that you still have you pass to the restricted section?"

Hermione smiled. It was tucked away safely in her trunk. "Yes, sir."

"Oh, and the password is carpe vinum. It is my prerogative to set passwords to house dormitories. Perhaps not quite appropriate, but I quite like the sentiment."

Hogwarts at night had a distinctly creepy feel about it. Not only was it dark and deserted, but the portraits that lined the walls emitted an odd chorus of snores. Halfway back to the dungeons she had decided that most of the snores were faked and the paintings were really watching her when she wasn't looking.


Dumbledore always seems to ramble on when I write him. I guess that's okay for the character, though.