Chapter 9

Albus's gifted glass had lain unused in my pocket for months. While it had proved most effective in breaching the rudimentary Concealment Charms I was capable of, it was far too time-consuming to use the glass on every single book I read.

Mid-October in my second year at Hogwarts an application for the lens finally occurred to me. Hidden—literally—amongst the twisting shelves of the Hogwarts library was the Invisibility Section, a set of books that purportedly dealt in, well, Invisibility. The catch was that the books were themselves invisible and near-impossible to read. Armed with Albus's gift, however, I soon filled many pages with rapidly scribbled notes.

In the canon series, the main forms of invisibility used were Disillusionment charms and—of course—Harry's cloak of invisibility. According to the tomes hidden in the Invisibility Section, these were just a few of a great many ways of hiding objects, people and places from the watchful eyes of others.

The books described in detail a great number of Charms that would conceal things from the eyes, ears, noses and even touch of others. Foremost among them was the Fidelius Charm but the book also acknowledged the unsuitability of the Fidelius Charm in situations where utter secrecy was paramount. Leaving aside the requirement of needing to place your trust in another, it was quite difficult to remove the spell should anything happen to the original Secret Keeper.

More useful was the other volume I found, which dealt in a very different form of magical concealment: Occlumency.

As I had feared, the path to becoming an Occlumens was best walked with the aid of another—more experienced—Occlumens or Legillimens. While Albus almost certainly qualified as such, he was busy with other issues and would have problems if he was seen meeting with a random student for no apparent reason. Looking back, even our meeting in Diagon Alley had been risky enough. My preference was to remain as anonymous and publically-unconnected to any counter-Voldemort efforts as possible.

Even working by myself though, the exercises prescribed by the author were a step up from the course of Muggle meditation I cobbled together before.

With another research topic checked off the list, I could finally feel like I was making progress that year.

—tN—tN—tN—

My second year in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was not progressing as well as I'd hoped. I was still keeping up in my practical magic classes of Transfiguration and Charms and Bill was keeping me afloat in Potions, but my other subjects were beginning to suffer.

The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had turned out to be a bushy-browed witch whose qualifications technically lay in the field of magical history rather than defence. While she had a good grasp on the theoretical side of the subject, her insecurity with the actual practice of the subject had proved to be her downfall. Her classes generally consisted of reading, note-taking, and impromptu quizzes. I was glad to be still pursuing my practical Defence work in the Room of Requirement and with the Weasley brothers.

As in Harry's second year, Herbology had taken a turn for the dangerous. This was a development that did not suit me. Hidden surprises of a potentially dangerous nature had made me twitchy and constantly on-edge while working in Greenhouse Three, to the detriment of my ability to focus on the assignments given.

Meanwhile, my motor skills—specifically my unsteady hands—were rendering my Astronomy lessons a course in frustration. At Madam Pomfrey's suggestion Professor Sinestra allowed me more time with my telescope which usually let me get most of my observations complete, but cut into my already-limited sleeping time.

History of Magic... Binns hadn't changed tack at all. I was no more successful at staying focused in his classes than before, but the greater challenge was posed by the steadily-lengthening essays we were assigned regularly.

While Madam Hooch appreciated that I was working on conquering my anxiety regarding heights, the fact remained that I was far from the top of the class and the period was often an exercise in anxiety from start to finish.

I persevered and turned my assignments in on time, even if the ink was occasionally still drying when they landed on the teacher's desk. I behaved myself in class and outside it. I managed to sneak away to the Room of Requirement on most days to continue to hone my spellwork. I met with the Weasley brothers—Percy had now joined us to make a quartet—three to four days a week and they helped to keep both my grades and my spirits high.

But inside I was beginning to despair. Even six months earlier I would have laughed at anyone who told me I would tire of learning magic. Now... now I felt trapped. Like I was just going through the motions. I could see the signs already. The later and later assignments. The increasing time consumed by once-simple tasks. Previously enjoyable social engagements were becoming a chore.

Sooner or later, something was going to crack. And not only had I found no solution to the problem in my first life, but I doubted magic would have any answers. I was on my own.

Or perhaps not.

Digging out the Concealment Charms I learned from the Invisibility Section, I composed and charmed a second letter to Dumbledore and dispatched Kuro.

All I could do was wait.

—tN—tN—tN—

"Alohomora!"

Released from their trunk by my spell, no less than four different Bludgers shot into the air, more than I'd ever tried to deal with at once in the past. By the end of my first year, I was consistently able to subdue three Bludgers in under two minutes without sustaining visible injuries. It had taken me a month to work back up to that level after returning, but I finally felt ready to step up my training.

Two of the Bludgers went high above my head and out of my sight. Another zipped away to my right. The last one barreled straight towards me.

"Impedimenta!" I spat, slashing my wand towards the oncoming ball before jumping to the right. The Bludger I fired at swerved to avoid my spell while two others whipped through where I'd been standing a moment before, one at head height and the other at stomach level. Twisting quickly, I caught movement in the corner of my eye and ducked under the final Bludger a second before it would have collided.

"Immobilius!"

This time my aim was true, letting me score my first hit and caused the Bludger I just dodged to fall out of the air. Its siblings, however, were intent on not giving me any time to celebrate. One barely missed taking my leg out from under me while a second was deflected by a wobbly Shield charm at the last moment. The third continued to circle instead of pressing the attack.

I had begun to get the impression that being stored together constantly had lead to the Bludgers to develop some kind of pack hunting instinct. It certainly seemed like they were getting more and more tactical in how they attacked me. One of them always seemed to come at me from a blind spot while I was focused on another one. Moreover, after I downed the first one, the remaining three began to swerve away immediately after I dodged or deflected them, preventing me from landing another spell in the same way.

I was not without some tricks of my own though.

"Ventus!" I said, focusing the spell into a wide cone of wind emanating from the tip of my wand. Two of the Bludgers were caught in the gust and were pushed away from me towards the wall. I wasn't yet strong enough to blow them away completely—I suspected that I wouldn't even have as much success as I did if the Bludgers weren't already worn down from years of battling winds and Beater's bats—but it was enough to give me some space to react.

It also left me open to attacks from behind while I was focusing in front of me. Hoping I'd timed it right, I dropped the Wind Charm—the Bludgers caught in it immediately shot off at odd angles and bounced off the walls, caught off-guard at the sudden lack of resistance—and spun around to fire my wand behind me.

"Glacius!"

The crackling stream that left my wand made a thin wall of ice sprout from the ground. Flicking my wand upwards, I made the ice surge up just in time for the other Budger to crash into it. I jumped to the side to avoid the splintered chips of ice and fired off another "Immobilius" at the Bludger. Slowed and confused by the impact of an unexpected obstacle, it was unable to dodge and I claimed my second victim.

The wall of ice I conjured was quite fragile already and shattered completely as a Bludger cannoned through it. A "Protego" sprang from my lips and protected me from the flying shards of ice. My mastery of the Shield Charm was still incomplete, however. Among other deficiencies, I could only defend in one direction at once and by blocking the falling ice, I left myself open to another attack from behind.

I dropped to my knees, arms held over my head, and pulled off a clumsy attempt at a forward roll. It was awkward in the robes I made myself practice in, but I was vindicated by the whoosh of another Bludger hurtling over me. I clambered back to my feet as quickly as I could, immediately having to jump to the side to dodge another attack.

The remaining two Bludgers had decided on the strategy—and I really was sure that they were learning now—of not giving me a moment to breathe or attempt to set up another trick like I had with the ice wall. Abandoning the strikes from my blind spot—rendered ineffective without a third Bludger anyway—they came at me with furious intensity from one direction after the other.

I was able to keep them in view almost constantly and didn't have too much trouble dodging, but I was quickly running short on breath. As fast as they were moving, it would be hard to pick off one of them unless they were going straight towards or away from me and with the timing they had I was too busy recovering from the previous pass or reacting to the next one to take advantage of the opportunity. I was beginning to think that I'd have to take a hit to take out one of them and then pick off the remaining one once it no longer had backup when a better idea occurred.

Still jumping about to avoid the Bludgers, I fired one "Glacius!" after another straight up at the ceiling. I couldn't afford to look up to see what kind of progress I was making, but I kept at it until I estimated I'd created a reasonable density of ice. Taking a deep breath, I prepared to cast twice in quick succession.

"Incendio!"

I put as much effort into the Fire-making spell as I could. Generally, casting the same spell wouldn't always produce the exact same result and it'd taken me a while to conclude that the result depended on what the caster was trying to achieve. The idea of 'putting energy' into a spell was just a handy metaphor for trying to produce a bigger-than-usual effect. In this case, I was trying for something a bit bigger than a few sparks to light a candle. Instead, I conjured a flash of fire roughly the size of a baseball from my wandtip and sent it rocketing skywards.

Spinning my wand around again as fast as I could, I cast the most complete "Protego!" that I could. My efforts generated a thin half-dome around me just as my fire spell hit the ice.

I was just a second-year, so there were limits to how much my spells could accomplish. Nonetheless, I was pretty proud of the combined cracking and hissing that heralded a slew of water and chunks of melting ice plummeting down around me. It sloughed off my Shield for a moment before the next Bludger crashed off it and I was drenched, but its work was done.

The sudden change in weather had distracted the Bludgers and caused them to abort their next attack run. This gave me just enough time to take aim and tag them both in quick succession.

Robes dripping, I checked my watch and found that it had taken me a little over six minutes to take care of the four Bludgers. Definite room for improvement. I decided to pack up for the evening and get to work on my next round of assignments.

Although I was able to adequately dry both myself and my robes, it was still a less than ideal state in which to unexpectedly meet the Headmaster.

—tN—tN—tN—

"Poe."

"Albus."

The headmaster's name slipped out before I had a chance to double-check that we were alone in the corridor. We were, as far as I could see, but I chided myself for my carelessness regardless. It wouldn't do for another student or teacher to see me addressing the headmaster so casually.

Today Dumbledore wore plum coloured robes that reminded me of the suit he wore to meet Tom Riddle for the first time. His face was creased in unmistakable worry, his eyes fixed on me from behind his half-moon glasses. His stance was not one of a person expecting trouble, not that there would have been much I could do about the situation even if he was.

"How did you know where to find me?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could think about it.

"After ascertaining that you were not present either in the library nor your House, nor were you in meeting with any of your teachers or Messrs Weasley, I came to the conclusion that you had found somewhere else to hide yourself away. Given your knowledge of this Room and predilection for privacy, it seemed likely that you would appropriate a suitable space here. When I was unable to locate or summon the entrance until your exit just a moment ago, I considered the mystery solved and awaited your return. May I ask what you were using the Room for?"

"Practice," I said, stepping back into the Room and holding the door open for the headmaster to follow, which he did.

Albus had delivered his explanation in his usual level voice, but he lacked the usual note of airiness that indicated his good humour. Its absence was worrying, far moreso than Albus's ability to track me down even within my sanctuary.

"I was working on speed and accuracy with combat spells," I explained, gesturing towards the targets along the wall with one hand whilst shutting and locking the door with my other. "After about twenty minutes on that, I started practicing against moving targets."

"Moving targets?" Albus asked, one brow quirked.

"Bludgers." I nodded towards the locked chests.

"And you were successful?"

"Eventually. They're small and fast targets and I swear they're learning. I tried four at once today for the first time and had to think outside the box to get them all."

I gave Dumbledore a brief description of the 'battle' with gestures towards the still-visible pieces of melting ice on the floor and ceiling.

"Your creativity does you credit," Albus praised me, smiling faintly. "Your reactions were well-considered under the circumstances. The ability to think tactically under fire will serve you well, should you ever enter the duelling circuit."

The "or if we go to war" went unspoken.

We both fell silent for a few moments and I watched the icicles dissolve into puddles. Eventually, I had to ask.

"Did you get my letter?"

"Indeed I did, Poe. I must say that I am both curious and worried. While I did say that you could and should approach me with any problems you may have, I found it surprising that you should find yourself vexed by schoolwork considering that, ah..."

"Considering that I helped mastermind a plan to defeat an immortal sorcerer bent on world domination?" I hadn't intended for the sarcasm, but it made its way into the sentence anyway. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Aptly put. Indeed, yes. I do understand that aptitude in solving one kind of problem does not necessitate equal ability in resolving problems of a different nature, particularly when the latter variety is so close to you. Regrettably, I find myself somewhat out of my depth."

My heart sank. To hear Dumbledore, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, admit that something was beyond him was deeply disturbing.

"My apologies, Poe. I feel I have failed as an educator, particularly if—as I suspect—you are not the first to meet problems of this type and been let down by our school. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who seek it, but I fear too many have been left to find their own way."

I dropped to the floor and rested my chin on my knees, eyes closed. I heard the swish of robes to my left followed by a muffled thump that suggested that Albus had followed my example. I spent a few minutes trying to find the right words, then to get them in order. It seemed silly that, after keeping silent on the matter through talk of Horcruxes and grand strategy that this was what loosened my tongue. But then again, hadn't Dumbledore just said it? Sometimes it was the problems close to us that were the hardest to overcome, even if they were technically smaller in scale.

"I'm from another world."

My declaration met only silence, inviting me to speak further.

"Another world, another time. It's a lot like this one, but without magic. But what it did have was a series of novels chronicling the school years of a boy called Harry Potter. I say 'novels', but there were movies and games and websites and oh so much fanfiction. Harry is a hundred times more famous there than he is here.

"I read those stories while I was growing up. My parents read them to me at night at first. Then I started reading them by myself, one after the next. The Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, the Prisoner of Azkaban, the Goblet of Fire, the Order of the Phoenix, the Half-Blood Prince and the Deathly Hallows. I read and reread them cover-to-cover. Knew the minutest detail off by heart. That's where it all came from, the stuff in that letter. Everything that I could think of that went wrong in the course of the books. Everything that made the happy ending that bit more bitter than sweet.

"I don't know how I got here. Maybe something happened just before I left that other world, my old life, but I can't remember it now. So much of it is hazy and blurred. I can't remember my family's faces or what my old school looked like. I can remember my old name, though I prefer this one. And I can remember the books, of course.

"In a way, this was a dream-come-true. 'Take a step into the wonderful wizarding world of Harry Potter! Attend Hogwarts, learn magic and so much more!'. Except that the problem is that it's still me that's here. It's a me with magic and extra-special knowledge and a chance to make a difference, but it's still me with all my strengths and flaws. And I didn't like school. I don't like study. I struggle with basic stuff and have to hold a straight face when people talk about how special I was for figuring out one or two flashy tricks. Am. Was. Same difference.

"My point, Albus, is that this is something I've dealt with for years now, across two lifetimes. It's something that experts had not come up with a magic—metaphorically, that is—solution for in my old life, in spite of having decades of research. I don't blame you for not knowing what to do. That'd be pretty irrational of me."

More silence.

Then Albus let out a long, deep, breath.

"I cannot deny that I was curious about the source of your remarkable knowledge. I thought that you might speak to me of it in time and I'm gratified that you trust me so. I must admit that, of all the strange and wondrous things in my life, your story surely stands as one of the most curious."

"It's true—"

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I believe you and can find no actual flaws in your story. Like with all truly great questions, your answer has only fed my curiosity. How delightful."

While Dumbledore chuckled quietly to himself, I could only feel relief. I was scared that he would not believe me or suspect I was hiding something else. Being able to talk to someone about it... It made things much easier like a weight had been lifted.

"However while this explains a great many things, it does not resolve the problem that brought me to meet with you today. I have kept my distance as much as I've been able to, at your own request. If you wish to change that, I could find some time to tutor you personally, if that would be of any help?"

"Personal tutoring did help a lot last time," I said quietly, turning the idea over in my head. My immediate reaction was to refuse the offer, but I forced myself to think about it rationally and try to find actual reasons to accept or deny the help. "But it would cause problems. And it wouldn't solve the greater problem since I don't think even you could provide personal tutoring to every struggling student."

"Indeed," Dumbledore acquiesced, bowing his head in further thought.

"But perhaps something else..." I continued, beginning to cobble together the components of a plan. "A correspondence of some sort, perhaps? I think I'll be fine in Charms and Transfiguration so long as there's a direct link between the theory and practice aspects. Same for Potions, save for me speed issues. The Dicta-Quill that Bill and Charlie got me last year makes the essays manageable, even if I can't use it in the Library... if I can figure out Muffliato then I might be able to though."

Dumbledore sat there quietly while I thought aloud. It must have been a bizarre sight, Albus Dumbledore and a second-year student sitting against a wall while one of them seemingly mumbled to themselves.

"Okay, I'm not sure it'll work and I doubt it'd be perfect, but do you know of any people who would be willing to take questions from confused students and write patient, thorough, answers to them? As a correspondence thing? Maybe retired teachers or something. If there was a program like that in place, it'd be better than nothing, I think. I have a few ideas for communications systems that might work better, allow some kind of telepresence, but those'll take a lot of work..."

—tN—tN—tN—

It was late by the time I finished my discussion with Albus. Too late for a student to be wandering around outside of their House.

Being escorted back to said by the headmaster waived any potential punishments, though the given excuse of my being trapped by a trick corridor would probably haunt me for a while. It was just as well that I didn't pay much attention to rumours.

Albus had agreed to look into establishing some form of correspondence system with some retired teachers and other experts in various fields. I also suggested that recent Hogwarts graduates might be willing to help out, though he was a bit more sceptical of that idea. In the meantime, he expected at least two owls a week on whatever I was having difficulty with.

Nothing had actually been solved, but it was a step towards a solution. And sometimes that was all that mattered. Taking steps in the right direction.