Chapter written while listening to MisterWives' Vagabond.
Chapter 18
September 2, 1938
Harry was at once irritated and overjoyed that their first day of school was a Friday. They were finally at Hogwarts, the school that he'd heard about all of his life, the school which he had waxed poetic about after first meeting Tom. But instead of being thrust right into the wonders of magical education, they were going to have a dull day filled with introductory "this is what we'll be learning" speeches in every class, followed by a whole weekend to wait after receiving their first taste of the future! On most occasions, Harry welcomed the weekends he spent with Tom crawling around London's streets and roofs, practicing their magic in secluded parks, but he found himself torn.
Harry sighed, turning over in his bed and pulling his silky covers higher over his head. A finger poked him in the ribs.
"Dove, don't be such a twit. Get up."
"Nah. You can go and impress all the teachers and I'll just stay here in this warm, amazing bed. It's roomier when it's empty." Harry lifted a hand and made a rude gesture in accompaniment.
"What do you think the others will do to you if they find you asleep once they get their sleepy arses out of bed? I'm sure you remember the impression we made yesterday."
"Fine," Harry said, wriggling out of his covers with a quiet huff. He patted down his hair, feeling that it was again on a journey to defy gravity. He cast his eyes about their dormitory, noting the sedate movements of the magic of the other first-years. They were asleep. Good. He dragged his feet as he walked to his trunk at the foot of the other bed, collapsing on the stone ground in front of it with a muffled whine.
"What is it now?" Tom walked behind Harry and kicked him. Harry leaned his head back against Tom's legs and gave a plaintive hiss.
"I don't want to look for clothes. There's so much stuff in there and there's not enough magic for me to see it all. Do it for me, please?" Harry widened his eyes and tried to look miserable.
Tom hissed in quiet irritation but leaned forward anyway, flipping through the trunk and finding Harry's clothes in a matter of seconds. "Since we haven't been told what classes we have, I think we should leave our supplies in here."
"Works for me," Harry said, scrambling to his feet with a victorious grin and donning his clothes with uncharacteristic speed. His magic swirled around him in excitement as he leaned forward to look into Tom's eyes. "Tom, can we please go explore? Knowing you, it's so early that nobody is awake but the birds."
Tom raised an eyebrow before turning and heading for the door. Harry huffed and followed his glowing form, glittery gold threads of magic spinning in amusement. "Where are we going?"
They raced through the halls on silent feet, emerging out into the Common Room. It looked eerie to Harry's eyes; the whole room was covered in colours that were far too similar to Harry and Tom's magic for comfort. Deep blue lanced up and down, creating pillars of thick-woven magic that seemed to hold the room together. The space in between was covered in sheets of pale green woven in a pattern so intricate that Harry couldn't decipher where one strand ended or began. The magic would have been a mirror copy to his and Tom's if not for the crystalline purple that danced around the whole room in thin strands, glittering as if struck with the light of a mysterious underground sun.
"Sage," Tom said at the same second that Harry said, "Like ours." They stared at each other for a second before Harry continued. "It's dark blue and pale green, like ours is. Except it's purple instead of gold. I don't know about you, but that makes me nervous."
"Maybe we're special, like I've been telling you all of these years." Tom's magic spun about in smug satisfaction as he tapped Harry on the nose.
Harry rolled his eyes but dismissed it. "Fine, Kit. We can muse about our fabulous magic later. Right now, I want to explore! Find our classrooms, find the library—we need to visit it—and maybe search out the other Common Rooms."
"Now you're all enthusiastic?" Tom sighed but took off at a slow lope towards the door. Harry raced off after him on light feet, both of them speeding through countless corridors like silent ghosts. The magic around them was the same colour combination as the Slytherin Common Room until they reached a main hallway. Then, the magic was a rainbow of blue, grey, brown, gold, red, green, and purple, mixed together in a chaotic yet elegant mess. Harry's eyes picked out repeating patterns and order as he raced after Tom, resolving to investigate them later.
Ahead, Tom launched himself onto a staircase that began moving to the side, landing on one foot and throwing Harry a challenging grin. Harry raised his eyebrows as he leapt onto it as well. Running up the staircase was disorienting as it grounded itself against a different landing, the scrape of stone against stone causing the stairs beneath Harry's feet to sing with glorious vibrations. Tom turned on his heel and jumped onto another staircase. Harry followed close behind, closing the distance between them as he sailed over the steps as if he had wings. His magic burst around him in a cheery, exhilarated vortex, spinning threads of gold licking at the rainbow walls of the castle and giving Harry faint impressions of the spells woven into the stone.
Tom's magic was a whirlwind of adrenaline as Harry drew next to him on the narrow staircase. They moved as one onto the next one, magic flowing between them freely as if there were no questions about it belonging to the both of them. Harry's feet bounded across stone, not held back anymore by human ideas of safety. He was magic; he could not be hurt. Harry could see again. Not the same way he saw when he was five, but not inferior at all. There was no danger, now; Harry imagined that if he were to fall at this exact moment, his magic would preserve him and he would walk away unscathed.
The staircase they were on moved away from the landing, stranding them in mid-air. Harry jumped, grabbing onto the railing of the landing and flipping over it with a ringing laugh. Tom landed next to him, breathing shallow. They looked at each other, twin maelstroms, and grinned with some emotion they couldn't name. They had a purpose, in the beginning, but it was lost in the speed and the intoxicating flush of magic letting itself free as it seldom could before. They were magic, in a castle that was magic. They lived in its veins.
Eventually, they slowed, Harry once again taking time to enjoy the sights. They were on the highest floor, he thought, for they had run out of staircases. The corridors were lined in what Tom described to be "old paintings filled with stuck-up codgers and landscapes alike." Magic arched out in delicate strands like marionette strings above the paintings, moving as if being played by an invisible wind. Harry could hear rheumatic wheezing, leaves rustling in strong wind, and quiet snoring as they made their way further into the castle. They made no move to discuss their strange run as they walked past windows that started to warm Harry's skin with early morning sunlight.
Harry mused on the strange colours of the magic in the Common Room, a flash of memory prompting a quiet huff.
"What is it?" Tom asked, not looking away from the paintings on the walls.
Harry tilted his head in thought. "I can't get the colours of the Common Room out of my head. I think that yesterday there was a tower which had the exact same colour combination. I didn't really pay that much attention to it because it was just one tower out of a rainbow of colours, but if it's made again with magic that looks like ours… that's a little strange, don't you think?"
"Why is it strange?" Tom said, raising an eyebrow. "Surely you can't expect for everyone to have completely unique magic? There are only so many colours."
"You don't understand! There are so many shades…and they're different in like, texture too, or something. That purple wasn't normal; it was glittery like crystals. Our gold…it's shiny magic."
Tom burst out laughing. "Shiny magic! We have the shiniest magic!"
Harry stared at Tom, narrowing his eyes. Tom looked at Harry and composed himself before nodding for Harry to continue.
"If magic has an infinite range of colours, textures, and possible combinations…what are the chances that we find magic that has two out of three of our colours? And the third colour is not normal either. What if it means something?" Harry motioned towards himself and Tom. "Remember what I said we used to be? I used to be dark green, with some pale green, and gold. You were dark blue and pale green. Now we're the same! Our magic is identical! It has to mean something."
Tom's magic curled around him in jagged spirals. His voice was flat. "After lessons, we're going to the library. Remember what Ollivander said about us? What you told me the hat said after everyone fell asleep?"
Harry nodded. He could still remember the whispery voice that carried itself out of the door after them, "I will see you later, little Weaver…" and the suspicious evasions of the Sorting Hat. They would figure it out, whatever it was. The secret was dangerous, but wasn't it even more so if they were ignorant of it?
Tom and Harry sat down next to Avery and Mulciber, across from Rosier, Nott, and Malfoy. They didn't want to run down the stairs now that the sun was out and people were waking up. Tom had no idea what had come over him that early morning, and wasn't sure what to think of it. It had been an amazing experience; he had felt more himself and in control than he had been for ages among the icy storm that was the mingling of his magic and Harry's. But at the same time, he had taken ridiculous risks and performed a series of manoeuvres that he would never have done normally. Feeling invincible like that…it had been a glorious feeling, but dangerous.
"Where were you two this morning?" Avery asked, giving a wide yawn. He rubbed at his eyes before fixing them upon Tom and Harry, looking somewhat wary. It took Tom a moment to remember his lapse of control and attack of Malfoy the night before. "We woke up and you were gone already. How are you not sleepy this early in the morning?"
"It's not early," Nott said, rolling his eyes.
Avery stuck out his tongue. "I saw you drink Pepper-up this morning, you filthy liar."
Malfoy put his hand to his face. "Can you not fight this early in the morning?"
"He said it was early!" Avery said, giving a smug glare at Nott.
Malfoy sighed. He leaned a bit over the table to Mulciber, speaking low. "I'm not sure why I'm friends with those two."
"Not a difficult question," Rosier said, leaning forward toward Tom with a sly glance at Malfoy, grinning. "Our parents are all friends or friends of friends and believed that close proximity at a young age was key to lasting alliances… friendships, if that tickles your fancy more."
Tom looked sideways at Avery, now making rude gestures at Nott under the cover of his hand. "Perhaps they were getting ahead of themselves."
"It wasn't a total failure," Mulciber said, nudging Rosier with his shoulder. "I mean, we're great friends."
Rosier gave a beatific smile, patting Mulciber on the shoulder. "Of course it wasn't a failure."
Mulciber gave Rosier a suspicious look and Harry leaned into Tom, struggling to hide his snickering. Mulciber looked at Harry and then at Tom, mouth dropping open. Tom let more of his smirk show and fought down the urge to outright laugh at Mulciber's outrage.
"You're a terrible friend," Mulciber said to Rosier, sniffing and turning to Avery instead. Rosier caught Tom's eye and winked. How strange, Tom mused. It appeared that while Avery, Nott, and Malfoy were reserved, Rosier and Mulciber had little compunctions about associating with Tom after the previous night's violent encounter. Were they so self-assured in their own power that they didn't think him a danger? Or were they of the opinion that courting his good favor would be conducive to their wellbeing? Tom thought it was the latter, noting the shrewd calculation in Rosier's eyes.
"Oh, Slughorn's coming!" Avery said. "Schedules! I do hope we don't have Transfiguration today."
"Why not?" Harry asked, speaking for the first time. He righted himself and looked up the table at Avery.
Malfoy's face darkened. "Mudbloods."
Nott threw Malfoy an exasperated look. "United Slytherin front? Save this for later." He leaned in toward Tom, speaking in a whisper. "Dumbledore is the leader of all of the Light wizards, or otherwise is really important. He's an enemy of the Dark, which, not coincidentally, is what most of Slytherin is. I've heard that he favours Gryffindor heavily and is quick to accuse a Slytherin."
"Ah," Tom said, nodding. "He's the Transfiguration teacher."
"Yes. Now, you might be Mudbloods, but you're a Slytherin so you'll have to fit in, dark or not. Got it?" Nott's grey eyes were shadowed with ghostly threats that were undercut by the nervous twitch in his lips that spoke of his uncertainty.
Tom let a fake smile slip onto his face. "Of course." The other Slytherins didn't know what to make of him and Harry yet; so far Tom had given them a display of power which assured temporary equality and wariness. It wouldn't last long, though; the real tell would come from their lessons that day. No doubt Nott and Malfoy would be on the lookout for weakness.
The smell of pineapple preceded Slughorn's arrival at their section of the table. His girth combined with his straw blond hair and pale yellow-green eyes gave him the look of someone weak and prone to indulgence, although Tom noted a wicked glint in his eyes as he ran his eyes over Tom and his fellow Slytherins. "Hello, boys. Here are your schedules… you'll be seeing me later today." He gave a wide smile as he handed out the schedules. "I'm sure you'll make Slytherin proud."
"We will, Professor Slughorn," Malfoy assured, flipping his schedule open with a snap. He looked down at the schedule and smirked, sending a look at Avery, who paled.
"No."
"Sorry, Avery," Rosier said, reaching over the table to pat him on the shoulder. "It appears that your worst dreams have come true. Transfiguration first in the morning! However shall you survive?"
Avery stared down at his schedule in horror. Mulciber patted him on the shoulder as well.
The scent of winter grew stronger. Tom looked down to see Harry leaning in, whispering quietly. "What if I can't copy you fast enough? We'll look weak…"
"It's alright," Tom said, concentrating and trying to wrap his magic around Harry in a comforting way. "It doesn't matter. We can put on a show in case that happens."
Harry nodded and continued eating his breakfast in silence. Tom rubbed at the bridge of his nose before proceeding to devour his breakfast as well. He would need all the energy available in order to master the magic they were learning before the others.
"Welcome, welcome!" Professor Dumbledore said, throwing his hands up. His magic radiated cheer, bright as the sun with its subtle ivory, yellow, and green shades. Next to Harry, Tom wrinkled his nose and brought his sleeve up to cover his face. Harry sighed and stared at the area around Tom as he strengthened the thin net of magic he'd kept wrapped around Tom since they'd arrived at Hogwarts. He directed a few threads of magic to twist closer together, pushing down a smile as Tom's magic calmed and stopped flickering in irritation.
Harry cast his eyes about the room, noting the colours and characteristics of everyone's magic and categorically filing them in his mental library. Their first class of the day was Transfiguration with the Gryffindors, taught by the strange Professor Dumbledore. Harry wasn't sure what to think of Professor Dumbledore. He had been so strange back when he had visited them in the orphanage, with his evasive knowledge of Harry's background. He had recognized him so quickly…and then proceeded to provide the means for their deception. He was on Harry's side, for some reason, but he unsettled Tom, and Harry couldn't put Tom's suspicions away just because Professor Dumbledore seemed well-meaning.
"Welcome, new students! Today, I'll give a brief explanation of the subject of Transfiguration. Transfiguration is an inherently complex and dangerous magic, but it can also be one of the most rewarding magical studies. Transfiguration is the magic of changing one object to another. In later years, you'll be able to transform inanimate objects to animate objects, like so." Professor Dumbledore tapped his wand upon something wooden. His desk? Delicate strands of ivory spiralled out of his wand at high speed, latching onto something rectangular and large in twisting constructions that looked as airy as a feather. For a split second, the outline of the desk was clear and sharp-edged, like Harry was seeing with pristine clarity. Then, the magic folded in on itself, looping in with strange patterns that drew Harry's sight in like magnets. The loops settled and formed the outline of a lion, so defined that Harry could somehow see and comprehend every individual hair in the lion's thick mane. The lion shook its mane and let out a loud growl that was visible as magical ripples.
Professor Dumbledore tapped again on the lion and the loops reversed, the outline of the desk shining for a split second before the ivory magic detached from the wood and dissolved into the air. The classroom was silent for a second before most of the students erupted into raucous applause. "That was amazing," babbled a boy in the first row, and next to Harry, Tom's magic was alight with anticipation, curling over his shoulders like a python poised to strike.
"You will also be able to perform animate to inanimate Transfigurations. Unfortunately," Professor Dumbledore said, his magic curling in amusement, "you have to go through the basics first. Transfiguration consists of several branches. Transformation, Vanishment, Conjuration, and Untransfiguration, each with increasing level of difficulty. This year, we'll be focusing solely on Transformation. Now, while some incantations exist to ease the process, in the beginning we'll focus more on the theory and use the generic Transformation spell Verto. This will help all of you build a good base; not to mention, what if you suddenly have a great need of warm socks and you don't know the precise incantation?" Dumbledore's magic shivered in what Harry imagined was a silent chuckle.
Professor Dumbledore waved his wand and a swarm of box-shaped outlines in ivory flew throughout the room and distributed themselves among the students. "Today, you will be transforming a match into a needle, like so." Professor Dumbledore picked up something small from a box that had landed in front of him and tapped it with his wand, incanting Verto with a ringing voice. Harry could see tiny loops of ivory magic dancing in his fingers before settling on a form. "Begin! The notes are on the board and you have a large supply of matches to practice on. I'll be walking around to help all of you. Clear your mind and visualize the result you wish for as you incant your spell."
Harry stared dubiously at the space which he remembered the box landing at before turning to Tom. "Tom…how am I supposed to do this?"
Tom raised his eyebrows before looking in the direction of the box. "Well…let me try first?" He reached forward and placed a match on the table in front of them. Tom aimed his wand at the match and took a deep breath. His magic stilled in concentration before he quietly spoke.
"Verto."
Strands of blue swooped through Tom's wand, outlining the match for a split second before looping in a simple pattern and forming a sharper, pointier outline. Tom's magic rose in shock before he turned to Harry. "It worked," Tom said, voice hushed. "Perfectly."
Harry reached out for the box, scrabbling with his fingers before grabbing a match. He plopped it on the desk in front of himself, keeping one finger next to it to mark its location. Harry aimed his fake wand of linden wood at the match and found himself at a loss at what to visualize. He didn't remember what needles looked like; it had been so long since he had been truly sighted. He cast anyway, drawing out the strong blue magic from his wand with a shove of mental force. For some reason, the blue magic obeyed him without issue, unlike his previous attempts to cast larger spells when he and Tom were still experimenting in the orphanage. Harry mumbled "Verto" almost as an afterthought as he tried to imagine what a needle would look like. Silvery magic threads?
Tom made a choked sound. The match's new form was that of several threads outlined by dark blue. Tom swiped at the magic and it slid off the desk with a quiet thump into what Harry presumed was a rubbish bin. Tom's mouth hovered at Harry's ear. "That was too close. Too obvious. Silver threads?"
"What do you want me to do?" Harry hissed. "I don't know what needles look like."
"Copy me," Tom said, performing the spell again. Harry glared at the perfect arrangement of simple loops and cast the spell again, this time willing his magic to imitate the arrangement of loops.
"Better. Looks like a needle; it just has the wrong colour. It looks like the colour of the match's wood."
Harry grit his teeth and tried again. At least he had a good memory. He would probably fill it to over-capacity with all of the subtle patterns he would have to memorize. If this was a beginning spell…Harry shuddered to imagine the sheer amount of detail he would have to commit to memory to perform complex Transfigurations like the one that Professor Dumbledore had demonstrated.
"Again. The tip is too thick."
"Verto!"
"Almost."
"Verto!"
Tom had thrown away another almost-perfect-but-not-there-yet needle when Professor Dumbledore stopped in front of Harry. "Harry, my boy, how are you doing?" Harry lifted his eyes, studying the sun-bright face and trying to decipher any facial expression without squinting.
"Doing okay. Almost have it." Harry pointed his wand to the right of his index finger and whispered, "Verto," and tried to direct every thread of the magic according to the mental blueprint he had created for the spell. Part of the issue, Harry thought, was that his control slipped whenever he tried to direct the magic under the needle, since he couldn't see through solid unless the magic was of exceptional strength (like Professor Dumbledore).
Professor Dumbledore hummed, picking up the blue needle and lifting it before his face. "This is excellent work, Harry. Your eye condition doesn't appear to be impacting you much at all. I'm sure that if you tell the others of your condition, they would be happy to help."
"He has me," Tom said, flicking his wand with a quiet "Verto."
"Excellent work, Tom! Continue as you are and you'll have no trouble in this class." Professor Dumbledore said, turning to Harry again. "Your House is your family, Harry. I think I will leave you in Tom's good hands."
Harry watched Professor Dumbledore walk away with raised eyebrows. "Why is he so insistent that I tell them?"
Tom leaned in to whisper into Harry's ear. "He left it unspoken; better tell your excuse now before someone notices something wrong and guesses the truth. You're doing much better than most of the others so far, so I don't think admitting it would be a weakness. I think…I agree with him." Harry snorted at how put-out Tom looked by the announcement.
"I get it. Now, Verto!"
To Harry's regret, Tom pronounced the needle perfect if not for the loop of the needle being closed. He had the feeling that he would make every slight mistake possible before finally succeeding in making a perfect needle.
When Tom saw their Charms teacher, he raised his eyebrows. Professor Nora Ayers was tall, skinny, with hair that was an unusual strawberry-blond that seemed more strawberry than gold. Tom sat in a desk to the side of the room, Harry settling in next to him. Charms was with the Ravenclaws, who all seemed to be fighting over seats in the first row. Professor Ayers walked to the front of the room and within half a second, the Ravenclaws seemed to have figured out their problems and settled in with all of their school supplies neatly arranged. Tom held back a smirk; he was sure that this kind of excitement was only going to be present for the first day.
"Welcome, class!" Professor Ayers called, lifting her arms. With a flick of her wrist, the scent of strawberry filtered through the smell of ice and a flock of birds burst out of her wand, winging over the heads of the students before disappearing in a burst of feathers arranged like a firework. The explosions were complete with sound and a touch of smoke, only to rain glitter over the students' heads. The Ravenclaws started vibrating in their seats.
"Charms is one of the most rewarding types of magic, and I am not announcing this lightly. Charms is a branch of magic that has multitudinous applications and is constantly being added to and being revised. Today, as an introductory charm, we will be attempting to perform the Levitation spell, Wingardium Leviosa. This is a safe spell to start with so you can all get a taste of the subject before we take a break to learn the magical theory behind charms…" Professor Ayers swished her wand in a particular movement and called, "Wingardium Leviosa." The desk she was standing behind rose into the air. She lifted her wand higher and the desk rose to follow it, as if connected to the wand by some long string.
Tom looked down at the items arranged upon the table in front of him. A feather, a wooden ball, and a brick of some dull metal.
"The movement is swish-and-flick, like so… Begin by trying to lift the feather and then progress onto the heavier objects. It's alright if you don't get it right away; this is a spell that I believe teaches best with trial-and-error…"
Tom glanced at Harry, who looked back at him with lips stretched in an awkward smile. Tom sighed. "I'll go first. Colour?"
"Greyish lavender. This lesson won't go well…"
Tom swished and flicked, and a "Wingardium Leviosa" later, he was directing a bobbing feather. He cast the spell upon the wooden block, which he lifted with little problem. It took a last minute shove of magic to lift the metal block, but altogether it took Tom less than three minutes to learn the spell. Harry stared at him before lifting his wand with a groan.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The feather's strands were yanked apart, dotting their table like small white hairs. Harry closed his eyes, causing the icy shield of magic around Tom to flicker in warning. Tom watched as Professor Ayers veered to the side, approaching them.
"Harry Riddle, is that right?"
Harry opened his eyes just as Professor Ayers settled in front of their desk. Tom evaluated her face; she was giving a small smile, but it was forced and unnatural. It didn't reach her eyes.
"Yes, Professor," Harry said.
Professor Ayers shifted her hands in obvious discomfort, as if she weren't sure what to do when confronted with someone visually impaired. "I was informed that you have some vision problems? Difficulty focusing? I wanted to offer my help, if you need it; feel free to ask if something is unclear."
"Oh…uh…thank you?" Harry said. Tom was surprised that she had come up and offered. Professor Dumbledore was one thing; he had helped Harry out in the first place. Tom hadn't expected anyone else to care about Harry beside himself. .
Professor Ayers nodded before moving on to the next pair of students. Tom shared a look with Harry, seeing his surprise still visible on his face. It took a few seconds for the magic shield to stabilize around Tom again.
By the end of the class period, Harry was nursing a bruise (he had dropped the metal block on his left hand) and Tom began planning his conquering of the library in search of quick defensive charms. If Charms were so easy to perform, he was sure he could learn a good number of them before they had to return to the dormitory that night.
The Potions classroom was a study in contrasts. The air was crisp and cool, invigorating, but also carried strange scents of wood, herbs, and blood. The atmosphere was oppressive at the same time as it was pleasant. Professor Slughorn continued his introduction into the art of Potions, cheery orange magic dancing around his sizeable form with fervour. Harry split his attention into two, as usual; he memorized the speech that Slughorn was performing while also studying the magic of the students around him. Potions was with the Hufflepuffs, from what Tom had told him. The pansies, the weak ones, the spineless ones, according to the Slytherins.
Their magic said differently. Harry could tell something of a person's personality from their magic. The more magic he saw and memorized, the more he was beginning to tie certain characteristics of magic to the people who wielded it. He saw something very familiar in the Hufflepuffs, something that he knew very well. Their magic held a sort of stubbornness in the way it moved; they would not be easily moved from their beliefs.
The Ravenclaws, in general, had flighty magic that danced with nary a care. The Slytherins had magic that was cautious and prone to creeping and quick movements. The Gryffindors had magic that seemed to move in powerful waves all at once. It was strange; there were a few outliers, but the Sorting Hat seemed to be quite accurate at sorting people into the houses that they fit best in. Harry knew that he would likely fit best in Ravenclaw, taking into account how his magic danced with unconscious curiosity. Tom was a sure fit for Slytherin.
Harry committed everyone to memory. Now he had almost everyone in his year memorized; he'd have to figure out which names matched up to which magic, but that would be a job for later. He looked at Professor Slughorn, who was still waxing poetic about the virtues of Potions. From what Harry could figure out, while he wove his magic consciously and other witches and wizards wove theirs semi-consciously, Potions was about taking the inherent magic in magical objects and weaving it over time into more complex "spells" than any one witch or wizard would be able to direct their magic into. It sounded, despite the distance required from the potionmaker's own magic, more like what Harry was expected to do.
"Today, we'll start out by making a very simple potion called the Boil Cure potion. It is not very complicated, but I cannot stress enough the importance of taking the cauldron off the fire before adding the porcupine quills." A rope of orange magic split and etched words into the air that stayed instead of fading. "The supply closet is in that direction and the instructions are on the board. Begin!"
Students began standing up and shoving each other in an attempt to reach the supply closet first. Tom stood up as well, whispering to Harry, "I'll get the supplies."
Harry nodded, turning his attention back to the board and biting down the rising excitement. Whatever spell Professor Slughorn had done, he had written the words with magic and Harry could see them. Harry's eyes scanned the words, annoyed with how slow his reading was. He'd known the letters for years – Tom had made sure that Harry knew how to write – but all of his life he had been unable to read by himself. His hands made shapes across the rough surface of the table he was sitting at as he matched up the letter he was seeing with the motions he had taught his hands to make. By the time that Tom had settled himself back in his chair, Harry had triumphantly decoded the simple instructions.
"Tom, I can read the instructions," Harry hissed under his breath as the students around them began to fumble with their knives and cutting boards. Tom's eyes widened and his magic flickered in excitement. "You can? I'll have to learn that spell…can you-"
"Yes, I can imagine." Harry would be able to read things on his own if he could figure out how to use that spell to copy text from books and project it into the air.
Tom pulled on his gloves, urging Harry to do the same. Harry dragged his hand across their desk before snagging them and pulling them on. "Measure out the snake fangs and I'll crush them," Harry told Tom with an excited grin. Tom nodded, placing the correct number of snake fangs into the mortar before sliding it over to Harry and handing him the pestle.
Harry began crushing the snake fangs, feeling the slight give as they broke underneath the stone and hearing the slight crackle as they began disintegrate. He might have some problem with nonmagical ingredients, Harry thought, but Potions should be an interesting class that might teach him something about weaving magic.
The hour passed quickly as Tom and Harry stirred and worked on their potion. To Harry's delight, he began seeing the magic being woven in the potion. It moved in simple patterns, precisely the kind that Harry needed to learn before he could replicate the more complex spells they were sure to be learning soon. He had enough trouble with simple Transfiguration and Charms as it was (unlike Tom, but then again Harry was under no delusions about the extent of Tom's genius). Harry committed the patterns to memory, trying to figure out how the exact combination of interlocking patterns produced a curative effect.
The dungeon classroom warmed over time, causing Harry to shudder in disgust while Tom melted in bliss. Harry sent Tom a disgusted look as they finished up their potion. Thin strands of magic, almost insubstantial, started wafting over the surface of their potion. "Pink smoke," Tom said, grinning. "That means we got it right."
"Wonderful!" Professor Slughorn said from behind them, causing Harry to jump in his seat and Tom's magic to freeze in place. "It appears you have a natural talent for Potions, Mr. Riddle and Mr. Riddle."
"Thank you," Tom said, "but I'm sure it was more from your instruction than talent." Harry tried to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Tom's attempt at flattery. Tom had decided that they should ingratiate themselves with Professor Slughorn especially, as he was their Head of House.
"Oh, such modesty!" Professor Slughorn said, orange magic curling in delight. Harry breathed in shock as the curtain of orange magic lifted enough to give him a glimpse at a thick weave of bloody red magic that had been completely hidden earlier, broken apart by thin white threads.
"Anyway, boys, bottle up your potion and place it in the rack on my desk; make sure you've put your names on it." Professor Slughorn leaned in toward Harry, who froze still. "I was doubtful of how well you would do in this class, Mr. Riddle, with your unreliable sight being what it is, but it appears you had little problem. In any case, do not hesitate to ask for help should it be needed."
"Of course, Professor."
Professor Slughorn was close enough that Harry could see his grin reflected in the movements of the magic around his face. He leaned back and ambled off to look at the other students, bright orange magic back in place. Harry swallowed before allowing himself to relax slightly. He lifted his eyes to meet Tom's.
"It's not just orange. Underneath…hidden…it's red. Like blood. With white threads."
"…I informed them of the status quo today; Tom Riddle in particular appeared to take it under consideration. He did not seem terribly surprised by the information that Dumbledore is the "leader of the Light" nor the fact that I told him that most of Slytherin house is Dark. He has taken my words under advisement so far and hasn't made any overt moves; perhaps he is lying low after the previous evening's events? If so, he hasn't done a very good job of it; I watched both him and his cousin during our classes and he excelled at everything. I know that it is early on in our magical education, but I cannot help but feel irritated that a potential Mudblood has mastered each spell on the first try. I will continue watching him.
I am of mixed opinion with regards to Harry Riddle. He is quiet and does not speak often and I haven't seen him separated from his cousin once. He appeared to be having significant trouble in Transfiguration and in Charms, although he did well enough in Potions today; however, he was partnered with his cousin Tom, which might have contributed to his success. I have noticed something odd about him; all of the teachers today have spoken privately with him with no little amount of seriousness and pity. Professor Ayers, in particular, looked very uncomfortable. There is something strange about him and the way he looks at people; the few times he looked at me, it was as if he were looking right through me.
Now that I've finished with my surveillance report for today, I can move onto more entertaining matters. Rosier made such a quip that flew completely over Mulciber's head! It was really quite clever, more so than I am used to hearing from Rosier, him being the quiet one always in our company, and I thought you might enjoy hearing it…"
AN: First of all, I want to thank the anonymous person who submitted such an amazing fanart of Harry to my tumblr! It's so amazing :D
On a random note, I've adopted a white python with blue eyes that I named Luscious Lucius Malfoy (Lucy for short). I thought you readers might enjoy that bit of news.
Apologies for the lateness of this chapter; as a whole, writing it felt like pulling teeth; I spent far too long working out intricacies of magical theory. Quite frankly, I don't even want to consider how much referencing of my notes I will have to do for further chapters in order to preserve consistency. Feel free to point out anything that doesn't add up; I don't reread my whole story too often and someone who marathons it at once might notice something that I have missed in the year I've been writing it.
The next update is projected to be for the end of May; the whole month as a whole will be dreadfully busy and hectic but I will try to write in the few calm periods. Thank you, all of you, for the reviews and PMs asking about updates; you motivate me to continue this with your continued interest during my writing slumps.
