Hey there, I was dismayed to realise it's been nearly three weeks since I've updated. I'll try to work on more of a schedule. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews, there's been lots of interesting comments. It's totally fair to say the start has been a little slow, though I figured it was necessary to take the time to set the scene.
The weeks seemed to fly by as Harry soon became busy with lessons and homework. The teacher's were piling on more homework than last year, echoing Hermione's comments on how OWLs were next year, as if that wasn't ages away. He soon settled into a routine, keeping up on his work while experimenting with magic whenever he, Ron and Hermione had the time. He occasionally looked up rare specialities in an attempt to find his own but he was having no luck on that front.
Halloween had looked so far away at first and the Triwizard tournament was no longer on his thoughts so it surprised him to learn that he'd been at Hogwarts for more than a month already. Suddenly, the new arrivals were only a week away and Hogwarts itself seemed to fly into a frenzy of activity.
Detentions now involved cleaning every inch of the castle and every lesson seemed to consist of particularly difficult topics or work to display and decorate the walls. The teachers seemed to have far less patience than usual, reminding their students that they had to look their best in front of Beauxbatons and Durmstang.
"I don't recall Dumbledore mentioning this competition being all about showing off," Ron said, smirking as he watched his twin brothers sneaking away from Mcgonnagall.
"It's not showing off, we're merely reminding them that we're slightly better than them," Hermione said sardonically. She gave Ron a light push before he could get too distracted and Ron quickly resumed walking.
"Still, I don't see how the fourth years charms class is going to matter to anyone," Ron replied, grumpily. The three of them had just gotten out of a charms class and Ron had been sharply scolded by Flitwick, after completely failing at some heating charms. They had some free time and were going to their private spot.
Harry couldn't resist a grin. "Don't worry, I doubt they're going to make you the champion of Hogwarts. The seventh years on the other hand are probably being threatened with expulsion or worse." He couldn't help but look towards Hermione as he said that, but she only rolled her eyes.
"Well come on, we said we'd work on your gifts," Hermione said, dismissing the topic.
Harry sighed, following his friends. He couldn't complain about them sacrificing their time to help him discover his speciality but he had been intentionally overstating his busyness in order to delay this. Granted they were busier than they been last year but he could have made time to work on it. It was just… they'd probably worked on it a hundred times with no results.
Hermione was nothing if not methodical however. She claimed that it was unlikely he'd just discover his speciality on accident and if they just tested each class one by one then they'd be bound to find it. Each failure, she insisted, was just one step closer to success. It was hard to say if Ron really agreed, he had spoken about how magic wasn't something to force in the past but later admitted he couldn't see why Hermione's approach wouldn't work.
"I guess the hideaway could do with some of those heating charms," Ron groaned, without any real feeling.
Their private spot was actually outside the castle, below the Quidditch stadium. It was some sort of old abandoned cellar that was quite spacious since they'd removed or destroyed all the empty boxes they'd first found there. Ron had dubbed the place their Hideaway. Despite his frustrations, Harry did find himself relaxing as they approached the uneven steps leading into their cellar. He hadn't visited it in months.
There was a heavy lock on the doors but it might as well have been for decoration as it was non-magical. With a wave of his wand and a quiet 'Alohomora' the lock gave a satisfying click and he pulled open the door.
The three of them poured into the dark and somewhat damp room and settled into a familiar ritual of cleaning and illuminating their hideaway. Torches were set up around the room and Hermione lit each of them up. Ron tackled the dust on the sparse furnishings and gave each of the chairs a light repairing charm. Harry closed the doors and started filling their space with warming charms.
Ron shot Harry a light glare. "You're just showing off now," he grumbled into the now cosy room.
"Honestly Ron, just because you struggle with basic charms, doesn't mean we all have to," Hermione intervened, taking a seat around the lone table and dropping her bag beside it. "Now we're here to test out some potential branches of magic for Harry."
"Have you found some more?" Harry asked, looking at the collection of books Hermione had brought with her.
"Yes, I've recently been looking at healing magic," Hermione replied eagerly, grabbing a brightly coloured book.
"I'm pretty sure I'm not a healer."
Discovering your speciality was like finding the right wand, or so Harry had been told. A sudden warmth, a feeling of rightness, a sudden feeling of knowledge as you found the magic that was right for you. Healing magic was one of the first he'd tried, when Ron had told him about how his little sister was gifted with healing. No luck, he'd found the simplest mending charms difficult to cast.
Harry couldn't remember ever feeling any rightness with any single branch of magic. Well, except for when he'd met Voldemort at the end of his first year. His scar had been burning and Voldemort had been demanding the Philosopher's stone. Yet, Quirrell, sharing a body with Voldemort, hadn't been able to touch him. Dumbledore had explained afterwards that it was his mother's sacrifice which had saved him. The same sacrifice which had allowed him to defeat him when Harry had been just a baby. Maybe he'd lost his speciality that night when his parents died? And all he'd ever have was that power from his mother's Sacrifice.
"Actually, you've only really tried one branch of healing, the main branch, there's actually a few types," Hermione explained, writing a list on some parchment.
Most kinds of magic seemed to be set up in branches. Elementalists, for instance, specialised in using the various elements of nature in their spells. Pyromancers focused only on fire magic but could learn more powerful fire spells that were outside an elementalist's capabilities. Likewise, Beastmasters were good with taming a variety of magical creatures where dragon tamers were great with just draconic creatures.
"So, what else is there?" Ron asked.
"Mind healer, disease healer, healing potions-" Hermione listed.
"Not any good with potions," Harry cut in.
"Er, right," Hermione agreed, crossing that off her list. "There's also blood mage -though it isn't really healing- rune healer, which we tried last year with all the other rune classes…"
Soon they'd compiled a decent list of classes to try. Nevertheless, it was unlikely to take very long to try each of them out. The simplest way to try was to find a spell ideal for the chosen class, then spend some time studying it before attempting to cast it. If any of these were indeed his speciality, he'd feel that innate 'rightness.' Really, it could potentially reveal itself purely from his studying of the spell but surely it'd be impossible to miss his speciality if he tried to cast a spell.
While Harry began reading up on some healing theory and spells to try, Ron volunteered to find a test subject. Healing spells didn't sound like the safest ones to experiment with. Hermione busied herself with examining the cellar with more scrutiny, she wanted to examine some of the enchanting experiments she'd left down here, to see if any had survived the months they'd been gone.
Ron soon came back with one of the school's roosters, teasing Hermione a bit about animal testing even as she agreed it was better they tried on a chicken rather than themselves.
"I wonder if I could channel some healing magic?" Ron wondered, glancing sceptically at the books around them.
Hermione had been examining a semi-invisible clock opposite them and Harry saw her face rapidly pale. "No. I don't want to think about you stabbing someone with healing magic, that would be-" she broke off. "Just don't."
Ron's speciality may have been very restrictive in some ways but it was very broad in others, the amount of different magics he could channel through a sword was impressive even if many of them weren't particularly useful. Harry figured Ron had an even chance at getting some healing magic to work. If he could manage any of the fancier healings it could even be helpful, though extremely weird.
By the time dinner came, Harry had tested out all the relevant healing arts and hadn't come up with any results to show for it but didn't find himself too upset. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed their secret hideaway which had been undisturbed since their last visit and rather comforting. He'd been delaying going back, certain he'd dread the repeated failures but Ron and Hermione hadn't been too concerned. Both of them had just acted happy to be back as well.
When Ron suggested that they make the excursions a regular thing once more, Harry had been quick to agree and started talking about personalising the place. They'd talked of decorating it a few times before but had never gotten around to it, unsure where to get supplies or unwilling to make the trip there with their hands full. One downside to their spot was how far away it was, especially when the weather was bad. Still it was fun to talk about.
The next week had the three of them discussing Ron's trouble with cooling charms and Hermione's obsession with the mind arts as she found some more obscure classes for Harry to try, all of which were somehow to do with mind magic, which was admittedly a very diverse branch. While it didn't come with any results, Harry hadn't been expecting any.
The week after, though they still went over to their hideaway, they didn't bother to look up any obscure classes. Their discussion instead unreservedly revolved around the Triwizard tournament and the schools that were coming. It was rather hard not to when their arrival was the nest with the tournament beginning the day after. Dumbledore had informed the school of this but had been frustratingly vague over details, eluding to a neutral judge, some grand arrivals and some fast-approaching events.
Information on Durmstrang was sparse even by wizarding standards. The most Hermione had been able to discern through the library was that it was large; a much larger school than Hogwarts. It also had a reputation for the dark arts – did that mean it attracted lots of darker specialities like Necromancers, Spell-sappers or blood mages? Or did it just teach the more standard classes darker topics?
Beauxbatons, while still mysterious, was better known. Located in France and offering training to wizards up to the age of 20, it was actually a collection of sister-schools. Hogwarts offered increasing specialisation with each succeeding year while Beauxbatons moved their students to the appropriate academy for their gifts. While it sounded a sensible system, Harry was privately glad Hogwarts didn't follow their lead. He'd almost certainly have been separated from his friends.
The next day began auspiciously enough, despite the thrum of energy throughout the castle. And despite the fact the many of his housemates were taking noticeably longer on their appearances, chattering about the foreign students. Harry ate breakfast in the great Hall as normal and endured a lesson of Magical theory with their insane professor followed by a far more interesting lesson in Defence against the Dark arts where Moody described various kinds of magical traps.
Of course, as Ron pointed out, there didn't seem to be much point in making an interesting lesson. He was bound to have to redo the whole thing next week because no one was interested in paying attention. Usually Moody's presence alone was more than enough to ensure a serious, studious atmosphere but even he couldn't make the class focus when they were diametrically opposed to the very concept. At the slightest opportunity, someone would start speculating about champions or begin passing around some article from Witch Weekly.
The day seem to fly by in a flurry of average lessons mixed with excited gossip until eventually Harry found himself standing outside the Hogwarts front entrance, in the cold, chilly, almost-November weather. He was not alone naturally. The entire school was out there, waiting for Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to arrive. Apparently, they weren't just taking the train, they had to show-off.
Despite the hectic day, now it was noticeably quiet and the minutes were crawling by as they stood out in the cold. People were talking amongst themselves but the open winds seemed to suck away all conversation and everyone's attention was fixed on the open skies. Harry shivered. Weren't wizard supposed to never be late?
He tried a warming charm or two but they weren't nearly so effective outside as they were in the cellar. So focused was he on the task of staying warm that he missed the first sight of Beauxbatons, finally proving the whole thing wasn't a myth.
It was a magnificent sight – a horse drawn carriage, with giant flying horses and a most ornate carriage, that seemed to be sending out dancing stars behind it as it flew through the air. Harry wouldn't pretend to know much about design, but the carriage seemed quite clearly French in design. It steadily drew closer.
Within a minute of the Beauxbatons appearance, Durmstrang made its own presence known. An enormous boat seemed to grow out of the usually smooth surface of the lake until a massive boat rested upon the shores. The ship could not accurately be described as Beautiful, but fierce and powerful, casting a large shadow even over the dimly lit grounds.
The Beauxbatons carriage on the other hand, once it had landed? It was lit up, drawing the eyes of all who were gathered. The massive horses landed with surprising grace and they'd barely come to a stop before their doors opened and an extremely tall woman made her way down, followed by a parade of students. She introduced herself as Madame Maxime, headmistress of Beauxbatons whilst Dumbledore gave her some kind welcomes.
Harry glanced past Madame Maxime and looked at some of her students. Where Hogwarts robes were usually at least partially black, save for the distinguishing colours and designs that signified a wizard's speciality, Beaxubatons favoured a light blue. There was a variety of classes present of course, and Harry recognised many of them. A few were new however.
One such design caught his eye, a swirling mixture of colours that seemed designed to catch the eye, noticeable even in the less than perfect light. Perhaps a dozen different colours beginning from the very bottom of the robe and only fading into Beauxbatons blue just below the chest. As the girl those robes belonged to stepped into the light from the front entrance, the colours soon proved to be bright and vivid, and Harry could only wonder why someone would be forced to wear something so bright and eye-catching where most designs were subtle.
The girl in question seemed to be glaring at everyone, apparently not even slightly happy to have arrived. Most of the other students looked at least pleasantly curious about arriving at Hogwarts castle, or at least eager to get inside, as they followed their headmistress in.
"What class was that?" Harry asked, looking between his friends.
"That was definitely an illusionist," Ron provided, somehow knowing exactly who Harry had been talking about. "I bet you can't even remember what the girl looked like."
The girl in question had just disappeared inside and despite having been just watching her, Ron was right. Harry couldn't recall any single feature about her. They all seemed to blur together.
"An illusionist? I've read about them." Hermione's tone was anything but warm. "They use their magic to mess with your senses, to play tricks on your mind. They can even do it without need for a wand." She turned to Ron. "Was she casting on us, just then?"
"Probably," Ron confirmed. "I think they're always distorting reality, for some reason."
Hermione looked to be about to make some more derogatory comments so Harry quickly intervened, unsure of what to think about the illusionist. "Here comes the Durmstrang students," he muttered.
Indeed, a regiment of them was following behind their Headmaster – Karkaroff. Where the Beauxbatons girls had looked underdressed, many of them without proper coats, the Durmstrang students were wearing thick furs and it was hard to make out any of their classes beneath them.
They didn't hang around outside for long and Hogwarts and the Durmstrang students made their way to the Great Hall together, where the Beauxbatons students were already waiting.
Thanks for reading!
In regards to updates, I'll try and keep to updates every other week; I'm a little too busy currently to manage weekly updates, I think.
All feedback and comments are very welcome!