The Ambiguous Artifice

by murkybluematter

Harriet Potter's third year masquerading as a pureblood boy promises to be even more complicated than the last two. All she wants is to get through her studies unimpeded, but with pureblood politics, ancient artifacts, and adolescent hormones getting in the way... well, at least she's up to the challenge. Alanna the Lioness take on HP, book three.

4. Chapter 4

A/N: Here's the other half of this update—again, sorry for the wait. I just suck sometimes. I hope you didn't review chapter four—just lump it all into five's reviews, if you please, lovely readers. And thank you for all the reviews and encouragement thus far—I remain ever unworthy.

The Ambiguous Artifice:

Chapter Four:

On Monday morning Harry knocked with trepidation on the door to Lab thirty-three. There was a long pause before it opened slowly and Master Thompson blinked down at her.

"It's ten, Sir," she said, wondering if he'd forgotten he was mentoring her, "I'm Harry Potter."

There was a flash of amusement in his eyes, but it vanished as he stepped back and waved her in, "I said the door would be unlocked."

"I thought it polite to knock, in any case," Harry said.

"You'll find I don't care much for niceties—tedious, and time consuming. That will be the first thing I train you out of," Thompson sat down at a modestly-sized desk, situated on the opposite side of the Lab from the brewing stations, and waved her into the lone chair facing him.

Harry sat, feeling off-balance, but determined to make the most of this opportunity.

Thompson stared at her for a beat, then said, "Well? Have you a research topic?"

Harry blinked, and said, "I've thought of several possibilities, but I wanted to discusses them with you before finalizing one."

"And?" Thompson prompted lazily when she paused.

"I'm very interested in Transformative potions," she began, "Polyjuice and Wolfsbane being two I'm most fascinated—"

"No," Thompson said bluntly.

"No?" Harry frowned. Perhaps he thought her too young or inexperienced to tackle such high-level potions.

"No," Thompson agreed, "Those potions are too complex to make significant experimental progress on in the few short months of this internship. Choose a project you can finish."

Harry privately thought that you couldn't finish a project in only a few months, but wracked her brain for a different topic, "I'm also interested in Healing potions. Perhaps I could research the effects of modifications to one of them."

"No," Thompson sighed, "How would you conduct such research? By experimenting on sick people, perhaps? You don't have time to organize such a study, so unless you plan to infect people you know with a disease first, it's worthless."

Harry bit her lip, but couldn't refute the point. What could she do? "I don't have any other ideas," she admitted, "Do you?"

"You want me to come up with your research topic?" he drawled.

She flushed lightly, "No, Sir. Could I ask you about your own specialty to get ideas? I heard you studied under Master Liu—"

"Where did you hear that?" Thompson snapped, his eyes turning sharp in an instant, "It is far from common knowledge."

Harry frowned, "My cousin heard it from Master Snape, who also studied under Master Liu. My cousin told me because he knew you were mentoring me."

Thompson's eyebrows rose, "Snape? Haven't seen him in ages. Heard he has a new paper in the works, though—you know anything about that?"

Harry kept her face politely neutral, "If he does, I'm sure it will be brilliant, as usual."

Thompson hummed, but didn't press, "So you want to know my specialty? It won't be much use to you, I daresay."

"All branches of knowledge are useful," Harry said, "Some are just lesser known."

"Truer words," Thompson muttered, his face relaxing into a bored expression once more, "Very well. My primary realm of inquiry is noningestibles. Potions whose effects are visited on the environment, not people."

"Like cleaning potions?" Harry hazarded. She hadn't studied many potions that weren't meant to be drunk or applied to humans, though she knew of their existence in household products.

"Not exactly," Thompson smirked lazily, "I wouldn't worry about it. The point is, my field is rather limited and specialized—you'll want to do something else."

She took in his lazy expression—almost too perfect to be sincere—his evasive answers and the lack of general knowledge she had about him, and several things clicked into place at once, "You study Battle Potions!" she blurted. It made so much sense.

Thompson blinked at her, seeming genuinely surprised, then his face twisted into a wary frown, "How on Earth did you come to that conclusion?"

"It's obvious," Harry said, smiling slightly, "I wondered why I've never read one of your papers—you don't publish any, because your research is protected by the Guild as dangerous information."

"It is, as a matter of fact," Thompson scowled slightly at her, "My subject of research is, itself, rather confidential. Common knowledge will reveal only that I have an interest in 'occult' branches of our art, which usually keeps the generalist snobs from poking around my research. You will not tell anyone your conclusions."

Harry nodded in agreement, but said, "You ought to publish a paper about something occult, then, at least once. In English, too, as that is your mother tongue. The noticeable lack of publications makes you suspicious."

"No one else seems to think so," Thompson said dryly.

"Maybe they just haven't said it to your face," Harry suggested innocently.

Thompson favored her with a droll look, "Aren't you supposed to be picking a topic?"

"Can I do Battle Potions?" Harry asked, very interested in a subject she'd never studied.

"No," Thompson said, leaning his head back against his chair with an expression of annoyance, "Why can't you pick something easy? Study…I don't know, the effects of different soil compositions on limbus grass or something."

Harry scrunched up her nose, "Everyone knows the effect of soil compositions on limbus grass. DeBlanc did an extensive survey on the subject a few decades ago."

"No one expects you to come up with original research," Thompson said, "It's an internship. You just have to do something not-wrong, and the Guild will publish your project in the newsletter, and the PR will be good all around. Your actual topic doesn't matter that much."

"It matters to me," Harry said, more sharply than she'd intended, "I'm not here to waste my time."

"Just mine, apparently," Thompson muttered.

Harry drew in a breath, then let it out slowly, "Forgive me, Master Thompson. It wasn't my intention to detain you. I'll return when I have a research plan."

She got up and made for the door. Thompson sighed, but didn't say anything as she let herself out and carefully shut the door behind her. She made her way through the Guild, silently fuming. How could he expect so little of her? Of course she wanted to do something meaningful. And she did have several ideas, all of which Thompson had rejected without even hearing them out. The least he could do was offer a direction or subject or—or—anything.

She was walking up the stairs when she heard brisk footsteps mounting the stairs behind her, so she moved to one side, but the person fell into place beside her. She looked over to see Lestrange's smirking face and groaned out loud.

"What do you want?" she asked ungraciously, not in the mood to be polite.

"So cold," Lestrange laughed cruelly, "What's wrong, ugly duckling? Master what's-his-name not all you hoped for? Master Whitaker is wonderful. He spent all morning going over ideas for my project with me—we settled on Wolfsbane."

Harry's head jerked involuntarily at that, which only made Lestrange laugh again.

"Jealous? It is a rather prestigious topic. Cutting edge. What've you decided on? Going to develop a new prank potion?" Lestrange's too-pretty face was absolutely horrid in its mocking amusement.

"If I do, I hope you'll volunteer as a test subject," Harry bit out, "Good day, Lestrange."

They had reached the entry hall, and Harry sped up as much as she dared to put some distance between them. Wolfsbane. Apparently Master Whitaker didn't think it too much of a challenge for an internship topic. She'd bet her favorite cauldron that Montmorency would let Casillas (she was not going to call him by his first name after he'd sabotaged her) research some sort of Healing Potion, too. Was she going to be the only intern with a dull—or worse, useless—topic?

She wound her way through the alleys toward Kyprioth Court, even though it was not quite lunchtime yet. She needed a friend to talk to, and Leo was currently closer than Archie.

Strangely, the common area in the Dancing Phoenix was completely empty, save for a lone mop, called Ben by the regulars for no discernable reason, twirling lazily in the corner. She was early for lunch, but she'd never been to the Phoenix when there was no one at all around. Even Solom was nowhere to be seen.

She was about to leave when she heard a muted cheer and turned around, curious. It was coming from the kitchen, she thought, so she ducked behind the curtain that separated the serving staff from the customer's domain. There were a couple of lads tending to lunch preparations, but the majority of the kitchen staff were crowded around another door, which led to a back courtyard Harry hadn't known was there.

They sent her curious looks as she wandered over, but obligingly made room for her. She looked out into the courtyard to see Leo and Marek faced off against one another, settled into semi-crouches and each brandishing weapons at the other. It was only the jeering grin on Marek's face that stopped Harry from pushing her way through the large crowd watching to try and put a stop to it. The fight wasn't serious, then. A practice bout?

Interested, she shifted slightly to get a better view.

"Go on out," one of the cooks chuckled, pushing her toward the door, "You don't have to watch the soup like us."

Harry smiled sheepishly, but made her way out into the private courtyard to watch the show. Both men were dressed in short breeches and nothing else, their tanned skin sweating slightly in the midday heat. Marek carried his wand in one hand and a long knife in the other, while Leo held a shorter knife that seemed to be made of crystal in addition to his own wand.

They circled one another carefully, not breaking eye contact for a second. In a sudden movement, Leo darted forward. Marek didn't react, and Harry thought he was caught off guard until Leo aborted the movement just as quickly. It was a feint, though Harry didn't know how Marek had guessed it would be. Leo feinted several more times before turning mid-feint and lashing a kick toward Marek's left knee. Marek swung his left leg out of the way and up toward Leo's stomach, causing Leo to lean back slightly as his left hand stabbed his knife at Marek's calf. Marek's knife came up to meet it, in a strange grating of steel against crystal, and Leo took the kick to the stomach with a soft grunt. He held his ground, however, and brought his own right leg up to lock around Marek's retreating left foot, using momentum to hurl them both to the ground.

Leo landed atop Marek, who jerked his wand toward Leo's chest, but Leo jabbed his elbow into the older man's throat, choking him before he could utter the words. He twisted instead, angling his knife at Leo's side, so that Leo was forced to disengage and roll away, unable to block across his body in such close quarters.

Leo was on his feet in no time, flinging a spell that would have caught Marek in the shoulder had he not ducked at that moment, returning with a red jet that looked like Stupify a moment later. Spells were traded so quickly that Harry had trouble keeping track of them all. Leo and Marek never stood more than five feet apart, it seemed, so shielding was largely out of the question. Instead, they dived and dodged and twisted around each other's spells with reflexes that could not have been natural. Intertwined with the spells were kicks, punches, and knife swipes, and Harry was amazed at how adeptly Leo and Marek avoided it all—neither one had been scratched, so far as she could tell.

The heat grew stifling as they fought on, never giving their bodies a moment's break. Harry watched, hypnotized at the sheer athleticism involved in this—freedueling, it must be. The crowd gasped when Leo actually threw his knife toward Marek's throat, but Marek dived sideways, twisting his wand in Leo's direction as he fell. The knife sailed harmlessly over Marek's shoulder, but Leo was caught in the arm with a petrifaction charm, and froze, hand still outstretched in a parody of a knife-throw. Marek's chest heaved with exertion as he rose shakily to his knees, but he was grinning even as he gasped for air.

He didn't notice the knife, now behind him, change direction just before it reached the ground. It swung around and buried itself in Marek's shoulder. The crowd cheered, but all Harry could do was stare in horror as Marek collapsed forward into the dirt with a pained groan.

Leo was released by a helpful spectator's counter-charm, and he grinned widely, accepting congratulations leisurely, seemingly indifferent to the man lying prostrate in the dirt. Harry pushed through the crowd to Marek's side, and knelt down to check his pulse.

"Harry! What are you doing here, lad?" Solom clasped her shoulder jovially, and Harry looked up at him in disbelief.

"Help me, Solom," she said frantically, "We've got to get this knife out—"

Solom and several others nearby laughed gaily at her suggestion.

"Now Harry, stop your fussin' over the lad," Rispah appeared and knelt down beside Harry to knock on Marek's head, "Swift! You still in there? Stop worrying people."

Marek groaned again, "Get Leo's thrice cursed knife out o' me back, then, Risp."

Harry blinked, and felt her pulse begin to calm a bit, "He's okay?"

"Course he is," Solom said, shaking his head, "His Majesty doesn't kill his subjects—no matter how hard-headed and foolhardy they are."

"My head has to be hard to survive my King's underhanded treachery," Marek grumbled, hoisting himself up onto his knees.

"You didn't think I was above stabbing my subjects in the back, did you, Swift?" Leo made his way over to examine the wound, almost dispassionately, "Not too deep. Next time I'll do better." His hand swooped down and quickly removed the crystal knife, then took out his wand and cast a cleaning charm on it, polishing it against his breeches for good measure.

Harry couldn't believe how casual they were all being about Marek's wound, which was now bleeding down his back. Were injuries so common in their daily life?

She dug around in her bag until she found one of the bloodreplenishers she kept in her potions bag. She uncorked it, and held it out to Marek to drink. He blinked at her in mild bewilderment, but drank it without complaint. Harry pulled out her wand, hesitant, but reasonably sure no one here would report her for underage use of magic.

"Do you want me to heal it?" she asked.

"Let him go see my ma," Leo said, shaking his head.

"That's several blocks," Harry pointed out.

"Maybe the pain will teach him not to challenge Leo again," Rispah rolled her painted eyes, "What is this, the eighth loss this year?"

"Seventh," Marek grunted, "That one in March was definitely a tie." He reached back to finger the wound and grimaced at the blood that coated his fingers.

"Let me heal it," Harry asked again, unable to stand the sight of her friend hurting when she knew how to fix it.

Marek shrugged, then winced, "Go ahead. Please."

Harry moved to crouch behind him and let her left hand hover just over the wound, keeping her wand pointed steadily at it with her right hand. She stretched out her magic and forged the connection between her core and the wound carefully. She directed her magic into the wound, coaxing it gently in the cajoling way she found worked best when she practiced Healing. She encouraged the flesh and nerve endings to knit together seamlessly, sending soothing waves of calming magic through the surrounding muscles simultaneously, so that Marek's shoulders relaxed completely under her hands.

A minute later, the wound was healed, and Harry stowed her wand again.

"Nice work," Rispah said admiringly, "Very neat. Not even a scar."

"What?" Marek craned his neck over his shoulder in dismay, "No scar?"

"You wanted a memento for your latest loss?" Solom guffawed.

Marek sighed, "I supposed not. Thanks, Harry."

Harry smiled and followed the crowd back through the kitchen and into the dining area for lunch.

Leo snagged a seat between Rispah and Harry and threw his right arm around Harry's shoulder, "So? Now that you're done nursing my fallen enemies, tell me what you thought. Was I great?"

Harry rolled her eyes, "You're getting sweat on my brewing robes."

"It's the juice of victory," Leo insisted, wrapping his hand around her right bicep and pulling her into his side.

Harry pushed away from Leo's playful hold, wondering at the boisterous mood he was in. Perhaps a result of the adrenaline left over from the fight?

"So Marek challenged you for the Kingship?" Harry asked as Solom served up a meaty stew, "If he'd won, would he be King?"

Leo nodded, seeming unconcerned, "It's a monstrously unsatisfying system, for the King at least. If he wins, he gets my position, but if I win, I get nothing for my troubles."

"You get to stay King," Harry said.

"I'd get that if Marek didn't challenge me," Leo said, "For a lot less trouble." He glanced sidelong at Harry with a teasing grin, "In the past, freedueling tournament winners would receive a kiss."

He didn't seem to notice Rispah choking delicately on her drink behind him. Harry widened her eyes innocently and said, "How interesting."

"Shame the practice fell by the wayside," Leo said, still smiling down at her.

"Maybe people decided sweaty, bloody tourney winners kissing twelve-year-olds didn't make an appealing sight," Harry deadpanned.

Leo winced, "Are you still twelve? That's…disconcerting. Grow up already, won't you?"

"So you can do what, exactly?" Rispah poked her cousin with her fork, "Stop playing the rake, Leo—it doesn't suit you, and it makes your subjects uneasy."

"Everything makes my subjects uneasy," Leo shrugged, though he did stop angling glances at Harry as he ate.

"How did your knife change direction like that?" Harry asked a moment later.

Leo smirked, "Summoning charm."

"You can do that while petrified?" Harry asked.

"Petrificus Totalus is a physical spell," Leo explained, "It doesn't affect your magic. That's why Aurors will always go for the stunning spell over the petrifaction, though the petrifaction works well enough usually. It's hard for most people to cast wordlessly and without moving their wands in the right patterns."

"Hard?" Rispah snorted, "Impossible, you mean. Never seen anyone pull a trick like that before."

"How did you do it?" Harry asked, "Practice? Or was it more of a in-the-moment desperation?"

Leo looked thoughtful, "I just let my magic do what it wanted."

Rispah laughed lowly, "That again. Leo gets ideas about his magic—thinks it's smarter than he is."

"It is," Leo said easily, "Pretending otherwise won't make me feel better, and magic doesn't like to be ignored or belittled."

Rispah just shook her head, but Harry found herself drawn by Leo's account of his magic. How often had she said something similar about her own?

"I believe you," she told him, "I think magic is more aware than people recognize. You say listening to it helps control it?"

Leo tilted his head at her, "Can't say for anyone else, but listening works for me."

Perhaps she would try that. It seemed there was a lot she could learn from Leo—not just about magic, either. She could still see he and Marek dancing around death in her mind's eye. If she could have moved like that, the basilisk never would have even caught her. She would see Remus about taking her training up a notch.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

She spent the rest of the afternoon coming up with possible research topics, and by dinnertime she thought she'd found a decently interesting one. Dinner was at Godric's Hollow that night, and it was once again Harry's turn to feed Addy.

By the time she got Addy settled and stopped her squealing with a bottle, everyone else was well into their supper. She piled her plate, but didn't start eating yet, toying with her fork instead. She was slightly nervous, but she took a breath and said, "Dad? Sirius? Remus? I have kind of a favor to ask."

The men paused in their eating and eyed her curiously.

"This is rare," Remus said, "What do you need?"

"I've found an idea for my potions project," she said, "For this internship at the Guild. It's sort of based on one of your Marauder products, though, so I wanted to clear the idea with you. If it's successful, it might pose competition for your product."

Sirius looked intrigued, while James looked simply bemused.

"I can't imagine we'll be upset," James said, "Which product inspired you?"

"The Barrier Button," Harry said. "I'm interested in the idea of making a charm or spell more permanent, like the way the buttons are a kind of shield-spell that was attached to an object. I want to look into imbuing spells like that into potions."

"Like the gift you helped me make for Draco last year?" Archie piped up, "The one that made him fly?"

"Fly?" Lily echoed, seeming startled out of her exhaustion for the first time all evening, "You invented a potion for flight, Harry?"

"Not really," Harry said quickly, "It's more like a variation on the weightless draft that gives you a controlled hover-charm centered on the drinker. It wouldn't be good for long distance travel, because it only lasts an hour reliably."

"Even so, that's very impressive," Lily said.

"Sounds like fun, too," Sirius said, "You should sell it—we'll buy the rights from you, if you like."

"Sure," Harry shook her head at their enthusiasm, "But what do you think of my project idea? Is it okay to create a potion-version of the Barrier Button?"

"Go ahead," James said after sending conferring looks toward the others, "Sounds like a great project. Good luck with it."

Harry smiled, "Thanks." Now all she had to do was propose the topic to Thompson.

After dinner she walked with Remus to the fireplace.

"Were you going to ask me something, or just hover anxiously until I floo away?" He finally asked, holding the jar of floo powder in one hand.

Harry said, "I was wondering if you could teach me something new this week—if I was ready to start really learning to defend myself yet."

"Did something happen to you?" her uncle asked with gentle concern.

"No," she shook her head to emphasize her words, "I saw a duel recently, and I was impressed by how well the participants controlled themselves and their magic. I thought, if I learned to defend myself better, maybe my magic would be easier to control."

"Well, there's a thought," Remus said, consideringly, "I wonder if there's a correlation between wizards' training in the dueling arts and the level of control they have over their magic."

"Could you start teaching me? For real?" she pressed, feeling in her gut that this was something she needed to do.

Remus thought it over, but in the end smiled down at her, "You're in good enough shape, I suppose. The rest of the necessary muscles will only come with practice. Sure, Harry. Come by…Thursday evening, and we'll get started."

Harry thanked him, and headed down to her lab to finalize the outline her research project would take.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

The next day she knocked on Thompson's door at eight in the morning, surprising an incredulous look on his face when she then proceeded to open the door without waiting for his permission and let herself in.

"Back so soon," he said lazily, the sarcasm positively dripping from his lips.

"I've got my research topic," Harry said, "It's a really good idea, and you're not going to talk me out of it."

"Is that so?" Thompson leaned back in his chair, "Do tell."

Harry took a deep breath, then launched into her explanation, "I want to combine the idea you gave me for area-effect potions with a type of potions I've already experimented in a bit, namely imbuing shaped magic into potions. My actual goal will be to invent a new potion entirely, but the focus of the research paper I write will be on the benefits of using shaped magic for imbuing, and how it can expand the uses of already known potions as well as give rise to new ones."

Thompson frowned slowly at her, "I've never heard of anything like that."

"That's why I think it's an important topic," Harry said, "I've never read anything that seemed to refer to it, either. But it seems to be an extremely useful aspect of conscious imbuing, so I want to do research to find out why it's not more commonly discussed. If my research pans out, I'll work on creating a new potion. Something useful, but not too complicated."

"Sounds interesting," Thompson said shrugging slightly, "I'm not sure 'imbuing shaped magic' is a thing, but feel free to give it a go. At least it's original."

Harry smiled brightly, "Thank you, Sir. I won't let you down."

"Just don't make up your results, and we'll call it a win," Thompson shrugged, "So…do you really need my help for anything, or did you just come in here to brag?"

Harry held in a sigh, "I actually have a related question. How does one go about getting a new potion vetted by the Guild, to make sure it's safe to distribute?"

"That's a little premature, don't you think?" Thompson said.

"I'd like to know now if imbuing shaped magic into potions could be dangerous—I assumed it wasn't, in the past, and I've taken such potions myself without any noticeable side effects, but I thought it would be good to go through official channels, just in case," Harry said. She hadn't considered the flight potion she gave Draco to be a new potion, so she hadn't had it checked out other than a few personal tests, but what if the magic was somehow dangerous? She needed to be sure.

"You've been taking experimental potions?" Thompson said exasperatedly.

"I didn't consider them experimental at the time," Harry said, a bit sheepishly.

Thompson heaved a long-suffering sigh, "If you give a copy of the potion and the recipe to me, I'll pass it along with the correct paperwork to the Guild's safety division." Harry reached into her bag to rummage through the various pockets, eventually pulling out the doses of the modified Weightless Draught she'd brewed late last night just in case Thompson wanted to look at them. "Of course you have them with you," he sighed. He picked one up, tilted it toward the light, skimmed over the recipe, then said, "This is a Weightless Draught."

"It's like a Weightless Draught," Harry said, "Except the kind of magic imbued is different. It should be a good indicator as to whether the magic itself will be dangerous due to its changed nature, since, yes, the rest of the potion is just a Weightless Draught."

Thompson raised an eyebrow, "Does it…do anything a Weightless Draught doesn't?"

Harry rolled her eyes, "Of course it does. I'm not trying to plagiarize known potions, Sir. This one makes you fly."

"Fly," Thompson deadpanned.

"Controlled hover," Harry allowed, "It's like the Weightless Draught, but you actually leave the ground, and you can control your movements with your mind."

"Really?" Thompson looked speculatively at the little vial, "What's it called?"

"The…Modified Weightless Draught," Harry said.

Thompson snorted, "I can't tell if this is all a big cosmic joke, or if you're a figment of my imagination."

"Do you think your imagination is that good?" Harry asked.

"I think that's enough for today," Thompson said wearily, "I'll pass this…modified whatever along, and you get started on your ridiculously esoteric research project." When Harry hesitated, he pinned her with a look, "Unless there was anything else?"

"Is Thompson your real name?" she blurted.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's just…I thought maybe Thompson was a cover, since you were trying to keep your research low-key," Harry explained. "It's almost suspiciously ordinary, so I thought maybe you'd published papers under your real name at some point in time, and if so I wanted to read a few—"

"Get out, Potter," Master Thompson (if that was his name) groaned, "Just…go."

"That's not a no…"

The door to the lab banged noisily open, which Harry figured was her cue to go. She waved goodbye to her mentor, who made a great show of burying his head in his hands.

I think he's starting to like me, she thought, suppressing a grin.

It was still fairly early in the morning, so she decided to visit the Serpent's Storeroom. She hadn't been to see Krait in a while, being busy with her internship, so she at least ought to make sure he wasn't replacing her with a new brewer.

The alleys were busy, as they always were in the summer months, but she made her way easily onto Knockturn, weaving deftly around old ladies selling fingernails and various unsavory types in moth-eaten overcoats. She ducked into the dim apothecary, looking around for the owner, and instead froze at the sight of an elegant man in rich robes and long, blonde hair standing at the counter.

What in Merlin's name was Mr. Malfoy doing in the Serpent's Storeroom?

A moment later, she mentally winced. What does any well-known figure in society go to an out-of-the way, semi-shady apothecary for? Something illegal, dangerous, or both. She pushed the door behind her open slowly, intending to creep back out and pretend she hadn't seen anything, but Mr. Malfoy happened to glance up from the paper he was bent over, and he caught sight of her shadow on the wall.

He looked over sharply at her, and drew himself up to his full height, "Why are you loitering there, boy?"

He couldn't see her, she realized, with the sun glaring behind her. "No reason, Sir. Sorry to bother you. I'll be going—"

"Harry?" Krait had recognized her well enough, but, she supposed, he had good reason to think a kid coming in would be her, not anyone else. Mr. Malfoy had no such reason to think Rigel Black would be there. "Come in, come in. I'll be with you in a shake."

She ducked her head as she entered the shop, but from Malfoy's sharp, indrawn breath, it hadn't been enough.

"Rigel? What are you doing here?" he said urgently, looking swiftly through the dirty shop window, "What is your father thinking, letting you wander this far south of the main alley?"

She affected a confused but disinterested expression and cocked her head at the Malfoy patriarch, "Who?"

"Rigel—" Malfoy stopped, peered at her eyes, and stepped closer, "You look remarkably similar to another boy I know, about your age."

"That's interesting," Harry said, though her tone intimated it was anything but, "Who're you?"

"That is none of your concern," Mr. Malfoy said, raising his chin haughtily.

"Then I guess it's none of your concern who I look like," Harry said bluntly. She knew she was being rude, but the point was to seem un-Rigel-like.

"Harry," Krait said exasperatedly, "Sorry, Sir. Harry's a good employee, but sometimes the tongue runs away with a kid's manners."

"And sometimes kids have more manners than adults," Harry rolled her eyes for good measure, "Least we don't talk about someone who's right there."

"Why don't you go wait in the storeroom, Harry?" Krait said, exasperated.

Harry shrugged and did just that. A few minutes later Mr. Malfoy left the shop, and Krait came into the backroom with raised eyebrows.

"Want to tell me why you were so rude to that customer?" Krait asked, "It's never too late to fire you, you know."

"What did Mr. Malfoy want?" Harry asked directly.

Krait blinked, "You know him?"

"Everyone knows who Mr. Malfoy is," Harry said, "My cousin goes to school with his son. What did he want?"

Krait scratched his neck and held out a roll of parchment. Harry took it, then skimmed it over as Krait explained, "He wanted to know if I could brew that, as soon as possible."

"It's some kind of power-suppressor," Harry mused, looking over the ingredients and steps, "Looks a bit like the potion Aurors use to suppress the magic of short-term prisoners, but milder. What did you tell him?"

"I told him I'd ask my brewers," Krait said dryly, "So? Got time for it?"

Harry looked thoughtfully at the recipe. It didn't seem any more complicated than Snowhit, and the ingredients were common ones. Why didn't Mr. Malfoy get Snape to brew it for him? Was it illegal? No, it was too mild to be really dangerous—a wizard would probably be able to break its effects, if he had to. It was more like something you'd give a child to soothe accidental magic. So what did Malfoy want with it? Draco was long past his accidental magic incidents, as far as Harry knew.

Should she do it? She couldn't see any real harm in it. Maybe Malfoy simply didn't want to bother Snape with a potion he could get elsewhere? Snape was probably rather busy, if he was in the process of publishing his latest finds on Wolfsbane.

"I can brew this," Harry said, "I'll go do it now, in fact. Owl Mr. Malfoy that he can pick it up this afternoon."

Krait nodded slowly, "Very well. He'll pay a good sum for it, I'd wager."

"Don't overcharge him, Krait," Harry said, "He's…a friend."

"He didn't seem aware of that," Krait said.

"Still, I'd appreciate it. And, hopefully this goes without saying, but keep my name out of it, please," Harry said.

"Whatever you say," Krait said, putting his hands up in a sign of defeat, "You brew 'em, I just sell 'em, lad—er, lass."

"'Lad' is fine," Harry said distractedly, "I don't care."

Krait grimaced, "Not sure that's a good thing."

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

Harry was as good as her word, brewing and delivering the potion by early afternoon. She made two batches, unsure what quantity would be appropriate, and Krait assured her later that Malfoy had bought every dose. She put the oddity of Mr. Malfoy's purchase to the back of her mind, however, and continued to do research for her project for the rest of the week, occasionally checking in to meet with (read: annoy) her mentor. It served him right, really, for being so faux-lazy, unhelpful, and secretive.

On Thursday evening she flooed to Remus' house before dinner and found he and Sirius warming up in the downstairs gym, on the mats that made up the sparring floor.

"Hello, Sirius," Harry said, "Are you here to help Remus teach me?"

"We're going to show you a practice duel," Sirius said, looking excited, "So you know generally what the art's about before you start."

"Thanks a lot, Uncle Sirius," Harry said genuinely. Then she grinned a bit, "I promise not to think less of you if you lose."

Sirius spluttered and Remus laughed heartily.

"This just goes to show that children clearly know nothing about anything," Sirius sniffed, "I happen to be an amazing duelist. .ING."

"I hear Remus is better," Harry shrugged, not sincere in the slightest. It was nice just joking around with her uncles, sometimes.

"You must have heard that from Remus," Sirius pouted, "Just you watch. I'll be the one laughing in the end."

Harry made a show of looking upwards, "I think you just gave Fate an engraved invitation to your own undoing, Uncle Sirius. Good luck, though."

Remus couldn't contain a snort of agreement as he set up the dueling barrier that would protect their surroundings from any stray spells.

Sirius and Remus squared off on the sparring mats, a good ten paces from one another, and bowed formally. Harry watched with interest as they sized each other up, both standing with knees slightly bent, but nowhere near the half-crouch that Leo and Marek had fought in.

Remus began the duel with a quick stunner, which Sirius easily countered, but from there the curses got a lot more…interesting. She recognized a jelly-leg jinx and a curse that turned the victim's hair pink for twelve days, but most of the curses were said too quietly for her to hear, and blocked too quickly for her to see their effects. The exchange was rapid, but Harry was struck by just how much of it was an exchange. They almost seemed to take it in turns, casting and blocking, then casting and blocking again. She wondered if this was some kind of dueling etiquette, or for her benefit, so she could see each move clearly.

She also noticed that the two kept the distance of ten or so paces between them about constant throughout the duel. When one gained a bit of ground, the other gave it, and vice versa. They never came close enough for physical contact, so none of the spells were ever fired point-blank. Perhaps because of this, there wasn't much dodging going on. As one cast a curse, the other would cast something else to block it—a shield or a counter-curse. As the hexes and jinxes got more elaborate, their methods of counter became more specialized, too, and most of the magic being performed was stuff she'd never seen before, as opposed to Marek and Leo's fight, where she'd recognized almost every spell thrown.

Remus cast a mirror shield at one point, which bounced Sirius' own curse back at him, forcing him to deal with it and the hex Remus sent right after it. He caught the first, but the second got him square in the chest. He immediately began laughing, bent double and gasping for breath. It was short word for Remus to summon his wand, as Sirius couldn't stop laughing long enough to even protest, much less negate the spell.

Remus undid both his hex and the barrier spell, and Harry walked over to join them as they drank deeply from water bottles on the side of the mats.

"So?" Remus asked, wiping his brow, "What did you think?"

"I think Sirius was right," Harry said, nudging him with her knee as she sat, "He really did have the last laugh."

"Ha. Ha. That's clever, Harry. I suppose Remus cast that last one on purpose, too," Sirius shook his head in mock betrayal.

"Guilty," Remus grinned, "But what did you think of the formal dueling style?"

"It seemed sort of…showy," Harry said honestly, "You won because you didn't wait for him to deal with a hex before casting another one, but why weren't you both doing that from the start?"

Remus and Sirius both nodded.

"It was an exhibition duel," Remus said, "So the point was to see the exchange of spells clearly. In true battle, it would have been just as you described."

"We'd move around more, too," Sirius said, "Avoid more curses than we countered, at least if we had a clear battleground—when you're fighting in a group, it becomes more important to negate spells than to let them hit one of your comrades. A good duelist can think up a range of creative responses to any given spell—and in the moment, too."

Harry nodded in thought. Traditional dueling had its advantages, too, then. She wondered if there wasn't a way to combine formal dueling with freedueling, to defend in a way that was both quick and appropriate to the situation, to respond creatively to a threat, but also unexpectedly, as with a knife or a fist.

"I want to learn," she decided.

"Then I hope you're fast, little niece," Sirius grinned, "Because lesson number one is don't get hit."

She looked trepidatiously at him, but Remus shook his head.

"We'll start lesson one tomorrow night," he promised, "For now—dinner."

They all flooed back to Godric's Hollow, where Lily promptly sent Sirius and Remus back to their respective houses to "shower, for Merlin's sake." Harry began to set the table as Lily and James finished up preparations, and Lily said, "Harry, are you busy this weekend?"

Harry shook her head, "I don't think so. Do you need me?"

Lily nodded, "I promised Alice I'd meet her for tea on Saturday, but your father told Sirius they could go to Zonko's to renegotiate a few terms of their contract that afternoon. Can you watch Addy for us for a few hours?"

Harry was tempted to say no, but, really, how could she? "Of course, Mum," she said, trying not to imagine what a few hours of constant crying was going to be like. Could babies even cry that long without stopping? Probably Addy could, from what Harry had seen.

"It'll be fine, Harry," Lily said, sensing her hesitance, "Addy just needs to get used to you."

"You're probably right," Harry said, though inwardly she did not think it was going to be fine. Not at all.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

Friday morning found her making use of the Guild Library to search for references and precursors to her project.

Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one.

Lestrange, who had been sending her gloating looks whenever they passed in the Guild halls, was also in the Library researching. The trouble was, he didn't seem to be at all focused on his own research. Every five minutes or so she felt eyes on her as she worked, and though she did her best to ignore him, being silently watched grated on her nerves the longer it went on.

When he finally said, "Potter," her patience was already worn thin.

"What?" she snapped, re-shelving a book she'd been perusing in a single, sharp gesture.

Lestrange's face morphed into a sneer so fast, you'd think it was his default setting, "You know a werewolf."

Harry's eyelid twitched, "Is that an accusation?" She'd already known he knew about Remus' condition—his words at the New Year Gala had made that clear enough. Why would he want to rub it in now?

"I need information on specific werewolves," Lestrange gritted out, "For my research."

That didn't do anything to help Harry's mood. She'd almost forgotten he'd been allowed to study Wolfsbane when she wasn't. She scowled harder, "Good for you."

He smirked as though he knew exactly why she was irritated, "Don't be jealous—it's not my fault your Master doesn't have much confidence in your abilities. It's a shame, really—Master Whitaker has been so accommodating to my own ambitions."

She focused all her willpower on convincing her magic that no matter how angry she was, Lestrange was not a threat. Not-a-threat not-a-threat…Merlin, but she hated that look on his face.

"Anyway, I need data," Lestrange went on blithely, "Subject's age, sex, date infected, severity of transformations, years spent taking Wolfsbane, if any, noticeable side effects on the body, but most importantly on the subject's magical—"

Harry wasn't getting her magic under control. It was boiling and hissing in her veins, and she literally couldn't stand listening to him go on about his project for one more second. She tucked the book she was borrowing into her bag and strode toward the doors.

"—and—hey, wait!" Lestrange called.

She left the library, thinking it would about serve Lestrange right if he couldn't get the information he needed to complete his project. Smug jerk.

The book she'd taken from the Guild Library was a rare tomb on the use of stones in potion making. Her theory was that imbuing shaped magic was quite similar to using different kinds of stones in potions, in that the kind of magic added wasn't precisely 'free' magic. She was curious to see how far potioneers had experimented with stones, and whether anyone had connected the practice of using stones to shape the magic added to a potion with actively shaping the magic the potioneer imbued himself. Surely the two methods couldn't be so different.

She wanted to know how stones had been used to expand the uses of known potions, for surely she was not the first to think of adding properties to the magic of a potion itself, rather than adding ingredients that changed the properties of the potion indirectly. Her working hypothesis was that adding stones with symbiotic magic would enhance a potion's effects, but she wondered what adding a stone with properties that didn't complement the potion would do. Would there be mixed effects, or would the potion's effects be tempered or even negated?

She also wanted to know if anyone had created a potion that didn't have any properties, specifically for use with stones or other kinds of imbued magic. If not, she would have to invent that herself, though in theory it wouldn't be too difficult, because she wouldn't be trying to get the potion to do anything—just the opposite. It certainly bore more in-depth research.

By the time she left the Guild, she had almost forgotten the smug, gloating look on Lestrange's face. Well, let him goat. Her project was going to be just as interesting—and a good deal more original—by the time she was through.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

Harry dove out of the way just as a stinging hex hit the mat where she'd been standing a moment before.

"That was way below the belt, Uncle Remus," Harry complained, pushing to her knees only to roll to the side as yet another hex whooshed toward her ear.

"Tired already, Harry? This was your idea," Remus said, forcing her to abort her roll and twist to the side to prevent herself from colliding with a cleverly aimed hex.

She managed to stand up before Remus cast again, and dodged three more stinging hexes by weaving on her feet. Then Remus' eyes moved one way and his wand moved another, Harry hesitated too long in picking a direction, and Remus' hex hit her thigh before she leapt away.

"Ow," she hissed.

"What's that?" Remus called mockingly from across the practice arena.

"I said 'wow,' Uncle Remus," Harry said, panting slightly, "I think your stinging hexes are getting better with all the practice."

"Maybe I'll be able to do it nonverbally by the end of the night," Remus said cheerfully, before sending another hex her way.

She was learning how to dodge, or else Remus was a closest sadist. It was hard, frustrating work, trying to train her reflexes into something workable, instead of panicked reactions that did more harm than good. Twice already she had dived into a hex instead of away from it. It seemed obvious—move away from the painful magic—and yet her body didn't listen to her brain on the few occasions when her brain had enough time to formulate a message for it to hear.

"You're over thinking it again," Remus scolded her and Harry wavered and second-guessed herself once more, "Just move."

Harry tried to empty her mind, to relax her muscles and just do what felt right, but her mind felt scattered. Maybe it was the enclosed space, maybe it was that she felt foolish jumping around like a grasshopper as Remus lazily tossed hexes her way, or maybe it was that half of her attention was spent on making sure her magic didn't react and her body did. It wanted to defend her, or to attack the source of her difficulties, but the point of the exercise was to hone her body, not her magic, to help her practice avoiding danger instead of simply reacting to it. Magic, Remus had explained, didn't always need to be wasted on minor threats. Dodging was efficient and effective, and so dodging she would learn.

But it was so frustrating.

"We're picking up the pace a bit," Remus warned, "Don't think, just react."

Harry chanted it to herself as she began moving faster. Don't think. Just react. The spells came closer together, not letting her get very far at all before forcing her to change directions. She pivoted, ducked, jumped, and spun in a dizzying, exhausting dance. Her muscles protested, her lungs felt close to revolting, and her vision narrowed to Remus, his hexes, and her body. She couldn't even hear him casting as her focus zeroed in. Don't think. Just react. The sweat was dripping down her spine, her stomach cramping as she used her abdominal muscles again and again to arrest her momentum and redirect it.

She leapt over a hex aimed at her feet, but when she touched down she slipped on a sweaty spot and went down hard on the mat. She snapped her head up in time to see one last stinging hex come barreling down toward her face, and flinched, bracing herself for the sharp pain, knowing she didn't have time to scramble aside this time.

The sting never came. She opened her eyes to see the too-familiar red of the Despaco Shield coloring the air before her face. Through it, she saw Remus frowning as he lowered his wand.

"Harry?" he asked, approaching her slowly.

"Sorry," she gasped, forcing her shaking limbs to move until she was on her knees, at least, "One second." She reached for her magic in between pants, asking it to stand down, to stop powering the shield. That's what happens when I really act without thinking, she thought dejectedly. Was she never going to be able to control this?

"Was that a Despaco Shield, Harry?" Remus was still frowning as he helped her to her feet and over to the containers of water on the sidelines, "How did you cast it silently? Didn't you leave your wand with your shoes?"

"Yes, sorry," Harry said, very embarrassed, "I swear I didn't mean to. My magic just does that sometimes. I mean, not just anytime, obviously. When it thinks I'm being threatened. I did try to control it, Remus. I'll do better next time."

Remus shook his head slowly, "That's a dangerous shield. Where did you learn it?"

"Nowhere," Harry said, wincing, "My magic just takes on that form when it thinks I'm in danger. I didn't even know what it was, until Professor—" she bit her tongue before saying 'Dumbledore.' "Well, anyway, I didn't really learn it," she finished awkwardly.

Her uncle looked very troubled, "If you didn't have a wand, it must have been accidental magic. You're almost thirteen, though…usually that sort of thing stops long before a wizard's core finishes maturing."

"Are you sure you never saw anyone using that spell?" he pressed, "Did Lily show it to you?"

"Mum?" Harry shook her head bewilderedly, "Never. Why would she?"

Remus hesitated, but said, "I think you should talk to your mother about the problems you've been having with your magic. She might be able to help."

Harry thought that was odd—surely James would be a better help, with his Auror training, but she told Remus that she would.

"Very well," Remus said bracingly, "You did just fine today, Harry, just fine. If we do this often enough, your body will learn to move without you telling it to."

"How often is that?" Harry joked, stretching her sore limbs carefully.

"As often as it takes," Remus said, amused, "Once you can dodge my fastest spell-casting, we'll get your father down here to have a go—if you think I'm quick, it's nothing to what a decade's field work as an Auror will produce."

They parted to shower and get changed before dinner, Harry turning over Remus' suggestion in her head. Why would her mother be able to help her with her magic more than Remus could? She was a talented witch, but not an expert in accidental magic, as far as Harry knew.

When she looked at her mother's tired, determinedly upbeat expression at dinner that night, however, she couldn't bring herself to bring it up. Why bother Lily with her own troubles when her mother already had so much on her plate between Addy and work and everything else? She'd bring it up some other time, when Lily didn't look so worn out.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

Saturday found Harry walking up the stairs from her basement lab like one mounting the executioner's platform. It was nearing one in the afternoon, which meant Lily would be leaving for tea with Lady Longbottom soon. Addy would be staying with Harry.

Harry found her mother burping a gurgling Addy in the kitchen.

"There you are," Lily smiled, "I was just going to call you. She's just had a bottle, so you shouldn't have to feed her before I get back. If she gets fussy—" Harry silently thought that to be a distinct possibility, "—check to see if she's soiled herself. The fresh nappies are in the cupboard—"

"I know, Mum," Harry said, smiling slightly, "Just because Addy doesn't like me, doesn't mean I don't pay attention. I'll change her if she gets soggy, and I won't let her play with knives. Don't worry."

Lily shrugged self-deprecatingly, "I'm not worried, I just don't want to forget anything. Well, if you have trouble I'm just a floo call away."

She transferred Addy to Harry's tentatively waiting arms and pecked both Addy and Harry on the cheek before she made a silly face in Addy's general direction and said, "Buh-bye, darling. Sissy's going to take good care of you. See you soon."

Lily flooed to the Longbottom's, and Harry held Addy up in front of her face consideringly.

"Hi," she said, "You don't know me very well, but I'm your big sister, Harry."

Addy's face slowly screwed up into a heart-breakingly upset expression, tiny tears bursting from the corner of her eyes without warning as her little vocal chords started emitting distressed whimpers.

Harry hurriedly clasped Addy to her chest, rocking in place as she'd seen James do over and over to soothe the child. "Shh, it's okay, don't cry…please."

Addy began to wail, a thin, gasping sound that wracked her tiny frame alarmingly. It built up into a stronger cry even as Harry patted her back and hummed a frantic lullaby under her breath. Soon Addy was outright screaming, and Harry could only think this was the worst idea her mother had ever had.

She took Addy into the nursery and quickly set her down into a baby-sized chair that had a colorful mobile attached to the top of it. Harry buckled Addy in for good measure, then stepped back, tilting her head to consider the crying child.

Addy's screams had decreased in intensity, but she was still sniffling pathetically, and Harry didn't know how to make that stop. She'd already been fed, so she couldn't just stick a bottle in her mouth. She tapped the mobile to activate the revolving charm, and was gratified to note that Addy paused in her crying to state curiously at the moving bees and flowers hovering over her head.

Harry settled into a criss-cross position across from Addy's chair, watching the baby watch the spinning toys, not sure what she would do if Addy started crying again. She noticed one of Addy's little socks had come off, but when she looked around she didn't see it lying around. Maybe it had fallen in the kitchen? She probably shouldn't leave Addy alone to go look for it, but what if her foot got cold?

She debated with herself for a moment, then reached out to cup her hand over Addy's pink, wrinkly foot. She asked her magic for a gentle warming charm, and felt the soft heat flow easily into Addy's skin.

When she looked up, Addy's eyes were fixed unblinkingly on her. Harry took her hand away, and Addy's eyes scrunched unhappily. She put her hand back on Addy's foot, but her sister didn't look any more pleased, and started sniffling again. Cautiously, Harry sent another gentle warming charm up Addy's leg.

Addy sneezed, then gurgled happily. Her blue eyes looked at Harry almost adoringly, and her mouth parted in a big, toothless grin. Harry felt her own mouth part in complete astonishment. "Addy?" she said, moving her hand up to stroke the baby's soft cheek. She let a warming charm float across the baby's skin, and was rewarded with another happy giggle. "So you like magic, huh?" Harry smiled down at the infant, "That makes one of us. Want to see some more?"

Taking Addy's rapt gaze to be a kind of assent, Harry summoned a small ball from the nursery's toybox. She held it up for Addy to see, then turned it blue with a tug at her magical core. She turned it green, red, and yellow, but Addy didn't smile, merely watched it happen, a bit perplexed. Defeated, Harry looked down at the ball in confusion. Wasn't it her magic that made Addy happy?

The truth hit her suddenly—it wasn't just magic, it was the feeling she liked.

Harry tugged Addy's hand forward to rest on top of the ball, and asked her magic to warm the ball with her other hand. When the ball heated up, Addy hit it excitedly with her hand. Harry turned it cold a moment later, and Addy shrieked with laughter, smacking at the ball until Harry made it warm again, then giggling again.

Harry kept at it, laughing herself every time Addy did something particularly adorable. She could see why people liked babies so much, now—they were cute, when they weren't screaming, and it felt good to make them happy.

An hour later, with only a small interruption in their game to change Addy's soiled nappy, Lily found them in the same position, both staring at the little ball and smiling delightedly.

"She likes you!" Lily exclaimed, clapping her hands at the sight.

Harry turned and beamed up at her mom, "She does—well, not me, really. She likes my magic."

A look of discomfiture flitted briefly across Lily's face, and Harry hastened to reassure her, "I didn't do anything dangerous around her. I've just been using warming and cooling charms on this ball over and over again. She thinks it's a blast."

Lily smiled, "Yes, babies are often soothed by the feeling of magic. It's why mothers are encouraged to hold their newborns as much as possible; the mother's aura is instinctively soothing to the child, because some of the mother's magic goes into forming the baby's magical core in the womb, so the baby recognizes it. Eventually, the infant comes to recognize other auras as well, the father's, of course, and other people who are around often enough. I knew she'd get used to you eventually, Harry."

Harry stared at Lily, a sudden suspicion hitting her. She didn't have an aura—it was suppressed, according to Snape. Was that why Addy didn't like Harry? Because she couldn't sense her in the same way she sensed others? But that didn't explain why she didn't like Remus…or did it? Could his own aura be different, because of his condition? Would it feel different to Addy?

Feeling her respect for her little sister's perception abilities raise slightly, Harry vowed to research infant care when she got the chance. Maybe there were other ways she could convince Addy there wasn't anything strange or frightening about her.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

Monday she didn't go to the Guild, as she had enough to keep her busy researching the use of stones in potions, but she did stop by the Dancing Phoenix for lunch, just to get out of her lab for a while. Lily was sure she wasn't getting enough sunshine, but she didn't know about Harry's frequent excursions around the alleys during the day.

She had found out after asking that although Marek only seriously challenged Leo every few months or so, they and others from the alleys could often be found practice-dueling in the courtyard behind the Phoenix. They practiced there because, despite looking as though it were open to the air, it was actually a heavily warded section of the inn itself, built into wizardspace during the construction, and accessible only through the inn's kitchen. Free dueling wasn't technically illegal, as long as it wasn't part of an official tournament, but it was heavily frowned upon, and so the denizens of the alleys took care to keep it away from disapproving eyes.

Harry had taken to stopping by an hour or so before lunch, just so she could watch. It was fascinating, and frankly impressive, to see magic used in high-speed, creative combination with physical defense.

That morning she found 'Will' the curse-breaker, to her surprise, in a practice bout against Aled Flint. The redhead was once again wearing his scarf pulled up over his nose, but from the way his blue eyes were curved in amusement, she would guess he was grinning as he sent spell after spell at Aled's shields.

Aled laughed, and spat out a stream of Latin, wiggling his wand at his shields, strengthening them, it seemed, with a different layer of magic that blended seamlessly with the first. Will sent another spell at the shield, a twisting yellow light that looked at though it was trying to burrow its way through the layers. Just as the shield seemed to give for a moment, it sprang back outward, tossing the drilling spell aside and into the dirt.

"Give up, boy," Aled grinned fiercely, "Nothing gets through my shields."

Will shook his head, "We'll see, won't we?" He moved his wand in two sharp flicks to either side of his body, and two jets of orange magic streaked in wide curves away from him. They turned at the peak of their sideways arcs and impacted both sides of Aled's shield at once. Violent tremors spread from each impact point, and sparks of bright orange shot out from where the vibrations caused by the two spells met. Aled cried out and averted his eyes from the blinding sparks that probably lit up his vision, and Will sent a stunning hex, thick with the power behind it, into the middle of the shield.

The shield burst apart around the stunner, which sailed right through to knock Aled several meters backwards. When the dust cleared, Aled was sprawled on the dirt, and Will hurried over to revive him.

"What in Kyprioth's name was that?" Aled coughed, standing up once more, "Felt like lightning exploded in my face."

Will smiled, "It's a good spell for breaking layered wards. It creates two opposing currents, and where they meet, the power keeping the layers of shields meshed is disrupted, causing the different spells within the ward to collide and destabilize. After that, one good-powered spell will bust it wide open."

Aled brushed the seat of his pants off, and peered at the redhead consideringly, "How does one defend against it?"

Will smirked, "That would be telling."

Aled scoffed at Will's sudden reticence, but clapped him on the shoulder good naturedly, "Good bout, Will."

"Indeed it was," Will agreed, "But I'm famished—join me for lunch, Master Flint?"

Aled laughed, "You're a mouthful of manners, Master Will." He affected a high instep to his walk and said, in a snotty voice that didn't suit his low baritone at all, "I'd be just delighted."

Will laughed, "And our little watcher must come too," he waved Harry over with an broad gesture, "Come, Harry, won't you grace our party for lunch?"

"I wouldn't dare intrude on such lofty company," Harry said airily, playing along even as she stood and walked over to them, "A poor player like myself would never do it justice."

"But a mite like yourself wouldn't dare refuse our gracious invitation, surely," Will tugged her along by the sleeve in a casual gesture that belied his stuffy words.

"Well, if my lord insists," Harry grinned, shrugging, "Then my lord won't be adverse to paying."

Will shot her a disgruntled look, but snorted agreeably, "That'll teach me to play games with tricksters."

Harry's only response was an innocent look that said, 'who, me?'

Will was quite friendly once he stopped being careful, she discovered, and he chatted easily with she and Aled as they waited for Solom to get lunch going.

"Didn't you say you'd be out of the country for a while?" Harry asked eventually, "What brings you back so soon?"

He grimaced, "In truth I haven't left yet. The job I was going to do keeps getting postponed, so I'm hanging around here to pick up work until I get the go ahead."

Harry tilted her head, curious to know if this was the same job she'd heard about at the Burrow earlier in the summer (for she was about as certain as she could be that Will was Bill Weasley, considering she'd only met the elder Weasley brother once). "What country will you be working in?"

"Egypt," Will said slowly, "I do a lot of work there—most curse-breakers do, actually, as the oldest and most interesting curses are all found in Egypt, India, and China."

"Is that why you dress this way?" Harry gestured to his desert-style clothing, the light, loose pants and tunic.

"That, and it's comfortable," Will said, shrugging. Then he grinned, "Plus it makes me look exotic—the ladies love it."

Harry raised an eyebrow "Your red hair kind of kills that effect, don't you think? You just look like an Englishman in costume."

Will looked affronted, "I do not—I look adventurous, and interesting. Women get all excited if you have a dangerous job. That's why they love Aurors and Quidditch players so much." He spoke as if he was imparting deep words of wisdom to her, and Harry wondered if he actually believed such nonsense about girls.

"Aurors and Quidditch players get their names in the paper a lot," Harry pointed out, deciding she would be ridiculous if he was, "Maybe it's the fame, not the danger, that attracts people. Curse-breakers don't get very famous, though, do they?"

"We're well enough known," Will said defensively, "Our work is very important, and highly specialized."

Harry put on her best 'musing' expression, "I don't think I can name any curse-breakers off the top of my head."

Will narrowed his eyes at her, but said, "It's better if we aren't famous. It would be dangerous if everyone knew who the gifted ward-breakers were."

"A lot more jobs would probably come your way, though," Harry said, unable to suppress a grin.

"That's—" Will sighed at the amused look on her face, "You're having me on, kid."

"I'm not a kid," Harry frowned.

Will sized her up, "You look about eleven. Have you even got a wand yet?"

"I'm almost thirteen," Harry said.

"Still a kid, then," Will smirked, "You're not a real wizard until your core is fully developed."

Harry didn't agree, "Anyone who holds a wand is a real wizard. An eleven-year-old can kill with one as easily as a thirteen-year-old can."

"Killed many wizards, have you?" Aled put in gruffly, clearly dismissive.

"I'm not saying I have," Harry said, "I just think magic is powerful, and shouldn't be dismissed just because of the age of its bearer."

Will looked at her consideringly, then nodded his head slowly, "Perhaps you're right. You have to admit there's a big difference between a wizard before his thirteenth birthday, and one after, though."

Harry only shrugged, "I haven't had my thirteenth birthday, so I wouldn't know. I respect my magic, though, no matter that it isn't considered 'fully matured' yet."

"Enough word-mincing," Aled said, "I want to know that lightning-spell you used on me."

Will grinned again, "I really shouldn't. You could put me out of business if I taught you all my tricks."

Seeing he wasn't outright refusing, and quite curious herself, Harry chimed in, "It's just one trick—it looks hard, anyway. We might not even be able to reproduce it, we just want to see it explained." She wasn't being entirely truthful. If she could, she absolutely wanted to learn that spell—it looked dead useful. From the look in Aled's eyes, he agreed.

"And we're not going in to curse-breaking any time soon, are we, Harry?" Aled said easily.

Harry shook her head, "Better money in potion brewing—more fame, too," she added, just to see Will grimace.

He didn't grimace, though, but looked interestedly at her, "You want to be a potioneer?"

"He is a potioneer," Aled laughed shortly, "Haven't you heard what Harry does around here? He works for Krait."

"He's twelve," Will blinked.

"I'm right here," Harry reminded him.

"You're twelve," Will told her, "Not old enough to work."

"Technically there is no legal age requirement for work in magical Britain," Harry informed him, "People hire based on skill, not age. I could take aging potions every day if I wanted to, and it wouldn't change my skill or experience."

Will looked unconvinced, but shrugged, "I suppose if it's what you want. You still go to school, don't you?"

Harry smiled, "Of course. I'm not going to work for Krait forever. But you've changed the subject—are you going to show us the spell or not?"

The redhead sighed, "After lunch?"

They agreed, and even Will seemed to be looking forward to it once he'd given in. Harry thought he seemed the type to enjoy sharing knowledge with others, a bit like Blaise Zabini in that respect.

Leo dropped in by the time lunch was served, as he usually did, though he didn't join their table until they'd almost finished. He spent a while talking to a pair of women at a corner table first, then spoke to a man who came in carrying a dirty toddler, before eventually sitting down at their table and calling for a bowl of soup.

He snagged Harry's cup and said, "Do you mind? I'm parched," before gulping at its contents thirstily. A moment later he made a face and peered into it, "This is milk."

"It's good for you," Harry said, rolling her eyes, "And you'd have known it was milk if you asked."

"Sorry," Leo said, seeming genuinely apologetic as he looked from her to her cup, "I'll get you a new one."

"I was done anyway," Harry shrugged. In the alleys she didn't want to be treated like she was a high-class lady, unable to drink after a man—but at the same time, she didn't really want to drink after Leo.

Leo shrugged, and finished the beverage with equanimity, "Thanks. So, how's your internship going?"

"Well," Harry said, "I'm still in the research phase, but I think the final project will be interesting."

"What's your topic?" Leo asked.

"Experimental methods of imbuing," Harry said, "I think it has a lot of potential for innovation in the field."

"You weren't kidding about being a brewer," Will said, laughing self-deprecatingly, "What is the world coming to when twelve-year-olds are the innovators in their field?"

"Makes you feel old, don't it?" Aled chuckled, "Our Harry's going to change the world."

Harry grinned, flushing slightly with pleasure. It was nice to have people believe in you, even if they were poking fun at you, too.

"The world needs changing," Leo said, glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eye, "Harry, at least, will change it for the better, I think."

"Not many try to change the world for the worse, Leo," Harry said, thinking of Mr. Riddle.

"As long as you try," Leo shrugged, "If everyone is trying, the result should be somewhere in the middle, right?"

Harry was struck by how true that was, and merely nodded in response to his inquisitive look. Will and Aled were finished, so Harry pushed her plate away and started digging in her pockets for her purse.

"My treat, remember?" Will said, flashing her a grin.

Harry shook her head, "I was kidding. I wouldn't make you pay."

"A kid like you shouldn't be paying for his meals anyway," Will said stubbornly, pulling out the coins for both of their meals and placing them gently on the table.

If nothing else had told her Will didn't have money to waste, the serious way he treated even the few coins he spent on lunch would have made it clear. Harry felt doubly guilty for accidentally freeloading off of him, and promised silently to pay him back when he wasn't looking.

"I told you, I'm not a kid," Harry said, standing from the table, "Next time, I'll pay."

Leo shot her a hard-to-read look as he slowly stirred his soup, "Where are you off to now, Harry?"

"Will's going to teach Aled and me a spell," Harry said, smiling slightly with anticipation.

Leo cocked his head and stood as Aled did, picking up his bowl so he could keep eating as he followed them out to the courtyard, "What kind of a spell?"

"A ward-breaker," Aled spoke up, anticipation clear, "What's it called, Will?"

"It's referred to officially as the Double Current Spell," Will said, "But most of us call it the Pincer."

"It turned my shields against one another," Aled told Leo, "Disrupted all the meshing I'd done to weave them together until they destabilized."

Will patted his pockets down and came up with a worn, white handkerchief. He placed it on the ground, and then proceeded to erect a basic ward around it. Harry watched carefully as Will moved his wand in a circle around the handkerchief, once, twice, then a third time. Faint indents in the dirt around the handkerchief showed that the ward had been erected, and with another twist of his wand, Will turned it red, so they could see the shield clearly.

"The incantation is fulgur flumen," he said, repeating it twice more while Aled and Harry tried to imitate his inflection. "The wand movement is two quick sweeps at chest height to either side of your body, like so. Not too broad." He demonstrated by moving his wand quickly back and forth before his chest.

Harry pulled out her wand and imitated the back and forth flick several times before trying to combine it with the words. She said them a few times, moving her wand back and forth until she felt the movement was in synch with the incantation. At this point she paused, and took a moment to wrap her will around what she wanted to accomplish. She envisioned the twin arcs of orange light she remembered, the way they would turn and bore into the sides of the shield. I want to disrupt it, she thought to her magic, Help me cast this spell to disrupt that shield?

She felt the magic stir, a bit impatiently. Perhaps it didn't enjoy languishing so much during the summer months. Harry bound her will to her magic, and moved her wand sharply, saying the words aloud, this time with intention.

At the end of each sweep-flick, a jet of orange flew from her wand. She noticed Aled taking a startled step back as it came toward him, but he needn't have worried. Before it got very far, the orange light moving in his direction curved, mirroring the movement of its twin, and both collided into the sides of the shield. It held valiantly for a moment, but orange sparks licked their way across it and it wavered visibly.

Sensing victory, Harry shot a color-changing charm at it, and the wriggling ray of magic burst through the failing ward easily. An instant later, the handkerchief was a spectacularly bright green, and Harry laughed in triumph.

"Sorry about your handkerchief, Will," Harry said, turning to grin at him, "I can change it back, if you like."

Will just stared at her, "How did you do that?"

Harry's smile faltered, "You just showed us. Thank you, by the way. That's a really interesting spell. It's sort of fun, too. It tingles, going through your veins, doesn't it?"

Will let out a weak laugh, looking uncertain, "I haven't noticed. You…haven't learned that before, have you? Only, you picked it up pretty quickly."

She shrugged a bit, not sure what to say. She always picked up spells quickly, but it would seem like bragging to say so. She also didn't think she could take credit for it—her magic just liked being used, and when she asked nicely, it was always eager to help her.

"It wasn't that difficult," she said, shifting uncomfortably, "Aled can do it too, I bet."

Aled just shook his head, "I'll give it a go, of course, but, blimey. You've got a knack for ward-breaking, lad."

Will kept shaking his head with bemusement, but shrugged it off a moment later as Aled asked to see the wand-movement again.

Harry chanced a glance at Leo, who was observing her calmly from where he leaned against the wall. There was no sign of his bowl, so presumably one of the kitchen boys had come to collect it while she'd been distracted learning. She walked over to join him as Will began constructing the basic ward once more, this time around a lime-green handkerchief.

"Don't you want to learn the spell?" she asked, settling in to watch Aled's first few attempts.

"I know the Pincer already," Leo said, smiling a bit, "Though the man who taught me called it the Lightning Jaw. It's come in handy, a time or two. Wizards who layer their wards think they're so clever, but you'd be surprised how many of them aren't clever enough to include failsafe buffers between the layers, in case their elegant meshing spells are disrupted."

"The spell doesn't just work on meshing spells, though, does it?" Harry asked, "The ward Will constructed for us is just a basic, unilayered shield, isn't it?"

"The Pincer's usefulness is that it creates a weakness to exploit, even if the shield is all one piece," Leo explained, "The currents produced by the two sides jar the magic they encounter, shaking it briefly out of the patterns that keep it stable. The weaker the magic, the more easily it's shaken. If there was just one point of contact, the shaking wouldn't matter, because the magic would just settle right back into its patterns, but with two opposing currents, the magic gets jostled out of it patterns and into other bits of magic that have also been jolted briefly from their shape. Everywhere the currents meet, magic clashes. When there's one spell, it simply collapses, but when there are multiple layers, the currents cause them to collide and destabilize one another. It can get pretty messy, depending on how many layers they are, and how dangerous they are to one another."

Harry raised her eyebrows, "Will used it on Aled's shields while he was behind them—is that dangerous?"

"For you and me, probably," Leo acknowledged, "But Will's an expert. He probably knew what shields he was dealing with, and how they'd interact with the spell, before he cast it."

Harry's esteem for Will rose a bit more, hearing that. He may have an alter ego, but at least he was responsible with his magic.

"So why the sudden interest in ward-breaking?" Leo asked, "Thought nothing could tear you from a cauldron for so long."

Harry smiled in acknowledgement of the friendly ribbing, "There's nothing about this spell in particular. Will just happened to be willing to show us this one. I was watching them duel, earlier."

He must have heard the wistful tone that slipped into her voice, for he said slyly, "So you're interested in dueling. Ever thought about learning?"

Harry shrugged, "I've been learning a bit of self-defense from my uncle, but it's nothing like what you guys do here. Freedueling is fascinating. Is it okay that I come here to watch when people use the practice yard?"

"Of course," Leo said, smiling, "You could join in, if you want to learn."

Harry frowned uncomfortably, "I'm not good enough to learn anything yet. I'd just be in the way, I think."

Leo considered her for a moment, "You sure about that? I think you'd be handy in a duel, with magic like yours."

She wasn't sure what he meant about 'magic like hers,' but she pointed out, "Freedueling doesn't only test magic. It's the physical stuff I'd have trouble with."

Leo eyed her gangly frame with a grin, "Because you're…small for your age?"

Harry rolled her eyes, suspecting he was ribbing her about being a girl, "Because I don't know how to fight physically, and I don't fancy learning on the fly."

"I could teach you the basics," Leo said, his tone changing from teasing to coaxing in an instant, "No offense to you're uncle, but I can show you a few tricks you won't see in any formal duel."

Harry rather thought he could, at that, but… "You've got enough to do around here," Harry said, a bit regretful, but unwilling to encroach on his free time, which was rather limited from what she gathered.

"You can never have too much to do," Leo said easily, "Come on, Harry. Let me teach you how to throw a punch, at least."

Harry snorted softly, "I know how to throw a punch." James had seen to that, practically the moment he'd noticed her hair getting long. "I'd rather learn how to avoid one."

"I can teach you that, too," Leo said, "You might as well, if you're going to show up here anyway to watch."

"I really don't want to impose on our friendship," Harry said again, "You do so much for me already. It feels unequal."

"What do I do for you?" Leo raised an eyebrow, "You don't brew much for Krait these days, so I can't help with the crates."

"You helped me get furnishings for my place," Harry said lowly, glancing over to make sure Will and Aled were still preoccupied.

"That was in payment for a debt of stupidity I owed you," Leo grimaced, not liking the reminder, apparently, "Tell you what, you want to trade?"

"Yes," Harry nodded. She felt good about trading favors. Maybe she'd spent too much time in Slytherin House, but it felt more comfortable and straightforward than letting Leo one-sidedly help her until she found a way to pay him back for things.

Leo took a moment to think, then grinned, "Come with me to see my ma this weekend."

"Mrs. Hurst?" Harry tilted her head, "I'd love to. How would that be a favor to you, though?"

"She interrogates me about you all the time," Leo huffed a laugh, "If I bring you home with me, she'll have to lay off me for a night."

Harry blinked, "You want me to come to your house? I could just swing by the clinic, couldn't I?"

Leo's eyelids lowered as he considered her, "You don't want to have dinner with my family and me?"

"I don't want to intrude," Harry said carefully, "And…I'm sort of interning at your father's Guild, in case you've forgotten. If anyone finds out he had me over to dinner, it'll look even more like he played favorites to get me a spot."

"Don't let anyone know," Leo shrugged, "Are you really worried about what anyone else thinks? Once they see your work, the doubters will either quiet down or risk looking like fools."

Harry nodded slowly, "All right. If it's agreeable to your parents, I tentatively accept—I have to ask my parents too, but I don't think they'll mind."

"I forget you have parents, sometimes," Leo said thoughtfully, "They can come too, if they want."

Harry blanched, "That's not funny."

"Who's joking?" Leo said seriously, "My parents will probably extend the invitation to them anyway, now that I think about it."

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," Harry said, trying not to imagine her parents and Mrs. Hurst and Leo all in one room. What if they traded information about her?

"Relax," Leo said, reaching over to ruffle her hair, as if to physically brush the worry off of her, "I'll warn my parents not to bring up your job at Krait, or anything about the time you spend in the alleys. Everything will be fine. It's just dinner."

Harry silently wished people would stop telling her things would be fine, but then…babysitting Addy hadn't been as bad as all that. Perhaps she was over-reacting. It's not like her parents would be having dinner with the Malfoys. The Hursts couldn't reveal anything too dangerous. They didn't even know about Rigel Black.

"Ask them, then," Harry sighed, hoping she wasn't making a big mistake, "I'll ask my parents when yours give the okay."

Leo grinned, "Cheer up, Harry. It'll be fun."

Harry smiled back gamely, "I'm sure you're right."

"And come here tomorrow morning," Leo added, "We'll work on not getting punched."

"Can't wait," Harry said, her smile a little more genuine this time. An awkward dinner would be worth it, if she got more defense lessons out of it. How much could go wrong, really, between appetizers and dessert?

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

She threw herself into research for the rest of the afternoon, taking a break for exercise, defense instruction with Remus, and dinner before diving back in until the short hours of the night. When the words on the page she was reading began to blur, she realized the fire in the library grate was running low. Judging by the headache she could feel pulsing behind her eyelids, she'd been squinting without realizing it for some time.

She yawned, scribbled out a few notes on what she'd been thinking, then shut the tomb on a thin bookmark and stood, stretching. She was learning a lot about the use of stones in potions, but she'd found no recognizable references to imbuing shaped magic. She knew it existed—she'd done it! So why wasn't there any theory? Perhaps there was a technical name for it, and she was overlooking the references or simply not looking in the right categories of research? Tomorrow, she would have to ask Master Thompson for his guidance. If he was unwilling to help, then maybe she could start with the practical part of her research, and backtrack to the theoretical in retrospect.

Wondering about the professional implications of reverse-engineering ones own potion, she crept along the dark hallway toward her bedroom.

Her room wasn't terribly interesting, with plain walls barely visible behind the many bookcases, the contents of which were mostly journals, not books, and were numbered in order of publication. It was one of her indulgences, keeping old potion journals, and she was quite proud of her collection. She even had a few noteworthy editions that had been published before she was born, containing the most exciting and controversial of breakthroughs in the field.

Beyond that…she could admit her room was a bit sparse, with just a bed and doors leading to the closet and bathroom. She'd had a bedside table once, she vaguely remembered, but had gotten rid of it to squeeze another bookcase in. The austereness didn't bother her, since she didn't spend much time there, but it sometimes felt a little barren in the middle of the night, without anything to even throw interesting shadows on the wall.

She set the tomb she was reading at the foot of her bed, where she could find it easily when she woke, and quickly changed into her pajamas. Most people would find it odd how much she enjoyed turning back the covers and slipping between them, dressed only in a short nightgown, but in September she would be back to sleeping fully dressed, on top of the covers, so she shamelessly enjoyed the decadence of sleeping normally, for now.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

Eight-o-clock found Harry striding determinedly into a glowering Master Thompson's office.

"I need help with my research," she told him, not bothering to sit down, "Are you busy?"

"I'm always busy," Thompson huffed, casting a quick obscuring charm over his desk's surface so she couldn't see what he was working on.

"So now's as good a time as any?" Harry asked, smiling sweetly, "Great. I can't find any references to shaped imbuing, and I need to know if it might be catalogued under a more specific designation."

Thompson sighed, and reached into one of his drawers to pull out a packet of papers, "I told you, I've never heard of what you're trying to research. What would it even mean to imbue magic that wasn't unshaped, at least without casting a spell at the cauldron, which wouldn't in fact be adding anything to the potion?"

Harry started to answer, but Thompson held up a hand.

"While we're on the subject of things no one understands, the safety division sent your potion back to me last night," Thompson said, passing the paperwork over, "This is their preliminary evaluation, but they want you to make three more doses so they can do additional testing."

Harry glanced over the report, "It says it's 'tentatively approved for magical human consumption.' That's good, isn't it?"

"Read the rest of it," Thompson snorted.

"They request an additional copy of the recipe," Harry said, puzzled, "What was wrong with the first one?"

"They think it was miscopied," Thompson said plainly, "The recipe you gave them was for a weightless draught."

"The potion is a weightless draught," Harry frowned, "I explained that. All the ingredients and steps are the same—only the kind of magic imbued is different."

"No one understands what that means," Thompson sighed, "Potter, you seem to have hit on something—the report agrees the potion acts like you claim, as a self-controlled hover charm. It's your methods that don't make any sense. You can't change the nature of magic you imbue, without changing the nature of whatever's doing the imbuing. If you use a different kind of stone to add the magic, it would make sense. Your recipe doesn't reflect that, though."

Harry could feel herself getting frustrated, and bit her lip to stop herself from snapping. How else could she explain it? "When you cast a spell, you aren't releasing raw magic into the air," she said, "You shape it first, and then it gets released as a spell. Usually when you imbue, you just channel raw magic into the potion, but you don't have to do it that way. You could shape the magic first, then imbue that into the potion."

Thompson frowned at her, clearly not following.

"Imagine you cast a hover charm at a potion," Harry said, "But instead of pointing your wand at it and letting the magic manifest as a hover charm and then travel the distance to the potion, you shape the magic without releasing it, then channel the shaped, unreleased magic directly into the potion, so it doesn't manifest as a spell in the air, but as an effect of the potion once the potion is drunk."

"Casting a spell on most potions would make them explode," Thompson said.

"You're not casting it on the potion, you're incorporating it as part of the potion," Harry said, "It probably wouldn't work to imbue a spell that had opposite effects of the potion you put it into, but for the hover charm and the weightless draught, it works just fine. I'm not sure, because I can't find any actual theory, but I think the imbued magic gets trapped by the structure of the potion's magic, and works symbiotically with it—just like when you use stones to imbue kinds of magic into potions. It's more specific and useful than stones, though, because their properties are so general and vague."

Thompson sucked in his cheeks and seemed to chew on them for a moment, "Theoretically, I understand the point you're making. If you could imbue something as complex as a spell like you can imbue the passively shaped magic of stones, it would be an enormous asset to manipulating the effects of potions." Harry nodded, but Thompson shook his head ruefully, "But you can't just do that. Physically, you can't shape magic without releasing it. The shaping happens too close to the releasing."

Now Harry was the one who didn't understand, and said so.

"Merlin knows I'm no expert in magical theory," Thompson grumbled. He took in her frustrated expression, and sighed, "Okay, it's like this: why do you think you learn incantations and wand movements when you learn to cast a spell?"

Harry blinked, "Because, that's how you cast spells?"

Thompson favored her with a condescending look, "Do you really think you're pulling some mysterious lever in the universe when you speak an incantation? The ability to shape magic doesn't come from the universe, it comes from you. You exert will over your magic, and a spell is the result. The incantations and wand movements help you shape the magic. The magic is channeled through the wand, and as it moves through the wand, the movements you make create a familiar pattern for the magic to follow. Wand movements are worked out based on which patterns best coax the magic into the right shape for the spell's effects."

"So the wand movement helps with the physical shaping," Harry repeated slowly, "What about the incantations?"

"An incantation helps you mentally," Thompson said, "It provides a mental trigger, or pathway, to help you shape your will along. The incantation can be dispensed with, if you perform a spell often or if your will is phenomenally strong, which is why silent magic is possible."

"Wandless magic is possible, too," Harry said, frowning, "You can shape magic without the wand movements and without incantations."

"But the point is that incantations and wand movements shape the magic as you're already channeling it," Thompson said, obviously trying to explain something he wasn't entirely sure about, "It's a simultaneous process, external to simply drawing on your magic. You can't shape magic without releasing it, because it's shaped as you release it, usually through the wand itself. When you imbue a potion, the magic goes straight from your core to the potion, unmanipulated."

"But it doesn't have to be," Harry said, feeling like she was repeating herself, "If you can do silent, wandless magic, why can't you shape it without releasing it, too?"

"You just can't," Thompson exhaled sharply, "All right, clearly one of us is missing something." His tone made it fairly clear which one of them he thought that was, "Why don't you show me? Show me what you're doing, exactly, and I'll try and explain it after the fact."

"Now?"

Thompson pushed his chair back and stood, running a hand over his face tiredly, "Might as well. We'll use the student lab."

Harry followed him down the hall gamely, more than tired of arguing about it abstractly. When he saw it for himself, he wouldn't be able to say it was impossible, right?

The lab was empty when they arrived, and Thompson, rather than taking a seat and watching, began setting up a cauldron at one of the stations. Harry quickly went to the storeroom to collect the ingredients needed for the Weightless Draught, and when she came back Thompson had everything ready for them to begin.

With the two of them working together, the potion was prepared in no time. Harry found herself thinking how convenient it was, working alongside someone who didn't need to see a recipe any more than she did, and who was always ready with the next step even as she completed the last.

When it came to the imbuing stage, Harry connected her core to the potion. On impulse, she reached out a rope of her magic to Thompson's magical core, too, and sent a pulse along that cord, saying, "Can you focus on the connection? Watch what I do."

Thompson grunted, but she saw him close his eyes and assumed he was sending his awareness along the connection she'd made and toward the channel between her core and the potion. She closed her own eyes, and concentrated on the feeling of casting a hover charm. She asked her magic to shape itself like it would shape a hover charm, waiting until she felt a ball of shaped magic coalesce in her gut, before asking her magic to send that magic down the connection to the potion. It was getting easier, she noticed, the more times she did it.

When she opened her eyes and broke the connection, it was to see Thompson staring at her as though she had grown an additional head.

"What was that?" Thompson breathed, looking between her and the potion, "Never mind, don't try and explain it to me again. Potter, can you perform wandless magic?"

Harry nodded cautiously, well aware that her magic's propensity to act without her wand's direction at times was unusual.

Thompson took a deep breath, let it out, and pinned her with a weighty gaze, "Okay, here's what we're going to do. I'll stall the safety division for the time being. You keep working on this project of yours. Don't worry about finding theory to back up your claims—I can almost guarantee you won't find it in any resources you have access to. I'll take a look around myself, but you need to focus on experimentation. You said you want to create a potion?"

Harry nodded, "I want to create a sort of neutral base, a potion that by itself doesn't do anything except act as a receptor for shaped magic. That way, it would be versatile. My goal was then to try to imbue a shield charm into potion form."

"To act as a continuous shield when drunk?" Thompson asked, "That could be interesting, though it might cause a few problems, depending on whether it could be taken down or if you'd have to wait for it to wear off."

"Actually," Harry said, "I thought it would make a good area-effect potion. Like a portable ward."

Thompson's eyebrows rose, "Yes…yes, I see. All right. Get to work, and report to me the moment you think you've made significant progress. I'll help you with composing the base potion, of course. It should be simple, but elegant…" He began ladling the Modified Weightless Draught into beakers, lost in thought. When he was done, he leveled a serious look at her, "Tell no one of this, understand?"

Harry nodded, taken aback, "I've already told my parents a bit, though."

"No one else," Thompson said, "This is important, Potter. I still don't know what you've done, but it was something, and the potential is…" he shook his head, "We must act carefully. Quickly, but carefully. I'll speak to Master Hurst myself." He grinned, suddenly, and Harry felt deeply gratified that he no longer looked bored with her, at least, "This is going to be a very interesting summer."

Harry, taken in by the excitement Master Thompson was exuding, found herself in cautiously hopeful agreement.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

Her theoretical research put on hold, the research for the experimentation portion of the project proceeded at once. The first step was to come up with a potion that would act as a neutral base, a potion whose effect was essentially to prolong the effects of the input variable. She thought she might use amber in it, for its permanence properties, but other than that she wasn't sure.

She fell into a routine easily over the next week: wake up, research until she went to the Phoenix to learn self-defense with Leo, lunch, then more researching. Training with Remus before dinner, then back to her lab to try out different combinations until she caught herself yawning.

Come Saturday, Harry took a break from experimentation to spend the day with Archie, who it seemed she'd hardly seen all summer, despite eating dinner with him every night. She flooed to Grimmauld Place and wandered about until she found Archie flipping idly through a medical journal in the front parlor. Draped around his shoulders, flicking its tongue at Archie's cheek repeatedly, was one of Sirius' little snakes.

"Thisss isss boring," the snake hissed at Archie's face, "Feed me."

Harry couldn't suppress a snort, which bloomed into a grin as both Archie and the snake turned their heads toward the doorway in identical expressions of mild curiosity.

"Harry," Archie smiled, "Please say you've come to entertain me. I'm so bored."

Harry chuckled, "So is that snake—by the looks of it," she added, in case Sirius was around to hear, "Want to hang out today?"

Archie tossed the periodical aside immediately, "Flying? We'd have to floo back to your place, but it's a nice day outside."

Harry agreed, and they split up to change clothes and grab their brooms.

Potter Place in Godric's Hollow had a decent-sized backyard. It was warded against muggle eyes, as the community was a mixture of wizards and muggle relations of wizards, who might have unsuspecting muggle visitors over at times.

With only the two of them, they couldn't play a proper game, but they could race. They flew in laps, playing follow the leader and improvising obstacle courses as they went. Harry grinned as Archie barrel-rolled over her head, and swiftly rolled after him. They twirled around one another in a dizzying whirl of speed, over and under, one leading until the other raced ahead, both laughing and calling out care-free taunts.

No matter how close they got, they never collided. She and Archie were completely different in terms of personality and interests, but they'd been flying together since they were four. Something just clicked when they were in the air together, and Harry honestly thought she and Archie could give the Weasley twins a run for their money in terms of synchronicity.

Archie sent her a grin, and dropped into a vertical dive. Harry was after him in a heartbeat, the wind blasting her hair back from her face as she chased Archie's tail. She pushed forward and drew level with him, laughing a challenge when he glanced over. They had been quite high in the air, but the ground was closing fast. She could see the dandelions among the slightly overgrown grass now, and still neither of them flinched. She saw Archie stretch out his hand from the corner of her eye, as though he were reaching for an invisible snitch. With a grin, Harry stretched out her own, and, as one, they jerked their brooms sharply upwards in the nick of time. Archie glided to a stop, hopping his broom and cheekily presenting Harry with a grubby handful of dandelions he'd picked just before pulling up.

Harry accepted them with a makeshift curtsey, then held out her closed fist with a smirk. Archie cupped his hands, raising an eyebrow, and Harry dropped the butterbeer bottle cap she'd nicked from the grass at the end of her own aborted dive.

Archie flipped it up with his thumb and caught it again, whistling appreciatively, "Nice, Harry. I think you win this one."

"The flowers are prettier, though," Harry said slyly, "More useful in a potion, too."

Archie rubbed his chin, "I don't know, I think this bottle cap has a lot of potential. You could start a whole new branch of potions using old bits of scrap."

"What would we call it?" Harry asked, "Garbage Goo?"

"Secondhand Sludge."

"Mishmashed Muck."

"Broken Brews."

"Salvaged Slop."

"Junkyard Juice."

"Recycled—"Harry floundered, "Uh…Recycled…Runny Stuff."

Archie laughed, "I totally win this one! So we're even."

"For now," Harry smiled teasingly, "Let's go again." She got back on her broom, waiting for Archie to mount up as well.

"Want to see who can fly the highest before passing out?" Archie joked.

"Whoever didn't pass out would have to dive pretty quick to catch the one who did," Harry said thoughtfully, eyeing Archie, "You're looking a little heavier than I remember you being. I'm not sure I could compensate for your weight."

"We could take Weightless Draughts first," Archie laughed.

Harry blinked, a slow grin spreading across her face.

"Oh, no, what have I said?" Archie chuckled, not looking at all alarmed. He never really objected to her wild ideas. That's what made Archie so great. Looking into his equally mischievous expression, she could almost pretend they were kids again, daring one another to sneak into Grimmauld Place's attic.

"I have this potion I've been meaning to test…" Harry said, smiling innocently, "When you mentioned the Weightless Draught, you reminded me about it."

"You want me to be your guinea pig?" Archie said, shaking his head, "I hope you intend to pay me."

"I'll compensate you if something goes wrong," Harry said, smiling widely, "Unless you're too scared."

Archie gave her an unimpressed look.

"Come on, Archiiee," Harry said, stretching out his name like she used to when they were very young, "Don't you trust me?"

"Not a lick," Archie said, "But Aunt Lily would kill me if I let you try it alone."

That was always his excuse for agreeing, but Harry didn't mind. "Whatever you need to tell yourself," she grinned, "Come, we can leave our brooms in the shed for now."

They stored them quickly, and, still riding the high of flying so daringly, traipsed into the house. Lily and James caught sight of them as they passed through, and Lily sighed loudly, "What are you two up to?"

"Up to?" Archie's guileless grin was positively flawless.

"Up to?" Harry echoed innocently, employing The Look on her parents with a complete lack of shame.

She could see James melting a bit in appreciation of their facetiousness, but Lily, Addy cradled in one practiced arm, frowned, "I know those excited grins. Whatever you're about to do it dangerous and unnecessary."

"And fun," Archie added helpfully.

"You had the same air of excitement right before my grandmother's Persian rug was found, charred beyond recognition, in the backyard," Lily said distrustfully.

Harry remembered vividly the day she and Archie had tried to create their own magic carpet, so they could fly to Diagon Alley and buy themselves an ice cream. At the time, their brooms still had charms on them to keep them from leaving the backyard.

"I'm pretty sure you never proved conclusively that that was us, and not Uncle James," Archie said.

"One of these days I will petition the Ministry to allow parents the right to use Veritaserum on their children," Lily muttered darkly, stalking into the kitchen in defeat.

"Don't blow yourselves up," James said, probably only half-kidding.

Archie and Harry just grinned at one another, and disappeared into Harry's basement lab.

Harry started setting up a cauldron, smiling as she did so, "I've been working on a base with Master Thompson. We finally came up with a good recipe yesterday, but I haven't tested it yet."

"Are you supposed to be testing it on humans?" Archie asked nervously.

"Well it's not made for muggles," Harry said thoughtfully, "I'm not sure what it would do to someone without a magical core to interact with. Maybe nothing. You're a wizard, though, so you'll probably be fine."

"I'm going to look for a bezor," Archie said, "But try not to make it poisonous."

Harry shook her head—as if she'd give anyone something that could be poisonous, no matter how excited she was. Still… "Third cabinet on the right." Better safe than sorry.

The beauty of the recipe she and Thompson had come up with was that it embodied simplicity. Most of the ingredients were neutral, and the rest were perfectly balanced by other ingredients, so that the result was a potion that acted much like an impression mold, almost completely featureless until the imbued magic made its 'impression' on it. At least, in theory.

It took less than fifteen minutes to complete. She spent a moment considering what to imbue in it, and decided a simple, harmless spell would be the best way to test its efficacy. She asked her magic to shape a simple hair-changing charm, and imbued that into the potion carefully.

The potion turned blue. It changed gradually from the murky-white color that it had been before she imbued, and by the time she finished it was a steady cerulean. The hair-changing charm would have been blue if she'd cast it with a wand, she noted, so the color change could be related to that. She hypothesized that the color of magic was related to its pattern and shape, not necessarily its manifestation, and it carried the color even when it wasn't released from a wand. Perhaps this would help in reading auras? The levitation charm was clear in color, so perhaps that was why she hadn't noticed its effect on the Weightless Draught.

Harry cleared away her workstation, while Archie examined the dose curiously, "Looks cheerful. Bet it tastes like sludge."

Harry smiled. That was one of the things she'd argued with Master Thompson about. The potion didn't have to do much, so there was no reason not to make it taste okay. She'd also insisted they limit themselves to inexpensive ingredients. Thompson had grumbled, but mostly attempted to comply with her requirements. There were still a few ingredients Harry wanted to look into substituting for cheaper ones, but on the whole the recipe had turned out well.

"Bottoms up," Harry said, eager to see if it worked. She was curious to know if the magic would be affected at all by its inclusion in a potion that wasn't designed with complimentary effects in mind, as the Modified Weightless Draught was.

Archie saluted her, keeping the bezor clutched in one hand, and tipped the vial into his mouth with the other. He smacked his lips thoughtfully, "Tastes like vanilla." He paused for a moment, then jerked his head in an odd half-twitch, "Tingles. Is my hair growing?"

Harry grinned as Archie's hair bled blue. Then she frowned. It was a sort of light brownish-blue, not the bright cobalt blue that the color-change spell itself should have produced. Had the effects been muted through the potion?

"What's wrong? Am I bald?" He reached up and patted his hair, looking relieved as he ran his finger through it.

"Let's go find a mirror," Harry said, leading the way upstairs.

They clustered into the main-floor bathroom, peering at Archie's hair from every angle. "Looks more like a muggle dye than a charm," Archie noted curiously, "Do you think it's permanent?"

Harry tilted her head, "Maybe. The charm isn't permanent—it wears off after a few hours, right? I'm not sure what a potion-form would do, though. The base potion doesn't have a temporal component, unlike the Weightless Draught, so…I don't know."

"That fills me with confidence," Archie drawled.

Harry shrugged, "That's why it's an experiment—I'm pretty sure it's safe, but I don't know exactly how the magic will interact with the potion base yet."

Archie laughed, "Still, it's pretty cool. Maybe there's a way to intensify the color? Or you could imbue two different versions of the charm and end up with a multi-color effect."

Harry blinked, turning it over in her head, "That's a great idea, Arch. Multiple imbued spells…I wonder if that would be sufficiently stable. Usually magic is the stabilizing agent in potions when ingredients clash. If the magic itself was unstable…it bears looking into."

"What are you two—" Lily peered into the bathroom, then groaned, "You aren't supposed to be doing magic over the holidays. No, not even a color charm Arcturus Rigel Black."

Archie held up his hands, "Harry did this to me, and it wasn't a spell."

Lily looked uneasy, "I've told James not to test experimental products on you two."

"We tested it on ourselves," Archie said proudly.

Lily sighed, "I'm not sure that's any better." She pulled out her wand and flicked it toward Archie's hair. It stayed blue. Frowning, Lily performed the wand-movements more accurately, and said "Finite Incantatum" out loud for good measure. Still, Archie's hair remained blue. "What on earth…?"

Harry and Archie broke into identical grins.

"Told you it wasn't a spell," Archie said happily, admiring his reflection.

"Muggle dye?" Lily raised an eyebrow, "You'd better hope it washes out."

"A potion," Harry said, "We sort of invented it. You can't cancel it with a spell."

Lily looked impressed, "Do your fathers know about this? It would really take pranking to a new level. Not to mention the potential for espionage…I assume it's easier to brew than Polyjuice?"

"And cheaper," Harry said, a bit smug, "And you don't have to look like someone else."

"Could you modify it?" Lily asked, thinking, "To change more than hair color?"

Harry shrugged, "Maybe. It's still in the experimental stage, but it seems like you can do a lot with it."

"Keep me posted on your progress," Lily said, eyeing Archie's hair seriously, "I think you're onto something big, Harry."

"You and Dad can come to the open house at the Potions Guild," Harry said, smiling. The interest in her mother's voice was gratifying, to say the least, "All the interns will present their projects."

"We'd love to," Lily assured her, "When you know the date, put it on our calendar."

Harry agreed, and she and Archie hurried back down to the basement so that she could record a few notes in her research journal. As she wrote, Archie absently poked about her lab, inspecting anything that had changed or moved since the last time he'd been down, and tossing questions at her over his shoulder.

"Why can't you cancel it with Finite?" Archie asked.

"It's not a spell," Harry said, "Spells that affect people's appearance are cast on people, like a piece of clothing that hangs on a person's body or aura, altering the way others see them. A potion isn't cast on you, it runs through you. Because it's in your physical system, spells cast to negate external magic won't work on it. That's why you can't Finite poison that's been ingested, and why potions like Polyjuice are so difficult to catch. Usually, you have to wait until a potion has run its course, or administer a counter-potion to the drinker's system."

"So that's why there are spells that dissolve glamours, but not any that negate Polyjuice," Archie said thoughtfully.

"There is a potion that undoes the effects of Polyjuice before it wears off," Harry said, "I've heard rumors that the goblins use it as a waterfall to protect the deeper vaults. I've never seen a recipe for it, though, and I'm not sure how a potion applied externally would be able to affect the Polyjuice in someone's system…maybe it's related to a person's aura? I think that can reflect the magical effects a person is under, sometimes."

"What?" Archie stared at Harry, alarm in his voice, "Someone could know I'm under Polyjuice by looking at my aura?"

Harry paused in writing, "Theoretically…yes." Why hadn't she considered that before? It was no problem for her, because she didn't have an aura, but Archie…

"That's bad, isn't it?" Archie said, looking pale.

"Not necessarily," Harry hastened to reassure him, "Most people can't see auras, and most of the people who can see auras can't read more than the strength of someone's magic. Even if you met someone who could read the nuances of your aura, I think it would still be difficult to tell exactly what was affecting you. No one knows about Modified Polyjuice, so even if they thought it looked like you were taking Polyjuice, if they saw you for more than an hour they'd know you couldn't be."

"Still, that could be dangerous," Archie said uneasily, "You never know who has skills like that."

"Mr. Riddle," Harry admitted, "And Professor Snape. Possibly the Weasley Twins, though I think they mostly read one another's."

Archie didn't look reassured, "You've met four people personally who can read auras? And you didn't think to mention that they could detect the use of Polyjuice?"

Harry frowned, "I don't have an aura, remember? They can't learn anything from me."

"Oh, yeah," Archie sighed, "But that's tricky, too, right? What are the odds that Rigel Black and Harry Potter both don't have an aura?"

"I know," Harry said, "There's supposed to be a way to manipulate your own aura. I've been studying, but I haven't got the hang of it yet."

"Well that sounds more important than you learning Healing, at the moment," Archie said, "So use the hours I've been tutoring you to work on aura manipulation as well. After everything we've been through, it would sure chafe to get called out on something so obscure."

Harry nodded, "I will. I've been meaning to look into it more, anyway. I think my lack of aura is why Addy doesn't like me."

Archie smiled, "You sure you can blame that on your aura? Maybe she's just discerning."

Harry maintained that Addy's unease wasn't personal, while Archie made disbelieving noises until they agreed to go to the Potter Library to settle the debate.

They dragged out various books on magical parenting and childcare, and set to work skimming through them.

"Look, this one says, 'magical children at times seem to have an instinctual awareness of those around them most likely to be dangerous to them,'" Archie skimmed further down the page, "It cites a case where a child refused to go on an outing with a family friend, and then it turns out later the guy was part of a rogue werewolf gang wanted for 'wanton destruction of property and bodily endangerment.'"

"That doesn't mean children can sense dangerous people—it just means they can sense werewolves," Harry pointed out, "We already knew that from Addy. She doesn't like Remus any more than she likes me, and Remus would never wantonly destroy anyone's property."

"Well here's one that says, 'magical children are superb judges of character.' Apparently very young babies were used to judge a person's worth back in the Dark Ages," Archie said, skimming his finger down the page, "They—oh, wait. It looks like they were actually being used to test for squibs. That's just wrong."

Harry blinked, "No, that's right."

Archie's face screwed up into a disturbed frown, "Harry, if you think using babies as squib-detectors is all right, you've definitely twisted something in your left frontal lobe. That's the part of the brain that makes moral judgments," he added after a moment.

Harry rolled her eyes, "I know. What part of 'I read your Healing textbooks' is confusing to you?"

"The part where you have time for that between curing incurable diseases and slaying basilisks," Archie said drolly.

"I told you I didn't slay anything," Harry said, mildly irritated, "I don't like insinuations that I kill things."

"Get used to them," Archie said, "Because the official story on the rumor mill in that you slayed that basilisk and then personally hacked it up for potion ingredients. And when I say you, and mean I, the real Arcturus Black. If anything, I should be annoyed at you for making me into some sort of ruthless demigod. I'll never be able to live up to my own reputation."

"You'll just have to do something so amazing that people forget all the things I did while I was you," Harry laughed, "Good luck with that, Arch."

"Thanks ever so," Archie said, a bit ruefully, "Back to our research, though. I still think Addy's Aversion (which I did just come up with all by myself) is indicative of your inferior moral character."

"And I say it's my magic," Harry said, "Here, look at this one. It's references by the author of the book you were just reading, and it talks about various theories for the deep, abiding prejudice that most wizards hold toward non-wizards."

"What does that have to do with children?" Archie asked, his interest clearly piqued.

"Everything," Harry murmured, still reading the rest of the passage herself, "This guy basically thinks wizards hate muggles because of an instinct that is carried over from childhood, rather than because of a cultural prejudice they learn later."

"That sounds like hippogriff dung," Archie said frankly.

"Yes, but listen to this," Harry cleared her throat and read aloud, "'magical children are able to sense the auras of those around them, an ability they normally lose by the time they are two years of age. It is theorized that the child develops this ability in the womb, as a way of recognizing the mother's magical core as distinct from the child's own developing core. Without the ability to differentiate between the two, the magic might meld together. There are also reports of expecting mothers who, for a short period of time during their pregnancy, develop the aura-sensing ability as well."

"That's why babies can tell wizards from muggles," Archie said slowly, "Because they can sense a magical aura—or lack thereof."

"And apparently they are comforted by the feeling of another magical core nearby," Harry said, gesturing to the page she was looking at, "The author argues that magical babies associate the feeling of an aura with the feeling of safety, because they think it means their parents or guardians are nearby to protect them. If they see someone their other senses tell them is humanoid like them, but they don't sense a magical aura, it confuses them. So Addy's just confused, because I don't have a magical aura."

"And she doesn't like Remus because there's something unsettling about a werewolf's aura?" Archie asked.

"I don't think it would have to be unsettling, necessarily," Harry said thoughtfully, "Just different. If the baby saw a human but felt something different from a normal wizard's aura, it would account for the same kind of confusion that muggles cause—at least according to this guy. He thinks wizards hate muggles because of that instinctual confusion and unsettlement a magical child feels around aura-less people. He thinks it carries over unconsciously into adulthood."

"That sort of makes sense," Archie said, "Except for the fact that rational human beings have the ability to act in ways that don't conform to blind instincts. You can't use biology to excuse conscious prejudice—you just can't!"

Harry shrugged, "I agree, but I could see how it could be a contributing factor. I wonder if the prejudice works both ways—are muggles unconsciously suspicious and uncomfortable around magical people? Can they feel something different, or would they not have that ability, not being able to sense magic in the first place? Do you think muggleborn children feel it too? Do you think they know instinctively that they are different from those around them?"

Archie cocked his head, "You know, Hermione said something the first time we stepped foot in AIM. She said she felt like she'd come home. I thought she meant it reminded her of her house of something—her parents are pretty well off for muggles, I think. Maybe she meant the feel of the magic, though."

"You should ask her," Harry said, "I'd be interested to know if that's the case."

"It would be rather heartbreaking, if it were," Archie said, rubbing his jaw slowly. He looked a bit silly doing it, but Harry didn't say so. "I mean, imagine feeling lost all your life and not knowing why. What if she cried and cried as a baby, instinctively searching for the comfort of magic that simply wasn't there? Or what about Halfblood children—what if one parent was magical and the other was a muggle, and the non-magical parent never had as close a connection with their child, just because they didn't have an aura? Or what if—"

"Archie," Harry put a hand on her cousin's shoulder gently, "Stop. You'll make yourself sick."

"It's just so unfair," Archie said, biting his lip.

"We don't know if it's true, though," Harry reasoned, "Ask Hermione. From what I hear, she seems to get along just fine with her parents, doesn't she? I don't think an instinct like this, even if it exists, can matter as much as actual love and care in the long run."

Archie sniffed, "You're right. Sorry. Anyway, I guess this means you won the debate."

"Forget the debate," Harry said, "Let's go steal some ice cream from the kitchen."

Archie smiled slightly, "Don't you have a dinner at your boyfriend's house later?"

"He's not—" Harry bit off what would have been seen as encouragement to Archie's teasing and affected a shrug, "I was going to steal the ice cream for you, Arch, but if you don't want any…"

Archie grinned, "I want you to know that I am in no way fooled or manipulated by you. That said, I would love some ice cream, Harry."

They laughed and started putting away the books.

"You are looking into this aura thing, though, right?" Archie asked, seeming genuinely concerned as he peered at Harry's calm expression.

"Of course," Harry said, "I know it's important for our rouse. I'd also like to hold my little sister before she turns two, come to that."

"I think you'll find the novelty wears off rather quickly," Archie said, shaking his head, "Babies are surprisingly heavy. And they spit."

"I bet they smell better than camels, though," Harry said.

"Not always," Archie said ominously as they closed up the Library and made their way to the kitchens.

Archie did indeed help himself to a bowl of ice cream. Harry was vaguely tempted, once she saw it in front of her, but she reminded herself that it would be impolite to show up at Leo's house and not eat anything, so she settled for writing up a few more notes on the potion they'd made. Archie's hair was still a dull blue, much to Harry's satisfaction. She didn't think it would wash out, either, so it would be interesting to see when it wore off, and whether it was a sudden or gradual fade.

She was of mixed feelings about the dinner at the Hursts' house. On the one hand, she was rather good friends with Leo by now, and he'd invited her specifically—not as part of a group, but a real, one-on-one invitation. Harry couldn't remember ever having received a personal invitation to someone's house before. It was both flattering and a bit overwhelming, and she did enjoy the company of both Healer Hurst and Aldermaster Hurst.

On the other hand…it smacked of favoritism, as Master Snape would say. Lestrange would have an absolute field day if he found out she had attended a private dinner at the Aldermaster's house. It also represented a danger that one or more of her secrets would be revealed. The only comforting thing about the situation was that the Hursts, at least, all knew that her job at Krait's and her familiarity with the Lower Alleys were secrets, and might at least attempt to help her steer the conversation away from more dangerous topics.

Lily and James were both ready to go by the time Harry changed into the only semi-formal dress robes she owned and joined them at the floo grate.

"You look marvelous, Harry," Lily said, hugging her spontaneously.

Harry looked down at the elegantly draped robes that didn't quite hide her gangly limbs, despite their rich fabric and beautiful burgundy tone. She thought she looked rather odd, but then she was used to wearing male-cut dress robes, and never felt quite at home without her brewing boots in any case. The delicate embroidered slippers just didn't feel secure on her feet.

"Thanks, Mom," she said, shrugging a bit uncomfortably. Taking in Lily's subtle silver-blue robes, which made her fiery hair look like bursting firecrackers around her face, Harry smiled more genuinely, and said, "You look beautiful."

"What, no sweet words for your dear old dad?" James asked, pouting playfully.

Harry eyes his sharp navy robes critically. He was the perfect foil to Lily's lighter blue ensemble, but Harry simply shrugged, saying, "You look the same as you always do."

James affected a blow to the heart, stumbling back dramatically, "Can it be? Is all my primping for naught?"

"Hang on," Harry's eyes widened, "I do see something different." Just as James' eyes widened hopefully, Harry shook her head, "No, my mistake. I thought your abs looked flabbier, but I'm sure that was just a trick of the light."

Lily laughed, and helpfully retrained James while Harry made a quick getaway via floo.

She landed gracelessly on the other side, and looked up to see Leo grinning down at her in trim dress robes of forest green, which brought out the flecks of green in his bright hazel eyes. As he reached a hand down toward her, she realized she was sprawled on her bum still, and accepted the hand gratefully. She stood just in time to avoid colliding with her parents, who flooed in together.

They made a sickeningly cute couple, arms wrapped around one another and in matching dress robes, laughing as they dusted the ash from one another's clothes. Harry appreciated their closeness, but felt a bit apart from the picture they made, at times. She wasn't relaxed enough or likable enough, she sometimes supposed, to really complete the picture. Archie was, but Archie was Sirius', and Harry knew from experience that she didn't fill that spot any better.

"Lord Potter," Leo held out his hand toward James, his smile turned up to its most charming, "Lionel Hurst. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

James' smile was lazily friendly, "Just James is fine," he said, "This is my wife, Lily. We're delighted to say the least to finally make the acquaintance of the only male friend Harry's ever had." He finished his statement with a shark-like grin in Leo's direction, which prompted Leo to grin back appreciatively.

Harry half-groaned, "Is that really necessary, Dad?"

"Necessary? No. It's fun," James said ruffling Harry's hair irrepressibly.

Leo led them into a drawing room done in rose and white, where his parents were waiting by the wide window. "Mother, Father, may I present Lord and Lady Potter? And of course you know Harry."

"It is wonderful to meet the parents of such a bright and engaging young woman," Mrs. Hurst stepped forward in robes of lilac silk, clasping Lily's hand between her own and encompassing both she and James in a smile that was warm and familiar.

"She's pretty remarkable," James agreed, smiling proudly, "We couldn't believe she'd gotten the internship—I suppose we have you to thank for that, Master Hurst."

Aldermaster Hurst waved his hand artlessly, "Harry has only herself to thank. Her natural talent is remarkably well honed for a student her age."

"The Aldermaster is too kind," Harry assured her parents, "I'd never have been offered the internship if not for him."

"The man who discovers a gem cannot take credit for its color and shine—that must go to the ones who molded it," Master Hurst inclined his head in a mock-bow to Lily and James, "To you, I give heartfelt thanks for the obvious care that has been put toward her raising. Facts and theories I can teach, but drive and initiative come from a good upbringing."

Harry could feel her face flushing at the bold praise, and even her parents seemed unsure what to say to such a blatant compliment. Leo didn't hesitate to add his knut, though, saying in a lazy drawl, "Some of it must be natural, Father, else I'd have turned out as fine as Harry did."

Master Hurst laughed, and the others joined in just after, "True enough, my son, true enough. Merlin knows I tried."

He eyed Leo with a mock-disappointed look that was obviously meant to be amusing, but Harry felt compelled to defend her friend nonetheless, "Leo turned out just fine. He's a highly responsible and driven young man."

"That's odd," Master Hurst raised an eyebrow, "I was certain you'd met my son."

As Harry bit her tongue to keep from saying that she probably knew Leo better than he did, Mrs. Hurst said hastily, "Let's leave our poor children alone, shall we? Goodness knows we can critique them enough on our own time. We're all here for dinner, are we not?"

"I hope so," Lily said, smiling, "If that's what I'm smelling, it promises to be divine."

She and Mrs. Hurst began comparing recipes, and Harry freely admitted to tuning out the entire conversation. She wasn't interested in cooking, unless it was done with potion ingredients. Leo engaged James in a conversation about one of the Marauder joke products he'd seen used in a particularly creative way, and Aldermaster Hurst sidled over to speak to Harry.

"How's your project coming along, Harry?"

"Well, Master Hurst," Harry said, "I'm in the experimental stage. Has Master Thompson spoken with you about it yet?"

"He has given me a general overview," Hurst acknowledged, "But I admit I did not entirely comprehend the explanation."

"One of the difficulties I'm having is relating it to known theories," Harry admitted, "But I've hope that more experimentation will reveal something about the processes at work."

"Hmm," Hurst peered thoughtfully at her, "Well, let me know if you hit any snags. Thompson seems to think the project has real potential—I'm inclined to trust his judgment, knowing what I do about you."

"Please stop praising me, sir," Harry said, gazing seriously up at the man for a moment, "I really haven't earned it yet."

"Yet, is it? That's why I like you, Miss Potter," Hurst laughed, "You've a nice thirst to prove yourself, but you won't take handouts."

Harry gave up trying to mentally squirm away from the uncomfortable feeling of flattered guilt that was welling up in her. She didn't deserve such high esteem. Most of what she learned in the last two years came from Snape, who would never get credit for his teaching of her. Apart from not deserving it, she also just wasn't used to it. Snape was a brilliant Master, but he didn't exactly dole out praise with any amount of liberalness.

They moved into the dining room and Leo dutifully carried the platters of food out from the kitchen while the rest of them sat down. Harry's seat was next to Leo, with her parents on the opposite side and the Hursts' at either end of the rectangular table.

"So I expect we'll be seeing you again at the Open House for the student showcase," Master Hurst said as they all dug into the meal.

"We'd love to come," Lily agreed, "We're all very excited to see how Harry's project turns out."

"So are those of us at the Guild who've heard about it," Hurst said, shooting Harry an amused smile, "I don't think we ever seen anything quite like it in one of our intern's projects. Usually they all want to study the Big Five—Amortentia, Wolfsbane, Polyjuice, Draught of Living Death, and Felix Felicis. Those are the potions that fascinate and draw people to our field. Speaking of—Harry, has Mr. Lestrange approached you about the information he needs? I told him you were a good source for that sort of data, and I know how keen you are to see the potion improved."

Harry felt slightly sick all of a sudden, and it had nothing to do with the delicious bowl of soup she was eating. Hurst had sent Lestrange her way asking for data on werewolves? What would the Master think if he found out she'd snubbed the older boy—a fellow potioneer no matter how inflammatory his speech—simply because she was jealous?

She was saved from answering immediately by James, who said, "Lestrange?" with a polite frown on his face, "What information could Harry provide to one of them?"

"The Lestrange Heir is a fellow intern," Harry told her father, ignoring the mildly surprised look on Master Hurst's face as he realized she hadn't filled her parents in on much of what she'd been doing at the Guild, "He's studying Wolfsbane, and asked if I could get a few statistics from Uncle Remus for his research." Harry silently vowed that she would get the information from Remus and give it to Lestrange on Monday. As the sick feeling she got at possibly disappointing the Aldermaster, to whom she owed her internship, began to fade, another feeling welled up in its place.

Shame thickened the back of her throat as she took a hard look at what she'd actually done by brushing off a fellow potioneer's request. She couldn't believe she'd been so petty. Lestrange was a researcher, for all that he was obnoxious. What if he did make a breakthrough? Remus would be the one to benefit. As a researcher, and as Remus' friend, she couldn't, in good conscience, stand in the way of that.

"Is he likely to make any new finds?" Lily asked, interested, "We've heard rumors around the office that there's a new breakthrough in Wolfsbane about to be published."

"That'll be Master Snape," Hurst beamed widely, "Brilliant man. I can't tell you the details of his work, though—he's devilishly tight-lipped about his research."

Lily and James both looked uncomfortable at the mention of Professor Snape, but when Lily hesitated too long in responding, Leo continued the conversation smoothly.

"Lestrange may still make some progress," he pointed out, "Wolfsbane is such a complicated brew, we need as many minds as possible working on it. What's the third intern researching, Harry?"

"Renaldo Casillas?" Harry frowned, "I'm not sure. His mentor specializes in Healing potions, so perhaps something in that field."

"I think it was the Draught of Peace," Master Hurst said, "Something about trying to make it more susceptible to preserving charms."

Harry privately thought that the Draught of Peace didn't need to be preserved for long periods of time, because it wasn't an emergency-use potion like a Blood Replenisher; you could brew it in twenty-five minutes if you really wanted to, and if you needed to feel peaceful right away, you could just take a Calming Draught.

Still, she murmured something that sounded interested, to be polite. She supposed there was always room for improvement, even if there were other potions in the field that needed it more.

The conversation moved on, and it was surprisingly lively. Lily's conviviality, Master Hursts' engaging banter, James' sense of boyish humor, Leo's good-natured charm, and Mrs. Hurst's calm amusement all blended extremely well together over the mouth-watering smells of dinner and the many things they all had in common despite the variety of their professions and interests.

Harry found herself relaxing into the warm atmosphere, and was somewhat taken by surprise when James eyed Leo, not unkindly, and said, "So where did you kids meet, again?"

Harry's mind blanked, before she remembered what she'd told James all those months ago, "Tate's apothecary. We're both in there so often, we were bound to meet eventually."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Leo's lips slowly stretch into a sly smirk, "You make it sound so dull, but as I recall it our first meeting was anything but!"

Harry's eye twitched, but she pasted a relaxed smile on her face, and said, "I doubt our parents would be interested in all the details." She had no idea where he was going with this, but she could guess it wasn't going to be good.

"Nonsense," James grinned, perhaps sensing that Harry didn't want him to press—he had a knack for knowing when people were most prone to being embarrassed about something. It was what made him such a good prankster. He leaned forward with an anticipatory twinkle in his eye, "We're all ears."

"The first time I met Harry, she was eight years old," Leo began, ignoring the raised eyebrows from their parents. Harry wondered how he was possibly going to invent a believable story about her when she was eight, but resigned herself to simply listening. "Harry was a tiny little thing back then, all long, floaty hair and big, green eyes. I walked into Tate's shop, just there to check on an order for my dad, and almost tripped over little Harry on my way to the counter. She looked up at me with the most serious expression I'd ever seen, and this little line of irritation between her brows, as though I should know better than to be so tall."

"That's Harry!" James exclaimed, clearly delighted, "I was always tripping over her around the house at that age—she'd just plop down on the floor somewhere with a book, and give you exactly that expression if you loomed over her accidentally."

Leo smiled, "She was rather adorable, though at the time I couldn't fathom what she was doing in the apothecary."

"She used to sneak out whenever we forgot to ward the floo," Lily said ruefully, "She was so quiet we didn't even notice she'd gone until an hour later when she'd show up, cool as you please, with a bag of potion ingredients."

"I always had my emergency portkey necklace," Harry said, stirring her peas, "It's not as though I was in any danger on Diagon." She had no idea how Leo knew what she'd looked like when she was younger, but maybe he'd asked around in preparation for just this kind of questioning.

"Go on with the story, Leo," Mrs. Hurst said, smiling, "I want to hear the rest."

Leo leaned forward slightly, lending his tale an earnest quality as he said, "So I stop short of running into Harry, and I look up to see a middle-aged woman with dark, curly hair at the counter in front of us both. I assumed she was Harry's mother, until I saw the basket Harry was carrying. It's full to bursting with ingredients, probably dead heavy, and when Harry stops frowning at me for nearly colliding with her, she goes back to scowling at the lady talking to Tate at the counter, tapping her little foot impatiently, her arms nearly shaking with the effort of holding up her basket."

Master Hurst chuckled as the image Leo painted, and Harry severely hoped her 'adorable impatience' was the extent of the story. Then Leo started talking again.

"I realize pretty quickly that the lady at the counter isn't talking with Tate—she's arguing with him. Waving her hands and gesturing at a pink-tinged potion on the counter between them. 'I'm telling you I did it right,' the lady says, 'it's your ingredients that are the problem.' They argue for a few minutes more, until finally Harry just snaps," Leo smiled in what seemed to be fond remembrance, "She sets down her basket with a little huff, walks up behind the lady, and pokes her on the hip until the lady looks down and goes, 'what, kid?' I could tell by Harry's expression that she did not like being called a kid, but her voice is all polite and sweet when she says, 'Mr. Tate doesn't sell bad ingredients. Are you sure your recipe isn't wrong?'"

"She didn't," Lily groaned into her hands, "Harry, what were you thinking, getting in the middle of an adult conversation like that?"

Harry shrugged, but inside she knew exactly what she had been thinking—she remembered that day, when the rude lady in the blue pencil skirt almost made her late getting home for lunch. She remembered everything Leo was describing—but how did he know about that? Had he really been there, that day? She vaguely remembered someone being in line behind her. Maybe it had been a young teenager of Leo's coloring, but she wasn't sure. She was sure Leo didn't invent the tale out of thin air, however.

"The lady looks down her nose at Harry," Leo went on, "All puffed up indignation, and says, 'I paid top-galleon for this recipe, and the result looks just like Venus Juice ought to. There's nothing wrong with it except the potency of the ingredients.' Mr. Tate is blushing at this point, and I'm a bit embarrassed myself that this lady is talking openly about trying to brew such a strong lust potion, but Harry picks up the potion from the counter and holds it up to the light like a little expert. She puts it back down and says, 'the consistency is off for Venus Juice, actually. I can't smell the rose oil, either. Only the color is right.'"

Leo paused to take a sip of water, and James took the pause to ask, slightly horrified, "How did you know so much about lust potions at that age?"

"The Guild did a special issue on them that year," Harry said.

"We didn't buy you a subscription to their journals until you were ten," Lily said weakly.

Harry fingered her bangs uncomfortably, "I bought them in Diagon whenever I was there."

"Whenever you snuck out, you mean," Lily sighed, "We must have changed the password on the floo connection twice a month."

"Dad left the passwords in his sock drawer," Harry pointed out.

James choked, "The sock drawer was warded, too!"

"Not as well as the floo," Harry said, smiling at the flummoxed look on his face.

"Wait, what happened with the lady's potion?" Master Hurst protested.

Leo smirked, "Oh, it gets better. The lady gapes for a moment, then digs around in her robes until she comes up with this wrinkled roll of parchment. She unrolls it, then holds it toward Tate so he can take a look, to see if Harry is right about the recipe being wrong. Harry snatches the scroll before Tate even gets a glimpse. She looks over the recipe, which is all gilded and embossed like an invitation to some grand party, and clucks her little tongue disapprovingly. 'This is a recipe for a mild cough suppressant,' Harry says, 'Has your throat been dry since taking it?' The woman splutters and says, 'but it's pink!' Harry just looks up at her like she can't believe anyone so stupid could have learned to breathe air, and says, 'lots of things are pink. That doesn't automatically make it a love potion. There are pomegranate seeds in it.'"

Everyone had a good laugh at that, though Harry didn't see what was so funny. It was ridiculous to think a potion was a lust inducer just because it happened to be pink.

"The lady looks like she had no idea what to say to that, but Harry isn't finished yet," Leo smirked at her as he said, "Harry nods her head real seriously, saying, 'you really shouldn't trust a recipe unless its been reviewed by a potioneer first. Especially lust potions.' The lady's face goes all red, cause now she's embarrassed, being lectured about lust potions by a little girl. Harry doesn't even notice, just says, helpful as you please, 'the Potions Guild put a warning out in its last news letter about this kind of thing. A lot of people are selling fake recipes for lust potions, and they get away with it because people get placebo effects from drinking the potion, and think their increased lust is because of what they drank, when really they just expect to be lustful, so they are. It's lucky you've got a good mental handle on your bodily reactions, or you might never have noticed.'" Leo laughed a bit himself, then said, "The lady looked ready to crawl into a hole at that point, but Harry still wasn't finished."

"Poor woman," Mrs. Hurst murmured, smiling nonetheless.

"Harry says, 'if you want a real lust potion, try the bookstore. There's a perfectly good one in Potions of the Mind, but I expect it will be a bit harder to brew than this cough syrup was. Make sure you read the legal warning, too,' Harry adds, gazing seriously up at this poor woman, 'it's fine if you take it yourself, but you should know it's illegal to administer one to someone else, even if they're a willing partner. They have to take it themselves.' The woman just walked out of the shop," Leo said, grinning, "Not even taking the pink potion with her, and Harry shrugs, picks up her basket, and starts unloading it onto the counter—which she can barely reach—like nothing happened."

Everyone dissolved into laughter, except Harry, who was busy wondering how Leo recited all that with such alarming accuracy, and Leo himself, who took the moment everyone was shaking their heads and exclaiming over Harry's precociousness to give Harry a slow wink with one bright, hazel eye.

"I can't believe you were such a sharp-tongued youngling, Harry," Mrs. Hurst said eventually, "You're so soft-spoken, now."

"She was back then, too," Lily sighed, "Except when it came to potions."

James nodded, "She's always been unnaturally serious about the subject. At first we thought it was a laugh—she'd get a hold of Remus' prank recipes for our Marauder line and brew a few now and then. After a while, though, we realized she was in earnest about it. Still takes me aback, sometimes, how much energy she devotes to the subject."

Harry privately wondered if James omitted the part where he'd actively discouraged her from studying potions on purpose, because Master Hurst was there, or if he'd really forgotten how unsupportive he'd been when she was younger. She hadn't snuck out so often to Diagon because she liked the adventure—it wasn't until she was ten that her parents actually started sanctioning the trips, even setting up her school account a year early so she wouldn't use all her chore money on ingredients.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly, and her parents flooed back to Godric's Hollow well-fed and amiable to repeating the experience, though Lily mentioned they'd do it at Potter Place next time.

Harry lingered, wanting a word with Leo, and the Hursts magnanimously gave them the room while they began clearing away the dessert plates.

"Were you really there that day?" Harry asked Leo, "I don't remember."

"I was," Leo looked at her with a soft fondness that brought warmth to his bright eyes, "I didn't realize it was you until much later, of course. Only after I found out you were both a girl and Krait's brewer did I begin to suspect. The age fit, and your coloring, of course. I asked Tate the other day, just to be sure. I thought it would make a convincing anecdote for dinner, and if you father believes I still think of you as a little kid, maybe he won't glare at me whenever he remembers I'm male."

Harry winced, though she wasn't sure if it was at James' assumptions or at Leo's insinuation that he had to pretend to think of her as a child because he didn't.

She realized just then how close he stood to her, so close she could see exactly how the skin at the corner of his mouth twitched as he suppressed a smile, and was abruptly too embarrassed to look up into his eyes again. She huffed a soft cough, and took a few steps backward toward the floo, "Thanks for inviting us, Leo. Dinner was wonderful."

"You're welcome here anytime," Leo said, not seeming bothered by her abrupt retreat, "Floo safely. I'll see you Monday for practice."

Harry nodded, gave an awkward wave, and flooed home as fast as she could without choking on soot.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

On Monday morning, Harry wheedled Master Thompson until he told her which lab Lestrange was using for his research. After ascertaining that she wasn't planning to sabotage his work (and receiving a rather offended look for even suggesting such a thing), he directed her to lab eight.

Harry hovered outside of the door for a long moment to mentally brace herself for the unpleasant chore she was about to undertake. Do it for potioneers everywhere, she told herself wryly, before knocking three times.

It took a good minute for the door to open, but when Harry glanced behind Lestrange's impatient expression she caught sight of a brewing cauldron, so she couldn't be too annoyed.

"What?" Lestrange snapped, "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit busy,"

"Brewing Aconite Alleviation?" Harry asked, sniffing curiously.

"Mind your own business," Lestrange said, making to shut the door.

"Wait," Harry thrust the rolled-up parchments of information she carried at Lestrange's torso, "Here."

Lestrange actually took a step back to stop her hand coming into contact with his clothes before deigning to inspect the parchment. Only after ostentatiously checking it for halfblood cooties did he pinch it gingerly between his fingers and unroll it with a resigned expression on his face, "Is it from Master—" He stopped, and began skimming through the information at a ferocious speed.

"Sorry it took so long," Harry said, slightly sincere, "I had to ask Remus whether he felt comfortable revealing personal information to a stranger." Lestrange stared at her, something unreadable burning behind his eyes. Harry went on blithely, "I told him you were a professional, and would of course treat his information as respectfully as a Healer treats the data he gathers on his patients."

"This is very detailed," Lestrange said, openly suspicious, "I didn't ask you for half of this."

Harry affected a sheepish expression that Rispah had claimed dangerously guileless, and said, "I'm afraid I interrupted you before you told me everything you wanted, so I just included everything Remus and I thought you might need. If there's anything else, just let me know."

Far from looking grateful, Lestrange scowled at her, "What is this? I suppose Renaldo put you up to this, and after I base all of my experimental data on this information I'll find out it's fake."

Harry suppressed an eye roll with the force of long habit, "Look at the watermark on the paper—it's the same parchment the Guild requires for recording experimental results, so you can't write data that's been knowingly falsified on it."

"Why are you doing this?" Lestrange burst out, frustrated. Harry peered at his face, which she usually avoided looking at too carefully due to its permanently unpleasant expression. His skin was waxy and his eyes bloodshot. His fingers trembled slightly where they clutched the parchment, and Harry didn't think it was from frustration or rage. He looked exhausted.

"We're on the same side," Harry said slowly, "If you make progress on the Wolfsbane potion, Remus and hundreds of other werewolves will be the ones to benefit. If no one researches it, they'll be the ones to suffer."

"I find your sentimentality disgustingly naïve," Lestrange sneered, "Of course we're not on the same side. We're competitors."

"We're potioneers," Harry corrected. She wondered how she could explain it in terms that Lestrange would appreciate, or at least understand. "You've heard of Menesthes and Zosimo, right?"

"Of course," Lestrange sneered, glancing back at his potion with exaggerated impatience, as if Harry couldn't tell he'd used a temporary stasis charm on it, and could therefore afford at least an hour talking to her before the potion became unstable, "What's your point?"

"Only petty people refuse to cooperate with one another because of personal grudges," Harry said flatly, "Didn't you think, when you first heard the story of Menesthes and Zosimos, how incredibly stupid they both were? Their useless rivalry set the invention of the Smallpox Suppressant back nearly forty years. When their apprentices collaborated and published their private notes, and people realized that each Master alone had enough information that together they could have perfected the recipe, it was a mark of shame on all potioneers."

"It's a bit premature to compare yourself to Zosimos, don't you think?" Lestrange drawled, glancing over her head with affected disinterest.

"Probably," Harry agreed, "But my point is that I'm not going to fight with you. Not about potions. You can be in an imaginary competition if you want, but I care more about advancing the field of potions than I ever will about beating you, so if you need anything else for your research, just ask."

Lestrange looked like he had no idea what to make of that. His mouth twisted several times before he clenched his fist around the roll of parchment he still held and bit out, "You're still a halfblood."

"And you're still a jerk," Harry said, "Good afternoon, Lestrange."

She turned and walked away, only allowing herself a tiny smile of satisfaction at the huff she heard before the door slammed at her back.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

The hours she spent at the Dancing Phoenix learning rough and tumble self-defense with Leo compounded heavily with the training she went through in the evening with Remus, but the intensity of her physical routine over the next couple of weeks was nothing compared with the rigor of her mental exertions. Every day she poured over various combinations of imbued magic and brewed ingredients. She and Master Thompson toyed with different ideas for imbued spells—imbued glamours, as an alternative to Polyjuice, was one that Thompson was particularly interested in seeing perfected, while Harry was more interested in imbued protective charms, herself.

Thompson was very helpful as a practical soundboard. He gave advice on which kinds of imbued magic would be favorably received commercially, as well as which would be fascinating academically, and he was invaluable in helping Harry work and rework the base recipe for the potion she wanted to imbue, but theoretically, he was lost.

He grumbled about not understanding what she was talking about half the time she tried to explain the imbuing process, and eventually started muttering that he'd have to find a Potions Master who was better at wandless magic to help work through the theory. Thinking of Masters who were adept at wandless magic only made her think of Professor Snape, and the pressing problem of her aura. What if he appeared at the student showcase during the Guild's Open House? Her complete lack of aura would be suspiciously familiar to him. How easily could he connect Rigel Black to Harry Potter, if he was given even a hint in that direction?

She needed to learn how to fake an aura, but she had no idea how to go about doing so. The book on auras she'd borrowed from the Weasley twins contained some information on aura manipulation, but it required having an aura to manipulate to start with. Nothing she'd found in the Potter and Black Libraries was very helpful, and she was beginning to despair of finding a solution when the answer quite literally landed in her lap.

"Ow," Harry said unconvincingly, looking down at the heavy tomb that had just been plopped atop her crossed legs.

"You haven't anything down there to be injured," Leo reminded her, dropping down beside her in the dirt of the Phoenix's courtyard.

"As far as you know, anyway," Harry said archly, examining the cover. There was no title or author, just an etching of a mirror, draped with a translucent cloth covering.

"You've been spending too much time about Alec and Marek," Leo complained, "You never used to banter so crudely."

"You're the one I spend the most time with around here," Harry pointed out, "If anyone's to blame for my expanding range of humor, it's your bad influence."

"I liked you better when you were withdrawn and uncertain," Leo complained.

"No you didn't," Harry said distractedly, now flipping through the table of contents, "'Glamour and Glimmer'…'What's in a Name?' What is this book, Leo?"

Leo reached over and leafed through the pages until he found the dedication. It read:

To anyone for whom becoming another is the only way to be oneself.

"It's a book on disguises," Leo said, smiling into her cautious expression, "I picked it up from a guy who owed me a favor. It's a bit Dark, but there's loads of useful little spells in there. I know your birthday isn't for a few more weeks, but I thought you ought to have time to learn the spells you like before going back to school. There's one in there to make a girl's voice sound more masculine, for instance."

"Why…" Harry couldn't finish the question properly, but Leo understood.

"It's to help you keep your secrets," he said.

"You don't approve of my secrets," Harry said, frowning down at the book.

Leo plucked at her chin, raising her eyes to his bright hazel ones, "I want you to be safe. I think your secrets are dangerous, but if you can't give them up, then I want to help you keep them safely."

Harry bit her lip to keep from doing something ridiculous like trembling with the gratitude coursing through her, "Thank you, Leo. This is…thank you."

He probably had no idea what his gift might mean for her, but Harry had caught a glimpse of the possibilities it stored as she glanced through the table of contents. One heading in particular made her itch to get home so she could read it: Building the Aura: Suppression, Projection, and Re-Construction.

It was hard not to grin a bit predatorily as she tucked the book into her potions bag, but Rispah's lessons in facial control hadn't been for nothing.

-0—0-0

-0-0

-0

[end of chapter four].

A/N: Next chapter will be the last of the summer chapters, I swear. All the best. -V