Chapter XVIII: Return to Sender
"Welcome first years," McGonagall intoned as Harry entered her classroom. "Today's class will be a little different to begin with. You have all no doubt heard that professor Lockhart is founding a duelling club, and that he has seen fit to invite first years to participate?"
The class nodded as they took their seats. That news had made the rounds within hours of the notice being posted.
"Good. Now you all remember, of course, the first rule of practising transfiguration, which is…?"
"No human transfiguration," the class recited. That had been drilled into them harder than anything else.
"Correct. I would like to trust that this means none of you will attempt such a spell, however this is by far not the only magic you are expected to know not to cast at your fellow students, be it in a duel or otherwise. As such, I have organised, along with professor Flitwick, a short exam to be taken by all students, of all years, to ensure that no-one has somehow gotten the wrong idea about what is acceptable."
Most of the room groaned at the news, but not Harry. Hermione had impressed upon him that tests were only a bad thing if you expected to do poorly on them, and with her as a regular study partner he was confident enough in his abilities. His poor grades in the past had been an effort to never outshine precious Dudley, and now that he was off that leash he found his academic mind had not atrophied half as much as he feared. That he was learning magic helped his commitment.
"I have also taken the opportunity to include several more general questions on transfiguration principles, as next term we will be moving onto a far more practical run of lessons and I prefer my classroom to remain in an unexploded state."
The scorch marks on most of the desks, several of the walls, and one of the beams of the high vaulted ceiling stood testament to her statement not being a joke. Harry gulped at the idea of his magic causing an explosion that large, right in front of his face no less, but his magical-raised peers merely chuckled.
McGonagall passed out the test: Two sheets of parchment, including space for writing answers. Mercifully short.
"Do not confer with your fellow students. Short, succinct answers are acceptable. You have ten minutes. You may begin."
Harry inked his quill as he read the first question.
'Summarise the five exceptions to Gamp's Law.'
Easy. Hermione had me memorise the whole thing. Gamp's Law stated that matter may be either conjured or transfigured with equal simplicity. Transfiguration required less power than conjuration, but the complexity and result of the spell was the same. With exceptions, which Harry wrote as…
1: Food from nothing has no nutrition.
2: No making gas from solids or liquids.
5: Radioactives can only be made from other radioactives.
Harry's mind lumped those three together because, though they hadn't covered it in class, Hermione assured him they were consequences of the same 'fundamental principle': Breaking apart a transfiguration would break the magic holding it in shape as well.
Food would revert as it digested, if not when chewed. Conjured food would simply disappear harmlessly; transfigured food had far worse consequences if you were fool enough to make it from something non-edible. Turning beef into ham, for example, was fine; you'd taste ham and digest beef. Turning a glass into a ham would slice your mouth to ribbons, or your insides if you forgot to chew.
Gasses would fly apart instantly by their very nature, shattering the magic before the spell could even complete - often explosively so. That was the cause of many of the marks on the classroom walls. Radioactive materials were similarly self-destructive in their nature, but for whatever reason trying to transfigure them would only result in an inert version of the material, and hence no explosion.
3: Permanent transfiguration requires equal starting mass.
Hermione reckoned that was a power problem; maintaining something from nothing was a constant magical drain, which obviously wouldn't be permanent however long you could hold it. She admitted to not being sure of that, as the books on it were above her level, but her idea made sense to Harry.
4: Precious metals can't be permanently transfigured.
This was the one that baffled Harry and Hermione alike. She had given him an introductory lesson on chemistry, explaining the periodic table and what matter actually was (which seemed like the sort of thing they should be teaching in a school where the first lesson was turning wood into metal). The fourth exception flew in the face of all that. You couldn't make gold from lead, but you could get iron or nickel or titanium, no problem. And no book in the whole of Hogwarts' library cared to explain why.
Harry broke from his thoughts as he remembered he had a whole test to do, and the hows and whys wouldn't earn him any marks.
The rest of the questions were, frankly, even easier, running mostly along the lines of 'how could this spell hurt someone?' For the sort of jinx and hex a first year might be expected to cast, the answer was usually a combination of 'they could bang their head falling over' and 'the caster could screw up their spell and set something on fire'. The exam did serve its purpose though; by the end, Harry was having second thoughts about what spells he could bring to a duel, and indeed whether he should step up at all.
Duelling club convened the following Saturday. Due to popular demand it had been split into three: First through third years; fourth and fifth; and the post-OWLers. The younger years had the dubious honour of the first session, before lunch.
"Pssst, Hermione," Ron whispered in her ear. To whichever Gods she had angered that they saw fit to have the crowd force her away from Harry and wind up next to Ronald Weasley, she was utterly repentant, if they'd only tell her what she'd done to deserve it. The only saving grace was that it meant she hadn't blundered into a pack of Slytherins.
She thought about ignoring him, but Weasleys weren't the sort to take the hint, so for all that she recognised the lure, she bit. "What?"
"What's the words for the knockback jinx again? I asked Seamus but he keeps saying it's knockus backus and I don't think that's right."
Hermione took a long breath. Be civil, he's not doing anything wrong, it isn't his fault his brain fell out when he was born, be civil.
"It's flipendo, Ron. But if you don't know it well enough to remember the incantation I strongly suggest you don't try to cast it in a duel."
"What, you think I'd hurt myself?"
Yes, I expect you would. But it's not you I'm worried about.
"Better not to find out, hmm?"
"Yeah, probably," he mumbled, in a rare display of common sense. Or, as Hermione was taking to calling it, muggle sense. Wizards on the whole didn't exhibit enough to call it common.
Thankfully she was spared from enduring the joys of his company any longer as the crowd started shuffling forward. In the crush, Hermione had to focus on her footing and let herself be carried in the right direction. She didn't like the experience one bit; it made her feel like a sheep. Hermione Granger refused to be a sheep.
When the wave spat her out through a doorway she stumbled, but found herself being caught and hoisted upright by helping hands.
"Uh, thanks," she said bashfully.
"Watch who you're falling on, Granger," Crabbe grunted.
"Yeah, shove it mudblood," Goyle agreed.
Hermione found their hands shoving her harshly off to one side, and she almost fell again. Of all the people to trip into. When she regained her balance, she was completely disoriented. The door she had come through would be on her left… or was it now in front of her? She was facing the wrong way for certain, and supposed she looked rather stupid doing so.
Surreptitiously she drew her wand, conjured an image of professor Lockhart in her mind (although image was the wrong word - she was concentrating on the irritatingly smooth tinkle of his voice; the overpowering scent of cologne; the memory of his arm, clad in expensive silk and wrapped about her shoulder), and whispered "point me." Her wand tugged her hand around to the right and she dutifully followed it as it oriented towards the man leading the show.
He started talking a moment later, at which point Hermione realised she could have just waited and followed the sound of his voice. Oh well.
"Welcome, welcome all! So good to see such a turnout! Yes, welcome to the Gilderoy Lockhart Duelling Association!"
Lockhart stopped to milk the polite spattering of applause, which Hermione naturally did not join.
"Thank you all for coming, and a big thank you to professor Snape for volunteering to help out."
"Someone had to ensure no-one is injured," Snape drawled.
"Yes, yes, thank you ever so much. Now, to start with we're going to be practising the disarming charm, so pair off everyone."
"Mr Lockhart," Snape interjected, "whilst your faith in your students is astounding, is it not likely that many of them do not know the disarming charm? Perhaps a demonstration is in order?"
The dungeon bat sounded all too pleased to be offering his assistance, which put Hermione on edge; A happy Snape was always bad news for someone else.
"Oh, what an excellent idea! Quite brilliant. Let us take our positions, then?"
"If you are certain."
The room was deathly quiet save for two pairs of footsteps as the teachers stepped up onto the piste. Hermione had been fortunate enough never to attend a funeral, but the atmosphere was unmistakeable even so - Lockhart was about to be taken apart and everyone but him knew it. Sure, Snape had only agreed to demonstrate a disarming charm but if anyone could find a way to make that lethal, it would be him.
"It is important," Lockhart lectured, "to observe proper etiquette when duelling. Duellists are to bow to each other before each bout, then raise wands. Once both wands are raised, either may begin the duel by casting. So, we bow… Very good, raise wands, and-"
"Expelliarmus!"
Hermione wished she could have seen the fop get what was coming to him, but she had to settle for a girlish yelp and a heavy crash, and imagine the rest from there. It was still satisfying, even if she suffered a moment's revulsion at the thought that she was technically rooting for Snape.
Lockhart whimpered briefly, then tried to hide the sound with a 'manly' groan.
"Very good demonstration there," he coughed, "of what a powerful expelliarmus can do. Of course, I could easily have stopped you, but I thought it better to show the children the charm in its entirety. Now you've all seen how the spell goes, why don't we get to practising it, yes? Don't worry though chaps, I'm sure none of you will be able to quite so much power into it as your professor here."
The room exploded into the noise of fifty odd children trying to find an acceptable partner. Hermione simply stood and let the chaos pass her by. She knew the drill by now; even before Hogwarts, before losing her sight, she was the last to be picked. She was the one the teacher had to assign a partner to, or work with when the numbers weren't even. Frustrating as it was, she was ready for it, so it didn't affect her. Much. Shouldn't affect her so much.
"Hello there. Hermione, isn't it?"
"Er, yes?" she answered the unfamiliar voice.
"Justin Finch Fletchley, at your service." he introduced himself. The expectant pause prompted Hermione to offer a hand, which he quickly and firmly shook before continuing, "I believe we were introduced in herbology, but I don't suppose you remember me. Would you care to partner with me for this exercise?"
The name was familiar, but if they had met it must have been brief. Shared herbology put him in Hufflepuff.
"Sure, but… Why? I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm persona non grata right now."
Justin gave a single barking laugh at that, then said, "truthfully, that is precisely why."
"You'll have to explain that one to me," Hermione admitted, not seeing his logic at all.
"Well, it's simple really. Either you're not the heir, in which case it's terribly cruel how everyone is treating you and would be most unbecoming of me to join in…" - Hermione couldn't help her wry smile at the boy's language, wondering if he was bound for Eton before he got his Hogwarts letter - "or you are the heir, and the safest people in the castle are the ones being nice to you."
Considering his words carefully, Hermione came to the conclusion that the boy was smarter than his years, and far more logical than his peers. In fact, he was so logical that…
"You're muggleborn aren't you?"
"Guilty as charged," he replied. "How could you tell? That's not something I advertise."
Now wasn't that a good idea, far too late to implement? She probably could have blagged a distant relation to the Dagworth-Grangers, even, but alas.
"Your reason for speaking to me was so pragmatic…" she explained, "I don't think most wizards even know what that word means." - She elicited another bark with that comment - "Although, I don't think you're supposed to admit to being friendly for selfish reasons."
"Perhaps not," he mused, "but father says the strongest alliances are built on honesty, rare as that is."
The way he said 'father' was disturbingly reminiscent of Malfoy; his whole demeanour was actually, except that Hermione didn't feel belittled. Sure, he had an ulterior motive for befriending - or was it allying with? - her, but he'd been upfront with it. More importantly, he'd said 'if' she was the heir, and in a school near-fanatically convinced she was the devil incarnate, she'd take an agnostic any day.
"Well then, Justin, allies it is. And for the record, I am not the heir."
"But of course the real heir would say the same thing," Justin said, finishing her own thought for her. He hadn't said it accusingly either; it was simply a truth being stated.
"But of course," she agreed, conceding the point. "Well then, shall we get to hexing each other?"
"I believe expelliarmus is a charm," he corrected.
Hermione knew that, obviously, she'd simply used 'hex' because the word charm used as a verb had its own connotations. She was about to defend her language choices when she realised that would be swotty. Come to think of it, his correcting her was exactly the sort of behaviour that had seen her labelled a swot. Which meant Justin was a well-spoken, logical, muggleborn 'swot'; suddenly Hermione was wondering how on earth they had taken this long to make acquaintance.
"Care to demonstrate it then, Mr Finch-Fletchley?" she challenged, raising her wand with the curtest of head dips serving as a bow.
Had she been told a week ago she'd be voluntarily losing her wand to a Hufflepuff, she'd have called in the mind healers, but Justin seemed safe enough. She tried not to dwell on how much of her sense of ease was down to his being a muggleborn, and whether that made her some kind of racist. Some of my best friends are purebloods, she thought to herself sardonically.
Harry pressed himself against the wall at the edge of the room, waiting for a gap to open in the milling crowd. Really, what he wanted was to slide over to the door and make an escape, but he had told Hermione he would be here and so here he would stay. With the need to partner up, she'd be expecting him to come through for her, so he had to find her amongst the chaos. Just as soon as a gap opens up… No, a bigger gap than that… Maybe once less people are moving about so much.
Finally he saw a space he couldn't well talk himself out of, and made his move. He spotted his friend's bushy mane over on the other side of the room. Typical luck, that she'd be all the way over there, but he was committed now and so he weaved through the masses like they were bludgers on the practice field; nimbly, and avoiding contact at all a costs.
When he reached Hermione, he stopped in his tracks. She was talking to a Hufflepuff boy he didn't know. Whilst he was getting over the surprise of that, the two raised wands. Harry quickly stifled his impulsive protectiveness as the boy tried, unsuccessfully, to cast a disarming charm. Hermione was fine without his help. Hermione was fine without him. And why, if only for a moment, did that thought rankle him?
He didn't go over and speak to them; that would have been awkward. Instead he cast about for someone else to partner with, noting that because of his earlier hesitation he had missed most of his chances. Ginny was squared off against Selina; Geofric faced Emmeline; the Weasley twins were practically juggling wands between each other already.
The only person he recognised without a partner was their brother from the year above him. Ronald, wasn't it? He felt he really should be more sure of the boy's name, being friends with three of his siblings, but then the only time they talked about him was to complain, and they rarely used his proper name for that. Seeing no other recourse, he walked over to 'Ronniekins' and put on his best approachable smile.
"Hey, Ronald," he greeted him, folding his arms behind his back to make it clear there would be no shaking of hands.
"Oh, hey Harry," Ronald chirped, looking oddly happy to see a near-stranger. Maybe he's just desperate for a partner too. "No one snapped up the Boy-Who-Lived for a partner yet?"
How he hated that moniker. It carried with it everything he didn't want - attention, undue praise, and a reminder of the death of his parents.
"Nope. Hermione's found someone already, so… fancy helping me out?" Harry asked, resolving to talk about appropriate names some other time. Or never - if Hermione's opinion of the boy proved well-founded they wouldn't be getting close. He hadn't missed the downturn of the boy's mouth at the mention of his friend
"Uh, sure. Yeah, I mean, yeah sure I can. Don't worry mate, I'll show you how it's done… Soon as I've figured it out myself, course."
"Brilliant. You want to go first?" Harry offered, figuring that made more sense.
"Alright. Let's see… down swish, swirly swirl," he muttered, talking himself through the motions as he repeated them several times, "and expellermus!"
His wand fizzled gently, then a jet of magic burst out. In the few feet between his wandpoint and Harry, it dissipated to the extent it barely rustled Harry's hair as it washed over him. His wand remained firmly in his grip. Ron looked at him glumly and shrugged.
"Why don't you have a go?" he suggested.
"OK, sure," Harry accepted.
Down swish and swirl, incantation expelliarmus, and push with the magic like always. Here goes…
"Expelliarmus!" he cast. He felt the power pouring into his wand, but then it felt like it had nowhere to go. His own wand jumped out of his hand; only his seeker training let him snatch it out the air before it hit the floor.
Ron smirked and readied his own wand again. Harry didn't pay him much attention as he focused on his own performance. He'd obviously made a mistake, but where? The down swish was simple enough, the swirl was… OK, the swirl could have been tighter, like Hermione's when she was learning from Patricia, but then Snape's had been a big theatrical thing and that worked just fine. The incantation was correct, he was sure of that. The problem had been when the magic went to leave, it had bottled up and blown the wand away.
No, it disarmed the wand.
Was that it, he wondered. Had he somehow cast the charm on his own wand, rather than Ron's. If so, all he had to do was make it go to the right target… Which sounded like something easier said than done. Still, as Ron's attempt ended in pink sparks (at least he got the incantation right this time), Harry raised his wand to try exactly that.
This time he fixed his eyes on Ron's wand. He pictured what he wanted to happen - that was advice from transfiguration lessons, but Harry found it just as applicable to charms - and cast. As he swirled he noted the similarity to spinning a wet cloth around, like trying to flick off the water. Like flicking off the spell.
A jet of light leapt from his wand, but at an extreme angle to where he was pointing. It raced across the room and struck a Ravenclaw girl in the back.
She dropped her wand and stumbled forward.
"Excellent, Harry, very good," Lockhart appraised, seeming to appear from nowhere at his side. "Just work on the aim and you'll be duelling dark wizards in no time."
Lockhart smiled like fighting dark wizards was the best thing he could imagine. Harry smiled back because casting a new spell, even as poorly as that, always made him smile. The moment was broken as a student pulled Lockhart away to beg his help, and Harry went back to practising with Ron. Ron was just about getting somewhere - Harry's wand had twitched on his latest casting - when professor Snape climbed up onto the raised piste and cleared his throat.
Say what you will about his useless teaching methods, but that man can silence a room in a heartbeat.
"As riveting as this all is, I think we came here to duel," Snape drawled, making no effort to mask his boredom. "Do I have any volunteers?"
About a third of the room, mostly third years and/or Slytherins, raised their hands. Snape perused the crowd like a raven studying a tasty corpse, then picked out two people, only one of whom had his hand raised.
"Perhaps we should see how our most academically accomplished second year handles a practical test of her knowledge," he sneered. "Miss Granger, Master Malfoy, to the piste. Now."
Hermione jumped a little when she heard her name, but she didn't bother to protest. Malfoy, the vicious git, was smirking as he took his place at one end. He no doubt expected a duel against a blind girl to be entirely in his favour, and for all his faith in his friend Harry couldn't help but agree. When Hermione stumbled stepping up onto the piste it seemed the match was already decided; if nerves were making her clumsier than normal she was in trouble.
She was probably sharing the same fear Harry was: That once the school saw proof she couldn't defend herself the bullying would step up. Harry crossed his fingers and hoped for a miracle.
"A full duel?" Lockhart asked nervously of Snape, who nodded. "Alright then, opponents will bow or curtsy to each other," Lockhart instructed.
Malfoy gave a curt bow, short enough to be considered rude - dismissive even. His stance was equally so - he faced his opponent casually, like he wasn't at all threatened. Hermione on the other hand swept into a deep curtsy - mockingly deep - which Harry noticed put her left foot well behind her right. It also gave her opportunity to clear her robes from tangling her legs, and as she rose she stopped a little short, leaving her legs bent at the knee and rising on the balls of her feet. As she lifted her wand she looked every bit a swordswoman, coiled before a strike.
"There are to be no permanently wounding spells or dark curses. The duel ends when a combatant is forced to yield. When I drop my hand, you will begin," Lockhart said, raising a hand dramatically.
"Sir," Hermione said dryly, "that is not going to work."
"Oh, yes, ever so sorry," he stammered, "then we'll start with a bang, eh?"
The professor drew his wand and twirled it in his fingers, almost dropping it in the process. The room drew a collective breath as he flourished it, then there came a loud 'CRACK'.
"Flipendo!" Malfoy cried, brandishing his wand in a sudden movement.
Hermione was already moving from her spot, dodging to her right as she cast her own spell.
"Fumos," she muttered, which caused deep red smoke to billow forth from her wand. She ducked a moment before Malfoy's rapid incendio flew above her head, then she was lost in the smoke as it consumed her half of the piste.
"Coward," Malfoy scoffed.
Hermione's flipendo bursting from her smokescreen whipped just past his head, which he jerked aside. A look of irritation took hold of his features, and he let of a string of curses.
"Incendio! Incendio! Flipendo!"
The only response from Hermione was a quiet "ventus", which blew a wisp of her smoke into his face.
"Expelliarmus!" he sputtered in a rage.
Hermione squeaked in surprise and Harry's heart dropped. Malfoy strode toward the smoke, confident in his impending victory. His face fell, and Harry whooped, when a wand emerged from that smoke, held tight and swishing upwards.
"Lumos maxima!" Hermione screamed as she charged from her cover. Brilliant light flooded the room and Malfoy howled in pain as it burned his eyes. His howl cut off with an 'oomph' as Hermione barrelled into him and the two fell to the ground. The lumos cut off, leaving Harry with vibrant light-spots in his vision, so he imagined Malfoy couldn't see at all.
Hermione rolled off her opponent and made to cast at him, but a flailing leg struck hers and she fell backward. The impact left her stunned, and with Malfoy blinded the duel fell into a tense calm.
The calm didn't last for long. Hermione whispered another fumos, starting to replenish the smoke that had been steadily drifting away. The sound of her voice seemed to snap Malfoy out of his shock at being charged, as he grinned viciously and raised his wand in her general direction, eyes shut.
"Serpensortia," he cast, and Harry was shocked to see a five foot long, jet black snake materialise from the end of his wand. There's no way that's a second year spell! The snake reared up, hissing as it bared its cruel fangs, and surged forward at Hermione who was not yet hidden by her smoke.
"No!" Harry cried out, terrified of what it would do to his friend. It wasn't as if shouting would do anything - he could hardly order the snake to stop - but something in him demanded he try anyway. "Stop! Don't bite her!"
The snake stopped. It stopped dead, then swung its head to fix its beady eyes on Harry. It wasn't the only one; not for the first time, Hermione was the only one in a room not staring at Harry Potter. Harry didn't have time for that though; he was as fixated on the snake as it was on him. There was an intelligence behind its eyes, and as he blinked slowly it mirrored him. He turned to stare at Draco, hating the boy for setting such a dangerous, beautiful creature on his best friend. The snake followed his gaze, then coiled ready to lunge. Its tongue flitted from its mouth as it hissed, and Harry knew what it was asking, though there were no words.
"Shall I strike, speaker?"
Had Harry been calmer, he would have wondered at how well he understood this snake. He'd spoken to one before, at the zoo on Dudley's birthday, but he'd thought he only imagined its replies. This was a snake communicating clear intent, following his instruction like he was its master.
Harry was not calm. Harry was not thinking in a logical manner. Harry was feeling defensive of his friend, and this time her assailant truly had sought to harm her.
"Strike, serpent," he hissed in his fury.
The snake's joy was palpable - he could taste it on his tongue, a sweetness laced with the sour tang of pooling venom - as it sprung from its coil, launching across the piste. Then professor Snape's wand was in motion and the snake vanished in mid-air, breaking Harry's connection and the focus of his rage. Without that he snapped back to reality and, surrounded by accusative glares he didn't understand the need for, suddenly found it very hard to breathe.
A/N
Hoo boy. Uploading a chapter when the next one is only half written... man have I fallen way behind, mostly thanks to a muse that refuses to let my writing flow for anything that occurs before chapter 40 or so. Want to write the grand finale? Sure! Writing the next chapter? Booooring!
Might be a couple of delayed uploads in the near future while I have some choice words with it, sorry in advance for that.
To my reviewers: Seems the main note is that Hermione needs to get all the way off Harry's back, and I couldn't agree more. Never fear: One with the power to experience character growth approaches.
Also, I got a scathing 'review' from a guy I've seen troll other people's review sections before. I didn't bother to reply last chapter because frankly he can fuck right off with his attitude, but after some thinking I do want to address the point he raised of how closely I follow canon. The premise of the story is that it starts with all players in their canon positions, save the influence of Harry's shifted birthday. The butterfly effect takes hold from there. What this means is that we start out pretty close to canon as far as major events go, and steadily diverge over time. PoA is likely to change even more as I alter the way time turners function (because time travel is a nightmare). GoF needs a goddamn rewrite even if I wanted to stay on canon - three tasks and only one of them spectator friendly? Risky plot to kidnap Harry when you can just throw a portkey at him and shout 'catch'? Methinks not.
Finally: I'll be laying down some laws on how magic works, because JKR never bothered to. Shouldn't be anything that breaks canon in a meaningful way, other than to fix glaring plot holes, like how transfiguration should make a wand a weapon of mass destruction in even semi-capable hands. I mean, just imagine the result of transfiguring a cubic metre of a city centre building into a gaseous nerve toxin... And that's only a simple, obvious way to do it.
For now I'll say that spells are more 'general purpose' than presented canonically. Pince laid a 'silencio' over the pair in the library which allowed them to converse with each other as they were both within the bubble, but you could equally use a single target 'silencio' to silence an individual from making noise altogether. The spell is the same, but tweaked. The difference between a novice wizard and a master is their ability to subtly manipulate their spellcasting like this, not just memorise more and more spells with rigorously standardised effects. I feel this makes even more sense when it is translated to wordless and wandless magics, and the mighty displays of powerhouses like Dumbledore; the connection to and use of one's magic is clearly too fluid and instinctive for a spell that specifically turns birds into water goblets to be a thing. Am I rambling? I'll stop.