Chapter 30

As the school year progressed, Pansy pulled farther and farther ahead of Harry in their practice game. The wand movements required for magic grew ever more complex, and she more quickly and consistently adapted her incorrect incantations than Harry could master the wand movements. Apparently whatever training pureblood or near-pureblood witches and wizards received prior to attending school excelled at teaching wand movements.

Harry felt a bit uncertain how he should feel about that. On the one hand, Pansy was his best friend and he had no desire to see her do poorly. But it was so frustrating, when he knew exactly what to do and how to do it, far quicker than anyone else, yet had to struggle through the long, tedious, repetitive effort of perfecting swishes and jabs and taps and flicks with his wand.

The farther into the year he got, the more he began to see the wisdom of Professor Quirrell's insistence that he use his own wand whenever possible. Increasingly he found that his spells worked more reliably with the yew wand. His own holly wand - being shorter - had a tighter movement range. This accounted for at least some of his difficulty; the longer wand was marginally more forgiving of errors in the motions, since doing things at a larger scale was always easier. Of greatest importance in magic were the relations of the movements to each other, as Blaise had mentioned in their first lesson. And a tiny wobble in a wider wand movement means much less than the exact same wobble in a tighter wand movement.

Once he realized that, Harry felt a bit better about his inability to progress as quickly as he'd have liked, and relaxed into Hogwarts routine. He joked with Pansy and mocked the Gryffindor Quidditch team, joined in the general laughter at Draco's frequent irritating of Weasley or Hermione and generally making a nuisance of himself to everyone outside Slytherin.

Draco seemed to have two completely disparate personae which he alternated between, seemingly without effort, by the simple act of stepping into or out of the Slytherin dungeon. Within, he was cool and calculating, watching and intervening by equal measure, the undisputed king of their year. Outside, he was as arrogant and seemingly unconcerned with what anyone else thought as any of the most pompous Gryffindors.

Harry found himself watching Draco carefully while in the Slytherin common room, hoping that if he observed the Malfoy heir long enough some of his actions would make more sense.

If he could just understand what to do, how to do it, maybe he could start making contacts himself, properly, like Professor Quirrell wanted. There was the quidditch gang, but though that group made Harry feel welcomed and involved, he couldn't have called any of them proper friends, couldn't bring himself to believe he could rely on any of them. They were passing acquaintances, but more and more he felt the shallowness of their unity.

It would remain so long as their shared foundation did, but that wasn't good enough. He needed friendships that weren't built on something external, that wouldn't collapse the moment the quidditch season ended.

More and more, he felt the gap between his relationship to Pansy and anyone else. She was the only one he could count on, really trust to have his back. Draco might, if he saw benefit in it. Others might, if they were in the right mood.

He felt alien, ignorant, and very much the son of a mudblood. He had to consciously swallow back the deluge of self-recrimination and remind himself of Professor Quirrell's frequent admonitions.

Heir of Slytherin. Blood purity was only one part of inheritance. His father's line was strong. He could be strong too. He would be.

As soon as he figured out how.

"What do you think that wand motion will be used for?" Pansy asked, dancing down the steps lightly. A misty rain fell, the sky gloomy and grey, but that only meant they left their books indoors. "It seems pretty advanced, I'm sure it's something really interesting."

"I'm sure we'll find out," Harry said, still a bit disgruntled at his marked failure to get the motion within specifications. And he'd thought he was making progress.

"I wish we knew now, then we could add it to practice." Pansy grinned. She generally had a marked advantage in their game the first few weeks after they learned a new spell, until Harry finally tightened his wand movements to within a reasonable margin of error.

"Yes, brilliant I'm sure."

"No need to be a poor sport about it," Pansy remarked with an evil little smile. "You can always just admit I'm better than you."

Harry huffed disdainfully. "Not likely."

"Lumonitio," she said, jabbing her wand at him.

"Nox," Harry muttered, tapping the glowing spot on his robe. "What was that for?"

"Nothing," Pansy said innocently.

"I don't know if I've mentioned it, but your 'innocent' face makes you look like an angry dog," Harry said.

"You've mentioned," Pansy said lightly. "I chose to ignore you."

"Do you think there's a spellcrafting club? Professor Haddeley perhaps?"

They reached the nearest tree in the yard, stood near the trunk to avoid the rain. Though they were quite wet already, it just felt like the thing to do.

"I'm not sure, I haven't heard about one. I don't think Theory has a club. It's not really the right type for hands-on after-class activities, is it?"

Harry considered. "No," he admitted. "The people who want to know more would probably just go to the library and study on their own."

They left the shelter of the tree and wandered out toward the lake. It was ruffled by the breeze, thick ripples lapping against the shore. Harry took a deep breath, enjoying the crisp cool of the air.

"I can't see many first years wanting to try spellcrafting yet anyway," Pansy added. "It's not easy, and we don't even know a fraction of the spells that already exist. What's the point in coming up with another light spell when there are already so many variations on lumos as it is?"

Harry stopped, turned to her with a grin. "That's it! I've been thinking of it as a charm, but it would really be a transfiguration! I'm sure there are colour-changing spells that can be adapted for use with a non-standard incantation, since Transfiguration is more about intent."

"What are you talking about now?" Pansy asked.

"That spell I told you about, the one to change the colour of Ron's rat. He tried to show me on the train, but I told him the incantation was wrong. The emphasis, you know, it isn't like talking, spells have a grammar of their own."

"Are you still on about that? Please, don't make me think about that oaf," Pansy said irritably. "I was having such a good afternoon too."

Harry frowned, glanced at his watch. "It's only 12:03."

"Well, now you've ruined it already. Aren't you proud of yourself?"

Harry shook his head, then broke off and ran a couple laps around their stand of trees. He slipped once on the rain-slick grass, falling flat to the ground while Pansy laughed at him, but jumped up and kept on running only a bit slower.

"How do you always have so much energy?" Pansy wondered aloud. "You're like an eight year old."

Harry shrugged, jogged up to fall back into step at her side. "Dunno. Just do. Want to go to the library?"

"Not particularly," Pansy said. "We'd be kicked out in an instant for dripping on the books."

"We could look up a drying charm while we're there," Harry suggested.

Pansy deadpanned.

"Oh, right."

Back in the common room once they'd changed and dried off a bit, Harry got out his notes from Potions class, but thinking about the class reminded him of the alterations he'd thought up for the yellow-rat spell.

"Your detention doesn't start until after dinner and we're not going to get kicked out, can we go up to the library now?" Harry asked, repacking his bookbag.

"Do we have to?" Pansy had just curled up beside him on the sofa. "Those chairs aren't nearly so comfortable, don't we have enough to get started on here? I want to relax before I have to go out and wrangle acromantulae in the rain."

"I doubt you'll be actually wrangling anything," Harry said. Her stories of past detentions never quite included that detail, mainly Mr. Hagrid holding the creatures down while the students did the milking. "You can stay here, I suppose. I'll be back in a half hour or so."

Pansy looked up at him, her fake-innocent look just making her look sad. "You would leave me alone?"

Harry sighed. "You are welcome to join me."

"I suppose. But you owe me."

"What do I owe you?" Harry asked warily. He'd quickly learned not to let Pansy have an inch of ambiguity or she would twist it around faster than a Gryffindor could say Quidditch.

"Not much," Pansy said, blinking up at him. "Just promise we can stop by to watch the dragon on the way back."

"That, we can do."

They did see the dragon, but only for a few minutes. Then Pansy growled as she glanced back up the stairs they'd come rushing down, torn.

"What's wrong?"

"I shouldn't have brought my bag along, I don't want it getting ruined." She smiled at him in that innocent way that did not look either innocent or attractive, but was nonetheless endearing to Harry for no other reason than that it was his friend doing it.

"Want me to take it back for you?"

She passed him the bag, gave a quick smile. "Thanks."

They walked quickly across the courtyard and grounds, toward the large hut by the pumpkin patch behind the castle. A dog started barking from inside the hut as they approached.

"I don't see Weasley," Pansy said, looking around. She smirked. "Maybe he'll be late and get another detention."

"Or maybe he got here afore you did, Parkinson."

They spun to face the huge man who had come up behind them, and saw Ron Weasley standing just behind him. The redheaded boy's smile looked slightly smug, but his face was pale as though he might be sick at any moment.

"How ya doin', Harry?" Mr. Hagrid asked cheerily. "Yeh didn't answer my owls."

"I get a lot of mail," Harry said, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. He had, in fact, received Hagrid's invitations, but had ignored them along with the many offers of alliance or favors from fellow students.

"Well, I know yer busy, but if ever yeh need someone I'm here." Mr. Hagrid smiled, and Harry felt even more uncomfortable.

"Thanks." Harry adjusted his grip on Pansy's bag, somewhat awkwardly. "Good luck, Pansy. I'll see you in the morning."

She waved, and Harry raised a hand in farewell. Mr. Hagrid waved at him as well.

Harry walked back toward the castle. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of the large man. Mr. Hagrid was always cheerful toward Harry, seemed to be trying to catch his attention from the staff table, waved any time their paths crossed.

He shrugged, decided it wasn't important. Even now that the rush of interest around him had died down, he was still famous. Still the boy-who-lived. If Mr. Hagrid was the only teacher unable to look past that fact, if he was just another obsessed fan who would insist on sending letters every week, it wasn't Harry's problem. He ignored the vast majority of his mail for a reason.

Harry returned to the Slytherin common room. A few people watched him, but most glanced up to see who it was and returned to their conversations or games without seeming to care. He started toward the girls' dorm, but an invisible force pushed against him until he slowed to a stop.

"Boys aren't allowed in here," said a girl with long black hair who was coming out. He'd seen her several times but couldn't recall her name. Then she grinned at him. "Harry, right? Pansy talks about you all the time."

"Oh?" Harry said. He wasn't sure how Pansy managed to befriend seemingly every girl in her year and still spend practically every minute of the day with him. "I'm afraid I don't recognize—"

"I'm Reiko," she said, giving him a nod of greeting. "Remember, we went hunting unicorns together?"

There had been several girls there. But Pansy had mentioned Reiko enough that Harry recognized her name, even if he didn't know her face. "Oh, yes."

"That's hers, right? I'll pop it in for her, don't worry."

"Thanks," Harry said, passing over the bag.

Reiko gave a little wave, and Harry felt strangely relieved as he walked to his own room.

Draco was out, of course. He wasn't an early morning or early evening person. He and his cronies, Vincent and Gregory, were generally about causing havoc on the Gryffindors or plotting or whatever it was they entertained themselves with.

Harry no longer even pretended to try keeping abreast of house politics. He honestly didn't care. Pansy would inform him if anything important were going on, so he knew the general flow of it. Roy Pike had recently joined Draco's informal gang of allies, one of the better spellcasters in their year despite his half-blood status. Blaise Zabini seemed content to act aloof and superior, seeming to have time only for Daphne Greengrass.

Harry didn't know half the people involved except as names in Pansy's consistent reports. She did her level best to keep him apprised, though he knew the few things he cared enough to remember were far outweighed by those he simply forgot.

He knew with a bit more effort he could probably learn all her charts and alliances by heart, could probably learn to connect names to faces, but it seemed so much effort and he didn't really like being around people that much. They made him uncomfortable, especially in a crowd. Classes weren't so bad, because they were sort of constrained to their seats and while things did happen they happened quietly and not usually around him.

Harry stopped short of sitting on his bed when he noticed the letter. An orange envelope, sealed in blue wax. It said 'Harry' in large elegant purple letters the like of which he hadn't seen before.

He frowned at it. Hedwig usually brought his letters to him at breakfast, like all the students' owls. She did not enter his room - how could she, with the windows opening to the bottom of the lake. So whoever had left this was either a fellow student or a teacher.

He stared at the envelope for a long moment, but finally decided that it had to be safe. The school's protective charms would surely have caught anything dangerous. School pranks may occur regularly, but he had yet to be targeted himself. It could be silly, useless, or annoying, but it wouldn't be harmful. And it might be useful.

Harry sighed, then picked up the envelope. It vibrated slightly in his hands, the same feeling that he got from most wands that weren't his own. He opened it slowly, the wax seal melting away to nothing the moment it was loose from the parchment.

Clever, Harry thought. Ensures that it can't be copied, reused, or easily faked. And proves the envelope hasn't been opened before.

He was very curious now, as to what this strange message could be. He pulled out a thin paper, tightly woven but light, obviously expensive.

Please come to my office at your convenience. Tell the gargoyle Cherry Whips and it will escort you. I have something of great importance to discuss.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster

Something tickled the back of Harry's thought, an instinctive concern at the name and invitation. A quick check ensured he was alone. It would be safe.

Harry slipped easily past the mental veil, thinking. Professor Quirrell considered Dumbledore, 'The Watcher', as a personal adversary for unknown reasons. Harry himself seemed inclined to agree with the general animosity, though; this wizard was apparently in charge of his affairs, and had insisted upon leaving him with the Dursleys for his entire miserable childhood.

How could he interact with the man without it becoming obvious he was onto him? The veil within his mind would help with that, but Harry had become so used to slipping in and out of that hidden mental state that he wasn't sure any more that he'd be able to keep it closed when confronted directly with his nemesis.

He consciously pushed himself out, left the fuzzyness where it lay, and shrugged. The Headmaster wanted to talk to him, there was no real reason to ignore it. He had another meeting with Professor Quirrell the next morning, so this might be the best time to act. Pansy was away, there was no one he would be disappointing.

He tucked the letter into his pocket and headed upstairs. It was time for a face-to-face conversation with the headmaster.

Author's Note: Howdy! I'm alive! I've been alive this whole time, to be perfectly honest, but it's been a very chaotic couple of years. Long story short, I focused hard on my fantasy novels, got a contract for one series and a couple publishers bidding on the next, quit my job, and as of last month I've moved to a nice little town in the country where I can write and read to my heart's content.

I've still got a lot of work to do to get things to a stable sustainable cadence, but I'm starting to find my feet and settle in. Hopefully there'll be less of a wait until the next chapter this time. xD