The night was a restless one.

Lying in bed, I could feel the last traces of adrenaline finally fading, replaced by a heavy exhaustion that weighed down on my limbs and begged my eyelids to drop. But every time sleep seemed within reach, the troll's monstrous figure with the club swinging down on me would haunt my vision. My heart would race and I would jolt me back to full alertness.

No matter how hard I tried, my mind kept circling back to the encounter with the troll. The whole thing had been brief – barely lasting half a minute – yet each of us teetered on the brink of death numerous times. Even a glancing blow by that club could have shattered every bone in our body. If the troll was a tiniest bit smarter, my friend would have been forcefully turned into a gruesome mess against the wall. Had that black cloud touched me…

And this was another surprise to ponder on. I wasn't an expert, but I really thought that my hunch on my best mate's affinity was spot on: he strongly values his freedom, he's very quick on his feet, he has insane flying skills – all pointed in that direction. There was just no way for him to be anything other than an air mage. And yet… Could he be some sort of air-death hybrid? I wasn't even sure if it was possible.

I rolled over in bed, trying to find a more comfortable position, but nothing seemed to work. I was hyper-aware of everything around me: the soft snores of my roommates, the sensation of the sheets against my skin, the warmth under my blanket and coldness outside. Even my own breathing seemed too loud.

I lost count of how many times I checked the clock on my bedside table, its seconds ticking by at a maddeningly slow pace.

After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, I finally drifted into a fitful sleep. When the first rays of the dawn began to filter through the curtains, I woke with a start, utterly drained, as if I had spent the night running around the castle instead of lying in bed.

Glancing around the dormitory, I saw that my roommates were still fast asleep. For once, I was the first one to wake up. There was no use in trying to go back to sleep, so I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on my face helped shake off the last traces of drowsiness. My reflection in the mirror looked haggard and worn.

As I slowly went about getting ready for another school day, I couldn't help but wonder how Harry and Gran– Hermione were faring. Her first name felt foreign on my tongue. She had been a source of irritation for so long, the teacher's pet who bossed everyone around and yet… she had lied to Professor McGonagall.

Eventually, I got dressed, gathered all my school stuff. Without waiting for anyone else to wake up, I headed downstairs for breakfast – it was about to start soon. As expected, the common room was mostly empty except for an occasional early riser and– yep, there he was. Percy was straightening his tie and overall looking like a picture-perfect Prefect ready to face the world.

He did a double take as he noticed me out of the corner of his eye. I felt like, If it were any of my other siblings, they would totally gawk at me, but Percy was too proper for that. "Ron? Good morning," he greeted me slowly.

"Morning," I mumbled back, ignoring an unspoken question, and made my way towards the exit. I had no brain capacity to come up with a lie on the spot. My elder brother had other plans, though.

"Ron?" he called after me, making me stop. "Are you alright?" As I kept silent, he grew more concerned. "I know that the troll was quite a scare," he started, making me flinch, "but I assure you, professors took care of it. There's no danger anymore."

I breathed a sigh of relief. He clearly hadn't been told about my part in last night's events. I wondered how he would react when he found out who really 'took care of it'. The thought made me chuckle. "Thanks, Percy. Just a rough night." And with that I left the common room.

After the rocky start, the school day went on as usual. It was mind-blowing how fast things went back to normal at Hogwarts, as if nothing had happened at all. You'd think it was just another Halloween, if not for one thing.

When you're hanging out with Harry Potter, the famous Boy-Who-Lived, on a regular basis, you quickly learn to ignore all the whispers floating around. But today, the talks were more persistent and harder to ignore. The whole student body was buzzing with rumors on what occurred the night before. People came up with all sorts of theories, from some claiming it was a Boggart, to others thinking Quirrel mistook a dancing pumpkin's shadow for a troll.

Most students were willing to believe it was just a massive prank that went wrong, at least until they found out that a girl's bathroom was closed for repairs. Luckily for the three of us, nobody seemed to hear about our involvement and, fingers crossed, it would remain that way.

Hermione had kept her distance all day, until Harry and I finally caught her after the Potions. We pulled her into one of the hundreds deserted classrooms in this huge castle for the promised talk.

So, here we were, all three of us, sitting around a desk in the far corner, just staring at each other without saying a word. The atmosphere was a bit tense, still carrying the weight of last night's events. My eyes kept shifting, and nobody else seemed to be in a hurry to break the awkward silence.

For some reason it was harder than I anticipated. It's not like it's such a huge secret that I must take to my grave or something. It'd come out sooner or later. But I had lied to Harry all this time. Well, not really, but as good as. What if he didn't want anything to do with me anymore?

Besides, how much did they actually see? A sudden seizure could be explained by some condition. That I started evading the death burst before it happened? No one actually saw it. Harry had other things to worry about and Hermione was completely out of it, maybe…

I shook my head. It's one thing to just avoid the topic, another thing entirely to blatantly lie about it to the face. Harry certainly wouldn't forgive me. It's absolutely not worth it. Come on, it's not hard.

Hermione's voice broke the silence, her tone impatient. "Are you going to say anything or not?"

"Alright, alright," I said, scratching my head nervously. "So, um… I guess we've got some explaining to do, don't we?"

Harry sat back with arms crossed, his expression guarded. "I don't know what you're talking about. We went to warn Hermione about the troll. We found Hermione and the troll. We saved her. The end."

Hermione stared at him incredulously, clearly unsatisfied with his version of events.

"Yeah, mate, no. It's not gonna cut it," I said.

"You bet it's not!" she screeched out. "First, you," she pointed at me, "started screaming bloody murder as if being cut open," ignoring my flinch, she turned to point at Harry, " then you exploded in some black smoke that knocked out a fully grown mountain troll, and you," he got back to me, "somehow knew about it. You said you'd explain what happened. So please, for the love of God, quit stalling."

Harry and I exchanged glances,our expressions equally apprehensive. Despite our shared unease, we needed to address the issue.

'So much for completely out of it.'

Hermione's piercing gaze was bearing down on us. Harry only huffed in response. "Fine. But I still don't know what you want to hear."

"What was that?"

"Magic." I barely managed to stifle a snort.

Hermione clearly didn't appreciate the sarcasm. She looked like she was one step away from strangling Harry.

"I figured that much, thank you. That was unlike any magic I've heard of."

"Sorry, can't help you," Harry said. "I don't know."

Hermione pressed on, not willing to let this go. "Really? Because I got the impression, it wasn't the first time."

Harry kept deflecting. "It just happens. Sometimes." I couldn't help but feel disappointed at his reluctance to share such a vital part of himself. It had crossed the line from being funny to just plain frustrating.

Hermione stared.

"Sometimes," she repeated dryly. "Sometimes you just explode in magic."

Harry shrugged, "I guess. Ron said it happens."

Now, it was my turn to be on the receiving end of Hermione's stare. Damn you, Harry.

"What? It does," I said defensively. "Accidental magic does that."

Hermione spluttered. "I know what accidental magic does!"

"Then what more do you want from me?" My friend was refusing to budge.

The tension in the room was mounting, and it was becoming increasingly clear that our bickering was getting us nowhere. Finally, I couldn't take it any longer.

"Oh, bloody hell! You'd think we're going to crucify you, Harry. You used death magic on the troll, big deal. Why are you so freaking defensive? It was actually quite impressive. Though you could have toned it down a bit," I muttered as an afterthought.

Harry and Hermione stared at me with round eyes, rendered speechless.

"De– death magic?.." Harry stuttered, his expression had finally shifted from the indifferent mask he'd been wearing.

Hermione pursed her lips, reminding me of Professor McGonagall's displeased face from the previous day. "Really, Ron? You're not seriously suggesting that Harry here is a dark wizard. Isn't it a bit harsh for a first year?–"

"Are you daft?" I exclaimed, taken back. She was being completely ridiculous now. "What's dark wizardry has to do with anything?"

"–And shouldn't the troll be, you know, dead?" Hermione finished almost mockingly, ignoring my words. However, I couldn't help but notice how her gaze sharpened at being called daft. Oh boy.

"Granger, for your information, death magic can be non-lethal. It's not just the Killing Curse. For God's sake, most of the spells we learn in Defense are of the death type!.. At least, supposed to learn," I mumbled, recollecting Quirrer's questionable teaching. I scratched my head. "Harry's a death mage, that's okay. Like I said, no big deal."

"Death mage?.." Harry repeated, his voice weak. What is it with Harry repeating after me?

"I admit I thought you were air type all this time. I mean, I don't blame you for not telling me. People can be stupid about this kind of thing." And it's not like I shared my own type either.

"Ron, I have no bloody idea what you are talking about right now," Harry said, speaking slowly.

I scoffed, feeling a mix of annoyance and hurt igniting in my chest. But before I could say anything I might regret, I shifted my gaze at his expression. He was deadly serious.

I blinked.

"Are you– are you for real?" I asked incredulously. I desperately looked between Harry and Hermione, searching for any sign of recognition and finding none. You're kidding me. "No-no-no. Please, tell me you know about magic types."

"Like charms, transfiguration–"

"No!" I groaned loudly and let my head drop onto the desk with a resonating thud. "What– But– How can't you know that!? It's the most basic stuff!"

Harry's dry voice broke through my moaning, "Maybe because we were raised by Muggles?"

"But!–" I slumped back in resignation, my body going limp and fully lying on the surface. "...Point." I admitted with a sigh.

I still had trouble believing how on earth it was possible. Hadn't Muggle-borns gotten any explanations about these things? Surely they need to know the basics of the wizarding world at all, don't they? They couldn't have, I don't know, a pamphlet or two? Whatever the reason, it seemed the responsibility had fallen upon me to give my friend a crash course on one of the fundamental aspects of how magic works.

"Alright!" I jumped up on my seat, dramatically clapping my hands to grab their attention. Straightening my spine, I turned fully towards my friends, full-on lecture mode. "Every magical person is born different, like, with their own magical flavor. It's called a magic type. Some folks have a natural knack, an affinity if you will, for fire magic, while others are all about air or life magic. It's like being born with a talent for something specific, it's part of who you are."

"Take Seamus, for example. He is obviously a fire mage. I mean, the guy could probably set water on fire if he tries hard enough. With some practice, he won't even need a wand for it. Fire is just his thing, it's what he's naturally attuned to. However, when it comes to water or ice magic, it's like trying to teach a phoenix to swim. Not happening."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "So, you want to tell me that there's some magic I'll never be able to do just because I wasn't born with the right magic type?" She spoke with an edge to her voice, clearly displeased by the notion.

I nodded. "Yeah. Well, no– I mean… In theory you can, but it's extremely hard. It takes much, much more effort and mental strain. Believe me. More often than not, it's just not worth it."

Realization dawned on Hermione's face. "Is that why you're so bad at spells? Because they don't fit your magic type?" She covered her mouth, mortified at what she had just said.

I felt my face heat up in embarrassment. "...Yes. Thank you."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean–"

"Don't," I cut her off quickly. "Just don't. I'm perfectly aware how much I suck with a wand, okay?"

At this point, Harry decided to chime in, trying to change the topic. "So what does it mean for me? You called me a death mage."

"Yes," I said. "That's what I gathered from what you did to the troll. But honestly, it's not as sinister as it sounds, Harry. And it does not mean you're a dark wizard," I add, throwing an irritated glance at Hermione. Honestly. "Death magic is all about dealing with negative energy. It doesn't necessarily mean causing death; it can be any biological effect: stunning, paralyzing, causing pain… making someone sneeze, this sort of thing.

"So, it's not about killing, it's about hurting," Harry summed it up.

I bit my lip. "...Yes," I confirmed, then quickly hurried along. "But come on! It's not like other mages have little to offer in terms of hurting others. Fire and force mages are especially good at it too. But yeah, it's the primary specialization of death mages. Death magic is exclusively designed for combat: every spell is either offensive or defensive. It's what makes them the best aurors out there."

"Aurors?" Harry asked.

"Magical police," I clarified.

"Oh. Cool." He slumped back into his chair and continued speaking in a softer tone. "I had no idea. I only knew that people tend to get sick when I am upset. I thought I was cursed or something." He snorted after a pause. "Turned out I was technically right," he said, pointedly scratching his scar.

A strained silence lingered for a moment, his last words hanging in the air.

"Mate, morbid much? It's just your magic acting up."

"Well, I know that now. But I didn't know about magic back then," he pointed out.

Again this. I constantly forgot that not everyone was raised surrounded by magic. It was a hard thing to imagine. However, something didn't quite make sense.

"But how is it possible? I mean, kids show their first bursts of accidental magic around the age of six or seven. And they're often quite violent. How do Muggles explain it when things explode or catch on fire around their child?"

Harry just shrugged. "I don't know. My relatives knew about magic already, they just didn't deign to tell me."

At once, we turned towards Hermione, who had been suspiciously silent. So lost in thought, she hadn't noticed our stares at first.

"What?" she asked, startled by our sudden focus on her.

"How did your parents explain all those weird things happening around you if they didn't know about magic?" Harry asked.

I narrowed my eyes. "Or you are one of those silent types?"

Hermione blinked, her thoughts gradually returning to the conversation. "I– I don't know," she admitted. "Professor McGonagall said that it must be because I've always been a calm child. Accidents were pretty mild anyway, so it was easy to disregard anything unexplainable as a trick of the mind or something, I guess. Why? And what do you mean by silent type?"

"You know," I began, "those that are hard to detect from the outside? Telepathy, empathy and the like."

Harry's eyes widened. "Wait, what? Telepathy is real?"

I nodded sagely. "Oh, yeah. Mind mages are relatively common, not as much as elementals of course, but still."

He stared. "Mate, how many of these types even are there?" Hermione suddenly perked up, equally interested in the topic.

"Um…" I had to pause for a moment to think it through. "It's like asking how many colors there are. Essentially, as many as you want. People recognize some basic ones, like blue, green, red and all that, but you can't just list every single one. When you see a color, you give it a name that seems closest, right? It's just easier that way. Magic is kinda similar."

Hermione sighed a bit exasperated. "What basic types then?"

"I'm getting to that," I said. "Historically, the wizarding world divides magic into three big groups, called families. The first one, which is the most common, is elemental magic. It's fire, water, air, earth, ice, lightning, force and so on. My family, for example, has been elemental mages for generations."

"Then, there's the living family, all about magic tied to living creatures, like life and death, as well as mind and emotions. To this category belongs… em…" I struggled to recall anyone besides Harry, who'd be familiar to both of them. I snapped my fingers. "Professor McGonagall. She's a mage shapeshifter. It's a sort of subkind of life magic, but not really. As far as I know, she can transform into a cat."

"And the last one, which is the most rare and weird, is the so-called universal family. It's all about abstract stuff like time, space, divination and chance…" I took a deep breath. "This is where I fit in. I'm a diviner."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. Whatever she expected, it clearly wasn't that. "You're a Seer?" she asked with no small amount of incredulity.

I made a face, a little uncomfortable with the term. "If you want to call me that… sure. Or a probability mage, if you want to sound fancy. It's a legit term, too." I said with a shrug.

"But what does it mean?" asked Harry.

Hermione absentmindedly muttered, "It means he can see the future."

"Wait, what!?" Harry blurted out, his eyes wide with surprise. "Seriously!?"

"Yep."

I could barely contain my amusement as Harry was blinking and gaping stupidly. His reaction was too priceless, so I couldn't resist messing with him a little. As he opened his mouth again to speak, I jumped in before he could say anything.

"How does it work? No, I don't see the future in dreams. I don't go into trances and mumble gibberish. And if you bring me a crystal ball, I'll hit you."

I smirked at the look at his face. He was caught off guard, mouth still hanging open. After a few seconds, he finally collected himself. "It could've been a good guess!"

I simply shrugged, still smiling.

Harry scowled at me. "Let me try something." He delved into one of his pockets, rummaged around before pulling out a simple knut. "Alright, Mr. Oracle, heads or tails?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. Too random."

"If you say so," he muttered, putting the coin away. He scanned the room, searching for something to test me with. The classroom was kind of dark, with old bookshelves lining the walls and a large window on one side. Most of the space was taken up by rows of student desks. On the opposite wall, there was an ornate wooden desk standing by the opposite wall, piled with some trinkets and sheets of parchment. After a bit, Harry gave up and asked, "Is anyone going to come in here?"

I gave it a quick look before responding, "I don't see it, no. But… it doesn't mean much, honestly. One just has to change their mind and my prediction becomes worthless."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Convenient. You're not pulling my leg, are you?"

"No!" I exclaimed, perhaps a bit too loudly, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's just that divination has a bunch of limitations. I can't see a future event and claim that that's what's going to happen. I can't give you full guarantee. There's no such thing."

"I guess, it makes sense," Hermione chimed in. "Otherwise, we couldn't change the future no matter what."

"Exactly! It's more like I see possibilities, and those change all the time."

Hermione nodded, still lost in her thoughts, and softly murmured, "So, you didn't know about the troll…"

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, leaving me dazed in shock, mouth hanging open.

"What the bloody hell!? Of course not! Jeez, what do you take me for?"

Hermione winced apologetically. "Sorry."

"You thought what– I said those nasty things to you on purpose for you to run away and become a troll snack!?"

"I said I'm sorry!" she cried, frustration and regret mixed in her voice." What else do you want from me? I was wrong, happy? It's just–" her indignation faded at once. "I don't understand anything." she said finally, sounding suddenly very small and tired.

I studied her carefully. She was the same small girl with unnaturally bushy hair and teeth that could rival a beaver's. She still had those sharp eyes, hiding behind thoughts running a mile wide, she still had that challenging look of someone eager to prove themselves. But for the first time, I saw it not as arrogance but as something else. She looked lost.

Hermione was extremely intelligent, no one could deny that. She was likely used to always knowing more than her peers, and it showed. But now, she had been thrust into a world where nothing made sense.

As I noticed hints of bags under her eyes, I realized that maybe I wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping tonight.

"Fine." I sighed, relenting. "Besides, it doesn't work like that!"

"Then how does it work," Hermione asked.

"Listen, all I can do so far is to see short-term outcomes of my actions. Like, what will happen if I open a door or peek around the corner," I shot a pointed glance at Harry," or eat the candy. This sort of thing."

It took Harry a few seconds to catch on, but then his eyes lit up with realization. "That's how you did it! With those beans."

"Yeah."

"So," he started slowly," you looked into the future where you eat the bean, and now you know what it tastes like." After my nod, he scoffed playfully. "'Color and smell', you prick."

Hermione gave me a stink eye. "Your card trick on the train." It wasn't a question.

I barked a laugh. "Yep. That too," I replied, unapologetically.

"That's so cool!" Harry exclaimed his eyes wide in awe. "Why didn't you tell me? Can you, like, find out the answers to a test?"

I blinked, startled by the sudden question. "Er…"

"Harry!" Hermione didn't waste a moment to scold him, her voice stern. "How could you even– hold on!" she turned to me, her expression angry. "Is that how you're so good at Potions? You literally know what to do to make it work!"

Busted. I coughed nervously. "Erm… Well, it's not as easy as it sounds, but… yeah, essentially," I admitted reluctantly.

"You've been cheating this whole time!?" Hermione particularly screeched.

I choked on my words. "Cheat– cheating? Why on earth it's cheating? It's just my natural talent, why can't I use it!? Besides, I only use it in brewing, just a little check how a potion would go. That's all." I added, hoping it would pacify her a little.

Fat chance. She latched on like a Niffler to gold. "You want to say you never used your ability to get answers from professors?"

"I–" as I started, my mind drifted back to the first Potions class. I winced guiltily. That was an answer enough.

She positively exploded. "I can't believe it! Don't you think it's not fair!? While other students work hard to get anywhere, you just take a shortcut!"

"Hermione!" Harry cried out.

"FAIR!?" I shouted, my blood boiling in anger. What do you know about fair!? Do you have any idea how much time and effort I wasted on the Alohomora spell, huh? A month! A whole bloody month I practiced one of the simplest charms to make it work! A whole month! How much did it take you, mh? An hour? Two? I bet you read it in a book and went, like, 'Oh, interesting spell, let's try it'. Whoop," I mimicked a wand movement, "didn't work. Whoop, didn't work. Whoop, wow, I did it, I'm so good. Sounds right?"

Hermione was struck speechless.

"Or that girl from Charms yesterday?" I continued, voice simmering. "No wand, just barely a thought, and a feather is flying. How is that fair?" I shook my head. "Fair has nothing to do with it."

I took a deep breath, trying to reign my temper. "Yes, knowing the future may sound cool and all, but it pretty much means I barely can do anything else. My magic just doesn't suit any spells we learn here. That's why I was so eager for Potions, hoping I'd be good at something."

"Ron, you're–" Harry started, but I cut him off.

"Or yesterday, with the troll," I said, recalling why we were gathered here in the first place. Immediately, the atmosphere in the room shifted. "You have no idea, Harry, how much danger you were in at that moment," Harry opened his mouth to retort. "No, you don't! You understand it, with your brain, that it could easily kill you. Crush you, smash you, tear you apart. You don't trulyknow it. I do."

Hermione had covered her mouth in horror. Harry gulped.

I continued with a shaky voice. "I saw everything, everything that could happen. And all I could do was just watch, helplessly. For all the good it did. I was completely useless."

A heavy silence hung in the air after my confession, enveloping us like a thick, suffocating cloak.

Hermione was the first to find the voice to speak. "Don't you think you're being too harsh on yourself?" She said carefully. "A mountain troll is too dangerous for any first year, no matter their magic type. Professor McGonagall was right, we were lucky."

"And yet, it was Harry who saved us," I argued. "If it weren't for him, we'd be killed by the troll.

"If it weren't for you, Ron, you and Hermione would have gotten caught in my blast of… death magic. Who knows what would happen to you then…" he trailed off.

The thing is I know. Sort of. Mostly, it was darkness and then nothing – not much to go with, but it got his point across. "...I guess."

"You know, Ron, your power is pretty incredible," he continued. "I mean seriously, who wouldn't like to know the future!?"

It made me crack a smile. "Honestly, it's not all it's cracked up to be."

"Still, maybe you can help us avoid trouble in the future," he suggested.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said. "He's not a miracle worker." Hold on, was that a joke?

"Oi! We're not that bad!" Harry protested.

I chuckled. "I don't know. It's only been two months and we already made a mess."

Harry spluttered at the blatant betrayal. "Well, you were there too, so! Maybe the twins finally rubbed off on you?"

I made a horrified face that instantly had Harry cracking up. "You take that back!" I shove him back playfully, before a sudden thought struck me. "Oh no. Mom explicitly told the twins not to blow up any toilets."

We locked eyes for a long moment, and then, as if on cue, we both burst laughing. Surrendering to a fully blown laughter, I felt tension from the past twenty four hours fading away. It was nice.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Boys…" she grumbled, but I spotted a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "So, apparently, Harry's a death mage, you're a diviner. What about me?"

I blinked away the last of my laughter. "How should I know?" I asked, bewildered.

"You're the expert here. How do you figure out your magic type?"

"Right. Well, the most obvious clue is your accidental magic," I began, settling back into lecture mode. "Then there are a few abilities you might have and, finally, your aptitude – what spells come to you the easiest."

"Abilities? Like what?" Hermione asked, leaning forward.

Well, I didn't have to look far. "For example, death mages have something called deathsight. It basically lets them sense living things around them. Right?" I asked Harry.

He looked as if he suddenly had an epiphany. Something had clicked in his mind and finally everything made sense. He nodded dumbly.

I kept talking. "Actually a lot of mages have some sensing abilities: fire mages have basically heat vision, air mages sense air currents, mind mages can sense your mental presence, stuff like that."

"And you?" Harry asked.

I let out a huff. "Mate, divination is nothing more than sensory power in itself. It literally can't do anything but provide information."

"Well," Hermione started. "I don't know about anything like that, but my first accidental magic was when I summoned a book from the topmost shelf when I was little."

I couldn't help but snort hard. "Figures. Here you are. Pulling is a force effect, which makes you a force mage."

"No, I meant more like… it just appeared in my hand, out of nowhere."

"Wow," I whistled. "Okay. That sounds like you're a space mage, then. Quite rare. Well, spatial magic is a tiny bit advanced for a first year, so don't expect to learn it anytime soon."

"Figured as much," she said. "I can guess that it has something to do with teleportation. What else can it do?"

"As far as I know, it's not offensive at all, it's mostly designed for transportation and storing objects and stuff. Space mages can warp space to make it longer or shorter. They can make things bigger on the inside, create their own pocket space, open gates. And, of course, apparate, but almost everyone can do that," As I talked, Hermione's eyes shined more and more with poorly restrained excitement. I swear, by the time I trailed off, she almost had stars in her eyes. I felt that I was going to regret it, but I had to make sure. "...Questions?"

And just like that, whatever had held her back during my speech instantly puffed out of existence. "That's amazing! What's a gate? Is it like a portal? Wizards really can just apparate anywhere they want? Why take the Hogwarts Express then?" I open my mouth. "Oh, right, you can't apparate at Hogwarts." I closed it. "Can you then open a gate to Hogwarts? Maybe not. But then, if the wards prevent space magic, how are we supposed to learn it here? Will I really be able to expand inner space? Oh my God! I could so use a bag like this, wait, does it reduce the weight?–"

"Hermione! Breathe," I said overwhelmed, making her shut it and flush in embarrassment. "I don't know all that much. You can just ask someone from senior years. Or you could just look in the library, you know."

"…Right," she coughed awkwardly. "What about you, Harry? What was your first accidental magic like?"

I turned to Harry, curious about that too, only to find Harry looking rather uncomfortable and hesitant. The silence dragged on for a while before I decided to take pity on him. "You don't have to–"

"No, no. It's alright. You deserve to know." He seemed to steel himself.

"A few years ago, my cousin and his friends ganged up on me after school. They called it Harry Hunting," he smirked wryly. "It didn't go as planned for them. I didn't understand what happened – one moment, Dudley is beating me down to the ground, and next he just… collapses on top of me. Another kid started retching up. There was a lot of screaming," Harry let out a nervous chuckle. "I've never seen Uncle Vernon so… feral. I was sure he was going to kill me right there. But… lucky me, he went down with a heart attack," he added with a weak smile.

I stared in shock for a moment and exchanged glances with Hermione. "Merlin, Harry! That's… crazy." I grimaced, my stomach twisting with guilt. Stupid, I should have expected something like that.

Hermione wasn't much better, her eyes wide in horror. "Oh my God!" she gasped.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, scared me half to death. I really thought I killed them, you know. I remember locking myself in my room for days, terrified out of my mind. But they turned out to be okay. I mean, the ambulance came in time for Uncle, and Dudley… Well, he was really weak for a few days, but otherwise fine."

"I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that, Harry," I said in sympathy. "I can't imagine what it was like."

"It's okay. Really," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Oddly enough, it changed things for the better. My relatives started keeping their distance from me, which is always a win. Rumors spread in the neighborhood, no one dared to touch that… 'demon'. Even Uncle started to take care of his health, lost a bit of weight. He definitely needed that. Things got better."

"It's still terrible, Harry," said Hermione, shaking her head.

"I guess", Harry mumbled.

A tense silence hung in the air, as none of us quite knew what to say. Unfortunately, Harry seemed to interpret our silence in a different way.

"You're– you're not afraid of me now, are you?" he asked, face twisted with insecurity.

My jaw dropped in shock. "You're bonkers, Harry, if you believe for a second that I'll stop being your friend just because of some accidental magic. Don't be ridiculous." I couldn't believe he'd even think that.

"Harry, it's not your fault. Accidents happen," Hermione assured him, her voice soft but firm.

"But it still means that I'm dangerous to be aro–"

"Shut up!" I shouted, unwilling to hear it anymore. "Harry, any accidental magic is dangerous. Hermione and I have been lucky: my magic can't hurt anybody," I said that, while thinking to myself 'besides myself, that is', "though Hermione could have just as well teleported herself or her parents somewhere… unfortunate. Or parts of them… Sorry," I added at the look Hermione shot at me. She looked slightly unsettled, it clearly didn't occur to her.

"What I want to say, Harry," I carried on. "It doesn't matter what your type is. My brother Charlie, who is with dragons, remember, is a fire mage, how do you think that went in our house? I hadn't been born yet, but it was a disaster. Or Bill, he nearly cracked dad's skull!"

"You don't have to fear your own magic. You saved our lives yesterday, Harry! You won't get rid of us so easily!" Feeling bold, I gave Harry a one-armed hug. Harry looked totally awkward and lost, but didn't attempt to break free. Not that I'd let him. "You're good?"

"Good," he sighed out, seemingly mollified. "Thanks for that."

"Don't mention it. That's what friends are for, right?" At the last words I threw a pointed glance at Hermione who remained quiet.

She looked momentarily stunned, but replied "Of course!" with a pleased smile on her face.

Notes:

Here it is! The chapter came along very nicely, I think. It was hard to write, as the whole chapter is essentially one huge-ass dialogue, and I had no reference from the books to rely on. Still, I'm very satisfied with how it all turned out.

Kudos for those who guessed correctly Hermione's type. I honestly forgot some details from the books, but it didn't change the outcome. She is an awesome space mage, who's going to be terrifying in the future. In the far future, I'm afraid, as spatial manipulation (as well as time manipulation; yes, I'm looking at you, time-turners) is a bit much for earlier years. Till then, mostly small tricks.

Also, I'd like to point out here once and for all - in my verse Reparo spell does not exist. At least, not generalized version that would let fix the whole room worth of damage with a simple flick of a wand. Some specialized ones, sure, Transfiguration is there for you. But they are still gonna take time and effort.