Title: Lusus Naturae
Chapter: Chapter Nine
Rating: M for Matchstick
Warnings: Abuse, Death, Fight or Flight
A/N: Overpowered is just another way to say interesting. Bite me.
"Everyone in your seats," Professor Flitwick called. "Including you Mr. Thomas."
The class of students - half Gryffindor and half Ravenclaw - settled quickly into the raised pews on either side of the classroom. From his podium, Flitwick instructed them to take out their textbooks and open to page nineteen.
"After our revision last week, I'm confident all of you are up to par. We'll be moving on to our first subject of the year: Intention!" Flitwick raised his wand in emphasis. "Who can tell me the four pillars of wand-work? Ms. Granger, please."
Hermione beamed at the half-goblin Professor as she straightened, lowering her arm. "Incantation, Gesticulation, Intention, and Intensity."
"Quite right. Two points to Gryffindor. In European witchcraft and wizardry we access our cores through the first three pillars and by excersing our magic we implement control over the final pillar, intensity. Intention is perhaps the most fundamental of controls we have over our spell-casting. Through solid, practiced intention non-verbal spell casting is achieved," Flitwick recited.
In demonstration he raised his wand and wordlessly cast a summoning spell that gathered two dozen feathers from his desk and dispersed them to his students. Several Ravenclaw students clapped at the skillful display.
"Now, not many third years are capable of non-verbal spell-casting. That is no excuse not to try, however! I would like all of you to attempt casting Wingardium Leviosa on your feathers with and without speaking the incantation. When attempting the non-verbal spell, try to picture what you would like the feather to do in your mind's eye."
Harry had strategically placed himself between Hermione and Ron on the higher pew in the back, hoping to avoid his Professor's attention. From his left, Hermione immediately set to work trying to levitate her feather. Ron pulled his wand from his robes and gave Harry a dramatic eye roll as he followed suit, not quite pulling off the appearance of trying his best.
Looking around the room, Harry found Professor Flitwick's warning to be true. After a few minutes of trying, not a single student had much luck with levitating their feathers non-verbally. It gave him confidence to try himself.
He pulled out his wand and held it over the feather. Considering the incantation in his mind, he pictured the feather moving - not in any particular way, but moving from the spot where it currently rested on the desk top. He gave a swish and a flick of the tip of his wand.
"Merlin's balls," Ron shouted next to him.
Hermione gasped.
Harry looked left, looked right, and then followed where his two friends were looking to find his feather embedded in the wooden planks of the ceiling over their heads.
"Uh."
Professor Flitwick clapped his hands gleefully. "A natural, Mr. Potter. Try again!" the diminuitive man hollered, using his own magic to dislodge the feather and return it to the desk below. "Focus on the image in your mind. We only want it to float a few inches."
Harry was keenly aware of the sudden scrutiny. Every student in the room was staring at him. Hermione looked particularly put out by his success. It was just a fluke, he told himself. In an attempt to dissuade any further attention, Harry did not focus on anything.
He swished and flicked. For a moment nothing happened and he let out the breath he had been holding - until his feather began to quiver. It didn't leap into the air like before, but it shimmied in place as if fighting against the gravity holding it. Worse yet, Hermione's feather began to do the same, then Ron's, and then every feather on the elongated desk. As one, the six feathers rose into the air a few inches and froze there, suspended by the charm.
"How are you doing that?" Hermione hissed.
Harry shook his head. "I'm not."
"Bloody brilliant," Ron laughed.
"Fantastic!" Flitwick squeaked. "Fifteen points to Gryffindor for that incredible display."
The Professor eventually had to banish the floating feathers which refused to lower themselves back down to the table in order to continue the lesson. After allowing the others to try - and fail - he assigned a foot-long essay about intention as extracirricular work. In the end, Harry was the only one credited with successfully performing a non-verbal spell. The Ravenclaws were eager to sink their talons into him on his way out, demanding tips for how to achieve the feat on their own. Harry ended up darting from the Charms classroom as if his heels were on fire.
"Harry," Hermione called, jogging to catch up with him. "You have to tell me your process. That was incredible. You weren't kidding about practicing your classes over the summer."
"Yeah, I guess," Harry mumbled.
Ron caught up to them a second later and slung an arm around Harry's shoulders that made him flinch. "That was amazing. I thought Flitwick's cheeks were going to burst he turned so red."
"I've got to go," Hermione suddenly announced. "Ancient Runes is in fifteen minutes."
The pair watched her jog away down the corridor and Ron huffed.
"She's been like this since start of term. Seamus and I have a bet going that she'll work herself into the infirmary in less than a month."
"I've gotta go too," Harry replied. "I'm supposed to meet Madame Pomfrey for a check up."
"Do you want me to go with you?" Ron asked.
Harry shook his head.
Remus Lupin wandered the halls of his alma-mater, already reconsidering his decision to accept the Headmaster's invitation to return. In the past decade he had consigned the memories he and his friends had forged as children in these hallowed halls to a dark recess of his mind. With Black's escape and now his own return to Hogwarts, it felt as though the past he had done his best to outrun was lurking around every corner.
Lupin turned one such corner and found that fate had a way of piling on when one inludged in such flagrant self-pity. He was quickly stopped in his tracks as a half-height body bumped into his. An apology was already forming on his lips as he looked down to find the victim of his absent-mindedness.
"Sorry," the small boy offered, staggering away from the Professor.
He was small - too small for his age, Remus was certain - and the very spitting image of his father. Some cold dead part of his embittered heart roared to life at the sight of Harry Potter and another cried out in pain.
"Not to worry," Remus managed. "I believe the third year Gryffindors are attending potions next. If you're lost..."
This was the staff corridor, after all. It wasn't off limits to the students, in case of emergencies during the Professors' down time, but it was unusual to see any children in the hall during midday. All of this flashed through Remus' mind very briefly. He was mostly concerned with how short James Potter's son had grown to be. His instincts screamed that something was wrong with him.
"I-I'm on a reduced schedule," Harry told him. "I'm just going to my room."
"Gryffindor Tower is a long way from here," Remus replied. "I can walk you, if-"
Harry shook his head. The movement revealed what Remus' finer senses had been trying to tell him. Something about the way the boy's fringe moved across his forehead was wrong - simply put.
"You're wearing a glamour," Remus stated.
He didn't know what brought him to say it aloud. His heart was hammering painfully in his chest. The darker part of him - the wolf - was howling now. The boy looked up at him, wide-eyed and clearly hurt by his words, but all Remus felt was fear. Deep-rooted instincts drove him to back away and he did.
"I-I've gotta go," Harry mumbled. He bowed his head and tried to duck past Remus.
Remus wanted to reach out and stop him. He should have. Instead he stood there, dumbfounded, heart racing, and watched as Harry pushed into one of the nearby doors. When it closed behind him and Remus was left alone in the hall, the werewolf followed his exit. The door led to one of the staff's private quarters. He read the plaquard hung from the door.
Potions Master Severus Snape
Do NOT Enter
A last minute staff meeting was called for that evening by the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress. Missives were sent out at dinner summoning them to the Headmaster's Office at a quarter to eight, after the students had returned to their dorms for the night. Professors Flitwick, Sprout, Snape, and Lupin were of those in attendance. Joining them were Madame Pomfrey and Rubeus Hagrid.
As the others settled around the table that had been conjured at the center of the chamber off from the Headmaster's main office, Severus Snape took up a corner from which to oversee the proceedings with a dour sneer upon his face. None of his colleagues seemed surprised by the fact.
"Thank you all for coming," Dumbledore said, addressing the table. "There will be time for our bi-weekly affairs next Wednesday. Today I've called you here to discuss a delicate matter regarding one of our students."
"Harry Potter," Flitwick stated, rather than asked.
Severus pushed away from the wall. "Did something happen in your class today, Filius?" he demanded.
The others looked at him with thinly veiled shock. It was uncommon for the man to speak in any of their meetings beyond what was required and very rarely did he ask after the welfare of a student beyond his snakes. Flitwick looked too disoriented to speak. It took him a moment to right himself in the conversation before he replied.
"Yes, well, I believe something of note," the half-goblin supplied. "We were attempting non-verbal spell casting. Nothing advanced. I do this every year with the third years as an introduction to intent."
"Go on, Filius," Dumbledore prompted - if only to quell the Professor's concerns that there would be some backlash over his cirriculum.
"Right," the wizard said. "No one was succeeding, of course, until Mr. Potter tried. He managed to fling the feather up into the rafters on his first attempt. I instructed him to clearly focus on raising the feather only a few inches. When he tried again he succeeded not only in levitating his own, but also five other feathers on the table. Quite remarkable. I haven't seen such natural talent since-" He seemed to think better of his next words as his eyes found Snape's once more and continued with, "I was concerned about such expenditure of his core, however, and assigned light reading for the rest of the class."
"Severus," Dumbledore said. His concerns went unspoken, but were properly conveyed.
"If you'll excuse me," Severus said with a glare at the rest of the assembled staff, excusing himself to attend to Harry.
"You all know of the terrible events that transpired at the end of the last school year. Harry Potter and Ron and Ginny Weasley were led to the Chamber of Secrets below the school and encountered the Basilisk therein," Dumbledore stated, looking around to ensure his staff were following along. "Harry Potter remains deeply affected by the encounter and is still in recovery. While Madame Pomfrey works on helping him regain his physical well-being, I would implore each of you to keep an eye on him for any abnormalities in his behavior. If he is feeling ill, you will excuse him from class. If he does not wish to sit out, you will contact either myself, Madame Pomfrey, or Severus for further instructions."
"A Basilisk?" Lupin asked weakly. "I heard nothing of this."
"A shame," Professor Sprout simpered. "That Lockhart fellow got what was coming to him, endangering students like that."
"I-" Remus tried.
"We will discuss this later," Dumbledore interjected. "If any of you notice anything out of the ordinary, please pass the word along."
"Yessir," Hagrid said sadly. "Poor little lad."
"He wears a glamour," Remus blurted. "Is he staying with Sna- Severus?"
Dumbledore's eyes hardened at his words. "Severus is monitoring Harry's recovery closely. He is staying in a private room that has been added to Severus' private quarters until he is fit enough to return to the Gryffindor dormitories."
"You're sure that's best? Why not his Head of House?"
"I believe Severus can provide the best possible oversight, for now."