Chapter 7

Despite the warnings from the older students and even Professor Flitwick that morning in the common room, Harry and Terry were very nearly late for Potions Friday morning. The dungeons of Hogwarts were a labyrinth and only after asking the Bloody Baron for assistance at another dead end, did the two reach the first-year classroom. Luckily the class of Ravenclaw's and Hufflepuff's were still waiting outside and, after a brief scolding from Susan for nearly being late, the door opened seemingly of its own accord and the group nervously shuffled inside.

It was a dark room, even to Harry's sight, though the jars of ingredients that covered one wall did have unique colours and patterns that drew his attention for a moment. There were rows of workstations with a gap down the middle, Terry took one station for himself in the middle of the room and Harry sat next to him, setting up his enchanted quill and parchment on the desk as he settled in.

There was a bang from the front of the classroom as a dark figure strode forward from a door beside the blackboard, dark grey magic lay unnaturally still beneath his robes and as he stopped at the front of the class, Harry was impressed at the level of control the wizard seemed to have over his own magic. He gently prodded his quill with his wand just in time for it to catch the beginning of the Professor's speech.

"You are here to learn the subtly science and exact art of potion brewing." He began. He spoke in little more than a whisper; his voice was a little rough, but the class hung on every word. Professor Snape apparently had the gift, like McGonagall, of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is very little wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will truly understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through mortal veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a group of fools as I usually have to teach." The classroom was near silent, only the faint crackle of flame from a cauldron in the back corner breaking the atmosphere.

"Let's see if any of you have bothered to open the textbooks this year, Potter," Harry startled slightly and straightened in his seat at his name. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape asked.

"Draught of Living Death, sir." Harry replied.

The first chapter of the Potions textbook described this particular combination, the fumes from the potion could cause drowsiness and fainting if the brewer wasn't careful and he had quizzed Terry on it the night before.

The rather dour Potions Professor was silent for a moment before he asked again. "And where would I find a bezoar?"

Again, Harry was grateful for reading the Potions book last night, this was described in the first chapter as well for neutralising toxic potions and poisons.

"The stomach of a goat, sir." He replied confidently, pleased that his revision was already paying off.

"And if I were to ask you the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

At this, Harry had to thank Neville, he had been waxing poetic all the different uses of this plant after Herbology that week.

"They are the same plant, also known as Aconite, sir." The Potions Master stared at him and Harry thought he could see some of the man's grey magic shifting through the air between them before the Professor turned sharply to face the board.

"Correct on all counts, and no more than I expect from any student in my class. Now, today you will be brewing a Boil-Cure potion. It is relatively simple, and the recipe can be found on page seventeen of your books. You have until the end of the period to hand in a vial." With that Snape waved his wand at the board and something rippled across it, likely writing as Harry couldn't understand it.

All around Harry, students began to scrabble and frantically search their kits for ingredients. He took his time reading the recipe first and then pulling out what he would need; a stirring rod, a medium knife, and a pestle & mortar along with the ingredients listed.

He took a few moments to get used to the feel of the tools and the jars the ingredients were in, each jar had a braille label describing the contents before he began the recipe.

He crushed an ounce of snake fangs in the mortar and pestle and stirred the brittle green-ivory powder into the cauldron that was a third filled with clear water. Then he sliced two pungous onions as finely as he could before he gently placed them in the cauldron and tapped the small metal rim beneath the cauldron which immediately ignited, heating the cauldron from below. Then he added dried nettles and a dash of Flobberworm mucus which was a particularly disgusting shade of lime, then he stirred vigorously, doing his best to avoid the fumes that were already rising from the cauldron.

A silver spoonful of pickled Shrake spines next, the strange sea-green spines seemed to dissolve in the cauldron quickly, changing its colour to a dark mottled green, like moss on a tree. Then a glug of stewed horned slugs, he wasn't entirely sure how much a 'glug' was, but settled on just letting three of the thick slugs fall from the jar and into the mixture. Then he stirred and turned off the heat with another tap of his wand. The recipe said to wait for the contents to turn a dark brown and stop bubbling completely before adding porcupine quills, Harry's potion didn't look brown to him but a quick check in Terry's direction settled his fears, the other boy's potion looked a dark brown-green in Harry's sight as well. So, he waited for the mixture to stop bubbling and then dropped in five porcupine quills, stirring counter-clockwise three times as he did so.

And then he was done. He wasn't the first to finish, but he wasn't the last either and he was fairly pleased with the outcome. His potion sat calmly in the cauldron and when he spooned some into a crystal vial, he caught a flash of sharpness from the liquid, it wasn't a colour or even a pattern like he was used to, but the impression was there. He gripped the vial in his hand as he made his way to the front of the room, his cane tapping on the flagstones until they met the slightly less solid wood of the desk the Professor stood behind.

The tall wizard was silent as he carefully deposited his vial in the rack alongside the others and then made his way back to his desk. He cleared away the ingredients and then washed out his cauldron at a large sluice in the back of the room, the frigid water that burst from the heavy tap on the wall was powerful enough that with only a little scrubbing he had a clean cauldron again. He did the same with his knife and mortar and pestle before he re-joined Terry at the high desk in time for Professor Snape to address the class.

"For next week, six inches on the ingredients of this potion, what they do and why. Dismissed." The room emptied in a hurry, students scrambling for the door, Harry held back as he knew that he would likely end up on the floor if he dared the crowd, instead he and Terry took their time getting up and slinging their bags over their shoulders. By the time Harry was ready, his trusty cane in hand, the room was empty but for the two Ravenclaws and Professor Snape who was silently watching them.

They had only just left the room when the door slammed violently shut behind them, the BANG echoing down the corridor as they stood stunned.

"Lunch?" Terry asked as they turned in what Harry hoped was the right direction and began to walk.

"I don't know how hungry I am after smelling Flobberworm mucus and stewed slugs to be honest Terry." Harry grimaced, the thought of ingesting the ingredients he had been using really did make him a little queasy when he considered it.

"You'll change your tune when we reach the Hall and you smell the food, they might even have treacle tart mate!" Terry laughed as he led the way and by the time they had reached the ground floor, Harry had to admit, the smell of food from the Hall had almost banished his prior queasiness.

History of Magic was spent reading from the textbook as again, Professor Binns droned on about a goblin rebellion back in 1689. Harry and Terry spent the period making notes on the settling of the Romans and the way their teachings changed magical Britain. By the end of the lesson, they had a full page of notes on the settling and how the different clans in Britain had come together to form a Wizards Council, a precursor to the Wizengamot. It was interesting stuff and Harry was eager to learn more about the history of the world he was a part of.

At dinner, Neville had seemingly regressed to his original nervous state, and it took much coaxing from Harry and Susan to get the shy boy to reveal what had happened. Neville had made a mistake in his Potions class, causing the brew to boil over and nearly spill onto his classmates. Professor Snape had dismissed the class early to give him time to clean up and taken five points from Gryffindor for Neville's mistake. After that, though the other first years were quick to console him, he had lost any confidence he had gained in the past week.

This was only worsened when Professor McGonagall strode down from the Head table and handed him a note, telling him he was excused from Flying lessons tomorrow and would be meeting McGonagall in her office at ten sharp.

It was only after dinner had finished and the group left for the library that Neville could be convinced that if Gregory Goyle hadn't been expelled for his terrible efforts in Transfiguration and Charms, then Neville surely wouldn't be for a simple Potions mistake. Even then, Neville spent the evening studying his Potions book religiously, he dreaded making another mistake in Snape's class.

Harry spent the evening working on the Potions assignment, and then moved onto practicing some of the basic charms in the textbook, nothing loud or bright in case Madam Pince caught wind, but just a few little things like the colour-changing charm which he found rather enjoyable to use once he had mastered it. He changed Terry's robes a dark orange and only after he and Neville had finished laughing, did he look up the countercharm to reverse the effects, much to Terry's dismay it took another ten minutes for Harry to manage it and several students passing by laughed at his strange attire.

That night, Terry and Harry once again tested each other on Charms and Transfiguration before bed, though this time Oliver Rivers asked if he could join in and soon the three were happily quizzing each other on questions from all the subjects they could think of.

By the time Harry had washed and was in bed, he had little energy left but, not wanting to disappoint Professor Flitwick's confidence in him, he stayed up long enough to practice his, by now second nature, breathing exercises. Despite his tiredness, or perhaps because of it, he found it easier than ever to draw on his magic, filling his cupped hand with the emerald energy until it overflowed, the magic dissipating into strands and motes of light as it spilled from his fingers. He fell asleep at some point with a fistful of magic and was asleep when the magic finally drifted back into his skin, re-joining with the river of it that flowed through his body.

Saturday morning the first years were all in a hurry and, after a rushed breakfast, they all gathered out on the Quidditch pitch to find two rows of brooms laid out and Madam Hooch, a stern woman with amber yellow magic, waiting for them. The morning mist had mostly burned off by then, but there was still a slight chill to the September air.

They all stood next to a broom, though Harry had to drag Terry from one of the brooms; its magic was very erratic looking, strands of magic along its length were twisting and snapping angrily around it and Harry doubted it would work well for anyone who tried it, let alone a beginner like them.

"Right, everyone hold out your dominant hand and say 'up'." Madam Hooch demonstrated and the broom beside her, which seemed to Harry's sight to be far newer and cleaner than the others, jumped into the air and smacked firmly into her open hand. Strands of the brooms magic wrapped around her arm and body, gently hanging around her as she stood in front of them all.

Harry held out his hand and called out "Up!" and was only a little surprised when the broom shot up into his hand, its magic eagerly wrapping around his arm and body. He looked around to see that he was one of only three to have their broom in hand. The Malfoy boy was another, he was holding the angry looking broom, and another Slytherin girl also had her broom in hand.

In short order, everyone had a broom in their hand and Madam Hooch did her best to show how a rider should hold and sit on a broom. Harry took guilty pleasure in Malfoy's embarrassment when she told him he had been riding a broom wrong his whole life.

Soon everyone was stood straddling a broom to Madam Hooch's satisfaction and it was time to take off.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, I want you all to give a firm kick off the ground and hover, and when I blow the whistle again, I want you all to land as gently as you can." The group mumbled in the affirmative and a sharp whistle sounded from the instructor.

It was unnerving, even though Harry could see the magic that infused the broom he was on, he still half expected to be left standing on the ground holding a broom like a fool. But with a gentle kick, he found himself hovering a few feet above the ground, the broom beneath him wasn't the most stable of surfaces as it dipped and wobbled as his weight shifted, however he had years of practice balancing without seeing the ground, compared to that balancing on a broom was easy.

He almost missed the second whistle to land as he tested leaning forward and back, feeling the broom move gently with his body, but he did land with the others and after a few more practices with this, they were allowed to take off within the pitch, but no higher than bottom of the stands. Harry rose until the ground was at the very limits of his awareness and flew slowly around the pitch, he thought he should be nervous but the feel of the wind rushing past him and the freedom he felt, they were exhilarating. He was careful not to go any higher, he still needed the surety that the ground was there, the thought of flying through the air with only sky all around him was at once both terrifying and awesome, but the fear won out and he dropped back to a steady twenty feet above the ground.

He was turning to head back in the direction of Madam Hooch when a broom and rider entered his awareness above and behind him, heading almost straight at him, he recognised the magic of the rider and the angry broom immediately and began to dip, trying to avoid the two. Malfoy sped up and followed his movement, if he didn't move they would collide so Harry dipped again and leaned forward, urging his broom on towards the distant Madam Hooch in the centre of the pitch. Malfoy had gained distance on him by then and was only a few broom lengths behind and above him. One broom length. Half a broom length. At the last moment, Harry dipped and pulled to the right, hoping to avoid a collision but as he did, he saw the angry looking magic on the broom Malfoy was riding lash out and it shifted jerkily closer to him. The front of Malfoy's broom clipped Harry's tail twigs and knocked them both into a spiral. Harry pulled hard to the left to try and control the spin, he had never spun so fast before and though the feeling was unpleasant, it wasn't as bad as apparating had been and he was able to slow the spin and land unsteadily, heaving breaths as he did.

Malfoy had not been so lucky. The front of his broom had spun out and he had been flung from the broom fifteen feet in the air, his broom spinning and colliding with a splintering crack against the stands as he landed with a heavy thud and a gasping wheeze.

A sharp whistle cut across the pitch as Madam Hooch landed next to Harry and picked something up from the grass next to him. She let out a soft intake of breath as she stepped closer and held out her hand to him.

"Are you alright Mr Potter?" She asked as she pulled him upright, she had an object in her hand that it took a moment for him to recognise. His glasses, they must have come loose when he had been sent into a spin. He nodded, thanking the witch as he quickly put the glasses on, the familiar feeling was comforting on his face.

"Thank you, Madam Hooch, I'm okay, is Malfoy?" He leaned on his broom slightly, wishing he had his cane with him, he had grown used to its warm weight in his hand and the broom was a poor substitute for it.

Madam Hooch nodded and then looked in Malfoy's direction, the other boy had slowly gotten to his feet, though he was holding his back and panting loudly. "Well, Mr Malfoy, I daresay you have come out of that encounter luckier than you had any right to be. I have rarely seen such foolish and dangerous flying, I'll be taking you and Mr Potter to the Hospital Wing and then you can find me for detention tonight. Maybe polishing all of the brooms in the school will teach you to respect the equipment, and your father will be receiving a bill for the broom you broke!" At every word the Flying instructor's voice grew louder and angrier and Harry was impressed when Malfoy replied instead of cowing immediately.

"But it wasn't me! Potter did something to my broom, a blind boy shouldn't be on a broom anyway! Wait till my father hears you've got me doing servant's work!" The angry retort might have been more impressive if it hadn't been wheezily whispered followed by a pained groan from the angry boy. The other boy kept up the argument as they made their way off the pitch and up to the castle, interrupted every few moments by another pained groan. The class was dismissed as Madam Hooch led the two boys up to the Castle.

Harry was grateful when Terry caught up to the trio and handed Harry his cane, he had stumbled twice on the uneven ground already, his balance a little wobbly still from the eventful ending to the broom ride. With his cane in hand, Harry felt better already and by the time the small group made it to the Hospital Wing doors he had been debating asking if he could go to the Library instead.

His decision was made for him when the doors opened and a short witch made her way over to them, immediately guiding the two boys onto beds in the large room. The Hospital Wing was large, filled with beds and shelves interspersed through the room that held potions and bandages and some metal implements that looked more like torture devices than medical to Harry.

"What happened to them then, Rolanda?" The shorter witch asked as she waved her wand in a complicated pattern over Harry first and then the groaning Malfoy, runes and lines of magic appearing over the both of them that Harry couldn't decipher.

"Mr Malfoy decided to attempt to ram Mr Potter, however Mr Potter managed to land safely after coming out of a dangerous spin. Mr Malfoy crashed his broom," Here the Flying instructor had to take a deep breath and Harry absently noticed her fists had clenched at the description of the broom. "And landed on his back, I believe he is only winded but wanted to check with you first, Madam Pomfrey." The short witch, Madam Pomfrey, nodded as she continued to cast spells across the two of them, examining the results and humming before she handed Malfoy a small potion bottle from a pocket on her apron.

"Drink this Mr Malfoy, you're only winded, a little bruising but it should fade by tomorrow. I take it you have already assigned punishment for his foolhardy behaviour?" At Hooch's nod the Matron continued. "Then you are free to go Mr Malfoy, I have a few questions for Mr Potter, unless you need him, Madam Hooch?"

"No no, he is all yours Matron. Come along Mr Malfoy, I think a word with your Head of House is needed." Hooch led a scowling and muttering Malfoy from the Hospital Wing and only once the doors had closed with a heavy thud, did the Matron turn to Harry again.

"Well, I must say Mr Potter, I expected you in here sooner, though perhaps not because of a flying incident." At Harry's confused expression the witch sighed and sat down on a stool next to his bed. "Mr Potter, I am sure you have a question you would like to ask me?"

Harry was confused and wondered if perhaps this was a test, what would he need to ask a Nurse?

"No Madam Pomfrey, I don't think so, I feel fine, can I leave now?" He asked tentatively, half lifting himself from the bed as he did. The Matron seemed surprised but nodded and stood up.

"Very well, you seem fine, and Filius let us know about your magical expression being normal for you, I have some ideas on it, but I won't pry. But Mr Potter, my door is always open if you have any questions for me." The Matron handed him his cane and he left the Hospital Wing, though his steps were a little slower than normal as he made his way to the end of the corridor and wondered where he should go now.

His rumbling stomach answered that question, and he found the Hall filled with students, though a hush fell over them as he first rounded the doors and made his way to the Ravenclaw table. The tap tap of his cane echoes through the Hall and only when he sat next to Terry at the table did conversation resume around him.

"Are you alright mate?" Terry asked as Harry made himself a sandwich from what he thought was ham and cheese.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just got a bit dizzy from the spinning." Harry took a bite from the sandwich as he felt the Susan and Hannah approach from the Hufflepuff table.

"Oh are you okay Harry? We all saw when Malfoy tried to crash into you, it was terrible!" Susan gripped his arm tightly as she asked him and though he nodded that he was fine, she didn't let go until Neville joined them. He was smiling widely and was quick to explain the reason for his absence that morning.

"Apparently one of the teachers noticed something with my old wand and spoke to my Gran about it, so she took me to Ollivanders this morning and he said that it was damaged by… well it was damaged, so I got a new wand. Look." Neville waved his new wand excitedly and Harry was pleased to note that the silver of the wand merged happily with Neville's own magic. He was less pleased when Neville's excited waving let out a stream of sparks that ignited the remains of his sandwich. Though it did give him an excuse to try out a new charm he had been reading about.

While Susan and Hannah waved at the fire and scolded Neville, Terry laughed as Harry drew his wand and with a whispered "Gelidum Pruina", frost spread across his plate, snuffing out the flames. It was the first time he had tried casting the spell and he was pleased with the result, the frost melted quickly in the warm Hall, though the puddle it left on his plate was a little annoying, he was still hungry.

"A most impressive demonstration of the Frost charm, Mr Potter." Harry started as he noticed Professor Sprout had walked over to see the cause of the commotion, just in time to see him extinguish Neville's accidental flames. "And Mr Longbottom, please contain your excitement, for the sake of Mr Potter's lunch if nothing else." Harry couldn't help but laugh at this as Neville nodded and put his wand away.

Professor Sprout waved her wand, and a tendril of her brown magic evaporated the small puddle on Harry's plate before she walked back up the Head table. Neville took the opportunity to show the group that he had decided to follow Harry's example and wore a shoulder holster for his wand as well.

"When I mentioned to my Gran that Harry had a shoulder holster, she said it was smart and that my dad had used one as well, so she bought one from Ollivanders as well!" Neville explained as they made their way out of the Hall and up towards the Charms corridor, Terry had heard there were empty classrooms there that Professor Flitwick didn't mind students using for practicing spells and Neville was eager to try out his new wand properly.

The room they settled on was towards the far end of the Charms corridor, it was a little dusty and had chairs and desks stacked along the walls but the large open space in the centre of the room was ideal for practicing spells, which Neville immediately began to do.

The new wand definitely improved his performance, and though it still took him a few attempts, with Susan and Harry's help Neville managed to master the spells they had learnt that week in only a few hours. Once Neville was caught up, Harry took a seat to the side as Terry and Susan practiced their Transfigurations. Harry was content to watch his friends and absently fell into his breathing exercises, he smiled as he watched Terry and Susan compete to see who could make the longest thread from a single match, their magics moved differently. Terry's magic seemed to layer the outside of the match and force the wood to change, moulding it to his will. While Susan's was gentler, her yellow magic seeped into the wood of the match and changed it from within, her Transfiguration took a little longer, but she did end up with a longer thread in the end, much to Terry's annoyance.

Harry didn't even notice that he was gathering magic into his hand until he felt his cane warm, he had been twisting it in his grip as he was wont to do, and only now did he notice that his magic had been gathering in his hand and, with no other route available, it had been passing into his cane. The top third of the cane was now gently glowing in his sight, a soft green slowly spreading down the length of it. He watched as his magic suffused the length of the cane, sinking into it, it looked similar to Susan's Transfiguration, though his magic didn't leave him in strands but a steady river that flowed from his hand down the length of wood. He had no interest in changing his cane, in fact the very thought of it changing or breaking was repugnant to him. He stopped the flow of his magic into the wood, switching hands to grip his cane with his left and shaking his right one as wisps of mint drifted from it.

He was shaken from his observations when Terry asked what Harry wanted to practice, and after having seen some older Gryffindors, twins he thought they might have been, throwing awful smelling pellets at each other on the way to the pitch that morning, Harry had the perfect spell. It was listed in Advanced Charm Casting and was a little more difficult than the other charms he had tried so far, but with help from Terry and Neville in the form of balled up scraps of parchment, Harry soon had it mastered.

"Waddiwasi!" Harry cried as another ball of parchment was thrown at him, before it stopped in mid-air, strands of green latching onto it before it rocketed backwards, smacking into Neville's forehead and crumpling painlessly, though his impression of a dying soldier was impressive as he collapsed crying out to the applause and laughter of the others.

The five friends were soon alerted to the time by Neville's stomach gurgling loudly, much to his embarrassment, though he wasn't alone in his hunger and the group made their way down to dinner.

That evening Harry and Terry were performing their now nightly ritual of testing each other on Transfiguration and Charms when Oliver Rivers asked if he could join them. He was quiet but friendly and soon the three were asking as complicated a question as they could think of to trip the others up. Michael and Anthony scoffed at their antics, but the three boys went to sleep that night with broad smiles on their faces.

Harry was particularly pleased, though Flying could have gone better, his first week of learning magic had gone very well so far and his early concerns over casting magic and losing his sight seemed to be needless. Harry fell asleep watching wisps of green light drift from his fingertips, vague shapes and swirls floating above him as his sight dimmed and he surrendered into Morpheus' embrace.

A/N Hello everyone! Wow over 200 followers and 130 favourites is amazing! You all keep surprising me with your support, and I couldn't be more pleased! Really thank you to everyone who has supported the story so far, we have now covered most of the character intros and the world building.

Time will begin to move more quickly now, next chapter will cover up until Halloween night, and then after that will be Halloween through to the Winter Holidays. I anticipate that there will only be another three chapters for the First Year with one to cover the summer before Second Year.

So again, ripples are being caused by Harry's abilities and again, the differences between this and Canon will only increase as time goes on so be warned.

Please let me know if you like the chapter, and if you don't then let me know why so I can try and work on it.

I have had questions on Harry's vision/eyes and why an alternative like Alastor Moody's eye hasn't been offered to him, so I will say here – In this story Moody's eye in particular is a very rare piece of magic, and although an eye could likely be regrown or fixed, Harry's eyes were damaged by a combination of VERY powerful magic and dark magic. As Dumbledore likes to say "all magic leaves traces".

Thank you for your continued support!

Daedalus