A\N There were some weird formatting issues when this was first uploaded, I've since corrected those but please report if there are any more missing line/page breaks.

Chapter 13

Harry had expected to be sent to his cupboard as soon as he stepped into the house, so he was confused when his aunt placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him up the stairs instead. He was guided up to the landing and then to the right towards Dudley's second bedroom (which was really just a guest room that Dudley had dumped his unwanted birthday gifts in) and when he stepped through the open doorway he was stunned for a moment.

Gone were the boxes filled with broken or unwanted toys that had previously filled the room, instead there was a wooden desk now placed against the wall on the left side of the room with his old Braille typewriter sat proudly upon it and a stack of parchment and paper beside it. Opposite the desk was a plain single bed, a wooden dressing table settled against the foot of the bed with a small lamp on top of it and filling the remainder of the wall between the dresser and the door was a tall bookcase already half filled with books and tomes.

"Vernon and I have had words and he agreed that it was well overdue for you to move out of your previous room and into something more fitting for a growing boy your age. Now the furniture is just temporary, we can replace anything you don't like, and we need to get you a chair for the desk, but what do you think?" Petunia asked as he stepped slowly into the room. Harry was wise enough to read between the lines and knew that this was almost certainly something his aunt had forced his uncle into doing. She had struggled to ensure he was treated, if not fairly then at least not poorly, ever since he had been taken in by them, eventually Vernon had settled on ignoring Harry's existence which was a fine compromise in Harry's opinion.

"It's perfect, thank you Aunt Petunia!" Harry threw his arms around the older woman and held her in a tight hug for a few seconds before he stepped away and turned back to his room. His room.

"Well I'll leave you to unpack and get settled, you should be able to slip your trunk under your bed once its empty. We will go into town tomorrow and pick up a chair and anything else you need." Petunia closed the door and the light creaking of the staircase let Harry know she had returned downstairs. He could faintly hear the deep rumbling sound of Vernon's voice from the living room which was directly below Harry's new room, though the large man had nothing on Hagrid's thunderous tones.

He quickly unpacked his trunk, putting his folded clothes into the dresser, making sure the braille labels his aunt had stitched into the collars, waists and ankles of the various items were at the top of each item. Then he moved his trunk over to the bookcase that stretched to the ceiling and began to brush his fingers across the spines of the books already stacked on the lower shelves. Some of the books were familiar to him; an Oxford Dictionary, a Thesaurus, the Encyclopaedia set his aunt had gotten him on his eighth birthday and a copy of Brother's Grimm Folk Tales that they had found in a second-hand store in London several years ago. But then there were other books that were decidedly more magical in nature; Spellman's Syllabary, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander, Introduction to Alchemy by Jean Duval and a few others on the highest shelves he couldn't quite reach. He unpacked his schoolbooks onto the lowest shelf and then tucked his trunk under his bed, it slid under neatly and then he was finished.

His inner Ravenclaw took control and he immediately grabbed one of the new books from his bookshelf. He had been unable to find much information about Nicholas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone in the brief time he had been able to spend researching in the Hogwarts Library after Headmaster Dumbledore had told him of the man and his creation, but he had been able to find a few scant references to him. In one he learned that the man was often known by the moniker of 'The Immortal Alchemist', so he couldn't help his interest in the book he now had access to.

To his dismay, he realised that the book was well beyond his current understanding before he had finished the first page.

Alchemy is the art of true change. Many argue that Alchemy could be described as a simple combination of Potions and Transfiguration. They are fools to the last. Alchemy is its own distinct discipline, though it does use some methods and techniques which are also used in other disciplines.

The goal of Alchemy is to understand, and through this understanding enact change. Change of a metal from lead or tin to silver or gold, change of dead flesh into a living body, change of energy from one form to another. A Master Alchemist can create one of the pinnacles of Alchemy; the Philosopher's Stone as it is most commonly known, tangible evidence of their greater understanding of the world and its forces.

Alchemy's practical techniques are known as Transmutation, the method of changing an object's nature permanently. Using a combination of Arithmancy to calculate the rate of decay of the object's state of flux, Runes to stabilise and direct the flow of magic and wandwork to apply the matrix to enact the change required.

Many historical groups have produced their own techniques for practical Alchemy, from the Taoist groups who are famed for creating "drinkable gold", to Hermes Trismegistos and his work in the Middle East and, more recently, the so-called Latin Alchemy which combined techniques from other older groups in the 12th Century.

Most of that was lost on Harry, though he had heard several mentions of Arithmancy and Runes among the older students and knew they were among the elective subjects they could choose from for their third year. With a disappointed sigh he slid the heavy book back onto the shelf and instead pulled out Spellman's Syllabary which he took with him as he sat back on the bed and opened the book to the first page.

This book seemed more his level, it was an introductory piece on Runes and their uses as well as the basics of how to decipher and translate the meanings of the most common alphabets used.

Runes are symbols first and foremost. They are the remnants of languages that have been or were used for hundreds if not thousands of years. Specifically, languages or symbols that were used in association with magic. Some cultures separated symbols from language wholly, such as the Britons who used symbols only for specific meanings and used a different alphabet for their written word. Others allowed the two to blend together, such as the Norse who had meanings associated with each of the characters in their language of Elder Futhark as well as a few symbols, often combinations of these characters, which had their own specific meanings. The Egyptians are another example of this, they used Hieroglyphs in their writing, but they understood the power of language and also attached various meanings to the Hieroglyphs that allowed for a single string of Hieroglyphs to have several potential meanings.

Wizards and Witches can use these symbols to direct and interact with magic to achieve extraordinary effects such as interpreting magic in an understandable format such as Healers do, creating long lasting magical effects over an area with Wards, or imbuing objects with magical characteristics when Enchanting. Runes can also be used for translating ancient artifacts; scrolls, tablets, or tomes which help our understanding of ancient cultures and in certain professions can be very useful or even lifesaving.

Harry was quickly enthralled by the book and spent the next hour reading through the first few chapters, whoever had translated the book had either been blind or had been very considerate as each rune the book covered had a description of how it looked as well as a large imprint in the page in the shape of the rune to allow readers to run their fingers across it and learn its shape much like they would the Braille lettering around it. He had only covered two of the runes, the descriptions and meanings were long and detailed, when he was interrupted by a knock on his door before it opened gently.

"Harry dear, dinner is ready." Petunia said as she opened the door fully letting the mouth-watering scent of hot gravy and vegetables waft into the room. Harry's stomach growled at the reminder of how long it had been since he had eaten on the train and he quickly closed the book he was reading and made his way over to the door, grabbing his cane as he slipped out and followed his aunt down the stairs.

Vernon and Dudley were already seated at the table, their plates piled high with roasted beef and potatoes with a few carrots and peas that Dudley was doing his best to avoid. Harry took his seat silently and was surprised at the lack of insult or even comment at his return after his year away. He decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth though and tucked into the more reasonable portion of food that his aunt placed in front of him. His aunt sat down with a smaller portion of food and the four of them ate in relative silence, interrupted only by Vernon's occasional snort or cough as he did his best to fill his mouth with greater and greater amounts of food, an impressive but disgusting effort that ended with him wiping a finger through the dregs of gravy on his plate in an attempt to not let a single morsel escape him.

"Well, that wasn't bad Petunia." Vernon grunted out as he heaved himself to his feet, his chair creaking with relief as the large man left the kitchen and waddled into the living room without another word. Dudley soon followed his fathers lead, leaving just Harry and Petunia at the table. Petunia quickly finished her meal and collected the plates, taking them to the sink to begin washing up. Harry helped with the drying before his aunt gave him a tight hug and sent him up to wash and go to bed, promising they would go out the next day to pick up a chair and some new clothes as she tugged on the sleeve of his shirt that stopped a few inches shy of his wrists.

The first week of the summer holidays was a peaceful one for Harry, his aunt had taken him into town to pick up some new clothes, a little larger so he could grow into them, and a nice wooden chair for his desk. His uncle and cousin had both been ignoring him completely since he had returned which suited Harry just fine and he had enjoyed his new freedom greatly. He had noticed something a little odd when his aunt had taken him shopping though, his sight had seemed different, and it had taken him most of the day to realise what it was. The colours in his sight were all duller, not by much but enough for him to notice when he compared them with his memories of Hogwarts or even Diagon Alley. It didn't affect him overly, apart from a faint sense of longing to return to those places of magic and colour.

Towards the end of the first week Harry did begin to feel a little disappointed that none of his friends had written to him yet, but he was able to ignore those feelings, focussing instead on completing his summer assignments. Professor Dumbledore hadn't been kidding when he said he was being given extra work. He had been given at least one extra essay to write per subject, with Professor Snape assigning three and Professor McGonagall assigning two. On his breaks, between working away at the large list of assignments he had been given, he read through more of the Runes book he had found in his bookcase. It was very interesting and he had already decided that he would definitely be taking the subject when he was given the choice the following year.

Only after the first week was spent and he was nearing the end of his second week did the whispers of doubt in his mind begin to find purchase. Familiar words from his younger years echoing in his head; who would want to be friends with the blind kid? The weird kid? He did his best to ignore them, throwing himself into his studies and his newfound interest in Runes, but at night when he lay in bed, he could do little to fend off the doubts as he drifted into fitful sleep.

He was awoken on his fifteenth day back in Privet Drive by his aunt's familiar knock on the door as she made her way downstairs to begin breakfast for Vernon before he left for work. He waited until Vernon had left for work and Dudley had gone to his friend Piers house to "do homework" before he joined his aunt in the kitchen for a quick bowl of cereal. Then he was back upstairs and working his way through the last of his Potions essays, the familiar clicking of his Braille typewriter was comforting and he had just finished his conclusion on the various effects of Porcupine quills in potions when his aunt once again knocked on his door. Usually, she only disturbed him for lunch, he often got carried away and lost track of time and without her reminders he would have missed several lunches over the past fortnight, but he was fairly sure that it wasn't midday just yet.

"Harry, are you okay in there?" Petunia asked as she pushed the door open a fraction. "You have a visitor." The door opened the rest of the way as Harry turned to face it, his hand swiping past his face as he made his now instinctive check to make sure his glasses were on. He was shocked to see stood just behind his aunt was Professor Flitwick, the older wizard was wearing a suit and smiled widely upon seeing Harry sat in the room.

"Hello Harry, how are you?" Flitwick asked as he stood in the doorway, his eyes darting quickly around the room before returning to Harry's face. Harry was surprised to see the professor but pleased as he was a link to the world of magic that seemed so far away from Privet Drive.

"I'm okay thanks Professor, but what – I mean it's great to see you sir, but what are you doing here?" Harry asked curiously as the Charms Master turned to face his aunt.

"Mrs Dursley, could I trouble you for a cup of that delicious tea I had the last time I was here?" Professor Flitwick asked and as Petunia nodded and headed down to the kitchen, he turned back to Harry and drew his wand.

For a brief moment a spike of fear shot through Harry as the professor swished the wand through the air, but no spell was launched at him and instead a series of runes flashed into view in his sight. He didn't recognise most of them, but one did stick with him as it was the first in the Syllabary that he had found; Ansuz, the rune for communication and knowledge. Once the last of the runes had faded from view, the professor frowned and muttered something before turning back to Harry with a sigh.

"I am sorry Harry, but I had to check there wasn't an enchantment or curse on the room or you. To answer your question; I am here to check on you. You have several friends worried about you, it appears someone or something has been intercepting your mail, Harry." Professor Flitwick explained as he inspected the inside of the room, he seemed particularly interested in the bookcase but then, he was the head of Ravenclaw house. "I was in Germany when I received word from several of your classmates and a mutual friend of ours, that you hadn't been replying to any letters. I decided to write my own letter to you and placed an enchantment on it to track it's progress, it made it all the way to your street before it was intercepted and after that I couldn't track it anymore."

"Wait so someone is … stealing my mail?" Harry asked in confusion. "What could someone want my letters for?"

"An excellent question Harry, and one I will ponder on, luckily there is a temporary workaround to this problem." The charms master reached into a pocket and pulled out a plump stack of envelopes which he offered to Harry. "I have taken on the role of post owl for now, though I think we will need to find a better alternative soon. My schedule does not become quiet enough during the summer that I could do this weekly for you I'm afraid."

Harry smiled and thanked the professor as he flipped through the envelopes, each one with a name printed in Braille so he could tell who had written them.

"Now why don't we join your aunt downstairs for tea, and we can discuss your plans for the summer." Professor Flitwick led the way downstairs and into the kitchen where Petunia had arranged a large teapot and three teacups around it, there was even half a sponge cake that had been saved from Dudley's appetite somehow. They all sat down and as Professor Flitwick complimented his aunt on her garden, Harry took the chance to read through the letters. There were four in total; Terry, Susan, Neville and Castamir had all written one to him and each one had two sheets of parchment, one with the written letter and the other with the Braille printed on for him.

Hi Harry,

I'm not sure if this will get through to you, but my mum has arranged something with your aunt for next week, so I'll be seeing you soon anyway. I hope you're okay, feels weird being away from Hogwarts doesn't it? Not sure what else I should write, but if my mum asks I asked about your feelings or something, okay?

Stay out of trouble!

Terry

Hi Harry,

What's going on with your letters? Me and Hannah have sent you three and you haven't replied to a single one, are you okay? I hope you have a good reason for not replying because otherwise we'll be having words mister!

I hope you've had a good few weeks at home, me and Hannah have spent most of it doing our homework but we're all done now (finally!). We were planning to head into Diagon to pick up school supplies with Hannah's mum the day after our letters turn up, would you like to join us?

Hope you're okay!

Susan & Hannah

Hi Harry,

This is the second letter I've sent, but Hannah said something about your letters being blocked? Either way, I hope you're having a good summer so far. I'm heading down to Argentina next week to visit Uncle Algie, I'll try and pick up a souvenir for you!

Be safe!

Neville Longbottom

Harry,

I sent a letter that was found and opened by someone that wasn't you, I put a charm on most of my letters to prevent that so the letter was destroyed when it was opened but it's still a bad sign. I've let Filius know which is likely how you will have received this. Be careful Harry, it's a risk to steal Owl post, if you're caught it's a year in Azkaban so whoever is doing this either doesn't care or isn't worried about being charged. You need to be careful, don't leave the house alone if you can help it. As our mutual friend would say, CONSTANT VIGILANCE.

It can wait until I see you next, but after hearing about your escapades this year I thought you might appreciate a little extra teaching, nothing particularly strenuous but you should know how to identify curses and wards at the least. Pop in the next time you're in Diagon.

Yours sincerely,

Castamir Leventis

The Copper Artificer

" – ake is just delicious, I don't normally have a sweet tooth, but it really is lovely, did you bake it yourself?" Professor Flitwick asked as his aunt … giggled?

"Oh it's just an old family recipe, the secret is coconut shavings." Petunia explained as she cut another slice of the cake and wrapped it in some kitchen paper before placing it in front of the Charms master. "Here, for later."

"You are a most gracious host Mrs Dursley, Mr Dursley is a very lucky man." Professor Flitwick smiled as he tucked the wrapped treat into hidden pocket inside his jacket. "Now, Harry would you like me to relay any messages to your friends or our mutual friend in Diagon Alley?"

"Could you just tell them that there is a problem with me receiving letters for now? I'm seeing Terry next week so I can pass anything else on through him." Harry paused as he remembered a request he had received the previous year when he had first visited Diagon Alley. "And … well could you pass a message onto Mr Ollivander please sir?" He asked nervously.

"Ollivander? Why? Is something wrong with your wand Harry?" Professor Flitwick asked in surprise and concern; a damaged wand could be very dangerous.

"No nothing like that, Mr Ollivander asked me to come by his shop this summer, but if I can't send or receive letters then I won't be able to visit anytime soon. Could you let him know?" Harry asked, he didn't want to upset or annoy the wandmaker. It seemed a bad idea to upset the man who made wands for most of Britain.

"Garrick asked you to visit him? Well now my curiosity is piqued! Mrs Dursley, would you mind if I took Harry for a quick visit to Diagon Alley? I could have him back before dinner, I'm sure." Filius asked Harry's aunt who sighed at Harry's pleading expression before nodding her assent.

"Yes yes you can go, but you stay with Professor Flitwick the entire time and do as he says, okay?" Petunia shouted to him as he rushed up to his room to grab his wand holster and cane, nearly tumbling back down the stairs as he misjudged the second step from the top. He came down at a slightly more sensible pace and gave his aunt a hug as he agreed to her conditions.

The apparition to Diagon Alley felt a little smoother to Harry on that occasion, perhaps a combination of experience and his anticipation of returning to the world of magic helped. Either way he didn't need to stand still heaving in breaths to stave off the nauseating dizziness, so he was pleased.

He imagined that he and the professor must have looked an odd pair walking down the main thoroughfare of Diagon Alley; a blind boy with his cane tapping absently on the cobbles before him and a short wizard walking beside him, pointing out things that surely a blind boy wouldn't be able to comment on.

Ollivanders' was empty when they first approached and as Professor Flitwick opened the door, the little bell chiming above, Harry half wondered if perhaps the wand maker was away. Then a crashing sound echoed from the depths of the shop, the clattering of many boxes falling, and a few choice curses followed before the wandmaker stepped into Harry's awareness. The tall man hadn't changed much, his silvery magic drifting like mist from his body as he approached the front of the shop.

"Ahhh Filius and young Mr Potter, Acacia and Dragon Heartstring eleven inches and Rowan and Phoenix Feather twelve inches, yes?" The wandmaker asked as he leaned over the counter to inspect the two visitors.

"Yes very impressive Garrick, I'm sure Mr Potter is suitably impressed with your parlour trick." Professor Flitwick chuckled as he stepped up to the counter, a series of invisible steps appearing in Harry's sight as the short wizard walked up until he was able to sit on the countertop.

"An old man has to take his fun where he can Filius." Ollivander said as he patted the professor on the arm and gestured for Harry to step closer. "Now, I take it you are here about my offer last year Mr Potter? Unless you have managed to damage your wand in the brief time you've borne it?" The previously gentle wisps of silver sharpened into cruel jagged edges at the mention of damage to a wand but softened again at Harry's quick denial.

"No no my wand is fine." He drew it from its holster beneath his left arm and showed it to the wandmaker who took it with a careful hand, bringing it up to his ear for a moment before he nodded with a satisfied smile and handed it back to Harry. "I came because you asked me to last year, something about my cane?"

"Excellent, yes well I suppose I should explain myself. As a wandmaker I am particularly sensitive to the presence of materials that are suitable for focuses. Does Hogwarts teach you about focuses still?" Ollivander sighed in disappointment at Harry's nervous shake of the head. "Very well, a brief history lesson then; magical focuses are objects that allow a witch or wizard to channel and direct their magic more easily. We use wands for this, as do most countries, as they are the most versatile and stable focuses that we have found. Up until a century ago, many mages would wield a stave as well as a wand, the stave was seen as a mark of distinction, only those with great skill and focus could use one for anything beyond the most basic of spells and for many centuries they were a sign of skill. However, recently the stave or staff suffered from a decline in popularity, the connotation of weakness in needing a staff to walk with meant that many mages refused to use them, they didn't want to be seen as infirm or weak. There are, of course, a few exceptions to this; an Auror I know of wields a stave to devastating effect, but he is seen as nearly crippled by many who discount it." Harry smiled as he realised he knew the Auror Ollivander was describing. "There is also a wizard who uses a cane due to an injury he claims he received while imperiused during the Blood War." Professor Flitwick twitched his wand at the mention of this and a rippling shell of blue magic covered the entrance of the shop.

"Garrick do not involve Mr Potter in anything to do with that man." Flitwick warned the wandmaker as he kept his eyes pointed at the door of the shop as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment.

"Peace Filius, I do not intend to set the two against each other, though I doubt it would take much. No, this other wizard who uses a cane sought out a wandmaker from Europe, a French witch of lesser skill, to craft their cane and has since stated to many that a stave is a much lesser instrument to a wand. Going so far as to claim that only those who are injured like he claims to be should use one, he even disparaged my own work for Alastor." Ollivander explained, his anger at the insult to his work evident in his voice and in the movement of his magic as once again it sharpened and bristled.

"But what does this have to do with me, sir?" Harry asked as he did his best to absorb the information he'd been told, making a mental note to look up some of it at a later date.

"Isn't it obvious? I want to craft you a stave Mr Potter." Ollivander said, gesturing to the cane Harry held loosely in his hand. "That cane is made of Rowan wood, remarkably similar to the wood your wand is made from in fact, and it has been soaked in your magic for several years. Why I don't think I've ever seen a better specimen for crafting a magical focus from, it is already so deeply linked to you and your magic that I doubt it will take long to craft at all."

"But, I'm sorry Mr Ollivander but surely crafting me a ... stave? Surely that won't help the idea that only those who are weak would use them?" Harry asked, after all how would a blind boy using one improve the image?

"Weak? You believe you are weak Mr Potter? No, besides it is not strength that a stave requires, it is skill. Skill and focus. You have those in spades Mr Potter, defeating a Troll in your first year? Adapting a charm on the fly to burn through a magical creature's own resistance is not an easy feat." The wandmaker leaned closer to Harry and pointed at his face with a long finger. "I did not tell you last year, I did not want to upset you, but the Phoenix who's feather rests in your wand, he gave one other. And that wand was used for great things, terrible undoubtedly, but great. I have no doubt we can expect great things from you as well Mr Potter, truly great things."

The blood drained from Harry's face as he felt his breath catch in his throat. His wand was like Voldemort's? His wand, the length of warm wood that let him conjure such fantastic magic, it was like the one that killed his parents? He felt bile rising as his mouth filled with the acrid taste and his hands shook. He couldn't understand what kind of sick joke it was, that his wand was like Voldemort's. For a moment ash filled his mouth and darkness swallowed him as he felt the pure radiating hatred and malice that the wraith had been filled with surround him again.

"-arry! Harry remember your breathing, in for five and then out for five. Feel for your magic Harry." The voice sounded far away, like it was calling out from behind a thick curtain, but just the mention of his breathing had him slipping instinctively into the meditative breathing he had been taught the previous year. At first it was difficult, his chest felt tight, it was hard to draw in air, but as his magic flowed and he felt the comforting warmth filling him, his breaths came easier and easier.

When his breathing settled and the painful memories were subdued, he realised that he was sat on the floor, Professor Flitwick stood next to him and Mr Ollivander stood in front of him holding a glass of water.

"Here Mr Potter, drink this it will help. I am very sorry, I did not intend to upset you, but I thought you deserved the truth." Ollivander offered the glass as he apologised, his silver magic listless and limp around the wandmaker. Harry accepted the drink and took several long swigs of it before he responded.

"It-it's okay Mr Ollivander, its not your fault I just… I can't believe my wand is like … his." Harry explained as he reached a hand up to brush against the object in question, sheathed under his arm.

"Just because they share a few similarities, does not mean they are the same Mr Potter. Your wand will excel at defensive magic more than any other, your wards and barriers will be especially strong. But it is not the wand that casts the spells Mr Potter, it is the wizard. It is you. I do not doubt what I said, I expect great things from you Mr Potter." Ollivander stated as he took back the empty glass and set it on the counter behind him. "Now, back to the original purpose of your visit. I would like to craft a stave for you, using your cane. It will take me a few days; you would need to return at the end of next week to collect it. I should warn you Mr Potter, you cannot use wand movements with a stave, I did not exaggerate when I said it requires great skill and focus. I do not expect you to be able to use it properly for many years, but eventually, with practice, you will be able to use it alongside your wand to great effect, I am sure of it. But it is your choice, I will not force this upon you."

Harry took a moment to consider the wandmakers offer, his hand tightening around his cane as he thought about it. The image of Alastor Moody flashed into his mind, his eye burning with golden magic. That was a man who had fought the worst things that could be thrown at him and survived, a man who could protect his friends and family.

"Okay I'll do it Mr Ollivander." He said as he relaxed his grip and offered the cane to the older man. "I could do with something to use instead until I collect it though, could I pick something up here in Diagon Alley?"

As soon as the cane left his grasp Harry felt a pang of sudden loss, he had used the same cane ever since his aunt had brought it for him on his eighth birthday and knowing he would be without it even for a few days was an uncomfortable thought. Ollivander took the cane with a careful grip and stepped back around the counter to lean it gently against one of the precariously stacked piles of wand boxes.

"I have something of my uncle's that you could use for now, its of a similar size so you shouldn't have much difficulty with it." The wandmaker said as he pulled his own wand from his sleeve and whipped it in the direction of the back of the building, a spark of silver magic shooting from the tip of his wand and disappearing into the depths of the store. Only a few seconds passed before the spark returned, a plain wooden cane following behind it and landing just in front of Harry. "There you go, you should be able to use that until you can return."

The wandmaker asked Harry several questions before he would let the pair leave; would Harry like a metal head fitted to the cane? Did he have a preference on the runic language used on the outside of the focus? Then he took several measurements with a floating tape, even measuring the circumference of Harry's head before finally letting him leave with a promise to be done within a week.

"Now this is dangerous and difficult magic Harry, but you have shown a talent for it already in your adventures in June so I will be showing you the most basic techniques for identifying magic, you can already detect its presence better than most." Castamir nodded to Professor Flitwick who lifted a silk sheet to reveal a tray with several strange items sat upon it. There were four objects, each a different shape and size and each had the glow of magic upon them. The first was a small metal thimble, it was the least magical of the items with only a dull yellow sheen to it. Taking up the middle of the tray was a pair of goblets, one silver and the other gold, the magic on the goblets was stronger than the thimble and a midnight blue with several symbols swimming across the metal of both of the goblets. The last item was a small box with a plain looking silver ring inside, the magic on the ring was bronze and dark with a faint halo of purple surrounding it, contracting and expanding as it spun softly around the ring.

"Each of these items is enchanted in some way, nothing too complex, but you are going to examine each one and tell me your best guess at what the enchantment is, what its purpose is and, more importantly, what triggers the magic on it." Castamir explained as he gestured to the tray. Harry frowned as he looked at the items laid out before him, he only knew a handful of runes and only in the first language his book covered; Elder Futhark. He doubted he would be able to decipher much at all about the magic on these items, but he would give it a try if only to avoid having to admit defeat at something magical. He reached a hand up to his holster and drew his wand before pausing as he remembered the warning they had been given before leaving Hogwarts; underage students were forbidden from using magic when out of school unless in serious danger. His brief expression of annoyance must have been spotted by Castamir who patted him on the shoulder. "You don't need to worry about the underage magic laws here Harry, the Trace won't be able to alert the Ministry while you're in my shop, I have enchantments on every brick and nail in the place."

Harry wanted to believe the man who had so far been honest and friendly to him, but still hesitated in actually casting any magic until Professor Flitwick affirmed his friend's words.

"Castamir is not wrong Harry, while you are wise to avoid triggering the Trace, it is a relatively weak charm and the wards here are more than enough to prevent it from reaching the next door let alone the Office of Improper Use of Magic." Flitwick assured Harry before sighing as Castamir preened visibly at the compliment.

With his worries assuaged, Harry turned his attention back to the tray and the first item on it, he didn't know any divinatory magic nor any technique or other spell to help him in his efforts and for several moments he simply observed it, his mind racing for some scrap of knowledge relevant to identifying magic. Even De la Rue's book hadn't mentioned anything about the actual process of identifying magic, but he must have known of a method as he was able to defeat or sneak past many enchantments and wards in his time.

Harry spent almost fifteen minutes with his attention wholly focussed on the thimble before he finally let out a loud sigh and slumped on the stool Castamir had offered him when they first entered the shop. He opened his mouth, ready to admit defeat or at least ask for a hint, just as Castamir let out a mirrored sigh of disappointment and dug a hand into his trouser pocket before pulling out a gleaming Galleon and flipping it across the countertop to Professor Flitwick who snatched it from the air and tucked it into his own pocket with a smirk.

"Wha- what was that for?" Harry asked his disappointment suppressed by his curiosity for the moment.

"Well Harry, Castamir here thought that you would take a more similar approach to his own when he was first taught how to detect and discern magic. I had more faith in you and suggested you would ask for help within half an hour unlike my esteemed friend who spent the better part of a day poking and prodding at things with his wand before finally admitting he had no clue what he was doing to his teacher." Flitwick admitted, grinning broadly at Harry's look of shock and then laughing when Harry turned the look onto Castamir who shrugged sheepishly for a moment before laughing as well.

"So you knew I wouldn't be able to tell anything about these things then? This was a test or something?" Harry asked, a shade of annoyance creeping into his tone as he struggled not to pout at the two older wizards who were both still grinning.

"No not at all Harry, Filius told me a little more of your ability and how it came to be and I truly did not know what you would be able to discern about the magic on the items. I'm sure Filius told you this already but Fulgomancy is different for everyone, some see things, others hear sounds, my own teacher experience magic as a sensation on his skin, needing to be almost touching the magic to detect it. I even knew a woman training to be a curse breaker who could only taste magic, Gabriella Baresi was her name, now there was a woman who could-"

"Castamir enough, the boy doesn't need to hear about your debauched youth." Professor Flitwick interrupted with a stern tone that was betrayed by the slight quirk of his lips as his face fought not to grin. Harry had no such problem and wore a wide smirk as the enchanter coughed and nodded to the short charms teacher.

"Aha true enough, anyway in answer to your question Harry, no I did not know if you would be able to detect the purpose of the magic or not, but it is a tradition to let the apprentice try alone first before you help them. Now tell me, what do you see when you observe these objects? In as much detail as possible please." Castamir leaned against the counter next to him and listened intently as Harry detailed everything he could about his sight, the colours he saw, the way each person had their own unique magic, how it moved and flowed differently and how no two people had the exact same colours to him. He mentioned the symbols he could see in some magic, how some of them were fixed in place and others flowed with the magic. Everything he could think of, he described.

"Interesting, it doesn't sound too dissimilar from my own Fulgomancy, though mine is not as broad ranging, I can only detect magic out to a few meters normally and I don't see colours of magic so much as … waves of it." Castamir explained after Harry had finished, nodding to himself for a moment before he gestured to the tray of items again. "The thimble, you said you could just see that it had magic cast on it, can you tell anything else from it? Is the magic moving in any way? Are there symbols? Does it make you think of anything in particular?"

Harry focussed his awareness onto the little metal thimble again and did his best to observe it, blocking everything else out as best he could. It was small, the metal pitted just like his aunt's were, and the magic on it was a dull yellow, not bright but not too dark either. The colour didn't change anywhere across the thimble, some magic had tones and shades running throughout, but this was solid all the way across, and it didn't move, it didn't flow like he had seen other magic do. It was fixed in place. Solid. Firm. Like the magic wasn't on top of the thimble or layered across it like other enchantments. This magic was the metal. Unyielding. It was made to hold firm. To be unbreakable? No, to be unbreachable. The image of a needle slipping and piercing the soft flesh of a woman's thumb as she sewed slipped across his mind, a bead of crimson welling up where the needle met skin.

"The thimble … it's enchanted to stop things piercing skin?" He asked as he furrowed his brow in confusion. That was already the purpose of a thimble, why would anyone enchant a metal thimble to perform its own purpose?

"Well done! Yes it's an odd little thing isn't it? I bought it at an auction in Edinburgh, some old witch had a terrible fear of stabbing herself while sewing and evidently thought a metal thimble alone wasn't enough, so she enchanted it to be unpierceable. What's annoying is I haven't been able to figure out the enchantment she used, its really rather good work if a little odd." Castamir picked up the little thimble and placed it to one side. "Now how did you work it out? Was there a feeling? An image? A memory?"

"All of them I suppose? I just got this … impression from the magic, like it was hard or fixed in place and the more I thought about it the surer I was until I just got this image of a needle stabbing a woman's finger flash across my mind." Harry answered, elated but confused at the unerringly accurate questions.

"Excellent! You have a knack for this Harry that's for sure. I also get impressions, but mine are a little more specific. This is good, okay quickly try with the goblets, they are more complex." Castamir pointed to the tray again before he was interrupted by a cough from the charms professor who was holding out an open hand. "Oh alright, yes you were right again here take it and remind me to stop gambling with you." Castamir grumbled as he once again pulled out another golden coin and handed it over to Professor Flitwick who pocketed it and nodded with a proud smile in Harry's direction.

The goblets were more difficult, each was clearly enchanted by the same mage but the magic felt different on both. Eventually Harry was able to focus on one at a time and discern more of their properties. The silver goblet's magic flowed strongly across its rim, slowing the deeper into the goblet it settled. There was a single symbol that he recognised swimming within the magic, the one-sided arrow shape of Laguz the rune for water and cleansing. The other symbols were beyond him but the knowledge of Laguz helped, as he studied the magic he felt a faint thirst gather in his mouth. It reminded him of the days he had spent helping his aunt in the garden in the summer before she would give him a glass of ice-cold lemonade as a reward. The image of one of those glasses gathering condensation as it sat in the sun stayed with him as he observed the goblet, but he could discern nothing else.

"Something to do with cold or ice? And water or being clean I think." He offered pointing to the silver goblet.

"A good guess, and not far off in truth. Look at the other goblet first and then I will tell you what they both do." Castamir replied.

The golden goblet was very different, although its magic also flowed, it flowed more slowly the higher up the side of the cup it stretched, swirling rapidly in the depths of the goblet. Harry couldn't recognise any of the runes that covered it, but he did get an odd feeling when he watched the magic. Perhaps because of the thirst its pair had induced, the image of drinking from the golden goblet entered his mind for a moment and as it did he felt a now all too familiar tightening in his chest. His throat closed as he gasped for breath and he felt an awful bitter taste fill his mouth before the sensation fled leaving him sweating and breathing heavily on the stool.

"Deep breaths Harry, it can be a shock when you experience them for the first few times." Castamir patted his shoulder and accepted a bottle of something from Filius, tapping the top with his wand to remove the cap before offering it to Harry's trembling hands. "Here drink this, it will help."

The sweet taste of butterbeer washed away the bitterness in Harry's mouth as he took a tentative sip, followed by several larger swigs as he calmed himself, his heart slowing.

"What was that?" He asked in disgust as he leaned away from the innocent looking goblet on the tray.

"That was a curse. A nasty one, but very simple and very easy to detect. The owner of these goblets was a witch from the 1700's, her husband was a cruel man and one day pushed her too far. She enchanted the goblets, an old anniversary present, the silver one petrifies the drinker temporarily, freezing them in place. This is where the difficulty lies because that one is not technically a curse and is done very subtly, even an experienced curse breaker could be tricked by that one Harry so don't be disappointed. You were closer than the wizard I bought it from, he thought it chilled the liquid inside poor man. The gold goblet though, that one is all brute force, no subtlety at all. It turns any liquid inside into a potent poison that slowly paralyses the lungs so you can't breathe properly and suffocates you until you are about to fall unconscious before relenting just enough to keep you awake and aware. Stretching it out for as long as possible. The last man who drank from it took twelve days to die, each of them an indescribable agony." Castamir spoke the last words absently as he eyed the pair of goblets from beside Harry before shaking his head and patting him on the shoulder again. "You did very well Harry, with enough practice you'll be able to tell what an enchantment does in just a few seconds instead of the three hours you've spent on these."

Harry whipped his head around in shock at Castamir's words, had it really been three hours? His inability to see the sun or its light meant that observing the passage of time reliably had always been a difficulty for him but he hadn't thought that long had passed.

"Indeed, and I did promise to return you in time for supper Harry, so I'm afraid we will need to end this lesson early." Professor Flitwick informed them as he stood from his own seat by the counter, taking a final swig from a mug that had definitely not been there when Harry was studying the thimble. "Perhaps when I bring you to Ollivanders next week we can stop by again Castamir?" The short wizard asked as he stepped around and patted the shopkeeper's hip in farewell.

"Unfortunately I will be away until at least the middle of August, Filius. Leopold König has asked that I join him in Prague, in exchange for looking into You-Know-What I have agreed to meet him." Castamir replied, an odd monotone to his voice.

"Ah … I apologise Castamir, when I asked you to -" Professor Flitwick turned back but was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door to the shop.

"It is fine Filius, you are a friend and I have not seen my uncle in many years, it is overdue. Now I have paying customers to see so get going, I need a way to pay for all of the mead you get through when you visit. And goodbye Harry, you really did do marvellously for your first attempt." Castamir bid them farewell as he opened the door, letting a short woman with a toad-like face step inside after them who regarded the pair with a saccharine sweet expression, her disgustingly lurid pink magic swimming agitatedly around her.

Professor Flitwick returned Harry to Privet Drive with a promise to collect him the following week and warning him to be careful, someone was still intercepting his letters and they could be dangerous.

His aunt had immediately noticed his change in cane but had been appeased when he told her it was only for a week, even blushing slightly when Harry told her that Professor Flitwick would be back in a week to take him into Diagon Alley again. His aunt served him his dinner early and let him head up to his room when Vernon's car pulled into the driveway, he closed his bedroom door just in time to hear the front door slam open and Vernon bellow for food.

Harry wanted to try and practice identifying magic but quickly realised why Castamir had kept the items a secret until after Harry had already guessed their purposes; if he already knew what the magic did, he couldn't fall into the same mindset of observing and piecing together little hints. He tried first with the enchanted quill that Castamir had sent him at the beginning of first year, but it was hard to differentiate the feelings he got from his already present knowledge of what the item did.

In the end he gave up on the exercise and laid in bed reading Spellman's Syllabary instead, he had only been able to recognise one of the runes the whole time he had been in the Copper Artifice and he knew that they were used all across the Wizarding World. It could only be useful to know as many of them as possible, the difficulty lay in knowing which meaning of the rune was being used, each rune in Elder Futhark had at least three meanings but some had as many as ten and the author even warned that some potential meanings had likely been lost since the language's creation.

He fell asleep late that night with the book open next to him as for the first time in several days he suffered no nightmares, only soft dreams of magic and colour beyond comprehension.

Had he been awake and looking in the right direction he might have noticed an owl soaring towards Privet Drive. He might have seen the faint flash of magic as the owl froze in mid-air only a few seconds from reaching his house, wings outstretched as it slowed itself down ready to land. He might even have seen a small floppy eared figure appear forty feet in the air beside the owl and snatch the envelope it clutched in its talons before disappearing with a quiet crack. But he wasn't awake, and he wasn't looking in the right direction, so no one saw the owl suddenly come back into motion, its wings flapping frantically as it did its best to stay airborne. With no letter to deliver anymore, the owl let out a mournful hoot as it turned around and began its journey back towards Oxfordshire and its owner who had tried sending letters to her friend everyday since the break began.

A\N Hey everyone, so I have a few bits of news. First, this piece is now uploaded to AO3 under the same name and the same author name, I had a request to post there as well and I had no reason not to so I've done it. Neither site will be getting early releases or anything like that, I will be uploading to both at the same time on the same days.

Second, I would like to ask everyone for some feedback/opinions. You can write a review or send a PM, its up to you but I'd really like to hear what you think about this. Pairings. Now I have enough of the storyline planned out that I've reached a point where this seems natural to occur, and there are two main options that I'm considering. I am a big fan of Daphne/Harry fics but so far that doesn't seem likely in this, so I'm down to Susan/Harry OR Fleur/Harry. Now the Fleur/Harry pairing might seem odd but it will make more sense the deeper into the story we get, I can't say much more without spoiling anything so I'll leave it at that. But please let me know what you think, or if you have any other ideas for pairings that make sense to you then feel free to throw those out as well!

I will respond to all reviews by PM, I'm not a big fan of putting the replies at the beginning/end of the chapters but if you would prefer that then let me know.

And of course, a big thank you to everyone who has Favourited and Followed on FF or Kudos'ed (?) and Bookmarked on AO3, it means a lot to know so many people are enjoying my work and it's really what keeps me going with writing this, so thank you.

I hope you're enjoying my work, and if not then let me know what I could do differently/change!

Many thanks,

Daedalus Smythe