Due to time constraints on my Tuesday life now that school has started, in addition to work and other activities, I may start posting on Wednesdays again, so if such a change happens, do not panic. Until then however, I will strive to continue to keep the updates as consistent as possible. Enjoy the new chapter! ~F
Chapter Seven
Starlight, and Moonlight
Nobu'tan gloried in his ability to read the English words of these humans at last. Every book he came across was a new and spontaneous delight to him. Professor Flitwick had given him clear instructions to practice both translation spells on a daily basis, and for the first few weeks, Nobu'tan had to go to the Charms Master and have them applied until he himself figured out how to make the wand work the way it ought to.
Spells were simply different here, instead of drawing on the power of the Twisted Nether, or the Arcane Ley Lines that permeated the grounds, even here if they were significantly weaker than on Azeroth, mages of this world looked inward, pulling the magic from their very beings to power their spells. It was strange, and left Nobu'tan feeling weaker whenever he cast to much or for too long, but it was still an interesting idea for a backup source of magic in case he needed it.
However, their concept of what was a useful spell was lackluster, especially with what Archmage Flitwick was having him play with, supposedly to 'build up' his magical core. Levitating things, turning useless objects into other useless objects, and making small things perform acrobatic stunts for his amusement. While Nobu'tan immediately saw the reasons, flexing his internal magic like a muscle, it still felt underwhelming after a short time.
The positive aspect of the time spent with the diminutive half goblin was that Dumbledore had effectively left him alone, after that first awkward and nerve wracking dinner where he had ducked and dodged every question regarding Azeroth and Gul'dan that he could. Unfortunately he couldn't escape not answering anything, so the old Archmage now knew that he had been with a group that had been fighting a war with some other group of humans, and their magical leader had taken him under wing as an apprentice.
But at least the important details such as the Burning Legion, or the race of creatures he had lived with, and what magic he had learned were not yet to be touched upon. Not that Nobu'tan felt that this wouldn't eventually be addressed, but if he could hold out just a bit longer while the old man searched in vain for groups on this planet that fit the description he gave, all the better.
Most of the other Professors were also preoccupied with preparing for the rest of the children Nobu'tan's age to come in the coming month, so the young warlock had had plenty of time to himself, studying in private all the history books of this magical Britain, and the magical theory of these mages. He was relatively impressed that Dumbledore had not tried to give him lackluster history books, but selected the very best, holding nothing back in either good or evil events.
It seemed that, even if Nobu'tan was effectively a prisoner here, the Archmage was first and foremost an educator, and would not turn away someone willing to learn more. That was a trait that could be exploited, and Nobu'tan hoped for many opportunities to do so in the future.
He had also managed, in between the darkest hours of night while the adults thought him asleep in the guest room they had prepared for him near the Charm's corridor, to be able to work with tapping into the Ley Lines around the castle, empowering his mage abilities to at last be able to progress in his self study of the arcane arts, and a small amount of the learning of the Void. While he had yet to summon any demons for a while now, he doubted that these mages would look fondly on that, he had made great progress in researching souls, and the effective ways to remove them from a living being for his own ritualistic use, primarily experimenting on small animals from the nearby forest.
Teleportation had also been a thing that fascinated him, and while the wards around the school prevented such practices as far as the wizard's magic was concerned, and he was not allowed off the grounds by order of the Archmage, Nobu'tan was confident that he could use the ley lines to transport himself anywhere he had seen before, which would make life significantly easier once he could leave the school on his own.
Soon enough, August gave way to the beginning of the month called September, and the long expected day that the masses of other children would arrive. Nobu'tan was instructed to wear his school uniform for the first time, and spent the majority of the day with Archmage Dumbledore as the man oversaw the last minute preparations of the school, including a trip to the kitchens to see what the house elves, who resembled nothing like the high elves of Quel'Thalas, were preparing for the feast that evening.
Some of the things he saw that day were interesting, like large runic arrays that powered various wards all over the school and grounds, to the long Arithmancy equations that the old man could write in earnest when a certain charm was malfunctioning and needed to be replaced. Sadly, neither of those subjects would be offered to him for another two years, apparently, and Nobu'tan had to content himself with personal study of the subjects. His free time was looking busier and busier as time went on.
Now he was waiting with Professor McGonagall before the doors of the Castle as darkness covered the sky, just as the first of the mass of new students arrived. She was putting on quite the stern face for them, Nobu'tan noticed, probably to transmit the message of how serious she and her subject were. The children looked appropriately nervous about their surroundings, but Nobu'tan focused on the mountain of a man that led them up the stairs toward himself and Professor McGonagall.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the man said, beaming down at Nobu'tan as he did so. Nobu'tan knew a small amount of this man named Rebus Hagrid, that he was keeper of the grounds and was overly kind and gentle, but nothing that really endeared the young warlock to him. He had strictly avoided the man's hut for no reasons other than to avoid having conversations that would waste his valuable time before the castle was swarming with eyes that would be less than approving of his magic.
"Thank you Hagrid. I will take it from here," Mage McGonagall said, dismissing the man to slip into the hall from a side door and take his seat.
Meanwhile the female mage cast the doors to the Entrance Hall wide, allowing all the students, and Nobu'tan, access to the warmth of the castle as she led them inside, to a room just off the side from the Great Hall, where already the buzz of many voices could be heard.
Once all the children had crowded inside, Professor McGonagall took some time to speak to them all, regarding the houses and their rules. It was something that Nobu'tan had already read about, in his glorious first few weeks of being able to read, and he had most of the knowledge memorized by this point. The four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin, were already well known to him by this point, as well as the four heads of House, Professors McGonagall herself, as well as Archmage Flitwick, another mage who was called Spout, and the sly one called Severus Snape.
Nobu'tan was already astutely aware which house he would prefer to be in, especially with Slytherin's current standing of producing many so called 'dark' wizards, and he'd prefer to keep Archmage Dumbledore's attention off him as much as possible.
McGonagall was turning to the doors, "The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered on some of the boys, who looked rather disheveled as though they had dressed in a hurry. "I shall return when we are ready for you, please wait quietly," she said before slipping from the room.
Quiet muttering began almost instantly after the door closed. Nobu'tan stood off to the side, not desirous to join the mass of human children his own age. He was orc raised, and had little idea how they would expect him to behave himself, let alone interact with them, so Nobu'tan felt that it would be best to rely on his unassuming statue and training to remain unnoticed by them until it was time for them to leave.
Sadly, that seemed less than possible, as many had seen him waiting for them with the Professor separately, and crowded around him almost immediately, asking about what the Sorting entailed, who he was, and why he wasn't on the train. Nobu'tan was almost forced to actually respond, when several people at the back screamed. Most of the group turned, and Nobu'tan breathed a sigh of relief as the ghosts of Hogwarts streamed straight through the walls, discussing one of their number until they realized that they had just glided into a room filled with children.
"New Students!" said the Hufflepuff ghost, the Fat Friar, smiling around at them all. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"
A few nodded, still afraid of the pearly white shape of the ghosts. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff," the Friar said cheerfully as the group continued through the next wall, "my old house you know."
"Move along now," said the voice of Professor McGonagall, as she returned, "the Ceremony of about to start. Form a line please, and follow me."
The children obeyed, Nobu'tan taking up a position toward the rear of the line, breathing deeply to himself. Despite knowing that these humans were only children, and of no threat to him, it had still been rather nerve wracking for them to charge up to him all at once and demand answers to questions he did not want to answer, and he needed a moment to collect himself.
Remembering the Archmage Dumbledore was only one room over, waiting for him to appear greatly helped to focus Nobu'tan's resolve. He refused to show weakness in front of the old man, and as simple as something like this was, it was a matter of his own pride that he forced himself to at least act calm.
Nobu'tan had been in the Great Hall only one time before, but now with the decorations and hundreds of people filling the seats he could see why it was a magnificent room. The levels of magic from so many wizards and mages were remarkable, and Nobu'tan could feel far below that the Ley Lines were singing at the thought of so many magic users drawing power from it. but that thought confused him, as these mages did not use the power of the Ley Lines for their casting, merely specific rune based magic.
As they approached the stool with the enchanted hat upon it however, Nobu'tan decided that the Ley Line mystery would have to wait for another day. As they stood waiting, the animation charms on the hat activated, opening a rip near the brim and began to, of all the stupid things, sing.
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Albus had always extremely enjoyed the Welcoming Feast of another year at Hogwarts; it symbolized new beginnings, a fresh start, and good feelings. This year was no exception, but there was an added level of excitement throughout the Hall as the First years piled inside and listened to the Sorting Hat's song.
Old as he may be, Albus was not deaf yet, and the whispered conversations rippling among the students about young Harry and his presence were not to be ignored. Not that he planned to oust the boy before the entire Hall, but inevitably he would be called up and sorted, which would quell the inherent disquiet among the students as their beloved hero, and in many cases idol, finally took his place in one of the four houses.
One by one the eleven year olds started to approach as Minerva called their names from the scroll Albus had created off the list of names for that year, corresponded with those that has responded in the affirmative, plus Harry. All in all, only four families had refused the position at the school for their child, and each had very good reasons to, predominant being that they no longer lived in Britain, in the aftermath of the first war with Voldemort, and had thusly made other arrangements.
As Minerva worked her way down the list of names, Albus noticed that even members of the Staff started to grow somewhat in anticipation, leaning forward as the 'P' names approached. Albus knew that Professor Flitwick in particular had great interest in Harry's placement, having grown quite close to the boy during their time together the previous month. The Dueling Champion and Charm's Master loved to teach, and Harry had been like a dry sponge, soaking up every tidbit of information that the part-human had been willing to dispense, which greatly pleased both Filius and Albus.
At last, the moment came, and as Minerva called, "Potter, Harry," the entire Hall seemed to hold their collective breath. The boy stepped forward, looking mightily uncomfortable at the attention, and frowning only once at the stool and hat, sat without a word and allowed Minerva to place the hat upon his head, the brim sinking low over his eyes.
And then, they waited. Albus wasn't sure how the tedium of waiting seemed to drag time out, and momentarily allowed his thoughts to wander as to whether the Department of Mysteries had studied something about that, when the Hat opened its brim wide to call out the name of Harry's House.
"RAVENCLAW!" it bellowed, much to the delight of Filius and the table of blue and bronze.
As the hat was lifted off Harry's head, the Eagle's symbol appeared on the brest of his robes, along with the blue trim marking him a member of the house of the wise and learned. Minerva, to her credit, only looked mildly disappointed, along with the rest of Gryffindor, who had expected that the lad would join their ranks like his parents before him. Albus personally was pleased that he had correctly guessed where Harry was likely to go, and relieved that it was not into the house of serpents.
An entire level of planning now was not needed, and he could proceed with his original plans to hone the boy in preparation for when Voldemort would strike again from the shadows of the world. But there was still a long way to go, and even as he smiled over the head table as Ravenclaws of all ages congratulated Harry, he knew that there was no small amount of pain and discomfort that awaited this boy who had so much unknowingly placed upon his shoulders.
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Nobu'tan was more than aware of all the eyes on him, and the reaction that was likely to occur regardless of whatever house he entered. The hat seemed determined that he go into Slytherin, for all the ambition that had been taught him by his master, Gul'dan, but that was not an acceptable option.
Slytherin was overwhelmingly hated by all houses, and favored by only a single professor, one Severus Snape, who seemed to dislike Nobu'tan passionately for reasons he kept to himself. Therefore, Nobu'tan took it into his own hands to select the house he desired to enter, Ravenclaw, and would not back down his desires for the Eagle's house to be his own.
The hat, it seemed, was not designed to contradict the wishes of a student once they had their own choice made, merely recommending that Slytherin would still be the best fit for him, before giving in and declaring to the entire Hall, "RAVENCLAW!"
The applause was thunderous from the blue and bronze table, who clearly had not expected him to go to their house. In fact, the only table that looked disappointed, aside from all who were surprised, was the house of red and gold; Gryffindor. Nobu'tan knew that his family traditionally went to that House, but he was his own person, not a copy of any other, and he knew that entering that house would drive him crazy with annoyance from the downright lack of forethought that people who entered it seemed to express in their mannerisms.
No, he would fit well in the house of the intelligent, as to the leanings of magic, and perhaps there he would find allies that would not criticize him for what he was or desired to pursue in his learning. Taking his seat, and nodding at all those who approached to welcome him, Nobu'tan waited patiently for the final few children to be sorted, and the food at last to appear.
Once it did, the talking began, and Nobu'tan once more blessed the charms that allowed him to understand the speech of these children, or else he would have been totally lost. Even still, much of the things they spoke of were foreign to him, such as their blood lineage, whether this or that parent were magical or not, and the most baffling thing of all that consumed the minds of these children and adolescents, Quidditch.
Nobu'tan felt he would never understand why so many were downright obsessed with a game played up in the air, where nothing was accomplished except some spherical objects being throw around or captured. Regardless of the absurdity of it, flying sounded delightful, like most of the magical things here, but Nobu'tan refused to allow himself to be distracted from the main goal he had laid for himself.
He needed to escape his prison here. He clearly did not belong much here, even as he pretended to listen and understand what the children discussed, as he slowly ate food that he had never before tasted, and felt the eyes of much of the Hall on him. He wanted, more than anything, to return to Gul'dan's side, and forward their mission of dominating Azeroth.
That's when the little, burningly brilliant idea came to him. Why seek to return to Gul'dan, when he could create means to bring Gul'dan and the Horde to him? Nobu'tan understood little about the great swirling vortex that was the Dark Portal, having had the honor of seeing it only once from a great distance when he was very little, but the concept seemed something that he could easily learn about, study here and through the arts he secretly possessed, and if he couldn't discover the means here, there were other sources of knowledge he could ask assistance from, such as the Legion. Offering another world for them to consume in exchange would be a transaction he could see the demon-lords accepting.
A small smile worked its way onto his face at the thought, and he squirreled it away deep in his heart, a dream to feed while he was prisoner here, of freedom and blood and fire as he at last was freed of these people who thought they could control him.
Soon enough, the food was depleted, and Archmage Dumbledore rose from his seat. Clearing his throat to get the assembled children's attention, he began, "Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you all. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
The Archmage sent a pointed glance toward the red and gold clad table before continuing, amid chuckles from the older students, going over perfectly mundane things, for a magical school. As he was speaking Nobu'tan couldn't help but make comparisons to how different, and inferior, the system here was to Dalaran and their tutelage. Archmage Kel'Thuzad had been one of the few people that Nobu'tan had actually interacted with in the Violet Citadel, aside from the occasional other apprentice while looking through the massive library or walking the streets of the mage's city, but he had few that he had to answer to in his studies except his master, who directed everything and taught Nobu'tan what the Archmage felt he needed to learn.
Here however, it seemed that a general level of studies were assigned to every student, and they were expected to at least be competent enough to pass along with the rest of their peers, instead of each being taught to grown to their own standards and reach to their personal strengths, becoming strong as a group for their diversity rather than a mindless blob of meaningless similitude.
"And finally," Dumbledore said, and Nobu'tan returned his attention to the old man, "I must tell you all that this year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Some children laughed nervously, but very few did. Nobu'tan frowned, as it seemed rather foolish to announce something like that in such a manner to a room full of children. Would it not be better to simply block off the area and utterly prevent access? Soon enough they were dismissed, and Nobu'tan slowly followed the group of Ravenclaw first years up to their tower common room, following the Prefects, Penelope Clearwater and Robert Hilliard, up the many flights of stairs in what Nobu'tan felt was a roundabout and very convoluted way, with how many secret passages he could easily sense with his magic.
Ironically though, either the Prefects did not want the First Years to think about how much more complicated that could be, or did not know they were there themselves, they took the mainstream path, ending at the top of a spiral staircase at the west side of the fifth floor with a door that lacked any sort of knob or keyhole. All that was present was a knocker in the shape of an eagle, the symbol of their house.
As the person in the lead, Prefect Hilliard, approached, a clear voice spoke, "What loses its head in the morning and gets it back at night?"
Turning to the group, the Prefect smiled, "Anyone have an answer? You'll all need to become proficient with riddles if you wish to enter the common room on your own, so best to start now."
For a few moments, no one spoke, and then one of the girls in the back called out, "A pillow."
"Well said," the door announced, and swung aside, permitting them all entry. The Prefects ushered them all inside, and idly Nobu'tan glanced around his temporary new home, the wide circular room was quite open and airy, with a midnight blue carpet making the stone floor beneath them quite comfortable. Arched windows all around gave a stunning view of the castle's many roofs and the grounds beyond them in all directions, while various bookshelves, tables, and chairs were all present for students wishing to study among their own Housemates instead of in the library with the rest of the school.
There were two more staircases here, one on each side of a tall statue of white marble, depicting an austere yet surprisingly intimidating woman, presumable Rowena Ravenclaw herself, the Founder of their House. Little time was taken by the Prefects, who quickly described the facilities up each flight, and when for the first years to report for breakfast in the morning, before sending them off to prepare for bed.
Nobu'tan was the first to travel up the stairs, noting the each room as they ascended had a plaque on the door indicating what year of students lived within. The first years were all the way at the top of the tower, giving them the best view, albeit the most time to travel up and down the tower. Inside the boy's dormitory all Nobu'tan's possessions waited by one of the four beds. The other three boys, Terence Boot, Anthony Goldstein, and Michael Corner, were so tired that they did little else than change into their night clothes and flop unceremoniously onto their beds.
Nobu'tan hadn't had as filling as day as any of them, having not needed to travel from the train station back in London, so he was not nearly as exhausted. Taking his time, he relished once again, as he had for the past month, in the concept of indoor plumbing and cleanliness, a marvel that would be completely ignored throughout the Horde, Gul'dan included.
Afterward he went back downstairs, ignoring the many glances and stares of the older housemates, who probably wondered why he wasn't dead on his feet like the rest of the first years, and proceeded to select a few of the books from the various shelves that looked particularly interesting. There was a tome on the study of ancient runes, as well as a pair of companion books about offensive and defensive combat magic, which he piled together and took back to the dormitory without a word of explanation to the rest of the room, not that it was needed. Clearly it was standard policy in Ravenclaw that if someone wanted to read, you let them.
Granted these books, while interesting, were merely a front for what he truly wanted to read, the books he had taken out of the Diagon bookstore's rear section, the ones brimming with nether energy. Crawling into the large four poster bed and pulling the curtains shut around him, Nobu'tan lifted the book and eagerly opened the cover, smiling in delight as the English words changed in his mind to the common script he was used to reading by now. He had to remember to save his knowledge of the orcish language for times he wanted absolute privacy, as there currently was no way for anyone, even Archmage Dumbledore, to read or understand that.
This book he now held however was quite interesting, detailing the mad schemes of some ancient wizard, in his own ramblings, as he took the tentative steps toward the same powers that Nobu'tan now wielded. Merwyn, who was obsessed with being remembered as 'the Malicious,' seemed to have at least a spark of creativity in him, as he had quite easily listed off the first handful of abilities that Nobu'tan had been taught by Gul'dan and Cho'gall back in Azeroth: conjuring bolts of shadow magic, afflicting enemies with a corroding curse of darkness, calling form imps from the Twisted Nether to the location of the caster, and this all within the first dozen or so pages of the man's dabbling in the arts of the void.
There was also much more than merely warlock based magic here, but for now they were the only parts that held Nobu'tan's interest, and he skimmed through as he drew inspiration at another touched by the power of the Burning Legion. It seemed, in time when Merwyn had grown in power, that he made the attempt to contact the Legion directly, hoping for more tutelage in exchange for his loyalty. The ritual was botched however, and little came of it but signaling to his enemies where he was and what he was up to.
In the end the book trailed off after the warlock said that he had to go into hiding, and was secreting this tome for future generations, in hopes that someone worthy would continue in his footsteps, and Nobu'tan smiling widely at that. After a manner of speaking, the thousand year old book had indeed fallen into the hands of another warlock, and there would be much that Nobu'tan could learn here. Carefully slipping the book back to the bottom of his trunk, Nobu'tan finally allowed the need for sleep to overtake him.
The next few days were probably going to be extremely taxing, and his rest would be more than needed to deal with whatever the day brought with it.
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Hermione Granger wasn't much for gossip, but she couldn't help but overhear what was said the first day of classes, as the Gryffindor first years shuffled down to breakfast. The one name that seemed to be on everyone's lips was Harry Potter.
Many students huddled with various Ravenclaw, mainly those of the upper years, and discussed things that had witnessed about the boy behind his back, while whispered conversations darted up and down each of the House tables. Ironically, as Hermione snuck a glance at the subject of all the rumors and speculations, she raised an eyebrow to find that he was contentedly eating his food, not caring in the slightest at all the attention he was getting, just acting like a normal boy with his dorm mates, occasionally speaking while the other three Ravenclaw boys talked around him.
Sure, he was a celebrity, sure he was probably this or that, but from what Hermione saw, he was just an ordinary boy, who came to school to learn like the rest of them, and people were being awfully strange about him, which was probably rather off putting, even if he didn't show it.
Glancing down at her schedule when Professor McGonagall came around with them, Hermione smiled. There were at least two classes that week that Ravenclaw shared with Gryffindor, History of Magic, and Charms. That was two chances to actually get to know the boy Harry Potter, and she felt that the entire school needed to see an example of how you truly go about getting to know someone.
Unfortunately, History of Magic turned out to be so dull and lifeless that it was nearly impossible for her to do anything but struggle to keep up on her notes as the ghost who taught the subject, Professor Binns, lectured throughout the entire class period. Harry and most of the Ravenclaws managed to stay awake, but she wondered how many of them actually took notes and how many were working on other class work during the lecture.
Charms class was the first lesson on Wednesday, and Hermione hoped that she might have the opportunity to at least introduce herself properly to Harry as they took their seats. To this end she arrived extraordinarily early, rushing in as soon as Professor Flitwick opened the door. She paused when she noticed that Harry was already present.
It was rather off putting, having her plan altered in such a fashion, but she tried to control her sudden nervousness. She had envisioned a few moments at least to compose herself and actual approach the boy, but as she set down her bag, placing parchment, a quill and her wand on the desk, she knew there was nothing for it. Facing the boy, she strode over to him.
He was reading, as most Ravenclaws were wont to do at all hours, but Hermione didn't let that stop her. "Hello," she managed, which paused the boy mid sentence, and he looked up with an odd expression, not confused or angry, but curious.
"Hello…" he replied, somewhat haltingly, as though he wasn't used to speaking English very well, although the pronunciation was quite clear. Trying madly to control herself and keep from flustering, Hermione looked down at the book again, "I was just wondering what you're reading."
The boy smiled slightly as he returned his attention to the book, sliding a placeholder into the pages and closing it, he presented the spine to her, which declared it a rudimentary guide for the study of ancient runes. Hermione had already noted the mention of a class for that from some of the third and upper years, and figured that it was something that was offered later after students had managed the basics. "Oh, I've heard of that class, it sounds rather interesting." She mused aloud, "Is the book any good?" she asked earnestly, sliding into the seat next to the Ravenclaw.
"I think it is," Harry said slowly, as though taking his time to make sure the words came out correctly. "It gives a very comprehensive outline of what runes can be used for, and several powerful examples of each, as well as a few basic carvings and how one could practice them."
Hermione noticed Professor Flitwick smiling over at them, and the Charms Master casually flicked his wand, causing Hermione's things to travel across the room and settle where she was sitting, "Class will start in a few more minutes Mr. Potter," the man said gently as he returned to his marking.
Harry nodded at the Professor, and paused to pull out his wand, muttering a spell softly and pointing it at himself. Hermione was confused at what the boy had done, but felt it might be viewed as extremely rude to push a personal topic like that so bluntly, so she continued the original topic as though nothing had happened. "So, what are a few things that runes are good for? I mean I know there must be all sorts of ingenious magic that they're part of, but you clearly have some extraordinary idea if you're interested in the topic already."
Harry grinned slightly, more to himself than Hermione, and surprised her when he spoke by how much more confident he sounded, "Well, I have a few ideas that I'm trying to figure out how possible they are. You know how wizards teleport, using Apparition, what if we could make and maintain large runic arrays that would power permanent portals, allowing mass numbers of people to travel long distances instantly."
Harry's eyes shown with excitement and desire at the idea, and Hermione wondered if every Ravenclaw was so intense with their projects. It was actually rather inspiring, for a boy so young to have such a passion. "Don't they already have Portkeys and the Floo network for that?" she asked, having seen and experienced those two forms of wizarding transportation when Professor McGonagall had come to take her and her parents to Diagon for the first time.
"Yes, but this would be like combining all three forms into one," Harry pressed, turning in his seat to face her and explain, "You see, the Floo network are sort of like what I'm think of, except they aren't open at all times, and have a limited distance you can travel before you have to connect to another fireplace, hence why it gets so disorienting and sometimes quite unpleasant. On the other hand, Portkeys can travel a long distance, but they are usually bound by objects, which every member who wished to travel much be touching, and that adds limits of how many and at what times they can travel. What I want to create would be like a massive Floo fireplace, but constantly open to a very far destination, like Hogsmeade to Diagon Alley, which would allow traffic to flow between the two in either direction freely."
It was quite the idea, and Hermione knew that she didn't have the tools to even consider the concept, having not studied nearly enough about magic to even realize that wizards had such limits on their traveling forms. But students were just starting to trickle in, and the first three boys were all in Harry's house, calling to him and joking as they sat around Hermione and Harry.
None really seemed to mind her sitting with them, even if it was odd that she was on the Ravenclaw side of the room instead of with her fellow Gryffindors, but from the look on Professor Flitwick's face, he wasn't going to say a single word about it.
As the lesson started, and the smaller Professor started to discuss the different charms and spells they would practice throughout the year, Hermione couldn't help but notice the subtle interaction, or rather the lack thereof, between Harry and his three year mates. While he wasn't exactly cold or distant from them, there seemed to be almost a slight disconnect between them and him. One of the boys would make a joke, causing the other two to cover their faces to prevent themselves from snorting, but Harry would only grin, and he didn't seem to speak as casually as they did when the class was set to work practicing wand movements from out of their textbook.
Was it that Harry was simply different enough to stand out with how close Hermione was, or was it something else? Hermione wasn't even sure if what she thought she noticed was real or not, but it was definitely something strange. Regardless, she had done what none of the rest of the school had seemed willing to consider, and at least was on friendly terms with the celebrity, and surprisingly, Hermione felt that Harry could become a good friend. He certainly seemed like the pleasant sort, if not slightly on the bookish side, which suited Hermione just fine.
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Severus paused as he reached the name he had loathed to see on his list of students. "Ah, yes," he said softly for the class, "Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity…"
It was still rather odd to see the boy prancing about in the blue and bronze of Ravenclaw instead of the dreadful red and gold of Gryffindor, and much less satisfying to have him in a class with Hufflepuffs instead of his Slytherins, but there was little to be helped with that. Severus continued with the roll, completely ignoring Potter and his brief look of confusion at the small statement.
Beginning his same first year lecture about the demanding and quite specific arts of potion-making, Severus resisted rolling his eyes as all the Ravenclaws, including Potter, started copying his words down, like generations before them. While he didn't discourage it, there really was little of importance that he said, just a heavy insinuation of how great care must be taken in his subject, or else.
"Potter!" Severus called suddenly, startling the Ravenclaws out of their note taking. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
It was a fair question, Severus thought, especially for a Ravenclaw who ought to have at least opened their book, and spotted the small note in one of the opening chapters. Granted it was not part of the main text and irrelevant flavor, but Severus expected much from his students, and Potter was to be given no special treatment.
The boy closed his eyes for a moment, and Severus could almost see the eyes darting back and forth under their lids, as if rereading the very book. "The Draught of Living Death, sir." Potter said.
"Correct…" Severus said softly, interested. There may be potential in the boy after all, "and where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Something from a bit later on in the book, when poisons were first mentioned, still perfectly fair.
"In the stomach of a goat, sir," Potter replied again, correctly.
Severus nodded, before deciding to push the envelope just slightly. "And what is the difference, Mr. Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Severus admitted to himself that the final question might be slightly unfair, as the text clearly defined the herb as monkshood only; the name of wolfsbane having come about several decades after the author had passed away. Still, he truly wanted to know how intelligent the boy was, in the month he had had to actually study for Hogwarts.
"I'm not sure, sir, but aren't they the same plant?" Potter said, only slightly hesitantly, second guessing himself.
"They are, Mr. Potter. I congratulate you on your clear understanding of the text and willingness to commit much of it to memory. I will give Ravenclaw House three points for those answers." Severus said, not terribly grudgingly, he did give points to other houses than Slytherin, just when they were truly earned. Gryffindor may complain all they want that they didn't, but as a house they simply failed to impress Severus.
"Let us hope that all that knowledge translates itself to practical application as we start off with a relatively simply boil curing potion," Severus added, launching into the actual lesson. Flicking his wand at the blackboard, the directions that were taken straight from their book appeared there, with a few minor tweaks that Severus wondered if anyone would notice.
"Instructions are on the board and in your book; several of the ingredients are in the student cupboards at the rear of the classroom. Pay careful attention to the heat of your cauldrons, and be sure to remove it from the fire before adding porcupine quills. The effects if failing to do so are not pleasant to say the least."
Severus knew that the Ravenclaws would have no trouble following his directions, but the verbal warnings were there for those who would, hopefully, listen and avoid the disaster that awaited anyone who failed to heed them. Severus still remembered the horrific ordeal that was the Gryffindor Slytherin block before lunch, when Neville Longbottom, obviously not listening or forgetful, had done just that.
Walking around the room and observing the students as they worked, Severus noted some that may want to take remedial lessons to improve their ingredient preparation, and made mental notes to contact them subtly, something that he did not bother with the Gryffindors as they would never take up the offer if he extended it. His Slytherins had no choice in the matter, as Severus would not tolerate ineptitude from his House.
"Sir?" Potter asked as he passed by, only glancing once at the slightly above average prep work. Severus turned, pausing respectfully. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"
Nodded at the board up front, the boy continued, "I've noticed that your instructions differ from those in the book, and I wanted to ask why you made those changes? Do they have a different effect on the potion if I was to add two and an eighth quill instead of the full three."
Severus couldn't help himself but smile. It seemed that the boy had indeed inherited his mother's love for learning. This one would be a privilege to teach, coated in Dark Magic residue or not. "Try it and see." He said cryptically, keeping his voice low so that others didn't hear, "and take note how yours turns out in comparison to those who follow the book's directions.
The boy nodded, silently, before returning to his potion. Severus walked away, continuing to observe all the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students, but his mind was already whirling about Potter. If he was clearly more like his mother, than would change a few things, and remembering the state the boy was in when they first met somewhat softened the hard lump in Severus' chest at the thought of the child. At the same time, questions started to arise. Where had the boy truly gone then, and what had he been up to for over ten years while the Wizarding World missed him.
