𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖊

Act II - The Warlock of Hogwarts

Chapter 10 - Babbling

Fleur had left him while it was still the early hours of the morning.

Walking to the Great Hall alone felt strange. For one, he was used to climbing out of the portrait hole, and coming down from Gryffindor tower. Instead, Harry found himself walking downstairs from the third floor, ready for his very first class of the new year. Knowing his luck, it'd probably be with Toady and then double potions with Snape. He and the dungeon bat might have a common interest, but that didn't mean the man was going to let him attend his class without a parting insult or ten.

Harry turned past the staircase into the corridor, when a feminine squeak alerted his senses before something soft and squishy smashed him in the back, nearly throwing him flat on the ground. Squinting his eyes, Harry turned around and found the flushed face of Susan Bones behind him. From the sound of her panting, he could guess she had been running down the corridor and hadn't been able to control herself in time when he walked into her path.

"Ooof! That hurt! Sorry!" Susan said, pushing herself off him. "Sorry! I didn't—"

"It's okay," He said, standing up.

"What're you doing here?"

"Heading for breakfast, actually," he said.

Susan quirked an eyebrow.

Harry inwardly started to prepare for an answer that he'd no doubt have to repeat countless times for the remainder of the day. At least Susan was a known quantity and they were all alone. It'd give him an idea of how others might react to it.

"I'm not staying at Gryffindor Tower, actually."

She blinked. "Why?"

"Ask the Ministry. They think I'm a danger to other students because of my family magic—"

"And so they're making you live elsewhere?" Susan asked, affronted. "I'll talk to my aunt about that. Does— does Mr. Black know?"

"Not yet, no, and besides, it's not that bad. I have a private dorm all to myself. It's almost like home."

"But you don't have to," Susan replied, "It's not your fault that those people attacked you. Or that your family magic behaves differently than others. This… this isn't fair!"

"The only thing granted fairly to everyone is an unfair reality, Susan." He smiled, and turned around. "Come now, we're getting late for breakfast."

Susan looked like she wanted to retort, but fell in line. They walked to the Great Hall together, and found it mostly full at this point. Ron and Hermione were already at the Gryffindor table, with the latter giving a talking-down to the twins, while holding a fleshy, tubular thing that looked like somebody's ear tied to a long, fleshy strip. His gaze shifted to the Slytherin table, just in time to see Tracey Davis nudge Daphne in his direction. A sideward glance revealed the death glares that Cho was sending at him, before it rested back on the Gryffindor table where Neville and Ginny were sitting next to each other, whispering furiously as they spotted him across the hall.

"Want to come sit with me— erm, with us?" Susan squeaked.

Harry cocked his head. "At the Hufflepuff table?"

"Yeah."

He frowned. "I don't think it's a good idea. It's our first day and McGonagall will be handing over the schedules. Maybe some other time?"

That and it'd make his present situation even more complicated. Ron and Hermione were obviously waiting to bombard him with questions about his absence, and about the events on the train. Him going over the Hufflepuff table to sit with Susan would only spawn more confusion, something Pansy would use to her benefit.

And then there was Fleur.

And Umbridge.

He exhaled. He was doing that a lot lately, ever since he had left home.

Home…

Suppressing the returning feeling of homesickness, he looked at Susan. Her smile had dropped at his rejection, but she bore it well with a quick smile.

"Sometime this week?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"Super," she said, suddenly pushing herself forward and giving him a quick hug. Harry was taken aback, both from the suddenly intimate gesture and with Susan of all people engaging in it, but before he could so much voice his thoughts she pulled back and left with a smile towards her friends on the Hufflepuff table. He noticed the square expression on Daphne's face on the Slytherin table, and Hermione's gobsmacked expression, which had quickly been replaced by a shark-like smile with her hands resting on her waist.

At least she isn't going to chew me in anger.

Then he noticed Ron. And Ginny.

Maybe I spoke too soon.

Offering a prayer to whatever deity was listening, he walked over to the Gryffindor table.

"Good morning, guys, and Hermione, can I just say you look absolutely wonderful this morning?" He gave her a roguish grin, eliciting only an eye-roll from his best friend. Either Sirius was exaggerating about his ability to charm girls, or he was just that hopeless.

"Sirius is a terrible influence on you," said Hermione.

"Yeah well, now I have you to set me right in the next several months," he gave her a one-armed hug. He had gotten used to giving and getting hugs now. You couldn't not do that with Sirius Black as your godfather and Fleur Delacour as your girlfriend.

Hermione shook her head with a smile, making her bushy hairs bounce around her head.

"Where were you last night, mate?" Ron asked, "and what's the deal with Bonesy?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Bonesy?"

Ron shrugged. "Ginny told us what happened on the train, mate. I think you're way over your head. She's a pretty bird, mate, but Greengrass is a Slytherin."

Harry's gaze flickered at Ginny who was intently looking at her food as she steadily put tiny amounts of it into her mouth. Given how things had devolved between her and Pansy, it wasn't a surprise that she talked about it. His absence at the dorm hadn't helped things either.

"Harry?" Hermione repeated. He didn't need to look around to know that everyone in his vicinity was paying attention.

He exhaled. "You know what? It's too early to deal with this shit. Move over. I'm starving."

He ignored Hermione's constant attempts at trying to get him to speak up and instead kept devouring the food before him, only giving a straight reply when Neville inquired about Hecate, whom he had already fed from the frozen bacon stored up in his trunk. And then McGonagall came over to hand over the routines.

"Seamus reckons you're lying about You-Who-Who," said Ron succinctly, when it appeared he wasn't going to answer a thing. Harry expected Hermione to react to that, but instead, she just dropped her head and nodded gloomily.

"Lavender thinks so too."

"Oh?" He asked, turning his head finally, "Was that what happened last night? Debates over whether Harry Potter's a liar?"

"No," said Hermione calmly, "I told her to keep her big, fat mouth shut about you. You'd have known if you had spent the night in the tower instead of chasing some Slytherin skirts."

"Right!" Harry said. "So you lot, listen up," he glanced on the other side, "you too, for I'm not repeating this. Evidently, some of you lot complained to the Ministry, saying that I was a dangerous nutcase because of what happened in the Third Task. The Board of Governors and the Ministry of Magic made Professor Dumbledore move me from the Gryffindor tower to a private room, so that you lot can sleep better, without fearing about me sucking your magic out of you. There, asked and answered." He paused for a minute. "Actually, in case you don't believe me, go ask Professor McGonagall. She'll tell you."

"Tell them what?" came McGonagall's voice from behind.

"Bugger," said Harry, looking behind him. And there she was, peering at him through her glasses. "Erm, Professor McGonagall, I was just—"

"Mr. Potter is correct," said the woman. "Aside from the Ministry directives, Mr. Potter is also a registered Warlock. For both reasons, Professor Dumbledore has provided for private dormitory facilities for Mr. Potter for the considerable future."

"So Harry won't be in Gryffindor?" Ron asked. "What about Quidditch?"

Minerva McGonagall muttered something under her breath as she regarded Ron with a withering glare. "I'd have imagined Mr. Potter holds more relevance to you than being the Gryffindor seeker, Mr. Weasley. And as for your query, no, Mr. Potter is still a Gryffindor. He is just going to live in his separate quarters from now on." She paused, and looked around. "I trust that will not be a problem?"

Ron looked suitably chastised.

When no one replied, she turned towards Harry. "Here is your routine, Potter. And let me remind you, Professor Babbling has asked you to be present with the fifth-years today."

Harry nodded, as the Transfiguration Mistress left them for the lower years.

"Harry," Hermione asked, "What does Professor Babbling want from you?"

"I changed some classes," he answered, "I dropped Divination and took up Arithmancy instead. Sirius taught me a bit during the summer, so I think I can test out the third-year material. If it works, then I'll sit with the fourth-years for that class. As for Babbling… Well, I'm honestly not sure. But it might have something to do with Fleur."

"But Harry, you need at least two electives for OWLs," Hermione replied.

"Not me."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Is this because of that… Warlock thing?"

He nodded. "That and more. In fact, I might even skip a couple of classes. I've got permission from Dumbledore."

"But Harry, you can't leave me all alone in Divination," Ron cried in an outraged voice.

He shrugged. "It's just a fraudulent subject, and honestly, I've got a lot at hand. I'll be with you in Magical Creatures, though."

"But Harry—"

"Ron," Harry stressed, emphasising on his name, "He. Is. Back. Do you understand what that means? For me?"

Whatever Ron was about to say died in his throat, as the redhead just looked at him blankly for a moment. It took a second for him to actually register the words and another to consider the potential implications.

"Things are not going to be the same," Harry told him, "I am not who I once was. And we cannot go back to the school life we had over the past four years."

Ron looked like he wanted to retort, but Hermione grabbed him by the shoulder and shook her head.

"I get you, mate. I don't have to like it, but I think I understand." Ron didn't really look as understanding as he did lost, but he supposed it would have to do.

"Great," Harry chirped, "now mind passing me that treacle tart? It looks delicious."

"Alright," said Bathsheda Babbling, "who can tell me why the Hecate's Principles aren't used in standardised spell creation? Yes, Mr. Entwhistle?"

Kevin Entwhistle looked like the professor had just grown two heads. "Uh… it cannot be used to solve Futhark Matrices on which modern spellcraft is based on?"

"That's really impressive," deadpanned Babbling, "I mean that's really good. I'm impressed, especially since the subject of this class is Solving Futhark Matrices."

Harry sighed despondently. Turns out, Sirius might have exaggerated how difficult Ancient Runes was. If this was how far the students had gotten after two years, then maybe he was better off studying on his own.

An unfair thought perhaps, since the class was no doubt challenging to everyone who didn't have a headstart like he did.

Sometime during the second week of August, Sirius had taken him to a magical shop near Wales, and gotten him administered with a very expensive runecraft 'memory potion'. The process did not make him a master of the subject by any means, but simply imparted to him the knowledge of the Elder Futhark rune script in vivid detail, just enough for him to continue learning the applications of advanced Arithmancy on the Futhark alphabet. The term 'memory potion' was actually a misnomer, since it was actually a very specific dose of the Draught of Living Death, targeted to reduce the victim into a death-like state while allowing temporary activation of the so-called Third Eye, magnifying one's perception, awareness and spiritual communication. Once that was established, he had been subjected to a Kabbalistic thaumaturgical method that worked on the concept of 'receiving', a mechanism that the early mystics used to comprehend all kinds of secrets to the universe by receiving them from the all-mysterious Ein Sol, their personification of the all-seeing, eternal God. The influx of information was so great that it could cause major aneurysm and cardiac arrests in the receiver, which was why they were subjected to the Draught in the first place.

Illegal? Mildly.

Foolhardy? Definitely.

"Now someone, somebody, tell me something I don't already know." Babbling asked.

Harry raised his arm.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" asked Babbling, surprised at him raising his hand.

"Because Hecate's also regarded as the Goddess of boundaries," He smiled, thinking of a different Hecate that was sleeping in his trunk. He really ought to get something done about her. "Her principles are all about letting the Abstract flow into the Real. Modern spellcraft is all about keeping the Abstract separated from Real."

Babbling gave him a wide smile. "Yes."

Convenient? Extremely.

As the class dragged on, Harry realised why Hermione often missed her Runes class. Anyone that could pay for the potion, or otherwise, talented enough to pick the material faster than the others, had no business staying in the class and was granted permission to work on private projects, upon which they'd be marked during their examinations. It was why neither Hermione nor Daphne was present in the class, except a bunch of averages that were still struggling to play catch-up.

"Mr. Potter," Babbling's voice distracted him, "please stay behind after class."

Harry nodded and sat down, closing his books with a loud sigh. As the class tapered down to a finish, he found the students slowly leaving one after the other. Parkinson threw a hateful look at him on her way out, which he ignored with practised ease.

The sad part? He couldn't even bring himself to care about it. Compared to the mess he had gotten himself in, Pansy's silly mind games probably registered as entertainment.

"I've noticed you didn't pay attention during class," Babbling commented once they were alone.

That was a lie. He had paid attention. Only for the first ten minutes of the lecture. Then he realised the subject matter and had tuned out.

"Professor, it's just that—" He began, unsure how to word it.

"You took the potion."

"...Yeah."

Harry flinched as Babbling raised her wand up. It took every bit of mental control to not instantly snap his own wrist and summon his wand. It was probably because he instinctively knew that despite being there for the last four years of Hogwarts, this teacher had never once tortured, attacked, or attempted to kill him.

He only glanced at her wand— rosewood, the same as Fleur's, as she flicked it towards the door, instantly sealing it with a triple warding scheme. The wand movement hadn't been a spell, but a password of sorts, activating a ward scheme employed at the door to keep nosy eavesdroppers out.

"A combination of Colloportus and Repello charms, embedded in a temporary ward scheme," She explained, "My classroom is my playground, Mr. Potter. I keep trying new and somewhat unstable ward schemes from time to time."

Harry wondered if Fred and George had ever taken rune classes.

The black-haired, dark-skinned woman turned to face him and frowned. "You must be wondering why I asked you to attend this class."

He had some idea, but that was beside the point.

"When Miss Delacour approached me with her project, I admit I was surprised. The ward she designed was already close enough for her to submit a thesis for her wardmastery. However, she was more interested in pursuing her other project, involving a magic unlike any other. Honestly, I'm still sceptical about it, which is why…" she met his eyes. "I'd like you to demonstrate it for me."

"Demonstrate…" He trailed off, unsure of what she was asking.

"Mr. Potter," said Babbling, "I'm well aware of your status as a Warlock, as well as its implications. That you've taken the Potion means you have some interest in the subject. Professor Vector told me that you signed up for her fourth-year class. What is it that you are after? A wardmastery like Miss Delacour? Or perhaps becoming an Unspeakable?"

His breath hitched at that. "I… I'm not fully certain, Professor. My power is not exactly conventional. At least, not according to the magic taught at Hogwarts. In fact, I'm not sure if I can even call it magic."

"What do you call it?"

Harry pursed his lips for a moment. "Death."

"Death," Babbling repeated.

"...Yes."

"What does it do?"

"It, well, breaks enchantments."

"Care for a demonstration?" she asked, and pointed at the door.

"Are— do you think that's such a good idea?" He asked. He wasn't sure how Death would affect the underlying spells in the classroom if it touched the door.

"We wouldn't know until we find out."

"...Fine."

With a flick of his wrist, his wand came spinning into his palm. He took a deep and calming breath, and reached inside himself. The power inside him was solid, ready to be used whenever it was needed, content to wait until then. It was the power he had used all his life.

But it wasn't what he needed right now.

Instead he dug for something deeper.

Darker.

Something that was cold like frost, and yet more restless than fire. Agitated, like an angry serpent, yet coiled and focussed until it was time to strike. It practically surged inside him with an almost conscious and insistent desire to be unleashed.

Harry gave it an exit.

A translucent grey sprang out of his wand, traversing the distance between himself and the door within a single second, and struck the enchantment. There was no light, no sounds of explosion. Instead the glow on the door faded out of existence, reducing it to an ordinary wooden door.

With cracks forming in the middle of it.

Damn it. Harry scowled. All of that practice and he was still far from controlling it. He was supposed to break only the enchantment, not snap all magic out of the bloody door in the process.

Babbling gaped.

"That…" She took a moment to compose her thoughts, "wasn't what you call breaking enchantments, Potter."

Harry looked at her sheepishly. "I overdid it. I'm still learning how to control it, to be honest."

"Yes but…." she swallowed, "Mr. Potter, what you did wasn't breaking it, or nullifying even. By wind, it wasn't magical disintegration either. The magic simply faded from existence. That— isn't right."

Harry couldn't help but smirk just a little. Babbling was right. Undoing, nullification or disintegration— all of that ended up with either converting the magic of the enchantment into something harmless, or rendering it into an energy form. But Death worked differently. Death took magic, and removed it out of the picture.

It deleted it., breaking a dozen laws in the process.

"What— what is this thing?"

Damned good question. One that both Sirius and Fleur had run him ragged trying to answer it. "Death. Anti-magic. Take your pick."

Babbling blinked. "Come again?"

Harry exhaled. Only one explanation came to mind. "It's like this, Professor. Consider the fundamental aspects of this world around us. Fire, water, air, earth, the elements — all of them are part of the world's physical infrastructure. You cannot remove any of these without destroying the world."

Babbling nodded.

"So, we can say that these elements are part of the natural state of the world. Correct?"

Nod.

"What about magic? Is it too… part of the natural state of the world?"

It was hard not to smile. The sudden crack on Babbling's features was a delight to watch. He must have looked the same way when Ignotus had posed this exact question before him.

"Magic is… is…" For once, the professor looked utterly conflicted. Runecrafting was a sub-division of Symbology, one of the fundamental tenets of magical theory. To agree with him naturally went against every single thing she believed in, and yet, she could not just deny the truth behind his words.

"It feels weird, isn't it?" Harry asked, a familiar coldness spreading through him. "You and I are a witch and wizard, standing in a school of magic. But think for a moment, this magic… is it really a vital part of this world? Would this world cease to exist, if…." his voice went down to a whisper, "if Magic ceases to exist?"

Babbling's face turned pale.

It made him smile.

"Pott— Potter, I understand what you're trying to say, but magic— magic cannot—"

"It is a simple question, Professor. If tomorrow you woke up and found that magic did not exist, would you still be alive? Would the world still turn?"

She nodded, but only barely.

"Thus, we can agree that Magic, contrary to popular belief, is an extra. An Outsider to the Natural state of the universe."

Babbling shifted her weight to her left foot uncomfortably. Harry had read somewhere that magic was closely woven to a witch or wizard's faith. You needed to believe in it for the magic to work— not just that it will happen, but that it should happen. For someone that had devoted her life to comprehending symbols and using them to invoke magic naturally, without the use of props, the sheer idea of magic being alien to the world was —

Excruciating.

There was a possibility that this just might be the last time he had stepped into the Ancient Runes classroom.

"My power, Death, is part of the Natural state of the universe, professor. All things age, all things die. In the end, even the Sun will burn out and the earth will be destroyed. All creation will eventually meet its destruction. Part of its function is to destroy anything that disturbs the Natural state of the world."

"And that is what your power does? Destroys?"

"Destroys life. Destroys progression. Destroys… magic."

Babbling stayed quiet for several seconds. "Then why are you… why are you studying runecraft?"

And there it was. The crux of the issue.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I… I just have this idea in my head, a stupid idea really—"

"Tell me about it."

Harry cocked his head slightly. This was the first time a teacher had taken this much personal interest in his education. Or maybe it was the nature of their discussion, the absolute taboo that he represented that held Babbling's curiosity.

"I did a little study during the summer. There are four fundamental tenets of magical theory. Arithmancy, Symbology, Evocation and Faith. This power, it might not be magic, but it affects the world just like magic does. I was thinking that I could use symbology and evocation to… you know, derive spells out of it."

"Spells powered by Death," said Babbling, "like necromancy."

Harry frowned. He wasn't sure if necromancy was even part of the power that he wielded. "I don't have the answer to that question right now, professor. But I'm hoping to find out."

Babbling was quiet for several seconds before nodding slowly. "Hybridising a new form of magic—or, energy through symbology to create spell matrices. No, it is more like you want to use this… energy as an actual material to alter properties of objects, living or inanimate. Only instead of the physical properties, you are altering its magical or spiritual properties." She cocked her head. "How much progress have you made?"

"...none," Harry admitted. "I was hoping fourth-year Arithmancy would—"

"Do nothing," Babbling finished for him. "Honestly, Potter, you are a conundrum. Part of me wants to bind you in a magically-sealed chest and throw you into the dark depths of the Pacific. Another part of me cannot help but stand in awe of your appraisable feat. To be able to produce something like this, forgive me, but a child…"

Harry bit his tongue, barely holding back a comment that made a connection between his 'appraisable feats' and events that have nearly killed him, maimed him or caused people and beings vastly more dangerous than him to react in all kinds of unpredictable ways. Instead he just nodded his head in gratitude.

"Miss Delacour wishes to use your magic as a fabric for a new warding technology. I had my suspicions at first, but now I'm confident. Say Potter, are you interested in personal instruction? I believe Septima might be interested in the same."

Harry widened his eyes. Private instruction from the two of them? That would definitely turn out to be useful.

"Uh, sure, I mean, if it isn't a problem—"

Babbling clapped her hands. "Excellent. I'll speak to the Headmaster about this arrangement. But I do not foresee any problems. So long as you provide an acceptable degree of work, perhaps we can arrange for your OWLs in both subjects this year."

It was kind of funny actually. He had never been this studious before. But then again, he hadn't been stuck in such a situation before either. Between his conversation with Sirius, his crippled affinity towards standard magic, and the uncontrolled flux of Death within him, he was really in for an uphill climb.

And his Death ability? It represented a centennial potential.

His thoughts vanished as Babbling slumped down into her chair with an exhausted sigh.

"You know," she said after a moment, face buried in her hands. "I should probably forget about teaching at Hogwarts, and retire somewhere distant, spending my time helping you create runescripts. My life has always been about creating derivatives from Futhark, but if what you say is true, then this represents the chance to create an entirely different art form. Between myself and Septima, we could even put your Family Magic in terms of arithmantic equations, and with Miss Delacour's knowledge of warding…"

Her expression dissolved into a state of bliss.

"Uhm—"

His voice shook her from whatever reverie she had gotten lost in. "Oh, you're still here. Well, off you go. I have much to think and talk about. I'll send you a note soon, Potter."

"But—" He attempted, but could only step back as she strode towards him, until he was standing outside the door, only for it to shut in his face.

"Wow," came the familiar voice of Daphne Greengrass, who he noticed was resting against the wall behind him. "You sure are a real charmer, Potter."

Harry exhaled. "Yep. I totally know that."

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