Tuesday, 3rd September 1991
The following day passed much like the first, the only interesting parts in the morning at breakfast when the 'Golden Trio' – as the Gryffindors had been dubbed – came into the great hall looking harried. Harry was surprised to see the red and gold hourglass filled with even more coal than it had been the night before, but soon enough he learnt from Draco's boasts that he had tricked them into going to the trophy room after curfew with the promise of an honour duel. Harry was slightly nervous that it would kick off a prank war, and he was proven correct when Draco strode into the hall angrily, the effect slightly diminished by his bright pink hair and long, flowing beard of the same colour.
Later in the day, they had their first History of Magic lesson, and to say that Harry was disappointed was an understatement. Before a quarter of an hour was up, more than half of the class had fallen asleep and the other half – including Harry – were doing essays in different subjects. It was when he was finishing off the transfiguration homework when he realised he needed a book from the library.
He had held up his hand for several minutes before realising that the ghost that was teaching them probably didn't even realise there were students present, as he hadn't turned around to look at the class once. Harry picked up a quill, and threw it behind him, so that it clattered against the wall. When the professor gave no indication that he'd heard anything, Harry silently gathered up his supplies, and walked out of the door, closely followed by Blaise who'd had the same idea.
After lunch, they had their first flying lesson. Harry had been in the library completing his potions homework, but was glad to have a break and go outside. Apparently, the weather ward that prevented rain didn't stop the wind or cold, so they were all huddled together on the field, waiting for Madame Hooch to arrive.
Only a few minutes later she came striding out of one of the sheds located on the edge of the grounds holding a bundle of brooms. She quickly handed them all out, and told them to stand two brooms-lengths apart with the brooms lying on the floor next to them. Harry looked around at the others, and could clearly see who had ridden a broom before and who had not. Charles in particular was looking incredibly smug, and Harry could admit from the time he had spent watching his brother fly during the summer that he probably deserved to.
Madam Hooch's harsh voice broke him out of his thoughts with a jolt, "Everyone hold their wand-arm over their broom and command it to enter your hand like this. "UP!"
There was a chorus of students yelling, and Harry was pleased to see his broom leap directly into his hands. He felt the long cylinder of cracked wood and grimaced when he realised just how bad the quality really was. He wondered how long ago it had been since they had been replaced, and his suspicions were confirmed when he overheard Charles a second later whispering loudly that his father had spent his first year on the same brooms.
He looked around, it seemed that over half of the students had managed it on the first try, but for the others, their brooms had either simply rolled over or stayed completely still. While they were still trying to summon their brooms, Madam Hooch explained the proper grip that a beginner should use. Some of the students were arguing, before she threatened to put any students who did not mount their brooms in a safe manner in detention. Harry's was mostly correct, his hands were just slightly further forwards, but just as he was correcting it there was a loud scream and he looked around sharply to see a blur shoot upwards in the sky.
Harry looked on as Neville Longbottom's broom stopped catapulting him, and instead seemed to just stop working at all. Seconds later there was a sickening crunch that had Harry wincing. Madam Hooch rushed over, before assuring the class that it was just his wrist that was broken. She also threatened anyone who dared move a muscle before she got back with the harshest punishment she could inflict.
Of course it was only a minute later before Malfoy strode over to a shining object in the grass and held it up to the light. It looked like a large clear glass sphere, and Draco smirked with satisfaction. "Looks like Longbottom's forgotten something…"
Harry leaned over to Theo for an explanation, who quickly responded with, "It's a Remembrall. Usually used to determine if someone's forgotten something, but it was originally designed to detect if the user has been obliviated. It doesn't really help you put your memories back together, only really good mind healers can do that effectively, but it can be useful in figuring out the problem. Of course, if you practice Occlumency you don't need it, but… oh no. What's Draco doing now?"
Theo was right to question him, because Draco was completely disregarding Madam Hooch's instruction and had risen a metre off the ground to escape Charles who was trying to get the Remembrall back. Harry watched, mildly amused, as each of them started throwing progressively worse insults at each other and flying even higher.
Suddenly, Draco seemed to see something behind Charles' back, and he yelled one last thing at Charles before chucking the Remembrall as high and far as he could and swiftly landing back on the ground. Charles dived after it, pushing the old school broom to its limits and stretching out to try and catch it. Unfortunately for him, it became evident what Draco had seen that had forced him to the ground so quickly. Professor McGonagall's furious voice drifted over the grass, and Harry could see her striding red-faced across the field. A moment later, Charles was being dragged back inside and Draco's smirk was wider than ever.
Madam Hooch came back a few minutes after that, and after lecturing the class on the dangers of flying without a professional in the area, she let them take off and fly around the pitch incredibly slowly. Even though they were moving slower than running pace, it was still a struggle to stay on the broom, as the wind tried ferociously to tear them away from the wood and slam them against the grass. Harry was glad when they made their way back inside, but smiled at the sight of Professor McGonagall's office door still firmly shut.
After the initial excitement of going to a school of magic had died down, the days began to blur together. Most of the lessons remained interesting, but they were predictable and Harry had already learnt most of the content in his free time while pouring over the assigned books during the summer. Potions became more bearable, surprisingly Professor Snape had kept his promise and was treating Harry equally – although the same was not the case for Charles. He had been forced to continue the lessons despite his constant whining, and had scored a Dreadful in the essay about wolfsbane. Charles had been truly terrified of the man from that point on, and he had heard various rumours from Gryffindor that the famous Boy-Who-Lived was trying and failing to brew the antidote for the potion in his free time. After taking a quick look at the recipe, Harry realised that it was a third-year potion and far above Charles' skill. Harry possibly could have done it if he was helped by Theo, but it would have been difficult and probably would have required multiple attempts.
He was fairly average at Transfiguration, but it became clear to him after the first week that the technique of expanding his magical power was definitely working. He was able to power most transfigurations for at least a second longer than anyone else – including Theo who had managed to shine in the subject.
He was near the top of the class in Charms, and he had memorised more than double the incantations that most students had – barring the purebloods who had been studying the theory for years by that point. The charms that Professor Flitwick had taught them thus far were: 'Lumos', the wand-lighting charm, 'Aguamenti', the water-making spell 'Tergeo', the cleaning charm and 'Tempus', the charm to tell the time. They were useful in day-to-day life, but Harry had found the spells the snakes taught him much more interesting. They included, but were not limited to, several duelling and self defence charms, including the stunning spell, tripping jinx, jelly legs, severing charm and the ripping curse. 'Lacero' had been the only curse he had been taught, and the snakes had made sure that he was aware of just how dangerous it really was. Unlike 'Diffindo', 'Lacero' was much more random and chaotic. While the severing charm could be used on inanimate objects such as string with great accuracy, the ripping curse would shred anything.
It was just as well that he was learning defence spells, because the Defence Against the Dark Arts class that Harry had been looking forward to had turned out to be a disappointment arguably greater than History of Magic. The professor stuttered over every word, sometimes abandoning sentences altogether when they got too long. As well as that, he had attempted to teach the class the jelly-legs jinx, but had got no less than five aspects of it wrong. Couple that with the unbearable stench of garlic wafting around the stuffy room, and the fact that whenever Harry looked at the professor he suffered an immense headache, and the result was a class he dreaded.
Fortunately, the other classes were a lot better, though still a far cry from fun. Astronomy may have been interesting, but because it was always at midnight it disrupted everyone's sleep schedules. It was also another opportunity for Draco to boast about how expensive his telescope was, but Harry managed to tune him out quite effectively after a few days of whinging.
Harry didn't mind herbology, however the same could not be said for most of the Slytherins. The purebloods hated being forced to do what they called, "A commoner's work", and it was only upon further inquisition that he realised that all the pureblood manors were next to vast amounts of land that were worked on by much less powerful wizards. They were usually classed as squibs, and as such never had the opportunity to go to a prestigious school like Hogwarts. Instead, they went to several much smaller ministry-run 'education centres', but most of the time the children were forced to work from a young age. Harry wondered if there were tenants of Potter Manor, and resolved to find out during the summer.
Thursday, 31st October 1991
Nothing much of interest happened for the next two months after the initial start of the school year, but Harry woke up early on Halloween by Theo knocking at his door. The first-years had taken to talking inside each-others rooms because of the increasing number of hate filled glares that were shot across the common room every time Harry and Tracey walked through it. Harry suspected that the only reason no one had done anything yet was because they were under the unofficial protection of the heirs. Even then, it was rare for someone to knock on his door, so Harry ushered Theo in quickly.
Theo leaned back against the wall after a second, and let out a drawn out sigh. "Harry, what do you know about the Old Ways?"
Harry's mind raced, he had seen a few mentions of them in books about Celtic traditions, but as far as he knew they were all illegal. "I think they're rituals that take place on four occasions, Samhain, Yule, the Summer solstice, and Imbolc. They usually involve blood and sacrifice and thus were banned as part of the 1789 blood act. Why?"
"That's the gist of them, but they are slightly more complicated. Each time has its own ritual, the Samhain ritual is for calling the spirits of those you've lost, Yule is for family, Imbolc is to celebrate the coming of spring, and the Summer solstice rituals are to keep bad spirits away. They date back to the pagan times, and invoke one of the most powerful and raw magics that have ever existed. That being said," Theo grimaced, "what you said is correct about them being highly illegal. The minimum jail time is five years."
"Samhain is today, isn't it?"
"It is, and that's what I'd like to talk to you about. The rituals require an even number of people to participate, and at the moment there are only eleven people attending."
"You want me to be the twelfth, then. Why not ask Blaise? Wouldn't he accept?"
"His family is from Italy, his ancestors wouldn't respond to the call because we're so far away. As for anyone else, can you imagine Pansy volunteering to complete an illegal ritual?"
Harry chuckled, "nah, it would disturb her makeup"
"Exactly, so what do you say?"
"When is it and what do I need to sacrifice?"
"Tonight, we'll go down to the dungeons and I'll show you a slip of paper that allows you to enter the temple. As for the sacrifice, you don't need to worry about it. We'll be doing a relatively benign ritual, so all we need is a bucket of chicken's blood and a couple of drops of our own. I already have all of the materials we need, including a bare ritual knife for you if you want it."
"How does it work?"
"The chicken's blood acts as an anchor to the world of the living, as well as a protection circle. None of the spirits can leave, but equally nothing that wants to remove them can get inside. The blood we would provide contains our magical signature, and if it is willingly given, a bit of your family magic as well. If the blood is pure enough and the dagger is uncorrupted, the ancestors will accept the offering and you can speak with them for a short amount of time. It completely drains your magic, but you should be fine in the morning."
"What do you mean, if my blood is pure enough?"
"When a person uses magic, some of it leaks into your blood. If that person has a child, the magic in the person's blood is passed down, and eventually that specific bloodline will have a unique signature if there is a tendency of one specific type of magic being used. That signature can be read, and it can determine exactly what family you are from easily. However if you use a more complex detection charm, you can trace every single piece of magic a person has cast up until that point, and it can be compared with another signature and a very long equation that takes into account how faint each trace is along with how much time has passed since the first blood sample has been taken to determine if that person is who they claim to be. The signature is also more useful than just for checking if someone is who they say they are; If, for example, a family mostly spends their time doing Transfiguration, each descendent of the line will be better at Transfiguration than they will be at anything else, because their blood will be more… I don't know how to put it into words, I suppose 'in line with the spell' would be best. That works with you as well, the Potter family is renowned for their Transfiguration skills and therefore you will be better at it than others."
"So there is actually a point to pureblood supremacy?" Harry said, annoyance creeping into his tone.
"Kind of, yes. But, the advantage is so slim it isn't really worth talking about. There's also the point that if you go on to become a Potions master, and never do Transfiguration, you'll be just as good as any Mu— Muggleborn that does it. Most Purebloods exaggerated it quite a lot because it made them so special, and eventually it just turned into a political movement. At least, that's what I've been told."
"I guess that makes sense. What about what you said about the dagger having to be 'uncorrupted'?"
"So, usually in rituals, you would normally use your family's ritual knife. That's because it's saturated with your blood, and therefore your family signature. If you use a knife that's seen the blood of another, unfortunately the magic can become overwritten and the blood loses a lot of its potential."
"I guess it could be interesting… sure. I'll do it," Harry thought for a second, before he pulled out the dagger from the sheath at his waist. From the look of surprise on Theo's face, the notice-me-not charm clearly stopped as soon as it was removed. Good to Know.
:Were you the Potter family ritual blade?: he hissed, ignoring Theo as the surprise on his face turned to shock.
The snakes twisted to look at him and hissed in tandem. :Once upon a time, yesss. I assssume you ssshall be partaking in the Sssamhain Ritualsss tonight. The blood that runsss down thisss dagger isss pure, we made sssure of that asss the forgersss:
Theo's gaze switched from the dagger to Harry as soon as he stopped speaking, "You- you're a parselmouth?"
"Yes. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say that to anyone else, the dagger is a secret. Anyway, I have my own ritual knife, you don't need to worry about that."
"Right. Well, I – er – I'd better be off now. See you tonight."
Harry watched Theo leave in amusement. At least he didn't need to keep the dagger a secret anymore when around him, and Theo wouldn't tell. If he did, Harry would be able to get him in Azkaban for practicing dark rituals. He smiled, it wasn't even breakfast and something interesting had already happened. He cast a quick Tempus and quickly left the room after Theo, going up to the great hall with an older student.
At one thirty in the afternoon, Harry and the rest of the Slytherin first-years filed into the potions classroom in the dungeons. Unlike all of their previous lessons, they were attempting to make a potion that took twenty-three hours to brew: the wound-cleansing concoction. This was their second lesson of the brew, and they didn't have many more ingredients to add. Harry and Theo made their way to the back of the classroom, and checked their potion. It had been simmering for the past twenty hours, and it was a perfect pastel pink. They picked up the cauldron, and lugged it over to their workstation ignoring several cries of dismay when others realised they'd messed up a step. According to the book, they next had to add three crushed beetle heads, an ingredient that Theo had already begun to prepare. Skimming through the rest of the potion, Harry realised that they still had another three sprigs of Heaving Herb to add, before they needed to stir it twenty-three and a half turns clockwise.
As he was letting Theo add the crushed beetle heads, he looked around the room at the other students' concoctions. Theirs was the closest to the desired hue, but Lavender Brown's was a close second. She and her friend, Parvati Patil, had been the only ones to keep up with them so far, as Snape had been advancing the class at a much faster rate than most people could keep up with. His mind flicking back to a family tree he had found a few weeks ago, he remembered that the Browns owned one of the foremost potion breweries in the country, so it made sense that she would be ahead. At the moment, she was talking to Ronald and Charles, but it didn't seem to be going very well. Harry assumed from the vague snippets of conversation he managed to catch that Lavender was attempting to help them with a mistake, but Ronald was rebuking her.
It only took another couple of seconds before Snape made his appearance ominously behind them, and Lavender scurried back to her cauldron just in time to add the crushed beetle heads that Theo was just finishing up. Both Ronald and Charles grew angrier at the point loss – one that had been given for no particular reason – and they began talking to each other in furious whispers. They abated after Snape took another few points off, but the talking was replaced by identical evil smirks. Harry just shrugged and added the Heaving Herb quickly. Whatever they were planning, there was a high likelihood that it wasn't about him. He wondered when the inevitable confrontation would occur, he hadn't really had any communications with any side of his family so far. Although he kept meaning to talk with Aurora, she always stayed within her huddle of Ravenclaw girls, and there was never an opportunity. He had scrawled back a response to his father – which was mostly full of assurances – but his brother had yet to approach him.
Almost before he realised it, the bell for the end of the lesson rang. He quickly bottled the potion and placed it on Snape's desk, ready for grading, before walking out with the rest of his year. Suddenly, there was a commotion from behind him. He turned around and spotted Lavender running down a corridor of the dungeon away from Ronald, whose face was slightly red. A telltale jeer of "I think she heard you, mate" said by Charles showed that it had been their doing. He wondered how long it would take Lavender to make her way out of the dungeons, before deciding that he didn't really care. Abandoning the main group was a stupid thing to do, no matter who had insulted you.
Given that it was only three forty, Harry decided that it would be a good idea to head to the library before he went to dinner. He was in the middle of an interesting book about Alchemy, but couldn't help noticing that Charles, Ronald and Seamus Finnegan were making a beeline out of the school and down to Hagrid's hut. They were all wearing serious expressions, and Harry did need to test out the new charm he had learnt that amplified all sounds that entered his ear, so he packed all his books away in his bag, and set out after them. They were firmly set on their destination, so they never noticed him sneaking behind them around a hundred metres away. As soon as they got out of range of the castle's chaotic noise, he pointed his wand at his ears and whispered "Sono Magna". Suddenly the trio's voices were crystal clear.
"It's huge! Who would want to keep that in a school!"
"Me."
"Well of course you would, but you're the Boy-Who-Lived! I mean, it's dangerous!"
"Of course it is. It's guarding something."
"I'm still not sure that it was a trapdoor, it could have just been some discoloured floorboards."
"Nah, there was an iron ring and everything"
It seemed like they were discussing some kind of magical creature, which would have made sense given that they were going to Hagrid. While he had never met the oaf, his reputation in Slytherin was fairly divided on whether he was psychopathic or just stupid. The trio reached the door, and knocked hard on the solid oak. They were ushered in after a second, and Harry dared to move closer to the back of the cottage. It was unlikely that there were any wards around Hagrid's hut, but there was always a chance, so he was prepared to bolt at the slightest indication that he had been found. Fortunately, nothing happened, and he pressed his ear to the wall of the hut and listened.
"'Ow do yeh know bou' Fluffy!" Hagrid's gruff voice came through the wall loudly. Harry winced, it was one downside of the charm; if something was too loud, it would still be magnified.
"Fluffy?" Charles' voice was much more managed, but Harry could still detect a note of outrage in it.
"Yeah, he's mine. I bought 'im off some Canadian chappie last year."
"What's he guarding then?" Finnegan said impatiently.
"Who said anythin' bou' guardin'?" Hagrid sounded almost panicked at that point, "Now that's between Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Flamel, that is."
There was an audible gasp as the man processed what he had said, "Now, I didn' mean nothin'. Back to the castle wit' yeh! Out!"
That was all Harry needed to hear before he ran. So there was a creature named Fluffy that was guarding something that had something to do with a Mr. Flamel. Chances were, it was something to do with the third floor and the 'horrible death' that Dumbledore had talked about. It was far too risky to go there in the middle of the day, but Harry also didn't have a reliable method of sneaking out after dark. He would have to look into that, but something he could do in the meantime was go and ask Blaise about Flamel. The name didn't sound English, so it was more likely that someone from the continent would know something about it.
"Five galleons," was the response he had been given as soon as he relayed his question to Blaise.
"Five galleons? Come on, that's ridiculous," Harry said, outraged.
"You aren't going to find it anywhere in the library, and there isn't much chance anyone else knows about him. Pay up."
"It does seem a little excessive though, you have to admit," Harry complained.
Blaise smiled, "Either pay, or spend the next month trawling through books."
"Fine," Harry said, handing over five heavy gold coins, "but the information better be worth it."
"Right…" Blaise cleared his throat and puffed out his chest in mock importance. "Nicholas Flamel is an alchemist born over six hundred and fifty years ago. He's famous for the creation of the Philosophers Stone – something that lets you be pseudo-immortal – but his last contribution to the magical world was just over fifty years ago, when he and Dumbledore co-authored on the paper on the twelve uses of dragon's blood. He used to take apprentices, but I think his last one was Dumbledore. That's why you wouldn't have found anything about him in recent books."
"What's the philosopher's stone?"
"Another five galleons," Blaise said cheekily.
"Absolutely not," was Harry's firm response.
"Fine… The philosopher's stone, otherwise known as the Sorcerer's stone, is like the holy grail of Alchemy. Instead of having to mentally transmute everything yourself, you just give it a command with intent and it manages everything for you. Most things can be alchemised easily… for some definitions of 'easily' at least, but the things the stone was designed for can't. Namely, Gold and the Elixir of Life"
That sounded interesting to Harry, if a little pompously named. "The Elixir of Life?"
"The best healing potion ever created. I think it was first brewed around 300 AD by some Roman philosopher who isolated himself and spent fifty years to get just a single successful phial. It takes something like five hundred ingredients and three years to brew. Any mistake, and it fails. That's why it's almost impossible to make the normal way, and he's the only person in history to have done it… that we know of, at least. Alchemists realised that with an Aid to Transmutation – i.e. the philosopher's stone – it can be made in a month. When it's done, it can cure any injury and can even rejuvenate an old body, making the person who drinks it nearly immortal"
Not pompously named, then. "So let me get this straight, if he wanted to, Nicholas Flamel could destabilise the entire economy of the world and become an immortal emperor?"
"Pretty much. He doesn't, though. I think he lives in Devon in a cottage with his wife."
"Right… I… I think I have to go do something."
Harry's mind was whirling. The Philosopher's stone. It sounded too good to be true, but apparently it was in Hogwarts? Harry didn't doubt that the headmaster would be arrogant or mad enough to think that no one could get to it, but it also meant there were probably several more traps than what first appeared. The first stage, however, would be to get past Fluffy. So that meant he had to learn disillusionment or some other method to be undetectable. Before he could research that any further, however, it was time for the Halloween feast.