~An Emerald Amongst a Sea of Stone~
Chapter Twelve
Christmas, Harry found, wasn't something he cared about particularly much.
While the Dursleys had usually celebrated the occasion wholeheartedly – mainly by way of spoiling Dudley rotten – naturally, he had always been excluded from their festivities.
And as things happened to be, his attitude towards the holiday hadn't changed since arriving in the castle. Even though, for the first time in his life, he'd be able to spend Christmas outside of his former, perfectly terrible prison, he couldn't quite muster the excitement everyone suggested was appropriate.
His friends, who had returned to their homes over the holidays, had promised to send him a couple of gifts; yet there had been no itch in his fingers whatsoever, to stand up and rush down to the common room the first thing in the morning.
Instead, he had completed Snape's potions assignment.
A dreadfully dry and boring affair, but one which had needed completion either way. Somehow, it felt quite liberating, knowing he was already done with the entirety of his homework and still had another week and a half left until classes resumed.
As he stowed away his inkpot and quill, his eyes briefly flickered over towards the intimidatingly large tome on occlumency which he had borrowed from the restricted section a night back.
It had cost him quite a lot of willpower to undertake a trip to the harrowing place a second time. At first, he had procrastinated, instead deciding to study the numerous other books he had stolen alongside The History of the Dark Arts and Magick Moste Evile.
But once it had become apparent that his efforts would yield no further results, he had bitten into the sour apple, so to speak, and gotten it over with.
Those, however, were thoughts for the past.
The only thing that mattered now, was becoming proficient enough in occlumency to successfully reduce the side effects which casting dark magic would inevitably have on him.
Naturally, the idea of actually casting the Cruciatus himself had been unnerving at first. But as time went on, he had managed to accept it as a necessary, inevitable evil.
There were worse things to sacrifice than his innocence. Or what was left of it.
The fact that he would have no issues mustering up enough hatred to use the curse already spoke volumes about his virtue. And that he had multiple sources to draw it from only solidified his already blemished hands further.
Four, to be exact…
Harry shook his head, forcing his thoughts to return to the matter at hand. His eyes rested on the occlumency book for a moment longer, until he decided that his first meditation attempt could wait for later.
It would've felt wrong to leave the Christmas gifts unopened, after all.
Opening up the cufflinks of his robes, he made his way downstairs, where – near the large glass front separating him from the waters of the great lake – a magnificent, magically decorated Christmas tree awaited him.
Harry smiled ever so slightly. Petunia would've been jealous…
He eyed the selection of gifts under the tree curiously. There were only a couple handful left, some belonging to one Calypso Rosier and the rest to him. Undoubtedly, the few Slytherins who'd remained at the castle for the holidays had already collected their own.
Let's see…
In total, he counted five gifts addressed to him. One from Nott, one from Tracey, one from Blaise, and one from Greengrass. The last package, however – a piece of clothing by the looks of it – didn't list a sender.
Weird… Harry thought. Despite his itch to tear it open, he decided to leave it for last.
From Tracey, he received a selection of Honeydukes' best candy – jelly slugs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, pumpkin pastries, and of course: the infamous chocolate frogs. Never having tasted magical sweets before, he decided to pop one of the animated chocolates into his mouth, eyeing the card attached to it curiously.
"Herpo the Foul – creator of the Basilisk, Dark Lord, and emperor of magical Greece between 958 and 1067 AD."
He frowned. Didn't figure Dark Lords had their own chocolate frog cards. Makes sense though. At the end of the day they're historical figures just like any others.
Putting the box of candies aside, he moved onto the next gift. Taking care not to tear the wrapping, he opened Blaise's package. As he slowly lifted off the lid of the box hidden inside, a quiet, glassy clink filled his ears.
Between an array of Slytherin-green, velvet cushions, rested a half-dozen vials filled with a fluorescent, indigo liquid. A small note rested atop the corked vials.
"Merry Yule, Harry.
These are wit-sharpening potions my mother gave me directly from our warehouse in Sicily. They are rather expensive and highly toxic, so use them sparingly. If you find yourself in need of a spontaneous cognitive boost, however, I dare say these will exceed your expectations. One dose will last for about an hour, and they don't spoil.
Sincerely,
Your friend Blaise"
It would've been a lie to say Harry wasn't impressed. Blaise was by far the closest of his friends amongst their group, but he certainly hadn't expected to receive such a valuable gift from the boy. Not that he particularly cared about the potions' monetary value – more so that the gift was one that would prove supremely useful.
The pair of unloseable-charmed dragon hide gloves he'd gifted his roommate certainly paled in comparison. He closed the box, vowing to lock them away in his drawer until the time was right.
Onto the next…
Nott's gift turned out to be a small but appreciated one: an annual subscription to Duelling Daily – the most popular duelling magazine on the market. It featured results, insights into the professional scene, interviews with champions, and even pointers for those who wished to improve at the art. Overall, a fitting gift.
Greengrass's package followed not soon after. By its outside appearance, he could already tell that it was a book – which wasn't all that surprising, considering he had expected most of his friends to opt for one as a gift.
What did manage to catch his attention though, was the fact that the book in question didn't look like it had been store-purchased. Its leather was weathered and had dark spots all over. The cover was slightly dusty and had definitely been handled in the past.
Since he didn't take Greengrass for someone to gift something second hand, he figured that the tome came from her family's personal collection. Considering the title, it made sense. After all she'd once mentioned in passing that her father was a retired solicitor.
Wizarding Law and Tradition
A small, personalised dedication greeted him as he opened the book.
"For Harry,
This book was gifted to my father many years ago. Since our family has no use for it any longer, we decided to entrust it to you, who will undoubtedly find it far more helpful than we ever could.
It includes a list of traditions, laws, and tricks every future head of house should know. It may be slightly outdated, but most of the information you will find inside, you can take for granted. These books are usually only ever passed down within families, so I trust you will take good care of it.
I wish you an enjoyable rest of the holidays and a Merry Yule. Most sincerely,
Daphne Greengrass"
A frown marred his features. He had admittedly felt something shift in his and Greengrass's dynamic these past few weeks, but certainly not enough for her to make such a meaningful gift.
Perhaps it's a bit like with Fawley… he pondered. Or she's just trying to thank me for the help on all that homework?
He shook his head. Nothing would come of contemplating the matter. Softly closing the book, he placed it between the array of already opened gifts.
At last, his eyes fell onto the surprise package. The one which didn't list a sender. Its wrapping was a deep violet, splattered with a canvas of golden stars and silver half-moons.
Carefully, he exposed the gift hidden inside.
The fabric in his hands had an incredibly soft and slightly cold, damp feel to it – like a freshly-washed, thin, linen shirt, which hadn't had the chance to dry quite yet. Its silvery surface shimmered in the aquamarine light shining in through the glass to his right.
It took him only a fraction of a second to understand what he was holding in his hands.
An invisibility cloak… His eyes widened.
A small piece of parchment softly floated to his lap. Tentatively, he lowered the cloak, reaching for the note. The words written on it only managed to deepen the frown on his forehead.
"Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well."
My father?
Even if cared for incredibly well, invisibility cloaks rarely ever lasted beyond two years. If this had supposedly been his fathers, the cloak had to be more than five times that old.
Harry shook his head. Impossible.
Carefully, he picked up the hair-thin fabric again, as if to make sure its properties weren't just a trick of the light. Almost immediately, his hand vanished from sight under the cool sensation of the cloak clinging to his skin.
No, it's definitely real. A disbelieved chuckle spilled from his lips. His eyes found the note. Who would even gift me something like this? It must've cost a fortune.
A few names crossed his mind. Flitwick, Fawley, even McGonagall. But none of those made sense. McGonagall had supposedly been close with his father, but one fact remained: the cloak couldn't have possibly belonged to James Potter.
Waving his wand over the artefact, he cast a select few variations of the Revelio charm, trying to see if it had been cursed or tampered with. But his spells yielded no result.
Nothing.
Harry liked to think of himself as someone who was rarely completely clueless. No matter how little information he was presented with, no matter how strange a preset seemed, he usually always had a pretty good idea of what was going on.
But here? He drew a blank.
There was no conceivable reason, no story whatsoever he could imagine, which would have explained this circumstance. He had a thousand ideas in his head, one more ridiculous than the next, but not a single one of them managed to make sense.
As Harry sat there, frown etched into his forehead and confusion marring his features, he decided that – just perhaps – Christmas didn't necessarily have to be as terribly uninteresting as he'd first thought.
After the incident with the invisibility cloak, which Harry had decided to hide away in the enchanted drawer in his desk, the rest of the holidays had passed relatively eventlessly.
He had continued his study of occlumency and joined up with Fawley for a few skirmishes every other night.
All in all, he was quite happy with his progress when in regards to the latter. While Fawley and him hadn't moved past what many considered to be the easiest format of duelling yet, he could genuinely say that he didn't mind that fact particularly much.
Sure, he was curious to try out other, more exciting rulesets; but if one looked at it from a strictly rational perspective, improving at the fast-paced skirmishing would yield him the most benefits in the long term.
Not only did the format transfer best into real-life combat situations - which he was still wary about, especially since Malfoy had been running his mouth an awful lot lately – but it was also the best at building the foundations of the skillset every duelist needed to be successful. Footwork, spell-chaining, and shielding.
And even though he was relatively pleased with the way things were going there, he couldn't exactly say the same thing about his study of occlumency. Not even because of some theoretical complication. No. A practical one.
Occlumency, especially in its first stage, essentially relied on one's ability to clear their mind using meditation – something which, if you didn't look into it too much, sounded easy enough.
Harry couldn't have been more wrong.
To clear your mind, you had to strip it of every single conscious thought, feeling, word there existed. And just how difficult that was, had immediately become apparent once Harry had tried his first hand at meditation.
He had lasted a grand total of zero seconds, before his mind had clung onto some stray thought he'd had earlier that day. Myrtle's giggles had been almost as infuriating as the reality of his failure itself. He had continued practising for a few more hours after that, and not even managed to empty his mind once.
How was he supposed to keep thinking about nothing for minutes when he couldn't even stop thinking in the first place?
His stolen guide on the art had only provided him with a half-hearted encouragement to try again the next day. It had felt like the time he had tried to learn the disillusionment charm, only ten times worse.
The following day had been equally successless. As had the next. And the one after that.
Only on his fifth day, Harry had managed to empty his mind for a fraction of a second – and that was, he suspected, largely because he had only slept five hours the previous night and was already pre-exhausted from a few hours of duelling.
Over the course of the next two weeks, he had only increased his efforts – spending hours trying to meditate at a time. That the book said this was a highly inefficient way of learning occlumency didn't matter to him. He needed to learn, or he would have to start searching for solutions to cure his mother elsewhere.
Slowly but surely, he had started to make progress. By now, he could clear his mind for an average of thirteen seconds, before his focus wavered and thoughts crept back into his psyche.
The problem was that, at this pace, he wouldn't be able to keep his mind still for a sufficient amount of time until at least the end of the semester. And that wasn't even all of it, no.
Mastering the first stage of occlumency only rewarded you with the ability to repel attacks on your mind. What that meant?
The benefits of occlumency which could protect you from the negative side effects of dark magic only became accessible to you once you learned advanced occlumency – an art which supposedly provided you with improved control over your emotions, better willpower, and the ability to manipulate your own memories and thoughts.
That Harry was already struggling so miserably to learn its predecessor, irritated him to no end.
At this pace I might as well be finished with Hogwarts before I start practising the Cruciatus…
There was one method of teaching which would reduce the time required drastically; but it involved a Legilimens – someone who was accomplished in the art of reading minds – repeatedly attacking your mind, until you learnt to clear it out of necessity.
And with how many secrets Harry had, that option had been discarded the moment he'd learned of its existence.
He'd considered asking Fawley for advice on the matter, as she'd mentioned the mind arts once or twice in passing, but ultimately he had decided not to. He first wanted to figure out just what her motives really were.
Which left him with one option only. Continuing to spend his evenings in an abandoned lavatory, attempting to clear his mind as best as he knew for hours at an end.
Just like tonight.
So far, today's session had turned out particularly fruitless, evident by the fact that Harry was only a hair's breadth away from snapping at the ghost who haunted the bathroom.
Myrtle was merrily whistling away the tune of some old Beatles song, seemingly without a care in the world. Personally, he thought she was just trying to piss him off. At this point, he was just exhausted with everything.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. 'Myrtle, would you mind keeping quiet for a moment?' he asked, rubbing his temples.
The girl stopped her musical performance, floating over to his side. 'Oh come on, Harry, you've been practising for hours. I can tell curfew's already passed. Why don't you just call it a day and return to the common room?' she asked with her usual dramatic flair. 'Let a girl sing.'
The headache coursing through Harry's skull intensified. He couldn't bring up the strength to argue back, casting a quick Tempus charm to check the time.
10:35…
His eyes flickered over towards the monstrous occlumency book by his left. He considered trying out some different meditation techniques, but – in all honesty – the weathered tome had never looked as unappealing as now. Harry allowed his head to fall back against the cold, damp wall of the bathroom.
Fuck it… I'm done.
'Maybe you're right. I'll see you tomorrow,' he said tiredly, getting up from the bench.
Myrtle beamed, not bothering at all to hide her happiness at the proclamation. 'Of course, Harry. Sleep well.'
He didn't have the energy to snark back at her. 'Thanks…' he muttered. 'Have fun… singing.'
Despite his exhausted state, Harry decided to cast a disillusionment charm over himself just as he exited the lavatory. There was no need to take any chances, after all.
He strolled through the hallways, trying to shield his eyes from the blinding light of the azure torches lining the walls. They seemed to glow awfully brightly tonight. Likely a byproduct of his hour-long occlumency session.
At least there's no patrols in sight… he figured. Perhaps this night wouldn't end in complete disaster. A small comfort. He regretted his observation not a second later.
'Out for a nightly stroll, Mr. Potter?'
A familiar, wizened voice stopped him in his tracks. Harry whirled around.
Albus Dumbledore, complete with half-moon spectacles and a pair of entirely too attention-drawing, bright-purple robes, stood a few feet away, regarding him with a sparkling, inquisitive glint in his electric-blue eyes.
The headmaster smiled. 'A magnificent disillusionment charm, I have to say. Certainly good enough to fool any of the student patrols. A bit more practice and you might have escaped my notice as well. Alas…' he noted regrettably. '...it seems you aren't quite there yet.'
For a moment, Harry was petrified. He just stood there, frozen in place, with no idea what to say. After what felt like an eternity, he dropped his camouflage.
Words felt like they were stuck in his throat. 'I- Sorry for breaking curfew, sir.'
The headmaster tilted his head incredulously, eyeing him with barely concealed amusement. 'Not even trying to convince me of your innocence, Mr. Potter?' he asked.
Harry shook his head. 'I… No. I was practising in one of the abandoned classrooms and simply forgot about the time, Professor. I apologise for the misconduct.'
'Hm…' Dumbledore pondered, twirling his long, silvery beard. 'Then I fear we won't be able to get around informing your head of house. I'll refrain from taking any points or assigning detention for now. I'm sure Severus will have to say something in regards to that.' He paused, gesturing for him to follow. 'Come, walk with me.'
Harry did, falling into step beside Dumbledore, trying to maintain a calm exterior. In his estimation, he was doing a decent job.
On the inside, he was busy trying to reign in the mixture of irritation and annoyance which burned all throughout his chest. As if the hours of useless occlumency practice and Myrtle's singing hadn't already been bad enough…
Just why did the headmaster have to be patrolling the halls tonight of all days? Why-
He shook his head, trying to measure himself. Getting angry would solve nothing. He didn't care about the possible deduction of points, and the inevitable detention Snape would damn him to was just something he'd have to deal with.
He took a deep breath. Don't get worked up over it…
Quietly, he followed the headmaster down the grand staircase and into the dungeons. About halfway on their stroll to Snape's office, the headmaster spoke again.
'You could have escaped this fate had you just used that cloak of yours, you know?' he noted, as nonchalantly as one would ask about the time or weather.
Harry almost stopped. Thankfully, his legs kept moving without any prompt from his brain. The cloak? His blood froze.
'That was you?' he asked, not even bothering to hide his surprise.
Dumbledore chuckled. 'Oh yes. As I said – it was time I returned it to you. I've had it for far too long.'
'I… What?' Harry asked. 'You said the cloak was my father's.'
The wizened headmaster nodded, his eyes sparkling with mirth. 'Indeed I did.'
'But… But that's impossible. I've read about invisibility cloaks. They don't last that long,' Harry said.
Dumbledore's electric-blue eyes regarded him with an amused look. 'Oh?' he asked. 'You think I am lying?'
'I…' Harry didn't know what to respond.
The headmaster drew a large, melancholic breath. 'Let me tell you something, Harry. Magic… It is so much more than just something to be studied. So much more than some discipline that desires to be mastered. Magic is the wondrous, magic is the unknown, magic is all-encompassing. But, most of all, magic is unpredictable.'
Dumbledore sighed wistfully.
'Each day, we discover things previously unseen about this wonderful, mysterious power that suffuses our world. Never will we have reached a point, where there are no new things left to learn, no new wonders to be marvelled at. There is nothing impossible, nothing that cannot be achieved with the power of magic.'
His eyes fixed Harry with an intense look.
'So, just why do you think that cloak of yours can't have been your fathers? Because some book told you so? I apologise for the insult, Harry, but you are much more intelligent than to blindly believe the words of someone who perhaps doesn't even entirely understand what he's writing about.'
I… What?
Harry was speechless. He didn't even notice that they had stopped in front of Snape's office, and were now regarding each other with respectively stunned and sparkling eyes.
'I… I don't know what to say, sir.'
Dumbledore smiled. 'You need not say anything. The only thing I ask of you, is that you do not fall into the same trap so many great wizards have before you. Magic is not some tool to be harnessed, some discipline to be mastered or science to be studied. Magic is everything and nothing at once. It is all we know and everything we don't understand. Do not lose your sense of wonder over it like so many wizards do. It is the most valuable thing you have.'
Harry felt some odd kind of knot in his throat. It was hard to breathe. He exhaled. 'I… I won't, sir.'
Dumbledore's smile persisted. 'Good.' He gestured towards the door to their side. 'Shall we then?'
He nodded, transported back into reality once more. 'Of course. After you, Professor.'
The moment the door swung aside, a cacophony of voices caught Harry and Dumbledore's ears. Harry frowned, while the aged headmaster raised an incredulous eyebrow.
'Out of bounds?! Four of you?!' McGonagall's shrill voice echoed from around the corner.
'I'm telling you, sir! There was a dragon! I saw it!' insisted Malfoy's voice.
They rounded the corner. Snape was sitting behind his desk, looking as tired as humanly possible. By his eyes, Professor McGonagall seemed to be busy shouting at a collection of students. Malfoy and – to Harry's surprise – Longbottom, Weasley, and Bones. His mood immediately soured.
As if this night couldn't get any worse… The headmaster's smile only seemed to widen as he observed the shift in Harry's demeanour.
The shouting continued for a moment longer, until McGonagall noticed Dumbledore's approaching form.
She drew a large breath, trying to calm herself. 'Thank Merlin you're here Albus. These four-' she trailed off, as she noticed Harry by the headmaster's side. 'Another one?!' she asked stupidly.
Dumbledore smiled genially. 'Not to worry, Minerva. Harry here merely lost track of time practising some spells. I decided to accompany him to Professor Snape's office to make sure he found his way back to the Dungeons,' he explained, his eyes finding the aforementioned man. 'I assume you'll take it from here, Severus?' he asked.
The greasy Professor didn't seem pleased one bit. His lips thinned out until they were nothing more than a line the thickness of a match. His eyes briefly met McGonagall's before shifting away.
'Potter, Malfoy. You will join these three in detention. Fifty points from Slytherin for being caught out of bounds after curfew,' he declared in a dispassionate drawl.
Malfoy moved to protest. 'But-'
'Yes, sir,' Harry interrupted him, nodding evenly. 'It won't happen again.'
McGonagall huffed. It was clear she wanted to add something, but it seemed she had decided to accept the fact that they were Snape's responsibility.
'Very well.' She turned towards Longbottom's little gang. 'Now, what were you thinking?'
Longbottom rubbed his neck in embarrassment. 'I already told you, Professor. I don't know what came over us. We're sorry.'
'Liar!' Malfoy declared. 'You were smuggling the gatekeeper's dragon out the castle. You-!'
'Oh, shut up, Malfoy…' Weasley shot back, rolling his eyes. 'Stop waffling some tosh to get us in trouble. Sure, we broke the rules, but a dragon? Seriously? Who's stupid enough to believe that?'
Malfoy's face reddened. He turned towards Snape. 'Professor, I-'
'Silence!' Snape hissed, finally snapping. 'I do not want to hear a word from any of you. You will all serve detention with Filch the coming Friday night. If I receive notice of another instance like this, suspension will follow. Is that clear?' he demanded.
The students took an involuntary step back, except for Harry, who faced the man's menacing stare without so much as a twitch.
'Yes, sir,' they replied in a chorus.
'Good.' The man turned towards the other Professors. 'Minerva, I presume you'll escort these…' he dedicated a disgusted look to Longbottom's group. '...to their respective common rooms?'
McGonagall smoothed out her robes, seemingly caught off guard for a moment. 'I… Yes, I will.' She blinked, gesturing for the trio of idiots to tag along. 'Good night, Severus. Albus,' she nodded.
Dumbledore smiled as Snape remained silent. 'Good night, Minerva.' As the headmaster vanished out the door, he shot Harry one last twinkle.
What a week…
Author's Note:
Yo, what's good?
A bit of a shorter one this time, but I saw no need to stretch it out unnecessarily. As you can see, pace is continuing to pick up and Harry is starting to run into some trouble.
Bloody occlumency, am I right?
Jokes aside however, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. It was a less eventful one, but one that was needed to bridge a few things nonetheless. Hopefully I managed to make the christmas scene interesting and Dumbledore's character appear in a refreshing way. If you can't tell already, I like that guy.
Anyway: There's not too much time left till we reach the end of first year, so put on your seatbelts and tag along for the ride.
No idea when the next chapter will come out, but - as always - I'll try not to keep you waiting for too long.
Thanks for all the reviews, favourites, kudos, and follows you guys are leaving on the story. I especially love to read your comments and get an insight into your thoughts every time I post a chapter.
If you wish to ask me a question, feel free to do so either on AO3, or on my small Discord, which you can find by entering the following link into your browser:
https :/ discord . gg/ zwpshsfKJn
(FFN, just remove the spaces)
Since that's all that comes to mind right now, I'll leave you to it and see you in the next one.
Cheers!