Harry was the first of the first-year Gryffindor boys to wake up the next morning, and after some moments spent admiring the sun slowly rise over the Scottish Highlands, he put on his school robes over his regular clothes – though not with some internal debate. For better or for worse, Pansy's words to him about his clothes the previous day on the train had stuck in his head, and Harry considered whether or not it was a good idea for him to be wearing his 'normal' clothes under his robes after all.

Practical considerations won out in the end, however, for if not his normal clothes, then what would he wear under his robes? He was not going to walk around the school wearing nothing but undergarments beneath a robe that felt like it could fall off or 'malfunction' at any moment, to his certain embarrassment.

When he reached the Great Hall – as Neville and Ron had called the large space where they had taken their meals the night before – Harry found that thanks to the early hour, he was one of the only students there. The only others present in the Great Hall were two students at the Slytherin table, one at the Hufflepuff table, and one at the Ravenclaw table, whom Harry recognised as the Head Girl who had reminded him to change into his school robes on the train the day before.

Harry ate his breakfast in relative peace, admiring by day the spectacle that was the hall. The ceiling was no longer a reflection of the night sky, but rather showed perfectly the weather outside – partly cloudy. The head table was still empty – the teachers had not yet shown up, it seemed – and to the right side of that stood four hourglasses which had not been there the previous day, the bottoms of each were filled with equal amounts of green, yellow, blue, and red gemstones.

Hermione Granger appeared a few minutes after eight and said a 'good morning' to Harry before taking a seat at the table several metres away. Ron entered the hall a short while after, but thankfully did not attempt to talk to him, instead taking a seat at the other end of the table with Dean and Seamus. Neville was one of the last to arrive, taking a seat next to Hermione.

Almost at the exact same moment, a section of wall above the head table opened with a low rumble, and a parliament of owls flew into the hall, most of them carrying what looked to be letters and rolled-up newspapers in their claws and beaks, though a few others – most notably the eagle owl heading towards the Slytherin table with a great package in its claws – carried other deliveries. One with a newspaper tied to its claw landed on the table right in front of Neville, who swiftly untied the paper and dropped one bronze coin – a Knut – into the pouch on the bird's other claw.

'The Creators,' Neville suddenly gasped loudly, eyes fixated on the headline. Hermione leaned in towards the paper that he was reading, and after a few seconds of reading, her eyebrows furrowed in questioning.

Harry, out of a sense of a sudden, intense curiosity, bent towards Neville and tried to peek at the newspaper in Neville's hand. Neville, seeing his movement, held out the paper in his direction, and Harry slid over on the bench and leaned in to read.

'Gringotts Break-In: Suspect in Custody,' the headline read.

'Gringotts break-in?' Harry asked, confused. 'You mean…that bank in Diagon Alley?'

'The only bank on the British Isles,' Neville corrected. 'Have you not heard about this? It's been in the news for weeks.'

'I…I haven't been getting magical newspapers…where I was living,' Harry muttered.

'There was a break-in at Gringotts,' Neville explained. 'In one of the high-security vaults on the lowest levels, too. Someone managed to get through all the defences and enter the vault. And if that wasn't weird enough, Gringotts said the next day that nothing was taken. Actually, according to them, the contents of the vault had been emptied earlier that day.'

'When did this happen?' Hermione asked.

'Sometime in August, I think,' Neville replied, scanning the paper. 'August fourth. It was a Sunday. According to the spokesgoblin, "Wizard security was weakened by an unusual number of guards taking a day off that weekend, and may have contributed to the break-in."'

Harry drew in breath sharply. 'August fourth? That was the day Dumbledore took me to Diagon Alley!'

'So was it for me,' Hermione said, staring at the paper. 'Eferia…er…Professor Cauverina…took me to Diagon Alley that day.'

'I was there, too,' Neville added with a nod. 'Gran says that weekend is usually popular for shopping. It's the first weekend after all the Hogwarts booklists for the next term are sent out. Whoever it was must've thought that it would let them easily blend in.'

'Who was it?' Harry asked. 'Who broke in?'

Neville thrust out the paper in front of him, positioning it so that all three of them could read at the same time. 'The Ministry didn't know. Well, not until today, apparently.'

The Chief of the Department of Security, Ministry of Magic, Ms Amelia Bones, announced last night that the two suspects for the Gringotts Break-In of 4 August have been identified, and one of them has been taken into custody. This concludes an almost month-long hunt, involving the Public Safety Patrol, the Auror Office, the Magical Army, as well as the goblins of Gringotts.

The identified suspects are as the following:

Ilse Eisele, 21, half-blood, citizen of the Kingdom of Prussia. Had been working in Britain as a potioneer. Escaped to her native Prussia on 17 August. Ernst von Aachen, Kanzler of the Prussian Reichszaubereiministerium, has stated that the Prussian authorities have interrogated Ms Eisele and believe her to be innocent of any wrongdoing. Furthermore, von Aachen stated that Prussia intends to turn down any possibility of extradition, a position which the Department of Security protests. Felix I, the king of the Austria-Hungary, has offered to mediate a settlement.

Anna Vesnova, 19, muggle-born, citizen of the Russian Empire. Like her accomplice Ms Eisele, had been working in Britain as a potioneer. Likely as a result of the ongoing civil war and general unrest in the Empire, neither the Ministry nor the Prophet has received any statement from neither Imperator Georgiy I nor any relevant authorities from either warring faction. Ms Vesnova is currently in Ministry custody.

The pair are facing charges of violating the Wizard-Goblin Peace of 1772 by conspiring in an act of aggression against the Goblin Nation of the British Isles, a crime punishable by a life sentence in Azkaban or the Dementor's Kiss. Charges are due to be pressed in the Ejwent Asztyrajom on 20 September, and the trial is due to begin shortly thereafter. If no settlement for the extradition of Ms Eisele is reached, the Ejwent Asztyrajom will try her in absentia.

Hermione looked up at Neville, a confused expression on her face. 'What's the Ej-Ejwent Asz-az – '

'It's pronounced "Eyvent Ashtirayom,"' Neville said, noticing her struggle to pronounce the oddly-spelled term. 'Gran can definitely say it better than I. It means the "Council of the Stars". It's the main court in Britain, the place where big cases like these would be handled.'

'And what's the Dementor's Kiss?' Hermione asked.

Neville's countenance took on a grim expression. 'It's the highest punishment allowed in Britain. A Dementor…it's…well, I don't even know exactly what it is. But it's supposed to be some horrible, foul creature. Basically, if you're sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss, a Dementor sucks your soul out from your mouth.'

'If what Gran says is true, it's every bit as nasty as it sounds,' Neville added, seeing the shocked look on Hermione's face.

'And there's a Ministry of Magic?' Hermione pressed.

Neville nodded. 'There is. There's a Minister, too. There're three councils including the Ejwent Asztyrajom, I think. There's the Ejwent Dexmot – that's pronounced "Dehmot" with a harder h – and that's supposed to what makes the laws, if I remember correctly. And there's an Ejwent Zehwolt, but I'm not certain what that does…sorry… Gran's on that council, and she told me that she would bring me this summer so I could learn…'

'I…it wasn't in any of the books I read…' Hermione murmured, a look of concentration on her face. 'That's…that's really interesting though. I mean…the Dementor's Kiss…that sounds terrible, but…the rest…'

Neville nodded. 'It is. Gran would be able to – '

Just then, Neville was interrupted by Dumbledore, who had stood up from the head table and clapped his hands once. The entire Great Hall fell silent in an instant, and every pair of eyes turned to train themselves on the Headmaster.

'In a moment, your Heads of House will be distributing your class timetables,' Dumbledore announced. 'You may head directly to your first class at nine. First-Years, for the first two weeks of your time here, you will be enrolled in only two classes – Finding Magic and Elementary Studies – which you will find on your timetables. Please ask your Heads of House if you have any questions.'

'That is all! Best of luck on your first day of classes and I wish you all a happy and successful year.'

Four teachers rose from the head table and swooped down towards each of the House Tables. A long-nosed, sallow man with greasy hair towards the Slytherin table; the woman who had passed Dumbledore the chalice at the feast the previous night towards the Hufflepuff; a tiny man, just slightly taller than one of the goblins at Gringotts, towards Ravenclaw, while Professor McGonagall made her way towards the Gryffindor table.

McGonagall proceeded down the length of the Gryffindor table, stopping in front of each student to draw her wand and tap the deck of timetables in her hand before handing the top card to the student. She had short conversations with several of the students, but otherwise, most simply took their timetables and made their way to their first classes of the day.

As Harry was seated near the other end of the long table, it took a while before Professor McGonagall finally reached where he was sitting. When she did, she tapped her wand to her now greatly-reduced deck of cards and handed one each to Harry, Hermione, and Neville.

Harry looked down at the piece of parchment that he had been given. Every day was filled with the same two classes – one named 'Finding Magic' in the mornings, from nine to eleven-fifty, and one named 'Elementary Studies' in the afternoons, from one to two-twenty.

'Only two classes?' Harry heard Hermione ask, a tinge of shock in her voice.

'You heard what Headmaster Dumbledore said earlier,' McGonagall replied. 'First-Year students are enrolled in only two classes for their first two weeks at Hogwarts.'

'Believe me, Miss Granger, there is good reason for this arrangement,' McGonagall added. 'Your timetables will change automatically to reflect your regular first-year classes after the first two weeks.'

'Do you have any more questions?'

Harry looked up at Professor McGonagall, who was wearing a no-nonsense expression on her face, and shook his head.

'Then you may head to your first class,' McGonagall said. 'Please do not be late to your first lesson with Professor Cauveria. Directions to your classrooms are on the back of the card.'

Harry stood up, grabbed his bookbag from the bench next to him, and started off towards the door of the Great Hall. He flipped his timetable around, and on the back, in the same sort of elegant handwriting as had been on his Hogwarts letter, was printed a small map of Hogwarts and a set of directions.

The directions led him up two flights of the moving staircases, through the length of the right corridor leading from the second flight, and then a right turn and down another corridor to a classroom. Outside of the room, a group of students were already waiting, all wearing robes with red or green accents – Gryffindor and Slytherin. Among them, Harry recognised Ron, and to his dismay, Pansy Parkinson and her gang, who were talking with a silver-haired boy whose name Harry could not quite remember from the sorting.

Harry waited in the corridor outside the classroom for some minutes as more students arrived, among them Neville and Hermione. Finally, at just after nine, the door to the classroom swung open.

'Enter!' a woman's voice called from inside. 'Take a seat at the desk with your name, please.'

The students filed in and began searching the room for their desk. Harry found his near the front of the room in the second row. In front of him sat Dean, and to his right sat Ron. To his left was a large Slytherin boy that he did not know the name of, while behind him sat Raul, who was thankfully distracting Ron again with chatter about some fifteen-year-old star 'seeker' on the Bulgarian 'Kwidditch' team called Krum. He looked around the room. Pansy Parkinson was thankfully quite far away from him, in the back rows of the rightmost column, but Neville and Hermione were far away, too, both having found their seats far to Harry's left and rear.

Another door opened at the top of a flight of stairs in the front of the classroom. A youthful- and energetic-looking woman descended, her brown hair tied back in a bun, secured by what looked like her wand. The classroom fell silent at once, and even Ron and Raul stopped their conversation and sat forward.

'Good morning, class,' she said, more quietly somehow than Harry had expected as she took her place at the front of the room. 'I'm Professor Eferia Cauverina, though you can call me just Miss Cauverina if it's easier for you. I will be your Finding Magic teacher for your first and second years.'

'You might be wondering what this class is about,' Professor Cauverina continued. 'When you first received your Hogwarts letter, you might have expected that you would be turning chairs into dogs – transfiguration – or perhaps making objects fly – charms. You will eventually be doing that, of course, but for now, you don't have the necessary tools to be performing such magic. Or rather, you have the tools, but you have not picked them up yet. And that is what this class is for – to teach you to pick up the tools so that you can then learn to use them. Any questions?'

Shaking heads around the room answered her.

'Great. A little about myself, then, and why you might want to trust me. My parents were muggles – non-magical – ' right then, Harry thought he heard some snickering coming from the general direction of Pansy Parkinson, which Professor Cauverina ignored. 'I was educated at the Snowdonia School,' she went on without pausing, 'a school which, despite having studied there for seven years, whose Welsh name I can still hardly pronounce properly.'

There were a few chuckles from around the classroom as Professor Cauverina continued. 'After I graduated, I spent some years travelling and taking a course on applied mathematics at Princeton University – that's a school in the muggle world – before completing a Magister in arithmancy at the Baghdad House of Knowledge.'

'But why am I telling you all this? Because I wanted to show you that I was where you are now once. I came from not knowing what magic was, to completing a Magister with one of the most prestigious schools in the world. And I can help you do the same.'

'Are there any questions?' Professor Cauverina asked, waiting for several seconds before deciding that no one had any.

'If you have no questions, then I have one for you. What is magic, exactly?'

There was a whoosh of someone's hand shooting into the air. 'Miss Granger,' Professor Cauverina called.

'"Magic" is a hypernym that describes a variety of phenomena that, generally, involve a conversion of transcendental energy through some type of focus in order to generate effects on the caster, on a target, or on the environment,' Hermione rattled off, seemingly not even stopping to take a breath.

Professor Cauverina let out a small chuckle. 'And judging by that response, I'd say that it's safe to assume that you've read Foundations of Magical Theory: A Conceptual Approach?' she asked, grinning.

Harry turned his head slightly, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione nodding vigorously, her face pink.

'Admirable,' Professor Cauverina said. 'The book is an interesting read for sure, though maybe a little past the level and scope of this class. I would say that it is probably more appropriate towards our second-year class, and so I recommend that you leave it aside for right now. There is no need to read it past perhaps the first chapter. Not for this year at least.'

'And thank you, Miss Granger,' she added. 'Fifteen points to Gryffindor House for your proactiveness. Now, Miss Granger's answer was correct in the strict sense, but it wasn't quite what I was looking for. Can someone please describe to me what magic is more…practically?'

After several seconds, Ron put his hand up into the air.

'Mister Weasley, yes?'

Ron nodded. 'Magic is what Mum uses to make meals and do things around the house…and what Fred and George – my brothers – use to prank me…and…uh…it keeps broomsticks in the air and…um…it's what makes wizards wizards.'

Professor Cauverina smiled kindly, though Harry could see it was one of those smiles that teachers gave to encourage students when they answered a question incorrectly. 'Good attempt, but a little off. You named mostly applications of magic – what you would learn to do in, for example, most of the rest of your classes here. Making dinner and cleaning up the house – that's almost all charms. Pranking, well, that could be many things, but I'll bet that it consists mostly of charms, transfiguration, and potions. Broomsticks are a delicate combination of charms, static enchantments, and a good knowledge of fluid dynamics and physics. And as for magic being what defines a magical being…here, you're actually not too far from the right answer, but magic itself is not what makes wizards wizards. Anyone else?'

There was another short stretch of silence. 'Mister Malfoy?'

'It's what wizards are and muggles are not,' the silvery-haired boy that Pansy Parkinson and her gang had been talking to in the corridor spoke up, his voice resembling a sort of slow drawl with an undertone of arrogance and aristocracy.

'I would argue that that is incorrect, Mister Malfoy,' Professor Cauverina replied, though without a conciliatory smile this time. 'Wizards are not magic, and muggles are not not magic. Anyone else?'

Raul's hand went up. 'Mister Noriega.'

'Magic is something that wizards and other magical creatures can control,' Raul answered.

'Very close to a good answer,' Professor Cauverina said, smiling again. 'Ten points to Gryffindor House. Can anyone elaborate on that a little bit? Yes, Miss Greengrass?'

'Magic is something that wizards have the ability perform by interacting with magical forces,' Daphne Greengrass answered.

Professor Cauverina nodded approvingly. 'Almost a correct answer – fifteen points to Slytherin House. The keyword here that you're missing, though, is easily. Muggles and non-magical species, believe it or not, can, theoretically, interact with magical forces, although practically, for all intents and purposes, they will be unable to. Can anyone hazard a guess at why?'

There was a rustling from behind Harry which signalled Hermione's hand shooting into the air. 'Yes, Miss Granger?'

'Magical people and species are able to efficiently channel transcendental energy in sufficient magnitudes to produce magical effects,' Hermione answered. 'While non-magical people and species are unable to generate enough transcendental energy with reasonable effort to produce any noticeable effects.'

'Ten points to Gryffindor for a correct answer, Miss Granger,' Professor Cauverina said. 'Once again, a bit too technical for our purposes, but off of that, we can build a useful heuristic definition of what makes magical beings magical, and non-magical beings non-magical. A magical being, as Miss Granger pointed out, can meaningfully control and use magic, while non-magical beings, despite being no different from magical beings in any other way, are unable to, except in very rare freak occurrences, which muggles often write off as what they call "supernatural conspiracy theories".'

'Which then, of course, begs the question – what exactly is it that wizards can control and use?' Professor Cauverina continued. 'As Miss Granger had pointed out at the beginning of class, "magic" Is actually quite a vague term.'

'To answer this question, we do have to dig a little deeper. As you might have guessed from Miss Granger's responses earlier, "transcendental energy" will be a very important concept to understand. Now, I won't ask you to take notes many times in this class, but right now, I would definitely suggest that you write something down.'

With that, Professor Cauverina pulled her wand from her hair, which somehow maintained its bun nearly perfectly even without it. She pointed it at the wall in the front of the classroom, and with a flick, the wall opened. A chalkboard slid out and took its place right in front of her desk. Harry could hear some gasps of awe echo around the room, and he himself, too, let out a breath at the impressive display of magic.

Professor Cauverina flicked her wand again, and a piece of chalk picked itself up into the air. In a large, neat font, it wrote the words 'Transcendental Energy' at the top of the board. Harry scrambled to reach into his bag for a roll of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink – he would still have to get used to this manner of writing. It was quite different than writing with a biro, and he was not exactly in love with it for that.

'What exactly is transcendental energy, now?' Professor Cauverina began. 'That is actually a very difficult question to answer. Those of you who come from muggle backgrounds might have heard the term "energy" used in relation with physics, but that is not what transcendental energy is, nor should you associate it with that understanding of energy in any way. To attempt to prove conservation of mass-energy with magic involved, for example, would yield nonsensical results with ludicrously small speeds of light.'

'Let's simplify things for our own purposes and give transcendental energy the definition that it is a sort of "energy" – which I put in quotes – that magical beings – and certain classes of magical objects, too, in fact – could generate efficiently, and which, when properly channelled and focused, is able to produce magical effects like what you just saw with this chalkboard.'

'Now, there are many ways that transcendental energy could be channelled and controlled,' Professor Cauverina lectured. 'The most common is what's known as cast magic, which is the variety that you will be practising in most of your classes here. Cast magic relies on the use of some kind of focus to guide and concentrate the transcendental energy you generate. Understanding the relationship between cast magic and transcendental energy is, in fact, what is primarily studied in the field of arithmancy, which you can take a class on starting your third year. There's no reason for us to get into it in anywhere near as much detail here, though.'

'There are two other major ways that transcendental energy is channelled. First is static enchantments, which is a scheme where transcendental energy is drawn from the structure of specific types of crystals and then guided and focused with the help of a variety of helper spells and runic inscriptions. This is what the study of runes and enchanting is primarily concerned with, and if you are so interested, you could enrol in Runes and Enchanting starting in your third year, but we will not be covering this field of magic here besides this one mention.'

'The final way that transcendental energy is channelled is a lot more nebulous and hard to pin down exactly. This is best described as a sort of self-channelling which gives an object magical properties of its own, and is what gives rise to one subtype of magical objects. This is an ongoing subject of study in the fields of theoretical magics, and it would be rather fruitless to discuss its technicalities to most laypersons, including adults.'

Professor Cauverina lowered her wand and turned to face the class, the piece of chalk that she had been writing with dropping softly back onto the table.

'Having said all of that, who can tell me what the name of this class is?'

'"Finding Magic", ma'am,' answered Dean.

'Yes, "Finding Magic". But now that you've learned a little more about what exactly "magic" is, perhaps a more accurate name would be "Finding Control Over Your Transcendental Energy", though that would certainly be far less nice to say. In these two weeks, you will learn to slowly grasp at and control your magical energy, and by the time your regular classes begin, you will be fully ready to perform the magic that your professors will ask of you.'

'Now, let's get started, for real. I'd like you to put all of your quills, parchment, and ink away. Clear your desks, place your wand in your bag, and slide your bag under your chair.'

'Is this the part where we have to meditate for hours on end?' Harry heard Neville ask with a groan as he put his things away back into his bag.

'No, not at all,' Professor Cauverina answered cheerfully. 'That's the old thinking of how one gets acquainted with magic, but there's actually no need. The pure meditation method is more gradual and possibly more comfortable, but it doesn't teach you how to use magic as well as the method we're going to be using. Plus, it takes far, far, longer than necessary.'

As the rest of the class got settled, Professor Cauverina sent the chalkboard back into its hidden compartment in the rear wall with a wave of her wand. Another wave of her wand, and her bureau floated into the air and placed itself in the corner, out of the way.

'What you're going to try to do now is to reach for magic – or rather, let your transcendental energy well up and create a sort of undirected magic,' Professor Cauverina said, pacing down the aisle between the first and second columns of desks. 'You will need to summon a strong emotion and let it fill you. There are several ways you could do this. Think of a time when you felt something so strongly that you could still vividly recall the scene, and try to remember it in as much detail as you can from start to finish. If you could remember a time when you had an accidental magic incident, you could try to use that memory. Otherwise, try to place yourself in an imagined situation where you would feel some strong emotion. It could be anything – happiness, fear, humour – as long as it's strong. Remember, you've all interacted with magic before, so know that you can do it again. You simply have to place yourself in the right state of mind to have another, this time conscious, breakthrough.'

Harry combed his mind for memories that matched what Professor Cauverina had instructed, and the first thing that came to his mind was the time that Malcolm and Dudley had chased him up a tree, after which he had somehow teleported into his bedroom. According to Dumbledore, accidental magic had saved him, but recalling the memory, Harry could almost feel his heart pounding in his chest again.

'Once you've found a memory or imagined a scenario,' Professor Cauverina said. 'Try to picture it vividly. Let it fill you, even if it's a bad feeling. The stronger your feelings are, the sooner this will be over. Let it fill you from head to toe. Then, switch to concentrating on this feeling and let it expand and grow. Hopefully, and with a bit of luck, you'll get it. When you do, you'll know.'

Harry tried to do as she instructed, replaying the memory in his mind and trying to remember as many details about it as he could. He could still remember that day as if it were yesterday, down to the shape of the clouds in the sky. He had been walking home from school, and at the corner of Magnolia Crescent, just one street away from Privet Drive, Dudley had appeared out of nowhere and started to give chase. Harry tried to sprint home – he had the speed advantage, and Dudley would not dare try anything over-the-top in front of his parents – but then, just short of safety, Malcom had appeared from the other end of Privet Drive, cutting him off from the other direction.

He had almost gotten to the door. Fifteen metres…ten… But Malcolm had a head start to him, and reached the front door of the house before Harry. He moved swiftly to block the door with his body, cutting off Harry's only possible escape as Dudley closed in from behind as fast as his legs could carry him. Harry, his brain fuelled with panic, decided at that moment that his only escape was to start climbing up the tree planted in front of Number Six. But a split second later, he realised that it had been the wrong decision. He could hear Malcolm's and Dudley's derisive laughter as Malcolm closed in to the bottom of the tree, an expression on his face like a wolf may have when approaching its cornered prey…

Then, Harry heard a sudden loud crash that he did not remember hearing that day, and which rudely pulled him out of his imagined world. It took him a second to orient himself to the real world again, having not realised just how deep he had gone into his memory. He jerked his head towards the source of the noise, and saw Daphne Greengrass wearing an expression of slight surprise on her face, her desk flipped onto its side.

Professor Cauverina rushed over to her, righting her desk with a flick of her wand. 'Is everything okay, Miss Greengrass?' she asked.

Daphne nodded reflexively. 'I think I just managed it.'

'It looks like you did, too,' Professor Cauverina said with a smile. 'What did you feel just before it happened?'

'It felt first like my hair was standing on end,' Daphne replied almost immediately. 'And then as if a sudden wind blew across my face. And then the table flipped over.'

'Congratulations, Miss Greengrass,' Professor Cauverina said. 'It sounds like you've just managed to do magic consciously for the first time.'

Though it was not him who had achieved it, Harry still could not help but be a little awed by the display of magic from one of his fellow students. Daphne, however, simply nodded back at Professor Cauverina in a way that seemed almost unemotional and unsurprised.

Professor Cauverina gave the rest of the class some words of encouragement and sent Daphne away to rest before they resumed their individual attempts at the exercise. Harry tried to immerse himself in his memories again, but it was now somehow more difficult than before. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was being interrupted every five to ten minutes by another student managing magic for the first time, or perhaps it was because he was having difficulty summoning as strong of emotions as he had the first time he replayed the memory in his head, but Harry felt that instead of getting closer to magic, he was actually getting further away.

More than an hour and a half had passed from when they had first started, and Harry had still made no progress. By now, Neville, Seamus, Raul, Dean, Pansy Parkinson, and several others had already succeeded, yet stubbornly, it seemed like magic simply refused to come to Harry.

'If you're still having trouble, you could try to work with a different memory or imagined scenario, but if you don't manage to do it today, that's also no problem at all,' Professor Cauverina consoled with forty minutes left in the class. By now, Harry had begun to feel desperate, and by the looks on the faces of Hermione, Tracey Davis, and several others who had not managed magic yet, they had, too. 'This is why you're in this class exclusively for these first two weeks. You'll have plenty of time to work on it, and if you're really having trouble, which I doubt you will, you're always welcome to come to me for help.'

After another ten minutes of fruitlessness, Harry decided to take Professor Cauverina's advice. He tried to remember other times when he had felt a sufficiently strong emotion, but none of them seemed to stick out at him. The other occurrences that Dumbledore had made examples of when explaining accidental magic that day all did not seem strong enough to him, not even as powerful as the memory that he had already used and exhausted.

'Memories of accidental magic are a good place to start, but don't restrict yourself to them,' Professor Cauverina suggested. 'Anytime when you felt something strongly could work. It's the magnitude that's important, not necessarily the effects.'

Upon that suggestion, a memory miraculously seemed to materialise in Harry's mind. He had certainly felt a strong emotion back then, though he did not know what exactly the emotion that he had felt was. He was not sure that it was what was needed, but it was worth an attempt, at the very least.

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated, and in no time and with almost no effort at all, he found himself in the corridor outside the living room in Number Four, Privet Drive…

He had just put away the broom in the cupboard, having finished the last of the chores that he had been assigned as punishment for what he had done – supposedly done – the day before. To tell the truth, Harry still could not understand how he was responsible for Piers' hair turning pink – it had obviously been someone else pulling a prank, but his aunt and uncle had immediately accused him of doing it, and decided that he needed to be punished for it.

'…the first time Lily had shown that…' Aunt Petunia's voice emanated from the lounge as Harry passed.

'You think Harry…same?' he heard Uncle Vernon ask.

Curious at what about him his aunt and uncle could be talking about, Harry stopped and crept up to the doorframe, getting as close to the edge as possible without being seen.

'Of course he is one,' Aunt Petunia replied, and Harry did not miss the acid in her voice. 'Lily and that…boy…both were.'

'Didn't…what was his name? Jack? Josh?'

'James.'

'James. Didn't he say once that it's possible that their children weren't…you know?'

Aunt Petunia sighed. 'He said too that it was rare.'

'Do you think, then…'

'For sure.'

'What do we do about it?'

'Nothing,' Aunt Petunia replied caustically. 'If he doesn't know about it – '

For some reason, at that moment, some force – perhaps it was curiosity at what they were talking about, recklessness at wanting to find out, or anger at the fact that they were keeping something about him from him, or all three – drove Harry to step out from behind the doorway. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's conversation stopped at once when they caught sight of him, Aunt Petunia's face taking on a surprised expression while Uncle Vernon's – one of anger.

'If I didn't know about what?' Harry asked. It was, in some ways, more of a demand.

It took his aunt and uncle several moments to recover from his sudden reappearance, and all three stared at each other in silence. Harry could feel the tension so thick in the air that it could be cut with a knife.

'Why your parents died,' Aunt Petunia hissed, getting up out of her chair, her expression of surprise now also one of anger. 'And if you ask any more questions, how you – and all of us – are going to go the same way.'

'You told me that they died in a car – '

'They died in a car crash!' Uncle Vernon snarled. 'A natural result of what they were! Lily and that Potter should have known – '

'Lily?' Harry gasped, surprised. He had never heard those names before, and in his dreams, he had always made up names for his mother and father – nothing more than blind guesses. To hear it told to him, and so directly, too…

'My mother's name was Lily? And my father…was his name James? You were talking about my mum and dad?'

'Yes, your mother's name was Lily,' Aunt Petunia snapped, but it was noticeable that something had taken a little bit of the sting out of her voice as she pronounced that name. 'Your father was James. James Potter. If they had known what – '

'Who were they?' Harry asked, impulsively asking the question. He wanted to know more, needed to know more. 'What did they look like? What – '

'No more questions!' Uncle Vernon all but shouted. 'Be quiet this moment if you know what's good for you! Up to your room! Now!'

Harry stood still, jaw hanging open. He did not want to give up. Aunt Petunia had just done something that Harry would have thought impossible just a minute ago. What more could she be willing to give up?Harry

'Now!' Aunt Petunia snarled, and that dream was crushed. Harry, knowing that he had lost and wishing to avoid further punishment, turned and dashed up the stairs, entering his room and closing the door behind him. The moment the door clicked shut, he rushed to his desk and pulled out a piece of paper. On it, in the clearest handwriting that his shaking hand could manage, he printed three words.

Lily

James Potter

Harry suddenly felt a sense of what he could only describe as power, one which did not seem to fit at all with the memory. It felt as if he was standing in the centre of a whirlwind. In his fingertips was a sort of tingling, but it was by no means a bad feeling. In fact, it almost felt natural.

'Mister Potter,' suddenly came a foreign voice. 'Is everything all right?'

'Mister Potter,' the same voice repeated.

'Harry.'

Harry realised that the voice was calling him, and he opened his eyes, almost not expecting to find himself back in the classroom. Professor Cauverina was looking down at him, a nervous and concerned expression on her face.

There was a crash, then a shout. Harry's head spun towards the noise. Dean was on the floor right in front of him, rubbing his arm, while his chair laid on its side, a short distance away from him.

Harry's first instinct was to get up to see if Dean was okay, but hands that Harry recognised as belonging to Professor Cauverina pushed him firmly back into his chair.

'Are you okay?' Professor Cauverina asked Dean.

'All good,' Dean replied from the floor. 'Just…scary.'

'W-What happened?' Harry breathed, feeling cold sweat on his back.

'You just performed your first conscious act of magic,' Professor Cauverina replied. 'You levitated Mister Thomas's chair a good half-metre into the air.'

'I-I did?'

'If not you, then who else?' Professor Cauverina said, an amused smile on her face. 'The moment you stopped concentrating, Mister Thomas's chair fell back to Earth. I think that's enough proof that that was you?'

'Sorry, Dean,' Harry murmured.

'Don't worry about it,' Dean responded, getting up.

'Did I really perform magic?' Harry asked, looking at Professor Cauverina.

'It certainly looks like you did. What did you feel?'

'I just felt…it was sort of like…wind was blowing around me,' Harry answered slowly. 'And a sort of tingling. In my right arm, especially. And then I heard you call my name.'

'And then Dean's chair falling to the floor,' he added with a sheepish look at Dean. 'Sorry again.'

'Well, it definitely looks to me like you've just performed magic for the first time,' Professor Cauverina said with a wide smile. 'Congratulations, Harry, good work.'

'Thanks,' Harry said, feeling himself buoyed and at the same time, that he had controlled a sort of liberating power, like some previously suppressed part of him had just been freed, and despite having just performed magic, he felt more energised and elevated than ever.

Professor Cauverina backed away from Harry's desk and looked at her watch. 'Class is supposed to end in two minutes,' she announced. 'I'll let you go a little early, since I'm sure most of you are a little worn out already. I wouldn't expect you to be able to get back into the correct state to make a breakthrough in two minutes. Enjoy the rest of your day, and I'll see you tomorrow.'

There was a stray cheer from a corner of the room as the class gathered their things. As Harry walked towards the door of the classroom, he spied Hermione, who was wearing a distressed expression on her face, while Neville was saying something to her that Harry could not hear. Harry realised that she had not been one of the students who had managed to perform magic. He wondered if he should say something to her, perhaps some kind of consolation, but decided that it might seem disingenuous, as if he were 'rubbing it in', and so decided against.

Harry exited the classroom and took a breath of the fresh air coming through the windows from the grounds. Even that felt different now, as if he could now detect something new in it that he had missed even just the previous night.