Chapter 36 – Winds of Change
After the excitement of Valentine's Day and the resumption of Hogsmeade weekends, Harry ended up without much else to look forward to. Despite receiving more Valentine's messages than he needed, no one had approached him for any kind of dates. And he hadn't approached anyone else either – quite apart from the fact that he didn't really fancy any of the girls he knew, Harry didn't think that right then was quite the right time to embark on a new relationship.
With everything Harry had to do, the days passed by quickly, filled with lessons, prefect duties, and the occasional bit of nocturnal protest, with Flight Club and duelling shoved in wherever he could make the time.
So the weeks passed by, and February became March.
And on top of everything else that Harry had to do, he had to prepare for the second of the Alchemy practicals. The Draught of Aural Acuity was trickier to create than the Salve of Clear Sight, and some of the better ingredients for it were rather more esoteric than Harry had ever used before.
To that end, Harry had sought permission from Professor Snape for another nighttime jaunt out on the grounds. He didn't think Snape would deny it to him, not when he had an actual reason. And even their occlumency lessons had been a little less confrontational than they were to begin with. Snape seemed to be warming to Harry, even if it was only slightly.
Harry didn't get the feeling that Snape hated him anymore, anyway, which was more than enough progress in Harry's book. So, on the night of the Vernal Equinox, Harry made his way out onto the grounds with his Firebolt and a specialised vessel. Unlike last time with the lunar water, Harry had set out to collect the first winds of spring.
Not the literal first winds of spring, since Harry didn't think it was actually possible to literally collect the first winds of spring. But in a metaphorical, magico-symbolic sense, it was what Harry had to do. And he needed to do it just before midnight on the night of the vernal equinox – after midnight on the night of the equinox itself.
When he reached the Entrance Hall he spotted two other students – Brocklehurst and Boot. Boot carried a broom of his own, although Brocklehurst was without.
"I said Potter would be out tonight, didn't I," Harry heard Boot say.
"You did, to be fair," Brocklehurst said. "Although it's not like that was an especially hard guess—of course Potter would be out tonight. The first winds of spring is a powerful component."
"I wasn't sure I'd see anyone else tonight," Harry said once he'd approached.
"Well, after you sprung your lunar water on us last time we had a bit of a think," Boot said. "Me and Mandy. And we decided that for the Draught we'd collect our own specialist ingredients if we could."
"And the first winds of spring, well," finished Brocklehurst, "it doesn't get much better than that for this, does it?"
Harry shook his head. With some luck, and with the right spread of ingredients, the first winds of spring should even allow him to give himself perfect pitch using the Draught. Not that that was especially useful given Harry's generally unmusical talents, but it would be nice. A good show of skill, at least, even if he never used it.
"Wonder if Hermione's going to be out tonight," Harry said. She certainly would have wanted the winds, but Harry didn't think she was any good on a broom at all.
"Have you seen her on a broom?" scoffed Boot. "It's about the only thing Granger isn't good at."
"What's about the only thing I'm not good at?" Hermione said as she entered the Entrance Hall and reached her fellow alchemists.
"Oh, er…" said Boot. "I didn't—it's…"
"Terry was just saying that you aren't very good on a broom," said Brocklehurst, "so maybe you wouldn't be out tonight. But it seems like he was wrong."
Hermione's face went a bit red at that, but she shrugged.
"It's not a secret that I'm no good on a broom," she said, "but for something as important as this is, I'll get up in the air. I've got to get some of the first winds of spring. Now, are we going to go do it, or will we miss the opportunity because we've spent all night gossiping in the Entrance Hall?"
Harry thought she had a point, even if it was only made in earnest because she didn't like being the topic of conversation.
"Yeah, let's get outside," Harry said. "No point missing the chance." He didn't stick around waiting for the others to agree. Instead he made his way out onto the grounds through the wicket gate, and headed out to find a suitable location to bottle his wind. He didn't want to be too close to the castle, nor did he want to be above or within the Forbidden Forest.
The Forest would give the wind too dark an air, while the castle wouldn't be wild enough. Too manufactured. So Harry wanted somewhere that was just right. Wild, but not untamed.
With his free hand Harry fished inside his robes to bring out the wind-net, a great big sock-like net at the end of a long silver pole he could use to capture the wind. He had a special glass vessel for storing it later, but that could wait until he'd safely netted it. He'd been sceptical of the net's utility at first, but Professor Dee had assured him that it would work, and the magical theory underpinning its function did make perfect sense.
Even if to look at Harry still doubted it.
Harry mounted his Firebolt and kicked off from the ground, rising quickly into the skies. He didn't expect to see the others again, at least not until after they'd all finished their collections.
The Firebolt was simply too fast a broom in comparison to what they'd all be riding, even Boot whose broom was a Nimbus, and Harry doubted they were half as skilled as he was at using them anyway. So he didn't need to worry at all about getting sidetracked or held up in his collection, and he headed for the hills just outside of the grounds themselves.
Which was technically not allowed, but Harry was on his broom and there was nobody watching him anyway.
As Harry sped away from the castle and into the wilds around Hogwarts the wind picked up and there was a chill in the air. Although it was technically spring, the cold of winter hadn't quite relinquished its grip on the skies around Hogwarts, and the flight was perhaps a little more bracing than Harry had expected.
Although it was still nothing he couldn't handle.
Harry aimed for a spot between Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and the various outlying hamlets that were scattered about the highlands. He rose steadily higher into the sky until he could feel the winds pick up. He wanted the strongest winds for his Draught and wanted to collect them at precisely the right time.
Which was possible even if it was a bit tricky. With his wind-net held in his free hand, Harry steered his Firebolt into the heaviest winds. The night itself wasn't especially windy, nor was it calm, but that shouldn't have mattered for the purpose of collecting the first winds of spring. Harry had checked – multiple times even – that it was the magico-symbolic quality of the wind that was most important when it came to collecting the winds, and not the literal wind itself.
Still, Harry did worry a little about how he was supposed to know when it was the right moment. Nothing he'd read was specific.
What little light there was came from the stars and the Moon. Glancing around, Harry could see no signs of artificial lights, but that wasn't so strange out on the Highlands, especially so far from Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, and the other signs of human habitation. And Harry was very glad for that. He could see well enough in the dark thanks to his Salve, and the thick blanket of darkness all around him gave a hint of primeval power to the magic.
Harry drifted along letting the wind rush over and around him. He embraced the quiet of the night, letting it envelop him. Out there on his broom Harry could almost forget the castle and its woes, enjoying as he was a peace that never would have happened at the castle.
There was the odd noise, of course - the flap-flapping of bird or batwings; the buzzing of insects; and far in the distance the sound of rushing water. But rather than shatter Harry's peace they added to it, giving the night an ambience Harry wanted to savour.
Harry held out his wind-net and flew in lazy circles around the skies while he got used to the heft of the net. It wasn't heavy, although the silver pole did make it heavier than if it had been made of wood, but it was a bit unwieldy and Harry wasn't used to carrying things like that whilst on a broom.
At least the wind wouldn't add any extra weight.
Once he was satisfied he could fly, wave around the net, and cast the ritual words all at once, Harry took a quick look at his watch to check the time and then got ready to capture the wind. With about half a minute to go, Harry shifted the wind-net in his arms and gripped the shaft of his broom with his knees.
He had to hit the wind at just the right angle, but that was fine, since he'd achieved far more difficult things during the Aerobaticum. Harry counted down the seconds to midnight and then, when it was the right time, accelerated hard.
"Ventus ad me veni," Harry said, holding the silver wind-net and dragging it through the wind. "In manu mea te teneo!"
The wind-net began to glow. It was subtle at first, so subtle that Harry would have missed it without his alchemically enhanced eyesight. But glow it did, a soft silver light not unlike that produced by the lunar water.
"Veris aura, flores et vitam!" Harry continued, next invoking the power of spring itself. "In hoc loco suscita!"
The air turned crisp, and the winds took on the colour of spring. But there was another sign too, one which Harry felt more than saw. The wind picked up, grew more powerful… and came tinged with the scent of spring itself.
All at once the scents hit Harry in a whirl: the smell of damp grass after a downpour; the tang of new shoots on a branch; and the sweet, subtle scent of spring flowers.
The awakened winds of spring swirled around Harry in a mess of colour, light, and scent as Harry's ritual words coaxed the magic of spring out from the earth and into the winds. And with it, Harry's heart soared as high as his broom.
Much more involved than the usual bits of magic Harry did, the ritual to capture the first winds of spring was much less convenient than wanded spell-based magic. It was more primitive and much more laborious… but Harry found he didn't mind. The magic felt much more personal. There was a kind of poetry in the old magic, in the esoteric arts, that some of his other studies completely lacked.
More than anything else, Harry was starting to understand what people meant when they talked about the importance of the esoteric disciplines. Why Mairi had been so insistent that they were worthwhile, why Tracey's Nan was so hung up on the deeper aspects of magic.
Step one, Harry thought to himself. The smell of spring meant the ritual was working. He circled back around and got the wind-net ready once more.
"Ventus ad me veni!" Harry said again, dragging the wind-net through the wind. "In manu mea te teneo!" The glow grew stronger. "Veris aura, flores et vitam—in hoc loco suscita!"
Step two. Nearly there…
Harry repeated the process again and again until the sock-like net at the end of the pole grew full and fat with the first winds of spring. When the sock glowed about as bright as the full moon, and with a vortex of spring wind around him, Harry knew he'd reached the climax.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Harry reached for the ritual words in his mind to ensure he didn't mess up at the very last bit.
"Ventus in silentio recede," Harry said loudly, matching his voice to the strength of the wind. "Gratias ago et accipio, ver et aura nobiscum sit." The vortex stilled and the glow faced, although the smell of spring lingered in the calm air.
Harry got the wind vessel out and unstopped it before decanting the first winds of spring from his wind-net into the vessel. Then, once the wind-net was emptied, Harry stoppered the vessel and placed it gently within the expanded pocket of his robes.
He balanced the wind-net better in his free hand and flew back to the castle, wondering idly how the others had fared in their collections. The trickiest part of the whole thing was the flying with dragging the net, really, as the Latin invocation was fairly simple even if it was much longer than the spells they typically used.
Harry landed his broom just before the gardens at the front of the castle and tucked his broom under his arm. Although a bit chilly, the night was nice, and it was a rare thing indeed to get the chance to wander the Hogwarts gardens at nighttime without having to worry about being caught. Harry strolled through the gardens idly, gazing at one plant or another as he walked by. As pleasant as it was wandering through the gardens after midnight, Harry did have an ulterior motive. He expected the others to be back at any time and wanted to catch them before they went into the castle.
But until then, Harry simply enjoyed his midnight walk. He could still smell the scent of spring as it lingered on his clothes, mingling as it did with the gardens' aroma.
By the time Harry got back to the castle gates, Boot and Brocklehurst were dismounting their brooms just past the gardens on the lawn.
"I'd have thought you'd be back and in bed by now," Boot said when he noticed Harry. "On that Firebolt of yours."
"Took a stroll through the gardens," Harry said with a shrug. "Thought I might as well. How'd it go with the winds?"
"We got it done," Brocklehurst said. "Lovely bit of magic, that. Very…"
"Bracing," finished Boot. "This esotericism malarkey's got something to it."
Harry felt much the same way. There was just something alluring about the deeper mysteries, and Harry had barely scratched the surface yet.
"I wonder how Granger got off," Brocklehurst said. "The ritual's easy enough, especially for someone with Granger's eye for detail… but the broomwork was a bit rough and I've been riding since I was a girl."
"I'm sure she did fine," Harry said, although he wasn't entirely. But Hermione did have her Flying cert, so she did at least have adequate broom skills and the flying about catching the first winds of spring wasn't particularly difficult. They'd done worse flying to pass the Flying lessons in first year.
"Well, it couldn't have gone as badly as Malone's Salve," Boot said. "Unless she fell off, I suppose, but they can fix a broken bone…"
Harry turned to scan the skies for signs of Hermione. With his alchemically enhanced vision it was much easier to see even at night.
"You can ask her yourself," Harry said, pointing. Hermione was making her way back to the castle by broom, her course unsteady but not quite the worst flying Harry had ever seen. Within moments she came to a clumsy stop on the lawn near to the others and dismounted her broom.
She looked flustered, but Harry thought that more likely to be from having her ungraceful flight witnessed rather than a failure to perform the ritual correctly.
"How'd it go?" Boot asked. "You're a bit late back."
"I finished the ritual," Hermione said, her tone sharp. "It wasn't complicated."
"Well… good," Boot said. "Shall we get back to the castle? Only, it's a bit chilly and we're up early in the morning."
"No one's keeping you," Hermione said. She started the walk up to the castle, leaving the three others stood there.
Harry followed. He got the feeling that Hermione was still smarting from Boot's earlier comments about her flying abilities, so he didn't want to rub salt in the wound further.
"It's a shame Dragonsfoot and Grimhallow didn't get out tonight," Harry said as they walked back to the castle. "Their Draughts will suffer for it, but it would have been nice for us all to get the first winds of spring."
"Grimhallow's afraid of flying," Brocklehurst said, "and I don't think Thomas has his Flying cert yet. It's a shame, really, because the first winds of spring is the most powerful component they could add to the Draught. I suppose they could just go and collect the winds of spring, but…"
Harry shrugged.
"There's ways around it. The winds of spring is one of them, but they could just… I mean, that book Mr Flamel said about the other week had a few different ways of doing it, didn't it? And I suppose you could go right up to the top of the Old Owlery and do the ritual, you don't technically need the broom," Harry said. Not that Harry would have gone without it, since it was only with a broom – or a carpet, he supposed, or maybe a winged horse or something like that – that could get anyone really high enough for the best effects.
But the Old Owlery would do.
"Well at least the four of us came prepared," Boot said. "Although I am surprised Nott didn't give it a go."
Harry shrugged.
"Theodore doesn't like flying. I'm sure he thought of something, though," Harry said. And for all that Harry had barely spoken with him since the previous school year, Harry felt confident that Theodore wouldn't let an opportunity like that slide. If anyone had gone out to the Old Owlery it would have been Theodore. Not that Harry was going to ask him, of course. That was Theodore's business, and Theodore's business was no longer any of Harry's.
Not long after that the four budding alchemists reached the castle proper and slipped inside the Entrance Hall via the wicket gate.
"See you in lessons," Harry said once they'd crossed the Entrance Hall. The other three would go upwards to wherever the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Common Rooms were, and Harry didn't feel like drawing out any goodbyes. There was simply no point. So he left for the dungeons, keen to get his wind stored safely away and to jump right into bed.
While Harry was attending to his – rather large list of – other business, he kept an eye on what Draco was up to as well. Just in case. Although Dumbledore had cautioned him to leave it alone, and that Draco was apparently 'well attended', Harry didn't feel right simply letting it go. If nothing else Harry needed to understand what Draco was up to.
He didn't have to interfere with it, not if Dumbledore really was convinced it was all sorted… but Harry would feel much better if he knew what Draco was up to.
The vast majority of lessons they no longer had together – Draco had even transferred into a different Airthmancy group near the start of the year – so Harry couldn't watch out for his comings and goings there. Not that there was much time during lessons.
But they did attend the same extracurricular activities – Flight Club and Duelling Club – and occupied the same Common Room. So Harry had a lot of chances to just sit and watch Draco without it looking at all suspicious.
And he could even get some of it done while sitting with his friends. He just needed to stop paying quite as much attention to the conversation at hand, which was easy enough since he often zoned out while practising his occlumency anyway.
"…Mummy thinks I should keep it long," Daphne was saying, "but I really do want to try out a shorter look. Millie said I'd look lovely either way, but I was just wondering…"
Harry tuned her out. He wasn't overly concerned about Daphne's hair. It was, on the vast list of things Harry cared about, somewhere near the bottom.
If it had even made the list at all.
Instead, he watched where Draco sat in another part of the lounge area of the Common Room. Draco had a book with him but wasn't reading it. With his alchemically enhanced eyesight Harry could see that it wasn't anything interesting – it appeared to be nothing more than a transfiguration book. Not the textbook, but one of the books McGonagall had suggested the third years read ahead of the OWL.
Of more interest than Draco's academic reading was his company. As it had been last time Harry had checked him out, Draco's circle of friends had expanded far beyond Vince, Greg, Pansy, and Victoria. Draco's little group was no longer so little, including several students who'd been in Adder group along with a nice selection of new starters.
They were sat far enough away that Harry couldn't quite hear their conversation, not over the general din of the Common Room. But even so it was interesting to see which students Draco was sat with. One of his new friends was someone Harry recognised as a Welsh student, purely because he'd seen her speaking Welsh with Tracey. Another Harry recognised from his core lessons as a former Wandwright's student.
Not wholly unusual, of course. Since the start of the school year many friendship groups had shifted somewhat, some of them growing larger to accommodate the new students and some changing membership quite significantly. Harry's hadn't, but then he supposed he and his friends had other concerns.
But Draco's had grown quite a bit.
"I've been thinking about going for a more fitted look," Tracey was saying, "you know, like Artemisia Lumpkin's new line. But they're for taller witches and…"
And Draco himself was acting much more pleasant than Harry had ever known him to be. Not to Harry, of course, as the pair of them hadn't really interacted since the previous year. It would have been suspicious if Harry didn't already know the avoidance on both of their parts was for the exact same reasons. But to everyone else – even some of the Gryffindors Draco had been very rude to previously – he was the very image of charming and gregarious.
That's important, Harry thought. There was a reason for Draco's change in behaviour. It was most certainly a purposeful change. Draco hadn't suddenly become friendly and outgoing. At his core, Harry knew Draco was the same as he'd always been – haughty, rude, prejudiced.
Disinterested in most people, and not especially inclined to be friendly either.
But he was acting as if he were otherwise, and that was important to note. He was evidently trying to impress. Trying to court positive opinions.
But why? Harry wondered. The Lucius-Voldemort amalgam had stated that Draco was 'better suited' to his current task than he had been his previous one of locating and transferring the horcrux to Voldemort's possession. That could only mean that the task was within Draco's ordinary competencies, since Harry doubted Draco would have had any time for learning any especially strange or obscure magic given his intensive summer training in occlumency.
Harry shifted in his chair and thought about what Draco was actually good at. The first thing that came to mind was flying, since it had been an ambition of Draco's to play Seeker for Slytherin coming into second year. That hadn't happened because of the Tournament, but he'd flown in the Aerobaticum instead.
And had only really got sidetracked from his competition because of the horcrux. But Harry couldn't think of any use that Voldemort would have for Draco's broom skills, at least not within the confines of what Draco could achieve at school. So that was out.
What else? Harry wondered.
Duelling, of course. While Harry didn't doubt that Draco's skills during the Pariturium had been enhanced by the horcrux, he couldn't deny that Draco himself had no small amount of skill too. Draco was a talented duellist in his own right. But even that seemed useless to Voldemort, who after all was much better, and commanded the loyalty of trained wizards with real war experience besides. Next to them, Draco was nothing.
He was rich, but all his money belonged to Lucius, whose body was literally possessed by part of Voldemort. So it couldn't be anything to do with that, either. Which meant… well, what it meant was still unknown to Harry.
Draco had a little talent at transfiguration, and he was good at potions, but Harry couldn't see how either of those qualities would be something that Voldemort could use while Draco was at Hogwarts. If Voldemort really did have someone on the inside at Hogwarts they were likely to be an adult wizard or witch with far better skills than Draco. With the revelation of Arlecchino's true identity as Corban Yaxley, Harry assumed he'd found Voldemort's agent in Hogwarts.
Harry didn't know Yaxley's skill in… anything, really, but he assumed the man had at least passed his OWLs. So that left Draco's meagre talents without any use.
As far as Harry could tell – and he hadn't been as focused on Draco and his comings and goings as he had been the previous year – Draco hadn't been up to anything at all unusual. He was simply attending his lessons, extracurriculars, and occasionally discharging his prefectly duties. The only unusual thing was his expanded circle of friends, and that was only unusual because Draco had always been a lot more selective in who he hung around with.
Making friends. Making friends… That was something unusual. The only unusual thing Draco was doing that year. Which meant… which meant…
"I've got it!" Harry said to himself, forgetting exactly where he was.
"Got what?" asked Millie.
"A sudden bout of madness by the sound of it," Blaise said.
"Er…" Harry said, glancing around. He lowered his voice before speaking. "I think I've figured out what the weird thing Draco's doing is. He's… well, I think he is, anyway—I reckon he's doing a bit of recruitment for Voldemort."
His friends knew about his suspicions and had, to their credit, been telling him bits and pieces of what they'd seen of Draco's actions. The only problem was that it hadn't added up to anything. But Harry thought he'd figured it out. It felt right in a way his other theories hadn't.
Blaise seemed unconvinced, but Tracey nodded along.
"I could see that," Tracey said.
"Maybe not active recruitment," added Daphne, "but sounding people out. I was just saying to Millie last week, actually, not to get involved with Helga Nightshade—her family's not very nice at all, and from what I can see she's exactly like the rest of them."
For Daphne to have cautioned Millie in such a way Harry assumed that 'not very nice' meant something rather a lot stronger than it seemed on the surface. And if so, it made sense that Draco had included her in his group. Someone whose family was sympathetic to the cause, but had never actively joined it, could prove a tempting target for recruitment.
Or perhaps her family had been involved in Death Eater activities and that was why. No doubt Draco was privy to all sorts of information.
"Well… I suppose that does make sense," Blaise agreed after a few moments. "But what can we do about it?"
Harry shrugged.
"Nothing, probably. Anyone who's been charmed by Draco into becoming a junior Death Eater probably isn't someone we can win around," Harry said.. "But ever since I had the—er—I mean, since I noticed that Draco was up to something weird I've been wondering what it was. Just thought it was worth knowing. Since, er, last year turned out really well for us…"
"Alright, fair point," Blaise said. "It does make sense. Since you said about it last time I've been keeping an eye on him and he does seem friendlier than usual this year. At first I thought maybe it was just… you know… he's settled in and he's back to normal after what happened last year. But you're right and it could be part of what he's been asked to do."
"And I don't reckon You-Know-Who would let him come back here without giving him a job to do," Millie said quietly. "It seems like it would be a waste. I mean, if I was a Dark Lady I'd want my minions doing something instead of nothing."
"Is Draco technically a minion, though?" wondered Tracey. "We know he was up to something last year but he hasn't got the—the Mark, has he? We know that because we've all seen him without long sleeves. So maybe he's just been told to go off and… network, I suppose we could call it."
Harry glanced back over at where Draco sat with his 'friends'. One of them was speaking, his hands moving animatedly. Draco sat there smiling. It was almost a perfectly natural interaction, but something felt wrong about it to Harry.
"I reckon that's exactly it," Harry said. "I don't think he's technically a Death Eater. Just, you know, the next closest thing." Harry paused. "I wonder if he's reporting to Yax—er, Arlecchino. You know who I mean."
"I've never seen them together," Blaise said, "and I spend more time with Arlecchino than most people do."
That was true, Harry supposed. Blaise reported to Yaxley after his Inquisitorial patrols. But if Draco and Yaxley really were Voldemort's men in Hogwarts they'd probably be a bit more secretive about it.
"Draco might just be in this on his own," Tracey said. "You know, he's got his job and maybe he doesn't even know anything about Arlecchino."
"Maybe," Harry said, still looking over and Draco and his group. That would make sense, especially since Draco didn't seem to have been actually doing anything. Nothing more than making friends, anyway.
"I suppose we'll know who to look out for," Millie said, looking over and Draco and his group. "You know, for the future. When it all starts again…"
That made for grim listening, but Millie was perfectly right. Who Draco spent his time with – who he was specifically trying to woo – would go a very long way to furnishing them all with a list of names to check out for less than savoury affiliations.
"Good point," Harry said. "I'm going to try and hear what sorts of things they're talking about." He paused. "Not right now, but when I get the chance. Just to see…"
Blaise scoffed.
"Mate, I doubt they'll be talking about anything incriminating in public," he said. "It's hardly like they'll be sat there going, 'I can't wait to join the Dark Lord, who we serve loyally, for some nice muggle torture this afternoon!' Even we're careful about exactly what we say and we're on the other side."
"And we're always quiet when we talk," Daphne said.
"Oh, but do you know, I do wish we knew some sneakier spells," Tracey said. "Something to keep people from hearing us say things… just in case!"
"Well, fair," said Blaise. "But you get what I'm saying, don't you?"
"I know that," Harry said. "Obviously I don't think they'll be saying anything that people don't already say. And they won't be loud about it either. I was just thinking that I wanted to really hear how Draco's actually speaking with them. Since, well, we all know what's he's like usually. But if he's trying to recruit, then…"
It just seemed as if Draco would have to behave differently if that was his job. He couldn't go into it being as haughty and superior as he usually was or it would put most people off.
"I think that makes sense," Daphne said. "I'll make sure to watch him too. And I'll see what I can get out of Pansy next time we're on patrol together."
"Nice one, Daph," Harry said. Harry would have tried coaxing something out of Draco himself, but he never got put on patrols with Draco and they even largely had different lessons. So there wasn't any opportunity to speak with Draco alone.
Not that Harry thought it would have gone particularly well. He and Draco had never had particularly smooth interactions and with everything that had happened the previous year, doubted they would ever.
Talk soon turned back to more quotidian things after that, which Harry didn't mind at all, not when he had something concrete to work on. It was just a matter of finding an opportunity to lurk around Draco and his new friends without looking like that was what he was doing.
Harry's opportunity to eavesdrop on Draco and his friends came a few days later. With the weather becoming slightly nicer – although still wetter and windier than Harry would have liked – students had taken to roaming the grounds and hanging out in various outdoor spaces. Not in especially large groups, since the Inquisition's rules on larger groups of students being disallowed still stood, but in twos and threes with the occasional large group meeting after having sought formal permission.
A route that Harry and his friends had no intention whatsoever of going down, so they were forced to hang out in much, much smaller groups no larger than three at a time. Which wasn't great when there were eight of them.
But they managed. On that particular Saturday afternoon Harry, Ernie, and Blaise were hanging out in the Transfiguration Courtyard. It had been pleasant enough, a nice time without the girls although it would have been nicer if Justin had been there, too. It was a nice change after that morning's session of Flight Club, anyway. Not too long into their morning lounge Draco came into the courtyard with his friends.
They had sought proper permission to form a group, which meant Draco was there with most of his hangers on. They didn't seem to notice the three boys, who were after all sat in a more secluded part of the expansive courtyard to avoid the odd bit of wind.
But Draco and his friends sat down not too far from them along a series of stone benches arrayed along pillars holding up one of the castle's exterior walkways. Harry nudged Ernie and Blaise as Draco and his friends took their seats, and they all lowered their speaking volume just to see what was being said.
"…Mummy doesn't like the new house elf," one of Draco's friends was saying – a new girl who wasn't in any of Harry's lessons. She sounded as if she was from the Midlands, but it was sometimes hard to tell with the wizard-raised because they had slightly different accents. "Got all sorts of strange idea from its last owners, apparently. Daddy says it just needs to get used to how we do things, but Mummy isn't best pleased."
"Our elves know exactly how to behave," Draco said in reply. "Father's made sure that they're all obedient and loyal to us. If you'd like, I'm sure Father would be happy to discuss his methods with your parents. They're always happy to network with the right sorts, you know."
"Maybe I'll say something about it to them," the girl said. "You never know, it could help. But what's really annoying is that the last owners even let it get that bad. Honestly, doesn't anyone know how important it is we keep the creatures in their place? With all what's going on with the goblins, it makes you wonder, doesn't it."
At that, her companions – Draco included – made all the right sorts of noises. The topic was clearly well-trodden, and Harry couldn't even blame them, since the furore with the goblins was a common topic of conversation amongst the castle's citizens, eclipsed only by Dumbledore's treason charge and the Inquisition itself.
"I don't know why we even let goblins live in the country," Pansy said. "It would be better for everyone if we could just find an island somewhere to send them so they couldn't bother anyone."
"Bit far," Blaise muttered. "I mean, I can see her point but it's just a bit—it's not very—you can't just go about exiling everyone you don't like…"
"It never stops with exile either," Ernie said. "We saw that last time."
"Mm," agreed Harry quietly.
"After the last rebellion we should have rounded them up and dumped them somewhere else," continued the first girl, the one who'd complained about her house elf. "That's one of the things I liked about Durmstrang: you could say this sort of thing without the teachers getting upset about it. Not like here. Too much political nonsense getting in the way."
Draco and his friends' conversation carried on, but Harry had heard what he needed to hear. Draco was certainly acting strangely, and in a manner that confirmed to Harry that he was tasked with finding new recruits for Voldemort's cause.
…perhaps not directly, but he was definitely meant to be winning people to his side. Making friends, putting their parents in touch with his parents. Dark networking.
"Come on, let's sneak off," Harry said to Ernie and Blaise. "Just in case they notice us."
Although they weren't doing anything wrong, it would be easier not to be caught listening in. And it was generally just very unpleasant to be sat there listening to the sorts of things Draco and his friends talked about anyway.
The three boys got up quietly and left the Transfiguration Courtyard.
"Well, I reckon you were right about Malfoy," Ernie said as they walked away. The Hufflepuffs had been informed of the situation, of course, and had agreed to look out as well – although they generally had fewer opportunities for it. "He's definitely putting on the charm. The last time I saw him be that unctuous is when he learned we were mates after the Sorting and wanted to slip in." Ernie paused. "I wasn't interested, of course—apple hasn't fallen far from the tree, has it—but it did stick with me."
"Really?" Harry said. "I never knew he'd tried that."
"Oh, yes," Ernie said. "I didn't mention it because it's really rather gauche, you know, but…" He shrugged. "Seems like the right sort of time to say something."
"Fair," said Harry. "Yeah, he's definitely putting on the charm. I just wonder whether that's the only thing he's up to."
"Well, if it isn't, there's not much you can do about it, is there?" Blaise said. "Other than watching him, I suppose, but you're quite busy—and so are we all. Do we have the time to follow him about?"
"No," Harry said. "I know we don't. But it's worth having a think about, isn't it?"
Still, Harry felt happy with the idea that Draco was working in soft recruitment for Voldemort. It seemed unlikely to be his only occupation, but Harry didn't think he'd been given anything much more complex or difficult than that. Given his performance during the last task, Harry somewhat doubted either Voldemort had much confidence in his abilities.
So there was that.
Just before Easter Professor Dee rounded up the seven remaining third year alchemists to give them notice that the second alchemical practical would be held after breakfast on that day. It felt rather soon to Harry, but then he supposed any later would have been difficult to manage with all of the other exams and with the final Alchemy practical itself.
So after breakfast Harry collected his wind vessel containing the first winds of spring and headed straight for the Alchemy Department. The vessel was cold to the touch, and the wind swirled visibly inside the vessel.
Still good, Harry thought to himself. If the wind had stilled at all that would have meant a broken vessel, which would have rendered his first winds of spring completely useless – and meant he couldn't use his protocol. So that was nice, at least.
Harry arrived at the Alchemy Department with time to spare. There were only a handful of other students waiting for their own practicals to begin, including Hermione, Dragonsfoot, and Grimhallow. The contrast between Grimhallow and Dragonsfoot was always amusing to Harry, as Grimhallow was tall – especially for a girl – while Dragonsfoot was very short indeed. Stood together their relatively unusual heights were even more apparent.
"Alright?" Harry said as he slipped into place near to them. "Everyone prepared?"
"Yes, thank you," Hermione said. "I was just saying that it feels quite nice to be finally getting this one out of the way. It's important of course, but after we've done this we can get started on revision for the exams."
"And preparing for the last Alchemy practical," added Grimhallow. "That one's the hardest one of all."
"It's the thing I'm most worried about, honestly," Dragonsfoot said. "It's not that I'm worried I can't manage it," he continued, "it's just a lot more dangerous if it goes wrong…"
"We'll just have to make sure we don't get it wrong!" Harry said with a grin. As worrying as it was, Harry didn't think dwelling on it overly much was helpful at all. The best thing to do would be to listen to Professor Dee and Mr Flamel, work through the protocol diligently, and then everything would go according to plan.
"Easy for some of us," muttered Grimhallow.
"Is there a time limit on today, do you know?" Harry asked. The previous practical technically hadn't had one at all, but Harry knew the practicals all differed.
"Ten hours," supplied Hermione. "I asked Professor Dee. He said it's because the Draught is technically easier to complete, even if it's more complex to design a protocol."
Harry nodded.
Ten hours would be more than enough. He didn't think his protocol would run any longer than eight at the absolute maximum. And that only if Harry dawdled.
"Fair enough," Harry said.
"I've been a bit worried mine would run over," Dragonsfoot said. "Since I didn't get the first winds of spring I had to build in another layer of symbolism, and I've had to put in a few extra steps…"
"I'm sure you'll be fine," Harry said in what he hoped was a supportive tone. Dragonsfoot was a decent enough alchemist, especially for someone who'd been homeschooled for two years before starting it at all. The very fact that he'd made it past the Salve was proof enough to Harry, anyway. "But if you're not using the first winds, what did you go with? Regular winds?"
Dragonsfoot nodded.
"Yeah. Wind, skull of bat, a bunch of different feathers," Dragonsfoot said. He shrugged. "Got some deep seashells as well. My mum collects them, so we had a load just in the house anyway… So I had her send some up. It's a bit of a go around honestly but without my Flying cert… and I didn't realise that students were allowed to go out to the Old Owlery, so I didn't collect the first winds of spring. If I had…"
"That's rough," Harry said. Grimhallow had chosen not to fly, but Dragonsfoot simply wasn't allowed to. And then no one had told him about the Old Owlery… But the idea to use seashells was a great one, and one Harry wished he'd considered himself. The sound symbolism was a nice one, even if according to muggle science the seashells didn't actually make any noise themselves.
But that's fine, Harry told himself. His protocol had been signed off by Dee and Flamel, so it was likely to work if Harry got through it all properly and didn't deviate from it. Harry settled in to wait for the others to attend the practical, and eventually Dee, Flamel, and Ms Platt arrived with the Ministry officials to watch over the process once more.
Once everyone was ushered into the appropriate rooms and the standard spiel about the rules was given out, Harry was able to begin. The very first thing he had to do was set out his ingredients, which was the easiest part of the whole thing. After that Harry made sure his apparatus was set up correctly, since he didn't want to waste any of his time fussing with an overly tight valve or an improperly secured tube during the practical itself.
Once he was sure everything was set up properly, Harry drew out the alchemical sigils around his apparatus. That part was easy enough to do since Harry had memorised each and every one he needed to use for the ritual, drawing them out again and again until he was able to do so without thinking about it. Mr Flamel had spent ages during his lessons talking about the importance of properly drawn and placed sigils, and Harry didn't want to get them wrong.
Harry drew a wide circle with his alchemist's chalk around the apparatus, and then added the different pieces he needed for his reaction. Triangles forming stars, of course, as those were basic alchemical shapes, but other, more esoteric sigils. That took up a good bit of time, but glancing around the rest of the lab, Harry could see he wasn't the only one doing it.
Good, Harry thought to himself. Not that he would have stopped if he had been alone in it, but it was nice to know that he wasn't doing anything wildly different from everyone else.
Then he set about the protocol itself. Mr Flamel had suggested that all of the best Draughts of Aural Acuity leaned very strongly on the transformative power of spring. That made sense to Harry, as spring was a powerful time of birth and rebirth in the natural world: the transition from the death of winter into the new life of spring was a powerful one in many cultures all over the world. For alchemy specifically such a symbolism was strong indeed.
And the as the ritual was taking place during spring, that compounded it. A nice little boost to the whole thing, and for free.
So Harry had woven it tightly into his procedure. He'd collected various bits and pieces from the outskirts of the Forest, and that was in addition to what Dee had supplied from the alchemical stores. After making the solvent Harry's very first steps involved the processing of a whole slew of different seeds, flower buds, and even roots. He'd even considered asking Sprout for some mandrake given the plants' powerful association with sound and hearing but had given up on the idea when he'd realised it would be the wrong kind of association.
But even so Harry had gathered quite the array of materials, some suggested by Dee or Flamel and some gathered off the back of his own research into the process.
Harry got to work. He chopped, crushed, and cut his various plants; added moss and earth and all sorts of other bits and pieces to soak in his rosewater; and then measured out powders.
Ms Platt wandered around the alchemical laboratory wafting the alchemical incense around the room. Unlike the last time Harry didn't cough when breathing it in, having grown much more used to it. It helped that he knew when to time his breaths, he supposed.
Harry fell into a good rhythm. Although the parts of the ritual were many and varied, none of the techniques were things Harry hadn't encountered before either from Alchemy lessons or from Potions. And the sounds of everyone else in the room cracking on with their own rituals made it much easier to concentrate.
Harry glanced around every so often, checking on his classmates' progress, but spent much more time engaged with his own ritual.
And it felt good.
Quite apart from Dee and Flamel having signed off on it, Harry simply felt like he'd created exactly the right protocol for his needs. Unlike his previous go with the Salve Harry had created several different incantations which would be woven throughout the ritual. Nothing quite as complex as what the NEWT students were doing, but Harry thought different ritual words would be better for different parts of his ritual.
So that's exactly what he'd done.
"Ver floreat, vita renascitur," said Harry, sprinkling his crushed woodland fern into his solvent. He added the flower buds, dried stems, and a collection of seeds. "Vires vernae, renovatio et vigorem tribuite. Naturae pulchritudo, in nova vita floreat."
Harry watched as the motley collection of plant matter dissolved into his alchemical liquid. The various bits and pieces represented springtime and the power of natural birth and rebirth, an endless natural cycle stretching far into the past and presumably which would go on far into the future as well. A powerful anchor for any bit of magic.
But the various bit of woodland tat he'd collected weren't alchemically active. Necessary for the magico-symbolic workings of the ritual, but not for the effects Harry needed. Although that didn't mean Harry could afford any lapses in his attention, as burning the liquid or really any kind of mistake at that level could prove catastrophic for his Draught later on.
So Harry paid special attention to the activities of his ingredients in the solvent.
"Ver floreat, vita renascitur," Harry said again, waving his hand around the alchemical apparatus. He didn't need his wand for that bit, although at another point in the reaction he did. Mr Flamel had suggested a wanded incantation would make the ritual effect more powerful, and so Harry had found a way to work it into his ritual.
The various bits of plant continued dissolving into the solvent as they were supposed to do, which filled Harry with a lot of confidence in the ritual.
He kept at it. While he didn't expect to need the full ten hours, he still didn't want to waste any time just in case he did need it. So Harry progressed through the steps necessary to make his Draught, and wove his incantations into the process.
"Floreant sensus, ex vere renascentur," Harry continued.
He was almost ready to add the first winds of spring, but first he needed to prime the reaction for it through a combination of his incantation and other ingredients. Harry carefully added the necessary pieces and watched them for the signs it was time to add the first winds of spring. He couldn't unstop the vessel until just the right moment as the winds would go rushing out, so it was a fine line between waiting too long and blowing his winds early.
When it looked like it was near the time Harry got ready with the vessel and started his incantation.
"Primi venti vernales, potentiam revelate!" Harry said as he unstopped the vessel and decanted the winds into the appropriate funnel. "Vires vernae, renovatio et vigorem tribuite. Naturae pulchritudo, in nova vita floreat!" Harry continued, invoking both the power of spring and the winds to lend strength to his alchemical reaction.
That was the most critical part, the part Harry had wanted to get exactly right, since it paired the powerful energy of birth and rebirth of spring with the symbolism of the winds. It was the centre point of his entire ritual, the point around which everything else fell into place.
The wind shot through the glassware until it reached the liquid. Immediately the alchemical fluid whirled around the vessel, cascading in a frenzied, chaotic mess. Liquid sloshed against the sides of the glassware again and again, churned by the captured first winds of spring.
"Per vim aurae, per vigorem veris!" Harry said. "Augmentetur auditus, divina facultate!" Harry finished. He'd designed the ritual words to harness the power of spring, tying it to his need for improved hearing. Although the apotheosis was still a way off, Harry had laid the foundations for it.
Harry took a breath. He'd made it half way through the protocol. The winds had been added, and it was a simple matter of waiting until they'd permeated the liquid fully and everything had calmed down before he could add anything else. Until then Harry worked through his incantations, using different ones at each point to infuse the reaction with just the right kind of power at just the right time.
As far as Harry could tell – which was admittedly not very far at all – everything seemed to be working. His liquid looked exactly like it was supposed to, a kind of off-pink colour which was mystifying to Harry considering that he hadn't put anything pink in it yet, and the different ingredients had all behaved how they were meant to. Which must have meant everything was working, but then again Malone had burned out his own eyes and he'd obviously thought the same thing.
Harry took a look around the laboratory. It was a bit dark because the windows were shuttered, and the smoky haze from the alchemical incense certainly didn't help, but everyone else looked to be making good progress as well. Everyone's glassware seemed fine, with various different liquids bubbling, smoking, and in one case glowing. Nobody looked as if they were especially far behind, anyway, and nobody's apparatus was showing any of the obvious signs of alchemical danger. At least according to Flamel's instruction, which made Harry feel a lot better.
And the ambience felt just right. It almost didn't feel like an exam to Harry, merely another afternoon session of practical Alchemy. The lab felt right, the atmosphere conducive to great works. Although he supposed that possibly down to the huge amount of smoke from the alchemical incense wafting about.
At least his reaction wouldn't be rendered useless due to an unfortunate accident from one of his classmates. Harry returned to his Draught. The liquid bubbled nicely, the winds calmed down and all the basic ingredients had fully dissolved. The pinkish colour had gone, but Harry wasn't worried about that – at that point in the reaction, he wanted a colourless liquid anyway. The pink was supposed to come back later. Harry watched a few more seconds just to be sure, then reached for pot of silver on his workbench.
He'd reached the part where he had to add more traditional alchemical ingredients, and he didn't want to mess it up.
The silver needed to be carefully measured, which Harry had done before he'd started. But on top of that he needed to add it slowly to prevent clumping. So Harry positioned himself exactly where he needed to be above the neck of the vessel midway along his apparatus, and then started to add the powdered silver as slowly as possible, a few grains at a time.
At that stage in the reaction Harry couldn't stir at all since it all took place in a sealed bubble jar near the middle of the apparatus. So it was a matter of waiting and hoping he hadn't been too quick adding the silver.
The liquid bubbled in the jar as the silver powder dissolved into it. Harry let out a sigh of relief. That meant he could add the mercury.
Harry kept at it. Over the course of several hours the others started to finish their reactions. At first, just Grimhallow, but then Dragonsfoot and Brocklehurst. Boot lasted a while longer, but eventually it was just Harry, Hermione, and Theodore in the laboratory along with the Ministry official and Ms Platt. Of the three of them, Hermione finished first, disappearing into the adjoining alchemical store room to get her Draught evaluated by the Ministry official and Professor Dee. Harry checked on his own progress.
He was near the end. Very close, in fact.
The liquid was mostly still, except where it bubbled occasionally. But the first winds of spring had fully infused the liquid, and Harry thought what was in his vessel could reasonably be called a Draught of Aural Acuity. It was even the pinkish colour the final product was supposed to be, which was as good a sign as any. With his wand in hand, Harry spoke the ritual words – this time a much longer, much more intricate, set.
He worked his way through the incantation and when he was done, decanted the liquid into the glassware he'd set aside for just that purpose. He stoppered it immediately, keen not to get it contaminated with anything. He checked around for Ms Platt, whose say he needed to submit his Draught for testing. By then she'd finished with Hermione – for good or ill – and was back inside the laboratory, so Harry stuck up his hand.
Platt asked Harry to wait for a moment while she got Professor Dee, but it didn't take her very long at all, and soon enough Harry was in the adjoining room with Professor Dee and a Ministry official – something Tofty, Harry thought.
Harry placed the vessel containing his Draught onto a workbench in the storeroom and waited for further instruction.
"So, for this one," Dee said after a glance at Tofty, "you've got to drink it. You know how this goes: if you refuse to test it, you fail and get kicked off the course. This late in the year that means you'll just be down one OWL, no chance to make it up with another class. At least not until next year, if you really want to. That make sense?"
Harry nodded.
"Yes, Professor."
"Good. You're not a complete idiot, then. Now, I'm going to have a little look at the Draught before we let you loose on it," Dee said. "The consequences of failure with this particular alchemical work range from 'mild deafness' to 'persistent vegetative state' and we'd all prefer not to get anywhere close to the latter. But if you followed your protocol exactly and maintained the right sort of mental state throughout that won't happen. Mr Tofty, I'm about to do the test."
Harry swallowed.
"Yes, Professor."
"Good, good," Dee said. He unstopped the vessel and sniffed it, then stoppered it once more before swilling it around in the vessel. "Looks safe enough to test, if you're willing," he said after he placed the Draught onto the workbench.
"I—er—right, Professor," Harry said, staring at the Draught. If Dee had said it was safe enough to test that probably meant he wouldn't be at risk from entering a persistent vegetative state. Unfortunately that did still leave the full range of other potential negative effects. Deafness wasn't especially easy for wizards to cure, either, and Harry wasn't sure St Mungo's could give him a nice new set of artificial ears like Malone's new eyes.
But he'd come that far, and Dee thought it was safe enough to test, and both Dee and Flamel had signed off on Harry's protocol…
"I'll test it, sir," Harry said. It should work. He'd put everything together properly and hadn't used any ingredients or symbolisms that hadn't been signed off on by Dee and Flamel. So there was really no reason to worry about anything. No reason at all.
"When you're ready, Mr Potter," said the Ministry official. Tofty.
Harry nodded. He took his vessel, unstopped it, and then drunk the Draught back all in one go. The taste was absolutely foul – Harry had no real words to describe the taste itself, but if he could go the rest of his life without ever tasting it again that would still be too soon. Once he'd swallowed he was left with an almost minty aftertaste and a tingling throat.
Along with the desire to vomit repeatedly.
But that wasn't the worst part. Wave after wave of nausea came upon Harry, and he staggered backwards before realising he could lean on the workbench. While Harry leaned his hearing cut in and out, switching erratically from normal to absolute silence all around him.
Unlike with his Salve, Harry didn't feel any pain. Just a strange, almost wet, sensation inside his ears that reached right up behind his eyes and even down into his throat. And through it all that heavy nausea. Like a stomach bug that had come on suddenly, without warning.
Harry retched.
The nausea grew worse and worse with every passing moment. At times Harry could hear nothing, and yet there were moments when he felt like he could hear everything – Dee and Tofty's heartbeats; their breaths; the progress of his own blood through his veins.
An all-encompassing noise. Noise from everywhere and nowhere all at once, a buzzing in his ears unlike anything he'd ever felt before.
But just as soon as it had began it stopped, only to start all over again. Harry cradled his head in his hands and waited. He just had to wait out the bad bits, which would soon enough give way to his new alchemical reality.
Eventually.
So Harry suffered through the discomfort, even the mild pain, and the all-around weirdness for the promise of success right at the end. When Harry felt like his brain had liquified and run out of his ears for the final time he stood up, keen to see if he'd succeeded.
Which was much more difficult to tell than with his improved eyesight. For one thing, nobody in the storeroom was saying anything at all, and the thick, closed door between the storeroom and the laboratory beyond meant Harry could only vaguely hear the sounds of alchemical burners and just barely managed to hear Theodore's low, quiet chanting.
Which… he hadn't been able to hear through the door and the wall before, Harry supposed, so that was nice. A definite improvement. He focused on what he could hear inside the room itself.
But that wasn't anything. Nothing interesting, anyway. Of course he could hear Dee's heartbeat, and distinguish it from Tofty's rather slower, much more relaxed, heartbeat. But that was easy enough to do, nothing unusual… except that it was.
"I think it's worked," Harry said, blinking. "I can hear what's happening in the lab. And, er, I can hear your hearts beating. If I focus, anyway."
"Well, that does sound promising," Dee said, "since your protocol did include that little feature. But we'll have to run through all the tests anyway, of course."
Harry nodded. All that was fair. And he was interested in knowing just how well his Draught had worked, too, since there was a wide range of potential efficacies. Especially since he'd also thrown in a bit to give himself perfect pitch, which was an optional part of the ritual. It made everything much more complicated but as it could only be done once, while designing the initial Draught, Harry thought it prudent to just give it a go.
"I've got the apparatus ready and waiting!" said Tofty. He held a strange device in his hands, a sort of square frame with little attachments, and he gestured to another odd device on the workbench. "Before we begin I'll just insulate the storeroom so nobody outside can hear the noises!" He waved his wand and cast a few wordless spells before putting it away again. "Now then, Mr Potter—are you ready?"
"Yes, Pr—er—Mr Tofty," Harry said.
"Wonderful!" said Tofty. He placed the square frame with all its bits and pieces onto the workbench. "How this works is that I'm going to play a series of different noises to you. When the noise changes in form and volume, immediately speak out to let us know you've heard the change. After this I'm going to ask you to note down on this form a similar sequence, and then after that—because you have chosen to expand the ritual and complete the optional components—we will have a rather more musical test of your abilities. Are you happy with this?"
"Yes, Mr Tofty," Harry said. The practical demonstration would be a little trickier, Harry supposed, but that wasn't anything he could change.
"Wonderful!" Tofty said. "John, if you'd like to wear your muffs?"
Both Dee and Tofty donned a set of earmuffs each.
"Let's begin," Tofty said.
Tofty went through the series, starting with an extremely loud chime from the odd square frame. It was so loud Harry reckoned that without Tofty's charm the entire castle could have heard it. But it didn't hurt Harry's ears at all, which meant his ritual had worked.
Part of it, anyway.
Since there was really no point in having dramatically improved hearing if he couldn't use it due to pain or discomfort.
The noises got quieter after that, although the increment didn't seem too large to Harry's ears. But each one was quieter than the one before until the volume reached such a low point that Harry thought Tofty was producing sounds he'd never been able to hear before.
Sounds that no human save an alchemist had ever been able to hear before, which was an interesting thought indeed. But Tofty didn't stop until he reached the nadir, a point which Harry could still quite comfortably hear.
"Very good!" Tofty said. "Next we'll do something very similar, but I want you to jot down your answers onto the parchment…"
"Yes, sir," Harry said. He went through the task. It was more or less the same task again, but with different noises. Definitely nothing for Harry to worry about anyway. When Tofty was finished with that he picked up the unused device on the workbench.
"And now for the optional part!" Tofty said. "I always enjoy this part—always fancied myself a bit of a musician, you know. Not that I'm any good, mind you. Not enough practise. Well, if you're ready?"
"Er, I think so, Mr Tofty," Harry said.
"Wonderful! For this part we're going to play notes both in and out of key, and we want you to tell us when you're hearing a pure note or not. It doesn't need any musical talent or knowledge because we will go through the notes first. Is this acceptable?"
"Yes, of course," Harry said.
Tofty played various different sounds from the little box – which Harry supposed could reasonably be called a music box – and Harry gave his answers. He'd never been especially musical, couldn't play an instrument and didn't even sing very well, but Harry thought he'd identified everything properly. And it really was as Tofty had said: he didn't seem to need prior knowledge of musical notes or anything like that.
So Harry felt quite positive about the whole thing.
"And we're done!" Tofty said. "I'll just check over the parchment while I add everything up for a proper evaluation, but I am quite happy to say that you've passed this component of your OWL in Alchemy. You should be very proud of yourself."
"I've passed?" echoed Harry. "That's… that's great, thank you, Mr Tofty!"
"You did well," Dee said. "Again. Looks like you've got a talent for alchemy. Not many do, to be frank, so it's worth keeping at it for the NEWT. You've done really well. I think you hit every point on the rubric, so that's a nice result for you. How do you feel?"
"If I'm honest, sir, not as excited as I was for the Salve," Harry admitted. It was nice having improved hearing, but the difference wasn't quite so stark, and Harry felt like ridding himself of his glasses was still the more impressive achievement.
Dee laughed.
"Yes, that's quite a common thing to hear," he said. "The Draught's a step up from the Salve, but in a lot of ways it just doesn't feel like it is. It's more dangerous and you didn't end up a vegetable, so that's something."
"You should be proud, Mr Potter," Tofty added, "because you got top marks on this one! Well done, lad, well done!"
"Thank you, Mr Tofty!" Harry said.
"And I should get back to the uppers," Dee said. "They'll be in there until midnight and there's half a dozen ways things could go catastrophically wrong. And that's if they aren't idiots, and I'm quite sure that one of them is in fact an idiot."
Dee ushered Harry out of the far side door, and then shut it behind Harry. Unconcerned, Harry made his way back to the dungeons to enjoy the rest of his day. Or what was left of it until he had to head to dinner, at least. He reckoned he had time for a shower and then maybe could settle in to listen to the Wireless.
There would be far fewer opportunities to test out his near hearing than his sight, but he supposed he could sit in the Common Room listening to people's conversations.
…in a totally not creepy or suspicious way.