Chapter 4 - Sensomagy
As unbelievable as it was to think of a school of magic, Harry Potter fell into a routine at Hogwarts.
From Professor Flitwick's stories about his mother, Harry learned that she was quite the prodigy. He didn't think he was smart enough to even come close to her academic prowess but promised himself that he'd try nonetheless. It was what his mum would want him to do.
Much to Ron's irritation, Harry spent more time in the library studying with Hermione. While he wasn't even close to his bookish friend's level, he liked to think he was on track to pass all his classes and even excel in most of them. He had no delusions about scraping better than an 'Acceptable' in Snape's potions class.
After his first session with Professor Flitwick, Harry practised clearing his mind every night before going to bed. It took him many nights of practice to replicate the success he'd found during the first. The first few times, he fell asleep before even entering the empty state.
One night, he was trying to think of and mimic the feeling of being in an empty state. Something particularly hard to do as the feeling he was trying to mimic was, well, nothing. He remembered that he had Quidditch practice the next morning, and decided he needed to sleep. Harry's thoughts drifted to flying and the feeling it gave him. The freedom. The ability to leave his problems behind on the ground. The clarity and emptiness that took over his mind as the wind rushed louder than any thoughts he could formulate.
Clarity and emptiness. The epiphany came to him as he drifted into sleep.
The next night, Harry tried to imagine himself on his broom. He imagined the wind rushing against his face and whistling in his ear. Unlike the fly, it was a familiar and pleasant sound, so he felt no urge to stop it. Then he slipped into nothingness. He was overjoyed when he snapped out. He was able to replicate his success the next night, and his mood only improved.
As he practised, he required less and less time to enter what he began calling the Nothing. As he became more familiar with his mind, he found it easier to retain information and recall memories. He became increasingly proficient with his mind, and Flitwick promised they'd move to the next step after the break.
Speaking of break, Harry was one of the first to sign up to stay in the castle for Christmas. To his surprise, Ron and his brothers also signed on. Ron explained that his parents were going to Romania to visit his older brother Charlie, who was working with dragons.
Harry woke on Christmas morning to loud cheers from Ron. The boy was sitting on the foot of his bed, staring excitedly at a large pile of presents. Harry felt a pang in his chest as he watched Ron sift through his pile. He sat up in bed, feeling the ugliness of jealousy claw at him.
"Morning, Harry!" Ron grinned at him. "Happy Christmas!"
Harry mumbled a response. His mood was rather foul as he swung his legs over the side and accidentally kicked a nondescript package at the foot of his bed.
Wait a minute.
He looked down at the pile of presents in shock.
He had presents.
Harry picked up a package from the floor and held it as though a slight breeze might shatter it. The wrapping paper was scarlet, with tiny golden snitches that flitted across its length. It was with shaking hands that he gingerly pried the wrapping paper open before folding it and placing it on his bed. He heard ripping as Ron tore into his presents like a feral animal.
Inside was a navy blue book. QUIDDITCH THROUGH THE AGES was printed on the spine. On the front was a picture of a wizard on a broomstick chasing a snitch.
Harry picked up the book and was flipping through the pages when a note fell out.
I thought you'd like a copy for your own collection. Professor Snape can't confiscate this one. Happy Christmas Harry!
~Hermione
Just before his first Quidditch match, Hermione had borrowed a copy of this book from the library on his behalf. Snape confiscated the book for what Harry was certain was a made-up reason. When he'd gone to get it back, Harry saw the professor nursing a large gash in his leg. When Snape spotted him, he'd been so mad that Harry had hightailed it out of there without the book. He wished that whatever had hurt Snape had done a better job.
Harry's smile could've split his face before it curved into a frown. He hadn't gotten anyone presents – he hadn't been expecting any.
He felt guilty as he reached for the next present, placing the book on his bed. This one was wrapped in festive colours and rather lumpy. He peeled the wrapping back and folded it. Inside was an emerald green, knitted jumper, with a red 'H' in the middle. Very festive. He noted with a grin.
"Oh, that must be from my mum," Ron looked sheepish. "I told her you weren't expecting presents. Didn't think you'd get a jumper though. Mum always makes one for us kids. Wonder if I'll finally get one that's not maroon."
Ron sifted through his packages for an identical lumpy package. He frowned. "Nope, still maroon." He gave Harry an exasperated look before returning to his gifts.
Harry hugged the sweater, feeling how warm it was. He fished in the package for a tin of fudge. Delicious, he noted after sticking his finger in the tin and licking off the chocolatey goodness.
It took Harry twice as long as Ron to go through his presents, though that could be because of the reverence with which Harry opened them. He had never gotten presents before and wanted to savour the moment.
Along with the jumper from Mrs. Weasley and the book from Hermione, Harry had gotten presents from the entire Quidditch team. He had been rather amused by the practice snitch Angelina had given him, watching it buzz around the room before he caught it. He imagined Oliver would be quite happy with the present. Alicia had gotten him a sneakoscope, with a note saying to hold onto it for the next time someone jinxed his broom. Katie gave him a picture of his first snitch catch from their last match, and Harry wondered how she'd snuck a camera onto the pitch. The entire team had pitched in to get him goggles that would adjust to his poor eyesight, allowing him to forgo his glasses during matches.
Harry's gratitude only made him feel more guilty. He remembered the giant mountain of gold in his vault and lamented that he hadn't used any of it to get his friends anything.
With his upbringing, he never put too much stock into presents. In the past, such a line of thought only led to him watching wistfully as Dudley received mountains of gifts while Harry was locked away in his cupboard. But at Hogwarts, he had friends who wanted to give him presents, and that would take getting used to.
Harry wondered if there was a way to purchase things from Hogwarts. Maybe he could ask a professor. Then Harry had a revelation so obvious he physically restrained himself from facepalming. Perhaps he could write the stores and get them to send things over. He only hoped he had enough gold on him to cover everything – Merlin knew there was no way he could get to Gringotts to withdraw more money.
Before he could get completely lost in his pondering, Harry remembered the package he'd kicked away earlier and reached for it. He saw his name on it in loopy handwriting. He peeled back the paper, and a silky, shimmering mass of fabric fell out.
Harry held up the cloth and stood up. It was about as big as his bedsheets. It glittered in the sunlight and seemed to refract and warp the light near its surface.
Harry focused on the cloth which lit up with magic. The magic was nearly blinding and so much brighter than any broom he'd seen. The edges of the fabric pulsed with strands of magic that were a plethora of colours. Harry even saw the red, green, and white strands that he recognised as his own join the intertwined border. They mingled with a blue and orange strand that seemed brighter than most others. Oddly, despite being intertwined with each other, the strands didn't merge like the magic on the brooms had.
Other than the edges, the blanket was saturated with magic the colour of moonlight. It was a shining silver that shimmered like a sea of mercury and simply rolled with power.
Something told Harry that the magic he saw didn't belong to any ordinary wizard. Perhaps it didn't belong to a wizard at all. Did gods exist in the magical world?
"Harry, what you got there, mate?" Ron's voice cut through Harry's thoughts, and as he lost focus, the colours faded into the shimmering black that was the actual colour of the cloak. "Bloody hell, Harry is that an invisibility cloak?"
"A what?" Harry looked at the cloak. It was certainly opaque. He wrapped it around his shoulders and looked down to find he couldn't see himself from the shoulders down. "My body's gone!"
"Not gone, just invisible," Ron corrected absently, still looking wide-eyed at where Harry's body should have been. He took a tentative step forward and found he could still feel and use his lower body. Ron looked like Christmas had come – well, not early. "Mate, those are supposed to be really rare. And expensive. D'you know who sent it to you?"
Harry shook his head before unclasping the cloak and watching as his body reappeared as the cloth dropped to the floor. A note fluttered out from within its folds and Harry caught it.
Your father left this in my possession before he died. It's time it was returned to you. Use it well.
There was no address. No sender. Just the same loopy handwriting as the package.
The door to the dormitory opened and Harry had just enough time to stow his cloak under his pillow when Fred and George walked in, already wearing their jumpers. Fred's was blue with an orange 'G' on it, and George's was orange with a blue 'F'.
"Happy Christmas little brother," Fred beamed before grabbing Ron's jumper and stuffing him inside it. "Family spirit, Ronnie, you've got to match with your brothers."
"Sod off Fred," Ron grumbled from inside the jumper.
"Oi, I'm not Fred!" Fred crossed his arms in mock indignation. "Look at the jumper, you prat. I'm clearly Gred. Tell him, Forge!"
"There, there, Greddie," George said solemnly. "After all these years, he doesn't even recognise his own brothers."
"He breaks my heart, Forge," Fred wailed.
Ron grumbled as his head popped out from the jumper, though his arms were still trapped at his sides.
"What's going on in here?" Percy stuck his head in the door. He was fully dressed and held his Weasley sweater in his arms. He looked at the twins with disapproval. "What have you done with Ron?"
"What we're going to do to you, older brother," George grinned before nicking Percy's sweater and stuffing him in it.
Harry grinned at the commotion. When Fred looked at him, he raised his arms in surrender. "Already got mine on," he laughed as the twins gave him looks of approval.
"Look at Harry, he's got more family spirit than the two of you combined," George tutted as he dragged Percy out. The prefect barely avoided falling down the stairs as he tried to extricate himself from his jumper. Ron had given up and was following Fred of his own accord with his arms strapped to his side like a mummy.
Harry and the Weasleys went down to the Great Hall, where the four house tables had been replaced by one oblong table. The professors who'd opted to stay for the holidays were already seated, talking merrily. Harry sat down between Ron and Percy and smiled across the table at Professors Flitwick and McGonagall.
Christmas lunch – for Harry, Ron, and most others had slept through breakfast – was wilder than anything Harry had ever experienced. The Hogwarts kitchen staff had outdone themselves, and Harry found himself trying every dish he could get his hands on. He was still a little unused to being able to eat whenever and how much ever he wanted, so he tended to treat every meal like it was last.
At one point, He reached for the gravy boat and ended up knocking it into Professor Dumbledore's lap. A mortified Harry stammered out repeated apologies as a laughing Dumbledore cleaned himself with a wave of his wand before levitating the boat to him.
He watched the Professor open a wizarding cracker, get a large pirate's hat and trade it for Professor Flitwick's flowery gardening cap. It reminded him of the gifts he wanted to purchase.
"Percy, do you know if I could withdraw some money from my vault from Hogwarts?" he asked the older boy, who turned from his key lime pie and looked at Harry inquisitively.
"Well, no, you have to go to Gringotts and give them your key," Percy said, and Harry frowned. "Why do you ask? You shouldn't need money for much in the castle, and you're too young for Hogsmeade."
He blushed. "Well, I didn't get anyone Christmas presents, and I wanted to take out some money to buy some."
"Well, you don't need to withdraw money to owl order," Percy looked at Harry with a stern look of disapproval. "If you write a letter approving the withdrawal to the store owners, they can cash it in at Gringotts for you."
"Huh. I just write the amount on any piece of parchment?" he said dubiously, and Percy nodded as if it made all the sense in the world. "How do they detect forgery? Wouldn't it be really easy to forge my signature?"
"Your signature leaves traces of your magic, Harry," Percy spoke as if speaking to a little child. "That is why everyone says not to sign any documents without a solicitor. Usually, witches and wizards can't sense the magic on the signature – there's only very little – but the goblins have contraptions for that. They will know it's you."
Harry nodded slowly before turning away, leaving Percy to his pudding.
After lunch, the Gryffindors spent the rest of the day out in the snow. Most of their afternoon was spent in the middle of a snowball fight, and even the uptight Percy joined it when he and Ron were getting magically outclassed by the twins. A few other students who'd stayed over for the holidays joined in. Harry and Ron cheered as Fred and George enchanted snowballs to follow Professor Quirrell around and bump into the back of his turban. Sadly, the twins were caught and given detention, though it didn't seem to bother them much.
He was utterly knackered when he got back to Gryffindor Tower. The sun was just setting when he went to his dorm and grabbed his writing supplies. Over the course of the day, he'd weaselled information out of Fred, George, and Ron, both on present ideas and where to get them.
He'd procured a list of shops, including Honeydukes for candy, Zonkos for joke items (predictably, he had gotten this information from the twins), Spintwitches for Quidditch supplies, and Dervish and Banges for knickknacks and equipment like the sneakoscope Alicia got him. All these shops were in Hogsmeade, which the twins told him was a small wizarding village near Hogwarts – third years and above could visit.
Harry penned letters to all these shops, requesting owl-order catalogues. He also wrote a letter for Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley, even though he knew they would take longer to respond, being in London. He also asked whether they had any books on magical sensitivity. He knew it was a long shot, as rare as his ability was, but it never hurt to ask.
He folded up the letters and looked out the window. It was dark outside. He must've lost track of time, and when he looked at Neville's alarm clock, he realised it was already past curfew.
Harry knew he didn't have much time since he wanted the presents to arrive before his friends returned from break.
He bit his lip as he considered his options. His gaze landed on the shimmering silver fabric lying on his bed.
He grinned as he stuffed the letters into his rucksack. He threw the invisibility cloak over himself and looked in the mirror. He couldn't see a thing.
Harry snuck down the stairs and into the common room. It was mostly deserted, but the three younger Weasleys were immersed in a game of Gobstones. He looked between his friends and the exit, looking for a distraction when it came in the form of Percy. The prefect came down from his dorm and told his younger siblings to go to bed, which sparked an argument. With the occupants of the common room sufficiently distracted, he slipped out the entrance.
"Who's there?" The fat lady grumbled blearily as he walked out. He snuck away and heard the portrait snoring before he even turned the corner.
He crept through the dark corridors, sticking to the halls where the moonlight shone through the windows. The owlery was rather close to Gryffindor Tower, so he reached his destination with little trouble.
He trekked up the staircase to the west tower, and when his cloak got caught under his feet for the third time, he took it off. He reached the top of the stairs and shivered as a freezing draught hit him. He was suddenly thankful for the jumper Mrs. Weasley made him.
Harry spent a few moments breathing in the crisp winter air despite his chattering teeth. He tied his letters to Hedwig and watched her fly away. He looked over the balcony at the rolling Scottish hills blanketed in a thick coating of pearly white snow. He saw the tiny speck that was Hedwig fly toward a small village that he assumed was Hogsmeade.
He went back down the stairs. It was as he was unfolding his invisibility cloak that he had an idea.
When Harry had learned of his magical ability, he'd asked Hermione if she knew anything about it. She'd scoured the library for him, despite his refusal to explain why he needed the information. Still, she came up with nothing except what he already knew.
But Hermione hadn't had access to the restricted section. Perhaps there would be more information in there that Hermione hadn't found.
Even as he considered the pros and cons of sneaking into the library, Harry's legs had already taken him away from Gryffindor Tower.
The library was pitch black when he arrived. The large space was empty, and he nearly ran into a bookshelf that wobbled dangerously when he brushed against it.
"Lumos," His wand lit up and he grinned.
Harry crept deeper into the library, toward the back where he knew the restricted section was located. It was hidden behind a padlock that he quickly dispatched with a muttered "Alohomora."
The restricted section was organised much like the rest of the library. Bookshelves lined one of the walls and desks lined the other. He traced his finger along the spines of the books, looking for anything related to magical senses or rare magical abilities.
There were two books on the latter topic, and Harry gathered them onto a desk, picking one that gave him a clear view of the entrance. He found a leather-bound tome on mind manipulation and occlumency. He figured it couldn't hurt to skim through, so he added it to the pile.
While he hadn't looked through the entire restricted section, he felt he had enough books to parse tonight, so he sat at the desk and opened the first one.
Under the wand light, Harry read the spine of a blue, rough-skinned book that looked brand new compared to the positively ancient tomes surrounding it.
Rare and Dangerous Magical Abilities Lost to Time.
He flipped through the pages, looking for anything that mentioned magical senses or perception. His attention caught on a chapter titled 'Parseltongue'.
He opened the chapter, and he paled as he read the page.
Parseltongue is a rare magical ability that allows the wizard to speak to snakes. Many famous parselmouths have existed throughout history, such as Hogwarts founder Salazar Slytherin, dark wizard Herpo the Foul, and most recently, the Dark Lord Voldemort. As the most famous parselmouths have all been dark wizards, Parseltongue has largely been associated with dark magic and carries negative connotations in European wizarding society.
Harry's thoughts returned to his trip to the Zoo a few months ago on Dudley's birthday. He was certain he'd spoken to the Boa Constrictor that day at the zoo, and it had even spoken back to him. He didn't know how he did it and didn't know if it could be controlled. Did that mean he was destined to be a dark wizard like the man who'd killed his parents? His thoughts went back to his sorting back in September.
Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin.
The Sorting Hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin. What if the Hat knew about his ability and tried to warn the school? But he wasn't dark, was he? He was a Gryffindor. His friends were Gryffindors.
Your friends are Gryffindors, but are you? A traitorous voice whispered in his ear, and he screwed his eyes shut trying to block it out. The Hat wanted you in Slytherin for a reason. 'No one good ever comes out of Slytherin', isn't that what Ron said? Is this what drives him away? How will your friends react when they discover you're a dark wizard?
"I'm NOT a dark wizard!" He realised too late that he'd spoken out loud. He heard a shuffling sound in the corridor outside the library.
Harry swore under his breath and hastily placed the books where he'd found them. "Nox," he muttered as he threw on his cloak. He crept out the door.
"Colloportus," He tapped the door. As it locked again, Harry moved to the side just in time for Filch to turn the corner.
"You heard a student here, my sweet?" Filch asked, looking down at his feet. His cat, Mrs. Norris, purred as it approached the restricted section. "Out of bed, are we? Show yourself, rule breaker! Perhaps I can convince the headmaster to use my riding crop. Oh yes, that would be fun, wouldn't it?" Filch's cackle echoed as Harry edged towards the exit.
His heartbeat was fast and erratic against his chest. He slipped out of the library and nearly collided with Professor Snape.
Harry's breath caught in his chest as he barely avoided him. Perhaps he had felt the air shift from Harry's proximity because Snape turned and looked right at Harry. More accurately, he looked through Harry, for the bat-like professor looked away and entered the library.
Harry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
"Filch, what is it?" Harry heard Snape's voice from inside.
"Mrs. Norris heard a sound," Filch's scratchy voice was filled with frustration. "But the books in the main stacks are all untouched and the restricted section is still locked up."
"You woke me up because your cat heard a sound in a magic castle?" Harry could hear the sneer in Snape's voice. His lips quirked as he imagined Snape tearing Filch a new one. Yes, Harry's two least favourite people could send each other to the hospital wing, and he would be much happier for it.
"When I said to summon me in case of emergencies, I was referring to someone breaking into the third-floor corridor like after the troll incident. Not imaginary miscreants, you buffoon." Harry winced. Cranky Snape was even worse than regular Snape, and he had been under the impression that nothing was worse than regular Snape.
As he crept back to Gryffindor Tower, his thoughts kept returning to Parseltongue. He didn't want to think about that, so he turned to something Snape had said.
Someone had tried to break into the third-floor corridor – presumably the one that Dumbledore said promised certain death. And they had done it on Halloween when the troll had invaded the castle. Harry had never thought too hard about why the troll was in the dungeons. Was it related to this break-in? Was it just a distraction?
Harry stopped walking as he thought of the evil black and silver magic he'd felt on his jinxed broom. The last time he held his Nimbus, he'd hardly noticed the foreign magic. The broom had mostly become his. He could barely feel the broom maker's magic, let alone that of the wizard who jinxed it. But it was still there.
Harry thought it was suspicious that the jinxing of his broom and the troll invasion had happened only two weeks apart. How had the wizard gotten into the castle? What if they'd never left?
His thoughts drifted to Ron's guess that Snape was trying to do him in. He could believe that Snape tried to kill him – the man hated him enough.
But he felt he was missing something.
Harry was deep in thought as he crossed the threshold into the Gryffindor common room. He carefully folded his invisibility cloak, and after a moment of consideration, stuffed it into his rucksack. He liked the idea of keeping his father's old cloak on his person, and it certainly didn't hurt that he could use it to prank Malfoy. No, the Slytherin wouldn't know what hit him – in every sense of the word.
Harry changed into his pyjamas before slipping into bed. That night, when he did his nightly occlumency routine, he found his thought-clearing routinely interrupted by stray thoughts of Parseltongue and dark magic. After his sixth attempt, he gave up on trying to enter the Nothing and allowed sleep to take him. His slumber was plagued with images of his friends lying dead with snake bites on their necks. When he woke, he was distraught until he heard Ron snoring next to him.
The next day, Harry alternated between playing chess with Ron, doing homework and picking out presents for his friends. All the stores he'd reached out to responded to him instantly. They were all overjoyed to do business with THE Harry Potter. As much as he hated his fame, he was willing to accept its benefits just this once.
As he signed the last letter authorising Hermione's present, Harry felt a prickling feeling as his finger brushed his signature. Remembering Percy's words about magical traces, Harry closed his eyes and focused on the drying ink. He grinned, as from the ink emerged intertwined strands of red, green, and white.
He stuffed the parchment in his rucksack before donning his invisibility cloak. Harry wanted to make a trip to the restricted section after he dropped off the letters, so he waited till curfew before leaving Gryffindor Tower.
Harry traversed the moonlit castle with ease the second time around. He made the trek to the owlery without trouble, petting Hedwig for a few minutes before tying the letters to her feet. Just like the previous night, he slipped into the restricted section.
"Lumos," Harry muttered as he traced the spines along the wall, searching for the book he'd been reading the previous night.
He felt a rough texture under his fingers and pulled out the familiar blue book. He laid it on the desk and thumbed through it. His gaze lingered for a moment on the Parseltongue section before he clenched his jaw and turned the page. He flipped through a few more pages before he landed on a section titled Perversio Incantatem. Curiosity piqued; Harry read through the chapter.
Perversio Incantatem, or magic warping, is a branch of Sensomagy that involves modifying the very fabric of a spell, changing its intent and therefore its effect. Most commonly used for enchantments, Perversio Incantatem can be used to change the effects of any spell, given time and precision.
A primitive imitation of Perversio Incantatem can be used by skilled wizards who do not possess the talent. This imitation requires constant eye contact or the spell will revert. The imitation is also limited to adjusting the parameters of the original spell, whereas someone capable of full magical warping can change the acting spell in its entirety.
The last known practitioner of true magical warping was the legendary Merlin of Camelot. Since then, many have claimed to be practitioners of Magical Warping in the past, but when tested, were unable to showcase anything outside the scope of the imitation. This is likely because the rare talent of Sensomagy is a prerequisite for true Perversio Incantatem. For more details, see the chapter on Sensomagy.
The ability to manipulate the very fabric of magic. Such an ability sounded incredibly powerful to Harry, even though he didn't fully understand what it meant. He grinned as he imagined deactivating the charms on Malfoy's broom in the middle of their next Quidditch game.
His blood ran cold as he remembered Professor Flitwick's words.
They inverted the controls, causing the broom to fight itself to even stay upright.
Could Harry have identified the jinx that was used on his broom? Maybe it wasn't a jinx at all, but this Perversio Incantatem that the book spoke of.
Harry thumbed through the rest of the chapter, finding nothing of use. He flipped backwards through the book until he found the section titled Sensomagy.
Sensomagy, also known as magical perception or mage sight, is a sensory ability that allows one to perceive magic. When one with high sensitivity is first introduced to a magic-rich environment, their mind subconsciously compartmentalises the two worlds separately, allowing them to intuitively discern whether an object is magical or mundane. However, this is only a primitive version of Sensomagy and is common among muggleborns and the muggle raised.
True Sentiomagi are those that can not only determine whether an object is magical or non-magical, butthey can also determine the magical attributes of the object. Attributes such as the properties and purpose of the enchantment, the caster, or even the intended recipient of the enchantment.
Sensomagy is an ability that also acts as a gateway to others, such as Perversio Incantatem (see the chapter on Perversio Incantatem for more details). True Sentiomagi are rare, and those who have mastered the branches such as Perversio Incantatem are even rarer. Some famous Sentiomagi were Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin, Merlin of Camelot and Gellert Grindelwald. Grindelwald is the last known wielder of Mage Sight.
Harry grinned widely. He'd found it. He was a Sentiomagus.
He then realised that his mother's name wasn't in the book. Checking the date of publication, he found that the book was published in 1976 when his mum was still in school. Perhaps the author hadn't known she had the ability while she was still a student.
Harry began scratching down notes from the chapter. After a moment's consideration, he also wrote down everything he could on Perversio Incantatem.
He spent the rest of the holiday break in the same fashion. During the day, he spent time playing games with Ron and the twins or completing his homework (the Weasleys were not a fan of the latter). He'd even dedicated an evening to wrapping all the newly arrived Christmas presents. At curfew, Harry would sneak into the restricted section and read up on mage sight.
The books said the key to improving mage sight was to control his mind, so Harry continued his occlumency practice.
On the last night of break, Harry found himself poring over a book on occlumency and mind manipulation. He sat at his usual desk in the restricted section and skimmed over a chapter on clearing the mind. It was a component of occlumency that he felt he was getting a good grasp on, but he reread it absently anyway as he remained lost in thought.
His friends would be returning from break tomorrow. Harry wasn't sure how he would tell them about his invisibility cloak and mage sight. Thus far, Harry had kept the latter to himself. Ron knew about the cloak so Harry expected that Hermione would find out eventually, and he found he didn't mind telling her about it either. It was the mage sight that he was conflicted about. He knew Hermione would want to learn it too, and he didn't know if he liked that idea, even if it was unlikely she had the affinity for Sensomagy that he did.
Harry had never had anything that he was better at than anyone else. He'd never had something he could call his own, that no one else could do. Harry knew he was a good flier, but so were Angelina, Alicia, and Katie. Harry thought he was a decent student but knew Hermione was better. His mage sight was the only thing he had that was alone. After a childhood of growing up with nothing to call his own, a part of Harry wanted to jealously guard it for himself.
"Ah, occlumency. Quite a useful talent, Harry," a cheery voice spoke from a corner of the restricted section.
Harry jumped in his seat, scrambling to his feet as he turned to look at Professor Dumbledore. Harry felt the blood rush from his face. The bloody headmaster just caught him breaking curfew and sneaking into the restricted section.
"Headmaster! I can explain, I was just –" Harry spluttered before falling silent. He'd been caught red-handed. No excuse could get him out of this situation.
"Worry not, Harry. You're not in trouble. I can understand curiosity, even if it comes at the cost of the rules," Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he looked down at him.
Harry was confused but kept his guard up. He couldn't be sure he wasn't being tricked. "How long have you been here, professor? How did you turn invisible, do you also have an invisibility cloak?"
"I do not need a cloak to turn invisible, Harry," said Dumbledore, with a twinkle in his eye. Harry watched in silence, not sure what to say. Dumbledore cut through the awkward silence.
"Professor Flitwick informed me of your ability," he said. Harry's eyebrows raised into his fringe. "Sensomagy is very rare, and I was pleased to hear that we have a student with such an affinity this year. I presume that is what you are researching?" Dumbledore walked over to the desk Harry had been using before picking a book from his pile and looking it over.
"Yes, sir," Harry hesitated before asking. "Am I going to be banned from the library?"
"No, no, Harry," Dumbledore laughed. "If we pushed students for curiosity, what kind of teachers would we be?"
Harry nodded slowly, still uncertain of his fate.
"Are these all the books you need for your research, Harry?" At his nod, the professor continued. "Then I will allow you to take these back to your dorm with you."
Dumbledore smiled at Harry's gobsmacked expression. "Curiosity is a wonderful trait to have. But, as with all talents, it must be tempered lest you find yourself treading the wrong path."
Harry nodded. He wondered how Dumbledore would react if he knew Harry could speak to snakes. Would he believe that Harry was already on the wrong path? Would he think Harry to be evil?
Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "Magic has the power to create wonders and horrors alike. It is not your talents that make you righteous, but what you use that talent for. Have a good night, Harry."
The next morning, Harry woke to the loud ringing of Neville's alarm clock. Usually, he was awake before the alarm even rang, but the holidays had really messed up his sleep schedule. After getting ready for classes, Harry entered the common room andsaw Hermione sitting alone in an armchair. Unsurprisingly, she had her nose in a book.
"Hey 'Mione," Harry dropped into the chair opposite her as she looked up at him insurprise. "Have a good break?"
"It was good," she said, putting her book down. "You?"
"Best Christmas I've ever had," Harry grinned.
"Did you get my present?" Hermione asked, suddenly looking nervous. "I hope you liked it. I don't have a lot of experience giving gifts to friends…" She trailed off, looking a little embarrassed.
"Oh, yeah, I loved it. I've read it front to back already. That was nice of you," Harry nodded, and her expression brightened. "I've got yours right here."
Harry was amused at the sight of the rather prim and reserved Hermione Granger ripping into her present with the same vigour that he'd seen from Ron.
"Harry this is wonderful, thank you!" Hermione beamed. In her hands was a book – surprise, surprise – on the most famous muggleborns in wizarding history. When Harry wrote to Flourish and Blotts, they'd written him back within the day. Because of who he was, they gave him access not only to their regular selection but also to their special catalogue that they weren't allowed to advertise. While Harry hated to rely on his fame, he conceded it was worth it when he saw the title on the list. He felt that way even more seeing the way his friend's face lit up as she read the blurb on the back.
"You're welcome," Harry smiled. "Sorry that I couldn't get it to you on Christmas. I wasn't expecting any presents. I've never gotten any before so I never really thought about them."
Harry shrugged casually and looked up for any sign of Ron. He didn't notice Hermione's stricken expression.
The two first years swapped stories about their holidays as they waited for the third member of their trio. Hermione told him about her aunt who had gotten drunk at Christmas dinner and started singing crass renditions of Christmas carols. Harry told her about the time the twins had trapped Ron inside a snowman. Harry mentioned his invisibility cloak, though he neglected to mention his nighttime excursions or mage sight. Eventually, Ron came down the stairs, and with a short greeting, dragged Harry and Hermione down to the Great Hall for food. As they made the trek to the hall, Harry managed to slow Ron down long enough to give him his Christmas present.
Ron thanked Harry profusely for the new cage for his rat, Scabbers. Harry told Ron that the cage was charmed against breaking, and was coloured bright orange for the Chudley Cannons, Ron's favourite Quidditch team.
The redhead promised to switch Scabbers into his new cage as soon as he returned to the dorms.
The first day back was brutal. All at once, the professors seemed to remember that exams existed. The first-year Gryffindors ended the day with essays for Potions, Charms, and Herbology due before the next lesson. Professor McGonagall also told her students of a quiz at the end of the week.
The tired first years trudged back to thecommon room, grumbling and cursing their professors. Harry saw Alicia, Angelina, and Katie sitting together and sharing a pack of sugar quills.
Harry split off from Ron and Hermione before sitting on the couch next to Alicia.
"Hey, Green Lightning," Alicia ruffled his hair. He swatted it away playfully and scrunched his nose at the nickname. "How was your break?"
"Quit calling me that," Harry whined. "My break was brilliant. Thanks for the presents by the way. I've got yours in my dorm."
"You got us presents?" Katie said with a look of excitement.
"Yeah, I ordered them on Christmas day. I didn't think anyone would get me presents so I didn't really think about it much," Harry shrugged. "Let me go get them, actually."
Harry ran upstairs and retrieved the packages, handing one to each girl. He'd given them each a pair of goggles just like his, with their names on the leather strap. Because none of the girls wore glasses, Harry had skipped out on the eyesight correction charm.
"Harry, are these the goggles we got you?" Alicia gave him a look of shock. "Harry, how much did these cost you? This is way too much!" Angelina and Katie nodded along, though their disapproval seemed much more reluctant.
"I didn't have to get prescription charms, so it was a lot cheaper. Plus, they gave me a discount when they found out who I was," Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and Angelina snorted. "I just thought – since Oliver said the four of us were supposed to work as a unit – we could have matching goggles. I can return them if you don't like them." Harry added, his heart sinking at the thought.
"No, no," Alicia shook her head frantically. "I love it, don't get me wrong. It's just – it's so expensive, are you sure it's alright for you to make purchases like these? Won't your guardians be angry?"
A shadow fell over Harry's face and his voice turned sharp. "Don't worry, they won't care. They don't even know I have any money," Harry sat down next to Alicia, not noticing the concerned look the older girls shared. "Don't worry about the money, I'll be fine. I just wanted to thank you for the gifts and for letting me play with you."
"Aww, that's sweet. Thanks, Harry," Harry felt Alicia's arms wrap around him and he stiffened involuntarily.
Whenever Aunt Petunia hugged Dudley, he would whine about her embarrassing him, or he'd kick her. Harry didn't think either of those reactions were appropriate here. So, he just sat still, enjoying the embrace without returning it.
"I really do love it," Alicia tried her goggles on. "I think I speak for all of us when I say we're going to beat Hufflepuff wearing these, and we'll look damn good doing it."
Katie cheered at Alicia's words, prompting a round of laughter.
"There's more, by the way." Harry pointed out, and the three girls looked back into the remains of the now-crumpled package. Alicia pulled out a golden pin of a broomstick. She gasped before happily pinning it to her bandanna. Harry received another hug for his efforts.
From her package, Katie pulled a silver cutting knife out of a leather sheath. It was engraved with her initials inside a little church bell.
"Is this for if anyone looks at Cedric the wrong way?" Angelina chuckled and Katie turned red.
"Mostly for potions ingredients, but that also works," Harry smirked, and Katie made a rude gesture.
"I could also use it to gut annoying teammates," Katie pointed the knife in Angelina's direction, and the girl put her hand on her heart in mock outrage.
"She really is a serial killer," Angelina wailed. "We're all going to die!"
Katie shook her head exasperatedly. "Thanks, Harry. I was going to ask Dad if I could get a new knife set during the summer, but I guess now I don't have to."
Angelina pulled out a book titled Three Hundred Passes Every Chaser Should Know.
"I thought it would be useful since you want to go pro," Harry said timidly.
Angelina beamed at him. "I love it. Thanks, Green Lightning."
Harry glared at her, earning a round of snickers from the girls.
"Three hundred passes?" Katie looked horrified. "Do not let Ollie see that."
At that moment the portrait opened, and Oliver walked in with the twins close behind him. Alicia snatched the book from Angelina and hastily stuffed it under her seat.
"If it isn't my favourite seeker," Oliver dropped onto the couch on Harry's other side. "How was break, Harry?"
"It was great," Harry said, returning the grin from his captain. "Also, aren't I your only seeker?"
"Technically, Katie is listed as your reserve," Oliver shrugged, and Harry looked at Katie in surprise.
"No one decent tried out for seeker, reserve or otherwise, so someone had to do it" the second year shrugged. "Though I do hope you don't get injured or something because I do not want to play seeker."
"Maybe I'll have to land myself in the hospital wing so I can watch you play," Harry teased.
Oliver paled. "Don't even joke about that, Harry. I can't lose my star player."
"Star player? What are the rest of us, chopped liver?" Alicia glared at Oliver.
"I meant star seeker," Oliver hastily corrected. Then he looked at the goggles in the chasers' laps. "What's that? New goggles?"
"Yeah, Harry got them for us for Christmas," Angelina grinned, putting hers on. "We're matching."
Harry handed the last three presents to his remaining teammates. "Happy Christmas. Sorry I'm late."
"Cool! Thanks, Harry," Oliver prodded the miniature Quidditch pitch Harry'd gotten him. The little dots that represented the players moved around with each tap. "Can't wait till I'm in class and need to note down a formation or something."
Katie glared at him. "You will not be using that thing in class, Oliver." He only rolled his eyes.
"Yes, mum," he deadpanned.
"Fred, George, you guys play cricket?" Parvati Patil was walking past them when Fred ripped open the wrapper on his large present, revealing a flat wooden bat. George opened his, to reveal an identical bat, though a bright red ball the size of his fist also fell out. Harry had seen Uncle Vernon watching a game on the telly once and thought it looked fun.
"What's cricket?"
"I just got them the bats and a ball, Parvati," Harry was surprised at his fellow first-year's excitement. "D'you play?"
"I'm Indian, Harry. Of course, I play," Parvati grinned at him. "If you ever decide on a pickup game, you've got to invite me."
"Yeah, sure," said Harry, and the girl walked off with another wistful glance at the twins' present.
"So, Harry, what's cricket?" Fred asked. George made a tentative swing, treating the cricket bat like it was a beater's bat. Oliver ducked under the arc of the swing and glared at the offending twin.
"It's a muggle sport. Someone throws a ball at you, and you hit it as far as you can with the bat," Harry explained, watching the twins' faces light up at the word 'muggle'.
"Muggle sport, eh? Dad'll love this," Fred held his bat in his hand awkwardly. "Am I holding it right? It's weirdly balanced."
"You're supposed to hold it so the end touches the ground."
"Ah."
The Gryffindor Quidditch team spent the rest of the evening joking around and trying out the various presents they had gotten each other. At one point, Fred threw his new cricket ball at Angelina. She then proceeded to pry George's cricket bat from his fingers and chase Fred around the common room. Harry watched in astonishment as they stopped running and started sword-fighting.
Harry's friends were all mental, but he wouldn't have it any other way.
This was the best winter holiday ever.
A/N: No Quidditch this time, sadly. There will be little to no Quidditch for the next three chapters, so I apologise in advance. Dynasty has gotten to the point where I can't conscionably call it a Quidditch fic anymore. It is still going to have a lot of Quidditch, and even the non-Quidditch plotlines are tied back to flying (like Harry's occlumency trigger being the sensation of flight). But as we go, there will be more plot, more characters, and eventually... more romance 0.0
And more Voldemort and violence but who cares about that stuff be fr