CHAPTER 53: THE WEIGHT OF ASSUMPTIONS
Babbling The early morning light filtered through the windows as Fleur departed, leaving Harry to navigate the corridors of Hogwarts alone. It was a strange sensation, walking to the Great Hall without the usual chatter and camaraderie of his Gryffindor companions. Instead, he found himself descending from the third floor, preparing for his first class of the new term.
As he turned into a corridor, a sudden squeak pierced the quiet, followed by the sensation of something soft colliding with his back, nearly knocking him off balance. Blinking in surprise, Harry turned to find Susan Bones flushed and breathless behind him. It was evident she had been rushing down the corridor and hadn't anticipated his sudden appearance in her path.
"Oof! Sorry about that!" Susan exclaimed, hastily pushing herself away from Harry. "I didn't see you coming—"
"It's alright," Harry reassured her, brushing himself off as he stood up.
"What are you doing here?" Susan inquired, curiosity flickering in her gaze.
"Headed for breakfast, actually," Harry replied with a small smile.
Susan raised an eyebrow inquisitively, prompting Harry to mentally brace himself for the inevitable interrogation. At least she was someone he knew, and they were alone. It would give him a taste of how others might react to his situation.
"I'm not staying at Gryffindor Tower," Harry explained, preempting her questions. "The Ministry thinks I'm a danger to other students because of my family magic—"
"Seriously?" Susan interrupted, her eyes widening in disbelief.
"And they're making you live elsewhere because of it?" Susan asked, her tone tinged with indignation. "I'll definitely talk to my aunt about this. Does...does Mr. Black know?"
Harry shook his head. "Not yet, and besides, it's not so bad," he replied, attempting to downplay the situation. "I have a private dorm all to myself. It's almost like being at home."
"But you shouldn't have to endure this," Susan protested. "It's not your fault that those people attacked you, or that your family magic behaves differently. This...this isn't fair!"
Harry offered her a small, understanding smile. "The only thing that's granted fairly to everyone is an unfair reality, Susan," he remarked philosophically, before turning to head towards the Great Hall. "Come on, we're running late for breakfast."
Susan looked like she wanted to argue further, but ultimately fell into step beside him. Together, they made their way to the Great Hall, which was already bustling with activity. Ron and Hermione were seated at the Gryffindor table, the latter engaged in what looked like a stern lecture to the twins while holding a rather peculiar object—a fleshy, tubular thing tied to a long strip of flesh that resembled someone's ear.
Harry's gaze drifted to the Slytherin table, where Tracey Davis nudged Daphne in his direction. He caught sight of Cho Chang shooting him death glares before his attention was drawn back to the Gryffindor table, where Neville and Ginny sat together, whispering fervently as they spotted him across the hall.
"Would you like to sit with me—uh, with us?" Susan offered tentatively.
Harry cocked his head, considering her proposal. "At the Hufflepuff table?" he clarified.
Susan nodded eagerly. "Yes."
Harry frowned, weighing the implications of Susan's invitation. "I don't think it's a good idea," he admitted reluctantly. "It's our first day back, and McGonagall will be handing out schedules. Maybe some other time?"
In truth, he was apprehensive about adding more complexity to his already convoluted situation. Ron and Hermione were undoubtedly waiting to interrogate him about his absence and the events on the train. Joining Susan at the Hufflepuff table would only fuel their curiosity, and likely invite unwanted attention from others, including Pansy Parkinson, who seemed to relish in stirring up trouble.
And then there were the looming figures of Fleur and Umbridge, both of whom spelled trouble in their own right.
As he exhaled, Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of homesickness wash over him—a familiar ache that had become all too frequent since leaving Privet Drive.
Suppressing his emotions, he met Susan's disappointed gaze with a tight-lipped smile. Her expression softened, and she quickly masked her disappointment with a quick smile.
"Sometime this week?" she suggested hopefully.
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Why not?" he agreed, trying to muster some enthusiasm.
"Great!" Susan exclaimed, suddenly lunging forward to embrace him in a quick hug. Harry was taken aback by the unexpected gesture, especially coming from Susan of all people. Before he could process his thoughts, she pulled away and flashed him a smile before returning to her friends at the Hufflepuff table.
Harry's gaze flicked to Daphne at the Slytherin table, noting the guarded expression on her face. Meanwhile, Hermione's initial shock had morphed into a sly grin, her hands resting on her hips as she observed the scene unfold with keen interest.
Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of relief as he observed Hermione's reaction—no anger, just a characteristic eye-roll.
But as he glanced towards Ron and Ginny, the apprehension returned with a vengeance. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and concern, and Harry braced himself for the barrage of questions he knew was coming.
Offering a silent prayer to any deity that might be listening, Harry made his way over to the Gryffindor table.
"Good morning, guys," he greeted them with a grin, his attempt at charm falling flat as he noticed Ron's furrowed brow and Ginny's wary expression. "And Hermione, can I just say you look absolutely wonderful this morning?" he added with a playful wink, hoping to lighten the mood.
Hermione rolled her eyes at his antics. "Sirius is a terrible influence on you," she remarked dryly.
Harry chuckled, giving her a one-armed hug. "Yeah, well, now I have you to set me right in the next several months," he quipped, trying to inject some levity into the tense atmosphere.
Hermione shook her head with a fond smile, her bushy hair bouncing around her head. Despite the uncertainty of the days ahead, Harry found solace in the familiar banter with his friends, a reminder of the bonds that anchored him amidst the storm.
Harry felt a knot tighten in his stomach as Ron's questions hit him like a punch to the gut. He exchanged a brief glance with Ginny, her expression guarded as she focused intently on her food, seemingly avoiding eye contact.
"Bonesy?" Harry echoed, trying to deflect the conversation away from his personal affairs.
Ron shrugged nonchalantly. "Ginny filled us in on what happened on the train," he explained, his tone tinged with concern. "I think you're getting in over your head, mate. She's a pretty bird, but Greengrass is a Slytherin."
Harry's jaw clenched at Ron's words, a surge of frustration bubbling within him. He was tired of everyone making assumptions about his choices, especially when they didn't have the full picture. Ginny's revelation about his absence from the dorm had only added fuel to the fire, and now he found himself under scrutiny from his closest friends.
"Hermione," Ron continued, breaking through Harry's thoughts. "Where was he last night?"
Harry's gaze flickered to Hermione, who was watching him expectantly, her expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. He could feel the weight of everyone's attention on him, and he knew he couldn't evade their questions forever.
Exhaling heavily, Harry made a snap decision. "You know what?" he muttered, pushing aside his half-eaten breakfast. "It's too early for this. Move over, I'm starving."
Ignoring Hermione's persistent attempts to draw him into conversation, Harry focused on devouring his food, offering only brief responses to Neville's inquiries about Hecate, his pet owl. When McGonagall approached to distribute schedules, Harry welcomed the distraction, grateful for the temporary reprieve from the probing questions of his friends.
As the conversation shifted to other topics, Ron's blunt remark about Voldemort caught Harry off guard. He expected Hermione to jump to his defense, but instead, she merely lowered her head in a somber nod, her silence speaking volumes.
"Lavender thinks so too," Ron added, his tone suggesting that Harry's predicament was a hot topic among their peers.
Harry finally turned his head to address Ron, his expression a mixture of irritation and resignation. "Oh? Is that what everyone was debating last night? Whether Harry Potter is a liar?"
Hermione's voice cut through the tension with a calm but pointed remark. "No," she stated firmly. "I told her to keep her big, fat mouth shut about you. You would have known if you had spent the night in the tower instead of chasing some Slytherin skirts."
Harry bristled at Hermione's accusation, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Right!" he exclaimed, addressing the group with a determined glare. "Listen up, all of you," he declared, casting a glance around the table. "I'm not going to repeat myself. It seems some of you decided to complain to the Ministry, claiming that I'm some kind of dangerous nutcase because of what happened in the Third Task. As a result, the Board of Governors and the Ministry made Dumbledore move me from the Gryffindor tower to a private room, so you lot can sleep better at night without fearing that I'll suck your magic out of you. There, asked and answered."
He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over his peers. "And in case any of you doubt me, go ask Professor McGonagall. She'll confirm it for you."
As if on cue, McGonagall's voice rang out from behind them, causing Harry to curse under his breath. "Tell them what?" she inquired, her stern gaze fixed on him.
Harry hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt for dragging McGonagall into the situation. "Erm, Professor McGonagall, I was just—"
"Mr. Potter is correct," McGonagall interjected, her tone brisk. "Aside from the Ministry directives, Mr. Potter is also a registered Warlock. For both reasons, Professor Dumbledore has arranged for private dormitory facilities for Mr. Potter for the foreseeable future."
Ron's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "So Harry won't be in Gryffindor?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. "What about Quidditch?"
Minerva McGonagall's response to Ron was swift and stern, her words carrying a hint of disappointment. "I would have expected Mr. Potter to hold more significance to you than simply being the Gryffindor seeker, Mr. Weasley," she chided, her gaze piercing. "And as for your question, no, Mr. Potter remains a Gryffindor. He will simply reside in separate quarters from now on."
Ron's expression shifted to one of contrition under McGonagall's reproachful gaze, realizing the error in his assumption.
Satisfied with the group's silence, McGonagall turned her attention back to Harry. "Here is your schedule, Potter," she announced, handing him a piece of parchment. "And let me remind you, Professor Babbling has requested your presence with the fifth-years today."
Harry nodded in acknowledgment as McGonagall departed to attend to the lower years.
"Harry," Hermione inquired, her brow furrowed in curiosity, "what does Professor Babbling want from you?"
"I made some changes to my classes," Harry explained. "I dropped Divination and picked up Arithmancy instead. Sirius taught me a bit over the summer, so I think I can handle the third-year material. If all goes well, I'll join the fourth-years for that class. As for Babbling... Well, I'm not entirely sure. But it might have something to do with Fleur."
"But Harry," Hermione interjected, her voice tinged with concern, "you need at least two electives for OWLs."
"Not me," Harry clarified in response to Hermione's question about dropping Divination.
Hermione narrowed her eyes, clearly sensing there was more to his decision. "Is this because of that...Warlock thing?" she pressed.
Harry nodded. "That and more," he admitted. "In fact, I might even skip a couple of classes. I've got permission from Dumbledore."
"But Harry, you can't leave me all alone in Divination," Ron protested, his voice tinged with outrage.
Harry shrugged, feeling a pang of guilt at Ron's distress. "It's just a fraudulent subject, and honestly, I've got a lot on my plate. But don't worry, I'll still be with you in Magical Creatures."
"But Harry—" Ron began, only to be cut off by Harry's firm tone.
"Ron," Harry interjected, his voice carrying a note of urgency. "He. Is. Back. Do you understand what that means? For me?"
Ron's initial protest faltered as he processed Harry's words, his expression shifting from indignation to realization.
"Things are not going to be the same," Harry continued, his tone somber. "I am not who I once was. And we cannot go back to the school life we had over the past four years."
Ron looked as if he wanted to argue further, but Hermione intervened, gripping his shoulder and shaking her head in silent warning. Harry sighed inwardly, knowing that his friends would need time to come to terms with the new reality they faced.
Ron's admission brought a sense of relief to Harry, even if his friend still seemed somewhat bewildered by the situation. "I appreciate that, mate," Harry replied with a small smile, grateful for Ron's attempt to understand.
"Great," Harry chirped, eager to move past the heavy conversation. "Now, mind passing me that treacle tart? It looks delicious."
As Ron handed over the dessert, Harry focused on the sweet treat, momentarily distracted from the weight of their discussion.
"Alright," Bathsheda Babbling began, addressing the class with her usual no-nonsense demeanor. "Who can tell me why the Hecate's Principles aren't used in standardized spell creation? Yes, Mr. Entwhistle?"
Kevin Entwhistle's expression shifted from confusion to panic as all eyes turned to him. "Uh... it cannot be used to solve Futhark Matrices on which modern spellcraft is based?" he ventured tentatively.
Babbling's deadpan response cut through the silence. "That's really impressive," she remarked dryly. "I mean, that's really good. I'm impressed, especially since the subject of this class is Solving Futhark Matrices."
Harry couldn't help but sigh despondently as he observed the scene unfold. It seemed that the challenges of Ancient Runes were more daunting than he had anticipated. Perhaps Sirius had exaggerated how difficult it would be to catch up. Then again, he reminded himself, not everyone had the same advantages he did.
It was an unfair thought, Harry acknowledged, recognizing the privilege he had in being ahead of his classmates. Despite his frustration, he couldn't discount the efforts of his peers who were grappling with the subject without the same headstart.
Sometime during the second week of August, Sirius had taken Harry to a magical shop near Wales, where he underwent an administration of a highly expensive runecraft "memory potion." Contrary to its name, the potion didn't instantly make him a master of the subject, but rather imparted to him a detailed understanding of the Elder Futhark rune script. It provided him with enough knowledge to delve into the applications of advanced Arithmancy using the Futhark alphabet. However, the term "memory potion" was a misnomer; it was actually a specialized dose of the Draught of Living Death. This potion induced a state akin to death while temporarily activating the so-called Third Eye, enhancing one's perception, awareness, and spiritual communication. Following this, Harry underwent a Kabbalistic thaumaturgical procedure based on the concept of "receiving." This ancient method allowed mystics to comprehend the secrets of the universe by receiving them from Ein Sol, their personification of the all-seeing, eternal God. The influx of information during this process was immense and could potentially cause major health issues such as aneurysms and cardiac arrests, which was why the Draught was administered beforehand.
Was it illegal? Mildly. Was it foolhardy? Definitely.
"Now someone, somebody, tell me something I don't already know," Babbling challenged the class.
Harry, feeling more confident in his newfound knowledge, raised his hand.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Babbling inquired, surprised at his participation.
"Because Hecate is also regarded as the Goddess of boundaries," Harry explained with a smile, his thoughts momentarily drifting to the other Hecate sleeping in his trunk. He made a mental note to address that situation soon. "Her principles revolve around allowing the Abstract to flow into the Real, whereas modern spellcraft focuses on keeping the Abstract separated from the Real."
Babbling's smile widened in approval. "Exactly."
Was it convenient? Extremely.
As the class dragged on, Harry couldn't help but sympathize with Hermione's occasional absences from Runes class. It became apparent that anyone who could afford the memory potion or had the natural talent to grasp the material quickly had little reason to remain in the classroom. Instead, they were granted permission to work on private projects, which would be assessed during examinations. Consequently, neither Hermione nor Daphne was present in the class, leaving behind a group of struggling students trying to keep up.
"Mr. Potter," Babbling's voice broke through Harry's thoughts, drawing his attention. "Please stay behind after class."
Harry nodded, resigning himself to the inevitable confrontation. As the class wound down, students began to trickle out one by one. Parkinson shot him a hateful glance on her way out, but Harry brushed it off with practiced indifference. Compared to the challenges he faced, Pansy's petty mind games seemed inconsequential.
Once they were alone, Babbling addressed him directly. "I've noticed you didn't pay attention during class."
It was a lie, and they both knew it. Harry had paid attention, at least for the first ten minutes of the lecture, before realizing that the subject matter didn't hold his interest.
"Professor, it's just that—" Harry started, searching for the right words.
"You took the potion," Babbling stated bluntly.
Harry hesitated before confirming, "...Yeah."
Harry felt a pang of unease as Babbling raised her wand, his instincts screaming at him to reach for his own wand and defend himself. However, he managed to suppress the impulse, reminding himself that Babbling had never posed a threat to him during his time at Hogwarts.
He watched intently as Babbling performed a series of wand movements, sealing the classroom door with a complex warding scheme. It wasn't a spell she cast but rather a password-like combination that activated the protective wards, ensuring their privacy.
"A combination of Colloportus and Repello charms, embedded in a temporary ward scheme," she explained, her tone matter-of-fact. "My classroom is my playground, Mr. Potter. I enjoy experimenting with new and sometimes unstable ward schemes."
Harry couldn't help but wonder if Fred and George had ever taken Runes classes.
Turning to face him, Babbling frowned. "You must be wondering why I asked you to attend this class."
Harry nodded, though he had a vague idea of the reason.
"When Miss Delacour approached me with her project, I was surprised," Babbling continued. "The ward she designed was already impressive enough to be submitted as a thesis for her wardmastery. However, she seemed more interested in pursuing another project, one involving a type of magic unlike any other. Frankly, I'm still skeptical about it, which is why..." She met his gaze squarely. "I'd like you to demonstrate it for me."
"Demonstrate?" Harry echoed, feeling a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. He wasn't entirely sure what Babbling was asking of him.
"Mr. Potter," said Babbling, her tone serious, "I'm well aware of your status as a Warlock, as well as its implications. Professor Vector informed me that you've signed up for her fourth-year class. What exactly are you after? Are you aiming for wardmastery like Miss Delacour? Or perhaps a career as an Unspeakable?"
Harry's breath caught in his throat at the mention of Unspeakables. "I... I'm not entirely certain, Professor. My abilities are... unconventional, to say the least. Hogwarts' curriculum doesn't quite cover it. In fact, I'm not even sure if it qualifies as magic."
"What do you call it?" Babbling inquired.
Harry hesitated for a moment before answering. "Death."
Babbling's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Death?"
"Yes," Harry confirmed.
"And what does it do?" she pressed further.
"It... breaks enchantments," Harry explained.
Babbling considered his words for a moment before suggesting, "Care for a demonstration?"
Harry hesitated. He wasn't entirely sure how his abilities would interact with the spells woven into the classroom. But Babbling seemed determined to find out.
"We won't know until we try," she added.
Harry nodded reluctantly. "Fine."
With a flick of his wrist, his wand came spinning into his palm. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and reached inside himself. The familiar power he had always drawn upon was there, but it wasn't what he needed. Instead, he delved deeper, tapping into something darker, colder, and more primal. It surged inside him, eager to be unleashed.
Harry gave it an exit.
A translucent grey energy sprang forth from Harry's wand, traversing the distance between himself and the door in the blink of an eye. Upon contact, there was no explosion, no flash of light. Instead, the glow surrounding the door simply faded away, leaving behind an ordinary wooden surface.
But then cracks began to form in the middle of the door.
Harry cursed inwardly. Despite all his practice, he still struggled to control his abilities. He had intended only to break the enchantment, not to strip away all magic from the door in the process.
Babbling stared in astonishment.
"That..." She struggled to find the right words, "wasn't quite what you call breaking enchantments, Potter."
Harry scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I may have overdone it. I'm still learning how to control it, honestly."
"But..." Babbling paused, swallowing hard, "what you did wasn't just breaking or nullifying the enchantment. It wasn't magical disintegration either. The magic simply vanished. That... isn't normal."
Harry couldn't help but smirk slightly. Babbling was correct. Undoing, nullifying, or disintegrating magic typically resulted in either converting the magical energy into something harmless or dispersing it into an ethereal form. But Death operated differently. It didn't just neutralize magic; it removed it entirely from existence.
"Magic... is a force, a phenomenon," Babbling began, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "It's not quite like the elements, but it's intrinsic to our world nonetheless."
"Exactly," Harry said, nodding. "But what if there existed something that wasn't magic, but the absence of it? Something that existed outside the realm of magic, yet had the power to nullify it completely?"
Babbling frowned, clearly struggling to grasp the concept. "But that would defy the very laws of magic itself. Magic cannot simply be erased or nullified in such a manner."
"Ah, but that's where Death comes in," Harry explained. "It's not magic, nor is it anti-magic. It's... something else entirely. It doesn't nullify or dispel magic; it simply removes it from existence. Like erasing a line from a parchment, leaving no trace behind."
Babbling's eyes widened in understanding, though she still seemed skeptical. "But how is that possible? And why have I never heard of such a thing before?"
Harry shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. But I've experienced it firsthand, and I can assure you, it's very real."
Babbling remained silent for a moment, deep in thought. "This... is unprecedented, Mr. Potter. I'll need to conduct further research on this matter. In the meantime, I advise caution in using... whatever this power is."
Harry nodded solemnly. "Believe me, Professor, I intend to."
With that, Babbling dismissed him from the classroom, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts and the weight of his newfound abilities pressing heavily on his shoulders.
Babbling nodded slowly, still visibly shaken by the implications of Harry's words. "I... I see," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harry studied her for a moment, noting the conflict etched on her face. He realized that he had opened her eyes to a truth that challenged the very foundation of her beliefs. It was a heavy burden to bear, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.
"Professor, I understand if this is difficult for you to accept," Harry said gently. "But I assure you, I'm not here to disrupt the natural order of things. I'm simply trying to understand my abilities and how they fit into this world."
Babbling looked up at him, her expression a mix of uncertainty and curiosity. "I appreciate your candor, Mr. Potter. And while I may not fully comprehend the implications of what you've revealed, I trust that you have good intentions."
Harry nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Professor. I'll do my best to use my abilities responsibly."
With a final nod, Harry turned and made his way out of the Ancient Runes classroom, leaving Babbling to grapple with the newfound knowledge he had imparted to her. As he walked through the empty corridors of Hogwarts, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had just crossed a threshold into a deeper understanding of the world around him. And with that understanding came a sense of responsibility unlike anything he had ever known before.
Harry hesitated, the word "necromancy" hanging heavy in the air. It carried connotations of dark magic, manipulation of the dead, and unspeakable acts. But he couldn't deny the truth of Babbling's statement.
"In a way, yes," he finally admitted. "But not in the sense of raising the dead or controlling spirits. More like... using the natural order of things to influence the world around us."
Babbling nodded thoughtfully. "It's an intriguing concept, Mr. Potter. Unconventional, to say the least, but fascinating nonetheless."
Harry felt a surge of relief at her response. He had been prepared for skepticism or even outright rejection, but Babbling seemed genuinely interested in his ideas.
"I'm still in the early stages of exploring this idea," he continued. "But I believe that understanding the fundamental principles of magic, including runecraft, will be crucial to developing spells that harness this power responsibly."
Babbling smiled faintly. "I admire your dedication, Mr. Potter. And while I may not fully comprehend the extent of your abilities, I trust that you will approach your studies with the seriousness they deserve."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said sincerely. "I appreciate your support."
With that, he bid farewell to Babbling and left the Ancient Runes classroom, feeling a newfound sense of purpose and determination. He may not have all the answers yet, but he was determined to continue exploring the depths of his abilities and uncovering the mysteries of magic. And with teachers like Bathsheda Babbling supporting him, he knew he wouldn't have to face those challenges alone.
"I understand, Professor," Harry said diplomatically, though internally he couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration at being referred to as a "conundrum." He had grown accustomed to being viewed as an enigma, but it still grated on him at times.
Babbling sighed, her expression softening. "I don't mean to belittle your efforts, Mr. Potter. It's just that your situation is... unprecedented, to say the least. You're treading into uncharted territory, and it's natural for there to be uncertainty and skepticism."
Harry nodded in understanding. "I appreciate your honesty, Professor. And your willingness to entertain my ideas, despite the risks involved."
Babbling gave him a small smile. "It's my duty as a teacher to support my students, especially when they show initiative and creativity. Just... be careful, Mr. Potter. Magic, or whatever you want to call it, can be a double-edged sword. It's important to proceed with caution."
"I will, Professor," Harry assured her. "Thank you for your guidance."
With that, Harry bid farewell to Babbling and left the Ancient Runes classroom, feeling a mixture of determination and uncertainty swirling inside him. He knew that his path forward would be fraught with challenges and obstacles, but he was determined to press on, driven by a desire to unlock the mysteries of his own abilities and harness them for good. And with the support of teachers like Bathsheda Babbling, he felt confident that he could overcome whatever challenges lay ahead.
Harry listened to Babbling's musings with a mixture of awe and trepidation. The idea of collaborating with such skilled and knowledgeable witches was both exhilarating and daunting. The potential for discovery and innovation was immense, but so too were the risks and uncertainties.
"Professor, I'm honored by your confidence in me," Harry said earnestly. "And I'm eager to learn from you and Professor Vector. But I want to make sure I'm not causing any trouble or putting anyone in danger."
Babbling looked up, her eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and weariness. "Mr. Potter, the pursuit of knowledge always involves some degree of risk. But it's through facing those risks and challenges that we grow and discover new possibilities. Your abilities may be unconventional, but they also offer unique opportunities for advancement and understanding. So let's approach this with caution, but also with enthusiasm and determination."
Harry nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination and purpose. He was ready to embark on this journey of discovery, armed with the guidance and support of his mentors.
"Thank you, Professor," he said sincerely. "I'm ready to learn whatever you and Professor Vector have to teach me."
Babbling smiled warmly. "Very well, Mr. Potter. Let's get started."
Daphne's teasing tone brought a small smile to Harry's face. "Oh, absolutely," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm just overflowing with charm."
Daphne chuckled, pushing herself off the wall and falling into step beside him as they began to walk down the corridor. "So, what was all that about? You and Babbling locked in her classroom like that?"
Harry shrugged, trying to downplay the significance of the conversation. "Just a discussion about some… unconventional magic stuff."
"Unconventional magic stuff, huh?" Daphne raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Sounds mysterious. Care to share any details?"
Harry hesitated, unsure how much he should reveal. "Not much to share, really. Just some ideas about… alternative approaches to magic."
Daphne nodded, accepting his vague answer. "Well, whatever it was, it seems like you made quite an impression on Professor Babbling. She hardly ever offers private instruction to students."
Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at the thought. "Yeah, I guess so."
Daphne smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, Potter, it seems like you're full of surprises."
Harry grinned back at her. "You have no idea."
As they continued walking, Harry's mind buzzed with thoughts about his conversation with Professor Babbling. The prospect of private instruction in both Arithmancy and Runes was exciting, but it also meant he would need to dedicate even more time to studying and practicing.
"So," Daphne began, breaking the silence, "have any plans for the rest of the day?"
Harry shook his head, grateful for the distraction from his thoughts. "Not really. Probably just some more studying."
Daphne chuckled. "Sounds thrilling."
Harry shrugged, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Hey, it's all part of the glamorous life of a Hogwarts student, right?"
Daphne laughed, the sound lightening the mood. "Absolutely. Well, if you're looking for a change of scenery, you're welcome to join me and a few friends for a walk around the lake later. We're planning to enjoy the nice weather while it lasts."
Harry considered the invitation. A walk by the lake sounded like a pleasant way to unwind after a day of classes and studying. "That sounds nice. I might take you up on that."
Daphne smiled. "Great! We'll be meeting near the entrance hall around four o'clock. Hope to see you there."
As they reached a junction in the corridor, Daphne bid Harry farewell and headed off in the direction of the Slytherin common room. Harry watched her go, feeling a sense of gratitude for her friendship and the distraction she provided.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Harry set off for the library, ready to dive back into his studies and prepare for whatever challenges lay ahead.
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