Harry entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ron waving at him. He quickly sat down beside him, but before they could exchange a single word, Moody, who had been standing on the platform at the front of the class, spoke up.
¡°Right, then. All here, are we? Name¡¯s Moody. Defense Against the Dark Arts¡ªwhat a laugh , as if defense will do you much good when you¡¯re caught in the thick of it, eh?¡± He barked a short, humorless laugh. ¡°We¡¯ll call this ¡®how not to die,¡¯ shall we?¡±
Moody took two steps to the left, his wooden leg thudding against the floor with a dull echo, then turned back to face them. His magical eye whirred and spun, darting from student to student, as if it could see right through them.
¡°¡°I¡¯ve been mulling it over,¡± he began ¡°How to break this to you lot. You¡¯re kids, sure, but what¡¯s out there? It doesn¡¯t care how young or clever you are. Defense Against the Dark Arts isn¡¯t waving a wand and saying a few words. No, it¡¯s surviving. Surviving when someone out there wants nothing more than to see you gone¡ªand trust me, they will.¡±¡±
Moody reached down and pulled a wooden box from under the desk, placing it in full view of the class. He flipped the lid open, and a collective gasp followed as a large, hairy spider scuttled out, its legs twitching nervously.
¡°Right then,¡± Moody growled. ¡°The Imperius Curse. Watch closely.¡±
¡°Imperio¡±
With a flick of his wand, the spider leapt into the air and began a grotesque dance. It twisted and flipped, performing acrobatics that grew more erratic by the second. Some students giggled nervously, but others looked pale. Moody¡¯s magical eye didn¡¯t leave the spider as it twirled.
¡°The Imperius Curse¡ªah, nasty bit of work. Like a puppet on strings, you¡¯ll be. Won¡¯t even realize your hands are doing the Devil¡¯s work till it¡¯s too late. Walk off a cliff? That¡¯s child¡¯s play. How about betraying your lot while humming a jaunty tune, eh? That¡¯s what it can do.¡±
Moody broke off the Imperius Curse and surveyed the classroom. Most of the students looked shocked, their eyes wide and fixed on the now-motionless spider. A few, however, seemed indifferent¡ªbored, even¡ªlike Draco Malfoy, who leaned back in his chair with an air of feigned disinterest.
¡°That,¡± Moody said, ¡°was the first of the three Unforgivable Curses. Use any one of them, and it¡¯s a one-way trip to Azkaban for life. For this lesson, I¡¯ve been given special permission.¡±
He raised his wand again, pointing it at the spider.
¡°Crucio¡±
The spider erupted into violent spasms, its body curling and twisting unnaturally. The class collectively recoiled, a few students letting out involuntary gasps. But not Harry.
Harry stared, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. He wanted to see. He needed to see. It wasn¡¯t just the sight of it¡ªit was the way its body betrayed it, locked in a war against itself.
How to counter it?
¡°The Cruciatus Curse. Pain so raw it¡¯ll strip you to nothing. No shield blocks it, no charm softens it¡ªonce it hits, it owns you. And to cast it? You¡¯ve got to mean it¡ªreally want the suffering. That¡¯s the darkest kind of magic there is.¡±
Harry glanced at Moody. For a fraction of a second, he thought he caught something in the man¡¯s expression. It was so quick Harry wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d imagined it.
No way an Auror, someone meant to fight the Dark Arts, would actually look pleased casting the Cruciatus Curse. Not on anything¡ªnot even a spider. Right?
Weird.
¡°And now,¡± Moody said, slicing through Harry¡¯s spiraling thoughts, ¡°we come to the last curse¡ªthe Killing Curse.¡±
Moody pointed his wand at the spider once more, and for a fleeting moment, the classroom seemed to hold its collective breath.
¡°Avada Kedavra¡±
A blinding green light erupted from the tip of his wand, illuminating the dim classroom. The spider froze mid-movement, then fell limp onto the desk.
¡°That is the Killing Curse. There¡¯s no counter-curse. No shield. Nothing can stop it.¡±
The students remained motionless, many unable to tear their eyes from the spider¡¯s lifeless form. Dean Thomas let out a shaky breath, his fingers clutching the edge of his desk. Beside him, Parvati Patil had her hands pressed to her mouth, her wide eyes fixed on the spot where the spider had fallen.
¡°You think the Dark Arts are just nasty little tricks? Curses you can laugh at, like a tickling charm gone wrong?¡± He raised a single, gnarled finger, gesturing for attention.
¡°The Dark Arts are designed to do one thing¡ªkill, maim, destroy. You lot need to understand that before you can hope to defend yourselves.¡±
Harry glanced at Ron, whose freckles stood out starkly against his pale face. He gave his head a little shake and leaned toward Harry.
¡°That was mad,¡± he whispered, ¡°Completely mad.¡±
Harry nodded absently, but his attention drifted across the room. Daphne Greengrass sat rigid in her seat, her usual composed expression nowhere to be seen. Her face was pale, her lips pressed tightly together. Her hands, clasped on the desk, gave her away¡ªthey were trembling slightly.
¡°Lesson¡¯s over,¡± Moody barked, snapping the wooden box shut and picking it up. ¡°Homework: Write me a foot on why understanding these curses is crucial for survival. Due next class.¡±
The class erupted into a low buzz of murmurs as the students began packing their things, some moving with an almost mechanical stiffness.
Harry watched as Daphne Greengrass hurriedly left the classroom. He frowned, looking at Ron and Hermione.
¡°Hermione,¡± Harry said quietly, leaning in, ¡°can you check on Neville? After¡ that, I think he might need someone.¡±
Hermione followed Harry¡¯s eyes to where Neville sat, his head bowed and his hands trembling as he packed his bag.
She nodded immediately. ¡°Of course.¡±
Ron hesitated for a moment but followed Hermione toward Neville¡¯s desk, glancing over his shoulder at Harry.
Once they were gone, Harry pulled out the Marauder¡¯s Map from his bag. He tapped it with his wand, muttering, ¡°I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.¡± Ink spread across the parchment, forming the familiar layout of Hogwarts. His eyes scanned the map until he found her name: Daphne Greengrass.
She wasn¡¯t heading toward the common rooms or the Great Hall. Instead, her dot wandered aimlessly before stopping in one of the unused classrooms on the third floor.
Harry folded the map and tucked it back into his bag. Without a word, he slipped out of the Defense classroom and headed in that direction.
He didn¡¯t knock when he reached the door. He pushed it open.
Daphne spun around, her wand raised. ¡°Potter!¡± she said, the word bursting out like she wanted to throw it at him. But whatever fire was behind it fizzled fast. She stared at him for a moment, then lowered her hand, slipping the wand into her pocket. Her shoulders dipped, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter, almost unsure. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±
Harry didn¡¯t answer. He stepped closer, his eyes catching the tearstains on her cheeks. She wasn¡¯t trying to hide them, not really. Her makeup was still mostly intact, but the redness in her eyes gave her away. He let out a soft sigh and reached into his bag.
¡°I think I¡¯ve become way too observant for my liking,¡± he said, pulling out a crumpled tissue.
Daphne looked at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she took the tissue from his hand, her fingers brushing his as she murmured, ¡°Thank you.¡±
She turned slightly, blotting her cheeks with the tissue, careful, deliberate, like she didn¡¯t want to ruin the work she¡¯d put into looking perfect. Harry didn¡¯t say anything. He stood there for a moment, watching her before his eyes drifted to the door, the walls, the floor.
Daphne finished wiping her cheeks, folding the tissue neatly before glancing up at Harry. He felt her eyes on him, and for some reason, it made him acutely aware of their height difference. He straightened slightly, realizing just how much taller he was. Was he always this much taller? Or had she always been this small?
And now, with her usual mask gone, she looked¡ different. Not in a bad way. Just different. Like the girl he¡¯d seen in the hospital wing¡ªthe one beneath all the composure. She was beautiful.
No, Potter, he scolded himself. Definitely not the thing to say right now.
¡°Feels like you want to ask me something,¡± Harry said finally, breaking the silence. ¡°Something about Tracey.¡±
Daphne stiffened slightly. She hesitated, her eyes darting to the floor for a moment before nodding. ¡°I¡ yes,¡± she admitted quietly.
Harry waited, watching her, and eventually, she continued, her words coming slower, as though she was deciding whether to say them at all.
¡°It¡¯s my fault,¡± she said, her voice trembling. ¡°Tracey was only there because of me. We went to the match together. We¡¯re both Quidditch fans, but¡ we had this stupid fight. Over nothing. She stormed off, into the forest, and if I¡¯d¡ªif I¡¯d just¡¡±
She blinked rapidly, trying to hold it together, but when she looked at Harry again, the tears spilled over.
¡°If I¡¯d been smarter, if I¡¯d gone after her, none of this would¡¯ve happened. She¡¯d be here, not¡ not like that. It¡¯s my fault. All of it. She¡¯s like this because of me.¡±
Her voice broke completely as she finished, and the room filled with the sound of her quiet sobs.
He just reached into his bag and pulled out another tissue, handing it to her. She took it, her fingers trembling.
He stared at her, unsure of what to say. Daphne Greengrass, who always seemed like she had everything under control, was falling apart in front of him
The Cruciatus Curse. Seeing it in class had dragged Daphne right back to that moment. She was reliving it¡ªover and over again. And they were just kids. For Merlin¡¯s sake, where was the adult to help them through this?
Right. An adult. Snape. Their supposed guardian. Leave her with Snape? That¡¯d go well. Harry almost laughed bitterly at the thought.
He took a step forward, slowly, carefully, letting her see what he was about to do. When she didn¡¯t pull away, he gently wrapped his arms around her, a tentative hug.
Daphne tensed at first, startled, but as his hand rested lightly on her back, moving in small, soothing strokes, she softened. Her sobs quieted, fading into uneven breaths.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Daphne¡¯s hands hung limply at her sides before she hesitantly brought them up, her fingers clutching the fabric of his robes.
When she finally looked up, her tears had stopped, but her eyes were still wet, wide, and filled with something Harry couldn¡¯t quite place.
A few moments passed, the silence stretching between them. Then Harry gently stepped back, giving Daphne some space. He offered her a small, almost shy smile.
¡°Come on,¡± he said, his tone light. ¡°Lunch. You could probably use it.¡±
Daphne blinked at him, still standing there like she wasn¡¯t sure what to do. But after a pause, she nodded. ¡°Alright.¡±
They left the classroom together. The corridor was quiet as they walked, and for a while, neither of them said anything. It wasn¡¯t uncomfortable, though¡ªjust a sort of unspoken truce.
¡°So,¡± Harry said eventually, breaking the silence. ¡°You¡¯re a Quidditch fan?¡±
Daphne glanced at him, her brows lifting slightly. ¡°You sound surprised.¡±
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
¡°Well, yeah,¡± Harry admitted. ¡°Didn¡¯t peg you for the type. No offense.¡±
Daphne rolled her eyes, though there was a faint twitch of amusement at the corner of her lips. ¡°What, because I¡¯m Slytherin? Or because I don¡¯t yell my lungs out at matches?¡±
¡°Bit of both,¡± Harry said, grinning now.
Daphne let out a soft huff of a laugh. ¡°I like the strategy. The plays. Not everything has to be about yelling.¡±
They continued like that, their conversation light and polite. Harry found himself relaxing as they walked, surprised by how normal it felt. By the time they reached the Great Hall, the noise and bustle of students filled the air, and Harry felt the shift back to reality.
Daphne slowed, glancing toward the Slytherin table. She hesitated for just a moment before turning to Harry. ¡°Thanks,¡± she said softly. ¡°For earlier.¡±
Harry nodded, offering her another small smile. ¡°Anytime.¡±
She gave him a brief, almost imperceptible nod, then turned and walked away, heading for her table. Harry stood there for a moment, watching her go, before turning back toward the Gryffindor table.
Harry slid onto the bench beside Ron and Hermione, reaching for a plate. ¡°How¡¯s Neville?¡± he asked quietly, keeping his voice low so no one else could hear.
¡°He¡¯s okay,¡± Hermione said. ¡°Shaken, obviously, but we talked to him for a bit. Made sure he knew he didn¡¯t have to do the homework if it was too much.¡±
¡°Good,¡± Harry said, nodding. He picked up a serving spoon and began piling minced meat, rice, and vegetables onto his plate.
Hermione gave him a pointed look, her lips quirking up into a knowing smile. ¡°And what about you?¡±
¡°What about me?¡± Harry asked, rolling his eyes.
¡°You disappeared after class,¡± she said, leaning closer. ¡°And now you¡¯re acting all¡ thoughtful.¡±
Ron, mid-mouthful of bread, raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet.
Harry sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. ¡°I followed Daphne.¡± he admitted
Hermione¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°What? Why?¡±
¡°She left the class upset,¡± Harry said, shrugging. ¡°I just¡ wanted to make sure she was okay.¡±
¡°And?¡± Ron asked, finally swallowing his bite.
Harry leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°She was a mess. She¡¯s blaming herself for what happened to Tracey. Completely fell apart.¡±
Hermione frowned, her expression softening. ¡°Poor girl. That¡¯s awful.¡±
Harry nodded, his fork poking idly at his food. ¡°Yeah. I told her I¡¯d help if I could. Don¡¯t know how yet, but¡ it just felt like the right thing to do.¡±
Hermione smiled again, but this time it was softer, more understanding. ¡°That¡¯s very kind of you, Harry.¡±
Ron glanced between them and muttered, ¡°Not sure I get it, but good on you, mate.¡±
Harry rolled his eyes again but couldn¡¯t help the small smile tugging at his lips as he dug into his food.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The library was quiet except for the faint sounds of quills scratching against parchment and the rustle of pages being turned. Harry sat hunched over his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework, his notes spread out in front of him. Ron slouched in his chair beside him, barely pretending to read a Potions textbook, while Hermione was entirely absorbed in cross-referencing brewing techniques from three different tomes stacked around her.
Harry tapped his quill against his parchment, rereading the last line he¡¯d written.
¡°But survival comes with a cost. To fight the Dark Arts, you have to understand them¡ªknow how they work, what they do, and why. That knowledge changes you. It forces you to see the world differently. To think like the enemy. And once you start thinking that way, it¡¯s hard to stop.¡±
He tapped his quill against the table absently, Moody¡¯s words looping in his mind. ¡°And to cast it? You¡¯ve got to mean it¡ªreally want the suffering. That¡¯s the darkest kind of magic there is.¡±
Harry added a new line beneath the others, his handwriting slower now as he thought.
¡°To cast something like the Cruciatus Curse, you have to summon hatred¡ªpure, focused hatred. That kind of emotion doesn¡¯t just appear. It has to come from somewhere. Pain. Fear. Anger. A person doesn¡¯t start off like that. So what happens to them? What do they go through to make hatred so powerful that it fuels magic like that?¡±
He paused, frowning at the words. What kind of life created someone like the man who tortured Tracey Davis in the forest?
Harry¡¯s quill moved again.
¡°Maybe the real danger isn¡¯t just the magic itself. It¡¯s what it takes to cast it. Hatred that strong consumes you. It warps the way you see the world, turning everyone into an enemy, every moment into a fight. When you carry that much darkness inside, it doesn¡¯t leave room for anything else. No kindness. No love. Just the curse and the will to use it.¡±
Sirius had been right. Moody had been right. To fight the Dark Arts, you had to walk the edge of a very thin line. One wrong step, and you didn¡¯t just lose the fight¡ªyou lost yourself.
Ron, who had been absently flipping through a Potions book, let out a low whistle. ¡°Blimey, Harry, you look like you¡¯re writing a manifesto, not homework.¡±
Harry glanced up, startled. ¡°What?¡±
Ron nodded toward Harry¡¯s parchment. ¡°Seriously, mate, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen anyone take Defense so seriously.¡±
¡°Maybe we should,¡± Harry said, his tone sharper than he intended.
Ron blinked, taken aback. ¡°Alright, alright. Didn¡¯t mean anything by it.¡±
Hermione set her quill down, looking at Harry carefully. ¡°He¡¯s not wrong, though, Harry. You¡¯re¡ thinking about this a lot.¡±
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°I just¡ªMoody said something in class. About how you have to really mean it to cast the Cruciatus Curse. You have to want someone to suffer. And I keep thinking¡ªhow does someone get to that point? How do you carry that much hate inside you?¡±
Hermione nodded slowly. ¡°It¡¯s not just hate, though, is it? It¡¯s pain, too. People who do terrible things often have terrible things done to them.¡±
Ron shifted in his seat, fiddling with the edge of his parchment. ¡°You¡¯re overthinking it, Harry,¡± he said. ¡°Some people are just¡ like that. They enjoy hurting others because it makes them feel big. Strong. Like they¡¯re in charge.¡±
Harry frowned, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Yeah, but why? No one¡¯s born wanting to hurt people. There¡¯s got to be a reason.¡±
¡°Does it matter?¡± Ron asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°If someone¡¯s pointing their wand at you, you don¡¯t exactly have time to figure out their life story. You just need to stop them before they stop you.¡±
Harry opened his mouth to argue but paused. Ron had a point, in his own way. It wasn¡¯t about justifying what people did, but about understanding enough to know how to defend yourself¡ªand to make sure you didn¡¯t cross the same lines.
He glanced at his parchment again, tapping his quill against the table. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s it,¡± he muttered, mostly to himself.
Hermione looked up from her notes. ¡°What¡¯s it?¡±
¡°Why understanding these curses matters,¡± Harry said, straightening. ¡°It¡¯s not just knowing how to defend against them. It¡¯s knowing why they¡¯re so dangerous. Why they corrupt people. If we don¡¯t understand that, how can we be sure we won¡¯t make the same mistakes?¡±
Ron looked skeptical. ¡°I still say you¡¯re overthinking it, mate. But, you know, write whatever you want. As long as Snape doesn¡¯t make us write one like that.¡±
Harry grinned faintly, then bent over his parchment and began writing from the start.
The Unforgivable Curses: Why Understanding Them is Crucial for Survival
By Harry Potter
The Unforgivable Curses are among the most dangerous spells ever created, not only because of their effects but because of what they represent. They are designed to strip away everything that makes us human: life, freedom, and even the ability to endure. To understand them is not just a matter of theory¡ªit is a matter of survival.
The Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, is the most final of the three. There is no counter-curse, no way to block it. The only way to survive it is to avoid being hit altogether. This makes understanding its use and limitations crucial. Knowing how it works and recognizing the signs of its casting could mean the difference between life and death in a fight.
The Cruciatus Curse, Crucio, is meant to cause unbearable pain. As we learned in class, this curse isn¡¯t simply about incantation or wand movement¡ªit requires intent. To cast it, a wizard must mean it. They must truly want their victim to suffer. This makes it especially dangerous because it draws on the caster¡¯s darkest emotions, corrupting them in the process. Someone who uses Crucio willingly is not only causing harm to others but also to themselves.
The Imperius Curse, Imperio, removes a person¡¯s ability to make their own choices. It gives the caster complete control over their victim, turning them into a puppet. This curse is dangerous because it can be subtle, leaving no outward sign that a person is under its influence. Understanding how to resist it is critical, as even the strongest minds can be vulnerable.
Knowing these curses and their effects is not about using them¡ªit¡¯s about recognizing them, defending against them, and surviving them. Professor Moody was right to stress the importance of understanding not only how these curses work but also what they demand from the caster. Each of these spells requires something far worse than skill or power: the willingness to sacrifice morality.
In learning about the Unforgivable Curses, we are not simply preparing to defend ourselves. We are learning the boundaries of what magic should and should not do. Because the moment we allow ourselves to cross those boundaries, we lose not just the fight but a piece of who we are.
Harry sat back, rereading the final lines of his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was honest, and that felt like enough. He folded the parchment carefully and set it aside.
¡°Done,¡± he muttered, stretching his arms.
Hermione glanced up from her notes. ¡°Well, at least someone¡¯s making progress.¡±
¡°Speak for yourself,¡± Ron grumbled, flipping half-heartedly through a Potions book. ¡°This is going to take ages. Why couldn¡¯t Snape just let us work on our own instead of sticking us with the Slytherins?¡±
Harry smirked. ¡°Because he likes watching us suffer.¡± He glanced at Ron¡¯s empty parchment. ¡°Got any ideas for that yet?¡±
Ron groaned loudly, slumping further into his chair. ¡°Don¡¯t remind me. Malfoy hasn¡¯t said a word to me since we got paired up. Not that I¡¯m surprised. I¡¯ll probably end up doing the whole thing myself while he swans around being a git.¡±
¡°Or you could try talking to him,¡± Hermione suggested, not looking up.
Ron shot her a glare. ¡°And what, ask him nicely to stop being a stuck-up prat? Sure, Hermione, I¡¯ll get right on that.¡±
Harry stifled a laugh. ¡°Alright, Ron, forget I asked. Just don¡¯t get detention for hexing him before the project¡¯s done.¡±
Ron muttered something under his breath, and Harry decided it was best to change the subject. He pulled out The Theory of Spells from his bag, flipping through the pages.
He paused when a chapter heading caught his eye: The Magical Core: Understanding the Source of Power. He hadn¡¯t noticed it over the summer, but something about it felt important now.
The introduction was brief but direct.
¡°Every spell, every bit of magic a wizard or witch performs, originates from their magical core. This core, unique to each individual, acts as a reservoir of magical energy. Learning to sense and regulate this core is a cornerstone of advanced spellcasting.¡±
Harry¡¯s brow furrowed as he kept reading.
¡°Most beginners access their magic instinctively, with little thought to the energy they expend. However, advanced practitioners learn to control this energy, drawing precisely what they need without waste. A controlled magical core leads to stronger, more consistent spells and prevents exhaustion during prolonged use.¡±
Harry leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. He thought of all the times he¡¯d cast spells without much thought¡ªreacting more than planning. Was he wasting energy every time? Or worse, was he drawing too much from his core without realizing it?
The next section provided a practical exercise:
¡°To begin sensing your magical core, find a quiet place and hold your wand lightly in your hand. Close your eyes and focus on the feeling of the wand, the connection between it and yourself. Imagine the magic inside you as a steady flame, glowing in the center of your being. With practice, you may begin to feel a subtle pull or warmth, a sign of your core responding to your focus.¡±
Harry glanced around. Ron was grumbling under his breath, flipping through his Potions book without enthusiasm. Hermione was deep in her notes, oblivious to anything outside her bubble of parchment and ink.
Good. No one was paying attention.
He held his wand loosely in his hand and closed his eyes, trying to picture the flame the book described. Small, steady, and somewhere deep inside him.
Nothing happened.
Harry frowned, adjusting his grip. He took a slow breath and tried again, focusing harder on the instructions. A flicker¡ªhe thought he felt something for a split second¡ªbut it was gone before he could grasp it.
He opened one eye, glancing at his wand. Still the same.
¡°Great,¡± he muttered under his breath.
Trying again, he closed his eyes and forced the image of the flame to reappear. He concentrated so hard his head started to ache, but there was no warmth, no pull, no sign of anything.
When he opened his eyes again, all he felt was frustration.
The book had made it sound straightforward¡ªhold your wand, focus, sense your core. But it clearly wasn¡¯t. Maybe it was too advanced for someone like him. After all, he¡¯d never exactly been top of the class in spellwork.
Harry set the wand down with a sigh and pushed the book aside. This wasn¡¯t something he could just force, and he was already starting to draw curious looks from Madam Pince.
For now, he¡¯d leave it alone. But he couldn¡¯t shake the idea that this was important¡ªsomething worth coming back to when he was ready.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The winding staircase leading to the Divination classroom was as stuffy and claustrophobic as Harry remembered. The air grew warmer with every step, the faint scent of incense creeping down to meet them like a warning.
¡°Still can¡¯t believe we signed up for this again,¡±
Harry glanced back at Ron. ¡°You were the one who said it¡¯d be an easy O.W.L.¡±
¡°Yeah, well, I wasn¡¯t expecting the price to be sitting through another year of her doom-and-gloom nonsense,¡± Ron grumbled.
They reached the trapdoor at the top, and Harry pushed it open. Warm, perfumed air spilled out, and they climbed into the circular room. Beads, tapestries, and flickering lanterns gave the space its usual overstuffed, hazy feel.
Professor Trelawney was already seated at the front of the room, her large eyes magnified behind her thick glasses. She greeted them with her customary air of mystique. ¡°Ah, my dears, welcome. Come, settle yourselves. The mists have been unusually restless today¡ªI sense we are on the cusp of great revelations.¡±
Ron shot Harry a look that said Here we go again, but they took their usual seats near the back.
The rest of the class trickled in, some yawning, others shuffling reluctantly. Once everyone was seated, Trelawney rose dramatically.
¡°Today,¡± she began, her voice heavy with theatrical importance, ¡°we shall delve into the most elusive of all mysteries: the art of the Crystal Ball.¡±
Several students groaned quietly, and Ron leaned over to Harry. ¡°Crystal balls? Again? Didn¡¯t we already spend half of last year squinting into those things?¡±
Harry snorted but kept his eyes on Trelawney as she began arranging a row of cloudy crystal balls on the front table.
¡°The future,¡± she intoned, ¡°is not for the faint of heart. To see what lies ahead, one must open their inner eye, casting aside the veil of doubt that clouds our perceptions.¡±
Harry exchanged another glance with Ron. The only thing cloudy in the room was the crystal balls themselves.
Trelawney floated between the tables, her shawls trailing behind her like drifting mist. ¡°Clear your minds, my dears,¡± she said, her voice hushed ¡°Let the crystal draw you in. Look beyond the surface¡ªpeer into the depths where the truth lies hidden.¡±
Harry squinted into the foggy ball in front of him. It looked like the same useless lump of glass it had always been. He tried to focus, but all he saw was his own vague reflection staring back at him.
¡°Anything?¡± Ron whispered from the corner of his mouth, not even pretending to look interested.
¡°Just clouds,¡± Harry muttered. ¡°You?¡±
Nothing. Not even a flicker. Think mine¡¯s broken.¡± Ron poked it half-heartedly.
Trelawney appeared at their table like a sudden gust of perfumed air. She leaned over Harry¡¯s crystal ball, her enormous eyes narrowing behind her thick glasses. ¡°Ah,¡± she breathed, her voice dropping to a near whisper. ¡°Yes. I see¡ shadows. A shroud of darkness, curling ever closer.¡±
Ron gave Harry a sideways glance, barely suppressing a snort.
¡°Professor,¡± Harry said, deadpan, ¡°are you about to tell me I¡¯m going to die again?¡±
Trelawney recoiled, her hands fluttering dramatically to her chest. ¡°Not just death, my dear boy. A fate most dire! The Grim looms large in your future¡ªit is undeniable.¡±
Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Right. Thanks for the warning.¡±
She huffed, clearly displeased, and floated to the next table.
Ron burst out laughing the moment she was out of earshot. ¡°You¡¯d think she¡¯d come up with a new prediction by now. Grim this, Grim that. She¡¯s obsessed.¡±
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think we could find better ways to spend this hour.¡±
Ron perked up. ¡°Skipping it? I¡¯m in.¡±
¡°Not what I meant,¡± Harry said, smirking. ¡°I was thinking we could switch to another subject.¡±
¡°What?¡± Ron groaned, slumping in his chair. ¡°And have more work to do? No thanks. I¡¯ve got enough homework as it is.¡±
Harry stared back into the crystal ball, his reflection rippling faintly. For all her theatrics, Trelawney had managed to make him consider one thing: maybe his time here really could be better spent.
I wrote and already published next three chapters, for more information check my profile.
Chapter 13
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, picking at his toast while Ron shoveled eggs onto his plate. The usual morning buzz of the Great Hall surrounded them, but Harry¡¯s thoughts were elsewhere.
¡°I¡¯m serious, Ron,¡± Harry said, breaking the silence. ¡°I¡¯m thinking about dropping Divination.¡±
Ron didn¡¯t look up from his plate. ¡®You said that yesterday,¡¯ he said around a mouthful of food.
¡°Yeah, and I mean it.¡¯ Harry pushed his plate away. ¡®What¡¯s the point in staying? All we do is stare at crystal balls and hear Trelawney predict my death for the hundredth time.¡±
Ron swallowed hard, finally looking up. ¡°But it¡¯s easy, Harry! You don¡¯t even have to try! You just make something up, and she calls it brilliant.¡±
¡°That¡¯s exactly the problem,¡± Harry said irritated ¡°It¡¯s useless. I could spend that time actually learning something.¡±
Ron¡¯s fork clattered against his plate. ¡°Learning something? Come on, Harry. You¡¯re just going to leave me to sit there on my own while you swan off to¡ to what? Ancient Runes? Arithmancy?¡±
At that moment, Hermione slid onto the bench across from them, neatly setting down a stack of books. ¡°What¡¯s this about Arithmancy?¡± she asked, glancing back and forth between them.
Ron leaned toward her, looking desperate. ¡°Can you believe it? Harry¡¯s talking about quitting Divination!¡±
Hermione¡¯s eyebrows shot up, and Ron grinned, expecting her to agree with him. Instead, she said, ¡°Really? That¡¯s great!¡±
Ron froze, staring at her in betrayal. ¡°What?¡±
¡°It¡¯s not like you didn¡¯t see this coming,¡± Hermione said briskly, pulling out a quill. ¡°Harry¡¯s been talking about how much he hates Divination since last year.¡±
Ron slumped in his seat, throwing an arm over his eyes. ¡°Unbelievable. My own friends. Betrayed.¡±
Harry couldn¡¯t help but laugh, even as he shook his head. ¡°Come on, Ron, you¡¯ll survive without me.¡±
¡°I doubt it,¡± Ron grumbled, peeking out from under his arm. ¡°Alright, fine, if you quit, what¡¯re you even going to take instead?¡±
Harry hesitated, but before he could answer, an owl swooped down and landed in front of him. It dropped a brown package onto the table, narrowly missing Ron¡¯s goblet.
Harry unwrapped the parcel, revealing two worn leather books with faded gold titles: Broken Mind and Broken Body.
¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Hermione asked, leaning forward. ¡°I don¡¯t recognize these.¡±
Ron squinted at the cracked leather covers. ¡°They look ancient. Are they even in English?¡±
Harry flipped one of the books open, his initial excitement dimming as his eyes scanned the pages. The text was written in a strange, looping script, with letters that seemed to shift if he stared at them too long. ¡°Not English,¡± he muttered.
¡°Let me see,¡± Hermione said, reaching for one of the books. Harry handed it over, and she flipped through its pages. ¡°This doesn¡¯t look like any magical text I¡¯ve read before. The script¡ it might be an old dialect, or maybe even a cipher.¡±
¡°A cipher?¡± Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.
¡°A code,¡± Hermione explained distractedly, flipping carefully through the pages. ¡°Some wizards used codes in their writings to protect sensitive information. Especially when dealing with dangerous magic.¡± She glanced up at Harry. ¡°Where did these come from?¡±
¡°Sirius sent them,¡± Harry said, pulling out the accompanying letter from his bag.
¡°Sirius?¡± Hermione¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Why?¡±
Harry glanced at Ron, then back at Hermione. ¡°I¡ I asked him to send me anything that might help with reversing the effects of the Cruciatus Curse.¡±
Ron let out a low whistle. ¡°Blimey, Harry. You¡¯re taking on a lot. That¡¯s heavy stuff.¡±
Hermione, however, didn¡¯t seem surprised. She nodded thoughtfully. ¡°It makes sense. Sirius would have access to old texts¡ªBlack family magic and all that.¡±
Ron stared at the books, frowning. ¡°Yeah, but can you even use them if you can¡¯t read them?¡±
Harry sighed, closing the second book. ¡°That¡¯s the problem. I was hoping for something more straightforward, but this feels like it¡¯s going to take weeks just to understand the basics.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t give up,¡± Hermione said ¡°If these really are from the Black library, they could hold something important. It just means we¡¯ll have to take it one step at a time.¡±
Harry wasn¡¯t sure how he felt about we¡¯ll, but he nodded anyway. Sliding the books back into his bag, he pulled out his schedule, needing to focus on something else.
Wednesday
- Morning
- Double Transfiguration (Professor McGonagall)
- Lunch
- Free
- Afternoon
- Study Hall
- Care of Magical Creatures (Hagrid)
¡°McGonagall first,¡± Harry said, tucking his schedule into his bag.
Ron groaned, slinging his bag over his shoulder. ¡°You think she¡¯s going to be stricter this year? It¡¯s fourth year¡ªshe¡¯s bound to up the difficulty.¡±
Harry smirked. ¡°You¡¯re always complaining about how strict she is, but you¡¯re not wrong. I just wonder what kind of spells we¡¯ll get to learn this time.¡±
¡°Spells that¡¯ll land me in detention, probably,¡± Ron muttered.
Hermione rolled her eyes as she fell into step beside them. ¡°Maybe if you focused for once¡ª¡±
¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Ron interrupted. ¡°Work hard, pay attention, don¡¯t daydream. Heard it before.¡±
They turned the corner, nearly colliding with Luna Lovegood, who stood in the middle of the corridor, tilting her head as if listening to something.
¡°Luna?¡± Harry asked, startled.
She turned toward them, her wide, dreamy eyes blinking slowly. ¡°Oh, hello, Harry. I think I¡¯ve lost my classroom. Or maybe it¡¯s just hiding.¡±
Ron gave Harry a look, but Harry stepped forward. ¡°What are you looking for?¡±
¡°Charms,¡± Luna said adjusting her radish earrings.
¡°That¡¯s on the second floor,¡± Hermione said, gesturing toward the stairs. ¡°You¡¯re on the wrong level.¡±
Luna nodded, her expression unbothered. ¡°That makes sense. I¡¯ll find it eventually. Thank you.¡±
With that, she drifted off in the opposite direction, humming softly. Ron watched her go, shaking his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know how she makes it through the day.¡±
Harry grinned. ¡°Probably the same way you do. She¡¯s just more interesting about it.¡±
Ron snorted, and they continued toward the Transfiguration classroom.
The room was already half-full, with Ravenclaws sitting in neat rows on one side and Gryffindors scattered more haphazardly on the other. Harry made his way to his usual seat without much thought, dropping his bag onto the floor with a dull thud.
Professor McGonagall strode into the room. She didn¡¯t waste time with pleasantries.
¡°This year,¡± she began, ¡°you will face new challenges. Advanced Transfiguration requires more than just proper wandwork. It demands clear intention and a thorough understanding of magical theory. If you wish to succeed, you¡¯ll need to give this subject your full focus.¡±
With a wave of her wand, McGonagall filled the board with the words: Switching Spells: The Foundation of Advanced Transfiguration.
¡°Switching spells,¡± she said, pacing briskly at the front of the room, ¡°are about balance. You¡¯re not just transforming one object into another¡ªyou¡¯re exchanging their properties. Precision is everything. A single lapse in focus can lead to failure. Today¡¯s lesson will cover the basics.¡±
Trays of objects appeared on the desks with a faint pop. Harry glanced down to see a feather and a coin resting on his.
¡°Your task,¡± McGonagall continued, ¡°is to exchange the properties of these two items while maintaining their integrity. The feather must take on the weight and density of the coin, and the coin must acquire the lightness and texture of the feather. Begin.¡±
Harry stared at the feather and coin, his wand balanced in his hand. The objects seemed simple enough, but the task was anything but. He glanced at the blackboard again. Page 327, McGonagall had written beneath the chapter title.
Flipping open his textbook, Harry quickly found the section on Switching Spells. The page detailed the theory, the incantation ¡°Permutatio,¡± and the specific wand movement¡ªa small arc ending in a precise flick. The key, though, was intent.
¡°Success depends on complete focus and the ability to visualize the properties of the objects as fluid and interchangeable. The caster must direct magical energy with clarity and purpose, or the transformation will falter.¡±
Harry leaned back in his chair, thinking of the magical core exercise he¡¯d tried in the library the previous day. He hadn¡¯t quite managed to feel anything then, but maybe now, with a clear goal, it would work. If controlling his core was the foundation of advanced magic, it had to be worth trying again.
He rested his wand on the desk for a moment and closed his eyes. Slowly, he brought to mind the image from the book¡ªthe flame deep inside, steady and quiet. He pictured it as clearly as he could, imagining the power flowing through him and into his wand, ready to shape the transformation.
Opening his eyes, Harry picked up his wand and pointed it at the feather. He pictured its softness solidifying, its weight increasing, while the coin grew light and airy in its place. ¡°Permutatio.¡±
The spell fizzled. The feather wobbled, giving the faintest metallic sheen before collapsing back into its natural state. The coin remained stubbornly solid.
Harry frowned, glancing back at the book. The troubleshooting section mentioned focus and intent, but nothing about magical cores. Still, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this was the right approach¡ªif only he could figure it out.
Closing his eyes again, Harry tried harder this time. He imagined the flame more vividly, felt it spreading through his body, connecting him to the objects on the desk. He raised his wand and cast, ¡°Permutatio!¡±
The feather quivered and stiffened again, but the transformation halted halfway, leaving it stuck in a bizarre state¡ªhalf soft, half solid. The coin gave a faint twitch but didn¡¯t lift.
A few Ravenclaws glanced his way, their curiosity evident, but Harry ignored them.
¡°Focus, Potter,¡± McGonagall¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts as she walked past. ¡°The spell requires control, not brute force.¡±
He raised his wand again but hesitated. Why was he so fixated on this magical core idea? It wasn¡¯t in the textbook, wasn¡¯t even mentioned in McGonagall¡¯s instructions. Yet, the thought of controlling his core wouldn¡¯t leave him alone.
Then, out of nowhere, the memory hit him.
The trial.
¡°You are cleansed, but you are not whole. What is taken cannot be replaced. What is left must be enough. Carry it well.¡±
Harry¡¯s hand tightened around his wand, his pulse quickening. What is taken cannot be replaced. What had Merlin meant? Could it have affected his magical core?
Harry set his wand down, his hands trembling slightly. He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. Panic wasn¡¯t going to help, not here, not now.
Maybe he¡¯d pushed too hard, trying to jump ahead. Maybe he wasn¡¯t ready to use his core the way the book described. He had to focus on what he could control.
The end of the lesson arrived with the usual flurry of parchment rustling and students packing away their supplies.
Harry sat back and stared at the desk. The feather and coin hadn¡¯t fully switched, but he¡¯d managed to make the feather heavier and give the coin the slightest softness at its edges. It wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªnot even close¡ªbut it was better than where he¡¯d started.
¡°Many of you,¡± McGonagall said, ¡°struggled with today¡¯s task, as I expected. Switching spells are not beginner¡¯s work. However, failure to complete it will result in an assignment.¡±
A collective groan spread through the room. Harry barely noticed, his mind still turning over the spellwork.
¡°Your homework,¡± McGonagall continued briskly, ¡°is to write two feet on the principles of Switching Spells, including the importance of intent and precision. Due next week.¡±
Harry sighed and stuffed his textbook into his bag.
¡°Before you go,¡± McGonagall said, her voice cutting through the shuffle of chairs and bags, ¡°I¡¯d like to acknowledge that one of you managed to complete the spell successfully. It was a difficult task, and such effort deserves recognition. Ten points to Ravenclaw. Well done, Mr. Selwyn.¡±
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
Harry froze mid-motion, halfway through stuffing his textbook into his bag. Selwyn?
His eyes darted toward the Ravenclaw side of the room, where a boy was calmly packing up his things. He had short, tidy brown hair and didn¡¯t seem the least bit fazed by McGonagall¡¯s praise. Harry didn¡¯t know him, couldn¡¯t even put a name to his face¡ªother than the one McGonagall had just said.
Selwyn.
A chill ran down Harry¡¯s spine. Adrian Selwyn. The Death Eater from the forest. The man who had tortured Tracey and¡ªHarry swallowed hard¡ªnearly killed him.
And then it clicked. Back in the hospital wing, Hermione had mentioned it offhandedly, while they were going over everything that had happened that night. Adrian Selwyn had a son at Hogwarts.
Harry¡¯s grip tightened on the strap of his bag as he watched the boy¡ªCaleb Selwyn, that¡¯s what Hermione had said, right? Was he anything like his father? Did he know what his dad had done?
¡°Harry?¡± Hermione¡¯s voice snapped him out of it.
¡°What?¡± he said, jerking his head toward her.
¡°Are you coming, or are you planning to stand there all day?¡± Hermione asked, waiting by the door with Ron.
¡°Oh. Yeah. Coming,¡± Harry muttered, slinging his bag over his shoulder and following them out.
They walked down the corridor, Hermione already discussing the finer points of today¡¯s lesson.
But Harry couldn¡¯t shake the thought that had been bugging him since breakfast. Divination felt like such a waste of time, and the idea of sitting through another year of it made him itch to do something about it.
He glanced at the two of them as they approached the main staircase.
¡°You know what,¡± he said suddenly, stopping in his tracks, ¡°you two go on ahead to lunch. I need to ask McGonagall something.¡±
Hermione blinked at him. ¡°What? Now?¡±
Harry shrugged. ¡°Best I can do is ask, right?¡±
Ron frowned. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna ask her to cancel the homework, are you?¡±
¡°No,¡± Harry said flatly, giving Ron a look.
Hermione, however, caught on quickly. ¡°This is about Divination, isn¡¯t it?¡±
Harry didn¡¯t answer, but the way he adjusted his bag was all the confirmation she needed.
¡°Well, good luck,¡± she said, though her tone carried a note of approval. ¡°We¡¯ll save you a spot.¡±
Ron gave Harry a skeptical look but shrugged. ¡°Rather you than me. McGonagall¡¯s not exactly what I¡¯d call chatty.¡±
¡°She¡¯s fair,¡± Harry said simply, turning back the way they¡¯d come. ¡°I¡¯ll catch you up later.¡±
Hermione and Ron continued on toward the Great Hall, while Harry retraced his steps toward the Transfiguration classroom. It wasn¡¯t like him to march into something like this without a plan but he figured he didn¡¯t have much to lose.
Harry hesitated outside the Transfiguration classroom before knocking softly and stepping inside. Professor McGonagall sat at her desk, sorting through a pile of parchments, her quill moving briskly over one.
¡°Potter?¡± she said, looking up, her expression slightly surprised but not unkind. ¡°Was there something you needed?¡±
¡°Er¡ªyeah,¡± Harry said, stepping forward and scratching the back of his neck. ¡°I wanted to ask about¡ dropping Divination.¡±
McGonagall¡¯s eyebrows rose slightly. ¡°Dropping it?¡± she repeated, setting her quill down and folding her hands in front of her. ¡°That¡¯s a rather sudden decision, Potter. May I ask why?¡±
Harry ran a hand through his hair, his words spilling out in a rush. ¡°It just feels like a waste of time, Professor. We don¡¯t really learn anything useful¡ªwe just stare at crystal balls and listen to Professor Trelawney go on about grim fates. I¡¯d rather spend that time on something that¡¯s actually worth it.¡±
McGonagall considered him for a moment. ¡°I understand your frustrations,¡± she said at last. ¡°But it¡¯s not as simple as dropping a subject halfway through the year.¡±
Harry frowned. ¡°Why not? I mean, it¡¯s my timetable, isn¡¯t it?¡±
McGonagall shook her head slightly. ¡°Elective courses, Potter, are not chosen on a whim. You were given the opportunity to select your electives at the end of your second year, after careful consideration, with the understanding that those choices would form the foundation of your education starting in third year. They¡¯re not intended to be swapped out mid-term simply because a student changes their mind.¡±
¡°But what if I wanted to take something else instead?¡± Harry pressed.
¡°That,¡± McGonagall said, ¡°would still require a proper reason, and significant effort on your part. Hogwarts rules are quite clear on this matter. A student can only drop an elective mid-course under extraordinary circumstances¡ªsuch as if they need additional time to pursue mastery in another subject, or if there is a compelling academic reason. And even then, the decision must be approved by the Headmaster and the relevant professors.¡±
¡°Next year, then?¡± Harry asked, though he already felt his frustration mounting.
McGonagall nodded. ¡°You could potentially request a change next year. However, you would be required to replace Divination with another elective, and you would need to catch up on the first four years of that subject. For something like Ancient Runes, for instance, that would mean reviewing all the foundational work you¡¯ve missed.¡±
Harry winced. ¡°All four years?¡±
¡°Yes,¡± she said firmly. ¡°That includes understanding the basic runic alphabets, their magical properties, and the theoretical principles underpinning their use. It¡¯s a rigorous subject, Potter, and one that builds heavily on prior knowledge. Any student wishing to transfer into it would need to take and pass an assessment to demonstrate that they are capable of handling the current curriculum.¡±
Harry let out a sigh, slumping slightly. ¡°So, basically, I¡¯m stuck with Divination.¡±
McGonagall¡¯s lips twitched, almost as if she were suppressing a smile. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t put it that way, Potter. But yes, for the time being, Divination remains part of your schedule.¡±
¡°That¡¯s¡ brilliant,¡± Harry muttered, his frustration seeping into his tone.
McGonagall straightened slightly. ¡°Potter, I do understand how you feel. Divination is not everyone¡¯s cup of tea¡ªand between you and me, it is¡ an unconventional subject.¡± Her eyes flicked to him knowingly, and Harry was sure he saw the faintest glimmer of amusement there. ¡°However, I would advise you to approach it as an opportunity. Even if it isn¡¯t the most useful subject in your eyes, there is value in completing what you started. You may find it teaches you patience, if nothing else.¡±
Harry let out a humorless laugh. ¡°Patience isn¡¯t exactly my strong suit.¡±
¡°Then perhaps this is the perfect challenge for you,¡± McGonagall said, her tone turning brisk again. ¡°Now, is there anything else?¡±
¡°No, Professor,¡± Harry said, hoisting his bag back over his shoulder. ¡°Thanks for explaining.¡±
McGonagall inclined her head. ¡°Of course. And Potter¡ªif you¡¯re truly serious about pursuing a different path next year, I suggest you start reviewing the material for any potential subjects now. You¡¯ll find that Ancient Runes is far more demanding than a crystal ball.¡±
Harry gave her a faint smile, though he didn¡¯t feel much like smiling, and left the room.
By the time Harry reached the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione had already started eating. Hermione glanced up first, her curious expression morphing into a knowing look.
¡°Well?¡± she asked as he slid onto the bench.
Harry sighed, reaching for the nearest dish. ¡°She said no.¡±
¡°Told you,¡± Ron said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
Harry ignored him and started piling rice and meatballs onto his plate. ¡°She said I could switch next year, but only if I catch up on everything I¡¯ve missed¡ªand pass some kind of test to prove I¡¯m ready.¡±
Hermione perked up at that. ¡°Really? That¡¯s fair, don¡¯t you think?¡±
¡°Fair?¡± Harry echoed, stabbing a meatball with his fork. ¡°She basically told me I¡¯d have to redo four years of work just to ditch Trelawney.¡±
¡°Well, it¡¯s not unreasonable,¡± Hermione said matter-of-factly. ¡°Electives are designed to build on prior knowledge. If you want to take Ancient Runes, you¡¯ll need to learn the foundations first. And it¡¯s not impossible. I could help you¡ª¡±
¡°Thanks, Hermione,¡± Harry said, cutting her off gently, ¡°but I¡¯ll think about it after I finish the project with Snape. I don¡¯t want to pile too much on right now.¡±
She paused, studying him for a moment before nodding. ¡°Alright, but don¡¯t wait too long. If you¡¯re serious about it, you¡¯ll need plenty of time to catch up.¡±
Ron snickered, shoving another forkful of food into his mouth. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re stuck seeing Grim after Grim, mate. Should¡¯ve thought this through in second year.¡±
¡°Thanks, Ron,¡± Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. ¡°That¡¯s really helpful.¡±
¡°Anytime,¡± Ron said cheerfully, reaching for more bread.
As Harry half-heartedly ate his lunch, he decided to put Divination out of his mind for now. Hermione¡¯s offer was kind, but the thought of juggling another huge task alongside Snape¡¯s project felt impossible.
The was quiet save for the soft hooting of owls shifting in their perches. Harry climbed the winding stone stairs, the faint smell of straw and feathers filling the air. Hedwig spotted him before he reached the top, letting out an affectionate hoot as she fluttered down to meet him.
¡°Hey, girl,¡± Harry said softly, holding out his arm for her to land on. Her feathers were smooth beneath his fingers as he stroked her back. ¡°Haven¡¯t had much time to visit, have I?¡±
Hedwig nibbled his finger gently in response, her amber eyes bright. Harry smiled faintly.
As he moved further into the , his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure standing near one of the open windows. Percy Weasley was tying a letter to the leg of a sleek tawny owl, his expression serious as ever.
¡°Percy?¡± Harry said, a bit surprised.
Percy turned, adjusting his glasses. ¡°Oh. Hello, Harry.¡± He cleared his throat, finishing the knot before the owl flew off into the distance. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to see you here.¡±
Harry shrugged, still holding Hedwig on his arm. ¡°Just visiting Hedwig. I¡¯ve got a free period after lunch, so I figured I¡¯d come up here. What about you?¡±
¡°Work correspondence,¡± Percy said, brushing some owl feathers off his robes. ¡°The usual.¡±
There was an awkward pause, Percy shifting slightly before he spoke again. ¡°Actually, I¡¯m glad I ran into you.¡±
Harry tilted his head. ¡°Why?¡±
Percy adjusted his glasses again, something uncharacteristically unsure in his demeanor. ¡°I wanted to thank you. For what you did for my family. The money, I mean. I know you probably didn¡¯t expect anyone to say it outright, but¡ you should know it made a real difference.¡±
Harry blinked, caught off guard. ¡°I¡ªwell, it wasn¡¯t a big deal, really.¡±
¡°It was,¡± Percy insisted. ¡°Mum and Dad decided to use it wisely. Thanks to you, Bill¡¯s coming back to Britain. He¡¯s going to work for again. The certifications he needed¡ well, they weren¡¯t exactly affordable. You know how it is¡ªGringotts has strict requirements for their curse breakers, especially in their main centers like the one in London. When Bill first started, he couldn¡¯t afford those courses, so he took the job in Egypt. They didn¡¯t require the certifications abroad, but it meant being so far from home.¡±
Percy¡¯s voice softened, his usual stiffness giving way to something more genuine.
¡°Bill never said it, but I think he¡¯s wanted to come back for years. He just didn¡¯t want to burden Mum and Dad with the cost, you know? But now he can take those courses, and once he¡¯s certified, he¡¯ll be working in London. Close to home.¡±
Harry was silent, absorbing that.
¡°And as for me,¡± Percy continued ¡°I¡¯ve been able to take additional courses for my Ministry work. Specialization in magical law enforcement policy. Without that, I¡¯d probably be stuck in some corner office forever.¡±
Harry¡¯s face flushed slightly, and he looked down at Hedwig, who tilted her head curiously at him. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that. I just thought¡ I don¡¯t know. That it might help somehow.¡±
¡°It did,¡± Percy said, a rare warmth in his voice. ¡°You gave us more than just money, Harry. You gave us opportunities. And we¡¯re not going to waste them.¡±
Harry shifted awkwardly, not knowing what to say. ¡°Well¡ I¡¯m glad. Really.¡±
Percy gave a small, tight smile. ¡°Anyway, I should get back to work. But¡ thank you. From all of us.¡± He nodded once, then turned to leave, his polished shoes clicking against the stone steps as he descended.
Harry watched him go, feeling an odd mix of embarrassment and pride settle in his chest. Hedwig hooted softly, as if sensing his thoughts.
¡°Yeah, I know,¡± he murmured, giving her one last pat before guiding her back to her perch. ¡°Guess I didn¡¯t mess that one up, huh?¡±
As Harry left the Owlery, he wandered toward the lake, letting the cool breeze wash over him. The water shimmered in the midday sun, rippling gently against the shore. He found a spot under a tree and sat down, resting his back against the trunk.
The quiet felt nice. The chaos of the castle, the endless projects, and the noise in his head¡ªall of it seemed to fade here. He watched the giant squid lazily glide near the surface, its tentacles creating gentle ripples in the water.
With a sigh, Harry pulled his Transfiguration book out of his bag, along with a roll of parchment and his quill. He figured he might as well cross off the homework now rather than leaving it for later.
Harry stared at the blank roll of parchment in front of him, quill in hand, and let out a sigh. ¡°Two feet on the principles of Switching Spells,¡± he muttered to himself, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it easier. He dipped his quill in the ink and scribbled down the title, then paused, his mind completely blank.
The lesson itself hadn¡¯t been awful, but the homework? McGonagall wasn¡¯t kidding when she said Switching Spells were advanced magic. The feather and coin in class had barely done what he wanted, and now he was supposed to explain it all like he understood every word in the textbook.
He glanced at the lake, hoping the gentle ripples would somehow inspire him. When nothing happened Harry groaned and forced his eyes back to the page.
¡°Alright,¡± he said under his breath, ¡°intent and precision. Start with that.¡±
The quill scratched faintly as he wrote, his handwriting a little slanted from leaning awkwardly on the uneven grass:
Switching Spells require the caster to focus on the properties of two objects and exchange them without damaging either. This involves clear intent, precise wandwork, and a solid understanding of magical theory.
He stopped, rereading the sentence. It wasn¡¯t great, but it would do. Harry leaned back against the tree, running a hand through his hair as he tried to remember what else McGonagall had said.
He thought back to her pacing at the front of the room: ¡°The spell demands balance. It¡¯s not just about transforming objects, but understanding their nature and respecting the exchange.¡±
¡°Respecting the exchange,¡± Harry repeated to himself, frowning slightly. That felt important, but it also felt vague. How exactly were you supposed to ¡°respect¡± an exchange when all you were doing was shouting Permutatio and hoping for the best?
Still, he jotted it down:
The caster must respect the properties of each object to ensure the exchange is stable. A lack of focus can result in instability or failure.
He paused again, chewing on the end of his quill. His thoughts drifted back to his own attempt in class. The feather had stiffened slightly, and the coin had twitched¡ªbut that was as far as he¡¯d gotten. Maybe he should write about that?
With a sigh, Harry added:
During practice, it became clear that even minor lapses in focus could affect the outcome. My attempt to switch a feather and coin only worked partially, as I struggled to maintain a clear image of the desired result.
Harry leaned back, looking at what he¡¯d written so far. It wasn¡¯t bad¡ªdefinitely not two feet yet, but at least it was a start.
After Harry had come back from his quiet time at the lake, he headed to the study hall near the dungeons. Now sitting with Hermione and Ron at one of the middle tables, he found his attention wandering.
Ron was slouched over his parchment, muttering under his breath as he scratched out something that might pass for homework. ¡°How does McGonagall expect two feet on this? ¡®Switching Spells are difficult.¡¯ There, done!¡± he grumbled.
Hermione didn¡¯t even look up from her own essay. ¡°Maybe if you actually read the chapter, you¡¯d understand the principles behind it,¡± she said, her quill moving furiously across the parchment.
Harry barely heard them. His gaze had landed on Daphne Greengrass, who sat alone at a desk in the far corner. She was writing something, her head bent low over her parchment.
Harry hesitated for a moment, then stood up.
¡°What are you doing?¡± Ron whispered, raising an eyebrow as Harry slung his bag over his shoulder.
¡°Just¡ I¡¯ll be back,¡± Harry muttered, heading toward Daphne¡¯s table before he could second-guess himself.
She didn¡¯t look up as he approached, her quill scratching softly against the parchment. Harry stopped next to her desk.
¡°Mind if I sit?¡± he asked.
¡°Hello, Potter,¡± Daphne said, looking up briefly. She nodded toward the chair across from her.
Harry slid into the seat, setting his bag down beside him. ¡°What¡¯re you working on?¡± he asked, gesturing to the books and parchment spread out in front of her.
¡°Research,¡± she replied, dipping her quill into the inkwell. ¡°Proper brewing techniques. It¡¯s for our project.¡±
¡°Oh,¡± Harry said, leaning forward a little. ¡°You¡¯ve already started on that? What¡¯s your idea?¡±
¡°I¡¯m thinking healing potions,¡± Daphne said, glancing at him briefly before returning to her notes. ¡°They¡¯re tricky to brew correctly, but they can be really effective when done right.¡±
Harry sat back, intrigued. ¡°Healing potions? That¡¯s¡ a solid idea, actually.¡± He gave her a nod. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about that too¡ªfiguring out how to make something that could help with, you know, real damage. Especially stuff like¡ the Cruciatus.¡±
Daphne¡¯s quill froze mid-word, and her eyes flicked back to him. ¡°The Cruciatus?¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± Harry said, not noticing her reaction. He reached into his bag and pulled out a folded piece of parchment, spreading it out on the table. It was covered in scrawled notes and ingredient lists, some circled and underlined. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking into ingredients that could target physical and nerve damage. Silverweed, comfrey, even dittany¡ªthough that¡¯s tricky. I talked to Professor Sprout about some of them.¡±
Daphne¡¯s eyes stayed on the parchment, her brows slightly furrowed. ¡°You¡¯ve really put a lot of thought into this,¡± she said after a moment.
Harry shrugged, leaning back slightly. ¡°Yeah, well, I have a couple of old books I¡¯ve been going through. They¡¯re¡ not exactly easy to read¡ªsome old script or code or something. But I think they might have something useful about reversing dark curses¡ªmaybe even the Cruciatus. Just going to take a bit of work to figure them out.¡±
Daphne looked at him, genuinely surprised. ¡°You¡¯re deciphering books now?¡±
Harry gave a small, self-deprecating grin. ¡°Kind of? It¡¯s slow, but if there¡¯s even a chance it could help, I think it¡¯s worth it.¡± He tapped the parchment again. ¡°Until I get through them, though, I¡¯m focusing on ingredients that might make sense for healing. There¡¯s a lot out there I still need to figure out.¡±
Daphne stared at him for a second longer before she smirked faintly, shaking her head. ¡°You¡¯re a lot more prepared than I thought you¡¯d be, Potter. Not bad.¡±
¡°Thanks, I guess,¡± Harry said with a small laugh. ¡°Anyway, we should plan this out properly. Saturday morning, library?¡±
¡°Fine,¡± she agreed, dipping her quill back into the inkwell. ¡°I¡¯ll work on brewing techniques and refining the process. You stick with ingredients and see what you can dig up in those books of yours. We¡¯ll compare notes then.¡±
Harry nodded. ¡°Sounds good. Thanks, Greengrass. See you Saturday.¡±
Daphne gave him a nod, her focus already shifting back to her notes. Harry stood, gathering his things and heading back to Ron and Hermione.
Chapter 14
Harry dropped into his seat at the table, tossing his bag onto the floor. Hermione was scribbling away at her Arithmancy homework, barely looking up, while Ron glared at his Transfiguration parchment.
Ron glanced up as Harry pulled out his Transfiguration book and the half-filled roll of parchment he¡¯d started earlier. ¡°So¡ what was that about? Why were you talking to Greengrass?¡±
¡°Snape¡¯s project,¡± Harry said, uncapping his inkpot. ¡°We¡¯ve got to pitch our idea by Monday, remember? Thought I¡¯d check in with her.¡± He flattened his parchment and found where he¡¯d left off by the lake, reading over his last few sentences.
Ron groaned, slumping forward. ¡°Don¡¯t remind me. I haven¡¯t even spoken to Malfoy yet. How am I supposed to come up with some brilliant idea when I can¡¯t even look at him without wanting to punch him?¡±
¡°You don¡¯t have much time left,¡± Hermione said, not even pausing her writing. ¡°You need to figure it out before Monday, or Snape will make sure you regret it.¡±
Ron sighed dramatically. ¡°Yeah, yeah. But seriously, what am I supposed to say? ¡®Hey, Malfoy, got any bright ideas for a four-month-long project?¡¯ He¡¯ll probably suggest something like¡ polishing his shoes.¡±
Harry dipped his quill into the ink, mumbling, ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter what he suggests. Just talk to him and get it over with. You don¡¯t have to like him, you just have to agree on something.¡± He crossed out a line and rewrote it, frowning at his messy handwriting.
¡°Easy for you to say,¡± Ron muttered. ¡°At least Greengrass isn¡¯t¡ well, you know¡ Malfoy.¡±
Harry let out a quiet laugh but didn¡¯t look up, scratching out another note about intent in Switching Spells. Across from him, Hermione finally set her quill down and fixed Ron with a look.
¡°Honestly, Ron, it doesn¡¯t have to be groundbreaking. Just something reasonable. The point is to learn, not impress Snape.¡±
¡°Ha!¡± Ron scoffed. ¡°When¡¯s the last time anyone learned anything from Snape that wasn¡¯t about how much he hates us?¡±
Hermione rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, ¡°Hopeless.¡±
Harry tapped the end of his quill against the edge of the table, scanning his notes. ¡°Alright,¡± he said, tilting his parchment toward Ron. ¡°Switching Spells need clear intent, precision, and balance. I wrote about intent already, but I¡¯ve got nothing solid on precision yet. Any ideas?¡±
Ron looked at Harry, his grumbling fading as he noticed Harry¡¯s focus. ¡°Uh¡ precision,¡± he said, leaning back in his chair. He stared at his half-empty parchment before straightening up a bit. ¡°I guess that¡¯s like¡ the wand movement, right? And keeping it steady? McGonagall said even a tiny wobble can ruin everything.¡±
¡°Exactly,¡± Harry said, nodding. ¡°It¡¯s about controlling the flow of magic, like making sure you don¡¯t pour too much or too little into the spell.¡±
Ron frowned, picking up his quill again. ¡°Yeah, alright, that makes sense. I could write about that. Something like how the wand movement has to match what you¡¯re picturing, or else it all falls apart.¡±
¡°Perfect,¡± Harry said, scratching out a line and replacing it with Ron¡¯s point. ¡°Write it down, at least it¡¯s better than what I¡¯ve got about feathers wobbling around.¡±
Ron cracked a small grin and dipped his quill into the inkpot. ¡°Alright, fine. If you¡¯re actually putting the effort in, I guess I can too.¡± He leaned over his parchment and started writing, pausing every now and then to check the notes in his textbook.
Harry smirked but didn¡¯t say anything. He added a new line to his essay, jotting down how precision wasn¡¯t just about wand movements but about balancing intent and focus at the same time. His quill moved quickly as the ideas came together.
After a few minutes of quiet writing, Ron glanced over at Harry. ¡°Okay, so how do you explain the part where the objects keep their other properties? Like, the coin gets light, but it doesn¡¯t stop being, you know, a coin.¡±
Harry looked up, surprised. ¡°That¡¯s a good one. McGonagall called it maintaining integrity or something like that, right? The spell doesn¡¯t just swap, it has to keep everything stable.¡±
Ron nodded, scribbling that down. ¡°Right. So, it¡¯s like¡ you have to picture them as two halves of a whole, instead of two separate things.¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± Harry said, smiling. ¡°You¡¯ve got it.¡±
Ron¡¯s shoulders relaxed a bit as he kept writing, filling in more of his essay. ¡°This isn¡¯t half as bad when you actually start working through it,¡± he admitted.
¡°Exactly,¡± Harry said. ¡°It¡¯s just getting started that¡¯s the hard part.¡±
They worked for the next while, the classroom quiet except for the sound of quills scratching and Hermione occasionally flipping a page of her textbook. By the time the study hall was nearly over, Ron held up his parchment with a satisfied look.
¡°Two feet,¡± he said. ¡°Not perfect, but it¡¯s done.¡±
Harry rolled up his own parchment, giving Ron a nod. ¡°Nice. See? That wasn¡¯t so bad.¡±
Ron smirked. ¡°Yeah, but next time, remind me not to complain until after we finish.¡±
¡°Deal,¡± Harry said, stuffing his parchment back into his bag. ¡°Now, let¡¯s hope Hagrid doesn¡¯t have the Skrewts trying to set us on fire again.¡±
¡°Knowing Hagrid? He probably thinks setting us on fire is part of the lesson,¡± Ron said as they packed up their things and got ready to head out.
As the bell rang, the two of them grabbed their bags and headed for the door, feeling a bit lighter with one more task crossed off their list.
The late afternoon sun was low in the sky as Harry, Ron, and Hermione trudged down the sloping path toward Hagrid¡¯s hut, their bags bumping against their legs. The air smelled faintly of damp grass and smoke probably from whatever new chaos Hagrid had planned for the lesson.
As they reached the paddock, they spotted Hagrid waving them over, his massive hand gesturing excitedly. ¡°Over here, everyone! Yeh¡¯re gonna love this!¡±
The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, who shared this lesson, exchanged wary looks but shuffled closer. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were corralled in a large pen, scratching at the dirt with their spiny legs. A faint sizzling noise came from one of them, and Harry quickly stepped back, hoping it wasn¡¯t about to blow.
¡°Alright!¡± Hagrid said cheerfully, clapping his hands. ¡°Today, we¡¯re gonna focus on feedin¡¯ ¡®em proper. They¡¯re growin¡¯ fast now, and we¡¯ve gotta make sure they¡¯re strong enough fer colder weather.¡±
¡°Cold weather?¡± Dean Thomas muttered from somewhere in the crowd. ¡°Are they hibernating or taking over the world?¡±
Hagrid either didn¡¯t hear or ignored him. ¡°Now, Skrewts are picky eaters, but I¡¯ve got some fresh meat an¡¯ special feed they¡¯ll love.¡± He gestured to a bucket filled with what looked like raw liver and some kind of glittering, wriggling pellets. Several people recoiled in disgust.
Hagrid grinned. ¡°Go on, then! Pair up an¡¯ pick a Skrewt ter feed. Don¡¯t be shy!¡±
Harry ended up partnered with Ron, and the two of them hesitantly approached a Skrewt that was clicking its pincers menacingly. ¡°This one¡¯s definitely looking at me funny,¡± Ron whispered.
¡°Don¡¯t give it a reason to blow up,¡± Harry muttered back, grabbing a chunk of liver with a grimace. ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡±
They crouched down, trying to avoid the Skrewt¡¯s spiked tail as they held the food out toward its mouth,or at least the part of it they thought was the mouth. It snapped the meat up with a horrible crunching noise that made Ron gag.
¡°Think we¡¯re doing it right?¡± Harry asked, glancing toward Hermione, who was a few feet away, methodically feeding a Skrewt while rattling off facts from her textbook to an uninterested Neville.
¡°Right enough,¡± Ron said, wiping his hands on his robes. ¡°I just hope¡¡±
A sharp shriek cut through the air. Harry spun around just in time to see one of the Skrewts whip its tail wildly, knocking a Hufflepuff girl Megan Jones, backward into the dirt. She clutched her arm, which hung at an odd angle, her face pale with pain.
¡°Megan!¡± Hagrid shouted, barreling over. ¡°Blimey, everyone, back away from the pen! Give ¡®er space!¡±
The students scrambled back, some looking horrified, others whispering nervously. Hagrid knelt beside Megan, his enormous hands surprisingly gentle as he checked her injury. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s broken,¡± he muttered. ¡°C¡¯mon, let¡¯s get yeh ter Madam Pomfrey.¡±
¡°Hagrid,¡± Hermione started, stepping forward, but he held up a hand.
¡°Class dismissed,¡± he said, his voice tight. ¡°Head back ter the castle. I¡¯ll deal with this.¡±
The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs hesitated, but eventually, they began gathering their things and heading up the hill. Harry, Ron, and Hermione lingered for a moment, exchanging uneasy glances.
¡°Hagrid looked worried,¡± Hermione said softly, watching as he carefully helped Megan to her feet. ¡°That¡¯s not like him.¡±
¡°Maybe he¡¯s finally realizing these things aren¡¯t exactly safe,¡± Ron muttered, slinging his bag over his shoulder. ¡°Not that it makes me feel any better about having to deal with them.¡±
¡°Come on,¡± Harry said, nudging Ron forward. ¡°Let¡¯s just head back to the common room.¡±
They fell into step as they crossed the courtyard, Ron shoving his hands into his pockets. ¡°So. That was the last lesson of the day. What now?¡±
¡°Common room?¡± Harry suggested.
¡°Yeah, sounds good,¡± Ron muttered.
¡°I need to finish my Ancient Runes translation,¡± Hermione said. ¡°I still have three left, and one of them isn¡¯t making any sense.¡±
¡°You signed up for that,¡± Ron pointed out. ¡°That¡¯s your own fault.¡±
Hermione shot him a look. ¡°At least I¡¯m doing my work instead of putting it off until the last second.¡±
Ron just grumbled as they climbed the stone steps into the castle. Harry had been quiet, only half-listening.
Hermione noticed. ¡°You¡¯re being weird,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±
¡°Nothing,¡± Harry said.
Ron snorted. ¡°Liar. That¡¯s your ¡®I¡¯m thinking too hard about something and don¡¯t know how to say it¡¯ face.¡±
Harry rolled his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t have a face.¡±
¡°You definitely have a face,¡± Ron shot back. ¡°Spit it out.¡±
Hermione gave him a knowing look. ¡°This isn¡¯t about Sirius, is it?¡±
Harry exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°It¡¯s not that. It¡¯s just¡ Greengrass.¡±
That got their attention. Ron perked up instantly. ¡°You¡¯re thinking about her?¡±
¡°Not like that,¡± Harry said quickly.
Ron gave him a knowing look. ¡°Riiight.¡±
Hermione, on the other hand, just looked intrigued. ¡°Did something happen?¡±
Harry hesitated. ¡°No, nothing happened. I just mean¡ she¡¯s not what I expected. She actually knows what she¡¯s doing, and she¡¯s¡ serious, but not in a bad way. I thought working with her would be a nightmare, but it¡¯s actually¡ alright.¡±
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Ron was grinning now. ¡°Didn¡¯t know you had a thing for serious, terrifying girls, mate.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t have a thing,¡± Harry said, glaring.
¡°Uh-huh,¡± Ron said, looking far too pleased with himself. ¡°Right. And I hate chess.¡±
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but what was the point? Ron would keep teasing him no matter what he said.
Hermione, however, was considering something. ¡°Well, it¡¯s good that you two are getting along. This project is going to take months,you don¡¯t want to be stuck working with someone you can¡¯t talk to.¡±
Harry nodded, but Ron just smirked at him. ¡°Getting along, huh? Sounds like more than that.¡±
Harry shook his head. ¡°Forget I said anything.¡±
¡°Oh, not a chance,¡± Ron said.
They climbed through the portrait hole into the common room. A few second-years were playing a game of Exploding Snap near the fire, and some seventh-years were deep in discussion over a pile of books.
Ron stretched with a yawn. ¡°Well, at least we survived another day.¡±
Hermione grabbed her books and stood. ¡°I¡¯m going to the library. If I don¡¯t figure out this translation, it¡¯ll drive me mad.¡±
Ron flopped onto the couch. ¡°Yeah, yeah, go do your nerd stuff.¡±
She rolled her eyes and left.
Harry sat down too, but his mind was still turning over the conversation.
He didn¡¯t have a thing for Greengrass. Obviously.
So why was she still on his mind?
Thursday came fast, dragging them through a grueling Herbology lesson where they spent an hour wrestling stubborn Venomous Tentacula into their pots. By the time it was over, everyone was sweaty, dirt-streaked, and more than ready to escape the humid greenhouses. They barely had time to wolf down breakfast in the Great Hall before heading upstairs for their next class,Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione slid into their usual seats just as the heavy thump-thump of Moody¡¯s wooden leg echoed through the corridor. The door swung open with a creak, and he strode inside.
¡°Last time,¡± he said, ¡°we had a conversation about the real danger that lurks at you.¡± He let the words hang, pacing slowly between the desks. ¡°What¡¯s out there doesn¡¯t care about rules. It doesn¡¯t care how old you are, how smart you are.¡±
Moody stopped pacing and turned to face them, his magical eye spinning before settling dead center on the class.
¡°For the first hour of this double period, we¡¯re gonna have a little chat,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m gonna tell you some stories,real ones, from my time as an Auror. And I¡¯m gonna ask you some questions. You know why?¡±
He let the question hang for a second, then barked out, ¡°Because most of you have no damn clue what it¡¯s like to face the Dark Arts. And that¡¯s not an insult,it¡¯s a fact. And honestly? I hope you never have to. But my job isn¡¯t to hope. It¡¯s to prepare you.¡±
His fingers drummed once against his temple. ¡°And that starts here. Not with a wand. Not with spells. But with what¡¯s in your head. If your brain freezes up when it matters, it doesn¡¯t matter how good you are with a wand, you¡¯ll already be dead.¡±
Moody let his words sit for a beat, scanning the classroom like he was taking mental notes on every single reaction. Nobody spoke. Even the Slytherins who usually had something snide to say were quiet.
Then he grunted. ¡°Good. You¡¯re listening.¡±
He shifted his weight, the wooden leg thudding against the floor. ¡°Now, let¡¯s talk about choices. Real ones. The ones that make or break you. The ones you don¡¯t get to take back.¡±
He cracked his knuckles, then rolled his shoulders like he was gearing up for something. ¡°First story. Happened years ago,before some of you were even born. There was a raid planned on a suspected Death Eater hideout. Small group, just four of us, but we had intel that this was a big one. A nest of ¡®em. Could¡¯ve ended the war right there. Only problem?¡± He paused, then smirked. ¡°We weren¡¯t the only ones in that house.¡±
A few students leaned forward.
¡°There was a family inside. Didn¡¯t know what was going on. Didn¡¯t even know they were harboring Death Eaters. Thought they were just renting out rooms to a few ¡®nice, quiet gentlemen.¡¯¡± Moody let out a dry chuckle. ¡°They were gonna die, either way. If we went in wands blazing, they¡¯d be caught in the crossfire. If we let the Death Eaters know we were onto them, they¡¯d kill the family first just to cover their tracks.¡±
His eye snapped to Hermione. ¡°So, Granger. What do you do?¡±
Hermione sat up straighter, her fingers twitching. ¡°I¡¯d try to get the family out first. Get them somewhere safe.¡±
Moody let out a sharp bark of laughter. ¡°Of course you would. That¡¯s what a decent person would do. And if we¡¯d had time, maybe we would¡¯ve. But we didn¡¯t. It was a matter of minutes before they caught on that we were coming.¡±
He turned his head slightly. ¡°Anyone else?¡±
The room was silent. Then, Blaise Zabini raised a hand lazily. ¡°I mean¡ you let them die, don¡¯t you?¡±
A few heads snapped toward him, and Pansy Parkinson smacked his arm. ¡°Zabini, Merlin,¡±
But Moody grinned. ¡°Smart answer. Cold. But smart. And wrong.¡±
Zabini¡¯s smirk faltered. ¡°What?¡±
Moody stepped closer. ¡°You think that¡¯s the right answer, because it¡¯s the logical one, yeah? Sacrifice a few to save more. Good numbers, clean outcome. But that¡¯s not the job. The job is to outthink the bastards who set up these choices in the first place. You don¡¯t play their game,you break the damn board.¡±
Blaise frowned, clearly trying to figure out where he¡¯d gone wrong.
Moody turned away. ¡°We rigged the house. Confunded the family so they wandered out, all dazed and lost, before the first spell was even fired. The Death Eaters were so busy wondering what the hell was happening, they didn¡¯t see us coming. That¡¯s how you do it. That¡¯s how you win.¡±
He crossed his arms. ¡°The lesson? There¡¯s always another way. If someone puts you in a position where both choices are shit, find a third one. If you can¡¯t, make one.¡±
The room was dead quiet. Even Malfoy was sitting up, watching Moody carefully.
Then Moody¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°But not every choice has a way out.¡±
He shifted his stance, cracking his neck. ¡°Now let¡¯s talk about a different kind of decision. One that¡¯s not about being clever. One that¡¯s just plain ugly.¡±
He exhaled through his nose. ¡°I had a partner once. Good Auror. Smart. Quick. We spent six months undercover trying to get into a Dark wizard ring, the kind that wasn¡¯t just running their mouths but doing things. Curses so dark they¡¯d turn your stomach. We got in. Spent months earning their trust. I watched him sit across from monsters, laugh at their jokes, drink with them. And then one night¡ they found him out.¡±
Moody let those words settle before continuing. ¡°I was right there. Could¡¯ve stepped in, blown my own cover, started a fight. Maybe we would¡¯ve gotten out. Maybe we would¡¯ve both died. But I didn¡¯t.¡± His normal eye bored into the class. ¡°I watched them take him.¡±
A slow, sickening realization spread through the room.
Daphne Greengrass was the one to speak. ¡°You just let them?¡±
¡°Yeah.¡±
Zabini, still frowning from before, leaned forward. ¡°But you..¡±
¡°I know what I did,¡± Moody cut him off. ¡°And I know what came of it. Because of the intel I got after, we took out the entire ring. Twenty-six Dark wizards, all in one night. But that only happened because my partner stayed quiet when they took him. Because he knew the job.¡±
Silence.
Then, Ron spoke, his voice tight. ¡°So what, you¡¯re saying we should just let people die? Just¡ sit back and watch?¡±
Moody turned his head toward Ron, and for the first time that day, there was something almost amused in his expression. ¡°Oh, Weasley. You¡¯re one of those, aren¡¯t you?¡±
Ron blinked. ¡°What?¡±
¡°In the Auror department,¡± Moody said, ¡°we got a name for people like you. Morons.¡±
A stunned beat of silence. Then, laughter,sharp, awkward, disbelieving.
Ron¡¯s ears went red. ¡°Oi,¡±
Moody grinned, but it wasn¡¯t a friendly one. ¡°The idealists. The ones who think they¡¯re gonna save everyone. Who act with their hearts instead of their heads. They beat that out of you quick in training. And if you¡¯re really unlucky? You don¡¯t learn until it gets you killed.¡±
Ron scowled. ¡°That¡¯s stupid. You can¡¯t just..¡±
Moody¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°You ever seen someone die, Weasley?¡±
The room froze.
Ron¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°No.¡±
¡°Then shut up.¡±
Ron went rigid, his hands curling into fists, but Moody was already moving on.
¡°I¡¯m not saying don¡¯t fight for people. I¡¯m saying know the job. The job means sacrifice. It means trusting the people next to you to do theirs, even if that means dying for it. Every Auror is trained. Every Auror knows the risks. The second you think your feelings matter more than the mission, you don¡¯t just kill yourself, you kill the people depending on you. You wreck years of work. You get civilians killed because you couldn¡¯t handle the idea of losing one person.¡±
Moody exhaled, running a hand down his face. ¡°This isn¡¯t about being heartless. It¡¯s about being practical. You do what needs to be done so other people, the ones who don¡¯t even know you exist, get to live their lives in peace. If you¡¯re not ready to make that choice, then don¡¯t become an Auror.¡±
Nobody spoke.
Moody let out a breath, then gave Ron a short nod. ¡°Alright, Weasley. That was rough. But better you hear it now than when it¡¯s too late.¡±
Ron didn¡¯t answer, just stared at his desk, his ears still red.
Moody checked his watch, then straightened. ¡°That¡¯s an hour. You lot have fifteen minutes. Get some air, clear your heads,next half¡¯s gonna be more practical.¡±
The corridor outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was packed with students, all of them talking in low, uneasy voices. Some had already broken off into small groups, whispering about Moody¡¯s lesson, while others just stood there, like they were still trying to process what they¡¯d heard. Harry barely heard any of it. His mind was still stuck in that classroom.
It was brutal. No way around that. But part of him,maybe a bigger part than he wanted to admit, felt like Moody was right. Not nice, not fair, but right. He wondered what Dumbledore would say about it. Probably something wise and kind and completely at odds with what Moody had drilled into them for the last hour.
Ron walked beside him, hands stuffed in his pockets, quiet for once. They got halfway down the corridor before he finally spoke.
¡°What do you think?¡±
Harry blinked. ¡°About what?¡±
Ron gave him a flat look. ¡°Moody. The stuff he said.¡±
Harry let out a breath, shaking his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± And he didn¡¯t. ¡°In a perfect world, none of that would matter. We wouldn¡¯t have to make choices like that.¡± He hesitated. ¡°But it¡¯s not a perfect world, is it?¡±
Ron didn¡¯t answer, just waited.
Harry shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know what the right answer is. And I¡¯m not sure I want to.¡±
That made Ron stop walking. Harry went a few more steps before realizing and turned back. Ron was watching him, serious now.
¡°You should know,¡± Ron said. ¡°You were attacked. You survived. What did you feel back then?¡±
Harry hesitated.
Ron kept going. ¡°We didn¡¯t ask after the Cup. Didn¡¯t want to push you. But now¡¡± He ran a hand through his hair. ¡°Now it might actually be useful.¡±
Harry¡¯s stomach twisted. His mind yanked him straight back to the forest. The crunch of branches, the firelight behind him, the snap of a spell hitting bark inches from his head. Selwyn¡¯s wand moving too fast.
But the weird thing? He hadn¡¯t really felt anything. No time for fear, no time for weighing options. Just instincts, adrenaline, his body moving before his brain even caught up.
¡°I didn¡¯t think,¡± Harry said finally. ¡°I didn¡¯t have time to. It wasn¡¯t some big choice. It was just,¡± He tried to find the right words. ¡°Reacting. Moving. It wasn¡¯t like a duel or a lesson. It was¡¡±
¡°Survival,¡± Ron finished.
Harry nodded.
Ron exhaled slowly, staring past Harry at nothing. ¡°Yeah,¡± he muttered. ¡°I guess that¡¯s the difference, isn¡¯t it?¡±
Harry wasn¡¯t sure what he meant, and Ron didn¡¯t explain.
Then the door creaked open, and Moody¡¯s voice cut through the chatter.
¡°Break¡¯s over. Get back in here.¡±
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance.
Then, without a word, they headed inside.
The door slammed shut the second the last student stepped inside.
The classroom looked different. Bigger than before. The tables had been shoved against the walls, leaving nothing but open space. Moody stood in the middle, his wand already out, watching them with that eerie, spinning eye.
Nobody spoke. Everyone had a bad feeling about this.
¡°Wands out,¡± Moody said. ¡°Form a circle. Move.¡±
There was a pause, just half a second of hesitation.
CRACK!
A spell whipped through the air and smacked Seamus right in the shoulder.
¡°OW! Bloody..¡± Seamus yelped, stumbling back, rubbing his arm.
Moody¡¯s lips curled into something that wasn¡¯t quite a grin. ¡°Too slow, Finnigan.¡±
The class scrambled into place after that. Wands out. Circle formed.
Moody took his time looking them over, that magical eye spinning wildly before settling on each of them, one by one. Harry gripped his wand tighter.
¡°This isn¡¯t a duel,¡± Moody said, voice rough. ¡°No rules, no turns, no nonsense. You don¡¯t wait to be attacked. You react. And right now? Most of you don¡¯t have a damn clue how to do that.¡±
The tension in the room thickened.
Moody lifted his wand.
¡°I¡¯m gonna cast,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re gonna move.¡±
No one had time to think before,
CRACK!
A stinging hex shot toward Neville. He barely flinched before it hit him in the arm. He yelped, grabbing at his sleeve.
CRACK!
Pansy Parkinson screamed as she caught one in the ribs.
The room erupted into motion.
Moody didn¡¯t stop. He fired again, and again, his wand moving faster than they could track. The class was panicking, ducking wildly, tripping over their own feet. Someone crashed into Dean. Crabbe and Goyle backed into the wall. Daphne Greengrass actually ran for cover, diving behind a desk.
It was chaos.
Harry twisted away just in time to dodge a hex aimed at his leg. His heart was hammering. Moody wasn¡¯t giving them a chance to think. The second he stopped moving, another spell would hit him, so he kept moving.
Ron wasn¡¯t so lucky.
CRACK!
¡°OW!¡± Ron clutched his arm, wincing. ¡°WHAT THE HELL?!¡±
Moody snorted. ¡°You planning to ask a Death Eater to stop next time?¡±
Ron muttered something that sounded like maybe.
Moody fired again.
Ron dodged.
Barely.
Moody nodded approvingly.
¡°Better.¡±
Harry had had just about enough of this. The constant hexes, the way Moody kept grinning like this was funny. He wasn¡¯t even teaching them anything, he was just picking them off, waiting to see who would crack first.
And then Moody¡¯s wand swung toward him.
Harry didn¡¯t think. He moved.
He twisted out of the way, the hex whipping past his ear, and before his feet had even hit the ground properly, he fired back.
¡°Expelliarmus!¡±
Moody blocked it effortlessly. Didn¡¯t even flinch. And then, like Harry had just made his whole day, he grinned. Wide. Wild.
¡°Oh, finally,¡± he growled.
He whipped his wand, twice, fast as a whip crack.
Harry barely dodged, throwing himself onto the floor just as the spells sizzled through the air where he¡¯d been standing. His elbow hit the stone hard, but he didn¡¯t stop. He rolled onto his side and fired again.
¡°Expelliarmus!¡±
Moody blocked that one too, but this time, he laughed. Loud, rough, and just a little too pleased.
¡°Good job, Potter!¡±
And then, without warning, he spun and hurled a hex at Malfoy.
Malfoy yelped, jerking to the side just in time. But he didn¡¯t raise his wand. Didn¡¯t shoot anything back.
Moody stopped.
The room was silent except for everyone breathing like they¡¯d just run up the Astronomy Tower.
And then Moody barked out another laugh.
¡°Only Potter?¡± His magical eye whipped around the circle, taking in every stunned, winded student. ¡°ONLY POTTER USED HIS WAND? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!¡±
Nobody answered.
Moody let the silence stretch, watching them all like he was seeing straight through them.
Then, finally, he let out a rough breath and lowered his wand.
¡°I know you¡¯re confused,¡± he said. ¡°I did that on purpose.¡±
He took a slow step forward. The floorboards creaked under his weight, his wooden leg thunking against the stone.
¡°I wanted to see who¡¯d break first. Who¡¯d stop panicking. Who¡¯d stop playing prey and start fighting back.¡± His mouth twisted into something that wasn¡¯t quite a smile. ¡°I knew Potter would. He¡¯s been in real fights before. That changes a person. But the rest of you?¡± His eye spun again. ¡°You think ducking and dodging is gonna keep you alive?¡±
He let the question sit for a beat.
¡°You lot are fourteen,¡± he went on. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing. And that¡¯s normal. But listen to me. If someone throws a spell at you, you throw one back. You defend yourself.¡± He tapped his wand against his other hand. ¡°Because let me tell you something,your enemy isn¡¯t gonna stop just because you¡¯re scared. He¡¯s not gonna wait for you to get yourself together. And he sure as hell isn¡¯t gonna be impressed if you duck and do nothing else.¡±
Draco swallowed. Neville shifted uneasily.
Moody gave a sharp nod. ¡°We¡¯ll fix that. You¡¯re in my class. You¡¯ll learn.¡± He flicked his wand toward the door. ¡°That¡¯s enough for today. Get outta here.¡±
Nobody moved at first.
Then, slowly, they started peeling away, muttering under their breaths, rubbing their arms where they¡¯d been hit.
I am five chapters (25k words total) ahead on my Patreon. Check it if you are interested.
Chapter 15
The Great Hall was packed, students crammed onto the benches, voices echoing off the high stone walls. Golden plates overflowed with food, and the smell of roast beef and fresh bread filled the air. But at the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron, and Hermione weren¡¯t eating much. Their heads were still back in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
Moody¡¯s lesson had been different. Last year, Professor Lupin had given them knowledge,how to recognize threats, how to handle magical creatures, how to think through a problem. But Moody? Moody wasn¡¯t interested in thinking. He wanted them to act. He wanted to see what they did when they weren¡¯t given time to think at all.
The stinging hexes still burned, even though Madam Pomfrey¡¯s remedies had dulled the worst of it. Some students had taken more hits than others,Seamus was rubbing his shoulder, and Neville looked like he wasn¡¯t sure if he should be impressed or terrified. A few Slytherins, sitting further down the table, were muttering under their breath, throwing glares at the Gryffindors like this was somehow their fault. Malfoy, for once, wasn¡¯t saying much.
Ron flexed his arm, still wincing. ¡°That wasn¡¯t a lesson. That was an ambush.¡±
Hermione, who had barely touched her food, was lost in thought. ¡°It was¡ unusual,¡± she admitted. ¡°But it made sense, in a way. It wasn¡¯t just about spells. It was about instincts. He wanted to see if we could react before we even realized what was happening.¡±
Harry nodded. Moody had been watching them the entire time, studying them as much as teaching. And he wasn¡¯t testing their spellwork. He was testing them.
Across the table, Fred and George leaned in, clearly eavesdropping. ¡°Ah, so you¡¯ve had your first taste of Mad-Eye,¡± George said, grinning.
Fred grabbed a roll and bit into it. ¡°What¡¯d he do? Hit you with a couple of hexes? Make you duel?¡±
Ron gawked at him. ¡°A couple? He spent an hour throwing spells at us just to see if we¡¯d break!¡±
Fred smirked. ¡°And they say fourth-years have it easy.¡±
Ron stared. ¡°Easy?¡±
George laughed. ¡°You think that was bad? Our lessons are worse.¡±
¡°Way worse,¡± Fred agreed. ¡°Moody¡¯s got a real soft spot for the upper years. Last week, he put us through a maze. A bloody maze. Spells flying everywhere, no idea what¡¯s coming next. Said it was ¡®realistic.¡¯¡±
George nodded. ¡°And the week before that, he made us disarm him.¡±
Harry frowned. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound too bad.¡±
Fred barked a laugh. ¡°Yeah? Try disarming a trained Auror who fights dirty.¡±
George shuddered. ¡°I still have bruises.¡±
Ron slumped back against the bench. ¡°Brilliant. So it gets worse.¡±
Fred clapped him on the back. ¡°Oh, much worse.¡±
The Great Hall was as loud as ever, but as the Gryffindors settled into lunch, the excitement over Moody¡¯s lesson started fading into background chatter. But just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione were starting to relax, another conversation picked up around them.
It started at the far end of the table, but soon enough, more students were turning their heads. A few Ravenclaws were glancing over. Even some Hufflepuffs seemed to be listening in.
Quidditch.
And not just the matches,the pitch itself.
¡°You¡¯re joking,¡± Katie Bell said, pushing her plate aside. ¡°They¡¯re actually shutting down the pitch?¡±
Alicia Spinnet nodded, arms crossed. ¡°McGonagall just told us. Full stop. No training, no flying, nothing.¡±
¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± Angelina Johnson said. ¡°We knew the matches were canceled, but no one said anything about stopping practice.¡±
Fred and George had been grinning before, still amused by Ron¡¯s suffering, but at this, they both scowled.
¡°They can¡¯t do that,¡± Fred said.
¡°Well, they can,¡± George corrected. ¡°And they did.¡±
Ron, who had been half-listening while stuffing his face, stopped mid-bite. ¡°Wait, so we can¡¯t even use the pitch at all?¡±
¡°Nope,¡± Alicia said, looking just as annoyed as the others. ¡°They¡¯re using it for the Tournament, setting things up for the tasks. Apparently, they need time to,¡± She waved her hands vaguely. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Do whatever the hell they¡¯re doing.¡±
¡°They don¡¯t need all year to set up,¡± Katie argued. ¡°They could let us fly when nothing¡¯s happening.¡±
Ginny, who had been quiet up until now, frowned. ¡°It¡¯s not just us, though, is it? No one gets to use it. Not Gryffindor, not Hufflepuff, not even Slytherin.¡±
¡°Yeah, but that doesn¡¯t make it fair,¡± Angelina shot back. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to be training for next year! Do they expect us to just sit around and lose all our practice?¡±
There were murmurs of agreement from the Gryffindor team, and from a few other students as well. Even some of the Ravenclaws at the next table looked annoyed.
Harry hadn¡¯t said anything yet, but he could feel the frustration building inside him too. Flying wasn¡¯t just about Quidditch. It was freedom. It was something that made Hogwarts feel like home. The idea of not being able to fly at all, not even for fun, didn¡¯t sit right.
¡°So what do we do?¡± Katie asked.
¡°Petition?¡± Alicia suggested. ¡°Maybe if enough students complain,¡±
Fred snorted. ¡°Yeah, because McGonagall¡¯s really going to change her mind because we whine about it.¡±
¡°She might,¡± George said, then shrugged. ¡°Or she¡¯ll just tell us to suck it up and focus on our studies.¡±
There was a beat of silence.
Then Ron sighed, shoving a piece of bread into his mouth. ¡°We¡¯re doomed.¡±
The frustration over Quidditch carried through the rest of lunch, but there wasn¡¯t much anyone could do. The pitch was off-limits, and that was that. Even Fred and George, who were usually the first to scheme up some kind of workaround, had nothing. Eventually, people gave up complaining and just ate.
Harry pushed his plate away and stood up. ¡°I¡¯m heading to the library.¡±
Ron raised an eyebrow. ¡°What for? We don¡¯t have anything due, do we?¡±
Harry shook his head. ¡°No, I just¡ I figured I should finally start working on breaking that cipher. The books from Sirius.¡±
Hermione¡¯s face lit up with interest. ¡°Oh! That¡¯s a good idea. It might take a while to even figure out the structure.¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± Harry said, adjusting his bag. ¡°No point putting it off any longer.¡±
Ron smirked. ¡°Well, good luck with that. See you later in Divination.¡±
Hermione tucked a loose curl behind her ear as she stacked her notes. ¡°I¡¯ve got Ancient Runes. It¡¯s getting harder, but I actually really like it.¡±
Harry smiled. ¡°Well, have fun with that. See you both later.¡±
He slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way toward the doors, weaving through the crowded Great Hall. The noise of lunchtime chatter faded behind him as he stepped out into the quieter corridors, making his way up toward the library.
The library was quiet after lunch, the way it always was. Most students were either still in the Great Hall or off enjoying their free period. The only ones here were the usual Ravenclaws, buried in books, and a few Hufflepuffs trying to get a head start on homework.
Harry found a table near the back, dropped his bag onto the chair, and pulled out the books from Sirius.
¡°Broken Body.¡± ¡°Broken Mind.¡±
He flipped one open.
Yeah. Still nonsense.
The words shifted as he looked at them, twisting and rearranging like they were alive. It wasn¡¯t a normal cipher. Even just staring at the page too long made his head hurt.
Harry frowned. He had no clue where to start. He needed help.
With a sigh, he shut the book and stood up, making his way to the towering shelves at the front of the library.
Madam Pince was there, sorting a pile of books with the same look of sharp concentration she always had, like any moment someone might try to deface them.
Harry hesitated. She wasn¡¯t exactly known for being helpful. But she did know more about books than anyone else.
Taking a breath, he stepped forward. ¡°Er,Madam Pince?¡±
She looked up immediately, her eyes locking onto him like he¡¯d been caught sneaking chocolate into the Restricted Section.
¡°What?¡±
Harry shifted the book in his hands. ¡°I was wondering if you had anything on ciphers.¡±
She looked down to book he was holding, and before Harry could react, she held out her hand. ¡°May I?¡±
Harry hesitated, but then handed it over.
She flipped it open, scanning the page. Her expression didn¡¯t change at first. Then, slowly, the corners of her mouth tugged up in something that might¡¯ve been a smile.
She closed the book and handed it back. ¡°You¡¯ll need to learn Arithmancy first.¡±
Harry blinked. ¡°Wait,what?¡±
She turned and started toward the shelves, muttering to herself as she ran a finger along the spines.
A second later, she pulled out a thick book and shoved it into his hands.
¡°Introduction to Arithmantic Theory.¡±
Harry stared at it, then back at her. ¡°Hold on,why do I need Arithmancy?¡±
She crossed her arms. ¡°That book isn¡¯t written in an ordinary cipher. It¡¯s encoded using Arithmantic principles,numerical encryption, magical sequencing. If you don¡¯t understand Arithmancy, you won¡¯t crack it.¡±
Harry frowned. ¡°So I have to learn an entire subject just to read them?¡±
Madam Pince actually looked amused. ¡°Yes.¡±
Then, without another word, she turned back to her work, leaving Harry standing there, still holding the books.
Brilliant.
With a sigh, he trudged back to his table and cracked open the Arithmancy book.
The first few pages weren¡¯t too bad. It talked about magical numbers, how they influenced spells, how old wizards used numerology. But then it got into equations and sequences that made his head ache.
He rubbed his temples. ¡°Great. Should¡¯ve paid more attention in Muggle maths.¡±
Harry sighed and flipped back to the first page of Introduction to Arithmantic Theory, determined to make sense of it.
Chapter One: The Magical Properties of Numbers
¡°Magic is built upon patterns. Words shape it, wands direct it, but numbers define its structure. Each number carries magical significance, influencing spells, enchantments, and even prophecy. By understanding these patterns, a wizard may harness magic in its purest form,through calculation, rather than chance.¡±
Harry frowned. That sounded¡ complicated. He skipped ahead.
¡°The foundation of Arithmancy is the numerical assignment of letters, a practice known as numerical substitution. This system, created by early magical scholars, allows wizards to encode messages, strengthen spells, and analyze magical texts.¡±
That was more like it. Harry grabbed a scrap of parchment and copied down the chart from the book:
Numerical Substitution System:
A = 1, B = 2, C = 3, D = 4, E = 5, F = 6¡ all the way to Z = 26.
Simple enough. It was just the alphabet with numbers.
Then the book took it a step further.
¡°In traditional Arithmantic ciphers, words are converted into numbers, and these numbers can then be rearranged or manipulated to conceal their original meaning. For example, the word ¡®MAGIC¡¯ would be encoded as follows:¡±
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
M = 13
A = 1
G = 7
I = 9
C = 3
¡°This sequence, 13-1-7-9-3, can then be shifted, reversed, or mathematically altered to create more complex encryptions.¡±
Harry rubbed his chin. The letters turned into numbers, and then those numbers could be scrambled into something harder to crack.
He turned back to Broken Mind and scanned the first line again. The letters still danced across the page, shifting and rearranging, but now he had something to work with.
He copied down the first few words onto his parchment, carefully matching each letter with its corresponding number. It took longer than he expected,his quill scratched loudly against the quiet hum of the library,but eventually, he had a string of numbers written out. He focused only on the first word though.
19 - 5 - 5 - 11 - 5 - 18
Harry frowned.
He flipped back to Introduction to Arithmantic Theory and skimmed ahead.
¡°The first step in decoding an Arithmantic encryption is recognizing the pattern used in its transformation. Many ciphers rely on number shifts,simple additions or subtractions to disguise the original values. For example, the phrase ¡®HELP¡¯ encoded with a +2 shift would read:¡±
H ¡ú J (8+2=10)
E ¡ú G (5+2=7)
L ¡ú N (12+2=14)
P ¡ú R (16+2=18)
¡°Reversing this process would allow a wizard to uncover the original message.¡±
He stared down at his numbers. 19 - 5 - 5 - 11 - 5 - 18. What if these had been shifted like in the example? Maybe if he subtracted a number¡
He grabbed another piece of parchment and wrote:
19 - 5 - 5 - 11 - 5 - 18 (original numbers)
17 - 3 - 3 - 9 - 3 - 16 (subtracting 2)
Matching them back to the alphabet¡
Q - C - C - I - C - P
Nothing.
Harry groaned and dropped his head onto the table. ¡°This is impossible.¡±
A few nearby Ravenclaws turned to glare at him.
Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. It wasn¡¯t that this was hard, it was just slow. The book was full of techniques, but figuring out which one had been used on Broken Mind was going to take forever.
Still, he couldn¡¯t stop now.
Taking a deep breath, he picked up his quill and kept going. If this book really held something important, then he was going to break it.
Even if it took all year.
After four straight hours of number crunching, shifting sequences, and flipping through pages, Harry had managed to translate exactly one sentence.
¡°To the seeker of knowledge, the mind is the most fragile thing to break.¡±
He let out a breathless laugh. No kidding. His own mind felt like it was hanging on by a thread.
He leaned back, stretching out his stiff fingers. He hadn¡¯t even realized how much time had passed, but now the library was dimmer, the golden light from the windows fading as the afternoon slipped toward evening.
He checked his watch.
Five minutes until Divination.
Harry groaned. He¡¯d almost rather stay here and keep smashing his head against numbers than sit through another one of Trelawney¡¯s ridiculous predictions.
But rules were rules.
With a sigh, he shoved his notes into his bag, tucked both books away, and stood up, rolling his stiff shoulders. He might¡¯ve only cracked one sentence, but it was progress.
And next time, he¡¯d go further.
He had to.
He trudged up the winding stairs to the North Tower, the air growing warmer the closer he got to the trapdoor.
Ron was already climbing up ahead of him. ¡°You look awful,¡± he muttered as Harry hauled himself through the trapdoor.
¡°Feel worse,¡± Harry grumbled.
Trelawney¡¯s classroom was just as stuffy and dim as ever. Overhead, dozens of teacups rattled softly on their shelves, and the usual haze of perfumed smoke curled through the air.
Trelawney herself sat in her oversized armchair, her shawls draped dramatically around her. She peered at them through her enormous glasses, her voice misty as ever. ¡°Ah, my dear children¡ The fates have gathered you here once more¡¡±
Ron shot Harry a look. Here we go.
The class settled onto the squashy armchairs and poufs, a few students still yawning from lunch. Parvati and Lavender were whispering excitedly, flipping through Unfogging the Future like it was the most thrilling book ever written. Dean and Seamus were quietly making bets on who would get the worst prediction today.
Trelawney raised a delicate hand. ¡°Today, we shall peer beyond the veil of the present¡ into the mists of the future¡ through the most ancient and powerful of all mystical arts¡ the Tarot.¡±
There was a collective groan from the back of the room.
Harry knew he was going to snap eventually. It was only the second lesson of the year, and he was already done with it.
He had no clue how he managed to sit through the entire class. His brain was still tangled up with numbers, shifting sequences, and ciphers. Every time Trelawney droned on about the mists of fate or the ever-turning wheel of destiny, all Harry could think about was number shifts and substitution patterns.
By the time the lesson finally ended, he barely heard Trelawney¡¯s parting words. He grabbed his bag, muttered something to Ron about meeting him in the common room later, and made a beeline for the door.
Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow, he¡¯d crack more of that book.
The Gryffindor common room was warm and buzzing with life,laughter, the crackle of the fire, the occasional boom from a game of Exploding Snap.
Harry slumped back in an armchair, staring blankly at the ceiling. His brain felt fried. Hours of breaking his head over Arithmancy, Moody¡¯s lessons still rattling around in his skull, and now Divination on top of it all.
Sirius would¡¯ve had a field day. James Potter¡¯s son, voluntarily spending hours in the library? Tragic.
Harry smirked to himself. Yeah, well. Maybe he was losing it.
And then,
¡°Oh, brilliant! Testing your latest disaster on first-years now?¡±
Hermione¡¯s voice cut through the noise, sharp and furious.
Harry turned his head just in time to see Fred and George looking very pleased with themselves, while two first-years held something purple and smoking slightly.
Well. This was about to be entertaining.
Hermione had her hands on her hips, her foot tapping like she was about to explode. The Weasley twins, in contrast, looked immensely pleased with themselves.
¡°This is completely irresponsible,¡± Hermione snapped, jabbing a finger at the two terrified first-years clutching what looked like half-melted purple toffees. ¡°They¡¯re eleven! What if something went wrong? What if,¡±
Fred slung an arm around one of the kids. ¡°Relax, Hermione. We had a control group.¡±
George grinned. ¡°And look, no permanent damage!¡±
The first-years didn¡¯t look reassured. One of them,the shorter one, with wide eyes,opened his mouth, and a bubble the size of a Quaffle floated out instead of words.
Hermione lost it.
¡°OH,FOR,MERLIN¡¯S SAKE! You can¡¯t just go experimenting on random students!¡±
Fred tsked. ¡°It¡¯s not random. We carefully select our volunteers.¡±
George nodded solemnly. ¡°Rigorous screening process. Only the bravest make the cut.¡±
¡°You bribed them with chocolate!¡± Hermione practically screeched.
The shorter first-year, still looking mildly horrified, gave a hesitant thumbs-up.
Harry, watching from his armchair, bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He was way too tired to get in the middle of this.
Ron, however, was not. ¡°Look, Hermione, it¡¯s not that bad,¡±
She rounded on him so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. ¡°Not that bad?! Ron, their tongues could have fallen off!¡±
George considered that. ¡°Oh, good idea for next time,¡±
¡°NO!¡±
That did it. The entire common room was watching now, students grinning behind their hands, waiting to see if Hermione would actually explode.
Fred sighed dramatically. ¡°Fine, fine. We¡¯ll stop testing on first-years.¡±
George clapped the nearest kid on the back. ¡°You¡¯re free to go, soldier.¡±
The kid opened his mouth to say something. Another bubble popped out.
Hermione looked murderous.
¡°I¡¯ll kill you both,¡± she said, deadly calm.
Fred and George exchanged a glance, nodded, then,
BOLTED.
They were halfway up the boys¡¯ staircase before Hermione even moved.
¡°GET BACK HERE!¡±
The portrait hole slammed as she took off after them.
There was a stunned silence.
Then Ron sat down next to Harry, grabbed a Chocolate Frog from his pocket, and unwrapped it casually.
¡°So,¡± he said, popping it in his mouth. ¡°Library was that bad, huh?¡±
Harry laughed instead of answering, shaking his head. Ron had a way of summing things up in the most ridiculous way possible.
He leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out, and let his eyes wander around the common room. Across the way, Seamus and Dean were bickering over something near the fireplace. Nothing unusual there.
¡°I¡¯m telling you,¡± Seamus was saying, exasperated, ¡°you can¡¯t just make up a dream and expect her to buy it!¡±
Dean scoffed. ¡°Mate, that¡¯s exactly what I did, and she loved it.¡±
Harry perked up. ¡°What, Trelawney?¡±
Dean turned toward them, grinning. ¡°Oh yeah. Whole thing was nonsense, but I made it sound mystical,all vague and tragic.¡± He threw his hands up dramatically. ¡°¡®A silver wolf stood at the edge of a great abyss, howling as the stars fell around him. The moon cracked like glass. And then¡ darkness.¡¯¡±
Seamus groaned. ¡°I can¡¯t believe she ate that up.¡±
¡°She nearly cried,¡± Dean said smugly. ¡°Said I had ¡®the soul of a poet touched by the void.¡¯¡±
Ron let out a wheezing laugh. ¡°Touched by the void? Bloody hell, Dean, you might actually be her favorite now.¡±
Dean smirked. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be hard. She already thinks Harry¡¯s cursed.¡±
Harry snorted. ¡°Right, because I needed another person convinced I¡¯m doomed.¡±
Seamus flopped into the chair next to them, looking tired. ¡°I should¡¯ve made something up. Instead, I told her I dreamed about missing breakfast, and she said it was ¡®a sign of deep personal loss.¡¯¡±
Ron wiped a tear from his eye. ¡°Well, to be fair, you do get cranky when you don¡¯t eat.¡±
Seamus shot him a look. ¡°Not the point.¡±
Dean plopped down on the arm of the couch. ¡°The point is, she doesn¡¯t care what we dream, as long as we make it sound dramatic.¡± He gestured at Harry. ¡°Next time she asks, just tell her you saw a shadowy figure standing in the distance, watching you. Bonus points if you say he whispered your name.¡±
Harry smirked. ¡°Oh yeah, I¡¯ll get right on that.¡±
Ron stretched out, kicking his feet onto the table. ¡°Y¡¯know, if we have to suffer through this class, we might as well have fun with it.¡±
Dean grinned. ¡°Exactly what I¡¯m saying.¡±
Seamus shook his head. ¡°You lot are the reason she thinks we have deep, tortured souls.¡±
Ron waggled his eyebrows. ¡°Can¡¯t help being mysterious.¡±
Harry laughed again, finally feeling a little lighter after the long, exhausting day. Maybe Divination wasn¡¯t completely useless. At least it gave them something to laugh about later.
The morning air was crisp, cool enough that Harry could see his breath if he exhaled hard enough. The sky was a soft, pale blue, streaked with hints of gold where the sun was finally making its way up over the castle. Most students were still inside, dragging themselves through breakfast or squeezing in some last-minute homework before classes. But Harry? He needed air.
The first week of term wasn¡¯t even over, and he already felt like he¡¯d done more work than the whole of last year. Between Moody¡¯s lessons, Snape¡¯s stupid project, his slow battle with the cipher, and everything else, his brain was starting to feel stretched thin. A walk seemed like the best way to clear it.
He made his way toward the lake, kicking at a stray pebble on the path, letting his thoughts wander. It was nice. Just quiet.
Then he spotted a familiar flash of red hair ahead. Ginny, walking toward him from the opposite direction. She was wearing a deep green jumper under her cloak, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and dark boots that looked brand new.
Harry recognized them instantly.
His stomach did something weird,kind of like when you miss a step going downstairs,but he ignored it.
¡°Morning,¡± he said as they got closer.
Ginny nodded in greeting. ¡°You¡¯re up early.¡±
¡°So are you.¡±
She shrugged. ¡°Couldn¡¯t sleep much. Thought I¡¯d take a walk.¡±
Harry hesitated, then nodded toward her jumper. ¡°That, uh¡ that looks nice. The jumper. And the boots.¡±
Ginny glanced down like she¡¯d forgotten what she was wearing. ¡°Oh. Yeah, they¡¯re good. Warm.¡± She gave him a small smile. ¡°Mum was a little dramatic about it, though. Nearly had a fit when we all showed up at King¡¯s Cross in new clothes.¡±
Harry huffed a quiet laugh. He could picture it. Mrs. Weasley had been stubborn about accepting anything from him, but in the end, she hadn¡¯t won that argument. He hadn¡¯t done it to show off,just to help. And if it made things a little easier for them, then that was enough.
¡°Well,¡± Harry said, shoving his hands into his pockets. ¡°Glad you like them.¡±
Ginny hummed, then walked beside him for a moment before speaking again. ¡°Hey¡ can I ask you something?¡±
¡°Yeah, of course.¡±
She hesitated, like she wasn¡¯t sure how to say it. ¡°It¡¯s about Luna.¡±
That got Harry¡¯s attention. He turned to look at her properly. ¡°What about her?¡±
Ginny chewed the inside of her cheek. ¡°She¡¯s not doing great,¡± she admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t know what it is, but something¡¯s bothering her this year. She won¡¯t talk about it, though.¡±
Harry frowned. Luna had always been¡ well, Luna. Floating around in her own world, never seeming too bothered by what other people thought. It was hard to imagine her rattled by anything.
¡°You think something happened?¡± he asked.
¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Ginny exhaled, frustrated. ¡°I asked, but she just keeps saying she¡¯s fine. And she¡¯s Luna, so it¡¯s hard to tell when she actually means it and when she¡¯s just avoiding the question.¡±
Harry nodded, thinking. He hadn¡¯t spoken to Luna much since the train ride, but if something was wrong¡ well, he wasn¡¯t about to ignore it.
¡°I¡¯ll figure it out,¡± he promised.
Ginny looked at him for a second, then nodded. ¡°Thanks.¡±
They walked a little longer before heading back inside, the castle doors creaking open to the sound of students moving toward breakfast.
Harry figured he¡¯d deal with Luna later.
For now, he had Charms.
By the time Harry made it to the Charms classroom, most of the students were already there, chatting while they waited for Flitwick. Hermione was flipping through Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 and Ron was idly twirling his wand, looking around with interest.
Seamus was muttering something to Dean, who looked skeptical. ¡°No, I swear, it¡¯ll work this time,¡± Seamus insisted.
¡°Mate, the last time you said that, we nearly had to evacuate.¡±
Before Seamus could argue, Flitwick hopped onto his usual stack of books at the front of the room, clapping his hands. ¡°Right, everyone! Wands out,today¡¯s lesson is about control.¡±
Flitwick waved his wand, and a small chess piece floated up from his desk. It zipped around the room, darting between students before suddenly stopping in midair.
¡°Locomotor moves objects,¡± Flitwick said. ¡°Immobulus stops them in their tracks.¡± He let the chess piece drop into his hand. ¡°Pair up! One of you will move an object, the other will freeze it. Then switch. Accuracy matters,no freezing your partner by mistake.¡±
Seamus looked entirely too excited about this.
Ron was already pulling his chair closer to Harry¡¯s. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see if I¡¯m any better at stopping things than I am at catching them.¡±
Harry smirked. ¡°That bad, huh?¡±
Ron shrugged. ¡°Let¡¯s just say if this were Quidditch, I¡¯d be in the stands.¡±
They pushed their desks together, and Harry raised his wand. ¡°Locomotor!¡±
His chess piece wobbled, then shot into the air, spinning wildly. Ron tracked it with his wand, narrowing his eyes.
¡°Immobulus!¡±
Nothing happened. The piece kept zooming around like it had a mind of its own.
Ron swore under his breath and tried again. The spell hit,sort of. Instead of stopping the piece, it just slowed down like it was flying through pudding.
Harry snorted. ¡°Well, that¡¯s¡ something.¡±
Meanwhile, Hermione and Neville were already working like a well-oiled machine. Hermione¡¯s chess piece glided smoothly across the desk, and Neville froze it mid-move, looking shocked that he¡¯d actually pulled it off.
¡°Great job, Neville!¡± Hermione said.
Neville grinned.
Then Seamus¡¯s Immobulus went wide, missed his chess piece entirely, and froze Neville¡¯s sleeve to the desk.
Neville groaned. ¡°Of course.¡±
A few desks away, Malfoy was showing off, levitating two pieces at once just to prove he could. Pansy Parkinson clapped like he¡¯d just won a trophy. ¡°Amazing, Draco!¡±
Harry ignored him and refocused. He swapped places with Ron, now aiming his wand.
The chess piece wobbled and floated toward him. Harry waited, trying to time it just right.
¡°Immobulus!¡±
The piece stopped instantly, hanging in the air like it had been pinned there.
Ron blinked. ¡°Huh. That actually looked easy.¡±
Harry shrugged. ¡°Dunno. Just focused on it stopping, not just¡ blasting it.¡±
Ron frowned, raised his wand, and cast Immobulus again,this time, his own chess piece stopped mid-move. He grinned. ¡°Alright, I think I¡¯ve got it.¡±
The lesson went on, filled with more mishaps, Dean accidentally freezing his own foot, Lavender shrieking when her chess piece zoomed too close to her face, and Seamus, against all odds, managing to freeze something without setting it on fire.
The moment the bell rang, Ron stretched his arms over his head. ¡°Alright, fifteen minutes. I say we make the most of it.¡±
Seamus grinned. ¡°Exactly what I was thinking. Kitchen?¡±
Dean looked between them. ¡°You mean the kitchens kitchens?¡±
¡°Unless you know a different place to get food around here,¡± Seamus said.
Harry shrugged. He wasn¡¯t particularly hungry, but the idea of stretching his legs (and maybe sneaking something sweet) sounded better than sitting around waiting for the next lesson. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go.¡±
The four of them slipped out of the classroom and made their way down the corridor, dodging a group of second-years blocking the hallway.
¡°D¡¯you think they¡¯ve still got breakfast leftovers?¡± Ron asked as they made their way toward the passage behind the fruit bowl painting.
Seamus smirked. ¡°We¡¯re not after leftovers, mate. We¡¯re after cake.¡±
Ron¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Oh, good thinking.¡±
Harry reached out and tickled the pear on the painting. It squirmed before turning into a handle, and the portrait swung open. The moment they stepped inside, the warm, buttery smell of fresh pastries hit them.
A tiny elf in a tea towel practically skidded to a stop in front of them. ¡°Sirs are hungry?¡±
Seamus grinned. ¡°Starving.¡±
Within seconds, plates of sweet cake, muffins, and something covered in chocolate were shoved into their hands. Ron grabbed a piece of treacle tart, looking like he¡¯d been reunited with an old friend.
¡°Now this is a proper break,¡± he mumbled through a mouthful.
Harry snorted, already halfway through a piece of sponge cake.
They barely had time to enjoy it before the bell rang again.
Dean checked his watch. ¡°Reckon Flitwick¡¯ll notice if we¡¯re chewing in class?¡±
Seamus popped the last bite of cake into his mouth. ¡°Only one way to find out.¡±
Laughing, they grabbed a few extra pieces for the road and hurried back upstairs,just in time for the second hour of Charms.
Chapter 16
The class had just settled back into their seats when Flitwick clapped his hands. ¡°Alright, wands away for now. I want you to listen.¡±
That got their attention. Flitwick never made them put their wands away unless something important was coming. The usual rustling and chatter died down as he looked over the class, his expression thoughtful.
¡°I imagine,¡± he said, ¡°that all of you have been paying attention to what¡¯s been happening outside these walls.¡±
Silence.
¡°The World Cup. The Dark Mark in the sky.¡±
Harry and Ron exchanged curious glances.
Flitwick didn¡¯t elaborate. ¡°I¡¯ve been watching, not just the news, but you. The way you¡¯re reacting. The way you¡¯re thinking. And I¡¯ve decided, it¡¯s time for a different kind of lesson.¡±
He let that sink in for a second before continuing.
¡°Up until now, you¡¯ve been learning spells that are useful. Practical. You can summon things, repair things, float things. That¡¯s good magic.¡± Flitwick paused, looking over the class. ¡°But let me ask you something, what¡¯s the most important spell you know?¡±
Hermione frowned slightly, clearly thinking. Harry shifted in his seat. Even Malfoy, who usually had something to say about everything, stayed quiet.
Flitwick let the quiet stretch for a moment longer, then nodded as if he had expected this.
¡°You don¡¯t know, do you?¡± he said, voice calm. ¡°Because there isn¡¯t just one answer.¡±
He swung his legs slightly where he sat. ¡°Magic isn¡¯t about memorizing a list of ¡®most useful spells. It¡¯s about imagination. Adaptability. The wizard who can take what they know and reshape it for the moment, that¡¯s the wizard who survives.¡±
He flicked his wand at his desk.
Immediately, the wood twisted and folded, reshaping itself into a perfectly detailed wooden hawk. A few students gasped. Then, with a second flick, the hawk fluttered its wings once before taking off, swooping over their heads.
¡°That was Transfiguration,¡± Flitwick said. ¡°But this,¡± He gave a subtle twist of his wand, and the hawk executed a tight, controlled loop before landing neatly on his outstretched hand. ¡°This is Charms.¡±
The students watched the hawk closely, eyes wide. It wasn¡¯t just a wooden shape anymore, it moved like it was real.
¡°Transfiguration changes an object,¡± Flitwick continued. ¡°Charms refines it. Controls it. Pushes it further.¡±
With one last move of his wand, the hawk glided back toward his desk and seamlessly shifted back into polished wood.
¡°Charms aren¡¯t just for everyday tasks,¡± he said, scanning the room. ¡°They can shape the world around you. They can turn the tide of a battle.¡±
Then, as if flipping a switch, he clapped his hands and grinned. ¡°And with that in mind, let me tell you a little story.¡±
As Flitwick let his words settle, the classroom buzzed with quiet energy.
Harry turned toward Ron, about to say something about Flitwick¡¯s hawk demonstration, but his words stalled when he caught a snippet of Blaise Zabini¡¯s voice from the Slytherin side.
¡°¡it¡¯s never just about knowing spells,¡± Blaise Zabini was saying. ¡°That¡¯s what my mum told me. A real duelist masters one approach. There are only a few real paths in dueling, and once you go down one, that¡¯s it.¡±
Harry turned his head slightly, pretending to adjust his sleeve so he could listen without being obvious.
Theodore Nott nodded, looking thoughtful. ¡°My cousin told me something similar. That¡¯s why high-level duels are impossible to predict. No two duelists fight the same way.¡±
¡°She never told me the details,¡± Blaise admitted, tapping his wand lightly against his desk. ¡°Just that duelists have their own distinct styles, and the best ones? They never fight how you expect them to.¡±
Harry frowned slightly. He glanced at Ron.
¡°What do you think?¡± he muttered.
Ron shrugged, looking contemplative. ¡°Yeah, I reckon that¡¯s true. Even Bill told me something like that once.¡±
Harry blinked.
¡°Bill?¡±
Ron smirked slightly. ¡°Before he went off to Egypt to be a Curse Breaker, he wanted to see if he could make it as a duelist. But he didn¡¯t have the spell mastery to qualify for the UK team.¡±
Harry raised an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s that hard?¡±
¡°Obviously,¡± Ron said. ¡°But Bill never actually wanted to be a duelist. He just wanted to see what it was like. And he got what he wanted.¡±
Harry tilted his head. ¡°What do you mean?¡±
Ron leaned forward slightly. ¡°Bill was never about reading the opponent. That¡¯s the key to real dueling, figuring out what your enemy¡¯s gonna do before they do it. But Bill? He was always more about understanding spell patterns. That¡¯s what made him such a good Curse Breaker. It¡¯s basically dueling, but against ancient magic instead of a person.¡±
That actually made a lot of sense.
Before Harry could reply, Flitwick¡¯s voice cut through the low murmurs.
¡°Oh? Discussing dueling, are we?¡±
Flitwick turned toward Blaise and Theodore, his eyes twinkling with interest. ¡°Your mother taught you about dueling mastery, did she?¡±
Blaise, caught off guard gave a slight nod. ¡°She told me a few things, yeah. Not details, just..¡± He hesitated, then continued, ¡°She said the best duelists all follow a specific path. They master one way of fighting.¡±
Flitwick tapped a finger against his chin. ¡°Yeah, she¡¯d be right about that. I¡¯d know, I was a dueling champion. And because of that little conversation, I¡¯ve decided to change the story I was gonna tell you. Instead, I¡¯m gonna show you three techniques that take years to master, most duelists only ever commit to one. I mastered two during my time competing. The third? That was a personal challenge I set for myself long after I left the dueling circuit. Because learning magic?¡± He smiled. ¡°That never stops.¡±
Before anyone could react, he hopped off his desk, wand already in hand.
¡°Watch closely.¡±
And just like that, the lesson wasn¡¯t a lesson anymore.
Flitwick twirled his wand between his fingers, pacing slowly.
¡°Now, let¡¯s talk about a situation every duelist faces. No time to dodge. No time to shield. Spells coming at you faster than you can react. What do you do?¡±
The class was silent.
Flitwick smiled. ¡°If you¡¯re skilled enough, you don¡¯t dodge. You don¡¯t block. You take control.¡±
He smiled at students. ¡°Alright. I need two volunteers to cast at me. Nothing too dangerous, of course. Just a simple jinx or hex.¡±
¡°Gladly,¡± Blaise Zabini said smoothly, already pulling out his wand. Next to him, Theodore Nott smirked, clearly game for the challenge.
¡°Excellent,¡± Flitwick said. ¡°Fire when ready.¡±
For a second, neither of them moved. Then, Blaise sent a Stinging Hex straight at Flitwick¡¯s chest, while Theodore followed up with a jelly-legs jinx.
Flitwick didn¡¯t move. Not until the very last second.
Tap.
At the very last second, his wand barely skimmed the incoming hex, and the air itself seemed to twist. The spell bent unnaturally mid-flight, veering harmlessly to the side before fizzling out.
The Jelly-Legs Jinx shot forward right after, faster than the first. Flitwick twisted his wand, just a fraction, the jinx snapped sideways, missing him by inches before dissipating.
The room was dead silent.
¡°What¡± Daphne Greengrass started, then stopped.
Flitwick let out a small chuckle, tucking his wand away as he strolled forward. ¡°Gets them every time.¡±
¡°Now, let me explain. What you just saw is called spell deflection. No shields, no barriers, just pure magical control.¡±
He came to a stop in the middle of the room, looking over his students.
¡°To do it, you need to awaken your magical core.¡±
That got their attention.
¡°Your core,¡± Flitwick continued, ¡°is the well of magic inside you. Every spell you cast draws from it, whether you realize it or not. Most of you cast instinctively, channeling magic without much thought to the energy behind it. But a wizard who truly understands their core?¡± He smiled. ¡°They can refine that energy, control it, wield it in ways most can¡¯t.¡±
He raised his wand again, holding it up for emphasis. ¡°That¡¯s what I did just now. The moment a spell is about to hit, you match its energy with your own, just enough, no more, no less. And with that, you can push it aside.¡±
A few students were still staring at the wall, as if expecting the deflected spells to be lingering somewhere.
Pansy Parkinson raised a hand. ¡°But how do you know how much energy to use?¡±
¡°Ah,¡± Flitwick said, tapping his nose. ¡°Now that¡¯s the tricky part. You need to be as close as possible to the amount of magical energy in the spell you want to deflect. Too much, and you could overpower it, causing an explosion or worse, a backlash. Too little, and the spell breaks through.¡±
¡°So how do you figure it out?¡± Theodore Nott asked, clearly intrigued.
Flitwick¡¯s grin widened. ¡°That, my boy, is something you¡¯ll start learning in your sixth year.¡±
A collective groan swept through the class.
Flitwick laughed. ¡°Don¡¯t look so disappointed! You¡¯ll get there soon enough. For now, let¡¯s stick to the basics. Any other questions?¡±
Almost immediately, half the room started talking at once.
Flitwick held up a hand, grinning. ¡°One at a time, one at a time!¡±
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
The chatter died down just enough for Daphne Greengrass to speak first. ¡°Professor, you said duelists can deflect spells by matching their energy, but¡ how do you train something like that? Do you just keep trying until you get the balance right?¡±
¡°A good question, Miss Greengrass!¡± Flitwick nodded approvingly. ¡°Training for spell deflection requires precision. It¡¯s not just about raw power, it¡¯s about control. You start small, learning to adjust your magical output in tiny increments. Most wizards never even realize how much they overshoot their spells.¡± He smiled. ¡°It takes years of practice, but once mastered, it becomes second nature.¡±
Theodore Nott leaned forward, arms crossed. ¡°So it¡¯s not something you can just learn from a book, then?¡±
¡°Ah, exactly!¡± Flitwick beamed. ¡°You can read all you like about the theory, but no amount of studying will replace hands-on experience. It¡¯s like learning to balance on a broom, you don¡¯t master it by reading about Quidditch, do you?¡±
A few students chuckled at that.
Seated a few rows back, Pansy Parkinson frowned. ¡°But what happens if you get it wrong?¡± she asked. ¡°You said too much energy can cause an explosion. Has that ever happened in a real duel?¡±
¡°Oh, yes. And the results can be¡ spectacularly messy.¡±
A ripple of unease passed through some of the students.
¡°Luckily,¡± he continued, ¡°most skilled duelists avoid overloading a spell entirely. The real danger is underestimating your opponent¡¯s magic. If you don¡¯t put in enough energy, the spell punches right through your wandwork and¡¡± He clapped his hands sharply. ¡°Boom.¡±
¡°Brilliant,¡± Blaise murmured, half to himself.
From the Gryffindor side, Lavender Brown raised a hesitant hand. ¡°Professor, um¡ is this something Aurors learn?¡±
Flitwick nodded. ¡°Some do, yes. Aurors who specialize in combat magic train in deflection techniques, though most rely on shields first and foremost. Spell deflection is advanced, not many wizards can do it mid-duel.¡±
Then, from the back, Malfoy drawled, ¡°Alright, but what about wandless magic? If it¡¯s all about controlling magical energy, couldn¡¯t a real master do it without a wand?¡±
Flitwick chuckled. ¡°Ah, now that¡ that is a fascinating question.¡± He folded his hands behind his back, his eyes twinkling. ¡°Wandless deflection is possible. But it is beyond difficult. Even the most gifted duelists, those who can cast simple spells without a wand, struggle to control raw energy in the air. A wand focuses your magic, gives it direction. Imagine trying to catch an arrow mid-flight with only your fingertips.¡±
A few students looked properly impressed at that.
¡°So it¡¯s impossible?¡± Malfoy pressed.
Flitwick smirked. ¡°No. Just¡ highly impractical.¡±
That seemed to satisfy Malfoy, who sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful.
Flitwick clapped his hands again. ¡°Alright, I think that¡¯s enough theory for now! Let¡¯s move on.¡±
Flitwick rolled his shoulders.
¡°Now, that was the first technique,¡± he said casually. ¡°But real duelists? They don¡¯t just react. They shape the battlefield.¡±
A flick of his wand and an enchanted dueling dummy appeared. Unlike the stiff, wooden models they had used in past lessons, this one moved. Its limbs adjusted slightly, its carved fingers flexing around its wand. It was waiting.
Flitwick took a step forward. ¡°Spell chaining,¡± he said, ¡°is one of the most versatile techniques in advanced spellcasting. If you¡¯re creative, the sky¡¯s the limit.¡±
And then he moved.
A pulse of raw, unseen energy erupted outward as Flitwick¡¯s wand cut through the air.
Harry felt it. The heat, the static, the invisible force pressing on them like the room itself had shifted.
A golden shimmer burst from Flitwick¡¯s wand. Birds, dozens of them, wings gleaming like firelight as they shot toward the ceiling.
Harry focused on them immediately, trying to follow everything at once. The way their wings beat in unison, the way they turned sharply at the peak of their ascent.
They pivoted.
With a move of Flitwick¡¯s wand, the golden birds twisted midair, diving toward the dummy like a pack of hunting hawks.
Another spell.
Heat rushed against Harry¡¯s skin as the birds ignited, their feathers turning to fire. The temperature in the room actually changed. The rush of air sent a tingle across his arms.
The dummy reacted, a shield flashing in front of it, glowing blue.
Harry leaned in, watching intently, eyes locked on the scene but then he glanced at Flitwick and the view has shocked him.
The same professor who charmed desks to dance, who squeaked excitedly when students got a spell right, he was also this. A man who had stood in dueling rings, faced real opponents, fought with this same calm precision.
Harry had never thought much about it before, but now, he couldn¡¯t unsee it.
This was a warrior.
His expression was one of total focus, his body loose but ready, moving with instinct, not thought. And beneath the discipline, the control he saw¡
Joy.
Pure joy.
The magic poured off him like heat from a fire, effortless, natural, like he was made for this.
Harry had never seen him like this before.
A shiver ran up his arms. The heat in the room should¡¯ve been overwhelming, but it wasn¡¯t. If anything, it barely registered now. Something else had taken hold.
It started in his hands, a faint tingling, his wand buzzing lightly against his palm. Then deeper, a pull in his chest, tight and electric, like something inside him was waking up.
For a second, he swore he could feel it, magic thrumming under his skin.
Ron shifted beside him, leaning in slightly. ¡°Mate, you alright?¡±
Harry blinked, barely turning his head.
His voice came out quiet, almost unsure. ¡°Can you feel it?¡±
Ron frowned. ¡°Feel what?¡±
Harry glanced back toward Flitwick. He gestured vaguely.
¡°This,¡± he whispered. ¡°This power. This magic. You don¡¯t feel it?¡±
Ron¡¯s brows knitted together. He looked between Harry and Flitwick, then shook his head.
¡°No.¡±
Another spell.
The air collapsed inward, the heat, the fire, all of it suddenly compressed, dense.
The firestorm melted.
Molten gold collapsed downward, swallowing everything beneath it.
The dummy¡¯s shield flared brighter, struggling, then splintered like shattered ice.
A beat later, the molten gold punched through.
Flitwick barely moved his wand. The molten gold twisted midair, folding in on itself, then collapsed downward in a perfect, devastating strike. The shield shattered, the dummy swallowed whole. The air vibrated with the aftershock of spent magic.
And just like that, it was over.
The room was dead silent.
The molten gold shimmered, cooling rapidly as Flitwick gave the smallest twist of his wand, dissipating the spell. The only sound was the faint crackle of heat against stone before it, too, faded into nothing.
¡°Bloody hell,¡± Seamus muttered.
That seemed to break the trance. A ripple of whispers spread across the room, hushed but frantic. Students exchanged wide-eyed glances, some leaning toward each other, others just staring at Flitwick like they¡¯d never seen him before.
Harry barely noticed. His hand was still tingling.
Flitwick dusted off his robes casually, as if he hadn¡¯t just turned a classroom demonstration into something straight out of a war story. ¡°And that,¡± he said, voice light, ¡°is the power of spell chaining.¡±
¡°Professor,¡± Hermione blurted out, eyes still fixed on where the dummy had been, ¡°that wasn¡¯t just chaining spells together. You transfigured them mid-cast, didn¡¯t you?¡±
Flitwick¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Ah, Miss Granger, you catch on quickly. Yes, spell chaining isn¡¯t just about rapid casting. A true master blends multiple disciplines into one seamless attack.¡± He turned slightly, gesturing to where the gold had hardened into harmless stone. ¡°Transfiguration. Elemental magic. Charms for control. The more fluidly you combine them, the more unpredictable and devastating your magic becomes.¡±
The bell rang.
Flitwick twirled his wand once before tucking it away. ¡°No homework,¡± he said, ¡°but do take a moment to reflect. Magic isn¡¯t just spells, it¡¯s how you wield them.¡±
Chairs scraped against the floor as students slowly began packing up, still dazed.
Flitwick was already gathering his notes when he added, almost as an afterthought, ¡°As for the third technique¡ another time.¡±
The last students trickled out of the classroom, still murmuring about the lesson. Harry slung his bag over his shoulder but didn¡¯t follow Ron and Hermione toward the door. Instead, he hesitated, glancing at Flitwick, who was tidying up his desk with casual flicks of his wand.
Ron stopped when he noticed. ¡°You coming?¡±
¡°In a bit,¡± Harry said. ¡°I just want to ask Professor Flitwick something.¡±
Ron looked curious but shrugged. ¡°Alright. Meet you at lunch?¡±
Harry nodded. He waited for the door to close behind them, then turned back toward Flitwick.
¡°Ah, Mr. Potter,¡± Flitwick said, turning to him with a bright look. ¡°Something on your mind?¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± Harry admitted, shifting his weight slightly. ¡°It¡¯s about¡er.. well, two things, actually.¡±
Flitwick¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but something in his blue eyes ignited with interest. ¡°Go on.¡±
Harry exhaled. Might as well start with the simpler one.
¡°Professor, I wanted to ask about Luna Lovegood.¡±
Flitwick blinked, clearly not expecting that. ¡°Miss Lovegood? What about her?¡±
¡°It¡¯s just¡¡± Harry hesitated. ¡°Ginny Weasley mentioned she¡¯s been acting a bit off lately. Keeping to herself more. And I know Luna¡¯s always been, you know¡ different, but I just thought,since you¡¯re her Head of House, you might be able to check on her?¡±
Flitwick studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. ¡°Miss Lovegood is indeed a rather unique young witch, but she¡¯s stronger than people give her credit for.¡± He tapped his chin thoughtfully. ¡°That said, I will, of course, make sure she¡¯s doing alright. You care about your fellow students, Mr. Potter. That¡¯s a good quality.¡±
¡°Thanks, Professor.¡±
Flitwick waved a hand. ¡°Think nothing of it.¡±
Harry shifted again. The easy part was over. Now for the part he wasn¡¯t sure he could even explain properly.
¡°There was¡ one more thing.¡±
Flitwick arched an eyebrow. ¡°Yes?¡±
Harry hesitated. How was he even supposed to word this?
¡°During the lesson,¡± he started slowly, ¡°when you were demonstrating spell chaining¡ something weird happened.¡±
Flitwick¡¯s expression sharpened. ¡°Weird?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know how to explain it,¡± Harry admitted. ¡°I just.. I felt something. In my chest, in my hands. Like my magic was,¡± He gestured vaguely, struggling for the right words. ¡°moving on its own. Like it was trying to wake up.¡±
Flitwick didn¡¯t immediately respond. He just watched Harry closely, his Ravenclaw mind clearly dissecting every word.
¡°Fascinating¡¡±
Harry shifted on his feet. ¡°Professor, is that normal?¡±
Charms Professor tilted his head. ¡°Well¡ it¡¯s not unheard of, but it¡¯s certainly not common.¡±
Harry frowned. ¡°What does that mean?¡±
Flitwick gave him a considering look before hopping up onto his desk, legs swinging slightly. ¡°Magic is a curious thing, Mr. Potter. Most wizards learn to wield it externally, spells, charms, incantations. But magic is not just something we cast.¡± He tapped his chest lightly. ¡°It is something we are.¡±
Harry stayed silent, listening intently.
¡°Some witches and wizards,¡± Flitwick continued, ¡°form an especially deep connection with their magic, stronger, more instinctive. This can manifest in different ways. Some find themselves casting without a wand in moments of extreme need. Others develop an intuitive grasp of spells beyond their years.¡± He leaned forward slightly. ¡°But what you¡¯re describing? Feeling your magic before you even call upon it? That suggests something else entirely.¡±
Harry swallowed. ¡°What?¡±
¡°It suggests that your magic is starting to pay attention to you, Mr. Potter.¡±
Harry blinked. ¡°What does that mean?¡±
Flitwick chuckled. ¡°It means you should start paying attention back.¡±
Harry nodded slowly. That wasn¡¯t exactly a full answer, but he¡¯d take it for now.
Flitwick smiled. ¡°Now, if that¡¯s all, I believe you have a lunch to get to.¡±
Realizing how much time had passed, Harry quickly slung his bag over his shoulder. ¡°Right. Thanks, Professor.¡±
Flitwick waved him off cheerfully. ¡°Anytime, Mr. Potter. And if you ever feel your magic speaking to you again¡ don¡¯t hesitate to let me know.¡±
As Harry left the classroom, he had the oddest feeling that Flitwick wasn¡¯t just being polite.
He actually meant it.
By the time Harry got back to the Great Hall, lunchtime was in full swing. Students were crammed onto the benches, the clatter of plates and silverware mixing with loud conversations. The smell of roasted chicken and warm bread filled the air, but at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione weren¡¯t paying much attention to their food.
Ron was stuffing his face without really tasting anything, and Hermione was flipping through her notes between bites. They both looked up as Harry dropped into his seat.
¡°Where¡¯d you disappear to?¡± Ron asked, mouth half-full.
¡°Went to talk to Flitwick,¡± Harry said, grabbing a roll.
Hermione¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Why? What happened?¡±
Harry tore off a piece of bread. ¡°Ginny thinks something¡¯s wrong with Luna. Says she¡¯s been acting off but won¡¯t talk about it. I figured since Flitwick¡¯s her Head of House, he might know something.¡±
Ron frowned. ¡°And?¡±
¡°He said he¡¯d check on her, but he didn¡¯t seem too worried. Said Luna¡¯s always been¡ well, Luna.¡±
Ron snorted. ¡°Yeah, that sounds about right.¡±
Hermione, however, still looked concerned. ¡°If Ginny noticed something, though¡ maybe keep an eye on her, just in case.¡±
Harry nodded but didn¡¯t dwell on it. Instead, he turned to Hermione.
¡°Actually, I wanted to ask you something.¡±
Hermione perked up. ¡°Oh?¡±
¡°Can you help me with Arithmancy?¡±
She blinked. That was clearly not the question she was expecting. ¡°Arithmancy? Why?¡±
Harry sighed, setting down his roll. ¡°Remember those books from Sirius? Broken Mind, Broken Body? I finally started trying to decipher them, and I spent four hours the other day just figuring out one sentence.¡±
Ron nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. ¡°Four hours?!¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± Harry muttered. ¡°And that was just one line. I asked Madam Pince if there were any books on ciphers, and she took one look at it and said the whole thing is encrypted using Arithmancy.¡±
Hermione¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Oh! That actually makes sense. Arithmantic encryption is incredibly complex,way beyond simple letter shifting.¡± She sat up straighter. ¡°But, Harry, you don¡¯t take Arithmancy.¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± he muttered. ¡°That¡¯s the problem.¡±
Ron leaned on his elbow, looking skeptical. ¡°So let me get this straight,you have to learn an entire subject just to read some book?¡±
¡°That¡¯s what it sounds like.¡±
Hermione, however, was already deep in thought. ¡°Well¡ you wouldn¡¯t need to learn everything. If it¡¯s encrypted with Arithmantic principles, then it¡¯s likely based on magical sequences and numerical substitution. If we focus on just that, you could probably learn enough to start deciphering it properly.¡±
Harry exhaled in relief. ¡°That¡¯s what I was hoping. I don¡¯t have time to learn Arithmancy like a normal student.¡±
Hermione tapped her quill against her parchment, already making a mental plan. ¡°If we start today, I could teach you some of the basics during Free Period.¡±
¡°Brilliant,¡± Harry said. ¡°Can we go after lunch?¡±
Hermione nodded. ¡°Of course. The library should be quiet enough.¡±
Ron groaned. ¡°You lot are actually choosing to spend Free Period in the library?¡±
Harry smirked. ¡°You¡¯re just mad because you¡¯ll be stuck in the common room with nothing to do.¡±
Ron gave him a flat look. ¡°Nothing to do? Mate, I¡¯ll be playing Exploding Snap and actually relaxing while you two fry your brains over numbers.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Mental, both of you.¡±
Hermione rolled her eyes. ¡°Enjoy your highly productive Free Period, then.¡±
Ron grinned. ¡°Oh, I will.¡±
The rest of lunch passed quickly, with occasional grumbling from the Gryffindor Quidditch team about the pitch still being closed. Once they finished, Ron headed back to the common room for a round of Exploding Snap, while Harry and Hermione made their way to the library.
It was time to crack this cipher properly.
On my Patreon you can read up to six chapters ahead + every saturday there is a new one.