Chapter 44: Chapter 44: The Two-Faced Man
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12 January 1991, Hogwarts
Alas, Harry wasn't going to even try to attempt doing something like this anytime soon. He was going to get started with the anti-Legilimency before committing to anything like this without any research.
It took two days and a pointed letter from Professor Snape until Harry Potter exited his common room. And for all the potion master's scolding, Harry wouldn't have had it any other way. After all, Harry wanted to get the most done before classes started again.
Well, before he knew it, classes were back, and school resumed as usual. Harry had spent the rest of the holidays practically reading every single book on the mind arts. It was far more extensive than he had thought, especially since its theory was aimed at fully licensed healers, that have studied for years after graduating from Hogwarts.
Funnily enough, the easy part was the spells, especially the malicious ones. The obliviation charm can be mastered by any idiot with a wand, but you could spend years studying the disciplines dealing with the fragile intricacies of the mind, and you would only scratch the surface. Mind curses were disturbingly easy to cast. There was one to cause gradual dementia on the target, which acts like a worm, eating away the mind unless it is countered somehow.
As for Occlumency and Legilimency, they stood places apart. Legilimency was a spell but one that can only be mastered by a decent Occlumens that was somewhat understanding of mind magics. You could easily accidentally broadcast your own thoughts in the spell, giving your target a slice of your memories while trying to get one of his.
As for Occlumency, it was a discipline of mastery over the mind. It wasn't meant to repress emotions or feelings, it didn't give you a photographic memory, and it certainly didn't give you perfect recall of every little detail like a pensive. Oh, the practices involved would guarantee that the user is disciplined and has enough self-control, but it's not the magic but the exercises that guarantee this, and even then, they weren't foolproof. Voldemort was known as a master of Occlumency, and he wasn't exactly the picture of mental or emotional stability.
Still, Harry started to do the advised exercises and focus on a mental image every night to clear his mind. It was very hard and not that rewarding in the short term. No wonder Harry Potter from the stories was miserable at it. He was a hormonal teenager, angry at the world, that was clamouring for action. Sitting still for an hour a day to clear his mind wasn't really a thing he would look forward to, and that's not to mention Snape breaking into his private moments one after one.
Thankfully, that wasn't happening to him, even if the method Snape used was technically viable, especially considering his counterpart's situation. The purpose was to get him to familiarize himself with his own mind enough that he would be able to feel every intrusion. It wasn't enough for him to stop broadcasting his thoughts, since Voldemort was already inside his mind because of the Horcrux. It was a bootlegged still of deep Occlumency meant to recognize mind altering spells and potions and stop them. And the boy was forced to do it without even mastering the basics since that would take too long.
Still, with his magic circuits stabilizing after the ritual, Harry didn't need to do the ritual bath every day, leaving him with a couple of hours of free time that he was going to use to do these exercises.
However, for all Harry was excited to have all the time in the world to learn a new field of magic, he had missed his friends. He waited for them at the platform on the day they returned, one day before classes started. He was immediately enveloped by a hug from Daphne and Tracy, who seemed to have loved their presents. Blaise was slightly more subdued in showing his gratitude, but he was wearing the pin Harry had given him.
With classes starting, things started to stabilize into a certain routine. Harry simply did his Occlumency exercises in the morning, then went with his friends to class, went to the library after it was over for a couple of hours after classes, and then returned to the dormitory to hang out with them, do his homework, or practice his spell work.
Normalcy had returned to the school of magic. At least in theory.
Although, for some reason, Neville Longbottom seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time in the history section of the library looking for Nicholas Flamel. It was extremely amusing from the outside since if he asked any upper year, he would have probably had an answer. Alas, he seemed to be stuck in the wrong part of the history section in a vain effort to be secretive in his quest to find out what is hidden in the forbidden corridor, and he was too stubborn to ask anyone about it.
Harry wanted to see his face when he found out how much of a waste all this effort was. Although, the young Slytherin was somewhat sympathetic to McGonagall that looked hopeful that her student was taking his education seriously, only to be saddened by his even lower grades. Still, as long as he kept busy, Harry was all for letting the boy waste his time with this nonsense. He had barely even talked to a person that wasn't a Gryffindor first year or a member of his Quidditch team, which meant that he stopped harassing people and ignored Malfoy's crude attempt at antagonizing him, much to the blonde's obvious frustration. He really didn't know how to deal with it.
As for the Philosopher's Stone, Harry had no desire to find it. Because the corridor is either a trap for Voldemort or a test for Longbottom. It was the only conclusion other than Dumbledore being simply insane and that was unlikely, no matter how much the man wanted the world to see him as an eccentric wise old man. It didn't matter if the trap used the real stone or not, because if it was the real thing, no matter how unlikely it was, then it could be easily tracked somehow, and Harry was not confident enough to fight out armies of wizards with dreams of living forever. Although, it was most likely a fake. Nicholas Flamel didn't really seem the type to give the key to his and his wife's survival to be used as a trap for a dark lord that's not all that different from the other dark lords he dealt with in his long life.
It didn't matter, and even if Dumbledore had arranged to show him the mirror, Harry had no intention of being involved in the man's plots.
Still, nothing out of the ordinary happened until one day, after his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Quirrell addressed Harry, "Mr Potter, could you please stay back for me."
Harry gulped slightly, while his friends left the classroom, leaving the young Slytherin alone with the possibly possessed Professor. He was always hesitant whenever he was in Quirrell's presence. He never met his eyesight or the back of his head, he made sure to never be alone with him, and he never volunteered in any way during class. The man still kept fidgeting and jumping at every sudden noise, but the Potter scion knew that it didn't make him any less dangerous.
The turban wearing professor waited until the last student left the classroom before speaking, "You must wonder why I asked you to stay, Potter."
Harry nodded, "The thought did cross my mind, Professor."
"Well, I couldn't help but notice how advanced you really are during class. I will admit to not having seen someone your age with your competence in a very long time."
Harry simply shrugged, "I just like learning about magic. It's just so amazing, what we can do with it. How could I not want to learn about it?"
Alas, the professor's words cut into his heart like a knife, "You weren't raised by wizards, were you?"
Harry simply stood there stupefied. Of all the things he expected the professor to say, this wasn't it. The man grinned at his reaction, "I thought so. Don't worry, I'm not planning on telling anyone. I could only imagine what might happen if this information was spread in your house."
"How did you find out, professor?" Harry finally asked after a few seconds of silence. He tried to figure out where he went wrong. He didn't really do anything that any other pureblood student wouldn't. So, how did Quirrell know?
"Oh, you want to know where you went wrong. That's the thing, Potter, you didn't, and that's what let me know. Your experimentations with your magic, and your passion towards learning more about it, aren't characteristics of someone who is used to magic as an everyday commodity. You treat your magic as a luxury, as a precious gift, as you well should. Your peers dismiss it. It's too normal for them. That's why I knew that you weren't raised around magic."
Harry grimaced. The man really wasn't wrong, but he really wanted him to just get to the point.
The professor continued, "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You are part of a family that has existed for centuries and helped shape history in its own way. As far as I'm concerned, your attitude towards magic is an advantage, not a flaw. Which is why I wished to make you an offer."
"What kind of offer?" Harry asked.
"Well, as you well know, you're allowed to choose a club to join this semester. Professor Flitwick was very excited when you showed interest in his duelling club, but I'm here to offer you an alternative. Duelling, while a noble art and a respected sport, is not really useful outside of sporting events. You won't really learn any new spells or magic, and in a real magical fight, the instincts wouldn't help you too much. What I propose is for you to study under me, and I will teach you magic beyond any student in this castle."
"Like what, professor?"
The man grinned as if he had won something, "Well, there's the dark arts, the light arts, elemental magics, mind magics, rituals, anything really. It will depend entirely on you. I will make sure that you're the greatest student to ever come out of Hogwarts."
The Potter scion internally grimaced, but he was still curious about something the man said, "The light arts, sir? What are those?"
"Well, Dumbledore probably kept this hidden, but there is a counterpart to the dark arts, called the light arts. They're not as nice as they sound. Honestly, they're not all that different from the dark arts. They're just as alluring, just as addictive, and just as harmful in the wrong hands. You could do a lot of good with both. You can heal with both the light and dark alike, just as you can cast curses with both light and dark arts. This is not magic that you will ever find at Hogwarts. The headmaster has made sure to put any of the books either in his own collection or in the restricted section. So, what do you say, young Potter? Would you like to accept my offer?"
Well, that was more information than he had on the subject in a while. Harry decided not to dabble in dark magic until he had enough of a foundation in magic while making sure not to hurt himself.
Harry wouldn't deny that Quirrell's offer was attractive. He had to sneak into restricted sections, the Room of Requirements, fighting and figuring out every useful spell he could find, and having an official teacher would help speed things along. But with that came the downsides. Quirrell was dangerous, and Harry wanted nothing to do with it.
The Potter scion made a decision and shook his head, "I'm sorry Professor, but that would be taking the fun out of learning magic. I like figuring things out on my own, and a private tutor would rob me of that. And I am excited to test my magic against other students. I'm sorry, but I'm going to join the duelling club."
Harry thought that for a second, the man's eyes turned to red before turning back to their usual brown, "I'm sorry to hear that, Potter. If you ever change your mind, my door is always open. I hope that you will succeed in your endeavours and not regret refusing this opportunity."
The young Slytherin shivered at the man's cold tone, and implied threat. He returned to his dormitory and stayed in his bed, realizing that he almost became the apprentice of the fucking Dark Lord in his first year at Hogwarts. He only hoped that the man wouldn't kill him for his refusal.
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