章節 40: Chapter 36: Professor Potter's first lesson
Harry and Penny exited the Potions classroom exhausted, but happy. "You managed to not blow everything up!" Penny congratulated as they started making their way to Defence against the Dark Arts. The boy grimaced, before showing a small smile.
"I guess that's an improvement, it seems like all that practice last year helped."
"Slughorn even gave you a point!"
Harry remembered how Slughorn had given him a point for meticulously preparing his ingredients. He'd never had an issue with that, considering it was the part of the process that he could control. It was rather at the cauldron stage that everything tended to go tits up for him. There was just something about his hands combining the ingredients under a regulated temperature that made them not interact well.
"Pity points," he muttered.
"You're always such a downer. There are literal jobs in the magical world that consist of only preparing ingredients. Sure, usually you need to know something about brewing as well. But every decent Potions Master needs an assistant or two."
"I get the feeling that this role is usually filled up by apprentices who want to become potion masters themselves," Harry speculated and tousled his hair when he felt something itchy touching his scalp. His hand came back with a bit of crushed snake fang and he grimaced, before scourgifying himself in entirety.
"Nope, it's the job my grandmother did for a few years. Then she decided to become a full apothecary."
As Penny explained more about the career path of her grandma, Harry wondered to what extent gender discrimination existed in the magical world. For all that wands were great equalisers and technically gave everyone access to a symbol of phallic power, most of the higher positions in the magical world were still held by men. Was it simply because women tended to stay home after having children?
He suddenly realised something and turned to his blonde chattering friend who was gesticulating into the air as she described how her grandma had once had to bleed a dragon to fulfil an order on time.
"Does the wizarding world have any schools, before Hogwarts that is?" he asked.
"No, just village schools if several magical families end up living in the same place. I went to one, but I know that most people were taught by their parents," she explained and clammed up as they neared the DADA classroom, which already had a group of Gryffindors waiting in front of it.
With the new information, Harry theorised that women tended to give up their careers to take care of their children, seeing as there weren't seemingly any normalised places where they could drop them off and go to work. Perhaps those with a supportive family structure, or the half-bloods who sent their kids to muggle school could pull it off.
"Are you excited for DADA?" Cedric asked as he caught up to the two, having chatted with his potions partner on the way here. "Still can't believe we're going to be taught by James Potter. Bonkers."
"It should definitely be an improvement over last year," Harry said, adding the 'I hope,' in his head. While James Potter was seemingly very good at his job, which involved dealing with the Dark Arts, it was still up in the air if he would be any good at teaching.
"Let's find out!" Penny said excitedly as the door to the classroom creaked open and they entered. It was interesting to see how James had decorated the classroom, considering how every defence Professor apparently did it differently. Twix had been boring, bringing with her some mundane objects that she'd allegedly un-cursed. Harry was still unsure if the woman had been anything but a professional clown, to be honest, and was slightly ashamed that he hadn't merited a more competent villain for his first story arc. Anyway, James at least seemed to have more of a sense of style, he noted as the students filed into the classroom and took their seats. There were stuffed beasts, such as grindylow and red caps, sharing space with broken death-eater masks and bloodied robes. Overall, it was pretty wicked. He sat down in the seats all the way in the back, everyone else clambering to the front.
The Death Eater memorabilia though, was probably a bit insensitive to the Slytherin students.
A warning, maybe? Harry was busy analysing the head of what appeared to be some ginormous snake when the back door of the classroom banged open and the man of the hour arrived, levitating behind himself a very large wardrobe, which he deposited in the corner, where there was the most space in front of the doors.
"Fuck," Harry muttered quietly, but not quietly enough for his bench neighbour not to give him a queer look. A dark-skinned and athletic girl with a red and gold tie.
"What?" she whispered with wide eyes, as Harry noted that both Penny and Cedric had won the battle for front-row seats.
"I think that's a boggart, they like dark and enclosed spaces," he explained as the chatter of the classroom died down and the professor went behind the lecturing podium, observing them through gold-rimmed glasses. He seemed oddly serious, now that he was teaching. Harry just hoped they wouldn't be dealing with a competent Lockhart. If that was the case he would have to ask Filch if he could do detention with him instead.
The wardrobe rattled violently and the students sitting in the front rows seemed to regret their decision and inched back into their seats.
"Nothing to worry about, it's just a boggart," Professor Potter proclaimed, raising a calming hand. It wasn't very effective and people started whispering.
"Quiet down, quiet down. I know it's scary. You all covered only non-magical animals and muggle scenarios last year. Maybe some magical plants. But now it's time to move on to some magical creatures and that's why I've started with a boggart, which in a room as full as this, is less dangerous than a rabbit, quite frankly," he explained, finally managing to regain some order. He started pacing around and seemed to be deep in thought before he snapped his finger and pointed at the students. "Can anyone tell me what a boggart is, for those who don't know?"
Almost half the class raised their hands. Harry was pretty sure that some of those who did didn't even know the answer. The professor seemed equally overwhelmed by the response and ran a hand through his brown hair.
"You," he said, eventually pointing at Cedric.
"They're creatures that turn into what you fear most. They like dark spaces, like wardrobes. But my dad once found one under the bed in the guest room."
James clapped. "Good, three points to Hufflepuff. Those were already essentials. Boggarts are creatures that feed on your fear, and for that purpose, they'll try to scare you. They're what's most likely to be found in a dark space that is rattling suspiciously. That, or pixies, which we will also be covering this year."
"In line with the duality of emotions often seen in magic, while boggarts love fear, they hate laughter. It's what defeats them."
A student raised their hand and posed their question after a nod from the professor. "But if they're scary, how are you supposed to laugh," the girl complained.
"Ah, the perfect question to segway into the meat of today's lecture. Two points to Gryffindor." He paused. "How indeed, does one laugh at one's biggest fear? Does anyone know?" he asked and looked out into the classroom. Harry had to admit that the man wasn't such a bad teacher as he'd expected from his prank at the sorting. That's why he took mercy on him when nobody raised their hand. Boggarts weren't covered in the course book that Potter had assigned, so the kids didn't really have a way of knowing the spell that countered them. He raised his eyes and watched as Professor Potter's gaze fixated on him. It stayed there, the man's face stuck in a neutral position that didn't betray any emotions behind the façade.
"The spell for changing the shape of a boggart is called riddikulus. You're supposed to change it into something funny, so you laugh. For example, if your biggest fear is a death eater, maybe you can cast the spell and turn their robes into a ballerina's tutu," he suggested and continued. "In that regard, I'd also like to ask if it's possible to simply cast a cheering charm on one's self instead. Technically that would also elicit laughter."
"Thank you, Mr. Evans," the professor said. "Five points to Gr-Hufflepuff. Completely correct in regards to the counter-spell, as for your question, I think the cheering charm might work." He turned to the rest of the class. "What you should perhaps note down at this point, is that your laughter does not necessarily need to be completely genuine. The point of the spell is simply to be able to start the process. Now, let's practise the spell, without wands, first," he said and dramatically cast his hand towards the class like he was Palpatine about to summon lightning. "Riddikulus!" he intoned in a stupidly high-pitched voice.
"Riddikulus," came the enthusiastic shouts from the class. It continued like that for a few minutes, everyone getting their pronunciation right with the help of their neighbour.
But nothing could last forever, and soon they were made to stand in a circle around the rattling closet, set to face the boggarts. Harry kept to the back, hoping that perhaps he could avoid being called upon. Penny was right there next to him. He didn't know if it was for the same reasons. Cedric however, was in the front. And when Professor Potter called for a volunteer, he was the first one to step forward.
"You ready, Mr. Diggory?" James asked as he raised his wand at the wardrobe, likely to cast an opening charm at its door.
Cedric braced himself, raised his wand and nodded. He looked quite charming, standing in the middle of the circle of students as if to protect them. Wand raised, wind-swept hair framing a serious face. The effect was ruined when the door of the wardrobe opened and the boggart came out. Everyone laughed without having to force it.
A broken broom was lying on the floor, menacingly.
Cedric became red in the face as the laughter forced the boggart back into the wardrobe, with the doors shutting close behind it. Cedric lowered his wand and the professor patted him on the back before calling over the next person.
"I almost crashed when flying this morning," Cedric admitted when he went to stand next to Harry and Penny, "and the trial is this weekend." They both shot him amused looks, which quickly turned serious when the wardrobe opened again and something much more horrible stepped out. The summoner was some Gryffindor boy that Harry didn't know, but as the gigantic werewolf scrambled its way out of the wardrobe, its claws raking and tapping a horrible beat on the stone floor and the boy didn't flinch, Harry grew to respect this anonymous second-year. Everyone else inched back and the professor made to step forward as the werewolf made threatening gestures towards the students, with its snarling mouth, sickly elongated arms and horrible-sounding yips, barks and growls.
"Riddikulus!" The second-year cast and the werewolf morphed in a swirl of colours into a white poodle riding a unicycle and barking God save the Queen. Harry chuckled in disbelief, while several genuine and several forced laughs went through the circle of students like a wave.
"Alright, good job, next!" Professor Potter shouted and the Gryffindor stepped back, only to be replaced by a Hufflepuff whose biggest fear was, again, a werewolf, now a chihuahua shitting itself.
Werewolf, Death Eater in a tutu, werewolf, werewolf, dead parent, werewolf, inferius, snake, werewolf, professor McGonagall, werewolf. The fears of the students listed in order, although Harry was sure that he missed a few. He'd been busy sneaking his way into the group of students that had already cast the spell and perhaps the only thing that made Professor Potter not notice what he'd done was the fact that he was busy being consternated about the fact that werewolves were the predominant fear of the day. It made sense. Most of the children in the class were too young to remember the war and the two werewolf attacks in Britain had been the worst thing to happen in recent time. That's what the newspapers claimed at least.
It was after the last student had gone through the grinder of facing a boggart that Harry noticed a small group around him, who had also snuck away from having to face their greatest fear. Among them was Penny, one Hufflepuff and one Gryffindor. It made him realise that it wasn't that the professor hadn't noticed their non-participation, but likely that he didn't feel like forcing them. The class collectively went back to their seats, leaving a slightly constipated-looking James Potter in front of their classroom.
"Good job, everyone. I'll end this session with a minimal amount of homework," he said, before being interrupted by a raised hand.
"Will we be covering werewolves as well, this year?" Katie Bell asked
"Werewolves are a threat unsuited for second-year Defence against the Dark Arts, I was more thinking of putting them into…" the man trailed off, before sighing. "We'll cover werewolves next week, face fears and all that," he said to the joy and trepidation of the class. Harry got the feeling that while some of them wanted to learn how to defend themselves, most carried a morbid curiosity about the cursed humans that shifted every full moon. "To that end, find everything you can about werewolves in the library. Five-inch essay on the curse as homework," the man declared and clapped dismissively, some of the students left, but others went to crowd around the auror, probably to ask him personal questions. Harry simply packed his things and leaned back, waiting for the man's frustration to boil over at the likely insipid questions and for him to have the time to discuss detention. It didn't take long before James snapped something at the gaggle of children surrounding him and deducted a few house points, which finally made them leave.
Harry sauntered over.
"Professor Potter, I'm supposed to discuss my detention with you?" he prompted and watched the annoyance bleed off of the man's face.
"Yes, yes, of course. Detention will be on Monday at 7pm, right after dinner. It's not good to use violence unless there is a threat of physical harm."
"What will we be doing, if I may ask?"
"Grading homework, I heard you went forward in Charms and Arithmancy so I'm sure you can help me with the first-years if I give you a sheet of requirements," James said and Harry blinked in surprise, before humming thoughtfully. Grading people?
"I'm sure we can arrange that," Harry said with a smile, causing James to nod.
"Any reason you didn't face the boggart?" he asked as he adjusted his glasses.
Harry froze.
"I didn't feel like finding out what my greatest fear is in front of all my classmates," he eventually reasoned.
"You don't know what it could be?" James prompted, somewhat confusedly, perhaps thinking that it should have something to do with Twix and the hostage-taking of last year.
Harry shrugged, he genuinely didn't know, but worst case he wanted to find out alone. If the fear was indicative of his existence as a reincarnation, he wanted to keep it to himself
"No clue."
"Well, I guess we should find out on Monday, then," James said and Harry took it as a dismissal and left with a grimace. He knew it was important to face a boggart in a controlled environment at least once so that one could identify it in the future. But on some level, he would rather not bother at all. Whatever he was afraid of, it was probably better for it to stay buried.
He exited the classroom into a throng of first-year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, who all scrambled inside as if there was an unlimited supply of fire whiskey on every table. The only student who stayed outside was a girl with curly black hair and grey eyes. Harley Black stepped up to Harry as the door closed behind them and looked up at him.
"Thanks for standing up for me yesterday," she said, at which Harry just shook his head, he didn't feel any pride about what he'd done.
"Don't mention it, literally," Harry said, gaining a confused chuckle from the girl.
"I just wanted to tell you though, that I can take care of myself," she said and went to enter the classroom, leaving Harry alone outside. He had a free period. He did not have enough time to go to the Room of Requirement, especially since he tended to avoid doing so during the day when there were the most students out and about. He decided to opt for the library, he could finish his homework and would still have some time left over to look up curse-breaking, which he would need if he wanted to check out the stuff in the room of lost things.
-/-
Harry once again, probably for the twelfth time this week alone, patted himself on the back for the spell that he'd created. Literra revelio had once again saved his ass. Not only did it help him complete his homework much faster, as he found the necessary literature in the blink of an eye, but the topic of curse-breaking had turned out to be quite obscure. He definitely would have needed to look around for several days if he'd searched the library manually. With his spell, it had taken him just under four minutes to gather the low amount of three relevant books there were on the subject. The ones that weren't in the restricted section that was.
He started with 'Curse-breaking Compendium', which seemed to be an encyclopaedia of all the curses that the author of the book, one John Figgs, had encountered during his career. The man had, instead of ordering everything alphabetically, or by order of how likely one was to encounter a certain curse, ordered the listing from the curses that he would mind the least to be affected by to those he would very much mind. So while the first curse described in the book was the curse of hair loss, which Figgs rationalised away with the fact that he was bald already, the last entry on page 143 was a blood-line curse which would doom one's entire family line to basically live as if they had taken a sea sized dose of anti-felix felicis.
The book wasn't a manual on how to cast the curse, nor was it a manual on how to break it. Every entry simply had a description of a curse effect and what items they had been found attached to, with a little sketch. To this end, the book held a staggering amount of 471 different curses. Naturally, Harry didn't read them all, but he felt like he had a better grasp of what he could expect from a cursed object. Generally, the rule that he identified was; that the less awesome, historically or emotionally important the cursed item, the lighter the curse. Figgs explained this by claiming that since curses were evil thoughts given form, they were easier to attach to items important to the caster of the curse. This actually correlated nicely with the knowledge which Harry had, that the items cursed with the most perfidious magic in the books were all either gold or jewellery.
The locket that almost killed Katie Bell came to mind, as did the Gringotts vault with self-replicating burning coins. The diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw was of course the best example. No one ever heard of a cursed condom, or spoon and the least significant item cursed in the book was a pair of shoes which would attempt to trip its wearer into dangerous situations.
Feeling some trepidation about the Room of Requirement, after having found out how bad things could get, Harry decided to simply leave particularly important-looking items out of consideration. The stronger the curse, the harder it was to break it. Although he couldn't really do that, could he? Considering the strength of curses correlated with value, then he would be ignoring exactly the things that he would want to sell the most. He sighed and opened up the next book. 'The Compendium of Curse-breaking,' by Jonathan Figs; not to be confused with the 'Curse-breaking Compendium,' by John Figgs. Harry started reading and was glad to see that this book actually seemed to detail the steps necessary to becoming a curse-breaker and what abilities one generally needed to be a good, and therefore, not a dead one.
The description of the ability that one seemed to need the most, to the point where the author mentioned that one shouldn't even bother if one couldn't learn it, swirled in his head as he closed the book. The ability to perceive the magic outside of one's body. He could see the need for something like that when interacting with inherently magical items, but the book hadn't been helpful in regards to telling him how to acquire the skill.
He sighed and stood up, leaving the last book for some other day. He had research to do, but not now. Now it was lunchtime.
"Heya Harry," a voice said from behind him, making him jump, pull his wand and twirl around. He dropped his arm when he saw that it was just Tonks and his other hand clutched at his heart.
"Fuck," he muttered, as the two fell into step and left the library. "You almost gave me a heart attack."
"Not a good feeling, huh?" Tonks prompted as she twirled one of her purple locks around her finger.
"Yeah well, still not something to attempt a punch over," Harry retorted, at which the girl rolled her eyes.
"Please, as if you have any ground to stand on when it comes to punching," she snorted, at which Harry slumped, defeated.
"Everyone saw that?" he asked.
"Well, no, but everyone's talked about it. Physical violence isn't that common here, you know. People are surprised it was you who did it. Prim, quiet, points generator Evans," she mocked while shaking her head. "Who knew you had it in you."
"I overreacted, but its too late for regrets, I don't usually go from 0 to a hundred in a second, but he managed."
"Well, I can't really say I care. I mostly came for that duel you promised," Tonks said, dismissing the previous topic. Harry mulled over his availability and realised that he would like to have at least this week to sharpen his technique against the dummy in the Room of Requirement, as he was now he would most definitely lose against a sixth-year. Give him a few days… and he would most likely lose to sixth year.
"How about Saturday?" Harry asked.
"Sounds good to me, just don't chicken out. I think it's really kind of you to offer me a punching bag, as you know I've been a bit stressed lately," she said with a laugh and they parted ways as they reached the great hall. She went to sit with the prefect who had hexed Harry after his punch at the sorting. They seemed close, but that was to be expected after you spent six years going to courses together. Harry went to sit next to Penny and Cedric, who were almost done with their meal.
"Wankers, didn't even wait for me outside," he accused the two, who shared a guilty look.
"Maybe this can be a lesson to not punch people?" Penny suggested tentatively, as Harry loaded his plate with food. Harry snorted and threw her a sideways glance.
"Lesson learned, Penny, lesson learned. I can't believe I'm going to waste my time in detention for this," he said. Penny cringed and awkwardly rubbed the back of her head. Cedric meanwhile, laughed.
"Not the lesson she meant, mate!"
章節 41: Chapter 37: A not so charming Charms lesson
The sun was shining. It was a warm September evening. One of those last days of summer, which made people realise that not even a week ago, it had been August. The birds were chirping their sleep-shattering high-pitched chirps, the suits of armour were gleaming in the sun-light that pierced the not so virginal windows of Hogwarts and the atmosphere in front of the Charms classroom was awkward.
Harry didn't necessarily feel like he was a person that cared much about the opinion of others, or a weird atmosphere in a place where he had nothing to fear. But standing there amongst a bunch of students one year older than him, who were all staring at him, was an experience.
One that he wouldn't mind never repeating.
It would have been weird, and revealing had the Headmaster announced his advancement in charms to the whole school during his welcoming speech, but at this point, Harry would have almost preferred that over the weird looks he was getting. At least he was with the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. If it had been a group of Slytherins and Ravenclaws he probably would have become an immediate pariah. For wildly different reasons. He glanced to his left where the Kent boy, with a bandage over his nose, was occasionally throwing him a glare along with some of his friends. He really had picked an interesting person to punch, hadn't he?
"Excuse me, are you, eh, lost?" a Gryffindor eventually managed to ask him. Harry looked the boy over from where he was leaning on the warm stone wall next to the door.
"Red hair, freckles, are you Fred and George's older brother, Percy?" Harry asked, causing the thirteen-year-old to grimace.
"I am. What have they told you about me? Is this one of their pranks?"
Harry chuckled. "Well, they mentioned they had an older brother in his third year. They said you're pretty cool, just that they like teasing you because of the way you react," he said while rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Percy sputtered and Harry continued, "I mean I can see where they're coming from. You helped me out by asking me if I'm lost actually. It would have been weird to announce to everyone here without a prompt. But now they're all listening in any way, so I might as well tell you, slash them," he babbled and stuck out a hand, for Percy to confusedly shake. "I'm Harry Evans, second-year Hufflepuff. I tested out of second-year charms and will be joining you for this year and beyond. Please take care of me."
"Hullo, I'm Percy Weasley," the boy introduced himself, mechanically and unnecessarily, before noting the second half of what Harry had said. "I've never heard of that happening. Advancing a year," he said with a hint of suspicion in his voice. However, any answer that Harry could have given was drowned out by the door to the classroom opening and Flitwick's voice beckoning them to enter.
As the students filed in Harry couldn't help but notice the large amount of full bookshelves lining the walls of the room. Those hadn't been here before and considering how Flitwick had asked him, last year, at some point, if he had his permission to teach his search charm in class… Well, suffice it to say that Harry had a suspicion about what today's topic was going to be.
The suspicion was confirmed when Flitwick shot him an apologetic glance as he sat down next to Percy. He wasn't feeling too warm about his fellow Hufflepuffs at the moment. The boy threw him an odd look but otherwise didn't say anything, unlike Harry's neighbour to the right. An athletic kid with short-cropped hair who sat on his wooden chair as if it were a broom and who was leaning so far forward on the desk that it made him look like he was trying to catch a snitch.
"Hey, I'm Oliver," the neighbour introduced himself as if Harry couldn't have guessed.
"I'm Harry," the younger of the two responded and thus created an acquaintance of two people with very common names. After having introduced themselves, both of them turned their attention to the podium, from where Flitwick was clearing his throat.
"Good evening, pupils. I'm happy to see all your yearning faces, thirsting for knowledge, after so long of being bereft of it," he started. Some students groaned, but Harry, with his adult experience, noticed that the man was being slightly sarcastic. Not in tone, but in content. "I hope you'll acclimate well to the evening lesson strategy we're trying out this year. We want to see if having a bigger break during the day increases engagement in the curriculum," he lied, like a fucking liar. The only reason the lesson was happening so late was because they'd had to schedule Harry somehow.
"To start the year off, we're actually going to be learning a charm that was made only recently. In fact, it was introduced at the Charms conference of Columbia this very summer, by an anonymous contributor. Some of you will be interested to know that it is the youngest charm I've ever taught at Hogwarts, most, if not all the classic ones that are considered the foundation of any education are at least several decades old," the professor said, before swishing his wand throughout the air. Dozens of parchment rolls flew out from behind the man, making him look like the conductor of a library and soon every student found one of the rolls deposited in front of them from the table. Other than one Hufflepuff on the other side of the classroom. His roll had gotten stuck on the chandelier. The boy and the professor shared an awkward look and Flitwick corrected the issue before continuing.
"The charm is not included in any commonly available textbook, as of yet. However, I have heard it shall be added to the most recent edition of the book of spells when it comes out in a year. If you open the parchments you will find the instructions on the top, along with a list of words written on the bottom. I would first ask you to read the instructions, which we will then discuss, before performing the task of searching for the words at the bottom with the spell. I'll give you, let's see, five minutes?" the man asked and nodded, as if pleased with himself. Harry was happy to see that at his words the students simply got to reading, instead of chattering with each other or making stupid sounds like children in their first year had often done when he was still in their class a year ago. He glanced at the instructions, just to check that everything was as he'd made it to be. It was, albeit a bit dumbed down, if possible.
He thought that he'd already made quite a basic manual back then. He shrugged and spent the next five minutes allowing himself to feel pride at what he'd accomplished. He had, essentially, left a legacy. A positive one, hopefully. The five minutes were over quickly and Percy was the first student to raise their hand.
"Why do we need to write the word down to use the charm?" he complained and Harry felt himself starting to answer the question before he bit his tongue. He looked instead to Flitwick, who twirled his moustache.
"The spell is quite formulaic, the wand gesture is especially long. Using a word that was written down eases the burden on a first-time learner. After some practice, you will learn to use the spell by simply imagining the word in your mind. But for now, parchment!" the man exclaimed with a happy hop, that almost made him take a tumble down the stack of books that he was using to look over the podium. He looked around and saw no more raised hands, to which he clapped his own.
"Why don't you try it! Remember the lock-movement has to be tight. Take a breath between the words if you're having an issue inserting the pause."
Harry looked down at the instructions and cast the spell, pretending to query for one of the words. But what he was actually querying for was the term Magic-sense, he felt the spell take hold and looked around, disappointed to see that there were no golden glows lighting up in his vision. Oftentimes books used a certain word once or twice, but unless it re-occurred often enough, there wouldn't be any relevant information inside. He'd been fooled often enough by this that he now didn't bother looking at books that used the word he was looking for less than seven times.
Since none of the books fulfilled his criteria he continued his search while the students around him butchered the pronunciation and the wand-movement of the spell that he'd so carefully crafted. He took a deep breath and cast again, this time looking for sense magic. Again nothing, although, he squinted his eyes and saw a book on one of the higher book shelves. Several of its pages were lighting up. Not thinking too much about it he summoned it to him, remembering at the last moment to use the incantation.
"How did you do that?" Percy demanded brusquely from beside him as he stopped in his attempts to make Harry's ears bleed with his pronunciation of littera. Harry looked up from the book he'd summoned, 'The Methods of the French Magical Militia during the war of English aggression.'
"It's just the summoning charm, I think you will learn it next year? It's very useful though, so consider learning it earlier," he informed the boy, who got red in the face, for some reason.
Harry cracked open his book, which seemed to detail the ways in which French magicals defended their homes from the English during the Hundred Years' War. All the way back in 1358. He was quite curious what the connection between mediaeval magical militias and magical sensing was. Due to his super awesome charm, he soon found the answer, even in a book without an index. He patted himself on the back.
Arcane Sight: The French magicals of the time, educated as they were in the newly founded Beauxbatons, seemed to have a special way of training that allowed them not to sense magic, but to see it. This was particularly important due to their usage of magical traps against the English raids. Being able to see the residue of the awaiting curse, they avoided falling prey to the precautions of their own neighbours, which allowed them to upscale the usage of their defences. They could not openly fight before their muggle compatriots for fear of being burned at the stake, as was so later the fate of Jeanne d'Arc. Their ability…
Harry skipped the next part, as the author rambled about how the ability of Arcane Sight influenced the conflict and contributed heavily to the fact that the English did not, in fact, hold on to any of the lands they'd conquered. He suspected that the author did not actually know how to cast the spell, or how to train the ability, or else he would have already mentioned it. His suspicions were confirmed by the end of the chapter.
So while I cannot ascertain what exact method Beauxbatons used to teach Arcane Sight at the time, for it was likely them who did so, it seems that the ability was much easier to acquire than the ability to sense magic. Sensing magic would have been much less represented in the magical population had it been the magic taught, due to its comparably heightened difficulty. I can only speculate that Arcane Sight was linked to the then part of the curriculum, sorcery, because those two subjects seemed to have been phased out at a similar time, to be replaced by Defence against the Dark Arts and interpretative dance…
The chapter about Arcane Sight ended there and Harry looked up from his book to see that class was closing out as well. Most of the students had seemingly managed to make the spell work and were now running around trying to find all the words on the instruction exercise. Harry felt a small bit of Schadenfreude when he saw that Kent was still struggling with the spell. He realised that making a spell was a very personal expression of who one was, and what one considered important. It would have been icky if someone like Kent had had an easy time learning it.
Harry leaned back in his chair and zoned out while the class ended and Flitwick assigned a few inches on the charms of the revelio family tree, of which Harry only knew one other.
"You're going to have to try harder than that, you know. If you want to pass the exam, constant participation in class is required," a voice from his left suddenly said. Harry turned his head and saw that Percy was addressing him as he packed his bag. "Anyway, you missed out by not paying attention and practising. The spell is genius, I'm going to the library to test it out right now." The boy sniffed, before leaving. Harry watched him go and tilted his head.
"What a dweeb," he eventually muttered as he stood up and leisurely made his way towards Flitwick, who was putting the room back in order, now that all the students had left.
"Sorry about that, Mr. Evans. It's an important spell that I felt like I needed to teach. Naturally, you are exempt from home-work, this time," the man said while he cast the repairing charm on some damaged books.
"I actually wanted to ask about something else, professor," Harry replied as he held out the book, page open on the chapter about Arcane Sight, to Flitwick.
The professor took the book in hand, looked at the front page and hummed. "Yes, French militia tactics. Let this be a lesson Harry, if you ever want to be a duellist, you'll have to trawl the oddest subjects in search of tactical inspiration. What about it?"
"I've recently been reading up on curse-breaking and the books have mentioned the need for the ability to sense magic. This mention of Arcane Sight is the closest thing I've found so far, and I wanted to ask you if this particular method, or maybe another one, is available at Hogwarts."
Flitwick looked at Harry sceptically over the rim of his glasses. "Looked up curse-breaking?" he asked, "You've only been back to Hogwarts for two days." He sighed. "Well, it seems a bit fruitless of me to see how you're doing in terms of classes until next term if you're already taking up such extra-curricular projects the moment the train arrives," he said as Harry smiled awkwardly.
"Curses are interesting. I read a compendium about a professional who'd encountered over a hundred different ones in his career. For the magic sense skill, just being pointed in the right direction would be fine."
"Well, Arcane Sight, unfortunately, is lost to us for the moment. And if it isn't, people are keeping it to themselves, just like curse-breakers and enchanters have their own methods of being aware of magic, which they usually pass on to their apprentices. However, the ability to sense magic is something that every witch and wizard can accomplish, theoretically. It's a subject quite beyond the Hogwarts curriculum, I'm afraid, so you won't find any literature on it. Or maybe you will? Well, anyway, to develop the skill at your age would mark you as a once-in-a-generation talent. Most wizards need to practise magic for at least a decade before they develop a good enough awareness of themselves that they can then turn this awareness outwards. There is usually a lot of meditation involved, which is a hard skill to master on its own and then on top of all that, Hogwarts is a hard place to develop the ability, due to how much magic is already present," Flitwick explained.
"Are you capable of doing it, professor?" Harry asked and got his answer by the slight pride entering Flitwick's face.
"I am yes, it's an indispensable skill in the duelling circuit and I dare say one can't get anywhere without it. It lets one notice traps, identify spells and gauge the exhaustion of one's opponent," he said, before looking down at his watch. "It's getting time for us to head elsewhere, though, Mr. Evans. As mentioned previously, do seek me out to discuss duelling after the winter break, but for now, I think you have enough on your plate," the man said and looked at Harry pointedly. The second-year sighed.
"Out of academic interest, how one would go about training the skill, after having fulfilled the requirements of experience and meditation?" Harry asked.
"Well, in that case, you would be advised to go someplace non-magical, without your wand, but with a powerful magical artefact. Then you would meditate and try to spend all the magic in one's body until the body develops a magical vacuum. This usually ricochets in helping become aware of the powerful artefact one brought, beyond the usual senses. After knowing how the skill feels, you just have to train it. It's also something that happens naturally, after a few decades of practising magic, if one pays enough attention while one does so," Flitwick said and dismissed Harry, who left, mind swirling.
"Didn't the Indians have chambers with null ambient magic inside?" Harry felt Flitwick mutter to himself questioningly, before the door of the classroom banged shut behind him, depositing him on the empty corridor late in the evening.
Harry didn't have any engagements tonight, nor did he care for the history of magic lesson awaiting him the next morning. He decided to take an executive decision to head to the Room of Requirement. He needed to practise his duelling as much as possible before he faced Tonks and until then he could brainstorm how to best approach being able to sense magic, then execute the plan after the duel. Considering that the skill was said to be important in both of the things that interested him this year, it seemed critical to look into it more.
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