Harry Potter and the Circle of Oblivion

“No, no, Harry.” Dumbledore said quietly. “You mustn't complicate it.”

Harry sighed. The only movement the small stone which lay barely an inch below his hand had made in the last thirty minutes was a slight jiggle when Dumbledore accidentally bumped the desk.

“Well, it seems a bit complicated to me.”

“Only because you think it so.”

“I'm sorry?” Harry was getting rather frustrated.

“As I told you last week, you are focusing on the wrong thing. With your patronus you mastered drawing upon the power of your happiest memory. That will do you no good here. A great prodomagus knows that his magic is not about power, but will. He centers on the object itself, then concentrates on what he wants it to do or will do to it.” He paused. “You see, Harry, our greatest obstacle is overcoming ourselves and the notion that magic is always about being powerful. It is more about determination than anything else, just as it is the simplest things that are the hardest to realize. We are oblivious to them because of our need to find some greater meaning than what lies in front of us. Do not cloud your mind, Harry. If you want to pick up the stone, pick it up.”

Harry looked between Dumbledore and the shiny black pebble and raised his hand again slowly. That stone there, I want it to… Harry drew a breath, the stone was suddenly resting squarely in his palm.

“Very good!” Dumbledore said with a nod and a smile. “I think that is enough for tonight.”

Harry nodded and turned to grab his bag before looking questioningly at his mentor, “Professor, if wandless magic is so simple, then why do so few people practice it?”

“Ah, but I never said the magic itself was simple, Harry, for it is actually rather compelling to have complete control over another object. This you must recognize from the beginning or it will overtake you. No, the simplicity is that you need no wand or incantation to draw an object to you for the object is, and was, always there because you have thought it so.”

Harry left a few minutes later feeling much better about himself than after his first two lessons and made for Gryffindor tower. When he entered the common room, Ron and Hermione were huddled at one of the tables, books strewn about as usual.

“Harry!” Hermione smiled warmly. It was almost ten o'clock and the common room was nearly empty. “How was your lesson?” She asked after making sure no one was nearby.

“Alright.” He produced the little black stone and sat down, “It's not much, but I didn't pick it up with my fingers.”

“Very good.” She beamed.

“I don't know how you did it, Harry.” Ron looked frazzled, “My wand just spit little white sparks all night. I did get some sort of little bubble once. Expecto Patronum, Expecto Patronum. I'll be saying it in my sleep!”

“You'll get it. It took me ages. And honestly does it count when your time turner self is the one that does it first?”

“Of course it counts!” Hermione exclaimed.

“How was your class?” Harry asked, shifting his attentions to her.

“Yeah, how does it work? Do you know what you'll turn into yet?” Ron was glad to have his mind off of patronuses.

“No.” Her response was fast. “You see, you have to study the effects on the body and how to control different thoughts - well, you asked Ron - while you're in your animagus form. It makes me tired just to think about, so I'd rather not anymore. An hour with Professor McGonagall was quite enough until next time.”

“Yeah,” Ron stretched his arms above his head, “I'm a bit knackered, too.” He stood and stretched before grabbing several books off the table. “S'pose I'm off to bed. Expecto Patronum!”

Harry smiled after him, shaking his head, then turned to Hermione. “You're a terrible liar.”

“What?”

“Come off it. You'd shouted `no' at Ron before he finished his sentence.” He leaned in toward her, “You've already done it haven't you? You made it some sort of challenge for yourself to do it in three lessons just because of what Dumbledore said.”

Hermione only smiled cryptically, stood and said, “See you tomorrow, Harry.” Before leaving him alone, mouth open.

***

October was vanishing at a rapid pace. With hardly a moment's free time the trio had worked out a rather crammed schedule. On Mondays they had their individual lessons - Ron and Harry often had to contend with Quidditch practice as well but were more likely to be found in the pitch on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The D.A. - thanks to Hermione's fake galleons - still kept its irregular meeting times, often late at night, which was much easier with Dumbledore than Umbridge. The group still had to watch for Filch and Snape, but Professor McGonagall was known to turn a deaf ear when she saw the large assembly of students pass conspicuously by her door late in the evening. Hermione forced Harry and Ron to do homework with her on Wednesday evenings as it was usually the most open of the week, and on Saturdays when there was no Quidditch, the trio could be found lounging under a tree by the lake, soaking up what was left of the season's warmth. Hermione would relax against the massive tree trunk, book in hand and feet often resting in the small of Harry's back as he lay on his stomach drawing Quidditch plays on pieces of parchment with Ron. People habitually watched the three of them with bewildered looks on their faces, but they seemed quite content in their oblivion. Or perhaps they were just used to gawking passers-by after five years of practice.

By the end of the month they had all progressed in their lessons. At least Harry and Ron, anyway. Hermione remained tight-lipped about her advancement with Professor McGonagall, but Ron was announcing quite repeatedly among them that his patronus had kept off a boggart spider.

“Then,” he said one day during a break when the three of them were gathered in the library, “Lupin says, `Wand at the ready, Ron' - always says that, doesn't he? Anyway. Then he opens up the trunk and out pops an enormous spider. Worse than the one in class that time. And I just kept on with the charm until - BAM!” He slammed his hand down on the counter, causing Hermione to jump and the roll her eyes, “out pops a huge bit of silvery light! Got rid of that thing properly.”

“Then I suppose there's no need for me to tell you that `Riddikulus' would have worked just as well?” Hermione said, not taking her yes from the book she was fervently reading.

Harry shot her a dirty look, “I'm sure Lupin has his reasons for doing it that way. And if you're not going to tell us about your lessons, I don't really think you should comment on ours.”

“Don't get in a dither. I've told you before, Professor McGonagall doesn't want me to tell until I've been registered properly.”

“Not even us?” Ron said angrily, “Dumbledore even said he knew we would tell each other!”

“Honestly, Ron.” She looked exasperated and returned to her book.

“Honestly, Ron, what?” He whispered to Harry, confused at what meaning he was supposed to have gathered from her statement.

Harry only shrugged, “So, has it taken on a form yet?”

“My patronus?” Ron looked a bit flustered, “Well… er… not really. It's sort of… abstract.”

Hermione snorted.

The boys looked at one another and Harry smiled slyly.

“Harry, stop doing that!” Hermione jeered from across the table, suddenly empty handed.

“Doing what?” He and Ron both laughed.

“Taking my quill when I'm in the middle of writing. It was entertaining at first but after the 500th time it's a bit old.”

“I don't have your quill.”

“Yeah, what'd we want another bloody quill for?” Ron added.

She only sighed and held out a hand, looking at them fiercely across the table.

Harry tried to look as innocent as possible, but finally gave up with a sigh and drew the quill from his lap, placing it in her palm.

“You're in a right temper today.”

She ignored his jab. “Dumbledore didn't know what he was getting into when he decided to teach you potestas prodo, did he? And you two act like we don't have a six page essay on freezing potions due tomorrow.”

“Protest what?” Ron looked incredulous.

“Potestas prodo, Ron. The discipline of wandless magic. Potestas means power or ability and prodo means to transport, deliver or bring things forth.” She said quite condescendingly.

“Hermione, you have waaay too much time on your hands.” Ron said with a bit of amazement.

“And obviously, you do too.” She pointed at the ridiculous drawing the two of them had been working on of Draco Malfoy tap dancing in a dress.

Harry looked proud of himself, but before he or Ron could respond to Hermione's comment, Luna Lovegood sat down wordlessly beside Hermione and directly across from Ron.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, looking even more annoyed, and turned to face their new table mate. “Hello, Luna.” She said intolerantly.

“Hello.” Luna had turned her body toward Hermione but was still staring at Ron who had an undeterminable look on his face. “I thought you'd like to know that Snape's been hurt.”

“What?” Harry asked, suddenly alert. “When? How?” It was no secret that Snape and Harry held no affection for one another, but this surely had something to do with the Order.

“Dunno.” She shrugged, looking absentmindedly at the ceiling. “I overheard Dumbledore telling Professor McGonagall when I was leaving the hospital wing.”

“They were talking about it out in the open?” Hermione sounded flabberghasted.

“Not really. They were asking Madam Pomfrey about some sort of remedy and I just happened to hear…”

“Err..” Ron looked as if he were talking to a three headed unicorn, “What were you doing sneaking around in the hospital wing anyway?”

Luna's head jerked back to him, “Nothing. It's a great place for reading.”

“Yeah, what with all the sick people moaning in your ears.” His face was pink. “That's a bit off, I'd say.”

Luna looked undeterred. “You should try it sometime, then.”

“Ron!” Hermione said, “Shouldn't we focus on what she's just told us, not how she got the information?”

Harry nodded, “Something's going on.” He gave Hermione and Ron a knowing look and the three simultaneously began packing their books.

Luna remained seated. “Not bad wandless magic, Harry.”

He froze on the spot, “How do you…”

“I see things.” She smiled, apparently at herself, “Like Ron's patronus.”

“What!” Ron spun round. “How?”

Luna shrugged and Hermione rolled her eyes grabbing Ron by the sleeve of his robes and pulling him out behind Harry. “We're off, see you later, Luna.” She shot curtly over her shoulder.

“Bye,” the other girl waved, face to her magazine, eyes on Ron's leaving figure.

***

“We've got to find Dumbledore.” Harry said as soon as they were in the empty hallway.

“Aren't you forgetting that we have class in five minutes?” Hermione asked.

“Hermione, Luna just said Snape's been hurt, we have to find out how! Death eaters? Voldemort?”

“All this fuss over Snape? Maybe he just slipped on a banana peel and broke his bum.” Ron offered with a smile.

Both of his friends whipped their heads at him and said in perturbed unison, “Ron!”

“Maybe not,” he returned, a bit sheepishly as they continued on.

“Possibly either, but you can't skive off class because of it. And if we go early…”

“Gah!” Harry let out a frustrated sigh, the first indication of a temper that had been missing since last year starting to bubble up again. “Don't you get it?” He asked her, eyes ablaze, voice growing louder, “It's starting. It's all starting again! And you want to go to class and stare at the blackboard for an hour while Voldemort formulates his next plan!”

Hermione and Ron looked at one another, both recognizing the foul disposition they'd seen reign his humor during fifth year.

“Harry.” Hermione said quietly, “You're forgetting that our next class is Defense Against the Dark Arts.” She steadied her gaze, unfazed by his anger, defying it, “Tonks' class. If anything remotely important happened to Snape, she'll tell us. But, as I was saying, we should get there early.”

Harry looked at her, feeling like a wanker for yelling, and meant to apologize, but only said, “Oh, yeah.”

The three of them made quickly for the dungeon and found Tonks changing her hair from blue to red and back again. “What do you think?” She asked when she heard their footsteps and saw their reflections in the mirror.

“Blue.” Harry said quickly. “Tonks, we need to talk to you about something before the rest of the class arrives.”

“Oh.” She turned with a smile, blue hair in place, “What's up?”

“Well,” Hermione started, “We heard that something had happened to Professor Snape last night and thought that if it had anything to do with the…” She searched for another phrase besides `the Order' and finally said, “the group, then you would know.”

She looked at them peculiarly for a moment and said, “How you kids find this stuff out so fast I'll never know. But… yes. Something did happen.”

“What?” Ron asked eagerly.

“He was on guard at a specific post and was attacked by a group of Deatheaters. Dumbledore got to him in time, though.” She tripped over her own foot as she walked toward them, “He's put some sort of protective spell on us so he'll know the instant we've been touched. Won't tell us what it is. Anyway, that's not the point. Snape's fine. No need to worry.” She said airily.

“We're not worried about him!” Harry said in a rush, “We're worried about why he was attacked. What was he guarding?”

Tonks looked about the room for a moment as if she expected someone to be there. “I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you three this. I could get in an awful lot of trouble.”

“You know Dumbledore has promised to tell us,” Hermione reasoned.

“I do. I also know that what Snape was doing is very sensitive and not intended for public knowledge.”

“What that we do these days is?” Harry said bitterly.

“He was guarding muggles.” Came a voice from the corner of the classroom. “I will fill them in from here, Nymphadora. Please hold the rest of the class outside for a few moments.” Dumbledore stepped out of the shadows.

“Muggles?” Hermione's voice was drawn. “Why would muggles be important to guard?”

“These, as I'm sure you are formulating at this very moment, are not ordinary muggles. They are squibs.”

“Why?” Harry asked. “What do Deatheaters want with squibs?”

“It is not the Deatheaters that want them.”

“It's Voldemort.” Hermione finished.

Ron shuddered a bit at the sound of his name.

“Exactly.” Dumbledore said.

Harry realized the importance all at once, “He promises them power, doesn't he? If they'll join him, he promises them power. And Snape was guarding one that…”

“Refused him.” Ron finished, catching on as well.

Dumbledore mused for a moment, “I see I am not so needed as I thought.”

“But how does he give them magic?” Hermione asked, “You have to be born with it.”

“The genius of it all still lies in the mind.” Dumbledore finished, “Tom knows that squibs are hungry for what they do not have. They are offered a promise and are eager to take it at his assurance of magical ability. And when they accept, we believe he places them under the imperius curse.”

“Who was he guarding?” Ron inquired.

“Mrs. Figg.” Dumbledore's eyes roamed to Harry.

“Is she alright?” He asked.

“Yes. Quite fine. But in a secret location until further notice.” Dumbledore's voice plainly stated that Harry NOT try to seek out Mrs. Figg with a letter. “Nymphadora!” He called and Tonks turned on her heel, yelping out a response as she banged into the doorframe and a host of students burst out laughing, “You may commence with your lessons.”