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Chapter title attributed to Clive Staples (C.S.) Lewis: "The future is something that everyone reaches at a rate of sixty minutes an hour…whatever he does, whoever he is."
Chapter 10: Whatever He Does, Whoever He Is
Surprisingly Cho did not make a move towards Harry for the duration of the lesson, though he could keenly feel her eyes on him. However she wasn't the only one. Although there were none in the Transfiguration class, Harry remembered vaguely how Padma and Lavender had been staring at him through Defence class and breakfast respectively. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. No good would come of that attention, of that he was certain. Morbid feelings aside, both Harry and Hermione managed to transform their mice to Iain's satisfaction. They were the first, but far from the last. In fact, by the time the bell rang to signify the end of the period, every single student except for the three absent Slytherins had managed the feat; it was the highest percentage of successful transfigurations in Harry's memory. Maybe there was something to this insanity after all.
On their way to the Common room, during the study break the three of them shared, Harry and Hermione gave Ron a good-natured ribbing concerning Parvati, which he took with uncharacteristic aplomb. Somewhere on the sixth floor Harry was accosted by fifth-year Gryffindor Romilda Vane, and her miniature posse of giggling fifteen-year old girls. "Hello Harry!" she greeted excitedly.
Harry was apprehensive, but had no reason to distrust the girl. The one good thing that had come out of his mysterious relationship with Ginny: Romilda had apparently given up trying to drug him. "Hello Romilda, girls." Surely he wasn't expected to remember all their names, right? There were twelve of them after all! "How can I help you?"
This elicited another bout of giggling from all the girls, which Harry did not even try to understand. He didn't even comprehend girls his own age, what hope did he have with those years younger than him? Curiously Romilda was incredibly solemn now. "I just wanted to apologize for trying to drug you last year." She told him sombrely.
Harry was taken aback. He didn't know what he had expected, but that was not it. "It's alright, nobody was permanently hurt." He shot Ron a quick glance. "To be honest, it all kind of worked out well." Considering that Romilda's love potion was indirectly responsible for Ron getting poisoned, which in turn was indirectly responsible for his escape from the clutches of Lavender Brown, it really had all worked out.
Romilda shrugged, and pulled two boxes bearing the legend of 'Hotel Chocolat.' Hermione gasped and Harry stared wide-eyed. He remembered Dudley occasionally receiving a box of those chocolates for his birthday, or for Christmas, and every time he got one he would be singing their praises for weeks. Admittedly it did not take much for food to impress his overweight cousin, but he was so enamoured by them he even forgot to beat up Harry when he had a box. Naturally that was the reason they were given so infrequently. A rather depressing thought, but there you go. "I still feel bad about trying to make you love me, and about your friend getting poisoned. Here." He handed one box to Harry and another to Ron, and scurried off with her friends.
Hermione looked thoughtfully after her. "Something isn't right about this. I was the one who heard her plotting after all, and I can't believe she'd have a change of heart so quickly." Harry figured she probably had a point, but he wouldn't refuse a peace offering. What were they if they couldn't trust each other? He slipped the box into his bag.
Ron had no such qualms. "C'mon Hermione, now you're being paranoid. They're just chocolates, and chocolates never hurt anyone." He commented, having wisely swallowed the candies he had stuffed into his mouth before speaking. Hermione ignored him, and Harry figured that the only reason she didn't retaliate was because he had spoken out of ignorance rather than malice.
The rest of the Study Period had been spent by the trio in different ways. Hermione read partway through the textbook Iain had assigned, which turned out to be a muggle novel called Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by a muggle named Lewis Carroll. The novel had been rebound, with the cover bearing the title Elementary Transfiguration Through Psychokinesis by Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. Ron had engaged Neville in a game of chess, had moved on to Seamus a few wins later, and ended on Dean with a total of sixteen wins zero losses. Harry had spent the time going through one of books on Rowena Ravenclaw he had brought with him from his library. He was no closer to finding a clue about the Horcrux's location at four thirty, when Hermione interrupted him for Potions, than he had been when he had started an hour and a half before.
Potions class was generally disinteresting. Slughorn still had his cauldrons of potions, and the only change was that there was no longer a supply of Polyjuice at the front of the room. They worked on a relatively easy potion, following Slughorn's predisposition towards the whimsical: a hair-raising potion. Thankfully Harry actually had learnt a few things from Snape's book, though he was nowhere near the level of Hermione, and managed to produce a rather good one. Ron, on the other hand, had somehow managed to blow his up. He spent the rest of the day looking like he was 'hooked up to a Van der Graaf generator,' according to Hermione. Neither Harry nor Ron knew what a Van der Graaf generator was, so they kept silent about it. Whatever it was looked like, the result was extremely amusing (for Harry and Hermione) and extremely embarrassing. (for Ron) Hermione finally took pity on him and conjured a hat for him to wear to dinner.
On the way down Hermione got involved in a heated, yet surprisingly good-natured, debate about Professor Trelawny with Lavender and Parvati, and actually followed them to their seats in order to continue it over dinner. Harry and Ron followed, despite the glaringly obvious fact that their seats were extremely close to Ginny. He was so intent on avoiding the redhead that he missed the disappointed look that passed her face when he sat down across her and to the left. Somehow the seat directly across from her managed to remain empty. Only twice during the meal did Harry look up. The first time was when he felt several pairs of eyes on him, and turned around to meet the slightly disappointed gazes of Padma Patil and Cho Chang. The Asian girl was sitting with her younger friends at the Ravenclaw table, rather than in the empty seat next to Iain at the head table. Exactly why they were so disappointed was something he probably didn't want to know.
The second time was when a loud coughing fit from Mad-Eye Moody, near the end of the meal, turned every eye in the hall towards the head table. Moody seemed to be all but going into convulsions, until he actually turned into a frog. Next to him, a banner appeared over McGonagall's head instructing her to "give him a kiss." Quite red-cheeked, she did so. An absolutely livid Moody returned to his natural form, and both professors glared at Iain amidst the raucous laughter from the students. Iain was the only teacher who had not reacted to the display, merely continuing to eat his dinner with a polite smile playing around his lips.
With a vague feeling that would mean war, Harry left with the rest of the school to their various dormitories. Both he and Hermione were exhausted by their first day of classes, so they went to bed with nothing untoward passing between them.
***
Surprisingly little of note took place during the weeks between September second and September nineteenth of the year 1997 anno Domini. For Hogwarts School, where unusual happenings were typically a daily occurrence, this was extremely unusual.
The first of the noteworthy events, occurring during their next Transfiguration class on the following Friday, was a rather interesting lecture concerning the nature of magic. As was apparently his custom, Iain had made this class a theoretical study. The subject matter was, quite literally, theory of magic. When the class had filed in, including a rather frightened looking Theodore Nott, they had been greeted by a life-sized drawing of a human on the front blackboard. It wasn't so much a drawing as an outline, but it was still rather impressive. Iain stepped forward from a patch what had appeared to be empty air, making poor Nott ump about a foot off his seat, and the lesson began.
"Good morning. In continuation of our brief lesson Tuesday, I thought it might be useful if we examined the source of magic." The entire class looked rather interested by this. It was something covered by no teacher they had ever had. "Now, who can tell me where magic comes from?" he looked over the sparsely raised hands with his usual enthusiasm. "Mister Boot, if you would?"
Terry cleared his throat, looking quite pleased with himself for being selected. "From our magical cores." He replied primly. His smirk was dripping with self-confidence. It wasn't as arrogant as Malfoy's had been, but it was irritating in its own respect. Harry did not miss how the Ravenclaw's eyes flickered over to Hermione briefly, as though he was seeking for approval or congratulations.
Iain was thoughtful. "Well, yes and no actually. Allow me to explain." Very kind of him. It was shockingly apparent that not a single person in the class, Ravenclaws and Hermione included, had the faintest notion what he meant. "It is true that your magic comes from within, but does anyone know where the magical core actually is?" most people shook their heads, some placed their hands over their hearts, and even fewer just looked thoughtful. "No, it isn't your heart. In order to explain this, I will have to refer to some basic muggle biology. I apologize if some of this is new to you."
The Scot began to pace the front of the room. "Your body has a variety of systems that help it, and indeed cause it, to function. There are no less than a dozen of these, but some of the most basic are the cardiovascular system and the nervous system." As he named the two systems the drawing on the chalkboard was overlaid with red and white webbings, respectively. "Each of these has a distinct center of activity: the heart for cardiovascular, and the brain for nervous." A red mass appeared where the drawing's heart would be; likewise for the brain, but in white. A wavy blue field appeared around the drawing. "Magic, on the other hand, is much harder to locate. Each person has an individual aura, which can be seen quite easily with proper training, but that only indicates the presence and strength of magic in a person." He gave the class an apologetic smile. "Unfortunately I can't actually prove this to you, so you'll just have to trust me that auras come in different colours and intensities, depending on the individual.
"The colour reflects the strength of the magic, and the intensity represents the quantity. Of course these are not set values. Just like the muscular system, your magic can be increased through practice. In theory, with enough practice, anyone could develop the power of Merlin or Dumbledore, God rest his soul." The class went into titters about that. None of them seemed to realize that accomplishing such a feat would require a large amount of hard work. Still, Harry had to admire the man; he had given them hope in a time when such a thing was a rare commodity.
To no one's great surprise, Hermione's hand rose. Iain nodded towards her. "You said that locating the source of magic was difficult, not impossible. Where does magic come from?" From what Harry could hear, the class was rather proud of their classmate for spotting the loophole in the professor's reasoning. Not too many years ago she would have become a source of ridicule for paying sufficient attention. It just goes to show how much psychological maturing children go through during puberty.
Iain's own smile grew. "Very good Ms Granger, very good. I could easily tell you, but I'd prefer if all of you would relax for a moment and watch me very carefully." The professor stood straight, outstretched an arm, and a small ball of fire appeared in the palm of his hand. "Did anyone see anything?"
Dean's was the only hand in the air. "It looked like something was coming up from the floor, kind of like a shimmer from heat."
Iain beamed. "Excellent Mister Thomas, ten points to Gryffindor.
"Mister Thomas was absolutely right in his presumption; what he saw was actually my body conducting energy out of the core of the Earth. Magic is derived, specifically, from geothermal energy. We, that is to say human beings, are born with a peculiar parasitic organism in our cells. This organism, which causes no harm to us, feeds on geothermal energy. The waste product it produces is absorbed by our musculature in the form of magic. Those of you who attended muggle school will understand that magic is, therefore, energy. Basic physics: energy cannot be created or destroyed." Iain's explanation was complicated, but it made sense with proper thought.
He went on to explain how accidental magic was caused by juvenile organisms' incapability to process the energy flowing through them. A combination of age and magical training strengthened the organisms to lessen and ultimately eliminate the releases. Of course, he warned, excessive magical stimulation could still cause accidental discharge. In the most extreme cases it could even cause physical damage. It did not escape Harry's notice that the Scotsman's eyes never left him for the entire discussion.
Shortly before the end of class, Daphne Greengrass asked the million dollar question: if all humans have this organism, why some are unable to use magic. Unfortunately, according to Iain, this area of thaumaturgical biochemistry was not yet fully understood. His best guess, however, was that it was due to a genetic mutation of some description.
***
The second thing that took place during the weeks immediately following the start of term was the apparent start of Quidditch training. Harry, having been rather engrossed in the research for Horcruxes, had absolutely no idea of the upcoming season until Coote and Peakes tracked him down in the farthest reaches of the Library. "Harry, you do know that Quidditch season is starting, right?" Peakes pointed out to him at the time.
Harry shot Ron a look. He shot Hermione another, and she nodded quickly. "Sorry guys, I have a lot on my plate this year." Both beaters nodded in understanding. The 'Chosen One' story that the Prophet had spread had really caught on. By now everyone in the wizarding world, and their grandmothers, knew (or at least suspected) that he was working on a way to destroy Voldemort. However, it still did not solve the problem at hand. Harry fingered the silver disk that had sporadically appeared in his pocket a few moments ago. It was not his Head Boy badge, which was pinned securely to his robe, which only left one possibility. A crazy plan materialized in his mind. He caught Ron's eye, and flung the disk over at him. Ron looked at it, then at Harry, then back at the badge. Harry nodded. "Go nuts mate."
Ron barely had time to profess his gratitude before he all but bolted form the library, presumably heading towards the pitch, with Coote and Peakes in tow. "Are you sure that was wise Harry?" Hermione asked. She had observed the moment with a light frown.
Harry nodded solemnly. "We all need a distraction. For him it's Quidditch, and for you it's books." He commented. "Plus I figured that having him at practice three or four nights a week would leave more time for me to have with my distraction." He added with a reserved smile. He scooted his chair over to her, making it quite obvious what (or, more accurately, who) his distraction was. Hermione flushed a most impressive colour of scarlet with this semi-public display of affection.
The third and final event of note occurred moments following the second. Harry had lain off embarrassing his friend, and they had both turned back to the books. Specifically they were looking for the orphanage where Voldemort had grown up. It was a long shot, but they didn't have anything better to go on. Then, out of the blue, Hermione was struck with a mighty thunderclap of inspiration. "Harry? What was in that box Dumbledore left you?" Harry instantly realized two things. First, he didn't know. Second, immediately following the first, he did. Together they rushed back to their common room, and found the shrunken box buried deep in Harry's school trunk. He lifted the lid cautiously.
Inside was a familiar stone basin, emptied, and packed with a selection of crystal vials. Harry picked up one of them. The label read 'Meeting with Tom Riddle - August 1938.' Just as he had expected, Dumbledore had left him his memories.
How many people can see where this is going?
I apologize to all MMAD shippers reading this. The Minerva/Mad-Eye bit is not exactly me slipping a new pairing under the doorstop. It is simply the result of Iain's peculiar sense of humour
Anno Domini is the expanded form of the well-known 'AD'