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The Feathered Serpent: Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2023-03-14 17:30:01 +0000 UTC“Morning,” the apprehensive voice of Tracey prompted them to look up, and they nodded. The brunette gave them a small smile and took her seat opposite them at the breakfast table before she started to put whatever she wanted on her plate.
“I hope you’ve sent a letter to your parents?” Harry asked without looking up. Tracey paused and nodded.
“Sent it last night. I should get a reply today.”
“That’s good. I’d like to get the formalities out of the way as soon as possible.”
Curt and precise. Tracey frowned but didn’t say anything. She had expected such a reaction from him. She chanced a look at Daphne, who glanced at her for a second before going back to her breakfast.
“We have Transfiguration first,” the blonde said. Harry nodded.
“I wonder if McGonagall will finally let us start conjuration properly,” he replied.
Daphne shook her head. “She asked to hold on until the month ended, remember? Taking time to master the basics before going to the advanced stuff.”
Harry shrugged. “Seems like a waste of time to me, to be honest. She’s already seen what we can do. It wouldn’t hurt to hasten it all a bit.”
Tracey followed their conversation absentmindedly. Internally, she was wondering if what she did was right. Sure, she could’ve done what they asked of her without asking for anything in return, but it didn’t feel right. She had been honest with them. It didn’t make sense for her to undertake this risky task without getting something in return. That’s how she had read things worked in pureblood circles.
She was certain they knew that. Sure, they were not happy to concede something, but no one in a position of power ever was. Everyone wanted things to go their way, and if someone happened to challenge that status quo, they didn’t like it. That didn’t make it wrong.
Tracey was hopeful that they would come around soon.
“Let’s go then,” Daphne said, and Tracey suddenly looked up to see that they were done with their breakfast and were already standing up. She could only stare at their retreating backs as they walked away together without a backward glance.
‘Okay, maybe not soon.’
XXXXX
The rest of the class was busy practising turning an animal into a glass goblet. Harry and Daphne were, as usual, in a world of their own.
So far, they had mastered the art of silent transfiguration and had almost eliminated the need for wand movements. The same applied to their other subjects that required wandwork.
“Try transfiguring this one into the smallest needle you can,” Harry encouraged as he transfigured a small needle into a large chair and put it on the table. Daphne nodded and tapped her wand to the chair, and they watched as it shrunk into a very thin needle on the table. Harry picked it up and looked at it, smiling as it shined.
“Impeccable as always,” he praised. Daphne smiled before taking the needle from him.
“Indeed, Miss Greengrass,” the voice of their professor made them look over to see her smiling gently. “That was certainly an admirable display of concentrated transfiguration. To combine so many parts that made that chair in such a dense structure is indeed commendable. And you did the reverse just a minute ago, Mr Potter. You two are improving at an incredibly fast pace, and I fear soon I won’t have much to teach you.”
The pair smiled at each other before looking at McGonagall, who sighed.
“I know I said you could not start on conjuration this month, and as much unfair as it might sound to you, I ask you to refrain even now. Instead, what I want you to start working on is Group Transfiguration.”
Group Transfiguration was a NEWT-level lesson, and they had only read up on it so far.
“It is ironical since we start Group Transfiguration until late into our NEWT syllabus, while conjuration, which can be more taxing on your magic, is covered right after OWLs. Perhaps it is because the scope of conjuration is much wider. However, I digress. You may use verbal spells for this. I expect that it will take you an entire month to master Group Transfiguration. Once you are done, you may begin Conjuration.”
Eager to get started, the pair nodded before smirking at each other. Like every other lesson, this was a competition, and they couldn’t wait to get one over the other.
McGonagall looked at the pair and shook her head before walking away.
‘So close, and yet so competitive. A complete opposite to how his parents were.’
The pair watched their professor walk away before Harry turned towards his best friend. “You’ve read it up, I hope?”
Daphne nodded with a smile. “Finished it last night, after, you know…”
Harry frowned. Tracey was still a sore subject for them. He looked over at where she was practising with Hermione. They were capable witches, and easily ahead of their peers. Daphne saw him looking and sighed.
“Come on, Harry. Let’s begin,” she prompted. Harry nodded.
Group Transfiguration was a complicated branch of magic that could be employed to transfigure a collection of similar objects into multiple different objects. It required a certain finesse over one’s magic to affect multiple targets in an instant. The art had multiple levels, and the more complicated it got, the more concentration and magical power were required.
Almost half of the wizarding population could not perform group transfiguration successfully, and it stood as a testament to how absurdly complicated the skill was.
However, instead of deterring the pair, this little tidbit that they had read further solidified their resolve to master this brilliant skill. It would be a very strong asset in their arsenal if they could become proficient and learn to employ it in battles.
Eager as they always were whenever practising magic, the pair quickly went to work.
XXXXX
It was an hour later when the class ended, and to their frustration, Harry and Daphne didn’t have much success with Group Transfiguration. They did manage successive transfiguration that entailed transfiguring similar objects one after the other, but they couldn’t do it all in one instant.
“I don’t think we should feel so down,” Daphne said as she helped Harry wrap everything up. “I mean, the time we need between two transfigurations is slowly lessening, isn’t it? I’m sure after a few days of practice, we will manage to get a hang of it.”
Harry nodded with a sigh. “Dad’s journal did warn me of this. He faced the same hurdle.”
Daphne smiled. “If a prodigy like your father had problems, you better believe the skill is hard. My father was not as good as yours, so it is understandable that even he faced issues. It’s amusing to read his little rants sometimes.”
Harry chuckled as he put the boxes back under the desk and watched as they vanished.
“I guess we just need to keep at it then,” Harry said with a small smile as he held his hand out. Daphne grabbed it and together they walked over to where McGonagall was sitting. The class had filed out already and only the three of them remained.
“Yes Mr Potter, Miss Greengrass?” the stern voice of their professor of Transfiguration made them straighten slightly.
“Professor,” Daphne began, “we’d like to ask something.”
McGonagall frowned but put the quill to the side and gave them her undivided attention.
“What can I help you with? I hope you are not asking me to aid you with Group Transfiguration already. It’s the first day.”
Daphne shook her head and looked at Harry, who nodded.
“We’d like you to oversee our animagus training.”
McGonagall’s eyes widened as she stared at the blonde. “Pardon?”
“You must be aware that Harry’s father was an animagus. We have the instructions in his journals. However, they couldn’t be more different from the published texts. We would like you to look over the methods and guide us.”
McGonagall frowned. “I understand you two are very ambitious and probably the most capable pair of students that have traversed through these halls in years, but I would caution you to think again. Animagus transformation is a challenging endeavour, and not something you should take lightly. It is something that will remain a part of you for your entire life.”
“We know everything there is to know, Professor,” Harry interjected swiftly, and the two women turned to look at him. “We are aware of the possible issues. But we believe the advantages are worth it. We do not want to go into this unprepared, and we know it would be best if we undertook it with you overlooking the process.”
McGonagall stared at the pair of brilliant students in front of her and sighed.
“There is not much danger,” she replied. “However, I fear you two are going too fast for your own good.”
“Professor…”
“Let me finish, Potter,” McGonagall cut him off, and Harry abruptly closed his mouth before nodding. McGonagall sighed.
“If we don’t count Conjuration, you are already well beyond the OWL level, and once you get started on your way to master Group Transfiguration, which, by my estimates, should not take you more than a month, you could pass your NEWTs with at least an EE as well. I fear that with the pace you are progressing, you won’t let your magic develop as optimally as it should.”
Harry and Daphne exchanged similar frowns.
“What do you mean, Professor?”
Instead of replying, McGonagall summoned a thick tome from the shelf behind her. They watched as she perused through it before placing the open book in front of him. Harry and Daphne leaned forward so they could take a look.
“Magic is a delicate ability. It needs to be nurtured in order to develop optimally. I know I told you to keep practicing and mastering spells, but even I underestimated how quickly you would grasp the concepts and even put them into application. Certain skills can be learned at a certain level. Beyond that, your magic becomes too condensed to learn them properly. Similarly, once your magic matures enough that it becomes condensed, only then is it deemed safe to practice certain magical arts. That is why the ministry has restricted certain magical practices which are not inherently dark. These practices pose substantial threat to your magic if you put too much strain before maturity.”
“And this maturity happens at 18?”
McGonagall nodded. “Skills like Group Transfiguration and Conjuration are taxing, but I gave you the permission to master them before 18 because your spellwork has proven that your magic has matured beyond that of a normal 16-year-old. However, should you keep going at this rate, I fear you will soon put extensive strain on your magic which is not going to be good at all.”
The pair nodded thoughtfully, before Harry asked, “Is there any way to overcome this limitation?”
McGonagall said sternly, “I would suggest you to not look for loopholes, Mr. Potter. Yes, there are solutions to everything, but I can never suggest you to practice the forbidden arts in any circumstances. Those are delicate branches of magic and should be left alone.”
Harry looked at Daphne, and he could see that she was as intrigued about it as he was. However, they didn’t probe any further. It seemed to agitate the professor, and it would not do to earn her ire.
“Then we will make sure to not practice magic that could prove detrimental to us. Once we are done with Hogwarts course material, we would work to further improve upon what we’ve already learned and keep practicing it.”
McGonagall sighed before giving them a gentle smile. “You two are brilliant students. I can count on one hand how many times I have said that to my students over the years. However, it is often the most brilliant who are the biggest headaches. I truly hope you don’t become another pair.”
Harry and Daphne couldn’t help but chuckle at her words.
“Now, about your desire to become animagi,” McGonagall brought them back to the matter at hand, and the pair sobered up quickly and looked at her. The professor pursed her lips.
“I feel it prudent that I oversee the process. It would be correct to assume that you will proceed anyway, so it is better if I am there to ensure nothing goes wrong. However, I must ask again. Are you sure? This cannot be reversed, and you will gain certain traits of your animagus form,” she warned.
Harry exchanged another smile with Daphne before they turned as one and nodded. McGonagall signed a slip of parchment and slid it across the desk.
“Fine then. We shall start this Saturday and will continue to work on it every weekend after lunch. Four hours per week would be enough. Give that note to Professor Flitwick when you reach his class,” she replied, and Harry picked up the signed note. With a respectful nod, the pair turned around and walked out of the classroom, deep in thought.
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The last class of the day found them sitting in the Defense classroom, with bubbles over their faces. Daphne looked at him and grimaced, unable to speak. Harry shook his head.
This was the class he hated the most. The subject was probably the most versatile and interesting of all, however, the teacher and the learning environment left a lot to be desired.
They watched as the idiot walked in front of the class with jittery steps, and Harry could not help but frown. There was no reason why an institution that prided itself on being the premier hub of magical knowledge should have hired such an incompetent buffoon to teach one of the most important subjects in the entire curriculum.
Alas, here they were, practising their spells while the turban-wearing idiot stared around nervously. The classroom reeked, and they had been told that the man had encountered vampires on his trip to Albania before the school year had started, and had spread garlic around his office and classroom in paranoia. It was so bad that Harry couldn’t even find the motivation in himself to do anything, and Daphne was no different. They had instead begun practicing the spells in the company of each other on the fifth-floor classroom, simply opting to do the very least in this classroom. Not that it mattered, since Quirrell rarely spoke, and whenever he did, it was his usual stutter.
Today was no different, and they simply opted to cast the green and red sparks to pass time. Bored out of his mind, Harry stared at Daphne, who returned the deadpan stare. He suddenly got an idea. Smirking, he continued staring.
Daphne’s eyebrows furrowed as she saw him staring intently, and soon, she grew self-conscious, wondering if there was something on her face. Her hand passed through the bubble around her head and she wiped her cheeks, before looking at him. Harry smirked and continued to stare in response.
She raised a questioning eyebrow, silently asking him why he was staring at her. However, he didn’t seem to be interested in answering and continued to stare. Finally, when she was getting fed up with his relentless staring, she saw him drag his eyes down her body before dragging them up and looking her in the eyes. He winked. Daphne could not help but flush a little.
‘You prat!’ She mouthed with a shake of her head and a fond smile as he grinned. In response, she repeated his actions and once she was done, she looked him in the eyes and licked her lips sensuously. A triumphant grin spread on her lips when his eyes widened and she smiled smugly at his slightly red face.
His wand flashed and he shot a red bolt right beside her head, and Daphne tilted to the side with a grin and sent her own red bolt which he ducked under. It soon evolved into them sending bolts of various colours at each other, ducking and dodging them with identical grins on their faces.
“Mr. P-Potter, Miss G-Greengrass, s-s-s-stop p-please.”
They abruptly ceased and looked at Quirrell who was looking at them with a timid smile. He nodded gratefully and walked away.
However, right at that instant, Harry hissed painfully and clutched his forehead as a searing jolt of pain went through him. His eyes watered up and his fingers clenched. His forehead where that scar was felt like it was on fire. Daphne had been looking at Quirrell’s retreating back, and the Bubblehead Charm didn’t let any sound escape.
The moment she turned around to look at him, her eyes shot open in alarm and she quickly rushed towards him, grabbing his hand and pressing one of hers right above his on his forehead. Her face inched closer until the two bubbles intermixed, and Daphne stared at him with wide eyes.
“What happened?” She asked, pulling his hand away from his forehead and looking at the scar. Never had she seen it pulsing like this. It was an angry red and looked like it had split open.
“No clue,” he grunted, before sighing as Daphne placed her hand over it and cast a wandless cooling charm.
“Better?” She asked gently. Harry nodded and leaned his forehead against hers. Both closed their eyes.
“I don’t know what happened. It started suddenly.”
“Has something like this ever happened before?”
Harry tried to recall but came up with very little.
“The scar has never hurt. Yeah, it started to sting a bit sometimes at random when I arrived at Hogwarts, but I chalked it up to being around magic. However, pain like this is new. It feels like my head will burst open.”
Daphne pulled back and looked at him in concern. “You think we should go see the matron? She might know better.”
Harry sighed and nodded. Daphne smiled.
“Okay, we’ll go after the class.”
She grabbed his hand and gave a soft squeeze before she returned to her place on the opposite side of the table. Looking around, she saw several students staring at them out of the corner of their eyes, and a few seemed to be whispering amongst themselves. She shook her head.
It didn’t matter what they were thinking or whatever rumours they would incite. She looked at Harry in concern, who was still rubbing the spot where his scar was, still red.
Yeah. Something was not right.
XXXXX
The moment the class ended, Daphne grabbed his hand and they walked briskly towards the infirmary. The blonde was in no mood to delay, easily recognizing that the matter could be serious.
Over the years, there had been a lot of speculation about the scar Harry had on his forehead, and she had read a few columns in the Daily Prophet from various researchers and other healers who speculated on what it could be. Theories ranged from advanced runes to malicious curses, with occasional mentions of debris injury thrown into the mix. However, nothing concrete had ever been postulated.
Daphne had often talked about it with her mother, who was a very capable healer herself. However, her mother had always maintained that without personally examining the scar, it was impossible to pinpoint what it could be.
However, now that she had been a witness to the scar reacting to something, she knew it was not normal. There was something inherently wrong with it. The grimace on Harry’s face also concerned her. Harry had a very high pain tolerance. She had personally observed it during their spars. For him to openly show his pain meant it was serious indeed.
“It’s still burning?” She asked in concern as Harry continued to rub the scar.
“Your cooling charm did help for a few seconds, but its worn off already. I won’t lie, Daph. It hurts like a bitch,” he replied, grimacing. Daphne nodded.
“Just a few more minutes. We’re already there.”
Sighing, Harry nodded and let himself lean on her.
Never before had he felt pain on this level. Not even when he had torn his ACL during a football match had it hurt like this, and he had been a child back then. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory. Calum had been inconsolable after that episode, and he still remembered the frightened expression on his face when they got home.
Luckily his magic had fixed it over the years, otherwise, Harry knew he would have always remained apprehensive about tearing it once again.
His musings were interrupted when the door to the infirmary came into view, and Daphne gently led him through. The matron’s eyes quickly zeroed in on them, and she instructed them towards the bed.
“What is it?” She asked, flicking her wand. A roll of parchment hovered beside her, and a quill was suspended over it, presumably to note down her observations.
Daphne took charge of the explanation, and the matron frowned as she listened.
“And this has never happened before?” She asked finally.
"Never."
“Alright, Potter. Lie down,” she instructed, and Daphne let him lie down before taking her seat beside him on the bed and grabbing his hand firmly. The matron noticed this and chuckled.
“I will have to ask you to release him, my girl. Your magic might interfere with my diagnosis.”
Daphne frowned but relinquished her hold on Harry’s hand, clasping hers on her lap and looking inquisitively as the matron waved her wand in an intricate pattern over Harry’s forehead. A frown appeared on her face as she muttered under her breath. The quill kept scribbling over the parchment until the matron stopped and sighed.
“We need to involve the headmaster with this. I hope that is fine with you?”
Harry frowned. “What does the headmaster have to do with this?”
The matron sighed. “In addition to being the headmaster, Mr Potter, he is one of the most learned wizard in the world. I would not have mentioned it if I didn’t think it was necessary. If you are reluctant, I will of course not insist, but I will recommend he be present here.”
Harry exchanged a frown with Daphne before he nodded. The matron waved her wand, and an ethereal Cobra emerged before rushing through the walls.
“The Patronus,” Harry whispered. The matron looked at him and nodded.
“Minerva did tell us that you two were far ahead of your peers. Can you cast it?” She asked, looking at the pair. They shook their heads.
“Only a mist.”
The matron nodded. “Keep at it and you will surely master it soon. Meanwhile, I think our guest is here.”
Right on cue, the ancient headmaster of Hogwarts walked in with a grandfatherly smile plastered on his face. His gait defied his age as he joined them and looked at Harry. The matron passed him the parchment, and Dumbledore looked through it with a thoughtful frown.
“Is it something serious?” Daphne asked, worry apparent in her voice. Dumbledore sighed and looked at the pair.
“I shall not lie and say that it is not complicated. You scar, Mr Potter, is a unique magical phenomenon that has never been seen before. People don’t regularly survive the killing curse, so no one knows anything about it. It is, as they say, uncharted territory.”
Harry and Daphne stayed silent, listening intently. Dumbledore smiled.
“It was me who took you to your relatives, and prudently, I did perform a scan of that scar. There was a concentrated mass of dark magic residue inside it, presumably an aftereffect of the killing curse. At least that is my hypothesis. Your current scans have showed no spike in that, so we do not have to worry. However, this sudden reaction does seem troubling.”
“This has never happened. My scar started to throb when I arrived at Hogwarts, when it had never bothered me previously,” Harry replied, frowning. Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully.
“It could be possible that being around a place with such high magical concentration like Hogwarts triggered something, which is understandable and has been observed with several magical objects. So we do not need to worry about that. But this latest episode is, I must admit, concerning.”
The matron looked at Dumbledore with a frown. “Is it possible that something triggered such a reaction?”
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. “There can be several explanations. It is also possible that being at Hogwarts initiated those throbs before they escalated enough that it caused such an extreme reaction. You were in Defense classroom when this happened?”
The pair nodded.
“Did you come into proximity with any curse or volatile magical object? Energies emitted by those spells and artefacts can cause a reaction like that.”
“No one cast any spell, and I do not think there was any volatile artefact either. Professor Quirrell doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who would possess something like that.”
Dumbledore didn’t reply, simply humming to himself as he stroked his beard.
“Headmaster,” Harry began, prompting the wizened old wizard to look at him. “Is it possible to get rid of whatever there is in this?” He asked, pointing to his scar.
Dumbledore frowned. “Without knowing what its true nature is, we cannot decide how to proceed, Mr Potter.”
“Then there must be a way to discover its true nature,” Daphne interjected firmly, making everyone look at her. “You didn’t see him when it happened. That scar looked like it had split open, shining a dark red. I have never seen something like that before, and I do not think it is normal either. Isn’t there any way to know what this scar truly is?”
Dumbledore exchanged a look with Madam Pomfrey, who shook her head.
“I can admit when something is beyond me, Albus. Beyond recognizing the dark residue which we have assumed is the consequence of the killing curse being rebounded, there is nothing more I can find out.”
Dumbledore sighed and nodded at the matron, before looking at the expectant pair of students. There was indeed something he could do. He had not tried to, because he did not see any reason. However, if the scar was reacting somehow, there might be something else at play.
“I shall need to discuss with a few people I know who have mastery in obscure magical arts, and as soon as I get a reply, I will contact you. Until then, I ask you to continue as you have so far. If there is any repeat of this event, I want you to come to me without any delay. The doors to my office are always open.”
Harry sighed and nodded. He could do nothing but put his faith in the headmaster and hope that whoever he was talking about was up for the task and would respond quickly.
“I leave Mr Potter in your capable hands, Poppy,” Dumbledore smiled at them as a majestic red bird flashed above him. The bird looked at them inquisitively before it quickly flew over to Harry’s shoulder. Everyone watched in surprise as it leaned over and poured drops of tears right where the scar was. Their eyes widened when the scar closed up, almost as if it had never split open.
“Majestic creatures, Phoenixes,” Dumbledore whispered with a smile, and they watched on in surprise as the headmaster vanished away in a flash of golden flames.
“Phoenix fire,” Harry whispered, mesmerised as he stared at Daphne who was looking at his forehead where the scar was. Her fingers traced the pattern, and Harry sighed at the soothing feeling. Daphne looked at him and smiled.
“Well,” the matron interrupted their staring, smirking when they abruptly turned to look at her. “Looks like you do not need to stay the night. I am sure there is nothing I have that could best the freely given tears of a phoenix. You may go then.”
Harry nodded before he hopped off the bed, and Daphne looked askance at him. He nodded, smiling.
“As good as new.”
The matron watched as the pair left with a gentle smile on her face before she turned around and busied herself with her potions cabinet and the small piece of parchment on the table beside her.
“Another batch of sleeping potions. I wonder why Quirinus has been asking for so many this year. Perhaps the vampire attack traumatized him more than anyone realised." She muttered to herself and sighed. "Severus will complain again.”
XXXXX
The time for dinner rolled in and Harry walked into the Great Hall with Daphne before they took their usual seat at the Ravenclaw table. They were in the middle of fixing their plates when a certain brunette took her seat opposite them and offered a small smile.
“Hey Hermione,” Daphne greeted her. Harry nodded with a smile.
“I didn’t see you after DADA?” She asked as she started on her dinner. Daphne exchanged a look with Harry, who shook his head.
“We were just practicing a few spells on our own,” he replied. Hermione nodded. It was a regular theme with the pair, and both she and Tracey had gotten used to it.
“I didn’t see Tracey either. Do you two know where she is? Usually, she joins me in the library and we finish our assignments together.”
Harry shrugged.
As if on cue, the girl walked through the doors and her eyes quickly found the object of her attention. She steeled herself before she walked over and slid into the seat beside Hermione. The brunette greeted her with a smile.
“You didn’t come to the library today?”
Tracey sighed. “I had something to do. Sorry.”
Hermione shook her head. “It’s okay. I understand.”
Tracey looked at Harry and Daphne, who glanced at her for a second before going back to their dinner. She sighed. They were still not happy.
“I got a reply from Dad,” she said, and three pairs of eyes turned towards her. She turned towards those emerald pools that were staring at her keenly and nodded. Harry looked at her searchingly for a moment.
“That is good then. We can deal with the formalities after dinner.”
Tracey nodded and went back to dinner. During the hour that followed, Hermione looked confused whenever she looked at them. She didn’t fail to notice that although Harry and Daphne were their usual selves around each other, they seemed distant from Tracey. Frowning, she wondered if something had happened. However, she did not probe. Her past had shown her that she always alienated people when she became too demanding, and she didn’t want to repeat those mistakes when she had finally made some friends. She could only hope that whatever the matter was, they resolved it quickly.
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To be continued…
