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Harry Evans 121: Goodbye Friendooo!!!
🕑 Added 2025-05-22 02:00:03 +0000 UTCHarry came to blurrily on a decadently soft surface, his eyes opened, only to be immediately hurt by the sunlight streaming through the windows of the DADA classroom.
Wait! The classroom?
Harry shot up into a seating position as he tried to remember the last thing he’d been doing.
Duelling Quirrell, Aqua Eruptio, water ball, ice sphere, black glass, transfigure to snow and then nothing.
After his eyes had adjusted better, he looked around, noting that the classroom was looking like it had never experienced the cataclysmic event that his and Quirrell’s duel had turned into.
A strong smell of peppermint suddenly invaded his nose, making him cough. He blinked and turned to see Quirrell exiting from his private quarters at the top of the stairs at the back of the classroom.
Just like the classroom, the man didn’t look like a duel had ever occurred. He was even carrying a tray with a tea set, from which the smell was coming from.
“Good, you’re awake,” Quirrell commented as he walked down the winding staircase with impeccable balance before sitting in front of Harry on a plush armchair that appeared as the man was already making the motion of sitting down on seemingly nothing.
The tea set was deposited on a small round wooden table that appeared in a similar manner. Harry looked down to see that he was dressed in his black school robes, notably not wet, and that he’d been lying down on a rich red ottoman.
“What happened?” croaked Harry through a suddenly pounding headache.
Instead of answering, Quirrell pointed down at the tray, which, now that it had been set down, also revealed a large Honeydukes chocolate bar.
“Eat, drink,” the man commanded.
Harry picked up the chocolate, unwrapped the foil, and greedily bit into it. “I don’t like peppermint, though,” he whined, looking at the greenish tea.
Quirrell glared at him with pale blue eyes. “It’s for your recovery, a minor potion, peppermint and cherry wyrm guano.”
The boy pulled a face, quickly finished the chocolate before picking up the teacup and shooting it back. Surprisingly, the taste was pretty good, the guano, whatever that was, apparently neutralising all the things he didn’t like about peppermint. He didn’t bother asking. There were so many potion ingredients in the world that he’d never learn about all of them. Was it a wyrm that ate cherries, looked like a cherry or had the colouring of the fruit? Who cared, was Harry’s takeaway.
“I feel like I’m dying,” the boy croaked as the mixture settled in his stomach, making him fully aware of the abominable state of his body. Everything ached, and his brain hurt.
“You’ve managed something that most wizards don’t even have the capacity to do,” Quirrell chastised, “reach a complete state of magical exhaustion.” He shook his head at Harry’s questioning look. “Most wizards don’t have the ability to draw at the magic inherent to their being that is keeping them alive; only those with an immense amount of control can go beyond that line. Someone with less control reaching the point will simply have their spells fizzle out.”
“Keeping us alive?” Harry asked as he furrowed his brows. To his knowledge, wizards couldn’t get magically exhausted in the strictest sense either. There was no mana pool inherent to being magical. Rather, a wizard accessed a well outside of their body, and failed when the action simply required more mental resources than were available.
“We’re magical creatures, even if only minorly” Quirrell replied before taking a sip from his own teacup. “Magic is like a well, and wizards are delineated by the size of their bucket and their ability to pull the rope. But if you’re trying to fuel a spell that is beyond you and have enough control, rather than having the spell fail, the minuscule amount of magic already present in our bodies can also be used as fuel. A foolish idea for the young, a death sentence for the old.”
Harry groaned and laid back down. “What, because our unnatural old age is achieved through infusing magic into our bodies, so if it's taken away, a witch or wizard will just turn into dust?” he asked.
Quirrell’s lips thinned, and the corners turned up into a small smile. “As astute as always. To use muggle terminology, magic is permanently infused naturally to improve the biological, but some of it is always being used as fuel to drive activity as well, when the body technically becomes too old to function even with those improvements. It’s why you don’t hear many centennial wizards holding the mantle of the most powerful. After 100 years old, the amount of magic being spent on upkeep becomes higher and higher. When the upkeep requirement exceeds the drawing ability, a wizard dies of natural causes.”
Harry tilted his head. That made sense. For obvious reasons, it wasn’t something he’d ever read about, but, well, his body seemed similar enough to a Muggle one, so the only reason why he was likely going to live longer was because of his magic. There were many implications to this, for example, if he could refine the process of longevity, then would it lose less energy? Accidental magic, which this was, was always less efficient than an intentional spell.
“So by keeping the body young the upkeep cost can be lowered and life can be extended?” he asked.
Quirrell nodded. “Of course, it's only logical. If the body doesn’t deteriorate, such as under the usage of a philosopher’s stone, then the upkeep cost doesn’t rise. It’s also why becoming a lich is a way of achieving proto-immortality, after all, when magic just has to pilot a pile of bones that don’t deteriorate as quickly and dangerously as blood vessels, organs and the nervous system, it can sustain itself much longer.”
Harry nodded his head before frowning. He’d never even heard of liches existing in this world. “I’ve never even heard of liches,” he admitted, at which Quirrell shrugged.
“Britain is a small island nation that was magically never as significant as it was non-magically. Different continents have different magical traditions, and Britain is by far not at the top of the pile in terms of what’s possible and what isn’t,” he explained briefly.
Harry nodded. He really would have to go on a journey after graduation to explore more of this world. “The world beckons with promises of power and riches, but these promises inevitably crumble to ash in the mouth of the greedy when they realise they’ve lost everyone they could have shared it with in their pursuit,” he quoted absent-mindedly, receiving a sharp look from the professor.
The student suddenly realised something. “But wait, does that mean that Dumbledore is slowly becoming weaker as he grows older?” he asked.
Quirrell snorted angrily. “The old man is an exception, and his skill is likely to continue growing at a faster pace than his power deteriorates. Additionally, I somewhat doubt that he will continue on with his nonsense of death being the next adventure when it starts staring him in the face as he slowly ages. He has ways of extending his life, I’m sure of it.”
Harry remained quiet; there was no need to tell Quirrell that he was simply viewing Dumbledore’s from his own lens and was thus not receiving an accurate picture.
“So in the future, I have to avoid exhausting myself?” he asked, switching the topic back to his magical exhaustion.
Quirrell nodded. “You did too much too quickly, you used three spells that I would hesitate to even call NEWT level.” He looked at Harry intently, almost causing the boy to expect a mental probe, but it never came.
“You escalated first, with the purple fire tornado,” Harry thus simply said petulantly.
“I had the situation under control,” Quirrell groused, before pausing. “But, Aqua Eruptio, and so well cast as well. I didn’t know you were working on it…”
“It’s a new development,” Harry muttered. “A friend of mine is aiming to add a plus to her NEWT.”
“Yes, Ms. Tonks, an adequate student. I imagine the Auror Academy will be delighted to have her,” Quirrell remarked absent-mindedly before focusing the conversation back on Harry. “But, such a spell, I admire your work ethic, activity range and competency, but you should have quit then. This sort of magic can exhaust the mind more than one first notices. Having to wrestle the magic and then the intent summoned under one’s control. A spell infinitely more malleable than Fiendfyre, but likely still more difficult than anything you’ve ever attempted,” he warned.
Harry grimaced. If Aqua Eruptio was infinitely easier than Fiendfyre, then he really didn’t know what to do with the book he had on the spell. It sounded kind of cool to wield the flames of hell… But he didn’t want to sacrifice his life for the cool factor.
“Then of course, you followed it up with extremely advanced water manipulation,” Quirrell continued, shaking his head. “Shape and temperature, it almost seemed like you were trying to kill me.”
Harry awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. He wouldn’t have really minded if Quirrell died right then and there. That would have certainly been one way of preventing even the slightest possibility of Voldemort getting the philosopher's stone. “I got carried away, but I always trusted your ability to survive whatever I threw at you,” he said to the man with a thumbs-up.
The professor remained unimpressed and threw him a blank stare. “Had I as little self-control as you, you would have died.”
Harry nodded. “Yes, if you’d enchanted the black shards to be untransfigurable, they’d have cut me to pieces,” he admitted.
“Aqua Eruptio, Hydromancy at the level most will never even see before improvising an untransfiguration enchantment on the space in front of you,” Quirrell said contemplatively. “No wonder you became exhausted after. These are three magics well beyond not just an exceptional seventh year, but most wizards and witches in general.”
Harry puffed up in pride.
“Of course it would have been more effective if the spells had been wielded by someone who knew how to use them, but impressive nonetheless,” Quirrell said backhandedly.
“I’m sure we can work on it,” Harry said.
The professor’s gaze blanked, before he frowned and shook his head. “Unfortunately, I think that today was our last session together,” he said.
Harry, despite the trepidation with which he’d initially started meeting the man, couldn't help but protest. “But why, I have so much I could still learn!” he exclaimed.
Quirrell raised a hand in protest. “Don’t raise your voice at me,” he hissed lowly, causing Harry to immediately lock up at the tone.
“It’s a shame,” he eventually said, “but I appreciate the lessons up until this point,” he finished.
Quirrell nodded, took another sip of tea. “The end-of-year exams are coming up. It’s time for me to start assigning less homework and let the students study or not on their own merit. There will be nothing to correct, and thus no more base for our exchange,” he said.
Harry assumed the man simply wanted to focus more time on breaking through the traps.
“As for your progress,” Quirrell said. “I think that this year you’ve gone beyond mastering the fundamentals and have started looking at the magic well beyond that. It is a journey that will take many more years before it finally bears fruit, but I imagine that once it does, we will have another duel, one with higher stakes.”
Harry didn’t really know what the man meant with that so in lieu of answering he simply poured himself another cup of tea and took his own sip.
“I did, perhaps, for lack of a better word,” Quirrell started slowly, as if struggling with what he was about to say next. “Enjoy teaching you. It was what I had hoped for when I took on the role of the Defence against the Dark Arts professor.”
“You sound like you’re not coming back,” Harry replied.
Quirrell nodded. “It seems to be the case. The real world has its foibles but it is also where the most needs to be done. My time at Hogwarts has been brief, but rewarding. It is time to close this chapter of my life.” He looked like he didn’t want to go. Like he wanted to stay. Like he was saying goodbye to something more than just Harry.
In this moment, Harry wondered that for all his faults, for all the horrible things he’d done, that when Voldemort had come for that job interview decades ago, to hide the diadem. If he hadn’t been hoping for something more… An end to the eternal war of society. A place to call home.
“Cherished memories are sometimes the only things that remain,” Harry said gently with a smile. “And no matter the dark days ahead, a simple smile can be our biggest strength.”
Quirrell looked at his red-haired student blankly for a second before throwing his head back and laughing. Cackles and chokes escaped his mouth as if he’d just heard the funniest thing in the world.
Eventually, he said, with a dark smirk. “It’s going to take more than just a smile to stand up to the dark days ahead,” he purred.
“Maybe this world will need a hero then,” Harry said challengingly. “Someone to protect it.”
Quirrell chuckled again.
“This world doesn’t need a hero to protect it,” he muttered. “It needs an Emperor to guide it.” Silence. “Be on your way, Mr. Evans I look forward to what will become of you in the future.”
Harry weakly stood up from the ottoman as the professor turned away from him to stare down at the castle grounds with a lost look in his eyes.
“Farewell then” the boy said as he walked towards the door leading to the corridor outside. He opened the door and, without another word, left the classroom.
Comments
bor902
He'll come into play pretty majorly later on
Jubex
Do you have any plans for Grindelwald to have any significant part in the story?
Alkole
Thanks for the chapter
