94Chapter 3: Ill Winds
Sooo sorry! I missed posting a number of chapters! If you start here, everything should begin to make sense now. Thanks to JM2010 for pointing out my oversight!
Go, ill wind go away. Skies are oh so gray around my neighborhood, and that's no good. You're only misleading the sunshine I'm needing. Ain't that a shame.
Harry picked up the two folded parchments that slid across the highly polished floorboards from under the door as he stepped out of his bath, toweling his hair. He set the one with Neville's name on his desk and unfolded the one addressed to him.
"What's that?" Neville asked, emerging from his own en suite, his shirt open, and tie draped over his neck.
"Looks like class schedules," Harry replied.
"Excellent! What's first?" Neville turned to his mirror to finish dressing.
Harry glanced up at him, noting for the first time, that Neville was no longer the chubby nervous boy he'd shared a dormitory with for six years. His confidence was immediately evident, as he no longer stammered quietly, but spoke with authority. Neville had also lost the unassuming slouch that he usually loped around with, and one could not help but realize that he'd grown quite tall, and solid muscle had replaced flab, stretching out the vest he wore under his shirt in an entirely different way. Harry bit his lip as he watched him button his shirt and tuck it into his trousers before tying his tie.
"Harry?"
"What? Sorry?" Harry shook off his stupor, his face red.
"You alright, mate?" Neville summoned a pair of gold cufflinks from his desk. "I asked what's first."
"Yeah, fine—erm, Defense." Harry summoned his trousers and hastily stepped into them before shrugging on his shirt. "Cufflinks? Who are you—Malfoy?"
"They're my dad's. One needn't be a Slytherin to be a well-dressed gentleman. Anyway, I found them just last week. Gran presented me with my birthright when I came of age. I now have control of my vault at Gringotts, and I've taken possession of our home in Prewett Lane." He paused a moment. "I, erm, decided that she should continue as administrator regarding Mum and Dad's care. I'm—I'm just not ready for that yet."
"That's understandable. I still feel a bit overwhelmed every time I set foot in my vault or return to Number Twelve. I know it's my house, but I feel like a visitor still."
"Yeah. I don't even have a proper bed in my own room. It's still a nursery." Neville chuckled, pushing the post of one cufflink through the button holes in his sleeve. "Anyway, Hannah says she'll be happy to help me redecorate during winter break."
"Really? So, is this a thing for the two of you?" Harry asked, pulling on his jumper vest and adjusting his tie.
"I think so. We spent quite a bit of time getting to know one another during the resistance. She's quite lovely."
"And I'll bet she thinks cufflinks are sexy!" Harry teased.
"As a matter of fact, she does." Neville shrugged on his robes and grabbed his satchel. "Best get a move on, or we won't have time for breakfast.
Harry laughed as he grabbed his robe and satchel, following Neville from the room.
"Besides, I could say the same about Ginny's affinity for bespectacled wizards." Neville nudged Harry with his shoulder as they rode the staircase down to the main floor, grateful that it only paused once to allow a trio of Ravenclaw girls to descend. Harry only rolled his eyes and grimaced in response. At the moment, he wasn't particularly certain of Ginny's feelings at all, and if he was honest with himself, he wasn't much more certain of his own.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I trust you had a comfortable night's sleep and are eager to get started. Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. As Headmistress informed you, my name is Professor Onwachimba, or Professor O. It makes no difference to me. Although my undergraduate house was Hufflepuff, you will find that I recognize no favorites—at least off the Quidditch pitch." He smiled. "As you can see from my curriculum vitae attached to your syllabus, after I completed my matriculation here at Hogwarts, I went on to a position with the Ministry of Magic in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, in the office of International Magical Law, and eventually to a post with the International Confederation of Wizards' Security Contingent."
Ron nudged Harry and pointed to the parchment. Harry examined the page and noted that the Professor had noted Chess Champion among his list of achievements while a student at Hogwarts. He looked up at Ron, who grinned and raised a brow.
"You will also note that Professor Flitwick has turned over sponsorship of the Duelling Club to me. If you are interested in representing your house, there will be a sign-up sheet in my classroom."
"A chess champion from Hufflepuff?" scoffed Yatin Bhagat.
"I did manage to defeat William Weasley for the title in 1988, after an eight-hour match."
"Weasley? That explains it!" Blaise Zabini laughed. Ron cut his eyes at the Slytherin in the next row.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Since when has a Weasley ever been a formidable opponent at anything?" Blaise shrugged indifferently.
"Perhaps you've forgotten the 1996 Quidditch Cup?" said Demelza Robins.
"Or the 1997 Quidditch Cup?" added Dean Thomas.
"Mindless athletics." Blaise scoffed. "Chess is a gentleman's game."
"And you forget that in 1992, Professor Dumbledore awarded Ronald for the best-played game of chess in Hogwarts history," Hermione pointed out.
"Yeah. In fact, isn't that how Slytherin lost the House Cup that year?" Harry smirked. Blaise only responded with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Well then, perhaps Messrs. Weasley and Zabini would like to compete for the opportunity to represent Hogwarts at the International Magical Schools Wizard's Chess Championship?"
"Really?" Ron's eyes grew large. Professor Onwachimba nodded.
"I'll give you all of the relevant information after class," he said. "How about you, Mr. Zabini? Each house may put forward two members for Hogwarts Champion."
"Whatever," Blaise shrugged.
"Very good!" Onwachimba clapped his hands together smartly. "Now then, let us commence with today's lesson. Wandless Magic." He summoned a blackboard forward. "Would anyone care to elucidate? …Ah, yes, Miss Granger, is it?"
"Yes, Professor. Clearly, wandless magic is the ability to perform spells without the use of a wand. However, due to the general volatility of magic, performing spells without a wand reliably is considered highly dangerous, and therefore successful execution of such is considered the mark of a particularly disciplined and powerful witch or wizard."
"Very good, Miss Granger. Twenty points to Gryffindor. I see that you are quite acquainted with Magical Theory." Professor Onwachimba clasped his hands behind his back as he paced slowly up the aisle. "Who can tell me of exceptions to this general theory? Mr. Longbottom?"
"Sir, house elves and goblins are known to perform certain magical acts without wands. This has been a source of discord between goblins and humans for millennia."
"Well, done, sir. Twenty points to Gryffindor. Let us go back to humans for just a moment. I am certain that anyone who has purchased a wand from Mr. Ollivander has been given his standard speech—"
"The wand chooses the wizard!" several students chorused, to a general response of laughter around the room. Onwachimba chuckled as well.
"Yes, yes. The purpose of the wand is to channel one's magic, thereby rendering the effects of spells more robust and accurate. Or in Mr. Ollivander's words: 'the best results always come where there is the strongest kinship between the witch and the wand…An initial magnetism, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard learning from the wand!'" He lifted a brow, imitating the timbre of the old wandmaker's voice, to the general amusement of the class. He gestured to the board, and a map of the world appeared. "However, it is important to note that the wand is a European construct. There are cultures which did not—and to some degree—still do not rely upon wands to perform magic. For example," He pointed his wand, and the United States stood out on the map. "Native American wizards in North America did not traditionally use wands prior to the arrival of white men. It should also be noted," He waved his hand over the board, and the world map was replaced with a large map of Africa. "Historically, Africans did not use wands to cast spells prior to the general adoption of the wand in this century. In fact, my own parents, who are originally from Nigeria, did not begin to use wands until they came to Great Britain in 1968. At Uagadou, where they attended school, students still prefer, and are taught to cast spells with as simple a gesture as a finger point."
Professor Onwachimba pointed his finger at the map on the board, and a rendering of the magical school appeared over the country of Uganda. My parents still tend to do most of their magic wandlessly, and taught me from a relatively young age. I can't tell you how many detentions I received from Professor Snape for arriving to class without a wand in my first year." He smiled.
"Slimy git was probably jealous." Ron mumbled.
"Professor McGonagall was similarly unamused." Onwachimba vanished the blackboard. "Mr. Longbottom, are there any other human exceptions to the general theory on wandless magic?"
"Well, Professor, it is not uncommon for witches and wizards under the age of eleven to perform accidental wandless magic, particularly when they are in danger or under emotional stress. My uncle Algie dropped me from a window when I was four. Fortunately, I bounced."
"Guess Malfoy was right first year then," Blaise snorted. "Had you landed on your fat arse, you might not have injured your wrist."
"Only because your swollen head wasn't there to soften the landing," Neville retorted under his breath. Harry snickered.
"Five points from Slytherin. Mr. Zabini, I will not tolerate disrespect of one's peers in my classroom, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Professor." Blaise scowled, slouching in his chair.
The instructor waved his wand, and an amorphous, fluid-like, black haze appeared in the air, hovering at the front of the room.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Luna Lovegood.
"Bloody hell!" exclaimed the wizard seated beside her. "Professor, have you gone mad?"
"Relax, Mr. Scamander. It isn't a real one, only a three-dimensional illustration. But as you are familiar with what this teaching aid appears to be, perhaps you can share with the class."
"It-it's an Obscurus. My grandfather kept one, years ago. He had it encased in a magical field to sustain it."
"What's an Obscurus?" asked Harry.
"An obscurus is the manifestation of the repressed energy of a magical child who is forced to repress their powers through physical or psychological abuse. An obscurus is a dark and parasitic force that can manifest itself as a separate entity which can erupt from the Obscurial—its host—in a vicious and destructive fury."
"Well done, Miss Lovegood. Twenty points to Ravenclaw." Professor Onwachimba began to pace the aisles again as he spoke, the oleaginous mass floating behind him.
"As you can see, one form of Obscurus appears as a black, fluid-like cloud. Sometimes, it may appear with a reddish core. There have even been instances where a face may briefly emerge from the entity, usually the face of its host Obscurial. Usually, however, the Obscurus is largely invisible, manifesting itself as a force which may cause objects to levitate or break without physical contact, or causing damage to structures and objects near the host, even targeting people at the source of the young wizard's distress. It has been described by some as an ill wind."
As the professor continued to lecture, Harry felt his chest tighten. He recalled his childhood at Privet Drive and the abuse he suffered at the hands of his relatives, his thoughts specifically centering on an incident at the zoo when he was ten, and again on an unnerving experience before the start of his third year.
Vernon's sister Marjorie, whom Harry considered a stern arrogant shrew, had come to visit. Harry was forced to serve the dinner one evening, at which the woman rudely suggested that Harry be beaten for his insolence, and repeatedly insulted his parents. Harry had shouted at her, Marge's glass shattering, along with the kitchen lights, just before his uncle's sister suddenly began to swell up like a balloon and float up to the ceiling. The entire event resulted in a visit from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, who punctured Marge and modified her memory. Fortunately, the best outcome was that Marge was never invited to stay with the Dursleys again.
"In its incorporeal form, others may experience the Obscurus as an ill wind—a sudden, powerful torrent out of nowhere, and focused on a particular target. The more distressed the Obscurial, the stronger this mass may be, even to the point of the host completely transforming into an Obscurus"
"Is there any way to stop an Obscurus?" asked Ernie MacMillan.
"They can be calmed by someone whom they trust, which will cause the Obscurial to return to its corporeal form. Typically, when a host dies, the Obscurus will vanish altogether, the one exception being the one that Newton Scamander managed to keep."
"Unfortunately, grandfather was arrested and nearly executed because he was accused of releasing the creature into New York City."
"Oh! Is that the one that Gellert Grindelwald unleashed in 1926?" Luna's eyes were bright and curious as she asked this question. Several students gave her exasperated looks.
"Yes. Were it not for him and Gran, it would have destroyed the entire city, and Grindelwald would not have been discovered."
"Erm, Professor, if an Obscurus can be invisible, how is one able to identify an attack by one?" asked Ron.
"Ah! That, Mr. Weasley, is the subject of your assignment for the next class session. One-and-a-half feet on the signs and effects of an Obscurus attack." Onwachimba vanished his model. "That is all. Good day to you."
Harry located Ginny as she emerged from the dungeons staircase on the seventh floor.
"Ginny, are you free right now?" He asked. She shrugged, waving to a fair-haired boy in Ravenclaw robes, who exited in the opposite direction. "Who's that?" he asked.
"Gael Ollivander."
"Oh, I didn't know that Mr. Ollivander—"
"He's his grandson."
"I see. Well, I erm, just thought you might want to have a look around the Turrim Victoria?" His suggestion sounding more like a question.
"I suppose. Everyone seems to be talking about it."
Harry went to reach for her hand, but she gripped the strap of her heavy satchel, and he covered the awkward movement by shifting his satchel to his outside hip as they walked. There were a number of sixth and seventh year students milling around the exhibits in the museum when they arrived, and again the sound of sniffling could be heard throughout the large gallery. Harry quietly gave the password, and they mounted the stairs to the common room. He paused outside of the door for a moment, not wishing to surprise her, but Ginny touched his arm.
"It's okay. Ron and Hermione told me about it at breakfast."
"Oh. Alright then." He pushed open the door. Ginny took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The sunlight streaming through the windows cast a rainbow of colors on her upturned face as she gazed up at her brother's smiling image.
"I like to think of him this way, laughing and doing what he loved—flying," she said, a tear sliding down her cheek.
After a few minutes, she finally turned away, and they moved to a seating area on the far side of the room, opposite the door.
"Ginny, have I done something to upset you?" Harry asked. Ginny looked away, her arms crossed over her chest. "I can't fix it if you don't talk to me. Is it because of Zabini?"
"I couldn't care less about that arrogant git," she replied.
"Well, what is it then?" Harry asked.
"You really don't know?" She reached down to open her satchel.
"Obviously I don't."
She pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet and shoved it in his face. Harry looked down at the picture of him sitting with an attractive dark-haired witch, enjoying a meal.
"Vietti?"
"Who is she, Harry?"
"Isabella Vietti. She's a Patrol Witch I was paired up with during that Auror Candidate seminar I attended last month in Cornwall."
"Why didn't you tell me about her? Why did I have to find out from the Prophet?"
"Seriously, Ginny? It was dinner! The place was filled with Aurors and other personnel from the DMLE!"
"But you're holding her hand, Harry!" Ginny insisted.
"Yeah, because she was showing me her engagement ring!" Harry replied with exasperation. "Ron was sitting two tables over! Do you honestly think he wouldn't have said something if I was up to no good!"
"Oh. Right." Ginny's shoulders slumped as the fight seeped out of her. "It's just that you've been so busy since the end of the Battle—speaking engagements and banquets and Ministry meetings."
"All of which I would have preferred to skip. You know how much I hate the spotlight. It's one of the reasons I decided that maybe coming back to school was a good idea. Perhaps this time I'd have a little peace and quiet to just be me—whoever that is."
"What do you mean by that?" she asked.
"Well, I—I guess I just mean that I don't really know who I am—who the real Harry Potter is. I've always been defined by what other people see me as. I'm The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, Tri-Wizard Champion, and Undesirable Number One. Now, I'm the Saviour of the Wizarding World, Master of Death—"
"Master of Death?"
"Yeah, I don't—never mind." Harry sighed. "Ginny, why do you love me?" he asked.
"What? Harry what kind of question is that?"
"I only mean that—" Before he could finish, Ron burst into the room, his face flushed with excitement.
"There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"
"Okay, you've found us, and?" Ginny gave him an impatient look.
"The International Magical Schools Wizard's Chess Championship!"
"Right. I take it that you've decided to compete for Hogwarts Champion," said Harry.
"Absolutely! I'm going to wipe the floor with Zabini's arrogant arse!" Ron replied with a malevolent gleam in his eye. "The Gryffindor House challenge is next Sunday. The top two players will face Hufflepuff two weeks after that."
"That's great, Ron. I know you'll win handily. Molly will be so proud."
"No! Don't tell Mum!"
"Why not?" asked Harry.
"Oh, Harry, you know how Mum gets," said Ginny. She'll shower him with letters and try to talk Dad into bringing her to watch the tournament. She just makes Ron nervous, and you know how he gets when he's nervous. Remember the year he made the Quidditch team?"
"Oi!" Ron exclaimed. "We won the Quidditch cup didn't we?"
Harry smirked and gave a shrug, remembering how he'd tricked Ron into thinking that he'd spiked his juice with Felix Felicis.
"I'm meeting Professor O after dinner for a practice session." The clock chimed the quarter-hour. "Blimey! Only fifteen minutes until Herbology! Is it me, or are the breaks much shorter this year?"