A Promise Kept - Chapter 15 - Pursuits

Pursuits

She quite liked that seeing Harry on a broom reminded her of James. Her son was the image of his father, after all, only having inherited her distinct, emerald eyes. Nonetheless, she had never enjoyed seeing Harry fly. He had always been fearless, always pushed whatever broom he managed to find himself atop of to its very limits, and Lily had only been able to look in horror as he’d beamed whilst doing so.

Watching him fly was frightening enough, but knowing he would be playing in a physical game made her stomach twist in knots.

“You’re really hurting my arm,” Sirius groaned.

Lily offered him an apologetic look as she stopped digging her nails into his flesh.

Already, she was a mess, and the teams had not even entered the field yet.

It was the final match pf the Quodpot season between the Wampus students and those from the Thunderbird house. According to the chatter, it was the first time the former had reached the pinnacle of the sport in many years.

Not that it meant anything to Lily.

She hadn’t enjoyed flying let alone Quidditch during her time at Hogwarts, and she did not expect any different from Quodpot. She was here because Sirius had convinced her, and she wanted to show support to her son, even if the very thought of watching him risking his life sickened her to the very core.

“AND HERE COME THE STUDENTS OF THUNDERBIRD!” the commentator announced, eliciting a cheer from the crowd.

Many parents were in attendance; a tradition for the final match of the year, and there were even members of the media with cameras in the stand where the members of staff were looking on.

Evidently, this was quite the occasion, but it was lost on Lily Potter.

“THE FINAL MEMBER OF THE WAMPUS TEAM IS HARRY JAMES POTTER!”

Lily winced as the students around her roared at the announcement, and for the first time, she smiled.

It was the loudest of the cheers thus far, and they were cheering for Harry, just as her own housemates had cheered for James.

He had truly been an incredible flier and Quidditch player, admired by his peers for his sheer brilliance on a broom, and though Lily perhaps did not wish to face it, Harry was much like him.

She wiped away an errant ear and Sirius wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giving her a comforting squeeze.

“Is he that good?” she asked.

“He’s amazing!” one of the girls Harry had insisted she sit with gushed. “He’s already broken two records, and the second one was his own that he set in his first match!”

“You have to ignore Olivia,” the only boy among them sighed. “She gets a little too excited about Quodpot. You’d think it would be Maggie here, given her sister plays professionally.”

Olivia glared at the boy, who ducked behind Sirius, and the other girl, Maggie, scowled at him.

The one next to her, much older but sharing a resemblance laughed heartily.

“Maggie doesn’t like having a somewhat famous sister,” she explained, offering her hand. “Elizabeth Archer,” she introduced herself.

“Lily Potter.”

The young woman smiled.

“It is Harry that brings me here. Maggie wrote to me even before he decided to join the team to say I should watch him fly, but now I get to see him play. She seems to think he might just be something special. Well, he broke a long-standing record that even I didn’t manage to, so, I am intrigued.”

Lily felt herself swell with pride, but once more, it was the nervousness that took over as the match began, and a lump formed in her throat as she watched Harry get into a scuffle with another student.

His opponent came off much worse, a trail of blood spraying behind him from his nose as he gave chase, to no avail.

Harry weaved his way in and out of the opposing team before hurling the ball into the opposing pot, quickly breaking the deadlock.

Once more, the crowd cheered jubilantly, and the cameras flashed, but Lily would not look until the final whistle was over, and Harry’s feet were firmly back on the ground.

(Break)

He could only look on sadly as yet two more students were levitated towards the Hospital Wing, and it was a frustrated Albus that pondered what had transpired.

Miss Granger and Miss Clearwater had been found a short distance away from the library with the former clutching a mirror, both sporting expressions of abject fear.

Soon enough, the restorative elixir would be ready, but until then, it appeared that what had happened would remain a mystery.

With the revelation that Peter Pettigrew had been able to reside within the castle undetected, Albus had spent countless hours checking the security of the school, adding other measures to ensure he could not do so again.

For now, that only meant that the wayward man was not responsible for the opening of the Chamber of secrets on behalf of his master, a theory Albus had been considering.

Given there had been no further attacks in many months, he’d been hopeful they’d stopped, that Pettigrew had been the culprit, even if the headmaster did not understand how.

No, he was indeed missing something.

Somehow, Tom was behind what was happening, of that, he was in no doubt, but just how the Dark Lord was orchestrating these attacks continued to elude him.

“Albus, Minister Fudge is on his way to the castle with Lucius Malfoy,” Minerva informed him. “Bones says that he intends to arrest Hagrid tonight.”

Albus could only shake his head.

“Again, an innocent man…”

“I have sent for Sirius,” Minerva broke in. “If there is anyone that can prevent this from happening…”

Albus nodded appreciatively as he made his way towards the entrance hall, hoping that such an unnecessary measure could be avoided.

Hagrid was as innocent now as he’d been fifty years ago, and did not deserve to bear the consequences of something he had not done.

(Break)

The tactic of the Thunderbird team appeared to be to block Harry at every turn, to overwhelm him with numbers to take him out of the game completely, but he had not allowed that to happen.

Three of their players had needed to be substituted off to tend to the injuries inflicted upon them, and he’d scored nine pots of his own whilst assisting eleven more throughout the course of the match.

Even so, he was exhausted from the onslaught against him and breathed a sigh of relief as the final whistle sounded.

For the first time in more than twenty years, Wampus had won the cup, and as he landed, pleased for a respite, he was not granted it. Instead, Harry quickly found himself at the bottom of a pile of teammates, and he had to fight his way free, only to be hurled in the air.

“Let me go!” he protested.

His words fell on deaf ears, or it was simply because he could not be heard over the din of cheering.

Much to his relief, however, was placed back on the ground by the large wooden stage where the Quodpot Cup would be presented, and he was ushered onto the stage first, where he was greeted by the beaming Professor Clarke.

“Well done, Potter,” she congratulated, placing a large gold medal around his neck. “That was an impressive showing from you. I expect the same next year. I think I might like having that cup in my office.”

It was an enormous trophy, and as it was presented to a teary Captain Adams a few moments later, he held it aloft, bellowing joyfully.

“WE DID IT! WE ACTUALLY DID IT!”

The seventh year had been a nervous wreck all morning, refusing to eat and barely saying two words before he’d led them onto the pitch. Now, he was elated, having fulfilled his ambition of leading the house to their first championship in many years.

Allowing Adams his moment, Harry took his leave of the stage, only to be intercepted by a rather large group.

Immediately, he was pulled into his mother’s arms.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, fussing over him.

“Mum!” Harry groaned, noticing that his friends were far too amused by what was happening. “I’m fine.”

The woman’s gaze roamed over him before she nodded and placed a kiss on his cheek. “You were brilliant, Harry, even if I couldn’t watch much of it. Your father would be so proud of you.”

Harry nodded appreciatively.

He liked to think his father would’ve enjoyed Quodpot.

It might well be a simpler game than Quidditch, but if it involved flying and competing with others, James Potter would have been enamoured with it, just as Harry had become.

“I hope so,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her.

“Oh, he would find me panicking hilarious,” she chuckled. “Bloody prat.”

Harry smiled gratefully.

Lily Potter did not speak about her late husband much. Harry did not doubt it was still painful for her to do so, but that only made him cherish it more when she did.

“Where’s Sirius?” he asked, noticing his godfather was absent.

“Dumbledore sent for him. It must be important. You know Sirius wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

His mother was right, Sirius would not have left unless it was urgent.

“Well, I will let you enjoy your victory with your friends, but you had better write to me this evening, young man.”

“Don’t I every night?”

His mother smiled as she nodded, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“It was nice to see you all and thank you for helping me not completely lose my mind.”

She offered the group a final smile before heading towards the gates with the other parents, but the journalists among the visitors remained behind.

“They want to speak with you,” a woman informed him with a grin.

“You must be Elizabeth,” Harry greeted her.

“Do we look so alike?”

“You do,” Harry chuckled, accepting the proffered limb.

“Hear that, Maggie. You’re going to be beautiful too when you grow up.”

Maggie responded with a rather unbecoming gestured, but Elizabeth was unfazed by it, meaning it was likely a common occurrence.

“Anyway, you really are good, Potter, better than any other I’ve seen your age. I expect my manager will be watching you closely. You could have a really bright future in the game.”

“I might not play next year,” Harry said with a shrug, laughing as the older girl looked horrified by the idea of him quitting.

“No, you do not get to just quit, not with talent like yours!” she protested, shaking him by the shoulders.

“Bloody hell, I was only joking, but I have not even considered doing this for a living. I like playing, but there are other things I want to do more.”

“Like what? What is more important than Quodpot?”

“Lizzie, you’re getting hysterical,” Maggie huffed. “Harry is joking, aren’t you, Harry?” she asked pointedly.

“Just joking,” he chuckled, frowning as the journalists came towards him. “Got to go.”

He quickly slipped in the crowd to avoid speaking to the press, something Sirius had warned him about doing under any circumstances.

“Journalists do not care about the truth, Harry. They only care about selling stories, and they will twist your words to suit their narrative to do that. Avoid them at all costs but be prepared of the consequences if you don’t.”

Harry did not need an additional thing in his life to occupy his mind.

He had his studies, and the final few weeks of his second year of schooling to get through without the pressure of the press looming over him.

No, he was better off out of it.

He was already famous enough for reasons he’d rather not be, and he had no intention of adding to it by accommodating those that only wished to exploit him for their own gain.

(Break)

It was not often Sirius Black allowed his temper to get the better of him.

Playing his part in raising Harry all these years had taught him the patience he had lacked during his time at school, but it had certainly not curbed the infamous Black temper completely.

“Oh, we will see about this, Albus,” he murmured.

He knew that both Lucius and Fudge were among the most unpleasant of people; the former simply because he was a scumbag that had been granted everything he had ever asked for in life, even leniency when it had not been deserved.

Fudge was merely a typical politician who had somehow grasped all he could have hoped for when he’d overreached after the war had ended.

With all of the arrests, retirements, and changes, he had somehow ascended to the highest office in the land, but had neither the morals, spine, or intelligence to not become what so many others before him had.

He was a puppet of those that had clamoured to him, that had donated to his campaign, and other causes.

Still, to attempt such a blatant and disgusting disregard of the laws that much better man had introduced and implement was as despicable as it came from two prominent members of the Wizengamot, and Sirius Black would not stand for it.

The law is the law, whether or not we agree with it. It should always be upheld unless extenuating circumstances dictate it should be bent, and those circumstances are few and far between.

There are too many men on the Wizengamot who believe they are the law. I often find myself reminding them that they are not such, that they are merely servants, and vermin to squashed should they think themselves more powerful than they are.

Reputation and influence count for much, but each man and woman granted it are given only one vote on policy, and on law. As far as I am concerned, those that flout that responsibility, or allow themselves to be cajoled and compromised are not worthy of it.

Each should stand on their own morals, their own beliefs, and not be cowardly to be influenced by others.

Sadly, that is how our system seems to function. Bribery, blackmail, and intimidation are the strongest of tools for those with the means to wield them, which often means the richest, meanest, and most powerful will get what they desire.

Once more, his grandfather’s words were ringing true, but not this time.

Sirius would not allow Hagrid to be punished for something he had no hand in.

“What would you suggest?” Albus asked.

“Leave it with me,” Sirius urged, fastening his cloak as he left the office to make his way to Hagrid’s Hut.

The light was on, even at this late hour, and the large man answered the door, clutching a crossbow under his arm after Sirius had knocked.

“Professor Black, what’re you doing here?”

“Expecting someone else, Hagrid?”

“Dumbledore told me about the Minister coming,” the man answered sadly, “I needed to make sure Fang and the creatures will be looked after. Best you run along. You don’t want to get caught up in all this.”

Sirius chuckled as he entered the hut.

“I’m not a student that you are chasing out of the forest anymore, Hagrid,” he reminded the man. “Besides, Albus, and I’m sure he won’t me saying, lacks the ability and ruthlessness to help you as I can in this situation. Trust me.”

Hagrid nodded uncertainly, his eyes widening as a knock sounded at the door.

Sirius held up a hand to calm the man as he opened it.

“Ah, Minister, is there something I can help you with?” he asked cheerfully.

Fudge was taken aback by his presence, and he looked towards Lucius, who seemed distinctly unhappy by Sirius’s unexpectedly being here.

The blonde cleared his throat as he stood at his full height.

“Step aside, Black. We are here to bring the gamekeeper into custody,” he declared, gesturing to the four Aurors accompanying them.

“Is that right?” Sirius asked amusedly, frowning as the Aurors pushed past him, followed by the smirking Malfoy, and rather nervous Minister of Magic, who was fiddling with his bowler hat. “Well, on what grounds do you intend to arrest him?”

“For the very same crime he was arrested for fifty years ago,” Fudge said darkly. “Dumbledore was able to convince the Wizengamot to allow your only punishment to be your expulsion, but times have changed, Mr Hagrid.”

“Ah, so have we repealed the laws that require you to have evidence before you can arrest someone?” Sirius asked. “Well, have we?”

The Aurors looked at one another confusedly, and Fudge coughed.

“When there is reasonable doubt…”

“Your doubt is not reasonable,” Sirius cut in irritably. “Mr Hagrid was found to have been raising a dangerous creature during his fifth year at Hogwarts, resulting in his expulsion. Tell me, Minister, what was that creature?”

“An Acromantula.”

“One that does not have the ability of petrification. If untreated, the venom is lethal, and Mr Hagrid was rightfully punished for allowing one into the castle, but it was not the Acromantula that was responsible for the death of Myrtle Warren. She would have had to have been bitten by it, and having consulted the medical report, there were no markings to suggest she was,” Sirius pointed out. “You have no grounds to arrest Mr Hagrid, and I can assure you, I will not allow it to happen. It is the job of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to prove the guilt of a suspect, not the suspect’s obligation to prove their innocence. As far as I am aware, neither you or Malfoy here are members of that department, which means that you are abusing Ministry of Magic resources for your own agenda. Tell me, gentlemen, is Madam Bones aware that you are here?” he asked the Aurors.

“Well, no, but the Minister…”

“Does not have carte blanche to do as he pleases, and nor does Lucius Malfoy. I suggest you leave. I will be speaking with Madam Bones in the morning.”

The four men slinked from the room, and Sirius shifted his gaze once more to Fudge and Malfoy, who were rather displeased by the turn of events.

“Fifty years ago, this man was expelled from Hogwarts for harbouring a dangerous creature, but that is all he was ever guilty of. That creature was not responsible for what happened, and Mr Hagrid is not now. You are not the law, and you had no business coming here tonight. I will be calling a meeting of the Wizengamot to discuss your underhanded tactics and attempt to falsely imprison an innocent man. How do you think they will take the news?”

Neither answered, and Lucius conceded defeat by storming from the hut, and Fudge followed, though he paused as Sirius addressed him once more.

“The tide is turning, Minister. Surely you can see it already. Just imagine how much it will shift when my godson returns in only a few years. Do you think he will be so accommodating to those that served the Dark Lord and got away with it?”

“Those that deserved it were punished for their misdeeds,” Fudge snapped, placing his hat on his head and shooting Sirius a glare before he left the hut.

“Idiot,” Sirius sighed, shaking his head almost disappointedly.

Truthfully, he expected nothing less from Cornelius Fudge. The man had lost his way long ago, and there was little to nothing to salvage.

“Thank you, Sirius,” Hagrid said gratefully, pulling him from his thoughts.

“I was just doing the right thing,” he replied with a smile. “I think I’m going to pay a visit to the Hospital Wing. Do try and stay out of trouble,” he added with a grin.

He left the hut pondering the latest, unwelcome development, wondering just how it was Voldemort was continuing to attack the students despite not being in the castle himself.

It was perplexing, and Sirius had considered if the man had opened the Chamber of Secrets the previous year whilst he’d been possessing Quirrell for whatever was kept within to attack after he’d taken the stone, or if something more sinister was afoot.

He was more inclined towards the latter.

Voldemort was a calculated, ruthless man, and would not do something so risky without first ensuring the success of his other ventures, and stealing the Philosopher’s Stone had not been certain.

Not that it truly mattered now.

The Chamber had been opened once more, and students were being petrified. Fortunately, there had been no deaths thus far, but it was only a matter of time.

Sirius could only shake his head as he looked upon the two latest additions to those that had been petrified and brought to the Hospital Wing. Penelope Clearwater was a bright girl, quiet for the most part, but an excellent student.

The second girl would one day be a brilliant witch.

Hermione Granger had an exceptional mind for magical theory, and she was certainly no slouch with her wand. She was perhaps a little obsessive in nature, too willing to please, but she had a kind heart that most of her peers did not appreciate.

Sirius had developed quite the soft spot for her. In some ways, she reminded him of Lily, but where Lily had learned quickly not to be so pushy with others, and back down from time to time, Hermione hadn’t.

Nonetheless, she was a likeable girl who had not had the best of experiences of Hogwarts. Her test results were leagues above her peers, but the only friend she had made was Neville Longbottom, who seemed to not have inherited the talent of either of his parents.

What Augusta had done to the boy, Sirius did not know, but he was of a nervous disposition, lacking in confidence, and could be outright dangerous with a wand.

Perhaps it was something to look into, but for now, his concern was for the girl who had no other in the wizarding world to care for her the way she needed.

Her parents were muggles, which only meant that even if they were told of their daughter’s condition, they could do nothing, not even see her whilst she remained in the castle.

Sirius shook his head, frowning as he caught a glimpse of the simple mirror Hermione had been clutching when she’d been found.

Why had she been holding it?

Did she know something?

He deflated.

It was impossible to know until the Mandrakes were ready to be harvested, and the students that were here could be questioned about what they had seen, if anything.

Sirius rubbed his eyes tiredly, avoiding the frightened gaze of the young, and his own fell upon her closed fist where he saw just smallest piece of parchment protruding from within.

Given her condition, it took considerable effort to retrieve it, and when he did and read what it detailed, he felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach as everything fell into place.

“Pipes,” he murmured, speaking the one word Hermione Granger had written on the parchment, his mind awash with the many things he was considering, whilst doing his utmost to quell the fear he felt at the revelation of just what was stalking the students.

He wasn’t certain about Mrs Norris and how she had come to be petrified, but it appeared that Justin Finch-Fletchley had seen the gaze of the basilisk through Nearly-Headless-Nick, and Colin Creevey had seen it through the lens of his camera.

“The bloody mirror!” he whispered.

Having discovered the identity of the creature, Hermione must have been using it to look around each corner of the corridor in the castle, and both she and Penelope Clearwater had fallen victim.

“Lucky little buggers,” Sirius murmured to himself, in quite the state of disbelief that none had been killed.

“Pipes,” he repeated to himself. “Pipes.”

He began pacing back and forth as he continued to ponder what the girl had meant by it, only to freeze as all of the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

“Myrtle!”

Thus far, the ghost had been avoiding him, but Sirius realised he no longer needed to speak with her. It was in the very bathroom she resided in that she had been killed, and with Hermione’s discovery, he was almost certain he knew where the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets was; for all the good it would do.

It wasn’t as though he could enter, but he could ensure no other could.

With that in mind, he rushed from the Hospital Wing and made his way towards the second floor, only slowing down as he approached the bathroom, drawing his wand should the need to use it arise.

Pushing the door open, he found it empty, but he remained vigilant, locking it behind him before shaking his head.

It was a large bathroom with several stalls and sinks within, but he could not help but feel he was in the right place, which only gave him further clarity.

For months now, he had been watching the map closely, and he would’ve undoubtedly noticed if a male student or professor had been visiting this room regularly, as would Filch.

None would pay any mind to a girl coming here, and though it did not make any sense to Sirius just how Voldemort had managed to get one to do his bidding, he was quite sure of his observations.

He had spent countless hours watching the map, not knowing what it was he was looking for, searching for anything out of the ordinary. It was not a perfect creation, but it wasn’t so flawed that he would miss much.

No, although it remained rather confusing, Sirius Black knew he was onto something.

“What do you want?” a grumpy voice sounded.

Sirius all but jumped out of skin, but breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the teenage ghost glaring at him with her arms folded.

“Myrtle, I’m Professor Black, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor here at Hogwarts,” he introduced himself. “I’m investigating the attacks on the students. I know that you died in here. Could you tell me the last thing you remember seeing?”

The ghost wailed, and Sirius winced as her cries echoed off the walls.

He’d not intended to upset her, and had he known just how sensitive she was, he would have been a little more subtle.

It took several moments for Myrtle to calm down, but she continued to sob for several more before she pointed towards the cluster of sinks in the centre of the room.

“I told him to leave. I told him this was a girl’s bathroom, but he did not listen. Instead, he spoke in a funny language, and when I left my cubicle to tell him to leave, I died.”

“He? It was definitely a boy?”

Myrtle nodded.

“Yes, but I did not see him. All I remember was a pair of dirty, great, yellow eyes, and then I was dead.”

Yellow eyes.

It certainly coincided with what Hermione Granger was seemingly certain of.

With a nod, Sirius began inspecting each of the sinks in turn, lighting the tip of his wand to ensure he didn’t miss a thing, and then he saw it; an etching of a snake on one of the taps.

“Crafty bastard,” he murmured, casting a few charms on the sink itself before drawing just a drop of his blood and smearing it on the snake.

No one would be able to remove the magic, not easily at least, and certainly not quietly.

“Myrtle, have you noticed anyone in here more than usual?”

The ghost choked back another sob as she shook her head.

“No one comes here much,” she answered, “but I do not like to be here. I prefer to spend my time in the prefect’s bathroom.”

Sirius grimaced, pleased he’d not been given the distinct honour of wearing the badge during his time here.

“I would appreciate you not telling anyone about me being here.”

Myrtle nodded, and Sirius cast a disillusionment charm over himself before leaving the bathroom, vowing to watch the map to see just who it was that had unleashed the basilisk on the students.

For now, they were safe, at least, and he needed to inform Albus of his findings, but no other.

Sirius was not certain who he could trust, after all.

(Break)

“Potter is on his way, Agilbert.”

“Thank you, Tara,” the Headmaster said appreciatively, re-reading the sheets of parchment he’d received from MACUSA that morning.

The results of the WANE exams the second years had taken had finally arrived, something he had been stressing over for several days now. With it being only his second year in post, he was keen to show that he was the right man for the job, and a drop in test scores would not reflect well on him.

Fortunately, that had not been the case so far, and Agilbert allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief before picking up the results belonging to one Harry James Potter and shaking his head.

Oh, he already knew the boy was talented.

Tara, Solomon, and Thibault had been keeping him regularly updated of his progress, and it was unlike any of the three to exaggerate the achievements of their students.

Of course, praise was given where it was due for all, but the Headmaster had irrefutable evidence in front of him that Harry Potter truly might just be something quite special in his own right.

“Come in, Potter,” he called as a knock sounded at the door.

The boy entered, his expression one of confusion, and Agilbert offered him a smile in a bid to relax him.

“I had nothing to do with Adams’ underwear being hung on the flagpole above the Quodpot stadium.”

Agilbert was not aware of any such incident, but his colleague evidently was, and she quirked an eyebrow at the boy, who wore an unconvincing smile of innocence.

“Well, that is not why you are here, Harry,” she sighed, “but we will be discussing that later. For now, we wish to speak to you about your WANE results.”

“What about them?”

Agilbert slid the piece of parchment pertaining to his scores across the desk, and the boy read them.

“These are good scores,” he protested.

“They are exceptional scores, Mr Potter, very exceptional. Firstly, we both wish to congratulate you, but it is more of how you speak of magic in your answers that has me curious. You describe it in a way that someone with years of experience would, someone much like me, in some ways.”

The boy shrugged.

“I just seem to get it,” he replied. “Mostly, I can see someone perform a spell, and I can just do it. I can feel it, and it is as though it is talking to me, just not using words.”

Agilbert raised an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair, humming thoughtfully to himself.

“I would like for you to humour me, Mr Potter,” he requested. “I have an idea.”

The boy nodded, and Agilbert conjured a hood that would render the wearer unable to see.

“Put this on,” he instructed.

Potter did so, and the Headmaster shared a look of curiosity with his colleague before silently lighting the tip of his wand.

“Hold out your hand, Harry.”

He did so, and Agilbert hovered the tip of his wand over it.

“Can you tell me what it is you feel?”

“A Lumos Charm.”

Agilbert chuckled as he shook his head and fired a flurry of sparks into the air.

“Red sparks,” Potter spoke.

Agilbert frowned.

Being able to identify the magic was one thing, but the colour too was remarkable. With a nod, he cast three spells in a bid to confuse the boy.

“An animation charm, levitation charm, and a shrinking charm,” Potter reeled off.

“Very impressive,” Agilbert praised, doing his utmost not to laugh at the dumbfounded expression of his Charms professor. “What about this?”

He opened one of the drawers on his desk and retrieved a rather plain stone that was inscribed with several runes, magic the boy would never have encountered before given that this very stone was one created by Isolt Sayre, and formed a part of the protections of the office.”

Placing it on the desk in front of the boy, Agilbert did not expect much, but Potter continued to humour and astound him.

“This is old magic,” he murmured. “It closes a door of sorts, and has seven different locks. It would not be as strong if there were eight or six, but seven makes it more difficult to break.”

Agilbert could only shake his head in response as he and Tara looked at one another.

Perhaps Potter was familiar with everything else, but what he’d just demonstrated truly was an exceptional feat, not unheard of, but for one so young, quite so.

“You can remove the hood, Harry.”

He did so and blinked a few times to adjust to the sudden influx of light, and Agilbert offered him an encouraging smile.

“I am unsure if the incident when you were a babe is responsible, but you have quite the sensitivity to magic, but it is your understanding of it that astounds me. It is a real gift, Harry, and if you would just give me a final demonstration, I would be most grateful.”

Potter nodded, and Agilbert pointed his wand towards the window, manipulating it with a few twists and turns of his wand, casting an advanced protection charm over it.

“I would like for you to do the same on the window next to it,” he instructed.

This was a spell that was in the Auror handbook of the MACUSA, a department that was extremely protective of the spells it had developed over the decades since it had been formed.

Potter could not have read of it anywhere else, or even experienced it, and Agilbert was curious to see if the boy could indeed understand it.

With a nod, he complied, and though his effort was not entirely successful, it wasn’t because he had done anything wrong, but because his magic had yet to mature enough for him to cast it fully.

That would come with time, and although he appeared to be disappointed, Agilbert was once more taken aback by the boy.

“You did everything right, Harry,” he praised. “I could feel the way your magic was working, and I would say in a year from now, that will not be beyond your capability. It truly is exceptional, and you have more than proven yourself. Please, do enjoy the final days of your second year here.”

The dismissal was not lost on him, and he left the office.

“I don’t think I have ever seen anything like it,” Tara murmured.

“Nor me,” Agilbert concurred. “It is one thing to be born with or develop a sensitivity for magic the way Harry has, but to understand it, be able to cast it, and articulate it is not something I have encountered in one so young. That is pure talent, Tara, and nothing to do with what happened to him.”

“Well, both James and Lily Potter are and were thought to be exceptional. Minerva McGonagall offered to take Harry’s father on as an apprentice. That is something she had never done nor has she since. He must’ve been impressive. Thibault says Harry has spoken of things his father achieved that would beggar belief.”

Agilbert hummed to himself.

He was unsure if the Dark Lord’s attempt on Harry’s life had inadvertently gifted him such a sensitivity towards magic, but that did not truly matter. It was the boy’s mind proving to be equally exceptional that he was more interested in.

It was as though he’d been practicing magic for decades, intimately understood it, and could even replicate what he felt and witnessed with apparent ease.

It could be quite the boon to him in his future endeavours, but he needed to be nurtured.

“Are you still searching for an instructor for him in duelling and combat magic?”

Tara nodded.

“He was most keen on pursuing it.”

“Then I will instruct him myself. I have a few others that will be quite happy to assist me. I expect Mr Potter will learn a lot from us.”