Making Magic Sing
“Sirius?” Harry called into the mirror.
“Harry?” Sirius’s face came into view. “How are you?”
Harry hesitated, everything he wanted to say drying up in his throat.
“Harry?” Sirius’s tone shifted and he set the mirror on something stable. “Harry, what’s wrong?”
“I -” Harry ran his hand through his hair and looked up at the silenced canopy. “I had a detention yesterday.”
“What for?” Sirius sounded calm, cautiously curious.
“Umbridge,” Harry said. “She said I acted in a way unbecoming of a student.”
“The same Umbridge Hermione wrote to us about?” Sirius asked.
Harry nodded, looking down at his hands. “Yeah.”
“What’d she do?”
“She said some weird things,” Harry said, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal.”
“What’d she say?” Harry watched Sirius watch him, his expression and voice steady, calm, and curious.
“I -,” Harry looked down. “I think I’m overreacting.”
“Tell me anyway,” Sirius offered.
Tears suddenly sprung to his eyes, stinging and he blinked rapidly. This was so much easier when he could slouch against Sirius and not look at him.
“She had me write lines,” Harry said. “I must not tell lies. Over and over again. Because of Professor Lupin and Cedric.”
“Well,” Sirius said, “that’s potentially a lawsuit right there, did you read the papers today, Harry?”
Harry nodded. He had seen them. Everyone had seen them. The hush that had gone through the student body was powerful. Fudge and Dumbledore, and by extension, Harry, had been up against each other this summer. Dumbledore had lost badly enough that Seamus would publicly question Harry about it. Now, Fudge had been proven a liar. It didn’t prove Harry’s words as true, but it did set a certain tone.
“She said, she said something weird.”
“What was it, Harry?”
“The family magic didn’t like the room,” Harry said. “It started to hum. I thought that maybe she was going to hurt me.”
“Did she?”
Harry shook his head, “She just had me write lines.”
“What did she say, Harry?”
“She said that it was a shame that I hid behind the House of Black and couldn’t receive a consequence for my actions,” Harry said. “Then she said that I had deceived you. She said she was going to teach me to tell the truth.”
“What did you say?”
“That you weren’t going to like this,” Harry blushed, ducking his head. “I told her that you were going to come to the first Quidditch match when she asked.”
“Good,” Sirius said.
Harry looked up, surprised. He’d felt like Malfoy when he’d brought Sirius into the conversation. Once the detention had passed he felt silly for overreacting.
“You bring me up whenever you need to,” Sirius ordered. “If the family magic was humming, Harry, you weren’t overreacting. What did she do next?”
“She, she just looked for a moment and then told me to get out my quill. The humming stopped when I left.”
“Bizarre,” Sirius said. “Harry, I won’t tell you not to get detention with her again because I know you but take your mirror next time. Hide it in your lap. I don’t like this.”
Harry nodded, frowning. “Nothing happened.”
“And we will keep it that way,” Sirius declared. “I don’t care if I have to come stand guard personally.”
Harry nodded, taking a deep breath to try not to cry.
Sirius, thankfully, knew what to say. “How was the rest of your first day?”
“I,” Harry said, trying to figure out where to start. “If you were a Dark Lord, what animal would you use?”
“Sorry?”
“I would use snakes. Neville would use bears. Ginny said militarized garden gnomes.”
“Grims,” Sirius said immediately. “I could blend in.”
“Seamus was upset I would say snakes,” Harry offered. “He said the press wouldn’t like it.”
“The press can choke,” Sirius snorted. “You’re a Black and a Potter, Harry. Do as you please.”
Harry laughed. “I wore snake jewellery today. It’s like everyone forgot about ignoring me during our second year.”
“Good,” Sirius said. “Make it so they can’t forget.”
“Is that wise parenting advice?” Harry asked.
“Probably not,” Sirius said, “but I still think you should make this your thing. Hai Hai would enjoy it anyway.”
“How is Hai Hai?”
“Great! I’ve enchanted a rock in the greenhouse to always be warm and he’s refused to come out. I think he’s quite pleased.”
“Good,” Harry said. “Sirius?”
“Hmm?”
“Can you see what pulls the carriages?”
“Thestrals,” Sirius said gently. “Yes, I can.”
“Why haven’t I been able to see them?”
“You have to have seen death, Harry.”
“But I saw Mum die,” Harry said. “Shouldn’t I have always been able to see them?”
“Did you?” Sirius asked, alarmed.
“The dementors,” Harry stopped short. “Well, I guess I heard it. Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Vision matters here,” Sirius said, pale.
“So if I were blind I would have never been able to see them?”
“Well, you wouldn’t be able to see much of anything if you were blind.”
Harry groaned.
“Thestrals are gentle creatures who get a bad rap. They look a little odd but there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Harry nodded. “Quidditch tryouts are this week. Angelina is channelling Oliver, she’s getting scary.”
Sirius snorted. “She cannot possibly be as bad as you’ve told me about Oliver.”
--
“You’re preparing for war,” Hermione looked up from the books piled around her on the out-of-the-way table in the library to see Luna and Ginny standing in front of her.
“We all should be,” Hermione said, studying Luna.
“What is all of this?”
“Fealty oaths,” Luna said serenely. “Like Merlin swore to Arthur.”
“Hermione?”
“House-elves,” Hermione said. “I’m trying to figure out how we enslaved House-elves.”
“Really?” Luna asked.
“Yes,” Hermione said shortly. “They used to be called Hobbs.”
“There are wild populations among the muggles still,” Luna said. “Especially in old, stone buildings. Humans rarely see them.”
Hermione blinked at this, “Source?”
“There’s a small group of readers for the Quibbler who like to go Hobb spotting.”
Hermione defaulted to an etiquette response - ask for more information. “Are you a part of them?”
“No,” Luna said, pulling out a chair as Ginny sat down. “Daddy lets me go through the fan mail.”
“Luna’s father owns, writes, and publishes the Quibbler.”
“That must be fascinating,” Hermione said. It was really, magical publishing was always interesting.
“You want to free the House Elves?” Luna redirected the conversation.
“Yes,” Hermione said.
Luna nodded once, decisive. “I can ask the ghosts if they know how to do it.”
“The ghosts?”
“Yes,” Luna said like it was obvious. “They’ve been here for a very long time. Long enough to know if Hogwarts has had house elves the whole time.”
“Oh my God,” Hermione said, slumping into her books. “I’ve been trying to track down a portrait.”
“There’s a portrait hall on the 7th floor that I can find for you,” Luna said. “It has portraits of the founders.”
Hermione looked up. “You’re joking.”
“Not at all.”
“Luna,” Hermione said. “People have been trying to find portraits of the founders for centuries.”
“They should try looking in the portrait hall,” Luna pulled out a scroll and unrolled it. “Have you had potions yet?”
Hermione shook her head.
“Then I supposed I can’t borrow your potion books for the essay.” Luna rose from her seat and disappeared through the stacks.
“This is gruesome,” Ginny tipped her chair back, one of the massive old books open in her lap. “Did you know they used to cut people into quarters?”
--
“Watch out for the mud!” Two students, one in Hufflepuff yellow and one in Ravenclaw blue, lurched to the side, knocking Hermione into the wall.
Hermione didn’t see the faces but clocked goblin wrought silver and gold in their ears. Purebloods.
“It’s too bad the House-elves are slacking,” Pansy Parkinson swept by with another Slytherin girl Hermione didn’t know. “I could only imagine what Hogwarts would look like if it was kept clean.”
They were getting bolder but she had placed the target on her own back. Shoulders back, chin up. It was time for charms.
“Be brave,” Mrs. Tonks instructed. “You’re the top of the class, not a textbook. Take risks! Fail! Ignore everyone else.”
“But -”
“Do it perfectly three times,” Mrs. Tonks said with a sigh. “Then you’ve proven yourself. Then it’s time to do it your way.”
“How?”
“You have been doing magic since before you had words for it,” Mrs. Tonks spoke with the same tone she used when Sirius was on her kitchen floor in the throes of a magically enhanced panic attack. “Can’t you hear your magic sing?”
“Excellent, Ms. Granger!” Flitwick squeaked. “10 points to Gryffindor!”
Perfect. Another try then.
Flitwick hadn’t seen but she didn’t need him to. Maybe if she repeated it enough she could believe that.
Again. Another feather flew across the room to the circle.
What did it mean for her magic to sing? Mrs. Tonks talked about her magic like it was alive; like it could think.
Maybe it could, Hermione hadn’t ever had family magic. Harry talked about it as echoes of past decisions and feelings.
What did her magic feel like?
Words shaped intention and honed focus. So long as she believed and focused on her own, she didn’t need to say the words but what was her magic actually doing when she did that?
“Accio,” Hermione summoned her first feather back. Obviously, her magic was using her wand somehow. Could she feel it? How did she summon books?
She set her wand down and held out her hand like she had as a child. Warmth gathered in her tummy, rising to her chest. Magic, a thrill went through her. That was her magic. It flowed through her arms and gathered in her palms.
Her second feather drifted toward her, easy as breathing. She caught it gently between two fingers and spun it as she considered her options.
Could she do it intentionally?
She found her magic, waiting for her in her tummy, tingling in her chest and pushed. It rushed through to her palms, building.
She squeaked, dropped her hand, and let her magic disperse.
Harry gave her a weird look.
“Sorry.”
Too much magic. Maybe it didn’t need a push then. Hand back out.
Her magic was there, bubbling almost happily. She imagined what she wanted to happen. Her last feather came zooming towards her.
Now to banish. Hermione held her palm out. The magic built, waiting. Nothing happened. She tilted her head.
“Depulso.” The feather shot to the ceiling.
Harry tipped his head back to look up at it, confused. Her feathers never did that.
“Huh,” Hermione said. “That was unexpected.”
“Do you need the hand motion if you aren’t using a wand?” Harry swept two feathers off to the circle at once.
Parvati turned around in her seat to stare.
“I didn’t think I did it when I summoned my feather.”
“Try it again.”
Hermione summoned her feather back from the ceiling.
“You swept your arm out just like we are supposed to with our wands.”
She had, hadn’t she?
“Depulso,” she said, sweeping her arm out.
The feather shot to the circle.
“You were right.”
“I need a badge,” Harry declared. “Hermione Granger said I was right.”
“Ok,” Hermione said, smacking him on the arm. “Now with my wand.”
“What are you doing?” Parvati asked.
“Working backwards,” Hermione said. “I want to try and do this wordlessly.”
“So you started wandlessly?” Parvati asked.
“I knew I could already do that,” Hermione said, picking her wand back up. Now that she was paying attention, she could feel the way her wand focused her magic to a fine point. “I’m just trying to figure out how to do it wordlessly with a wand.”
“Obviously,” Parvati said.
Hermione waved her wand and her feather shot off, back to the circle.
“Can I do that?” Harry asked, frowning at his wand.
“I’ve always done that,” Hermione said. “Well, the summoning part. I usually put my books back by hand. I assume other spells will be more tricky for me.”
“Why?” Harry asked. “Shouldn’t they be as equally difficult as it was to do with a wand the first time?”
“It’s about keeping control. It’s a lot harder to do specific acts of magic without something to help your magic focus.”
“How’d you do it?” Harry set his wand down.
“You have to find your magic,” Hermione said. “I can feel the edges of it.”
Parvati set her wand down as well, listening.
“Depulso,” Harry said, waving his hand.
“Bloody -”
“Oh, Merlin!”
Flitwick toppled off his stack of books, catching himself on the desk. Harry’s quill quivered where it was embedded in the wall.
“Too much power, Mr. Potter!”
“Sorry, sir,” Harry said, making a face. He turned to her. “That’s trickier than I thought it would be.”
Hermione nodded. “That’s why I didn’t do it the first time.”
“Depulso!” Parvati’s quill jumped once and fell back to the desk. “Damn.”
“Can you do it wandlessly and wordlessly?” Harry asked, ducking as a feather shot toward his open palm.
“Still too much power, Mr. Potter,” Professor Flitwick said joyously.
“Yes, sir,” Harry agreed.
“My magic wants to burst out all at once,” Hermione mused. “There’s no pressure behind it.”
“All I have is pressure,” Harry grumbled, tugging the feather out of the wooden seat back.
“I don’t think I have either,” Parvati said, prodding her feather.
“Well,” Hermione said, “what did you do when you were little?”
Parvati grabbed her wand and with a swish and flick her feather was floating high above their heads.“Merlin! Padma’s going to be so jealous.”
Malfoy turned heads as his wand lit up. He stared at the light, a slight frown on his face
A dazzling array of bubbles floated above them.
“Back on the task assigned to you,” Professor Flitwick’s voice came from each bubble, even squeakier than in person.
Hermione banished a feather wordlessly.
Professor Flitwick gave a small smile and went back to helping Seamus.
All was well.