The Third Floor Corridor
Early mornings were always the most comforting time of day. Back home, the scent of coffee would be strong in the air, along with whatever baked goods Fiona was making that morning. There was the constant humming of the machines, and the overwhelming feeling of safety, knowing that nothing could harm him as long as he was in the four walls of The Crow’s Nest with his parents.
Early mornings at Hogwarts, however, were usually chaotic, with four boys trying to share a bathroom to get ready and then rush down to eat breakfast before class, and the constant looming threat of Quirrell hanging over Harry’s shoulders didn’t help either.
So, mornings like this, where he could go out on a walk around the grounds and let his mind wander a bit, were a wonderful respite from the stress of school, especially having been stuck in the confines of the hospital wing for the last day and a half while his magic recovered.
Even if his best friends were following him, utterly flabbergasted by what had happened during his detention in the Forbidden Forest.
“I still cannot believe that you and Daphne helped a unicorn give birth.” Blaise shook his head, his eyes wide. “That’s just- It’s-”
“Completely mad!” Neville finished for him, throwing his hands in the air. “Amazing, but utterly mad!”
Daphne grinned at them, throwing her arm around Harry’s shoulders as they headed down the dirt path to Hagrid’s hut. After she and Harry had bonded over the incredibly horrifying and traumatic experience in the forest, she had been readily accepted into their group of friends, already donning one of the Contessa’s bracelets as a show of friendship only two days later. “It was terrifying, but we still did something amazing. You should have seen how incredible Harry was!”
“I wasn’t that amazing.” The boy in question replied, shaking his head. “I just… Followed my instinct.”
“Well your instincts are amazing, which means you’re amazing.”
Harry rolled his eyes a bit, a small smile pulling at his lips.
“It really was terrifying, though.” Draco chimed in. “Seeing the two of you covered in blood like that… I thought my heart was going to fly out of my chest.”
“Was it really that bloody?” Theo asked, to which the blonde boy nodded.
“It looked like a massacre. Daphne had a lot on her, but I think that was mostly from the foal. Harry’s arms and his clothes were drenched.”
“Can we not talk about how Harry and I were basically bathing in unicorn blood?” Daphne groaned, pulling her arm away and shuddering. “I still feel like I smell like it…”
“You smell like vanilla and roses, Daph. You’re fine.” Blaise rolled his eyes.
“Still! It was really gross and I would like to never relive it again.”
“Hopefully, you never will.” Harry shrugged, pulling away from the group and trotting the rest of the way to the hut, a smile pulling at his lips as he saw the golden unicorn foal- who he and Daphne had decided to name Nestor- happily munching away at some of the green grass in front of the hut. He was about to rush the rest of the way over, before the sight of the three Gryffindors who had also been out in the woods with himself, Daphne, and Draco stopped him in his tracks.
They had seen him too, and were coming closer.
And he really didn’t feel like dealing with them today.
“Hartford!” Hermione called, rushing up the hill towards him. Harry took a step back, before he bumped right into a familiar chest, Blaise’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder.
“Granger.” He said coolly, a polite smile on his face as he moved to Harry’s side. “What can we do for you?”
She came to a stop a few feet away, breathing heavily from running uphill.
“I just… Wanted to see how he was doing. Madam Pomfrey didn’t let any of us see him or Greengrass after we were all brought back to the castle. We came down to visit the unicorn-”
“Nestor.” Harry quickly interjected. “His name is Nestor.”
Hermione nodded a bit. “We came down to see Nestor, because we just wanted to see if you guys were okay.”
“They’re fine.” Blaise nodded, shooting a glare at Weasley and Finnegan as they approached, neither one of them looking too pleased to be in the presence of the Slytherins. “Harry was just a bit exhausted afterwards, and Daphne needed a calming draught to help her relax.”
“Oh, I’m so glad.” She sighed in relief, giving them a polite smile. “Well, see you in class, Hartford, Zabini. Ron, Seamus, let’s leave them be.”
She walked off after that, heading back up towards the castle. The two boys behind her followed after another few moments of glaring at Blaise, only heading up when they saw the rest of the group making their way down.
“...Thanks, Blaise.” Harry said softly, looking at his friend gratefully. “I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. Now, let’s go say hi to Nestor. I’m sure he’ll be excited to see you again.” Blaise smiled a bit, the cold expression on his face melting away when he looked at Harry again. “He’s young enough that the rest of us boys might actually be able to befriend him.”
“Maybe. I might have just been a fluke. He might be just like every other unicorn and run screaming away from you guys.”
“Hopefully not. I really want to pet him.”
—
“I’m going to completely fail History of Magic.” Draco groaned softly, flopping onto his side, the book in his hands almost crashing into the ground before Harry flexed his hand and caught it, slowly levitating it back up onto his friend’s bed. “Thanks, Harry.”
“No problem. Also, you aren’t going to fail.”
“Yes I am! All Binns has gone over all year has been the bloody goblin wars! What if we need to know about the Werewolf Code of Conduct? Or the inventor of the Self Stirring Cauldron?”
“Draco.”
“What?”
“You know that stuff already.”
“...Oh. Right.” Draco muttered, sitting up again and causing Harry to start laughing, covering his mouth as he set his Herbology textbook to the side.
Their exams were rapidly approaching, and while most of the students were cramming as much information into their heads as quickly as possible, Harry and his friends had worked out a schedule that was at least somewhat helpful, and were already feeling more than prepared for their upcoming finals.
Granted, Theo and Draco took their studying far more seriously than Harry did, but he was also following another one of his personal research projects. At his father’s behest, he had written a letter to the Contessa, explaining a bit about his ability to reach out and connect his magic to other magical things. He’d gotten a reply shockingly fast, alongside a well worn, ancient book that she said would have at least some of the answers he needed.
His eyes went back to the passage he had been reading, going over it for what felt like the hundredth time.
-
Magical Empathy is a talent that very few wixen are born with, and it’s something that’s near impossible to learn unless the talent already lives within you. In the simplest of terms, Magical Empathy is the ability to manipulate one’s magical core to reach out to other magical beings, living and nonliving, and make a connection between them.
A person with Magical Empathy is able to feel the ambient magic in the air when surrounded by it, oftentimes becoming overwhelmed by entering a new place with a sudden rush of unfamiliar magics. It’s due to this fact that most Empaths are reclusive, choosing to surround themselves with familiar, comforting magic, like that of their family and closest friends, and very rarely reaching out beyond that unless completely necessary.
The connections with these close friends and family members are far more intimate than an average wixen’s, because the Empath will begin to rely on the safety of these familiar people to keep themselves from becoming overwhelmed in new situations by focusing on their magic, and not the magic of the surrounding area.
One of the most notable Empaths in history was Rowena Ravenclaw herself, who was so connected to the magic of the world around her that she was able to locate the perfect spot for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry without even realizing it, as the school stands directly above a leyline.
-
Harry hummed a bit, setting the book to the side and running a hand through his hair. He stood up after a moment, walking over to Blaise’s bed and dropping down onto it, making the other boy jolt in surprise and set his book down, raising a brow at his friend.
“Harry?”
“Want to take a break from studying so you can help me try something?” He asked, his own brow raised.
“...What do you want to try?”
“The book your mum sent,” Harry sat up, turning his body to face Blaise’s better. “It explains why I can feel magic, and I want to see if I can teach myself to recognize your magic. Eventually, I wanna be able to recognize all of you by magic alone, just in case something happens.”
Blaise paused for a moment, before he popped a bookmark in to save his place and set his book to the side, pulling his legs up onto his bed.
“Alright. I’m in. What do I need to do?” He asked. Harry grinned, pulling his legs up as well and folding them underneath him before he grabbed his friend’s hands.
“Just… Trust me, yeah?”
“Always.”
He chuckled a bit at that, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Almost instantly, he could feel his magic thrumming in his veins, a steady, beating sensation, following alongside his pulse. Then, gently, ever so gently, he allowed the magic to flow out of him, thin tendrils of it wrapping around Blaise’s hands and wrists at first, before it began to completely envelop his body. He felt his friend’s hands grip his tighter, a soft gasp escaping him, but he just squeezed back.
He just needed a few more minutes. Just another beat.
The sensation of Blaise’s magic was gentler than the unicorns, the cool, refreshing feeling washing over him like a wave.
No, not a wave. A downpour. Blaise’s magic was like the rain.
It filled his nose with the scent of wet concrete, like the first rain after a drought, when everything had been dry and empty for far too long. A summer storm that flooded the streets yet no one complained about it because of the joy it brought to the earth itself.
Blaise was safe. He was strong, and sure, and he brought peace.
Harry sucked in a breath, pulling his hands away, his eyes shooting open as he felt something click into place in his mind.
Now that they weren’t touching, the sensation wasn’t nearly as strong, but he could still feel it. He could still feel the refreshing sensation of rain on his skin and the scent that filled his mind with utter peace.
“Harry..?” Blaise whispered.
“It worked. I-i can feel you.”
“It did?”
“Yeah… What, what did it feel like on your end?”
The other boy paused, obviously trying to find the right words.
“...It wasn’t painful, or even uncomfortable, it was just… Odd. It felt almost like I was being tightly wrapped in something, but I don’t know what.” He explained softly.
“Did you feel my magic at all?” Harry asked curiously, sitting up a bit.
“No, all I felt was just… Safety? If that makes sense? Like, all of a sudden, my magic knew that you were safe. That it could trust you.”
Harry grinned at that, his eyes sparkling as he launched himself forward and hugged Blaise, his arms flinging around his neck as they nearly toppled off the bed. Thankfully, the other boy caught them both with one arm against the bedpost, a sharp laugh escaping him as he wrapped his free arm around Harry’s waist.
“Can you two please keep it down?” Theo groaned, looking over at them from his desk. “Harry, I’m sure whatever magic you just did is incredibly impressive, but I can’t tell half of these seeds apart to save my life, and I really need to focus.”
“Sorry, Theo!” Harry and Blaise called in unison, laughing more when their friend rolled his eyes, his own small smile pulling at his lips as he turned back to the parchment on his desk.
—
Harry’s migraines were getting worse.
He tried to hide the near constant pain he was in from his friends, but the way he would stumble when he stood up too quickly, and the fact that he was struggling to eat unless he was safely tucked away in the Slytherin dorms, far away from Quirrell, clued them in almost immediately.
Even Daphne, who had known him for the least amount of time, knew there was something wrong.
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to sit through this exam, Harry?” Neville asked him as they sat outside the testing room for the umpteenth time, his hand rubbing small circles into his friend’s back as he sat with his head tucked between his legs, doing everything he could to will his head to stop splitting open like the dragon egg on Hagrid’s dining room table.
“I have to.” He muttered angrily. “The faster I get it done, the faster I can go see Madam Pomfrey.”
“Harry, you really should go now.” Draco gently chided him. “You can’t even lift your head up without feeling like you’re going to hurl.”
“I’ll survive. I’ve been doing this all year.”
“It’s never been this bad, though.”
“Draco, please.” Harry murmured, looking up at him. “I really, really can’t worry about that right now. I just need to get this stupid exam over with before I stop being able to see again.”
That made his friends stop, because all of them remembered how bad his migraine had been after their Charms final, and the way he had nearly fainted while walking down the stairs, almost tumbling down them to what would surely be his untimely demise.
“...Fine. But the minute we’re done, we’re taking you to Pomfrey.” Draco said firmly, earning a weak smile from Harry. That was as good as he was going to get.
The door to the classroom opened, and he slowly rose up to his feet, following his friends into the room and sitting in his assigned seat, waiting for Quirrell to show up and pass out their tests.
The minute the purple clad man entered the room, however, Harry felt like he was going to hurl, just like Draco said.
He could barely hear the instructions their professor was saying as he passed out the sheets of parchment, his vision swimming as he looked down at the words in front of him, the ink nothing more than loopy scribbles that he couldn’t even begin to decipher until Quirrell walked away from him again.
Harry let out a soft groan, biting the inside of his cheek when his ears finally heard a single word from the man.
“B-b-begin!”
And the sound of quills scratching against parchment began to fill the air, making his ears hurt like hell.
He bit down harder, not caring if he broke skin as he glared down at his parchment, starting to answer the questions to the best of his ability despite his difficulty seeing the things.
He would do the best that he could, then he would go to Pomfrey’s and take a nap before his next exam.
It would be completely, totally fine.
—
“Do you think it’s an omen?” Theo asked softly, looking at Harry, who was sprawled out in the grass next to him. “That something really bad is about to happen?”
The ‘it’ that his friend was referring to was Harry’s splitting migraine that still hadn’t gone away, even after two days and an almost unhealthy amount of pain potions.
“At this point, I think it might be God trying to kill me.” He groaned softly, covering his face with his arms as he felt Blaise’s now familiar magic wash over him, the other boy settling down on his other side.
“Not God, Quirrell.” He hummed, reaching down and starting to play with Harry’s hair.
“Right, Quirrell.”
“It’s probably an omen, Harry.” Theo sighed. “Quirrell’s going to do something, and your scar is warning you about it.”
“Well could it at least give me a more specific thing to warn me about? What, is he going to kill me? Is he going to kill one of you? Is he going to-” Harry froze, sitting up suddenly. “The Stone.”
He could feel the shock settle over the other two boys, both of them turning to look at him with wide eyes.
“The Stone.” Blaise agreed, and before anything else could be said between them, they were all scrambling up to their feet and racing back towards the castle. They needed to get to Dumbledore, and fast, to tell him that the Stone was in danger.
As they ran through the halls, Harry could feel panic rising in his chest. What would happen if Quirrell got the stone? What would he do with it? Would he use it to make anything into gold, make himself the richest man alive? Or would he find a way to bring back his master, You-Know-Who?
He really, really didn’t want to find out.
“Do not run in the halls!” A familiar, Scottish voice called out, causing the three boys to skid to a halt, Professor McGonagall’s stern face staring back at them. Harry’s eyes almost bulged out of his head when he saw her, and he rushed over.
“We want to see Professor Dumbledore,” Theo declared, his voice firm.
“See Professor Dumbledore?” Professor McGonagall repeated, as though three students wanting to speak to the headmaster was the most suspicious and strange thing in the world. “Why?”
Harry bit his lip, trying to find a suitable lie, but Blaise answered for him.
“It’s sort of a secret,” he said, causing Professor McGonagall’s nostrils to flare.
“Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago,” she said coldly. “He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once.”
“He's gone?” Harry asked frantically. “Now?”
“Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Mr. Hartford, and he has many demands on his time–”
“But this is important.”
“Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Mr. Hartford?”
“Look,” said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, “Professor– it’s about the Sorcerer’s Stone–”
Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn’t that.
“How do you know -?” she spluttered.
“Professor, I think – I know – that Quir – that someone’s going to try and steal the Stone. I’ve got to talk to Professor Dumbledore.”
She eyes him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.
“Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow,” she said finally. “I don’t know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it’s too well protected.”
“But Professor –”
“Mr. Hartford, I know what I’m talking about,” she said shortly. “I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine.”
And with that, she walked away, leaving the three students standing there, mouths agape in shock.
She had just completely dismissed their concerns.
“...Now what do we do?” Harry asked quietly, his hands shaking.
“I don’t know.” Blaise answered, shaking his head.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of bushy, brown hair disappearing around a corner. Hermione, most likely.
Seemed like Draco wasn’t the only one who had an eavesdropping problem.
“...There’s nothing we can do.” Theo hissed bitterly. “We just have to hope that Quirrell doesn’t try anything tonight. C’mon. Let’s go back to the common room.”
Blaise and Harry nodded a bit, following behind their friend as he led them deeper into the castle.
They didn’t know what else to do, after all.
—
Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest as he shot up in bed, his breaths coming out in small, ragged gasps as he tried to calm himself down from his nightmare.
It had been so… Vivid.
There was no other way to describe it.
He closed his eyes tightly, forcing himself to take a slow, deep breath and calm his racing heart, recalling the events of the dream so he could pick it apart, and reassure himself that it was just that; a dream.
Draco had gotten out of bed, and gone down to the common room because he couldn’t fall back asleep, but he didn’t want to disturb his friends.
He had been sitting in front of the fireplace, and before he could even react, he’d been struck in the back of the head by something big and heavy, knocking him right out.
Then, his limp body was dragged up to the third floor corridor, where the man who had knocked him out had already put Fluffy, the Cerberus, to sleep with a magic harp.
Then, they disappeared down a trapdoor, and the last that he had seen of one of his best friends was the bloody back of his head as he was dragged into the darkness.
Harry let out a soft whine, rubbing his face as he stood up, grabbing his glasses and shoving them onto his face as he climbed out of bed. He knew it was just a dream, but he needed to check.
He needed to know that Draco was asleep, in bed, and not bleeding from the back of his head.
He slowly trudged over to his friend’s bed, pulling the curtains to the side and fully expecting to see his sleeping form.
But he didn’t.
Draco wasn’t in bed, and when Harry placed his hand where the sheets were rumpled, his blood went just as cold as the sheets were.
He wasn’t in bed, and hadn’t been for a while.
Which, if Harry’s dream was to be believed, meant that the man, likely Quirrell, had just kidnapped one of his best friends.
And the rage that bubbled up in his core was like nothing he had ever felt before in his life.