Chapter 5
He knew Malfoy was behind him and approaching. He could see him in the reflections from the silverware. The only question in 80’s mind was whether he would attempt to insult him or Hermione, or both. It was likely both. 80 was honestly surprised he’d waited until nearly Christmas.
“I see you haven’t learned not to associate with mudbloods yet, Potter.” The boy spat.
80 turned around to look at him and his two bookends, Crabbe and Goyle.
“Good evening, mister Crabbe.” He said to Crabbe. “Good evening mister Goyle.” He said to Goyle. Then he looked at Malfoy. “Your statement is meant to insult my friend, and me by association, but you don’t have any reason to insult me or my friend, so what is this really about, Malfoy? Are you that starved for attention? Or is it simple jealousy that I’m sitting with the smartest and prettiest girl in the school while you sit with Crabbe and Goyle?” He asked calmly. “No offense to you, chaps. I’m sure you have your reasons for being glued to mister Malfoy here, though I’m positive you could do better.”
Crabbe looked at Goyle and Goyle loooked at Crabbe. “Tot’ly could.” Crabbe grunted.
Draco’s jaw clanched as he ground his teeth for a moment, then turned and stalked off.
80 nodded to Crabbe and Goyle. “Nice to meet you, gents. Have a lovely evening.”
Goyle nodded back, and Crabbe grinned at him before they both followed Malfoy.
Hermione stared at him with her mouth open when he turned back around.
80 just resumed eating dinner.
“What was that about?” She asked him a moment later, when she had turned back to her dinner.
“Draco is just a deliberately misinformed child.” He told her so that no-one else could hear, “His parents have fed him their idiotic nonsense about blood status and his inherent superiority from the time he could open his eyes. Right now it’s not his fault that he spouts it - it’s the exact same thing as you trying to get praise from teachers, just twisted. Right now that arrogant stupidity is what he thinks he needs to do to win praise from his parents.”
Hermione had started to frown as he compared her to Malfoy, but relaxed as he explained.
“When he becomes an adult and is responsible for his own behaviour, then he’ll be on the hook. The other two are just doing what their parents told them to do as well. We’ll see what they become.”
“I meant...” Her voice faded, and he turned to look at her. Her cheeks were pink. She took a deep breath. “Do you really think I’m pretty?” She whispered.
“I do, though I don’t need to.” He replied. “Anyone with eyes can see you’re beautiful. It’s a fact. I reckon you’ll be swamped with boys trying to get you to notice them in the next few years.”
“Will you be one of them?” She breathed, her pupils enlarged.
“I have been instructed that I will experience hormonal changes that will cause my rational thought to skew off center. I will experience desires and urges toward intimacy with girls. I know this, I expect it, but I don’t feel it yet. If you do, then congratulations, you are developing faster than I am. I can’t say right now whether I will or won’t, I simply don’t know yet. However, I was also told that being friends is the best way to start. The real question is whether your own urges will drive you to other boys or whether you’ll wait for me to catch up.”
She sidled subtly closer to him. “I think you’re worth waiting for.” She said as her cheeks flushed progressively redder.
“That is good to know.” He said softly. Especially good to know, since she was the supplementary contract. There was time for that later though, he had a primary contract to complete first.
He was about to change the subject when Professor Flitwick approached them.
“Mister Potter, the Headmaster would like to see you in his office after dinner.” The professor said.
80 nodded to the half-goblin. “Acknowledged.” He said.
He turned to look at Hermione, but she studiously examined the plate in front of her while her blush dissipated.
80 consumed his own fuel to an acceptable level, and rose from his seat when Dumbledore did.
“See you tomorrow.” He said to Hermione.
“See you tomorrow.” She smiled back at him.
He didn’t bother hurrying.
Dumbledore was seated behind his massive desk at the focal point of the massive office when he arrived.
“Harry my boy, come in, come in.” Dumbledore smiled genially.
“Have a seat.” Dumbledore gestured. 80 stood instead, relaxed and ready, behind the chairs that were for visitors.
“Please, sit, make yourself comfortable.” Dumbledore gestured to the chairs again. 80 didn’t move a muscle, just looked back at the old wizard while he expected 80 to obey.
After a moment he seemed to get the hint that 80 was not about to sit. “Professor Flitwick tells me you’re doing well in your classes.” He said.
80 remained passive as a stone.
After another long moment, Dumbledore began to frown. “Is something wrong, Harry?” He asked.
“No.” He replied.
Dumbledore looked at him overtop of his half-moon glasses. “I just thought it might be nice to get to know you, see how you’re enjoying your time here at Hogwarts.”
80 remained expressionless.
“Are you enjoying your classes?” Dumbledore asked, but 80 ignored him.
After another moment of looking at each other, 80 felt Dumbledore’s attempt to Legilimens through his Occlumentic discipline. What Dumbledore didn’t know of course was that someone far more powerful and disciplined than Dumbledore had trained 80 to the point where the instructor could not intrude. One more thing to thank One for.
Dumbledore skittered around the edges of his mind, unable to find an opening, until he finally withdrew.
The silence stretched on as Dumbledore tried to find some way to make him converse, and the whole while 80 just waited patiently.
“Well,” Dumbledore said finally, “If you ever do have troubles, my office door is always open.”
80 turned and left at that point. Barely ten minutes had passed, so he counted that a win. He’d allocated forty-five minutes for their first confrontation, so he pulled his powerbook 170 out of his briefcase and reviewed the mission data for that evening. When it was time, he changed into his work suit, and removed himself from the timestream to travel to the work site.
In the morning, he greeted Hermione and sat with her at the Gryffindor table for breakfast.
“I don’t think so.” She told him quietly.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
“The -” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “The pattern, I mean. I don’t think whoever is running around murdering people is after muggleborns or muggles.”
“Well that’s good news.” He replied, “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“I did some research on who has been killed. So far the only thing they had in common - besides being purebloods who may or may not have supported You-Know-Who - is the Wizengamot. That points to whoever it is being a muggleborn. I won’t say that means my family is safe, but it’s reason enough not to panic yet. As of this morning there are only three of-age Wizengamot members left.”
“Really?” 80 asked. “How many were there to begin with?”
“Well, there are fifty seats for fifty votes, but that number hasn’t changed since it was founded even though the families meant to be in most of those seats have died out along the way. At the beginning of the year there were twenty I think? Just over?”
“Wow, nearly twenty people killed in four months? There might not be a government by the time you come back to school after Christmas.” He whispered.
She folded the paper and put it in her bag. “That reminds me, what are you doing for the holidays?”
80 pointed his wand at the basket of scones, then at the bowl of oranges, then at the carafe of water. Satisfied there were no ‘additives’, he took a scone and an orange, and poured himself some water. “I’ll be here.” He replied. “I don’t have any family.”
“Oh good!” She said happily, “I was afraid I’d be alone. My parents had to fly to Bern for a medical conference over the hols, so I’ll... be... did you just cast spells at your food?”
80 looked around and then nodded to her slightly. “Ask me later.”
“But! But! You -”
He gave her a pointed look, and she clamped her lips shut.
“Write down the questions if you have to, we can talk about it when we’re not sitting in one room with the rest of the school.” He whispered to her.
She looked him dead in the eyes, curiosity gnawing at her insides like starvation. Her brows tightened and her jaw set, and he had to admit an urge to smile. “Fine.” She whispered back, but inside that one word was ‘I don’t have any choice right now, but I’m going to drag every single thing out of you the minute we’re alone.’
Once they had finished breakfast - in silence - she pulled him toward the library to do just that.
The library wasn’t private enough however, so he guided her to one of the unused classrooms deep in the east wing. Once inside the room, he locked the door and sealed it before he checked for evesdropping charms. There weren’t any, but there was a portrait, so he conjured a heavy black cloth over it and silenced it.
“Are you casting silently?!” Hermione demanded, “What are you even casting?!”
He turned to look at her, and shook his head. “Neither of those is the question you want to ask.” He said.
“You think I don’t know what question I mean to ask?” She frowned at him.
“No, I think you were brought up to be polite, and those are preliminary questions. What you really want to ask is will I teach you how.”
Her eyes dropped their sparking anger, and she began to blush. “Oh. Well, yes then. Will you?”
He nodded. “How do you get better at casting a spell?”
“Practice, like anything else.” She replied.
“Correct. Essentially you’re training your magic like you would your nervous system, to complete a complex task as a reflex. With me so far?”
She nodded, a trifle indignantly.
“When you use your wand, with wand motions and an incantation, are you tapping into something that already exists? Are the motion and the incantation like lines of code that instruct the computer what to do?”
“Yes?” She looked uncertain.
“Then how is it possible to do it without?”
She pouted slightly.
“The motion and incantation are mnemonic devices. By teaching us to associate this movement with this incantation, it helps to differentiate the spells in our minds.”
He could see the understanding click in her eyes.
“But.” He held up his finger, “With the proper visualization and focus, it is entirely unnecessary. You, brilliant as you are, waste your time learning what they teach here. It’s meant to elevate dimwits into mediocrity. You are already a million times better than that. The way you absorb and compartmentalize information is precisely what will make you one of the most powerful witches on the planet - if you ignore the kindergarten crayon spell-learning they offer here.”
He could see the spark light up in her eyes as he spoke - she already knew she was being held back.
“It will take practice to train your magic, no-one can get around that, but you don’t have to take baby steps. Take your wand out and cast a wand lighting charm by thinking it. Think the incantation as though you were saying it if you have to, but soon enough your will, your intent will be all you need.”
She jerked her wand out of her pocket, fairly quivering with restrained energy, and held it up.
Nothing happened.
She frowned at it, and held it up again, but it remained lightless.
“Too much going on.” He said. “Relax. Focus. One thought.”
She exhaled loudly through her nose, but closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
The tip of her wand lit up.
She opened her eyes, and smiled so happily that he burned the moment into his memory.
She stared at her wand for a moment, then frowned in concentration and the light stopped emitting instantly. She balled her fists and shook them as she squealed in delight, then slammed into his front and wrapped her arms around him.
“Thank you so much!” She said, and let him go.
Strangely, he was unperturbed by contact with her. He would have to think about that later. “You’re welcome, but that’s just a first step.”
Hermione, rather than be disappointed, seemed even more excited by the prospect of more to learn. “How many more steps?” She asked breathily.
80 pulled his wand out and handed it to her by the tip.
“Why are you giving...” She stopped talking and her jaw went slack as he conjured dozens of balls of light throughout the room without a word or a gesture.
Hermione looked around the room in wonder. “This is all you, isn’t it? You’re making all this at once.”
“Yes.” He replied.
Her eyes eventually fell back on him, and became absolutely ravenous.
“Teach me.” She said.