Chapter 4: A Unique Mind

"Right, I have marked your papers, and I am rather disappointed by the performance," McGonagall said with pursed lips to the class. "Only two students managed to get an Outstanding, and nearly half of you failed. Miss Rosier and Mister Potter, well done."

Hermione looked devastated at the news. Harry may have felt more sympathetic had the girl not tried to assert herself in every class. With a swish of her wand, the papers were sent back to the student, to which Harry looked through his answers. He had gotten all the multiple choice questions correct, though lost a few points on the explanation on the composition of the transfiguration alphabet, which was more than fair.

Looking over at Amelie's paper, he saw that she had somehow gotten the inverse, scoring perfectly on the long questions but circling the wrong answer in a question on a historic claim of breaking Gamp's Law on elemental transfiguration, fair enough given it was more trivia than anything else.

"Yes Miss Granger?" McGonagall queried crisply as she stalked over to the girl, who had her hand up.

"Professor? How come you deducted marks for my answer when it's not wrong?" Granger questioned, indignation clearly colouring her voice. McGonagall ignored this, though her eyes did get colder.

"Miss Granger, if you copied the entire textbook for every answer you would technically have provided the valid answer somewhere. To demonstrate true mastery requires you to synthesise your answers succinctly, precisely and appropriately," the professor rebuked. As Granger opened her mouth, McGonagall held up her hand. "I'm not going to change my mind on this, while your other professors may tolerate it, I won't. It is a bad habit, one you need to change as soon as possible. Is that understood?"

Granger nodded stiffly, and the professor circled around the class, clarifying some points with various students before returning to the front. "Right, today we're doing your practical assessments. You'll all be transfiguring your matchsticks into needles today. If you want anything past an Acceptable this year, you should have already made substantial progress, given we will be moving onto animate-to-inanimate transfigurations next term. If you think this is hard, wait until you get to inanimate-to-animate transfigurations next year or animate-to-animate transfigurations the year after. Now, begin."

Harry took out matchstick, beginning to transfigure it back and forth with increasing speed. Amelie shrugged, doing the same, and the two became engrossed with trying to outpace the other.

"Ahem!" a loud cough caused the two to look up, seeing an amused McGonagall staring down at them. Both blushed slightly at being caught out like that. "Rapid transfiguration…rather impressive, especially for a first year. I have a challenge, if you two are interested?"

She chuckled slightly at their eager looks, pulling out several rocks from her pockets. "Try and change the colour of these stones. Any colour that's not on the spectrum from white to black. If you succeed, I'll give you an Outstanding for this year…these upcoming two years, in fact."

Harry and Amelie's eyebrows raised up, for that was a rather generous offer. Several others perked up, which caused McGonagall's grin to widen. The offer is open to all of you: if you manage this independently, and I must stress, if I catch a whiff of you asking older students to help you, there will be severe consequences, I will exempt you from all transfiguration tests and exams for this and next year."

"Can we work together?" Harry queried. McGonagall considered for a moment, before nodding.

"I suppose it wouldn't make much of a difference, yes. The offer, however, is only open to the first five to complete this. I'll also add that using a colour changing charm is not acceptable, it has to be a transfiguration. I'll be impressed, but it wouldn't be a sufficient demonstration."

Harry and Amelie gave each other determined nods as the professor returned to the front.

--Break--

"So what are we practising today?" Harry queried. Amelie rubbed her chin, thinking for a moment.

"Is there anything you want to do in particular?" Amelie queried. "You've been improving quickly, honestly there isn't much more I can effectively teach you beyond duelling to train up your reflexes and muscle memory."

"So I've learnt everything I can from you?" Harry teased. Amelie rolled her eyes, even as Harry frowned inwardly at the spike of worry and hurt from within.

"The wise master doesn't teach their apprentice everything they know."

"The wise apprentice doesn't seek knowledge only from one master," Harry countered, before smirking. "Perhaps I'll take you as my apprentice afterwards."

"In your dreams, Potter," she snarked, even as he felt the relief within her at the implicit assertion that he didn't intend to desert her.

"You are in my dreams, darling," he responded, lips curling at the blush that crept up on her neck.

"Pervert," she muttered, though there was little heat in her voice. "We're wasting time, let's do some target practice."

Harry was equal parts disappointed and relieved by her diversion on the topic. As the only companion of each other, it was natural for the two to gravitate to a near dependency on the other. This made it no less frightening or thrilling. Assuming a casting posture, he began casting blasting hexes at the plates Amelie threw. Fragments would occasionally chip against his skin, though Harry cared little, the adrenaline from his casting coursing through his veins.

When she had ran out of plates, roughly thirty in all, Harry breathed deeply, feeling his body grow stiff as the adrenaline slowed and lactic acid began to collect on its oxygen debt. Taking deep breaths, he began doing light stretches while Amelie called several elves to clean up the mess. One appeared with a light pop by his side, offering him a glass of water.

"Thanks," he smiled at the creature, accepting the drink and greedily gulping down the chilled liquid. Returning the glass, he felt himself refreshed enough, while the room had been cleared by the other elves. "Duel?"

"If you're up for another beating," she teased, tossing her hair back with dramatic flair. Harry rolled his eyes at the motion. Harry flung a stinging hex at her, drawing a yelp as she sidestepped it, narrowing her eyes at him. "Now you're asking for it, time for me to dole out a good spanking."

"I do the spanking in any relationship, babe," Harry blew a kiss, flinging several spells. Amelie laughed melodiously as she pranced past the spell, slashing her wand and sending several multi-coloured spells back in retaliation.

Swishing his wand upwards, a shield formed around his body, absorbing the spells as they splashed against the surface. Recognising her next incantation as one of a shield breaker, he dispelled the barrier.

Harry ducked underneath another spell, idly admiring how she changed from a shield breaker to a punching jinx mid-cast, and lunged forward as he flicked his wand, sending a trio of red piercing hexes at her. Amelie twirled out of the way effortlessly, slashing her wand and sending an arc of purple magic hurtling towards him.

Harry rolled to the side as he felt her intent, retaliating by flinging a banisher at her. Narrowing her eyes, Amelie raised a translucent yellow shield, causing the spell to splash against its surface and fizzle out.

"Not bad," she grinned, and Harry wondered if she was being sarcastic. "I might actually break a sweat if you keep this up."

He rolled his eyes, but nevertheless felt some indignation swell up. Concentrating his magic, he yelled out, "Reducto!"

To his surprise, rather than a normal fizzle of magic, a geyser of red shot out, unstable and crackling through the air as it screeched towards Amelie. With a yelp, she raised a shield, which the spell thundered against, pushing harder and harder as her barrier began to buckle. With a yelp, her shield broke, and Amelie was hurtled towards the wall.

"NO!" Harry yelled, thrusting his hand out. Incredulously, Amelie rocked to a stop, hovering in the air as she stared at him with wide eyes. He felt her shock and amazement, along with a healthy dose of fear. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was her face turning contemplative.

--Break--

Blinking blearily, Harry frowned as he saw Amelie sat on the bed, reading a book as she hummed, a strand of hair between her lips. He found himself staring at the sight for several moments, until she turned and found him awake.

"Harry! You're awake! How are you feeling?" she asked hurriedly, immediately dropping the book.

"My entire body is stiff, but otherwise I'm fine," Harry assured, sitting up and wincing as his joints cracked. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she chuckled, "You caught me very off guard. Wandless magic, Harry? What other surprises do you have?"

Despite the playful tone, he heard suspicion within Amelie's head, and winced inwardly, knowing it was something that had to be addressed. Still, he needed time to figure out how best to navigate the situation. "How long was I out?"

"Just the night, it's roughly noon now," Amelie answered softly, even as he felt her suspicion and hurt at his non-answer.

"I'll be honest, I have no idea how I did that," Harry shrugged lightly. Disbelief, followed by disappointment, even if she maintained a visage of pensiveness. He longed to allay the feelings, yet even revealing his knowledge of such would shatter any trust between them. "That spell…have you seen anything like it?"

"No," Amelie frowned, nibbling on her lower lip. Harry forced himself not to focus on how attractive that looked, instead waiting patiently for an answer. "Outside of transfigurations…in particular conjurations, I really don't know spells that arc like that. I'm not saying there aren't, my experience is not exactly comprehensive, but off the top of my head, I haven't seen anything like that."

"I guess it's just another thing to look into," Harry mused, causing her to let out a groan. "What?"

"You already constantly drag me to the library," she bemoaned, swatting at his chest playfully. "If I were vain, I might be worried you prefer the books over me!"

"You? Vain? Perish the thought!" he chuckled dryly. She glared nastily at him, to which he smiled lazily.

"Hmph," she turned away, squeaking as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Harry chuckled as he wrapped her tightly in an embrace, inhaling the peachy scent of her hair. She relaxed into his touch, her head on his chest as the two sat there comfortably for several minutes in companionable silence.

"Want to practice some more duelling?" she queried lightly. Harry looked at her incredulously, before laughing. "What?"

"It's just such an…us thing," Harry shook his head in mirth. "Can you imagine any other firsties, or students for the matter, like us?"

Amelie rolled her eyes, but grinned nonetheless. "True, we're quite the pair, aren't we? Now get off your bum! We were supposed to practice transfiguration this morning, but someone decided to sleep in!"

"See if I try and save that pretty face of yours next time, hmph," Harry huffed, causing her to laugh again.

"You love me too much to do that, darling," she teased, tugging his hand and leading him over to one of the desks. Blowing off the dust, she retrieved several stones and placed them on the table. "Any insights come to you from Morpheus? Getting to skip the exam would be a huge boon."

"You do realise this is a fourth year charm, right?" Harry chuckled dryly. "I sincerely doubt she means for any of us to succeed."

"But is there anything fundamentally stopping us?" she challenged, echoing his words. He frowned, contemplating. "Come on, try, for me?"

"Fine," Harry sighed, staring down at the stones, whose dull grey surface called to him mockingly. Envisioning the surface of the stone as blue, he tapped the wand, pushing his magic out only to feel resistance. Pushing more and more, he closed his eyes in concentration, ignoring his hand's trembling at channelling so much magic. Suddenly, there was a loud bang, throwing him backwards as he landed on his back.

"Oww…" he heard a groan not his own. Harry winced, feeling pain that was not his own, but pushed through and forced himself up. Seeing the normally immaculate Amelie coughing, soot all over her face. "Potter you bastard. When did you become Finnegan?"

"Sorry," he chuckled sheepishly, helping her up. "I was trying to concentrate my transfiguration to the surface and prevent it from spreading inward. It seems to have sent a cascade through the rock, destabilising it."

"Wouldn't it make more sense for you to transfigure the whole rock?" Amelie frowned.

"It could work," Harry admitted. "For example, if you transfigured it into a different type of rock then."

"Isn't that cheating though?" Amelie frowned. Harry shrugged.

"Rocks are just a composition of minerals. If you transfigure parts of the minerals, you are changing the properties of the rock, but not the fact that it is a rock," he shrugged. "Technically, you would have succeeded in the task."

"Then why haven't you done that?" Amelie questioned, visibly annoyed that he hadn't shared the insight prior.

"I thought it a rather…inadequate solution," Harry shrugged. "By changing the stone's composition, you're changing many of its properties, from its density to its strength. I suppose this comes down to Theseus' paradox."

At her unsure look, he explained, "A muggle philosopher proffered this: imagine you had a boat. Over the years, due to wear and tear, various parts of the ship are replaced, until after decades, not a single piece of the original ship remains. What if its crew have died, retired or left, replaced by new members? What if it has been rechristened to a different name? Is it still the same ship?"

"I…suppose that's fair," Amelie shrugged. "But I just want to avoid the exams, not much more. If there's a simple solution…"

"I understand," Harry chuckled. "You should practice with a few different rocks, they'll have slightly different compositions, and you can learn to amplify those differences."

"I'll take your word for it," Amelie nodded determinedly, pulling out several stones from her pocket and feeling them in her hand. Harry smiled as he returned to considering his own problem.

--Break--

"Right everybody, most of you have successfully cast the levitation charm," professor Flitwick sweaked. "For those of you that haven't, make sure to read up over Christmas, we'll have a week of revision in the first week back, but no more. Enjoy the holidays!"

Harry left the class hand in hand with Amelie, heading to the great hall. Several trees had been set up, tinsels floating around as the smell of burning fir trees, creating a heavenly, woody scent that had most of the castle in high spirits. The two sidestepped some mistletoe, which caused Harry equal parts disappointment and relief, with Amelie seeming to feel the same, if the unsure looks they shot each other were any indication.

"All packed?" Harry asked softly as the two sat at the Great Hall, carving up a piece of turkey and placing it on her plate before pouring some gravy. Amelie, who had lifted a plate of potatoes and served him a generous helping before taking some for herself, nodded.

"Yep, just a few knick knacks though. Clothes and whatnot…there's little point in taking it back only to bring it again," Amelie shrugged. There were several moments of silence as the two took bites of their food. The luxurious gravy flowed greedily down Harry's throat, drawing an involuntary smile.

"Must suck not being able to do magic, though," Harry mused. She looked at him like he was a particularly dim rock. "What?"

"You do realise that's a complete joke, right?" she snorted lightly. "Behind the wards and in most magical areas…well there's no way to tell one magical signature from another. Detectors are pretty much all in muggle areas."

"Oh…" Amelie giggled, drawing strange looks from others nearby.

"It's amazing how you can know so much about some things and so little about other things," she chuckled. He joined her, seeing the humour in the situation. "I'm surprised you haven't handed in your stone to McGonagall."

"I plan to work on it over Yule, if I still don't get it, I'll hand it in," he assured. She nodded, clearly unconvinced, but letting the issue drop. "You know I enjoy a challenge."

"Far too well," Amelie chuckled. Seeing the older students begin to depart, she sighed. "Looks like it's time for me to go."

"I'll walk you," He offered immediately. She looked to decline the offer, then thought better of it, offering him a shy smile as their interlocked hands, leaning their heads against each other.

"Thanks." The two followed the crowd of students walking towards the carriages at a leisurely pace, until at last they arrived at a carriage. The two stood by one of the last carriages, neither able to find the words.

"I'll miss you," Amelie smiled weakly, finally punctuating the awkward silence.

"I'll miss you more," he tried to joke, though the usual competitive banter did not land the same way it usually did. She laughed anyway, even if it sounded forced. "Are you sure you don't want any let-"

"Please, Harry. I can't…I can't say more, but just…for me?" she pleaded. He met her gaze challengingly for several moments before slumping, nodded defeated.

"Fine, but I don't have to like it," he sighed rather petulantly. She winced slightly, which alongside the guilt festering caused him to feel a pang of regret at the situation. "I'm sorry…I'm rather new to…"

"Yeah…I am too," she agreed, perhaps a tad too quickly, but Harry would not push the issue. Not now. "Harry…I-"

Something changed within him. Seeing her under the gentle moonlight, a faint blush in her cheeks as her hair framed her head perfectly, he lifted his hand under her chin, slowly stepping forward. Amelie's eyes widened, hesitation in her posture, though Harry braved on, pressing closer.

Finally, as he was about to meet her, she surged forward, throwing both hands on his face and pulling him in. As their lips met, Harry felt a surge of triumph and elation. He could feel the euphoria from her, which only served to amplify his own as he held her tightly, trying to cling on and memorise every sensation.

When they finally moved apart, foreheads pressed against each other, both had astonished wide eyes and flushed cheeks, as well as silly grins plastered on their faces. "That was…"

"Yeah…"

Both chuckled at their loss of words.

"I…I should go."

"I know…I guess this is goodbye," he sighed. She frowned, before shaking her head.

"Don't think of it as a goodbye…just think of it as a wait until our next hello," she mused. Despite the sappiness, Harry couldn't help but smile at the sentiment, helping her up the steps of the carriage.

"Have a safe journey, Amelie," he wished.

"Thank you," she whispered, blowing him a kiss as the compartment door shut and the carriage streaked off into the night sky. Harry stood there, watching until the carriage had disappeared, not even a silhouette through the slight wall of mist. With a wistful sigh, he traced a finger on his lips, unable to help a grin as he slowly made his way back to the castle.

--Break--

Taking a breath, he began to contemplate: what was he trying to do? Change the colour of the stone. How was he trying to achieve that? Pump magic through a transfiguration to the surface to change its colours. How come he could change the match into a needle, altering its colour? Because he was also changing other properties. So how could he change only the colour?

Harry stared at the small pile of stones on the desk, who seemed to taunt him with their varying shades of grey. Picking up the beginner's book on runes, he began to leaf through the pages, looking for any sort of inspiration. He read, feeling the frustration slowly ebb away as he was drawn into the tenants of the subject.

Maximilian's method refers to a principle of isolating different factors. In practice, given this is not fully possible, experiments focus on altering the other factors as little as possible.

Frowning as he stumbled over this line, he quickly leafed through the rest of the book, not finding a single other reference. Feeling a sense of determination swell up, he made his way towards the office of professor Babbling.

As he arrived, the witch in question opened her office door, a cup of mead in her hand as she was beginning to exit. "Oh, mister Potter? Are you lost?"

"I was hoping to ask you a question on runes, if you are free." The profesor blinked, before giving a light shrug.

"Sure, not much to do over the holidays besides marking, it'd be a good change of pace."

"I was wondering if you could explain a bit about Maximillian's Method. I was reading one of the textbooks, but found it only mentioned briefly."

"That's because not even NEWT students are expected to know it, mister Potter," the professor frowned. "Experimentation is well into mastery territory, I'm surprised you are aware of it at all. But go on, ask and I'll answer as best as I can."

"How does it actually work in practice? When you change the length of the runic carve, you necessarily change its shape, either in the amount of space it takes, the number of contours or the like. How can you actually…well only change one thing?"

"That's exactly the point. It's realistically possible, and why the field of runes is so dynamic. We're always trying to improve and optimise, to reduce the margins of these small errors and make efficiency gains," Babbling chuckled, taking a sip of her drink. "What we have to do is identify the factors that go into determining each characteristic. Usually, we do this through a causal link map, where we explore the constituents to each factor, and map them onto each other. By examining the links, we can minimise the overall change in exogenous variables to focus on the impact of the endogenous. It's by no means a perfect science, but the best we have. For insta…"

But Harry had lost focus on the professor's words already, his mind whirring as he felt a flash of epiphany. He couldn't possibly change the colour without understanding what exactly caused it.

"Thank you, professor, this has been extremely helpful!" Harry exclaimed, hurrying off to the library and leaving behind the amused professor.

--Break--

Tapping the stone, he pumped a minute amount of magic, slowly feeding into the partial transfiguration as he increased the energy levels of the stone. Slowly, it turned from its shade of grey into purple, then blue, then green, then yellow. With a triumphant smile, he picked up the stone, running his hand over it to feel the texture. It was still the same, smooth feeling, and the weight was almost identical.

Waiting several minutes to see if it was stable, he felt his excitement creep up quicker and quicker, until Harry realised he was bouncing at his feet while staring at a stone. Blushing despite the fact no one was around, he quickly grabbed the stone, running out of the classroom and heading straight to McGonagall's office.

Arriving, he knocked on the door with urgency, hearing a crisp order to enter. Opening the door and walking in, he saw McGonagall's face soften.

"Ah Mister Potter. I admit I expected you here before or at least with miss Rosier," the professor mused upon seeing the stone in his hand, taking it and raising it to her eye, inspecting it. After a thoughtful hum, she cast a detection spell, frowning as the stone didn't respond. McGonagall's jaw dropped as she cast more and more detection spells. "But…how?"

"What do you mean?" Harry questioned, blinking at the professor's reaction. The task was difficult, yes, but surely not unthinkable.

"This…this…explain how you did this, please."

"While attempting to change solely the colour of the surface, I realised that it wasn't possible without charmswork because we're altering the object itself. Objects have inherent colours, and while I could have tried to transfigure into a different rock material, it seemed like a cop out. Thus, I did a bit of reading to determine what actually determines an object's colour and that's when I figured it out. It's about the resonance of the object that determines the energy it emits, reflects and absorbs. I came to the realisation that transfiguration isn't so much two states, but rather a spectrum. Once you infuse magic, for instance a match into a needle, it's not truly a needle, close but not truly, given if it were, it would be in a stable state and not untransfigure back after a sufficient lack of magic. It also followed that the greater the difference, the greater the rate of change. Thus, I looked into material composition, and realised that if I could manipulate the energy levels, I could make a minor adjustment that changes the colour of the stone without majorly changing any other characteristic, fundamentally making it still the same stone save the colour change."

"I…" tapping the stone with her wand, McGonagall split the stone into two, observing its yellow interior. "Simply…simply remarkable. Very well done, Mister Potter, you've just disproved one of the minor laws of transfiguration."

"...what?" Harry blinked confusedly. McGonagall chuckled at his shock, gesturing for him to take a seat.

"Mister Potter, for centuries scholars have tried to perform the task you have just done. Perhaps the most famous partial solution to the problem was done by Alvia Estorivix, who transfigured the stone on a molecular level. Because stones are fundamentally minerals, what she did was change the composition of minerals, resulting in a different coloration but also fundamentally a different stone. You've…you'll make the papers, for this, have no doubt. However did you even think to try this?"

"It was actually professor Babbling," he answered, still in a state of mild shock. "We were talking about experimental techniques and controlling exogenous variables…and I figured out that I should better understand what causes colour. From there, it was a simple matter of acquiring some muggle textbooks and applying that knowledge into it."

"That's…simply remarkable," McGonagall shook her head. "Very well done, mister Potter. A hundred points to Slytherin."

Despite his smile, Harry couldn't help but feel his victory wasn't complete without Amelie by his side.

--Break--

Harry sighed as he flicked his wand, trying yet again to cast a protego. After the thrill of solving McGonagall's challenge had ended, Harry had found himself insanely bored. The few assignments given over the holidays (nearly half from Snape) were dull and simple to complete.

Having already read ahead in most of his subjects, Harry had taken the time to master various spells, quickly going through the list until he was now stuck on the shield charm.

"Protego," Harry incanted, a surge of frustration as a faint barrier flickered. It would have been useless in an actual fight.

'Hoot!' Hedwig landed on his shoulder, nuzzling his ear. Harry smiled at the owl, ruffling her feathers and drawing a happy bark, welcoming the distraction.

"How've you been, girl?"

'Hoot!' the owl crooned, flapping her wings slightly. Harry chuckled.

"The male owls are trying to impress you? Should I be worried?"

'Hoot,' Hedwig sniffed derisively. Harry chuckled again.

"Of course not, dear, I'm sure your prince will come."

'Hoot?'

"I'm just trying to cast a proper shield charm. Amelie's spells have been growing viscous during our duels, I can still feel the sting on my backside," he shuddered. Hedwig gave an annoyed bark, causing him to chuckle. "No, she's a friend. We have a…strange relationship."

'Hoot!'

"You'll always be my number one girl," Harry chuckled, ticking the owl's beak. Hedwig preened at that, booping her head on his side.

'Hoot?'

"I'm struggling with a spell," Harry admitted with a tired sigh. "It's…it's stupid. I'm easily able to master other spells, but not this. It's…ugh, but nevermind, you don't need to hear my problems."

'Hoot,' Hedwig scolded reproachfully. Harry chuckled.

"You're right, I probably should take a break," Harry mused, sighing. "Well come on, might as well get some fresh air."

As he walked down the corridor, he frowned at the sound of a door opening and closing. The only door was that of the classroom he and Amelie had appropriated…yet no one had passed him. Turning, he frowned at the sight of the door, completely unmoved. Shaking his head, he sighed, "I must be more tired than I thought."

--Break--

"Protego!" Harry cast angrily, yelping as a blast of magic radiated outwards, slamming into the walls and scarring the walls. His attention, however, was on the purple shield that sprang up from his side, and he turned, a curse on his lips before he saw it was Quirrel. "Professor, I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"Hardly, I would never discourage a student from trying to get ahead," the professor chuckled. Harry could feel the man's amusement, though he was unsure why. "Unless you're trying deceptive casting, I very much don't think your shielding is going well, no?"

"It's…difficult, I admit," Harry shrugged. "I've been able to get a knack for most offensive spells, but shielding, I find much more difficult."

"Hmmm," Quirrell hummed thoughtfully, flicking his wand and conjuring a wall of stone. "Show me your most powerful offensive spell."

Harry thrust his wand towards the target, hurling a red reducto curse, one he had mastered but a few days ago. The wall exploded into small fragments, and Quirrell narrowly managed to raise a shield around himself.

"Most impressive, mister Potter," the man nodded admiringly. "Very few of your peers could withstand such a powerful attack. So what seems to be the issue?"

"I'm used to concentrating my magic into highly potent areas, casting a dispersed spell is far more difficult for me," Harry admitted. The professor rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"That is something you should rectify immediately, mister Potter, lest you find yourself defenceless."

"I can dodge or deflect spells, can't I?" Harry frowned. The professor chuckled amusedly, raising his wand, conjuring a huge torrent of flames. Dispelling them, he swished his wand, conjuring several spears and hurling them towards the wall and impaling them deep into the rock. Harry winced at the display.

"Ignoring area-of-effect spells, defending against battle transfiguration often requires you to shield yourself completely and thoroughly without fail." Harry blinked, never having expected transfiguration to be useful in such a way. The professor must have guessed his thoughts, for the man laughed. "Surely you didn't think that transfiguration was restricted to turning a tortoise to a teapot, no?"

"I didn't know," Harry blushed.

"It is not necessarily your fault, I suppose. We are all blind to some degree…limited by our perspective. You are foremost limited by your inexperience. Magical combat can go far beyond hurling simple spells at each other. Dumbledore is renowned for his use of battle transfiguration, being the master of the art. Grindelwald was infamous for his use of elemental magic. Magic's boundaries are truly limitless if one possesses the will."

"What of Voldemort?" Harry questioned. Quirrell blinked, clearly taken off guard.

"The dark lord…he is an enigma, rarely showing himself in battle. The man has always preferred subterfuge and unpredictability. I would say his speciality is the dark arts, but given the broadness of the subject I may as well have said nothing. From necromacy to the mind arts, the dark lord seems to be proficient in many esoteric magics."

"The mind arts?" Harry prodded, hoping to learn more.

"Indeed…it was a…troubling time, the last war. The dark lord was famous for his use of the imperius curse, one of the three unforgivable spells that gave a practitioner a degree of control over the victim. Euphoria…the victim would find themselves under a trance, susceptible to the will of the caster. For most cases, the victim would show obvious signs of compromise, glazed eyes, stiff movements, unusual speech and the likes. It also required constant reinforcement, lasting at most hours after the castor had last pumped their magic. Voldemort though…his curses left little if any trace, and lasted years. No one could trust anyone else…it was not uncommon for a person to kill their own families under the imperius. Most committed suicide when they realised what they'd done."

"How did he not win?" Harry frowned, causing Quirrell to become pensive. "Surely with such asymmetrical warfare, he would have taken over long ago. The war lasted decades, and it never seemed he made much progress."

"That is a…difficult matter, even to speculate on. The dark lord's motives are known only to himself, though the popular narrative is that he feared Dumbledore," Quirrell mused. Harry frowned, sensing there was a deeper underlying answer…but whether to capitalise on that was the question. He did not hear from Quirrell the same voices that offered insight into others' thoughts. "Whatever his machinations may have been, the dark lord has been ended by you, mister Potter, through forces unknown."

"That seems like hogwash," Harry shrugged, causing the professor to blink. At the man's gesture to explain, Harry mused, "All throughout the war, Voldemort's taken care not to reveal himself, always employing subterfuge and attacks through proxies. Why he attacked my family personally, given they were rather unremarkable in the grand scheme of things, is the first flaw in such a narrative. Second is the assumption he had no contingency. I refuse to believe that perhaps the greatest magical user in the century did not have safeguards for himself. That's just…impossible to believe."

Harry thought he saw a triumphant gleam in Quirrell's eyes, though it was gone in a second, and he was forced to wonder if it were perhaps a trick of the light. "Some of the greats in history have fallen to hubris."

"True…but it just seems so out of character. For a man to conceal his identity, to rarely reveal himself in public, to not flaunt his knowledge or power…it just doesn't add up," Harry shrugged. "Professor…could you tell me more about his ideology?"

"His…ideology?" Quirrell blinked. Harry shrugged. "The books rarely mention anything beyond his belief in pureblood supremacy…and yet that must be folly. No pureblood with such beliefs would mask their identity, for they are too proud of their heritage. Besides, the war has resulted in the death of an incalculable number of pureblood families…his actions…it doesn't fit."

"That's an astute observation. No one truly knows the identity of the dark lord. I suppose in a sense, you could say he believed in the greatness of magic: the supremacy of magicals over muggles, the value of maintaining old traditions, and the importance of cultivating knowledge and strength," Quirrell explained. Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"And what are your thoughts?" he questioned. At Quirrell's confused look, Harry added, "You were the muggle studies professor before you took your sabbatical. I'd imagine you would have an interesting perspective on the magical versus muggle debate."

Quirrell appeared pensive, flicking his wand and conjuring a gun. Harry blinked, staring at the weapon warily. "It seems you are familiar with this?"

"It's a pistol," Harry nodded.

"Indeed. Muggles are quite ingenious in terms of invention, I must admit. A simple protego would shield against it…yet most wizards and witches are incapable of casting one…and for even those who can, their reactions are likely far too slow for the bullet's travel," Quirrell chuckled. "In my mind…muggles are to be feared, emulated and respected. Where magical kind has gone stagnant, muggles are evolving…becoming smarter, stronger and more dangerous. But what are your thoughts?"

"A muggle will always be inferior to a witch or wizard," Harry mused, causing Quirrell's eyes to widen in clear surprise. "To me, it's elementary. Everything a muggle can do, a magical can do, while a muggle cannot wield magic. That a muggle is forced to utilise more of their talents more efficiently means they are more potent…using more of their potential, but not that they have more raw power and potential."

"That is a very…interesting perspective…certainly one I didn't expect from you, mister Potter. This has been most enlightening, but let us return to your issue, for we have digressed significantly," Quirrell laughed. "In short, there are ways, to an extent, to defend with magically concentrated attacks. Fire your reducto at me."

Trusting in the professor's abilities, Harry fired the spell, blinking when the professor batted the spell, redirecting it to the side, where it slammed into the wall and carved out a sizable hole. Harry barely noticed as the professor repaired the room with several swishes of his wand.

"Spell deflection…the art of using a pulse of magic to redirect a spell. Magic, funnily enough, is like electric current, taking the easiest path available. Thus, with sufficient timing and precision, it is possible to deflect a spell…redirect it to the opponent, even."

"Can you teach me this?" Harry queried excitedly. The professor eyed him shrewdly.

"You are but a first year, mister Potter. A very talented first year, but a first year nonetheless. Most of my NEWT students cannot master such a technique…why should I spend time teaching it to you?"

"Because I will succeed where others fail," Harry answered simply. "I can also offer you compensation…celebrity endorsements, galleons…I am not without means. Training the boy-who-lived would be a huge boost to your prestige."

The professor chuckled, though Harry noticed the man's eyes were unblinkingly scrutinous. "Truly a Slytherin…but you have little that I want…for now, at least."

"Oh," Harry couldn't help but feel dejected.

"I will teach you, but there will be conditions. First, you will not speak of these sessions to anyone. Not even miss Rosier. Second, when in training, you will do exactly as I say without question. Third, you will always put in your best effort. I care not for excuses, only results. Are the terms agreeable?"

"What do you get from this?" Harry challenged. Quirrell chuckled.

"That's for me to know and you to figure it out. Any more questions? My patience is not infinite."

"Can I get a pass to the restricted section?"

"Whatever would you need that for?" the professor frowned. Harry wondered if he had overplayed his hand, but in for a knut, in for a galleon.

"You won't be available all the time. The time we have will be limited, so if I can progress through other means, I'll save the time with you and allow you to focus on the matters you wish to train me in," Harry reasoned. "It costs you little, and will likely make your training of me more expedient."

"A good point," the professor conceded, frowning at Harry's elation. "Make no mistake, I know you're manipulating me. The only reason you succeed is because I allow it."

"I carenth for reasons, only results," Harry parroted. Quirrell frowned for a moment, before a grin emerged on his face.

"Tomorrow morning, mister Potter. Eight o'clock, my office."