"Well, since you asked, we talked about the nature of charms. We discussed what they are and how they work. We even discussed the reason they are called charms. You know why? No? It's so easy you're going to kick yourself for not thinking of it earlier. They're called charms because you have to charm the magic into letting you use them. I mean why call it Charms when we're dealing with a plethora of spells - curses, jinxes, incantations - over the seven years we'll be in school?"
"You're making that up!" Dean accused.
"Not at all. When you try to do a charm, you have to entice the magic to let you do it. Sometimes you can get an anticipated result by forcing the magic to do what you want, but the easiest, quickest, and most reliable way is to beguile the magic first with some well rehearsed phrases like, 'Hey, magic-baby, where've you been all my life,' or 'Magic-baby, you are looking so fine today!' My personal favorite is: 'Magic-baby, did you lose weight?'"
"And just how are you do get that done and cast a spell at the same time?" Rascal… er… Ron inquired seriously.
"When you get older you start to understand and utilize non-verbal commands. At our age, we need to use sound to make the magic hear our request, so the best way to do it is to whisper that command just before you cast your spell. You'd be surprised at the results you get."
"And how did you come by this source of information?" Seamus wondered.
"Trial and error. Believe me, it took a long time to come to understand this. I'm just trying to help you boys along. And speaking of helping you out, it's time for lunch and I'm hungry. If you'll excuse me?"
Harry left the other boys whispering in the halls as he headed a few feet down the corridor and turned the corner. Around the bend was a familiar sight. Draco Malfoy.
"You've managed to impress me, Potter," Malfoy said quietly as he fell into step with the apprentice.
Harry resisted pulling out his wand. After all, this was just a kid. Not the whack-job he'd terminated a lifetime ago.
"Oh?"
"Charm the magic? Please. You had those buffoons falling for it, but I'm afraid that I've had a few competent tutors in my life."
"Do tell."
"Not that I'll tell anyone else, especially the scourge of the wizarding world, large Longbottom."
"Hmmmm, yes, his ego does need a little deflating," Harry agreed.
"That it does. A good afternoon to you then, Mr. Potter."
"And to you, Mr. Malfoy," Harry replied guardedly.
The two first years split at another intersection as they went towards the Great Hall from different directions. Harry had the distinct impression that Malfoy would be telling his father of him being an apprentice. Harry didn't mind that - it was bound to get out. But was there anything redeemable in young Mr. Malfoy?
He hoped so.
Defense Against the Dark Arts Class
"… and t-th-th-th-that concludes what we'll b-b-b-be learning t-t-th-this t-t-term. Questions?"
Harry looked at his watch: it had taken the Quirinus Quirrell nearly 10 minutes to state what the course outline was to be. Harry could have said the same thing in about 30 seconds. Or shorter.
Padma raised her hand. Professor Quirrell pointed towards her. "Sir, why does it smell of garlic in here?"
"D-d-d-d-defense a-a-a-against v-v-v-vampires," he answered. "Others?"
Harry bit his tongue and kept his hand down, away from asking the question of how one goes about willingly letting a parasitic being gain control of ones magical core and thus control all aspects of life. Harry had the distinct impression that Quirrell/Voldemort wouldn't approve of that question.
Interestingly enough, his scar did not hurt. At all. It had healed over the summer to a lightning-bolt white line on his forehead. There was nothing odd about it at all. It was a regular scar.
"F-f-for t-t-the r-r-rest of t-t-the class, I'll r-r-read f-f-from m-muh-my f-f-favorite passage." The professor then reached behind him and pulled out the book assigned for the course and flipped open to a chapter on vampires.
It was going to be a long class. Harry was regretting sitting in the front of the class, even if it was slightly to the side of the rest of the students. He'd chosen it for two reasons: it gave him open viewing of the rest of the class, and sheltered the same class from any spells that might come his way from possessed teachers.
Forty-five agonizing minutes later, Professor Quirrell finished reading the three paragraphs. As one, the Slytherins and Gryffindors turned to him with a questioning glance. Holy crap, Harry thought, they were looking to him to clarify the professor's dialogue.
Well, he wasn't one to disappoint. "Vampires are bad," Harry said to the class.
"Oooohhhhh," they oooohhhhed.
Professor Quirrell looked at the clock and Harry also noticed the class was almost over. Thank GOD!
"A-a-as t-t-t-this is o-o-our f-first c-c-class, I'll l-l-let everyone o-off easy. Read t-t-the f-f-first t-t-three chapters of your b-b-book and w-w-write up t-t-three feet s-s-summarizing w-w-what y-y-you read. Add y-y-your own input d-d-dis-discussing if t-t-the author is r-r-right or w-w-wrong."
Bastard. Homework like that the first day of class? He really was evil, Harry thought.
The bell rang and the students all got up to leave. Harry stayed behind. As the last of the students left, Hermione giving Harry a questioning look but still leaving, Harry approached the nervous professor.
"C-c-can I help you, Mr. P-P-Potter?"
Time to take some offensive. "Absolutely, professor. I wanted to let you know that I find Defense to be the most interesting class so far. I've been reading up on it and have already gotten into next year's coursework. I just wanted to let you know that if you need any help in this class, I am perfectly willing to help. I know it is difficult for you to speak so if you need me to go over any assignments to the class, I can certainly do that."
"I n-n-noticed t-t-the c-c-class looked at y-y-you at the end f-f-for c-c-clarification. Y-y-you c-c-certainly can s-s-summarize. I'll t-t-think about it," the man said vaguely.
"Great, professor. I'm sure I'll be able to help. I'm thinking of a career as a teacher so any experience being a teacher's aide will be invaluable." Harry offered his hand to the turbaned man.
After a moment's hesitation Professor Quirrell shook the hand.
Crap. Nothing happened.
Harry knew right then and there that this Voldemort was different since the protections his original mother left him didn't work on this creature at all.
It would have been nice if the old bastard had burned to death right then and there, but since it didn't happen, he was going to have to take the old murderer down a different way. Not that Harry was bloodthirsty or anything; he just happened to really hate Voldemort, the s-o-b.
....
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