Harry Potter and the Claw of the Raven

Chapter Seven

A few days later, after Charms, Professor Flitwick asked Harry to stay behind after class.

Harry waited until the other students had left, headed for lunch in the Great Hall, before moving to stand in front of Flitwick’s desk. “Yes, Professor?”

“Professor Dumbledore would like to see you, Mr. Potter.” Flitwick told him with his usual beaming smile. “He asked me to take you to his office.”

“Why?” Harry asked in confusion, he’d never heard of the Headmaster meeting with first years. “What about lunch?”

“He assured me that he would have some lunch sent up for the two of you.” Flitwick told him. “Now, if you’ll follow me, Mr. Potter.”

Harry followed his Head of House through the castle and then into a corridor containing gargoyles.

Flitwick stood in front of the gargoyle statues. “Ice mice.”

The gargoyles moved aside and Flitwick led Harry up the stone staircase. At the top of the staircase was a double oak door, which Flitwick knocked on.

“Come in.”

Flitwick pushed open the door and Harry followed the Professor inside. The office was large and cluttered. There were lots of portraits on the walls and tables with weird devices on them, he could see the sorting hat on a shelf, a huge bookcase, and there was a big mirror in the corner.

“Welcome, Harry.” Professor Dumbledore called from his seat near the fire.

Harry could see a plate of sandwiches sitting on a table near the Headmaster.

“I will see you later, Mr. Potter.” Flitwick told him before leaving the room.

Harry stood where Flitwick had left him feeling awkward.

“Harry, my boy.” Dumbledore smiled at him. “Come and sit down.”

Harry wasn’t sure what he thought of the headmaster calling him Harry. None of his other professors called him Harry, they always called him ‘Mr. Potter’.

Once he was sitting in a chair opposite Dumbledore, the headmaster picked up the plate of sandwiches and offered him one.

“I thought we could have some lunch.” Dumbledore said jovially. “I haven’t had a chance to catch up with you yet.”

Harry selected a sandwich. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, my boy.” Dumbledore took a sandwich for himself and then leaned back in his chair.

“Do you meet with all the first year students, Professor?” Harry asked curiously.

“No, no.” Dumbledore denied. “But you’re not just any first year, Harry. I knew your parents, you know.”

Harry took a bite of his sandwich. No, he hadn’t known. But then, according to ‘Hogwarts: A History’, Dumbledore had been working at Hogwarts since 1938 and he had been the headmaster since 1956. So wouldn’t he have known most of the students’ parents?

“So, tell me, Harry, how are you enjoying your time here at Hogwarts?” Dumbledore asked him.

Harry grinned. “It’s brilliant.”

“Splendid.” Dumbledore beamed at him. “I see you’ve been making friends.”

“Yes, Professor.” Harry nodded. “The guys in my dorm are great. Especially Terry, Terry Boot, I mean.”

“Yes, Mr. Boot does seem have all the makings of a good friend.” Dumbledore agreed. “I’m not certain that spending so much time with young Mr. Malfoy is wise though.”

Harry frowned and took another bite of his sandwich, if Dumbledore called Terry, Mr. Boot, and Draco, Mr. Malfoy, why did he call Harry by his first name. And who was the headmaster to tell him that he should and shouldn’t spend time with.

“Draco’s brilliant.” He defended. “Besides, we’re pretty much cousins.”

For a moment Harry thought he saw the headmaster frown, but in an instant it was gone and Dumbledore was smiling gently.

“Cousins, Harry? I don’t know who told you that, but any familial relationship you and Mr. Malfoy might share is very distant.” Dumbledore told him in a grandfatherly tone.

Harry shook his head. “No, see, my godfather was Draco’s mum’s cousin, and since I’m his heir, he must have adopted me at least a little. Which makes me and Draco second cousins.”

“Your godfather?” Dumbledore was definitely frowning now. “Who told you about your godfather, Harry?”

Harry shrugged. “I read about it.”

Dumbledore studied him for a while and Harry took the opportunity to eat another sandwich.

Eventually Dumbledore spoke, his voice sad. “I presume you are also aware that your godfather’s actions led to your parents’ death?”

Harry considered the question for a moment, trying to decide whether he should tell Dumbledore that his godfather had never had a trial. There was just something about the headmaster that he didn’t trust.

“Yes, sir.”

“I can’t tell you how upset I was to hear it.” Dumbledore told him, his voice still sad.

Harry wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say.

“Anyway,” Dumbledore seemed to shake himself out of his sadness and he smiled at Harry again. “I wanted to ask you how you liked the cloak I sent you for Christmas.”

“The cloak?” Harry had completely forgotten about the weird cloak he had received at Christmas. “That was you, sir?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore was beaming again. “Your father left it in my care before he died, and I thought you might enjoy having an invisibility cloak here at Hogwarts.”

Harry stared at him. “It’s an invisibility cloak?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Yes, my dear boy, didn’t you try it on?”

“Not really.” Harry shrugged. “Uh, thanks, for giving it to me, I mean.”

“You’re welcome.” Dumbledore nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to pop out for a few minutes. I’ll be back soon, feel free to look around.”

Harry watched as the headmaster left the office through a small door off to the side and then moved quickly towards the bookcase. All the books in it looked really old.

Harry tilted his head to the side so he could easily read the titles of the books.

A Hop, Skip and Jump: The Magical Theory of Transportation Spells.

Animagus Transfigurations.

Advanced Light Curses.”

Harry pulled the book on light curses out of the bookcase. He knew that light magic could be used for evil, but he had never considered that there might be light curses. He had barely opened the book when he felt a strange need to look at the mirror that was standing in the corner.

The mirror was really tall, it had a gold frame and it stood on two clawed feet. Moving closer to the mirror, Harry could see that it had letters carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Harry stepped in front of the mirror and then jumped when he saw a large group of people standing behind him. The mirror showed two people standing directly behind him, a thin man with hair like Harry’s and a red headed woman whose eyes were the same colour green as his own.

Harry stared at the people in the mirror. Were they his parents? Did that mean that the group of people standing behind them were his family too? He looked at all the other people and grinned when he spotted Draco waving at him from the mirror.

Harry looked back at him parents and reached out a hand to touch before remembering that it was just a mirror.

“I see you’ve found the Mirror of Erised, Harry.” Dumbledore’s voice came from behind Harry.

Harry flinched, he hated it when people snuck up behind him. “Yes, sir.”

“What does it show you?” The headmaster asked him.

Harry looked back and the mirror. “My parents.”

“I see. And have your figured out what the mirror does?”

Harry considered it. “Well, it showed me something I want.”

“Excellent, dear boy.” Dumbledore told him. “The Mirror of Erised shows us the true desire of our heart.”

Harry considered that. “Oh.”

“I see you were looking at some of my books, Harry.” Dumbledore said suddenly moving towards the bookcase.

“Yes, sir.” Harry followed Dumbledore and watched as he picked up the book Harry had been looking at.

“Curses, Harry?” The headmaster sounded disappointed.

“They’re light curses, sir.” Harry pointed out.

Dumbledore looked at him for a moment. “Hmm, perhaps you’d like to borrow a book?”

Harry grinned. “That would be brilliant.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you borrow this book though.” Dumbledore told him, returning it to the bookcase. “Perhaps, this one would interest you though.”

Harry looked at the book the headmaster had handed him. It was entitled: Alchemy and the Creation of the Philosophers Stone. It didn’t sound as interesting as the other book, but he was curious about alchemy.

“Thanks, Professor.” Harry grinned thankfully. “Can I go now? I need to get my books and stuff for my classes this afternoon.”

Dumbledore smiled at him. “Of course, dear boy. Let me know if you have any questions about that book.”

Harry thanked the headmaster again before heading back down the stairs. Dumbledore was weird.


Herbology was their last class of the day and Harry took the opportunity to tell Draco about his meeting with Dumbledore.

“What did you talk about?” Draco asked as they picked nettle leaves to be dried.

“My parents, you, Ravenclaw.” Harry shrugged.

Draco frowned. “You talked about me?”

“He asked about my friends. I told him that we were cousins.”

Draco smirked. “Bet he hated that!”

“I don’t get why he cares though.” Harry exclaimed. “I haven’t heard of him meeting with any of the other first years.”

“You’re the boy-who-lived.” Draco pointed out. “It makes sense that he would want to talk to you.”

“So?” Harry scowled. “If he really cared he wouldn’t have left me with the Dursleys.”

Now it was Draco’s turn to scowl. “I still can’t believe he made you grow up with muggles!”

Harry shot his cousin a warning look. “Not all muggles are bad.”

“But you’re not denying that your relatives are.” Draco pointed out.

“No.” Harry shrugged. “They’re pretty awful.”

“Don’t shrug.” Draco told him primly. “It’s unbecoming.”

Harry grimaced. “There are so many things that are unbecoming. If I stopped doing them all I’d be like a statue, completely expressionless.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Draco frowned at him.

Harry sighed. “It’s just hard. What am I supposed to do instead of shrugging?”

“Nothing.” Draco told him. “There is no reason for you to show every emotion you feel.”

“I guess.” Harry agreed.

“You shouldn’t say that either.” Draco pointed out. “Be decisive. You’re going to be the Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter in four years.”

Harry glared at him.


That night Harry dreamed of his parents. He dreamed that they were still alive and that he had grown up with them. It was a wonderful dream and a nice change from the nightmares he had been having, but it left him with a feeling of dread.

There were only six months left before he had to go back to the Dursleys. He knew he would only have to be there for two months, but he had gotten used to eating regularly and not being punished for every little thing.

His and Takashi’s morning meditation and run helped a little, but he was still upset about it later that day when he and Draco met in an abandoned classroom for Harry’s etiquette lessons.

The lessons had originally started with Draco teaching Harry how to nod gracefully and had simply continued from there. Draco’s mother had even sent them some books to help.

They were only ten minutes into the lesson on how to bow to a noble lady, which was apparently quite different from a noble lord, when Draco stopped with a sigh.

“What’s wrong with you today?”

“Nothing.” Harry frowned as he tried bowed over Draco’s hand again.

“No, you don’t actually kiss the hand.” Draco exclaimed, yanking back his hand wiping it on his robes. “Gross! You just pretend to.”

“Oh, sorry.” Harry sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked again. “You’re acting weirdly.”

“I saw my parents yesterday.” Harry answered after a while. “I know it wasn’t actually them, they were in this mirror up in Dumbledore’s office. I didn’t even know what they looked like until then.”

“Oh.” Draco sat down on one of the chairs. “How could you not know what they looked like? Surely your muggles have pictures.”

“They’re not my muggles.” Harry snapped with a sneer. “They hate me and they hate my parents. They told me that my parents died in a car crash.”

“They hate you?” Draco stared at him in horror. “Why?”

Harry sighed. “I don’t know. Probably because they hate magic as much as you hate muggles. Maybe even more. Well, that and the fact that they hated my parents.”

Draco was silent for a while. “So you’re acting strangely because you miss your parents?”

“No, yes, I don’t know.” Harry rubbed a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know them, so it’s not like I can really miss them. But last night I dreamed that they weren’t dead and that I’d actually grown up with them. And then I woke up and realised that I’m going to have to go back to the Dursleys for the summer.”

Draco grimaced. “Yeah, I’d be acting weird if I knew people were going to make me live with muggles too. I mean they’re muggles!”

Harry sighed again. “I’m really hoping that Lord Black will get a trial and be found non-guilty. That way I could live with him.”

“That would be cool.” Draco agreed. “Though even if he gets out of Azkaban this year you probably wouldn’t be allowed to live with him this summer. Azkaban turns people crazy. It might take him years to recover.”

Harry considered that. “Oh. That sucks.”

“Harry!” Draco groaned. “You shouldn’t say things like that. It’s so common. You should say, ‘that is unfortunate’.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I apologise.”

Draco grinned proudly. “You are forgiven.”

“There’s just so much to learn.” Harry complained, quite thankful for the change in topic. “I don’t think I’ll ever get it all.”

“Of course you will.” Draco argued. “You’re a lot better already, besides maybe you can get a proper tutor over the summer.”

Harry considered that. “There is no way the Dursleys would let me.”

“So?” Draco asked. “They’re just muggles. How are they going to stop you? We could ask my mother if she would be willing to tutor you. There’s no way the muggles would dare say no to her.”

Harry grinned. “Do you think your mother would be willing to do it?”

“I don’t know.” Draco admitted. “But I’ll owl her tonight and ask.”


A few days later, Harry received a letter from Draco’s mother agreeing to the boys’ plan and promising to send him some extra books to read in preparation.

The next morning Harry told Takashi the good news, but asked him not to tell anyone else. He didn’t think Jeremy or Terry would like the idea.

The rest of January went by quickly, and February went just as quickly.

During the first week of March, Hagrid’s hut burnt to the ground, but none of the students knew why. There were a lot of rumours, from Hagrid falling asleep while cooking to someone setting the fire on purpose. But, since no one was hurt and a new hut was built a few days later, people soon lost interest.

Harry’s meditating was definitely getting better and he was already seeing a difference in his wand work.

It had taken him months to be able to see his magic. It only lasted for a second the first time, but as the months went on it became easier to find his magic and he became less and less distracted. But it during the month of April that Harry’s meditating reached a whole new level

He started as he always did, breathing to Takashi’s count, and then focussing inwards towards his magic. Only this time, his magic seemed to be searching for him too. The moment Harry found his magic, it seemed to rush towards him and wrap itself around him. It felt amazing and he understood what Takashi had meant about learning to communicate with his magic. Harry also understood what Draco had meant when he had talked about getting to know his magic. He wanted to know everything about his magic and his magic seemed to feel the same way.

“Hey, weirdos!” Jeremy’s voice, along with the feeling of something jabbing him in the arm, disturbed Harry’s meditative state and he opened his eyes glare at the older boy. The first thing he saw was Jeremy’s face, the second thing was the thirty or so Ravenclaw students who were staring at him.

“Crap.” Harry groaned as stretched out his legs to hope off the table. “I’ll say.” Jeremy told him. “It’s seven o’clock. You two must have been at it for hours.”

Takashi groaned and climbed off the table. “Why didn’t someone disturb us earlier?”

“Because Harry was glowing.” Jeremy told them.

“What?” Harry asked in shock. “Why the hell would I be glowing?”

“That’s good question.” Jeremy said with a scowl. “I was about to get in the shower when one of the second years came in talking about the two students sitting on desks in the common room, one of whom was glowing.”

Harry looked at Jeremy and grinned when he realised that the older boy was still in his pyjamas.

“Thanks, Jeremy.” Takashi told his friend gratefully. “We appreciate it.”

Jeremy just scowled at him. “Meditating weirdoes.” He muttered as he stalked out of the common room.

“So, you were glowing?” Takashi said to Harry with a grin. “That’s pretty advanced stuff, Harry.”

Harry shrugged uncomfortably and then looked up as the all the other students began to disperse.

“Uh, oh.” Takashi muttered. “Someone told Flitwick.”

Harry turned around and winced as he saw their Head of House coming towards them.

“Merry meet, Mr. Nado, Mr. Potter.” Flitwick greeted them. “Let’s go speak somewhere more private shall we?”

Harry and Takashi followed the professor back to his office in silence.

“Now,” Flitwick said kindly once they were all sitting down. “Why don’t you tell me what happened.”

“I’ve been teaching Harry how to meditate.” Takashi started. “He read about it in a book and wanted to learn, and I have meditated every morning since I was five, so I said I’d teach him. We start at five, and we’re normally done by about six.”

“And what happened today?” Flitwick asked.

Takashi shrugged. “I don’t know, Professor. We started at five as usual, but it was different from normal. It felt a bit like when I meditate with my grandfather, I could concentrate so much better. Then the next thing I knew, Jeremy was punching my arm.”

“I see.” Flitwick nodded. “Mr. Potter, what happened for you today?”

Despite Harry’s anxiety, he couldn’t help but grin at the memory. “It was amazing. I’ve been seeing my magic for weeks now, but this morning it actually interacted with me. I don’t really know how to explain it, except to say that I talked to it and it talked back.”

“Well,” Flitwick seemed a bit taken aback. “Perhaps it would be best if you didn’t meditate in the common room anymore. Or if you do, make sure you set an alarm to disturb you.”

“Of course, Professor.” Takashi agreed.

“And if you don’t mind, Mr. Potter, I suspect you would benefit talking to someone who had more experience meditating?” Flitwick suggested.

Harry looked at Takashi unsurely, he didn’t want to insult the other boy.

“That’s a great idea, Professor.” Takashi answered for him. “I’m completely out of my depth.”

“Is that alright with you, Mr. Potter?” Flitwick asked.

“Yes, sir.” Harry nodded.

“Excellent.” Flitwick looked relieved. “I will try and arrange something for you by the end of the day.”

“Thanks, Professor.” Harry smiled.

“Not at all, Mr. Potter, not at all.” Flitwick stood and showed Harry to the door. “And, Mr. Potter, it would be best if you don’t meditate again until you’ve talked to your new teacher.”

“Yes, Professor.” Harry agreed before following Takashi out the door.

They decided to forgo their morning run and instead went straight down to breakfast.

Harry walked through the door and froze and the entire room turned to look at him and then started whispering.

“Don’t worry about it.” Takashi told him. “They’ll get over it.”

Harry was about to follow Takashi to the Ravenclaw table when he saw Draco walking towards him.

“Glowing, Harry?” Draco asked even as he bowed.

Harry could feel his face flushing and he groaned. “I didn’t even know it was possible.”

Draco laughed at him. “I heard a version where you were levitating as well.”

Harry shook his head. “I wasn’t!”

“I presumed not.” Draco told him with smirk. “I’ve never heard of some levitating while meditating, but then you are Harry Potter – the boy-who-lived – so who can tell.”

Harry scowled at him. “Have you ever glowed when meditating?”

“No way.” Draco denied. “I am nowhere near that good at meditating.”

“Neither am I.” Harry hissed at him. “Well not until this morning at least.”

“Did you figure out what kind of magic you have?” Draco asked quietly.

Harry nodded remembering that he’d never actually told Draco that he was dark. At least now he’d be able to tell his cousin without admitting to being a Parselmouth.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Okay.” Draco told him. “We should have breakfast.”

“Right.” Harry nodded. “Merry part.”


“So you’re dark right?” Draco asked Harry when he walked into the abandoned classroom they met in. “Otherwise you would have told me in the hall.”


Draco grinned at him. “Welcome to the club.”

Harry smiled weakly. “I’m just glad other people can’t tell. Can you imagine how much they would freak out?”

“It would be a beautiful moment.” Draco smirked.

“You won’t tell anyone will you?” Harry asked anxiously.

“Of course not.” Draco looked offended. “I won’t even tell my parents.”

Harry shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, of course you wouldn’t. Thanks!”

“What did it feel like?” Draco asked curiously.

“My magic?” Harry asked. “I can’t explain it. It was beautiful and amazing. I felt as though I was meeting the other half of myself, a half I hadn’t even realised was missing.”

“Wow.” Draco looked jealous. “I should meditate more.”

“I meditate every morning.” Harry told him. “But Professor Flitwick says I’m not allowed to meditate again until I’ve talked to my new teacher.”

“Who is going to be teaching you?”

“I don’t know.” Harry told him. “He didn’t say.”

“How did you get that spell so quickly in Defence?” Draco asked suddenly.

“I don’t know.” Harry shook his head. “When I first started meditating Takashi told me that once you had learnt to communicate your magic you could just ask it to do a spell. Today was like that in all my classes.”

“Wow! I absolutely need to meditate more!”


It turned out that the meditation teacher that Flitwick had talked about was Professor Snape and so at seven thirty Harry made his way down to Snape’s office.

“Merry meet, Potter.” Snape answered the door with a bow.

“Merry meet, Professor.” Harry nodded back.

“Sit down.” Snape instructed before sitting behind his desk.

Harry sat down and waited for the Professor to speak.

“Professor Flitwick tells me that you have been learning to meditate.” Snape said eventually.

“Yes, sir.” Harry nodded. “Takashi Noda has been teaching me.”

“How long have you been learning?” Snape asked.

“All year. We started my third morning at Hogwarts and I haven’t skipped a morning since.” Harry told him.

“Tell me what motivated you to begin mediating.” Snape instructed him.

Harry considered that for a minute, trying to remember. “I was reading a book on wandless magic, sir.” He remembered. “It said that the first step was meditation. I’d completely forgotten. I haven’t even tried it yet.”

“I see. Tell me what happened this morning.”

“Apparently I glowed.” Harry frowned at the memory, people had been staring at him and whispering all day. “At first everything was normal. I was meditating and I could see my magic, but this time instead of just looking at me it was as though my magic wanted to meet me. All of a sudden it was surrounding me and we could communicate.”

“You could communicate with your magic?” Snape was leaning forward.

“Sort of.” Harry frowned in concentration. “It wasn’t like talking to a person. We didn’t talk, but we were communicating.”

“I see.” Snape stared at him. “And then what happened?”

“Jeremy jabbed me in the arm and jolted me out of it.” Harry said. “Apparently we’d been meditating for two hours.”

“And have there been any side effects?” Snape asked.

“Well, it’s been a lot easier to do spells today.” Harry told him.

“Do you know why you glowed, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked him.

“No, sir.”

“You were glowing because, as you said earlier, your magic surrounded you. It is very rare for a wizard to reach this level of intimacy with his magic, let alone a wizard of your age.” Snape glared at Harry.

“Oh.” Harry considered that. “Do you know why it’s happened to me, Professor?”

“It is a sign that you are a very powerful wizard.” Snape didn’t look pleased. “I would hypothesise that your intimacy with your magic is partly due to the fact that it saved your life when you were an infant.”

“Oh, but it’s not a bad thing, is it?” Harry asked.

“No, Potter.” Snape glared. “It is, in fact, a very good thing. Now get into position, I am going to supervise you meditating.”

Harry nodded and moved to sit on the floor with his legs crossed. When the professor gave him a nod he closed his eyes and began his breathing. It took him a few minutes to settle himself in his breathing and find his magic, but the minute he saw it he was enveloped by it again.

There were no words, Harry could use to describe the experience. Except that for the first time in his life he had found someone, or rather something, who truly loved him.

“Potter!” Snape’s voice shook him out of his meditative state.

Harry opened his eyes and looked up at the Professor. “Yes, sir.”

“Sit back on the chair.” Snape commanded before continuing. “The first thing I will teach you is how to prevent yourself from glowing. It draws unnecessary attention to yourself.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You will meet me here at eight every evening and I will supervise your meditating for an hour.” Snape told him. “You are not to meditate when I am not supervising you.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry nodded. “Do you think it would be okay for me to start trying wandless magic, Professor?”

Snape considered him for a moment. “I would advise against it, Mr. Potter. At least until you have learnt to control your magic enough to prevent the glowing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are dismissed.” Snape told him sternly.

“Thank you, sir.” Harry nodded to the Professor. “Merry part.”

“Merry part.”

The next morning Harry woke up at the usual time and used the extra time to read, before joining Takashi on their run at six. Just because he couldn’t meditate with the older boy didn’t mean he couldn’t keep at least some of his old routine.

His lessons with Professor Snape were strange. The Professor had told him that people could get addicted to their magic if they didn’t learn to control it. He was teaching him to show his magic who was boss. It was both hard and exciting. Hard because of the work involved, and because meditating was no longer a restful experience, and exciting because he could already feel his magic changing.

Professor Snape didn’t let him be immersed in his magic again, instead he taught strategies to control it and then jolted him out of meditation every time he started glowing. His magic wasn’t impressed and would act out in class, either refusing to co-operate or overpowering the spell and causing an explosion.

A week after his lessons with Professor Snape had started, Harry was fed up with the whole thing.

“Why do I have to control it?” He asked as he settled on the floor to begin mediating. “It felt amazing to just spend time with it.”

“Because, Mr. Potter, if you don’t learn to control it, it will control you.” Snape told him with a glare. “There are very few wizards with your level of power, and even fewer who don’t end up in Azkaban or St. Mongos.”

“Azkaban?” Harry asked in shock. “Why would they end up there?”

“Because your magic has no sense of empathy. It does not care about anything or anyone except you and it will kill to please you.” Snape explained. “Either that or it will drive you insane.”

“But I don’t want it to kill anyone.”

“Your magic will not care.” Snape told him. “There have been cases of a wizard’s magic putting a woman the wizard liked under imperio to force her to like him return. In one case a witch’s magic not only put the wizard under the imperious curse, but also killed her boyfriend.”

“But my magic wouldn’t do that?” Harry defended.

“Wouldn’t it?” Snape asked him silkily. “Are you so sure?”

Harry considered it. The problem was that he wasn’t sure. His magic always made him feel as though it would do anything for him. A feeling he had liked. He’d never had anyone like that – someone who loved him that much. Except what if the Professor was right and his magic would do bad things for him?

“Our magic is addicting, Mr. Potter.” Snape said gently. “It makes us feel loved, makes us feel special promises to protect us. But it does not have a conscious and it does not see things in terms of right and wrong.”

“So I need to learn to control it.” Harry said firmly. “Does that mean I can never allow myself to feel immersed in it again?”

“Not unless you want it to control you.” Snape told him. “It is a tool, Mr. Potter, and must be treated as such.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Alright, sir. Should I start now?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter.” Snape intoned

With new motivation to force his magic to submit, Harry made more progress than he had all week.

After the mediation was over, and the Professor had dismissed him, Harry made his way up to his common room. He greeted his friends, but soon excused himself and went to bed early. As he lay beneath his covers Harry tried to reconcile the idea that his magic, his wonderful magic who loved him, might one day kill someone if he didn’t learn to control it.

Harry cried himself to sleep – mourning the fact that he could never again feel the feeling of being loved and accepted by his magic.

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