Mother Magic and the Philosopher's stone

Chapter Thirteen

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The Great Hall was packed with students all eating their lunches with glee. It seems Harry hadn't missed lunch at all. Instead of the strict house table rules present on celebratory nights, like the opening feast, Harry could see many students sitting with others of different houses, such as Draco, Padma, and Neville, all sitting at the Ravenclaw table, with a seat open for him.

'Harry!' It was Padma, waving happily while tucking in to a large jacket potato. Harry had only ever had the microwavable ones, and the idea of a fresh and fluffy one covered in copious amounts of butter had him salivating.

'Hey Padma, Draco, Neville.' Harry greeted his friends, slipping into the empty seat and adding a generous portion of jacket potato to his plate.

'I can't believe you got your transfiguration on the first try.' Draco said indignantly, grumpily spooning a mound of peas into his mouth.

'I told him all about it Harry, but he didn't think it was actually possible- apparently no one in Slytherin or Hufflepuff managed to get it perfect!' Neville seemed a lot brighter and confident than the stuttering mess that had introduced himself to Harry only a few short days ago. Perhaps it was good company- ones that heaped praise, but Harry was glad of the change.

'That's a point- how in the world did you manage to get it perfect right away?' Padma inquired. Harry just smiled wryly and tapped his nose.

'C'mon Padma, I have to have some secrets after all!' her face fell immediately. 'But maybe I could help teach you so you'll get it perfect next time?'

'That would be lovely Harry! But that reminds me, Roger Davies- Ravenclaw Quidditch captain? He asked me to tell you to meet him on the Quidditch pitch after dinner, I think he wants to test your skills!'

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The air was dramatically cooled by the time Harry had got onto the grounds, and he pulled his cloak tighter to ward off the chilly air. He could spot Davies already, walking around the perimeter of the pitch with his wand out, muttering words in a language he hadn't yet come across, and forming complicated patterns with the mahogany stick. He stopped suddenly, and with a quick slash of his wand the air shimmered, encircling the whole pitch in a slightly pink hue.

'Davies!' The older boy turned, smiling, and walked towards the centre of the pitch where a squat pine chest sat, bucked with large gold clasps.

'Hullo Potter, Congratulations on making our new Seeker, Flitwick told me as soon as he could. I was actually expecting you to be a little later than you were, it's quite the task to fight the crowds in the Great Hall.' Harry shrugged smiling, it was at least an advantage in large crowds to be so small for his age- slipping through the student was an easy task when any gap would fit you.

'What were you doing to the edge of the pitch Davies?' Harry asked curiously, inspecting the edges of the shimmers. He passed his hand through them, feeling the slight tingle that was unmistakably the Captain's magic.

'Good eye Potter- They're Norwegian Quidditch wards. They'll keep the snitch inside the grounds of the pitch, so I don't have to go hunting for it later. Training snitches can be a little faulty, I don't want to take that risk.' No wonder Harry couldn't understand what he was saying, Lady Magic had never taught him old Norse so he had no reason to know. But it was fascinating, nonetheless.

'Norwegian huh? Does Latin or Greek not have an equivalent?' Davies smiled at the question, clearly proud of the little Ravenclaw for intelligent questions.

'I'm sure they do, but Norse magic works much better with the Hogwarts wards themselves, I don't have to use as much magic to power them- after all Scotland was settled by Norse wizards centuries ago. It just seems to work more efficiently- Something my own captain passed down to me, and his before- don't tell the Gryffindors!'

It seemed like Harry was about to ask another question, but the heavy looking chest between them jerked slightly, and it seemed to bring Davies back to Quidditch immediately.

'So! Seeker! You know the rules of Quidditch?' Harry nodded enthusiastically.

'I listen to the UQC [1] commentaries every week!'

'Right. Hooch thinks you're a fantastic flier, so I'll let you borrow my broom tonight- I don't mind coaching you from an old shooting star. We'll do drills first, catch the snitch, and then we'll see how you are at dodging Bludgers. Mount up! We have until curfew!'

Harry groaned inwardly, thinking of the rather tedious essay he put off coming here, and how it seemed much nicer to be writing about Goblin wars than this.

--

From her place in the void Lady Magic watched Quirinus Quirrell pace in his chambers, muttering erratically to himself. He seemed to have been doing this for hours, and the carpet was already showing signs of wear in a straight line down the middle.

'The stone has made it to Hogwarts- right under Dumbledore.' An unfamiliar voiced hissed. 'You have failed me yet again Quirrell, and if it wasn't for our precarious position, I would not hesitate to Crucio you. In fact- I still might!'

'I'm sorry Master!' Quirrell pleaded, the stutter that been so prominent outside of those four walls vanishing most suspiciously. 'I will do anything to please you!'

'Unwrap me! I wish to be free!' With clearly shaking hands, the professor unwrapped the turban, kneeling in front of the mirror in such a rehearsed way that it was clear this was a usual occurrence. On the bald head of Professor Quirrell was the ghastly and warped face of the once handsome Tom Riddle. Distorted into a snake like parasite marring the back of assumedly an innocent man. 'You have failed to serve your master, and for that you will be punished.' Quirrell whimpered.

'Find out the protections around the stone. This shall be done by the end of the year or you will pay with blood!' he nodded obediently, and with a small noise of satisfaction, what was left of Lord Voldemort became silent once more.

Lady Magic looked closer, peering into the visage of the half-formed man. No mortal creature was capable of such wicked perversions of nature. This was the work of the darkest magic- perhaps that which called her to the Earth once more.

Curious. It seemed she had another mystery to solve.