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The morning light streamed through the towering Gothic windows of the Great Hall, catching the dust motes that danced beneath the enchanted ceiling, which reflected the crisp autumn morning outside. Harry adjusted his blue-and-bronze striped tie as he made his way past the Gryffindor table, his new robes still stiff and slightly too long at the sleeves. The floating candles above cast flickering shadows across the ancient stone walls, though they were barely needed in the bright morning light.
The four long house tables stretched the length of the hall, with Gryffindor and Hufflepuff on one side of the central aisle, Slytherin and Ravenclaw on the other. The aroma of porridge, bacon, and freshly baked bread filled the air.
Percy Weasley's prefect badge caught the light as he leaned across the Gryffindor table, his face almost as red as his hair. The twins sat opposite him, their robes characteristically rumpled and their ties loosened, matching expressions of bewildered amusement on their freckled faces.
"It had to be one of you two!" Percy was saying, jabbing his fork accusingly, sending a bit of egg flying. "Who else would break into the common room at dawn?"
Fred and George exchanged identical looks of confusion, their eyebrows raised in perfect synchronization. "As much as we'd love to take credit-" began Fred, straightening his crooked tie.
"-for what sounds like an excellent bit of mischief-" continued George, brushing toast crumbs from his robes.
"-we were actually asleep for once," they finished together, spreading their hands in theatrical innocence.
"You expect me to believe that?" Percy scoffed, his prefect badge glinting as he straightened up. "Someone literally jumped over my head and escaped through the portrait hole! I saw a flash of... was it blue? Or maybe grey?"
"Jumped over your head?" George's eyes lit up with interest, a piece of bacon forgotten halfway to his mouth.
"Now that's style. This one time. We are actually as innocent as newborn babies." Fred nodded appreciatively, reaching for the marmalade.
"You weren't even this innocent when you were babies," Percy grumbled, adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses. "Mum says you tried to swap cribs with Ron when you were three months old."
"That was just early entrepreneurial spirit," Fred protested, spreading marmalade on his toast with exaggerated dignity.
Harry quickened his pace, the hem of his robes swishing against the ancient flagstones as he made his way to the Ravenclaw table. The table itself was positioned beneath a series of tall, arched windows, through which the morning sun cast long shadows across the worn wooden surface. The Ravenclaw students sat with notably better posture than their Gryffindor counterparts, their uniforms generally neater and their ties properly knotted.
Anna looked up from her perfectly organized notes, her quill paused mid-sentence. Her red hair was neatly braided, her uniform immaculate, and her Ravenclaw tie perfectly straight. She raised a single eyebrow as Harry slid onto the bench, his own tie slightly askew and his hair even messier than usual from his morning adventure.
"And where have you been this morning? I didn't see you in the common room."
"Oh, you know," Harry said smoothly, reaching for the porridge and trying to smooth down his rebellious hair, "just getting an early start. Wanted to explore the castle a bit before classes. Did you know the sunrise looks amazing from the library windows?"
The morning light streaming through the Great Hall's windows highlighted the skepticism on Anna's face. "The library isn't open this early," she pointed out, her quill tapping rhythmically against her parchment.
"Did I say library? I meant... corridor windows. By the... library."
"Smooth," Anakin commented dryly in his head. "About as smooth as sandpaper."
Anna gave him a long look, her blue-trimmed robes rustling as she shifted in her seat. "Well, wherever you were, you're just in time. Terry was just asking about our class schedule."
Terry Boot, his new bronze and blue tie knotted with almost painful precision, nervously straightened it for the fifth time that morning. His robes still had the stiff look of new clothing, and his shoes were polished to a mirror shine. "What's our first lesson?"
Anna pulled out a meticulously organized timetable, the parchment crisp and new, covered in her precise handwriting in different colored inks. "Right, listen up, first years. I've color-coded this by subject and professor, with asterisks for classes requiring special equipment." She cleared her throat, adjusting her position on the ancient wooden bench.
The other first years leaned in, their breakfast temporarily forgotten. Padma Patil's long dark braid swung forward as she moved closer, her new robes still carrying the faint smell of their packaging. Michael Corner nearly knocked over his pumpkin juice in his eagerness to hear, the golden goblet wobbling precariously on the worn wooden table.
"Monday mornings start with Charms - that's Professor Flitwick, our Head of House, in the eastern tower classroom. Then, Transfiguration with McGonagall in the ground floor corridor, followed by lunch, History with the ghost professor. Tomorrow is double Potions with the Hufflepuffs in the dungeons..."
Harry perked up at hearing their first class would be with Flitwick, pausing with his spoon halfway to his mouth. A drop of porridge fell onto his new robes, and he quickly dabbed at it with a napkin. "So we get to start with our Head of House?"
"Yes," Anna nodded. "It's a tradition for first years. Each house starts their magical education with their Head of House. Helps establish a connection, you see."
She gestured toward the staff table, where Professor McGonagall sat straight-backed in golden red robes, speaking with Professor Sprout. "Gryffindors are starting with McGonagall's Transfiguration." Her hand moved to indicate Professor Garlick at the far end, the Hufflepuff Head's honey-colored robes standing out among the darker colors. "Hufflepuffs with Professor Garlick's Herbology, and Slytherins..."
She grimaced slightly, her eyes flicking to where Professor Snape sat in his usual black robes, looking as though he'd bitten into something particularly sour. "Well, they're beginning with Professor Snape's Potions class."
"Poor souls," muttered Michael Corner, who had heard stories about Snape from his older sister. He unconsciously shifted closer to the Ravenclaw table, as if trying to put more distance between himself and the Potions master.
"At least we get Professor Flitwick," Padma Patil said brightly, adjusting her blue and bronze scarf. "I heard he was a dueling champion!" She glanced toward the staff table where their diminutive Head of House was cheerfully adding a seventh sugar cube to his tea.
Harry studied the complicated route to their various classrooms that Anna had sketched out on her parchment. The moving staircases were marked with arrows showing their rotation patterns, and certain corridors were highlighted in different colors. "This is going to be impossible to navigate. Why isn't there a proper map of the castle?"
Several older students at the table snorted into their breakfast. A seventh-year with a prefect badge nearly choked on his toast.
"A map?" Anna looked amused, her quill pausing in its notation of breakfast scheduling, and she turned to face Harry fully. "That would be far too sensible. No, apparently we're meant to learn by getting hopelessly lost and being late to everything for the first few weeks. It's tradition."
"But surely someone's made one?" Harry pressed, absentmindedly straightening his glasses. "The professors must have thought of it?"
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Anna shook her head, her braid swinging with the motion. She gestured around the vast expanse of the Great Hall. "But no. The closest thing we have is the prefects' patrol routes, and those are intentionally vague. Something about 'maintaining the castle's mysteries.'"
"That's ridiculous," Harry said, pushing his half-eaten porridge aside. His spoon clinked against the golden bowl. "The castle's massive! How are we supposed to find anything?"
"Trial and error, mostly," Anna shrugged, her perfectly pressed robes rustling. She pulled out another piece of parchment from her leather satchel, this one covered in tiny annotations and arrows. "Though I do have some shortcuts marked down if you're interested. Just don't share them with the Gryffindors - they still haven't figured out that the third-floor corridor near the Charms classroom is faster than going around through the courtyard."
At the mention of shortcuts, several nearby first-years leaned in closer, their ties swinging forward.
"A map would be a brilliant project," Hermione piped up from further down the table, her bushy hair barely visible behind a towering stack of books. The scratch of her quill against parchment was audible even over the general breakfast chatter as she began making notes. "We could document all the moving staircases, mark which doors are actually walls pretending to be doors..."
"And mark which walls are actually doors pretending to be walls," Terry added, his tie now slightly crooked from leaning forward in excitement. A splash of pumpkin juice had created a small orange stain on his sleeve that he hadn't noticed yet.
"Don't forget the vanishing steps," Michael contributed, absently stirring his cooling tea. "My sister says there's one on the main staircase that eats shoes. Lost her favorite pair of trainers to it last term."
"Sounds like quite the undertaking," Anakin commented in Harry's mind. "Though it might be useful to know escape routes for your future... adventures."
"I wasn't planning any more adventures," Harry thought back innocently, while attempting to discretely brush some porridge off his sleeve.
"Right. And those weren't pears on your pajamas."
"They were SNITCHES!"
"Everything alright, Harry?" Anna asked, noticing his sudden scowl. "You looked like you were having an argument with your porridge."
"Just... thinking about how much I hate getting lost," Harry covered quickly, straightening his glasses which had slipped down his nose. "Maybe we should start that map project. Though we'd need to explore the whole castle first."
Anna glanced at her delicately engraved pocket watch. "Speaking of getting lost, we should head to Charms. Professor Flitwick doesn't mind tardiness on the first day, but..." She gestured meaningfully at her perfectly organized notes. "Some of us prefer to be early."
The Great Hall was starting to empty, the sound of hundreds of feet on stone echoing off the vaulted ceiling.
Harry gathered his things, carefully tucking his new textbooks into his leather satchel - a beautiful piece decorated with the Ravenclaw eagle. His wand, warm and familiar, rested in the specially designed pocket of his robes, right above his heart.
As they rose from the long wooden bench, the remnants of breakfast vanished from the golden plates. The Ravenclaw first-years clustered together, their new robes still crisp and formal, ties straightened with varying degrees of success. Terry Boot was still fidgeting with his, while Michael Corner had somehow managed to get his slightly twisted despite its earlier perfection.
Harry felt a tug on his sleeve and found himself suddenly pulled into an alcove behind a tapestry. Tonks stood there, her hair cycling through shades of blue and grey, a knowing smirk on her face.
"So," she drawled, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. "Interesting breakfast conversation I happened to overhear at the Gryffindor table."
"Oh?" Harry tried for innocent, but his voice cracked slightly. "I wouldn't know anything about-"
"Please," Tonks rolled her eyes, stepping closer. "Blue or grey blur jumping over Percy's head? Either you've got a very athletic cousin I don't know about, or someone's been practicing certain skills I may have mentioned on the train." She winked, making Harry's cheeks warm.
Harry deflated under her knowing look. "Alright, fine. It was me. I snuck into their common room before dawn."
"Harry Potter!" Tonks's eyes sparkled with delight as she grabbed his shoulders. "You brilliant little troublemaker! How did you manage it?"
"I just... waited until someone said the password, then slipped in early this morning," Harry said, not quite meeting her eyes. "You're not angry?"
Tonks threw back her head and laughed, her hair turning a vibrant pink. "Angry? The only thing I'm cross about is that you didn't invite me! Percy's been absolutely insufferable lately - did you see his face?" She leaned in conspiratorially, close enough that Harry could smell her strawberry shampoo. "Though I have a feeling you're not telling me everything about how you pulled this off."
Harry's face burned brighter. "I- well-"
"Keep your secrets then," she said with a playful poke to his chest. "But next time you're planning any dawn raids, you better come find me first. I know a few tricks that could make things even more interesting." She morphed her nose into a perfect replica of Percy's, complete with his most pompous expression, making Harry snort with laughter.
"I promise," Harry managed, still red-faced but grinning.
"Good boy," Tonks said with a wink, ruffling his hair as she stepped back. "Now, better get to class before anyone notices you're missing. Though if they do..." She transformed her face into Professor Flitwick's expression. "I can always provide an alibi."
Harry ducked out of the alcove, still smiling and feeling rather warm around the collar. He had a feeling his pranking career at Hogwarts was about to get a lot more interesting with Tonks as an accomplice.
Soon, he reached the others and followed Anna through the towering doors of the Great Hall, their footsteps echoing on the ancient flagstones. The Entrance Hall soared above them, its stone walls lined with moving portraits who watched their progress with varying degrees of interest. A group of medieval monks waved cheerfully from their frame, while a stern-looking witch in renaissance dress merely sniffed and returned to her book.
"The Charms classroom is in the eastern tower," Anna explained as they began climbing the grand staircase. "We'll need to go up to the third floor, through the corridor with the suit of armor that hums opera - don't make eye contact with it unless you want to hear its entire repertoire - then take the smaller staircase past the portrait of Bridget Wenlock."
Their group paused at a landing, waiting for one of the staircases to swing into position. Harry could see other students making their way to classes. Below, a group of Hufflepuffs hurried toward the greenhouses, their yellow-lined robes bright against the grey stone courtyard.
"Remember," Anna continued, leading them onto the moving staircase once it settled into place with a grinding of ancient stone, "the eastern tower steps like to change direction on Mondays, so we might need to- ah, yes, here we go."
The staircase began to move as soon as they were halfway up, causing several first-years to grab the ornate bronze railings. Padma Patil let out a small squeak of surprise.
As promised, they passed the opera-singing suit of armor, which was currently in the middle of what sounded like a passionate rendition of "Habanera" from Carmen. Its helmet turned hopefully toward them, but Anna quickened their pace, her robes swishing against the flagstones.
The portrait of Bridget Wenlock, the famous Arithmancer, watched them pass with keen interest. "First years to Charms?" she called out, adjusting her brass-rimmed spectacles. "Mind the threshold, dears - it's feeling playful today."
The Charms classroom door stood open, warm light spilling out into the corridor. True to Wenlock's warning, the stone threshold rippled slightly as they crossed it, like stepping through a gentle wave.
The classroom itself was a circular chamber. Towering windows stretched nearly from floor to ceiling, their gothic arches framing spectacular views of the mountains and lake. Sunlight streamed through the colored glass sections at the tops of the windows, casting rainbow patterns across the tiered rows of wooden desks.
Bookshelves lined the walls between the windows, crammed with ancient tomes and curious magical devices that whirred and puffed small clouds of colored smoke. A magnificent brass telescope stood near one window.
Professor Flitwick's desk was positioned at the front of the room, with several stacks of books serving as his chair. The tiny Charms professor was already perched atop them, wearing robes of midnight blue embroidered with silver stars. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his bow tie was perfectly straight as he sorted through a stack of parchments.
"Welcome, welcome!" he called out cheerfully, his voice carrying clearly despite his small stature. "Find your seats, please! Ravenclaw first-years in the front two rows, if you would - excellent choice of house, by the way, excellent indeed!"
Harry followed Anna toward the front, sliding into a seat at one of the polished wooden desks. His new textbook, "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1," made a satisfying thump as he placed it on the desk.
"This is where it all begins," Anakin commented in his mind. "Your first proper magic lesson."
"No pressure," Harry thought back.
"Now then," Professor Flitwick squeaked from atop his stack of books, "today we'll be learning one of the most fundamental charms in your magical education – the Levitation Charm. The incantation is 'Wingardium Leviosa.'"
Harry watched attentively as the tiny professor demonstrated the precise wand movement. "Remember – swish and flick! The 'swish' creates the magical connection, and the 'flick' directs the levitation. Without proper form, you might send your feather flying across the room... or nowhere at all."
"Mind your pronunciation," Flitwick continued, "Win-GAR-dium Levi-O-sa. A mispronounced charm can have unexpected consequences. Mr. Boot, I still remember when your older brother turned his feather into a firecracker by saying 'Wingardium' too quickly."
The class laughed, and Terry Boot turned slightly pink.
"Now, everyone take your feathers and practice the motion first – without incantation, please."
Harry had already drawn his wand. Around him, other students were still fumbling with their wand cases or adjusting their robes. Terry Boot had somehow managed to catch his tie in his textbook.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Harry spoke clearly, his voice carrying in the high-ceilinged room.
His feather rose smoothly into the air, hovering perfectly at eye level against the backdrop of the mountain view through the towering windows. Unlike the usual first attempts, which tended to wobble like drunk butterflies, Harry's feather remained as steady as if it were mounted on an invisible stand.
A cluster of second-years in slightly worn robes appeared in the ornate doorway, pausing their book return to watch. Their whispers echoed slightly in the circular chamber as they nudged each other and pointed.
"Oh, my!" Professor Flitwick's small hands fluttered in excitement, nearly sending him toppling from his book-tower perch. His star-spangled robes swirled as he caught himself. "Perfect pronunciation, perfect wand movement - and such control! Ten points to Ravenclaw!"
"What should I do now, Professor?" Harry asked politely, pushing his slightly slipped glasses back up his nose with his free hand. His feather continued its serene hover while around him other students were just picking up their wands. At the next desk, Michael Corner had somehow managed to send his feather shooting across the room like a projectile.
Hermione's expression was a fascinating mix of admiration and fierce determination, her knuckles white around her wand as she watched Harry. Her own feather lay stubbornly motionless on her desk, despite her perfect theoretical knowledge.
"Well, try the light charm perhaps - Lumos - though students usually take a few days to-" Professor Flitwick's voice trailed off, his feet shifting on his book-tower as he leaned forward eagerly.
"Lumos," Harry said calmly. His wandtip ignited with a pure, bright light that reflected off the brass telescope near the window and cast star-like patterns on the nearby wall. "Nox." The light extinguished with perfect control. "Lumos Maxima." A brilliant ball of light shot to the vaulted ceiling, illuminating the entire circular chamber and causing several students to shield their eyes. The floating candles above seemed dim in comparison. "Nox."
Professor Flitwick's eyes were growing wider with each spell, his tiny hands clasped together in delight. A group of third-years had joined the second-years in the doorway. They crowded the carved oak doorframe, whispering excitedly among themselves as they watched.
"The color-changing charm?" Flitwick suggested faintly, his bow tie slightly askew from all his excited movements.
Harry pointed his wand at his feather, which was still floating as steadily as if it were suspended in crystal. "Colovaria." The feather shifted through colors like an aurora - crimson to emerald to gold - before settling into a shimmering pattern of Ravenclaw blue and bronze that drew appreciative murmurs from his classmates.
Padma Patil, seated behind Harry, had completely forgotten her own feather, which lay untouched on her desk while she watched with wide-eyed amazement. Her long dark braid had started to come loose from her earlier startled reactions on the moving staircase.
By the time Hermione had managed to get her feather to wobble into the air (earning an enthusiastic "Well done!" from Flitwick), Harry had successfully demonstrated Alohomora on the classroom's side cabinet, Reparo on Anthony Goldstein's cracked inkwell (earning a grateful smile), and transformed a match through various colors and back.
"Extraordinary!" Professor Flitwick squeaked, practically bouncing on his book stack, causing several ancient tomes to shift precariously. "Simply extraordinary! Mr. Potter, would you be interested in trying some second-year spells? The Enlargement Charm, perhaps?"
The third-years in the doorway were now taking notes on scraps of parchment, their quills scratching audibly. One of them, a tall girl, was heard whispering, "Better than my little brother's whole first term..."
Harry adjusted his glasses, trying to maintain a modest expression despite the warm feeling of accomplishment in his chest. "I'd be happy to try, Professor."
"Just keep in mind," Anakin's voice commented dryly in his head, "that showing off isn't very Jedi-like."
"I'm not showing off," Harry thought back, absently straightening his already-perfect tie. "I'm just... thoroughly demonstrating my understanding of the material."
"Uh-huh. And I suppose that color-changing pattern just happened to be Ravenclaw colors by accident?"
Before he could form a suitably innocent response, Professor Flitwick had conjured a small blue velvet cushion that floated down to rest on Harry's desk.
"For the Engorgement Charm, it's a spiral motion, like so-" Professor Flitwick demonstrated with his own wand. "And remember, intent is key..."
Harry's first attempt made the cushion twitch. His second made it swell to twice its size, the velvet rippling smoothly as it expanded.
"Remarkable! Now, try the Shrinking Charm - Reducio - to return it to normal size..."
The cushion obediently shrank back, earning gasps from the watching students. Even the portraits lining the walls had stopped pretending to sleep and were watching with interest.
"The Severing Charm perhaps? Diffindo - but carefully, mind you-"
A perfect slice appeared in a spare piece of parchment Harry had placed on his desk. "Reparo," he added immediately, the tear sealing itself seamlessly.
"Merlin's beard," whispered Anna from the doorway with the other students. Her usually composed expression had given way to open amazement. "Tonks is going to lose her mind when she hears about this. She still can't do a proper Diffindo without shredding half her robes."
Terry Boot had completely abandoned his attempts at levitation and was now taking detailed notes, his ink-stained fingers flying across the parchment. "Do the spiral thing again, Harry - I didn't quite catch the angle-"
"Immobulus!" Harry called out, freezing a fly that had been buzzing around Michael Corner's head. The insect hung suspended in a beam of sunlight, its wings caught mid-beat.
Professor Flitwick's expression shifted from delight to thoughtful consideration, his small fingers drumming on his topmost book. "Mr. Potter, I believe we need to have a discussion about your educational path. This class is... well, clearly not challenging you appropriately." He glanced at the frozen fly, which was still hanging perfectly motionless. "You're free to leave if you wish - though I'd like to see you in my office after dinner to discuss some alternatives."
"You should stay and help your classmates," Anakin suggested in Harry's mind. "It would be a good opportunity to practice patience and teaching skills and getting to know them better."
Harry watched as Hermione finally managed to change her feather's color, though it ended up more puce than the royal blue she'd been attempting. The thought of spending the next hour watching everyone else struggle with spells he'd already mastered made him fidget with his wand.
"I think I'll explore the castle a bit, Professor," Harry said, carefully packing his pristine textbook into his bag. "If that's alright?"
"Of course, of course!" Flitwick beamed. "Just remember - my office when you can. The password is 'Harmonic Convergence.'"
Harry slipped out past the still-watching upper years, their whispers following him down the corridor. His footsteps echoed off the stone walls as he walked, passing moving portraits who pointed and whispered behind their painted hands.
"You know," Anakin commented as Harry climbed a shifting staircase, "there are worse things than helping others."
"I'll help later," Harry replied mentally, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. "Right now, I want to find somewhere quiet to practice. There has to be an empty classroom around here somewhere..."
He paused at a window, watching a flock of owls soar past against the late morning sky. Below, he could see students crossing the courtyard, their robes billowing in the autumn breeze. The castle stretched out before him, full of unexplored corridors and unused rooms.
Harry found an abandoned classroom on the fourth floor, its windows thick with dust except where ambitious spiders had built their webs. Old desks were pushed against the walls.
"This'll do," Harry said aloud, dropping his bag on a desk. The thud echoed in the empty room. "Right then. Let's see what I can really do."
He stretched out his hand toward a broken chair. It flew across the room smoothly, landing precisely where he wanted it. "Force Pull, check." He pushed his glasses up his nose, grinning. "Let's try something more interesting."
The next push sent the chair crashing into the far wall with enough force to splinter it. "Oops. Maybe a bit too much..." He quickly repaired it with a wave of his wand, more for practice than necessity.
"Force Speed next?" He took a deep breath and reached for the Force. The world seemed to slow as he darted across the room. He skidded to a stop by the windows, laughing. "Brilliant!"
"Mind the furniture," Anakin warned as Harry narrowly missed a desk.
"Force Jump should be easy enough..." Harry bent his knees slightly, gathered the Force around him, and leaped.
THUNK!
"Ow!" He rubbed his head where it had hit the vaulted ceiling. "Right. Lower ceilings than the open sky in the forest."
"That's going to leave a bump," Anakin commented, amusement clear in his voice. "Though I suppose you could say you're getting ahead in your training."
"Was that a pun, Master?" Harry groaned, still rubbing his head. "Really?"
"Just trying to use my head- I mean, think creatively."
Harry rolled his eyes and tried a few more basic Force techniques. Objects floated and flew around the room at his command, but when he attempted more advanced powers, nothing happened.
"Master? I could use some help here. I can't seem to manage anything beyond the basics."
There was a pause before Anakin responded, his tone more serious. "You know, those classmates of yours could have used some help with their basics."
Harry shifted uncomfortably, picking at a loose thread on his robe. "I... I know. I just..."
"Didn't want to waste time helping others when you could be training?" Anakin's voice held a hint of disappointment.
"No! Well... maybe." Harry slumped against a desk. "I'm just not ready yet. For friends and all that. I promise I'll stay next time."
"Harry," Anakin's tone softened, "power without compassion is a dangerous path. Trust me, I know. But... I understand it's not easy opening up to others. Just promise me you'll try?"
"I promise," Harry said quietly, meaning it more than he expected to.
"Good. Now then, let's work on something challenging. Try to manifest the Force itself - pure light side energy. Visualize it taking physical form."
Harry closed his eyes, concentrating. He reached for the Force, trying to gather it, to shape it into something tangible. Nothing happened.
He tried again. And again. And again.
"It's not working!" He kicked a nearby chair in frustration. "I can feel it, but I can't make it... be anything!"
"Patience, young one. This is advanced-"
"I don't want to be patient!" Harry snapped, his temper flaring. "I want to-"
Suddenly, something manifested in his left hand - a spear of crimson energy, crackling with power. It cast blood-red shadows on the walls for a split second before vanishing, leaving spots dancing in Harry's vision.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Harry stared at his empty hand, his heart pounding. "What... what was that?"
Anakin's voice was very quiet. "That, my young apprentice, was Darkshear - a manifestation of Force energy twisted by anger and frustration. It's a Sith technique."
"But I didn't mean to-"
"No, you didn't. But dark side powers are always eager to answer anger's call. They offer quick results, immediate gratification. That's what makes them so dangerous."
Harry wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly cold despite the afternoon sun streaming through the dusty windows. "I'm sorry, Master. I lost control."
"The dark side is always quicker, easier, more seductive," Anakin said gently. "I understand that better than most. But that path leads to places you don't want to go, Harry. Trust me on this."
"I do trust you." Harry straightened up, squaring his shoulders. "Could we... try the light side manifestation again? Properly this time?"
"Of course." There was warmth in Anakin's voice now. "But first, take a moment to center yourself. Let go of your frustration. Remember - a Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense, never for attack."
Harry closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. The sunlight felt warmer now, chasing away the lingering chill of the dark side manifestation. When he opened his eyes again, his expression was determined but calm.
"Right then. Show me how to do this properly, Master."
"That's better. Now, instead of trying to force it to happen..." Anakin began explaining the proper technique, his patient instruction filling the rest of the hour.
Neither of them mentioned the brief appearance of the crimson spear again, but Harry couldn't quite forget the seductive ease with which it had appeared - or how natural it had felt in his hand.
As the hour passed, Harry packed up his bag. He had made some progress with proper Force manifestation, managing a few flickers of pure white light, though nothing stable yet.
"Don't forget you need to meet Professor Flitwick," Anakin reminded him.
"I won't." Harry paused at the door. "And... I'll stay in class next time. Help the others."
"Good choice." Anakin's tone was approving. "Though maybe don't demonstrate any Force powers while you're teaching them Wingardium Leviosa."
"What, you mean students don't usually learn levitation by actually levitating things?" Harry grinned, his mood lightening. "No wonder everyone found it so difficult."
"Just try not to accidentally create any more Sith weapons in Charms class. I don't think Professor Flitwick's heart could take it."
Harry laughed, but as he made his way down to the Great Hall for dinner, his left hand tingled with the memory of that crimson spear. He flexed his fingers, trying to shake off the sensation.
"A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense," he muttered to himself, repeating Anakin's words like a mantra. "Never for attack."
But a small voice in the back of his mind wondered just how many other interesting things he might be able to do if he just let his emotions fuel his power. He pushed the thought away firmly, focusing instead on what Flitwick might want to discuss.
Still, as he walked down the torch-lit corridor, his shadow seemed to flicker with hints of red in the dancing flames.
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