Awakening || Harry & Hermione

Chapter 8.3

"All good, decent spells. Some of them you won't learn until sixth year." Flitwick scrunched up his eyebrows in thought. "But if you're right and you really are being used as bait for a person even Albus can't handle, then that might not be enough."

"If I'm right?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "Wait, so you really didn't know about all of this? About someone else putting my name in?"

"The professors weren't told explicitly what happened, no. Perhaps your Head of House knew the details, but the rest of us were given the basic rundown: somehow your name got past the goblet's defenses and you would be participating. I remember that Professor Sprout was quite irritated with the whole affair."

Harry felt his ire rising once again. "No one even bothered to ask how a fourteen-year-old had gotten their name in? Even if I had asked an older student to help me, there was no explanation on how I was chosen as a separate choice from all the other schools. That's not simple magic!"

Flitwick had gone back to his desk and was rummaging through a stack of books but he looked up at that moment, impressed. "Correct. Not simple magic at all, especially when manipulating Albus Dumbledore's enchantments. I suppose none of the professors really thought about it, they just—"

"They just thought, 'oh, there goes that Potter brat making trouble and seeking attention again!'" He felt numb.

The professor sighed and didn't say anything; his silence was answer enough.

"I can't do anything to erase how you were treated at the start of this year. What I can do is help you with whatever I can for the last task. Granted, you only have a couple of months left, but better late than never."

A book flew out of Flitwick's hands and floated over to Harry. "We'll start with this. My speciality lies in charms which you should know by now is just a subset of spells. It doesn't mean I'm incompetent with the rest or that I'm a stranger to the dark arts. Do you know what makes a normal charm or spell dark, Harry?"

Harry thought carefully, remembering the feeling when he had devised the air chamber. "Intent, professor."

"Well said!" Flitwick smiled sincerely. "If you turn to the first chapter, you will find various spells that were created in history for practical means and later used for different purposes. Wizard masonry, for example, relied heavily on a spell used to cut through stone as easily as cutting through butter. Then someone had the... lovely idea to use that on people instead and..."

The professor went on and highlighted different spells throughout the book which he felt could be useful to Harry. They weren't dark in the sense that Harry felt disgusted learning them; they were dark in the sense that he could see the possibility of turning them into weapons. He quite liked the approach.

When Flitwick ended the session and wordlessly passed Harry a note allowing him passage into the Restricted Section of the library, Harry couldn't keep his curiosity down any further.

"Not that I don't appreciate the help—because I do. But when I came to you last time for help, you clearly stated that you wouldn't involve yourself in the Tournament. What changed?"

For the most part, Flitwick's enthusiasm and larger than life cheerfulness made people forget about his height. But at that moment, his eyes dimmed and he seemed to shrink in on himself and looked so small—smaller than Harry had ever seen him.

"Do you remember, Harry? That day shortly after your name was called from the Goblet, in the Great Hall when you made a speech denouncing your fellow students and then turned to us—the professors—with such disappointment in your eyes, not saying a word and just leaving. I remember seeing that and feeling shaken, without understanding why. Today, I saw that look in your eyes again and it filled me with shame.

"I know that it might be far too late of an apology, but I hope you can forgive us professors for failing you so spectacularly."

Harry didn't know what to do with the apology. He wasn't used to his rants and emotional outbursts being taken seriously by anyone other than Hermione. Almost unconsciously, he tried to lighten the atmosphere.

"Well, you were all treating me like an adult, weren't you?" Harry attempted to smile. "I might have forgiven being expected to handle the tournament like an adult, if I had been given the adult status and benefits of it too. Maybe even given the right to manage my own accounts and have full rights over where I can stay or go."

"You mean—" Flitwick sounded aghast. "You don't have those rights? You're not speaking of Gringotts, are you? Have I been living under a rock this whole time or have you always been treated like this? Next thing you'll tell me that this isn't the first time you've been used as bait either! Merlin forbid..."

"Huh. Weren't you one of the professors in charge of making the obstacles to the Philosopher's Stone? I thought you knew that already." Harry himself had only realized much later this year when he had gone back to pick apart his experience at Hogwarts with his newfound suspicions. Hindsight was sometimes just plain depressing.

Flitwick sank into his seat and Harry reached out to refill his cup of tea.

He had a feeling he would be there for a while yet.