The first lesson in Ancient Runes took place in a small but surprisingly bright classroom on the seventh floor. It wasn't even cloudy, so sunbeams streaming through the tall, pointed windows fell on the rows of desks. Desks at which we sat — the chosen third-years who had dared to take Ancient Runes as one of their elective subjects. Many were afraid of its difficulty… well, mainly those who were just looking for the two easiest subjects to choose.
Professor Bathsheda Babbling stood by her desk. She was a tall, slender witch with dark auburn hair and green eyes, wearing robes… pay attention, green robes! Her face seemed flawless and without wrinkles, although she was older than even Snape, by a good ten years. This created a funny contradiction in my mind, because she behaved cheerfully and kindly. This cheerfulness and kindness in her demeanor didn't stop her from starting the lesson in an interesting way. According to older students, she explains things well and generally loves her subject. I think it was reflected even in her tone, so I was glad for her interest in her own subject. That almost always guaranteed that the teacher would try to explain things well. Snape just proved that rule… as an exception to it.
Runes, though… Runes! They are needed everywhere and always.
"Welcome to a world where lines and curves are magic. Power that can be imbued with simple writing," her voice was beautiful and soft. "You have chosen not just an elective subject, but a key that will grant you access to the very fabric of reality upon which spells, charms, rituals, and much more are embroidered. It is impossible to imagine magic as a science without runes!"
She ran her long, thin fingers over the surface of an old, scratched oak table. On it lay several smooth, dark stones, a thin steel stylus, and a few rune books.
"Runes are not the alphabet you are accustomed to," Professor Babbling continued, and her gaze swept the room, weighing our interest. "They are concentrations of concepts. We imbue each symbol with magical power. And our task for the coming years is not simply to learn their shapes and meanings. Our task is to learn to pour our magic into them. To understand why the Ansuz rune is the rune of communication and why it has that particular form. Why Uruz, the rune of strength, looks like the horn of an ox. You will gain knowledge, inscribe runes, practicing the knowledge you've gained, and so on in a circle. Good prospects, yes?"
We chuckled. She then picked up one of the stones and the stylus. Her movements were not fast, but incredibly skilled — devoid of any hint of fuss. The tip of the stylus touched the stone with a dry scratch, and under the pressure of her slender, seemingly fragile hand, an angular, powerful symbol began to appear on the surface. It looked like Thurisaz — the rune of the thorn, the gateway, and destructive force. This one was from the Elder Futhark.
After all, I knew a little about runes. I am studying rituals and alchemy, and without basic knowledge of at least one runic alphabet, the path into these disciplines isn't exactly closed, but it's limited to an impossible degree.
"Focus on the form," she said, not taking her eyes off her work. "Literally every angle and every straight line here matters. Distort the angle — and you distort the meaning, despite all the intention and magic you try to pour into it. Ease the pressure in a key place — and the contour of the rune becomes less hermetic, the magic will leak. Carelessness here is not a mere annoying spelling mistake. You risk an unpredictable, and often dangerous, magical effect."
She finished inscribing the symbol and placed the stone on the table. It seemed to emit a faint, almost intangible vibration — a feeling of restrained, inwardly directed power. And I could feel it all, feel it so clearly it was as if I could see it with my eyes. After the demonstration, explanations and a lot of theory followed. No, I mean a lot of theory!
Here, as in this case, runic magic wasn't limited to application in other disciplines alone. Runes by themselves, carved, say, by an ordinary person, held no power because magic cannot appear in them if it wasn't there initially. But wizards, when carving runes, pour magic into them. Thanks to the fact that runes, filled with magic, can slowly regenerate it within themselves, they were like mini-generators… very, very mini. But thanks to this property, they could at least preserve their strength much longer than simple charms.
That is, they couldn't power a moderately demanding artifact with their own generation, even if there were a hundred of them, but this generation allows them to maintain their functionality despite time. Even if the magic within them is completely depleted, the contours themselves, which have absorbed magic, will continue to accumulate ambient magic. But a hypothetical set of charms placed on an object would simply lose its functionality once the initial magic charge runs out. Unless, of course, the object has a magical power source or charms that can replenish the artifact's magic by absorbing it from the outside.
But again, even such charms don't completely replace runes, and the longevity and reliability of such solutions are highly questionable; otherwise, artifact crafters wouldn't study runes. Usually, the two magical traditions were combined in work, gaining the advantages of both methods. Runes themselves did have very significant drawbacks, but overall, I was satisfied with the first Ancient Runes lesson.
Yes, it was the first lesson in this subject, but the second of the electives I had chosen. And I had chosen three subjects.
The third year at Hogwarts not only signified a deepening into core subjects but also the beginning of a kind of specialization, when you could independently choose what you wanted to study. Although this choice was small and extremely flawed. Even before the end of second year, we had been given the opportunity to mark in writing the subjects from the list that we consciously wanted to study in third year. Well, I made my choices then.
In fact, I had known since first year which subjects I would choose, and I had already rejected several options without much deliberation.
Divination was on the list of what I rejected. Some people considered this subject useless chatter and grasping at air. In reality… it was like that… okay, just kidding. That's just prejudice.
In reality, Divination was a science… as much as philosophy is a science… although no, that's a nonsense comparison. All the bias against predictions from the so-called "technicians" of magic, i.e., those who study practical magic, often arises from the overly vague results. By the way, largely dependent on an innate, uncontrollable gift.
You either have a talent for it, or you don't. And although many methods from different schools of divination produced an effect even in those without talent or a gift, understanding your own prediction without a gift and a certain peculiarity was unlikely. And if you don't understand, what's the difference… right?
I felt not the slightest inclination towards visions in crystal balls, reading tea leaves, or anything similar, and I had no desire to spend years replacing understanding through a gift with understanding through experience, considering it irrational. An exception to the rule was perhaps dark divination practices, like necromancy-divination hybrids. In this matter, I knew straight away I'd succeed because it's an adjacent field! And I suspect I have an inclination for necromancy — I won't say how I figured it out, but there were hints. Especially after the recent killing…
Maybe I'm just dismissing divination in vain, as many gifted individuals only discover their gift when they study various methods and basics. Perhaps someday I'll decide to take it up; after all, I'd like to achieve "combat precognition."
I don't know if it's possible to achieve foresight of the immediate future for use in battle, but the world is vast, and magic in different countries and continents was studied and developed very differently. And although everything is slowly mixing, I've heard about unique practices in the field of combat enhancement in the Chinese magical tradition. Well, heard — Louis told me once. So, anything is possible.
Unfortunately, besides a couple of lines about it, I couldn't find anything more in books, as magical China was for a long time an extremely closed country in self-isolation. And even basic knowledge is still zealously guarded there. Clans and families keep their secrets so tightly that the contents of our family libraries are the bare minimum compared to what minor families and clans have there.
In any case, I won't learn much from this field in Britain. Divination here is not a highly developed art, and all specialists rely mainly on innate talent, not depth of knowledge. And at school, it's taught by Trelawney, who, I'll be honest, isn't known within these walls as a good teacher and is also terrible as a specialist. She still teaches only because she once gave a prophecy. And prophecies are a rare and highly revered thing.
As for the other subjects I rejected… I didn't even consider wasting time on Muggle Studies. It was laughable. A course designed for wizards whose knowledge of the non-magical world was limited to rumors and prejudice. I, thanks to that unique set of memories I carry within me, know about Muggles, their technology, and their society far more than any Hogwarts professor and even non-magical people themselves, because I also know their future… and I lived as a Muggle long enough, well… in that past life.
Studying primitive explanations would be an insulting waste of time for me.
There was also Theory of Magic, which wasn't a core subject in third year and could be chosen as an elective. It seemed like a useful and fundamental subject definitely worth taking. But the problem remained the same as when studying it as a core subject.
This was literally the reverse case of Muggle Studies. Even in third year, they studied what had been literally drummed into me since childhood during homeschooling, and everything that wasn't drummed in, I had long since studied or was continuing to study on my own. In general, the course was designed for Muggle-borns or those who hadn't studied anything at home… and hadn't left the house… and hadn't seen the world… in short, many "ors."
Perhaps after the O.W.L.s, i.e., after fifth year, I'll take an advanced Theory of Magic course — in the later years, they study it in depth, and in the seventh year, they even explain the principles of creating your own spells. But I have a feeling I'll get to that earlier than seventh year.
Unfortunately, disciplines like Alchemy, Artifact Crafting, or Ritualistics — areas that represented real interest to me — only opened up for selection from the fifth year. I still had to endure until then.
For these reasons, my choice fell on three subjects that I considered maximally useful and practical here and now:
Ancient Runes as the key to understanding the foundations of the magical world, encoded in symbols. After all, runes were the basis of everything, from protective charms and powerful artifacts to ancient spells and, especially important, rituals. Without understanding them, I would forever remain blind to the deep mechanisms of magic. Runes are literally the programming language of magic.
And most importantly — this was a subject more effectively studied under the guidance of an expert, not independently. Ahhh… how many ideas I have in my head now about their application… In short, I needed this!
Arithmancy was my second chosen subject. If runes were the language of magic, then Arithmancy was its mathematics. The study of the magical properties of numbers, their influence on events, people, and spells. Everything listed is merely a superficial understanding people have of this science.
Arithmancy includes all that, but it also blends theoretical and practical mathematics, as well as physics, under the umbrella of calculations. Formulas obtained through Arithmancy, which account for not only physical but also magical quantities and factors, make it one of the most important theoretical sciences in magical circles. It is this subject that helps calculate such an immense and incomprehensible thing as magic.
At first glance, this science might seem abstract, as everyone for some reason thinks it's about magical little numbers, but, again I'll repeat, that's just the basic understanding. Perhaps it's because many don't want to perceive magic as anything other than a miracle. In skilled hands, it's a powerful analytical tool. For example, a basic understanding of numerological cycles can warn of unfavorable days for important matters, help select perfect ingredients for a potion considering the date, calculate vulnerabilities in magical constructs, figure out some alchemical processes, and so on.
It might seem one could stop at two subjects and dedicate the remaining time to independent study, but there was one thing that needed to be studied in practice, i.e., live and with a teacher. I'm talking about Care of Magical Creatures.
This choice might seem the least obvious for someone in my position. But I saw in it not sentimental care for hypothetical Flobberworms, but a purely pragmatic necessity.
Creatures are resources and threats. And my father showed me that when he took me to our family's Hippogriff farm. Our family had many businesses related to magical creatures, and while I could get theoretical knowledge from books and see these creatures firsthand through the family business (one of many sectors), I wanted to learn about a wider variety of creatures. Learning their habits, weaknesses, peculiarities, and magical properties is critically important. In general, this subject, as I understand it, also provides practical survival and interaction skills with a whole layer of beings.
I will study these subjects until fifth year, and for now, I'm satisfied with my choice… And I must be honest with myself… I simply really want to gain access to Thestrals through the teacher. I like them too much; maybe I can feed them sometimes or at least pet them… I need to try to win over the teacher!
Ahem, ahem. I'm getting too hung up on these electives. It's just that lately I've been thinking a lot about how I shouldn't have taken all the subjects back then. The nonsense about Hermione in my past-life knowledge, where she couldn't attend everything, even though you could sign up for it all… was nonsense.
I know a fifth-year who is studying five electives, and he has no schedule problems. I even asked him, and he said if he had chosen everything, it would have been the same. Because the schedule is made according to students' needs.
My thoughts were dictated by a simple desire to get an 'Outstanding' in all subjects and maintain that until seventh year — just for the sake of reputation, because… It's needed for status, just like becoming a Prefect in fifth year, and then Head Boy.
A stupid thought. All electives would consume too much time; better to train more in my own room. In the Room of Requirement! What a thrill to finally be back at school. It feels like an eternity has passed. Mainly, I missed the Room, because it's a super convenient tool.
Well, at least I closed one piece of unfinished business before school. My only truly dangerous enemies — well, enemies — are rotting in the ground. True, I still haven't recovered part of my memory, but it will come. The main thing is that I've had my revenge. For now, I should worry about the rest, namely school, and particularly about Gryffindors.
Their first-years immediately started clashing with ours. They took an instant dislike to each other… within the first days. The first conflict has already happened, which I didn't manage to settle… well, and didn't particularly want to. Thanks to these initial conflicts and the rising tension, it's always easy to draw newcomers into my web. Interestingly, the incident with the first-years began to awaken all dormant conflicts in other years. Not much time has passed since the start of school, and already something is going wrong.
The year promises to be extremely eventful, and that only gives me free rein. But over the summer, I realized something important: the main thing is to be more careful. I am not invulnerable, and I must always remember that. Especially now, when I have to study and live with my parents' worst fears realized.
No one expected that through my mother's line, I would inherit the worst of the Black family's ancestral curses. And not in a weakened form, like my mother's, but in its most terrible manifestation, like my Aunt Bellatrix's — who, let me remind you, all of Britain considers a complete psychopath and sadist. And she's in Azkaban!
Actually, in every generation of the Blacks, everyone manifested at least a weakened variation of this curse, which could be learned to control by mastering Occlumency to a sufficient level. But almost always, someone inherited a more dreadful variation of this curse — and I "got lucky."
But screw it. Whatever it costs me — whether becoming a Master of Mental Magic or joining a monastery — I must regain control over my rage. My main weapon is my mind, and I have no intention of losing it.
Fortunately, I'll have all possible help in this matter. Now, in my expanded trunk, I have truly serious treatises on Occlumency — some of them my father even retrieved from the family library. As the head of the family, he could manage the cascade of protections guarding the library.
In my school intrigues, the main thing is to ensure that these very "free hands" don't get torn off. After all, my creation threatens to change the life of the entire school too drastically. I'm still wary of our Headmaster… when you don't know a person, you can't understand them, and when you can't understand — it's frightening.