In Madam Pince's gaze, I could clearly see the rapid spinning of well oiled mental gears. My request did not surprise her. And why would it? Young wizards ask all sorts of things.
"Follow me," the librarian said dryly, leaving the desk, and as always, it was unclear whether the student in question was actually following.
As soon as we reached the first row of shelves, Madam Pince gestured left.
"Charms…" and moved on.
"Transfiguration…" she pointed to another row.
"Potions…"
"Herbology," Madam Pince stopped and turned to me. "These are the basic subjects required to approach the beginning of healer training. They will be required throughout your path, in advanced form. Next…"
She walked again between the shelves, students with books flashing by without paying us any attention.
"Human anatomy and physiology…" she pointed again, this time not to a shelf in general, but a specific one.
"Basic Alchemy…"
"Basic theory of Maleficistics…"
"The theory of creating or modifying charms and spells…"
We approached large open doors leading to another section of the library, noticeably smaller.
"The Restricted Section. Here, Mr. Granger, are pieces of knowledge especially dangerous either to the caster or the target. Knowledge both in the disciplines already mentioned and in those you will need: Ritual Magic, Dark Magic, Maleficistics, Blood Magic."
"That is… intense."
"Exactly, Mr. Granger. Access to the Restricted Section for independent study can be granted by the headmaster's personal order starting from sixth year. Or in seventh year, strictly to the books specified by the professor issuing the permit."
"And if I were a personal student of one of the professors?"
"In that case, the rules allow access to educational material at the discretion of your mentor."
"Thank you, Madam Pince."
"No need to thank me. It is my job."
The librarian quickly went about her business, leaving me in mild contemplation. Technically, I can heal using life energy alone and a couple of healing magic circuits preserved in my memory. Using universal rules of circuit construction, one can create new ones like a construction set, but I have no blocks, and reverse engineering is far from reliable. I would even say the least reliable method.
Returning to the front of the library, I decided to study the basics for now. Yes, the school curriculum, apparently, aside from instilling psychological switches of "can" and "cannot," develops wand handling skills, ingredient handling skills, working with arithmantic formulas, combining imagination with formulas, and so on. In short, any professor, before granting me access to the Restricted Section, will check exactly these skills through mastery of the school program, personal maturity, moral compass, and the desire to learn alongside at least some talent.
Therefore, despite my ability to do whatever I want with neutral energy, I need to learn and practice the local style of using it. And also test something. The influence of various energies on local magic. I will do that in the common room, using the most accessible one, fire energy.
I grabbed the first Charms book I saw from the shelf and sat at a table, opening the first page. My mind kicked into gear, eyes racing over the text, absorbing meaning at great speed, and my thoughts returned to another topic. The bow.
Why did I decide to make a bow, and not just any bow, but a true elven one? It will take time. Two months at least. That will give the Ministry time to catch Black and remove the Dementors. In that case, I can in good conscience leave them alone for the near future. In the long term, I will destroy them anyway. On the other hand, I will be self deceiving that I am preparing punishment for the Dementors, not sitting idle. But if the Dementors are not removed… The elf fragment is already snickering in anticipation of hunting flying undead. With a bow. In the forest.
Purely theoretically, I could create an artifact network across the entire area and simply burn the Dementors out. But such a magical feat would stir the English swamp so violently that a peaceful life would be out of the question. Hunting Dementors one by one would only slightly disturb things. That could easily be attributed to a descendant of one of England's oldest wizarding families, famed for their fierce temper and Dark and battle magic. But wiping out Dementors across a vast area at once would be reason enough to find the culprit at any cost and preferably bury them.
And running through the forest with a bow is good physical exercise and mental rest.
So, what do I need for a bow…
"So," Daphne's voice sounded next to me. "You really are planning to become a healer?"
"Eavesdropping?" I turned to the dark haired girl sitting beside me.
"I became an unwilling witness to your conversation."
She placed a rather large tome on the table, opened it in the middle, and began reading. Reading, and remaining silent. All right.
"And?"
Daphne turned her head toward me, smiling.
"Then you will need to study Potions at a very, very decent level."
"Let us assume."
"And you will need access to the Restricted Section. Unless you want to wait until the end of Hogwarts and look for a mentor. And that will be very difficult with your background."
"Oh?"
"Do not take it the wrong way, but what can you offer in exchange for training?"
"Fair."
"If it works out, become Professor Snape's apprentice," Daphne concluded importantly.
"And what is your gain, Greengrass?"
"Aside from a proven partner?" She put on an innocent face that looked out of place.
"And am I a good partner?"
"Better than a nonexistent one," she lifted her nose proudly.
"I see. And you want me to become Snape's apprentice like you? You do not want to do Potions alone? And why Potions, by the way?"
Daphne looked at me like I was clinically stupid and graciously began explaining.
"Potions are fascinating, magnificent, incredible. Charms, spells, transfiguration, dark magic, all of that is dull and boring."
"Really?"
"As my father said, sooner or later you will come to realize that words, gestures, all these wand dances are empty. True magic is in our heads," Daphne tapped her temple.
"Interesting conclusions."
"You came to them yourself," Daphne clearly wanted to poke me with a finger but changed her mind. "Any magical manipulation without words is already a sign of understanding, conscious or not."
"You put it nicely," I smiled, and Daphne almost imperceptibly frowned.
"My father's words. He said that humanity is currently too stupid to realize even a tenth of its magical potential."
"And Potions?"
"Potions are different," Daphne brightened for a moment, then quickly returned her unemotional mask. "Imagine ingredients, preparation methods, order of addition, temperature, and other factors as wand movements, words, images, and formulas."
"Got it."
"Over time, with practice, a wizard can discard parts of spellcasting, leaving only the desired image and intent. With Potions, you cannot do that. With experience, you find better methods, small nuances and secrets. But you cannot discard ingredients or steps."
"I see. You want to work in something where mastery, experience, and a lot of effort matter?"
"Yes, but do not misunderstand," Daphne stared off to the side with a slight smile.
It was unexpectedly amusing to watch this girl carefully imitate emotionally reserved elders, perhaps her parents. For etiquette? Or something else? Among elves, for example, it was polite to have at least three masks: political, social, and for close circles. Who knows what quirks the local social financial elite have? And there is no doubt the Greengrass family belongs to that group.
"I am still amazed by my mother's graceful wandwork and my father's efficient, economical movements," she said, even waving her hand to demonstrate both. "But intellectually, I understand that no matter how beautiful the crutches are, they remain crutches."