The Girl Who Saw Tomorrow » Harry Potter

1.24 | The Evolution of Magic

This chapter is dedicated to isahogue and Starry_blue7 ❤️

-x-

"Expelliarmus!"

A shield appeared out of thin air with one swift movement and the disarming spell was deflected. The next second, Margaret was thrown off her feet once more, landing on her back with an 'oof' and her wand clattered a few feet away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blue light forming at the tip of the Elder Wand.

Her hand swiped through the air upwards, palm glowing scarlet, and the jet of water aimed at her hit the ceiling, scattered and fell back down like raindrops. In the split second she had, she reached out towards her wand and it zoomed back into her hand.

"Confringo! Protego!"

Despite her quick thinking, having learnt from the past thirty-seven times this had happened to her, the shield she had produced was not strong enough in her haste. She barely had time to support herself on her knees before another non-verbal knock-back jinx tore through the blasting spell she had sent and then collided with her shield that caused a reverberation of clang across the small room; the force of it so much that Margaret was thrown back again, this time against the wall.

The occupants of the portraits above stopped their failed attempt at feigning sleep and scurried off to other frames on the side to stay out of the way.

Margaret groaned as she slipped down the wall, and decided to stay there for a moment. Sighing deeply, she shot a reproachful look at Headmaster Dumbledore who was very casually twirling the Elder Wand between his long fingers and smiling absently.

"Did I mention... that... this was a terrible idea, Professor?" Margaret asks sarcastically in between small puffs of breath.

"Hmm? Oh, no. See, you have learnt new defences and offences, have you not? I must say, that was a good deflecting technic" Dumbledore tells her kindly.

"Yes, but, sir... all I end up doing is bruising myself... and it's a little painful, y'know?"

Dumbledore chuckled, waving his wand swiftly to dry the water around the room, the result of his previous spell, then motioned towards his desk as he ascended the five uneven stairs up towards it narrowly missing the second slightly larger one. The number of times Margaret had crashed into those in the past two weeks, she was sure of their exact dimensions by now. Despite this, she hadn't, surprisingly, ended up in the hospital wing yet.

The circular office looked different from when she had first visited it. Space was cleared for duelling and the spindle-legged tables with small huffing and puffing silver instruments were gathered behind the large oaken desk. Fawkes the phoenix who usually perched on his sill next to the desk watched their duel with bright interest from the railing of the gallery to the far right.

"My intentions are not to physically injure you, Margaret," says the Headmaster as she stumbles up the stairs and takes a seat in front of him. He handed her a waterproof cloth with a fist-sized block of ice in it and she took it, holding it up behind her head and wincing slightly. "I only intend to help you direct your non-verbal, wandless magic more simply."

"I understand that Professor," Margaret answers, sighing, "but they won't show up if they know I'm not in immediate danger."

"They?" Dumbledore questions curiously.

"My powers."

"I'm sorry, Margaret, I assume I have misunderstood you. 'They' are a part of you. Our magic is not a separate entity from us," the Headmaster says but he did not sound too stern.