The Greatest Kind of Magic

5. Rogue Magic

Liam did not have any trouble finishing his potion ingredients for that day. When he revised them before going to bed, he thought happily that the task was not nearly as difficult as it appeared, and he would easily know the entire glossary by the next Monday.

He had not counted, however, on having to do homework for other subjects. In the next morning's Defence class, Tonks asked them to write a short essay on what they believed was the difference between Light and Dark magic, to be handed in the next day. Under normal circumstances, Liam would have had no trouble with such an assignment, but his potions glossary was taking up most of his free time.

That was just the beginning of his troubles.

After Defence, Liam followed Harry, Ron and Hermione to their first Charms lesson of the year. Professor Flitwick greeted the students warmly and congratulated them on their outstanding O.W.L. results. He welcomed Liam to the class and questioned him about various spells.

The exchange did not go well. Liam had thought that he knew quite a lot. After all, he had spent much of his spare time during weekends and holidays learning spells with his mother. As it turned out, weekends and holidays were no substitute for full-time education.

"Look, I know I'm behind, but I can catch up," said Liam desperately when Flitwick suggested he take fifth-year charms instead.

Flitwick looked unconvinced. And by the end of the lesson, Liam knew that he was in way over his head. They were learning Conjuring Charms - creating objects out of thin air. The only thing Liam managed to conjure was a shower of sparks, which only stopped when Flitwick doused it with water from his own wand.

Transfiguration was even worse. They were supposed to transfigure their desks into Labradors. Hermione's ran around the room barking and wagging its tail; Harry's was somewhat stiff, but still recognisably canine; Ron's was still a desk, but at least it had grown fur.

Liam's desk caught fire. At the end of the double period, McGonagall was also suggesting that Liam drop back to fifth year. Once again, he promised desperately to catch up. To his dismay, McGonagall decided to hold him to his promise and handed him a heavy textbook, ordering him to read chapters three to seven and practice transfiguring smaller objects.

"And I'm telling you now, Grady, if you don't show signs of improvement, I will drop you back. You will learn more if you start at a level you can handle."

The only bright spot Liam had that day was when Snape gave him his grade for the previous day's potion: a surprising "Acceptable". Ron commented that it was the first time he had seen Snape give a fair mark to a Gryffindor. Snape overheard, and took away ten House points.

With all the extra homework, learning the potions glossary became increasingly difficult. As the week wore on, Liam found himself going to bed later and later, and waking up feeling exhausted. He did not go exploring the Hogwarts grounds as he'd planned; his violin never left his trunk. Even his books lay untouched as he struggled to complete all his homework. He became sullen and irritable, and he missed Stonewall desperately.

When the weekend arrived, the other students went off to practice Quidditch, or just to stroll through the grounds, enjoying the rare autumn sunshine. Liam, however, remained indoors, reciting the potions glossary to the paintings on the walls.

On Monday morning, he arrived in Potions with dark circles around his eyes, but his head full of Potion ingredients. He was tired, he was angry, but he was ready.

Snape didn't even glance at him. He simply told the class to open their textbooks on page forty and begin preparing the potion described there. Liam just sat there gaping at him. Surely he was going to test him, like he'd said?

"Grady, I told you to begin on the potion. Clearly, you weren't listening. Five points from Gryffindor."

"Sir... those potion ingredients. I learnt them."

"Are you expecting some kind of reward? You should have known them before you ever came to my class. Now, if you don't start on your potion right now, it will be another ten points from Gryffindor!"

Fuming, Liam began. His anger, and lack of sleep the previous week, however, made it impossible to concentrate. He kept on dropping ingredients, and while cutting up lacewig flies, his knife slipped and sliced his finger. "Damn it!" he yelled, dropping the knife.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for profanity in my class, Grady."

"Hey, Grady," sneered Malfoy beside him, "are all Muggles as clumsy as you? Or are you just retarded?"

It was the last straw. Liam turned to Malfoy, intending to punch his teeth through the back of his head, but before he could do so, he felt his anger turn into magic.

Malfoy's cauldron belched loudly.

Liam felt nauseous. "Oh, not good," he muttered, backing away from Malfoy's desk.

For a moment, Malfoy stared at him, perplexed. Then he looked into his cauldron.

The potion had grown legs. As Malfoy and Liam watched, transfixed, it slithered out of the cauldron and fell onto the desk with a wet thump. It raised itself on its wobbly legs and scuttled off the table. Pansy Parkinson shrieked and knocked over Goyle's cauldron in her haste to get away from the potion. The horrible, slimy thing reared up on its hind three legs (it had seven, altogether), and belched again. Then it turned to face Liam and leered.

"Oh, sweet Jesus, it has teeth," Liam said weakly.

Snape didn't waste any more time. He hastily pulled out his wand, pointed it at the potion and yelled, "Impedimenta!" The potion stopped dead. Its legs collapsed underneath it. Slowly, its form began to dissolve, until it was nothing but a murky puddle on the floor.

Snape looked hard at Liam, then turned to the class. "I must go see the Headmaster. Continue working on your potions. If there is any foolishness while I am gone, rest assured I will know about it. Grady, you come with me."

For the first time since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, Liam was scared. Not worried or nervous, but actually scared. He hadn't just let out a little bit of magic to get him out of a bad situation - he had slipped. He had not meant to use magic. His anger had burst out without him having any control over it whatsoever. He had not done something like this for years. He knew he was in deep trouble.

"It was you, wasn't it, Grady?" asked Snape in a surprisingly weary tone.

Liam saw no point in lying. "Yes. Sir. I didn't meant to, though!"

Snape shook his head. "Explain it to the Headmaster, Grady. I'm not interested."

They stopped in front of a large stone gargoyle. "Skiving Snackbox," Snape said.

The gargoyle moved aside and an opening appeared in the wall behind it. Liam followed Snape onto the moving spiral staircase.

When they entered Dumbledore's office, Snape didn't waste any time. "Professor Dumbledore. We've got a case of... rogue magic."

Dumbledore looked at Liam intently. His expression was grave.

"What happened, Severus?"

"A potion grew legs and teeth," Snape replied. "Last week there was an incident where a cauldron tipped over by itself, though I didn't realise what caused it at the time."

"That wasn't... rogue magic!" Liam protested. "I... did that on purpose." He knew the confession would get him into trouble, but somehow he felt it was important to let them know that he didn't often lose control.

"Liam, perhaps you'd better sit down. You may go, Severus."

Snape looked displeased, but he obeyed. When he was gone, Dumbledore studied Liam's face. Liam tried to match the stare, but it was no contest. Liam looked away.

"Professor," he said hesitantly, "I don't understand. Why is this such a big deal? I mean... I know I shouldn't have tipped Malfoy's cauldron, but that's not why I'm in trouble, is it?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Liam, rogue magic can be extremely dangerous. You may even think you have it under control, though what happened today proves that you don't, but even when you deliberately let it out, you have no control over what it actually does."

"Look, what is rogue magic, exactly?"

"Rogue magic is magic in its elemental form. It is magic, which is unbound by spell or wand. Because of this, it is completely random. Witches and wizards possess the ability to produce this magic. All magical children produce rogue magic in times of stress. At that age, they are not yet powerful enough to cause any serious damage. And once they start getting some proper magical training, the outbursts of rogue magic usually subside, as all their power is channelled trough a wand. Even what little magic you mother has taught you should have been enough to stop you making things explode."

"But it wasn't."

"No. It wasn't."

"Why?"

"Ahh, that's a good question. There are many possible reasons, Liam. The main one, I suppose, is that you are quite powerful, so the small amount of controlled magic that you practiced wasn't a large enough outlet for your power. So whenever you are in a charged emotional state, it bursts out. Also there is the fact that you actually used it deliberately. It is like an itch - if you scratch it, it will only get worse. Liam, I must stress this upon you: rogue magic is extremely unpredictable and dangerous. Do not use it."

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, today. I just... slipped."

"Yes, and in order to prevent that from happening again, you must learn to keep your emotions under control. I know it is difficult, especially at your age, but you must try."

"It wasn't my fault. Snape..."

"Professor Snape, Liam."

"Professor Snape set me an impossible amount of homework. I've been really stressed out."

"Yes Liam, it is usually other people who make our lives stressful. It is up to you to learn to deal with it."

"How?" Liam felt his anger returning. Deal with it? That was so easy for this man to say! Try dealing with a new school, no music, a horrible teacher and that git Malfoy, all in one week.

"My suggestion to you," said Dumbledore calmly, "is that you find some way of releasing all your pent-up frustrations. I understand that you are a musician?"

Liam was surprised. He had not mentioned this to anybody except the students on the Hogwarts express. He wondered how the information had reached Dumbledore. "Yeah," he said. "But I could only bring my violin - all my other instruments need electricity."

"Well, I suggest that you play your violin whenever you get a chance. Musical ability is a wonderful thing - and extremely rare in a wizard. Especially a pure-blood."

Liam frowned. This was news to him. "What? Why?"

"Didn't you know? It is just the way of nature, Liam. I guess it is... the compromise we make. We get the ability to do magic. Muggles get the ability to play music, paint pictures, write poetry. Most wizards have no gift for the creative arts. I believe this is because art, in all its different forms, is in itself a form of magic. A different kind of magic, perhaps. A wizard's power goes into... making things happen. A Muggle's goes into art. Not all Muggles, of course - just like not all wizards are really all that good at magic. You, Liam, are one of the lucky ones that have a talent for both."

"You believe music is magic?" Liam was staring at the headmaster in amazement.

"Oh yes. Does it not have the power to move people? Does it not have the power to change the world?"

"I don't know," said Liam. "Does it? I'd like to believe that."

"Music can change how a person feels. And how a person feels can affect how they act. And that, Liam, is all it takes to change the world."

Liam was stunned. He had never, ever expected to hear those words here in the wizarding world - least of all for the Headmaster himself.

"I thought I was the only one who knew that," he said softly.

***

Liam lifted the violin out of its case with eager hands. Wondering how he could have forgotten about the one thing that always made him happy, he played a few notes and adjusted the tuning. Caressing the strings lovingly, he began to play.

He had not played, not even listened to music in over a week. Now, as the melody began seeping into the castle walls, it felt like the first sip of cool, clear water after days of wandering in the desert. All his stress, exhaustion, worries and fears seemed to drift away into the darkening sky. Only the music remained: for a moment, the world was made of sound. Liam stood at the centre of it, his bow flying over the strings, weaving every emotion that plagued his heart into the melody.

A red-haired girl was watching him from the open doorway.

Liam's bow slipped. With a startled, squealing sound, his top string broke, slicing his hand.

"Argh," he groaned, feeling his hand begin to sting.

"I'm sorry!" said Ginny. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll... here, I can fix that." She pulled out her wand.

Liam yelled out, "No, don't!" but it was too late.

"Reparo," said Ginny. The string snapped back into place, seamless and unbroken. However, when Liam ran his bow over it, no music came out - only a low, tuneless squeak.

"I'm sorry!" apologised Ginny again, this time sounding quite distraught.

Liam shook his head and held up the violin. For some reason, he was angry. "You see?" he said bitterly. "This is why I didn't want to be a wizard! You're all obsessed with magic, you think it's all there is to life. You want to fix everything with magic." He paused, fighting to get his frustration under control. "Sometimes magic isn't what it takes," he said finally.

Ginny turned around and walked off. Liam was left feeling worse than he had at any time since arriving at Hogwarts. He could replace the broken string easily enough, but the joy of music now seemed to be tainted, somehow. Feeling hollow and wretched, he replaced the violin in its case and stowed it away in his trunk. He didn't know when he'd play again.

***

Any feelings of optimism, which Liam had briefly entertained on his first day at Hogwarts had now disappeared entirely. Life at the wizarding school was swiftly becoming unbearable. The final blow to Liam's spirits came on Friday afternoon, when Professor McGonagall asked him to see her in her office after his last class for the day.

Liam had a pretty good idea of what the meeting would be about : try as he might, he had still not been able to transfigure his desk. After two weeks at Hogwarts, his Transfiguration work had shown no improvement whatsoever.

"Please sit down, Mr Grady," said McGonagall when Liam arrived. Liam sat, trying mentally to steel himself for what he knew was coming.

"Grady," said McGonagall in a sympathetic tone, "I know it hasn't been easy for you here."

"I read that stuff you gave me," he said, hoping against hope that she would see how hard he was working. "All those chapters. And I've been practicing. I know I can do it!"

McGonagall sighed. "Look, Grady, you are simply expecting too much of yourself. You cannot catch up on five years worth of work in two weeks! Transfiguration is a difficult subject, and determination alone will not help you learn a spell, which is so far above your level. How does that Muggle saying go? You must learn to walk before you learn to run. I have spoken to Professor Flitwick and he also thinks that you will not benefit from trying to master sixth-year spells when you haven't even done your O.W.L.'s."

Liam tried to remain calm, but to his horror he realised that he was on the verge of tears. Too much had gone wrong for him in the past two weeks; this was the final straw. He was forced to take a few steadying breaths before he could speak. "But Professor, I am trying really hard! I just don't know what else I can do!"

"Grady," said McGonagall in a surprisingly gentle tone, "I can see that you're trying. But your efforts will be more useful to you if you start at a lower level. Professor Flitwick and I both feel that you would benefit from studying magic at the fifth-year level."

"But I don't want to be dropped back!" Liam pleaded desperately. "I want to stay in sixth year!"

He wasn't even sure why it mattered so much to him. Perhaps it was because being dropped back would make him feel like a complete and utter failure. It would prove once and for all that he did not belong in this world. It would make his alienation complete.

"Let me finish, Grady, it isn't all as bad as you think. I have spoken to all your teachers. Professor Snape has grudgingly acknowledged that your potions work is adequate for a sixth-year. Defence Against the Dark Arts has been disrupted so much over the past five years that you are hardly worse off than anybody else. And of course, nobody doubts that you can do well in Muggle Studies. So you do not need to drop down to fifth year for those subjects. You will stay enrolled as a sixth year and remain in the sixth-year dormitory - you will simply take Transfiguration and Charms with the fifth-years. The fifth-year Gryffindors have Transfiguration when the sixth-years have Charms. The fifth-year Charms class, however, would overlap with your Muggle Studies, so you will have to take Charms with the Slytherins. Is that all clear?"

"I understand, Professor," said Liam weakly.

"In that case, you may go. Your new timetable starts on Monday. And cheer up, Mr Grady. It isn't all that bad."

Liam got up and quietly left the office. It was only then that McGonagall noticed that the potted plant on her windowsill, which had been strong and healthy that morning, was now wilted, its leaves drooping sadly over the edge of the pot.