Gilderoy Lockhart was a man that promoted camaraderie and kinship in a way that had never before seen in the History of Hogwarts, or at least in the History of Flynn's attendance. Never before had a Hogwarts professor inspired such a drive for collaboration, that entire houses came together to seek his approval.
That was to say, because it was quickly discovered that the content taught in Lockhart's lessons (or public masturbation sessions rather) were identical across every year, an anonymous Slytherin had gotten fed up with Lockhart's lessons enough that they had posted a board up in the common room where people were encouraged to share answers and notes on Lockhart's tests and assignments.
Flynn wasn't sure if the other houses had similar operations going on in their common rooms, but Flynn could spot a handful of incredibly annoyed older years doing their best to enchant Lockhart's books to vomit out the answers to Lockhart's questions whenever prompted, collaborating on the project out of a collective sense of shared spite.
Even Flynn, despite his ambivalence to the concept of house pride, had enough distaste for the flamboyant fraud that he had done the research necessary to answer four of the questions that were pasted on the Lockhart Board, before he felt like gouging his eyes out.
Unable to take the sight of the Lockhart Board anymore, Flynn stomped through the halls of Hogwarts to try and think of ways to forget the fact that this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was somehow even more of a fraud than the previous one. While the thought of finding an empty classroom to start blasting furniture with the knockback jinx appealed to him for a moment, he knew it wouldn't give him more than a few minutes of relief, so he headed towards a classroom that he hoped would be occupied instead.
Once he arrived in front of the door of a professor he actually respected, he knocked on the door, and was glad to hear a quiet, "Come on in" from inside.
Contrary to his worry that he would be an annoyance if he came into office hours, only four days into the school year, Flitwick's mouth split open into a wide smile at the sight of him.
"Ah, Mr. Fredericton. Come on in, come on in," Flitwick said, waving him over to his desk. "I was hoping I would see you soon."
Flynn narrowed his eyes immediately and took a half step backwards.
"That is, of course, because of the odd quirk to your spellcasting that we discovered a little before the Christmas break last year, when you demonstrated your first use of the wand-lighting charm, something that I had taken a personal interest to," Flitwick said, with a flat stare. "Nothing nefarious, I assure you."
Flynn nodded, accepting the explanation and stepping forward again.
Flitwick gave him another flat stare before coughing into his hand and continuing.
"Anyways," he said. "While I was unable to look too deeply into the subject during the school year, I had enough free time this summer to research the issue a little further. My search led me to some very interesting theories, and through my research, I was able to gain a greater understanding of magic as a whole, so I must thank you for that, Mr. Fredericton."
Flynn frowned.
"Thank me for what, exactly?" he asked.
"For your presence, I suppose," Flitwick said casually. "Now let's not waste any time. I've discovered a theory that might be relevant to your situation over the summer, and I've been dying to share them with you and see what you think about it."
Flynn's frown deepened.
"Why would you want my opinion?" Flynn asked, not understanding what the hell Flitwick was even talking about.
"Why would I not?" Flitwick asked back, with a chuckle. "From what I've seen, you're a very intelligent and driven young man. I would be foolish not to pick your mind for ideas. It's a common tactic I used in my own career as a student at Hogwarts. I was never a model student, so I relied on others to carry me forward."
Flynn raised an eyebrow at the claim.
"You're a professor," he said simply.
"I wasn't always one," Flitwick said, with a laugh. "Though I'd have to say that becoming one hasn't changed my studying habits much, if at all. I became a professor more through happenstance than anything else, and though I've been in this position for decades now, I'll admit that it's difficult for me to read through anything that doesn't involve duelling. Still, the education of the next generation was something I was entrusted with, so I suppose I have the responsibility to try my best."
"Duelling?" Flynn asked, the single word grabbing his attention for some reason.
"A wizarding sport," Flitwick said, waving his hand and trying to dismiss it with feigned nonchalance, like he was embarrassed to have brought it up. "But enough about that. I'd get too caught up trying to explain it, and I'm certain you're just as curious as I am about the peculiarities surrounding your magic to listen to an old man rant."
The answer to that was obvious, but Flynn was surprised by how curious he was about whatever duelling might be. Still, the prospect of understanding his magic better was enough to force him to nod.
"Yeah," Flynn said. "What have you got?"
Flynn wasn't sure if he imagined the brief look of disappointment he saw on Flitwick's face when he dropped the subject of duelling so easily, but even if he hadn't, the expression fell from Flitwick's face quickly.
Despite Flitwick's claims that he wasn't a stellar professor, Flynn had always thought that Flitwick's lessons were easy to follow. Even if he did tend to speak too "posh" for Flynn's tastes, Flitwick still managed to keep his lectures concise and to the point, making them easy to follow along and remember without much effort. Even when Flitwick talked about a more complex subject than his typical Charms classes, one that the professor was clearly less familiar with, it was still easy to follow along with his train of thought, regardless of how much it sounded like unstructured rambling.
According to Flitwick's research, some researchers claimed that magic could generally be divided into different categories in a wide variety of ways. For example, many modern practitioners tended to define spells as belonging to the category of Charms, Jinxes, or Hexes. There were many different definitions that one could give to different categories of spells, but one particular researcher that held Flitwick's interest, seemed to claim that there was only one way to categorise spells.
All spells could be divided into three distinct categories, depending on what they were designed to affect.
Creatures, Objects, and World.
Other than the fact that the author's leading theory was based around a rather unattractive acronym, whether it was created intentionally or not, Flitwick assumed that the main reason why this particular researcher's theories never gained much popularity was the fact that he was a horrible writer.
Flitwick admitted that the author's ramblings became increasingly more difficult to follow, as the majority of his research papers simply analysed common spells by placing them into one of the three major categories, but dividing them further into about ten different sub-categories each. Though interesting at first, Flitwick admitted that he might've simply dismissed the author completely if it weren't the last article that he had published.
The article claimed, with an almost whiny insistence, that the categorization of spells was NOT useless, and that it WAS important in understanding the application of magic as a whole, and after waffling about the subject for several pages, the author finally started to discuss the topic of specialisations.
It was well known in the wizarding world, that wizards could excel at a certain brand of spell, and be mediocre in another. Ultimately, it wasn't a new concept, but unlike many other articles that touched on the subject, the author didn't just reference famous human wizards when discussing these specialisations. Unlike many existing articles on the subject of why wizards could be more talented in some types of spells over others, this author didn't limit his explanations to wizards, but extended his theories to magical creatures as well.
According to the article, wizards didn't have specialisations because they didn't have any inherent limitations. Relative to the rest of the magical world, human wizards were jacks-of-all-trades when it came to magic, and to see what a true specialisation looked like, one would have to look to magical creatures.
House-elves, for example, were specialists in Creature and Object magic, with a sub-category specialisation in focus, kinesis, and translocation magic. A house-elf could effortlessly apparate themselves, and use levitation magic that would make even the most skilled wizard jealous, but they were incredibly limited in all other facets of magic.
In general, the author claimed that a large majority of magical creatures had a similar set of limitations, with only a few exceptions. This list of exceptions included phoenixes, dragons, unicorns and thestrals. With the exception of thestrals, the author claimed that the relative lack of specialisation was the exact reason why the parts of these three creatures were commonly used as the cores for wizards' wands.
Although the author continued to state immediately after that, following a similar logic, wand-makers should experiment with using human organs to create even more powerful wands, which probably explained why this was the last article he ever published, Flitwick admitted that everything that was said before that point had some merit to it.
Flitwick admitted that he was personally intrigued by the theories, due to his part-goblin ancestry, which could explain why he had so much trouble learning Charms, or Object and World spells with a subclass of modification, manipulation, and enhancement, as the author might put it.
"I hope I'm not being rude, Mr. Fredericton," Flitwick continued, coughing into his hand. "But are you possibly aware if either of your parents had any sort of magical blood in them? It could certainly explain why you are currently having a similar experience to myself during my schooling years, even if it may not explain the specific oddity you have with your wand."
Flynn glared at Flitwick, for the implied insult, but lost any heat behind it when he saw how Flitwick seemed more uncomfortable with the question than he was. Though he didn't lose his frown, he directed it away from Flitwick, giving a shrug to the empty air beside him.
"I never knew my parents," he said.
"I will admit I was already aware of that," Flitwick responded quickly. "I was simply asking in case you had any inkling of…" Flitwick trailed off, coughing into his fist and averting his eyes completely away from Flynn.
Flynn couldn't help but feel a sense of annoyance growing inside him as he watched the old professor fidget awkwardly on the spot.
"I have a troll-heartstring wand," Flynn offered.
"Of course!" Flitwick said, immediately jumping at the offered change in topic, before he seemed to process what Flynn said and raised his eyebrow in surprise. "A troll-heartstring wand, you say?"
Flynn shrugged, not willing to repeat himself pointlessly.
"A troll-heartstring wand," Flitwick repeated, murmuring to himself more than he was to Flynn. "I've never heard of such a thing. Would you be amenable to me inspecting it for a moment?"
Flynn couldn't stop himself from glaring at Flitwick in an almost automatic response at the idea of giving up one of his possessions, but before he could actually say or do anything in response, Flitwick raised his hands in surrender almost immediately.
"On second thought, forget I asked, Mr. Fredericton. It was just a passing curiosity, as I cannot claim to be knowledgeable in wandlore. I doubt I would learn anything even if I were to inspect your wand."
Flynn didn't drop his glare against Flitwick, but he did manage to notice the white-knuckled grip he had around his wand, still hidden in the pockets of his robes. Gingerly, with some effort, he managed to relax his grip around it, though he didn't let go of it completely.
There was a tense silence that hung in the room, though it didn't last long before Flitwick cut through it forcefully.
"Perhaps it would be better if I suggested an experiment the other way around," he said, with a strained smile and his hands still held in the air.
When Flynn refused to respond, Flitwick continued.
"Why don't you try using my wand instead?" Flitwick asked. "Holly, Unicorn hair, eleven and a half inches. She was rather surly when I first got her, but she's softened up over the years so I don't think she'll complain about someone else using her for a bit. Though it might be strange to use a wand you're not familiar with, maybe it could help us determine whether your unique brand of spellcasting is an effect of your wand, rather than yourself."
Flynn felt a twinge of annoyance passed through him at how casually Flitwick could offer him his wand. A small part of him couldn't help but feeling so embarrassed for being so protective of his own wand, even though he knew that Flitwick was the stupid one for offering up something so important to a mangy street rat like him without hesitation.
Still with his hand gripping his wand in his pockets Flynn reached out wordlessly with his free hand. Without hesitation, Flitwick reached into his own robes and slowly pulled out his wand and laid it gently in Flynn's palm with both hands.
"Now why don't we try the very same spell that sparked this entire… situation?" Flitwick asked. "A wand-lighting charm, if you would, please?"
Flynn glared at Flitwick, considering the idea of telling the Professor not to tell him what to do, but decided against it, directing his attention towards the new wand instead. He frowned when he realised how strange it felt.
Flitwick's wand was thinner and smoother than his own, and had an intricate series of spiralling designs carved into its handle, rather than the barebones design of Flynn's own wand, if one could even call it a design. It had a weight to it that couldn't be attributed to its mass, more of a sense of power rather than anything physical, but it still somehow felt… quiet.
Flynn felt a faint thrum travel through his other arm, the one that was still gripping his own wand in his pocket, and frowned when he realised why the new wand felt so strange. While the thrum of magic that coursed through him whenever he gripped his own wand wasn't anything new, the steady rhythm usually faded into the background of his mind, like a heartbeat.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Letting go of his own wand, the sensation of it in his hand commanding too much attention for him to focus on Flitwick's wand, the sudden absence of it felt like a void, one that the new wand couldn't fill.
"Mr. Fredericton?" Flitwick asked, drawing Flynn out of his focus. "If you would?"
Flynn glanced up from the wand to see Flitwick glancing nervously at his wand, his hands fidgeting by his side. When Flynn realised how hard he was gripping the wand, he immediately forced himself to relax, and Flitwick's tight expression relaxed almost immediately with it.
"Lumos," Flynn said quickly.
Flitwick made a quiet sound of surprise as a ball of light emerged from the wand, floating a few inches away from the tip.
"A bit unsteady, but a textbook display of the wand-lighting charm otherwise," Flitwick said. "With none of the oddities that you displayed previously. How curious."
Flynn barely paid attention to Flitwick's words as he frowned at the ball of light that floated in front of him, not completely certain as to why he felt so uncomfortable with it, but knowing for a fact that it felt wrong somehow.
Without a word, he cut off the flow of magic circulating within him, and the ball of dim light faded from existence. He wordlessly thrusted Flitwick's wand back at him, waiting until the professor took it back before taking his own wand out of his pocket and holding it up in the air.
Almost immediately, Flynn felt a sense of comfort and familiarity wash over him as a thrum of magic echoed through him and his magic started to flow within him, flowing freely between his body and his wand.
"Lumos," he said, and immediately, his magic responded, coalescing in the tip of his wand in the form of light, his wand working as a part of him, not simply as a tool that he was using to translate his magic into the world.
"I suppose there was some merit to the theory that your wand is contributing to the oddities of your spellcasting," Flitwick mused, as he stared at Flynn's wand, squinting against the intensity of how bright the wood shone.
Flynn stared at the light, realising with some surprise that the magical light was somehow refusing to blind him, despite its intensity.
"I'm not gonna replace my wand," Flynn said.
"I wouldn't dare to dream of it," Flitwick said, with some surprise at the suggestion. "But it is important to identify the source of your oddities, if you hope to master them."
Flynn nodded at the professor.
The look of surprise that appeared on Flitwick's face a moment wasn't at all unwarranted, especially since it's more or less exactly how Flynn felt himself as he extended his hand to Flitwick, offering his now unlit wand towards the professor.
"Here," Flynn said, before he could take back the offer. "Take it."
"There's no need for that, Mr. Fredericton," Flitwick said. "As I said, it was nothing more than a passing curiosity on my part. It was a faux pas for me to suggest that you lend me your wand in the first place. A wizard should not be so easily parted from his wand."
Flynn glared at Flitwick, immediately annoyed at the professor's casual admittance that he'd been doing Flynn a favour by lending him his wand.
"Take it," Flynn growled, practically shoving his wand into Flitwick's face with a renewed intensity, not wanting to owe the professor an unpaid favour.
"Are you certain?" Flitwick said, leaning warily away from the wand, though that might've been out of a desire to not have his eye poked out, rather than him simply not wanting to take the wand.
"It was stupid of me to not give it to you in the first place," Flynn said, glowering at the professor for making him state what he now realised was obvious. "I should've trusted… that you wouldn't risk your job by stealing from someone like me."
Flitwick blinked a few times, before a slow smile started to appear on his face. Flitwick quickly suppressed it when Flynn frowned at him, but while his mouth fell into a flat line, the sparkle in his eyes was still present.
Flynn didn't comment on it, and Flitwick responded to his silence by nodding and extending both of his hands forward, with his palms facing up.
Though a small part of him felt a sudden twinge of anxiety at the idea of parting with his wand for the first time since he'd gotten it, he wasn't about to go back on his word either. Carefully, he placed his wand in Flitwick's hand, almost taking it back with Flitwick's fingers slowly wrapped around it, but eventually he let go.
Aside from holding the wand in a gentle grip, there was a momentary silence as Flitwick simply stared down at the wand. Flynn suddenly grew nervous at the professor's inspection, especially when a look of steady confusion grew in his expression.
"Mr. Fredericton," Flitwick said slowly and quietly, frozen in place like he was afraid of something happening if he made any sudden movements. "Is your wand normally this… warm?"
Though Flynn didn't quite understand what Flitwick was talking about at first, he wondered if Flitwick had a point. While he didn't have much to compare it to, only handling a few wands for less than a few seconds in Ollivanders's shop, Flitwick's wand had felt oddly cold in comparison, and while he wouldn't describe his wand as being "warm" exactly, it did match his own body temperature perfectly, adding to the feeling that it was an extension of himself, rather than a simple tool.
Flynn shrugged, though he wasn't sure if Flitwick noticed.
"Ollivanders did mention that my wand might have some life in it, whatever that means," Flynn said, with another shrug.
Flitwick stared at the wand for a long moment before holding it out for Flynn to take it back.
"How interesting," Flitwick said, when Flynn grabbed his wand back and stowed it back in his pocket. "You are quite the intriguing child, Mr. Fredericton."
Flynn shrugged, not knowing how else to respond.
- - - - -
When Snape asked Flynn to stay behind after Potions, the first class of the day, Flynn hadn't known what to expect. When Snape walked into his office, and brought out a large cauldron with a dull orange liquid bubbling inside of it, instructing Flynn to stir it slowly, counter clockwise, making one full rotation with the stirrer every four seconds, Flynn still had no idea what was going on, but followed the instructions dutifully.
Though Snape had no comments on the way that Flynn was stirring the potion, meaning that he was satisfied, he started to speak regardless.
"That there is a flesh-restoring potion," Snape explained. "It needs to be stirred for another ten minutes without pause for it to be fully realised, and once it is bottled, you will deliver it to Groundskeeper Hagrid. It seems like the buffoon of a man managed to not only purchase a bottle of highly volatile flesh-melting ointment, thinking it was flesh-eating slug repellent, but also managed to get a significant dose of it on his hands. His bare hands, mind you."
"I'll be missing out on my next class," Flynn said, though he had no complaint behind his words. The second class of the day was with Lockhart.
"I shall write you a note," Snape said. "Unless you feel that doing manual labour for your head of house is beneath you."
Flynn glared at Snape, who sneered back at him, before returning his attention to his potion.
As Flynn continued to count in his head, timing his stirring as best as he could to one rotation every four seconds, he was surprised when Snape broke the silence with a cough.
"Speaking of classes," Snape said. "I will be asking you a few questions. I expect you to answer truthfully."
Flynn glanced up at Snape, but returned his attention to his cauldron, still counting in his head.
"Sure," Flynn grunted.
There was a short pause, with Snape possibly waiting for a more eloquent answer, before he seemed to decide it was enough.
"Now that the Slytherins share their Potions classes with the Hufflepuff students for your second year," Snape said dryly. "It seems that you were quick to abandon your previous partner in Mr. Zabini, and have instead chosen to collaborate with Ms. Moon."
Though it was more of a statement than a question, there wasn't much reading between the lines that needed to be done. Still, Flynn glared up at Snape.
"Is that a problem?" he asked.
"That depends on your reasoning," Snape responded, glaring down at Flynn with a mirrored intensity. "I do not tolerate laziness in my classes, Mr. Fredericton, and I will especially not tolerate a student of my house partnering up with a semi-competent potions student from another house with the intention of riding on their coattails."
Flynn blinked up at Snape, losing his glare in his confusion for a moment.
Snape frowned and pointed down at the cauldron, making Flynn glance down to see the orange hue of the potion slowly fading into a dull grey. Restarting the count in his head, he focused on stirring the potion at a steady pace until it returned to a more acceptable colour.
"I ain't trying to get carried," Flynn grunted, not taking his eyes off the potion as he gave his answer.
"Then why, pray tell, have you changed partners?" Snape asked.
"Because she'll hunt me down and annoy the crap out of me if I don't," Flynn grumbled. "If you want to force her to partner up with someone else, be my guest. You'll be doing me a favour."
There was a short silence before Snape spoke again, his sneer so sharp that Flynn could hear it in his voice, even without looking up.
"I do not do students 'favours' Mr. Fredericton," Snape said. "I will be taking five points from my own house for your use of language, and I expect you to continue partnering with Ms. Moon for your cheek. In addition, I expect you to take charge of your partnership, to prove to me that you are not slacking off. Your performance in potions was middling at best last year, Mr. Fredericton, but not exceptional enough that I can give you a free pass this year. Perhaps you should consult some supplementary readings to ensure that you don't disappoint me entirely."
A wave of annoyance ran through him at the suggestion, and confident that he had revived the potion enough to take his eyes off it for a moment, looked up to glare at Snape.
"It's not my fucking fault that reading a book can't make me a good at potions," Flynn snapped. "I've read A Theory of Potions twice already. Fat load of shit it did for me."
Snape narrowed his eyes at Flynn, seemingly searching for any hint of a lie in his eyes, but after a moment, Snape clicked his tongue and pointed his finger at Flynn's stirrer. When Flynn felt the utensil resisting his hand, he let go and watched the stirrer swirl around in the potion at a steady pace, rejuvenating the greyish hue into a brighter orange almost immediately.
"I suppose your written work is more than adequate," Snape said, with an annoyed sigh. "Perhaps an understanding of theory would have diminishing returns if your main problem is your lack of everything else that goes into crafting potions."
Flynn scowled in response to the casual insult, but Snape paid him no mind as he continued to stir the potion with his finger. After a moment of relative silence, he drew out his wand from his robes and waved it, summoning two bottles from a nearby cupboard.
"Potion crafting requires precision, finesse, and intuition, to a degree that cannot be achieved so effortlessly, bar for the exceptionally gifted," Snape said, as he gestured with his hands and lifted the cauldron into the air.
"So you're saying I should practise more," Flynn said, frowning at the generic advice.
"That depends entirely on what you mean by practise," Snape scoffed, tipping the cauldron over and pouring it into one of the floating bottles in a steady stream. "I would not dare to trust a second-year student to practise the art of potion-making unsupervised, and I am far too busy to watch over you. Perhaps a student of your standing would benefit from learning these skills elsewhere and translating them over, instead of making a mockery of the art of potion crafting directly."
"Oh yeah?" Flynn asked. "And how exactly would I do that?"
Snape sneered in response.
"There are many ignorant people in this world who compare the art of potion crafting to that of cooking, and while it is an insult to suggest that the menial work of a house-elf could ever compare to that of a potions-master in terms of importance, I suppose there are some parallels to the specific skills that are involved in the mastery of both, with a difference in the scale of importance of course."
Flynn frowned at Snape, but before he could say anything, Snape waved his hand and wand simultaneously, tilting the cauldron back up and summoning a cork to stopper the bottle. Waving his wand again, he summoned a large container of clear liquid and poured a small amount into the second empty bottle, before putting a cork in that one too.
Snape grabbed both bottles out of the air and held them out towards Flynn.
"Deliver these to Hagrid immediately. The potion deteriorates quickly after it is formulated and sealing it only slows it down somewhat. The second bottle contains something that will help reduce the pain of the potions effects, but is optional to take, depending on Groundskeeper Hagrid's wants. And make sure to take this with you as well," Snape said, waving his wand one last time, a small quill on his desk scribbled something on a loose piece of parchment, before the parchment floated directly at Flynn.
"Flinstone Fredericton is excused from the entirety of his 2nd period class with Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, due to pre-existing responsibilities.
- Professor Severus Snape"
Flynn stared at the note, and decided not to point out the fact that delivering the potion to Hagrid would likely only take him fifteen minutes at most, and not the entire period. Glancing back up at Snape, he saw the potions master was already sitting down at his desk, reading through the materials that were scattered over it.
Flynn said nothing as he left the classroom, carrying Hagrid's potions with him, and Snape didn't acknowledge him leaving except to close the door behind Flynn as he left with a wave of his wand, to the chagrin of the seventh year students that were waiting outside of the classroom, still waiting to be let in for their second period class.