Harry lay on his four-poster bed in the Gryffindor first-year dormitory, the red velvet curtains drawn slightly to let in a sliver of moonlight. The day had been long and exhausting, his body heavy with fatigue, but his mind was anything but still. It buzzed with questions, theories, and plans, each thought tumbling over the next like waves crashing against a shore.
He thought first about his newest ability, "Look at Me, I See You". It was a game-changer. For the first time, he felt like he had a tool to navigate the overwhelming attention he’d been thrust into. He could finally see beneath the surface, and discern the intentions of those around him. The thought brought him a measure of calm, a small anchor in the storm of uncertainty.
But his mind didn’t stop there. It drifted back to the Sorting Ceremony, to the moment just before the Hat had been placed on his head. He had felt it then—a new ability trying to form, something related to shielding his mind. He had consciously stopped it, a feat he hadn’t known he was capable of until that moment. Now, as he lay in the quiet of the dormitory, he could still feel the faint nudge of that potential ability lingering in the back of his mind, like an unfinished sentence waiting to be spoken.
Harry’s brow furrowed as he considered the possibilities. He had always thought of his abilities as something that formed instinctively, responding to his immediate needs or desires. But what if he could shape them? What if he could specify the particulars of an ability before it fully formed? The idea was tantalizing. If he could create a mental shield, for example, one that not only protected his thoughts but also allowed him to selectively conceal them, it would be invaluable. It would give him control, something he had always craved.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the faint nudge in his mind. He imagined the ability to take shape, not as a blunt tool but as something precise and adaptable. He pictured a barrier around his thoughts, strong enough to keep out intruders but flexible enough to allow him to communicate when he chose to. He felt the nudge grow stronger as if responding to his intent, but he didn’t push it further. Not yet. He wanted to be sure. He wanted to test the limits of what he could do.
For now, though, exhaustion was winning the battle. His thoughts began to blur, the edges of his consciousness softening as sleep crept in.
And then, darkness. Harry’s breathing slowed, his body finally surrendering to the fatigue of the day. In the quiet of the dormitory, surrounded by the soft snores of his fellow Gryffindors, he slept—a small, determined boy with a mind full of questions and a heart full of resolve. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, and new mysteries to unravel. But for now, he rested, his dreams a quiet echo of the magic and possibilities that lay ahead.
The next morning, the Great Hall was alive with the chatter of students and the clatter of cutlery. Sunlight streamed through the enchanted ceiling, casting a warm glow over the long tables. Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, picking at his toast and eggs as Professor McGonagall made her way down the row, handing out schedules to the first-years. Harry took his schedule with a polite nod, scanning it quickly. Charms class was right after breakfast, followed by a free period.
Despite the constant attention from the other students—stares, whispers, and the occasional pointed finger—Harry resisted the urge to activate his Reduced Presence ability. It would have been easy to fade into the background, to make himself unnoticeable, but he couldn’t risk it. He had already used the ability once, during the welcoming feast, in a moment of desperation. The regret that followed had been sharp and immediate. His abilities were his most closely guarded secret, and using them too openly might draw unwanted scrutiny. For now, he had no choice but to endure the spotlight, no matter how uncomfortable it made him.
He was also tempted to use his new ability, "Look at Me, I See You". But he remembered the overwhelming flood of information he’d experienced during the welcoming feast. It had been like trying to drink from a firehose—names, thoughts, intentions, all rushing into his mind at once. He wasn’t ready to handle that again, not in such a public space. Instead, he focused on his breakfast and his plans for the day.
His thoughts drifted back to the ability that had almost formed during the Sorting Ceremony. The faint nudge in his mind was still there, a quiet reminder of the potential waiting to be unlocked. He needed more information, something to guide him in shaping his ability. That was why he wanted to visit the library. If he could find books on mind-related spells or charms—it might give him the insight he needed to create a mental shield tailored to his needs.
When Charms class began, Harry found himself enjoying it more than he’d expected. Professor Flitwick, the tiny Charms professor, stood on a stack of books to see over his desk, his enthusiasm infectious. He introduced them to the "Lumos" spell with such vigor that even the most hesitant students felt inspired to try. Harry watched as Hermione Granger, the bushy-haired girl from the train, lit her wand on her first attempt. She beamed with pride as Professor Flitwick awarded Gryffindor five points.
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Harry wasn’t far behind. After a few tries, he managed to produce a steady glow at the tip of his wand. Professor Flitwick praised him, and Harry felt a small surge of satisfaction. By the end of the class, nearly all the first-years had mastered the spell, and the room was filled with the soft light of dozens of wands.
As the class ended, Harry made a beeline for the library. He had already asked Percy for directions. Harry was halfway there when he noticed Hermione walking ahead of him, her arms full of books. She was clearly heading to the library as well.
An idea struck him. The corridor was empty except for the two of them, and Harry decided it was the perfect opportunity to test his new ability. He activated "Look at Me, I See You", and almost immediately, information began to appear in his mind. It was a surreal experience—one moment, there was nothing, and the next, he knew things about Hermione that he hadn’t before.
Her name, Hermione Granger, appeared first, followed by a few scattered details: she loved books, she was eager to learn, and she wanted to make friends. That was it. No hidden agendas, no ulterior motives, just a girl who was passionate about knowledge and a little lonely. Harry recalled the description of the ability: "The more obsessed someone is with you, the more information you gain about them." Hermione’s thoughts about him were minimal, almost nonexistent. She wasn’t a fan, and that was a relief.
"Good," Harry thought as he deactivated the ability. He quickened his pace, catching up to Hermione as they reached the library doors.
“Heading to the library too?” he asked, keeping his tone casual.
Hermione looked up, surprised but pleased. “Yes! I wanted to get a head start on our reading. There’s so much to learn here, and I don’t want to fall behind.”
Harry nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Mind if I join you? I’m looking for some books on… advanced magical theory.”
Hermione’s eyes lit up. “Of course! I’d love the company.”
Harry stepped into the Hogwarts library and immediately felt dwarfed by its sheer size. The library was vast, with towering shelves that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and leather bindings, and the only sounds were the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional creak of a wooden ladder being climbed. Sunlight filtered through high, arched windows, casting long beams of light across the rows of books. It was a place of quiet reverence, a sanctuary for knowledge. Harry had never seen anything like it.
Determined to make the most of his time, Harry approached the librarian, Madam Pince. She was a thin, stern-looking woman with sharp features and a no-nonsense demeanor. Her eyes narrowed slightly as he approached, but she listened patiently as he explained he was looking for books on advanced magical theory. She pointed him toward a section deep in the library, her voice low and precise. “Third aisle on the left, near the back. You’ll find what you’re looking for there.”
Hermione, meanwhile, had already disappeared into the stacks, her arms still laden with books. “I’m going to study potions before our class this afternoon,” she said, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “See you at lunch!”
Harry nodded and made his way to the section Madam Pince had indicated. The tables between the shelves were empty, and Harry felt a sense of relief. Being the center of attention was exhausting, and he hoped the hype around him would die down soon. For now, he was grateful for the solitude.
As he scanned the spines of the books, his eyes landed on one titled "Foundations of Advanced Magical Theory: An Introduction to the Disciplines of Magic". It seemed like exactly what he needed. As he reached out to pull it from the shelf, the book slid out on its own, floating gently into his hand. Harry blinked in surprise but quickly decided it was a convenient feature of the library. He made a mental note to ask Hermione or someone else about it later.
He settled into a corner of the table and opened the book, activating his "Superior Understanding" ability. The words seemed to leap off the page, their meanings unfolding in his mind with remarkable clarity. He skimmed through the chapters quickly, absorbing information on everything from Transfiguration to Arithmancy. Halfway through the book, he found what he was looking for: a brief mention of Occlumency, a discipline used to defend against mental intrusion. The description was sparse, but it was enough to confirm that such magic existed.
Harry frowned slightly. The book didn’t provide any practical information on how to learn Occlumency, and he suspected that more detailed texts were either rare or restricted. He flipped through a few more books in the section but found nothing else on the subject. It seemed that information on mind magic wasn’t readily available to students.
Undeterred, Harry approached Madam Pince again. “Excuse me,” he said politely, “do you have any books on Occlumency?”
The librarian raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze studying him. “Occlumency? That’s an unusual subject for a first-year. Why do you need books on it?”
Harry had anticipated the question. “I read about it in one of the books,” he said, keeping his tone calm and earnest. “The idea of someone intruding into my mind… it’s scary. I thought it would be good to learn how to protect myself.”
Madam Pince’s expression softened slightly, though her tone remained firm. “I see. Well, books on Occlumency are kept in the Restricted Section. You’ll need a permission slip from a teacher to access them.”
Harry nodded, thanking her before heading back to his table. He wasn’t surprised by the restriction, but it was a setback. He’d have to find a way to get a permission slip, preferably without drawing too much attention to himself. For now, he decided to focus on the book he had. Even if it didn’t contain everything he needed, it was a start.