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Chapter 13 - In Other Words

November 5, 1996

"Thunder!" spake Harry Potter, and it was so. Mild thunder, just loud enough to startle, rumbled through the Room of Requirement.

"Now," he said, turning to let everyone see him. "Why did that work? Is'thunder' a magic word? No!" He answered his own question. "The magic is not in the words. What is the thunder spell word? Anyone?"

"Fulminis," came the answer from Hannah.

"Correct! And what does the word 'fulminis' mean?" Again, he continued without pausing long enough for anyone to feel uncomfortable, to to feel superior. "It means 'thunder'. Anybody here think Latin is a magical language?"

Harry looked around the room, as if truly wanting to find out. "Of course not! It's no more magical than Finnish or Portuguese or English. You just saw me cast a spell with an English word. Is it because I'm special? Of course not. It's because I have learned that the words don't matter.

"Watch this," he said, turning away from the crowd again just a little. In the same voice that he'd used to say'thunder', he said, "Marzipan!" Immediately, mild thunder happened again -- just like the first time.

"Now," Harry said, "Don't get me wrong. I like a bit of marzipan as much as the next bloke!" There was nervous laughter when the thunder happened. Many had been expecting it. "But I was thinking of thunder when I said marzipan, and willed it to happen.

"Listen up, everybody." His voice switched back to deadly-serious-mode. "The word doesn't matter. The language doesn't matter. Magic isn't in the words. Only your will matters! Like this..." he turned away again. "Bunny slippers!" he shouted, and the golem on the stage exploded, showering the front few rows with sawdust. While they were still processing what they'd seen, he shouted again, "Fewmets!" and the golem was repaired.

"Hey, Neville, do you know the Latin for 'light'?" he asked.

"Sure, Harry; it's 'lumos'," answered the young man with a flourish, and his wand lit.

"Hey, Hermione, do you know the French word for 'light'?" he asked.

She laughed, seeing where he was going. "Sure, Harry; it's 'lumiere'," she answered, lighting her own wand.

"Lumiere!" said Harry with a laugh, and his wand lit. Some more students around him began to laugh. "German?"

"Licht!" came some more voices, showing more lights and laughter.

"Italian?"

"Luce!" said someone, and it was so.

"Portuguese?"

"Luz!" The answers were now almost unanimous, and in unison.

"Outstanding, everyone!" Harry shouted, clapping his hands. The whole group joined in, giving themselves and each other a round of congratulatory applause. It was a few moments before the lights were extinguished.

"Okay, folks. You obviously have the idea. What spell did they teach you to use for stopping the light? 'Nox', right? Now for something a little harder." He raised his eyebrow and held up his wand.

"Nox!"

But instead of going out, Harry's wand lit up just like before!

"Silencio!" he said, the thunder rolled through the room. "Let's see you all try it. Use whatever harmless spell you want, and any word you like."

The silliness erupted all around the room. Sparks, lights, thunder, and combinations of the above were happening all over, in no particular order, while gleeful shouts of completely unrelated words rang out...

"Colin!" "Matchbox!" "Knickers!" "Boogers!"

...until the laughter was too strong to keep going.

Hermione watched Harry; watched him like a hawk. He was walking around the room with the aid of his staff. Ostensibly checking to see if anybody needed help, but something wasn't quite adding up. Then it occurred to her: only his mouth was smiling. His eyes were darting everywhere, evaluating, checking, watching. While his body acted the part of a jokester, his mind and eyes were scoping out the perimeter. Even laughing, Harry wasn't relaxed. He was busy teaching.

"Okay, everybody," he said, clapping his hands loudly. "May I have your attention? We're going to try to do one more thing before we go. Everyone?" He waited until he had their attention. "Everybody ready? Good." He absently conjured a stout stone obelisk on the dais. "When I count to three, I want you all to cast a tickle jinx at this stone. That's right," he nodded at their mumbled doubts. "Just a tickle charm, all at the same time. The word is 'Rictusempra', but you can use any word you want. Ready? One... two... three!"

The group shouted on three, pointing at the stone obelisk and casting their favorite tickling charm. Over a hundred students. Then something happened that almost none of them expected.

The huge black stone melted.

"That is strength!" announced Harry, raising a fist. "That is power!" He waited for a few seconds. "What do you think would happen if we'd all cast the cutting curse? Or the blasting curse? Think about that tonight. Put your wands and heads together, and there is nothing that can stand in your way. This is something the Death Eaters will never understand, if they live to be a thousand years old. All they had to do to take over the world was to unite. They would have been the only united magical force on the planet. But that's not what they want. They each want to show off, to swagger around in their arrogance; as if each one of them is a little tin Voldy.

"If you don't learn anything else the whole time you're at Hogwarts, learn this," he said, and the room got quiet. "If there is such a thing as the 'big man on campus', it isn't any one of those arse-holes." He turned, slowly making eye contact with anyone within range, so each one could see just how serious he was.

"Dobby?" he called.

"Everything is ready, Master Harry sir," answered the elf, milliseconds after appearing at his elbow.

"Do it." Tables of refreshments appeared immediately. "That's all for today, folks. Thanks for coming. Eat up, everybody. See you all back here on Thursday?"

The class broke up. Oh, no one called it aclass (at least not aloud), but a class is what it was, no matter what anyone else chose to call it. With no desks and no chalkboards and no textbooks, but there wasn't a single person in the room who didn't understand that they were there to learn, and learn hard. Harry was the most effective teacher any of them had ever known, and the most fun.

He was a natural teacher. While McGonagall taught by discipline; Harry taught by allowing them to relax. Snape taught by intimidation and prejudice; Harry taught by making people feel included. Flitwick taught by lecture; Harry taught by demonstration. Lipharvest taught by trying to be one of them; Harry taught by showing them who /they/should try to be.

Which was why Professor Lipharvest had taken to attending his classes. She had learned more about magical theory in the month since Harry had been back at school than her entire seventh year at school. She normally started each session at the back of the crowd, trying to stay unnoticed and let the kids have fun. But several times, she had discovered herself having moved closer to the front without knowing it; wanting to be part of the wonderful thing that was going on in the Room of Requirement.

She also had to be honest with herself and admit that she was attracted to Harry. Harry had completely removed the geas, and had restored the patch of her memory that Dumbledore had tampered with, so there were no magical forces at work here -- other than the normal, human magic that happens every day. The fact that he had helped her first, without question, and had vehemently shied away from the idea of taking advantage of her vulnerable state... The fact that he had the respect and admiration of everyone in this room... The fact that his green eyes were so, so...

She sighed. He was legally an adult, had amind more mature than any 'adult' she knew, and was certainly built like an adult. But he was still a student under her care. There was no way in heaven and earth that she was going to go after him now. The world would think she was still under the compulsion, and would probably forgive her, but she would never have been able to forgive herself.

She could see, as well, that she would be in competition with about a hundred and fifty other girls. She grinned wryly; if Harry ever let down his guard, he'd end up with a harem before he could say'Boy-who-lived'.