Aevumiter

11: Detention

Harry was actually pleased that he was heading to transfiguration. He missed McGonagall. She'd been rather crucial to helping him sort his life out after the war. He'd gotten used to her being around all the time, and then he'd had his mishap through time, and been away from Hogwarts for a few weeks. Now she was just out of reach.

Harry didn't know if that was torture or a mercy. If he was around her more, he'd have to act like a fifth year, not an eighth. He couldn't ask her advice like he used to. And damn it all, a McGonagall hug and advice over tea sounded like the best thing. 

Once class had started, McGonagall talked about the OWL for awhile. Then they started working on the vanishing spell.

Harry knew that it was a tricky spell, but he'd gotten it years ago. So he didn't understand why he was having trouble now. He could feel his magic going, but then it was like something was blocking it from actually forming into the spell.

It felt like there was a stopper on his magic, so that it couldn't leave the bottle- him. Any spells he did cast felt like they'd escaped a leaky cork. They were flimsy, and delayed. Harry hadn't even been this bad in first year. The same thing had happened in the Chamber of Secrets, when he'd cast lumos. 

Malfoy and Zabini were giving Harry looks out of the corner of their eyes, though Harry was too engrossed in his predicament to notice. Eventually McGonagall stopped in front of his desk.

"Mr. Potter? May I have a word with you?" She asked.

Harry nodded, and followed her out of the classroom and into the hall. It was only once she'd closed the door behind her that she spoke again to Harry.

"Are you doing alright? In slytherin?" She asked. Harry noticed the worry.

"No- er, I'm fine in slytherin, that's not my problem right now." Harry frowned.

"If you are sure you're fine. Then what is your problem?" McGonagall asked. "I noticed that your pronunciation and movement are precise, you aren't doing anything wrong."

Harry frowned. "That's what I don't understand. I think... Something's wrong with my magic. Even lumos is slow and awkward."

"Show me." She said, her gaze becoming analytical.

"Lumos." Harry cast, and after a beat, the light flickered into being. "Nox." It sputtered out.

McGonagall frowned. "Your patronus?"

"Expecto Patronum." Harry tried. For a moment, there was a tiniest wisp of silver. "I really thought that would go better." Harry admitted.

"Did this happen during the dementor attack?" She asked.

"No. I made a corporeal patronus. My stag." Harry said.

Her frown deepened. "How long has this been happening?"

"Since I got to Hogwarts." Harry said.

"Have you had any bursts of accidental magic?"

"A few.  At number twelve." Harry said quietly.

She nodded for a moment. "Normally I wouldn't condone this... But would you mind trying to do that? Something non- harmful."

Harry's eyes shot wide. "I... I guess..." Harry focused, and tried to remember what he'd felt when the Order was arguing. He felt a slight hum of magic just under his skin. He let it out. 

McGonagall went eerily still for a moment, and Harry thought he saw the wispy oil spill colored threads, but he wasn't sure. She took a deep breath. "When you cast a spell... Where do you feel the magic? In your body or your wand?"