After a very brief, and frankly baffling encounter with Tonks, I found myself once again in Scotland.
Hogwarts.
A place of learning, wonder, and, at present, deeply uncooperative staircases.
I stood at the base of one such staircase, tapping my foot as it very deliberately refused to align itself with the corridor I needed.
"…You are doing this on purpose," I informed it.
The staircase did not respond, naturally.
I sighed, and with a small tap of my staff, lifted myself off the ground.
Levitating past the offending structure with all the dignity the situation deserved, I glided neatly to the opposite landing.
"Problem solved," I muttered.
There are, I find, very few obstacles that cannot be overcome with a combination of talent and refusal to be inconvenienced.
A short walk later, I arrived at the abandoned classroom adjacent to the Headmaster's office on the seventh floor.
The door opened smoothly at my touch.
And, just as expected, he was already there.
Albus Dumbledore sat comfortably in a conjured armchair, a book resting lightly in his hands, as though he had been waiting not minutes, but hours.
Which, knowing him, he very well might have been, if only to escape paperwork.
He looked up as I entered, eyes twinkling behind those half-moon spectacles.
"Gilderoy," he said warmly, "I see you made it in time. Were the stairs giving you trouble?"
I closed the door behind me with a soft click and rolled my eyes.
"That was your doing, wasn't it?"
His smile widened, entirely too innocent.
"I don't know what you mean," he said. "It was merely a guess."
"Of course it was."
I crossed the room, shaking my head.
"On another note," he continued lightly, "if you keep giving Madam Umbridge such… spirited opposition, I fear it will not be long before she attempts something regrettable."
I shrugged.
"What can I do?" I said. "She humiliates herself. I simply provide the opportunity."
I suddenly paused, a thought occurring to me.
"…Wait a moment."
I turned back to him, narrowing my eyes slightly.
"You were not present," I said. "How could you possibly…"
I sighed.
"Of course," I muttered. "You have eyes everywhere."
Dumbledore said nothing, but the faint sparkle in his eyes was answer enough.
"Yes," I said dryly, "very subtle."
He closed his book, and both it and the armchair vanished without so much as a whisper of magic.
"Now then," he said, rising smoothly to his feet, "shall we begin?"
I straightened instinctively, my attention sharpening.
Despite everything, one does not take lessons from Albus Dumbledore lightly.
"Today," he said, "we will focus on wards."
I blinked.
"Wards?"
I gestured vaguely.
"We have already covered those. Extensively, I might add. I have mastered everything you have taught on the subject."
He smiled knowingly.
"And can you use them in a fight?" he asked.
I tilted my head.
"That should not be possible," I said. "Only a select few wards can be cast quickly enough to be of practical use. Most require preparation, structure, time…"
"Indeed," he said, spreading his hands slightly, "that would be true, under normal circumstances."
A pause.
"Fortunately, magic is rarely limited to normal circumstances."
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
"I sense a demonstration approaching."
"A lesson," he corrected gently.
"Of course."
He stepped lightly across the room, his movements unhurried.
"Transfiguration," he began, "is a far more versatile discipline than most give it credit for."
He raised his wand.
"With sufficient skill, one can create temporary ward anchors in mere seconds."
"Oh," I said.
That…
That was interesting.
I had not considered that approach.
Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, as though acknowledging the moment.
"Transmutation, on the other hand," he continued, "allows for the creation of more permanent structures. More stable. More powerful."
He glanced at me.
"Though, as you are aware, it typically requires a properly prepared transmutation circle."
"Time-consuming," I said.
"Yes."
A faint smile.
"Unless, of course, one possesses a Philosopher's Stone."
I blinked.
"…I beg your pardon?"
He chuckled softly.
"The Stone can be used to bypass many of the usual limitations," he said. "Allowing for near-instantaneous transmutation with remarkably stable results."
I stared at him.
"Why," I asked slowly, "did Nick not tell me this?"
Dumbledore's smile turned just slightly amused.
"That," he said, "sounds precisely like something Nicolas would do."
I sighed. "He probably assumed it was something so basic that I already knew."
"Quite."
I shook my head.
"Unbelievable."
"Shall we continue?" he asked lightly.
"Yes," I said at once. "of course."
He lifted his wand.
There was no flourish or incantation.
Just a simple, almost absent-minded motion.
And suddenly, the room changed.
More than twenty stones appeared in the air around us, each one settling gently onto the ground in a precise formation. They were smooth, dark, and etched with intricate runes that pulsed faintly with contained power.
I stepped forward, eyes narrowing as I examined them.
Recognition came quickly.
"…That is not a simple ward," I said.
"No," Dumbledore agreed.
"This is an advanced defensive array," I continued, circling the formation slowly. "Layered. Reinforced. It would take…"
I paused, calculating.
"Five hours to construct properly," I finished. "And at least five minutes for ten fully trained wizards to break through with brute force."
Dumbledore said nothing.
Which, again, was very telling.
I exhaled slowly.
"Impressive."
An understatement.
Of course, someone like Voldemort could likely dismantle it with a single, well-placed spell, but that was hardly the point.
The point was the efficiency and adaptability of possessing such a skill.
"This," I said, gesturing toward the stones, "is exceedingly useful."
"Yes," Dumbledore said simply.
I turned back to him, a spark of genuine excitement settling in.
"And you are going to teach me how to do it in seconds."
He smiled.
"I am going to show you how to begin."
I sighed.
"Modesty does not suit you."
"It has served me well so far."
"Debatable."
He chuckled.
"Very well," he said. "Let us start with something simpler."
With another small motion of his wand, one of the stones lifted from the ground, hovering between us.
"Focus," he said. "Not on the spell itself, but on the structure it creates."
I raised my staff, eyes fixed on the rune-carved surface, preparing to replicate it as best as I could.
I smiled.
"Yes," I murmured.
"This will do nicely."
…