HP: A Magical Journey

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“Walk with me, Mr. West.”

Quinn’s mind sharpened when he heard the headmaster. His paranoia regarding Albus Dumbledore was screaming at him that this wasn’t a simple social headmaster-student walk through the halls.

“Of course, headmaster,” said Quinn. Using an excuse to avoid the talk wasn’t going to work, and he himself was curious about what Dumbledore wanted to talk about.

Quinn fell into step beside Dumbledore, and both started to stroll through the hallways.

“Mr. West, you recall the Age line that I cast around the goblet of fire to keep the younger students out?” asked Dumbledore.

“I do; a fascinating ward. Fitting for putting down restrictions,” replied Quinn and glanced sideways towards the caster. “though it failed to keep Mr. Potter out of the tournament.”

“A most unfortunate event,” sighed Dumbledore, “Mr. Potter is way too young and inexperienced to be entering the Tri-wizard tournament.” He then looked at Quinn and asked, “From your words, it seems that you don’t think that Mr. Potter entered his name in the goblet.”

“Just as you said, headmaster, Mr. Potter is inexperienced — in magic — to find out a way to bypass the Age line placed by someone of your level,” stated Quinn, “I doubt any student, not of age, would have been able to break your Age line.”

“Ho,” smiled Dumbledore, “you think so? By chance, did you garner a close look at the ward?”

Quinn held back the impulse to stare up at Dumbledore. “I observed it from a distance. There were too many people at the boundary for me to observe it closely in comfort.”

“Is that so,” hummed the headmaster, “I’m sure you could have managed something. You command a substantial amount of respect from your peers in Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore was well aware of Quinn’s unique position in Hogwarts. It was different than any other student he had seen. Be it himself in his Hogwarts; he was well known and respected, but that only went a tad bit above what you could gain as the head boy; he wasn’t as well connected as Quinn (a fifth-year) was.

‘He even leaves behind Tom in the quantity of connections,’ thought Dumbledore. ‘No. . . not just quantity, he has better quality connections than Tom; unlike Tom, he is well connected to all houses and social groups.’

“I could have,” accepted Quinn with a nod, “but I didn’t see the point. If I ever want to see that Age line again, I can simply approach you with the request; after all, you’re the headmaster and technically a professor of Hogwarts.”

“That’s true,” beamed Dumbledore, “I see that as the last time, you still don’t consider me a teaching faculty of Hogwarts. . .” Students of Hogwarts addressed Dumbledore as a professor, but not Quinn; he consistently used headmaster. “Maybe I should pick up the fifth year transfiguration class for Ravenclaw students from Professor McGonagall so that you will call me professor.”

Quinn laughed before replying, “I would prefer that you start next year, headmaster. I would rather have you restart the Introduction to Alchemy class in the sixth year and Alchemy Essentials for seventh-year students. No use teaching something that Professor McGonagall can teach second to none.”

“If you can gather enough students, I will restart it again, Mr. West,” said Dumbledore, “I can’t restart the class if there aren’t sufficient interested students, and unfortunately, you alone don’t fill that quota.”

“I tried to recruit and convince the more clever minds in Ravenclaw to learn Alchemy, but unfortunately, Alchemy isn’t popular among students,” sighed Quinn, “such a waste, isn’t it? With you here, it’s a golden opportunity to learn.”

“Planning for the next two years already, Mr. West? It’s only the start of your fifth year.”

“Hogwarts is a seven-year program, headmaster,” responded Quinn, “for me, it’s not ‘only’ the start of the fifth year but ‘already’ the fifth year with only two years left. I need to make most of my remaining time here.”

He still had major projects like duplication of books in Room of Requirments and the unsolved vaults remaining and only a little under three school years to complete.

“Only two years, you say,” nodded Dumbledore, “have you thought about doing an apprenticeship, Mr. West? At Hogwarts perchance.”

Quinn looked up at the taller man and questioned, “Apprenticeship at Hogwarts? Wasn’t that program closed ages ago? I’m sure it was closed by the time my grandfather entered Hogwarts.”

“You’re correct,” affirmed Dumbledore, “It was closed a couple decades before your grandfather entered Hogwarts; I think it was around the same time I graduated Hogwarts.” His blue eyes gazed at Quinn as he offered. “If you truly desire to stay at Hogwarts, I can offer you an Alchemy apprenticeship under me. . . well, I can offer you an apprenticeship under me in any subject other than Magioology and Divination.”

Quinn chuckled at the not-so-subtle brag from the aged and diverse magical. “I appreciate the offer, headmaster, but may I ask what prompted this?”

“A teacher’s desire, Mr. West,” answered Dumbledore. “You’re a gifted student of magic. Any teacher worth his salt wouldn’t miss a chance to take someone like you under their wing. Actually, I’m surprised that the Head of Houses hasn’t tried to offer you apprenticeships; we semi-joked about this matter in many of our faculty meetings.”

Dumbledore then laughed in addition, “Poppy would always look proud of herself when that topic comes. You’re essentially doing half an apprenticeship under her.”

The mention of his favorite faculty brought a smile to Quinn’s face. He had been making steady yet swift progress in his healing studies.

“I appreciate the offer, headmaster,” said Quinn smiling, “but if I do commit to an apprenticeship, my first one is already set in stone.”

“Oh? That piques my curiosity. Who is the master you have chosen, Mr. West?”

With a grin on his face and an impish delight in his eyes, Quinn revealed, “Alan D. Baddeley.”

Dumbledore almost faltered a step when he heard the name. It took an errant moment of silence before he spoke up. “. . . Alan D. Baddeley. . . Mr. West, are you talking about the mind magic specialist, Alan D. Baddeley and not someone else?”

“As expected, headmaster, you know of Mr. Alan. Yes, I am talking about the same Alan D. Baddeley.”

Dumbledore, of course, knew about Alan. How couldn’t he? The name was at the apex of mind magic. Alan D. Baddeley to mind magic was what Nicholas Flamel was to Alchemy. Both were considered legends in their respective fields. After a point in a magicals’ study of magic, most people tend to focus on one branch of magic. There were exceptions like Dumbledore and Voldemort, but most people stuck to one and some complementaries. But people like Alan D. Baddeley, who took one field of magic to the extreme, were mythically rare.

“Mr. West. . . how do you know Mr. Baddeley?”

“Hmm? Ah, he taught me everything I know,” replied Quinn and tapped a finger against his temple, and Dumbledore immediately understood that Quinn was talking about mind magic.

“He offered me an apprenticeship when our time together came to an end,” spoke Quinn fondly, “If and when I do start an apprenticeship, it will be a mind magic specialization and under Mr. Alan. . . but maybe after that, I will take your offer of an Alchemy apprenticeship, headmaster. I’m not one to waste an opportunity that fell in my lap.”

“. . . Ah! I see. Yes, yes,” replied Dumbledore, still a little surprised by the sudden nugget of information thrown at him. He looked at Quinn, specifically his head, and one thing was cemented in his mind; Quinn West’s mental defenses and faculties were solid. The child in front of him had been able to get an apprenticeship from Alan D. Baddeley; there was no doubt about the quality of Quinn’s occlumency.

“Speaking of mind magic, it seems that we have diverted from the topic I wanted to speak with you,” said Dumbledore filling the new revelations in his mind, “so before I forget, I want to continue our discussion.”

“You were talking about the Age line,” supplied Quinn.

“Yes, the Age line,” repeated Dumbledore and intently gazed at Quinn, “Mr. West, would you like to guess how Mr. Potter’s name was entered into the goblet?”

Quinn gathered his thoughts for a few seconds. “Well, from what I know about the Age line and the goblet of fire, the real submitter was clearly someone of age and used magic to confude the goblet of fire — while a powerful magical artifact, it still has some weak spots, and this one was its. Continuing onwards, the perpetrator clearly knew what they were doing. They used another school name so that Harry Potter would become a champion because, let’s be honest, right now, I will take Cedric Diggory over Harry Potter any time of the day.”

“Mr. West,” interrupted Dumbledore, “how do you know about Mr. Potter’s name slip being added under a fourth school? That wasn’t made public.”

“I’ve my sources, headmaster. I’m Quinn West, and a certain group of people really love me,” replied Quinn.

“I see, well I can imagine that,” said Dumbledore, not bothered. “Mr. West, it looks like you’re well-read on the goblet of fire; you’ve done your research.”

“Well, you can say that. . .” Even though it didn’t sound like it, Quinn had trailed at the end. The subtle gaze from Dumbledore wasn’t looking good to Quinn.

“Mr. West, you see, I had to remove the Age line when the goblet of fire was removed from the Great hall,” said Dumbledore, and Quinn knew where this was going, “and to my absolute surprise, I came across another ward line concentric to my Age line. I, of course, investigated the unknown ward, and to my surprise, it was an ingenious design to destroy objects with specific names on. To my estimate, it could destroy a thick piece of leather or a thin slab of brittle stone when triggered.”

Quinn showed absolutely no change in his expression.

‘It’s okay. I’m fine. Dumbledore has no proof. I made sure to add fail-safes.’ While he assured himself, another part of himself was berating himself for not moving more quickly to remove his prevention ward.

He went one level ahead and put on a confused expression on his face. “That’s indeed surprising, headmaster.”

“Yes, but the surprise doesn’t end here,” continued Dumbledore, “the surprise was the names that were tied to the wards. The names that the ward was supposed to target.”

‘It’s okay. It’s okay. It will be fine.’ Dumbledore was a master of his craft. While the situation was shocking, Dumbledore decoding his ward to the level where he could get names while frustrating wasn’t surprising. ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀ​ꪶ​

“I found multitudes of names,” said Dumbledore. “Names of students from the very first year to the very top at the seventh year. I found dozens and dozens of names tied to the ward.”

From his bright blue robes, Dumbledore retrieved a roll of parchment and handed it to Quinn.

“I’m hoping to find the one who drew the ward, and you’re the best person I know who would be able to help me with this small problem. Give your position in the school and the sheer amount of interaction you have with your fellow students; I was wondering if you could look at these names and tell me if you can see a pattern in them.”

Quinn wordlessly nodded and unrolled the parchment. Inside it was a list of names of Hogwarts students arranged by both house and year.

He gave it a read-over before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, headmaster, but I can’t see a pattern in this list of names. These really look to me as a random list of names.”

This was Quinn’s fail-safe. While planning about drawing the ward, Quinn had thought about the scenario if someone discovered the ward and reach the level that Dumbledore had reached.

He knew that the culprit would be too obvious if he just stuck with his and his friends’ names. Given that he was by far the most knowledgeable and adept at magic, he would be the prime suspect. To prevent that, Quinn planned a contingency; he added random names from all over Hogwarts to the ward so that anyone of those people’s name slips would be destroyed.

He knew that there were overwhelming chances that some of those people would try to enter their names inside, so he made sure to build in a discreet method of destruction. As long as the goblet of fire wasn’t confuded, only the ink of the names would be discreetly burned just before the goblet’s fire engulfed the slip. That along the goblet’s innate defenses would be enough to bar the listed people from entering. Only when the goblet was full-on confuded into complete activation mode did Quinn unleash the ward’s entire lightning and incinerating force, as that was the time where no chance of error could be allowed.

“Is that so. . .” sighed the headmaster.

“Headmaster, can I keep this? While I can’t see anything right now, I may be able to discern something if I give it more time,” offered Quinn as a good student.

“Of course, Mr. West. You can keep the parchment,” said Dumbledore, “If you do find something, please contact me. I truly want to meet the person who drew the ward. It’s quite an amazing application of runes, ward theory, and esoteric charms.”

“I will try my best,” said Quinn. Of course, he was going to do anything but that.

“Thank you would be of great help.”

“Now, headmaster, by your leave, I would like to part here.”

“Of course, of course. I’m sure you’re busy.”

With Dumbledore’s permission, Quinn slightly bowed his head and left with the parchment roll in his hand.

As he walked away, he let out a sigh of relief. This was again one of those situations where his reveal might not harm or put him at a disadvantage in any way, but Quinn still wished to remain anonymous.

‘Still, I didn’t expect him to offer me an apprenticeship,’ thought Quinn, ‘I wonder if he really wants to teach me or is it just because of my background — or maybe it’s both.’

He looked back at Dumbledore and saw the headmaster with his back turned back to him. ‘Maybe I will take him up on that offer.’

. . .

But Quinn West didn’t know that he had missed something that, if he had seen, would have been of utmost importance to him.

Albus Dumbledore, with his posterior, turned to Quinn, took out a miniature glass vial from his robes — holding it in between his index finger and thumb, Dumbledore stared at the contents.

Inside the glass vial rested a tiny mound of pinkish-red chalk dust, which glowed, and as Quinn walked away from Dumbledore, the glow of the chalkdust weakened until Quinn had gone out of sight and the chalkdust had stopped glowing.

“As I thought.”

The smile on Dumbledore’s face was a sight to behold.

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– (Scene Break) –

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The day of the first task was moving closing closer, and it had already been ten days since Quinn had started teaching his three temporary students, with one of them being the fourth champion.

“Why are we doing this?!”

Quinn looked up from a list of accounting statements towards the three people (Harry, Ivy, and Hermione) who currently had strained expressions on their faces.

“It’s a simple exercise to build that spell’s strength,” answered Quinn, “it’s a little straining, but Harry doesn’t have time, and we need to speed things up.”

He gazed at Hermione, who had asked the question, and continued, “It turns out that you two tagging along was the right decision.”

Currently, the three Gryffindors were locked in deadlock, standing in a triangular position. They had a heavy metal ball in between them, which had three handles. The metal ball was floating in the air, with a red-orange cord of light wrapped around each handle.

The cord of lights was from one of Quinn’s all-time favorite spells: Carpe Retractum. All three were pulling on the metal ball, struggling to keep it in the air while trying their best to pull the metal ball towards them.

“So you’re just going to sit there doing nothing?!” asked Ivy, groaning against her brother and best friend.

“I’m not doing nothing,” replied Quinn flipping a page of the ledger, “I’m a busy person who turns out to be an innovative teacher. If you tried to struggle against me, it would’ve been trying to pull a building, and that’s not fun, is it?”

“And you think this is fun?!” said Harry, his voice straining. “Let me tell you! This isn’t fun!”

“Never said it was supposed to be fun . . . for you,” spoke Quinn, “it wouldn’t have been fun for me.”

“Are you sure this is going to help me?” asked Harry.

“Yeah,” responded Quinn, “the egg will be much lighter than this, so if you can work with this, you would have an easy time that. Believe me, you will thank me for that ease when you have a dragon on your tail. How about this — you’re welcome, you can thank me later.”

The three struggled with each other. Harry Potter was the most magically strong of the three, but his efficiency and casting skill were the least. Hermione Granger was the weakest of the trio magically, but her efficiency and casting were the greatest, keeping her in the fighting. Ivy Potter was the balanced one of the trio; she was magically stronger than Hermione while more skilled than Harry, as such she was able to keep herself in the running.

“Yeah, keep it up~,” said Quinn, “You’re doing great!”

” ” “You aren’t even looking!” ” “

Quinn simply chuckled in response.

He looked at the clear blue sky and smiled.

The first task of the Tri-wizard tournament was on the horizon.

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Quinn West – MC – I got away~.

Albus Dumbledore – Headmaster – No, you didn’t.

Golden Trio – Sub-group of Golden Squad – “Ugh!”

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