Harry Potter Breaking The Chains

The next morning Harry decided to write a letter to Hermione before anything else. He had a lot of letters to write, so it was best to get them started right away. He crawled out of bed and plopped down onto the wobbly chair at his desk. Parchment, quill, and ink were soon on the desk, and Harry began writing.

Dear Hermione,

I'm doing as well as can be expected, which doesn't say very much. I was in rough shape for awhile, but I've been feeling a little better the last couple days. I've started doing some studying. It helps to keep my mind off of things. I'm eating as much as I ever do here now, which should still ensure that Mrs. Weasley will fuss over me next time she sees me anyway.

I hope everything goes alright with you and your parents. You'll have to tell them the truth sooner or later, so maybe now is the right time. Just let them know that you are a part of the Wizarding World now, and it is a part of you. Make them see that pulling you out of Hogwarts won't remove you from danger. It will only take away your tools to fight back and protect yourself. The best thing for you would be to continue to learn so that you can properly defend yourself should the need arise. I'm sure they'll come around. If you need any help or anything or think a letter from me might help, just say the words. I'd offer to come visit to help you talk to them, but I'm more or less trapped here at the moment.

Take care,

Harry

Harry sent Hedwig off with the letter, then turned to the door and walked out. He grabbed a quick breakfast much to his relatives' quiet dismay. The threat Moody and the others had made at the train station was still hanging thickly over their heads, and they were reluctant to openly cause Harry trouble. Instead they just ignored him, which suited Harry just fine.

After making his way back upstairs, Harry took a seat at his desk once again and turned his attention inward. It was time for him to start practicing wandless magic. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to start as he'd only ever been taught how to focus his magic through his wand. No one had ever even told him it was possible to purposely do magic without one.

Harry thought back to the night he was attacked by dementors and tried to figure out what he had done. All he could remember was scrambling around frantically in the darkness and desperately wishing he could just see what he was doing. He needed some light and had just uttered "lumos" without really thinking about it at the moment.

He thought back to the times he had performed accidental magic hoping that it could somehow lead him into what he needed to know to do wandless magic. All the times he had accidentally performed magic he had wanted something to happen, and it just did. It didn't always happen in the way that he would have wanted, but maybe that's just because he didn't have proper control over the magic.

One time he had wanted to get away from Dudley and his gang, and the next thing he knew he was on the roof of the school.

Another time he had wanted his Aunt Marge to shut up and get over her inflated ego. In hindsight, perhaps inflated wasn't the best choice of thoughts since that was exactly what happened to her as a result. She was inflated like a blimp and floated away.

The only difference he could discern was control. When he had cast lumos he had been in control of his magic. He had willed to perform a specific function and had gotten the desired results. The other times he had just willed something to happen to fix the problem without giving a specific solution, and he ended up with sporadic results. So in theory Harry just had to really want something to happen then will it to happen in a specific way without losing control.

With that thought in mind Harry set to work trying to levitate his quill without the aid of a wand.

An hour later and his quill had barely twitched, and it was debatable whether the cause of that was actually Harry's magic, the wind, or whether or not it was just a figment of Harry's imagination. Harry was getting frustrated. He began thinking about all he hoped to accomplish this summer and how much being able to use wandless magic would help. He wished his stupid quill would just get up and move already. And it did.

It shot up into the air and firmly lodged its tip in the ceiling with the feather hanging down. Harry had felt a surge go through him which he could only assume was his magic. He finally got the quill to move, but it wasn't exactly what he was hoping for. He only had minimal control over what had happened. He controlled the spell but not the intensity of it.

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