Summary:
The Queen of Pentacles
Above the line sits an ancient castle that seemed to shine in the sunlight, next to a large lake and a forest that surrounds it. A woman with a stern face wearing a large witches hat and in red and gold robes stands before the castle, wand held aloft as a cat curls around one of her legs.
Notes:
Welcome back dear readers to another chapter of The Heir and The Champions, you might be asking, "How is he pumping all these chapters out so fast?!" The answer is simple, I'm on vacation and have nothing better to do.
Now, I'm not sure how long this chapter will be, but I know Harry isn't done with training just yet, and in the next Chapter is where we meet the Queen of Swords.
On with the show!
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Harry Potter, Chamber of Skye.
Harry Potter couldn't move, he couldn't twitch, it almost felt like he couldn't breathe, he felt locked in his own body only able to look at the girl sitting on a flat rock. She was young, looking around eight or nine, she was wearing a pure white dress and a bright red cloak that bright blonde hair fell from in ringlets, she sat on the rock with her legs crossed with one arm propped up on her knee with her chin resting in her hand, inspecting Harry with the blackest eyes he had ever seen. She looks at him for the longest time, her eyes trailing over his face, down his body with a frown on her face, looking as if she was undecided about something and wasn't very happy about it.
She sighs as she drops her hand, letting her head fall before she looks back up at him, "You're him, aren't you?" she asks, her voice as high as bells, "You have to be," she says softly before standing up and begins to pace in front of him, her hands fiddling with her cloak nervously as she does, "You have to be," she says more desperately.
She abruptly turns to Harry with a hard look in her eyes as she glares at him, "I order you to be him!" she yells, her voice echoing throughout the cavern as dirt and small stones kick up and away from her as power pulses from her, it crashes against Harry, but feels as if it dissipates before it could even take hold.
The girl sighs before squatting down, wrapping her arms around her knees to look at him with a sort of sad desperation in her black eyes, "You have to be, we've been waiting so long for you to show up, we've already tried and failed so many other times, we have to get it right this time, if we don't,..." she looks away, tears building in the corners of her eyes.
She quiet for a moment before wiping away the tears on the long white sleeves of her dress, "But you have to be, you were there when that idiot Cernunnos was freed, I just know it, you were with the Goddess who had the same eyes as him, you were born under Mars red glare when the Wixen were fighting each other, and you just walked out of that bitch, Scáthach's place," She says looking back at the Gate of Sky with a glare before standing up and walking slowly over to Harry.
"You have to be him," she whispers, reaching out to place her same ice-cold hands on his cheeks, "The one who will meet Death three times, you've met Scáthach, the foreign Goddess you were with was one too, Badb said she felt similar to,..." The young girl trails off with the sad look deepening in her eyes, "You have to be him, if this works, if you are the one, then this will be the third time and the prophecy will be completed and we'll rise again, all of us, the Long-Arm, the Great Druid King, The Unseen Queen, the King of the Mists, the Trí dé dána, all of us,..." the girl says with raw desperation in her voice as if she was a hair's breadth from pleading with Harry.
"They've been gone for far too long, and we've been alone for all that time, me and my sisters couldn't do anything to help our people, we weren't allowed to pick up the crown," The little girl tells him, "But if you're the one, then it won't be very long, She will rise again, you've seen her too haven't you, in dreams where you're the closest to her, the one with eyes like mine?" She asks, but Harry doesn't, can't answer, so the girl just frowns and sighs before stepping away from him, "You're the one, you have to be," she tells him with a determined look in her eyes before Harry feels a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.
"Mister Potter," a voice says, shaking him, "Harry, please, my boy, open your mouth," the voice urges him, and Harry does and the taste of treacle tart explodes across his tongue before he starts to chew before swallowing and a flood of strength fills his limbs as Harry groans as they throb a bit in pain.
"Atta boy, one more bite, Harry," the voice, Harry now realizing who it belongs to, says as Harry opens his mouth once more to take a bite of the Ambrosia being fed to him by the Headmaster. He chews the treacle-tasting divine food before once again swallowing, and the throb of pain dies down in his limbs, and a bit more energy fills him as Harry opens his eyes to the soft glow of wand light as the Headmaster is kneeling next to him.
Dumbledore breathes out a sigh of relief, "Good to see some color back in your cheeks, Mister Potter," the Headmaster says with a smile, "Do you need another bite, my boy?" the Headmaster asks.
Harry shakes his head, "Once is enough, twice is pushing it, three times you're ash," Harry repeats the words Phoebe had told him over the summer, "Any more and it might burn me up," he says as he tries to stand as Dumbledore stands up and offering him a hand and pulling Harry to his feet.
Harry leans forward, hands on his knees he takes a few deep breaths as he lets the Ambrosia take effect, "Thank you, Headmaster," he says looking up to the man with a weak smile.
"Think nothing of it, Harry," Dumbledore says with his own smile before letting the smile slowly fade as he turns to face the Gate of Sky, "I had returned from a meeting between the other schools and Mister Crouch and Mister Bagman about the tasks you and the other champions will soon take on when I saw the device that I use to monitor the wards I had set in the tunnel here had been tripped and came down to inspect who had made through it," He explains, before turning back to Harry, "I wasn't surprised that I had found you here, but you gave me quite the scare to find you in such a condition, I hope you don't mind that I had sent a house elf to collect some of the Ambrosia you keep in your trunk," The Headmaster asks, and Harry shakes his head.
"No," Harry says, "No, this kinda called for it," he says before taking a deep breath and standing straight again, he was still sore, but nothing he couldn't ignore, "It would probably be smart to give you some, you know, just in case," Harry says before limping over to the stupid robe and pulling off where it was hanging to pull it back on, "How, ah, how did y-you know a-about the, ah, Ambrosia?" Harry asks.
"The House Elves do routine scans of all the trunks that come into the school for harmful contents, cursed items, poisons, drugs, and the like," Dumbledore explains, "When they find something they inform the head of house of that student, while they did find it suspicious but not malicious that you had brought in odd food and drink they had informed Professor McGonagall, who had, in turn, told me," he says simply, "and I had a good guess of what they were, and told Professor McGonagall to kindly ignore it since it seemed harmless," Dumbledore says with a smile.
"Then h-how did the j-journal get into the school?" Harry asks, knowing Dumbledore would know what journal he spoke of.
"Ah!" Dumbledore says, his eyes sparkling with amusement, "That too had bothered me for many months after you had brought it before me, for no scans of young Ginerva's trunk showed anything dangerous or dark and the answer was so simple it had almost escaped me," He says with a shake of his head, "She simply carried it on her person, and for privacy reasons we do not scan students," he says with a chuckle.
Harry didn't see what was amusing about it, but then again, Dumbledore was a little mad.
"But Harry, since I have answered your question, Perhaps you can answer one of mine," Dumbledore asks, and Harry nods reflexively, "While I have some theories and conjecture, and we haven't had time to speak about it, I was hoping you could tell me what lies beyond this gate," He asks, as he folds his hands behind his back, his voice creeping with curiosity and, oddly enough, something akin to hope.
Harry looks between the Headmaster and the Gate of Skye, unsure of what to say at first, should he tell him about what lies beyond the gate? Scáthach had never told him not to talk about it, never warned against the notion of telling anyone, only bringing them through the gate. If one didn't have some form of divine protection the shadows would consume them, Harry had protection because of his blood and his mother's sacrifice in a high ritual.
"Death," Harry says, "It's not a place where mortals can go without some form of divine protection," Harry warns the Headmaster, who nods in return.
"Then allow me to be a bit clearer, my boy," Dumbledore says, "I am well aware of what happens to those foolish enough to let their own curiosity to get the better of them when dealing with the divine," he says, "I just wish to know what lies beyond without the intention of going there myself,"
Harry pauses for a moment, before nodding slowly, "It's a place called Dún Scáith, in the Land of-" but before Harry could finish, he watches the Headmaster's eyes go wide and cut him off.
"Shadows," Dumbledore whispers before his head snaps back to the gate, "So the legends are true," he whispers to himself in awe.
A quiet settles over the Chamber of Skye as Harry watches the Headmaster looking at the Gate of Skye with what seems like trepidation in his eyes, Harry shuffles a bit awkwardly in the quiet before the Headmaster finally speaks, "Do you plan on crossing the Gate again, Harry?" he asks softly.
"Yes, Sir," Harry says without hesitation, He was going back, he had to, but to Harry's surprise, Dumbledore nods.
"My only request is that you inform me before you pass through the gate, and to be careful, My Boy," Dumbledore says, turning back to look at Harry.
"I will sir," Harry says with a nod of his own.
"Then you have my thanks, Harry," Dumbledore says, before pulling out a pocket watch and checking the time, "But I believe our time has grown short, and Dinner is almost upon us," He says slipping the watch back into the pocket of his robe, "Let us return to the school, Harry, you still have your detention with McGonagall tonight after dinner," he says with a smile as Harry groans as neither of them notices the small crow sitting among the iron thorns.
Harry Potter, Transfiguration Wing, Hogwarts.
Harry stands outside of the office of his Head of House and Transfiguration Professor who hated him, Harry had always been sure of that. There was no other teacher who took more points from him or assigned him more detentions than Minerva McGonagall, not even Snape, she didn't listen to him when to him during his first year about the philosopher's stone, she had thought him a liar like the Dursleys had always told his teachers he was, he was sure of it. Now she had assigned him Detention for every weekend after dinner for the rest of the year because she, like Ron and Hermione, had thought he put his stupid name in the stupid Goblet. Harry sighs before he raises his hand, hesitating for a second before knocking on the door.
"Enter," the stern, strict voice of Professor McGonagall calls out, and Harry, with his head down, walks into the maw of the lion.
McGonagall looks up from the parchment lying on her desk, looking at Harry from over her glasses, "Ah, Mister Potter, Excellent, you right on time," She says as she, neatly organizes the essays on her desk before standing and taking off her glasses, "Follow me, Mister Potter," She says as she walks past Harry and out the door with her arms folded behind her back. Harry blinked, confused, most of his detentions with McGonagall were spent writing lines in complete silence while she graded homework. Harry quickly follows McGonagall out the door, they take the stairs down to the ground floor before making their way over to the entrance to the dungeons.
"Um, Professor? W-where-" Harry tried to ask but was immediately cut off by McGonagall.
"Not Here, Mister Potter, hold your questions for now," She tells him as she leads them down into the dark cold corridors under the school, leading him through the maze-like architecture under the school like she had walked the path numerous times before, by the time they stopped at an old iron door in the bowels of the dungeons, Harry was ninety percent sure McGonagall was going to kill him and dump his body somewhere below the school, and Harry flinched a bit as she draws her wand and waves it at the door. Harry could hear the sound of metal or metal scrapping together before a loud thunk echoed down the halls and the heavy iron door opened with a squeal.
McGonagall gestures to the doorway, "Well, inside Mister Potter," she says, and Harry swallows nervously and steps inside the room.
To anyone else, the room would be pitch black, but Harry could see everything perfectly in Greyscale, the room was half the size of the Quidditch Pitch with a tall ceiling extending some thirty feet up with the left side of the room dominated by wooden stands, most of the floor was the flag stone found all over the castle, but in the middle of the room was a large oval, maybe thirty or forty feet long and half that length wide, that looks to be made of wet compacted sand, on the left side of the room, hanging on the wall were four large banners of the four houses of Hogwarts.
Harry jumps as the three large chandeliers and the many touches lining the wall blaze to life, followed quickly by the sound of the large iron door sealing shut behind him, Harry spins around quickly to look at McGonagall casting a few spells over the door, though the only one he knew of was the Silencing Charm, before McGonagall turns back to look at Harry.
"Do you know where we are, Mister Potter?" McGonagall asks, her face passive as Harry shakes his head, "Not very surprising, not many of the students in the castle even know this room exist, let alone where it is, this is the dueling arena, and has, sadly, been underused for the last thirty-odd years," she tells Harry.
"Oh," Harry says, "Do, do you w-want me to c-clean it?" He asks, to which McGonagall sighs.
"No, Mister Potter," She tells him, "I do not want you to clean it, I expect you to be a bit busy learning Transfiguration to clean this old place," she says with a hit of a smirk to her lips.
"W-what?" Harry asks, now he was really confused.
"Every weekend, until the end of this foolish tournament, you and I will be coming down here where I will be personally teaching you Transfiguration, or what the Wixen of old called it," McGonagall says, "Battle Magic,"
"Why?" Harry asks, looking at her confused, "I thought you hated me," he admits and watches as McGonagall's face shifts from her normal passive expression to a sad one.
"Is that what you thought all this time?" She asks in a whisper, before shaking her head sadly, "Mister-, Harry, you are the son of two of the best students I ever had the pleasure of teaching, your father being my protege and your mother being the brightest witch of her age, both being my favorite students," she says softly, "No, Harry, I've hated myself because every time I look at you, I'm reminded of my failures," McGonagall says, and when Harry continues to look at her, she explains, "I was there that night, when Albus left you with the Dursleys all those years ago, I knew they were the worst type of muggles, but I didn't stop Albus from leaving you there, I never went back to check up on you, I could make the excuses, give you a whole list of reasons, but in the end, it doesn't matter," she says with a soft sigh.
"When I first saw you, how closed off you were, how thin you were, how hollow your eyes were, I knew they had done something to you, I knew that they had hurt you in ways I could even imagine, but still I had done nothing," McGonagall looks away from Harry, shame building in her eyes, "I was hoping you would step forward, I was hoping you would tell me, but you never did," she says in a whisper, "Though, I know I'm to blame for that, if I had just listened to you about the damn stone when you had said something, if I had just done anything, you probably would have, and I've cursed myself every day since for that stupid mistake," she spits the last words angrily, not at Harry, but at herself.
"I've hated myself for a long time, Harry," she says again before looking back at him, "In Lily's letter, she had asked me to watch over you, to make sure Sirius didn't drag you into too much trouble, and it made me realize just how much I had failed them both, how much I had failed you," McGonagall says, a mournful look on her face, "it's the reason why I could not bare to look you in the eyes for long, I could see them looking back at me, I have no idea how I'll be able to face them when my time is up, but I won't do it without at least trying to help you get through this tournament in one piece, Harry," she tells the boy in front of her, she wouldn't apologize, she would never apologize for sitting on the sidelines, not doing anything to help the small child that was locked away, unwanted, in the cupboard under the stairs, because how do you apologize to a child that you had condemned to a hell with your own inaction?
You couldn't, but you can do your damnedest to make up for it.
"What's battle magic?" Harry asks quickly, wanting to change the topic, it didn't matter anymore, he was fine, he was free, no more Dursleys, no more cupboard, no more room of broken and unwanted things.
McGonagall looks at him for a long minute before taking a deep breath, her face returning to her normal passive expression, "Battle Magic is an old term for transfiguration, and its focus is mostly, as it sounds, on battle, when most think of dueling nowadays, curses, jinxes, and hexes are the first thing that jumps to mind, now don't get me wrong, Harry, those are all well and good, but when your spell can be stopped by a simple shield charm or a conjured wall, it doesn't strike me as a very good way of doing things," she says with a smirk starting to form on her face.
"But, couldn't it be just vanished?" Harry asks, "The wall I mean," he says quickly, as McGonagall smirks before with a flick of her wand a granite wall rises from the sand pit behind them.
"Go on, Harry," She says, looking at Harry with a gleam in her eye, "I know you can vanish objects, so, by all means," McGonagall says with a gesture to the wall.
Harry was reasonably sure this was a trick, but as he narrowed his eyes at the wall, he still snapped his wand into his hand before waving it at the wall {"Evanesco"} Harry called out, but nothing happened, Harry turns back to the Professor confused.
"The third law of vanishing an inanimate object, Harry?" McGonagall simply asks him.
"You have to know what the object is made out of," Harry says back before looking back at the wall, confused.
"Correct, and I'm guessing you think it's a granite wall?" The Professor asks, to which harry nods, "Well, if you're focusing on vanishing a granite wall and the wall isn't vanishing, then it must only look like granite," She explains while walking over to the wall before taking the tip of her finger and pushing it into the wall, "Then it must be something else, or in this case, simple dark clay," she says with a smile.
"You made it look like granite," Harry says, realizing, as McGonagall smiles at him.
"Exactly," she says before stepping back, "Now that you know that, why don't you try it again?" she says, the smile never leaving her face as Harry redoes the spell, vanishing the clay only to find that hidden beneath it was a bronze wall and Harry looks back at McGonagall, blinking.
"Transfiguration is a branch of magic that requires, will, intent, and most importantly, imagination, Harry," McGonagall lectures him, "Imagination is one of the most important aspects of Battle Magic because the more one can think outside of the box, and see how one object turns into another in their mind's eye, the better one can become at it, you saw a wall of granite and wasted time to vanish it, just to find out that you couldn't because it wasn't a granite wall, and even then you didn't expect it to have a core of bronze in the middle," she says looking at Harry, "Vanishing an object is easy, Harry, but vanishing a misdirection is something else entirely," McGonagall says with her smirk returning.
"So it can only be used defensively?" Harry asks as McGonagall vanishes the bronze wall.
"Oh, Witch-Father, no," She says turning back to Harry, before pointing to the other side of the sand-packed field, "And since I know you are a visual learner, Harry, please stand on the opposite side of the field," she tells him.
Harry nods before walking over to the other side and facing the Professor before she speaks again, "Now, Harry, we are going to have a bit of a mock duel to show you how Battle Magic can be used offensively, you may use whatever Curse, Hex, Charm, or whatever you can think of, but I will have to ask you not to move from that spot," She tells him with a look that spoke of how serious her request was and Harry nods.
"Are you sure, Professor?" Harry asks, "About whatever spell I can think of?" He asks, Harry might not know the number of spells Hermione does, but the ones he does would hurt anyone he cast them at.
"Oh, if you wish to take it easy on an old lady such as myself, Harry, then, by all means, do so," McGonagall says with a smirk and a hint of amusement to her voice as Harry shrugs before shifting into a dueling stance he was shown in his second year as McGonagall held her wand to the side.
"On my mark, Harry," She calls from across the way, "Three, Two, One, Go!" she says, and as Harry's wand arm lashes out to cast a Cutting Curse at the Professor, she simply twists her wand, and Harry's world explodes in a shower of sand.
Harry instinctively jumps back, watching in growing horror and disbelief as the whole of the sand pit rises up to meet him one second, and in the next, it was as if every grain of sand twists into a spear as thick as his arm with a bladed head as wide as his chest. He looks at the Professor who had her wand raised and a smirk on her face, and before Harry could do a single thing, her wand drops sending the wall of ballista bolts at Harry. They slam into the wall behind him, and the floor around him, shredding the stands by him and breaking and cracking the ancient stone of the castle, all before Harry could land from his jump.
Harry stood in the middle of a perfect circle made from the bolts around him, looking at McGonagall with wide eyes, the smile never leaving her face before, with arm extended and wand pointing down, she spins her hand in a circle as the bolts closes to Harry unravel into thick chains before they begin to wrap around Harry. As they finish ensnaring Harry, McGonagall flicks her wand sharply downward, causing the chains to melt into a thick and dense iron block around Harry's chest that sends him crashing to his knees.
McGonagall let out a breath as she inspected her handy work from afar, Harry could make out the beads of sweat rolling down her forehead from what had to be an intense magic output, "Those who practice Battle Magic are considered walking Ballista, trebuchets, and catapults as well fortress walls and battlements, Harry," she explains to the shocked boy kneeling on the ground, "The drawbacks should be quite obvious, as well as why it has fallen out of favor in modern times, that being how imprecise it can be and the collateral damage it can cause," McGonagall says before flicking her wand, reducing her transfiguration's back to sand before with a flourish replaces it back into the pit.
"In the last fifty years, there have only been four classically trained Wixen in Battle Magic, our esteemed Headmaster, Professor Moody, his protege, Nymphadora Tonks, and your father," She says with a smile as she walks over to Harry who was getting back to his feet as she conjures a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her brow, "It requires a dense magical core that can filter the large of amounts of magic through it without damaging it for prolonged use, while I do not have such a core, it is my belief that you do, if you successfully casting the Patronus Charm is any indication," McGonagall explains looking down at Harry.
Harry was stunned, stunned at what just happened, stunned at what McGonagall just said, just stunned. He looked at her with wide eyes, McGonagall thought he could do that!?
"It is my hope, by personally tutoring you in the basics of Battle Magic, you will be able to survive what is to come in the tournament, and make it out the other side alive," McGonagall tells the shocked before her, "But know now, Harry, I will be a brutal taskmaster, for we do not have time for anything less before the first task, and we will focus on more of the defensive aspect of Battle Magic before we even touched the offensive side, do you understand, Harry?" she asks him, and all Harry could do was nod dumbly.
"Excellent," McGonagall says with a smile, "Shall we get started, Mister Potter?" she says with something of a fond remembrance in her eyes.
Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts Gate, 13th of November.
It had been a week since Albus Dumbledore learned what lay beyond the gate below Hogwarts and had his suspicions confirmed by the young Mister Potter, he had tried to push it from his mind, to focus on the current school year and what was to come. But it has haunted him since he had learned, his dreams, once of peaceful of simpler, and happier days, but now visions of shadows crawled into his dreams, curling around his mind like hooked tendrils and calling to him with blood-red eyes looking at him with expectations, ones he felt he didn't meet.
Albus shivered, but it wasn't because of the cold November chill in the air, but his own thoughts of what lay beyond the Gate of Skye and what it meant for Hogwarts and what it meant for him. He could only hope to have the courage that young Mister Potter had shown time and time again to face what lay beyond the gate if the time was to come. But now was not the time for dark thoughts and what a future that lay in shadow may bring, he had guests to greet, so with a thought he banished the haunting blood-red eyes from his mind as he looks to the first guest that approached the gate with a smile.
"Garrick," Ablus calls out with a smile and a wave, as his old friend crests the hill that leads up to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade.
"Ah, Albus!" Garrick Ollivander calls back with a small smile of his own as he approaches at his own, relaxed pace, dressed as he always did, forgoing robes for a dark brown jacket, slacks, and boots. His ghostly silver eyes taking everything in with fond memories of the past, as he reaches the Headmaster, the two old friends shake hands with the smiles never leaving their faces.
"Always good to see you old friend," Albus says as he shakes Garrick's hand.
"Likewise, Albus, how is the old girl?" Garrick asks, referring to the school standing just beyond them.
"As mysterious and homely as ever before, Garrick, how is business?" Albus asks back, as they drop hands.
"Booming, thankfully, more and more young witches and wizards pass through my shop to purchase wands every year," Garrick says with a fond smile, and Albus nods, the baby boom after the Blood War was finally showing itself, hopefully, soon, the school will finally be back up to a sizable student population to where he could start hiring new teachers, Severus has been complaining about it for the last two years about how his class sizes were becoming too large to watch over properly.
"Shall we get this over with then?" Asks Garrick as he gestures up to the school with a nod of his head.
"I'm afraid that we are stuck here waiting for one more person to show up," Albus says, his eyes turning back to the road.
"Oh, I had thought everyone was already here?" Garrick asks, a bushy white brow raising in curiosity.
"Ah, if this had gone as it should have, then yes, but I decided to reach out to a group from the states to fix a complication, shall we say?" Albus says with a smirk, hands folding behind his back.
"Ah, so the rumors are true, young Mister Potter was entered into the tournament?" the aged wandmaker asks with a curious look in his eyes as Albus simply nods.
"I do hope our other guest arrives quickly," Albus says, "I had to leave the Champions with Miss Skeeter and I fear what she would try and get out of Mister Potter if left to her own devices for too long," the Headmaster says with a sigh.
Garrick nods in understanding, the poisonous quill of Rita Skeeter should not be left unattended or underestimated for long. So the two elderly men simply stand and conversate about the latest woodworking tools that could be found on the market as they wait, and as a snow-white owl passes over their heads, Albus' eyes tracking it as it went, he announces the final member of their trio had arrived.
Garrick turns his head to see a young woman, looking no older than eighteen, walking up the small road, she was strikingly beautiful with olive color skin and her long dark hair pulled back and tied into a high ponytail, she wore a silver leather muggle jacket over a dark blue shirt and black leather riding pants with what looks like worn leather boots. She had a pack thrown over one shoulder, a large knife hanging from her side, and a large white box with a silver now tucked under her other arm. But the thing that stood out most to Garrick Ollivander was her eyes, they burned like the setting sun as she looked forward to the school.
"It seems," Albus says, "The last representative has finally arrived,"
Notes:
Chapter done!
And so Harry begins his journey to master Battle Magic, and this is going to be a huge reason why he is considered one of the most dangerous people in the world after Voldemort.
Transfiguration, to me, is probably one of the most powerful branches of magic and is incredibly underutilized in both Canon and Fanon. We are talking about the power to turn one object it into another, to conjure items one would need in battle, and even turning the battlefield into something that favors you, and most people make fucking birds with it? McG turned flames into flying daggers with a twist of her wand and that's the best people can come up with? Nah, y'all sit back and watch what old Kingsaxcul does with it.
McGonagall has a lot to make up for when it comes to Harry, and she knows this, but she had no idea on how to do it and has beaten herself up over it for a very long time, so please be kind to her. While she is no Battle Magic expert or trained in it, due to not having a dense enough core to utilize it to its full power for a long period, she knows enough about it as a transfiguration master to teach the basics, and yes, this is the same style of magic Scáthach has mastered.
But it seems that Albus is putting everything together about Hogwarts and what the old girl wants.
Can y'all tell who the Hunter is now that Artemis sent? JOIN MY PATREON FOR EARLY ACCESS TO MY STORIES patreon.com/Chartso_