The fifth day of detention, Harry arrived promptly at 6pm. He was feeling distinctly uneasy, not quite sure what to expect anymore from Snape. At Snape’s prompting, he set his book bag down in Snape’s office and followed him into the antechamber. Like the day before, the desk and chair had been removed, revealing a large, cavernous room lit only by wall sconces. Harry noted that Snape had neither asked for Harry’s wand, nor locked the closed door of the antechamber.

Harry followed Snape as far as the center of the room and then waited for instruction.

Snape continued to the far end of the room before turning around to face him. “I am surprised, Potter, that Dumbledore has not made it his top priority to show you how to protect yourself.”

Harry said nothing. He would have liked to argue, but his own failings danced before him.

“If I were to find myself in your situation,” Snape continued, “I would have done this.”

Harry watched as Snape raised his hand, palm outward, to the center of his chest and pushed his hand toward Harry in a rapid, fluid motion. In the next instant, Harry felt a tremendous blow to his stomach. As the air in his lungs was forcefully expelled, he felt himself being thrown into the air and crashing hard against the wall ten feet behind him. Oddly, hitting the wall didn’t hurt. The stone floor, which he knew should be cold and damp, was pleasantly warm as well. But his insides ached desperately as he fought to breath. He lay doubled up on the floor, his arms wrapped protectively around his middle, rasping for breath.

In a haze of pain, he saw the tips of Snape’s boots approach. He would have flinched if he could have mustered the presence of mind. He saw the tip of Snape’s wand descend, along with a few murmured words he didn’t recognize. He closed his eyes tightly in anticipation of whatever horrible thing would happen next. Instead, all the pain of having the wind knocked out of him disappeared. “What the...” Harry began, noticing that his breath came easily.

“If you can do that,” Snape said, offering his hand to Harry and pulling him to his feet, “you needn’t worry about being bullied by those Muggles again.”

Harry stood on wobbly legs. “But I haven’t learned how to do non-verbal spells yet,” Harry said. “Not to mention what happens if they somehow get my wand away from me.” Harry shut his mouth, fearing he’d said to much. He waited for Snape to make some remark about careless wizards losing their wands in the face of foes.

“And what exactly do you think you are here tonight for, Potter?” Snape snapped. Without waiting for a response, he continued. “Incidentally, you can still perform this magic even if you don’t have your wand. Assuming that is, that it’s within about 25 feet of you.”

Snape began to pace and Harry waited for him to still.

“I will endeavor, Potter, to teach you this bit of magic over the next several evenings. Do try your best not to try my patience.”

Harry nodded, barely concealing a grin.

“Then let’s begin.”

Harry spent the next two hours trying his hardest to push Snape around with his mind. At one point, Snape got so frustrated that he stormed out of the room, grabbed his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson plans, and proceeded to busy himself while Potter tried, red-faced and unsuccessful, to move the air in the room.

“You will continue to serve detention with me every night, Potter, until you get this right.”

“But what about Quidditch practice, sir?” Harry asked.

Snape sneered. “Quidditch will keep. And perhaps it will give you the motivation you need to learn this spell.”

“He’s trying to teach me the Aero Mobulus spell,” Harry said when he arrived back in the common room.

“What’s that?” Ron asked.

“Ooohhh, that’s a really advanced piece of magic, Harry.” Hermione said at the same time. “It’s not even in the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7.”

“But what is it?” Ron asked again.

“It’s a non-verbal spell that can only be done by really skilled wizards. It’s one of the Four Primal Element spells.” Hermione said.

“Four Primal Element spells?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Hermione breathed. “Earth, air, water, and fire. The Aero Mobulus spell is an air moving spell that can incapacitate anyone or anything in the immediate vicinity.”

“Well,” Harry said, “Snape says I can’t go back to playing Quidditch until I’ve learned it.”

“No way!” Ron protested. “Our first game against Slytherin is in three weeks!”

Hermione looked thoughtful. “Harry, if Professor Snape wants you to learn that spell, he must have a really good reason.”

“Yeah,” Ron grumbled, “Like losing our match against Slytherin.”

Harry shrugged, wondering dejectedly how he could possibly master such an advanced spell before their match against Slytherin.

Harry continued meeting Snape every night at 6pm for what he’d started to think of as Potter-bashing advanced-magic lessons rather than detention. Snape never missed an opportunity to criticize Harry’s magical prowess, or lack thereof, but Harry was actually quite pleased with his progress. Every free moment he had, he worked with Hermione on the spell. He was able to push small objects and books all the way across the room though, as Hermione had warned, it was a lot harder to push an actual person.

It took Harry over a week to be able to push Snape backwards two feet. After he’d gotten the hang of it, though, it came easily, and soon he was gleefully throwing his former Potions master across the cushion-charmed antechamber.

Harry arrived one evening at Snape’s office particularly smug about his progress. Perhaps tonight Snape would release him from detentions and he could start practicing Quidditch with the rest of his team. Much to Harry’s disappointment, though, Snape appeared to be in a particularly foul mood.

“You’re late,” Snape snarled.

Harry looked at the clock. It was 6:02pm. “I’m sorry. Professor McGon…”

“No excuses, Potter, I’ve wasted enough of my time with you. And your progress in non-verbal spells is rather disappointing.”

Harry cursed inwardly. If Hermione hadn’t told Harry how advanced the Aero Mobulus spell actually was, he might have believed Snape. As it was, he knew Snape well enough by now to know that he just happened to be the most convenient target for Snape’s sour mood.

Gritting his teeth, he said, “I’ll try harder, sir.”

Harry followed Snape into the antechamber. For the first time, Snape did not cast the cushioning charm, and Harry wondered if he should remind the Professor. One look at Snape’s face, though, told Harry that wouldn’t only be foolish, it would be downright dangerous.

“Tonight, Potter, I’m going to show you one of the two other important characteristics of this spell that you must learn.”

Harry groaned inwardly. There was no way he’d learn all of this before their first Quidditch game. Sighing, he watched as Snape conjured a semicircular row of 5 wooden chairs. Harry stepped back away from the chairs as Snape stowed his wand.

Then Snape swept his hand in a wide, purposeful arc that was almost violent in its intentions. To Harry’s amazement, the five chairs flew into the air and smashed, simultaneously, into the stone wall, wood splintering, and shards flying in all directions.

“That,” Snape said, “is step one.”

Snape stepped past Harry and waved his wand to restore the chairs to their original condition and position. “I’ll be in my office, Potter. When you’ve wrapped your feeble mind around this step, I’ll show you step two.”

Harry swallowed. What was step two?

It took another four days for Harry to master the sweeping arm motion matched with the non-verbal incantation that would smash any number of chairs or other objects against the stone wall of the antechamber. Hermione would have been proud, but all Harry could think about was the fact that he still had to master step two and the match against Slytherin was now less than two weeks away.

“Take out your wand, Potter,” Snape commanded as the two of them stood, once again, in the antechamber.

Harry complied, feeling nervous. Snape seemed to enjoy showing Harry things first and explaining after, with the end result being that Harry often ended up in some kind of pain to prove Snape’s point.

“Expelliarmus!”

Snape cast the disarming spell before Harry even knew what hit him. His wand clattered to the floor at Snape’s feet. Harry stood with a mixture of apprehension and annoyance spreading over him in equal measure.

“Pathetic, Potter. How will you fight the Dark Lord if you can’t even defend yourself against a first year spell?”

Harry said nothing. He knew he’d just been bested. He bent to reach for his wand, but a guttural noise from Snape stopped him.

“We will have to work with what we have, Potter. You’ve just lost your wand.”

Snape proceeded to throw his aside. It clattered on the floor next to Potter’s.

“And now an attacker is coming at you,” Snape said in a menacingly soft voice as he stalked toward Harry.

Instinctively, Harry reacted, the Aero Mobulus spell radiating from the palm of his hand. He watched, dumbfounded, as Snape flew backwards and landed on his arse.

Snape’s look of surprise almost made Harry laugh, except that he’d realized that neither of them had cast cushioning charms and Snape had landed rather hard on the stone floor. Serves him right for having such a low opinion of my abilities,Harry thought bitterly

“Well, well, Potter...”

“I know, I know,” Harry waved a hand dismissively. “It was a feeble effort.

Snape gazed at Harry with an unreadable expression.

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry said quickly, “I was just trying to save you the trouble of taking me down a notch.”

Snape averted his face but Harry could have sworn he saw the start of grin there.