//------------------------------// // Chapter 23: Safety and Practice // Story: Harry Potter and the Prancing of Ponies // by The Guy Who Writes //------------------------------// Silver's lessons progressed well enough. Both the ones he was learning and the ones he was teaching. On the learning end, Silver felt like he might finally be ready to answer Mr. Book's ambidexterity question. On the teaching end, his class of pegasi was almost ready for air-bucking. They'd learned how to cloud phase. They'd learned how to cloud harden. They'd learned to do them both back-to-back- After phasing through a cloud, Mr. Book landed solidly on the track below, a feat which only now impressed the gathered ponies, and still impressed Silver. "For today's lesson, you'll be putting the two things you learned together. Freedom and determination. You'll need to be able to switch between those feelings very quickly. I'll be practicing right alongside you, since I'm not that good at it yet. Always remember that your role models and authority figures are never as perfect as they like to pretend they are." -although that particular lesson had taken multiple weeks, giving him time to induct new students and get them caught up. During this time, he'd also investigated what happens when a cloud being hardened by a determined pegasus meets the cloud-phasing body of a free pegasus. Turns out that freedom wins in that paradox. After that came recovery from projectile motion. Flight Formation had taught recovery from uncontrolled flight as part of his ordinary tutoring sessions, and Silver immediately realized it would have been a very useful technique to know two months ago, back when he first launched himself to insane speeds. The adults already knew how to do it, of course, but some were out of practice, and none had practiced at the speeds of a full-powered, air-bucking assisted takeoff. At Mr. Book's suggestion, his most recent lesson involved using a mindset of freedom to reduce air resistance. This would make the G-forces of the final lesson easier to bear. Mr. Silver had been protected by the broomstick enchantments that first time. Afterwards, he learned how to protect himself from 'the Gs' with a freedom mindset. But Mr. Book was right, it would be better for his students to learn it the other way around – protection first, air-bucking second. This class would be the final lesson before air-bucking. "Today, you'll be learning the most important safety precaution I can think of," he began at 4:00 PM sharp. "If you can't learn it, I won't teach you how to buck air. It simply would not be safe." At least two of the younger ponies instantly asked, "Why not?" Silver grinned. The questioning authority tidbits he'd managed to squeeze into his lessons from time to time were beginning to pay dividends. "If I hadn't taken a large number of precautions the first time I successfully bucked air," Silver emphasized, "I probably would have killed myself." There were many gasps. "And I wouldn't want to hear that one of you died by trying to buck air before you were ready." He paused dramatically, letting that sink in. "If it's so dangerous," said one of the adults, sounding skeptical, "why are you teaching it to us in the first place?" "Because it's not dangerous if you know how to handle it. Kind of like flying itself. I once had a professor who taught something way more dangerous than air-bucking, and she had a perfect record for student safety. I almost accidentally ruined that record, too, so I'm not exactly the best role model for safety." Not to mention he'd recently run a private experiment to see how the original iteration of his transfigured, rocket-powered broomstick, held together by glue, would have gone. He was very glad Professor Quirrell had woken up. No, he is not a good role model for safety. "That's why I had you all sign a waiver to the effect that I'm not going to be held liable if you try something stupid without supervision and get yourselves hurt or, Celestia forbid, killed. If you want to gamble with your own life now that you've been told of the dangers, that's on you." He let that sink in as well. "Just keep in mind that your parents would probably be very sad if you did that." He turned to his teacher's aide. "Mr. Book?" Mr. Book, eyes closed in concentration, began walking upwards. Not flying. Not air-bucking. Stepping, as if ascending a spiral staircase. Mr. Silver's eyes widened. "Um... yes!" he announced to the gaping audience, as if he'd been expecting his mentor/teacher's aide to do that. Or even knew that it was a possibility in the first place. "As you can see," he stated in fake authority, "there are many applications to air-bucking. Just to be clear, you won't be learning how to do that today. He just needs to get high enough to demonstrate." And he didn't want to reveal his species on the way up, Silver realised. Or he's just showing off, since he could have just air-bucked upward, like usual. Wait, is he ACTUALLY walking on air, or is he just using his broomstick enchantments to pretend? Mr. Book stopped ascending, opened his eyes, entered free fall, and then slowed his fall at the last second, coming to almost a complete stop even before hitting the ground. His hooves touched gently back on the cloud below. "That's what you'll be learning," Silver decreed. "The air cushion." A few minutes later, Silver was watching student after student strike the cloud stadium, none seeing success so soon. Especially since he was going the typical 'figure it out for yourselves' route. "How, precisely, did you almost kill yourself in the stern disciplinarian's subject?" Mr. Book asked, obviously referring to McGonagall and Transfiguration. "I performed independent research two months into the school year." "I trust you were sufficiently reprimanded?" "Mmm... not quite. I didn't tell her that I actually performed the research, I just told her that I discussed an idea with my friend. Even that made her flip out, but she didn't give me a proper scolding because she didn't know the full truth. Don't worry, though." He scratched his back left fetlock in a casual motion. "My friend was more than happy to do it for her." "I can imagine you took precautions, but still. You are a lucky idiot." "I know." The next day... "Ambidexterity helps with wandless casting because it forces you to learn how to cast spells in a new way, and it also forces you to not cast spells the normal way." "Not specific enough." Great. Months of thinking and he still hadn't quite gotten it. He probably should have given that guess earlier, as soon as he thought of it. Also... "Then I'm asking for a hint." ...he should have done that sooner too. Mr. Book's expression was unreadable. The crystal cave wasn't the brightest of settings. "Right now, Mr. Silver, you are still thinking of magic in terms of the individual spells you can cast. Perhaps less so than your typical wizard, but you are still doing it. Remember that, as I give your hint in the form of an analogy. "Thinking about magic in terms of spells is similar to how individuals typically think of language in terms of the words they speak. They do not realize when they are using words improperly, especially when they grow older. Even those that think of themselves as highly intelligent are prone to this mistake. I once witnessed a debate about the efficacy and dangers of authority. If you are curious, that debate helped shape my position on democracy. One part in particular stood out: 'Those who need leaders are not qualified to choose them.' If you wish to debate me on politics again, do not do so until you find a counterexample to that claim, or abandon your foolish fondness for democracy." Silver's brain only had a few seconds to examine that loaded statement – (a) it implies that not everybody needs leaders, (b) it doesn't refute the 'keep politicians scared of the voters so they don't go evil' line of reasoning he'd used to defend Democracy, and (c) it's actually true, if you're the type of person/pony who needs a leader, then you're probably not the type of person who can distinguish good leaders from subtly flawed ones – before Mr. Book continued and his brain had to reorient itself to follow the analogy/hint. "But I digress. In the midst of conversation, one of the debaters accidentally switched between speaking of 'authority' in the political sense – those who hold power over others, such as rulers, governors, politicians, police, and parents – and speaking of 'authority' in the realm of competence – craftsmen, tradesmen, doctors, and thinkers, who are recognised authorities on their arts. Those are two different concepts, and in other languages, there are separate words to describe the difference. The speaker did not even realise what he was doing until it was pointed out to him. He acknowledged his mistake, apologized, and then immediately proceeded to repeat the error with the word 'you'. He spoke of 'you' his individual opponent, then switched in the same sentence to a rhetorical 'you' referring to a collective mass of people to which his opponent belonged. "Multilingualism is the standard solution to this stupidity, according to his opponent, who claims he could so easily spot this because he was trilingual by the age of six. To be able to speak fluently in multiple languages, especially vastly different languages like Mandarin, Hindi, and English, as I set out to become after witnessing this debate, one must think in terms of concepts, not words. And the more you learn, the better. I also learned Russian in my wanderings, which further forced my mind to think of language in terms of concepts, not words." "And ambidextrous casting," Silver realised, suddenly excited as his not-quite-conscious thoughts merged analogy with reality, "forces you to think about the magic you're using to shape and power your spells, not just how you're going to get the wand movements and incantation right. I can control spells pretty easily with my right hoof, but when I switched to my left, my power was all over the place." It had been a big problem. When he first learned diffindo back on the other side of the mirror, he could instinctively control the strength of the slash. He had been learning magic for over half a year by that point and he was close to top of his class. Even after less than a year of using a wand, he'd already started taking his good control for granted, and had therefore stopped paying attention to the power output, except under rare circumstances. The first time he produced the most powerful spell he'd ever cast, he would notice it. But that was a once-a-month occurrence at most. But when he switched to his left hoof, he lost all his instinct, and it happened on a daily basis. It took a while for him to even notice the magic going down his left arm. Once he did notice it, regulation became possible once more, though he still struggled with it. "Once I went back to square one, I had to start paying attention to my magic all over again. And now, I can notice my magic more easily when I'm doing other things. Like potions. And sustaining a transfiguration wandlessly. That was the point, right?" Mr. Book sighed. "I suspected that hint would make the answer too obvious. But yes. Just as a cunning linguist uses language on the conceptual level, a skilled wizard feels magic on an intuitive level, and that intuition allows for wandlessness. As a side note, the problem of power output, among others, is why I abandoned non-dominant casting as a constraint idea for my mock battles." "That... doesn't sound like the worst idea." "Correct. It does not sound bad. But upon closer inspection, it likely would have failed. Forcing all students to fight with their other hand holding their wand would have been a gimmick at best. At worst, it would have allowed the battlefield to be dominated by those few who already knew how to do it, even if I gave advanced warning of the constraint. But where an idea fails in one endeavour, it can sometimes succeed in another." "Right," said Silver. "So... do I just keep practicing ambidextrous casting until there's no difference between my dominant and non-dominant arm?" "There shall always be a difference," Mr. Book declared authoritatively. "No matter how much you practice. And you will continue practicing. You will do so until you find a practical advantage in your non-dominant casting, and then you will exploit that advantage for the rest of your life. Ambidexterity is a lifestyle change, not a temporary technique. For myself, when I use a wand, my dominant arm is best for precise control, but I trained my non-dominant arm for pure, raw, unfiltered power. You will likely find some different purpose, and you will continue looking until you find it. Training yourself to notice your own magic will not always be enough incentive to maintain ambidexterity, especially once you begin wandless magic in full. You need a different positive incentive." "Got it," said Silver. He didn't bother complaining, or even hesitating. He didn't let his mind grow resentful. If this is what it would take to become a more powerful wizard, it is simply what he would do. "So is my next lesson to find that positive reason on my own?" Mr. Book stared at him flatly. "Predict my answer to that question." Silver sweatdropped. "Um... you said we'd move on to the next lesson when I figured out ambidexterity... no, when I figured out how it relates to wandless magic, which I did. Finding a positive reason for ambidextrous casting doesn't have anything to do with wandless magic, so... it's time for the next important lesson." "Correct. You are lucky we have time for conversations that ordinary people inflict upon each other. I would have been more annoyed otherwise." "Sorry," said Silver. "I'll try to be more careful about that. So what's next?" Mr. Book stared into his eyes for a moment. Eye contact was now possible because his glasses were no longer reflective. Instead, they somehow made his eyes appear like normal pony eyes, not slitted thestral eyes. A shock of adrenaline entered Silver's system when Mr. Book's voice said Legilimency to his mind. Not to his occlumency barrier. Not to the fake person he always kept at the forefront of his thoughts. To his actual, true self. "And perfect Occlumency," Mr. Book added aloud, closing his eyes and breaking contact. "Your current shields are far too weak." "Mad Eye said the same thing," Silver agreed, trying to keep his voice steady, and trying to think if he'd been thinking of anything important just now, but thankfully coming up blank. "By the way, that reminds me. He called you the best Legilimens in the world, and that part I believe. But then he said you're not like any other Legilimens in history because you don't need to look people in the eyes. Did you use cold reading or something else to trick everyone into believing you could read minds without eye contact... or iss it ssomething you can truly do?" "Your guesss iss correct," Mr. Book hissed with a grin. "Wass a sseriess of clever bluffss to trick enemiess. I musst look into eyess for true reading of thoughtss. Though he is likely correct that I am one of the world's best Legilimens, if not the best. The basis of Legilimency is your ability to comprehend another person's thoughts. You must put yourself in their mental shoes. To become a Legilimens is to learn true empathy." Was the person who played the part of Lord Voldemort and could cast the Killing Curse with apathy instead of hatred really calling himself empathic? "Becoming multilingual had many advantages," continued Mr. Book, either unaware of the irony, or pretending to ignore it. "Using Legilimency on those who speak different languages not only kept me in practice – magically and lingually – it forced me to comprehend vastly different mindsets from my own. Environmental factors have a great impact on mental states, and so do cultural ones. You cannot encounter the truly unique minds of the world until you visit the truly unique environments, and the truly unique countries, and the truly unique social structures, and... well, you get the idea." "Um..." said Silver. "Legilimency is outlawed in Magical Britain except under certain circumstances, and even when it's allowed it's read-only. Does the International Confederation of Wizards not care?" "Oh, the ICW has even harsher laws to punish unauthorised mind-reading." "Um... just how quickly did you typically determine that a country's magical government was... what did you say? Irredeemably corrupt? Or was this an exception?" "Inept, and it often only took a week or two. The longest it ever took was three months. This place is a new record, I must admit. Perhaps that is by the mirror's design." "And you didn't practice Legilimency until you came to the inept conclusion?" Silver asked, focusing on the important thing. "Oh, I practiced plenty." Mr. Book grinned. "The ICW does not outlaw Legilimency on muggles." There was a pause. "I imagine," said Silver, "that the local governments-" He stopped short. "Do not outlaw Legilimency against muggles either, that is correct. And that includes the muggle legal systems." Mr. Book's grin was much wider now. Silver's face was in his hooves. "Please don't tell me I'm going to be learning Legilimency by practicing on random ponies." "Oh, you shan't be learning that way. But if you wish to become truly competent, you must practice against a vast variety of minds. And not just pony minds. Gryffons, dragons, minotaur, hydra. There are plenty of sapient creatures in this realm. I suspect their minds will prove even more unique than those I found in my own travels. In retrospect, I see now that I should have Legilimised a few centaurs and goblins and merfolk. If I were not the one recommending it, I might just be jealous I did not have such a wonderful opportunity available to me when I was your age." Silver hesitated. He knew that Mr. Book would be severely disappointed if he denied the practice on principle. If he rejected the path to true competency because of moral qualms, he would be met with a severe expression indicating he'd lost many points. "I'll find an ethical way to do it when we get to that point," he decided. "I imagine Legilimency isn't dangerous to a perfect Occlumens?" Mr. Book nodded. "As you have correctly inferred, I will be your personal tutor and target. You will not use Legilimency beyond these caves until I give you the go-ahead. Even without ethical quibbles, a poorly-executed attempt at Legilimency is easily detected." "And we wouldn't want to make the local populace aware of it because I tried to Legilimise a random pony while I was still learning," Silver said when he saw that Mr. Book expected him to say why. "It'd be worse than them learning we could use wands and spells." "Correct." There was a brief pause as Mr. Book took out his wand. "I shall be using my wand during your Perfect Occlumency lessons, but only so that you might better learn the gestures and pronunciation of the ordinary casting. Pay close attention to it. Alsso, I sshall try to not look at your thoughtss. I sshall attack your barrier and sstop if your sshieldss fail." Without even so much as a 'prepare yourself,' Mr. Book pointed his wand, gestured with a probing, piercing motion, and said, "Legilimens." The next hour was not pleasant. At all. Mr. Silver became very familiar with how much pain could be inflicted upon an imaginary persona, how many questions could be asked in a fraction of a second, how pretending to be a rock simply did not stand up to a competent Legilimency practitioner. He barely had enough sense of self to ask his standard question before he left. "What progresss have you made to the goal of ressurrecting girl-child-friend?" "Have done much reading. Much ssearching. Am beginning to ssusspect that even hintss to ansswer sshall not be found in sstandard placess. Iss good I sshall acquire accesss to besst location in country ssoon. If even that failss, we sshall have to go ssomewhere elsse. To new country, perhapss. By the by, the Element of Honesty is capable of reliably detecting dishonesty. Do be careful not to lie about anything important in front of her."