HP: Monochrome

"INCENDIO!"

A flickering tongue of flame shot out of his wand, illuminating the pit of stone conjured to serve as a control medium for his spell-training. Somehow, having his godfather stand over his shoulder while he poured magic through his wand to cast one spell after another hadn't been what he expected his summers to be.

Still, it was loads better than being at the Dursleys.

His spellcasting had become slightly better with the practice, and his spells were becoming less likely to resort to wild kamikaze attacks. Even so, Sirius had kept him away from any and all transfiguration practice, limiting him strictly to practicing charms. Charms, according to Sirius, was all about altering singular attributes of a complete object while still maintaining its 'completeness'. Until Harry became a deft hand at that, he wouldn't be allowed to shift to transfiguration, which was a complete rearrangement of an object at the molecular level.

Over the last three weeks, Sirius had him go over the charms he had studied during his last four years at school, often showing how to tweak a particular charm or apply it with another charm without breaking the wand movement. Say what you will about his otherwise dotty godfather, Sirius was a ruthless perfectionist when it came to teaching, absolutely unforgiving and downright demanding in his expectations. Harry, who had had no one expect anything out of him, found it to be absolutely novel, and pushed himself all the way until he couldn't even cast a single Lumos.

And finally, they were shifting past the Charms' line.

Elemental Conjuration.

It was, in Sirius's not so humble opinion, the transition between Charms and Transfiguration. Unlike Material Conjuration, which was something only NEWT transfiguration students could attempt, elemental conjuration was remarkably easier and aided in cementing the basic rules for transfiguration in the student's mind.

Too bad they had started out directly with transfiguration as a first-year instead of this, but Harry understood the concerns. Allowing firsties access to elemental conjuration would go on as well as libraries and flamethrowers.

"Keep trying," said the former hit-wizard, "It takes some time to get the hang of elemental charms."

Harry frowned. It wasn't like he didn't trust Sirius's competency on the subject, but this was hardly the first time he'd cast a fire spell. In fact, he'd successfully conjured bluebell flames as a first-year student with no problems.

"You're making faces again, Harry."

"Sorry!" he looked up, eyes wide like a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar. "I just— it's—" he glanced at his wand, "it's like my wand is fighting me."

"Fighting you? How?"

"Whenever I'm trying to cast the spell, I have this odd feeling that it doesn't want to cast it." Harry shook his head as he held up his wand. "Earlier, I had to push everything I had into it just to get that thin stream of flame. This doesn't make any sense!"

"Maybe it is the wand…" Sirius mused. "Different wands are good for different things after all. There's also your affinity to consider."

"Affinity?"

"Why yes," said Sirius, "each of us are good at something and bad at others. I myself was good at DADA and charms, but hopeless at runecraft. Lily was the runesmith among us, and she was pants at transfiguration. Deft hand at charms work, though."

"And my dad?" Harry asked, hopefully.

Sirius ruffled his already messed-up hair. "Your father was a natural at transfiguration. Then again, it's in your blood. The Potters have always been gifted at transfiguration and kinetic-magic. I know you've got at least one of those, right?"

Harry blushed.

"But enough about that. How about you try my wand?"

Harry blinked. "Yours?"

"Yes." He drew his own wand and handed it over. "Blackthorn and dragon heartstring. Dragons are creatures of fire. If nothing else, that is one element my wand never fails at."

Harry looked at Sirius's wand glumly. Pursing his lips for a second, he grabbed the wand by its handle, doing his best to ignore the feeling of utter unfamiliarity digging into his hand from the warm wood.

"Go on, then. Give it a wave."

He sighed. Holding it like the handle of a sword, he flicked it downwards at the stone pit.

"Incendio!"

The wand coughed out a thin cloud of ember, which flickered and died before even reaching the bottom of the shallow stone pit.

"Yep, not working," Sirius dryly replied, promptly taking his wand back. "It certainly isn't a wand issue. Why don't you try again and feel where it's going wrong?"

Harry smiled. Now this was familiar territory. He'd always been somewhat of a kinesthetic learner. Unlike Hermione, who could write a thesis on the intricacies of magical theory and how magic was shaped into a spell, Harry had always done it instinctively through practice. He could just feel when a spell was done right, and when it didn't, he'd shove more power through his wand until it did.

It didn't really get any simpler than that.

"Tell me, what are you doing when you cast the spell?"

"I'm, uh, imagining the flames coming out the tip of my wand."

His tutor winced. "That's… probably where you've got it wrong. This is charmswork, Harry, not conjuration. What you're trying to do is conjure fire from literally nothing." He held out his wand. "You see, magic may be the act of manipulating the world around you through your own will, but such manipulation is still subject to natural laws."

Harry furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

Sirius cocked his head. "Tell me Harry, what do you do when you convert, say, a pin into a needle?"

"I… imagine the needle?" he offered. He'd never really been one for transfiguration theory. That was all Hermione's domain.

"Not enough," he shook his head. "If it's a needle, you need to think of the hardness of the steel it is made up of. The sharpness of the tip. The sleek size of the needle's shaft. What you are really doing is visualizing the end product."

That, Harry decided, made a lot of sense.

"Try this then. What do you do when levitating a feather?"

That one was easy. "I… think of it getting lighter and flying up."

Sirius's smile told him he'd given the correct reply. "Visualize the process. The mechanism. That's another fundamental difference between transfiguration and charms. The former requires visualization of the end product, while the latter is all about the process. The journey. The mechanism involved."

"But what about the Patronus?" he raised. "No, wait, I immerse myself with the happy memory. The warmth. And my patronus becomes a shield against the dementor."

"Very perceptive," his tutor replied with a bright smile. "Time for a demonstration then."

He turned his wand towards the stone pit.

"You know how everything around you is made of tiny particles of matter, right? And how heating a solid causes them to melt and change shape?"

Harry nodded.

"Step one. Focus on the air in front of you. It's a mixture of gases. Particles. Tiny particles. It doesn't matter if you can't see it. Know that it's true. Your belief fuels your magic. So believe."

Harry followed his every move, enraptured.

"Step two. Channel your magic and cast the spell. Let the pure energy leave you." Breathing in, Sirius glanced towards the pit, keeping his eyes trained on his target as he exhaled. "Step three. Push it in. Heat them up."

He flicked his wand towards the pit. "Incendio!"

The entire pit erupted with bright, crimson flames, and Sirius took a step back, visibly satisfied by the display. "There. Now you try."

Nodding, Harry focused his will upon the air at the very tip of his wand. A familiar surge of energy rushed down his arm through the wooden tip, but Harry didn't let that deter him from his focus.

Focus on the particles. Heat them up.

"Incendio!"

Energy flowed out, and a thin whip of flame struck the walls of the pit before flickering out.

"Try again," his tutor suggested.

Waving his wand again, Harry cast the spell, this time pouring a little bit more power into it. Once again, a thin tongue of flame shot out of his wand and illuminated the pit. The power was there, and he could feel the heat from the flames. And yet—

"Incendio!"

Another flame shot out, this one a bit thicker than the previous. But before he could yell in victory, the fire flickered out and died.

"INCENDIO!"

No matter how many times he tried, it just didn't work.

"INCENDIO!"

Stupid flame charm! Just what the hell was wrong with him?! Why couldn't he blast a bloody flame charm when he had—

"Harry—?"

"INCENDIO! INCENDIO! INCENDIO!"

It was the same. Every single time. The spell either came out as a thin stream that lasted for three to four second, or a single bout of thicker flame, lasting only half as long. And no matter what he did, he could feel something within him fighting back. Something that just didn't want to cast Fire. Something that was clearly a part of him, and yet—

"Harry!"

Was there no end to his misery? First the wand, then the graveyard, and now this. Ollivander had told him that his wand was powerful. But what good was that power if he couldn't even cast a bloody fire spell? He could already see the bright red DREADFUL plastered across the top of his OWLs, dashing any chance he had at becoming an Auror. He was—

"HARRY!"

"What?!" he snapped back.

"You're shaking," Sirius softly replied, his eyes filled with concern.

And just like that, the moment was broken. Harry stepped back, staring at his trembling hands. The world around him seemed to flicker from grayscale to normal, and then back again. His own hands, his wand, even Sirius— everything seemed so transitory. It was like he knew they were there, and yet, they weren't.

Or maybe— maybe he wasn't—

"What's," he croaked, his throat feeling like rubble and broken glass, "what's happening to me?"

"Breathe," Sirius whispered. He was standing close, incredibly close, and yet he maintained a tentative distance from actually touching him. "Breathe, Harry. You need to maintain a calm mind."

Calm. Harry exhaled aloud. Yes. Calm. I'm calm. Anything else, I'll just filter it right through me.

The next ten seconds were spent in silence, only intermittently broken by deep breaths.

"Do you think you can continue?" Sirius asked, a strange reluctance coloring his tone.

"Ye—" he cleared his throat. "Yeah. I think."

"Alright, but let's not go overboard."

Overboard. He supposed that was a polite way of describing how he'd completely freaked out over being unable to do a single spell. But on the bright side, the building was still standing and not on fire. He'd count that as a victory in his book.

"You're making faces again, Harry."

"I'm hopeless! I can't even do a simple fire spell anymore."

"Don't' be like that. One hard day can never break the winner in you."

Harry snorted. "Winner? All I've done lately is lose. First my wand, and now this… it's like…"

"Like nothing," Sirius snapped. "Your father fought off Voldemort. Your mother sacrificed herself for you. Mine? My mother cruciated me when I refused to be a bigot. My father watched me getting tortured with a smile on his face. I fought and bled for the Light Side and despite that, people never saw past the Black name. They called me a dark wizard when they thought I wasn't looking. And even then, I rose to become a Hit-Wizard Captain at just twenty one. You know how? Because the difference between successful people and others is how long they spend feeling sorry for themselves."

Harry staggered.

"Yes. You've had a bad past, but you've a bright future ahead. Yes, your wand is no more, but you've got a new one just as fine. Yes, your magic is wonky, but you've an entire summer to be just as good if not better than what you were."

Harry looked down. Sirius was right. He really was being his own enemy here. He was getting too caught up in the problems of his past and ignoring the solutions the future was giving him.

"Harry," Sirius replied, his voice now lowered, "I believe in you. If you can't believe in yourself, believe in me that believes in you. So what if you're facing issues with fire? For all I know, you'll be great with ice."

Harry blinked.

"Yeah. Let's try it. You're familiar with the Glacius charm?"

"The ice spell?"

"The freezing spell," His godfather clarified. "Depending on the power and intent, it can be used to create a variety of effects, ranging from a gust of cold wind to outright chunks of ice. There isn't much wand movement involved either, not unlike the Incendio charm, so simply point and speak the incantation. And remember," he wagged a finger, "you are not conjuring ice. You're—"

"Dragging out the heat," Harry finished, his arm already in motion. "Making it colder."

He flicked his wand towards the stone pit.

"GLACIUS!"

Then, it happened.

Harry reached into himself to gather power for the spell, and instead found himself drenched by it. It was like jumping into a stream of icy water in winter— torturous and agonizing, but at the same time, brisk. Before he knew it, an arctic howl was promptly followed by a stream of air suddenly condensing into liquid, and then an explosion of frost took place in the pit, vanishing whatever flames remained at the bottom. The air became a solid bank of fog, an eerie rolling mist.

For several seconds, he waited for the mist to disperse, standing there tensely as it was swept away by the remnants of the gale he had called forth.

The pit was still there. But that was all it was.

Sirius, curious as ever, took a step forward and laid a single finger onto the now-frozen stone pit.

It shattered. Thousands of tiny, grizzly icy chunks exploded all over the floor like frozen shrapnel. Even the largest of them, Harry absently noticed, was probably smaller than a fingernail.

"Hmmph!" Sirius said loudly with an almost bored expression. "Called it!"