Apprentice Potter
Explanations
By Draco664
Explanations
The cheers and jeers generated by the crowd during our duel silenced as soon as Malfoy's hand was blown off. The only sounds in the clearing were the ferret's faint sobs and the sound of the few remaining mahogany wand splinters falling to the ground. In a sort of daze, I walked over to where Malfoy lay, whimpering and barely conscious, and crouched down beside him. Blood was running freely from the stump of his wrist.
With a quick tear, I ripped a piece of cloth from Draco's robes and tied it tightly around his forearm as a tourniquet. The blood loss slowed to a trickle.
"Um, Harry? What-?" asked Hermione, sounding very distant, and probably ready to faint.
I held up a hand. "Later. Actually, Blaise? 'Mione? Would the two of you mind taking Draco here to Madam Pomfrey? The sooner the better, I'd say." I looked up at the group of Slytherin students who arrived at the park with Malfoy. "She'll be able to repair his hand if you get him there quickly enough," I said confidently, sounding much surer than I was. I felt a sort of dual hope that he could both be fixed and that he couldn't be. "I'd take him myself, but I'd like to have a chat with his friends. Before they bugger off."
At my soothing words, the crowd let out its collective breath and began babbling amongst itself. Most discussions centred on miming an exploding hand, complete with sound effects. Blaise and Hermione shot each other a look. Hermione was about to complain, but a single smirk from Blaise both closed her mouth and set her determination. The pair nodded, and after a few seconds of first aid to staunch the blood flow further, they picked him up and half-led, half-dragged him away. Well, quarter-led, three-quarters-dragged him away at any rate, through an accommodating gap in the crowd.
"You know, I'm beginning to realise just why Snape is the bastard he is," I said absently, watching them go.
I turned to the crowd, noting that most of the younger students were still silent in shock after the events of the duel. "Ever since I arrived at Hogwarts, Snape has blatantly favoured his own house. He's ignored their rule-breaking, fed their indulgences, protected them from the consequences of their actions, pampered them all throughout their anti-social behaviour, and for the most part has assisted in making Slytherins pretty much universally hated throughout the school."
I looked over at the large group which had accompanied Malfoy. "And now I know why he does it. He is basically sacrificing you to Voldemort so that Dumbledore can win."
A few questioning sounds spread through the crowd, but I shouted them down. "Think about it!" I said loudly, gesturing towards the pathetic figure being helped away between two witches. "That... is a Malfoy. A family that has always been associated with Dark Magic, a family Voldemort sees as one of his most faithful. Ever since the Dark Lord returned, Draco has been taunting my friends and I, claiming that when Voldemort takes over, we'll all be killed." I looked down at my feet, shook my head and snorted. "Well, if this is the best of the next generation of Death Eaters, then we sure as hell don't have anything to worry about. Snape has got these idiots believing that they are invulnerable; that they are invincible. Yet they continually need to hide behind his skirts."
There were a few muffled laughs, probably from those who were in Remus' class when he showed us the boggart. The image of Snape in Neville's grandmother's clothes could still bring a smile to my lips. "Well, Voldemort doesn't take to failure kindly. He left eleven of his Death Eaters to be captured by the Ministry because they failed him. If the Dark Lord is forced to rely on the current crop of Death Eater progeny, then there is simply no way he will achieve his goals, simply because he will be left with the crappiest bunch of henchmen in the entire history of goonery."
The laughs were louder this time, but shorter, as a great many people in the crowd had the humour they found in the situation overtaken, frowned and began to think on what I'd just said. "Just imagine the scene!" I called out, my voice gently building in volume. "Voldemort tells Draco to go and kill some muggle-born witch, say, oh, Hermione Granger. So far, every time he's confronted her at school, either Snape has saved his arse from a good hexing or he's run away after she slugged him one. So Draco, while dressed all in black with a white mask, confronts 'Mione and guess what? She doesn't run away!" I exclaimed with a false tone of surprise in my voice. I even held my fingers up to my mouth to emphasise the point. "Even worse, she fights back!"
The laughter grew. "As a matter of fact, she blocks his spells as easily as I've done here, and then curses him all the way back to Voldemort's lair. What does this prince of cunning, this, this paragon of blood-purity do?" I began prancing around in an effeminate manner, waving my arms around. "Master, please! Sa-aaa-aave me! She's got a wa-aaa-aaand!"
Some applause accompanied the laughter this time. I stopped prancing and waited until it subsided. "Snape has been carefully preparing those most likely to join the Dark Lord to be complete and utter failures. Crabbe and Goyle here need hourly instructions on not forgetting to breathe. Pansy still can't work out how to reverse a hex cast on her, and Malfoy's ego has been so pampered that he can't believe anyone would actually fight back in a duel. Although, after seeing their parents in action, I'm not really sure Snape's efforts were really necessary." I grinned at Ron, who was standing between Luna and Susan. "Ron? How many Death Eaters attacked us at the Department of Mysteries?"
He laughed. "Twelve!"
"How many of us were there?"
"Six."
"How many of us did they manage to kill?" I finished, throwing my arms out wide.
"NONE!" came the response, from more than one person in the crowd. There were a few smatterings of people shouting 'ZERO', but they quickly shut up after getting a few odd looks from the rest. You just can't get a good mob chant going when there are options in their responses.
"Yes! So exactly what are people afraid of them for?" I called out, drawing attention back to myself. "I've faced Voldemort a half a dozen times! He's so incompetent that he gave up on trying to kill me directly, and tried to get his follower's to do it for him."
I spun round to face the Slytherin contingent, who were shuffling and mumbling to themselves. In the group I could see at least six sons and daughters of the Death Eaters who were present at Voldemort's rebirth. "An entire dozen of those pure-blood wizards and witches. Supposedly the cream of the wizarding world. The pinnacle of what it means to be a witch or wizard. Yet not one of them was competent enough to kill even one of us. And you want to know what is the really ironic thing?" I asked as I walked up to the group. "Well? Do you want to know something about Voldemort that he's tried desperately to keep secret?"
I was almost nose-to-nose with Goyle, who stepped backwards to keep some distance between us. "Voldemort is a half-blood."
The laughter, applause and chatter ceased. I looked around at the shocked faces, a massive grin on my face. "You don't believe me? Voldemort went to Hogwarts fifty-odd years ago; as a student his name was Tom Riddle. His magical mother got pregnant to a muggle aristocrat, who wanted nothing to do with her. She died giving birth to Snake-face." I spun back and pointed towards the Slytherins, who were muttering and mumbling amongst themselves. "So the very man many of your families support, the man whose arse is wiped clean by your Death Eater parent's tongues, isn't even a pure-blood wizard."
"You're lying!" spat one Slytherin at the back of the group who found enough courage to stand up for his beliefs, so long as he could do it anonymously and from behind a big crowd.
I grinned at the group, probably looking quite insane, given the fact that I'd just ruined one of their number's ability to both hold pornography and wank at the same time. "Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was a Slytherin Prefect, and Head boy about fifty years ago. His name is an anagram for 'I am Lord Voldemort'. His wand was thirteen inches long, made of yew, with a phoenix feather core." My tone changed to be earnest and encouraging, not to mention patronising. "I tell you what. In the future, when Voldemort is casting the Cruciatus curse on you for failing whatever task he set, check out the wand he uses. The thirteen-inch yew wand with a phoenix feather core."
Most of the Slytherins were shuffling their feet. It was the best time for me to strike. I reached out and grabbed the front of Goyle's robes and pulled the much larger wizard's face down level with mine.
"Do you remember the Sorting Hat's song from last year? We need to unite, not separate. What Draco seems to think is that means is that he needs to keep the houses apart to allow Voldemort to win. Well, how's this for a different translation? The Sorting Hat wants all the students to have the best chance of living, and so is telling the Slytherins to join up with the other houses, because that way, most of you will survive the coming war, since we will be the winning side!"
I heard a fair bit of scoffing at that, but also quite a bit of mumbled acceptance. Things like, 'He's got a point,' and 'I didn't think of that'. I only heard it, mind you, because my entire vision was made up by Goyle's, less than pleasant, visage. His expression was one of extreme nervousness. Or perhaps concentration, to keep himself from pissing his pants. "Blaise has already proved that you don't have to be the big bad boogey-men to get respect at school. She's been accepted by all the other houses, and has been welcomed into the DA. She's learning new things, and teaching too. Gryffindors are learning how to be subtle, Hufflepuffs to be ambitious and Ravenclaws to be devious. We are all stronger for her being there. Do you actually think a pissy little bunch of bigoted, inbred, mono-browed, mouth-breathing intellectual cripples can win a war?" I pushed Goyle backwards, and he stumbled back into the group who kept him on his feet.
"Voldemort is going down. He just doesn't have enough competent followers at the moment. The only things going for him are an incompetent governing body and fear." I turned away from the Slytherins and faced the crowd. While mostly students, it did have a fair smattering of Hogsmeade locals. "Fear. That's all. He doesn't have many followers, he doesn't have more magical power than those on our side. He doesn't even have more experience, since he's been living as a ghost for the last thirteen-odd years.
"If he appears in the village, gather into a group and attack him. Curse him, hex him, jinx him. I guarantee he'll be so surprised that you didn't immediately run away that a small group of you will be able to take him down. Don't wait for someone else to protect you! I didn't! Stand up to the bully, punch him in the nose as hard as you can, and he'll leave you alone."
I ranted and raved for a while, bemoaning the fact that the wizarding world just seemed to want to wait for someone to save them. I preached about how simple it was to fight back against the Death Eaters, so long as you overcame your fear at seeing them.
The main body of Slytherins were sort of wordlessly hemmed in by the rest of the crowd, not letting them slink away. Some forced their way out, and left in a huff, but far more than half actually stayed and listened to what I had to say. I suppose after watching our duel, it would be hard to believe in purity of blood made you a better wizard. Of course, they could have listened just so they would know how to debunk any points I made in future. They were Slytherins, after all.
The applause I received when I finished speaking was intense, but both short and sporadic; most people were too busy being deep in thought, hopefully re-evaluating their pre-conceived notions, though in all probability they were still thinking about how the duel ended. The crowd, which at its largest would have been close to five hundred people, slowly broke up and drifted away. A fairly large group of Slytherin students cautiously made their way over to me, nervous at the looks they were getting from the DA members who took it upon themselves to stand behind me.
After a few seconds of hissed deliberation, a third year student was nominated spokeswizard, and cleared his throat. "Um, is it true you started a duelling club last year?"
I shook my head, and the group almost sagged. "We," I began, gesturing behind me, "started a club to practise the practical aspects of magical combat, not just duelling. We practised all sorts of spells, including a spell that can drive off a dementor. Last year we had about two dozen members." I turned back to face Ron. "How many are there this year?"
Neville coughed, attracting my attention. "Um, about eighty," he said, sounding embarrassed.
I blinked. "Eighty?"
Neville nodded. "All of the fifth, sixth and seventh year Gryffindors joined, and most of the upper class Hufflepuff and Ravenclaws too. Professor Wilkins told us to stop it, he wanted to be the sole judge of what we should learn, but that just made more people want to join."
A couple of months ago, I would have asked, "Is this Wilkins the new Defense Professor?", but Zab's reluctance to answer questions was making me hesitant to ask if I could work out the answer myself. I turned back to the Slytherin student. "Talk to Blaise about joining. I certainly don't have any authority now."
It was gratifying to note that only a couple of members of the DA vocally expressed surprise at my offer, but what surprised me was that Ron took them to task for it. "Hey? Didn't you just listen to him? We're stronger together than apart! Padma, you learned a spell from Blaise last week that tricked me in our last duel. You beat me for the first time! Now you don't want others to join?"
In the sudden silence I raised my eyebrows and gave him a sort of half smile, waiting for him to explain.
"Well?" he asked me, unabashed. "If Blaise decides to let them join, I've got no objections. I might even find a good chess player to have some games against," he finished, sticking his chin out.
My half smile turned into a full one. "Thanks, mate." If I could persuade Ron to set aside his prejudices, maybe I had a chance of opening the eyes of some of the Slytherins too. I turned back to the nervous speaker. "There you go. Speak to Blaise. The more people with different skills who join, the better everyone in the DA will be. You don't just join to learn. You join to teach too."
A few nods and mumbled "Thanks," signalled the end of the conversation, and the group drifted away. The student who spoke up bent over to pick something up off the ground, and ran back to me. "Um, Draco was using this," he said, holding out the doll the Slytherins were tossing around when they first arrived.
The doll was quite a good caricature of me. The oversize scar on the doll's forehead was scarlet, the glasses over its eyes were grotesquely thick. I chuckled at the baggy clothes it was dressed in; someone had gone to a lot of effort to make it accurate. I reached out, but hesitated before I touched it. I could feel a slight buzzing, a faint vibration. But the sensation wasn't physical in nature.
"Just a second," I said, drawing my wand. With a few quick passes and muttered phrases Zab taught me, the doll lit up, glowing a faint orange-brown. I gave the Slytherin a tight grin. "Malfoy was looking for me, wasn't he?"
The young wizard nodded, looking a little awed.
I turned back to Ron. "I think this helped him work out where I was. It has the same sort of enchantments as used by Messers. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs."
That cryptic statement brought a few questions glances from most of the people still hanging around, but I ignored them. Since there weren't any curses on the doll, and that at least four different people had held it at some point before the duel that I had seen, I reached out and took it. It thrummed a little like my holly wand did whenever I picked it up. "Ah, it's charmed specifically to me." I glanced up at him. "What's your name?"
The Slytherin bit his lip, looking even more nervous. "Um, Nathaniel Brunel. Draco did seem to know where you were. He even drank a potion before we came round the corner."
A potion? Why would he drink a potion before coming around? Ugh, stupid question. If it gave him an edge, he'd have swallowed basilisk venom. I frowned in thought briefly before a slow smile spread over my features. "A darkish-red potion? With thick, purple froth?"
Nathaniel nodded, looking even more surprised. His eyebrows were probably about to enter orbit.
"That explains so much. Thanks, Nathaniel."
The Slytherin nodded, and bolted. I tossed the doll to Neville. "Dumbledore might be interested in this."
The new Gryffindor prefect turned it over in his hands. "How do you use it?"
I shrugged, but thought for a second. "Hit it."
"What?"
"Punch it," I clarified.
Neville's expression was one of confused acceptance, and he lightly punched the doll in the stomach. He blinked in surprise. "Uh, that was weird."
"What?" asked several members of the crowd in unison. Now why couldn't they have had that sort of cooperation earlier?
"I, er, I sort of got the impression of what direction Harry was from me."
Susan looked from Neville to me, obviously not quite up to speed. "Why did you tell Neville to punch the doll?"
Luna spoke up. "Because that way, Draco could track Harry."
Ron punched me lightly on the arm. "Hey! What was the potion? How did you know what it was?"
I gave him a cheeky grin. "My Master and I are working to make a new potion. We've brewed a heap of other potions that have similar effects to try and work out how the new potion will react to modern ingredients. If Draco drank the one I think he did, then he came looking for a fight."
Ron frowned, Ginny punched me in the other arm, much, much harder than her brother. "You didn't answer!" she pointed out over my small yelp.
I chuckled softly, rubbing my left tricep. "Come on. Let's go to the Room of Requirements. I'll tell you there."
Once we'd left the main group behind in Hogsmeade, the walk back to Hogwarts was peaceful, even relaxing. Even though it had been an accident, shredding Malfoy's hand did send a few tingles of schadenfreude down my spine.
Ron was quite happily rambling on about Quidditch, complaining that having been made Captain, he had to do all sorts of paperwork. I had no idea that one of the House Quidditch Captain's duties was to liase with McGonagall to make sure each team member's marks were not being affected by their time spent training.
I looked back at the other five in the group, making sure they were out of earshot, and lowered my voice so only Ron could hear me.
"That wasn't the only reason you wanted the Slytherins to join the DA, was it?"
Ron's expression was momentarily one of confusion, but he quickly caught up with the change in conversation topic. "Nope. You know how I've dreamt being all the different Death Eaters?" he asked, surreptitiously tapping his forearms.
I nodded.
"Well, they knew exactly how to manipulate us. You didn't see them when they went their separate ways, but in their minds, they could predict our reactions, well, my reactions anyway. You frustrated the hell out of them," he chuckled, a proud look on his face. "Anyway, Hermione told me how you knew Blaise was listening at the door at your party when you went to talk to her. I thought that it was really cool, even if it was sort of a Slytherin-ish thing. I thought about it for a while over the rest of the holidays, and figured that if you trusted Blaise, then I should too."
"What has she taught you so far? Was I right about what I said?"
Ron made a face and tilted his head from side to side. "Sort of. But it wasn't Blaise who taught me to be more sneaky."
"Really? Then who?"
He chuckled softly. "You, idiot."
"Huh?"
Ron shook his head. "I just told you I spent the rest of the holidays thinking about how you could read someone else's actions. Well, the night before we came back to Hogwarts Bill and Fleur came around to visit, and Bill challenged me to a game of chess. Normally when we play one game can take hours, but he was really keen for a game, and I thought he was probably going to be really aggressive. So instead of thinking about the best moves he could make, I assumed he would make attacking moves."
I raised my eyebrows at Ron's pause. "Well?"
"I beat him inside of ten minutes."
I sort of coughed and laughed at the same time. "He can't have been pleased with that!"
Ron shook his head, but had a massive grin. "Nope. So he challenged me again. That time, he was cold and calculating, determined not to make the same mistakes, so I thought about what sort of moves he'd make in that mood."
"And you beat him again?"
A nod. "In fifteen minutes."
"Nasty," I offered.
"The third game we had only lasted ten minutes too, and it frustrated the hell out of him. He seems to think that I'd suddenly become a Grandmaster."
"So you're OK with other Slytherins joining the DA?"
Ron shrugged. "So long as Blaise vouches for them, I don't have a problem. I even think it will be a good thing. Mind you, she and Susan are getting along really well. Too well. It's scary watching them giggle and then look over at me."
I couldn't help but laugh at that. "You and Susan are getting on all right then?"
He blushed slightly, but nodded. "Yeah. At your party I was sort of ready to watch all the girls trip over themselves to get your attention, like usual," he said, not unkindly. "But after what happened at the Ministry got out, I'm famous for being something other than the Boy-Who-Lived's best friend. Susan wasn't the first to snog me at your party, but she told me she had a crush on me before all that stuff happened."
I nodded. "I'm happy for you, mate," I said as we approached the castle.
With the majority of the students over third-year in town, Hogwarts itself was very quiet. Even so, I had a specific destination in mind, and I didn't want to be interrupted.
"Ron? Have you got the map?"
"Er, not on me," he said, blushing. "Didn't think I'd need it in town."
I suppressed a little sigh of frustration, and shrugged. "No worries," I said as we entered the main doors. "I'd just have preferred to have it, you know, to avoid-"
"Who?" came an unwelcome voice from the shadows on one side of the hall.
This time, I did sigh. "You, idiot," I said, echoing Ron's words from earlier.
Snape emerged from the shadows, drifting like a dementor across the marble floor. "Members of the public are not permitted in Hogwarts without an escort, Potter," he snarled, his dark eyes glittering malevolently.
I gestured over my shoulder with my thumb towards Neville. "What's he, a cooked snail? Prefects are permitted to escort people around Hogwarts."
"He needs permission, Potter."
I'd had enough. "Right, well, piss off to the old man's office, I'm sure he'll let you have a cry on his shoulder at not being able to take points from me. He may tell you that Neville has permission to escort me around, or he may not, but by the time you get back we'll be gone and you sure as hell won't be able to find me again."
He hissed through his teeth. "I am no longer obliged to protect you, Potter. And accidents can happen. To you, they appear to happen quite often."
"Assaulting a member of the general public can't be condoned by the Governors," I said without a trace of fear. After all, when you've plastered someone to a wall, it's not difficult to understand why you no longer have any fear of them.
A flicker passed in front of the greasy git's eyes, but he buried it well. "Hm, you have not changed. Just as always, you are an egotistical prima donna. Now, more than ever, you are a danger to every one around you. I was going to give you a warning, but now, I think I'll let you discover what awaits you for yourself," he said with glowing anticipation.
I rolled my eyes. "Let's see. Draco, the bouncing ferret Malfoy has some method of divining my location when I'm nearby, and has brewed a potion that acts like pure magical adrenaline. Actually, he probably stole it from the infirmary, since I doubt he has the skill to brew it himself." I looked Snape up and down. "At least, not without you holding his hand. He plans to confront and beat me into submission in front of a crowd, proving once and for all that he can actually do something other than bully, strut around taking points and smirk."
Snape was a far too skilful spy to react to my words, and indeed, not a single flash of anything but hatred appeared on his hawkish features. But I could sense the sudden change in his demeanour. "So, one of my Slytherins warned you. Pity. I would have loved to have seen your expression when you faced off against someone prepared for you."
Oh, this was going to be beyond satisfying. "You're not exactly, shall we say, up to speed on current events, are you?" I smirked.
Again, nothing behind the eyes, but the temperature changed, and his tone got much colder. "We'll see."
My friends behind be were having trouble keeping their composure. "Yes, you shall see. Especially if you go and visit the Hospital wing. I'm sure it will prove... illuminating."
He glared at me for a few long moments, before finally asking, "What have you done?"
I shrugged, and remained silent, the biggest grin I could make on my face. Finally, with a hiss of frustration, he spun and stalked away in the direction of the Hospital wing.
I heard Neville let out a breath he had obviously been holding. "Merlin, Harry! He's going to be furious with you."
"Don't care," I nonchalantly replied, and began making my way up the stairs.
Neville, Luna, Ginny and I sat around in comfortable armchairs in the Room, waiting for the others to get back. Ron and Susan had gone to Gryffindor Tower to get the Map, so they could locate Hermione and Blaise, and bring them here. Ginny was shifting in her seat, fidgeting wildly. Luna sat dreamily with a simple daisy she had picked between her fingers, spinning back and forth. Neville sat silently, his cheek resting on his fist.
"Bloody hell, where are they?" sighed Neville.
I couldn't help but be surprised. "Nev? I think that's the first time I've ever heard you swear."
"What, you can get away with it but I can't?" he said sourly.
I laughed out loud. "By all means, swear away until the air turns blue."
Before he could respond, the door swung open, revealing the four remaining members of the group. Hermione and Blaise stormed in, noses held high. Obviously they've been in deep discussion about something. Susan was glancing tentatively from one to the other, while Ron's expression appeared to be one of mild disappointment. I was willing to bet that he'd been highly entertained by the two girls.
"Look, before we start, I want you all to know that I trust you. All of you," I clarified, placing no particular emphasis on the word 'all'. "Now that we are in a secure room and can't be overheard, I'll answer nearly all of your questions."
"Nearly all?" Ron said, frowning.
I sighed softly. "I can't, and won't, answer some questions about my education or my new teacher. You can ask, just don't be annoyed if I don't give you an answer, or at least give you an evasive one.
The group suddenly went sober. I looked around at their faces. One Hufflepuff, one Ravenclaw, one Slytherin, and four Gryffindors. Hermione looked around, bit her lip, and spoke up. "Harry, what did you do to Malfoy? I've never heard of that spell before."
I gave her an amused look. "You've been desperate to get me here for months now; you've been bursting at the seams with questions, and the first thing you want to ask me is what I did to the ferret? Why? So you can blow off his other hand if he annoys you?"
Blaise snorted in a not-really-trying-to-repress-her-laughter kind of way. Hermione shot her a death glare before turning back to me. "No, of course not. But Madam Pomfrey doesn't think she will be able to fix his hand."
Oddly, I didn't feel apprehensive at that. "Really?"
Blaise interrupted. "What Granger is leaving out of that sentence is the word 'fully'. She doesn't think she can fully fix his hand."
"Shut up, Zabini!"
"'Mione? Is that true?" I asked, more amused than anything that she was implying something else.
"Well, yes. It's the same thing, surely."
"I thought you were smarter than that, Granger."
Hermione drew in a deep breath, and I realised I had to act. With a flick of my wand, I cast a silencing charm over the pair. "Kids, if I have to stop this car..."
Hermione instantly went red and looked embarrassed, but Blaise just looked confused. So did the others in the room. Muggle studies doesn't go into phrases as deeply as it should.
"Never mind. Look, if I take off the charm, will you stop arguing?"
Both witches cast glares at each other, but nodded. I wondered if I could hold them to that promise forever.
"Now, 'Mione, I suspect Blaise will suggest that even without a fully repaired hand, he will still be able to use it to some degree, so it isn't as bad as you made out." I turned to face Blaise. "Blaise, I suspect Hermione wanted to point out that he will only be able to use his hand to some degree, so it is worse than what I made out."
Both girls opened their mouths to reply, and both shut them at the same time.
I suppressed a laugh. "Good," I said, and removed the charm. I leaned back in the chair and addressed the entire group. "Now, before you all go crazy, you know I'm in an apprenticeship. My new teacher has been showing me a few things that aren't strictly taught here. In deciding exactly what he needed to start with, he tested me and my magic. He found that I've got a pretty decent amount of raw power, but as I'm just coming into it, my control is a little off."
"Yeah, we noticed," smirked Ron. "I think the whole of Hogsmeade did."
"Thanks, mate," I said dryly. "He decided that the best spells to teach me to start with were spells that took strength to cast, and were not precision-based."
Hermione shifted in her seat, still not satisfied. "You said you were experimenting with a new form of magic," she said almost accusingly.
I waved her statement away, despite Blaise's sudden interest. "That's in the afternoons. We started experimenting with it all day to begin with, but I couldn't keep that up, you saw what I was like after a full day of it. So now, I'm learning auror-like stuff in the morning, and we are practising the other magic stuff in the afternoon."
"Ron and Neville exchanged looks. "Um, Harry? You've found a new form of magic?"
I shook my head. "Not exactly, but sorry guys, I can't talk about it. This is one of the things I'm not able to discuss with you. Yet."
Ginny was all but jumping up and down in her seat. "What spell did you use on Malfoy?" she asked loudly, displaying all the classic signs of an imminent trademarked Weasley Temper Outburst.
"It's a corruption of another spell." I paused, thinking hard. "Well, perhaps a modification, rather than a corruption. My teacher developed it himself as a way to disable a wizard without, well, harming him. It floods the opponent's wand with raw magic, but forces it the wrong way." I pointed towards Ron. "Your dad often messes around with muggle electronics. But after he does, they often start smoking and stop working, right?"
"Um, yeah," Ron said, wondering where this was going.
"Well, this basically short-circuits a wand; by pushing magic through the core the wrong way. Same sort of thing. It takes a fair bit of effort to pull off, let me tell you."
Ginny sounded almost disappointed. "So it doesn't blow up a wand normally?"
I chuckled softly at her expression. "Of course not. But the idiot had dosed himself with Potensavenenum beforehand."
"Potensa-whatsis?" asked Ron.
"Potensavenenum," corrected Blaise and Hermione in unison. Laughter from the rest of us surrounded their attempts to glare each other into submission. This was beginning to become a habit; one I'm not sure I was too happy with.
Susan leaned over and slipped her arm through his, giving Ron a wonderful view of her cleavage. "It's a medical potion, Ron. We brewed it in Advanced Potions last week. It's used to give patients a burst of magical energy if they've lost nearly all of their power, through magical disease, vampire bite or even just exhaustion through over-use."
Ron looked up from Susan's chest to me. "Ah, right. That magical adrenaline stuff you told Snape about. So, if Malfoy drank it just before a duel..."
I shrugged. "While not illegal, it's not exactly safe. Unless you're really strong to begin with, you're gonna to be horizontal and snoring twenty minutes after swallowing a dose. Like adrenaline, it will give you strength you didn't know you had, but it's fleeting, and when it runs out, you're stuffed."
Luna's attention on her flower faded, and she stopped spinning the daisy without noticing. "So that's why Draco's wand suffered. He was pushing too much magic through it before you cast your own spell."
"But aren't you worried at all that you destroyed Malfoy's hand? You may have crippled him for life!"
I sighed and shook my head. "No, 'Mione, I'm not. The idiot tried to get an advantage over me, and it was a direct result of that action that he lost his hand. People have been telling me forever that I take on blame for things not within my sphere of influence. Well, no more. And it feels liberating."
Blaise gave me an odd look. "But if Malfoy was pushing more power through it, wouldn't it have taken more power from you to cast the spell?"
I frowned, but nodded. "I suppose, but that was the first time I'd ever cast the spell outside of practise. I wasn't sure how much power to use."
Neville grinned. "I'd say you got the level about right."
"Yes, well spotted, that man," I said, trying to hide a grin.
Ron leaned back in his chair. "Well, can you teach us that spell? Sounds dead useful."
I chuckled to myself. "I suppose. But I'm sure you have more questions for me."
Hermione nodded. "Harry, why have you been so angry?"
This time, I sighed deeply. "It's a bit of a long story. I asked Dumbledore at the end of my first year here why Voldemort wanted to kill me. Why he wanted me dead. He refused to answer. Again, after Ginny, Ron and I came out of the Chamber of Secrets, he didn't tell me. Again and again, he kept that information from me."
I stared straight at a point in front of me, focusing on that to the exclusion of everything else, letting my voice run on autopilot. "If he'd told me about the prophecy, I think Sirius might still be alive," I said, trailing off, finishing the sentence in a whisper.
I blinked at the sudden silence, realising that they were still waiting for me to finish. "The prophecy that Voldemort wanted was stored in the Department of Mysteries. We found it first, because only I could take it down from the shelf. What's so stupid about it is that it was made by Trelawney."
Ron coughed, and laughed out loud. "Good one!"
Ginny looked at my face, at my eyes, then swallowed. "He's not joking, Ron."
Ron kept laughing, but it sounded forced. "Yeah, right. That blind bat couldn't pick her nose if she tried, let alone the future."
I looked up at Ron. "Remember in our third year? She made a prophecy then, about Wormtail returning to his master."
Ron winced, remembering that night all too well. "Well, all right."
"Trelawney was having an interview with Dumbledore for the Divination Professor's post. She was staying at the Hog's Head. He was about to turn her down when she went into a trance and spouted the prophecy."
"Wait! The Headmaster was the person who heard it made?" asked Susan.
Neville half stood. "That means that it isn't lost! Professor Dumbledore knows it!"
I nodded. "He showed me it in his penseive after we got back from the Ministry. I suppose it was a pretty cool thing to happen in an interview for the post of Divination Professor. She got the job and the chance to traumatize the student body from third year up."
Luna was still twirling the daisy in her fingers. "How did the Dark Lord find out about the prophecy then?"
Nearly all the others reacted in surprise at her question. "Part of it was overheard. I never found out which one of Voldemort's goons was there, but he got tossed out of the Hog's Head halfway through the prophecy. Missed the last bit. The most important bit."
Blaise leaned forward. "Well? What does the prophecy say? Does it say if the Dark Lord will be defeated?"
I shrugged. "It's not that sort of prophecy."
Ginny's knuckles were white from gripping the arms of her chair so tightly. "Harry," she said warningly. "What in Gryffindor's name does the prophecy say?"
I shook my head. "I shouldn't recite it. If you don't know it, you can't divulge it."
There was a chorus of disagreement. I sighed and waited for the objections to subside. "Basically, the prophecy says that one person, born at the end of July to parents who defied Voldemort three times would have the power to defeat him."
I let this sink in. Six of my friends almost erupted with glee as it hit them, one sat still and went very pale.
I nodded sadly to the silent Neville. "What are you all so excited about?" I asked the rest evenly.
Hermione clapped her hands. "Harry, don't you see? It's you!"
I raised one eyebrow and remained silent. One by one, the rest of the group quietened down, confusion evident on their faces. "No, it doesn't describe me," I said.
"What?" came a chorused reply.
I closed my eyes and held out a hand, tilting it from side to side. "Well, it doesn't just describe me."
Hermione and Ginny exchanged confused looks. "What do you mean?"
I looked over at Neville, who was looking frightfully ill. "I mean that there are two people in the room who it could refer to."
Ron looked from me to Neville and back again, looking comical. "What do- Do you mean- Neville?!"
Neville swallowed a couple of times and nodded. "That could mean either of us," he said.
I nodded. "What Voldemort's thug didn't hear, was the rest. It basically said that he would mark the child as his equal." I lifted my fringe. "Neville doesn't have Voldemort's mark."
Neville sagged as relief shot through him, an almost palpable field of relief flooded out from him.
Susan again clapped her hands. "So it is you! You're going to beat him!"
I clenched my eyes closed, and shook my head, trying to keep the rage I felt when I first heard those unwanted words from flooding me. "No. The last part doesn't say that. It doesn't say that at all."
Hermione leaned over and took my hand in hers. "Then what?"
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, keeping my eyes closed. "Basically, it says that either I will kill him, or he will kill me. Murder or be murdered."
The silence that followed that announcement was stifling. I slowly raised my eyelids, and looked into the shocked and frightened faces of my friends.
"You have what, a fifty-fifty chance?" Ron asked hopefully.
I snorted derisively. "You think even any of the seventh-years would have a one-in-two chance against Dumbledore? I was there when he took out a room full of Ministry personnel, including aurors, without any effort. He faced down Voldemort and his Death Eaters at the Ministry, and drove them off without raising a sweat. Do you think I'd have even odds against him? Or even against Flitwick? No, Ron, I don't have a fifty-fifty shot at killing the bastard.
"What I do have is a incompetent old geezer who has interfered in my life since my parents were killed, who has lied, manipulated and kept me ignorant of what fate has in store for me." Throughout my rant, my voice rose in volume. "He's made decisions that he was not qualified, required, authorised or even asked to make. He took away everything Sirius had left that night, leaving him nothing by revenge to live for!" I shouted.
It was with almost amusement that I noted that I was angry, and that the trembling magical potential in the air was frightening my friends. With a mental shove, I brought my anger back under control. "Sorry about that."
Hermione looked as though she was about to burst into tears. "That's why you've been so mad at everyone?"
I nodded. "Being responsible for Sirius' death was part of it. Discovering that Voldemort had manipulated me made me so mad. But finding out that Dumbledore had been doing it too, and for much longer, well..." I took a deep breath to calm down, rather than finish the sentence and want to blow something up.
"Anyway, everything just built up to a head, and I just couldn't take it any more." I stopped and frowned in thought for a moment. "Actually, that's not quite right. I decided I wouldn't take it any more. Look, all through last year I was considered a freak. It was just like our second year all over again. At King's Cross, Moody, your dad, Tonks and Remus threatened the Dursleys to make them treat me nicer. I could have used that sort of warning when I was two. Then there was the Wizengamot's letter, the aurors response to my first surge, it all just kept building."
I looked down to see that even though I was trying to be calm, my knuckles were almost white and I was gripping the chair almost hard enough to break it. Luna stood and calmly walked over to me, wordlessly handing me the daisy that she had been playing with. I took it just as wordlessly, and resumed her task of spinning it between my fingers. In seconds, I felt my body relax and let go of the anger. It really was a stress relief.
I turned to Blaise. "You know, after his poor daddy was put in prison, I'd have thought that Malfoy's influence on Slytherin house would have been killed off."
Blaise shook her head. "No. He turned seventeen in August and is now of age, and so legally he has access to the entire Malfoy fortune. With that amount of money, you can bribe a hell of a lot of people. Not to mention the fact that he has been claiming that his father and the other Death Eaters escaped before they'd even spent a night in Azkaban and the Ministry has been covering it up."
"Are there a lot of people buying that?"
Blaise shrugged. "There are a lot of people who are acting like they believe it." She gave me a smirk. "We are Slytherins, you know. We want to be on the winning side."
I started nibbling on a thumbnail. "So, the best way to destroy his standing is to convince people that we are the winning side," I muttered. "Perhaps blowing Malfoy's hand off was a good thing."
Silence descended on us, and in that moment, the door to the room swung open. I didn't need to look to know that it was Dumbledore in the doorway.
"Ah, here you all are. I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak to you, Harry."
"No, you want to speak to me. I'm quite sure the world will survive if you don't."
The old man tilted his head in acknowledgement. "As you wish. Would you care to follow me to my office?"
I shook my head. "There is nothing I want to hear from you. As soon as I leave this room, I'm leaving Hogwarts."
Dumbledore glanced around the room at the apprehensive looks we were getting. He looked far older than I'd ever seen him. "Are you prepared to compromise?"
"Do you know the meaning of the word?" I snapped.
"I will allow you access to Hogwarts and the Room of Requirement at any time. You will also be welcome here to go about without an escort at any time. I only ask that you come and speak with me now."
I leaned back in my chair, looking over my shoulder at him. "OK, but I'll speak with you for ten minutes, on the proviso that you listen to what I say, and not make any assumptions."
Dumbledore took a deep breath. "An hour, Harry. I'm not sure I can tell you everything in just ten minutes. I promise to listen to everything you say, and you are welcome to leave if I do not."
I narrowed my eyes, thinking. "Half an hour."
With a sigh, Dumbledore nodded. "Agreed."
Fawkes sat serenely on his perch, swinging his feathered tail side to side gently. The scarlet and gold phoenix looked down at me with an unmistakably sad expression, which surprised me on two counts. Firstly, I could hardly believe that Dumbledore would bother telling his familiar the detailed difficulties between us, leaving aside the obvious question on whether or not Fawkes would understand him. Secondly, I was shocked that I could actually decipher the expression on a bloody magical turkey. I gave the bird an even look, silently daring it to pity me. Fawkes blinked, and swung his head away.
The old man sat down behind his overcrowded desk, knees and chair creaking, probably to put some distance and a few disposable objects between us. I can't imagine he'd have left out the more expensive items this time.
I simply sat still, my mental shields raised, my face blank, trying to calm the chaotic mess of emotions tumbling around in my stomach. I had made a mistake the last time I spoke with him, and I needed time to think about the repercussions of that error. Until I'd done that however, I needed to give him the benefit of the doubt. Even so, I wondered what tactic he would use here.
Would it be the kindly grandfather act? 'Harry, we've all been worried about you. Please tell us-'
Or would it be the distant authority figure? 'Mr. Potter, members of the general public are not permitted-'
I suppose there was an off chance of him being intimidating. 'Harry, I've indulged you enough! It's time-'
Nah, but it could be some sort of comrades-in-arms act. 'The time has come, we'd like you to join-'
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, looking older than I remembered. "You will be pleased to know that Mr. Malfoy's condition has been stabilised. He is not in any mortal danger," he stated without inflection.
"Ah, the caring Headmaster approach. I didn't think of that one," I said absently. I wasn't sure he was capable of pulling it off.
His bushy eyebrows converged above his nose. "Approach?"
I grunted something that vaguely sounded like agreement. "I was wondering which one you'd take," I said around a yawn. My blasé tone was getting to the old bastard. He wasn't used to people who didn't care what he had to say.
Dumbledore's eyes lowered for a moment. "Are you not even a little concerned for a fellow student? You may have crippled him for life."
Fellow student, eh? I let that one pass for now, maybe it would lower his guard slightly if I didn't attack everything that came out of his mouth. "Nope," I said promptly, if not excitedly. "If Madam Pomfrey can't fix his hand, he can cut off what's left and get a new one, as long as he likes it in silver," I replied absently, shrugging.
Dumbledore swallowed, still reserved and guarded. "Somehow, I don't think Tom will be kindly disposed enough towards young Mr. Malfoy to comply."
I shrugged, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes, not even caring enough to bother saying anything. I started drumming my fingers on his desk. In trying to project a 'not my problem' expression, I forced him to change the topic.
He took a deep breath at my efforts to provoke him, obviously not expecting how little effort I was putting into the conversation. "I'm truly devastated at how far our relationship has disintegrated around us, Harry."
I raised an eyebrow and gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. "We didn't have a relationship. You used me for you own purposes."
"That has never been the case, Harry," he replied sternly. "With your new-found powers of observation and deduction, even you can see that that was beyond exaggeration."
I shrugged. "Maybe, but a relationship goes both ways. I've got nothing from you besides manipulation, pain, suffering and more manipulation."
"Since your birthday, I have tried to give you room to work this self-pity out of your system. I have tried to respect your wishes for more freedom."
"But not enough to respect my wishes to stay away from me," I pointed out.
He gave a deep sigh. "I'm more sorry than I can say, but circumstances have forced my hand."
I mumbled that sounded like, "Yeah, right," but didn't express interest in any way. I even glanced at my watch and mumbled, "Twenty-six minutes."
He ran his fingers back and forth over his forehead. "Though many others would prefer I gave you as much time and distance as you require, I'm not convinced that would be in anyone's best interests. And since you are quite unsubtly informing me that my time is running out, I will say what needs to be said with no embellishments or distractions. You are turning dark, Harry. I cannot permit that. You need to return to Hogwarts where your friends can keep you grounded."
My breath almost caught in my throat, but I had enough presence of mind to cover the shock I felt. Slowly, I raised my gaze to look directly into the blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore and took a second to think of a rebuttal. "Really? What if my turning dark gave me the power the Dark Lord knows not?" I asked, not believing for a second either what I was saying or the fact that I was turning dark.
"I do not believe that is the case at all."
I casually tilted my head from one side to the other. "You really don't want to get into a discussion about your less-than sterling record at being correct in the past when it comes to me," I said, my voice carrying a hint of a threat.
The old man grumbled softly under his breath, and massaged his temples. "Harry, please, I ask you again, who is teaching you?"
I remained silent, the only sounds in the office were Fawkes' tail feathers rubbing against the bars at the back of his cage and the almost inaudible scratchings of the portraits listening in as hard as they could.
Dumbledore actually got frustrated. "Keeping silent is not going to prevent me from discovering your teacher's identity, Harry! I can not allow you to continue to learn such dangerous lore, not while you retain such anger with the world. There will be time enough for that once you've calmed down and matured. The young boy who you once were would never have been so blasé at the horrific wounds given to Mr. Malfoy."
"How many students got an 'O' on their defense OWL last year?" I asked softly, not prepared to be lectured on how I've changed over the years.
"Pardon?" he asked, looking bewildered.
"You heard me," I replied flatly, not prepared to do any more work than necessary in this conversation.
He swallowed, and cleared his throat. "Fourteen. A record this century."
I raised an eyebrow. "Want to bet that I could name them all?"
He remained silent for a few moments. "I believe you could. Besides Miss Zabini, each of the other students to achieve the feat belonged to your little club."
"So thirteen out of thirteen in the DA got an 'O'. How many people failed it?"
Again, he swallowed, though this time, it was because he didn't want to answer. "Too many. Also a record this century."
"I shudder to think how badly the Defense NEWTs went. So, a class in your school produced people incapable of defending themselves to an acceptable standard, but people I taught are able to survive despite being outnumbered two to one by Death Eaters, and you think I'm the one who's going dark?"
Dumbledore stood, trying intimidation by standing over me when intimidation by other means failed. It's a pity (for him, at any rate) that Zab has been teaching me about auror tactics in interrogation; I could recognise and ignore Dumbledore's amateurish attempts. "Harry, I have not crippled another student, attacked and rendered a Professor unconscious, or sought vengeance against those who wronged me in the press!"
I blinked slowly, and yawned theatrically. "You weren't attacked beforehand in all three instances."
Dumbledore lowered his head and stared at me over the top of his glasses. "Why didn't you simply incapacitate Mr. Malfoy? I know for a fact that you are skilful enough to do that."
"I did," I chuckled.
He slammed his palm down on his desk. "Damn it, Harry, this is no laughing matter! You could face charges over this!"
I let my head loll to one side and sighed. "Just as I expected. You didn't listen to what I said. Well, there goes your promise. I'm out of here." I rose to my feet.
A chorus of objections arose from the portraits, covering Dumbledore's response. "Wait. I did listen to you."
"No, you didn't. I told you one thing, and you assumed another. By the terms of our agreement, I'm leaving."
The open door swung shut with a muffled boom. I ran my tongue across the front of my teeth without parting my lips as I felt my anger slowly build. Not only was he breaking his promise, he was turning me into a prisoner. Not this time.
"Enlighten me then. What did I assume?" the old fart asked.
"Open the door," I said, lacing my words with anger, so he could not mistake my words for a simple request. "You promised."
"No," he said simply, proving that while he may be the most powerful wizard of the day, he wasn't exactly top of the class when it came to ethics. "Not until you tell me what I missed."
I drew my wand, and forced the split in my mind, so I could access my anger but keep part of my thoughts clear of its clouding influence. Almost instantly, I felt a brush against my shields. I wonder what he will think about the fact that I'm capable of keeping him out of my mind while incoherent with rage. "Fine. You asked why I simply didn't incapacitate the little toad. I replied that I did. And that was the truth," I hissed through clenched teeth. He'd have to trust me on that one, since I sure as hell wasn't going to let him near my mind enough to determine that for himself.
"Harry, I know of no spell that would maim someone in that way that could be used to incapacitate someone without injuring them," he said calmly, but he surreptitiously drew his own wand.
My face twisted with hatred at this incompetent moron's logic. "Well there's your problem, you damned mental cripple. You think the spell I used was supposed to maim him. You actually think I would deliberately blow someone's hand off." In the uncluttered part of my mind, I could sense the old man's confusion. I suppose it wasn't too hard to see why he thinks I have been turning dark. With the assumptions he was making, he was still coming up with some pretty absurd conclusions.
Something I would strive never to do.
He blinked. "What spell did you use?"
I hissed with frustration, whipped my wand up and aimed it at his own, forcing my anger to power the spell. "Everto veneficus!"
Despite the fact that Malfoy had artificially given himself more power, it took almost as much energy to cast the spell at Dumbledore's wand. At least he hadn't used it recently. At any rate, Dumbledore reacted too late, his wand hissed and spat, then seemed to, well, deflate, giving a huge long fart as its magic died. With a cry, he tried to hold the temporarily useless wand out of the way of my line of sight. "Harry! What have you done?"
I snarled. "A little modification on a spell designed to remove magic from cursed items I learned recently. It floods the core with magic, forcing it back through the wand the wrong way. And get this, you'll love it. It innnnncaaaaaapaaaaaciiiiitaaaaatesssss a wizard without harming them," I said, trembling with the effort of restraining my combination of anger and hate.
He stared down dumbly at his wand, gently waving it to and fro absently. Not so much as a spark jumped out. "You ruined my wand?" he asked dumbly, proving that besides ethics, he wasn't exactly in the upper percentiles when it came to intelligence either.
"Ollivander can fix it," I snapped. I made a tight fist with one finger extended and shook it at him. "And that's all it would have done to Malfoy's too, if he hadn't dosed himself with Potensavenenum before we duelled. His wand core overloaded with all the extra power he was pushing through it. Now open the bloody door. You've blown your chance."
He spoke again, and my anger at his continued refusal to open the door flared. "Destroying a wizard's wand is not something that should be taken lightly!"
With a snarl, I reached into my pocket and grabbed a handful of coins. "I grew up as a muggle because of you, you bloody bastard, so you'll have to get over the fact that I don't know things like that," I spat. Far more powerfully than necessary, I hurled them onto the old man's desk, knocking over a tub of ink and an odd looking desk ornament. He flinched and twisted to avoid the heavy metal coins from striking him on the rebound. "And here, go have Ollivander fix your wand. Now open the bloody door!"
"You were being rather cryptic, Harry."
My clenched fists actually began trembling. "You've been nothing but cryptic since before I even stepped foot in this damned castle. Now, for the last time, open the door or I'll blow it up!"
The door slid open, much to Dumbledore's surprise. The reason became clear when Snape barrelled up the stairway, an aura of fury surrounding the man like flies on a corpse. "You!" he thundered, drawing his wand and raising it at me. "What the hell did you do?"
Oh, this just couldn't be better. Despite Dumbledore's barked warning, I spat out the same spell and Snape's wand also joined the old man's in the 'temporarily useless' pile.
You know, since he asked what I'd done, he could hardly be angry with me for showing him now, could he?