Apprentice Potter
Head to Head
By Draco664
Head to Head
"Shall we see?"
My words hovered there in the air between us, like a verbal gauntlet waiting to be picked up. Waiting for my challenge to be accepted. Of all the things I could have said or done, from the expression of disbelief on the old fart's face, I'd guess that saying that was pretty far down the list.
He just blinked at the challenge, and stared back at me, his eyes betraying nothing. Except for a tiny flick-
Magic exploded from him, rushing towards me to fast to react to. To powerful to deflect. To fast to think of a defense.
I didn't need to do any of that. I already knew what I was going to do.
I forced my rage to flood out through me, to focus on my magic, and I screamed, "Legilimens!"
I grunted in reflex as Dumbledore's wave of power crashed into me, but not before my own mental assault had sliced through it and struck him. I knew the old man was powerful, and that his occlumancy defenses were probably the best on the planet. As my mind struck his own, I discovered that his mental shields were indeed as strong as a brick wall.
It didn't matter. Fuelled by my incandescent anger, my spell crashed through them like a tank.
Zab's lesson was right. The most effective attack is one your opponent does not know you can make. That was why my curse struck Bellatrix, when even Dumbledore had trouble hitting her.
The look of shocked surprise on his face etched itself into my memory, and I just knew that it would help keep me warm on cold nights for many years to come. His head rocked back from my blow, and I watched in slow motion as he fell to his knees. Though his mouth was open, I couldn't hear the scream.
A thing of great beauty it is, seeing an overwhelmingly powerful opponent being reduced to kneel before you.
Once inside his mind, I didn't hesitate. I wasn't there to take anything. I was there for only one thing.
I was there to make a deposit.
In the time it took for my body to crumble backwards and hit the floor, I dumped every feeling of helplessness, rage, betrayal and anger I currently felt into his mind.
The helplessness I felt when Sirius fell through the veil, knowing that no matter how powerful I was, or what magicks I mastered, I would never be able to reach back and rescue him.
The rage I felt at him for leaving me alone; alone once again, after only having him in my life for a few short years.
The betrayal I felt when no letters arrived from my friends in the last summer, and how much more intense that feeling was after discovering that it had been Dumbledore's order that prevented them from doing so.
The soul-scorching anger I felt towards Dumbledore, the night I destroyed his office, the night I discovered just how deep his treason had run.
But more memories flooded out of me.
Unbidden, the memory of being locked in the cupboard under the stairs for three days with a broken arm surfaced and jumped into his mind. I could almost feel the dull, throbbing ache. How the skin around my eyes was tight, from my dried tears. The way the oppressive darkness crowded in on me.
The memory faded, to be replaced by another.
Being punished for dropping Dudley's breakfast onto the floor after burning my four-year-old hand on the stove. How my protestations that I couldn't see the top of the stove meant nothing, and how I was soon in even more pain from the beatings.
The desperate need for someone who loved me, coming from a three year old. Seeing Dudley being coddled and pampered, feeling nothing by jealousy.
The feeling of loneliness as Dudley and the rest of my schoolmates departed for a school trip, leaving me to stay in class because the Dursleys wouldn't sign the release form for me. Wondering why the Dursleys wouldn't let me go with the rest of the class, since it didn't cost them anything.
Going hungry for a week, because I'd done some accidental magic. Feeling weak and lethargic from lack of food.
Even as my back struck the floor, leaving my lungs winded and me gasping, more memories surfaced. It was almost cathartic, pushing them all into Dumbledore's vulnerable mind.
Scene after scene from my life flashed forward and directly into Dumbledore's exposed mind. Something was directing the most profoundly disturbing moments from my life to rise and escape, diving deeply into Dumbledore's mind. Seeing it all happen again did nothing to quell my rage. Indeed, it kept me angry enough to keep a hole in his defenses.
Not angry enough though, apparently. After what felt like hours but was probably no more than a few seconds, at the edge of my hearing I heard him snap a couple of unfamiliar words, and my consciousness was abruptly and violently ejected from his mind. A sharp pain flared in the front of my brain as my thoughts rushed to compose themselves into some semblance of order.
I opened my eyes in an effort to seek out the old man, only to see two blurred images of him slowly stagger to his feet. "Impressive, Harry. But you-" he gasped.
As quickly as I could, I drew my wand and aimed its trembling point at him. "Stupefy!" I croaked, my own throat too dry to speak properly.
With a grunt of effort, Dumbledore swung his wand like a fly-swatter and batted my spell away. The obvious effort it took him alone told me he just how vulnerable he was at that instant. "Enough! You do not have a choi-" he began, before giving a little sigh and slumping forward to the ground unconscious. I blinked in an effort to focus my blurred vision. As quickly as I could, I raised one hand to straighten my glasses.
Dumbledore had landed face down on the irregular slate tiles, his glasses skewed on his face and cracked from the fall. Oddly, he was still on his knees, leaving his rather large backside sticking up in the air.
But it was who was behind him that truly captured my attention. Ron was standing behind the crumpled old man, the (now slightly bent) poker for the fire in a tightly clenched fist, with an expression of steely determination on his face. His chest was heaving, his nostrils white with anger.
That rather interesting tableau was maintained for all of three eternal seconds before Mrs. Weasley's explosion of indignation filled the air with recriminations. I flinched at the first shouted syllables, until I forced myself to remember that it probably wasn't directed at me.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley! How could you? How dare you?! I never thought I'd live to see the day when a child of mine attacked Albus Dumbledore!"
I struggled to my feet. "How dare he?" I asked incredulously, rounding on her. "You have the utter gall to invite a man into your house who attacked a guest, and you instantly blame Ron for defending me?"
Mrs. Weasley blinked, mentally changing gears. "Harry, pet, I'm sorry. I didn't know that Albus would-"
I didn't catch the rest of her apology, since I my trembling knees had given way, and I had slumped to the floor myself, completely exhausted.
At least three pairs of hands encircled me, supporting my shoulders, arms and body.
With their help, I struggled to my feet again. "Why don't you invite some Death Eaters, Mrs. Weasley? At least then you won't have to sit through some boring repartee before the fireworks." I said sourly.
She looked absolutely mortified. "Oh Harry. I'm so sorry. I didn't invite him here, I just called him through the floo to tell him that you were safe."
I rolled my eyes. "You didn't think that he would immediately pop around to see for himself?"
Mrs. Weasley looked down at her hands, wringing them tightly. "You don't understand, we've all been so worried about you." She looked up at me. "I'm sure he has the best intentions."
I snorted at that. "Yeah, I bet you do. Remind me again exactly what it is the road to hell is paved with?" I asked rhetorically, and looked around at the people holding me up. Hermione was on my left, Blaise on my right. "Thanks." I offered, but frowned. I could have sworn that there were more hands on me a few instants before.
Hermione nodded, her face contorted into an expression of self-recrimination. "I'm sorry Harry. I tried to distract him, but he wouldn't listen to me. He demanded to know where you were."
I raised my eyebrows at this, and gently disentangled myself from her. "What did you tell him?"
Hermione looked embarrassed. "I told him you were outside playing Quidditch, but he just turned and went straight to the fireplace."
Even in my drained state, I chuckled. "You are an awful liar, Hermione." I said, putting one hand on her shoulder for support; both physical for me and emotional for her. "Don't worry about it. And don't you ever change."
Relief rose from her like steam.
"Potter, we need to get out of here." said Blaise urgently.
A chorus of disagreements met this announcement. Ron was disagreeing the loudest, looking down at Dumbledore. It was easy to figure out what was on his mind.
"Don't worry Ron, if no one says anything, he'll just think that I tricked him. He doesn't need to know who stunned him." I said, a tired smile on my lips. "Unless you want him to." I looked around at the others, noting an absence.
"Where's Ginny?"
"Here." she replied, appearing at the base of the stairs. "You didn't seem to need my help getting up. I've got something for you."
She handed me a small box, which I almost dropped in fright as it trembled and bumped in my hands. "Open it when you get home."
Blaise frowned. "What is it?"
Ginny gave her a sly look. "Harry knows."
"I do?"
"You will."
"When?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "When you open it, Silly." she said with a smile. "Use it."
My brain hurt too much to try and figure out her circular logic, and Blaise tugged on my shirt. "Potter, we need to go now."
"OK," I yawned. "May we use some floo powder, Mrs. Weasley?"
Blaise shook her head. "Not by floo."
"Yes by floo." I said, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "He'll have some way of tracking portkeys." I said, gesturing towards the incumbent incompetent. "Once we are in a public place, we can use them."
"Go to my house, Harry." said Hermione. Both Blaise and I looked at her curiously. "I convinced my parents to have a floo system installed. It took a while, since it meant that they needed to build a fireplace, but when you look at all the benefits-"
I coughed to interrupt her. "Hermione? We need to know your floo destination's name."
"Oh." she blushed. "It's just 'Granger residence'."
I smiled at her. "Thanks, 'Mione."
~~~
Hermione ended up flooing to her home first, to ensure her parents didn't freak as two unfamiliar people entered their home in a flash of flame. Though I knew that the Grangers were at least willing to let Hermione go to Hogwarts, I wasn't entirely sure they were happy with the fact.
After all, if my daughter was turned to stone at school, I'd seriously consider other, less-dangerous, education establishments, though given recent events, a school set up next to a fusion plant built by and staffed with people suffering from Parkinson's Disease would be a safer choice than Hogwarts.
I must be getting better at floo travel, I thought to myself as I whizzed down the magical passage. After Moody made me take a very roundabout path to that pub, I was quite over my motion sickness.
I hardly had time to get dizzy when I was ejected out into a room. Quite a nice room too, at least from my point of view from the floor.
"You still haven't got used to floo travel, have you Harry?" said Hermione unhelpfully as she assisted me to my feet. I doubt I'd have managed it myself.
"You try it when you're about to collapse." I replied.
The fire flashed again, and Blaise stepped out. "Potter, we really need to get back. Once you get up off the floor that is."
I sighed, letting my head droop. "No. First we need to open Ginny's package."
Hermione frowned. "She said to open it when you got back home."
I exchanged glances with Blaise. "I'm not sure my host would be too pleased with me, bringing an unopened package into his home." I said carefully.
Blaise nodded. "He'd make Professor Snape look like Flitwick."
Hermione pursed her lips. "Are you staying with Professor Moody?"
Blaise and I chuckled. "Close." I said. I took out the small box and gingerly flipped the lid. I didn't really know if Ginny took after the twins or not.
An explosion of feathers and irritated twitting greeted the three of us. A tiny owl burst forth from the box where Ginny had rather unfairly contained it.
"Pig!" I snapped, waving my hands over my face. "Come here, you feathery git."
Blaise looked from me to Ron's pet. "What did you call that thing?"
"Pig. Short for Pigwidgeon. It's Ron's owl."
"Um, Potter, that thing doesn't look anything like a pig." She gave me a doubtful look. "It doesn't even really look like an owl. It looks like a mouse with feathers."
I watched as Pig fluttered around the room, still expressing his annoyance. "I know. It's more like an extremely energetic ball of dandruff." I said sourly, not having the energy to try and catch the pest.
It took Hermione and Blaise almost a minute to corner and grab Pig. By that time, a middle-aged gentleman had entered the room and was watching our antics with bemusement.
"I wasn't expecting you home today, sweetheart. Is this some magical ritual? Chasing after a bird and jumping on the furniture?"
"Daddy!" Hermione said, a warning tone to her voice. "Stop making fun of me."
The newcomer just smiled and let his shoulders shake a couple of times. "My apologies. Not a magical ritual. Got it. Um, may I ask why you are chasing a-, um, exactly what is it that you are chasing?"
"An owl. Ron's owl."
"Ah, this would be the famous 'Pig', would it?"
"Infamous, possibly." I offered.
Mr. Granger turned to me, looking up and down. "From Hermione's rather vivid descriptions, I'd guess that you are none other than Mr. Potter. John Granger, at your service." he said, offering his hand.
I took it with a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Do you mind if I sit down? I'm a little bit light headed at the moment."
"Be my guest, though you look a little more than light headed. Do you need a doctor?"
I shook my head. "Just rest."
"He's suffering from magical exhaustion, Daddy."
"I see. Not something covered in standard modern medical texts then." Mr. Granger replied, then turned to Blaise. "My dear, you don't have red hair, so I must assume that you are not a member of the rather extended Weasley clan. John Granger." he finished, offering his hand to Blaise.
"Blaise Zabini. I go to school with P-, I mean, Harry and Hermione."
They shook hands, Blaise looking decidedly unaccustomed to this sort of friendly welcome.
"I don't recall Hermione ever mentioning you. Not by name at any rate. Are you in any of her classes?"
Blaise nodded. "Potions, Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy."
Mr. Granger raised his eyebrows. "I suspect that means that you are in Slytherin then."
Blaise swallowed nervously, but nodded. "That's right."
Mr. Granger looked at her intently. "From Hermione's stories of school, I'd never have suspected that she would ever be friends from anyone from that particular house."
"We're not exactly friends," said Hermione darkly.
"She is my friend, however." I interrupted, not prepared to let anything happen here before we left. At my announcement, Mr. Granger relaxed, Blaise smiled and Hermione tensed. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Mr. Granger, but Blaise and I need to be going."
He looked surprised. "Are you sure? You may stay as long as you like."
Both Blaise and I nodded. "Thank you for your offer, and if you don't mind, I will take you up on it in the near future." I said politely. I turned to Hermione. "Could you send Pig back with an apology from me?"
Hermione nodded, but Blaise disagreed. "Hang on. We should take him with us."
I blinked. "Are you sure?"
Blaise nodded quickly. "If there was an owl that could slip anywhere unseen, it's this one. I'm sure the owner of where we are staying wouldn't mind at least us asking if we can use, um, Pig." Pig's name was almost snorted with repressed humour.
"I'm too tired to argue. I just need to go now."
Blaise nodded and took Pig from Hermione.
"Just remember what I said." Hermione said to Blaise, her voice thick with implied threat.
The tugging behind my navel stopped me from thinking about what she meant.
To tell the truth, after that, I had very little recollection of getting back to Zabini Manor, or being assisted to my room.
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