I clearly do not own Harry Potter. If I did, my writing would be famous and I would be rich beyond belief. But it's not, and neither am I.

AN: This is my first story that I'm publishing for more than 30 seconds. If it's complete crap, tell me. If it's the best thing you've ever read, tell me. If you hated it, and feel like ranting about how I'm obviously an inexperienced writer that has no business writing, don't tell me. I already know that. Also, I'm naming all the chapters after a Next Generation episode.

Enjoy, hopefully.

Chapter One: A Matter of Honor

Soft tufts of snow fell around a pair of men, melting in a perfect circle around the smaller of the two. Intense heat radiated off of them, warning of the immense power being used. Dark and ominous trees hung their branches down like claws extended towards the ground, while the foliage towered above them, casting long shadows on their flowing robes.

"That's it Harry! Slash and jab!" Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts shouted encouragingly to fourteen-year-old Harry James Potter, Triwizard Tournament competitor extraordinaire.

"Incido!" Harry incanted tiredly, launching yet another exhaustingly overpowered Advanced Cutting curse at the conjured target. Beads of sweat streamed down his tired face as a lance of silver energy left his fingertips, arcing through the air to cleave the target unevenly into two distinct pieces.

"Bravo," Dumbledore clapped enthusiastically. "That one was particularly powerful, especially since it was wandless."

Harry smiled slightly, and softly spoke. "Professor, could I possibly finish this tomorrow? I'm exhausted."

The pair was not out and about next to an ominous forest on a cold, snowy, February day for no reason. In fact, the reason they were out on that miserable day was because Albus Dumbledore had offered to train Harry in the ways of magic. Now, you might say that this is a rather unexpected offer, and you would be partially correct.

1 Week Prior

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and Triwizard Judge, sat in the judges box for the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Of course, Dumbledore contemplated,It really should be called the Quadwizard Quizzes or something of the sort. He was watching the unexpected fourth champion swim through the water to retrieve his hostage, and so far he was doing admirably.

Dumbledore watched as Harry was attacked by Grindylows and quietly contemplated his decision not to train young Harry. He tried to remember his reasoning for that particular decision, and with a start remembered. Yes, he must not be told to preserve his childhood. He continued, confident in his choice.

Yet a small voice in the back of his head seemed to be screaming for his attention. He returned to his meditative state and immediately was bombarded with arguments against his decision. It's not your choice! They screamed. He doesn't even have a childhood! Another yelled. He needs to know! Yet another berated him. And on and on he was attacked by his own mind, until finally he relented. Yes! I will train the boy. If you will accept my decision to wait in telling him the Prophecy. His conscience, knowing that was the best offer it was going to get, relented.

Dumbledore sighed, not happy about taking even a small bit of the happiness that Harry exhibited away from him. He knew that if he was to train him properly, he would have to be brutal. He did not like this, not one bit.

Dumbledore found himself thinking about what he could teach the boy. Wandless magic was a given, and animagus training surely. Perhaps even runes, since it would help with his spellcasting. Perhaps he should teach him a few of his own tricks as well.

Yes, Dumbledore was getting more enthusiastic about this every passing second. Now, he only had to get the boy to agree.

To Dumbledore's great surprise, Harry accepted instantly, and ever since the completion of the Second Task he had been trained in all sorts of wondrous magics. Wandless magics, silent magics, animagus training, runes, and obscure battle spells were all on his course list.

Practicing twelve hours a day for almost a week left Harry feeling terrible. His magical reserves were almost depleted, and all he wanted to do was go and have a nice day-long nap. Alas, the Headmaster would not relent, insisting Harry deplete his core completely in the fastest way possible every day before bed. Harry was not happy about shooting overpowered cutting curses out of his fingertips every evening before bed. He had, however, noticed that he could do more and more every day, so he supposed it was working.

"No Harry, your core isn't depleted yet." Dumbledore chided gently.

Harry groaned. "Professor, why must I deplete my core every day?"

"Harry, your magic needs to be stretched if it is going to grow. It's like a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it will be." Dumbledore explained calmly.

"But why do I need to do it the hard way? Didn't you say there was a spell to deplete your core?" Harry inquired.

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes Harry, there is. But then the magical conduits in your body would not be cleared out." At Harry's blank look, he explained further. "All throughout your body there are magical conduits. They get charged up with ambient magic, making it extraordinarily difficult to cast even the simplest of spells. It's like a water pipe. It gets dusty on the inside and the water that comes out of the end is all dirty. But if you shoot water through it when you don't need it, the dust will flow along with the water, cleaning it out and making all the water after it untainted."

Harry looked even more confused at this, so the Headmaster just chuckled. "This is advanced magical theory, Harry. I do not expect you to fully understand. However, please trust that this is indeed necessary."

Harry bowed his head. "Yes sir."

"Continue, Harry."

"Incido!"

:{D

Two weeks later, Harry was sitting in front of a steaming cauldron, stirring concentratedly as Severus Snape, resident Potions Master looked over his shoulder. Disapproval and annoyance were plainly visible on his face.

"Potter, I don't know why the Headmaster wants you to brew the Animagus Unlocking potion, but if you keep ignoring those Warthog Entrails that you're preparing the potion will become an incurable poison. Not that I care." Snape sneered scornfully. Harry quickly returned his attention to the main ingredient of his potion. Sure enough, the entrails had already begun to curl up.

"Crap." Harry swore.

"Five points from Gryffindor."

Harry flipped the writhing intestines over on the stove, much like one would flip a pancake. If that pancake was covered in manure, that is.

He carefully inspected the charred mass, noting the charred edges. He quickly scraped off the charred bits, checking over his shoulder to see that Snape had gone back to reading his cleverly disguised copy of Teen Witch Weekly.

While he was checking on Snape, his hand continued to scrape off the burnt bits with a silver knife. Snape grunted, startling Harry, and his knife slipped, sinking deeply into his thumb.

"OW!" Harry yelled, sucking the blood off the wound.

"Potter, you idiot. Go to the hospital wing. I will finish the potion myself."

:{D

Gabrielle Delacour was not a happy camper. Her headmistress had forbidden any conversation with the champions, fearing that her students would assist another out of spite for Fleur, who was hated for her beauty and charm. Which meant she couldn't thank Harry Potter for saving her life.

Twilight was nearing, the sun almost disappearing over the horizon. The sky was lit up in brilliant oranges and reds. Gabrielle thought to herself the clouds looked much like cotton candy. She looked over the lake, at the slowly falling sun, admiring the simplistic beauty of the scene. Darkness fell as the last sliver of the sun gave way to the dark night sky.

"Get out of the way, little girl." A whiny Beauxbatons student said in a nasal voice, interrupting Gabrielle's pensive moment.

Gabrielle glared at her. "I'm twelve, you idiot. And is that really the best you can come up with?"

The student stepped towards her threateningly. "Stupid veela bitch. You'll learn how to shut your mouth and not talk back to your superiors." She raised her hand as if to strike Gabrielle.

A high squeal of pain, and a terrible crunching sound erupted from the student as Gabrielle flew into motion. Her arms flew up in a blur, and punched her in the nose, shattering it. The older student sunk to her knees, moaning in pain and bleeding profusely from her ruined nose.

"Hey! Look what she did to Maria!" One of the girl's cronies said loudly.

"Yeah, let's teach her a lesson she'll never forget!" Another said.

They descended upon Gabrielle like a pack of vultures fighting over a scrap of meat. Pain flared throughout her body as they kicked and punched every inch of her skin. Nails scratched at her face, drawing blood. Spiked high-heels were jammed into her ribs, winding her. She screamed in agony as every rib was broken simultaneously by one girl jumping on her chest like a trampoline.

:{/

"Pario!" Harry incanted loudly, gesturing wildly with his hand. A jet of black energy shot from his hand and coalesced into an onyx statue of a wolf. The glistening, polished stone glinting softly in contrast to the brilliantly sparkling snow around it. It's fur was long and sleek, a perfect copy of a wolf. Its canines glinted, looking so sharp they could cut steel. The most fearsome part of its visage was the glittering, menacing, emerald eyes, looking so alive Harry wondered if he accidentally created an actual, living wolf.

"Good Harry. Very detailed, much better than the last attempts," Dumbledore commented lightly, looking around at the melted, deformed statues all around them. It looked like a graveyard of coal-black gargoyles, with shattered eyes, and haunted looks. The contrast from the previous attempts was obvious. "I believe that you are ready to try the animation spell," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You will need to embody it with a purpose. While Tom Riddle favors loyalty in his creations, I find that embodying them with the will to defend, and some level of morals is far more effective."

Harry looked revolted at Voldemort's mention, but quickly recovered. "Professor, how would I give it purpose?"

"Simple Harry. It is merely the incantation Animatis while drawing the appropriate runes in mid-air with your index finger. Like so." Dumbledore explained. "Animatis!" He said calmly, tracing an intricate pattern in the air. Harry's onyx wolf rose to it's feet and shook it's head, shaking off imperfections in it's coat of fur. It walked up to Dumbledore and began licking his hand excitedly.

"Dimittere." Dumbledore waved his hand, and the statue froze abruptly, its tongue sticking out, still looking at Dumbledore with an expression of adoration.

"That was very cool, sir." Harry commented.

"Why thank you, Harry." The Headmaster smiled. "I believe that it is your turn."

Harry looked at Dumbledore with inquiring eyes. "But sir, how do I know which Runes to use?"

"Harry, my boy, just use the runes that describe what you want the wolf to do. Give it personality." He said with a smile. "And take your time."

Harry thought hard. He wanted his wolf to be powerful, but also wanted it to use its power responsibly. He also wanted it to be more intelligent than a troll, so it would know how to use it's power. He wanted it to help the innocent, and not have its power going to its head.

No, he was over thinking it. This was just training. He would have time to figure out a perfect combination later. He would use what he had, and if it didn't work, well then he'd just try again.

"I'm ready, Professor."

Dumbledore grinned. "Excellent. Continue, please."

Harry raised his hand and thought very hard of his perfect Gryffindor wolf, and begun to draw runes. The movement of his hand ceased to be a conscious action and just moved where his instincts told him to. His rudimentary runes quickly were replaced by a masterful array of complex movements, each steering him closer to his goal. He pushed his magic out of his fingertips, leaving a phantom image of the patterns that he was drawing. Glowing dust whirled around Harry and the wolf, isolating them from Dumbledore, who looked very intrigued at his actions.

Harry's arm hurt from what seemed like hours of rune after rune, depleting his supply of magic almost completely. Finally, when he thought his arm was going to fall off from sheer exhaustion, he felt the magic coming to completion. Gathering his remaining energy, he shoved the last of his power through his palm, yelling 'Animatis!' loudly.

With the force of a large semi truck a bright ball of light erupted from the palm of Harry's hand, colliding violently with the onyx statue. Massive waves of energy emanated from the statue, The backlash nearly knocking Harry off his feet. He fought to stay conscious, but knew it was futile. Blackness closed in on him, and Harry Potter fell backwards, asleep.

The onyx figure seemed to draw power into its body from the ground, the intensity of the aura surrounding the figure increasing. Blinding light enveloped the Headmaster, making him shield his eyes with his hand and look away. Magical pulses gained in strength, sending shivers down Dumbledore's spine. Time stopped for a fraction of a second, though it seemed like an eternity to the Headmaster. The light and magic snapped back instantly to the figure, melting into its surface. All was still. It opened its eyes. Its emerald-green, familiar eyes. The eyes of Harry Potter.

It breathed in deeply, orienting itself, before it spotted the Headmaster looking at it incredulously. It mentally smirked, but outwardly just blinked. Dumbledore raised his hand, a scanning spell on his lips.

"Statuere." Dumbledore intoned. Glowing Runes sprang up from his palm, flashing in sequences unknown to all but the headmaster. "Oh my." He said in horror. "What the blazes was he thinking? He was not ready for this!"

The animated statue just nodded.

"You are fully sentient, with a copy of Harry's soul and memories? And a rudimentary magical core as well?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Yes." The wolf spoke in Dumbledore's mind. Dumbledore allowed his shock to show.

Dumbledore turned to Harry, and when he saw he was unconscious he rushed to Harry's side. "We must get him to the hospital wing, immediately."

"He is merely magically depleted. Creating a copy of your soul can be quite strenuous." The wolf spoke again.

"Nevertheless-" Dumbledore stopped. "What was that noise?"

The wolf's ears perked up. "A young French girl. She's being attacked. You take Harry to the hospital wing. I will deal with this situation." Even in his mind, Dumbledore could feel the wolf's cold fury, and decided to heed the wolf's instructions. Dumbledore ran off, levitating Harry towards the castle.

The wolf turned to the direction of the lake with furious determination glowing in its emerald eyes. It bolted, claws kicking up a storm of dirt and torn up grass. A shadowy blur, it made a very menacing sight in the dark with the ominous backdrop of the Forbidden Forest.