Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing Rowlings' beloved characters for a bit.
Chapter 2
Eccentric green robes that spotted yellow triangles on them approached in his peripheral vision and came to a stop beside his bed. Too late then. Holding back a sigh, he straightened slowly from the process of grabbing his bag and met the light blue eyes of the headmaster.
"Harry, my boy, it is good to see you up and about so soon already. Are you sure you do not need more time to rest from last night's events?"
"No I'm fine sir." His injuries were healing nicely, much to Madame Pomfrey's surprise.
"And thank Merlin for that. I am very sorry that we have been unable to find your location; some of us assumed the worst." Dumbledore's face tightened almost imperceptibly, whether from regret or remembrance Harry could not tell.
"That's alright Professor." He wouldn't say it wasn't. And he did understand.
The Headmaster conjured two squashy armchairs between the beds and gestured to one of them. "Please, sit down," he said with a warm smile. The moment Harry sat a tea tray sparkled into existence between them.
"Tea?"
"Yes, thank you."
Taking a sip of his own tea, Dumbledore surveyed Harry over his glasses. "I would like to ask you Harry, to tell me all that has transpired last night. Please do not leave out any details that might seem unimportant."
Harry took a swallow to calm himself, welcoming the scalding of his mouth. "I- I was walking back from the lake to go to dinner when I saw Professor Trelawney coming towards me. I think she came from Hogsmeade. She went into one of her fatalistic rants- I mean speeches and then suddenly she swung something at me; it must have been heavy because the next thing I know I'm in a dungeon cell." He trailed off to gauge the reacxtion.
Dumbledore's expression darkened. Harry jumped when Fawkes burst into existence next to him, landing on Dumbledore's shoulder. Dumbledore murmured something and then the phoenix was gone again, leaving behind one golden feather that was deftly snatched out of the air by a gnarled hand.
"She may have been Imperiused or impersonated." Dumbledore explained as if there had been no interruption. "I will order a search of the grounds for any traces of magical activity. The wards will need to be strengthened if that is at all possible– "
"But the wards, shouldn't they…?" If Hogwarts wards had failed…
"Yes, they should be able to expel any imposters. We will get to the bottom of this, Harry." He reached over to shortly grasp his shoulder in a gesture that was supposed to be encouraging.
Harry took another sip to stall. For the next part he would just go with the short version. The last thing he felt like was a shower of pity from everyone. Besides, this was war. These things were bound to happen at some point, especially if your name was Harry Potter. Fortunately the Death Eaters had done a good job of healing the whip marks and knife work.
He frowned, thinking on that. Why had they healed him anyway? He had probably looked awful, but wouldn't that please the Dark Lord? Of course the Death Eaters hadn't been able to resist their revanche: the Department of Mysteries debacle must still be fresh in their minds.
"When I woke I was in a large guest room and L-Lucius Malfoy walked in," Harry continued while avoiding the blue eyes. "He took me to Voldemort. I knew we were in Malfoy Manor because of the portraits hanging from the walls." He felt silent again.
"And what did Lord Voldemort want from you, Harry?"
"He… placed his hand over my forehead and he said he wanted to read my magical signature."
"Indeed."
"Yeah it was eh… really strange, like he was pulling at my magic."
"That is correct,"Dumbledore nodded. "A signature spell interacts with the persons' magic to explore their magical tendencies. For example a signature with a magical inclination towards charms may project a positive feeling to those with a natural affinity towards its lightness, or a negative feeling to those with darker inclinations, and it can be anything in between. It is important therefore for receiver and caster to have an intuitive grasp of one's own magical inclinations to understand the result of the spell."
He definitely had an affinity with Voldemort's magic then. Well, damn.
"Which makes me very curious as to what you experienced." Dumbledore clasped his hands, leaning forward.
Harry again looked away as if digging up a painful memory. "It… hurt." He thought back to the end of fifth year when Voldemort had possessed him. "I wanted to be anywhere but there, it felt like my skin was being flayed and…" he broke of abruptly. Remembering was like reliving it all over again, only the smaller version. He must have been convincing because a hand closed over his own and the Headmasters eyes creased with sorrow.
"I am so sorry my boy."
"But the strangest thing was, he let me go after that."
There was a moment of silence before Dumbledore stood abruptly, startling him. Pacing to the large windows, the old wizard looked out over the grounds, hands folded behind his back.
Harry stood as well. "It doesn't make sense, why would he let me go?"
"I don't know my boy, I don't know." Far-away eyes turned to regard him. However lucky Harry had been, the Headmaster didn't take it as a good sign.
A sudden thought came to him, something he'd wanted to ask that was now more important than ever. "Professor, is it possible for me to get training for this? So that I can be at least somewhat prepared next time something happens? When they came for me, I couldn't do anything. I was… helpless," he finished in a whisper.
"Hm. In light of recent events, I suppose that will be necessary. This latest breach of security is very worrisome. Time is plotting against us, Harry. I do not know what game Voldemort is playing at, but rest assured his obsession with you will only increase. The fact that he let you go is a sign that he is getting more confident, since he expects that he can whisk you away any odd time he wants." He paused for a moment, his eyes jumping back and forth between Harry's. "It needs to be someone with considerable experience and control in the more powerful registers of magic. You will need to work hard for this training to be of any use. I trust that you will commit yourself to the fullest of your abilities?"
"Yes, of course."
"Then I will contact Professor Snape at the earliest convenience."
"Snape?" Was that his voice going up half an octave? "Don't you think that he is - I mean, last year-"
"Professor Snape, Harry. And yes, I am well aware of last years unfortunate incident," Dumbledore said with raised eyebrows. "Professor Snape is an excellent duelist, however, and he has an impressive grasp on a wide range of techniques. "
Great. Had he known that that would be on the table, he would have happily went on teaching himself. His expression remained blank but Dumbledore guessed his thoughts:
"I would very much like teaching you myself, but I think that Professor Snape will present you with a greater challenge to perform under more… stressful circumstances. Also," he went on while Harry's cheeks reddened, "he is intimately acquainted with the tactics of the enemy. He has been asked to train Death Eaters in the past. All the things you'll learn on a regular basis are very different from those of your classmates. It needs to be someone very capable, Harry."
"But maybe you could- "
"I am sorry to say that it will not be possible for me to teach you," Dumbledore spoke gently. "My reflexes are not what they used to be." He raised his hand and Harry saw the black blisters crackling over the skin. "I have to go now, Harry. I will contact you when I have received Severus' answer."
After Dumbledore had taken his leave, Harry stood unmoving, mulling over the answer to his question. Was that really the reason why he could not teach Harry? Or was there something more at play, something he did not want Harry to know?
Slowly walking towards the large double doors of the hospital wing, he was startled out of his thoughts by a bushy-haired girl threatening to topple him with the force of her hug, as shouts of "Harry, mate!" and "Oh Harry, you must be feeling awful!" cutting through the silence.
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"Hey mate, you feel like playing a round of Quidditch outside?"
Harry looked up annoyed, interrupted from his readings. Ever since Dumbledore had received Snapes's letter voicing his acceptance of the duty of training Harry (and Harry was not so naïve as to think he'd had any choice) Snape had been heaping on him book after book on dueling techniques. Short terse notes like
Borrow from the library:
Duelling for the Determined – Voltius Growldawl
Emerging the Victor: Duelling Techniques for the Advanced – Alberta Toothill
Dark Arts and Defence – Gustus Detterton
were being delivered by a black raven every few days and he was getting cross-eyed from the amount of text that had passed under his eyes to the point that he was beginning to develop a permanent headache.
"You know I have work to do Ron," he sighed, moving one hand propping up his head to massage his sore neck. Ron took the seat across from him and tugged on the black tome.
"Dark Arts and Defense? What is the old bugger making you read now?" Ron scolded.
"He's not making me do anything. I asked for this."
Ron shot him a look. "And I suppose that includes wanting to work your ass off during the whole of Easter break?"
"Look, I'm not happy about this either. You go on with Ginny, I'll catch you guys later alright?" he pleaded.
"You better join us before dinner," he grumbled, before stalking out of the library.
Harry glared at the textbook in front of him. Snape knew he was not allowed to go anywhere during the holidays. That he would be stuck here with copious amounts of free time. He supposed he should be grateful that he didn't have this workload during term next to all the other courses he had to follow. In a couple of days Snape would be drilling him on the theory: the man had sneered in passing that he would "verify to what depths I will need to sink to not overexert your…capabilities". When classes resumed two training sessions would be scheduled every week, all under the cover of remedial Potions to prepare for his NEWTs, of course.
He sighed. Where was he? Oh yes, the chapter on tactics. Glancing at the assigned readings, he couldn't help agreeing with Ron's assessment that the book was rather … wicked.
"This charm when aimed accurately, will cause the air behind the opponent to darken, making them turn to face this perceived threat. This will provide the attacker with enough time for a whispered curse to hit the target unhindered.
He was apparently going to be fighting the Slytherin way. Well, he smirked, this could prove amusing after all…
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When Harry rounded the corner on the seventh floor Snape was already there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his wand tapping a rhythm against his shoulder. His eyes followed Harry as he walked to stand next to the Room of Requirement. The professor pushed from the wall and began pacing in front of it in the manner of someone taking a leisurely stroll. A door materialised and they walked through in silence.
"Well," Snape began the moment the door het closed behind them (Harry heard several clicking noises), "how delighted I am to be assigned the joyful task of teaching you, yet again." His eyes flickered around the room, now more resembling a hall in size. "To what I owe this pleasure I do not know." Harry barely caught the whisper.
The sunlight coursing through the floor to ceiling windows on one side illuminated the opposite wall, touching shelves upon shelves of books and sinister looking objects. Abruptly he turned and Harry met his intense stare. Snape's eyes were two black voids and Harry felt as if his eyes would start to burn from looking at them too long.
"You are," Snape clipped, striding towards him, "an incompetent, undisciplined, spoiled brat, and yet I am supposed to make a halfway decent dueler out of you before the school year ends. So," the word was a hiss near his ear. "You will train, hard. There will be no cutting slack. When you are not putting your utmost effort into each session, you won't need to bother showing up again. And believe me, I will know… Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal, sir."
Snape narrowed his eyes at that as if he were trying to decide whether Harry was mocking him or not. In the silence that followed Harry tried to stay calm, feeling very much like a prey on display. After half a minute of scrutiny Snape straightened, apparently satisfied. "Very well. We will begin by testing your grasp on the readings. What are the different classes of curses?"
Fortunately he knew the answer well, since the different classes were frequently referred to in the books. "Neurological curses. Conditional curses, endogenic and exogenic curses… and temporal curses I guess, although they are actually part of the conditional curses."
"And do you know why the temporal curses are defined as a separate class?"
"Because the study of these curses is very old and they make up a large part of the conditional curses."
"Correct," Snape allowed, his face void of emotion. Of course the optimistic streak could not last long and his next question had Harry scrambling for an answer:
"Which of the classes do you consider to hold the most dangerous curses to humans?"
"Ehm…you mean the Unforgivable Curses?"
One eyebrow lifted.
Harry plodded on. "Well, then I guess the neurological curses and for the Killing Curse… the endogenic curses?"
"Your guess is incorrect and you are obviously speculating," the Potion's master sneered. "Dangerous is not the same as Unforgivable," he said in his customary classroom drawl. "Many curses are as dangerous as the Cruciatus or the Killing Curse, which goes to show that you can never rely on the government to protect you on any significant level. For example, the Entrail-Expelling Curse will cause the victim to die at once, making Crucio look kind in comparison."
However, in order for this curse to work properly, a large amount of magical reserves is needed. As you should know by now, the de-materialising of an indeterminate mass is taxing to accomplish, since it constitutes an endogenic reaction requiring the forcing of energy out of the system. In a duelling situation therefore, it would be more effective to use the energy outside of the system. For example, the Decaputis Curse would be sufficient in this situation."
Snape proceeded to explain the advantages and disadvantages of various gruesome curses and in what circumstances to use them. Harry wondered if Snape seriously thought he would be using them. This was a different take on Defence Against the Dark Arts, he supposed - no, make that Dark Arts. He had always thought that, even ignoring the bad teaching over the years, the stuff they were taught was somehow lacking.
It was now obvious what had been missing this whole time: knowledge of the art itself. They always learned how to defend against it, but rarely did the teachers explain the workings behind a spell. That knowledge was very likely forbidden by the Ministry. Harry supposed he should be glad that the children of Death Eaters were not getting spoon-fed more curses in school than they'd already been taught at home.
He looked closely at his Professor. It seemed that teaching his favourite subject to his least favourite pupil had evened out the usual quick temper and snarky demeanour. Snape's voice was barely above a whisper but his gaze was intense and his posture attentive.
When Snape had drilled Harry to his satisfaction (and Harry was relieved that most of his answers were correct), he took out his wand and asked Harry to do the same. Snape placed some distance between them by walking to the center of the hall, his black robes swishing outwards as he turned around. One side of Snape's mouth curled upwards.
"There will be no need for decorum here, as bowing before your enemy in a real dueling situation would be very foolish indeed."
Harry thought about Voldemort's demanding push on his spine.
"The most important skill to harness when faced with an unknown and most likely powerful opponent, is the element of surprise. Taking the enemy unawares through the use of location, agility and knowledge may be your only chance of gaining the upper hand." While speaking, the long fingers of Snape's left hand made a caressing motion over his wand. "Remember that your adversary will be watching closely and waiting for you to reveal your aptitude to him, in order to predict your future actions. You should not give him any excuse to do so. I will demonstrate."
"Impedimenta Fragmentum" Snape said while flicking his wand in a wide arc.
A wide array of yellowish light came Harry's way at chest level and without thinking, he had flattened himself to the ground within a second, balancing his weight on the palms of his hands. Angling his neck upwards to look Snape in the eyes he saw his Professor looking back at him with a sour expression.
"As I expected, you just gave away a valuable skill, namely your agility."
Harry sprang up angrily. "What was I supposed to do? Just take it?"
Snape's lips thinned. "Regardless of the confidential setting of these lessons, you will address me as "sir" or "Professor" at all times, Potter!" he spat the last part.
"What was I supposed to do instead of avoiding the spell, sir?"
"Even when incanted silently, one can recognize the speed and colour of the spell as an Impedimenta, which is not too powerful to be blocked. Moreover, you left yourself in a very vulnerable position, one which I could easily use to my advantage."
"But what if it would be too powerful, sir? Wouldn't it be better to choose to avoid it if I do not know what it is?"
"Then it would be better to avoid it, yes, which is why you will be learning to recognise different types of curses on sight and the best way to counter them, in order to react accordingly. Remember, knowledge is power. I will now use a curse which you will try to recognize and block with the correct counter. Flagrata."
A nasty red spell sizzled his way and Harry knew it was a powerful one.
"Expelliarmus!" he countered. The spells met, then veered off in opposite directions. Some kind of ward shimmered in place, making them vanish before they could hit the walls.
Snape studied him. "You were lucky this time. Usually the Expelliarmus does not allow enough power to deflect the Flagrata." He lifted his wand and Harry tensed. "The following counter-curse is more reliable for the stronger curses and hexes." He swiped his wand in two diagonal slashes, incanting:
"Munio integer." A shimmering blue shield appeared for a moment, covering Snape's front entirely.
And so on they went, Snape demonstrating a curse, or jinx or hex (or even an ordinary charm to take Harry off guard) and Harry tried to come up with the best counter - which often proved to be an inefficient one. Snape would then show the correct spell and corresponding wand-movement, and gradually Harry began to see a pattern. He started to realise that there was not one specific counter for each curse, but that the characteristics of the curse would reveal what kind of counter would likely be most effective and cost the least bit of magical energy.
After Harry was thrown to the cold stones for the umpteenth time by the next curse, and feeling thoroughly wretched at this point, Snape sighed, lowering his wand. "That will be enough for today," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Harry stood up with shaking legs, and seeing Snape remain unmoving with his eyes closed and head bowed, it struck him that Snape must be tired as well.
"Alright. Goodnight sir." He turned to leave when no answer was forthcoming. When his hand was on the door clink Snape called out:
"Do not forget to do your assigned readings, and I want a three foot essay on the benefits of the different characteristics of counter-curses and hexes."
"Yes sir," Harry answered warily, before walking out of the hall and closing the door behind him. When he looked back, the door was invisible once more.
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