7. Master

Harry whistled a tune to himself as he walked down the corridors and into one of the many courtyards to get some fresh air. It was just after lunch, and he planned on reading another book on potions in preparation for Snape's hellish classes between now and dinner so he would be more ready when term began next week. The courtyard he'd chosen for his midday reading was surrounded by tall spires and walls, the many gargoyles looking down at him with empty stone expressions, and he did a double take as he spotted a figure balancing on top of one of them.

It was the Defense teacher, Simon Winchester.

The man sat crouched, feet close together and looking as comfortable on the small perch as Harry did right there on the ground below him, and Harry gaped. The Professor was dressed in strange robes, long and tapered into a point in the front and back and short at the sides, and layered in a way that would allow for full freedom of movement while still offering protection and concealment where it mattered, worn as it was over a pair of what Harry could only describe as cargo pants. A dragonskin coat was tied at the waist with a deep green sash trimmed with silver. The rest of the clothing was made up off dark greys, blacks and greens, and Harry guessed it would blend very well with a lot of environments, as well as making him look distinctly Slytherin. ..

The style of dress was strange, and it made the Professor look so different, that Harry found himself staring despite of himself.

The older wizard looked down at him with a slight smirk before standing gracefully, and Harry spotted the hilts of two swords from where the weapons hung from the older wizard's belt. But those weren't the only visible weapons the man carried, and Harry's gaze was almost instantly drawn to something else, something so familiar, but so out of place that it took a moment for him to reconcile what he was seeing.

Simon Winchester, Defense against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was carrying two Muggle guns. He could clearly see the two firearms as the older man turned on top of the gargoyle, secure in their twin holsters at the small of his back.

Before Harry could do more than gape, the man leaped off his perch and landed in front of Harry in a low crouch to absorb the impact. He made virtually no sound, and Harry wondered for a moment how someone dressed like that, with that many weapons, could move so silently until the man uncurled himself again and he did hear something. The whispering of cloth, the creaking of leather. It wasn't magic that was silencing the man's movements. It was pure skill.

"I was wondering when you would show up kid. Care to have a walk with me?" Harry nodded in instinctive agreement at that soft spoken, slightly rough voice. All thoughts about potions left him at the prospect of having the opportunity to speak with this man who had offered him help and answers earlier that week. He had been planning on going over to the Professors' quarters after dinner anyway, but the man had beaten him to it, it seemed…

The Professor's smirk transformed into a rare but genuine smile for a fraction of a second before the man turned away and started walking, obviously expecting Harry to follow.

Harry put on a small burst of speed to catch up with the older man's longer strides until he had drawn even, falling in step automatically and allowing him to lead them down the long winding corridors to one of the exits that Harry knew was closest to the Forbidden Forest.

"How have you been sleeping?"

The question took him by surprise for a moment, and he took a second to respond, smiling as he did as he remembered the last few days, or rather nights. "Good. Beyond good… It's the locket, isn't it?" he guessed, feeling a sense of pride as the Professor nodded in affirmation. "Yeah. The fact that you're a Parselmouth makes it all the more effective in offering you protection, as it can connect more easily with your mind. Voldemort won't be getting through that any time soon," the Professor explained as they crossed the grounds and reached the edge of the Forest.

Harry made himself stop at the edge, and it took only a second for the older man to draw to a halt as well. The boy could hear the amusement in the palehaired wizard's voice as he spoke again. "Don't worry kid, I won't let you get hurt, and there's nothing in this Forest that can touch me." There was so much confidence in the man's voice that Harry felt momentarily envious. But it wasn't the kind of arrogance the Malfoy's so readily broadcasted either, and Harry had no doubt that this man could make good on all the claims he made. He wished he could feel so sure of his own abilities, if only once…

In response to the man's statement, he breathed in deeply and nodded before making himself follow again. Simon returned the nod in obvious acceptance of his decision to trust the older man, at least fornow, and they walked in silence after that for what could have been hours before the slender Professor stopped and motioned for him to be silent. Harry did, straining to hear anything but failing to catch anything out of the ordinary. But he did feel the older wizard's magic in the air again, that sense of darkness and death even stronger now that there was no interference from the magic of the man's brother.

And there was so much of it… In most others, Harry could feel there was a limit to the power they wielded, but this felt endless, like staring into a void. It was ruthless and focused in intensity, and so very controlled… Not even Dumbledore's magic felt so completely under its owners' control.

"You feel it." Harry nodded, not having to ask what the man meant, and the Professor chuckled wryly as he looked down at Harry with an unreadable expression on his pale features. "Tell me what you sense Harry. Try to be as complete as possible."

Harry shifted in slight apprehension at the obvious test he'd been given. He had always wondered about this thing he could do, and he had instinctively kept it to himself all these years, yet no one had confronted him about it. Until Simon Winchester had come along… And Harry got the feeling that this Professor knew exactly what Harry's ability was. So he strived to do as instructed as he started talking.

"I feel your magic. It's dark.. It feels like shadows, darkness and death. Quiet, dangerous… It tastes of ashes and decay. Your control of it is unbelievable. And I can sense no end to it, something that I usually can with others, but not with you or your brother," he summed up, starting off hesitantly but getting more sure of himself as he spoke. And then he noticed something else. With most, the magic was contained within the body, and was usually released with the aid of a wand which made it so that with most witches and wizards there was a sort of magical hotspot centered around their hands. Simon didn't havesuch a hotspot, his magic was all within and around him. And there was really only one explanation for that...

"You don't have a wand," he muttered in awe and surprise, and Simon chuckled. "Very good.., you got very far without any formal training. What you can do is rare, I've only met a handful of others who have this ability we have. You're a Spellweaver Harry, and it's about time somebody teaches you how to use that to your advantage."

Harry could only gape. "A what?" Just another thing he hadn't heard off. Only admittedly, Simon had said that it was a rare ability… Maybe Hermione would know what it meant.

Again, those pale eyes found his. "Of course you're free to tell her, although I would advise against it. If nobody knows, nobody can use your ability for their own gain. But ultimately, it's your choice." Harry's chin shot up, taking a step back as he looked at his Professor in surprise. "You read my mind again?" he asked incredulously, grabbing for the locket that was supposed to protect him from just such an intrusion.

The pale wizards merely chuckled darkly. "You're projecting. And that won't help you, it'll never move against me," he offered, pointing at the locket for a moment before he moved to sit down on the grass in the middle of the clearing they were in. Harry looked at him with suspicion, but he didn't sense any evil intentions from the slender wizard. Although surely, he would be able to hide that if he did…

Harry felt suddenly unsure, with this man he barely knew and who was telling him all these things. No one had bothered to tell him anything before, why would this guy help him if he didn't have any ulterior motives? Why would he invest in Harry if there wasn't anything to gain?

"Because I'm not interested in anything you have to offer. I'm doing this because most people are doing you a disservice by keeping you uninformed. You're a tool, and you've been used as such since you were a baby... A means to an end. Dumbledore doesn't care about you, his disinterest in your wellbeing by leaving you with those relatives of yours is enough proof of that. And then he goes on and doesn't teach you anything. If you expect somebody to be your weapon, the least you should do is care for it. Train it. Hone it. He has done none of these things."

Harry felt his face flushing at the man's ruthlessly delivered speech. He hated how he was the subject of that, but he knew there was truth in those calmly spoken words. He had been used. People were always out to use him, without any regard for him. He swallowed hard and made himself look down at the palehaired wizard, feeling heat burn behind his eyes as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. He felt disgusted with himself, for feeling the way he did and for allowing this crap to happen to him. And he was so weak, so very weak. What Simon had said earlier that week, that him surviving must have been a fluke, couldn't be more true the way he felt now. He wanted to feel anger, hate even, but all he could do was feel disgust at his own incompetence.

"I never asked for any of this…" he muttered, voice quivering as he sat down heavily on the grass opposite the other man, suddenly too drained to stay on his feet. Simon simply remained silent as he hiccupped and his shoulders started shaking with silent sobs as the dam broke. He had always cried silently, had learned to be quiet from a very young age, and it made him feel slightly less undignified as he had his mental breakdown in front of his teacher.

"… why? Why are you helping me?" he asked breathlessly after the worst of it had passed, dragging one of his sleeves over his eyes to dry them as he waited for an answer.

There was another long pause, and the Professor sighed with a weariness that surprised Harry enough to make him look up at the older man. The slender wizard wasn't looking at him, but was staring down at the back of his left hand, where part of that strange tattoo snaked out from beneath his sleeves, seemingly lost in thought as those pale eyes grew cold and distant, but the expression was gone before Harry could really identify its full meaning. "Because I know what it's like to be a tool, and you deserve a better shot at life," he responded after long moments, voice flat with a pain Harry didn't understand, but with an honesty and openness that shook him to his core.

He had seen the way this man approached the other Professors, with wariness and distrust. For him to lay himself bare like this…

"Thank you."

Pale grey met emerald green, and Harry poured all the gratitude he felt into his gaze, and some of the hardness in those strange eyes softened as the Defense Professor snorted.

"Don't thank me yet kid, none of this will be easy. And I haven't done anything for you yet."

Harry shook his head in disagreement. "That's not true. You've been honest. You've treated me like a human being, not a weapon. And now you're offering to teach me how to become stronger and better than I am… You've done more than most already," he admitted solemnly, and was gratified when the older wizard gave a curt nod in acceptance.

"It'll take time out of your usual schedule. I don't want others to know I'm teaching you Spellweaving, and I advise you to keep your ability to yourself although I understand you want to tell your friends... But be discreet... There's only so much I can do to protect you."

Harry nodded to indicate he understood. He would keep it to himself for now, at least until he felt more sure of himself.

"So, what is a Spellweaver…" he asked after another short pause, and Simon's lips quirked up into a small smile. "A witch or wizard with the innate ability to manipulate magic at the source. I can tap into the magic around me even if it isn't mine and use it for my own purposes. If you're fast enough, it's possible to take a spell as it is cast and unravel it or use it yourself. Warding is also better done by a Spellweaver, as we can twist the magic very effectively into the kind of protection we want. It's more instinctive and versatile than having to rely on wands and spells. It's incredibly draining at first, but the payoff is complete freedom in your use of magic."

The older wizard looked at Harry closely, and Harry fidgeted as he suddenly felt like he was being dissected by that deceptively cool gaze before the slender Professor continued.

"Since Spellweavers are so extremely rare, I as a Master am obliged by global wizarding law to offer you a formal Apprenticeship… There are limits to what I can teach you in a short period without the Master-Apprentice bond. Consider my offer closely before even thinking of accepting, it's not a short term commitment we're talking about here, and I have to warn you that it won't be without risk."

Harry nodded to indicate he understood, although he had to admit the implications were still vague to him. Simon must have seen the insecurity in his gaze, and he chuckled low in his throat as he leaned back expectantly. Harry smiled back as he relaxed again and nodded. "Alright, I'll think about it, carefully, after I've found out what an Apprenticeship is…" he said with slight self-deprecation in his voice. That investigation was something he wanted to do on his own. Of course he could ask his teacher, but he wanted to find out himself, just to be completely sure he had covered all the angles and considered all the consequences, in his own time.

But there was another question he'd been wanting to ask, ever since he'd observed the man that day in his quarters.

"You're a Parselmouth… I've always been told me and Voldemort are the only ones alive who are."

Simon raised an eyebrow. "Then those people were lying or ignorant. It's rare, but more Parselmouths exist than just us. It's not something that's only passed on in the Slytherin bloodlines either. But most don't really showcase the skill freely, for obvious reasons."

Harry laughed, feeling slightly silly for having believed a skill was unique to just him and Voldemort, but the man's answer did raise another point of interest. He reached up and pulled the locket out from underneath his robes, holding it up to the light and letting it catch some stray rays of sunlight. "I tried to find out more about this… Was this Salazar Slytherin's locket?" he asked cautiously, surprised when the Professor simply inclined his head. "How did you get it?" he continued, awe clear in his voice as he stared alternately between the locket and this mysterious teacher that had just shown up a week ago and had already put everything on its head.

The man smirked coolly before pushing himself to his feet again, moving with that constant deadly grace Harry had come to associate with him over the past days. "It's a family heirloom, I've had it for ages," he answered simply, offering Harry a hand up which he accepted without even thinking about it. The contact sent a jolt of static down his arm, and Harry gasped as he stumbled momentarily before catching himself before staring down at where their hands were still locked. He quickly withdrew from the hold, blinking in confusion at the strange sensation, one he couldn't quite place.

Simon appeared not to have noticed as he brushed off his clothes and started to walk the path back the way they had come, and Harry jogged a bit to catch up as the older man started to push through the thick underbrush.

"Why tell me all this here, why not back at Hogwarts?" the boy asked after several minutes had passed, and the Professor answered without looking at him. "Because the walls of Hogwarts have eyes and ears.. You'd do well to remember that."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath at that, and he once again clutched at the locket in a movement which was becoming a strange, yet comforting, habit. If what Simon said was true…

He would certainly have to keep that in mind…