Liquid Fire

[After enough time for preparation, Pavel went to Harry's door and knocked softly.

"Come in, sir," Harry answered, with a clear voice, determined to hold his dignity. He stood from his bed when Pavel walked in, obediently dressed in his pajamas, wearing his robe and slippers.

Pavel walked in, closed the door behind him, and warded the door lest any unexpected guests arrived. He walked to Harry's coat hooks along the wall adjacent the door, and began to disrobe. As he removed his houserobe, he asked, "Why am I here right now, Harry?"

"I'm going to be walloped, sir."]

Pavel unbuttoned his waistcoat, one button at a time, hanging it next to the robe. "And what am I going to wallop you for, Harry?"

"For breaking one of our family's cardinal rules. Because I knowingly cheated on a Mid Term Examination in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and persisted even after I realized that it was wrong, and that it broke the rule." Harry's heart had skipped a beat when he'd said "our family's" rule.

Now down to shirtsleeves and breeches, Pavel walked to Harry's desk and removed his cuff links from the French cuffs of one of the monogrammed white linen shirts he invariably wore, steadily rolling up first his left sleeve to nearly the elbow, then his right. "That is correct, Harry. Such conduct is not permitted to you as my son and heir."

Harry couldn't take his eyes off Pavel's hands, as he performed this ritual he had repeated for nearly 30 years when he chastened a son. Ivan had once told him, confidentially, that even as a grown man, his legs would go numb and his lower back turn cold to watch his father remove his cuff links and, as he was doing right now, remove his wand and sheath from inside his right forearm and set it down next to his cuff links. John had laughed to admit that seeing his father do such a simple thing today could still turn his knees weak. Pavel had nodded when he said this, recommending that he remember this for his own children one day. This ritual prompted "dread", the fearsome awareness of inevitable doom. It began the experience of correction before the child was even touched, and saved Pavel from having to deliver at least two blows of actual chastening. The more he could build "dread" and the experience of correction before physical contact, the less actual pain he had to inflict. The point was not the pain, it was the surrender to authority and remorse. The sooner the better, to Pavel.

Harry had only seen this once before, when he and John had taken their paddlings together. So he didn't experience quite the degree of dread in muscle memory that John did, but it certainly focused one's attention.

Pavel then turned to Harry saying, "Please remove your robe, and get your mouthpiece. This will hurt more than a paddling, but probably less than your caning. Still, I don't want to risk any injury." He removed his belt, dressed black leather about two inches wide, quarter inch thick more or less. He did not double it, as Uncle Vernon always did, but rather gathered it up in his hand, except for the tail end of it hanging out about 14 inches or so. The edges were rounded, and there were no holes in it, as it secured itself magically.

Harry's heart was beating so hard and fast, he thought it audible - as actually, it was, to Pavel. He couldn't take his eyes off the belt in Pavel's hand and began to have second thoughts about this whole thing. "Sir, perhaps this wasn't my brightest idea. Could we discuss this again?"

"No, Harry. We've sworn oaths to one another, there's no going back now. Unless... one moment." Pavel paused and spoke in a very gentle voice, "Right now, as you stand there and see me holding this belt in my hand... whom do you see? Do you see me? Or do you see Vernon Dursley? That would make a huge difference."

Harry had to smile and shake his head, even in these circumstances. He SO wished he could lie to this man. "No, sir. I don't see Uncle Vernon. I just see my Papa, who's going to wallop me for cheating on an exam and breaking a non-negotiable rule. I'm not having a flashback. I'm just feeling my legs turn to ice, because I know this is gonna hurt like hell."

Even Pavel had to chuckle, without comment on his language. "All right, my son. Then we'd best get through this before you freeze solid. You'll live through it, I promise. Now, you have a choice. Do you want to assume the position, or do I put you across my knee? That's up to you."

Harry had never had such a choice before. The Dursley's had never spanked him, at least not to where they'd ever had to touch him. He'd been beaten, but only with wild swings and objects... broom, frying pan, belt, electric wire... whatever. But only Papa had ever gently put him over his knee, that one time he'd asked to be paddled instead of grounded, as Papa had sat on the bed and brought a pillow up to support the boy's upper body and cushion his hands and tears. That's the position John had taken, and he'd just followed suit. He didn't know if it was baby-ish to be turned over Papa's knee or not. He knew it made him feel vulnerable and childish, but the contact provided comfort as well. He'd assumed the position when he was caned, and there was no comfort there at all. But again, that had been Snape, not Papa. He didn't know what to decide.

"What did John choose, when he was my age, Papa?"

Pavel smiled. "No, son. Do what works for YOU, don't worry about being like Ivan. Would you feel more dignified to assume the position over a chair, or would you prefer across my knee? Either is fine."

"You, Papa..." he tried to steady his breathing. "I think..."

"Very well, then." Pavel briskly walked to Harry's bed and removed one of his pillows. He sat at the edge of the bed, put the pillow alongside him to his left, and put the belt down on his right. He held his hands out to help position Harry. Harry walked on leaden feet, as Pavel turned him over his left knee and hooked his right calf across Harry's ankles. "Put your mouthpiece in, take your glasses off and put them on the nightstand, hold tight to the pillow, and do not throw your hands out behind you. That will be a reflex, just as curling your legs up will be. My leg will prevent yours from coming up, and I'll steady you with my left hand, but may not be able to catch your hands in time if you throw them back. If you try that, I'll stop you with a shield at your waist. Your backside is well cushioned to take these licks without injury. Your hands could be injured, and I'll not have that. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." Harry said, able to speak clearly through the magical mouth guard.

"You need not count or speak, in fact you'll likely be quite unable to do so. You are not to cuss or attempt to strike me. Other than that, the room is sound warded so don't worry about being overheard if you cry out, but you're not to fight or try to stand, though it is natural to squirm. Have you anything to say in your defense before we begin?"

"No, sir. Except... if I promised never to do it again, could we..."

"No, my son. We could not..." and the first lash fell like the crack of doom! "THWACK!

"Ye gods!" thought Harry as a piercing yowl was torn from his lips. Pavel was only striking with about 12 inches of leather, and the blow was nowhere near full force. But Harry had never imagined such discomfort from so simple a blow. Unlike the cane or even the paddle, there wasn't so strong a sense of initial impact, as the sudden rush of sting, and then an overwhelming wave of fiery pain. He was crying immediately. He'd always enjoyed that his pajamas here were silk, until at this moment he realized a layer of silk gave his upturned bottom all the protection of a spiderweb.

"THWAP!" the second lick was placed below the first, and again felt like a line of bees hit him followed by a paint brush swipe of liquid fire. He couldn't help himself... his hands flew down to try to cover or comfort his backside, he squirmed, feeling awkwardly vulnerable bent over Pavel's leg. He understood now why Papa had his other leg on his ankles, as he'd immediately tried to arch to protect himself.

Pavel stopped and waited. Harry just cried, but only in a normal child's cry. He wasn't shrieking or yowling. "My son, we are not finished, but I'm giving you a moment to recollect yourself. You MUST keep your hands up out of the way. I'll not have your fingers injured by bad timing. Do you need my help to shield them away, or can you master the pain?"

Harry felt oddly complimented by the implicit challenge in Papa's words. He answered, "I'm sorry, Papa. I'm being such a baby. I can handle it. I'll keep my hands clear."

"You're not being a baby, son. You've never experienced this before, and I know it hurts like hell. It is intended to, but I know you can get command of yourself. Are you all right? May we finish?"

"Yes, sir, carry on," he answered bravely, remembering how he saw Papa take 6 hard strokes with a cane the week before, not even cry out and barely move*. "Come on, Harry... surely you can hold still for this. This is WAY lighter than that was!" he exhorted himself.

"THWACK!" the blazing leather painted another stripe of fire across Harry's seat, as he danced with the pain but focused on keeping his hands firmly gripping the pillow. He'd shouted once, into the pillow, and kept his legs down this time.

"THWAP!" the lash was focusing left, then right, then alternating, and always down in the zone where he needed to sit. This time, though, he'd been prepared for the splash of bees and fire, and focused on his breathing and hands. He cried out again, and his tears flowed freely, but he was proud that he wasn't shrieking or carrying on.

"THWACK!" the serpentine leather tongue managed to find a part of his bottom that had not been yet blessed with its kiss. Wow, there were no words to describe the feeling of blazing lava instantly splashed across his backside. It amazed him to think that he'd taken much harder, much more damaging, blows... even with a belt doubled up... at the Dursley's, but never remembered it hurting this way. Of course, he'd never been put across the knee of a Papa who loved him, with his bum stuck up in the air, either. If this is what it meant to break a cardinal rule... he was going to try very hard never to do this again as long as he lived.

"THWAP!" this lick managed to bridge squarely across both seat cheeks, forcing a downright howl from Harry as he struggled with all his will just to throttle the pillow in his hands, rather than reach down to cover and rub his way too vulnerable bum. He didn't know how much more he could stand, but he felt all too clearly, how serious Papa was about the family rules.

He felt Papa's calf come off his legs, and heard the belt drop on the other side of his bed as Papa said, "All right, son. We're finished." Harry collapsed like a limp rag, as all the tension in every muscle released simultaneously. He suddenly realized why Papa had him "go wash up" before he'd changed for his walloping. Had he not done so, he'd probably have... well... that didn't matter now. Papa rubbed slow circles down his back from shoulders to waist, while Harry just focused on breathing and crying. "My brave little man," Papa said. "You did very well. I know that was altogether new to you, and terrible. Stand up when you're ready."

"You don't think I'm just being a baby?" Harry sniffled as he took out his mouthpiece and tenderly rubbed his backside, before reaching out to hug to Pavel's chest.

"Not at all, little man. You were very brave, and everyone needs some hugs after a whipping. I did, after I was caned. Ivan did, after he was paddled. Nothing baby-ish about it. When we hurt, we need comfort. Come on..." as he enfolded Harry, after helping him stand. Harry grabbed his neck and buried his face in Pavel's chest, starting an entirely new round of crying. Pavel scooped Harry's legs up, to seat him comfortably on his lap sitting on the back of his thighs, letting his bottom stay clear of any weight. Pavel just rocked the boy, whispering... "My beloved son, in whom I am well pleased. You are very brave, and you took control of your pain. That was well done, son." Pavel just sat with the boy in his arms, and rocked him wrapped in comfort and security.

Harry glowed at the praise. "I'm so sorry, Papa. I try to be good, I really do. It's just sometimes, even though I know something's wrong, it's like I can't help myself!"

"I know, my boy. I know. That's why you have grownups who love and care for you, and a Papa... and a brother... who will correct and protect you, even from yourself. You did wrong and broke a rule. You've now taken your medicine for that, and that is forgiven. When you are recovered from your sniffles and hiccups, we'll send for your dinner and you can go to bed. I'll bet you're very sleepy."

Harry reached and put his glasses back on, checking the Tempus to protest, "But, Papa, it's not even 7:00 yet! You can't mean I have to go to bed already!"

"No, son. You get to have dinner first... but yes, indeed, your penalty for your handling of Professor Lockhart is that you are grounded, and being sent to bed early."

"Pfft! That's absurd, Papa. My bedtime in the Tower is 10:00... and you're sending me to bed at 7:30? Shall I go stand in the corner, while I'm at it?"

If Pavel had concerns about "crushing the boy's spirit" with his thrashing, they were well and truly relieved. "You, young man, are being extremely cheeky for someone who's bottom has just been warmed to a rosy red blister. Perhaps some time in the corner would indeed help you address me a bit more respectfully, eh?"

"No, Papa... I'll be good. It's just, being put to bed early? Really? I mean, what would I tell my friends? That would be SO embarrassing!"

"I don't know, Harry. Would you like to try? They're just outside the door, by now." Pavel laughed. He noticed that one side benefit of their banter was that Harry's sniffles, tears, and hiccups were gone. His face was still a bit puffy, and his eyes swollen and red. Pavel was pretty sure that was nothing compared to his backside though. He'd only used light force, swinging from the elbow only. But on a silk pajama clad backside that's never felt a moderate belt-spanking, he knew that fiery burn would make a perfectly adequate impression without leaving any bruising or residual soreness the next day. Harry would assuredly stand to eat this immediate meal, but within 3 hours this licking would be naught but a memory. Even less than that, if Dobby came as expected.

"Are you all right now, Harry?" Pavel asked, checking if he could disengage enough to arrange for Harry's dinner.

"Yes, sir. I'm OK. I just like sitting here like this." Harry giggled, as he tried to snuggle again into Papa's chest.

"Uh, huh. Well, my little scamp, I need to see about your dinner, and you need to quit stalling your bedtime. If you want to wash up without your friends seeing you, just Blink to and from the bathroom. Use the one in my bedroom, so that no... er... accidental awkwardness should occur in case a guest uses the one in the hallway. I'm going to Blink to my Study, since I can tell that the children, John, and Oxsana are in the living room. I've already told your friends that you are unavailable tonight, so don't even try..." he preemptively cut off the complaint he could see forming on Harry's face.

Pavel stood up, lifting Harry carefully to his feet. Using magesight, he could tell that Harry's backside was well tanned, but there was no injury. Still, Harry's hand would probably feel the heat radiating off it, even through his pajama pants, from a good three or four inches away.

"Your dinner will be here very soon. Figure out how you want to eat. I'll see you before you go to sleep." Pavel tousled his hair.

"Can I get a story to go to sleep?" Harry yawned, as all the adrenaline of the last hour started to hit him with its crash.

"We'll see, Scamp. We'll see," and with that, he replaced his wand and sheath, cuff links, belt, vest and houserobe, then blinked to his Study. Once there, he called to Dobby, requesting a dinner of Harry's favorite foods and dessert, and bid Dobby go join the boy while he ate and comfort his friend. He reminded the elf, if Harry refused magical healing, to let Pavel know. This was not a school-administered punishment, and Pavel had not forbidden magical healing, but it would be interesting to see how Harry responded to the offer.

In the meantime, Pavel walked out to join the rest of the family for the evening.

Everyone greeted him warmly as John looked up at him with a twinkle in his eye and asked, "Are your cuff links back in straight?"

"Perfectly straight, thank you, as is my wand."

Only Oxsana got the reference, having engaged in this "ritual" herself a time or two.

Ron, Hermione, John and Oxsana were engaged in a lively game of Monopoly at the time, rather awkwardly ignoring the apparent elephant in the room, wanting to ask about Harry. Pavel just went to his favorite chair and took down a book of poetry to unwind for a bit. A few minutes later, Dobby appeared, standing by the Study door, beckoning Pavel for a quiet word. Pavel joined him.

"Yes, Dobby?"

"Master Harry has eaten dinner, but wouldn't let me heal him. He said he didn't want to 'sneak' something that might not be allowed," Dobby looked sad.

"Thank you, Dobby. That is wonderful news, and just so you know... I am going to heal him right now, so he is just fine. You may 'sneak' him some warm milk and biscuits between 8 and 8:30, if he's not asleep when you get there. If he is asleep, just leave them on his desk for a bit, and collect them later if he doesn't waken."

"Yes, Master... thank you!" Dobby nodded, looking much happier.

Pavel went to Harry's door and knocked, as the Monopolists tried to pretend that they were ignoring all of this. They all heard Harry's answering permission to enter, and watched Pavel as he smiled to go in.

Harry was standing as Pavel entered, "Yes, sir?"

"Well done, my lad!" Papa said. "I know that my authority has been quite restored. Dobby's offer to heal you was not a 'test', but if it were, you'd have passed with flying colors. Just so you know, school punishments are not to be healed by magic except with the permission of the offended authority, but unless you are told otherwise, family consequences can be. It is considered bad form, however, to ASK for relief. If someone offers it out of compassion, it is perfectly all right to accept. Let me heal you. Turn about, please."

Pavel placed his hand hovering at Harry waist, stopping short of contact and closing his eyes as his hand glowed golden, issuing a soft golden light shining out covering Harry's lower back to his knees. The boy took on an expression first of peace then pleasure, feeling the throbbing heat and sting still present in his bottom cool down and settle to perfect comfort. He hadn't realized how tense he still was in his shoulders, back and legs, until the tension drained away and he was back in tip top shape.

"There you are, son. Good as new..." Pavel laughed, opening his eyes and patting Harry on the shoulder.

Harry bounced up and down on his feet like a jackrabbit, testing his condition and expressing his relief and joy.

"Wow, thank you so much, sir. I didn't expect that. Are you sure? I mean... well..." Harry expressed a moment of doubt.

"Yes, I'm sure, Harry. Will you ever do that again?" Pavel asked, seriously.

"No, sir."

"Is hurting for the next two hours going to make you any less likely to do that again?"

"No, sir."

"Then you don't need to hurt for the next two hours, do you? It won't teach you anything you've not already learned, will it?"

"No, sir. Not a thing." Harry nodded.

"Good. Now, in recognition of your reform, I am willing to relent just a TOUCH on the rest of your penalty. You may stay up until 8:00 if you wish, and socialize with family... though you may not play... after which you will excuse yourself and go to bed, and I shall tuck you in and... yes... tell you a story. You may remain here if you'd rather not come out. Whichever you prefer. What would you like to do?"

"Papa? May I make a strange request?" Harry said, experimentally rubbing his backside to confirm that he was as right as rain, then straightening his robe, slippers, glasses and wand in its sheath. Papa and John had never relented on the rule that his wand was to be on his person at all times from morning rising until he went to bed.

"You may. Though until I hear it, I cannot automatically approve it," Pavel replied with some curiosity.

"I know Ron and Hermione have to be worried. And I may as well tell them what's going on now, privately, than try not to be overheard at breakfast or between classes tomorrow. And I feel like it's only right to speak to Professor McGonagall. I'd rather do that before Professor Lockhart has a chance to speak with her. If I get detention or something from her, well... I can't say I don't deserve it. Though maybe, under the circumstances..." and he rubbed his backside with an impish grin.

"I see. So, would you like me to ask Professor McGonagall to join us for a few minutes? Would you like to see her separately, or do you plan to speak to everyone together?" Pavel asked, admiring both Harry's integrity to come clean, along with his political acumen in making the best of his circumstances, hoping for mercy from Minerva based on his recent discomfort.

"By your leave, sir," - Harry tried using an 'ultra formal' mode of address he'd recently learned from John, when needed for purposes of 'managing' Papa - "I'd appreciate only having to tell the story once. In fact, would it be possible to arrange the furniture as if for Inquiry, with Professor McGonagall having the head chair?"

"Indeed, son." Pavel nodded approvingly. The boy was showing distinct political aptitude. "Leave it to me. I'll let you know when all is in readiness. It will take a moment or two to see if Professor McGonagall is available."

"Righto. I'll be right there. Thank you, Papa."

Pavel walked out smiling, as he closed Harry's bedroom door behind him, and walked to the fireplace in his study to call to Professor McGonagall. "Professor? Are you busy?" he inquired of his floo.

"Not particularly, Paul" she responded through mind-speak. "What do you need? I've just been sitting with my feet up for a bit, reading a novel." Her office door was charmed such that if someone knocked, she would hear the summons and could answer verbally or step through from her quarters to her office instantly by floo.

"Ah, I hate to interrupt such moments of rest and relaxation, but Harry would like to speak with his Head of House for a moment." Pavel replied, coding his words to give Minerva a framework for response.

"I see," she chuckled. "Do I sense a confession or apology in the offing?"

"That is a distinct possibility, yes." Pavel answered.

"And, do I take it the situation has already been addressed at home?"

"It has, kind lady. But, as Harry is aware, that has been a matter only of family discipline. There is no foreclosure of academic consequences that may be due."

"I understand, Paul. I'll be right there."

"Thank you, Minerva."

When Minerva stepped through to Pavel's Study, and he opened the door to the living room, he ushered her to her seat as head of an Inquiry. There was only a single student chair present, as there was no question of Solidarity to be considered. Harry's chair, this time, rested at an angle where he could address both Professor McGonagall and the sitting area where the children had been playing. As they stepped through, Pavel mind-spoke to Harry, "The Professor has arrived. The room is ready for you."

Harry came out of his bedroom wearing the royal blue crested robe over his pajamas and slippers, nodded a cheery greeting to the Monopolists, and went to stand in front of his chair to address them all.

"Thank you for coming, Professor. I'm sorry to disturb your evening, but I did something wrong today and I want to tell you about it, rather than you hearing some other way. Guys..." he continued, looking at Ron and Hermione... "I know you've wondered what's going on, and I really just wanted to tell this once, so... here we go... I, um, cheated on my Dark Arts exam today, but I didn't mean to at first, but then this strange thing happened, and..." and so he told the whole story of learning he could read Lockhart, then doing the exam that way, then finding out about his criminal activity, then disclosing all that to him. Then he described sharing all this with John, and then Pavel. He explained his current pajama-clad self as a sanction for his behavior, and being sent to bed early as one of his punishments.

It took a few moments for everyone to digest all the information. Reactions ranged from surprise at Harry's confession of cheating, to outrage at Lockhart's crimes, to amazement that Harry had developed natural legilimens, along with deep curiosity from Ron at whether and how Harry had been punished, Hermione's amazement at the implications of taking an exam with spontaneous mind-reading going on, then John laughing at him, and the distinct sense of being batted away! Harry realized eventually, he was doing it again! He wasn't hearing people say things to or about him... He was hearing people think things about him. He wasn't sure HOW or WHY he'd started doing it again... just that it was happening.

"Papa?" he began to ask, looking up at Pavel with an expression of bewilderment and dismay.

"I know, son. Right now, before you've learned to control this, it will tend to happen spontaneously when either someone is thinking something about or to you with extreme clarity or emotion... or when you want to know something and are anxious or otherwise highly motivated about it," Pavel spoke aloud.

"Wait a moment, Paul!" Minerva turned to him, surprise overcoming her intention of formality, "are you telling us that right now, Harry is..."

"Yes and no, Professor. Harry is not intentionally intruding on anyone's thoughts. However, he is hearing unguarded thoughts regarding himself. Particularly from the children at this time." Pavel answered.

Curiosity overcoming her sense of administrative propriety, Minerva turned to Harry asking, "Mr. Potter, see if you can discern my thoughts right now. I grant permission."

Harry relaxed, looking at her, and said, "I believe you are trying to decide whether I deserve a detention or not. And you can't decide because you don't know to what extent I've been punished already. But you're..." and Harry blushed at this, stammering to silence.

Minerva smiled warmly, "Go on, Mr. Potter. Go ahead and say it out loud."

"You're proud of me for coming forward and facing the music, as a Gryffindor should, when I could have avoided punishment by staying quiet."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. That settles my mind a great deal. Now, as I know you would otherwise share this information with Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, may I ask what penalty you suffered for your misdeed? You are quite welcome not to say, as I know that is a personal question, but it would indeed help me structure my own response. To choose, as you did, to turn in an examination with your answers knowingly drawn from your professor's mind, is quite out of order. I grant, however, that there are a considerable number of factors surrounding that decision... such as the onset of a new ability, your general contempt for the professor in question - and no, Harry, I don't consider that a positive factor - and your discovery of his unethical or illegal conduct... that would indeed bear on my deliberations."

Harry mind-spoke to Pavel, "Papa, would you explain? I mean, with the John thing and all? It just feels too complicated for me. Or embarrassing, or something... just... help?"

"Harry has asked me to answer this. I'll be glad to. When Harry discussed this with John this afternoon, they discussed the difference of consequences that would exist between Harry as my ward, formerly of the Dursley household, and John as my son. For John, as my son, these cardinal family rules are a multi-generational tradition of our house and line, and the penalty for their violation is to be strapped, without exception. For Harry, consequences would be different due to his history. Today, Harry asked that no such exception be applied, that he be fully treated and accountable as a Konstantyn son. He did not, and does not, want the Dursley's to have any impact on his relationship in this family, even as to the issue of his discipline with regard to family custom. I have granted that request, and Harry has no further exceptions or exemptions. Therefore, in accordance with Harry's direct request, as fully my son, for cheating on his mid term examination, Harry was spanked with my belt. I am certain that given the same circumstances, he would not again make the same decision to misbehave. The matter is now closed, as to our cardinal rules and family consequences. Your options, however, are entirely open, Professor."

"I see. Well, thank you, Harry, for being willing to share that information with me. That does, indeed, clarify my choices. Cheating on your examination is not appropriate for a Gryffindor. As Head of Gryffindor House..." and Minerva watched Harry's eyes close as he took a deep breath, hoping he wasn't going to be restricted from the Quidditch team or grounded from flying, or worse... "you will report to my office tomorrow, whereupon I will give you a textbook from my restricted collection, Transfiguration and Animagic. You will read and review Chapter One over the weekend, and we will go over that together Monday. You will then review THAT work, with your family here, and we will proceed from there. Is this understood?" Professor McGonagall's voice had made this entire assignment sound very stern and harsh.

But... Harry's eyes opened as he heard her speak, as a great grin took over his features... "But... Professor... that's what I've..."

"Silence, Potter!" she cut him off with just the slightest hint of a smile. "I'll have no backtalk from ye! Now, do you accept your punishment meekly, or no?"

"Yes, ma'am." he nodded, trying very hard to look 'punished'.

"Verra well, then. I believe that concludes our business. Go on wi' ye, and chat with yer friends. I gather from yer dress, yer being sent to bed eairly, no?" She smiled at Harry's nod. "All right. I'll not take up more o' yer tyme! Off ye go..." and she rose, with her teacup to walk over to Pavel as he stood near the Study door. "Ah, wait," Minerva said, setting her teacup down for a moment. "How serious are you about being fully a 'Konstantyn son' now?"

Harry was a bit confused, as he stopped traversing the living room towards the Monopoly table. "Quite serious, Professor."

"Then come here a moment, please," she requested, waiting for him. "Hold out your hand," she commanded, when he reached her. John and Pavel both smiled as she took Harry's hand, inverted it, and spatted the back quite firmly.

"Ow!" protested Harry, more with surprise than with pain, though the blow did sting a mite.

"John will explain that," she laughed. "THAT was for Iryna, who, I've no doubt would have been very proud of you as her son. Now... off ye go!" and she dismissed him, picking up her teacup again as she and Pavel retired into his Study, leaving the door open.

"And don't think I don't know what you did with that 'punishment', Minerva!" Pavel muttered in mock disapproval, as he and she sat down in the Study's sitting area to let the young'ns relax together a bit. Pavel kept an eye on the clock, seeing that Harry had 40 minutes or so left of liberty before 'storytime' and bed. "You're as soft-hearted as Iryna! With consequences like that you will spoil the boy shamelessly! You know how much Harry has wanted you to let him start studying that!"

"Of course, though he has no idea that you and I have been discussing it. But after seeing that he's broken through legilimens, not to mention Blink on his own, how long do you think it would be... as badly as he wants to be an animagus like you and John... before he broke through that on his own as well? You know damned well, he's going to keep pondering on that like a dog worries a bone. I'm bound and determined that he should learn some of the traditional theory and safety procedures, before his magical passion just breaks out in some naturalistic form. He already has such skill forming an imago with full conviction, he'll only be limited by his arcana for the moment. Considering his skill with animals as it is..."

"Pfft! I know you're right, Minerva. That doesn't mean I have to LIKE it!" Pavel growled in mock ill humor. He had this terrible conflict of emotions and interest between the pride and excitement of seeing how talented and skilled his protege was... at the same time as wishing he would slow down a bit, letting prudence catch up with his ability. "As it is, I'm going to have to set protections in place to keep his mind skills from becoming 'inconvenient' at best, or downright 'intrusive' at worst. Normally, these abilities would manifest first in some degree of isolation, so we can train the novice in their use and control before exposing him or her to large groups. What I'm MOST concerned about is the obverse ability here, he will have a largely unconscious ability to influence the thinking of others. People will 'have a bright idea' out of the blue, that they will believe is their own... that will fulfill a desire of his that he may or may not even consciously recognize. I think if Severus can begin to train him in occlumens, that discipline will be a great help."

"Ha!" Minerva replied. "Those are some lessons I would pay to see! Although Harry... in fact, BOTH of them... have come very far in developing their relationship, I daresay it will be asking a lot for Severus to tutor Harry in mind magic. Nonetheless, I agree of course. Well..." she sighed, finishing her tea and rising to head towards the apartment door. She would avoid the pyrotechnics and soot this time. "I feel a novel calling my name. If there's nothing else, Professor? And if Gilderoy brings the matter of the exam to me, I shall consider it already dealt with. You'll be receiving no 'notes home' from Head of Gryffindor House."

"Thank you so much, dear lady, for always being such a support for our little man. He really is quite dear to me, you know."

"I do, indeed, Paul. And to me as well. I couldn't be happier that he's determined to become a Konstantyn. I can think of nothing better for him. Goodnight, rest well." So saying, she exited the Study and walked out the hallway door, being just down the hall from her own apartment without needing the floo network, and all its associated soot.

Pavel relaxed at his fireplace until his interior timesense told him it was 7:59, whereupon he entered the living room and, with naught but a cleared throat, called his youngest son away from his friends with a cheery "G'nite all", to hear Ron's response of "G'nite, mate", as Harry bowed to John and Oxsana, to head to his bedroom. Pavel brought the desk chair over to Harry's bedside, as Harry hung up his robe, took off his holster, wand, and glasses, and climbed into bed without demur.

Pavel tucked him in, tousled his hopeless mop of hair for a moment, and simply began... "Vonce upon a time..."

* s/13060295/1/Justice-Must-Be-Served

A/N: Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort