Another update. The usual disclaimer. Read and review!
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sirius was alive. That was about all that could be said for him. His injuries were considerable, severe. The concussive spell that struck him had ruptured several of his internal organs and caused considerable damage to his ribcage. If it hadn't been for the hastily erected shield cast by one of the aurors, Sirius would never have survived the strike. As it was, he was still unconscious.
Harry had been brought to see him once, to verify that his godfather was indeed alive, but several days had passed since them with little change to his guardian's condition. And Harry had spent those days still at the compound, but he knew that there was an increasingly urgent drive to find a place for him to relocate in the short term before the fall term began.
They couldn't take him back to Grimmauld Place; that he understood. The location had been compromised, and while the house had a considerable defensive structure in place, there was always the possibility that the place had been cleaned out and that traps had been laid contingent upon their return to the house. The Weasleys were an option at first, but there was concern as to security there, and Harry himself had little desire to put his friends at risk if he was indeed a target.
And so the discussion became about whether or not to simply move him back to Hogwarts sooner than normal. He would certainly (he hoped) be allowed to leave at times to visit Diagon Alley or the Weasleys, but he would maintain residence in the castle, at least until Sirius was well.
Harry would admit quite willingly that he was partial to this course of action, as a few months in Hogwarts with an almost free run of the castle and library seemed like a decent enough way to spend the summer. But the reason that this idea hadn't already been decided upon was that with the transition that Hogwarts was undergoing, from old headmaster to new, it was unknown whether or not the new headmaster would approve. In fact, very few people even knew who had been tabbed for that position.
His two minders were still the same. Fawcett seemed to Harry to be decent enough, but Tonks was another matter entirely. She seemed to hold Harry personally responsible for the inconvenience and for the fact that she had to spend several hours of the day minding him as opposed to doing whatever it was that she wanted to be doing instead. She certainly never told Harry what that might have been.
On the upside, Harry did have the opportunity to practice his dueling abilities with Fawcett, who was more than willing to teach Harry a few new tricks. He had been given a wand that had been lying around, Harry didn't honestly know where it came from, but it wasn't at all a perfect suit for him. It still worked, and better than the few other's he'd been given to try, but it was far from his old wand. And of course, regardless of the wand, Harry's ability was nowhere near the auror trainee, but as the days past, Harry found himself picking up Fawcett's tendencies, understanding the way in which the trainee moved and responded to different sorts of attacks or offensive strategies. And on the seventh day after the incident and Harry's subsequent relocation to the auror headquarters, Harry had what seemed like a breakthrough.
Fawcett and Harry had been dueling in one of the many training rooms scattered throughout the building. As per usual, Harry had been routinely beaten back and stunned several times over the course of the session. What wasn't entirely typical, however, was the fact that it had begun to take Fawcett several moments longer each time to disarm Harry and/or render him senseless. Harry had gotten somewhat accustomed to the new wand, to the way it responded to his magic. It felt, in some ways, a little blocked, a little like trying to squeeze himself through a straw, but he'd still managed to find a way to get it to respond as naturally as he could manage.
As the session progressed, Harry noticed a tendency for Fawcett to leave his weak side open when sidestepping or dodging an attack. His shields were far too strong for any of Harry's spells to overcome, and he had to work in an attack that would force Fawcett to dodge and not cast a shield. That would require mobility. At times Fawcett also seemed to fall into a pattern, casting twice before defending, alternately switching between being offensively minded and defensively minded.
Harry started this round with a stunner aimed slightly to his left, knowing that Fawcett would see the trajectory and not attempt to move out of the way. Fawcett had been hanging back, allowing Harry to make the first move, and so he followed up his intentionally errant stunner with a disarming hex cast slightly to the right, with the intent of keeping Fawcett penned in one spot.
Fawcett obliged, ducking low and turning sideways to reduce the target presented to Harry before sending concurrent stunners in return. Harry effortlessly sidestepped the streaming spells and moved quickly to the side, casting the most damaging spell he knew, a bludgeoning hex, at the ground surrounding the auror trainee.
Fawcett producing a shimmering blue shield which protected him from the physical debris showering the area. But this defensive stance provided Harry with a chance to keep moving and to keep changing the landscape of the duel. He continued firing to both sides of Fawcett, still reining him in to a small physical space, but Fawcett just stayed in his defensive posture, his shields absorbing anything Harry threw his way.
As the duel progressed, Harry felt himself tiring, his body reacting to the several bouts they had fought prior to this one as well as the strain of casting so many spells in succession. Sensing this, Fawcett dropped his shield and moved on the offensive, sending jets of concussive energy Harry's way in rapid succession. Harry did not even try to shield himself from these spells; he fell to the ground under them and attempted to send a stunner from his prone position on the ground. But before he could get the spell off he was forced to roll away from a jet of fire that scorched the floor directly where Harry had just been stationed. Harry, correctly guessing that Fawcett would now return to the defensive rather than go for the victory, jumped to his feet and cast his own shield, attempting to create a stalemate situation.
A moment passed with neither attempting an offensive spell before Fawcett sent a simple stunner to test Harry's shield. The spell made contact and dissipated quickly, Harry's shield standing strong. Fawcett nodded at this, and took his time measuring for an attack on Harry's shield that would break it without also breaking Harry. Taking advantage of this moment, the boy dropped his shield suddenly and rushed towards the auror trainee at a dead sprint. Fawcett, slightly caught off guard, took a step back and fired a stunner towards his torso. Harry dove under the spell and rolled to his feet in an aggressive position, firing a disarming hex towards the trainee who dodged, spinning to his left. Harry had projected this, having seen Fawcett carry out the same technique several times over the course of their duels, and sent a stunner to the exact position he expected Fawcett to end up in. The man had successfully eluded Harry's first hex only to find himself caught in the chest by Harry's stunner as he turned back to face the boy. He hit the ground and Harry flushed with victory.
He revived the man and Fawcett stood groggily.
"Good one, Harry." He spoke. "I didn't see that one coming. You're coming along exceptionally well for your age."
Harry smiled and nodded. "These past days have been great for me. I'm able to read what's going on in front of me so much better now than before."
Fawcett smiled. "Now Harry, you're doing well, that's certainly beyond argument. But I've been taking it easy on you."
Harry smirked. "Trying to save face? Stunned by an eleven year old?"
Fawcett grinned in return. "Would you like to try me?"
Harry laughed. "Sure, why not. Let's give it another go."
The two stepped back the ten paces required according to tradition, and turned to face one another.
"You ready for this, Potter?"
Harry nodded slightly, his wand at the ready.
"Then we begin." Fawcett bowed slightly and then, with a complicated wave of his wand sent a bright blue curse towards Harry, one he didn't recognize. Having taken Sirius' words to heart, Harry dove out of the trajectory of the curse, which left a significant mark on the wall behind where Harry had been standing. Harry raised his eyebrows.
Fawcett laughed. "I told you I wouldn't hold back." He then proceeded to cast spells at a rate Harry had rarely seen, forcing him to dodge around the room, giving him no opportunity to return fire. Fawcett then waved his wand, creating two walls of fire to Harry's left and right, essentially cutting off his ability to run. Harry stood his ground and finally got off bludgeoning hex. Fawcett batted away the spell with a flick of his wand and redirected it back in Harry's direction. He ducked under the spell only to find himself caught with a stunner that had been cast right behind the redirected spell.
Fawcett revived him, grinning widely. "Nice try, Harry. But I think you've got a ways to go."
Harry just nodded meekly.
The two left the room, Harry sweating far more than the brown haired man to his left. As they returned to the room with cots and lockers, they could see Tonks waiting with her arms crossed.
"Potter," she spoke sharply. "You've got a letter." She handed Harry an envelope and walked off, gesturing for Fawcett to follow along with her. He shrugged at Harry and went off with Tonks down the hall.
Harry retreated to one of the cots and sat back, deftly removing the parchment inside from the envelope outside. It was from Dumbledore himself.
Harry,
I'm glad to hear that you made it through your ordeal relatively unscathed. I am glad that you thought of me as a person to contact, as we were able to discern quickly what had occurred once I received your owl. I also offer my condolences, I am very sorry to hear about your godfather and with him a speedy recovery. Harry, I am writing to you because I would like to offer you my dwelling as a place for you to stay until the fall term starts up again or Sirius becomes well. If you are willing to consider this offer, please respond to this letter, if not no response is required. Again, Harry, I'm glad to hear that you are okay, and I sincerely hope that this letter finds you well and in good spirits.
Albus Dumbledore
Harry looked at the letter in surprise. He had a great amount of respect for the man, but the two had had some significant difficulties in the past as well. It seemed slightly out of character for Dumbledore to extend him this offer, but regardless he had to consider it. Living with Dumbledore… could be some perks to that. He wondered what Sirius would suggest, but he obviously couldn't weigh in on the subject at that particular moment. This thought couldn't help but cause him distress. He was told that Sirius would be okay, but he couldn't really trust them, he doubted they even knew for sure when Sirius would next be awake.
But his mind was made up. He'd take Dumbledore up on his offer, for a summer with Albus Dumbledore could only be intriguing.
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Lucius Malfoy was incensed. This was not exactly the way he had intended for the aftermath to play out. First of all, this was never supposed to be a public incident. His spotter had acted too soon, acted out of turn. Of course the man had been… removed… from his position, but the damage was already done. The public had gotten wind of the attack on a popular auror and his even more popular godson. The intent had been for Black to simply disappear, but that possibility had gone out the window. The public outcry couldn't bode well for him; it gave his opponents room to suggest that he wasn't adequately protecting the public. It was, in particular, the capture of Potter that had him angry. He had been struggling with several of the other factions in the party, and he had believed that the decision had been made to follow his advice in regards to the middle ground. But no. They had gone another route, and it made him furious. Potter was not to be touched! He was too important. And additionally, in a surprise to him and everyone else, Potter had turned out to be a Slytherin. There was a chance that the child of prophecy (that damned prophecy. It was hardly common knowledge, but there were too many factions that knew of its existence) could end up supporting them in their cause. There was no reason, according to the prophecy, that he couldn't. It didn't resign him to being a pawn of the light, after all.
But those chances go downhill with each time he encounters pain at the hands of those whom he would have to support. And so he had to do something. He needed to truly secure the boy's trust. When he had spoken to him, the boy seemed somewhat trusting and cautiously optimistic. He could only hope that was still the case, that the boy still viewed him in that light.
The boy's living situation presented an opportunity. Who could object to the Boy-Who-Lived spending his summer with the family of one of the most popular ministers of the past century?
Draco and Potter had become friendly in his son's estimation, and so it shouldn't be too difficult for the Potter boy to assimilate quickly into the lifestyle to which his family was accustomed. It was a perfect solution.
He slapped the Prophet from several days prior on the desk in front of him and floo'd to the auror department, intent on locating the boy and bringing him to the prestigious Malfoy Manor.
There he found Harry in the company of one of the auror trainees; he didn't know the young man's name. But the trainee, seeing his Minister walking casually, bowed slightly with evident respect. Harry looked up at this, having not noticed the minister previously. A light frown flitted across his face before it slipped back into a mask of relative neutrality.
Malfoy himself frowned internally at this. It wasn't a good sign that the boy was somewhat upset with his presence. He spoke cordially, masking any sense of frustration that might have otherwise been present.
"Mister Fawcett, Mister Potter, good to see you both."
Harry nodded, with Fawcett responding enthusiastically. "It's an honor to meet you sir."
Lucius smiled graciously. "I was hoping I might get a chance to speak to you, Harry, but I'm afraid it will have to wait a few moments longer." He turned to speak directly to Fawcett. "I would greatly appreciate it if you would help me to find and speak with your superior. I'm positive that Harry can survive being on his own for a few moments while we seek him out. After all, word around the ministry is that Harry is impressively capable with his wand. I don't think you have to worry."
Fawcett agreed. "Of course sir. I'll take you now. Harry, I'll catch you later?"
Harry shrugged. "Sure."
"All right then. Follow me, if you will Minister."
And the two swept down the hallway and out of sight. As the two walked, Lucius probed the man about his time spent with Potter. Fawcett was only too happy to oblige, raving about the child's maturity and talents with a wand. The young trainee was clearly impressed with the boy in just about every way. And it seemed that Potter enjoyed the man's company and companionship as well. This gave him an idea. He took Fawcett by the arm and stopped him, making sure that the conversation would take place outside of earshot of the others in the auror department.
"Fawcett, would you mind telling me your first name?"
He nodded. "David, sir."
Lucius smiled lightly. "David Fawcett. You seem to be a promising young man of talent, a good head on your shoulders."
"Thank you sir."
Malfoy continued. "How would you say you perform with a wand?"
Fawcett paused. "I… I would say I perform well, sir."
Malfoy grinned at this. "Now now, no need to be modest son. Tell me the truth, how do you feel you stack up when compared to the established aurors and your fellow trainee?"
"Honestly, sir? Tonks hasn't bested me once in a duel. My grades out of Hogwarts barely qualified me for the program, but I was accepted because I can outduel all but the senior aurors."
Malfoy's smile grew wider at this. "Perfect! I'm telling you this now in confidence, for the moment, but I would like to secure your services for my private detail as soon as you complete your training and are sworn in as a qualified regular. I could use a fine upstanding young man such as you."
Fawcett's eyes grew wide. "Sir, thank you so much. I promise you won't regret this decision."
Lucius chuckled lightly. "I'm certain that I won't."
The two continued down the hall, coming across by fortuitous chance the man Lucius had been intending to see in the first place.
"Auror Scrimgeour." Malfoy spoke warmly, extending his hand. The senior auror took it heartily. "Minister Malfoy, so good to see you again. Might I enquire as to the nature of your visit? Not that I don't welcome your presence here at all times."
Malfoy smiled and nodded at Fawcett, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. The trainee turned, after nodding in return, and went back the way he came to find his young charge.
"Rufus, I've heard that there's been some difficulty in finding a place for young mister Potter to stay for the remainder of the summer."
Scrimgeour nodded. "Indeed. We're running low on viable options at the moment. Although there has been a recent addition to the list, one that Harry himself seems particularly set on."
Malfoy frowned. "Oh? And who is this mysterious benefactor."
Rufus grimaced. "Albus Dumbledore."
Lucius' frown grew darker at this. He spoke sharply. "Absolutely not. I will not allow it."
The senior auror raised his hand palm upwards as if to surrender. "This isn't my idea, Lucius. And I wouldn't go along with it if we had any better option. But at the moment, we don't. If you have a suggestion…"
Malfoy paused. "Indeed I do. The boy, Potter, will spend the summer with me and my family at Malfoy Manor."
Rufus cocked his head to the side. "Are you certain, Minister? It could provide something of an inconvenience."
"Nonsense. Malfoy Manor is a far more appropriate setting for a boy of Harry's age. Besides, he's a classmate of my son Draco; it will be a far more comfortable summer for Harry if he spends it with a friend his own age. He will be well taken care of until his godfather has recovered adequately."
Rufus shrugged. "If you insist, so be it. I suppose I'm inclined to agree with you in any case."
"Good. I must be going now, but I'll have Narcissa come as soon as possible to collect the boy."
Rufus nodded and Malfoy strode from the room, a wide grin plastered on his face.
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Harry was frustrated. It wasn't that he had any particular dislike for the Malfoy's per se, but he had been very much looking forward to spending time with the legendary former headmaster. But now he found himself situated in one of the Malfoy's many guest rooms. It wasn't as if he had any way to complain. The room itself was lavish beyond belief, and he had every comfort attended to by the family's house elves. The food was delicious, and his time had been well occupied with Quidditch (which he was far better at than Draco, to the other boy's chagrin) and a vast library in which he was allowed free reign.
The only element of concern lay in the form of Draco's mother, Narcissa. The blond woman bore a striking resemblance to the woman he had encountered during his imprisonment. He didn't believe her to be the same woman, but there was such a strong similarity between the two, he could not help but wonder. But of course, he could not simply enquire as to this resemblance, he didn't dare ask the question outright. And so he buried the query and tried not to think about it, despite the vaguely uncomfortable feeling that arose within him every time he say the woman.
He was broken from this musing by a pounding at the door. He opened it to find Draco standing in front of him, two shiny new brooms in his hand.
"You, me, Quidditch. Now."
Harry smiled and nodded, taking one of the brooms from Malfoy and inspecting it as they made their way to the pitch on the grounds of Malfoy Manor.
"It's a Nimbus 2001." Draco told him. "The newest model on the market. Father purchased one for each of us."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Malfoy got there first. "Just shut up and take the damn broom. It's not as if we can't afford it."
Harry swallowed hard, but nodded. "Sure," he said as the two reached the perfectly manicured lawn of the Malfoy's private pitch.
Malfoy fashioned himself a seeker, as did Harry, and so the two would typically play by having a one on one race for the snitch. Harry was the winner far more often than not, something which bothered Draco to no end. Today, though, Malfoy was brimming with confidence. Harry, noting this, spoke. "You know, I'll be riding a new broom also."
Malfoy waved him off. "I'm not worried. You're not experienced enough to know how to handle a broom with such raw power as this one." And with that, Malfoy released the snitch and jumped on his broom, kicking off hard and rocketing through the sky at breakneck speed. Harry took his own newly minted broom and followed swiftly.
Harry tailed the other boy closely, their competition having immediately begun upon taking flight. He chose to let Draco take the lead, content that his skill and speed would carry him past Draco if he did happened to spot the snitch first. But if he went out on his own looking for the snitch, there was a possibility that Malfoy would encounter it first and grab the victory by pure luck. And so he chose the course that most effectively took luck out of the equation.
As they were flying over the pitch, Harry could see that Malfoy was growing frustrated. He had yet to see any sign of the golden snitch despite his speed on the new broom. He was indeed moving far more swiftly than was typical for him, but it didn't seem to help his vision at all, and this was still the most important aspect of being a seeker. The snitch had to actually be found. Harry, trying to salvage some of Draco's pride out of some notion of, well, self preservation, to tell the truth (he didn't much care to spend the summer with a boy constantly angry with him for beating him at the game), called out for Malfoy to stop. Malfoy did, coming to a hover in front of Harry.
"What?" he asked angrily.
"Wait." Harry said, flying back down towards the ground. He grabbed the quaffle that was a part of the set and tossed it to Malfoy. "Now, I know I'm no keeper, but try to score on me. It's worth a try."
Malfoy looked at the red ball in his hands and shrugged. Harry, taking this as a sign of acceptance, flew over to the hoops and situated himself in front of them. "Give me your best shot!" he shouted, and Malfoy did.
The boy sped towards the hoops at top speed, attempting a fake before throwing the quaffle with all his might. But Harry, having not bitten at the first move, intercepted the throw easily. Malfoy's cheeks tinted red, but he called for the quaffle again and gave it another try.
But five attempts later Malfoy was still no better off, having still not managed to put one quaffle passed Harry. Growling in frustration, Draco demanded that the two switch places. Harry agreed, but they were interrupted by Lucius walking out from the large house gesturing for the two of them to come down. The two flew to the ground to meet him.
Draco hit the ground roughly, clearly agitated, while Harry landed softly to his side. He spoke first.
"Minister, thank you very much for your kind gesture, but I'm not sure I can accept it. It is simply too much. I'd be happy to purchase the broom myself…"
"Nonsense, Harry!" Lucius interrupted. "It is no difficulty for us. I could afford to supply the entire Slytherin team without feeling any ill effect in my wallet. This is a gift, Harry. Consider it an early birthday present if you must."
Harry nodded, biting his tongue. Draco interjected roughly. "What is it you wanted from us, father?"
Lucius gave him a sharp glare. "Mind your tone, Draco. And I'm here for you, Harry. You have a visitor."
Draco muttered an apology under his breath as his father took Harry off towards the house, leaving Draco alone on the court.
As Harry walked with Malfoy, he was led to the entrance hall of the grand mansion. There, he was greeted by an unexpected visitor.
"A word, Harry?" Came the voice from his professor, Tom Riddle, situated patiently on one of the lush chairs reserved for guests. Harry nodded quickly, and Riddle stood, leading Harry out from the building and leading him on a walk of the grounds of Malfoy Manor.
