Harry made it back to the Weasleys and flopped down on his bed. He'd left Snape's too soon. He had another three hours before dinner.
Damn it how can a day go so slowly?
He'd gone all day pretending to be more than he was. First pretending to know what he was doing with warding magic, only to pretend he knew what to do in a damn battle, to pretend he belonged in the violence, to pretend he was more than the irrational, stupid rash ugly child that Snape saw. Now he had to pretend he had any damn clue what he was doing in the war, unsure the deaths he caused were even progressing toward anything.
Harry woke at Mrs. Weasley's call for dinner, only realizing as he sat up, groaning at his newborn headache, that he'd gone to sleep in his clothes.
"Ugh." Harry groaned aloud, feeling the old sweat in his now-rumpled robes. He'd shower and change after dinner, he decided as he stumbled toward the stairs, rubbing at his eyes.
"You okay, Harry?"
Harry turned quickly at the voice and saw Ron looking at him worriedly.
"Alright." Harry answered, blinking at the first civil words Ron had said to him since the start of break. Ron nodded quickly and rushed down the steps in front of him.
Harry nodded to himself, hoping things would be getting better now. They'd certainly shared enough drama over the holiday for his taste.
Dinner was quiet, quieter than Harry thought he'd ever known at a Weasley meal. Mrs. Weasley spent most of it with her hand in Mr. Weasley's, glancing around quietly as if searching for something to strengthen her nerves. Hermione was apparently already gone, Harry noted silently.
The funeral was scheduled for the next morning, and Charlie said he was planning to leave right after. Mrs. Weasley sniffled and nodded at the announcement, told him he'd be missed, and left anything else unsaid.
Mrs. Weasley told them all that she'd handle the dishes, and at Mr. Weasley's encouraging nod, the rest of the family split up throughout the house.
Harry went to find one of the older Weasley sons and found Charlie and Ginny sitting in the hallway in front of Bill and Charlie's room, playing Magic McJacks.
"I wouldn't go in there if I were you." Charlie grinned, gesturing with his head toward the bedroom.
"Sex?" Harry asked, sitting beside the board and wanting to grin as he saw Ginny start to blush and realized that if it weren't for the war he'd have been blushing right beside her.
"Worse, wedding plans." Charlie laughed.
"I'm looking for something to do." Harry announced honestly, glancing around at the hallway lined with moving photos of the Weasley's extended family.
"Two player game." Ginny winced.
"We could switch to Exploding Snap." Charlie offered. Harry started shaking his head, seeing Ginny's disappointed look.
"No, it's alright. I'm just-" Harry stopped himself, glancing at Ginny.
I shouldn't remind her of the healing by talking about the war, Harry noted, remembering the ashen expression she'd held only hours before.
"Let me get you a book." Charlie offered, already standing up.
"I can't study any more today. Health." Harry refused, grimacing.
"Can't read or can't study?" Charlie asked, tilting his head slightly with the question.
"In my world, what's the difference?" Harry chuckled. He hadn't read a fiction book in years, since he'd spent his time hiding from the Dursleys looking at clouds and reading about three-headed dogs.
"You're looking for something to do." Charlie shrugged.
"True." Harry accepted, thinking he'd enjoyed the books back then but guessing they'd probably just seem young to him now that he knew that three-headed dogs existed and that music put them to sleep.
"I'll go grab a few, you take my turn at McJacks." Charlie said, starting toward the stairs.
"I'm terrible at-" Harry started before shaking his head, seeing the man already bounding up the steps.
Harry threw the magical ball to the floor, trying to ignore the interesting magic that made the ball turn into a tiny, intricate sculpture of a parachuting Irishman that then divebombed to the ground while he attempted to pick up the small mooing cattle figures on the hallway floor. The Irishman shattered and reassembled itself, already shouting and shaking its fist at him, before he'd picked up more than six of the little cows.
"Wow, you are terrible." Ginny said, laughing.
"Yeah..." Harry said, mock wincing, glad to see her happier and even more glad to hear Charlie bounding back to them.
"Right, so where am I at?" Charlie asked as he unshrunk three books into his hands.
"Harry just lost for you." Ginny replied.
"Oh excellent." Charlie said, almost cheerfully.
"Sorry." Harry said looking up at him and shrugging slightly.
"No worries, winning against Ginny would have made too weird of a change of pace anyway." Charlie said.
"Oh well, in that case, you're welcome, anytime." Harry replied, smiling gently back at the game and wishing he could get further into the banter and forget about the deaths waiting for him when they went to bed.
"Gracious of you, Harry, really." Charlie said, shaking his head before squatting down beside them.
"Alright, here are the best options I've got from the books I left here. We've got Hamlet by the old muggle William Shakespeare, To Kill a Mockingbird, and White Fang, a book by Jack London about a wolf."
"A wolf?" Harry asked as he took the three.
"The same." Charlie shrugged. "It's actually a very serious and rather beautiful novel. I enjoyed it a lot."
"To Kill a Mockingbird." Harry read aloud from the cover as he shifted the three books in his arms. "What does that mean?"
"Read it, it'll tell you." Charlie smiled.
"I'll start with the wolf." Harry said, nodding at them both and turning to the first page even as he started down the stairs. It felt better to have the soft pages of a book in his hands. He could feel his mind focusing, preparing to read. He made it back outside with his invisibility cloak and sat on the side-porch step, hoping the household would forget about him and go to sleep thinking he was inside.
Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean towards each other, black and ominous, in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any sadness—a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life.
He looked up, staring out at the cold orchard, watching his breath come out in a thin veil. He had a moment to relax and read, Harry thought, smiling lightly to himself and breathing out his first relaxed breath in weeks. Just sit, just let his mind form the image the author was painting, and think of nothing else for a few precious pages.
He left when the last light in the home was noxed out. He walked first across the orchard to get away from the anti-apparation wards and out of earshot before he apparated himself into Hogsmeade.
Mrrowerl was waiting for him, Harry saw with relief as he jogged invisible across the school grounds and saw the thestral already trotting toward him.
He wished intensely in that moment that he was skilled enough to leap onto the animal's back at its pace, rather than having to spread his hands in front of him like a fool and calm the animal so he could mount, clambering onto its back like a small muggle child at a pony ride.
Other skill to learn one day, Harry told himself when he'd finally gotten himself safe behind the animal's wings. Mrrowerl took off on his own, cantering beside the forbidden forest and leaping into the air. Without a word from him the creature turned in the air, flying over the castle toward Hogsmeade.
"You heading toward Marian Castlan's?" Harry asked him, receiving a dry-sounding growl in return.
"Right." Harry replied, having no idea whether the sound was supposed to be meaningful or not.
The wind in his hair felt as great as ever, the feeling capturing wild and free in a way he didn't think anything but flying could mean to him, but somehow it wasn't as happy of a feeling as it had always been before. It was more austere now, more simple, just a pleasant feeling in his hair as he headed toward another terrible deed in the name of a terrible war that he'd shoved himself into.
And somehow this means I'm bettering the world, Harry thought, almost wanting to laugh at the sick irony as he landed at a quiet, linoleum-sided, distinctly-muggle looking house in a distinctly muggle-looking neighborhood.
The wards over the place told a different story, Harry thought, patting a hand down Mrrowerl's mane in thanks for the trip. He didn't want to leave the warm animal's side, but he knew he had a needed experiment to run.
He walked himself up closer to the wards and stood just outside them, settling himself in to stand for as long as he needed to find all of the different wards' common keyhole.
He stepped through successfully and felt his heart sink, knowing better than to wish that he'd failed and yet hating the results of his good magic. It was as Bill said; he could simply walk inside.
He got to the front door and felt like knocking. It was difficult to bring his hand to the doornob and simply open it, though all of the magical locks opened for him like he owned the whole place. He didn't own it, Harry thought as he carefully stepped inside the front foyer, casting silencing spells over the wood floor. The house was a stranger's, he didn't even know where the bedroom was, and he couldn't feel more out of place.
Necessary, Harry reminded himself, tossing his strange feelings away from his duty as he silenced the hinges on the door and pushed it closed. He cast the spell on the carpet on the staircase and slowly began his silent way upstairs, barely breathing despite the magic that would keep him from being heard. He was silenced and invisible, Harry knew, he could run around the entire house screaming if he wished and no one would wake from it, but still he crept up the stairs and kept to the walls, inching his way over the landing and toward the only door on the left, guessing it would be the master bedroom.
Harry pushed the bedroom door open and heard it squeak, wincing and casting silencing spells too late.
Think, then move! Harry chastised himself, watching the sleeping couple and praying they hadn't woken or heard.
I could probably kill them before they spoke, Harry thought, before closing his eyes at the sick thought. He didn't want to have anything to do with that reality.
They're asleep, Harry thought stupidly, staring at where the witch's arm crossed over the man's chest, her Dark Mark contrasting terribly with the man's light skin. Harry only had to glance down at the where the husband's arm sat on top of the heavy blanket to see that he was a Death Eater as well. Harry could even feel the magic of the tattoos, pulsing lightly within the ward magic in the home.
The right house, Harry thought, silently thanking Mrrowerl as he stared at the couple.
Am I just supposed to do this? Harry asked, taking out his wand and wondering how fake the corpses would look, draped over each other so artistically. Another thought he wanted nothing to do with.
Patrificus Internus, Harry cast, barely glancing at the suddenly still couple before he shuffled down against the wall to sit on their floor, staring at the edge of the bed he couldn't see over. Their blanket was light brown and designed with black almost flowery curls, draped over the side of the bed and covering it down to the tan rug on the wooden floor.
It was necessary, Harry told himself, wanting to cry.
It was too much for one day. Too much death and killing and emotion. He didn't want to deal with any of it anymore, didn't want to ever wake up if the next morning meant more of that day. This was what he was supposed to wake up for, a day of research, violence and bloody failed healing and a night of reading muggle fiction, only to stand up and walk into a home to kill couples in their sleep? He sounded more like a subject of nightterrors than any kind of boy or man.
Harry sighed and stood up, pulling himself out of dramatics and spelling his resting spot sanitary, unsure whether the Ministry or the Death Eaters or both would be pursuing him when word of the killings got out, but not wanting to leave any clues for either, nothing but a pink and white plastic little My-Little-Pony.
He returned outside, only to walk straight past the thestral to puke in the bushes away from the home. There was something different about killing in a home, killing men asleep, killing women asleep, that he hadn't prepared himself for, Harry thought as he spat onto the ground.
I'm going to become such a fucking monster by the end of this, Harry guessed, putting a hand on Mrrowerl's back to steady himself as he cast the ground clean.
But I'm going to win, he thought, pulling himself agrressively onto Mrrowerl's back and focusing on Florian Fortescue.
~~HP~~
He didn't look at Mr. Fortescue's face as he killed him, and it was only another death and another cast doll. He didn't have to scream or puke again, he discovered thankfully. The man's Dark Mark and the lack of any trace of Imperius curse was motive enough for the rest. All he had to do was walk out of the colorful house afterwards and thank the thestral, think about the Weasley's and apparate his way home.
Only when he got into bed that night did he remember that he'd never reopened the wound on his leg to heal it correctly and that it was too late then. He could open and heal it again, but it would scar just the same. He lay down to sleep, thinking that by the end of the war, if he ever ended it, he would have little reason to care that his leg was now ugly and scarred.
He had a bad dream that night. He was in a hallway, with moving portraits of agonized, Dark Marked men on both sides, obviously screaming though he couldn't hear a sound. All he could hear was the sound of children crying, and though he ran through the hall to help them, he couldn't find a thing, and every time the hallway turned it onto brought him to another stretch of hallway, and everything turned around itself and the men in the portraits contorted themselves in their screams and the children wouldn't stop sobbing and wanting to be found and he could do nothing but run and try to turn his eyes from the portraits only to see another on the other side, yelling and writhing and all unable to get out.
He woke up panting that he was sorry, that he didn't mean it, though he didn't know what he was supposed to be sorry about. He thought that was glad he'd had one bad dream after the killing. He didn't want to be a man who'd walked through it all untouched. It would feel disrespectful and cruel somehow; somehow would make it worse that he'd killed them, if he didn't kill them and then dream.
When he woke again, Mr. Weasley was calling for breakfast, and the whole house smelled like bread, and his stomach rumbled. Harry wasn't at all sure what to feel or to tell himself, except that nothing mattered as long as the necessary was done, and it was done, so he could eat.
"Harry," Ron and Charlie called as soon as he entered the room. Harry looked between them, his eyebrows raised.
"You go first." Ron grumbled, shrugging at Charlie.
"Lance just owled me about the questions you had for him. He thinks acting disrespectfully will help, but warns you not to lose too much of Rashenon's respect." Charlie said.
Who's Rashenon?
"Who's Rashenon?" Mr. Weasley asked aloud. Charlie just shook his head and met Harry's eyes.
Sphynx, Harry remembered.
Perfect. He needed to learn Legilimency, he needed to know whether or not Snape was loyal. The man was one of Voldemort's most trusted, he either needed to give the Opposition information, or die quickly.
"Excellent. After the funeral." Harry said, nodding and sitting down.
"You'll find him? I still don't understand that whatsoever." Charlie asked, sounding worried.
"I'll find him." Harry said.
"Alright." Charlie agreed, nodding confidently and shrugging before turning back to his food.
"Ron?" Harry asked, accepting a plate of food from Mrs. Weasley.
"Wanna game of Wizard's Chess after the funeral?" Ron asked awkwardly, looking between him and Charlie and already looking disappointed.
Harry winced and shook his head.
"After my meeting." Harry promised.
"Yeah." Ron muttered, shaking his head and turning back to his food.
We go to the funeral, I go to Hogwarts and take Mrrowerl to meet Rashenon, I play chess with Ron and then study until night, and I'll see if I'm given anymore names before I go to bed.
"Wait," Harry realized, before casting a silencing bubble over Charlie and he. "I thought Rashenon was female, the sphinx I met at the maze was female."
Charlie tilted his head to the side.
"Huh. That's strange, no, the sphinx Dumbledore or whoever won the loyalty of was Rashenon, a black-maned white-tail."
"White-tail?" Harry asked.
"It means Alfa, essentially. In gorillas the silver-back is the largest, leader of the pack. It's a mystery why some sphinxes pack and some don't, but the Alfas and the ones who travel alone are called 'white-tails'. I'm sure you can guess why."
"Right." Harry nodded. "So who was the female sphinx I met?"
"No idea, but be careful, Harry. Lance says a sphinx pushing into your mind can be extremely painful or you could have no idea it was happening, just depending on what the sphinx wants. I don't know what the consequences of that would be, and you don't even know this sphinx?"
"I'm doing it." Harry declared. "I can't fight a war having no idea whether or not I'm being betrayed at every turn."
"It's been done." Charlie argued.
"But not by me. By people trained to do it right. I could lose this entire war for everyone with information I already have, and yet I can't win it without getting help." Harry said.
"Let me ask you this, are you being rash?" Charlie asked.
Yes. Damn.
"Yes." Harry admitted, sighing and slowing himself down. "Do you think research would help?"
"Researching what, sphinxes or legilimency. Legilimency would be worthless if you're hoping to learn it directly from a sphinx, but researching sphinxes would be useless. Lance has worked with a few but even he says he does not understand their ways and does not pretend to. No wizard does. He said phinxes have a different manner about them, a different way of speaking, that we don't relate to. Everything is stillness and riddles, he said."
"It could help me from making some huge mistake that offends him." Harry said.
"It could, if there were any research to study, but there's not and anyway, I thought you wanted to be making huge mistakes like that?" Charlie said.
"Well then why are you telling me I'm being rash?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at the man.
Charlie blushed a little and rubbed a hand down his face.
"Good point. Damn, I make no sense. You need to know legilimency, and this is the best way of going about that. Alright, go, but don't get your face torn off, okay?"
"Not planning on it." Harry grinned, before cancelling the silencing charm.
"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley chastised immediately. "Silencing spells at table are very rude."
Oh.
"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley." Harry apologized, nodding his head at her slightly, "I didn't realize."
"It's alright dear. I know we're all shaken up today." Mrs. Weasley sighed, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder.
Oh right, the funeral, Harry remembered, realizing he'd forgotten to be upset about it.
It'd seem fake to think too much about it now, Harry figured, sighing at how jaded that idea made him feel.
He ate the rest of the meal in silence and trotted up to Ron's room to change into his better, black robes for the funeral.
They portkeyed together to a large orchard Harry didn't recognize. The empty stretch of long grass and scattered trees seemingly went on forever, reaching as far as he could see in every direction.
"Where are we?" Harry asked, spinning in a slow circle in the beautiful, open field. He could feel safe here, where no one could hide behind doorways or shopfronts.
"The funeral, dear." Mrs. Weasley replied, squeezing his shoulder from behind him.
"Brighton." George said quietly after Mrs. Weasley had walked out of earshot.
"Thanks." Harry replied equally quietly, following after him toward a group of wizards behind them, gathered around a red and black coffin. In moments the area was covered with arriving wizards, all walking with them in silence, gathering in a large circle around the coffin.
A woman began to sing, though Harry couldn't see her in the crowd.
"Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die."
At this Harry heard a man take over, his voice deep and clear.
"I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die."
Harry found himself wanting to cry as he heard others in the large group start to break down and turned around to stare at the clear, empty field. At the smell of burning he turned and saw the coffin in the center of the group engulfed in surprisingly sweet-smelling flames. He stood with the group in silence as they watched the magic fire consume the hidden body. The flames slowly changed colors, looking like a kind of small sunset as it died to the ground, the smoke clearing to reveal a small tree growing out of the ground where the coffin had been before.
"And done." George whispered, backing up to stand beside Harry.
"This is all? We leave?" Harry asked, stepping back and watching as wizards walked up to pat or stroke the sapling and cry.
"What else would we do?" Fred asked somberly, shaking his head.
"Let's apparate out over there." Bill said, gesturing away from the mourning wizards.
"Alright." Harry agreed, seeing Dumbledore pat a crying witch on the back and start to walk away as well.
"I'll side-along you Harry." George offered.
"Not a problem." Harry refused, shaking his head.
"Of course." George agreed quietly.
They landed back in the Weasley orchard and started toward the home.
"And done." Fred said to George in front of them. Harry watched George nod and mirrored the action.
"And Rashenon." Harry remembered, sighing and shaking himself out of his somber mood. He had to go and act a fool for a while.
"Good luck, Harry." Charlie said, looking worried.
"I'll be alright." Harry promised, holding up his hands.
~~HP~~
Harry found Mrrowerl standing just inside the forest for him, staring straight at him.
"Come here, Mrr." Harry called, holding his hand out.
The creature just growled at him slightly.
Harry rolled his head back on his shoulders in frustration before drawing his wand across his forearm, cutting it deep enough to let blood roll out down to drip between his fingers.
Mrrowerl came trotting out, chirping happily, and clamped his mouth around the wound.
This may not have been wise, Harry thought, feeling the sharp teeth fit around his forearm. To his surprise the pain from the wound started to numb, until it disappeared entirely.
Well at least it'll kill me painlessly, Harry thought, petting his right hand down the animal's sharp neck.
"Alright, Mrrowerl, feel like not killing me?" Harry wondered aloud, pulling his arm back and feeling teeth catch against his skin.
To his relief, Mrrowerl released him, its eye glaring at him horribly.
"I'd like you to find someone for me." Harry requested, casting his arm healed and clean and running his hand over the animal's blood streaked.
The thestral backed up, its teeth already bared, its mouth stained red from the meal. Harry pulled his hands up to the sides at the sight and backed himself up.
"Okay, no." Harry answered and saw the thestral calm back down, its tail thrashing the only sign of its continued temper.
"Why not now?" Harry asked, stretching his hand out to pet at the thestral's hard bone face, gently rubbing over the thin slits that made its nose.
"Just not Rashenon?" Harry asked, but received no answer beside the animal's flicking tail and slight growl-whimper.
The hell does that sound mean? Harry wondered, unsure if he was being foolish trying to speak to the creature, or if it were just as wise or wiser than he. It was damn hard to tell in a creature with a bone face.
Harry heard a growl come from the forest and backed up quickly, knowing it was not the sound of a thestral.
Damn forbidden forest, he thought, hoping his invisibility cloak would shield him as it didn't from the thestrals.
In a moment Harry heard a roar of broken sticks and racing hooves in the forest, loudening as it approached. Harry backed up, recognizing the sound of a stampeding thestral herd, and unsure what was going on.
In seconds the thestrals had burst from the trees and slowed themselves, wings flapping, behind Mrrowerl, all spinning to face back into the forest where the growl had come from.
Harry walked slowly into the thestral pack, wondering if he were being a great fool for walking into a agitated herd of the animals, though he felt safe with them. He wanted to see what was coming at them, and if he could protect them.
The thestral pack started backing up together, their wings flapping in the air and their growls and yipps coming out together. They sounded like a group of hunting wolves, Harry thought, glancing around at the beautiful and deadly creatures.
The growl came back from the forest, and Harry watched as a thick shadow started making its way forward, finally pulling out of the brush to show a dark mane. For a moment Harry thought a man was playing a trick on them, walking out of the forest with some costume over his body, but he quickly realized that the shadow was no such thing. The animal pushed a paw out of the brush onto the sparse grass, and Harry saw that it was both very large, and very real.
Rashenon, Harry wanted to say aloud, seeing the sphinx walk out, its body slowly working its way out of the forest, every step it took forward pushing the thestral herd back until Harry was standing beside Mrrowerl in front of them all.
The sphinx's dark mane was twisted in the front to form two large locks hanging beside his face, but other than that the creature's hair and body was all lion, all large predator. The sphinx had a small black beard that got lost into his mane, and light, almost yellow eyes that didn't fit at all with the rest of his body. Harry watched in fascination as the muscled body slowly folded over itself and sat just outside the forest, the very attractive, very male human face never glancing away from him.
"Thanks mate" Harry said, patting Mrrowerd on its withers.
Okay, so fool now, Harry reminded himself, trying to figure out what he would have done years before. He'd certainly been fool enough back then.
"I have a proposition for you, Mr. Potter." The sphinx said, its attractive human face opening to show the sharp row of teeth of a carnivore.
"A word problem?" Harry asked, trying to sound overly excited.
"No, England has too many of those already." The sphinx replied without looking away from him.
"A riddle." Harry concluded, hoping to sound smug like he always ended up feeling in Dumbledore's office when he finally understood the point the man was leading up to. The sphinx didn't move in answer, simply sat, almost completely still, staring at his face.
Harry let himself divert his eyes as he wished.
"It includes multiple of those, depending on what you chose." The creature replied.
"Great. Bugger-all." Harry said as sarcastically as he could. "Here I've spent all bloody bleeding day tired and err...unhappy and shite and now I gotta think about dumb words and foolish rhymes and hell?" Harry spat on the ground, purposely keeping too much saliva in his mouth and letting it drip onto his chin.
"Okay, so tell me a damn riddle." Harry said, rolling back and forth on his feet and flicking his tongue out to catch the lost saliva before rolling his tongue thickly around his mouth, feeling the whole time like an eleven year old pretending to be tough.
That was disgusting.
"If you look you cannot see it but when you're looking at it you cannot see anything else. What am I describing?" The sphinx asked immediately.
Okay, shit, no idea. Harry thought, knowing he'd been foolish. He should have acted more ridiculously before. More idiotic? Like what, randomly yelling and shouting about? Harry wondered, before pulling his thoughts back to the riddle.
Okay so there's a difference between 'look' and 'look at'. So whatever it is is invisible? Maybe if you're facing toward it you are blinded, though you never see it in itself. Harry considered. Is this a magical thing I don't even know about?
"Is it magic?" Harry asked, only then wondering if he were even aloud to ask questions.
"I do not disrespect you, two-legged." The sphinx answered, looking almost affronted.
Was asking aggressive somehow? Harry asked himself, then seriously wishing he'd at least spoken to Lance before he'd come out.
Or was that some sort of insult, telling me having to answer that would make it stupidly easy.
So maybe whether or not its magic makes its answer clearer? Harry pondered, before realizing that he was getting off track.
"How much time do I have to answer?" Harry asked.
"Why do you ask questions to which only you know the answer?" The sphinx replied.
Right, I have as much time as I have to spend here, and he wouldn't know that. Harry thought, thinking the creature's answer was rudely aggressive.
Charlie said they have a different way about them, Harry reminded himself, before tearing his thoughts back to the riddle.
I have all day then, Harry decided, mentally canceling his chess game with Ron and sitting down in the cool grass, his arms draped over his knees and closing his eyes, feeling his magic center inside him as he concentrated.
The silence was broken every now and then, by the thestrals pawing nervously at the ground and growling out to him, and the sounds of birds as they chirped and flew around the air. It got colder, and Harry warmed the air around himself without barely taking a thought from the puzzle in his mind.
"Eyelids." Harry said aloud, opening his eyes as the thought came to him.
He watched in relief as the sphinx tilted his head and nodded slowly.
"You're a very literal man, Mr. Potter." The sphinx said slowly.
"Am I wrong?" Harry asked.
"No..." The sphinx said carefully. "You are correct, you simply think significantly differently than I do. It is interesting."
"Good, then, I'm glad to hear that. I would like you to teach me legilimency, if you would, sir." Harry said, standing up, glad he could drop his foolish act so quickly. It felt horrifyingly disrespectful that day, to Michael and to the sphinx in front of him.
"I would have you answer a riddle first." The sphinx declared.
"But I just answered one." Harry said, blinking.
"You requested that last." The sphinx replied, his face blank.
"Shite." Harry cursed quietly, rolling his head up to stare at the sky.
"You act a fool to earn a disrespectful riddle, but I'm afraid your trick has turned against you. I now find myself before a man who can drop his public self-respect at will for the sake of a mission, but will reclaim it as soon as possible. The man who pulls dignity around himself like a child with a blanket gets no more regard from me than the man who still carries the child's cloth itself." The sphinx declared.
Excellent. Harry thought sarcastically, nodding and wondering if he should even chance another riddle.
"And you will attack me if I get this next riddle wrong?" Harry asked.
"I can't see why I would but that's as possible as falsehood." The sphinx replied.
"Aka you could just be lying right now about that, and you're definitely going to attack me." Harry translated aloud, shaking his head back and forth.
"I shall do this. You did properly answer one riddle. You will have a riddle to answer. You may either refuse to answer it and I lie to you or not as I will, or you will take the riddle, and if you answer it correctly, everything I say to you will be as truthful as I can make it in my limited knowledge of the world. What is your better choice?"
Harry sat back down, thinking about simply walking away and disregarding the option immediately. Even the sphinx's false information on proper legilimency was better than no information. Still, his other option was to be lied to. He couldn't take the riddle, he wouldn't even know if the sphinx was lying about telling the truth after he answered it.
Hey, that's true. Harry thought after the realization, chuckling to himself.
"See, I have no motive to take the riddle, as I have no reason to think you're not lying to me about telling the truth after I answer it, assuming I could even answer it correctly." Harry replied, shaking his head.
"Well chosen." The sphinx replied, a toothy grin stretching across his face. "What would you like to learn about legilimency?"
"Wait," Harry said as he stood up. "Let me ask, was that just a riddle or an actual offer?"
The sphinx grinned further at his question.
"An offer." It answered determinedly, before settling back down and returning to its stone-like stillness.
And of course it could still be lying.
"Right, I'm an idiot." Harry replied, shaking his head.
"I don't precisely want to learn about legilimency, I want to learn legilimency." Harry said, stepping closer to the large creature.
"No you do not." The sphinx answered.
Err...
"You wish to know legilimency, for whatever motives you have, and I can and do respect that. But you may someday learn how foolish men sound when they say they'd like to learn it. That implies an enjoyment of the process. Something I doubt you even begin know about." The sphinx corrected.
Okay...yes, that's what I meant. God this creature is fucking frustrating.
"What is the process? How does one learn legilimency?" Harry asked.
"To learn how to take secrets from others, one must first give up all of one's own." The sphinx replied. "And therein is the reason why I would teach you, and why one must first gain respect from my pack-kind before we start a wizard on the magic. I do not covet the secrets of a fool, but I believe I covet yours."
"How must I give up all of my own?" Harry asked nervously. ]
"I must go into your mind to teach you how to go into another's, Mr. Potter. Legilimency is the art of reading the magic of another's life. Much as one feels the formation of a spell within the magic of it one finds the formation of a life within the thoughts it has had, and as there is magic in that life, so there is in those thoughts. Legilimency is the purest form of the magical detection spells you would have learned in wizarding schooling." The sphinx taught.
Is he teaching me truth or not?, Harry wondered, guessing the sphinx was smart enough to have made the whole monologue up if he'd wished to.
"If you wish me to teach you, then I will enter your mind and show you the images the magic in thoughts bring. It is up to you to train yourself in magical detection, as only with that will you progress to ever feel a thought without me."
"I already know some magical detection." Harry replied cautiously.
"That is irrelevant." The sphinx replied, looking rather confused for a moment.
"Alright." Harry answered, though he wasn't sure how much more there was to learn in magical detection, or how to go about researching it. He'd run out of books that didn't just tell him what he'd already learned on his own.
"Are you willing to learn legilimency?" The sphinx asked then.
"Yes." Harry replied, keeping his voice strong even as he felt a flicker of fear start in his stomach.
How much is this going to hurt?
~~HP~~