A week to relax
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Hogwarts – Headmaster's Office – 30th of December
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Why did women have to always be so difficult?
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump of the ICW and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, most powerful wizard of his time and Alchemist nearly without peer (and in a few years, after the death of Nicolas Flamel, completely without peer) – was in a bad mood.
Why did women have to make every situation so difficult?
It had been more difficult than needed just from the beginning. James Potter had been willing to help. He had never been that brilliant as a strategist, never been able to grasp the whole picture of fate, but he had recognized how important it was to help the Order and Dumbledore, its leader. Because of this, he had allowed him to use Potter Manor as the Order's HQ, giving him access to his wealth and was willing to trust every decision Dumbledore had made.
But Lily Potter, née Evans, had complicated the matter from the start. She convinced her husband to integrate some security measures, and shielded her own wealth completely from him. For the last decade he had only been able to trickle away a part of the Potter wealth to support the Order's crusade. With most members being poor it had been especially cumbersome to finance the war, and to prepare for the next. Spies had to be paid, safe houses to be supported, families like the Weasley to be aided.
With Accountant Griphook's help he had barely been able to gather the money for all of this. Griphook had been the perfect Goblin for him in that position: Struggling to get his father's rank back, desperate to find new customers to raise his own status – it had been easy to convince him. After their small and secret agreement, Dumbledore had sent a number of Muggleborn families his way, new Gringott's customers, new to the magical world and happy to follow the advice of the Headmaster. Mostly small clients, unimportant clients, but the sheer number had helped Griphook and he had been happy to return the favour, showing the Headmaster the legal loopholes to get as much money as possible without stirring trouble, without causing suspicion.
Why did women have to turn every comfortable agreement into a nightmare?
Enter the dragon – in this case: Enter the Pinegrew ladies. Roxanne and Agatha Pinegrew not only destroyed a large number of his plans for Harry, and were quite successful in denying him any influence on the boy with the adoption. No, they even dared to examine the Potter wealth and to close off any access he formerly had. According to Mundungus, they re-transferred a large amount of money that had belonged to the Potter wealth and started to examine some of the sales of goods from Potter Manor. Some of them had been fake deals, sales of goods he in reality had wanted for his own collection.
And the whole time the Damocles sword of Griphook's testimony was dangling above his head, his testimony about the Headmaster's part in all these business deals. Merlin, he was the leader of the light. It was disgusting that these actions had forced him to use mind altering spells on the cowardly Goblin. But he had to secure his position. He couldn't allow some wild accusations to besmirch his reputation.
Roxanne Pinegrew was to blame. She had forced his hand in this matter.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore groaned:
Why did women always have to be so difficult?
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Pinegrew Manor - 30th of December
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Only a few days were left until they had to return to Hogwarts. Harry stared in his cup of coffee. He was in no hurry to leave Pinegrew Manor; he really liked the house, the people and the atmosphere. All three women had been fabulous teachers, each of them strong in their own specialty, but with a broad knowledge of other things too.
Anne had used the days to test and train their Occlumency skills and now spend a few hours each day terrorizing Daphne with Legilimency. Was he a bad boyfriend because he liked to notice her struggle with something? Because he had been relieved to see her having troubles to learn something new with everything else coming so easy to her? It had been interesting to watch them, especially when Anne trained both of them – Harry and Daphne – in the use of the Rapport spell.
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"It's a family spell so in a way it's a secret you are not allowed to share. You may use it in cooperation with trustworthy persons like Hermione and Neville, Sirius or Remus. But please be careful who is able to watch you doing this. To start the training I have to imprint a layout into your nerves. It will enable your brain to handle a special kind of sensory input. I'll show you how to do this later in your training. It is nothing especially dangerous or difficult – if done right. I simply activate a number of neural pathways that your brain neglected so far. From then on you'll be able to connect mentally, to share information in words and pictures.
"This technique is related to Legilimency, but Daphne has to concentrate on something to show it to Harry and vice versa. It is not used to really read the mind. It is especially useful if you want to have a silent conversation and to enhance the speed of the exchange. In the beginning you'll need skin contact and the exchange will only be about twice to thrice as fast as the spoken word. But later you'll learn to have these conversations at a distance and much faster. You'll even learn to integrate a small number of other persons as passive participants." With a small smile she added: "Let's begin."
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Anne had praised his talent for this special spell, expressed her guess that he would be talented at Legilimency too – in contrary to Occlumency where he always was struggling to improve his shields, to avoid breaking them down involuntarily in a fit of emotions. Harry had breathed his wish to learn Legilimency, but Anne had denied it: "You have far too much on your plate for the next months. Leave this to Daphne for now. I assure you that I'll teach you as soon as possible: Legilimency and much more… after your fifteenth birthday."
She hadn't explained that last statement and Daphne stayed silent about it too. So he only could sigh and wait.
As promised they had learned quite fast to have these silent conversations and while Harry liked their evening hours, holding hands with Daphne and exchanging all kind of wild ideas and dreams, they hoped to be able to extend the distance in the near future. And how nice would it be to have a 'discussion group' with Hermione and Neville too?
While Hermione and Daphne liked the lessons with Agatha and Roxanne very much, to learn new transfiguration and charm spells, he loved the hours with Sirius and Remus the most. Two extremely experienced trainers, four pupils, endless hours of sweat and pain while they duelled each other. They all made large steps in those training sessions and although they kept their strengths and weaknesses in a way, Sirius and Remus were able to help them enhance their fortes and dilute their foibles.
Harry was the fastest and most powerful of the group by far; and slowly he gained in accuracy too. Hermione – surprise, surprise – knew the broadest repertoire of spells. That she had started to only whisper the incantations only aggravated the situation. He never knew what she would hurl at him. And Daphne – she was nearly as aching as her mother. Deadly accurate with her spells, she forced Harry to use the Protego far more often than every other training adversary, anticipating his every move. He shuddered shortly as he thought about meeting her on the Quidditch field, armed with a bludger and beater club. Harry still won two out of three fights against her, but his losses were always painful.
At the very beginning of their training Daphne had shown how intensively she had watched the Champions at the first task. Not only had she used the weeks since then to learn the Conjunctivitis – the spell Viktor Krum had successfully used on his dragon – but she had already changed it a bit, allowing her to cast a weaker but faster version, using a smaller amount of energy. And she really liked to change other spells too, often using a slightly altered wand motion to hide her intent. He hoped they would find a room at Hogwarts to continue their training. Especially as Neville had finally started to show some progress – thanks to Daphne's eagerness to pull his leg.
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They had just watched Sirius and Remus double teaming against Agatha and Roxanne. His godfather and his former DADA teacher got their asses properly kicked by the ladies, much to everyone's amusement. Naturally they had explained their defeat with prattle about gentlemanlike behaviour and 'letting the ladies win'. But Harry had seen the reason, the real reason. The ladies weren't faster or stronger than the guys, but they worked awesome as a team. Without a word they knew what their team member had in mind and without hesitation used every opening. A quick look, a short nod and he and Daphne promised each other silently to follow this example.
"I'm not fragile," Daphne moaned. Harry smiled, still concentrated on Hermione who was duelling him under Sirius supervision while Remus tried his best to push Neville into a more aggressive stance. He was still too reluctant, too careful in his casting. With his new wand he was already far better than before and Harry was eager to see the change after the ritual. But Neville didn't want to hurt anyone. Every time he hesitated a moment before sending a stinging hex at Daphne, his spells always accompanied by his expression of regret.
Shortly glancing in Daphne's direction Harry saw something troubling, a wicked grin, a hint of danger and mischief in her eyes. Nearly too late, he sidestepped Hermione's next attack. Looking up a bit angrily at himself Harry watched flabbergasted how a stinging hex hit Hermione in the back.
"Sorry, missed target."
Wide-eyed Harry watched them, pondering why Daphne…
"Sorry, missed target." Another hex hit Hermione.
"Stop it," Neville growled, for the first time showing an angry emotion.
"Make me," Daphne smiled, sending another spell at Hermione who was at least sidestepping it, but did not even raise her own wand.
Dodging Neville's half-hearted try to disarm her, Daphne sent two new spells at Hermione, low powered but nonetheless painful and deadly accurate.
"STOP IT."
"I don't feel like it." Daphne showed her sweetest smile and Harry only wished he could embrace her and snog her silly for this stupid act.
"STOP… IT… THIS…"
Every word accompanied by a step forward and another spell, each cast stronger, his third spell hit Daphne and pushed her against the wall. She slid down to the ground, Neville watching her, shocked by his own reaction.
"So… sorry."
"Yeah, I'm sorry too, that you needed so long to cast properly." Daphne grinned and touched her face carefully. "Ouch! Hermione? Could you…" She pointed towards her broken nose.
Paling Neville stared at her, then at Harry, confused that both where only grinning.
"Episkey." A fast stinging hex followed the healing spell. "Sorry, missed target."
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Neville was still not as aggressive as Daphne – none of them was in reality – but he had improved and with a few more training sessions he wouldn't be the laughing stock many Slytherins thought him to be anymore. Even his housemates would be surprised to notice the difference, Harry anticipated.
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"You haven't told your parents about the poisoning?" Daphne asked in a whisper.
"No," Hermione shook her head determinedly. "They know nothing about it, or about the dangers of the last years. They wouldn't understand. Dad would instantly pull me out of Hogwarts."
Daphne nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps it would be better." Noticing Hermione's glare she explained, soothing her friend with her next words again: "Homeschooling. With Sirius, Remus, Mum and Grandma it would be possible for us to stay away from Hogwarts. The education wouldn't be worse, but far safer."
Hermione watched her with a frown: "Do you assume this to be likely?"
"No," Daphne responded with another sigh. With a weak smile she continued: "Harry is too strong-headed for that. But… this year is terrible." The black-haired beauty suddenly looked very tired and distressed. Hermione hadn't seen her like this before. Daphne was always so composed, so steady and reassuring. "The poisoning, the attack on me and the struggles with the Weasleys – it's all grating on my nerves. It hurts him that so many believe him to be a cheater, even among his supposed friends. Ron's betrayal hit him especially hard. He tries not to show it, but he's hurting. I don't want to see him like this anymore... in pain."
Hermione nodded slowly. She had noticed that too, realized how much Harry tried to hide – again. That Daphne had seen this too was only proof of how close Harry and she had become in the last months. "And" Daphne's voice was only a weak whisper now "someone is out to kill him within this tournament, I'm sure of that – and we can't help him, Hermione, we won't be there at the tasks. What if…"
Her eyes filled with tears she looked at her bushy-haired friend, pleading silently for support. "We'll help him as much as possible, Daphne. We'll train with him, prepare him and find solutions. We'll solve that damned egg puzzle and kick his lazy ass into the library to prepare properly. We'll be there, Daphne, we'll be there." A snake caring for a lion; a lioness hugging a snake – how much had everything changed.
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Sitting at the dinner table they had spoken about the future. The return to Hogwarts wasn't far away, which means that Remus and Sirius would soon be on their way. After some grumbling, Sirius had caved in and would follow Harry's invitation to live at Potter Manor together with Remus. While Remus – still working on the library and waiting for Bill Weasley's return – would stay at the main house, Harry had offered Sirius the guest house in the adjacent garden. Remus would protect the house with a Fidelius Charm and be the secret keeper for him. Harry thought this to be the best solution, not wanting to have Sirius stay in the wilderness again, or living like a prisoner at Black Manor.
Black Manor – that had been an equally difficult issue.
"I don't want it anymore," Sirius uttered. "I've too many bad memories about that place. Even with Remus' alterations it is still an evil, moody house, only bringing bad dreams to me."
Harry could only try to imagine how Sirius' childhood must have been that he was so eager to get rid of his family's home. But with Walburga shrieking-voice Black as his mother what else could be expected? For a moment he smiled. Harry had never been there, but Remus had told him about the house, about Walburga and especially about the picture. They wanted to get rid of it, something that apparently was difficult because of a permanent sticking charm, a charm cast by the house elf Kreacher.
Remus and Sirius had asked him. They had been happy with his solution: If you can't remove the picture, then remove the wall. Sirius had been delighted with the idea to remove a six by six feet part of the wall, and even planed on doing personally with a pickax. It would be a kind of personal relief, a reprocessing of the past.
Naturally Daphne had found a more Slytherin solution:
"Tell Kreacher that you intend to destroy the picture. Tell him that he has a last chance to rescue it by removing it from the wall. Tell him that he may keep the picture in his own room."
The solution was ideal to rescue the picture – as Daphne didn't like the idea of destroying a piece of art – and working on behalf of Kreacher who still adored his former mistress. No wonder that Hermione supported the idea.
Sirius was still thinking, undecided.
"You could lend it to the Order," Remus suggested. "The Order, not Dumbledore," he explained as he noticed the glares of everyone.
Sighs and nods greeted this. "The Order is still important," Agatha agreed. "An important ally it is at least, even if I don't trust every member. Now even less after what we learned about Mundungus' part in all of this. And Alastor Moody has always been too eager for permanent solutions. But there are others."
"But wouldn't it be the same… the Order and the Headmaster," Hermione asked.
"No," Harry answered calmly. "Not if Sirius gives the house to Professor McGonagall."
Daphne agreed: "She changed. She's standing up now against his wishes. She'll use the house with consideration."
"Would you ask her," Sirius begged Agatha. "Ask her in my name… explain about Dumbledore, why I don't wish…"
"I'll speak with her."
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Pinegrew Manor – 31st of December
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Harry watched silently the exchange between Daphne and Anne. It was something about making her charms more enduring, stronger imbedded into the fabric of the enchanted object. He knew that somehow Daphne was already able to cast her charms in a very special way, making them hard to dispel and difficult to detect. Finely wrought magical lines encircled those objects, anchoring the spell and smudging the line between object and magic. Even Hermione had been impressed.
Anne was in her element again. She explained some finer points of this type of magic to Daphne, things that were far beyond where Harry's ability and willingness to follow their conversation was within magical theory. It had been far more interesting to hear about Anne's education an hour ago. In her family it was still practice to get a very classical education, like it was centuries ago. Not only were Latin and Ancient Greek quite normal to learn for them, but lessons in Medicine, Religion, Philosophy and Law also belonged to her curriculum. Humanistic education they called it. And that had only been the beginning. How would it be to be raised like this? Loved, cared for and trained to be great?
"Harry?"
Harry snapped out of his day-dreaming. Anne and Daphne were watching him, Daphne with a small smile, Anne with a frown. How often had she addressed him before he reacted?
"It's time for something new," Anne started. "As promised, I wanted to train you in something regarding your emotions – the other side of the coin so to say. You certainly know that spells often depend on your state of mind. Many younger wizards unwittingly enhance their spells with anger. Daphne demonstrated this quite well with Neville. But you may use this kind of power with intention too and it doesn't have to be anger. Quite to the contrary it's better to use another emotion, something more positive and controllable."
Harry groaned. "Please don't start with the power of love now."
Daphne looked a bit disappointed and Harry hastily added: "I know it's powerful but I really have heard enough about it. My mother…"
Anne raised her hand to stop him. "I don't mean that. What your mother did – as far as we know – is something completely different and very unique. And love is far too complex to channel it properly. Emotional channelling uses the power of simple but strong feeling. Anger – the emotion to destroy. Care – the emotion to protect. Two sides of the same power. You will learn how to use it to empower your spells. It is a very draining ability, which you shouldn't use lightly. It is something neither Daphne, nor Hermione will learn – Daphne because of her sensibility, Hermione because of her self-control. But I'll teach you and later – when his magic has steadied again – Neville will learn too. Daphne's magic is like the finest branching; your magic is more like a crushing wave – a wave we'll stride to make more powerful now.
You know that emotions are important: You need the wish to hurt for a Cruciatus, a feeling of hope and joy for a Patronus, and a sense of amusement to banish a Boggart with a Ridiculus. It's a bit of a contradiction: You have to release emotion in a controlled, directed way. Prerequisite is the intimate knowledge of the used spell and the ability to concentrate on the emotion. The knowledge is important because you don't concentrate on the spell, the wand waving and the incantation – that has to be second nature – but you focus on your target and your wish.
"First: A bit of practice."
The next hour they spend on casting Protego spells, first to shield himself, then to protect Daphne from Anne's hexes. She was a stern teacher with eagle's eyes, noticing the smallest flaws in incantation and gesture. But he improved: Never before had he been able to cast the spell so fast, accurate and effortless. Harry felt better now, safe in the knowledge that he could protect her. This lasted until Anne started to throw more powerful spells. Fast they reached the limits of his spells. Each hex destroyed another one of his Protegos and slowly Harry feared for Daphne's welfare.
What if they shattered without fully stopping the attack? Anne wasn't really holding back now, trusting his abilities. This was a new experience too: An adult willing to trust his abilities as a wizard. She didn't treat him with gloves, not like a child, but more like a warrior. He liked this very much.
"Good," Anne stopped her attacks. It was awesome to watch her throwing this endless number of powerful spells towards Daphne, not a single bead of sweat on her brow. He shuddered, pondering about how he – or even Sirius or Remus – would fare in a duel against her. Not for the first time he wondered about her real occupation. Cultural Attaché – wasn't that a synonym for all kind of secret services in the Muggle Literature? Why had she been at the Delacour Ball? Socializing? He didn't really assume so.
"And now to the second part: The emotion. Think about the result, should my spells hit Daphne."
A wordless stinging hex left her wand and even his seeker reflexes weren't fast enough to protect Daphne. A shriek of pain, a glowering stare – Daphne wasn't amused, the spell completely able to prove the result of failure.
"Concentrate on your wish to protect her. Try to imagine your arms, your body shielding her from any harm. Your body spends warmth against the coldness of the world. Imagine!"
A new hex left Anne's wand, flew towards Daphne. Harry didn't really see it; his hands didn't wait for the command but moved nonetheless, the words left his mouth. In his mind he only saw her, his body intercepting the attack. There was warmth in him, but it was comfortable warmth, not the boiling heat of rage. Easily his shield deflected the spell like the following ones. Feeling his spells he somehow knew when his shield was starting to fail, allowing him to recast it in time. From casting to casting his shields grow stronger. From barely visible they changed to a blazing gold, resembling the very real metallic shield of a Spartan soldier.
The reverberating noises of powerful spells smashing against an obstacle brought him back to the present. Anne stopped her attacks as Harry's shield faded away. Beads of sweat were now clearly visible on her face, but she grinned broadly. Daphne looked very pale, knowing full well what would have happened if Harry had failed. But after a second she flew into his arms, allowing the former imagination to get real.
"Good," Anne praised. "You've done really well, Harry."
Without another word she slipped away, leaving Harry and Daphne behind, alone with their thoughts.
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Delacour Manor – 31st of December
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When had his sister last been like this, Charlie pondered.
While Fleur was helping her mother with the last preparations for the New Year's Ball, he had agreed to occupy her little sister. Gabrielle Delacour was a cute, intelligent and extremely sharp girl of ten years. Outwardly a younger copy of her older sister, she was much more vivid, less controlled in her emotions and behaviour.
When Charlie mentioned how close Harry Potter was to his family, she had been excited. Gabrielle was willing and fully able to listen endless hours to the stories about the adventures of the Golden Trio.
For a moment a deep sadness gripped his heart. There wouldn't be any new stories about the Golden Trio. There wasn't a Golden Trio anymore, the friendship broken between Ron, Harry and Hermione. A friendship that perhaps never existed in the assumed way: Ron had hinted at the fact that Molly had pushed him into this friendship, wanted him to be Harry's best mate like she always saw Ginny as Harry's girlfriend.
Charlie had left the house of his parents, practically escaped to Fleur, because he didn't want to speak about Molly's plans anymore. He only hoped that Ginny, his favourite sister, his little darling, would be able to cope with her mother.
Charlie had to force a smile as he looked at Gabrielle. She would be there at Hogwarts in a few weeks, watching her sister at the second task. How would Ginny fare until then? He could only hope for the best.
