Mastermind Hunting

by Louis IX

This is a story of the life of Harry Potter. From his disappearance with his friendly relatives to Dumbledore chasing after him around the world, while Voldemort and muggle secret services loom in the background. Technology, Prophecies... one word: power.

36. Springy Confrontations

MASTERMIND HUNTING, by Louis IX
Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

Chapter 36 – Springy Confrontations
posted June 3rd, 2006

Lord Voldemort exited the Ministry of Magic in a hurry, before heading to a secluded alleyway. His goals had been to Apparate to his temple and spend his nerves on the Death Eaters there, but the small alley was full of garbage and he decided that it was better to destroy these than his too few followers.

After a satisfying session of trashcan bashing, he remembered that he had wanted to visit a particular old man and Apparated to Diagon Alley.

It was quite strange, when you thought about it. Here was Lord Voldemort, the fearsome Dark Lord and probably the strongest in centuries, and nobody cared about him. An old hag who walked into him left without even the slightest glance.

Voldemort refrained from cursing the offending woman and headed to his destination: Ollivander's wand shop.

Needless to say, the wand maker was quite surprised.

"Mr… Riddle?" he asked guardedly. "What can I do for you?"

"You remember me?"

"I remember all my customers, Mr Riddle. Yours was yew and phoenix feather, I assume."

Voldemort grinned. "I'm here to discuss about that. It has been destroyed, you see." He paused as the old man gasped. "And one of my followers- I mean… someone told me that it could be because it duelled a brother wand."

Ollivander hummed noncommittally, his fingers absently toying with the measuring tape.

"Can you tell me more about that?" Voldemort asked. "And can you tell me who you sold my wand's brother to?"

"Well… I could… but-"

"Let me rephrase this, old man." Voldemort stepped forward, and his aura of evilness flared. "I want these answers. And, if you don't cooperate, I can make sure that you'll be out of business soon."

Ollivander gulped. In all the wizarding wars, few wizards had dared turning on the wand-making industry. However, the old man also knew that, should Voldemort decide to put him out of business, that would be a low blow to the wizarding world. Especially as the dark wizards would then be the only ones to detain his impressive stock of wands.

Taking his decision, he spoke. "Brother wands are wands sharing cores of the same creature. In your case, it had been a phoenix's tail feather. It is not that rare to have two wands linked in that way, but, usually, the time elapsed between the moments the brother wands are picked usually amounts in centuries. Research has shown that brother wands couldn't fight each other directly. It was destroyed, you said?" the old man asked, his scholar upbringing coming to the fore.

Voldemort pushed the question to the side with a sweep of his hand. "The name." he growled.

Ollivander blinked, and remembered who was in front of him. "I sold that wand to a boy entering Hogwarts. Kentaro Anderson is the name. It was holly and… well, you know already: phoenix tail feather." A pause. "It is strange, though."

"What do you mean?"

"I distinctly remember reading about an attack on Hogsmeade, a year ago." Ollivander said, not looking at Voldemort. "And the casualties listed that name. When did you say your wand broke?"

The Dark Lord stayed silent, considering the information he had just received. Then with an unrevealing grunt, he escaped the little shop, leaving a bewildered old man behind him. A bewildered and slightly anxious old man. Five minutes later, Ollivander closed his shop and went to his fireplace.

He had some backup plans to implement.

---

Hogwarts…

During the weeks leading to the final exams, Harry's abilities would expand some more, and, likewise, several additions would be brought into his possessions or his friends'.

One of the first things he did was to explore the memories he had received from Ryan, the last time he and his double had shared their memories. Ryan had spent a long time in Japan, training with Goken his ability with the strangest weapons from his paraphernalia. Harry discovered that, as he had surmised a long time ago, the sickle-chain-cannonball weapon could be used to disrupt magical shields, and he used the sessions of the Bushido club to train this with his friends. Needless to say, Fred and George were impressed and they started to train with the unusual weapon a bit more. This often ended in a tangle of chain, of course, but they were progressing quickly. In the same way, Susan benefited from the additional moves Harry learnt about the side-handle batons.

It was also during the same time that Harry thought about an idea that had been in his head for some time. Using a voluntarily incomplete Animagus transformation and a bit of Metamorphmagus powers, he succeeded in sprouting a pair of wings. However, despite already having the nerves and muscles for four arms, the wing-related muscles needed additional training before he could use them at all. Training in the nights, he would only need a few days to be able to glide. Two weeks later, he would be ready to fly for a short time. Come the end of the school year, he would be able to fly for hours at a time, do acrobatics, or hold someone or something while airborne. It was all a question of wingspan – and relative muscle mass.

Harry wasn't spending all his free time on flying, though. At some times during the first weeks of May, he started to search for serious books about Time in the bookstores in Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, and even Knockturn Alley. There were many books about the subject, but none of them was serious enough to be considered working material. Noticing this, Harry deducted that either the Ministry or the Unspeakables must have had a hand in censoring the information. After all, messing with time was dangerous. Finally, it was Dumbledore who gave him a book from his private library. Even then, the majority of the book content wasn't useful either: half of it retold failed experiments, and the other half was a whipped-up theory about Time, its flow, and the travels to the past and the future. Harry could only relate to a few points here and there, but it was better than nothing.

During his travels to Diagon Alley, Harry had also noticed a jeweller selling magical watches. Learning that these watches could include hands showing the state of people – like Mrs Weasley's clock –, he had decided to indulge in a shopping spree and bought a watch for each of his friends. That way, they could all know if either of them was in difficulty. For his own watch, though, he asked the jeweller to attach three clock faces to his wristband. One was for England and his wizarding friends, while the two others were for Switzerland and Japan, displaying local time and the state of his friends and family there.

In the same way his abilities were expanding, his circle of friends was also widening at the same time.

His earliest friends, who had almost the same skills he did, were Tracey, Susan, Hermione, Luna, Ron, Ginny, and the twins. Then, there were people "in the know" about his identity, the secret protected by strong mental defences or a hidden vault. Remus and Sirius, along with Dumbledore, McGonagall, Mei Wu, Moody, and Amelia Bones belonged to that group.

In Hogwarts, a wider group of people was now using Harry's help to learn to defend themselves – more than with the Defence lessons only, that is, even if Harry made it so these were advantageous to everyone. Some of them were Neville, Seamus, and the three Gryffindor Chasers. The five Gryffindors now knew about Harry's identity and were training hard to reach the level of the others. Another part of that group was made of people training hard as well, but they didn't know about Harry's identity as of yet. They knew he had several interesting powers, though, among which the ability to share skills by mentally copying them. That part was composed of Bill Weasley, Cedric Diggory, William Garnet, Adrian Pucey, Wendy Fawcett, Brutus Armstrong, Penelope Clearwater, and, surprisingly, Draco Malfoy. Apparently, the Malfoy heir believed his well-being at risk, and he was pushing himself hard on the battle training.

Needless to say, several aspirin bottles had to be consumed over the course of the month.

Then, in the last days of May, the fighting clubs stopped completely. Several students hadn't noticed the announcement and showed themselves at the usual times, but Harry gently told them that, given that it was the last week before the end-of-year exams, time would surely be spent in better activity than clubs. Some disagreed, but Harry knew it was only a fanfaronade, and he dismissed them as well.

He didn't recall his challenge, though, and a particular group of people though that it would be fun to take advantage of the exam frenzy-related adrenaline to do something about it.

---

Once again, the exams were a tense affair, and several students felt the need to have Cheering charms cast on them. Incidentally, these charms were the topic of the third year exam for Charms.

For the students he had to grade in Defence – which meant all those not passing their OWLs or NEWTs –, Harry had decided to rely heavily on practise and had a mock duel with each and every student. When Tracey went against him, he couldn't miss the smirk on her face, but he dismissed it as her reaction to the irony of the situation. As she was his friend – his girlfriend, even – he didn't go in her head to find the reason either.

It was only during the dinner of the very last exam day for everyone that he found out. Right after dessert, a group of four students – incidentally, there was one student from each House – stood up and went to the Headmaster. When the five of them looked at him, all of them smiling, he had a faint idea. It was quickly crystallized.

"Henry?" the Headmaster asked. "Are you ready for these four to answer your challenge?"

Harry frowned at Tracey, but he could only see excitement at the prospective mock battle. Seamus was there, biting his lips in apprehension. Harry would later learn that Ron, Neville, and Seamus had fought against each other in the Room of Requirements to determine who would go against him. Seamus won against each of them separately, and together. The chosen Ravenclaw student was Luna, and the Hufflepuff was Susan.

He gulped. What were those thinking? "When and where?"

"Here and now." Tracey replied.

"The scenery?"

"Arena."

"The rules of defeat?"

"First team unconscious… or yielding."

"The choice of weapons?" he asked again.

The four looked at each other, before smiling at him. "Yours."

'Overconfident, are we now?' he mentally sent his girlfriend, who snorted through the same link. After a few seconds of reflection, he nodded. "Very well. Everything goes."

'Everything?' Tracey asked mentally, her tone conveying a smirk as well.

Harry sent the image of himself rolling his eyes. 'Only those powers we are comfortable with the audience to know. Obviously, Apparating in Hogwarts is out. Mental techniques aren't allowed either.' he finished, before closing the link.

Dumbledore had watched the discussion, and, as the terms had been set, he stood up. "Students!" he called. "Once again, our Defence Professor has been challenged. If you want to stay to witness his battle against the four contestants here, please stay near the walls as we will reconfigure the room. Thank you."

Five minutes later, all the students in the room were standing against the walls. Over the course of the school year, the mock battles with the Defence teacher had attracted many students and staff members alike. Thinking that the four contenders were young and inexperienced, the onlookers had prepared themselves for another exhibition match.

Once the room was cleared, Dumbledore and McGonagall Transfigured the tables and chairs into stepped rows of seats, while Harry and Flitwick created an arena of sorts. It consisted of a square centre, of an area of a hundred square yards, and four small discs linked to it by 10-foot long bridges.

Once the scene was ready, the four students stepped on the small discs and Harry went in the middle of the square. Susan was opposite to Luna, and Tracey was likewise with Seamus. At the same time, Dumbledore brought up a magical shield around the arena.

Harry looked at the shield, before eyeing Dumbledore critically. "Can you add a physical shield there as well?"

"Why so?"

"I told them "everything goes" and I'm sure things will fly."

The old Headmaster acquiesced and created the second shield. One after the other, Harry looked at his four friends intently, before couching and concentrating on strengthening his skin.

Dumbledore began the countdown.

"Three…"

Harry's robe was in fact the magical mantle he had been given by his Venetian friends, and Harry mentally ordered it to change into a garment in which he could actually fight. At the same time, Tracey, Luna, and Susan put their hands in the air, and several onlookers gasped and started to complain, thinking that they were cheating.

"Two…"

The three contestants had just summoned their weapons of choice, though. Harry cast a quick glance around, and noticed that Seamus wasn't fazed by that. This indicated that they rehearsed the fight somehow. Narrowing his eyes, he mentally called his katana as well.

"One…"

His own katana having appeared in his hand, he readied himself. He had already noticed that Susan had summoned her tonfas and Luna her shields. Tracey had her two wakizashis, too, indicating that she was going for a close fight. The unknown quantity and only sharpshooter was Seamus, then, and Harry faced him, oblivious to the fact that Susan had pocketed her tonfas and was retrieving her other weapon of choice.

"Begin!"

Susan's secondary weapon was the short bow, and she had pulled the drawstring as quickly as possible, creating three arrows. As soon as the Headmaster spoke the word, she released them. At the same time, Luna had started to run… towards Seamus. And she was incanting at the same time.

The boy had started a couple of spells already, and Harry was casting the counterspell when he was struck from behind. His concentration disturbed, his spell failed, and he was quickly bound by strong ropes. Looking down, he noticed that a wakizashi was resting on the floor and he groaned. Despite not having distance weapons in her personal weaponry, Tracey knew how to use her short blades, and wasn't afraid of throwing them. Especially as she could recover them anytime. Harry was thankful to have reinforced his skin, though, because that wicked blade could have been really harmful otherwise.

He was still hurting from somewhere, and remembered the two arrows that had flown on each side of him. Once again, he groaned. How could he forget Susan's ability with the bow? He knew his skin wasn't reinforced enough to repel piercing attacks yet, and the arrow sticking from his rear was a proof of that.

Harry was bound, but that didn't prevent him from twisting his body, and he quickly brought his katana on the rope that was tying his feet together. Then, running and jumping around to evade the spells from Luna and Seamus – something that was strangely very difficult to do, as the boy had an incredible aim – as well as Susan's arrows, he morphed his upper body to relax the ropes. Once he had enough leeway, he cut those too.

Evading three sharpshooters and morphing himself had required all his attention, and he hadn't noticed Tracey Disillusioning herself. Just as he was aiming his katana at Susan, a curse on his lips, two blurred blades struck his own and disarmed him. At the same time, ropes flew forward again and he found himself tightly bound. He tried to squirm out of the way again, but Tracey was on him this time, and, having foregone the use of mind arts, he couldn't take control of her. A couple of spells later, he was really unable to move and could only yield.

After he had been delivered from the ropes, he stood up slowly, wincing when the arrow in his rear made itself known again. These were temporary arrows, though, and it disappeared just as Susan was apologizing profusely.

"I'm sorry." she was saying. "I'm really sorry. I thought you weren't going to get hurt that badly. Do you want me to-"

"Susan!" Harry interrupted. Now that he was open to the mind waves again, he had caught the girl's intent and it was only through Metamorphmagus control that he didn't blush. 'Don't finish that sentence.' he sent her.

She stopped and looked at him in wonder, before going beet red. The body of onlookers was completely silent, shocked by the indomitable teacher's defeat and it would have been very bad form to finish her sentence with "kiss it to make it better."

Dumbledore stood and cleared his throat. "Well, Professor, it seems that you have been bested."

"Seems so." Harry answered nonchalantly.

"They cheated!" a voice sounded from the crowd.

Before Dumbledore could answer, though, Harry had raised his hand. "They did not. All they did was preparing themselves for the fight. It is the same as drawing one's wand."

A pause.

"Do you want a rematch?" Dumbledore asked Harry.

The boy-turner-teacher thought about it and turned to the four students. "What do you think?" he asked them.

"I say it's a pity you didn't try harder." Luna said. "I haven't had time to play my part."

"I will go easier on you." Susan added.

"Of course not!" Harry replied indignantly. "You did well, and I want you to continue."

'Promise?' she asked mentally, and he replied in kind.

"I say aye." Seamus said, although Harry felt waves of increased self-confidence coming from the foursome's earlier success.

"Go for it." Tracey said, before mentally amending herself. 'Even if we are going to lose, now that you are awake, I don't really care. I got you.'

'You got me? That was your idea all along?' Harry asked huffily. 'And what do you mean by awake?'

Tracey sent the image of a wink and turned to the Headmaster.

"Since they all agree, I'm going for an encore." Harry said, and everyone took their starting place again.

This time, as soon as Dumbledore gave the signal, Harry surrounded himself with a physical shield and, after sidestepping Seamus' incoming curse, he threw a magical shield as well. Several arrows were sent in his direction, but they stopped a few inches from his body. Having an idea, Harry moved so that Susan fired towards Seamus. The arrows found Luna's shields, however, and the Ravenclaw girl smiled. Wondering about the girl's "role", Harry threw a couple of spells in the boy's direction, and had the half-surprise of seeing Luna's shields intercepting his curses.

Harry was impressed, but he wasn't done yet. Aiming his katana in Susan's general direction, he spoke one word.

"Accio!"

Susan heard the word, but, contrarily to what she thought, she didn't move. She didn't have time to react, though, when a chair impacted her from behind, knocking her out.

While the chair was flying, a Disillusioned girl had turned around Harry again, and, coming from his right, she was ready to repeat the disarming move. Harry's attention wasn't split like before, though: his magical shield was holding true against the spells coming from Seamus and Luna. He had no difficulty sensing Tracey's approach, then, and, just as Susan was knocked down, he threw a Stunner in her direction.

Hearing Tracey's blades clattering on the ground, and knowing that she had followed their path, Harry knew that he still had a couple of spellcasters to take care of. Turning toward them, he decided to try the magical duelling approach first. Since Luna's shields were blocking almost every curse of his, he decided to try another approach. Foregoing all defence besides his trusted shield charm, he threw numerous spells at the pair, forcing them into a more defensive stance. It was only relative, though, as only Luna worked full-time on defending their position.

Since his previous action with Susan had been successful, he wanted to see if he could repeat it, but he couldn't see an empty chair behind Seamus. That's why he voluntarily threw a couple of spells off target by a fraction of an inch. These spells gone astray were Conjuration, though, and the needed chair appeared behind Seamus. Another spell later, the piece of furniture zoomed forward and impacted the boy's head rather rudely.

Luna sensed that Seamus was off and she found out that she was the last one standing. It didn't seem to faze her, though, and Harry kept his attention on her. In numerous occasions, the girl had surprised him during their training sessions.

And she did it again.

Keeping a shield in front of her, she threw the other one at him. He ducked quickly and heard the shield clattering on the floor behind him. The two of them started to exchange spells at high speed, but Luna surprised him by repeating his previous action. She quietly Summoned her shield to her and Harry was promptly hit from behind by the rather solid item. It was only thanks to his various powers that he didn't fall unconscious. While he was distracted, though, Luna did something that he didn't catch immediately.

She awakened Tracey.

Harry charged the Ravenclaw and, wanting to end the duel quickly, he started to attack her using martial arts. When his fists met Luna's defences each time, he decided to make more of them. By throwing two punches and a kick to the girl at the same time and from different angles, he finally managed to pass over her shields and knock her out.

He looked at her prone form for a few seconds, breathing a little harder than usual, before Levitating her and Seamus. Staying on the square platform, he directed them to Madam Pomfrey, who was already anxious to see the extent of their damage. Harry had performed a cursory scan, though, and knew that they had nothing the Medi-witch couldn't heal.

Harry was prepared to hear Dumbledore announce his win. Consequently, as soon as the two teenagers were lowered on the ground, he was quite surprised to hear the whispered incantation for a Stunning spell instead. Not knowing where it was coming from and acting on reflex alone, he jumped six feet in the air, whirling around in the same move.

It was just in time, as two red beams of magic erupted through the place he had occupied before.

Following the rays' path to their source, he had the surprise to see a perfectly ready and awake Tracey crouching on the opposite corner of the square platform. She had both her wakizashis in hand and pointing at him. While he was reflecting on the fact that she had cast the spell through her blades and the numerous implications of it, she whirled around, blades slashing through the air, and stopped in a pose where her arms were outstretched, her right sword pointing forward and the other backward.

Harry tilted his head.

'Come on.' she sent. 'You have probably won that turn already. Let's give them an exhibition swordfight.'

He smiled and prepared himself as well. 'Speaking of exhibition, how can you fight in these heavy robes?'

'They are illusions, you dimwit.' she replied mockingly. 'Ready?'

He called his blade of choice, and, his legs flexed and his left side facing her, he nodded. 'You're on.'

What followed would be the talk of the school for a long time, taking almost the same amount of lines than Quidditch in the letters the students would send each other during the summer.

Harry had only one blade, but it had a longer reach and he wielded it quicker than Tracey. However, like Harry's other friends, the girl had specialized in her weapon of choice, and she knew moves that Harry hadn't seen yet. Some of them included blocking with one sword and striking with the other, forcing Harry into uncomfortable situations. At other times, she was wielding the two blades one behind the other, reinforcing an attack move: if Harry could deflect the first blade, chances were that the second would pass through.

However, the Boy-Who-Lived had a few cards up his sleeve too. Thanks to his hardened skin, he could grasp the pointy end of his own weapon and use the sword's guard as though it was an elongated tonfa: tripping Tracey or blocking her attacks this way was a sure way to annoy her. Another move was, when they were far from each other, to throw his weapon at the girl and direct it through focused use of Levitation. It wasn't as efficient as when he wielded it himself, but it was distracting her nonetheless, and he could place a few martial arts moves in the meantime.

The two of them also knew how to cast spells with their blades, and used that ability liberally. Tracey had an advantage there, because of the two blades, but she wasn't as attuned to the blades as Harry was, and her spells were under-powered when compared to her wand. Conversely, Harry had to voluntarily diminish the power he put into his spells. His katana was humming with the magic, and the first Stunner he sent – and which Tracey evaded, thankfully – broke through Dumbledore's shield.

"Sorry." he exclaimed before jumping to avoid one of Tracey's attacks.

Dumbledore chuckled and re-established the shield, putting more power behind it.

On top of the usual tactics with swords, magic, and martial arts, both fighters knew how to strengthen their skin or Levitate at will, protecting themselves from real harm and bringing the fight to levels previously unheard of in that kind of competition. Literally.

When they jumped at each other and twirled in the air, still exchanging blows, the students and teachers alike could only gape in wonder. Only Dumbledore and Flamel were smiling, knowing that, thanks to her privileged relationship with the current Defence teacher, Tracey had had access to many more abilities than a regular student. Yet, seeing the two of them going at it, they strongly suspected that they kept some of these skills well hidden.

At one point during the fight, though, Harry remembered that he could do martial arts while wielding his sword and proved his point when Tracey tried to repeat her block-and-strike dual move. His right hand left the katana's hilt and struck the nerves in her left shoulder, causing the arm to go limp and drop the weapon.

She was quite shocked at this, but, after taking a few steps back, she remembered what to do in these cases and hit her own shoulder at a different point. Her arm recovered its full mobility and, after Summoning her wakizashi again, the fight continued.

After fifteen minutes of continual swordfight, the two of them started to tire.

'How about a grand exit?' Harry mentally asked while taking a few steps backwards.

'What do you mean?'

'Your skin is hardened and all?' he enquired, conveying the image of a smirk.

'Yes, but- owwf!'

Harry had already acted. As fast as he could without modifying the time flow, he had lunged at the unsuspecting girl. Then, in the same move, he firmly planted his left leg onto the platform and threw his right in a roundhouse kick in the girl's midsection, effectively sending her flying. Stopped by Dumbledore's shield, Tracey landed in a heap, struggling for breath.

She noticed Harry's katana raised towards her, and, not wanting to experience an uncomfortable period of unconsciousness, she raised her hands in defeat.

"I yield!" she exclaimed, and her eyes acquired an evil glint. "Please spare me, good sir."

"Oy! I'll see wha' I can do for ya, wench." Harry replied in his worst imitation of a pirate's accent. Half a second later, his outfit morphed to complete the illusion.

After a moment of silence – the Hall was stunned speechless – the two of them broke in laughter and Harry helped her upright.

"Well…" Dumbledore interjected when Susan was being taken care of by Madam Pomfrey – who had just awakened Luna and Seamus. "It seems that the second round goes to Professor Evans. Are we going to see the decisive match today?"

Harry held a quick mental conversation with Tracey and invited the three others in. After a while, he asked aloud – to keep appearances. "What do you think?"

"I'm alright if we stop here." Tracey replied, and the three other contestants nodded.

"I'm alright too." Harry said.

The two of them thought that they would hear a disapproving groan from the audience, but nothing came. Looking at the still shocked ranks of students, Harry understood why.

"Uh oh. We seem to have broken them."

He waited to see if he got a reaction from that, at least. Except a few snorts, the room was still silent. When a couple students – friends enough to the group to know some of Harry's secrets, mostly – started to clap, though, the sound woke the public and they applauded as well.

When the cheer lessened, after five full minutes, Harry spoke again. "These four bested me once. They are the first to succeed. As promised, they get 100 points each."

"But they lost the second round!" a voice sounded from the back of the crowd.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but another student beat him to it. "It doesn't matter! All Houses gain the same amount!"

It was true, and it quelled the last scruples some people might have at Harry rewarding the effort.

Then, Harry and the four former contestants replayed parts of the fights to illustrate good and bad choices. The use of varied weapons was put forward, as well as Luna's team-oriented tactic of protecting and healing. When asked about the unusual moves in the last swordfight, Harry shrugged and pointed out that enough training could bring that to anyone. Many students came to him afterwards, wanting to be included in the Bushido club.

Alas, the year was drawing to a close, and they wouldn't have their wish.

---

In the parlour of a federal detainment centre, somewhere in America…

"Believe me, Dante; you'll be much better with this behind you."

The addressed 30-odd years old man frowned at his visitor before looking down. "That's fine for you to say, 'Cat. You didn't spend the last three years behind bars. And, to put all this behind me, as you said, you shouldn't call me by that name. Call me Kevin; Dark Dante is no more." A pause. "Are you sure the room is secure?"

"Positive." Blake Lenoir answered with a smirk. After all, what couldn't be done without magic? His privacy ward was so effective that even people able to read on lips wouldn't have anything to read. "Didn't I give you enough credentials for you to trust me?"

The prisoner nodded absently. "You know, I'm quite ready to admit everything they charged me with. But they want data about it. Data you know I hid among other sensitive information… And they don't trust me near a computer."

"Let me sum this up. You are stuck here until you plead guilty, but you can't prove anything without revealing even more dirt on yourself. Is that accurate?"

"Pretty much, yes."

Blake took a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and threw it to the prisoner, under the watchful gaze of the guard at the door.

"Is it… what I think it is?"

Blake nodding, the man took and unfolded the gift, and his eyes widened. "There's more than what I thought."

"Up-to-date information." Blake added absently.

Kevin frowned. "What do you mean? How did you access them?"

"As you know, there is nothing such as effective protection."

A pause.

"Why do you help me?"

Blake didn't answer this right away. He didn't say that it was a way to say sorry. Three years ago, he had met the man's electronic vault, and, with his habit of the time, he had spread some of its content on the web. And some people weren't really happy to learn how a single man had lorded over phone lines to accomplish many illegal things – like netting a Porsche by cheating a radio game.

"Let's say that I think you'd do better free." He paused and tilted his head. "A free man has a better chance to court an attractive particular attorney."

The other man blushed profusely, but smiled nonetheless. "Right." he muttered. "You're right, of course." Another pause while he was re-reading the data sheet. "With this, I even have some ammo against those self-righteous morons. Running undercover businesses, really."

Blake "Copycat" Lenoir stood and took his leave of the former hacker, satisfied. With the abilities inherited from Harry, he had prodded Kevin's mind and he was sure that he was going to be a productive element of the society very soon.

---

Flashback: Hogwarts Great Hall, a particular evening of mid-September…

"I'm not finished." the Headmaster said, and silence returned. "I'm not even finished with Quidditch. I seriously hope to raise Hogwarts' average skill in Quidditch, because, this year, a particular event has been scheduled on top of everything: there will be two more games of Quidditch scheduled this year, after the final exams. The House team in possession of the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup at that time will have the challenge of going against two other Quidditch teams to try to gain a special trophy for the school."

There was a silence following these words, and, rolling her eyes at having to play the accomplice in the man's theatrics, McGonagall whispered some more words to Dumbledore's ear.

"Oh, yes." Dumbledore said. "I forgot to tell you who you are going against. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons." He smiled while a stunned silence welcomed his words. "I expect you to crush them."

---

Three days later …

The day was Monday, and, as specified on the notice board, it was Quidditch Day.

Thanks to their performance in the last game against Ravenclaw, Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup, besting Slytherin by a mere ten points. Third was Ravenclaw, forty points behind; and Hufflepuff came last with the gross score of 280. Thus, it was the Gryffindor team that was scheduled to fly against Beauxbatons today. Needless to say, they were quite nervous. It was the penultimate game for their captain, and he was betting his future career as professional Quidditch player on it.

Neville was there, too. At some point during the year, Douglas Dougal had relinquished his Coach position in favour of the younger boy, and Neville's newfound confidence helped greatly, especially in moments like this.

"Come on, team!" he exclaimed, including the reserve players as well. "You all remember how long the game against Ravenclaw lasted? Three hours and a half, almost four! Can you imagine repeating this on an empty stomach?" He paused, and straightened up. "As your Coach, I formerly order you to go to breakfast and swallow something. We have to show the other teams that we are there! And, at least," he added with a smirk, "eating will give you something to throw up."

The laughter that followed was quite uneasy, but it was laughter nonetheless, and the fifteen students left the common room.

The three Heads of the wizarding schools had decided that each of the matches was going to take place in a different school, and the shortest straw for the one to start it had been drawn by Dumbledore. The teams, along with students and staff members wanting to watch the game, were going to portkey from one school to another the day before the game. Additionally, reporters and managers of professional teams had been invited too, and many of them were going to be there.

That's why the Gryffindor team found the Great Hall jam-packed when they arrived, and only the consideration of fellow Gryffindors had kept them places to sit. Since they weren't going to play today, the students from Durmstrang had come in small numbers. Their haughty expressions and muscular builds kept everyone off their back, though, and they stayed together. Inversely, Beauxbatons students had come in numbers, and had gladly mingled with the English students. The language proved to be a barrier, but it was quickly overcome when older students threw Translation charms around.

The five Weasleys had the pleasant surprise of finding their cousins Amaury and Susannah there. However, the fact that Amaury and his girlfriend Fleur were going to play against them dampened their spirit slightly. The composition of their reserve team was quite intriguing as well: instead of having a whole team as reserve, they had a pool of players who could play any position.

Lee Jordan had tried to extract information from the Durmstrang students about their own team, but he was unsuccessful. They would later learn that the Russian school's team had no reserve players whatsoever. And they would also learn that they didn't need any.

The breakfast soon drew to a close, and, when the tables were magically cleaned, a group of Hogwarts students belonging to the music club decided to stir the competitive atmosphere. Repeatedly banging the tables twice and clapping once, they started a rhythm that most muggle-raised students knew. Especially as they began to sing. Or yell in measure.

"Buddy you're a boy, make a big noise, playin' in the street, gonna be a big man some day…"

When the refrain came, all the English students repeated the "We will rock you" theme at the top of their lungs.

In the same vein, Beauxbatons students sang a few rhymes from Tostaky, one of the latest rock albums in French. Despite the Translation charms, the English students didn't understand the lyrics, and a good part of them reflected that their adversaries hadn't understood their message either. Whatever the case, both songs had helped raise the spirit of their respective team, and it was what counted.

After a couple of hours to get ready, everyone started to walk towards the enlarged Quidditch pitch. Since the last game, the house-elves had worked on it almost full-time, and it was now ready to host the larger-than-usual crowd. Three commentator booths had been created for the three main languages spoken in the schools, and information about how to select the commentator had been given that very morning. Lee was commenting for Hogwarts, assisted by Professor McGonagall, as usual. An excited young man was doing the job for Beauxbatons. And, apparently, nobody from Durmstrang had been interested. On Dumbledore's insistence, Harry went to their delegation and asked them, in Russian, if they wanted him to do that for them. In the same language, one of them haughtily replied that they didn't need a running commentary to ruin their view of the game.

'Cheerful fellows.' Harry thought as he was returning to his seat in the teacher's steps.

The teams were introduced – and names were pronounced incorrectly from both sides – and took flight to get their start-of-game positions. Since the game crossed frontiers, the rules were those of professional Quidditch, and Dumbledore had hired a professional referee to manage the game. Madam Pomfrey and two other Healers were also waiting on the side, potions and stretchers ready should anything happen.

And, boy, did things happen!

After a couple of warming shots at each Keeper to judge their skill, the game went into full swing. And, a dozen minutes after that, the French team drew back. Wondering, the Gryffindors barely noticed that the French Seeker was atop them, her Veela powers reaching to them.

And, when it's said that they barely noticed it, it was because they barely noticed it. The Gryffindor Chasers were female, and, unrelated to the game in any way or form, three of the four male players belonged to the small circle of Harry's friends, and they had had serious Occlumency lessons with him – even more serious than the already impressive lessons he had given in class. Only Wood seemed to drift away from his hoops a little, before raising his meagre defences and shaking his head.

Not seeing any other trap, the Gryffindors pressed their advantage, and scored a handful of times against a team that was confused about their lack of reaction to Fleur.

The part-Veela had other abilities, though, and she decided to lead Ron on a merry chase. Not having wandless Legilimency on hand, he could only follow, oscillating left and right to determine whether she was following an actual Snitch or not. She was skilled in this, though, and moved out of the way just enough to block his view. The chase ended on the ground, with Fleur executing a near-perfect Wronski Feint. It wasn't perfect because Ron didn't plough into the ground with his broom: knowing the move and having noticed the ground getting closer, Ron had jumped off his broom the moment Fleur flew off. The result was the automatic brake slamming into place, stopping the broom a mere inch from the ground. The Cushioning charm was still in place – the only stretch of professional Quidditch rules the referee had accepted – and he was in good shape. With a nod at Pomfrey and another at his Captain, Ron recovered his broom and jumped back in the fray, followed by the cheers from Hogwarts students.

The Seeker being one of the key pieces in Quidditch, both Ron and Fleur were often target of Bludgers. Their job wasn't to concentrate on the other human-controlled balls, though, and they simply flew off the way most of the time. The Keeper didn't have that chance. Once again, after having saved many goals and managing his team efficiently, Wood evaded one of the Bludgers only to get the other smacking the back of his head.

Being the reserve Keeper, Seamus was brought to the fore, and his magic fingers kept the ball out of the hoops most of the time. Thus, even though Fleur finally managed to grasp the elusive Snitch, Hogwarts won the first game of the small tournament.

During the first hours of the afternoon, the students of Hogwarts rejoiced at their team's victory, while those of Beauxbatons celebrated their catch of the Snitch. The students of Durmstrang didn't cheer anyone, and several people had the eerie feeling that they wouldn't even cheer their own team.

---

The next game was the next day, and it was pitting Durmstrang against Beauxbatons, the match being held in the French school. Around five in the afternoon, the students wanting to attend congregated in the Great Hall, where Dumbledore and the two Headmistresses from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had spelled a roll of rope into a portkey. The rope was then unrolled on the tables, where everyone could take a hold of it. When everyone was ready, the Headmaster activated the magical mean of transportation. Since there were as many Hogwarts students wanting to visit the French school than there had been visiting students from Beauxbatons, almost 400 persons disappeared, only to reappear at their destination – the Ceremony Room of the Renaissance-like castle in southern France.

There, the visiting students were shown to their dormitories and the school settled for the night.

Most of it.

Because of the added number of students and the inherently greater possibilities of mischief, some of the harshest staff members had required that the curfew be tightly enforced, and that's why Harry was patrolling the halls with his French counterpart, the local teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor Bataille. Contrarily to his English-only colleagues, Harry was able to actually talk with him, and the two of them discussed tactics and strategy even after the end of their patrol. Bataille was suitably impressed by Harry's indiscriminate use of muggle means and Harry learnt much about warfare strategy. Rediscovering that he knew Dumbledore was skilled in this as well, he resolved to ask the old man to assist at least once in the Defence curriculum.

After discovering and scolding a few students, and meeting other patrols on the way, the two Defence teachers returned to their quarters for the night. The whole time, Harry had been the only one with magical glasses, and, since each patrol had a specific part of the castle to check, no one noticed the Durmstrang players reaching the dorm for their French counterparts and cast spells on them.

The next morning, the visiting students were treated to a full breakfast, and everyone could eat what they wanted. Ron stayed true to the English breakfast, while Tracey and several others tried the coffee-and-croissant instead. In a repeat procedure of the day before, the French school intoned a warring chant to cheer their players. Contrarily to the previous day, though, Durmstrang students didn't answer, merely shrugging and conversing between themselves in Russian.

The match came soon enough, and the fourteen players took the air, the Durmstrang students in black and their hosts in pastel blue. The referee from the day before was continuing his job, as did the commentators – or lack thereof.

The match started normally enough, and both team accumulated a few dozen points each, before strange things happened. All of a sudden, the Chasers from Beauxbatons became clumsy, their Beaters inaccurate, and their Keeper sloppy-handed. It didn't last more than a few minutes, but the Russian team took advantage of it to push their advantage and score several times. When that happened again, several onlookers started to boo at the French team, and some of them even had doubts about their actual ability to play. Thinking that something was amiss, Harry tried to find an answer by entering the Keeper's mind. And what he found there compelled him to act: the teenager's mind was held under the Imperius curse, and he was obeying discreet orders by the Captain of the Durmstrang team. Harry didn't see who cast the curse, but he could work on disabling it, before doing the same for the other players – he just didn't want victims of an Unforgivable being led to a crushing defeat because of it.

The next time the order came, the Russian team was surprised to find a higher resistance from their opponents, and they reverted to a more openly brutal style of play. Deliberately throwing Bludgers at people, grabbing their adversaries' brooms or kicking them, they played at the extreme limit of what was authorized in professional Quidditch. The French students were quickly overwhelmed, and the Keeper was soon forcefully removed from the game and compelled to spend a long time in the infirmary.

A reserve player quickly took the departed Keeper's place, but that didn't change the Russians' play style. Unfortunately for Beauxbatons, their adversaries were used to attacking and defending using all the available moves from professional Quidditch, and, each time a French tried to shove the other players out of their way, they were thrown to the side instead.

An hour into the game, the black-clad players were already leading by 300 points and their counterparts couldn't find a way around their vicious moves. The real fight began when the Snitch showed itself, though: like it had been the case in several games previously, the losing team put all their resources into the chase, neglecting the Quaffle. Even though, Bludgers and opposing players sent the players away, and it was only by a stroke of luck that the Seeker – it wasn't Fleur, as the part-Veela had been downed earlier on – caught the Snitch.

Despite winning by fifty points, the Russian players were quite miffed at having lost the Snitch and their faces showed their disappointment and anger. Nobody came to appease them, though: their reaction and usual haughtiness had made it so that everybody shunned them. Still concerned about the Imperius, Harry checked with Dumbledore, but there has been no proof of the Durmstrang players having cheated and they couldn't hold them responsible. Wary of what could happen, Harry decided to spend the rest of the time until the game with the team. And, to be as discreet as possible, he did so as a teenager again: after discussing about the game with Seamus, the two of them decided that it would be better for him to replace the Irish boy.

---

Fewer students decided to go to Durmstrang. The French had little to do there, and, instead of being 150-odd students, only 30 or so came, either to visit the place or cheer on the game. Most of the students from Hogwarts came, though. With 200 people travelling by portkey, the spell was easier to cast for the heads of the three schools, and everyone soon found themselves in the cold hallways of the Durmstrang Institute of Magic.

For the visiting students, it appeared that the Russian players' attitude hadn't been rehearsed for the occasion, as almost all students there were giving them the cold shoulder. Even more than that, they were doing so towards each other as well. In Seamus' guise – the Irish boy had been morphed into a nondescript student from Hogwarts –, Harry explored the Russian minds in the same way he did the ancient institution's corridors.

It appeared that one of the goals of Durmstrang was to harden their members, "survival of the fittest" seeming to be their hidden motto. The castle was scarcely heated and the meals were often including mostly rare meat. The staff and students alike shunned the students incapable of being moulded following that rule, and the very few outgoing and cheerful students Harry met in his exploration were stigmatized by their peers. Some even had scars.

With the school's objectives in mind, Harry recognized that they had played Quidditch accordingly, and he wondered if his own team was going to survive the encounter. Durmstrang didn't have an infirmary, for instance, and he doubted that Quidditch-related wounds would be occurring to anyone but the English team.

It was quite late when he went to sleep, all these dark thoughts swirling in his mind.

A mere couple of hours later, he was awakened by the entrance of several students, who immediately started to throw the same curse left and right. Harry knew the spell, since it was one of the Unforgivables, and he let them do it, as did the other team members. Most of them were close friends of his with sturdy mental defences, and all of them had been warned about the possibility of this treachery happening.

Of course, if the trespassing students had had bloodier intentions, the visiting team would have reacted otherwise.

The rest of the night was uneventful, and the Gryffindors awoke to find Harry using Conjuration and Transfiguration to create a solid breakfast. Since they knew that their Imperius-related orders had been to sleep late and miss breakfast, they had no qualm to lunge at the tantalizing food eagerly.

An hour later, the game started and the fourteen players were flying in the cold morning air. Contrarily to their previous game, though, the Russian players quickly noticed that their usual moves weren't working anymore. From the sidelines, Harry was directing his friends efficiently, all scruples about cheating put at ease by the fact that the black-clad players had tried to control them even before the match. And with Unforgivables, no less.

Seeing that their underhanded spellcasting had failed somehow, the black-clad players returned to their violent play and started to off players again. Once again, Oliver Wood was target by several balls at the same time, and some players went actually as far as striking him bodily while the referee was looking in the other direction. Despite being quite robust and giving back as much as he received, the large Hogwarts graduate wasn't used to such brutality, and his exhaustion caused him to fail to notice the Seeker heading his way from behind. Instead of having his head smashed, though, it was his very spine that got struck, this time, and he fell on the cold and un-Cushioned rocky ground, earning himself a couple of broken bones. Since Madam Pomfrey was accompanying the team on that inter-school tour, she rushed to the fallen player's side in seconds and started to work her magic on him, all the time muttering about homicidal teens.

The Gryffindors didn't even have the possibility of calling a recess, since that was the Captain's prerogative. Harry had anticipated this, though. He had jumped on his broom as soon as Wood was struck and had zoomed towards the hoops as soon as the fallen captain had touched the ground – any sooner than that was against the rules.

With his many powers, it was easier to block the Quaffle, and Harry had no desire to let the ball pass. From that moment, the Durmstrang team didn't score at all. The players who approached from behind with the intentions of knocking him out were met by his hardened body, thrown backwards so casually that no one could tell if it was voluntarily. Bludgers thrown to him were either evaded or ignored, his toughened skin not even bruising because of them – and he even caught a few of them and threw them to disrupt the opposing team's play. The Durmstrang Beaters took a "liking" in him and started to continually sending the heavy balls at him. On one of these occasions, Harry was occupied with tracking the Quaffle and the other players, and he decided to simply ignore the incoming Bludger, knowing that its trajectory was such that it wouldn't harm him.

And harm him it didn't… it struck his broom instead. Spot on.

The charms keeping the broom in the air unravelled and Harry dropped a few feet, before his instincts kicked in and he Levitated himself and the broom back in place. In the meantime, though, the Quaffle had passed the right hoop and the Durmstrang players smirked – their version of cheering.

From then on, Harry had a more difficult time moving around, but, just as he blocked the Quaffle for the third time after the broom incident, he noticed the Durmstrang Seeker moving stealthily in a particular direction.

'Ron!' he called. 'The Snitch!'

The redhead shot after his counterpart, and the two of them chased the fluttering ball around the pitch. Since Durmstrang was currently losing, their Seeker was desperate to get the ball before his red-haired opponent, and he kicked him to the side several times. Ron's smaller frame proved to be a liability, then, as one of these pushes made his course intersect the hoop poles.

He fell to the ground and was quickly treated by Madam Pomfrey while his replacement shot in the air from the sidelines. Ginny Weasley was by no mean a stronger player than her brother, but her starting position proved to be an advantage, especially as she had been on her broom already, ready to zoom into action. Just as her twin brothers were forcing the black-clad Seeker to swerve out of the way with a well-targeted Bludger, she crossed the path of the golden ball and grasped it in her small fingers.

Calculating the points in his head, Harry was surprised to find that Hogwarts and Durmstrang had exactly the same number of points. The results of the three games were, in order, 250-230 for Hogwarts, 390-240 for Durmstrang, and 340-200 for Hogwarts.

Visibly, Dumbledore and his Russian counterpart had made the same computation and were discussing about what to do. The Headmistress of Durmstrang thought that, having gained more points on their exterior game, they should be rewarded with the trophy, and she ignored Dumbledore's pleas about Hogwarts having gained more games. After several minutes, Dumbledore managed to grab her and whisper something in her ear. Paling, she reluctantly agreed to the proposition from Madame Maxime, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons: shoot penalties, one Chaser against one Keeper, until three were scored.

The commentators explained the circumstances to the teams and the audience, and the teams prepared themselves for the unusual end of game. Despite the fact that Keeper was his position of choice, Harry didn't want to be disadvantaged by his broom, and he Levitated himself to the ground to exchange his broom for a functional one. The two teams started to exchange shots at the guarded hoops. It was only after half an hour that the Gryffindor Chasers succeeded in throwing the last winning throw, and the 150 Hogwarts supporters cheered their players heartily.

Despite having won, it annoyed Harry that Durmstrang could have won the whole tournament by cheating. He had a faint idea about what Dumbledore had told his Russian counterpart, though, and he smirked. At the same time, it also reminded him that the sum of points in a tournament such as this one, like Hogwarts' own Quidditch Cup, was more important than the number of games won. Actually winning a tournament meant that one had an actual strategy instead of simple game-related tactics – the parallel with his Defence course was easy.

Thoughts of strategy reminded him about Voldemort too: where was he in his fight with the Dark Lord?

It was with that question in his mind that he took the portkey back to England.

---

That Friday evening…

As usual, the Leaving Feast was impressive, with mountains of food to devour. No one was eating yet, though, as they were waiting the customary revelation of this year's winners of the House Cup. It wasn't much of a suspense: the students having two brain cells to rub together had already added the known results of the Quidditch Cup with the House points displayed in coloured hourglasses in the Entrance Hall.

Dumbledore confirmed their computations quickly. "Welcome for the Leaving feast." he intoned. "As is the case each year, many proficient students will leave these walls, leaving the place for younger ones to come next September. Our graduated students will be honoured after the Feast, but I can already tell you several things." A pause. "Well, you know it already, but the winner for the Quidditch Cup is Gryffindor. Can the team come forward?"

The Headmaster gave the large cup to the ecstatic team, who showed it to the room proudly. The Gryffindor table cheered, while the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws clapped politely. Almost no Slytherin moved a finger. After the team finished moving the cup around, they gave it to McGonagall, their Head of House, and Dumbledore spoke again.

"In addition to this honour, this distinguished team has fought valiantly against the best players of the two largest magical schools in Europe… and won!" In the applause coming from the whole room, Dumbledore tried to say that he was going to present them with the trophy but the sound was already deafening and he gave another cup to the Gryffindors.

It took another dozen minutes to lower the rejoicing to a manageable level, and, after dismissing the Quidditch players, Dumbledore continued his speech. "I know that some of you have made calculations about who'd get the House Cup. Others have only made suppositions. I happen to know that some of you were wrong while others were correct." Dumbledore paused, taking a parchment from his pocket. "In fourth place with 280 points obtained in Quidditch and 838 points for their academic realizations, I give you… Hufflepuff!"

The house of Loyalty cheered, even if they knew that they low score in Quidditch was handicapping them greatly in the run for the House Cup.

"With 900 and 812 points, a particular house is… ex aequo with another who has 890 and 822 points. I give you… Gryffindor and Slytherin."

The two age-long enemies cheered at the same time, and the sight was so unnerving that they stopped almost instantly. They did have the same score, after all, and the applause resumed, although it was a little subdued.

"And, with 860 and 947 points, the winner for the House Cup is Ravenclaw!" Dumbledore exclaimed, his last words drowned in the cheer from the concerned students.

When the commotion died down, he had only a couple of words for the students: "Now… dig in!"

And they did.

---

The next day saw, as usual, the chaotic boarding up of the return train to London. The Hogwarts Express was majestic as ever, seemingly unperturbed by the agitation around it.

Most of these students were coming back from nine months of hard labour and learning, with a fuller head than when they arrived. Some of them, however, had lost memories in the way. And several specific individuals had had a mind-updating session the previous night, storing their Light-aligned memories in the Headmaster's pensieve – said Headmaster storing them in carefully labelled containers afterwards.

The only thing that Theodore Nott and his Slytherin friends were bringing "home" and that wasn't school-related was the little mosquito-like mind virus that Harry had perfected again. Among other tasks, it made sure that absolutely nothing remained of the removed memories.

Because of the attack on Hogsmeade, everyone knew that there were still dark wizards at large, and the train had been heavily warded by the teachers and a couple of persons outside the school. On top of that, at least one adult was going to be present in each carriage – including a few Aurors.

When the train left the station, everyone thought that the ride would be safe. They didn't know that the dark wizards would use the opportunity to spread terror some more.

Despite all the precautions taken, the train was effectively ambushed in the middle of its trip, by several trees fallen across the tracks. It was only thanks to the numerous additional charms on it that the locomotive wasn't destroyed on impact. The train was stopped rather forcefully, though, causing an infernal noise. Everyone was swept off their feet and knocked to the sides of their compartments, some students falling badly or passing out. Or both. Those who were in the corridors fell and rolled head over heels to the corridor's front end.

When the noise stopped, an eerie silence descended upon the train, only broken by sniffles and cries of fear or pain.

Harry was stationed near the start of the train, and he was one of the few not falling down. He immediately tried to Apparate, only to find the gaseous reality blocked. He lost a few seconds trying several identities from Death Eaters he knew before guessing that it was either tied to something he didn't have or just a plain ward not linked to anything.

In his few seconds of thoughts, nothing untoward happened and he wondered if someone had pressed the "emergency halt" buttons scattered along the train. Yanking a side door open and looking outside, he immediately noticed that it didn't have anything to do with such an accidental stop.

Wizards were posted near the end of the train, and they were opening fire on the carriages there, while slowly advancing towards the middle. Visibly, they hadn't thought that the train would continue advancing through the barrage before stopping.

What Harry didn't know, though, was that there were fewer guards in the last carriages than was scheduled. One of them was Tonks, and she had managed to break an arm and fall unconscious. Another was Flitwick. The last one was Flamel.

The diminutive teacher had been doing his best to protect the students, but there were simply too many enemies and he had been put under the Cruciatus a couple of times before being hit with a Bone-breaking curse and a Petrifying hex at the same time. The result was rather painful – for him and for anyone noticing his condition.

That left Flamel. And, despite being powerful and knowledgeable, Nicholas Flamel had sworn not to harm any sentient life. The ancient alchemist was casting shields on himself and on the train, and was sidestepping or conjuring obstacles to deflect the unblockable curses thrown his way.

Harry jumped on the train roof – it was more even than the rocky ground – and ran to his mentor, Disillusioning himself on the way.

On his way, he noticed that a few adult guards had come outside and were firing at the attackers already. Through opened windows, the bravest and most knowledgeable students were opening fire as well. As he finally reached Flamel, he noticed that his old master was suddenly panting, as if struck by Merlin-knows-why curse. It wasn't the case, though.

The man's main defence against Unforgivables was to conjure walls, and he didn't know that, hidden by the undergrowth, a few Death Eaters had morphed into their snake Animagus shape and slithered towards him.

One of them had had the misfortune of being in the area of effect of a conjured wall, and he died almost instantly.

The ancient alchemist knew at once that his oath had been broken, and, feeling his magic leave him, he decided to make a good use of what he had. Throwing a last glance at his apprentice, one that conveyed regret at leaving him but defiance at their foe, the old man raised his wand a last time and opened his magic reserve, pouring it all out before it was depleted by the result of his broken oath.

The result was a blinding light which travelled towards the six Death Eaters still in front of him, and which obliterated them and the trees nearby. Nothing would remain from the immediate vicinity.

Noticing this, the remaining dark wizards thought that the Light side had invented a new kind of weapon, and they Apparated out.

The "new weapon" was taking its last breaths, though. Lying in Harry's arms, Flamel was painfully drawing oxygen to his failing body.

"Harry…" he tried to say, but blood came to his mouth and he coughed.

"You didn't have to do that." Harry said. He hadn't noticed the dying snake, and thought that Flamel had done his last attack only to help defeat the Death Eaters.

"Was… already… dying." Flamel coughed again. "Oath." he explained, nodding at the dead snake nearby. He then turned his already glassy eyes upwards and grabbed Harry's robe in a last attempt to straighten up. With his last breath, he whispered a last word to his ear.

"Memoirs." Harry heard, before the man that had lived for more than six centuries, his mentor and friend, Nicholas Flamel fell back, dead.

"I'll avenge you, old friend." Harry muttered, his eyes prickling, before feeling two arms wrapping around him from the side. Grasping Tracey against him, he surrendered to his grief and cried for the first time in a long while.

After several long minutes, a gentle hand landed on his shoulder. "Professor Flitwick has been portkeyed to St Mungo, and the track has been cleared." Kinglsey Shacklebolt said gently. "What is it you want us to do?"

"Go." Harry said simply. "I will… I'll take care of him."

'Do you want me to go, too?' Tracey asked mentally.

Still holding the deceased man, he turned to her. 'No. Stay, please.'

'I wouldn't have left you anyways.' she replied.

"Is the anti-Apparation field removed?" Harry asked to the black Auror, who nodded.

Harry nodded back, and, wordlessly, he Disapparated, along with Tracey and Flamel's body.

---

The three of them reappeared in a graveyard flanking a small church. Harry searched for some time, until he found his target: a single slab of white marble, a fresh rose resting upon it.

"That's Perenelle's grave." Harry breathed. "And now it's his."

Working from pebbles close by, a gold Galleon, and branches from a nearby tree, Harry created a truly beautiful coffin where he put his mentor to rest. Since the man's wand had burnt because of the energy spent through it, Harry took the one wand he possessed that belonged to the dead alchemist and laid it in his friend's cold fingers. He finally straightened the man's clothes. He knew no one who had been buried in shabby clothes.

Taking a step back, he looked at his friend for a last time before sealing the coffin. Then, with a wave of his wand, he opened the marble slab and Levitated Nicholas Flamel to his resting place.

"Rest in peace, master." he said as the white marble returned to its initial place. "You earned it. And more. Much more."

With Tracey at his side, he cried again, his body slowly returning to its normal aspect.

It was only an hour later that he was ready to go. "Thank you." he said to the closed tomb. "For everything."

The two magical teenagers then disappeared, unconcerned about the surprised locals.

On the tomb, a white rose was intertwined with the red one that had been there.

---

Harry and Tracey landed in their bedroom of their house in Newcastle. Harry immediately looked at his girlfriend intently. "Thank you, Trace. He really was someone for me. Thanks for having stayed."

"You're welcome." she started to answer, before he leaned in and kissed her.

It stayed chaste and they separated slowly afterwards. While Harry closed his eyes to sleep his emotional exhaustion away, Tracey sensed something on her lips.

It was salty.

It was tears.

---

One hour and twenty-seven minutes later, Harry awoke with a start. It took him a few seconds to remember everything that had happened before, and he wondered why he had felt such an urge to wake up.

Seeing Tracey entering the room, he remembered.

"The train!" he exclaimed.

"What about it?" she asked. "Last thing I remember about it, you were telling Auror Shacklebolt to go."

"Come with me?" he asked, extending his hand. "I'll tell you on our way."

She agreed and the two of them Apparated out and headed towards London.

"First of all, there's our trunks there." Harry started. "But there's also a couple of students of whom I want to know the whereabouts."

"Nott and Parkinson?"

Harry nodded. "And their… friends."

A few minutes later, they entered the gaseous reality of King's Cross station and hurried towards platform 9¾. The train had already arrived, and several people were on the platform already. Harry sensed around and noticed Nott and his friends already congregated around an adult he didn't know.

"You take care of the luggage?" he asked Tracey, not losing sight of his prey.

"Alright. Meet you here or at home?"

"At home. I think it's closer to their destination. Give our friends my regards."

"Will do." she replied, before noticing that Nott and his group of friends had left. "Go, now!"

Harry hadn't waited for her order, and he was already tailing the travelling group of students. Given their travelling method, it seemed that they had a portkey: portkeys were charmed items allowing the Apparation of a large group of people at once. It was also quicker, but only because everyone in the travelling group was whirling around in the gaseous reality. For an unknown reason, that speeded up the trip.

Harry didn't care about that, though. He had long since learnt how to go really fast in the gaseous reality, and he was able to follow the group quite efficiently.

He had to stop, though, when he felt the border of a large anti-Apparation area. Not only was it quite large, but it also reeked of evilness. Once again, Harry tried to change his identity but it didn't change anything and he guessed that it had something to do with the Death Eaters' mark. And he wasn't ready to get branded by Voldemort just to enter.

If he ever got close enough to the Dark Lord to get branded, he could as well try to kill him. Again.

Besides, he could always Apparate in and walk there, couldn't he?

That's what he did.

Or, rather, that's what he tried to do: once back in tangibility, he noticed… that nothing could be noticed. In front of him was a vacant lot, a little larger than the magical ward preventing entry.

Since he didn't see anyone there, he knew that there was more than an anti-Apparation ward in effect. Perhaps even a Fidelius. Harry sensed his surroundings magically, and it confirmed his hunch: he clearly sensed a large area covered by spherical wards, and inside these were several personal auras – although these were blurred by the wards, making their owner indistinguishable. Fortunately – or not –, having experienced one of them against his own house in Geneva, Harry knew of ways to bypass Fidelius-like charms.

He resolved to ask Powell about it as soon as it was manageable, and, after memorizing the place in order to be able to come back later, he headed back home.

---

In the meantime, Tracey had Apparated inside the compartment she had been occupying during the train ride, only to find her trunk gone. Leaving the train and grabbing her pendant, she immediately called the person who had been with her during the first half of the ride.

'Hermione, I'm back in the train. Where are you?'

There was no answer at first: she was better at sending than receiving mental messages; it was only because Harry could send messages as well as receiving them that the two of them could discuss in that way. But a girl crossed the magical doorway and quickly spotted her in the emptying platform.

"Hey!"

"Hermione!" the Slytherin girl called.

"How is Harry?" Hermione asked intently. "How are you, by the way?"

"Thanks for your concern." she replied acerbically, before smiling. "I'm alright. Harry is… he was sad."

"Was?"

"Yeah." Tracey said. 'He's after Nott right now.'

Hermione's lips made a silent O before moving again. "He doesn't stop, does he?"

Tracey shook her head and the two of them stayed silent for a few seconds.

"Oh, before I forget!" Hermione exclaimed, and she handed two match-sized blocks of wood. "Your trunks." she elaborated. "I wonder how I'd carry mine if I didn't have the secondary wand we bought in Switzerland."

"It's a pity, really." Tracey concurred. "These charms should be included in the default trunks sold to first years."

Hermione nodded enthusiastically and opened her mouth to add something when a stray thought came to her. "My parents!"

"What about them?"

"I left them when I heard your mental call."

"You should go, then."

"What about you?"

Tracey smirked. "Me? I'll go home too."

"Newcastle?" Hermione asked, remembering a discussion the group of Harry's friends had had some months ago. When Tracey nodded, she smiled. "Take care of you. And of him."

"Will do, chief!" the Slytherin girl saluted, before the two of them dissolved in giggles.

After a last hug, the two of them departed, heading to their respective homes.

---

I need information about where I can buy the same kind of automatic gun turrets that demolished our house.

Harry surveyed the message he was ready to send. After a few seconds, he added "Please." and sent it.

Tracey arrived at the same moment.

"Everything's fine?" they asked at the same time, before chuckling.

"Plenty of wards." Harry started. "I couldn't pass or even see through them."

Tracey nodded. The fact that Harry hadn't been in a scuffle had an added bonus of him being whole and healthy, and she wasn't going to complain about that.

"Hermione had taken our stuff out of the train." she said to answer his own question. She proceeded in taking the reduced trunks and enlarging them. "Here we are." she added with an odd light in her eyes. "Ready to settle down."

Harry nodded, smirking. The irony of that particular sentence wasn't lost to him. "I hope so." he replied. "Just don't forget that he's not dead yet."

He didn't have to tell her who he was speaking about, and she acquiesced. "Will it ever end?" she asked, hugging him.

"Soon. I-"

His sentence was interrupted by a discreet ping coming from his communication booklet. "Ah. Answers." he joked. When he went to read what he thought was Powell's answer to his previous message, he frowned.

"What is it?"

"It's Dumbledore."

"…well? What does he want?"

Harry looked at her. "He wants me."

"You?"

"He wants "Harry Potter" to help him recruit a replacement. For… Nicholas."

A pause.

"Why would he need you?"

Harry shrugged. "He doesn't say."

"Well… ask him, then." she said, walking towards the kitchen to fix themselves something to eat.

"There's more." Harry called back. "He wants both of us to go to Hogwarts."

Another pause.

"Let me guess… he doesn't say why?"

"You win."

"Very well. When?"

"Now."

She frowned, before nodding. "Alright. There's nothing to eat anyways and it's Saturday afternoon."

"Meaning?"

"The groceries are packed right now, and house-elves' meals are better."

He smiled. "Hogwarts should include a course about magically-produced meals."

Trying to suppress her giggles, she frowned. "Do you mean I'm a poor housewife, Mr Potter?"

His expression mirroring hers, he approached her and hugged her. "I think that, if that's your choice, you'll do a wonderful housewife." He kissed her. "Mrs Potter."

A stunned pause.

"Is that a proposal?" she asked softly.

"Well… I don't have a ring, but-"

His next words were drowned by her lips kissing his.

Almost a minute later, they were interrupted by a soft ping.

"Damn." she breathed.

"And you kiss me with those lips?" Harry asked mockingly, before evading a slap on the arm. He looked at the booklet again. "Seems that our illustrious headmaster is in a hurry."

"Let me guess… he wants us now?"

Harry held his hand forward. "Shall we, my lady?"

"Why, indubitably, good sir." she replied, holding his hand while trying to suppress a chuckle.

They were quickly whisked away.

---

Dumbledore was just closing the communication booklet when the two teenagers appeared out of thin air. Despite his aged and saddened countenance, he welcomed then warmly.

"Ah, Harry. And Tracey. Good to see you."

"You requested the two of us, sir?" Harry asked.

"Yes. First of all, I want you to tell me what happened in the train."

Harry understood that the man had just lost his mentor as well, and, in a sober tone, he retold how Flamel met his demise and where he had been buried. Dumbledore nodded along, his expression inscrutable.

When Harry finished speaking, the old man closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When they opened again, the two teenagers knew that his grief had been put to the side for the time being.

"Before we go into the subject of your call, Headmaster," Harry began, "How is Professor Flitwick?"

"Filius is in St Mungo, and the Healers have succeeded in stabilizing him. He will need a few weeks to heal completely, but he'll recover in time for school."

"Thanks." Harry nodded.

"I have something to ask you, Harry. I already had contact with a former Potion Master and Professor before… before Nicholas took the spot. But the man I'm talking about had a particular request to be complied with before he would accept." A pause. "That request was that he'd teach you."

"What?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. "Why would he want something like that? Is he a Death Eater?" he asked, his eyes hardening.

Dumbledore raise his hands. "No, he's not. You see, Horace likes to know the "important" people in the wizarding world – his name is Horace Slughorn, by the way. To each man his own folly." he added with a renewed twinkle in his eyes. "Seriously, now. Horace thrives on social circles, and he spent a good portion of his time here promoting the people with talent."

Harry was frowning, his previous accusation not forgotten. "Since he loves high society, he must have met all the pure-blooded Death Eater, right?"

"It is possible, Harry. But Horace was also hunted by the Death Eaters when Voldemort came to power. That's why he left in a hurry and why Severus took his place as Potion Master and Slytherin Head of House."

"Why?"

"As I said, he promoted people with talent, and, more often than not, these were muggleborns. It seems that, being plunged in an unknown world, the muggleborns work harder to get recognition, and they eventually surpass the purebloods. But I digress." A pause. "If it can help you in your decision, Harry, know that two particular people you know about belonged to Horace's little club and you will surely like to chat about them."

Harry looked at the Headmaster shrewdly, trying to intercept revealing thoughts about the two people in question. Dumbledore was occluding his mind, though, and the only thing he could get from the old man was an infuriating smile.

"Who?"

"Humour an old man, Harry, and guess."

A pause. "My parents?"

"Yes… and no."

Harry huffed. "You speak in riddles, Headmaster."

"And that's the second one."

Another pause. Harry rewound the conversation, before shaking his head. "You're barmy, you know."

"I try to live up to my reputation." Dumbledore said. "Do you want a lemon sherbet?"

Not derailed by the non sequitur, Harry frowned. "So… I can ask that Horace person about Voldemort. Now, which of my parents were you talking about? Oh, yes. Muggleborns, you said. My mother, right?"

"Right in one." the old man said, before leaning forward. "Do you agree, then?"

Harry exhaled loudly before acquiescing. "Alright."

"Perfect! Do you have your travelling bags?"

"Travelling bags?" asked Tracey, who had been silent until now.

"Horace is hiding in America. We are going a-hunting, and it may take a while. That's why I asked for the two of you to come. I surmise you don't want to be separated, now that the school has ended."

The two teenagers blushed slightly, but they nodded nonetheless.

"When?" Harry enquired.

"As soon as you're ready."

Harry and Tracey looked at each other. "If you can ask the house-elves to fix a light meal, we can be here in less than an hour." Harry said. "That should be enough to pack our trunks accordingly and to send a couple messages home."

"Alright. I believe my Hanky has everything you might want to eat."

A pause. This time, Dumbledore made no secret the real meaning of his words – Hanky was his house-elf, not his handkerchief.

"You are really barmy, Albus."

The old man's answer was a wide grin, and the two teens left to pack.

---

When they arrived, Harry threw a side glance to his booklet, but stopped when he noticed that his spy friend had answered.

I'm at Genni's.

Harry thought about it before turning to Tracey. "Powell has information for me. You prefer to stay packing or to come with me?"

She walked to him, pouting. When he tried to think of another option, she stood on her toes and kissed him. "Promise you'll stay fine."

"I promise."

"Go, then. I'll pack your stuff and send a message to Dumbledore saying that something has come up."

"Did I tell you that I loved you?" Harry asked.

It had started as a jest, but he noticed that Tracey was quite moved by his words. "Not recently, no. And not in so many words." she replied.

"I do love you, though." he said, before pecking her lips again. "Smack me each day I forget to tell you."

Her mood lightened and she smirked. "Alright." she replied simply, and Harry realized that he might have bitten off more than he could chew.

With a last goodbye, he Apparated to Switzerland.

---

Harry and Powell spent half an hour discussing about the requirements of the turret, where to find one, and how to operate it. After taking the appropriate memories, Harry Apparated to a MI-6 controlled warehouse in London. Once there, staying in the gaseous reality, he used a Duplication charm to get a copy of such a turret. This done, he shrunk the weapon and proceeded to do the same with the ammunition boxes.

Equipped as though he was going to war – which he was, actually –, Harry hurled himself through space again and landed in Little Hangleton, the town where Nott and his friends were hiding. After searching an empty place to place the turret, Harry prepared it and dropped it in front of the anti-Apparation ward. Then, still hiding most of his body in the gaseous reality, he activated it.

It was a good thing that he was intangible.

The first bullet fired at the hidden place slowed as soon as it met the wards' edge and a humming sound started to resonate. Crackling bolts of energy, a sickly kind of yellow in colour, appeared around the protected place and congregated around the slowly falling piece of metal. A feeling of dread crept up Harry's spine as he noticed the bolts' behaviour: it was as if they were sniffing the bullet, trying to guess where it came from.

Realization struck him, and he had just the time to cast a powerful physical shield around the turret before the yellow bolts hurried on the projectile's path. When they found the still-firing turret, Harry had finished casting the shield and was Apparating his wand out.

And the turret exploded.

---

Hi again, Max,

First of all, thanks for your information. Everything was exactly where you said it was and I magically copied one of the turrets there. No one saw me.

The turret worked, but the enemy had stronger wards. I think it was a physical protection barrier accompanied with another one tracing the projectiles to their source and exploding said source.

Sorry about the magical words… My ears are still ringing from the explosion and I needed to put all that on paper to straighten my thoughts. Don't worry, I'm fine. I even cleaned up behind me so no one will find rogue MI-6 material lying in a street.

Any ideas?

Gotta go, now. Recruitment mission for the Headmaster. In America. Duh!

H.P.

---

H.P.

Just a thought: how far were you from the barrier? Perhaps, if you were farther, the thing wouldn't have found you.

I will scour my contacts and give you more ideas later.

Stay safe,
Max

---

Albus Dumbledore looked up, startled, when the fireplace came to life. In his preparations for leaving the country, he had established the usual wards on it, and very few people could connect to it right now.

When he noticed who it was who crossed the threshold, though, he jumped to his feet.

"Oliver!" he greeted the old wandmaker.

"Albus!" his visitor answered. "I'm ready, now."

The two of the settled down and Dumbledore spoke first, voluntarily ignoring the fact that another presence had just arrived.

"I didn't think that you would be so quick in straightening your affairs. Is your shop closed and all?"

"Yes. Because of Riddle's last visit, I know the shops aren't safe, and it would be a blow to our cause for him to take possession of my stock of wands." Oliver Ollivander patted his pocket, where a shrunk vault was stored. A vault full of wands and of the wandmaker's paraphernalia. "Despite this, I wanted to stay true to my first vocation of granting access to magic to youngsters."

"I remember your previous call." Dumbledore said, nodding. "I have made it so a set of rooms is reserved for your private use. We will take time, this summer, to organize the Sorting Feast so that our first years will be fitted with a wand at the same time."

"It could take some time. Days, even. If we are to fit every first-year at the same period."

"Don't worry, we will plan accordingly." A pause. "Now, I believe you want to settle down and rebuild a proper testing room."

"I believe you made good use of the one in Diagon Alley, Albus."

"I remember, old friend. I remember. Woody!" the Headmaster called, turning to the side.

A house-elf appeared in a crack and Dumbledore told him to direct Ollivander to his new quarters.

"I will be gone for a few days." the Headmaster told his visitor as they were both heading to the door.

"Ah, yes? How soon?"

"This evening, in fact. Feel free to call Woody for your basic needs, and ask him to direct you to Minerva McGonagall for anything else."

"Alright, Albus. Pleasant trip."

"Thank you, old friend. Thank you."

After closing the door, Dumbledore turned towards his office. "You heard everything?"

Two people shimmered into view. "Pretty much, yes." Harry replied.

"How did you know we were there?" Tracey asked.

"I think you stopped yourselves just before Apparating in, but just by that." the old man replied, holding his hand up with the tips of his thumb and index finger almost touching. "I felt the air moving." A pause. "So, what do you think? And what had come up, as you told me?"

Harry retold his little experience with the turret and the reasons behind his choice. Despite not knowing exactly what the engine was, Dumbledore had a good visualization of war machines thanks to his own experience and he frowned.

"It's a good thing that nothing happened to you, this time." he scolded Harry. "But remember that the next time, there could be damage done unto you or innocent witnesses. You should be accompanied."

Harry relented and Dumbledore smiled warmly. Even if Dumbledore had no tie to tie Harry down, he hoped that his advice would be valued by the young man in front of him.

"Concerning the wands," Tracey spoke up, "I think that Mr Ollivander should meet a colleague of him." she finished, looking at Harry, and the boy nodded.

"What do you mean?" the Headmaster enquired.

"There are means to accelerate the choosing of one's wand." she replied. "It will be up to the two wandmakers to decide to spread the idea or not, though." She turned to Harry. "I don't think Mrs Klein would like her spell to be disclosed too just anyone or without compensation."

Harry nodded. "When we'll be back, I'll see her."

They fell into a comfortable silence, only broken by Dumbledore a few seconds later.

"Am I correct to assume that you found a wandmaker outside England, hence having untraced wands? And that at least your friends have some too?"

Harry and Tracey grinned.

"Now, now, Headmaster." the boy replied. "That would be telling, wouldn't it?"

The Headmaster took his head in his hands and groaned.

"What is it about?" Tracey asked. "It's not like they will abuse it and you know it."

"Let's just hope that this little fact doesn't come to the ears of certain people…" he trailed off.

"People who are dead, for the most part." Harry said with a blank face.

After another pause, a little more uncomfortable than the last, Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Are you ready? I have a portkey to our destination."

"Good for you." Harry answered, grinning. "I personally don't like being held by the navel and swirled around."

"How are you going to go?" Dumbledore asked.

"We'll follow you." Tracey piped in. "Or rather, he will follow you, dragging me along the way."

"But… how…" The old man closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking at the two of them again. "Something tells me that it's not the end of your abilities yet."

"That particular something… is accurate." Harry deadpanned.

---

Three weeks later…

"Nice place." Hermione said, looking around the apartment.

"Thanks." Genevieve replied. "I try to keep it that way."

The Ravenclaw girl sat at the table and unshrunk a folder before opening it and passing the sheets it contained to the young woman. "I have thought about the last designs I gave you and there were some inconsistencies relative to the theory of magic fields. I thought about moving barriers but that isn't easily done, even with magic. However, with the experience we gained in a recent battle, I can already help you by casting a tube-shaped barrier and a receiving box atop it. A system of valves would ensure that the collected particles stay at the bottom of the tube."

Genevieve was browsing the documents, and she frowned.

"What is it?" Hermione enquired.

"I wonder if we can catch some dark matter. How far can you make it?"

"I don't know… I haven't tried casting it more than a few meters in the air, so…"

Browsing the documents, the particle scientist made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat.

"What is that… dark matter?" Hermione asked.

"One of the enigmas of science. It is something we can't prove is there, but which actual presence would prove our current theories true. Especially the weight of the universe."

"The… weight? Of the universe?"

"Yes. We know that the universe is much heavier than the cumulative sum of all the stars in it. Even with a few planets around each star, we don't reach the difference."

Hermione thought about it for a moment before frowning. "Isn't it weird that you come up with a theory and try to apply to the world around you?" she asked candidly.

Genevieve looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"Well… I don't know… don't you try to find a theory that would be including everything you see? Including the lack of dark matter?"

"It's just that the theory is so… elegant. Removing the dark matter unknown would make it tremendously more convoluted."

The two of them fell in a thoughtful silence, before the woman suddenly remembered something Hermione had said. "You spoke about… a battle?"

"It's over. There had been no casualties on our side, and the AA-fields helped restrict the dangerous creatures and destroy them."

The young scientist shuddered, suddenly glad that the muggle world had a distinct separation between civilians and soldiers. Even then, the thought that mere children were fighting hazardous creatures brought worry to her mind. "Did you… kill people?" she asked, before elaborating. "With these barriers, I mean."

"No…" Hermione said, but her gaze was distant for a few minutes. "Although… it could be possible."

"What?" Genevieve asked, scandalized. In her mind, killing dangerous creatures was alright, but doing the same to humans wasn't.

Hermione thought that the Swiss woman was asking for more information and she sat back to explain. "The theory behind Apparation – the usual mean of personal travelling for witches and wizards – states that it's the traveller's magic that determines the pathway taken from their source to their destination." Ignoring Genevieve's baffled look, the girl continued speaking, writing some side notes as she went. "Harry's observation makes me wonder about that pathway: it seems that the Apparating wizards and witches can't change position while travelling. If I were to set an anti-Apparation wall in a shape of a grid, I wonder if the pathway would go through it. They would splinch themselves, perhaps… Yes, surely, even. That would take care of them."

Genevieve gasped, bringing Hermione back to the reality around her.

"Sorry, I got a little carried away, there."

"You… you were seriously planning ways of… killing people?" the woman asked.

The Ravenclaw girl understood that her research topic was a little extreme, and she tried to explain herself. "You see, in the wizarding world, there are people waging war on the society as a whole. You can call them terrorists, if you wish. They use to torture, rape, and murder the families that oppose them. I'd rather have them dead rather than having them kill my family and my friends."

She paused for a few seconds, gathering her thoughts, before continuing.

"The problem is that these terrorists' general ideology is shared by many influent people in our society, and little has been done by the official powers to quench their uprising. On top of that, the leader of the people opposing them is the Headmaster of my school, and these terrorists often target it. With Harry's help, we have learnt how to defend ourselves."

Genevieve snorted, but Hermione was on a roll.

"Yes, defend. In some activities, and even more in wartime, the best defence is offence." A pause. "I should tell Harry to explain it to you."

"Why?"

"He does it better. He taught in our school, you know?"

"He taught?" Genevieve asked, surprised. After a few thoughtful seconds, she added "Your Headmaster must be barmy."

"You know what?" Hermione asked, her eyes alight with amusement. "That's exactly how he defines himself."

And the girl couldn't hold her laughter at her host's shocked look.

To be continued in next chapter: Hunting Grounds...

That part was long since promised
And I hope nothing was missed.
Soon, you'll see if our hero
Lowers Voldie to zero.