A New Place To Stay

Chapter 36

Conversations, Training, And Friendships

As soon as the Order meeting was done, everyone left, very glad to be out of the room. It was tense and overbearing, and Dumbledore was still furious, even if he didn't display it. They could sense it; he wasn't his usual jubilant self. The biggest giveaway was the fact that Dumbledore was missing his customary twinkle. He had a very good reason to be upset; his plans were unravelling around him, at a very alarming rate. Dumbledore didn't like it when things didn't go as planned or his way. First the Death Eaters had discovered where Harry lived, and he'd had to put him somewhere else. Then the Dursleys disappeared or were captured after leaving the safety of the wards. Then the Ministry attacked Harry at Prince Manor, and the boy didn't use magic to defend himself, risking all his efforts to keep him alive to do his duty. Then he'd fallen out with Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. Granger he didn't care about, but Ronald Weasley he'd planned for Harry to befriend. The child was eager to prove himself to be better than his brothers; it was why he'd never protested going on an adventure to save the school or a family member. He'd been angry when Ronald had left Harry alone in his greatest hour, but grateful when they had made up. Now the prophecy had been stolen, and Voldemort knew; he'd hoped the Dark Lord would never find out. He was already obsessed with killing Harry, without adding the entire contents of the prophecy into it.

"Sirius, has Harry been in touch?" Albus asked the canine Animagus, who was, as always, feeling depressed and very confined. He was sick and tired of being cooped up in a house he hated. He failed to realize that without it, he'd be stuck in Azkaban again. He was ungrateful and childish; he'd never had the chance to grow up. Azkaban wasn't the kind of place one could think to grow up in.

"Yes; he thanked me for his Christmas gifts," Sirius said, eager to talk about his godson, eager to talk to anyone. He knew that pretty soon he'd be stuck in the house by himself, with no one to listen to other than his bloody mother, who enjoyed telling him how much she hated him and was disappointed in him.

"How is he?" asked Dumbledore.

"He's fine; glad to be back at Hogwarts no doubt… I'm surprised he didn't come, though," Sirius replied, a frown marring his forehead. "I mean, Ron and Hermione came, and they've been rather quiet, too."

"Hasn't Harry told you the three of them have fallen out?" Dumbledore asked. So Harry wasn't confiding in his godfather― that had changed. Harry had always confided in his godfather, which was why he kept the Animagus so close. He was always the first to know what was going on. He could keep an eye on and know everything about Harry, without the teenager even knowing.

"What? Why?" Sirius asked surprised, his eyes wide. He was sitting in one of the old chairs that had come with Grimmauld Place when they'd put the Fidelius spell on it. The entire house was falling apart and full of Dark artifacts and all sorts of magical household pests. Most of the pests were gone; Molly had torn into the townhouse, saying that if her children were going to be there, she was at least going to make it safe for them. So the Doxies and Boggarts were gone, as well as some of the more harmful objects lying around. It was obvious to see why Sirius didn't like living there, but anyone would agree it was better than Azkaban. Well, maybe not Sirius Black; the Animagus couldn't wait to get out of there.

"I have no idea; I had hoped you would," Dumbledore said; he had a feeling it was his doing. The argument they'd had in Grimmauld Place came to mind, when he thought that. Surely Harry wouldn't have broken off four years of friendship because Dumbledore had told the teenagers not to get in touch with him.

"No; I had no idea he'd fallen out with them… it makes sense why he didn't come now," Sirius frowned in concern. The three of them had always been close, very close, as he had been with James and Remus. He refused to think about Peter Pettigrew.

"Has Harry had any more dreams lately?" Dumbledore asked, getting onto his main reason for sitting here, speaking to Sirius Black.

"No, nothing like that," Sirius said, shaking his head negatively. "The last one was before he came back." He had been very disturbed reading Harry's letter; he'd gone straight to Dumbledore for advice. He'd replied to Harry as soon as possible, leaving out a lot of what Dumbledore had said to him—which had not been much; Dumbledore wasn't much of a giver. He expected to be told a lot of information, but refused to share much in return.

"Just as he said," Dumbledore quietly muttered; he'd expected him to have more dreams, or visions, as he knew they were. He was seeing out of Voldemort's eyes for a reason: he was connected to him via the Horcrux.

"You spoke to him?" Sirius said hopefully.

"I have indeed," Dumbledore admitted. "I'm sorry, Sirius, but I must get back to Hogwarts; I can't be gone too long." Having gotten what he wanted, he didn't care to remain in this place any longer. It was decrepit and filthy, not somewhere he wanted to spend too much time. Not when he could go back to his very clean, orderly office at Hogwarts.

"All right," Sirius acquiesced sulkily. He hated being stuck here alone; how he wished he could go to Hogwarts and be with and see Harry. Hell, he'd prefer to go to Hagrid's and live as a stray dog.

"Goodbye, Sirius," Dumbledore said, and with that he prepared to Floo out of the building. "Let me know if Harry gets in touch." And before Sirius could reply to that, he was gone.

"Dobby?" Severus called. He was sitting in his living room, glad it was the holidays. He was going to have an early night tonight. Since it wasn't his duty to patrol the halls, and he had no detentions, it was possible. It had been a hell of a day, and he couldn't wait for it to be over. His training plans for Harry had just taken a nosedive; he needed to train him properly. It wasn't just to survive anymore; he was going to have to train him to kill. He wasn't happy about it, but he'd rather Harry survive and kill then die and be a martyr. He had to get Harry to see that there was no light or dark magic; it was the intention behind it. He wasn't sure how Harry felt regarding magic; he'd just have to speak to him about it.

"Yes, sir?" Dobby asked; his eyes were shining with hope and mischief. He loved being called by Severus; he was always asked to do the most mischievous things, mostly to Umbridge.

Severus leant down and whispered something to the house-elf. Dobby's eyes went huge when he heard the orders Severus was giving him. An unsure look entered his eyes; Severus saw it and then whispered something else. A hard look entered Dobby's eyes as if what he'd heard had strengthened his resolve. Nodding his head, the house-elf Apparated out, a scheming look on his face.

"Alright then, tell me what spells you know, not what we learned in Defence," Harry demanded as they entered the Room Of Requirement. It was a huge training arena with plenty of padding around it, to stop themselves from being hurt too badly. Harry didn't want to have to explain why one of them was hurt to Madam Pomfrey.

"Not much; I've only read a few chapters into the book," Neville confessed guiltily.

"Disarming charm?" Harry asked; that was one of the first spells described.

Neville nodded his head yes; he'd learned that one on his own, but he obviously hadn't practised it. "I've learned the basics of it, but I've not performed it yet."

"I've done the same," Luna said.

"All right. Neville, give me your best," Harry said, moving to stand five feet from Neville. Luna stepped to the side, watching them with her mysterious blue eyes. Sometimes when she looked at him, he thought she had a look of surprise on her face. It was her natural look, Harry realized, and he didn't think any less of her for it. He also noticed her corkscrew necklace with interest.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked, standing and facing Harry, looking quite alarmed.

"Disarm me," Harry said. "What did you think we would be doing?" he asked, staring at Neville curiously.

"Okay," Neville replied, looking a tiny bit flustered; this wasn't what he was expecting. He'd expected Harry to show him spells, not have Neville perform them on him! It explained the mats and blue walls ... they'd stop anyone from being hurt. Most probably him; he wasn't anywhere near Harry's level. "Expelliarmus!" Neville cried, aiming for Harry's wand.

Harry held onto his wand, gripping it tightly, but it went flying; he couldn't deny he was very surprised. Neville was either more powerful than he let on, or he had been paying attention to the instructions on the spell.

"Well done," Harry praised, unable to keep how impressed he was to himself. "But don't think just because I was disarmed that I'm defeated," he finished. With that he swung his legs out and Neville found himself staring at the ceiling of the room. His body exploded in shock, he hadn't expected Harry to do that.

"Duly noted," Neville said to Harry, who was standing above him looking amused. Adrenaline spiked through him, and he flushed in embarrassment when Luna giggled at them. "Why did you do that?" he asked when he got up.

"Don't you know how to fight?" Harry asked, looking at Neville oddly.

Neville didn't reply; he just stared at Harry as if he had lost his mind.

"What do you do when you've been disarmed?" Harry eventually asked, his voice full of exasperation.

"Run?" Neville ventured, staring at Luna for help; he wasn't sure what Harry was getting at

"Oh, for God's sake," muttered Harry, "No; you take down your opponent by fighting, then get your wand and stun them! Just because you've lost your wand doesn't mean the fight is over!" Harry loudly exclaimed, his voice full of passion.

"Er, okay," Neville squeaked. His eyes were huge, and he stared at Harry as if he'd never seen him before. "Is that how you got away from You-Know-Who?"

Harry wanted to let out a biting retort, but thought better of it. Remembering Severus' tale about the last war sobered him up. He truly couldn't blame people for preferring to use that name as opposed to his real one. He'd been through too much to be scared of a name; it didn't mean everyone else had. "No," replied Harry, not elaborating.

"So you are going to teach us Muggle fighting?" Luna asked, sounding impressed.

"If you want," Harry replied, feeling awkward now; there was way too much talking going on.

"Cool," Luna said, grinning widely.

"What about spells?" Neville asked, wanting to pout.

"We will be doing both," Harry declared firmly.

"Okay," Neville nodded in agreement.

So they began. Harry asked the room for a dummy, and told Neville about blasting curses. "The best one to use would be Confringo, it's one of the more powerful ones," Harry explained. "There are no wand movements, just put as much magic into it as you can. Test it on the dummies."

Neville nodded in agreement.

"Luna, stand over there, we are going to try the disarming spell," he said, very businesslike.

Soon the room was filled with "Confringos" and "Expelliarmuses." Once Harry was sure she had the disarming spell down, he told her to do what Neville was doing, the Confringo spell. Harry was using his new wand, and it was so much better than his old one. The spells came more easily, or at least it felt that way. It was odd; it was how his phoenix wand had felt when he'd first got it. Comparing them both today, he realized the sphinx hair imbued in phoenix tears was so much better. He wondered what it meant, was he just more powerful now than he had been at the age of eleven?

"So why Muggle fighting?" Neville asked once they'd stopped destroying dummies with the blasting curse, and learning basic punching techniques using punching bags.

"Other than to save your life? Punching one in the nose would stop them from being able to say spells; punching them much further south would leave you enough time to get your wand back and finish them," Harry stated.

"I've never thought of that… why has it never been suggested before?" Neville asked curiously. He was sweating buckets, breathing heavily but feeling very satisfied with himself.

"Because wizards think themselves invincible because they can suddenly do magic," Harry answered, shrugging his shoulders. He knew what it was like to feel defenceless, without a wand, then with one! He knew nothing, though, compared to Riddle's forty years of magic training. From what he had seen and been told of Voldemort, he only used three spells regularly, the Imperius curse, the killing curse, and his favourite, the Cruciatus curse. Did he really have a lot of magical knowledge? Or did it just seem that way because of his age? To him it felt as though Voldemort was more preoccupied on being immortal, not with learning everything magical. Although he wasn't going to assume anything, because as the saying went, assuming made an ass out of "you and me."

"Good point," Luna remarked, smiling at Harry in that vague sort of way she usually did.

"Why do you run every morning?" Neville asked, sitting on the mat and wincing slightly; his hands were really quite sore now from the punching bag.

"How do you know about that?" he asked in surprise; he hadn't realized anyone knew he ran in the morning other than Severus.

"Noticed your bed empty, some time before Christmas, when I was on the way to the toilet. I looked out― saw you running around the Quidditch pitch," Neville admitted, a little sheepish at Harry's being so surprised. It made him feel as if he'd been caught snooping, not observing.

"Oh," Harry's mind was racing; he needed to tell a plausible lie, so he went with one that wouldn't be questioned too much. "I started running when I got back to Hogwarts; not playing Quidditch, I needed a way to let off some steam." His face was honest and sincere. As much as Harry liked Neville, his mind was an open book; so was Luna's. He wasn't about to put them in danger, or Severus either by confiding in them.

"Can I join you?" Neville asked out of the blue, startling Harry; he hadn't been expecting that. "What?" he asked, blinking in shock as he faced Neville. He didn't mean to be nasty to his friend, really he didn't, but that was the last thing he'd expected to hear.

Neville flushed in humiliation and embarrassment; he seemed to know what was going through Harry's mind. Then his shoulders stiffened and he stared Harry straight in the eye and repeated, "Can I join you?" He said it clearly, enunciating each word.

"Um… sure… no problem," Harry replied, still slightly dazed.

"Thanks," Neville said, grateful that he hadn't been immediately shot down.

"Let's go," Harry said, "I'm tired." It was true; he was, but he wasn't going to his bed to sleep. He was going to read some of the journal, and some of the books on animals and familiars. He so desperately wanted to keep Zar; he missed him every time he had to drop him off in Severus' quarters. It would kill him to put Balthazar down in the Chamber; Zar himself didn't even like the chamber. So he was determined to come up with something, anything to keep him.

Thanks to Jake and Jordre for their dedication in editing this story :)