Chapter 4: Preparing for The First Task and the Lovegood Problem
A/N: Randomly…. Mad, bad and dangerous to know…. gotta love Lord Byron people. Also, the next chapter (I think) is longer and may take a moment to type up.
The two weeks leading up to the First Task were hectic, to say the least, for the new couple.
Harry, for his part, was training as much as he could in anything that he, Hermione or Ravenclaw thought might be useful. This took on far more importance to him when, as soon as they crossed the wards, Rowena had informed Harry of the four dragons now on the grounds of the school.
Though he did train for many different scenarios that the First Task could consist of he spent much of his time trying to recover James's skillset.
He couldn't be certain of what the task was because the only ones that would know wouldn't talk about it inside the school. Outside and on the grounds, Rowena was aware of the dragons and their human handlers but she couldn't get clear 'eyes' on them or their eggs.
As they were focusing solely on the practical rather than the theory (where they could) Harry was improving in leaps and bounds. It helped that Harry's affinity for those skills meant that it usually took him under five minutes to perform a basic spell and less than fifteen for a complex one if it came from James's skillset.
Added to that, Ravenclaw and Hermione had been spending most of their time trying to critique and improve the weaknesses inherited from James. They often searched for spells to complement or counter a perceived shortcoming.
This, however, was at a slower rate as Harry still had to learn those skills at a relatively normal, if accelerated because it was just the two of them, rate.
In fact, the skill of his father's that was causing him the most frustration was the Animagus Transformation. Despite the Marauders (excepting Pettigrew) being prodigies that took two full years to get the change right Harry was annoyed that it wasn't coming easily to him.
Hermione and Ravenclaw both assured him that his progress was nothing short of astounding in the short time that he had been trying to learn it. Still, he couldn't shake the irritation that he felt.
Where he had hoped to have the transformation down by now, all he could do at present was sprout a pair of very light and feathered grey wings that had a thick line of black ones on the outer edges. Still, despite how he felt, he persisted.
This was partially because both women and the books he had read on the subject hinted at unspecified benefits when you merged with the representation of your animal self. It was also because he was Harry Potter, meaning that he was at his core a very stubborn bastard when he put his mind to something and it was also to honour the memory of both James Potters as well as feel closer to Sirius.
Harry tried not to dwell on his frustration though as he knew that this very feeling could be harming the process. He also tried not to voice it because, as it turned out, Hermione couldn't become one and (despite everything) after seeing McGonagall turn into a cat one of her dreams was to become one. The sheer sadness and little bit of heartbreak on her face when Rowena informed her she couldn't do it or that it was asleep and might awaken later in life, was still clear in Harry's mind.
His theoretical work, such as it was, was abysmal in contrast and he had decided early on that this was the price that he had to pay. He knew that it could be brought up to speed at some point when he wasn't fighting for his life.
After all, he could only avoid the teachers and the other students for so long before someone or something managed to find a way around his manoeuvre and forced the issue. He figured that catching up on your theoretical schoolwork and researching for the Second Task would provide both an excuse for his 'sullen temper tantrum' to end give others (such as Dumbledore and Snape) the illusion that he was settling down.
That didn't stop them from having emergency go-bags packed and waiting with an anxious Dobby always waiting for the call to move. It was easy enough for the elf to sort out as, while they were using the room, he was free to leave it and he was always ready to pop almost anywhere at a moments notice or simple request.
His practice area had evolved as well. As his skills increased, so too did its complexity and aside from the times that he was practising static magic, like runes or potions the messy bric-a-brac had been removed.
It had been replaced by something that Harry honestly thought of (on his worse days) as Hell on Earth and that had been politely described by all three on the better days simply as the Gauntlet.
It was a constantly shifting madhouse of peril. It showed the true versatility of the Room as compared to other parts of the school and the mad, bad and dangerous mind of the entity that controlled it. It attacked him the minute that he crossed a theoretical line in his flat and did so in ways that he rarely could anticipate, though he probably would eventually.
Harry and Hermione, whether they wanted to or not, had become exceptionally good at first aid spells and potions.
When they had asked the Room why it didn't help them to heal, she had merely smiled mysteriously and simply pointed out that this was another form of teaching before beginning their personal Hell once again.
Hermione, when she wasn't helping with Harry, was focusing more on her actual schoolwork than he was. Like her boyfriend though she really was flourishing inside the Room of requirements and the more intimate style of learning, although, in her case, it was purely her great intellect that that allowed her to steam ahead so quickly. She was already near the end of the year, curriculum wise.
Granted, a large part of that was simply her being who she always was. It was well known that she read ahead as often as she could and had been doing so ever since she had first learned of magic as a real thing, well before she had been introduced to the Room. Being touted by Ravenclaw merely kicked this fact into overdrive.
She still found the time, as little as they ended up having anyway, to help Harry grapple with the question of what was next and so, right near the beginning of their two weeks of intensive learning together, both she and Harry had asked Ravenclaw about the Ritual of Guidance as well as rituals in general.
-HPCOD-
"Why" she had asked as all three sat in the lounge area during a small break and the two humans snacking on some high protein food, "do more people not use rituals?"
"There is no simple answer to that question," Ravenclaw answered her, "but I can give you the most likely answers that I have gleaned from the minds that have passed through these halls over the years, if you wish."
"Please," said Harry "it might help us both get more comfortable with them, and rituals in general, if we understood more about them. They are not taught in Hogwarts after all."
"Not in generations and with very good reason but, to understand why first you have to understand that the exact nature of rituals are as varied in power and compatibility as magic itself. This… fluctuation… in usefulness is often dependant on your innate magical power, the age range at which you do them, their interaction with any others that you have done, the time between each one if you do more than one and where you do them. Just because you want to do say seven rituals, that does not mean your mind or body can handle them."
"Is there any way to know how many you can take before there are problems?" Hermione asked.
"Surprisingly few, though that is more of a mindset issue than anything else. It doesn't help that the consequences vary and are defined by their overall interaction with each other, the age of the ritual...whether it is Ancient or not… whether it is Lesser or Greater and the intent of the caster."
"Ancient or not? Greater or Lesser? Are there any examples of successes and failures so we can at least get an idea?" Harry added his viewpoint to the conversation.
"In short, Ancient rituals require little to no components or vocalisations in comparison to their later counterparts but, the caster's willpower cannot waver and the power of the location is far more relevant to success. The later rituals were created because far too many died when they went wrong. The trade-off for that was complex incantations that had to be recited perfectly, very specific ingredients but a lessened chance of death."
Her bland voice, when discussing the possibility of death, made the two pause in thought and she allowed them several moments to absorb what she was telling them. "The difference between Greater and Lesser are less… defined in what sets them apart. As a general rule Greater Rituals cost you more personally for their effects, take more of the ritual 'space' inside your body and mind and tend to lean towards fundamental changes. Lesser Rituals, on the other hand, are easier and you can have more for the 'space' but generally only enhance what is already there."
"Examples please?" Hermione prodded, her analytical mind digesting what Ravenclaw was saying faster than Harry could.
"The lasting success stories are either state secrets, hidden or very well known as the could be no playing them off for large amounts of time as anything other than what they are. The known ones include the creation of the Veela and that of the Centaurs. Though the rituals that created them are no longer known the costs are obvious if you study them for any length of time."
"The most famous failure is a constant reminder of the perils of the deeper currents of magic. Thankfully both the ritual itself and why it was attempted have been lost to time long before I was 'born' and, if Merlin knew, he never spoke of it or shared it with anyone. I speak, of course, of the creation of the House-elves."
"Seriously?" Hermione gasped. "They were people, free-willed people, at some point?"
Rowena nodded, knowing Hermione well enough to understand her outrage at the idea that not only could that happen but that, instead of helping them, someone took advantage of their predicament and that would not, could not, change any time soon.
"Yes. So one reason is the clear and present danger, however unknown it might be, another in the cost and the fact that you can't simply repeat the ritual until you get what you want. With any ritual, once it is done, it is done and barely any can be repeated. There are other reasons though…"
"Voldemort has done rituals though hasn't he?" Harry interrupted.
"Yes. when he was last in these walls he had done at least four Greater and two Lesser Rituals though there is no way to tell if they were Ancient or not, nor exactly what they were. To do that would have required a much more thorough scan than I had time for."
"And not exactly germane to this discussion at the moment" added Hermione.
"Germane?" Harry asked teasingly, playing dumb with a smile for her.
"Hush. I'll explain the nasty big word later," Hermione responded, playing along and smiling too.
"Yes dear," he joked. Then he turned back to Ravenclaw "We've used rituals before, to clear our systems and we will use the Guidance Ritual soon, won't that affect us?"
"No, permanence is the key. The type that you have used is one of a few that are temporary and have an immediate effect that ends. The cost of that, and the guidance ritual is that their effects cannot be permanent and they cannot be used if you have used any permanent rituals. Think of them, for this discussion, as much earlier and more malleable spells. They were eventually replaced by spells because they were quicker and used far less magic for average problems."
"But, that's stupid" argued Harry.
"Not really. Yes, it might take anywhere between five and fifteen spells or potions to get the same effect as the cleansing that you both went through but, anyone could use them with little to no risk and the healer would be far less drained enabling them to treat more people."
"Still that can't be everything," argued Hermione "there must be something else?"
"The other main reasons are the mindset of wizards when it comes to 'modern' magic". Ravenclaw saw the confused look of her charges and so continued. "Roughly speaking the ideological landscape of Wizarding Britain has been separated into three camps, the seeds of which started with the Statute of Secrecy but took up to fifty years after that to be fully realised. They are the Light, the Grey (traditionally the largest group, though not at the moment) and the Dark. At the time of their inception, the Light wished to hide us much more than we had already, the Grey wanted to maintain the new status quo and the Dark wanted something truly foolish."
"What?" Harry questioned.
"War with the muggles, forgetting entirely that we had tried already but that we could not face their numbers and survive then, let alone now and wanting to subjugate them."
"Do they still want that or have their goals changed?"
"Everything evolves, given time. The Light now wishes to absorb muggle ideas, some even want to go further and replace wizarding traditions with them. The Grey admits that society must evolve but wants to take as little of the new as possible and be able to remain hidden from the muggles. The Dark, if anything, has become more obsessed with the idea that wizards are the apex of evolution they see no reason to change what they are and only wish to place themselves above everything else, with the pure-bloods leading the charge."
"And this relates to rituals because?" Hermione asked.
"Rituals are, at their core, asking magic for a service and offering a form of payment for that service. All magic is like this in a sense except, with spells, you pay for the effect by using the magic in your own core. The Light knows this and are uncomfortable with the idea that magic can... in a sense… have a mind and a will. They would also prefer magic that acted more like mathematics, one plus one equals two rather than one equals whatever is needed at that moment, and if they had their way all magic would be easy separated into Light and Dark, used and not used. Rituals are never that simple. Turning to the Dark, they hate it, it flies in the face of what they choose to believe, that magic is a tool only they have the right to use. Rituals are more symbolic than most magic, more ancient and it is impossible not to be confronted with this truth if you use or study them for any length of time."
"Is magic as a whole aware like an animal is aware, or a human….or more?" Harry asked, even as he could see Hermione getting lost in the possibilities this new information presented.
"We are all creatures of magic" was the unhelpful response. "The Grey accept the idea that magic is aware and treat it as fact. But, they are also aware of the inherent dangers of rituals as it is essentially confronting it without a medium to stand between them, like your magical core. Added to that, they know that if a powerful ritual were to go wrong, you could conceivably turn the most virtuous to the darkest villain or shatter the Statue from existence in the worst way possible."
She paused and then added, somewhat sadly, "All political spectrums then have their own reasons for wanted to suppress, ban or even remove rituals from the knowledge of wizards and they rarely perform any of them in this modern age."
"So what is Voldemort? What am I?" Harry wondered aloud.
"Exceptions to the rule" stated Ravenclaw.
-HPCOD-
Still, it wasn't all discussions on the theories of magic or training for the two and that fact had led to two very good things as well as one bad one.
The first (and in Harry's private opinion by far the best) thing that happened was that Hermione's bedroom was no longer in use. They were not having sex of any sort, they both understood that they weren't ready for that despite their biological urges, but after the effects of the potions were clear from both of their systems things had changed. Hermione had managed to prove to Harry that her feelings for him hadn't been altered even if the almost overpowering need to rush things had.
She had done this by marshalling her Gryffindor courage and stripping nude in front of him one evening. Then, in a beautifully direct fashion, she had firmly declared that she was going to bed. She then walked, in a very eye-catching way, to his bed and climbed in.
Though they only slept together (granted their hands may have wondered a bit but they were teenagers after all) laying naked with his girlfriend in a bed that they shared and having that feeling of closeness made Harry the most contented that he had ever been, even if it did make it hard to fall asleep at first.
The memory of her standing there in front of him, her face flushed half in desire and half in the fear of his rejection and her own embarrassment, would remain one of his fondest and most visceral memories for the rest of his days.
The second good thing was that they now made a point to visit those that had stood with them. Visiting Susan required them to find an empty classroom anyway as Harry had already had a gut full of Hufflepuffs in general and would be very happy to not see a glimpse of the badgers for at least the rest of the year.
So they had found a classroom, not used in at least a decade or two by the dust on the floor, and with the application of their burgeoning skills turned it into a passable Common Room.
Unlike an actual one, this room did not venerate a founder, there were no colours in it that could be directly associated with one house over another. There were comfortable chairs, a roaring fireplace filled with a false flame, a deep and comfortable set of sofas, a wood effect floor that warmed your feet and several low tables to hold food and drink.
It had seemed silly to them, if they were going to make one anyway, that they would make it so that everyone could visit each other there when they wished. In short order, that is exactly what everyone did regardless of whether Harry and Hermione were actually there or not.
Besides which, as it was on the fifth floor, it took attention away from the seventh which was a nice side benefit for the couple.
House loyalties were laid to rest at the door and were beginning to be forgotten regardless, after the deep faults in it that Harry and Hermione had begun to expose and the friends, both new and old, started to get to know each other...some for the first time. This was helped by the fact that Susan had apologised to Harry the very next time that she had seen him and in front of everyone as well.
Harry was honest enough with himself to understand that all was not suddenly better but, he did give her credit for doing it and doing it in front of many other people, not because he asked but more because she thought it was the right thing to do.
If there was to be a friendship of any kind between them though, it had to start somewhere and the lengths that she was willing to go to without any expectation of him would certainly help it along.
The last time that she had come to their Common Room she had brought her friend Hannah Abbott into the fold. Harry hadn't really spent any time with her before, neither had Hermione, but she was an old friend of Neville's as well as Susan's. She had also apologised to him, though not as publicly, and as she was a friend of Neville's they were both withholding judgement for now.
Late one evening, near the end of the two weeks before the First Task, Harry decided to relax his exhausted mind while Hermione poured over a new book that the Room supplied and relaxed on their bed. He felt restless and so went for a walk.
That was why Harry found his feet moving towards the Common Room without thought near curfew.
As he did so, Dobby popped in mid-stride as he moved towards his destination under the watchful gaze of the portraits. He was not fooled by their kind and pained eyes because, as much as they answered to Hogwarts, they also answered to Dumbledore.
Knowing that, those eyes felt like ants crawling on his skin whenever he moved about the castle and especially late at night when it felt like the only thing each and every one of them focused only on him. He brushed the feeling aside, trusting in his slowly growing emotional control (thanks to Occlumency) and his improved memory to both appear relaxed and see more of their watchful gazes.
"Dobby" Harry greeted the almost bouncing creature quietly.
"Master Harry Potter sir" the elf replied. Even as he spoke he ignored his master's reflexive wince at the title with practised ease.
"How is she?"
"Her mighty owlness is… displeased." If Harry didn't know any better Harry would have sworn that he saw a fear deeper than anything he had ever come across, move over Dobby's features like the shadow of a great monster as he spoke.
"Make sure she has enough exercise and treats," Harry asked and Dobby nodded his head rapidly as if it was a holy duty, which given Hedwig's mood it might as well be. "Apologise to her for me. You know the reason that I'm not sending her out… try and explain that to her please."
If anyone was watching him (which of course they were) he hoped that they thought he was talking about the Tournament and not the justified fear that Hedwig was too distinctive and there were many ways a single out could be diverted or captured. Both of them knew that the Headmaster, the real man and not his mask, would easily stoop to that level. In the process of doing that Hedwig would likely get hurt.
He didn't doubt his familiar's devotion, far from it, and he knew that if that likely event happened then Hedwig would fight. Sadly, she was an owl and Dumbledore was a wizard with decades of experience. That devotion could get her killed and it was something that he was determined to prevent.
Before he could get the relaxation that he wanted he was stopped by a fast-approaching Professor McGonagall and, even as Dobby saw her first and popped away quietly before he could be noticed, the other reason he avoided interacting with the people in Hogwarts became readily apparent.
He was vulnerable and easy to track… at least for the moment.
"Mr Potter," she called out in a slightly cold voice "the Headmaster would like to speak with you. I have been sent to take you to him."
"Of course he does and of course, you have" Harry responded in a mildly judgmental tone.
From the tightening of the skin around her eyes, he would have been able to tell that she was upset with him, even if the disappointed slant to her mouth wasn't a dead giveaway.
'You have no comprehension,' he thought 'of how disappointed I find myself in you, you sad old woman'.
-HPCOD-
When he entered, before he did anything else, Harry tightened his mental shields as much as he was able.
It was far easier than it would have been for him to do when he had first started. Though by no means a master of the art yer (like both Dumbledore and Snape clearly were) he could now keep out passive intrusions. If he did have wanded legilimency used against him then Rowena had declared that his shields were strong enough to hold out, long enough to call Dobby at least.
He had never seen his friend truly enraged before, annoyed, angry even but never enraged.
He found himself ambivalent over the prospect as he really didn't want to have Dumbledore in his mind... ever. That being said, the mental image of what an enraged Dobby would do to Dumbledore had him (or at least a small and petty piece of him) wishing that he would try.
'Still... there is no need to take silly chances, even if I would dearly love to see that.'
"Harry," Dumbledore said gravely. For a moment their eyes met and his famous twinkle brightened.
A pressure barrelled towards his mind and smashed into it for a second. Harry marvelled at the strength of it even as his shields deflected the attack, if only barely, and then the twinkle was back in his eyes only slightly dimmed. Harry's own eyes darkened in anger at the attack.
"That was rude," Harry chided him, as if he was talking to an errant child and not to someone who knew full well they were breaking International Law, even if Harry could never press charges and hope to win. "What was so important to you?"
He glanced around the office as Fawkes, the embodiment of magic that he was, simply crooned softly. It sounded like an apology to Harry as his eyes skittered over the bird unimpressed and, in one corner near the desk McGonagall sat down stilly and in another the brooding shadow of Snape stood and glowered.
"I just wanted to understand your sudden growth spurt Harry and I thought this would also be a good way to test your progress," Dumbledore spoke as if Harry was the one being unreasonable and even managed to sound wounded that he had pointed it out.
"Hermione mentioned something rare, a kind of rapid growth that happens to magicals sometimes," he shrugged "that must be it. But still, you invaded my mind without permission Albus." The last sentence was spat at the old man, like a volley across the bow.
'I have no doubt the students are interested too, but they never barrelled into my mind. Then again, they saw what I did to Malfoy, so they will probably get around to annoying me with questions when that memory fades a bit.'
Rapid magical growth was a rare phenomenon but it was not unheard of and barely understood.
What was known, aside from the fact that magicals aged more slowly due to the power inside them and that it sometimes caused a shift in height or weight for no reason before puberty was finished. There were theories that it was so rare due to it only affecting the most powerful of their kind but that's all they were.
"Mr Potter!" McGonagall growled, "Show the Headmaster respect."
"When he stops breaking International Law," Harry's voice was the epitome of geniality once again. "I might listen to you… but probably not."
To that, she visibly baulked and blinked owlishly, as if that fact and his obvious distrust of her, hadn't even entered her mind. As she did so Snape opened his mouth, doubtless to say something cruel and petty but with a sharp look from Dumbledore, he quieted down.
"I confess, that particular law escaped my mind for a moment, alas in my advanced age that sometimes happens." Harry didn't believe what Dumbledore said for a second, but allowed none of his deep-rooted scepticism to show on his face. "But neither your new height nor your shields are the main reason I called you here."
"Then, can you please get to the point? I am a growing boy after all and you might as well start with why these two are here to gang up on me. Simple answers too, I'm very tired."
Harry saw Snape's face light up with a look of glee and headed off a comment. "Yes, yes, no doubt you are about to say something inane like 'I need simple answers because I'm a dunderhead just like my father' but let's skip that shall we and just say you did. I'll just ignore it anyway so there really is no point."
"Harry," Dumbledore began, neatly heading off Snape's mounting displeasure, "I was unaware that you are acquainted with Amelia Bones."
"What makes you assume I'm acquainted with Madam Bones Headmaster?" Harry asked, putting a puzzled expression on his features, and Snape found that he could hold his tongue no longer.
"Who else would have told you about International Law you idiotic brat?" Snape spat, literally spraying him with spittle, in his anger.
"Use a brain cell… if you have one Professor. I have been illegally placed into a tournament that risks my life, why wouldn't I check International Law? Besides which I can count at least twenty seven members heirs who would know the law as it is one of our oldest. The better question would be why didn't I know it before now?"
"Are you acquainted with Madam Bones Harry?" Dumbledore asked both sharply and directly.
"Do you count a thirty-second conversation as acquainted? Harry countered. "Don't think I didn't notice that you haven't answered any of my questions, especially why these esteemed professors are here."
Using the brief pause that the shock of his question caused, he discreetly palmed his wand and hid it with his palm and the back of his wrist.
'Not that I like my chances if it comes to a direct confrontation now. McGonagall alone maybe simply out of surprise, Snape probably as he is an arrogant bastard who likes to grandstand, not Dumbledore though, even without his backup I'd be screwed. With them, I'd be down and out before I could even think about a spell.'
"Minerva is your Head of House…"
"Not anymore. I'm no longer a Gryffindor remember?"
"Professor Snape." Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, giving no weight to Harry's concerns. He attacked, once again, as if Harry was merely whining like a child and he was merely an indulgent Grandfather. "He has sacrificed much for the good of wizardkind and both have my complete trust."
"So, should I send for someone I trust then?" Even as the two teachers began to protest Dumbledore sighed, as if Harry was putting him through a great trial.
The man reasoned that the potions that enhanced Harry's trust were weakening due to the boy's paranoia against the hostility of the school, especially the students, and he reasoned that he could fix that issue once the Triwizard Tournament was done.
Unfortunately, to his mind, there was little that he could do about it now, not until both the public and the D.M.L.E. calmed down at least. He was still the former lover of Grindelwald and, though he didn't have the same level of skill at unsavoury acts as he once had, he was not without options.
"How can you even say that Mr Potter? How can you not trust me?" McGonagall spoke into the heavy silence as Dumbledore ran through his thoughts and gathered himself.
"When have you ever given me a reason to?" He shot back and though that knocked her back for a moment it also served to galvanise Snape into action.
"Why you ungrateful little bas-"
Harry's wand moved up in a grateful arc and he quietly said a spell with a speed that surprised everyone else in the room.
Snape flew, fast and hard across the headmaster's desk even as the man's wand landed in Harry's other hand. Even as the others moved their hands to their wands, Snape crumpled to the floor, stunned.
When Harry turned his attention back to the other two he found their wands pointed directly at him. He stared back at them, not raising his wand, seemingly unafraid of a seasoned teacher and the defeater of a notorious Dark Lord.
"You know…" Harry began, allowing a sliver of weakness in his mental shields so the sincerity of his next words bled out from every pore of him, "I swore an oath not too long ago and I'm fully prepared to take another declaring that I will never return to Hogwarts again if that's what it takes."
"What do you want Harry?" Dumbledore asked, truly terrified at the possibility and abandoning his immediate plans. While he asked that McGonagall was mute with horror over what had just been said. Both lowered their wands as they realised there was no danger for the moment.
"To get through the Tournament. If I don't do anything I won't survive and this is not helping."
"We are merely worried about you Harry" Dumbledore began, unaware that Harry's senses were fine-tuned enough (at least if he focused) that he could feel the magic and therefore the lie in the man's words. "It does you no good to isolate yourself. Gryffindor misses you, your friends miss you, can't you see that?"
"I'll tell you what Headmaster. If I'm left alone by the staff for the duration of the Tournament I will happily have a conversation with you when it is over and you can try and sort this all out."
"What are you doing Mr Potter?" The judgemental voice of Mcgonagall was positively scandalised.
"Bartering."
Dumbledore grabbed on to that lifeline as the absolute worst case for him was Harry leaving Hogwarts (and denying his easy access) forever. Nothing, not even the many as yet unasked questions that he had for him, were worth that.
"I have your word then?" Dumbledore pressed.
"I swear on my life and magic," said Harry slowly raising his wand and being very careful as to where he pointed it, "that at the conclusion of the Third Task being finished… or a few days after it I will spare you a word or two. I'm sure we can both speak more then."
With a nod, Dumbledore signalled his wordless agreement and magic rippled as the oath was sealed. It was only after that, that everyone (awake at least) lowered their wands.
"Thank you, for your trust in me Harry. You may go as I'm certain that we can get everything sorted out then."
Harry left, but only after placing Snape's wand gently on the desk, under the watchful eyes of two people and one magical bird.
"Are you really going to let him, a young student in your care, to get away with how he acted Albus?" McGonagall asked, still in shock and wondering why Albus had allowed this to happen as she was sure that he could have stopped it if he wanted to.
"A short term defeat for a long term victory my dear…" Dumbledore replied soothing her "besides he is protected by the Tournament, for now, all of the Champions as are the Judges. He also made good points, in some small cases, did he not?"
She had no answer to that.
-HPCOD-
Dumbledore sat alone in his office and questioned everything he thought he knew. He wasn't just questioning recent events (though they were the catalyst for his moment of crisis) but, also everything all the way back to the prophecy itself.
With a wave of his wand, the wall that carried most of his knick-knacks faded away and a portrait shimmered into existence. It happened slowly, at first the outline of the frame and then the little detail of its outermost edges before speeding up and spreading inward.
Blooming colour followed and soo every inch of that canvas was like a dagger to his soul and the youthful face, so full of promise, still haunted his dreams to this day.
She never spoke to him, she never said anything to anyone (though he knew that she could) and was a reminder of a life never lived. He knew the soft line of her jaw so well that it might as well have been burned into the back of his eyelids and the memories that it brought were an agonising pleasure to him, as he knew that they would always be.
Still, he couldn't help but look, in some sort of pained hope, believing that today might be the first day that she would speak to him. He was her brother and had always, despite what he may have said or done when she was alive, loved her and cherished who she was.
The beautifully tragic and judgemental face of fourteen-year-old Ariana Dumbledore stared coldly at him as he yearned for her to do anything but that.
"Am I doing the right thing?" Dumbledore asked the silent countenance of his sister, even as Fawkes watched the man bare his soul to the imprint of his sister with inscrutable eyes.
As she refused to speak he reminded himself that these moments of deep introspection were not just about soothing him, they were a rare necessity. It wasn't just that he was a busy man (although that was true enough), it wasn't just about getting lost in his memories and what he wished could have been nor the fact that into led him to a dark and thoughtful mood that was too close to depression for comfort.
What it was about was a constant reminder. It reminded him of all that he had sacrificed, all that he might have to still sacrifice, of the rift in his family and (shamefully most of all) his one and only love Gellert Grindelwald.
Even now the memories of that man caused a wave of remembered passion to flame in his mind, only to be perversely balanced by the shame and disgust over what he had become. The guilt of what they had lost, what their actions had cost both of them, was never far from his mind nor was the joy that they had begun with.
He knew that no matter his… morally grey decisions… he was no Dark Lord no matter how much others had disagreed. He had seen two of them (and heard of far more) by this point in his life and he felt himself far from the monsters that they had become. He was lacking, as far as he was concerned, a key thing to becoming like them. To whit, he didn't do what he did for personal power or for base motives.
If he had then he would have sought the power of the Minister's Office with gusto and, given his reputation, gained it in short order. He would have attuned the shunts that he had placed on Harry Potter to him rather than Hogwarts itself. He sought to protect everyone and not just himself, that was why he had grudgingly accepted the positions that he had and the power was merely a means to an end, not an end in and of itself.
That is what made Dumbledore truly dangerous, he actually believed that.
He had almost literally fallen into the positions that he had gained, so fast were they shoved into his lap after World War Two and later, once he had realised the Neville Longbottom was not (in all likelihood) the child of prophecy he hadn't got rid of the bindings on the boy and instead merely changed their nature. The power that he could wield one day was viewed by Dumbledore to be too much of a temptation, so he had locked most of it away.
It all came down to power and the desire for more of it. Voldemort wanted power for power's sake, to turn the world into whatever whim took his fancy and lord over it as a living god. Dumbledore found it ironic that Voldemort sought power like a rabid animal while he avoided it, but they both ended up with it anyway.
Gellert didn't have to fight for power, he was no stranger to it at all as he was the heir of a pure-blood line as well as being naturally powerful. He also had access to everything that implied, including his families Grimoire.
What he didn't have and what he sought was the power and (more importantly the control) to fight an entire system that put magic into boxes and marginalised it. That was the cause that started him off, that and the power to be free and to love who (or rather the gender) he wanted without anyone batting an eye.
He was officially expelled for pushing the boundaries of magic beyond what was safe or what Durmstrang was comfortable allowing but, like anything official, it was far from the full story.
Power seduces though and even someone that Dumbledore privately viewed as perfect, became instead the perfect Dark Lord. Unlike anyone else that Dumbledore had met his former lover was a Seer. The closest he had seen was Sybil Trelawney who was only an Oracle, but he was far more than her. He was persuasive, more so than Voldemort before his disfigurement or even himself, and respected magic above all.
'How far he fell' Dumbledore thought. 'I am not him though, I know the pitfalls...I have seen them.'
"I have good reasons for what I do, I don't do them because I like them" Dumbledore pleaded with the silent portrait. "I am not like them."
Thinking of the powerhouses that were Grindelwald and Voldemort led him to think more about the future power that was Harry Potter.
He was the first person that, theoretically at least, given time would be as magically powerful as the three of them. That was why he had placed limiters on Harry and he would remove them, however briefly, so that Harry could defeat Voldemort and then he would end the threat of Dark Lords rising for a few generations at least.
He was as driven as any of them too, though Dumbledore hadn't seen the true depths of that until recently, but where the others (himself included he reluctantly acknowledged as he was focused on preserving bloodlines and as many lives as he could) were focused on external ideas Harry's focus seemed to be turned inward.
From the small amount of useful surveillance that he could gather this year, since the Goblet of Fire incident, Harry had put aside childish endeavours and replaced such distractions with an implacable will and surety that he hadn't developed until much later in life.
Under other circumstances, he would have been pleased by this development, proud even to watch him grow into a fine addition to the Potter bloodline. He was sure that he would have helped guide him and, perhaps, even take him as an apprentice as Nicholas had once done for him.
He knew that wasn't possible due to the twin factors of both the Horcrux in his head and the prophecy moving fate along its course.
"That's what it all comes down to, isn't it? That's why I have to do this. Fate cannot be ignored and, because of that, all of this can only end one way… Harry must face Voldemort and both must die thanks to that foul thing in his scar."
Even as he spoke his thoughts aloud his eyes refocused on the portrait of his sister. His bright blue eyes were no longer pleading for understanding, nor were they the kind mask that he usually showed the world. Now, when they looked out on the world they were hard and unyielding, but with a trace of infinite sadness in them.
"No" he declared. "I am not evil. What I do, I do because of the Greater Good and because it is necessary. No matter how much it pains me Voldemort cannot die if Harry Potter lives. The prophecy is simple and clear, it is my burden to carry him down the path that he must take. Guilt is a small price to pay to both save my world and fight a fruitless battle against Fate."
With another wave of his wand, the portrait faded from view and his devices return as if they had never been gone. As that happened Fawkes crooned at him, perhaps in judgement and perhaps in sadness.
Dumbledore ignored it though, he had years of practice with that particular skill. As helpful as his companion was or as smart as he could be, there were some things that a phoenix would never understand. They were defined by their natures, just like every other magical creature, and it was that same nature that stopped Fawkes from fully grasping the problem or leaving him.
Because of their black and white mentality phoenixes rarely bonded with wizards but, when they did they did so for the life of the human. If they broke that bond the penalties would be severe, possibly even fatal. Given both of those facts, it was unheard of any bond having been broken...at any time.
"No," Dumbledore furiously whispered and with a disturbing certainty. "I am not evil….I am not."
He missed the almost silent pop, in the background and out of his view, The elf had heard his words and left, if only to inform his master of this new development.
-HPCOD-
"Will this evening never end?" Harry thought, not so much unkindly but rather more like with a bone-weary tiredness that leaked from every pore. It had, after all, been a very long day.
He was, once again, looking forward to nothing more than his bed (and the warm body of Hermione that waited in it) and the simple rest that would come from that basic act until he found something that all but banished that thought from his mind and have a slow rage build in its place behind his barriers.
A nearly naked girl, clothed in only her underwear and not even wearing socks, was wandering around the beginning of the seventh floor and almost collided with the young girl. Her petite elfin figure, already quite cold from the drafty castle and the bitter November, almost collided with him.
She was also humming light and seemed unconcerned with colliding with him and the fact that her body was already starting to turn blue thanks to her simple underwear.
"Can I help you… miss?" Harry asked her, not knowing her name but vaguely remembering that he had seen her at the Ravenclaw table for the last few years.
"Hmm?" She responded dreamily. "Oh, you're Harry Potter."
"So I have been told" Harry admitted. "And you are?"
Even as he said this he sloppily conjured a robe with his old wand. It seemed to snarl, fighting him even as he slipped the robe around her and then added several warming charms to the mix.
As he did this, her eyes did not move from his face. She studied him closely, unsure if he was going to help her or harm her. He saw that indecision and he tried to show, without words, that he would help her if he could and it must have worked because her body language eased and she opened her mouth to speak.
"I'm Luna Lovegood, though people call me Loony," she said neutrally, not as a test but rather simply because it was a fact.
"Not around me they won't" Harry growled. He knew that neutral tone, he had used that tone, and he was aware of the pain that could hide beneath such a bland veneer. Far from being afraid or upset, her expression did not change. 'Hope after all is a dangerous thing when someone gets used to living one way.'
Then a thought occurred to him "Wait, Lovegood as in the Noble House of Lovegood?"
"I suppose Daddy is the Head of the House. It doesn't come up much when we hunt for Crumple-Horned Snorkack's."
"Maybe it matters to me." Harry then hesitated already knowing that he didn't want to know and yet feeling compelled to ask anyway. "What's a Crumple-Horned Snorkack anyway?"
"It's a creature that doesn't not exist but doesn't exist either. We've been looking for it for years. Until we prove it doesn't exist, it exists and we will keep looking for it."
"O...kay," Harry said slowly, desperately trying to avoid the headache that was from coming from the idea of searching for something currently non-existent to prove that it exists and, when not being able to find it for years, concluding that you just had to try again. He decided, then and there, to move anything that he did understand that she said into a new file in his mind, as he didn't doubt she had much more craziness to vent.
Then never look at the file….ever, for the sake of his sanity.
Changing the subject slightly he brought the subject back to more immediate things. "Why are you wandering around late at night in this state?"
"I often wander around when the nargles take my things. It passes the time and the portraits are kind, even if they can't help me they have been nice to me since my first year." She stopped speaking then and her eyes became suddenly focused on him in a way he had never seen before. "Ohh... that's special. It's like a caress and a tremble all in one… magic sings of you."
"These nargles… do they wear Ravenclaw robes?" Harry asked while, once again filing away those comments that he didn't understand.
"Yes, I suppose that most of them do. Is that important?" Luna somehow managed to sound both curious and oddly unconcerned at the same time.
"Luna?" Harry asked as he seemed to change the subject. "Will you be my friend?"
"I haven't had a friend in years. There was Ginny but she stopped coming round after my mother died." Her voice had turned as she spoke into that of what she was, a small and vulnerable girl who had been dealt a bad hand and then mistreated by people ever since.
"You do now," Harry replied in a strong voice even as, with a muttered incantation, a glowing stag appeared and he spoke to it. "If you are not in Ravenclaw Tower in five minutes professor there won't be one."
He held out his free arm with a tenderness that was lacking from his voice less than a second ago and she gratefully took it as they both moved quickly towards the home of the Ravenclaws.
"Let's go and get your things, shall we?"
"Okay" Luna replied dreamily once again. "Do you know that in another time and place you have a sword of frozen fire?"
"That's nice."
"Yes. You also love me very much."
Despite his best efforts that thought nagged at him and the headache that he had been fighting was now threatening to bloom full force.
-HPCOD-
The Common Rooms of Hogwarts were the most direct reflections of the founders themselves.
Gryffindor Tower, for example, was the first tower built and faced the main access to the castle proper. This meant that it was the most fortified of them all and the easiest point to see an approaching army seeking to attack the castle.
Where else would the brash, brave, brawny and battle loving Godric make the home for his students?
The Ravenclaw Tower was similarly a reflection of the magical legend that had once made it her home for much of her life and her students after her. It was pointed away from the main thoroughfare of the castle, was taller than its siblings and dwarfed them by fifty feet. Unlike Gryffindor Tower, which was utilitarian in basic design, Ravenclaw's was bright, airly and peaceful.
It even had its own library and was a true sanctum of quiet contemplation for those that were considered the ultimate scholars of Hogwarts. It was a very peaceful place and had been for centuries because of that, until a very angry Harry Potter shattered it.
Perhaps someone else might have handled it better, someone else might have simply brought it quietly to Flitwick's attention and there were many logical reasons that could have shown why none of the above would have worked.
He could have logically argued that the two final arbiters of school discipline were the Headmaster and their Deputy (at least technically thanks to the School Charter) and he had no doubt that Flitwick had already been proven lacking when it came to standing up to them. The three years that Luna had been under the man's care were proof enough of that for him as someone should have known.
If they weren't talking it was because either the system was broken or Flitwick was overruled. In short, no matter the reason Flitwick was failing in his duties and Harry would not allow that to put his friend at risk.
Logic, however, did not apply for him in this situation and the only thing that did was Harry himself.
He had grown up beaten. He had grown up abused. He had grown up knowing horrors that no child should see and being told things, lies about those that would have or could have loved him, that no one should ever have been told. Now that he was free of the potions that had once addled him he found that he could think more clearly and realised that, when he was in situations similar to Luna's, no authority figures came to help him.
Simply put, he had developed a hatred for bullies that had been blunted by the potions and was now back and snarling like a caged animal. It didn't matter to him what kind of bully it was and he didn't trust the adults to fully (or in some cases even partially) deal with the problem.
This was also why the door that had been spelled to block Luna and perverted into an instrument of bullying against his new friend exploded into splinters as he entered. It was simply the easiest outlet for the first few seconds of his anger.
As it was late in the evening the lower three years were mostly in bed and the shards that flew from the door were slow-moving enough that anyone that was hit wasn't seriously injured. It did make for a good entrance though.
That wasn't to say that they were cowed, far from it in fact. Thanks in large part to the fourth, fifth and sixth-year prefects (although there weren't technically prefects until fifth year Ravenclaw liked to assign younger years to act as such) he walked into a battle zone as they moved to stop whatever threat had literally burst through their door. All of their attacks hit a deep blue shield that rippled under the assault but held firm. It moved as its creator entered deeper into the room and then stopped, even as the students ceased attacking, both slightly worn out and expecting to see an exhausted and easily containable enemy.
What they got instead was a Harry Potter that frankly could do with a challenge. It was the first time since he had broken free of his potion induced chains, that he could truly test himself against living opponents. That and his righteous anger needed purging, an outlet.
A wave of force came from his slashing wand even as his shield blinked out of existence. Three of his enemies flew into the air under its assault. As the two third-year prefects and one of the fourth were playing unwilling supermen in the air, he point-blank stunned the last of the prefects in his year and turned to face the remaining four.
Even though they were out of sorts, surprised and at least one of their number was out of breath they attacked straight away and relatively in concert which was only to their credit.
Deftly stepping deeper into the room he took advantage of the fact that, though they did do their best, they were out of position to be truly effective even as he ducked under a fast and powerful bone breaker that would have shattered his head like a ripe melon had it landed. That was in front of three stunners of varying power that would have, in turn, knocked him out for at least a few days.
Shielding them took barely a thought, even as he summoned a book into the path of a spell that he didn't recognise. He found himself quite thankful that he did as it burst into green flame as soon as it was hit.
His response was equally as quick.
He recognised that the two greatest threats to him were the sixth year prefects as they were both the most knowledgeable and the casters of the two most powerful spells. He also didn't want to be extremely outnumbered by the waking students and so, he acted.
His next spell animated one of the many comfortable reading chairs and it jumped out, heading for the older male prefect. It grew a wide, grotesque but toothless mouth and clamped down on the boy's wand arm very hard. Then it pinned him under its immense bulk and battered him until he was dazed and unable to fight.
Then he shot a yellow spell that hit the ground near the elder girl and it turned her footing on the staircase into an oiled slide. She screamed and yelled as she tumbled down. The younger ones finally collapsed from Harry's first spell running its course even as she did so.
Before they could get back up and react to the threat that he represented they were bound in ropes and forced (as the ropes were especially tight around their hands) to drop their own wands.
The only one that was left conscious and therefore able to answer questions was the sixth year female prefect. Even as she scrambled to get her wand (it had rolled away from her in her fall) all she found were Harry's angry burning green eyes staring at her in judgement and a wand glowing red with barely restrained power pointed at her head.
"Do you want to die?" Harry asked softly. It wasn't that he would kill her in this situation but, then again, she didn't know that.
"W-what?"
"Do. You. Want. To. Die?"
It was at this point that Luna Lovegood stepped through the broken door, almost floating through it, and seemingly unconcerned with what was going on around her. It was also at this time that the sixth year muggle born prefect made another mistake.
"This is about fucking Loony?" She scoffed with derision only for Harry's hand that didn't hold a wand to flash out and strike her in the face, drawing blood and cracking a tooth or two.
"Don't you bloody well dare! Answer the fucking question." As he spoke his rage leaked out into the air and frankly terrified her more than anything else she had seen so far.
"No," she blurted out and then began to sob but, before she could continue but, before Luna could ask him to stop in her own unique way or before he could do anything else Flitwick entered in victorian era nightwear that was sized for him.
His own wand was blazing but, being a veteran of many skirmishes with Death Eaters, Flitwick understood the look of a man on the edge and therefore didn't point it at him. He could tell that, if he did, it wouldn't end well for anyone here.
"Mr Potter," he said softly like he was coxing a skittish animal, "what is this all about?"
"Here," Harry said and, even as he knew that he was facing a duelling master he took a small risk. As his wand tip turn a soft, moonlight silver, he could hear the footsteps of the rest of the House on the stairs. They were drawn, no doubt, by the sound of fighting and hearing their Head of House's voice.
With a flick of his wand, he first touched it to his forehead and then, with a pebble-like substance now on its tip, he flicked it towards the half-goblin.
Thankfully for Harry's continued health, Flitwick recognised what he was doing and didn't resist as the pebble flew towards him and landed in his brain. In the professor's mind the meeting of Harry and Luna, the fight and everything else that happened in the last ten minutes replayed with lightning speed.
This also included a conversation between the two right before he blew up the door where he asked her to stay back and out of the fighting. It was during this conversation that Harry (and now Flitwick) learned that even the door itself was set against her by her own housemates.
Judging by his expression, Harry could tell that the normally jovial professor was both deeply ashamed of what he had seen and was far, far angrier than Harry had ever seen him.
"For clarification's sake, by what right do you attack members of my House?" Flitwick's tone was not one of judgement but of concern and not for those students (perhaps save one) that were Ravenclaw's. "The Noble House of Lovegood has not historically been aligned with your own and, until you become Lord Potter fully, your actions are very limited… legally speaking."
"Noble largesse," Harry replied, as calmly as if he was discussing the weather, even as his wand returned to blazing and moved pointedly to the prefects head once again.
"A fine tradition," admitted Flitwick and he didn't need to add that it was also a fine legal loophole that should protect Harry from any offended pureblood families that would want the young man's head. "I however claim the greater right as her Head of House. I will stand as her champion and protector in this and all other things."
"If you do not…" Harry began, even as his wand slowly lowered.
"Then I will help you hunt them, all of them," Flitwick promised this, knowing that he had failed and aware that he had no right, legally or morally, to complain as this had been going on for Merlin knows how long right under his nose.
Sensing the truth in the man's words Harry nodded sharply, sheathed his wand and began to walk out. He stopped once, briefly, to wish Luna a goodnight in a soft and soothing voice.
"Goodnight Harry. Do you know that elsewhere you are under the watchful eye of timeless Gods, travel the stars and even see a Federation of Planets?"
"Just…" Harry began, unsure of what to say yet again, "tell me if this happens again?"
Harry nodded and, even as he heard Flitwick begin to bellow for every member of Ravenclaw and their whining complaints, he finally headed to the Room.
Only to find Hermione, Dobby and Ravenclaw waiting for him.
"Harry," Hermione began "Dobby has news."
"In a moment love," Harry replied before turning to Ravenclaw with a perplexed expression on his face. "Just what the living fuck is Luna Lovegood?"
"Oh," Ravenclaw replied, seemingly surprised by the question. "Well, that's simple and complicated…"
A/N Edited, with thanks to matiasleissoder97, due to a minor omission.