Chapter 13 Practice Makes Perfect

"For man, when perfected, is the best of animals, but, when separated from law and justice, he is the worst of all: since armed injustice is the more dangerous, and he is equipped at birth with the arms of intelligence and with moral qualities which he may use for the worst ends. Wherefore, if he have no virtue, he is the most unholy and the most savage of animals…" Aristotle in Politics Book I (4thcentury BC).

Again the kiss was veering towards danger so Gellert broke it off, he walked a few paces briskly as if he were trying to shake off a muscle cramp and then said: "I don't know about you, but I could really use something to blow off some steam. How about a change of pace in our training towards something equally physical but of a different nature?"

"I'm not sure what you mean by that, Monsieur Grindelwald."

He chuckled: "Your story, my friend, brought up a very interesting point: there are some beasts and creatures with magical resistance like mountain trolls, graphorns and even to some degree giants, centaurs and werewolves that are not easy to fight with regular spells. It may very well be the case that you don't have a whole night to research their weaknesses translating them from a book in Low Goblin. Our quest can take us anywhere. You may become aware of an unknown beast's magic resistance by having to face it. There is also another problem: doing magic underwater, which you, being somewhat aquatic, must know is hard to do even with a wand as a lot of spells don't work well, you have to put more muscle behind them, something few wizards can manage. Wonder if there are any serious studies about density and elasticity affecting diffusion, reflection, refraction and diffraction focused on magic … I could bet my head they aren't, but they should be, they really should."

I laughed softly: "I'm so glad to know I'm not the only one who rambles. And I'm glad too there is no one willing to take you on your bet, I fancy your head where it is. Flamel has some very interesting essays on the subject. Not published, of course, for they mention particles and anything even suspected of addressing the indivisible is swiftly expunged by the Ministries, but he does mention that higher temperature and density should, as they mean higher concentration of corpuscles, affect diffusion for they increase the risk of collision. As for diffraction, reflection and refraction Flamel and Dumbledore have some other interesting and unpublished essays about how water elastic properties affect the shock waves effects on two spells: Stupefy and Protego. It is my studies on the later that allow me to cast a multiple shield. Though I admit you may not consider the essays as formal studies, because gathering hard data is very difficult. Wizards avoid being underwater. I've helped Flamel with some experiments, but, so far, to my knowledge, no one has replicated them or come up with their own; so there is no statistical support to our claims as of yet."

"As hard data is missing and we are only talking about what amounts to pieces of speculative writing and a couple of experimental designs, I think my head is safe for now. The point is, Monsieur Dumbledore, another avenue of training opens for us. Would you be as kind as to cast Ferroque Intus et in Cute on yourself?"

"You want me to turn myself to iron? You said you are aware of the dangers of human transmutation."

"I am, you are, we both are. We both understand successful human transmutation requires you to exist in several states at the same time. We both know the risks and the countermeasures; as well as the usual mistakes when trying to implement said countermeasures. I bet my head again that we both have looked into our own improved countermeasures in despite of the prohibitions. I think you will find that those work better with you being a shadow walker now, since that means you are already existing in a permanent state of indeterminacy. Most people only manage to exist in several states to transmute for limited periods of time into the animal they feel the greatest affinity with. But we are so much more than animagi, my friend. Your grandfather had it right: magic is mind over matter and regular minds have biases, so when most people have to picture an alternative to being themselves, they usually are only able to do so to transmute into their so called animal spirit. That is, if they are to be able to return to themselves, eventually. We have already successfully gone beyond that limit with your centaur and my giant. We did it even before becoming one of those who walk all the paths at the same time, as my Shaman teacher dramatically states it. And we could go back and forth about all this now or we could acknowledge the fact that, unlike most wizards, we are both powerful and skillful enough to do it. Modern wizards like to think that magic has grown weak because that is easier to accept than it is to acknowledge it is them who have grown weak… and soft in the head."

"That sounds awfully unkind, Gellert."

"Truth is seldom if ever pretty and never, ever kind. We are not weak and the biases that thwart most wizards are not ours. So, tell me, Albus: What is it going to be? Are we to lose a couple of hours discussing this at length or can we proceed with the lesson?"

I sighed: "Proceed, please, my friend. But let it be noted: I want to discuss this at length at a later time."

"Agreed, later we will discuss it to your heart content. I'm surprised that you know Ferroque, most wizards don't." He said as he cast the spell on himself and turned a metallic shade of gray: "You are already in good physical shape, so we can move to sparring almost right away. I want you to turn to iron because that way I cannot hurt you while I teach you baton fencing. I also want you to turn that Alder wand with a Phoenix feather core, which I think is the one that suits you best -besides your own- into an iron cast truncheon like this: Augifico! Ferrum!" He was using the Black Walnut with a kneazel whisker core that worked best for him, besides his own. He turned the wand he was practicing with into a baton with a rapid flick of his wrist."

I did the same to my wand, using his as a model: "Augifico! Ferrum!"

He said: "Do not turn your wand to a baton if you are flaying it about in a fight. You want to make sure your resulting baton doesn't get caught on anything and is deployed fully in one single movement, so always do it parallel to your leg. You have to learn to do it with a single flick of your wrist. Then I want you to swiftly move the truncheon upwards, elbow close to your body, the hand holding the baton in front of your sternum, the baton almost touching your shoulder like this." He showed me the position: "That way you are ready to protect your face and neck. You will also have a better purchase for an immediate attack, we'll get into it later. For now we will just practice deployment and combat stance. Make your truncheon shorter, I think about 14 inches long will do for you."

I rose an eyebrow: "I don't know the first spell, I would need you to teach me wand movements and intonation. I know Latin, though, that is how I know what it does. And your truncheon looks about 21 inches… Why would mine need to be so much smaller? Is this another pun about my height?"

"I already know how to use mine, my muscles are trained for combat and, though a truncheon is a short range weapon, I like the flexibility of technique that 21 inches afford me. You are shorter than me and for weapons in physical combat, size does matter, my friend. You are also untrained, so you will start learning with the 14 inches and move to 16 once you master it, because, even with iron skin, we are going to be hitting each other pretty hard and I'd rather not have you flaying a baton too long to be useful for a beginner. Afterwards, we are both going to turn our wands into staff weapons 71 inches long, so I can teach you an eastern technique known as wushu. We will focus on fighting using a staff they call khakkhara. The original version has a round crowning with jingling rings for it can be used both to call the faithful and to defend traveling monks. We will do away with the rings, stealth being a strategic advantage for our purposes. The baton works best when dealing with opponents of roughly your same size, but when dealing with giants, trolls or anything considerably bigger than you, the long staff is better. If I ever meet that Zoroastrian of yours in the flesh, I'm going to ask him for pointers on how not to get lip from you, Monsieur Dumbledore."

I pouted: "It was just an observation! And an honest question, I think..."

"Then you got what you wanted when I gave you an honest answer. Now, let me teach you the right intonation and wand movement for the first spell, once you master casting it and moving around in your iron skin, I want you to learn to cast it concurrently with a glamor that makes you seem unchanged." He said as his skin seemed to return to normal: "So that if we are fighting a magically resistant creature that has a wizard master or ally, they can't easily undo our best protection against a physical attack. We are going to stay on the ground for now, but once you get really adept at it, I will teach you to adapt your buoyancy so that you can also swim in your iron skin. We will start practicing casting all three spells and the glamor in succession, while adopting a combat stance, and then we will practice parries and attacks until you feel comfortable. For the next stage of training, we will duel, for the best combat training is combat. Finally, we will combine Muggle fighting with spell casting with our wands both in truncheon and staff form to achieve maximum efficacy of both magical and physical defense and attack."

"I take it this is not your first dance, Monsieur Grindelwald. You seem very well informed. Again, I don't know if I should be admired or terrified by it."

"I've told you that I'm Aristotelian and that I have been training to become a warlock since I first had that vision. Whatever did you think I meant by that? I always strive at perfecting myself and I'm planning for the long run, my role model being Alexander the Great. Though I must confess I got the idea of training myself for a unique profession from Sherlock Holmes designing his own curricula for sleuthing, learning every topic of interest to him instead of waiting for someone to force feed it to him. I happen to think that a good combat technique is a must for a revolutionary."

I chuckled: "Conan Doyle strikes again."

A warm boyish smile flickered on his face and then quickly he got serious once more: "For eight years I have been the sole person fully committed to stopping the horror from swallowing the world, so yes, I'm very well informed of anything that can help me avoid getting killed while I further my aim. How many actual combat skills do you think you learnt in Hogwarts?"

"I'm sorry Gellert, I don't see where you are going here. Do you want me to estimate a percentage?"

"Not necessarily, but sure, give me your wildest guess."

I had to actually pause and think about it: "There was dueling club and all offensive spells can be used in combat. Oh Merlin! I don't know: 30 percent?"

He chuckled: "You are indeed an optimist, my friend."

"I think I held myself relatively well when I dueled you. How many combat skills did they teach you at Durmstrang?"

"Honestly? I think they taught me zilch. The root of the problem is not with schooling, is with outlook. Aside from the killing curse, which no magical school actively teaches, there is pretty little that sanctioned magic can do in actual combat. The fact that killing force is about the only practical spell available to goody two shoes says a lot about their actual goodness and their intelligence. And, Albus, you held yourself against me in a highly ritualized mockery of combat. I never intended to hurt you and I would never had offered you to join me in my revolutionary schemes based solely on that. Frankly, I was more impressed when you blew up the fire crab betting ring."

"Merlin's beard, Gellert!"

"It showed true initiative, creativity and actual combat skills, Albus. That you were able to retain those after seven years of those Ministry complying eunuchs trying their best to castrate real magic out of you, is a testament to the strength of your character."

"Have I told you that, before joining you in your mad crusade, I was seriously considering becoming one of the eunuchs trying their best to castrate magic out of young wizards and witches?"

He laughed: "Then I'm even gladder I have swept you off your feet and prevented that horrible fate from happening, my friend. I don't think I want to live in a world where a mind like yours is reduced to teaching at Hogwarts. I'd rather set the world on fire than see you wasted there. Good thing I was already planning to set the world on fire."

"I'm signing in for making a better world, not for burning the old one. I'm sure it only needs a little tweaking."

"See? An optimist I tell you. Would hard facts convince you?"

"What hard facts?"

"Let us play a guessing game while you practice with Ferroque, going iron and back." He demonstrated. "When you get the hang of moving as iron, try the glamor. Go. As for the hard facts. Are you aware that your ministry's keeps careful statistic of wizards, especially in the case of Hogwarts alumni?"

"Is an elite really a good sample to go by?"

"It is not only for Hogwarts alumni. Is for all adult wizards: Including those who take the Ministry's standardized test after homeschooling. Since most witches are either self-employed or housewives and they tend to fall under the cracks, we will focus on formally employed wizards alone. Can you guess what the average of education of your English employed wizard is?"

"I haven't really thought about it, but I will say that it is a five O.W.L.s level."

"And you would be wrong. As it turns out 80 percent of your employed wizards only have on average a little shy from four O.W.L.s for those educated in Hogwarts and three Standard Wizard Outstanding Test for those homeschooling."

"That can't be right."

"But it is. Your Ministry also calculates the number of spells and potions that are required to pass the three and half O.W.L.s 75 percent of your fifteen year olds manage to pass with at least an Acceptable. Care to make a guess, my friend?"

I gulped: "Not really."

He chuckled: "Going just by your Ministry's statistics, the number of spells your average wizard has to master in order to be the bread winner of your wizarding household comes to the appalling amount of thirty two spells and five potions, Albus. So if you are going to pick up a fight with an English wizard on the street, chances are that said wizards is going to know, and I'm being incredibly generous here, around fifty spells and 7 potions. That is considering that you do like to keep your floors clean with Scourgify and treat your warts with white willow poultices. Of that small amount of knowledge that you seem to consider prepares someone for life: how many do you gather are combat worthy?"

"Sweet Merlin! Wait a minute Gellert. We are not going to pick up a fight with Dick from Gutter St., we are picking up a fight with Aurors who had to pass at least four N.E.W.T.s with Exceeds Expectations grades. And three additional years of training of Concealment, Stealth, Tracking, Poisons and Antidotes and Magical Detection and Law."

"Bravo Albus! That is good thinking, I thought about it too. And your ever helpful Ministry also keeps public records of that. For being so keen on keeping things obscure, your government, my friend, does not understand the concept of secrecy. Publicizing the skill set of their sole army, a much reduced army, is downright stupid. My Austrian Cabinet at least is a little bit less idiotic, they keep that information under lock and key. Not a lock a shadow walker cannot break, but I give them points for the effort."

"You think this is funny!"

"Not in the least. How many spells do you think Average Auror is going to have at his disposal when you face off with him? Again, that is going by your Ministry's statistics alone, Monsieur Dumbledore."

"How many?"

"This was supposed to be a guessing game, Albus."

"I am not in the mood for games, Gellert. How many?" I was so shaken that I clang the baton against my leg, the pain was minimal but enough to make me come back to my senses. I lowered my tone of voice: "Please, just tell me."

"Be mindful that the training programme hasn't been updated since the 18th century when it was initially instituted, my friend. Your Aurors have to know eighty nine spells, hexes, charms and glamors. They need to master forty one potions and ointments. And this is my personal favorite: they need to know the thirty two most common creatures of the isles, a list which includes two extinct species they will never encounter. Also, it requires them to be able to perform five free transmutations in order to be considered the best qualified to protect magical Great Britain. As for their intellectual prowess, aside from their magical skill: They are not even required to be able to spell their names right or be able to add up their tab without the use of a magical quill, Albus."

"Fuck mercy! Wait, wait another minute. They have permission, under certain circumstances, of using unforgivable curses. Those are unbeatable and that alone makes them dangerous."

"If the fact that killing force, torture and mind alteration are the most effective resources at their disposal doesn't tell you we are fighting against tyranny, I don't know what does. First: Nothing is unbeatable, what a man can make another can unmake, spells, all spells, were conceived by wizards just like you and me, Albus. No angel or god delivered them to us and unforgivable curses are no different. Second: Are you telling me that you find comforting the idea that only three curses stand between you and whoever may want to take over? What if I were to tell you that all those three curses can be rendered ineffectual by a rather clever and verily good looking young wizard?"

"I'd tell you to quit morphine or letting your valet bite you, whatever vice you're hung up to, you shouldn't take your admiration of Holmes so far, my friend."

He laughed unbridled: "At the end of this training I'm going to teach you how it is done, if you haven't figured it out on your own by then. But, Monsieur Dumbledore, be prepared to call me master for real if you don't. As I'll know you are only fit to be my slave: A very pleasing slave, but not an equal partner. Since I like you so much, my friend, I'll give you two clues: One, remember your Marcus Aurelius and, first principles: ask yourself: What is a spell? Two: You already know the answer of how to beat the unbeatable unforgivable curses, you just haven't made the right question."

Harry stood up and stomped his palm on the table. Then he faced Hermione: "Do you think that is possible?"

Ron, Hermione and Ginny were looking at him wide-eyed.

Hermione blurted: "They always told us the unforgivable curses were unbeatable."

Harry frowned and said with anger in his voice: "I'm not fucking asking you what they told us, Hermione. I'm asking you if you think it is possible to stop unforgivable curses and if you think Dumbledore knew how to do it. I personally know of at least two instances in which one unforgivable curse was effectively stopped. So it is doable. And one could argue that the second instance was orchestrated by Dumbledore with full knowledge of what was going to happen." He stood up and hit the wall.

Ron stood up too and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder: "Mate, calm down."

"Mate, my parents..." his voice broke.

Ron nodded: "And Neville's, and Sirius, and Fred too, Harry. Fred too."

Harry Potter turned around so that his friends couldn't see his face.

Ron patted his back: "I wouldn't put it pass bloody Dumbledore. But Gellert Grindewald was only sixteen and sixteen year olds can be full of it, especially when they are trying to impress someone they fancy... So don't draw any conclusion just yet, mate."

Hermione blabbered as she tried to rapidly skim through the diaries: "This has no index but if you let me go through it I can try to find the exact part in which..."

Harry denied and sat back down looking somber: "There is no rush. We'll get there soon enough. Keep reading, Hermione. I'm OK now."

"Hah! Asking the right question. And if you find the bellboy pleasing, then you are sicker than I thought. What is undeniable is that you are one conceited…"

"Now, now, you don't want to start your training by insulting your teacher. For I intend to teach you combat from a wider perspective than waving a wand to kill as only resource. And the only way of doing that is, not surprisingly, teaching you Muggle style combat as magical one is, as pretty much everything else, a lost art. Everything useful has been almost expunged to nonexistence. Violence has to be repressed in wizards and witches souls in order for them to accept the shameful servitude to the Statute of Secrecy we are all stuck with. They don't want ragging bulls, Albus, but dumb ox licking at the yoke." He spat on the floor disgusted.

"That's a bit harsh."

"I think it is accurate. I will have you reclaim your nature and live it to its full. Oh what a warlock you will make when I'm done with you."

He looked intensely at me until I looked away blushing.

"Over these last two years of preparations, while time traveling, I've tried to amend that shameful oversight in my education by training with two Muggle teachers to develop a mix combat style that suits well people who already carry a wand around. I've heard of a new sporting club that is doing pretty much the same with something they call bartitsu, but mine is especially designed for magic practitioners. One of my teachers was the master of speed and mobility, Franҫois-Joseph Bertrand known in fencing circles as the Napoleon of the foil. Despite misconceptions, he was not related to the Bertrand family dynasty, who still teaches young gentleman nowadays, and has even the crown princes under their tutelage. Franҫois-Joseph was not a salon fencer, but a master of the sword. Meeting the man required me to stretch my time traveling to the limit of safety, going as far back as 1855. He was at the peak of his art in the 1830s, but I could only meet him when he already was an old man. Regardless, his last duel was six months before his death and he died in his sleep, going to his grave undefeated. He managed that thanks to his lighting speed and unconventional techniques. So I decided the risk was worth it. Only after showing Franҫois-Joseph that I was worthy of it did he let me be his apprentice. My second teacher was a completely unknown man, for that was his design. It suited me well, for it spared me the trouble of having to pretend to be someone else. I suspect he would have seen right through any effort to deceive him, perhaps even magical ones. Besides, once he determined by trials I was worthy to learn from him, he didn't ask anything of me but to strive for perfection, for he wouldn't have anything less. I only knew him as Māsṭara and he called me Chātrā which mean master and student in his language. He trained me in a temple in Katmandu. I found him thanks to a rumor Uzume-chan had heard, if you remember she is my witch correspondent in Mahoutokoro."

"Once more your purposefulness amazes me. You managed to get trained precisely by these people driven by a vision you had when you were ten. And I thought I was an obsessive planner."

"People in my circumstance, Monsieur Dumbledore, cannot afford to operate upon fancy or whim. I'm nothing if not purposeful. Which is why meeting you was more than a little troublesome to me." He said caressing my face: "I don't usually welcome the unexpected, Albus. But I'm glad you are now committed to the cause. If you hadn't accepted to join me, I would have had to walk away from you or at least try to. I'm used to getting things my way and I seem to want to be with you very keenly… I'm not sure how I might have reacted, if you had decided otherwise. I'm glad neither of us gets to find out how that might have gone down."

Hermione bit her lip: "I can't make out what it says in the next paragraph, the writing is really bad here." She waved her wand and frowned: "The diaries must be protected against alteration, I cannot fix it." She had kept trying until Harry made her stop.

They didn't have any way of knowing if Mr. Dodge had known the relevance of the two dates they could read, but they did. The other three tried unsuccessfully to read from the portion of intelligible diary. What they could piece up between the four was:

I'm so incredibly stupid Elphias, can you believe I actually felt flattered? A part of me still feels his words were a confession of love…other part is screaming… Desire to own has nothing to do with love… how precious that possession seems to be... Foolish hopefulness and bitterness… I'm too close to the problem…pain, which should have somehow diminished in the years past is as good as new… especially true of late with that dreadful date: March 28 1998 looming ever closer… forever being out of my reach… My good Elphias, am I to take comfort from knowing that June 30… Don't hold this against me, my friend... Temptation at my age is a shameful affair…. I wish I could have explained all in full, but self-justification is almost as abhorrent to me... What happened to us is…

He let go of me with a sigh and carried on: "Time being of the essence and a precious commodity to me, I had to learn fast, hence both my teachers demanded that I followed their instructions unquestioningly and that I pushed myself to the limit and beyond. You might want to profit from my experience. There is a method to the madness of learning how to turn yourself into an effective weapon, Monsieur Dumbledore… A method tested by survival. I advise you to learn it by root, if you want it to serve its purpose right. Once you master it, you can cast the mold aside and make your own. My take on it is that you need at the very least five of your N.E.W.T.s all with Outstanding and at the very least three additional years or however long it takes to learn proper combat, concealment, reveling, real free transmutation, as well as the knowledge of the importance of understanding how the world (magical and non-magical) actually works, so you can be considered an elite warrior. Having read several of your papers, your highly publicized curricula, talked to you and seen you in action, I think that we have pretty much all of it covered with you, save for the combat side. I'm ready to teach it to you, if you are willing to learn it from me. That is, if you respect me enough to feel I will be able to teach you, which includes not questioning my method every step of the way."

"Point taken, I'll follow your methods unquestioningly then, my friend. With one caveat, since you say that you have enough hair to brew the Polyjuice Potion again, I want out of the bellboy's skin."

"Albus that is a waste of perfectly good hair! Plus you need to practice in disguise."

"Balderdash, the energy necessary to sustain Polyjuice transformation is negligible and you know it. I only agreed to remain in the bellboy's loathsome skin because I didn't know you had more of his hair. Plus you were willing to waste perfectly good hair for the sake of…" I blushed: "You know what."

He smiled mockingly: "I'll agree, if you call it by its name, no euphemisms. And if you solemnly promise to follow my indications in regards to combat until you are skilled enough to make your own decisions. It's for your own safety, Albus. Indulge me and I'll indulge you."

"Deal. You were willing to waste perfectly good hair for the sake of us having sex. You can waste it for the sake of me not wanting to vomit every time I see my reflection. And I solemnly promise to follow your indications unquestioningly in regards to combat, as long as they are reasonable."

"I guess that promise is as good as it gets with you. Figures Monsieur Dumbledore is not made to be a mindless follower. I'll get out of the Swabian skin too."

I sniggered: "You don't have to. The man is no eye sore."

"Believe it or not there is a practical reason. I am more proficient handling my own body and that will redound in being able to teach you better. Does that sound reasonable to you?"

"It does." I cast my thief's downfall and changed us back. Then he cast a gust of wind to dry us.

"Well, having agreed upon the terms, the training begins now. I'll show you how I do the parries and the attacks and then you'll try it yourself. When you have it right then we will do it at the same time. We are going to use verbal spells the first few times. Then we'll change to non-verbal because not revealing what exact spell you are using is also better from a strategic point of view. Practice makes perfect, we will go for constant repetitions until you do it unselfconsciously. This has to come to you as easy as breathing to be really useful. Does that plan of action make sense to you?"

I merely nodded.

"Why, now, no comment?"

I smiled meanly: "So there is no way to please you then, Master Grindelwald. Make up your mind: how would you rather have me, silent or talkative? You cannot have me both ways."

He smiled meaner than I had and locked eyes with me: "Oh, you don't want an honest answer to how I'd rather have you right now, Albus Dumbledore, not after not having seen you look this good for a while; you don't. And I think we are both acutely aware of how you could please me. However, perhaps it is best if we focus just on combat and leave other physical engagements for a later more auspicious date. And you don't have to call me master for either instance… Unless you feel like it."

I chuckled for all reply. That was as honest an answer as I ever got from him. And looking at him was like looking him anew too, the Swabian was handsome but Gellert was Gellert and that made all the difference in the world. So it was better to let sleeping dogs lay.

Ron whistled appreciatively: "How old was he again? Sixteen, Eighteen… Never mind. This guy was unbelievable! He came up with the Auror training review act before it was implemented. What an Auror he could have made."

Hermione scoffed: "He was, or at least he pretended to be while impersonating Percival Graves the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Director of Magical Security while he successfully infiltrated MACUSA in 1926. It is a matter of record that he boasted during his captivity -while he was still allowed to keep his tongue- that he actually had to tone his magical ability down in order to impersonate Graves, in fear that his true power would give him away. And the Auror Training Review Act requiring five NEWTs, at least three with O and none with less than EE, also adding Battle Magic in the three additional years of training was instituted by Albus Dumbledore as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, in case that you wonder. Though the approved version was a revision, the original did include some Muggle combat training. Gellert Grindelwald was evil, but a very crafty, smart evil. Which is probably why the only person who could face him was the only one who had trained with him as an equal."

"Sure, he was a nefarious dark wizard, we all know that, but he had some things right when it comes to combining combat styles and training someone before sending them to danger. I didn't fail to notice that Albus Dumbledore never bothered to train us or the Order of the Phoenix as he had been trained. Even when he found out that Voldemort was gathering an army of giants and werewolves…If Bill had known about this, he might not be disfigured, luv."

Hermione protested: "I'm sure Dumbledore had his reasons. One of which may be that he didn't think we were powerful or skilled enough to manage the same training he had undergone. Not to mention that the knowledge they had about magic and so many other subjects exceeds by far any of ours. That may also be the case with defeating the unforgivable curses. That they could doesn't mean we can."

Ron didn't reply with words, he merely huffed spitefully. He turned towards Harry: "Do you remember, mate that time with the crazy witch with the illegal mandrake greenhouse who had a mountain troll chained in her backyard? Who would have thought that a creature as stupid as a troll could be trained as a guardian? Something like this could have saved us a lot of grief, mate."

Harry nodded: "Grief and several broken ribs, arms and legs. We all had lots of bone regrowing to do after bringing in those two. Even with the combined task force for Magical Creatures and our Tactical response team, we could barely managed to secure the mandrakes, the witch and the troll. And she looked like such a nice old lady at first that I thought we had the wrong house… Then all hell broke loose and my left ankle still bothers me when it rains."

Ginny frowned: "The healer said that there was not one single bone in your ankle and foot left unbroken. The troll had pulverized all 24 of them..."

Harry took her hand: "It's part of the job, Gin."

She didn't answer, she just nodded. A good Auror wife, she knew what she was signing up for when she married Harry Potter. It didn't mean she was not scared or uncaring, it just meant she had learned to hide her fear and concern very well. She had started young.

Hermione said while showing them: "And the diaries are very thorough, there are references to fencing manuals with diagrams and what looks like a Chinese scroll with drawings."

Ron looked at the diagrams and drawings: "These are really good. Want to try some of it the next time dragons show their ugly mugs in the diaries, mate?

"Sure, mate. It may come in handy."

It was Hermione's turn to frown: "You are no longer an Auror, my love."

Ron chuckled: "If you remember it Hermione Granger, I wasn't an Auror the first time I faced a mountain troll. You can always have a run in with a beast, even when the world is not under attack from a particularly nasty dark wizard. I mean, Bill had trouble handling a werewolf and he is a bloody good hexer...There are still some werewolves at large here in Great Britain. I don't want what happened to Lupin to happen to our kids. One never knows when something like this may be useful. You and Ginny might want to have a look into it too, luv."

It was not such a bad idea. Still, silently hoping they never got to put that particular knowledge to the test of survival again, Hermione nodded and continued reading.

Once I got the hang of the spells and moving around being iron hard, I was ready for combat.

Gellert said: "Take off your clothes and shoes. Leave only your drawers on."

"Excuse me?!"

"You are going to be iron-like, but you are still going to sweat and your clothes and shoes can still be torn. I would have asked you to be fully naked from the start, but I feared you would have a fit, if I suggested it."

"We sweat on the way up here and we still didn't climb naked."

He cocked an eyebrow: "Do you want to climb down shoeless and dressed in tatters?"

"I could magically reinforce my clothes and shoes."

"That would be a waste of energy. Please, Albus, don't let your bourgeois notions of morality get in the way. Just keep your drawers on and let us carry on training. There is noblesse oblige implied among sparring partners. I've trained with Uzume-chan while she wore nothing but a breast band and a loin cloth and I never thought of it as an invitation for intimacy outside of the dōjō. Besides, you said you were going to follow my methods unquestioningly."

I sighed: "Fine, fine, I should count myself lucky to be allowed to keep my calico drawers on. I should also count myself lucky it is summer here and that I wasn't wearing one of my union suits, you would have probably wanted me to take off that one too."

He laughed as he undressed: "Yes, take it off and burn it, not even my grandfather wore union suits. Do you really own one of those unseemly things, Albus?"

I began undressing too and replied: "I have two actually, and several pairs of wooly socks. I love wooly socks. Back home it gets chilly and I'd choose comfort over fashion any day, Gellert. I do not aspire to be a dandy. And I don't share the views of your teachers at Durmstrang about cold building up character. I've already had all the character building experiences I could want, without having to risk catching pneumonia, thank you very much."

It was his turn to chuckle for all reply. He moved right onto the lesson: "We'll go over some basic notions first. We will begin with how to stand: bend your knees and open your legs slightly that way you will be harder to topple. Losing your footing is a sure bet to lose a fight; balance is about understanding all forces acting over your body as you move. Are you familiar with the concept of center of gravity, Albus?"

"Yes, I'm familiar with mechanics, both the works of Archimedes of Syracuse and Sir Isaac Newton."

"Atta boy, of usual your center of gravity is within your hip area, when you bend your knees slightly your center of gravity drops lower. In combat, ideally, you want to be the person with the lowest center of gravity so you are the one tipping the other off balance. This is especially important when you are fighting a beast that is on all fours or has more legs than you. You want to ground yourself as you move, your hips and legs have to move with your upper body in order to go along with your center of gravity. You also want to keep your upper body over your center of gravity at all times or you will drop down like a sack of bricks. You don't want to lean too far forward while attacking, or you'll get counterattacked fairly easily. And if you are not properly grounded, then your attacks will be weaker. Now, see how I'm standing and do the same. Good. Show me how you do it. Good, that is really good."

I smiled: "I used to box with one of my former Muggle associates. He said a good boxer should be heavy in the fists and light on the feet."

"A wise Muggle, was he the same one who taught you how to pick pockets?"

"The one and only Messer Ciccone, fils de rien and Corsican, born in Ajaccio, just like Napoleon. Though how he knew where he had been born without any knowledge of either his mother or father is beyond me."

He laughed: "One of this days you must tell me all about the guy. Since you have a fair grip on balance, we can move onwards. You probably have enough notions on defense and range of attack, if you used to box. We will only need to adjust it to the usage of the weapon. I want you to picture a cylinder around you from your head until the beginning of your legs, with a circumference a little shy from the one you could make with your elbows on your waist and your forearms in a 90 degree angle to your arms. Adopt the position so you see what I mean. Right, now picture the cylinder: that is your block zone, you want to defend that cylinder, especially your face and neck for dear life. Now outstretch your arms as far as you can go, this may sound counter-intuitive, but you don't want to go far longer than that with a weapon, because you will offset your center of gravity. The advantage the baton is going to give you is to hit harder than you could barehanded, not to reach that much farther."

"That sounds fairly logical. If I go around flaying the baton wildly, as you have pointed out, it can get caught into something, I could hit you or hit me and I would be easier to disarm. Between the intrinsic hardness of the weapon, the smaller point of impact and the further extension and improved fulcrum I get with it, I will be able to hit harder, more precisely, hence inflicting more damage while exerting the same effort, which since I'm going to be weighting extra from being iron-like, serves me well. It is all a matter of leverage, levers amplify the output of force. Paraphrasing Archimedes: give me a baton long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it and I'll knock down a werewolf. My fulcrum is my elbow and that is also why the length of the baton is important to achieve the optimal force."

"As always it is a pleasure teaching someone who gets things right away. Fine, for how you should hold the baton: you want to make sure your grip..."

My good Elphias, I don't want to bore you anymore, let me spare you a full lesson on baton fencing and long staff wushu and move right into..."

"No, this cannot be true! He makes us go through his disgusting dissertation on how fire crabs shoot out explosive poop and the painstakingly detailed account of him getting dirty with the Zoroastrian and he spares us the single tirade I was actually interested in? You got to be fucking kidding me!"

Ginny growled: "Ronald Bilius Weasley, language!"

Hermione cleared her throat: "The tirade is in this addendum, my love. Apparently he transferred some of the writing to make the diaries more readable. You can read through it on your own. Now, can the rest of us continue with the diaries?"

Harry pointed out: "I would like to read the addendum too. But Ron and I can go through it when the dragons show up. Unless you two are interested?"

Ginny shrugged dismissively, Muggle fighting was not that interesting to her. Hermione denied too and carried on reading.

We practiced that day and the next couple of weeks from the break of dawn until sundown, with only half an hour for lunch. Making our way quietly up and down the hill was also part of the training. If the training prolonged itself into the night, we were ready to set up camp. We slept on a magical tent, casting guarding spells and taking turns to stand guard, for Gellert said that learning not to sleep during guard duty was also training for the future. He taught me to breakfast with nuts, cured meat or cheese and some bread we carried in our pockets while walking, marching at the pace that would help us cover distance efficiently and undetected, a two man army on the move. I learned to find my way with next to no light and to track normal animals and magical creatures in the dark. He also taught me about the shadow walker skills I had unwittingly bargained for. He taught me to move undetected by magic and to hide my magical signature at will. We played a version of hide and seek, trying to best each other, alternating the roles of hunter and prey. Once on the hill, we practiced toppling bowling pins with different wands, baton fencing and wushu staff fighting. I must admit that after getting the tattoo some things seemed to come easier to me.

We took my last three days of lessons in a deserted beach. I was to learn to swim in my new iron skin. Gellert produced a sailboat from his pouch and asked if I knew how to sail, I replied that I didn't so he taught me that too. He did it as we talked about the dynamics of air, which are the same for sails as are at work on wings and parachutes. We talked about pulleys and vectors of forces being added to profit from the wind to move the vessel. We discussed about keel and the risk of capsizing as he taught me to move on deck. We happily reviewed Newton's three laws of motion as we made our way to the open sea, working the sailboat with the ease of an old crew. Everything was fluid and natural with him. Even air was easier to breathe when he was around.

For us those little chats were the same as the small talk of wooing couples, a pretext to get to know the texture of our minds and for falling ever more in love with each other. I couldn't remember a time before he was in my life and, frankly, I didn't want to. He had become the sun around which my world revolved and I was glad to bask in his warmth. Joy derived by his mere presence was ever enhanced by discovering how similar our interests and concerns were. I felt a kinship to him I had never felt before in my life, not with any other friend and certainly not with my family. Imagine someone who had thought of himself as the last member of a sentient species finding another survivor and you will begin to understand how being with him felt like.

Once sufficiently away from the coast the training began. I made myself iron, gave myself gills, got in the water feet first and sunk like a lead weight. Near the bottom of the Spanish sea Gellert joined me with gills of his own, laughing and saying that since I had sunk myself right away, he would begin by teaching me to use my lungs to adjust my buoyancy at will so I would be able to raise to the surface by effectively lowering my density relative to the water I displaced. I replied that I knew of Archimedes' Principle, and that it would work just like Jules Verne imagined Captain Nemo's vessel called Nautilus would work. He kissed me in rewards for knowing Verne. Back then I fancied myself smart, but nevertheless I could turn into a giggling idiot around him.

Then we moved on to changing body density since only the surface of my skin needed to be iron and I floated as a plank while I got it. The magical transmutation involve in changing your body's density is fairly simple, which is why no wizard has ever understood the Muggle fascination with walking over water. Gellert had chosen to practice first at sea for the denser salt water would help me with added buoyancy. You float because water is denser than you, the denser the water the easier you float. The trick of walking on water is either changing your density or the water's. For reasons that should be readily apparent most wizards achieve it by changing the water's density.

I was to do it by the far harder expedient of changing my own density. Water is a fairly dense liquid by itself: it has upthrust, for its high density means it can exert a lot of pressure pushing outwards in every direction, when a vessel, and that includes a redhead teenager turned into an iron plank, sits on water, partly submerged, the water pressure is balanced in every direction except upward. Ever felt as if water were supporting you from underneath? That is called upthrust and works to keep you afloat. If you are iron, relatively small and hit the water feet first presenting a narrow entry surface which creates far greater pressure, you sink, like I did, because water displacement cannot compensate for your weight. If you have a wider surface your own weight can help you displace enough water to keep you afloat. That is how iron steamers can float. As long as it is not too much weight, so you remain relatively denser than water, or else you will sink.

The calculations are pretty straightforward. Gellert and I ran the math as he taught me the magic. It took me some time to get it right, but I did. I've always been a good swimmer, adjusting to my new iron skin was not hard. We swam and practiced underwater until late that night. We had to set up camp in the beach. Somehow, during the night, we drifted into each other arms. We woke up, happy, ready to get on with the training.

Elphias, would you think me crazy if I tell you those were some of the happiest days in my life? They would also prove to be fruitful days of learning useful skills for the two Wizarding wars I've been involved in. Can happiness be ever devoid of at least a little touch of sadness? There is a cloud of prospective sadness looming over even our greatest happiness. Conversely, even the greatest sadness contains the seed of hope of future happiness in it. I'm nearing the end of a long life full with experiences of both conditions and I don't think I can answer that question yet. Perhaps no one is ever meant to. Though my intellect rebels against such notion of an unanswerable question, I have to make my peace with not being able to continue looking for it.

AN: The missing paragraph may seem like a cheap plot device, I like to think it is not cheap and it is a plot device that will serve an important purpose later on. I am not trying to hoodwink you withholding important information, this is not listed as a mystery as the plot is canon, so please bear with me.

Talking about cheap devices… I was sorely tempted to be anachronistic and say Sherlock Holmes knew bartitsu back in 1899 because a club of the martial art combining cane fighting, savate, boxing and jujitsu actually was around since 1898. But Conan Doyle didn't mention it until 1903 when he brings Holmes back for The Adventure of the Empty House and has him say that he bested Moriarty at Reichenbach Falls thanks to his knowledge of tan-ta-da-dan: baritsu (sic). Yeah, dear Arthur misspelled it… Even Homer nods...

But nodding off is one thing and purposefully misdirecting is another. For example, getting the NEWTs highest mark wrong is nodding, readily amendable (I've already done it)… Using bartitsu while knowing it is anachronistic without at least addressing it is just wrong. I was so tempted, it's only a couple of years and it would have fitted in so nicely. I liked Gellert finding the reference and deciding to become like Sherlock. I wondered if I could get away with a future Gellert traveling back in time to give himself the book or use the seer card. My lovely punk devil whispered: "No one cares, remember the cool hooka skull in the movie that says 1898 Für das Größere Wohl when the phrase was supposedly coined by Albus one full year later? Two explanations come top of mind: the seer card or, Occam's razor: Gellert engraved the date and the phrase independently. So why can't you just put the reference to bartitsu in your fic? Use a disclaimer if it makes you feel better and stop being such a geek." But my geeky angel said: "If you feel you should not do it, don't. And when in doubt if you should, don't. In this case type I errors are worse than type II… Just don't."

As you might imagine, I'm trying to keep the science mentioned within the bounds of what was known back then, though I am stretching some things under the hypothesis that the greatest wizards of yore knew them. I like to think those wizards were a little less provincial than their post Statute of Secrecy counterparts and were interested in other things besides learning how to pronounce Leviosa to perfection, hence their spells were based on the actual observation of the world and that is what gave them power to create charms and artifacts that modern wizards cannot replicate. By the by, the fact that you need to pronounce to perfection makes me think spells are waves: two hints 1) It has to do with the relationship of frequency and wavelength 2) It has to do with constructive interference. Free tip, my take on how you beat unbeatable Avada Kedrava has to do with destructive interference. You can read on the science behind my claim in a separate fic.

I also don't want to sound gender biased, but I'm basing the guy's reactions to discussing the intricacies of baton fencing on my own circle of friends. The guys were really interested, the gals weren't. I admit that they do not constitute a statistically significant sample, but, bad excuse, it's the one readily accessible to me... For the sake of brevity, I'm not including all the lesson in the chapter.

I might post a tirade on fleshing out fighting scenes, I've already done it for some other topics, posting auxiliary writing to this fic, with the subjects of time traveling and thermodynamics, magical chess and dueling; the neuroscience of troubled romance and the psychology of power dynamics in captive- captor toxic relationships and the science in the killing curse. Yeah, I'm one sick puppy when it comes to researching for my fics, research taking up to 40 percent of my writing time… What can I say, I just love research and I enjoy descriptive kinetics. By the by, I am female, so there is always the rare bird.