Chapter 9
The Old Soldier
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
"You fought in the Clone Wars?"
"Yes. I was once a Jedi Knight, the same as your father."
"I wish I'd known him."
"He was the best star pilot in the galaxy and a cunning warrior. I understand you've become quite a good pilot yourself.
And he was a good friend."
-From Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
The next day, Harry brought his photo album with him to class. He kept it in the bottom of his rucksack, away from prying eyes. The night before, Harry had gone through the album again, the pictures inside stirring his emotions. He sat now in class, waiting in anticipation of his meeting with Professor Fletcher.
The second day of Survival in the Magical World was spent as an introduction to First Aid. As the lesson dragged on, Harry began to have an even greater sense of respect for Madam Pomfrey, the school's nurse. Attending Hogwarts almost ensured some form of injury and Harry had spent a great deal of time in her care. She had healed his every malady, from Dementor attacks to having to re-grow every single bone in his arm during his second year. Through it all, she seemed to do it effortlessly, and Harry had always assumed that it was indeed that simple. He was learning now that it was not so.
Professor Fletcher had spent a great deal of time defining many of the basic forms of magical healthcare. There was the potions aspect, in which a spell could be imbued into a solution for use by anyone in a time of need. The other and more efficient form included actual spells in which healing energy was transferred through a wand. This was much more likely to save a patient, but it was much more difficult and required a great deal of training and skill. While Ron seemed to have a bit of trouble grasping some of the concepts, Hermione took to it like a duck in water. Harry himself felt that he understood most of it. He had no idea how well Darien took to it, for he did not speak at all during the lesson, spending the entire time listening intently to Professor Fletcher's lecture and jotting down notes.
Professor Fletcher spent the first half of the class going over anatomy, conjuring up a faceless cadaver on his desk. Most of the students felt unsettled by parts of the lecture as the professor went over the crucial structure of muscle tissue and bone structure. The professor finished the lecture like this:
"As I said yesterday, there are two ways to use this information. Knowing perfect anatomy of a being can help you to heal it and treat its wounds. But it can also make you a more efficient killer. Keep that in mind when you're on the battlefield."
The class ended and the students began to file out. Harry gathered his things and waited for the other students to leave before he made his way over to Professor Fletcher's desk.
"Ah, thank you for coming, Harry," Fletcher said. "I truly appreciate that you're giving up some of your free time in this way."
"Oh, think nothing of it, Professor," Harry said. He began to relax at hearing Professor Fletcher speaking with a calm and amiable voice, much different from the one he had used the day before.
"Please, come into my office," Fletcher said. He rose and walked to the back of the class, where he opened the door and gestured for Harry to come inside.
Harry entered and observed his surroundings. The room was dimly lit by several candles and a low fire burned in a fireplace on the right side of the room, which had a very earthy feel to it. The wood of choice was oak and there were two matching recliners made of dark brown tooled leather. The mantle above the fire place held an assortment of gold and silver helms which had been molded to resemble the heads of dragons. The walls on either side of the fireplace were ornamented with swords over a coat of arms. On the other side of the room was a great bookshelf that held great tomes with spines as thick as Harry's rucksack. The back of the room was filled by an untidy wooden desk, which was laden with parchments, quills, and an occasional blueberry muffin. Behind the desk was a shelf that was filled to the brim with bottles, most of which contained a variety of liquors and wine.
As Harry stood in the center of the room, he heard a soft growl behind him. He turned and was face by a snow white dog with wolf-like features. The dog's teeth were bared and his fur stood on end. Harry could see the dog's powerful leg muscles bunch as it prepared to spring at Harry.
"Quiet, Tasha," said Professor Fletcher. "He's a friend."
The wolf immediately stopped growling but did not take its intense eyes off of Harry. It walked closer to him and Harry instinctively stepped back until he hit the desk. The wolf began to sniff at Harry for a few moments until it went back into it's corner. Professor Fletcher began to chuckle.
"Well, it looks as though she's given you her stamp of approval," he said. Harry just kept staring uneasily at the wolf.
"Please sit, Harry," said the professor. Harry sat on one end of the professor's desk while he walked over to where the bottles of alcohol sat. He began to pour himself a drink.
"Do you want something to drink?" asked the Professor without turning to face Harry.
"You wouldn't happen to have a butterbeer would you?" Harry asked, a little unsure of himself.
Professor Fletcher turned his face to look at Harry. He could see that the professor had a small smile on his face.
"I believe I can scrounge one up for you," he said. The professor set about mixing his drink, eventually pulling out a bottle of butterbeer from under the counter. He turned around and sat down at his desk before handing Harry the bottle. Professor Fletcher leaned back in his large leather chair and raised his glass.
"'Chapter 4, article 13, subsection 56, rule 4, of the Hogwarts Faculty Handbook,'" he began. "'No teacher shall imbibe alcohol while within the castle walls.' Here's to rules."
He downed the glass of whiskey and Harry took a tug on his butterbeer. The warm liquid warmed him to his core.
"So," said Professor Fletcher. "Did you bring the album?"
"Yes, sir," said Harry. He reached into his rucksack and brought out the leather photo album. He gave it to Professor Fletcher. The professor began to leaf through the pages, shuffling through dozens of pictures until he stopped at a certain page. His eyes were wide with shock and his mouth hung open. He leaned away from the album but kept his unblinking eyes on the book.
"I haven't seen this picture in over 15 years," he mused. "God, when you say it like that…"
Harry leaned over to look at the picture. It was different than the others on the page. It had not been enchanted so that the people inside the photo could move and talk. It was a normal still photo of two men. On Harry recognized as his father. The other man Harry did not know. The man's face was covered with blood and Harry could see he was missing several teeth from the weak grin he was giving. The man leaned heavily against his father, James Potter supporting most of the other man's weight. Behind them Harry could see an ancient brick fortress, moss clinging on the spires. Harry turned his eyes back to the man in the photograph. Then Harry realized who the man was.
It was Professor Fletcher.
"You knew my father?" Harry blurted out. The professor slowly nodded his head.
"I knew him very well," he said. "We went to Hogwarts together."
"Did you know Sirius Black?" asked Harry.
"Yes I did," answered the professor. "I knew them both very well. We all go back a long way."
There was a long silence. Beginning to feel uncomfortable, Harry decided to inquire about the castle.
"Where was this picture taken?" he asked.
For a long time, the professor didn't answer. When he spoke, his voice sounded much deeper and pained.
"Years ago, I was a member of the elite forces of the Ministry of Magic. I was highly decorated, considered to be a shining example of what made the perfect soldier. When Voldemort began to raise followers, the Minister at that time decided that he wanted to know as much as he could about this new threat growing in the southeast. So they sent me in, undercover.
I was captured."
He stared right at Harry, making the pupil feel quite uncomfortable. It was several moments before the old soldier continued his tale.
"I was taken to Fort Svitzen on the Yugoslavian-Bulgarian border. It used to be controlled by the UMN(United Magical Nations) as a type of "peace-keeping" fortification, but by then it was controlled by Voldemort's forces. I was considered a high-priority operative, but the thing was that my operation was so secret that I couldn't even send a distress signal.
"Anyway, they took me to that godforsaken place and tortured me. Not interrogated but tortured. I'd been trained to suppress the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, so they were forced to use more…conventional means."
Here he brought his hand up to his cheek and traced his long scar with his finger down the left side of his face. Harry gulped and became self- conscious of his own scar.
"They did things to me that I can't even describe. Yet, through the entire ordeal, they didn't ask me one question. They tortured me for the sake of torture. They enjoyed my screams. The other men in the fort must have used it like a lullaby. I went three weeks like that with the same routine, until they tried something different.
They brought in a Dementor."
Harry's heart sank. Dementors were Harry's greatest fear. They brought about the worst memories in a person's heart, and whenever one came close to Harry, he remembered the night that his parents were murdered. A Dementor was an abomination, the opposite of life itself. The professor poured himself another drink before continuing.
"I was a warrior. I'd been on the battle field many times. I'd seen my comrades fall under the onslaught of our enemies. The Dementor had plenty of nightmares to feed off of from me. It stayed with me for another four days before I knew that the time had come when it had tired of me. It decided to give me the…the Kiss."
The Kiss of the Dementor was the Dementor's most horrible ability. It brought its face down to the victim and sucked out his or her soul. It was worse than death.
"I knew what was coming. But then, right when the thing was probably puckering up…your father burst through the door and destroyed the Dementor with his Patronus. The Ministry had clued into the fact that I was in trouble after not reporting in for so long. By that time, the war had begun and people had either rallied behind Voldemort or against him. James had suggested that we moved to liberate Fort Svitzen but his superiors disagreed; they felt the risk was to great. He went against orders and led a small force to take back the fort and save me in the process. This picture was taken the day of the Liberation.
I made a solemn pledge that day. I swore fealty to your father. I promised to serve him loyally until I was dead, for only then could my debt be repaid. I stayed with him for a long time and we fought many glorious battles together. When Dumbledore suggested that James go into hiding, I understood that I could not follow him and that I could not be his Secret Keeper for the Fidelus Charm. I went to fight the war.
When I heard of your father and mother's death, I was heartbroken. I felt that I would never be able to repay him. I left the army and went into the cold recesses of Norway where I lived alone for fourteen years. But then Dumbledore told me about Voldemort's return and so I returned."
"You came back for that?" asked Harry.
"I came back for several reasons," answered the professor. "I knew that I could do more good teaching the younger wizards to protect themselves than simply going off and fighting the war by myself. Because of that, I took up Dumbledore's offer of a teaching position instead of on the warfront. I also discovered that you were still alive."
Here there was a pause. Harry knew where the professor was going with this.
"I can't repay my debt to your father," he said. "So now I will protect you."
Harry was speechless. He didn't know what to think.
"Don't worry," said the professor. "I'm not going to get involved with your personal life. Just be assured that I'll be keeping my eye out for you."
At that moment, an alarm clock on Professor Fletcher's desk went off, startling both of them. The professor cleared his throat.
"Look at the time," he said. "You should run along for supper. I don't want you to go hungry. Here, take your album."
Harry took the book and placed it back inside his rucksack. He stood and started for the door. The professor's voice behind Harry stopped him.
"Harry," started Professor Fletcher. "I truly enjoyed this. Do you think we could meet again like this tomorrow?"
Harry turned around, contemplating the question. Finally, he gave his answer.
"Sure," he said. "I'll look forward to it."
With that, Harry ran out and met up with his friends to eat dinner. He discussed the meeting with his friends.
"Wow," said Ron, his mouth full of mashed potatoes. "A real war hero, huh?"
"He's an amazing man," said Darien. He was starting on his steak. "We can all learn a lot from him. I just hope we can survive the class itself."
"I can't believe how much we're going to learn," said Hermione, picking at her salad. "I've already read all the books he put on our reading list and I can't believe he thinks were capable of performing those kinds of spells."
"I just want to learn about my father from him," said Harry. He wasn't eating anything. His meeting with Professor Fletcher hadn't sat well with his stomach.
The Old Soldier
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
"You fought in the Clone Wars?"
"Yes. I was once a Jedi Knight, the same as your father."
"I wish I'd known him."
"He was the best star pilot in the galaxy and a cunning warrior. I understand you've become quite a good pilot yourself.
And he was a good friend."
-From Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
The next day, Harry brought his photo album with him to class. He kept it in the bottom of his rucksack, away from prying eyes. The night before, Harry had gone through the album again, the pictures inside stirring his emotions. He sat now in class, waiting in anticipation of his meeting with Professor Fletcher.
The second day of Survival in the Magical World was spent as an introduction to First Aid. As the lesson dragged on, Harry began to have an even greater sense of respect for Madam Pomfrey, the school's nurse. Attending Hogwarts almost ensured some form of injury and Harry had spent a great deal of time in her care. She had healed his every malady, from Dementor attacks to having to re-grow every single bone in his arm during his second year. Through it all, she seemed to do it effortlessly, and Harry had always assumed that it was indeed that simple. He was learning now that it was not so.
Professor Fletcher had spent a great deal of time defining many of the basic forms of magical healthcare. There was the potions aspect, in which a spell could be imbued into a solution for use by anyone in a time of need. The other and more efficient form included actual spells in which healing energy was transferred through a wand. This was much more likely to save a patient, but it was much more difficult and required a great deal of training and skill. While Ron seemed to have a bit of trouble grasping some of the concepts, Hermione took to it like a duck in water. Harry himself felt that he understood most of it. He had no idea how well Darien took to it, for he did not speak at all during the lesson, spending the entire time listening intently to Professor Fletcher's lecture and jotting down notes.
Professor Fletcher spent the first half of the class going over anatomy, conjuring up a faceless cadaver on his desk. Most of the students felt unsettled by parts of the lecture as the professor went over the crucial structure of muscle tissue and bone structure. The professor finished the lecture like this:
"As I said yesterday, there are two ways to use this information. Knowing perfect anatomy of a being can help you to heal it and treat its wounds. But it can also make you a more efficient killer. Keep that in mind when you're on the battlefield."
The class ended and the students began to file out. Harry gathered his things and waited for the other students to leave before he made his way over to Professor Fletcher's desk.
"Ah, thank you for coming, Harry," Fletcher said. "I truly appreciate that you're giving up some of your free time in this way."
"Oh, think nothing of it, Professor," Harry said. He began to relax at hearing Professor Fletcher speaking with a calm and amiable voice, much different from the one he had used the day before.
"Please, come into my office," Fletcher said. He rose and walked to the back of the class, where he opened the door and gestured for Harry to come inside.
Harry entered and observed his surroundings. The room was dimly lit by several candles and a low fire burned in a fireplace on the right side of the room, which had a very earthy feel to it. The wood of choice was oak and there were two matching recliners made of dark brown tooled leather. The mantle above the fire place held an assortment of gold and silver helms which had been molded to resemble the heads of dragons. The walls on either side of the fireplace were ornamented with swords over a coat of arms. On the other side of the room was a great bookshelf that held great tomes with spines as thick as Harry's rucksack. The back of the room was filled by an untidy wooden desk, which was laden with parchments, quills, and an occasional blueberry muffin. Behind the desk was a shelf that was filled to the brim with bottles, most of which contained a variety of liquors and wine.
As Harry stood in the center of the room, he heard a soft growl behind him. He turned and was face by a snow white dog with wolf-like features. The dog's teeth were bared and his fur stood on end. Harry could see the dog's powerful leg muscles bunch as it prepared to spring at Harry.
"Quiet, Tasha," said Professor Fletcher. "He's a friend."
The wolf immediately stopped growling but did not take its intense eyes off of Harry. It walked closer to him and Harry instinctively stepped back until he hit the desk. The wolf began to sniff at Harry for a few moments until it went back into it's corner. Professor Fletcher began to chuckle.
"Well, it looks as though she's given you her stamp of approval," he said. Harry just kept staring uneasily at the wolf.
"Please sit, Harry," said the professor. Harry sat on one end of the professor's desk while he walked over to where the bottles of alcohol sat. He began to pour himself a drink.
"Do you want something to drink?" asked the Professor without turning to face Harry.
"You wouldn't happen to have a butterbeer would you?" Harry asked, a little unsure of himself.
Professor Fletcher turned his face to look at Harry. He could see that the professor had a small smile on his face.
"I believe I can scrounge one up for you," he said. The professor set about mixing his drink, eventually pulling out a bottle of butterbeer from under the counter. He turned around and sat down at his desk before handing Harry the bottle. Professor Fletcher leaned back in his large leather chair and raised his glass.
"'Chapter 4, article 13, subsection 56, rule 4, of the Hogwarts Faculty Handbook,'" he began. "'No teacher shall imbibe alcohol while within the castle walls.' Here's to rules."
He downed the glass of whiskey and Harry took a tug on his butterbeer. The warm liquid warmed him to his core.
"So," said Professor Fletcher. "Did you bring the album?"
"Yes, sir," said Harry. He reached into his rucksack and brought out the leather photo album. He gave it to Professor Fletcher. The professor began to leaf through the pages, shuffling through dozens of pictures until he stopped at a certain page. His eyes were wide with shock and his mouth hung open. He leaned away from the album but kept his unblinking eyes on the book.
"I haven't seen this picture in over 15 years," he mused. "God, when you say it like that…"
Harry leaned over to look at the picture. It was different than the others on the page. It had not been enchanted so that the people inside the photo could move and talk. It was a normal still photo of two men. On Harry recognized as his father. The other man Harry did not know. The man's face was covered with blood and Harry could see he was missing several teeth from the weak grin he was giving. The man leaned heavily against his father, James Potter supporting most of the other man's weight. Behind them Harry could see an ancient brick fortress, moss clinging on the spires. Harry turned his eyes back to the man in the photograph. Then Harry realized who the man was.
It was Professor Fletcher.
"You knew my father?" Harry blurted out. The professor slowly nodded his head.
"I knew him very well," he said. "We went to Hogwarts together."
"Did you know Sirius Black?" asked Harry.
"Yes I did," answered the professor. "I knew them both very well. We all go back a long way."
There was a long silence. Beginning to feel uncomfortable, Harry decided to inquire about the castle.
"Where was this picture taken?" he asked.
For a long time, the professor didn't answer. When he spoke, his voice sounded much deeper and pained.
"Years ago, I was a member of the elite forces of the Ministry of Magic. I was highly decorated, considered to be a shining example of what made the perfect soldier. When Voldemort began to raise followers, the Minister at that time decided that he wanted to know as much as he could about this new threat growing in the southeast. So they sent me in, undercover.
I was captured."
He stared right at Harry, making the pupil feel quite uncomfortable. It was several moments before the old soldier continued his tale.
"I was taken to Fort Svitzen on the Yugoslavian-Bulgarian border. It used to be controlled by the UMN(United Magical Nations) as a type of "peace-keeping" fortification, but by then it was controlled by Voldemort's forces. I was considered a high-priority operative, but the thing was that my operation was so secret that I couldn't even send a distress signal.
"Anyway, they took me to that godforsaken place and tortured me. Not interrogated but tortured. I'd been trained to suppress the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, so they were forced to use more…conventional means."
Here he brought his hand up to his cheek and traced his long scar with his finger down the left side of his face. Harry gulped and became self- conscious of his own scar.
"They did things to me that I can't even describe. Yet, through the entire ordeal, they didn't ask me one question. They tortured me for the sake of torture. They enjoyed my screams. The other men in the fort must have used it like a lullaby. I went three weeks like that with the same routine, until they tried something different.
They brought in a Dementor."
Harry's heart sank. Dementors were Harry's greatest fear. They brought about the worst memories in a person's heart, and whenever one came close to Harry, he remembered the night that his parents were murdered. A Dementor was an abomination, the opposite of life itself. The professor poured himself another drink before continuing.
"I was a warrior. I'd been on the battle field many times. I'd seen my comrades fall under the onslaught of our enemies. The Dementor had plenty of nightmares to feed off of from me. It stayed with me for another four days before I knew that the time had come when it had tired of me. It decided to give me the…the Kiss."
The Kiss of the Dementor was the Dementor's most horrible ability. It brought its face down to the victim and sucked out his or her soul. It was worse than death.
"I knew what was coming. But then, right when the thing was probably puckering up…your father burst through the door and destroyed the Dementor with his Patronus. The Ministry had clued into the fact that I was in trouble after not reporting in for so long. By that time, the war had begun and people had either rallied behind Voldemort or against him. James had suggested that we moved to liberate Fort Svitzen but his superiors disagreed; they felt the risk was to great. He went against orders and led a small force to take back the fort and save me in the process. This picture was taken the day of the Liberation.
I made a solemn pledge that day. I swore fealty to your father. I promised to serve him loyally until I was dead, for only then could my debt be repaid. I stayed with him for a long time and we fought many glorious battles together. When Dumbledore suggested that James go into hiding, I understood that I could not follow him and that I could not be his Secret Keeper for the Fidelus Charm. I went to fight the war.
When I heard of your father and mother's death, I was heartbroken. I felt that I would never be able to repay him. I left the army and went into the cold recesses of Norway where I lived alone for fourteen years. But then Dumbledore told me about Voldemort's return and so I returned."
"You came back for that?" asked Harry.
"I came back for several reasons," answered the professor. "I knew that I could do more good teaching the younger wizards to protect themselves than simply going off and fighting the war by myself. Because of that, I took up Dumbledore's offer of a teaching position instead of on the warfront. I also discovered that you were still alive."
Here there was a pause. Harry knew where the professor was going with this.
"I can't repay my debt to your father," he said. "So now I will protect you."
Harry was speechless. He didn't know what to think.
"Don't worry," said the professor. "I'm not going to get involved with your personal life. Just be assured that I'll be keeping my eye out for you."
At that moment, an alarm clock on Professor Fletcher's desk went off, startling both of them. The professor cleared his throat.
"Look at the time," he said. "You should run along for supper. I don't want you to go hungry. Here, take your album."
Harry took the book and placed it back inside his rucksack. He stood and started for the door. The professor's voice behind Harry stopped him.
"Harry," started Professor Fletcher. "I truly enjoyed this. Do you think we could meet again like this tomorrow?"
Harry turned around, contemplating the question. Finally, he gave his answer.
"Sure," he said. "I'll look forward to it."
With that, Harry ran out and met up with his friends to eat dinner. He discussed the meeting with his friends.
"Wow," said Ron, his mouth full of mashed potatoes. "A real war hero, huh?"
"He's an amazing man," said Darien. He was starting on his steak. "We can all learn a lot from him. I just hope we can survive the class itself."
"I can't believe how much we're going to learn," said Hermione, picking at her salad. "I've already read all the books he put on our reading list and I can't believe he thinks were capable of performing those kinds of spells."
"I just want to learn about my father from him," said Harry. He wasn't eating anything. His meeting with Professor Fletcher hadn't sat well with his stomach.