Author's Note: Revised chapter 7!!
begin the
training
When Harry awoke the next morning, he automatically reached for his eyeglasses. Fumbling as he pushed them into the correct position atop his nose, he sleepily peered around the room, for a moment, completely forgetting where he was. As the events of the previous night came rushing to him, he flopped back and stared at the disco ball that was spinning from its place on the ceiling.
I didn't have a dream last night. He sighed, watching the shadows change according to the direction of the flames wrapping his ceiling, and started to wrack his mind about the Order of the Phoenix. What was their goal? To destroy Voldemort, of course. But how? And what significance did the Phoenix Chant have? Did it give them special powers, that tingly thing?
Suddenly, unbidden in his mind, the fading memory of the initiation rose. Why had they been staring at him? And why had the Chant hurt so badly…but not, at the same time?
He slowly stood, stretching his stiff limbs and making his way towards the spacious bathroom, taking a nice, warm shower. Afterwards, he stood in front of the mirror, drying his hair with a towel. He stared at his reflection, noticing the still-dark bags under his eyes. Yet he felt a bit better—he wanted to get dressed and speak to the portrait of his parents for a bit before finding Sirius and getting a better idea of everything.
Dressing in his Hogwarts robes and uniform, mainly because all his muggle clothing was too large for him to wear comfortably, he went out of his room, down the narrow hall, and to the mini-common room. He was surprised to find Draco sitting on one of the comfortable couches, reclining as he sipped on icy water and flipped another page of a book he was reading.
Harry decided he might as well be polite and sat in the chair farthest from where Draco was sitting. "Good morning," Harry said, not knowing what else to say.
Draco gave a soft snort, not even looking up from his book. "It's already past noon."
Harry gave a shrug that Draco couldn't see, and leaned back. "Well, then, good afternoon."
When Draco didn't reply, Harry got up and exited from the portrait, letting it swing back and then facing it.
He turned to find the portrait empty, and figured that his portrait parents were probably either in their home in the further depths of the picture or visiting other portraits. Realizing he was disappointed, he gave himself a mental shake. They're dead, and you can't change that. Don't get too attached to the portrait. It's a stupid picture that talks. Do not get attached to a talking picture!
He jumped when the portrait swung backwards and almost hit him, and frowned as he saw Draco walking past it and shutting it. Draco walked past him, and continued down the stairs of the tower.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked, slightly hurrying to catch up.
"Moody. We have to meet him for training in fifteen minutes."
Harry frowned. "Why didn't you wake me up then?"
"I would have if you hadn't gotten up."
Harry was half-annoyed that Draco didn't tell him about the meeting and half-thankful that he had let him get some extra sleep. As he walked behind the slightly taller boy, he thought about the strange circumstance. He had never before had a normal—or what one could call normal—conversation with Draco, besides the very first time they met in Madam Malkin's robe shop. It was strange to be able to talk to him, to have to talk to him, to work with him. Most of the time he would be rude and disdainful. But there were those times…a few moments when he would seem like a normal teenage boy, his silver, normally stone-cold eyes sparkling mischievously, his pale face flushed with excitement. Then he would go being a Malfoy again and Harry would be absolutely sure that Dumbledore had made a serious mistake in trusting him.
He almost walked into Draco, and realized that they had stopped right in front of the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office.
"What're we here for?" Harry started to ask, but before he could finish the question, the gargoyle sprung back and Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody walked out. His face was just as scarred up as he remembered the impostor's to be, and gave an involuntary shudder as he remembered all the events that had taken place during the school year.
Mad-Eye Moody jumped at the sight of them so close, and took a moment to compose himself. He must be even more paranoid from last year, thought Harry.
Moody's glass eye fixed on him, as if knowing the reason for Harry's discomfort. "Come along, you two."
With that, Harry and Draco followed Mad-Eye Moody obediently to an empty classroom. When they had entered the room, Mad-Eye Moody turned around, shutting the door with a loud thump!
"Sit," he growled. Harry and Draco sat in the only two chairs in the room, both, incidentally facing forward as if they were in a grade-school classroom.
Moody started pacing as he spoke in a low, hoarse voice. "You, until term begins, will learn the essentials of combat. Simple, rudimentary, keys that will give you the upper hand in this war."
Moody suddenly stopped pacing and turned to face them; bending so he could be face to face with them. "You're going to need every ruddy skill you can muster. That means both magic and otherwise." He stood to his full height. "Give me your wands."
Reluctantly, Harry pulled his wand out of the pocket it had been jutting out of and handed it to Moody.
Moody pocketed both of the wands, then stepped back from them a few feet, his own wand still firmly in his hand. "If it comes down to it, by the time I'm finished, you will be quite competent opponents for the Death Eaters."
Turning, Moody opened the door of the classroom, and just as he stepped out, he flicked his wand at them.
The two chairs, as if the backs had gigantic magnets attached to them, spun a good ninety degrees, smacked the backs together loudly, and thin, strong, tight ropes wrapped themselves around the whole length of Harry and Draco's bodies, binding them to the chairs, and to each other.
"What are you doing, you—?!" Draco exclaimed furiously. Harry felt that it was a good idea that Draco couldn't hadn't thought of addressing Moody until after the man had smiled grimly then shut the door.
In silence, both boys could hear Moody's wooden leg hitting the stone floors as he walked down the hall. Moments later, the sound faded, leaving them with nothing but each other.
"Well…" Harry said dolefully, breaking the silence. "Can't say that I didn't expect something like this from him...."
"Shut up, Potter," Draco groaned. "How the hell are we supposed to get ourselves loose? That crazy man, he had this planned from the beginning!"
"No kidding," Harry snapped, not exactly in the mood to put up with Draco's whining. "At least he didn't turn us into ferrets."
The mention of that episode was enough to make Draco's cheeks flush with anger and his fists clench. "That was not funny!"
Harry, who hadn't even been slightly amused when he mentioned it, sniggered. "Yes it was! It was hilarious!"
"Potter!" Draco growled, "stop talking before I hex you!"
"Try to," Harry chuckled, "Ferret Boy."
Draco tried to rip himself from the grip of the ropes, and instead of loosening the ropes, he unbalanced the chairs, and almost toppled them both over.
"Stop it, Malfoy!" Harry growled, loosing patience. "Let's just try to do this calmly! The sooner we get loose, the better!"
"Fine," Draco replied, sulky but still defiant. "Do you think hopping the chair will work?"
"If we do hop someplace, we need something to cut the rope still," Harry replied. "Did you pay attention to where we are?"
"Portrait right next to the one for the kitchen," Draco replied mechanically. "If we can get into the kitchen, then we can tell one of the house elves to cut us loose."
"Isn't that cheating though?" Harry asked. "I thought we had to get out of this ourselves…"
"Look, Potter," Draco said impatiently, "this isn't the real thing, okay? Can you tell the difference between your imagination and reality? If the house elves let us loose now, it won't affect us when—if—we're ever in this kind of situation with Death Eaters."
"Yeah, right," Harry replied, his voice getting cold, "you're a fool, Malfoy, if you think that this doesn't have a point. Do you think that if Death Eaters capture us, that a house elf will come about and let us go? Do you think a Death Eater would let us go? The point of this, Malfoy, is to teach us how to escape this kind of thing on our own, without having to rely on luck."
Draco didn't have a reply to that, but still sulked. "I don't care," he shot, just for the sake of saying something to put down Potter. "If I asked to, the Death Eaters would take me and make me one of them. You'd die alone."
"Better die than become the slave of a murdering psychopath and renounce my humanity," Harry shot back vehemently. He wondered how Draco could expect the Death Eaters to take him in after knowing that he had betrayed them to Dumbledore.
Draco laughed at that. It was a hollow, empty laugh, but the dead amusement was clear. "You are such a Gryffindor, Potter," Draco said, his voice just as icy as Harry's was. "Such a dumb, idealistic idiot, you are." Draco stopped laughing, yet the smirk that was so dominant on his pointy face had reappeared, leaving a cruel expression on the young boy's face. "I never believed that you were special, Potter, not like anyone else. You're nothing. Whatever your mother did to save you worked, Potter, but it had absolutely nothing to do with you. Any baby would have survived that, with the charm."
Harry growled in retaliation, but didn't deny it. In fact, he believed that Draco was right, for the most part. It was what Harry himself believed to be the truth, anyway.
Draco laughed again, slowly, harshly. "You know, Potter, you're a Gryffindor, I can see that. But if there was any other house you'd belong to, it's Slytherin."
"I think of myself as a touch less evil, thank you," Harry said pointedly.
"Yeah, right, Potter," Draco sneered. "I've seen that look on your face after you win a Quidditch match, or when you get something done right. I've seen the look on your face when you're angry. You're a Parselmouth, for crying out loud. If I hadn't heard it out of my father's mouth what happened the night of the Third Task, I'd say that you did kill Diggory, it was your fault he was there after all—"
Suddenly the sound of breaking glass erupted all over the room. Desks flew all over the room, making loud, cracking noises as they hit the walls. Smaller objects crashed from their places to the floor. The temperature of the room seemed to drop a few notches.
Draco's wide eyes blinked, and slowly, as if he had traced the source, he tried to turn his head towards Harry. "You —" Draco paused, leaving the sentence unfinished.
Harry's eyes were blank, devoid of emotion, as he spoke back in a frigid, deadly tone. "Don't make me angry, Malfoy. I won't put up with you."
To this Draco had no harsh reply. "Look, Potter," he started uncomfortably, itching to get away from the Gryffindor boy. "I didn't…didn't mean what I said, all right? You didn't kill Diggory. I know what happened. You did—you did—well, you did what any stupid Gryffindor like yourself would do, all right?"
After a few moments of silence, Harry laughed—a quiet, hoarse laugh, as if he hadn't laughed in a long while. "I can't tell if you're trying to be nice or if you're trying to insult me."
"Insulting you is preferable over anything else," Draco grumped.
"Too bad it doesn't happen often, eh, Malfoy?"
Draco would really have liked to glare at Harry at this point, but couldn't, so he settled for banging his head backwards against Harry's head.
"Ow!" Harry said, ducking his head. "What'd you do that for, you prat?"
"Because I don't have a wand, I can't use my hands, and I really wanted to hurt you somehow," Draco replied, as if it were obvious.
"Oh, that's smart," Harry mused sarcastically, "just crack both our skulls, very clever, Malfoy, did you make that up yourself? I'll keep it in mind, you know, if we're caught by Death Eaters and tied together, I'll make sure to remember: don't panic—just crack your skull open! That'll solve a lot of problems, that will —"
"Stuff it!" Draco snapped, losing what had been the cobbled amount of patience he had mustered. He started struggling fiercely against the hold of the ropes.
"Make me," Harry replied dryly.
Draco eventually stopped struggling and the only thing either of them could hear was Draco's panting. Suddenly, near the corner of the classroom, there was a thump against the wall. Both Harry and Draco snapped their heads towards that wall. After a few moments of cautious listening, Draco asked, "What was that?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Harry asked absently, still peering suspiciously at the walls. There was one instance, in the Shrieking Shack, when Snape had sneaked in wearing James Potter's Invisibility Cloak (an heirloom from his father of Harry's) that related to this.
"Well, we must have just imagined it or something."
"There's someone there," Harry said flatly.
Draco looked hopeful. "Whoever is there, untie us now!"
As Draco kept demanding for someone to untie him, Harry stared at the wall, taking in everything about it. He was a seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the youngest in a century when he began—he had a knack for spotting things that others didn't. Patiently taking in every single inch of the wall, he stopped when his eyes rested on a very small hole.
"Hey, Malfoy," he said, sufficiently shutting the blond up. "Look over there, upper center of the wall…you see? That hole shouldn't be there."
Draco narrowed his eyes at the wall. "My father had one of these at the Manor, he told me about it, but I never found which wall it was. Potter, there are some spells you can put on a wall, so it's still there, but if you look at it from one side you can see through to the other side…this must be one of them."
"Great," Harry said dryly, "just great. And they won't let us go. Ugh."
"Potter?"
"What?"
"We have this training course every day." Draco's voice was hardened with determination.
"Yeah."
"I say we ambush Moody and give him some type of potion to forget we even exist."
Harry paused, and decided it wouldn't hurt just to think about it. "You think you could get Snape to help you with that? I don't reckon him liking anyone but you and Dumbledore, so he wouldn't mind much, would he?"
Draco cracked a smirk. "Snape would never risk an irritated Dumbledore."
"You know, whoever is on the other side of that wall is hearing all this."
"So hopefully," Draco replied with a faint drawl, "it won't be a goody-goody like your Godfather or Lupin…or McGonagall, or Hagrid, or, well…anyone but Snape. We would have heard Moody coming around the other way."
Harry frowned. "They're all ten times nicer than Snape. And I don't think Sirius would keep us from playing a prank…mind, he might want to help…."
"Oh, well," Draco replied wistfully. "It's not like a potion like that even exists."
Harry smirked. "With my dumb luck and your limited knowledge of potions, we might have a shot at making one."
"I'm better in Potions than you could ever hope to be," Draco sneered.
Harry would have shrugged if he could. "I'd be doing better if Snape wasn't failing me for the fun of it."
"Crabbe and Goyle do better than you do in Potions!" Draco exclaimed.
"That only serves to prove my point," Harry said dully. "Okay, since I think the ropes are cutting off my circulation, can we go back to trying to hop our way towards something sharp that will cut the rope?"
"Why bother?" asked Draco, "someone is sitting out there."
"Yeah, Malfoy," Harry retorted, "and obviously they're not helping us. So we have to find a way ourselves. Okay?"
Draco Malfoy gritted his teeth. He knew he would not enjoy this a single bit.
***
Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Diedra Diggle, Orpheus Sanders, and Severus Snape watched the two boys as they started chair-hopping towards the door. With all the noise the two were making, the adults felt it safe to talk.
"Amazing," Diedra said light-headedly, pushing her shoulder-length, wavy brown hair out of her bright hazel eyes. "Did—did I see what I think I saw?"
Orpheus nodded. "Yep." A bit taller than Diedra, he peered through pastel blue eyes through his somewhat long (about ear-length) dirty blond hair. With a calm disposition, Orpheus was a valuable Auror.
Diedra Diggle, meanwhile, was the only daughter of Dedalus Diggle, a small, cheerful, and hyperactive man that was one of England's leading transfiguration lecturers. She was just as excitable as her father, but had a constant fascination with dark creatures. Diedra was an Auror as well—her specialty, fighting dark creatures. She had a strange compassion for them, though.
Sirius, Remus, Diedra, Orpheus, and Severus had all gone to Hogwarts at the same time, all in the same year. They had been acquaintances, good friends one could say (save for Snape, who had devoted his school years to hating them all). After witnessing Harry's loss of control over his emotions, in which everything in the room broke or fell, the five adults had been stunned into silence.
Their original motive for watching the two boys was to see how they interacted with each other—to see how long it would take to train them, gouge the extent of their knowledge, their capability and such. None of them had expected what had happened.
They moved a few feet back to whisper.
"What was that?" Snape hissed as soon as he could. "Black, did you know Potter could do wandless magic to that extent?"
Sirius shook his head in wonder, his eyes fixed on Harry. "No."
Remus shook his head. "Okay, we should all stay calm about this —"
"He's a Parselmouth!" Diedra gushed excitedly, forgetting about the main point momentarily. "He can talk to snakes!"
Remus' calm expression remained steady, though his lips pressed thin, a habit Sirius was sure he had picked up from working around McGonagall. "Don't tell me you think just because of that the boy is evil?"
"No, silly," Diedra said in a goofy tone. "I mean he can talk to snakes! That's such a wonderful ability!"
Snape sneered. "Yet, you must admit, the boy is susceptible to becoming a great evil and has been showing the signs quite frequently —"
"Hey, now Severus —"
"Shut up, Snape," Sirius spat, interrupting Orpheus, and glaring at Snape even harder than Diedra. "Come on, we're going to the Phoenix Room, it's nearly time for the meeting."
They started walking down the large corridor in a tense silence. When they reached the portrait painting of Fawkes, the portrait swung open with a soft tweet. Seeing that everyone else was already gathered, they immediately took their seats around the table and glanced around.
"Now, for business," Orpheus began the discussion. "Hagrid, how is it with the Giants?"
"Ever'thin's goin' all righ'," Hagrid said with a slow nod. "Olympe's still workin' negotiations, but the Giants are leanin' our way."
"That's a relief," Flitwick chimed in, his voice squeaky as ever. "What about Fudge and the Ministry?"
"Still not believing it," Sirius said in a tired voice, which was much grimmer and more serious than usual. "I don't see them believing us until after a very grave situation."
"Can you tell us anything else? Something new?" McGonagall asked.
"The Dementors haven't been taken off Azkaban property yet, but they're getting restless," Flora Fritts admitted. Flora had long blond hair with light green eyes. She was specialized in strategy as an Auror, making her a prime member of the Order.
Chardae Moppins was a man with light brown eyes, and dark brown hair that was cut short. A talent at disguise, he was there to help the Order with incognito missions. He grunted. "If only Fudge would take a look at the world around him, he would see that the invasion has begun."
Mundungus Fletcher snorted derisively. "Even if Fudge did believe us, he's too dim-witted to do anything about it!" Fletcher was an older man, and had attended Hogwarts as a seventh year while Minerva McGonagall was in her first. He wasn't seeing quite well as he used to, but insisted that he needed no magical assistance or glasses. He was also absent-minded, and would forget things from time to time, but when he was in his element, he was a brilliant person when it came to distractions and stealth.
"Anything else so far?" No one had anything to say.
Moody turned to Sirius, Remus, Severus, Diedra, and Orpheus. "How're the boys?"
Sirius stood and started pacing as Remus calmly explained that after getting over their dismay at the situation, they had continued past that to bicker, threaten each other, and then to conspire against the Order; more specifically, against Moody himself. After trying and failing to suppress a grin at the alarmed Auror, Remus added, "But they've started trying to find something sharp to cut the rope."
"At least they're doing well," Flitwick remarked.
"No," Sirius said, so angrily and violently that everyone glanced up in shock. "Everything's not going well." He still hadn't stopped pacing. "He's blaming himself for what's happened, he's convinced that Diggory died because of him…. He doesn't understand his place in this, he doesn't understand how important he is in this, he's too young…" Sirius paused, running his hands through his hair.
If anyone had any doubts about Sirius Black's loyalties, this mere act of concern for his beloved godson confirmed that fact that Sirius was innocent of all charges and the good man they had always known.
Flora stood and patted Sirius arm, trying to calm him. "Sirius, he'll be fine, all right? We're all here for him, and we'll help him, okay?"
"No," Sirius moaned softly, resuming his pacing, "you don't know him. He's—he's practically identical to James, but so much more withdrawn…he's been through too much. He won't even talk to me anymore about things, constantly worries whether I'm going to get caught instead of worrying for himself, he's completely selfless —"
Severus let out a short, halting laugh. "You can't be serious," he scoffed. "Potter is nothing but a selfish, spoiled, brat. You are infatuated with him, just as you were with his swollen-headed father."
Sirius froze in his steps. Hagrid's startled expression went from disapproval to anger to fury. There was a silence in the room, deafening, and Remus Lupin stood. In such a fierce tone had no one ever heard Remus speak.
"You are a bitter man, Severus."
Those words, though simple and not very impressive in themselves, were enough to pale Severus. Snape's eyebrows creased, and he glared at Lupin with no less hatred than he had before.
Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat. "Keep it civil." Her voice was icy, and her stern expression held barely concealed anger. She had taught James Potter, and Lily Potter, for that matter, and she had been very fond of them, as she was with their son.
"Now then," Orpheus continued, trying to keep things smooth between everyone. "No matter the dispute, the child's protection is our main priority; Sirius, his emotional state is up to you. Leave any personal grudges you have out of this."
Sirius, throwing a glare at Snape and starting to pace again, nodded.
"Something else happened," Diedra Diggle said, speaking up for the first time during the meeting. Her voice was absent, lacking the usual warmth it contained; it was analytical. "I haven't seen it like that anywhere…." She took a deep breath. "There's something…different…about Harry…." She trailed off.
"What is it?" Arabella Figg asked sharply. She cared for Harry as her brother did, and did not take it lightly when something was wrong with him.
"He—he did wandless magic," Diedra trailed off.
Professor Flitwick shrugged. "Many magical children can do wandless magic to a certain extent—it's based on unconscious emotion. It's very normal."
Diedra shook her head adamantly. "No, no! There was something strange about it…you said it yourself, they can do wandless magic to a certain extent! And it fades, that power, it fades! His emotion, his anger, was not focused, Filius, it was simply immense! He trashed the room in a single moment! Don't you understand?"
"He was very angry," Snape said shrewdly. It was the first thing he had said after Remus's admonishment.
There was a tense silence, which Alastor Moody broke. "Yep, the lad's got power."
"He needs control," McGonagall snapped sternly. She sighed, massaging her temples. "Harry never seems any different than any of the other children I teach," she said slowly. "He's not the exceptional student. He doesn't apply himself. He's not like Lily or James in that aspect—he's not brilliant in his studies."
"He was excellent at Defense," Remus said, his eyes far away, as if they were focused on something only he could see. "Best among all my students, actually…. His Patronus must have been incredibly powerful, to fend off those Dementors while I taught him…he learned it in a very short amount of time."
"And what about the initiation?" Chardae asked, thoughtfully chewing on his lower lip. "The symbol, the fire, the glow—it was all bigger than meant to be. What does that mean?"
"He's the Key," Remus said, his expression terse, his eyebrows knitted. "The Key to Furmat—which is completely logical, as James before him was the Key as well—but there was still something different about it…."
"The honor of the Key isn't hereditary, is it?" Flora asked.
Professor Flitwick shook his head. "It shouldn't be at all, but of course it all depends on the bloodline. But besides that point, no one since Gryffindor himself accessed the Phoenix Gate. Maybe if we could find records, we might be able to access —"
Sirius brought his head up sharply. "Are you saying that Harry can access the Phoenix Gate?" His anger was boiling inside him, and this just added to the trouble, and he didn't even want to stop to consider. "I'm not letting him do anything involving the Order, period."
Hagrid growled, softly. "'Arry's not going ter be pleased," Hagrid pointed out, kindly. "'e'll figure i' out. 'e'd like ter know from yeh."
"He's just a child!" Sirius snapped, unable to control his anger.
"He's not so much anymore," a voice suddenly spoke out. The startled Order turned to find Albus Dumbledore situated in a deep corner of the room, his long, slender fingers knit together. He was looking at the wall as if seeing something that wasn't there, looking completely past them as he spoke.
"He's not a child anymore. He's seen things that would terrify any grown and accomplished wizard, things that would reduce them into nothing. He's been through more than that's imaginable—parents dead at the age of one, living with a family that hated him for being different. In his first year, he had only barely started getting used to the idea of being famous for something he didn't understand—didn't remember—and his first encounter with Voldemort since he can remember. Second year, he was accused of all the crimes that were committed by the Heir of Slytherin, and all the students in the school had turned against him since he was a Parseltongue. Third year—Dementors. Every time one came near he would hear and see Voldemort murdering his parents. Just recently in his fourth year, after the Third Task—he dueled with Voldemort, saw his parents' ghosts, saw a friend die right beside him."
Dumbledore turned his head slightly to face everyone, and radiating that power of his, he said in a quietly fierce tone, "Harry is not a child. Honor what he has done, and honor what he has sacrificed. Treat him as the member of the Order he is."
After a heavy silence, in which everyone debated within themselves, knowing that no matter what, they couldn't let danger come to the boy.
***
"We're not getting anywhere."
"No kidding."
There was a long silence between the two boys.
"Well," Harry said, trying to muster as much cheer into his voice as he could. "They're going to have to come to feed us eventually."
Draco groaned.
At one point, while Harry was trying to figure out a way to turn the doorknob of the classroom, Draco had accidentally unbalanced the chairs. They had slammed into the door hard, both completely bowling the door over, and had been knocked sideways to the floor.
Harry heard a sound vibrating through the stone floor, a loud thumping sound of some sort…. He felt a shadow fall over him, and tilted his head until he could look up.
Sirius was standing over him with a feral grin on his face. "Hello, Harry."
training
end
A/N: Ah… I'm armed with the cut option, narrowing out my chapters!! Bwahaha! Evil shortening! Anyway… If you'd like to be on my mailing list, please leave a review or e-mail me. And please review :) I love hearing from you!
~ Jedi Cosmos ~
