Albus clapped his hands three times, and twenty-five ghostly figures
appeared in the dome with him, as his opponents.
One of the figures raised his wand and fired a curse, while the others began closing in on him.
Harry's head snapped up from his meditative stance, and eyeing the curse, dodged to the side in a mid-air roll, firing a hex at the offender before sidestepping, unsheathing his sword while turning in a deft motion to face another opponent that had snuck up behind him.
Harry's face broke out in a feral grin. The fun had just begun...
Harry ducked under the offending figure's punch, before swinging his sword in a diagonal upward slash, banishing him from the fight. Immediately after completing his swing, or a continuation of it, depending on whom you would ask, he jumped into a back flip over a streak of red light that would have struck him had he stayed immobile one second more. Instead of landing, however, he planted both feet on the chest of his next victim, kicking off high into the air while firing a reducto curse to gain more altitude, obliterating the conjured opponent in the process.
Twenty-two left..
Once in the Air, he quickly sheathed this sword and pulled his body into a spin, legs locked and strait with his toes pointing, his arms locked straight held high over his head with palms flat. He pulled hard and began turning on his 'Z' axis, so that at mid-leap his outstretched hands were pointing at the floor, toes pointing towards the ceiling. It was in this position that he rained down destruction on the arena.
Using the wands in his holsters, positioned in a way so that they could be used without having to grasp them, he fired a volley of destructive curses at the ground below, sometimes striking opponents, sometimes not.
As he descended from his short flight, he finished his rotation drawing the Gryffindor sword and bringing it down upon another ghostly defender, cleaving him in two. The halves drifted away and apart as if they were white smoke before even touching the ground.
Twelve left..
Harry turned to face the remainder of his opponents, deciding on his next action, as there were none close enough to him to fight instantly. He would have to approach.
Eight curses seemed to be cast almost simultaneously, and an assortment of different hexes made their way towards where he now stood. Dropping to a forward somersault and rolling underneath them, he popped up and swung his sword in a wide arc, unceremoniously decapitating the ghost on his right. At the same time this happened, he fired a disarming charm with the wand in his left holster, making the figure there drop the staff she was holding and sailing back through the edge of the erected safety dome, where she lost her form. Ring-outs apparently count.
Ten left..
Three of the figures closed around him as soon as he landed, each brandishing a sword. A fast and furious fight broke out, with Harry trying to defend himself from three different attack fronts. Using his sword and strategically placed slaps to the flats of the other blades with his free hands, Harry held his own. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the figure that was at an eight o'clock position over extend himself for a strike. He quickly parried the thrust from the apparition in front of him to the right, while throwing a blind banishing charm out of his left-hand wand that he knew if aimed right, would be indefensible in his current state. The parried thrust of the foremost ghost had struck the figure to his right, dispatching that attacker inadvertently in the process. Harry spun into a crouching sweep, taking the last of the circle from his feet, before impaling him through the heart. He pulled his sword from the floor, turning quickly to face the survivors.
Seven left.
All Seven fired curses at him, at a myriad of angles determined to strike him. Harry hopped and contorted his body into a strange position, having the first four curses sail by him. Once he landed, the side-stepped to his left, and swung Godric's Sword as a bat, catching one of the curses in the process and sending it back at the caster. The explosive curse struck it's own caster in the face, sending a blast that annihilated not only the target, but the figures to the caster's left and right.
Four left.
Harry used the distraction to sheathe his sword and run up to the remaining four. Twisting deftly and parrying blows while returning his own, he soon had the upper hand. Kick to the left. Dodge two blows at head level by doing a crouch sweep on the figure behind him. Parry a knife stab intended for his midsection from the man on the right while delivering a vicious hand-strike to the collarbone of the offender in front of him. A staff swung in an overhead arc at him, to which Harry caught it, kicked the opponent in the solar plexus, and planting the conjured staff into the ground. Harry spun around on the upright staff, kicking two opponents before landing, then reversing direction and slamming the staff into another's side. He then spun the staff, twisting it using his wrist, bringing it up over his head. Grappling with his other hand to steady the weapon, he then brought the staff down with a full force blow to the only figure left standing. Up-righting himself from his crouched position, he let the staff fall to the floor as he gazed downward, watching the last four opponents waft away.
Harry then bent over, bracing himself with his hands on his knees, and took deep breaths, trying to get some oxygen to his overworked muscles. Finally able to stand upright again, he carefully took a look at the rest of the class. Each one was staring, no, GAWKING at the almost supernatural display of concentration, agility, and downright deadliness. Littered on the floor, around the feet of the gawking students, were an assortment of wands, books, quills, and other such things, presumably held by the students at some point before being forgotten about and dropped. He finally found the student he was looking for, his daughter.
Lily couldn't shut her mouth either, but he looked in her eyes and found something different from the others. Not fear, like the rest, but awe, which the rest certainly did have, and.. pride. An all encompassing feeling of pride, that the man who just did all those superhuman things was her father, and that she new that there was nothing to fear from the man as long as you didn't attack him or those he loves.
A light, rhythmic clapping began from doorway, and there stood Hermione, walking towards him clapping while brandishing a white towel on her shoulder leaving Draco Malfoy and Evan Flint frozen in the entryway looking much like the students surrounding the ring. The only difference was that young Mr. Flint had a lot more fear than awe in his eyes.
Hermione walked right up to him and handed him the towel. "That was even more impressive than the display you put on for us in seventh year. Fantastic Harry!" Harry wiped the sweat from his face while she was talking, and was wiping down his chest when he got a good look at her face. She had a sad, almost defeated look about her, and a wistful look in her eyes. Certainly not the image that should have matched the tone in her voice. He slowed down toweling himself off, contemplating what she must be feeling.
"Just how long were you watching, 'Mione?" he asked, trying to find out the cause of her discomfort.
"Since you took your shirt off..." She replied, her eyes starting to tear up.
"And so.." Harry looked around himself, seeing the female D.A. members staring at his chest, a few were even drooling. Recognition dawned upon Harry's face. "You think that I'm too young for you now, don't you?" he whispered, so that only she could hear.
A tear broke loose as Hermione pulled up to hug him, sobbing on his shoulder. Harry, always having been slight of frame, pulled her back and looked up into her eyes. "You think that I should be with one of these.. These GIRLS?" he emphasized the word girl, while still whispering, to begin making his point.
She nodded, averting her eyes.
"'Mione, what year was I born?" he asked.
"1980." she whispered back, not trusting her voice.
"And what year were you born?"
"Nineteen-Eighty" she replied again.
"Therefore, I am just as old as you are, 'Mione. You said it yourself. We have a beautiful, smart daughter. Together. If you think I'm going to let another second slip by without the both of you in my life, you are sadly mistaken." He then grabbed his fiancée, gently, with a hand on either side of her face, and kissed her full on the mouth.
Hermione was shocked at first, but then all the old feelings she had been harboring since the night Harry disappeared came flooding back to the surface. She ran her left hand up into his hair, intertwining it with her fingers, while her right hand drifted down to come to rest on his left buttock.
In a daring move the Hermione of fifteen years ago would never have done, she dipped him over, giving him a forceful, yet passionate kiss the aggression of which Harry had never seen from her beforehand. She up righted him after a few moments only to break the kiss and look into his eyes with a lustful gaze until a gentle cough interrupted them.
Both blushing to the depths of their respective beings, they realized that the entire display was witnessed by the entirety of the room.
"That was most impressive Harry, most impressive indeed." The headmaster began. I didn't know that you could do wandless magic. Only a handful of wizards and witches in history have accomplished such a feat. Even Tom Riddle himself was dependant upon his wand!"
Harry chuckled out loud. "Look, Albus, I didn't do any wandless magic. I just had the wands tucked into the holsters on my wrists so I could keep my hands free."
The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes seemed to intensify even more so than before. "Wands? Where did the other come from?"
"Riddle's wand. I grabbed it when I gathered Godric's sword. I figured if I used it once before, I could do it again. Effective, wouldn't you agree?" Harry was obviously enjoying how wrong Albus had interpreted events.
"Harry, first of all, do you think I would keep Voldemort's" there was a sharp intake of air from some of the students, "wand out in the open? That wand is a replica of your own, but with one major difference. There is no core. For all intents and purposes, that 'wand' is merely a finely polished stick. Secondly, people can't do magic with a wand unless it is in their hand. You, my friend, have not only managed to cast spells without a wand, but different spells between the two hands. Did you not notice that you used no incantations, or wand movements to use any of your magic?"
Harry's grin at having finally gotten one over on the headmaster (or so he thought) began to falter at the beginning of Dumbledore's speech, becoming more and more a state of shock as all the blood left his face.
Perhaps the wizened mage hadn't interpreted things so wrongly after all...
One of the figures raised his wand and fired a curse, while the others began closing in on him.
Harry's head snapped up from his meditative stance, and eyeing the curse, dodged to the side in a mid-air roll, firing a hex at the offender before sidestepping, unsheathing his sword while turning in a deft motion to face another opponent that had snuck up behind him.
Harry's face broke out in a feral grin. The fun had just begun...
Harry ducked under the offending figure's punch, before swinging his sword in a diagonal upward slash, banishing him from the fight. Immediately after completing his swing, or a continuation of it, depending on whom you would ask, he jumped into a back flip over a streak of red light that would have struck him had he stayed immobile one second more. Instead of landing, however, he planted both feet on the chest of his next victim, kicking off high into the air while firing a reducto curse to gain more altitude, obliterating the conjured opponent in the process.
Twenty-two left..
Once in the Air, he quickly sheathed this sword and pulled his body into a spin, legs locked and strait with his toes pointing, his arms locked straight held high over his head with palms flat. He pulled hard and began turning on his 'Z' axis, so that at mid-leap his outstretched hands were pointing at the floor, toes pointing towards the ceiling. It was in this position that he rained down destruction on the arena.
Using the wands in his holsters, positioned in a way so that they could be used without having to grasp them, he fired a volley of destructive curses at the ground below, sometimes striking opponents, sometimes not.
As he descended from his short flight, he finished his rotation drawing the Gryffindor sword and bringing it down upon another ghostly defender, cleaving him in two. The halves drifted away and apart as if they were white smoke before even touching the ground.
Twelve left..
Harry turned to face the remainder of his opponents, deciding on his next action, as there were none close enough to him to fight instantly. He would have to approach.
Eight curses seemed to be cast almost simultaneously, and an assortment of different hexes made their way towards where he now stood. Dropping to a forward somersault and rolling underneath them, he popped up and swung his sword in a wide arc, unceremoniously decapitating the ghost on his right. At the same time this happened, he fired a disarming charm with the wand in his left holster, making the figure there drop the staff she was holding and sailing back through the edge of the erected safety dome, where she lost her form. Ring-outs apparently count.
Ten left..
Three of the figures closed around him as soon as he landed, each brandishing a sword. A fast and furious fight broke out, with Harry trying to defend himself from three different attack fronts. Using his sword and strategically placed slaps to the flats of the other blades with his free hands, Harry held his own. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the figure that was at an eight o'clock position over extend himself for a strike. He quickly parried the thrust from the apparition in front of him to the right, while throwing a blind banishing charm out of his left-hand wand that he knew if aimed right, would be indefensible in his current state. The parried thrust of the foremost ghost had struck the figure to his right, dispatching that attacker inadvertently in the process. Harry spun into a crouching sweep, taking the last of the circle from his feet, before impaling him through the heart. He pulled his sword from the floor, turning quickly to face the survivors.
Seven left.
All Seven fired curses at him, at a myriad of angles determined to strike him. Harry hopped and contorted his body into a strange position, having the first four curses sail by him. Once he landed, the side-stepped to his left, and swung Godric's Sword as a bat, catching one of the curses in the process and sending it back at the caster. The explosive curse struck it's own caster in the face, sending a blast that annihilated not only the target, but the figures to the caster's left and right.
Four left.
Harry used the distraction to sheathe his sword and run up to the remaining four. Twisting deftly and parrying blows while returning his own, he soon had the upper hand. Kick to the left. Dodge two blows at head level by doing a crouch sweep on the figure behind him. Parry a knife stab intended for his midsection from the man on the right while delivering a vicious hand-strike to the collarbone of the offender in front of him. A staff swung in an overhead arc at him, to which Harry caught it, kicked the opponent in the solar plexus, and planting the conjured staff into the ground. Harry spun around on the upright staff, kicking two opponents before landing, then reversing direction and slamming the staff into another's side. He then spun the staff, twisting it using his wrist, bringing it up over his head. Grappling with his other hand to steady the weapon, he then brought the staff down with a full force blow to the only figure left standing. Up-righting himself from his crouched position, he let the staff fall to the floor as he gazed downward, watching the last four opponents waft away.
Harry then bent over, bracing himself with his hands on his knees, and took deep breaths, trying to get some oxygen to his overworked muscles. Finally able to stand upright again, he carefully took a look at the rest of the class. Each one was staring, no, GAWKING at the almost supernatural display of concentration, agility, and downright deadliness. Littered on the floor, around the feet of the gawking students, were an assortment of wands, books, quills, and other such things, presumably held by the students at some point before being forgotten about and dropped. He finally found the student he was looking for, his daughter.
Lily couldn't shut her mouth either, but he looked in her eyes and found something different from the others. Not fear, like the rest, but awe, which the rest certainly did have, and.. pride. An all encompassing feeling of pride, that the man who just did all those superhuman things was her father, and that she new that there was nothing to fear from the man as long as you didn't attack him or those he loves.
A light, rhythmic clapping began from doorway, and there stood Hermione, walking towards him clapping while brandishing a white towel on her shoulder leaving Draco Malfoy and Evan Flint frozen in the entryway looking much like the students surrounding the ring. The only difference was that young Mr. Flint had a lot more fear than awe in his eyes.
Hermione walked right up to him and handed him the towel. "That was even more impressive than the display you put on for us in seventh year. Fantastic Harry!" Harry wiped the sweat from his face while she was talking, and was wiping down his chest when he got a good look at her face. She had a sad, almost defeated look about her, and a wistful look in her eyes. Certainly not the image that should have matched the tone in her voice. He slowed down toweling himself off, contemplating what she must be feeling.
"Just how long were you watching, 'Mione?" he asked, trying to find out the cause of her discomfort.
"Since you took your shirt off..." She replied, her eyes starting to tear up.
"And so.." Harry looked around himself, seeing the female D.A. members staring at his chest, a few were even drooling. Recognition dawned upon Harry's face. "You think that I'm too young for you now, don't you?" he whispered, so that only she could hear.
A tear broke loose as Hermione pulled up to hug him, sobbing on his shoulder. Harry, always having been slight of frame, pulled her back and looked up into her eyes. "You think that I should be with one of these.. These GIRLS?" he emphasized the word girl, while still whispering, to begin making his point.
She nodded, averting her eyes.
"'Mione, what year was I born?" he asked.
"1980." she whispered back, not trusting her voice.
"And what year were you born?"
"Nineteen-Eighty" she replied again.
"Therefore, I am just as old as you are, 'Mione. You said it yourself. We have a beautiful, smart daughter. Together. If you think I'm going to let another second slip by without the both of you in my life, you are sadly mistaken." He then grabbed his fiancée, gently, with a hand on either side of her face, and kissed her full on the mouth.
Hermione was shocked at first, but then all the old feelings she had been harboring since the night Harry disappeared came flooding back to the surface. She ran her left hand up into his hair, intertwining it with her fingers, while her right hand drifted down to come to rest on his left buttock.
In a daring move the Hermione of fifteen years ago would never have done, she dipped him over, giving him a forceful, yet passionate kiss the aggression of which Harry had never seen from her beforehand. She up righted him after a few moments only to break the kiss and look into his eyes with a lustful gaze until a gentle cough interrupted them.
Both blushing to the depths of their respective beings, they realized that the entire display was witnessed by the entirety of the room.
"That was most impressive Harry, most impressive indeed." The headmaster began. I didn't know that you could do wandless magic. Only a handful of wizards and witches in history have accomplished such a feat. Even Tom Riddle himself was dependant upon his wand!"
Harry chuckled out loud. "Look, Albus, I didn't do any wandless magic. I just had the wands tucked into the holsters on my wrists so I could keep my hands free."
The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes seemed to intensify even more so than before. "Wands? Where did the other come from?"
"Riddle's wand. I grabbed it when I gathered Godric's sword. I figured if I used it once before, I could do it again. Effective, wouldn't you agree?" Harry was obviously enjoying how wrong Albus had interpreted events.
"Harry, first of all, do you think I would keep Voldemort's" there was a sharp intake of air from some of the students, "wand out in the open? That wand is a replica of your own, but with one major difference. There is no core. For all intents and purposes, that 'wand' is merely a finely polished stick. Secondly, people can't do magic with a wand unless it is in their hand. You, my friend, have not only managed to cast spells without a wand, but different spells between the two hands. Did you not notice that you used no incantations, or wand movements to use any of your magic?"
Harry's grin at having finally gotten one over on the headmaster (or so he thought) began to falter at the beginning of Dumbledore's speech, becoming more and more a state of shock as all the blood left his face.
Perhaps the wizened mage hadn't interpreted things so wrongly after all...