On Your Mark

By Arlo

Chapter 12- Black Knight

            The nightmare had started out as usual, seeing Sirius and Bellatrix duel and watching in fear as his Godfather fell backwards through the veil and disappear forever. This time though, Sirius came back and pleaded with Harry to come and join him. Even the dream Harry felt his scar prickle and burn, and somewhere in the back of his subconscious mind, he knew this was no longer his nightmare alone. He struggled and moaned trying to force himself awake. A burst of pain and a scream came from the bed at the same time as a loud bang from the fireplace across the room.

            Harry woke with a start, clapping his hand to his forehead, and surveyed the room. He had fallen asleep with his contacts in so he could clearly see the seeker in the portrait snoozing on his broom, and the glowing outlines of the stars on the ceiling. He heard footsteps coming toward him, but seeing no one, he raised his hand for Remus to stop. He did not want him to interfere yet, he wanted to try to do this himself. Harry took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. In again-'Pad' and out once more-'foot'. In-'Pad' and slowly out 'foot'. Gradually his breathing slowed rhythmically 'Pad---foot', 'Pad-------foot', 'Pad--------------foot'. His mind became blank except for the mantra. He could vaguely still feel a prickling sensation in his scar, but he knew he was now in control.

            Harry lost all track of time, eventually opening his eyes when the odd feeling in his forehead had subsided. It was nearing 2 a.m., "Remus?"

            "Right here, Harry. You did great! That was some meditative trance you were in! Maybe you should try and get some sleep. I'll stay right here."

            "He's not done yet," the young man stated almost mechanically. "He's frustrated. He's going to try again."

            Remus looked at him curiously from under the invisibility cloak, as Harry picked up Snuffles, the stuffed dog, laid back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. Not more than ten minutes later, Harry felt his head explode. Tears came to his eyes which he tried to blink away to keep looking up at the Dog Star. 'He's watching me,' he thought. "I love you Sirius!" he cried out loud to the painted sky. His heart filled and his head cleared a bit. Voldemort had retreated quickly, but not completely. Harry continued to hug Snuffles and stare at the ceiling, breathing slowly, rhythmically and remembering the love he and his Godfather had shared. Fighting back each time the pictures of the veil, the chamber, his parents and the graveyard floated unbidden into his thoughts, he kept up his meditations. Finally, as the sky outside started to glow orange and red and the sky inside turned to blue with fluffy white clouds, he knew it was safe to fall asleep.

            Whispered voices disturbed the silence and Harry cracked one eye open. Bright sunlight was streaming in the window and he turned away. Kingsley and Remus were talking quietly by the fire, and Remus got up from the chair and stretched. Glancing over at the supposedly sleeping teenager, he left the room to get some real sleep himself, leaving Kingsley on watch duty. Harry fell back into a deep sleep, waking a few hours later to an empty room. He got up, showered and dressed and went downstairs to eat. It had been a very long night and he was starving!

            Two things surprised him as he entered the dining room. First, there were streamers and balloons all over and a big banner draped above the window that read 'Happy Birthday, Harry!' He had completely forgotten about his sixteenth birthday! The second surprise was not quite as pleasant, as Severus Snape was sitting at the table staring malevolently at him as he entered the room. Fortunately, Kingsley and Remus were also present. "Good morning, Professors!" Harry greeted with a huge smile, as Snape narrowed his eyes and glared at him curiously.

            "Happy birthday, Harry! Remus exclaimed, coming over and clapping him on the back. "How did you sleep?"

            "Thanks! Fine, I'm really hungry, though!"

            "Fine?" Snape sneered staring warily at the boy, no, young man in the doorway. The change in him was evident. Gone were the baggy and worn out clothes, the beat up glasses and the messy hair. He seemed to have grown in stature, self-confidence and power. But the potions master still saw James Potter's son, standing there and let loose his usual glowering comments. "You slept like a baby? All night? How lovely! Some of us were up all night trying to defend you and themselves from the wrath of the Dark Lord!"

            Harry glared at him but didn't rise to the bait. "Professor," he said politely, "I know you are well aware of my sleeping habits, having been inside my most private thoughts last year. But since you seem so concerned, I fell asleep at dawn and slept quite well until about a half an hour ago, when I got up, showered and washed my hair."  Harry couldn't hold back his smirk at the last part and turned to Remus, to see a similar expression on the werewolf's face. Snape, however wasn't amused. He got up from the table and limped toward the young man. Harry noticed that his face was bruised and his eyes bloodshot, he was holding his right arm loosely by his side, and grimaced as he pushed past Harry and into the entry hall.

            "I'm glad you finally learned occulmency, Potter. It's too bad it was too late to keep your friends from getting hurt and to save your precious Godfather!"

            Harry felt his anger well up inside of him, before he knew it, Snape was launched backwards into the hall, landing on his back. "It's too bad I didn't have a better teacher, Professor," he spat and headed into the library, straight into Albus Dumbledore, who looked as angry as Harry still felt.

            "Stay there," the Headmaster told him, pointing to a chair by the fire, and storming out into the entry hall.

            Harry could hear angry voices, jumbled in a mix of explanations and excuses. Finally, he heard the front door slam and a few minutes later, Dumbledore came back into the library by way of the parlor. "Harry," he said, sitting across from him and looking into his still glowing green eyes, "please try to control your anger with him. Professor Snape had a bad night."

            "And I didn't?"

            "I'm afraid he has some issues to deal with, I'll admit. But, he is under a lot of duress, Voldemort wasn't too happy about your new found prowess at occulmency. Severus had told him that you had not yet had any more lessons and that you were still with your relatives. He obviously felt that neither assumption was correct and took it out on the bearer of the news. Congratulations on an excellent strategy, though. I am very proud of you! It is not easy to teach yourself those techniques. You performed them extremely well, and again, you used your heart to give you strength."

            "Thank you, sir, but Remus helped. He gave me a lot of advice."

            "Hmm, he said you did all of the work! Now, about these little power surges you've been having."

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean…"

"Of course not, Harry. I'm sure if you had been intent on hurting Professor Snape, he would be in St. Mungo's now." Dumbledore said looking up, his eyes twinkling. "We should discuss this another time, though, I believe you have a birthday to celebrate!"

"Absolutely," Remus said from the door to the dining room.. " And Harry hasn't eaten anything yet."

"I'm not really hungry anymore."

"Nonsense, you said you were starving, and you haven't eaten since dinner last night. Come on, Winky has made Brunch for you." Remus said, sounding very much like Mrs. Weasley. The Werewolf turned to Dumbledore, "about those "issues" Severus needs to deal with, Albus, perhaps he should take care of those before he is allowed back in our house," he demanded scathingly.

Dumbledore appraised the werewolf. The full moon was the next night and he was aware his temper was at its apex. "Yes,  Remus, of course. I will discuss it with him, again. I understand the situation," the wizened wizard said as he left the room.

"Don't let the old bat get to you, Harry," Kingsley told him. "Your father didn't get along with him either." The ex-auror said, referring to the infamous feud between James Potter and Severus Snape.

"There's no reason Harry has to suffer for it, though."  Lupin seethed leaving the room to compose himself, as Harry sat down to eat.

"Well , Harry, what would you like to do for your birthday? Kingsley asked, changing the subject.

"Kill Snape," the young man said under his breath.

Instead, after lunch Kingsley took Harry out to the back garden where the cleansing of the house had ended. "I kind of like the wilderness," the big man said with a laugh.

Harry looked around. Gardening was something he knew, hated, but was very familiar with. Now this was his very own garden and he could see the outlines of the flower beds, he could smell the primrose and lavender that was now overgrown and picture the greenhouse on the crumbling foundation. He stood staring in concentration at the garden, not hearing that  Kingsley was discussing his own ideas for the space.

"Harry, what do you think?" he asked.

"What? Oh, yeah, I think it must have been beautiful! I'd really like to fix it up."

"That's just what I was saying. You can see the outline of the privets over there, there must have been a fountain- probably with serpents. What do you think?"

Harry smiled, "probably. I think we should just do it! Dobby will help, I'm sure."

"Yes, I think this is a great holiday project!" Kingsley said satisfied. Harry had to agree. It would certainly take his mind off his problems.

Dinner was  one of Harry's favorite meals, Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with roasted potatoes and gravy. Quite a few Order members just happened to turn up for his birthday dinner. Snape was not among them, fortunately.

Even more people managed to come by for cake, and they retired to the drawing room where it would be more comfortable. Harry was presented with at lot of gifts from all the Order members present. The Weasley family were represented by Bill and Charlie who gave Harry an official 'hand' for the family clock, with the admonition  to stay out of "mortal peril". Hestia Jones gave him a Magical Music Machine, which looked very much like a CD walkman, but played small black discs, several of which were gifted to him by Emmiline Vance. The male Order members all had the same theme in mind, 'Constant Vigilance'. Kingsley gave him a Foe Glass, Dedalus Diggle, a Secrecy Sensor and Mad- Eye, a Dark Detector. The presents from Tonks and Remus were more personal, photos of Sirius and his parents and various personal items that belonged to each, including a notebook that Sirius had kept with the instructions for the Marauders map and assorted other things that they had devised in their youth.

Mundungus slipped him a large box of Honeydukes chocolate as he was leaving, "just in case," the codger said with a wink. And Sturgis Podmore gave him some Chocolate Frogs, most likely with the same intention, having spent some time in Azkaban last year. The best gift, however came from Albus Dumbledore. "Happy Birthday, Harry," he said handing him a heavy box. "I think you will be able to put this to good use."

Harry unwrapped the gift revealing a small stone bowl, with odd runes  etched around the rim. "Wow! Thank you, sir! This is great! You'll have to show me how to use it, though."

The others in the room looked curiously at the Pensive, most had never seen one before, and they were extremely expensive, but Dumbledore smiled broadly, his blue eyes twinkling more than ever. "Of course, Harry, lessons are included. However, I have a feeling you already have a pretty good idea how it works!"

Harry nodded and thanked everyone for their gifts, he had already gotten books from Hermione and clothes and a diary from the Evans's, both of which Hedwig had brought that morning. Hagrid had sent his usual cake and a book on the care of Hippogriffs, and Professor McGonagall had sent a very practical gift certificate to Flourish and Blotts. All in all it was the best birthday he had ever had, despite the rough beginning to the day. As a matter of fact it was the only real party he ever remembered having, although he was quite sure his parents had given him a party when he had turned one. He was very happy to be surrounded by friends and his new family and felt more at home than he ever had at Privet Drive. He went to sleep thinking that Sirius had made good on his promise to give him a home, even if he couldn't be here with him.

The next few days flew past. Remus locked himself in his room on Saturday afternoon and didn't emerge until late Sunday. He had been taking the Wolfsbane potion all week, but Harry could tell that the transformation had been hard on him. Remus, of course never complained and Harry had to admire his tenacity. Hedwig had stopped by the Dursleys and Dudley had attached a letter telling Harry that his father was doing much better and would be home early next week. Harry had to laugh at his cousin's description of life in the house with Aunt Marge and Ripper, her nasty bulldog. Apparently the woman blamed her brother's condition on "that disgusting little waif" and was glad that "the brat had the decency to run away". Dudley said that he tried to defend Harry but his aunt just thought him to be brainwashed by "that  incorrigible criminal". So Dudley spent all of his moments with her remembering how she looked when Harry blew her up like a giant balloon a few years ago. "I didn't want to laugh at the time, it was a bit scary, you know, but boy you had her pegged- an old bag of hot air!" Dudley wrote. Harry realized that it was quite nice to correspond with his cousin and made a mental note to write back to him.

The new routine started on Monday. Mornings were spent renovating the garden, and Harry found that he could more easily talk about things while working with Kingsley and Remus. After lunch they would work on magic, defense spells and charms, when Professor McGonagall was in the house, transfiguration would be added to the list. The evenings were spent with Dumbledore, when he was available, and Harry would be studying both occulmency and empathic focal magic alone with the headmaster. He was quite nervous the first night, as he had never had Dumbledore as a teacher before and he still didn't know how he felt about the man.

Harry had decided to take a direct approach with his Headmaster, as the man was notorious for talking around a subject. "What exactly is empathic focal magic, sir?" he asked on Monday evening.

"Technically, empathic focus is the power to focus your emotions into energy, whether muscular or magical. Obviously if it is magical energy, than it is referred to as empathic focal magic, or EFM." Dumbledore told him. "Practically, it is the ability to turn your feelings, as well as the feelings of others around you into spells. Most of the wandless magic that I am able to do is based on EFM, even some of the more powerful wanded magic, such as the transfiguration of the fountain statues at the ministry. That took a lot of energy and there was certainly a lot of emotion in the room at the time, and it was quite easy to use it to my benefit. Of course, I have had many, many years of experience, but even a beginner should be able to learn to use that energy to their advantage. I believe you have done so several times already."

Harry sat with his mouth agape. Could he possibly ever be as powerful as Dumbledore? "I've done this already? You mean the photos at my aunt's house?"

Dumbledore smiled gently, "That was certainly elementary EFM, yes. I suspect that sort of thing will be happening more and more frequently, although it's probably best that you keep it to a minimum. We would prefer this remain a surprise to Voldemort until you really need to use it. Do you remember Professor Quirrel, Harry?" The young man nodded. "The very unusual magic that occurred then was most likely due to EFM, although I sincerely doubt that Voldemort realized it at the time, he has a very limited range of emotions you see, and therefore does not understand their true power."

"Are you saying that I killed Quirrel?" Harry asked disconcerted.

"Voldemort killed Professor Quirrel, Harry. You rid him of his possession, forced Voldemort to retreat, and when he did so his host body, Quirrel, died. One cannot survive after giving up one's soul. Do you understand, Harry?" the old man asked gently.

"Yes, I understand that part. But, sir, how did I know to do that?"

"Magic, my dear boy, magic," was the not so helpful response. Harry looked quizzically at him. "Intuition, perhaps, or some innate sense of goodness, even I can't really answer that, Harry. That was not the only time you have called up that power. How did you call Fawkes to you in the Chamber of Secrets? How did you produce a patronus that drove away a hundred Dementors? How did you call up an unintentional Priori Incantatum and keep it going for so long?"

"EFM?"

"Exactly! Much of focal magic occurs by unconscious thought, it comes from your heart. I knew I wanted to get help at the Ministry, I knew I needed Fudge to witness Tom's return. I did not consciously send the statues anywhere. Once transfigured, they just knew what needed to be done. A very powerful empathic focus spell. You will find it is the kind of magic that just happens, much like child wizards who jump to the roof of the school to escape some bullies."

Harry smiled, "then why can't everyone do it?"

"Because children's emotions are raw and unfocused, as they mature they become more balanced, more controlled, a necessity for humans to survive in their social structure."

"So I am emotionally unbalanced, then?"

Dumbledore laughed, "No, although I'm not sure Fudge has completely given up on that theory. You and I are more emotionally complex, we feel things at a higher level than most humans, sense feelings around us, and because we are magical, we can use them to help us."

"I thought everybody felt the way I do. I didn't know it was different, or powerful," Harry said confused.

"You also probably thought everyone saw the world with blurred vision until you got your glasses, correct? It's just the nature of things. It is unfortunate that everyone doesn't have your drive to help their fellows, the world would be a much better place. It is your empathy that makes you such a good hearted person, Harry, a cut above the rest. It is a very wonderful and awesome talent to have and I am sure you will have no problems using them for noble purposes. The only problems that can arise with an empathic wizard is that our emotions are very easy for even the least accomplished legimens or another empath to read. That is why we still need to work on your occulmency, Harry. Fortunately, I believe you will have an excellent teacher this time around," Dumbledore finished, his eyes twinkling.

The session was then mainly focused on hiding his facial expressions so as not to give away his emotions. Harry had long mastered the stoic look that so irritated both his Uncle Vernon and Professor Snape, but he could not seem to mask his eyes. After trying several methods, Dumbledore suggested the one he most preferred- the twinkle. Always look like you are up to no good, that you know something they don't, Harry.  Although I think the staff would prefer you adapted a blank gaze, I have a feeling this might suit you better!" the Headmaster told him, his eyes twinkling more than ever.

"Now, practice all of them and see which one feels the most comfortable. Your house guests will be arriving this week. The Weasleys and Miss Lovegood on Wednesday, Mr. Longbottom on Friday and Miss Granger on Saturday. We will incorporate them into the training schedule starting next week. In the meantime,  I'd like you to continue working with the professors on your own. I'm sure they will allow you at least a few minutes off to see your friends, however," the old man winked.