Title: Wisdom From The Dark 10
Author: Jyrnn
Spoilers: All four books. Wait, can't say that now can I? Okay, PS, CS, PoA, and GoF. I'll probably pilfer whatever bits I can from The Order of The Phoenix. Incidently some of it can fit. Thank you J. K Rowling.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They are the sole intellectual property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I gain no monetary reward for this exercise and do not intend any copyright infringement.
Summery: A child has suffered enough, an intruder encounters unexpected resistance, and the careless words of Voldemort have the most unexpected results. Harry Potter is about to take a stand.
Chapter 10: Supper and Swords
The Chablis was excellent and the fish delicately tasty, it even impressed the discerning palates of the Delacour family. Harry chatted exclusively with the elder Delacour since Fleur, Gabrielle, and their mother Angelique were content to converse quietly at their end of the table. The woman spoke intently about Fleur's upcoming move to England. The solemn youth that had taken the seat across from Harry was their cousin Philippe. He prodded his food lazily and said very little. A long thin scar blemished what could be described as a pretty male face. Philippe bore the chocolate locks of his uncle and sat irresolute in the high back chair. But Harry's train of thought was interrupted as Montrose once again demanded his attention.
"We have, of course, heard much about you from my darling Fleur," with that he send a warm same to the other end of the ornate mahogany table. "I must thank you again for your intentions during the Second Task. Angelique was beside herself when Gabrielle was picked by the officials. Thank you." Harry simply waved that off with a gesture that implied the deed was long forgotten. Montrose merely beamed at him, as if he expected any less from a champion who contented with his daughter. "I must ask however, what brings to belle Marseilles?"
Harry leaned foreword. He liked the man and was not as if the news could remain secret forever. He responded carefully, "You are aware of the unpleasantness that occurred when Cedric Diggory," The name felt like ice on his tongue, "and I took the cup last spring?"
"I have heard rumors that speculated some, but do go on."
"Well, certain parties in my government, namely the minister himself, feared the revelation of that information. He used an assault on my person and home by a dark wizard to draw charges against me. The judge exiled me. So I am forced to study abroad."
'Why that's absurd, there is nothing you can do?" Harry merely shook his in resignation.
A different voice pierced the evening air. It was deep and dry from disuse. "If you mean to study abroad will you attend Beauxbatons?" It was Philippe, he had been drawn in by the change in tone in the conversation.
"I had considered it, but I think I should move further. The closer I am to Britain these days, the less comfortable I feel. My advocate Monsieur Marduk promised to handle those arrangements tomorrow. Beauxbatons is not an option though, the Deputy Headmistress denied my application, that much is assured already. This news came before we were served."
Montrose again, "Denied? You?"
"It seems the influence of my Minister is capable of burning bridges in front of me as well as behind me. But this is irrelevant. Marduk discovered that I have a hereditary seat on the Council of Regents at Durmstrang. That would seem the best course."
Montrose shivered at the name. "Brrr. It is cold in Bulgaria, no?" He gave a hearty laugh and Harry indulged in a close lipped grin. Harry directed his attention back at Philippe. He a grown quite curious about the older youth. "I fear it might seem rude, but I have a quirk regarding scars. You see where I am from most everybody knows how I got mine." He brushed back his spiked locks and touched his lightning shaped affliction. "How did you come by your mark?"
With that Philippe unconsciously rubbed The scar that traced from the corner of his mouth across his cheek. "I earned it in a wizards' duel" He said by way of response.
"A duel, with wands?"
"With spell-charged swords."
"Pardon?"
Philippe took a long drought of his wine. His eyes lost the bored glaze that had filled them most of the night and became animated. A fire of passion lite them. "It traces back to Rome in the height of the Empire. Roman Wizards sought a way to settle personal differences in front of witnesses. Errant curses proved to dangerous to spectators you see?" He continued when Harry nodded his comprehension. "They took the idea from the Muggle Coliseum. A wizard empowers a specially crafted blade with a charm, usually the stunning curse or the sleeping charm. The combatants duel until one Wizard stands victorious. It was banned by most countries when the modern Ministries were formed, but in recent centuries it has made a resurgence. I have dueled for four years now.
"Amazing." Philippe's narrative had enthralled Harry. "So the blades are constantly charged with a spell?"
"No. That is too taxing for most. It is only a master duelist who can maintain that level of energy for the duration of the duel. Mostly its just a matter of picking the right moment. As you can imagine those moments in time prove quite elusive." With a smile he sat back. It was as if he was reliving a fight in his mind.
"Wow. That is so cool." Harry licked his lips. Nervously he asked, "Could you show me."
"Yes."
***
Harry found himself in the weight room of his suite. They had excused themselves from the table and Harry had sent an elf off to receive Philippe's effects. The elf returned quickly, burdened by a heavy chest. Philippe relieved the creature of his load and dismissed the helpful elf. Alone, Philippe proceeded with the demonstration. He placed the chest on the end on a nearby weight bench. The chested opened out like a cabinet. Inside was what appeared to be a dueling outfit and a large sword. Philippe rolled up his sleeves and took the sheathed sword from its resting place. If Harry had to guess, he say the sheathed blade was three feet long. The hilt appeared to be adorned with burnished silver. With a loud rasping shriek Philippe withdrew the blade from its plain sheathe. It was a far different blade from the sword Harry used to slay Syltherin's Basilisk. It was almost like it was made of interlocking segments of metallic material. The entire length seemed like it was composed of serrated triangles of metal hammered peak of triangle into the base of the next. It was bluish with a pebbly hide-like texture.
"All blades need to be fashioned with a mixture of relics from magical flora or fauna. My blade is Frost Wyrm scales molded around traditional steel. The shape of each segment needed to be triangular because that is the shape of an individual scale. No other reason than that. Before many a match I was taunted about the odd shape of my blade." He sliced the air with incredible alacrity for a blade of such size.. "Most find little to laugh about during a bout. Frost Wyrm scale is incredibly light."
"Could you charge it please. I would really like to see that." Harry said with admiration
"Of course." Philippe ceased The movement of the blue blade and drew his brows with concentration. Under his breath he whispered the stunning charm and the blade erupted with aura of sickly yellow light. It enveloped the hilt completely and cascaded in a rush to a sharp tip. A moment later the magic settled down and pulsed audible up and down the length of the blade. Phillip began again, the strain of the magic audible in his voice "When a cold blade is empowered, the effect of the charm works anywhere within an inch radius of the blade itself. After the magic hugs the blade one needs to score a direct hit on his opponent." With a sigh he disengaged the charm and panted slightly. The yellow light flickered briefly and died out as suddenly as it had appeared. Philippe then inverted the blade and gingerly held the blade between thumb and index finger. He pointed the cold silver pommel at Harry. "Give it a try. You know the stunning charm, yes?"
More than a little honored Harry nodded accepted the blade. Testing the blade for himself Harry found that Philippe's assertions were correct. The sword weighted event less that a baseball bat! Steeling himself Harry thrust the blade in front of himself and held it far from his body. He didn't want to stun himself or slash himself to ribbons. With a gulp he quietly uttered the invocation of the charm and waited. Nothing happened. Philippe looked a little disappointed. "Don't feel bad, some can never empower a blade and others need to train for year..." Philippe was cut of as a golden light exploded from the blade like the flames form a large golden torch. The humming of the blade was loud, like a discordant choir localized in Harry's fist.
A look of shock and something close to exultation danced across Philippe's face."Well. You have a gift it, it seems. Train it. I would love to duel against you."
***
Rita Skeeter stared at the scroll in front of her. Her glasses hung an a small chain around her neck. She was on probation. She had been required to transcribe the stories of walk-ins for the past three weeks since she published something unflattering about His Bloatedness Cornelius Fudge. The owners of the Daily Prophet were not amused. *Imagine, Rita Skeeter forced to write about zoning laws and lost cats. It was an outrage. A waste of tine until that fellow Boot walked in. What a scoop! She would show that Fudge. Hmm... what to write. Savior Slammed by Fudge? Maybe it would work. She'd teach Fudge a thing or too about messing with Rita Skeeter. Best of all she would be keeping her oath to awful Granger girl. It was all true!* With that she took up her quill like a knight would his sword. Anyone walking near Rita's cubicle quickly hastened their pace as loud cackling escaped into the crowded office.
End 10
Author Notes:
Some more head way. Hedwig has not disappeared, she is just with Sirius. I shouldn't have said that, no I shouldn't said that. As I have just read Order of The Phoenix for The first time, I am willing to take suggestions an how to integrate The plot of the text with my story. The Prophecy suits my needs as does Professor Umbridge. Anything else?
Lady FoxFire: Kudos to you for picking up the Die Hard reference. I couldn't help it.
To all my reviewers, near and far, frequent and rare, I salute you. Thank you.
That means all of you: Nighttime Sunshine, peeweepotter Relle, AJaKe, cricket, sil, Zaln, Lady FoxFire, Them Girl, fan,Otaku Freak, Saiyan Seker88, bostonian, ADJ, Webster, Star Mage, Lilybee2003, ZeonReborn, gallandro-83, Paul, pablo5280, Imaginaryfriend, Destruxion, kapies, rosie. Bill Weasly, and Myrddin Ambrosius. You feedback is greatly appreciated. I consider all of you suggestions.
Author: Jyrnn
Spoilers: All four books. Wait, can't say that now can I? Okay, PS, CS, PoA, and GoF. I'll probably pilfer whatever bits I can from The Order of The Phoenix. Incidently some of it can fit. Thank you J. K Rowling.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They are the sole intellectual property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I gain no monetary reward for this exercise and do not intend any copyright infringement.
Summery: A child has suffered enough, an intruder encounters unexpected resistance, and the careless words of Voldemort have the most unexpected results. Harry Potter is about to take a stand.
Chapter 10: Supper and Swords
The Chablis was excellent and the fish delicately tasty, it even impressed the discerning palates of the Delacour family. Harry chatted exclusively with the elder Delacour since Fleur, Gabrielle, and their mother Angelique were content to converse quietly at their end of the table. The woman spoke intently about Fleur's upcoming move to England. The solemn youth that had taken the seat across from Harry was their cousin Philippe. He prodded his food lazily and said very little. A long thin scar blemished what could be described as a pretty male face. Philippe bore the chocolate locks of his uncle and sat irresolute in the high back chair. But Harry's train of thought was interrupted as Montrose once again demanded his attention.
"We have, of course, heard much about you from my darling Fleur," with that he send a warm same to the other end of the ornate mahogany table. "I must thank you again for your intentions during the Second Task. Angelique was beside herself when Gabrielle was picked by the officials. Thank you." Harry simply waved that off with a gesture that implied the deed was long forgotten. Montrose merely beamed at him, as if he expected any less from a champion who contented with his daughter. "I must ask however, what brings to belle Marseilles?"
Harry leaned foreword. He liked the man and was not as if the news could remain secret forever. He responded carefully, "You are aware of the unpleasantness that occurred when Cedric Diggory," The name felt like ice on his tongue, "and I took the cup last spring?"
"I have heard rumors that speculated some, but do go on."
"Well, certain parties in my government, namely the minister himself, feared the revelation of that information. He used an assault on my person and home by a dark wizard to draw charges against me. The judge exiled me. So I am forced to study abroad."
'Why that's absurd, there is nothing you can do?" Harry merely shook his in resignation.
A different voice pierced the evening air. It was deep and dry from disuse. "If you mean to study abroad will you attend Beauxbatons?" It was Philippe, he had been drawn in by the change in tone in the conversation.
"I had considered it, but I think I should move further. The closer I am to Britain these days, the less comfortable I feel. My advocate Monsieur Marduk promised to handle those arrangements tomorrow. Beauxbatons is not an option though, the Deputy Headmistress denied my application, that much is assured already. This news came before we were served."
Montrose again, "Denied? You?"
"It seems the influence of my Minister is capable of burning bridges in front of me as well as behind me. But this is irrelevant. Marduk discovered that I have a hereditary seat on the Council of Regents at Durmstrang. That would seem the best course."
Montrose shivered at the name. "Brrr. It is cold in Bulgaria, no?" He gave a hearty laugh and Harry indulged in a close lipped grin. Harry directed his attention back at Philippe. He a grown quite curious about the older youth. "I fear it might seem rude, but I have a quirk regarding scars. You see where I am from most everybody knows how I got mine." He brushed back his spiked locks and touched his lightning shaped affliction. "How did you come by your mark?"
With that Philippe unconsciously rubbed The scar that traced from the corner of his mouth across his cheek. "I earned it in a wizards' duel" He said by way of response.
"A duel, with wands?"
"With spell-charged swords."
"Pardon?"
Philippe took a long drought of his wine. His eyes lost the bored glaze that had filled them most of the night and became animated. A fire of passion lite them. "It traces back to Rome in the height of the Empire. Roman Wizards sought a way to settle personal differences in front of witnesses. Errant curses proved to dangerous to spectators you see?" He continued when Harry nodded his comprehension. "They took the idea from the Muggle Coliseum. A wizard empowers a specially crafted blade with a charm, usually the stunning curse or the sleeping charm. The combatants duel until one Wizard stands victorious. It was banned by most countries when the modern Ministries were formed, but in recent centuries it has made a resurgence. I have dueled for four years now.
"Amazing." Philippe's narrative had enthralled Harry. "So the blades are constantly charged with a spell?"
"No. That is too taxing for most. It is only a master duelist who can maintain that level of energy for the duration of the duel. Mostly its just a matter of picking the right moment. As you can imagine those moments in time prove quite elusive." With a smile he sat back. It was as if he was reliving a fight in his mind.
"Wow. That is so cool." Harry licked his lips. Nervously he asked, "Could you show me."
"Yes."
***
Harry found himself in the weight room of his suite. They had excused themselves from the table and Harry had sent an elf off to receive Philippe's effects. The elf returned quickly, burdened by a heavy chest. Philippe relieved the creature of his load and dismissed the helpful elf. Alone, Philippe proceeded with the demonstration. He placed the chest on the end on a nearby weight bench. The chested opened out like a cabinet. Inside was what appeared to be a dueling outfit and a large sword. Philippe rolled up his sleeves and took the sheathed sword from its resting place. If Harry had to guess, he say the sheathed blade was three feet long. The hilt appeared to be adorned with burnished silver. With a loud rasping shriek Philippe withdrew the blade from its plain sheathe. It was a far different blade from the sword Harry used to slay Syltherin's Basilisk. It was almost like it was made of interlocking segments of metallic material. The entire length seemed like it was composed of serrated triangles of metal hammered peak of triangle into the base of the next. It was bluish with a pebbly hide-like texture.
"All blades need to be fashioned with a mixture of relics from magical flora or fauna. My blade is Frost Wyrm scales molded around traditional steel. The shape of each segment needed to be triangular because that is the shape of an individual scale. No other reason than that. Before many a match I was taunted about the odd shape of my blade." He sliced the air with incredible alacrity for a blade of such size.. "Most find little to laugh about during a bout. Frost Wyrm scale is incredibly light."
"Could you charge it please. I would really like to see that." Harry said with admiration
"Of course." Philippe ceased The movement of the blue blade and drew his brows with concentration. Under his breath he whispered the stunning charm and the blade erupted with aura of sickly yellow light. It enveloped the hilt completely and cascaded in a rush to a sharp tip. A moment later the magic settled down and pulsed audible up and down the length of the blade. Phillip began again, the strain of the magic audible in his voice "When a cold blade is empowered, the effect of the charm works anywhere within an inch radius of the blade itself. After the magic hugs the blade one needs to score a direct hit on his opponent." With a sigh he disengaged the charm and panted slightly. The yellow light flickered briefly and died out as suddenly as it had appeared. Philippe then inverted the blade and gingerly held the blade between thumb and index finger. He pointed the cold silver pommel at Harry. "Give it a try. You know the stunning charm, yes?"
More than a little honored Harry nodded accepted the blade. Testing the blade for himself Harry found that Philippe's assertions were correct. The sword weighted event less that a baseball bat! Steeling himself Harry thrust the blade in front of himself and held it far from his body. He didn't want to stun himself or slash himself to ribbons. With a gulp he quietly uttered the invocation of the charm and waited. Nothing happened. Philippe looked a little disappointed. "Don't feel bad, some can never empower a blade and others need to train for year..." Philippe was cut of as a golden light exploded from the blade like the flames form a large golden torch. The humming of the blade was loud, like a discordant choir localized in Harry's fist.
A look of shock and something close to exultation danced across Philippe's face."Well. You have a gift it, it seems. Train it. I would love to duel against you."
***
Rita Skeeter stared at the scroll in front of her. Her glasses hung an a small chain around her neck. She was on probation. She had been required to transcribe the stories of walk-ins for the past three weeks since she published something unflattering about His Bloatedness Cornelius Fudge. The owners of the Daily Prophet were not amused. *Imagine, Rita Skeeter forced to write about zoning laws and lost cats. It was an outrage. A waste of tine until that fellow Boot walked in. What a scoop! She would show that Fudge. Hmm... what to write. Savior Slammed by Fudge? Maybe it would work. She'd teach Fudge a thing or too about messing with Rita Skeeter. Best of all she would be keeping her oath to awful Granger girl. It was all true!* With that she took up her quill like a knight would his sword. Anyone walking near Rita's cubicle quickly hastened their pace as loud cackling escaped into the crowded office.
End 10
Author Notes:
Some more head way. Hedwig has not disappeared, she is just with Sirius. I shouldn't have said that, no I shouldn't said that. As I have just read Order of The Phoenix for The first time, I am willing to take suggestions an how to integrate The plot of the text with my story. The Prophecy suits my needs as does Professor Umbridge. Anything else?
Lady FoxFire: Kudos to you for picking up the Die Hard reference. I couldn't help it.
To all my reviewers, near and far, frequent and rare, I salute you. Thank you.
That means all of you: Nighttime Sunshine, peeweepotter Relle, AJaKe, cricket, sil, Zaln, Lady FoxFire, Them Girl, fan,Otaku Freak, Saiyan Seker88, bostonian, ADJ, Webster, Star Mage, Lilybee2003, ZeonReborn, gallandro-83, Paul, pablo5280, Imaginaryfriend, Destruxion, kapies, rosie. Bill Weasly, and Myrddin Ambrosius. You feedback is greatly appreciated. I consider all of you suggestions.