The Druids Apprentice
Ch 3 Training and a visit with the Dursleys.
Nine year old Harry Potter moved through the forest as a silent shadow. Four years had past in the muggle world but for the green eyed boy it had been more than eight. Harry had spent much of his training traveling throughout Avalon and the muggle world learning everything from woodcraft to pick-pocketing. Grandfathers latest test was of his forestry skills.
Without magic he was to track his mentor without being seen and at the same time trying to avoid a griffin that had been recruited to hunt him. They were into the third day of chase and the boy was beginning to feel the strain of the task. Earlier in the day he had thrown the half lion, half giant eagle by traversing a patch of screeches. The giant mushroom-like plants had put up a horrible din when the beast had blundered into them and had forced it to take to the sky. Taking advantage of the creatures distress, the boy was quick to hide his tail and possibly lose himself from the griffin for good. In the search for his grandfather, unfortunately, he was having no better luck with his quarry than the great beast had with him.
The old druid had evaded him the day before using stony ground to cover his passage. The boy was a good tracker but his grandfather had been traversing this forest before there was even a Britain and it was making Harry feel quite inadequate. He was skirting another clearing and searching for any sign of the old man's passage when he heard the scream from above.
Without looking the boy dove into deeper brush, avoiding the claws of an angry griffin as it swooped past. He ran for all he was worth, not sparing a glance behind him as he searched for denser brush to slow the huge creatures
progress. The boy was beginning to feel safe when a sudden blow from behind knocked him from his feet.
Using the force of the strike he rolled several feet, pulling a small packet wrapped in leaves from a pouch at his belt. The beast towered above him and snarled savagely. Seven feet tall, its head, wings and forelegs were that of
a giant eagle and Its hindquarters and tail were of a huge lion. Even sitting still such a beast would bring a pause and a pang of fear to even the heartiest warrior but one that was hunting and enraged... was quite overwhelming. The sound issuing from its throat was a cross between a shriek and a growl.
The boy stood as if frozen, waiting for the right moment to spring his little surprise. As the beast rose up on its hindquarters and took a breath in preparation to attack the boy crushed the packet in his hand and threw it at the
beasts head. The yellowish cloud billowed around it and was sucked into its lungs and the effect was instantaneous.
Harry dove past the stricken griffin as it choked and moaned in pain. He wove through the forest putting as much distance between himself and the creature as possible. He ran, unheeding of his direction or location until he
felt that he had lost the beast for good. Leaning against a tree he took huge gulps of air, trying to get his breath back. He had almost recovered himself when he suddenly ducked and rolled on hearing a quiet voice just beside him call his name.
"Gods!... Grandfather... You'll give me a bleedin heart attack doing things like that!"
The ancient druid leaned against the tree studying his many-times removed grandson. The four years had been kind to the boy. Already he was nearly a head taller than James and easily ten kilos heavier. Physically both boys were still nine, but Harry had flourished under his grandfathers loving tutelage and regular diet. He was tanned and muscular, having spent nearly every waking moment running, playing and fighting since he had been rescued by the ancient druid. The old man had changed little to the boys eyes since they'd met except for his wardrobe. No longer in a dressing gown and bunny slippers, the old druid wore clothing very similar to Harry's. Home spun tunic and breeches with soft leather boots and a hooded cloak to keep the weather off.
The old man lit his pipe and gazed at his young charge. "It's been three days Harry, how do you feel you've done?" The boy grimaced. He hated when his grandfather did this. It was one thing to try and learn the skills the old man taught but to then have to grade himself in front of the man... he was always afraid that he would be easy on himself and lose stature in the mans eyes.
"O.K. I guess, I was able to keep up with you for the most part until yesterday but when you got to the rocky ground I lost you all-together... where did you go?"
The old man smiled, "It's a common thing to miss lad, most do it. You were looking at the ground for signs of my passing, yes?"
The boy nodded, then gave his mentor a hard stare. "Up? You cant fly, you said no magic this time."
"I didn't actually say I couldn't use magic," he replied, "Only that you weren't supposed to. Regardless I never cast a spell... I simply came to the tree line and climbed. I only had to go a mile or so limb to limb but it was enough to throw you off the scent." He ruffled the boys hair. "don't fret on it, just remember that an intelligent man considers all the possibilities... Now what of your evasion of our feathery friend?"
The boy shrugged, "I think Skye won't be happy to see me for a while."
The man chuckled. "Yes I saw your last little stunt... My guess is crushed mustard seed?"
Harry grinned back, "Yea and some pepper seed too."
The man nodded, "You'd best not turn your back to her for a bit, she is a bit peevish. I must say though young man that you're coming along splendidly. Lets talk and head back to the house, James will surely be waiting for us."
Together the two began the long march back to the clearing where they made their home. "Harry, you remember we spoke of your mother and her sacrifice." The boy nodded, obviously uncomfortable with the subject. "I want to
tell you all that happened that night, Much of the intrigue in the wizarding world revolves around it and you, my boy." Harry remained silent. He knew his grandfather and all would be revealed if he just waited for the explanation.
The old man took a deep breath and began his tale. "Several years ago a ruthless wizard came to power. His cause, the reason he gave for his actions was pureblood supremacy. He stated that he believed that only wizards who came from established magical families, unsullied by muggle blood were worthy to be called such. This from a man who's own father was a muggle himself." Merrill shook his head, marveling at the stupidity of it all. "He gathered many followers and killed any that stood in his path to dominance."
"This would be Voldemort then," Harry asked, "The dark wizard you told me about before."
The old man nodded, his face blank as stone. "He terrorized the wizarding and muggle worlds alike. The ministry of magic was in a shambles many of their number. Some even of their police men, aurors, had fallen in with the madman. The only organized opposition came from a group of light wizards that had dubbed themselves 'The Order of the Phoenix.' Lead by their greatest wizard."
"Dumbledore?" The boy guessed.
"Correct again my boy. Your parents were also a part of the order. They had faced him three times and come away unharmed. There was a prophesy, however, that predicted that their son would be his downfall. Through the betrayal by one of their close friends, Voldemort found their home and killed them both. He tried the same with you but the ancient magics your mother had awakened protected you, destroyed his physical form and banished him for a time."
Harry stopped. "He's not dead then?"
The old man shook his head. "No. He is weakened and formless but still alive. Dumbledore took you to your aunt and uncles house thinking that the magics tied to Lilly's sacrifice would be transferred through her blood ties to her sister... A load of pish-posh is you ask me. The prophesy said that only you could kill Voldemort or be killed yourself. When you begin school at Hogwarts he plans to begin shaping you into a proper weapon for the coming war."
The old druid stopped and knelt in front of the boy, taking both shoulders he said, "I've told you more today than anyone really should have to hear in one sitting and I'm sorry. These men are dangerous and to both you are little more than a tool. I need you to be prepared for their machinations... Are you alright? What are you feeling Harry?"
The boy looked back with a bit of a far away look in his eyes. "Sad I guess. I mean I don't really even remember My parents. I want Voldemort to pay for what he's done though." The boy looked up at his granfather with an intense, questioning stare. "We will make him pay won't we?"
A dangerous glint came to the old mans eyes. "Oh yes, my boy, there will be justice, this is swear on our blood."
At that moment they rounded a bend and came upon their home. Sitting in front of it was a little boy, not looking more than six or seven years old with messy black hair, green eyes and several fresh bruises on his face.
"James!" Harry yelled as he left his grandfather and ran to his stand-in for the muggle world. "It's great to see... What happened to you?"
The smaller boy flinched at the question. "I... It's nothing really..."
Harry broke in again angrily, "My arse it's not... It was Dudley! Him and his friends!" The boy turned to his grandfather. "We have to do something! I won't let James be treated like this when I can do something about it!
The old man went to James, whispered something and passed an arm over his form, the bruises and scratches disappeared as if they never were. "What would you suggest Harry? You can't just go and tell his parents, they'll take his side... and if you were to hurt Dudley they may send James to an orphanage..."
At this James brightened, "you think?"
The old man shook his head, "Sorry James but Dumbledore won't allow you to leave, we'll have to think of something else."
Harry's eyes suddenly widened. "Grandfather, you can make me look like James right?"
"Of course my boy, it's a simple illusion... why?"
Several minutes later a small boy exited from number six Privet drive and walked determinedly towards the park. Seeing Dudley and his gang he changed his step so that he seemed timid, almost afraid. Like a pack of dogs smelling blood the boys turned, saw Harry entering the park and moved as one to intercept him. Smiling to himself the little boy ran into some shrubbery that would hide them all from view.
Dudley was feeling Really good today. He'd gotten two expensive presents from his parents that morning 'just because he was such a wonderful Duddikins.' he'd already beaten up his younger cousin once and now the little wanker was back yet again for seconds. He lead his cronies into the bushes expecting to find the boy cowering but instead Harry was propped against a tree with a smile on his face.
"Hello Dudds..." the boy said with an infuriating smile. "Come for seconds? I don't think so, I'm tired of you picking on me so I think I'll teach you a lesson."
Dudley couldn't help himself, he broke into a fit of laughter. "You teach me?... what exactly?"
"Well I know that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would punish me severely if anything happened to 'little Duddipoo'" The boy replied, "So I guess I'm going to show your friends what's going to happen to them whenever you or any of them mess with me."
Dudley wasn't the brightest light in the string but he knew a threat when he heard one. "What do you..." Harry didn't let the boy finish. Running forward suddenly he kicked Piers Poltkiss, Dudley's best friend, squarely in the bag. Pushing him off he elbowed another in the stomach and kicked a third behind the leg, knocking him to his knees. Spinning around on his leg he brought roundhouse kick to the fallen boys face. Moving quickly to the one he'd elbowed he put a knee into the boys head, dropping him for the count as well. Piers, seeing the pounding his friends were getting, chose the better part of valor and curled into a little ball to wait out the beating. Dudley, having just spun about and finally realized that Harry had moved from in front of him, watched in astonishment as his last remaining friend not completely flattened get a sock to the jaw that spun him almost all the way back around and fall to the ground unconscious.
Dudley was unsure what to do. Harry was a little wimp, a freak; his father had said as much. Now four of his closest friends were on the ground and bleeding because of his cousin.
Harry stood surrounded by his fallen tormentors as he spoke to Dudley. "Listen up Dudders and the rest of you. Touch me, any of you, ever again and It'll come down on you ten times worse.. Except for you Dudley... You wont get touched... by me. I wonder, though, how many beatings your friends will take before they turn on you." Not wasting another breath on the sorry bunch the boy left the park and ran back to his grandfathers house.
Several days went by and early one morning he was woken by the old druid. "Get up Harry, we need to go to muggle London." The boy quickly dressed, saving his questions for after they left the house. The old man waved his hand and Harry's appearance changed dramatically. His hair that had been past his shoulders was now a brown shaggy mane that reached his neck, his eyes were blue and his ever present scar had been re-located to his backside. The old man had laughed and said no-one would think to look for it there even if that's where the boys brains seemed to reside half the time. They walked several blocks till they were safely away from Privet drive and the old man raised a hand. Instantly the knight bus appeared and stopped. Paying the man they both sat on a four-poster and watched the scenery go by.
"We're going to see your pupil, Harry." The mans statement had instantly captured the boys attention. "I've a friend that tells me he's lost in Muggle London. The boy normally wears a ring that tells his parents where he is but he left it at home this morning and has gotten separated from his parents."
The bus suddenly swerved violently to avoid some oncoming traffic and an old wizard several beds away Muttered "Oh Merlin." Harry gave his grandfather a hard look, "What?" The boy continued to stare, "It's just an expression."
They arrived at their destination shortly after and the old man gave his grandson some last minute instructions. "Your name is Damon Forester, you're my Grandson visiting from Ottery St. Catchpole. Remember that we're just here so you can get a good look at him and get him back to his parents. Nothing else."
"Grandfather," the boy returned, "Why don't we just take him to Avalon and teach him like you have me?"
"Were it that simple," the old man said, "He's likely been corrupted by his parents. He couldn't pass the gates into the magical realm. One day, if you teach him well he'll be accepted but for now he you must do it in the muggle world... there!" They had come into a fountain square. Everywhere children were running and playing. One, however was sitting on a bench, desperately trying not to cry.
Harry looked up to his grandfather who simply nodded. Separating himself from his mentor, he walked over to the bench. "Hi, are you lost?"
The other boy transformed before him. Putting on a brave mask he sneered, "Do I look lost to you?"
"Yup." Said Harry.
The new boy seemed to deflate a little bit but said with false confidence, "Father will be along directly I'm sure..."
At that moment the old druid joined them and spoke up. "You didn't wander away from the Leaky Cauldron by chance, did you?"
The boy's eyes grew round, he quickly looked about to make sure no one was listening and whispered, "You're wizards?"
Smiling warmly the man nodded, "lets get you back there before your parents worry too much."
Several minutes later they were inside the inn talking to Tom, the barkeep when an imposing, aristocratic man smoothly entered the pub. His calm and collected air was ruined by a pale, strained and almost desperate look on his face. Seeing his son in the group he took a long slow breath, calmed himself and glided over to take the boys shoulder.
"There you are." He studied the two of them and nodded, "Lucius Malfoy at your service. I trust you're the gentleman that escorted young Draco back here?"
The old druid shook his hand. "Merrill Forester, Found him a few blocks over, smart lad, kept his head on his shoulders. Most children today would be in a panic if they'd gotten separated in the middle of muggle London."
Lucius nodded, "The boy is a Malfoy after all... Forester... there was a pureblood family by the name... they vanished years ago... are you related?"
Harry's grandfather used the same ingratiating tones he'd used with the Dursleys, "Indeed we are. The family pulled up stake several years back and we've moved about quite a bit but we've returned recently... my grandson will be starting Hogwarts in two years, I'm sure the boys will get a chance to know each other better then..."
The blond wizard cracked a partial smile and said, "Perhaps sooner... Have you re- opened the manor yet?"
"Not yet," the old man replied with a shake of the head. "The boys parents died a few years ago and the two of us are all that's left. I haven't decided if it would be worth the effort."
"It would, trust me. Blood had gotten a bit thin here of late, it would be refreshing to have someone of your breeding around... Come Draco we must be off." The two left the pub as quickly as the elder Malfoy had arrived.
Harry turned to his Grandfather. "I don't like him."
The old druid took the boys shoulder and guided him towards the door. "Neither do I, lets go home.
