The Rise & Fall of Harry Potter

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Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe and all of its characters solely belong to JK Rowling. I own nothing except for the plot and anything that you do not recognize. No profit is being made from writing this piece of fiction either.

A/N: Wow, thanks for all the reviews! I must say it spurred me to start writing straight away. This chapter, would hopefully, not seem too convoluted, as I will be trying to squeeze Harry's two years before Hogwarts into two chapters. There will be a greater use of flashbacks in this chapter.

There are two reviews that I simply must respond to. Firstly, Jarno, you said it was impossible for Harry to be tortured and not let his accidental magic flare up. Have you never thought that Harry wanted to avoid these outbursts of magic from occurring? Before he met Alpheus (in this fic anyway), Harry had never known what magic was. The previously random accidental magic outbursts was like to him, an oddity, an anomaly, something that defined him being a freak; and something that he was punished greater for. Besides, in the third book, Harry blew up Marge because she was constantly insulting his parents after he knew the truth about them. By then, he had already known he was a wizard and knew what magic is etc. If you really cannot stomach this, then I can't help you.

Next, an anonymous reviewer under the alias '230192', posted this, which I now quote, "your storys rubbish and i nearly fell to sleep whilst reading it.you cant write and cant spell so stop wriiting excuses for storys u crap writer". Now I get why FFN was so anxious to improve their tools of which to remove random reviews. It's because of people like that guy. I admit that I am not a brilliant writer, and if I could write a chapter without making one or two spelling mistakes, coupled with the fact that I work without a beta, I would be Godlike. Besides, you never explained why I am, as you say, a 'crap writer', and if you think the fic is boring, than kindly leave. I did not notice much spelling mistakes either. (Any other reviewers noticed that I have made a lot of spelling mistakes?) For that matter, you are a bloody hypocrite- saying that I can't write or spell when your review is littered with spelling and grammatical mistakes. So, in the tradition of the Lord of the Rings, I'd say "Begone, foul dwimmerlaik". Now, please note, I do not have anything against anonymous reviewers, and my comments were wholly directed to the perpetrator. I hope no one else would take offence.

My apologies to whomever who had to put up with my rant- I was just letting off some steam. I guess I should paraphrase my previous comments on flames. All flames are accepted, but please at least give me reasons for it, with examples, if possible. This would be most helpful to me. If you are going to go, like, "You are the crappiest writer in the world and should be exiled to a planet as far away as Kashyyyk", then forget it, just leave. It would save both my time and yours.

Nljfs: I'm not allowed to post links here, but search for 'saerry' under the Authors category and you will be able to find her profile (Saerry Snape), eventually 'Not Myself'. Brace yourself for a long read though- it's a whopping 370,000 words, but very well worth the time.

I'm thinking I should compile a list of my favorite works anywhere from here at FFN to FictionAlley. Only problem would be that it would fill a lexicon.

The use of italics can mean a person's thoughts, a flashback, a book excerpt or a spell. I hope it won't be too confusing.

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Chapter Four: Knowledge is Power

Ten-year old Harry shook his head, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He sighed. He could barely pass the afternoons these days without taking a short nap. On his lap lay a great, thick tome, entitled, 'Dark Lords of the Past'. Harry hated to sleep- not because he thought it was a waste of time, but due to how sleep always seemed to bring back the worst of his past in its most vivid form possible. It has been a long time since he had a good rest without seeing the devilish Dursleys, or memories of his horrible experience under them. A long time indeed…

His mind flashed back to the very first night he spent at the Manor. Father had told him all about his past- His parents, the Dark Lord Voldemort, the Order of the Phoenix. But even today it still did not really make sense to him. From what Father had informed him, Voldemort and his Death Eaters began a reign of terror lasting twenty years, and causing the deaths of nearly eight thousand wizards and witches in the process. What confused him was why the Dark Lord was so interested in his family? Voldemort had made a grand total of four attempts on the Potters' lives, the last of which all but succeeded, if not for the fact that he, Harry, had for reasons yet unknown, managed to deflect the Killing Curse onto the Dark Lord, causing his downfall.

Harry could not help but nurse a grudge against the Dark wizard. If anything, Voldemort was the cause for him growing up as an orphan, and spending eight years of hell on earth with the Dursleys. The Dursleys. Harry tried to calm himself down as he felt a deep, unexplained anger growing in him- anger and hatred so dark and strongly wrought that it threatened to tear his mind and very existence apart. He clenched his fists, and grabbed his throbbing head. This was not healthy- the last time this, this mysterious outburst of anger occurred, he accidentally burned the armrest of the chair he was sitting on. Along with it usually came his mysterious inner-voice. Harry was not sure if someone had hexed him or he was already insane.

Or are you not?

Oh, there was the voice again. Harry wondered just to whom it belonged to. He swore he heard a mental snicker.

Oh, this is laughable. Who am I? You might as well ask for your own identity. I am Harry Potter, just a different person than the one presented to the world. You and I are one. We differ only in the fact that you foolishly chose to retain your humanity and innocence, while I faced up to reality, I faced up to the challenge, and I changed for the better. Without me, you would have either been dead, or would have lost your mind. I protected you and made you who you are. But fret not, you will soon come to accept that fact; embrace your true self.

When he had questioned Father about this, the man simply told him that it was the demons of his past, beasts that had been formed mentally inside him to shelter his mind from insanity during times of abuse; sort of a mental release to prevent himself from going mad during that period. He was also told these experiences would probably only be gone if he managed to lay these demons to rest, something which he did not know how to do.

Enough of these awful thoughts

Harry stretched his aching muscles, they were aching everyday. At first, Harry never really understood why Father, no, in this case, he was Master, made him undergo what he called 'fitness training'. He rolled his eyes as he thought back.

"I would like you, Harry, to be my new apprentice. It is the Greengrass tradition; each male would be apprenticed to an elder, until he is taught all the master knows. Apprenticeship usually starts when the boy reaches ten. But I will make an exception for you. This relationship traditionally occurs in pairs- a Master and an Apprentice, contrary to other similar apprenticeships, where a Master could have a large number of students.

"I will cover the study of Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration and Charm, among other subjects. There will also be Defense practices, building up of your Duelling skills, and a few others, which will of course," here he looked over Harry's slight frame and smirked, "include fitness training."

"So, would you accept?"

Harry would have been a fool to decline. He had wanted to learn all he could about this fascinating subject since the very first time he experienced it. He agreed.

"Good. You will address me as Master, during these, how do you say it, lessons."

Harry would hardly call it, fitness training, more like torture. Surely, he thought, that anyone would consider making a child run, four to five miles a day torture. Or dumping a boy who had no prior experience in swimming into a deep lake, leaving him to fight or sink; or making him cover the 500-meter diameter of the lake twenty times daily. The worse, no doubt, was making him hang on a tree branch for up to three hours each day, while conjuring hot coals below, to make sure that Harry would not be tempted to let go, all the time having to endure Daphne's pulling of funny faces, trying to make him laugh and lose his grip.

Even till now, he still could not really get used to this 'training'. But admittedly, it had done wonders to his physical condition. He was still nowhere Julius' height, but at least, at least he was only, say, average for his age. Harry was also gradually catching up to him in terms of build, though that wasn't saying much. On the plus side, he could now look into a mirror, and not wish to bury himself six-feet under. Regarding the matter of physical appearance, Harry finally had his eyes corrected. Father nearly went mad after his glasses fell to the ground for the thirtieth time during a small simulated duel.

There were two things that came out of this. The unfortunate thing was no such Magical method of correcting one's eyesight- potions, spells or whatsoever, existed, as Father so nicely put it, "If magic could correct one's eyes, there wouldn't be any bespectacled wizard or witch around, you idiot". The good thing was Daphne's childhood friend, Tracey Davis, who was thankfully shorter than him, had sparkling violet eyes, and wore her blonde hair straight down instead of Daphne's preferred ponytail, introduced him to her father and narrated his problem. The stern-looking, but kindly wizard, though being a pureblood, did not discriminate against Mudbloods and introduced him to a good friend of his who brought him into the Muggle world (tolerant though Mr. Davis may be, it extended only to the field of associating with Muggle-borns, he would never deign to enter the Muggle world), into what they called an Optocin, Optikian, no, Optacian, whatever it is. The less he had to do with the Muggle world, the better. The eye-corrector had him undergo a method, LASEK, or was it LISIK, that involved, as far a he could tell, using a bright red beam to blast his eyes. Having to endure the burning pain was almost too much for him to handle, and Harry was half-tempted to draw his wand and give the fool a taste of his own medicine.

Though, he must say, it was really a testament to how much his life had improved. Three years ago, just three years ago, being on the receiving end of a punch or kick was nothing uncommon. And yet now, he was being as petulant as a toddler just because of a little pain in his eyes. Harry sighed. He was getting more and more spoilt as he grew accustomed to his privileged life under the Greengrass'.

Father received a pleasant shock the next day when he found him reading without glasses. When asked how he managed to achieve the impossible, Harry had chosen not to reveal anything, citing that it was a trade secret. Harry did not really appreciate his father skinning him alive upon finding out that he had approached Muggles for help. Not that he was happy to seek out Muggles either. He could barely tolerate the sight of them, but as the power of the wand did not extend to covering the improvement of several natural ailments and disabilities, what choice had he?

Ah, yes… speaking of the wand. It was Harry's pride and joy. Holding it alone almost made him feel like a completely different person. Father, on the second day Harry had been in the Manor, brought him to visit Diagon Alley to get his wand. The only word to describe the place was… madness; though in a positive sense.

"Mr. Greengrass, what a pleasant surprise. Twelve and a half inches, pine, with a dragon's heartstring as a core, I presume? Very nasty creature, the Ironbelly is, nearly seared off my beard," Harry shot a quizzical look at his father, "I trust your wand is working well for you, no?"

Father smiled, and replied, "Yes, of course, Mr. Ollivander, anything made by you is top quality. Harry here needs a wand."

The old man stared at him for a while before smiling. "Mr. Potter, I must say that I was not expecting you for another three years. It seems almost like yesterday when your parents came into here to purchase their wands. Your father, for one, could not keep his hands to himself, and left my store half in ruins! Good times, good times. And Lily was the most inquisitive girl that has graced this shop. The girl, bless her, kept asking questions about wand-crafting left and right." Ollivander stared off into space, quietly reminiscing, before looking back to him while stroking his soft-looking white beard.

"I apologize for this lapse in concentration. Why don't you step over here and give this wand a go. Forgive an old man's lack of memory, but what would your wand hand be? Perhaps I should make it clearer. Which hand do you use for writing?", he asked genially.

Harry had softly informed the wand-maker that he was left-handed, which elicited another hard stare.

"The only left-handed wizard in the past century is the Dark Lord", Father had answered nonchalantly.

This disturbed Harry greatly. It was strange, but he seemed to be growing more and more alike to Voldemort. Was he turning evil? He shuddered.

Harry spent the next hour trying out wands of various lengths ranging from the very short six-inches to the near rod-like 17 and a half inches, different woods and cores, but with no success; there was either plainly no response whatsoever, or a strongly negative one, such as causing a strong gale to blow the other wand-boxes off their shelves. Father had impatiently stormed out of the shop under the pretext of having to relieve himself after a half hour had passed.

"I wonder…"

Ollivander went back into his workroom and brought out a thin brown wand, grasping it reverently. "Try this- Holly, eleven inches with a phoenix tail feather core."

Harry picked it up, and gave the wand a little shake. It began to glow dimly at its end before fading. The wand was pretty much unresponsive, but a considerably bigger improvement than the rest.

"Curious, very curious…"

"And what would be curious, Mr. Ollivander?" The wizened wand-crafter's off-the-world kind of speech was really confusing him.

"The wand core seems to fit perfectly, but the holly is conflicting with your magic." Ollivander thought for a moment before replying, "Why don't you come into the workroom with me? We will see if we can't find you a more suitable material for your wand."

By then Father had reentered, and had followed him into the old wizard's workroom. The small, cramped place was more like a storeroom, with hundreds of boxes stacked high, and blocks of wood lying around.

"Place your hand on each block of wood; try to mentally assimilate the wood into your very being. Imagine it being an integral part of your core. If it is compatible, you will feel a slight burn. The warmer it is, the more suitable it will be."

It was as though Harry was repeating the same process. He had went through pine, willow, teak, mahogany and countless other varieties, all of which remained as cold as a corpse. Finally he was down to two remaining ones. As he touched the first, a dark-colored specimen, he felt a slight sting, which slowly grew warmer.

"Interesting, Yew, I did not expect you to be compatible with it."

"I think I would like to try the last one as well", Harry said, pointing to a remaining block of lightly-colored wood."

He picked it up, and nearly dropped it soon after due to the large burn it caused by his contact.

Ollivander goggled at him, his mouth wide open.

"Oak. I might have guessed."

"What's the big deal about oak?"

This time it was his father who had solemnly replied. "Oak is widely known as the Tree of Kings and Rulers. It is a great honor to be able to use such a wand. As the wand chooses the wizard, very few are found to be compatible with oak wands. Notable wizards who possessed oak wands include the Dark Lord Adlar Grindelward, who conquered a large part of Wizarding Europe during his reign, and the man who defeated him, Albus Dumbledore whom you have unfortunately met, among other great Dark and Light wizards."

Ollivander now picked up the speech. "The compatibility of a wizard with an oak wand is usually seen by some traditionalists as a sign of eventual greatness. A wizard in possession of such a wand has, throughout history, achieved incomparable feats or successes. I have no doubt that you would join their ranks. Plus the feather core, it comes from the same phoenix which supplied the core of the wand which caused your scar. You will do great things in future, Mr. Potter. Just like the owner of your wand's brother- horrific acts, but great nonetheless."

"Since you have been chosen, who am I to deny? I would help you craft the oak into a proper wand, and incorporate the phoenix core into it."

Harry had left the shop feeling unexplainably happy. He did not understand why the explanation from both Father and Ollie, as he would likened the man to, had made him so satisfied. A few hours later, he collected his precious twelve-inched wand from the shop, and clutched it the entire day like a baby would a toy.

He had wasted too much time reflecting. Better get some reading done.

Knowledge is power…

Harry turned to the last few pages where he had stopped before falling asleep, and began to read.

Dark Lords of the Past (AD1850-1980)

Helderon (Reign: 1880-1891)

The Dark Lord Helderon (true name: Daniel Holdberg) was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and had been a Hufflepuff student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before falling to the Dark side. The Muggle-born had allegedly held a grudge against pureblooded wizards throughout his life, and sought to improve the standing of Muggle-borns in society. He supposedly hit the last straw when the Ministry passed a decree stating that 'at least 85 Percent of the wizards constituting the Wizengamot must be purebloods'. His campaign lasted a total of eleven years, before he and his followers were caught in a Ministry-led ambush, and was killed fighting single-handedly against nearly fifty Aurors. Famous acts include the great pruning of the Travers, Mulciber and Parkinson families and the complete annihilation of the Bertrand and Crofter lines. Helderon's last words were rumored to be, "I am glad that I can face Death straight in the face and say 'I have tried my best'."

Memphistos (Reign: 1911-1913)

Little is known about Memphistos (true name unknown) except that he managed to conquer and hold the British, French and German Wizarding communities for two years before being defeated by a combined force of European Aurors from said communities, led by Bernard Schneider and Gaius Cornwall, who stormed his fortress in the Black Forest. Famous acts include the invention of the Memphistos' Bind and the Imperius Curse, and using it to take control the minds of Aurors to fight for him.

Grindelwald (Reign: 1940-1944)

Lord Grindelwald (true name: Adlar Grindelwald), arguably one of the most famous Dark wizards to walk the earth, committed some of the vilest acts known to humanity, including the mass torture and extermination of more than ten thousand wizards, and successfully managing to stir the Muggle communities into a world war. Grindelwald had been seeking to create a just world for all wizards and magical creatures- Dark or Light. It was said that he had been thrown into prison for a couple of years for vocally voicing out his opinions. Whatever it may have been, Grindelwald had actually managed to raise an army of nearly a hundred thousand Dark wizards and creatures in a full-blown war against the Light. He was most famous for leading his army into what is considered the largest and bloodiest single Magical battle in history, the Battle of Hell's Gates, which involved approximately four hundred thousand wizards from six European countries. He was defeated at Hell's Gates by then up and rising British wizard Albus Dumbledore.

Voldemort (Reign: 1961-1981)

Considered one of the most powerful Dark Lords of the century, almost nothing was uncovered about Lord Voldemort's past, though it was said that he attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at one point. Said to possess immense power unparalleled by anyone but Hogwarts Professor Albus Dumbledore, he was rumored to be disillusioned with the widespread tainting of Wizarding bloodlines by Muggle-borns in society, including the Ministry of Magic, which was then headed by Millicent Bagnold, a Muggle-born himself. Voldemort thus started a terrible rise to power, slaughtering thousands of innocent half-bloods and Muggle-borns and threw the British Ministry of Magic into massive disarray. Was famous for being defeated at the hand of a one-year old boy, Harry Potter, and his devising of steps to attain immortality, which led to rumors that he was still alive and would one day regain power. His most well-known saying was, "There is no good or evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it".

"Interested about Dark Wizards, are we?"

Harry jumped up in shock; he was so engrossed in the tome that he did not notice Alpheus entering.

"Master," he admonished, "You ought to have knocked."

"But alas, the door was not shut. Pay attention to your surroundings. Have I never taught you that?"

"So, Harry," he gestured to the thick leather-bound book, "What are your thoughts about them?"

Heroes… heroes who stood for their ideals and never gave up, his inner voice fed.

"I-I, I can't believe I'm saying this, but a part of me feels as though they should be respected for daring to fight for their beliefs."

"Bravery, courageous- words which might be used by some to describe them, or merely fools who aspire for the impossible?" Alpheus had cut in sardonically.

"But on the other hand, the heinous acts they committed, the very evil they are tainted with, the amount of innocent blood they had spilt-" His diatribe was rudely interrupted by his father, who bent his knees to his level and looked him in the eyes.

"Tell me, Harry. What defines good and evil? They are merely perspectives of each opposing party. A murderer might think that the deaths of his victims were deserved and he was doing the world a favor getting rid of them. Who justifies what is good and what is evil? Is it the various governments of the world? And what gives them the right to do so? Is the sentencing of a prisoner to get his soul ripped out by a Dementor not evil in itself?"

Harry was still not really convinced. "But they deserved it, do they not? Their ideals may be noble, but steps they took to seek it are, are not right," he finished rather lamely, "History has proven this, along with how good always triumph over evil, time and again."

Alpheus pointed to the book that Harry had left lying on the coffee table. "History is," he took out his wand and set the valuable volume alight with a simple 'Incendio', reducing it to nothing more than a pile of ashes, "but written by the victors."

"Think about it- What if Grindelwald had won at Hell's Gates? What if Dumbledore and the Light were crushed? What would the world be like now? Let me tell you- There would not be any unjustified laws and decrees oppressing the Dark creatures such as the vampires or werewolves. Practice of any type of magic, from Dark to Light might be commonplace. For all we know, the world could be a better place, and Grindelwald might be made out to be a hero in the books, with perhaps Dumbledore seen as a Dark Lord."

"And sometimes, we really do not have any options but do what is morally unethical in order to achieve a noble goal. Remember our motto, "The ends justify the means". Sometimes, we may be forced to kill, to plunder, all for the sake of creating a better world. Sometimes, sacrifices are necessary, to achieve 'the ends'. So bear in mind our motto, bear it in mind till the day you take your last breath, and even till then never forget it." Here he sighed, ruffling Harry's till-now messy jet black hair, "You have much to learn, my young apprentice."

He's right, you know…

"I understand, Master", he could only reply somberly.

"See that you do. I will meet you in the Practice Chamber in five minutes time", with that, he walked out of the room.

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As Harry walked briskly along smooth marbled corridor, he could not help but notice a tiny fidget up ahead near the potted hydracinth. The plant's enormous size had cast a dark shade around the turn, but it was not enough.

I think a lesson is needed…

With a cruel grin on his face, and before his rationale could stop him, he stalked over and stomped down as hard as he could on what had to be the brat's outstretched thigh.

'Ow', Daphne gave a loud shriek as she jumped up in pain. The slim girl turned a chilling glare at him and she rubbed his bruised leg. Not that he was totally at fault; moments ago she had been sporting a mischievous look whilst attempting to trip him. When will she ever remember that his eyes were extra sensitive to motion? No matter how dark it was, he could always detect the slightest bit of movement.

"Spoilsport," she pouted, "Aren't you going to help me up?"

"I should think not. If I had not done what I did, I would be the one sprawling on the floor asking for help instead."

Daphne's only response was to flash him a sad look, her ice-blue eyes wide like that of a doe's, to which Harry could only sigh. He hated it when she had that puppy-dog expression on. He never could resist it.

He extended a hand and pulled her to her feet, watching as she carefully dusted her delicate blue robes.

"What a brute… I thought you were supposed to be the nice, gentlemanly boy that Uncle Alpheus had so often bragged about?"

Harry gave a small chuckle as she grumbled all the way to his practice area. In no time, she would be smiling like a Cheshire cat while chattering nonstop. Such was her bubbly, energetic personality, even if she appeared more than a little cold towards strangers.

But Harry was still extremely grateful for her willingness to befriend him right off the start from the first few days he arrived at the Manor. Then, he had been friendless and lonely, to top it off, he was also clearly unpopular among the rest of his newfound relations. Even till now, his foster siblings Elaine and Julius were not too taken with him, with jealousy as the primary reason, he suspected, as Father seemed to spend much of his time with him.

"Why, I have to update my dictionary soon," he drawled, "I do not recall seeing the word nice in there."

Though Harry had to admit that she had a point, such violence coming from his part was distasteful and should be curbed. It would not do for a member of a dignified pureblooded family to be stomping about, or so Father would definitely tell him if he had heard of this. Much as he hated it, he was also forced to undergo training on proper pureblood etiquette, lest he 'embarrassed the noble line' as Father had said. It took a lot of getting used to what Alpheus described as 'walking with pride and dignity' and perhaps, the hardest of all was 'eating with grace'. Reason so was because Harry had been forced to, since young, see food as a rarely obtained luxury, thus he tended to gobble every morsel of food up as fast as he could shove it into his mouth, much to the extreme displeasure of any other family members around, and which usually earned him a stern chiding.

"Harry," Daphne whined, pulling a long face, though Harry could spy her glossy pink lips curving upwards, "I've been meaning to ask you, when we will be going swimming again? It has been a long time since we have done so. Must I really hammer up a sign 'Jump in now' before you will agree?"

Harry could not help but smile at the thought, and closed his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. "I do go for a swim everyday, not that I enjoy it of course. Is it my fault that you never wake before noon?"

Daphne remained silent, but her hands wandered down his back until they reached a particular spot around his abdomen, which she started to tickle mercilessly, causing Harry to nearly collapse in fits of laughter.

Trying to neaten his untamable hair, he threatened, "Stop it! Stop it, I say, or it's down to wands".

She gave a flip of her brown hair, scowling at him. She knew she never would be able to beat him, judging how much he had learned under her uncle.

"Damn family traditions. Bloody sexist they are. Maybe Elaine and I should form a secret group to practice magic. I bet we would be able to kick you boys' asses."

Harry rolled his eyes, snorting derisively. "Whatever would Uncle Demetrius say, seeing how vulgar and unladylike you've been lately?"

"Besides, kick my ass? For one, Father will take away your wand if he sees you doing magic without permission from any of the adults. He was the one who removed the Ministry Monitoring Charms from it, you know? For another, the only way I could lose is if Julius backstabs me as well", he said with his fast becoming trademark smirk.

They soon came to a stop in front of a pair of gilded, heavyset doors, on which the family crest was engraved. The doors swung open easily as though possessing eyes and spotting them.

Harry never failed to be amazed at how spacious the large expanse known as the Practice Chamber were each time he entered. Today was no exception. He also did not understand why there was such a need to build a great wide training area as this. Harry was pretty certain that at least eighty wizards and witches could train comfortably in here with enough space left over for a podium. He could only surmise that the family simply had to find something to splurge on.

As he walked towards the middle of the chamber, the floor shimmered with each footstep as though it was a puddle of water. It was the effects of the Cushioning Charms placed on the marble flooring.

As the pair neared, Alpheus raised an eyebrow, before pointing at the exit. He had never once allowed Daphne to stay on to watch whenever they trained, with the only exception being Harry's 'physical fitness' lessons. Said girl never would leave without a fight- first there was always her venomous glare, followed which by a fierce scowl, if that failed too she would simply sulk or flash the vulnerable doe look, all of which always failed to unshaken her uncle, who simply stared back at her, his face set and hardened, eyes remaining cold and emotionless as per usual. She eventually stormed out of the chamber, though not without first giving Harry the look- which meant that she would probably vent her anger on him hours later.

"I figured we will be doing a little brushing up on your swordplay today", with that, Alpheus gestured to a large rack housing a variety of swords and sabers.

Swordplay is what pureblooded wizards would term fencing or sword-fighting as. This is due to the fencing being a termed coined by Muggles, while the latter sounded too crude. Contrary to popular belief, wizards were in fact the first to invent the use of swords. Funny as it may sound, swordplay was developed as a stress-relieving and less exhausting alternative to Magical duelling. It was meant as a hobby or pastime, which then evolved throughout the ages to become part of pureblood culture. Each and every single self-respecting pureblooded family had centuries of history in the art of swordplay, also having their own distinctive style. Every year, there were a few major swordplay competitions, in which usually thousands of wizards attended. Prizes were awarded not only to the winners, but also to those who possessed the smoothest and most graceful duelling style.

It was influence from the Wizarding society that the use of swords spread over to Muggles who, according to Alpheus, "Corrupted it, twisting it to their vile whims, the barbarians that they are", when they made swords out as weapons of war, sole purpose being bloodshed.

Swords had never been used in Wizarding society as a weapon for battles or fighting. It was considered uncultured, sort of a taboo among the purebloods. A sword was something to be respected- each family had their own basic general design on every blade from the scimitar to the katana. Thus, in a swordplay duel, it was a disgraceful act if a participant loses or drops his blade.

Both Harry and Alpheus picked out long-swords; Harry's had an emerald encrusted obsidian hilt with a heavy pommel, which he felt steadied his grip, and a long straight steel blade, its tip viciously sharpened, light shining and dispersing off it, causing it to give off a menacing gleam.

They both performed the necessary Blunting Jinxes on the blade to render them harmless- A competitor scored a win the moment he lays a touch on the opponent- regardless of whether it being on the limbs, neck or torso.

Harry eased himself into the customary defensive stance; he was still currently too weak to even think of starting on the offense, and tensed himself.

Naturally, it was the elder man who made the first move, the thin sword bearing down towards Harry in a swift diagonal slash, which Harry hastily chose to parry. It turned out to be a bad choice and ruined whatever little defensive advantage he might have had, as Alpheus' stroke was strong and hard-hitting, the blow causing Harry to strain to his max in order to block. This was soon followed up by a sideways slash from Alpheus to his mid-waist.

Harry tilted his sword downwards in a quick becoming futile attempt to ward off the attack. This did not prove to be much use, as Harry was already forced to mere deflection of every stroke, never able to put in any of his own.

Managing to avoid the deep stab by sidestepping to his left, Harry attempted to drive the heavy pommel of his into the side of his Master's ribs, only to be nearly stunned by a winding kick to his abdomen.

Recovering quickly and rolling into a defensive crouch, Harry blocked another stab, and tried to go for an upward swipe. Alpheus brought his sword downwards forcefully, countering the blow, before twisting it under his apprentice's weapon, nearly making Harry drop his blade. In that momentary loss of concentration, Harry only narrowly avoided another stab by leaping backwards before trying to steady himself again.

Their swords flashed like liquid light, with Alpheus' smooth and fluid attacks contrasting against Harry's tense, hurried defending.

Minutes passed, and Harry was soon becoming overwhelmed by the heavy, relentless slashes and occasional stabs by his Master. In a desperate attempt to turn the tides of the duel, he decided to try to capitulate on his youth and greater mobility, rolling to the left to avoid the elder's vertical slash, then swift as a sparrow leaping forward, attempting to thrust the sword tip at the Alpheus' chest.

He had sorely underestimated the man's reactions, as he seemed to have anticipated something like this occurring, sending his blade up in a skyward swipe, relying on Harry's momentum to nearly topple him. The next thing Harry knew, he was close to falling backwards while feeling the length of the cool blade on his neck.

"Your swordplay needs a lot of work Harry; A lot indeed."

"Maybe it's just because you are too good, Master", Harry sulked.

His tutor fingered the blade delicately, while chuckling at him. "Perhaps so, but even then your reactions is pathetic. What did I ever tell you about learning to anticipate your opponent's moves? We will try again."

And so they did. There wasn't that much improvement, unless you consider Harry being able to hold his own for eight minutes instead of seven a great leap.

After ninety minutes of practice, in which Harry had found himself on the floor a grand total of eighteen times, they finally prepared to stop. Harry never thought that he would have loved the sight of Alpheus sheathing his sword more than today.

"Master, I've always wondered, why are swords never used in a Magical battle," he questioned, "I would think that swords enables one to attack and put an enemy down much faster. Besides, won't the use of swords offer an attacker greater mobility?"

That was something Harry had always wanted to know. The use of swords in battles seemed to make perfect sense to him.

Alpheus pondered his choices. No. It will be better to teach him a lesson.

"You want to know why wands will always be superior to swords; Fine. Raise your weapon and prepare to attack or defend."

Harry did as told, tightly gripping the shiny hilt with both hands, preparing to first avoid any incoming spells, then leaping to the offense. What Alpheus did was totally unexpected.

"Conlusor"

The older man had pulled out his wand, twirling it in a spiral, before jabbing it upwards.

Harry, who had been poised to duck an incoming jet or flash of light, watched entranced as the wand-tip seemed to glow brightly, with the intensity of a sun, before expanding outwards rapidly in the same second, looking like an enormous ripple of silver light rushing to flood the entire chamber. Accompanying it was a tremendous 'Bang' sound, similar to that of a gunshot.

He could only gaze in awe and wonder, before his world had gone completely black…

He felt the world coming into focus after what seemed like an eternity. In the two years he had been under the tutelage of Alpheus, his master had never taught him a spell of this power. He felt drawn, drawn to its immense effects like ants to honey…

"Master, what in Slytherin's name was that?", he asked, eyes bulging frantically.

Mr. Greengrass smiled to himself; the boy had cultivated a strange passion for spells of any significant power. He reminisced how Harry had scoured all the basic Magical texts feverishly for any spells which could bring harm, or incapacitate an opponent.

"It is a stronger variant of the Stunning Spell you have been taught. I did not think that you would be able to master it- The wand movement and incantation involved may be simple, but the spell needs a good bit of power behind it. The spell incapacitates anybody unshielded in a strong radius. The more magically adapt the wizard, the larger the radius. Ordinary Shield Charms would not be able to negate the spell either."

"Now do you understand why a wand can always brush aside a sword?"

But Harry's focus had already been lost, enraptured as he was by the new spell.

"Can I try it?"

Alpheus had of course consented. He knew that Harry would be able to perform the spell, but perhaps with a little help from him.

He watched as the boy started waving his wand in the correct pattern, his eyes lit with a glow, as he futilely attempted to cast the spell. He could practically sense the growing frustration in Harry, as try after try failed. He watched on… emotionlessly as the boy gave another shot, his hands clutching the wand in obvious concentration, but alas, only managing to produce a flickering silver glow.

"Think about the Dursleys; how you had been treated, how you had been beaten. Think about how you had been forced to go for days without food. Imagine the feel of the whip on your body, imagine how your skin cracks open and bleed. Remember how they jeer at you as you writhe on the floor in pain. Imagine how much pain they had caused you… Picture in your mind how badly you want to capture them, how you want to kill them, how you want to tear them apart with your very hands. Crush them all…"

He watched on in ecstasy as they boy screwed his eyes, shaking, clenching his fists. Spells were usually magnified by emotions, be it happiness, rage, hatred, sadness, or love. Harry by rights would not be powerful enough to cast the spell yet, but as he said, with a little help… Anyway, he knew what these spasms of rage would do to the boy. Harry was already suffering the mental aftermath of hi past experiences, perhaps helping feed his demon within could bend his mind, turn him into the perfect puppet; a vicious puppet indeed…

He watched as Harry, with blazing eyes and a glazed look on his face, raised his wand and prepared to cast.

Harry's mind was filled with an avalanche of images, none of them positive. Alpheus' voice seemed to echo in his head. He remembered the starvation, the punishments, the sneers and jeers, his enslavement in Number Four.

Kill them… Rip them apart… Crush them… Kill! Kill!

"CONLUSOR!", he bellowed.

Alpheus had expected this outcome. Quick as a flash, his wand was up, waved in a complicated series of movements. A large round golden colored shield materialized in front of him, conjured from thin air, engraved with a coiled python, light gleaming off its thick surface.

The silver flash splashed upon the shield harmlessly, leaving behind no visible damage.

Alpheus turned to Harry, now shaking his head, as though trying to clear his mind. He walked over to his adopted son and apprentice, face molded into an expression of remorse and sadness.

"Harry, I'm really sorry," rubbing the boy's back in a seemingly fatherly gesture, "I do hope you know this is for your own good. Learn forth the spells, and eventually put your demons to rest. You will then find a peace of mind. After all, what happened is already in the past. We should learn to make the best out of these experiences" he soothed the boy, hugging him gently.

On his face was a wicked smile.

I think he is ready. Perhaps he can be introduced sooner; he should be able to handle it, perhaps…

My longest chapter yet! Subtracting the various rants, I would say this is around 7000 words. If you enjoyed this chapter, review! If you do not really enjoy it, or could find fault with it, also review and ell me what is wrong. I always love constructive criticism.

Regarding the way the votes are going, Harry seems on his way to the House of the Serpents. But he won't be going to Hogwarts for at least one chapter, so if you think he should not be in Slytherin, it is still not too late to express your opinions.

As for Animagus form, I am still undecided, but one thing is for sure, I will write one if I manage to think of a plot line to tie in his form.

Next chapter, we will see more of interaction between Harry and the Greengrass'. I promise a magical duel too. We will also get to see his familiar. (It won't be any sort of fantastic creature, not to worry. I should think it is pretty unique.)

I hope no one takes offence for my inclusion of swords. I know I have fallen into the Sea of Cliché, but not to worry. To all magic-purists, fret not, spell duels will still and forever comprise the main part of the story's battles. I do have a reason for the inclusion of swordplay- It will serve a purpose when Harry begins his rise to power. I will not tell now, but if someone manages to guess what purpose the sword will play, I will reveal the answer. :D

Once again, please review!

Lucullus