Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to queen of the lake for being the first reviewer.
Miss Moony would also like to thank Bookworm, fearthewrathofra, pixy, Fierhedgehog, Elemental-sorceror, Goddess Bless, Angus Dei and Jane Silver for reviewing.
To fearthewrathofra: Umm… I'm not exactly sure what to say to that, except thanks. I'm touched that you like the fic so much – truly.
To Jane Silver: But he has. Harry's magic can do all that and more (well, maybe not to quite such an extent), which is what makes it so interesting. Anyhow, I've already got most of the story written, and the Circle characters' magic doesn't play much of a part (yet?); I'm trying, I promise. Don't hurt me?
To queen of the lake: Wow. I didn't like that chapter at all; it was written on writer's block, and I couldn't get it to flow properly. Thanks!
------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------
Chapter 11
Harry had always been more adept at wandless magic than most of the population of the Wizarding World; after all, he'd learned from the best, Albus Dumbledore. However, even he was not immune to its draining effect.
It really was a pity, he decided, that his wand had not survived the journey. And that there were no convenient phoenix feathers or wand-wood trees anywhere nearby.
'Harry?' He opened his eyes to see Daja in the doorway to his and Briar's room, which was surprising, because Briar and Glaki were usually the only ones who dared approach him when he had his closed: that had been a hard-learned lesson for Tris, who had been on the receiving end of his petrificus totalus.
'Luncheon,' she said simply at his enquiring look. He nodded and pulled himself to his feet, idly fingering the trunk-shaped pendant on the chain around his neck.
'What's in that thing?' Briar had asked during the one time he'd seen in unshrunk. Harry had shot him a scathing look and replied that it was none of his business.
Of course, that had only been because he'd heard the story of how Niko had confiscated Briar's knives, and he didn't want his own weapons to receive the same treatment… Or any of his other possessions that would be considered "dangerous" in the hands of someone as mentally unstable as he was.
He silently ran over the inventory as he followed Daja to the kitchen: Throwing knives, daggers, various poisons and antidotes, healing potions, wand (no, not wand), photo album, invisibility cloak, spell books, battle robes, underwear, penseive with fake memories, etc, etc…
'What?' he asked after lunch, when the whole table stared at him with a strange combination of apprehension and expectancy.
There was silence for a moment, then Tris spoke up. 'We're going to the baths,' she said, 'and you're coming with us.'
Harry stiffened, but really, he knew that he was beginning to smell, so he couldn't really complain, and when they left ten minutes later, Harry went right along with them.
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Briar watched in amusement as Harry's face turned a shocking shade of pink.
'Communal baths?' Harry managed to squeak out in horror, and Briar was forced to hide a smile.
'Communal baths,' Niko replied, rather snappishly, and looking at Harry with no small amount of irritation.
Harry nodded, gulping, and joined in as Briar, Niko, Keth and Comas undressed.
He slipped into the water only a few moments later, still dressed in his underwear, and Briar only had to look at him – wide-eyed – to realise why he had been so dismayed at the idea of sharing a bath.
They hadn't given him a bath before he "woke up", or even attempted to undress him, for fear of how he would react, and afterwards, he'd always changed while Briar was out of the room. Consequentially, this was the first chance that he'd had to see the markings that covered the younger boy's body.
Scars littered most of his skin, and there was a large burn mark covering the flesh from just below the right side of his neck down to his forearm, and spilling over the side slightly so that it covered a small part of his chest and back as well.
Most curious, though, were the numerous tattoos on his chest, back and arms, or so Briar thought. Some were underneath Harry's scars, and some were even hardly noticeable, having been almost charred off.
'What do they mean?' Briar asked, frowning, and Harry looked at him in surprise.
'What?' he asked.
'The tattoos,' Briar replied. 'There are so many of them that they must mean something.'
Harry scowled slightly, but shocked Briar after a moment's silence (Niko, Keth and Comas were now also shamelessly listening in) when he came out with a straight answer. 'Each one represents a friend or family member who died during either of the two wars against Voldemort.' He turned around and continued, 'The stag on my shoulder is for my father, and the flower next to it is for my mother. The wolf is for Professor Lupin – he was one of my dad's best friends. The rabbit is for Seamus Finnegan, and the stallion is for Dean Thomas. Underneath that there's a lavender for Lavender Brown, and the blue and red unicorns are for Padma and Parvati Patil. The rainbow is for Tonks: Nymphadora Tonks.' He turned around again, and began pointing out the ones on his arms and chest.
'Cho Chang,' his finger hovered above a swan positioned near the bottom of his ribcage. 'Luna Lovegood,' a strange animal near his neck, that Briar couldn't identify. 'It's a crumple-horned snorkack,' he explained, and Briar found himself nodding, despite the fact that he had no idea what a crumple-horned snorkack was.
'I thought I should probably have one for Professor Snape, too, even though we never liked each other much, because of what he sacrificed for the cause,' he was now pointing at a black snake on the front of his left shoulder. 'The badger's for Susan Bones, and the two monkeys are for Fred and George Weasley. The fox is for Ron Weasley, and the otter next to it is for Hermione Granger. The owl is for Ron's brother, Percy.'
He paused again, and moved his hand until it was hovering above an image of two intertwined angels. 'That's for Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan. The stoat is for Zacharias Smith, and the cherub is for Justin Finch-Flechley.' He pointed at a striped cat, 'Professor McGonagall,' he said, then pointed at a bumblebee on his side, 'Professor Dumbledore.'
'This one's for Ginny Weasley,' a weasel, ironically. 'Mr and Mrs Weasley,' a lion and lioness. The phoenix buried underneath his burn was apparently dedicated to someone called Bill Weasley, and the dragon underneath it was for Charlie Weasley. 'Padfoot,' he said, looking at one of the larger marks on his left forearm: 'Padfoot is my godfather, Sirius Black.'
He paused, and closed his eyes, gulping, before moving his hand to point at what looked like a tiger. 'Mad-Eye Moody – his real name was Alastor – that's because of the saying, "an old tiger is at its fiercest when it senses that its end is near". Mad-Eye was both paranoid and very fierce.' He smiled half-heartedly, clearly lost in memories, but when he pointed at the last mark, his eyes started tearing up.
It was a panther, and it seemed to be holding a small white mouse delicately in its jaws. Its position was directly above his heart. 'The mouse is me,' he said, his voice quiet, 'because I go all squeaky when I'm nervous. It's what Blaise used to call me. He's the panther. Blaise Zabini.'
It took Briar a moment to realise that he had finished his speech, but as soon as he did, he burst out with a question. 'Why is Blaise Zambini right over your heart?'
Harry snapped out of his daze, and seemed to realise who he was spilling his heart out to. 'It's Zabini, not Zambini. There's no "m",' he snapped. 'And he's there because I loved him more than anyone or anything else in the entire universe.'
Briar flinched away from the younger boy's scowl, and it wasn't long before the bath-house filled with Keth and Niko's chatter. Briar was silent, though, thinking about everything he'd just been told.
