CHAPTER 5: Return to Grimmauld Place

Harry spent the next few weeks continuing the daily routine of running, training, and talking about anything that Harry wanted to discuss. Harry had become very adept with his sword, managing to fend off increasingly difficult attacks by the Scot. He began to realize that as he became more skilled, the attacks started to slow down in his mind, giving him the opportunity to react just as McClaggan started his attack. Despite the fact that his senses had become more and more acute, Harry still wasn't able to detect the Highlander if the man didn't want him to. Breannan, however, assured him that he was good enough to sense most humans, including those with weaker silencing or disillusionment charms. He also told him that with the combination of his training and chameleon like cloak he would be a very hard person to detect, unless he didn't mind being seen.

Harry awoke at the same time as always, and prepared to go for his run. He had been wearing his sword during these runs, as a matter of fact he had been wearing it at all times, except when he was sleeping. He stepped outside into the cool morning air and started running through the mist. He had been running in different directions everyday, but always seemed to end up back at the old stone cottage.

After about forty-five minutes of running, Harry had been running for a bit longer everyday, more because everyday it took a little longer for McClaggan's house to appear, he came to a clearing and assumed it marked the end of his run. However, when he drew nearer to the building he realized that it wasn't his Professor's house, it was a stone structure of some sort.

"Did you ever wonder why I told you I'd be able to find you if you couldn't find your way home?" Asked the familiar Scottish brogue. Harry looked up to see Breannan sitting in a small stone-carved seat on the top of the small, two-story structure. He walked up the steps so he was face to face with the Scot, but he found that his focus was drawn over the edge of the structure. When he peered into the distance he realized that he could see miles of rolling green hills, covered in that light mist he had become so accustomed to.

"If you look in that direction, you can see the tip of my house." The professor told him with a smile. "I am not surprised that you found this place, I have sensed that Spinners End was going to show you its secrets."

Before Harry could ask the man continued in a voice that was deep and calming. His smooth brogue almost sounded like it was a dream. "When I first learned about this place, I was told that the history of Spinners End couldn't be conveyed, it could only be seen. No matter how much I searched, I wasn't able to find this place until the country thought I was ready. Now that you have found it, I know that you must be ready too. You will be the third person to view the secrets that this place holds, are you ready?"

Harry was in a trance like state until this question snapped him out of it. He wasn't sure what all of this meant, but he knew by the look on his mentor's face that he was about to find out.

The Scot stood up and motioned for Harry to sit down in the now vacant seat. When Harry sat down he felt the cool mist swirling around him. He closed his eyes, and when he reopened them he realized that he was no longer looking at the present, he was in a memory. Yet it was different then when he entered Dumbledore's penseive or Riddle's journal, he was still sitting in the same seat, and he was no longer in control of his body, Spinners End was moving him so he saw exactly what he was supposed to see.

Harry looked around for the first time and realized that there was a huge battle raging around him. There were men wearing a bright red clothe over thick, metal armor, facing off against men wearing skirts that Harry recognized immediately as kilts, but no armor. He knew that these must've been Scottish warriors. The two sides fought bravely, and Harry saw many men from both sides fall to swordsmen. Harry didn't, however, feel sorry or mad at these deaths, he realized that this was how they would want to die, fighting bravely in a battle.

Harry was suddenly lifted from his seat and felt himself glide over the fields where the battle raged. He stopped before a Scottish warrior wielding a blade emitting a soft green glow. The man was striking down attackers as quickly as they ran at him, the sword he wielded would rip through their armor without even a sign of trouble. What was more was that the sword never seemed to dull, in fact there was not even a hint of blood on it.

Harry watched as the man fought fiercely, and drew more and more attention from both sides. Harry knew he must've been the strongest warrior on that field, seeing how the Scots rallied around him and the men with thick, shiny armor, raced over to fight him.

Harry wasn't able to watch much longer as he was carried away from the man. He found himself next to a small man, cowering in fear away from the heat of the battle. For some reason Harry didn't feel sorry for him, seeing other men willing to fight and die while this man sat down on the other side of the field. However Harry saw a look of determination creep into his eyes as he stood up, and Harry noticed for the first time that he was a Scot. He walked a few steps to where a long bow and quiver of arrows lay on the blood soaked earth. When he picked the weapon up and fitted and arrow onto the string Harry could see that his hands were trembling.

The man brought the bow up and closed one eye to get a better line of sight. Harry could see that he was taking aim towards the heated battle, but couldn't see exactly who he was aiming for.

"Goodbye, my friend" the man said in a quivering voice. A chill ran through Harry's bones as he heard the words, the Scot was about to shoot down his friend, and Harry had a feeling he knew who was about to be hit.

As if in answer to Harry's thoughts the man leased the arrow and sent it shooting towards the Scot Harry had been watching just moments before. As the arrow struck the man, Harry saw that he was now standing next to him. The Scottish warriors that had been around him before were lying at his feet, and an endless wave of armor clad men were rushing at him.

The man let out a gasp when the arrow found his chest, and his eyes went wide with shock. It was the same look Sirius had when he fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. The man tried to keep fighting, but after striking down to more men his knees buckled, his eyes were still wide as he fought to hold onto his life. His sword was held loosely at his side, and one of the armor clad men stepped in, obviously wanting to take advantage of the moment. He lifted his sword, preparing to strike the final blow, when he stopped.

"I can't!" He screamed to the rest of the soldiers. "This man has fought bravely, and I cannot defile his death!" The man laid his sword down in front of the Scot and knelt down. He opened his mouth as if to speak to him when Harry saw that his eyes went wide, another man had ran a sword through his stomach from behind.

"Then if you are too weak, I will finish it." He hissed in a cold voice. The man stepped over his fallen comrade and plunged his bloody sword into the Scot. As his adversary fell, the killer picked up the glowing sword. He lifted it above his hand, but as he did this the sword lost its green glow, and began to glow bright red. The killer obviously saw this because he brought the sword down in front of his face. He let out an awful scream as his hand started to erupt in boils. Suddenly the sword burst out of his hand, the man fell to his knees. Harry watched as the sword arced gracefully overhead, no longer glowing. The sword landed, the blade sticking into the ground. Harry realized that something was about to happen, and seconds later saw that he was right. There was a huge eruption from the sword, and white clouds rushed forward.

Harry watched as both the Scot and the man that was killed from behind by the now crippled murderer were lifted from the ground, white light emitting from their mouths, eyes, and ears. Harry couldn't see for a minute as the light pulsed. When the light died away Harry saw that the murderer was lying on the ground, dead. The dead men that had riddled the battlefield were no longer there, and Harry knew that it must have been their spirits making up the mist. He couldn't explain how he knew this, he just did. The survivors turned on their heels and ran, to where Harry would never know.

"Do you understand now, Harry?" Came the familiar voice of Breannan McClaggan. Harry felt everything spinning around him. When he reopened his eyes he saw that the man was staring into his eyes, the hood no longer covering his face. "Don't bother going over what you just saw, you already understand it. I also doubt that you'd be able to say what you were thinking."

Harry just nodded as he stood up from the seat. He made his way down the stairs, still lost in thought. He walked for a few moments before seeing McClaggan's house in front of him. When he opened the door he saw his Professor sitting at the table with Albus Dumbledore.

"Harry," Breannan began in his thick brogue, "You saw what you just saw because Spinners End has decided you were ready to go home. You are finished with your grieving period, just remember what I told you. Also, we will keep training when you arrive at Hogwarts, I needed to ask you, however, what classes you will be taking aside from those already planned for you."

"Oh. I had forgotten about that. I'd like to do both dueling and Advanced Defense against the Dark Arts, but I think if I'm going to be working with Professor McGonagall I should only take the Advanced class, I already know how to duel."

"Well said, Harry." Dumbledore said, standing up from the table. "I have come to get you and your things. We will be traveling to Headquarters, where you will spend the rest of the summer. I would also ask you to remember that while you seem to have moved on, there are others that will be suffering from Sirius' death."

Harry nodded, his thoughts immediately going to Remus Lupin, the last of the Marauders. Harry went upstairs and collected his belongings. He returned a few minutes later, carrying his trunk.

"Before you go, Harry." McClaggan began. "Be on a look out for your sword's properties. I have a feeling it will be revealing its magic to you soon." Harry nodded and shook hands with his professor. Harry realized that this was the first physical contact he had had with the man in the two months he was living with him.

"What could we use as a portkey, Breannan?" Dumbledore asked with a smile.

"Here, take one of your bloody shot glasses back." McClaggan walked over to the fridge, where Harry saw there were about thirty shot glasses.

"Here Harry, take hold of this." Harry did as he was told and felt the familiar sensation of being hooked behind his navel.

Harry looked around when he landed, noticing that Grimmauld place seemed much cleaner than last year.

"Welcome back, Harry." Dumbledore whispered from next to him.