Review Responses:

Lordheaven: I'm glad to have your approval- really! And I want to thank you for your help, having an insider's opinion is invaluble! I'm afraid you'll have to wait just a little longer for Harry's Parslemouth ability to make its grand entrance; Harry has to get a little bit used to the life at Zotzion-- remember, it's technically only his second day! The pace will pick up a bit once all the classes are introduced, along with new characters, and with it--surprises and cliffhangers! Heheheh! I'd be glad to look at your story, though I have to warn you, I don't really know anything about StarGate, and I've only watched the old movie versions of Star Trek-- heck, I still don't know their names! Lol. Thanks for your help with the seasons and the langauge, it's helping a lot, and I hope I do it justice. If I don't, please correct me! Thanks for your help and support! --ASL.

MinorMistake99: Glad to know you liked the chapters, and that you reviewed! Harry will change immensly at Zotzion, though which direction and how, XD you don't get to know yet. Once Harry settles down a bit and the shock of going to an out-of-contry University fades some, you'll hear more of the Order and Harry's friends.Thanks again for your support, I'm always gald to read your reviews. --ASL.

I also want to thank One Phoenix, pla303, mrmistoffelees, ForeverUsed, albert87, and Necessary-Evil for your reviews, they mean a lot to me! I want to apologize for the delays in updating, school is absolutely hectic right now, loads of hw and other obnoxious things, XD. But I'll try to write the next chap as soon as I can. Thanks again for reading! --A.S. Leif

--Thanks goes to Lordheaven for helping me with Bulgarian seasonsand language!--

Chapter 18: Black, Blue, and Bulgarian Language

Shortly after lunch, Harry followed Ivaylo back to Dareios' quarters, along with Sergei, who was talking to the dark-skinned warlock in rapid Bulgarian. I can't wait till I actually get a word about what they're saying, Harry thought to himself. Yakov had agreed to spend part of the free time they received with Harry in the library, studying Bulgarian and also assisting him with the homework he hadn't been able to understand. All Harry really could hope for was that the books weren't all written in Bulgarian too.

The lesson with Dareios last two hours, going over various forms of fighting: both magical and medieval. Harry blinked upon hearing what exactly he was going to learn. "You mean you're-" he stopped and put a hand over his heart.

Dareios sighed gruffly, "Yes?"

"Are you going to teach me to use weapons? Like swords and stuff?" Harry asked. He saw Ivaylo roll his eyes.

"Is that, or is that not what I said?" Dareios replied sharply. "I will not repeat myself to a student. You must learn to listen, boy." Harry placed his hand over his heart again, causing his Sponsor to say, "We are having a discussion boy, it is pointless to interrupt the flow of it by the overuse of that gesture. What is it?"

"Well Sir," Harry began, slightly frustrated by this new turn in Protocol. "I was curious as to why we would be learning something like that."

"Why?" he exclaimed. "Why?" He broke of into a flood of exasperated Bulgarian, shaking his head. "Boy, why are you taught to duel?"

"To defend myself, Sir."

"Then why might you be taught to fight?"

"To defend myself, Sir."

"Tell me truly boy, was that so hard to figure out?"

"No Sir."

"Then why must you ask me for every miniscule reason when you might be able to use whatever common sense you posses?"

Great, back to the insulting jabs at Harry's intelligence. "Because Sir, I was wondering why we would be learning that type of defense." He said, trying to keep his voice even.

"Why indeed? Logical reasoning, boy; everyone can use a bit of it, even you." Dareios replied, leaning back in his chair. "Think past what your school has taught you of close-mindedness, boy. Past whatever petty reasons they gave you that were supposedly the answers to all your questions. For once think past what you have been told."

Harry swallowed his anger—he didn't need another episode like the one he'd had earlier... Instead of giving a sharp reply, Harry thought about it. Why bother use something that was practiced hundreds of years ago? Magic was faster, more efficient, more standard. There were more tricks to it that gave you an edge. It wasn't odd, everyone used it...wait...everyone did use it. "Magic's common," he murmured, "No one uses swords and things like that anymore."

Dareios cocked an eyebrow. "Continue."

"Learning different methods gives you the advantage, even though something else like magic might be faster, or you might know more about it," Harry went on, growing more confident in his answer, "That doesn't mean it will help you. People expect you to use magic in a duel: it's faster, it's easier, and it's less noticeable than carrying around a sword on your belt." He looked eagerly at his Sponsor, "Right?"

"Barely."

Ouch.

"You have the idea, boy," Dareios went on, "But not the right reasoning. Ivaylo? Perhaps you can fill in the gaps."

Ivaylo inclined his head and said, "Magic is not always faster, and it is never simple. A sword can flash before your enemy even has a chance to think of what curse to use. Magic is not less noticeable, all the flaring lights that are spells, or the effects of them, are noticed at all times. A weapon such as a sword can be hidden, so your opponent has no idea what lies in store."

Dareios nodded. "Correct." He looked at Harry sternly. "I suggest you remember that; your Theory of Magic and Reasoning class will stretch your mind to its limits with those sort of problems. You had best start working on it—you have a long way to go, boy."

The three of them then went into the Control Room and did...stretches, Harry mentally groaned. A half hour of torture ensued, leaving Harry's legs smarting and muscles that he hadn't even known he had stinging like crazy. "If you do them before bed and before you got up, they wouldn't hurt." Dareios said with a smirk as he 'assisted' Harry in bending down farther. The wizard rolled his eyes and noticed that Ivaylo was nearly as flexible as Dareios himself.

Why couldn't I be learning with the twins again? Harry thought to himself as he massaged his aching calf. Ivaylo just ignores me, like a fly on the wall... He had no further time to pity himself, for Dareios then brought out three stout, wooden sticks, one which he tossed to Ivaylo, and the other to Harry. His Seeker reflexes allowed Harry to swiftly catch the item in his right hand; thank Merlin, one thing had been easy!

Just as he was readjusting his grip on the handle of the wooden sword and listening to Dareios explain that defensive maneuvers would be first on the list, something smacked him hard on the ribs. "OW!" Harry yelped, jumping aside and rubbing the assaulted area. He glared at Ivaylo. "What was that for?"

"If you had been paying attention, boy," Dareios growled, "You would have picked up on the fact that Ivaylo will be your opponent until you progress—Merlin knows how long that shall take." Harry flushed. "Now get a proper grip on your weapon and defend yourself! Ivaylo—low block demonstration." Ivaylo swiftly lowered his sword and parried Dareios' strike towards his knees and upper leg. Harry watched how the wizard kept his eyes on Dareios' blade rather than his own.

"Your turn, boy." As soon as Dareios spoke, Ivaylo struck, hitting Harry sharply on the leg. Harry swatted at the opposing weapon—and missed. "Pay attention, boy!" Dareios called sharply as Ivaylo's wooden sword came lunging forward. It wasn't until he'd been hit seven times that Harry actually managed to deflect him ever-so-slightly, resulting in a hit that didn't hurt quite as much. Once he managed to block five times in a row completely, they moved on to the middle block, and Harry was hit on the ribs, stomach, and lower arms.

"You'll have no limbs left in a real duel if you keep this up, boy," their Sponsor drawled. "And broken bones if you're so lily-footed."

Harry's face went redder as he struggled to catch on to the pattern of the middle-strike. Once he somewhat successfully blocked five times, the high block was introduced. A flurry of blows to his shoulders, chest, and upper arms sent Harry's balance out the window. Growing angry with the bored looks Ivaylo was giving him, Harry slapped his opponent's sword aside and lunged in himself. Ivaylo's eyes widened in surprise as Harry managed to hit him on the shoulder—barely. The tip of his sword had just tapped the area when Ivaylo's own weapon slithered up and slapped Harry's wrist, then twisted the wooden blade out of his hand.

Dareios caught the sword that flew into the air and glared at Harry. "You must listen to instructions boy," he growled, "To ignore them could get you killed—you will serve a demerit on Saturday, after breakfast—here. Understood?"

"Yes Sir." Harry muttered, his breathing heavy. Dareios gruffly tossed the sword back and Harry caught it, ready for the next succession of blows. As they moved on to a mixture of the three blocks, Harry thought with an inner groan, I'm going to be black and blue all over by morning...

Aching and tired, Harry gathered his writing tools and wearily put them into his bag as he stuffed his newly-updated map into his sleeve. He had received permission from Dareios to go to the library for his free time; the Sponsor hadn't even so much as asked if Harry knew where he was, and none of the other fellows had offered to tell him. Good thing Yakov said to meet near the main hall, Harry thought to himself as he trudged out the door, running a throbbing hand through his already-messy hair. Occasionally he passed a student or two, but they didn't pay him much attention other than a quick glance. Personally, he didn't care—he was too sore for it to matter.

When he finally reached the hall, he saw Yakov waiting for him, his nose buried in a book with an Italian title. Harry leaned against the wall nearby, deciding to wait for his friend to find a spot to finish. After five minutes, Harry decided that—like Hermione—Yakov could go on reading forever and not notice anything else. A pang shot through him as Harry remembered his friend... Not even a full two days yet, and he was already missing them. His throat tightened as he thought of Ron, Remus, and Ginny. "Good book?" he queried, trying to get those thoughts out of his head.

Yakov jumped with a yelp, causing Harry to laugh. The Bulgarian wizard glowered. "Tat vas not polite." He grumbled, straightening his robes.

Harry grinned. "Consider it payback for the drink during lunch—the Reeka."

"Rakia," Yakov sighed, "I do not see how ve are going to get you to understand the Bulgarian language if you can not pronounce something as simple as Rakia."

"It still reeked," Harry retorted, "I don't see how you can drink that stuff—it's vile."

Yakov smiled. "You vill change your opinions of many things before you leave, of tat I can assure you. Come, ve should start going to the library."

As they began to walk, Yakov pointed out some of the things that would help Harry remember. He told funny stories about the incidents that had caused some of the scratches or burns on the walls to appear—an accident in a potion had resulted in a fire-breathing rabbit with fangs that was twice the size of any person and with a taste for upholstery. They reached the fifth floor via a long spiral staircase, which led to a platform that was the beginning of one of the extremely-thin bridges connecting the towers of Zotzion. Harry balked at the archway leading to it, and his jaw hung at the view.

Shreds of grey clouds hovered about the towers. A light, misty fog hung around the bridge, swirling and catching the sunlight like miniature crystals. Frost coated the handrails and icicles draped in various sizes from the bottom of the bridge. The black stone that it was made of glittered, shining with a light coat of ice and soft patches of snow. But beyond the bridge was the true marvel: the land. All near the top of the mountains there were forests, all covered in pure-white snow, untouched and perfect, reflecting the light of the sun and sparkling like a carpet of cold, liquefied diamonds. The sun beyond the mountains, sinking slightly with the hour of the season, cast a bright, but soft light through the clouds—intense, but not painful. And beyond the tall mountains, at the bases of them, the land was lush and green, still warm. He spotted in the distance, bodies of water that were bright, azure blue, and orchards that spread like flowering blankets over the rolling hills. The wind rushed down low near the ground of the University campus, tossing drifts of snow from the branches as is mischievously spiraled upwards. It swirled around Harry in a rush, tugging at his heavy cloak and book-bag, causing him to stumble and be caught by the chuckling Yakov.

"This place was so creepy from below," Harry murmured.

"I told you tat your opinions vould change," Yakov replied, smugly amused. "But enough of the gawking—ve have things to do."

Harry then remember that he would have to cross the bridge. "Isn't it a little...slippery?" he asked as he tentatively stepped out onto the ice.

Yakov strolled forward confidently, "It is only a light glaze of ice, you vill be fine. The boots you are vearing, they have a grip on them vhich vill make it easier to valk."

Trusting that his friend knew what he was saying, Harry resisted the playful—but dangerous—wind and walked forward at a steady, slow pace. Yakov muffled his chuckle as Harry pulled up his scarf to ward off the cold. "Hey, I wasn't born an ice cube, okay?" Harry sighed, resisting the urge to laugh at himself as well. Yakov only grinned and led the way inside.

The library was an enormous circular room at the top of the tower, the walls covered in bookcases and lamps, rich rugs carpeting the ground, and braziers dotted throughout the place, far away, however, from any flammable papers. There were various nooks and tables for studiers, along with chairs and single desks for those who preferred to study alone or just read. The number of bookcases was overwhelming—they filled through the room like dominos, stuffed full of books and scrolls, the likes of which Harry had never seen, written in all sorts of languages and runes. He had hoped that not all things were in Bulgarian, well, they weren't—they were in all other languages.

Yakov was quite at home here, his owlish appearance and bookish nature making him a natural addition to the library, and he easily maneuvered through the tight spaces, past other study groups to a carved-out area tucked behind a large statue of a wolf and near an English selection of texts; it had a window to provide light, a small circular table and three worn, but comfortable, armchairs, which sat sheltered from the noise of the rest of the library. "You vill have to rent books from the library to take with you to classes," Yakov said as they sat down, "Since you vere so quickly accepted into the University. But ve shall do tat later. Now, ve vill work on your understanding of the Bulgarian language."

"Basics?" Harry asked hopefully.

Yakov chuckled. "Vith a mix of the terminology you need to finish your Artifact Properties homevork. Now, let's begin vith greetings—I vould get out paper and ink if I vere you. To say 'hello' to someone you do not yet know, or someone you respect, you say: 'Zdraveyete'..."