Asagi5 presents to you a story about hypocrisy, deception, betrayal and the people caught up in it all.

NEW BLOOD INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY

Chapter Nine

A Glance into the Looking Glass of a Hero

Personal Journal: Harry Potter

One week into Summer School at New Blood International Academy

I have always been lazy, a bit self-centered and stubborn. I'll admit that much. New Blood is especially hard for me because it demands far more effort than I want to give. It has only been a week yet I've spent the short time I've been here second guessing myself. The workload is truly frightening and stressful and I am not Hermione. I do not live for knowledge and the random moments of sniffing new books.

ADOM has become my most depressing class. There are times, whilst lying breathless on the ground covered in blood, mud and welts from my class of the day, that I wonder what am I doing? I originally wanted to come here for myself only to find out that even here I can't escape from this madness that is Voldemort. Why the hell should I care about a world filled with hate and ugliness? Why should saving all these people be so important to me?

I am no hero.

I've hated so many people in my short life. My 'friends' at Hogwarts would have been shocked at my true thoughts of some of them. I have always been amazed by how easily people accepted this mask presented to them on a platter of humour, innocence and charm. Is it really so easy to believe this melted plastic smile built on guile and caution is real? Is that why you wait for me to save you?

I'm no hero.

The day I arrived on this island I found out that it wasn't enough that my scar was possessed by a piece of that freak's dirty soul but that there was an actual prophecy made about Voldemort and myself. Apparently unlike Dumbledore, the Customs people here had no reservations about giving me bad news. At least they sealed the thing.

Is it selfish to have these thoughts?I don't want to save them. I don't love them. I don't even like most of them. I want to live my life without these verminous insects pestering me. I want to make ripples and splashes not waves.

I am not a hero.

I will deal with Voldemort because I have no choice. It's not to save you bastards it's to save myself. I detest him for forcing me into this position, I detest you for accepting it and I hate myself for being too weak to say no. Why is it so hard to remain a bystander? Can't you see I'm not waving but drowning?*

I'm not a fucking hero.

I'm not.

But I am an Evans. I'm beginning to realise that's something to be proud of.

Nikita

She was sharp, cynical, cold and calculating. She had absolutely no training as completely evident by the lack of consciousness of body movements and the way her guileless questions gave away her greatest secret. She should not have noticed the runes floating around the property but she did. She should not have gravitated to and be fascinated by the blood fed fish in the aquarium yet she was. Every single item in this place was geared towards identifying a member of the Clan with their unique abilities. The special reiryoku pulled at them, different items identifying various levels of strength of the person. That she could feel any of them at all should have been as impossible as the Gellert Grindelwald's situation. Unprecedented. Nevertheless, Petunia Dursley nee Evans was a Blood Bender. A mundane, with not a drop of usable reiryoku was an untrained Blood Bender and apparently a prodigy at that.

. Hell.

Nikita studied the thin, blond-haired woman as she unknowingly touched every single piece of furniture created to be in tune with a Blood Bender. Remarkable. The question now wasn't whether Potter's aunt would agree with the scheme concocted by Black and herself (admittedly hashed out amidst mild insults and backhanded compliments), but rather what to do about Petunia herself? An untrained Blood Bender could not be allowed as they were a danger to society and themselves but how was this flower named mundane supposed to be trained? Nikita could practically taste the sheer level of potential within her aura but that same aura confirmed Petunia's lack of magical abilities. Why? Damaged coils? Too thick almost syrupy reiryoku? What was wrong damnit! Without being able to manifest reiryoku physically how was a mundane suppose to survive bloodbending training?

She would have to implement new training methods to get around this problem. This was completely uncharted territory. Mundane members were normally trained in non-magical aspects but only magical training was available for teaching bloodbending. What to do?

New Blood

It could not be ignored that Magical Europe practiced an interesting form of xenophobia towards anything mundane, a strange belief that anything that did not involve the use of magic was inferior and hence a supreme waste of time. As a result, the physical form of the average European Magical was so abysmal by age 30 that most physical activities took them almost three times longer than their Mundane counterparts. And whilst it was only discussed in whispers and never among polite society, there was a rather glaring byproduct of European Magicals supposedly bluer blood perception upon their population.

It was expected for most incoming students to struggle with the physical aspect of Advance Offensive and Defensive Magics, especially the European based ones. Professor Combie was used to having to build most of his students' physical forms from the bottom up. It was rather fortunate that most of his European students were of Mundane background and hence had experienced physical education within their primary schools before attending a magical academy. Even so, after four years of only a minority engaging the use of a broom as exercise, and the majority classifying walking to class as their major exercise of the day, the children of European Magical heritage were almost always the least physically fit.

Furthermore, prospective students originating from the western countries, all shared a similar peculiar response to hostile situations which seemed more designed as villain comedy relief than to protect themselves from real attacks. How can one define true defense as the process of uttering an incantation of some sort and then standing still? The logics were completely lost on Professor Combie. No enemy in a real fight would be kind enough to remain stationary and allow you to hit them except in sparkly short skirt animes like Sailor Moon. It was quite baffling.

Harry Potter in particular kept repeating this mistake over and over. The AODM professor sighed as the Boy-Who-Lived was yet again knocked unconscious.

Harry Potter was in great danger of failing this course.

The course was divided into three parts: Theoretical, Magical and Physical. The Theoretical part dealt with strategy, review of historical battles, ethical dilemmas, determining the thought process of past great fighters, and philosophical war debates.

The Magical part included mental and muscle memorization of various magical responses based on situations. This is where a lot of students struggled as it introduced completely different ways of accessing, molding and executing reiryoku. Hermione Granger, to Professor Combie's lack of surprise, shone within the class when it came to following instructions and was the first to access and execute any new technique shown. She also performed remarkably well when it came to creating combination/chain attacks. However, this top performance did not extend into recovering and adjusting her attacks when those chains were broken or blocked. No, that top place belonged to Potter.

Harry Potter's creativity and fight instincts placed him in another class completely from his classmates. Rather than putting together specific chain attacks, Potter's fighting style relied almost solely on his instincts and hence he focused on increasing his repertoire of spells instead whilst letting his instincts decide what combinations were appropriate for the situation. This was normally advised against as in the heat of battle the possibility of going mentally blank and falling back on muscle memory were extremely high. The fact that Professor Combie was letting Potter do things his way was an indication of just how good Potter's magical fighting instincts were. It was a unique quality that many couldn't hope to pull off and made Potter highly unpredictable to any opponent. It was most unfortunate that Potter did not fare as well in the physical aspect of the course.

The Physical part of AODM required a student to demonstrate a level of physical fitness that Potter seemed unable to grasp. In this section the student is given a high amount of physical conditioning as well as taught martial arts. The intention was for the student to eventually study a large number of various styles. They can then pull from these styles to create combination chains and come up with personalized fighting styles that would compliment their magical battle techniques. This is where Potter's weakness became apparent. As ironic as it may sound to some, the quidditch darling of Britain's top magical school was struggling with just gaining muscle (probably because he hated exercising and only did it within the class). He got breathless much quicker than the rest of his classmates, suffered physical injuries far quicker as well and had developed the rather strange habit of standing still and announcing loudly to his opponent what attack he was going to hit them with even after constant lecturing. As a matter of fact, it became apparent that the more he was lectured for it, the more Potter continued to stupidly stand still and shout. It was getting beyond ridiculous. Professor Combie wasn't sure if the boy was just hard of hearing or this was some bizarre form of teenage rebellion.

Then there was the fact that Potter had developed the interesting though useless habit of practicing with Nara outside of class. Shikamaru Nara was a well trained Clan heir who was already on his last year of the Academy. He was also an unsurprisingly terrible tutor. This was due mostly to the boy's own lazy nature, his early schooling and his extensive Clan training. Unlike Potter, Nara's primary education took place at his village's training academy of which graduating exams took place at 12. The children were placed into teams of three with a personal tutor normally of a much higher rank and of some years of experience until they had passed the second level of their exams. They are then given minor leadership responsibilities over either those at a lower level than themselves or their peers until they passed their third and final test: the Jounin exam. This was the highest level one could achieve without becoming the leader of their society.

Shikamaru was a super genius 18 year old war veteran at Jounin level who was only at this school because he needed to round off his education as the heir of his Clan…

What Potter needed was someone who possessed the talent to teach and was capable of explaining things in a simple and clear manner so he could understand exactly what to do. Things came far too easy to the Nara boy for him to ever be a good instructor to anyone not on his intelligence level. Nor was he a good measuring stick for Potter at his current level. If he could he would have taken Potter on since the boy certainly possessed tremendous potential as clearly demonstrated in the reiryoku portion section of the course. Unfortunately, professors were not allowed to provide that kind of guidance to potential students. The entire summer course was an unknown part of the entrance exam. The ability to work things out themselves was a key ability in surviving New Blood's harsh and hectic curriculum.

...

The first day of the week of the entrance exams Harry awoke with an extreme feeling of nausea. Harry dragged himself from bed and proceeded to get physically and mentally ready for one of his hardest weeks academically.

Thankfully, the exams weren't as bad as Harry expected. He managed to actually finish every exam within the time allocated and believed he gave a good accounting of himself. However, all good things come to an end and on Friday came his final exam: AODM exam.. Harry headed towards the classroom barely aware of his surroundings. Failure of this particular course was not an option...what to do what to do…

The morning focused on the Theoretical part which Harry felt rather confident he passed. There were some tricky questions but he was sure his answers covered at least 80% of the required knowledge. With the afternoon came the section of the exam Potter truly feared. The afternoon exam was a combination test, that is, it combined the Magical and Physical sections. The first section of the exam reminded Harry of the Triwizard obstacle course. Only difference is at the end of this obstacle was a duel. The students would be dueling anyone from Professor Combie's class that was already attending the school. Selection was completely random. Professor Combie started off by explaining that every section of the course examined a certain level of knowledge. Students automatically receive 50% if they make it to the halfway point. There are ten yards after that with every five yards equaling 5%. The duel is worth 40% with every thirty seconds equaling 10%. The prospectives will be dueling one of ten chosen New Blood students.

He got through the obstacle course without too much difficulty though his muscles hurt and he was badly out of breath. Nevertheless, the AODM professor handed Harry a number and showed him a door that led to a wide outdoor arena. Upon arriving, Harry nodded slightly to his waiting opponent and smiled even as he gave an inward sigh of relief. It really was quite a bit of luck to have landed Shikamaru Nara as his opponent. No one had really seen the Nara's true fighting abilities but what little the boy had bothered to show him didn't reflect his lazy attitude. Now that they weren't training, Harry could actually show what he'd be learning since he got here.

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow at Potter-san's smile before yawning dismissively. In the corner of his eye he spotted Hermione Granger's truly ugly glare aimed at him through a doorway and nearly moaned out loud in utter agony. He seriously should deal with this situation soon. Oh he had tried to talk to the girl but she made sure to stay in dense crowds and to dutifully send existence-destroying glares his way every chance she got. Truthfully, the crowds or glares wouldn't have stopped him if he was determined but Shikamaru was a master at reading emotions. Under all her abundant rage and disdain was a stark, raw fear of him and what he could do to her. She had actually stopped visiting her usual haunts and had changed her appearance to huge downy skirts, an old outdated sweater so ugly that he could barely look at it, oversized cheap pearls, huge glasses, an over-sized carpet bag and incredibly bushy hair powered with some sort of grey chalk-like material and combed out into a frizzy curly cloud. She looked like a damn grandma! And where on earth did this chit buy boiled cabbage scented perfume? When he first spotted her attempt to 'un'attract him he wasn't sure if he should be amused by the whole ridiculousness of this situation or highly insulted by the gesture. Wasn't he supposed to be some sort of great catch or something for females? Especially Clan-less females? Shikamaru sighed softly. He had no wish to increase her fear of him any further and for the first time in his life was unsure how to fix a problem. Ah well, at least he had had the pleasure of watching his mother roast his father alive over this. The old man deserved it.

Leaning onto his left leg, the Nara placed his hands into his pockets and settled into a slouch. Such a warm, lovely day that one really couldn't even complain about the lack of clouds. The gentle, cool breeze more than made up for it. Really could the day get any better?

He barely dodged it.

The wide-eyed Nara stayed in his crouched position at least a good one hundred feet from the massive crack in the ground. His eyes narrowed and his senses sharpened as he stared at the supposedly weakest student in his beginner AODM class. This was interesting. This had never shown up in their 'spars' for lack of a less insulting word. Potter-san stared back with a blank face. A strange blue reiryoku covered the boy's torso in sheer chains almost like a vest armour. There had been no hand seals or wand waving or any indication of an attack before a flash of lightning had streaked across the heavens and down from non-existent clouds. Shikamaru blinked and stood up ignoring the shocked gasp whomever it was had been unable to hold back. Heh, apparently he was suppose to take this 'battle' seriously. Potter-san was going to regret issuing any kind of challenge.

Harry's greatest weakness was his physical capabilities. He was aware of this and his class was aware of this and he was very sure Shikamaru was aware of this also. What they were unaware of however were the measures Harry had put in place to counter this weakness. The Boy-Who-Lived had meticulously layered and weaved powerful shield spells together using the chain method he had been taught and his own instincts. Every day for the last two months he had gone through an hour of casting and weaving with an astounding level of concentration. What was created was live charged magic so concentrated that it had literally created a visible chain vest. The entire thing was grounded by the spell in the silver buckle on the belt around his pants. This vest he wore today...

Shikamaru's lazily generated water bullet infused with chakra in each particle tore through every last one of Harry's chained spells.

The Nara calmly cleaned his ear with his pinky nail as Harry proceeded to cough up a lung.

"I could have been fried" came the flat, dull voice over the loud hacking.

"You were ignoring me" came the choked response.

"Hmmm."

Harry dragged himself off the ground and wobbly stood up from his fit. He wiped his soaked hair out of his burning eyes. His nose, eyes, throat and chest burned and he felt light headed.

45 seconds had passed.

Shikamaru impassively watched his opponent's heavy breathing. Maybe he had over-estimated? The teen was only a beginner afterall. Then Potter-san breathed in and spat out a bright blue ball of raging fire, once again without performing any hand signs, wand movements or uttering incantations. The Nara frowned at this even as he moved to dodge and carefully filed the curious fact in the back of his mind to be examined later. He casually moved out of the way of the ball of fire...then had to hit the ground two seconds later as it recoiled and nearly slammed into his back.

Harry grinned as Shikamaru spent the next couple of seconds dodging his fire. He was rather proud of his yet un-named invention. It was something he had stumbled upon whilst figuring out his chained shield. Actually, he couldn't explain how he did it. It had always baffled Hermione how he did these seeming impossible things. Actually, the girl was more annoyed that a lot of the things he did went against the theories in her books than at the actions themselves. All Harry himself figured out was that it wasn't really fire but a ball of reiryoku on the outside and some sort of ice on the inside. The ice was a strange gold colour. Harry found that if he willed it hard enough he could attach a tracking charm to the ice whilst it was in reiryoku form. As soon as it hit the air the attack took shape with the middle hardening into ice. It would not stop attacking the person unless he willed it.

1 minute and 30 seconds.

Tired of playing, Shikamaru decided to end this little charade. Potter-san had passed his examination so Shikamaru could now go home. His good deed for the day was done. Performing hand seals faster than the human eye could follow, Shikamaru created a rain cloud directly over his unsuspecting victim's head. It was a mostly useless E-Rank jutsu but it casted a rather nice shadow and connected most of the other smaller shadows and Potter's own shadow to it. Closing his right hand into a fist, he mutter the phrase "Yin no Jutsu" and watched with satisfaction as the shadows completely covered Potter and became opaque, placing him in a world of cold and darkness. The cold would lure him to sleep almost immediately. It was his simplest, most painless technique.

Which is why Potter's blood curdling scream baffled him.

Harry didn't understand what just happened. One moment he was standing across from Shikamaru and watching him dodge his attack and the next he was blind and deathly cold. Then his confused mind went to another place and suddenly he wasn't at New Blood taking his exam. He was deep in a forest late at night with Sirius lying unconscious on the ground behind him and literally hundreds of Dementors were covering them and it was so cold and he couldn't see…

In sheer confused panic Harry turned his mental request for help inwards…

and It answered.

Concentrated reiryoku strongly coloured in gold ripped itself out of the pores of it's master's body and dutifully took on the form of a deer. Prongs. The newly created Prongs ripped apart the shadows covering Harry in one fell swoop before turning on the one who had created them. Halfway to deliver judgement the magical construct suddenly fell apart and Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head before he passed out.

In the silence that followed Shikamaru just stood still and stared wide-eyed at the boy lying face down on the ground. Then he stared at the spot where the giant gold deer had disappeared leaving deep hoof prints where it ran. O….K...what the actual fuck?

When Harry awoke two days later he didn't really remember the last part of his AODM exam though Hermione informed him in detail. He sighed. Must he do something weird in almost every defense exam? Ah well, at least he had passed. He had already been handed his school schedule including the optional courses he had chosen. A small joyous smile crossed his face. He may not be able to control his fated clash with Voldemort but at least he could control what type of schooling he got. He was so glad proper school started in three days.

The silence was almost oppressive in the small study that held Nikita, Sirius and Remus. Shikamaru Nara had taken upon himself to liberate the school of it's video footage of Potter's exam and dutifully gave it to his father. If she had not been on a mission at the time Nikita would have been given this footage immediately instead of two weeks after. The sheer implications...if Shikaku's suspicions were true...

It was Sirius that whispered the question after the recording ended. It sounded almost like he had shouted in the quiet room.

"What just happened?"

He looked over to a shocked Remus and a very pale Nikita. Dread turned his stomach. He turned to her and demanded softly.

"I asked what THE FUCK just happened?"

Nikita looked at him, not sure what to say. She knew what happened but she could hardly believe it. This was not possible! She swallowed slowly.

"I...know how Harry defeated your dark lord that night."

"What!" came the stunned simultaneous responses of Sirius and Remus as they whirled to face her.

As Nikita opened her mouth to start her explanation a strangely coloured bumblebee flew through her window and positioned itself right in front of her nose. This was, of course, a cause for concern. What really sent chills down her spine however, was the light mocking voice that emitted from the insect.

"Ms Mears. A word if you please."

Britain

Despite the worldwide search for Harry Potter by the Order of the Phoenix, on the 1st of September the Boy-Who-Lived did not board the train for his fifth year. He did not meet any of his 'friends' and walk into the grandhall in a tight knit group laughing at one of Ronald Weasley's rather tasteless jokes. He did not engage in his yearly run in with Malfoy and his crew. He did not return to Hogwarts.

Pandemonium ensued.

Minerva McGonagall leaned back in an intricately detailed yet highly uncomfortable Victorian style chair. As she lost herself within her thoughts she tapped an opened muggle envelope which had been the casing of a rather sleek modern-looking letter politely requesting two of her former students transcripts. It was a letter she had become very familiar with over her years as Deputy Headmistress. It's presence never failed to produce the same level of sadness each time and evoke the same traitorous thoughts:

Was Hogwarts lacking?

Every year at least one of the Muggleborns or muggle raised left Hogwarts to attend some strange school with a name written in some weird language that nobody had ever heard about. What happened to them afterwards she never knew even though she had tried to contact a few of the students she had been fond of. Their families wouldn't say anything about the school either, but had always been kind enough to assure Minerva that her former students were happy, healthy and enjoying their studies. This more than anything had ensured the old bird not to demand more information for as an educator and lover of children what more could you ask for? Even so, she had still tried a few times to contact them and it always hurt just a little when her letters came back unopened. She had even asked Albus countless times about this school but the Headmaster never seemed too interested in finding out information since really it was only one or two Muggleborns that tended to leave. Minerva continued to tap the letter on her desk and pondered if this time the Headmaster may truly be interested in this unknown school.

Elsewhere in Britain

The Dark Lord who had styled himself Lord Voldemort found the reports from his spy rather curious. So, Albus Dumbledore had lost his little boy soldier. Tisk Tisk Tisk. A grotesque smile crossed the snake-like face.

Tisk Tisk Tisk.

"Lucius" he whispered looking at his most loyal Death Eater.

"Find me Potter."

Dumbledore

Albus Dumbledore followed behind the prison guard through the shadowed corridor and wondered if he would truly get any real answers from a man who had more than earned the nickname 'Silver Tongue'. This was probably just a waste of time to be honest but Dumbledore had exhausted all other available avenues and resources. Between the two of them this man had always been the one with the more obscure knowledge.

The scene upon arriving at their destination would forever be carved into Albus Dumbledore's memory when he thought of this man. Looking decidedly less than prison-looking, the Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald calmly sat reading a newspaper and in obvious general good health. The floor of the room had been covered in lush carpeting. His cleanly shaven face played host to a pair of lovely silver spectacles which had been perched daintily upon the nose. Sitting crossed legged in a beautiful leather black chair the 'prisoner' was clothed in this soft shimmering looking...something which had been coaxed somehow into forming a robe-like shape. Grindelwald looked more like a gentleman of some distinguished background that was perhaps a visitor himself rather than one of the prisoners. He certainly was a rather far cry from the pictures of Sirius that had been plastered all over Diagon Alley and Dumbledore found himself suddenly pushing down intense anger. Were the prison bars just for show? To witness the obvious extent to which this man's influence stretched... if the wizard's very soul wasn't tied to this building Dumbledore was under no illusion that he would still be here. Grindelwald looked up from his newspaper and to Dumbledore's supreme surprise smiled. The guard had disappeared.

"Ah Good day Albus Good day! Yes yes haven't seen each other in a long time have we? Are you here to find information on the whereabouts of your missing golden boy?"

Dumbledore immediately tensed. What? What? No one had been informed about Harry's disappearance outside The Order. NO ONE! Gellert looked amused at the furious look on Dumbledore's face.

"Oh come now Albus it is quite interesting pondering how a baby survived a killing curse. It's rather curious. I'm a very curious person."

At this Albus Dumbledore's renowned patience finally snapped and he whipped his wand out pointing it at his once best friend.

Gellert's eyes narrowed and studied him.

"I am not your enemy Albus, not this time."

Getting up he turns away, walking to look out the artificial window. Silence fills the overly warm cell until Albus becomes uncomfortable. Suddenly Gellert speaks.

"The school that has dared to snatch your little massiah goes by the name of New Blood International Academy. They are an elitist school. Don't bother to ask me where it is that information is only available to certain individuals neither of whom you are acquainted with. The school caters strictly towards what they call new bloods and mundane-raised simply because they have the educational foundation necessary to succeed. The Clans rarely take members that do not attend this school. Only the best of the best get in and only the greatest of those best will make it to graduation. The rest will either fail out or leave unable to cope with the level of stress. The school has a flaw though."

"A flaw?" Albus repeated intrigued.

"Yes. Think of it! They teach everything. The school is open around the clock, 365 days a year! Albus this school is the stuff of legends, the ultimate school! I don't have much information but what I do know makes the three supposed great European Magical schools seem more like a joke! Almost every child that can get through their time at NBIA will emerge at the top of their field and will be accepted into the great CLANS, the creme de la creme of magical society! So tell me Albus...why does New Blood International Academy only accept those raised within the muggle world? Why do only those children receive acceptance letters? Come Albus certainly you can see the problem here? Why must other schools cater for both muggle born and raised alongside their magically raised students whilst this school gets away with isolation..."

...and discrimination."

Turning around, Gellert gave his old friend a serious look. Albus sat up with the sudden realisation. Egards! But Gellert was right! Gellert sat back down in his chair and folded his hands.

"There you are Albus. There's your weakness in that solid vest of armour. Who's to say that if given the same information, the same opportunities , the same instruction that a magically raised child would not produce the same outstanding results as a mundane raised one? Magically born and raised are not less intelligent so why are they excluded? It's one thing to have a set of knowledge requirements that students must meet in order to attend but to completely deny a sector of society entrance into your institution because of their blood status and where they live? Why should magically born and raised children be excluded from the Clans due to something they have no control over? Such...bigotry. They don't have the same level of knowledge as their fellow incoming mundane raised students? Teach them. Give them the opportunity to learn it. After all, that's what a school is suppose to do. That's what our schools do right? They don't discriminate. A school isn't suppose to teach a sector of society that their way of life is superior to another's. A school is suppose to teach students how to integrate their different views and lifestyles in order to live together."

Albus slowly closed his eyes then smiled and got up from the chair he sat in.

"You've given me a lot to think about, Gellert."

"Consider it an apology from an old friend."

The two nodded at each other. Just before Albus took his leave Gellert called out to him.

"Just out of curiosity Albus, why the supreme interest in the Potter boy? Surely you're not expecting this untrained child to save you all from the big bad Fleer of Death?"

Albus turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Certainly you do not expect me to divulge that information, Gellert? I am not slow of wit nor lacking in commonsense."

Gellert threw his head back and let out great loud belly gruffs.

"Fair enough! I can't help but wonder though you must admit it is a rather peculiar move. He is quite young to be expected of such heroisms. Perhaps we may have been capable of such feats at that age but we were such rarities. The boy is hardly out of nappies Albus."

"Ahh that is true. I'm not sure I would have been capable of such a thing at that age though. Why I do believe that the boy has more in common with you Gellert than myself and you just admitted to being quite capable of the feat old friend. I have faith in the lad. He will do what is right."

With these final words, the great Albus Dumbledore vacated the prison cell in a swirl of tasteless, overly bright robes, his determination to drag Harry Potter back to Hogwarts newly restored. The Dark Lord watched him go before allowing his face to take on a thoughtful look. He waved his hand and a spark of light appeared before taking on the shape of a chilled glass of sweet red wine. He casually took a sip.

"You've grown old Albus. I remember a time when you were better at chess than this."

He leaned back in his chair in contemplation. The boy was like him Albus had said. He smiled. What...interesting information. One must wonder if Albus would eventually realise what he had inadvertently given away. Gellert tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair before snapping them. A small ball of light appeared before morphing into a tiny bumblebee. This was his own invention. An experimentation of his slowly returning soul bending abilities where he allowed drops of blood within the balls of reiryoku and manipulated the blood cell structure into the telepathic ones found within the brain. With this he had been able to send various people messages and steadily re-establish quite a bit of his information network. Whoever said a Soul Bender had no bloodbending abilities had never found a way to lock away the Soul Bender's power. Gellert's bloodbending potential may be lower than most but it was certainly present. He spoke directly to the bumblebee shaped light.

"Ms Mears. A word if you please."

According to Albus little Harry Potter was like him. Well well well….

It

It observed the new harsh lines in it's prison.

It corked It's head to the side.

It touched the new lines.

Cracks? Cracks. It stroked the cracks.

Something had happened to Its prison. Something significant.

"Hiiiiiiiiii" It said to the cracks in a high-pitched sing-song childish voice.

"I s.e.e you"

It smiled.