May a plethora of unusually glorious blessings grace the lives of my reviewers:

Hambares- I write for dancing! Especially when it coincides with paid vacation! I did have to stop dancing with you to write this and doubt it was worth it- but here, I did my best.
neosildrake- Glad it sounds good so far. I hope you enjoy this too.
hwyla- Welcome back to the story! So happy you like my take on all thing medieval and Harry being a potter. I can't believe I'm the first to do this. Everytime I think I'm being original, I find out I haven't read enough fan-fic to know that I'm not. I do swear the only person I steal from on purpose is JK (and then only in fun.) So far she has been gracious enough not to mind.
Kateri- I am so happy to have pleased you. I hope I never disappoint you.

Thank you to each and every one of you, my lovelies! I was so moved that I give you more!

The Potter's Tale

Chapter Eight

The Magic of Education

Harry woke up very early excited about starting his training. He bathed and dressed. He was about to put the ring Hermione had given him into his pocket when it occured to him to try something that he didn't expect to work.

"Um, Dobby?"

"May Dobby do something for Harry Potter, sir?"

"Well, yes- maybe. I was wondering if you had some string?"

A ball of string about three feet in diameter materialized on the floor between them.

"Does Harry Potter need more string than this, sir?"

"Oh. I only needed a piece, really, about this long." Harry held up his hands.

The ball disappeared. A length of string cut to Harry's specifications appeared, floating in the air. Harry reached out and took it.

"Um, Dobby? Do have any string that's less scratchy?"

The length of string grew silky soft and pliant in his hand.

"Thank you, Dobby!"

Dobby bowed deeply. "Dobby is happy he could help Harry Potter, sir! May Dobby do something else to help?"

"No thank you."

"Call Dobby if Harry Potter, sir, is changing his mind!"

Dobby snapped and disappeared.

Harry knotted the ends securely, threaded the string through the circle, and drew the knot through the middle of the string. Harry gave the necklace a few good tugs. When Harry was satisfied his knot would hold, he put it on and tucked it down his collar.

When Snape went to wake Harry for breakfast he discovered that Harry was not in his room. Snape found him in the library reading from a book called Adventures in Arithmantic Theory. Since Harry remembered that Hermione enjoyed Arithmancy, that book seemed like a good choice. He had hoped it would give him a bit of an edge on his first day of training.

"How are you coming with that?"

"I can't understand a word. Good morning."

"Good morning, Harry. Perhaps you should read this instead. It is your schedule for today. On second thought, you can read it over breakfast. Come."

Harry put the book back in its place, took the parchment handed to him, and followed Snape to the table.

Breakfast was high protein, which Snape considered exceedingly fine fuel to encourage brain activity.

"Master Snape," said Harry looking over the list he was given, "I don't know what half these words mean either."

"You will before you fall asleep tonight. Eat your kippers and lentils."

Snape wasn't messing about. Every single hour except luncheon at one until dinner at eight was filled with some sort of lesson. The first on the list was Potions. Harry felt good about that. At least he had a fair idea what the word meant, or thought he did.

After breakfast, he followed Snape down to the basement that Harry was not even aware existed. He looked around at the jars of things that lined the walls and made a face when he recognized the contents of one as eyeballs, the sheer number of which signified a massacre of some type of poor creature.

"Newt," Snape supplied.

"Oh."

"Do you think that learning Potions will help you to defeat Albus of Dumbledore?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think you'd bother teaching me Potions otherwise."

"Correct. Can you guess why learning how to make potions will help you to defeat Albus of Dumbledore?"

"Er- no."

"I'll ask you again tomorrow. Today, you will start learning how to prepare Potions ingredients. This is a shrivel fig. I want you to peel it with this knife."

At the end of two hours, Harry could peel, cut, chop, slice, dice, milk, bruise, crush, grind, and pulverize, not to mention simmer, boil, scald, infuse, distill and rehydrate, all to Snape's exacting standards. After the first ten minutes of those two hours, Harry knew he hated Potions with a passion. However, he would never admit such a fact to Master Snape. No. Much better to pretend that he was having the time of his life, so Harry attempted to plaster a smile on his face.

"You hate this. Don't you?" said Snape when Harry's two hours of Hell were finally over.

"Yes."

"Most wizards do. It will get easier."

Harry very much doubted that, but managed a genuine smile however slight.

"You did very well for your first introduction to Potions, Harry."

"Thank you, but I don't feel like I did. Master Snape, I'm not going to know the answer to your question tomorrow."

"I will ask it the next day, then. Time for Wandless Magic, Harry."

By the end of the day, Potions was Harry's very favourite subject. He actually nodded off at dinner, waking up when he had trouble breathing only to find that his face had fallen into his haggis and mashed turnips. Snape performed a cleaning spell, gave him a nutrient potion, and sent him off to bed.

Once there, Harry could not sleep. He tossed and turned, his mind hopping from one subject to the next. He relived all his various failures that day, interrupted by occasional visions of Albus- smiling, offering them sweets, killing them both. Finally he dragged himself out of bed. He pulled a robe on over his nightshirt and padded down the hall, knocking softly at Snape's door.

Snape opened it. He was still fully dressed.

"I am surprised you are awake. Come in."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to bother you."

"It is no bother. I was only reading. Would you like to sit?" Harry looked over at the lone chair by the hearth.

"No thank you. Could I have a sleeping draught?"

"You look in danger of passing out again, Harry. Is there something on your mind?"

"I'm afraid I won't be able to learn any of this," said Harry, unable to meet Snape's dark gaze.

"Of course you will learn."

"But I can't do magic! How am I supposed to learn Charms and Transfigurations if I can't do an Accio or a Lumos?"

"Harry, it was your first day. You didn't know what half those words meant this morning. Did you center clay on a wheel the first time that you tried?"

"No! It took me scads of tries! Even when I did find center, I could never get the clay to look the way it was supposed to look for ages." And Snape didn't even beat him for his mistakes. "Thank you."

"You are welcome. Would you still like that sleeping draught?"

"No thank you. As is, I'll be lucky if I make it back to bed. Goodnight Master Snape."

"Sleep well, Harry."

Harry's head had just hit the pillow, or so it seemed, when Snape shook him awake. "Wash and dress quickly. It is nearly time for breakfast, Harry."

"Good morning," Harry croaked sleepily, though he didn't think it would be.

This time Snape had decided on smoked salmon on toast with pear wedges on the side, hoping to give Harry a bit more energy along with considerable brain fuel.

"Your schedule for today."

Harry took it and read down the list, Potions, History of Magic, History of Charms, History of Transfig-

"History?"

"With emphasis on the evolution of theory. I thought it might help."

Harry shrugged. "All right."

Apart from Potions where Harry tried Snape's patience while learning even more ways to prepare ingredients, Snape lectured to him non-stop for eleven hours straight, except for lunch, which they ate in total silence. Harry wondered how he was supposed to remember any of it. He interrupted Snape at one point to ask him just that. Snape looked entirely annoyed but suggested that Harry take notes.

Harry tried. He really did. He soon realized that Snape always talked a whole lot faster than Harry could ever hope to write. So he tried writing just enough to capture an idea, or the odd fact. For some reason, Harry's mind seemed to fight against him at every turn during this process. He found himself drifting away on the sound of Snape's voice, and realized to his horror, that his quill had stopped. Harry knew that although he had been staring straight at the man, he had no idea what Snape had spoken about for a good half hour at least.

Harry desperately tried to concentrate and refocus. He found the thread of Snape's current meaning only to start thinking about that alone which caused him to drift off on assorted unconnected tangents of his own. At the end of the day, Harry had a pile of notes he couldn't read at all. He wasn't even certain that half of what he had written was something that Snape actually said, or whether he had day-dreamed most of it. He felt awful about Snape's monumental effort and how it had been wasted on him.

That night when he couldn't sleep, he hesitated to knock on Snape's door. He didn't deserve a sleeping draught. He deserved Albus to murder him. He didn't want Albus killing Snape, though. Harry dragged himself out of bed, down the hall, and knocked on Snape's door.

"Come in Harry," Snape called to him from inside.

Harry opened the door slowly and closed it softly behind him. He couldn't look at Snape.

"Could I have a sleeping draught, Master Snape?" Harry asked the floor.

"No Harry."

"All right. Good night, then," Harry said miserably and turned to leave.

"Come. Sit by the fire."

Harry did look up then. Snape was sitting very straight, with a book closed in his lap. Harry knew from being in this room last night that the second chair by the hearth was a new addition. He slid into the deep leather chair that was almost as comfortable as his bed and felt just a bit better.

"I'm sorry."

"About?"

"Today. I tried to pay attention. I can't read my notes. I can't remember a thing you said."

"Of course you can. Tell me about the ceremonial murders or suicides of the ancient Wizarding Kings."

Harry took a deep breath. "Well, there was a term limit- usually twelve years of reign."

"Why twelve years?"

"That probably limited whatever damage the king might do to his kingdom if he were a particularly bad king. It also kept the kingdom from being ruled by the very old and infirm. Plus, a twelve year cycle mimics the cycle of the planet Jupiter. Wisdom and all that."

What sort of magic is that?"

"Sympathetic Magic?"

"Correct. Tell me about succession."

"If the king chose his successor, like if he wanted his son to rule after him, he would commit suicide with a ceremonial dagger after the feast that celebrated his reign. He'd cut off parts of himself, his nose first, then his ears, and so on, in front of everyone at the feast, until he passed out and bled to death. The more he dismembered, the better he was remembered. His chosen successor would catch as much of the blood as he could in the ceremonial goblet and drink it. If he had chosen no successor, anyone with a mind to rule would try to be the one to murder him, anytime after the feast, and then drink his blood straight from the death wound."

"What sort of magics were involved in succession?"

"Blood magic."

"And?"

Harry wracked his brain.

"Binding Magic?"

"Correct. The blood binds the new king to his people as well as to the blood of all kings before him. You see, you retained much and from it correctly inferred a fact that I did not tell you."

"Did I?"

"Did you think that I expected you to absorb every single word I said today?"

"Yes."

"That may have been ideal. However, I think you will find that I am a realist. When was the last time you learned something new, Harry?"

"Well, until recently, I learned most of what I know when I was little."

"So part of your challenge is to learn how to learn again."

"I guess so."

"We can review what I lecture about in conversation for the last hour of your lessons, if you think that might help."

"Would you do that?"

"Harry, I am trying to teach you. What ever you think might accomplish that goal, I am more than willing to try."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Is it as pointless as the last question you asked me?"

Harry just smiled for a while, then offered, "Maybe."

"Yes Harry, you may ask me a question."

"How is my learning history going to help us defeat Albus?"

"What is history, Harry?"

"Hermione said it was repeating patterns."

"It is also a progression- ideally, at any rate. What was true in the earliest days of the History of Magic?"

Harry really hoped Snape hadn't lectured on that topic today. He groped around for some sort of answer. "Um, well, no one would have known much about magic or its history."

"Correct."

"Really?"

"Knowledge builds upon knowledge, Harry. All we would have to do is start at the very beginning and bring you all the way through History of Magic to the present day. You would know everything known about magic."

"I don't think we have time for that."

"No one does. Still, a historic overview is useful. At least you will have some idea how much you do not know about magic."

"I think I'm getting a pretty good idea of that."

"Do you still wish to take a sleeping draught?"

"No thank you, Master Snape. Good night."

"Good night."

A/N- Harry's description of the succession of ancient Wizard Kings is based on actual old magical traditions of Southern India as detailed in Frazer's The Golden Bough. If you fancy to read the classic accounts of Samorins who reigned twelve years and died murdered or dismembering themselves as the main entertainment at feasts, check it out. Keep in mind that Severus knows the real story while Frazer got hold of some watered-down, incomprehensible, semi-factual version that has nothing to do with magic. You know how easily these Muggle researchers can be led astray! Still if you want to know more about the History of Magic (from a Muggle perspective) Frazer is your man.

There you have them, my dear readers- two updates in under a week! I feel so much less like a lazy Daisy, and so much more like a prosey Rosey! All comments, criticisms, and corrections dreamed about, longed for, and eternally appreciated. Thanks just for reading though!