In the last chapter: Harry manages to fool Dumbledore and reveals to the man he's a parselmouth to gain his trust. He has a moment of mutual understanding with Anthony in the hospital wing. Harry's summer begins, and so does his summer lessons with his companion; from curses to dueling to the language of the dead. Harry realizes his godfather and Remus have grown much closer than simple 'friends' and has a little 'chat' with them both.
The curse soared through the air in a stream of violet light, aimed right at Harry's chest. Harry quickly shielded himself and sent back a curse of his own that, if used on a person, would distract them by making them feel as though their skin was being separated from muscle, bones, and tissue by thousands of insects burrowing painfully beneath their skin. Although there wasn't any physical damaged done by the curse, the psychological damage was enough to distract an opponent long enough for Harry to get the upper hand. A milder curse Harry had learned recently.
Fortunately, he wasn't using the spell on an actual person.
Harry followed the curse with a fatal cutting hex with the forceful slash of his wand, cleaving a deep valley into the wooden neck of his opponent. As expected, the figure slumped lifelessly back into its default training-dummy position, waiting for the exercise to start again.
Harry had found three life-sized training dummies in one of his 'excavations' of Grimmauld Place's storage cellar. They were at least half a century old with only the most basic and rudimentary dueling charms and spells making them work and were marred and burnt in certain places from past practices. Harry suspected they had been used for very basic dueling training for children and adolescents.
They weren't in the best of shape, but with a little creativity and craftiness on Harry's part, the dummies could be used to simulate an actual fight; equipped with a deadly arsenal of curses, hexes, shields, and charms, the dummy could move and dodge and fight just like a real person—if a real person had a poll and wheels instead of actual legs, that is. Harry could set it to different levels of difficulty and could use more than one at a time.
Ever since his encounter with the Basilisk in the chamber, Harry knew that he could know more spells than any Auror and still be beaten by an average Hogwarts student if he didn't first gain experience using those spells. Harry might be immortal, but death was a last resort. Being away from his body and unaware of what's happening in the world of the living leaves him far too vulnerable. Harry could wake up surrounded by dead people that he was meant to protect or without his wand or cloak or any number of things. Either way, the goal was to not have to rely on his 'special ability' to get him through everything.
That being said, he would admit to dying once or twice during the first few test runs with his dummy.
It was about three weeks in to his summer and Harry had already sent a few letters back and forth between his friends. Hermione was in France with her parents for the summer, so her letters were a lot less frequent, but significantly longer than the others. The Malfoys were spending time with cousins in Russia—which Draco endlessly complained about in all of his letters. Anthony was staying in Britain that summer like Harry so he vowed to drop in at Grimmauld Place sometime soon.
Harry had been half-surprised when, only a week into summer, he found a letter from Ginny among the rest of the post. Harry had thought it might take the girl longer to write, considering everything that had happened, but looking back on how happily she had joined his group of friends, it really should've been expected.
Her letters were always short, concise, like she had written it multiple times before sending out the most to-the-point letter she could draft. Harry didn't mind though, he found it rather endearing and so very like her personality—at least, from what he could tell in the short week he'd spent around her before school let out.
According to Ginny, her father, Arthur, had won a random draw for some prize money at his work and was taking the whole family to Egypt to visit her eldest brother, William Weasley—or Bill for short. She talked a lot about her brothers actually, more so than about herself. Bill was a freelance curse-breaker who often did jobs for Gringotts when they repossessed cursed objects or houses for whatever reasons (Bill was apparently her favorite). Charley was the second oldest, but treated like a precious baby by the matriarch or the family, especially since his job was with dragons and so very dangerous.
Percy was the next oldest and Ginny's least favorite because of how critical he was of everyone in the family, always acting like he was better than them and that he was the only intellectual among a bunch of 'bumbling apes.' Harry vaguely recalled the Gryffindor prefect and his cold, disdainful gaze. It wasn't hard to understand why he was the least favorite.
Then there were the twins, which Harry had come to know quite well. Ginny resented their constant pranking, but knew that they still cared for her and thought of her as family—unlike Percy. Lastly, there was Ron. To Ginny, Ron was the half-way point between the twins and Percy; constantly making jokes at her expense, while also treating her like an embarrassment. What Harry saw that she might not have, was that that was the behavior of most boys with little sisters. It was in countless stories and movies he'd seen during the time he spent with his muggle relatives.
The difficulty with being young, is that empathy is usually gained with experience. It's either taught to you by someone who understands it, or it's learned when you ask yourself why someone might act a certain way towards you. Harry learned it rather quickly because he experienced a lot of behaviors towards him that wouldn't make sense unless he looked at it differently. The thing is, sometimes even after you learn it, it might be better to not use it.
In Harry's situation back at Privet Drive, empathy helped him understand, but it also made it only that much more difficult to bear whenever it happened. 'It' being the constant harassment from his cousin and the endless spewing of religious nonsense from his aunt and uncle. Memories trickled in of the formidable thick leather bound book with delicate pages and being forced to read hours of scripture about angelic devils and listen to his uncles preaching about his deceptions and how 'they Good Christians' were doing their duty by trying to purge the evil from Harry.
Harry shook his head to draw it back from the untraceable tangents it had splintered off to so that he could start up another training exercise. Harry worked on his dodging and shielding for a while, but his concentration was broken when the wards shifted to accommodate someone. Quickly ending the session with the dummy, Harry made his way out of the training room and down the stairs to the main hall.
There, at the open door, stood Sirius, who must have heard Harry coming down because he turned when Harry reached the bottom. Past his guardian, bathed in the overcast morning light was Anthony and his father. Harry grinned invitingly and greeted the pair as he made his way over. David Goldstein was a very tall man, easily surpassing six feet in height and rather broad-shouldered, but none could look at Mr. Goldstein and think him intimidating. Despite his stature, the man's eyes were perpetually soft and kind, a smile his greeting.
Mr. Goldstein owned a medical supplies business, with dealings spreading from common household ointments, to surgical tools, to a clinic that he owned in London that aided both magical patients and otherwise. It meant that Mr. Goldstein—although rather well-off—was a very busy man. Harry knew that he wished to spend more time with his family, according to Anthony, but it was all too rare for one to be wealthy, charitable, and family oriented, something always has to give. However, Anthony had gotten to an age where he understood his father's reasons and could forgive his misgivings.
"Ah! It is wonderful to see you, Harry. I hope you are doing well?" Mr. Goldstein ended in a question, with a polite smile for him. Harry nodded slowly.
"As you, Mr. Goldstein. I am doing wonderfully, thank you very much." Harry replied and pointedly ignored the smirk that appeared on Anthony's lips when he addressed his father. Anthony always found Harry's manners to be amusing, constantly going on about how Harry 'belonged in a Victorian novel about polite society.' Which Harry always replied with reminding Anthony that those in 'polite society' didn't have to deal with characters such as Michael Corner and his endless juvenile names and pranks.
And 'polite society' didn't seek petty revenge by hexing Michael with dreams of utter humiliation and embarrassment almost every night. But Anthony didn't have to know about the dreams, or about Harry's secret smiles whenever Michael cringed at the sight Professor Snape, because one can only dream about the severe man leaping around a classroom in pink tights and a tutu so many times before the image is permanently etched into their brain.
Mr. Goldstein huffed with a smile and gave Sirius a meaningful look.
"Children these days, more manners in their little finger than most men have in their entire beings. Make all of us look infantile! I don't know where it comes from." Goldstein looked down at his son, who had been sprouting rather quickly in height and came up almost to his shoulder, and playfully disrupted the natural golden curls atop Anthony's head with his hand. Anthony batted his father's hand away while Sirius let out his honest barking laughter.
"Nothing truer could ever be said!" Sirius proclaimed with a grin. Harry shared a pained look with Anthony and they both endured silently while the men quelled their laughter.
"Now, I should really be off, back to work, but I hope you don't mind Anthony imposing for a while? He has been rather insistent on visiting and told me it was alright to drop by. If it's alright with you, I'll be back later to pick him up, hopefully before dinner so as not to inconvenience you or anger his mother." Goldstein clapped an affectionate hand on Anthony's shoulder.
"Nonsense! We have plenty of food to go around, just the three of us here. Anthony is welcome to stay for dinner and if it becomes late, he can always spend the night. We have plenty of rooms and the boys haven't seen each other in nearly a month, I'm sure they'll be inseparable." Sirius gave the two in question a knowing look. "Besides, having Anthony here might actually be enough to drag Harry's nose out of a book!"
Harry's polite smile vanished and he sent a rueful glare at his godfather, while Anthony immediately snorted.
"Yeah right." Anthony muttered, and Harry's glare shifted.
"Alright, I suppose I can floo your mother once I get to the office and tell her you'll be eating here." Mr. Goldstein turned back to Sirius. "Once it gets to be that time, depending on how much work I have at that point, I'll give you a floo call and tell you whether I'm going to be stuck there or I can pick him up." Sirius nodded in agreement.
Mr. Goldstein warned his son to stay out of trouble and to be a gracious guest—two things that they all knew Anthony wouldn't struggle with—and said goodbye to his son and the rest of them before quickly making his way off into the city, and, presumably, back to work. Sirius let Anthony inside and quickly made his way back to wherever he'd come from to answer the door.
Harry smiled at his friend and motioned for him to walk with him. They were partway up the first flight of stairs when Harry spoke.
"Had I known you were coming, perhaps I could have prepared something for us to do, but no matter, I'm just glad to see you again." Harry bumped his shoulder into Anthony and the other boy split a bright smile.
"Yeah, sorry about that. My dad's been busy a lot lately and I haven't had the opportunity to pop in, otherwise I would have much sooner." Anthony rubbed the back of his neck as he explained, eyes locked on the floor boards once they reached the second floor. Harry waved away the explanation with an unperturbed air.
"Well, now that you're here, have anything in mind that you would like to do? I suppose we could go to my room, but it's rather dull. We could go to the library, but I know you would get on my case if I were to waste this visit reading. I could possibly ask Sirius to take us somewhere—" Anthony raised a hand to halt Harry mid-sentence.
"No, it's alright. You must have been doing something before I arrived, I'm not in the mood for really going out so you just go back to your business and I'll keep you company." Anthony's words had Harry hesitating. Surely he couldn't continue training with Anthony around . . . could he? Harry thought about all the things he was keeping from his close friend, all of things he couldn't share with anyone.
But this, this was the temptation of friendship, the indulgent, selfish opportunity to cross a barrier and pull his friend back over with him. The thing was, Anthony already had his heels pressed back against that line, he just didn't know it.
Giving in to impulse, Harry's expression became serious and he held Anthony's gaze for a long moment. His friend picked up on the sudden change in mood and waited expectantly for Harry to speak.
"Are you sure?" Harry didn't elaborate, but Anthony didn't seem to be looking for an explanation. The other nodded without a word. Silently, Harry moved passed Anthony and continued up the stairs, the whispering old wooden stairs exhaling with each step as they ascended. The third floor held mainly non-bedroom rooms such as the library, storage rooms, a sitting room, an office, a bathroom, and the training room. Harry led Anthony all the way to the end of the hall where the non-descript black door waited.
Harry didn't pause at the door, instead pushing straight through into the window-less room comprised of only bare wooden floors, grey stone walls, and a connecting closet. The room had an expansion charm to allow freedom in movement while practicing, although quite long for dueling, the room wasn't equally wide. The room was lit by a single plain chandelier that left quite a few shadows lingering in the corners.
"What is this room supposed to be?" Anthony asked curiously, looking around the bare room, as if he thought he were missing something. Harry knew he hadn't, since the dueling dummy had rolled itself back into the closet when he left the room.
So, in place of answering, Harry disappeared into the walk-in closet and a moment later, rolled out the dummy. Harry's lips quirked up at the corners when the confusion on Anthony's face deepened.
"It's for practicing spells and dueling, I've taken it up since starting break." Harry answered his friend's unanswered question. The other boy's confusion settled into intrigue.
"What kinds of spells? Somehow, I don't take you for one to do anything 'standard' when it comes to magic." Anthony said with a teasing raised brow that just pulled harder at the corners of the brunet's mouth.
"The kind I shouldn't know about yet." He replied vaguely, knowing it would just prod the beast that was Anthony's curiosity.
"And your godfather is just alright with this?"
Harry shrugged casually and crossed his arms loosely over his chest, exuding indifference. "They both think I'm practicing because I don't want to be embarrassed by Draco, that I'm not as good at dueling as he is." Anthony gave Harry an unconvinced look.
"They actually believe that?"
"What? That a twelve-year-old would be petty and prideful? Of course they'd believe it! Besides, Sirius—and I suppose you could count Remus as well—is still very new to parenting, it's difficult for them to trust that I won't end up killing myself by accident! If they found out I wanted to learn more advanced and possibly dangerous magic, they'd wrap me in pillows and lock me away in a room, forever. Until they can trust that I know what I'm doing, they can't know." Harry reasoned.
"Fair enough. So, let's see it, then!" Anthony prompted, gesturing towards the lifeless dummy, an anxious excitement bleeding into his eyes.
Anthony ignored the 'huff' from Harry and watched as the raven-haired boy pulled out his holly wand and began some form of unfamiliar magic on the dummy. He didn't incant a single syllable as luminescent clouds bloomed in front of the dummy's chest. Once seemingly satisfied, Harry turned and moved more than halfway across the room—an appropriate dueling distance. Anthony made sure to move back to the wall, at the mid-way point between the two 'duelers.'
Anthony's gaze was focused solely on Harry, watching as the light-carefree expression slipped away like an ivory silk scarf. Harry assumed the proper stance and for a tense moment, Anthony's breath refused to leave his body.
The first spell was released by Harry, a bright flash of red light jetting across the space. Anthony watched in wonderment as the previously lifeless and unimpressive training dummy exploded into life and effortlessly shielded against the spell. This was obviously no ordinary dummy, but such was expected when it came to Harry Potter.
The dim room became illuminated by the spells rapidly exchanged between the two. Anthony was enthralled, entranced, by the intense match—each spell being blocked or dodged only at the very last second. He could recognize a few of the spells based on appearance once cast or hand movement alone, but most were completely unfamiliar.
And Harry. . . Harry transformed into something Anthony had never seen from his friend before. The concentration, the focus, the ease in which spells and shields sprouted from his wand like an afterthought, the swelling magic that was spreading out into the room, reverberating in the hollows of his bones and filling his skull with heady clouds. Like the outer chrysalis had split open and Anthony was experiencing Harry, in his undiluted, unrestrained and magnificent form.
Profound thought might not be necessary, but in that moment, feeling all too much and unable to focus on combing through and fully forming thoughts in the middle of a duel, profound thought seemed to be the only medium Anthony could use to translate the mess of his thoughts. As Anthony was thinking about this, the duel suddenly came to an end when a brilliant blue light shot across the room that hit the dummy unguarded. However, instead of witnessing the effects of the spell, all Anthony saw was the light hitting a barrier within an inch of the dummy's wooden chest—like a form of armor—and produce a bright purple light. Then the dummy slumped back into a lifeless position and Harry straightened out of his dueling pose.
Anthony waited silently as Harry straightened his casual robes and walked back over to where he stood.
"So, what do you think?" Harry asked, a pleasant light behind his eyes and upturn of his lips that was neither false nor forced.
Anthony thought about it seriously for a moment, then answered honestly.
"I think it's brilliant, and I think I now know what I will be doing this summer." Anthony said with a wide grin as he pushed off from the wall and looked down at his slightly flushed friend. Harry's head tilted ever-so-slightly in confusion. "Now, what do you say to a dueling partner?"
The surprised look on Harry's face was brilliant and almost as enjoyable as the prospect of learning far more advanced magic from his beloved friend.
Despite some of Harry's reservations about it, he decided to agree to 'train' with Anthony over the summer. Perhaps it was to lessen the dull guilt Harry felt after his encounter with Anthony at the end of the school year. Harry knew he couldn't bring anyone completely into the fold yet, so bringing Anthony in on something else fairly big, helped eased any strain in their friendship because of the secrets.
Also, Harry reasoned with himself that teaching Anthony a bit of defensive magic would help to keep his friend safe.
Harry knew his motivation for it wasn't unselfish. But when there was so little Harry truly cared about, he would act perhaps more aggressively and protectively of those few things he did care about.
So, Harry made sure to have Anthony over at least once or twice a week so that they could practice. Death thought that it was a waste of Harry's time, but he really didn't care. Anthony already excelled at magic and was a very fast learner, so teaching him was rather easy, but Harry had to be careful with what he taught Anthony. There were certain spells, certain magic, that Harry would have never found in a book: curses that eviscerated, severed, caused torturous pain and far worse. Spells spoken in the language of snakes that his friend would never be able to pronounce.
Harry avoided any magic that Anthony could connect to coming from an outside source and made sure to separate his private lessons and his time with Anthony. Harry enjoyed the time spent around his friend, it made him feel less isolated over the to-be long summer ahead. Harry just had to be careful, was all.
