Godric's gift
A/N: It took a bit of a longer wait as family obligations took president over our story. I am getting rather sick of the setup chapters, but I don't just want to dump exposition on all of you. I think the setup will pay off. But I'm going to try and pick up the pace. Expect weekly updates once the semester begins; alongside my full-time job, I teach part-time at a college, which will take a bit of my time. I'm having quite a lot of fun writing and will see this story out.
Runes and Routines.
Harry's mind raced as he walked back to the common room. His hand slid over the length of the shrunken sword. What had he gotten himself into? The Hat wouldn't let Dumbledore ask Harry about the message; Dumbledore, who seemed to know everything about magic, did not know what magic was afoot but trusted it. And the message itself? "Find the Griffyndor?" "Power we'll unleash?" What power is the hat talking about? Who is talking? Harry's mind continued racing until he found himself sitting in his armchair in the Gryffindor common room, glancing about to see if there were any other secret messages strewn about for him to deal with.
"Harry, I thought you were with Dumbledore," Ron asked, breaking Harry from his musing.
"Wasn't a long meeting," Harry replied.
"What did he say? Did you figure out what that hat was on about?" Ron asked interestedly
"I can honestly say I don't really know. The hat had more to say, but it was just as foggy as the original song. Dumbledore definitely believed it was important. Apparently, the sword is a key to unlock something. I'm supposed to find the "Gryffindor". I've been trying to work the message out." Harry finished
"Hermione may be able to figure something out," Ron replied.
They were interrupted by a tapping on the window. A tawny brown owl with a letter attached was sitting at the window. Harry quickly untied it, though he hadn't seen that handwriting in a while. He quickly opened the letter, which was addressed to "Young Prongs."
Y. Prongs,
I'm heading north right now. Don't worry about me; I know how to stay hidden and have assistance from our white-bearded companion. If you keep having "headaches," be sure to talk with him about it. Something is afoot in England, Mad-Eye Moody has been brought out of retirement, Death Eaters are afoot at the world cup, and I will be near you to face what's ahead.
Stay on your guard and be cautious. I will contact you again when I am settled.
Snuffles
Harry's heart sank as he read the message. With all that had happened, he almost forgot he had written to Sirius about his scar. He had been distracted by the events of the World Cup and studying with Hermione. Now Sirius would put himself back at the mercy of the Dementors? Harry could not risk that.
"What's up, Harry?" Ron asked.
"Sirius, he's coming to Britain. I mentioned my scar hurting to him, and now he's gonna get himself caught," Harry said, anger rising in his voice.
He quickly got a quill and scribbled.
Snuffles,
No need to come north! figured I imagined the "headache" stay safe and warm where you are!
Y. Prongs
Harry quickly attached the letter to the owl and asked for it to return to the sender. Harry was gripped with panic thinking about how close Harry had come to losing Sirius on the same day he found him. He could not risk that; he'd rather never get to spend time with Sirius than know that his childish fear ended up getting Sirius imprisoned again or worse.
Ron did not know what to say, so he kept his peace. Harry, lost in his thoughts, headed to bed.
oOOOo
Typically, the first week of lessons each year contained little more than an introduction to the course and was safely ignored; Mad-Eye Moody, while not bothering with a discussion of the course aims, was simply making an impression on his students. So, Harry found his attention drifting back to the message he received through the Sorting Hat. Much to Harry and Ron's surprise, Hermione did not know the answer to the riddle anyways. But she insisted they search the Gryffindor common room for potential clues. The Sword and the Hat both belonged to Godric, so it would make sense that "The Gryffindor" would be somewhere in the Gryffindor common room. He was also anxious to get this class over with so that he could speak to Professor Flitwick before their double charms period. He hoped the diminutive Professor would be willing to help him become a more formidable duelist. While the Sorting Hat's message had distracted him, he had not forgotten about the Prophecy or the events at the World Cup. He would not be unprepared the next time he faced a dangerous situation.
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE Potter, you of all people should know this?' Roared Moody hurling a piece of chalk his way. Instinctively Harry batted the chalk aside with his hand; his attention snapped back to the classroom and Moody.
"At least your reactions are better than your focus, but try to bat a curse away with your hand, and your likely to start looking like me," Moody chuckled to the class. "Now that I have everybody's attention, we will spend most of our time studying curses and hexes and their appropriate countercurses. We will also practice dodging, shielding, and counterattacking throughout the year. Come to class ready for learning and pain–it's the best teacher. Next class, we will study the Unforgivable curses; read the chapter on them before coming to class next week."
Harry packed up his things and raced to Charms leaving a puzzled look on the faces of Ron and Hermione. He was pleasantly surprised at what he heard from Moody; it's possible that they would have two competent defense teachers in a row. He would also get to practice curses and shielding in class.
He made it into the Charms classroom before the second-year class managed to leave. Side-stepping the younger students, Harry made his way up to the Professor's Desk.
"Ahh, Mr. Potter, to what do I owe the pleasure? I hope your holidays were restful!" Professor Flitwick said with a bright smile.
"It's great to see you as well, Professor, I definitely enjoyed my holidays, but I'm not sure I can say they were restful. That is actually why I am here early, sir." Harry began.
Professor Flitwick nodded, bidding Harry to continue.
"You see, sir, I got myself into a spot of trouble at the World Cup. When the Death Eaters started attacking the camp, my group tried to flee to the woods. Hermione and I got separated and came across a French witch named Fleur Delacour, who had been cornered by four men who, I believe were trying to kidnap her and her sister.
"How Horrible!" Flitwick interjected
"Yes sir, the thing is, she was dueling all four of them at once and holding her own. Only when they started hurling hexes at Fleur's sister did they break her concentration enough to disarm her. I had lost my wand earlier that day; I know it's stupid, but it happened, so I did the only thing I could think of, and I charged in and knocked one of the men over while Hermione stunned one of them from behind. That was all Fleur needed, and she took the rest of them out."
"The Sorting Hat did choose well for you, Mr. Potter; that was quite the brave thing to do," Flitwick said with a smile.
Frustration gripped Harry for a moment. He did not want praise at this moment; he wanted to be better prepared for the next time something like this happened.
"Thanks, sir, but I really think it was on the stupid end of brave; see, the thing is, I keep getting into situations like this summer, and my luck may run out at one point. I need to be better at magic; I need to be more like Fleur; she was holding off four at once, sir. I want to be that good." Harry got out.
"You seem to be quite taken with her, Mr. Potter," Professor Flitwick said jovially.
"She is quite out of my league in more ways than one, Harry laughed. "And that's really why I came to you, Professor; I want to learn to duel and duel well. I have heard that you are a dueling champion. I want to ask for your help. Will you train me to duel, Professor?" Harry finished.
Harry was surprised himself; he was not planning on asking the charms master for training, it sort of just came out as he was talking.
Professor Flitwick's expression went from jovial to intrigued. He scrutinized Harry, looking through him in a way he had only experienced with Dumbledore. Harry's fellow classmates began filtering into the room as he was doing this.
"Mr. Potter, while you have shown a remarkable aptitude for performing spells, your overall work has been merely above average. I see a fire in your eyes, but you are not my only student. I will give you a few books on the basics of dueling. Show me you are serious by mastering what you find in this book and show me O-level work in my class, and I will give your offer serious consideration." Flitwick finished.
"Thank you, sir," Harry replied as he took his seat. He quickly explained his actions to Ron and Hermione and got ready for the class, excited about the possibility of learning from his professor. Flitwick was right about him–he had not taken his studies seriously enough. He loved the practice of magic and saw the benefits of casting spells. But he had not truly seen the importance of theory until the past summer studying Runes and Arithmancy. Magic was more than memorizing incantations and using them in dangerous situations. The branches of magic were connected, and the deeper one's knowledge was about how a spell worked, the better one could cast it and the more uses one could find for a spell. All of that knowledge depended on a profound understanding of the basics.
Harry would rise to Flitwicks challenge. If he were successful, he would be trained by one of the greatest duelers of the age. If he had failed, he would have mastered the basics of dueling and improved his performance in Charms. He took out his quill and began to take notes.
oOOOo
Flitwick dismissed the class early, giving Harry the book on the basics of dueling. Harry was excited to get into this book, but he had a letter to write before he began. He enjoyed the correspondence with Fleur and was excited to tell her about the potential opportunity with Professor Flitwick. Harry sat down and began to write:
Fleur,
We did hear about the Tournament! I imagine your letter means you will be competing. From what I saw, I wouldn't want to compete against you. In truth, I don't think I would compete, even if I were 17. I've tempted fate far too often and need to get much better at magic before willingly seeking out a tournament with a death toll as high as the Triwizard Tournament.
My first week of lessons has gone quite well. I was accepted into the 4th year class of both Runes and Arithmancy, and my Charms professor gave me a book on the basics of dueling. I'll be practicing, and when you get to Hogwarts, perhaps you can help me learn more. Only if you want to, though, you owe me nothing for this summer, and if you did, you paid it back by saving me from the guy who punched my eye.
I look forward to your arrival, be sure to dress warm; it has been an oddly cold September.
Your Friend
Harry
A quick trip to the owlery saw Harry's letter sent to France. He meant what he said to Flitwick; Fleur was older, more powerful, and far prettier than he was; he knew dating her was out of the question, but he did believe they could be friends, and that was quite nice.
oOOOo
The next few weeks, Harry settled into a consistent routine. He woke up early and took a walk throughout the castle, searching for any clues to finding "the Gryffindor." He often took a different route each day searching; he even looked for missing weapons in suits of armor, thinking perhaps placing the sword in an empty holster would do something. After this walk, he would enter the great hall and eat an early breakfast, followed by a trip to the library, where he would work on schoolwork. After classes, he would find an empty classroom to practice what he learned from Flitwick's dueling book. There were many footwork, stance, and wand movement drills, and he wanted to master every drill. He would then return to the common room to try and relax a little bit with his classmates. Without Quidditch, Harry had much more time to devote to studying and dueling practice during the week. He was missing the flying and the physical activity.
The evening before the arrival of Durmstrang and Beuxbatons, Harry entered the common room to find Fred George and Lee talking to each other in the center of the room, with Ron looking in on the trio. Hermione was wavering between her homework and casting disapproving looks at the trio of troublemakers. Amused, Harry walked up on the trip and asked.
"Planning a surprise for our guests tomorrow?"
Horror crossed the twins' faces as Fred replied.
"Harry, I am quite ashamed to admit that thought did not cross our mind. We have been quite preoccupied with finding ways to enter the Triwizard Tournament."
"I suppose so long as you are up to no good," Harry told them with a wink. Ron, will you be joining them in their little scheme?"
Ron blushed a bit, looked around, and said. "I mean, I might consider it, you know, a thousand galleons and all worth a shot."
Harry winced inwardly. He hated how much Ron's finances affected him.
"Well, I wish you all the luck in the world, let me know if I can be of assistance," Harry said, chuckling.
"Harry, you can't be serious; you could get into terrible trouble. Besides, they could get killed." Hermione sneered.
"I'm not the judge, Hermione; I guess if they get picked by the judge, they probably will be capable of doing the tasks. It's not like I really have anything to offer them; with my potions marks, they won't be asking me to brew their aging potion." Harry replied.
"Marks aren't everything, Harrykins," George started earning a scoff from Hermione. "Contrary to our potion master's opinion, we are quite proficient at potions, and Lee basically a professional public speaker. Between his smooth talking and our magic skills, we are confident we can find a way into this tournament. Perhaps we can even get our dear Ronald a chance to be chosen." George said.
"Fair enough. You'll definitely be my favorite Hogwarts Champion." Harry responded
With that, he headed to bed.
The following morning there was a buzz about the castle. The castle had been cleaned more thoroughly than Harry had ever seen it, and Filch was haunting the corridors like a poltergeist, ready to unleash hell on anyone who might dirty the hallways or use them for that matter.
After breakfast, Harry and Hermione made their way to the Runes classroom.
"Harry, you've been brilliant in Runes this year; well, really, you've been brilliant in all your classes," Hermione said almost defensively.
"I am a product of my tutor," Harry replied, smiling at her. He was enjoying his improved performance in all of his classes, but he knew his friend was not used to having competition as the best student in the class. Harry, who had never really tried his best, was not used to being noticed for good marks but did not want to make his friend feel bad.
"Not sure if you'll need me much longer," Hermione said with a smile that did not reach her eyes.
In truth, Harry did not need her now. It really shouldn't concern her, though.
"Hermione, you've been on my for ages for slacking; I've finally shaped up; I figured you'd be proud," Harry replied, getting a touch frustrated.
"Of course, Harry, it's great, it's just" Hermione paused and was interrupted by the entrance of Professor Babbling entering into class. Babbling was a serious woman who was fascinated with ancient cultures and languages. Her stern visage was regularly broken when discussing her subject. Horned glasses sat upon her round face. Her energy for the subject made it quite a bit more enjoyable to study, although she often found herself going on tangents that were not quite relevant to the topic at hand.
"We'll start class by collecting your essays on warding and enchanting runes." She said as she waved her wand, and twenty essays flew from the student's tables onto her desk. As next year is your OWL year, I am expecting a higher standard from you all."
She then began to lecture about the more subtle uses of warding runes, Harry taking eager notes. He wondered if Dumbledore had used any of these runes in constructing the wards on privet drive. Harry never understood why he had to return each summer when he was certain the Burrow would have him. Perhaps he could learn more about them this year.
oOOOo
Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way up to the common room after their Potions class ended blissfully early. While excited about the arrival of the other two schools, Harry found himself quite nervous at the prospect of meeting Fleur Delacour again. The memory of the night of the world cup had played over and over again in his mind. Her sapphire eyes blazing, and her wand slashing through the air. It would be incredibly strange to see her again. Or to talk to her in normal circumstances. A hint of him was worried that she would grow tired of him quite quickly. Absentmindedly, Harry tried to tame his hair a bit more than usual and changed into a pair of clean robes.
He went down to the common room where Ron and Hermione were waiting for him.
"Took you long enough," Ron ribbed as they started making their way down to the castle's ground floor.
"Had to change; smelled like a rancid potion," Harry responded quickly.
"Whose gonna be smelling you" Ron guffawed.
Harry paused, not wanting to tell Ron that he didn't wish for Fleur's second, first impression of him to involve the acrid smells of the potions class. Hermione seemed to understand and rescue him.
"Consideration of others requires no special person Ron; perhaps Harry was trying to be polite to all of us," Hermione said.
"Er, yeah, thanks, Hermione."
The trio found themselves waiting in the courtyard of the castle alongside the entirety of the student body for the arrival of the other schools.
It was a frigid October night, and Harry wondered if Fleur had heeded his advice to dress warmly. He was broken from his thoughts as a ship broke the calm of the night and rose above the Great Lake.
"Ahh, it appears our friends from Durmstrang have arrived," Professor Dumbledore boomed brightly.
Thirty people descended the great ship's ramp, all wrapped in black fur overcoats furs. Led by an imposing man dressed whose heavy cloak was a brilliant white instead of black. At his right was
"Albus," A thick Balkan accent bellowed. "How are you."
"Quite well Igor; I take it travel went well," Dumbledore asked kindly
"Splendidly, however, Victor here has a cold; I was hoping to get him inside," Igor said, gesturing to the student on his right.
"Bloody hell Harry, its Krum," Ron said excitedly.
Sure enough, it was; Harry recognized the hulking figure of the Bulgarian seeker. He was even holding a cloth up to his nose. Unlike at the World Cup, it was not covered in blood from the bludger he took to the face.
"Head on into the entrance hall. I believe Madam Maxime and Beauxbatons are arriving now, so we will join you shortly."
At this declaration, Harry got a strange feeling in his stomach.
"Look!" A Gryffindor first-year shouted, pointing at the sky.
A flying carriage pulled by four brilliant winged horses the size of elephants gracefully landed and pulled the carriage up towards the entrance of the castle.
Out from the carriage stepped the largest woman Harry had ever seen. Behind her were thirty-odd students dressed in light blue uniforms made of silk. They all seemed quite cold, all of them unprepared for the colder weather, all of them save one.
oOOOo
A/N: Next chapter, our pairing meets. We shall see what becomes of it. As stated in the intro, this will be a slow burn. There may even be some ups and downs. Hit me up with a review, and let me know how the setup is going.