Chapter 2. Myself, a slave driver
The next day, a Sunday, Harry had to not only explain where he spent the entire previous day to Hermione but to also think of an excuse to go to the Chamber again. Needless to say, Henry was very amused by his hardships, and he was privy to all of them, after all, Heroic Spirits were immaterial and could follow their masters (however loosely this term could be applied in Harry's case) in spirit form, unnoticed by anyone.
After a lot of verbal maneuvering and apologizing he managed to save himself from Hermione's wrath and more importantly her curiosity, and made his way to the Chamber of Secrets. Henry appeared in the middle of the large hall, telling Harry to take out his wand.
"I know you have a particularly thick head," the spirit rolled his eyes, "but if you hope to ever master magic, you'll need to grasp the theory and its finer aspects. Therefore, I will pound them into your head. I suggest you get ready."
That was all the greetings and for that matter warning Harry received before a barrage of spells assaulted him.
"You're dodging my spells, that's not too bad," Henry idly noted. "Remember to think outside of the box when confronted with unknown problems. But closer to the topic of magical theory… I'm sending jinxes, curses and hexes at you right now. Care to tell me what I'm not sending your way?"
"Charms," Harry panted as he dodged multitude of vibrant flashes of light that sailed past him. "And…" he narrowly escaped a particularly nasty-looking spell. "And transfiguration spells."
"Indeed, let's correct that mistake, shall we?" Henry smirked coldly.
Harry cursed as now not only was he dodging potentially harmful spells, but also some random pieces of stone that suddenly decided to transform into pikes and attack him, as well as various natural elements, like fire and water.
"Now I think it's getting quite hard to dodge," Henry observed as he sat down on a conjured chair. That was when Harry noticed that his elder doppelgänger wasn't using a wand. All those spells the spirit was sending at him simply appeared all around him seemingly from thin air. Just how the hell did Henry get to this level?! "You should really start using your wand or I'll have to start questioning your mental capacity."
"I can use my wand?!" Harry exclaimed in surprise as he dodged another spell ande vaded a rampant pike.
"Were you forbidden from it?" Henry raised an eyebrow. Harry was really starting to dislike the gesture.
"Bloody hell," Harry took out his wand and started blasting pikes apart with a basic bombarda. Still, he was forced to continue dodging spells.
"Now why don't you tell me about the basic schools of transfiguration?" Henry asked, not stopping his barrage.
"Are you really expecting me to answer that while jumping and sprinting?!" Harry shouted in frustration, sidestepping another vicious-looking purple beam.
"Be grateful I am not having you do that while swimming," Henry chuckled. "Of course, we'll have to teach you swimming for that… In any case," he conjured a glass of what looked like wine and took a sip, "you should be able to recite knowledge in the heat of battle, otherwise how can you trust yourself to be able to utilize it? Add to that your exceptionally thick skull that only allows knowledge in when it's essential to keeping said skull on its shoulders and I can think of no better lesson plan," the spirit chuckled. "Besides, you were foolish enough to summon me, now face the music."
"I never thought I'd become a psychotic slave-driver," Harry panted. "Alright, it's transmutation, conjugation and animate-based transfiguration. Can we at least slow down with all those curses?"
"Do you think your enemies will let you take a break?" Henry smiled at Harry is if he were a small baby. "Now, tell me, why does Gamp's Law even exist?"
"The hell should I know?!" Harry snapped as he blasted another pike apart.
"Tut-tut," Henry shook his head, and another curse shot right into Harry's ankle from behind his back, making him stumble and scream in pain as the bones were broken.
"You piece of- !" Harry screamed, cradling his ankle and rolling on the ground to avoid incoming spells, because Henry was apparently not going to relent despite the injury. "Would you bloody stop!"
"Curse me all you want," Henry was suddenly standing right in front of Harry, looking down at his beaten form. "But as long as you are an inadequate little brat, you'll follow my training regimen. Now get up!" the spirit waved his hand and the ankle mended itself with a painful snap. This time Harry bit into his check to keep himself from screaming. "Get up," Henry ordered coldly.
Harry had no choice but to obey. He did however, start questioning his decision to summon a Heroic Spirit.
"For your information," Henry once again materialized in his conjured chair. "Gamp's Law exists because every transfiguration is held together by your magic, which is in turn directed by the idea you put into a transfigured or conjured object. If the idea is faulty, then the transfiguration will either not work at all or fail sooner rather than later. Care to tell me what this has to do with food?"
"Maybe it's because we're meant to consume food?" Harry speculated. Henry just raised an eyebrow. Merlin, now he was starting to hate the gesture. "I mean, we conjure food for it to exist, but then we consume it and erase it from existence to be transformed into something else. So it's fundamentally temporary and can never serve as sustenance because it will eventually disappear."
"Why then does water work?" Henry asked, eyebrow still raised. Harry was wondering if there was a spell to stop someone from maintaining this stupid gesture. Surely he wasn't the first person in all of history who was extremely annoyed by it.
"We just drink, don't we?" Harry replied before he could think it through. "It doesn't change, it remains the same water even if we consume it."
"Not too bad," Henry nodded, bringing a small smile to Harry's face. It didn't last though, as barrage of spells continued a moment later. "Now let's examine the main aspects of transfiguration in general, such as visualization for example…"
Harry groaned. It was going to be a long and painful training session, and year…
-xxx-
It was four hours later that Harry was allowed a brief respite — to have dinner. Henry didn't care to give him any time to shower and clean off all the sweat and grime on his body and clothes accumulated throughout the training session and just used a ridiculously overpowered cleaning charm which left all of Harry's skin irritated. Not that Harry cared all that much, but judging by the smug feeling that simply oozed from the Heroic Spirit, Henry could have done everything without such side-effects, but simply decided not to as another lesson. Honestly, Harry couldn't care less even if he tried, he was ravenous and devoured two helpings of dinner in minutes before sprinting back to the Chamber.
"Let's continue now," Henry said as he sat back into the same conjured chair. "Sit," he gestured at a certain spot on the stone floor, where a small rug conveniently appeared. "We'll start enhancing that mind of yours. I assume you know nothing about mind arts?" there it was again, the hated raised eyebrow which made Harry scowl.
"No," came Harry's gruff reply.
"Splendid," Henry didn't hesitate to send sarcasm his way. "It is essential though, so you'll have to learn it. There is only one problem though…" the spirit trailed off.
"Which is?" Harry prompted, finally seating on the carpet.
"You're an impatient brat," Henry replied bluntly. Harry's scowl deepened. "It's almost like you are the perfect antithesis to the mind arts, which require extreme patience and dedication."
"Hey!" Harry exclaimed. "I can be dedicated — and patient!"
"Really?" the raised eyebrow went just a tad higher, giving Henry's face an incredulous look, rather than that of superiority and mild annoyance it had before. "When did it show? Was it when you calmly set down at Hagrid's hut during that whole dragon incident and carefully considered your options?" The spirit mock-inquired. "Oh wait! No, it wasn't. You just chose the first answer to present itself. Maybe you were really patient when you blew up your aunt Marge?" the doppelgänger continued his ruthless assault.
"She insulted my parents!" Harry argued. "That… That hag," he spit out the last word, "she dared…"
"As do all of slytherins on daily basis," Henry drawled. "Do the words 'mudblood' and 'blood traitor' ring a bell?" the spirit leaned back in his chair. Harry's jaw clenched as he was forced to swallow his rage. The Marge incident still elicited extreme hatred from him even if the Heroic Spirit had a point.
"Fine," he bit out. His voice was cold enough to freeze the Black Lake several times over.
"Then again," Henry continued his assault, unconcerned by Harry's reaction, "I guess running after Sirius Black, who as far as you knew at the time was a mass murderer, was a rather well-considered decision. Hm…" the spirit shook his head. "Nope. Just another foolish stunt of an impulsive brat."
"Shut up!" Harry leapt from his feet. "How- How dare you!" he pointed his wand at the spirit. "You know nothing! Nothing!"
"You've just proven my point," Henry sighed. Harry's wand was suddenly yanked from his grasp and he himself was thrown to the side and landed on his back. "I only had to use a couple of phrases to utterly decimate your focus and turn you into an angry little boy who is painfully predictable and easy to defeat."
Harry clenched his teeth and stood up, walking to his wand on stiff legs and picking it up. His glare was directed at the Elder doppelgänger all the while. "As if you've never done it," he bit out.
"I did all of this," Henry replied, his voice calm as he sipped his wine. Was it even real wine? Harry decided there were other issues at hand. "And a great deal more," green eyes looked into identical ones. "If you want to spare yourself a lot of suffering, you'll learn to deal with your anger and your emotions. You'll learn how to maintain focus on a given task and how to resist your enemies' jabs. You'll learn to control your temper and I will help you. Whether you want it or not," the spirit spoke dispassionately. "I know what approach to take… You clearly don't care much about cookies, so I'll just use the stick."
Harry looked at the spirit in an incoherent mix of confusion and anger.
"Sit down," Henry ordered. Harry held back a biting reply and obeyed. Even in this horrible mood he could still see the point. Henry disarmed him with only one spell, where before Harry would have easily dodged it. "Good," the spirit nodded. "Now I want you to meditate. Clear your mind. I'll prod you, and should you react… Well," Henry smirked, "You won't like the result. Let's start. Close your eyes."
With a string of grumbles Harry complied. Now he could only hear Henry's voice.
"Think of something pleasant, a nice abstract feeling," Henry instructed. "I think flying will work best for you," he added not hiding his amusement.
It actually did. Harry had to acknowledge that he did like flying — it was relaxing and liberating. The feeling of weightlessness and the air against his skin was some of the best in the world.
"Good, now try to concentrate on this feeling and do not to let me distract you," Henry added with a laugh and poked Harry hard in the side with some sort of stick.
"Auch!" Harry cried and opened his eyes. "You didn't say it would be painful!"
"Here we go again," Henry rolled his eyes and threw a stinging hex at Harry's behind, which prompted the teen to yelp. "I told you to not let me break your concentration, and yet all I needed to do was to poke you — once."
"It was sudden!" argued Harry.
"And I guess those trying to read your mind will be kind enough to give you a warning in advance," Henry snarked. "Shall we continue or do you need another stinging hex?"
"Let's get on with it," Harry sighed. When had his older self become so insufferable… It was almost like talking to a nicer version of Snape. Could there ever be a nicer version of Snape? A question for the philosophers.
"Then do get on with it," Henry rolled his eyes. "You're the one with lessons tomorrow and homework to be done. If you intend to attend lessons that is..."
Crap. Harry heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, remembering that feeling of flying again. Homework was out of his control right now so no point in worrying over it.
"Yes," Henry said. "Good," there was a jab at his other side, but this time Harry held on to the feeling of flight. There was another sharp poke in his cheek, and he hissed in annoyance and almost slipped, but managed to regain his balance at the last second. "Not too shabby," the spirit commented. "Let's continue."
-xxx-
Harry came back to the Gryffindor tower late that evening, sore all over, thoroughly insulted, but oddly satisfied at managing to withstand seven pokes from Henry before his focus snapped.
The common room was just like usual. Full of people and chatter; despite everything it was still rather warm and even appeared welcoming, at least until one looked at its residents. All of them noticed him entering. While some glared, most just ignored him. Except Hermione. She accosted him as soon as she saw him and dragged Harry to one of the corners. There were two unoccupied chairs which they sat it. The fireplace was not too far, so it was really warm, a welcome difference from cool and wet Chamber of Secrets.
"Where have you been, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly. It was impossible to miss her posture though: the girl was not letting the matter go before she received a satisfactory answer. Harry really had to appreciate Hermione's discretion. Ron would have just yelled for everyone to hear.
"I was just training," he replied. It was honest after all. Harry wondered though whether he should just tell Hermione the truth. She was his friend after all, he wasn't used to keeping big secrets from her and Ron.
"Training?" Hermione blinked. "Could you be any more vague, Harry? I'm not sure you managed to conceal everything you wanted," she said, appearing quite cross with him.
"Look, I'm sorry, Hermione," he sighed. "I'm just… I don't know if I can tell you," Harry finished, looking to his right where Henry materialized in his spirit form.
"I don't particularly care," the spirit waved his hand dismissively, "she's your friend, not mine."
"I thought…" Harry started.
"That I were you?" Henry gave him a wry smile, even as Hermione watched on in confusion. It sure must have looked weird, Harry having a one-sided conversation with thin air. "I already told you," Henry shook his head, "I didn't summon a Heroic Spirit. By the way," the spirit looked at Harry, "I suggest you get on with your little conversation before Hermione starts suspecting some mental disorder at play."
Harry sighed again. "Alright, I'll tell you everything, Hermione," he looked at his friend, who was staring at him oddly. "And no, I'm not mad or anything. I wasn't talking to myself, he just can't show himself here."
"Can't show himself?" Hermione repeated quietly, as if tasting the words. "Have you brought some outsider here?" the girl gave him a sharp look.
"Yes," was Harry's first reply, "well, no, not exactly. It's complicated. But there's nothing to be afraid of. I promise I'll explain everything tomorrow," he pleaded.
Hermione remained silent a long time, scrutinising him, before she finally leaned back in her chair. "Alright," the girl said, "I trust you, Harry, but you'd better really explain everything tomorrow."
"Thanks, Hermione," Harry smiled, his shoulders sagging in relief.
"Now, have you done your homework?" Hermione asked. Harry rubbed the back of his head and smiled guiltily. How does one go about telling their study-obsessed friend that they will not be attending lessons for quite some time?
-xxx-
The next morning started at 4.30 am with a dash of icy-cold water. Harry awoke with a muffled scream and sat up in his bed. He was expecting to find it, as well as his nightclothes, drenched but those were entirely dry. Instead, Henry was standing by his bedside, smirking.
"Good morning," he greeted way too cheerfully as Harry yawned. "Get up, morning exercises. And I suggest you hurry, I'll have to use stinging hexes if you don't."
"I'm up," Harry grumbled, rubbing his eyes, which really wanted to close. He stood up and gathered his toiletries. After a cold shower, otherwise he knew he would fall asleep even on his feet, Harry got dressed in a pair of trainers and a t-shirt, just as Henry instructed. When he got back, the aforementioned spirit was seating on his bed, looking thoroughly bored. Although there was something in that look that Harry couldn't quite grasp. Upon noticing him, Henry stood up and looked at his watch.
"You spent fifteen minutes," he stated. "Way too much. You must be faster and more organized if you want to achieve the maximum of your potential. Well, let's go to the lake."
"But it's cold," Harry tried to argue, although even to him the attempt sounded meek.
"I'll cast a warming charm on you," Henry replied, surprising Harry with sudden generosity. He half-expected to be ordered to swim in the lake after that retort or something. "Although later you'll be doing morning exercises without them," the spirit smirked, making Harry groan quietly.
Autumn was one of the more unpleasant times of year Harry and he really detested it. The whole season looked like a work of a lunatic who got a hold of a painter's set, and then decided to just splash grey everywhere because they didn't like the monstrosity of their own creation. Mist and biting chill of early November made Harry shiver, until the promised warming charm settled on his skin. Still, as he reached the shore of the Black Lake the magic was dispelled.
"Why?" he almost whined.
"Trust me, you won't need it until you're over," Henry shook his head. For once Harry could not detect a mocking undertone, so all he could do was just nod. "Now, I want two laps around the lake."
"Just two?" Harry asked, surprised.
"You think you can do more?" Henry raised an eyebrow, making Harry's eye twitch, and looked at the large expanse of water meaningfully.
"Yeah…" Harry scratched the back of his head. "I think two are alright."
"Concentrate on the feeling of flying, let's improve your focus while we're at it," Henry added. "Now go."
"Alright," Harry nodded and sprinted away.
Several minutes into running Harry discovered that maintaining his focus was actually easier. Was it because of the repetitive nature of the process, or because it occupied his mind thoroughly enough to push all other concerns away? Regardless, Harry did as his older doppelgänger instructed. Even if he thought the guy was insane at time, Harry had to acknowledge, however grudgingly, that Henry knew what he was talking about. He swiftly cleared his mind again and concentrated on running. It was hard enough after half the distance around the lake was completed that all other concerns became too much of a luxury to indulge in.
It was a good half an hour later that Harry stopped near Henry, panting heavily. His shirt was drenched in sweat, but he was far from cold. The spirit waved a hand and cleaned Harry up, getting rid of all the excess moisture which was starting to cool down rather unpleasantly.
"Good, now physical exercises," Henry nodded. "Let's see…"
Harry internally groaned. His legs were sore and his sides were aching from all the running.
"Don't give me that look," Henry said coldly. "You'll thank me later. So," the spirit snapped, "pushups, twenty, now."
"I feel like I've joined the bloody army," Harry muttered, causing the Heroic Spirit to laugh.
It was two hours later that Harry, thoroughly sore, now aware of most muscles in his body, entered the Great Hall. He was clean thankfully, and fully clothed in his student uniform, courtesy of Henry, who did all of that with a couple of spells. There was almost no one inside, only a couple of ravenclaws and slytherins, who were too engrossed in their books to care about him. That suited Harry just fine. He sat down in his usual place and started piling food on his platter.
Hermione came down about half an hour matter and sat down near him. Harry greeted her. He was oddly energetic after the morning training, unlike most of the students who started filing into the hall.
"Meet me in Myrtle's toilet after the lessons are over," he whispered to the girl. She turned to look at him and nodded. Hermione was still displeased after yesterday, when he revealed that he had no intention of attending lessons at least until the first task is over. She did grudgingly admit that he really did need training, but ultimately withheld her judgement until the introduction to Harry's instructor. "Have a good day, Hermione," Harry smiled. "See you later."
-xxx-
That meeting happened nearly seven hours later, after the last period for the day was over. Harry met Hermione in the Myrtle's bathroom as promised. For him those seven hours were filled with grueling theoretical discussions just like the day before and then some real practice in spell-casting and mediation. Thankfully Myrtle was not here, and even then it was afraid of Henry, so the ghost in question would not tell their secrets to anyone.
"Alright," Hermione closed the door behind her. "Now spill."
"I will," Harry nodded. "But we'll need to go down," he gestured at the sinks and spoke in parseltongue, "Open."
The sinks moved apart revealing a large tube leading deep down, beneath the castle. Hermione took a sharp breath as the realization settled in and moved closer. She glanced down carefully and took a step back. Harry was not surprised to see the conflict of curiosity and fear written all over her face. His friend really had a unique relationship with Slytherin's basilisk. It seemed she finally made a decision.
"Why there?" was all she asked.
"Privacy," Harry shrugged. "Let's go."
Hermione nodded and stepped inside. Henry sighed. Now it would be harder for him to direct her flight away from all the grime and dirt, as for some reason he could not move far away from Harry. Harry, on the other hand, just blinked and smiled before following the girl.
It took them some time to get to the main chamber, but eventually the door with snakes on it closed behind them. The first thing Hermione did was study the basilisk, walking around its body and looking at certain parts of it carefully, as if noting something down in an invisible notebook. Harry meanwhile waited patiently on the sidelines. He was in no hurry after all, and neither was Henry.
"Alright," Hermione finally looked at him. "What is it Harry? Why does it need to be discussed here?"
"Hermione," Harry smiled nervously and glanced at Henry, who smirked, "meet myself."
That was the exact moment Henry materialized. A man of average height with short cropped black hair and green eyes behind round spectacles stood behind him and looked at Hermione neutrally.
"Harry, why is there a second, older you?" Hermione asked slowly, her body frozen.
"It's not actually me," Harry tried to explain, but judging by Hermione's frown that only served to confuse her more. "Well he is but, you see…"
"Allow me," Henry said, Harry nodded gratefully. "I am indeed a Harry Potter, but I am in fact much older than the one standing near me. I believe this book will be of help to you," he snapped his fingers and "The Throne of Heroes" floated from Harry's bag to Hermione's hands. The girl took it and gingerly opened it. If Harry was afraid of damaging old books, Hermione must have thought them positively priceless. It didn't take her long to figure things out though. Only fourty minutes of reading, while Harry practiced his meditation under Henry's oversight.
"You're a Heroic Spirit," Hermione stated, alerting both Harrys. She looked at Henry. "How did you manage to become one? The book says a human must not just leave a mark on humanity, but actually become a legend. What did you do… older Harry?"
"Come to think of it, I'm curious as well," Harry nodded. "You said you were Master of Death. You're crazy powerful and a nicer version of Snape. What does this all this mean?"
"Call me Henry, Ms Granger," Henry offered. "As to your questions…" the spirit sighed. "I cannot answer them. Forces beyond humankind bind the timeline and prevent me from revealing the future to you."
"But you're already changing it!" Hermione argued. "I mean, you're tutoring Harry… Although, considering how time works, I guess that would be an infinite loop…"
"I didn't summon a Heroic Spirit, Ms Granger," Henry shook his head. "It's very complicated and involves alternate dimensions. It is also entirely irrelevant. I can't reveal the future I know of, but I can help the one who summoned me. Let's leave it at that."
It was clear that Hermione wanted to continue the questioning, but Henry's stony face left no room for discussion. The girl sighed and turned to look at Harry, who shrugged. He also wanted to know more, but realized already that his future self (if Henry could be called that) did not in fact loose any of the stubbornness of his youth. Yes, Harry was not stupid enough to try to convince himself to do something he was absolutely not going to do.
"Alright," Hermione sighed. "Do you need my help?"
"I suggest that you keep your eyes open," Henry replied before Harry could. "Whoever entered Harry into this tournament are still out there, plotting. I suggest you question the most obvious things if you want to get out of this on top. Harry would no doubt appreciate someone watching the school as he will be far too busy."
"So you are really training all the time?" Hermione asked.
"You have no idea," Harry almost groaned. "Would you like to stay or get back to the castle, Hermione?"
"I think I'll stay," the girl replied. "It will be interesting to watch you train with… erm… yourself, Harry. Besides, I might just explore this Chmaber."
"A good idea," Henry nodded. "Very well. Harry, let's continue. I want you to keep mediation up while you are dodging my spells. And before you start whining, I'll go easy on you at first. Now go!" The spirit ordered as dozens of spells flashed into existence behind his back, though only few of them were sent at Harry.
"A bloody slave-driver…" Harry grumbled as he dodged the incoming curses.