Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait, guys. It just wasn't working for me, but here it is! I hope this explains a few things some of you brought up in reviews.
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"And people say that vampires are manipulative," Aiden said from where he lounged on a branch near Jeachen's head.
"I haven't the slightest clue what you mean by that statement," Jeachen said as he watched the human professor leave the forest.
"Oh?" Aiden dropped from the branch to the ground to stand in front of Jeachen. "So, that whole 'toy with his mind to keep him from seeing you until his little friend took off' trick wasn't manipulative? The mind trick you asked me to do wasn't manipulative? Or-?"
"Thank you, Aiden. That's enough," Jeachen said tightly as he turned and started back towards the others. "I'll admit that I used magic on his mind until we were directly on top of him and he couldn't get away. The rest was only things that needed to be done to insure that he wouldn't kill himself before the end of the year."
Aiden walked beside the centaur and thought about the last sentence for a moment. "You think he's a suicide risk?"
Jeachen only raised an eyebrow before nodding.
"Why is he so important? How did he return?" Aiden asked in frustration. "You've been leading on all of us about how he is the last great hope, but you haven't deigned to explain what that means to all of the creatures," Aiden burst out, frustrated at the dearth of information. "Why call the creatures? Why now? Why for him?"
"He holds the future in his hands. As to how he returned...we don't know." Jeachen pushed a branch out of his way and jumped over a log. "The stars told us when he died and when he returned." Jeachen sighed and looked over at Aiden. "There is not much more that I can tell you, for I don't know the entire story myself."
"I hope you and the others don't believe that our cooperation now means that we have aligned the Vampiric Council with a wizard," Aiden said in a serious voice. "That's the last thing we want. Yes, his situation intrigues us, but we do not wish to become the puppets or playthings of any wizard. We cannot forget past wrongs and persecution because of an interesting development in one wizard."
"We are not asking that of you. Neither is he. In fact, I think that Harry Potter would be appalled if you felt in any way obligated to protect him. The only reason we included everyone is that we needed the power. We couldn't make the protections without that power the magical creatures united could provide." Jeachen smirked a little. "I think the wizards themselves would be quite distressed to hear that every magical creature gave Harry Potter a little power to allow the protections to be set."
"Protections against non-humans, which is just as good as saying protection against us!" Aiden spat out in fury.
"Yes and no," Jeachen said. "None of the creatures will hurt him. They will not fight with him, but they will not harm him. All creatures are neutral until they choose otherwise. Does that agree with you, Aiden?"
"Yes, of course. The last thing the Council wants is an accord with the Boy-Who-Lived."
"Do you know of what haunts this forest at night?" Jeachen said somberly.
"I have heard rumors of his return...we all have. Killing unicorns, if I'm not mistaken." Aiden folded his hands behind his back and studied Jeachen out of the corner of his eye.
"You heard correctly. He is here and he will not stop until he has regained a form and his power," Jeachen announced. "He is neither human nor creature. He is the reason for the protections, not anything or anyone else. We must ensure Harry Potter's survival until the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"I can't say that I will do more than I have already done. I suppose it all depends on the Council and what they decide to do for Harry Potter. I already know the Council despises wizards, especially wizards that despise us. We are persecuted by English laws and customs, yes, but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would have us destroyed the moment he grasps power."
"You understand the situation, yes?" Jeachen said as he held out one hand towards the vampire.
"Clearly," Jeachen said grimly. "What of the other creatures? How involved are they in this plan?"
"The goblins and house elves have been talking about him for months now, watching him and ensuring proper care. The goblins have kept a close watch on his monetary interests and the house elves have practically smothered him with their care at the request of Fawkes...that reminds me," he stopped and held out an arm. "Fawkes!"
Aiden jumped when the phoenix appeared on the centaur's arm. "Show-off," he muttered as the bird trilled a greeting.
"Hello, friend." Jeachen reached up and scratched under Fawkes' chin. "Did you enjoy the meeting?" A series of chirps and trills followed the question.
"You can't possibly understand that." The look Jeachen sent Aiden quelled the vampire's disbelief. "Or maybe you can."
"Yes, I do," Jeachen said shortly before turning his attention back to Fawkes. "Keep an eye on our friend, Fawkes. He may need some reassurance that he wasn't harmed."
Fawkes chirped once before disappearing into flames.
"Oh, so the bird's in on the manipulation, too?" Aiden demanded.
Jeachen gave a dry chuckle before starting to walk again. "Fawkes thought of it!" The dumbfounded expression on Aiden's face caused the chuckles to turn into full blown laughter.
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"Come on, Potter! Get up here!" Harry's teacher bellowed from the platform above Harry's head.
Harry hung from the rope and tried to catch his breath. It was well into his second month of training, and he was fighting every step of the way. This man had beaten him, held him under coercive magic, bindings, wards and several magical objects Harry had never even heard of, much less found himself able to break. He was sleep-deprived, courtesy of the sadistic man shouting above him, black and blue from 'training', weary to the bone and seriously considering ending it all.
He hadn't told the man, of course. That would have been stupidity, and Harry's sense of self-preservation wouldn't allow him to say anything about his inner thoughts aloud. He would have been subjected to a lecture that would have put Molly Weasley's to shame and then made to suffer something worse than what was happening now. Don't think about her. She's not yours, Potter. She never was. He shook his head a little to dismiss the voice in his mind, where even his subconscious was repeating the strenuous lessons.
"Potter, move it or you'll regret it!" Harry braced his feet against the rope and lifted one hand over the other as he inched up the rope. "Faster! This is not a Sunday drive!"
Little clues like that told Harry that his teacher was well-versed in both the Muggle and magical worlds...not that the idea made him like the man any better. In fact, he could care less about him.
Harry pondered when he could possibly get away from this situation. He was shaving now, although he had needed to bumble through the "how" of learning to shave. He would have never asked this person for help...no, he would have rather cut open his throat before asking the man to teach him to shave. The razors had just appeared in Harry's bathroom one morning and Harry had found a new one every morning. No wand, no magic, but he had razors. Muggles managed to end the pain like that, didn't they? His hands slipped on the rope as his legs started giving out. He gritted his teeth against the burn on his hands and inched upwards.
"I'm becoming impatient, Potter!" Harry ignored the shouting. He could care less what the other man thought, or wanted, or expected. He only wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.
His upper body started to shake in exhaustion as Harry fought his way up the rope. He had quite a ways to go and he wasn't moving any faster. He glanced down as he tried to wrap his feet around the rope again. He was extremely high off the ground. Yes, he wanted to end it, but he didn't want to end as a human pancake. He would control it, not gravity or anything else.
"POTTER!" Harry snapped out of his thoughts and struggled to unwrap one of his hands from around the rope. His fingers had started to cramp and his muscles were fighting to hold onto the rope, not to let go of it. "Let's go, Potter!"
Harry looked up to find his teacher glaring down at him with all the disapproval Uncle Vernon had had for him. He lifted his hand again, and his head lolled as his vision started to black out. He took a deep breath to steady himself and tried to hold onto the rope. Not like this. I refuse to go like this!
"Potter?" The voice sounded different than usual. It was so odd and unexpected that Harry had to take a few seconds to process what it meant. That was concern. He was surprised and forced himself to look up. His hands lost their grip, and he started to slide down the rope. He gasped and fought for his hold. He almost panicked, but found himself clinging to the rope again with shaking arms and without the support of his legs.
He heard an odd noise from beside him and looked to see a rope dropping down to the ground. He looked up and his vision swam for a few minutes as he watched his teacher slide down the rope towards him. A click near his waist made him look down, and his head weaved a bit as he tried to find his balance. A karabiner was attached to his harness that he always wore when training, but had yet to see it used. His eyes followed the rope attached and noticed that it was hooked to another karabiner, which was hooked onto his teacher's own harness. He stared at the man, perplexed at what was happening. His mouth was moving. Harry had to focus on what the man was saying to understand.
"Let go of the rope, son." Harry stared at him. Why should he let go of the rope? He would fall. "I can't help you if you don't let go." Well, Harry was used to no help. He was fine on his own. He didn't need help. "Just let go, Potter."
Harry's hands started to slide again, and he noticed that the rope was stained red where his hands had been. He pondered what that meant as his vision wavered again. He sensed an arm go around his waist and felt his body pulled against another person. Several quick clicks had him secured to another harness and a firm hand started working on his grip. "Let go, Potter. I've got you. You can let go now." A harsh but worried voice said in his ear. "Just let go."
"Can't," Harry croaked as he tried to make his fingers obey him. "I can't." He whispered as blood started trailing down his arms.
"Just relax. I've got you." The voice sounded comforting in a way, as though it was afraid to betray too much emotion at once.
"I can't see," Harry said as he vision started blacking out. "I can't..."
"Just let go. Close your eyes. I won't let you fall." The voice said quickly as the hand continued to pry at his fingers.
"Already did," Harry said as he allowed his eyes to fall shut. He had fallen from the person he used to be and became something he was ashamed to know. His hands left the rope at last and his body dangled in its harness as he succumbed to exhaustion. He heard someone shouting for a medic as they started down the rope.
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He woke back in his bunk. He tried to move and found that a stasis spell held him in place. He was about to start fighting the spell, as he hated those more than anything else his teacher had done to him, when he noticed the bandages on his hands. He stared at his hands resting on the blanket and pondered why he wasn't already healed and back at training. That had been the pattern since he had first woken up in his own personal hell. It was standard operating procedure to have Harry healed as quickly as possible and then tossed back into training. This made no sense.
The door to his quarters opened and a white-coated medic walked into the room. "Ah, good. You're awake," he said happily when Harry blinked up at him. "How are you feeling?" Harry only blinked again and the man gave a nervous laugh. "Sorry about that. You had one hell of a nightmare, son. We had to use the spell to keep you in bed." The medic waved his wand, and Harry felt the restriction lift, but he was far too weary to do anything about it. "Now, how are you feeling?"
"Who?" Harry rasped. The medic grimaced at the noise Harry's throat made and summoned a pitcher of water and a glass. He poured a bit into the glass and a straw came out of the man's pocket. He put the straw into the glass and offered the straw to Harry's lips. Harry took a sip of water and allowed it to trickle down his throat.
"My name is Medic Dawson. Now, please, answer my question. How are you feeling?"
Harry took a moment to pin down how he was feeling and settled for a one word answer. "Confused."
The man actually smiled. "I asked for it, didn't I?" he said more to himself than to Harry. "Physically, please."
"Weak. Shaky. Hot." Harry kept the answers short. His previous experience with the healers here had taught him that expedience was best.
"Weak and shaky are to be expected. You've been running a fever for the past three days, so hot is to be expected as well. Are you hungry?"
"No," Harry said. The thought of food quite turned his stomach.
"Thirsty?" The medic seemed to want Harry to admit to something, so Harry nodded. Harry received another sip of water. "Nauseated?"
"Not bad," Harry answered. "What's wrong with me?" he rasped out. He received more water for his troubles.
"Physical and mental exhaustion, combined with a nasty case of flu." The medic sounded quite upset at this notion. "Probably emotional exhaustion as well," he said in a whisper that Harry thought he wasn't meant to hear. "You're on bed rest until further notice, soldier. You're to eat what you're given, follow every medical order, and not to return to training until you are cleared by me personally. Is that clear?" The last question sounded like a command, so Harry answered in the way that had been drilled into him.
"Yes, sir!" The sharp affirmation only brought on a fit of coughing. The medic cursed and drew Harry's body up into a sitting position. Harry grimaced as stiff and sore muscles started screaming at him. The medic poured a potion down Harry's throat, and the coughing slowed and then stopped altogether. Harry caught his breath for a few seconds before the medic lowered him back to his bed.
"Rest now. I'll let your trainer know what's going on." Harry nodded as the medic left the room. He stared at his ceiling for a few minutes before his eyes drifted shut. He would only rest them for a few minutes...
The nightmare that followed nearly caused Harry to fall out of his bed. That had been the worst one since he was brought here. He was starting to get used to the feelings of doubt he had about whether or not his friends would still be alive when, no, if he was returned to them. His teacher had said that he didn't know when or if that would happen. The shaking set in; he had become accustomed to the uncontrollable tremors from his nightmares. He just wished it wouldn't happen.
Harry decided a short walk, oh, down the hallway and back, would help to ease his nerves. He kicked back the blankets and raised himself to a sitting position. So far, so good, Potter. He pushed himself to his feet and waited until his equilibrium evened out. Okay, now one foot in front of the other. He made it to his bedroom door and wondered what time it was. Getting caught out of bed against medical advice was not something he really wanted to deal with when he was feeling so out of sorts.
He edged out into the hallway and started towards the other end. The amazing thing about all of this was that he hadn't felt bad when he was on the rope. Tired, sure, but not ill. Why didn't he notice before passing out? Wait, was that what had happened? He felt the memory of something poking at his brain. He nearly lost his footing when he realized that his teacher, the man he had grown to despise, actually had pried Harry from the rope. What had he said? I won't let you fall.
"I don't think this pattern of training is good for him." Harry froze at the voice coming from the common room. "I don't feel that he is as bad as you made him out to be."
Hello, what was this? Harry edged closer to the doorway and focused on the voice.
The voice that followed was distorted. "My information comes from direct sources. The Potter boy spent most of his life being coddled by the teachers at Hogwarts, save one or two here and there. He needs to be strengthened."
"Not like this." Harry couldn't believe the feeling starting to grow inside him. His personal tormentor was standing up to, well, whoever that was. "Have you ever seen him have a nightmare?"
"Can't say I've had the honor," the other voice sneered.
"The look in his eyes when he wakes," Harry grimaced. He hated when people saw him before he was aware. "It's like looking into the abyss."
"Don't be absurd." Harry figured out that the other voice was coming from the Floo. He wanted to run into the common room and call out a destination, but didn't want to push his luck just then.
"I'm being serious, my friend. I think your intelligence on Potter is flawed, possibly through bias. He's on bed rest, medic's orders. After he's released for training, I'm taking over his regimen. He won't be coddled, and he will be trained, all at once."
"Doc, you have your orders," the strange voice said.
"Those orders are only in effect so long as they are effective. They are not, so I am stepping in to amend those orders and adapting the mission as I see fit. All actions I am going to take are well within my parameters. I'll let you know how I'm getting on."
"You'll be calling me in three days, begging me to take the boy off your hands," the other voice chuckled. Hey, I'm not that bad!
"For some reason, I doubt that, old friend," Harry could almost see the man's smirk. "One question: did you know Potter was beaten as a child?"
"Impossible," the Floo voice said.
"He has the scars, and the attitude. Have you ever noticed that he hates being in a room where something or someone is between him and the exit? He flinches away from unexpected contact, and protects his vital organs at all costs, instinctively."
"He had good Defense teachers. The Floo voice then made an odd sound that Harry was sure was foul language. "I can't really say that, can I?"
"No, you can't. Oh, he has nightmares about being hit with a belt, a switch, and something called a Smeltings stick. Pleads with someone called 'Uncle Vernon'. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
"The boy's maternal uncle through marriage, I believe." The Floo voice paused for a second. "Are you speaking truly, Doc?"
"I wouldn't lie about something like this. I fear we have taken the wrong approach with him and may have caused irreversible damage." Doc sighed and Harry heard him drumming his fingers on the mantelpiece. "I'll let you know how things go with him. Please, for all things magical and mundane, would you stop calling him 'boy'?"
"I make no promises," the Floo voice said flatly. "Good luck; you'll need it."
"Oh, yes, always so very encouraging, mate. A bright ray of sunshine, Donnelly."
"You and that ridiculous nickname!" the Floo voice snapped.
"And what have you been calling me? Oh, yes. 'Doc'. That's a good name. At least yours has meaning!"
"Hmm, schoolboy nicknames aside...I must go. I'll be in touch." The Floo call ended and then Harry realized that the last place he wanted to be was in the hallway. He hurried back to his room and collapsed into his bed. The conversation certainly gave him something to think about while he was confined to bed.
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Harry rolled over and snuggled deeper into the blankets surrounding him. He was extremely comfortable, and the last thing he wanted to do was get up for training and listen to-wait a moment. He put his hand out and felt around. He wasn't in the right type of sleepwear. The room's smell and feeling was off. He wasn't in his bunk. Oh, it had all been a dream.
Right, so what happened? Harry put his dream away in his mind and tried to remember what happened. Centaurs. That's right. The centaurs, and there were vampires and SOMEONE'S TOUCHING ME!
He stiffened in response. The hand stopped moving. "Are you awake, Harry?"
What's she doing here? And why does she insist on petting my hair? Harry wormed his head out of the blankets and peered up at Mrs. Malfoy. "Hi," he said softly. Hi? Is that all I can come up with? Pathetic.
"Thank goodness you're alright. Let me get Madame Pomfrey." Harry didn't want her to get Madame Pomfrey. He could handle one or the other, but certainly not the both of them. He reached out and touched her hand. "Just stay here, dear. I'll be right back." Where does she think I'm going to go?
She was right back with Madame Pomfrey in tow. Harry watched blearily as Madame Pomfrey waved her wand and muttered under her breath. "You're going to be fine, Mr. Potter. You just need some rest and plenty of it with a few good meals in you." A full tray was set in front of him not five minutes later, and he was told to tuck in. He looked around, completely confused and extremely tired.
"Just eat as much as you can, Harry," Narcissa Malfoy said as she resumed her seat next to his bed.
Harry hid a grimace and picked up the fork. He ate automatically, not quite up to caring about anything except following the orders he was given and then going directly back to sleep. He felt almost sick when she allowed him to stop, and she took the tray away. He relaxed back into the pillows piled behind him and sighed as his eyes closed. He would figure out what had happened tomorrow. Now, he just wanted to sleep. He felt blankets tucked around him and a light hand on his head.
"Sleep tight, Harry," A hand brushed back his hair, and he sighed. Tomorrow he would find answers. Not now.
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Author's Note 2: I have no idea why I'm posting now. No one is going to be reading this, considering that the book is coming out in less than twenty-four hours. Please, don't leak or spoil the book in your review. Wait at least two weeks to mention anything about the book, okay? This story is AU, so the seventh book shouldn't affect it at all. Everyone have fun and be safe out there!