Disclaimer; Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards for they are subtle and quick to wrath.
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In addition to Defense, Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, and Potions, Harry was pleased to see two "guided research" periods on his schedule. He assumed these were the times that Order members would be coming to tutor him. He had one on Wednesday and another on Saturday evening. The first thing on his schedule for the week was Potions class, strange how that always seemed to happen, but Harry was actually looking forward to it. Surely now that he was back at Hogwarts, Snape would be feeling empowered again, so Harry was ready to take him down a notch if needed. There were some spells he could discretely cast that would definitely catch his attention.
As it happened, NEWT level Potions was taught to all four houses in one class since the admission standard was so high. Harry and Hermione were the only Gryffindors who made the cut, but there were five Ravenclaws, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff, and Malfoy, Nott, Parkinson, Zabini, and Davis from Slytherin. When they filed into the classroom Harry was surprised that Zabini immediately set up on his right side, forcing Hermione to take his left as they took the table in the front of the class.
Snape scowled at him for daring to continue his class and made remarks about some people being lucky to attend, but did not harass him for his potion. Given that he had Hermione and Blaise helping him, there was little if anything to criticize and faulting his work would mean faulting one of his Slytherins as well. The potion they were assigned was one to induce euphoria, useless according to Snape, but Harry saw a few potential uses. People rarely complained when you influenced their minds in a pleasant way, which allowed you to get more done.
At the end of the hour Hermione and Blaise bottled three samples and labeled them before taking them to Professor Snape. Harry remained at the station and poured the rest off into a large flask. When he bent to place the flask in his bag, Harry heard the noise of breaking glassware. With a sigh, he pulled the flask back out to fill another sample when he Snape stopped him with a sneer.
"There will be no swapping your work with a store bought potion in my class Potter. Since you cannot provide me with an undoctored potion to grade I will have to mark your failure for the day." Snape told him entirely too happily.
"Professor Snape since we worked together, why can't Ms. Zabini and I both receive credit based on her sample? It came from the same cauldron after all." Harry tried to reason with him.
"Failure," Snape repeated.
Watching Snape's robes billow menacingly as he left, Harry decided this wouldn't stand. He focused his mind on the illusion he wished to create and rubbed a bit of fleece from a newborn lamb across his brow. To anyone else it would appear he was merely wiping off sweat after a bit of work, but combined with the mental focus and two words of magic he was able to pull the fleece over more than his own eyes.
"Professor Snape, I think I heard someone knocking from inside your office. Maybe you should check that while I get started on another potion for you." Harry stared his Professor in the eye.
"I heard nothing, ten points from Gryffindor for lying to a professor!"
"How do you know I'm lying?" Harry challenged with a glint in his eye.
When Snape pulled open his door in anger, all the color drained from his face and he reared back in shock. Standing in the middle of the office and reading a book bound with human skin was something that frightened Snape to his core. The twelve foot tall red winged demon who decimated Voldemort's forces closed his book and straightened up. He began to lovingly stroke the hilt of his lightning bolt shaped sword and smiled a mouth full of tiny daggers at the Potions Professor. Snape slammed his door shut and cast every locking charm in the book at it before conjuring a heavy beam to bar the door.
Harry coughed to catch his professor's attention, "Professor, I don't think I have time before my next class to finish this potion. Would you like me to come back later to finish it?"
Snape glared at him for a moment before responding. "You'll receive the same grade as Zabini, how fortunate you chose a competent partner for today. Get out of my sight."
"Indeed, I just hope there won't be anymore accidents in the future." Harry made air quotes as he mentioned accidents, and then grabbed his bag and headed for the door.
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"I'm telling you Albus, the boy is worse than ever. He's pure evil!" Snape insisted
"Severus, I've listened to you complain about Harry for years now. I've had enough. Like you, Mr. Potter has my complete trust." Dumbledore responded calmly.
"He's consorting with demons. How can he still have your trust?"
"He has accused you of worse over the years and I still trust you, it will take more than words to convince me." Dumbledore told him. "I am disappointed that you cannot put your differences behind you, Severus. I'm sure that Harry's teacher wouldn't let him do anything like that."
"What do you really know about his mysterious teacher anyway? You don't know what he could be up to." Snape pointed out.
"Harry vouched for him, and he helped drive off Voldemort. So at the very least we know that he's on our side. And he does have good taste in wine." Dumbledore began searching his mind for absolutely anything at all to say.
"That was his teacher? Albus by all that's holy that thing is the problem! Fine, maybe I've overreacted in the past, but this time at least trust me enough to meet him for yourself."
"I still think you just need to relax, but if it will make you happy I'll see if he has some time for a short visit." The Headmaster said resignedly.
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Harry's first special session was with Professor McGonagall on Wednesday. She offered to teach him purely practical transfiguration and conjuring and possibly the animagus transformation if he was capable. Harry declined the animagus training since he would soon have something just as useful if not more so. Maybe after the war was over he could research how the animagus transformation became an inherent magic that could be used at any time. Making the spells to alter his body drastically permanent held appeal but not at the cost of only having one shape.
The practical transfiguration and conjuring turned out to be spells that would be useful and fast to cast at the cost of long term stability or power. They were not taught in the official curriculum because if a person could conjure a chair that lasts for hours, why would they learn a spell where the conjured chair only lasted a few minutes? Speed was not something that was essential to most people when transfiguring or conjuring, but it could save Harry's life.
The first spell McGonagall showed him was a simple swirl of the wand and three syllables to cast. It conjured any simple substance but lacked definition or detail. After a few attempts with the professor correcting any errors, he was able to conjure a crude wooden stool.
"Good work, now we just need to give you proper incentive to perfect it. May I see your wand for a moment?" McGonagall extended her hand to him. When Harry gave his wand to her, she muttered a few words and waved her wand in a moderately complex pattern over it.
"What were you thinking of for incentive?" Harry asked curiously.
McGonagall shot a leg locking charm at him and instantly his feet snapped together and remained planted to the ground. She tossed him his wand. "You perform best under pressure. When you absolutely need it your magic is impeccable, all other times it is passable. I've restricted your wand so that it can only conjure, let's see if you can use it to block my spells."
Without another word, a stinging hex caught him on his arm. Harry tried to conjure something to shield himself with as another spell hit him. This one didn't do anything immediately apparent, but Harry still had to resist the urge to swear. Spell after spell came at him, slowly at first, then increasing in frequency. Maybe a third of the spells were stinging or pinching hexes to keep him focused but it was the others that inspired Harry. Little by little, McGonagall was changing his appearance and outfit to embarrass him. After wearing robes for five years, it wasn't too horrifying to suddenly be wearing a dress, but the style gave him pause. A simple frock or sundress would be annoying, but McGonagall seemed to be taking revenge for seven years of having the Marauders around and put him in a bright red evening gown. When Harry heard the spell Lavender used to produce lipstick, things finally clicked and a block of wood caught the "curse".
Soon he was catching more and more spells in his makeshift shields and decided to counter attack. Pulling a marble from his pocket, Harry made motions with his hands as if stretching a soap bubble before bringing them together and saying the incantation. Like when he captured Lestrange in his test, the air seemed to grow thick and solidify around the Head of Gryffindor House, forming a faceted sphere she could not escape from. She tried a few spells to break it, and then had to quickly counter them as they began to reflect back at her. With a snap of his fingers, Harry's unseen servant began tugging at McGonagall's wand. Seeing Harry's smirk, she turned loose of it and simply stared at him in anticipation.
Harry took the wand as it floated to him and cancelled the various spells. "After the first task of the Tournament, I told Hermione if I ever needed help with a spell she should threaten me with a dragon. It would appear lipstick is just as effective."
"I'm glad you found your incentive, now let me out of here." She grumbled.
"Oh I don't know it's tempting to give you my wand and see how well you do when our positions are reversed. Sadly I already know that I wouldn't get a shot in." Harry reached out and with a simple knock from his hand, the sphere shattered and dissolved back into simple air. "I'd appreciate it if you'd fix my wand. Next time don't assume that just because I don't have a working wand I'm helpless. As the Headmaster probably told you, I've been taking lessons from others as well."
When the spell over her broke, McGonagall gulped in air like a drowning person. She took her wand and removed the block she had placed. "Mr. Potter, please don't do that again. I really dislike enclosed spaces. It was an impressive spell though. Is it supposed to be a shield of some kind?"
"No, a shield that let other's spells in and prevented you from casting out would be counterproductive. It's meant to trap people."
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Harry snorted to himself when he remembered the request Dumbledore had made of him that morning. He knew that eventually the Headmaster would want to meet his master, but he hadn't expected Snape to be the catalyst. His Saturday tutoring session with Dumbledore covered a quick history of how Tom Riddle became Voldemort. Harry appreciated the insight into his opponents mind, but would have preferred a lesson in wordless magic or alchemy. At the end of the hour Dumbledore requested his meeting and Harry promised he would try to contact his mentor before he left.
Sneaking out of the castle was as easy as when he was a third year. His invisibility cloak and map never failed him. He took the passage behind the statue of the Humped-back witch until he left the edge of the wards and apperated to Diagon Alley. He wore the appearance of a tired old man as he entered Quality Quidditch Supplies. He bought all the bludgers they had in stock, muttering about "keeping them off the streets" while he did. He also purchased a single snitch and a referee's spell book.
After shrinking his purchases, Harry went to Madam Malkin's and a small tool shop in the slums of Knockturn Alley before popping back to his tower. Cracking open the cellar revealed that his stasis charms needed work when the smell of death and decay rose out of the hole. Harry applied a bubble head charm and descended into the makeshift crypt, looking for the tallest Death Eater. Once he found the corpse that best fit his idea, he transfigured it into a bone like the Fake Moody did to Crouch.
Harry renewed the stasis and colloportus charms and apperated back to the tunnel underneath Honeydukes. Since the statue guarding the entrance was also on the third floor, Harry only had to sneak across the hall to get to the entrance to his lair.
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The trapdoor leading down Harry locked with a password. Since everyone would expect him to use the Marauder's catch phrase he deliberately avoided it and most other phrases relating to his life. The point was to keep people out after all. He ended up choosing something fitting but with little personal meaning, sanctum sanctorum.
The descent down the hole was it's own challenge, without the soft Devil's snare at the bottom to catch people, it was hard to descend. If, like Harry, the person was a good flyer they would be able to pull out of the steep dive if they were on a broom. If they were using a rope or ladder, it would be a long climb.
In the room that used to house the flying keys, Harry charmed the tiles on the floor to match the house colors and strung thin wires that made flying impossible. He cast permanent sticking charms on all the tiles except the black and blue ones. Just to be a prick, he wrote a riddle on the wall above the door that was deliberately misleading. "The path to knowledge is paved with the blood of the good, and the coin of the deceitful." Naturally anyone who came this far would assume the red and silver squares were safe to cross.
Moving to the room that used to house the giant chess set, Harry returned the bludgers and snitch to their normal size. With the help of the referee's spell book, Harry enchanted both doorway's to keep the balls from flying out. Then he linked all of the bludgers to the snitch so that they would deactivate when it was caught. It was doubtful that anyone would be suicidal enough to enter a room with twenty active bludgers, but since Harry knew the secret, he could just summon the snitch whenever he needed to pass.
The final room before his private area was both the most imposing and the simplest. Harry returned the corpse of the tall Death eater to it's original form and set to work preparing it for its used. After several hours of preparation, Harry enacted the ancient magic and watched as the animating spell burned the flesh from the corpse with eerie purple flames.
Following Harry's commands, the skeleton dressed itself in the long black hooded robes, tied a simple rope belt around its midsection, and picked up his two accessories. Following Harry's last command to guard the inner door against intruders, the skeleton moved to the center of the room and went still. With the first and hardest part accomplished, Harry set up the rest of the innermost challenge blocking his study rooms. He enchanted most of the room into a deep, impenetrable darkness that hid all the details of the room. He left one spotlight shining down on his guardian and then stepped back to take in the over all effect.
Anyone who entered found a perfectly dark room; where the only thing visible was a tall skeletal figure in black robes wearing a hood. In the figure's right hand was a gleaming scythe, and the left held a brass hourglass suspended from a chain. It looked exactly how Harry thought the personification of Death should look. If anyone tried to pass, the skeleton would attack with the scythe, but it was unlikely anybody would want to try. Harry knew that a single skeleton was no major challenge, but the symbolism should deter anyone who came this far.
In a way, the descent into Harry's study was symbolic of the commitment he made to learn his magic. Initially he must learn the magic words to unlock the path. Then he descended into the unknown, from which there was no ready way back. When faced with the false riddle, he learned not to allow others to tell him the way he should go. The bludgers and snitch represented the ever present dangers of failure and the gem of success. The skeleton was death, everyone would die eventually. It could be avoided temporarily, and the dead given new bodies or reanimated, but ultimately it was inevitable. It was only when one accepted death and his own mortality that he could really discover the limits of magic, or so Raistlin insisted. It was an odd sentiment from someone who was dead before Harry had ever met him, but if anyone would know the mysteries of death… Only someone who was willing to discover the words, delve into the unknown, walk their own path, risk injury, and accept death would be able to find him while he worked with magic most wouldn't understand.
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Harry was almost completely magically exhausted when he returned to his dorm that night. He'd just left the showers with only a towel around his waist when Ron stuck his head out of the curtains around his bed.
"Hey Harry where've you been? No one has seen you all day."
"I've been busy. You know what I found out at the end of the year, I don't have time to fool around anymore." Harry said seriously.
"Is that why you've got an hourglass on your arm?" Ron asked curiously.
Harry looked down quickly, he hadn't realized his mark was visible. "Umm… Yeah, it's there to remind me that we don't have much time. He's coming for me Ron, and I need every second to prepare."
"It's kind of like the Dark Mark though, how it's on your arm. Gave me a right scare it did."
"It just makes it easy to remind myself. I can look down in class and there it is peaking out of my sleeve, telling me to get back to work. But do you know what it really means Ron?"
"No, what?"
"It's counting how long old Volde's got left. He may be coming for me, but I'm going to get him when he does." Harry said, smiling like Ron smiled at a particularly juicy steak.