Disclaimers: Come on guys... Do you really think I'd be writting a fan fiction if I owned Harry Potter?

Chapter 6: Past Answers

Hermione Granger wasn't very pleased with her day. It was supposed to be their anniversary, a day of celebration. She had planned it for weeks now and nothing had gone as it should have. First there was Harry's Will Reading. It was depressing and difficult, but it finally ended pretty well: he had forgiven her and the others. Things could have continued to go well after that. She was supposed to meet Ginny, have a couple of drinks and girl talk, then shopping for sexy underwear, a romantic dinner and finally some quality time with Neville. But nooo… Death Eaters had to fuck it up! Was it to much to ask? Just one day of peace? She was doing her part; couldn't she have a bit of time for herself?

Instead of drinks and girl talk, she had to make a portkey powerful enough to break an Anti-Apparition (and Anti-Portkey) ward. Then there was this guy in a dark cloak. He knew her, and she was pretty sure she knew him too. His voice wasn't unknown, just… just like coming from the past; but when in the past? If the guy wasn't an enigma enough like this, he had to disappear when nobody could and take Seamus Finnigan with him. Where did they go? She didn't know anything, just that they found the Auror twenty minutes later, out cold, bonded and gagged in a dark corner of the Alley. Now she had to wait as Neville was interrogating his subordinate to glean information. The dinner was burned, she was hungry, cold and pissed off. She was seriously considering getting dressed and Apparate to the Ministry when she heard a loud 'POP' and Neville's voice.

"Honey, I'm home!"

"About time too! What took you so long?" Hermione asked in suppressed anger

Sensing a fight coming up, Neville tried to sooth her. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I took more time than planned."

Obviously it wasn't the good thing to say and Neville knew it the second the words exited his mouth.

"MORE TIME? NEVILLE IT'S THREE IN THE MORNING! YOU STAYED THERE FOR THE LAST NINE HOURS! NINE HOURS! WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO? DO I NEED TO REMIND YOU WHAT DAY IT IS?" Hermione screamed beside herself.

Neville groaned. Even the temper of Ginny Thom-, no Weasley, wasn't enough to rival the Unspeakable when she was angry and Merlin she was angry today.

"I didn't realize it was that late pumpkin, but I suggest you lower your voice, what about the neighbors? Do I have to remind you, who wanted to live in a muggle area?"

Hermione had the decency to look sheepish (just a bit mind you) as she moved her wand Silencing the room. She crossed her arms, still wand out and growled.

"So? I'm listening. What's the story this time?"

Neville swallowed. It wasn't his fault per say but he knew that from Hermione's point of view it was. Furthermore, she was technically his superior and could learn everything she wanted from his reports. Still he was hard pressed: the interrogation didn't go that well… Stuffs were revealed and it wasn't the right timing. He was trying to find what to say (and especially what to hide and how) when his girlfriend's voice brought him back to the current situation (that and also the small pain Curse she had just hit him with).

Calmly Neville made his way to the sofa and Summoned two glasses and a bottle of FireWiskey. He sat and served himself. He emptied his drink in one gulp. As he filled the glasses Hermione settled herself in an armchair. Finally Neville took a deep breath and started to talk.

"I guess you know what happened until we portkeyed to the Ministry, with the three Death Eaters, the corpse and Seamus?"

Hermione nodded.

"Everything was great. We had three prisoners that we managed to lock up before any rescue mission could come to us. The dead guy happened to be Morag MacDougal the Ravenclaw who went to school with us. The Head gave us a warrant and we went to search his house. We didn't find anything until one of us suggested getting a Curse Breaker. I went to Gringotts and asked for Bill Weasley. Apparently he fucked up something as he is suspended… Any way, I managed to track him at his parents', being stuffed by his mother. When we came back he started to cast some revealing spells. I've never been so ashamed in my life: in five minutes clock in hand, he discovered three secret rooms and took the wards down. The first room was a library, full of Dark Art volumes. The second was a potion lab, kind of well furnished."

"Kind of?" asked Hermione.

"Well, there wasn't a single legal ingredient, but it was well furnished enough to make some good poisons and Dark Potions. The third room contained four cells. The two first were empty. The third and fourth had one muggle girl each. Apparently they are from Ireland. He captured them four or five months ago and kept them under the Imperius. They were his sex-slaves. They were able to describe the face of two or three dozen of men who 'enjoyed' themselves with them, but…"

"But what!" spat Hermione.

"But they are muggles and you know very well that they wouldn't be considered as valuable witnesses in court. If we didn't know these guys we could have tried to follow them and get some stuff to justify a home search but we already suspect them, or should I say 'know them but are unable to prove it'? Anyway, we Obliviated the girls of anything magical and dropped them in a hospital. Until then, everything was good."

Neville posed as he refilled his drink and collected his thoughts.

"It's when we came back to the Ministry that the shit started: the three cells were empty. Nobody knew anything. It's as if they had never been were there. The personal belongings were gone, there was no file, no entry log, not even a single hair left! When I asked where the items from MacDougal's place were, nobody knew. I finally found the guy I had left in charge of the cataloging. He was dead. Later we learned he had somehow eaten a poisoned stuff… As if! I mean, we all have a bezoar with us and the guy manage to poison himself with a cookie? Come on!"

Neville's rant was stopped by Hermione's question. "And the Dark books and ingredients?" He inwardly swore. There was no way he could hide anything from her, she was too smart. He knew there was no point in turning around the bush.

"Gone. As far as the Minister is concerned, they never were in the Ministry, nobody saw them. Apparently we never even found them. I'm supposed to have dreamed about it." Neville shook his head. "Bill isn't supposed to have been there and you know how he is considered at the Ministry. The werewolf than doesn't transform… They don't like him very much even if they can't do anything about him...

"Then I interrogated Seamus to see if he knew something about the dark guy. Guess what? He doesn't! He claims the guy just changed place; with him of course. He says it wasn't Apparition nor a Portkey. Then he doesn't remember. He doesn't know where they were, what happened, just that we woke him twenty minutes after. We gave him a potion to see if had been Obliviated but it didn't react. We made our report and I was ready to come home when something happened."

Neville posed and drunk his glass. He didn't say anything for a good minute or two. Hermione was hoping in her seat. Finally, unable to contain herself anymore she asked "Well?"

Neville let a small smile grace his face at his girlfriend's impatience. He considered keeping a bit quiet, just to unnerve her, but decided it might no be the best course of action (especially after this pain Curse earlier).

"I was leaving when Terry came running and yelling I had to come and see. It appears that Seamus was tranquilly writing his rapport when all of a sudden he started to glow." Neville said. He posed to let it sink in and just added, "A dark blue glow."

Hermione covered her mouth. "My…"

"Exactly my thought… We checked him more thoughtfully and discovered he had indeed a Memory block. The thing is, it took very long for the potion to react. We have been able to pin point the Charm to his last couple of years in Hogwarts and proceeded to restore his memory. It was probably the biggest error of our lives."

"Why?" Hermione asked, bewildered. She had never been Obliviated (the Department of Mysteries was sure to make an in depth search every month) but she believed that every block should be removed. To her, you had to be whole to make decisions and understand things; and whole meant with a full memory. She couldn't bear the idea of missing a part of her mind.

Neville sighed. "Because there were actually five superposed Charms. Once we broke the three first ones, their energy was transferred to the two others. In short, if we were to touch the fourth one, Seamus would forget some events for ever."

"So? I mean, it's not like he knows what is hidden so he couldn't care less about them."

"The problem, dear, is that we broke the three first ones. Meaning he remembers some things. Some very unpleasant things. What we would like to know is what is hidden behind these blocks."

"Why? It won't do any good, especially if the first memories were that bad. Maybe he asked for the Charm in order to be able to keep on going…" Hermione theorized.

Neville shook his head. "Love, the Memory Charms were superposed, not continued… Meaning he remembered a bit more each time we removed a block. Right know, he knows nearly everything but the faces of…"

Neville abruptly stopped and sighed. He had talked too much! Knowing Hermione as he knew her (and he knew her very well), she wouldn't miss the opportunity and would press him until he told her everything.

Right in time, Hermione asked "The faces of whom?"

Neville tried to play dumb "Hum? What are you talking about sweet- OUCH!" Unfortunately, you can't do that and date the cleverest witch of the generation at the same time. Hermione's eyes were narrowed as she kept her wand pointed at his privates… "This Pain Curse hurts very much 'Mione!"

"So talk! And don't even try to sweet talk me out of it or you'll be sleeping on the sofa for the next twenty years!"

Neville swallowed. The sofa threat was only used as a last resort when she was really pissed. Well, there is still an ultimate threat, thought Neville, but I really would like to believe I can prevent her leaving me… Finally, his Gryffindor's courage abandoned him and he retold the horrible confession of their former classmate.

"When we took the first Charm out, Seamus remembered being put under the Imperius Curse. He didn't know by whom or for what purpose, just that it stayed on him until Graduation Day."

"When… When the second block was gone, he… he remembered a bit more. He remembered using an Unforgivable." He held his hand to prevent the question he knew was coming. "The Avada Kedavra." Neville sighed.

"Finally, with the third Charm taken care of, he remembered a few more things. He was given Polyjuice Potion by a student, but he doesn't know who or from which House, just that he didn't like the person and it wasn't the one who controlled him, even thought they were working together. I personally believe it was a Slytherin as Seamus had a good relation with everyone but the Snakes since he's a half-blood."

Neville stopped as tears started to fill his eyes. "He also remembered who he killed."

Hermione didn't say anything. Her mind was blank. She had memories coming back at her.

"Still it must be someone we know…"

"What? What do you mean? What do you know?"

"Nothing Herm', just a passing though…"

"You know what's worst? The more I think about it the more I believe we are, or at least were, friend with the one who did it."

"I had time to think you know. I figure someone must have used some Polyjuice then knock me cold when I came back to the common room, steal my wand, kill Ron in front of everybody, drop it and leave like if I had realized I had made a blunder. Simple but ingenious, like every plan involving Polyjuice."
"I don't know what you are talking about! I didn't do it! I went to see Professor Trelawney!"

"You left her thirty minutes before your 'supposed' first return to the Common Room. Difficult to believe it took you so long Mr. Potter…"

"I fell in the stairs! I was knocked out and when I woke up, I had nausea, I couldn't get up!"

"A bit too convenient Mr. Potter, don't you think? No more question to the accused, Minister."

Tears fell on Hermione's cheeks. She looked at Neville who was furiously whipping his own. When their eyes met, she went to ask him confirmation but he was quicker. With a nod he sadly said:

"He killed Ron."

..ooOoo..

Harry woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat. With a groan he got up, careful not to make his dog. I still need to find a name for him he thought. The moonlight bathing the room and the cold feel of stone against his bare feet helping to calm the pounding of his heart, he quietly made his way to the window and looked at the trees reflected in the night.

It was the seventh day of his stay in goblins' territory. At the beginning it was great, there were so many things to see and learn, like the fact that the entire city was inside mountains. At first Harry didn't understand why the goblins lived in the hillsides when the mounts were encircling a large forest better suited to shelter them, but Kilag, Griphook's father, had told him…

"This forest is magic, Mr. Potter. All the magical species you ever heard of live there. Unfortunately, some shouldn't exist. There are some 'mutants' we should have hunted but nobody is strong enough for that. I've already lost three sons to the trees; please don't go there."

"What is so dangerous in this forest?"

Kilag hadn't answered for a long time before he pulled out a golden necklace. There was a medallion attached to it, or at least it was what Harry thought.

"Look closely Mr. Potter. This is the last gift of my second son. It's a scale he found in the forest. It looks quite ordinary, but watch…"

The goblin took the scale in his hand and it started changing color. It went from black to red, then to gold, silver, blue, etc, an infinity of colors and then turned back to black.

"I just have to think of a color and the scale matches my thought… And I'm just holding it… Can you imagine the kind of magic possesses an animal with a skin composed of those? Trust my words Mr. Potter; you don't want to go in there."

Harry hadn't totally believed him and wanted to have a go, just to see if he could see some phoenixes or Griffins, but the next day seven young went in the forest. 'To have fun' they claimed. Three came back and they didn't survive more than a few hours despite the effort of the best healers… It clearly stopped Harry's exploration projects.

Harry had learned some valuable lessons. He was considered a guest, therefore nobody would lie to him nor disrespect him even though he could tell some didn't like the idea of a human roaming free in their land. He had also learned the hierarchical structure of goblins as well as their way of life. A whole part of the mountain, the Sanctitus, was forbidden to men (him included). There lived the Galif, the goblins' women. No male but the Hundel (the Chief Sorcerer Goblin), a nice and very old fellow named Gorian, had the right to enter this part without express invitation. All the men hoped to be invited once to be selected as mate by one of the few in the short population of women. Every single male had to serve in the army for ten years before being allowed to do any other work (usually go to Gringotts). To Harry it felt like an awfully long time; until he learned that Griphook, a relatively young goblin was sixty-seven years old.

The first days had been great for Harry. He had explored the whole town. He had found the shopping center, that is to say the only five shops goblins ever used. The blacksmith, Klag, who sold all kind of weapons and armor; the Potion store, the Food center, the Clothing company and last but not least the Convenience. Convenience sold Newspapers, parchment, quills, ink, pets and provided Post owl.

Harry had been glad to find the Clothing company. He liked being a wizard and all, but he had to confess he preferred pants to robes. He didn't have anything against robes, it's just that he didn't like to have his 'privates' stroked by the wind… Furthermore, he felt it lacked style. He had asked for tailor made pants (he could hardly wear Globin's…) and had his robes open in the middle. They now looked like a cloak, except they were tighter and closer to the body.

Convenience had also been a source of both satisfaction and dissatisfaction. He had tried to buy a new owl, but none had pleased him. He resigned himself to go at the Magical Zoo's auction two weeks later, hoping to find Hedwig or a replacement. He had taken a subscription to the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler. Every morning a young goblin, around ten or twelve years old, would come and deliver them. Harry gave him a Knut every time for his efforts; it seemed to please the kid a lot; why, Harry didn't have a clue until Griphook explained it to him.

"Your payment is a way of showing he has a valor Harry. A kid this age doesn't make a Sickle a week with around twenty deliveries a day. By giving him that much money you increase his status among his friends and in his work. If you keep giving him a Knut a day instead of one a week or so, like the others do, in less than a month he won't deliver the Newspapers anymore but the weapons and will gain much more money and respect as we are a warrior society."

Harry didn't give a damn about the social status thing and continued paying every day; he even doubled the fees when he received good news. He had kept the Headlines concerning him and glued them in a journal he had found in his bottom-less bag. The titles were always interesting.

SAVIOR IN DIAGON ALLEY! DEATH EATER ATTACK SQUASHED BY MYSTERIOUS MAN

What does the Ministry do? By Colin Creevey

MINISTRY WASTE EFFORTS AGAINST OUTSTANDING CITIZENS INSTEAD OF DEATH EATERS

The Ministry of Magic researches the man who squashed yesterday's attack. Fear of seeing someone better than them doing the right thing? By Susan Bones

THE BODY OF HARRY POTTER DISAPPEARES A BIT MORE EVERY HOUR!

Ministry hides the facts: Boy-Who-Lived is alive. By Luna Lovegood

AUROR FOUND GUILTY OF MURDER UNDER THE EFFECT OF IMPERIUS CURSE

It has been discovered that a fellow classmate was responsible for the murder Harry Potter has been accused and convicted of. By Mathilda Ronston

Harry smiled sadly at the memories of these Headlines as they brought him back to his insomnias. He knew he had done what he should have but it didn't help him avoid the nightmares about the man he had killed. He didn't feel guilty per say but unconsciously he kind of did… He always 'saw' the guy in Diagon Alley before plunging his dagger into his throat and tearing it in shambles. He felt like he couldn't wash the blood away… In addition to that, when he was awake he had either very painful headaches or visions of fights.

Sighing, Harry made his way to the living room. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep anymore. He plunged himself in an armchair and took the TV remote control. He had been a bit surprised to see that goblins used a lot of Muggles' machines, but now he was glad. It gave him something to do when he couldn't sleep. Furthermore he had found a channel he liked to watch. SciFi aired good series he enjoyed. He switched a bit until he found it. It was a marathon for some show named FarScape.

He became engrossed in it. Apparently, it was the story of a guy named John Crichton, who, through a scientific experiment, found himself at the other side of the universe, accused of a murder he didn't commit. Sound familiar. He was in a totally different world he didn't know existed, where everybody felt like things were very simple whereas the guy spent twenty minutes to understand how to open a door… Still sound familiar. He had the armies of both sides in a war against him. Very familiar. He had no choice but to become a killer and a hero he didn't want to be. Hey! Did someone adapt my life in TV? He had no allies but a few people considered as trash because of their specie. Man, I love this show. Harry decided to name his dog D'Argo, after one of the hero's friends. One who represented honor, courage, strength and tenderness. Also it did help that this name had a resemblance to his nemesis' name: D'Argo, Draco… No worse insult than having your name (or one close to it) used for your enemy's pet.

"D'Argo?" Harry said. He heard a bit of noise behind him and his dog came to him.

"D'Argo?" Harry repeated. His dog licked his hand and Harry felt contentment and acceptation through the mental bond he shared with his familiar. He smiled at the feeling, hoping the link would increase and enable them, one day, to talk without words.

He took the remote control to lower the sound and… He was holding a tea cup, his love sat on the floor next to him, when he heard a commotion outside... Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on his respiration, counting until ten. When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the living room.

He took his dog on his laps and resumed watching the screen. A couple minutes later he had felt asleep for a few hours.

Harry didn't wake up until D'Argo jumped abruptly on the floor. It was daylight. Griphook was there, holding a tin with the dog's food.

"Problem sleeping?" the goblin asked as he settled the food on the floor.

"Yeah" Harry sighed. He tried to remember if he had any nightmare, but the only thing he heard was "Clear your mind". Like it made any cense… The only person to have ever told him that was Snape. Bloody Snivellus Snape. How come he dreamed of something the Death Eater had told him years ago when he was widening his link with Voldemort?

"I'll go get a shower" said Harry. Griphook nodded. "By the way, his name is D'Argo."

"Ah. You finally chose one. Any reason why this one?"

"Because it means strength, courage and tenderness; and at the same times it will probably pisses Malfoy, so…"

Griphook smirked at his friend's retreating form. Harry could be so mature, as his handling of Death Eaters had proved, and so immature, like the second reason of this name, at the same time. It was disconcerting to say the least.

..ooOoo..

Harry settled himself in a couch, the sun caressing his face. He closed his eyes hoping to get a bit more of sleep before breakfast. He knew he had time as Kilag, Griphook's father, tended to get up late. He was a very respected man among goblins. He had been chosen as a mate by three Galif… the majority of Goblins weren't even considered worthy enough to bed one Gali but the guy managed to get three. An exploit in goblin's standards…

Unfortunately for Harry, sleep, breakfast and lunch weren't part of his schedule. The second he closed his eyes, instead of the dark that grace common people he saw a pale blue area, like the sky, with nine black boxes floating in front of him. Startled, Harry opened his eyes. Everything was like it was a second earlier. He closed his eyes again, darkness great him. He heard the hated voice of his former Potion Master "Clear your mind". A bit puzzled he did exactly that, and gradually light appeared until he was back in the sky like place with the nine boxes. He tried to move but couldn't. He also noticed that with each attempted movement the light grew darker.

He relaxed and willed himself close to a box. Nothing happened. He tried harder. Still nothing; then a trunk (they were too big to be considered as simple boxes) moved toward him until it rested in front of him and opened itself. It revealed two containers that were filled with a grey/silver liquid. Harry hardly had the time to want to touch it than a strand of this liquid rose from both containers and connected to his forehead.

Pain. Unbelievable pain cursed through his veins, brains, heart, as the liquid entered his brow. The pain was everywhere. He screamed and screamed. Until his throat was too hoarse to do anything hurt. For days, minutes, centuries, hours, years, seconds he screamed. Then the truck disappeared and it stopped. He didn't know how long he remained like that before he had absorbed the whole liquid, and frankly he didn't care. He was just glad it was finished. He was going to open his eyes when he understood it wasn't over.

Everything in front of him changed, until he was in a circular room made of stone with an old woman sat in front of him. He didn't say anything as she started to talk with monotony.

"Occlumency is the art of organizing and shielding your mind against invasion. With the proper training, one is able to recognize an intrusion, stop it, direct it while hiding thoughts and memories, and even create fakes memories to indulge in error the attacker. Now in order to protect your mind…"

In a second, or a century, Harry was taught Occlumency. He was directed in building his mental shields, tested in his memory protection, in his fake ones building. He understood why it was often better to let people gain access to your mind and then to redirect and induce them in error than just keep them out. He assimilated how to recognize a threat, how to give lies the perfume of truth, how to attack one too deeply immersed in his thoughts and above all he learned how to use his connection to Voldemort, with minimum effort and without alerting the Dark Lord, he learned how to block him and, if he wanted, to control the body of this threat to life itself. In short, his mind was as well known to him as the back of his hand and as secure as possible: his walls were tied to his subconscious; nothing, short of death, could force him to drop his shields, even if he were to be tortured for days.

The old woman sat back and started to talk again.

"Legimency is the art of attacking and invading another mind. With the proper training, one is able to intrude in a mind, search for memories, knowledge the other have, even make the difference between lies and truths. One properly trained in the art can know with barely a glance what the enemy thinks and what the opponent will do before he even does it. Now in order to be able to gain access to another mind…"

In the blink of an eye, during the life and death of generations of humans, Harry learned how to delve into minds, how to foul shields, how to modulate his strength until he was discrete and powerful or obvious and weak. He was taught how to look for memories, how to interpret his findings, how to dissociate feelings to avoid overwhelming and detection. He was coached in making the distinction between Memory Charms and shields, how to pass through unbreakable vows without disrupting the magic in them, how to know just by hearing if someone lied, believed to lie, told the truth, had created fake memories to support their claim, been Obliviated. He learned to be the perfect mind rapist and only man who would never be fouled by his sixteen-year-old-daughter telling him she was just going to sleep at a friend's (not to her boyfriend's, come one dad!).

Tired, weak and at the same time stronger than he had ever been, Harry opened his eyes. He was back into his couch, D'Argo sleeping at his feet, a plate of sandwiches on a small table next to him with Bendog juice (a goblin specialty). It was Harry's favorite drink. It was sweet and silky yellow, like flavored milk, with an indescribable taste that had the particularity of becoming foul and dark green if anything was added to it, be it water, sugar or basilisk poison. A small note let him know he had been in the same state (whatever it was) for hours and had missed breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Smiling, Harry ate the sandwiches (roast beef and salad) while reviewing what he had learned in Hogwarts. He noticed his memories were much clearer and that he remembered every single lesson he attended (except those where he slept, namely History of Magic). He also discovered he had neglected lots of Charms and Transfiguration in his life. Who would have thought that McGonagall's first class could be used in battles? He wondered: transfiguring a piece of wood in a needle was so easy; applying a Multiply or a Banishing Charm wasn't hard either. So, with a toothpick and three Charms you could literally nail a guy to a door…

With a soft chuckle Harry finished his drink, lied down in the reclining chair and closed his eyes. Instantly he was back in the sky like place, eight trunks surrounding him. He willed one of the trunks to come to him. All of them came fast forward, narrowly missing to crush him. Whoa… Occlumency clearly helps to have a better focus. He concentrated on one specially that came slowly to rest in front of him. With a deep breath he 'mentally' open the lid. Harry just had the time to think the liquid is the same grey/silvery color before a strand rose and connected to his forehead (again).

No point in saying what happened next as even Harry's brain couldn't understand anything through the pain that coursed his body. When it dimmed Harry found himself back in the stone room, his 'classroom'. Another woman was sat in front of him. Like the previous one, she started talking in a monotonous voice.

"Runes magic is a very ancient and powerful art. The first wizards didn't have an understanding of magic good enough to use foci, therefore they had to write down their spells' effects with drawings. The principle of rune magic is to carve or write symbols. Their meanings are unchanging and eternal. A Master can create his owns by combining pre-existing runes but can't pass them to his apprentices: their creator have a connection with them, nobody else can understand their meaning without an extensive study which doesn't have any purpose as it requires more work that creating your own set. The basic of runes is…"

As generations of wizards lived and died, as countless war were carried, Harry sat and learned the fine art of runes magic. He was taught the basic sets, how to combine them, how to empower runes, how to set areas affected by a single runes. He was shown how to practically use them in fight or everyday life. He was pushed in understanding various Masters set, like Merlin's, Ravenclaw's and Mortis' (a Dark Lord of the fifth century who nearly conquered the globe) before creating his own set of runes. With one of them he could destroy a city or rise Atlantis from the sea (granted it required countless uninterrupted days to do it, but the point was: he could do it).

The second Harry had finished his own set of runes (based on war, no surprise there), he felt something pulling him. The 'classroom' melted in a black shape that rearranged itself in the 'departure' room, or at least it was the name Harry had given to the place where he felt like hanging in the sky with boxes full of knowledge around him.

Sighing and a bit afraid by the pain he knew would come, Harry willed a trunk close to him, then another and another, until all of them had opened and transferred their knowledge to him.

He was shown how select the right feathers, how to prepare a heartstring, which wood use, how to attune metal and stone. He was taught how to use blood, hair, teeth and bones, how to make a wand, staff, sword, dagger, etc, as a focus for magic, how to create the best match possible and how to have more than one component. He was educated in the fine art of foci crafting until he could easily best Ollivanders.

He was initiated to Wards, their principles and how they operated. He learnt how to tie one to focal stones, how to combine them, how to unable in-Apparition but stop out-Apparition. He was taught wards, regular ones, ancient ones, blood wards, dark wards and Dark ones (the former being forbidden by the Ministries, the latter being really Dark, as they had protection: from a simple energy barrier to death by slow combustion, or a Cruciatus Curse and total Obliviation.). The integrality of wards became a second nature to him. Proximity wards, recognition wards, etc.

He was educated in all the plants on Earth, even the ones exterminated, their use and properties. He was shown how to brew, the reason behind the use of certain cauldrons, of the stirring and the reaction between ingredients. He was taught every potion imaginable. He learned all the regular potions, from the simple healing ones to the Wolfsbane, the lost ones, from limb grower to eyes correction, and even the Dark Brewages, the Imperius potion, the bone remover, undetectable poison and more. In the blink of an eye, as generations of wizards graduated from Hogwarts, he became the more accomplished Potion Master to ever walk Earth.

He was taught (not shown, that's a private thing) Sex Magic: how to maintain an erection for years if need be, how to induce an orgasm (or ten), how to attract people and how to block Vela Charm. He had lessons on nervous system of the male and female body either Human, Elf, Dwarf, Vampire, Centaur, Goblin, House Elf and more. He knew how to stir the desire or how to repress it. He could make a man screaming of lust or render a woman unconscious of pleasure. He knew every single Contraceptive Charm, from a one-hour protection to life sterilization, for both sexes of all races. He became the accomplished lover without even having sex once.

He was shown how to Slide, how to make himself inconspicuous, how to 'feel' Wards and bypass them. He was taught the relation and differences between Sliding and Apparition. He learnt to be able to Slide while eating, fighting, sleeping, even being tortured. He honed this skill until he could escape bullets (everything is good for magical training! Even muggle technology has its uses…)

He was transferred in other bodies and witnessed wars. He was Arctus the Warrior Mage, a lone mercenary in the Middle Ages, a goblin during one of the revolts, an Elf during the Last War, a GI in Normandy, a Roman legionnaire conquering Spain, a Russian peasant attacking the Tsar's castle. He was Salazaar Slytherin fighting Godric Gryffindor (he lost…), he was Master Vampire Brad during an attack on a renegades' Covent, he was an elf child as his mansion was attacked by blood thirsty wizards, he was a wizard attacked by four Vampires in a forest. He was a teenager caught doing magic and burned by the town people (luckily the guy knew the Flam Freezing Charm and how to Apparate), he was a muggle tortured by the Dark Lord Scorpius, he was a Centaur killing intruders, he was a Death Eater raping a young (and pretty) muggle…

He saw and experienced the best and worst of humanity in times of war, be it from the point of view of one side (or the other), the victims or another race. He studied Battle tactics, traps, use of spies, etc. He was shown why 'he' won or lost battles, how to avoid being hit in the back, how to recognize threats, to know when a battle was lost and retreat, how to use people spying on him, the benefit of using portkeys (not a great deal as he didn't know how to make one, but still…). He understood the benefit of treating his soldiers and allies as if they were his children, why he should always keep some strength and abilities hidden and also why he shouldn't leave any enemy alive but to instill fear in the opponent's ranks. But above all he was taught (and that was drilled in his head) not to hesitated to strike, to kill and maim without remorse, to always keep a mental map of his enemies position, to use Legimency and Occlumency when dueling and to never never leave an ally on the battlefield.

Finally he was back at the 'departure room'. One single trunk, twice the size of the others was there waiting for him. Harry knew what was in it: Sword knowledge. He was excited about it but… well… lets say that nobody likes to jump in front of a Cruciatus just for fun. Harry wasn't different and the pain ahead didn't really appeal to him. He decided to take a break.

Opening his eyes he noticed the light had dimmed. Already sunset? I didn't realize it took so long… he thought. D'Argo was settled on his torso looking at him. No wonder I had difficulties to breath during the Battle Knowledge course…

"Hey D'Argo. You know, daddy loves you very much but could you just bugger off? Hmph" Harry said as he 'directed' (meaning dropped) his dog on the floor.

"You know D'Argo, you are getting bigger. The timed aging effect must be working. Lets go to bed" He said as he got up.

"Up already?" a voice asked behind him.

Spinning like lighting, his wand targeted toward the voice Harry came face to face with Griphook who quickly held his hand in the air.

"Hey! What's the matter?" the goblin snarled.

"Sorry…" Harry answered a bit sheepish "A bit dodgy, you know, Azkaban, training, stuffs like that…"

"What ever… So, D'Argo didn't let you sleep? I know he is a growing dog but still… I mean you were still there when I went to bed and you're up before me…"

"Hmm… I'm not sure I follow you Griphook… What time is it?"

"Well it's seven in the morning, as if you didn't know the time of the day…"

"As a matter of fact, I don't. I though it was sunset…" Harry answered scratching his head (meaning 'I'm really confused, what's going on?")

"Err… No, it's sunrise… You mean to tell me you've spent the whole night on the terrace with your dog!"

"Hmm… Well, it's not like I… Ok, I did. Happy now?" Harry responded, hesitantly at first and with a bit of irritation in the end.

"I'll be happy when you'll feed your dog, make sure he had a walk in the garden and go to sleep 'till lunch time. Then I'll be happy." Griphook growled as Harry made his way to the kitchen and started unpacking some raw meat.

"I remind you we are supposed to go to the auctions at the Zoo in two days. If you want to be dead on your feet because you lack sleep, fine by me, but don't you dare be in a foul mood if that happens!"

"It's ok. Don't worry about it, just make sure we're there at least an hour before the sales start. I want to have seats in the front, just in case there is a pull from some animal." Harry replied, suppressing a yawn.

He put the food on the floor and said "I'll grap a shower before sleeping. And don't bugger me with D'Argo soiling your carpet. It never happened and he was trained in three days… Thus it will never happen! Off my back then!"

As he took a towel and went into the bathroom, Harry heard Griphook murmuring "Yah yah yah, and my dog is a cross with phoenix and griffins, and he is very clever, and you won't find one better than him, and he is very strong, and he is very loyal, and he is very nice, and yah yah yah…"

In a few minutes Harry was cleaned, dried and in his bed. He just had time to see D'Argo jumping at his feet before he felt asleep.

I'm very sorry I took so long to update (I really am!). I promise I'll be good and do it more often. To be forgiven I'll try to post chapter 7 in a week or so.

I hope you didn't find the chapter's title too lousy, I didn't want to put something like 'Answers from the past', but at the same time keeping the idea of some answers (the murder, the visions) all coming from somehing that happened in the past... Please! Don't be mad at me! puppy eyes... ;-)

The dog (D'Argo then as I didn't have many propositions and couldn't think of anything) is just an experiment from the 'mad scientist'. It's not a kind of magical animal like the runespoor or the basilisk.

Next chapter will be about Ginny (a bit), the auction, swords and more...

Please continue to review.

Thanks.