~Small author note. I'm sorry for the long wait between posts. Life caught up to me, I'm afraid, but most everything is back to normal. You can probably still expect slow updates, maybe a chapter a month, but I might be quicker depending on available time. Thank you for your patience!
The next afternoon brought Harry to the foot of the stairs once more, about to ascend to the Headmaster's office. Hedwig had brought him a note from his new mentor this morning at breakfast. Professor Dumbledore had asked Harry to meet him for afternoon tea, saying that he would explain more when they met. A jovial "Come in, my boy!" greeted him, and grinning lightly, Harry eased the door open and walked in.
"You wanted to see me professor?"
"Yes, Harry. I wished to give you a final demonstration before you go home for the summer. A demonstration of what you can do at the height of your skills. If you'd kindly grab my hand, Fawkes will transport us to the grounds, where I will endeavor to start your instruction in a skill I like to call Magical Repulsion." Albus said, winking at the young boy before both vanished in a swirl of flame and phoenix song.
Both humans and Fawkes reappeared an instant later on the Quidditch Pitch, the wooden stands and hoops towering over them. Albus looked around, and seeing no student activity, smiled.
"Harry, I'm going to set up some privacy charms, so no one stumbles upon what I'm about to show you, and injure themselves. Firstly, I'll set up some Notice-Me-Not wards, which, as the name aptly suggests, makes one not keyed, or spelled into the ward, ignore it." Albus swept his wand from his sleeve, and began gesturing, sparks erupting from the tip, forming a large cage around them that glowed, then became invisible. To any other, this would be a sight to see. Harry Potter, however, was following the process of the wand like a hawk his dinner. Once more, drums reverberated in his mind, bass drums frantically calling a muster to arms. His vision changed to black and white abruptly, but he noticed not. The wand was a highly contrasted black and white swirl, formed into a thin cylinder. The Headmaster was white around the edges, and shades of gray below that. The world around and behind him was an indistinct mass of black paint varying in depth. The wand flashed, and a string of what looked like hair glowed in the middle of the wand. So bright was the glow, it outshone the sun, and Harry was forced to look away. Like a train crash, he couldn't refrain from looking at the wand again, and the drums stopped; the conductor of the percussion section having cut them off. There was a roaring of thousands of voices screaming at once, rage upon the wind, and the sizzle of energy vibrated the very air. Harry shivered, and squeezed his eyes shut. The voices vanished. Drums. Drums in the deep... The world returned to color in a blinding flash, and he gasped. Albus Dumbledore smiled kindly at Harry, and held out the wand.
"Harry, would you like to look closer? I do believe that you can safely handle this particular wand, Harry. This one, and this one only. Alas, it shan't bite, I think!" Albus laughed, his blue eyes twinkling merrily.
The messy haired boy reached a shaking left hand out, and he touched the handle of the wand gingerly, grabbing it between three fingers. He breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened, and gripped it fully in his hand, as he would with his old wand. The world vanished in a swirl of shadows, and he felt himself rocketing into the sky, though he couldn't see any light. He stopped moving suddenly, and collapsed to his knees. He groaned, holding his stomach in pain. When he finished being sick, he raised his head, wiping his mouth with his right sleeve.
A tall, regal man strode forward, shiny black hair falling in long waves around his aristocratic face, his eyes a warm gold. His black robes partially hid a muscular chest, the silver trimmed fasteners hinted at wealth. "Young heir, my name is Cadmus Peverell. Well met, young friend. The Mark of the Hallows is upon you, young one. You are destined for great things, great things indeed."
"Mark? I don't have a mark, sir, except for this." Harry pointed at the scar on his forehead.
"No, young heir, the mark on your left palm."
Harry turned his hand over, and to his shock, there was a jagged triangle containing a equally jagged circle, a circle that had a straight (in relative terms) stick bisecting it. The mark pulsed once, and the triangle glowed white hot, as did the stick. The circle turned black, and the mark grew still and cool.
"Young Peverell heir, it is time to return to the waking world. That wand, The Deathstick, shall serve you well. Shall she treat you fairly." There was a bone rattling thrum of power, and Harry faced his mentor once more, shock etched into his face. Harry closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, he got the silliest notion! He waved the wand of his ancestors, and sparks fell slowly, like glistening teardrops.
"Hark to me, child. Throw thine arms open wide, and let Nature's Magique greet thee." A sibilant voice whispered in his ear like a best friend would. He paused, but ultimately did exactly as asked to. A shimmering globe of silver exploded outwards, and suddenly he could see the blades of grass across the pitch in perfect detail. He could count spot the wood grain on the opposite Keeper's Rings, and he could feel something in the wind that he'd never felt before. He turned his eyes to his mentor, and was shocked at the beaming smile on his face.
"Don't worry, Harry. I fully expected to give you the wand today. I noticed how it drew your attention yesterday, so retrieved my old wand from my vault last night. Now that another heirloom has been returned to the Potters, let's get to the lesson." Albus pulled his wand from within the folds of his robes, and continued casting protections around himself and his lone pupil. "Harry, please step behind me. This will be much to dangerous to throw in your direction. Please find a good angle, so that you may see as I'm doing, but may not catch any stray energy."
"Okay Professor. I'll let you know when I'm ready."
The old man waited patiently, finally hearing Harry's voice saying that he was safe. "Harry, you must pay attention to what you feel as well as what you see."
Albus Dumbledore closed his eyes to the world, letting his arms hang loosely at his sides. He felt his magic begin flowing through his veins once more, burning like a river of molten rock. His breathing slowed, and his hair began to dance in a slight breeze. As one, both blue eyes snapped open, and the wind became a shrieking squall of gale force proportions. He touched his right hand to his left shoulder, and his left hand to his right, before flinging his arms to their full span. A roar tore from his throat, the ankle high grass of the pitch flattening itself against the ground in an ever expanding circle. The keeper's rings shattered, slivers of hardened wood whistling as darts. The stands that normally housed students during games began to creak, the support poles swaying dangerously. The ground around his feet began turning an angry red, grass lifting itself from the roots, as if trying to flee the might of the wizard upon it. The bare dirt splintered as though it hadn't seen rain in months, the circle of razed earth expanding at a modest pace. Albus Dumbledore felt himself lift from the ground as the wind picked up in speed, the noise approaching that of the large armies of German tanks he had encountered in the Great War. A last groan of protest came from the stands, and they too were wrenched from all earthly restraints. Bright blue eyes closed to the world once more, and his magic rested once more. The wind became but a breeze, and his feet kissed the ground. Slowly, he opened this eyes once more, and began repairing what he damage he had wrought. In the back of his mind, he could feel the wards he had placed failing one by one, having taken too much damage themselves. He shook his head mournfully. So much destruction! Whatever his misgivings, he knew this was a valuable lesson for his protege, a lesson of what his magic could do if he wasn't careful. One last repairing charm (not the simple reparo taught by Filius), but a charm he hadn't learned until he'd completed his own Charms Mastery. He went through the complex wand waving required silently, letting his focus return once more. A wide eyed Harry stepped next to him, and rubbed his eyes as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"Harry, what you just saw was very dangerous. You may attempt to do as I just did now, under my supervision. I don't want you trying this brand of magic unless I'm here. Do you understand?" Albus stared at him over his half-moon spectacles, and Harry once more felt like a naughty first year.
"Yes, Professor. You have my word."
"That, Harry, reassures this old man like you wouldn't believe. Now, seeing as this magic can't truly be taught, per se, no wand motions or words to learn, I would like you to stand in the same position as I did, and feel your magic, Harry. That is truly the only instruction I can give on this." The Headmaster restored the wards on the pitch, and gave Harry the go ahead. He stepped behind Harry, and to the side as the young wizard did when he demonstrated.
Harry Potter began his exercises, feeling a little intimidated by his mentor's demonstration of power. He didn't even complete one cycle in his first exercise, before his vision shifted to black and white again. Instead of seeing his ancestor this time, he saw a man striding purposefully to the Forbidden forest. Harry followed quietly, knowing this to be important. A shimmering field seemed to distort the mans image at the edges. The black haired man stopped, and pulled out a small golden object. "I'm about to die." The man said to the object. It clicked open, and a small black stone fell into his hand. Once more, Harry heard a bass drum mustering unseen troops to battle. There was a sharp pain in his hand, and Harry shook it absently. He glanced at it quickly, and saw the mark burning brightly. He looked back at the scene in front of him, filing away the sensation in the mark for later. Harry crept closer, seeing for the first time that the man's hair appeared to be very messy, and sticking up at all angles. He inhaled sharply, and moved closer still. The man in front of him turned his hand three times, and some very familiar figures appeared in front of him. "Mum, Dad, Sirius. You didn't need to die. Remus, Tonks, especially you. You had just found each other. It's all my fault." "Shh, Harry, it's okay. We're so very proud of you, and what you've done. We love you, Harry. We'll be waiting for you always." "But I have to die Mum. I have to die to end this." "I know. We'll be with you the whole way to him. You are so close, Harry. We love you, we all do."
"Thanks." The visibly choked up man said. His unseen observer gasped, That was him! In the future! Seeing Sirius and Remus with his parents could only mean one thing. Sirius and Remus had died. A sob escaped his throat, and he didn't want to see anymore. He lost all feeling, and a raw howl of rage tore from his throat. Hot flames danced in front of his line of sight, but he saw nothing but his own personal Hell. He would be alone again. Once more, his family would leave him for the Elysian Fields, and he could do naught. His arms raised high, as if he was conducting an orchestra. They widened as if he was offering a hug to the world before him, and the flames became a shrieking concerto, burning so hot that the tears he cried evaporated on his face. The winds whipped the tongues of flame about as if they were but rag dolls, and Harry strode forward into the inferno. The flames parted for him, forming a path around their creator. Bloodshot eyes closed to the world, and he just wanted to join his family. Why was this being denied to him? Why was Fate mocking him? Anger clouded all but the grief that shrouded his mind.
"You will take no more from me!" The words ripped from his mouth, his throat cracking from the amount of magic leaving him with his shout. The flames danced even higher, the furnace blazing much hotter around him. The wand in his hand was trembling with what he could feel was waves of pleasure, thrilled at the power its rightful Master could marshal. He shivered, and the flames wrapped tighter around him, the path narrowing. His eyes closed once more, savoring the coming contact with his family, when a piercing shriek shattered his thoughts like a glass pane. The flames parted before him, and his shocked eyes saw a vision of sparking emerald eyes, and a flash of the most beautiful auburn color he'd ever seen, before Hedwig filled his vision. There was anger in her green eyes, and a shrill bark later had him wincing. Her nip almost tore his ear off! He opened his mouth to speak, but her shrill bark made him close his mouth again.
He collected himself, and scratched his owl at the base of her head."You're right, girl. I was being stupid, I'm sorry." He closed his eyes, and the flames vanished, the vision greeting his eye once he opened them made him cold. Nothing remained of the pitch but a glass bowl, only depressed where he was standing. The glass covered the Pitch, where the stands had stood, and almost all the way to the broom shed. His mentor had Fawkes on his left shoulder, keeping a shield up until he was sure there would be no more fire. He advanced slowly, his wand not leaving his hand.
"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?"
"I am now, Professor. I just lost my senses for a minute. I'm sorry for all this destruction. I'll pay for everything."
"Mr. Potter, that is a very powerful wand in your hand, perhaps I shall teach you some building charms and tranfigurations? Mr. Potter, I'll not make you pay a dime for any of this. I am more concerned for your health. Are you sure, my boy, that you are alright? Madam Pomfrey would have my head, and my beard, too!" His twinkling eyes showed a deep concern, and Harry nodded slowly.
"Hedwig brought me back to my senses, sir. She really is a brilliant owl. Can post owls sense when their owner feels...erm, upset?" He watched as the Headmaster's blue eyes landed on the Snowy Owl on Harry's shoulder. His soul searching gaze narrowed.
"No, I'm afraid they don't. Where did you purchase her?"
"Erm, Hagrid bought her for me in Diagon Alley, for my birthday the first time I went. What's wrong with her Professor?"
"That's not an Owl, Harry." At his charge's puzzled look, Albus softened, just a hair. "An owl in appearance, but appearances can be deceiving."
"Like Pettigrew?" Harry spat the name as if it was a curse.
"Yes, but not similar all the same. Hedwig, please come closer, so that I may see you better." Albus Dumbledore said to her. Hedwig cocked her head to the side, not seeing how she could get closer. A perch appeared in front of him, and with a flap of her wings, she landed on the perch and looked at the old man with unblinking, emerald eyes.