A/N: Hello everybody! *ducks thrown objects* You know how you can have days where it's just not worth getting out of bed? Yeah, I had two months like that. Sorry, so sorry for the lateness, but RL reared its ugly face at the most inopportune of times.
I didn't really have warm and fuzzies about this chapter but I felt bad about the wait so DON'T JUDGE ME! T^T
Okay this chapter is dedicated to Gravind Divine, who will give me my cookie and stop threatening me with a pitchfork. Please don't cry, I know you do it out of love.
Disclaimer: I am not the owner of Harry Potter in this universe. In my universe sure, but unless you look outside and see my Legions of Terror patrolling the streets, this is not that universe. Sad, I know. I adopted the idea for this story from PlotBunny2010.
Speech= "blah"
Thoughts= blah
Written= {blah}
Parseltongue= :blah:
A/N= blah
Chapter 6: Spartan Methods
Tom? Harry called quietly, Tom, can I ask you something?
You already have, a voice responded dryly,back in Harry's head again almost 24/7 without explanation for his sudden disappearance a week ago. Not that an explanation hadn't been demanded of him of course, more like he was pretending that it had never happened.
Something else? Harry tried, frustrated.
And there it goes.
Aw, c'mon! I just want to ask you about this stupid book, you know, with your amazing genius abilities you brag about all the time.
I do not brag, the last word was laced with disgust, and I don't recall ever uttering the phrase, 'amazing genius abilities,' to you.
Well good for you, Harry said, sitting up on what he still thought of as Dudley's bed. He was surrounded by piles of books, some resting open on their spines, others stacked precariously on the floor, and still more scattered around on top if the bedspread.
But according to this, he waved Magical Theory around in the air for emphasis, I'm in trouble.
You usually are but what reason in particular this time?
Harry sighed and dropped the book, rubbing his eyes.
All it talks about are spells, which is good I suppose, but it states here that you have to speak them out loud with a special pronunciation for them to work, sort of like a direct focus for magical energy.
He blinked and shook his head. I just sounded crazy didn't I?
Of course it does, said Tom, completely ignoring his last statement, that thing, thing apparently referring to the book in question, is so basic that all it would have are verbal spells. I abhor the educational standards these days.
So there are non… verbal spells? He spoke hesitantly, ignoring Tom almost as neatly as he ignored Harry.
Naturally, idiot.
No need to be insulting, Harry said mildly, can you tell me about them? He waited a beat. Please?
Since you asked nicely.
Harry could feel a tick going over his right eye.
Nonverbal spells are commonly used to gain an advantage over an opponent once verbal spells have been mastered or partially mastered at least because they are substantially more difficult to learn. I knew about them in my third year but the teachers didn't cover it in classes until fifth year. You will have to learn to utilize them properly immediately.
And how much harder are they to use than normal ones?
It will be substantially easier for you to learn since your mind is exercised almost daily, but it will still be challenging at first. You need a large amount of focus and control, something you significantly lack; however, once you start practicing they'll come as easy as thinking about it.
It did not escape Harry's attention that Tom had avoided answering the question. He groaned silently. This is impossible.
No it is not. You protested that learning Occlumency and Legilimency was, as you put it, 'absolutely totally completely insane.' This will be easy compared to the pitiful attempts you were making at that.
Harry sputtered incoherently, outraged. That's because you were practically molesting my mind until I agreed to learn!
As I remember it didn't take very long for you to give in.
And after that you were harassing me every damn day – Harry carried on, approaching a full on rant.
Enough. Tom sounded amused rather than irritated which didn't do much in the way of calming Harry down. We start practice now.
What, but - ?
Now. Put that useless book on the floor.
Harry groped for the book and gently placed it next to the bed on the floor. Maybe it would shut him up.
Good, focus all of your attention on the book.
Right. Focused.
Repeat after me, Wingardium Leviosa.
…Are you serious?
Repeat. The words. Tom did not sound pleased.
Fine. Wingardium Leviosa.
There was no visible change to the book.
Do it again.
Wingardium Leviosa. Harry waited. I feel ridiculous.
Again.
Wingardium Leviosa. Nothing. Should I be using the stick for this?
Stic- ? No, you must learn basic spells without the aid of a wand. Not a stick, refer to it as a wand from now on. Again.
So you're telling me to ride a bike for the first time without training wheels? How does that make sense?
Just do it! Harry had finally pushed Tom to anger. He felt a vague sense of satisfaction.
Okay, okay. Wingardium Leviosa. Harry stared at the stupid thing willing it to do something. Twitch, turn red, spontaneously combust, anything but just lying there mocking him in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Tom.
What is this supposed to do actually?
Agai–
I know, alright already, geez. Harry was now eyeing the book with every gram of loathing he'd built up in the hours he'd spent reading it.
Wingardium Leviosa!
The book rippled under his gaze and then slowly, slowly began to rise. It was up at bed level in seconds then at an incredulous Harry's eye level, then even higher still.
Harry blinked as it approached the ceiling.
How high is it going to - ?
Careful.
The spell broke and the book plummeted toward the ground only to be snatched out of the air before it could slam on the floor and alert the Dursleys.
The-the book, Harry stuttered, how?
Magic. A pause. Obviously.
You have to insult my intelligence, don't you? Even when I do things right.
It took that many tries to achieve such a basic spell. Shameful. When you can lift and lower it three times in succession you can stop. Now, do it again.
Seriously?
Hurry it up, I haven't got all night.
Ugh, Wingardium Leviosa!
XXXXXXXXXX
Harry cracked open his eyes the next morning wondering why the light was so bright and who he should file a letter of complaint to in order to get it turned off at sensible hours like – he opened his eyes further to see that it was not, as he feared, unholy sunlight but his ceiling light. A glance at the window told Harry it was still early. Too early.
Harry sat up rubbing the spots out his eyes. He must have passed out with the lights still on sometime during Tom's Spartan-style teaching.
Tom had not been satisfied with Harry lifting and lowering the book, oh no. After that had come sideways, loop de loops, and then, to top it all off, multiple levitations at once; which was most certainly more difficult than Tom had let on. Harry had been restacking books in mid air for hours until Tom had deemed him, "passable."
It must have been shortly after that Harry fell asleep because he couldn't remember any more. He squinted and the windows and sighed. It was probably time he ought to start breakfast anyways.
After his return from Diagon Alley, his life had improved in many ways but still fundamentally remained the same in many ways. For one, Dudley was now so sacred of Harry he had developed a tendency of screaming and running from the room whenever Harry walked in. It was all very gratifying after all the unpleasantness he'd had to deal with in the past.
The Dursleys had also changed their attitudes, a little. They were now treating any space he happened to occupy like it was empty, but still expected him to cook all their meals and clean the house. In addition, they were making him taste everything he served them in case of poison, though with what he hadn't the slightest idea; glass cleaner maybe.
They were almost laughably afraid of Sanajeh. The first time they'd seen him outside his basket, he was slithering along the wall of their master bedroom. Aunt Petunia had screamed loud enough to wake the dead, along with Harry from a light sleep. Harry had jolted out of bed looking for an intruder in time to hear Uncle Vernon bellow as he tripped over his feet in his haste to get to a newly purchased gun.
By the time they had regained some semblance of sense, Sanajeh was safely back in the smallest bedroom being admonished through a fit of silent giggles.
You could have been shot!
:Would not have causssed much damage:
Harry was briefly sidetracked, were ancient snakes bulletproof? Or just the magic ones? Shaking his head he tried to focus on the main problem.
What were you thinking? Harry demanded.
:I wasss going to eliminate the large humans and sssecure Massster lodgingsss more sssuficient for hisss ssstation:
Harry found this highly amusing but still tried to reinforce that biting people was a bad idea.
:Why isss bad? Isss helping Massster:
Yeah, and I really appreciate it, but you can't do that kind of thing here. People will come and take you away, and probably me too. They'll lock us up in a cage for a long time.
:Like the place I dedicated myssself to Massster's ssservice?:
Exactly! Harry was pleased that he'd finally gotten the point across.
:Eliminate thossse people too:
Or maybe not.
Listen, you just can't go around biting people on a daily basis, Harry sighed, reduced to repetition, unless it's a life threatening emergency, he stressed.
:Place of lodging not emergency?:
Not a life threatening one, no.
The snake pondered this notion for a moment.
:If isss Massster's wish, Sanajeh will not bite mortalsss:
Yes, thank you, Harry sighed with relief.
:Unless emergency: Sanajeh added slyly.
Ugh, Harry groaned, giving up. Sure.
And that was pretty much the end of that, though now the stubborn cobra was required to stay in Harry's room at all times. Harry had the distinct feeling that his wishes were not being carried out, however, as Sanajeh kept showing up with oddly shaped lumps and refused to eat any of the packaged food Harry tried to sneak to him.
Harry smiled ruefully and shook his head at his troublesome pet as he crept down the stairs, wincing at every creak. The yelling when he woke Uncle Vernon early was almost as bad as when the food wasn't ready when they did get up.
Just let the snake kill them and be done with it.
Yes, thank you for the advice, Harry said sarcastically, opening the door to the kitchen and flipping on the lights, but did you fail to witness the conversation I had to stop the snake from biting them?
He set the stove and started rummaging in the fridge for available ingredients.
A complete waste of time.
Has anyone ever told you that you're just a little too bloodthirsty? Harry cracked several eggs on the edge of the pan.
None have dared.
Well maybe there's a reason for that, Harry said as he placed strips of bacon beside the eggs.
There was; I was fearsome and terror inspiring.
Really? Harry started the toast and got out the butter to soften, while sizzling sounds emitted from the pan and a delicious smell filled the air.
Don't get smart with me.
Lighten up. From upstairs came steady thuds as either Uncle Vernon or Dudley shuffled toward and down the stairs.
Harry very carefully kept his attention focused on the pan on the stove as he heard the door open behind him.
I wonder if they can sense food even when unconscious. It was an idle thought.
More than likely.
That was a private thought, you know.
Then you should have taken measures to keep it such.
A summon of "Boy!" turned Harry to see Uncle Vernon seated at the kitchen table.
"Bring food," was ordered while subtly inching toward the side of the table furthest away from Harry.
Harry sighed, business as usual, and went about setting the table. By the time he was forking bacon and eggs onto plates, Aunt Petunia and Dudley had arrived in the kitchen, though Dudley was attempting to hide behind his mother, a feat made difficult by the fact that he was four times wider than her.
Harry sat down to eat his meager portion, but one bite in he was called past the invisible barrier that separated him and the Dursleys to taste test. He handily ignored the way Dudley flinched as he came near to take a small bite of eggs and nibble on the bacon.
Mmm, delicious if I do say so myself. Could use a bit of salt.
How idiotic.
Must you always – oh crap.
Going back around to his chair, Harry had accidentally brushed against Dudley's arm causing him to squeal, leap from his seat, and sprint for the door quickly followed by Petunia.
"Mom! MOM! He's touched me! What if I get infected?" came howling from the hall.
"Calm down Diddykins, you'll be okay, we just need to wash it off," she sounded slightly panicked, "maybe take a whole shower to decontaminate you," her voice faded as they moved to the lavoratory.
Do you think that was maybe just a tad dramatic? I don't think I've ever seen him move that fast.
Disgusting creature.
Yep, that might've gone better. A pause. Magic isn't contagious, is it?
Apparently, muggle stupidity is.
I'll take that as a no.
You do that.
Always so supportive.
Uncle Vernon was staring at him with a mixture of wariness and horror, almost like he was waiting to see how Harry would react.
I don't suppose this would be a good time to ask for a favor, Harry thought glumly.
So it does learn.
Quiet you.
Matching his uncle stare for stare, Harry sat down, shoveled in his eggs, washed his dishes and, still expecting an explosion, made for his room.
I think it'll be safe to come down in a few days.
Coward.
Hey, you don't have to deal with them. I suppose that just had to happen now, Harry sighed, starting to pace. I have the worst luck.
Ignore them, they are ignorant lesser beings.
But I need them to give me a ride to the station! Harry fought down panic, I can't just 'magic' my way to King's Cross.
That would be debatable.
Harry paused halfway across the room. You mean I can?
Magic yourself there, as you so crassly put it, no. How far have you read in Hogwarts: A History? It was one of several additional books Tom had told him to buy.
Why do you ask? Harry said defensively, a little thrown by the sudden topic change.
How. Far. the words were clipped.
Umm, Harry stalled for time, I haven't exactly…started? he made it a question.
There were several seconds of disgusted silence, and then –
I have business to attend to. I will return in two hours by which time I expect you to be halfway done.
Wha– ? Tom, that's not fair! That's got to be a thousand pages, at least. Its imposs-
Tom had already gone.
Bugger. Harry cursed mildly, before diving for the book and flipping the dark brown cover open. He scanned pages at an almost frantic rate.
Thirty minutes later, Dudley had stopped crying and was tentatively inching his way out of the master bathroom with his mother right behind him. Harry barely heard him thudding down the stairs to the kitchen to finish his breakfast.
Forty five minutes later and Dudley was whining at the top of his lungs that he was hungry and needed more food. Harry failed to notice him at all this time.
One hour later and Harry was completely immersed in the world of words, seeing hidden passageways and moving staircases.
One and a half hours later, Harry was past the legends, myths, and rumors, and moving into the more technical details. Some meanings of words escaped him, but he still forged on alternatively fascinated by the complexity of it all and bored by short biographies of some such person.
Two hours later found Harry impatiently riffling through the gray stamp book. Admittedly, it was rather shocking when it swelled into a tome the size of an average gravestone, but Harry had gotten over it. He had been putting off reading it after a glance at its pompous title, The Rigid and Impeccable Rules of Which our Society's Order and Decorum Depends, by Alphonse Binderpaboxy, had sent shudders of disgust down his spine.
When he had questioned Tom's sanity in wanting this, the only reply he received was, You must know the laws to the letter if you desire to escape their grasp.
Harry huffed irritably at the memory as he paged to the impressively large chapter that had to do with underage magic.
Tom made his presence known right on time. And?
I only got 274 pages done but I think I know what you're getting at anyways, Harry said, attention fixed on the passages of tiny text.
Oh?
Apparition, Harry said confidently, but you do realize that I'll get caught by this 'Trace' as soon as I try, right?
How many times did you practice the levitation spell yesterday?
Harry snorted with quiet disdain. About a hundred more times than I'd have liked.
Yet no members of the Ministry have arrived at your doorstep. How could this be?
Harry paused. It had honestly slipped his mind that yesterday was a deliberate act of magic. It had been wandless but the Trace should still have picked up on it.
Was it because I didn't use a wand?
No. Tom managed to sound exasperated and insulting at the same time, and if you had finished to book I told you to read, then you would know that the Trace is activated only once a magical child has passed through the gates of Hogwarts.
I, Harryscratched his head ruefully, hadn't gotten that far.
Clearly.
But, he persevered, apparition is supposed to be dangerous. That's why you have to be seventeen to take the test to do it, because you could accidentally splinch, Harrystumbled over the unfamiliar word, yourself and bleed to death.
The level of gravity they add to the whole affair is ridiculous. It is nothing more than a different type of wandless nonverbal magic. Nothing to be concerned about.
The thing we're already doing?
Yes, apparition is commonly thought to be difficult to learn because lesser wizards rarely bother to practice types of magic other than the basic wand swishing and yelling at the top of their lungs. Speaking of practice, we are moving on from levitation to more complicated spells. We'll start with Alohamora, the unlocking spell, and the featherweight charm.
Harry groaned at the thought of yet more work but nodded in weary resignation.
Will this do? Harry picked up a dark wooden box with a blindingly bright golden lock on the lid. Dudley had lost the key and after several attempts at smashing it open, abandoned it under his bed until Harry moved in and unearthed it.
No I don't think so, Tom sounded like he was looking forward to some nasty idea that Harry would no doubt be a part of, but I believe that your previous room of residence will serve nicely.
You're joking.
I've always found that some people need a little more encouragement to accomplish certain tasks. Go to it.
Unbelievable.
Nonetheless, Harry trooped miserably down the stairs to crawl into his cupboard and shut the door behind him. A thought struck him that, with the right delivery, could get him out of this madness.
The door locks from the outside, so this is futile. I might as well go back upstairs and work at that box.
Wait for it.
A click as Vernon Dursley walked by and Harry was locked in the dark with a concrete floor and a colony of spiders for company.
Vernon called over his shoulder, "If you think that you need to be punished far be it from me to stop you," he slowly wheezed up the protesting stairs, "freak."
You knew that would happen, Harry accused.
I may have had a suspicion. Now, the incantation is Alohamora. The faster you get it, the sooner you can get out.
Is this what you meant by encouragement? It's an ultimatum!
So it is, Tom conceded, I'll be back in half an hour. If you haven't managed it by then there will be consequences, and swept off to do his mysterious business.
What the hell are you doing? Tom? he got no reply. Git.
Pushing away his concern – no, not concern, curiosity – about whatever Tom was off doing. Harry tried to concentrate on the lock that had held firm for the past eleven years of his life.
He placed a hand against the faded paint, took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Alohamora.
XXXXXXXXXX
Twenty minutes later there was a faint click as the dead bolt slid over and Harry pushed the door open.
Seeing as he was technically early he snuck back upstairs and closed the door softly, and since he was still curious about the contents of the box, he retrieved it from the bed and tapped it lightly. The lock sprang open and fell to the floor.
Knowing Dudley and his fondness for collecting nasty things, he cautiously cracked open the lid and almost dropped it. It was stuffed to the brim with money! Rolls of bills, twenties, fifties, hundreds.
Harry's first thought was that Dudley must have been hoarding his Christmas money, then remembering that his cousin had no concept of saving, assumed that it was whatever spoils Dudley had managed to bully younger kids into stealing from their parents.
He wrinkled his nose at the dirty money but still relocked it and placed it back under the bed for safekeeping. It might come in handy one day.
I see you managed to get yourself out once, Tom said snidely, but you were far too slow.
I had thirty minutes! Harry protested, indignant.
You were expected to grasp the concept in thirty minutes, and be able to cast the spell at will at this point.
I can!
Mediocrity, Tom used the word like an insult, next, you'll be utilizing the featherweight charm.
How is that useful?
Tom gave a long suffering sigh, Try to pick up your trunk.
Harry dragged it out of the closet and grabbed the handle with both hands, managing to lift it a few measly inches off the floor, arms shaking with the effort.
You are not to let go until you can successfully cast the charm.
Harry grit his teeth. Can't.
You will, it goes like this…
XXXXXXXXXX
After dropping the ridiculously heavy trunk a few times, much to Aunt Petunia and Tom's displeasure, Harry finally got the hang of it, despite the concentration issues of his aunt banging on the door yelling at him to keep it down and the buildup of lactic acid.
You will have to do better, Tom informed Harry as he stood, easily holding his trunk with one hand.
I got it, didn't I? Harry was far from thrilled after his latest exercise. Has anyone ever told you that you're a Spartan teacher? Because they were spot on.
Tom ignored him to carry on, You will have read The Standard Book of Spells by tomorrow and demonstrate the use of three spells. Should you accomplish this, I will teach you proper apparition.
I'm still pretty sure that's illegal, but alright, Harry searched several stacks of books before coming up with the one he wanted, I can do this, just you watch!
Tom sent a good amount of skepticism then blocked him off again.
Harry scowled, but forced himself to pay attention to what he was doing. Soon enough he had regained his good mood and was thinking to himself, Self-study, no more military practice sessions!
A/N: I must apologize for this chapter. It was supposed to go all the way to King's Cross station but it got too long. Next time, promise! Oh, and the poll is now closed, thank you everyone who voted. The results are:
1) Fred and George: 47
2) Hermione and Draco: 38
3) Draco (plus Crabbe, Goyle, etc.): 35
And waaaaaay down at the bottom was:
Ron Weasley with a grand total of 3 votes! Hooray! I'm sorry, but someone needs to be the bad guy, and Ron is perfect for the job.
Also, I'm looking for a beta; PM me if you're interested. Reviews are love!