A Sword and A Sorceress:
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his spot on the floor of the hospital room. This time, however, it had nothing to do with the comfort of the furnishings. Ever since he had woken up he had felt an odd itching, bubbling sensation just under his skin. He hadn't had much of a chance to notice it before now, but on the fifth day trapped in the small hospital room and just about every book on history he could stomach it was beginning to drive him slowly mad.
Stilling his movement Harry concentrated again, driving his awareness inwards as he focused on his magic.
He had always felt his magic in some way or another, he just hadn't always known that it was magic. And now it had been rising to the surface of his skin like it wanted to tear itself away from him. That thought scared Harry, that his magic might not be the same anymore.
It had been the only thing he had been allowed to take with him from the past and a shiver ran down his spine at the thought that that too would be taken from him or twisted beyond recognition.
It was interesting, though.
While his magic rose to settle in his skin his core was still whole and healthy. The feel of the magic had not changed it had simply moved.
Frowning Harry pulled himself to his feet, moving to sit on the bed as he asked himself questions like Hermione had always told him too.
His magic was normal, which was good. But, why was it shifting to beneath his skin?
What was different now?
Rolling his eyes to himself Harry wondered, what isn't different now?
Then the thought struck him. He didn't have a wand.
If his magic knew that, or if magic herself was helping him, then could the shift be so it would be easier to use without a wand? Without a focus?
That made sense, of a sort.
Now the only thing that remained was to test the theory. Harry hadn't done any magic since he woke up and he suffered a moment of irrational fear that it wouldn't work.
Pushing down the tide of panic Harry concentrated. Hermione had once told him that it took twice as much concentration to work Wandless magic, and he didn't want to risk this not working. He might just curl up and cry if it didn't.
Narrowing his attention to the plastic knife sitting on the abandoned lunch tray on his bedside table, Harry nervously lifted a hand and willed the magic beneath the skin to do what he wanted it to do.
"Wingardium Leviosa." He intoned softly.
Harry gasped softly as he felt the magic shifting and reaching out from him like another limb to gently lift the knife a few centimetres off the tray.
It was a different feeling, to say the least, Harry had never felt his magic actually perform the spell before. He supposed that the wand acted like some sort of buffer or cut off from the magic and user.
Sitting back against the bed head Harry let the first truly genuine smile he had given since waking up light his face. He still had his magic. It would definitely take practice. It had been difficult to lift a single plastic knife, he didn't particularly want to try some of his offensive spells before he had a chance to get used to doing them without a wand.
Sitting straighter, Harry thought quickly. He didn't want to risk forgetting any of the spells he knew, he wondered if he should write them down but quickly discarded the idea. He was alone here, and he didn't want anyone else to know how different his magic was.
Frowning Harry thought about what the books had said about Sorceresses going mad on their power, how loose their mental grips were, and how could he be sure he wouldn't forget anything?
Groaning, Harry put his head in his hands. He should have listened to Snape, he knew that Occlumency helped concentration and memory recall. He knew that it would cement his grip on reality.
Both things that he needed, for his own peace of mind, if nothing else.
Thoughts racing at an alarming rate Harry recalled all the things Snape had told him about the mind arts. Clear your mind. Build a wall, then build something inside it to hold everything.
It wasn't something Harry was especially good at. His thoughts hadn't been quiet since the day he stepped into the wizarding world with Hagrid, maybe there was another way to go about it? Something that would work for him?
Sighing in frustration Harry slumped into the headboard and stared out the strip of the window that he could see. Giving up on the problem for the time being Harry let his thoughts wander. Thinking of Hagrid and Hermione, Ron and Neville he thought again of Quidditch and how much he already missed flying. The freedom of the sky, where nothing could touch him and the past and future held no importance.
His thoughts roaming in the cloudless blue sky and the wind Harry blinked. Of course. He had never thought before that 'clearing the mind' might mean a removal of visual apparitions and not thoughts.
Sitting up off the wall Harry closed his eyes and imagined flying.
If he was alone here, he would be ready for anything. Nothing would be able to touch him. A half-hour later Harry opened his eyes to look out the window, wondering if it was possible for him to teach himself to fly. Like how he had seen Snape and some of the Order do.
Gripping the sheet beneath him Harry set himself a list.
- Practice magic wandlessly.
- Learn Occlumency.
- Fly.
Just as he set his resolve to those things the door swished open revealing Cid again. Behind him trailed Seifer and Harry wondered if the other man had any friends since he was spending so much time with him.
Harry almost wept at the sight of the clear sky over his head.
After a week cooped up in the Med Bay, Harry was suffering from claustrophobia. Memories of his cupboard hadn't helped any. The nightmares had finally convinced Dr Kadowaki to let him out a day earlier than expected.
He was out of the Med Bay, but Harry didn't feel free. The room they gave him was like those of the SeeDs. He hadn't thought much of it at the time. After listening to Quistis tell him about the training he understood that the room was a big thing. It had already set a lot of people offside and that was just the sort of thing he had been trying to avoid.
On their way to the armoury, to find him a weapon to train in, Harry thought that he might set himself an ultimatum. Either he proves to himself and everyone else that he deserves that room. Or he moves into the smaller shared apartments that all trainees used.
As he came to this decision Quistis came to a halt in front of him waiting for the locked door to open.
The door opened with its characteristic swishing. And Harry's eyes widened at the display in the room beyond.
He had imagined the Armoury to be like the room in Hogwarts he and Ron had stumbled into in their first year. Filled with a stacked mishmash of weapons in no particular order.
The Garden's Armoury couldn't be more different. The weapons gleamed with a deadly light, carefully ordered in racks designed for them. Harry looked down rows of swords, spears, whips and daggers. All in different shapes and sizes to fit anyone who might stumble into the Garden.
Grinning at him Quistis nudged him towards the nearest rack of sharpened blades.
"Alright, let's see what we can find for you." Harry took a hesitant step back. The gleam in her eyes reminding him uncomfortably of Mr Ollivander and his wands.
Eyeing him Quistis pointed Harry towards the short swords and lighter blades.
"Built for speed, I think you would be best with something like that. Try anything that catches your eye, test its weight and feel." Quistis instructed without further preamble. For the first time since he had met the strawberry blonde, Harry understood why she was an instructor. Even if she had been demoted.
He wandered the racks of swords, daggers and assorted knives that Harry couldn't name.
He liked the look of a few of the slimmer swords, they reminded him of Gryffindor's Sword. The simple blades lacked the flair of the knives and daggers, but they were familiar.
He reached for one that looked to be similar in size and shape to his Founder's blade. Harry hefted the metal in his grip, testing the weight. It was far lighter than he had assumed the strange sheen of the metal suggesting why. It was clearly made from a lightweight metal that he had never encountered before.
"What are these made off?" Harry asked Quistis who was browsing the whips and flails on the other side of Harry's aisle.
"Most of the blades in here are alloys of one sort or another. It makes them strong without the crippling weight of something like iron or steel."
Shifting the sword in his grip again Harry lifted it into a defensive position. His technique probably left a lot to be desired. But his only experience with weaponry was marred by the giant snake he had been concentrating on at the time. He hadn't had time to worry about technique. It had been a 'stab at it until it dies' moment.
Swinging the blade in the confined space Harry nodded to himself. He walked down the aisle until he found Quistis tracing the handle of a black and silver flail.
"Do you know what they used to make this one?" Harry asked, trying to make noise and not startle the woman. He had made that mistake once with a SeeD and he had no want to repeat the exercise. He wondered where Seifer had disappeared to. He hadn't visited Harry again.
Turning around Quistis smiled. Turning her focus to the blade in his hand she frowned at it before her expression cleared.
"That's a titanium alloy. Strongest you can be at a light weight. Good choice." She said smiling.
Harry nodded and tried to look like he knew what he was doing.
"So what now?" He asked, worried. He had never trained in a weapon before, but that didn't mean he hadn't trained. He knew his magic back to front and sideways. Especially after exercises Hermione had run him through during the camping trip from hell.
Quistis's smile was evil.
"Now we stick you up against a monster and see how you do." She said in such a bright voice that Selphie would have been proud. Harry gulped.
"No basics first?" He hedged.
Quistis laughed.
"Hit them with the pointy end." Was all she said as she turned and marched back towards the door. Harry trailed behind.
Harry groaned as he sat on the bed he had taken in a shared apartment. The paired room had been empty. And he felt more comfortable here, he wasn't taking something he hadn't earned. At least in the eyes of these people.
The sword and corresponding sheath propped against the end of the bed gleaming. After three hours of hacking at grats in the training centre, Harry felt that he had improved. A little.
Harry shifted to sit across the bed with his back against the wall. Slowly letting all the tense muscles in his shoulders relax. Focusing on the mental image of a sky, of flying.
His spells he had discovered were far easier to cast the more he concentrated on his Occlumency. He wasn't perfect yet, and he couldn't hold any solid image for information storage. But his concentration and willpower had improved.
But he still had a way to go. He hoped that he might be able to keep kernels of knowledge in snitch like balls in the sky. Only he would know which ones held what information, and they were near impossible to catch.
Sighing Harry rubbed at his tired eyes and sat straighter on the bed lifting a hand to begin casting. He could manage a powerful expelliarmus now. It had always been one of his favourites.
An hour later, exhausted from training Harry finally let himself collapse for sleep.
The week that followed was much the same pattern. Harry would practice with his sword and para-magic. Spending two hours every evening devoted to his Occlumency and Wandless magic.
He hadn't thought too much of learning to fly yet. Harry didn't think that he would be able to until he had mastered the advanced spells first. He imagined that flight required a lot of concentration.
In the hour Quistis kindly bestowed upon him for lunch, Harry slumped at a small table in the cafeteria. The television screen flickering on caught his attention, before showing the Galbadian president. Harry didn't know much about him beyond what he had read in the recent history of Terra.
The short speech of introduction sent shivers running down his spine. This could be nothing good.
The cafeteria quietened to listen as the exotically clad woman stepped up to the podium. Harry shuddered. The look in her eyes, Harry had seen that before. True madness, the likes of which he had seen in Voldemort's red eyes and Bellatrix Lestrange.
Harry didn't notice when Zell slipped into the seat beside him. He was so focused on the woman...the Sorceress, on the screen.
"LOWLIFES! Miserable Wretches!..." The Sorceress began and Harry realised what was going on and it wouldn't end well. Not for those who were anywhere near that woman.
Looking around him Harry noticed Zell for the first time but didn't pause to wonder when he had gotten there.
"Zell, do you know where this is airing from?" Harry asked half rising from his seat.
Zell frowned up at the screen before nodding. "Yeah, it's coming from Timber. It's odd because that station shut down years ago. Since the tower in Dollet closed down."
Harry nodded, standing and headed towards the door as quickly as he could. Dodging around the crowd of SeeDs, trainees and students.
"Hey Harry, wait up!" Zell called a moment later when he realised that he was leaving.
"We're you going?" Zell asked as he jogged a little to catch up with the agitated Sorcerer.
"The Headmaster's office. We have to warn them." Harry said, dodging the potted plants in the main hall, "Zell, how many people live in Timber?"
"About 20,000, why?"
Harry swore under his breath before starting to sprint towards the lift to the third floor.
"Harry! What's this about?" Zell asked hopping as he followed Harry into the cramped space of the elevator.
"That mad woman is going to go on a killing spree as her 'big entrance' into society. We have to get a warning to Timber to get out." Harry said fidgeting in the small space. Wishing it was larger so he could pace.
"WHAT!" Zell shouted, appalled.
Harry nodded. The agitated bubbling of his magic spiking for a moment as the lift dinged and the doors opened.
"CID!" Harry shouted, sprinting from the lift. Barging straight into the office only to scream to a halt at the sight that awaited him.
The Headmaster was standing before a large screen showing blood and bodies and ruin.
With a sob, Harry felt his legs give way.
"Too late." He muttered even as he felt Zell crouch down beside him. "I'm always too late."
A/N: As you may have noticed I killed the Failed Knighting. Mostly because I wanted Seifer to hang around a bit longer and I don't want them to assume that he is a willing enemy when he does go AWOL. There is so much room for character development here that I just couldn't help myself. :)