A/N: This took a little while - had a bit of trouble with the end. But it's been betaed, so maybe a few more errors were caught - thanks John for the quick work! Hope you enjoy!
Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Chapter 22 – Warfare and Deception
The rest of the week passed uneventfully for Harry and Ginny – something Harry was grateful for, considering the hellish pace he'd had to keep up during his first couple of days back. As it was, he was keeping up with all his classes, and with his new training with Elektra, and had plans to get the Gryffindor Quidditch team and the D.A. up and running by the end of next week.
At this very moment in time, however, he was waiting for Ginny to arrive at the Headmaster's office for their very first Occlumency lesson with the old man. He couldn't say he was overjoyed by the idea – his relationship with Dumbledore may have taken a turn for the not so abysmally bad since their conversation with Fawkes, but he couldn't help but fear the Headmaster's manipulation. He knew that bad habits were hard to break, and that using people as chess pieces was a decades old tradition for Dumbledore.
Getting bored with nothing else to do, he let his hand rest on top of the Gargoyle's head, and sent a trickle of awareness to it, wondering just how smart the thing was, and if he could maybe have a conversation with it, like he did with the Sorting Hat. He imagined the old Gargoyle must have countless tales to tell, standing there guarding the door for some of the most powerful and influential wizards and witches of their age.
What he sensed weren't so much words but rather feelings, and quick flashes of images.
"Okay, got it. Not in a good mood," he muttered, snatching his hand away as he felt a sudden sting of released energy. "No need to get nasty, just tell me to shut up."
Sighing, and glancing at his watch for the umpteenth time, he wondered what was keeping Ginny. She wasn't usually late for this sort of thing, and he didn't want to go up alone.
Finally, after a few more minutes of pacing along the corridor, he heard the distant clatter of footsteps, and Ginny appeared, running full tilt towards him.
"Sorry, Harry," she gasped, "McGonagall kept us after class to give us more homework."
"That's okay," he said, smiling at her flushed appearance. "Want a moment to catch your breath before we go up?"
She smiled, but shook her head, and stood up on tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. "So, do you know the password, Harry?"
"No need, I'll just ask Grumpy here to let us in," he said, putting a hand over the annoyed Gargoyle's head. He felt slightly smug at Ginny's surprised glance, and flashed her a mischievous grin. "He knows we're expected, he can't keep us out."
"Really," she said, raising an eyebrow and quietly grinning at his obvious amusement, even if she didn't quite get what was so funny.
"He's not in a good mood," Harry explained, "I don't know why, I'd think it would be nice to have someone to talk to after so long," he finished, giving a light rap of his knuckles on the head of the statue. "Come on, open up, Grumpy."
Harry felt another slight shock of magic from the indignant guardian, but the tower opened grudgingly and they stepped together on the moving staircase.
"Ready to face our dearest Headmaster, Gin?" Harry asked quietly as they neared the ornate door that separated them from Dumbledore's inner sanctum.
"I don't have a problem facing him, Harry," Ginny answered, "it's the idea that he's going to have free access to my thoughts that gives me the shivers."
"Yeah, I know," Harry said, vowing that whatever Dumbledore taught him and asked him to do, he'd keep his promise to himself: his thoughts were his own.
Harry knocked lightly, and opened the door when the Headmaster told them to come in. He glanced quickly around the room, and noticed that Fawkes was perched in his usual spot near the window. He gave the crimson bird a quick smile, and then turned to his Headmaster, seated calmly behind his desk, apparently "more or less" engrossed in paperwork.
He took one of the chairs in front of the desk, and Ginny took the other, visibly tensing now that they were inside the office, and fully committed to this lesson. Harry looked at her from the corner of his eyes, and resisted the urge to hold her hand – it was not the kind of thing he wanted to do in front of the Headmaster.
"Good afternoon, Harry, Ginny," Dumbledore said, resting his long golden quill in an ornate inkwell. "I thank both of you for accepting to come here this afternoon. I am aware that our relationship is somewhat strained at the moment, so I know how difficult it must be to accept these lessons."
"It's not really an issue, Professor," Harry said, frowning. "The alternative is unthinkable."
The old man sighed, and said, "I know Professor Snape is not always an easy man to learn from..."
Harry snorted. "Maybe the problem lays in the fact that he doesn't want to share his knowledge? I can see where that would cause some difficulty."
"Harry," the Headmaster said reprovingly.
"Forgive me, Professor," Harry continued, not sounding the least bit sorry, "but telling me to 'clear my mind' is not enough to teach anyone Occlumency."
"Surely, Harry..." started the Headmaster, a slight frown marring his features.
"No, Professor," Harry interrupted again. "That about sums up everything he taught me." Beside him, he heard Ginny shift, and decided he needed to calm down. He couldn't help the fact that the Headmaster, with his constant grandfatherly act, had the ability to grate on his nerves like no one else he knew. Leader of the light or not, Harry really wished he'd stop pretending.
The old man sighed, and let his gaze fall to his hands, resting lightly on his desk. He seemed tired, Harry noticed, as if this new war, on top of a lifetime of conflicts, was taking its toll.
"All I can promise you, Harry," the Headmaster said, "is that I will do my best not to make Severus' mistakes. Occlumency is a difficult, demanding art, and I can not expect you to understand it and practice it without careful instruction."
Harry nodded, shared a look with Ginny, who didn't seem reassured by the discussion, and turned back to the Headmaster. The old man took two thin books, covered in dark red leather and titled Occlumency, the art of shielding the mind – a guide and handed them the volumes. Ginny reached forward to take hers, but Harry, glancing at the title, handed his back.
"I have it, Professor," he said. Dumbledore seemed surprised for a moment – Harry guessed he was wondering how he'd gotten his hands on a copy of the nearly a century old publication – but finally simply took back the book without comment. It had been difficult, and had taken quite a bit of Owl posting with a Hungarian warlock who had finally accepted to part with his copy.
"Have you read it, Harry?" Harry nodded, without saying anything. "As I predicted," Dumbledore continued, "you are at very different levels of proficiency. We will have to organise the lesson around this obstacle until you are caught up, Miss Weasley."
Ginny nodded, paging through the small book in her hands. "I'll do whatever is required, Professor," she said seriously.
"I would like you to start reading the first chapter of that book, Miss Weasley, and practice the meditation exercises described within, while I work with Harry."
"Oh," Harry said, "Ginny can start further along."
"I can?" she asked, turning towards him.
"Sure," he answered, "the meditation described there is not much different from the one we use when we're training the Curator Tractus." He took the book from her, and started leafing through it, stopping here and there to read a chapter title. Finally, he stopped at the end of the fifth chapter, and handed back the book. "Here, from this chapter on it should all be new to you."
Dumbledore had an unreadable look in his eyes as Harry turned back to him, and he wondered for a moment if maybe he shouldn't have interfered. But then he shook himself internally, and remembered that all of this was way too important to hold Ginny back, and make her go over things she already knew.
She gave him a small, imperceptible smile as she took back the book, and sat down on one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, leaving him and the Headmaster to face each other across the desk.
"I didn't know you were teaching miss Weasley the Curator Tractus, Harry," the Professor said, fixing him with a penetrating stare.
"I wouldn't say I've been teaching her, Professor. It's more like we're learning together," Harry replied, not letting his gaze or his resolve waver.
"I see," Dumbledore's tone, Harry felt, held just the right amount of disapproval that didn't allow him to call him on it without sounding paranoid. It set his teeth on edge. Particularly when he felt the delicate tendrils of Occlumency wash gently against his mental shields, and prod – most delicately – for any weaknesses.
Not feeling the need for subtlety, he let a wave of his magic power up his defences – something the Headmaster couldn't possibly miss, and said, "Really, sir, I'd appreciate it if you warned me – and asked for my permission – before poking around in there in the future. As I've said before countless times, my thoughts are my own."
The Headmaster's eyes regained some of their twinkle, as he said "Very good, Harry! Your defences are progressing nicely. Most Occlumens would not have been able to feel such an intrusion. Now, may I ask your permission to examine your defences more deeply? I will not intrude on your thoughts, I simply want to understand how your shields work – there is something most unusual about them."
Harry nodded his consent, and gripped the arms of his chairs, fighting his impulse to fight off the invasion, and concentrating simply on holding the whole construct in place. After what felt like an eternity later, the Headmaster took a deep breath, and Harry felt his presence inside his mind recede.
"I understand now, Harry, how you constructed your shields. There is finally only one thing I can teach you on the subject, but I feel it might help you greatly. I trust you have read the chapters on grounding your mental barrier?"
"I have, Professor. It is the last stage of Occlumency – the proof of a master of the art," Harry replied truthfully. It was one of the aspects of Occlumency that he had a hard time grasping – he was honestly impressed with how Dumbledore had jumped right to the one thing that he had problems with.
"While it is true that grounding one's barriers makes one a recognised master, it has a much more important function, Harry. What you try to do is develop links, from your mind to your core, and in this fashion, your shields will hold without the need for constant attention. Right now, I imagine, you have to practice at least thrice a day, am I correct?"
Harry nodded once more – holding up his shields was a constant struggle against his magic that wanted nothing more than to run wild into the world. Every time he fell asleep, he was afraid he'd wake up to a vision or a mental attack.
"Once your shields are grounded, or linked, that will no longer be necessary. Your basic shields will be up permanently – for a Legilimens, it will be like your whole being doesn't really exist. But you will still be able, if faced with an attack, to strength the barrier with more magic."
"I understand the principle, Professor, but I have a hard time actually figuring out how to apply it."
The old man paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I believe you have been working with Professor Tedakis on magical conduits?" he said finally.
Harry nodded. "Yes, she's been helping me with that."
"The technique is similar, Harry," the Headmaster said, taking out his wand and tracing in the air, with shimmering tendrils of magic the energy patterns that he wanted Harry to put up.
As Harry watched the construct, he was struck by how often, these days, his subjects seemed to encroach on one another – how a technique he learned in charms was used as the spell base for transfiguration work. How his whole education was coming together in his mind and making him a better wizard. Maybe that was the whole point of Hogwarts, to teach them to view magic as a living force surrounding them, and teaching them how to use it.
"I think I understand Professor," Harry said. "I'm still not completely certain how to go about setting this up.'
The Headmaster gave him a small smile, and said, "You have to feel it. Magic is a complex force, but I believe you have reached a certain level of understanding that allows you to be guided by it. I propose that for the rest of our allotted time, you try to work on this matter. If you are at all successful, I have a different proposition for our future lessons."
Harry nodded, his curiosity picked, and decided that, if he had to work on Occlumency, he was going to do it right, and sat down on the floor, resting comfortably on a rug, and breathing evenly, let his mind relax and reach that other state he was quickly becoming familiar with.
He wasn't sure how long it took – he lost his sense of time when he was working on his shields – but suddenly, in a blinding flash of understanding, he understood the whole point of the lesson, and using a trickle of magic, constructed the first link that would ground his mental shield. The effect was instantaneous, he felt a rush of relieved pressure, and the absence of the strain in his mind that he hadn't even been aware he was carrying was like a breath of fresh air.
His concentration broken, he slowly opened his eyes, his heart still beating too fast, his breathing irregular. He had grown so used to tension and the mental focus it took to keep his mind protected at all times, that to suddenly have even an infinitesimal part of it go away felt liberating.
He found the Headmaster had stopped lecturing Ginny on the need to find a focus to help in the first stages of constructing a shield and was looking at him, that small, ambiguous smile that had become his trademark when dealing with Harry firmly in place.
Harry got up and stretched his muscles, nothing that over an hour had passed since he sat down. Ginny had taken his place on the other side of the desk, and had obviously been engrossed in the lesson. She gave him a small smile as he sat down on the chair beside her.
"I see you have taken the first step towards becoming a master Occlumens, Harry," said the Headmaster.
Harry took a deep breath, and smiled brazenly, "It would seem so, Headmaster."
Ginny gave him a hard and invisible kick under the table for his cheek, and he turned the smile on her, making her cheeks turn pink. He felt so good he almost laughed.
"Seeing as how all you need now, Harry, is time to work on this until the grounding is complete, I have a proposition for both of you." The old Headmaster paused, and the familiar twinkle appeared in his eyes as he watched the two of them. "It is not difficult to complement Occlumency training with an introduction to Legilimency. As you might know, it is a very difficult art to master, that requires a certain amount of openness of heart and spirit to others. As such, not many try it. For those who do, it can take a lifetime to perfect. However, I do believe both of you have the necessary talent to learn it, and it will certainly make training Miss Weasley easier."
Harry couldn't help his interest being picked – he wasn't used to the Headmaster volunteering knowledge in this way. "Why would it help Ginny, Professor?" Harry asked.
"It is easier to understand the mechanics of Occlumency with a partner who is also discovering the other side of the problem... It's easier to feel the subtleties of the magic. And since Harry is already trained, you can practice on each other. We can dedicate half of our time for each discipline, if you are agreeable."
Harry looked at Ginny, and saw the excited gleam in her eyes. It was obvious she wanted to do this, and he wouldn't deny that he was curious as well. So, seeing no resistance from her, he turned to the Headmaster and nodded his ascent, smiling lightly. "I'd like that, Professor."
"Very well, then. It is settled. I will see you both next week. I believe supper will start in a few minutes, you should make your way to the Great Hall."
They took their leave, and started down the moving staircase. As the door shut slowly behind them, Harry slipped an arm around Ginny's shoulder, bringing her closer to him, and reached down to kiss her, letting his lips slide slowly on her soft mouth, feeling her breath catch as a shiver run through her, and her eyes drift closed. He'd longed to have her this close since that morning – he'd felt as if he couldn't go another minute without her.
As they arrived down at the corridor, Ginny grabbed his hand and pulled him along until they found an empty classroom, and locked themselves inside. He felt drunk on the gentle warmth of her body pressing against his, her hands running through his hair, making any sort of conscious thought a real effort.
She finally pulled away so she could look him in the eye, and, smiling brilliantly said, "You're in a good mood, Harry. I take it the lesson with the headmaster was useful."
"Not at all, Gin," he replied, grinning, "I've wanted to do that since this morning. We can continue and pretend we're celebrating a good lesson, if you want."
Her eyes sparkled, and she reached up for his lips again, savouring the moment, leaving Harry breathless and aching for her on a level he'd never felt before.
She pulled back again, and, smiling impishly, said, "Well, that isn't the only thing we can celebrate, Harry, I finally got together with Neville and Luna and went over the plans for the D.A. Have you talked to Professor Tedakis?"
"Yep. She's good to go."
"Well then," she said, reaching up again, "we can celebrate the fact that the D.A. should be up and running by next week."
"A very worthy cause," Harry answered, grinning, and deepening the kiss.
As they came up for breathe a few seconds later, Harry whispered in her ear, feeling the shiver that ran down her spine, "I have another worthy cause for you, Gin. I've booked the pitch for us for the year – Monday evenings and Saturday mornings. Are you up for a little flying?"
Harry saw her eyes light up at the prospect and grinned in response. That was very good news indeed, he could hardly wait to get up in the air again.
"That is incredibly good news, Harry. Why didn't you tell me before?"
"I don't know if you remember, but you were late before and we didn't quite get around to sharing," Harry snorted.
She grinned, and let go of him, straitening her clothes and picking up her bag. "Well, we should go to dinner, Harry. Ron and Hermione said they'd meet us there."
They made their way slowly through the corridors, letting the throngs of rushing students pass them by, simply relieved that the week was over and they'd survived.
"You know, Gin, everything is working out too well – I'm starting to get scared."
She turned and punched him lightly in the arm, getting a wounded look in return. "Stop being paranoid, Harry, just enjoy the moment. Plus, things aren't so great – have you forgotten all our problems with the Goblins?"
Harry grimaced at the thought, and sighed. "I know. I'm starting to think your S.P.E.W. idea has merit. But I hate having to go to the press with this, it'll draw all kinds of unwanted attention to our plans."
"Who are you worried about, Harry?" Ginny asked, frowning. "Voldemort?"
"And the ministry. Especially if they have a mole."
"I'm sure they have, and I'm not surprised considering what we know of Fudge's staff."
Harry run a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply. "Can we leave all that till later? I feel too good to discuss this bloody war right now."
"Sure, Harry," Ginny said, putting an arm around his waist and leaning her head against his shoulder. "We can concentrate on eating for now."
"Michael, weren't you going to start training our two youngsters?" Elektra asked, as she entered the Duelling Professor office and sat down in his couch.
"Youngsters?" he asked in an incredulous voice.
She laughed at the remark and stretched out on the couch. "It's how Dumbledore refers to Harry and Ginny, sorry."
"I know." He stepped forward from his perch on the windowsill and started pacing in front of the couch.
"So?" she prodded. "You were so excited, I thought you'd start right away."
"You know I can't do that, Ella."
"Why not?" she asked, in a concerned voice.
"I'd love to train new Curators, you know I would. We're a dying breed. But it's a serious commitment, and it is knowledge that I can't just dole out to the first person who asks." He turned to her, and his eyes were extremely serious. For all his irreverence and humour, she knew that in this matter, he would be most earnest.
"So what is the problem, Michael?" she asked, while patting the seat next to her and motioning for him to stop pacing and sit down.
"I want to get to know them better, see what sort of people they are..." He fell down on the coach beside her, sighing despondently.
Elektra looked at him thoughtfully, and took a moment to think the whole thing over before saying, "I think this is an opportunity you shouldn't pass up on, Michael. I've come to know Harry a bit – through training and in class – and I don't think you have anything to worry about. He's particularly gifted, you know. He sometimes has some trouble with advanced magical theory, but his grasp on the practical aspect of things is astounding."
"I know that, Elektra. I have him in class, as well. But he's angry, and frustrated. That's a terrible combination and you know it. It can lead to very, very bad decisions," he replied.
"All the more reason to equip him with what he needs to end this war quickly and without any, let us say, slips into dangerous territory." She smiled at him. "Come on, Michael, you know you want to."
He gave her a frustrated glare. "I do, and that is the problem. This is not a decision to be made lightly. And I realize they need some sort of guidance – they're quite dangerous in class, and completely unaware of the disastrous potential of the things they are trying to learn. They act as if the Curator Tractus is just another duelling style."
"So talk to them, Michael. I really don't see the problem. You were much more exited about this the last time we spoke about it."
He let out a bark of laughter. "I'd just kicked Potter's ass in class. I was in a good mood."
"You are a sadist, Michael," Elektra said, giving him a quick kick in the shin.
"Am not! It's just quite an ego boost to knock the hero of the wizarding world on his ass."
"Harry would hex you if he ever heard you talking about him like that. He abhors the hero-worship almost as much as the smearing campaigns the Prophet runs."
"Really? That speaks in his favour," Michael said thoughtfully.
"That's what I'm trying to tell you Michael," she said, her tone frustrated. "You're making up excuses and procrastinating. So why don't you tell me what the real problem is, so we can talk about it like grown ups?"
"Aren't you the one who's always telling me I have the mental age of a nine year old on a caffeine high?" he quipped, grinning teasingly.
"Yes, so why don't you get back on track and prove me wrong."
He sighed heavily and leaned forward, letting his face fall into his hands. "I guess once I thought about it seriously I realized the implications of what I was considering, Ella. Not just for me, even if Merlin knows the commitment it takes to pass on that much knowledge. But for them too. Right know they're muddling around with the practice exercises, without seeing that to make it really work, you have to have purpose. That being a Curator is a life long thing, and once you have it, you can never give it up."
Elektra let her hand rest on his back lightly trying to give what little comfort she could. "You never regretted it, did you? Even though the training was harsh and violent, and the aftermath even worse."
He chuckled humourlessly. "I was pretty messed up to begin with, Ella. And I had nothing else to lose by that point. I'd have taken any offer."
"And do you honestly think they're any different, Michael? They're both embroiled with Voldemort, and that's not likely to change anytime soon. You could even say that their very lives might depend on what you teach them." She paused, seemingly reluctant to go any further. But when he didn't show any signs of reacting to her words, she said quietly, tightening her hold on his shoulder. "Are you sure this has nothing to do with Adrian?"
She felt the muscles in his back tense even before she'd finished the question. "He's dead, Ella. Why would this concern him?"
She sighed, "He was your brother, Michael, and the last person you trained. I'd understand if you didn't want to go through it again, but I'd still ask you to reconsider."
"I should have been there, Ella. I don't know what possessed him to go into that forest alone." She felt the shudder that run through him, and remembered those panicky moments when they'd realised Adrian was gone, and their mad rush through the thick forests of Eastern Europe, only to find, two days of no sleep and intense tracking later, that their quarry had escaped and Adrian was dead.
"We might never understand completely, Michael. But you need to think about the here and now. For Harry and Ginny, of course, but for the whole Wizarding world as well. He's the Chosen One, after all, and I would not like to live in a world where Voldemort won." She stood up, feeling without having to be told that he needed to be alone with his feelings for some time. "I'm not asking you to commit to it right away, Michael. Just meet with them, maybe ask them about their training, try to get to know them. It will be easier to decide later."
He nodded, not answering, and she let herself out. She knew, from very long experience, that Michael needed space to deal with grief.
Harry had spent a lazy weekend, focused mostly on his brand new Quidditch team. He'd gotten the old players back up in the air, had planned and scheduled the tryouts for Beaters and their missing Chaser, and tried to forget, for a little while, what was out there. He'd been more than happy to focus on something he could control, and understand. They'd spent the whole morning on the pitch, and the time together, doing something they both loved, had relieved some of the invisible tension that was straining his relationship with Ron.
He was therefore particularly relaxed and content when Monday rolled around, and ready to face his classes. He was munching on some toast and watching Hermione make some last minute adjustments to her Transfiguration work when he saw the beautiful grey spotted Owl that he knew belonged to John Hellington came soaring towards him.
When she finally landed on the table in front of him, offering him the letter tied to her leg, Harry offered her a strip of bacon, before untying the bundle of parchment. He started reading the news, while finishing his breakfast, and marvelled at the wonder of having trustworthy information delivered to him on a regular basis. He'd never felt better connected in his life before he started his correspondence with Ragnok and John.
He frowned lightly as he reached the end of the letter, taping it thoughtfully on the table. He shot the Headmaster a quick look, then turned to Ginny, sitting beside him and hastily finishing the Potions essay she'd been avoiding during the weekend.
"Gin?" he asked.
"Um?" she answered, not looking up.
"I'm thinking we'll have to go ahead with your plan."
That stopped her in her tracks, and she stopped writing, focusing her entire attention on him. "What happened to change your mind?"
He sighed. "The minister being obtuse, and Dumbledore not stopping him." Harry frowned, and continued, "I don't like showing my hand this soon, but Ragnok told me the Goblins are getting restless, and he seemed to agree with you that a public endorsement would help him keep them on our side. If that's what it takes, then that's what it takes. I just wished there was a reporter I trusted..."
"You don't want Rita Skeeter?" Hermione asked, from the other side of the table, from where she'd followed the conversation.
"Yeah, she did a good job last year," Ron added, quietly. Harry knew the two of them still didn't know all that was going on, but this was something he could use their help on.
"I just don't like her," he shuddered in revulsion. "She's slimy."
Ginny giggled at the description, and said, "I could talk to Luna, see if she knows someone serious."
Harry nodded, and then said, "I'll need a more detailed description of what we want to set up – I was thinking along the lines of raising public awareness on the problem, maybe get them thinking beyond Goblin Rebellions and Massacres. You guys have an idea on how to do this?"
"I'm sure I can come up with some ideas, Harry, if you want," Hermione said. "When do you need to do this?"
Harry run a hand through his hair, thinking. "I'll give the Headmaster one more week to get the Ministry under control, then I'll try to do it my way. I think my name still means something, so let's use it to do a little good."
Everyone nodded, and started moving towards the exits. On the way, Ginny asked, "Anything else, Harry?"
"Yeah, Ragnok found out what happened when my parents died. Apparently, Dumbledore had a very old friend on the Board at Gringotts. An old Goblin that owed him a life-debt, apparently. He's the one that locked my Family Vault, and entrusted control of the estate to the Headmaster. The Goblin died a few years ago, so that's that."
"Well, at least now you know," Ginny said, hooking an arm around Harry's, and resting her head on his shoulder.
He sighed, "John says it will take quite a while to entangle all the legal mess, and put business back in order. But he admits that since the whole thing was collecting interest for so long, it wasn't a complete lost."
"Oh, so you made money just doing nothing? The rich really are different," Ginny teased, shoving him slightly.
Harry laughed, saying, "Apparently. You have to understand, it is a new concept for me."
They stopped in the Great Hall, where they'd both go their separate ways, and continued talking quietly.
"And what are you going to do about the Wizengamot? You wanted to appeal their decision to dismiss Sirius' will."
"John also updated me on that. So, apparently, my family is a really big deal on the wizarding world."
"Everyone knows that, Harry!" Ginny interrupted. "You're a Potter!"
Harry frowned at her, "Well, yes. I didn't know that was so important before John told me."
"You're among the very oldest families, Harry. Your ancestors are famous," she smiled. "If we had a decent teacher, you might even have heard about them in History of Magic."
"What are you talking about, Gin?"
She frowned, asking, "You don't know? But you said you knew you had a Family Vault!"
"Well, yes – I just thought that meant my family was old."
"Of course, but there's more to it than that. You know how before there was a Ministry of Magic, there was a sort of Council that presided over Magical affairs in Britain. I think that was more or less at the same time Hogwarts was founded, maybe a little before. So, the members of this Council are the ones that made a pact with the Goblins to create Gringotts, and try to get the two societies to work together. The fact that your family has a Vault means that they were members of this Council – and you have to understand, not every witch or wizard was accepted. They had trials, and only the most powerful were allowed to sign. It was an incredible honour, and gave the people in it many privileges, and..." She stopped, looking around, and realised they were among the last stragglers. "Harry, I don't have time to go over this now – we can talk more later. What did your attorney say about your family?"
"Oh, only that apparently because of who I am, and because of my family name, my case doesn't fall under the normal wizarding law, but on older decrees and statutes. He says that the laws they used to justify their actions don't apply to me, and that he'd see what he could do to force them to reverse the decision."
"Oh, that's because of what I told you – that they were part of the Council and had special privileges. There is other stuff too – I think you have a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot, for example, and something with the Hogwarts board as well, but I'm not sure about that. You should look into it. I've got to go!"
She shot him a quick kiss before running down the stairs to the dungeon, but not before seeing the dangerous light that suddenly appeared in his eyes when he heard what she had said. And just before barging into the Potion's dungeon, she had a quick thought about just how fast Harry was suddenly growing into his own.
Harry felt the blinding hex hit him, felt the uncomfortable prickling that washed over his face and the complete darkness engulf him. He fought against the sudden wave of panic and buried memories that suddenly burst to the surface, and resisted the impulse to try and fight the curse.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, concentrating on his breathing, forcing his heartbeat to slow. He needed to be calm and focused if he was going to get anything out of this lesson. Remembering his instructions, he started by forcing his mind to remember his surrounding, and focused on his other senses. He knew there would be three of them, and that they were not blinded. Not the fairest of exercises, he thought, but Professor Agilius was more focused on reality than justice. And Harry was perfectly aware of the fact that Death Eaters very rarely acted alone.
He heard a quiet footstep to his right, and the swish of a wand to his left, and, not stopping to think and acting solely on instinct, dove to the ground, finishing in a roll, and getting back up in a crouch. He wished he could cast an obscuring charm of his own, but, even as he drew up his wand to do it, he remembered his instructions, and called up a strong shield.
He felt the presence at his back even before he felt the sudden rush of displaced air from the spell that sailed past his head as he ducked. This was getting him nowhere.
Concentrating on his magic, he delicately opened up his magical senses, feeling the power of his classmates all around him, and the overpowering presence of the castle above. And in the middle of this whirlwind of colours and feelings, he realised he was no longer stumbling about, and that he knew enough to allow him to act.
He felt the presence of his three opponents more strongly, as the excitement of the fight brought their magic to the surface. Getting up, he let the magic guide him and, in less than a second, one of his adversaries was down, hit by his stunning spell before he even realised what was happening. He had not expected a blinded opponent to attack. Big mistake.
While he had been busy with the first one, the other two had sent their own spells. Harry wasn't sure he could identify them by feel, but he thought they didn't look very dangerous. Not wanting to stop to see if he was right, he called up his strongest shield, and started moving, trying to flank his two opponents. He tried to remember where he was, and which way he was facing, but the darkness was confusing, and he had to rely on his magic more than ever to be sure not to suddenly walk into a wall. He realised this whole thing was much more complicated than he had thought.
While he was moving, he felt the sudden shift in power that meant someone was casting, and swirled around, using it to pinpoint his adversary. One more down. Seeing his last ally suddenly collapse on the floor, the last one suddenly panicked, Harry thought, and started flinging spells haphazardly in his direction. He threw up a shield, held out the barrage and, at the first sign of tiring, dove from behind his shield and hit the other person with one last Stunner, ending the duel.
"Well, Mister Potter," said Michael Agilius as he stood next to Harry and waved his wand in front of his student's eyes to dispel his blinding hex. "That wasn't at all the purpose of this exercise."
"What?" Harry asked, blinking and trying to shield his eyes from the suddenly glaring brightness in the classroom.
"I'm not saying you failed, exactly," the Professor threw an amused glance at the three other teenager sprawled around his classroom, being revived by some of the other students. "Just that this wasn't how I wanted you to go about it. This was about developing your senses, forcing you to rely less on your eyes."
Harry frowned, confused. "But that's what I did!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, for the first ten seconds. When you almost got hit from behind, you opened up your magic and ended the thing in less than four minutes," Professor Agilius said, sliding his wand back into its arm holster, and motioning for Harry to move to a corner of the classroom, so as not to get in the way of the other groups.
"I don't understand how that doesn't qualify as one of my other senses," Harry said, slightly annoyed.
Michael sighed, and Harry wondered at the sudden weariness that seemed to appear in his whole countenance. "It does Harry, it does. But it also means you're moving beyond what we are doing here." He sighed again, and Harry wondered just what the Professor was talking about.
"If you want I can do it again without using my magical senses, Professor."
Michael turned to look at him, and asked, in a slightly puzzled voice, "You would give up an obvious advantage over your opponents?"
Harry snorted, "Those aren't really my opponents, Professor. They're my friends and my classmates. I'm here to learn. If you tell me I'm not supposed to use my magical senses, that the exercise is for something else, then I'd be a fool not to listen. You're a good teacher, I have no reason to think you're doing something to purposefully set me back."
The Professor didn't answer for a moment, and seemed to be lost in thought. Harry leaned back against the wall, and watched the controlled chaos around him. Watching his friends in blindfolds or blinding hexes of their own stumble around, arms extended to feel their way, and getting jumped on easily enough by their opponents, Harry supposed he might understand the Professor's point. Trying to win a three on one duel blind seemed suddenly a much harder endeavour. He took a breath, and tried stretching his arm, feeling the slight pull that meant he'd taken a bad fall somewhere, even if in the midst of all the action, he hadn't even felt it.
"What you did here, Mister Potter, was it something you learned with Elektra?" Michael asked, breaking the silence.
"Uh, you mean the whole sensing thing, Professor?"
"Yes."
Harry thought about it for a second. "Well, I suppose I should say I perfected it with Professor Tedakis, but I started using it before, while I was practising in the summer." Harry remembered, suddenly, that the Headmaster had told him to talk to his Duelling Professor about his training – but the suggestion had completely slipped his mind in the midst of the flurry of activity and homework filling his days.
"Could you tell me a bit about it, Mister Potter? I'd like to understand how you acquired this skill."
Harry looked at the man beside him, thought about the hours they had spent together in class, and the sense of ease and confidence that seemed to surround him, and saw no reason to lie or dissimulate. "I did a lot of research this last summer, I wanted to train, and to learn how to fight. Serious fighting, not the nice, you bow, I bow stuff they do in competitions. I read some books, did a little shopping in obscure libraries, and finally paid an insane amount of money to get my hands on a book that describes the training exercises for the Curator Tractus."
"How did you get your hands on something like that?" Michael asked. "They aren't supposed to be given to just anyone. Who sold you this?"
"Uh, I can't say," Harry said, in a slightly embarrassed voice.
"You don't know the person?"
"No, I do know him, but he made me swear a Wizard's Oath not to reveal his name under any circumstances."
"Did he?" Michael said in a slow, dangerous voice.
Harry threw a quick glance at his Professor, and decided it was time to change the subject. "Anyway, that's where I learned that. I read the book, did the exercises, and practised as much as I could. I realised pretty quickly that it was the real thing, and that if I managed to learn it, maybe I could survive this war."
"You have been practising for no more than four months, correct?"
"Uh, yeah. But I... Got hurt in the meantime, and had to stop for a few weeks." Harry stopped talking, and let his eyes wander, not looking at his Professor.
The older man noticed this, and seemed to finally come to a decision. "Very well, Mister Potter. I'd like to talk to you and Miss Weasley more extensively about this." Harry's eyes snapped back to him. "Do you think we could meet in my office this evening, after dinner?"
Harry nodded, and said, "May I ask what this is about, Professor?"
The older man smiled, and said. "You may ask. That doesn't guarantee an answer. You will find out soon enough, and it seems it's your turn once more – and I'll be watching, so do try to respect the rules this time around, will you?"
"What is this about again, Harry?" Ginny asked, as they stopped in front of the Duelling professor classroom.
"I'm not sure, Ginny. I think it may be about training," Harry answered, knocking on the door and waiting for an invitation to come in.
"What sort of training?"
"The one we've been doing together. Curator training." Harry saw Ginny's eyes widen slightly at the news, even as Professor Agilius told them to come in.
He was standing in a corner, near one of the windows looking at the sky above, and turned around as they crossed the threshold.
"Come in, both of you. Take a seat. We have quite a few things to discuss."
Harry and Ginny sat down on the two chairs facing the desk, but the professor stayed where he was, facing the room now, and watching his two students. He let the silence linger for a few moments, and smiled as the two showed no reaction.
"Well, I thank you both for coming. I have a few questions to ask you, and I would like an honest answer, if possible. You have my word that whatever we discuss here tonight won't leave this room, no matter what we decide in the end. Can we agree to that?" He waited for the two of them to nod, and continued. "Harry told me today that you have come across a training manual for the Curators. You have to understand, this puts me into an uncomfortable position."
"Puts you in an uncomfortable position, sir?" Harry asked, frowning.
"Yes. Such training manuals are kept on restricted access, and for very good reason. Becoming a Curator isn't something that should be taken lightly," Professor Agilius said, taking a few steps forward and leaning against the desk. "Do you even know what the Curators are? What they do?"
Seeing the blank looks in front of him, he continued, "And that is as it should be. We are the line in the sand, the barrier against darkness. There is no glory – if we do our jobs properly, no one knows we were even there, and if we don't, then we probably won't be coming home. It's constant training, so that when you go out you won't be taken by surprise, and constant danger. Just the selection process can be an impossible ordeal." He sighed, and ran a tired hand through his hair. "But here you are, too young and inexperienced to even attempt selection, and yet you got your hands on a training manual. Not only that, you understood it, and have started using it. Which in itself is quite an accomplishment, and proves that you both have quite a bit of talent for this. You understand how this can be a difficult problem for me?"
"Well, sir," Ginny quipped, "The way I see it, you can either help us or leave us be – we need the training and it's saved our lives already, so we won't simply give the book up."
Michael looked at her, saw the resolution in her eyes, and let a small smile grace his lips. "Actually, I can't let you be. What you're doing is dangerous, and the further you go, the more dangerous it becomes. You can't do this without guidance and supervision. And there are quite a few things you can't learn from a book."
"What are you suggesting, sir?" Harry asked, cautiously.
Michael got up again, and walked once more to the window, letting his fingers run along the smooth wood of the windowsill. "I'm suggesting... I'm suggesting that I take over your training. I can pull a few strings, get the two of you inducted without having to go through selection. The way things are in the world, central command won't turn down two knew recruits." He turned back towards the two students seated in his classroom, and tried to ignore the nagging doubts that were still in his mind. "But you have to understand, this isn't something to be taken lightly. It's a decision that literally changes your life forever."
"With all due respect, sir, our lives have not exactly been sunshine and roses. Making it official won't change a lot," Harry said, smirking slightly.
"There's something else you need to know before you decide. Those last few years, someone has been picking out Curators one by one. Attacking them when they are alone and unable to call for assistance, with well-trained assassins. It's a carefully planed attack meant to destroy us. Ironically, it's the reason why new recruits are so needed, but at the same time it means that on top of all the harsh training, you'll have to be constantly on guard."
At this, Ginny looked at Harry, and rolled her eyes. Harry couldn't keep from snorting quietly, drawing the Professor's attention.
"Professor, you do realize who you're talking to? I think I know what it's like to be attacked," Harry said, smiling.
"You should take this seriously, Mister Potter. They've killed some of the most capable fighters I know, people with years of experience."
"Yeah, well, they can get in line. What are a few more psychotic killers after me?" Harry quipped, earning him a reproachful glance from the Professor.
Ginny watched the interaction quietly, drumming her fingers lightly on the arm of her chair, but didn't need long to realize there was only one way to go on from where they were. If there was one thing she and Harry agreed on, it was that they needed all the help they could get. She didn't know what he was thinking, and he didn't seem as open to the suggestion as she had expected, but she knew what she wanted to do.
"Professor, could you tell us a bit more about the Curators? If I understand correctly, the training can only happen if we join, so could you explain a bit more?" she asked.
"We're a secret organisation and we operate internationally. We function like a military command, and specialise in covert operations. The objective is to neutralise treats before they can become major concerns."
"So you hunt dark wizards?" Ginny asked.
"Yes," Michael replied, "but that is only part of our job. We try to control other treats as well – vampire population, rogue werewolves, dementors, I could make you a list, but I imagine you get the picture. We try to keep things manageable, so that the danger to civilians is minimal. We have quite a few departments, each one specialized in a specific area – research, intelligence, logistics, operations. What I propose to do is to try to make Operators out of the two of you – that means you'll be out in the field, completing missions. I'd like to train you as a team right from the start, so that you'll grow together, and work effectively."
"And who's in control of this thing? Who do you work for?" Harry asked. "I don't mean to be rude, but I've had some very bad experiences with authority before."
"We're a secret branch of the I.C.W. – but our existence is a tightly kept secret, and only a very select few outside the organisation even know we exist," Michael replied, seriously. He smiled slightly, "The whole point is to avoid abuse. Fully trained Curators are very dangerous – we can't let that kind of power fall into the hands of just anyone."
"And what exactly would joining mean for the two of us?" Harry asked, "We still have school to finish, and I have a job to do. When would we find the time?"
"I know, Harry, that this won't be easy," Michael said, meeting his eyes. "I believe that what I can teach you might help you do what you have to do, and survive the war. If you're interested." He stood up, and paced the short distance behind his desk. "For the time being, joining would mean extra training – as many hours in the week as the two of you can spare. Since Elektra has your mornings, Harry, I'll settle for the evenings, and a few weekends. I certainly don't expect the two of you to drop out of Hogwarts. Consider it... a complementary education. It would also mean you'll have access to the infrastructure of the Curators, and that might be useful to your war efforts. So are you in? Or will I be forced to Obliviate you?" he said, with a small smile.
Harry and Ginny shared a long look, and a whole unspoken conversation. But truthfully, they knew they had decided the moment the professor made his invitation. Harry gave a tired sigh, wondering when he'd find time for all the things pilling on his lap, and said, "We're in."