"You know, Mr Potter, I spent a lot of time in the Muggle world. Watching, listening, learning their ways. What we do could be seen as an art: sending magical, spinning webs of colour at our enemies. But if you watch Muggles, you'll notice; they prefer to diffuse. Words have a higher value in their world, and if ours is ever going to thrive, we'll need to learn and appreciate what they can do."
The classroom was empty. Light from the windows hit the floating dust particles as they moved silently through the air. If silence could make a noise, it would perhaps be a scream: for the lack of sound echoing around the large, empty room was almost eerie, a large balloon requiring a puncture.
"I grew up with Muggles, sir-"
"You grew up with a certain type of Muggles," Holmes stated. "I left the wizarding world some time ago, establishing myself in London. A consulting detective, I called myself, and that work brought be just as much death and hurt as I had left behind here. For years I watched spiders spin webs of crime and destruction, and oh, how I loved to dance. There are certain types of combat that anyone can enjoy, Mr Potter, and one of those would be a fight on a more verbal platform. Anyone can shoot a spell or fire a gun. But it takes a wordsmith to successfully disarm their opponent with language alone."
"I don't see that happening around here, sir."
"The thing I despised most about our world, and possible the thing that ultimately caused me to leave, was just that. Our people are resistant to change; you look around. Cloaks, parchment, quills. Superstitions are rampant. The wizarding world chooses not to modernise, for fear of appearing to be much like their Muggle friends. Mr Potter, I hope I am right when I assume you not to be one for violence."
The boy deliberated. He was wary of Holmes, that much was clear, and he avoided the professor's eyes, as though one look may betray every secret he held. "It depends."
"You would fight to save the ones you love."
"Of course."
"But never without good cause," Potter shook his head. "But we are not the majority. You see the people ruling us, controlling what we do in defence: they refuse to believe that we as a world face a threat. Why?"
"They're scared?"
"Of what? Of course, of the people looming over our heads, the monsters under the bed. But they're scared of something else, Mr Potter. They keep their power by keeping peace. The moment a fight is declared, the minister is very likely to lose his job."
"But there isn't any other way-"
"Not to them. But if communication was sought out on both sides-"
"Voldemort isn't really one for coffee and a chat, sir."
Oh, the boy was clever. Was it his wit that had Snape so set against him? Or was it the similarities? Holmes saw enough of the generation past in the boy to understand why the hook-nosed man despised him so.
"That would be true. Mr Potter, I grew up in this castle. My early years were spent in a manor in the English countryside. I have no doubts that the means of solving conflict that I witnessed prior to my departure from this world are the ones we should never use. For instance, I grew up with an older brother. To begin with, we played nicely. Then, we fought. After a fight, we hung in limbo, waiting for the other to strike out. And then, a bloodier battle ensued. As you can imagine, adding magic to this only made things worse. But you can draw parallels."
"We're sitting in limbo. And someone has to make a move."
"What do you think, Mr Potter? Is a battle, a war, more conflict, necessary?"
"I think it might be. Voldemort won't stop until I'm dead-"
The boy's voice sank, as though he were only realising it then and there. Perhaps he always knew it and pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind; the inevitable demise of him or his enemy, at the hand of the other- the boy knew it.
"And the Order won't stop until he is. Now, Mr Potter, I want to ask: based on your childhood, what have you learned about war?"
Potter deliberated. There was an air of caution, as he tried to gauge what Holmes already knew.
"My aunt and uncle- and my cousin- were fans of hit first, ask questions later," he shrugged. "I've learned how to get away from conflict, but dealing with it was never my forte."
"And yet you seem to be just fine here."
"Magic is easier to fight with."
"That's what the ministry say. Words are nothing; magic is might."
"The ministry needs to keep its mouth shut."
"Mr Potter, if you were in charge, I have a feeling that we as a people would get a lot more things done."
"If the Order could see how useful he is, how ready to fight he is-!"
"And you have no qualms over sending a child into battle?"
Holmes sighed, throwing his hands into the air. He had long since discarded his robes in favour of his old suits, and was now facing Dumbledore, both the men standing and visibly angry.
"Mr Potter has known what he would be getting into from day one. If he didn't understand that, if he didn't fully comprehend the danger that lies ahead, do you think he would neglect to seek out your assistance? You may turn a blind eye, Dumbledore, but there are some things you cannot deny: the boy wants you to help him, train him to fight as best he can!"
"It's the best protection that I can give! Voldemort has a window into our plans, through Harry's mind, and if we allow him even a glimpse-"
"Then teach him to arm himself! If he can use Mr Potter to that degree, then what more can he do? Set the boy on self-destruct? Entrance him into joining the darker side? The only way to win is to act quickly, to ensure that the boy isn't weakened or given more reasons to doubt what we're doing!"
Dumbledore sat back in his chair. The man was old, there was not dispute on that, but his presence alone was intimidating enough to silence Holmes. "Harry is an intelligent young man. My job is to protect as many people as possible from danger."
He spoke with such reason that Holmes was almost pulled across to his argument. But this was a man who held so much power in a world he had been reluctant to return to, and if there was one thing Dumbledore didn't need any more of, it was victories.
"How much is he allowed to do?" Holmes asked.
"As much as he sees fit. I won't have him sent into a battlefield, but I do agree that he has a right to some information."
"I could assist in training him. The boy needs some kind of guidance, and if you are unwilling-"
"I'd wait," Dumbledore said, the familiar twinkle in this eye. "The boy and his friends may already have some plans set in motion.
Okay it's rushed. There's like, no plot. No action. This was my pathetic attempt at starting something off. I have a plan written down now, so I promise: there will be something worth reading next time.
I'm also planning on changing the title. I don't know what to yet, but any suggestions are welcome. So is forgiveness. Although I don't expect that, this is a pretty bad story that wasn't supposed to go as far as it has.
Until next time!