Chapter Three: Listen to Deadly Reason

Harry awoke feeling more energetic and exhilarant. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this good about waking up. He looked in the mirror and for once, his hair actually seemed to cooperate; his black hair lay flat over his forehead but didn't get in his eyes. It looked smooth and silky.

'You look quite nice this morning,' the mirror said happily.

'Thanks,' Harry said and he pulled on a shirt and headed downstairs.

He headed downstairs to the warm smell of breakfast. He opened the kitchen door to find a plate of his favorite things in the morning waiting for him. Flat and lean bacon, scrambled eggs, wheat toast with raspberry jam and a tall glass of milk. He sat down and began to eat with great pleasure.

'Good morning sweetheart,' said a beautiful voice.

Harry turned around to see a gorgeous woman with red hair and vibrant green eyes smile warmly at him from the oven where she was making more bacon. She wringed out her hands in the sink and walked towards him. She leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead. Harry breathed in while she kissed him. She smelled wonderful, oddly familiar. The scent of clean laundry, an old couch in the living room and the scent of a family pet. She smelled like home.

'Did you sleep well?' she asked sweetly returning to the oven.

Harry was stunned, his mouth hanging open.

This isn't happening. This is not real. She's dead. She's been dead.

'Honey?' she asked. 'Did you hear me?'

Harry stared at the woman for a minute than back at his half eaten food. It tasted real enough. And Harry could hear, touch and smell everything in the room. It felt wonderful. He noticed that the woman was still looking at him with a puzzle look on her face, but she showed concern, real concern.

'Yea,' Harry croaked out. 'Yea, slept like the dead.'

The red haired woman smiled and again walked forward and gave Harry another kiss, ruffling his hair. Harry couldn't help it. He knew this was preposterous, this wasn't real, it couldn't be. But there he was, eating breakfast and receiving kisses from his mother, Lily Evans. He looked across the table and saw his reflection in a table mirror. But something about the way he looked wasn't right. He peered into the mirror more closely, after his mother had ruffled his hair, he looked different. He leaned across the tables and pulled the bangs out of the way to reveal……. nothing.

My scar? Where the hell is my scar?

'Something wrong, sweetheart?' his mother asked. 'You're acting a bit weird this morning.'

Harry stared at the mirror for a full minute. Before he could answer her the door to the kitchen opened and a thin man with jet black hair and horned rimmed glasses walked in. He was carrying the Daily Prophet in his hand. Harry took a good long look at the man and he felt his jaw drop.

'I'll tell you, honey,' he said walking forward and placing a kiss on his wife's cheek. 'That paper boy of ours is getting later by the day.'

His wife smiled warmly at him while she poured him a cup of coffee. The man rubbed his wife's shoulders while leaving kisses along her neck. He gratefully took the cup, gave his wife one more kiss and sat down at the table across from Harry, an identical plate of delicious breakfast in front of him. He pulled out the paper and scanned the articles.

'Man oh man,' he said, his eyes scanning over the first page. 'If anything remotely interesting happens in the wizarding world, I swear I'd die of shock.'

Harry stared at the man, who was now flipping through the paper to the sports section, then back at the woman who was now cleaning the dishes in the sink.

This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real.

'Alright there son?' the man asked now surveying Harry with the same look his mother gave him.

Harry couldn't speak for a minute. All this was an illusion he thought to himself. My parents are dead. They've been dead for years. Voldemort murdered them.

'Yea,' Harry heard himself say. 'Sorry, I was just, uh,' he thought up a lie, 'thinking about, er, quidditch.'

Harry's father smiled at his son and gave out a laugh.

'Son,' he said slapping his hand on his knee. 'You're a seventeen year-old man, and believe me, I have always been pleased that you take such an interest in the game of games, but there are plenty of girls out there dying for a date with a handsome young man like yourself.'

Harry smiled at his father. His mother, on the other hand made a loud huff from the kitchen. Both men stared at her until looking back at each other, grinning.

'Hey,' his father said, leaning against the table. 'What say after our breakfast we go out to the park for a fly?'

'I heard that,' Harry's mother said, not bothering to turn around.

'Oh come on, Lily, sweetheart,' his father said. 'It's only going to be for a couple of hours.'

'James Potter!' she scolded. 'Remember the last time you were on that broom of yours you nearly cracked your skull.'

'Nearly,' his father said back, still grinning but giving his wife a playful look.

'I do not approve of broomsticks,' Lily said folding her arms over her chest.

'Please mom?' Harry said, now not containing himself from the sheer enjoyment he was in. Lily turned around and looked at her son, worried etched into her face. But then she smiled warmly.

'Oh all right.'

Harry and his father both stood up at once, making to leave for the kitchen but not until Lily made a loud snort. Both men froze, turned around and retrieved their dirty plates and cups. They washed them in the sink, kissed her on each cheek then out the door.

'I want you both back in this kitchen at lunch,' she called. 'Sirius is coming over.'

Harry smiled even more broadly. He went back upstairs, and grabbed his firebolt. His father was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs, grinning broadly, holding his own broom along with a leather jacket.

'It's a bit cold out today, son,' he said handing him the beautiful dark brown jacket. 'Better wear this just in case. Your mother would have me on the couch if you got a cold today.'

Harry grinned while putting on the jacket. His father made to open the door but it flew open on its own. Standing in the doorway was a hooded figure with long ghostly hands. He raised his wand, and in horror, Harry saw the cold red-slit eyes that plagued his nightmares. Before the lurid green light struck him in the chest, he heard the high-pitched laughter of Lord Voldemort.

Harry sat upright in bed, his scar stinging, a thin layer of cold sweat covering his face. He opened his eyes in fear, trying to regain his breathing.

It was a dream.

He leaned over the side and put his feet on the floor. He stared out a window now facing him. It was dark and cloudy outside, rain pummeled the window and bolts of lightning could be seen off in the distance. Harry could see his reflection in the mirror and with a shaking hand lifted up his bangs to reveal a lightning shaped scar on his forehead, visibly redder than the rest of his color.

A dream. It was just a stupid dream.

As Harry groaned and lay back down on the bed he was in, forgetting all about Demetrius Castor, he couldn't remember the last time he felt this horrible. He lay on his side and relaxed, listening to the pounding rain outside as sleep overtook him once more

Harry woke up as light poured into the bedroom. He stirred a bit, groaned while sitting up again. He never was that much of a morning person. He stood up and crossed to the window, and gasped.

It must have been early in the morning. The rain had stopped, but it was still cloudy and grey. But somehow the sun managed to poke through and cast brilliant sunlight upon his view. Harry looked down. He had no clue where he was but it was a beautiful sight. There were rolling hills and countless stone walls. He looked further to his right and his jaw dropped. The ocean, wide, blue and immaculate crashed upon the dark sandy beach. Harry looked straight down to see a black BMW parked in a cobbled driveway. And then it hit him. He was standing in a bedroom in the home of Demetrius Castor. Now that he realized where he was, it didn't make him feel any better. He knew where he was, but didn't. What country was he in? Were there other people in the house besides him and Castor? He really had no idea. Realizing he was fully dressed, he crossed to the door where he spotted his wand. He pocketed it, now really wanting to be without it and opened the door. He entered a large hallway with many doors and flush burgundy carpeting. He followed the hallway down to the front of the house where a stunning mahogany staircase led down to large oak doors. He walked down the stairs, his hand gripping his wand inside his pocket. Upon reaching the first landing, he heard a sound to his left. He went down yet another hallway, passing an enormous library, study and ballroom, with an ancient looking piano.

The sound became louder, coming from the door right in front of him. He pulled out his wand and opened the door slowly. He was now standing in the doorway, looking into a kitchen made mostly of marble and mahogany wood for the illustrious carved cabinets. He noticed that the oven was on, and so were the burners. He eyes took in bacon, eggs, ham and sausage being cooked, but he didn't see anyone. The smell was wonderful, and instinctively, Harry's empty stomach made a loud grumble.

'Harry Potter, sir!' came a high pitched voice.

Harry knew that voice anywhere, but he couldn't believe it.

'Dobby?' he said uncertainly looking around the kitchen.

And then, a small figured with long pointy ears popped his head over the counter then disappeared until Harry was caught off as Dobby the house elf squealed exuberantly and hugged him around the legs.

Dobby didn't look any different than last Harry saw him, except for his cloths. He wore a simple small black muscle shirt with short children's denim jeans, and matching black shoes. His large oval eyes filled with tears as he took a step back from Harry and bowed gracefully, his pointy nose skimming the floor.

'Dobby is so happy to see, Harry Potter, sir!' he said joyfully.

Now although Harry had run into Dobby in the most unfamiliar places, seeing him here was pushing it.

'It's good to see you too, Dobby,' he said, and he meant it. It was good seeing a familiar place. 'Nice cloths.'

Dobby smiled broadly, his eyes filling with tears. 'Professor Castor bought them for Dobby.'

Harry blinked.

'Professor Castor?' he asked not sure he heard Dobby correctly.

'Yea, Potter,' said a cold voice from behind him. 'Professor Castor.'

Harry spun around. Standing in dark denim jeans and a button down sky blue shirt was none other than Demetrius Castor, his arms folded across his chest, a sarcastic smirk upon his face.

Harry was about to ask him the million and one questions on his mind when Dobby approached him, bowing again.

'I made breakfast for you and Mr. Potter, sir,' said Dobby and Harry couldn't help but notice how solemn and respectful Dobby had said it.

Castor eyed the elf with a smile on his face.

'Thank you Dobby,' he said. 'By the way, you're week's pay is in your quarters. Now if you could leave me and Mr. Potter here in private, we have much to discuss.'

Dobby bowed again.

'Yes, sir,' the elf said before turning to look at Harry. 'It is good to see you again, Harry Potter sir. Dobby is so delighted that you are staying with Professor Castor.'

He bowed once more than left the kitchen, leaving Castor and him alone. Harry couldn't help but show signs of him being nervous, but Castor simply strolled past him.

'Hungry?'

Harry walked towards him by the oven, grabbed a plate and filled it up to its full potential.

'A bit.'

They sat in silence at the kitchen table, Castor not eating much but drinking coffee and reading the paper, idly smoking a cigarette. Harry's eyes darted to him and then back to his plate. He was enjoying his first breakfast in a week to not really care about anything else, but he had so many questions he wanted Castor to tell him. He should've been pretty upset that this unknown wizard had dragged him, literally, away from the Dursley, cursed him so he wouldn't know where he was, and now not saying a word about it, like this was a Tuesday for this guy. But considering that Castor obviously didn't want to kill Harry, at least not yet, and Dobby was here, it settled his nerves a bit, but he still had questions.

'You are on the island of Inis Clove,' Castor said simply turning the page, answering the question that was right on his mind when Castor spoke.

'Uh,' Harry said dumbly, 'Where is that?'

'Inis Clove is a deserted island which is apart of the Aran Islands, about ten miles off the coast of Gulway, Ireland.'

Harry looked around for a moment. He was in Ireland? Well, he was off the coast of Ireland on a deserted island. It didn't seem that strange. Most wizard families lived in deserted areas, just like the Weasley's he thought. And then another thought came to him.

'Uh, Professor,' he said. 'If Dobby is here, where's Kreacher?'

He didn't even know if Castor knew the wretched house-elf that was once the property of the Black family. Now that Sirius was dead, the elf belonged to Harry, which made Harry feel only worse about it. Castor didn't look up from his paper when he spoke.

'Dead,' he said simply.

'Dead?' Harry asked.

'Yea,' Castor said, still not looking up. 'Died about three days ago.'

Harry didn't much care that Kreacher was dead, in fact, he felt pretty damn good about it, so he let the conversation drop.

They sat in silent for a minute, until Harry was finally done eating. Castor looked over his paper at him, and noticing, that Harry was looking at him with great interest and expectancy, Castor put down the paper, lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair.

'Alright,' he said. 'Ask your questions.'

Harry hesitated for a moment. Most of the time no one would tell him anything, but here he was, allowed to ask anything he wanted.

'Who are you?' he asked.

'Demetrius Castor.'

'I know that,' Harry said impatiently. 'I mean, who are you? Are you a member of the Order of the Phoenix?'

'No.'

'Oh,' Harry said, but he got nervous. If he wasn't with the Order, how the hell did he know where he lived? Harry put his hand underneath the table and closed his fingers around his wand.

'I am the new Defense Against the Dark Arts for Hogwarts,' he said plainly. 'When the school opens in the fall.'

'If it opens,' Harry mumbled.

'The killing of one Headmaster won't stop the school from re-opening,' Castor said. 'That school is over a thousand years old, and it won't close just because one old man got whacked.'

Harry stood up, furious with Castor. This had gone on long enough. He pulled his wand from outside his pocket, pointing it right at Castor's chest.

'DON"T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT DUMBLEDORE LIKE THAT!'

Castor stared at Harry with a look of pity, his hands still on the table.

'You got quite a temper, Potter,' he said with a smirk that made Harry want to hex him into the next world. 'If only you had some sort of talent to back up your words.'

Harry hadn't been this angry in a long time. His teeth grinded against one another, his hand clutching his wand began to shake with indefinable anger.

Hex him. Take that smirk off his face.

To make Harry even angrier, Castor yawned. Harry snapped, he raised his wand over his head.

Castor raised his own hand, outstretched towards Harry, and snapped his fingers. Harry's wand flew out of his grasp and into Castor's who placed it on the table.

Harry stood there, fuming, but nonetheless impressed. He had heard of wandless magic, but he had never seen it, and Castor had done it twice in his presence with what looked like considerable ease. He continued to stand, his breathing hard, staring daggers at Castor, who stood up as well.

'Sit,' he ordered. Harry sat down but didn't give up the look of pure anger. Castor took his seat again.

'Here's the gist Potter,' he said now staring at Harry professionally, passing his wand over the table for Harry to take once more. 'I have spoken to the Headmistress at Hogwarts and she is very concerned about your plans on taking Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger on a suicide mission to take out the four remaining Horcruxes.'

Harry stared at Castor dumbly. How did Castor know about his two best friends? How did Castor know about the Horcruxes. Better yet….

'How did she find out?' he asked.

'Potter,' Castor said, a touch of annoyance in his voice. 'There isn't much the Headmaster of Headmistress doesn't know about their students or the happenings that go on at the school. Now stop interrupting.'

Harry went silent.

'She has asked me to take on the position of Defense teacher and has always granted me the position as Head of Gryffindor.'

'SHE WHAT!' Harry yelled incredulously.

At this Castor snapped his fingers and Harry lost his voice mid-sentence.

'Potter,' he sneered, 'will you please shut up?'

Harry was silent, not like he had a choice.

'Now,' he went on, 'now that you have successfully thrown yourself out from the Dursley's, you are an under-aged wizard without a guardian. It's taken many strings to pull, but until you turn seventeen, I am now your legal guardian.'

Though Harry couldn't speak, his mouth opened in shock.

'When you turn seventeen,' Castor said, 'You have all legal right to do what you want. Unfortunately, until that time, you are my responsibility and will obey anything I ask of you.'

He snapped his fingers once more, and Harry's voice came back to him.

'But why you?' Harry asked, still fuming, not liking this situation more and more by the minute. 'I don't even know you, but you do look familiar.'

'You probably saw me at Dumbledore's funeral,' Castor said plainly. 'And in regards to your first question, that, I will tell you when the time is right.'

Harry stared at Castor for a moment. For some reason, he believed every word he said. He didn't like him, not one bit, but he knew the wizard was telling the truth.

'Now,' Castor said. 'Since you will be living here, let me bring you up to speed on who I am and what I know, to an extent. I can't tell you everything. That, I'm sure you are used to.'

'Unfortunately,' Harry said darkly.

Castor chuckled a bit.

'My name is Professor Demetrius Castor. You will refer to me as Professor, not sir, I hate that shit. I am twenty-two years old. I am from England but have been raised in the United States for as long as I can remember. I graduated at Balmorhea School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in upstate Maine. After I graduated, I went into the Auror department. I was an Auror for about three years in the United States but most of my work has been for the Ministry of Magic in England considering the difficulties your Ministry has had with the Dark Lord. I left the Aurors about two years ago and since then-'

At this Castor stopped. Harry was looking at him intently. Castor leaned back a bit in his chair.

'Since then I've been working independently,' he said coolly.

Harry didn't really understand what that meant but he had a feeling he didn't want to know.

'I don't know much about you, per se,' Castor went on, 'but I am aware of what the prophecy says, and I'm aware that apparently, you are the last chance that we have for defeating Voldemort. That's probably why the Ministry is taking such an interest in you.'

Harry looked extremely put out about what Castor had just said, but Castor continued.

'Personally,' he said looking straight at Harry, his eyes fierce, 'I think that whole prophecy is nothing more than simple bullshit, but other's think differently. Nevertheless, Voldemort thinks differently and wants to kill you personally. He believes knocking you off will make him invisible.'

'I'm honored,' Harry blurted out.

Castor smiled. An actual, real smile.

'Look Potter,' he said plainly. 'I don't give a damn about you, the prophecy or Lord Voldemort. He could wipe out everyone that stands in his way here and it wouldn't bother me none.'

'Why not?' Harry asked.

'Because Voldemort is smart enough to know not to invade the United States and try and take it over.'

Harry started to get confused.

'Uh,' he said dumbly, 'Why wouldn't Voldemort try to invade it?'

Castor, again, smiled.

'You don't know your history, do you Potter?' he chuckled. 'Let's just say England doesn't have that great a track record when invading the U.S.'

'But Voldemort is the most powerful wizard in the world now that Dumbledore is gone,' Harry said sadly. 'He could do anything.'

'Trust me on this one, Potter,' Castor said darkly. 'You're asking for an express card to hell if you try and pick a fight with the States.'

Harry didn't say anything.

'If Voldemort is the most powerful wizard in the world Potter,' Castor said now eyeing him with suspicion, 'then why do you want to go out and look for him?'

Harry stared at him, then took a deep sigh.

'Because I'm the one who has to kill him.'

'If that even is true,' Castor said rolling his eyes at the thought, 'I highly doubt you'll get the chance. The only thing you're accomplishing by going out there by yourself, and no, your friends won't be much help, is giving yourself to the Dark Lord on a silver platter.'

'Well,' Harry said angrily slamming his fist on the table, 'WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSE TO DO THEN?'

'Easy Potter,' Castor said. 'I know you want to kill him, as horrifying as that sounds, but you can't do this on your own. Like it or not, you are still very young, and if you couldn't kill Snape or Bellatrix LeStrange when you had the chance, you're not going to stand a chance against the Dark Lord, and yes I have heard about that night in the Ministry and how you battled Snape the night he killed Dumbledore,' Castor said as he noticed Harry's quizzical look.

Harry stared at Castor until the realization hit him in the face.

'You're going to train me aren't you?' he said, his eyes widening. 'That's why McGonagall made you Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and that's why you took custody of me until I'm seventeen.'

Instead of answering, Castor leaned back in his chair and clapped his hands together unenthusiastically.

'Very good, Potter.'

Harry stood up. He couldn't believe this. This was insane.

'And I suppose you're going to convince me to go back to school in a couple of months?'

Castor pulled out another cigarette. 'Yep.'

'And how are you planning on doing that?' Harry asked, his anger starting to rise once more.

'Potter,' Castor said calmly. 'I know you want to finish this connection you have with Voldemort. It has been a burden to you all your life, that the Dark Lord killed your parents and is now after you. How your Godfather was killed in this battle, along with the Headmaster who you were very close to.'

Harry sat back down, tears starting to leak out of his eyes.

Castor stood up and crossed to him. He placed a strong callused hand on his shoulder that made Harry shiver.

'Now listen to reason Potter,' he said in a hoarse whisper. 'If you don't go back to school, you're going to give the Dark Lord what he wants, you, alone and vulnerable. Not only will your best friends be killed, but you will be killed too, and all for nothing. And if the prophecy is true, then you not only got yourself killed, but every one else you have cared about, every one who has cared for you, will die too.'

Harry was now silently crying, tears leaking down his face. He hated to admit it, but Castor was right. Him wanting to leave school and go search for the Horcruxes by himself was stupid, he finally realized and brought on by the fact when Dumbledore was killed, that feeling that all hope was lost.

'Now am I right or not?' Castor asked, his hand still on Harry's shoulder.

Harry didn't have the ability to speak. If he opened his mouth, he would start crying, let out a choked sob, and he didn't want to do it in front of Castor. He merely nodded.

'Glad you see that,' Castor said taking his seat again.

There was a long deadly silence between them. Harry wiped his face angrily until he regained himself and finally spoke.

'So,' he said in a weak voice, 'So, you're going to train me?'

'Yes,' Castor said solemnly.

'In what?' Harry asked.

'Everything you'll need to defeat Lord Voldemort, and anyone else that tries to fuck with you,' Castor said sternly.

Harry looked at him with a confused look on his face.

'Like what professor?' he asked.

Castor put out his cigarette before eyeing Harry through the wisps of the smoke.

'I will teach you as much as I can over the summer,' he said. 'You will wake up early in the morning every day. We will start out with physical training, running, working with weights, flexibility lessons and so on. You're thin, Potter, we need to put some muscle on your bones.'

Harry blushed at this.

'Also,' Castor went on. 'I will be teaching you how to master Occlumency and Legilimency.'

Harry shuddered. He didn't like the sound of learning Occlumency again, especially after his experiences with Snape. Still, he knew what Dumbledore had said to him once, and he understood the vitality of mastering both of them.

'Anything else?' Harry asked tentatively.

'Oh yes,' Castor said with an evil smile. He pulled his hand away from his face, snapped his finger and a bottle of what looked like gin came soaring out of one of the cupboards and landed right in front of him. He conjured up two glasses by clicking his fingers once more and poured two generous helpings of gin into the glasses. Harry couldn't help but not think about Dumbledore and the day he went into the Pensieve, when Dumbledore had first met Tom Riddle.

'Wandless magic?' Harry asked incredulously. 'You're going to teach me wandless magic?'

Castor didn't reply but instead passed Harry one of the glasses.

'I'm going to be working you to your breaking point, Potter,' he said evenly. 'Today will be yours. This island is deserted, just you, me and the elf. You are free to explore the island today, and I suggest you do thoroughly. You're going to be running around it quite a lot for the remainder of the summer.'

Harry nodded, but then something came to him.

'Uh, Professor?' he asked, 'What about Bill Weasley's wedding? Am I still going?'

Castor drained his glass then refilled it. 'Yea, you're going to the wedding. Hope you don't mind but I already got Bill and his fiancé a wedding gift, seeing as we can't stroll into Diagon Alley at the moment. Cheers,' he said raising his glass. Harry did the same and downed the contents in a breath. He wasn't much of a drinker, and the strong burning sensation of gin went down hard. He coughed, and Demetrius chuckled a bit.

'You gotta learn to hold your liquor Potter,' he said grinning.

Harry stood up suddenly, wanting to take a long walk around the island, hopefully all the information that Castor had told him would register. He needed to think, he needed to be alone.

'Well,' he said. 'I think I'll take a look around the island.'

He made his way towards the kitchen door when Castor called to him. Harry turned around to be caught off guard as the wizard was standing only a mere six inches away from him. Castor towered over him by a good several inches, and his light blue eyes dug into Harry's.

'I'm going to say this only once,' he said in a very deadly whisper, 'You are to do as I say while you are in my house. You will not once, not ever, go into my bedroom, and you will not try to make contact with anyone, not a soul, unless you tell me about it before hand. Do you understand me?'

Harry stared nervously back at Castor, until nodding.

'Yes, sir,' he said. 'Perfectly.'

Castor eyed Harry for another minute, his eyes locked with Harry's.

'Good,' he said flatly. 'Very good, enjoy your walk.'

Harry opened the kitchen door, but one more question came to mind.

'Professor Castor?' he said.

'Yes, Mr. Potter?'

Harry hesitated a bit until asking, 'If you don't care about me or what happens, why are you helping me?'

Castor eyed Harry for a moment until giving an evil smirk.

'Because Potter,' he said, 'I'm getting paid extremely well for my services.'

Harry walked out of the kitchen, through the front door and down towards the beach. His mind was spinning from all this information. He was in for a long hard summer. This wasn't going to be easy, he thought to himself as he walked down the beach away from the house. He continued to relay the conversation he had with Castor in his head when he looked up and, not believing his eyes, saw his snowy white owl, Hedwig soar closer and closer to him. Hedwig landed gracefully upon a large boulder a little bit away from Harry. He noticed that she was carrying a letter in her beak. She dropped the letter upon the top of the boulder, stretched her wings, and took off.

'Hey!' Harry called to her, but it was no use. Hedwig flapped her wings, gaining more altitude and in the next instant, she was gone from sight.

Harry ran towards the letter, tore it open, unfolded it and read.

Harry,

Ron just told me that you are spending the remaining days of the summer with Demetrius Castor. After discussing this with Professor McGonagall, I understand that he will be training you in many skills you will need later down the road. I am not at all happy with this, still, Harry, I do not know much of Demetrius Castor, in fact, not many do. Not much is known about him and what is known is too violent and horrifying for you to know at that moment. All I can say is that he is a very powerful and deadly wizard with a bad temper and very little patience. He is trusting, Harry, but I strongly advice you not to cross him while you stay with him for the summer. It would be…… unhealthy. See you in a week at the wedding.

Yours Sincerely,

Arthur Weasley.

Harry re-read the letter once more until finally folding it up and stuffing it into his pocket. Before he read the letter, he didn't like the idea of staying with Castor. Now, after receiving the first letter from Mr. Weasley he had ever sent him, containing Mr. Weasley sounding very upset about him staying with Castor, and adding that Castor was not known but what was didn't sound all that pleasant; now, Harry was flat out terrified.

A/N: Alright, I didn't mean to make it that long, but I had a lot to cover. Next chapter will be up after I finish up my finals.