06/04/2013

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Weapon LXXXIX Argument

For a moment Harry stood riveted to the spot. The celebrations continued around him but he could not hear them. Then everything intruded and it was too much. Despite the crowd of people, the Shadows were doing their best to comfort their Master, pressing close and sliding phantom hands up and down his back. It delayed the outburst for about two seconds.

"What?!" Harry almost shouted, his green eyes flashing so dangerously that even those celebrating victory knew something was wrong.

There were so many thoughts going through Harry's head, so many emotions roiling around that his stomach felt like it was at war with itself.

Why did Voldemort…? How had it happened? Not Molly. Not one of the few people who actually looked at him, not at the Boy-Who-Lived. Why wasn't he summoned? When had it happened? Who attacked and why hadn't Molly gotten free? Was she dead? Was she alive? Injured? How badly? What happened now?

Everything demanded attention and it wasn't just the shell that Harry had created to protect himself that was enraged, his true self also felt anger.

Why had his beloved hurt one of the few people Harry actually cared about? And why didn't Dumbledore believe he should be told?

His anger crystallised, focusing on the issue he could deal with but not forgetting the other. The anger there continued to churn, feeding upon itself, becoming stronger. He'd want answers, good ones and possibly the bloody corpses of those responsible before he'd consider letting that anger calm. But for now… why had Dumbledore thought it pertinent to only summon the Weasleys? Did he not deserve to know? Or was this considered just a random act of war that Harry couldn't do anything with? Those had been increasing and Harry had felt an increasing amount of frustration reading the papers.

The Ministry was getting stronger. It's response times better though they still failed to think of the further implications of attacks. They were linear that way. They saw the attack, they fought back. They never thought that the attack might be a cover for something else, a test, a probe, a diversion. But they were gathering allies and becoming more organised. The fear was present, but there was a rising sense of hope as well. It was just a kernel at the moment, but it could sprout at any time. And it was becoming increasingly obvious that Dumbledore was saving him for something special, so that he could do something to bring forth that hope.

That was well and good if Harry had been an unfeeling weapon, but he was also flesh and blood. He wanted to help, he'd told Dumbledore that at the end of last year, yet the Headmaster seemed determined to hold him in reserve. With all the training Harry had been given it couldn't be because Albus had some misguided thought of giving Harry a childhood, it had to be something driven by his self-interest. If he'd know it would be like this Harry would have been sorely tempted to try however many years the Shadow's estimated the war would have taken if only because the battle would have been honest.

Angrily Harry shoved his broom at Hermione, who really should have been told as well, given her budding relationship with Ron before he stormed away, heading towards the castle. The rest of the students cleared out of his way, sensing his anger. He didn't catch McGonagall and the others but he couldn't have been far behind them. The green eyed wizard didn't even bother with the password for the gargoyle. It got the idea. Dumbledore's office guardian wasn't sentient but it knew when it was better to simply stand aside and let the Headmaster deal with the problem he created.

"I'm so terribly sorry," Harry caught the snippet of conversation just before he burst through the door.

"You should be," he snapped noticing that Dumbledore didn't look that surprised at his intrusion.

"Mr. Potter," the Headmaster greeted him. "I think it would be best if you waited outside."

"Why?"

"Because this does not concern you."

Green eyes opened wide with disbelief. "Does not concern me?" he hissed, feeling his anger rage through him. "How does it not concern me? When one of the people who sees me is attacked?"

"You are not family," the ancient wizard interrupted in a voice like ice and a flare of his aura.

Harry didn't even notice the old man's aura washing through the room. Ginny and Ron did and the two of them felt flattened by the opposing magical forces. Dumbledore was a contained force, tempered and restrained while Harry was wild and free, swirling around the room in its eagerness to move. "And you know darn well that I have a standing invitation into that house because I am considered family," Harry shouted.

"Regardless of how you feel on the matter, Mr. Potter, this is not your concern." The words were clipped by Dumbledore's anger.

"I'm making it my concern."

Fawkes chose that moment to sing. The trill of his song warbled through the room, the notes gentle and comforting as the phoenix sought to instil peace and calm raging tempers. It worked somewhat because reluctantly Harry felt himself relax and he saw Dumbledore's posture soften slightly but beneath the surface of his mind he exploded. How dare the bird interfere!

Surprisingly the Shadows acted then, visibly coming alive and surrounding him to the shocked stares of his friends. :Master,: they crooned at him. :You need to calm down,: they added, and Harry was surprised enough to listen to them. Usually they wanted the polar opposite than the fire bird.

:That's true,: they agreed with his unvoiced question, :but right now you need to calm down. Rage is a weapon Master, one you can control but rage is also a crutch, one that will confine you and limit what you can do. You must step beyond it Master, so that you control your destiny, so that you know your choices. Let your anger guide you, for it will tell you what you care about. At those times embrace it, accept it and then let it go. Do not change your feelings towards what caused you to feel anger but act logically, coldly to strike with the most efficiency.:

Harry wasn't sure if their words were private but he understood and their closeness to him, pressing into him, letting him feel their power and their presence with the knowledge that they would never lie to him did calm him down somewhat. He wasn't ready to release his anger at Dumbledore yet though and they seemed to understand that. Harry took a deep breath and started again. "With all due respect Headmaster," he almost choked on the words but they were expected, "I believe this is an issue that is my concern."

"It is," the older wizard seemed calmer now. No doubt Fawkes' song had worked how it should. "But it is something your friends should be telling you about."

The phoenix's eyes were glittering red and content and Harry felt his inner self note that detail with loathing. There was, at some point, going to be a very just retribution but not here and not today.

"I beg to differ Sir," Harry countered, keeping his voice even. "The Weasley's have been kind enough to offer me a place in their home, to consider me one of their family. That makes an attack on any of them, an attack on me."

"The relationship has not been formally recognised by the Wizarding Community."

"Because I would not let them," Harry replied, knowing that the real answer was far more complex. A part of it was that he would not let them. In earlier years, while he was ignorant he would have said the danger was too great, a situation which had been played out today but now he was also sure that Dumbledore would have put as many stumbling blocks between him and the Weasley's formalising their relationship as the old wizard could. Never directly. The Headmaster was far too cunning for that, but things would have arranged themselves to be as difficult as possible, every possible objection would have been raised by some puppet doing the Headmaster's bidding and it would have been a nightmare to surmount. All because it would give the Weasley's too much prestige to adopt the Boy-Who-Lived and the so called Leader of Light could not have anything detracting from his control over the Saviour.

"An admiral sentiment Mr. Potter, but one that excludes you here." Harry could almost hear the words 'But one that hasn't worked,' and he worked hard to control way his anger rose again at that thought.

Ginny and Ron were watching with huge eyes, neither of them willing to talk but the press of power against them was reducing and summoning their courage they looked at each other. Harry was a part of their family, even if it wasn't formalised and he did have a point. "Sir," Ginny spoke softly, attempting to intrude without causing waves. Two sets of eyes swung to her, and the image of Dumbledore as a kindly saintly old man was forever lost to her as she stared into his hard blue eyes. Harry's glittering green orbs were something she desired but she had never seen quite that level of focus in them. "Harry is considered a part of our family. As is Hermione. They should be told."

"I have no objection to either being told, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore began gently, softening his voice as much as he could. "However neither are yet formally a part of the Weasley family and by wizarding stature this is family business. Your sentiments do you credit, in fact they do your whole family credit for your ability to look beyond the surface, to see that everyone needs family but at this point, this is a private matter."

"One Harry already knows about," Ron interrupted. "Can we go to St Mungo's or not?" the red haired young wizard asked almost petulantly but the tone and the question cut through any budding arguments. Really, it didn't matter who knew or not at this point in time. It had happened and he wanted, needed to see his mum. Ginny nodded from the side, her eyes already red.

It took some scrambling but they were allowed to floo from the Headmasters office and after Harry had given Ginny one last comforting embrace, the two red heads disappeared into the green fires. Harry glared at Dumbledore and Fawkes before he stalked out, not willing to discuss anything yet.

He needed to work out some stress and Draco better be up for it.

Garrick Ollivander Libratum Filius,

There is no missing material in the mortal realm.

All were asked, including all progeny. Nothing has been given.

Maximum Concilio Tenshi

Ollivander look with some puzzlement the parchment in his hands. He knew what the words said but they didn't make any sense. The council said that they had checked with every one and that no one had given a feather to anyone in the mortal realm. That was worrying, more worrying than he had liked to consider.

He supposed that the Dark Lord could have received an heirloom but the feather had seemed too fresh for that. Could someone have lied? And if they had, then what was their motivation? The watcher frowned, shaking his head and closing silver eyes as he thought about the situation.

The feather was not old, it was fresh moulted but it was also… Ollivander frowned. What was that? It was young. The feather was from a youngling. But if the Council had asked all younglings, who had given it to the Dark Lord? Could there possibly be one that the Council did not know about?

It was true that some adult tenshi were promiscuous with each other, ignoring their mates and bonds and the allegiances of their houses but they were also so careful to ensure that a child was not conceived. And in the event that one was, it was unthinkable that the parents would… would what? Abandon their child in the human world? That was not possible. The energy waves would have been felt. Oh, if there was a child, the matter would either be taken care of quietly, with the child being adopted into one or other clan or there would have been a scandal and the child would have been adopted into a third clan. It didn't matter. Tenshi were like wizards that way, children were to be desired, though they were better than wizards because they did not leave their own in orphanages or such though he was not one to judge.

Ollivander frowned as he focused. It should have been impossible for a child to go unnoticed but for the sake of argument he would pursue the possibility. It just did not hold weight. If there was a child on earth, the power would have been felt. And if there was a child on earth… then the Dark Lord would have been… well… he wouldn't have lost just because of Lucius' Rebellion if the child was with the Dark Lord.

The Lord Voldemort knew better than attempt to keep a tenshi child against their will… so it could not be that. Maybe one of the loyal families had one? No… No wizarding family could have kept a tenshi child secret. Though there was…

There was that time when he'd seen that black wing… They had been young… They had been very young and he had never really heard of any of their species possessing pure wings before they came of age. Most were like him, grey, though some varied more towards the light and some towards the dark and everyone knew that the colour was not absolute. But that boy… his wings had been pure black and he had been fully materialised as energy.

Who were they? And were they the one responsible for giving the Dark Lord a feather? But if that was really a tenshi and not just him dreaming then… where were they from?

Silver eyes closed as he considered it before Ollivander growled. He watched. He saw everything. Yet he was now in the situation where he did not have enough information.

A Shadow whispered. :You could ask you know.:

"I could," the neutral tenshi replied without much surprise, looking over towards the patch of darkness. "But what would be your price?" If they could clear up this issue, and their price was not high… he was sorely tempted to take up the offer. They knew better than to try to seduce him, so this would be a simple information exchange between immortals.

The Shadow chuckled. :All these problems caused by a feather,: it mocked. :It seems fitting that the price to sort it out would be a feather.:

For a moment Ollivander didn't understand, and then he felt a wave of rage settle upon him. They were asking for a feather… for one of his feathers! They knew… they had to know how scandalous that suggestion was. Yet when the Wandmaker looked over at the Shadow, he simply got the impression that it was staring back at him as if they were discussing the weather. "No," he ground the word out through clenched teeth, fighting back the sense of insult he felt.

:But I could explain everything,: the Shadow said, not bothering to hide the laughter in its tone.

"And control everything," he growled the return. So that's what they wanted… leverage… How very interesting? What did he know that they feared?

The Shadow sighed. :The obvious answer never occurred to you, did it?: The darkness questioned.

"Answer?"

:To your questions about the feather in the Dark Lord's possession.:

"So what is the obvious answer?"

:We gave it to him.:

"You gave it to him? Why? How?" The Shadows had given the Serpent Lord the feather? Whose feather was it? Could they have stolen one from someone without them being aware of it? What were they playing at? The questions thundered through his mind, multiplying as each one surfaced and silver eyes bored into the dark form of the Shadow as he willed it to answer. If the Wandmaker had thought that the application of power would get him a faster answer, he wouldn't have hesitated to use it, but he had learned a thing or two about the Shadows over the centuries and the only one with any power over them was their master.

:You didn't bother testing it for charms, did you?: the Shadow returned its own question, laughing outright. :We gave the Dark Lord the feather, because our master needs the wand made from it.:

Ollivander resisted the urge to scream. Their master! It always came back to their master and while he knew exactly who their master was, and what path he would follow, the reasoning behind this escaped him.

The Shadow sighed again. :It's simple,: it spat the words. :The wand is going to someone who is currently in thrall. But while they are happy now in the future they may desire to break that agreement. We like to be prepared for all these little eventualities.:

Eventualities? That was all this was to them? It wasn't just a feather, it was a tenshi feather, and despite the Shadow's explanation, which did hold the ring of truth to it, it explained nothing. Where had they gotten it from? Who had they gotten it from? How did they possess it? It was those answers he craved.

:Do those questions really matter?: the Shadow asked suddenly gentle. :I give you my word that at this point in time, that feather is the only one we possess.:

"That implies you can get more." Once again the words were dragged from him.

:Can get?: the Shadow mimicked his voice. :Of course we can get more. Just like you can get more. I doubt we'd be able to get one again though. That's the difference.:

There was a difference there. It was slender, but it was there. "So who lied to the Council?" Ollivander wasn't sure what he should be feeling about the information he was getting. The Shadows had given the Dark Lord the feather, and they had obviously acquired it in some manner that would no doubt send him reeling. Yet they would not tell him how and he could not even begin to fathom how they might have accomplished such a feat.

The Shadow giggled at his question. :Ollivander,: it said in a somewhat depreciating voice. :I'll tell you many things but you don't really think I'll tell you that, now do you? At least, not without some inducement.:

The Wandmaker smiled grimly. Now that was more like the Shadows he knew. "And on that, the answer is still no." The rejection was automatic.

:Pity. We could have done so much with a truly neutral feather. No matter,: the almost laughing tone faded in a few words and Ollivander was reminded again of exactly how expressive the Shadows could be with just their voice. :Do not ever expect us to tell you how we got that feather though. If anything, if we were you, we'd let the matter drop. No tenshi is screaming about theft, and none of your species has admitted giving one up which should tell even you, who cares naught for scandal, that there is a story behind our acquisition of it. A story that at least one of your race will fight to keep secret.:

Silver eyes narrowed. That was a logical conclusion but they were also right with their assertion that he did not care. Scandal was not his concern. Truth was because in the end, it was the truth he watched for and the truth which could threaten them. "And if you were me," Ollivander parroted their words, "you would know that I cannot let the matter drop. It is vital to my job that I know the truth, so I will continue to seek that truth. If you will not tell me, and I presume that Dark Lord does not know, then there is still one who knows the truth, and I will find them."

:Do what you must Ollivander, but we won't be speaking on this again,: the Shadow seemed to blink inky eyes at him and the Wandmaker knew that in their mind at least, the matter was dropped.

Well for him, it wasn't and now that he knew they were involved, he'd be watching them closer than ever.

Midnight saw Harry standing near the Gryffindor goal posts on the Quidditch Pitch. He stood in the darkest shadow, ready to slink away in case of any surprise. He didn't expect one, but you could never be too sure. Draco was a Slytherin after all, and they were not known for their honourable natures.

He was therefore both surprised and pleased when the blond slouched his way out of the darkness at the far end of the pitch. Perhaps he'd go easy on Draco for actually having the guts to show up… Nah… Harry decided against that. The events of the day had left him wanting to rend something and the blond was a convenient target. Besides, Ron would no doubt appreciate the edited story. It would take his mind off matters.

Not a lot could take Harry's mind off what was troubling him. Despite everything that had happened, every loyalty he had shown, including having a spy in his head, Dumbledore did not trust him, did not treat him as an equal. It was mostly evident in the little things, but today had been major. Dumbledore did not even view him as a person. The Ancient Wizard saw Harry as nothing more than his Weapon and while the black haired boy had agreed to be that weapon, he had never agreed to give up who he was. He should have been told with Ron and Ginny about Molly. He should have been allowed to accompany them but no… He had to remain safe. He had to remain at the Castle where Dumbledore could use him on the off chance that the Dark Lord attacked.

They knew the Dark Lord planned to attack this winter, while the snow was on the ground. Snape had confirmed the glimpse of anticipated memory Harry had seen in Voldemort's mind before the Potion Master was abandoned by the phoenix… but was that a reason to confine him to the castle forever? The Dark Lord may not attack. He knew his plan had been leaked and Voldemort was attacking other places. He could be helping there! Dumbledore knew what he was capable of, so what was behind the need to keep him so… protected? It was as if an invisible buffer had been placed between him and the rest of the world and Harry didn't like it.

He didn't particularly like that Voldemort had allowed the Burrow to be attacked either but the green eyed wizard was saving his anger on that score. He could wait until he was face to face with the Dark Lord to confront him on that and the explanation had better be good, though he suspected he already knew why. While such possessiveness was rather sweet, it was high time that everyone worked out that he was not some possession to be traded. He was Harry Potter and they had better bloody well listen to him or so help them, he would make them listen!

"Hello Draco," Harry stepped forward when the blond looked around.

"There you are," the Slytherin purred and Harry was impressed. Draco had come a long way from the shallow insipid prat he'd first met in Madam Malkins. He was still insipid but he'd developed some depth of character. Either that, or some good acting skills.

"So to the death Draco, or just until you are pommeled into a bloody mess?" Harry offered the choices.

"Potter," the blond drawled. "There's really only one outcome for the two of us."

Harry nodded his agreement. "True. If you are that eager to die, I can oblige."

"I don't think it will be me who ends up all over the grass," Draco laughed bringing his wand up.

"No more banter?" Harry asked, sounding mockingly disappointed.

"What is there to talk about?" Draco asked with a frown. "I already know all the truths you are trying to hide."

"And you did not run tattling to Dumbledore?" Harry grinned. Really that bit was slightly impressive.

"I told you, I will not play your game," Draco snarled, flicking a spell at Harry. It went wide and had never been intended to hit but Harry nodded his reply.

"Perhaps you should," he said. "You never know what might trip me up."

"I know exactly what is going to trip you up, Potter."

"Oh?"

"Me!"

The assurance in the blond's voice was impressive but Harry paid it no heed. Really, Draco was so predictable. Of all the actions he could have taken, remaining silent was the best for Harry, and the blond didn't even realise it. The Slytherin thought it was the right course of action, never realising that just this once, reporting to authority was the path he should take and inwardly Harry grinned. When did wizards become so illogical? How could Draco not realise that he was not a threat? And how could the blond not realise that with the information he possessed, he could become a very large thorn in Harry's side? It was a straight forward deduction yet one Malfoy had not even attempted to make.

:Wizards are stupid,: the Shadows murmured helpfully as the two of them began to exchange charms in earnest, :and Draco is playing his own game.:

:Still?: Harry was incredulous. How could the blond possibly think he had enough force to do anything more than side with one of the larger forces? He might have a hand in the outcome, but it would not be the deciding hand.

:He thinks he has a chance because he is a quarterling.:

:A what?: Sometimes the Shadows made absolutely no sense.

:A quarterling,: they repeated. :The grandson of a union between tenshi and human.:

For a moment Harry froze, though he was careful enough not to let the blond notice. And then he was ducking and weaving without pause as he cast furiously at the Slytherin even as he shouted at the Shadows. :When exactly where you planning on telling me this?:

:About now seemed like the best time,: they replied, apparently unconcerned with his mounting anger.

Harry ground his teeth together. He thought they were beyond this. They had tested him, that was true, but he thought they had gone beyond that stage into working together. So why were they still holding out on him.

:We are not holding out!: The Shadows objected. :Honestly Master, you are our Master! We will do everything in our power to make sure you are happy. But even if we had of told you this earlier, what would it have changed?:

If it had of been any other day, the question probably would have put a leash on his anger. But this was not any other day. Harry had had enough of Dumbledore's manipulation and editing of the truth. He did not need it from those he thought he could trust.

:Leave,: he growled, holding Draco off through sheer force of will. :Do not come back until I call.:

:Master!: the scream was anguished and bore the pain of a thousand souls.

:Leave me!: Harry screamed his own reply. :You lied to me!:

:We did not lie!:

:You did,: the black haired wizard insisted. :Now leave, before I make the order permanent.: He sensed the Shadows scurrying around him, in turmoil and deep inside Harry understood, but his understanding was drowned by anger and he was in no mood to offer them mercy.

He could hear the tears in their voice but it did not move him. :Call Master, and we will come,: the Shadows said simply before they vanished, submitting to an order they hated but had no choice but to obey. When their sense vanished, Harry snarled, surprising the blond who had still been casting at him. The sound was animalistic and uncharacteristically fierce.

"So Draco," Harry spat. "Show me your wings."

Mean place to leave off, I know. But it seemed appropriate.

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