Godric's Gift
A/N: Next Chapter: Here we go! Drop me a review. Italic paragraphs are flashbacks in memory; I think it is self-evident, but just in case. Big thank you to JusticeRings for the Beta help.
From the Guts
A loud thud echoed throughout the large chamber as the body of the raven-haired boy slammed into the ground for the 20th time.
"You have to keep moving, Harry; a stationary target is far too easy to hit," Godric coached. "Take a break. We will run it again in a moment."
"No, do it now; I have to get this." Harry spat, chest heaving as he picked himself up off the floor.
The portrait nodded gravely, and three training dummies sprung to life, fanning out, attempting to encircle the boy.
Fighting through the exhaustion that gripped his body. Harry willed his legs to move, backing up to avoid being encircled. Harry dove to his right, rolling to avoid the hex that came from the dummy on his left.
"Reducto" Harry shouted, anger thick in his voice.
The dummy on his right was utterly obliterated by the curse that ripped through Harry's wand. Harry did not pause to admire his work; he kept moving, refusing to be outflanked.
"Reducto," he roared again, this time missing his target.
In the time it took him to cast his second spell, two spells hurtled toward him. Instinct and trained seeker reflexes came to his aid as he whipped his left arm around, jettisoning a glistening sword from its holster into his hand. Both spells deflected off of the blade, and Harry kept moving to try to get into a better position to strike.
Stupefy, Harry shouted again, connecting with the central dummy in front of him. The mannequin slumped, and Harry twisted around to guard against the final combatant. Unused to the weight of the sword, he overbalanced, and stumbled. The final mannequin did not miss, and Harry was blasted to the ground by what Godric called a "stinging hex". He swore loudly, from frustration, not pain.
"Run it again," Harry said without looking at the portrait.
"Come here, Harry," Godric said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Sighing deeply, the raven-haired boy walked from the sparing field over to the portrait, barely glancing at Godric's face.
"You need to breathe, child," Godric said kindly.
"I'm not a child," Harry responded bitterly. "Apparently, I'm seventeen, or at least that's what the bloody Goblet of Fire thinks, not that anyone else does" Harry finished thinking of the biting words of Fleur the night before.
"Ow can you allow thees to appen" Fleur said, her voice filled with emotion "he is but a child, and now e must face these dangers with adult wizards."
Harry grimaced. He was not a child; having recently watched the memories of the horrors he had faced in the past, Harry felt indignant at the implication.
"The Headmaster cannot be solely to blame; Potter has proven truly exceptional in both rule-breaking and attention-seeking. The only areas he could be considered anything other than mediocre." Snape spat, reveling in Harry's humiliation.
"That is enough, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly. "Harry, did you place your name in the cup? Or did you ask an older student to place your name in?"
"No, Sir," Harry responded, meeting his Headmaster's eyes.
"Albus, of course, this boy is lying." Madame Maxine.
"I'm not a liar." Harry spat, his anger boiling over. He was so tired and so angry; why did this keep happening to him? Why was he never believed?
"Albus Dumbledore is perhaps the best legillimens the country; I would not doubt his word, said Mad Eye Moody firmly." "I don't see how a fourteen-year-old could produce a confundus charm powerful enough to hoodwink an artifact like the Goblet of Fire."
"You seem to have given the matter quite a bit of thought." Igor Kakaroff huffed
"It was once my job to think like Dark wizards do, or have you forgotten Kakaroff."
"Alastor," Dumbledore said firmly.
"I don't want to compete; I forfeit," problem solved. Harry said.
"I am afraid it is not that simple, Mr. Potter. Your name has come out; therefore, you have entered into a binding magical contract; if you do not compete, you could lose your magic and perhaps your life." Barty Crouch said.
"How can I be in a contract if I didn't put my name in?" Harry asked.
"Perhaps you are telling the truth; it is possible the Goblet will recognize that, and you will not be punished," Crouch said. "If the Goblet is confunded as Mr. Moody says, it may not recognize that you would be taking an incredible risk."
At this, Harry fell silent for the rest of the meeting; the nasty looks, and the insinuations, left Harry absolutely numb.
"Do not think I insult you by calling you child."Said Godric snapping Harry from his memory. I know the path you've walked, and you've shouldered a burden under which most men would crumple." Godric finished kindly.
"Fat lot of good it's done me; they all think I am some attention-seeking liar," Harry said.
"Are you?" Godric asked.
"Of course not," Harry replied.
"Pay them no mind. They speak what they do not know, and their only power over you is that which you give them." Godric said.
Harry thought for a moment. Weighing the wisdom of the portrait's words. He could not care less what Snape or Kakaroff thought; Dumbledore seemed to believe him. But Fleur? And Ron.
How'd you do it? Fred and George chortled in unison.
Clearly, they saw this evening as a cause for celebration, and many of his house members agreed. Butterbeer and other beverages were being drunk in excess, and his housemates were marveling at the Boy-Who-Lived once again managing to pull off the "impossible".
"I didn't" was all he could muster. He was so very tired, having come from the antechamber after several more minutes of interrogation and insinuations. All he wanted was the escape of his four-poster bed. His house had other ideas; everyone wanted a piece of him. They wanted to ask how he fooled Dumbledore, how he fooled the Goblet, and what he was going to do with his winnings. None of them wanted to hear his defense or recognize the danger he was in. Someone put his name in the cup. Someone, who Harry was certain, did not mean him well.
Harry tried to escape to a corner where he saw Ron and Hermione talking in hushed serious voices. He went to them, hoping to take solace in his friends. His hope was smashed when his best mate opened his mouth.
"Had something you wanted to tell me, huh? Said it could wait? Honestly, Harry, you knew I wanted to enter, and you did it on your own without me? I thought you were my friend. Damnit, you get everything." Ron said, feelings of betrayal thick in his voice.
"Ron!" Hermione began.
"Save it, Hermione. I don't want to hear it from either of you." Ron finished storming off towards the dormitory.
"Harry, I'm so sorry, don't worry about Ron, he's just shocked, and he misunderstood. Of course, you didn't enter; it was so obvious when your name was called. The cup clearly malfunctioned. Hermione said reassuringly.
Harry sighed deeply; at least someone believed him.
"It's not fair, I'm not a liar, and I don't deserve to be thought of as one, especially by people I care about," Harry responded.
"Quite true," Godric said. "You, more than most, know how cruel and unfair life can be, but you've no control over them. You cannot make them see the truth, and you certainly cannot make them see it as soon as they should. You only add to your suffering by attempting to try."
"So what? I just ignore them? Cut myself off from people? I can't live that way. I know what isolation is; I don't want that again." Harry replied.
"Nor should you," Godric said. "But you said yourself that Hermione believed you. You said that Dumbledore believed you, and when you described Miss Delacour's actions, I do not think you can be certain as to what she believes. You have not talked to her yet."
"What should I do then?" Harry asked quietly.
"Breath and wait. Everyone's emotions are high at the moment. People say and do foolish things they regret when they are shocked. Think as little as possible of those who speak against you. They do not know what they are talking about and do not deserve your attention. In time it will get better." Godric said.
"How do you know?" Harry asked.
"Because you are telling the truth, Harry, and the truth is a very powerful thing," Godric responded.
Harry nodded, not sure if he was comforted or not. After a moment, Godric continued.
"You moved much better that time." Godric praised.
"I still failed," Harry replied glumly.
"Do you know why?" Godric asked.
Harry paused, reconsidering the battle. Then answered: "I missed my second spell giving the two time to press their advantage on me, and I tripped when I tried to use the sword."
"Correct, but against three dummies, you shouldn't have needed the sword. You should not have missed. Why did you miss?" Godric asked.
"I mean, I didn't mean to." Harry defended.
"No doubt," Godric replied. "But before your name came out of that Cup, I watched you hit target after target without missing. Today, you're blasting targets into dust but aiming worse than a blind troll."
"Well, I'm angry," Harry responded.
"And you think you'll be calm during the tasks of the Triwizard Tournament? With insults being hurled at you? Or what about if Pettigrew attacks you? Or this Voldemort when he rises again?" Godric said seriously. "Blasting dummies to blow off steam is fine on your own time, but it does nothing to hone your skills as a fighter. So, do the exercise again, but this time I want to see your control, magical and emotional."
"How do I do that?" Harry asked, frustrated. "My world is in chaos."
"The world is always in chaos," Godric said. "You hold the power to shape the chaos, to order it and mold it as you see fit, but that requires an ordered mind and fixed intent." Godric continued. "Close your eyes, Harry. I want you to focus on your breathing. Count to seven as you breathe in, hold for seven, then exhale for seven." Godric finished
Harry inhaled deeply, feeling strange as he did but deciding to give it a try. He held, and he released. He did so again and again; as he repeated the slow, rhythmic breathing, he began to relax, tension releasing that he had no idea was there. After several minutes Godric spoke again.
"Keep your eyes closed, focus on your breathing, and I want you to cast the lumos spell."
Lumos, Harry muttered.
Though almost imperceptible, Harry felt a trickle of energy leave his belly, travel up into his arm, and out of his wand. He did not need to open his eyes to know his wand was lit.
"Did you feel the magic?" Godric asked.
"I did," Harry responded. "It flowed out from my stomach area up into my arm, it was faint, but I definitely recognized it."
"It's quite incredible what a quiet mind can perceive. What you felt was your magical core; it sounds as if you're a gut caster which is not surprising after seeing your memories. You intuit situations and act on instinct leaping before looking—a man of action." Godric mused.
Harry pondered this information. He recalled professor McGonagall talking about certain spells being impossible before one's magical core matured; he'd never heard of it existing in a part of the body.
"Are peoples magical cores in different places?" Harry asked.
"Indeed," Godric replied. "A person's innate personality and the shape of their experiences lead one's magical core to gravitate into a particular area. It becomes the optimal source from which magic will flow. You described it coming from your stomach, which would make you a "gut caster."
"Where did your magic flow from?" Harry asked.
"Excellent use of grammar, as I am a portrait and thus have no magical core." Godric chortled. "I was a "chest caster" it was my heart that led my will. I felt deeply, and those feelings drove and animated the purposes and actions of my life; thus, my chest was the natural place for my magical core to manifest." Godric replied.
"So you cast from the heart?" Harry asked.
"Not quite; the heart and the chest, while similar, are different. The chest is the stable link from the intellect to the instinct; it guards, protects, and is powered by the heart, but it is more. A well-formed chest is feeling tempered by habit into stable purpose." Godric said.
"What is the difference between a chest caster and a gut caster?" Harry asked.
"Externally, very little, but knowing from where your magic flows helps you to know where you will be naturally strong and naturally weak, invaluable for training purposes. As a gut caster, you will thrive in high-pressure situations where you have little time to think and react. Nonverbal magic will be difficult for you in low-intensity environments as it requires mental focus not naturally developed by those who intuit as gut casters do. But, once you manage it, the possibilities will be endless. Gut casters can bend magic without incantations far easier than any others; when you need it, your magic will come with far more power than you could imagine. Think of the patronus you produced. It drove away a hundred dementors because you needed it to; that is gut-casting at its finest. Chest casting, on the other hand, is ordered and precise. It balances the animal and the spirit drawing from both and depending on neither. I could not move mountains on instinct, but my magic never failed me, and it followed the purposes which I set for it."
"Are there other types?" Harry asked.
"Yes, I would bet a large sum of money your friend Miss Granger when she matures, will eventually be a head caster. Her intellect and understanding of a magical theory will dictate her ability and proficiency at casting. Such persons are marvelous students, as the educational system is designed to their strengths. However, their ability to act under pressure and resilience in the face of adversity and danger will be challenges they will have to overcome. Deeds worth doing are rarely rational." Godric finished with a chuckle. "There are more, but they are variations of the three major types."
"Truly, this is fascinating, but how does this help get better magically or train better?" Harry asked curiously.
Ahh yes! Now that you know from where your magic flows, you can begin to feel it as you cast. If your mind is still and your intent clear, you can bend the magic towards your target, willing it to strike. Mastering this flow is the first step to mastering nonverbal and intent-based magic. And for those very blessed, wandless magic. For now, I want you to focus on your accuracy. No longer will you aim your spells like a muggle aims a bow and arrow. Bend your magic to the target, and it will strike true." Godric finished.
Harry nodded and breathed deeply, ready for the attempt.
Feeling for his magic, Harry watched the combatants spread out and come towards him. He was calm, much calmer than last time; he moved to his right and fired off a stunner to the center dummy, trying to feel the magic leave his gut and will it to make contact. He was not disappointed, the spell hit true, and Harry whirled to his right to dodge the first spell cast in his direction. Acting on instinct, Harry fired two stunning spells quickly toward where he thought the mannequin was and focused hard on it, hoping one of the spells would hit. He then faced the last dummy. Sidestepping its hex and firing a stunning spell which took it out. Harry roared in triumph before being blasted from behind and falling over.
"Damnit!" Harry roared. Clearly, his two stunners failed to reach their target.
"Better," Godric praised. "But you lost focus when you flung yourself out of the way of the first spell." Sidestep, and open your body to make yourself smaller; no need to whirl or pirouette. Stay calm and stay connected to your core."
Harry nodded and began to breathe again, shaking off the frustration and searching within himself to find the seat of his magic.
Three dummies sprang to life and once again began to encircle Harry. Breathing deeply, Harry sent out a stunner to his left. Not looking but willing the magic to flow from his arm. He heard the dummy crumple. Two hexes flew towards him; Harry sidestepped both in a fluid motion Feeling the stunner flow through his body and out his arm, hearing the mannequin in the center crumple. Without pause Harry slashed his wand and felt the harsher reducto curse fly through him and blast the final dummy away. Harry was amazed at how simple it had been. No dodges or rolls, three spells, three hits, no fear or anger, just calm, precise movements and actions.
"Harry, that was outstanding," Godric praised.
"Thanks, it was amazing, each spell felt different, and I did not need to look; I knew each one would connect. Why has no one taught me this before?" Harry asked excitedly.
"It is not a skill all can develop. There are two ways of connecting with one's magical core; one takes years of meditation and self-examination to know your body and mind so thoroughly that you will recognize the slightest alterations in your physiology that results from casting magic. One can then study those changes and find their magical core.
"And the other?" Harry asked.
"Suffering," Godric said simply.
"What?" Harry asked, confused.
"There is no greater teacher in self-knowledge than suffering." Godric replied. "Facing loss and rejection, fear and pain, and life and death gives one invaluable insight into who they are."
"How can "knowing myself" give me knowledge of my magical core?" Harry asked, still confused.
"How can a wand and a word bend reality to your will?" Godric asked, a smile breaking across his face.
Harry was taken aback, never truly having considered the question. It was a good one.
"I guess I don't know, it does though, if you do it properly," Harry answered.
"Quite right, Harry," Godric replied. "What I want you to do from now on is to practice the breathing exercise I taught you every morning and night and anytime you feel strong emotions flaring. The pause will help you recognize what is going on in your internal life."
"Considering I have Potions twice this week, I imagine I'll get lots of practice." Harry grimaced.
"Ahh, the potions master, a brilliant brewmiester from what I have observed; not sure how suited he is to teaching," Godric remarked.
"He hates me because of a grudge he holds against my dead father," Harry said glumly.
"How terribly sad," Godric said.
"Sad? It's bloody infuriating, is what it is," Harry spat.
"No doubt for you, I am sure. But bitterness is drinking poison and waiting for your enemy to die. One would expect a potions master to be adept at avoiding poisons, but if you are correct, Mr. Snape seems to be thoroughly addicted." Godric said seriously. Regardless, Harry, you must learn emotional control. A desperately difficult task for one at your age and hormone level, but one that you either learn or die. Others may treat you in all sorts of wicked ways; let it roll off of you, find your center, and focus on your purpose and the tasks ahead of you. They want your reactions; deny them what they are after." Godric finished.
"I'll try," Harry said.
"That's all I ask of you, Harry. Now go; it won't due to hide and skip your classes; hold your head high and take comfort in the truth no one can take it away from you." Godric said fiercely.
Harry nodded and exited The Lookout, ready to face whatever was to come.
oOOOo
Some Godric/Harry Development! Review and tell me what you think! Next time we'll see what Fleur really thinks after the shock has worn off.