Chapter 8. forewarned, cleared and trained
Goldcrest perch, isles of Scilly, June 25th 1994
"so tell me honestly, Longhurst Black, what secret schemes are you aware of? Seriously, it cannot be just Dumbledor or these Dursley folks?" – Regulus had Marcus cornered, using the excuse of Harry being sound asleep and Alexa tending to the garden. It was an early morning, but neither of the two felt like sleeping in, even after a grueling flight the previous day. Before turning in for the night, Longhurst had blirted something about secret schemes at Hogwarts, and the unspeakable felt the need to know all about it.
"don't call me that, Goldcrest Black!" – Marcus mock growled, and was rewarded with his coffee cup promptly turning into a falcon. "yes, I mean no, it's more than these… people. Harry needs to be trained, as much as possible."
"for whatever reason", - Regulus sighed, only now noticing one of his safety features in action. "never, ever call me Goldcrest in my house", - his own cup transformed. "for whatever reason. What sort of training?"
The next hour was spent discussing the impossible. Armed with knowledge of thirty years into the future, Marcus revealed what had to be secret ministry information, but will not be anymore due to his accidental time travelling escapades. everything, from the death eater posing as a professor at Hogwarts, to the deadly Triwizard tournament being revived, to that same death eater forcing Harry into the competition, then using him to resurrect lord Voldemort – a whole coming year was unraveled in front of Regulus, with precision no seer possessed. So much so at the end, the unspeakable's oclumency shields started cracking with shere impossibility of that all; dragons and merpeople and graveyards illuminated by spellfire flashed in his head like muggle movies, too horrible to watch yet too real to ignore. A merely fourteen-year-old boy, no matter how brilliant or well-prepared, had no place in those horrors. On the other hand, changing the past (not letting Harry compete) could change the future in unexpected ways (what do they say about stepping on the butterfly?) so, shoving aside every thought of altering the events of next year, two wizards decided then and there – Harry Potter must be trained.
Same place, August 1st 1994
Harry Potter could be called the happiest child in the wizarding Britain that summer. He had the opportunity not only to forget all about his abusive relatives, but also to undergo a real training with the real unspeakable. yes, he was dead on his feet after every session, and yes, his dreams involved loads of running, flying, swimming and diving, but at least his sleep was nightmare free.
That is, til that particular night.
Harry was flying again, at breakneck speed just above the peaks of passing waves. On the highest cliff in sight stood Regulus, holding a paper boat in one hand and a flute in the other. The foldable slipped and fell into the water; Harry let go of his broom, diving after the boat and… the dream changed.
He was squatting on some sort of chair or throne, with a man cowering beside it. "Barty, your time has come, - he spoke with cold, raspy voice. "I will be strong, we will be strong once again, my faithful servant." an enormous snake slithered into the room, hissing something about a muggle downstairs. Moments later a man, hunched and leaning on a stick, appeared. "be my guest", - that same cold voice came out from (Harrys?) mouth. He raised his wand, sickly green light on its tip…
"no!" Harry jumped bolt upright, sweat pouring from his forehead. His scar, so dorment throughout the year, was throbbing with waves of pain. "no! don't kill him!" Alexa popped into the room, followed by groggy looking Marcus. A potion bottle floated into Harry's hand, which he gratefully accepted. The boy fell asleep again in no time, fortunately without nightmares.
"are you barking mental?!" – Regulus rounded on Marcus in the kitchen. "you should have let me teach the child oclumency as soon as possible! Now look what we have got here – a link with Voldemort no less!"
"shush, you'll wake him!" – the other wizard tried to calm the unspeakable down. "and who is to blame for training him like some navy seal or something? Add oclumency, and we will have to name him the Boy who suffered a burnout in summer."
"right as always", - Regulus sighed in frustration. "just try not looking Harry in the eye til you, or him, learn oclumency. It's for your own safety, Longhurst Black."
At that exact moment, Alexa popped into the kitchen, a tray with two coffee cups and some sandwiches floating behind her. "who shouldn't look whom in the eye?" – she asked seemingly innocently. The wizards exchanged concerned looks, but Marcus, ever the braver one, relayed their previous conversation. The elf just shook her head: "humans, ever so impractical… don't you recognize a horcrux or what?... use a patronus, you windheads!" the last part was said almost aloud, for both wizards fixed their eyes on her, as if she had grown a second head. "a patronus?" – both spoke at the same time. what followed could be described as the strangest lecture either of them had ever listened to: Alexa, having brought a mountain of notes from god knows where, kept them transfixed for a whole hour, explaining all the possible uses of a patronus (repelling dementors not included). Unsurprisingly, this lead to the pair taking only one possible corse of action – try and shut Harrys link with Voldemort.
"are you ready?" – Marcus asked nervously. it was nearly midday, the best hour to do this, according to Alexa. Harry was half-sitting on a conjured recliner, facing the sun, two adults standing at the either side. It took them only a few minutes to explain everything, minus the horcrux (no need for the boy to be terrified). Having learned the Patronus charm himself last year just for the fun of it (and it made relaying messages so much easier) he knew the gist of what will happen. "go on", - he replied, relaxing into the chair. Two wands rose above his head, two voices incanted: "Expecto patronum!" a donkey (really?) followed by a fainter dog burst out of Marcus's wand, and Regulus released a falcon. Both wizards guided their guardians towards Harrys forehead and the scar, by now illuminated by bright sunlight. Then all hell broke loose: first, the donkey kicked furiously at the very center of the scar, causing it to open without drawing blood; a black cloud rose just above it, hissing and chirning, holding onto the skin with impossible strength. The dog and the falcon took hold of it, biting and pecking, pulling with all their mite, as if playing some spiritual tug of war. Harry screamed in pain, the adults staggered with tiredness but held their wands steady. Finally, after what looked like hours, the invisible string snapped. the cloud shot upright with an inhuman whaile, but was swiftly caught by Regulus's falcon and disintegrated in a sworl of light. Harry fell unconscious, the adults also looked on the verge of collapsing, despite of it being only noon. Feeling their magic being significantly lo
wered (that's why no one used a patronus method for extracting horcruxes), and ordering the elf to watch over the child, the two wizards went to sleep til next morning. Alexa conjured an umbrella and settled next to recovering boy. "be forewarned, cleared and trained, Harry Potter, the next year awaits", - she whispered, before setting an elven monitoring charm and floating off to search for more work.