Thorns and blossoms

Once again, Harry came to realise just how different these holidays had proven to be. Longingly, he remembered his dreams about spending days without a break in the library, delving blissfully into the depths of hidden knowledge stored away in the Black Collection. He certainly had not expected to pass every day of his holidays on edge. Or worse yet, have edges of blades passing him every day.

'Get up, Harry! We're definitely not done yet, so move your lazy bum!' commanded Aenor from the other side of the room.

And he did try to move. Once he put a bit of weight on his left leg, however, he let out an involuntary grunt and immediately plopped back onto the floor. Hesitantly, he inspected his knee, only to look away again at once, fighting the bile rising in his throat. Damn! Sometimes I'd rather like to see red instead of white.

Concentrating hard, he flicked his wand. A thick darkness descended and shrouded Harry like a garb made of the void. Silently, all the while cursing his wound, he crawled towards a column behind which he tried to steady his breathing. For a fraction of a second, he allowed his Occlumency to ease up. Amongst the background noise of his own darkness, a brilliant pillar of ravaging magic stood in the middle of the room without moving an inch. Occasionally, small tendrils of black and gold seemed to creep along the floor. All of a sudden, an explosion of light of such ferocity that he feared to have suffered lasting damage to his eyes forced Harry to bring his senses back under control.

'That is a neat trick, Harry. I'm impressed how I cannot cancel the spell, vanish the effect, part the darkness or siphon it away. I even just tried igniting it all, but I do admit that was more out of boredom. It also seems to create a lot of magical traces all around the room that somewhat hinder my efforts at locating you. I am, however, forced to wonder if this situation may not in fact be to my advantage. Not to make you worry, Harry, but joint injuries can be really painful. I wouldn't be surprised if you eventually retched all over your beautiful marble as soon as the rush of adrenaline recedes a bit. Maybe we should speed things up a bit, in your own interest, of course.'

The voice had a conversational quality, seemed perfectly calm and would not have been out of place at a poetry reading for bored wives of rich old men.

'Diffindo!' cried the same voice suddenly.

Harry groaned softly as he heard at least a dozen powerful cutting curses bounce all around the chamber. Somehow, his opponent seemed to have made them last really long, too. Twenty seconds later, the ruckus still had yet to calm down in the slightest; it was only a matter of time before he would be hit by a stray. Just as he was considering putting up a shield, a menacing ray of pink light shot through the darkness before him. Harry crouched down and traced his knee with his wand again and again. Shielding himself would make him a sitting duck, as he was unable to cast anything else while controlling his Shield Charm.

Okay, let's try to formulate a strategy. She's much more powerful than you. She knows immeasurably more spells than you. You cannot fight her straight up, else you succumb to her attacks on your mind within a minute, even if she holds back. Delaying tactics do not work either, as she has proven to be easily capable of deconstructing your shields, in contrast to those stupid Puffs. She has more experience than you. She knows more about your magic than you about hers. She immediately grasped the structure of the room we are in, so any advantage I would've had in that area was nullified within the first twenty seconds. Kind of not looking good so far. My only advantage is that she agreed not to move for the entire thing. Yet none of my own spells have managed to penetrate even her first layer of defence...

He continued to move his wand up and down his knee and relaxed a bit as the pain did not seem as tormenting any more. I only need to get one hit!

Concentrating his vision on his wand, he was startled that his faithful companion didn't seem perturbed by this situation at all. Quite the contrary, he got the distinct impression that it would be very pleased if he managed to overcome his unfair disadvantage by any means possible.

Well, if you insist. I doubt Grandfather will agree, but whatever. And I really don't want to lose after nothing but pathetic fleeing!

He abandoned his attempt to tend to his wound and laid his wand down in front of him. After rummaging through the pockets of his robes, he held a small vial of dark violet liquid in his shaking hands. Harry couldn't tell if it was hesitation, anticipation or reluctance that stayed his hands for a few moments, but in the end, he broke the vial at his feet as silently as possible and began to work.

Thinking about the predominant doctrine regarding the Dark Arts and the usual preconceptions about their practitioners, Harry had to fight down a laugh. Here he was, staying in his ancient and grand home over the summer, practising dangerous magic all day long in grizzly duels until finally succumbing to the Arts. It was a bit worrying how many clichés he confirmed at this point in time. Harry also had to admit that even with a good solicitor, the fictional sentence for the magic he was about to invoke would stack up to at least a few years in solitary confinement. Well, no matter. If she survives, she'll have to admit that I got a hit in. If not...Let's not think about that for now!

Harry knew this to be a true all-in. He didn't have his dragon-hide gloves with him, and the poison in the slightly diluted blood would finish him in a few minutes. The spell he was trying to cast would hardly last ten seconds, so he saw no problem with that, as the elves that were bound to the estate would sense him weakening...probably. He was only able to replicate the first two stages of the attack, though it would still be quite dangerous indeed. Harry mixed his own blood, which he incidentally had in good supply, into the small puddle at his feet, and instantly, he could feel something alien tugging at his senses, but he resisted the pull as best as he could. Shadows seemed to dance around his fingers and the blotch on the floor. Thank Merlin, he hadn't forgotten the small casket of different inks this time and wouldn't have to resort to writing in his own blood again. He didn't think using magic with the intent to summon or create would mix well with using his own blood as a catalyst. He had heard gruesome stories about the foolish witches and wizards who'd tried these sort of things...

Hastily, he drew four rings of slightly pulsating blue runes around the puddle.

Submission /\ Contract /\ Guidance /\ Foe

These runes were repeated dozens of times, as if in silent prayer. Strictly speaking, they weren't necessary, but he'd rather not fall victim to his own creations.

'I'm getting a bit bored over here, Harry. So I thought you might want to know that I intend to end this in twenty seconds,' Aenor parenthetically called out.

Trying not to think about what that devious witch could do to instantly end the match, Harry quickly drew connections from the puddle in the middle to each of the surrounding layers of runes.

'Ten, nine, eight...'

Harry pushed his hand fiercely into the blotch of mixed blood and started concentrating hard, remembering the feeling of losing oneself in absolute darkness, recalling the thrill of the unknown, bringing the voices of those unspeakable things back to his mind...

'Five, four...'

Before Aenor could finish her countdown, Harry was done.

Without a warning, the darkness seemed to stir in vivification. Fuzzy shapes. A whirlwind of black shadows. Harry fought hard against the nameless strain on his magic, willing his eyes to remain open, while the whole room seemed to blur and stretch with a sound like a ruler being drawn alongside a sharp edge. Harry was sure that this wasn't only his exhaustion playing tricks on him, as something erupted from between his fingers, and he couldn't help but shiver slightly and squelch the nausea as well as he could.

Ripples of dread permeated the air. He thought he saw something slither at the edge of his vision, but it was far too quick for him to follow. Hectically looking around, Harry's eyes went wide when he felt himself get clammy, and he backed off towards the corner of the room. The books hadn't mentioned this. Some kind of parasitic noise began to echo in his mind, while his whole vision started spinning. Harry quivered as something detached itself from the wall above him and flew blindingly fast towards another corner of the room. In terror, he felt all the candles and oil lamps in the room flicker and die. Dozens of assailants clawed against the defences of his mind, like fingernails on a blackboard; it was the icy feeling of panic all animals felt in the gaze of a deadly predator.

'What the...!' For the first time, Aenor's voice laid bare a small amount of trepidation.

Harry raised his wand towards the middle of the room and shouted, 'Silencio Totalum! Reducto!'

He had originally hoped to be able to hold on for ten seconds, but it had barely been four, and he could feel his hold slipping fast. Damn it! All or nothing now.

Channeling all his remaining willpower and ignoring the white dots obscuring his vision, he raised his shaking hand once more. 'Oppugno!'

Immediately, his eyes drooped, but he thought he felt an alien explosion of pure magic, laced with rage as well as-incomprehensibly-happiness and amazement before his mind was submerged into enveloping darkness of a different sort...

~BLHD~

As Harry came to, his first impression was that, for some reason, his face hurt – a lot. He opened his eyelids just in time to see Aenor slap him again.

He recoiled and tried to move away. 'Hey, stop that! Merlin, that really hurts, woman.'

'So good to see you up and about again, Harry. I never estimated you to be so rash, you know. But for whatever reason, the hitherto cool and collected Harry Black just made a very good attempt to end the duel with a suicide move.' Aenor's voice was soft, but the scolding seemed earnest. 'What would you have done if that move of yours had really managed to overwhelm me? Poisoning yourself with a desperate last-ditch attempt practically screams Gryffindor, you know?' She threateningly raised her hand again and glowered. 'Do not ever do that again, do you understand me? Especially not in a mock duel, you stupid brat! Swear to me right now!'

Harry threw his hands before his face, but couldn't help agreeing with her on the inside. He had indeed acted very much out of character. He'd never have imagined that his drive to win the bet would push him so much. Harry also vaguely remembered his wand agreeing with his assessment, whereas right now it only hummed innocently in his hand, spreading the welcome and familiar warmth that he loved so much throughout his body. He nodded towards Aenor.

She slowly shook her head and sat down not too far from him. Now that his vision had completely cleared up again, he could see that her clothes were in tatters. He couldn't spot even a trace of red, but she did look distinctly dishevelled.

Suddenly, Aenor exploded in laughter, as if the serious warning from before was all but a distant memory. It was that laugh, the annoying one that somehow urged him to go along with her, Harry noticed.

'I never would have believed you would sic Lethifolds on me! Nor would I have thought it possible, to be completely honest. Your strange Darkness Charm must have enable them to survive here for a few moments, I assume? Trying to silence the area around me also kind of gave me the impression that you were earnestly trying to kill me, you know? It's difficult enough to anticipate their attacks in complete darkness, but I confess I was a bit annoyed with you when I suddenly felt a whole pack of them mere inches all around me.' She turned towards him and impishly asked, 'Do you so badly wish to make this world a less beautiful place, Harry?'

Harry felt his face grow hot. Aenor's robes were quite damaged and revealed a lot more than he was comfortable with. He quickly averted his gaze.

'I'm so sorry that I cannot take you completely seriously, Aenor. If your Cutting Curses had hit my neck or throat, I would probably have died before you could even have realised what had happened.'

'Don't be like that, Harry. Whining is unbecoming of you. But how did you do it? I've never heard of a spell that can summon Lethifolds. Granted, it would probably not exactly be featured in the Standard Book of Spells, but still. I've read a few books on such matters, you know.'

'How did you get rid of them? I faded relatively quickly after forcing them all towards you, but I don't think you cast a Patronus to make them retreat, did you?'

'How about this?' She stood up and reseated herself directly in front of him. 'I tell you what I did, and you tell me what you did?'

That seemed fair to Harry, so he nodded while trying to pretend that he couldn't see down her décolletage.

'Great! As I'm so much more mature than you, I'll even start. I relatively quickly came to the conclusion that you had either summoned Lethifolds or imitated their aura somehow, as I did have one nasty encounter with them in the past - thanks for reminding me, by the way. I was slightly distracted because I wondered if you yourself would be able to repel them, but I noticed your Silencing Charm, of course, so I assumed you would be fine for the moment. Your Reducto did nothing but delay my attempt to dispel the silencing, which probably was your purpose in hindsight. The moment I felt them behind me, I knew I'd be too late to cast the Patronus, especially against half a pack of them. However, there is a second way to defend against Lethifolds and Dementors, though it is rarely taught, considering its difficulty and relative uselessness in open warfare. If you force your mind into the required state of love, you can try to lash out with your magic. It is not exactly a spell per se, more of a burst of magic enriched with the thoughts and feelings on the surface of your mind. It is also rather restricted in its range. You likely felt it even, if you were still conscious at that point. Imagine it like a reverse attempt at Legilimency. One may, however, only utilise this technique if one has enough natural affinity for these sorts of magics. Your turn, Harry.'

Harry nodded silently. What she'd said had given him something to think about, but he would have to ponder these things at a later point in time.

'I realised you heavily outmatched me in every effort I could likely make. After you practically chopped my knee in two, avoiding you was rendered impossible as well. The darkness I invoked is primarily a means to veil my presence. It's…not something I am at liberty to discuss. The, eh, spell to call in the Lethifolds is a bit of...well, it is part of a rather obscure branch of magic not widely known or appreciated. You were right in assuming that I would likely not have been able to defend myself against a pack of Lethifolds, so I enlaced the summoning with four layers of runes that directed them to attack you as their first target and me as the second. I was not able to replicate the last step of the attack, as it is currently beyond my means. That last step I mentioned is also the nastiest and would likely have been ill-advised to use in training.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Ill-advised in comparison to setting a pack of Lethifolds on your innocent practice partner?'

Harry shrugged. 'The instructions advised the practitioner to lock his victim in a battle for the supremacy of his mind after summoning the Lethifolds. Even if the opponent should prove to be the better Mindmage, the attempt alone would likely render him unable to plunge deep enough into his own consciousness to search for a sufficient memory for the Patronus, therefore making him helpless against the creatures.'

Aenor's eyes shone with excitement. She crept half an inch towards him and readjusted her pose. Merlin, that women knows how precarious her robes look right now, doesn't she?

'What kind of nasty books do you read anyway, Black? This is not the kind of stuff an innocent first year should browse in his bed.' She assumed an expression of severe disappointment, and her doleful eyes seemed close to tears. A sudden and irrational impulse to comfort her sprang to his mind, before Harry forced himself to look away. 'So, in summary, Harry: you just attacked your poor Defence against the Dark Arts instructor with a sure-fire method to kill powerful magicals, while surrendering your young mind to the very Dark Arts your innocent and good-willed professor tries to protect you from? I–I really am kind of overwhelmed by this, you know?'

Her voice was so heavily drenched in deep remorse, sorrow and pity that Harry couldn't help but turn his head towards her again – where he saw her sporting a huge smile like the dawn of a thousand suns. She reached out and affectionately tousled his hair.

'That was awesome!' Aenor exclaimed excitedly. 'I'm really proud of you, Harry. A surprisingly good showing. I would never have believed that you'd be able to push me like that.'

Harry was dumbstruck and inspected her face very carefully, but she seemed absolutely honest this time. He wasn't sure if he should be happy or sad about that.

'Yep, you are definitely worth every second of my time.' Her radiant smile was so stunningly in contrast to her usual cool that Harry could not help but gape somewhat stupidly at her while she caressed his head. Indeed, he was so perplexed that he didn't even register how close she was.

After several moments Aenor retracted her hand and looked him in the eye. Her own piercing light-blue eyes were still shining with excitement and joy.

'I was also completely in awe that you were able to somewhat ease the injury to your knee. When did you pick that up? For some stupid reason, it's not actually taught at Hogwarts, as far as I know, right?'

He shifted in his seat nervously and contemplated diverting the issue, but Aenor's eyes illuminated his face in such obvious delight that he felt himself unable to put in the effort. 'I observed Madam Pomfrey's work whenever I was forced to submit myself to her ministrations. She, er, also recently agreed to tutor me a bit on these matters after witnessing my affinity for the Healing Art.'

Aenor beamed as if she had found a fancy oyster on the beach which she had later discovered to contain a beautiful treasure of the ocean.

'A very good idea. Pomfrey is easily one of the more proficient masters of her craft I have seen.' Slowly, her exuberance settled down a bit, though she still looked quite fevered indeed.

'There is only one question left, I guess. For a first year you are remarkably potent in the ways of Charms, especially barriers and shields. Your potential for magics of the mind is probably right up there, too, considering most people just succumb to the aura of the Lethifolds; fainting, getting permanently traumatised, or dying altogether if the pack is too numerous, old, powerful or any combination of those.'

Harry's eyes widened with horror. The book hadn't mentioned that at all!

'And I have actually never seen a fourteen-year-old heal a wound of a joint, even if you couldn't finish the job,' Aenor continued. 'I am also very pleased that you don't exclude any possible avenue magic might offer you, even if the method in question might be a bit controversial.

'But why do you limit yourself in the selection of your offensive spells? In all our practices so far, you've never used anything but fairly advanced defensive spells in concert with frankly inferior, offensive wand work. You've used nothing more potent than the Reductor Curse or an underwhelming Stupefy all this time. Why is that, Harry?'

Harry finally managed to rein in his eyes and look towards his wand. But he didn't like talking about that specific topic. Though he had come to trust Aenor to a certain extent, her drive and motivation still eluded him. He settled on a half-truth.

'It is a matter of personal preference, I guess. The magics you described come to me easily, while some others don't. I can learn six charms in the time it took me to somewhat master the Reductor Curse. In the end, I just thought I could get more of an edge if I heavily specialised in the fields that come to me naturally.'

Aenor seemed satisfied and nodded simply. 'I recently lectured the masses about the strength of wizards before the holidays, and I was even completely serious back then. While I urge you to not rely on a specific single specific field of magic, as every one of them does have its weakness, I do not think you may run into that situation all too often, as Charms, magics of the mind, Runes, Healing Arts and what you refer to as 'the obscure branch of magic many people do not appreciate' cover a wide field of applicability, so you should be more than fine. It is also true that you likely will have an easier time overwhelming all but the most experienced of wizards of witches if you manage to surpass the common knowledge in a given field of magic. Dumbledore, for example, may just be the most gifted master at Transfiguration the magical world has seen in at least four centuries. This in combination with his outstanding skills in other crafts, his brilliant mind and the deep knowledge he hoards makes him a truly powerful wizard. You don't have to master everything, to be the master of them all, Harry.'

Harry smiled a bit. He had always had his doubts about his limitations in certain branches of magic, but Aenor was right, of course. If you were the only person alive to know how to counter your own transfigurations, how much would it really matter that someone else knew more about Charms than you? At least if you had sufficient mastery to defend against common attacks and would be able to analyse more complicated ones.

'Since I revealed a bit more than I was originally comfortable with, would you mind sharing your evaluation of your own powers, Aenor? I always was very curious.'

She smirked at him, but didn't seem annoyed by his lack of subtlety. 'I'm a bit different, I guess. I have no specialisation or whatever you want to call it, and I pride myself in extensive mastery of most known variations of magic. While I may never reach the heights of a dedicated prodigy, I like to think my broad knowledge gives me the edge in most situations. While the Mind Arts are probably my most developed strength, my personal affinities for Transfiguration, the Dark Arts and Charms are at least good enough to comprehend what a true prodigy does, even if only in hindsight, though I may never be able to replicate Dumbledore's wonders, for example. In short, I normally react to my enemy until I figure out his weakness. At least, if I fight an enemy of worth. The worms that roam the streets I'd likely just blast to bloody bits, and be done with it.'

Harry just looked at her, his face expressionless. 'You know, this is not the first time I thought you pretty scary, Aenor.'

She, however, just smiled for her inscrutable reasons. 'Don't worry, Harry. You are definitely not the common rabble I disdain. Otherwise, I would hardly spend my time with you like this, or indulge your curiosity for that matter.' She stood up and casually held out a hand. 'Now get up, Mr Black. Let's get your leg fixed by that sinister house-elf of yours. I really want to take a shower.'

Hesitantly, he took her hand, but she let go immediately after pulling him up. This somehow annoyed him. She really does make an effort, though.

'Say, you mentioned you had been honest in your advice about the strength of a wizard in that one lesson. Does that mean you usually just tell them some rubbish to pass the time?' He didn't bother hiding the mischievousness and glee he felt.

'You wound me, Harry. But I guess it is true that, in most classes, I just babble a bit about duelling. If I were to speak my mind about certain other matters, I'd probably lose my job as well as my freedom. Not unlike your family, in fact.' Her innocent and slightly flirtatious smirk shone through the room like a torch in the night. Harry wondered, not for the first time, how hard it was to truly listen to her words and not just look at her face.

He sighed and muttered, 'You really are a nasty piece of work, Aenor.'

Her smile grew knowingly, and she gave him a small wink. 'Do not let it worry you, Harry. You're already faring better than most others.'

~BLHD~

Harry sat in a chair close to the fire in the small study. He was very tired, but his mind was still buzzing, trying to process all the information he had received today. Lovingly tracing the fine grain of his wand, he pondered how Aenor's family background was getting even more suspicious by the second. It wasn't as if he didn't reveal just as much to her, but, then again, so much more was publicly known about the Blacks. Any information broker worth his money would've been able to tell her that the Blacks were rumoured to still practice old magic, long forgotten and forbidden.

She seemed neither deterred by this nor surprised. In fact, had it not seemed as if she was particularly pleased today because he had taken an unorthodox approach to their duel?

The whole experience was so weird for Harry. Normally, people would distance themselves from him as soon as they learned of some of the more unpleasant business that took place with the Blacks. Well, unless they are fanatically loyal like Daphne, but Harry had not missed how frightened even she had been when she'd discovered his ward back in September. With Aenor and him, in contrast, it seemed as if they grew ever closer the more they revealed about themselves. He couldn't help but feel grateful for this, as he really liked that part of magic, no matter what he may have told the rest of his family bar Arcturus.

Slowly revolving the lovely wand in his hand, he thought about polishing it again, but, as he had done so only this morning, this seemed a bit excessive, even for him.

'You really do have a connection with your wand, don't you?'

Aenor stood in the doorway. She had evidently just finished her shower and was only wrapped in a flimsy towel that hid her features as much as it outlined them.

'W-Wh-What are you doing, Aenor? Please put on some clothes. I'm sure we, eh, can talk about my wand afterwards.' After a second of thinking that sentence through, he felt shame and embarrassment rise in him. Of all the stupid things to say... Stray drops of water travelled down her neck, and Harry was briefly mesmerised, his eyes jealously following their paths...

Aenor smiled, pretending not to notice his dilemma. 'Oh really, Harry? Do imagine my surprise as I beheld my robes after finishing my shower. I'm sure you can bear this much, if you were hardened enough to not even comment on the, ah, state of my attire after training.'

Or maybe she didn't realise after all, damn!

Aenor simply seated herself elegantly in the armchair directly opposite of him and made no further comment, but Harry still hadn't completely regained his composure and kept glancing at her. She, however, only smirked in return and crossed her legs with agonisingly slow motions. In fascination, Harry followed the deliberate movement of her impossibly long and slender legs...

Eventually, he regained some measure of discretion, shuddered slightly and swiftly fixed his gaze on the fire. Merlin, this is torture! And I'm not sure if this or the laceration of my mind is more wicked in intent.

'We were talking about wands, Harry, remember? Before you thoroughly checked me out, I mean.' Her tone was light, and she was very clearly entertained.

Harry grimaced, but hoped conversation might divert his attention from the half-naked epitome of temptation not two yards in front of him. 'Eh, sure. Yeah, I guess I have a very good connection with my wand. It's a bit complicated, though. My grandfather and I were most pleasantly surprised, since we didn't get this one from Ollivander's but from the family vaults.' At this moment, he truly did not care what he told her, as long as he could peacefully stare into the fire and try to forget the semi-stripped beauty that was within arm's reach.

'Oh? That's interesting. Have you had your famous Ollivander inspect it?'

Harry frowned slightly. 'Do you not approve of Ollivander?' It was rather difficult to have a talk with her while trying hard to ignore her appearance. He couldn't read her expression, for starters.

'Oh, it's not that. Well, not exactly, at least. I know him to be extremely competent, but he is too traditional for my personal taste. In matters of intellect, traditions should always be challenged by new ideas. Or vice versa, new ideas should always be compared to what is commonly known. Excellence should be the only measure that counts.'

'So,' he slowly tried to shift his mind into a higher gear, 'you think he doesn't even try to think outside of the box? He merely delves deeper in directions already laid out for him, and that blinds him to possibilities he doesn't think to consider?'

'Yes, something like that, Harry. So what did the old geezer say about your wand? Did you try any others?'

Harry laughed softly, remembering foolishly waving around half the shop's inventory. 'Ah yes, I did indeed. And the only one that had any reaction for me had a rare phoenix core, it seems. My own wand, however, simplified my choice by breaking the other one the second before I could actually touch it.'

She didn't answer for several seconds, and Harry finally shot a swift look towards her. She seemed deep in thought and had casually leaned forward, supporting her head with both of her hands. This posture, however, was a bit too much to endure for Harry, so he snapped his head towards the fire so hard that he felt a severe twinge of pain in his neck.

'What kind core does your wand have, Harry?' Her voice had lost the playful undertone for the moment.

'Eh, it is a bit unusual, so you first if you want to know.' This had been their modus-operandi for these past few days, and it had worked reasonably well so far.

'Oh, fine, if you insist. My wand incorporates the ground bones of a dementor.'

Scary how that fits. Harry wisely chose not to voice these thoughts, though. 'I didn't know they could be used to craft wands. I see what you meant with unusual approaches.'

'They can't usually, so it is indeed extremely unusual, and I'd like you to keep this bit of information to yourself. So what's yours?' she asked inquisitively.

'Well, Ollivander said it was some African Blackwood with the shrunken heart of a sphinx. He was very surprised when he inspected it and could hardly believe that we were so compatible. He himself had trouble producing even three sad sparklers with it.'

'Look at me, Harry!' ordered Aenor's voice, surprisingly insistent all of a sudden.

He hadn't expected her tone to change so drastically and felt himself heeding her wish without conscious thought. Her posture was very straight now, and her eyes seemed aflame with curiosity and something else entirely...

'Is what you just told me true?' Her eyes seemed to bore into his mind, and he reflexively concentrated on his Occlumency...but found no intrusion.

'Er, yes? Ollivander kind of told me not to spread the word. Is it truly such a big deal?' His own voice, in contrast, seemed very meek by now. Apparently this had much more severe implications than he had initially thought.

She observed his expression for a while, before closing her eyes and grimacing. 'You will never tell anybody about this. I'm very serious right now.' She seemed to be trying hard not to succumb to a fit of rage. 'If that Ollivander prick really did only say not to spread the word, then he may actually not have your best interest at heart. Harry, wands made out of sphinxes are rare, as are those creatures themselves. In contrast to phoenixes, however, they are capable of learning new magic in addition to that bit they are born with. You shouldn't consider them beasts, but rather a magical race with a very small and scattered population. Britain's Ministry of Magic would, of course, disagree again, but no sane person on the continent would refute me. As such, the eternal imprisonment of the heart of one of their own may have repercussions for you if it ever were widely known.'

Her words dangled dangerously in the air, and Harry shot a swift look towards the instrument of his magic that he so dearly loved. His wand didn't seem to mind him learning these things as it purred softly again, calming his agitated heart.

'Harry, there are societies that all but worship sphinxes, who also have social structures, same as with goblins, for example. These don't translate to human terms, but that doesn't mean they do not exist. We should have another wand maker have a look at your wand some other time. I...I know of another who maybe would be able to help you learn more about your specific sphinx. I had a comparable issue with my own wand, and he proved most helpful. Deeper understanding in these matters usually leads to greater compatibility in turn.'

She paused for a moment and licked her lips. 'We may have to wait with that for a while though. I don't have any particular reason to distrust you so far, but I'd rather not reveal more than necessary at this point.'

Harry nodded. He felt exactly the same way after all.

'What kind of wood is your wand made of, Aenor? I only had a few short looks at it, but it's an enchanting piece of craftsmanship.'

Before Aenor answered, she showed him her wand that lay innocently in her delicate hands. He studied it more deeply this time and was amazed that there seemed to be small pictures engraved all around the wand.

'It's not wood. It is as it seems, though few people recognise it as authentic ivory.'

Harry chuckled. 'I like how it is so obvious what it is, yet most people may never suspect the truth of it.'

This comment apparently pleased Aenor, as she smiled back at him without any hint of provocation for the first time in a while. After shooting a careful glance towards his own wand (that still did not seem to disagree with his mood), he looked into Aenor's eyes. They, he noticed, were equally studying his own, and he thought he detected a kindred hint of curiosity behind those icy-blue irises that he had once thought cold.

He pulled himself together and braced the question. 'Do you–Do you think I could hold it for a moment? I, ehm, was in fact wondering about other things before you entered, and I, er, find myself somewhat curious if I am compatible with it, even in the least.'

Her eyebrows shot up, and she gave him a long, searching look. After several very long moments, she nodded slowly and extended both of her hands: one with her ivory wand, the other empty. Harry understood and mirrored her gesture. He couldn't help but feel slightly nervous when Aenor slowly moved her hands towards his. As they softly touched, Harry gingerly trundled his own wand down his palm, as the ivory wand gently rolled into his other hand.

The first impression he got was...a bit different, but not exactly worse compared to his own wand. After what felt like a short tussle between his own magic and the wand, the slight feeling of uneasiness vanished, and he began to experience short bursts of prickling magic creeping up his arm. In wonder, he looked at the wand in his hand that seemed to be itching for action, almost infecting him with its tangible longing for battle and reckless displays of power.

He looked at Aenor and found her examining his own wand, deeply in thought herself. Eventually, she looked up, but he spoke first.

'I think the wands have a comparable feel about them, even though they seem to have contrasting personalities, but that may only be my impression. What do you think?' He masked his nervousness and eagerly watched her reaction. She seemed perplexed and studied his own face carefully in return.

'I somehow get what you mean, though I admit I'm completely gobsmacked that you have any reaction to my wand at all. As far as I know, you are only the third person in a few hundred years. Try a charm or something.'

Harry nodded and jabbed the wand towards the fireplace and said, 'Furvus'. Immediately, the fire shone with a strange black light while still illuminating the study. 'It doesn't feel substantially weaker than my own to be honest. The only difference I detect may stem from the additional familiarity I have with my own.'

Aenor turned his sphinx wand towards the fire, gave it a twirl, and the fire abruptly returned to normal.

'Indeed. Curious - I'm still certain this is your wand, but it nevertheless allows me to call upon my magic without hindrance...' Her voice trailed off, and she looked contemplative again.

Harry couldn't resist and lowered his Occlumency a bit. Immediately, his senses began to flood with magic from all directions, though it wasn't nearly as bad as Hogwarts. He channelled his focus on both wands and tried to tune out everything else. They were continuously humming and emitting the strange sounds that Harry associated with 'Wand Talk'. The atmosphere was peaceful though, unlike the usual strife and rivalry that filled the air in class. Both wands seemed expectant and enthused, they're 'conversation' more like song than banter. For some reason, he had the strange impression that he could detect a note of melancholy in their 'voices'.

'This is so weird. I usually hate even letting go of my own wand. Your ivory wand, however, seems to try and calm me down.' He really couldn't help but express his wonderment.

She gave him that look of inquisitiveness again. 'Your connection to magic is as strikingly remarkable as it remains mysterious. I only experience the vague but soothing feeling that this is an extraordinary match for myself, but you seem to be able to read the wands somehow.' She smiled a little as his face tensed. 'Don't fret. I won't ask, I was just commenting.' After a short pause, she sniggered slightly and gave him a strange look. 'Hey, I have an idea. Don't freak out, alright?'

Before Harry had completely understood her intentions, Aenor lifted his wand and said, 'Expelliarmus!'

A fierce scarlet light shot towards Harry, faster than he could even blink. When it hit him straight on his wand arm, however, he only felt a harmless, warm tingling. Nothing else happened.

Aenor was amused. 'Your wand is all but in love with you, Harry. I don't think you should tell Greengrass how...'

She was interrupted when Harry turned her wand towards her and loudly cried, 'Stupefy!'

The crimson beam of magic flew towards Aenor. He had the distinct impression that she intentionally refrained from countering it. The spell hit her in the face, but she only grinned menacingly. 'Hitting a lady in the face? I didn't think you had it in you, Harry. Maybe we should get a bit more serious in our training sessions.'

Harry blanched, instantly assuming an expression fit for the burial of a close relative. 'I – I may just have acted most foolishly. I do sincerely beg your pardon, Lady Rose.'

She burst out laughing and switched their wands again. 'I'm just messing with you, Harry.' She seemed to be in a very good mood, and Harry couldn't help but reciprocate the feeling.

Aenor stood up and stretched, causing Harry to immediately shift his gaze towards his feet. Despite his embarrassment, he couldn't help but feel a growing connection to this most devious witch. He was very certain that his link to the sphinx wand was special. As far as he could theorise, the reason for that may be the personality of the sphinx itself – or something along those lines. The ivory wand somehow had the same feeling of mystique around it, and if he wasn't wrong about his personality theory, then this might mean that he and Aenor were on the same wavelength or something, at least regarding certain traits of personality or maybe preferences in magic.

He didn't pay any attention to his surroundings while he mused on these things. That is, until a lovely countenance of perfection occupied his entire field of vision. He tried to reel back until he remembered that he was currently very much seated. The angelic visage before him smiled kindly and retreated.

'This has been a most diverting evening, Mr Black. Please do excuse my comment, but I'm very pleased to note that you seem to have somewhat overcome your nervous breakdown regarding my outfit.'

Harry only just managed to mumble something about the more serious matters at hand.

Aenor assumed her voice of mock hurt again. 'Why, my prince! You make it sound like my looks aren't worthy of your attention. I cannot deny that you rather hurt my confidence...'

He raised his head to return a jibe, but could only stare in shock as she friskily raised the hem of her precariously short towel ever so slightly.

Harry's mind just shut down, causing Aenor to erupt with laughter again.

'Good to see you're not completely immune to me. Sweet dreams, Harry!'

Still cackling madly, the demon vanished through the door and noisily made her way towards her guest quarters.