Black Luminary

by YakAge

The war against the Dark Lord was the last straw. The oppressed, fed up with oligarchy, corruption, and injustice, sharpened their knives, rallying behind those who promised change. They won. Today, Magical Britain is a changed country – for the better. Hail and praise to our saviours! Finally, all is well. But listen! Can't you hear the grindstone turning still ...?

26. VoD: Summer memories

Black Luminary

Book 2: A Veil of Death

---

Summer memories

The unbearable heat. The putrid smell of brimstone. Every breath he took felt as if his lungs would melt from within, while swirling clouds of biting ash blinded his vision, seared his skin.

'Promise me, Harry!' the man shouted pleadingly, his usually cold grey eyes burning with desperation. 'I need your promise!'

A supporting beam cracked with a deafening crash as the left wing of the manor succumbed to the fire. 'Take them!' the man cried over the thunderous roar, wand in his hand, a nasty cut under his left eye. 'But promise me!'

Something exploded. The images grew hazy. Then, suddenly, there was the voice of a girl. 'You promise you won't...?'

The fire didn't seem as fierce now, the air was almost cool. 'I promise.' Careless, naïve words of a boy, that-while spoken in truth-would now have to be upheld for all time to come.

~BLVoD~

Harry slowly opened his eyes, looking at his bright and tidy room, a complicated expression on his face. He could still smell the ash and desperation thick in the air; a good memory, he decided, had its downsides. Sighing, he got up and grabbed his wand, pointing it groggily to air out the bedclothes. Looking around, he briefly regarded his own reflexion in the mirror; he looked as if he hadn't slept in a while, which was a bit odd since he'd done practically nothing but read and sleep since he'd come back home, much to the growing annoyance of his aunt.

Frowning a bit, he dressed in the clothes Cranky had laid out for him and descended the prominent set of stairs.

Bellatrix was already awake, sitting at the table in the kitchen, shrouded in the familiar atmosphere of a mildly suppressed case of bipolar disorder. 'Serves them right! These wretched traitors will get what's coming to them one of these days,' she growled menacingly at the paper in her hand. 'Oh, good morning, Harry!' Her expression changed at the speed of light to a bright smile.

'Morning,' Harry replied curtly, leaving the 'what's so good about it' part unsaid. He really detested mornings.

'Sleeping in, I see,' Bellatrix continued as if unaware that he hated long talks when he got up.

'How late is it?'

'Half past eleven. Have any plans for the day?'

'Not really,' Harry admitted. 'Reading, I guess?'

'Dull, dull, dull, Harry. Come on, let's do something fun!' Her eyes widened dangerously.

'And what would that be?' he asked warily.

'Remember that cleaver I got you?' she asked with an excited smirk.

'We are not going to hunt Griffins!' he said decidedly.

'And why ever not?' she asked, crossing her arms and pouting like a disappointed child. 'I assure you; it's genuine! It even has an enchantment so that the beasts can't fly if you strike them once.'

'No,' he said strongly.

'Come on! I finally get to see my favourite nephew again, but you only want to spend time in your precious library.' She blinked a few times, her prominent eyes scanning the room as if on the lookout for something fun to do. 'Can we at least play a bit in the duelling room?' she asked eventually, obviously willing to settle for a compromise.

'Fine,' Harry agreed. 'But nothing weird please!'

'When did I ever do anything weird?! Shocking accusation!' she said, flailing her arms dramatically.

He just looked at her. 'Remember that one time you had me fight that giant spider with a knife and my wand, back when I was eight?' he asked, dead-pan.

'But it was perfectly safe!' she said, looking hurt again. 'I told you I had the antivenom on hand.'

Harry rolled his eyes, choosing not to comment that the mandibles of the spider had been as thick as his arms. 'Or when you insisted I had to be desensitised to blood and made me swim throu-'

'Water under the bridge,' she said, cackling at the memory. 'And you did it, didn't you? And you're not afraid of blood anymore, are you?'

'Well, I suppose that's true.' He refrained from saying that he now harboured an intense dislike for the taste of blood instead.

'See? Your Auntie Bella knows best! I have just the thing in mind...'

Harry sighed. Why did only his grandfather understand that quiet and relaxed vacations in the library were his idea of fun?

Blowing on the steam that rose from the cup of tea in his hand, he looked out of the window, ignoring the malfeasant stream of expletives his aunt directed at the Prophet.

'Anything interesting in there?' Harry asked after a bit of time, leaning back in his chair.

'Ridiculous, more like. Ministry lost two of their employees.'

'Lost? How can one lose personnel?'

'Woeful incompetence,' she said loftily. 'Arrogant upstarts, the lot of them. The whole Ministry is riddled with filth and parvenus.'

'And traitors,' Harry added absent-mindedly.

'And traitors living on borrowed time,' his aunt corrected him with an approving nod.

They fell silent. Eventually, Harry cast his gaze out of the window. 'Are you expecting a letter?' he asked, furrowing his brow as he observed the little speck in the sky that seemed to be heading their way.

'No,' she said, looking at the approaching bird shrewdly. 'But it does seem to be heading straight this way, doesn't it? Little Miss Greengrass, perhaps?'

'No, I've gotten a letter from her only yesterday...'

Harry walked to the window and opened it cumbersomely. To their surprise, it wasn't an owl at all. Crowing importantly and showing off his darkly shimmering and impressive plumage, a giant northern raven circled the kitchen twice, his mighty wings clipping a few glasses that crashed onto the floor, which caused the animal to crow even more fiercely, as if to announce its inevitable victory over the household. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes dangerously.

'Have you ever seen one of those?' Harry asked dumbfounded.

'Well, there are a few held captive in London, but wild ones? I'm not sure and certainly none that ridiculously large.' She reached for the small capsule the bird had strapped to his leg, but the animal crowed even louder, picking at her hand with his black and sharp-looking beak. 'Stupid birdbrain,' cursed Bellatrix hotly, quickly retracting her bleeding hand. 'If it picks at you, too, I say we put it out of its misery!'

Harry slowly reached for the capsule. The raven regarded him imperiously, widening his wings, gazing into his eyes with a soulful look. 'It seems rather intelligent, I think,' said Harry in a low voice.

'Intelligent?' Bellatrix shrieked. 'No wonder those nasty critters have nearly been eradicated, I say.'

The raven crowed at her again, pointing his sharp beak at Bellatrix and moving his head jerkily, his eyes never leaving the woman with curly hair as dark as, ironically, a crow. Ruffling his feathers again, it slowly stuck out his foot with the message to Harry.

Cautiously, Harry tried to take it, making it a point to keep his fingers from the apparently not to be underestimated claws or beak. The raven, however, jumped from his perch and made rounds through the kitchen again (and smashing a few more things out of spite, Harry suspected) before finally settling himself rather comfortably and surprisingly gently on Harry's shoulder, allowing him to take the message without any problems.

'You're not so bad, are you?' said Harry eventually, caressing his beautiful coat.

The bird crowed, softer this time, and rubbed its head against Harry's hand.

'Degenerated, plague-ridden chicken,' muttered Bellatrix under her breath. 'Get stuffed!'

Harry curiously unfolded the bit of parchment.

'Harry,

The summer's been pretty damn awful so far, and I need to leave for the mainland in a few days.

Do you think it's possible that we hold your little Occlumency test this week? If you think you need more time, tell me so.

In any case, write back as soon as possible, and don't you dare bully my beautiful Bambi!

Aenor'

'She's named you Bambi?' Harry asked the raven, laughing out loudly. The bird regarded him coolly, clicking its beak in a way that suggested that it refrained from taking offence as a personal favour.

'That's not exactly the name I had in mind,' commented Bellatrix scathingly.

'What would you have picked?'

'Pillow Padding,' she replied with a smirk.

'P.S.: In case you're wondering; my lovely little raven once killed a full-grown wild doe. My tip: don't annoy him.'

'That's more like it,' said Harry with a smirk.

'Who is it from?' Bellatrix asked, pointing her wand at her still-bleeding finger.

'Oh, I don't believe you've met. My defence teacher at Hogwarts.'

'Wasn't she the one you danced with all night?' she asked, looking mildly surprised.

'Er, yes, her. She'll be coming over for a day. Some sort of Occlumency test or something.'

'She's keyed into the wards?' Bellatrix continued to question, raising an eyebrow.

'The outer ones for this house, yes.'

'Interesting. Occlumency, huh? But that sounds so boring, too! No wonder you keep in touch.'

'I rather think her tests would be right up your alley,' said Harry with a wry grin.

'Anyway, even if you want to play with your little friend, I'll still hold you to that promise from earlier,' she said, her tone brooking no protest. 'I want you to show me that you can handle yourself, in case the vermin try anything again.'

~BLVoD~

First, Harry stared. Then, he blinked and decided to repeat himself, just in case he was seeing things. 'Are those real people?' he asked, his voice subtly higher than usual.

Bellatrix smirked. 'Does it matter? But no. It's a complicated bit of enchantment that makes the dummies look and behave just like real people. They're good, though, right? Very life-like. Cost a fortune, too.'

And Harry couldn't help but frown. Thirty feet in front of him, chained to the wall, held in cages, pleading for help, was a variety of very human-looking things, clad in rags, sobbing and crying for their loved ones. Harry shot a brief look towards his aunt. He was pretty sure that she wouldn't just lie to him, but this was a bit too much... Dropping his grip on what Daphne had dubbed 'the whole colour situation', he inspected the figures again – and finally dared to breathe. They were indeed magical constructs, though the specific enchantments were completely alien to him.

'What are they?' he asked baffled, and, even if he was loath to admit it, at least as impressed as he was creeped-out.

'Oh, they're not from around here. A friend of mine has some rather distasteful hobbies, so he...compromises. These are-how does he put it-"speciality goods to accommodate his refined taste".'

'Don't tell me...' Harry asked, looking disgusted.

'Apparently,' Bellatrix replied off-handedly. 'He says they have full functionality, too.'

'Urgh,' commented Harry over the wailing of the dolls. 'You know some sickening people.'

'Don't be squeamish, now, it's not like I make use of them. There's at least one perk to having a husband.'

'Can we get on with it, please?' asked Harry, getting the overwhelming sense that it had been a mistake to indulge his aunt.

'What would you do in a life or death situation in which you needed to overwhelm a superior number of enemy wizards in pursuit of you and your lover?' she demanded suddenly, her voice harsh.

He looked at her, his expression puzzled. 'Stun them and break their wands?'

The answer did not seem to please her. 'You stun your current pursuer, summon his wand, and break it with a curse. Sadly, since you've taken your time to cast three spells to deal with one lone opponent, two others are on to you now.'

'Cutting Curse,' said Harry, his brow furrowed.

'Naïve, messy and inconclusive! One of them manages to reanimate the one you stunned. The other sustains heavy wounds but is still somewhat conscious,' she continued her scenario mercilessly.

'Wide area Blasting Curse aimed not at the people but the floor to use the debris as shrapnel.'

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow, looking grudgingly impressed. 'Can you actually do that?'

Harry smiled guiltily in return, which only seemed to darken his aunt's mood.

'For the sake of the experiment, let's say you can. You get the one who's still standing and with a wand. The debris also hits your girlfriend, and she's bleeding profusely.'

'I...' Harry hesitated.

'Faster!' Bellatrix shouted angrily. 'She's lost half a litre of blood by now.'

'I cast a wide area Blinding Hex and stop her bleeding myself.'

She nodded, narrowing her eyes. 'Can you do that for real, at least?'

'Yes,' he said, somewhat hurt by her implied accusation that he was useless in a fight. 'I can do both.'

'Fine. You stop her bleeding, but you have bad luck; the one you disarmed and who's been reanimated is an ex-Auror. With a bit of wandless magic, he summons his partner's wand and hits you and your sweetheart both with a Soundblast Curse that instantly defeats you, as you're currently preoccupied helping your woman. You're being shackled and disarmed. Your girlfriend, meanwhile, is raped right in front of you. Then, you are forced to watch them torture her the old-fashioned way until-finally-she breaks, begging for the mercy of death. They have their fun with her for a few more hours before granting her wish by blasting her mind to smithereens. They leave you shackled, bound, lost and hidden away in a cave without exit or food with only the corpse of the love of your life as company, where you curse the very short rest of your miserable existence due to your lack of power and determination. The end.'

Harry stared at her accusingly, feeling somewhat cheated. 'Let's start over!'

'This is no game!' she spat hotly. 'It might not be today and it might not be tomorrow, but, eventually, you'll have to face your opponents in earnest, and that means no more games, Harry James Black!'

'Fine,' he said snappishly. It's not like I'm useless!

'We're going to test a few curses and see which one you like best and feel the most connected with, and we won't stop until you feel like you've found something you can work with. Then, we'll train. Let's start with an old favourite of mine: the Blood-Boiling Curse,' she said, levelling her wand at one of the female-looking human dolls, an expectant smirk on her lips.

~BLVoD~

'I hate your infamous weather,' said Aenor by way of greeting, pointing her wand at her drenched clothes to dry them.

'Hello,' Harry said with a smirk, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

'Yes, yes, hello,' she said, rolling her eyes.

'Not having a good summer?'

'The word "good" seems hardly applicable. It's been a nightmare!'

'How bad could it really have been?' he asked reasonably.

'Well, bad enough that someone's tried to kill me! Does that answer your precocious question?'

Harry shut his mouth, looking at her more closely. She looked unaccustomedly...tense, as if a serious attempt on her life was an inconvenience that merely served to really piss her off. 'What happened?'

'I don't know,' she admitted, handing him her jacket. 'I was at home late at night, and then suddenly all of my wards flared up at once. I grabbed my wand, jumped down the stairs and then... Well, there was something, someone, but they were already fleeing when I lit the lights.'

'Any chance of it being a malfunction of the wards or a mistake? Attempted burglary?'

She looked at him disbelievingly. 'Harry, I suspect most professional burglars would rather go to Azkaban than try their hands at my wards. And someone actually managed to break them in one go!'

'Well, that's unsettling,' he said earnestly.

'Tell me about it,' she said with a scoff. 'What about you? You look a little pale. Are you ill?'

'What? Oh, no!' he responded quickly, shaking his head. 'Just a little worn-out. My aunt is watching over me this summer, and she can be a handful at times.'

'She making you do all the chores or what?' Aenor asked with a grin.

'Not exactly. She wants to go hunt merfolk or decapitate griffins with a sword,' he said poker-faced, causing Aenor to laugh wildly. 'But mostly, she insists that I train with her at least once a day.'

'She any good?' Aenor asked inquisitively.

'Very,' admitted Harry, rubbing his shin. 'And she doesn't know how to hold back.'

'Well, then what is there to complain about? Be glad she makes herself available for your convenience.'

Harry shrugged, motioning for her to lead the way towards the sitting room.

'By the way, do you mind if I crash for the night? It'll take ages to set up all the wards again, and I need to leave Britain for a few weeks, so I intend to do that later. At least here I can feel safe.' She softly brushed her hand against the wall, jerking it back as if hit by an electrical current. 'Circe, your ancestors practically soaked the place in wards.'

'True,' Harry replied proudly. 'It would take even a full Auror corps at least a few days to strip down all the enchantments. You can stay if you want; we have a few free rooms to spare.'

Leading her through the house, Harry dejectedly recalculated the odds of having a nice and quiet summer from 'unlikely' to 'you wish'.

~BLVoD~

Later that evening, Harry found himself sitting stiffly at the big, oaken dinner table, his eyes firmly directed at some empty point in front of him, acutely aware just how true his prediction had been. He'd suffered through two houses banding together to make his life at Hogwarts a living hell; he had managed to survive four of Tori's little pretend-marriages (and he had learnt the hard way never to say 'no' during the ceremony ever again); Merlin, he'd even survived his aunt's demonstrations of the Unforgivables. But this was a true nightmare that was bound to haunt him for quite some time. This was the single worst dinner, if not social event altogether, he'd ever had to sit through, and he even counted the endless banquets he had had to attend as a Potter, back when he'd been a pitiful pawn.

As slowly as he dared, he cut the steak and brought the alluringly flavoursome and extremely tender piece of meat to his mouth, all the while politely staring at nothing in particular, his head held high and straight. At least the food was good.

'Tell me, Miss Rose: is your family pure-blood? I can't say I've ever heard of them. Obviously, it couldn't have been your money or connections that managed to impress Arcturus and Harry,' said Bellatrix delicately, her voice neither exactly polite nor rude, managing to keep a fine 'balance' Harry could only identify as condescending.

'I'm proud to say that I can look back at a rich tradition of wizards and witches in our line, so yes; we are pure-blood. But I must say I am impressed! Usually, you Brits are quite content living on your little isle and ignoring the rest of the world, save for your old colonies that have long since managed to eclipse you. I'm so glad you consider yourself an expert on continental families of note.'

Yes, the filet mignon was really good, Harry thought with all his might. He'd have to give Cranky his compliments later.

'Oh!' said Bellatrix, trying hard not to laugh. 'I hope I did not offend you, little Missy. It is quite alright to be proud of what little proven ancestry you have.'

The chard was excellent as well, Harry duly noted to himself.

'Offend? Why, I'm never offended, Mrs Lestrange,' Aenor insisted, smiling beatifically. 'Please do not worry; I have long since learned not to lose sleep over the prattling of politically irrelevant side branches of truly respectable families.'

Maybe I should order a glass of wine? I doubt Bellatrix is paying enough attention to mind me.

'Speaking of irrelevant, I've heard rumours. Knowing very well how blown out of proportions such talk usually is, it is still rather perplexing that a witch of your probably rather average capabilities decided to waste away her youth teaching. I mean, shouldn't you have left that to someone who actually has some experience with, well, anything?'

'Cranky?' Harry croaked, his voice raspy. 'A bottle of our finest Pinot Noir, please.' The elf nodded compassionately and disappeared silently to fetch the bottle and some glasses.

Aenor regarded her vis-à-vis calmly. 'I'm sorry, Mrs Lestrange. But it was, in fact, Arcturus Black who helped secure that position for me. Surely, seeing as you're related, this cannot be news to you, can it?'

Harry nodded gratefully towards his favourite elf and proceeded to pour himself a rather generous measure of his grandfather's finest.

Bellatrix smiled, waving the jab aside like an irksome fly. 'I did not question how you got the job. Leaving your doubtful qualifications aside, I was merely speculating about your motivation.'

Harry tasted the wine with a rather enthusiastic swig and smiled, leaning back and relaxing a bit.

Aenor grinned back at her counterpart, reaching for an empty glass and the bottle of wine. 'I'm so glad that you wish to impart the considerable experience you've managed to gather in your long and fulfilled life so far. Is it true that your children will be attending Hogwarts, starting this year?' She closed her eyes and took a sip, her expression museful. After a few seconds, she nodded approvingly and positioned the bottle just a bit out of Harry's reach, who gave her a defiant glare that she pointedly ignored. 'I mean, it must be a soothing thought that, finally, your life has come to fruition. Now, you only need to lie back and relax as everything play out.'

'How droll,' replied Bellatrix with a smirk. 'Well, I'll be glad to recommend your class to my delightful little children. I'm sure they'll be paying a special kind of attention to you. But speaking of children, have you considered marriage at all, Miss Rose? I mean, while you're still young for now, not many families of good rapport will consider granting you a social haven by marriage if you protract the matter for much longer. Though maybe you still have a chance if you consider a somewhat different approach; I'm sure Nott senior wouldn't mind having you as his new plaything. I've heard his latest wife recently passed away.'

Harry dearly wished he hadn't started off so zealously with his drink. Now, his glass was empty, and it seemed as if both witches had just started warming up. Subtly pointing his wand under the table, he cast a very weak summoning charm, making the bottle creep across the table almost imperceptibly slowly.

'Ah,' said Aenor with a suspiciously mean smile, 'it is true; we can't all be as lucky as you with our husbands, Mrs Lestrange. It truly does my heart good to see such happy couples even after many, many years of politically forced marriage. I really respect you as a woman, knowing that you stand by your husband despite his, you know, appearance.' Her hand shot out and grabbed the moving bottle, not even bothering to look at Harry. She refilled her own glass instead of granting Harry the mercy of inebriation, placing the beverage directly in front of her afterwards.

Harry gaped longingly at his chosen deliverer from suffering, but the fine drink stayed traitorously near his guest, defying his silent prayers and pleas. With a look of determination, he raised his wand under the table again...

'No magic during mealtimes, Harry James Black!' snapped his aunt parenthetically, making Harry flinch as both witches turned their grim attention towards him for a second. 'Well, I can see how you are so focused on superficialities. Maybe we have uncovered your secret motivation to teach at Hogwarts at long last; if you enjoy the slavering looks of underage wizards, I suppose there's hardly any finer institution that allows you to dress tawdrily to satisfy your exhibitionist desires.'

Harry sent a pleading look towards his elf, silently begging for help. Cranky grinned and snapped his fingers. Harry, his eyes widening, reached for his cup that had originally held pumpkin juice, pleasantly surprised that it now held Butterbeer with just a hint of Firewhiskey. It wasn't quite the smooth wine that blended perfectly with the tender and lean meat, but you had to start somewhere.

'Charming,' said Aenor placidly. 'Me, personally, I find my position at Hogwarts to be a bearable compromise between-admittedly-dull teaching and engaging and fascinating studies. But I can see how you would jump to your conclusions about exciting sexual adventures, Mrs Lestrange. It's the nature of most humans to crave what we do not have, isn't it?'

Harry regarded his cup with some annoyance. The damn thing was clearly much too small. How could one manage to divert one's attention from the feral conversation taking place, when after a few polite sips the stupid thing was already half-empty again?

Bellatrix, meanwhile, laughed a genuine laugh of entertainment. 'Your loving concern is touching, if misplaced, Miss Rose. But you have my full confidence,' she said, winking at the younger witch. 'Just don't get caught. Apropos getting caught,' she continued light-heartedly, ignoring the nasty glare Aenor sent her way at her mention of those words, 'what are your plans for the coming Yule festivities? I hope you enjoyed our ball last year? I've heard you danced until you were positively beaten that night.'

Harry wasn't even feigning attention anymore. His wand in his sleeve, he concentrated with all his might on the cup in front of him, remembering the charm Flitwick had quizzed him on during his exam. He was rewarded with an almost invisible orange glow around his cup. Now all he needed was a drinking partner...

Mercifully, even the Dinner of Disaster eventually ended, though neither Bellatrix nor Aenor seemed in any particular rush to bring an end to the most thinly veiled verbal spat of recent wizarding history. Things got a little heated in between, with both witches politely offering to help demonstrate the proper casting of various hexes, while aiming at each other purely for demonstration purposes. But when they finally settled for a tentative armistice due to the advanced hour, they were quite astonished to realise that Harry was happily drowsing in his seat, a laughably childish, varicoloured party hat on his head and his snoozing house-elf lying curled up under his chair.

~BLVoD~

The next day began, as one might have expected, with the wigging of the century.

'...completely unbecoming of the future lord of the Blacks! Ignominious! Worse, raffish even! What were you thinking?!' bellowed Bellatrix for what seemed to be the seventeenth time. Harry just stood there, trying not to scowl as his aunt's shrill and, worst of all, loud voice drilled into his head with the unnerving persistence of a mosquito. Harry also graciously refrained from remarking that slaughtering populations of merfolk was probably just as unbecoming of a future lord.

'…base behaviour totally unworthy of the Blacks. Such crassness!'

'Look, Auntie, I'm sorry! Can we please forget about this?' Harry asked in a polite voice, hoping to make the loud voice stop. It hurt his head.

'Oh, no, we don't! You're still fourteen. Fourteen!' she cried again for emphasis.

'How about this, then,' Harry snapped suddenly, the latent headache finally managing to break his calm. 'You refrain from telling Arcturus about this sorry episode, and I won't mention how you hassled and verbally abused my guest for the entire dinner.'

She took a step back, her eyes widening. 'What? I never...' Clearing her throat, she seemed to calm down remarkably fast, regarding him with a somewhat bemused expression. 'Well, I can see that maybe I've blown this little lecture a bit out of proportion. Just, you know, don't do it again. Or at least have the common decency to do so quietly in a lonely corner of the common room or in some broom closet where nobody will see you - just like everybody else.'

Harry gawked at her, arching an eyebrow.

'What?' Bellatrix said with a grin. 'You think you're the first to get drunk while underage? When I was your age, I'd already won two illegal honour duels in Hogsmeade and could drink some patrons of the Hog's Head under the table!' she boasted pridefully. 'But that doesn't mean my parents knew about that bit. Use your common sense, oh nephew of mine!'

Harry laughed a bit. 'Okay. Message received and understood.'

'Good. How's your head?'

'Could be worse, I guess.'

'Great. Meet me in the duelling chambers in fifteen minutes. Nothing better than a bit of adrenaline to purge the stuff out of your blood, trust me. And I promise I'll make it extra thrilling this time.'

'Oh,' he said with a sense of trepidation. 'Fantastic.'

~BLVoD~

Aenor silently watched Bellatrix push Harry around in the training area. The old hag was pretty good, she had to admit. Not quite in her league, and not as good as Harry might eventually become, but dangerous enough to give even her pause.

She watched with narrowed eyes as Bellatrix overwhelmed Harry's impressive defence with nothing more or less than undiluted power. Even though her movements were tranquil and had the air of a proficient and very experienced duellist, her spells were always completely tuned towards all-out attack. Aenor had little doubt that Bellatrix could use advanced defensive magic; it was just that she chose not to.

'Move, Harry!' Bellatrix shouted. 'Your mind needs to be calm, your feet quick, your aim true and your heart cold. Nothing else matters. Now do it in earnest! Try to harm me, at least!'

Aenor nodded absent-mindedly, watching Harry circle his aunt. Lestrange, however, already tired of waiting for the charge that was unlikely to ever come, snarled and twirled her wand twice. A stream of wild and fierce red Bludgeoning Curses erupted from her wand, all aimed directly at Harry's chest. The boy did-she had to admire it-not even twitch when he recognised the swirl of hexes that was more than enough to seriously threaten his life. Bringing his wand down in a grand arc, a thick layer of blue magic sprang to life in front of him. The Bludgers fizzled harmlessly and evaporated.

'No more hiding,' screamed Bellatrix, wrought-up. The air around her wand became distorted, and with the dull sound of a booming bass, Harry's shield suddenly began to rapidly heat up and change colour from deep blue to bright orange, causing the boy to look at it in horror. Not a second later, the tempered layer of protective magic exploded with enough force to rattle the mansion, catapulting Harry across the room until he hit the wall with a loud thump.

Aenor silently and grudgingly revised her opinion of the loathsome witch upwards.

'Strike at me!' the Lestrange woman commanded the boy, who had a few stray drops of blood running down the side of his head. 'You cannot hope to defeat anyone if you only cower behind your protection. Defences are meant to be overcome! We won't leave this room until you make some kind of effort!'

Harry snarled, standing up in a way that suggested some kind of problem with his left foot, though a more inexperienced duellist would probably not have noticed. Aenor admired his grit, though she, too, was becoming a bit concerned with his insistence to not use offensive magic.

He raised his wand and sent a few well-aimed Reductor Curses his aunt's way. The spells' aim was true but...

'Is that it?' Bellatrix laughed derisively, batting the incoming spells into the wall with her bare backhand, causing Aenor to frown imperceptibly. 'The Reductor Curse, my ickle little nephew? What next, Expelliarmus? I want you to try and hurt me, not make me scream with laughter!' She cackled again, her voice shrill and haughty.

Aenor's eyes darted to the place where the witch had directed the curses to. True enough, Harry's offensive spells weren't anything special, but still, there were some very noticeable cracks in the stone, definitely enough to seriously injure any witch or wizard.

Bellatrix straightened her pose, looking at her nephew with an expression that was difficult to read. 'You're forcing my hand here, Harry.'

'I'm trying,' the boy shouted back. 'You can't honestly expect me you to beat you!'

'No,' she said in a low voice. 'But I expect you to try! Now reap what you have sowed!' she shouted unexpectedly, pointing her wand at his feet. 'Confringo!'

The room exploded with an earsplitting, thunderous roar, chips of marble shooting all over the place as deadly projectiles, causing Aenor to raise her own wand for once. Hot winds howled, the floor creaked – and then it was over just as quickly as it had begun. She looked at the centre of the detonation with a certain amount of concern. Harry had been right, that much was clear; Bellatrix Lestrange really did not know how to hold back. An area of at least 250 square feet of marble was completely demolished, the epicentre featured an impressive crater of at least three feet. Fragments of marble had pierced nearly every wall.

Bellatrix still stood in her spot, wand at her side, her gaze focused on the big cloud of smoke behind and around the dent in the floor.

'Don't you think you overdid it a little, Mrs Lestrange?' asked Aenor, syphoning the dust from her clothes.

'The name of Black is not for show! If he couldn't survive something like this, he'd have never made it this far!' she said firmly, though Aenor noted that she too was looking for any sign of Harry in the debris.

Slowly, the smoke cleared somewhat. Aenor's chest seized up. Just a bit behind the point of impact, hidden under several larger chunks of completely ruined slabs of marble, several shreds of dark velvet were just barely recognisable under the debris – and the blood.

'Say,' she heard herself say. 'What's Arcturus going to do to you when he finds out you killed his grandson?'

'Silence!' hissed Bellatrix, her eyes wide. They slowly approached, wands at the ready. Now that the dust had settled, it was becoming apparent that parts of the ceiling had come crashing down, too. Most unluckily, Aenor noted with a groan, the ceiling had crashed precisely into Harry's direct escape route.

They silently advanced, surveying the carnage. Deep cracks in the floor and the collapsing ceiling must have made a particularly dangerous and treacherous obstacle course, Aenor imagined with a sinking feeling.

'There!' she said suddenly, pointing her wand. Underneath the biggest loose slab, not far from the torn shreds of the robe, something fleshy was just visible. Aenor flicked her wand and moaned with regret. 'You demented bitch! It's a fucking human arm!' she snarled, pointing at the mangled bit of flesh her spell had identified as the remains of a human corpse.

Bellatrix' eyes widened further, if even possible. 'No,' she whispered. 'No! No, no, no, no...' She raised her wand and, gently, lifted the wreckage from what shouldn't be the corpse of her nephew. 'Harry,' the woman whimpered. 'Oh, my poor little Harry...!' She crouched down, crawling towards the bloody mess on all fours.

Aenor, looking at the scene, grimaced. It was bad. She doubted even Asclepios himself could have saved the boy; the left side of his body was completely crushed, his face unrecognisable. The right leg was broken in at least three places, the knee completely shattered by a particularly brutal-looking hit of a hundredweight floor plate of exquisite Carrara-Marble. The hand was outstretched heavenwards in a wretched, heart-rending and wordless last plea for help. It hadn't done him any good.

The wand was nowhere in sight, Aenor noted over the wailing of the other woman, and while it was quite possible that the little bit of wood had been completely pulverised by the weight, this observation still had her on edge and gave her something to focus on. Without any expression on her face that betrayed her racing thoughts, she twirled her wand again, inspecting the corpse in even greater detail.

Yet no matter how hard she looked with either naked eye or spell, not a single splinter of wood was to be found anywhere.

Suspiciously, she flicked her wand forcefully at the direction of the corpse a third time. For a second, the air shimmered brightly, and she raised an eyebrow, applying even more force and pressure until, finally, the enchantment broke. The stature of the person in front of them changed into that of a mature, plain-featured woman clad in rags. She was still dead, of course, but unless Harry had been running some sort of hilarious bluff his entire life...

'WHAT DID YOU DO?' shrieked Bellatrix, enraged.

'Undo his charms. He's gone,' Aenor said with amusement. 'And we've been had. Who is this, incidentally?'

Bellatrix frowned, leaning over the bloody remains. After a while, she sighed, relieved. 'A puppet. I brought a few of them with me for training purposes. I hadn't even realised he'd snatched one.' Lestrange blinked a few times, then she began to laugh hysterically. 'I also didn't realise it was charmed. I'm glad he's not completely helpless.'

'Neither did I,' admitted Aenor reluctantly. 'But I've only ever seen him let go of his wand once. And it's not here.'

'I knew there was something I'd forgotten,' said a voice not far behind them. Harry calmly walked over the ruins of the room and approached the gaping witches. 'Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for asking,' he said after a while, when they both just stared at him in silence.

'What about your leg?' inquired Aenor. Indeed, her greatest worry had been that the injury had somehow hindered his escape earlier.

'Fixed it already.' Looking at his still staring aunt, he clicked his tongue. 'Now look at this mess, was it really necessary to go that far? You bloody nearly got me with that!'

Bellatrix seemed to inflate a bit under his scolding voice. But then, she rushed forward and embraced her nephew with so much force that Harry yelped in pain. 'I'm sorry, Harry! I'm so sorry! You know I never would... I'd never... But I'm so worried, and you're still so weak, and I just couldn't help it!'

Harry rolled his eyes at her mention of him being weak but reciprocated the embrace. 'I know,' he said kindly. 'I promise I'll take it a bit more seriously, alright?'

Bellatrix nodded, squeezing his shoulder and beaming at him. 'You did good, hiding your wounds,' she said, patting his chest a bit forcefully.

Harry's expression didn't change, but his eye seemed to water a bit. 'Yes, well, okay. I admit you got me with the blast. I haven't cast a spell to end the duel because my arm hurts like hell, too, alright?'

Aenor watched the exchange with an amused expression. Harry had done reasonably well, better than could have been expected, certainly. Lestrange wasn't wrong in reprimanding him for his lacking offence but on the other hand... She looked down at the puppet again, her expression blank. She hadn't noticed the enchantment, at all. Her eyes flickered towards her young charge, and she forcefully suppressed the hunger that welled up in her. Too soon, she thought.

~BLVoD~

'So, let me get this straight,' said Bellatrix disbelievingly. 'You want to take my poor little nephew and have him partake in a, even by my standards, particularly dangerous test without any supervision whatsoever? And all that outside of our safe premises?'

'Precisely,' Aenor replied drily.

'Are you quite sane, Miss Rose?' Lestrange asked casually. 'The sole reason for my being here is that it was deemed a risk to let Harry alone at home despite the extensive security measures this house features. And you ask me to just let him go with you? Just like that?'

'There's nothing to fear,' said Aenor, rolling her eyes. At least I didn't nearly kill my own nephew by accident, you crazy bitch. 'He's as safe from other witches and wizards with me as he is with his grandfather.'

'That would imply that I place any kind of trust in you,' objected Bellatrix bluntly. 'Which I don't.'

Aenor shook her head in an irritated fashion. 'And what would you need as a guarantee?'

'You have nothing of equal value to Harry's life,' said Bellatrix categorically.

'Don't be so pig-headed, Mrs Lestrange,' said Aenor, stressing the Mrs as sarcastically as humanly possible.

Both witches regarded each other coolly. 'As you wish,' said Bellatrix finally and stood up, to the slight surprise of the younger woman. She walked towards the fireplace and threw a handful of Floo Powder into the roaring fire. 'Cissy! Come over for a second, I need you to deal with this!'

Aenor looked in confusion from the expectant smile of Lestrange that seemed so confident in victory to the puzzled-looking woman who emerged from the fire.

The witch seemed to be a bit younger than Lestrange. Where Bellatrix was dark, the newcomer was fair; while Lestrange had a strong jaw and heavy-lidded eyes, the arrival had refined, unobtrusive features. 'What is it, Bella?' she asked, sparing Aenor nary a glance. 'Where's Harry?'

Their voices, too were, different; Lestrange's voice was, at any given time, thick with emotion, whereas this woman's speech was plummy and crisp. Still, Aenor thought they could be related, which would also explain why this new person was able to get through the hundreds of wards so easily.

'Resting. We need a Bonder,' declared Bellatrix simply.

'Wait a second. You want me to take an Unbreakable Vow?' clarified Aenor, alarmed.

Bellatrix scoffed dismissively. 'You think it'll take any less to entrust my nephew to you, if only for a day?'

That seemed to garner the other woman's attention at last. 'What's this about Harry, Bella?'

'Miss Rose here wants to take him out of the wards for some stupid test. I told her it wasn't possible, but she insisted. That's why you're here.'

'And what is this test, Miss Rose?' the newcomer asked, her eyes cold and piercing. It was fairly obvious that she was at least as protective of Harry as the rest of those connected to him that Aenor had already gotten to know.

'An...antiquated test for Occlumens. It used to be the standard test in my homeland for those wanting to delve into what lies beyond what we consider journeyman level, Mrs...?'

'Unimportant. How dangerous exactly?'

'Potentially? Fatal or worse,' Aenor said with a shrug. 'If he's adequately prepared, no harm will come to him.'

'Fatality rate?' the woman asked flatly.

'About two in five.'

'We're done,' her counterpart said decisively, turning around again. 'Absolutely not.'

'Any test of worth has some inherent element of danger,' Aenor said with a bit of anger. 'He needs this. He will not break through the limit he is approaching otherwise. At least, not within the next few years. He has notable talent, I'm sure I don't need to patronise you, but he needs to call upon it. He has the tendency to be complacent. He needs to be pushed.' She watched both witches exchange a glance. 'And I thought his family approved of his Occlumency studies. His grandfather did, in fact, personally task me to help him in his efforts. This is everything I can do for him from this point forward.'

'Can you step in if he's in danger of failing?' the blonde asked in a worried tone.

'The test itself is already a tightrope walk. Straying from the path of success is death itself.' Watching them exchange another look, she added, 'Look, I'm not trying to get him killed. I have, as a matter of fact, a vested interest in keeping him alive. But he needs this. You can't coddle him for the rest of his life. Harry is capable of great things, but only if you let him break through his limits every now and then.'

'I'm with her,' grumbled Bellatrix to Aenor's immediate surprise. 'I know Harry has it in him, but he tends to favour his academics too much. Knowledge won't help him if he lacks experience.'

The blond witch looked conflicted, her eyes wandering from Lestrange to the ceiling, seemingly seeking out Harry. 'Are you sure, Bella? I'm not certain this is wise... Is this Rose person even capable of keeping him safe from others?'

'She's...capable enough, I suppose,' Bellatrix said with a shrug.

The newcomer still looked extremely unconvinced, her whole face an expression of reluctance. But eventually, she nodded. 'Alright, take hold of each other's arms.'

Aenor sighed. Apparently, there was no getting out of this. With slight hesitance, she grabbed Lestrange's forearm.

'Will you, who we know as Miss Aenor Rose, watch over Harry Black for the course of this, your test and the appertaining journeys, and keep him from harm to the best of your capabilities?'

Aenor stared at the wand resting where her and Lestrange's hand interconnected. 'I will.'

'Will you, when necessary, do whatever you must to fight any danger to his life during the course of these days?'

'I will.'

'And will you swear to never betray the trust we place in you regarding his safety?'

Aenor looked up and stared into the blonde's light-blue eyes, waiting for her to limit the extent of the vow for the duration of the test, as she'd done previously. The woman stared back, her expression calculating and as unbending as steel. And right then, she knew for certain that there would be no such convenient limitation with this one.

'What's the matter, little Missy? Having second thoughts?' came Lestrange's jeering voice.

Clenching her jaw, she gripped the arm of the other woman as hard as possible. 'I will.'

Hot flames danced across her skin, binding her life to the promises she'd made. When she looked up, still a bit in disbelief of what those two witches had made her swear, the blonde was already on her way back to the fireplace. 'A pleasure to meet you formally, Miss Rose,' she said, not looking back. 'My name's Narcissa Malfoy. Keep Harry safe, will you? Not just for the vow.' She turned around and gazed into her eyes once again. 'He's something special.'

Aenor nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact. 'I will,' she repeated herself solemnly.

~BLVoD~

'Aenor?'

'Hm?'

'Have you ever met my aunt before?' Harry asked, carefully observing her expression.

'We have never been introduced, I'm sorry to say,' she replied somewhat sarcastically.

She's not being completely truthful. The inspiration was as alien, as strange, as unexpected as Harry inexplicably knew it to be true. She wasn't completely honest. Well, he didn't fault her for that, he wasn't either, after all. But how in Merlin's name did he know? Her expression was as calm, as unreadable as ever before.

'Have you seen her at the Black Ball?'

'Come,' she said, giving no answer. 'We have a time frame to adhere to.'

Harry frowned, but nevertheless took her outstretched hand. The instant their skin made contact, he felt himself getting yanked through space and time, twisted, compressed, until-finally-he could breathe again, his feet landing on something with a loud and dirty sounding splash.

'Urgh,' he commented volubly.

'Never travelled across nations per apparition? It's a bit rough, but you'll get used to it.'

'Where exactly is this?' Harry asked nervously, looking around. All he could see was a horizon worth of mud, sea birds, shells, small puddles of water and some more mud. That was all nothing in comparison to the overbearing aroma of the sea, of course. He'd never quite smelled it so intensely in all his life.

Aenor pointed towards a small elevation where an ancient looking homestead of archaic construction methods was enthroned on a small patch of green grass. 'That's a warft, though you may know by its more common English name of "terp" - an artificial mound. We are currently near the European mainland in what is usually the North Sea.'

'What do you mean, what is usually the sea?' Harry asked, perplexed. A second later, he came up with the answer himself. 'Oh. The Wadden Sea?'

She rewarded his knowledge with a genuine smile. 'Correct. That right there is one of my places. I don't use it often, but it is fairly safe. The wards are nothing special in comparison to those of your family, but the location itself is rather secluded, and no living soul knows of its existence. Well, besides the two of us, now.'

'And where exactly is that?' Harry asked, looking around. He could see other small patches of land here and there, yet none big enough to give shelter. Some strange objects seemed to protrude from the larger bodies of water, giving the whole scene a very lonely and slightly eerie atmosphere.

'Not too far from the coast. This place does, in fact, not have a name anymore. A few hundred years ago, a terrible and great flood sunk whole parts of the coastline. What you see there, for example,' she pointed to the spiky object Harry had previously spotted, 'is the old church spire. The whole island was deserted, and, eventually, without the dykes and dams, the sea reclaimed everything the storm did not. Except for my little hideout.'

She started walking, and Harry hurriedly followed suit.

'Best be careful where you place your feet. Sometimes what looks like a mere puddle can be a metre deep or worse. Better only follow my steps. This place is dangerous, even at low tide.'

And Harry did just that. He would be the first to admit that he didn't have any great knowledge about the sea, but he had no qualm confessing that he...respected it, just for the fact of how indomitable and dangerous it was, to Muggles and wizards alike.

Aenor made many strange turns and often chose not to cross pools Harry would probably just have waded across, but, in the end, they finally made it. Aenor came to a halt just before the green patch of land in a sea of dirty brown, pointing her wand at him and then herself to clean their clothes.

'I've deactivated the wards so you can step in. It would be wise to hurry it up, though.'

And he did. The warft, Harry realised with some concern, only seemed to be a few metres above sea level. 'Isn't this dangerous during a storm surge?'

She grinned at him. 'It's the best thing ever! As long as you have strong nerves...'

Harry could just imagine the raging waves of the sea crashing against the precious little land; a house at sea, surrounded by nothing but the storming tide. He shivered involuntarily.

She walked towards the great oaken doors that were decorated with, presumably, blessings in a foreign language, though Harry also spotted a few runes here and there. 'How old is this building?'

She looked towards him, her expression amused. 'Ah, I see you've studied your futhark. Well, paganism held out a bit longer out here. Especially ancient customs, superstitions and the like. It doesn't hurt that a few of them are actually true, too. This one,' she pointed towards the set of runes directly above the door, 'roughly translates to "a peaceful welcome to all strangers".'

'That seems excessively friendly,' commented Harry with a grin.

'Magic aside, this is a dangerous place to live, Harry. Back when there was a settlement here, magic folk and Muggles used to help each other in times of need. Facing the dangers of the sea, a wizard might well need all the help he can get, on occasion.'

'Really?' Harry inquired curiously.

'Yes. They were fairly respected, too. They got livestock and food in exchange for medicine and blessings. Apparently, they also used to help keep some of the more malevolent denizens of the sea at bay.'

'Give and take, so to speak.'

'Of course. Every relation worth a grain of trust is of equal value to both partners, after all. Come!'

She tapped the heavy door with her wand, and it creaked and rattled and groaned until it finally, slowly, opened in their direction.

The insides, Harry soon found out, were a bit dusty and rustic, but not unpleasantly so. Most of the furniture seemed to be hand-carved and preserved with spells against rot or vermin. But every single piece was, as far as Harry could tell, a marvellous work of art. Aenor had to positively drag him from the grandfather clock, promising to show him everything later. 'You can have a look, I promise, Harry. But now, rest. I know you're still sore from your aunt's little stunt, and you'll need all the strength you have. We'll be holding our test during the night. I'll show you to your room for now. No house-elves, I'm sorry to say. You'll have to make do with what you find.'

She led him, not upstairs he noted with surprise, but through the big room with an enormous fireplace that seemed to function as both kitchen and living room. On the other side of the wall was a huge bed that was, like everything else, adorned with magnificent if kitschy carvings.

'Wood can be a hassle to acquire out here. The fireplace used to serve as a source of heat to make food, to warm the parlour, and, as you can see, the bedroom. In thankfully long bygone times, the whole family used to sleep in one room, but you can have this one for yourself, don't worry,' she said with a wink.

'How generous of you,' he replied sarcastically, trying to suppress a yawn.

'Get some sleep,' she said with a little smile. 'I'll wake you when it's time.'

Harry nodded and, without bothering to take off more than his robes, shirt and shoes, slipped under the blanket and was asleep within a few minutes.

~BLVoD~

'Promise me!' the ghost of a voice demanded. 'Promise me you won't?' the other begged desperately. 'Promise...!'

Harry shot up, a thin film of sweat on his brow. The same dream again. Cursing softly, he let his head fall back onto the giant and fluffy pillow. It was so soft that his head was in danger of getting swallowed by the cushion. Calming his breathing, he strained his ears. A storm seemed to be arriving; the wind outside was a woeful howling interrupted by the occasional sound of a greater wave breaking, and he could just see it in his mind: the waves attacking the land relentlessly, wave after wave rolling in, trying to claim what should be theirs, clawing at the land, the sea foam angrily spraying out of spite.

As he'd done during the previous months to practice, Harry allowed his Occlumency to relax a little. The wards and preservation spells were as visible to him as his own hand, a thick green layer around the property and all the furniture. To his amusement, a few of the runes that decorated doors, windows, blinds or gables seemed to have a little magical life in them, too. Apparently, Aenor was right; some of those blessings seemed to be for real, even if their power seemed rather limited.

Speaking of his companion, Aenor was currently pacing in the other room, just outside of his door. But to his astonishment, she wasn't the most magical existence at the residence. The roof, specifically the room under it, positively reeked of magic. Wards, Harry guessed, and something else, something foul. The protection was so extensive, so ludicrously complex, that Harry's vision, for the first time ever, seemed to slow down, as if his perception was overloaded by the tight web of enchantments and wards that hindered his vision.

Blinking and shaking his head, he had a look at the other rooms. All of them, Harry now felt for the first time, were deeply soaked with magic. No particular spell or ward aroused his suspicion, but he couldn't help but feel that this place had once been bursting with magic. Someone had done a good job of ridding the most obvious of traces, and-indeed-Harry could see nothing, but the smell was there. It smelled a bit like Hogwarts, he thought for some strange reason.

Groaning, he got up and dressed again, making his way out of the room. Aenor was, as he'd previously seen, toing and froing between the fireplace and the stairs, clearly absorbed in thought. 'How late is it?' he asked in a low voice so as to not alert her.

Her head snapped in his direction, and he could see that she looked visibly tense. Tenser even than when he'd seen her just after the attempt on her life. What the hell is going on here...?

'Ah, you're awake. Good,' she said, though she didn't sound happy at all. 'Sit down.' She pointed towards an old wing chair, and she took a seat directly opposite him, mindlessly scratching her forearm.

'What is this place?' asked Harry, looking around for a second time.

'What do you mean?' she shot back with a small frown.

'It's...bursting with magic. Everything is. The floor, the ceiling, the land itself. Someone's tried to hide the traces...but it's not possible. It's like radiation,' he tried to explain.

Her eyebrows shot up, and she took a sip of what Harry easily identified as her favourite fruity liqueur. She looked incredibly nervous, and, to his astonishment, somewhat tipsy. That she was apparently drinking to soothe her nerves didn't help Harry one bit either.

'You're right. I suspect he...who removed the traces would be very pleased that you managed to find them still. But this is not the time for that talk. Listen to me, Harry, please.'

He looked at her, even more worried now. Only in correspondence by letter had she so far, truly, ever been really polite. In fact, her casual (though admittedly appropriate) arrogance was in Harry's opinion an integral part of her character. Seeing the aloof, sarcastic and ever-confident foreign prodigy before him so unnerved did not help his imagination of what was now to come.

'What's the matter?' he asked, fidgeting somewhat in his seat.

'We're about to conduct your test now. I need to give you some information beforehand. First off, do you know why Snape is such a great Occlumens?' she asked, momentarily stunning Harry into silence with this curveball of a question.

'He never drops it?' he guessed. 'Not that I know for certain, but his expression rarely even wavers.'

'Right on point,' she said with a fleeting little smile. 'He's allowed his Occlumency to seep into his very soul, his character. He's learned to shut down his emotions on such a level that it would probably take a highly traumatic experience to truly break through his control. Idle anger or contemptuousness may occasionally shine through, but they are still only the shadows of what lurks in his soul. That is why he is probably the most accomplished Occlumens at Hogwarts. Now, think of Dumbledore. What is your impression of him?'

'I don't know,' he said slowly, furrowing his brow. 'He doesn't seem as closed off as Snape for sure, but how can I know how effective his defence really is? I'm no Legilimens!'

'You don't need to be; you said everything I wanted to hear. The difference between the two is that Snape constantly fights his urges, he...suppresses them. But therein lie two weaknesses; firstly, he as a person has changed, and, arguably, for the worse. Secondly, as I mentioned previously, a big upheaval could possibly shatter his control, making him vulnerable again. No straight up attack, mind you - his defences against those sort of approaches are insurmountable. But precisely because he's incessantly locked in battle with his emotions, he will, inevitably, at some point in time, lose to them.

'Dumbledore, however, while objectively not quite as accomplished as Snape in this particular field, has taken a different approach. His Occlumency does not fight against emotions; he can laugh, cry, taunt and bristle with anger while still maintaining his grip. That is because his emotions are more or less in sync with his mind; he's learned to have his defences adapt to them; they, so to speak, swing with his emotions. Follow so far?'

'Yes?' Harry said cautiously. A few of the more obscure texts he'd found in the library suddenly started to make a great deal of sense.

'Tell me, in your opinion, which is the true path, and which isn't.'

'Dumbledore's,' he answered immediately. 'It may be overall more difficult, but it's potentially stronger. Not even speaking of how it doesn't cripple him emotionally either.'

'Quite,' she agreed with a nod. 'I, too, was instructed in that philosophy of Occlumency. He didn't found it, of course; there were countless before him. But there is one big disadvantage. While Snape is, objectively, as perfect as he'll ever be in Occlumency, the other path is a never-ending journey; a confrontation between your mind and your emotions, a quest for balance, you might say. Neither Dumbledore nor I am even close to what is theoretically possible and we might, thus, equally theoretically, still be susceptible to prodigiously strong attacks on our minds.'

'I understand,' he said, nodding slowly. 'If this is meant as a quiz, I choose your path. I don't want to stop being a human just to be a wizard.'

She smiled briefly, her features assuming a somewhat melancholic expression. 'I've heard that one before. Okay, truthfully, I fully expected you to make this choice, which is why we are here. At my old school and specifically the country I'm from, there's...an old custom. A rite of passage, so to speak, any aspiring Occlumens has to pass to be considered more than a student. It is also the first and last formal step in our approach to understanding the emotional concept of clouding our thoughts. Now, maybe you can get it yourself; what would be your method to bringing the structured, inflexible yet fragile and intangible mind in harmony with our fleeting, obscure and ever-changing emotions?'

He brooded over the problem for a while. 'Confrontation,' he said eventually with a turn of his stomach.

She smiled her brittle little smile again, taking another sip from the glass. 'Exactly. Now, what, in your opinion, are the most powerful and raw emotions of the human being.'

'Fear,' he said, with an uneasy feeling, 'and lust, possibly.'

She seemed to snort at that last bit for a second, fixing him with a somewhat amused gaze. 'Yeah, that would be so much easier,' she murmured more to herself. 'But it is, in my opinion, truly fear. Fear is part of more emotional states than any other: envy, jealousy, certain states of egotism, the list goes on, but I'm no mind healer. Fear is powerful; there is no other base feeling that is so difficult to control like fear. The more people fear, the less they think. It is...inbuilt, a feature of humanity. It has worked in the past, of course, and it still serves its purpose: the fear of mutilation, the fear of skulls, of dangerous animals, all that is useful for the survival of a human being. But it clearly challenges the supremacy of the mind. Thus, fear is an-emotionally not dulled-Occlumens' greatest enemy.'

He looked at her, letting her explanation wash over him. He had a feeling where this was going, and it sure was not going to be pleasant...

'What you are going to attempt this night is what we call the Harrowing, an, admittedly, long forbidden and nearly forgotten...ritual of sorts, where we pit a young witch or wizard against their base fears in the rawest and most primitive form.'

'What do I need to do?' he asked, steeling himself. 'And why are you so nervous? Merlin, I've never seen you like this.'

'We were talking about fear, weren't we?' she replied with a crooked smile, emptying her glass in one gulp. 'Follow me.'

She stood up and led him towards the stairs, and Harry quickly realised that they must be heading towards the garret. She slowly opened the door, swirling her wand in a vaguely familiar manner.

The room was dark and completely empty besides a single, blindingly bright source of light near the back of the room. That did not worry Harry, nor did the feeling of imminent danger worry him. What did worry him was the set of heavy chains that were attached to the sole chair in front of him, clearly intended to keep whoever sat down in place against their wishes.

'Sit,' she ordered in a steely voice.

Harry looked at her, second thoughts cavorting through his mind like venomous snakes. Could he really trust her? What if this was a setup? What if she was with someone else? The Notts? They wouldn't shy away from anything, he was sure.

'Please sit, Harry,' she repeated herself, not looking away. He gazed at her, her silvery blond hair, her eyes the colour of a glacier. They weren't their usual calm, though, he noted. Like the storm raging outside, her eyes were as furiously emotional and restless as the spraying foam of the sea. 'Please,' she repeated one last time.

And finally, he sat down, though the chains did not yet move.

'Give me your wand,' she said, holding out her hand.

'That's bollocks!' Harry snapped, his throat dry. 'Have you lost your mind?'

She smiled at him somewhat sadly. 'You remember yourself asking me to hand you a phial of my blood? I took a leap of faith back then. Now, it's time for yours.'

He opened his mouth to shout his protests but stopped before the first word formed itself. Looking down at his wand, he took a few calming breaths and handed it to her, looking away immediately when she cautiously stowed it in her somewhat skimpy robes. He didn't want her to spot the apprehension on his face. 'This is nuts,' he protested again. 'If I die tonight, I'll haunt you until the end of times.'

She gave a short bark of laughter, tapping the chains that began coiling around Harry's hands and feet, even his head and chest. 'Sadly,' she said in a strangely high-pitched tone. 'That will not be possible. You know, at first, I was worried your family might come to hunt me down after this. I told you as much ... But, this afternoon, your Aunt Bellatrix and a certain Narcissa Malfoy, another relation of yours, I'm sure, spared themselves the effort.' She rolled up her left sleeve, showing Harry glowing lines of burning red. The skin underneath seemed to wither and die as he watched, turning progressively dark and sickly.

'If you die tonight, I'm afraid to say the vow I took will do me in, too, for what I'm about to do to you. So, I hope you can forgive me for getting a little drunk on possibly my last day in this world.'

She rolled down her sleeve again and motioned her wand towards the source of light in the middle of the room. It seemed to be growing bigger.

She walked around the chair until she was right in front of him and tenderly held his face in both of her warm and delicate hands. Then, she closed her eyes and gave him a very soft kiss on the cheek, near his lips.

'For good luck,' she whispered, smiling whimsically. She smelled of alcohol.

Harry just stared at her, unsure what to make of all this, apprehension creeping through his bones like a disease that made his spine brittle. 'What am I supposed to do?' he asked rather anxiously. He could see that the light did, in fact, not seem to be getting bigger but rather closer. It was a fiercely glowing, translucent white raven, he realised, his heartbeat quickening, and darkness seemed to swallow the room behind it.

'Survive,' she croaked, flicking her wand. The raven instantly expired, dousing the room in undiluted dread, and frost and all that was unholy, causing Harry to clamp up immediately. 'I'll be with you at the first light of the morrow,' she said so quietly that Harry hardly understood her. 'One way or another...'

The door closed with a bang, and he heard steps hurriedly running down the stairs, but all that, all this was secondary to the darkness, the cold, the fear, the terror he felt as he saw dozens of chained creatures in cloaks approaching him, their mouths gaping, their festering grey skin covering their eyes, their rattling breaths drawing all the warmth and all the hope, all the memories of everything good he'd ever seen, ever felt, ever done from his body. Everything was taken from him, the memories of his grandfather faded as fast as those of Sirius or Regulus. His aunts, his cousins; all got swallowed by the gaping void, that-hungry still-ripped out everything he'd ever held dear from within the depth of his soul: his friends, his freedom, everything that made him Harry and not the pathetic excuse of a person he'd been as a child, leaving behind nothing but an empty, shaking, whimpering husk of agony and misery. And then the images came.

And Harry screamed.