Chapter 10:
Quiet Before the Storm
Harry, with his new escort of a pair of Aurors whose names he couldn't be bothered learning, exited Madame Pomphrey's hospital wing.
They had not only returned his wand to him but begun the paperwork to authorize a spare for him. After being saved by Kingsley's spare wand, he immediately got on the new temporary head of the DMLE – Rufus Scrimgeour – for a spare of his own.
This man… this man Harry liked. He was on top of things and snappy. In his first hour of taking up the role he got both Kingsley, the real Moody, Barty Crouch Senior and Harry all straight to the infirmary, got Harry his wand back and sent all but a handful of Aurors out on a manhunt for Tonks and Bones. Now he'd also attached two Aurors to guard him, sent off the paperwork for him to have a spare wand, and was preparing to interrogate the three unconscious men in the hospital wing.
Competency, thy name was Rufus Scrimgeour.
Anyway, after Pomphrey had cleared him and Sue to leave before an entire platoon of Saint Mungo's mediwitches floo'd in to care for Kingsley, they quickly left. Only to watch as a quintet of Auror's carried the real Mad Eye Moody in with a stretcher, along with a dazed Barty Crouch for some reason. Both looked to have been sedated, but the former was missing half a head of hair that looked to have been ripped out by the caged on blood and scabs. No mystery what that was about.
Today was turning out to be really chaotic, and he wanted some peace and wisdom. Advice even.
"Sue, I gotta go. Visit you in Ravenclaw tower later?" He told his girlfriend.
She nodded sternly and broke away, being followed by her own pair of freshly assigned Aurors. She was as stoic as usual.
He made a beeline for the third floor corridor and the candy-obsessed gargoyle. But when he reached the entrance to the headmaster's office it was to find that the gargoyle had already stepped aside and the spiral stairs already ascended. He heard voices coming from up it and tentatively made the climb.
He reached the top to find Dumbledore's office filled to the brim with dignitaries. Harry recognized some of them as members of the Hogwarts board of governors, like Mrs Longbottom and Lucius Malfoy(when was he let back onto the board?), but also the tournament organizers, including Fudge, Karkaroff, Maxime, and some toad-looking woman dressed in garish pink. It was a big crowd.
He tentatively knocked on the open door.
Every eye turned to him.
"Ah, mister Potter. We are a little busy at the moment but I can always interrupt such business for a student in need." Dumbledore greeted. "Was there anything you needed? Or have you managed to get into even more trouble since the attempt on your life yesterday?"
Harry smiled at the man's humor, and tussled his hair nervously.
"I.. actually don't know why I came here, other than to just talk with you for some guidance. Maybe ask about potential future educational opportunities, or even about the hunt for the other assassins that escaped after I was attacked in the owlery."
"Hmm." Said Dumbledore. "I will be more than happy to discuss all of those with you in private, and not to demean your needs, but all of those are issues that can wait in the wake of the ones we all here are tackling now."
Harry smiled in understanding and nodded in agreement, before making to leave.
"Save for your last concern." Dumbledore stopped him. "To put it simply, you killed your would-be assassin before we could get any information out of him. The others we saw apparated away at the sight of me. We do not have any names for any of them, but I still have all of my good friends, and they are many, searching."
Dumbledore lowered his head to show his eyes unconcealed by his half-moon spectacles at the word "names" and Harry understood what he was trying to tell him. The names he got from the map were supposed to be a secret, and he was handling it.
Harry nodded in understanding and left.
He had forgotten how absurdly busy that man was. Between his role as headmaster, supreme mugwump and chief warlock, there was no chance in hell of him personally training Harry for combat. That was his real purpose in speaking with the man, in addition to those other things he had mentioned.
He opted to wander Hogwarts to clear his head and give his useless shadows a workout. For a good hour he thought on his current predicament.
Flitwick was a former dueling champion from what Harry had heard, and certainly knew a wide arrange of offensive spells and charms in particular, which he excelled at. On the other hand, Professor McGonagall was a master of transfiguration, just like Dumbledore, which interested him more in terms of combat application at the moment. He was already good at applying charms in creative ways and was famous for it. Doing the same with transfiguration would diversify his fighting style significantly, and that element of surprise could be enough to get him out of danger or rack up another victory.
Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall was also the deputy headmistress, and similarly as busy as Dumbledore. So that was out.
This only left one person with the ability to train him for combat. As much as he hated to ask him for help, it was time to make friends of enemies and put such schoolyard grievances behind him.
He led his so far silent escort down into the dungeons. He knew the way by heart and yet he took a detour all the same just to prolong the time he had left before this confrontation. All the same, he still wound up standing before the door to the potion's classroom.
The sign reading 'available for consultation' was up instead of the 'class is in session' sign, meaning Snape was in, and he wasn't busy. Harry had so hoped he would be teaching a class.
He knocked.
"Come in, Potter." He heard Snape's droll response.
He sighed and opened the door.
Professor Snape was grading papers at his desk.
"Ah. And you brought company. That should make what you want to discuss with me more difficult." Snape said without looking up.
Harry glanced between the two.
"Not a chance in hell, kid." One of them said to his unsaid request for privacy.
"I figured." Harry said disappointingly.
"Come. Sit. I will tell you what you came to ask, but you might not like my answers." Snape said, indicating the chair in front of him while pushing aside the papers he was grading.
Harry took his seat and the Aurors positioned themselves strategically around the room and drew their wands. They weren't taking any chances, were they? He liked the idea of two Aurors taking out Professor Snape, but he needed the man right now.
"So, what's your answer?" Harry asked.
"What is your question? Free tip. Act as if everything you say to anybody will reach the ears of your enemies. Ask your question in a way that will give me plausible deniability and not betray your intentions." Snape told him.
The man sounded like a spy. Or somebody who suspected everybody of being a spy.
His purpose was to ask Snape to personally train him in combat. But Harry knew from Sirius that his personal history, not to mention many bad actors everywhere, would take keen interest in him specially training the deadly Harry Potter to be even more deadly. It would put him in danger of not just Voldemort and his ilk, but also law enforcement and the Hallow questers.
Hmmmm. Plausible deniability?
"With recent occurrences, I think the students at this school need a competent teacher to train them in self-defense." Harry began. "Would you be interested in running a dueling club like you had back in second year? This time without the idiocy of that fraud Lockheart preventing you from actually teaching."
Snape leaned back with a hum. He steepled his fingers as he considered Harry's request.
"I will consider it, but with all the busyness of the tournament and the recent occurrences you mentioned, I doubt I will be allowed let alone be able to." Snape said. "But there are a pair of individuals in this school who suddenly have both the free time and ability to train young fighters."
This was news to him.
"Who?" Harry asked.
"A senior Auror who just permanently lost his dominant hand and attached limb, along with a good chunk of his torso. And another senior Auror who just spent several months locked in a chest being tortured. Both will be jobless and on disability by the time they are released from Madame Pomphrey's gentle ministrations." Snape spelled out.
Oh. Oh damn. Harry hadn't considered the possibility that Kingsley wouldn't recover from the fight with fake Moody. Somehow, he had thought that magic could heal any wound. Suddenly he wasn't too sure the man would survive either. Then there was the real Moody, who would surely be more than a little scarred psychologically.
"I will consult with them. Might they be willing to also do one on one lessons?" Harry asked.
"Were you to pay them out of pocket, which, with the goblin nations now recognizing you as an adult should be no problem once you access your family vaults." Snape said. "If you haven't done so yet, I would recommend meeting with Gringotts post-haste. To say nothing of the necessity of petitioning for your own emancipation."
Harry nodded gratefully and got up to leave, when one of the Aurors piped up.
"Wait, if he wants personalized combat training, why not ask us?" He asked. "It's not like we have anything else to do while being his bodyguard."
"Because you have nothing to teach him that is worth him learning right now." Snape said coldly.
The intended offense hit home by the expression on his face.
"Uh, how about restraint?" Said the other Auror. "Or proper techniques for disarming and immobilizing opponents? Or minimizing collateral damage?"
Harry laughed bitterly at the lunacy of what the Auror just said. Snape gave him a withering look and, for the first time in his life, Harry deferred to that look. He put his trust in Snape in that moment. Snape did not disappoint.
"Listen here you blithering imbecile! He does not need training to be an officer of the law. He is not in the business of capturing petty criminals or resolving domestic disputes. He is being hunted down by at least two factions of psychopathic murderers. He needs to be trained in deadly force, which neither of you are capable of delivering. Or am I mistaken in thinking you've never fought, let alone killed a Death Eater or death cultist assassin?" Snape said, hissing every single word with venom worthy of Salazar himself.
Both men tried to sputter a response, but nothing coherent came out of their mouths.
"Well, the boy has killed both. Mostly by himself. He is already deadlier than either of you, and is need of a teacher that is significantly deadlier than him. Neither of you fit the bill. Worse, if he even tried to implement such combat techniques as you would teach him it would do nothing but get him, and worse, others killed." Snape continued.
He was not done yet, and Harry's look of awe only grew on his face from there.
"Or how about a better hypothetical question. If Potter got it into his head to kill both of you right now, what are the odds of either of you leaving this room alive without my intervention? The answer is zero. Zero chance of you both surviving. In the unlikely case that one of you survived, you too would be leaving your place of employment and living the rest of your days on disability." He finished.
Harry smoothed his features into a bored expression before Snape turned back around to ensure he didn't see the positive emotions he was feeling in that moment. He sat back down at his desk and retrieved the papers in need of grading.
"Now if you will all kindly leave my office, tonight is a full moon and I need to finish a batch of wolfsbane potion for a friend." Snape demanded.
Harry, who somehow felt even more humbled by that dressing down than either Auror looked, was the first to rush out of that classroom. The two Aurors trailed behind him at a more respectful pace than before.
He surreptitiously turned the sign on Snapes door around to "class is in session" so as to ensure nobody would disturb him, then began the hike back up to Ravenclaw Tower.
Sue was going to love this.
Lucretia Summanus and Amable Gerda left the Muggle convenience store laden with all manner of sugary junk food. Or at least, what passed for such in the British Isles.
They and the other questers who had fled from Hogwarts had holed up in a cabin just up the hill and were waiting out the current frenzy of law enforcement. They had been careful, using odor elimination enchanted garments and removing every single strand of hair or dead skin particle from their bodies before the assault. the pumice stone charm made for a split second of full body discomfort, but it was quick and effective.
There was no chance of anybody connecting them to Helvetica's corpse, whose identity they had surely surmised from examining such. There was no connection between any of them in their real lives, only in their clandestine activities.
"What do you think, will Antonio like the Tunnock caramels or the Bassets licorice?" Amable asked.
Lucretia glanced at the French girl. For the life of her she couldn't understand why the younger woman was so obsessed with mounting the Mexican man. She was from France! If she wanted a fling with a Hispanic lover, she could just take a short trip southwest to Spain or Portugal, yet here she was attempting to fraternize with a coworker. In their line of work, that was an even bigger no-no than usual.
"Have you ever even had Mexican candy before?" She asked. "It's all salt, sugar and chili powder. He won't like any of this."
Amable glowered and Lucretia but didn't argue.
They completed the rest of the return trip in less than kind silence. They were halfway up the dirt trail to their little cabin when they encountered the most unexpected thing.
"Puppy!" Amable called out.
And indeed, ten meters ahead of them sat a black, shaggy dog, waiting patiently in the middle of the path.
It looked strangely happy to see them.
Brace yourselves. Chapter 11 is an absolute gorefest. I earned my M rating writing it.
PS: Check your dms people. I message a lot of reviewers back even though ffnet fails to give alerts more times than not. Or should I start replying to them in author's notes again?