Harry Potter and the Gauntlet by Firnwilwarin

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 06/12/2003
Last Updated: 14/07/2004
Status: In Progress

When Alfirin gave Harry the Phoenix Mantle, he knew that he'd be in danger - but everyone he
cared about weren't supposed to be! Now, Harry must save them and himself, any way he
can...




1. The Decision
---------------

Disclaimer: ok, this is the only one. I do not own this franchise or the characters, from any of
the books, T.V. shows, (Harry Potter series, and a little bit from Yu-Gi-Oh…you’ll see), etc. They
belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. YGO belongs to Konami the last time I checked and to the WB
as well. Also, any Sindarin words used belong to the estate of JRR Tolkien (yeah, I’m going there
too, so sue me…) If I happen to write something that coincides with someone else’s story, sorry but
it was unintentional, so don’t flame. Review if you want to, it would be helpful.

**Harry Potter and the Gauntlet**

Chapter 1: The Decision

It was a brilliant dawn on the morning of July 1st, the sun’s rays streaming down on
the peaceful Privet Drive. No one could guess that a tormented young soul was already awake at
number 4. In fact, he had never gone to sleep, for fear of nightmares and memories. More often than
not, the two were one and the same now.

Harry Potter, a 15 year old wizard, sat on his bed staring blankly at the pictures perched on
his desk. Wizard photographs, they all contained moving subjects. The first held him and his
friends after their first year. He, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were all standing there,
grinning precociously at the camera. Those days of youthful innocence and happiness were long gone,
as gone as the occupants in the next picture: Harry’s parents and his godfather, Sirius Black.

Tears immediately welled in Harry’s eyes, but he held them back. One thing that living with the
Dursleys, his only surviving relatives, had taught him was to never show weakness if he could help
it. As much as his heart cried out for release of its torment, he would not let the tears fall. He
could not. Harry had stopped crying years ago.

How he longed to find solace in his friends and *true* family- Hermione and the Weasleys.
But, he was stuck at the Dursley’s for who knew how long. There was no way he was going to get any
comfort from the muggles, no matter what the Order had said to them.

Harry stood up, intending to go out and do something with the day. Perhaps just walking around
would tire him out; allow him to go to sleep?

He quietly made his way downstairs, lightly hopping over the squeaky step near the bottom, and
slipped out the front door. He breathed in the fresh morning air of Privet Drive as he walked down
the street, wandering aimlessly.

Soon, he reached the park that he had spent so much time in last summer. He noticed that a man
was sleeping on a park bench. He looked like he had traveled a long distance, if his somewhat
frayed clothing was any indication. Though sleeping in the park was against city ordinance, Harry
decided to let the man alone. What was that saying? Oh, yeah: *Let sleeping do…*

Harry’s good mood vanished as he remembered the saying. Images of Sirius laughing his bark-like
laugh, chasing his tail in Animagus form, falling through the veil at the Department of Mysteries.
Feeling that his little sojourn outside had been ruined, Harry sank into a swing to rest for a few
moments before heading back to the Dursley’s.

A very distinct popping sound broke Harry from his reverie. Quickly spinning around, Harry was
faced with a sight that made his heart skip a beat – a half dozen people in black wizard robes,
quickly moving to surround him.

Harry whipped out his wand, but he was surrounded, there was no way that he could get out of
this in one piece.

“Well, well,” drawled a voice that Harry had heard in his nightmares for the last week –
Bellatrix Lestrange, “If it isn’t young Potter. Finally decided to come out from under your rock,
eh Potter?”

Harry felt a surge of hatred rush through his veins upon seeing his godfather’s killer. He
remembered what she had told him the last time they had met: *Righteous anger won’t work. You
have to want to cause pain, to relish it…*

He had failed to avenge Sirius last time. He would not make the same mistake twice.

Harry’s mind raced through possible scenarios of what was to come, looking for any way that he
could get out of this tactical nightmare alive.

*Wait a minute… they’ve made a circle around me. They must figure to catch me in their
crossfire. Maybe, if I’m fast enough…*

Lestrange and her fellow Death Eaters raised their wands, muttering curses to throw at Harry. As
they brought their wands down, Harry let his feet fall from under him, dropping him out of their
line of fire temporarily. Of course, since the curses could not meet in the middle at their
original target, they kept going -- at the Death Eaters in their path.

By the time Harry was on his feet again, three of the Death Eaters were down, and the other
three were shooting curses at him wildly. Running around the swing set, Harry fired off a Stunning
spell at one of the black-robed wizards. Harry ducked and spun around, sliding to a stop as a
Killing curse flashed over his head. Launching himself back towards the two remaining Death Eaters,
Harry leapt onto the swing, using his momentum to swing into the second wizard’s face.

Now, it was down to Harry and Lestrange. Harry hopped off of the swing as she looked around at
her downed colleagues. Sneering, she raised her wand, pointing directly at Harry’s chest.

“Well done Potter, but you can’t escape. You couldn’t beat me in the Department of Mysteries,
and you can’t beat me now.”

“*Stupefy!*”

“*Stupefy!*”

The two Stunning curses met between them, melding together before they exploded, knocking both
Harry and Lestrange to the ground. Rolling to a standing position, Harry quickly sent another
Stunning curse at Sirius’ killer, but she was too fast.

“*Protego!*”

“Damn…” Harry spat as he was forced to dodge his reflected Stunning curse. He and Lestrange
circled each other for a few minutes, but Harry was beginning to get tired. While he was beginning
to lag, Lestrange was still going strong, using Killing curse after Killing curse, hoping to catch
him off guard.

*I need something, some kind of surprise to throw her off balance. But what?*

It was then that Harry noticed some of the rubble from destroyed playground equipment behind
Lestrange, particularly a rather large metal pipe. A feral smile made its way onto Harry’s mouth as
he pointed his wand straight at the pipe; though to Lestrange it looked like he was pointing his
wand at her.

“What are you going to do, Potter?” she laughed, “Try to kill me? You had your chance at the
Ministry and you blew it. I will make my master proud when I give him your head tonight…” With
that, Lestrange brought her wand up, intending to end the duel once and for all.

“*Accio!*” Harry shouted.

A puzzled look crossed Lestrange’s face before she laughed and lifted her wand above her head,
“*Avada Ke-*”

*Thunk!*

The pipe slammed into the back of Lestrange’s head, throwing her forward onto the gravel at
Harry’s feet. Smirking, he performed a full body bind on all six Death Eaters, and then kicked
Lestrange over. Her eyes looked a bit glassy, but they cleared as soon as she saw Harry standing
over her with his wand pointed straight at her heart.

“Going to kill me boy?” she sneered, “I guess that Black must have meant a lot to you if you’re
considering that.”

Harry’s eyes widened at her mention of Sirius. His fingers tightened over his wand so much that
his knuckles cracked. *Just do it*, a voice muttered in his head, *Kill her and avenge
Sirius. She took him. She took Sirius away, she deserves to die…*

All of the pain that Harry had experienced since his godfather’s death washed over him full
force, leaving his eyes tear filled and his breathing ragged. She killed him. She killed Sirius.
She and her husband tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity. She deserves to die.

*Do it, do it now before you lose your chance!*

Breathing heavily, Harry raised his wand over his head. The words ‘*Avada Kedavra*’ were on
the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spit out and deal righteous judgment on those whom deserved
it. The woman who robbed Neville of his parents. The monster who took Sirius away from him. She was
an animal that deserved to be put down.

Images of Sirius falling through the veil in the Ministry started flashing through Harry’s mind,
increasing his wrath. Lestrange hitting Sirius in the chest with that curse. Sirius laughing at
Order Headquarters, enjoying himself for the first time in months. Sirius pulling Harry into a hug,
telling him to be careful. Sirius sitting next to Harry in Dumbledore’s office after the Third Task
in fourth year. Wormtail pointing a wand at Cedric, shouting, “*Avada Kedavra!*” Voldemort
casting killing curse after killing curse at Dumbledore, who only cast curses to incapacitate in
return.

Harry, standing over Sirius in his third year, trying to decide if killing the ‘traitor’ was
what he really wanted to do.

*I didn’t kill then.*

Harry looked into the hate-filled eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange and felt an intense surge of
pity.

*And I cannot – will not – kill now. I am not Voldemort*

“I’m sorry.” Harry said looking into Lestrange’s widening eyes.

“What?” she spat incredulously.

“For trying to use the Cruciatus Curse on you in the Ministry. I should have just Stunned you.”
he replied

Lestrange’s eyes got wider, then she sneered and began to retort, “I should have known you’d be
too wea-”

“*Stupefy!*” Harry muttered.

The beam of red light caught Lestrange in the chest, rendering her unconscious. Harry took a
deep breath and began thinking of how to contact the Ministry or the Order when he heard someone
whistling in appreciation behind him.

“Well, I must say that that was quite enlightening. Why didn’t you kill her?”

Harry spun around to find the man that had previously been sleeping on the park bench standing
about ten feet away from him, arms crossed and eye brow raised.

“Um…who are you?” Harry asked. *The man must be a wizard or something. Why else would he be so
calm about all of this?*

“Oh, sorry,” the man said, his face breaking into an easy grin, “My name is Alfirin Istagûl. I
was traveling through this area when I decided to take a rest here.” he said, gesturing to the park
bench.

Harry was still puzzling over the man’s strange name when he noticed that Alfirin was looking
curiously between Harry and Lestrange. Soon, the man said, “Why didn’t you kill that woman? From
what I gathered, she killed someone dear to you?”

“Um…well,” Harry began, a little uncomfortable with the attention that Alfirin was paying to
him. The man was looking Harry straight in the eyes, as if he could peer through them and see
Harry’s thoughts. “She did kill someone – my godfather – but I don’t want to kill her. I don’t
really want to kill anyone.”

*What about Voldemort? Snape? Malfoy?*

Although Harry despised all of them, he didn’t want his potions professor or his most hated
enemy (at school at least) dead. Of course, he wanted Voldemort stopped; he just wasn’t looking
forward to a head-on confrontation in which he would most likely end up dead.

*And if that prophecy is worth anything at all, that’s how it’s going to end.*

Alfirin smiled, as if satisfied with what he’d heard. For the life of him, Harry couldn’t
understand why he was relieved that this total stranger’s approval meant so much to him.

“I must say, I’m surprised. Given your earlier actions at the Ministry, I was worried that you
weren’t a suitable candidate after all. Now, it appears that my patience has proven my first
impressions of you to be correct.” Alfirin said.

Harry jerked in surprise at that. *Wait a minute, how does he know about what happened at the
Ministry? Is he a member of the Order? Is that why no one else has shown up?*

Alfirin laughed and snapped his fingers, after which a bright light blinded Harry. Blinking
rapidly so his eyes would recover, Harry looked around to find that he was no longer in the
playground. He and Alfirin were standing on a large, black marble platform covered in runes unlike
anything Harry had ever seen before. Looking up, Harry noticed that the platform seemed to be
floating in space. There was nothing but a never-ending star field all around them.

With wide eyes, Harry turned back to Alfirin to find that he was no longer wearing frayed,
mismatched clothing. The man stood before him clad in very strange clothes. He was wearing a
bodysuit that was made of some strange red material that shimmered when he moved, making him look
like liquid fire. He also had fingerless gloves and boots made from the same material. There was a
separate article, something that looked like a tunic, but it was gold. It covered both shoulders,
coming down over his chest and back to meet at his waist, where it looked like a sash of the same
material was wrapped around to hold the tunic in place. Under the waist band the cloth continued in
one piece, in both front and back, as flaps that hung down to about mid-thigh.

Raising an eyebrow at the strange garb, Harry asked, “What’s going on?”

“I am not what you think I am, Harry.” Alfirin replied. “You think that I am a wizard. In truth,
I am to wizards what wizards are to insects.” he said with a careless gesture, as if being
exponentially more powerful than a magical being were ‘no big thing.’

At Harry’s skeptical glance, Alfirin sighed, “I see you still have doubts. What will it take to
convince you? Hmmm…”

He walked to the edge of the platform and stared out into the star field for a few moments.
Turning back, he began, “I am not human Harry. I am an immortal, a guardian. Not a guardian of a
place or person. I am a guardian of knowledge, magical and otherwise.”

He paused and looked Harry in the eyes. Though he had just met this man… thing… whatever he was,
Harry knew he was telling the truth. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but it just *felt*
right.

“What do you mean, ‘knowledge?’?” Harry asked, joining Alfirin at the precipice. There were
stars as far as the eye could see in every direction.

“I’m the guardian of the knowledge of Light. A person entrusted with everything needed to fight
for the side of good. And, a few things to cause a little mischief as well.” At Harry’s questioning
look, Alfirin chuckled, “The one entrusted with the ‘Aewonaur Coll’ has to have a little fun too,
you know.”

“The what?”

“The *Aewonaur Coll*. The ‘Phoenix Mantle’ in the language used by those who first held it.
It’s what this ancient knowledge is called. It’s what I would like to bestow upon you.”

Startled, Harry backed away from the edge of the platform. “If you have this power, why do you
want me to have it?”

“Because, Harry,” he sighed, “I’m tired. Tired of constantly fighting, of hiding from those that
want the power I possess. I need a break. I figure that a lifetime or two with nothing to do but
rest and relax would do me a world of good.”

“Er…” Harry said, befuddled, “Do you mean that you just want me to take care of
this…*power*, while you go away?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Alfirin said. “I have been fighting for the forces of Light for the
last 5,000 years Harry. I – I need to go away for a while, and I need someone that I *know*
can handle this responsibility while I’m gone.”

“Why me?”

“Because Harry,” he replied, “You have a good heart. Even when confronting the person that stole
someone so important to you away, you refused to kill. Besides, if anyone needs this knowledge,
this power, it would be you.”

“So you know.” Harry said, sitting down on the marble floor.

Sitting beside him, Alfirin nodded and said, “Yes Harry, I know about the prophecy. And I also
know that, given your current skills, you will not survive a one-on-one confrontation with Riddle.
You need skills that Dumbledore and the rest can’t teach you. With the Mantle, you would have those
skills, that knowledge, and you would stand a chance against the so-called Dark Lord.”

Harry turned his head, green eyes meeting purple. “If I took these powers, what would be
involved?”

“Well,” Alfirin said, sitting back with a grave look on his face, “You would, of course, receive
the Mantle from me. You would also have the Mark of the Guardian placed on your body. After which
you would hold the Phoenix Mantle, and possess all of the knowledge and skills that title
entails.

“Of course, there is one other thing.” Alfirin added. “There is one other like me, an immortal,
who craves the power and knowledge that come with the Mantle. As is his right by ancient law, he
will test you to see if you are worthy of holding it. If you fail his test, you will lose the
power… and your life.”

“What kind of test?” Harry asked.

“A test of your character, your strength, your skill. I should warn you that I have tried to
pass the Mantle on before – no one has ever survived the trials that Iaur Dúath has set forth.”

“But,” Harry replied, puzzled, “How can you pass on the Mantle if those people failed? Didn’t
they lose it?”

“Yes and no.” Alfirin replied. “When your predecessors failed, the power returned to me, as I
was still its rightful guardian. But, I can only pass on the Mantle so many times. This is the last
time that I can pass it on. If you fail, the power will be lost to the darkness.”

Harry was silent for a moment. “What about when I die?”

“Well,” Alfirin replied, “Assuming that you pass the trials, you will keep the powers until the
day you die, at which point I can reclaim them. Of course, since wizards usually live to be about
200 years old, that won’t be for a while. You could always pass the Mantle on, but you must be
careful in doing so – you must choose wisely.”

Harry stared down at the incomprehensible runes around him, lost in thought. If Alfirin was
telling the truth (and Harry had a gut feeling that he was), then Harry would be putting himself in
danger by taking these powers. *It’s not like I’m exactly safe as I am.*

Good point. Harry looked up at Alfirin.

“I’ll do it.”



2. Tough News to Swallow
------------------------

I make no pretense that the Sindarin used in this chapter (yes, this is where it’s going to be
used, so sue me…um, wait, let me rephrase that…), is in any way grammatically correct. I found the
words I needed and placed them in a structure that sounded aesthetically pleasing, at least to me.
I think I used mostly English structure and a little bit of German (eh, write what you know –
that’s why it’s a *little* bit of German. ;p). On with the story.

Chapter 2: Tough News to Swallow

“Good!” Alfirin said, standing up and offering Harry a hand. Taking it, Harry stood up and
followed him to the center of the platform, where a strange contraption had appeared. It had two
handles, attached to bars that were spread out so that a person would have to extend his arms fully
to the sides to grasp them. The arms connected to a large plate, which would be centered over a
person’s back if they held it.

“Take the handles, Harry.” Alfirin said. “This will be a bit painful, and for that I am sorry.
But it will be over fairly quickly, I assure you.”

Nodding, Harry stepped up to the contraption and gripped the handles. Alfirin stood in front of
him and raised his right hand to Harry’s forehead.

“*Annacurunír Aewonaur Coll. Beriacurunír a beriamellyn tîn. Carten na-den tass tîn
telihollen.”* As Alfirin’s deep voice resonated in Harry’s ears, he felt a familiar warmth and
sense of well-being spread through his body. It was the same feeling he had whenever he heard
phoenix song. The warmth turned into a pleasant tingling sensation, and Harry felt as if he were
growing, expanding.

“Pull the handles forward, Harry.”

Straining, Harry brought the handles around in front of him, bringing the plate behind him into
contact with his back. As it happened, he felt two very different sensations simultaneously – the
plate was burning his back through his shirt, like an iron or brand, while a floodgate was opened
in his head, swamping his consciousness with a sensory overload.

Eons of knowledge, both magical and otherwise, opened up in Harry’s mind while the plate burned
into his back. All of the aspects of magic that had eluded him for the last five years suddenly
made sense. Hundreds of languages ran through his head, mathematical equations, rules and theorems
appeared – all of it as easy to understand as flying on a broomstick.

Harry was assimilating so much, that he almost didn’t notice when Alfirin removed his hand and
backed away. “Alright Harry, you can stop now.”

Groaning from the pain, Harry let his arms go slack as he stumbled away from the brand. He
dropped to his knees, falling forward until his forehead rested against the cool marble of the
platform. The burning sensation in his back was rapidly receding, as if it were healing at an
accelerated rate.

“Would you like to see it?” Alfirin asked.

“Huh?” Harry mumbled, still groggy from what had just happened. He shook his head, trying to
clear the cobwebs. *Oh yeah, the brand on my back…* *I need a mirror.*

As soon as he thought that, dozens of different ways to produce mirrors – magical and otherwise
– surfaced in his mind. He chose one and concentrated. With a small *pop!* an ornate
full-length mirror in a solid silver frame appeared before him. Standing, Harry shed his shirt and
turned around, looking over his shoulder at his back.

What he saw made him gasp in shock – in the middle of his back was the picture of a phoenix,
wings spread. It looked more like a tattoo instead of a burn mark, which Harry supposed was a good
thing. It was when he was admiring how regal the mark looked when he noticed something else: the
muscles in his back seemed a bit more defined.

“No, that’s not the Mantle at work,” Alfirin chuckled at Harry’s questioning glance, “You had
quite a growth spurt, you were just too busy grieving to notice.”

Harry turned around to see that Alfirin was right – he had grown at least four inches. He was
now about 5’11”, and his musculature had dramatically changed. While he had always been slim and
wiry, it was mostly due to lack of food. Any mass he gained at Hogwarts was usually lost over the
summer, because the food he got from the Weasleys or Hermione was usually cakes and other
not-so-wholesome items. However, after the Order threatened the Dursleys at King’s Cross at the
beginning of the summer, Harry’s “family” had been feeding him regularly.

Apparently, the regular eating had done him a world of good, as had his being constantly active
since Sirius’ death. He couldn’t remember ever being in such great shape. *Wait till everybody
sees this…*

Harry looked down at his shirt and frowned. It was old and frayed to begin with, now the back
was burned out of it. In fact, all of his clothes were old hand-me-downs from his cousin, Dudley.
Focusing on his clothes, Harry pictured in his mind what he wanted them to look like and
transfigured them to match what he imagined.

He was left with black square-toed boots, black slacks and a skin tight black t-shirt, as well
as the new long-sleeved white silk shirt he had changed Dudley’s old shirt into. This he put on,
but left unbuttoned. He left his belt as it was – the black strip of leather was the only article
he had had that fit him well.

It wasn’t until he had done all of this that something donned on him: he had just done wandless
magic. *Lots* of wandless magic. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Alfirin, who chuckled.

“Wizards use wands to focus their power, but that’s because they aren’t truly aware of magic.
Sure, they can sense it and manipulate it, but they don’t know how extensive it is – it’s still a
mystery to all but a select few wizards.”

“I’m guessing that those ‘select few’ would be Dumbledore and Voldemort.” Harry said.

“Yes, them and… what did you call him? Oh, yes, Merlin. Of course, given what you now have
access to their awareness is comparable to that of a Muggle.” Alfirin replied.

Harry’s eyebrows receded into his hair line. This was getting interesting.

“Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean that you will win against Mr. Riddle. Having all of
this knowledge and power is one thing, but using it effectively is up to you. I would suggest that
you practice when you return, which will be shortly.” Alfirin said as he turned away and snapped
his fingers, conjuring a doorway of light in the center of the platform.

“Wait a minute,” Harry began as Alfirin began to push him towards the doorway, “Is that it? It’s
just, ‘Here are some powers, now go away!’”

“If I’m truly needed, I will return.” Alfirin said as he pushed Harry through the doorway. As he
was surrounded by this blinding light, he heard Alfirin’s voice echoing around him, “Be careful Mr.
Potter. I fear that you will be tested soon enough, so get used to your newfound knowledge and use
it well. There are some trying times ahead, in more ways than you can imagine.”

“Umph!” Harry grunted as he came out of the expanse of light he had just traveled through. He
managed to stay on his feet, an accomplishment he had yet to achieve when traveling by Floo powder
or Portkey, and brushed off his shoulders.

*Crack! Crack! Crackcrackcrack!*

Dozens of wizards and witches had just Apparated in, surrounding Harry. He froze for a second
until he realized that none of them were wearing black robes or had on masks. These weren’t Death
Eaters. In fact, they were the next worst thing – Ministry officials.

“Potter, you have been warned repeatedly tha-” one of them began before his jaw sagged to his
chest. Littering the ground at Harry’s feet were the six Death Eaters he had captured before
Alfirin showed up. Looking over the wizard’s shoulder, he saw that the large clock on the nearby
school building read that not even a minute had passed since he had knocked out Lestrange, which
was odd, since he had spent nearly an hour in the star field with Alfirin.

*I guess time passes differently there than it does here.*

Looking around at all of the awe-struck magicians, Harry noticed a couple of familiar faces –
Nymphadora Tonks, the Metamorphmagus, and Kingsley Shacklebolt; both were Aurors and both were
members of the Order of the Phoenix. Both kept shooting furtive glances at him, asking silently if
he had done this by himself. Grinning mischievously, he nodded and quirked an eyebrow. This was
going to be interesting.

While several of the wizards and witches bustled about, trying to get everything under control,
Tonks and Shacklebolt made their way over to Harry. Tonks’ violent violet hair was up in its usual
spikes, which looked oddly appropriate on her heart-shaped face. In contrast, Shacklebolt’s bald
pate shined dully in the morning sun (several wise cracks fought tooth and nail to escape from
Harry’s lips, but he tramped them down). The large black Auror stood a head taller than his young
companion. The large gold earrings in his lobes, the only adornments he had, caught the light as he
stepped forward.

“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks grinned.

“Potter.” Shacklebolt rumbled in his deep voice.

“Wotcher, Tonks! What’s up?” Harry smiled.

Raising his eyebrows, Shacklebolt made a point to glance at the six Death Eaters that were being
taken off to the Ministry before they were shipped to Azkaban. Hopefully, even though the Dementors
had abandoned the wizard prison, Voldemort’s followers would stay locked up.

Smiling, Harry simply shrugged a shoulder in a ‘no biggie’ gesture. *Yes, taking down six
Death Eaters is no problem, especially when you couldn’t even handle* one *of them a few weeks
ago.*

“I’ll tell you later,” Harry muttered to them as the other witches and wizards in attendance
began to make their way over to him. *Oh boy, this is going to suck…*

“Potter, what happened?” said the lead wizard, whom Harry couldn’t recognize. The way that Tonks
and Shacklebolt acted around him suggested that he was a bit higher up than them in the ministry,
possibly an Auror.

Sighing, Harry told them how he had disarmed and taken down the six Dark wizards and witch,
conveniently leaving out any mention of Alfirin, the Phoenix Mantle and everything else that had
happened after the fight. *That* was none of their business.

After he was done, he had to struggle to keep from laughing at the various awe-struck looks and
gaping mouths of the adults around him. While most of them looked dazzled, he didn’t miss the faint
twinkling of pride in Tonks’ and Shacklebolt’s eyes. The struggle to keep from laughing increased
exponentially.

After a few minutes, many of the Aurors and Ministry officials rounded up the Death Eaters and
left, leaving behind Tonks and Shacklebolt to escort Harry back to the Dursley’s. During the walk
back, they both bombarded him with questions, mostly about how he was coping and if he had had any
more dreams or visions about Voldemort.

“No, not really,” Harry said, “I haven’t had any more visions of people getting tortured or
dying. Most of my dreams have been about Sirius…”

Both of the Aurors winced at this and looked at each other before placing comforting hands on
his shoulders. “It wasn’t your fault, Harry. You were trying to save his life.” Tonks said. “Plus,
from what I heard, that wanker Snape didn’t really help all that much with your Occlumancy
lessons.”

Harry snorted at that, glad to know that at least he wasn’t the only one who didn’t like Snape.
From the way Shacklebolt was shaking his head and chuckling, it appeared that his opinion of the
potions master was in line with the general consensus.

“By the way, we have some messages from everyone at Headquarters,” the tall Auror rumbled,
slipping several envelopes from his robes and handing them to Harry. Indeed, they were from his
friends and other Order members. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Moony. However,
Harry found that his eyes could barely leave the envelope with Hermione’s elegant script.

It had not escaped his notice, the feelings that had been bubbling up whenever he thought of his
bushy-haired friend. The incredible guilt of losing his temper with her so many times last year,
the intense fear when Dolohov hit her with that strange curse, the mixture of relief and regret
seeing her awake in the Hospital wing, yet in great pain.

Smiling, he nodded his thanks to the Aurors for bringing him the letters. Before he knew it,
they were outside number four, his ‘home’, and their visit was coming to an end. He sighed as he
reached for the door handle, turning to bid farewell to the only people who would appreciate his
presence for some time to come.

“Harry, Dumbledore wanted us to tell you that you won’t have to stay here to much longer.
Something about another three days would be sufficient, whatever that means.” Tonks said
quickly.

Three more days for the charm that his mother placed on him, by sacrificing her life to save
his, to protect him from Voldemort. Except for the fact that he and Voldemort now shared blood,
which means that they both share Lily Potter’s protection, at least from each other. The charm also
made a safe haven of any residence that housed her blood – which meant Petunia Dursley’s house. As
long as he could call Number four, Privet Drive his home, he could not be attacked by Voldemort
there.

This didn’t mean that he enjoyed staying there, with three people who would gladly dance on his
grave, singing Christmas carols and getting pissed. However, if he was to leave the Dursley’s in
three days time, the number of possible destinations was limited to either the Burrow or Order
Headquarters. Surely, they wouldn’t make him go back to Sirius’ house…

“So who’s taking me to the Burrow?” Harry asked hopefully.

Tonks and Shacklebolt shared a knowing glance, as if they knew that Harry would react this way.
That could only mean one thing, something that Harry inwardly groaned about: he was going to Number
twelve, Grimmauld Place. Order Headquarters.

As much as he had progressed in his grieving for Sirius, Harry knew that he wasn’t ready to go
back to Sirius’ old house. Being in the house where his godfather grew up, where his last good
memories of Sirius took place, would be a lot to handle. That’s not even taking into account what
would happen if he ran into Kreacher. The treacherous house elf had been largely responsible for
sending Harry off to the Department of Mysteries, taking orders from Narcissa Malfoy on behalf of
Voldemort.

Harry took a deep breath and blew it out, trying to calm his anxiety. *Sirius is dead and
gone, there’s nothing you can do about it. He’s not coming back, and stressing out over going to
his house won’t solve anything.*

He looked at the worrying faces of Tonks and Shacklebolt and gave a pained smile, “I’ll be okay.
How are you two holding up?”

Though surprised, they both replied with an, “Okay.” All too soon, they turned to leave, wishing
Harry well before Disapparating. Harry sighed and entered the house, taking care not to make any
noise as he went upstairs to his room. Upon entering his room, he collapsed into the chair in front
of his desk and opened up Remus’ letter first.

Dear Harry,

How are you holding up? Listen, I know that it’s not easy with Sirius gone, but you need to know
that it’s not your fault that he fell through the veil – that blame lies with Bellatrix Lestrange.
I’ll try to get into contact with you soon so that we can have an actual conversation about
this.

I also know that you’ll be here at Headquarters soon, and I can hardly wait for you to get here.
You’ll be happy to know that Kreacher is gone, as well as the portrait of Sirius’ mother. I do
believe that Molly has made this place a bit more hospitable. All of your friends are here, at
least the Weasleys and Hermione are. When you get here there are some matters concerning Sirius’
estate that we need to go over.

I know that it’s hard Harry, but you should know that we all care about you, not because you’re
the Boy-That-Lived, but because you’re Harry Potter, our friend.

Moony

Harry smiled; he couldn’t wait until he got to see Remus again. Everyone was staying at
Grimmauld Place. Including Hermione. Harry’s smile grew larger as he thought about seeing Hermione
again. She had been so patient with him last year, always standing by his side. He still remembered
how she’d saved him from Umbridge when he was caught in her office.

With these thoughts running through his mind, he picked up her letter and hurriedly opened it.
He couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say.

Dear Harry,

I do hope that you aren’t being too hard on yourself. Sirius’ death was not your fault. In any
case, I know that you are feeling horrible right now, but please just try to wait another few days,
and then you can come to Headquarters. When you finally get away from those dreadful relatives of
yours, we’ll be here for you.

I don’t know about you, but I can hardly wait for our O.W.L. results to come in! I do hope that
I passed all of my subjects. Do you know when they’ll be in?

I also have wonderful news – Ron asked me to be his girlfriend! I could hardly believe it, and I
said yes! He finally got over his problems with Viktor and asked me out. He was so adorable! You’re
okay with this, aren’t you?

Please be careful, Voldemort is still after you, you know. And don’t take any stupid risks
before you get here! Just be safe.

Love,

Hermione

Hermione’s letter fell to the floor as Harry sagged forward in his chair. *Hermione and Ron
together. How could I have missed this?*

Sure, he had noticed their fights over the years, but he had never really connected those fights
with attraction. To be sure, he knew that Ron had a soft spot for Hermione, but Harry was
flabbergasted to know that she returned that affection. *Just how blind am I?*

Realization that his best friends were now a couple sank in slowly as Harry got up only to fall
right into bed, groaning unintelligibly. Once he got to Order Headquarters, he would have to see
Ron and Hermione, the girl that held his heart, behave like a couple. Ron would be the one that got
to hold her hand, open doors for her, hear her laughter.

*What if I have to see them kissing? Do I really want to see Ron and* Hermione *engrossed
in a snog-fest?*

At this mental image, Harry groaned again. This was going to be a long couple of days.



3. Actions and Reactions
------------------------

A/N: I don’t know how clear I was when I was describing the outfit that Alfirin was (and later
Harry will be) wearing. If you’ve seen Mortal Kombat, and you can remember what Sub-Zero, Scorpion
and Reptile’s costumes looked like; Alfirin’s clothes were like that. Just without the hood and
mask or the arm and leg guards. I didn’t realize that was what I was picturing until I put MK in my
DVD player and saw them come on screen.

Also, I will probably not be replying to a lot of my reviews. Rest assured that I do appreciate
them greatly, but it irks me when I see a chapter that looks like it’s going to be really long, and
half of it is responses to reviews. So, from now on, if I have something really important to say,
I’ll say it before the chapter starts.

**Chapter 3: Actions and Reactions**

One big drawback to having all of these new abilities was that Harry couldn’t use them. Once he
used any kind of magic, the Ministry would be all over him, trying to expel him again. While the
truth of Voldemort’s return was now out in the open, Harry wasn’t by any means exempted from the
laws, even if he was back in just about everyone’s good graces.

So, the first thing he would have to do would be to find out how to do magic without the
Ministry knowing about it. Harry had been putting a lot of thought into using his newly acquired
knowledge since getting the letters from his friends the day before, but he was still pondering how
to go about doing it without getting caught. For the last few hours, since he had awoken at dawn,
Harry had sat cross-legged on his bed, trying to figure out how to get away with doing magic.

*The major problem,* Harry thought, *isn’t actually getting around the Ministry of Magic,
but keeping a low profile outside of Hogwarts. People are going to notice if I start doing things
that require magic during the summer, especially before my seventeenth birthday.*

Coming of age for magical people was rather different than it was for simple Muggles. A wizard
or witch sends out signals, a kind of magical resonance, during childhood, which is how the
Ministry finds Muggle-born wizards and witches. It is also how the Ministry knows when people who
are underage are using magic outside of school.

*That’s also how Dumbledore’s Age Line worked in fourth year. Even though Fred and George had
aged their bodies, their resonances were still in place. They couldn’t hide that.*

But Harry could.

It was a simple matter, really. He couldn’t simply cut off his resonance, since those who were
monitoring at the Ministry would think he was dead. What he could do was to *freeze* his
resonance, as it were, so that it wouldn’t register any magic being done by him while he was
outside of school. It was sort of like making a security camera freeze the image when the room was
clear, so that anyone entering the room wouldn’t be seen by those watching the monitors. All they
would see would be the empty room.

*And all the Ministry will detect is a sixteen year old following the laws, not doing any
magic.*

Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply, focusing inward. One thing that he had discovered
upon awakening that morning was that he could actually *see* the magic around him if he
focused enough. All he had been trying to do was figure out the best way to get around the
Ministry’s rules about underage magic, and *WHAM!* he could see the magical eddies flowing
through his room.

Now, he was using this skill to locate and observe his own magical resonance. Within a few
minutes he had found it. Watching it closely, Harry saw the pattern that his resonance had and
quickly set to work on a way to project the same harmonics no matter what he was doing. It wasn’t
long until he had worked up a way to mask his true resonance with a facsimile. Now, no matter what
he did, the Ministry would remain unaware.

Standing up and stretching, Harry looked around his room trying to decide what he wanted to do
with his newly acquired freedom. Looking over at his cupboard, he noticed that aside from the
clothes he had transfigured the day before, all of his hand-me-downs from Dudley were just as
threadbare. Looking at his large collection of oversized clothes, Harry smiled and got to work.

About a half hour later, Harry stood in front of his cupboard looking at his new wardrobe.
Shirts, both short- and long-sleeved, slacks that actually fit, and a couple of jackets (leather
and dragon hide), nearly all of it in various shades of black or white.

After all of this was done, Harry remembered the appointment he had later in the day – with Dr.
Ortega. Before he had come back to the Dursley’s, Harry had taken out enough money to pay for a
‘rather simple operation.’ Laser eye surgery was supposed to be safe, easy and very effective.
Harry just hoped that it would work.

Slipping on a long-sleeved black silk shirt and matching slacks, Harry got out the leather
trench coat that he had just made and put it on. It was unseasonably cold in Surrey that day, and
Harry didn’t want to freeze to death on the way to the doctor.

Thundering down the stairs and heading out the door, he threw a casual, “See you in a few
hours,” to his relatives, who were standing in the kitchen with their mouths agape.

Trotting down the street to the bus stop, Harry sighed for what had to be the hundredth time
that day. His enthusiasm for having his new abilities was severely hampered by his deepening
depression resulting from Hermione’s news. He would have been lying to himself if he said that he
just thought of her as a friend, and that he was glad that Ron had finally got the nerve to ask her
out. At that last thought, Harry snorted in self-disgust as he got up to board the arriving
bus.

*If Hermione is happy, then I should be too. She’s with who she wants to be with, and being
selfish about this will only end up hurting everybody.*

No matter how disappointed Harry was, he would do nothing to try to hurt his best friends. Not
Ron and not Hermione. Definitely not Hermione.

*But why does it always have to be* me *that gets hurt?*

Watching the passing cars and buildings, Harry snorted again. That thought was just as
uncharitable as the ones deriding Hermione’s and Ron’s budding relationship. Harry was not by far
the only one to suffer. *And it would be best not to forget that.*

The ride into London didn’t take nearly as long as Harry had thought it would, and soon he found
himself standing outside the offices of Dr. Gregory Ortega, runner of the finest laser eye surgery
clinic in the greater London area. Today, Harry was going to get rid of those god-awful glasses,
once and for-all.

A little over an hour later, Harry walked out of Ortega’s office, eyes hidden behind stylish
shades. The good doctor had told him that he had to wear the glasses for at least a couple of days,
just until his eyes recovered. Afterwards, his brilliantly green eyes would have to hide behind
corrective – or protective – lens no longer.

Deciding to stop at a deli to have lunch before returning to the Dursley’s, Harry turned right
upon exiting the clinic and headed down toward the little Italian place he’d seen coming to the
doctor’s.

The deli had a warm, comfortable atmosphere to it that just begged a customer to come in and
stay a while. The large man behind the counter wore a constant smile, making him look much younger
than he actually was. Harry liked the place immediately.

Walking up to the counter, he smiled and ordered a sub sandwich and a bottle of water. Paying
the man, he turned around and found a nice, quiet corner to sit in and observe the other patrons as
he ate.

Other than himself, there were only a handful of other people in the deli. There was a young
woman who was glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, taking in his attire and physique
admiringly. Blushing a tad bit, Harry gave her a nod to tell her he saw and her cheeks quickly
turned red as she turned back to her meal.

At a table against the wall, a young man sat fidgeting with his lighter. He looked like a punk,
with his hair spiked up, studded collar and black eyeliner. Something about him seemed off to
Harry, and the man gave him an eerie feeling.

The two remaining customers were sitting at a table together, heads bent down in whispered
conversation. They were an older couple, easily in their late thirties or early forties, and they
looked strangely familiar to Harry. For the life of him though, he couldn’t place their faces.

As he was finishing his meal, the ‘young punk’ stood up and walked up to the counter, putting
his hand into his coat while doing so. *Uh oh, this isn’t looking good…*

The man pulled out a large knife, the blade alone at least eight inches long, and grabbed the
man behind the counter, screaming, “Give me all the money in the till, or I’ll slit your goddamn
throat!”

The couple and the lone woman froze, as did the deli owner. It was rather obvious that this man
was deadly serious about what he was doing. “All right son, don’t do anything rash…” the old man
began, only to have his younger assailant growl and haul him over the counter, throwing him to the
floor.

The other diners gasped and scooted away from the counter, trying to distance themselves from
the robber. Harry, on the other hand, stood up silently, moving towards the downed shop owner.
Standing over the older man, Harry held out his hand, helping him up. Before the man could approach
his attacker, Harry blocked him and said, “Let me handle this sir.”

By this time, the perpetrator had cleaned out the till and was coming back around the counter.
Before he could get up to a full run for the door, Harry was in his way. Snarling, the robber
stabbed out with his knife, trying to run Harry through as he ran. Smiling, Harry spun on his left
foot, taking him out of the line the knife was traveling down, and bringing him to the side of the
crook as he passed. As he was completing his full turn, Harry snapped his right arm out and gave a
sharp blow to the back of the crook’s neck with his fully extended hand.

“Urk!” the robber gasped as Harry’s blow landed, forcing him along the path he had been running.
Unfortunately, his feet were no longer under him, and he couldn’t stop before he hit the glass door
to the deli.

*Crash!*

The glass exploded outwards onto the sidewalk, raining down on the crook. Once he hit the
concrete, the robber didn’t move again: he was either unconscious or dead, considering the odd way
his head was angled. Stepping over the frame of the door, Harry checked the man he had just
incapacitated.

The man was breathing shallowly, and his neck wasn’t broken. Standing up and looking back to the
people inside the deli, all of whom were staring at him mouths agape, he said, “Sorry about the
door.”

Not wishing to stay for the police and gathering crowd, he turned around and with his coat
billowing out behind him he walked away. About three blocks later, he entered a dark alley and
leaned up against a wall, sighing heavily.

*Great, Harry, just great. Alone for barely a day and you’re playing the superhero. Why don’t
you just take out an ad in the* Daily Prophet*, telling Voldemort and his cronies what you can
do?*

Harry was jerked out of his reverie by the sounds of police sirens in the distance. He was about
to try Apparating back to the Dursley’s when he thought of something else that he’d wanted to do
since his first class of Transfiguration: transform into an animal.

Smiling, Harry concentrated on Human transformations, his newfound powers bringing up everything
necessary to become an Animagus. Basically, with enough control, anyone could become an animal, but
the skill was so rarely needed in everyday life that most people chose not to even attempt it.
That’s not to say that it is easy to do, far from it, but it’s not impossible either.

In fact, the only reason most people only choose one animal form, such as Professor McGonagall
and her cat form or Rita Skeeter and her beetle form, is that everyone has an animal that they have
a natural affinity and bond with. These animals are easier to turn into for an Animagus, thus
cutting the effort required down considerably.

Of course, with all of Harry’s abilities and powers, it really wasn’t any effort at all. He was
surprised upon looking inside of himself and finding that his animal wasn’t normal by any means. He
had thought he would be something that flew, given his love of flying, and he wasn’t wrong. He had
even entertained the notion that he would be bonded with a phoenix, considering the powers he had
always displayed and the title he now held, but what he could ‘naturally’ become, as it were, was
even rarer than the ancient bird of flame.

In fact, in all of his extensive knowledge, Harry could find no other case where a wizard or
witch had a connection to the animal that he saw within himself. When he saw it in all its glory,
his eyes grew wide with shock and disbelief.

“Whoa…” he said, slightly breathless with his newest discovery of his abilities, “Now is
definitely *not* the time to turn into *that*!”

Flying back to the Dursley’s was one thing. Causing a panic in the population of greater London
while doing it was something else entirely.

Shaking his head, Harry thought about what kind of bird would not be too conspicuous to use for
his first ever broom-less flight. Flitting through about 300 different possibilities in his mind’s
eye, Harry stopped on one that looked like it had the potential to be lots of fun.

It wasn’t too big, but it had a diving speed that approached 322 kilometers an hour – the
Peregrine Falcon. Harry smiled and set about making his inaugural Animagus transformation.

With the knowledge of the Mantle, the transformation was actually quite easy to accomplish. It
was a tad disconcerting to feel his bones crunching and twisting, and his internal organs moving
about or disappearing altogether. It was nowhere near as painful as it could be. Thinking back to
the creature that he already had a connection to, he shivered at the thought of how painful it
would be to change into *that*.

Within the span of a few seconds, a Peregrine stood where a young man once did. With a
rebellious screech, it took flight, dancing an intricate ballet through the sky. If someone could
have seen its peculiarly green eyes, they would have seen unadulterated joy.

An hour later, a falcon glided elegantly into the smallest bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive,
landing lightly on the dilapidated mattress. Hedwig, startled by the appearance of the bird of
prey, hooted loudly and puffed up, trying to frighten off the brash intruder.

A few seconds later, her master sat where the falcon had been. Even more surprised, Hedwig
actually fell off of her perch into her water bowl. Upon seeing this, Harry burst out laughing,
which increased the snowy owl’s ire. Snapping her beak at him, she turned her head in a dignified
manner towards the window – or at least as dignified a manner as is possible when dripping wet and
ruffled.

Still chortling, Harry made his way downstairs to begin dinner for the Dursley’s. After all,
there was no reason to make them suspect that he was any different. Besides, he had plans for them
the day after tomorrow before he left, and he needed them to be off their guard when it
happened.

The rest of the day, and the one after, passed without incident, giving Harry more time to
practice the ‘prank’ he would pull on his relatives and the further explore what he was capable of.
In fact, he was currently experimenting with memory extracts and charms, and how to give them to
people, to make them experience memories.

Of course, the Dursleys just thought that he was making breakfast as usual.

Smiling, Harry looked at the clock on the counter. The others would be there to pick him up in
about half an hour. Just enough time to put his plan into motion.

For Dudley, he’d prepared a Belgian waffle meal laced with memories of being chased and beaten
up. For Petunia, French toast with memories of being locked in the cupboard and verbal abuse. Uncle
Vernon got the Brioche smothered in marmalade, laced with memories of beatings and daily
humiliations.

The true source of pride for Harry with his creations would be that instead of being observers
in these memories, his relatives would actually relive all of the horrible things they’d done to
him – from his point of view, with his emotions and their own.

Some people might consider this a tad cruel, but so was knocking a four year old to the ground
because he woke you up to seek comfort during a thunderstorm. With a savage grin on his face, Harry
put the final touches on the various dishes and set them out on the table. Just as the Dursleys
came downstairs, Harry excused himself and went upstairs to get ready for the arrival of his
*real* family.

Half an hour later, on the dot, the door bell rang. His trunk and Hedwig’s cage already
downstairs, Harry excitedly opened the front door to greet his friends. He wasn’t prepared for what
came next.

Before he could do anything, he was blinded by a wall of brown hair. He would have shouted his
surprise, but the bear hug he’d found himself in made that all but impossible. It wasn’t until he’d
caught the familiar scent of lilacs and honeysuckle that he realized who was trying to crush him to
death.

“Hermione, didn’t you get enough of trying to suffocate him last summer?” Ron’s voice chided
from somewhere beyond the forest of brown curls. Finally taking her arms from around Harry,
Hermione stepped back to stand next to Ron at the doorstep, blushing and stammering, “I-I’m sorry,
H-Harry, I didn’t…”

Harry realized that Hermione’s eyes had widened substantially, as had Ron’s, Remus’, Tonks’ and
Mad-Eye’s. Not knowing what to make of their odd behavior, Harry shifted from foot to foot and
asked, “What?”

What he obviously hadn’t noticed *was* obvious to his friends: Harry had definitely changed
in the last week and a half. It seemed almost impossible that someone could grow that much and put
on that much mass in just under ten days, but the proof was standing self-consciously in front of
them.

*Wait a minute,* Hermione thought, *since when does Harry not need glasses? And when did
he get so… muscular?*

Hermione had blushed quite a bit when stepping away from Harry for two reasons: the first was,
she’d acted rather silly in greeting a friend she had seen not two weeks ago and the second was
that Harry had most *definitely* matured physically in that time. Gone was the small, skinny,
knobby kneed boy who hid enchanting emerald eyes behind round spectacles. In his place was a tall,
well toned young man whose gorgeous eyes were unfettered, allowing everyone to drown in those green
pools.

Harry, who was easily Ron’s height now, looked questioningly at the five wizards and witches
gathered on his stoop, goggling at him. It was a few seconds before Tonks said what was on all
their minds, especially Hermione’s.

“Bloody Hell! Lookin’ good there Harry! You been working out?”

Looking down at himself, Harry’s head shot up and he blushed furiously, “Uh…well, that is
say…um…”

“Well,” Moody interrupted, “We’d better be off. It’s not safe to be seen out in the open like
this.”

Nodding, Harry handed Hedwig’s cage to Ron and picked up his trunk, not noticing the raised
eyebrows behind him as he did so. Closing the door behind him, Harry followed them to the car
parked at the curb.

Upon opening the boot, Harry saw that the area had been magically enlarged to accommodate his
luggage with Hermione’s and Ron’s. After placing his trunk in the only available space, Harry
slammed the boot shut and got in the back seat. Ron was sitting next to a window and Hermione was
sitting in the middle, with Harry taking the last seat in the back. Remus and Tonks were up front,
with Tonks driving, as she was the only adult there that came from an at least part-muggle
home.

Throughout the entire trip, which lasted nearly two hours since they were stuck on the ground,
Harry had to endure both seeing Hermione and Ron behaving like a happy new couple and the constant
small talk from the front. It wasn’t until they were turning onto Grimmauld Place that Remus
broached the subject of the attack on Harry.

“I still can’t believe you managed to capture Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry. You know, with her
testimony – under Veritaserum, or course – we can get Sirius’ name cleared. After his name is
cleared, we can have a memorial for him, if you want.”

“Wait a minute,” Hermione interrupted, “When did you capture Lestrange, Harry?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Harry looked at Remus and Tonks, both of whom looked as if they’d just
done something incredibly stupid. Looking back at his two friends, Harry saw that they were looking
at him in confusion, obviously wanting to know what was going on.

“No one told you anything?” he said.

“No, mate. What are they talking about?” Ron said.

Not knowing if they were serious or not, Harry looked to Hermione, trying to see if they were
putting him on or something. All he saw in her mocha eyes was concern, and a little bit of hurt.
For what, he had no idea.

Sighing, Harry went through the story he’d told the Aurors after he’d returned from the
platform, obviously leaving out any mention of Alfirin and the Phoenix Mantle. Harry couldn’t be
sure, but he had a feeling that Ron would probably have a repeat of his little spat from fourth
year if he found out that Harry was now the holder of the greatest power in the world. *Then he
was mad about being overshadowed by a school champion. What would he do if he learned I was the
champion of all that’s good?*

As he finished his story, Ron and Hermione both sat there with their mouths agape. “Bloody Hell
Harry!” Ron began, “That’s incredible! Why didn’t you lot tell us anything?” The last part he
directed towards Remus and Tonks, both of whom looked like the world was going to come to an
end.

“Dumbledore instructed us not to tell you anything, since Harry wasn’t hurt. He didn’t want to
worry you needlessly. Besides, there were some things that he wanted to discuss with Harry before
you knew anything.” Tonks said as she opened the boot of the car, helping them get their trunks
out. Ron immediately grabbed his and walked inside, shaking his head at his best friend’s lack of
even a week of peace.

Hermione, looking after him, sighed and grabbed her trunk as well, before Harry said, “Here,
Hermione, let me get that.” Before she could say anything, Harry grabbed her trunk and placed it on
top of his own, then picked both up with little difficulty.

As he was walking back into the house behind Tonks and Remus, Hermione stood in shock; she’d
packed all of her things in that trunk, and it weighed at least 100 kilos. She’d hoped that Ron
would have helped her with it, but he was obviously preoccupied with something.

*Probably dinner,* she thought.

Shaking her head, Hermione made her way into Order Headquarters, trying to figure out why she
felt so hurt that Harry hadn’t told her about the attack, and why she was reacting so strangely to
his presence.



4. Iaur Dúath
-------------

**Chapter 4: Iaur Dúath**

Shutting the door behind her, Hermione blinked for a few moments to let her eyes adjust to the
dark interior of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Once she could see clearly, she looked around for Harry
or Ron, but they were no where in sight. After a couple of minutes, she heard a thump from upstairs
and then Harry’s voice. Biting her lower lip, she made her way to the second landing, and for some
reason she found herself gathering all of her nerve just to talk to one of her best friends.

“I tell you Harry, this year is already shaping up to be a good one.” Ron said from within the
room Hermione was approaching. He really liked the fact that they were together now, which Hermione
had to smile at. He was still rather insensitive at times, and would stop whatever he was doing at
the drop of a hat if food was around, but she didn’t mind all that much, really. Ron was still
sweet and kind, and cared for her a great deal.

Truth be told, Hermione had always been confused about her feelings regarding her two best
friends. On one hand, there was Ron, who was kind of cute, even if he was a bit lanky, and
good-natured. The two of them were always getting into arguments about something, but lately she’d
put that down to “hidden passions” or something of the sort. Though she cared about Ron deeply,
Hermione didn’t feel the all consuming passion she’d expected when she first agreed to start dating
Ron. Sure, they’d kissed a few times, but it wasn’t anything impressive. There was no gasping for
breath afterwards, or seeing stars, like she’d heard Lavender and Parvati giggling about late at
night in the girl dormitories. There was no electricity to their contact.

And then there was Harry. Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived, to all those that didn’t know him
that well. Or, the youngest Seeker in a century, to most of the people at Hogwarts. Any number of
things, actually, to all of those people who looked at the fifteen soon-to-be sixteen year old
young man, except for what he *really* was. Kind. Resourceful. A good person and a better
friend. The excitement that Hermione had been expecting from her relationship with Ron she
naturally felt around Harry. It was Harry she couldn’t take her eyes off of at all those Quidditch
games, even the ones where Ron was playing. It was Harry, poor suffering Harry, who had been
sitting by her bedside when she woke up after what happened at the Department of Mysteries. Harry
who had waited for her in the lake, when he had Ron and Cho had already been taken by Cedric. And,
though it felt *sooo* good when she found out that Harry had stayed to make sure that she’d be
alright, Hermione couldn’t forget the way he’d used to talk about and look at Cho. He never had,
and probably never would, look at her like that – not when he had his choice of any witch in the
wizarding world. Who wouldn’t want *the* Harry Potter?

When it came down to it, Ron liked her and Harry didn’t, at least not the same way that Ron did.
With Ron, she had a future. A future with someone who cared for her, someone who wanted her.

Still, Hermione didn’t like the fact that the primary reason she was with Ron was because she
was sure that her other best friend didn’t like her in that way. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had
those feelings for Harry anyway! That was preposterous!

As Hermione approached the doorway, Harry came out with his trunk in his arms. He stopped for a
second when he saw her, then nodded and made his way upstairs. Hermione hesitated for a second, and
then followed him up. Ron came out of the room that she and Ginny would be sharing, after helping
Harry put away Hermione’s luggage, and went upstairs as well. He quickly caught up with Hermione,
who was standing out side of the bedroom on the third landing that had previously belonged to
Sirius.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other askance, wondering how Harry would be able to deal with
being in the house that Sirius had all but been trapped in for the last year of his life. From the
looks of it, Harry had dealt with his grief and survivors’ guilt just fine in the scant matter of
days that he’d been on his own. He looked as if he were calmer and more collected than he was
before they were forced to let him go home with those damnable monsters the Dursleys.

*I just hope he doesn’t blow up at us again,* Hermione thought with a trace of bitterness,
since often times she was the one who caught the brunt of Harry’s wrath the previous year. Though
he had calmed down somewhat as their fifth year progressed, when he began to shout at her after the
History of Magic O.W.L. exam, she’d actually thought he was going to hit her. That was the only
time she could even remember being even momentarily afraid of her best friend.

“Looks like Sirius was something of a pack rat, doesn’t it?” Harry asked, to the surprise of
both of his friends. Dropping his trunk at the foot of the king sized four poster bed, Harry looked
around at the clutter-filled room appraisingly.

“It’ll probably take a few days, but this room should clean up nicely,” he said. He turned
towards Hermione and Ron and said, “So, you two hungry?”

Needless to say, the couple was a bit nonplussed. “Er…Harry…” Ron began, “Don’t we need to move
your things downstairs to our room?”

Harry shrugged as he passed his friends on the stair well, “Actually, Ron, I was thinking that I
should stay in Sirius’ room while I’m here. You know, let you have the room downstairs all to
yourself this summer.”

Though Hermione thought this to be a bit peculiar, especially in that Harry wasn’t looking at
either of them while he said this, Ron’s face brightened immeasurably at the announcement. It
wasn’t until the three got to the ground floor that Hermione realized why Ron was so happy and
Harry looked a tad bit uncomfortable: he thought that his friend would *need* privacy during
their stay.

A slight blush appeared on Hermione’s cheeks, and to Harry it appeared that she was a bit
excited about the prospect of staying in a house where her boyfriend had a room all to himself.
Holding back his sigh, Harry pushed his way into the kitchen.

Though she was blushing, Hermione wasn’t excited by the fact that her boyfriend had a place
where they could spend time alone, unsupervised. In fact, she was a tad miffed at the smile that
had appeared on Ron’s face as soon as he’d heard that he’d have the room to himself.

*Of all the nerve,* Hermione thought as she followed her two friends into the kitchen, *I
can’t believe that Ron – and Harry – thinks that I’m that kind of girl! Honestly, those
two…*

As she nodded a greeting to Kingsley Shacklebolt, Hermione pondered on whom she was more
disturbed with – Ron, for thinking that she might want to spend the night with him after dating for
only a few days, or Harry, for thinking that she wanted to do something like that with Ron.

*Logically,* Hermione told herself as she sat down to get some lunch, *I should be most
upset with Ron for thinking such things about me – his girlfriend. But, then why am I so scared
that Harry thinks that I want to do… that, with Ron?*

Lunch was a rather tense affair, in that Lupin and Tonks were both quiet, silently berating
themselves over letting Harry’s little escapade slip to the other kids when Dumbledore had strictly
told them not to say anything to either Ron or Hermione. As for the kids, Ron was devising plans to
utilize his now private room later that night (all of them encompassing Hermione in varying states
of undress) while Hermione was fuming over Harry keeping things from her and Harry silently
tortured himself by observing his best friend and the young woman that he loved more than anything
in the world sitting much closer than people who were ‘just friends’ do.

*I just hope he makes her happy,* Harry thought as he suddenly lost his appetite when he
saw Ron smile at Hermione, his eyes naked with wanting. Harry excused himself before his heart was
completely broken by Hermione’s similar response.

Had Harry stayed, he would have seen something very different from what he expected. Hermione
returned Ron’s lustful gaze with a menacing glare, as if to say, *How dare you?*

Hermione excused herself as well, leaving Ron sitting at the table, stuffing himself to avoid
thinking about his girlfriend’s outright rejection at a prospective late-night interlude.

Walking upstairs, Hermione searched for Harry throughout the first and second landings, but she
couldn’t find him. Deciding that he probably went up to Sirius’ – no, his room – she climbed the
stairs to the third landing and approached the closed door. She knocked hesitantly, unsure as to
why her breathing was so ragged, but there was no answer. She thought that he wasn’t in the room
until she heard sounds of movement within.

*Harry would be okay with me coming in,* she told herself, *I do it all the time at
Hogwarts.*

Hermione opened the door and let out a startled gasp at what she was met with. Harry was doing
some kind of exercise – from the looks of it, he was practicing some form of martial arts – without
a shirt or shoes and socks on. To say that Hermione blushed upon seeing Harry in such a state of
undress would be a drastic understatement. Of course, she had seen her best friend in his pajamas
before, and sometimes without a shirt, but things had definitely changed since the last time that
had happened.

Gone was the scrawny little tousle-haired boy that she’d known, and in his place was a
*very* well developed young man. His muscles were now well defined, and coated in a fine sheen
of sweat from his workout. His eyes, which were no longer covered by the round spectacles that she
was used to, widened in shock upon seeing her burst into his room. His hair was longer than she
remembered, and plastered to his face and neck with sweat.

Apparently, he had been quite busy in the fifteen minutes that he’d been gone from the table.
There was a pregnant pause between the two, while both were trying to figure out why they were so
embarrassed by the situation.

Shaking his head quickly to keep any and all thoughts from popping up as a result of being
shirtless around Hermione, Harry reached over towards his discarded clothing and began slipping
them on, being careful to keep his back from her sight. If she saw what was there, it would
definitely raise some questions that he didn’t feel like answering.

“Do you need something, ‘Mione?”

“Um…” Hermione began, blushing furiously and unable to tear her eyes away from Harry’s torso.
Finally, when he’d buttoned up his shirt and was putting on his socks did she snap out of her daze,
“I was wanting to know why you didn’t tell me about the attack when it happened.”

“Well, Hermione,” Harry frowned, not seeing why this should really matter, “You weren’t exactly
there, now were you? I figured that since I’d see you in a few days, I could tell you and Ron then.
Which, I did, if you’ll recall.”

“And you didn’t think that I’d – we’d – be worried about you? As soon as you knew that someone
was going to try to attack you, you should have written us!”

“Hermione,” Harry began, not exactly sure why she was getting so upset, “Tonks and Shacklebolt
were there afterwards. I thought that one of them would have told you guys everything.”

Hermione mumbled something in response, and all he heard was his name. “Pardon?” Harry said, “I
didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said,” Hermione said, looking at him with sad eyes, “That you could have been hurt,
Harry.”

“’Mione,” Harry began, a bit exasperated at her reaction to all of this and her taunting
presence, when he knew full well that she was so close and yet so far away, “I’m number one on
Voldemort’s ‘To Kill’ list. I’ve been in danger since the day I was born. Honestly, do you really
think that just because they’re making open attacks that I’m in any more danger? They’ll always be
trying to kill me, you should know that by now!”

Hermione was on the verge of tears when she heard Harry saying these things. It was true that
she’d always known these things, but they were always in the abstract. Voldemort may have been
back, but he was staying away because they were under Dumbledore’s protection. Harry was always
safe at Hogwarts, with her, where she could keep an eye on him. Learning that an attempt had been
made on his life, and that Harry treated it as something of little importance, almost broke
Hermione’s heart.

“Harry,” she said quietly, looking down at her shoes since she didn’t want to think about what
could happen to this wonderful boy – *man* – in front of her, “They’ll have to come through us
to get to you.”

She’d meant it as a declaration of her commitment to him, that no matter what she would never
leave his side. Unfortunately, that wasn’t how Harry heard it. To him, it seemed as if she were
making an accusation, or at least a statement of what would happen before Voldemort got to him –
the Dark Lord was going to come after his friends, and Hermione was worried about what could to
happen to her or Ron because they were targets just for being around him.

Harry was aghast at this, for even though he’d had the same fears since after the Tri-Wizard
Tournament, he’d never expected Hermione to bring it up. He’d always expected her to stick by him,
no matter what. Perhaps, in the back of his mind, he’d hoped that she held just a glimmer of the
love for him that he held for her.

*But she’s more worried about what could happen to Ron than me. I can’t blame her, really.
He* is *her boyfriend, after all.*

However, all of the rationality in the world couldn’t overcome the hurt he was feeling just
then. He knew she’d already made her choice between him and Ron, but he didn’t think that that
choice was so extensive.

*If she’s that worried about what could happen to them, she probably came up here to tell me
that it would be best to stay away…*

“Don’t worry Hermione,” Harry said as emotionless as possible, which caused Hermione to look up
at his eyes, “I’ll make sure that neither you two, nor anyone else, will be hurt because of my
presence. I understand why you don’t want me around anymore…”

Hermione’s eyes widened at his last statement, and her mind frantically searched for a reason as
to why he would ever think such a horrible thing. Of course she didn’t want him to leave! He had to
stay, so that she could help him. So that he could keep them all safe.

As she was about to ask Harry why he thought she didn’t want him around her anymore when a voice
from the doorway said, “Excuse me, Ms. Granger, but I need a few minutes alone with Harry.”

Startled, the two turned to find Dumbledore standing in the doorway, looking somber. Harry
backed away from Hermione and turned to look out the window, watching the birds fly by. Distressed,
but not knowing how to remedy this disaster, Hermione’s eyes fell to the floor as she left the
room. She went downstairs to the room that she would be sharing with Ginny and closed the door.
Thinking about the look in Harry’s eyes as he’d said that he knew she didn’t want to be near him
anymore, she fell to her bed and began to silently cry.

“Hello Harry,” Dumbledore began before he was cut off.

“What do you want?” Harry growled. Dumbledore might have explained why he’d kept things from
Harry the year before, but that didn’t mean that Harry was ready to forgive him.

“I wish to speak to you about the upcoming year,” Dumbledore said gravely, “And I would like to
speak with you about what happened a few days ago.”

“You mean how I caught Lestrange and the others.” Harry said flatly.

“Yes. I would like to debrief you, as well as discuss your continued lessons in Occlumency with
–“

“I’ll tell you what you want to know, but as for continued lessons in Occlumency, that won’t be
necessary.” Harry replied as he turned away from the headmaster and began putting his clothes
away

Dumbledore sighed, “Yes, Harry, it is very necessary for you to continue studying Occlumency
until you’ve mastered it. If you do not, Voldemort could once again use his connection to you to
his advantage.”

Harry stiffened at the headmaster’s words, but then he relaxed and turned around to look the man
in the eyes, “No headmaster, you don’t understand. I won’t need any further instruction in
Occlumency because I’ve *already* mastered it. Voldemort will not be able to manipulate me
like that again.

“As a matter of fact,” Harry continued as he stepped past the man he’d once considered as a
grandfather and closed the door, “I’m not entirely sure that I’ll be coming back to Hogwarts this
year – or ever again.”

For the first time in his life, Dumbledore was at a loss for words as he met the
soon-to-be-sixteen year old’s eyes and saw an unfamiliar twinkle there. It was a twinkle that he
knew well, even though he’d never seen it in person, unless one counted looking into a mirror.

*When did Harry pick up that little trick?*

“What do you mean Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“Professor,” Harry sighed and moved to the bed, where he sat down, “You and I both know that if
I go back to Hogwarts that nearly 800 students will be in danger, not to mention the staff. It
would be best for everyone if I didn’t come back.”

Dumbledore was aghast. Truthfully, he’d guessed that Harry might try to distance himself from
his friends in a vain effort to protect them from Voldemort. “Harry, surely you realize that even
if you’re not there, your friends are going to be in danger. We all will be as long as Tom is still
out there.”

“Voldemort won’t be concentrating on Hogwarts if he knows that I’m not there. He’ll come after
me first, just to show the wizarding world that there is no hope. If he thinks he has a chance of
putting my remains up on display for our entire world to see, he’ll go for it and we both know
it.

“Besides Professor,” Harry snorted, “I’ve grown up a bit since you last saw me. It’ll take a lot
of work, but I can deal with Voldemort. As soon as he’s dealt with, I’ll come back. I have some
prank ideas to pull that will outshine anything done by the Marauders and the Weasley twins
combined.”

Dumbledore quickly racked his brains, trying to find some way to convince his favorite pupil –
ever – that he should come back to the safety of Hogwarts. It wasn’t until the protective
grandfatherly (even though they weren’t related by blood, that’s how he felt about the boy)
instincts quieted down for a bit that rationality kicked back in.

“Harry, you’re not even sixteen yet, you can’t leave school even if you wanted to.”

To say that Dumbledore was surprised when Harry not only rolled his eyes but actually
*laughed* would be an understatement worthy of the *Guinness Book of World Records*. It
was a few moments before Harry actually calmed down enough to see the look of absolute worry etched
on Dumbledore’s face.

“Professor,” he began, before deciding that this required a more personal touch, “Albus, you and
I both know that after the OWLs a student can leave Hogwarts. Listen, I can’t tell you why I’m
leaving. All I can tell you right now is that there is nothing more I can learn at Hogwarts that
would help me in my confrontation with Voldemort. I need to stop him now before a full fledged war
starts.”

Now Dumbledore was grasping at straws, “Harry, if you truly feel that there is nothing more for
you to learn at Hogwarts, why don’t you become my apprentice? There are a lot of things I could
teach you that you wouldn’t learn anywhere else.”

“No Albus,” Harry sighed again, “That won’t be necessary. There is nothing that you could teach
me that I wouldn’t already know.”

A tiny part of Dumbledore was insulted by that, but it was overshadowed by the all-consuming
panic flushing through his system at the thought of Harry – *his Harry* – out there all alone
with a psychotic Dark Wizard after him. In a final act of desperation, Dumbledore did the only
thing he could think of to convince Harry that he was wrong: he tried Legilimency.

*I’m sorry Harry, but this is the only way to show you how unprepared you are…*

If Dumbledore only knew.

Before Dumbledore even finished the incantation to enter the boy’s mind, Harry had already
prepared himself for the intrusion. When there should have been random, happy memories floating to
the surface of Harry’s consciousness (Dumbledore was not as vindictive as Snape was by any means),
there was nothing.

Instead, Harry’s eyes only shimmered with power, and Dumbledore found himself caught in the
boy’s emerald gaze. Before he could do anything, Dumbledore felt a familiar tugging sensation
behind his navel and a swirl of colors flashed before his eyes.

*How is this possible?*

With a loud *thump!* Dumbledore landed in what appeared to be a large tomb or dungeon. He
was lying in a circle of light, no more than seven feet in diameter. Outside of the small space of
light everything was blurred and unrecognizable. Slowly, the aged headmaster got to his feet and
tried to puzzle out what had happened.

“**That wasn’t very nice, Albus.**”

Dumbledore whirled around, trying to find the source of the deep, resonating voice that echoed
in the darkness beyond.

“Harry?”

“**Don’t worry Albus. I know why you tried to do what you did, and I appreciate the fact that
you love me like your own flesh and blood. Regardless, don’t try it again.**”

“Harry,” Dumbledore said, quite proud that he was able to suppress any quavering in his voice,
“How are you doing this? Severus said –”

“**Severus!**” Harry’s voice cut in before Dumbledore could continue, “**Professor Snape
didn’t try to teach me Occlumency, he tried to dig up dirt on me so he could hurt me later.**
**As for how I’m doing this, I told you before – I know everything I need to know, and there is
nothing more I can learn from any of you.**”

Dumbledore was frightened; both by the fact that he couldn’t perform any magic and that he had
lost all control of this situation. Also, he was terrified of the thought of letting Harry walk out
into danger without any help whatsoever.

“**I can understand your fear, Albus,**” Harry said as he revealed himself to Dumbledore,
“**But you don’t need to worry about me. As you can see, I am more than capable of taking care of
myself.**”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened as he took in Harry’s appearance. The boy had obviously grown since
the last term ended, and he was dressed strangely. He had on what looked to be a body suit made
from a red velvet-like material, as well as a golden tunic over that. He looked like a warrior
ready to do battle.

“Harry, what is going on?”

Harry sighed and looked away before answering, “**I can’t tell you anything yet, Albus. Just
know that I’m more than ready to deal with anything that Voldemort can throw at me. With a few more
days, I should be able to come up with something to take care of him as well.**

“**However,**” he said, turning back to an awestruck Dumbledore, “**Soon, I’ll be able to
tell you everything. After I have defeated Voldemort, we’ll sit down and discuss what’s happened to
me. Until then, I still need to practice some things…on my own.**”

With that, the surrounding darkness faded away to reveal a labyrinth that defied the laws of
physics. Not only was it gargantuan, but there were staircases that ran along the walls and
ceilings, as if the floor had switched with those places. Dumbledore’s first impression of it being
a tomb had some merit, as the floor, ceiling and walls were covered with some kind of arcane runes
the likes of which he’d never seen before. It was then that Dumbledore noticed hundreds upon
hundreds of wrought iron doors along the walls, as well as faint shadows in the far off distance
that were moving.

*Some kind of creatures lurking about?*

Before he got the chance to further explore this fascinating place that Harry had brought him
too, Dumbledore felt that familiar tug behind his navel and the plethora of colors and light as he
traveled back to chair that he’d been sitting in when speaking to Harry.

He looked up to see Harry standing before him, once again dressed as he was when Dumbledore came
into the room. He shook his head, as if to clear it of some strange thought when Harry began to
speak.

“As you saw, anyone who tries to enter my mind will have a hell of a time with my mental
defenses. Personally, I don’t think Voldemort will make it past the first few booby-trapped rooms
before he decides to stop trying.

“So,” he said, causing Dumbledore to meet his gaze, “Are we in agreement that I won’t need to
come back to Hogwarts?”

Dumbledore nodded mutely, still reeling from his botched attempt to intrude into Harry’s mind.
Never in his life had he seen mental defenses that strong. When it came to Legilimency, Dumbledore
was unrivaled save by Voldemort, and Harry had batted down his attempts as if they were
nothing.

*Something strange is going on here, but I won’t be able to find out anything until Harry
decides to tell me.*

Dumbledore only listened half-heartedly while Harry gave him a blow by blow account of what
transpired the day he was attacked by the Death Eaters (minus his interaction with Alfirin, of
course), though he did interrupt a few times to ask questions about what the Death Eaters said at
the time and if Harry had felt any kind of warning from his scar. After Harry had finished with his
story, Dumbledore stood.

“Actually, Harry, there were two other things I wanted to tell you,” he said, placing a
comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder, “The first being that Sirius’ will is to be read on
your birthday. I think I should tell you that aside from a few items and some money he left to
Remus, Tonks and the Weasleys, you’re getting just about everything. Would you be willing to allow
us to continue using Grimmauld Place as the Order’s Headquarters?”

“Of course, Professor,” Harry said, his eyes downcast, “It would be an honor for the Order to
use this place as Headquarters. At least it’ll be put to some good use. What else did you wish to
speak with me about?”

“Actually,” Dumbledore said as the familiar twinkle returned to eyes somewhat, “the second thing
I have to tell you concerns you and your friends.” At Harry’s confused look, Dumbledore grinned,
“Your OWL results. I brought them with me. I imagine Ms. Granger should be going spare over them,
don’t you?”

Harry smiled a bittersweet smile and looked at the door, “Yes, sir, I’m sure she is, even though
she probably got O’s on everything.” He got up and followed Dumbledore downstairs to the kitchen,
where Ron, Remus and Tonks were still sitting at the table. It looked as though Ron had finally
finished eating moments before they had walked in.

“Oh, Harry dear, how wonderful it is to see you!”

Harry spun around and came face to face with Arthur and Molly Weasley, the latter of which
quickly enveloped him in a rib-crushing hug. Luckily, Mr. Weasley was there to pull her off him
before he passed out, after which the two shook hands. Once Mr. Weasley stepped aside, Ginny, Fred
and George came into view. Ginny began to run up to Harry but stopped a few steps away, her gaze
raking up and down his body and her mouth dropped open.

“H-Harry?”

“Bloody Hell, mate! Whatever you’ve been up to let us in on it!” George exclaimed, side-stepping
his baby sister and coming forward to shake Harry’s hand, followed closely (as always) by Fred. The
twins repeated Ginny’s action, though without the flash of wanting in their eyes that had been in
their sister’s.

Once everyone had settled down and resumed their seats at the table, Dumbledore cleared his
throat and reached inside of his robes. Harry and Ron craned forward to see the three envelopes he
laid on the table. They could clearly see their names printed on the front, as well as one for
Hermione.

Their OWL results.

*Hermione’s going to be so excited,* Harry thought. With a pang, he wondered if Ron would
give her a celebratory kiss to congratulate her on her good scores.

Tonks got up from the table and left the room, saying over her shoulder, “I’ll go get Hermione –
she’ll definitely want to see these.”

Harry put off opening his, because he knew that Hermione would want to open them together. Ron,
however, immediately tore his open to see how he’d done. Harry thought that was odd, seeing as how
Ron was usually hesitant about anything having to do with school. Then he noticed Mrs. Weasley all
but glowering at her youngest son, and Ron’s uncharacteristic haste was no longer a mystery.

The door opened and a subdued Hermione came in followed by a confused Tonks. Hermione looked at
Harry for a second then averted her eyes to the letter in Ron’s hands. As soon as she realized what
it was that Ron was reading, her face brightened just a little bit and she snatched up her OWL
results.

Seeing that Hermione was about to open hers, Harry picked up his results as well and tore open
the envelope, hoping against all odds that his grades would at least help back up his claims that
he didn’t need to come back to Hogwarts for his remaining two years. He looked over his
results.

They did. By a considerable degree. Judging by the ecstatic look on Hermione’s face, she’d done
as expected – which meant phenomenal. Ron, on the other hand, looked a bit pale as he perused his
grades.

“Well, Ron, how did you do?” Mrs. Weasley asked imperiously. Ron looked at her and gulped.

“I g-got 7 OWLs m-mum.” Ron replied. Mrs. Weasley looked at him for a few seconds and then
rushed around the table and gathered him in a typical Weasley bone-crushing hug.

“I am so proud of you, Ronniekins!” she exclaimed while Ron went red in the face (either from
being called ‘Ronniekins’ in front of everyone, including Dumbledore and his girlfriend, or from
lack of oxygen) while Fred and George both made retching sounds in the background. Harry quickly
glanced at his letter, looking straight at the total number of OWLs he’d received. The letter
read:

*Dear Mr. Potter,*

*Below are your results from the Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations. The grading system is
thus – for every exam containing two parts, both Theory and Practical, the grades were averaged to
give a single grade for the entire test. ‘Outstanding’ (O) is worth two OWLs, while ‘Exceeds
Expectations’ (E) and ‘Average’ (A) give a total of one OWL. Grades of ‘Poor’ (P), ‘Dreadful’ (D)
and ‘Terrible’ (T) render scores of zero OWLs. Your grades are as follows:*

*Astronomy: A/A – Final grade: A*

*Care of Magical Creatures: O/O – Final grade: O*

*Charms: E/E – Final grade: E*

*Defense Against the Dark Arts: O/O+ – Final grade: O+**

*Divination: Ø/P – Final grade: P*

*Herbology: A/E – Final grade: E*

*History of Magic: Ø/D – Final grade: D*

*Potions: O/O – Final grade: O*

*Transfiguration: E/O – Final grade: O*

*Total Number of OWLs: 11*

**Bonus points given for ability to produce highly advanced Patronus Charm. Highest recorded
DADA OWL exam score in history.*

*Congratulations, Mr. Potter, on a job well done.*

*Wizarding Examination Board*

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by Hermione’s excited squeal as she waved her letter around
frantically, “15 OWLs! I’ve gotten 15 OWLs!”

“Well then,” Harry said, smiling at her, “I guess we know who’s going to be Head Girl next year,
don’t we?”

“Yeah, congratulations Herms!” Ron chirped as soon as his mother let him go. He immediately
rushed over to her and gave her a hug and was about to kiss her when she turned her head towards
Harry, making him kiss her on the cheek instead.

“How many did you get, Harry?” she asked pensively, hoping he’d gotten over his crazy notion
that she didn’t want him around anymore.

“I got 11 OWLs.” Harry said. Remus and Mrs. Weasley beamed at him, while Hermione and Ron looked
at him, shock evident on their faces.

“Well,” Dumbledore said to everyone, “This obviously calls for a celebration!” With that, he
clapped his hands and party decorations popped into existence around the room. Mrs. Weasley went to
the stove to make a cake for the party. Remus quickly jumped up to keep Tonks from ‘helping’ while
the twins, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry all sat down at the table, swapping their letters so that
each could see how the others did.

A few hours passed as everyone celebrated the Trio’s good performance on their tests. Throughout
that time, Harry managed to avoid talking to anyone about his plans for the following school year.
He wanted to avoid a confrontation with Mrs. Weasley and Remus for as long as possible, which meant
steering clear of his intent to not return to Hogwarts for his sixth year, at least not until
Voldemort was vanquished. It was all going so well, until Hermione cautiously approached him and
began commenting on his OWL results.

“You know, Harry,” she said quietly, trying to think of a way to ease into the area of why he
thought she wanted him gone, “With those results, you can take all the classes you need to enter
the Auror program. You still have a shot at becoming an Auror after graduating.”

“Not to mention,” Mrs. Weasley cut in, surprising both Hermione and Harry, “that with 11 OWLs,
Harry here has a decent chance at becoming Head Boy next year. You’d better keep on your toes,
Ron,” she said to her youngest son, who was over in a corner with the twins when he looked up after
hearing his name, “or Harry will beat you to the Head Boy position.”

Harry looked over at Ron to see his face clouded with a myriad of unidentifiable emotions at
hearing this, and decided that he couldn’t avoid it any longer. Casting an imploring look in
Dumbledore’s direction, Harry calmly said, “Actually, I won’t be competing with Ron for the spot of
Head Boy this year, or taking Auror prep classes – at least, not until Voldemort is taken care
of.”

A collective gasp ran through the room, as well as every single person save Harry and Dumbledore
shuddering at that name. As he was about to begin explaining, Harry felt the comforting hand of
Dumbledore resting on his shoulder, lending him strength.

“What do you mean, Harry?” Molly asked quietly, “Why won’t you be doing those things until H-He
is gone?”

Looking into Hermione’s mocha eyes, Harry answered all of their questions, spoken and otherwise,
by saying, “I have decided that I will not return to Hogwarts this September. Instead, I will take
the fight to Voldemort and end this before it becomes a full fledged war.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide at this statement, and then even wider still as realization dawned on
her as to one of the, if not the, causes of his not returning to Hogwarts: *He thinks that we’ll
all be in danger if he’s there with us!*

*He thinks I – we – don’t want him there. Oh no…*

Molly and Remus were both flabbergasted, but before they could object, Harry cut in, “I know
that you have a problem with this. You think it’s too dangerous and that I’m still a child and
therefore shouldn’t take any part of this fight, at least for now. However, Professor Dumbledore
and I have discussed it, and he agrees with my decision to not return to Hogwarts until I have
defeated Voldemort.”

Harry could see that Mrs. Weasley was beginning to warm up to one of her trademark yelling
sessions, so he turned to Dumbledore and whispered quietly in his ear, “If they keep asking
questions, just tell them about the prophecy and that you know that I’m ready.” Harry then turned
away and headed for the door before Dumbledore stopped him.

“Harry, where are you going?”

“Professor,” he said, turning around to look at Dumbledore, that familiar twinkle back in his
eyes, “It has been a long and tiring day, and I want to go to bed. Goodnight all.”

With that, Harry walked out of the room and started up the stairs. Back in the kitchen, all eyes
turned towards Dumbledore, except for Hermione, who was already on her way out of the kitchen,
following Harry up the stairs.

*Now, why did he leave so abruptly after dropping that bombshell,* Dumbledore thought to
himself as he looked around, meeting the angry and confused stares of the two elder Weasleys, Remus
Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. All four of which looked ready to tear him a new…orifice…for allowing
Harry to choose to not return to Hogwarts. It wasn’t until he noticed their angry glares that
Dumbledore remembered that Harry had left it up to him to explain everything to these people who
looked ready to murder for the slightest provocation.

*Ah,* Dumbledore thought admiringly, *that’s why.*

The four adults in the room slowly walked towards him, closing him in.

*Uh oh…*

Hermione caught up with Harry on the second landing outside of her room. She reached out and
touched his shoulder, causing him to stiffen and turn towards her.

“Harry,” she began, “Why don’t you want to come back to Hogwarts?”

He sighed, clearly vexed at how to answer her. One moment it’s *You need to stay away for me
and my love’s sake* and the next it was *What are you doing? Don’t leave!*

“Like I told you and Professor Dumbledore, Hermione, Voldemort is going to keep coming after me.
It makes more sense if I’m the only one in the line of fire, instead of nearly a thousand other
people that he could kill.”

“But,” she said, desperately trying to think of something that would make him want to come back
with her to Hogwarts, “Can’t you think of any reasons to come back? I mean, you still have a lot to
learn, classes to take for Auror prep.”

Harry looked at her sadly before he answered, “There is nothing more I can learn at Hogwarts
that would help me against Voldemort. Besides, other than classes, I get the feeling that it would
be a bad idea for me to be around.” The pain in his eyes was almost too much for Hermione to
bear.

“Harry–” she began but was cut off by the sounds of people coming up the stairs. It was Ginny,
Ron and the twins, all grumbling about not being allowed into the meetings for the adults. Hermione
broke away from Harry as he sadly looked at her and started back up the stairs.

“Goodnight, Mione.”

Hermione turned around and fled into her room and shut the door before she began to cry for the
second time that day. At least before, she’d had the thought of being with Harry at school, so that
they could work things out and she could figure out why she felt so strange when he was about, why
it was so different than with Ron.

Now, it appeared that she only had until the end of the summer to puzzled everything out.

Harry sighed as he entered the bedroom at the top of the third landing and closed the door.

“Ah, young love. Is anything ever as sweet as that?”

Harry spun around to find a strange man sitting in a chair by the window, silhouetted by the
night sky. He was wearing obsidian robes, and he was sitting with his elbows on the arm rests of
the chair, his fingers steepled in front of his face. Though he could see no eyes, Harry got the
impression this stranger was looking directly at him.

The man slowly stood up, his face slowly entering the light. Harry kept his distance, seeing as
how this person found a way in though the Fidelius Charm placed on the house, so this guy had to be
dangerous. As soon as his face was hit with the light, Harry noticed that his face had a toned,
aristocratic shape to it, which was nicely balanced with a striking goatee and perfectly shaped
nose. In fact, the only thing that ruined his looks was his eyes.

His eyes were pitch black, as black as the man’s robes. Not just the irises of the eyes, but the
entire eye, as if something were coloring his entire eye black.

“Who are you? How did you get here?” Harry demanded.

“I got in because I wanted to get in. As for my name…well…you can call me Iaur Dúath.”

That name struck a bell with Harry. That was the name of the man responsible for the tests that
Harry would have to take to prove that he was worthy of the Aewonaur Coll.

Iaur closed the gap between the two of them and leaned forward, “The tests shall now begin. You,
Harry Potter,” he pointed a long digit at Harry, “Will now run the Gauntlet.”



5. The First Round of Tasks: Hagrid and McGonagall
--------------------------------------------------

Hey True Believers! (Sorry, I just wanted to pretend that I was Stan Lee for a moment, it won’t
happen again… for a while) Sorry about the LONG delay in getting this chapter out. I promise that I
won’t take nearly as long to get the sixth one out. This one is by far the longest I’ve ever
written, to make up for not posting for the last SEVEN MONTHS or so. I have been thinking about
letting Harry hook up with some other female characters, but nothing serious, just something to
make Hermione a little jealous. I’m also taking a poll: who wants to see Dúath get the crap beat
out of him? Or should I just settle for Harry humiliating all of Voldemort’s Death Eaters and the
‘big man’ himself? Ah well, on with the story – this chapter is actually two tasks – Hagrid’s and
McGonagall’s. The next one will probably be Remus and Tonks

**Chapter 5: The First Round of Tests: Hagrid and McGonagall**

“Alright,” Harry said calmly, “What will I have to do?”

Dúath didn’t answer him right away. Instead, he looked the young man up and down, and then
circled around, examining Harry. When he was once again standing in front of Harry, he was
livid.

“You’re a wizard!”

“Yes,” Harry said, puzzled, “So what?”

Dúath clenched his teeth and threw his head back, holding in a scream of rage with all of his
might. “So much for the legendary honor of Alfirin Istagûl! The man can’t even keep a single
promise.”

Befuddled, Harry cocked his head to one side, trying to figure out what his being a wizard had
to do with anything that Alfirin did wrong.

Dúath hissed and the shadows in the corner of the room became deeper. Then, as if they were
living, they creeped up the walls and ceiling, until nothing was visible but him and Harry. Harry
looked around, slightly puzzled at the need for this ancient privacy spell, when Dúath bared his
teeth and shouted out at the top of his lungs, “ISTAGÛL! COME HERE **NOW**!”

Harry covered his ears at Dúath’s booming voice, and when he looked up, a doorway of light had
appeared in the middle of the room. Through it stepped Alfirin, a welcome sight next to the
strangeness of Harry’s ‘examiner.’

“Yes, Iaur, how may I help you?” Alfirin asked cordially.

Dúath was seething. “How may you help me *indeed*, you traitorous swine! You passed the
*Aewonaur Coll* onto a *wizard*, Istagûl! Such an act was expressly forbidden when the
Ancients gave you the Mantle.”

“Iaur,” Alfirin said, his expression darkening significantly, “My giving the Mantle to a wizard
or witch was forbidden by *you*, in an agreement we reached after the first recipient almost
bested your tests. I only agreed to that condition so that *you* would only put the wielder of
the Mantle in danger and no one else.”

“Obviously,” Dúath spat, “You are not concerned about me putting the wielder’s family in harm’s
way this time!”

“On the contrary, Iaur,” Alfirin said quietly, but with a hint of amusement, “You cannot bring
his family into this because he is not a wizard. Not yet, anyway.”

Dúath’s ire increased as he looked between a silent, awed Harry and a smug Alfirin. “You’re
going to try to hamstring me with *semantics*! You and I know that this boy was more powerful
than all but a scant few wizards anyway, regardless of his level of training. You were not supposed
to give the Mantle to any magic user!”

“Excuse me,” Harry said quietly, surprising both of the men – things – whatever they were – into
silence, “Why does it matter if he gives the Mantle to a magic user or not? I mean, would a muggle
not get the knowledge regarding magic, or what?”

“No, a non-magic user would still receive knowledge pertaining to magic, but would be unable to
utilize any of it. There are significant differences between Wizarding-kind and Muggles.” Alfirin
explained.

“Indeed,” Dúath said scathingly, “Since a wizard will be able to perform *any* kind of
magic, thereby being far more powerful than a normal human with the Mantle’s knowledge. At least
the former wielders had to work hard to defeat entire armies – a wizard with this knowledge would
be unstoppable! You know this is unfair Istagûl!”

“Come now Iaur,” Alfirin said placatingly, “It won’t be that bad and you know it. Besides, I am
well within the confines of the parameters we established, since Mr. Potter is technically not a
wizard.”

Dúath threw back his head and growled in anger before he sighed and looked at Harry. Looking him
up and down, Dúath slowly smiled, sending chills down Harry’s spine.

“Fine, Istagûl, if that’s how you want to play it,” Dúath said, looking between the two with a
feral gleam in his eyes, “But I can play the semantics game too, old friend.

“Mr. Potter,” Dúath said, looking into Harry’s eyes, “Our dear friend Alfirin is correct in that
you are not yet a wizard, so I cannot place your family in harm’s way. However, you are a magic
user, thereby giving you a decided advantage over the more, shall we say, *traditional*
candidates for the *Aewonaur Coll*.”

At this, Harry became worried. He didn’t know this Iaur Dúath very well, but he could infer from
his tone and mannerisms that he wasn’t going to let this matter go so easily.

“Therefore,” Dúath continued with a decidedly feral smile, “I think I’ll use your friends
instead.”

“WHAT?” Harry shouted, his eyes growing as wide as saucers. *He can’t do that, can he?*

Dúath turned away from the aghast Harry and Alfirin, and waved his hand, causing a viewing
portal to form in front of him. Within it the three had a clear view of the other occupants of the
house. In the kitchen downstairs stood Dumbledore surrounded by Tonks, Lupin and the Weasley
elders, all very upset. Then the picture flashed to one of Ginny and Hermione talking quietly in
their room, though only Ginny’s face was visible. Again the scene flashed to Ron’s room, in which
Ron and the twins were hunched together in a deep discussion. The picture changed one last time to
show three more people entering the house – Professors McGonagall and Snape, who looked rather
haggard, and Hagrid, who had to almost bend parallel to the floor to make it through the front
door.

“Thirteen people that you must save, Mr. Potter. If you want them to survive this, you’d better
do exactly as I say.” Dúath said as he turned back to Harry and Alfirin. Then, he snapped his
fingers and Harry disappeared from the room. At the same time, collars appeared around the necks of
everyone else in the house, to their utter bewilderment.

The collars were what appeared to be wrought iron, with three carat rubies set every three
inches around the outside of them. The rubies appeared to be glowing with some unseen power. Even
Dumbledore was puzzled as to their purpose and where they came from.

Alfirin and Iaur were still up in Harry’s bedroom, though the privacy spell that Iaur had put up
was now gone. Dúath was on his way to the door when Alfirin stopped him.

“What are you up to, Iaur?”

Dúath stopped and turned back to his long time rival and one-time friend, “Making sure that this
will be interesting. If you would care to watch what will happen to Mr. Potter, I suggest you go
downstairs to the kitchen. I will join you momentarily, after I give him instructions for his first
task.”

Dúath opened the door for Alfirin then *popped!* out of the room. Alfirin shook his head in
resignation and made his way downstairs.

* * *

Harry appeared in the middle of the wilderness, the sun just beginning its decent as the
afternoon began. The cries of wild animals sounded in the distance, causing Harry to spin around in
a futile attempt to see what was out there. An almost indiscernible *pop!* caught his
attention and he turned to find Dúath standing behind him.

“Welcome to America, Mr. Potter. You are currently two miles outside of Salem, Massachusetts, in
the New England area of the northern states. The Salem Institute of Witchcraft is about to be
attacked by a few Griffins, and you must stop them from hurting anyone.

“The school is that way,” Dúath said, pointing to the east, where a large manor was easily
visible through a hole in the canopy, “And if you are able to do this, your friend Hagrid will be
saved. After him, you will have to save McGonagall, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves – you
still have to stop those Griffins from killing the students and teachers at Salem first. When
you’re done, I’ll give you your instructions for your next task.”

*Pop!*

He was gone. Harry sighed in frustration and looked off towards the American school of magic. He
quickly transformed into an owl and took flight, hoping to get this over with quickly and get his
friends out of danger – especially Hermione.

* * *

Back at Grimmauld Place, as Harry was just appearing in the New England wilderness, Alfirin was
heading down the stairs towards the basement kitchen. He was going to have a lot of explaining to
do, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

As he was passing the girls’ room, the door opened and out stepped a confused Ginny and
puffy-eyed Hermione, both of whom froze upon seeing a complete stranger striding past their
door.

“You two might want to head down to the kitchen, if you want to know what’s going on.” Alfirin
said over his shoulder as he headed down the stairs. Neither said a word as they followed him down
the stairs, pausing only to share befuddled looks with Ron and the twins as they came from their
room and frowned at the stranger on the landing below them. Then he looked up.

“You know, if I were you, I would want to know what kind of dangers my friend was facing right
now. But, that’s just me,” he said, before disappearing from sight down the stairs.

“Dangers our friend…what did he mean by that…” Hermione began before her eyes grew wide and she
shouted, “HARRY!” Before anyone could stop her, she flew up the stairs and flung open the door to
Harry’s room. It was empty.

Short of breath, she hurtled back down the stairs, surprising her friends yet again as she shot
past them in the direction of the basement kitchen. They all looked at each other before hurrying
down themselves.

Hermione burst into the kitchen to find the now eight adults clustered around the table, all
concentrating on the mysterious stranger helping himself to a cup of tea.

“Who the hell are you, and *what* the hell are these *things* around our necks?” Snape
spat, pointing at the newest addition to his wardrobe.

“Severus,” Dumbledore warned in a quiet voice before turning to the too-calm intruder, “I would
like an explanation as to what is going on, if you please, Mister…”

“Istagûl. My name is Alfirin Istagûl. And don’t worry, all will be explained shortly. The only
thing you need to concern yourselves with is keeping a civil tongue in your head, because the man
who is responsible for the challenges Mr. Potter is about to face will not be as forgiving as I
am…” Alfirin said with a pointed look at a disgruntled looking Snape.

“WHAT?” Mrs. Weasley shouted after his words had sunk in fully, “WHAT IS HAPPENING TO
HARRY?”

“My dear woman, there is no need for you to shout; I can assure you that I can hear perfectly
well. As for what is happening to Mr. Potter, he is about to embark on a quest to insure not only
his survival, but all of yours as well,” the strange newcomer responded.

“What do you mean ‘yours as well?’” Hermione asked from the doorway, the Weasley children
standing behind her with the same question in their eyes.

Alfirin sat down at the table and blew on his tea while everyone else stood ramrod straight and
stared at him. It was a few moments, and a few sips, before he actually looked at any of them and
finally answered Hermione’s query, “All will be explained momentarily. Just be warned that Harry’s
examiner will test not only his mettle in battle, but also his heart and mind as well. There is
nothing any of you will be able to do that can help him.”

“Oh no!” moaned Mrs. Weasley and Hermione, though the younger girl’s exclamation was much more
subdued than the Weasley matriarch’s. Looking around, Hermione noticed that everyone else, save
Professor Snape, were in much the same mindset: *How much more will Harry have to put up
with?*

“Perfect,” Snape spat, “Our lives are in the hands of a cocky, untalented teenager. We may as
well slit our own throats right now and be done with it!”

There was a general cry of outrage, but before any of the other inhabitants of the house could
give Snape the thrashing they all wished to, another figure appeared on the opposite side of the
kitchen table from Alfirin.

“Iaur.”

“Istagûl.”

All of the wizards and witches in the room stopped at once, looking at this new addition to the
group. Angry eyes followed his every movement as Dúath got up from the table and helped himself to
a cup of tea.

“Mr.… Haggard, is it?” Dúath said over his tea cup to the half giant standing next to Alfirin,
hands clenched and eyes wide with worry and rage. The big man narrowed his eyes at the unwelcome
intruders, but contented himself with growling, “Hagrid,” after a warning glance from
Dumbledore.

“Oh, well, do forgive me, I didn’t mean to offend,” Iaur said with a half-hearted apologetic
smile on his face – everyone knew he’d gotten the larger man’s name wrong on purpose.

“But, I thought you should know that, as your being young Harry’s first true friend, you have
the honor of being the first person he has to save.”

“What are you talking about?” McGonagall growled.

Dúath drained his cup and placed it on the table beside Alfirin’s before replying, “My friends,
Mr. Potter has previously agreed to accept a gift which never should have been offered to him – the
*Aewonaur Coll*, or the Phoenix Mantle in your tongue.

“The Mantle is one of the greatest powers in all the realm, if not *the* greatest. It
consists of knowledge of all things necessary to combat evil. There is now *nothing* that Mr.
Potter cannot do if he decides he wants to. I have already observed him practicing Wing Chun and
Jujitsu, as well as self transfiguration. I believe he became a peregrine falcon at one point?”
Dúath shot a questioning look at Alfirin, who nodded.

“Potter is an Animagus? That’s amazing!” McGonagall exclaimed, a hint of pride in her voice.

Dúath laughed bitterly, “Potter is much more than an Animagus, my dear Minerva. He is a
Metamorphmagus,” he looked at a surprised Tonks, “a Potions master,” a glance at Snape, “a very
capable animal handler,” Hagrid beamed with pride, “and quite accomplished at Occlumency and
Legilimency too, as Albus found out.

“There is literally *nothing* that Mr. Potter is not able to do now, magically or
otherwise.” He paused for a few seconds to allow this to sink in, before continuing on, “However,
that is one of the reasons you are all in the dire straits you find yourselves currently in. You
see, the *Aewonaur Coll* was never supposed to fall in the hands of a wizard or witch, largely
in part of an agreement that Alfirin and I reached long ago.

“But, Alfirin decided he wanted to try to play games with me, so I am returning the favor. You
see, our agreement was that as long as he passed the Mantle on to someone who was not magical, I
would not do to the recipient’s family what I am doing to all of you now – in effect, making tasks
that Mr. Potter must pass not only to prove his worth but also to keep you alive. If he fails, the
collars around your necks will be triggered and within a few moments, explode. If he succeeds in
your appointed tasks according to my specifications, the collars will deactivate, and you will be
free from my grasp.”

“Wait a moment,” Hermione cut in curiously, “Why do you get to do this at all? I mean, what
gives you the right to do this to any of us, or to Harry?”

“That, my dear, is a very long tale, and not one I wish to tell at the moment,” Dúath said
before sitting back down at the table and picking up the cup of tea sitting in front of Alfirin. He
took a long draw from it and continued, “Though, if you are all done asking questions you aren’t
going to get answers to, you can watch along with me as Mr. Potter tries to stop a small horde of
Griffins from decimating the Salem School of Witchcraft.”

Before anyone could speak, he’d clapped his hands and the room around them shimmered and
disappeared, replaced by a forest nestling a large manor. Several of the adults and Hermione
recognized what the manor was – Salem Institute of Witchcraft. They all watched as a snowy owl much
like Hedwig floated to the ground and quickly grew into Harry Potter.

Despite what they had all been told regarding his abilities, none of his friends (or Snape) were
ready to see him transform so easily from animal to human. Though many of them had questions, they
all held them and found places to sit and watch what was going to happen to their friend.

* * *

Harry peeked around the trunk of the tree he was hiding behind and took in the Salem Institute.
All seemed quiet for now, so he didn’t think the Griffins had arrived yet. However, it wasn’t until
he had taken his first step from around the tree that he was confronted with a sight that caused
him to pause – there was a Care of Magical Creatures class not 20 meters from the edge of the
forest studying Unicorns. Then he noticed something else that caused an unwelcome realization – the
Salem Institute was an all *girl* institute.

No males were allowed admittance to the school, with the exception of an emergency (such as a
man injured nearby or a specialist doctor whose services are needed) or visits by paternal
guardians. Harry couldn’t very well just walk up and say, “Hello, I’m Harry Potter and I’m here to
protect you from some Griffins that are going to attack at some point in the indeterminate
future.”

That wouldn’t go over very well. Not very well at *all*.

Well, there were several options he had available. He could simply make himself invisible, or
make them all forget they’d seen him, or simply hide. Or, he could…No, that was preposterous! It
would be far too risky.

However, it was probable that he would need to get some information later on, and the witches
took an almost Amazonian attitude with male intruders on their grounds. So, there was nothing else
for it.

He would simply have to become a girl.

*Oh, what some people back home would give to see this… and I don’t even want to* imagine
*what Malfoy would make of it…*

With a small amount of concentration, Harry experienced his first (and hopefully *last*)
trans-gender transformation. His black hair grew out to the middle of his back and became much
softer and red, like a sunset. His eyes stayed the same, but the scar on his forehead disappeared.
His facial features changed, becoming softer and more feminine, as well as the rest of his body.
There was a strange tingling sensation as his lower regions became those of the opposite sex.

As he finished he squinted - something was missing. Then, he realized what it was: he had no
bra, and he was still wearing boxers underneath his baggy jeans.

*I need a change of clothes.*

With an eye blink, he had the necessary undergarments on, as well as black boots, suitable for
hiking in the woods and comfortable for running and fighting as well. The boots came up to his
(her? Now Harry was getting a little confused) calves. Black pants with multiple pockets down the
legs were tucked into the tops of the boots. A simple black belt and black t-shirt along with a
leather jacket completed his new ensemble.

With the exception of the clothes, Harry Potter had become the spitting image of a 21 year old
Lily Evans.

Taking his (her?) hair up into a pony tail and securing it with a tie that he Transfigured from
a leaf on a nearby tree, Harry walked purposefully towards the group of students, none of which had
noticed him yet.

*This should be interesting…*

* * *

“My God!” exclaimed McGonagall, staring wide-eyed at the visage before her.

Everyone else around the table, with the exceptions of Alfirin and Dúath, had the same
expressions on their faces. Those who’d known Lily Evans Potter personally had tears in their eyes
upon seeing her again. Harry’s transformation had been perfect. It was doubtful that even James
would have been able to tell the difference between them.

“Wow, Tonks,” Remus began, still struck breathless from seeing his long dead friend, “He made
that look so easy. How come you can’t do it like that?”

She threw him a scathing look and swatted his arm, before looking back at the woman that she’d
only seen in person once, “Is that what Harry’s mum really looked like when you went to school with
her?”

“Right down to the small indentation in her chin.” Snape said quietly, transfixed. Most of the
people at the table threw him incredulous glances, but their attentions were quickly drawn to the
twins when Fred (or was it George?) said, “Whoa, Harry’s mum was gorgeous! And, he really did get
her eyes, didn’t he – Ow!” Mrs. Weasley had slapped him upside the head.

“Mind your manners, Fred Weasley, and show some respect for the departed!”

Everyone around the table stopped speaking when they saw Harry brazenly walk up to the front
doors of the school and follow the girls in. No one there seemed to notice his presence for several
seconds. Then, one of the teachers caught sight of him and swooped over.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” she asked quietly.

Harry’s eyes darted around for a second before focusing on the woman in front of him and,
smiling, he said, “Hello, my name’s Ginerva Granger, I’m with the Department of Magical Animal
Control. I’ve received some reports that an unknown number of Class 4 creatures might be heading in
this direction, so I decided to come check it out.”

While the American professor was deciding whether or not to believe the ‘young woman’ in front
of her, the members of the order and the children were still in a daze. Ginny then turned to
Hermione.

“He used our names!”

“Yes,” Hermione said, puzzled, “He did, so what?”

“Nothing,” Ginny replied, blushing slightly, “I just thought it was neat that he thought that up
at the spur of the moment like that.” With that, she turned back to watch what Harry would do next,
along with everyone else.

* * *

Several tense minutes passed as the teacher he’d spoken too sent for the school’s Headmistress,
and Harry was beginning to fidget. All of the girls were throwing him looks, some of curiosity and
others of hostility. The hostile looks confused him a bit, considering he looked like a young
woman. Perhaps the girls here didn’t like outsiders period.

As the teacher returned with an old woman that Harry could only assume to be the Headmistress a
piercing shriek cut through the hall. He turned to see a young girl of about eleven pointing at
something out the window. Rushing forward with everyone else there, he stopped breathing for a
moment.

Filling the sky had to be dozens of Griffins, scores even. The largest Griffin in the front of
the ‘flock,’ as it were, seemed to bark orders at the other Griffins to the left and right, for
immediately afterwards about a third of the Griffins broke away to head for other areas outside of
the school while the main body continued on towards the windows of the entrance hall that Harry and
the students were standing in.

“GET DOWN TO THE DUN… BASEMENT, *NOW*!” Harry yelled at the shocked students, who didn’t
need to be told twice. Many of the students began to rush towards the doors leading further into
the manor and to the basements. The little girl who had alerted everyone to the approach of the
Griffins tripped and fell about ten feet away from the windows. Harry noticed that the teachers
were too far away to do anything, and the nearly dozen Griffins were about to come crashing through
those windows.

He quickly sprinted over and threw himself on top of the little girl as the Griffins burst
through the large bay windows, showering the entrance hall with glass. Harry made sure that he
completely covered the trembling child, and looked over as a dozen of the creatures skidded to a
stop in the middle of the entrance hall, looking around at the abandoned room.

Unfortunately, they were positioned between Harry and the girl and the exits. As he was racking
his brain trying to find a way to get out of the hall, the Griffins turned towards him and growled.
The largest there barked orders to some of the others, which quickly left the room, heading
upstairs and through side doors. This still left Harry and the terrified young American with eight
Griffins between them and the exits.

*Well,* he thought, looking behind him, *not* all *of the exits.*

Picking the girl up and hugging her to his chest, Harry whispered, “It’ll be okay, just stay
close to me until I tell you to run, alright?”

As soon as the young girl nodded her understanding, Harry jumped backwards through the now
shattered windows. They fell about six feet, but as they were passing through, Harry brought his
legs up as far as he could while holding the girl so close, and began a remarkably graceful back
flip, considering the circumstances. He landed on his feet, and immediately began to run around the
building, still holding the girl.

As they rounded the first corner, the girl gasped from his shoulder. Taking a quick look around,
Harry saw that there was a Griffin swooping down on them from behind. Timing it just right, he went
into a forward roll just as the Griffin was reaching out with its talons.

Since the creature had been expecting to meet some resistance when it struck with its claws, it
was not prepared when there was nothing there to intercept the force it was exerting except for the
hard ground. The Griffin came to a sudden stop when its back legs slammed into the grass, then went
tumbling end over end for about twenty feet before winding up on its back, dazed.

Not wasting any time, Harry had drawn his wand midway through the roll, and shot off a quiet
Stunning spell as he came out of it, hitting the still dazed Griffin in the head and rendering it
unconscious. Without stopping, he moved fluidly into motion again upon his feet touching ground
again.

*One down,* he thought grimly, *about thirty-nine to go.*

* * *

Many of those around the kitchen table at Order Headquarters began cheering when they saw how
Harry was handling the situation in the American school. The only ones not cheering were Alfirin,
Dúath, Dumbledore and Hermione, all of whom were worried, though for different reasons.

Alfirin was worried that he might have chosen wrongly, no matter how powerful young Potter had
appeared to be during his observations. The Mantle could *not* fall into Dúath’s hands.

Dúath was worried that Potter would breeze right through his challenges, and the Mantle lost to
the side of goodness forever. Potter was not bound by the same rules that he and Istagûl were,
after all.

Dumbledore knew that if Harry died, there was no one who could defeat Voldemort; and all of the
Wizarding world, and beyond perhaps, was forfeit.

Hermione… Hermione couldn’t exactly tell why she was so worried. Harry was one of her best
friends, but the coldness in the pit of her stomach and the building pressure on her chest didn’t
feel like the worry she normally felt for her friends, even when they were in mortal danger. She
hadn’t felt this way about any of the others this way when they were at the Department of
Mysteries. Only for Harry, then and now.

The four put their worries to the back of their minds – or at least they told themselves so –
and moved closer to the table as Harry continued his seemingly hopeless endeavor.

* * *

Harry came across a side door about a third of the way down the wall after the first corner. Not
breaking his stride, he pivoted on his right foot and brought his left leg out to kick behind him,
breaking open the door, through which he darted into a smaller hallway with many doors, all of them
closed.

“Which way to the basement?” he directed to his left shoulder, where the young girl was resting
her head. She looked up at his face, and he saw his mother staring back at him in a pair of large
hazel eyes. Looking behind her shoulder into the room, she pointed to one of the doors and said,
“Through there, take the second door on the left. The large oak door with the ivory handle leads to
the basement.”

Making his way to the door she mentioned, Harry noticed that she was trembling slightly.
Deciding to try to distract her a bit, he decided to ask her about the school.

“So, what do ya’ll use the basement for? Potions labs?” he suppressed a grimace at the decidedly
American *ya’ll*, but figured that it might sound more natural to the child. It was all for
naught, though, since she looked at him incredulously and replied, “Yes, and for cover during the
rare tornado. We had one not two months ago. It did lots of damage to all of the windows here, but
the walls are charmed to withstand more punishment than a twister can dish out.”

Harry nodded, and stored that fact away as the beginnings of a plan was forming in his mind.
They reached the door to the basement and Harry put her down. As he opened the door and ushered her
down the stairs, she turned back and said quietly, “Thank you. What’s your name again?”

“Ginerva Granger. And yours?”

“Alice. Alice Knight,” she paused for a moment, “I wish I had hair like yours.”

Harry smiled for a second at that odd statement, but realized that even the unlimited knowledge
of the *Aewonaur Coll* couldn’t explain the workings of the female mind to him. He bent
forward and whispered, “Thank you. I wish I had your nose.”

Alice raised a hand to her nose and crossed her eyes, trying to look at it. She looked up at
Harry and smiled, before it faded a bit and she whispered back, “Be careful, Ms. Granger.” With
that, she ran down the stairs into the basement.

Harry stood there for a moment and listened, hoping that she got to the bottom safely. A few
moments later, he heard murmurs downstairs, and relieved sighs. Satisfied, he closed the door and
placed several wards on the basement, keyed directly to the signature of a Griffin, so that only
Griffins couldn’t enter the basement. Those downstairs looked around as an odd silvery glow spread
across the walls of the basement and disappeared.

The last time he’d checked, there were only about a dozen Griffins inside, which meant that the
other twenty-seven were still outside, circling the perimeter. Harry quickly made his way to a
flight of service stairs and ran the six floors up to the roof. The door was locked, so he
muttered, “*Alohomora*,” and the door sprang open.

Dashing out onto the roof, he cast his gaze about, searching for all of the Griffins. They were
all concentrating on the windows and grounds, and as such had yet to see him. He spotted a large
stone on the grounds not too far away from a large shack, presumably the storehouse for gardening
equipment and supplies.

Harry quickly performed the Infra-Vision charm and could see that there was nothing living
inside the shack, the interior was cooler than everything else around it. He willed the rock to
start transforming into a thirteen-year-old girl shaped golem. It was a mindless automaton,
controlled totally by Harry. He made it run around a bit, until it caught the attention of all of
the Griffins circling the school, then had it run to the shack and lock itself in.

Most of the Griffins descended upon the small shack, with the remaining few circling about
overhead. The need for the golem sated, Harry let his concentration lapse and the construct
disintegrated, unseen by the creatures clawing at the door and digging under the walls.

Harry turned his attention toward the heavens, focusing on the currents of both magic and wind
surrounding the school. He redirected several currents of wind, making hot air clash with cold air
high up in the clouds. He raised his hand; his fingers extended as if holding a ball, and twisted
it clockwise.

As he did so, the warm and cool air above the shack began to affect the clouds, twisting and
turning, and reaching down to the ground below. Lightning flashed across the sky and thunder
cascaded over the landscape as the blue skies gave way to a foreboding green. This was a sight
rarely seen in Massachusetts, so far away from the Mid-Western states where such things were sadly
quite common.

Harry was making a tornado.

* * *

All of the witches and wizards gathered around the old table in the kitchen of Order
Headquarters gasped in awe at the spectacle before them while Alfirin simply shot a wry grin at
Dúath, who sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.

“HA HAH!” George shouted as he pumped a fist into the air, “Harry’s got ‘em now!”

“Harry’ll get through these tasks in no time!” Fred crowed, finishing his twin’s thoughts, as
usual. The rest of Harry’s friends agreed with the twins, though with varying degrees of
exuberance.

Dúath just shook his head. It was true that at the rate Potter was going, he would most likely
take out all of the Griffins without a problem, but there was more to this task than simply saving
a group of witches or stopping a bunch of Griffins.

If Harry didn’t learn *why* the Griffins were attacking the school and rectify that problem
as well, then he would fail the test. So far, he wasn’t even close to figuring out the cause of the
Griffins’ sudden assault on the American school.

With a self-satisfied smirk that made all of those at the table uneasy, Dúath turned his
attention back to the young wizard unleashing nature’s fury on the Griffins. The boy was talented,
there was no doubting that.

* * *

The Griffins that were circling above were hit first, caught up in the maelstrom and tossed
aside at over 100 miles an hour. They hit nearby trees, breaking them down, and went skidding along
the ground, digging long furrows in the earth.

The rest of the Griffins didn’t notice until it was too late. With terrified screams and cries,
the creatures tried to take flight, but the tornado touched down before any could take off. The
shack exploded outward as the twister came to earth right through the roof, sending debris shooting
in all directions. Several of the Griffins were hit by this and fell to the ground, unconscious or
dead, Harry couldn’t tell. The rest were swept up into the tornado.

As tornados go, it was relatively small. An F1, perhaps an F2, but nothing large enough to do
collateral damage to the manor. Through the thick dust and gusting winds, the dark shapes of the
Griffins were visible, swirling round and round before the odd one was heaved from the cyclone.
This continued for nearly ten minutes, the tornado weaving back and forth, catching up any
conscious Griffins and chucking them about like rag dolls.

Harry slowly let his control of the storm abate and watched as the tornado shrank and then
dissipated. The area around the shack was swept clean, the grass surrounding the area blown over,
as if someone had taken a gigantic comb and raked the grass down in a gigantic circle.

He brushed off his hands and made his way back to the roof door. 28 down, twelve to go.

* * *

Ron sat with everyone else, torn between worrying for his best friend and fighting a losing
battle with his thought long-dead jealousy of said friend.

*Figures that Harry gets something else to make him special! What, the scar, money and
newspaper articles weren’t enough for him?*

Almost as soon as those thoughts entered his head, Ron looked at his hand, holding onto a
distraught Hermione’s, who was watching the events before her on the edge of her seat. Worry was
evident on her face, and he felt ashamed of himself. Harry had done more for him than anyone else
ever, and those thoughts were unworthy of the both of them.

*I’m almost as bad as Malfoy!* Ron thought disgustedly, *Harry didn’t do this for the
fame; he did it to help people, like always. That Alf-whatever-his-name-is said that Harry didn’t
know that this smarmy bastard was going to put us in danger, and I believe him. Harry wouldn’t do
this to us intentionally, no matter what.*

Ron turned his attention back to his friend and tightened his grip on Hermione’s hand, giving
her comfort as they watched Harry make his way through the halls of the foreign school, knocking
out Griffins as he went.

* * *

Harry had already taken out eight of the remaining twelve Griffins, but he was having trouble
finding the last four. Slightly vexed, he performed another vision charm – this one allowed him to
see through walls.

*X-ray vision,* he thought with a smirk as he peered throughout the manor, looking for his
prey, *now all I need is blue tights and a red cape and I’ll be in business.*

Even though he was joking about it, he wasn’t actually seeing in the X-ray spectrum, and what he
was seeing didn’t look like an X-ray either. Everything inanimate was in shades of translucent
gray, while all living things were thrown into sharp relief against the dull background, the heat
of their bodies visible. What he saw was very confusing.

The other four Griffins were all in one area of the manor, obviously searching for something.
Harry had a hunch that what they were searching for was the woman holding her hands over the mouth
of what looked to be a small bundle. Narrowing his focus, he tried to see what the woman was
holding.

*Please tell me it’s not an infant, that’s all I need… wait a moment – no, it can’t
be!*

It was.

The woman was holding a Griffin cub.

Harry felt his intestines knot together and quickly deactivated the vision charm. So
*that’s* why the Griffins were attacking: they wanted their cub back. How was he going to
return the infant to its parents and save that woman?

The solution occurred to him as he was sprinting to the room that held the woman and young
Griffin: so far he’d only utilized action against the creatures. Perhaps it was time to use
words?

Harry was forming his plan as he focused on the magic around him and quickly pinpointed the
Anti-Apparation wards and briefly disabled them. Once he Apparated into room the woman with the cub
was in, he immediately reestablished them.

The woman spun around quickly at the loud *crack!* of Harry Apparating into the room. She
had sallow skin and limp black hair, with slightly yellowed teeth and acne scars on her forehead
and chin. Her black eyes were wide with fear and she was covered in sweat. The cub was cradled to
her chest, but her hold must have been rather tight, as the poor thing was squeaking every few
seconds in fright or pain, possibly both.

“Who are you?” she asked shrilly, attempting to keep her wand trained on him with a shaking
hand.

“Ginerva Granger,” Harry said, remembering the identity he’d made up for the teachers earlier,
“and you are?”

“Sylvia Noisome, Potions Mistress of this school. What do you want, Miss Granger?”

Harry looked at her for a moment, taking in the way she tightly held the Griffin cub and said,
“I want to know how you came to be in the possession of such a young Class 4 creature when they are
on the International Protected Species List.”

Sylvia’s mouth worked like a fish for a few moments, then she looked down at the cub she was
holding as if seeing it for the first time. She took a step back and raised her wand, then drew it
down diagonally in a slashing movement. As the purple flame shot out towards him, Harry realized
that the Potions Mistress had used the same curse on him that Dolohov had used on Hermione in the
Department of Mysteries.

Without even thinking about it, Harry’s wand flashed in a similar movement as Voldemort had made
during his battle with Dumbledore near the fountain in the Ministry. Instantly, a large shield with
a red and gold phoenix emblazoned across it appeared before him, and the curse splashed harmlessly
against it.

Noisome stood aghast for a moment, then turned and bolted for the door. By the time Harry had
dispatched his shield, she was already wrenching it open, but instead of running through it, she
backpedaled and screamed. The cub in her arms squeaked loudly as she nearly crushed it in fright.
Stepping to the side, Harry saw what it was that had her so frightened: the four remaining Griffins
were standing in the doorway and the hall outside the room, all growling fiercely, bristling and
preparing to attack.

The largest Griffin, the leader, darted forward and tried to free the cub, but Noisome stumbled
back and tripped over a nearby desk, crashing to the floor. Her hold on the cub was broken, and the
poor thing tumbled across the hardwood floor, coming to a rest against the wall. Upon seeing the
state of the cub, the remaining Griffins roared and started forward.

Though he had no great love for this Potions Mistress, Harry didn’t want to see her killed by
these Griffins. He stepped forward and held up his hand, motioning the creatures to halt.

“*Daro!*” Stop!

Upon hearing the ancient language that all creatures instinctually recognize, the four Griffins
looked at Harry incredulously – or, at least as incredulously as Griffins could look.

“*Úcaro gwannahen.”* Do not kill her.

“*Why not?*” asked the Griffin in the lead in the rumbling language of her species,
“*This one took my daughter. I want her blood!*”

The mother Griffin lunged for the cowering American woman, but Harry swiftly stepped forward and
planted a forceful kick in the side of the Griffin, which was in mid air at the time. The kick
shifted the Griffin’s trajectory, making it land closer to its cub than the head of Noisome, which
is where its claws had been aimed.

Harry pointed to the woman on the floor and said, “*Im pulnestasell ae nahe algwanno.*” I
can heal your daughter if *she* is not killed.

The mother Griffin looked at him for a moment, then nodded and barked an order to the remaining
Griffins, telling them to stand down. Once they had backed away, Harry stepped forward and knelt
down beside the injured cub.

Its breathing was labored, and there was blood lining the edge of its nostrils. Quickly checking
over the pained young creature, Harry determined that a couple of its ribs were broken, and one of
them had pierced a lung. One of its front legs had a hairline fracture in it as well. This would be
tricky, since he’d never actually healed anything before, but Harry had confidence that he could do
it.

Laying his hands gently over the spots with the worst damage – the broken ribs and punctured
lung – he closed his eyes and once more concentrated on the magical eddies surrounding him.

“*Peniarhaw, nestarhaw.*” Set the bones, heal the flesh.

He could almost see the tendrils of energy flow into the body of the Griffin cub, wrapping
around the offending rib and gently pulling it out of the small lung, sealing the break and seeping
into the wounded organ, mending the gaping tear there.

Several minutes of tense silence passed as Harry worked, a slight golden shine emanating from
his hands and the cub’s chest and mouth, which was slightly open in labored breathing. Suddenly,
the cub’s wheezing stopped, as did its quiet mewls of pain. It opened bleary eyes to see the
intense green of Harry’s, blinked and began to stir. Harry smiled and pointed at the cub’s mother,
“*Naten maer, naneth nasi.*” It’s okay, your mother is here.

The cub gave a delighted cry and leapt for its mother, its tiny wings fluttering. Mother and
daughter nipped at each other happily for a moment, until the elder Griffin picked up its child and
made its way to the door. She nodded to Harry as she passed, then gave a low growl to the other
three Griffins, who all made their way out of the manor. Looking out the window, Harry noticed that
many of the Griffins he’d taken care of with the tornado were rousing themselves, and it was likely
that most of the Griffins in the manor were coming to about now as well. Within a few minutes, the
large group of creatures was flying away from the school. He looked back at the Potions Mistress,
who was trying to sneak out of the room and make a break for it.

Harry stalked up to the hunched figure and bent over, grabbing an ankle tightly. Noisome
shrieked, flipped over and covered her head with her arms, fully expecting to be mauled by a
fearsome Griffin. Catching her collar in his fist, Harry yanked the whimpering woman to her feet
and brought her face uncomfortably close.

“You have a *lot* of explaining to do, lady.”

* * *

“HE DID IT! HE DID IT! HE DID IT!” shouted Fred and George excitedly, dancing around the others
while everyone watched Harry drag the pathetic woman down to the basement to explain to her
headmistress about how she’d been using her position in the school to hide her part in an illegal
ring of magical creature poaching/selling. The headmistress, aghast and appalled, fired the woman
immediately and Flooed the proper authorities to take the woman away.

Dúath stood up stiffly, his face stony, and drawing his cloak around him silently blinked out of
existence. The twins stopped their exuberant shouting as Harry disappeared from the American
school, and reappeared in a gigantic chamber reminiscent of the Chamber of Secrets, except instead
of gigantic serpent statues there were towering sculptures of knights, in full armor and with
various medieval weaponry.

The room Harry was in was massive, entirely crafted from black marble, including the knights.
There were several chandeliers lining the ceiling, the ropes holding them secured to many wall
mounts around the room. Braziers were spaced every few feet along the walls, giving the room
consistent, if not adequately bright, lighting.

Harry quickly reverted back to his normal body, transfiguring his clothing and under-things to
garments appropriate for any number of situations. His pants remained the same style, as did his
boots; but his jacket changed and melded into his pants, creating a body suit of sorts. It was
designed to protect him from the elements and some padding if whatever he was about to face
happened to be physically demanding. Then, he heard clapping behind him.

Everyone watched with bated breath as Dúath stepped out of the shadows and approached Harry. He
drew to within a few feet of their friend and folded himself within his voluminous cloak, skewering
Harry with an appraising look.

“Well done, Mr. Potter,” Dúath said waspishly, greatly reminding everyone of Snape (indeed,
Hermione could have sworn she heard her hated Potions professor huffing and muttering, “He’s doing
that wrong,” under his breath), “You have managed to save your friend Hagrid.”

True to his word, everyone noticed the rubies on Hagrid’s necklace glow briefly, and then
disappear altogether, allowing the metal pieces that were in between to fall away. Hagrid looked at
the pieces for a moment, feeling his neck to be sure that the blasted thing was gone, then held up
a fist in triumph, his eyes shining with pride and focused on Harry.

“However,” Dúath continued in the same quiet voice, “That was the easiest challenge you will
face. What awaits you in here is *much* more difficult, I dare say. Your Transfiguration
professor’s life is on the line this time, Harry, which is only fitting, seeing as what you’re
about to face is a little Transfiguration experiment of mine.”

A third voice laughed in the darkness, sending chills up everyone’s spines. Harry looked in the
direction the voice had come from. It had almost sounded human.

“You have to defeat *Aronoded Gûd* any way you can. You can beat him using your fists or
magic, but I’d be careful if I were you,” Dúath gave a feral smile, “Since you’re only allowed to
use magic three times in this task. If you perform more than three acts of magic, McGonagall dies –
this includes performing multiple spells or charms at the same time, so make them count.”

Dúath vanished, leaving Harry alone in the dimly lit chamber with whatever the ‘Aronoded Gûd’
was. Looking around, Harry tried to spot his adversary to no avail. He would simply have to wait
for his foe to come to him.

McGonagall was beaming with pride as Dúath reappeared next to Alfirin, scowling fiercely. He
threw himself into a seat and snapped his fingers, conjuring a large wad of blood red cotton candy,
which he eagerly began to devour. He pointedly ignored the glare Alfirin was shooting at him.

“You’re not wasting any time with Mr. Potter, are you?” Alfirin asked in a low voice.

Everyone else shared a confused look before Dúath answered, “No, I’m not Istagûl. He is
referring,” Dúath said to the assorted witches and wizards, “To the fact that the task Mr. Potter
is facing has never before been passed by *any* of those chosen before.”

There was a collective gasp from Harry’s friends and teachers, and then Alfirin continued, “Yes,
the only one who came close was the first recipient, but he used magic more than three times. Of
course, at that point, Iaur had not placed any limitations on how many times magic could be used –
but it didn’t matter, for his monstrosity had killed my choice.”

Hermione was about to ask another question, but Harry’s foe suddenly burst into the light, and
nothing was heard except for the sounds of battle.

* * *

Gûd attacked Harry from behind, shoulder checking him in the back and sending him sprawling.
Looking over his shoulder, Harry noticed that his attacker was nearly two meters tall and
outweighed him by nearly three stone. He was as dark as the marble around them, wearing clothes to
match. If it weren’t for his yellow eyes and even more yellow teeth, Harry would have guessed that
the man was a living shadow.

*Wouldn’t that be just* wonderful*?*

“Fresh meat, eh? ‘S abou’ time.” Gûd said in his not quite human voice.

Instead of answering, Harry concentrated and silently cast a long forgotten battle spell, not
used since the times of Merlin when wizards and Muggles lived side-by-side. The soreness from the
sneak attack all but disappeared as the spell took hold. The only sign of Harry’s rapidly
increasing strength, speed, stamina and recuperative abilities was an odd shimmer in his eyes,
which seemed to pulse a faint green light before returning to normal.

Harry pushed himself off of the ground and twirled in the air for a bit, lashing out and
striking at Gûd several times with his hands and feet, only to be blocked each time. Soon, the two
were locked in a battle that could only be described as epic – no quarter asked or given, blow
after blow delivered and blocked expertly.

Several times, one or the other would appear to get the upper hand, only to have his opponent
come back with a flurry of blows that would drive him back, giving the other time and space to
breathe.

This lasted for nearly fifteen minutes, when finally, Harry saw an opportunity and took it.
Spotting a weakness in Gûd’s defense, Harry exploited it to land several hard blows to Gûd’s
midsection and chest, ending with an earth shattering uppercut that knocked his opponent back
nearly ten meters into the marble wall behind him.

Harry’s apparent victory was short lived, however, as he watched in horror when Gûd simply
melted into the wall upon impact. Harry had no time to recover from this shock as Gûd sprung up out
of the floor in front of him, delivering an uppercut equal to the one that Harry had just dealt.
Harry flew several yards and landed hard on his back, dazed.

“I’ll admit that you’re one o’ the best I’ve ever fought, but I’m a part of this ‘ere chamber.
Master Dúath fixed it so that I’m bonded with the stones – I draw power from ‘em, they heal me. You
can’t win, no one ever does.”

Harry edged away from the approaching Gûd, taking in what he said about his unusual abilities.
Dúath had said that this creature was a ‘little Transfiguration experiment’ of his; it stood to
reason that what had been done to the man could be undone or circumvented in some way.

The continuation of the battle was almost entirely one-sided, now that Gûd had decided to stop
toying with his prey and unleash his full powers upon Harry. Every time the green-eyed hero would
begin to catch his wind and offer decent resistance, Gûd would reach up through the floor and trip
him up, or disappear into a wall or the floor and reappear in a seemingly random spot and attack
from a different angle.

Even with the battle spell, Harry was beginning to show signs of fatigue. After all, before this
fight, he’d taken on forty Griffins, and before that he’d gone through an emotionally exhausting
day. Now, he hadn’t slept in nearly a day and was beginning to work up an appetite, all the while
getting thrown around this chamber by a man-creature that was made of the same marble-like material
as their battle grounds.

That’s when it hit him – Harry could simply change what Gûd was made of. It was so simple he
couldn’t believe that he hadn’t thought of it before.

Right after this thought struck him an opportunity presented itself as Gûd made to leap on top
of Harry and bash the boy’s brains in. Harry brought up his feet and planted them firmly in Gûd’s
midsection, then thrust both legs out sending his opponent flying. As Gûd’s feet cleared the floor
Harry brought up one hand and shot a small orb of white light out of his palm, catching Gûd in the
center of the chest. He had completely transformed into white marble by the time he landed a few
feet away.

Harry rose to his feet with a triumphant smile on his face, but it was quickly replaced by a
look of horror. Gûd was standing up as well, and spreading from the area of the floor he was
touching was white marble. The transformation moved out like a shockwave, black marble becoming
white as the room began to change. The white marble moved up the walls as if the black were a
curtain being lifted. Soon, the entire chamber was a stunning white marble instead of black.

*Damn,* a dispirited Harry thought, *I just wasted my second spell, and I’ve only got one
more; If I don’t beat this guy Professor McGonagall will die!*

With that thought Harry launched himself at Gûd, unleashing an astonishing flurry of attacks
that drove the man back, giving Harry time to think about how he was going to beat this seemingly
immortal foe.

As he was fighting, Harry thought about how he could break the enchantment linking Gûd and the
chamber they were fighting in. It was highly unlikely that a simple *Finite Incantatem* would
do the trick, and simply blowing Gûd to small pieces wouldn’t do any good, since he would in all
likelihood simply reform. Transfiguring him didn’t seem to work, but there was something that Harry
was missing…

*Of course!* Harry thought excitedly, *He said that he was bonded with the stones, a part
of them. If he changes, the stones change. They only changed after he touched them in their natural
state. I wonder…*

Harry gave Gûd a right hook, then shot another ball of light, this one silver, at the wall
opposite them. Gûd looked over at the rapidly changing wall, taking in the way the shining steel
spread out over the white marble. He looked back at Harry with a smirk and shrugged his shoulders,
as if to say, “So what, that won’t make any difference.”

Harry just smiled wolfishly.

As the metal approached Gûd turned towards it and opened arms welcomingly, which was the last
mistake he would ever make. Harry darted forward and threw his arms around the surprised man,
lifting him off the marble floor and carrying him onto the rapidly expanding metal section of the
room. Once well inside the perimeter of metal Harry threw Gûd bodily into the wall, where he slid
to the floor looking dazed.

The room was nearly two-thirds metal by the time Gûd looked down at himself and noticed that he
wasn’t changing. His eyes growing wide with fear, he looked up at Harry, who said, “Thought
so.”

* * *

“YES!” Alfirin shouted as he pumped a fist into the air while Dúath put his head in his hands in
horror.

Everyone save those two, Dumbledore and McGonagall looked confused as to why Harry’s latest
action was eliciting such an enthusiastic response.

“Of course,” Dumbledore said quietly, but still audible to all those at the table, “The link
between him and the chamber would have allowed for it to change with him, but it can be changed
independently, as long as the change does not occur in any spot where he is present…”

This only confused the others more, so McGonagall stepped in to explain, as she did have the
most recent teaching experience, “What the Headmaster means is that while any changes made to that
– that *thing* – would automatically result in the environment changing as well, changing the
environment while keeping him the same is possible, as long as he isn’t in a spot where the chamber
is being changed; letting the change flow over him, so to speak.”

Hermione did not ask any questions about new material, for once, and simply returned her
attention to Harry and his opponent, who seemed to have realized the danger he was in as he tried
to push past Harry and get to a section of unchanged marble.

The problem he was faced with was that Harry had no intention of letting him touch any spot
where there was still marble. The two began to wrestle about while Gûd tried in vain to reach the
far wall. Finally, Gûd pushed Harry away and reached for a nearby rope that was connected to an
overhead chandelier, unfastening it and shooting upwards as the chandelier dropped.

Harry quickly grabbed a rope as well and shot up after him, running along the wall as he went
up. The only space in the entire room where there was any marble was a quickly shrinking circle
near the ceiling. If Harry didn’t get to Gûd in time, his opponent would be in contact with the
marble as it changed, allowing him to change as well, sealing Harry’s fate.

Planting one foot firmly on the wall, Harry sprang up the remaining few feet to Gûd, catching
him around the waist before he could do more than scratch his fingernails against the smooth stone.
Harry pulled Gûd away from the ceiling just as the metal came in and closed up, completely
replacing all the marble.

“NOOOOOOOO!” Gûd screamed as he and Harry began to fall the nearly sixty feet to the floor
below. Harry grabbed onto a rope and began to use it and the wall to slow his descent, running down
then jumping and rolling until he came to a stop, breathing heavy from his exertion.

Gûd, on the other hand, didn’t fair so well. He did manage to grab a rope as he fell, but only
after falling nearly thirty feet, which caused him to swing at incredible speeds into the now metal
wall, stunning him. He fell the last thirty feet to land hard on his back. As bad as the fall had
seemed to be, what was happening to him as a result of being cut off from the chamber’s powers
seemed much worse. He was screaming in pain as his body convulsed and began to glow an eerie
purple, then there was a flash and he was quiet.

For a moment they all thought he was dead, but then he shakily got to his feet. Now that the
enchantment had been lifted from him, they noticed that his skin was a very pale white (probably
from not seeing any sun in who knows how long), his short cropped hair dark brown, the same as his
still glazed eyes. His teeth remained yellow, and Hermione could be heard tsking and quoting facts
about the ‘consequences of not brushing properly’ under her breath.

Harry pushed himself up to a standing position and assumed a fighting stance before quietly
saying, “Now, why don’t we try this again?”

Gûd focused on Harry and screamed in rage before throwing himself at the boy, who sidestepped
his charge and brought his palm up to catch the man under the chin, which threw his head back and
sent him for a flip. Gûd came crashing down, but Harry didn’t let him stay down for long.

They quickly began to trade blows, and though Gûd had lost his biggest advantage, he still had
height and weight on Harry, not to mention his not-so-inconsiderable fighting skills as well. They
began to go back and forth, but it was a much more even fight than it had been before.

Gûd finally got both hands around Harry’s neck but had no chance to throttle the boy, as Harry
quickly brought up his right elbow and caught the man under the jaw, snapping his head back and
breaking his hold. Harry quickly turned around full circle, bringing his left fist up in a vicious
backhand blow to Gûd’s left temple, making the man stumble to the right. Immediately after this
Harry brought his right hand down in a hard chop to the juncture between shoulder and neck,
bringing Gûd’s head back to the left. Not wasting any time, Harry stepped in and brought his left
arm up under his opponent’s left shoulder, linking his hands together behind the man’s head. He
then used a shoulder throw to lay the man out.

He backed away, expecting Gûd to pass out, but the man struggled to his feet, turning to Harry
and bringing his fists up. Tired of this game, Harry let loose a yell of fury and caught Gûd with a
right cross that spun them both around full circle, only Harry had also brought his left fist back
around for yet another backhand blow. Then, using the momentum from his spin, he brought his right
back up for an uppercut that lifted Gûd off of his feet.

The man crashed limply to the floor, unconscious and definitely beaten. Almost immediately, the
jewels in McGonagall’s collar glowed briefly then disappeared, allowing the metal rods between them
to fall to the floor. She, along with all of Harry’s friends, cried out in triumph and began
clapping excitedly.

“I think the boy has earned a rest, don’t you Iaur? After all, no one’s ever done what he has
before,” Alfirin suggested quietly, barely audible over the din that was the Order of the Phoenix
and Hogwarts students.

Dúath was looking at Harry with a great deal more respect and nodded, “Very well, Istagûl, he’ll
get one hour of rest then the tasks begin again.” He clapped his hands once, and Harry was
transported to a new room, almost completely white with the exception of a fountain in the middle
comprised of black marble. There was only one door, but it was closed.

All the noise stopped when Hermione cried out and pointed at Harry, as they watched him slowly
sink to his knees and then fall face first to the floor, where consciousness left him.