Disclaimer: I realize that I probably don't have to do this for every chapter, but that would take away the fun of coming up with witty, silly, and sarcastic ways to say, "Get a clue people; Harry Potter is not mine . . . sadly."
Summary: Oh, I don't know . . . Why don't you try looking in chapter nine? *snickers*
Small Snippet to Torture Reader Until Reader Reads (and Reviews .:Hint:. .:Hint:.): "Harry?"-"Shh. You'll wake Madam Pomfrey. Scoot over." Harry settled next to her, his arms wrapping around his Hermione, bringing her close. Everything drained away. The peace. That was all he needed. She was all he needed. "Harry? What's wrong? Did something happen-?" His finger rested on her lips, silencing her. "I'm fine, just worn out. I just need to get away from everything. I just need you to make it all go away."
~*~*~*~*~
Raven Reviews
(Chapter Eight)
~*~*~
Harry was rushing to his first class of the day, which happened to be his favourite, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he was going to be late. Even his shortcuts were proving fruitless. He was going to kill his roommates later for letting him sleep in-once he caught his breath.
He skidded to a halt outside of the Defense classroom just as the bell rang. He entered the room, hoping the new Professor wouldn't notice, when suddenly he saw a spell flying at him out of the corner of his eye. Quickly, he ducked down to avoid getting hit as he whipped out his wand.
"You're late."
Harry spun to his left to find the one who had spoken and was met with another curse. This time, he countered it with a hasty Protego. He focused on the source of the curses, a young woman new to his eyes, and figured she was the new Defense Professor. He hoped to Merlin she didn't already hate him for reasons unexplained like Snape had in his first year, but he couldn't explain her odd behaviour any other way. "Why are you attacking me?"
The Professor's black eyes glittered with amusement as she spoke. "You're late." She walked slowly toward him, around her desk, as she continued, "People who are late in my class will be tested. House points and detentions are meaningless in real life as far as I'm concerned. They won't improve your defense skills," smirking, she raised her wand once more, "but keeping you on your guard, that's a whole other story," she said, tucking a lock of ebony hair behind one ear before firing off another curse.
The two continued their haphazard dance, spells flying in all directions and hitting a few unlucky students unable to block in time. It wasn't until the third student to sprout tentacles on his head left for the hospital wing that the new Professor ceased fire. She bent over, slowly catching her breath. "You did well, but you'll need to learn not to say your spells aloud. I suppose I'll give you some credit, though; at least you didn't get hit. Thank you for that demonstration to help start things off for today. I think my class is fully awake now. Please, take your seat Mr. Potter, and be sure to come to class on time when next we meet."
"How did you know my . . . ? Never mind. I don't even know why it surprises me any more," Harry muttered, shaking his head. He quickly took a seat between Hermione and Ron before their hex-happy Professor decided to continue testing him.
"For those of you who weren't paying attention at the welcoming feast the other night, assuming you were there, my name is Raven Nevar or Professor Nevar to you. Previously, I was working at the Ministry-" a few groans throughout the room caused her to pause for a moment. "As I was saying, I have worked at the Ministry as an Auror for the past two years." She stopped, glancing around at the annoyed and bored looks she was receiving after her pronouncement-a stark contrast to the expressions worn during her "demonstration." Narrowing her eyes, she continued, her voice soft and deadly, "Don't make the assumption that I am anything like your previous professor because you'll find yourselves sorely mistaken."
Professor Nevar slowly walked around the room as she spoke, her dark eyes roving over the class. "Today, I want to test your skill level. I cannot teach you properly if I don't know what it is I need to teach you. Break into pairs and practice basic spells. Disarming, Stunning, and Shielding for starters."
At her words, the class began shuffling around. Harry immediately turned to Ron, but before they could start dueling, their new professor called Harry to the front of the class, "Harry, a word, please."
"Yes, Professor?" he asked, when he reached her desk.
She took a moment to wave her wand discretely before speaking. "I take it you've spoken with Dumbledore about our lessons on Fridays?" she said in a low undertone.
"Yes, Ma'am. I spoke with him last night."
She nodded her head. "Good. Now, you do realize these lessons are to be strictly confidential? No one is to know about them aside from your closest friends. We don't need the newspapers having a field day with articles about Hogwarts giving you special treatment. The fact of the matter is that you do have a destiny to fulfill, and preparing you for it in any way possible is a necessity. The last thing we need is word spreading to our enemies that you're gaining power." Harry nodded his head in agreement as she continued, "Let them underestimate you. It will prove useful in the end. If you've got nothing else, at least give yourself the advantage of surprise, right?"
"Right." Harry narrowed his eyes, but held his tongue about her "if you've got nothing else" comment.
"You know you'll have to hold back in classes. You'll probably have to put up with taunts from any school rivals you may have. I've heard you tend to let loose when you're upset, but you're going to have to control that tendency now. So, do you think you can handle that?" she asked with eyebrows raised.
"If I have to, then I will," Harry replied stiffly.
"Just be content with the knowledge that you could beat anyone you wanted without the need to prove yourself. Only the weak feel the need to show they are not. The strong know they are strong and, in a manner of speaking, do not need to bark as loudly. Get it?"
Harry nodded.
"All right then. Let's go see what you and your partner are made of."
Spells were thrown, dodged, blocked and some found their marks. Ron was on the floor laughing from a cleverly place Rictusempra while Harry was nursing a gash on his arm.
"Jeez, Ron, you couldn't have used something a little more friendly?" Harry gritted.
"I-I'm-s-sor-heh heh-sorry-c-could-you-take the-haha-s-spell off-HAHA-NOW!"
"Finite."
Ron's body flopped to the floor, one arm clutching his stomach. "Tha-thanks, mate. That was one hell of a curse! I could barely breathe!"
"Sorry, but I got distracted by the blood gushing out of my arm."
"Sorry, 'bout that. I didn't think I'd actually hit you."
"I blame Neville's misaimed spell. It threw me off." They grinned as Harry helped Ron up.
"Nah, I don't think it was Neville's this time, surprisingly."
~*~*~
"Well, that wasn't so bad," said Ron as the trio walked from their defence class. "She's nothing like Umbridge, thank Merlin. First day, and we're already duelling."
"Yeah, and she's not all talk like some professors," Harry jested.
"Oh, honestly! I was thirteen! Are you going to hold that against me for the rest of my life?" Hermione huffed.
"Why, whatever do you mean, Hermione?" Harry asked innocently.
She stomped her way ahead of them, muttering about boys who couldn't let the past die.
The other two snickered softly behind her.
"So, what are our schedules like?"
Hermione jumped at the change of subject, glad to take the focus off of her past crush. "I've got Arithmancy next. What about you two?"
"Break," the two wizards replied simultaneously.
Hermione shook her head, "I swear, you two have been hanging around the twins too often." The boys looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.
"Just wait until you see the pranks we have in store for this year."
"Yeah, my brothers will be proud."
"You two better not harm anyone!"
"Oh, come now, Hermione. Surely you can trust us? Can't she trust us, Ron?"
" 'Course! You should know by now, Hermione, that even if we do get caught, Dumbledore loves us and would never toss us out!"
"See, no reason to worry, Hermione."
"I feel so much better now."
"Really? You mean all we had to do was-"
"No, not really! Harry, you of all people should be able to recognize sarcasm, especially after last year!"
"Hey! I have a good reason for last year! I was a moody, hormonally challenged, teenage boy. It explains everything."
"Oh, my mistake. How silly of me."
"Now, now. That sarcasm is not appreciated!"
"Harry?"
"What?"
"Shut up already."
"Wha-now that was just rude, Hermione!"
"Very rude, Hermione."
"Oh stop it. I get the point. Only you two are allowed to use sarcasm."
"Exactly!"
Hermione glared at them. "Anyway, I don't see how this has anything to do with not hurting people."
"Yeah, and? Ow! Harry!"
"Sorry, but you really shouldn't provoke her right now. I think her hair is starting to stand up."
"I heard that!"
"Sorry, 'Mione! Won't happen again."
Another glare and finally a sigh. "Can you two please promise me you won't harm anyone?"
"Er . . . Good question. Ron, you take this one."
"Wha-why me?"
"Because you're used to arguing with her."
"Damn. You have a point."
"I'm waiting."
"Yeah, yeah. Keep your shirt on."
"Gladly."
"Real funny, Hermy."
"DON'T call me that!"
"So Harry can call you pet names, but I can't? You two aren't having a fling or something are yo-?"
Thump.
"Ow! That hurt! Harry, she hurt me! Make her stop!"
"Sorry, Ron, but you have to admit you deserved that one."
"I do not! I don't have to admit anything. I now have a lump on my head and a bruised toe. I'm the victim here."
"Sure you are, Ron."
"Can we please get back to the subject? Will you two promise you won't hurt anyone?"
"Do you mean physically or mentally?"
"Both!"
"Damn."
"Ron! You're a prefect! You're supposed to uphold the rules!"
"Yeah, and?"
"Urgh! Just promise me you two!"
"Yes. Yes. We promise."
"You're doing it again!"
"Doing what?"
"Talking at the same time!"
"Sorry."
"Ah! Stop it!"
"Sorry."
Hermione, having finally had enough, huffed away from them down the hall, only stopping to say, "I'll see you in Transfiguration later!" before rounding a corner.
The two boys smiled.
"She can't stay mad at us."
"Nope."
"Pretty useful, that is."
"Yep."
"You know, Harry, I recon we're the only ones who can get away with just about anything around her."
"We've corrupted her."
"I know. Isn't it great?"
Their laughter filled the hall.
"Ah, this is the life. A two hour long break and then lunch! How much better can it get?" Ron asked as they made their way to the Gryffindor common room.
"Not much."
~*~*~
At eight o'clock the next morning, a fuming Harry galumphed across Hogwarts' grounds to join Hagrid for his first class of the semester. He couldn't believe the nerve of some people, especially when those people were his best friends. He'd found out that morning that Hermione and Ron hadn't signed up for Care of Magical Creatures, and Harry was the one who had to deliver the bad news to Hagrid . . . alone. Poor Hagrid, Harry thought. He hoped the half-giant wouldn't be too upset. Harry was actually a bit worried. When leaving the common room, he'd noticed many people in his year just sitting about. He looked around the grounds momentarily for a few familiar faces but found none.
Harry hurried to the hut on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, hoping to find a few people already milling around the place, but the scene was empty. He briefly wondered if he'd mixed up his classes. He double checked the parchment dictating his schedule and found the words Tuesday, 8:00-11:55, Double Care of Magical Creatures staring back at him, negating his previous doubts.
Making his way to the entrance of Hagrid's hut, he banged on the door, hoping to get some answers from his friend. Soon after a muffled bark from Fang and some loud footsteps, Harry was standing below Hagrid's looming shadow.
Harry took one look at the man's expression and knew immediately something was definitely wrong. "Hagrid, what's going on? Where is everyone?"
"So . . . yer actually here fer class, or are yeh jus' here ter pity me?" he asked, his face sullen.
"Pity you? Hagrid? What on Earth are you talking about?" Harry entered the hut, keeping an eye on Hagrid as he passed him.
"Nobody showed. Yer the on'y one. I figured none o' yeh were takin' me class," said Hagrid forlornly as he slumped into a chair. "An' I had tons o' stuff planned fer this year. All sorts o' beasts. Yeh woulda loved 'em."
Every Gryffindor in his year dropped Hagrid's class . . . every single one of them? Harry could scarcely believe it. Sure, Hagrid tended to go a little . . . overboard sometimes, but he was still a decent teacher. No wonder his classmates had been sitting around. They didn't have class in the morning since Hagrid's class took up both periods. He mentally shook himself. His shock quickly wore off as anger began to rush through his veins. How dare they? How could they all just abandon him like that? Harry was determined to make it up to Hagrid. He'd be the best student ever! Or . . . at least he'd try. He'd show them all that Hagrid was a good Professor, and they were all cowards. So much for their Gryffindor bravery.
"Well, Hagrid, I'm still one of your students, and I'd be happy to learn from you . . . Professor." Harry silently cheered in triumph as Hagrid's face lit up.
"Yeh sure, 'Arry?"
"I didn't decide to take your class for nothing, Hagrid."
A true grin broke out on Hagrid's face. "Well then, what're we waitin' fer? Get out there! We've got a class ter start."
As Harry rounded the corner of Hagrid's hut, he found a row of small wooden cages lined up along the garden. At first it seemed there were Snitches inside each cage, but upon further inspection, the flying golden balls were actually birds.
"Hagrid, are those…?"
"Snidgets. Those babies are wha' they used ter use 'fore the Golden Snitch was made."
"Can I hold one?"
" 'Course! Jus' remember. They're tricky li'l devils. Fast as a Snitch, they are."
"Well, I'm not a Seeker for nothing."
~*~*~
By the time eight o'clock rolled around, Harry was completely beat. Charms had been a disaster. Gryffindors had been pared with Slytherins, and once Professor Flitwick had given them free time to practice spells, all hell had broken loose. Goyle had set his pillow on fire and tried to banish it in a moment of panic. The flaming ball of fabric had landed on Hermione's head, causing her bushy mane to go up in smoke; Neville had to take her to the Hospital Wing in tears; and half of the Gryffindors had to hold Ron and Harry back to keep the two from hexing Goyle (along with Malfoy and Crabbe since it had probably been their faults as well) to the bottom of the lake for a month with boils protruding from unmentionable places.
Harry sighed as he settled himself at one of the tables in his Transfiguration classroom. He assumed McGonagall was still busy with the two first years who had welded their heads together in a duel during supper. The first week back was always the most hectic and entertaining as the first years were too eager to practice magic and usually ended up botching whatever spells they were trying to manage. He could still remember Seamus and his explosive rum from his first year.
As he waited for McGonagall to arrive, his thoughts began to wander to Hermione, wondering how she was doing in the Hospital Wing. Surely the damage couldn't have been that bad, could it? She hadn't been at dinner, but Harry and Ron had just passed off her absence due to embarrassment. Of course she wouldn't want to show up to dinner bald. Then again, her head had been set on fire . . . She could have been seriously injured. Worry began to seep through him, his thoughts becoming grimmer by the second. What if-?
"I'm sorry that took so long, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall interrupted his troubled musings as she barged into the room. "First years," she muttered under her breath as she neared him. "Are you ready to begin?" Without waiting for a reply, she whipped out her wand. "Now, we'll be focusing mostly on conjuring and Animagus training. Professor Dumbledore wants to prepare you as much as possible without completely overloading you, so we'll start out slowly and work our way up to the tougher stuff.
"I think for tonight, we'll focus on finding out what animal you will transform into and start your progression to becoming an Animagus. Normally, Animagi have to go through a visualisation process to find and accept the animal that truly represents the person inside. In most cases, this is necessary as most people cannot cope with their true reflections, and by forcing future Animagi to face their inner selves and overcome the fear of their true reflections helps weed out the week and prevents their inevitable insanity. However, since we have little time, I'll be performing a spell that will force you to change into your Animagus form. There will be no visualisations to help you come to terms with who you really are. I suggest, to soften the blow, you take a few moments to really think about what kind of person you are.
"Now, as I perform the spell, I want you to focus on the feeling of your body morphing. Once you are in your Animagus form, remember the feeling and focus on being human again, what it physically feels like to be human. If you are unable to transform back into your normal state by the end of our session, I will cast the counter-spell to turn you back. We will continue our lessons like this until you can transform back into your human body easily and with no help from me.
"Once you are comfortable with the Animagus to human transformation, we will focus on the much harder part: How to morph into your Animagus form. Do you have any questions?"
~*~*~
Harry couldn't get away from McGonagall fast enough, his quick steps echoing down the corridors. He'd failed miserably, and while she had only said "it was to be expected," he felt like a failure. He'd nearly passed out while focusing on becoming human again. The only good part about the night was finding out his Animagus form. He just hoped it wasn't too much to handle. McGonagall had warned him that his animal senses might take over, making it harder to remember how to be human and transform back, but he hadn't been prepared for the overwhelming primal urges and simplistic thoughts.
Being forced to stay in his new body for almost two hours had set him on an emotional rollercoaster. There were only basic needs and instincts, but they were the strongest he'd ever felt. Harry could barely keep himself in check let alone focus long enough to transform.
Harry slowed his pace to a brisk walk, heaving a sigh as he continued forward. He wasn't even sure if he could be an Animagus. What if he just didn't have the talent for it? His father was brilliant at Transfiguration, but Harry? Harry was only average. Nothing special about his skills in that subject.
Another sigh escaped his lips.
He really needed to relax.
He thumped against the wall, his body sliding down it. His heart ached. His head ached. So many thoughts, he couldn't pick out one if he tried, but somehow, he could feel the pain of them all. His parents, Sirius, even the guilt of Cedric came floating through. His body and mind were drained. Everything weighing on him, everything he usually pushed aside, came flooding to the forefront of his mind. It gnawed at him, tearing and ripping. The prophecy and Voldemort, the death and blood that forever coated his hands because of that crazy bastard. He felt sick from it all. He needed to forget everything, needed someone to take it all away.
Someone.
Anyone.
No, not anyone.
Someone.
A very specific someone.
Hermione.
He could still feel her body pressed against his, the smell of her hair. She'd made him forget everything before. He needed her to do it again. Needed to feel safe and loved. Needed to fall into the bliss of nothingness.
Yes, he needed Hermione.
She'd make everything better.
He felt his body moving, drawn to where she was with only one thought running through his mind: Hermione.
There she was, looking like an angel while resting peacefully in the Hospital Wing, moonlight surrounding her newly formed tresses. He hated disturbing her, but he needed her. His fingers twined around her short curls, slowly moving down her face and to her neck. His gentle touch roused her, her eyes blinking slowly open.
"Harry?"
"Shh. You'll wake Madam Pomfrey. Scoot over." Harry settled next to her, his arms wrapping around his Hermione, bringing her close. Everything drained away. The peace. That was all he needed.
She was all he needed.
"Harry? What's wrong? Did something happen-?"
His finger rested on her lips, silencing her. "I'm fine, just worn out. I just need to get away from everything. I just need you to make it all go away."
Her eyes searched his, the words "What's wrong?" flickering behind them, but she never asked again. She accepted his silence and his embrace. Their eyes continued to gaze back at each other as their heads rested together. Harry held her tighter, losing himself in the feel of her body against his and the warmth of her breath on his face. It was heaven, but he wanted more. He needed to be closer.
He pulled her on top of him, her head resting on his chest. The weight of her body numbed the pain, but he still wasn't close enough. Why couldn't he get close enough? He craved her, wanted to feel every part of her. What was wrong with him? His body was reacting in ways it never had before. Not like this. Not with Hermione. Not with his best friend. It was a strange feeling, stronger than he'd ever felt before.
It still wasn't enough.
He rolled them over, his body settling between her legs, his head resting in the crook of her neck. The heat of her skin burned beneath him, his lips only inches away from the softness of her neck. He nuzzled against her, letting his lips brush her skin, moving up to her cheek and the side of her mouth. His lips were a hairsbreadth away from hers. He wanted so badly to kiss her. His eyes strayed to hers, wanting to see his desperation reflected in her eyes.
Instead he saw a scared girl, powerless to fight his will. It threw him, jolted him back to reality. He suddenly realized he was pressing his best friend into a bed, only seconds away from destroying their friendship.
He panicked.
She'd have hated him forever if he had actually. . . .
He backed away from her, still gazing into her startled eyes.
He only said two words before he left her, "I'm sorry."
~*~*~
The next day was nothing short of torture. Every time he looked at Hermione, all he saw were those scared eyes she'd worn the night before. He couldn't bring himself to face her. They didn't speak to each other, and Harry was sure Hermione hated him. To top things off, Ron was ever questioning "What's wrong?" and "What's going on between you two?"
"Honestly, Harry, why don't you just say you were wrong and she's right and be done with it already? That always works for me," Ron tried to explain on their way to Herbology that morning. Hermione had gone ahead of them, making up some excuse about asking Professor Sprout a question about the text.
"Ron, it's not exactly that simple."
" 'Course it is! You don't actually have to believe it. You just have to say it, and she'll forgive you. Things are just way too weird when you two aren't speaking, so be the bigger man and make out with her!"
Harry stumbled. "Wha-What did you just say?"
"I said, 'be the bigger man and make up with her!' "
Harry sighed. Great. This whole ordeal was driving him insane. Good to know. At least he'd be prepared when the men-in-white-coats came for him. "I already told you, Ron, it's not that simple."
"Oh, come on, Harry! How difficult can it be? It's Hermione. She always overreacts. Just make her feel like she's the best in the world, and you're home free."
"Ron, stop worrying. Things will blow over soon enough. Hermione can't stay mad at me forever."
"AHA! So it is your fault!"
"Oh, shut it."
~*~*~
That night's lesson with Dumbledore started off with a quick review of theories behind more advanced magic. When they finally got to the practical part of their session, Harry was disappointed to find out they were going to continue with Harry's Occlumency training. Dumbledore was much gentler than Snape had ever been, but he didn't let up on Harry until he'd made significant improvement that night. Harry wondered when they were going to be getting to the really "good" stuff, but Dumbledore refused to say exactly what else they would be doing that year. He kept pushing the importance of Occlumency, said there were things Harry needed to know and keep to himself. Dumbledore refused to elaborate anymore until he was sure Harry could hold his own against Voldemort's mental attacks.
Friday came as a blessing to Harry. Finally, the weekend was at hand. Just one more day of agony-ahem-classes, and Harry would be able to catch up on sleep . . . assuming Hermione would be kind enough to help him with his homework, which-considering his current predicament concerning his female best friend-was unlikely. Actually . . . even if Hermione, by some miracle, did take pity on him, he was probably screwed either way. No, no. He couldn't think like that. He needed to think positive thoughts, but he was only able to be as optimistic as a man marked for death by a murderous lunatic could be.
Oh, hell . . . .
He was screwed.
Optimism, optimism . . . !
He really needed a distraction, something to take his mind off of things. It was only the first week of classes and he was already taking measurements for his coffin. At the rate he was going, he wasn't sure he'd make it past the first month of the new semester let alone long enough to actually face Moldy Voldy in their foreseen duel to the death. Two hour breaks? HA! He'd be lucky to get two hours of sleep with all of the work he had to do. Maybe that was Voldemort's objective? Worry people to the point of working themselves to death in order to not die. Harry found he really despised irony.
As the day progressed, his need for a distraction brought bitter thoughts of his pesky need being the cause of his current situation in the first place. Even so, his treacherous mind began to wander back to the night he'd visited Hermione in the Hospital Wing. If anything could prove a distraction for Harry, it was Hermione. Too bad she was the thing he needed to be distracted from. He missed her touch more and more. She'd become something of an addiction to him. It probably wasn't healthy, but he didn't care. She made the chaos in his life melt away.
Their near kiss had lingered in his thoughts since that day. The way she'd felt against him; the way she'd smelled of vanilla and pumpkin pie-his stomach dropped-those scared eyes that haunted him.
"Mr. Potter, please pay attention. I'll not ask you again. The next time I catch you nodding off, it's detention."
"Right, Professor McGonagall. It won't happen again."
"See to it that it doesn't."
Those eyes that haunted him . . . were they watching him now? He could feel her gaze burning a hole in the back of his head. Yes, she was definitely staring at him. What was she thinking? Did she want to talk to him? He couldn't do that. He wasn't ready to face her. Not until he could erase the image of her frightened gaze.
He was definitely skipping dinner that night. He had his first "extra curricular" lesson with Professor Nevar that night. He didn't need the added stress of an angry or teary Hermione. Those eyes. Harry shook his head. Yes, he definitely wasn't eating supper.
~*~*~
Harry waited for Professor Nevar in her office, willing her to take as long as possible to finish dinner. Under normal circumstances, he would have loved to learn some extra tricks, but the past week had completely worn him down, and the last thing he wanted to do was dodge curses.
It was all too soon when the dark skinned witch entered the room. She glanced at him as she strode to her desk. Grabbing a bag, she finally spoke. "Harry, we won't have enough space to practice what I want to teach you in my classroom. We'll be going to a special room. I believe Headmaster Dumbledore called it the Room of Requirement. You should know of it."
"Yes"
"He said you'd know where to find it." She waited for Harry's nod before continuing. "Please lead the way."
Moments later, Harry was pacing the corridor outside the Room of Requirement. Nevar's face was full of curiosity and amazement as a door shimmered into existence. They entered a large room lined with shelves of defense books and cushions.
"Will this do?" Harry asked.
Nevar took a quick look around. "For now." She strode to the center of the room, laying her bag down. Unbuckling the rucksack, she drew out two long swords, one adorned with dark blue sapphires, the other with rubies. Settling herself on the ground, she waved Harry over to join her. "Now, I understand you've wielded a sword before?"
"Briefly. I wouldn't really call it wielding one. More like knowing it's the only weapon you have and doing your best to stay alive."
"I see." She frowned in thought. "I'll need to teach you the basics first then. I won't have you wielding a weapon you have no control over. You'll end up cutting what you wish to protect and missing what you wish to cut, otherwise." She then took one sword and wrapped material around the sheath and hilt. "Do not untie this until you have mastered your control." She then handed him the blade.
Nevar took the other weapon in her hands, and instructed him to stand across from her, allowing enough space between them for sword movement. "Do not do anything yet. Watch first. Once I've broken things down, it will be your turn.
"Now, watch closely." She held her blade before her in both hands, the tip pointing at Harry. Quickly she thrust the sword toward his head and, just as quickly, pulled it away to hide behind her right leg. The sword swung from the ground up across her body before circling around over her head to slash down along the same path, hiding once again behind her leg. Her sword swept from right to left, then hid behind her left leg. Her next movements were similar, reversed, and after she brought her blade to swipe across once more, she held it over her head and swung straight down. Her body stilled for a moment, then relaxed. "There are eight movements of the basic sword form. The first is the Ski." She moved into the starting position. "Make sure your feet are shoulder-width apart and the tip of your blade is level with your opponent's eyes. Then you thrust." Her blade, once again, rushed toward Harry's face. "Try it."
Nevar showed Harry how to hold his sword as he imitated her stance. "Now, when you thrust, don't extend your arms out fully. You never want to lock your elbows or your knees. Your control lessens and you become stiff and unable to move as quickly. You want your movements to be fluid and flexible to change. Now thrust toward my eyes. Don't use the strength of your arms to power the blow, throw the weight of your whole body into it as you step forward." Harry did as she instructed, the end of his sheath stopping inches away from her face. "Good. You'll need to work on it, but it will do for now."
She continued onto the next steps, Harry repeating her movements as she broke down the form for him. He felt a bit silly at first, waving around a sword still sheathed, striking at thin air. She assured him it was necessary, however, to build his strength and control. She told him to repeat the sword form, over and over, until he could do it in his sleep. "It needs to be second nature for you," she explained.
By the time Professor Nevar stopped him, an hour had come and gone. "Well, I think that's enough of that for today. Next we'll talk about what your training will eventually lead to. I'm sure you've been wondering why I'm teaching you Muggle fighting techniques?"
"Yes, actually. No offence, but it seems kind of silly when Voldemort only needs to flick his wand to send me to the ground in pain. What's the point in using a sword if I can't get near him?"
The corners of Nevar's mouth slowly turned up into a mischievous smirk. "What use is it, indeed." She took her wand out and cast a Reducto at the closest wall. "Do you see the power of my strike? The damage is considerable, but not extraordinary. Now, watch." She touched the end of her wand to the base of her sword's hilt. The sword began to glow as her wand sank into the handle. Quickly, she thrust her weapon at the opposite wall. A jet of magic burst forth completely destroying half the room. The rubble on the ground slowly mended together to repair the ruined walls. "Hm, well that's convenient," she remarked, watching the last of the debris replace itself.
"As you can see, the power is nearly twenty times what it normally is. I didn't add any more power to my strike. The sword increased it for me, allowing me to conserve my energy." She pointed to the sapphires on the hilt. "These two swords are specially made. The gems along the hilt take the magic you give the sword and increase it. The different metals of the swords act in the same way. As you can see, your sword's hilt is made of gold, while mine is made of bronze. The different metals and stones increase the power of different spells more than others. Your sword is made more for combat type spells, while mine is made more for defensive spells."
Harry took a look at the handle of his sword. Glittering rubies shone back at him. Suddenly, he realized he'd seen this sword before, used it even. "This is Gryffindor's sword!"
Nevar smiled. "That it is."
"Is that . . . ?"
"Ravenclaw's sword? You better believe it."
"How?"
"It's a family heirloom."
"So that makes you . . ."
"The heir of Ravenclaw."
"Wow."
Nevar's laughter echoed throughout the room. "I suppose I forgot to tell you. Only the heirs of Hogwarts' founders can fully use the power of these swords."
"Oh. I se-wait! That means I'm the heir of Gryffindor?"
She only smiled.
"Why hasn't anyone ever told me before?"
"Probably because it's not widely known."
"What about Dumbledore?"
"Yes, he knew. He was the one who gave me permission to return your sword to you, after all."
"My sword?" The concept seemed so strange to him. The family tree he'd found in the Potter mansion had been correct. He was the heir of Gryffindor. And Dumbledore knew all along! "Why didn't he tell me? He promised to tell me everything last year!"
Nevar's eyebrows raised. "Perhaps he wanted to wait until you were old enough to wield the sword before giving it to you?"
"He could have at least told me about my heritage!"
She nodded, agreeing with him. "I'm sure he had his reasons."
"Doesn't he always?"
Nevar smiled. "He told me he'd held a few things back from you, but I never thought there could have been so much you resented him for it."
"I-I don't resent him. I'm just a bit peeved, that's all." Harry sighed. "He has a nasty habit of telling only half truths."
"Aye, he does. Don't let it get you down, though. At least you know now, right?"
"I suppose."
Nevar looked at her watch. "It's already been two hours. Leave the sword with me for now. You can carry it with you when you're ready to use it." She took the offered blade from him. "You should go get some sleep"-Harry's stomach rumbled-"and some food."
"Right. Thanks, Professor."
~*~*~
A/N: So what has it been. About a year? Ye-ah, sorry about that. Life's been hectic lately. I now have a fiancé and am the proud mother of two guinea pigs, Aidan and Yuki. So, forgive me? At least I have good news! I've finished chapter nine already. It's a bit shorter, but done nevertheless. I think I'll post that two weeks after this one. I need to spread these out to give me time to write more.
Anyway. I just want to say thanks to all my reviewers. You're great. Also, sorry for any mistakes; I've been too anxious to wait for my beta to get back to me. If there are a lot, I'll repost this chapter.
~Amie