Wherein Harry learns disorientation spells, misuses them, learns true purpose of Fudge's news conference, hires a lawyer, gets his own chocolate frog card, is featured in the press, deals with an encounter between Shak and Uncle Vernon, learns about politics and goblin ceremonies, exchanges letters, gets new robes, is updated about Hermione, and has an Occlumency session with Dumbledore.
Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any other rights in the characters and other concepts created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money, nor do I seek any commercial advantage from this work. As such it constitutes "fair use" as defined in 17 U.S.C. §107.
Chapter 6 - Training
When the alarm clock sounded, Harry woke up and immediately knew that the Aural Pensieve had worked. This was brilliant! He knew all of the disorientation spells - both their proper phraseology and their proper wand movements. Exhilarated, he threw on some clothes for his early morning run with Dudley. As the two of them were warming up and stretching, Harry caught sight of one of Mrs. Figg's Kneazle cats, Mr. Tibbles, prowling amongst his aunt's begonias. He couldn't resist having a go with what he had learned.
"Vaproso," Harry cried, with a sweeping motion of his wand, as he caught the cat unawares. Mr. Tibbles took off across the lawn like the scalded cat he had just become.
"Occulus sinistrous," he called out, with a sharp jab and small rotation of his wand. The spell missed, and he tried again. Finally, on the third try, Mr. Tibbles abruptly veered sharply left, running headlong into a tree.
"Occulus dextrous," Harry shouted, employing a mirror image of the same wand movement. He missed again. A second try found the mark, and the unfortunate cat veered just as sharply to the right, now running directly at him.
As Harry leapt out of the way, he cast "Occulus reverso," and Mr. Tibbles drunkenly attempted to run backwards.
Rolling over on the grass, he came up firing with "Occulus inverso" - at which point the animal ceased running altogether, stumbled, and lay flat on his back with his legs kicking wildly in the air.
Finally, Harry said "Finite." Mr. Tibbles slunk sullenly away, glaring at him and yowling faintly.
His cousin goggled at the display. "What was that all about, Harry?"
"This is my first day of serious magical defence training, Dudders," chirped Harry, "and those are just a few of the disorientation spells that I learned overnight - in my sleep, can you believe it?"
"What are disorientation spells, and what good are they?" asked Dudley.
"I'm learning how to battle evil wizards and stuff like that," he replied as off-handedly as he could. "One way to turn a duel to my advantage is to disorient the enemy so he won't be able to hit me with his own curses. I can do that in all kinds of ways now. You just saw a few of them. First I made that cat think he was surrounded by hot steam. Then I changed his senses - first so he thought that his left side was in front. Then I changed the spell so the cat thought that what was to his right was in front. Then I had the cat confuse his back with his front; and finally I made the cat sense he was upside down when he really wasn't.
"I can also make an opponent feel like he is on fire, under water, can't breathe, has to pee, is nauseous, is dizzy, is itching all over, or is covered in slime - all sorts of things, ranging from merely distracting to very nasty. Most of them tend toward the nasty side. But I can even disorient an opponent with extreme pleasure… And that's just one day's lesson. I'll be mastering all sorts of magic over the summer."
"Extreme pleasure?" said Dudley with a naughty gleam in his eye. "That's one I'd like to try."
"Are you serious?" asked Harry, not sure if his cousin was taking the mickey out of him again.
"Guess so," replied Dudley more seriously. "I trust your ability after what I've seen over the last fortnight."
"OK, brace yourself. Here goes," warned Harry. "I've never done this one before, and all I know about its effects are from what a chatty pillow told me. Orgasimos!"
A bolt of pink light shot from Harry's wand and disappeared into Dudley's chest. For a couple of seconds, his cousin simply stood there, his eyes glazing over and his mouth starting to drool. Then his legs buckled and he crumpled onto the lawn, landing on his back. He just lay there twitching - almost like Mr. Tibbles had a short while earlier.
"Finite," incanted Harry. "Dudley, are you all right? You asked for it, you know."
"Bloody hell!" heaved Dudley. "Harry, that was the most fantastic feeling I've ever had in my life. It's totally the opposite of those Demeanor things. It's like my knob feels when I have a wank, but better - all over my body, inside and out. And it's even more than that, too. I also felt relaxed like when smoking ganja.... Er, you didn't hear that Harry."
"Hear what?" said Harry, nonplussed.
"Sort of a floating, totally relaxed sensation," enthused Dudley, running his hands over himself to damp down the tingling after effect. "Oh damn, it did that too. Now, I'm going to have to change my underwear."
"Must be sort of like the Imperius curse," muttered Harry to himself, not really listening to his cousin.
"Seriously, Harry, you could make good money with that one," effused Dudley. "Even at a fiver a minute, you'd put the kerb crawlers out of business in no time flat."
"To the great relief of street walkers everywhere, I'm afraid that would be an illegal use of magic," declared Harry, blanching at his cousin's suggestion. "I was probably stretching things just putting it on you, but you volunteered, and I do need the practice."
"I sure can see how that one would come in handy in a duel," his cousin observed. "I couldn't even stand on two feet whilst under it, let alone think about putting a hurting on anybody."
After their run, Harry changed into clean clothes and headed for Mrs. Figgs' house. When he arrived, he found her in a towering rage.
"What exactly did you do to Mister Tibbles?" she shrieked. "I'll have a devil of a time ever getting him to patrol around your house again, and even my other Kneazles are nervous."
"I'm sorry," apologised Harry, who had stupidly overlooked that Mrs. Figg must have been able to communicate with her cats, if she used them to patrol for Death Eaters and other threats to Harry. "It won't happen again. I just learned my first batch of spells for my Auror training - using an Aural Pensieve - and I wanted to see how well they actually worked. Mister Tibbles just happened to be the first target of opportunity."
"And he'd better be the last," retorted the squib. "Or I'll report you for violating the terms of your exemption from the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. Don't think that I won't, Mister famous Harry Potter."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" he shot back, rounding on Mrs. Figg.
"It means that you'd best not let who you are go to your head, sonny!" spat Mrs. Figg, her eyes flashing defiantly. "Just because you're called upon to save the world every few months doesn't give you the right to walk all over the rest of us. My Kneazles are up every night trying to make sure that you don't wake up dead at the hands of You Know Who and his followers. I won't stand for you abusing them like this."
Sensing that he was only digging himself in deeper, Harry reversed course and backed down entirely. "You're right. I just didn't think about what I was doing. I was too wrapped up in all the new stuff I'd learned and the new way I'd learnt it. I was being stupid."
Unappeased, Mrs. Figg shot back, "And if you were being stupid with a Death Eater...? I expect it would be the last thing you'd ever do."
A door slammed. Harry wheeled around and saw Bill Weasley striding towards him. "And you too, Arabella," he called out. "You left the front door wide open."
"I, at least, am not as foolish as I might look, Weasley," responded Mrs. Figg. She slapped her thigh with an open hand, making a distinctive pop. An instant later another of her Kneazle cats, a calico named Muggsy McGraw, had raced up the back of Bill's legs and torso and was perched on Bill's shoulder. Because Muggsy had made liberal use of her claws in the process, Bill gave a loud yelp and began to swat at her. Mrs. Figg slapped her thigh again, and Muggsy instantly jumped off.
"I should have known better than to trifle with you, Arabella...," sighed Bill. He turned towards his ward. "Harry, I know you're only fifteen, but you're learning adult magic. You have to act like an adult when using it. Random hexing of animals is irresponsible, particularly in a Muggle neighborhood."
"Anyway, we'd best be going," continued Bill. "Have you read today's Prophet?"
"Not yet," replied Harry, who had been taking unusual interest in the grass stains on his trainers. "Left the house too early for the post owl."
"Here," said Bill, tossing him a copy. "You can have mine. I daresay your clippings are more prominent - not to mention better - than Fudge's are today. I'll Disillusion you whilst you're reading."
Harry's breath caught in his throat, and not just from the feel of the Disillusionment charm. A full-page-width banner headline blared "POTTER, OTHERS, TO BE HISTORY'S YOUNGEST ORDER OF MERLIN WINNERS." A pair of colour photos of him, one from the conference itself, and the other (looking more shifty) with Fudge at the door to the Minister's office, appeared on either side of a lengthy article about the press conference. Below the fold was a front-page editorial entitled "War, Morale, and Harry Potter." Page two contained a verbatim transcript of the press conference, along with a bolded box providing conference "highlights" arranged by topic. There was also an article on the history of the Order of Merlin, and a smaller piece on Dumbledore's repeat award. On page three were a number of fluffier articles, one about Harry's use of Silencio on the press corps, another focused on Harry's "no girlfriend" comment, and a third about Sirius Black. There was no non-Harry news until a below-the-fold two column article on page four:
Minister Took Money From Death Eater, Transcript Says
Prosecutors investigating the eleven Death Eaters captured in the wake of the Potter Raid (see pages 1-3 for more details) released transcripts late yesterday of the Veritaserum-induced testimony of Lucius Malfoy, the most prominent of the eleven prisoners. In the transcripts, Mr. Malfoy recounts how a number of high-level Ministry personnel, including Minister of Magic Cornelius O. Fudge, were the beneficiaries of his financial largesse over the past five years or more.
Mr. Malfoy's testimony identifies at least a dozen occasions within the past six years on which he, or a Malfoy-controlled company, provided funds to Minister Fudge for what Mr. Malfoy understood to be the Minister's personal use. Several of these transactions were by cheque, and have been confirmed in the records of the relevant financial institutions. Other transactions have not yet been confirmed, as they involved gold. The total amount of money that changed hands is not known with exactitude, but Mr. Malfoy estimated that the figure "probably" exceeds 100,000 Galleons.
What, if anything, Minister Fudge did in return for all this money is not known. Prosecution sources state that Mr. Malfoy's mind was riddled with strong memory charms that could not ethically be broken, as doing so would threaten his precarious mental health. Another captured Death Eater, Adam Mulciber, is an Obliviator who, upon capture, wiped out his own entire memory with a powerful charm. Mulciber is now confined to the prison wing at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Minister Fudge's office released a written statement in response to the transcripts, admitting that "on several occasions the Minister received sums from Mr. Malfoy that the Minister understood were intended for charitable purposes." The Minister claims that he will "be able to verify with bank records that not a Knut of the funds so received went to [his] personal gain." Before his unmasking as a Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy was known as a large contributor to many charitable causes, including the Building Fund at St. Mungo's and the Alumni of Slytherin Society ("ASS").
Other high-ranking Ministry officials identified by Mr. Malfoy as recipients of his largesse include: Department/Office Heads, Francis Loincloth (Education); Dirk Cresswell (Goblin Liaison); Mafalda Hopkirk (Improper Use); Jacqueline Bouffant (Muggle Affairs); Congolia Samson (Mysteries); Ludo Bagman (Sports); and Malcolm Wheeler (Transportation). Samuel Murgatroyd, an Associate Warlock of the Wizengamot, was also named.
"You know what happened yesterday, don't you?" Bill asked in a low voice.
"I'm not sure," replied Harry through clenched teeth, "but I have my suspicions."
"Well, what do you think happened?" Bill hissed.
In a tone tinged with disgust, he answered, "I think that, by announcing the Order of Merlin awards and scheduling my press conference for yesterday, Fudge was able to reduce to a page-four story what would otherwise have been front-page news about his taking money from Death Eater Malfoy."
"Hermione Granger herself could not have put it more perceptively," said Bill. "Let's go."
That last comment certainly changed his focus. Now thoroughly distracted, Harry followed Bill meekly. With a mouthful of soot, he arrived at Auror Headquarters to begin his first full day as a trainee of the Auror Candidate School. Bill told him that he really wanted him to meet Blackie Howe face to face before hiring him, so his guardian intended to bring Blackie by when Harry was finishing up his training session.
Bill left Harry in the charge of Hugo Halliburton and Camille Wrexham, along with two additional instructors Harry had not encountered before: Betsy Greengrass and Andrew Carluke. Without any formalities, this time they went straight to work. From 7:30 a.m. until noon Harry was drilled on the basics - what the assigned spells did, pronunciation and proper wand technique, and any limitations or peculiarities of the spell. There was an hour off for lunch, and then Harry was ushered onto the wanding range for practical training and silent spell-casting.
In a development that surprised both Harry and his instructors, he proved to be much better in the classroom setting than in the practical situation on the range. Everyone thought it would be the reverse, since Harry came with a reputation as a natural.
"You just have to concentrate more on your aim, Harry," said Camille, "it's not that hard to hit a target. We haven't even put them in motion yet."
"I'm bloody well trying," protested Harry as he missed the target again, this time high and to the left. "I feel like I'm over-concentrating, with all these technique pointers I'm trying to remember."
"Try holding the wand straight out in front, this time, Harry. Maybe that will help you aim," encouraged Andrew.
"Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks," Harry repeated under his breath as he missed yet again. Then he made up his mind. "I do believe that I'm thinking too bloody much. I'm going to try it my way for a change. Am I allowed to move?"
"Move?" questioned Camille, "what exactly do you mean?"
"I mean, like ... like … moving...," Harry replied, reduced virtually to inarticularity by his frustration, "I'm a Quidditch player, and I think that standing still makes me worse"
"Nothing wrong with moving, if you like," said Andrew. "Whatever you think might help, give it a go."
He squared his shoulders and made ready to try again. Instead of standing still, Harry darted to his left. "Nauseo," he cried. Direct hit. He kept moving in that direction, and squeezed off three more quick curses. Three more direct hits resulted, even though the targets were not close to being in the same line of fire. Not stopping, Harry lurched to his right. "Tremoros," he roared, hitting the ground and rolling. Two more curses, two more hits.
Then he repeated the process silently - with similar results.
It developed that Harry, although scattershot when standing still or when spelling from a formal duelling position, was a natural when in motion. He scored 100% accuracy with vocalised spells. Acting silently, he hit 96 out of 100 stationary targets, and 92 out of 100 moving targets - both of which would have qualified him for a marksmanship medal had he been an actual Auror.
At 3:30, Harry's instructors moved him to the Situation Room, where Harry was to train against actual opponents, rather than inanimate objects. He did surprisingly well here, as well, although as time passed he grew upset that his opponents could conjure up shield charms when he could not. Since he was unable to defend himself properly, his opponents went easy on him (much to his disgust), using only harmless Placebus Spells rather than anything real. To Harry it seemed that he was being taunted as a rank amateur.
He became more and more frustrated until finally he got careless. On a dive to his left, he failed to look where he was standing, pushed off awkwardly, and twisted his ankle. The pain, combined with his rising anger, did something to the Flambus Hex he was casting. He heard a sound like an aluminium can being crushed. Harry looked up to see that the wizard playing his target had been flung to one side and that the padding on the back wall was still glowing where his hex had impacted. A whistle trilled, calling a halt to the proceedings.
"What in blazes was that?" called out Betsy, making her way towards the boy, who was still cursing and hopping about on one foot because of his bad ankle.
Limping to a halt, Harry explained, "Flambus Hex, but I turned my ankle just as I cast it - and I was really pissed off about that too, since I was being stupid and neglecting my footing. The pain, or being mad, or both, must have put something extra on that hex."
"Harry, sit down and let me heal your ankle," Camille instructed. She ran her wand over the painful extremity. His ankle glowed slightly yellow and felt instantly better. "You're only performing disorientation magic today. We start with that category for a reason. Disorientation spells are not intended to cause actual injury, and therefore these spells are not very powerful. But whatever you did not only crumpled at least half of Andrew's shield spell, but also knocked him out of the way, and then still hit the wall padding with enough power to cause it to glow red. It's make believe fire, Harry, but you caused it to generate very real heat." She called to Andrew, who was still looking askance at the padding where the wayward hex had hit. "Is it still hot?"
"Umm … ouch!" Carluke fluttered his affected hand rapidly. "Well I'll be blowed. It's stopped glowing, but it's still too hot to touch for more than an instant."
"I don't know how you did it," huffed Camille, "but that Flambus packed more punch than any disorientation spell I've ever seen. And on that note, I think this is a good time to wrap things up here and call it a day. Hugo, can you take Harry to the showers and get him tidied up? I've got to write up a report on this, but the rest of you can then spend about fifteen minutes going over Thursday's assignment on shielding magic…."
Bill showed up at the stroke of 5:00 p.m. with Blackie Howe in tow. Howe had come straight from the office and was still in pinstriped grey dress robes. They had no trouble commandeering an empty conference room for a chat. Their talk went quite splendidly and stretched to half an hour. The D'Israeli, Braddock firm, it turned out, was one of the most prestigious Magic Circle legal firms in the entire City (and thus, in Britain). Unlike most of the Magic Circle, D'Israeli counted numerous wizards amongst its clientele. Howe was part of the solicitors' chamber, but the firm was full service. It had many associated barristers as well.
The founder, Benjamin D'Israeli, a Ravenclaw, had been an abolitionist as a young man before 1833, when slavery was ended throughout the Empire. He then became the principal signatory on the magical side of the Wizarding Equality Treaty of 1836 (Harry also learned that the original, as-executed wizard draft of that Treaty was on display at Hogwarts). Following that D'Israeli went on to a successful career in both Muggle and magical politics. He achieved the singular distinction of serving simultaneously as Muggle Prime Minister and Minister of Magic. In 1881, at age 77, he became the first Jew to be buried amongst the notables at Westminster Abbey. That had been a magical deception engineered for the Muggles' benefit. Thereafter, he had gone on to practice exclusively wizard law for another 42 years.
Howe charged 75 Galleons per hour. Bill, familiar with the size of Harry's Gringotts account, assured Harry that there was enough there to pay for Howe's services many times over. Harry willingly signed an engagement letter, and took one of Howe's business cards. To conform to Ministry-recommended security practices - and to prevent any problems with imposters - they decided to exchange a piece of secret information. Following some hemming and hawing, they settled upon the Shangri-La Hotel in Hong Kong. Nobody else in the world (except Dumbledore) knew that Harry had any familiarity with the place. Howe, on the other hand, had been a guest there several times.
Harry promised to owl the Cadbury letter to Howe immediately upon returning home. Learning that his new client was mostly owl-dependent, Howe advised him that he should get a Muggle fax machine, a mobile, and a PDA. Howe had been doing deals for almost 25 years. He thought it inconceivable that Cadbury's would decline to sweeten the pot substantially beyond the initial offer in the letter. After all, adding Harry's likeness to its product line would be a coup of the first order.
Harry returned home in a good mood (for him), but still somewhat on edge. That edge promptly disappeared when he found the light on the communicator illuminated. Quickly activating the machine, Harry could hardly wait to read Dumbledore's message:
Dear Mr. Potter:
I have learned from your guardian that you are interested in the Cadbury's offer because you wish to open a Muggle bank account straight away. I have acquiesced because it is now certain that you will not have occasion to use it for questionable purposes - such as purchasing aeroplane tickets on Cathay-Pacific.
I am pleased, and relieved, to report that I have reached agreement with the Grangers for their daughter Hermione to return to Hogwarts. Mr. Granger finally consented after I agreed to arrange for the warding of both his home and the dental surgeries that he and his wife maintain. He also insisted upon meeting you, in person, at his home. Given my understanding of your position, I acceded to that upon your behalf.
I will discuss details with you upon my return.
I am also aware of your recent press conference. We will discuss that as well.
Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock Wizengamot
"Yes!" Harry whooped, dancing a little jig in his room. That drew a shout up the stairs from his uncle to stop "making a bloody racket," but he hardly cared. Hermione was coming back!
After a spot of bouncing off the walls, he noticed that there was also some post for him, an envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest. It was not thick enough to be official notification of O.W.L. results - top formers had told him that the O.W.L. letters were quite bulky because they included the entire sixth-year curriculum in addition to the O.W.L. report itself. The curious letter was from Professor McGonagall. She informed Harry that his testimony was indeed required in the Ministry's investigation into Dolores Umbridge.
He was to testify at 10:30 a.m. on Wednesday, 8 July, in the Ministry building. The prosecuting barrister for the Ministry was very interested in his information and wished to meet with him prior to the questioning. Professor McGonagall therefore directed Harry to be at Mrs. Figg's house "promptly" at 7:00 a.m. There would be a meeting that morning in her office at Hogwarts.
For his morning runs, Harry was working his way through Dudley's classic rock CD collection. He rather liked Marley and The Clash. After listening to a few Stones and Who discs, Harry thought that they tended to sound alike, although he did not mean that as necessarily a bad thing. His cousin, however, was quite partial to the harder rock, and did not appreciate that observation. Dudley told Harry that he was free to try any of "that fluffy stuff my Mum bought me" - primarily meaning the Beatles.
Harry had no idea what he was doing, so he started with what he thought was the most curious looking cover of the lot (it resembled a cartoon). For about ten minutes into that morning's run, Dudley had no idea that anything was up. Then Harry suddenly picked up his pace and threatened to leave his cousin in the lurch. Dudley sped up, but for the first time found that he was having trouble keeping up with the increasingly well-conditioned (and much more svelte) Harry. The young wizard breezed along apparently effortlessly for what seemed to his cousin like forever - it was actually a shade over six minutes - before Harry realised how fast he was going and stopped to wait for his puffing cousin.
"Bloody hell, Harry," panted Dudley, "what did you do that for - and since when have you been able to run faster than me?"
"I like this music a lot. Can I have this one?" Harry asked.
"Tell you what," offered Dudley. "I don't bother with those Beatles at all - too soft and mushy for me. You can keep the lot of them if you'll do that pleasure spell on me again."
Harry considered the offer. "If you'll throw in this player, I'll do it."
"For the player, I want another spell," Dudley replied coolly.
"Deal," said Harry, after a brief pause. "Two spells, then. Just pick a convenient time and place."
That had been easy enough. Harry was still in a good mood after the news about Hermione. He could practically feel himself getting physically stronger. He could hardly wait to play Quidditch again - or for the next time Malfoy insulted him.
Harry's good moods usually did not last very long, and this was no exception. Ever since Tonks' disastrous visit, he wondered whom the Order might send to the Dursleys to check up on him the next time. Anyone except Lupin (it was a full moon) was a possibility. He could only hope that his next visitor knew how to present him or herself as a respectable Muggle. Unfortunately - for all concerned - he certainly did.
Harry had just finished his shower and was absently mindedly perusing today's Prophet. There was more on him and the Order of Merlin ("boring and repetitious," he thought). Also on page one was Samuel Murgatroyd's resignation from the Wizengamot (`Fudge should go, too,' thought Harry). He found an article speculating on the identities of "Potter's Marauders," as the group of six was coming to be known. That produced derisive laughter. "Cho Chang and Colin Creevey? Give me a break," Harry snorted. He did duly note the accurate mentions of Ron, Hermione, and Neville.
A follow-up article recited the exact Galleon figures on Fudge's "bribes." `Someone should really call for his resignation,' Harry thought. There was more Harry-related speculation - on how he was spending his summer. "I wish," sighed Harry in response to a breathless "exclusive" that reported how he had been spirited away to Tahiti. The Quidditch friendship tour was reported to be leaving China for Japan. `I ought to owl Ron and Ginny,' Harry thought.
The most bizarre news was that Playwitch Magazine had made a very public offer of 100,000 Galleons for a full-monte nude shot of "the Chosen One." "Bloody Hell!" Harry exclaimed. He made a mental note to be sure not to leave this copy lying around where his relatives might find it. Uncle Vernon was just greedy enough.... The sounding of the doorbell interrupted him whilst he was on his way towards a very good rant.
Having learned to anticipate the worst from Order visits, he bolted for the door. Arriving a split second after Uncle Vernon (who had deliberately stayed home late from work at Grunnings) answered the door, Harry saw Kingsley Shacklebolt looking absolutely stonking in a summer-weight three-piece silk suit, off-white with wide brown pinstripes. He wore cufflinks and a stick pin. A gold Rolex shimmered on his left wrist. Shak was holding a tan felt fedora with a wide black band, and Harry thought that he rather resembled a Muggle TV gangster. His ease with Muggle attire rivaled - no, surpassed - the late Bartemius Crouch, Sr. (whom Harry previously counted as the sharpest Muggle dresser among wizards), but Shak's snappy style was several decades more current.
Vernon Dursley, however, cared about nothing except the deep brown colour of Shak's skin. "That ruddy Dumbledore! Who does he think he is? Having a BLOODY N****R come to my stoop! The neighbors will think we're selling out! We'll never live it down...."
Then the invective abruptly stopped.
Nary a sound more escaped Uncle Vernon's throat. His eyes were almost popping out of his purpling face as he abruptly shifted his glare from Shak to his equally enraged nephew. Harry had his hand out, but was not clutching a wand. Harry's own mouth was curling up into an intense sneer, and his complexion was dark with anger. His eyes narrow, he hissed, "Stuff it Dursley. You aren't fit to lick the dirt from this man's shoes." As Harry spoke, his uncle gradually rose about a half metre off the floor and, suspended in mid air, shook like a rag doll with every syllable the boy enunciated.
Shak whipped his black shades off, and began yelling at the top of his lungs. "Stop, Harry!! For Merlin's sake, stop before you ruin everything we're trying to achieve!" Flinging his hat aside, Shak flicked out his own wand from a wrist holster and prepared to stun Harry to prevent him from magically strangling his uncle. "There's more at stake than you could possibly know."
Harry heard, and broke his anger-induced trance. His uncle slid back down to the floor. When Uncle Vernon's feet touched ground, he kept on going until he was half sitting, half lying in the parlour. From there, he glanced up at Harry with a mixture of fear and rage on his face. Harry's Aunt Petunia, who had hastily shut the front door, regarded Harry with the same fear in her eyes, but otherwise more in awe than in anger. Dudley's emotions, as he watched from the bottom of the stairs, were impossible to read.
Shak lowered his wand. "Harry, I know you did that for me, but the stakes are so high that it just isn't worth it. You can't risk revocation of your underage magic rights and the cessation of your training - and while I hate to be a pain about it, it would be especially inconvenient for you to seriously violate the law in my presence. I hope that someday you might be my partner, not my pinch."
The air went out of the boy's rage like a balloon riddled by buckshot. "What a spot of bother that was," he grunted. Taking a deep breath, he asked rhetorically, "I really went off on him, didn't I?"
"Indeed you did," chided Shak, secretly relieved that he had avoided a duel with someone whose power, if not experience, exceeded his.
"Shak, what did you mean, `there's more at stake replied than I could possibly know'?" asked Harry cautiously.
"Upstairs," commanded the Auror captain.
After Shak placed a silencing charm on the door to Harry's room, he turned to the boy in frustration. "You just won't let me keep my secrets, will you?"
"I'm tired of people keeping secrets from me," replied Harry's determined voice. "Spill it, Shak."
"All right, but this does not leave this room - understand?" said Shacklebolt in a stage whisper."
"Got it," agreed Harry.
"I can't have you making things go balls up in my presence because it would be politically unsound, both for you and for me," Shak hissed. "For me, it's because I'm on the Order's short list for the Minister of Magic candidature should Fudge's government fall. For you, it's because no matter what you do, you will be a political issue in any such campaign."
"Oh bother. Why in blazes should I be a political issue?" complained Harry.
Shak practically shook with exasperation. "Harry, you still don't grasp your standing in our community. Even the Muggle authorities are interested in you now - to the P.M.'s office and even beyond. More importantly, half the magicals in Britain would do anything you say. Right now, if you called for a vote of no confidence in Fudge, his government would fall before the day is out. Either I or Arthur Weasley would then run as the Order's candidate. I think Arthur should because he's better known, but he says he's too old and doesn't have the resources."
"You need to keep your head down, your nose clean, and your powder dry, Harry," Shak continued. "That's why we were so upset about the news conference. Fudge is trying to use you politically, so you need to keep a respectful distance. But you mustn't break publicly with him unless and until Dumbledore gives the word. That's why you must see Dumbledore about this. He alone knows all the arrangements he's made with Fudge since 11-12 June. It's his call, and his only, whether Fudge has held up his end. Break with Fudge too soon, and the Minister will sully you just like last year. Because of my potential candidature, I can't be seen as advising you what to do because … because it wouldn't look good - a conflict of interest for an active-duty Auror."
"With Voldemort out there, we want to avoid the disunity of a no-confidence vote in the Wizard Council if at all possible. But after the revelation that Fudge has been taking Death Eater money, the political situation may spin out of control at any time. The Order has therefore asked me to position myself for a possible run. I'm staying on long enough to supervise your training, but at the end of the summer, I will be resigning from state's service as an Auror. From there, I'll be assuming a temporary position from which I could toss my hat into the ring in short order, should the need arise."
"That's a bad job," observed Harry. "I hate to think that the Ministry is going to lose a top-drawer Auror to political manœuvering."
"True, but sometimes things can't be helped," sighed Shak. "But look on the bright side. It means that you will be gaining a top-drawer Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."
Harry suddenly broke into a wide grin at the unexpected news. "You're coming to Hogwarts?!" he bubbled. "That's the best thing I've heard.... Well ... well…. Since yesterday, anyway."
"I'm relieved she's coming back, too - and thank you…. But remember," cautioned Shak, "I've now told you everything that I wanted to leave to Dumbledore. Not a word, to anybody - and that specifically includes both red- and bushy-haired anybodies. This conversation did not exist. Now you wait here and don't do anything except act normally. I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?" asked Harry.
"Dursley hunting," Shak grinned. "Obliviating is one of my better skills. The Dursleys are not going to remember what you just did to your Uncle Vernon - but rest assured Harry, I'll never forget it." Shak Disillusioned himself and headed for the door.
"Right," said Harry, grinning evilly himself. He appreciated how skilled Shak was. Little more than six weeks ago Shak had done Harry the favor of Obliviating a traitorous member of Harry's unauthorised Defence Against the Dark Arts group, Dumbledore's Army. Shak had done it silently, in a room full of people, but nobody (except Harry and probably Dumbledore) had known what had happened. "Happy hunting," he mouthed.
Shak was gone for less than ten minutes. "It's all one big, happy family again," he reported. "I even gave them a cover story for the neighbours, that Uncle Vernon's business is booming and he's interviewing possible chauffeurs. I want you to know that I really appreciate what you did, Harry, even though I would have stunned you if you hadn't stopped. I'm 43 years old and no white man has ever come to my defence in that kind of situation before - and there have been more of those incidents than I care to remember."
"You ... You're w-w-welcome," Harry stammered. He thought Shak would make a fabulous Minister of Magic.
Having confirmed that Harry was not being mistreated by his relatives (and vice versa), Shak was soon on his way. Harry went to the gym with Dudley for another session with Lao Kung - who sensed anger in Harry. The Sefu proceeded to work the anger out of him through strenuous physical training. The boy was becoming more proficient at clearing his mind and with minor feats of wandless magic. He chose not to discuss his major - unplanned - feat of wandless magic with Lao Kung, even though it had occurred less than two hours earlier.
Harry returned home in the late afternoon to find a thoroughly disgusted Aunt Petunia. "Go upstairs and tidy up your room, boy," she ordered.
In his room he found no fewer than six post owls waiting to make their deliveries. He recognised only one, Ron's tiny Pigwidgeon. After relieving the owls of their loads - and seriously depleting his own stock of owl treats (`I'll have to get more at the Ministry,' Harry made a mental note), Harry sat down to read his mail. There was correspondence from Ron, Neville, and Luna. His two male friends both seemed to think that he had something to do with the rest of them getting the Order of Merlin, and they thanked him profusely.
Ron said it was the first good thing that had happened to him that none of his brothers had already accomplished. Neville said it was the first time he could remember his grandmother really being proud of him about anything (usually she told Neville that he didn't measure up to his institutionalised parents). But whilst Neville had done his gran proud, he had also frightened her out of her wits. She was refusing to replace the wand Neville had broken at the Ministry until the summer holidays were over. Neville complained that he stuck with Herbology lessons until she eventually came around.
Ron's letter, after mentioning that Ginny was still refusing to talk about Harry at all ("she treats you as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named"), contained a most interesting paragraph about someone else's reaction to the news:
Cho's acting strange too, but in a good way I think. She keeps congratulating me, wanting to talk to me, and everything. She's not like you described - no crying at all. Are you sure you're over her, mate? I'd like your blessing before I let anything happen. I'd do the same for you any time if I were in your position.
He laughed out loud. Ron and Cho? He could scarcely see what they had in common with each other except for Quidditch. But who knows? Maybe that was enough - especially with both of them at a Quidditch holiday camp. Ron was clearly into Quidditch in a big way now that he had stopped being such a prat at keeper….
And what about Cho? He mulled it over. He felt he had given her his best (none too good) shot, and now any relationship (if you could call it that) that he had with Cho was over and done with. Ron was welcome to her, if that was what they both wanted. Harry wrote back a short note to Ron, jocularly giving him his "assent." He also mentioned that he would keep Ron's "promise to do the same" in mind - he thought he knew what Ron was insinuating. He could always hope….
Luna's letter was passing strange, in keeping with the girl herself. She had written just two short sentences. "Please understand that I do not blame you for any of this. Be careful." Harry was confused. Everybody else he knew in the wizarding world was pounding him on the back in congratulations and expressing gratitude. But Luna appeared simply to be withholding blame. What did she think that nobody else did? Harry could not be certain if that odd duck of a girl was even going to accept the award.
There was also an unexpected letter from Fleur Delacour, apparently written on her little sister Gabrielle's behalf, inviting him to visit the Delacour estate in Guyenne (which Harry assumed was somewhere in France). Gabrielle was ten now, and like everybody else, it seemed, she viewed Harry as a hero. Unlike (almost) everybody else, Gabrielle had been personally rescued by him - and evidently knew how to contact him. Harry decided not to respond to this letter. He did not want to encourage Gabrielle to become another Ginny Weasley. Harry shuddered, remembering how Ginny's crush on him had led to the both of them almost getting killed in his Second Year.
The remaining two letters perplexed him even more. They were from wizard children he didn't even know - a Jennifer Fontaine from Liverpool and a Jonathan Swanage from Somerset. These letters had simply been addressed to "Harry Potter, Living with Muggles, England." Neither writer could have been more than eight. They sent short scrawled notes expressing admiration. One of them included a crayon picture of Harry blasting Voldemort with a wand.
These letters reminded Harry of snatches of stories he had picked up from Muggle television when he was little, about children addressing letters to Santa Claus at the "North Pole." Was he now an iconic figure in the wizarding world equivalent to Santa Claus for Muggles? He quickly banished the thought. But nevertheless he wrote short notes back to both of them - telling them to study hard and one day they might become Aurors and fight Death Eaters themselves. It was a morale thing, Harry decided.
After an early dinner, he went to Mrs. Figg's expecting to meet Dumbledore for his first Occlumency session. Instead he found himself face to face with Bill Weasley, who was present to escort Harry to Hogwarts. As requested, Bill had acquired a Firebolt to send to Ginny. Harry wrote a note that apologised for ignoring her ("I was being a self-centered prat again"), and off the present went - tied between two specially engaged albatrosses for the long over-water trip to Denmark.
Bill also produced a Cadbury's contract for Harry to sign. Just as Blackie Howe had postulated, Cadbury's had been willing to pay considerably more than its opening offer for the right to market a Harry Potter chocolate frog card. He was to receive 2500 Galleons per year, a 3 1/2-times improvement over Cadbury's 700-Galleon initial proposal. Bill and Blackie had also made sure that the contract was exclusive only as to confections, preserving for him the option of making other endorsements (Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes came to mind) should Harry so choose. The first year's fee was to be payable immediately upon Cadbury's receipt of a signed contract.
With Dumbledore's approval, the Cadbury's contract provided for payment in Muggle pounds - over 12,500 of them - directly into a customer account established at the Bank of England. Harry was puzzled when Bill handed him a gun-metal-grey piece of plastic with the Queen's picture on it.
"What's this for?" Harry asked.
"It's a debit swipe card for your new bank account," Bill explained. "Almost every merchant, Muggle or wizard, will accept this card instead of bank notes. It's a lot less bulky, and with the Bank of England name on it, it establishes at once that you're a person of consequence - someone with whom anyone would be chuffed to do business. You can also order practically anything mail order with it over the Internet."
Harry was confused, "All with one piece of plastic?"
"It's not just plastic," Bill explained. "The Bank of England is the Queen's own Bank, established almost 500 years ago with the first Queen Elizabeth's share of the booty from Sir Francis Drake's raids...."
"Who's that?" Harry asked. The name was vaguely familiar.
"She was Queen of England during the Armada," Bill deadpanned.
"Not the ruddy queen," Harry growled. "The other bloke. I'm not a total prat…."
"But face it, you have potential," Bill replied with a snigger.
"You seem to have achieved your potential," Harry shot back.
"Drake was a pirate backed by Her Majesty's government," recounted Bill," but that's not important. What's important is that the Bank of England doesn't accept just anyone as an account holder. Actually, your account is rather small by BOE standards. But Gringotts has longstanding arrangements with the Bank of England, and the goblins used their influence to get you in, Harry."
"Why would goblins do that for me?" asked Harry skeptically.
"Dumbledore will be telling you more about that tonight," said Bill, "which is one reason we've got to get a move on. Sign the contract, and I'll see to it that your account is filled tomorrow. You'll never want for gold again, I daresay."
Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Bill escorted Harry to the Room of Requirement and took his leave. Dumbledore was there, but not as he had ever seen the Headmaster before. Dumbledore was dressed in silver-sparked glittering robes that left light trails behind him as he walked. He had his hair and beard completely down, and they reached nearly to the floor.
"These are the dress robes of the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards," Dumbledore explained to the unabashedly gawking Harry. "The goblin ceremony on the eighteenth is going to be rather more than I anticipated. The goblins wish to hold a full Ashrak, which is sort of a combined treaty-signing and bonding ceremony. Since it is you, more than me, whom the goblins want, you will also need formal robes for the Ashrak."
Harry shook his head. "I can't see myself wearing anything like that," he said, gesturing at Dumbledore's finery.
"Nor could you," responded the Headmaster, "since our sumptuary laws forbid it. As I said, these are a Supreme Mugwump's dress robes. However, the question of what you should wear is more knotty than you might think. By your formal status, you are only entitled to wear the dress robes of a student of Gryffindor House, as you will to your graduation ceremony. But mere student dress robes are woefully insufficient for the protocol of this event."
"How so?" asked Harry. "I'm proud of being in Gryffindor."
"A goblin Ashrak is ordinarily a meeting of heads of state, and given that you will be the Ashrakadan, you need to project more status than a mere student. But I believe I have solved the problem. You may wear the dress robes of a Knight of the Realm, since there are no ex officio requirements to be a Knight, and you are fated, by both prophecy and temperament, to be a warrior. In recognition of your past accomplishments, you can also wear the sword of Godric Gryffindor."
"That sounds way cool," said the boy with a grin, "but what do I do as an Ashrakadan?"
"You are the star of the show, so to speak," replied Dumbledore. "You are giving your word to support the goblins' demand for full legal equality with wizards. The goblins view this in the same light as a formal treaty. There have been two such treaties in the past - as you would have known had you paid attention in History of Magic class." With this mention of Harry's most notable academic failing, the Headmaster gave Harry a piercing you-could-have-done-better look over his half moon glasses.
"The first was the Great Treaty of 1648 that ended the Goblin Rebellions in Britain, and the second was the Regularisation Treaty of 1844, which established the current relationship between our two communities. The goblins look upon this second treaty as an unequal one because they had very little choice but to settle for whatever terms were offered after their community was ravaged by Doxylaria. They are particularly concerned about the clause in that treaty which allows a 75% vote of the wizard shares in Gringotts to divest them of their control over the bank. Since Gringotts is far and away the largest outside employer of goblins, that clause is a constant threat of economic ruin."
"When the goblins sign treaties with wizards, the wizard signatory - you in this case - is required to become an Ashrakadan, which subjects you to goblin law. That way the goblins satisfy themselves that a binding commitment has been made. The position is also a great honour, however. With the responsibility of an Ashrakadan come a number of rights, the most important of which is the expectation of Vladaskat, by which the goblins agree to support you in battle. What that means to the current war," Dumbledore paused for emphasis, "is that in any joint combat operation against the Dark Forces, you have the right to command the goblin army if you are present."
"I'm no general," murmured Harry. "I don't know the first thing about commanding anybody."
"Well, there is no requirement that you be present for battle," smiled Dumbledore, "but I would not sell your abilities short either. After all, you have created - and commanded - one army already."
"Yeah, right," spat Harry. "An army that was routed by one toadlike teacher."
"And an army that ultimately drove that teacher away, held off a dozen Death Eaters, exposed Voldemort's return and, I might add, left several students in an awful state on the Hogwarts Express a few weeks ago," chuckled Dumbledore.
"Anyway, enough talk," said the Headmaster in a more serious tone as he strode to the fireplace. In an instant a fire was crackling, and Dumbledore called for Madame Malkin, who owned the largest robe shop in Hogsmeade. Obviously she had been forewarned, because she arrived with the necessary fabric - silver-blue Damascus steel mail bewitched to feather lightness for the formal vestments, and deep purple velvet for a long outer cape. When Madame Malkin was finished sizing the robes, she muttered an incantation that Harry could not hear and a pattern of red lacquered links appeared in the mail across Harry's chest. It now bore the red and yellow heraldic pattern of three St. George dragons.
"Very impressive, Mister Potter," mused Dumbledore when Madame Malkin was finished. "With Godric's sword strapped at your side, you will look every bit the substantial figure needed to fill the role of Ashrakadan. Make sure that the sleeves are cut quite loose Matilde."
"Why loose?" asked Harry warily.
"Unless I am badly mistaken - and I rarely am in these matters - you will receive the goblin Tladimax, the symbol of goblin citizenship, on both of your forearms during the ceremony...."
Harry grimaced at the thought.
"Worry not," soothed Dumbledore, seeing the apprehensive look on the boy's face. "While they use a knife, it is charmed so that the incision causes no pain, is instantly healed, and the resulting scar is visible only to goblins, whose eyesight is somewhat different than our own."
After they were done with the robes - Harry insisted on paying for them himself, using the swipe card - Dumbledore began their initial Occlumency programme. The Headmaster was surprised, and not at all pleased, when he learned that Professor Snape had not conducted any assessment of Harry's mind before engaging in serious attacks.
"So, you are telling me that Professor Snape conducted no assessment at all before beginning?" the Headmaster confirmed.
"None that I knew of … the bloody berk," Harry replied.
"Please Mister Potter, language," Dumbledore remonstrated. "He is, after all a tenured professor at this school."
"That doesn't mean he's not a bloody berk," Harry maintained. "Why did you let him do it?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Because of the limited amount of free time available to you during your O.W.L. year, I did not think it manageable for you to learn Occlumency generally. All I wanted was for you to become sufficiently proficient to prevent Voldemort from conducting hostile penetration through the mental link that the two of you share. Not only was the Professor an accomplished Occlumens, but he was more familiar with Voldemort and his techniques than anyone here. Thus I selected Professor Snape."
"What did you tell him to do?" Harry asked sceptically.
"Unfortunately, I gave him no explicit instructions, other than the need to repel Voldemort," the Headmaster confessed. "I left it to his discretion, which he apparently abused."
Harry said nothing, so Dumbledore continued with his explanation.
"In order to teach you to defend a particular portion of your mind, Professor Snape should have first assessed the nature of the link, or links, that connect you to Voldemort. Defensive Occlumency without a mental assessment is rather like driving at night without headlamps - only worse - because it required you to stretch your defenses unnecessarily thin, covering mental territory that should not have been subject to invasion."
Cautiously - because he remembered the Incandens charm that the boy had generated the last time he had used Legilimency on him - Dumbledore requested and received permission to enter Harry's mind in order to examine the link to Voldemort. The Headmaster promised to use only pleasant memories to gain access, specifically mentioning the conversation in which Hagrid had first told the boy that he was a wizard. Harry agreed and soon felt the now-familiar prickling sensation in his mind. This time, however, it was pleasant, as he saw images of Hagrid breaking down the door of the Dursleys' hideaway, twisting his uncle's shotgun into a knot, giving Dudley a pig's tail.... After what seemed like a long time, but was really just a few minutes, Dumbledore exited.
"Very interesting," he said mostly to himself. "Very interesting indeed."
"I always thought that you knew Hagrid kept bits of his wand in that pink umbrella he carried." Harry suggested.
"No," said Dumbledore softly, "I was referring to the state of your mind."
"What about it?" he responded curiously and somewhat apprehensively. "You located the link with Voldemort didn't you?"
"Oh yes, it certainly took no great skill to locate that link, although it is somewhat different from what I expected to find. It was powerful, judging by its size, and either very old, very frequently used or both, judging by the lack of frayed edges. I could not even examine all of it, since you seem to have part of it walled off with something. But even from the portion I could reconnoiter, I am afraid that although the Voldemort link can be defended against, it cannot be permanently shut down by your own unilateral action, no matter how skilled in Occlumency you become. The link that the failed Avada kedavra curse created between your mind and Voldemort's is so strong that you cannot cut it without his assent."
"But there was more," observed the Headmaster, "and that is where the surprise truly lies. There is a second link - much fainter and much more recent. It is so faint I doubt you have the power to use it at all. It seems to be a one-way link, but very tenuous. I doubt that whoever is on the other side can sense more than general emotions."
"You said `whoever,'" replied Harry, focusing on the most important issue. "Does that mean you don't know who I'm linked to?"
"That is correct, Harry," answered Dumbledore. "It is simply too weak and diffuse for me to follow it back to the source. Do you have any idea who else, other than Voldemort, might be linked to you?"
"I haven't a clue," Harry lied, thinking back to his discussion of affinities at the Ministry. "But I've a couple of questions that I've been meaning to ask you before I go home tonight. I want to ask them now before I forget."
"As you wish," sighed Dumbledore.
"Somebody from the Department of Mysteries asked me to wear something whilst I had my Auror power test..., something to measure my `output and conductivity.' Why?"
"That question I cannot answer at this time, Harry," said Dumbledore with an unreadable expression on his face.
Harry frowned. "Then let's try something else. What's up with Hermione?" he asked. "I've heard from everyone else whose going to receive the Order of Merlin, but not a word from her since the letter by Muggle post."
"Things are delicate right now...," started Dumbledore, but seeing - and indeed feeling - Harry's furious glare, Dumbledore hastened to add, "but there is no change in her status, she is definitely coming back."
"Can't you just tell me honestly, what is going on?" demanded Harry.
"All right, but please listen," began Dumbledore. "The Minister surprised everyone with the Order of Merlin announcement. I had agreed to the concept, but he timed it for his own purposes...."
"Shak says he did it to reduce the impact of the news that he had been bribed by Lucius Malfoy," Harry said flatly. "That's why the Aurors and Mister Weasley were all so aggravated right afterwards."
"And Minister Fudge succeeded," admitted Dumbledore. "Many in the Order believe that he violated an agreement he made not to involve you in petty politics. Given what you are fated to do, the Order felt, and feels, that to involve you in such politics would be an unnecessary and unwise distraction. You should not have to second-guess your instincts by worrying about possible political consequences of your actions. You have more than enough on your plate."
"All right, I understand that I shouldn't bother with politics," said Harry getting a little frustrated, "but I must be thick. What does all this have to do with Hermione?"
"I shall get to that, but first I must clear up a misconception," answered Dumbledore. "I said for you to avoid petty politics, not all politics. By virtue of what you have done, and even more by what you are fated to do, you are inevitably a figure of political consequence. That is why you are an Ashrakadan, for example. What is imperative is that the powerful political symbol you represent not be sullied by the machinations of petty politics - speeches, endorsements, press conferences and the like. Your purpose is to unify, not to divide. That is what the Order attempted to impress upon the Minister when he finally accepted that Voldemort had returned."
"But now to answer your question about Miss Granger," said Dumbledore, turning around to face Harry directly. "Matters are delicate for two reasons. First, as a consequence of your both having been struck seriatim by the Dark Fire curse, her more seriously than you were, we believe that you and Miss Granger share an affinity that allows her to sense your emotions. I essentially confirmed that a short while ago."
"But, but, but, then why did you ask me?" stammered a very surprised Harry.
"To see if you would be as honest with me, as you were asking me to be with you," responded Dumbledore, giving the boy another piercing look. "Frankly, Mister Potter, you are such a very poor liar that you could be in significant danger if you found yourself in a situation that required you to dissemble."
"I'm sorry...," mumbled Harry miserably.
"Don't be, it was a personal subject," replied Dumbledore. "I expect people not to be willing to tell the truth about such things. But, in light of her parents' actions, we have thought it best not to inform Miss Granger of this affinity until she is back amongst us. I would not be surprised if she has self-diagnosed, however. Mental affinities can be closed if both sides agree, so I need to know if you want me to sever that connection when the time comes."
Harry was perplexed - badly conflicted. On the one hand, having somebody you knew well being able to sense your emotions was potentially rather embarrassing. On the other hand, this was Hermione, and the idea that there was a mental, emotional link between them did not upset Harry in the least. On the contrary, he found the idea of such mental closeness surprisingly satisfying. "Do I have to decide right now? I'd rather talk to her about it first, to find out how she feels."
"Of course," said Dumbledore. "However, the affinity complicates matters at present because it brings her closer to you, and her parents are quite of two minds about you at present. Whilst they think that you protect her, they also believe, with reason, that you endanger her. Revealing such an unusual emotional link between yourselves to Mister and Mrs. Granger at this time might cause them to reconsider her return. Therefore, Mister Potter, you must not have any contact with Miss Granger until I inform you it is appropriate."
Harry gulped, "I, I, I understand, sir," was all he said, but he was careful neither to agree nor disagree with the Headmaster's command.
"Now the second reason things are very delicate is the Minister's premature announcement of the Order of Merlin awards. As you know, that decoration is awarded only for conspicuous valor in battle under life-threatening circumstances. As distinguished as the award is, you can see, I'm sure, why it would be counterproductive to emphasize just how much danger Miss Granger was actually in at the Ministry before she is back from Hong Kong. Therefore I have decided that it is best for there to be no further contact between anyone in the wizarding world and the Grangers until they are all safely back in England. I do not want them to find this out until I have them committed fully to her return. Therefore, Mister Potter, you need not feel that you are in any worse position than anyone else."
"When will she be back, then?" asked Harry.
"If all goes well, quite soon," answered the Headmaster. "That is all I can say right now. But lest you worry excessively, please be aware that I recently had an idea how to facilitate matters. You may rest assured that I shall not let this situation drag on."
Then Dumbledore changed the subject. "But the purpose of our being here tonight is to have an Occlumency session, and that is what we are going to do. Do I understand correctly from Sefu Kung that through meditation you have largely mastered the art of clearing your mind?"
"I've gotten pretty good at it, yes," said Harry, thinking that the word "master" was overstating things.
Dumbledore promptly put the boy through his paces. He quickly ascertained that Harry could clear his mind well enough that he could learn nothing through ordinary Legilimency. Dumbledore therefore decided to move on to the next step.
"Mister Potter, I want you to think of the most mind-numbingly boring activity that you can imagine," Dumbledore asked.
"What good is that?" Harry responded - surprised but interested.
"You see," Dumbledore explained, "when Voldemort or anyone else attempting to break into your mind encounters total blankness, as I just did, he knows that he is being resisted. He may leave, since he has been detected, but he may think that he is being obstructed because something important is afoot, in which case he may try harder to break in. If, however, he is under the impression that you are not doing or thinking about anything interesting, he may leave for that reason alone - because he is wasting his time. This exercise is the beginning of teaching you how to use Occlumency as more than just a passive defence, in this instance to work a deception."
Harry got the concept. He thought of using Professor Binns' History of Magic class, but realised that this would not be very deceptive because he was not in school at the moment, and even if he were, he would no longer taking History of Magic. Finally, he settled on being a couch potato and watching football games, as Dudley often did. He then practiced focusing on that image and transmitting it to Dumbledore for the rest of the session.
At the end of the session, Harry had an idea of his own. "Headmaster, is there a way that I could … like … seize and hold someone who is trying to invade my mind, and either keep him inside or force him to come to where I am?"
"Mister Potter, if you are thinking about Voldemort, the answer is no - not without causing him to destroy your mind. You might be able to trap and hold someone very inexperienced, but a powerful wizard like Voldemort would tear your mind to shreds until you were too weak to try to hold him any longer, and then you would be, as the Muggles say, a vegetable," Dumbledore warned. "Do not even think of trying that. Not only would it be suicidal, but it would not stand a chance of ultimately succeeding."
"But if Voldemort could destroy my mind through Legilimency, why hasn't he tried already?" Harry asked.
"That is a good question. I suppose the answer is because he thought he could use you for other purposes," explained Dumbledore. "But he could decide at any time to try exactly that. At present, that risk is the most immediate reason why it is imperative that you learn Occlumency. Unless and until the mental link between you and him is closed somehow, you need to be able to shut him out. Your sanity could well depend upon it."
As they were preparing to leave, the Headmaster brought up one more subject with Harry that reinforced his amazement at how much Dumbledore knew about seemingly everything.
"Mr. Potter, you recently used a number of disorientation spells on one of Mrs. Figg's Kneazle cats…."
`Damn,' thought Harry, `she ratted on me even after I apologised and said I wouldn't do it again.' "Yes sir," Harry answered truthfully (because he had no choice), "I understand that was stupid and I've already promised not to do it again."
"Too right," the older man replied, "but a member of the Order, who was sent to determine what happened, also detected the signature of another spell, the Orgasimos Curse." Harry was stunned that Dumbledore knew about that, but tried to keep a straight face and said nothing. "As far as I am concerned, that was simply another spell you placed on the unfortunate Kneazle. I want you to appreciate, however, that there is a good reason this spell is taught only in the Auror's course and only for duelling purposes - its use for any other purpose is extremely addictive. Whatever else you do, you should not perform that spell for any reason other than its intended purpose. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir," said Harry.
"Very well, then," said Dumbledore, "it is time to get you home."
* * * *
Author's notes: I haven't seen an equivalent of the Orgasimos charm anywhere else. I don't see any canon reason why it shouldn't exist
Dudley's couldn't stand on two feet line comes from "Sea and Sand" by The Who
When you find yourself in a hole, first, stop digging
"Muggsy McGraw," the name of one of Mrs. Figg's kneazles, is the nickname given to an old-time baseball manager, John McGraw, who despised the nickname
The "Alumni of Slytherin Society," mentioned in the Prophet article, makes an interesting acronym
The list of bribe takers has been updated with HBP information
This kind of manipulation of the media by timing the news is common among national politicians, especially in the USA
Carluke and Wrexham are UK place names
Halliburton is a notoriously venal American defense contractor
Greenglass is from the canon character. It had been Zabini, but HBP made him a male, so I changed it. The Zabini/Greenglass change will make for some discontinuity between the revised and unrevised chapters
The first names - Hugo, Camille, Betsy, and Andrew - are all names of hurricanes that struck the USA
The "am I allowed to move" sequence is inspired by a similar episode in the movie "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid"
Don't know if D'Israeli was really a particularly prominent abolitionist (he would have been rather young). He was PM. I made up his being the first Jew buried at Westminster Abbey - D'Israeli wouldn't be caught dead in the same place as his great rival Gladstone
Placebus = placebo, an inert, harmless substance
The display of the treaty foreshadows something that becomes important
Magic Circle is a real term referring to the most prestigious London (the "City") law firms
The Hong Kong Shangri-La is a very posh hotel in real life
Cathay Pacific was the Hong Kong flag carrier at that time
There's only one cartoon Beatles cover - and only one six-minute song on that album
The Playwitch nude photo offer was inspired by a similar offer made a couple of years ago concerning the baseball player Ichiro Suzuki
Shak's attire was influenced by the items recited in "Sharp Dressed Man" by ZZ Top
The reference to "the PM's office and even beyond" begins a riff that will persist, but won't come to fruition unless and until I write a 7th year follow-up. Five points to whomever unravels it first
"Do anything you say," from "On the Cover of the Rolling Stone" by Dr. Hook
I believe that the Quidditch camp would fit into the category of what the British call "holiday camps"
I'm keeping the 5.25-1 Galleon/pound conversion rate. I considered using the dollar/Galleon conversion rate from the back covers of QA and FB, but a Lexicon article convinced me not to.
The connection between Sir Francis Drake, Queen Elizabeth I, and the Bank of England is historically accurate
Dumbledore's robes was inspired by "Amazing Journey" from the Tommy album - "He was dressed in a silver sparked glittering gown, and his golden beard flowed nearly down to the ground"
Sumptuary laws are another anachronistic feature of wizard society
The St. George dragon is common in British heraldry, including an appearance on the coat of arms of the current Royal family
Dumbledore's statement about expecting people to lie about sexual relationships reflects a pet peeve of mine dating back to the American impeachment fiasco
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C:\Documents and Settings\Owner\My Documents\HP & The Fifth Element.ch6 training.doc 08/21/03
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