The Battle Standard
by Jardyn39
Chapter 11 - War Tales
Harry Apparated directly to Moody's back garden, facing the house just in case the retired Auror decided to take a pot-shot at his back.
Moody, though, was sitting on a stool and rummaging through his canvas bag.
"Ah, there you are Potter."
"Harry," prompted Harry.
"Right. Anyway, this morning I thought we'd progress. You did quite well with the Bokken yesterday; rather better than I expected."
"Bokken?"
Moody stopped and looked up.
"Damn. Did I not tell you that? I said I was a useless teacher, didn't I? A Bokken, Harry, is a Japanese term for a timber practise sword. A true Bokken looks more like a Samurai sword, of course."
Harry nodded.
"I still don't see why did you have to keep the timber practise swords transfigured. They couldn't be classed as weapons, could they?"
"No, but the Ministry aren't complete idiots. If they found them they'd start looking for what else I've got hidden away around here. Actually, it was Arthur Weasley who suggested I hide them."
Harry smiled and nodded.
"So, what are we practising with today?"
"I thought I'd take it easy and just fire hexes at you. Here, you'll need this," said Moody, handing him a small timber trophy shield. It looked rather like one of Dudley's boxing trophies. Upon close inspection Harry found it was for third runners-up in a Scouting football tournament.
Moody picked up his wand and lightly touched the tip to the trophy.
Harry felt a mild shock run through his fingers and found he was holding a large metal shield. He put his left arm through the leather straps at the back and grabbed hold of the handle before walking out a few feet towards the centre of the lawn.
The shield was heavy and felt awkward but he assumed he would somehow get used to it.
"What are you doing, boy?"
"Um, I don't know," replied Harry honestly. "I assumed you'd start firing hexes at me."
"Come back here," Moody ordered. "How on earth do you expect to defend yourself like that? You're a wizard, not some medieval knight."
"Okay, so how does a wizard hold a shield then?" replied Harry, now a little nettled.
Moody was silent for the moment it took Harry to come back.
"You were raised by Muggles."
"Yes."
"I forgot. You see, every wizard child would know."
"Okay, so what should I be doing?"
Moody stood and began to explain properly. Harry found Moody quite good at teaching in his own way, provided he kept prompting him to tell him things and stop digressing.
It turned out that the correct Wizard method of wearing a shield was on the back, in the style of the ancient Greek Spartans, according to Moody. Once the shield was secured by some charms, Moody had Harry running around the garden while he fired an assortment of hexes at him.
Although he felt it a little unfair that he couldn't fire back, Harry had plenty enough to contend with just evading Moody's shots.
Harry had some difficulty at first, mainly because he kept banging his elbows. Moody explained that the Greeks had solved that problem by cutting openings in the side edges, but wizard shields were weakened too much if they did that.
The trick was to maintain a small gap between the shield and his back. The problem was that the charms alone would not work. He had to use his mind to fix the shield in the correct place.
An hour later, Moody decided he needed a little advantage so he brought out an ancient looking flying broom. Although a little ungainly, he was more than quick enough to give Harry a few scares and they could now extend their range beyond the immediate garden and grounds around the house.
*
They returned to the house for lunch, winding their way through burned and still smouldering rose bushes.
"I still don't see what advantage this shield has over a wand generated shield," said Harry.
"The problem is that in an intense fight, it's almost impossible to keep track of the spells being fired at you. Hexes will come at you from all directions, often from your own people. In addition, a physical shield can often be better than a magical one, especially as it can't be distracted. In a real battle, Potter, you will be distracted."
They stepped onto the lawn and Harry looked absently up at the house. It was a surprisingly modern looking cottage from the rear with large windows, rather different from what he had expected.
Then his eye caught movement in one of the upstairs windows.
"Someone's in the house!"
He grabbed Moody by his shoulder and pulled both him and the broom he was still riding back into the bushes.
"Potter, relax, will you? People will think you're getting paranoid."
"I saw movement upstairs!"
"For your information, Potter, I have a house guest staying with me at the moment."
"Oh. You didn't say."
"Can we go now?"
"Sorry," said Harry, letting go of Moody's arm.
Moody floated up over the rose bushes but Harry had to contend with the thorns as he walked out. He rather regretted dragging them both into a bunch of rose bushes, particularly as Moody appeared to prefer plants with rather longer barbs than usual.
Once Harry was clear, Moody rejoined him.
"He arrived last night after you went," said Moody in a low conspiratorial voice. "I think he'd been watching for some time. Watch yourself, Potter. I don't entirely trust him."
Harry nodded as Moody dismounted and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Good reactions, by the way. He intended to stay hidden while he assessed your progress."
"Who?" began Harry as a figure emerged from the back door.
"Mr Potter. How nice to see you again."
*
Harry did not pocket his wand as they approached. Ollivander was leaning casually against the door jamb but Harry was inwardly shocked at his appearance.
Ollivander was skeletally thin and his pale smiling face looked incredibly skull-like.
Harry looked down, not wishing to be seen staring. Ollivander was clearly very ill. Harry wondered if his own hexes had been responsible.
"I happened upon a mutual friend a day or so ago," Ollivander explained conversationally. "She said you were asking after my whereabouts."
Harry nodded and said, "After we, um, met last, I decided I would ask you what Dumbledore really asked you to do with regard to me. I still don't buy the rubbish you told Ron."
Moody was watching both of them very warily. When he seemed satisfied that they wouldn't attack each other, he conjured a garden table and seats for them.
"Sit," he barked. "I'll organise something to eat."
Ollivander moved lightly and sat with his back to Harry. He hestitated a moment before joining the wand-maker.
"So, did you manage to provide Pansy with a wand?"
Ollivander chuckled and nodded.
"She was rather insistent. Fortunately, her requirements weren't too exacting."
"What do you make of her?" Harry found himself asking.
"She seems rather bright; and scared, of course," he added at once. "I'm not too sure what of, though."
Harry decided it would be prudent not to tell Ollivander to much about Pansy's current situation, although he knew little to tell.
"Pansy said Voldemort was wary of killing you openly, without evidence that you'd turned against him."
Ollivander shook his head and said, "No, Mr Potter. The Dark Lord would have no problem with killing me. I think he's even found himself another wand-maker."
"How so?"
"Well, I had to arrange a little accident for a couple of his sub-ordinates. One of them was carrying a new wand that I hadn't made. Rather good workmanship, too."
"Great," said Harry dryly.
Ollivander snorted and said, "Remember wands alone cannot fight."
Moody came back levitating a large tray in front of him which he skilfully dropped onto the table.
*
About an hour later, Moody vanished the tray and the remains of their meal. There'd been no beer today, and Harry was sure Moody wanted them both to keep a clear head.
"Alastor? Would you be kind enough to bring out the carpet roll again?" asked Ollivander pleasantly.
Moody grunted and shuffled off back into the house.
Ollivander's smile faded and he said, "It's been playing on my mind for some time now. I knew Moody was holding these items for Dumbledore and I guessed he would have been asked to help you understand."
Harry sat up.
"Understand? You mean, not actually learn to fight with them?"
"Don't be too hard on Moody, Harry. He's trying his best."
"I know that," Harry said quietly in case is voice carried. "It just seemed so unlikely that Dumbledore would want all this."
"You perhaps know Dumbledore's true intentions better than I," said Ollivander, turning as Moody returned. "Let's look at these things up on the table, shall we?"
Moody unrolled the carpet over the table.
Ollivander picked up one of the short swords, looked at it briefly and then handed it to Harry. The moment Harry took it, Ollivander conjured three large tins of polish, several rags and a large roll of wadding.
"Away you go, Harry," he said with a smile.
Harry knew he was being directed to clean the objects, but he couldn't help but ask, "Aren't you going to help?"
"Yes, we will help, except not by joining in with the cleaning."
"Can't I use magic?"
"We will be, but not for the cleaning."
Harry looked at Moody who was clearly just as perplexed as he was. Moody shrugged and so Harry rolled his eyes and opened the nearest tin of polish.
"Alastor, do you recall the name of the wizard who wore these items last?"
"Um, Caedo, wasn't it?"
"Ah, yes. He used to think rather much of himself, as I recall."
"You could say so," agreed Moody, conjuring a couple of glasses of beer and some iced water for Harry.
Harry set to work but found himself listening with interest to their reminiscences. The sword he'd chosen to clean up first was very rusty, and there were tiny corroded pits all over the blade and there were several chips and imperfections along both cutting edges. Overall, he really couldn't see the point of cleaning these items up at all.
Caedo had been a wizard warlord of a sort. He'd gathered an army in defiance of the Ministry of Magic, and had a number of victories. His main source of income was from a protection racket.
"When did all this take place?" asked Harry.
"Oh, early Fifties," suggested Moody.
"More like late Forties," corrected Ollivander. "Caedo used the confusion of the War in Europe to gain strength. The Ministry was just as disorganised as now, except then their numbers were so fewer."
"Why was that?"
"A surprising number of Wizards and Witches joined in the fighting, on both sides. Few families emerged unscathed by the end."
"Why did they join up?" asked Harry. "I mean, couldn't they have just ignored the Muggles?"
"Difficult with bombs raining down," commented Moody. "Besides, Muggles aren't so different from us when it comes down to it. They were fighting to protect their own from an evil. Even non-magical things are worth fighting for sometimes."
Harry nodded.
"You joined up, didn't you, Alastor?"
"Yes, but it was mostly all over by the time I was old enough to lie about my age. I've never been so terrified," he admitted.
"I felt it was a mistake to make all of you surrender your wands before joining the Muggle forces," said Ollivander.
"You didn't fight as wizards?" asked Harry.
"No. The current International Confederation of Wizards is an organisation that was created after the war, but its forerunner ruled that as it was essentially a Muggle conflict, then anyone wanting to fight had to do so on the same terms."
"How many didn't come back?"
"Too many," said Moody darkly.
"I regret to say," began Ollivander, "that I was in Europe at the time. I didn't hand in my wand. Indeed, the fights I did become involved with were often with, rather against, the Axis powers."
"Well, it was a long time ago," said Moody thoughtfully. Harry decided then that if Moody wasn't too bothered by Ollivander's admission, then neither would he.
They continued telling stories of their misadventures through the afternoon as Harry worked. By the time he got to the shield, he wanted to ask more questions.
"What was Dumbledore doing at this time?"
Moody gave an amused bark and Ollivander seemed to share the joke.
"Harry, not all wizards complied with the Ministry's instructions. Dumbledore always liked to break the rules."
"Indeed," agreed Ollivander. "I recall on one occasion when he'd cornered me. I can't remember what I had done, but I reminded him he was breaking the law and therefore he had no lawful right to arrest me."
"What did he say to that?"
"He said he was fully aware of the law and asked if I wouldn't mind coming back to give evidence against him."
"Was he an Auror then?" asked Harry.
"No, he always did as his conscious dictated. If he saw wrong or injustice, he would act, but he still spent most of his time teaching at Hogwarts."
"Mind you," added Moody, "he never did break the rule about not interfering with the Muggle conflict. All he ever did was make sure wizards didn't give any side an advantage."
As Harry polished the shield, he realised that the animated dog was fading and a dull red was beginning to come through.
"You were there when Caedo finally came to grief, weren't you?" asked Ollivander.
"Oh, yes," confirmed Moody as Harry picked up the heavy mail.
Ollivander turned at once and said, "Don't bother with that, Harry. It's beyond restoration now and isn't of much use anyway."
Harry nodded and returned at once to the shield. He was rather shocked to discover that Ollivander was paying him rather more attention that he realised.
Moody continued once Harry had torn himself off some fresh wadding and began once more to polish the shield.
"To give Caedo credit, he was one hell of a fighter. He was strong and intelligent. Always a dangerous combination, in my experience.
"I was dragged along just to make up the numbers, I suspect. The fighting started at dawn and carried on for about three hours. There were remarkably few casualties, actually. Perhaps that's why Caedo got the idea that maybe his men weren't quite to keen to fight as he was."
"Not too surprising, really," observed Ollivander casually. "Most had relations on the opposite side."
"True. I know I had two cousins against us, not that I came across them. Anyway, Dumbledore Apparated right into the middle of the battle. It was a remarkable thing, but everyone stopped fighting to watch. We all moved back leaving Caedo and Dumbledore to have it out."
Harry slowed his polishing to listen.
"I didn't really know Dumbledore too well back then. He was a strange sort, as was I, actually. Perhaps that's why we got along so well.
"Someone next to me, I've no idea who it was, made an observation that struck me at the time. He said Dumbledore was never truly at ease outside of Hogwarts. Later on I found this was almost true: it wasn't Hogwarts, it was teaching his students that mattered to him.
"I've seen Dumbledore happy, angry, emotional, all sorts. That day he just stood there, not moving an inch and not expressing any kind of feeling. Even so, you knew. He was like white hot metal. You could feel his power.
"Almost everyone on both sides put their wands away at once. I just dropped mine, I recall.
"If Caedo had any sense he would have dropped to his knees and begged for forgiveness."
"What had he done?" asked Harry.
"Only the worst thing anyone could do to provoke Dumbledore. He got one of his students killed."
"Wow," said Harry softly.
"Exactly. This kid was amongst a group of idiots who left school early to seek their fame and fortune with Caedo. He could be very persuasive like that. Anyway, this boy got caught in an exchange over nothing."
Harry looked down and was surprised to see that not only was the shield becoming a rich red colour, it also had a faint Gryffindor lion coming through. He busied himself harder.
"Did Dumbledore use a killing curse?"
"Oh, no. Caedo certainly tried using them on Dumbledore, mind. It was obvious to everyone how it was going to end. That day was one of only three where I felt Dumbledore was using close to his full potential power."
"He'd always been so careful before then," added Ollivander.
"How do you mean?" asked Harry.
"Well, generally the only people who could testify as to his true strength were, um, dead."
"He killed rarely," added Moody quickly, "and he never used his advantage over an opponent. I even saw him yield once."
"Yes, but he did admit to me, years later, that he'd been rather ashamed of the way he acted that day. Caedo was strong, but not that strong. Dumbledore, probably for the last time, allowed his anger to dictate his actions."
Harry looked up to see Ollivander looking intently at him.
Harry nodded, knowing that they were at last coming close to what Dumbledore wanted him to learn.
"I think that's enough for today, Harry," said Ollivander with a smile.
Moody swore and said, "Look at the time, will you?"
Harry looked up to the sky and realised it was becoming dark.
"I'll sort you out a cot, Harry," said Moody. "You can stay here tonight and we can get an early start in the morning. Come and call from the kitchen fireplace so they know where you'll be."
Harry followed Moody into the house leaving Ollivander sitting in the garden.
"I'm not sure I should," said Harry quietly once they were inside. He had been looking forward to returning home to see Hermione.
"Look," said Moody seriously, "quite apart from the fact he gives me the creeps being around here and I spent all last night thinking I would wake up dead," he added quickly, making Harry smile. "Look, I think he'll go if you aren't here. He clearly feels obliged to help and I've a feeling he actually knows what Dumbledore wanted you to get out of all this."
Harry nodded and said, "I do appreciate your help, you know that, right?"
"I just wish Dumbledore had been a bit more specific. He could be damn annoying like that sometimes."
Harry smiled.
"Well, okay. I'll need to call Hermione, though."
"Floo powder is in the left hand pot," advised Moody. "The other pot is an explosive. I keep that for crank calls and Floo-sales. You don't know how lucky you are having a secure Floo connection."
*
The next morning Harry got up early and continued cleaning the equipment that had once belonged to Caedo.
Before starting he re-examined the swords he'd started to clean the day before. He could have sworn that they had been in far worse condition than he now found them in. The rust pits were far less dense and the cutting edges now looked sharp and even. What had happened to the chips?
He began with the broadsword, which was in quite good condition, and then started on the vambrace arm protectors and cuisse thigh plates. It took him some time to work out how the complicated breastplate and backplate worked, as these were the only parts that were actually articulated.
What struck him most was the light weight of everything. Clearly, they were charmed to deflect hexes rather than a physical assault. He was also surprised there was no calf protection, but Moody had assured him that dragon-skin boots would be much better. He had also wondered if Fred and George's charmed clothing might not be better than armour, but Moody doubted if the charms would hold up under an intensive attack.
The charmed armour actually needed little work, much to his surprise and he soon resumed work on the shield. This time he concentrated on the reverse of the shield.
Moody shuffled into the kitchen at a little after seven, which was a couple of hours after Harry had begun work. He was yawning widely.
"Morning," said Harry with a smile.
Moody tried to respond but the urge to yawn again overcame him. On his second attempt he managed to say, "Morning, Potter. Put the kettle on, will you?"
Harry rose and filled the kettle at the Belfast sink.
"Tea or coffee?" asked Harry as the water reached the brim.
"Um, tea," replied Moody, scratching his beard. "How about you?"
Harry jerked violently seeing Ollivander lean forward out of the shadows at the back of the kitchen. The kettle lid went flying and water sprayed around.
"Tea will be fine, thank you," said Ollivander softly, getting up silently and moving to join Moody at the table.
Harry retrieved the lid and re-filled the kettle, still shaking with shock. He had no idea Ollivander had been sitting in that dark narrow alcove. He must have been there watching him all the while he was cleaning.
As he fought to control his breathing and concentrate on making breakfast, all he could think about was how it wasn't just Moody that felt Ollivander was giving him the creeps.
*
The rest of the day was spent once more with Harry running around trying to evade Moody's hexes. The only difference being that Ollivander made Harry carry the broadsword and short sword as well.
Ollivander himself preferred to sit and relax at the garden table, although he would fire the occasional hex in Harry's direction if he came within range.
By the end of the day Harry was exhausted and Moody wasn't that much better than he.
As Harry lay panting, flat out on the lawn, Ollivander said, "I'm surprised you haven't asked me to explain further. I mean, about my conduct towards you."
"I thought you'd tell me in your own time," replied Harry. "Besides, right now I'd be more interested in knowing how to make that broadsword a bit lighter. My charms had no effect and Moody refuses to try for me."
Ollivander smiled down at him.
"How do you imagine wizards managed in the past?"
"They probably got some gullible idiot like me to carry it around for them," suggested Harry.
"Some did do that, but most didn't. Perhaps I might demonstrate?"
Harry lifted his head in time to see Ollivanter reach into Moody's practise bag and bring out two cricket stumps. He tapped them lightly with his wand and they transformed into two long straight swords, although not quite as long as the broadsword. They were actually rather elegant with thin blades. Harry looked with some envy at how light they looked.
"I'll use these," said Ollivander going over to the middle of the lawn. "Now, you'll notice these aren't so long and there are two of them."
Harry sat up and nodded.
"Well, I'm shorter than you, so I need a sword that is shorter. I've got two simply because I like to show off. In addition, it is many years since I tried with one and I was never much good anyway. Two is easier because they keep in balance."
Harry frowned as Ollivander dropped one sword blade down so it stuck out of the lawn. He turned with his back to it and dropped the second right in front of him. Harry guessed there was perhaps three feet between each sword.
"I have been known to lose control, so be prepared to jump out of the way," said Ollivander with a smile before he tugged at the sword in front of him.
At first the sword refused to budge, and Harry was reminded how weak and ill Ollivander looked. Finally the sword rose up in Ollivander's hands.
To Harry's astonishment, the sword behind him did the same thing.
Ollivander then rotated the sword so the blade pointed directly upwards. The rear sword exactly mirrored these movements.
Then Ollivander allowed the blade to fall down whilst at the same time rotating the handle. Then he let go completely and he was then standing between two slowly rotating swords.
He took two steps forward and the swords kept pace. He turned and the swords followed again.
Finally, the spinning swords began to speed up until Harry could no longer see the blades at all and the handles were just a blur.
The blades then began to slow again, but didn't stop.
"As you can see, one is protected from attack from close quarters," said Ollivander. "Now, there is a more useful variation of this."
As he spoke one of the swords seemed to turn in mid-air and rotated counter-clockwise before moving behind him. Now both swords were rotating quickly at his back, each slightly offset.
"Skilled wizards have been known to control up to five swords at a time, although I confess that feat is well beyond me."
Moody had stepped out again and was watching Ollivander with interest.
"I once met at wizard who could do that trick in his sleep. He had four swords circling around and over his crib all night. Mind you, his tent did usually have quite a few holes in it by the morning."