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Chapter title attributed to Greek philosopher Plato "But if you ask what is the good of education in general, the answer is easy: that education makes good men, and that good men act nobly."
Chapter 8: Making Good, Noble Men
For the remainder of August Harry spent his days, for the most part, simply enjoying free life and spending some of his considerable wealth in the process. His years of servitude, used for want of a better term, under the tyrannical Dursleys had gifted him with extraordinary household skills, which served now him well in his freedom. One of his favourite pastimes was expanding on the enormous garden he had inherited. Under his care the grounds of Potter Manor, already a treasure trove of beautiful fauna, flourished into a veritable rainbow of plant life.
His second, and arguably more important, task during his semi self-imposed exile (Mad-Eye had sent him a very vocal letter all but forbidding him to leave his property. This floated fine with Harry as it gave him time to work on his gardening) was fulfilling his heavily revised list of Head Boy duties. Every day at around 2 PM Hermione dropped by, they spent a few hours touring the garden, and they sat down to organize patrols for the twenty-two Hogwarts prefects. They had already been instructed not to include themselves, and double-checked with McGonagall about exempting Ron. The students were expected to patrol the halls each night, from curfew at nine until the start of breakfast at seven the next morning. Each individual prefect was paired with another, not necessarily from the same house or year, for a couple of two-hour shifts on Mondays through Fridays inclusive. On weekends, since there were obviously surpluses on patrol hours during the week, the prefects with the least number of overall patrol hours logged for that week took turns on the ten weekend patrols.
In previous years each prefect had taken an assigned slot that never changed by week. This year Harry and Hermione decided to simply make a schedule for the entire year excluding holidays, which were covered by the teachers, in the interests of ensuring everyone logged more or less equal hours. It sounded like a complicated system, but it really wasn't. The most difficult part was splitting twenty-two students (or eleven teams) evenly among five shifts a day, thirty-five shifts a week, for a total of just below forty-two weeks, 290 days, or 1450 shifts. Beyond the obvious organizational benefits of the new system, in his truly honest moments Harry had no trouble admitting to himself that they had really decided to reconstruct the schedule as a front to spend more time together.
But Harry hardly spent all his time working and gardening. Every Saturday Ron would join his best friends at Potter Manor, and the three of them would do any number of things over the weekend that they all stayed. Some days Harry and Hermione spent trying to introduce Ron to a world without magic, mostly through the rather impressive home entertainment unit Harry discovered in one of the many rooms. Ron was quite amused by the portrayal of magic in such classics as Cinderella and Wizard of Oz, was positively captivated by Star Wars and Braveheart, and scared shitless (literally. Don't ask) by The Shining and Dracula. They considered introducing him to literature, but ultimately decided not to push their luck. The rest of the days were spent researching in Harry's sizeable library. They had established a list, charmed by Hermione against unwelcome eyes, of what they considered to be potential horcruxes. The locket, the cup, and Nagini were all definite, but the Ravenclaw spot could possibly be several things. Harry's great-great-great grandmother had been a historian, and so had appropriated an impressive collection of history books for the Potter shelves.
In total they discovered records of only three artefacts of Ravenclaw's. The most prominently described was the diadem, which allegedly had the power to amplify natural intelligence. Although it was the easiest one to find records of, it had disappeared several years before its owner's death making it unlikely that Voldemort had stolen it. The second possibility was Ravenclaw's wand, which they had traced back to Ollivander's wand shop. Some searching through the Ministry's public archives revealed no records of how Mr Ollivander acquired the wand, only that it had seemingly evaporated after his disappearance. The final artefact was some sort of ring. No historical records the three pseudo investigators could turn up revealed anything about the nature of the ring, only an illustration depicting a silver Celtic knot inlaid with a large sapphire. The ring hadn't been seen since the private collector who owned it died of natural causes about thirty years before. In total this gave them six of the seven Dumbledore had guessed at. For the last they were absolutely stumped. The only artefacts of Gryffindor's they could find record of were the Sorting Hat and the sword. The hat hadn't been anywhere but the Headmaster's office or the Great Hall in almost a thousand years, and all records of the sword indicated that it had been under Gringotts security since Gryffindor's death.
On August 31, the last day before school started again, the Weasleys, the Lupins, Hermione and Sirius all came around for dinner. Harry cooked a beef and pasta dish, Remus selected a wine from the cellar, and they all had a wonderful evening. The next morning Harry rose early to pack before meeting his guard, comprised of Mad-Eye and an unexpected appearance by Aleksandr Ivanóv. Aleksandr made no reference to the last time he and Harry had spoken, and Harry decided it was in his best interests to do the same. At the Russian's insistence they travelled in Ivanóv's Charger, rather than the portkey that Mad-Eye had prepared. Thanks to the mercenary's near-suicidal driving, and probably a few enchantments on the car, they arrived at the station with plenty of time to spare. Harry and Mad-Eye, the latter grumbling most of the way, followed Aleksandr in a roundabout path to the barrier. He directed their attention to the washroom as they passed at a safe distance, evidently the place that Moody's portkey would have taken them, where a number of people Harry recognized as Death Eaters were lounging. Needless to say that shut Mad-Eye up. In only a few minutes Aleksandr's cold efficiency had succeeded at establishing Harry and his luggage on the train and thoroughly impressing Moody.
On the way down to the compartment that traditionally held Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville, Harry bumped into Hermione and Ron, the former of whom alerted him to the fact that they had to meet with the prefects. The meeting basically amounted to Harry and Hermione bringing the new prefects up to speed on their duties and colleagues. They told the collective group of prefects of the new patrol system, and that a schedule for the entire year would be posted on the bulletin board in each of the house common rooms. Then they set the group of them loose on the train, with strict instructions to get up and patrol every once and a while. The three of them met up with Ginny, Neville and Luna in 'their' compartment, and generally spent the trip in comfortable company.
At only one point during the many hour trip was the relative peace disturbed. Luna and Hermione were lost to the world, noses buried in The Quibbler and a thirty-pound Arithmancy textbook respectively, Ron was unceremoniously thrashing Neville at chess and Harry was firmly ignoring Ginny's amorous stares with a game of solitaire. However all of them looked up when the compartment door flew open to reveal Crabbe and Goyle flanking Blaise Zabini. Somehow Harry was not surprised. "Hello Zabini, you missed the meeting." He commented nonchalantly after letting out a yelp of triumph; he just uncovered his missing ace.
"Must have slipped my mind." The average-height black teen responded sarcastically. Evidently the young man who had been appointed to replace Malfoy as seventh-year male Slytherin prefect had equal respect for the position as his predecessor.
Hermione called him on it. "Careful Zabini, you aren't making a very good impression." If Harry didn't know her better, he'd swear that Hermione had just taunted someone.
Guess who was not impressed? You got it. Zabini pushed past his gorilla bodyguards to stand menacingly in the compartment. "Did you just threaten me?" he breathed warningly.
Hermione feigned wide-eyed innocence. "Who, me? I wouldn't dream of it." She replied coyly.
Zabini snorted. "Damn right. I don't need to take that kind of treatment from anyone. Especially not a filthy mudblood." Momentarily, before instinct took over, Harry noted that almost everyone attacked Hermione in that way. It was an overused cliché, but what was that proverb he had heard once? 'Great minds think alike. Fools seldom differ.'
But that thought was quickly swept away by cold fury. Harry rose, knocking his game to the floor and not caring. He faced the shorter, but rather more muscular, youth. "Take my advice, get out before one of us does something they'll regret." He advised coldly.
Zabini, who had been turning to go anyway, stopped and stepped closer to Harry. He raised himself up so that their two noses were barely an inch apart. "Let's get one thing straight Potter," he spat the name with as much venom as Malfoy had. A brief wave of nostalgia swept over Harry. "I do what I want, when I want to, and no worthless lying halfblood is going to tell me any different." Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, but it seemed like the temperature of the compartment had dropped ten degrees.
Harry searched his new enemy's dull green eyes, then inclined his head to the side in a gesture of acquiescence. He turned to go back to his seat, but instead pivoted rapidly and clouted Zabini right in the jaw. He dropped like a ton of bricks. Harry raised his fists to take on Crabbe and Goyle, who had realized that they should probably be backing up their leader, but the two man-gorillas stopped cold. Looking behind them Harry could see that Mad-Eye was pushing his wand into Crabbe's neck, and Aleksandr had the barrel of his pistol in Goyle's.
"Get your friend and get out lads." Mad-Eye suggested threateningly, digging his wand further into the fleshy neck.
"Quickly." The Russian added, his voice alone making the mercury drop another eight or nine points. The burly boys lifted Zabini's limp body and hurried out of the compartment. Harry didn't blame them. If he had been subject to the fury of Mad-Eye Moody and Aleksandr Ivanóv he would have run too. Ivanóv vanished without a second glance, but Mad-Eye indicated that he wanted to talk to Harry and the rest of the 'golden trio' upon arriving at Hogwarts before following the mercenary into the compartment across from theirs.
"You're crazy, both of you." Ron declared, returning to the seat he had vacated after Zabini's slur. "I don't like Zabini much either, but he's a lot more dangerous than Malfoy was."
Luna hadn't reacted to anything yet, not even the appearance of the Slytherin trio, but she piped up at this. "A matter of opinion, Ronald." Her dreamy voice floated over the magazine she was still reading.
"Yea, did you see Harry's punch? Knocked the bastard flat!" Ginny exclaimed proudly, and shot her hero a flirtatious smile that was systematically ignored.
Harry snorted, cradling his knuckles. "Maybe, but he's got a face like a brick wall. Jeez-us that hurts." Hermione swooped in with a light peck on his bruising knuckles, eliciting an objecting yelp from Ron.
"Oh get over yourself Ronald." She scolded irritably. "Maybe I'd kiss you too if you defended my honor once in a while." Ron had no reply for this, so he simply fell silent for the remnant of the trip.
***
Once the scarlet train finally pulled into Hogsmede station, and the thestral-powered carriages carried the upper six years to the immense castle that had become a second home, Harry, Hermione and Ron followed Mad-Eye into an unused classroom just off the Entrance Hall.
"Right. As you better damn well know by now, me, McGonagall and the new Transfiguration professor know exactly what you three need to be doing in your spare time." The retired Irishman told them gruffly. "I've been talking to above mentioned professor, who wants me to keep his identity a surprise, and we've more or less equally divided training. He'll want to talk to you after the feast about his part, but I'll be putting you through basic Auror training and some of the more advanced remedies to more powerful dark magic." He summarized.
"I take it that means how to destroy Horcruxes?" Hermione guessed.
Moody nodded. "Aye Potter, got it in one. I've got to warn you, the Auror training is intense. I've had students lose consciousness during the obstacle course, and I've even had fatalities in the combat training. So for the first two months before we begin standard training, all three of you are going to get up at four o'clock every morning. We will run, we will stretch, and most importantly, we will gradually build up your physical and magical abilities to the point where you will not embarrass yourselves on the course. Any questions?" he barked.
Ron timidly raised his hand, apparently also noting the similarities. "What happens if we can't wake up at four o'clock in the morning?" he asked nervously.
Moody took a deep breath. "Then I will personally tear you from your bed like the healer tore you from your mother's womb." The analogy made all present cringe. "Anyone else?" Harry could feel Moody's magical eye on him for a moment, when his normal one was fixed on Hermione. When no one had any other pressing questions, they were dismissed to the feast.
McGonagall had, after the fashion of her husband, began the feast almost immediately after the sorting, with no announcements. They had, evidently, missed the sorting, but Neville and Ginny had saved three spots for them close to the head table. Harry took the one next to Neville, to the obvious disappointment of Ginny. Harry loaded his plate with roast beef and began to eat, his mind on the training Mad-Eye had mentioned. He didn't know an enormous amount about Auror training, but he was reasonably sure it was similar to that of muggle national law enforcement. He was personally expecting an extremely demanding obstacle course, rapid-fire spell casting, and assorted investigation techniques. He catalogued his expectations for the program tirelessly, pausing only briefly to fill his plate with treacle tart. Finally the food vanished, and roughly two hundred and eighty contented faces turned to the front as McGonagall rose once more.
"Now that we have the feast under our belts, pun intended, I regretfully must ask you to stay awake for a few announcements." McGonagall declared, her joke eliciting some chuckles from the student body. "First the Forbidden Forest is so named for a very good reason. Students caught within, who are not in the legitimate company of a professor at the time, will be turned over to our esteemed caretaker, Mr Filch, for punishment. For those unfamiliar with Mr Filch, allow me to assure you that your punishment will not be pleasant." Harry noted with dry amusement that some of the first years gave Filch, who was standing off to the side looking even more menacing than usual, a frightened glance.
"Second, while we are on the subject of our caretaker, he has asked me to remind all of you that the list of items banned in the halls grows every day, an updated copy may be found pinned to his office door, and that magic in the hallways is strictly forbidden. Also, we have some new staff appointments. As many of you know our former headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was murdered last June by our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Severus Snape." If she felt any particular way about delivering that news, it didn't show. " For obvious reasons professor Snape will not be joining us again this year. In his place I would like to introduce a good friend of mine, Alastor Moody." McGonagall gestured towards the scarred, hunched figure at her right and led the applause. Mad-Eye rose to his feet (or foot, depending on how you look at it) briefly in acknowledgment. "Unfortunately my successor as Transfiguration professor has not yet arrived, and he has asked me not to reveal his identity without him being present, so you will meet him at your first Transfiguration class of the year." She took a deep breath in order to continue with the announcements, but the giant double-doors burst open on some unseen cue.
"So sorry I'm late, I had an appointment I simply couldn't miss." A familiar Scottish accent cut through the shocked silence. Harry turned in his seat for confirmation, and got it. It was the same Scotsman from his 'dream' the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding. As he passed the Gryffindor table, Harry could get a good look at him.
The man wore tongue-less black shoes laced above his ankles, and high white socks sporting red and white flags. The handle and outline of a small dagger could be seen in his left sock. He still wore the kilt, through now in red and white and the bag that hung before it was considerably less expensive-looking than the one he wore when Harry last saw him. Next to the bag hung a leather sleeve, the end of a pine wand peeking from the top end of it. Strangest of all he was sporting a velvet purple vest over his white shirt, and a hot pink tie. Above that were a fine brown blazer and a long grey overcoat. Clutched in his hand was a wool bonnet about twice the diameter of his head, in the same pattern as his kilt, topped with a fluffy sphere, which had evidently just been removed from his immaculately combed black hair. His head stood well over six feet above the ground. He had a pleasant rounded face, warm brown eyes, and a sharp nose. Curiously he seemed to be favouring his left leg, though the limp was not very pronounced. Upon laying eyes on the man, Hermione let out a startled gasp that went more or less unheard over the widespread chuckling at the man's vest and tie.
The new professor took his seat at McGonagall's left, and motioned for the headmistress to continue. She obliged him. "Since he seems to have arrived, allow me to introduce another old friend: Dr Iain Menzies." Professor Menzies rose to his feet and bowed low. Harry could hardly miss the man's eyes flitting over to his place, though he didn't seem to be looking at him, and winking. "Professor Menzies has an extensive psychological background, and has offered to become Hogwarts' first ever school counsellor. Students who need help getting through the day are encouraged to seek him out. Finally, before I turn you loose and to bed, allow me to introduce our Head Boy and Girl, Mr Harry Potter and Ms Hermione Granger." The two stood up, but Harry could see Hermione's eyes still trained on Professor Menzies. "And now, at long last, I wish you well in your classes. First years, your fifth year prefects will lead you to your dorms. Older students, see one of your house prefects for the password. Good night." There was chaos in the Great Hall as every single student attempted to file through the doors. Somehow Professor Menzies had managed to appear beside them almost immediately.
A faint Scottish brogue whispered against Harry's ear. "Don't come to my office right away. I'll call when I'm ready for you. Good night." Harry was immensely curious as to how the professor had pierced the crowds, but by the time he was able to turn and ask, it was too late. He looked back towards the head table. Menzies was there sipping from a glass full of honey-brown liquid, what he had called Scotch in his 'dream,' having a conversation with McGonagall and Mad-Eye. He made no physical display of it, but Harry had a peculiar feeling that he knew he was being watched.
"Hey, mate!" he heard Ron call. "C'mon, let's go." Harry turned. The crowds had entirely vanished. Only Ron and Hermione still stood in the Hall, beckoning to him. He followed at last. "Hey Hermione, I've been meaning to ask you. What's up with you and that new Transfiguration professor?" Ron finally broke the silence, on about the third floor.
Hermione, having been startled from a reverie of something, didn't really seem to know what he meant, and said so.
"Well from the time he came in to the time we left, you couldn't keep your eyes off him. And I'm sure he winked at you when McGonagall introduced you as Head Girl." Unusually perceptive. Well not really, but it was Ron.
Dawning comprehension lit up Hermione's face. "Oh, that. It was nothing, he just reminded me of someone I used to know. A long time ago." She trailed off, and neither male could get another word out of her for some time. Not that Harry had tried, he had other things on his mind. Like: how Professor Menzies had appeared in his dream, as what appeared to be a sentient force. Ron, continuing his streak of uncharacteristically insightful behaviour, realized that his friends were deep in thought and didn't distract them.
However, when they had split off at the Seventh floor, heading in a different direction than the portrait of the Fat Lady and the entrance to Gryffindor tower, he couldn't hold it in any longer. "Hey, where are you two going? The Tower's still back there." He gestured over his shoulder towards the familiar portrait, which had opened to admit students.
Harry and Hermione shared guilty looks. They had never intended to keep Ron in the dark about their private tower, but somehow it had happened. The secret couple had a brief battle with their eyes, which Harry lost. "Ron, there won't be enough beds for us in the Tower." Ron was either uncomprehending or back to his usual inattentive self, however you want to look at it. Harry took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to tell you is that mine and Hermione's beds aren't in Gryffindor Tower anymore. We've been moved to a private Tower." As soon as he said it, he regretted using the word 'private.' He knew exactly what Ron would read into it, and he was neither disappointed nor surprised when his friend's blue eyes narrowed.
"Oh I get it, now I know it seems so obvious. I should have seen it coming for miles. A 'private' Tower, nice. A perfect excuse for you two to go off and shag behind my back." He sneered. Harry was wounded deeply. Even though he had expected a bad reaction, he hadn't anticipated the raw venom in his friend's voice.
Hermione gasped. "Ronald Weasley!" she thundered. "How dare you!" she probably would have done the whole bit about how 'Harry is like a brother to me' and 'I can't believe you would think so little of us,' but Ron didn't wait for it.
"Oh sure, you can act all horrified about it. Face it 'Herms,' you know exactly what you're going to be doing in that 'Tower.' And Harry if I were you, I wouldn't try sneaking back in when you're finished." It was a sign of how far gone he was that he deliberately used the nickname his best female friend hated above all others, and he didn't even realize how much trouble he'd gotten himself into.
If Hermione had flushed because she really was considering the things Ron had accused her of, it was indistinguishable from her angry red hue. She sputtered incoherently for a moment, while Harry was simply frozen in place by the nightmare scene unfolding, but Ron's half self-satisfied half 'woe-is-me' face made her lose control. She closed the few feet between them in long strides, and slapped him so hard he spun in place. He must have kept going under his own power, because he had pivoted ninety degrees and stalked off towards the Fat Lady without another word; not even Hermione could hit that hard.
She just stood looking after him, fuming, so Harry was very cautious approaching her. He gingerly placed his hand on her shoulder, and tightened his grip when she didn't snap at him. "Come on, you need to sleep. I promise, everything will be better in the morning." He soothed, and he could feel her shoulder muscles relaxing and quivering under his touch. But she wouldn't cry. Not until Harry had led her to the door, muttered the password, and brought her inside.
It was basically the same as the Gryffindor common room, albeit smaller. A roaring fire, lots of red and gold everywhere, a couch and two comfortable looking chairs. But Hermione didn't see any of that as she immediately buried her face in Harry's chest. "I can't believe he could be so cruel." She told him through her sobs. "After all these years, after everything we've been through together, how can he stand there and make those horrible accusations?"
Harry couldn't answer her. He was thinking the same thing. All he could do was try to console her. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I really was thinking of what Ron was accusing us of doing." He admitted with a shy grin. Hermione looked up from his chest, her face splotched with red from pushing herself against him and crying, and snorted with amusement. He started to chuckle, and before long they were standing there laughing. It wasn't that what Harry had said was particularly funny, just that they both needed to let some things go. It was what they would both hear Professor Menzies call 'jocular therapy,' and by God if it didn't work wonders.
"Thank you, I needed that." She told him when they finally composed themselves. Her face was no longer so blotchy, the redness spread out into more of a flush, but her eyes were still shining. Harry wiped them with a thumb.
"I was serious you know." He told her, in his best serious expression. They couldn't help but chuckle some more at that, but it subsided quickly.
"I know." She responded simply, delivering a suggestive peck on his lips. But he ultimately pulled away toward the staircase marked 'Head Girl.' "But I also know that we're both really tired, and we both need to sleep off all this anger. Good night Harry." Harry barely had time to stammer out a reply before she was gone.
Harry's own room looked a lot like the Gryffindor dorm, with some obvious exceptions. There was a door in one wall that seemed to lead to the bathroom that had been specified in the letter. He had a rather suspiciously large four-poster bed, red and gold trimmings naturally, and a large chest-of-drawers. His clothes had already been put away, apparently, so he just changed into his pyjamas and laid down in his bed. Things were getting complicated quickly, but he hoped that the fight with Ron was just a temporary thing. He didn't know if just he and Hermione would be able to find and destroy all the Horcruxes. His last thought before drifting off was that it must have been some kind of record: Hermione and Ron had fought, seriously and not just well deserved shouting, on the very first day of school.
He had another strange dream that night, but the mysterious Tower showed him even more unusual things. He himself and Hermione as teenagers, the latter wearing Ravenclaw robes, shouting at each other in the halls. He saw himself as a teen joking around with Ron, Neville, and Malfoy (who was wearing Gryffindor robes). He saw himself, Neville, Ron, Malfoy, Ginny, and another red head Harry didn't know in the Department of Mysteries, facing down Death Eaters. He didn't see Professor Menzies, but that wasn't the strangest thing. The strangest thing of all was that in every one of his 'visions' he saw the lightning bolt scar that had become synonymous with the name Harry Potter on Neville's forehead. Then a more familiar scene, or at least one that seemed 'right' to him somehow. It was a dark room. A brown-haired woman was chained by the wrists and ankles in the middle, spread-eagle. Her head was bowed, preventing him a look at her face, but something about the scene terrified him. It was the last scene that finally woke him. Fortunately there was no one in the vicinity for him to attack in his confusion, and he quickly sank into fresh dreamless sleep.
So there you have it. Familiar Trio/Malfoy tension, without the Malfoy. Some jealousy from Ron, not that we didn't all see it coming. And of course, the pièce de resistance: Dr Iain Menzies. Hope you appreciate the various movies, they are all chronologically accurate; that is to say that they actually did exist in the year 1981, when the Manor was last occupied. Dracula is the 1931 version, if it makes a difference.