Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I don't profit from my writing.
Chapter 19: The Machine
Harry woke with one thought on his mind and for once, it wasn't Hermione. Today was the first day of their defense curriculum as part of his and Hermione's apprenticeship. At first, he'd dismissed Professor Flitwick, like most of the students did. The man was very small, smaller than Harry. He was so nice; he almost never assigned detentions or took away house points. However, as Harry had gotten better at Quidditch, he'd noticed some strange similarities between Filius Flitwick and some of the best players Harry saw or played against. There was something in how he moved that set off some trigger in Harry's mind that said 'here is one of the good players, watch this one', but as far as Harry knew, Flitwick didn't even play Quidditch.
The feeling had gotten stronger as Harry had built his skills preparing for the tournament. The fake Moody was not that skilled a duelist, but he was a grown wizard and Death Eater, so he was good enough for a 14 year old boy to hone his skills against, and Harry had taken full advantage. He had quickly developed good situational awareness and the fledgling instinct in him alarmed when Professor Flitwick came into the room. Harry wasn't sure whether it was his eyes, which while friendly, were always moving, always alert. It might have been his walk, always balanced, always smooth. His wandwork was perfection and he was one of the most skilled wizards at Hogwarts.
Of course, with Hermione around, his observations hadn't remained idle musing. When that idiot Lockhart had started the dueling club, they'd all heard Professor Flitwick had some sort of past as a duelist. That was enough temptation for Hermione and she'd done the research. There were old newspaper articles mentioning him as the all-European champion for several consecutive years in the early 1900s. Some of them hinted at underground dueling in Heidelberg, but none openly mentioned anything other than his participation in the completely legal and open professional dueling circuit. The Pureblood extremists at that time had initially underestimated him due to his size and rumors of part-Goblin ancestry. Once he won, the circuits had grown in popularity, at least in part due to Purebloods seeking to prove that Flitwick's initial victory was a fluke. Based on later papers, they had been unsuccessful and he'd retired at the top of the circuit to continue his education.
Harry was very excited to have that kind of experience in a teacher and he knew that Flitwick was amongst the nicest of the professors at Hogwarts, but it was still intimidating. He'd finally become accustomed to Moody's drill sergeant mentality, but even he was still intimidating after months of working together. Beginning fresh with a new teacher was frightening. What if he decided Harry didn't have the potential to be a decent duelist? What if he wasn't worth teaching? Harry knew he had a gnat's chance in hell of ultimately defeating Voldemort, but without a better education focused on his special needs, he suspected even that chance would disappear.
Even aside from the life or death consequences Harry faced every day, he was also a teenaged boy and the possibility of utter humiliation was more frightening in its own way, because it was more real. Hermione would be part of their lesson today and if she thought he was pants, he'd be crushed. His conscious mind knew she believed in him no matter what, but there was a deep down part of him, probably influenced by his treatment by the Dursleys, that always knew he wasn't good enough and eventually everyone around him would figure it out.
With most people, those thoughts would have made him anxious, probably visibly nervous. For Harry, it just made him appear quiet and brooding. Meanwhile, on the inside, his subconscious was processing. His memory, while not obviously as superior as Hermione's, was subtly working in the background, digesting every movement he'd ever seen of the Professor's, every spell he'd ever read or seen in defense, every dodge or duck he himself had ever made. The reptile portion of his brain was preparing and all it knew was kill or be killed.
"Hey, Harry, you're quiet this morning." Hermione said, looking sideways at him. She could sense some of the turmoil happening under the surface, but most of it was so many levels down in the primitive parts of his brain that she couldn't interpret it all.
"Just nervous." Harry said, "First real defense lesson today, you know?"
"Oh, but Harry, Professor Flitwick's nice." Hermione answered, "He won't do anything to hurt you."
Harry glanced at her, wondering how to phrase everything he was thinking.
"I'm not worried about him not being nice," Harry explained, "but in defense, everything's different. You can't really do it unless you do it all the way. He won't hold back or he won't teach me anything. I just don't want to look stupid, that's all."
Hermione understood his motivations in some ways better than anyone. Not looking stupid on any test of any sort was just her type of anxiety. What she had a more difficult time understanding was how Harry processed that emotion and how for him it was occurring on a deeper, more primitive level, where instead of concern for grades, Harry's inner demons smelled blood. These kinds of thoughts came across the bond confused if not absent all together.
The day passed in a blur for Harry, as he paid attention with his conscious mind in classes, but his subconscious mind kept analyzing and preparing for the real course later that day. All others saw on the outside was Harry brooding, but anyone with any sensitivity knew not to disturb him. Even Malfoy avoided him. After a light dinner, Harry and Hermione went to a classroom they'd never seen before in the basement. The door was heavy steel and warded with intricate runes of protection, some of them familiar from the basement door at Grimmauld place. It opened without a squeal, the heavy weight of it offset by a perfect balance. Once the door was shut, Harry called Dobby and Hermione called Winky to robe them in their dedicated dueling robes. Then they walked to a table with chairs that was the only furniture in the cavernous space. Sitting around the table were several familiar faces, Remus, Sirius, Moody, Flitwick, McGonagall and Dumbledore.
"Harry! Hermione!" Albus Dumbledore said, standing and conjuring squashy armchairs for the two students, "Welcome! We are here to discuss the defense portion of your apprenticeships.
While I have mastery in defense, I am going to allow Professor Flitwick to head this portion of your education for now, while I might take more of a hand later, depending on what is needed."
Professor Flitwick nodded when his name was mentioned, but was otherwise very quiet and focused.
"I have agreed to allow time for Hermione to participate in this training, as well." Professor McGonagall said in her burr, "While it's not a traditional part of a transfiguration mastery, I know she'll be needing it for what's going to happen with You-Know-Who. Depending on how it progresses, we may choose to make defense simply a sub-area of concentration within your transfiguration mastery. Alternatively, if you progress far enough, Hermione, we may be able to have Professor Flitwick or the Headmaster advance you as a candidate for mastery."
"So you understand why you're here and what you'll be doing?" Professor Dumbledore continued, "If so, I'm going to leave you to Professor Flitwick's capable hands."
"All right." Professor Flitwick said softly, "Let's begin. I've spoken to the instructors involved in your summer work. They've described your curriculum and given me their impressions on your progress. If their assessments are accurate, we'll be able to move directly into the dueling curriculum as it was taught to me by my master. However, if you have any need for remediation, we'll need to deal with that first, as I set a very demanding pace of my mastery candidates and will have no time to address deficiencies as we go.
"Once we do decide to begin, you'll have a different 'guest instructor' every week, who will work with you under my tutelage to master the objectives I have. There will be dueling, but it will be purposeful, controlled, and designed by me to instill and test certain capabilities. In other words, while it may seem free-form, It will not be. At times I may set certain limitations, such as use of only one hex or one class of hexes. Sometimes apparition will be allowed in this room and sometimes warded against. At times you will be allowed, even encouraged to cast shield charms, other times you will be unable.
You may be curious about my qualifications. Soon after my graduation from Hogwarts, I sought additional education, starting my mastery of charms in Heidelberg. There has been a long martial tradition at Heidelberg amongst both muggle and wizarding students. As the muggles have moved away from use of the sword, the saber tradition is fading, but among wizards, the duel is as alive as ever. I initially became only peripherally involved in one of the dueling clubs, but as time went on, I became more and more focused on dueling to the exclusion of my more traditional education. I eventually postponed my charms mastery while I earned a defense mastery and got involved in the professional dueling circuit, winning several championships. Later, I retired as a duelist and returned to my charms work, earning my mastery in charms before coming back to Hogwarts to teach.
Hermione listened, comparing his words to what she had read about him and what she'd surmised when she'd read between the lines. She thought he was telling the truth, but also thought he was not telling the whole truth and was actively downplaying what she knew was one of the most successful dueling careers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, despite his mixed heritage which motivated many opponents to enter tournaments merely to try to defeat the mixed-blood.
"I've set 20 dummies at the far end of the room. Please destroy five of them each as quickly as possible with full incantations."
Essentially a repeat of their final exercise on the island, both teens rapidly destroyed the dummies.
"Now four more, silently."
They complied, going even faster without the need for incantation, although it weakened their spell strength somewhat, they were both powerful casters and their spells did not noticeably suffer.
"Ok, final challenge. If possible, I want you to destroy the final dummy wandlessly."
They had each drilled a limited repertoire of spells endlessly over the summer. Harry thought about his best spell to destroy a dummy wandlessly and finally, after a significant period of concentration, managed a powerful wandless reductor curse that completely destroyed his dummy. Hermione destroyed hers with a similar blasting hex soon after.
Flitwick nodded, keeping a neutral expression. "Very good. I agree with your instructors' evaluations. Now, I'm going to practice with you each individually. I want you to cast a bludgeoning hex at me. I will block it and then cast a bludgeoning hex at you. Please block it and then cast at me. We will move faster and faster until we reach the maximum speed we can accurately perform the drill. Harry, you're first. Begin."
Harry cast a silent bludgeoning hex, which Flitwick blocked with a silent protego shield. Flitwick cast a bludgeoning hex at Harry, who blocked it, then cast at Flitwick. They continued the drill until the spells were flying as quickly as human ability to block and return fire. Harry began to break a sweat before Filius ended the drill.
"Excellent!" the part-goblin wizard said, grinning, "Now Hermione."
They performed the drill very similarly.
"Ok, let's test your accuracy more carefully." Professor Flitwick said, "Destroy these snitches with piercing charms. Go!"
He opened a box of snitches at the far end of the room. Tiny, fast-moving targets, these special snitches moved randomly and fell inert as they were hit by the focused blast of piercing charms. Harry was, of course, a natural at seeing and finding the small targets with his spells, but Hermione was also exceptional.
"Wonderful!" Filius said when they were finished, "I can see that your instructors managed to ingrain the basic skills of the duel in you without teaching you any bad habits. I can work with you. I look forward to seeing you next Tuesday."
Harry felt a huge let down. This was it? This was just a continuation of what they'd done that summer. He'd thought the dueling champion would somehow have more to offer, would challenge him more in some way. Flitwick seemed to notice Harry expression.
"I normally wouldn't do this, but sometimes exceptional students need further evaluation. If we were to spar or practice duel, I could test how you react in a more realistic engagement. Further, I think it's good that I show you my skills and frankly, keep you from being too cocky, which is one of the dangers of having above-average natural talent. Remember, there are hundreds of above average natural talents." Flitwick said, pointedly looking at Harry, "And there are tens of wizards willing to invest thousands of hours to try to reach the top tier of the dueling world." He said looking at Hermione, "But at the top you will only find those wizards who were born with an exceptional natural talent and then spent thousands on thousands of hours nurturing it. Could that be you? Perhaps. Now are you prepared to face me, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes, sir, I'd like that."
Flitwick had walked over to the table and picked up a flask, apparently thirsty. The drink inside was a clear golden color. Filius took a sip and recapped it. Then he walked to stand opposite Harry.
"Remus, you were Mr. Potter's DADA Professor once, if you'd perhaps say when to begin?
"Gentle wizards, do you both stand ready?" Remus asked, waiting until each acknowledged readiness, before continuing, "Then begin!"
Harry started to cast a spell, but had to leap aside as Flitwick's wand sang through the air and spells popped off like fluff blown off a dandelion in a high wind. Colored streaks shot towards Harry and it was all he could do with his natural-seeker reflexes, augmented by Ashdown's training, to dodge, duck, and weave away. Harry finally managed to dive out of the way with his wand poised and sent a stunning curse and a disarming curse at Filius. The champion duelist didn't change tempo as he blocked them and sent ten answering hexes at Harry, chaining a new attack on the end of each completed wand movement, so that his wand never stopped, inscribing a single complicated figure through the air. Harry kept dodging, occasionally blocking a spell with a protego charm. Every fifth or sixth attack of Filius', Harry managed to complete a spell and send it back at the master. Filius tended to block them, but occasionally side-stepped if one was near to being wide of the mark.
This was what Harry was looking for! He felt the worries of the day disappear as his blood sang through his vessels. He had no time to think. His wand danced faster than his heartbeat and he felt truly at peace as the maelstrom of spell fire around him finally drowned out the stresses of being 'the-boy-who-lived'. The reptile portion of his mind took over and that part had no concept of worry, no concept of anxiety. It knew movement and biting and would not stop until it won or died. As that portion of his mind took over, Harry didn't understand what it was, although if he thought using his Hermione-side he could describe or even quantify it. To him, though, it was like a robot-self taking over. A faster, more combat-oriented robot-self that Harry decided on a whim to call 'the machine'.
Harry finished dodging a nasty bone-breaker hex, just as a handful of reductor curses shot straight at him, exploding from Flitwick's wand like links on a fine chain. Harry blocked, blocked, blocked, somehow parrying all five, before his wand slid from the movements of protego straight into the motion of his own reductor curse. He learned from what his teacher did and didn't stop between curses, letting the motion of one slide into the motion of the next, one, two, three!
Filius was not a master of defense and champion duelist for nothing, though; he coolly blocked Harry's best attempts with a mere flick of his wrist, before spinning out of the way of the follow-up attack. His wand a blur, the dueling champion sent an endless stream of bright streaks Harry's way. Harry blocked, he dodged, he managed to avoid the first double handful, but found the more experienced fighter had planned on him successfully dodging the first ones, sending the later spells at the exact right place so each dodge had to be bigger and put him further out of balance. Finally, he couldn't keep his balance, having to jump further and further, and was eventually clipped by a bludgeoning hex, that knocked his leg out from under him. A disarming hex took his wand away, but the machine never quit, reaching for his back-up wand as soon as his primary left his fingers. Unfortunately, a stunning spell hit before he'd even struck the ground. All was dark.
Harry woke to Hermione leaning over him.
"Wow, Harry, that was amazing!" she said excitedly.
"Erm…but I lost." Harry said, confused.
"Sure, you did." Hermione gushed, "You weren't going to beat a dueling champion on your first try, but you were actually able to push him a little. Think of what you'll be able to do after he teaches you!"
Harry nodded his head, grateful his other-self didn't think he'd failed. He felt he could do anything as long as she believed in him and she always had.
"Good job, Harry." Remus said.
"Good job, pup." Sirius said, ruffling his hair, "You've got some moves!"
"I agree with your uncles, Mr. Potter." Filius said with a grin, "I've rarely had a beginning student stretch me to that extent. When I had to shift my feet, you truly surprised me. Now, I hadn't planned on that, so you'll need to hurry back to your dorms to miss curfew. Be sure to get a lot of sleep. Your first high-level duel will take more energy out of you than you'd think."
"Thanks, Professor." Harry said, shaking the shorter man's hand.
"Thank you." The professor said back with a grin, "I think I'm going to enjoy this term."
Harry and Hermione hurried out of the dueling classroom, rushing to the Gryffindor entrance to avoid curfew, although as prefects they probably would avoid punishment, unless they were on patrol, they were expected to honor curfew.
After they were gone and the door was closed, a combination disillusionment and shielding charm was taken down on the side of the classroom away from the door. Seated there were Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Madame Pomphrey, and Ron Weasley.
"Well, that boy was born to use a wand!" McGonagall gushed, "I've seen his talent on the pitch, but didn't suspect it would carry over to dueling. I agree with Sirius, he's got moves, he does!"
Albus chuckled, "Yes, he would probably be surprised to learn he could make it midway through the professional dueling circuit before encountering difficulty."
"Halfway?" Snape sneered, "Those fools wouldn't stop him at halfway. Filius took a partial dose of felix felicis and Potter still held his own."
"I have sometimes suspected that the boy has natural felix-type luck." Albus mused, "But that's neither here nor there, unless I were willing to have the Unspeakables evaluate him some day. I was rather amazed, too, at his performance."
"Yes, I had planned to dominate him completely without humiliating him." Filius said, analyzing the recent duel, "I've come to the conclusion that he'll do his best work when he's extremely challenged, what would be completely overwhelming for most people, but without crushing him. Humiliating him or treating him badly would lose rapport, but I did not mean to let him do so well. I was just as surprised he was able to do so, particularly after I took felix."
"We'll have to carefully monitor the doses and schedules for his opponents to take felix. I've been stockpiling it, but it's not safe to take frequently or in high doses." Snape said, "This will be an interesting school year."
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Harry trudged up to Gryffindor tower with Hermione helping him. He was sore all over, feeling like he'd played a hard game of Quidditch, complete with crashing into the turf and with a roaring case of magical exhaustion over it all.
"He was every bit as good as I thought he was." Harry muttered, "I think he was taking it easy on me, too."
"Well, maybe." Hermione mused, "Did you expect to beat a professor on your first day of lessons as a fifth year? Am I talking to my Harry or is Ron impersonating you? You've never been scared of a little hard work."
Harry looked at her with a little hurt in his eyes before stopping to think about what she said. He was silent for most of the trip up to the common room.
"Ok, I deserved that." Harry admitted, "It's just that I eventually have to be able to take on Voldemort and everyone's said Dumbledore is the only one he's scared of. Nobody ever said Voldemort was afraid of Flitwick. So I've got to be better than Professor Flitwick and I'm not sure how long I'll have to get there."
It was Hermione's turn to be silent. Finally, she turned to Harry outside the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"I don't know how long you'll have to get there, either, Harry," Hermione said, her eyes shining, "but I know I'll help you as much as I can and I'll give you all the motivation in the world to get there."
The image in her mind of messy black-haired children with green eyes coming off the Quidditch pitch with a book in hand came across the bond as loud as if it had been shouted, resonating with Harry's most deeply held dreams. He knew what she meant and heard what she didn't explicitly say. She would give him the motivation to fight and to live.
That night their bond was saturated with thoughts of love and hope. There was a long path filled with incredibly hard work in front of them both, but they were willing to walk it together.
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Thursday passed uneventfully, Harry barely able to drag himself out of bed for their morning run. He kept his head down in potions, knowing that setting off Snape would be a bad idea with their occlumency lesson scheduled for later that day. He carefully worked on his potion and didn't react to the evil looks from the potion's professor. He didn't even react when Malfoy tried to sabotage his potion by flipping an eye of newt into his cauldron, just wandlessly vanished the debris as it came near. Malfoy never even noticed, just assuming he missed.
That night, they made their way to the potion classroom again for their lesson. Professor Snape had made it clear that during the school year, he only planned to teach Harry and Hermione, who'd encouraged the others to keep practicing on their own.
"Ah, my remedial students." Snape said as they entered, "Sometimes I wonder if these lessons are more for your benefit or are the Headmaster's test of my patience. Today, I have planned something different. You somehow have managed to continue your track record of adequacy in occlumency. I will need to cement that mediocrity, as I am sure that left to your own devices, you would manage to slide into total incompetency, however, for now I want to work more with you on the related art of legilimency. I do not expect nor do I need for you to become master legilimens. However, I do want you to become at least partially skilled in this art for two reasons. First, it will let you continue to test each other's defenses. Second, and more importantly, it may be useful in your dueling, Mr. Potter. However, that is an extremely advanced form of legilimency, as you must be able to do it wandlessly and without distracting you too much from your defense. I have my doubts whether you'll be able to achieve this, but I have promised the Headmaster I would do my best with you two despite your limitations, so let us begin."
Professor Snape was a hard taskmaster, but he'd also proven to be a better teacher in small settings than he was in the potions classroom. They left the potions classroom exhausted, but feeling they'd made progress.
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The weekend began with the Quidditch tryouts on Friday. Having 'convinced' Professor Umbridge to cancel his detentions, Harry was able to be there with his team, much to Angelina's relief. That morning, Harry caught Ron in the common room before their run.
"Hey, Ron." Harry said, "You know those oaths we swore?"
"Yeah, Mate." Ron replied, "What about them?"
"You meant it, right?" Harry asked.
"Of course!" Ron said, starting to get angry, "It was a magical oath. I couldn't not mean it!"
"Right," Harry continued, "didn't mean to imply that, just wanted to be sure you understood I meant mine, too."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked suspiciously.
"He means," Hermione said, coming down the girl's staircase with a long, wrapped package, "that when he said he'd treat you like family, he meant he'd treat you like family and I think he's hoping you won't make a fuss over it. Merry Christmas early, Ron. It's from Harry and I."
Ron's eyes were wide as he recognized what the package must be, since few things had that shape.
"You didn't." Ron said, his hand reaching out to the package and pulling back indecisively, "It's too much."
"You don't even know what it is, yet, Mate." Harry said, pushing his friend, "Open it."
Ron ripped the packaging off and found just what he'd hoped for, a new broom.
"It's the new Cleansweep!" Ron exclaimed, "Best Broomstick said this was a best buy! Said it accelerates nought to seventy in ten seconds. Wow, this is great!"
"So you like it?" Harry asked with a smile, "I wanted to give it to you earlier, so you could practice with it before the tryout, but it just came by owl yesterday."
"I love it!" Ron said, "I don't know though, it really seems like too much. I don't think my parents would want me to accept it."
"Well, we can't take it back, Ron." Hermione sighed, "It was on sale and they threw in personalization, so they won't take returns."
Ron looked down at the shaft of the broom, where 'Ron Weasley' was burned into the handle in a fancy script.
"Well, if they won't take it back, there's not much they could say, is there?" Ron said stunned, "Thanks, guys! Hey, maybe we could skip the run this morning and go flying, instead?"
"Sure!" Harry agreed.
Hermione just shook her head, but went back to her room to grab her own broom.
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In the common room that night, the 'Golden Trio' was sitting together. Ron and Harry were playing chess while Hermione read a book.
"Did you see me when I blocked that shot from Alicia?" Ron said excitedly, "I've read about the tail drag half spin maneuver, but never expected I'd be able to make it work!"
"Yeah, you were amazing, Ron." Ginny said, stifling a yawn as she walked up to them, "They may just recruit you out of school for the pros."
"Well, I was pretty good." Ron said to his sister.
"Yeah, you weren't bad." She admitted, "Which is good, because I can't imagine McLaggen on the team. He's a douche."
"Thanks, sis." Ron said, "You did really well, too. You'd be on any other house's team."
"You mean any team without Harry on it?" Ginny said with a smirk, "Yeah, you're right. I think I'll try out for Chaser, next year."
"Hang in there, Gin." Harry said, absentmindedly, while considering his next move, "You made the reserve team. If I can't play, you're in."
Harry moved his Queen, while contemplating the terrible position he was in.
"Mate." Ron said, moving his Bishop and completing the trap he'd set.
"Bugger." Harry muttered.
"Maybe if you're lucky." Hermione whispered to him with a smirk.
Ginny blushed scarlet, having overheard Hermione's whisper.
"You haven't?" she hissed.
"Not yet." Hermione whispered back, "Why, have you?"
"Am I missing something?" Ron said confused.
"I don't think you're missing anything you want to hear, Mate." Harry said, trying to distract him, "Hey, Neville, want to play? Ron's looking for a challenge."
Hermione and Ginny drifted over to the corner of the common room whispering while Ron and Neville played. Luna came in through the portrait, having been given the password, a definite violation of the rules, but a frequent one for the Ravenclaw who'd been semi-adopted into Gryffindor.
Another Friday night passed at Hogwarts and all was well.
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The next week began and the second Defense against the Dark Arts class arrived. The tension was palpable as the class waited to see what Harry would say and what Umbridge would do. Harry had spent hours thinking about the situation. He'd spent time during his occlumency meditations trying to decide what would happen if he took different approaches to Umbridge. He'd even resorted to asking Ron for strategic advice. Ron had pointed out what he'd already figured out on his own. He could do what he longed to do and push Professor Umbridge for an apology, but the toad-like woman was likely to decide that she couldn't let a fifth year, no matter who, show her that level of disrespect. She might decide she was willing to duel. While Harry was sure he'd win, which Ron agreed with, he wasn't sure he could avoid seriously hurting Umbridge. When he reframed the conflict in its most simple terms, he'd decided his ego would have to tolerate a little bruising as it wasn't worth killing a woman to satisfy it.
So Harry sat quietly through DADA. Hermione kept her head down as well, although Harry could feel her seething through the bond. After an entire double length class spent doing nothing but reading the insipid text, she almost ran out of the room.
"We've got to do something."
Harry only found out what she'd decided they had to do later that night, in the common room. The idealist who'd conceived of SPEW was fed up. Her academic side couldn't stand the thought of the poor preparation they were receiving for their DADA OWL, even though intellectually she knew they were already over prepared given their summer work. For Hermione, it was the principle. She also worried that others weren't as prepared as the Black Isle crew.
"Harry, I've decided what we need to do." Hermione said.
"About what?" Harry asked, having trouble picking up the conversation with no context.
"Defense!" Hermione cried, exasperated, "We have to do something! Harry, Umbridge isn't teaching us anything! We have to learn somehow or we're not going to be ready for our Defense OWL at the end of the year. Well, to be honest, we won't have a problem, but we should consider our classmates, right? What we need is a real teacher."
"A real teacher?" Harry replied, "That's a good idea. Someone like Remus. He's the best teacher we've had for DADA ever. Even the fake Moody was better than average and he was a Death Eater! Maybe we can convince Remus to come in and tutor. Or Sirius. Or they could take turns…"
"Professor Umbridge would never allow that, Harry." Hermione said quietly, "But I've got a better idea, anyway."
"Better? Who could be better than one of those two?" Harry asked, confused.
"Someone who's faced Voldemort himself four times and survived." Hermione said confidently.
"Moody?" Harry mused aloud. Ron smirked in the background watching this exchange.
"That's a good idea." Ron added helpfully, "Maybe we can find someone who can go head to head with a dueling champion and hold his own."
"That's an idea, Ron!" Hermione smiled, "Someone students can identify with and use as a role model."
A dawning look of comprehension and shock started spreading across Harry's face.
"Bugger me!" he exclaimed, suddenly understanding their idea.
"If that will convince you." Hermione offered deadpan, then whispered, "but it might be more fun if you do the buggering…"
"What?!" Harry asked, his shock multiplied.
"Just trying to think of ways to convince you." Hermione shrugged. "This is the second time you've brought it up."
"But…but…now I can't even think of what I was going to say." Harry stammered.
"Exactly." Hermione giggled, "What is there to think about? It's a great idea and we'll help. I'll prepare the lesson plans in advance and handle all the administration. All you'll have to do is to teach defense and you're great at the subject!"
Harry's first impulse was to rage about how nobody would listen to him, how he was despised as an attention seeking immature child, how he didn't know enough to teach, but Hermione's faith in him was almost palpable though the bond. Of all the people he knew, she knew the most about academics and how best to prepare for tests. If she wanted him to teach and he could feel through their bond how much she wanted that, then she honestly thought he was the best choice.
"What about the garbage the Daily Prophet has printed?" Harry asked, "Won't students be thinking I'm a nutter, just doing this for more attention?"
"I don't think so, Harry." Hermione explained, "They've known you for years. They saw you win the tournament and you didn't just win, you dominated against students older than you. I think you underestimate the amount of respect you have around here. And if some do show up because they think you're a nutter and want to see you explode, then hopefully they'll stay long enough to see what you can really do and what you can really teach."
Harry thought about it. He was really afraid of embarrassing himself and afraid of losing Hermione's high opinion of him, but she was very convincing.
"Isn't there anyway I can convince you?" Hermione asked seductively, rubbing a hand across his chest.
Harry blushed and caught her eyes. She blushed in return, but the corner of her mouth quirked upwards as she tried to keep a straight face.
"You'd really do what you said earlier? Let me do…?" Harry asked, already convinced, but his mind returning to her earlier statement.
Hermione bit her lower lip and gave a small nod.
"If that would 'convince' you, that's a good enough excuse for me."
They both knew he didn't need her to do anything to convince him, but she needed the excuse to bring it up and he needed the excuse to admit it was an interesting offer.
Ron drifted away with Luna, who tried to stay, curious to hear what they were saying.
"Come on, I don't want to hear this." Ron said quietly.
"I do!" Luna said.
Ron rolled his eyes as they moved away.
"We need privacy." Harry whispered as he watched them walk away, "We can't even talk privately in the common room, let alone think of doing things like… that."
"You're right." Hermione agreed, "I've been thinking about it, but haven't come up with a final plan yet. I've been reading about space enlarging charms, like the one that made the tents we used at the Quidditch Cup bigger inside than outside. I thought we could use one of those to enlarge one of the secret passages from the Marauder's Map into a secret room."
"That's not a bad idea!" Harry asked, "What if we ask Dobby which ones are used the least? I don't know if professors sometimes use them or maybe even the house elves when they're trying not to be seen."
"You called Dobby?" the little house elf said, popping into the common room, "How can I serve the great Master Harry Potter?"
Harry rolled his eyes at Dobby's habitual flattery, but no matter how often he'd told the elf to call him 'just Harry', it hadn't done any good.
"We're trying to find a private place that we won't be interrupted." Harry said, "I've got a map that shows secret passages and we hoped you might know which ones are used the least, so we're not surprised."
Dobby listened intently, showing the house elf focus on exactly what Harry wanted.
"You want a private place where you won't be interrupted?" Dobby asked, "Why you don't use the come-and-go room? If you make it private, nobody will find you there."
"The come-and-go room?" Hermione asked, "I've never heard of it."
"We house elves know all about the come-and-go room." Dobby said, "but not many wizards seem to know it. It's there when needed and disappears when not needed."
"It sounds like the Room of Requirement." Hermione said, thinking deeply, "I've heard rumors of a secret room that fits that description, although most sources think it's a myth."
"Can you show us?" Harry asked.
"Of course, Harry Potter!" Dobby said, grabbing their hands.
"Wait!" Hermione stopped him, "It's after curfew. We're prefects, so we could say we were just doing patrol, but maybe we should grab your cloak, Harry."
Harry grabbed the cloak and wrapped it around all three of them, Dobby easily fitting underneath as he was so small. As soon as they were covered, Dobby popped them into the seventh floor corridor near a tapestry of a wizard dancing with Trolls.
"You just walk in front of this wall three times while thinking of what you need the room to be." Dobby said.
Harry glanced at the Marauder's Map, insuring nobody was nearby, then uncovered and did as Dobby described, pacing in front of the blank wall three times while clearly concentrating. A stout door appeared.
"Thanks, Dobby!" Harry offered, "Uh, I think that's all we need for now."
Harry thought he might have to come up with an excuse to get rid of Dobby before opening the door, but the house elf was tuned to his needs and quickly popped away. Harry opened the door and he and Hermione stepped inside.
The room was configured as a large bedroom, with a bed very similar to the four poster beds in the boy's dormitory, although larger. There were floating candles everywhere, similar to the Great Hall during feasts, but the light was soft. A fireplace was lit with a comfortable couch in front of it.
"This is amazing!" he whispered in awe.
"It is." Hermione agreed, "Normally, I'd say we should experiment with it, but I like how it's set up now. Maybe we can experiment…with the room… later?" She discarded her robe on the couch and Harry threw his on top.
"That sounds like a good idea." Harry said huskily, "Maybe we can find some other experiments to do now?"
"That sounds smashing." Hermione smiled.
They came together, kissing desperately. After a summer with more privacy and access to one another than they'd ever had, the days since had been agonizing for the teens. They snogged furiously, bruising lips as they pressed tightly together. Hermione's hands were buried in Harry's messy hair, holding his head right where she wanted him. His, meanwhile, wandered, untucking her shirt and stroking across her bare back.
"Mmmm…no bra." He breathed into her mouth, "I love it."
"I know." Hermione smirked, "That's why I'll never wear one. Witches don't need them, because support spells are much more comfortable. I even altered it so I can keep a little bounce. Teaching that alteration to Lavender and Parvati was their payment to help me get ready for the ball. There are spells to hide nipples, too, and McGonagall tries to insist we use them, but it's too fun catching you looking…"
"Am I the only one you've caught looking?" Harry whispered.
"Maybe…" Hermione breathed back, before he cut off her words with his mouth.
As they continued to snog, Harry's hands continued to wander. Slipping them under the hem of her school skirt, he quickly found another surprise.
"No bra I'm getting used to, but no knickers?"
Hermione just giggled, snogging him even harder.
"Do you like it?" she asked, looking in his eyes, blazing emeralds in the dim candlelight.
"Love it."
"Then it's worth figuring out how to keep others from noticing." She replied, going back to snogging.
Harry began maneuvering her towards the bed and she walked with him once she realized what he was doing. They made hesitant progress, too absorbed in their kissing to walk efficiently. Finally, Hermione just gave a little jump, wrapping her legs around Harry and letting him do all the walking.
"Mmmm…" he said, "Good idea."
"I thought so." She replied.
They bumped into the bed and Harry sat on the edge, creating a lap that Hermione was happy to squirm against.
"You're going to soak my trousers, aren't you?" Harry asked teasingly.
"It's not my fault." Hermione giggled, "You're the one that causes that! Besides, what are scourgifying charms for?"
She squirmed against him more aggressively, trying to convince him to give her what she was craving through the bond. He pushed the tiniest thread of his magic into her, teasing, knowing she wanted the torrent and refusing to give it to her.
"Harry!" she pouted.
"Be patient." He murmured, "Now that we've found this room, we've got all night."
"Really?" she huffed, "Like Ron's not going to notice you're gone?"
"He'll notice, but he won't say anything. Neither will Nev, Seamus, or Dean. We all agreed we'd cover for each other if we needed to."
"Well, I don't think Lavender or Parvati will rat me out." Hermione said, "I've got too much dirt on them."
"Good."
Harry ended the talking by flicking more power through the bond, taking her to a plateau just short of the release he knew she wanted. A hint of speech through the bond told him what she'd be saying if her mouth weren't otherwise occupied, 'Oh, Harry, you're evil!'
'You know you love it.'
'Not fair reading my mind.'
'Can you imagine how much harder this would be if we couldn't? How much more awkward?'
'Actually, Mr. Potter, I can't imagine how this could any harder.'
'I wasn't talking about that!'
She chuckled against his mouth, the first verbalization in minutes.
'We're getting better at this.' She sent, 'We can hold whole conversations without talking, which is handy, because I don't ever want to stop kissing you.'
'Is kissing all you want?'
'You know it's not.' Hermione said, 'You can read my mind. You know what I want.'
'Are you sure?' Harry asked.
'I'm scared.' Hermione answered, although her mental voice sounded anything but scared, 'but I want you in me and since we both agree you can't be in me the normal way, I figured out we can do it the other way.'
'You did, did you?' Harry asked, 'How did you figure that out?'
He received the mental equivalent of a stare. 'How do you think? I read about it.'
'Ah. I see. Here I was thinking this was a very un-Hermione topic, but now I'm convinced.'
'Un-Hermione?' she asked questioningly, 'I could see how Ron might think that, but you? You know my darker side.'
'Your naughty side?' he asked, teasingly.
'Only for you, Harry.'
'You don't just show off for me.' Harry continued teasing.
'You know you like it…' Hermione said with a feeling of embarrassment coming through the bond, almost unnoticeable amongst the overwhelming background feeling of total lust, 'probably at least as much as I do.'
'So I like it that guys think my girlfriend is hot. So I think the naughty bookworm thing is sexy. After my childhood, it's lucky that's as messed up as I am.' Harry laughed.
'Luckkkkyyyyy!' Hermione sent, the one word dissolving into a drawn out mental stutter as her world went white and her hips bucked against him. 'Whew.'
'Scourgifying charms, huh?' Harry grinned against her mouth.
'Shut up, Harry, and don't stop'.
They snogged, petted, and ground against each other until Hermione's climaxes dissolved one into another. Harry had always tried to please his loved ones. In his relationship with Hermione it had become a singular focus and a third talent, unknown to anyone else. Everyone knew he was the best Seeker at Hogwarts in years. Some people knew he was also a prodigy in defense. Only one person knew he was infinitely talented at pleasing Hermione and that was fine with both of them. Secrets could be extremely sexy. The part of Hermione's personality that thrived on doing well on tests came out in Harry as an obsession with getting Hermione off. Luckily for her, he was equally successful.
'Ok, I want you in me.' She said, finally, her unmatched mind completely submerged in lust.
'How?' Harry asked cautiously, 'I don't want to hurt you.'
'You won't hurt me. I trust you. Besides, I don't think you could hurt me right now. Or if you did, I'm not sure I would mind.' She thought, sliding off his lap and onto her back, her legs still cradling him.
Hermione had done her research and thought through her plan with her usual focus. There were books out there for anything, as much in the wizarding world as in the muggle, although they were a lot less open in the wizarding world. The illicitness made it that much hotter. She'd thought through how this would feel with the bond. They typically felt each other's pleasure and she had actually lost consciousness at times after accidentally setting up a positive feedback loop with Harry. Harry hadn't, he was still hyperaware enough to never let himself go to that extent, but he felt it, too. So she theorized that even if this was a bit uncomfortable for her, it would feel good for him and that would be enough to make it better than it would ever be for muggles. She'd researched some charms that would help, too.
"scourgify et lubricus" she said, casting a very specialized spell she'd researched on herself.
'Watch your aim.' She giggled, 'It's all pretty slick now.'
Hermione adjusted where she felt him pressing into her and did her best to relax. He continued to push his magic into her through the bond, which with the aftershocks from her recent climaxes and the sheer naughtiness of what she was doing was enough to bring her close to the edge. There was a little bit of apprehension, but she really did trust Harry to do his best not to hurt her and she was learning to trust her body to take more than she'd thought it would. Slowly, patiently, Harry pushed up and into her. Uncomfortable at first, soon it was pure joy, whether it was hers from feeling him pressed against her or his felt through the bond.
Afterwards, they lay in each other's arms, sated for the moment.
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Ginny and Luna walked up to Hermione in the Great Hall, having watched her walk in to breakfast with Harry.
"Did you hurt yourself, Hermione?" Ginny asked.
"Why do you ask?" Hermione answered, blushing.
"You're walking funny, like you pulled something." Ginny answered, concerned.
"Oh, yeah, I must have pulled something during our morning runs." Hermione said, "I'd better hurry to grab breakfast, lots of studying to do, you know."
Luna just watched her settle on the bench, squirming a little before getting comfortable.
Ginny looked over as Luna gave a silly giggle. Laughing that Hermione might have hurt herself? Luna could be really strange.
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Harry attended his normal classes, progressing rapidly, but he lived for the additional mastery work. His second defense class arrived and he met with Professor Flitwick.
"Harry!" Filius said, "We're going to begin a regular rotation of instructors. I will go through drills with you, then you will duel with a guest instructor. There will be a new guest instructor every week. You will always get a chance to duel with them during the scheduled defense mastery class, but some weeks you will be able to carve more time out. When the instructor is able, they will stay for the entire week to be available should you have more time to work together.
"This week, your instructor will be one of the newest aurors, on loan to Hogwarts this week from the ministry. Of course, the minister doesn't know why she's at Hogwarts, but we won't tell him, will we? She was trained by one of your mentors, Alastor Moody. Harry, meet Tonks. Tonks, meet Harry."
A young woman with bright pink hair shook Harry's hand.
"Wotcher, Harry."
"Tonks." Harry said, smiling at the unconventional young auror.
Filius took them through drills, dodging, shielding, and counter-cursing. First, they practiced slowly, to perfect their form, then they slowly began to increase their speed until they were drilling at full dueling speed. Flitwick's mastery of the subtlest wand movements allowed him to teach Harry how to minimize his. He was quick to point out flaws in Harry's technique, something Harry wasn't used to, since his practical ability had always been sufficiently advanced that he was rarely critiqued.
"Your lazy wand work is still better than 99% of the aurors." Filius lectured, "That does not matter a wink to me. You will continue to work until the right wand movement is second hand. Only then can you relax and let your natural talent carry you."
Once they'd done the drills Flitwick had planned for the day and gotten a drink of cool water, Filius directed him to his starting point for the dueling practice.
"Mr. Potter, remember that I trained as a duelist. What we really want to teach you is how to survive in the real world against Lord Voldemort. Formal dueling is not exactly what you need. However, given that it's the background I was trained in, tradition is important to me so I want to teach you in the legacy of my teachers. Further, Voldemort is somewhat obsessed with dueling as a representation for all the many complex facets of Pureblood wizarding culture, so you can humor me and follow dueling etiquette. We will insure you learn the 'rough and ready' side of wand fighting by choosing appropriate opponents, such as Miss Tonks.
Face Miss Tonks, bow, and salute with your wand. Now you may begin."
Harry bowed to Tonks, saluted her with his wand, and no sooner completed the movement than he had to dodge a bolt of crimson fire. He felt himself start to become flustered, but the Machine was already taking over, his body dodging her spells automatically while his mind caught up. Tonks was an attractive young woman and her grin suggested they were just having fun, a very disarming expression on her face at odds with the ripples of energy pulsing off her wand. While his conscious mind noted the grin, his subconscious, the Machine, only processed it as one data point among many.
On the defensive, Harry dodged. His feet were fast and his reflexes were unreal. Having focused most of his physical training time on improving his speed, his grace, and his reaction time, his work clearly showed on the dueling floor. Harry thought to send a reductor curse back at Tonks, but realized at the last moment that many of the spells taught by Moody would be inappropriate for a duel against a friendly opponent, like Tonks.
"Stupefy!" Harry chanted, finally counter-attacking.
Tonks gracefully dodged the red energy, sending several back at him. Harry easily dodged, while waving his wand.
"Expelliarmus, stupefy, incarcerous!" Harry shouted, chaining several spells together. Tonks danced, barely dodging the final spell, her attacks broken for the moment.
Tonks tried to regain the offensive with a chain of bludgeoning curses, her wand whipping through the tiny movement over and over as she sent the string of curses at Harry.
"Protego!" Harry shouted, bouncing the curses back towards Tonks and breaking her attack, "Impedimenta!"
Tonks sidestepped and then returned another string of bludgeoning hexes. Harry dodged, almost avoiding them all, but was clipped by one, began to lose his balance, then was struck more squarely, before being hit by several in a row, throwing him to the floor.
"Uggh." Harry groaned.
"Good one, Harry!" Tonks smiled.
Harry grinned back, understanding this was a friendly competition. The Machine, living at the base of his brain, ignored the social interaction. It knew one thing, loss and danger. Winning was everything, because winning was surviving. Cold, efficient, the reptile portion of Harry's mind analyzed and planned the next exchange.
"Take your places." Flitwick said, "Bow and begin!"
Harry bounced on his feet slightly, loosening up. Getting ready. He didn't recognize it, but the machine began to take control. Limbering the muscles. Releasing fight or flight hormone. Preparing, always preparing. Harry bowed to Tonks as she bowed to him. A quick salute with his wand and the Machine was in full control. He'd seen how Tonks' string of bludgeons worked and he immediately fired off a string of his own. Wand inscribing a tiny ark of motion before flowing into the same motion, over and over. He felt how the motion could be even smaller, even faster and the spells stuttered off his wand like machine gun fire. Tonks was amazing, dodging in an almost inhuman display of movement, almost seeming to flow out of the way, but Harry's attack was too much and this duel ended much like the previous, except in Harry's favor.
"Good one, kid." Tonks said, "Caught me being cocky. Won't happen again."
Harry nodded, finding words had deserted him. All he cared about was standing at his spot, bowing, and entering the timeflow of the duel again.
They lined up, bowed, and began the duel again.
Tonks was aggressive, upset at losing to a boy. As a junor auror, she had to build respect and losing to Harry was not the way to do it. She sent a chain of multiple spells at Harry, stunners, disarming hexes, body binds. Harry dodged most, batting a few away in silent shield spells. Each step he moved a little closer to Tonks. He sidestepped left, but always forward. Shifted right, leaning away from her attack, but then stepping forward. As he came closer, he had less time to respond to the spells, less time to dodge, but he could see Tonks growing more uncomfortable the closer he got. He didn't recognize the expression on his face, but Tonks quailed at seeing a grin as Harry ruthlessly batted away her attacks.
"Expelliarmus, stupefy, incarcerous!" Harry strung together, hitting Tonks with all three and leaving her wandless, unconscious, and bound.
Flitwick watched as Harry's wand continued pointing at Tonks long after he'd won the duel. His hand was shaking.
"Feeling well, Mr. Potter?" Filius asked.
"Fine, Professor." Harry answered without even processing the question.
"Very well." Flitwick nodded, a look of understanding in his eyes. He released, then woke Tonks. "Five minute water break."
Harry was too wired to stop and he wandered around the room, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but it was intense. Distilled desire to win, nervousness, and sheer joy while in the grip of whatever madness took over when he was fighting.
They continued to duel for another hour and Harry continued winning, not losing another match the rest of the night. Many of them were very close and Harry would be covered in bruises the next day, but he emerged victorious.
At the end of the night, Tonks was clearly upset at her performance.
"Good job, kid." She grumbled as they prepared to depart.
"It's not personal." Harry said, uncomfortable with her reaction, "I've got to do my best or I'll die."
"It's not that." Tonks said, "I want you to do your best. I'm just having an off night. Not sure what's wrong with me. Hopefully we'll get the chance to work more later. I'll figure it out."
Harry nodded.
"Miss Tonks, please wait for me in my office." Professor Flitwick said, "Good job, we'll discuss it after I'm done with Mr. Potter."
Once Tonks was gone, Hermione came to Harry's side from the bench where she'd been reading.
"Good job, Harry!"
"Thanks." Harry answered, "It felt good. I even felt like I was getting better. I feel…weird, though. I can't stop shaking."
"That's completely normal." Professor Flitwick said, "Now you're learning the mental game. I don't know what that will mean for you, but you've got to figure out what parts of you contribute to your success and what parts detract. You did well, today, but I think you understand how much better you must do before we're done. Fate has set an almost impossible task for you, but I think you will do yourself and the Potter name proud. Occlumency might help in sorting out your feelings and help with the 'mental game'."
"Thanks, Professor." Harry mumbled, "Anything else?"
"Yes, you seemed to stick to a very limited repertoire." Flitwick said, "Stunners, body binds, bludgeons. What happened to the variety of spells Moody drilled with you?"
"Well, I didn't want to hurt her!" Harry protested.
"Oh, did I not tell you? The room is warded to prevent grievous injury. Even spells like the reductor will only cause bruising and discomfort." Flitwick explained, "The other flaw I saw tonight was that you verbalized every spell. You need to increase your comfort level with silent spells. You're giving too much away by verbalizing and it will slow you down, as well."
"Ok, Professor" Harry answered, "Variety of spells, work on non-verbals. Is there anything else?"
"No, Harry. Have a good night." The part-goblin said, leaving the room himself for his discussion with Tonks.
Harry and Hermione walked up to the common room as they'd done so many times over the years, hand in hand. Harry didn't talk much, his mind working on all he'd learned during the bouts. They made their way to their favorite fireside couch.
"Harry, what are you thinking?" Hermione asked, "I could tell it was the 'mental game' comments that really seemed to strike a chord tonight."
"It all just feels so intense!" Harry said, "Even more than Quidditch, although if I hadn't had that experience so I could understand what an adrenaline rush was, I think my head would have exploded. It's almost like there's another Harry ready to take over during the duel. He knows how to duel well and I feel like I do better if I let that part of me take over, but I don't like that part much. I like how it feels, but that part of me has no mercy. I didn't worry about how it would embarrass Tonks if I won, I just had to win. Do you understand?"
Hermione regarded Harry for a few minutes, as they sat. She tried to explore the parts of his mind Harry had experienced that night, tried to comprehend the experience.
"I think I do understand." Hermione offered, "I've actually seen this 'other side' of you come out before. Normally, day to day, you're kind, sweet Harry. Sometimes you're moody, broody Harry. Sometimes, though, usually during times like the Philospher's Stone first year or the Dementors third year or the Challenges fourth year, it's like another Harry takes over. So I think I've seen what you're feeling inside."
"I'm afraid, though!" Harry said, "I can feel that part trying to take over during duels and I'm afraid to let go."
"I don't think you have anything to worry about, Harry." Hermione said, squeezing his leg, "If that's the part of you that's made for duels, then you have to figure out how to harness it. Just remember not to approach your whole life that way, but if you constrain it to the dueling floor, I don't think you'll have any troubles. Now, let's go through an occlumency organizational exercise. Try to bring that part of you out, try to figure out how to activate it."
"It is right, not he." Harry mumbled before submerging himself in meditation, "I call it, 'the Machine'."
Harry focused his occlumency on organizing the memories of that night. He tried to harness that part of his mind that took over during stressful times and coldly continued working for his survival. His efforts were aided by that part of him seeking to come out. The Machine had access to all of Harry's memories, it knew about the conflict with Voldemort, knew the prophecy, knew only one would survive. That was the Machine's mission, to survive. To kill Voldemort, but above all, to survive.
Normally for martial artists, finding that center, that place from which everything flowed smoothly, was a long, long process. Harry had a number of advantages. He was already an accomplished athlete, with four years of intense training on the Quidditch pitch behind him. Occlumency was made to organize and defend the mind, so it made seeking this portion of his personality so much easier. However, the most important advantage Harry had was that portion of his mind was exquisitely developed. After the deaths of his parents in violence, he'd been abused for the next almost decade. Abuse led to hyperawareness and readiness for fight-or-flight. Sustained need for that kind of awareness had built almost an entire personality whose sole purpose for existence was survival. Smell danger. Assess. Decide whether to fight or fly. However, calling those adaptations a personality was a stretch, because there was no personality there. There was simply efficiency. Desire to survive. Desire to vanquish the enemy, to grind it into non-existence. That set of adaptations was 'The Machine' and given how well developed those adaptations were, Harry wasn't sure whether he was really the main personality, because as he visualized it, the Harry everyone knew was the portion of the iceberg above the waterline and 'The Machine' was the 90% that existed below.
Harry didn't so much sleep that night as spend the entire night meditating, seeking to resolve the questions of how to harness that part of his personality. Only, very little of the night was actually consumed by Harry's work. Very quickly, the Machine took over, letting conscious Harry sleep. The Machine used Harry's occlumency skills to organize itself where it could easily take over when needed. Pathways were widened. Defenses were further bolstered. The barriers around the dark fragment were strengthened. The Machine was wary of the darkness, because it was too similar, so if the Machine were strengthened, the Darkness had to be further walled off, because union of the two would be as bad as death. However, the work was not a problem, because the Machine didn't need rest. It simply prepared.
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A/N: So I keep getting comments on formatting errors. I know the formatting was really bad in Chapter 18. It took me forever to post it, because Portkey is not allowing me upload. I often have to try multiple times. I was finally able to post that Chapter by converting to text, then to HTML. I've found if I can get a partial upload, then I can replace with a full upload more easily. However, after multiple attempts, I still wasn't able to fix the formatting, despite it looking normal on the HTML document I'm uploading.
If anyone has any tips, I'd welcome them. I'm even thinking of posting the story elsewhere, because with my time limitations, I can't afford hours to upload each chapter.
I read a really excellent story that exhilarated me and discouraged me, because the author managed to write what I'm intending to convey much better than I will. If you want to read a really well conceived approach to Harry's dueling, read "The Meaning of Father" by The Obsidian Warlock. I was really impressed. Harry and Hermione had very different strengths, which is hard to write. Kudos to the author.