Unofficial Portkey Archive

Thank you to my beta, Bexis

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Tracey snapped awake. She immediately reached for her wand, but a hand caught her wrist. She blinked repeatedly, trying to shrug off the fatigue and assess the situation. She remembered being in the middle of a nightmare. She was suffocating. Her hands had clawed at her throat. A man watched while life slipped away.

"Tracey. It's me."

Harry's voice was sweet to her ears. She immediately jumped up and engulfed him in a tight hug. Then, she let go and slapped his arm...hard.

"Bugger all," Harry cursed as he rubbed the reddening point of impact. "I can't say I didn't deserve it, but did you have to hit so hard?"

"You were going to leave! You were going to leave without saying goodbye to me. What the bloody hell were you thinking?! You deserve a lot more than just a smack in the arm!" Tracey yelled.

Harry put a finger to his lips, trying to quell her, but her anger could not be checked. When Draco informed her that Harry had his bags packed and appeared to be leaving, Tracey had been furious. She was still furious. Blaise dismissed it as pointless to wait up for him, but she had savagely torn into him. Their fight was not public nor loud. Instead, it was quiet and filled with sharp words that could not be taken back.

Harry sought to contest her claim but was immediately struck by another thought. "Who told you I was leaving?"

"Draco, of course. When I went up to your dormitory, he said I just missed you. What was I supposed to do? I didn't even know if I should go to one of the professors. You...you...you…"

Tracey couldn't find words to express her rage. Perhaps it was because she had already resigned herself to his departure. She had curled up in the leather chair, desperately hoping the Common Room door would open and Harry would step through like he had so many times before. Seeing him now was a shock to her system and Tracey didn't quite know how to react.

"I didn't leave," Harry said simply. "And I'm not going to leave."

His words were the pin that deflated her ballooning anger. She slumped and felt a sob coming up through her chest. Like another balloon, it rose and rose and would have escaped her mouth. She tried to cover it and found the sob becoming a laugh. Harry was a madman. Why did he insist on doing this to her? Why did she insist on letting him?

"Then what were you doing all day?" Tracey asked when she finally regained some semblance of composure.

"Thinking, mostly. Trying to figure out what I wanted to do."

"And did you?"

Harry waited a long time to respond. Tracey watched him expectantly, mentally preparing herself for any answer. The truth was that she didn't know what to expect, or even to want of him anymore. Recently, he had been distant and reluctant to confide in her. She was used to standing in his shadow, not chasing it.

He finally answered. "Yes and I'm going to need your help."

Those were the words that she had been waiting ages to hear, but as he said it, Tracey did not feel the excitement she would have expected. For far too long, she had been struggling to feel...needed. Harry had finally obliged her, but instead of happiness, she felt a hollow pit in her stomach. Only when he had fallen from the top did Harry require her assistance. Was she supposed to feel proud, knowing that she was needed when he was hurting most? Or was she supposed to feel embarrassed that he would only turn to her when no one else was left? Should she have felt ashamed to be his last resort?

Should I help? Tracey asked herself.

A voice whispered into her ear. Yes.

She looked around for a moment and then returned his steady gaze.

"Yes."

Harry nodded in satisfaction. "Good. First thing I have to do is apologize to Blaise, so help me think of what to say to him."

"Why would you ever apologize to him? Do you know what he did?" Tracey asked incredulously.

"I know exactly what he did," Harry confirmed. He had a slight smile on his lips, laughing at a joke to which Tracey was not privy. "But you have to get close to strike most effectively."

Harry was back.

Treachery would be repaid with treachery. Harry was always a force that could not be checked for long. His strength was as a whirlpool, grasping and pulling anyone within his grasp. That whirlpool had abated in recent days. His grasp was not as strong. The debris had started to drift away. His pull was had slackened. Now, he was returning in force and Tracey sensed the waters would churn as strongly as ever once Harry prepared his next assault.

She let herself be the first sucked back in.

"Don't grovel. You're going to want to play it as wounded pride. Blaise will be suspicious, but he won't reject a public apology. It might not even work. People are pretty upset you didn't show up for Battle, but for now, it's the best course of action."

Navigating what came next would be the trickiest part. Before, Harry had always been the only one she needed to protect. He was a force unto himself and Tracey only had to watch his back against attacks while he was busy devouring his opponents. This time, though, Tracey had someone else to defend, which greatly complicated the task. Harry wanted to do away with Blaise, but Blaise had anchored himself to Draco. She would not let Draco be pulled down with Blaise, but how could she thread this needle?

"I need you to promise me something," Tracey suddenly said, interrupting Harry just before he spoke. "Whatever you're planning, do not embarrass Draco. When Blaise was questioning your fitness to lead, Draco defended you. He kept defending you all the way to the end. He did not play a part in whatever Blaise did."

Harry waited an age to respond again. He was usually quick with his replies, decisive in his actions. He let the moment linger a second too long. Is he going to lie? Tracey immediately felt ashamed to be thinking the worst of Harry, but he had given her no choice.

"I promise," he finally answered.

Whirlpools were dangerous. They were relentless and unpredictable. She felt herself being pulled into the vortex, where it would be hardest to escape. If she were not careful, she would be dragged under, with incalculable consequences. How could she help Draco if she was drowning in a sea of chaos? So Tracey summoned a bit of that Gryffindor courage the troglodytes always raved about.

"Don't lie to me," she said.

Harry nodded as if understanding her cautiousness. "No tricks."

Help him, said her dream voice again. She could not place it. It was familiar but foreign at the same time.

But she obeyed.

"What else do you need me to do?" she asked.

"A lot of things, but they can wait until tomorrow. We're both going to need some sleep. I've had an epiphany of sorts. You know the saying Rome wasn't built in a day?"

"Yes."

"Well, you can't destroy it in one night either."

A shiver of excitement and dread trickled down her spine.

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Harry woke the next morning before the sun rose. The castle was still quiet, save for scurrying House-Elves. None of the other fourth year Slytherins was awake. Harry silently dressed, taking care not to leave them that way. Harry thought he saw shadowy movement behind the drapes of Draco's bed, but the lighting was tricky. He met no one else as he exited the Common Room. He quickly made for Trow's classroom.

Cedric was thankfully routine. He was already at his customary position using one of the Stationary Omnioculars when Harry walked into Trow's classroom. Making a beeline for the Hufflepuff, Harry coughed loudly to grab the older boy's attention.

"Good morning, Harry. Nice to see you up and moving. You do have a nasty habit of landing yourself in the Hospital Wing for an extended amount of time." Cedric offered the adjoining seat, but Harry declined.

"Fortunate for me. Not so much for Krum."

Cedric shook his head, running a hand through his well-kept hair. "I don't know if you've heard what they've been saying, but I made sure to back you up. We had no choice but to take out Krum and you still went back to save his life. I felt bad that I didn't help you. I should have stayed."

"Then we would have lost." Harry pointed out. "You didn't know that they couldn't save Krum."

"Why did you?"

Harry shrugged. "I knew how many tons I had put around his neck. You didn't."

"I didn't because I never would have thought of that. You're good at that sort of thing, Harry," Cedric complimented.

Good at figuring out ways to permanently incapacitate my opponents? You know the way to my heart, Cedric.

Instead, Harry said, "I do what I can. I actually came hunting for you here to discuss the Third Task. I have to take care of some other things and I might not be able to make all the meetings."

That caught Cedric's attention. He shifted in his seat and turned to face Harry. Cedric was excellent at these sorts of movements. A minute change in his body language, and he came off as attentive. The concerned countenance on his handsome face conveyed sympathy. Little things, like posture and expression were subtleties that Harry had yet to master.

"Is everything okay? Anything I can do to help?" Cedric asked with genuine concern.

Harry shook his head. "Slytherin things. Things you're lucky you don't have to deal with."

Cedric looked pensive for a moment and then said, "Do you want some more unsolicited advice?"

"I suppose I can't stop you."

The Hufflepuff grinned. Harry was grateful that the older boy understood his brand of humor.

"I've found that it's easier to lead if people want to follow you. There's a difference between someone wanting to follow you and someone forced to follow you. If it's the latter, they just don't have the same conviction," Cedric said.

"I understand that."

"Then understand this. I told you before that I've been the de facto leader of Hufflepuff for quite a while, but it wasn't always this way. In my fourth year, I wasn't yet the leader. That honor went to Stewart Browning."

Harry had a vague memory of the older Hufflepuff. He was short and muscular with dark hair and pale eyes. Outside of his appearance, Harry knew nothing else besides the occasional appearance of the Hufflepuff's name on the lists.

Cedric continued, "Stewart is smart and not afraid to say what he's thinking. Almost like Hermione except -"

"- not nearly as abusive."

Cedric laughed. "I was going to say not nearly as persistent, but perhaps you're the only she abuses."

Harry almost smiled at his choice of words. Almost.

"Anyway, when it came time for the Board room, Stewart was chosen because he's in Theory. No one ever denied he was insanely smart. By fourth year, he had been transfiguring complex objects into other materials with ease. He was good at Strategy. Decent at Charms and dueling spells. There was no reason for him not to succeed," Cedric said.

"Except?"

"Except, he didn't know how to lead. He would get flustered and critical when someone did something incorrectly. He wanted to run the team like a clock, but the hands didn't always listen or didn't keep up with his timing. He didn't know how to manage people. If up to him, his orders would be obeyed in an instant and never questioned. Too bad people aren't like that. Eventually, he broke and asked me if I would take over the Board room. Stewart couldn't handle it."

It wasn't lost upon Harry that Stewart's fall bore distinct resemblance to his own. If Cedric were trying to give him a warning, he didn't have to. Harry understood his mistakes and failings. He hadn't yet found an opportunity to correct his past actions, but he would. Others would have to fall before he could rise again - but rise he would.

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Transfiguration and Charms were the only two classes for the day and Harry breezed through the lessons with minimal fuss. After informing Tracey where he would be for the evening, Harry departed the castle. The sun was emerging from behind the clouds and the snow was finally melting. The path to the Beauxbatons carriages was clear under Harry's feet as he approached, intent on finding answers.

The carriages were conveniently named, making it simple for Harry to find who he was looking for. Beauxbatons students were practicing charms and transfigurations outside and Harry drew their stares as he marched through the column of carriages. His eyes scanned the nameplates, passing over them quickly when he realized it was not the one. He repeated the process until he arrived at the second to last carriage.

A small set of stairs unfolded as Harry approached the door to the sterling white carriage. Ignoring the stares of Beauxbatons onlookers, he knocked on the door. His heart was beating at a slightly faster pace, but he was determined to get to the bottom of this particular mystery. Other things had to be taken care of, but not before this. Not before Fleur.

Harry was pleased to see a surprised expression on her beautiful face when she opened the door.

"Hello, Fleur. If I may?"

Refusing to accept no for an answer, Harry barged his way inside. Once in, the setting triggered frightful memories of the Yule Ball night. He pushed those aside, concentrating on the task at hand. His hands were underneath his robes, wary of Fleur trying to eject him from her room. She stuttered in French as he advanced, then quickly closed the door.

Another pretty Beauxbatons girl regarded Harry with her mouth agape. A magazine was in her hand and she wore only a very thin bathrobe. Harry did not avert his eyes, but instead adopted an intimidating presence. His face pulled into a scowl and he straightened his shoulders. He might have been only a few inches over five feet, but Harry knew posture was important when projecting power. Snape was an expert on that subject.

"I need to speak to Fleur alone. If you could excuse us." Harry phrased the second sentence not as a question, but as an order.

The other girl looked to Fleur with questions in her eyes. Harry turned to the quarter-Veela, bringing his Occlumency shields to full capacity. He prepared the defenses in his mind, ready for Fleur's brand of thought magic.

"Attendez-moi à l'école, Emma," Fleur directed.

Emma quickly donned a robe suitable for the outdoors and exited the carriage, but not before pausing beside Fleur and whispering something in her ear. The taller girl shook her head, her blonde tresses shimmering in the light. Harry ignored the pull he felt in the pit of his stomach, willing those feelings away. Emma left and they were finally alone.

Merlin, she was gorgeous.

Beauty was often over descriptive and overwrought. Girls did not glow in the moonlight or dance as they walked. Girls did not have angelic voices or mesmerizing eyes. Every girl but Fleur. Words could not describe her beauty. Words could not describe his pain.

"I never knew you to be rude, Harry," Fleur said, keeping her distance.

"Don't do that."

He felt it. Harry didn't know how Fleur's magic worked, but could sense her trying to use it. His Occlumency shields were already wavering. The relative ineffectiveness of his Occlumency shields gave him some insight into Veela magic. It was not directed solely at the mind. Veela magic affected other parts of the male anatomy as well. Perhaps it even tried to seduce male magic. Whatever the case, he produced his wand from under his robes as a visual warning.

Fleur's eyes narrowed at the sight of his wand and Harry could see a light glow around her. He had not come for battle, but he would go that route if she were inclined. They both stood still and silent. Tension and magic crackled between them, filling the air. Harry maintained eye contact, letting her have the first move. Would she attack? Would she resort to her Veela powers or her wand?

She did neither.

The air cooled between them and the heat left Harry's body. She turned away, walking towards her bed. Harry countermoved, maintaining his distance and keeping as far away as possible from her bed. The only time he had been upon it, the story had not ended well. He did not come to duel her or to fuck her. He sought only resolution.

"I suppose you're here because of what happened the other night." Fleur was surprisingly straightforward with him.

"I think I deserve to know what happened. I deserve to know why you acted that way."

She gulped, her slender throat bobbing ever so slightly. Harry watched her every movement, attuned to the minutiae of body language. The slight flicker of her eyes could mean a lie. The downward turn of her lips could be disappointment. The fingers of her right hand circling her left wrist could signify nervousness. Trying to read her every movement, Harry realized he knew very little about Fleur. He knew when Hermione was uncertain by the way she bit her bottom lip. Tracey tightened a strand of hair around her finger when under duress.

What did he know about Fleur? She was beautiful, intelligent, and…

"What do you know of Veelas, Harry?" Fleur asked.

Harry cocked his head, wary that she was questioning him. "You have powerful magic."

She nodded, her pretty blue eyes cast downwards. "You know that much, but you know very little of the Veela way. Vraiment, we can bend men to our will. I don't claim to know all of our secrets, but I know a few. Would it surprise you that Veela magic is tied to bonds made during sex?"

"Somehow, I sussed that part out," Harry snarked.

"Don't do that," she parroted his words. "I am trying to be serious."

"Then go ahead." Harry refused to give an inch.

Fleur glared at him, her patience thinning. "When Veela mate, it is more than a mere act of passion, or even of procreation. We are bonded and bound together. It transcends simple physical connection. Sex with a Veela ties you to to that person magically. It is why so little cross-species breeding actually occurs, despite the obvious attraction. The cost, though…"

Harry's heart hammered in his chest. "What is the cost?"

For once, Fleur had the grace to look embarrassed. The light around her dimmed. The songs that played in the air were muted. All the entrancing Veela qualities that made it difficult for him to tear his eyes away from her were gone. She was simply Fleur, quarter-Veela, but three-fourths human.

"You would not be able to harm me."

Harry had to laugh. It was hollow and mirthless, but irony, if not amusement exited in their situation.

"You would go through all that just to gain that advantage over me?" Harry asked.

"You've done every bit as much to gain advantage over your enemies," she spit back.

"Never," Harry hissed and was glad to see her recoil in fear. "Not like that. I've intimidated people. I've put fear into them. I've learned their ways. I've never...never played with their emotions. Not like you."

"Is fear not an emotion? Is desperation not an emotion? That's what you do to people, Harry. You make people fear what you can do. This is a competition and I am well within my right to compete every way I can to get ahead of you. Isn't this what your school - this Hogwarts Battle School - is about? Winning...at all costs!" Fleur was screaming by the end.

Harry fumed at her arrogance. He breathed heavily through his nose, willing himself to maintain his Occlumency shields. She was right. He would not admit it, but she played perfectly into Snape's hands. Anything to win was indeed the Hogwarts mantra and she had almost consumated it.

Almost.

Harry stowed his wand in his holster. Fleur looked at him curiously, still seated on the bed. One part of him could barely look at her; another could not tear his gaze away. In the end, Fleur had resisted. She had the opportunity to bind him to her, but ultimately she had not pressed her advantage to the maximum when he would have been foolish enough to dive in without a thought. For that, she should not be punished. At least, he would not be the one to punish her.

"Did anyone put you up to this?"

She looked at him in confusion. "No. It was my initiative."

He detected no lie from her. That didn't mean she could not possibly be lying, but Harry felt she was being truthful.

"How much of it was real?" Harry asked, his voice quiet. He was treading into uncharted territory.

Fleur looked him in the eye when she answered, "I don't know."

"Guess," he insisted.

She muttered something in French that sounded derisive. She ran her hands along her neck and though Fleur did it due to stress, she still managed to appear seductive. Harry ground his teeth, hoping for an answer, but not knowing what answer he wanted.

"None of it was real…"

His pain was surprising.

"...not until that night. Not until I realized that I was treating you just like men have been treating me all my life; as something to be won. For that...j'en suis désolée."

An apology would not heal his wounds. He had never thought that he could feel so much pain because of a girl. It was stupid, in the grand context of everything he had to do, but even though trivial, it still hurt. It reminded him of his impulse to leave the day before - that there was more to the world than Hogwarts. Some people out there, like Fleur, were just like him. Alone. Isolated. Feared for what they were and desired for what they were not. Imperfect, though everyone thought differently.

So, he said, "Je vous pardonne."

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If Trow were surprised, his expression did not betray anything when Harry entered the room.

"You're late, Harry," Lupin reprimanded as he stood and pointed at the projector screen, bringing it down with a wave of his wand.

Harry stopped mid-step and stared at the projector screen, then at Lupin. He maintained an even silence as his gaze eventually turned to Trow. His heart was thudding against his chest, but he had to project confidence. It was easier in Battle class. His wand was in his hands, and his enemies feared his skill. Lupin and Trow were not enemies, per se, but Harry needed to start fighting back.

"Professor." Harry directed himself towards Trow. "You said to me yesterday that no one else could take my place. Are you absolutely certain?"

Harry noted that Lupin did not look at all surprised. They were not enemies, but nor were they allies. Their relationship had taken a different context altogether, something Harry had not encountered before, in battle or otherwise - except possibly with Hermione. He tread carefully, not wanting to reveal his hand until the last possible moment. Careful, Potter…

Trow looked at him evenly and reiterated, "As I said before, there is no one else."

Harry nodded. "Then, stop teaching me this way."

Lupin moved to interrupt him. "Harry, you still have a lot to learn -"

"No."

Lupin recoiled slightly from Harry's negative response. His eyes narrowed and he stood straighter, but Harry knew that Lupin was no Snape. Though the man might be a werewolf, he was nowhere near the consummate bastard that the Headmaster was. Harry stood his ground, still giving his attention to Trow. He was the man Harry needed to convince, not Lupin.

"It was a near thing, my return. If I'm going to stay here, then I don't give a damn about previous Dark Lords. I understand what danger they pose, what power they can possess. I know why this school is like this now. If you're training me for something in the future, then what I want to be trained for. No more history lessons. No more double talk. Tell me exactly what you think, or fear, I'm going to face and what I have to do to prepare myself."

Harry spoke evenly, not wanting to give the impression of being out of control. He knew what he wanted. If he was going to stay at Hogwarts, it would have to be on his terms, not theirs. Trow returned his even stare quietly and without assumption. It was Lupin who furtively looked back and forth. The werewolf cleared his throat.

"Harry, we have a plan to develop you. All of this information will come in due time," Lupin said.

Due time was now.

Harry shook his head, determinedly returning Trow's unblinking stare. Continuous eye contact was dangerous if the professor knew Occlumency, but Harry was prepared. If Trow wanted to invade his mind, it was a battle he was prepared for. He had only tested himself against Hermione, but she had never gone easy on him. Harry wagered he knew enough Occlumency to put up a fair fight.

Test me, he invited mentally.

"Professor Lupin is correct," Trow said after a long while. "I know you're interested in jumping ahead, but you have to learn the reason we fight before learning how to fight."

Harry shook his head again. "Sorry, that's just not going to do anymore."

Lupin switched gears from appeasing teacher to domineering instructor.

"Harry, you are here because you are important to what you're trying to accomplish, but do not forget you are still a student. It is not your place to decide whether or not you're ready, and for what. You'll be ready when we think you're ready." Harry could tell that Lupin was trying to inject some anger into his voice.

Harry could not be bluffed. He held the trump card, and now he knew it. Trow had let it slip. If Harry were the only one capable of being trained for whatever they feared was coming, then he could dictate the situation. It was a mistake for them to admit it and Harry intended to capitalize on that mistake for all it was worth.

He continued to ignore Lupin, further angering the werewolf. "If you don't tell me what I have to do to prepare myself, then I'm leaving."

Lupin suddenly barked in laughter. "You can't leave, Harry."

"I can - and I might even take some others with me. Or I can stay, but I'm tired of all your double speak. Tell me what you want to tell me. You don't have to hide behind stories of evil Grindelwald or how similar I am to Tom Riddle. I already know that. You already know that. What's the point of continuing this charade?"

Trow remained silent, his face betraying nothing. Lupin, however, was growing more frustrated by Harry's stubbornness. Harry could see the Creatures professor's hands twitching in aggravation. The Slytherin kept his cool, waiting for a response from the person who mattered.

Trow answered, "No, Harry. You will have to wait."

Good, Harry thought. Just the answer I was expecting. He played his last card.

"Then, I'm leaving. You know damn well that you need me far more than I need you."

He turned on his heel and left, ignoring the pleas of Professor Lupin and noting the silence from Professor Trow...

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...and he would have had the last word if not for the Strategy professor.

"Harry Potter," Trow hectored. "So you really think you're ready?"

Harry stopped, his hand resting on the doorknob. He slowly turned and was surprised to find Trow had drawn his wand. Harry ostentatiously slid his hand into his robes and grasped the handle of his own wand.

"Do you think you're ready?" Trow repeated calmly, his wand loose in his hand.

Harry nodded. "I do."

Trow nodded to himself and shrugged off his outer robes. He was dressed in a collared shirt that looked oversize on his frame. The Strategy professor was frightfully thin without his robes. He loosened the tie around his neck and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Clearing his throat, Trow laid his robes on top of one of the Stationary Omnioculars.

"Come, Harry. Let me see what you have learned." Trow beckoned him forward with a flick of his wand.

Harry felt a spull on his shoulder and stumbled slightly. He immediately righted himself and raised his wand the accepted ready position. Next, he felt the familiar prong of Legilimency poking against his shields. It was weak and generalized, but Harry recognized the spell immediately. He flxed his shields and threw Trow out. His head was buzzing in disbelief. A teacher was attacking him!

"You say you are ready. Show me."

Trow stood ramrod straight. Although gaunt and pale, power nonetheless radiated from him. His presence filled the room. He seemed taller, stronger. In Harry's presence, Trow had never performed much more than a levitation spell, yet here was holding himself with the confidence of a master duelist. Trow's gray eyes were sharp and held a slight twinkle.

Lupin stepped forward and warned, "Professor! This is not a -"

Trow silenced him just by holding up one hand. Even that slight movement displayed an impressive gravitas. Never before had Harry seen this side of Trow. Trow had never exhibited any sign of magical prowess.

"If you would be so kind to set up some wards, Remus. I've noticed that Harry plays to win," Trow directed.

Harry kept his wand in a ready position, his Occlumency shields stayed poise to attack any Legilimency foray. Still, he was ill-prepared to duel - really duel - a Hogwarts professor. He had not envisioned this scenario when he entered the room just minutes ago.

"Professor, I don't know what you want me to do, but I can't duel you," Harry admitted. He did not lower his wand but pointed it away from Trow.

Trow raised an eyebrow, a smile dancing on his lips. "Even a professor that would attack you?"

The professor's wand barely moved, but Harry had to block a Stinging Hex. This time, Harry aimed his wand at the hex's source. Professor Lupin muttered curses beneath his breath as he cast defensive wards around them.

"Light wards, Remus. If Harry thinks he's ready, let us not baby him." Trow's tone was not scolding, but neither was it genial.

Harry ground his teeth, finding Trow not the least bit humorous. If the professor truly wanted to duel, Harry would oblige. It all depended just how far the professor was willing to go. Professor Lupin finished the last section of his wards. Instead of the normal dome that Snape employed during one-on-one duels, these wards were translucent, protecting only the classroom walls and its Stationary Omnioculars.

"Finished," Lupin growled, clearly unhappy.

Trow nodded ever so slightly and turned to face Harry. The professor did not assume a usual dueling pose. Instead of being poised, his feet off center, showing as little of his body as possible, Trow faced him directly with his feet square. His wand was held in front, but held it delicately as if it would snap at any moment.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Trow repeated.

Harry glowered in silence and prepared for the attack. Nothing happened.

Trow's opening ploy sought to throw Harry off by not attacking. The professor stood stationary, his muscles completely relaxed and his gaze never leaving Harry.

Ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

Thirty seconds.

Time ticked along without the slightest movement from Trow. Harry shuffled his feet, making sure to never break eye contact. Not giving away his first movement had been drilled into Harry's head since his first dueling class, but Harry wondered what Trow was playing at. Dread crawled into the pit of his stomach. Why isn't he moving? As soon as that thought passed through his mind, he cursed himself.

Of course.

Transfiguration did not require wand movements.

Harry leaped forward, barely escaping the flailing arms of a transfigured desk. Trow had animated and reshaped it into a golem, the desk's legs functioning as arms. Scrambling to his feet, Harry reduced the desk into kindling with a Reductor Curse. He had no time to breathe as a chair scuttled forward, trying to ram him. Harry dispatched that one too and finally had a moment to look up.

The room had become a transfigured house of horrors.

Almost every inanimate object had come alive. Desks, chairs - practically every unwarded object - charged at him. Some still resembled their original state. Others had transmogrified into metal and glass, making it more difficult to break them down. Harry bobbed and weaved, blasting apart anything that got too close. With this display, Harry had to wonder what Trow had been before coming to teach at Hogwarts. This level of transfiguration was spectacular, demonstrating a mastery that was not easy to attain. He doubted even Professor McGonagall could achieve such control.

As he evaded a solid metal chair, Harry glanced at Trow. Was he even breaking a sweat? The silver haired professor was relaxed, his wand swaying lightly, unmoved from his original position. He appeared a conductor with the classroom his symphony. Harry dodged the swinging arms of another desk and shot a Stunner at Trow, hoping to at least distract the professor. Trow nimbly stepped aside, moving quickly for someone his age.

"Fulminare!"

Harry's spell crackled through the air, destroying several of the attacking objects at once. Sensing an opening, he banished several of the transfigured creations in Trow's direction with a Whirlwind Charm. He focused on Trow and hesitated for a fraction of a second. What spell could he use against a teacher? Trow exploited Harry's indecisiveness and hit Harry with a spell he had never heard of before.

Harry's vision was suddenly disoriented. His world inverted, with the ceiling replacing the floor. Harry stumbled around, grabbing at his face and trying to reorient himself. His vision had obviously been flipped along the horizontal axis, but trying to make the appropriate corrections was like trying to read upside down. It just would not compute.

"Finding you still have a lot to learn, Harry?" Trow asked, staying his attack and showing mercy to his uppity student.

Trow could have, should have, finished him, but the professor was plainly trying to teach Harry a lesson. Harry staggered, his stomach churning from the visual disorientation. Trow was clearly superior. The older professor did not look the least bit tired from his transfiguration foray. Like a funambulist, Harry held his arms widely to each side, trying to make sense of this upside-down world. He was starting to get the hang of the strange orientation, but would never win the duel in this condition.

"Finite." He tried.

The counter-curse must have been something different, as Harry's had no effect. He wracked his brain for some remedy. Trow had not ended the duel as he should have, so Harry still had a way out - a chance to win.

When faced with a superior opponent, focus on your obvious strengths.

Harry could do something that he had not seen anyone else do, professor or student.

"Lux Trabem!"

The Light Beam Charm focused a continuous, coherently focused beam of light at the target. While Trow calmly brought up a Protego shield that reflected the spell, this was a spell Harry could keep on target despite the visual disorientation, and it made it difficult for his opponent to see him. He moved horizontally, making Trow move with him to maintain his shield. The spell itself was not very powerful. A simple shield deflected it easily, but the shield had to be maintained as long as the caster kept the spell up. It was generally inefficient - a defensive attack, a diversion.

What Harry was planning could be called cheating, but in this context that term was a disservice. He was merely playing to his strength, utilizing the one advantage he had.

Trow shuffled a bit to his right and to Harry's left, the Protego still blocking the continuous stream of light emitted by Harry's wand. Harry was not proud of what he was planning. It was neither honorable nor skillful. He would have been embarrassed to use it before a larger audience.

But he would win.

With his free hand, Harry curled his fingers and beckoned the object towards him. The chair behind Trow flew towards Harry, activated by the wandless Summoning Charm. It collided with the back of Trow's legs, disrupting the professor's concentration for just long enough. His Protego shield evaporated. Harry, anticipating his predicament, immediately cast an Expelliarmus. Trow's wand floated through the air and Harry caught it neatly despite his ongoing ocular impairment. It was the first time he had ever dual cast spells in a duel, and he had not been sure they would work, but Harry was satisfied with the results.

Flat on his back, Trow clapped and laughed gaily.

"To be defeated in such a manner. It has indeed been quite a while since I've dueled. Remus, if you could be so kind to cast the counter-charm on Harry," Trow requested.

His vision restored, Harry was surprised that Trow remained prone on the ground. Professor Lupin knelt down and assisted Trow into a seated position. No longer did Trow look powerful and intimidating. On felled, he reverted to his usual weak and sickly appearance. The difference was astonishing.

Trow leaned over and coughed into his hand. Red spots dotted his palm as Lupin hurriedly conjured a towel for him. He shouldn't have felt guilty, but Harry squirmed. He hadn't meant to cause any harm and hadn't even used his more dangerous curses. Expelliarmus was the only spell that actually connected.

"It seems that you are the victor, Harry," Trow wheezed through labored breaths.

Harry shook his head. "You had me beat. You should have finished me off."

"Hardly the first time someone in a superior position took time to gloat. It is not a habit you should cultivate, but do not think you will never see it in battle. The temptation can be irresistible."

Trow finally stopped coughing and regarded Harry with his silver eyes. Harry returned his steady gaze and felt a poke against his Occlumency shields. This time, he rejected the attack with barely any effort. Trow still seemed to be testing his defenses, but to what purpose?

Lupin helped Trow to his feet. The Strategy professor swayed and Lupin steadied him, concern etched on his face. Even Harry was uncomfortable watching Trow's weak recovery. Had the duel taken that much out of the professor? What state was Trow in that would produce this sort of malady? Trow's feeble health had always been a question in the back of Harry's mind, but never more pertinent than now.

"Are you okay, professor?" Harry had to ask.

Trow smiled weakly. "It has been many years since I have dueled like that, Harry. Ages ago. I'm relieved to see that I could still muster some semblance of power, but that was all my body could beare. I should be a warning to you. Respect the power of magic. Everything has its cost."

Flamel's words echoed in Harry's mind as Trow all but parroted them.

"I'm not surprised that you found a way to win. Yes, I could have disarmed you as soon as I cast that tricky spell, but you found a way despite your impairment. You have a most remarkable ability to keep cool under pressure. You do it better than almost anyone I've ever met."

"Almost." Harry caught the modifier.

Trow chuckled. "Yes. Almost. You are almost ready, Harry. Please indulge us if we don't tell you everything right away. There are things that are beyond your control and, to be frank, out of my control as well. Things in play need some time to develop. Come back next week and I promise that our lesson will be more to your liking."

Harry almost balked and accepted, but he had to press. "I want to know everything...why I have to do this."

Lupin gave an exasperated sigh, but again Trow held his hand up in silence. The slight turn of his hand was not very animated, but it held significant power behind it. Harry now had no doubt that Trow had been a man of great power. It was unfortunate that Harry, and Trow, had to use the past tense.

"When the year ends, it might well be time to fully disclose what we fear you will face. I can only ask for your patience, knowing that we do not deserve it. We're not heartless. We know we have put you through a hard time, Harry. I can only ask that you wait a little while longer for it to be the time to tell you. In the mean-time, I promise that our lessons will bear more fruit," Trow said.

It was the first time that someone from the faculty had acknowledged the purposefully hellish situations they had inflicted on Harry. Even if it wasn't what he wanted - a full disclosure of what he was meant to face - it was enough.

Harry nodded once.

Trow returned the motion in agreement.

"I'm afraid we must cut this particular lesson short. My body is not what it once was and I must see Madame Pomfrey. Repairs are also in order...obviously." Trow gestured around the destroyed classroom. The wards had protected the Stationary Omnioculars, but nothing more. The rest of the room was littered with the debris of shattered chairs and desks.

Harry left, feeling Lupin's judgement and Trow's ever steady calmness behind him. The Slytherin was tired. The day had been long and filled with revelations. All he wanted to do was return to his dormitories and collapse in his bed…

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...but Harry's day was not yet done.

Clocks told him it was just past nine. Students would still be awake.

His first stop was the Hufflepuff Common Room entrance. Harry paid a First Year two Sickles to retrieve Justin Finch-Fletchley. The sought-after Hufflepuff emerged from behind the barrels, a weary expression on his pimpled face. Harry said nothing and simply pressed a coin into Justin's hand.

Justin looked at the object curiously. In the dim light of the torches, the silver caught the light just right. Harry gestured at it silently with his wand, then retrieved a similar looking coin from his own pocket. Harry inscribed a word onto his own Sickle, and they both saw the same words appear on Justin's Sickle. The Hufflepuff's eyes widened at the implications and opened his mouth to speak.

Harry tapped Justin's lips with his wand, silencing him. The Slytherin shook his head and pointed at the Sickle again.

"Pay attention. I will need you soon."

He left, leaving Justin flabbergasted by the encounter.

Tired from climbing the stairs and still feeling residual fatigue from his duel with Trow, Harry's mind could have wandered, but he did not lower his guard. He would never forget the night it had started between him and Snape. The deed was done via proxy, but the four attackers were still Snape personified. It should have been safe within the walls of Hogwarts, but Harry understood that was just another false assumption. He eyes roved the hallways, patrolling the dark corners for any would be attackers.

It only made the journey to the Gryffindor tower more arduous.

Harry inscribed a note into his Sickle and waited outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. That portrait tried to shoo him away, but he paid her no attention. Hermione emerged through the portrait hole, her body language flashing annoyance. If surprised to see him, she did not show it.

"You know that you shouldn't be here...waiting outside of the Fat Lady...for me of all people," she spoke as if he were a backward First Year.

He shrugged, tired of having to hide in corners just to talk to her.

"I need your help," he said.

"That much is obvious, but for what?" Hermione asked, demanding more facts.

"Next week, I have an extra class with Professors Trow and Lupin. I need you to come with me."

"Why?"

"Because I can't do it alone anymore."

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A/N: Projected update time - 29 days

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