A/N: Okay people, can I suggest that we all take a deep breath and calm down. Some of the reviewers are getting a little animated with each other. Neo, thanks for the praise but Dragonmaster has the right to give his outtake on what he thinks of the story (I presume it's a he, but you never know. You have no idea how many people think I'm a female). Cheers for that review Dragonmaster. I'll try to clear up most of the points you raised in this story, although I'll say that the gold thing was a mistake and the height thing- well, honestly, I don't see why it's such a big deal.
“I didn't do it,” was the first thing that escaped Harry's mouth as he strode into Dumbledore's office that morning. “And seriously, this is the third time we've met in two days. If you're trying some kind of last-century speed-dating…well, you can forget about it. My arse is taught and that's the way it's going to remain.”
Dumbledore, for his part, raised an eyebrow in Harry's direction and steepled his fingers together. For the most part he looked completely relaxed, but Harry could see that beyond his polite smile and twinkling eyes, the other wizard was angry.
'Angry?' Meciel murmured. 'I'm thinking more along the lines of 'pissed off' would be correct.'
“Didn't do what, Harry?” Dumbledore inquired politely, absently brushing down his long purple and silver robes. With his mismatched socks and overly large wizards hat, he looked quite ridiculous.
“Do whatever it is that made you call me up here,” Harry said and took a step forward. He gave a half-hearted wave to the portraits, many of whom scowled back at him and shook their fists. “Long time no see, fellows. How's it hanging?”
“Why, you cheeky little…” one of the portraits, a wizened old wizard with an extremely long beard and peculiarly big ears grumbled loudly.
“See, Dumbledore,” Harry said as he sat down, a little smile on his face. “I just made a wisecrack there while appearing to be polite. How's it hanging…and they're paintings...get it?”
“Are you aware of what you have done?” Dumbledore asked quietly.
“Well, gee,” Harry said after a moment, blinking languidly. “I didn't know it meant so much to you. If you want, I could apologise to Professor Big-Ears over there, but I think he might know that you're making me do it, since he's listening to every word I'm saying. Isn't that right, Headmaster Wedge-Nut?”
“Harry…” Dumbledore began with a sigh.
“You know what we should get him for Christmas?” Harry continued, eying the furious wizard beyond the portrait shrewdly. “A spanner. That way we could tighten those bolts and maybe his brain will stop leaking out onto his beard- oh, wait, that's just old man drool.”
“You can not delay the inevitable,” Dumbledore said after a moment's pause. He leaned back in his chair and regarded Harry over his glasses, looking grave. “I know you left the school last night. I know it was right after the rather heated discussion we had- the one where I cautioned you against imitating Death Eater attacks. I know you ignored my warnings and proceeded to attack the Leaky Cauldron in the guise of a Death Eater. I know you returned back to Hogwarts seventeen minutes after the Aurors drove you away.”
“Had to apparate a few more times for security and crap,” Harry shrugged carelessly, not looking at all bothered. “And they didn't drive me away- I left at my own convenience. Seriously Dumbledore, if those Aurors are the best you've got then no wonder Voldemort's kicking your arse.”
“One was Auror Trainee Nymphadora Tonks, a valued member of the Order of Phoenix.” Dumbledore said, a tad sharply. “You might be pleased to know that she suffered no permanent injury, just a mild concussion.”
“Of course she didn't,” Harry scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I was gentle on them. They were really quite pathetic, to be honest.”
Dumbledore said nothing but peered at Harry with an indecipherable expression on his face. Harry couldn't tell if he was disappointed, angry, saddened or even- was that satisfaction that Harry had just spotted?
“You are quite powerful, Harry,” Dumbledore said so abruptly that Harry blinked. “And your level of skill with a wand for somebody your age is remarkable. You are far better than I was with curses when I was your age.”
“Um…thanks?” Harry offered hesitantly, looking confused and suspicious at the sudden praise. “But seriously, Dumbledore, it takes more than a few pick-up lines to get into my pants.”
“However,” Dumbledore continued, as if Harry hadn't spoken. “You are not the most powerful, nor the most skilled wizard in the world. You yourself should know this. You have met enemies and allies that have far exceeded you in power and skill.”
“Some, maybe,” Harry said slowly, narrowing his eyes.
“Many,” Dumbledore disagreed quietly. “There is myself, who, with false modesty aside, is one of the most powerful wizards that this world has seen for quite some time. There is Maeve, although I doubt you could call her a true ally. Her powers lie beyond mine and her nature knows nothing of humanity. There are the Knights, who had skills that seemed to bypass the magic of even the most powerful of wizards. Then there are your enemies; Lord Voldemort, who has powers and talents that I could only dream of, The Merlin of the White Council, a truly formidable wizard if what I have heard is true, Vesper of the Denarians…”
“Whoa,” Harry interrupted quickly, a scowl forming on his face. He raised his hands, shaking them to make Dumbledore stop. “Let's get a few things straight. The Knights aren't going to hurt me- I'm one of them now, and Vesper may be older than I am and have a little more skill, but I'm definitely more powerful than she is.”
“Even so…” Dumbledore said evenly.
“And,” Harry continued, a scowl forming on his face. “You can't guilt me out by reading the top-ten list of the most powerful people in the world. At least make it the top-twenty. I did knock off Nicodemus, a Drakon and Azzeh- that's gotta make me number eleven, at least.”
“There is a vast difference between number eleven and number one,” Dumbledore noted.
“Yeah, it's ten,” Harry muttered sourly, folding his arms. He levelled a challenging stare at Dumbledore, ignoring the way the other wizard's eyes had hardened, ignoring the way the other wizard's eyes had hardened. “I couldn't help but notice that you didn't included 'Aurors' on that little list of yours, so you really can't dispute me on this. There was no way that they were going to catch me.”
“You do not realise the damage you have done,” Dumbledore said and stood abruptly. His eyes were focussed on Fawkes and he absently stroked her rich plumage. Harry noted the classic inhuman stare of the Fae in the bird's eyes and made a face as Dumbledore continued. “I thought we had agreed that neither of us would act in such a manner before I had given it some serious thought.”
“No, no, no,” Harry uttered quickly and shook his head. “We didn't agree. You,” and here he jabbed his finger at Dumbledore, “ordered me not to do anything so that you could think about. But Meciel and I both agreed that you could go fuck a goat and did it anyway.”
“You do not understand Lord Voldemort's nature,” Dumbledore said, taking a deep breath and idly stroking Fawkes again. “I have studied and witnessed his tactics and methods. There are specialists in the Ministry of Magic who have also studied his tactics to a great extent.
“So?” Harry asked, rolling his eyes in exasperation.
“Lord Voldemort's methods are subtle,” Dumbledore continued and turned back to Harry, his eyes hard. “You were anything but. Lord Voldemort has a purpose behind every raid. You had none. Lord Voldemort makes sure that his servants never operate in small numbers. You were alone.”
“Alright, alright,” Harry snapped. “I get the picture. At least I'm doing something. The Ministry can't be fucked getting off its high horse and just what exactly has your Order been doing again?”
“We are doing much the same as Voldemort is doing,” Dumbledore replied patiently. “We are increasing our numbers, gathering vital information, preparing ourselves for the inevitable conflict and safe-guarding certain weapons and information that Lord Voldemort desires.”
“Well, it's good that you're doing something useful,” Harry said sarcastically. “You know, if you give me a list of wizards you know as Death Eaters then I can get rid of them for you- for a price, of course.”
“I don't think we're quite there yet, Harry,” Dumbledore said quietly. “But once again, we have gotten off topic. We are here to discuss your actions last night.”
“It could have worked,” Harry protested quickly, looking stubborn and refusing to budge. He crossed his arms and settled back into the chair. “If it weren't for you, it just might have. I mean, without you here, I would have killed everybody and made it more convincing.”
“I'm glad to see that I'm having such a strong impact on your life,” Dumbledore said, almost dryly.
“Sarcasm doesn't suit you,” Harry grumbled. “It's all this Sirius Black's fault. Who is that bastard anyway? He sounds familiar.”
“Familiar?” Dumbledore echoed softly and his gaze went distant, retreating into the far depths of his mind. “I suppose it might be. You did see him quite a lot when you were a baby.”
“What?” Harry asked in confusion.
“Sirius Black is the great injustice that I was referring to,” Dumbledore said quietly, ignoring Harry's question and focussing his penetrating stare back on Harry, who stood steadfast and refused to budge. He stroked his beard and moved away from Fawkes to sit back down behind his desk. ”Sirius Black did not commit these crimes, yet the world now thinks he did. Is that fair, Harry?”
“Crimes,” Harry repeated slowly, his mind whirling as Meciel pushed some long, almost-forgotten memory towards him. He grasped it and suddenly it hit him. “Hang on, he's that murderer! I remember somebody telling me last year….he broke out of Azkaban and…came here, right?”
“He is a convicted murderer, yes,” Dumbledore answered slowly. He peered at Harry carefully and the Denarian caught a glimpse of hesitation on the older Headmasters part. In a split second, it had gone and Dumbledore seemed to have made a decision.
“Ah well,” Harry shrugged carelessly, not looking at all bothered. “So he gets a few assault and battery charges laid against him.... and destruction of property too, I guess.”
“Attempted murder,” Dumbledore supplied. “You apparently tried to cast a Killing Curse at somebody.”
“Well, Meciel wouldn't let me kill anybody so I had to be inventive,” Harry explained. “Anyway, he's killed thirteen people already. He'll get over these little crimes sooner or later.”
“Do you know one of the people he is convicted of murdering was a wizard named Peter Pettigrew?” Dumbledore asked, as if imparting a great secret that Harry was not privy too.
“Did you know that seven people died in penguin attacks this century?” Harry supplied and gave a sarcastic grin. “Isn't it great? We're both masters of useless information.”
“Peter Pettigrew is also known as Wormtail, a prominent Death Eater that I believe you've already met,” Dumbledore continued.
Harry stilled, his smile suddenly becoming bland but his eyes glinting. Anger rushed at him, anger and a need for vengeance as he absently fingered the faint scar over his face. He knew Wormtail- it was his visions that he kept seeing.
“Wormtail,” he said mildly, as if he were discussing the weather. “One day I'm going to have to kill that man in an excruciatingly painful manner.”
“Sirius is an innocent man, Harry, and a valued member of my Order,” Dumbledore said gravely. “The people he is accused of murdering were all slain by Peter's wand. You have just made it harder for him to clear his name.”
“So?” Harry scoffed carelessly. “That's not my problem.”
“I see,” Dumbledore said quietly and steepled his fingers, staring at Harry over his glasses. “Is that how you truly feel?”
“I thought I told you, Dumbledore,” Harry started, rolling his eyes as he lifted himself from his seat. “I only care about a few people in this miserable little world. I'm one of them, Meciel's the other and Black will find himself nowhere on the list.”
“That's a very heartless attitude,” Dumbledore noted quietly, remaining in his seat.
“It's a realistic attitude,” Harry disagreed with a snort. “And it's helped me stay on top of things for the last seven years.” He folded his arms and gave Dumbledore a challenging look. “Was there anything else or can I go now? I have Transfiguration and McGonagall is pulling the 'I'm cranky because nothing with a respectable dick size will sleep with me' routine. Really, it's getting old.”
“A little respect will go a long way, Harry,” Dumbledore said with wearied resignation.
“You have my respect, Dumbledore,” Harry said bluntly and smiled thinly. “You've earned it. Nobody else here has.”
Harry turned and strode across the room to open the door. Just as he was about to descend the staircase, Dumbledore's voice drifted forward and halted him in his tracks.
“From this moment on, as long as you are a member of this institution, you will not be allowed to set foot off these premises,” he said severely, his voice brooking no argument. “I will adjust the wards accordingly. We are allies, Harry. Allies need to work together and cooperate.”
“Let's just hope that Voldemort and Vesper have a relationship as 'good' as ours,” Harry retorted sarcastically without turning around. “If they do, they'll be at each other's throats already. Hell, maybe they'll off each one another for us.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” Dumbledore remarked dryly.
“Oh, don't be a paedophile,” Harry muttered and took a few steps down, before pausing. He turned his head and called back, “Pessimist. I meant pessimist, honestly.”
After his meeting with Dumbledore, Harry had both Transfiguration and then Charms. Amanda sat down by his side as usual and for once Harry didn't mind, quite content to be peering at her work to help him get a grip on his own. Sure, he knew over two-dozen different ways to kill a man with his wand but for the life of him, he couldn't even fathom how to use a switching spell. Still, McGonagall had been reluctantly impressed with his progress, especially considering that he had been having problems trying to transfigure a match to a needle last year, and she declared him to be more or less equal to a well-rounded fifth year, maybe even slightly ahead of most of them.
Charms had been a little bit of a bother for Harry. Unlike Transfiguration, Harry hadn't been practising any schoolyard charms. Sure, he did know a few household spells, mainly to wash his dishes and sweep the dust off his summoning circle (because any flaws could have resulted in a loose demon or faery and Harry really hadn't wanted to chase, or be chased by, a hyperactive Cess yet again) but that was about it. This was why Harry spent the majority of Charms staring dully at the blackboard as Professor Flitwick instructed the class in some kind of advanced expanding charm.
'Come on,' Harry thought dully, his head resting on his open palms. Sitting on his desk, Meciel's illusion glanced down at him and cocked her head. 'You're not bored or anything?'
“Knowledge is power,” Meciel said simply. “You need not pay attention but I shall. I know that you can't cast any of these spells.”
'Do you know that I don't want to?' Harry thought derisively, staring around the class as the students continually flicked their wands, their faces scrunched up in concentration as they murmured Latin incantations. 'I'll file these charms as 'spells I want to use in battle when I want to be killed or kicked in the face'.'
Of all of the students, only Hermione was making any kind of progress, sticking her entire arm into a small pouch no bigger than a wallet with a pleased expression on her face. When she caught his eye, however, she huffed and glanced away. She had chosen to sit next to Amanda, who had chosen to sit next to Harry.
“What's your problem?” Harry grunted, lazing back in his chair and looking extremely relaxed. “Is this about Krum?”
“Don't say his name,” Hermione hissed over the general din of the classroom. Amanda, stuck between the two, looked extremely awkward as the two spoke over her head.
“Why not?” Harry asked and smiled as Hermione's face flickered with anger. Malicious amusement rushed through him as he continued, lowering his voice until it was barely a whisper. “Here, I'll say it again. Krum. Krum is Krum. Krum tried to cheat me out of the cup. Krum was killed by a Death Eater. I don't particularly give a shit that Krum died…”
“How dare…” Hermione started, her voice rising up into a shrill as she levelled his wand at him. But Harry's wand was suddenly in his hand and despite his relaxed state, he looked extremely confident as he stared Hermione down with an amused smile.
“Hermione,” Amanda hissed, shooting Harry a reproachful glare. “He didn't mean it. Lower you wand.” Hermione was shaking but she lowered her arm down as Amanda whispered soothing words into her ear. “He's insensitive…he's dealing with it in his own way…c'mon, would Viktor want you to act like this…that's it….that's better…”
'Can you imagine her in a fight?' Harry thought idly, twirling his wand in his right hand. A few crimson and black sparks shot out and Amanda, frowning as she flicked her wand, gave a yelp as one of them grazed her arm, turning her wounded expression onto Harry for a few moments, before sighing and turning away. 'It'll be like 'Oh, wait, please Mr. Death Eater, I'm going to cast a expansion charm on you…now just wait one minute, the Killing Curse is illegal…how dare you try to kill me…you have some nerve…''
“Do you ever listen to yourself speak?” Meciel asked with wry amusement and Harry shrugged, ignoring Amanda as she turned back to him with a pointed expression on her face.
“I try not to,” he muttered out loud.
It was after Charms that Harry, with vestiges of Dumbledore's conversation flittering through his mind, decided to skip lunch and take a closer look at the books that Dumbledore had given him. Waving a slightly disappointed Amanda off, Harry strolled through the hallways and approached the Gryffindor Tower. Malfoy was heading another way with two large, extremely ugly boys flanking him, but before the alabaster-skinned boy could say anything, Harry had cut him off.
“You know, Malfoy, after meeting you I've decided that I'm in favour of abortion in cases of incest,” Harry said cheerfully, not even missing a beat as he strolled past the gaping Slytherin. Malfoy blinked in surprise and stared as Harry turned a corner, his voice growing more and more distant. “I guess I'm in favour of abortion altogether, so go doctors, use your rusty coat hangers and kick the crap out of the little foetuses…”
A few minutes later, Harry sprawled out on his newly appointed bed in the Gryffindor Tower and picked up one of the ancient-looking tomes that Dumbledore had given him. He idly flicked to a random page, his eyebrows rising and a distinctively impressed expression crossing his face as he saw several interesting and powerful spells flying on the pages. A crudely sketched hand made very slow movement in the right hand corner while there were rows of writing scrawled to the left. There seemed to be two distinct styles, one had been written in a loopy scrawl and the other in block print. Some of the writing was a description for the spell, while others seemed to pertain to the advanced magical theory behind it. Advanced Arithmancy equations sprung out at him, making absolutely no sense to him whatsoever.
“Fiendfyre, the Transmogrifian Torture Curse….what's this, Necromancy?” Harry mumbled to himself, his eyes raking over the heading. “How to create an Inferius…”
“A type of zombie, I believe,” Meciel said, her illusion suddenly appearing as she perched over his shoulder, looking at the pages with interest. “They are slow but resistant to many forms of magic. I believe you'd like fighting them- they absolutely hate fire.”
“Huh,” Harry grunted, flipping another page over as he browsed the book.
Excitement and anticipation arose within him. It was as if Dumbledore had just handed him, a small child, the keys to the toy store- a store that housed real flamethrowers. The pages seemed to be never-ending and he saw more and more potentially devastating spells. Not all seemed to be combat orientated; there were some wards and defensive spells that he had never seen before. Words such as Anti-Apparation, Repulsion and Fidelius sprang out at him. There were sections on self-transfiguration, ward-breaking, conjuration, advanced animation, spells to conceal yourself, spells to conceal others, spells to mend bones, dull pain and even replace limbs. There was a large section on ancient runes of old, a section that Meciel scoffed at, partly because of her derision of such archaic forms of magic and partly because she had been ancient herself when these runes had been invented. Harry flipped to the back of the book and saw an immense section on advanced Arithmancy, small, faded writing detailing the technical aspects of spell-casting; how incantations and wand movements affected magic and so forth.
“Of everything here, this is the most useful,” Meciel murmured, her eyes narrowed as she literally committed everything Harry saw to her vast memory. Harry could feel her working through the contents of the page at that moment and flipped it over, allowing her to memorise that one as well, then the next, and the next.
“I dunno,” Harry muttered, flicking back to the page entitled 'Fiendfyre'. “This looks pretty cool.”
“Once I have deciphered the Arithmancy, there is a good chance that I can begin designing and creating spells for you,” Meciel said, looking almost gleeful at the prospect. Her silver eyes danced and she placed a warm hand on Harry's shoulder. “I will admit, beloved, I have a few good ideas already.”
“Of course you do,” Harry muttered absently as he flicked through the pages. He was at page number nine hundred and something before he finally reached the end, a blank page marred only by a furious signature of 'AD + GG'.
The book was a treasure trove of knowledge- one that seemed to have been partly written in the same loopy writing that Harry had seen in Dumbledore's office. His respect and wariness for the man grew even further as he turned back to the middle of the book, opening it up at a random page.
“I'm impressed,” Meciel murmured. “Dumbledore is bound to know everything written in this book and, by the looks of it, seems to have contributed quite a bit to its creation.”
“Yeah, yeah, he's awesome,” Harry muttered distractedly, suddenly focussed on a page that dealt with alchemy. The idea of a philosopher's stone was suddenly buzzing in his mind and a shrewd smile crossed his lips. Unlimited gold…
“Remember to be careful,” Meciel warned quietly and Harry blinked, turning his head and staring up at the illusion that was perched on his pillows. She looked both serious and thoughtful. “Dumbledore has given you this information for a reason. There is nothing selfless behind his motives because nobody is selfless. There's a reason he wants you to know this?”
“Blackmail?” Harry hazarded a guess, but frowned. “Nah, he doesn't need to give me this for that. He knows a lot about me already.”
“He wants you to become stronger,” Meciel mused quietly, brushing down the wrinkles in her silver and white robes.
“Because we're both enemies against Voldemort?” Harry offered hesitantly, shifting on his four-poster bed.
“Possible,” Meciel admitted carefully, looking thoughtful. “He could be forging you into a potent weapon against his enemy.”
“Our enemy,” Harry reminded wryly.
“He could be passing his knowledge to you as his successor,” Meciel said but her lips twitched when Harry snorted loudly. “Although I doubt it.“
“Who cares about his intentions right now?” Harry dismissed and turned back to the book, a greedy look in his eyes as he poured over a potentially devastating spell that had once been used to crucify the enemies of the Romans. “This book is better than gold…hey, do you think that this spell would be sacrilegious?”
“Always so eager to rush into things,” Meciel murmured fondly, smoothing back his hair with a warm hand as Harry pulled his wand from his robes with a speculative look on his face.
“I'll leave patience to you,” Harry said with a hint of a smile. “Seeing as how you're so good at it.”
“Do you really think so?” Meciel asked.
“Well, I'm not dead yet,” Harry said wryly.
“Point taken.”