A/N: The first part of this chapter comes from a little snippet of one of Jon's omakes. He did the Harry/Meciel characterisation and so forth better in those few hundred words than I've done for the last few chapters- at least. With his permission, I've added a bit in, so he's the deceleration saying he's cool and thanks. He'll never shut up about it now, though it's sad that he's getting better at the characterisation than I am. On that note, I'd like the thank everybody who helps me out with this story, especially Jon and nuhuh, who I'm repeatedly bouncing ideas off and have the amazing ability to inspire me to write, and the guys at DLP who help with corrections and point out when I screw up- which, frankly, is a lot more than you realise.
Harry only spent one more day in that dreary old house- Grimmauld Place number 12, from what the little slip of paper told him; Meciel had been quite impressed with the illusionary charms that hid the place- before Dumbledore took him and the rest of the Hogwarts students back to the castle. The rest of the holidays were spent at Hogwarts and he spent most of his time lounging around, when Meciel wasn't pressing him to hone his magical abilities. There were very few students who bothered him during this time. The Weasley boys and girl generally avoided him- the boys seemed to be giving him a grudging respect for saving their father and the girl trying to fight back whatever physical attraction she felt for him with a feisty attitude. Amanda, the only other person who might have bothered him, had gone home for the holidays and Harry took the time to enjoy the solitude that he so rarely received at Hogwarts. But the holidays were over after a few weeks and the rest of the students came back to Hogwarts as classes started up once more.
It was hot.
That was all Harry could say as he drifted inwards to the inner plans of his consciousness. The din and bustle of the outside world was faint as if it were miles and miles away- although truthfully, his physical body was sitting in the Great Hall during breakfast. His mental self lay on his back, his head in Meciel's lap as she idly stroked his hair. All around them, the desert blistered and scorched everything it touched, and Harry let out a sigh of contentment as Meciel blocked out the more painful aspects of the desert environment and just left him with the comfortable heat.
“This is way better than snow,” he murmured. He glanced around the arid stretch of land, noting faint mountains in the distance. “Where is this place, anyway?”
“Close to Egypt,” Meciel said quietly. “This is where my fourth host died- quite painfully, I might add.”
“Fourth host,” Harry said interestedly. “That's going a while back.”
“Indeed,” Meciel said.
With a small gesture of her hand, a group of people suddenly appeared amongst the red hot sands. A small woman, looking as if she were in her early twenties, was panting and gasping on the ground as she feebly tried to crawl forward. She was dressed in skimpy leathers and a large spear protruded from her side, precious blood leaking onto the sandy ground. The tallest of the armada of leather-armoured men around her pulled at the spear and the woman gasped, her eyes widening with pain as the barbed head brutally torn out of her. A moment later, with blood bubbling at her lips, she fell unconscious just as the first of the men began to take off his armour.
“A most painful death for both of us, Harry” Meciel said detachedly, watching the spectacle in front of her with cool silver eyes. She waved her hand and the figures disappeared in a whirlwind of sand, leaving nothing behind to signify what Harry had just seen. “One of the worst, I believe.”
“I bet,” Harry muttered. He was frowning and he gazed up at Meciel's face, her pale skin radiant with a silver glow that Harry knew she had placed there to put him at ease. “You know, I've been wondering why you don't call me 'beloved' anymore.”
Meciel smiled faintly.
“Because you are no longer a child who needs to suckle at my breast for reassurance,” Meciel explained airily. Harry smirked and opened his mouth, but Meciel moved her hand and brought it to his lips, cutting him off. “I believe the irritant is desperately clamouring for your attention.”
Harry rolled his eyes but pulled himself out of his mind and back into reality. The soft din in the background suddenly rolled over his ears in waves of noise and he winced, opening his eyes and blinking rapidly as he glanced around the Great Hall.
“Harry?” Amanda asked hesitantly, biting her lip and absently flicking her blonde hair out of her eyes. The two were seated at the Gryffindor table, Harry being as far away from everybody else as he could manage and Amanda faithfully sticking by his side as ever. “Can I ask you a favour?”
“If you want to see me naked, then the answer is yes,” Harry said leeringly and wagged his eyebrows as he reached down and took a bite out of his breakfast toast.
'I can imagine you on the cover of Playboy and Penthouse,' Meciel mused thoughtfully and Harry caught a flash of an image- a picture of him covered in leather straps and not much else. He shuddered.
'They're male magazines,' he thought sardonically. 'I know I'm sexy, but I'm not that sexy.'
He refocussed his eyes back on Amanda who, to her credit, didn't blush- quite used to Harry's perverted innuendo and outright statements by now.
“It's about the DA,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper and darting her eyes about, as if there were a hundred different people who wanted to know her secret. The rest of the Hall seemed to disagree with her and continued to chatter away about stuff that Harry really didn't give a damn about.
“The what?” Harry asked and frowned. He pushed Amanda away from him and shook his head, feeling a pang of annoyance. “And don't do that. It looks as if you have something secret to hide from everybody else and if you do, well, then it's a pain in the arse when people know you do because it's hard to pretend that you don't.”
“I…think I understand that,” Amanda said slowly, her eyes darting from side to side as she tried to puzzle it out. “Maybe.”
“Good,” Harry praised and took another bite of his toast. He flashed Amanda a sarcastic smile. “It shows that you're not that blonde after all.”
“What is it with you and my hair colour?” Amanda asked in exasperation, gingerly touching her strands. “I don't see why it's that bad. I think I have nice hair.”
“Blondes are dumb,” Harry replied and paused. “So are brunettes. We should definitely add redheads to that list as well. In fact, let's say that all people with hair are dumb unless they're me.”
'I'm sorry; you were saying brunettes were what?' Meciel asked.
'Brunette mortals,' Harry interjected calmly with a mental shake of his head. 'You're so defensive, Meciel. It's a sign of insecurity. You should look into that.'
'Little smartarse,' Meciel muttered but Harry could feel her amusement.
“What about Dumbledore?” Amanda asked with raised eyebrows. She folded her arms and glanced over at the aged Headmaster, who greeted her with a nod as he met her eyes- as if he had heard her from all the way at the staff table. “He's got hair. Do you think he's dumb?”
“What the hell is it with people asking me about that wrinkled rapist?” Harry grumbled sourly. “Besides, it's a wig.”
“Dumbledore wears a wig?” Amanda exclaimed in astonishment.
Harry held back a bark of laughter as she turned her head to gaze at the Headmaster, who was conversing politely with Professor Umbridge.
“Oh yeah,” Harry lied sincerely, an honest expression on his face. He nodded earnestly at Amanda's sceptical expression. “Seriously.”
'Let's make a bet,' Meciel said slyly. 'I'll let you see me naked if you convince her to say that to the old man's face.'
'Yeah, sure you will,' Harry scoffed and paused. 'Wait, are you serious?'
Meciel didn't reply and Harry grinned, staring at Amanda and wondering if he could pull it off.
“Right,” Amanda said slowly, then paused and shook her head. “Now I can't remember what I wanted to ask you- yes, yes,” she snapped when Harry opened his mouth, a pleased expression on his face. “I get it. I'm a blonde.”
“It's good that you admit that,” Harry said gravely and placed a hand on her shoulder, fixing a sympathetic expression on his face. “Now the healing can begin.”
“You are such an ass,” Amanda said, shaking her head as a smile tugged at her lips.
“Arse, you illiterate yank,” Harry corrected and smiled at her withering look. He took his hand off her shoulder and dug back into his breakfast, wolfing through a pile of toast in less than a minute.
“Oh, the DA,” Amanda said and darted her eyes around. “We've sort of hit a bit of a dead end. Hermione's good at getting the theory behind the spells and we're getting pretty good at casting them, including some of the ones you've taught me. But I've seen you fight before and when I look at us, I know we're not nearly as good as we need to be.”
“Amanda, you'll never be as good as I am,” Harry said lazily, poking at the scrambled eggs on his plate with a fork. He lifted his eyes towards the ceiling and, after seeing a roof full of stormy clouds, sighed. “I hate the fucking snow.”
“If we could be just a quarter as good as you are then we'd be a lot safer,” Amanda pressed on urgently and Harry smiled arrogantly, nodding his head.
“You might even be able to take on Death Eaters,” Harry said with a grin. He cracked his neck and took a sip from his goblet. “But you're not a quarter as good as I am, so I suppose you'll all be killed. Woe is you.”
“Help us then,” Amanda pleaded softly and Harry blinked. “We have a session tonight. Just come in and give us a few pointers on our technique.”
“Um…no,” Harry said after a moment, pausing to take a sip of from goblet and not looking bothered at all as Amanda gaped at him.
“Why not?” She asked.
“Oh, I don't know,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. He lifted a hand and began counting the reasons out on his fingers. “I'm lazy, you're not good enough, too much effort, can't be bothered, you people annoy me, I don't want to…take your pick.”
“Please, Harry?” Amanda said softly and placed a hesitant hand on Harry's back, making his head shoot up and his eyes narrow dangerously. “For me?”
“Oh, well, in that case…” Harry began with an encouraging smile. He turned towards Amanda, who had a smile creeping over her face. “No.” he finished flatly.
“Come on,” Amanda protested, but she was cut short when a loud, piercing shriek filled the Great Hall.
Harry's gaze, as well as most other students, shot to the entrance of the Great Hall, where a stumbling and hiccuping woman was staggering her way through. It only took him a moment to recognise the woman as Professor Trelawney, the divination Professor. Her robes were wrinkled and old, she clutched a bottle of something that was obviously alcohol in her hand and her eyes were wide and bloodshot behind her crooked spectacles. Behind her, Professor Umbridge was watching with a wide smile on her slack face. She schooled her expression into one of mild disapproval and tutted loudly.
“Professor Trelawney,” she said in a loud simpering voice, brandishing a scroll with a string of red silk tied around it. “I thought I had made myself clear. Your services are no longer required at Hogwarts for the present moment. If you wish to appeal my decision, you are free to lodge a complaint with the Department of Magical Employment Services. However, until such time that the appeal has passed on to an advisory council…”
“Oh, shut up you wrinkled old toad!” Trelawney screeched loudly. She stook a swig from the bottle and with hatred distorting her normally misty features, she threw the bottle at Umbridge. Umbridge's eyes widened and she ducked, clasping her little pink feathered hat on her head.
“Why, I never!” Umbridge said, her flabby face flickering with anger. She pulled out a short stubby wand from her pink cardigan, a determined expression on her face. “Stupefy!”
A bright flash of crimson light spat towards Trelawney, who could only stand there and blink owlishly. Dumbledore, however, had risen to his feet, his own wand in hand- there was a flash of light, something silver collided with the stunning spell and dragged it towards the ceiling, where it crashed in a shower of sparks. Umbridge was suddenly looking uncertain as Dumbledore briskly strode across the hall, his eyes hard and his expression displeased.
“Huh,” Harry said in mild interest, taking a bite out of a slice of toast. He watched as Dumbledore approached the two witches, placing a gnarled hand on Trelawney's shoulder and staring down at Umbridge, who immediately puffed up and started muttering in a low voice. “This should be good.”
“How do you just eat when a teacher is being thrown out?” Amanda hissed at him indignantly, glaring daggers at the stout Defence Professor, who was being guided out of the Great Hall by Dumbledore as they conversed in low mutters.
“What, is that rude or something?” Harry asked with a scowl. “Am I supposed to share my half-eaten toast with her?” He made a face and adopted a high-pitched tone as he continued. “Oh, hey, sorry about your being fired but I have something that will make you feel all better- here, have some toast!”
Amanda ground her teeth and made a huffing noise, folding her arms and looking away as Harry grinned. He took the last bite of his breakfast then pushed the plate away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and frowning in thought.
“Okay,” he said after a moment.
“Okay what?” Amanda asked, glancing back at him curiously.
“Okay, I'll do the lecture thingy you want,” Harry said and watched as Amanda's face broke out into a beautiful smile. “But only if you do something for me…”
A few minutes later, Harry watched as Dumbledore strode back into the Great Hall and turned to Amanda. He gave her an encouraging nod and scowled when she hesitated, the blonde biting her lip in thought as she weighed up the pros and cons. Finally, she stood up and after taking a deep breath to gather her resolve, she walked over to the staff table and stopped in front of Dumbledore. Harry leaned forward with an intent expression on his face, narrowing his eyes in concentration as Amanda spoke up.
“Professor Dumbledore,” he heard her say and then pause as Dumbledore looked down at her with twinkling eyes. “Where…um…where do…”
Amanda broke off, flinging her head around and glaring at Harry furiously, her grey eyes pleading with him to change his mind. Harry shook his head smugly and folded his arms as Amanda turned back to Dumbledore with a defeated sigh.
“Where do you buy your wigs from, sir?” She asked dully. “I only ask because I've been…” she paused and frowned, reciting the words carefully as if she were afraid she'd forget, “…meaning to get one for my Wicked-Witch-Of-The-West Halloween costume.”
Harry sniggered loudly as Amanda's cheeks flushed red. Despite McGonagall's gasp and the chuckles from the students that had heard her, Dumbledore merely smiled down at her and said something too inaudible for Harry to hear, had he been paying attention to her. Instead, he gave another bark of laughter as Meciel grumbled in his ear.
'I believe you owe me a certain something?' Harry thought smugly.
'I should have known,' Meciel said with a faint sense of exasperation.
Harry frowned and heaved a mental sigh as he gazed around the large room. There were books crammed into shelves lined up against the wall and several dozen different objects cluttered small tables. The centre of the room was crowded with at least twenty-five students, all who were watching him expectantly as he stood before them.
'Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all,' Harry thought wryly.
'You've dug your hole,' Meciel pointed out with an air of amusement
“Okay,” Harry said loudly, clearing his throat and scratching his head awkwardly. Two dozen students followed his every move as he paced on the small stage before them, eyes expectant. “Um…what do you know so far?”
“We all know Petrificus Totalus, Tarantallegra and Rictusempra,” Hermione told him neutrally. The hatred that she had held against him seemed to have died down over time and now she regarded him with a blank expression. “We're making good progress with Protego and Stupefy, and the advanced ones are up to Plecto.”
“You're kidding me, right?” Harry asked with a snort of disbelief. When Hermione frowned in confusion, he sighed and shook his head, suddenly feeling very weary. “Okay, those spells suck. Sure, Protego is good as a basic shielding charm and Stupefy can be useful but overall, they're pretty pathetic spells. Hell, the best one there is Plecto and any wizard worth his wand can deflect that.”
There were mutters and grumblings from the group of students and Hermione frowned, putting her hands on her hips. Harry noticed her disgruntled expression and smiled arrogantly, beckoning her forward.
“Okay,” he said and pulled out his wand, holding it loosely in his hand. “Duel me.”
“What?” Hermione exclaimed loudly. She threw a furtive look at Amanda, who winced, already knowing what was going to happen next. “Are you serious?”
“C'mon, if you want me to give you pointers then I've got to see how you fight,” Harry said and rolled his eyes. Hermione huffed in annoyance but she stepped forward, climbing up on the stage and pulling out her wand from her robes.
“On three?” she asked briskly.
Harry just stared at her, suddenly certain that she was truly an idiot. He turned his head to the crowd and sought for Amanda, giving her an incredulous and disgusted look. Just what had she been teaching these idiots?
“Okay, first mistake right there,” Harry said, his eyes still locked on to Amanda's embarrassed gaze. “Here I am, your enemy, so to speak, with my attention elsewhere. What aren't you doing?”
“We haven't started yet!” Hermione protested and scowled. “And that's dirty fighting!”
“We're not Slytherins,” somebody from the crowd called out and there was a rumble of approval from most of the students.
“Yeah, I noticed,” Harry remarked sourly. “They'd have the balls to attack me already.” He turned back to Hermione and shook his head in derision, his annoyance and exasperation at a new high. “Tell me, how many fights have you actually been in- and...” he interrupted when she opened her mouth, “when I say fights I mean a situation where the other person is trying to kill you.”
Hermione looked abashed as she answered with a short, “None.”
“Okay, none,” Harry nodded, feeling pleased. “Now, let's compare your 'none' to my…” he frowned and trailed off, his mind flittering back to his previous battles as he tried to count them on his fingers. “er…you know what, I've lost track by now. Lets just say 'shit-loads'. Now, right at this very moment, what am I doing?”
“Lecturing us on how you're right?” Hermione offered sweetly.
“Yeah, sure,” Harry shrugged. “I'd also have accepted 'standing', 'breathing' or 'living'. Guess where my enemies are? I'll give you a hint; most of them aren't doing any of the above three.”
He smiled coldly as Hermione paled and pressed on.
“So when I give you a tip in a fight then you better fucking listen to me,” he said coldly. “Because I know what I'm talking about. Ethics, morals, being the better man- it means absolutely nothing when somebody's trying to kill you. But, hey, if you're into all of that crap then I'm sure your funeral will be really touching. Honestly, there might be tears.”
“Harry…” Amanda started.
“Get up here,” Harry ordered and Amanda obeyed, moving through the suddenly attentive crowd and coming up to stand next to Hermione. “Now, on three if you want, both of you…”
'Stupefy!' Amanda suddenly barked. A flash of light blasted from her wand but Harry moved faster, his wand whipping up and the crimson light veering off into the ceiling, parried away by his skill.
“Attacking me while I'm talking,” Harry mused, crimson sparks flying from the ceiling as Amanda started circling him. “Good. You're getting the point. Second mistake though- pressing your advantage. You've given me time to recover and plan. You should have just kept pressing me. I'd have been rushed to defend myself and I might have made a mistake.”
“Tarantallegra!” Hermione snapped, her wand flicking out sharply. Harry swatted the minor jinx away lazily, not even bothering to mutter an incantation.
“Don't use little pesky spells like that unless you're sure you can hit somebody,” Harry advised, shaking his limbs and allowing the tiniest of Hellfire trickles to run through him. “Even then, unless you're looking to humiliate or distract your opponent, you're better off with something with a little more bang to it.”
Amanda and Hermione exchanged glances and then moved in unison, their wands flicking through the air as they cried out incantations. Harry's wand darted as he parried and deflected a small barrage of minor spells, crimson streaks and yellow flashes of magic fizzling through the air as he batted them away.
“Plecto!” Hermione cried out, brandishing her wand above her head. “Bellua pugnus!”
There was a sharp whip-like crack and invisible force lashed out at Harry, who cocked his wrist and deflected the heavy blow with his spare hand, a glimmer of golden light forming around it from finger to wrist. An instant later, a flash of dark blue light zoomed at him and he swung his glimmering fist of golden light, caught it and threw it right back at her. Hermione muttered 'protego' and it splashed against a conjured sheet of silver magic, bouncing off and hitting one of the avid spectators.
“This is pretty pathetic, you two,” Harry drawled.
He turned to glance at the student that had been hit, absently throwing a powerful curse that ripped up floorboards and caused Hermione to squeak and throw herself out of the way. The student, the Weasley girl, was staring at her hands, both being transfigured into something resembling the paws of an animal. Harry sniggered and turned back to the two girls.
“Ferratilis!” Hermione barked, her wand moving in an elaborate series of movements.
A bundle of grey coils shot out from the tip with a loud rattling noise. A second later, the coils revealed themselves to be thick iron chains that surrounded Harry, only to shatter and fall to the ground in dozens of pieces. Harry blocked a streak of yellow light from Amanda, which rebounded into the ceiling with a loud clanging noise, and swiped his wand, causing Hermione to grunt as she was parried during mid-cast. A moment later, Amanda brandished her wand and shouted “Ventosus!”'
A gust of wind swirled around her and howled forward, picking up little bits of broken chain and hurling them at Harry. Harry, with an elaborate twirl of his wand, turned the gust into a spiralling column of air and threw it at the bright orange orb that Hermione had just cast, encasing it with roaring wind and wildly-flying bits of broken metal. There was a loud pop and the orange bubble disappeared, the wind vanishing and the pieces of metal falling to the ground. For the first time, Harry attacked and darted forward, his wand slashing through the air. Silver light spilled forward in a horizontal arc, clanging against two protego shielding charms and shattering them instantly. Both girls fell to the ground and Harry smiled, idly twirling his wand in his hand.
“Is that all you've got?” He asked arrogantly, watching both of them carefully. Hermione ground her teeth in anger and struggled to her feet, her wand shaking in her hand.
Harry observed her with a thin smile but suddenly there was a loud bang, like a backfiring car or an exploding cauldron. Harry whipped around, his eyes widening and he hastily defected a flash of silver light. The curse zipped sideways and slammed into one of the bookcases, tomes of all different sizes falling down as a large chunk of wood exploded in a shower of splinters.
“I guess I have a bit more?” Amanda said with a triumphant grin and Harry stared at her, honest surprise and shock in his eyes. A moment later they transformed into mirth and satisfaction and he drew himself up, giving the blonde a light clap.
“Nice, nice,” Harry said with a smile. He whipped his wand out, swiping it at the two, and muttered. “Caecus!”
A burst of violet strands swum from the tip of his wand, twisting and turning in the air and whipping around the two girls. Hermione brought up a well-cast protego but it shattered and she shrieked as the light wrapped itself around her face. She fell to the ground, whimpering as all of her senses were numbed. Amanda was luckier, managing to dispel the curse with a general counter-curse that Harry had just taught her the other day, but her fate was the same as Hermione's as Harry blasted her aside with a spectacular flash of light.
“So what have we learned today?” Harry drawled after Hermione and Amanda had been fully revived. He was twirling his wand in his hand and smiled in amusement at Hermione's anger, the girl still twitching from the after-effects of the spell Harry had hit her with.
“The answer is, of course, I'm right and you're wrong,” Harry continued with an air of enjoyment and was pleased to note that he had everybody's undivided attention after defeating two of the DA's finest in a matter of moments.
“Just get to the point,” Amanda groaned, gingerly touching her head and wincing when she felt a bump. Hermione waved her wand and muttered something and Amanda sighed as the minor healing charm reduced her headache to nothingness.
“Your problem, Hermione, is that you're all spells and no instinct,” Harry said bluntly and Hermione flushed, clearly disliking being told off. “You had a few doozies that might have taken me by surprise if you'd played your hand better but I could tell you were feeling awkward the entire time.”
“You think I might have been able to beat you?” Hermione asked after a moments pause.
“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “You didn't have a chance from the beginning.”
“What about me?” Amanda asked, still feeling her head. Her brow was all sweaty and there was a light behind her grey eyes that Harry was getting more and more used to during their training sessions. “How'd I do?”
“Pretty good,” Harry admitted. He gestured at the broken metal chains on the ground. “Throwing them at me was a good idea. That last curse, though, was brilliant. I don't think I ever taught you that one.”
“With the way you rave on and on about it, I picked up a few things,” Amanda said wryly.
“Okay, so, some pointers then,” Harry said, turning back to the students. He frowned in thought and hesitated. “Um…what do you know about fighting battles?”
There was a silence over the crowd of students until one girl, a redhead with pigtailed locks, raised her hand.
“My Aunt told me you could use the environment around you,” she offered attentively.
Harry snorted.
“Yeah, really good duellers can use unorthodox tactics like that, transfiguring rocks into animals and banishing stuff at people,” he answered. He scratched his head. “But you guys aren't really good duellers. To do that, you need to be quick with your wand and quick with your mind- thinking through half-a-dozen things in less than a second.”
“We're not that bad,” A Hufflepuff protested in annoyance.
“If you're worse than these two, you are,” Harry said bluntly. The boy scowled furiously as Harry glanced away from him. “For the likes of you lot, my advice to you is to keep moving. Find something relatively hard to duck behind and stay there until you need to move again.”
Harry paused, his brows furrowed in thought while the entire room regarded him in rapt attention.
“If your enemy can apparate, well, you're probably screwed,” he said frankly. Hermione, he saw, was taking notes and he rolled his eyes but continued. “Still, if you can, find a hallway or someplace narrow to put your back against and limit their ability to surround you. Keep in mind that it's hard to apparate in the middle of a battle and that you're enemy will need concentration. If you can distract them at the right moment, there's a good chance they'll reappear with only one leg or something.”
“Can you apparate?” Somebody called out and Harry paused.
“Yes,” he answered shortly. “Now, if you're surrounded in a relatively open space with lots of enemies then don't go for direct spells. The chances are that they'll blow you to pieces before you know what's happened. You should distract them and slip away to a terrain that's more suited for you- again, narrow hallways, enclosed spaces and the like.”
“How do we distract them?” Hermione asked when Harry paused.
“I don't know,” Harry snapped. “Summon a blast of light to blind them. Topple a bookshelf over them. Hell, even the 'looking over their shoulder and gasping a name' trick can work. Try to use my name- it tends to scare people.” He grinned at his own joke but it faded when all he got was weak smiles in return. “Oh, go fuck a duck,” he muttered under his breath.
“Do you have any particular spells that could work here?” Hermione asked again, taking careful notes in a small leather-bound diary.
“Anything that has a large area of effect,” Harry answered. “Anybody know Evertoxuro?”
Hermione paused, frowning in thought and she mulled over the name. Finally, recognition flared in her eyes and she became wary and cautious, regarding Harry closely.
“That's a classified Dark Arts spell,” she said accusingly.
“Really?” asked Harry lightly, a smug smile on his face and he watched as the rest of the students dissolved into mutterings, nudging each other and watching Harry a lot more cautiously. He lifted a hand and they all fell silent.
“So says the Ministry, right?” He continued slowly. “The same Ministry who's give you Umbridge. The same Ministry that won't let you practise basic spells. Now, gee, I wonder why they would declare a spell illegal. It's like they don't want you knowing any powerful spells at all…” he trailed off meaningfully.
Hermione flushed and many of the other students looked abashed and embarrassed as Harry cleared his throat, idly wondering how much time he had wasted tonight. He frowned, remembered where he was and continued.
“That spell works really well in those situations,” he continued, twirling his wand in his hands. “It takes a bit of effort to shield against and then you have a few moments afterwards to either finish the fight or get the hell out of there.”
“What if there's only one wizard after you?” asked Neville, a strange look on his normally placid face. If Harry didn't know any better, he would have said that the chubby boy looked grim and determined.
“Then go with direct spells,” Harry answered, making a swift swipe with his wand to emphasise his point. “Keep them on the defensive. Don't give them any time to attack, just slug as many spells as you can at them. When they've fortified themselves with a hefty magical shield, finish it off with a shield-piercer.”
“What's that?” Neville asked quietly, looking intent.
“Argentum Telum!” Harry snapped, his wand flicking up.
A glimmer of silver light, formed into the shape of an arrowhead, erupted from the tip of his wand as if shot by a bow. It streaked through the air and shot through one of the heavy tomes on the bookshelves. There was a flash of light and the book fell to the ground in tatters, a large round hole in the centre.
“That is a shield-piercer,” Harry said in satisfaction as Neville stared at the book, his face pale. “It'll break or weaken most conventional shields and the backlash is often enough to send them staggering. Afterwards, follow up with Abhorreo or something nasty to keep them down.”
“Kill them, you mean,” Neville said softly.
“If you have to,” Harry shrugged casually, not looking disturbed at all as the entire room became eerily silent. More than one of the students were staring at him with wide eyes and he sighed. “Look, I don't really give a crap if you believe Voldemort has returned or not but when you're staring down the wand of a dark wizard who wants to kill you, then you do what you have to do. Only one of you will walk away alive. Do you want it to be the Death Eater or Dark Wizard so he or she can go on and kill more innocent people?”
The group of students was silent and reflective and Harry eyed them with satisfaction in his eyes. Giddily, he rubbed his hands and clapped them together.
“Okay,” he said cheerfully, breaking the group out of the sombre mood he had put them in. “Amanda, take a third of them and show them Abhorreo. You lot, you're with me. I'll show you how to cast this shield piercer. Hermione, what are you better at- protego, firumstego or devito setego?”
“Protego,” she answered.
“Oh,” Harry said and schooled together a mask of disappointment. “Well, I guess you're only a kid- can't know everything.” He smiled at the flicker of anger that went through her eyes and jerked his head. “Get those brats and drum that spell into their heads. It'll keep them alive for a little bit longer.”
“We're not brats!” one of aforementioned brats stomped angrily, a third year girl.
“Whatever you say brat,” Harry remarked cheerfully as he waved them off.
He stood back and watched as the small group of students moved into action, a burst of noise and chatter rising throughout the room. Within his mind, Meciel made a noise of approval and her voice whispered teasingly into his ear.
'You had best be careful. If you keep this up, you might gain yourself a few minions.'
“You shouldn't worry about that,” Harry murmured under his breath as he strode to his small group of students, all who were watching him expectantly. “You just focus on how you're going to be naked tonight.”