A/N: Once again, thanks to DLP for thier contribution to this chapter, especially Eagelette and Warlocke for the grammar and spell checks. Thanks to nuhuh and Jon for thier help as well, although the latter should really stop gloating about it or else I'll....write him an angry letter or something.
The Christmas holidays came and went and the hustle and bustle of the premier magical school in England started up once more. The Professors were pushing the students harder than anything they had experienced before and Harry could see that most of them were struggling to get past the piles of homework that they received each day. Ron, somebody Harry knew to be quite anti-book, spent most of his time in the common room mumbling to himself with a copy of The Standard book of Spells (Grade 5) tucked under his nose. Hermione was rarely seen without a pile of parchment and a quill in her hand to the point where she had developed a permanent ink stain on her index finger. Amanda looked more and more stressed out as the days went by and had taken to chewing her nails nervously and Harry wouldn't have been surprised if she started developing grey hairs and wrinkles.
If she didn't, well, Harry knew a few spells.
Harry himself was taking it pretty easy and while the fifth and seventh years stressed out (apparently the latter had some kind of exam named after a lizard- Harry was constantly amazed at the wand-wizards ability to make everything sound stupid), he could be found in the Common Room with a relaxed expression on his face, idly reading through Dumbledore's tome or throwing pieces of scrunched-up parchment at first years- much to the annoyance of practically everybody else. From what Meciel had gleaned from the Fifth Year syllabus, he was already more than capable of passing his OWLs with above average marks and hence, keep his neck safe from decapitations.
If there was one thing that occupied the Gryffindor Tower and Hogwarts as a whole more than schoolwork, it was definitely Umbridge and the prank that had gone so very wrong. A couple of Ravenclaw Third Years had been the first to discover Umbridge's pox-ridden, pus-filled, partially-transfigured body lying unconscious in one of the hallways. The fact that Malfoy's wand had also been found discarded at the scene was a carefully-hidden secret, so it was only natural that the whole school knew about it by lunchtime. It was also known- and this was what made him snigger- that Harry had been called into Dumbledore's office to testify for Malfoy.
Harry was led through a series of hallways that were rapidly becoming familiar to him. Professor McGonagall strode next to him, her prim face tight with an unidentifiable emotion. Harry both looked and felt bored, his body automatically going through the motions of walking and his mind occupied elsewhere
'…I'm just saying, if we could find a way to anchor the spells for a longer period of time, we'd practically have an army to do what we want,' Harry thought.
'You're not the first to have this idea,' Meciel said dryly. 'Several wizards, both wand-wielders and White-Council, have tried to construct an automated army before. In fact, I suspect the suits of armour we see in the castle can be animated and ordered to attack if the need arose.'
'See,' Harry crowed as he and McGonagall turned a corner. At the end of this corridor, Harry could see the big and grumpy-looking gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office.
'For starters, such magic is only capable by wizards wielding the highest calibre of Transfiguration,' Meciel said. 'And you are not at that level just yet. For another, these suits of armour reside in one of the most magical locations in all of Europe, which no doubt helps keep the enchantments on them from decaying.'
“I'm just saying,” Harry muttered sourly and McGonagall paused as they neared the gargoyle.
She gave him a sidelong glance, more puzzled than annoyed, but Harry ignored it as she opened the stone gargoyle and he strode up the stairs. He entered the familiar office, idly noting that Fawkes was absent as usual and that Dumbledore had visitors. The Headmaster himself was sitting behind his desk and his eyes were twinkle-less as he stared at Harry. Only the Denarian caught the knowing look in the elderly wizard's glance and he frowned, breaking the stare and glancing at the other occupants of the room.
Two crimson-robed Aurors, a tall dark-skinned man that Harry remembered seeing at Grimmauld Place and a shorter, tougher-looking wizard with balding grey hair and perpetually-narrowed eyes, stood before him. Both turned to stare at him, the former with detached politeness and the latter with suspicion. Sitting in between them was Draco Malfoy, his eyes rimmed with red and his face pale.
“Mr. Potter?” The dark-skinned wizard- Kingsley, if Harry recalled properly- asked him, as if he had never seen the boy before in his life.
“You better have a good reason for calling me here,” Harry scowled in annoyance. “I was having a nice little menstruation session that you interrupted.”
The grey-haired wizard choked and McGonagall, who had just come up behind him, let out an audible gasp. Harry paused, a satisfied expression on his face, and made a show of frowning and scratching his head.
“Or is the word 'masturbation'?” He mused idly. He shrugged and turned back to the Aurors, noticing the twitch of amusement from Kingsley's lips. “Whatever it was, it involved my penis, my left hand, a tub of whipped cream and my Defence against the Dark Arts textbook.”
“As amusing as this is,” Dumbledore broke in quietly. “I'm afraid we'll need to hurry this along. Mr Malfoy is quite anxious to hear of the innocence- or guilt- of his son. Harry, could you please take a seat?”
Harry shrugged and, Hellfire wrapping around his mind and Meciel guarding his consciousness, he sat down in one of the chairs and placed his feet up on the Headmasters desk. He looked nonplussed when the grey-haired Auror shot a look at Dumbledore, wondering how the old man was going to take it. Dumbledore merely smiled.
“Thank you, Harry,” he said cheerfully. “I shall leave Auror Dawlish and Auror Kingsley to ask the questions. Rest assured, as a former representative of the Wizengamot, I will make sure that your rights are upheld to the letter of the law.”
The grey-haired Auror, obviously Dawlish, nodded at Kingsley and caught Harry's eyes. Harry stared back, a small and amused smile on his face.
“Are you aware that last night, Professor Umbridge was attacked and subjected to several nasty- and some illegal- hexes and curses?” Dawlish asked slowly.
“Everybody in the school is aware,” Harry answered. He cocked his head. “I think you can hear the parties from here if you listen real close.”
“She remains in the hospital wing, being tended to by licensed healers from Saint Mungo's,” Dawlish continued, his voice rising slightly and an annoyed flush of colour appearing at the side of his neck.
“Absolutely fascinating, please, continue,” Harry said blandly.
“When the scene of the crime was searched, a wand was found,” Dawlish continued. His eyes flicked to Malfoy, who paled and swallowed. “Upon examination of the wand, it was determined that it was the wand that was used to attack Professor Umbridge.”
Harry slowly patted down his pockets, as if reassuring himself that his own wand was still there.
“Again, I'm just riveted,” Harry said slowly. He pulled out his own wand and waved in front of the Auror's face, pretending to be oblivious to the way that both men tensed up. “But I have my wand, so it wasn't me.”
“You misunderstand the purpose of this meeting,” Kingsley said softly in his deep baritone. “The wand found was Draco Malfoy's. He has protested his innocence and claims that he lost his wand sometime before lunchtime yesterday. He also says that you can support his claim.”
“Support his claim?” Harry echoed carefully, eying Malfoy with glinting eyes. “I didn't touch his wand, if that's what you're getting at.”
“Nobody is suggesting that you did,” Kingsley said quietly. “Mr Malfoy claimed that you and he had an altercation sometime after lunch yesterday, and that was unable to procure his wand during that time. Is that true?”
Harry paused and switched his gaze to Malfoy, who gazed at him expectantly. There was a certain pleading in his eyes that made Harry's lips twitch in amusement.
“Potter!” Dawlish barked but Harry ignored him, his gaze still locked on Malfoy.
The platinum-blonde boy had a look of dawning horror overtaking his face and beads of sweat were forming around his forehead as if he had suddenly realised that Harry might not help him at all. Harry kept his eyes locked onto Malfoy's and a sinister grin flashed across his face, making Malfoy flinch. The Denarian turned back to Dawlish, who was eying him impatiently, and rolled his eyes, affecting an air of boredom.
“Yeah, I met Malfoy near the dungeons after lunch,” he said, snorting derisively. “The little shit had the nerve to insult me but chickened out of a duel, saying he couldn't find his wand. I mean, what kind of wizard loses his wand? Even the most pathetic and weak wizards know where their wands are.”
Malfoy flushed, glaring at Harry with a mixture of hatred and relief. He hurriedly turned his head towards Kingsley and Dawlish, who were frowning and muttering to each other in low tones.
“As you see, gentlemen,” Dumbledore said loudly, gaining the attention of both Aurors. At that time, Harry slowly and carefully sidled next to Malfoy, placing his lips near the haughty boy's ear.
“You owe me,” he breathed in softly and a dark flash of satisfaction flared in his chest as Malfoy started, staring daggers at Harry but reluctantly jerking his head. Harry smiled ominously and leaned back, a satisfied expression on his face.
“…we have eye-witness testimony that supports Mr. Malfoy's account of events,” Dumbledore was saying. Kingsley was nodding but Dawlish had a furious expression on his face, as if somebody had just kicked him in the balls and gotten away with it. “An eye-witness with a profound dislike of Mr. Malfoy, no less…”
“Surely…” Dawlish started.
“You have the wrong person,” Dumbledore said sharply and Dawlish stilled, reluctantly nodding his head. Dumbledore's face transformed back into the benign appearance that Harry was familiar with. “I will, of course, assist the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as best I can. However, given the number of students with less-than-friendly attitudes towards Professor Umbridge and the lack of evidence, I'm afraid that we may never find out who attacked her.”
Kingsley and Dawlish nodded, both looking unhappy. Dumbledore made a slight motion with his head and McGonagall cleared her throat, glancing down at Harry with a neutral expression.
“If that is all you need of Mr. Potter, then I believe he is needed back in class,” she said in clipped tones. Kingsley nodded and McGonagall motioned for Harry to follow her as the two of them left the office.
'I'll admit that I felt extraordinarily proud of you at that moment,' Meciel murmured, throwing Harry out of his reflections. 'The greatest irony is that Malfoy believes that you have saved him when it was you who framed him in the first place.”
Harry grinned, glancing around at the virtual beach that his mind was currently occupying and took a sip from his cold drink. The sun beat down on him in a pleasant ray of warmth and he sighed, leaning back in his deck chair and idly gazing at a large dinosaur grazing at the palm trees nearby.
“Did you ever have a dinosaur host?” Harry asked curiously. It certainly was a large dinosaur, twice as big as a normal house with leathery grey skin and a back full of ridges. Its eyes were alert but without the sentience that made humans what they were.
“Of course not. I was not imprisoned until quite some time after,” Meciel said, her illusion appearing next to the dinosaur. She stroked its hide with the back of her hand, her silver and white dress rippling in the breeze. “I was part of the host that cleared this world of these beasts. It was an experiment that the higher ups decided to…scrap, for lack of a better word.”
“So there was no asteroid?” Harry asked and snorted. “Primary school fails me again.”
“Oh, there was an asteroid,” Meciel said and her silver eyes glimmered. She gestured to the sky with curved lips and Harry glanced up, noticing that it was approaching dusk. He also noticed that there was no moon. “Where do you think the moon came from? Trust me; I know this entire world's secret.”
“You're old,” Harry muttered, shaking his head in amusement. Meciel smiled and strode over to Harry's deck chair. “You should put some wrinkles and grey hair on that face of yours, you know, to show it off.”
“Oh?” Meciel uttered and something in her voice made Harry suddenly feel wary.
“Hey,” he said defensively, throwing up his hands as if to ward off attack. “Some cultures regard age as a sign of wisdom and respect.”
“Your culture, if I recall correctly, regards nubility and attractiveness as a sign of sexual desirability,” Meciel said, arching an eyebrow. “Or were you not salivating over my breasts some time ago?”
“Boobies,” Harry droned with a lecherous grin and flexed his fingers. Meciel stared at him, unbidden laughter rising in her throat as she regarded him with great amusement and fondness.
“I'll tell you this,” Meciel said, her face stretched in a very attractive smile. She stood next to Harry and a white deck chair suddenly appearing on the sandy beach. Meciel lay down, her white and silver dressed replaced with a bikini that made Harry stare. “You are certainly one of the most enjoyable and unique hosts that I have ever possessed.”
“Possessed?” Harry said challenging, cocking her an arrogant grin. “Who pays rent here, huh? I loan you a spare bit of my brain. Technically, I could make you live in my spleen.”
“Technically, you couldn't,” Meciel said. “Oh, and my eyes are up here.”
“Uh huh,” Harry said with a grin. “So, impressed with my diabolical plan, were you?”
“Quite so,” Meciel said and paused. “Eyes, Harry?”
“Yes, yes, I'm sure they're nice and I'll get to them in a second,” Harry said, waving her off with a dismissive gesture of his hand.
Meciel rolled her eyes- a habit she had picked up from Harry no doubt- and suddenly her bikini and generous cleavage was replaced with her silver and white dress. She cocked her head, as if listening to something that Harry couldn't hear.
“Spoilsport,” Harry pouted, folding his arms grumpily.
“You might want to listen to this,” Meciel advised.
The beach suddenly shattered, as if it were a mirror that had just been dropped, and Harry blinked rapidly, his perceptions warping back to that of reality in a single instant. He squinted and rubbed his eyes, wincing when a sudden rush of talk and laughter struck his ears. He was sitting in the Great Hall with his head in his arms. He shook his head, glancing down at his empty plate, and focussed when Meciel gave him a mental nudge.
“…it's a useful spell,” Amanda was saying, speaking to Hermione in hushed tones. “It'd be really useful for the DA to learn; especially if some of them are ever surrounded by Death Eaters or other dark wizards.”
“I don't like it,” Hermione said, her voice crisp. “The spell's too violent. All of the spells you get from him seem a bit…well, a bit dark.”
“You believe me, right? You believe my dad about Voldemort?” Amanda pressed and Harry saw Hermione wince at the name and give a tight nod from the corner of his eye, giving him a sidelong glance that he pretended to miss.
“When he reveals himself then it's going to be like a war,” Amanda said quietly, shuddering at the thought but pressing on, “The people in the DA are the ones who are going to be targeted. They'll need every edge they can get.”
“I suppose,” Hermione said after a moment, her voice reluctant.
Whatever she said next was drowned out by the sudden screech of owls. Harry winced and glanced up, seeing the morning post owls soaring down from the rafters in the Great Hall and towards their respective owners. He hastily moved his plate under the table as an owl glided by, remembering the day before when one of the owls had taken a crap all over his fried eggs- and he hadn't noticed.
Meciel sniggered at that thought and Harry gave her a mental prod.
'You could have warned me,' he thought sourly.
'Where would the fun be in that?' Meciel asked with a tittering laugh.
Harry lifted up his plate and pushed it away, his appetite vanishing. With a scowl at the nearest owl and a brief mental rundown of just how loud the thing would screech once Harry was done with it, Harry stood up and strode from the Great Hall.
'What are your plans for Malfoy?' Meciel asked curiously. Harry knew that she could have delved into his mind, plucking the information out whenever she wished, but Meciel was a strong believer in the Old Ways and common courtesy.
'I dunno,' Harry shrugged, sidestepping a pair of First Years and walking into the entrance hall. 'I hadn't thought that far ahead. I'm sure you could come up with something.'
'He isn't of much use to us at the moment,' Meciel observed. 'Of course, if you listen to Weasley and half the Gryffindors, Malfoy's father is apparently a high-ranking Death Eater. We should keep that in mind.'
Harry grunted and glanced out one of the windows near the main doorways. Winter was blowing away faster than usual and Harry could already see that most of the snow had melted, leaving muddy puddles of water, clumps of grass and weeds poking out from them. His mind elsewhere, Harry almost didn't notice the owl sitting at the window ledge, staring at him with unblinking yellow eyes.
“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Harry muttered, scowling at the owl.
There was no letter attached to its leg, so Harry shooed it away with his hand. The owl bristled, flaring its wings and flapping above the window ledge for a few moments. Suddenly and without warning, just as Harry was turning away from it, it gave a loud piercing screech and dove for him. Harry saw a flash of colour coming for him and it was only his superior reflexes that kept him from losing an eye as he turned his head, sharp talons raking across his hairline and ripping out a few hairs.
As it soared past, Harry spun around, Hellfire rushing into his body as he levelled his wand- which appeared in his hand in a blur of movement- at the owl. With a single sharp word, the tip of the wand glowed with an eerie candescence and a bolt of crackling red light shot out, striking the owl with unnerving accuracy. There was a pained screech that was abruptly cut off and Harry watched with a cold glint in his eyes as a pile of feathers, some more bloodied than others, drifted to the ground- the last remains of the owl.
“Fucking owls,” he growled under his breath.
Still, there was a slight smile of satisfaction and enjoyment on his face as he welcomed his old friend adrenaline back into his body.
'What was that about?' Meciel wondered.
“I hate owls,” Harry growled, twirling his wand in his hand. He scanned the small bloody smear that remained of the owl with a disgusted expression on his face. “Flea-ridden, feathery little sons-of-bitches…”
'I do not think owls have a flea problem,' Meciel said slowly. 'However, I suggest you look to your left through the corner of your eye. I only advise this because there are two more owls on the windowsill.'
Harry slowly turned his head, meeting the unblinking stare of two more birds, one large with tawny feathers and the other a beautiful snowy one. They made no noise; there were no hoots or movements, they merely sat there and stared at Harry as if possessed.
'There are three more in the other windowsill behind you. I heard them fly in,' Meciel said and paused. 'Be careful, beloved, they just might be.'
“Be what?” Harry said as he spun around, a perpetual scowl on his face as he fingered his wand. “Tomorrow night's dinner?”
'No, possessed,' Meciel said. 'Vesper has a way with birds.'
The sound of a dozen flapping wings quickly caught Harry's attention and he glanced up, noticing that some owls had slipped out of the Great Hall and were perched in the giant wooden rafters of the Entrance Hall. He turned his head and blinked in surprise. Where there had been two birds on the window ledge, there were now six, all crammed in together with unblinking eyes of the same shade of yellow.
“This isn't going to go well,” Harry remarked cheerfully as another dozen owls fluttered into through the main doors.
'Worried?'
“Oh, I mean for them,” Harry said, his smile never leaving his face as more and more owls dove in from the Great Hall or the open doors.
There was a lapse in movement and suddenly every single avian head swung towards him, the same disturbing glint coming over all of their amber eyes. Suddenly, the owls reared their wings, screeched in unison and dived as one for all directions.
“Tutamen atra flamma!” Harry said coldly.
The power that rushed through him was anything but the chill of his tone, a fiery maelstrom of darkness and power that spread through his wand, the runes glittering with unholy light, and poured out into a massive rush of flames. Scarlet and purple flames roared as the blazing loop of fire surrounded him. The owls screeched in agony as they dove into the fire, mindful of the pain but too determined or driven to stop. Feathers and flesh quickly became ash and the smell of sizzling meat filled the air above the raw scent of sulphur.
“Smells like chicken,” Harry muttered thoughtfully, his wand pulsing in his hands as more and more owls dove into his impenetrable barrier of fire by the dozens.
'We should have a taste,' Meciel observed and Harry felt her assessing the situation, deeming it more irritating than harmful. 'If there's anything left, of course.'
The rest of the owls continued to bombard the fiery barrier, being reduced to ash in a matter of seconds. The last few tried to veer upwards but only one made it, its amber eyes gleaming with a rage that the creature was unable to naturally feel. It soared over the flames and dove down feet first, talons extended as it prepared to gouge out Harry's eyes.
Unfortunately, for the bird at least, Harry was faster and, with his right hand still clasped to his wand, his left arm shot up and grabbed the bird by the neck. With a sharp squeeze, he snapped the owl's neck and casually tossed it aside, wiping his hand on his robe as he lowered the wand. The fire disappeared and Harry stepped out into the lingering heat, eying the scattering of ash that littered the floor.
There was a loud cough and Harry whirled around, his eyes narrowed dangerously. Dumbledore ignored the wand that was levelled at him as he slipped the Great Hall doors shut behind him. His eyes took in the ash on the ground, lingering over the broken and crumpled body of the owl that Harry had wrung. The Headmaster raised an eyebrow but didn't say a word as he gave Harry a pointed look.
“Yeah, alright,” Harry muttered sourly, pocketing his wand.
He released his grip on Hellfire and the dark power flowed back into the void. Scowling, he walked across the entrance hall and reacquainted himself with the various passageways and corridors that lead to the Headmasters office
“I'm sure you have an interesting explanation to the question I'm about to ask,” Dumbledore said quietly as he moved across his office and sat down behind his desk.
Harry took his usual seat by the bookshelf, which gave him a clear view of the office door, the portraits, Fawke's perch (although the summer Fae was absent yet again) and Dumbledore.
“Probably Vesper,” Harry shrugged carelessly. “She gets a hard-on for birds, apparently.”
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose.
“Hard-on?” He repeated curiously. “I'm afraid I haven't come across that term before, although I am certain I get the gist of it.”
“Yeah,” Harry said and paused. “Dumbledore, if you don't know what that means then you're way too old.”
“It's been brought to my attention before,” Dumbledore said with a soft chuckle. His smile disappeared and he became more pensive. “The owls did seem curiously subdued this morning. Vesper is more resourceful than I believed. I thought I had erected wards and placed spells to cover every eventuality.”
“You can never cover every eventuality,” Harry scoffed. Dumbledore smiled. “There's always some crazy fucker who's prepared to do something so stupid that it often works. Usually it's me, actually.”
“It will not happen again,” Dumbledore said firmly and Harry nodded, feeling satisfied. “I will ward the owls from any further intrusions such as this- after I purchase the new owls, of course.”
“Not my problem,” Harry said edgily, fidgeting in his seat.
“I am curious though,” Dumbledore said pensively, steeping his fingers together and peering at Harry over his half-moon glasses. “Did Vesper truly believe that this attack would harm you? While surprising, it is hardly threatening to those your level of skill.”
“I almost lost an eye,” Harry protested. He gestured to his hair. “And look at that! How can I woo your innocent little schoolgirls when big crazy owls are swooping in and taking clumps of my hair?” He rolled his eyes theatrically as Dumbledore smiled in amusement. “Besides, it had nothing to do with killing me- although I'm sure she would have tried if she could have gotten past your wards any other way.”
“You believe she wasn't trying to harm you?” Dumbledore asked in puzzlement.
“Of course she was,” Harry said and gave Dumbledore a dark smile. “The anorexic bitch hates Meciel. I'm just saying, this was more about reminding me that she's still alive and kicking- and probably waiting to kill me too.”
“So Vesper- and Voldemort to a certain degree- are showing an increased willingness to flaunt their power,” Dumbledore mused carefully. “This is interesting, very, very, interesting.”
“Then the prophecy has been fulfilled,” Harry said ominously and clasped his hands together. “And the Chosen One must find the Sword of Fate to complete his Destiny.”
“What?” Dumbledore said sharply and Harry blinked, staring at the old man curiously. “What are you talking about, Harry? What prophecy? What sword?”
“Nothing,” Harry said with a shrug, giving Dumbledore a pointed smile. “I just figured it was finally my chance to say something dramatic for once.”
“I see,” Dumbledore said slowly and something like relief flashed through his eyes. Harry frowned, his mind whirring, but Dumbledore's next comment pushed the elderly wizard's strange reaction out of his mind and made him wince.
“There is, of course, the matter of Professor Umbridge,” Dumbledore said, eying Harry carefully. Harry plastered as much innocence as he could fake onto his face and stared Dumbledore straight in the eye.
“Yes, such a tragedy,” he said slowly.
“You shouldn't have done that,” Dumbledore chided severely, but his twinkling eyes and twitching lips contradicted his tone.
“She deserved it,” Harry said, dropping any last vestige of innocence and staring at Dumbledore defiantly.
“Why did you do it, Harry?” Dumbledore asked and his smile disappeared. He suddenly looked very weary. “If you had been caught -and I assure you that if your concealment charms had been a tad-less than they were, you would have been- you would have been sent to Azkaban. I'm sure that not even the White Council would wish to pursue you there, but I'm also sure that you would not want to visit that island in the first place.”
“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, meeting Dumbledore's gaze with a bold stare. “She's a bitch? She had it coming? I was bored?”
“You were bored?” Dumbledore repeated.
“Look,” Harry said, visibly agitated. Frustration threatened to raise his voice and he suppressed it harshly, determined not to show any weakness in front of this man. “I'm not like you.”
“I had noticed,” Dumbledore said dryly.
“This place is boring to me,” Harry said bluntly. “Studying and practising new spells, no matter how cool they are- nice book, by the way…”
Dumbledore accepted the compliment with a nod of his head, looking as if listening to Harry rant was the most important thing in the world to him.
“It's boring,” Harry said and growled, slamming his hands down on the arms of his chair. “Dammit, do you know how long it's been since I've had any fun? Hell, today was the most exciting I've had in months.”
“Somebody tried to kill you,” Dumbledore said quietly. “Other people would not find that exciting.”
“That's the thing,” Harry exclaimed and jabbed his finger in Dumbledore's direction. “People have always been trying to kill me. When I was a kid, I was always on the lookout for Denarians or Wardens or any other supernatural bastard looking to off me. It was fun- especially when they found me!”
“You miss the rush of battle” Dumbledore said in dawning understanding.
“Give me a nest of Denarians, or Death Eaters, or Red Court Vampires or…” Harry struggled, biting his lips. “Give me anything that I can kill and I'll have a ball. If you know the names of a few Death Eaters, give them to me and I'll track 'em down and do what needs to be done.”
Dumbledore looked pensive, his fingers steepled together as he stared at Harry over his glasses with unfathomable eyes. Just when the stare was beginning to get uncomfortable, Dumbledore sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“I understand how you feel, Harry,” he said and ignored Harry's scoff of derision. “I, too, was young once- although it must be hard to believe. I went through a phase much like yours, although I will admit that I was a tad bit older and a tad less bloodthirsty than you were. But you must focus on your goal, and that is to stay alive.”
“No need to lecture me,” Harry grumbled, settling back in his seat. “I know why I need to be here but I don't have to like it. In fact, I could say that I'm under an obligation to hate it.”
“Understandable,” Dumbledore said with twinkling eyes. He took off his glasses and absently polished them on the sleeve of his robe. “Believe me, Harry, I have been thinking of your role working with the Order of Phoenix once you have completed your OWLs. I admire the men and women who have the fortitude to stand against the darkness, but I will admit that there are very few of them who could stomach the total necessity for war.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked curiously.
“We- I,” Dumbledore corrected slowly, “made mistakes when dealing with Voldemort in the past. Given his strength now, I can no longer to afford to make those mistakes.”
He placed his glasses back on his eyes and glanced down at Harry. Despite himself, Harry shivered, seeing a dark look in the professor's eye that he had never associated with the Headmaster before.
“In the coming years, I will need somebody of your skills and…” Dumbledore paused. “…a certain moral flexibility…to do what needs to be done as quickly and as quietly as possible. Until then, you must focus on what needs to be done at this very moment, and that is to pass your OWLs. You say you lack excitement, Harry. Trust me, savour boredom for as long as you can.”
“Creepy,” Harry said slowly and stood up, eying Dumbledore peculiarly. A slow grin stretched across his face. “You know, it's moments like these that I just know we're going to be great allies.”
“Ah yes, allies,” Dumbledore mused, as if something had just occurred to him. “I have spoken with Professors McGonagall and Snape and passed on my instructions but I shall ask you a favour as well. The situation is looking grim and I fear I shall not be Headmaster for much longer…”
“What!” Harry exclaimed sharply. “Hang on, if you leave and a Ministry lackey comes in, I might be expelled and if I'm expelled without my OWLs, I'm a dead man!”
“I know,” Dumbledore said patiently. “I have already ensured that your place here at Hogwarts will be relatively secure. I have contacts close to Minister Fudge insuring that he will not act against you until after you have taken your OWLs. He, of course, believes it is in his best interest to wait.”
“Sneaky,” Harry commented quietly. He cocked his head and winced when he felt Meciel's pointed nudge. “Okay, what's the favour? Beware, anything to do with your flabby and wrinkled arse will see me in therapy for a very long time.”
“Should I be forced to leave, I ask that you watch over the students here at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said and smiled faintly at Harry's puzzlement. “Not as a Professor, of course, but as a warrior. I do not believe Voldemort would attack here but if he does, then you are to secure the safety and escape of the students before anything else.”
“I can do that,” Harry said slowly.
“Before anything else,” Dumbledore emphasised slowly. “No matter how bored you are.”
“Fine,” Harry said irritably, rolling his eyes. “It's a deal. You make sure I don't get expelled and I'll make sure the bad guys don't hurt the students as long as I'm here.”
“Thankyou, Harry,” Dumbledore said and the Denarian was honestly puzzled to see something like relief in the man's expression. “I think that is all for now.”
Harry frowned and spun around to leave. Just as he was about to exit the door, he paused and turned back.
“I need to open a summoning circle to the Nevernever,” he declared. “I want to get some information about this latest attack, see what Vesper's up to, perv in the girl's showers, that sort of thing.”
“I shall arrange it in the same place as last year,” Dumbledore agreed.
Harry gave a nod of thanks and left the room.
“Do we have any fruit?' Meciel asked as Harry bustled around his dormitory.
“I have...two chocolate frogs and a bag of “Bertie Bott's Every Flavour beans,” Harry recited, staring at the small bug with disgust. “I tried one of the green ones. I'm pretty sure it was raw sewage.”
“Lovely,” Meciel said wryly, her illusion seated at his bed. Her silver eyes were locked onto the small and heavily enchanted foot-locker at the end of the bed.
“I'm afraid to try the white ones,” Harry said absently, dropping to his knees and checking under his bed. “There aren't a lot of things that you can eat that are white, if you get what I'm saying.”
“I think so,” Meciel said distractedly. She pointed at the chest. “I think you might want to open this, Harry.”
Harry frowned, suddenly aware of the nagging, itching feeling he was getting at the pit of his stomach. It had been months since he had felt it but he recognised it all the same and groaned.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he snapped. He whipped out his wand and opened the chest with a single flick.
Inside were a few of his clothes, a sack of gold (that Harry had cursed so that only he could touch it), a pair of thick leather gloves and the cane-like sheath for the Sword of the Cross. It was trembling slightly, an almost-unnoticeable pulse of silver light licking at the handle.
“I thought I'd broken this thing,” Harry muttered sourly, gingerly prodding the cane with his wand. He was wise enough to put on the two thick leather gloves before he picked up the sheath.
'I believe you would know if you had destroyed the blade,' Meciel murmured, her illusion vanishing, her disdain and repulsion for the weapon making her instinctively retreat to the furthest reaches of Harry's mind, her voice gaining a barely-noticeable echo to it.
“Well, it hasn't made a single peep since I got here,” Harry said slowly.
'Perhaps you're exactly where it wishes you to be?' Meciel proposed.
Harry glared at the sword but a grim smile crossed his face and he suddenly felt a rush of anticipation. He slung the sheath over his shoulder and with a flick of his wand, gathered the materials he needed to make a summoning circle. He strode from the dormitory, the materials obediently floating behind him and left the Gryffindor Tower, ignoring the two Third Years who gaped at the strange sight.
“It's all good, Meciel,” Harry said as he quickly stamped down the moving staircase, absently ducking to avoid one of the ghosts. He ignored the exclamation of outrage behind him.
'You enjoy doing the mindless bidding of another?' Meciel asked and there was something in her voice that made Harry pause.
“I like doing something,” Harry clarified and smiled grimly as he stroked the sheath around his shoulders. “With this, it generally means that after a few minutes I'm hacking something to death.”
'Is there any other way?' Meciel sighed.
“With what?” Harry asked, turning a corner and approaching the classroom he wanted. It was the same classroom that Molly had used to teach Alternative Magic and the Old World last year. He only hoped that Dumbledore had remembered to deactivate the wards for him.
'Hack something,' Meciel said.
“You could hack them into disability,” Harry said thoughtfully as he entered the room.
The classroom was mostly empty now, the chairs and tables gone and the blackboard covered with dust. Harry flicked his wand and the small pile of objects clattered to the floor. Another flick and a large piece of chalk floated up into the air and zoomed across the disused room and began tracing intricate lines into the floor.
“Hack them out of an arm and leg, hack them into next week, hack them into womanhood,” Harry continued idly, his wand swishing through the air as he broke up the small pieces of chocolate and levitated them into one of the school's dinner bowls. He frowned at the measly pile. “I really need to find out where the kitchens are.”
'I fail to see how you could hack somebody to womanhood,' Meciel said, and Harry thought she was speaking mostly for the sake of idle conversation.
“Well, they start off as a man,” Harry said and gave a dark grin to nothing in particular. The piece of chalk was zooming across the floor now, drawing intricate lines and complex runes over the dusty floor. “I think you get the idea.”
'I'm sure your penis is whimpering,' Meciel remarked dryly as Harry banished the bowl of chocolate and sweets to the middle of the rapidly-expanding chalk circle. A moment later, the chalk clattered to the ground.
“I rule my penis,” Harry said with an air of pomposity. “It does not rule me.”
'You had me fooled,' Meciel muttered in amusement.
Harry rolled his eyes but stepped up and took a deep breath. Hellfire roared in his veins and he channelled it out, a rush of dark power sizzling the wood of his wand. He wove it carefully, his voice spilling out words of summoning and power as the runes on the floor started to glow with a hellish red light. With another deep breath, Harry called out the name of the Faerie he wished to summon. The name had an odd musical lilt to it and shivered in the air with binding spells, forcing the creature to obey the caster's call.
A moment later, there was a bright flash of light and a shower of silver motes fell to the ground as a tiny figure appeared, no larger there from the tip of his finger to his wrist. When the light dimmed, Harry's mouth opened in astonishment, looking and feeling quite surprised at what he saw. At the best of times, Cessbulby was an amusing distraction that Harry would admit that he was a little fond of. At the worst of times, she was a malicious little shit with a vicious streak that Harry couldn't even come close to approaching.
It seemed he had summoned her at one of those worst times. Her silver dragonfly-like wings were covered with a thick liquid that Harry immediately identified as some kind of gore. Her usual white dress had been replaced with some kind of icy-armour and she held a tooth-pick sized sword in her hand, also made of ice. The nimbus of ambient light that surrounded her was flickering with a dark, primal urge and she was growling under her breath, her tiny eyes alight with bloodlust.
“I had him!” Cess shrieked loudly, whirling around in a blur of silver wings. “Why did you take me away? I had him!”
“Cess?” Harry ventured after a moment, automatically checking to see if the circle still had its integrity.
Luckily for him the defensive wards were active as Cess blurred forward, slamming into a sparkling barrier of crimson light and bouncing off. Harry opened his mouth but winced when Cess tried it again, closing his mouth and eying Cess strangely. He had never seen this side of the Winter Fae so upfront.
“Is this a bad time?” Harry asked when Cess paused to take a breath, her bright soulless blue eyes glimmering with frustration.
“Yes!” Cess whined and stamped her foot- or would have stamped her foot if she hadn't been hovering in the air. “I have to protect the Lady! Send me back!”
“The Lady?” Harry asked, his eyes narrowing. “You mean Maeve?”
Suddenly the sword that he had stuck at the back of his shoulders trembled and Harry felt an annoying itch dig into the pit of his stomach. A strong sensation bucked at his mind and he had already taken a step forward before he shrugged it off.
“Lady Maeve is under attack!” Cess shrieked. She paused and licked a splattering of blood off her sword, making a low noise of approval. “All Fae are to fight in her name!”
The sword trembled again and Harry growled in annoyance, struggling to reach over his shoulder and throw it aside. Cess took the chance to slam into the barrier again, letting out a loud inhuman shriek of frustration as the barrier flared again, red hues of light sparkling in the centre of the summoning circle.
'This is a surprise,' Meciel murmured. 'The Higher Ups obviously want you to participate in this battle.'
“Let me go!” Cess shrieked angrily but Harry ignored her, focussing his attention on Meciel.
“Why?” He asked bluntly.
'There could be a number of reasons,' Meciel said and Harry felt her wince when the sword shivered again. Something flashed in his veins and for a second, Harry was certain that he could hear a loud resounding trumpet note. Meciel recoiled and dug herself deeper into Harry's mind. 'It seems particularly insistent on this point.'
“What's in it for us,” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes when Cess charged the barrier again.
'Who knows?' Meciel said wearily. 'I'm sure there might be some sort of reward that you could get out of it. Fae are notorious for honouring their debts. Besides, you did say you were getting bored.'
The sword trembled again and fires of silver and hell clashed in Harry's veins. Harry gritted his teeth and Meciel wordlessly hissed. It was the strongest summons that the sword had ever thrown at him.
'The time may come when we must destroy this sword, regardless of its effectiveness against our enemies,' Meciel muttered.
Harry nodded, his brows furrowed in concern, and turned back to the excitable and angry little faery. Cess was staring at him, trickles of ice flowing from her hands as she hurled icy blasts at the glimmering cylinder that separated her from Harry.
“Cess,” Harry called and sighed as the faery hurled another gobbet of tiny ice at the barrier. “Cess! You can calm down, I'm letting you go,” Cess paused, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as Harry paused and grimaced, “but I'm coming with you,” he finished.
“Oh!” Cess squealed and suddenly her bad mood vanished, a bright smile appearing over her blood-splattered face. “We can kill things together!
“Yeah,” Harry muttered as he waved his wand, preparing to open a portal to the Nevernever. He didn't continue his next sentence but allowed it to play in his mind as a slit of grey light appeared before him, like a visible tear in the very air itself, rapidly expanding out into what looked to be a doorway to a white arctic location. 'I'm just wondering what side I'm fighting on.'
'The side that tries to kill us is our enemy,' Meciel advised as a bitterly icy wind slammed into Harry's face, making him wince.
'What if both sides attack us?' He thought as he took a step towards the portal.
'Then I suppose we'll have a lot of enemies…' Meciel started but the rest was drowned out as his mind became a blur of colour and sound as he was transported to Winter's domain in the Nevernever.