A/N: It's been brought to my attention that there are no spaces after an incantation has been said. I looked through word and concluded that it's a FF.Net formatting error. I'll keep an eye on it and make the changes manually if I have to.
After his little session with the DA, Amanda had graciously 'allowed' him to use the Room of Requirement- as it was called- whenever he wanted to. Despite the ridiculous way of opening the damn door, even Harry could see a use for this room and it quickly became his new training room for several reasons. Firstly, it was harder to get too. Secondly, it was easier to seal off and thirdly, he now had an unlimited supply of desks, tables and other miscellaneous objects that he could blow up. Unfortunately, the first time Harry tested out the room proved to be a failure. Sure, the setting did remotely resemble that of a brothel but the room had been unable to conjure up any women. Still, Meciel's promise had payed off and he had practically burned her very beautiful and very nude body into his mind, bringing it up at the best and worst of times, much to Meciel's chagrin and amusement.
“The DA seemed to like you,” Amanda said, panting slightly as she gingerly lowered herself into a chair. She shook her head, rubbing her eyes with a revolted expression on her face. “And I really don't like that spell.”
“Most people don't,” Harry said cheerfully, lowering his wand and gazing around the room, noting that one of his last spells had felled a bookshelf and there was a small fire eating through the thick tomes.
“What, most people don't like you or most people don't like the spell?” Amanda said teasingly.
“A bit of both,” Harry answered slowly, staring at her critically. He snapped his fingers, dispelling the flames before they could grow any larger and gave Amanda a pointed look. “Isn't that why you wanted to learn it?”
“I'm just saying,” Amanda protested. “It feels…weird.”
“Caesus is meant to feel weird,” Harry told her with a roll of his eyes. “It numbs four of your senses and if you can't see or hear anything, then you're an easy target.” He scratched the underside eof his chin and frowned. “Huh. I think I need to learn a shaving charm. It's starting to get more irritating that you.”
“Wow,” Amanda uttered sarcastically. “I rank above your facial hair. I feel honoured.”
“Don't forget humbled,” Harry said and Amanda rolled her eyes. “Okay, brat, up you get. You've had a chance to practise your little spell. Now it's my turn.”
“What are you doing again?” Amanda asked warily as she stood up, her wand loosely clasped in her hand. “I don't like the idea of you poking through my mind.”
“I'm not poking,” Harry snapped and hesitated. “I'm just looking through the mail slot a little. Just to see what you're brain wants to do next.”
“Alright, fine,” Amanda muttered and raised her wand.
Harry caught her eye and, Meciel guiding his mind, he tentatively breached the first layer of her consciousness. It was an advanced form of Legilimency, a technique that Meciel had suggested he learn with his new array of human enemies- humans being the only species susceptible to it.
Almost immediately, a blurring rush of sound and colour overtook him. Fragments of chatter, laughter, whispers and sadness hit him in once, a chaotic din of memories and perceptions that Harry had no interest in. He frowned, shaking his head and focussing his will on what he wanted. The din died down to a mere buzz in the back of his head as he pressed forward, finally locating the section of her consciousness that dealt with movement.
“Go,” he said, his voice sounding hollow and distant to his ears.
Immediately, he could tell Amanda was going to raise her arm, pivot back on her left foot and flick her wand in a series of movements that he recognised as a stunning charm. He could sense her tongue starting to move, subconsciously licking her lips as she started to mutter the first syllables of the incantation.
'Now,' Meciel instructed carefully.
Harry lifted his wand and with a small flick he countered the spell, the glimmers of crimson light forming at the tip of Amanda's wand fading away before it could even form. Amanda blinked, scowled and flicked her wand again.
“Expell…” she started, but Harry parried the hex with almost unnatural speed, his presence in her mind allowing him to see what spell she was going to cast the instant she started.
“Keep it up,” Harry commanded, circling Amanda with a wide smile on his face.
“How are you doing that?” Amanda asked in wonder, starting the incantation of another spell only to have it countered before she had even cast it.
“I'm in your mind,” Harry remarked dryly and gave her a lecherous grin. “So you can stop focussing on my crotch or…what's this, well-defined muscles? Strikingly-handsome face? My, Amanda, these are some dirty thoughts right here!”
“Oh, shut up,” Amanda snapped lightly, a flush appearing on her pale skin. Her lips twitched despite herself.
The movement was enough to break Harry's eye-contact and he softly grunted as the mental link between them was cut off, a sharp flare of pain resounding in his head.
“Er…you can't really see stuff my mind, right?” Amanda asked a moment later, staring at Harry with something like dawning mortification.
“Maybe,” Harry lied smugly. “Why, is there something in there that you don't want me to see? You know, it's good to get things off you chest- especially if it's your shirt.”
Amanda flushed again and unconsciously smoothed down the front of her robes. She lowered her wand and crossed her arms over her chest, staring at Harry with a determined and embarrassed expression.
“You're not doing that again,” she declared firmly. She met Harry's darkened expression with a defiant toss of her head and the look in her eyes brooked no argument.
Harry chewed on his lip, half-tempted to force his way through her mind regardless. But Meciel's previous cautions on how easily it could be to inflict mental trauma on both the victim and the attacker kept him at bay, and in the end he lowered his wand and sighed.
“Fine,” he said grumpily. He stalked back over to the chairs and flopped himself down in one, muttering “sook” under his breath.
“So,” Amanda said cheerfully as Harry stalked over to the chairs. “What did you think?”
“Well, your technique was sloppy and your performance was poor,” Harry started with a grin. “On the plus side, you didn't spit…”
“Is there a chance that you could not be a pervert for just one minute?” Amanda asked in exasperation.
“Okay,” Harry shrugged and Amanda blinked. He turned around and looked at her inquisitively. “So, what did I think about what?”
“Er…yesterday,” Amanda said slowly. “The duel. I used that spell you're always raving on about.”
“Effodio,” Harry supplied and she nodded quickly, a bright smile on her face. “Well, I think you're a complete and utter moron who was lucky that her hands weren't blown off.”
“What?” Amanda said in surprise, almost flinching at his harsh tone. Harry noted a glimmer of hurt appear in her eyes as she took on a defensive stance, staring at him crossly. “What does that mean?”
“Okay, I might be able to learn powerful spells from a book but you can't,” Harry said, jabbing her in the chest and making her squeak. “Clearly, you're not me. For starters, I have a penis- and it's big.”
Amanda stared at him with a disgusted expression.
“Hey, the minute's over,” Harry said with a grin and she sighed. “Anyway, you don't have what I have,” and he tapped the side of his head meaningfully. “You are, for all purposes, a normal young witch. That means you're naturally pathetic. If that spell had backfired on you, well, you'd know it. So would the schmuck who'd have to piece you back together.”
“I…thought…” Amanda said hesitantly.
“There's a reason kids have Professors,” Harry said dryly. “If you had wanted to learn the spell then all you had to do was ask.” He gave her a pointed look. “You know how I am with teaching you dark magic. It makes me all warm and tingly feeling inside.”
“I thought you said that it wasn't dark magic,” Amanda said and she stared at Harry accusingly. The look of outrage on her face almost made Harry chuckle.
“It is according to the Ministry,” Harry shrugged carelessly. “Believe me, it can kill people.”
“You mean the same Ministry who doesn't want us knowing powerful spells?” Amanda asked with a sardonic snort. “The same Ministry who's trying to keep us at the bottom?”
“Who said that crap?” Harry snorted, rolling his eyes and feeling torn between irritation and snide amusement at Amanda's words. Really, what moron really believed in that type of conspiracy bullshit?
“You did!” Amanda exclaimed after a moment's pause. “Yesterday!”
“Oh,” Harry uttered and paused. He frowned and scratched his head. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Amanda nodded slowly, staring at Harry with a peculiar expression. She absently flicked her hair over her shoulder.
“It does sound like the sort of bullshit I'd pass around to shut people up,” Harry conceded. He frowned, genuine curiosity flickering over his face. “Why did you go behind my back about this spell?”
“What's it matter to you?” Amanda snorted. She slid her wand in her robes and gazed at Harry definitely, a strange emotion making her expression seem dull. “Why do you care anyway?”
“Well, I don't,” Harry admitted frankly. A tiny smile played on the end of his lips as he continued. “But you've gone and made me all excited and curious.”
“Harry, drop it,” Amanda said bluntly, bending over to gather her satchel of books from the ground. Harry watched her keenly, never one to deny an eyeful of female curves.
“What is it?” He pressed on, narrowing his eyes speculatively. He leaned forward in his chair, regarding Amanda with a broad grin.
“It's nothing,” Amanda said sharply.
“C'mon,” Harry said teasingly and Amanda growled.
“I wanted to impress you!” the blonde-haired girl snapped, whirling around and jabbing her finger in Harry's direction. “I'd thought you'd be pleased!”
The Room went silent as Harry started in surprise. He regarded Amanda with astonishment, his teasing grin He paused, opened his mouth and then closed it again. Amanda flushed under his gaze and lowered her eyes, unconsciously smoothing down her skirt.
“Well,” Harry said after a moment's pause. “It was a pretty good attempt.”
Amanda looked up, embarrassment giving way to surprise giving. A small grin played on her face as she peeked up at Harry from behind her bangs.
“Really?” She asked bashfully.
“Yeah,” Harry answered after a moment. He paused, feeling a little awkward and uncomfortable and hastily reasserted himself. “I mean, you could have blown yourself up so it's a wonder that you're still standing here, and, I'll admit, I definitely wasn't expecting it.”
“The look on your face was priceless,” Amanda said with hint of laughter in her voice. When Harry narrowed his eye she smoothed over her face and gave Harry a polite smile.
“Alright brat, you can go now,” Harry said after a moment's silence. He frowned, his mind already working ahead. “Me and Meciel have to work on Operation 'Ugly-Bitch-Gets-Raped'- and when I say raped, I mean anything and everything but. I wouldn't touch that puckered arse-hole of flab if it meant killing the Pope himself.”
“Do I want to know?” Amanda wondered softly, staring at Harry strangely. She frowned, squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “No, I probably don't.”
'Operation 'Ugly-Bitch-Gets-Raped'?' Meciel repeated slowly. 'The covert intelligence community hates you- you do realise that?'
'I think it's a perfectly good name for a covert operation,' Harry defended, leaning back against the stone wall.
'If you had your way, every new spell you learnt would be called the 'blows-shit-up' curse,' Meciel said. 'Or, in extreme cases, the 'blows-lots-of-shit-up' curse.'
'It gets the message across, doesn't it?' Harry asked. He kept a sharp eye on the portrait across the hallway from him but the frame was empty, the occupant wandering out somewhere.
'Perhaps,' Meciel conceded. 'But there's a certain level of decorum that we must keep for these sorts of situations. You- wait.'
Harry paused, frowning as Meciel adjusted his senses, absorbing in sensory information that his brain couldn't process. She studied it and Harry waited impatiently, idly tapping his fingers against the wall. A moment later Harry heard it, the loud and obnoxious laugh of the one he sought. He grinned and waited until the right moment before turning the corner.
Something collided into him, slick, small and platinum blonde, and Harry grunted, grabbing a fistful of the other boy's robes and giving him a rough push. Malfoy managed to give off a startled yelp as he toppled to the ground, his robes flapping uselessly.
“Whoa, what the hell are you doing?” Harry spat out, his eyes glinting coldly as he regarded the fallen boy. His lips curled into a smile of dark amusement. “Well, apart from falling on your arse.”
Malfoy, for his part, looked absolutely furious as the two thick boys by his side helped him up. His pale cheeks were stained with red blotches and he glared at Harry, his sneer more pronounced than ever.
“Potter!” He snapped. “You dare lay your filthy half-blood hands on me?”
Harry stared at Malfoy incredulously, failing to suppress a small snigger as his 'anger' faded away. “Do you really speak like that all of the time?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “Because it's kind of gay…”
“What are you doing, Potter!” Malfoy spat out. The two burly boys by his sides sneered and cracked their thick knuckles, trying their best to look menacing and intimidating.
“I'll ask again,” Malfoy hissed. “What are you doing here?”
Harry glanced at both boys with a flat expression on his face. Considering that Harry had faced down demons, drakons, faeries, vampires and dark lords, he could quite honestly say that two children didn't worry him at all.
“What does it look like I'm doing?” Harry drawled. “I'm knocking down eunuchs and lardballs. Ten points if they fall flat on their arse, twenty if you make them cry.”
Malfoy's eyes glittered, his teeth grinding in anger, and Harry felt a pang of amusement. Rage did not suit the almost-albino Slytherin, his pale cheeks approaching a blood-red colour and his breathing labouring to produce a rather annoying high-pitched whine.
“Don't!” Harry ordered coldly.
His arrogant smile disappeared in an instant as the two burly boys lumbered for him, their fists clenched. They paused at his command, glancing back at Malfoy for directions. The thin, pale blonde rolled his eyes and nodded impatiently and the two boys turned back to Harry, their piggy little eyes narrowing.
Harry whipped out his wand, his arm a literal blur as he levelled it at the first boy. Hellfire tinged in his mind as a crackling bolt of crimson magic burst forward, catching one of the boys in the chest. The boy gave a grunt, the force of the spell sending him off his feet and into one of the walls. He fell to the ground with a thunderous clash as Harry turned to the other, who was reaching into his robes. Harry waved his wand lazily and the boy howled as a whip-like crack shot through the air, an invisible force lashing against his hand with great force. His wand clattered to the ground and he backed away, clutching his sore fingers and glaring daggers at Harry.
“Ah, no,” Harry said, making a mild tutting noise. Malfoy paused, his hand frantically patting his robe for his wand. Harry's eyes glittered as Malfoy slowly lowered his hand, eying the tip of Harry's wand with a sudden rush of fear.
“What do you want, Potter?” Malfoy hissed, his eyes darting to the lumbering figures on the ground. One of them was groaning, struggling to stand as vestiges of crimson energy sparked and crackled around his form. The other was crouching by the wall, holding his hand with pain-filled eyes and glaring up at Harry.
“Hey, you bumped into me, eunuch,”:
“Stop calling me that,” Malfoy snapped. “I am not a eunuch!”
“I assumed from your girly voice that you were castrated before puberty,” Harry said mildly. Malfoy flushed. “I really don't want to see you prove me wrong so, sure, whatever you say, you walking pile of hippogriff piss.”
Malfoy's nostrils flared and his hand unconsciously crept for his robes, his eyes narrowed as genuine hatred burned within those pale orbs. Harry eyed the hand and smiled grimly.
“You know what, sure,” he said and lowered his wand. Malfoy paused, surprised by the unexpected development. “I tell you what. I'll let you go for your wand and you can get a free shot, no holding back. Afterwards, I will proceed to turn you into some kind of carrot and feed you to a rabbit.”
Malfoy's eyes widened and he licked his lips nervously. Harry nodded earnestly, gesturing at Malfoy to continue as he smiled derisively. With a sudden burst of determination, Malfoy reached into his robes and, with a dramatic flourish, pulled out…nothing.
“Very impressive,” Harry remarked dryly as Malfoy gaped at his empty hand. “I'm shaking in my boots over here. Are you sure I can't surrender now and spare myself the agony of your powerful nothing.” '
“What…?” Malfoy started, frantically patting his robes as he searched for his wand.
Harry watched as he scrambled for his satchel, ripping it open and emptying the contents onto the ground. Bottles of ink smashed as they hit the ground but Malfoy ignored the black liquid staining his robes and hands as he frenetically searched for his wand.
“Where's my wand?” Malfoy hissed. He picked up a book, 'Defensive Magical Theory', and lobbed it at the large boy lying on his back. “You! Crabbe! Did you touch my wand?”
“You're kidding, right?” Harry said and Malfoy, paused, glaring up at Harry with hate-filled eyes. “You don't have a wand?” He lowered his wand and rolled his eyes. “You know what, I don't have time for to duel a moron who can't even find his own damn wand. That's pretty pathetic, Malfoy- even the crappiest wizards know where their wands are.”
Harry turned around and walked away, snickering to himself as Malfoy started rounding into his two accomplices, his high-pitched whine echoing through the dungeons. He turned a corner and started heading back to the Great Hall.
'How careless for him to lose his wand like that,' Meciel remarked lightly.
“Yes,” Harry said, grinning in satisfaction. He reached up his sleeves and pulled out a slim wand, the one he had snatched from Malfoy when he had first bumped into him. “It's very careless of him, isn't it?”
He snorted in amusement, shaking his head and slipped the wand back into his robes. “And you said I'd look like Oliver Twist.”
'You are British and you are an orphan,' Meciel said. 'I was merely pointing out the similarities.'
“Hang on, didn't he go and live with a prostitute or something?” Harry asked, scratching his head in thought. A lecherous grin slipped over his face. “On second thoughts…”
'Pervert,' Meciel muttered into his ear, almost too soft for Harry to hear.
“Sorry?” Harry enquired pointedly.
'Nothing,' Meciel answered.
Harry rolled his eyes and turned a corner, only to come to a sudden halt as he almost ran into somebody else- this time, by accident. Professor Umbridge stared down at him with her cold eyes, a wide smile plastered over her flabby face.
“Professor,” Harry greeted after a moments pause. “I was just thinking about you- all good things,” he reassured her quickly with a brilliant smile
“I'm sure, Mr Potter,” Umbridge said sweetly, her eyes running up and down him in a way that almost made him squirm. “Just what were you doing there in those dreadfully dreary dungeons?”
“You know, you're the second person to ask me that today,” Harry mused. He smiled. “Well, I'm collecting donations for the annual Ministry Ball. Care to be a sponsor?”
“You shouldn't lie, Mr Potter,” Umbridge said sharply. “I know for a fact that the Ministry doesn't have any balls.”
Harry blinked and made an odd strangled sound in his throat, trying with all his might to suppress the bubbling laughter in his chest. Umbridge didn't seem to recognise the significance of what she had just said and stared down at Harry with narrowed eyes. In all fairness, his strained smile and purpling face would have looked quite odd to those out of the loop.
'I have no response to that,' Meciel murmured.
“Well,” Harry coughed after a moment's pause. “That's…good to know.” He let out another strangled cough. “Have a good day, Professor.”
“I'm sure I will, Mr Potter,” Umbridge said sweetly. The squat woman strolled off, leaving Harry alone.
“Oh, but I'm sure you won't,” Harry muttered darkly, fingering Malfoy's wand beneath his robes.
“Good evening, dearies,” Dolores greeted sweetly, plastering a smile over her face as she left the Great Hall. The group of third years mumbled something back and quickly scurried away, no doubt conspiring to do mischief away from the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts.
Really, Dolores thought with a sniff of disdain, some of these little rascals needed to learn some proper manners. It was the muggleborns that were the rudest and she thought that they could stand to learn some of the etiquette that the more upstanding members of the Pureblood community displayed.
Dolores turned a corner and paused, narrowing her beady eyes and staring down the corridor. The lamps on one side of the corridor had been extinguished. She shook her head reproachfully, disgust welling up within her. The whole castle would fall to bits if that old fool Dumbledore had been allowed to have his way any longer.
She started to walk down the corridor, her mind elsewhere as she pondered the new Educational Decrees that she had to have the Ministry sign. The children were restless and too many of them still displayed loyalty, unconscious or not, to the old fool. What was worse, there were many who regarded Potter with awe or respect, his arrogance only reinforcing the tales of his skills and power. That blonde girl, the hang-on, was the worse and although Dolores had been reluctant to meet with Potter alone since that incident in detention, she had no qualms about taking her frustration and anger out on the American.
Potter- now there was a boy that Dolores could hate with ease. Despite his cordial attitude to her since the detention, Dolores could see the glint of darkness that lay beneath the boys icy emerald eyes. He was dark wizard, she was sure of it! She knew enough of dark magic to recognise the signs. So far it seemed that only Dumbledore and the Wardens (yes, she was quite aware of the White Council, although any attempts to find out more had been so far unsuccessful) had been able to keep a check on him.
Well, she thought firmly. When she became Headmistress, Potter was going to learn a thing or two about respect for his betters. His lazy and smarmy attitude would no longer be tolerated. She knew that he had somehow insulted her when he had met her earlier that day but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out how. So caught up in her thoughts, Dolores failed to hear the almost-silent footsteps approaching from behind her.
“Ventungo!” Somebody hissed.
Dolores whirled around as the sound of the voice, opening her mouth to berate them endlessly, when a agonising sensation struck her in the abdomen. She doubled over, her loud scream ripping through the air and her wand shaking in her suddenly-pale knuckles.
“Navictus!” She screamed, brandishing her wand into the darkness form where the curse had come.
Light pooled into the tip of her wand a bight bolt of azure energy zapped forward, crackling against stone as it missed the unseen attacker completely. For an single moment, the darkened hallways was bathed in bright blue light and Umbridge caught a glimpse of fiery eyes wreathed in an cloud of shadow. Then white light exploded in her vision and she was hurled aside, her wand flying from her hands. She slammed into the ground, crying out in pain as anger and fear swelled within her.
“I am the Undersecretary of the Minister of Magic!” She shrieked, clambering for her wand, her flabby hand desperately patting down the stone floor. “You cannot do this to me!”
“But I can,” somebody whispered menacingly, the voice too indistinct for Dolores to recognise. The High Inquisitor shuddered at the sound of a loud girly giggle and there was something frightening about the innocent sound. The fiery eyes gleamed and Umbridge caught a glimpse of a slim wand rising from the shadows.
“We all can,” the voice whispered softly.
Dolores screamed as the wand flashed with a bright light, her skin suddenly exploding in a painful array of rashes and boils. She clutched at her face as the next hex causes blood to leak from the back of her eyes. Thankfully, for her, the next spell caused her to lapse into unconsciousness and she knew no more of the attack.
It had been a fun interlude, Harry mused as he stared down at the pox-covered Professor, idly twirling Malfoy's wand in his hand. His eyes gleamed behind the illusionary shroud around him and for a moment, he was tempted to cause some permanent damage to the ugly cow. Hellfire flickered in his mind but Harry suppressed it, whirling around as he heard running footsteps approach and disappearing behind one of the secret passageways. The wand clattered to the ground, the only trace that somebody had been there a few moments ago.
Dolores awoke to the sight of the hospital wing, a sympathetic nurse forcing a small vial of potion down her throat. Her body ached and her head was light, but a spark of fury ignited deep in her stomach as the school nurse began to remove the hexes from her person.
She would find out who had dared to attack her and she would make them pay. The fiery eyes flashed in her mind and she shuddered, fear coiling in her belly. Suddenly she felt a little less sure of herself and she shivered, draping the blanket around her and trying to remove those damning eyes from her mind.