Harry Potter and the Sword of the Hero

HARRY POTTER AND THE SWORD OF THE HERO

Chapter 20 - The Beginning of Our Story

When you have to kill a man, it costs
nothing to be polite

--Winston Churchill

Dear Harry,

I guess if you're reading this I'm dead. Went out in some brave act of heroism saving many lives and taking many Death Eater's with me... well either that or Buckbeak finally had enough and crushed me. Those are the only two alternatives I see, so I hope it was the former. I've left everything to you and Moony... have a good life, Harry. You more than anyone deserves it.

As I write this the date is April 30^th 1996. I'm sorry I won't be there to see you grow up, not that you had far to go when I last saw you. You're the bravest, strongest person I've had the pleasure to know, Harry. You're so much like your father at times it's impossible to see a difference between you two. I've tried my best to take James' place as the father figure in your life, but at times it seemed that you were the one guiding me. Its because of you I escaped that godforsaken island; it's because of you I had the strength to carry on. Thank you, Harry.

If you're blaming yourself for my death in any way, don't. I probably did something incredibly stupid like popping off down to the Auror division to greet some old friends. Wherever I am, know that I don't blame you, and no one else, especially you, should either. Also know that wherever I am James will probably be there as well, knocking the stuffing out of me for leaving you on your own.

Make sure you continue to live, Harry, now I'm gone. I know it's hard, I know you haven't had the easiest of lives. After James and Lily were gone I completely lost it, and ended up in Azkaban for twelve damn years. I know that death hurts, but don't dwell on me for too long. I wouldn't want you to waste away what precious childhood you have left grieving for an old Marauder like me.

I know you probably feel like the world is a cruel place to live in right now. What with everything it has thrown at you... but there is some good in it, you know that, that's why you've fought since that bitter Halloween night. You have two of the greatest friends a person could ask for, I did once before choice set in and killed us all, don't lose them, don't push them away. Open up a bit, you've got emotional walls built up around yourself higher than Azkaban's, there are people out there who are more than willing to help you. Don't shy away from that. I know that my death has probably hurt you, I know because I would feel the same way if I had lost you. If I died protecting you, Harry, then I fully believe that my life was not wasted. You were all that existed for me the past fifteen years, you made the Hell that was Azkaban a Hell worth living.

Some people in this world are going to expect too much from you in the near future, Harry. Know this now that you make your own choices in life, don't let others decide your path for you. I'm talking about the people that at the same time hide you from the truth, tell you nothing, and then expect you to do the unimaginable for them. If you're wondering what the hell I'm talking about, then put this letter down right now and go and see Dumbledore. Ask him about the prophecy. If you don't know, go now, stop reading....

Yes, Harry. I knew of the prophecy. James told me sixteen years ago the night you were born. You can't begin to understand how devastating it was, that you, a baby, were expected to defeat him. It seemed impossible! He was the strongest Dark lord ever, and you were still in nappies. By now you're probably wondering why I didn't tell you sooner. I held Dumbledore in too high of a regard not to respect his wishes. He told me you weren't ready to know; at the time I believed he was right, you were too young. My opinion on that matter soon changed of course. All of this year I've wanted to tell you, since you saw him resurrected. It seemed only fair, but again Dumbledore intervened.

Don't blame the old man, Harry, I don't. He has dealt with more than anyone could ever know. His choices in life have never been easy, rather like yours. If he wanted to keep your childhood peaceful for a little while longer who was I to stop him? It seemed like the right idea at the time... now I see we were just delaying the inevitable. I want you to know, Harry, that no matter what anyone says you don't have to live up to this prophecy. Nothing controls your life, your fate is what you make it, this war shouldn't be your problem.

Though knowing you you've already begun to fight, fighting a war that shouldn't have to be fought. It's just who you are, you are your father's son, and like him never one to back down from a challenge, however immense it may be. You've chosen to fight, no matter what I write I know it in my heart that you will fight. You're one of the few good men in this world Harry, that care more about others than they do themselves. There are so few of you that the world may seem a greedy, unforgiving place to live. Don't let this world break you! You have proven time and time again that despite the odds you can pull through, to carry on living, to carry on protecting those you care about. You are who you choose to be, and right now I couldn't be more proud for what you have chosen. Through it all, through the years of misery in the Muggle world, and the trials faced while at Hogwart's you still managed to turn out all right without anyone to guide you. I know I have no need to worry that you will continue to shine without me. You have your whole life ahead of you, and wonderful people, wonderful friends to spend it with. Find happiness, find love. True love is what your parents had, find it yourself and treasure it beyond all else.

These may seem just like empty words now, Harry, what with the enormity of your task still lying ahead of you, but one day... I know you're strong enough to overcome his evil, to finally claim a life you have been denied. Sadly, though, I'm no longer there to help you along the way, not that you ever needed me.

As I've said above, Harry, the world can be a very unforgiving place, but it can also be a very beautiful place. Find what's good in your life and hold on to it, fight for it with every ounce of your being. This is the last advice I give you as your guardian, as your godfather, and as someone who loves you dearly. God speed, Harry and good luck with whatever you do in life, I know without a shadow of a doubt that you will succeed.

From this Life to the next,

Sirius Black

Harry held the letter loosely in his shaking hands. The curtains around his bed shielded him from the world at the moment, but he knew the instant they were opened it would come bursting in like the morning rays of sunlight over the distant mountains. He had read and re-read the letter at least half a dozen times and each time he had felt a plethora of emotions. Emotions ranging from fear, to anger, to love, to acceptance, to grief, to loss, to resentment, but always in the end coming back to closure.

That's what he'd hoped he would get from this letter, and he had found it. Closure! From a death that shouldn't have been. That had torn him away from the very foundations his life was built on, made him question his own need or want for life. Even though he was long dead, Sirius himself had helped guide him to overcome his death.

"Thank you, Sirius," Harry whispered, letting fall a silent tear onto the parchment. "Oh god, thank you!" It was a relief, such a relief. All the grief and guilt seemed to fall away with Sirius' words, to be replaced by the love his godfather had had for him. It was a truly happy feeling, not a dark one. There was nothing to worry about anymore, Sirius believed in him. It didn't matter that he knew the prophecy, he had his reasons for keeping it hidden, and Harry respected that.

With a deep breath, Harry carefully folded the letter and returned it to its envelope. A small smile spread across his face as he held the envelope tightly in his hands. He had accepted it, accepted his death. Sirius was truly gone... dead, but however much that that may hurt, it was okay. Harry had accepted it. But what did that leave him with?

Harry felt a deep beating in his chest, it was his heart. He had been left with love for his godfather. Find what's good in your life and hold on to it, fight for it with every ounce of your being. Sirius' last advice, what he wished for Harry to do, to be! Well thought Harry, drying his eyes. What's good in my life...? His thoughts instantly fell on his friends, and the rest of the Weasley family, and this castle and the innocent students it held, or would hold tomorrow. Sirius's letter had hardened his will, his resolve to fight, to destroy the evil that was quickly getting its cold grasp over their world. It didn't belong here, and now Harry realised, beyond anything that he had ever known, he had the determination to destroy it... once and for all.

There was a low grumbling in Harry's stomach and he put his hand across it. God I'm hungry he thought. His last meal had been breakfast, which was... Harry looked at his watch... nine hours ago! With a start Harry jumped up and out of the bed, casting aside the curtains. He hadn't realised he'd been sitting there for so long. Four hours he thought, it took me fours hours to read that letter... and to accept it. Harry would have laughed if his stomach hadn't emitted another low growl.

Slipping his trainers back on, he walked to the base of his bed and flipped open the lid of his trunk. His eyes instantly fell on Ethan's dagger, reflecting the light of a torch on the wall. Harry placed his letter on top of it, silently reminding himself to get a sheath for it the next time he was in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley.

Harry felt a bit stifled in his robes so he pulled them over his head and took them off, leaving him in his jeans and shirt, much more comfortable. Before heading downstairs, he walked over to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, to wash away the weariness he now felt. It had been a long day, and his bruises from training with Dermas were aching, so the water felt like a new awakening. As he looked into the mirror, Harry absently ran a finger down his scar, it tingled slightly at his touch and Harry could feel the magic there, it practically radiated from it. He sighed and turned away.

With a slight spring in his step Harry walked down the stairs, anxious to get to dinner in the Great Hall. He came to the bottom of the stairs and caught a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye, coming from the base of the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry turned and stared into the surprised face of Ginny Weasley.

"Harry?" she said, stopping in surprise when she saw him. "I didn't know you were here?"

Harry smiled, and he subconsciously twirled the ring from Ginny around on the tip of his finger, she noticed this and smiled as well. "I've been up in the dorm all afternoon," he said. "Sorting out a few things...."

"Is everything okay, Harry?" she asked as the two of them began to walk out of the common room, passed the empty chairs and blazing fireplace.

Harry truly thought about this question before answering. His automatic response would have been 'yes', but Sirius's letter had thrown a few things into perspective. So when Harry answered, he answered honestly. "You know what, Gin. I think everything will be...."

He and Ginny walked down through the long halls of Hogwarts together, both heading to the Great hall. Ginny told him that Hermione and Ron had gone down ten minutes ago; she had stayed a bit longer to change clothes. Apparently they had spent the day down at Hagrid's. He and Ginny entered the Hall the same moment as Professor McGonagall, who gave them a rare, warm smile before entering. "Potter, may I have a word with you please?" she asked, glancing at Ginny. "Alone...."

Ginny looked between Harry and McGonagall for a moment before nodding, and turning away, heading over to the partially full circular table in the centre of the Hall. "What is it, Professor?" asked Harry from the door, he was just inside the Hall.

Professor McGonagall smiled again, and this time Harry saw a profound respect in her eyes. "I have found you a griffin, Harry," she said.

Harry frowned for a moment before it all became clear. Of course he thought. I'd completely forgotten... animagus training. "Great," replied Harry, smiling and truly meaning it. "Where is it?"

"It'll be here within the week. Express delivery from the Sierra Nevada mountain range in the United States. I've been told it is quite a lively specimen."

Harry and McGonagall began to walk over to the table; Harry gave his friends a small wave. "So how long do you think it is going to take now?" he asked. "You know, until I can transform."

McGonagall frowned with thought. "I expect two months, maybe less. You never cease to amaze us, Harry. I trust you'll manage it."

They had reached the table now so all talk stopped; his animagus training was a secret to all. I'll have to practice all those other things I learnt he thought, taking a seat next to Hermione, in between her and Ginny. And I have to prepare for all the other training I'll be doing from tomorrow onwards, and I have to prepare the DA. I've got a lot to do....

"So how was our day?" asked Harry happily, thinking of Sirius's letter. It had helped him so much.

Hermione looked nervous, and to her left Harry saw that Ron did as well. "Are you okay?" she asked, her eyes piercing into his, trying to detect a hint of his emotions.

"I'm a lot better than I've been for awhile," he said happily, truthfully. Hermione saw the truth in his words. "A lot better, so is Remus. We had a talk, finally."

Hermione smiled and Ron did as well. "Everything at the bank went all right then?" asked Ron, holding Hermione's hand.

Harry looked across the table at Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who had just sat down. They smiled knowingly at their daughter and Ron. Harry turned back to Ron, and his question. "I'd say it went all right," nodded Harry, grabbing a goblet full of pumpkin juice and taking a heavy drink. His throat felt dry. "Sirius..." Harry smiled, shaking his head, and biting into his steak.

********

"TWENTY FOUR MILLION GALLEONS! BLOODY HELL," shouted Ron, half an hour later as the four of them sat around the common room fire, opening Harry's mail.

Harry laughed at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, all their mouths hanging open, like those clowns at the carnival that moved back and forth. They were the only ones in the common room, for today anyway, tomorrow the castle would be full of students again, and, remembered Harry, his unique training would officially begin.

"I never knew Sirius was so rich," commented Ginny, frowning at the letter she had just opened. "This isn't a nice one," she whispered, crunching it up and throwing it into the fire.

Harry smiled at her. "He wasn't for a time. The money sat in Gringotts for almost two decades untouched. As his family had died and he was sent to Azkaban, interest accumulated...." Harry mused, smiling at the fan letter he was holding. It was from Angelina Johnson, previous Gryffindor, Chaser on the Quidditch team, and a good friend of Harry's. She supported him to the very end with the prophecy, saying that if he ever needed anything she'd help.

"Well Divination is going to be lonely without you," sulked Ron, also realising that tomorrow the new term started and Harry was gone, to do what he had to do. "Whose death is Trelawney going to predict now?"

"Don't know?" smiled Harry, abandoning the mail and leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes. "Don't care." As Harry began to relax a vicious shot of pain ripped through his scar. It made him sit up with a jerk, and subconsciously raise a hand to his forehead.

"What is it?" asked Hermione quickly, also forgetting the letters she was opening.

"What did you see, Harry?" Ginny asked as well.

Harry frowned and rubbed his scar lightly. "Not sure... I think a Death Eater has just been given the Mark... but I'm not sure, it was very vague...."

Ron seemed to sigh with relief. "Well that's good. Means he's far away if your scar isn't reacting that much..."

Harry thought about this for a moment. "I wouldn't be so sure...." he said slowly. Something told him otherwise, but it was only a nagging suspicion, and those were the ones that Harry had come to trust the most.

*****

"My Lord, preparations for the 21^st have begun. All will be ready come the equinox."

"See that it is," hissed an unseen voice in the darkness. All the Death Eater saw of his Master were two pitiless red eyes, shining in a dark corner where the shadows seemed to be drawn. "You are dismissed."

The Death Eater bowed low to the Dark Lord and quickly exited the room, fear evident in his step to all.

"The Vernal Equinox...." Voldemort whispered to himself. "Our prophecy will be broken, Potter...."

*****

Harry awoke to Monday, the first day of the new term. He glanced at his watch as he sat slowly up in bed. It was 11:30. That surprised him; for months he'd been waking up early, nightmares plaguing his sleep, but now, as he cast his mind back to last night, he couldn't recall a single nightmare. For one night he had been free, and had earned some much needed sleep in the process.

After showering Harry put on a clean pair of clothes and headed down into the common room. It was empty. He didn't know where his friends could have gone, but it was coming up lunch time, they may be in the Great Hall or on their way to it.

So Harry set off down through the castle, as he'd done so many times before. The endless portraits and cold suits of armour reeled past as he came to the moving staircases. After carefully navigating himself down, Harry came to the top of the stairs that overlooked the Entrance Hall.

All was quiet here, and the great doors to the castle were open, swinging loudly on their hinges. A cold breeze blew up from these doors and hit Harry at the top of the stairs. Harry frowned, things were getting unnerving. He found the lack of people in the castle rather strange and worrying. But just at that moment one of the doors on the first floor below him opened, it was the door to Divination class, Firenze's divination class. After a moment the centaur himself walked through and out the doors, his piercing deep blue eyes taking in his surroundings immediately and falling onto Harry just as quick.

"Harry Potter," nodded Firenze, a look of respect in his dazzling eyes.

"Hello, Professor," said Harry, coming down the stairs two at a time. He walked over to the centaur.

"I have been meaning to speak with you," said Firenze, his hooves clacking on the cold stone as he moved.

Harry frowned. "About?"

Firenze held his gaze for a moment. "Please follow me," the centaur said eventually and then turned and headed back into the room he'd just come out of. Harry followed with the mingled feelings of confusion and anxiety assaulting him. He wanted to find his friends.

Firenze's classroom, made to look like his natural habitat of the forest, was blanketed in darkness. The trees were casting dark shadows with the small star and moonlight that hit them. Harry always found it a strange feeling to go walking from the light of day, and into the night of the classroom. He followed Firenze into the very centre of the forest clearing; at this point the calm centaur gazed up into the star speckled heavens.

"Do you know how imprecise the art of Divination can be, Harry Potter?" asked Firenze after a long moment. "How no Fate is certain?"

Harry didn't answer; he followed the centaur's gaze up into the stars and saw mixed within the white light, the tinge of red on one of the astral bodies. It was the planet Mars.

"You see the ever glowing red of the planet Mars?" asked Firenze. Harry nodded. "It has been growing a deeper shade of crimson ever year, for fifteen years. Do you know what this means?"

"No...." whispered Harry, feeling very small with the massive universe of creation wheeling over his head.

"Mars is the planet of war. Long held sacred by the centaurs, respected. We dare not challenge its power," whispered Firenze, and Harry heard the respect on his voice, which was mingled with fear. "As Mars turns darker so shall Evil." Firenze had turned to look at Harry now; his blue eyes seemed to look into his very soul. Harry felt very self conscious.

"Is that what you wanted to tell me?" asked Harry.

"Not entirely," answered Firenze, stomping his hoof once. "Do you remember what I told you three months ago, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded. Firenze had read the heavens, and had predicted some pretty heavy stuff. Some of it had involved the death of someone he loved, and he being the only one strong enough to face the coming evil. He was the last hope... or something like that.

"I stand by what I said," nodded the centaur, and then seemed to regard Harry for a moment, as a crystal blue tear fell from his eyes, reflected magnificently in the star light. "The centaurs," he began slowly, "have been guarding a secret for centuries, almost a millennium in fact. No one but a centaur has ever known it in that time." Harry didn't know what to say, so he frowned with a little understanding. "I am about to tell you that secret, Harry Potter...."

Harry blinked in surprise. "What... why?"

Firenze held his gaze for a moment, and then turned away once more, his eyes searching the cosmos desperately for an answer long sought, but was never there. 'A thousand years ago your ancestor, Godric Gryffindor, destroyed the first incarnation of true Evil. It was then that the Planet of War was slowly tinged red. Do you understand yet?"

"No...." Harry answered again, not understanding.

"During that war countless thousands, maybe even millions lost their lives. And Mars then was only slightly tinged.... for almost one thousand years the light of Mars remained the same, never changing, remaining relatively peaceful. Then fifteen years ago it began to darken. We centaurs at the time could scarcely belief our eyes."

"What does that mean?" asked Harry.

Firenze sighed, something Harry had never known him to do. "If millions died in a war where Mars was ever so slightly tinged. How many do you think would die in a war where the very surface runs crimson red?"

Harry opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. If he understood Firenze correctly... god save us all. "Are you saying billions of people are going to die?"

Firenze nodded, but there was doubt in his eyes. "As I said divination is a very imprecise art. Even centaurs have been wrong from time to time."

"But do you believe what you've just told me?" asked Harry, taking a step forward. He had a grudging respect for prophecy, and fortune telling. What with being a key figure in a pretty important one.

There was a long silent moment, at which the end of Firenze slowly nodded. "A great battle is coming, that much is clear. At its peak stand the Dark Lord and yourself. The Planet of War grows ever darker with every passing month, and more and more signs in the heavens begin to show that an end is coming."

"What end?" asked Harry nervously.

"The end to the last Great War between Good and Evil...." said Firenze solemnly. "Where the Fate of all life upon this Earth will be decided by your actions, Harry Potter." The centaur whispered the last part sadly, as if he found it unfair.

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, realising what Firenze was trying to say. "Are you saying you've seen an outcome to the war?"

"No... I have seen your death...." Firenze let those words hang in the air for a moment while Harry stared wide eyed at him. "The heavens never lie, Mr. Potter, never. In the next few months you will cease to be a part of this worl-"

"What makes you so sure?" cut in Harry, not wanting to believe the centaur. "Have you actually seen me die?"

The Centaur stomped his hoof again. "No, Harry Potter I have not, but I have seen what may come to pass, should you fail to defeat him... soon."

"And what is that?" asked Harry, a bit annoyed at the constant riddles centaurs seemed to talk in.

"It does not matter," whispered Firenze, shaking his head. "It will happen whether I tell you or not...."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Harry, taking a step forward until he was eye level with Firenze.

Those infinitely clear, sparkling blue eyes that held so much intelligence were bored into by Harry's equally deep emerald green ones. Firenze regarded him for a moment before answering, his question hanging in the air. How can you be so sure?

"How could I see the future if it didn't already exist?" answered Firenze, raising his eyebrows in the clear moon light. Harry stepped back slightly.

"...If that's true... then why bother to do anything?" asked Harry.

"Now you're beginning to understand," nodded Firenze. "That question is one that I have asked myself many times... the best I can do is put you on the right path, Harry Potter. It is your place to do the rest."

Harry sighed, not really wanting to believe this. Who would? he thought. "And what path would that be...?"

Firenze's gaze became absolutely cold as ice, serious beyond any doubt. "Avoid the circle of light," he whispered, the strongest conviction Harry had ever heard in his voice. "Fate and Destiny seem to have chosen you to fight this war for the good of all, Harry Potter. This circle, which you see in your dreams, will rip the very meaning of your existence from this world. To where it will take you I do not know, maybe into death, as I have seen."

Harry stared silently at the planet of war above him in the heavens, its dark tinge clearly evident. I control my own life he thought. Sirius said it in his letter. No prophecy rules my life; I'm free to choose how I live... He turned to face Firenze. "Divination is an imprecise art, Professor," he said smoothly, truthfully, and a little bitterly. "And centaurs have been known to be wrong from time to time."

There was a glint of what Harry thought may have been amusement in Firenze's eyes, but the seriousness of his words seemed to belie that. "I wish you good day, Harry Potter," the centaur nodded, no emotion in his voice. "And I strive to believe that the hope this world has in you has not been misplaced...."

Harry nodded to Firenze once, and then turned away, heading back out through the door he'd entered only twenty minutes ago. God damn it he thought. The moment I get some part of my life on track, another part blows itself spectacularly to pieces.... He sighed and tuned towards the Great Hall, hoping his friends were there. I'll have to think about this later....

With a heavy sigh and a small shake of his head, Harry set off across the Entrance Hall towards the Great Hall. He didn't get halfway across before the sounds and shouts of a lot of people reached his ears. He turned to the open doors of the castle and saw beyond them that the carriages, carrying students from Hogsmeade, had begun to arrive. The first few carriages were depositing their students now, and a great line wheeled right down the path and onto the Hogsmeade road.

It had been just over two weeks since the Christmas break had begun. Harry felt as if he had lived years in those two weeks. He could remember waving to Dumbledore on the Hogwarts Express as he left on the 23^rd of December. Four days later he had had his face torn to shreds by shrapnel, the bone in his left arm snapped through his flesh, his nose crushed, and a very sore scar ripping his forehead open. That was followed by days of recovery, a few days of relaxation, then Trask's arrival and with that came the bruises, and finally Sirius' will reading yesterday afternoon. It had been a long, eventful, painful, emotional holiday. Not really a holiday at all he thought.

The first students up the castle steps were a group of Gryffindor first years. Harry couldn't place their names, but he had seen them many times around the castle. "Welcome back, lads," he said as they drew near him.

Their first reaction was to gape at Harry, not quite believing that he was talking to them. They had all seen the Prophet article. Eventually one of them spoke. "Hi..." he said a bit shakily.

"You have a good break?" asked Harry, noticing how nervous he was making them.

One of them opened their mouths to say something, but they were cut off as another, unwanted voice rang across the hall. "Potter," spat Malfoy, entering the castle flanked by his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Go away, Malfoy," said Harry dangerously, as the three Slytherins pushed the first year Gryffindor's out of the way. "I really don't want to hear what you've got to say."

Malfoy ignored what he said. "Think you stand a chance against the Dark Lord?" he whispered under his breath, as Crabbe and Goyle smiled stupidly.

"Yes," answered Harry unexpectedly, surprising even himself.

Malfoy blinked, not expecting a straightforward answer like that. "Then you're more of a fool than I already thought," he spat, pure hatred etched into his features.

Harry didn't say anything; he just turned and began walking away. It took him his all to do that, when what he really wanted to do was wipe the smirk of the git's face. For his own part Malfoy cursed Harry under his breath, and began to walk towards the dungeons.

Harry entered the Great Hall a little more annoyed with today than he'd planned to be. What with Malfoy's insults and Firenze's predictions of death and doom, the day had definitely taken a turn for the worse. Harry instantly saw his friends eating at the now elongated house tables, which had been returned for the new term.

"Hello," he said, sitting down and picking up an apple. "Hows things?"

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger all said hello in return and asked him where he had been. "Slept in," he said truthfully. It wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the whole truth. He didn't want to worry them any more than he already did.

"Everyone's started to arrive back now," Harry told them, taking a bite of his apple.

"There not the only people to arrive," said Ginny, nodding up to the High table.

Harry followed her gaze and saw that the High table had been extended, extended to seat another six people. He saw the six of them seated there now, next to Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape, and Hagrid. He instantly knew who they were, his new teachers. The people who had agreed to come and help train him. There were three men and three women, of which Harry only recognised one, Dermas Trask. Trask caught his gaze and gave him a friendly wave, Harry returned it.

"Well it's going to be an interesting term," stated Harry.

"I hope it's nothing like the last one," whispered Ron moodily. "Too much happened last term."

Harry nodded his agreement, but what did Ron expect... they were at war. A war that was just beginning to get a grasp on this world, which may claim a lot of lives if Firenze was to be believed. The house tables slowly filled up around them as more and more people continued to arrive. Harry greeted all his friends from each house as they passed him, and promised the DA members that there would be a meeting soon. An important meeting... thought Harry, shaking Seamus' hand and accepting his thanks about the prophecy.

After about half an hour the tables were full of people and the regular hustle and bustle of Hogwarts life was back in full swing. Harry listened to all the stories being told around him about what people had gotten up to over the Christmas break. He also heard the whispers of people who were talking about him.

"Yes, it said he would defeat You-Know-Who!"

"There's always something going on with him, never gets a break."

"In the Prophet. You didn't read it?"

"I hope he wins, my mum told me all about the first war. God I hope he wins."

"Do you really think he'll do it? Face You-Know-Who."

Harry sighed and smiled slightly at all the conversations flying around the Hall. He had long since grown use to the whispers about him, but it was nice to hear that some people had faith in him.

"Trying to get a handle on it all?" asked a friendly voice from across the table.

Harry looked up and into the eyes of this person. "Yeah...." he sighed. "I just hope I don't let them down, Ginny."

Ginny smiled brilliantly at him. A smile filled with trust, hope, belief, and something else Harry couldn't place that spread to her eyes. "You won't," she said simply, without a waver of doubt in her voice. "It's just not who you are."

"You really believe that?"

"Of course I do," she answered seriously. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

It was at this moment that Albus Dumbledore rose from his chair at the High table and raised his hands for silence. It took a moment but eventually the Hall grew quiet. Dumbledore smiled to the school in general.

"Welcome back to another term at Hogwarts," he said warmly, his gaze passing over them all briefly. "A few start of term notices before lunch ends. In the light of recent events, until further notice, Hogsmeade weekends are cancelled."

Almost instantly a wave of angry whispers broke out amongst the years of third and up. Dumbledore gave a moment, before continuing. "It is for your protection. The war is starting to affect us in many different ways. Indeed it appears Hogwarts is one of the only safe places left in our world. That's not to say Hogsmeade weekends are gone forever. If it is deemed safe by the staff and myself, they may still go ahead."

There was a grumble of agreement from the population of the Hall. They weren't happy, but it was how it had to be. "On a lighter note. Our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody." Dumbledore gestured to Moody, sitting halfway down the table next to Trask. "Professor Moody has agreed to teach an extra class every Saturday afternoon. Students of fifth year and above are encouraged to take part in these defensive lessons." He looked around the hall one more time fondly. "Thank you, that is all."

Everybody returned to their conversations, a little more gloomily as Hogsmeade had been cancelled. Harry heard a few people questioning the appearance of the six strangers sitting up at the table, and why Dumbledore hadn't given an explanation as to why they were here. Harry was glad he hadn't, it would only give the hall another reason to talk about him. That thing about safety was good though. Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to attack Hogsmeade if he couldn't get Hogwarts and would most likely raze both of them to the ground if he had the chance.

Later that night the common room was alive with start of term excitement. Friends discussed their Christmas' with other friends, exchanged forgotten Christmas presents, and avoided looking Harry in the eye. Harry was sitting in his chair by the fire with Ron and Hermione, they were just talking but Harry could see people looking at him out of the corner of his eye. It was annoying really, for when he looked up they turned away quickly and pretended they hadn't been staring at him.

Some people did talk to him though. Seamus, Dean, and Neville sat by the fire with them for a while, but Dean had asked where Ethan was and the conversation had taken a dive right there, and eventually sunk. Harry told them what happened after which they left, looking quite shaken. Parvati and Lavender came and said hello, and as Harry was walking up to the common room earlier on, Luna Lovegood had stopped him on the stairs and told him he would win because he would. It hadn't made much sense.

There was also some excitement over Moody's extra class on Saturdays. Many people had already signed up. Ron and Hermione had, but Harry had refrained, not entirely sure if it would effect his training in any way. He didn't know what to expect as of yet, so anything could happen.

"If it's anything like the duels we've been doing in class," muttered Ron, staring lazily into the fire, Hermione's head resting on his chest. He was absently making circles with his hand on her shoulder. "Then it shouldn't be too bad. In fact it should be fun."

Harry sat in the armchair opposite them, smiling slightly. They did look happy, despite all the darkness and pain that he brought into their lives they still managed to fall in love with each other. Well it was bound to happen sooner or later he told himself. They've liked each other for years...

"I don't think it's meant to be fun, Ron," whispered Hermione. "It's for some extra protection against Death Eater's."

"Still, if Malfoy's there." Ron made a gesture with his wand. "Zap!"

Harry laughed and Hermione giggled slightly. "He was his usual charming self in the Entrance Hall this afternoon," said Harry.

"What did he say?" asked Hermione.

Harry sighed with exhaustion. "Just empty insults. Nothing important," he ended stifling a yawn. The clock above the fireplace told him it was nine o'clock. "I think I'm going to head up to bed. Don't want to be tired tomorrow," as he said this Harry pulled out his DA coin from his pocket. With a wave of his hand he set the time and date for seven thirty tomorrow night. "Night, guys," he said, beginning to walk towards the stairs.

"Night, Harry," whispered Ron, cuddling in closer to Hermione.

******

Harry dreamt that night. He saw himself standing alone on a bridge to nowhere, an unimaginable number of stars looking down on him in the impenetrable darkness that was the cosmos. For there part most were white, but in the very deepest reaches of the sky, a single red star shined strong. The planet of War, the planet Mars. He tried to hide from it, but the darkness stretched on to forever in all directions, there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. War was written in the heavens and Harry couldn't escape it if he wanted to.

With a start Harry opened his eyes and awoke from the dream. Standing over him, with a wand held alight stood a familiar face. It was still dark in the room, which meant sunrise hadn't yet happened. "Wake up, Harry," said a voice in the darkness, the only light coming from the speaker's wand, which wasn't even to highlight his face.

"Is that you Trask?" Harry asked sleepily, his bones protesting their early use as he struggled to sit up.

"Aye. Come on, it begins today, Harry. It's time to meet everyone."

Harry sighed and stretched his limbs in the darkness. With a shake of his head he got out of the bed and put on his glasses, followed by wand holster. "What time is it, Dermas?"

"Five," came the one worded reply from the door. "From now on this is your getting up time. It won't do well to waste precious training time asleep."

"I happen to enjoy sleeping," Harry mumbled wistfully, pulling a clean pair of robes over his head. Now that his eyes had grown used to the darkness, he saw the other four beds in the room. All the curtains were drawn, their occupants still asleep. Some have all the luck... he thought.

Harry followed Dermas down through the castle. It was so early that Harry doubted that anyone else would be awake. It was quiet in the early hours before dawn, the slight rustle of his clothing amplified loudly as it echoed down the dark corridors.

Trask led him down the steps of the Entrance Hall, and seemingly towards the Great Hall but instead veered away to the left and headed for one of the disused classrooms of the ground floor. Dermas pushed open the creaking door and light from inside spilled onto the dark stones outside the room. There was a murmur of voices from within that died down as he and Trask entered.

There were eight people in the room, including Dermas and himself. Harry only recognised the tall man in the back, standing next to a roaring fireplace. Albus Dumbledore. The other six people in the room didn't say anything as he entered. They began looking him up and down, and two of the witches smiled warmly at him. One of the wizards had a piercing gaze and he sighed as his eyes fell on Harry.

"Good morning, Harry," said Albus Dumbledore. "Let me introduce you to the people who will be helping you advance your magical education to the next level."

Harry nodded and Dumbledore pointed to a witch on the far right. She had shoulder length wavy blonde hair and didn't look that old. "This is Grace Arnair, Harry," began Dumbledore. "She will be teaching you unique charms and healing spells."

"Hi," smiled Harry, nodding to the witch.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," she smiled in return.

"Standing next to her is Rose Appleton." She was a small witch with long straight brown hair and deep blue eyes. "She will help you with Magical tuning."

What's that? thought Harry, but refrained from asking and said hello to the women.

"Dermas you know," continued Dumbledore. "Next to him stands Siamus Scrapfold. He will be your physical trainer, Harry."

Siamus nodded once briefly to Harry, his gaze piercing him the whole time. Harry instantly tagged him as a man not to be crossed. Even with his robe on Harry could tell that he was quite muscular, and very fit.

"This is Minra Algren, Harry," Dumbledore pointed to an elderly witch with a glare to match Snape's and a strict look to match McGonagalls. She nodded to him once briefly. "She is the world's leading scholar of pure magic, and the theory behind that."

Yes thought Harry. He may finally get some answers to the power of his magic, and how and why it differed from others. "And finally, Harry. Meet Thomas Fright. He will be teaching you some highly advanced offensive and defensive magic."

"Nice to meet you," said Harry.

"And you, Potter," nodded Fright.

Dumbledore gave them a moment, before speaking again. "Well, Harry, it begins today. I want you too know that this will not be easy. These people are the best at what they do. Your physical, mental, and magical abilities are going to be stretched and pushed past the highest levels of endurance." There was a glint of worry in Dumbledore's eyes. "If you do not want to go through with this, now is the time to say so."

Harry stared at each face in the room separately. He saw compassion, worry, confusion, and amusement on some of the faces, and in the end he came to rest on Dumbledore's. He thought of the prophecy, he thought of what Firenze had told him, and of last night's weird dream, he finally thought of Voldemort and all the pain and anguish that creature had brought him. "I'm not going to back out," he whispered, but the power in his voice made his words heard. "If it's my destiny to fight him, I want to be able to stand a chance of winning."

Dumbledore nodded, he had expected no less. Harry's convictions were almost stronger than his magic. He would stick with this to the very end. "Well then I wish you luck, Harry. I'll leave you all to get better acquainted." Dumbledore walked from the fireplace over to Harry, placed a warm hand on his shoulder and smiled. He then exited the small room.

"Well," smiled Trask. "Who wants to sink their claws into him first? Miss Arnair, Algren, Appleton. Ladies first."

Harry smiled and Trask sent him a lopsided grin and wink. "I think we'd all like to know his capabilities before beginning," said Minra Algren. Harry remembered her as the pure magic scholar. "If this child does indeed possess high levels of pure magic, then I think it best I discover the extent of his talent before the rest of you begin."

That made sense thought Harry, though he didn't like her calling him a child. "Excellent," smiled Trask. "Come on then you lot. Let's leave them be." He then turned to Harry and tried to act serious. "But don't for a moment think you've escaped sword training today, Potter." He smiled mischievously, as he and the other four people filed out of the room.

Many of them shook his hand as they left, and smiled warm hellos. Harry responded as best he could, trying to remember their names. After a few moments it was just him and Minra Algren, standing in the light from the fire.

"Take a seat, Mr. Potter," she said emotionlessly, lifting a heavy bag onto the table before her. Harry took a seat at this table, and sat there in silence for a moment as the elderly witch searched through her bag for something.

"So what exactly is pure magic?" asked Harry as she continued to search. The bag was enchanted to hold a lot more than its size allowed, so it was quite big on the inside.

"Pure magic, Mr. Potter," said Minra, frowning into her bag as something in there let out a low growl. "Pure magic is magic not channelled by a wand. It exists in every magical person, though only in very small amounts, almost undetectable amounts. It is this magic that allows a person to perform simple spells without a wand." She looked up at him at this point. "Though from what I've heard this rule doesn't seem to apply to you... A demonstration please."

Harry shrugged and levitated a chair across the room without a wand; he then summoned it to him and banished it back, all without his wand. "Very good..." she mumbled.

Harry fell silent as she dug deeper into her bag, and this time smiled as her hand's grasped some unseen object. With a mild curiosity Harry watched as she pulled a clear spherical object out of the bag and placed it on the table with the dull resounding sound of glass hitting wood.

"What is..." he began.

"This, Mr. Potter, is something I invented. I call it the Seeing Glass, not a very original name I know, but it describes it well." Harry stared at the glass ball. It was about the size of a Bludger and completely transparent. It was held in place by four gold rods that were sealed in a half circle across the bottom. These bars stretched up across the glass but didn't quite reach the top of the ball. Harry was reminded strongly of a crystal ball, but this was too big for that, and served an entirely different purpose.

"What's it do?" asked Harry, seeing his reflection in the glass dimly.

"It can measure the amount of magic a person possesses....or more accurately the amount of pure magic a person possesses. It displays it as a silvery white liquid in the ball. The more liquid in the ball, the stronger the magic in the person." Minra regarded him for a moment before continuing. "I'll show you...."

Minra pulled the white cloth glove she was wearing off her right hand and placed it over the ball. She let it hover in the air for just a moment before placing her hand on the glass surface, above the supporting metal rods. Nothing happened.... until. The glass ball started to spin in its confines and a silvery substance, much like unicorn blood or a thought string of a pensieve, began to appear in the ball. It stopped in about three seconds.

"You see," Minra began, pointing to the small amount of silver liquid in the bottom of the sphere. It was about three teaspoons full. "That is the amount of pure magic in me, as you can see it is not very much, but compared to the average among witches and wizards that is a lot. With that amount I can cast spells as powerful as transfiguring animals into inanimate objects without the use of a wand to channel the magic. Dumbledore possesses about four time's more than this, and I assume.... You-Know-Who would have quite a large amount as well."

Harry blinked and nodded with understanding. "Say Voldemort," he began and watched the slight nervous jump of her hands. "Can I try it?" he asked.

Without saying anything Minra Algren nodded and tapped the glass sphere once with her wand, which she produced with a flick of her wrist. The silver liquid inside the globe disappeared, leaving it empty once more.

"Now just place your palm on the surface like I did. You'll feel a slight stinging sensation but it's nothing to worry about, and none to painful. Don't remove your hand until the ball stops spinning," Minra told him.

Harry nodded, thinking about all the special wandless magic he had been doing this year. This talent was passed down from Godric Gryffindor himself. He remembered his magic exploding by the forest when he had learned of Padma's abduction. It had been so powerful it had reduced age old trees to ash. And finally he thought of the strength of the stunning spell he'd used back in Abingdon, the one that had taken out ten Death Eater's in a single blast. That was magic on par with Dumbledore.

With a slight moment's hesitation, Harry raised his hand and let it hover over the globe for a brief second. Then with a deep breath, he placed it against the smooth glass surface of the sphere. For a moment nothing happened but then the ball started spinning under his hand, the smooth glass gliding under his skin effortlessly. He saw the silver liquid begin to form in the ball and he felt the slight stinging feeling.

Minra had had her hand on the glass about three seconds when it had started spinning, Harry was now on twelve. The glass spun harder and faster until the liquid in it was churning so fast it became a blur. Harry gasped as the glass became increasingly hot and the stinging began to get painful. It showed no sign of ending and when he saw Minra's eyes open wide in surprise and fear, Harry began to worry.

"Is it supposed to do this?" he asked, clenching his jaw as his hand burned.

"Remove your hand," ordered Minra shrilly.

Harry tried but it wouldn't budge. He pulled and pulled but only succeeded in lifting his hand with the ball still attached to it. Despite its size the ball wasn't very heavy. The small stinging sensation was now a deep intense burning sensation, and Harry cried out as the friction caused smoke to rise from his hand. It was that hot.

The silver liquid continued to form, and then began to turn a deep red, the colour of blood. Harry tried to shake his hand free, whilst Minra began muttering small spells. Neither of their approaches had the desired affect. Damn it thought Harry as the smell of his burning flesh reached his nostrils. He cried out against the pain and tears formed in his eyes. To hell with it his mind cried out to him. Harry stood, raising his hand with the ball attached as he did. With all his strength he raised his burning hand, complete with flaming hot ball, above his head and then with a desperate cry brought it crashing down back towards the table.

The force of the impact jarred Harry's arm. The seemingly fragile ball hit the table so hard it splintered the front legs and the table fell in on itself. The ball remained whole and intact, though. Harry fell to his knees from the pain and began hitting the glass globe across the stone floor. It remained whole, not even a scratch upon its surface. Harry cried out again, cursing the ball that was slowly filling with a silvery red substance, and all the while his flesh burnt.

******