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7. Powerful Endings

"STUPIFY!"

The rich baritone of Snape's voice echoed behind Harry. Turning around, wand in hand, a sliver of light marked the raising of Harry's Recurvo spell. If he'd wanted to, he could have watch it deflect harmlessly onto the chalkboard, but this duel was more important. Raising his wand, he yelled "Penetro!" A burst of icy blue power flew from the wand and cut through the wards protecting Snape. Seconds later, Snape fell to the floor as the fully body bind hit him.

As soon as he was released, Snape stood and brushed off his robes. "Not bad Potter. You're getting quicker."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Have you done the research I asked you to?"

Harry nodded. He'd been told to research several Dark Art spells. Madame Pince nearly had a heart attack when she saw him taking the books from the Restricted section.

"And what did you learn?"

"That most of the spells really are for things like injuring, controlling or otherwise not helping other people. However, I found several that could very easily be used for the Light, if only they weren't such powerful magic."

"Why do you think power has anything to do with it?"

"No matter how good a witch or wizard is, there is always a part of us that wants more power, thinking that if we were only a little bit stronger we could do this or that. A lot of these spells I think need a powerful wizard to perform them—powerful and well trained. I admit, I don't get a lot of what's required in these spells, but at any rate because they can't use them, they get upset and so will do what they can to make sure that no one else uses them…like labeling them Dark. Making people afraid of them although there isn't necessarily anything to fear from them. But now that they are Dark, if anyone were to use them in a legitimate fight and someone recognized it…they could get into a lot of trouble."

Snape nodded. "Very good. Nice to see you've learned something about human nature after all these years. But the point is this: just because a spell has a prescribed purpose, doesn't mean that it can't be used in another way. There are quite a few spells that would be considered quite Dark if only wizards had the insights to use them in that way. Undoubtedly you will face Voldemort again in the sometime near future—you've been lucky before, Potter, but now that the protection spell cast by your mother is gone, you'll have to get more creative to save your hide. The shielding spells are a good—but you'll also need to learn to start finding creative uses for the spells that you do know. When we meet next week I want you to list three new uses for the spells you know. One day soon I'll attack you again—and it could be anywhere, and anyplace so long as we are discreet about it."

Harry nodded, not yet worried. He knew that the places where they'd be alone were relatively limited—his office, these meetings, and perhaps if he stayed after his session with Draco. Still, it was decidedly nice of Snape to warn him, he'd have expected no warning. Maybe it was to prevent Harry from casting something too dangerous in the school, he wasn't sure and this wasn't the time to debate it. "I'll try and be prepared, sir."

"Try." Snape snorted amused. "You are prepared or you are dead. Always remember that. Now. Cast your Recurvo and we'll see if you can't cast Impenetrâbilis."

When Harry was finally allowed to return to his dorm, it took all of his concentration just to make it to the room without falling flat on his face. He'd never cast a layered spell before, let alone one this difficult, the two hours he'd spent practicing drained him to the point of exhaustion as he tried to get Recurvo to mesh with the Impenetrâbilis. It was a long and arduous process and the best he'd been able to do was aligning the second spell about halfway in the right position. It wouldn't help him in battle any, but Snape seemed pleased with his progress.

Snape had assured him with practice he'd get the hang of it, and that the nasty concentration headaches would go away. Harry just hoped he was right.

* * *
Dumbledore once said to Harry, "What went on down there was a complete secret, so naturally the entire school knows about it." In other words, no secrets were truly sacrosanct, and so it went with Harry's lessons in Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

It started the Thursday after Harry had begun learning the Impenetrâbilis. Appropriately enough, it was even during his regular defense practice. This week they were working on perfecting disarming their opponents. While many of them had seen the spell in use during the short-lived dueling club, the incidents leading to the revelation that Harry was a parselmouth (and the subsequent dissolution of the dueling club) had ended the chance for anyone to actually practice it, effectively making it the first time for his classmates to practice with the spell.

Draco had caught on quickly and could disarm any of his classmates aside from Harry, but for the most part people only had it down to various levels of success. Some got the wand out of their opponent's hands, but were slow enough to cast that they could still be hit in the meantime. Others, like Neville, were so weak with the spell that a person could just keep their grip on it by holding really tight. Harry hadn't seen a spell work like that before—usually a person could cast it, or they couldn't. Until Tuesday he'd never really thought about the person's personal power as a witch or a wizard having an effect before—but here it could be seen as plain as day.

While idly waiting his turn, Harry wondered if anyone else could figure out what was going on—and what it'd be like if they ever did try to sort themselves out on a basis of power. He thought about Hermione: she was clearly one of the best students at Hogwarts, she'd always had the best grades of her year and that wasn't likely to change anytime soon, but did she have it in her to cast the things Harry knew he'd be learning, or was she just an average witch with a highly above average brain? He wasn't so sure about Ron. Not bad, but never good, like Harry his grades had always been for the most part, average. His older brothers were all smart, but aside from Charlie and maybe Bill none of the others ever felt powerful. He watched as Dean and Blaise faced off with each other. They cast Expelliarmus at the same time and for a second it was almost as if he could see the power flowing from each person. He watched, almost entranced as Blaise emerged victorious, and held up Dean's wand triumphantly, earning Slytherin five points.

"Finnagin. Potter."

Harry tried to shake himself out of his stupor, but he couldn't help but feel that he'd seen something there. It wasn't until her heard the startled cry of Seamus when his own spell ended up hitting him, knocking him back, that Harry realized that he'd thrown up his shield. Seconds later, he held up Seamus' wand, indicating his success.

"Five points to Mr. Potter."

"He cheated!" Harry heard someone complain.

"If by cheating, you mean he used a very valid defensive spell, then yes, he did. You're speed is improving, especially considering your less then attentive state. The rest of you should pray that one day you might be able to build reflexes like his"

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Sir."

"Although this was unplanned, I think it serves as an introduction to our next lesson." He waited for everyone to take a seat. "While disarming is of course, preferable, many times you won't be in a situation where you have a clear shot at your opponent…and others among you aren't strong enough to use Expelliarmus , so you must turn to defense. The spell you saw is the same one I used the first night against Mr. Potter. It's called Recurvo, a reflecting charm and it will work against almost any spell…"

* * *
As the class let out for the evening, Snape called for Harry to stay after.

"Did I not mention that you were to keep the things from our other session a secret from the others, Mister Potter?"

"I'm sorry sir. It just happened."

Snape snorted. "Thankfully it wasn't anything too damning. You're still going to have to explain to your year mates how you learned that. I'll leave it to you. Just be more careful next time."

Harry nodded, "I will. Can I ask you a question?"

"Since you will anyway, you may."

"I was watching class tonight, and I was thinking about Expelliarmus and how when some cast them, like Draco, the spell is quite strong and he could disarm anyone else in our class. Yet when Neville tried to cast it, he barely got anywhere. Is that the result of each persons talent?"

Snape gave him an appraising look. "I take it this is why you were so distracted tonight?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I should have admonished you for not paying attention, so you may write for me a five foot essay on a wizard's power and its effect on spells, due two weeks from today. We'll discuss it then. And knowing your foolishness, you are not to practice Impenetrâbilis until after the match on Saturday. Slytherin hasn't lost to Hufflepuff in years and I don't want us to start now because you've got too much a headache to concentrate properly."

Harry nodded.

"Dismissed."

Harry retreated to the dorm for the night to the curious expressions on his classmate's faces.

As Harry entered the common room, Draco's head popped up from the couch that he was sprawling on. "Where'd you learn that spell?"

"Oh. You know. To protect myself in case any of my first years try to act up again."

"You're a horrible liar, Harry." Draco said calmly.

"Well. Maybe. But I'm still not telling. It's none of your business."

"But Harry! We're your friends! Crabbe bought you clothes! And I help you with potions! Blaise is even so kind as to take you out!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You've got your secrets. I have mine."

Draco, although not satisfied by that answer, knew that he wasn't going to get a response out of Harry and let the subject drop.

* * *
Saturday morning dawned with a beautiful cloud-dotted sky. As Harry walked out to the pitch he took a deep breath of the fresh air, excited about the game. He felt great; last night's faux match helped to solidify his confidence in his teammates and he was ready to play.

Everyone was in a cheery mood as the stands filled. Gryffindor showed its customary flags of support for Hufflepuff, Harry ignored the "Chase Potter off the Pitch, Ron" sign that he saw there, if for no other reason than the sign mysteriously ignited seconds after he pointed it out. Ravenclaw was throwing in its support for Slytherin, also as per the tradition. Harry was pleased to see that Hermione had decided to come to the match after all. He'd been worried that she wouldn't show at all because of torn loyalty to the two feuding friends.

As he flew onto the pitch for the opening, he heard Lee Jordan's voice over the loudspeaker.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls welcome to the first Quidditch match of the year! This promises to be an exciting game as it pits the Slytherins, lead by their new Seeker Harry Potter, against Hufflepuff and their new Chaser Ron Weasley for the first time! Now that Potter is in a new House will he play as underhanded as the rest of Slytherin or will he keep his honor?"

Boos from the Slytherin stands muffled the cries from Lee as McGonagall kicked him out of the announcing booth.

Madame Hooch walked onto the field, dropping the securely closed chest onto the field.

"I want a nice clean match ladies and gentlemen, and may the best team win!" She quickly released the antsy balls and made her way off the field.

Harry didn't pay the announcing any mind, except for the fact that insults to House honor aside, Lee Jordan really was the more interesting commentator.

Keeping his eye out for the Snitch, he finally spied it on the far end of the field, near the Slytherin goals. The other Seeker must have spotted it as well because out of the corner of his eye he could see her starting to race for it. Luck was in Harry's favor because it was closer to him, and his broom was much faster then hers. He was a hand's width away from the Snitch when he was suddenly broad sided, sending him—and the Snitch--spinning out of control. Boos and cries of foul filled the air from not only the Slytherin stands, but the Ravenclaws as well, and a few scattered Gryffindors, much to Harry's surprise.

A sharp whistle blow signaled that a penalty was to be assessed. Harry took a glance over at his assailant once he had stabilized himself, wincing at the sharp ache in his side.

Ron.

Ron, who at the moment was not looking very apologetic for his actions: if anything he seemed more upset that his Seeker hadn't been able to grab the Snitch during the disruption he caused.

"Harry, are you all right to continue?" Asked a concerned Madame Hooch.

A flash of fiery determination filled his eyes. "I can finish the match."

She looked at him hesitantly, announced that Slytherin would get a penalty shot (and Slytherin scored widening the lead to 90-30), then play resumed. This time he spotted the Snitch much faster, and easily beat the Hufflepuff Seeker by several meters.

It was as Draco and Blaise helped Harry hobble to the infirmary that they ran across Ron.

"Nice job Weasel." Blaise snarled.

"Yeah, who'd thought you'd sneak so low? I mean, all the tricks we've played and we've never deliberately rammed into him before." Added Draco, equally disdained at the redheads appearance.

"Harry. I just wanted to explain…"

Harry didn't look at Ron, just stared straight ahead as they marched on. He heard Ron call his name, but he couldn't bring himself to look back.

Ron had made his decision for him. How could he remain friends with someone deliberately trying to hurt him?

* * *
It didn't take long for Madame Pomfrey to patch Harry back up again. Nothing was actually broken, although he had large bruises where the broom had hit his thigh. Even after she'd given him a clean bill of health, he still felt numb physically and emotionally, the jolt of realizing who'd hit him replaying in his mind.

The three boys walked back to the tower slowly, Harry wasn't much in the mood to celebrate and no matter what House you were in, when you won a match, you partied.

"Are you going to be okay, Harry?" asked Blaise.

"Yeah. I guess."

"Upset at Weasel?"

Harry didn't bother to correct Draco, and he was sorely tempted to call Ron that himself.
"You could say that. I just can't believe he'd do that to me! I mean, I know Hufflepuff doesn't win that often, but to hurt me like that?" Harry didn't really know what else to say, nor did the others have any good answers.

When they finally reached their common room, Harry smiled and laughed and did all the celebratory things that a winning Seeker was expected to do. But if you looked in his eyes you could see his anger and his sorrow.

No one said anything though, because no one knew how to handle it.
* * *
The next morning, Harry was feeling better, and was actually involved in an animated debate about legitimate uses of some Dark spells, when the morning owls arrived. Just as Harry was about to make his next claim, a sharp woman's voice started yelling from the general vicinity of the Hufflepuff table.

"RONALD WEASLEY!

HOW DARE YOU ATTACK HARRY LIKE THAT ON THE QUIDDITCH PITCH! YOUR FATHER AND I ARE SO ASHAMED OF YOUR BEHAVIOR! WE TAUGHT YOU BETTER THEN THAT! CHARLIE WOULD BE MORITIFED IF HE KNEW WHAT YOU DID! I DON'T CARE THAT HARRY'S IN SLYTHERIN, YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER! NOW MARCH RIGHT OVER TO HIM AND APOLOGIZE! NOW!"

People started snickering all over the Great Hall, especially the Slytherins who were outright laughing. Draco yelled over, "Come on Weasley! We haven't got all day!"

Ron was bright red, whether in anger or embarrassment Harry didn't know, nor did he actually care. He was just kind of amazed that Molly was still sticking up for him. Of course, she would have yelled at Ron anyway no matter who he'd had run into, but still. He'd have to write to her after breakfast.

Ron eventually walked over to Harry, knowing the twins would rat him out if he said nothing.

Harry looked at him calmly, his face not really giving anything away.

"I'm sorry." Ron mumbled.

"What was that, Weasel? I don't think Harry heard you."

Ron glared at Draco, but in a clearer, louder voice he repeated, "I'm sorry." It still didn't sound all that apologetic; however Ron left and returned to his seat.

Blaise observed dryly, "That went well."

Harry looked at Blaise. "I have a few letters to write, but after I'm done want to go walk around the lake for a bit?"

Blaise nodded. "Sure."

Harry rose from the table. "I'll meet you in the common room in say, an hour?"

"Sounds good."

As Harry left the table, Dumbledore caught his eye and gave him the "everything for a reason" smile. Harry was really starting to hate that smile.