The Final Reckoning

Chapter Thirteen: Apparition Training

He was in a forest. No, he was in the Forest. The Forbidden Forest. It was daylight, and beams of sunlight streamed weakly through the thick cover of leaves, casting misshapen shadows on the ground.

Ron blinked. How had he gotten here?

I'm dreaming.

He reached inside his robes for his wand, except that he wasn't wearing robes. He was wearing a tunic and leather pants and heavy boots. His hands were clad in rough, thick gloves.

What the hell am I wearing?

'Hello.'

Ron whirled round at the sound of the voice, his wand up. He came face to face with a man. Ron guessed the man was no older than thirty-five; he had brown hair that fell to his shoulders and green eyes, and he was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

Not just any jeans and a t-shirt. Ron's jeans, and his favourite Chudley Cannons shirt.

'What the--' Ron spluttered. 'Who are you? What's going on?'

'Don't be afraid,' the man said. His voice was deep and smooth, with a note of amusement. 'I have to give you something.'

Ron narrowed his eyes at the man. 'How about giving me back my shirt, for a start? That's my favourite--'

'What I have is far more important than a shirt,' said the man, and he closed his eyes and stretched his hands out. Ron took a step back, brandishing his wand.

But the man didn't move, and suddenly there was light, emanating from his hands, shifting, glittering light that became so bright it had Ron squinting. And then there was a flash, as bright as any Ron had ever seen, so bright that he cried out in pain as his eyes burned; he closed them against the awful brightness but still it penetrated his eyelids.

And then, as quickly as it had come, the light vanished. Ron opened his eyes; they stung and he blinked back tears that blurred his vision. The man was gone. Lying on the ground was a sword with a silver blade that gleamed in the weak light that filtered through the trees of the forest. Along the blade were etched letters that read 'Godric Gryffindor.'

Ron blinked again and bent down, his hand hovering over the golden, ruby-encrusted hilt of the sword. He wanted to touch it; he had to touch it. As he reached down to pick up the sword he noticed that the gloves on his hands were gone. The sword was humming, vibrating with power and light, beckoning him to take it.

He wrapped his large hand round the hilt of the sword, and in the next instant a sharp, searing pain shot up his arm. Pain so acute, pain so awful, that he heard himself scream. He tried to drop the sword, but the hilt had fused to his hand, and it was killing him...

'Ron!'

Through the haze of pain Ron looked up and saw Harry running at him, wand outstretched. Ron felt the sword wrench from his grasp and go flying in the air...

Ron sat up sharply, grunting. He was in bed. Nowhere near the Forbidden Forest. Harry was sleeping in the bed nearby, and on a cot across the room...

Malfoy. Ron scowled. He'd brought the little ferret back to their room the night before; the blond boy had had a face full of blood and looked faintly green. No doubt from the nasty blow he'd taken to the groin, courtesy of Ginny.

Now there was no trace of injury to Draco's face. Hermione had insisted Ron heal the other boy, to avoid 'difficult questions' the following day. Ron had done a Healing Charm on Draco's nose and had cleaned off the blood from his face, but he extended no such courtesy to Draco's wounded nether regions.

'Prat deserves to have a reminder of Ginny, after what he tried to do,' Ron had growled. Hermione, for once, had not argued.

Ron shook his head and remembered why he'd woken up in the first place. A dream. About the sword. Again. And the green-eyed man.

Ron pulled out his dream diary and set to writing; this was definitely one to discuss with Hermione and the others when they were awake and away from Draco. Ron read over what he'd written and scratched his head in confusion. Why had the green-eyed man given him the sword if Ron couldn't pick it up without experiencing excruciating pain? Was it some sort of sick joke? Was the sword evil?

And yet it couldn't be, could it? It was the sword of Gryffindor; Ron had seen the letters etched along the blade. Harry had used the sword to kill the Basilisk.

Ron remembered something Hermione had suggested before: that Harry could be the Heir of Gryffindor. Perhaps only the Heir could handle the sword.

Gloves! I had gloves on at first--I was wearing some medieval get-up and he had on my t-shirt--bloody hell, what does that mean - and when I grabbed the sword I didn't have my gloves on anymore. Maybe one could only handle the sword if one wore gloves.

Harry didn't wear gloves when he used the sword.

Maybe that's because he's the Heir of Gryffindor, and doesn't have to.

Ron sighed, put the dream diary on the nightstand, and flopped back onto his bed. He had rather hoped that after the quiet shag he'd shared with Hermione last night that his dreams would be sweet and pleasant. Instead they were jumbled and confused.

And then there was Ginny, and whatever was going on with her. She had some kind of power, that was certain. But what was it? Ron had tried to convince Hermione to tell him, but she hadn't budged.

Harry had come back right as Ron was climbing into bed; he'd said very little and looked nervous for some reason. When Ron had asked after Ginny, Harry's blush penetrated the relative darkness of the bedroom.

Something is going on with them.

Would it be so bad if there were?

Ron considered. He'd long had a desire to see Harry fall for his sister, if only because Harry was the only person Ron trusted to give Ginny the respect she deserved. He was the only guy good enough for her. But on the other hand...

He's the Boy Who Lived. He has to kill or be killed by Voldemort. Ginny's already been a victim of that maniac. Voldemort might go after her again. He could use her to get to Harry...

Ron closed his eyes and pushed that awful thought down. It was bad enough they were all stuck here at Grimmauld Place with Draco Bloody Malfoy without thinking about Voldemort.

Ron cast another glance at Draco and scowled.

As if sensing Ron's glare, Draco stirred and opened his eyes, and gave a low, pained groan. He turned on his side and put his hands between his legs, clutching at the part of him that was sore.

'Shite,' Draco groaned, sitting up tentatively.

'Good morning, Ratboy,' Ron said dryly.

Draco flipped Ron a rude gesture and started to get up, and then groaned and sat back down, his hands on his crotch.

'Feeling all right?' said Ron, grinning and propping himself up on his elbows. His sympathy at Draco's pain only went so far.

'Eat shit, Weasley,' Draco hissed, and he got up again and started to hobble to the loo when his eyes narrowed. 'What's that?'

'What's what?' Ron asked, annoyed.

And Draco began to laugh. 'Is that what I think it is, Weasley?' he drawled, his voice nearly at its normal level of arrogance, but for a small hiss of pain. 'Are you keeping a diary?'

Ron felt his ears redden and he snatched the diary from the nightstand and shoved it under his pillow. 'Piss off, Malfoy. It's none of your business.'

Draco continued to laugh derisively. 'Is Widdle Weasley telling his diary his deepest darkest secrets? I can just see it. "Dear Diary, every time I wank I think of Harry".'

'Shut up, Malfoy,' Ron growled, feeling his temper flare.

'"Dear Diary",' Draco went on, in a mocking sort of voice, '"Mum tried to buy me some new robes but she ran out of money and had to go begging in the streets. Maybe if Dad wasn't such a loser we wouldn't be so poor".'

Ron clenched his fists. 'At least my dad wants me around,' he snarled.

Bull's eye.

Draco's right eye twitched and his mouth went thin. There was a flash of hurt in his face, so fast and so subtle as to be almost imperceptible. But it was there all the same.

'"Dear Diary",' said Draco, his voice now tight with anger, '"sometimes I wonder if my willy is going to rot from sticking it in the Mudblood--"'

Ron was up and across the room in a flash; in the next instant he slammed Draco in the wall.

'Say that again, Ratboy,' he growled.

'Go to hell, Weasley,' Draco gasped.

'Oi, can't a guy sleep around here?' said a third, irritated voice. Ron turned to see Harry climbing out of bed and putting on his glasses. At that moment, Draco squirmed and punched Ron in the stomach, hard.

The blow caught him off guard and his knees buckled, and he let go of Draco; Draco moved away quickly and smiled smugly.

'Not so tough as you think, Weasley,' he sneered.

Ron grunted and stood up, furious with himself for letting Draco punch him. He went to kick him...

'Ron,' said Harry, stepping between them. 'Can we try not to start the day off with blood and broken bones?'

'I don't need Weasel's boyfriend to protect me, thanks,' said Draco hotly.

Harry turned to Draco and brandished his wand. 'If you really think I have any interest in protecting you, think again. I'm only trying to prevent Ron from killing you, because if he kills you he'll go to prison, and you're not worth that.'

'Not worth much of anything, from where I'm standing,' Ron snapped. And then he saw it again, that flash of hurt in Draco's eyes.

Good.

'Ouch, that hurts,' said Draco. He ran a hand through his hair and stood up to his full height, clearly aiming for his usual arrogance of demeanour. (brit pick) 'As fun as this is, I think I'll have a shower.'

He shot hateful looks at Ron and Harry before taking a towel that was folded on a small table next to his bed and stalking into the bathroom.

'Git,' said Harry and Ron together, as Draco closed the bathroom door behind him.

Ron grunted and rubbed his stomach; Draco might be a coward but he threw a pretty good sucker-punch.

'Sorry 'bout that,' said Harry. 'For distracting you. He didn't hurt you--'

'No, are you kidding?' Ron lied. 'Sorry I woke you.'

'I heard you two arguing,' said Harry. 'That's why I woke up. You should try to--'

'--be more careful about my diary?' Ron finished. 'Yeah, I reckon so. Shit, that's the last thing I need, Draco knowing about that.'

'Especially considering he knows about...' Harry's voice trailed off, and he flushed slightly and made a point of reassembling his bed linens.

'Knows about what?' Ron asked sharply.

'Nothing,' said Harry, fluffing his pillow.

'Harry,' said Ron, crossing his arms in front of his chest and fixing him with a pointed look. 'What does Draco know about?'

'Well...'

'Does this have something to do with what you and Ginny talked about last night?' said Ron. 'Because I know you two talked. And whatever you talked about had you acting all weird.'

'I wasn't acting weird,' said Harry, blushing to the roots of his hair.

Ron felt his face pale in response.

'Harry,' he said. 'Did you...did you snog Ginny?'

'What?!' Harry cried. 'What are you on about? Are you mad? Snogging Ginny. Honestly! She's your sister; I wouldn't do that, what makes you think I would do that? No way!'

His protests came out in a rush, punctuated by nervous laughter.

He's about as rotten a liar as I am.

'Harry,' said Ron slowly.

'Look, Ron, nothing happened with Ginny. We talked and had tea--' Harry began.

'What'd you talk about?' Ron pressed.

'Nothing!'

'Bullshit,' said Ron, and he advanced on Harry, who was now starting to look a bit scared. Ron bit back the urge to grin.

'Look, we just... talked about Ginny's thing,' said Harry. 'You know, that thing she does, that she did on you last night. The thing Hermione knows about?'

'Oh, that,' said Ron, feeling disgruntled again. 'You have any idea what that's about?'

'No,' said Harry. 'But...look, Ron, if I tell you something, you have to promise not to freak out, okay?'

'Why would I freak out?' said Ron indignantly, rolling his eyes.

Harry rolled his eyes right back. 'Gee, I dunno, that's what you tend to do when I tell you anything that has to do with Malfoy.'

'What about him?' And then Ron felt his spine stiffen. 'He knows something about Ginny, doesn't he? About her...whatever her thing is.'

Harry nodded.

'How long has he known?' Ron hissed, struggling to keep his temper in check.

'For a while,' said Harry. 'Ron, he's been...going after Ginny, trying to make her use her power, whatever it is, on him. I think that's what he was doing when I caught them downstairs.'

'WHAT?!' Ron seethed, clenching his fists. He could feel the veins in his forehead throbbing.

Harry grabbed his arms. 'Ron, calm down or I won't tell you anything else.'

'I'm calm,' Ron lied, feeling his muscles begin to shake with fury. 'I'm perfectly fine.'

'Look, Draco's known about Ginny for a while,' Harry said slowly. 'But he didn't tell anyone, did he? Or at least, not that we know of. Voldemort didn't mention anything about it that night, and whatever Ginny's got, Voldemort would want. And Draco was working with the Death Eaters that whole time, so why didn't he tell his dad or something?'

Ron blanched as he processed what Harry was saying.

'You think...whatever it is Ginny's got...Voldemort will...want it?'

'What do you think?' said Harry, looking at him pointedly.

Ron's shoulders sagged. 'Shit,' he grunted. 'I knew it. I knew that sick bastard would make a try for her again.' He paused and thought of something. 'But...why would Draco want...Ginny's power?'

'You saw what she did, Ron,' said Harry. 'You felt it. Maybe...maybe Draco's got all sorts of issues and he thinks Ginny's the only one who can help him sort through it.'

'Oh, well, that's a relief,' said Ron dryly. 'And here I was just worried he was trying to rape my sister.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later they were finishing up breakfast. Ron and the others had spent some brief moments this morning relating all that had happened in the past twenty four hours, including Ron's, Harry's and Ginny's dreams. Hermione immediately started to jot everything down on The List. Ron and Harry cajoled Ginny, then Hermione, then Ginny again, to reveal her secret, but both girls were adamant: the boys would have to figure it out themselves. In the meantime, Ron ordered Ginny not to wander about the house on her own; Ginny rolled her eyes but agreed.

Draco, for his part, spent the day in silence. He stayed far away from Ginny, which suited Ron just fine. They wrestled with doxies again for a few hours, and then took to dusting furniture (the Muggle way, with rags and feather dusters).

At noon Mrs. Weasley brought up a platter of sandwiches, and after lunch, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny all went into the parlour to study quietly, leaving Draco alone in the bedroom (Ron took his dream diary with him) to study Potions.

They worked all through the afternoon. Ron hated every minute of it, but he still had nearly a dozen essays to finish before holiday's end. He forced himself to concentrate, and managed to complete a Charms essay, a Transfiguration essay, and a Potions essay when Mrs. Weasley poked her head into the parlour to announce an early dinner.

'Why early?' Harry asked softly, mindful of Mrs. Black's portrait, hanging just outside the door.

'You have your first Apparition training session tonight,' Mrs. Weasley replied.

Ron sighed. He'd forgotten all about that. The events of yesterday, coupled with his dream the night before, had driven the unpleasant task of Apparition training from his mind. That and the frustration of being stuck in this house instead of being at home at the Burrow, where he could play Quidditch with Harry and Ginny and sneak off now and again to be truly alone with Hermione.

They went down to dinner and found Remus Lupin there, sitting diagonally from Draco Malfoy, who was scowling over a plate of roast beef and vegetables. When Lupin announced that Draco would also be participating in that night's Apparition training session--using an old wand of Mr. Weasley's--Ron felt his stomach clench.

Great. Watch me splinch myself in front of that prat.

They finished dinner; Mrs. Weasley commandeered Ginny to help with the dishes as Lupin, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Draco all stood up.

'How are we getting there?' Hermione asked.

'Floo Powder,' said Lupin. 'There's a direct link from this fireplace to one in the Apparition training facility.'

They all double-checked that they had their wands, and one by one they climbed into the fireplace to make the journey to the Ministry of Magic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Right,' said Lupin, coming to a halt just outside a large door that read APPARITION TRAINING FACILITY. 'Here you are. Session will take about two hours. I'll fetch you then.'

'Thanks,' said Harry, Ron and Hermione together; Draco Malfoy merely scowled. Ron resisted the urge to smack the blond boy on the back of the head.

'Let's go,' said Harry, and he pushed open the door and led everyone inside.

The room was very large and surrounded by thick, padded walls. In one corner there was a large cart, the side of which read EMERGENCY SPLINCH STATION. Ron shuddered and tried not to think about it; he'd heard plenty of horror stories from Fred and George about splinching.

'Hello,' said a strong male voice. Ron and the others turned to see a tall, well-muscled wizard with sandy brown hair enter the room. He was dressed in Auror robes. The wizard made his way to the centre of the room.

'I'm Kenneth Towler,' said the wizard, 'and for the next few weeks I'll be your Apparition instructor. Looks like not everyone's here yet; we're a bit early so I'll wait to call roll until everyone gets here.'

For the next five minutes they waited as several more people filtered into the room, all of them dressed in Muggle clothing. Ron couldn't help but grin when Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan both came in.

'Hi, Harry!' Neville said cheerfully. 'Ron, Hermione.'

'Hey, Neville,' said Ron. 'Seamus.'

'Hey, Neville,' said Harry, smiling. 'Seamus. Good to see you.'

'You, too,' said Neville.

'How's your summer?' Seamus asked.

Ron and Harry exchanged glances, and then looked over at Malfoy, who was sulking in the corner.

'Could be worse,' Harry finally said. 'You?'

Seamus answered first. 'Been working in me Da's bait shop. Boring as all hell.'

'Bait shop?' said Ron, confused.

'For fishing,' Hermione whispered.

'How 'bout you, Neville?' Harry asked.

'Not bad,' said Neville. 'Spent some of the holiday with...with Luna, actually.' At this, Neville's cheeks became very pink. Seamus grinned.

'Yeah?' said Ron, biting back a laugh when he saw Hermione flash him a look. 'Where'd you go?'

'Sweden,' said Neville. 'She has some relatives there and her dad was on some expedition to find a...well, I'm not sure what it was--'

'Crumple Horned Snorkack?' Hermione supplied.

'Yeah, that,' said Neville. 'They didn't find any.'

'I wonder why,' Hermione muttered.

'Anyway,' Neville said, 'how about this, eh? I can't believe we're going to learn how to Apparate.'

'Yeah, can't wait,' said Ron grimly. 'With my luck I'll splinch myself all over the place.'

'Ron, don't be silly,' said Hermione, putting a hand on his arm. 'You'll be fine.'

'You can't do any worse than Terry Boot,' said Seamus, lowering his voice.

Harry straightened up. 'What about Terry Boot?' he asked, not bothering to hide the eagerness in his voice.

'I heard he splinched himself and left behind--' Neville began, but then he looked at Hermione and blushed.

'What?' said Hermione, putting her hands on her hips.

Neville bit his lip. 'Uh...maybe...you could tell them, Seamus.'

Seamus grinned again, clearly relishing his role as the bearer of gossip.

'Well,' he said, lowering his voice further, prompting Ron, Hermione and Harry to lean in, 'Lavender told me that Parvati told her that Padma learned from Anthony Goldstein that Terry splinched off his willy.'

Hermione gasped and looked horrified; Ron's hand instinctively flew to his crotch; Neville winced and shook his head; Harry bit back a laugh and pretended to look appalled.

'That's terrible,' he croaked.

Ron shuddered; he couldn't even begin to imagine what he would do if he splinched off his...

Don't think about it.

'Is Terry okay?' Hermione was asking.

'Yeah,' said Seamus. 'Apparently they can fix you up pretty easily right in the training centre. But...well, Anthony told Padma, who told Parvati who told Lavender who told me that Terry went into shock and he ended up having to go to St. Mungo's.'

'They were able to...you know,' said Ron, trying not to feel too light-headed, 'put it back on?'

'Yeah,' said Seamus, 'only apparently, when you splinch off a body part and get fixed back up, the body part stays numb for like, a month.'

'Good,' Harry muttered.

'What?' said Neville.

'Nothing,' said Harry. 'That's a shame about Terry, the poor bastard.'

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances and rolled their eyes, but Ron himself couldn't help but feel a bit of vindication for Harry all the same.

'Okay, class!' Kenneth Towler called. 'Let's get started. I'm going to call roll in alphabetical order. When I call your name please let me know you're here. Thank you.'

Kenneth had an efficient, authoritative voice that was belied by his very boyish, youthful looks, but he was at least twenty-two.

'Seamus Finnigan,' Kenneth called.

'Here,' said Seamus.

'Hermione Granger,' Kenneth said.

'Here,' said Hermione, a bit primly.

'Daphne Greengrass,' Kenneth called.

'Here,' said a tall, slender girl, very pretty girl with dark blonde hair and hazel eyes.

'Neville Longbottom,' Kenneth said.

'Here,' Neville answered.

'Draco Malfoy.'

'Here,' came Draco's reply.

'Harry Potter.'

'Here,' said Harry, and Ron noticed he was looking at Daphne Greengrass.

She's definitely good-looking. But isn't she a Slytherin? Good lord, poor bloke must be desperate.

'Lisa Turpin.'

'Here,' said another girl, a Ravenclaw, Ron remembered. She had dark hair and large, haunted grey eyes. And then Ron remembered that her brother had been an Auror, and he'd died in the battle at Hogwarts last term.

'Ron Weasley,' Kenneth said.

'Here,' Ron answered.

'Blaise Zabini.'

'Here,' said Blaise, a striking, dark haired boy with piercing, pale blue eyes. Another Slytherin, Ron remembered. And then he noticed that neither Blaise nor Daphne were standing near Draco.

'Okay, that's everyone,' said Kenneth, and he gestured for everyone to gather round him in a circle. 'Right. First things first: I'm sure you all noticed the Emergency Splinching Station. Typically there are minor incidents of splinching that happen in training sessions and we use that facility for repairs. The Accidental Magical Reversal Squad is too busy to deal with people who leave behind a finger or a toe. But if anyone here splinches himself or herself seriously, don't panic. The Accidental Magical Reversal Squad can sort things out in very short order.

'You all know, of course, that Apparating is difficult and many people don't use it at all unless they absolutely have to. But Apparating is a vital skill to have in an emergency, particularly right now. No other mode of magical transportation is as fast or convenient when one needs to get out of a sticky situation in a hurry.

'That said, it is because we often need to Apparate in dangerous situations that Apparating itself becomes more difficult. Apparition requires complete mental focus and perfect wand technique. The absence of either can and does lead to splinching, which can range from the minor to the fatal. Although there have been no recorded deaths in Ministry records from Apparating for the past decade.'

Ron looked round the room and noticed that everyone--except Hermione--looked very nervous all of a sudden.

'Before we begin I'd like to find out how much all of you know so far about the theories and problems that come with Apparating,' Kenneth went on. 'Can anyone here tell me the most common problem with the mental portion of Apparating?'

As expected, Hermione's hand shot up.

'Yes...Miss Granger, right?' said Kenneth.

'Yes,' said Hermione briskly. 'The most common reported problem among people first learning to Apparate is locational inaccuracy. A person Apparates successfully, in the sense that he doesn't splinch himself, but he winds up Apparating to the wrong place. In some cases this can be very problematic. There have been reported cases of people Apparating to a new location only to fall off cliffs or down a flight of stairs because they were unable to properly focus on the location they wished to Apparate to.'

Ron heard Neville gulp audibly.

Kenneth smiled and looked impressed. 'Very good, Miss Granger. You've obviously been studying this subject.'

He turned to the rest of the group. 'Miss Granger is absolutely correct that locational inaccuracy is one of the biggest issues--apart from splinching, of course--that face people who are new to Apparating. The wizard may have perfect wand technique, he might have the mental focus to Apparate without leaving behind a body part or parts, but if he does not have an absolutely crystal clear picture of the place he wishes to Apparate to in mind, he could wind up not only in the wrong place, but a very dangerous place.

'So, obviously, mental focus is vital. What other problems can come up when one is trying to Apparate? What else can get in the way of Apparating successfully?'

Hermione's hand went up again, just before Harry's.

'Mr. Potter?' Kenneth asked.

'Physical injury,' said Harry. 'A physically injured wizard has a much harder time Apparating.'

'Correct,' said Kenneth. 'Can you tell me why?'

Harry flushed slightly. 'Er...well, Apparating takes a lot of energy.'

'That's true,' said Kenneth. 'But there's something else. Do you know what that is?'

Harry looked down at his shoes. 'No, I don't.'

Hermione's hand was still in the air; Ron smiled and shook his head.

'Miss Granger?'

'Apparating is more difficult to do with a physical injury because of the pain of the injury itself,' said Hermione. 'When the body becomes injured, the brain receives signals from the injured area that manifest as pain, therefore causing the wizard's mental focus to weaken as he struggles with the pain itself. The greater the pain, the more difficult it becomes to Apparate; an injured wizard will not be able to Apparate as far, or could Apparate incorrectly, because of the distraction that pain causes. There've even been a few reported cases of wizards who Apparated in the midst of such excruciating pain that they deliberately left behind the body part that was hurting.'

At this several gasps went up. Ron was liking the idea of Apparating less and less by the second.

'Good, Miss Granger,' said Kenneth, smiling. 'By and large, then, it is generally not recommended that one Apparate while injured except in cases of the utmost emergency. And let's not forget, too, that distance also plays a part. The greater the distance one Apparates, the harder Apparating becomes. Very skilled wizards and witches can Apparate over very great distances, but to do so requires years of practice. So in case anyone was wondering whether their Apparition licence was contingent upon Apparating to New York and back, I'm happy to report that this is not the case.

'Can anyone tell me the basic mental exercise one must do to prepare for Apparating? Yes, Mr. Zabini?'

'The wizard has to focus entirely on the location he wants to go,' said Blaise, his voice deep and confident. 'The more detailed he imagines the location; the easier it is to Apparate there, and the greater the chance for success. Closing your eyes helps, too.'

'That's right,' said Kenneth. 'This explains one reason why locational inaccuracy is such a problem. If the wizard simply imagines Apparating to London, there's no telling where in London he'll wind up. Keeping one's eyes open during Apparating allows environmental distractions to occur. Specificity is therefore very important; this also explains why it is nearly always easier to Apparate to a place one is familiar with than a place one doesn't know all that well.

'But enough talking. I want to get everyone started on Apparating. We're going to start very small tonight. The first thing I want to work on is wand technique. Wands out, please.'

At this everyone pulled wands from jacket and jeans pockets. Draco scowled at the wand in his hand, which was very old and beat up.

'The wand motion is simple, but the trick is accuracy,' said Kenneth. 'You neither wave nor flick the wand, nor do you stab at the air with it. It's rather a combination of all three. Like so.'

He demonstrated a fast, sharp motion with his wand, so fast that the wand tip blurred.

'Notice my wrist,' he said. 'The flicking action comes from the elbow, not the wrist; the wrist needs to be firm and straight. Also, it's important to have a good grip on the wand handle--the technique is so fast and sharp that any loose fingers means a wand goes flying.'

He demonstrated the wand technique again, then a third time.

'All right, got the idea?' said Kenneth. 'Now it's your turn. Queue up in two lines, give yourselves some room and start working. I'll go round the room and check on your technique. Go.'

At once, the class formed two queues; Ron stood between Hermione and Harry, and in a matter of seconds the room was filled with the sounds of wands whooshing through the air. Neville swung his wand hard and it went flying from his hand, only to smack Draco on the back of the head.

'Ow!' Draco snapped, whirling round. 'Dammit, Longbottom, you clumsy arse--'

'Easy, Mr. Malfoy,' said Kenneth coolly.

'Sorry,' said Neville, flushing and picking up his wand off the floor.

'See what I mean about a good grip on the wand handle?' said Kenneth. 'You okay, Draco?'

'Yeah,' said Draco sourly. 'I'll have a lump on my head but I don't think I have a concussion or anything.'

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, and rolled their eyes.

Honestly. Such a bloody baby he is.

The practice continued. Kenneth moved slowly about the room, occasionally stopping someone to correct form or posture; he passed by Ron and muttered 'Good show, Mr. Weasley' before stopping Hermione mid-wave and correcting her wrist movement. She blushed and looked both affronted and embarrassed at the same time.

After another fifteen minutes passed, Kenneth finally called a halt.

'Good,' he said. 'You're all getting it. But that's the easy part. The hard part is the mental part of the exercise. Getting your mind to focus completely on the location you want to your body to go. By the end of this training session all of you should be able to pinpoint an exact location quickly and accurately, but for now, let's start slowly. Can I have a volunteer? Yes, Miss Greengrass?'

The tall blonde girl nodded; if she was nervous, she didn't show it.

'Everyone else step back please,' said Kenneth. 'Miss Greengrass, are you sure you're ready for this?'

'Yes, sir,' she said, and her voice was strong and even.

'All right then,' said Kenneth. 'Nothing too ambitious for now. What I want to see if you Apparate from the place you're standing now, to that corner just over there.'

'Okay,' said Daphne.

'The first thing I want you to do is look at that part of the room, okay?' said Kenneth. 'Take in as many details as you can.'

The entire class watched in silence as Daphne's eyes scanned the corner of the room. Ron followed suit, taking in the padded walls, the lack of furniture, the slightly dusty floor, the dingy ceiling.

'Now, Miss Greengrass,' said Kenneth. 'Can you tell me exactly where you want to end up?'

'In the corner,' said Daphne.

'Be more specific,' said Kenneth. 'If you imagine just Apparating to the corner we'll be pulling you out of the wall padding. Imagine where you want to land.'

Daphne blushed slightly and nodded. 'A few feet away from the wall.'

'Be even more specific.'

Daphne let out a breath. 'Two feet away, equidistant from both walls, standing upright.'

'Very good,' said Kenneth. 'Now close your eyes.' Daphne did so.

'I want to imagine the exact spot you want to be,' said Kenneth. 'Again, as detailed as you can. Do you see where you want to go?'

'Yes,' said Daphne.

'Good,' said Kenneth. 'Now, are you ready?'

Daphne nodded.

'I'm going to count to three,' said Kenneth. 'On three, I want you to do the wand motion. All right?'

'Okay,' said Daphne. She raised her wand arm.

'One...two...THREE!'

Daphne swung her wand forcefully and there was a loud crack that caused everyone else in the room except Kenneth to jump. In the next instant there was another crack, and Daphne re-appeared ten feet away, exactly in the spot she had mentioned.

And, Ron noticed, entirely in one piece.

The class gasped as one before bursting into applause. All but Malfoy. Daphne looked entirely relieved and pleased with herself.

'Excellently done, Daphne,' said Kenneth, and Ron couldn't help but notice that in addition to looking proud, he also looked relieved. Ron wondered how many people Kenneth had had to "fix" after splinching themselves in lessons.

'Daphne was able to Apparate successfully,' said Kenneth, when the class quieted down again, 'but did you notice how much mental effort it required on her part? That's the biggest challenge with Apparating. Not only the mental discipline itself, but the speed with which one often has to come up with that level of focus. In a controlled setting, in these early stages, you all have the luxury of taking the time to focus your minds. In the real world you won't have that luxury. In an emergency, when Apparating might be your only means of travel - or escape - one has to be able to focus one's mind instantly on a safe place to go.

'Now, can I have another volunteer?'

Hermione's hand shot up.