Harry Potter and the Dance of the Warrior

Chapter Six: The Book

"Arrggg," growled Harry Potter, pounding his fists on the bed beneath him.

He was very frustrated. He had been lying here, dead tired, for nearly three hours, but too many things were going through his head. He simply could not clear his mind. Therefore he could not sleep. Falcore had been singing softly for more than an hour, a valiant attempt by his latest friend to aid him, but all that effort was to no avail.

The song abruptly ended when Harry spoke. "Thanks for trying to help; we'll try again in a little while. Care to come down with me for a bit of hot chocolate?"

Falcore settled on his shoulder as he rose to leave the room. Trudging down the stairs, he saw a light still on in the kitchen.

Upon entering, he heard, "Harry, what are you still doing up?" Harry heard Remus ask in an exasperated voice.

Remus and Professor Dumbledore were sitting at the end of the table talking quietly--though now both were looking at him with deep concern.

"Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you." Harry sighed deeply. "Can't sleep, I can't clear my mind...."

"And Falcore, he was not able to help you?" Dumbledore said kindly.

"He's been singing to me for an hour. I just have too many things on my mind, too many things to think about." Harry smiled softly and continued, "I thought I'd try your remedy now, Professor."

Dumbledore returned the smile, and Harry said, "May I offer you two a nice mug of hot chocolate?"

"An excellent idea, Harry. I'm glad not all of my important teachings are lost on my students," he teased gently. "Remus?"

Remus nodded, but never took his concerned gaze from Harry.

After several minutes the three sat at one end of the large wooden table, sipping large, steaming mugs. A soft look of pleasure showed on the faces of all three as they sipped the hot, creamy and strangely comforting drink.

After a few more moments of silence, Dumbledore said, very quietly, "Harry, sometimes it's best to speak of the things that are playing on your mind. Sometimes it's the only way to get a moment's peace."

Harry looked from Remus to Dumbledore, saying nothing, but his mind racing with thoughts. Averting his gaze from the pair in front of him, he saw his owls, Hedwig and Snuffles, on the owl perch. He smiled softly at them--they were so peaceful and content, cuddling there without a care in the world. He saw the Hedwig's golden eyes open and give him a loving look. She flew over to land on the opposite shoulder that Falcore sat on.

Harry spoke softly, avoiding the main point for a while, gazing all the while into Hedwig's eyes: "You know, I thought Hedwig would be jealous of Falcore."

He reached up to stroke the back of his owl's neck as he heard Dumbledore chuckle. "Jealous, Harry? She's positively beaming with pride."

Harry realized, when he looked at Hedwig again, that Dumbledore was right--her snowy chest was puffed out, and yes--there was pride, as well as love, there. He smiled at her and stroked her belly.

He didn't look over to the pair of wizards across from him, but felt their eyes on him. After another sip of his cocoa he said, "It was really some day...so many things...to consider...to understand.... " He trailed off.

"I take it you mean more than your decision to escort Ginny to the wedding on Saturday," Remus said in an obviously amused voice.

Harry's eyes snapped to him, a slight blush on his cheeks. "How...."

Remus chuckled. "Molly took one look at Ginny when she came back into the kitchen, turned to Bill, and said to make sure he told Fleur that you were coming."

Harry smiled for a moment. It faded quickly when he said, "Are you sure it's safe for me to go? I mean, I don't want anyone put in danger."

They spoke of security precautions for several minutes; the pair allayed some of his worry. They told him some of the wards around the Burrow and the ones they put around the meadow in the apple orchard, where the wedding reception would take place. But he did wonder what Mad Eye would say about this--after all, no one was more security-conscious then he.

"Professor, uh, did you speak to Hagrid? I was hoping to talk to him tonight. I figured he'd be here this evening. I wanted to tell him...."

Dumbledore looked at him for a moment. "Yes, Harry, we spoke right after the trial. I believe he was on the way to Surrey. I had to do some quick thinking and send him on a week-long mission." He paused at Harry's questioning look. "I assume not telling us about your uncle and cousin was for his benefit?"

It was his turn to chuckle. "Yes sir. I mean, Hagrid usually listens to me, but with this...."

Remus spoke now, amusement in his voice. "Yes, I think Albus was hoping a week with Madame Maxine would get his mind off it till we can think of something."

Harry snorted into his mug. "Yes, well. Her, or maybe a baby dragon, would be the only things that would keep him occupied."

The three shared a short, knowing, laugh.

Harry went quiet again, staring into his mug, trying to calm his mind, just trying to enjoy the moment. After a couple of more minutes of silence Harry spoke softly, "Maybe it's just everyone praising me today, I don't know...."

He continued in the same voice. "I mean, I got into a fight...if the Aurors hadn't shown up...I spend my days and nights training, is that so much to be proud of...."

"Madame Pomfrey called me a young potions master, for god's sake!" he cried in vexation.

He started pacing at some point, Falcore and Hedwig flying over to the perch as he rose. Dumbledore and Remus let him talk; they tried to let him vent some of his frustration. All the while they watched him closely, their eyes full of concern and understanding. He spoke very little of his summer work and even less of his fears, but the pair in front of him heard it nonetheless. Harry even spoke of the insanity of possibly seeing Ginny now, with Voldemort after him. The whole bloody Boy-Who-Lived-Thing. People gawking at him every time he was out amongst wizards. Snape, in general--though the pair in front couldn't help but reprimanded him again about 'Professor.' He spoke for nearly half an hour, all the while feeling sleepier and sleepier. When he was done, he slumped into his chair with a great sigh.

Before Dumbledore spoke, he leaned towards Harry, extracted his wand, and tapped his mug. Fresh steam poured out of it, and Harry sipped gratefully.

"Harry...."

Harry cut off the Headmaster. In an exhausted voice, he said, "I know, Professor...I'm famous...I know...."

"It gets so tiring...I know things are what they are, and I have to live with them...I have to do what I have to do...what's done is done...I know...."

Remus was startled by the level of dejection in Harry's voice. He looked over at Albus and saw the same reaction--well, in his old Headmaster's understated way. Harry spoke of only a small portion of his worry, of the least of his trials. But what he had heard about would be enough to exhaust the most experienced of men and wizards.

Remus was afraid for his best friend's son; afraid he couldn't endure. He struggled for words of comfort, but could find none. He saw Harry swig the last of his hot chocolate and abruptly stand.

"Uh...I...thanks for listening to me feeling sorry for myself," he said in a voice of self-disgust, as he strode towards the door.

The pair of wizards still struggled for words. Remus glanced at Dumbledore, who gave a small nod. "Harry, I'm supposed to leave for a mission in a few hours. I'm supposed to be gone till Friday. This will be the last one I go on for quite some time. But. . . uh. . . If you'd like, I mean, we could rearrange it if you need me to stay," Remus said this all very hesitantly.

"No thanks, Mooney, you be careful though...Goodnight," he said with a yawn.

"Goodnight, Harry," the pair intoned.

Before reaching the door he turned back to them, a thought having just occurred to him. "By the way, what ever happened to Kreacher. Haven't seen him since I've been back here,"

Neither wizard liked the tone of voice Harry used now, and at least in part were glad the house elf fled after the events at the Ministry of Magic. Dumbledore spoke in a calming voice: "He fled, Harry, and hasn't been seen since that night at the Ministry."

Remus tried a lighter tone. "Well, after what Albus did to his mistress's painting, it's no wonder...."

Harry just nodded absently, said his goodnights again, and returned to his bed.

The two remained in the kitchen for more than an hour more, mostly discussing Harry. How to treat him, what to say, if anything needed to be said, but both agreed there wasn't much that could be done at the moment. Not until the time Harry came to them. They sincerely hoped that things with Harry had changed enough that he would actually do this. They spoke till it was time for Remus to head out on his mission, what was thought to be the last extended one for quite a while.

Harry woke after nearly five hours of sleep, which for this summer was a monumental accomplishment. He sat up in bed and saw that Falcore's eyes opened for a moment when he rose, but they closed again as the phoenix continued its slumber.

He realized something; he had no idea how to care for his bird. 'I have to ask Dumbledore the next time I see him,' he thought.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, in bemused silence, the events of the past several days still weighing on him. He tried to focus his mind on Ginny, on the wedding. 'It should be a good time,' he thought, but everything else was repressing even the slight happiness she brought him. He settled on this level mood, and hoped that he could keep on this level.

He took a long hot shower and dressed in his usual brown work robes and decided to try a bit of breakfast before he threw himself into work. Making his way down the stairs something of last night's conversation came back to him. What had Dumbledore meant about Mrs. Black's portrait? It was funny, he hadn't heard her ravings at all since he got here. When he was at the bottom level of the house, he saw the curtains containing the portrait were closed tight. Curiosity got the best of him then. Very carefully he parted the curtains; he was shocked at what he saw. It looked like a mini glacier encasing the painting--it was inches thick, cold radiating from it.

Harry studied it for a few more minutes. It didn't seem to be melting at all, and he went into a slight trance and saw the enormity of the charm that was put there.

"Definitely Dumbledore's work..." he muttered.

Harry considered for a moment about asking his headmaster about the spell, but as he thought more about it, he realized that it would not help him in a fight, so there was little point. He sighed sadly at this thought and continued to the kitchen.

He paused at the doorway; he hadn't expected anyone to be here this early on a Tuesday morning. Obviously he was wrong. Kingsley and Tonks, Mad Eye, Mr. Weasley, and of course Snape, were here.

'Just what I need early in the morning: him,' he thought dispiritedly.

He spoke before they saw he was there. "Good morning everyone. I didn't realize you were having a meeting." He knew he wasn't wanted here and spoke before anyone else did. "I won't disturb you, I'll come back a little later."

As he turned in the doorway, Mr. Weasley said jovially, "That's all right, Harry. We're finished; we were just going to have a cup of tea before we all headed out to work. Join us, please."

Harry gave him a small smile and joined the Order members at the table, taking care not to meet Snape's eyes. As he took his first sip of tea several owls swooped in from the kitchen fireplace, all carrying today's edition of the Daily Prophet.

Placing the coins into the owl's small leather pouch, he repressed a sigh. The headline today was Potter astounds Wizengamot. 'Well, maybe tomorrow my name won't be on the front page.' He forced himself not to look at his potions master, but felt the sneering look directed at him as he began to read the first page.

"I always thought you didn't read about yourself in the papers, Harry," Mr. Weasley asked curiously.

Harry couldn't stifle a small sigh this time, and said without taking his eyes from the paper, he said, "I made the decision yesterday to see what's being said about me...might be too important to ignore."

"Smart thinking, Potter. I hate to say this, but there may be hope for you yet," Moody said with a chuckle.

Harry finished the article quickly. The facts were right, he supposed, but must everything he did become so glorified? He quickly scanned the rest of the paper for anything of interest as he raised a piece of toast to him mouth. It never got there as two rather large screech owls flew down the kitchen fireplace. They were carrying a large package in tandem. The pair landed right in front of him.

The package, what looked to be a very large book, sat on the table in front of him. He tore the piece of toast in two and handed half to each of them. He untied the thongs from their legs without taking his eyes off of the brown wrapped parcel. He hadn't been expecting anything--he was very suspicious.

Harry went into a light trance and began to scan the book. It had to be a spell book--the amount of residual magic was immense, almost blinding, as he deepened the scan. Someone tried to speak to him. He thought it was Mr. Weasley. He heard Mad Eye respond to him, but couldn't make out the words. He began to mutter a simple sensing incantation and searched for remnants of dark magic. He used a lot of energy searching this way, but the only way he was going to increase his skills was by pushing. As he had done all summer. After a few minutes he quit. As he was coming out he sensed all eyes at the table focused on him.

He didn't catch anyone's eye yet. Calmly drawing his wand, he mumbled another spell and flicked his wand. A thin golden mist started to flow out of it. He covered the book, placing layer upon layer of mist over it. When it was covered he put his wand down and waited. If the parcel was jinxed or cursed the mist would stick to it, but after a minute it faded to nothing. He sat staring at it for a moment, and then picked up his wand to try another test.

Moody's voice cut him off. "Ok Potter, two tests are more than enough. Besides, my eyes can usually pick up the residuals. The book is clean. You weren't expecting it?"

Harry slowly shook his head, reaching out he removed a parchment letter that was attached to the top.

"You check all your mail this way?" Mad Eye growled.

"When it's unexpected, yes," Harry said softly.

"Good lad! You're finally learning. Though two tests should cover it--any more and people will start thinking you're paranoid." Moody chuckled heartily at this.

Harry was only half listening; he unfolded the letter and began to read to himself.

Dear Mr. Potter,

If I had known that one Mundungus Fletcher was collecting books for you, I might have reconsidered giving it to him. Though not before I spoke to you. This is a powerful book, which must not fall into the wrong hands. Your performance and sincerity yesterday convinced me that you should be the holder of this. I've never read it, but I do have a good idea of what it entails. Times are getting dangerous again, and you are in more peril than the rest of us. That much is obvious. Study hard, young warrior. Feel free to write me if you have any questions, or need any advice. We are all on the same side in this. And if you ever need another wizard to stand by your side to fight the good fight, please don't hesitate to call on me. I've never been one to back off a fight, but for some reason the Death Eaters always avoid me.

Yours in Fellowship,

Colin Thatcher

Harry folded the parchment and slipped it into the pocket of his robes. A small satisfied smile appeared on his face. As he looked up he caught Moody's curious, non-magical eye.

Harry shrugged. "It's a book I've been trying to get, but the wizard wouldn't give it up. Seems like the trial yesterday changed his mind about parting with it."

It seemed everyone there wanted to question him further, but it also seemed no one felt they had the right to do so. After several more minutes, Harry finished his tea, bid everyone a good day, and left for the drawing room. He made for his favorite overstuffed chair, and tore off the plain brown wrapping.

"Yes!" he said in low voice. This was the book he wanted, he needed. He examined the ancient glossy bindings--the black dragon hide still looked new, and he could almost feel the preservative charms on it. He ran his fingers lightly across the gold gilt writing on the cover.

"Proeliator Della Luminarius," he said in a low voice touched with awe.

Warriors of the Light. It was a training manual written well over a thousand years ago, by an order of witches and wizards. They ruled lands and protected their people from the forces of the dark. The very existence of this book, as well as the order itself, was something of a legend. Harry had written letters to wizards all over Europe. He had hoped he could find it, had dreamed of finding it... When he heard Thatcher had it he was ecstatic, but then Dung was unsuccessful, even after authorizing him to offer a large amount of gold. He had planned on paying Mr. Thatcher a personal visit, to beg to borrow it... But now he had it. It was his.

Harry leaned back in the chair, opening his senses as far a he could. He searched the house to make sure he was alone, ignoring the spells around him. He was pushing his sensing skill every chance he could--he was feeling the drain on his strength. After several moments he was sure of no one else was there. He checked his watch and saw he had nearly ten hours until the twins would arrive.

'Do I start here, or do I use my trunk?' He thought quickly. 'Definitely the trunk. Who knows who will show up here?' With that he ran up to his room, a quick locking charm on the door. He fumbled with the keys to his trunk. In his excitement he tried the wrong key twice. Once opened, he didn't even bother with the old wooden ladder; he swung his legs in and dropped lightly down on the smooth stone surface. He flicked his wand, closing the lid behind him; again he used a locking charm, but went a step further by also putting an 'Imperturbable' charm on it. Now no one should be able to tell what was going on inside--at least not without an inordinate amount of effort.

Several moments later he was seated at his little wooden table, opening the iron hasps that held the book closed. The first page was written entirely in Latin, a letter or a declaration of sorts; luckily it was one of the languages Harry was now fluent in.

We, my brethren and I, are the last of our kind: the wizard lords. We are the rulers and the high protectors of our lands, and we set our knowledge and legacy upon this tome. We do this in hopes that our children will know of our accomplishments both in battle and in magic. Three stand where before stood many. Treachery had beset our houses, decimating our warriors and our beloved. The forces of the dark surround us on all sides. We stand on the brink of our own extinction. The rest are too old or too young to join the battle against the dark. But we will fight, till the last breath leaves us and we have no strength left to raise wand or sword or blade. This is the nature of our order, the battle for the honor of the light. It is our shame to say our vigilance waned, and now we pay the price with our blood.

We leave this in hope or children will be able to learn and remember our work lest they survive. Though no book, no matter how inventive and intuitive can compare to the learning of our skills and ways; given over with our love as was intended.

We are an ancient order of witches and wizards, husbands and wives, parents and offspring. Our history begins in a time out of mind. We are warriors without peer, with magic or without, this is well known though out the lands and across the seas. This is what we are known for, and it has kept the peace for many an age. What is not widely known, what we are most proud of was not accomplished on the field of battle. Our researches have brought magical expertise to a level unknown, in every field imaginable.

This mighty tome holds most of our combined knowledge, of lifetimes of work and study. We impart it for our children's sake. Know this, if you are not of our lines, but have a heart that is true and a cause that is just, we shall be an aid to you as well. If you are associated with the forces of dark, we shall deal with you as we have through out the ages. So you have been warned, once initiated, a tribunal awaits thee. Our judgment is final; we shall aid you, banish thee from the tome's knowledge, or deal with you as we dealt with our enemies. You have been forewarned.

Harry leaned back from the book and considered what he had just read. He thought, 'this could be dangerous... this could be very foolish.' He thought of countless arguments for and against, but what settled him, though, was a long look at his 'Wall of Inspiration.' It was a small section of wall he devoted to the things he was fighting for. Pictures were stuck up haphazardly: his parents, his friends, his family. Newspaper clippings and birthday cards, the Valentine's Day card Ginny had given him in his second year. Even the painting Dobby had made him last Christmas was on the wall. These were the things he was training for; these were the things worth saving.

"The things I will save!" he said fiercely.

He slowly turned to the next page and found upon it a small window, much like the one he found in Tom Riddle's old diary. For a moment Harry became wary. He leaned back again, and tried again to sense any dark magic. He searched deeper then he had ever tried before, but could find no trace.

He checked to make sure his wand was clear and easily drawn, then he tentatively reached out his left hand. As soon as the tip of his finger touched the window he felt himself tip forward, and fall through.

He landed lightly and after a second his eyes focused. He found himself in a large, circular, audience chamber. Between the high, narrow, windows, the thick stone walls were hung with large banners and pennants of designs he didn't recognize. His hand never left the wand stuck in his belt. Slowly he turned, taking in the large, iron bound, double doors set into stone wall. It was deadly silent.

He whirled about, almost drawing his wand, as he heard a deep gravely voice say, "You are not of our lines, boy. How dare you come to this place, seeking our aid, prepared to draw on us?"

Harry turned to see a small raised dais, where a witch and two wizards sat. He made his way closer to them. He took his hand from his wand, and as he arrived in front of the dais, he bowed formally, right arm crossing his middle, left out and back. "I apologize for my rudeness. I meant no disrespect. The only experience I have with the type of magic this book contains was a book filled with dark arts, created by my enemy."

They didn't respond right away, as if considering him. He got a chance to take a good look at the trio that would decide his worthiness. The wizard with the coarse voice was short and broad, with mid-length sandy hair, and a short trimmed beard. He was also battle-scared and reminded Harry very much of a light-haired version of Moody. He wore robes of a deep purple, with a sigil of a hippogriff flying across a deep blue sky on his chest.

The witch, who sat to the left of the first in the middle of the three, wore robes of a bright yellow, the sigil of a hawk ready to strike on them. She had long dark hair, tied loosely back, and tinged with just a touch of gray. A sharp nose and deep hazel eyes complimented this kind, handsome-looking woman--though under the kindness Harry saw a fierceness that he was sure he would not have noticed even a short time ago.

The last of the group wore robes of midnight blue; a snarling manticore adorned his. He had dark, curly hair, and eyes were as dark as night. He was a once handsome man who looked haunted and forlorn. Harry could see the deep sadness there. He felt like he could almost understand that look.

The blue-robed wizard spoke. "Be easy, Horatio. This young wizard's wariness should bode well for the seriousness of his plight, though I am unsure how to take the declaration of dealings with a book of such powerful black arts." He turned to Harry, waved his hand, and a high-backed wooden chair appeared next to him. "Please sit. We will speak for a few moments before the official tribunal begins."

"Thank you my Lords, and Lady," he said as he sat.

"Please dispense with the formalities, young wizard." This was the witch who spoke now. She surveyed him--he sat much as he had at the trial, legs crossed, his arms on the armrests, fingers tented in front of him, hoping he looked as collected as he did then. She continued, "As you may have heard, this is the most esteemed wizard Horatio, and this distinguished wizard is called Morgus, and I am called Eleanora." She ended with a small smile.

Harry nodded to each of them in turn, and returned the small smile. "It is a great honor to meet you all. Your order is something of a legend by now. My name is Harry Potter." He made sure to watch carefully for any reaction, in case there was any contact with another wizard. He saw none and was relieved, but still cautious.

"It is as I thought when we first saw you. Many an age has passed since we set ourselves upon this tome." Morgus spoke again, his voice soft and clear.

"Well more than a thousand years, from what I can figure." Harry realized something--he was speaking and understanding English from these wizards. "Pardon me, I just realized, how is it you we speak the same language? The beginning of the book is in what I know as Latin."

Horatio spoke again. "A universal translator spell. It only works inside a construct spell like this book."

Harry nodded slightly. "I see. I've never even heard of a spell that could be a universal translator, especially with a language that hadn't been invented when the spell was cast." He bowed in respect.

"A thousand years. . . such a very long time. . . and again we are called to fight against the dark." She paused for a moment, and an odd expression crossed her face as she continued. "If I may ask, what is the device upon your face?"

'On my face? What the hell is she talking about?' he thought frantically, then realized: "They are called eye glasses. They are a device for correcting poor vision."

The three facing him nodded in understanding. "Well then," Morgus spoke, "the tribunal shall begin now, Harry Potter. You have read and understood the introduction of this book?"

Harry nodded.

"Then we shall proceed. You mentioned your enemy, and the use of dark magic. I assume he or she is a powerful dark wizard?"

Harry nodded again and was about to speak when the gravely voice cut in. "And what can a boy your age have done to get a dark wizard that angry with you? Did he catch you with his daughter or some such?" His voice was practically dripping with sarcasm.

Harry was about to lash out at him, but kept his temper. It seemed to be a full-time job, just doing that. "No sir," he said coldly. "He has been trying to kill me since he knew I was born." He paused for a moment then continued in a soft voice, "You see, there was a prophecy, given before I was born," he trailed off.

He saw the trio nodding before Eleanora spoke in a kind voice, "We understand, Harry; it has happened before. Every few generations the Fates give a task to one such as you. It is always a heavy burden to bear."

"Just because he tells us he has been giving a task does not mean he is worthy to be as one of us," Horatio growled. He reminded Harry so much of Moody now, it was scary.

Morgus spoke. "He will have the chance to prove himself, old friend," he said to the scarred wizard, then turned to look at Harry again. "You will be able to project your memories to us, to prove your worth to us."

He nodded and began to give a very brief story of his life, explaining the reasons why he was the Boy-Who-Lived. He sent flashes of memory only when he sensed confusion from the three. He also had to go through a very thorough explanation of Hogwarts; a school for witchcraft was something unheard of for them. He learned that, in their time, knowledge was passed from parents to children, and those born to Muggles were adopted by a family and treated and educated as part of such. Harry also had to explain about the concept of the Ministry of Magic; after all, they had lived in a time even before the Witches' or Warlock Councils. He explained the weakness of the current Minister, and that the dark forces were gaining followers and power. He also spoke of the underground movement lead by his Headmaster, and that Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard of this age.

There was silence for several moments as they considered everything he had said. "We move on to specifics now. We ask you to show us the proof of your worth, of your desire to serve the light. Know this though--if you try to hide much, we will be able to sense it."

Harry thought hard about this. He was flummoxed for a time, his mind whirling--but as happened so often lately, a certain lovely redhead popped into his mind. He smiled softly, and began to send images of his second year at Hogwarts. He sent them the memories of the Chamber of Secrets and of the basilisk, making sure to show them Tom Riddles diary.

He looked up after a few minutes and saw them looking impressed. "And how old were you when you and the Phoenix fought the basilisk?" Horatio said in a voice that matched his look.

"I was twelve. The Phoenix, by the way, belongs to my Headmaster. My own, Falcore, joined me less than a week ago."

"A Phoenix has joined with you, at your age?" Morgus said a bit disbelievingly.

Harry nodded, and sent them the images of his meeting with Falcore.

Eleanora spoke next. "You were injured. Did you actually face your enemy, this so-called 'Lord' Voldemort?"

Harry replied softly, "No, some of his followers set a trap for me...." He paused a moment and showed them the duel.

Again the three looked impressed, and stayed silent for a moment. He thought to say, "Perhaps if I showed you a duel I witnessed recently? Dumbledore protected me from Voldemort. You should see what I am up against." They nodded in agreement.

They were silent for a long time now; each seemed to be going over the duel several times. The growling voice said, "Your enemy is filth--extremely powerful, yes, but filth all the same. You have a lot of work to do, boy." The other two nodded in agreement.

Eleanora spoke with a hint of a smile. "Your Headmaster seems to be an extraordinary man. I've never seen someone use transfiguration in such a way. How I would have liked to know him, though, those robes." She finished with a chuckle.

Harry laughed with her. He was still a bit angry with his Headmaster, but the three noticed the deep affection in his voice. "Yes, it seems something of a tradition now. The more powerful the witch or wizard, the more extravagant the robes. I always thought it was somehow fitting on him,"

Morgus also showed a hint of a smile and said, "The influence of Merlin, handed down through the generations," he paused and frowned as if in thought. "That small ball of fire, was that perhaps his 'Living fire'?"

"I suppose so. I learned it from some copies of his notes, but I don't know the name of it. I've been calling it, 'Merlin's Fire.'"

"A fitting name and quite an accomplishment learning it. It shows your power levels are well beyond your years, even before your unlocking rituals. But beware, young wizard--using pure magic that way is a wonderful and powerful thing, but there are dangers, especially to one that knows not his levels. You have much work to do. If you drain yourself completely, you will die, with or without finishing the task the Fates set you, so be wary." Eleanora looked over at the other two and received nods. She continued, "My fellows here are ready to agree that you are worthy. Though I need two points clarified before we proceed." She looked at him hard for a moment. "We are not full beings here, just a semblance of what we were, and each with a portion of our senses. What I sense from you is great guilt, along with great sadness. You've showed us how noble you've acted though out your young life. I would ask you to explain this."

Harry met her eyes for long moments, and began to send images of Sirius and of the night at the ministry. He tried to show his fear for his friends, the betrayal by his family, Cedric being killed. He hesitated for just a moment and then sent his shame for his using the Cruciatus curse on Bella. If they were going to judge him, then he wanted them to judge him on his accomplishments as well as his shame and foolish mistakes.

Silence reigned for long moments before the growling voice came out very softly, "Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy giving pain, Harry?"

Harry struggled to meet Horatio's eyes. He shook his head, his eyes shinning with tears of shame.

"We understand, Harry. We have all done things that we are most ashamed of, and done things we would have never thought we were capable of...."

This silence was much shorter this time before Eleanora spoke. "And then it is agreed that our knowledge is yours to study and use. You have a noble and loving soul, Harry Potter, and in our time you would have been a welcomed and respected member of our Order."

Harry rose from his chair and again bowed formally. In a soft voice he replied, "I thank you with all my heart. I do not mean to seem rude, but I'd like to begin as soon as possible."

She nodded knowingly, and spoke kindly. "We understand, Harry. Your enemy has many years more experience and knowledge than you, and you need to catch up as quickly as possible. We understand. . ."

Morgus spoke now. "Unfortunately, we have not the precise knowledge to destroy your enemy. As you have shown us, even the Avada Kedavra curse was not enough." He sighed softly. "So even with the knowledge you receive from us, you will have much work to do."

Harry nodded slightly. He had already figured this.

"Harry, before we can begin, you must decide the direction you wish to proceed in," Eleanora said.

"Uh. . . pardon me, but what do you mean, exactly?"

Horatio spoke now, "If this Dumbledore fellow wanted to learn everything in this book, it would take him about a year or so spending a couple of hours a day at work. Partly because of his power levels, but more importantly because of the knowledge he already possesses."

Morgus continued. "We could not fit all of our combined knowledge into one book. We tried very hard to do so. We settled on leaving out much of the knowledge that was common in our time. No matter that time has passed--the theories remain the same."

Harry spoke slowly, considering what he just heard, and said, "So I will be given the rarer or unknown knowledge, but much of the basics I need to learn through other books."

"Partially correct, but still incomplete. You have learned much of the basics already. Not only must you learn the knowledge beyond the mere basics, but you must train your magic and your body to work them, much like you had to do whenever you completed an absorption ritual. Although there is a considerable difference in the way we will pass of our knowledge unto you."

Harry's eyebrows rose slightly as he said, "May I ask what you mean by 'considerable difference?'"

Eleanora spoke now. "They will be far harder on you; you will be receiving the information in the form of memories, as if you were a student of ours, rather then remembering the words from a book. Each time you receive knowledge this way, it will put a drain on your magical core. This cannot be achieved without the sacrifice of energy, and using that much of your magic cannot be done without causing pain to one as young as you." She looked sadly at him for a moment and said, "I am sorry, but there is no other way. There are positives, though--using that much magic regularly, with appropriate periods of restoration, will strengthen your core and you will develop much faster than the unlocking rituals you have already performed."

Morgus put in quietly, "Without the chance of negative long term effects, as with typical rituals of this kind."

Harry paused for a moment, considering what he was just told. "I understand. I thank you for your cautions. Are you able to advise me in what directions I should begin?"

"We can advise you some, yes." Horatio spoke now. "The next step will be a bit like the memory transfer. The difference would be that we would be looking at your general strengths and weaknesses, and any abilities that still lie dormant."

"Also taken into much consideration is the task that lies before you, as well as the forces against you," Morgus added.

He continued, "This will not be painful, nor will it be harmful in any way. You may feel a slight tingling sensation through out your body." He smiled now and said, "Try not to wiggle about too much."

Harry smiled slightly and said with a nod, "I am ready to begin."

The three nodded, and it was as they said--there was no pain. It felt almost as if a hundred feathers were caressing his entire body. Harry became slightly alarmed then, as he was getting. . . aroused. The sensation was driving him mad. He felt the blush rise upon his face as he realized he was sitting directly in front of a woman. The men in the room didn't help much either. He chanced a glance at the two men, who obviously knew this would occur, as they were struggling--none too effectively, he thought--to control their faces. He fought to keep still, and struggled to think of the most unattractive thoughts he could.

'Aunt Marge in a string bikini,' he thought frantically.

'No help!'

He tried to picture himself kissing a man. 'No DAMMIT!' The picture in his head quickly turned into Ginny. It stayed there for several long minutes before he fought away from the thoughts. The result was that his thoughts alternated to every girl he had ever found remotely attractive. When it fell upon Hermione...

'She's like your sister, you freak!' he screamed at himself.

'A very attractive sister though. . . stop that you GIT!'

Harry took several deep breaths and tried to clear his mind, as he had trained for with Occlumency. It worked to a small extent. He chanced a look down, and thankfully his crossed legs and robes obscured most of his embarrassment, but he felt his cheeks burning red.

After another minute it was thankfully over with, but he was certain that Aunt Marge in a bikini would be in every nightmare he had for the rest of his life.

Morgus spoke first, and he did a poor job of hiding the amusement in his voice. "You did very well; most are unable to stop themselves from moving in their seat for more then the first minute of the scan."

Harry shot him a dirty look which only caused the two wizards to totally break down, tears of laughter streaming down there faces. He chanced a look at Eleanora who was doing an admirable job of pretending to be politely puzzled. But she gave herself away, as the corners of her lips twitched almost continuously.

She finally mastered her face and cleared her throat loudly, hoping to calm her companions. She said, "It is as we thought. Your adult strengths are awakening, and rather quickly. Your recent use of large amounts of magic is speeding the process. It would be my estimation that you are now equal is raw magic to a fully developed adult wizard of slightly above average power. As I said earlier though, as you train your levels will continue to rise quickly."

Morgus spoke next. "We see that you have begun your utilize your Sensing skill, though whoever is training you in this method may not be the most experienced in it himself."

Harry interrupted. "I've been teaching myself."

"Ah, I see. Well, we can show you better methods--techniques and styles as well as magical objects you can create to aid in your development. I also noticed your mental defenses, and I see some residual damage to your aura from previous attacks." At Harry's startled look he quickly continued, "Nothing permanent, I assure you, but it seems that much of the damage was due to close-range mental attacks...not of the attacks you have shown us that come through the link with this Voldemort."

Harry thought back to the evenings spent locked in Snape's dungeon, and without really considering it fully, he passed the memories along to the tribunal.

They were silent again for several minutes, watching the combined days of memories, till Horatio roared out angrily, "Damn bloody fool! Idiot! He could have done you serious harm, Harry! Didn't he realize he wasn't attacking a full grown adult, but a boy with little experience?!?"

Eleanor put a calming hand on Horatio's arm, and said to Harry in a kind voice, "Your conscious defenses are adequate right now, and your dreams seem to be defended well enough. We could of course work on that immediately if you wish it."

Harry sat considering it for a while, when Morgus spoke. "You do not have to decide yet. We will discuss other fields first--for instance you have many latent talents, one being the healing touch. Though it is the longest of all studies, in war it is a much-needed skill."

"You should also realize that many talents and skills overlap." She paused at his uncertain look and continued, "For instance, using your general sensing ability for medical purposes. The techniques for both are very similar, and it is a very useful asset. Our methods of scanning go deeper than any other of their type, and because you already have use of your raw magic abilities we should be able to teach you some general, but potent healing skills, without too much strain on you."

Horatio spoke now. "What is your goal, boy, your immediate goal? We know what the Fates will ask of you eventually, but what is it you need right now?"

Harry didn't pause. "To stay alive and keep the people around me alive so I can finish my task."

Horatio smiled now. "Excellent. Precisely, you must stay alive. From the memories of your last battle, we see that you are something of a duelist. With whom have you been training with?"

"At the beginning of the summer holidays I was able to acquire six Orbs of Onuris. I've been studying spells myself, mostly from the ancient Aurors. Recently I've been training with four of the orbs, three set at novice and one at moderate."

Horatio was nodding in approval. "It's good you have them. Getting six must have been very difficult, but in the end they will make your training much easier, though no battle orb can compare against dueling a master."

Eleanora broke in now. "I wonder though, why is it you chose to train using four, as opposed to one more powerful construct?"

Horatio and Morgus both nodded, and he replied, "Well, his Death Eaters, as he calls them, hardly ever work alone. They want me very badly, and I keep escaping so I figure the next time they come after me, there will be more than just the three I faced this past week."

Horatio snorted. "These so called Death Eaters. . . filth and scum, hiding behind masks. . . evil filth, some things never change." He sighed, then continued, "So we will teach you to duel. To duel in the way that made us the most feared warriors on any field of battle. You will learn the Dance of the Warrior."

Harry nodded; this is what he most needed to learn.

"You know enough spells to keep you out of trouble for a time. We will teach you more, but the dance itself is most important. It will be weeks before you will be able to train against four orbs again. You will learn our Forms; this is the basis of our battle style. It is the basis for dueling with wands and swords, as well as daggers and hand to hand. You will train with them all. At the onset it will be your greatest hurtle. Training and strengthening your body, mind and magic, training it to move and work together--do this and you will be able to face all six of your orbs without breaking a good sweat,"

Morgus cut in. "As you train our forms you will be training your magic, mind, and body to work together, you will find that the memories you receive from us will be more easily assimilated during those times."

He paused, looked hard at Harry, and said, "Will you learn?"

He stood and replied in a clear, strong voice. "I am ready. I will learn, and I will win,"

The trio stood with him and smiled.