Harry Potter and the Dance of the Warrior

Chapter Seven: Forms

He stood in the center of his trunk's chamber. All the furniture was either Banished or stacked up in one corner. He wore no jeans under his robes now; he needed the freedom of movement. He stood on the balls of his feet, spread slightly wider than shoulder width apart. Knees bent slightly, back straight, hands before his chest, palms tightly together, elbows rigidly out. He almost looked as if he was praying, except for the dim, prism-like light coming from between his hands.

Very slowly, Harry was pushing all thought from his head, at the same time pushing his magic to the surface. This was the last time he could go through the Forms before the twins showed up. This was the sixth time he was starting them. He hadn't been able to get more then halfway through before falling badly enough to break the trance, and the almost half he had completed was as ungraceful as ever. Even through they were awkward and uncompleted, they were taking there toll on him. His muscles were getting tired, and he had a hollow ache deep within his chest.

'My magic must be getting a real workout,' he thought, very pleased in spite of his weariness.

The weariness was nothing, though, compared to what was in his mind after a failed attempt. Throughout the Forms and some a bit after his mind was accessing memories, ones he didn't have before. Some he didn't understand yet--advanced magics of different sorts--but with others...He remembered being in a high-walled courtyard with Eleanora. They were standing together, him with his back to her front. He was focusing his mind, readying himself to begin. She was already prepared, standing rather close behind him, speaking to him in a soft, serene voice. Encouraging him, guiding him through each motion of the Forms, showing his mind, magic, and body how to move and work together.

Or perhaps he was out in a lovely open meadow, sun high and bright, birds singing in a nearby tree. He was standing next to a rough wooden table with Horatio, the table loaded down with weapons. They ranged from short swords to rapiers to broad swords to battle axes. There were knives of many types, from throwing to dueling, from small little assassin's dirks to long, heavy, battle daggers. They spoke of weapons and tactics. They talked of knowing one's limits and seeing enemies' weak points, and what tools to use to achieve the kill. Finally Harry chose the weapons would study.

But then again, maybe he remembered being in a high, round, tower room, surrounded by cauldrons and scales, and the room filled with all manner of potions apparatus. He remembered having long discussions with Morgus, who was working and brewing right next to him. They spoke of potions with causes and effects of which Harry had never heard. Some potions had been replaced by newer ones, many of which were far less effective, forsaken because witches and wizards had become lazy.

Or could it have been the four of them, sitting cross-legged on large cushions in a dark room, lit only by a few sparse candles? Sending their minds out together, the three masters showed him the proper basis for scanning, and the proper groundings as to not to be overwhelmed. They spoke quietly of the differences between normal Sensing and the skills used in magical medicine. They showed him tools to aid him, and to protect him. They showed him the things he would need and how to create them.

It began:

His wand arm was crossing his chest, the tip just above his left shoulder; it dropped as he began spinning slowing to his right. At the end of the spin his wand slashed out, as if launching a curse.

He half spun again, to the left now, going to a knee in one motion, raising his wand in defense.

Rolling forward, heels over his head, his wand slashed upwards as if it were a sword.

He launched himself forward into the air, spinning and slashing.

He landed badly--not enough to break the trance, but it was a close thing. He spun and slashed, rolled and lunged. It was awkward, not the pretty, graceful Forms he was shown by Eleanora, but it was a beginning. After several more moments that prism light could be seen radiating from parts of his body. Dim, very dim, but it was the first signs of his body and magic working together.

He lasted for less time than his previous attempt. Harry's weariness caused him to fall while he was attempting a back jump and spin, well before the midway point. He landed a bit better than he thought he would, as he sat back on his heels, trying to regain his breath. Body, minds and magic were so weary, but he felt accountably good. After a few minutes his breathing evened out, he was able to rise shakily and make his way out of the trunk.

Stretching, showering, and completely covering himself with a healthy dose of the unguent, he dressed in black on black, jeans and a tee. He proceeded down to the kitchen for a butterbeer to await the twins' arrival.

As it happened he didn't have very long to wait. Upon his last swallow he heard two distinctive pops coming from the living room. He heard a familiar happy voice calling up the stairs, "Oi, Potter! Shouldn't you be down here awaiting our arrival with bated breath?"

The trio exchanged exuberant greetings, with typical cracks about Harry not finding enough trouble at school and going looking for Death Eaters during the summer holiday too. It seemed that Mrs. Weasley had packed them an enormous dinner, and the three ate with fervor, along with drinking several pitchers of butterbeer. Harry matched the twins voracious appetites bite for bite. Seems his training was giving him a huge appetite.

There wasn't much talking during the meal. The only sounds that could be heard were those of three young men gorging themselves as only three young men could do whenever a woman wasn't present.

'We're bloody disgusting,' Harry thought with a chuckle.

"Damn Harry, you're sure putting it away tonight," said Fred with a laugh.

"Yeah, and after we promised Mum we'd make sure you ate, even if we had to tie you down and force-feed you," George continued in a disappointed voice.

"We were looking forward to it, actually."

"We even brought some new treats to test on you."

"Oh yeah, I'd let that happen," Harry said laughingly.

With some quick wand waving the three of them cleaned up the kitchen in minutes, the twins' eyes widening when Harry joined them in the cleanup. He quickly explained about his exemption for the underage wizardry laws.

"We would've killed for one of those, even just a year ago. . ."

"Bloody Boy-Who-Lived, always bloody gets everything so bloody easy," Fred said in an uncanny impersonation of Snape's sneering tone.

Harry's mouth hung open for a second in shock, and then he broke up laughing.

"Yeah, Harry, we hear you and Snapey have been getting along famously this summer. . . something about him writhing on the floor at your feet. . ." The twins were both laughing hard at the thought.

Harry's look darkened a moment, and then he said in a hesitant voice, "Wish he would just get off my case, and leave me alone. . . Never misses a chance, that one. . ."

They both noticed Harry's mood change. They had been warned of this, and both were hoping to keep his mood bright. He had always been a good friend to them--to the whole family really.

"Well, Mr. Potter, shall we adjourn to the drawing room? We, that is, my most distinguished brother and I, need to discuss matters of business with you." Fred said this in a dead serious, clearly dignified voice that totally threw Harry for a moment.

Harry became suspicious instantly. "Sure, but why in the drawing room?"

George, seeing the suspicion, grinned. He replied in a condescending voice, "My dear Mr. Potter, you should know that the inner workings of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes are highly classified."

Harry chuckled as the three made their way up to the drawing room; he was glad that they were going to talk shop business. For a split second he had thought they were going to start in on him about Ginny. He hadn't really considered what the Weasley sons would have to say about him escorting their little sister to the wedding. Hopefully the twins didn't know yet. But on Saturday he would have to face at least five of them.

'Oh hell, what is Ron gonna say?' he thought in sudden horror.

The thought quickly vanished for the moment as they all sat, the twins looking unusually serious. George spoke first. "Here, Harry, this is yours," he said, handing him several pieces of parchment.

He took the parchments and unfolded them curiously. After a second: "B. . . but I didn't want this! You didn't have to do this, Fred, George. . ."

The pair grinned at him. "We know, Harry, but fair is fair," said George.

"We wouldn't be making boatloads of money without you, mate." This was Fred.

"It's all settled, mate, you're one third owner!"

"And no arguments! Or else. . ." This ended in a pair of evil grins.

Harry sat for several moments in bemused silence, trying to express his jumbled thoughts, but Fred broke in first. "See, you're exactly the type of partner we appreciate." He grinned broadly. "The silent kind."

This caused the three of them to laugh raucously. "All you have to do is tell us what to do with your share of the profits."

"We already spoke to Bill, he said he'll deposit it in your vault, or if you want. he'll set up a new business account for you."

It felt good to laugh--he laughed so little--but his thoughts were befuddled, till inspiration hit him. "Listen Fred, George, since you're insisting I take this, and I don't really want it..." He paused, forming his sentence. "I say we set up an account for charitable donations, under the business name as well as ours."

The twins looked thoughtful. Harry was a bit nervous that the wouldn't like the idea of giving away the money that they worked so hard to make. "If you're sure, Harry. I mean, like we said, it's official--you're our partner, and it's your gold."

"But it should go in your name only," said George.

"No way!" Harry said forcibly. "You two are doing all the work; all I did was give you the start-up money."

They were quietly contemplating this, when Harry said, "You know, this is how evil gits like Malfoy have things go their way, with contributions like this."

The twins looked at him appreciatively. "You see Fred, this is why our dear Mr. Potter never made it as a prefect, bloody devious he is." George said this with pride.

"Knew there was a reason we liked him," his twin replied.

Harry smiled wryly, as Fred said, "You know there is one other thing. We're gonna be in a bit of trouble when you all go back to school."

George continued, "Too true. Ron has been ruddy excellent with the customers, and Ginny comes in whenever it gets too insane."

Fred sighed. "Yeah, we need a manager, someone we can trust."

"We thought of Lee, first off. But he promised his da that he would work for him, getting their new store up and running," this was George.

"Yeah, Harry, our esteemed and most silent partner, will thoust break thy silence, if thou hast any clue as to a witch or wizard that can help us in our time of need?" Fred finished in a tragic voice.

Harry grinned at them; the answer came to him immediately. "Remus."

The pair looked uncomfortable. They didn't seem to think much of the idea. He spoke before they could. "I know what you're thinking--he's a nice enough guy, a bit, boring maybe, stodgy about rules and all, especially for a joke shop, but listen to my reasons before you say anything."

Harry thought about it for a minute before stating his first reason. "First off, you two are always inventing, right?" They both nodded. "Well he's bloody brilliant, trust me. When you get stuck he'll come up with something, and chances are he'll come up with a legal way of doing it."

They nodded slowly again, then grinned, but didn't look convinced yet.

"Two, he's honest, and I trust him, something I couldn't say about many people. There aren't many outside of your lot's house really." He lost his thread for a moment, then picked it up again. "You could leave him in charge without a problem."

The twins nodded a little more enthusiastically now.

He started again with a small grin, "Well, there is the fact that the three of us owe him big time."

Now they looked at him completely confused. George spoke first, "Harry, he was one of the best teachers we had at Hogwarts, but we really don't owe him. . ." He looked slightly uncomfortable.

Harry repressed a smile. Well, sort of--his lips were twitching. He leaned a bit closer to them and said with one raised eyebrow, "Oh, didn't you two once tell me you would've been expelled if not for Mr. Mooney?"

Harry started laughing at their open-mouthed expressions, "You mean. . ." Fred said in awe.

Harry stopped laughing, and said with a soft smile, "And I'm sure Mr. Prongs and Mr. Padfoot would have no problems with me speaking for them. They would tell you the same, Remus would be brilliant."

"Harry, you actually know who Prongs and Padfoot are?" It was George now using the awed voice.

Harry nodded, and still with the soft smile that was a bit sadder now, he said, "You two remember seeing my Patronis in the D.A.?"

The both nodded in confusion. "Yeah Harry, but what was that. . ."

Harry cut him off. "You know Remus taught me the charm. He was shocked when he saw it, said it looked just like my dad when he transformed."

"Wow, Harry, I didn't know your dad was an Animagus. . ." This was Fred.

George cut him off. "MR. PRONGS!!!"

His smile widened a bit.

Fred now, "Wait a minute, and Sirius was a dog Animagus. . . PADFOOT!"

Harry was laughing again at the looks of awe on his friends' faces. "Now, do you think one of the Marauders isn't good enough to work in the shop?"

They both shook their heads, still seemingly trying to wrap their minds around this new information. "And besides, what's funnier than a werewolf at a joke shop!"

The three completely broke up laughing now. After a few moments the laughter subsided and George said, "You know, Dumbledore was hoping to get another Order member in Diagon Alley." He stopped abruptly. "Sorry, Harry, shouldn't have said that, you know Order business and all."

"Yeah, now that we're members Mum threatened us with a hundred deaths if we told you lot anything, especially after last year. . ." Fred broke off now, looking uncomfortable.

"That's all right, mates, I realized that I don't need the Order to tell me things. The Death Eaters will come back for me eventually," he said again with a sad smile.

George thought to lighten the mood, asked brightly, "What about Mr. Wormtail?" he asked enthusiastically.

Neither one of the twins ever saw Harry as they saw him now. This was the Harry Potter that stood alone against three Death Eaters. The same boy that fought a dark wizard, and won, in his first year of school. They saw the wizard that was almost family, with murder in his eyes.

They never heard this voice from Harry either, even when he spoke of the most hated Potions Master; this was a voice of pure hatred. "When I get my hands on Pettigrew I will deal with him personally."

"Now I understand," Fred said softly.

"Yeah, all the conversations we only half listened to," continued his brother.

"Surprised you two never cornered Ron for all the gory details. . ." Harry said in a distant voice.

The sat in uncomfortable silence for a time, each deep in thought. Soon after they prepared to say goodnight. It was still quite early, but Mrs. Weasley insisted that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were much too young to stay at the shop all alone, so she had joined them. The twins were in a panic at the thought of their mum shooing paying customers out, saying they were too young for all the dangerous rubbish. They Apparated out, telling Harry that they would speak to Remus about the job opening when he returned on Friday afternoon.

Harry had just pulled out parchment, ink and quills, when the pair Apparated right back where they had just left from. Harry looked at them, eyebrows raised.

"We almost forgot. . ." George started.

"Yes we did. We know you're escorting Ginny on Saturday. . ." Fred continued.

"Just a friendly warning between mates. . ."

"You might be able to out-duel the both of us, Mr. Potter. . ."

"But you hurt our little sister in any way. . ."

"We will get even. . ."

The pair gave him identical evil grins as the both left again.

Harry had to chuckle, but it stopped abruptly as he thought what it would be like to have a practical joke vendetta waged against him by the twins.

'Might be safer to face the Death Eaters again,' he thought, as he began to pen a letter to little Annabelle.

Once he had finished it, he attached it to the box of treats the twins had brought over. He first checked to make sure there wasn't anything dangerous inside, and then prepared it so Hedwig could deliver it in the morning.

He leaned back in his chair and let his mind wander. He drifted from topic to topic for a while till it settled again on the Ministry hearing. He made a quick decision and ran up to his room, returning several minutes later carrying his stone Pensive. He settled back into his chair, withdrew his wand and brought up the memories of the trial. Raising his wand up to the side of his head, he drew it away with a thick silvery thought hanging from the end of it, which he deposited. He leaned forward, touching the quick silver surface of his memories and dropped inside.

Harry emerged from the stone basin nearly forty-five minutes later (he had skipped the parts of the trial he wasn't actively involved with), now even more dumbfounded.

"That can't have been me out there. . . Could it?" he said in a low, bewildered voice.

He sat there for a few minutes, thinking hard, 'Ok, it couldn't have been the Imperious Curse; I do well against those. . . It had to be me. . .'

'Damn, I looked like. . . like a young Dumbledore or something...'

'When the hell do I even sit like that. . .?'

Harry chanced a look down and saw he was sitting exactly that way without even realizing it. With a start, he quickly rose from the chair. His mouth had gone dry and he decided it might be a good time for a butterbeer.

Harry sat in the kitchen, drinking his butterbeer, lost deep within his memories. He heard a whooshing sound and a small pop coming from the living room.

"Harry. . . Harry, are you there?" Hermione's voice called out.

Harry entered the living room to see her disembodied head amid a small crackling fire; she was looking all around herself with great curiosity.

He grinned. "First time?"

Her head snapped in his direction and gave him a smile. "Oh yes. You know, I've read all about the Floo network, but it's nothing like how they say, actually it's rather. . ."

"Bloody uncomfortable," he said with a smirk.

"Harry," she said in a reproving tone. "Language."

"Sorry, Hermy," he said, still smirking.

"Bloody hell, Potter, stop calling me that! You're just lucky I can't hex you right now. . ." she said in only partial mock outrage.

He chuckled, but decided not to push it. "So, what's up?"

"Well, Ginny told me you're sending her shopping for a wedding gift. She's going on Thursday, by the way. Well anyway, Mrs. Weasley is going with her. Ginny and I secretly think she's going just to make sure she doesn't spend too much money. Ginny wouldn't tell how much you gave her to spend." She grinned and he returned it.

"Ginny and I shopped in Diagon alley for a bit today, so I really don't feel like going again, and Ron is going to be working all day that day. . .

She seemed nervous now. "Well, I was wondering if we could hang out?"

Harry grinned at her. "You're just dying to look at my books aren't you?"

She blushed slightly, and said, "Not only that, Harry! We haven't spent any time alone in ages, and I think we've got loads to talk about." She gave him an odd smile.

Harry gave her a true smile and said honestly, "I'd like that a lot, Hermione, I really would."

She smiled broadly at the look on his face. "Wonderful. What time should I come by?"

"Uh. . . how about around noon?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Having a lie-in all summer, you lazy bum?"

He gave her an offended look, and said in a lofty tone, "Hardly. . ." He couldn't keep the look up, though--he grinned and said, "I just have some work I need to do in the mornings, uh. . . work I need to do in private."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly. He could see the unspoken question, the insatiable curiosity of his almost-sister. "Uh, listen I should get back to work. I'll see you Thursday."

"Wait, don't go yet, Ginny wants to say goodnight," she said quickly.

Hermione's head disappeared for a second, then returned. "Uh, she needs five minutes, she's finishing something for Mrs. Weasley."

"Ok, I'll wait. 'Night. Hermione."

"'Night, Harry!" Her head disappeared again, this time without returning.

He sat down in one of the chairs, his thoughts returning to the trial, and how it had looked from another perspective.

He remembered seeing Angelina. 'That felt normal. . . just seeing an old friend.'

He thought about how he felt that day. 'Well, I was damn hurt. . . but I don't remember being all that nervous.'

'I was nearly sick with nerves last time at the ministry. . . why not this time. . .'

He thought about being accused of dark magic. 'Well, I remember being furious. . . couldn't tell from the outside though. . .'

He was brought from his reverie by Ginny's bright voice. "Hi, Harry!"

It took a second for him to respond. "Hi, Ginny. That was fast."

"Uh, I was about to apologize for taking so long. It's been nearly fifteen minutes. You ok?" she asked tentatively.

He quickly covered his bemused state, and replied brightly, "Oh yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking."

She looked at him closely for a moment, and then said in what sounded to be a hopeful voice, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry answered quickly, too quickly. "No, Gin, it's fine. . ."

He immediately saw a range of emotions cross her face. It went from disappointment, to hurt, and then to anger. 'I have to remember her temper can be as bad as mine. Well, maybe not that bad, but I didn't want to upset her.'

'Maybe it would help to talk about it. . .' he thought uncertainly.

He spoke before she could. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said no that quickly. I mean, I wasn't thinking about anything too important. I was just. . . just very confused. . ." He ended quietly, "I'm not really used to being able to just talk to anyone. . ."

He gave her a grim smile and said, "After all, it is summer, and I'm used to having only owl post to talk to people."

Ginny quickly realized that she had let a little hurt show on her face. She was annoyed with herself about that, but then again maybe it wasn't an entirely bad thing. Maybe she could get Harry to finally open up, even a tiny bit, but everyone had agreed that no one was to push him.

She said very seriously, without looking at him, "Harry, I don't like it, I will admit that. But..." She sighed. "I do understand--only a small little bit, mind--but I do understand something of what you've been through, and I just want you to try and remember I'm here if you want to talk." Then, even more quietly, "I'll be here for you."

She looked up at him and saw the oddest expression. He looked almost tearful, but he wore the softest little smile. She was sure now--she didn't know where it came from, but there was love in his eyes. She might just be a stupid girl sometimes, but she wasn't a total blockhead like Ron.

"I was using my Pensieve a little while ago. I was reviewing the trial from the other day. . . I just couldn't understand why everyone is praising me,"

Ginny was lost in her own thoughts when Harry starting telling her what was on his mind. She was so preoccupied that she thought she missed the beginning of what he had said. 'A Pensieve, what the hell is a Pensieve?' she thought, but did not want to interrupt him the first time he started to open up.

"Then I saw myself. . . Who the hell was that sitting there?!? When am I ever that cool and collected? All I remember was trying, with all the willpower I had, not to whip out my wand and curse that slime bag who said I used dark magic."

His rant went on for some time, with him pacing back and forth in front of the hearth, before he turned to her with a sheepish expression. "Sorry, Ginny, I didn't mean to rave at you, I'm just. . ."

She smiled to tell him it was all right and said in an understanding voice, "You're confused, I understand that. We all understand that, I suppose. I'm sorry for saying it if it bothers you, but you were pretty amazing out there. . ."

She saw him blushing now. She tried to ignore it, but didn't do very well. After all, this might be the first time he was blushing and she wasn't. She felt a little bad, but had to grin at him. This in turn caused him to blush just a bit more, and she smiled wider.

'Why the hell am I blushing!!!' he thought frantically. He mumbled to her, "For a minute, when I first saw myself, I actually thought I was under the Imperious." He chuckled nervously.

"Harry, we've all seen glimpses of you like that before," she said very seriously, "whether you want to believe it or not. You're growing up, I guess we all are growing up. . .Maybe it's too fast, too soon. . . but we don't have much choice, do we?"

She continued, "You know we're all proud of you, Harry, you know that Sirius and your parents are proud of you, too, don't you?"

She was looking deep into his eyes, and saw him flinch when she said his name. 'He's still holding it all in. He's still carrying all the blame, even after Dumbledore's talk with him." Her father had told her that Dumbledore took a large part of the responsibility, but it was obvious Harry wasn't buying into it.

"Thanks, Gin," he said, not looking at her. "I should get back to work. . . uh, I guess I'll see you soon." He gave her a weak smile.

She half-heartedly returned it, "Why don't you try to get some sleep, Harry? You have the rest of the summer to work."

"Yeah, it's still early. Maybe I'll give it a try a little later. Goodnight, Ginny," he said, as he turned away from the fireplace.

"Goodnight Harry," she said sadly.

She was about to pull out of the fire when she heard, "Gin." He turned and said, "I really mean it, thanks."

She smiled at him. "Remember, anytime." With that, she returned her head to the Burrow.

Harry walked up the flight of stairs and reentered the drawing room. He paused at the door, and stared at the Pensieve for a few minutes, coming to a decision. He sat where he had earlier, drew his wand again, and deposited another memory. His last duel--he had been putting it off. 'Now is as good a time as any,' he thought, half-heartedly.

At the Burrow, Ginny exited the fireplace to find almost every eye on her. Only her mother wasn't staring at her. Molly was pretending to be reading Witch Weekly, but Ginny could see her mum's eyes' twinkling and the smirk on her face. Her father and oldest brother looked almost like twins; both seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face. Hermione was smirking at her, eyebrows raised. She felt her face growing hot as Ron said laughingly, "Thought you were just gonna say goodnight?"

Ginny's face grew bright red, and she stuttered slightly, "I. . . he. . . well, we were. . . I mean. . ."

That was about all Mr. Weasley and Bill could take, laughter erupting from the two. Hermione turned to look out the window, but Ginny saw her friend only trying not to embarrass her more. Ron just stood there laughing at her embarrassment, till Ginny glared at him, then pointedly glared at Hermione's back. Ron understood the unspoken threat, the laughter and smile quickly fading.

She next turned to Bill, who was laughing harder after seeing Ron crumble under threat. He smirked at her with raised eyebrows, as he felt she could have nothing to threaten him with.

Ginny turned to her mother and said, very sweetly, "Mum, do you think I should show Fleur where Bill hides his old love letters?"

Bills face was caught between laughter and shock. After a moment he was still grinning broadly and gave her an appreciative nod.

By this time Mr. Weasley had fought his own laughter down, but the struggle was causing him to cry from mirth. "Sorry, pumpkin, it's just. . ." and he broke up with laughter again. "You get more and more like your mother every day."

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley cried indignantly.

Mr. Weasley mastered himself enough to say, "Sorry, Molly dear," but ruined it by nearly falling off the chair, laughing hysterically. This time, though, everyone there joined him, including Ginny and Mrs. Weasley.

After a few minutes everyone calmed down and Ginny said, "Dad, do you know what a Pensieve is?"

Mr. Weasley's eyes turned to her curiously. "Yes, Gin-Gin, why do you ask?"

Ginny ignored being called her baby name yet again and said, "Just something Harry mentioned." She wasn't about to tell what Harry had just said. It was private and he had opened up to her for the first time--not much, but it was a start.

"Oh, he must've been talking about Professor Dumbledore's," Hermione put in.

Thankfully Hermione mentioning that Dumbledore had a Pensieve got her off the hook from being questioned as to why she mentioned it. Hermione had some general information about Pensieves and so did her father, but it seemed that Bill knew the most about it. He spoke in great detail about them, from origins to practical applications. She forgot how really brilliant her oldest brother actually was--brilliant, and yet he could still be sweet and funny.

'Wonder why Percy could never even come close to managing that,' she thought, annoyed.

Ginny felt a bit unsettled and also slightly intrigued about something that could take away a memory from a witch, at least until she looked at it from the other point of view. She supposed it could be a useful tool. Maybe it might help her with her own little problem. Then she thought about Harry using it, though. He had so many bad memories, so many terrifying memories. From what Dad and Bill said, the thing must've cost him a fortune. What else would he use it for? She had to think about this before she spoke to him. She said her goodnights and went up to bed.

Harry emerged from the Pensieve almost two hours later. He had watched the duel countless times, observing from every angle. He looked for mistakes and lost opportunities. The only part of the duel that went better than expected was using the tree, but being honest with himself, he knew it was a spur of the moment idea. Whilst he was watching the duel unfold, memories of Horatio came back to him.

"Remember boy, remember where you are, and what you're doing," the growling voice said. If you're not fighting a duel for honor alone and you're outnumbered, you need every advantage you can get or, more importantly, give yourself."

'Ok, so the tree was a perfect example, like Dumbledore using the statues, but could I have done more?' That was the thought that was plaguing him.

He paced the drawing room now, ideas flashing though his mind faster than he could fully comprehend them all. Some were his own original ideas and some were memories that he had never had. At some point he summoned parchment, ink and quill. He jotted down things that he thought warranted studying. At the same time he began to write himself a shopping list. He went back and forth between the two parchments for quite some time. He also wrote out a quick order for Snuffles to take to the apothecary. When no new ideas came to him he sat down heavily. For a moment he was so tired, all he could think of was sleep. Sleep hasn't come easy for him for a long time though--unpleasant dreams plagued him. Luckily, most of the time he didn't remember them. The few times he had remembered parts, but he hoped to forget them as soon as possible. Some of the images came back to him now, and he reacted to them as he had since they began.

Drawing his wand, he muttered, "Accio book." Soon the ancient, black-bound book came sailing into the room, straight into his hands.

He unlatched the heavy metal clasps and opened it. He went past the page with the little window and began to leaf through the pages. Now that he was initiated into the book the pages became filled with the subjects of the many memory transfer rituals. He could choose from the pages the rituals he would like to pursue, though he could always go back to the tribunal if he ever needed to speak to the three for advice. The memory transfer he had performed earlier in the day was a level three ritual. Basically, a level three ritual was approximately three level one rituals. Some subjects weren't that involved that they needed more than one level one ritual or perhaps a level two to complete the knowledge, and the rest of the subject he would study by himself. The level three he had done this morning had been exhausting. The pain had been incredible, something like a sustained low-grade Crucio. He pushed the thought of the fact that he had many more of his main study rituals to go before he was complete. Doing only one main a day would take more than a year to complete those studies.

Harry's plan was to do the heaviest rituals in the morning before his Forms, then one or two minor ones in the evenings before returning to his evening training. He would fit in his other studies whenever he could. He looked through the subjects now; some of the titles had unknown meanings. He wanted to try to tie in the ideas he got from watching the duel. After some time he decided on one level two, dealing with magic in the field of Herbological spells. He saw in the Pensieve that the three Death Eaters had been standing in rather tall grass, with lots of small shrubbery around. He wondered if that could have been used to his advantage.

He went through the rituals, then through the Forms. He only emerged from his trunk when he could no longer stand steadily. He had barely the strength to undress and cover himself in the unguent before falling dead asleep.