The Man of the Moment

Chapter Fourteen: Who Needs Wands?

It was coming up to the Christmas holidays, and Harry felt a slight twinge in his stomach at the thought of everybody going home at the end of term. He looked at the list pinned up in the Gryffindor common room of people who would be staying at Hogwarts; it amounted to zero. Clearly, nobody's parents felt happy with the idea of their children remaining apart from them any longer than was necessary, considering the situation the wizarding world was in.

"There's clearly something about wartime that seems to make people appreciate their family that much more," Harry mused, as he sat down on a nearby chair. He, Ron and Hermione would be staying with the Weasleys- wherever they may be staying. Harry guessed it would either be the Burrow, Grimmauld Place (which technically belonged to him, but he had no qualms about the Order using it as their headquarters) or perhaps even Hogwarts itself. He really didn't know.

He heard footsteps and bantering- he turned around and saw Ron and Hermione standing behind him.

"Ready, Harry?" Ron asked. Harry nodded.

"Yeah," Harry replied. Hermione adjusted the strap on her bag.

"It'll be so nice to see Hagrid after all this time," she said. "I wonder where he's been?"

"Me too," Harry replied. Hagrid had hardly been around Hogwarts since Dumbledore's reading; and Harry was concerned as to why. He hoped Hagrid would alleviate his worry in a few short moments, as they left the common room and made their way down various flights of stairs. Soon enough, they had reached one of the doors to the Hogwarts grounds, and were near enough to Hagrid's hut to be able to see a bright light shining from it. Evidently, he was back from wherever he had got to these past weeks.

Harry spotted Hagrid tending to his pumpkin patch near his hut. There wasn't a great deal growing there at the moment, but as it was December, it was to be expected.

"Mornin'- Harry, Ron, Hermi'ne," Hagrid boomed, on seeing the three students and offering them a cheery wave. He looked down at the earth, which he had previously been raking over.

"They're overwint'rin' now," he explained. "Won't season 'til October." He winked at them. "Not wi'out a little help, anyways."

Harry looked down at the bucket Hagrid has set on the ground. It contained a viscous substance that Harry thought smelt suspiciously of Swelling Solution.

Hagrid took of his gloves and stuffed them into the pockets of his moleskin coat.

"Come in, come in; get yerselves out of the cold," he insisted, and Harry, Ron and Hermione gratefully followed him inside. Hagrid moved a chopping board covered in chunks of meat and a dead rabbit from his oversized table, and beckoned for them to sit down.

"Do yeh fancy a cup o' tea?" he asked, hanging his large copper kettle over the lit fireplace. "I'm makin' one meself."

"Yes please, Hagrid," Hermione replied. Harry and Ron nodded in agreement. Hagrid took the chunks of meat, placed them in a cauldron, then walked over to the open fire and placed it amongst the burning wood and coals.

"Fer Fang," he said, by way of an explanation. "Turns his nose up a' raw meat, he does. Bloody nancy."

Fang briefly lifted his head up from his basket in apparent indignation, before settling back down and dozing off again.

"Anyway, how 'ave you three bin? Gettin' into trouble, no doubt," Hagrid said, with a cheeky grin. Ron feigned a look of innocence.

"Hagrid! Since when do we ever get into trouble?" he protested. Hagrid laughed loudly.

"At least once a term for teh past six years," he replied, jocularly, before looking up at Hermione.

"How're yer doin', Hermi'ne?" he asked, carefully. Harry knew why- it was coming up to Christmas, and it would be the first Christmas Hermione had spent away from home involuntarily.

Hermione shrugged.

"I'm okay, thanks. It's odd not to hear from them, or see them, but I know they're safe," she replied. Hagrid nodded.

"That's the spirit," he said, before taking the kettle off the fire and pouring some of the water into a teapot. He arranged four huge cups and filled each three-quarters to the brim, before adding milk and copious sugar to make each cup full to the brim. He handed each of them a cup.

"Here yer go- that'll keep the frost out," he said, and Harry noticed Hermione appreciatively clasp her cup to her chest.

"Anyway, how're yer getting' on, Harry?" Hagrid asked. Harry knew exactly what he meant by this- it started with a 'p', ended in a 'y' and had the letters 'rophec' in between.

"It's been pretty quiet, really," Harry pointed out. "Persephone wants me to meet some teacher of hers to learn wandless magic..."

Hagrid nearly spluttered his tea over the table.

"Wandless magic?" he asked, awe-struck. "She said she was lookin' inteh it; I had no idea she'd managed to wangle tuition for yeh, too."

"Yeah- I had to answer a bunch of questions for her to take to this teacher bloke..."

"What was his name?" Hagrid asked. Harry shrugged.

"I can't remember- it began with a G..."

"Lama Gyaltsen Mende. That's what you told us, anyway," Hermione interrupted.

"Did he?" Ron asked. Hermione sighed.

"Yes, Ron; he did," she replied, tersely. Harry couldn't help but snigger at Ron's flabbergasted expression.

"I don't know how you remember these things," Ron said.

Hagrid looked impressed.

"Wow. Yer ought ter make the best o' this opportun'ty, Harry," Hagrid advised. "Chances like this don't come yer way every day, yer know."

"I plan to," Harry confirmed. "Once I actually find out what's going on. I don't think the Lama has returned a scroll yet- he's communicating via Persephone, rather than via owl."

Hagrid nodded in understanding.

"Reduces risk o' intercept'on," he said.

"How are you, Hagrid?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, where have you been the past two months- we haven't seen hide nor hair or you!" Ron added. Hagrid coughed, and Harry thought his expression looked somewhat furtive.

"Well, yer know, 'bin busy with Order work, an all," he said.

"That's okay, Hagrid- we're supposed to know about that stuff," Hermione said. "Dumbledore wants Harry to know."

Hagrid pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow.

"I know, Hermi'ne, but... Okay, listen. The MMD have asked me for a few in'erviews, is all," he replied, somewhat nervously. Hermione looked horrified.

"The Magical Murders Department? Oh, Hagrid, they don't suspect you, do they?" she asked. Hagrid laughed.

"No, no, no- not at all. But it turns out I 'ad a bit o' useful information for 'em. However." He reduced his voice to a low whisper and leant closer to the three students. "Thing is, you see, I was a little bit- how should I put this- worse fer wear, at the time which I was a key witness ter, and so I 'ad ter take Veritaserum to validate my statements. That's why it took so long- they had ter find a dose tha' actually worked on me, did'n' they!"

"What took so long?" Harry asked. Hagrid beamed.

"You'll like this, Harry- takes yer Perseph'ne right off teh hook," he claimed, proudly. "See, I saw her and Professor Snape in The Leaky Cauldron the mornin' you were due back on the train- the mornin' Dumbledore was..." He trailed off, and looked down at his shoes. Hermione gently put a hand on Hagrid's arm, and he sniffed a little, before smiling up at her.

"Yeah. Anyway, I was chattin' ter Tom, the barkeep- and 'e said they'd stayed there teh night- he seemed ter think tha' teh good Professor had got 'imself a fancy lady, if you get my drift. Don't think Snape'd have bin ter impressed if he'd known. They were eatin' breakfast, so I popped over, said hello. Perseph'ne took one look at me and recommended the 'air of the dog- I had ter laugh; told her that I didn't much fancy drinkin' two pitchers o' cider before breakfast. She insisted the best thing fer what ails yer is more of what ails yer. I left ter report ter Dumbledore around then, which was about the time Perseph'ne and Snape started bickerin'. Again. He was chidin' her over her drinkin', I think."

"Typical Snape," Harry muttered under his breath. Hagrid looked at him.

"Give the bloke a break, Harry," he said, kindly. "He's only tryin' ter do what he thinks is right fer his little girl, isn't he? Tryin' ter protect her. Only she isn't so little any more, nor does she need lookin' after. 'Reckon he's havin' a hard time adjustin', tell yer the truth. Tough thing ter deal with at times, family."

"Speaking of family," Ron added, "how's Grawp?"

Hagrid looked furtively around, and settled his gaze on the fireplace.

"He's... he's..." Hagrid paused. "Oh, all righ'- he's gone," he admitted, eventually. Harry was stunned.

"Gone? You mean he's passed on?" he asked, quietly. Hagrid shook his head.

"Nah, I mean gone as in disappeared! Bin lookin' fer weeks now, can't find him anywhere. I must've scoured the Forest at least seven times, turned up no trace o' 'im." Hagrid sighed heavily, and Harry saw a large tear roll down his face and land on his beard with a plop.

"What if he's in trouble? What if he's got attacked and is really 'urt? What if he's lost an' all alone somewhere, waitin' fer me ter find 'im?" he said in a wavering voice. Hermione got up off her chair and patted his arm sympathetically, but the look she gave Ron and Harry conveyed that she was thinking the same thing they were; he was far more likely to have got into trouble by escaping into the wilderness and causing havoc- for it was very difficult to be attacked and hurt by something when you're sixteen feet tall and half-savage.

"I'm sure he'll turn up," she soothed.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure Grawp can take care of himself," Ron added.

Hagrid sniffed.

"Yer right, Hermi'ne, Ron. I'm worryin' over nothin'. He's got a good 'ead on 'is shoulders, has Grawp," he said, and judging by the way he wiped his eyes and sat up in his chair, the thought provided some comfort.

"Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you... Do the Magical Murder Department have any idea who killed Dumbledore?" he asked, tentatively. Hagrid shrugged.

"Don' think so- my evidence jus' ruled out their two prime suspects," he replied, reaching over and grabbing a ladle off the top of his chest of drawers. "If I so much as catch who did it, though..." He gripped the ladle hard between his hands, and it suddenly snapped in two. Hagrid blushed.

"Sorry- didn't mean ter do tha'," he said, on seeing Harry, Ron and Hermione's shocked faces.

"Whoever it was must have been able to get easy access to the school- know some of the passwords, or at least how the school was set out," Hermione mused.

"So it must've bin another member of staff, surely?" Hagrid suggested. Hermione nodded.

"Most likely..."

"It could have been a house elf!" Ron said, triumphantly. The look on Hermione's face could have frozen nitrogen solid.

"Ron! How can you say that?" she hissed. Ron glared back at her.

"What about Kreacher?" he retorted. Hermione looked at the floor and said nothing in reply. Ron folded his arms in triumph.

"That doesn't mean that all house elves are evil," Hermione countered.

"Doesn't mean they're all good, either," Ron replied, albeit less aggressively than before.

Harry stared out of the window, and paid little attention to their spat. He had thought of one possibility, and it was one he desperately hoped wasn't true.

"You okay, Harry?" Hagrid asked, softly. Harry looked up at him.

"What if somebody broke into Hogwarts?" Harry asked. Hagrid laughed.

"Nonsense! The amount of wards and barriers this place 'as got? It's safer than Gringotts, fer Merlin's sake!"

"I suppose," Harry replied, but in all honestly, Hagrid's words did not placate him. He had seen enough during the past six years of his life in the wizarding world to never assume anything is impossible. Before his third year, he would have put money on the fact that nobody could go back in time- then Hermione admitted she'd owned a time-turner to go back a few hours each day to take extra lessons. By the end of his sixth year, he had done something hardly any other wizard had ever done, and gone back in time two decades. Even Kingsley Shacklebolt had said it was impossible. The only thing that seemed certain to Harry nowadays was that Faith Hamilton had the right idea with her inventions- nothing was impossible.

Defence Against the Dark Arts that afternoon did at least take Harry's mind off things. Persephone taught them all about Bunyips. Somehow- Harry didn't really want to know how- she had managed to get hold of some for the class to practise defending themselves against a Bunyip's attack. As Bunyips are nocturnal creatures, Persephone had darkened the entire classroom so that it was practically pitch black, in order to induce them out of sleep. The trick, Harry discovered, was to drop a stone or some such item in the water in which they lived. This tended to draw them out, whereupon a quick Stunning Spell was usually enough to stop them from trying to attack you.

After the lesson, Harry found himself called back by Persephone.

"Harry, could I have a quick word?" she asked. Harry nodded, and waited behind by Persephone's desk until the rest of the class had left.

"What is it?" Harry asked, a little concerned. He had discovered that this year, perhaps more than any other year he had spent at Hogwarts, if a teacher asked him if they could 'have a quick word', it usually led to him discovering something terribly disturbing.

"Don't look so worried," Persephone replied, as she handed over a thick paper scroll. Harry opened it nervously.

Dear Harry Potter,

I have perused your answers, and I think you will make an excellent candidate for training. I would very much like to meet you soon. Persephone says you will be finishing school for the Christmas holidays in a few days, perhaps you will be able to visit then? Persephone will bring you here, and we can get started straight away. Time is always of the essence, after all.

With metta,

Lama Gyaltsen Mende

Harry couldn't believe it. He was surprised that Lama Mende seemed to think he would be sufficiently skilled at learning wandless magic on the basis of a few answered questions.

"Well? What did he say?" Persephone asked, and it was clear from her expression that she hadn't read his scroll beforehand to find out.

"He said he thinks I would make a good candidate for training, and he wants to meet me in the school holidays," Harry replied. Persephone beamed.

"That's fantastic! I knew he'd see your potential!" she exclaimed, happily. Harry tried not to smile, and failed. Persephone noticed.

"I take it you're not so nervous about it now?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"I'm still nervous," he replied, "but I'm looking forward to giving it a go."

Persephone clapped him on the back.

"Good lad," she said, encouragingly. Harry looked down at the scroll again.

"When are we going to visit the Lama, then?" he asked. Persephone frowned.

"Well, whenever you want to, really," she replied. "The sooner the better, though, I say. What about Monday?"

"Monday?" Harry asked, somewhat feebly. Monday just seemed too soon, somehow.

"Yeah- you'll have the weekend to settle at home, then," she replied. Harry noticed she was evasive as to where 'home' might be. He assumed she knew as much as he did on the subject.

"I guess," he said, uncertainly. Persephone gave him a sympathetic look.

"Walk with me, Harry," she said in her best salesman voice, gesturing for him to follow her out of the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom.

"The thing is, Harry," she said as they passed a particularly bored looking portrait, "this kind of training is mentally exhausting. When I was learning, I took my time with it- however, I didn't have a particularly wrathful Dark Wizard prowling around trying to find the best way to kill me. The sooner you start, the sooner you can get used to the effects training will have, the sooner you can overcome such effects, and the better off you'll be. With any luck, by the time spring term starts, you'll be able to continue your practising whilst in pretty much the frame of mind you're in right now."

They reached the Gryffindor common room, and Harry felt no better than when they had left Persephone's classroom.

"Look, Harry, it'll be fine. Trust me," Persephone said, looking him straight in the eye, a gesture that meant more to Harry that it would have done from anyone else, as she was aware of his burgeoning Legilmency and Occlumency skills.

Harry nodded.

"I do trust you," he replied. Persephone smiled a lop-sided smile.

"Liar," she whispered back, "but I think that's probably a good thing- too much trust can lead to danger. Questioning authority is generally a pretty sensible idea- keeps those in such positions on their toes."

She said goodbye and continued down the corridor, presumably to a staff meeting. Harry saw Alex collar her suddenly, at which Persephone held up her hands.

"Alright, alright! I'll do it!" she said to Alex.

"Really? Thanks, Perce..."

"It doesn't mean I'm happy about it- not by a long shot. I think you're both making a terrible mistake..."

They walked further down the corridor and their conversation was lost to Harry. Puzzled, he faced the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Bertie Bott," he announced, and the portrait swung away, allowing Harry access to the common room.

The common room was pretty full, for most of the students had finished packing and were waiting to attend their last meal of the school term. Harry spotted Hermione in a corner near the fireplace, curled up in a chair with a large book on her lap that he recognised as the 'Universal Translator' book she bought in Diagon Alley. She was holding a crystal of some description in her hand, and appeared to be concentrating hard on it.

"Hi, Harry," a voice said. Harry turned round and saw Ginny standing next to him.

"Hi, Ginny- have you seen Ron about?" he asked. Ginny nodded.

"He's upstairs, packing," she announced. "He got an owl about half an hour ago- apparently we're all staying at Grimmauld Place for the Christmas holidays."

Harry nodded.

"I suppose I'd better go and pack, then," he replied. Ginny grinned.

"Might be an idea," she said, before lowering her voice to a whisper. "Ron told me about the wandless magic training- have you heard anything yet?"

"Actually, I have- I'm staring on Monday," he replied. Ginny stared at him with a mixture of awe and envy.

"Wow- that must be so cool!" she enthused. Harry shrugged.

"It sounds a little scary," he replied. Ginny swatted him on the arm.

"Don't be daft," she retorted. "The Order wouldn't want you doing anything that might damage you, would they? Think of the prophecy- you're far too important."

Harry had to admit she was right, and that her words actually made him feel better.

"Thanks, Ginny," he said, glancing over at Hermione.

"Oh, don't go and pester her," Ginny announced before Harry had even uttered a word.

"Why not?" he asked. Ginny smiled.

"She's trying to make a translation stone, I think," she replied.

"A what?"

"Translation stone," Ginny replied, breezily. "Apparently if you perform the right spells on some bit of crystal, you can make a stone that you can place over text like a magnifying glass, and it will show you it in your own language. She was practising a few days ago, and managed to make one that translated French into English. I think the language she's trying to make this crystal translate is a bit trickier."

Harry nodded. Ginny didn't need to explain what Hermione was trying to make a translation stone for- it was clearly to translate the mysterious book she had received from Snape twenty years ago. Well, it was a few months ago, really, but it was twenty years into the past...

"Oh, forget it!" Harry thought to himself. Instead he contented himself in asking, "How is she getting on?"

"Oh, not too badly. It's taken her a month of bedtime reading and a few chats with Persephone to figure out what language that book was in, I think- the fact that Persephone won't let her out of her sight with that book hasn't helped. It's in some sort of Latin; the kind that's a bugger to translate, I'd wager," she replied, gesturing towards a frustrated looking Hermione.

"I'll just go and pack," Harry said quietly, before sneaking off to the boys' dormitory in the hope Hermione wouldn't spot him and try to pick his brain on a subject he knew less about than the average gnat.

"Harry? You need to get packing, mate," Ron announced almost as soon as Harry had entered the dormitory. "Did Ginny tell you where we're staying?"

"Yeah, she did," Harry replied. "Are we going tonight?"

Ron nodded.

"Have you seen Hermione?" he asked.

"Yeah- she's downstairs in the common room, trying to make a translation stone. You know, for her book," Harry replied, carefully. Ron's forehead creased.

"Good luck to her," he replied. "Those things are really difficult- you know they don't even teach us about them in Hogwarts, you'll only learn about them if you get into curse breaking and the like."

"She's managed to make one to translate French to English, though," Harry commented. Ron instantly stopped packing in shock.

"You what? That's insane!" He shook his head. "I don't know why she even worries about exams. If I had just half of her brains, I'd never need to revise again!"

Harry grinned, and began to pack his belongings into his trunk. It could never be said that Hermione was not a smart witch; in fact, she was without a doubt the smartest witch in their year, possibly the entire school. However, Harry had begun to notice that she had been managing to outdo herself quite spectacularly this past term. Modifying O.W.L. standard potions, making translation stones, coming up with unusual applications for transfiguration techniques- Harry was beginning to wonder if the Order would be wise to drop their rule about not letting people still at school be members, for Hermione would be something of an asset if she kept this up. Perhaps, with her now frankly excessive powers of intelligence and reason, she could solve the case of Dumbledore's murder, and put everyone's mind at ease.

"Wishful thinking," Harry thought to himself, before looking up at Ron, who had finished his packing and was now muttering a Banishing Charm to move his trunk down the stairs to the common room.

"Ron?" he asked.

"Hmm?" Ron replied, whilst struggling to control his shut school trunk as it floated down the stairs.

"Do you think someone could have broken into Hogwarts at the beginning of term? I know Hagrid seemed certain it was impossible..."

"Dunno. I mean, Sirius managed it, didn't he? So did Faith... Maybe the Magical Murders Department need to look at anyone who's escaped Azkaban? They seem to have a habit of getting into Hogwarts unnoticed," Ron joked. Harry laughed hollowly. Whatever had happened, Harry was certain it was no laughing matter.

The next Monday, Harry found himself awake at the ridiculous time of four o'clock in the morning, along with Persephone, awaiting transport courtesy of the Brethren of Tyr.

"I think Michael- he's our Head of Transport- had managed to get hold of a little banger for us," Persephone whispered, as they both sat in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place, awaiting the go-ahead from the Brethren to Floo down to the location of their vehicle. Harry looked outside through one of the high windows. It was still pitch black outside, though he could hear the chirping of the dawn chorus from the birds outside.

The candles that provided the only light in the room flickered momentarily, and the sharpness to Persephone's features were briefly highlighted, forcing Harry to spot the similarities between her and Snape. She smiled, and the image was broken.

"You nervous?" she asked, quietly, in an effort not to wake any of the household up. Harry nodded.

"A little," he replied. Truth be told, he was very nervous indeed. He had been talking to Ron, Hermione and Ginny about in the night before, and none of them had been able to ease his apprehension.

"That's understandable- I was when I first went. Don't worry, though- Gyaltsen will make you feel at ease. There's just the matter of customs you ought to adhere to..."

"Customs?" Harry asked.

"Oh, nothing too major. Just remember to bow when you first meet him, speak when you're spoken to, that sort of thing. One other thing, though; if you are offered food or drink, you must decline first, even if you want it," she added.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Politeness. Tibetans are very hospitable, and it is expected that you don't abuse this. Just say something like, 'Thank you, but I couldn't possibly impose'. The person offering you refreshment will then insist you accept it, whereupon you may do so," she explained. Harry felt his forehead crease as he tried to think it through.

"That's bonkers," he replied, eventually. Persephone smiled.

"To us, yes; but you know what they say, 'when in Rome, do as the Romans do'," she said, simply.

Suddenly, a whoosh of green flames interrupted their conversation,

"Percy?" a male voice called.

"Hey up, Mike- what the news on our transport?" she asked.

"It's ready. Floo to The Anchor in Digbeth, meet us in the coach station," he said.

"Sure thing," Persephone replied, as the green flames died away. She then got up out of the chair in which she had been reclining, before stretching her arms above her head.

"Are you ready, Harry?" she asked. Harry nodded.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, as he walked over to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fire.

"The Anchor, Digbeth," he announced, stepping into the flames. The familiar feeling of being sucked into the centre of the universe and spat out in your chosen destination soon came and went, and Harry found himself in an unfamiliar fireplace, in an unfamiliar dark room. He felt something land in his lap, and he almost jumped out of his skin.

"Relax, it's just a cat," Persephone's voice called through the darkness. "It's harmless... Ouch! The little bugger scratched me! I've never liked cats much- vicious little..."

Harry crawled out of the fireplace and stood up, brushing himself down as he tried to adjust his eyes to the gloom.

"Lumos," he whispered, holding his wand aloft. The light that emitted from his wand lit up the room. It looked like a typical old pub, with the obligatory photographs of local sporting heroes and brass crockery adorning the walls.

"Harry! Stop that spell!" Persephone ordered. "The Muggles around here will think we've broken in!"

"Sorry," Harry replied, ending the spell swiftly. He felt a thin cold hand grab his own.

"Just follow me," Persephone instructed, and Harry followed her pull on his arm.

Harry's eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, and as Persephone let go of his hand, he was able to pick out her tall, silhouetted figure clambering onto a nearby chair and fiddling with a lock on the top of one of the sash windows, which she slipped open, and beckoned for Harry to climb through. Feeling like he was some kind of burglar, he did as Persephone instructed, and dropped down onto the pavement. Persephone soon followed, and once she had landed, she muttered some incantation and pointed her right hand at the window. It shut and locked itself.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?" a voice called, angrily. Harry whirled around, and saw a rather irate fat man wielding a baseball bat, similar to the one Dudley owned. Persephone held her hands aloft.

"We got locked in, mate. Sorry- we locked up after ourselves..."

"A likely bleedin' story- the landlord would check the place over before he locked up..."

"I know, I know- we've come in from Devon, and we went to... freshen up in the toilets after our pint. We must have fallen asleep," Persephone lied. Harry nodded, and rubbed his eyes. It was then that he noticed his hands were covered in soot, and he had just spread it across his face. The man looked at them both suspiciously.

"Freshen up in the... Are you two on drugs?" he asked. Persephone looked around furtively.

"Now you're talking," she whispered, reaching into her inside robe pocket. "I've got plenty, if your price is right..."

The man raised his baseball bat.

"Get out of here, the pair of you- we don't want your sort around here!" he bellowed.

"Alright, alright- we're going!" Persephone shouted back, before grabbing Harry's hand and walking down the street. Harry chanced a look over his shoulder, and saw that the man had walked away in the opposite direction.

The coach station was just across the road, and Harry could hear hysterical laughter from the entrance.

"Oh, nice one, Percy- very smooth!" a dark haired man sniggered. Persephone glared at him.

"It worked, didn't it?" she retorted. The man continued to laugh, however.

"This is Mike, by the way. Mike, this is Harry," Persephone said. Mike flicked a lax salute at Harry.

"Alright, mate?" he said, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses. He was probably around Lupin's age, Harry thought, though he wore his hair extremely short, and Harry could see the beginnings of a receding hairline.

"I'm fine, thanks," Harry replied, eyeing the spanner in the top pocket of Mike's work robes. Mike seemed oblivious to his staring though, for he was already standing proudly next to what Harry thought looked like a battered old camper van.

"She's a beaut, isn't she?" Mike said, beaming with pride like a new father. Persephone looked at the camper van not without distaste.

"Erm, Mike- what is this?" she asked. Mike looked affronted.

"Percy- this is possibly the best disguised Transappator you'll ever see. I've made it look like a camper van. Any Muggles who sees it will just think you're on a spiritual trek through the Himalayas."

Harry could see where Mike was coming from- he had replicated the swollen sausage shape characteristic of such vehicles, as well as the hand painted designs on the chassis, the various stickers on the windows proclaiming peace and love, and also denouncing nuclear weapons. He had even got the Volkswagen symbol in the bonnet correct. However, Harry was pretty certain that most camper vans he had seen did not have a space for three spare tyres, nor did they possess four exhausts.

"I trust you, Mike," Persephone replied, hastily, and Mike seemed placated.

"So you should- I know what I'm doing," he replied. Persephone peered into the window of the van.

"How does it work then?" she asked. Mike opened the door.

"Step in, and I'll show you," he replied, gesturing for her to climb into the van. He opened the door on the other side of the van and ushered Harry inside too.

"Basically, it'll work as a normal van- ignition's here." Mike pointed to a metal slot next to the steering wheel. "Just activate it with your wand, or hand, as the case may be. Steering wheel does just that, as do the break and accelerator pedals. The gear stick is just for show, mind. Now, the stereo works as a navigation device- just scroll through the list of places you want to go to with the rewind and fast-forward buttons; press 'Play', and you'll be Apparated right there."

Persephone raised her eyebrows.

"I must say, Mike- you've outdone yourself here," she replied. Mike grinned.

"I do my best- but I want it back!" he warned. Persephone looked somewhat disappointed, and Mike met her gaze with a stern one of his own.

"Persephone," he cautioned.

"You'll get it back- I promise!" she protested. Mike looked across at Harry.

"She has a small habit of pretending to need some vehicles longer than she does," he replied, with a wink. Harry couldn't help but snigger. Mike checked his watch.

"You two had better get going, actually," he said. "The guards are due back in ten minutes- the first coach will arrive in half an hour."

Persephone nodded, before looking across at Harry.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked, slipping on her seat belt. Harry did the same.

"Yep- I'm ready," he replied.

"Good, good," she said, before waving her wand hand over the ignition. The van rumbled into life, and Harry felt the seat vibrate in response. Persephone leaned over the stereo, and held down one of the buttons.

"Hmm... Taiwan, Tel Aviv, Tibet- here we go," she announced, pressing play on the stereo.

The van began to shake violently, and Harry felt his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose. All of a sudden, there was a deafening popping sound, and Harry felt as though he had left his stomach in Digbeth coach station. He looked out of the passenger window next to him, and saw a series of modest, two storey grey buildings, all with flat roofs. They were overshadowed by a number of great mountain peaks, topped with white snow. Further down the road, Harry could see brightly coloured market stalls, with many people milling around them, evidently doing their weekly shopping, or just noseying around.

"Well, that's just dandy- it's got us to Lhasa. We can park up somewhere and Apparate to Gyaltsen's retreat," Persephone explained, as she pressed her foot down on the acceleration pedal and drove off to find somewhere convenient to leave the van.

"It's a fascinating place, Lhasa," Persephone continued. "I must take you here to see it properly some day, when we've got the time. The Potala Palace is amazing. One of very few buildings left from before the Chinese invasion..."

She eventually parked it in the designated car park for the Kirey Hotel, and switched off the engine.

"Right, we're ready," she announced, opening the door next to her and climbing out of the van. Harry did the same, and shut the door.

"How do we lock it?" Harry asked. Persephone waved her hand in dismissal.

"No need- Mike's got an anti-theft hex on it. If anyone tries to break into it, they'll be Apparated straight to Reykjavik," she explained.

"I see," Harry replied. He thought briefly about mentioning to Persephone that the Ministry might not be too pleased if they got any reports of some hapless Muggle car thieves wandering around Iceland in a state of confusion, but decided against it. She was a member of the Brethren of Tyr, after all, and Harry doubted they cared much for the Ministry's rules. They seemed to have their own laws, as well as many ways of getting around those of the Ministry.

Persephone looked around for signs of any Muggles, then took Harry's hand.

"Ready, Harry? We're going to Apparate to Gyaltsen's retreat," she announced. Harry nodded.

"I'm ready," he replied, and they Apparated away with a small pop.

The scene Harry was greeted with just seconds later was a million miles away from the relaxed cityscape of Lhasa. He looked out from the mountaintop on which he was standing and saw nothing but snow capped mountains and lush greenery. Harry thought the sight was beautiful and awe-inspiring. He also thought he was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.

"You okay, Harry?" Persephone asked. Harry shook his head.

"Just rest your hands on your knees and take slow, deep breaths- it takes a little while to acclimatise to the change in altitude. We're over 6000 metres above sea level," she explained. Harry did as he was told, and began to breathe much more easily within a few moments.

Just a few yards away, Harry could see a small brick building with a sloping roof of red tiles that curled up at the edges, rather like a paper-hat that had been dipped briefly in water and exposed to a warm radiator. Paper lanterns hung from the corners of the roof, and two slender columns, made from of what looked like white marble, flanked the entranceway. An awning of red fabric also covered the entranceway, supported by two brass rods that jutted out from the top step.

Persephone took Harry's hand in her own.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to Gyaltsen," she said, walking with him up to the steps of what Harry assumed to be the retreat. A shaven headed figure in red and orange robes stepped out to greet them.

"Welcome, Persephone," he said. Persephone bowed three times, and said something in what sounded to Harry as though it might have been in Cantonese- he had heard her speak it on the odd occasion before now. The man smiled, then raised his hand and looked in Harry's direction.

"And this must be Harry Potter," he announced, as though they were long lost relatives. Harry, remembering Persephone's advice, bowed.

"Hello, sir," he replied. The man smiled, and bent his head slightly.

"Call me Lama Mende, if you wish to use a title," he replied, serenely, "but Gyaltsen is fine- for are we not all sharing the same wheel, with just a name to distinguish us?"

Harry simply smiled and said nothing. Gyaltsen gestured to the doorway with a sweep of his hand.

"Come, learn," he said. Harry looked at Persephone, who had taken her shoes off and stepped under the archway into the retreat. Harry did the same.

As soon as he entered the building, Harry could see where Persephone had got her decorating ideas from. The room was sparse in furniture, save for a small table near the far wall, which had a bowl and two candles sat upon it. The floor was covered with a cream mat that felt squashy beneath Harry's feet. Gyaltsen gestured for them to sit, at which Harry sat down and crossed his legs. He looked across and saw Persephone had done the same, although she had sat away from Gyaltsen and Harry.

"Now then, Harry- you must be hungry after your visit, would you care for some food?" Gyaltsen asked. Harry thought for a moment, and again remembered what Persephone had said.

"Erm, thank you, but I wouldn't want to impose..."

Gyaltsen smiled.

"One who can appreciate the customs of others, appreciates the diversity of our world," he said, before gesturing towards one of the doorways inside the room. Another younger looking man, also with a shaved head, walked forward and laid a tray of what looked like dumplings, two bowls of noodles in soup and a plate of small, round cakes of bread. Harry saw out of the corner of his eye that Persephone was already eating a talking very quietly with the younger man near the edge of the room.

"Please, eat," Gyaltsen insisted. Harry didn't really need any extra encouragement, for he was famished.

"Thank you," he replied, before he began to eat. The chopsticks used to eat the noodles were not as difficult to get used to as Harry had first thought, although he wasn't entirely certain how to go about finishing off the soup. Then, Gyaltsen raised his own bowl to his lips and began to drink out of it; and Harry entertained a brief mental image of what Aunt Petunia would say if he attempted to do that with the leftover milk in his breakfast bowl. Harry did the same.

"So," Gyaltsen asked, as he broke off a chunk of bread, "Persephone tells me you have performed accidental wandless magic quite recently?"

"Yeah, the year before last. My wand lit up without me holding it," Harry replied. Gyaltsen raises his eyebrows, and looked quite impressed.

"I see- your wand, you say? Hmm..." He appeared to have squirreled away that particular piece of information, and Harry wondered exactly what the significance of him having made his wand light up might be.

Soon, they had finished their meal. Gyaltsen got up, and Harry followed. Persephone had clearly finished her repast too, for she had bowed to the young man she had been talking to, and he offered her the same courtesy, before taking their trays and carrying them out of the room. She made her way to where Harry and Gyaltsen were now standing.

"Look, Harry- I'm afraid I can't stay," Persephone said.

"Why?" Harry asked. Persephone grimaced.

"I have an urgent... engagement, and I can't get out of it. I'll be here to pick you up on Sunday, though." She bowed to Gyaltsen. "I am sorry I cannot stay."

Gyaltsen inclined her head towards her.

"I understand. It has been nice to see you, anyway, Persephone. Mette," he said.

"Mette," Persephone replied, before Disapparating away, presumably back to the Transappator.

Soon enough, Gyaltsen began their first lesson. He guided Harry to the table near the far wall, and gestured for him to keel before it, which Harry did. Silently, Gyaltsen took a cloth from the table, soaked it in the bowl of water also on the table, and began to dab at Harry's forehead.

"Close your eyes," he whispered. "Feel the water above all else. Think of nothing but the water on your face. There is nothing else of which to concern you. Free your mind; the rest will follow..."

Harry did as he was told, and concentrated hard on the dripping of the water as it trickled over his face and down his nose. The overwhelming feeling he got was one of his nose itching like mad. Soon, that itching felt like the centre of the entire universe. If he could just reach up and scratch it...

"Think of nothing but the water, Harry- put your hand down," Gyaltsen ordered. Harry reluctantly lowered his hand, but his nose still itched. Soon enough, the water stopped, and Harry could hear the sound of a wet cloth being dropped onto a table.

"Put your hands out in front of you," Gyaltsen instructed. Harry did so, and opened out his palms.

"That's good- keep them still, and concentrate on your fingertips. Feel the blood flow into them, and back out. It is a rhythmic motion; for rhythms are to be found both within our bodies and without. It is rhythms that guide the life cycles of everything around us; if you can tap into such rhythms, you can channel the greatest rhythmic power we possess- our magic."

All of a sudden, Harry felt very silly indeed, sitting cross-legged in this room, his hands held out and his eyes closed.

"You're not concentrating!" Gyaltsen said, calmly, but forcefully. "Stop giving all the tiny fleeting thoughts in your head any attention, and concentrate on the one thing that matters in your whole existence- your fingertips, that flow, that rhythm..."

Harry's arms were beginning to ache.

"Is it supposed to make my arms ache?" Harry asked.

"If you were concentrating on what you ought to be, you wouldn't feel it," Gyaltsen retorted, evenly. Harry tried to clear his mind, but the burning sensation in his forearms wouldn't leave him. It grew stronger every moment Harry kept his arms out on front of him, and soon he was counting the seconds, gritting his teeth in pain. Gyaltsen paid no attention.

"Concentrate on the flow," he repeated.

"I'm trying," Harry said, through gritted teeth.

"Evidently you're not trying hard enough," Gyaltsen replied. Fighting the desire to let his arms flop to the floor, Harry tried again. He thought very hard about his fingertips, and how the blood was pumping its way around to reach them. The throbbing of pulse points in his thumbs began to intensify, and Harry felt his hands stiffen uncomfortably. Still he continued to concentrate hard on his fingertips, and felt the throbbing of the blood flow around them begin to burn painfully. Slowly, but steadily, the burning sensation intensified- Harry took a deep breath and tried to ride out the pain. His arms began to shake, but he ignored it.

"Concentrate on the fingertips; the fingertips are all that matters," Harry chanted to himself, though he felt it did little good, for he was still in a considerable amount of pain.

Then, all of a sudden, the pain subsided in his arms, although Harry could still feel the tips of his fingers were burning as though someone had ripped a layer of skin off and dunked them in iodine solution.

"Open your eyes, Harry," Gyaltsen instructed. When Harry did so, he saw Gyaltsen's face, and he was smiling.

"Look at your hands," he said. Harry looked down, and was stunned by what he saw. His fingertips appeared to be glowing, as though they were being swarmed by fireflies. Gingerly, he moved his right hand across to his left, and the air crackled with the movement.

"Wow!" he breathed, unable to contain his surprise. Gyaltsen looked straight at him.

"That is your magic, Harry," he said, before gesturing towards the table. "Go on- try a spell. Something simple, though. One should not run before he can walk, after all."

Harry took a deep breath, and held his hands next to each other.

"Lumos," he commanded, and to his amazement, a silvery-blue glow emitted from the fingers of his right hand. It coiled in the air and quickly formed a pale blue orb of bright light that hovered obediently above his hand.

"You should be proud, Harry- it takes most people days to get even this far- but there is still much to do," Gyaltsen explained. Harry frowned.

"I sort of hoped so," he replied. "At the moment, if I wanted to use wandless magic intentionally to provide a night light, I'd have to take the morning off!"

Gyaltsen chuckled, and motioned for Harry to rest his arms, which he did so gladly. The glowing that surrounded his fingertips quickly vanished.

"You should not run before you can walk, as Persephone once said to me," he replied. "You shall need to learn how to master your emotions in order to master your magic- this is only the beginning. You need to draw out that power at will, and at speed- this can take months, even years to perfect. You are always learning; remember that, and you will succeed."

"What about using each hand to cast different spells?" Harry asked, eagerly. Gyaltsen again smiled serenely.

"Patience, Harry. That will come with time and practice. It is enough right now that you have managed to draw your own magic to your fingertips without an instrument to guide you. Once you can cast a spell without, as you put it, 'having to take the morning off'- then, and only then, will the separation of magic begin," he replied, tolerantly, before getting to his feet. He urged Harry to do the same.

"What are we going to do now?" Harry asked. Gyaltsen smiled.

"We shall not be doing anything. You, however, shall begin physical training. It is important that the mind, body and soul are kept fit. I trust your schooling takes care of your mind. Persephone mentioned you play Quidditch?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "I'm a Seeker."

"Excellent- it is good that you have experienced some physical endurance- you will need it," Gyaltsen said, and with these words, he conjured what looked to Harry like two cauldrons and a long plank of wood. He handed Harry the plank.

"Here, take this and place it upon your shoulders, and rest your arms upon it," he instructed. Harry felt himself groan under the weight- how Gyaltsen, who was shorter than Harry and definitely no spring chicken, had managed to lift it with ease without the use of magic, Harry could not fathom. Gyaltsen then placed one of the cauldron handles in Harry's left hand, and the other in his right, leaving Harry resembling a particularly weedy looking milkmaid.

"Now," Gyaltsen instructed, "I am going to fill each of these cauldrons steadily with water, and you are going to hold them for as long as I say. This will test your Inner Strength, perhaps more than your outer strength- for only the truly strong can overcome the barriers their mind puts up in order to tap into their true physical capabilities."

Harry couldn't believe it. He could hardly hold the weight of the cauldrons as it stood, and they were empty! Gyaltsen must be either superhuman, or a basket case if he thought this possible of Harry. Then again, as Harry watched Gyaltsen raise both his hands above each cauldron and conjure rushing water from his fingertips to fill them, it wasn't as though Harry was going to get out of it if he pointed either of his hypotheses out. His shoulders began to groan under the weight. A whole week of this regime? Harry wasn't sure how he could cope! Then he remembered the old adage.

"What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger," he thought to himself, and he smiled. It had only been half a day, and he did feel a certain amount of strength flood through his body.

"Now, Harry," Gyaltsen said, and Harry's thoughts suddenly snapped back to the here and now. "Shall we try for five minutes, just as a starting point?"

Harry nodded, closed his eyes, and trusted his Inner Strength.