The Awakening of a Magus

The Awakening of a Magus
Chapter 53 - Thu, Aug 10 - Day 21

Battles, Mock & Real

Joining Snape in the Great Hall moments before the session was to start, Tonks had a dreamy smile on her face as she intricately twirled her wand around her fingers. Ron and Hermione didn't quite understand at first the teasing Draco was giving his cousin, since they hadn't been present to witness her kissing Harry the night before. Snape, however, understood perfectly, and enjoyed seeing the young Auror give as good as she got from the young Slytherin Apprentice.

"Come now, cousin, you're looking so ... satisfied. How far did it go this time?" taunted Draco, fairly sure that Harry wasn't rushing things, but knowing his cousin had quite a few years experience as an advantage.

"Cliché as it sounds, that's for me to know and for you to find out ... maybe," she answered with a smirk. "Neither of us is one to kiss and tell, so keep your Slytherin mind out of the gutter, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked to Snape for support, but realized quickly he wasn't going to get it. /- From what I can sense, no further than first stage, I'd guess. A quite -solid- first stage, but no further, though whether that was due to self-control or lack of time, who knows? -/ Snape commented slyly. Both Slytherins were grinning mischievous grins that the vast majority of those present would have never imagined. Malicious grins, yes, but mischievous? The world was coming to an end! /- You do realize, Draco, that both of them will respond in-kind when similar opportunities present themselves regarding any relationships we might engage in some day. -/

Thinking about Harry and Tonks getting on his case if he started going out with ... never mind ... well, Draco decided that maybe he should ease up ... just a bit.

Looking out at the crowd, which consisted of about half the Hogwarts contingent of the student body, plus a handful of transfer students who accompanied new staff members, Snape decided to begin. "The majority of you know who I am, but as my responsibilities have changed this year, I will begin as though you were all part of the visiting contingents, rather than the host contingent. I am Professor Severus Snape, formerly the Potions instructor, currently Chair of the Department for Defense Against the Dark Arts and Physical Training. Professor Amelia Crafter is the Assistant Chair of this department in addition to her duties as Potions professor. She is addressing the other half of the current student body in the gymnasium training area. When your session here is complete, this group and that one will change places to receive the rest of your orientation. Have I lost anyone yet?" Snape's voice varied from bored to sarcastic, and he finished by meeting the eyes of a 7^th year transfer ... a bored-looking Spaniard with the look of a spoiled aristocrat about him. "Mr. de la Vega, am I boring you?"

The handsome young man straightened in a huff. "Señor, I am the conté Inigo Amadeo Montoya de la Vega and am entitled to ..."

"Mister de la Vega," Snape interrupted with a steely voice and began to lecture with an icy tone that had the younger years shivering and thanking whatever deities they believed in that they were not the objects of Snape's attentions. "In this school there are many, both students and staff, with far loftier titles and far more powerful heritage than you can lay claim to. All students in this school are addressed the same: as a male, your form of address is Mr. de la Vega, or simply de le Vega; if you were a female, instead of Mr. you would be Miss or Ms. The only exception to that rule occurs when two students mutually consent to address each other by their given names. All those on the staff who teach will be addressed as Professor, unless individual headmasters or headmistresses indicate otherwise, such as Madame Maxime. Those on the staff who do not teach will be addressed as Mr. or Madam." He paused to reign in his temper and the magical aura that had begun to show due to his irritation.

"Professor Crafter will be showing you the gymnasium and training areas, providing demonstrations of the equipment available there. In this session you will be shown several demonstrations of physical training courses available, either as a formal class or as part of an approved student organization. I, in particular, am a Blademaster, with ranking in rapier, short sword, saber, single and twin daggers, and dagger with saber or rapier. My apprentice and student assistant is Draco Malfoy," indicating the young man, who touched the flat of his saber to his forehead in salute, executing a short bow. "Depending on the experience and skill levels I observe among you and the visiting contingents over the next week, we will devise a variety of training opportunities. Some form of physical training, aimed at increasing strength, stamina, and agility will be required of all students." Noting that de la Vega was sniggering with several 6^th and 7^th year Slytherins ... Snape sincerely wished the arrogant aristocrat had been sorted into another house ... he addressed his next comments, "I am told by Headmaster de la Vega that you have some skill with the blade. Perhaps you would care to participate in a short demonstration, Mr. de la Vega?"

Smirking at his new classmates, Inigo drew the saber he had worn to the session, lazily performing the salute that Draco had executed with crisp precision, then advanced to the slightly-raised platform on which Snape stood. "As you wish, Professor. On your word," he answered with arrogance.

"Oh no, Mr. de la Vega. You have not proven yourself worthy to cross swords with a Master other than your own," Snape replied. "You will face Mr. Malfoy." Draco was already approaching the dais, again executing a precise and respectful salute to the Blademaster. "This is a demonstration for the many novices present, gentlemen, not a competition. On my count ... salute ... three, two, one ... engage!"

Draco began slowly, with typical testing moves, watching his opponent carefully. The Spaniard was good, he admitted, but Draco believed he was better, even before his first-stage awakening had improved his strength and reflexes. He would have to be cautious until he was certain how his new capabilities would affect his performance. Advance ... retreat ... attack ... defend ... feint ... strike. They were well matched for exhibition purposes, even if the 7^th year was taller by a few inches. While keeping his attention on the dance they danced around each other, Draco speculated about what a competitive match would be like. Then he found out, as de la Vega changed the mood of the bout, becoming more aggressive and suddenly scoring a touch ... leaving a long, shallow scratch on Draco's arm. A number of students murmured in protest. Draco stepped back. Without taking his eyes off his opponent, he addressed Snape, "By your leave, Master Severus?"

With suppressed anger in his voice, Snape in turn asked, "By your leave, Master Felipe?" Few had noticed the arrival of Headmaster de la Vega, Inigo's father and Blademaster. The young Spaniard stepped back in shock, waiting to hear his father's response.

"Permission to compete granted with your approval, Master Severus," responded the elder de la Vega, less than happy at the behavior of his son and apprentice. He raised his wand, prepared to cast the charms needed to avoid injury during competition, yet mark the potential injuries for scoring purposes.

"Permission to compete granted, Apprentices," finished Snape. Each Blademaster then cast the necessary charms on the weapons of their respective apprentices, then said in unison. "On the count ... salute ... three, two, one ... engage!"

This time, Draco held little back. He fought aggressively, catching his opponent off-guard, focusing on every signal. Just after Draco scored a second 'injury' on his opponent (leaving a red mark ... light scratches left green marks and fatal injuries a black mark), the 7^th year stepped back to catch his breath. He surreptitiously touched a wristband he wore, and muttered something under his breath. He seemed suspiciously revitalized, so Draco spared a moment to focus his Scanner senses on his opponent. Feeling a sense of outrage, he reported to Snape, /- The prat is cheating, Severus. He's wearing a restorative talisman, and just invoked it. Do I call him on it, or should we let his Blademaster at him? I have a feeling Master Felipe wouldn't approve. -/

Glancing at the elder de la Vega, Snape agreed with Draco's evaluation, but answered, /- You may proceed as you deem appropriate, Apprentice. -/

Much as Draco would love to humiliate his opponent, he knew it wouldn't be honorable, by the Blademasters' code. Such matters should be dealt with in private. Instead, he decided he would instead use every advantage he had, and end this quickly. He suddenly became a whirlwind, and in less than a minute had scored two more red marks and finally a black ... while he himself bore only two green and one small red mark. By scoring a black mark, the bout was finished. Draco stepped back, carefully beginning to lower his saber, but alert for any surprises. Inigo was furious and humiliated, and was on the verge of attacking again when his Master's voice thundered in the Great Hall.

"Stand down, Apprentice." There was no mistaking the fury in the elder Spaniard's voice. He stalked over to his apprentice, then began to quietly berate him in Spanish. Fortunately for the younger, no one within hearing distance understood Spanish, though his brightly flushed face gave some indication as to the nature of the speech. He sheathed his saber and slunk to the back of the crowd, ignoring Draco and Snape.

Utilizing the Hogwarts staff mindlink, the elder de la Vega addressed Snape, knowing that Draco, as a student assistant, could hear as well, /- Master Severus, I ask your pardon for the actions of my apprentice. You and your apprentice have my gratitude for your discretion regarding his dishonorable behavior. Be assured he will be suitably punished. His mother and both sets of grandparents excessively feed the boy's ego. It is my hope that his time here, away from their influence, will have a beneficial effect. Again, my thanks gentlemen. -/ After a moment, he seemed to address Snape again, who agreed to something after a moment, though indicating the other man should wait a moment.

"Apprentice," Snape commanded. Draco, came forward, dropped to one knee, then presented his sword across his two outstretched hands. "You have shown skill, honor, restraint when called for, and a fierce competitiveness when permitted. You have earned an advance in apprentice rank in this weapon." Snape took hold of Draco's sword, tapping him lightly on the top of his head. "Apprentice, rise now as a third ranked apprentice in saber, along with your existing second ranking in rapier and short sword, and your first ranking in daggers. Well done!" This designation caused Inigo to swallow. He was as yet unranked in daggers, first ranked in rapier and short-sword, and just recently achieved second rank in saber. He had disastrously underestimated his younger opponent. He would get an even worse shock as he saw his father approach Snape.

"Master Severus," the elder said, deferentially.

"Master Felipe," acknowledged Snape.

"May I have the honor of crossing blades, Master Severus? A quick exhibition bout with your choice of weapons?" Inigo had never seen his father, a fourth-ranked Master, defer to anyone. Could this mean that this ... person ... was a higher-ranked Master than his father?

"Agreed, though you may choose weapons. You are aware of my areas of expertise," answered Snape.

Draco had returned to stand on the edge of the crowd, near Ron and Hermione. "Oh, this is going to be great. Severus rarely has any kind of challenge any more. It's hard to find a good bout when you're fifth or sixth rank in all your chosen weapons."

Hermione, aware of the structure and traditions from her studies, was shocked to stuttering. "Fifth and sixth rank Master in so many areas?" she squeaked. "I never would have guessed. Do you know Master Felipe's ranking?"

"Fourth in the same areas, though I hear he just made fourth in twin daggers." Draco looked at the subdued 7^th year and smirked. "And that prat thought he was good enough to face a Blademaster. Ah, it looks like they've chosen rapier and dagger. That should be fun to watch."

As impressively as Draco had performed, highly ranked Blademasters in exhibition were a sight to see, far beyond what any apprentice could accomplish. The students began to realize just how Snape was able to so easily catch curfew violators ... he was incredibly graceful, agile, and utterly silent except for the sound of blades colliding. Spinning and dodging at blurred speeds, both Masters displayed their remarkable expertise for several long minutes. Eventually, Snape disarmed de la Vega, first the dagger, then the rapier, flipping his opponent's weapon high in the air. He tossed his own rapier over to his dagger-hand, and caught de la Vega's weapon to a rousing ovation and a nod of concession from his opponent.

"That, students, is but a small demonstration of the capabilities of moderate to high ranked Blademasters," said de la Vega. "Obviously, it takes many years to reach such expertise, and most who attempt Mastery fall short. Discipline is a vital part of Mastery," he said, flashing a pointed look at his son.

Snape continued, "Though most of you will not attain ranking, the exercise and discipline will be critical to your survival, both now and after the war. Now, we will move on to unarmed combat. Who among you has training in some form of unarmed combat? Raise your hands if you've had any such lessons. For now, we'll exclude simple sibling confrontations." The four Weasleys present looked at each other, laughing, swatting at each other for a moment. Snape saw that, throughout the group of well over one hundred, less than a dozen raised their hands, some, like Hermione, very tentative. "Granger, what discipline and what rank or how much experience?"

"Sir, I attended a class in generalized self-defense, two-hour sessions, ten sessions last summer," she answered quietly. "I believe the majority of the lessons were Judo or very similar."

"Any others with Judo background?" Orla Quirke, the 2^nd year Ravenclaw and Justin Finch-Fletchley answered, the girl having a mid-level belt rank, and the 5^th year Hufflepuff with a beginner's rank. Seeing the Creevey brothers, Snape asked their discipline. Both boys were green belts in Tae Kwon Do. A few others named lower-ranked Karate, boxing, or wrestling experience. Considering the options, Snape called the Creevey brothers up for a short sparring demonstration. The boys bowed to Snape as the ranking person present, then bowed to each other. Before they could begin, Snape suddenly had a faraway look in his eyes, then snapped, "Hold." His eyes met Ron Weasley's and nodded.

Dumbledore's voice echoed throughout the school. "All students report immediately to the Great Hall. All students report immediately to the Great Hall in a calm and orderly fashion."

"Hey, Harry, hurry up. We're ready to start," called Rachel in the direction of the boys' locker room.

Harry had needed a moment to compose himself. The last thing he needed was to allow over a hundred students see him with a flushed face and a silly grin. Now I understand why some guys get so obsessed with snogging, he thought happily to himself. Luckily, Tonks was more than willing to let him set a fairly slow (but still wonderful) pace.

As Harry came out of the locker room wearing loose sweats, he heard some disappointed murmurs from some of the girls, and even a few guys. Rachel was wearing a fitted t-shirt and shorts, the other style training uniform.

"Now that we're all present, welcome. I'm Professor Amelia Crafter. Assisting today are my niece, Rachel Dragonrider and the headmaster's apprentice, Harry Potter. And, before you ask, yes, Rachel and I are from America, from Salem Massachusetts. I am Assistant Chair of the Department for Defense Against the Dark Arts and Physical Training. Some form of Physical Training will be required of all students this year. This area houses the exercise equipment, locker rooms and showers, and uniform dispensary."

As Amelia continued with an overview of the facilities, Harry looked around at the students, then commented mentally to Rachel, /- Bloody hell, that one over there is -big-! -/ He nodded towards a very tall, very muscular blonde in the back. /- I think his -muscles- have muscles. -/

/- Oh, that's Douglas Mason, a 7^th year Ravenclaw from Esses. -/ At Harry's puzzled look, she elaborated. /- Esses? S. S. S.? Saskatchewan School for Spellcasters. Sheesh! Even in mindspeech, that's a mouthful. Any-hoo, you're looking at 6-foot-6 of professional wrestler and body-builder when he isn't being a disgustingly capable wizard. On the Indy wrestling circuit, he goes by the name Chip Mason. He and his mom arrived late yesterday evening. She's the Esses' mediwitch and a certified Master Healer. Ron added them to the linkage last night. Doug's been tagged for student assistant duties. -/

Harry caught the wrestler's eye as he leaned against the wall, listening to Amelia's spiel. The big blonde responded with a small but friendly grin and a nod. /- He -seems- friendly enough, which is more than I can say about the last body builder I met. -/

Rachel smiled, /- Oh, underneath all those huge muscles, Doug can be a real sweetie, and surprisingly intelligent. He's just dangerous when he needs to be. -/ Flashing a hard look at Harry she finished with, /- Not unlike someone -else- I know. -/

"Mr. Mason," Amelia was saying. "Since we have quite a large group here, and you obviously have extensive gym experience," quite a bit of laughter and female sighs answered that comment, "I'd like you to assist as well." Doug nodded and made his way to the front. "Since my other assistants are already in uniform, I'd like you to demonstrate the uniform dispenser. As he works his way through the crowd, I'll point out the devices at this wall over here. There are two here, plus one each in the locker areas. Inspired by Mundane ... Muggle technology, both actual and fictional, Darius and I designed this magical artifact to provide uniforms for everyone. You have some choices, which you can see on Mr. Potter and Miss Dragonrider, and which Mr. Mason will describe as he goes along."

As Doug Mason stepped up to the wall, a large Hogwarts seal on the floor lit up, as well as several picture panels and tiles on the wall. Pulling out his wand, he stepped up onto the seal. Amelia commented, "The first step is identification and measurement. This is recorded partly for the uniforms, and partly as an ongoing record of your progress. These are both physical and magical recordings of you and your wand. Uniforms are produced in your House colors, with the exception of apprentices and staff members without a House affiliation. As Mr. Potter's uniform shows, those colors are black and silver-gray."

Touching his wand to a tile on the wall marked 'Start', he said, "Douglas Mason, Ravenclaw," whereupon a column of light rose from the floor, momentarily hiding him from view. As the light faded, he stepped off the seal to the right, beginning his selections. "Everyone is entitled to one pair of trainers, one wand holster, leg-mounted, up to four pairs of socks, four tops and four bottoms. I'll get the holster first," he said, tapping his wand on a panel showing a picture of a wand holster, then tapping a tile showing the word 'Dispense'. The device had a recessed area, about a half-yard cubed. A glittering light filled the area for a moment. When it faded, a perfectly-sized leg-mount wand holster appeared.

"Crikey! It's like a ruddy replicator from Star Trek!" commented one of the Muggleborns.

Amelia laughed. "I did say both real and fictional technology, didn't I? Proceed, please, Mr. Mason."

"On socks and shoes, I have a choice of dark with light markings, or light with dark markings. Tap the picture, then tap the word 'Light' or 'Dark', then 'Dispense'." As he spoke, he chose a dark pair of shoes. "If you try to get more than your quota, a bell will ring." He demonstrated by trying to get a second pair of shoes. "If you change your mind on the color, or start to grow out of them, you can exchange them, though." So saying, he placed the dark shoes back in the recess, tapped a tile that said 'Return', which caused the shoes to disappear, then chose a light pair of trainers, which dutifully appeared. "On the tops and bottoms, you have the same 'Light'/'Dark' choices, you can mix and match the styles, plus you can choose the fit: loose or fitted. Harry went for loose sweats, Rachel has fitted shirt-n-shorts. You can get a bag to carry everything from here," he said, tapping on 'Package', "and when you're finished, tap this last tile, 'Done' to clear your id from the system."

"Thank you, Mr. Mason. Now, if the boys would follow Misters Potter and Mason to the left, and the girls would follow me and Miss Dragonrider to the right, we will show you how to deal with the lockers." The locker area had 150 lockers on each side, and were day-use lockers only. A person 'claimed' a locker by tapping an unoccupied locker with his/her wand (a white panel on the front). Once claimed, the panel turned black and showed the person's name in white letters. The lockers were wizardspaced, meaning they were larger inside than outside. Anyone who tried to keep their locker overnight would find it cleaned out by the house-elves, and their belongings sent to the laundry. The first offense would bring a warning; second and third offenses would lose house points; any further offenses would lose points and earn a detention. There was one addition to the uniform dispensers in the locker rooms: they also produced bath towels and wash cloths, which were dumped in a nearby chute after use.

As everyone headed back out to see how the equipment worked, several of the smaller students seemed dismayed. A stocky middle-year student was laughing at them, showing off how strong he was by grabbing some moderately heavy bar bells. "Waste of time for you shrimps to be here," he sneered. "You're no competition at all."

Amelia overheard this and raised her voice to be heard throughout the room. "These physical training courses are meant to help everyone, no matter what their current condition, skill-level, or potential. You will be graded, not in comparison to others, but on the effort you make and the progress you personally achieve. An underweight first-year who works hard can achieve much better grades than a fairly strong and fit, but undisciplined student." She glared at the show-off whose jaw had dropped in shock. "There will be opportunities for competition, but they are optional, have no effect on your grade, and will be held outside of class time. No one is to harass or belittle another student for any reason."

Groups of students were scattered around the room as Harry, Doug, Rachel and Amelia demonstrated various pieces of equipment, from beginning through advanced. "Oh, by the way," commented Amelia. "Magic is not to be used on this equipment. Some of the technology-based features have been carefully charmed to work here at Hogwarts. Under no circumstance is magic to be used to make your workout easier. In fact, the only person allowed to charm the equipment is Darius. Since he has exceeded the capacity of even our heavy-weight equipment, he needs to charm the equipment to increase the weight and resistance." Looking at the expert-level equipment at the end of the room, several of the students exchanged looks of shock.

Doug glanced at Harry and Rachel, then haltingly tried the mindspeech link. /- Increasing the weight on the heavy equipment? -/ Rachel nodded enthusiastically, while Harry shrugged and nodded, sending, /-That's what I heard, anyway. -/

Doug rubbed his hands together with a grin. /- Ah, finally someone who'll be a challenge! -/ Then he looked over at Harry with a considering look. Tilting his head in question, he asked Harry, /- Interested in a bit of a friendly match up later? -/ Slowly, Harry began to grin, and he nodded slightly in return, sending /- You're on. I'll let you know when I can get away. -/ Several students noticed the exchange of looks, and guessed what might be going on. They huddled together, making bets on the two, some commenting that they hoped Harry would lose the sweats, and that both would wear something nice and revealing if the two were going to have a match up of some kind.

Amelia was just about to concede to the mood of the students, and have both Harry and Doug work through a set on the 'Big Guy', when everyone was startled to hear the headmaster's voice coming out of thin air.

"All students report immediately to the Great Hall. All students report immediately to the Great Hall in a calm and orderly fashion."

All Hogwarts staff, student assistants, prefects and Head students heard Ron's mindspeech relay as Dumbledore's voice faded. /- Attention please. Team A is to report immediately to Hogsmeade. The town is under attack. Initial estimates describe at least 200 Dementors and approximately 30 Death Eaters. There are confirmed casualties. Repeat, Team A report immediately to Hogsmeade. Medical support from Team B should report to the Hospital Wing. The rest of Team B plus student leaders are to ensure that all students are present in the Great Hall or accounted for. Students should be seated by House, first years nearest the head tables. Report any missing students over this link. -/

Up in the gym, Harry had disappeared. Doug looked at Rachel in surprise. She sent /- Harry is on Team A, the only student who is. Everyone on Team A has to have a strong Patronus. Harry's been able to produce a corporeal Patronus since he was 13, stronger than most adults from what I hear. Those who are in the Magus Circle, and a few others can Apparate around the Hogwarts wards. Everyone else on the team will be heading out to the gathering point to Apparate to town. -/

Amelia was gesturing for Rachel and Doug and the prefects to position themselves throughout the group of students, keeping the nervous ones calm, but moving them along quickly. It was only a matter of time, I suppose, she thought. Only a matter of time.

The huge doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry slammed shut, their ponderous locks shifting into place. All secret passageways that passed through the wards were blocked.

Those members of Team A who could not Apparate on the school grounds were surprised as they congregated at the castle entrance, wondering how they were supposed to leave. "Is everyone ready?" said Snape in a crisp voice as he strode into the entrance hall. There were 17 people waiting to leave. As Snape reached out with his powers to prepare for transport, he was surprised to realize that he would be able to take the whole group in one trip. "I will be taking you to the gathering point. You received your instructions earlier on deployment. Remember the mindspeech link if you need to communicate with members of your team, especially the medical team or those here at the castle. Stand quietly a moment now. On my mark: three, two, one, now."

The entrance was empty for a few moments, but Snape wasted no time at the gathering point, listening to his amazed colleagues. He reappeared, striding quickly back to the Great Hall, when he heard one of the Slytherin prefects on the mindspeech link. /- Reporting, -/ the student sent, waiting for an acknowledgement.

Snape answered, /- Report, Mr. Zabini. -/

/- We're missing four 7^th years and two 6^th years. Millie thinks she saw them heading for the dorms. -/ he answered.

/- I'll check it out, -/ cut in Draco. Snape sent a wordless confirmation, so Draco Apparated to a dark corner of the Slytherin common room. The missing students were getting dressed in black robes and white masks, preparing to do their part from within during the attack. They're acting like it's some wonderful game, the idiots. Draco sent Snape a quick message describing the situation.

Unknown to the six junior Death Eaters, their Head of House was now standing invisibly on the opposite side of their common room from the still-hidden Draco. That was about to change.

Draco quietly invoked a strong shield charm, then stepped out of the shadows. "I'm crushed. You didn't tell me there was a costume party." As he expected, several curses came his way. Even with his shield up, he dodged to avoid the attack.

From the other side of the room, Snape quickly used Expelliarmus several times to disarm the students, catching all six wands in succession and tucking them into his robe pocket. Releasing his invisibility spell, he strode slowly towards his errant students. "My, my, my, I am disappointed. That was even easier than disarming Lockhart," he drawled, giving them what he considered a grievous insult to a Slytherin. "Did you really believe that my apprentice would be so foolish as to confront you without backup?" He gestured with his wand, indicating that they should sit, while Draco herded them from the other direction. "You are pathetically obvious, you realize. You would have been of much more use to your Dark Lord if you had stayed unobtrusively with your classmates and betrayed them surreptitiously, or turned on them at a critical moment. In this context, dressing up as Death Eaters when you are outnumbered over 50 to one is not the most Slytherin thing to do. You are, as Mr. Malfoy indicated, merely indulging in a costume party."

"You're just a traitor, a traitor to the Dark Lord," spat one of the 7^th years, Veronica Crabtree. "His power is beyond anything you can imagine, and you will all fall before him. As his servants, we will be well rewarded."

"Rewarded? By Voldemort?" Draco began to laugh, becoming almost hysterical as the other students flinched at 'the name'. "Rewards are few and far between, unless you consider recurring Crucio curses and having your powers drained 'a reward'. He'll use you, then discard you like a dirty hankie."

"I must say," Snape drawled, "if you are typical of that half-blood's recruiting efforts, the incident in Hogsmeade will be dealt with very shortly. I will remind you that quite a number of your master's top targets are alive and well, just in this castle: the headmaster, myself, Darius, Draco, oh, yes, and Harry Potter."

"How dare you insult our master! Half-blood indeed!" screeched Veronica.

"Indeed! He is a half-blood. Though his mother was a witch of Slytherin's blood, is father was a Muggle, a quite intolerant Muggle that abandoned his son before birth when he learned of his wife's magical heritage. He doesn't hate Muggles because he's a pureblood; he hates Muggles because his father was one, and he was raised in a Muggle orphanage. That is your great pureblood idol ... a half-Muggle named Tom Marvolo Riddle." Snape's silky voice cut through the atmosphere like a knife. Ignoring their speechless shock, he continued dismissively, "We have other matters to deal with, Draco. For now, we will confine our prisoners right here. You will find, ladies and gentlemen, that you are unable to leave the common room, except for the nearest sanitary facilities. I have your wands and you will be guarded until matters allow the headmaster and a Ministry representative to deal with you. You are exceedingly fortunate you are not yet marked, or you might find yourself being executed by your master for being so foolish as to be caught so quickly. Dobby?"

The house-elf appeared quickly. "Yes, Professor Snape, sir, Master Draco, sir. What can Dobby do for you?"

"These students are to be considered prisoners. I believe you can see the warding I have just set up in this area?" Snape asked. The students stared, not realizing that the professor had already warded the area wandlessly. "No one is to enter this area unless one of the Magus Circle brings other fools here for temporary confinement. They are not to communicate with anyone outside this room. Only members of the Magus Circle may communicate with them until further notice. Oh, and they are not permitted to cause harm to themselves or each other." Snape suddenly pointed his wand at the Slytherins, saying, "Accio portkeys!" but he stopped the objects that flew out of several pockets before they could touch anyone, leaving them hovering mid-air. With a glare at the offending articles, he surrounded the objects with a shield, conjured a box, then packed them away. "It will be interesting to analyze the destinations on these," he murmured to the horror of the junior Death Eaters. Returning his attention to the house-elf, he finished, "Do you have any questions?"

"Dobby understands, Professor Snape, sir," the elf said with a scowl in the direction of the errant students. House-elf magic crackled for a moment around him as a warning to the demoralized prisoners. "These will not cause more trouble, Professor Snape, sir. Dobby will see to it."

Sensing a presence behind him, Draco asked, "Baron, are you interested in standing guard as well, sir?" At this question, the Bloody Baron, House Ghost of Slytherin, became visible, grinning his rather macabre grin. He nodded at Draco, but addressed Snape. All those present were shocked at what followed.

"My Lord, may I be of assistance," he hissed in Parseltongue. The spirit's ability to use that language had been known to only a handful over that last several centuries, not to mention that he rarely spoke at all to the living. The even greater surprise, besides the actual form of address from a Baron to a Professor was the fact that both Snape and Draco understood what the ghost said. "Ah, I have surprised you, my Lords," he continued, glancing at Draco, then back to Snape. "In life, I was Klaatu-mehr. It is only appropriate that I pledge my service to a Klaatu-shah, even in the afterlife, and I certainly have no wish to do so to the eldest of the Serpent's Children now living. I, Baron Ash Thorne do pledge to you, Lord Severus of Klaatu's line," the ghost bowed to Snape, an unheard-of behavior for the Bloody Baron. Even though the young Death Eaters couldn't understand the conversation, they recognized Parseltongue and were stunned by the bow.

Fighting for composure, and focusing on the mental image of a snake, Snape answered, assuming that if he could understand the language, he would be able to speak it. "Baron Thorne, I accept your pledge and thank you for your support. May I request that your pledge extend as well to Draco Malfoy, as Klaatu-shah and my heir?"

Draco was now doubly shocked. I should have realized that Severus considered me his heir, since he's both my guardian and training Master, but ... Suppressing his shock, to preserve his dignity, he met the eyes of the spirit who now focused on him. They repeated the pledges just made, with the addition that the Baron's loyalty to Draco would be second only to his loyalty to Snape. It was the strangest sensation to speak Parseltongue, and a satisfying sensation to realize the other students were extremely upset at this development.

Switching back to English, the Baron said, "I was listening as you instructed the elf. Between us, these and any other prisoners will be secure, you have my word, my Lord."

Draco's curiosity was strong just then, so he asked, again in Parseltongue, "May I ask, Baron, was the last Baron Thorne your descendent?"

"Not directly, no. Juniper was my first cousin, many times removed. I had no direct heir, so another line of Thornes bore the title after me. I believe my link to the Serpent is by my mother's line, not the Thornes, which is likely why Harry Potter is not at least Klaatu-mehr."

At that moment, both Draco and Severus went slightly blank, then refocused. "We are needed elsewhere, Baron," said Snape. With a quick nod of farewell, Draco and Severus disappeared.

"Now, children, I want you out of those ridiculous costumes ... now, but not into your school robes," demanded the Slytherin House Ghost. "You don't deserve them!"

Harry's first stop was just outside the Shrieking Shack. He wanted to check the situation before he proceeded into town after the others. He wasn't afraid, really, but he was very concerned.

One issue, of course, was the very large number of Dementors. He had always had an unusually strong reaction to those creatures. He wasn't sure if his Magus powers would offer more protection, or if his far greater sensitivity would make him more susceptible. And, he wanted to check once more that he could produce a mostly-normal Patronus. "Expecto Patronum," he said quietly, focusing carefully on his last encounter with a Boggart-Dementor. His magic flowed around his wand, producing the usual misty silver stag ... to his relief.

An even greater concern, however, was the reactions he'd experienced when around death since his Awakening. Just being in the presence of death would cause a strange discomfort. The moment that the bond between body and soul was severed, the effect was like a broken guitar string, discordant, twanging, echoing through his own mind, body, and soul. He had been shocked at the sensations when he had appeared at the Ministry just as Wormtail and Avery had crossed that border between life and death. Even the longer-deceased Stump had been causing psychic 'ripples' that disturbed him to a lesser extent. It was unsettling and uncomfortable, but something he believed he could learn to ignore.

The effects were greater the two times that his magic was involved in the cause of death ... when his Magus shield reflected the Killing Curse back to Quigley and Macnair. Those deaths produced a ripping pain and what felt like a dark blot on his soul. It almost seemed as though a touch of the evil that filled Voldemort was able to approach him, trying to take hold. It made him wonder about the nature of the connection formed by the old curse scar, and perhaps also the use of his blood in Voldemort's resurrection rite. At his more tired moments, he feared that over time the darkness could corrupt him ... that thought terrified him. He was convinced that the touch of darkness would be stronger if he ever directly killed anyone, at least while his link with Voldemort's corruption existed. Over time, he might become what he most hated and fought against.

So, he had spent many of his long, not-quite-sleepless nights modifying his shields so that they no longer rebounded or deflected attacks ... something that could be dangerous to innocent bystanders. His shields now diffused and absorbed the magical energies directed at him. He had also trained several sessions with Dumbledore on using simpler, non-damaging spells, like Stupefy. With his power levels, a stunning spell would knock out a person for at least an hour, and even Dumbledore couldn't reverse the effect until more than half an hour after it was cast, though Harry could reverse it at any time. At least his opponents wouldn't be revived by colleagues and back in the fight moments later, as could happen with an ordinary stunner.

Bracing himself for his first battle as a Magus, he opened his senses, searching for the place he could do the most good. Just then, over the mindspeech link he heard, /- Requesting medic. Requesting backup. Noncombatants at risk. -/

/- Responding on backup and interim medic, Filius, -/ Harry sent back. He focused on the half-goblin, Disillusioned himself, then Apparated, ducked down behind some rubble, then appeared with a whisper. "Show me, Professor," he asked, preparing to receive a mental briefing.

Filius Flitwick did not look good. His right arm hung uselessly at his side, and he held his wand in his left with much less assurance than he would have normally. He closed his eyes a moment, leaning against the barrier they were hiding behind ... a pile of rubble from a collapsed building. Then he sent his memories as he had been taught.

Hearing the screams of a woman under Cruciatus ... three Death Eaters laughing, restraining one older woman and two children ... a fourth casting the curse at what was probably the children's mother ... two Dementors near, but not near enough to distract the Death Eaters ... Sending his Patronus, a falcon, to drive away the Dementors, then a powerful charm at the Death Eater performing Crucio ... startling the other three Death Eaters, which allowed their hostages to break loose to huddle around their relative who lay shuddering on the ground ... several volleys of curses from Flitwick, the Death Eaters, and the older woman ... a building collapsing between the Death Eaters and their victims, some rubble hitting the older woman, severely injuring her legs ... as Flitwick levitated the rubble off the older woman, one of the Death Eaters managed to hit him with a very nasty curse, disabling his right arm and partly numbing his left ... calling for assistance as the women and children stumbled behind what shelter the rubble offered, waiting for the Death Eaters to come and finish the job ...

With a sharp nod, Harry reached over to Flitwick, his hand already glowing with white healing energy.

"Take care of them first, Harry," protested Flitwick.

"No, they're stable for the moment. I need you in top shape to take them down while I draw their fire," insisted Harry. "I'll leave up a one-way shield around you and the rubble that should take at least a couple of hits. Based on their magic levels, I'd say we're facing one veteran and two rookies. The one you took down also feels like a veteran. I'll stun him to keep him from getting back into the fight."

"The veteran is the one who caught me while I was moving the rubble," Flitwick agreed. "I'll aim for him first."

Harry crept over to where the two women and two girls were huddled. "How are you holding up here, ladies? I can spare a few moments for first aid, but we need to take those Death Eaters out of action."

Both women spoke at once, urging Harry to tend to the other first. The older child insisted, "Take care of Grandmum first, sir," she insisted. "Mum can still walk, but Grandmum can't if we need to run again."

Somehow, the older girl, who just might be a Hogwarts first year, reminded Harry of Hermione ... studious and logical and brave. "I can manage a bit for both of you. Madam? May I?" he asked the older woman whose legs were severely injured. She nodded, and he knelt beside her, gently stroking the sides of her legs, from hip to ankle, three times. With each stroke, the white glow became brighter, then began to fade as the injuries themselves faded. "Be careful, Ma'am. You'll still be weak, and your entire system is in shock."

Then Harry shuffled over to the younger woman, who had been Crucio'd. She was still trembling, with nerve spasms and shooting pains, her face still streaked with tears. "I can hold out awhile longer, young man," she said weakly. "First get those ruddy blighters."

"This will only take a moment, but you'll need more care than I can take the time for just now." Harry smiled at her gently, then reached out to put one hand on her forehead, the other taking her hand. He closed his eyes as he began to glow, then the soothing energy of his healing magic began to calm her abused body. After a few seconds, the glow faded, and she sighed in relief, finally able to think and see more clearly without pain. She noticed the distinctive scar, peeking out from Harry's fringe, and her eyes widened. He smiled, then placed a finger to his lips, urging her to keep his secret. She nodded, then said in a much stronger voice. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

The healing had taken less than a minute for both women. A few hexes had been aimed at the rubble pile, but Flitwick had poked his wand around a corner, keeping the Death Eaters from approaching. He glanced at Harry, and sent, /- Ready? -/

Harry nodded, scuttled to a section of rubble away from the others, then popped up, aimed a Magus-level stunner at the fallen Death Eater, then smirked as the two rookies jumped out, wildly firing Avada Kedavras which were pathetically easy to dodge. As the more experienced Death Eater cautiously came into view, Flitwick grinned a dangerous grin that none of his students would have believed possible for the gentle little professor. This was the look of a fighter, a dueling champion who had a score to settle. As he fired off what had become his signature finishing spell from his tournament days, Harry fired off two quick heavy stunners to take down the two rookies. From behind the rubble, could be heard four voices yelling, "Yes!" followed by cheering.

At that moment, Harry heard the pop that signaled an Apparation. /- She's one of ours, Harry, -/ Flitwick reported.

Seeing that the woman bore a resemblance to the Canadian student, Doug Mason, he quickly came over, saying with a smile, "Madam Mason, I presume? You need to be keyed to the wards so you can Apparate directly back out after portkeying the injured to the Hospital Wing. It will speed up the retrieval time."

Her eyes widened as she realized the implications of what he was saying, that he would key her to the wards ... something only the Magus could do. She nodded in acknowledgement, and asked, "What do you need from me, Mr. Potter?" She felt his mind and magic within hers as he read her magical signature, ordered the wards to accept her, then placed the security spell he was using for non-Circle members. He followed this with a quick mental briefing on the condition of her patients. Blinking several times, she absorbed the information. She scuttled over to the women, checking them out quickly to see if they could handle a portkey trip, which they easily could, then instructed them to grab the portkey ... a towel embroidered with the Hogwarts crest. Tapping the cloth with her wand, she said the trigger word "Rescue," and they disappeared.

Sitting in the Serpent's Throne far from the attack in Hogsmeade, Voldemort watched the proceedings using various of his Death Eaters. Beside him hovered the Voice of the Dementors, monitoring the attack in its own way. "Ah, there! Finally Potter has joined the festivities," commented the Dark Lord, who then swore softly as two of his newest recruits sloppily attempted to hit the Gryffindor with the Killing Curse, then went down heavily stunned. "Send your people to that location. I have it on good authority that the boy is particularly susceptible. I weary of dealing with him. You have my permission to take his soul."

"At long last," answered the Voice. Communicating with the Dementors present in Hogsmeade, the Voice directed, /- It is time ... the Great Stag must fall. -/

In the Great Hall, Hermione had just spoken with Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes. "Ron, Fawkes says there is a group heading to the castle from Hogsmeade seeking shelter, with some Death Eaters and Dementors following. Team B needs to know."

"Right. I'm on it," he answered, then mentally forwarded the information to Snape and the others. He then noticed a strange mental voice, not part of their mindspeech links, but broadcasting at the edge of his awareness. "Hermione, there's something strange coming through ... a message ... it sounds something like 'It is time ... the Great Stag must fall.' What do you think it means?"

"Great Stag? I wonder if it means Harry's Patronus," considered the girl. "Oh my lord, Ron, maybe it's the Dementors. They would know it was a very powerful stag that drove them all away from the lake when they were after Sirius and the rest of us back in third year. They must be able to use a kind of mindspeech to talk to each other. Warn Team A, Ron. Warn them that the Dementors may be going after Harry!"

The first few Dementors were driven away fairly easily by Flitwick and Harry, but with nearly two hundred joined to focus their power on a single individual, even a Magus would begin to crumble ... and he did. Harry began to produce one Patronus after the other so quickly that several were active at one time, something that only very powerful wizards could sustain. He desperately struggled to find just the correct mental shields to protect himself.

As the number of Dementors exceeded 50, Flitwick's falcons faded from sight and he lay trembling, though still conscious. As the number of Dementors exceeded 100, then 150, Harry could produce little more than mist. The screams of his dying parents were followed by the horrors of Cedric's death and Voldemort's resurrection, the backlash of Erasmus's death. He was slipping, but as he relived the loss of his first Circle member, he found the memories of the comfort of the rest of the Circle. He remembered their pledges and bindings, their friendship. He remembered their reassurances. He remembered the Mentor bond, first with Albus, then expanded to include Severus, and he felt their anchoring strength. He raised his wand in his right hand, and his left hand rose beside it. Gathering the strength of his powers and of the love of his friends, his face was raised to the Dementors surrounding him, and he focused himself on the words, "Expecto Patronum!"

From both hands surged dozens of stags, nearly twice their normal size. Instead of just misty silver, they crackled with blue sparks, like electricity. The closest Dementors who came into contact with these sparking stags emitted shrill keening sounds, and seemed to explode, faint echoes of their victims looking like wisps of smoke that drifted, then faded. Harry felt the destruction of these creatures and the tremors of death reverberated in his soul and left small wounds within his mind. His only comfort was the sensation that the souls taken by these dying creatures were being released to pass to their next phase of existence. The other Dementors retreated in terror realizing that their very existence was truly in danger. Harry's vision began to fade as the Dementor-induced memories retreated. He vaguely heard popping sounds, and threads of mindspeech that reported the Death Eaters were retreating. Aurors had arrived, as well as personnel from St. Mungo's. The blackness was nearly complete when he heard Dumbledore's voice and mind calling his name, and Flitwick's voice saying something about Harry's hand or wand, and burns.

The last thing he heard was someone saying the word, 'Chocolate'.

(to be continued)