Harry Potter and the Path to Power

Chapter XIII

"Is Harry alright?" Was the first thing Ron yelled when he floo-ed into the Burrow.

Mrs. Weasley, who had arrived a few minutes earlier, was tending to her husband's scrapes and bruises.

"We've put him to bed, dear. He just has some..."

Hermione arrived.

"Where's Harry?" she yelled, looking frantic.

With a sigh, Mrs. Weasley started anew. "We've put him to bed. He just has some cuts and he's exhausted. There is nothing to worry about. We thought it best to leave it to Madam Pomfrey under the circumstances, she'll be here..."

Before she could say more, Ron and Hermione were running up the stairs, on their way to see their best friend. Exasperated, Mrs. Weasley turned back to her husband.

As he barged into his room first, Ron saw his best friend.

He was as pale as Ron had ever seen him; his face was covered with small cuts and bruises. Added to that, it was contorted with worry, anger and fear. All this, while he was sleeping.

"He looks so vulnerable," Hermione said.

Ron only nodded, still distraught from what had almost happened.

Repeatedly demanding answers, after his father had taken Harry and made the desperate jump into the Floo network, from a very distraught Hermione had not been one of his best ideas. Finally snapping, Hermione had screamed an explanation at him.

She had been in a state of panic and frantic worry; he was not used to this from her and his reaction had not been his best performance ever; he had yelled back, scared himself now, not understanding.

He had yelled, she had yelled, and they had thrown non-sensical arguments at each other until Hermione had finally seen the futility of the entire argument and had calmly explained what could have happened, what would have happened to all of them in a very cold and precise tone of voice.

After that he had taken a seat and shivers had overcome him.

'It was damned scary, you know. I was glad Hermione was able to get through to him.

I mean, it's Harry, but the look of power and anger he had... bloody scary, it was,' he had said to Seamus, and he hadn't known how right he was.

"He looks so tired," he said, trying to drive away his thoughts of fear.

"He's not resting, you can just see he's having dreams again," Hermione added.

"He's not screaming anymore, not even talking in his sleep.

He used to do that, remember? Just after the Triwizard competition.

Now he doesn't even move."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Ron asked. "It means the dreams aren't as bad now."

"No," Hermione answered in a bitter voice, "it means he's getting used to them, that he's hiding them from us."

The two friends stood there for a while, both deep in thought about the third of their number.

Then Hermione stepped forward and sat on the top end of the bed. Slowly she moved Harry's head from his pillow onto her lap and she started to stroke his forehead with her left hand.

Then she moved her right hand to his chest and put it on the breastbone, just under his neck.

Ron just stood there, a bit shocked by what she was doing.

She had done it before, but that had been when Harry was in the Hospital, and she hadn't done the chest thing then.

His face must have shown something because when Hermione looked at him, she blushed.

She whispered: "There is a gland just about here," and she indicated with her left hand. "When properly stimulated and kept warm, it reduces the amount of adrenaline in the body. It will allow him sleep more calmly.

Not waiting for his reaction, she turned her gaze back to Harry and saw his face, even his whole body, lose some of its tension.

The pained expression and the grim set of his mouth seemed to diminish just a little and so she kept doing what she could.

Not knowing what to do, Ron turned while muttering: "I'll leave him to his sleep then," and left the room.

*****

Madam Pomfrey had come and gone before Harry woke up; healing his cuts and bruises while he slept.

Ron and Hermione could hear her mutter through the door all through her work.

Everyone had been banned from the room except Mrs. Weasley, who remained to 'assist' the school nurse. The truth was that she just didn't leave when the others were evicted.

Harry once again woke up physically fine, but exhausted, fortunately less so than before.

After he had spoken to his friends, they went down for dinner.

The tension could be cut with a knife.

On one hand were the Weasleys and Hermione, who were trying to act as normal as possible around Harry, giving the evening a forced attitude.

On the other hand there was Harry, who was quiet and introverted, remembering what had almost happened. He felt himself unable to look anyone in the eye for very long.

"Madam Pomfrey left a letter from Dumbledore for you, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said after dinner.

As she gave it to him, he could see something new in her eyes: pity.

He didn't want pity, he didn't deserve pity and he didn't need it; he resented it.

For the first time he wished he was somewhere else.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I must request you to come to Hogwarts tomorrow instead of two days hence.

Today's events have shown me that we must take immediate action and create a more permanent answer to your circumstance.

I have instructed Madam Pomfrey to replace your Proctor badge with a new one.

It will take you to Hogwarts tomorrow morning at ten o'clock.

As I am aware of the abrupt end of your visit to Diagon Alley and the subsequent lack of clothing, I have taken the liberty of making arrangements to remedy this situation.

Until tomorrow,

Albus Dumbledore

What's it say, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Professor Dumbledore wants me to come to Hogwarts a day early. I leave tomorrow morning at ten o'clock," Harry said quietly.

"I'm sure he can help you, Harry," Hermione said, trying to sound comforting.

"I hope so," Harry whispered. Then in a louder voice he said: "May I be excused? I think I want to do a little flying."

"Of course, dear. Be careful."

"Want some company, mate?" Ron asked.

"No, thank you. I think I'd like to be alone for a while.

Harry grabbed his Firebolt and stepped out the door, not noticing the worried stares.

*****

As he mounted his broom and shot off into the dark, he felt a large part of his worries leave him.

Flying always did this to him; he felt free of the world he had left beneath him and it almost seemed that with that world, he had also left his problems behind.

Leisurely he circled the Burrow a few times, just enjoying the sensation of being airborne; then he shot up into the night sky, becoming a blur, and made a turn towards the clearing where all the impromptu Quidditch games had been held.

There, when he was at the very centre, he made the manoeuvre he had seen at the World Cup: The Wronski Feint.

Fast as he could he turned his broom downward. As he felt the amazing acceleration of his Firebolt, he only urged it on. Faster and faster he went as he saw the ground shooting up towards him.

Only at the very last moment did he pull up, skirting the ground by bare inches.

It was the rush of a lifetime.

He had waited a whole year to do this under normal conditions and he couldn't wait to do it again.

Slowly he circled upward, giving himself a moment to catch his breath.

He repeated the manoeuvre several times, every one of them bringing exhilaration and distraction.

In the shadow stood a female figure, who made sure she was not seen, but saw everything.

She was glad to see Harry like this, even if her heart shot up in her throat every time he repeated the dangerous manoeuvre; she hated seeing the burden he carried in his eyes.

After a while she left, leaving The Boy Who Lived to his few moments of happiness.

****

When he was exhausted, Harry stepped into the Burrow, finding that everyone had gone to bed; everyone except Arthur, who was sitting in front of the fireplace, reading.

"Feel better?"

"Yes," Harry simply answered.

He walked towards the cupboard, took out a glass and then sat down across from his best friend's father.

He picked up the bottle from the table and filled his shot glass.

"I'm sure Dumbledore has a solution," Arthur said, watching the boy's movements.

"I think so too," Harry answered. As he drained his glass, he didn't even shiver. He emptied another.

"I think I'll try to get some sleep. Goodnight." And Harry stood up and went upstairs

*****

Early in the morning Harry woke up.

Downstairs he fixed his breakfast, and while he waited for the rest, made preparations for the family breakfast that would be in about an hour.

As everyone came down, he made them all the breakfast of their choice, despite the almost constant protest from Mrs. Weasley.

When he wanted to do the dishes as well, he was summarily dismissed.

"If my sons know what's good for them, they'll have these dishes done within ten minutes.

None of them ever made me breakfast..." she said with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"You've gone and done it now. We'll never be able to live this one down," Fred whispered in passing.

"Why don't you go pack your trunk, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said.

A bit baffled, Harry stood there. "I forgot to buy a new one..." he said.

"No you didn't," Arthur told him. "You already have a new one. It was a birthday present from Sirius. He was so convinced you would make a recovery, that he went ahead and had Remus buy you one.

You go ahead and get your things; someone will bring it to you in a moment."

Happy about Sirius' foresight and confidence, Harry went up to Ron's room and started to gather his things.

There wasn't much; only his books and supplies, the few clothes he had, and the toiletries Mrs. Weasley had gotten him.

Nothing else.

Hermione came into the room, dragging a chest.

"Ron and the twins are still doing the dishes while Mrs. Weasley and Ginny are keeping an eye on them, and Mr. Weasley fled the scene, so I thought I'd bring up your trunk."

Harry didn't turn around; he kept staring at his possessions silently.

"Harry?" she asked tentatively.

Harry's shoulders seemed to be making shuddering movements.

Hermione dropped the trunk and moved towards her best friend; slowly she put a hand on his shoulder, his back still turned to her.

"Harry?" she whispered.

"They're gone..." the answer came in a constrained voice.

"What's gone, Harry?"

He turned towards her; she saw tears coming from his eyes.

They were the first tears she had seen on his face since before his hospitalisation. Maybe the first free flowing tears ever.

The look in his eyes was worse then she had ever seen. She had seen him at his best and probably at his worst; full of elation after winning the Quidditch Cup and haunted by the horrors that filled his eyes as he had told her some of his nightmares and a part of the things that had happened in the last year.

Now she saw a loss in his eyes so profound, it almost made her cry.

"I just didn't realise..." he whispered.

Out of instinct Hermione hugged him, pulling him close to her.

"What, Harry?"

"It was all that I had left of them..." he said, not making real sense to her.

She waited until he felt the need to say more, silently holding him, feeling tears drip from his face onto her shoulder.

"My father's cloak... and my photo album...I hadn't realised..."

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry."

Hermione didn't know what else to say.

She knew how much he valued these possessions, his only link to his parents.

Suddenly Harry went rigid and he stepped back, his face as hard as stone.

"They're just pictures, I'm sure there are others."

He turned around and picked up his scant possessions, brusquely put them into the chest and stormed out of the room, dragging his luggage with him.

Hermione was left standing, confused.

Harry had never been very open with his feelings, understandable given his upbringing, but he had never been dishonest.

Never had she been let in and then shut out like he had just done.

Wondering what to do, she stood there for a few moments until she followed him downstairs.

*****

When Hermione stepped into the living room, there was such chaos surrounding Harry's imminent departure, she didn't have a chance to talk to him about it and she suspected he wouldn't appreciate her bringing it up in public. It would have to wait until school began, but it was only a postponement.

"Are you sure you have everything, dear?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

"Do you have your badge on?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

"Now, remember to take your potions, dear."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

"Remember to hold on to your trunk."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

"I'm sure Harry has everything under control, dear," Arthur came to the rescue.

"Yes, but..." Mrs. Weasley began.

"Just let him say goodbye to everyone first, then you can go on," her husband said with a smile.

"Well, I never..." she began to say, but Harry wasn't paying attention anymore, as the twins had descended upon him.

"Now, Harry..." Fred began.

"...we know that you're a Proctor and all now..." George continued.

"...but you have to remember, you're not a Prefect..." Fred took over.

"...unlike some little brother that will remain nameless..." his twin said with an evil grin towards their youngest brother.

"...oh yes, nameless. The disgrace is just unbearable..."

"...just imagine, he may even become Head Boy..."

"...Now that would truly be terrible..."

"Is there a point to this ranting?" Ron huffed.

"Hmm, yes, back to our original point..." George said, looking as if wondering what his original point had been.

"We just wanted to let you know..." Fred said, remembering what he had meant to say.

"...That we'll be bringing the MML to Hogwarts..." George now whispered into Harry's left ear.

"... and that it's available to you anytime," Fred whispered into Harry's right ear.

As the Twins retreated he caught a disapproving glance from Hermione.

He already felt guilty about what had happened earlier. He had not meant to shut her out like that, but it had been an instinctive reaction.

Now, she probably knew exactly what the Twins had been telling him and that brought up another reason to be upset with him, although he thought she had understood his reasons.

Ron came forward and slapped him on his shoulders.

"Now, don't you go off having fun and adventures without us. Just make sure you're a good little Proctor or I'm sure the big bad Prefect Hermione will make your life hell."

"Ron!" Hermione shrieked, but was clearly fighting a smile. Once again Ron had hit exactly the right note to alleviate tension he was probably not even aware of.

"If you mean by adventure: being in trouble with no idea how to get out of it, all the time being afraid of either detention or imminent death... don't worry, I'll wait for you," Harry answered in a amused voice.

"I hope they let you come on the train; if not, we'll see you at the feast, if they don't throw you out first that is," Ron said with a smirk.

Harry only let out an amused growl but was distracted by a hug from Hermione.

"Just be careful Harry, and remember, if anything happens: go to Dumbledore!"

Still feeling a bit guilty about what he had done previously, Harry hugged Hermione back tightly and then on impulse gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'll see you on the train or at Hogwarts.

Are you staying here?"

"Hmm, what? Oh, only for another day, then I'm spending the last days with my parents," Hermione answered. "They say they don't see me enough, with me spending most of my other holidays at school."

"Four minutes to go," Mr. Weasley interrupted. He took Harry's hand and shook it, man to man, "Remember what I told you Harry, and if you ever need somewhere to come home to, you are welcome here."

"Thank you... for everything, Arthur."

Ron spluttered in surprise: "Since when do you call my father by his first name?"

But he was mostly ignored as a quick hug followed from Mrs. Weasley together with several last minute admonishments. Harry stepped towards his trunk.

Well, that's everyone... No, wait; I haven't said goodbye to Ginny yet..."

"Wait, don't go yet," came a loud yell from up the stairs.

Ginny came barrelling down the steps at top speed, flailing her arm to keep her balance.

At the bottom of the stairs she saw everyone standing there, instead of in the kitchen where she was expecting them.

Due to the speed at which she was moving she couldn't stop herself and instead crashed into Harry in a full frontal assault, knocking him off his feet.

As Harry felt himself going down, Ginny following him close behind, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her, trying to shield her from the fall.

"Oomph," was the only sound he made when he hit the ground.

"I am so sorry," Ginny immediately said, putting her hands on his chest to keep stable, "I was afraid I wouldn't get a chance to say goodbye, I had lost track of time and..."

"Ginny!" Harry interrupted.

"Yes?"

"It's alright, we still have one or two minutes," he said in a phlegmatic voice, as he moved his hands to her sides as to keep her steady.

"Oh, okay. Well I just wanted to say goodbye and I'll see you at Hogwarts. Oh, and I..."

"Ginny," Harry again interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Would you mind getting of me now?"

"What? OH!" Ginny exclaimed and immediately turned a very interesting shade of red. It was probably deeper than any Harry had seen before, and he seen quite a few variations. He also noticed that it went all the way down her neck right towards...

Well, right towards where it was none of his business.

"I'm so sorry," she started to apologize again as she was moving off him.

As Harry's view became unblocked he could quite clearly see Fred, George and Arthur smirking, barely containing their laughter.

Ron and Hermione seemed to be somewhere between amused and annoyed, while Mrs. Weasley managed to keep a completely straight face.

"It was an accident, I understand. Don't worry about it."

"One minute to go," Mr. Weasley interrupted.

"Oh, better get your things then," Ginny said nervously.

As Harry took a quick hold of his trunk and broom he turned to what was in effect his extended family.

"Goodbye, everyone," he said.

"Goodbye, Harry," Ginny said and gave him a quick and uncertain hug followed by a kiss on the cheek.

Before Harry could say anything or even take in the indignant faces of Ron and his brothers, he felt the unsettling pull of the Portkey and The Burrow disappeared.

He hated Portkey travel.

*****

As sudden as The Burrow had disappeared, as abrupt was the appearance of the front gate of Hogwarts.

Harry had apparently arrived just outside of the outer wall of the castle grounds and before him were the massive badger, eagle, snake and lion guarding the entrance.

"Harry Potter, Harry Potter is here," he heard a squeaky but familiar voice before he was crashed into for the second time that day; fortunately, he didn't fall this time.

As he looked down he saw Dobby, the house-elf, attached to his leg, his small arms wrapped around the limb.

"Dobby is so happy that Harry Potter Sir is back at Hogwarts were he is safe. Dobby heard all about what happened to Harry Potter Sir, and Dobby is going to take extra good care of Harry Potter Sir. Is there anything Dobby can get for Harry Potter Sir?"

Totally overwhelmed but also a bit touched by the house-elf's display of affection, Harry didn't know anything better to say to say than:

"No, thank you Dobby, I don't need anything right now. I have to see Professor Dumbledore, he's expecting me."

"Yes, Dobby was sent to get Harry Potter Sir by the Headmaster. Dobby almost forgot; bad Dobby, bad Dobby," the house-elf squeaked as he hit his head against one of the statues.

"Stop it, Dobby," Harry said as he grabbed the distraught house-elf. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore doesn't expect you to punish yourself like this."

"Oh, but Harry Potter, Dobby is now keeping Headmaster's most important secrets. Dobby should be more careful, Headmaster trusts Dobby to do important things now." The house-elf was about to bang his head once more, but was stopped by Harry again.

"I'm quite sure Professor Dumbledore doesn't want you to do this.

Besides, we're keeping him waiting like this." As Harry saw the tears that were about to burst from Dobby's eyes, he knew this had been the wrong thing to say.

"You know what? Let's just go to the headmaster first and then later you can ask him if he wants you punished... now doesn't that seem fair?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, that is fair. Dobby knew Harry Potter is a great wizard, but Dobby didn't know that Harry Potter is also very wise. Dobby is very honoured to know Harry Potter."

Dobby grabbed Harry's hand and almost dragged him along through the gates of Hogwarts.

As they passed the gates Harry had the indefinable feeling they were passing an unseen barrier and only in the corner of his eyes did he seem to see a faint golden light shimmer.

"Headmaster has been telling Dobby what is going to happen; Harry Potter is going to be given a great honour," the house-elf prattled on while dragging Harry behind him.

"What are you talking about Dobby, what's going to happen?" he asked in surprise.

"Dobby can't tell, Dobby is a good house-elf and is keeping all of Headmaster's secrets."

Harry thought they must have made a bizarre picture while they were walking through the castle; the small house-elf walking in front of a young wizard, dragging him by the hand and not looking back.

As they arrived at the gargoyle that was the sentry to Dumbledore's office, Dobby squeaked "butterscotch" and the guardian moved, revealing the moving stairs to the Headmaster's office.

As they made their way upstairs, Harry looked at the paintings that hung in the staircase.

Instead of sleeping, like they had done any other time he had visited the Headmaster's office, the paintings seemed to be wide awake and whispering among themselves.

As Harry and Dobby stepped into the office, they were immediately greeted by Albus Dumbledore.

"Ah, Harry so glad you could make it.

Dobby, thank you for escorting Harry, you may go and tend to your other duties now."

"Yes, Headmaster," the house-elf squeaked back, taking his leave.

"Now, Harry, sit down, we have a lot to talk about."

As they both sat down in two comfortable leather chairs that were positioned at a window of the circular room , a small table beside each one, Dumbledore waved his wand and a pot of tea, two cups and a plate of scones appeared.

"Ah, Coconut scones, my favourite," the professor said as he enthusiastically rubbed his hands together.

"Spot of tea, Harry?"

Nervous and not knowing what was ahead, Harry was glad with the delay. "Yes, please."

"Sugar?"

"One lump, please."

As Professor Dumbledore prepared the tea, he went on to chat congenially.

"I hoped you enjoyed your stay at the Burrow. The Weasleys are such a wonderful family, especially Molly, now there is an exceptional wife, mother and woman; has an excellent tea, too; this is some of her blend incidentally. The house-elves just can't find it and she won't tell where she gets it." As the Professor talked on, Harry's attention wavered with a nervous fitfulness.

The office was still filled with all kinds of interesting gadgets, objects and magical items.

Among them there was the familiar Sorting Hat, and Gryffindor's sword was displayed on a pedestal next to a large bookcase. Fawkes was absent.

As his gazed wandered further, Harry heard Dumbledore continue with small talk. While he sipped some tea, he answered absentmindedly.

On a shelf, tucked away behind a few books, Harry clearly recognized the crystal that he had filled with magic earlier, but it had lost its white glow and was now nothing more than a beautiful piece of art.

"Small talk, there is nothing quite like it, but I see that you have too much on your mind, Mr. Potter. Let us cut to the heart of the matter, shall we?" the Headmaster said with a small smile.

Harry now focused his full attention on the venerable wizard, hoping to hear the words he so desperately wanted to hear, that there was a solution.

"We both know what happened in the countryside, and what almost happened yesterday," Dumbledore said, a serious note in his voice now.

"You will understand that unless we can produce a solution, you can not attend Hogwarts, it would just be too dangerous."

Harry only nodded; this was what he feared more than anything except hurting those close to him.

"I may have an answer to your predicament, but I must warn you that there are no certainties and that it entails a big decision on your part."

"I will do almost anything to... get myself under control," Harry stated in a very flat voice.

"I know you will, my boy; good. First I have to recount a little history, to give you some background for my solution."

Dumbledore leaned back in his comfortable chair and put his hands together.

"When Hogwarts was founded, a great many spells were incorporated into the structure. You will possibly learn some of them in the future, but the only one that matters for this conversation is 'magus moderatio'. This spell allows for wild 'surges' of magic, as are often found in young wizards and witches, to be controlled. Do you have any questions so far?"

Harry shook his head, thinking that Hermione probably knew all of this.

"The problem we face now is twofold. Your magic is too strong for the spell to control and your magic works differently now.

Emotions have always had influence on anyone's magic, but with you it seems to be, for lack of a better word, interwoven.

This only serves to make any 'surge' even more powerful.

The fact of the matter is Hogwarts can not help you in this."

It was as he had feared; he was going to be expelled. He would be unable to see his friends again and he would have to leave the only place he had ever called home.

"As you know, I and a great many people have been looking for a solution ever since we became aware of the problem.

After your first episode, we intensified our efforts.

Our first line of thinking turned out to be a failure. We thought to put wards between you and any intense emotions. Unfortunately, this only served to build up an even more powerful surge."

They had failed, he knew it. Dumbledore was just trying to soften the blow, but any moment now he would say that it was hopeless.

"After making endeavours into various wards, charms, potions and other sorts of magic we were stuck, we had no solutions and no more options."

This was it, here came the axe.

"Strangely enough it was Professor Binns who handed me the solution.

He visits me in my office sometimes, you know; we were friends when he was alive.

As I told him of our dilemma, he started telling of wizard education before Hogwarts.

And there we found our answer."

Harry opened one eye, only now realising he had closed them to soften the blow.

He wasn't going to be sent away?

"Tell me Harry, do you know anything about the practice of apprenticing?"

For once he was glad that Hermione was so stern when it came to the rules and he had been paying cursory attention for this particular class. It had been part of their information when they chose their classes for third year.

"A wizard or witch can apprentice when he or she wants to specialize in a field, like becoming a Potions Master or a Seer," he said, trying to remember everything he had read back then, but not really paid attention to.

"A bit shortened, but in essence, true," Dumbledore said with that knowing twinkle in his eyes. "But that is what it is now. As you no doubt remember from History of Magic, things used to be quite different.

Before the founding of Hogwarts and other schools like it, a young witch or wizard would apprentice to a master wizard or witch in order to learn their magic. This used to be a practise of handing down knowledge from father to son and mother to daughter, but the advent of more and more Muggleborns and the increasing size of wizarding families made this practise outdated.

Then Hogwarts was founded, and as more and more people discovered the advantages of institutionalized education, the practise of apprenticing became much like it is today."

Harry wondered what all this had to do with him, but was coming to know Dumbledore well enough to comprehend that the powerful wizard would come to his point in his own time.

Actually, he found he was enjoying the lecture; it was distracting him from his problems.

"What most people don't remember these days is that the apprentice-master relationship went much further than that of teacher-student.

Not only did the master wizard impart his knowledge, but he also helped the young wizard to harness and control his power until the day that the apprentice was ready to do that for himself. That function was later taken over by the wards here at Hogwarts, which leave a magical residue, even when the pupil is not at the school, to make sure he or she is safe during the holidays.

Do you have any questions, Harry?"

Harry wanted to know how this all would contribute to the solution of his problem, but decided to wait before letting his impatience get the better of him.

He had to remember that self-control was much more important to him now.

So the only thing he did was shake his head.

"Good; very good of you, to endure the doddering of an old man, Mr. Potter.

Now, for our solution. It's actually quite simple; you, Harry, will become my apprentice."