Harry Potter and the Path to Power

Chapter XVIII

His lungs were still burning and his legs were cramped painfully, and he was not the only one breathing hard. All the students were lined up in a small courtyard located on the cliffs by the lake. It was sealed off at three sides by the castle and two high walls. The fourth side had an open view to the lake and its only perimeter was a low but very thick wall made out of cobblestones. The courtyard was only accessible by two doors, one to the insides of the castle, one in the east wall.

They were all still breathing hard because they had just completed what Moody called 'light morning exercises.'

If these were light exercises, Harry didn't want to get into a full program. Moody had started them out on lapping the lake twice.

Their trainer, looking none the worse for wear despite doing exactly the same exercises as his charges and being more than three times their age, glared at them.

"That was pathetic, people. Please do me and yourself a favour and leave because if you think it's bad now, you should realise it is about to get worse.

I would like to introduce you maggots to John Strynger," he said, and a man appeared through the door that led into the castle.

He was a common looking man of average height and build, and he did not look very impressive. With him he carried a stick approximately eight and a half feet in length. At the outer ends of the stick were leather paddings.

"Master Strynger is here to instruct you in the noble art of quarterstaff fighting. The Quarterstaff is the traditional weapon for a Proctor; it is both ceremonial and effective.

England has a long and proud tradition in the use of this 'king of weapons'. Respect it and respect your teacher or answer to me. I will see you all after class." As Moody walked off, Strynger placed himself before the line.

"I am a Master Staff Man. You will address me as Master Strynger in this class and Mr. or Master Strynger outside of it, as you choose," the new teacher said, his voice even and with little inflection.

"The quarterstaff was, and is an extremely versatile weapon, both on the battlefield and in personal combat. It can be used as freely as the staff man wishes to use it.

When used to strike or hit it is like a sword or battle axe, when used to thrust it becomes like a spear; strikes and thrusts can be from either side of the body.

This makes it very difficult for any opponent to respond quickly to these attacks that can change so readily from side to side, and from thrust to strike without pause.

Because of it's versatility it is extremely suited for use against multiple opponents."

Master Strynger started to walk up the line of students, looking each one in the eye as if trying to ascertain something.

"A Staff Man has the advantage of reach over an unarmed opponent and over almost every conceivable hand weapon with the exception of shooting weapons.

The only thing someone using a quarterstaff has to do is keep his enemy or enemies at a distance, victory will swiftly follow.

This is what I shall teach you." There was a momentary pause and then the man continued.

You may ask yourself: why learn this? We have magic that is far superior," Strynger said in an innocent tone, the first inflection he had allowed in his voice.

The question was obvious in the demeanour of many of the candidates.

"The answer is simple and twofold.

The first is tradition. The quarterstaff is and always will be the weapon of a Proctor. It was used for centuries in a period of time where having a personal weapon was a necessity.

It has been used to great affect by all those who went before you. As such it is a badge of office.

The second consideration is practicality.

Quite simply put, magic is not always the answer.

At times it is impossible to conjure magic quick enough or in ample quantity; trust me when I say that this staff can be the only thing standing between you and your opponents, it can save your life. It can defend you against most conventional weapons used in the wizarding world.

It also allows you to be more selective in your attacks under conditions that magic will not. You will learn this.

An Englishman named Richard Peeke was involved in an episode during the English, Spanish wars and is a tale of how effective the Quarterstaff can be in trained hands.

After being captured he went up against no less then six men all armed with rapiers and poniards as a part of a challenge.

Peeke and the rapier men warily traversed each other, all the while thrusting and warding, till finally Peeke gambled on an all out attack. His first blow left one of his adversaries dead, and his subsequent blows left two others injured and disarmed. The remaining three yielded after receiving several painful blows.

No doubt they also left the Spanish seriously questioning the wisdom of their invasion plans. Peeke's feat so impressed his Spanish captors that they released him and granted him safe conduct to England.

A tale to warm the heart of any Englishman, if you ask me," Strynger laughed harshly.

"Now get a quarterstaff from the basket," and indeed a house-elf had appeared with a basket full of sticks of the same design as Strynger was carrying, "then we'll get started."

"Finally! I thought he'd never stop talking," Blaise Zabini murmured.

"And what are we learning this for, it's bloody useless," a 7^th year Ravenclaw added.

"Trust me," Harry whispered, remembering how easily he had lost his wand on no less than two occasions only a short time before, "this could be useful."

He selected a staff from the basket that was about a foot longer than he was. The smooth wood felt good in his hands and the weight comfortable, yet Harry couldn't escape the feeling that this staff was missing something.

*****

"Does anyone here think they can take me?" Master Strynger asked as all the candidates had chosen a staff.

"Sure," the large and bulky 7^th year Hufflepuff said, a confident grin on his face as he was sure he could beat the much smaller man.

It had to be said, the boy was so large and bulking with muscle, that Harry thought he might just stand a chance.

After some quick instruction on how to hold a quarterstaff, the two stood opposite each other on a training mat.

"As this is the first time, you may attack," Master Strynger said.

After a moment of hesitation the Hufflepuff - Henry Pereson, Harry thought his name was- charged, using the staff as an oversized stick to thwack with.

Strynger quite easily deflected the attack with a deft movement and seemed to flow back to a relaxed basic stance.

Pereson now decided to use the staff as a spear. With a loud roar, charging like a mad bull he rammed the end of his staff towards his opponent.

Again Strynger deflected the blows: only moving his staff, not his body and Pereson fell face forward because his staff hit nothing.

After he had gotten up Pereson attacked again, his face contorted in anger because of his fall, but Strynger easily defended. The difference in grace and purpose was clear even to the untrained eye.

Suddenly, as Pereson was recovering from another futile attempt, Strynger's staff swept the unlucky student from his feet in a movement that was almost too quick to follow.

"You see how easy it is to use a staff, even for the untrained. Had I not been capable of the defence I just put up I would have been unconscious.

In the hands of a trained staff man this wood becomes a deadly weapon. I could have just as easily killed him, knocked him unconscious or crippled him as I knocked him down," Master Strynger said as Pereson crawled back to his feet, apparently none the worse for wear.

"Not bad. What's your name?"

"Henry Pereson, Sir."

"Step back in line, Mr. Pereson. Anyone else want to try?"

No one answered and Harry didn't think anyone would until Cho stepped forward.

As Cho stepped onto the training mat, Strynger wanted to instruct her, but Cho was already in what appeared to be a relaxed waiting stance, quite different than the one their instructor had explained before, but it was clear that she knew what she was doing and she held the weapon easily in hand.

Eying her suspiciously, Strynger asked: "What is your name?"

"Cho Chang, Sir."

"Any relation to Hien Chang?" Strynger asked.

"My Uncle, Sir."

"Good," was the instructor's only answer, a smile apparently tugging at his lips.

Both bowed formally to each other in slightly different manners.

This time Master Strynger did not wait for an attack but took the initiative himself.

His staff blurred as he thrust each end successively towards Cho, who moved her own staff to intercept.

All of a sudden Strynger changed his movement and with a spin attacked Cho at her middle.

She was, however, not caught unprepared and she held her staff rigidly to the side of her body, then, at contact, flowed with the impact.

She dropped to her knees and swiped her staff at Strynger's feet, only holding on to the tip.

Quickly Strynger jumped up, avoiding the staff and took advantage of Cho's temporary lack of defence.

Still in the air, he clamped his staff to his side and twisted his upper body as to hit Cho.

She, however, was no longer in the place she had been a few seconds ago and was instead rolling towards Strynger. As she came out of the roll, she thrust her staff forward, hitting the instructor square in the chest, knocking him back.

With what looked like a complicated move, letting the staff sweep around her, Cho resumed the same basic position from which she had begun. She was smiling, something Harry had not seen her do this year and her eyes had a spark in them.

Strynger nimbly jumped to his feet with a grin and immediately pressed the attack again. He seemed to be moving much faster this time around, pressing Cho and driving her back, as he launched a volley of strikes on her right and left flank.

Suddenly he changed tactics again and made a thrust at her head. Cho threw back her head and Strynger used the opening to turn the end of his staff closest to him downward and swiped Cho's left foot from underneath her.

Cho hit the ground with a loud thud and Harry winced as he considered the bones Cho might have broken. Unlike Cho, Strynger pressed the attack and in a flash was standing over Cho thrusting his staff towards her head, stopping only at the last possible instant.

The room was absolutely silent except for the heavy breathing of both Strynger and Cho.

The instructor returned to a basic position and allowed Cho to stand.

"Stand down," he barked and Cho relaxed.

"Well done, Miss Chang, you are almost as good as your uncle. I have little to teach you and can only offer you myself as a sparring partner. Count on me using you to assist me in instructing this class as your knowledge of the Shaolin techniques seems to outweigh mine. You could use some instruction on English technique, however. There are certain advantages to knowing both."

Master Strynger then returned his attention to his class and Cho stepped back in line.

"As you could see the techniques Miss Chang and I used are quite different from each other.

The Shaolin way she employs is focused on wearing out your enemy with numerous smaller attacks and is more focused on grace and style. The traditional English technique I employ is focused on one thing and one thing only: to take down your opponent fast and completely; we're hard bastards. Now let's get you started."

The rest of the morning was spent practising basic handhold and manoeuvres with the quarterstaff while Strynger and Cho walked among the students to give advice and new instructions.

Harry couldn't help but notice that sadly enough Cho seemed to be deliberately avoiding him.

He sighed, but was not really surprised. After the way Cho had acted the day before he had a fair idea of what she thought of him and it was not good. He couldn't really blame her though; he was, after all, responsible for the death of her boyfriend.

As the exercises became increasingly difficult and the pace increased Harry forgot his thoughts and feelings over Cho's behaviour.

He had never done much sport outside of Quidditch; the Dursleys' wouldn't let him.

As he learned more and more basic techniques and he became surer of what he was doing, Harry found he enjoyed the single-minded focus. He needed all his concentration to make the movements work with his inexperience and no other thoughts bothered him.

Thrust.

Block.

Strike.

Strike again.

*****

Harry was quite surprised by Moody's sudden appearance and his order to lunch.

He was glad for the food though. Yesterday there had been no lunch and he had felt the extra strain on his body.

Now, after demanding physical effort, he was ravenous and he didn't think he could go without food.

Lunch consisted not of the same gruel they had been served the day before, but rather of sandwiches and fruit, with all the pumpkin juice and milk they could drink.

Harry was still prone to eating quickly; his instinct still told him it could be taken away at a moment's notice, just like Vernon had done.

For once his instincts served him well as Moody announced the ending of lunchtime after only a few minutes, and the look on several faces clearly said they had not eaten all they wanted.

Alastor Moody led them to a nearby classroom where Professor McGonagall was waiting for them.

The look on the face of strict Transfiguration Mistress made it clear that she would accept even less in this lecture then she would during her normal classes.

"Welcome to Protocol and Rules. I will be teaching you Hogwarts' Rules as a Prefect or Proctor should know them, the proper conduct of a Proctor and the relationship between Proctor, teacher, Prefect, and student," she said in her usual 'pay attention this is important tone.'

"We expect the very best out of you, so you will apply yourself to this material."

McGonagall handed out a thick booklet with the heading 'Hogwarts' Rules and Protocol'.

"Please open to page one and we will start reviewing the rules," Professor McGonagall announced.

As Harry quickly scanned the first page he saw that although he knew most of these rules from a student's point of view, this list contained a lot of amendments, exceptions and additions.

Although McGonagall was a fair teacher, even she could not make a reviewing of rules interesting, especially to a very sleepy Harry.

He was sure that he had gotten only a few hours sleep the previous night, and he was physically tired.

The classroom was very warm and cosy and McGonagall's droning voice was very soothing.

This made the prospect of nice nap very alluring until from the back of the class Moody's voice bellowed: "BELL, GUARD DUTY TONIGHT FOR SLEEPING IN CLASS.

All of a sudden all the students present sat up straight, their eyes wide awake and their attention fully on the lecture.

Shortly, Harry glanced to his right and gave Katie a sympathetic look. She shrugged and looked acquiescent to her circumstances.

*****

The next class was about the history of Hogwarts and the Protectorate Council. Again the classroom was very warm and cosy and because of Binns' droning the whole thing was even more sleep inducing than McGonagall's class despite the fact that it was the most interesting History class that Harry had ever attended. The ghostly Professor somehow managed to make it all sound boring, a fact that gave three more students guard duty that night.

The afternoon was concluded with one final lesson on etiquette by Professor Sininstra, the elegant and beautiful (for a teacher, Harry added to himself) Astronomy teacher.

It wasn't that Harry minded the class so much, although it was hard to determine what it was good for through the haze that had settled in his brain; in fact he thought he could probably use it seeing as how the Dursley's had raised him, or better said, not raised him.

It was just that the classroom was so warm, he was so tired, so very tired, the Professor's voice melodic and his desk seemed so soft that he could not help his mind from drifting off to sleep, his eyes drooping and his head sagging every few seconds, after which he would jerk his head up in shock, especially if Moody was assigning another student guard duty that night, and as they had found out that morning from Phalu Freedman, disciplinary guard duty meant no sleep.

"POTTER, GUARD DUTY TONIGHT FOR SLEEPING IN CLASS," Moody yelled as Harry found himself with his head on his desk.

That only left three students not disciplined- one of them, surprisingly enough, Freedman.

*****

Dinner followed classes. This time dinner was something Harry could actually see as edible, unlike the night before.

Ravenously he tore into his food, quickly followed by the others who all remembered lunch.

After dinner Moody once more cleared the table from the Great Hall and conjured a mat.

Again Harry was excused from the exercise and sent to Dumbledore for special lessons.

Dumbledore showed Harry several breathing techniques to help with the meditation he was teaching him, after which they tried several spells.

It was frustrating, but again not even the simplest spell would come from his wand correctly.

Dumbledore was encouraging enough, but his failure did not have the best effect on Harry's already downcast mood.

As he re-entered the Great Hall after the failed session, all the other students were already gone except for Blaise Zabini.

As he approached her she stared daggers at him and impatiently tapped her foot.

"What took you so long, Potter? Isn't it enough you get special treatment because of that scar of yours? Now you have to keep me waiting?" she snapped.

"I'm sorry, Dumbledore has me..."

"I'm sure Dumbledore has you drinking tea and eating cookies while we are being put through a mangler by Moody, but frankly, I don't care. We are to report to the armoury. Guard duty is done in full armour."

"But I'm not..." Harry started to protest against Blaise's hard words.

Without waiting for what he had to say, the Slytherin turned her back to Harry and walked out of the Great Hall. After a moment, Harry followed her.

*****

Tired, he was so very tired. No, tired was not a strong enough word; exhausted came close.

Harry could hardly keep his eyes open.

For two nights now he had been on guard duty; the only one to have the bad luck to pull it on two consecutive nights.

After the first night he had been tired, the morning exercises had been that much harder to complete, his attention that much harder to focus on Master Strynger's lessons.

It had been bad enough that he had to help Blaise into her Hogwarts' provided armour, instead of the custom made armour - he had to put his hands on places he was sure he was not allowed to go- but when it came time for Blaise to help him into his armour, an even worse fit than hers, he had not known where to look from embarrassment.

He had felt her hands all over his body, straightening underclothes, smoothing them down; he felt her hand slide across his back while she tightened the straps. And the sight of her kneeling in front of him while her hands adjusted the laces on his boots... it was enough to drive away his sleep. His response had been obvious and probably unavoidable.

Why, oh why couldn't they just use their own armour? They would probably be a much easier fit. But rules were rules, according to Moody, and they weren't Proctors yet.

To top it all off he had to take her attitude, all night long. They had both been assigned to the main doors. It had been a very long night.

Oh well, at least Blaise was a lot more original than Malfoy; and she didn't seem to have trouble with Muggleborns per se, just with poor people, dumb people, clumsy people, tasteless people... all kinds of people that weren't up to her standards.

And if only she'd have stopped with the innuendo's... he had found out it could get very uncomfortable, very quickly in poorly fitting armour. He just did not understand her.

Harry was currently trying to concentrate on a lecture by Professor Flitwick on duelling.

While he had been in session with Professor Dumbledore, all the other candidates had been evaluated on their skills in this particular field.

It had quickly been decided to go back to the basics. It was unfair according to Harry, he hadn't even been tested himself... then again, he wouldn't accomplish much right now, would he?

"...unless surprised, distracted or in a small and confined space, any witch or wizard can get a shield up.

The whole point of duelling, especially if both are equally powerful, is to either break the other's shield, or slip something by it.

Now, as you all should know, a shield can be made in two ways. A specialized shield, focused on one kind of curse, hex or charm or a class of curse, hex or charm.

The other possibility is a general shield, focused to keep anything out," the tiny professor lectured while pacing up and down his desk with his little legs, looking more serious than Harry had ever seen him look.

"Of course, a general shield is much weaker, or much more draining, than a focused shield. As a general rule, the more general the shield the more power it consumes.

Therefore, if you can anticipate your opponent's next move you can save yourself a lot of energy.

Knowledge is power in this particular field. Know your opponent and you can anticipate."

Harry felt his head drop to his chest. He quickly pinched himself to keep awake, but it was getting harder and harder.

"We will first focus on teaching you several different general shield charms. Experience has taught us that every person has his own preference. We will just have to find out what yours is.

We will begin with the Aegis charm, then Protego, and for those of you capable of it, we will experiment with the Scutum incantation, however ...

Harry was at peace. He felt warm, content, and the best thing was: his eyes were closed.

He needed this; he couldn't function another minute without some sleep.

Maybe he could keep sitting up, pretending to listen while he slept?

But the thought was soon lost to slumber.

He dreamt.

Dreamt about Ron and him playing Quidditch, dreamt about Hermione telling him things in the library -such a peaceful place, he liked it. Better not tell Hermione that, she'd want to spend all her time there if he didn't drag her away from time to time. But he'd keep doing that, he liked spending time with her, in or out of the library- dreamt he paid Zabini back for all her snarky remarks and innuendos by...

"POTTER, GUARD DUTY FOR SLEEPING IN CLASS," Moody bellowed the now familiar words.

Harry sat straight up, he was awake. Third night in a row without sleep. He had always made do with little sleep, and during the past few months the hours he slept only diminished, but three nights without sleep? Did Moody dislike him? Maybe blamed him for what had happened last year?

"The strength of a shield charm is directly proportional to the amount of magic the caster puts into it -or is able to put into it- and the sheer will of the caster," Flitwick kept lecturing, not at all perturbed by the interruption, he had apparently gotten used to it after falling off his desk the first two times.

"It can be concluded then, that the power a shield and the power of the curses one caster can produce is a constant; the stronger the shield, the weaker the offensive. Sometimes it is better to evade curses instead of taking them on shields as to preserve power."

Harry sighed and resumed taking notes. How was he going to remember all of this if he was so very tired?

****

Harry was swaying on his feet. He was just too tired to stand up straight.

For the third night in a row he was standing disciplinary guard in front of the main entrance.

"Harry, over here," a female voice whispered.

Harry turned to his left and could just see a lock of blond hair peeping around the corner of the entrance hall.

"Katie, is that you?" he asked surprised.

"Yes. Keep your voice down; we don't want anyone to hear."

Harry walked towards the pillar she was hiding behind.

"We've all decided that we should help out the ones on guard duty. It's the only way we're going to survive this week," she whispered.

"That's why I'm here. The plan is as follows: Freedman and Chang are breaking into the infirmary as we speak. They're going to knick us some pepper-up potions. If you guys take it when you get off duty, it should be enough to wash away a part of the exhaustion. That way, you get to stay awake during class and sleep in bed."

From a distance they could hear the familiar clunking Moody made while walking.

"Shit, it's Moody," Katie cursed, "I've got to hide."

She was about to run down another passage when Harry stopped her.

"Not that way; he'll see you if he goes past the Great Hall and takes the backstairs instead of coming down the main stairs. That eye of his sees through walls, you know."

"What then?"

"Too late, he's almost here... get behind me, it's our only chance, maybe he'll be too tired to notice, he can't be getting much sleep either."

Quickly Katie squatted behind Harry, under his heavy cloak which quite flustered Harry. She grabbed onto his upper legs for balance.

"Potter, you awake?" Moody said in a voice that echoed in the massive entry hall.

"Yes sir. Nothing unusual to report," Harry said. He had become used to these nightly inspections and anticipated what the next question was going to be.

Moody looked at Harry, as if detecting some lie in his voice, but apparently did not notice Katie behind him.

"Good, carry on," the former Auror said.

After the sound of Moody's walk had completely disappeared, Katie appeared from under Harry's cloak.

"How the hell did he miss you?" Harry asked incredulously. "I thought we were done for."

Katie looked at Harry with inquisitive eyes, as if trying to see if there was anything different about him. Suddenly her eyes lit up and her mouth formed into a smile. "It's the armour, it must be. He can't see through dragon hide. We'll have to remember that."

She looked over her shoulder and listened for any sounds.

"I'll have to be quick; no telling when he'll be back. Listen, the pepper-up potion will only work against exhaustion if your body is hydrated. In this night air you loose almost half again the fluids you lose during a normal day. That's why the sleepers will all take turns to bring the candidates on guard duty something to drink."

She reached inside her own cloak and pulled a clay flask.

"I've brought you some tea; it's the best we could conjure up. Davies will be along half way through the night to bring you another and some food if we can manage it. But we're not sure where to get it."

"Why not try the kitchens? I'm sure the House-elves would love to help," Harry said.

"If only we knew where the kitchens are. I'm afraid that's one of Fred and George's best kept secrets."

"They're right beneath the Great Hall, behind the fruit painting in the corridor towards the Hufflepuff common room. All you have to do is tickle the pear. You can ask the House-elves for anything you want. If you have any problems, just ask for a House-elf named Dobby and tell him I sent you."

"Harry, I could just kiss you, you know?" Katie crowed.

"Well, Katie, it's not that you're not nice, but..." Harry stuttered.

"Oh Harry, get over yourself," Katie said her laugh disappearing into the castle halls.

*****

"How are things progressing?"

"Just as we expected. They're pulling together nicely; and I'm quite sure I saw Bell sneak off to Potter, so we don't have to worry about him being left out because he can't participate in the practical duelling exercises."

"You did treat him rather harshly, don't you think Alastor? Three nights in a row? That might be a bit much."

"I have to make sure the group takes him in, especially him. Best case scenario would be for all of them to rally around Potter. But whatever the case, he must not be seen as being coddled."

"I will leave it in your capable hands then and tell Madam Pomfrey to make sure there is an ample supply of pepper-up potion."

"There is just one thing that bothers me."

"And what is that, Alastor?"

"How the hell did Bell disappear like that? There was no way she could have slipped by me, and I couldn't see her hiding out anywhere near Potter."

"It is very educational to see that even you can be fooled sometimes. I think I will let our future Proctors keep their advantage... for now," Albus Dumbledore said while he leaned back in his chair, a smile forming on his lips and his eyes twinkling with mirth.