Harry Potter and the Path to Power

Chapter XXII

Harry was up early, especially for a Sunday.

After making use of his private bathroom, one of the better perks of being a Proctor according to Harry, he made his way up the winding stairs of the South Tower.

Dumbledore had insisted Harry do some of the exercises he had taught him on his own every day, and Harry liked the solitude of the top of the windy tower.

Even though it was only the beginning of September, summer was rapidly vanishing and the days were becoming cool, even for this region of Scotland.

Harry, however, refused to let it bother him.

He found that the quiet hour spent on top of the tower doing breathing routines and going through mental exercises cleared his head and helped him to accept the changes that had come into his life.

Sounds started to drift upwards, and when Harry looked over the battlements he could see two figures down below attacking each other with staffs. Apparently, someone took the position of Proctor very seriously.

He was too far up to identify who they were; he could only see that one was a woman because of the long, dark hair. The staffs flashed at each other in an increasing tempo, the figures dancing around each other. Practise, obviously, made perfect, or at least increased skill.

He'd have to look into joining them.

*****

Harry headed towards the Great Hall for a quick breakfast. When he arrived he saw that most of Gryffindor House was present including Fred and George, whose smiles immediately turned into identical grins when they saw him.

Harry thought about running for his life, or at least his dignity, but Hermione had already spotted him and was waving him over to the spot she had saved him.

Fred and George both got up.

"Make way, make way," one of them, probably Fred, started to shout in an affected voice.

"Make way for the Mighty Lord of Potter," George chimed in, the mischievous grin on his face belying the tone of his voice.

"The Boy-Who-Lived," Fred continued, starting to make overstated bows to Harry.

"Member of the Wizards' Council," George said, also performing genuflections.

"Apprentice of the most powerful wizard in the world."

"Defeater of You-Know-Who."

"Slayer of Basilisks."

"Proctor."

"Seeker extraordinaire."

"Wielder of the mighty wand."

"And all around nice guy," they finished together.

With a face as red as it had ever been, Harry took a seat at the breakfast table and waited for the inevitable further teasing, but all he got was a lot of amazed looks: "You defeated a Basilisk?" A third year piped up.

But before he could even begin to diffuse that situation, Colin Creevy squeaked a much, much worse question: "You have a mighty wand?"

*****

"...and breathe out. Remember to keep control as you cast... and cast," Dumbledore's tranquil voice echoed through Harry's consciousness.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Harry incanted as he swished his wand. The feather in front of him rose swiftly into the air, dancing through the room at Harry's wand movements.

"Very good, Harry, very good. I think we've made our beginning," Dumbledore complimented.

Harry did not allow the generous words to disturb his concentration, he had learned his lesson.

He flicked his wand downwards, directing the feather back to the floor.

"In time, your mind will learn enough discipline that you will not have to concentrate this much, but will return to your previous levels. I do think you will have to learn how to exactly level the power you put into a spell, something you would have been taught in your sixth year anyway, it will just come earlier."

When Harry finally released the feather from his gaze and moved his eyes towards Dumbledore, he saw that the wizened wizard was already at his desk. Harry could still be amazed at how swift and silent the old man could move.

"Take a seat, Harry. I wanted to talk to you about the courses you'll be taking this year."

Harry took a seat in front of the massive desk, its surface cluttered with a mass of papers.

Dumbledore, however, didn't seem to hesitate for a second and pulled a sheet from out of the middle of a particularly precariously balanced stack.

"You are, of course, taking the mandatory courses: Transfiguration, Charms, Defence against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology, History of Magic and Astronomy. You seem to be doing better than average in everything except Potions and History of Magic, although not exceptional.

Most of your teachers have noted that you seem not to fully apply yourself and that there is room for much improvement, not that I blame you, not many wish to apply themselves to study at your age... outside of Ravenclaw that is.

Although, Remus was very complimentary of your exploits in Defence Against the Dark Arts. We'll just leave out the comments that Severus made, shall we?

Now, your electives are Care of Magical Creatures and Divination." Dumbledore looked up over his moon shaped spectacles after mentioning that last course.

"Tell me Harry, why did you select Divination?"

Harry looked at his shoes, flushing red. "Because...," he steeled himself and blurted out "because Ron said it'd be an easy mark."

"Well, I'm very happy to hear that," Dumbledore answered to Harry's surprise. "I feared that you might believe in learning actual divination. It is an art not easily learned except for those very few already gifted. I do not think any now residing at Hogwarts have the ability to learn... Although...," Dumbledore murmured medatively.

He then seemed to return to the present and continued.

"You'll continue following your mandatory courses, of course. As for your electives..., I'm introducing some new studies into your program.

I will be tutoring you, when I can, in control of your magic and your magical mandatory courses as well as some other things that are not on the Hogwarts Standard Comprehensive Curriculum as I promised you when you agreed to become my apprentice.

I will see if I can get someone to tutor you in History of Magic; because, Harry, your grades are not what they should be. There will be a special part of that tutoring concentrating on the History of House Potter, the History of the Wizards' Council, and the Secret Histories, those that have been locked away and restricted."

Harry's curiosity was immediately piqued. Secret Histories? He'd bet his broom there would be a lot less Goblin Rebellions in that. But why were they secret?

"Furthermore, I think we can not get an early enough start on teaching you the intricacies of politics in the magical world. I had hoped you would be older when this day arrived, that we would have more time, but the resurrection of Voldemort has forced my hand once more.

You'll need a lot of background information first; I'll see if I can find someone who can tutor you in that. Yes, I might have some ideas in that area."

Harry had half expected, half feared most of these things.

Expected, because he was beginning to see glimpses of how his life had changed; and what was in his future, what more would change. Feared, because he had no idea how he was going to fit it all into his schedule without losing sleep.

"You'll have to drop Divination. I'm afraid there is little other choice. I leave the choice of keeping Care of Magical Creatures to you, although I would advise you to drop it.

I'm sure we can find a way around the loss of those two OWLS; maybe we can have you do a few exams in other, non-standard subjects. That should be possible to arrange with enough commitment from your side. "

Dumbledore fixed Harry with a stern gaze. Harry swallowed, and nodded his understanding of the importance of this point.

After being satisfied, Dumbledore nodded back and rose from his desk in one fluent movement and headed towards the door, signalling Harry to follow him.

****

As Harry and Professor Dumbledore walked through the hallways of Hogwarts they passed several students who all stared after them. It made Harry conscious of the fact that yet another thing was added to the list of things that drew attention to him and made him stand out.

As they moved down stairs and corridors there seemed to be less and less students walking the hallways, and as they entered an older looking part of Hogwarts, none were to be seen at all.

The two entered a room that seemed to be even older, or at least even more run down, than the rest of this section of the castle. It was much longer than it was wide and seemingly darker at the end.

"This section of the castle is amongst the oldest and is beyond some of the newer wards. This particular room is built right into the bedrock on which the castle lies. Simply put, a blind dragon couldn't do much damage in this room."

Harry could see that the far side of the room was indeed sheer rock. It looked as if it had been hollowed with explosions in some places and had melted away in others. It was also scorched, even if the black soot had faded and was partly overgrown with mould.

On his left, built into the wall, was a large fireplace.

Harry shivered slightly. The room was cold and damp. Harry wondered why Dumbledore did not light the fireplace.

He considered doing it himself, but he had recently noticed that if there were older wizards and witches in the company, spells were either left to the host, or the more powerful witch or wizard.

"Harry, I am going to teach you something new today.

This room was used in times past to teach some of the practical application of the Dark Arts. I will not teach you those, although some things I will teach you are considered Dark by those who have neither knowledge nor understanding.

I will teach you Wizard's Fire."

Ever since Dumbledore had mentioned this ominous sounding spell, Harry had been curious. He couldn't remember ever hearing a reference to it.

As Dumbledore set about drawing a simple chair and stool out of thin air, he continued to explain.

"Wizard's Fire can be very destructive. It is not like any fire you have ever seen, not even the magical fire you learned in your second year holds a candle to this. Wizard's Fire is gifted with purpose, gifted by the wizard that creates it. Wizard's Fire has been said to have a soul all of itself and it will seek out its target with a vengeance, its only purpose is to destroy.

Sit down, Harry," Dumbledore said with a wave at the stool while he himself sat in the chair.

"Normally, I would not teach this to a young wizard, not even you. Preferably I would not even teach it to an old wizard either. But as is often the case in life an exception has to be made. I think it will have added benefits for you; you will find out what, later," the Headmaster said before Harry could ask.

Dumbledore's eyes took on a very serious demeanour and the shadows around him seemed to darken, the magic around the old wizard became more palpable. "Let me warn you of the consequences of misusing Wizard's Fire. I have seen it used on human beings but twice in my life and would never wish to see it again. It is a terrible thing to behold; Wizard's Fire can eat through wood, through thick stone walls, even through metal. If brought into contact with flesh, even if only a smallest of sparks, it will ultimately consume the entire person: skin, muscle and bones.

It cannot be doused by normal means, not water, not earth; nothing can stop it, because it has a purpose."

Harry nodded, caught up in Dumbledore's words.

"Wizard's Fire is not cast with a wand; it is a manifestation from deep inside the wizard. Keep your hands up, about a foot apart. Like that, good. Now, lose yourself in my eyes," Dumbledore said in a voice that had a definite magical quality.

Harry looked into the Headmaster's light blue eyes and felt himself fall deeply.

"I want you to put anger into it. Remember Voldemort... remember Vernon Dursley... what they did to you. Imagine what you would like to do to them, let it all go. Remember the anger, the rage. Feel that anger, feel its heat. Feel its consuming flames. Now, channel those flames into the space between your hands. ... Now... look between your hands," Dumbledore whispered in an urgent and commanding voice.

Harry looked down and to his amazement saw a ball of yellow and blue fire circling lazily between his hands. He could feel warmth, but not heat.

"Now," Dumbledore, said in the same voice, "throw it into the fire place."

Harry pulled back his hand and with one fell move hurled the ball of fire into the fire place.

It hit the back with a crack, leaving a few flames behind. The room seemed to warm up instantly.

"Was that Wizard's Fire?" He asked in awe.

"That, my dear boy, was to Wizard's Fire what an annoyed fly is to an angry bull," Dumbledore chuckled. "But you threw it like a natural. We'll make a wizard out of you yet."

Then Dumbledore gave Harry a searching look. "How do you feel? And I want you to really think about that question."

Harry had been about to give an obligatory 'fine', but stopped at Dumbledore's request.

"I feel... better... less... stressed and angry? As well as more energetic I think," he said in a puzzled voice.

"The second is easier to explain than the first. With what you have just done, you have flushed most of the residue form the wards I placed on you at The Burrow out of your system; you should now have full access to your magic again, except for those restrictions I place on it through our bond."

Harry smiled as he understood. He felt more complete than he had in weeks.

"As for the first... look at it like this: sometimes you have the need to hit something, if only a wall or a door. This is like that, too; with the way your emotions and magic are interconnected you need to hit something from time to time in a magical sense."

"So are you telling me I should control it... or that when I feel like hitting something, I should hit it?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"We have urges for a reason, Harry; we also have our rational mind. Living is a question of balancing the two and knowing when to follow which. This room is where you can give into those urges from time to time," Dumbledore said with a small smile tugging at his lips.

"After you learn to do what you just did on your own, you can come down here anytime to practise or give into hitting something. There is one restriction though; you may never bring anyone here. Wizard's Fire is just too dangerous."

"I understand," Harry said and nodded.

"Do you, Harry? Do you really?" And with those words Dumbledore held his hands about two feet apart and Harry saw a small ball of fire spring to life.

The ball of yellow fire grew larger and began to spin at an increasing pace creating a howling noise. As it grew, first as large as a dog, then to the size of a small horse and the howling became painfully deafening, Harry looked away and covered his ears. Then, just as Harry looked back, Dumbledore pushed it away with an angry grunt and directed it to the far wall.

As the ball of Wizard's Fire hit the far wall it burst open and spread along almost the entire wall. Harry could feel the immense heat and his eyes were irresistibly drawn to the explosion; he saw that the mould had been evaporated instantaneously, and the rapidly disappearing fire was now eating away part of the bedrock, it was that hot.

"Maybe now you understand," Dumbledore said with a slight pant, "Wizard's Fire is always cast in anger."

*****

Harry made his way up to the Proctor dormitories, determined to lie in a hot bath until dinner.

Dumbledore had him cast Wizard's Fire again and again, until he could do it without help, even if barely more than a spark appeared. It had taken hours, they had even skipped lunch. He was exhausted. Maybe he would just skip dinner too, or just sneak down to the kitchens and eat alone.

As he walked in, most of the others were sitting around or strapping on the last of their armour. His own armour was lying on one of the tables.

"Potter, finally. Get into your gear," Smythe said in a hurried voice, "We just got word from McGonagall. The two new teachers are arriving tonight instead of tomorrow morning. They're throwing together a feast as we speak and we're supposed to show up in armour."

As the Ravenclaw and provisional commander of the Protectorate Council spoke, several of the other Proctors were already clasping on Harry's armour. He became very distracted when the person behind him softly spoke into his ear: "Always making a grand entrance, aren't you, Potter? Been off defeating another Dark Lord, were you? Or were you wrestling a ghoul? You sure smell like it."

It was not the words or the scathing tone that distracted him so much, as it was the fact that Blaise had whispered the words very close to him, her breath tickling his ear and neck.

In less than no time Harry was fully suited and the Proctors made their way to the Great Hall.

Most of the students were already there, excited about the impromptu feast, the second in as many days.

As he walked past his friends, who looked at him questioningly, he gave them a small smile.

He took his position just in time to see the doors to the Great Hall swing open and two witches enter.

Both were clad in very loose grey robes with pulled up hoods.

As they walked up to the High Table he briefly saw their faces.

One was tall and had a pretty face and he could see strands of blond hair. She had an optimistic if somewhat sedate smile, quite different from the woman next to her. Her eyes sparkled and seemed to look curiously at the world. She was the younger of the two by far.

The other woman was significantly smaller and wore a seemingly permanent grim expression on her plain face, the small wiry glasses she wore only contributed to this appearance. Harry thought that when the searching eyes of the older woman saw him, or rather the coat of arms on his chest, her face became even grimmer and her mouth curled up in disapproval.

Both stopped short of the Proctor table, which was empty, and looked up to Dumbledore.

"May the light shine upon you, Professor Dumbledore, and bless your school. We came early as an unexpected high tide forced us to leave ahead of schedule. We are ready to serve this school and spread the Guiding Light," the elder spoke as both witches made slight, formal bows

The Headmaster stood and made a gesture to the two empty chairs at the High Table.

"Please be seated. If you'll allow me, I'll introduce you to my eagerly curious students."

Both witches nodded and took their seats in silence. Dumbledore turned to the Hall.

"It is my pleasure to introduce the two newest additions to our teaching staff.

As it was very difficult to find someone to fill the Defence against the Dark Arts position, the Ministry was kind enough to offer and negotiate for the services of Sister Fiona Ellbridge of the Order of the Sisters of the Guiding Light.

As Hagrid's return has been postponed, her apprentice, Desiree Eravi has kindly offered to fill in for him."

A polite applause sounded from the students in the Hall. As Professor Dumbledore was about to give the signal to start the feast, Sister Fiona rose from her chair and with another shallow bow to Dumbledore asked: "Professor, would you allow me to address the students?"

Dumbledore, obviously surprised, sat down and waved his acquiescence.

Sister Fiona turned back towards the Great Hall and in a clear voice that reached all corners of the room spoke: "The Sisters of the Guiding Light have long not been amongst those not of our Order. In light of recent events, our Abbess decided to agree to the Ministry's request for teachers.

I will strive to teach you as much as I can, and so will my apprentice. However, knowledge without wisdom is dangerous, and we will not only teach you spells and facts.

We will teach you the Path of the Guiding Light, a path all wizards and witches should follow. Society has lost it moral compass. But I fervently hope that it may not be too late for the young to learn the proper path.

Not only will we be teachers, we will be spiritual guides, and any and all in need of guidance, blessing or prayer, are free to see either of us at any time. Our offices, indeed our very quarters are open to you.

May the Guiding Light may shine on all here present."

A quiet and confused mutter sounded as Sister Fiona sat down again, but all Harry could see was Hermione's disapproving face.