Harry Potter and the Path to Power

Chapter XXIII

Harry woke up with what seemed like all the muscles in his body cramped.

He had fallen asleep sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace of the Proctor Common room. He vaguely remembered restless sleep and agitated dreams, but could not remember what they had been about.

After spending the evening in Gryffindor Tower with his friends, whose behaviour could be called odd and circumspect at best, he had come back here. Unable to get to sleep, he had sat in front of the fire, pondering.

Besides a tendency to mother him even worse than usual, Hermione had been decidedly unhappy about the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher.

She had gone off about the fallacies of religion and the reasons for banning it from a classroom without appeal.

When one of the fourth years had irritably said that the Path of the Guiding Light was a very worthy belief, and that she would do good to learn before she judged, Hermione had torn into him with a vengeance. She cited philosopher after philosopher, using their musings as her weapons and lectured the various dangers coming with the particular practise of teaching any kind of belief in a schoolroom instead of facts. She had almost brought the boy to tears when she ended on the particularly vicious note that "God is dead" which sounded like another quote.

Harry had his doubts about the seriousness of her arguments, but had to admire the fire with which she preached her own form of gospel. Most of her arguments had been logical as far as Harry could follow and deduce, although he doubted some of the facts she had claimed, finding them too extreme to be likely. The quote 'give them to me while they're young, and I'll have them for life' seemed a bit far fetched; Harry couldn't really imagine anyone thinking like that... only after a while, he realised he probably easily could.

He walked to his room, trying to get the blood flowing in his painful limbs again. A quick shower brought relief as the heat from the water seeped into his muscles. He dressed, not really paying attention to what he was wearing, but grabbing the first thing at hand.

He left his room at the same time as Howard Everard, the 7^th Gryffindor Proctor.

"Morning, Potter. Ready for another year at Hogwarts?"

"Ready for your last year then?" Harry asked back.

"Merlin, don't remind me. I don't know what I hate more, the idea of NEWTs or actually leaving this place afterwards."

They walked down to breakfast, talking about what they loved about Hogwarts. Everard was one of those people you couldn't help but like, with an infectious smile and a wicked sense of humour.

Hermione was already sitting at the Gryffindor table and Harry joined her, forgoing the Proctor table.

"I don't know how they're going to get Ron out of bed," Hermione said, munching on some toast between conversation, "now that you're not there to wake him up."

"Speak of the devil," Harry answered and pointed to the main doors.

Ron was being brought in, apparently still asleep, by Seamus and Dean. They half dragged, half carried him towards the Gryffindor table where they dropped him onto the bench opposite his two friends where the redhead continued his sleep.

"Oh, really," Hermione huffed, "I know he's a sound sleeper, but this is ridiculous."

"You're not kidding," Dean said, "I swear he didn't open his eyes between the time we dragged him out of bed and pushed him into the showers until he came back and fell back on his bed."

"He has classes in twenty minutes, he still has to eat," Hermione said while looking at Ron exasperated. "How did you get him to wake up, Harry?"

"Simple," Harry said with a smile twitching at his lips. He bent forward towards Ron. "Ron, hey Ron... food."

"Food?" Ron said with a snort as he immediately woke up.

"How'd I get here?" he asked confused. He did not wait for an answer though and ignored the people around him laughing. With a happy smile he started loading food on his plate.

*****

Ron was staring at his roster in shock. "They have got to be kidding, double Potions on Friday afternoon? Please tell me this is a joke?" he said, looking up pleadingly at Harry and Hermione.

"Sorry Ron, it's real," Harry said while studying his own schedule. Divination had been removed and a quick look on Ron's parchment told him that those periods had been filled in with an 'extra-curricular studies' notation, and Care of Magical Creatures had been noted as an optional class for him.

"Well, at least Wednesday morning promises to be easy," Ron muttered, "History of Magic to start with, followed by Divination, also known as sleeping in and telling fairytales. Aren't we lucky, mate," he said to Harry.

"Well...I...," Harry muttered, an embarrassed half grin on his face.

Hermione's head flew up immediately upon hearing his tone of voice. "You did it, didn't you?" she asked breathlessly.

Both Ron and Harry looked at her, confused.

"Did what?" Harry asked, almost happy for the distraction.

"You finally did it; you dropped Divination, didn't you? I've been waiting for more than a year now for you to wise up, and you finally did it. Oh Harry, what did you take instead? Arithmancy? It'd be hard, but I bet you could catch up if you apply yourself," she blurted out in a breathless rant until at the end her face dropped considerably and she asked in an urgent tone: "You did drop it, didn't you, Harry?"

"Well..."

"Oh bloody hell, don't tell me I have to sit in that old goat's class by myself," Ron exclaimed.

"If you had just wised up like Harry here, you wouldn't have a problem right now, would you?" Hermione interrupted him. "You could have taken up a useful course; Muggle studies would have been good for you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ron asked indignantly. "Are you implying that I don't know enough about Muggles?"

"I'm not implying anything, I'm telling you," Hermione answered him sharply. "What you know of Muggles couldn't even fill a teaspoon."

"Are you calling me stupid?" Ron said raising his voice.

"Not stupid, just ignorant," Hermione said just as loud, her eyes blazing with anger.

"BOSSY KNOW-IT-ALL."

"IGNORANT LOUT."

And before Harry could do anything to calm them down his two friends had both stormed off, still shouting at each other until they separated after leaving the Great Hall.

He looked around the Gryffindor Table, a bit bemused, and saw many of his housemates looking back, all of them somewhere between amused and exasperated.

Unexpectedly, a silky sneering voice said behind him "Inform your friends that they have lost Gryffindor ten points each for shouting in the Great Hall, Potter," and then in a more hushed tone so that only he could hear, "The Headmaster wishes to see you after classes, report to his office." The voice carried an infinite amount of disgust while it delivered its message.

Snape.

*****

"Welcome to fifth year Transfiguration," McGonagall said immediately upon walking into the classroom. "I assure you this will be your hardest class this year. You will master various new techniques as well as revise everything you have learned so far in order to take your OWL exam. I hope I do not have to tell you how very important OWLs are, as they determine not only your further academic career, but also have great bearing on your career in life.

Depending on your score, you will be allowed to follow Advanced Transfiguration next year. I do however warn you that I require a minimum score of Exceeds Expectations. You will be able to find the grading curve on the pamphlet I will distribute at the end of class."

The stern teacher sat down behind her desk, adjusted her glasses, and continued rapidly speaking. "Please take out parchment and quill. I will dictate a rough schedule for the coming month. We will be revising elementary Transfiguration followed by our first new subject, namely vanishing. After that...

*****

"Alright students, attention please. I'm happy to see you all back for an exciting year of Herbology studies. I hope you all realise that this class will indeed be the most difficult of all your OWL classes. I take it you have by now all read the information on OWLs and I can tell you that if you want to participate in the NEWT course of this class, you will need at least an Exceeds Expectation for your OWL exam although individual students can be up for special consideration.

Now, Neville, if you would be so kind as to..."

*****

At lunch the fifth year was very subdued. The talk at the Gryffindor table was mainly dominated by one topic of conversation.

"Can you believe how much work they've given us already? And we're only just past the first half of the day," Dean sighed.

"I got a cramp in my hand from just writing down McGonagall's list," Ron put in, meanwhile flexing his hand.

"Just kill me now," Seamus agreed.

"Well, it's not all that bad," Hermione answered in a chipper voice. "We have a fairly decent grounding from the previous four years to build the new subjects on, so if you studied well, you shouldn't have any problems."

"I agree with Seamus," Lavender muttered, her head leaned against the tabletop, "just kill me now."

*****

At the end of an afternoon filled with more admonishments about how important OWLs were, long lists of work to be done, and even more talk of OWLs, Harry was ready for sleep, even if he had to miss dinner. Unfortunately, he had to make his way up to the Headmaster's office.

As he walked up to the Gargoyle, he became aware of a strange sensation, as if he could have pointed out exactly where Professor Dumbledore was at that very moment. Something very similar had happened during the Apprenticing Ceremony, although this was considerably weaker.

The Gargoyle sprung to life, even before he could give the password. Too tired to really try and figure it out, Harry rode the moving staircase upwards, happy for the rest. Once again the portraits in the staircase were talking amongst themselves; some even greeted him.

He politely knocked on the inner door.

"Come in," the muffled voice of the Headmaster sounded.

As Harry walked in, Dumbledore looked up over his half-moon shaped glasses and Harry was sure he saw a flicker of surprise and amusement.

"Harry, my boy, have my passwords become that easy for you to figure out? Because if I know our forgetful Professor Snape, he did not give it to you, for in fact, he did not ask me for it."

"No, Sir," Harry answered, a bit puzzled. "When I arrived the Gargoyle let me enter without a password."

"It did, now did it? Oh my," Dumbledore said in a tone that suggested that he was trying to figure something out.

More than a minute passed and Harry was beginning to feel a tad uncomfortable being under the Headmaster's scrutiny without being asked any question.

"Ah," Dumbledore exclaimed, "I think I have the answer. I should have anticipated this, but alas, an old man cannot keep track of everything."

Harry almost snorted out his amusement as he was quite sure that Dumbledore did indeed keep track of almost everything that happened at Hogwarts, but just sometimes chose not reveal it. Of course, there were always things that could slip by him and he could be fooled; he knew only to well that the wizened old wizard was far from perfect.

"Then what is it, Sir?" Harry asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. It's the apprentice bond, my boy. Well, it's the apprentice bond and my bond with Hogwarts actually.

You see, every Headmaster is bonded to Hogwarts, part of its magic as it were. Because you are now my apprentice and our magic is linked, a part of my bond with Hogwarts must have trickled down to you, or the castle recognizes you as being bonded to me at the very least. How very fascinating."

For a moment Professor Dumbledore seemed to be staring out into space, then he came back to his senses.

"Hmm, yes, well. Why did I ask you to come here? Oh yes. I wanted to discuss your schedule further.

I estimate that it will take at least another three to five weeks before you can begin to cast magic beyond the simplest of things without my direct presence and help.

Therefore you will not be able to do anything on the practical side of learning in normal lessons.

What we will do is simple; during your classes you will study the theoretical material unless otherwise directed by your teachers. You will learn it and remember it. At the end of every day we will try to work through the practical side of your lessons together. I hope you understand that this will not always be possible every day, so we might have to work on weekends as well. I'm sorry for that, but I do hope you appreciate that with things being as they are, my attention is often demanded elsewhere."

"Yes, Sir. I wanted to ask you about that... how are things... out there?" Harry tentatively asked. It was strange, he had not wanted to ask these questions until yesterday afternoon, after his lesson with Dumbledore, but he had been too exhausted then. What was it that Dumbledore had said? That the lesson had burned away the last of the wards placed on him?

His train of thought was interrupted by the Headmaster's sigh. "If only we knew. We're trying to find out what Voldemort is doing and so far we have discovered a lot of his seemingly smaller operations; recruitment, blackmail, spying; nothing too overt yet, he's keeping a low profile. We saw this at the beginning of his first rise as well, although we didn't recognize it as such at the time.

The thing that bothers me is that we know he's doing something else, something bigger, but we can't seem to get near that particular project. He seems to be a lot more subtle this time around."

"And what is the Ministry doing? Have they warned people? Are they hunting Voldemort?"

"I'm afraid Minister Fudge is still quite adamant in his denial of Voldemort's return. In fact, he is leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to mention anything of the sort," Dumbledore sighed. "The fact that Voldemort has done nothing to arouse the suspicion of the general public isn't helpful in that regard, although I think it would be a strange thing to hope for something noticeable."

"What? Why? How can they not..." Harry sputtered, too surprised and angry to express what he wanted to say.

"Minister Fudge sees any attempts at informing the public as an undermining of his authority. I'm not even sure if he believes we are lying -and yes, I do mean we, he has been just as slighting towards you as he has been towards me- or, even worse, believes us, but has chosen a most dangerous course of denial."

"But you are warning people, right? People need to know, Professor, they have to prepare themselves," Harry pleaded.

"Yes, we are warning people, Harry, but only small groups and individuals.

There isn't a large publication out there that doesn't have Minister Fudge leaning heavily on them to not repeat anything we say, or investigate the few shreds of evidence that are out there.

The saddest part of all is that I have had more than a few letters from parents of students. My warning to your fellow students last year was met with anger, fright and denial."

"But they have to know..."

Dumbledore held up his hand to forestall the rest of Harry's comment.

"I know, my boy, I know. But the fact is that our world is not ready for the truth. The only reaction would be fear and rejection; perhaps even aggression towards those who bring them this dark message.

People are, sadly enough, completely capable of denying that which they do not wish to be true with a vigour I wish they would apply to other things."

"But what are we going to do then?" Harry asked, frustrated.

"For now, we work behind the scenes. Warning those that need to know and can make a contribution, and we prepare the public. We spoon feed them the truth bit by bit."

"But that will take too long," Harry said, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Still, it is the best we can do for now."

"I know I'm only a student, Professor, but if there is anything I can do...

Well, let's just say I've got a feeling that Voldemort does not think highly of me."

"Your offer is greater than you think, Harry. Remember that you are Lord Potter now, and as such have a substantial amount of recourses at your disposal, not to mention that in time you will have influence."

Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, then sighed.

"As much as I dislike doing this, it might be important to take you up on your offer. You'll need to build up that influence though. In the long run, I still think the Wizards' Council is our best chance. "

Dumbledore again seemed to take a moment to collect his thoughts. As Harry sat there he was a bit surprised, he had never seen the Headmaster think out things so carefully.

"A date has been set for the first gathering of the Wizards' Council. December 21, the winter solstice to be exact. As a candidate member you have a right to be there and I think it might be a good idea to attend if only to make sure that people are fully aware that the House of Potter once again has a ruler.

That means we have approximately three and a half months to make sure you know what to do with any circumstance that may occur.

I have selected a number of tutors for you that will instruct you in a number of different fields, all are diverse, and all are important.

Put on top of the imperative need for you to learn to control your magic, I doubt you will have much free time... I feel I can not tell you to do this, although it would be in my right, but I do ask you; are you willing?"

Harry looked Dumbledore in the eye and the Headmaster returned his gaze frankly.

The bright blue eyes contained no malice, but for the first time Harry could see the pressure and burdens under which the old wizard worked.

"I'll do what is necessary."

*****

Harry sat behind his desk in the quiet of his own room.

Dumbledore and he had made a list for the coming months. Magic, politics, etiquette, heraldry, his duties as a Proctor, Quidditch, normal school lessons... the list seemed endless.

They had been about to outline a day to day schedule when the head of a man Harry did not know had appeared in the fireplace, urgently calling for the Headmaster.

The old wizard had requested Harry try to make the schedule himself and Harry was attempting to, but a large part of the problem was that he did not know who half his teachers would be for the outer-curricular lessons. He had no idea how to find out when to place those lessons.

Even if he had, it didn't seem like there was enough time in one day, week, or month.

Frustrated, he threw down his quill. He massaged his temples and desperately wished for a drink.

Pacing up and down his room a few times, he reached a decision.

He opened his closet and randomly picked out a cloak and thick sweater. Gregory and his House-elves had been producing a steady stream of clothing, so Harry had enough to choose from. All of it was black, as he had ordered, but a lot of it also had small decorations on it; mostly the Potter Crest or a variation on it.

After considering for a moment he pinned on his Proctor badge and left his room, briskly walking towards the exit of the common room.

"Where you going, Potter?" Katie Bell asked in a friendly tone. She was sitting in one of the large comfortable seats next to the fireplace.

"I need some air, you wouldn't believe the amount of work Dumbledore is making me do," Harry only half lied.

"Okay, but don't make it too late. I think I heard Angelina say something about a team meeting after class tomorrow. She's been made captain."

"Good for her. I'll remember," Harry replied as he walked past the two suits of armour at the exit.

He made a straight line towards the main doors. As he walked through the entrance hall he was surprised by a voice calling after him "Hey, Harry, where are you going?"

"Ron! Bloody hell, what are you trying to do? Kill me? I think you just scared a couple of years off my life."

"Sorry, mate, didn't mean it that way," Ron said with a big grin.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Harry asked.

"Patrolling, one of the many duties that come with the wonderful position of being a Prefect," Ron said with a sarcastic bite. "You're not armoured up and I just saw Pereson making his rounds, so where are you going?" Ron asked interestedly.

Harry considered lying for a moment, but didn't feel like it, not to his best friend, not with their already strained relationship. He looked about for a moment to make sure no one was around and then dragged Ron off to a corner.

"I have to get out of here, Ron. Just for a couple of hours. You understand, don't you?" he said with a desperate note.

Ron looked at him strangely for a moment. "Where are you going?"

"Hogsmeade, just for a couple of hours."

"Alright, let's go," Ron said with another one of his big grins.

"What?"

"Well, you didn't think I'd let you go alone, did you? What kind of friend would I be if I let you go to our first night visit to Hogsmeade by yourself?"

"What about your patrol?"

"This was my last stop; I was going back to the tower after this. Hermione is still acting all prickly around me, so I doubt anyone would miss me."

"Alright then, what are we waiting for?" Harry asked with his first real smile in some time.

The two boys left Hogwarts through the front door and walked right out the front gate, something not even George and Fred had tried; but of course, they were neither Prefect nor Proctor.

*****

Hogsmeade looked different in the darkness of night.

The street was only illuminated slightly by the moon, stars and candlelight that shone through the windows of houses and stores that were still opened. The streets were quiet and only a few people could be seen walking, usually in a hurry.

"Where are we going?" Ron asked.

"I need a drink," Harry grumbled.

"Butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks then?"

"No, Madam Rosmerta knows our faces. I'm not sure what she'd do if she saw Hogwarts students at this time of night."

"Fred and George said they go to the Hog's Head when they sneak out at night. A bit of a rough crowd according to them, but nobody asks questions."

"The Hog's Head it is then," Harry said and started walking towards the far end of town.

As they walked up the side street on which the smaller inn was located they could hear muffled sounds of people talking loudly, breaking glass, and music that seemed to come from a hundred year old radio.

They came upon a slightly rundown building with a sign hanging from it. Upon the signboard was a picture of the severed head of a wild boar, leaking blood on a white cloth around it.

"This must be it then," Harry said.

Ron suddenly seemed quite unsure of the wisdom of entering an establishment with such a sign at that time of night. "Are you sure you want to go in there?" he asked.

After a moment, Harry nodded, and pushed open the door. Ron followed.

As they entered the inn, no one seemed to pay them any attention. There was only one room. In it was a bar and several tables. The people there seemed to be drinking heavily and the drinks were as varied as the patrons themselves. There was only one bartender, a grumpy looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard.

He looked at the two boys suspiciously but his entire expression changed as they took of their cloaks.

"Welcome to the Hog's Head, young Masters," the man said with a gruff voice. "We don't get many Hogwarts students, but they're welcome. Especially the likes of you," he said with a respectful nod to Harry. "What will it be? Something to warm you up on this chilly night?"

"A Butterbeer would be good," Ron said.

"Butterbeer?" the bartender asked with a perplexed expression. He turned around and scanned the bar twice before opening a small cabinet at the far end.

"One Butterbeer," he said, saying 'Butterbeer' like it was a strange word as he planted a dusty bottle in front of Ron. "And what's your pleasure tonight, Milord?"

"Scotch for me," Harry said, having decided he liked the taste of it better than Firewhiskey.

"A much better choice if you ask me. Best bottle of the house, of course. Let me see."

The man ducked beneath the bar and shortly returned with a green bottle with a white label.

"It's the best I have, Milord."

A bit surprised by the service, Harry nonetheless nodded and asked for a glass.

"Uhmm, yeah, a glass for me, too," Ron said, his eyes as large as saucers.

As the bartender produced two low, cylinder shaped glasses, Ron swiped the bottles away and headed for a table in a hurry. Harry produced five galleons from his pocket and threw them on the counter, then picked up the glasses.

"There's no need for you to pay, Milord."

For a moment Harry hesitated and looked at the man, he wondered what was going on; he couldn't imagine this man having a problem with hero worship.

"I insist on paying for my drinks, but thank you all the same," he said, with a polite smile.

"As you wish, Milord," the bartender said with a smile and a small bow with his head as he whisked away the coins with a practiced move. He seemed a bit familiar as he smiled.

Harry walked over to the table in the corner that Ron had procured and set down the glasses. Ron was already very busy draining his bottle of Butterbeer, gulping the frothy liquid down without pause.

"I can't believe he gave us whiskey, just like that," he said excitedly after the last gulp.

"They don't ask many questions here, Ron," Harry answered while pouring the glasses. He hesitated with the second glass for a moment, not sure if he should, but decided it was Ron's own choice.

He took a glass and carefully sniffed it, not too sure about anything served in a place like this.

The aroma was a pleasant surprise, smoky and salty. The taste was even better, smooth and with a long palate of taste. He was now even more grateful to Sirius for introducing him to real whiskey, and the rudimentary lessons on how to appreciate the smoky liquor.

He looked at the bottle. The scotch was called Laphroaig, and was a fifteen year old single malt. According to the label it was an 'Islay Malt' and he could almost taste the sea.

He was distracted by a sudden coughing at his side and he saw that Ron had guzzled down his glass in a single swallow.

"Take it easy, Ron. This isn't Firewhiskey. You're not supposed to drink it all in one go," he said with a smirk and patted the back of his coughing friend.

"That's strong stuff," Ron wheezed. "Give me another one."

Amused, Harry refilled Ron's glass and this time his friend took a sip. His face contorted and he said "And you really like drinking this stuff?"

"It's an acquired taste," Harry deadpanned. "It takes some getting used to."

Harry then set to drinking at a steady pace, refilling their glasses. Not much talking was done and they mainly looked at the other customers.

*****

"Y'know, this is goo stuff..." Ron slurred, "when ya get used tooo i' anywayss."

Harry nodded. He was finally starting to relax; he had been needing this for a couple of days now. He was wondering if he could get away with keeping a bottle in his room at Hogwarts. It'd solve some of his problems.

"C'me'n mate, were in Ho-hogsmead a' night, have some bloo'y fun. Fred and George are gonna be so jealous."

"I'm sure they've been here plenty of times, Ron." Harry smiled.

With a sigh, Harry started to pull on his cloak, wondering if Ron would be able to walk back to the castle without help. At any rate, it was high time to go.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" said a voice behind him.