The door clicked shut with a quiet thud and Barty allowed himself a long breath out. Playing the role had grown easier with time but the people…they were all so obsessed with such mundane, pointless governance. Who cared about banning flying carpets? Such inspired wizard culture should be exalted, not regulated.
He shook his head and quieted such thoughts. No matter how fierce the belief, it would only serve as a danger to his cover.
He moved across the room to his desk and made the window to the Atrium below opaque with a wave of his wand. He pulled his prize from his coat pocket and set it on the messy desktop with a hearty thunk. He stared down at it, considering.
Not for the first time, he wondered if his contingencies bordered on the absurd and wasted precious time. His plan for the prophecy had gone off flawlessly and he had been forced to dispose of his numerous backup plans. They had been decent enough pawns, open to bribes and manipulation, but the risk of someone discovering a modified memory was too great. Fortunately, the true loyalists that had been placed in various departments could handle the disposal work.
He drew his stolen wand, so tainted and inferior to his own, and touched the top of the container with it. He focused on something simple, rather than the more complex alteration he had in mind, and murmured the words. There was the telltale pulse of magic through the wand as he loosed the spell but the box remained unchanged.
He sneered at it, his back straightening in obstinate defiance. You didn't become one of the Dark Lord's most trusted advisors by folding at the first sign of strife. No, he would command this damnable inert box to do his bidding. Resistant or not, it would change at the whims of his magic, as was proper. Nothing existed in the world that could not be dominated by the unbridled power of magic; it was the will behind it that faltered.
He snarled the words again and pictured the change until a throbbing began at his temples.
The Dark Lord had entrusted him with this final task before the war the Ministry so keenly desired began. He would not falter.
XxX
"Something is troubling you," Luna said, each word in time with one of her steps.
The hall they walked down was mostly empty, save for the occasional Prefect or couple walking hand-in-hand, despite the persistent chill of the castle.
"I'm just thinking," Harry said, trying not to wince at the half-truth.
He was thinking, but the thoughts were troubling.
His most recent lesson with Dumbledore had been his last, though the Headmaster had promised to find Harry a new tutor. On the heels of that revelation, the following morning's post delivered another letter from the Minister, with a similar cordial invite as before. Then, between his lack of progress with his friends in trying to teach them what he learned, and Fleur's words nagging at him every time Luna seemed to swallow back a comment in favor of silence, he was feeling stretched to the point of transparency.
"How are you liking the study group?" he asked in what felt like a bumbling attempt to divert her. He should have waited for Fleur. She'd be much better at this sort of thing. She had helped him get over everything, after all.
"I don't have much to compare it to," Luna said, turning her head to the side as she talked, "so I can't say if it's a good study group or a bad one. I enjoy myself when I am there, though. It's fun to watch you all. You can be quite funny."
Harry tried not to frown as they took the final flight of stairs to the entrance. Every time he had tried to talk to Luna about how he had butchered his explanation of his outlook on things, he always felt as though he left the conversation having taken a few steps backwards. The words he needed to express himself were out there somewhere, why couldn't he find them?
Maybe Fleur would have an idea.
The hope carried him through the silence that surrounded him and Luna to where he usually met Fleur. The late February snow had melted as March settled in, a fact he was sure Fleur would appreciate. For as much as the cold seemed to bother her, it was a wonder she had agreed to come help tutor them in the first place.
They didn't have to wait long for her to appear. When she did, he was, as always, struck momentarily stupid by the sight of her. She resided in his thoughts most days, either in pleasant daydreams of their time alone in the Room of Requirement, or in the simple comforting memories of walks through the woods. It shouldn't be possible for him to forget how striking she could be, and yet even in the loose winter clothes she often wore to work and the simple tail she styled her hair into, tied by a black ribbon, he found himself short of breath and wits.
It wasn't until she smiled at him that he noticed the exhaustion tinting the tilt of her lips, shadowing her eyes, and pulling on her shoulders. A steady but slow hand produced her wand and tapped her ribbon, sending it spilling from black to a bright sunny yellow, out of place in the darkening evening.
"Did you transfigure that just now?" Luna asked, her voice shattering his quiet inspection and making him jump.
Maybe she wouldn't notice he'd forgotten she was there.
"I did not," Fleur said, her eyes darting over to Harry. He shrugged slightly, pulled his invisibility cloak out, and handed it to her. "It was a gift."
An apologetic smile accompanied her hand as she reached out to take the invisibility cloak. He couldn't help the disappointment that welled in him, though he was somewhat mollified when she reached out and momentarily squeezed his hand before donning the invisibility cloak.
"I forgot that you two were together," Luna said once they had started back to the castle. "You're so professional during our study sessions that it slipped my mind."
She paused for a moment, then slowly nodded her head.
"I suppose that if you were doing anything…couple-ish, I wouldn't be able to see it, would I?"
"Er…no, I suppose not," Harry said, turning once they had passed through the entrance doors and leading them up a nearby stairwell.
"Are you enjoying yourself otherwise?" Fleur asked as they entered a deserted corridor. "I know that studying during your free time can get tedious."
Luna didn't answer right away, instead opting to maintain her strange steps that placed her foot in the center of each stone as she walked. "Harry asked me something similar before," she said eventually. "Does it seem like I'm not enjoying myself? Do I not fit in?"
Harry opened his mouth to jump in but stilled when he felt an invisible hand on his shoulder.
"I was simply wondering because I find it a bit difficult to interject myself into the friendship that Harry has with Ron and Hermione, even with our relationship."
The desire to respond built inside Harry but he tamped it down when he heard a quick, relieved sigh from Luna.
"They are quite close," she said, though he heard the slight smile in her voice as he led them up another flight of stairs. "It can be fun to watch sometimes. Most especially when Ron and Hermione are having fun pretending to argue. It's less fun when they're arguing for real."
"It will just take some getting used to, I expect," Fleur said. "In the meantime, we should take solace in the fact that we have been asked to join them, and trust them when they say they want us there. Right, Harry?"
"Of course," he said, turning towards Fleur's voice, then Luna. "It wouldn't be the same without you."
Luna stared at him, then her lips lifted in a smile. "Even I know that's what you're supposed to say to your girlfriend."
"Well, yeah," Harry said, privately reveling in the quick sigh of pretend frustration he heard from Fleur. "But I meant both of you. It's nice having you there."
Luna didn't speak again until they came across the blank wall that secretly housed the entrance to the Room of Requirement and Harry had finished his concentrated pacing.
"Thanks for inviting me," she said, her hands clasped together in front of her, though she still wore the same partially-vacant expression he'd grown used to. "It's a lot of fun having something like this to do."
"I'm glad you think so," he said, pulling open the door and waiting until both Luna and Fleur were inside. "Even if I'm having trouble figuring out how to get us to make more progress."
He jumped at a slight pinch to his elbow. It had been a topic of frequent discussion on his and Fleur's near-nightly conversations on their notepaper, and one she had made clear that she believed he was worrying too much over.
But even if non-verbal magic was some of the most difficult kind to perform…surely they should have seen at least some progress. Though, as Fleur liked to point out, he had coached them well enough that both Hermione and Luna had managed to produce a silver mist for their Patronuses. A fact that Harry would have thought Ron would be a bit more touchy about, but he simply attributed it to their practice outside of their study sessions.
Ron and Hermione joined them after their Prefect rounds not long after, both in a far different mood than Harry had expected. Usually, their patrols of the castle left them embarrassed for the sort of activities they had to break up at night, or annoyed at each other for whatever bickering they had managed to do while walking.
This time, however, Hermione was vibrating with near combustible excitement and Ron could only manage a nervous smile.
"Fleur?" Hermione asked into the air as the door shut behind her. "Are you here already?"
"Yes," Fleur said, and Harry could hear the confused smile playing across her lips.
Hermione turned to Ron and said something inaudible, to which he nodded.
"Okay then," Hermione said, her smile growing into a full-blown grin. "Fleur, would you take off the cloak?"
" Quoi ?"
Harry heard the rustle of fabric as Fleur moved closer to him.
"Why is she doing this?" she whispered.
"I don't know," he whispered back. "But it looks to me like she's planning something. Maybe a spell she's learned?"
Fleur let out a noncommittal grunt before she spoke again. "Ron? Is this okay?"
Ron nodded with a smile that was spoiled slightly by his nervous fidgeting.
Fleur didn't appear and Harry was sure he could hear her mind working away beneath the invisibility cloak. He didn't know what Ron and Hermione were planning, but he knew for certain it wouldn't be anything bad.
" Trust them ," he whispered in French, leaning over towards where he had heard her voice. " They're your friends too ."
" I know. I- " She paused. "Thank you."
The air next to him shimmered, and the black boots she favored in the cold months popped into view, followed in quick succession by the rest of her. Her hair, despite its confinement in a tail, still clung to the cloak, though she made no move to detach the clingy strands. Instead, she balled the cloak in her hands in front of her and held it against her middle.
Harry looked over at Hermione, waiting for whatever it was she was going to do, but he found his friend staring at Ron, rather than performing some new spell. For his part, Ron was simply staring back at Fleur, a concentrated frown creasing his freckled brow.
"He is resisting ," Fleur murmured, her hands falling to her side. She shook herself, then switched to English. "You have learned Occlumency?"
"A bit…" Ron said, his eyes focused on Fleur. "It's hard to focus…but I'm getting it."
His frown flashed into a quick smile.
"Bit tricky to practice properly without someone to test against."
Harry suddenly felt foolish for not asking after Ron's sudden nightly reading habit.
"Your skill is impressive," Fleur said, her head tilted slightly to the side. "As is your concentration."
Luna looked on from the side, staring at Ron with that discerning yet vacant gaze of hers. Hermione, on the other hand, was beaming.
"He came to me just after Christmas and asked if I knew Occlumency. I've been practicing too, but I haven't really had anything to try it out on." She turned to smile fondly at Ron. "He said it wasn't fair that Harry couldn't have everybody around all at once, especially around the holidays, so he-"
" Hermione ," Ron cut in, his face flushing as he turned to glare at her.
All at once, the color in his face returned to normal and he turned to stare glassy-eyed at Fleur.
"I can learn some…some more, if you want me to…" he said, a few of his words hitching as they came out. "I know loads of s-spells."
Fleur's awestruck expression didn't fade as she unfolded the invisibility cloak and slipped it back over her head, though Harry was certain he heard a distinct sniffle once she was out of sight.
Ron shook himself once she vanished and the color returned to his cheeks in force.
"Sorry," he grumbled. "I couldn't get it back once I got distracted."
"No need to be apologetic," Fleur said quickly, her voice stronger than Harry had expected it. "It is frankly, incredible. There are a few people that I work with that are only slightly more proficient than you are. To have managed as much in just a few months is noteworthy."
"I told you," Hermione said, somehow both impossibly smug and complimentary at the same time.
Ron shrugged, then looked sheepishly at Harry. "It didn't seem fair that she had to hide just cause of me. I figured she's probably gonna be around for a while, so why not take care of it sooner rather than later."
Fleur let out a small laugh. "I suppose it would have grown tedious to be invisible every time we meet over the coming years."
The conversation faded from Harry's ears as something deep inside him stirred fitfully, brought to life from the warmth of casual implication and his own selfish desires. For an instant of unguarded imagination, he allowed himself to believe. A belief that, when even momentarily accepted, made his knees weak and his heart soar. Someone like her could want him.
The thick lump in his throat made it difficult to start their lesson but with prodding from his wonderful, patient girlfriend, he somehow managed to muddle through.
XxX
"What do you mean he is finished training you? What does that mean for our group?"
Fleur sat huddled against him, as was her penchant after the others had left following their study group. The customary fire blazed and their little couch filled with the warmth of the flames, and the far hotter sensation of her body pressed against his.
A chill followed when she pulled back to look at him, most of which was from the sudden lack of contact. He wanted to reach out and pull her back to him but restrained himself. He was lucky she wanted to touch him at all. No sense in pushing it.
"Dumbledore said somebody else is going to work with me," Harry said with a shrug, thinking back to the brief meeting he'd had with the Headmaster earlier that day. "He said things at the Ministry are getting too busy and that he just hasn't got the time."
Fleur let out a slow breath that seemed to deflate her. "I cannot argue with him. As thrilled as I am for the opportunity to be Madam Bones' assistant, it has been a challenging couple of weeks. She is constantly at odds with members of the ICW, though mostly due to miscommunication somewhere along the line. It is…chaotic, to say the least. I am unsurprised that Dumbledore grows even busier. I often see him with the Minister when they come to meet with Madam Bones."
Harry sank back into the couch, feeling the weight of another problem settle on him that he had managed to forget about. One that Fleur, apparently, could guess.
"You still have not sent your reply to the Minister?" she asked, scooting back against his side.
Through even the thick scent of burning logs, wisps of cinnamon drifted to him as she shifted. Her hair, silken and almost as warm as she was, draped across his skin as he rested his arm over her shoulders.
"No, not yet. I had hoped that he'd just forget as things got busier."
Fleur rested her hand on his knee and squeezed.
"I know you do not like it, but you are an important figure for the upcoming war. Even if you are not going to fight in it, Voldemort's defeat, however accidental, gives people hope."
A smile pulled at his lips and he shifted to look down at the top of her head.
"I'll bet it drives people at the Ministry nuts that you use his name so easily."
Even if he couldn't see it, he could hear the smile in her voice.
"You would think I am cursing at the top of my lungs. They are losing their minds because the people coming in with the ICW do not share your superstitions."
"They aren't my superstitions," he said. "Besides, weren't you the one who was saying there's power in a name?"
"Was I wrong?" she asked, shifting her head so that she could peer up at him. "He has a name with the power to instill such fear that people are afraid to speak it aloud. But not you."
Ocean-blue eyes searched his, an unknown storm churning behind them. He wanted to bend down, to close the distance between him and her perfect, pink lips.
But he just blinked at her, feeling foolish behind his silly round glasses and with his unkempt hair that touched the edges of his periphery.
She smiled at him, that private quirk of the corners of her mouth and playful narrowing of her eyes that set his blood aflame, only to be fed further when a hand curled around the back of his neck and pulled him down into a fervent kiss.
Lightning sparked in his brain as her mouth moved against his, a tender, restrained kiss that still banished thoughts from his mind. Her hand burned against the back of his neck; a heat to rival the fire coursing through his veins and sparked thunder in his ears.
His arm twitched with the desire to pull her against him, to take his free hand and match hers. To feel the heat of her skin beneath his fingers as he pulled her into a deeper kiss.
But he suppressed the desire, beyond content with what she gave him.
Her hand eventually relaxed its grip, and she ended the kiss with a caress of her tongue across his lip that made his stomach flip.
She grinned at his reaction, though the stormy ocean behind her eyes had settled into troubled waters.
"Is everything…okay, 'Arry?" she asked, kindly waiting until he had gotten his breathing under control.
"I mean…we were just kissing," he said, deciding not to fight against the goofy grin he felt jumping to his expression. "So I'd say things are pretty great."
The luminescent smile he received in return was worth the sappy words but it faded faster than he expected. Her hand twitched where it rested on his shoulder and she let it fall to her side.
"That is very sweet," she said. "But…I-I do not know how to put words to my thoughts."
" En Francais? " he suggested with a valiant attempt to keep his tone lighthearted.
" That's not it ," she answered in French, her hand moving to clasp his. "I…worry," she said, frowning, "that I might be moving too fast for you."
"Too…fast?" he echoed, dumbfounded. Hadn't he been the one holding tight to his desires?
She nodded, her gaze falling to his chest. "I am…tactile," she said haltingly, her voice strained. "I like to touch you." She raised their clasped hands as an example. "It was surprisingly tortuous today to have to hold back our usual greeting because Luna came with you."
"I missed it too."
A tremulous, fragile smile ghosted across her lips.
"But I would not have known. 'Arry, you do not initiate with me. I am always the one who begins our more…intimate activities."
He stared as her face grew bright red but she remained resolute.
"I definitely don't mind," he tried in one final, desperate attempt to assuage her worries.
"And I believe that is true, but…before…you flinched away from me," she murmured, staring down at their hands. "There is so much that I want to do with you. To hold you and be held by you. More than these nice, but simple, evenings spent simply side-by-side. But every time I want to try, I remember that you were once frightened of my touch, and I worry that you are not ready for more. And more than that, I worry that you would not tell me if that were the case."
He stared at her, violently wracking his brain for the offending memory. Wishing to excise it, if possible.
"I…flinched away from you?" he asked, trying not to grimace as he felt the spike of shame course through him.
A feeling she would undoubtedly pick up on.
She frowned in response, her expression somehow becoming more fragile as she stared at him.
"When you were telling me about the time Dumbledore saved you from the dementors. You were…stuck there. I wanted to try to comfort you, but you pulled away."
His face burned as the shame grew inside him.
"I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I don't remember."
"I know you did not mean to," she soothed, squeezing his hand. "And please, do not think I am upset that it happened. I doubt it was something you could control in that moment. It does, however, give me pause. I want you to tell me if I am making you uncomfortable. You never…start anything, so I had wondered."
Thoughts sped through his mind, a slippery mass that refused to come under his control. How had simple snogging turned into something so…complicated? He took in a breath and tried to focus.
"Can't you…you know…tell, if I'm uncomfortable?"
She pursed her lips and he instantly worried that he'd offended her. Why couldn't he ever get his thoughts outright? Why did they always come out as a jumbled mess?
"I can…somewhat," she said. "But I should have told you, and I apologize. I am trying to rely less on my sense of you when we are together."
"You are? Why?"
She frowned and looked away. "Because if I had been paying better attention I might have noticed that you were in no state to be touched. Instead, I was so caught up in your terror that I made you even more afraid. And what is worse, I made you afraid of me."
"I would have remembered if I was afraid of you," he said, waiting until she looked at him before continuing. "I wasn't."
"But then why do you not…?" She trailed off, her face glowing red with embarrassment in the firelight.
"I-I want to," he admitted, feeling his own cheeks grow warm. How was it he was so awkward, even when conveying something she was clearly okay with? "I just…I didn't think it was something you wanted."
"Why would I not want to be closer to you?" she asked, a frown settling across her lips.
"I…I just…" He shrugged, unable to articulate the nebulous surety inside him that promised he wanted so much more than she did. The same voice that whispered that he was on course to ruin it all.
She didn't speak for a moment, instead searching him with her eyes. For once, he found he couldn't guess what she was feeling.
"Why do you only invite me to Hogwarts for the study sessions?" she asked eventually, her voice even and thankfully devoid of any anger.
That didn't make the question any easier to answer.
All at once, his instincts screamed at him not to tell her that he'd thought she wouldn't come otherwise.
But…
His instincts hadn't exactly steered him true, if their conversation was evidence of anything.
If he could be honest with anybody, he could be honest with her.
"I thought…that you might be too busy to come if it was just to spend time…well…here," he said, gesturing weakly to the room around them
Rather than grow upset, as he had feared, Fleur simply blew out a long breath and nodded.
"I had wondered as much."
"But then why-"
Her free hand raised to stall him and she fixed him with a stern, yet kind, stare. "Before we continue, I want you to know that is untrue. I would be more than happy to come simply to see you."
"I know…"
"All the same, I wanted you to hear it."
A quick nod was all he could manage.
She blew out a breath, and the relieved smile that settled across her face helped to calm the erratic emotions pulsing inside him.
"I knew I should have done this from the start," she mumbled.
"Done…what?"
"Spoken to you about it outright. I have learned that you prefer direct, clear communication, rather than dancing around a topic, but I had gotten so tied up in my own thoughts about it that I had begun to doubt myself."
He stared at her, confused.
"Who wouldn't want a clear conversation?" he asked. "Anything else sounds…needlessly complicated."
She let out a short, humorless laugh and shook her head.
"I do not know. It is an unfortunate habit I must have picked up from my mother. She is rarely direct and it drives me insane."
A long breath passed his lips and the tension bled from the air. He looked at her, at her small smile and bright, relieved eyes. Her hand was still clasped in his, their fingers intertwined, but she had scooted back during their conversation, leaving space for cool air between them.
Unbidden, their last difficult conversation sprang to mind, the frozen wind of a Christmas night twisting around a painful story. He did feel safe around her. The same way she said she did around him. Maybe she wasn't the only one who had come to rely too heavily upon her abilities.
He scooted over so they were touching again, and ignoring that persistent whispered voice that said he was being a nuisance he pulled her into an embrace.
She came easily, collapsing against him as though she'd been held up by nothing more than a single glass support. She let go of his hand and snaked her arms up his back as he wrapped his around her shoulders. Cinnamon and shampoo assaulted his senses as she burrowed her face into his chest and leaned against him, the warmth and weight of her body against his a balm that he hadn't known he needed.
They stayed like that for only a moment, before she pushed gently against him with her head against his chest until he was laying on his back on the sofa, her arms still wrapped tight around his middle. The small couch wasn't made for such a position, with his legs dangling off to the side and hers hanging partway off the armrest, but he was certain he'd never been more comfortable.
As if in answer, Fleur let out a sigh that bled warmth through his shirt and she settled against him. After a matter of moments, her breathing had slowed and evened out, her back rising beneath his hands in a calm, steady rhythm.
He lifted his head after a few minutes of fighting his own tired eyes, and planted a careful kiss atop her head, careful not to wake her. As he laid his head back down, even the muffled complaints of his legs from the strange position quieted and he allowed himself to fade into his own comfortable sleep.
XxX
Harry,
I hope you are doing well. We did not talk about continuing our letters during Christmas, so I hope this is okay. School has been extra boring and I find that I have a lot of free time. I figured doing some translation for a letter is better than rereading the same book for the hundredth time.
Fleur said our birthdays are close together. We do not usually do much for ours, since we cannot go out anywhere, but we always make sure to celebrate. Will yours be at your godfather's?
I wish that I had more to talk about. School is so boring when I am not able to be around the others much. There are some days when my powers are weaker than usual and I can go to meals and the occasional Quidditch match, though I am not sure being out in the cold is worth it. But I am sure you have heard all this from my sister, so I will not bore you with it.
I hope your school year is going well. I am sure not worrying about an awful tournament is making for a much nicer year than last year.
Yours-
Gabrielle
Harry tucked away the letter, doing his best to ignore the burst of guilt that followed. In everything that had been happening, he'd forgotten that he had agreed to exchange letters with Gabrielle.
Maybe he could…get her something? A book?
Even if her birthday was just shy of four months away, that didn't mean he couldn't get her something to be nice. Maybe on the next Hogsmeade visit since Fleur was too busy to come.
He would need to ask Hermione for book recommendations. Hadn't the two of them talked at New Year's about their favorite books?
Regardless, his impromptu gift idea would have to wait. He wasn't sure he'd be able to concentrate on anything Hermione said anyway. Another far simpler letter sat next to Gabrielle's in his pocket; one which told him he had a lesson today from his new tutor. What it didn't say, however, was who that new tutor was going to be. He knew the question was going to torture him throughout the day but there was nothing to be done about it. It wasn't as though he could just go up and ask Dumbledore who it was going to be, especially as tired as the Headmaster looked most days.
Ron had taken to theorizing about their identity, starting with, as a joke and to Harry's chagrin, the Minister.
He knew he'd need to send a reply soon. Even if it wasn't something he really wanted to do, Sirius had been right when they had talked about it. Having the Minister owe you even a small favor is never a bad thing. Besides, Fleur had said she would be there. Maybe it really could be like some strange date.
A bout of raucous laughter sounded from across the Great Hall, setting the small hairs on the back of Harry's neck on end. Malfoy hadn't been the terror he'd been in years previous since coming back to Hogwarts, but Harry couldn't manage to shake the feeling that he was being watched by the prat, though there had been very few confrontational incidents.
He tried to put the worry aside. He had enough to deal with without inventing new troubles and besides, Mrs. Malfoy seemed at least somewhat reasonable. Sirius thought so, anyway. Maybe she'd had a positive impact on her son in the time since Lucius had been killed in that horrible graveyard.
"Harry?"
Hermione's voice pulled him from his thoughts and he noticed with no small amount of surprise that the tables had mostly emptied as everyone headed off to their first classes of the day.
His assumptions about classes dragging long as he wondered about his upcoming lesson proved true, each one stretching far beyond what seemed reasonable. Defense was, as always, yet more revision to shore up their; 'Paltry education due to incredible negligence', while Potions was simply…Potions, though it had become far tenser with the reintroduction of Malfoy to their mixed class.
So it was with no small amount of nervous energy that he took the stairs up two at a time to the seventh floor, refusing to relent to the burning in his legs for his expedient ascension. The door waited for him in the wall, rather than the flat stone that spoke of his tutor waiting inside. In the not so distant past, that had been the greatest wizard alive.
But now?
He found himself hoping it was Lupin, though his godfather's friend had made himself scarce since the scuffle Harry had only recently learned about. Even if Harry hadn't found success in the Patronus until his time with Dumbledore, Professor Lupin had been patient and kind. It was a far sight better than some teacher from Durmstrang, which had been Ron's most recent suggestion, or an extra lesson with the ever-disapproving Professor Polder, as was Hermione's.
He tugged on the door, finding it amenable to his request. He supposed it would be strange for someone inside the room to show the door, but not allow it to open. What would the point in that be?
Before opening the door all the way, he paused and shook his head, taking firm mental hold of his thoughts. Just because he had fewer secrets to keep and had more people he could trust, didn't mean he could let his thoughts roam free with him in tow. His descent into painful memory that had hurt Fleur was proof enough of that.
With a slightly less tenuous grip on his sanity, he pulled open the door and stepped over the threshold.
He had been expecting another training course, like the one they ran to practice non-verbal stunners, or maybe a replica classroom. What he was greeted with, however, was an expansive empty room with a solitary person standing in the middle.
They cut a figure that was impossible to mistake, and Harry felt the tempestuous nervousness flee in front of the reassuring form of Mad-Eye Moody.
His wooden leg still clicked across the stone floor as he turned, though Harry couldn't help but note that it was one of an entirely different wood than before. He leaned heavily on his tall staff, his magical eye spinning steadily around in its socket. Harry was even sure there were a few more scars on his gnarled face, though there had been so many to begin with, he wasn't entirely sure he hadn't forgotten the extent of the older man's old wounds.
"Well well," Moody said, clicking his way up to Harry, even his regular footstep accented by his cane. "It's about time you showed up, Potter."
Harry felt his face heat as doubt poured through him.
"I…er, tried to be early, Professor."
"Then be earlier next time," he grumbled. "I've had a chat with Dumbledore about your circumstances. Every minute you can afford to be here is one well spent."
"My circumstances, Sir?"
"Needing to learn a great deal of offensive magic in a short time, just to be safe." Moody's mouth twisted into a scowl, or a smile, Harry couldn't tell anymore. "But even then, if I didn't like you, I wouldn't be here. You were a good student last year and I heard admirable things about your confrontation with Voldemort. If such a thing happens again, I aim to have you prepared."
Harry wasn't sure how to respond, so he simply waited patiently for Moody to continue.
"Dumbledore's a fair teacher, but when it comes to the sort of thing you're most likely to be a part of, his style of dueling just won't work. He doesn't do things the way the rest of us mortals do."
Memories of electric air and colliding spells filled Harry's vision. A wand moving with deadly, dancing precision and unfaltering concentration.
"I…know what you mean," he said, nodding. "The things he did…"
"Are not out of your reach," Moody interrupted, knocking his cane against the ground for emphasis. "Don't let the spectacle of it make it an impossibility. Dumbledore told me about your lessons. A Patronus at fifteen. Not to mention out-commanding Dumbledore himself for control of the room. Impressive."
"I didn't…"
"Didn't what? Didn't do those things I just said? Dumbledore lied to me?"
"Well…no."
"Then get over whatever it is that makes you feel the need to pretend you can't do those things. We're going to work on complicated magic and that sort of thinking is only going to get in your way."
Despite the reprimand, Harry's interest piqued. He had been hoping for cool new spells when Dumbledore had agreed to teach him. Not that the Patronus wasn't incredible, but he wasn't likely to come face-to-face with a dementor again.
At least, not if he could help it.
He tried to temper his growing excitement. "Complicated magic, Professor? Like the non-verbal stuff?"
Moody let out a gruff laugh that sounded more like tumbling rocks than a voice. "No, not that. You'll only manage that now with practice on your own time. If I'd been asked to watch you muddle through a thousand stunners I'd have stayed home. No, we'll be working on transfiguration."
Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Transfiguration?"
"One application of it, anyway."
His hopes climbed to even greater heights.
"Is it animagus training?"
Another rocky laugh from Moody dashed his hopes onto the similar stones at their feet.
"No, you're not becoming an animagus. At least not right now. Besides, I think Minerva'd turn me into a rat if I didn't at least consult with her first. What happens if we spend a whole bunch of time teaching you to turn into an animal, and your form ended up being a butterfly or something? Fat lot of good that'd do you in battle."
As much as the disappointment stung, he could see the point. But if not animagus training, then…
"You mean like how Dumbledore used the ground to stop all those spells?"
"I'd forgotten how quick you are. Yes, exactly."
Harry felt his eyes widen of their own accord as he tried to imagine himself commanding the earth to fight for him, then transfigure into mist after being shifted into projectiles.
He could barely manage to turn a ball into a porcupine.
"I'm not sure I can…"
"Knock it off, we haven't got time for that. No, you won't be doing the things Dumbledore does. Minerva might be the only one who could match him in that respect. What you will be doing, is learning to shield yourself. As I recall, you can be quite good at that, when properly motivated."
"More shields?"
"Oh? Does learning to block the Unforgivables sound too boring? You've survived the big one once, so there's no need? The Imperious can't hold you for too long, so why bother?"
Harry's mouth went dry at the obvious omission from the list. The one that even now still echoed Fleur's ragged screams through his nightmares.
"But…I still don't think I'd be able to make a whole bunch of dirt change."
"No, you probably can't," Moody said, making the room produce a chair and sitting down in it. Another was conspicuously absent, forcing Harry to continue standing. "Besides, that was a mix of magical disciplines. We're not going to get into that. What you can do, is learn to change one of these stones into a mutable, mobile shield."
Harry looked down to the floor, trying to envision one of the stones coming at his command, changing and altering to suit his needs. Rather than voice his doubt, and get yelled at again, he kept quiet, waiting for more information.
"Catch on quick, you do," Moody said with another bark of laughter. "It's going to be fun training you, I can feel it in my missing bones."
The light in Moody's eyes was equal parts concerning and reassuring. He had seen firsthand the destruction the grizzled ex-Auror could bring to bear on the Death Eaters. If he could master even a fraction of it, he might be able to keep his friends from danger if Voldemort comes for him again.
He could finally start being who he should have been all along.