A Promise Kept - Chapter 18 - Lessons Learned

Lessons Learned

“Please, come in, Harry.”

He entered the office to find Professor Flitwick seated behind his desk with a large stack of parchment pushed slightly to the side so that he was not hidden from view.

“Good evening, Harry, take a seat.”

Harry did so and waited whilst Flitwick continued to scratch away with his quill before placing It down. Eyeing him speculatively, the diminutive man nodded as he slid the parchment towards him.

“Between now and the Christmas break, this is what I expect for us to cover,” Flitwick explained. “Duelling is an art, Harry, and with it, many different sets of rules that must be abided by, depending on the bout or competition, some less strict than others.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“Where do we begin?”

Professor Flitwick smiled, but it was not the fond or jovial one Harry had come to associate with the man. No, there was something quite feral about it, and he waved his wand to expand the room and did so again to move his desk to one side.

“I am not here to take it easy on you, Harry,” he warned. “First, before anything else, we duel. I would like to test your instincts, to see just how naturally adept you might be in the art of combat.”

Harry was taken aback but had never been one to back down from a challenge, and he took his spot at the opposite side of the room to his new mentor, drawing his wand in preparation.

“First, Harry, we bow…”

He wheezed as his back slammed into the wall, but he knew better than to remain where he was. Using his own momentum, he rolled to avoid the spells that followed, managing to shield one and avoiding two others before he was hoisted unceremoniously into the air, and plunged into an odd ball of gold gas that left him quite disorientated.

It wasn’t the first time he had been here, and Harry knew that to go down he must go up, and to get out, he had to go in.

Still, doing so did him no favours, and though he blocked two of the spells coming towards him, and even managed to offer a rebuttal, he quickly found himself slammed into the wall once more, bereft of his wand as a final flourish of Flitwick’s wand relieved him of it.

Once more, this was nothing new for Harry. Three time a week for around two hours, he would find himself here, clawing desperately for any advantage, but finding none.

Filius Flitwick was simply too fast, too clever, and too ruthless for him.

What Harry had learned during his time here outside of the sit-down lessons with the man, was that there were distinct levels to duelling, to combat, and even to just casting magic.

He had fallen short, had been humbled time and again, and found himself on the familiar spot on the office floor, catching his breath.

He shook his head as he stood, wincing in pain.

Harry had not expected this to be easy, had expected to have to overcome adversity, but he had underestimated what this undertaking would entail.

“Good,” Flitwick praised.

“Good? You wiped the floor with me again, quite literally,” Harry chuckled, pointing towards the scuff marks in the wood that had formed over the past several weeks.

“I did, but you got me too,” Filius replied, pointing towards the deep gash on his arm.

It was bleeding freely, but the man was smiling.

“It has been many years since anyone managed to land a spell on me.”

“It was a lucky hit from a desperate spell,” Harry returned with a shake of his head.

“Perhaps,” Flitwick replied unconvincingly. “Come, take a seat, Harry.”

He did so gratefully, nursing his newest batch of wounds to accompany the others that had not quite healed yet from their previous bout.

“What have you learned during our lessons?”

Harry frowned at the question.

“That I have a long way to go before I can consider myself to be a competent duellist, but I’ve also learned to respect it for what it is. I could reel off all of the spells and techniques you have taught me, which I appreciate, but more than anything, I have learned that I can always be better and that I have to work for it, no matter how many times I find myself thrown into that wall.”

Flitwick nodded.

“The same can be said for anything you pursue, Harry, but you are correct. You have excellent instincts, better than I had at your age, and your skill will only grow with experience.”

“So, the more times you kick my arse, the better I will get?”

“Partly,” Flitwick replied amusedly, sliding a goblet of water towards him. “Drink.”

Harry drained it, and Flitwick watched him for a moment.

“I did not know what to expect from you when we met. Of course, I saw your father immediately, but there is much of your mother in you. What I am pleased to see, however, is that you truly are your own person. You speak of both of them so very fondly, with love and admiration, but you desire to be only you, Harry. You are mature for your age, focused, and dedicated to everything you undertake. You are an admirable young man.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

Flitwick waved him off.

“I give praise where it is due, and criticism equally. You have taken both on board during our lessons, and should you wish to, I would like for them to continue moving forward. You have proven yourself, Harry, proven that this is not a wate of my time, nor yours. Do not answer me now. I would like for you to think about it over your Christmas break, and should you wish to accept my offer, to return as usual. If you choose not to, I can assure you there will be no hard feelings.”

Harry nodded as he stood, wincing once more from a jolt of discomfort in his ribs.

“I will think about it,” he promised.

Professor Flitwick offered him an encouraging smile, and Harry removed a wrapped gift from his pocket before placing it on the desk.

“Merry Christmas, Professor.”

“And to you too, Harry,” the man returned, handing over a gift of his own before Harry left the room via the fireplace.

Shaking his head, he did not linger in Grimmauld Place and activated the portkey to return him to his room at Ilvermorny.

Upon arriving, he placed his hand on the rune Professor Fontaine had placed next to his bed as a security measure for his coming and going.

Thus far, none knew of his current arrangement besides him and Fontaine within the school, and the man insisted it stay that way to ensure no possible security breach.

Harry agreed, and though his absences were undoubtedly being noticed, his friends had not pressed him on the matter.

Taking a measure of Pepper-up Potion to get him through the next few hours of Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts, he took a moment to compose himself before leaving his room, fighting the urge to show the discomfort he felt.

“You look like crap,” Olivia commented as he entered the common room.

“You too,” Harry quipped, offering the scowling girl a grin. “Breakfast?”

She eyed him speculatively for a moment, and evidently wished to ask him something, but she decided against it, nodding instead and leading the way towards the Great Hall.

Harry felt guilty for keeping such a secret from his friends, but for now, it was for the best.

It had been quite the revelation meeting Filius Flitwick, a blessing and curse equally, but no more so than the other man he had met only a matter of days after his lessons had begun for the year.

Flashback

Fontaine seemed to be rather eager for the impending meeting, his gaze flitting towards the clock whilst the two of them waited for their guest to arrive.

Harry remained in the dark on who it was he would be introduced to, and even as the older man stepped out of the fireplace and into the office, he was no wiser to his identity. The man, however, paused at the sight of him, his eyes seeming to glaze over for a moment as he lost himself in his thoughts.

“You look so much like him,” he murmured taking a step closer before deflating.

“My Dad?”

The man frowned and smiled.

“I expect you look a lot like him too, but I meant your grandfather, Charlus.”

“You knew him?”

The man chuckled humourlessly.

“Knew him? I spent the better part of five years with him on the continent fighting against Grindelwald. We saved each other’s lives more than once. He was the best man I knew, a hard bastard if there ever was one, but the kindest friend I could have asked for.”

“Harry, this is Reginald Yaxley, a former Auror of four decades, and a veteran in the war against Grindelwald.”

“Yaxley?” Harry asked.

Reginald nodded.

“I don’t suppose my family name is in good standing,” he snorted. “My brother Titus is the current Lord. Whilst he spent his youth at my father’s side, I was sent to fight for the forces of the ICW, a spare son to uphold our reputation. That was where I met Charlus, Arcturus, and Gil,” he explained, removing an old photograph from within his robes. “Here we all are, young, strong, and kicking arses across more countries than I care to remember.”

He handed the dog-eared picture to Harry, and he immediately noticed the resemblance between him and one of the men. As it was with his father, it was quite uncanny.

“I don’t think I ever got to meet him…”

“No, he died before you were born, but Merlin, you couldn’t find anyone better to aspire to be like,” Reginald broke in.

Harry returned the photo to the man.

“I don’t know anything about him,” he said apologetically.

“Oh, I have plenty of stories to share with you, and a lot that I can teach that I learned from him.”

“You’re going to teach me?”

“Who else would be better than a man who has fought for his life and survived when I had no right to?” Reginald asked with a grin.

End Flashback

As much as he had learned from Reginald Yaxley thus far during their weekly sessions about combat magic, it was the stories of Harry’s grandfather and the rest of their friends he had truly come to appreciate.

For the first time in his life, he finally felt as though he knew something of the Potters other than the tales of his father’s mischievousness, his brilliance on the back of a broom and in Transfiguration, and that James Potter’s life had been tragically cut short.

Now, he knew of Charlus, of the adversity he had overcome, and how he had led his men into battle on numerous occasions against the forces of Gellert Grindelwald.

What had become clear to Harry was that his grandfather was a deeply respected man on the continent, and just as much for his stint on the Wizengamot in Britain.

“Here, you look as though you could use this,” Olivia spoke, breaking into his thoughts as she placed a plate of fruit of and toast in front of him.

Harry nodded appreciatively.

“Thanks.”

She offered him a smile, but it was one of concern more than it was fondness.

One day, and Harry hoped soon, he would be able to share what it was he was doing with his friends, but for now, it would remain a secret, if indeed he was to continue his work with Professor Flitwick.

He wanted to more than anything, and despite having spent most of the past few months injured in some manner, Harry was not deterred from doing so, even knowing that it would only become harder than it already was.

(Break)

“He’s not having the easiest time. Snape is giving him the Wolfsbane but he’s not quite adjusted to it yet. It makes him more tired and irritable than usual.”

“I’m surprised the two of you haven’t been roaming through the forest like you used to,” Lily replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“No, the last thing we want is to draw attention to him in any way. His absence from his classes has already been noticed, and some of the students are bright enough to figure it out. We did.”

“Well, hopefully they will have the sense not to say anything,” Lily sighed. “You want to invite him here for Christmas, don’t you?”

“If you don’t mind. He has no one else, Lily. His parents are both dead, and it’s just me and him.”

Lily nodded her understanding.

“I’m sure Harry will enjoy the company of a werewolf. He seems to have a thing for befriending potentially dangerous creatures.”

He snorted at the memory and made his way towards the office on the fifth floor his friend was occupying. Knocking on the door, he waited to be admitted, noting that Remus looked a little better than he had the previous day.

“Did I miss a class?” the werewolf asked confusedly.

“No, we are done until after Christmas,” Sirius answered. “Which is why I’m here. Lily and I would like for you to join us for the holidays. Harry will be there, and I think it’s about time the two of you met, don’t you?”

Remus didn’t seem to be convinced, but he nodded.

“I’d like to meet him,” he murmured.

“Well, you might just regret that decision,” Sirius snorted. “He can be just as bad as James ever was, but Harry is a sneaky little shit.”

“I’ll look forward to that,” Remus chuckled. “Thank you, Padfoot.”

Sirius gave the man a smile before squeezing his shoulder.

The last time they had spent Christmas together had been in this very castle whilst they’d been students, and though their friendship wasn’t quite what it had once been. Nor would it ever be, he was glad to have the werewolf back in his life.

As far as the Marauders went, they were the last of them; neither counting the traitorous rat among them since that Halloween night he’d shown himself for what he truly was.

(Break)

“He’s in pain again,” Marisa observed, nodding towards where Harry was seated with Olivia on the other side of the Transfiguration classroom.

Isabelle nodded.

“Quodpot?”

“No, it’s not Quodpot,” Marisa sighed. “We both know what electives he requested.”

“Where would he find the time?” Isabelle questioned. “His schedule is just as full as ours.”

Marisa shook her head.

“I don’t know, but this is Harry we’re talking about. If there was any way he could manage it, he would.”

“True,” Isabelle conceded, “but he hasn’t said anything.”

“Maybe he has been told he is not allowed to.”

“Is that normal?”

Isabelle frowned.

“Well, some duelling masters would prefer to keep that they have an apprentice a secret,” she mused aloud, “and combat magic is quite frowned upon by some. It’s not as though experts in it are offering demonstrations or bragging about it.”

“So, that is what he is doing.”

“It’s Harry we’re talking about,” Isabelle echoed. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

Marisa nodded and observed their friend.

He seemed to be his usual self, but he was undoubtedly masking something, just a little more tired, and perhaps even a little paler.

Not that it would change.

Marisa liked to think she had come to know the boy well over the past couple of years, and if anything, she’d realised that he was about as stubborn as anyone else she’d ever met.

“That will be all for today. Mr Potter, a word before you leave,” Professor Goode requested.

Marisa packed her things away and left with the others, not missing another grimace from Harry as he stood and approached the Transfiguration Professor’s desk.

(Break)

He waited until the door had closed behind the rest of the students that were leaving before he handed Harry a familiar roll of parchment. It was an essay he had completed on the use of animation in Transfiguration.

“This is exceptional work, Harry, far more than I would expect from any student here, let alone a third year. Not only can you identify the most effective forms of animation, but you demonstrate an understand of the key steps of what should and should not be done during the process. This essay is beyond OWL level work. This alone would get you an Outstanding grade.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry replied appreciatively.

Thus far, it had been a rough night and morning, and though it was merely a few words from another, it gave him a much-needed uplift.

Professor Goode smiled before placing another thick stack of parchment in front of him.

“What are the key processes of identifying and completing an Animagus transformation,” Harry read.

Goode nodded.

“This is the very first step in achieving it,” he explained. “I want you to really study this, Harry, with as much rigour as you have everything else. I need you to truly understand what it is you will be getting yourself into. Now, I know your father was somehow successful at a similar age to you, but we must begin slowly. This will be a project I wish for you to study until Easter, and from there, we will decide which path we will take.”

Harry readily agreed and accepted the parchment, noticing that it was comprehensive, but the additional reading would be even more so.

“You continue to impress me, Harry, and I look forward to our continued work together.”

“Me too, Professor,” Harry replied before gathering his things and taking his leave of the room.

Goode was among his favourite instructors.

The man was certainly a stickler for rules, but he had to be given he taught one of the most dangerous branches of magic at the school.

Even so, he always encouraged the students, always had new ways of approaching spells that proved to be difficult and was fair to all if nothing else.

In some ways, he was similar to Professor McGonagall, whom Harry had met not long after beginning his lessons with Professor Flitwick a few months prior.

Flashback

“Disguising your wand movements is a necessary skill whilst duelling, as is observing the movements of others. I have come up against opponents who were not as skilled as me in casting magic, but they were incredibly adept at reading the wand movements of others and could respond to them in a split second. It can be the difference between winning and losing, or even life and death,” Professor Flitwick explained. “This is where you must practice being as slick as you are fluid, Harry. Take the simple disarming charm. Instead of a pushing motion and a turn at the end, you can do both at the same, and instead of rolling your wrist, just roll the wand in your fingers. Not only is it faster to cast, but it cannot be read by your opponent.”

Harry nodded his understanding, and though it felt a little awkward compared to gripping his wand, it worked.

“Good,” Flitwick praised. “You should experiment with that with all spells. So long as your wand is loyal, it will remain in your hand. It will take some getting used to, but I cannot stress how essential the skill is. It is just as important as casting your magic non-verbally, which you are doing well with already.”

Once more, Harry nodded, and Filius frowned as a knock at the door sounded. He gestured for Harry to remain where he was whilst he answered it.

“Ah, Minerva. I should have expected you would come,” the diminutive man said amusedly. “I’m sure Harry will not be opposed to meeting you.”

The woman that entered was in her advanced years, and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Harry immediately got the impression she was not one to find himself on the wrong side of, but oddly, her eyes filled with warmth at the sight of him, and she even smiled.

“It is as though I have stepped back a couple of decades,” she sighed, “but I would be in my office, and your father would be making excuses as to why he found himself in trouble yet again.”

“Harry, this is Professor McGonagall,” Flitwick introduced. “Minerva, this is Harry Potter.”

“Oh, I can see that,” the woman responded, staring at him curiously.

“I can only apologise for my father’s behaviour, Professor,” Harry offered.

The woman actually laughed as she shook her head.

“Oh, he was as frustrating as any student, but his misdeeds have become rather fond memories,” she replied, “and as frustrating as he was, he was incredible at Transfiguration. The best I have ever taught.”

“My mother mentioned that you wished for him to study with you after he had finished his NEWTs.”

Professor McGonagall nodded.

“He had the potential to surpass even me,” she said fondly, “but I suppose we will never know what he could have achieved. Not that I would’ve expected anything else from him. He was determined to fight the Dark Lord, and the James Potter I knew would have no regrets for the choices he made, even when they landed him in more detentions than I care to count.”

“I suppose that’s where I get it from,” Harry chuckled. “I’ve had more than my fair share of them.”

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips in response.

“I should have expected nothing less from his son, but you will be on your best behaviour whilst you are here, Potter.”

And there it was, that glimpse of the stern woman Sirius and his mother had told him about.

“Of course, Professor,” he assured her.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Your father wore that same smirk,” she sighed tiredly. “I thought that after all these years it would be welcome, but I can assure you, it is just as irritating now as it was then.”

Professor Flitwick laughed, and Harry did his utmost to rid himself of the expression, likely to no avail.

“Well, I am sure you will be pleased to know that Harry here is an exceptional Transfiguration student,” Flitwick assured her.

McGonagall hummed.

“Perhaps I will be the judge of that,” she mused aloud. “It was nice to meet you, Mr Potter.”

“And you,” Harry offered as she left the room. “Is she always so terrifying?”

“Oh, that is nothing,” Flitwick answered. “Minerva McGonagall is one of the most exceptional witches I have ever met, and she has the highest of standards in everything she does. Your father had a way of irking and impressing her equally. I expect you will likely do the same if given the opportunity.”

“Me?” Harry asked innocently. “Not me, Professor, I am a well-behaved student.”

Flitwick quirked an eyebrow at him before shaking his head.

“Get back to work, Harry,” he huffed, his eyes alight with amusement.

End Flashback

“Harry Potter,” a voice spoke, jolting him from his thoughts.

“You know, you’re going to get your brothers in trouble if they find you and me talking.”

Sabine offered him a grin before shrugging and tucking a strand of her long hair behind her ear.

“Why do you think I do it?”

“Well, you either want to get me in trouble, or your brothers.”

“Sounds like I win either way.”

Harry shook his head.

“Well, I’m glad you stalked me before we left for Christmas. I have something for you, and I don’t think your family would be best pleased if it arrived by post. Too many questions.”

“Stalked you? I was in your lesson, or do you just not notice me anymore?”

She pouted at him, and Harry released a deep breath as he handed her a wrapped gift.

“I think you might get us both into trouble one of these days.”

Sabine nodded and leaned in, placing something into his pocket before her lips brushed against his ear.

“I’m sure it will be worth it,” she whispered. “Besides, it will always be our little secret, Harry.”

He didn’t know what to say, and she laughed at what he assumed was his dumbfounded expression.

“I’m joking,” she huffed. “I would never be so easy, not even for you.”

She smiled as she walked away, looking back at him with that same teasing grin, and Harry cursed under his breath.

“She’s trouble that one. Always trouble.”

(Break)

“Thank you for arriving early, Filius,” Albus greeted the man, gesturing for him to take a seat on the opposite side of the desk. “I was hoping you would explain how your weeks of working with Mr Potter have been?”

He had left the duo alone for the duration.

Albus knew that neither Filius nor Harry would appreciate his unput or interference in what it was they were doing.

“Well, I must say, I am astounded,” the smaller man sighed. “I’ve pushed him, Albus, harder than I intended to and was even a little rougher than I should have been. I wanted to see if he was as resilient as he is talented, and he just keeps coming back. He is tough, he is brilliant for one his age, even if he doesn’t realise it yet. He has spent weeks being humbled during each of our duels, but only last night, he got me.”

“He got you?”

Filius nodded proudly.

“I gave him no quarter nor any advantage, and he caught me with a nasty cutting curse. It will certainly leave a remarkable scar.,” he chuckled, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the raw wound.

Filius did not believe in using potions or spells to heal the wounds he had obtained during duels, and given how many he had fought throughout his life, he had so few to show.

“That is impressive.”

“Harry doesn’t realise just how impressive it is,” Filius murmured. “There is much for him to learn, Albus, but his instincts are incredible, and he learns so quickly. I need only show him once, and he can even replicate my own spells after only seeing them once. With just a few years of training, he could be among the very best.”

That was high praise indeed coming from a man such as Filius Flitwick.

“So, your work will continue?”

“If Harry chooses to return. I expressed my wish for him to do so, but I would like for it to be his choice. Not that I intended to take it any easier on him, especially after the Christmas present he gave me.”

Albus frowned questioningly, and Filius removed a shrunken box from within his robes. Resizing it, the sides collapsed outwards revealing what appeared to be a stool topped with a thick, blue cushion, the colour matching the robes of the students he oversaw.

With a frown, Albus retrieved the placard resting in front of the piece of furniture and read it aloud.

“For all of your reaching and seeing needs! The Extendo-Stool is your leg-up in life. Rest assured, no matter the height you need to climb, you will not stumble, and you will not fall. The Extendo-Stool, created and patented by Harry James Potter, Esquire.”

Albus fought the urge to laugh as he finished.

“What’s worse is that the damned thing is brilliant,” Filius huffed. “It works, all of it, and the Charms work is flawless. As much as I try to, I cannot fall off it.”

Albus did chuckle this time, and Filius scowled at him.

“Well, it is quite the thoughtful gift.”

“We both know what this is, Albus,” Filius grumbled, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Regardless, I will take it in the good humour it was intended. Not that Harry James Potter, Esquire, will know that. Patented, my foot.”

Albus laughed once more.

Although it was undoubtedly a prank of sorts, it had been executed most excellently, and Filius had received quite the useful gift in the process.

“Will you use it?”

“It would be rude not to, wouldn’t it?”

“Quite,” Albus agreed. “Ah, I believe the others are arriving.”

Only a moment later, there was indeed a knock at the door to the office, and at his bidding, a curious line of Professors and other staff members filed into the room and took the seats the Headmaster had readied for them.

He had not expected to hold this meeting until the previous day, but for him, and the school alike, he had some exciting news to share.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a bout of laughter courtesy of Sirius Black, who had noticed the stool that had been gifted to Filius.

“How much trouble is he in?” he asked amusedly.

“I’ve not quite decided yet,” the smaller man answered.

Sirius snorted and shook his head.

“Patented my arse,” he sighed wistfully.

Albus cleared his throat to garner their attention and offered the gathered men and women a welcoming smile.

“I have asked you all here to make quite announcement, and to begin the undoubtedly comprehensive work ahead of us all in the coming months. Now, of course, the news must go no further than us until an official announcement is to be made, but for the next school year, Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament.”

For a brief moment, his words were met with silence, until Minerva spoke up.

“Wasn’t it discontinued because of a rampaging cockatrice killing the last three champions?”

“Precautions will be put in place to ensure that doesn’t happen, and myself, Igor, and Olympe will be working closely with Barty and Ludo to make the tournament safer.”

“Igor Karkaroff?” Severus asked disgustedly.

“He is the Headmaster of Durmstrang.”

Severus’ lip curled in distaste at the thought of the man being within the castle, but he would pose no threat to any.

Even now, Igor retained his position from fear of repercussions of his part in the imprisonment of several of the Dark Lord’s followers, and it wasn’t as though Albus would not be implementing every measure he could think of to ensure to competition would run smoothly.

“This is an excellent opportunity to re-establish the relationship between our schools and also showcase our talents. I know that this is an unexpected development for you all, but rest assured, it will be an incredible competition to be a part of.”

“And what of the tasks?” Minerva asked.

“We are currently discussing what they shall consist of amongst ourselves,” Albus answered. “I will keep you all informed when everything is set in stone. Now, please, go and enjoy your holidays. The rest can wait until after we reconvene in the new year.”

They were silent as they left the room, and Albus understood.

It had come quite out of the blue, but the arrangements had been underway for some time now.

Igor had been the most difficult to convince, even more so when Olympe had nominated Hogwarts to host to tournament, given that according to traditions, it was the turn of the Brits to do so.

Still, Igor’s ego had not allowed him to pass up such an opportunity, and the next school year would see the reintroduction of the competition between the three premier schools.

(Break)

He frowned as he finished reading through the stack of parchment Professor Goode had provided him on the Animagus transformation, and Harry knew if he was to achieve it, it would be no easy feat.

He idly wondered how it was his father had managed it at such a young age, let alone teaching two others to follow suit. It truly was remarkable, and though he was tempted to, he would not ask Sirius, not yet, at least.

Whether it was spending an inordinate amount of time with a an odd leaf in his mouth, or searching for his inner animal through meditation and self-reflection, Harry didn’t know, but he was looking forward to beginning the process himself.

That, however, was in the future.

He’d been home for only a few hours, had spent time with both Norbert and Aurelius, and had set to work on his latest project.

Now, he felt that he needed to take a break, to rest his mind and body for a few days to allow himself to recover sufficiently from the rather arduous few months he’d spent at Ilvermorny.

When he hadn’t been attending his regular classes, he’d either been with Flitwick, Fontaine, Reg, as the man had insisted he call him, or on the Quodpot pitch preparing for the season to begin after the new year.

It was as though he’d had barely a moment to himself, but he found he liked being so busy, so focused, and building the skills he would need for the days to come.

Even so, Harry understood the need for time to recuperate, and as he picked up the stack of letters he’d received, he opened the first, shuddering at the influx of magic that washed over him.

Harry,

School is much the same as it was last year.

I’m enjoying my new classes, and I’m really considering becoming an enchantress. Fleur is helping me get ahead when she isn’t too busy with her own work.

Not that she needs to be stressed. She got amazing OWL results.

How are your classes going?

Love,

Gabrielle

Harry frowned as he re-read the letter.

She had said little, but Harry could feel the loneliness in her magic, a lingering sadness that had only become more prominent these past months since she’d returned to Beauxbatons.

The girl had spoken of her sister’s troubles with being at school, and it appeared that she was now experiencing them for herself.

She had not said as much, but he could sense it, could feel it.

With a shake of his head, he began penning a reply, wishing there was a way he could help her more than he was.

(Break)

For more than two years now he had been occupying Quirrell’s body, and though it had and continued to serve its purpose, the Dark lord could feel the toll his presence had taken.

Quirinus was an able wizard, exceptional in his own way, but slowly, surely, his magic and body were breaking down under the burden of sustaining the Dark Lord.

“We are almost there, my lord,” Quirrell wheezed, pushing on up the steep Albanian hill.

It was here they had fled to, a country he was familiar with, the very same place he’d sought comfort after that fateful Halloween night. Quirinus had happened upon him, shortly before he’d been accepted, had listened to his story, and had been more than willing to serve the Dark Lord even at his weakest.

For that, he would be rewarded with his life.

Were it any other, Lord Voldemort would merely allow them to drain themselves of all they had, but Quirinus had earned his place at his side.

“The child is well?”

“It is sleeping, my lord.”

It was not an ideal solution but given the plan he had concocted over the intervening months since they’d been discovered by Dumbledore, he needed the body of a child for his intended ritual to work.

As such, soon enough, he would vacate Quirinus’s being and take possession of the babe they had stolen from the muggle hospital only a few hours prior.

Within it, the Dark Lord would be weak, but he needed Quirinus to be able to continue serving him, to fetch all they would need in the coming months, and prepare for his inevitable return to Britain, where the Dark Lord would resume the work he’d been torn away from some twelves years prior.