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Harry Potter and the Serpent's Coven | ||||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General, Romance Warnings: Death, Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: R Reviews: 90 Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years *** Harry Potter realises that returning to Hogwarts for his final year is the only way he will succeed in his quest to destroy Lord Voldemort. It is a year of darkness, horror and new discoveries. Ginny Weasley is not only the witch who possesses Harry's heart, but also the true source of his strength as a wizard. Together, they will find new powers within themselves and each other, and find that there are some things that even the darkest magic cannot break. Hitcount: Story Total: 170724; Chapter Total: 5031 Author's Notes: Here comes Alastor... |
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Having spent nearly two hours emptying his mind, Harry was now seized with a strong compulsion to fill his stomach. He made his way to the Great Hall, where the Gryffindors had already assembled and were tucking into their lunch. “Where have you been?” asked Hermione, “Ginny said something about you having different lessons, but what happened?” “Just been catching up with an old friend,” he said, nodding towards the staff table. Ron began to choke on a spicy meatball as he saw Professor Lockhart sitting down with the rest of the Hogwarts staff. Hermione clapped him on the back and succeeded in dislodging it. “What the bloody hell’s he doing here?” gasped Ron. Harry looked around suspiciously and cast the Muffliato charm once again, so that only Hermione, Ginny and Ron could hear him. “He made a recovery in St Mungo’s, and if you can believe it, he’s become my Occlumency teacher.” All three of them now stared at him in shock. “I wouldn’t even trust him to put a fire out!” Ron exclaimed, “And you’re telling me that he’s been hired as a teacher again?” “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it turns out that there’s something he actually knows how to teach,” said Harry, “and to tell you the truth, he’s pretty good at it.” Ginny was absent-mindedly coiled around Harry’s arm, thinking that she had not seen him in far too long, but also shooting the occasional dark look at Lockhart. There was something that worried her about his presence, and it was not simply the fact that he had once put her life in jeopardy. The others were still looking a little baffled as Harry lifted the charm and piled spaghetti on to his plate. “Anyway,” said Harry, finishing a large mouthful, “how was everyone else’s morning?” “Potions, with Slughorn,” groaned Ron, “I know he’s decent teacher and all, but I think it’s time to accept that I’ll never be good at it.” “Oh, Ron,” soothed Hermione, “Potions is just like any other subject, you just have to work at it and you’ll improve.” “Oh, is that so?” he scoffed in reply, “Well, you’ll have to forgive me for being a bit discouraged when the fumes from my cauldron caused Slughorn to clear the room, and that was just supposed to be a simple draught for muscular pain! No, after six years, I should be facing facts.” As the lunch hour came to an end, Harry wandered along to the classroom that he had so often entered for Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons. Mad-Eye Moody was sitting behind the desk at the front of the room, deep in thought. Harry coughed as he walked in through the door. “Ah, Potter,” he murmured, “Do have a seat.” The student desks had been removed, and instead there was a small armchair standing on its own near Moody. Harry felt the ever-curious gaze of the magical eye as he sat down. “Now, I want you to listen very carefully,” said Moody in a low growl, “Be warned, because I’m not about to mince my words, or sugar-coat this in any way. I’m about to give you a lesson in violence. You’re not just here for Auror training or magical defence. You’re here to learn how to fight back, and kill when necessary.” There were already questions buzzing around inside Harry’s head, but he decided it would be best not to interrupt just yet. “Your five senses, as well as your gut instinct, are ten times more important now than they’ve ever been,” he continued, “and let me assure you that if Dumbledore hadn’t been so convinced that you were the only one who could do what has to be done, I would never dream of teaching you any of this. If an Auror were to use this knowledge in the line of duty, they’d be stripped of their position, and in many cases, carted off to Azkaban, so I would be grateful if you treat it with caution and responsibility.” Harry nodded, the questioning look still lingering in his eyes. “Now,” said Moody, recognising the look all too well, “is there anything you’d like to ask before we proceed?” “Err, Professor…I was wondering…w..would this be including the Unforgivable Curses?” This was a question that felt like it had been trying to bore its way out of his head any way it could. To his surprise, Professor Moody was smiling at him. “I won’t be teaching you how to use them, if that’s what you mean. You know by now that most Dark wizards think nothing of using them, but they have their weapons and we have ours. One thing that you must understand is that Unforgivable Curses are what they know, what they will expect you to use. The idea is to attack them with what they don’t know, and believe me, there are more ways than one to cause pain and death.” Harry was finding the prospect of these lessons disturbingly thrilling now. He was beginning to think that there was a sadistic side to his personality that had not yet been unearthed. “Well then,” continued Professor Moody, “before we begin in earnest, I’ll need to know how your non-verbal spell work is coming along. I know you’ve only just begun to learn Occlumency, well properly at least, so we won’t dig into that aspect of defence just yet.” “I’ll need a lot more work on non-verbal spells,” admitted Harry glumly, “There are a lot of things I can manage like that, but not duelling.” “Perfectly understandable,” said Moody, nodding all the while, “The mind is under so much more pressure when in combat. Your reflexes must be sharpened, and the mind has just as important a part to play as the body. No time like the present, so come on, on your feet.” He rose from behind the desk and limped into the middle of the room. Harry stood nervously and faced him. “You can use verbal defence if you wish, but do try to let your mind take the lion’s share of the work. I’m just going to send a few mild jinxes your way to see how you deal with them.” “Protego!” Harry drew his wand just in time to fend off a disarming spell. “Good,” the professor muttered, “I didn’t give you much time to prepare yourself, and you knew I wouldn’t. What you must remember is that a Death Eater won’t even extend you that courtesy. Once again, and this time, see how close to non-verbal you can get.” Taking a deep breath, Harry once again anticipated the movement of his teacher’s wand and attempted to silently repel the attack, but it was as he felt his wand flying out of his hand, and staggered a few paces backwards, that he decided a little more practice over the summer would have been advisable. As he went to retrieve his wand, a series of thick ropes were rapidly conjured around him and he fell to the floor. Mad-Eye stood over him with a grin on his face. “Disarmed, helpless, and ready to die,” he said, and severed the ropes with another flick of his wand, “Again!” Harry picked up his wand and held the protective spell steadily in his mind. The next jinx, designed to not only disarm him but also pin him to the wall, sent him tumbling backwards a little, almost off his feet, but he managed to keep a grip on his wand. “Better!” Moody growled, “Again! This time silent and still!” Planting his feet firmly on the floor, Harry allowed the charm to consume his thoughts, and Moody’s next attack met a solid wall of protection. “Good!” came the verdict, “But your weakness is that you are only prepared to defend. You could stand there blocking curses until you’re old and grey, but if you want them to be fighting for their lives, you must strike back; you must make them fear you. Fear causes panic, and panic causes mistakes. Focus, Harry. Defend, then attack.” A moment later, Professor Moody repeated the jinx, and Harry did exactly as he was told. “Stupify!” he cried, but Moody had effortlessly blocked him. “Right idea, Potter, but again, it needs to come from your mind,” he said, “And don’t be discouraged that your attack had no effect, it’s just the principles I’m teaching you to begin with; the foundations upon which you must build.” By the end of the lesson, Harry had made significant improvement in his defensive skills, and had even managed to use a few silent jinxes. True, he had been thrown off his feet a number of times as his spells had been countered, but he was feeling very hopeful about his progress. “There will be no essays or reading for you to complete before I see you next,” said Professor Moody as they left the classroom, “All I ask is that you work on what we’ve been practicing whenever possible, and keep training your mind. Apply these rules in whatever magic you perform until it becomes second nature, Harry; I cannot stress enough how important it is that you are prepared for battle on pure instinct.” Feeling that he had caught a touch of Mad-Eye Moody’s infamous paranoia, Harry found himself reacting to the slightest sound of footsteps or creak of floorboards for the rest of the day. This even led to an incident during the evening meal, when he suddenly drew his wand on a roast chicken and transfigured it back to its original living form. There was a flurry of laughter, dismay and panic as the startled chicken scuttled along the Gryffindor table, before being returned to the serving platter by an irate Headmistress. Ginny had been waiting in the Common Room with Ron for over an hour when Harry finally walked in through the portrait hole. “Where did you disappear off to?” asked Ron. “I just needed a bit of time to think, that’s all,” he replied, putting an arm around Ginny and giving a small yawn. This wasn’t something that Ron was just going to accept. He had known Harry long enough to know that there was always something behind his lone errands. “Thinking about anything in particular?” he ventured innocently. “Not really,” he shrugged, “Just practicing for Occlumency, that’s all.” Ron eyed him suspiciously. “Oh well, if you insist on being secretive about it, I’ll leave you to it” he said, before turning on his heel and marching upstairs to the dormitory. As Ginny curled up beside him in front of the fire, Harry began to reflect on the evening’s activities. It was true to say that he had been doing a great deal of thinking, but if anything, it could’ve done his Occlumency studies more harm than good. For the first time in nearly six years, he had been staring into the Mirror of Erised. |
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