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Chapter 3 — The Craziest Boy You’ve Ever Seen
Sunday October 13th, 1996

Needless to say, the hallway outside of Dumbledore’s office is crowded with people who were curious to see you. You spot half of Gryffindor, a dozen or so Puffs and Claws, and Draco stinking Malfoy himself. Now, everyone’s looking around scared at whatever just happened. They’re not important. The only ones that matter are Kwan and Hack and they are right behind you. Granger’s voice screams for everyone to stay where they are.

You feel a secondary explosion shake the castle as you reach the moving staircases. They’re stuck in mid-motion — typical. Why is it that even getting to the battle might kill you? Sometimes, you wonder why you bother. Your dress robes, don’t happen to have a shrunken broom in it do they? Nope. They also don’t happen to have your Vipertooth Dragon armor underneath them. You’ll take that under consideration for later.

"Hack! Can you make that leap?" He’s still not very good with his little Daemon wings. It’s gotta be at least five meters, and there’s not enough space for him to get up a run. He could shrink and you could banish him. A few other possibilities cross your mind as Kwan hobbles up on his fake leg. Screw it! Peter Parker, eat your heart out. "Funis Applico!" A length of rope shoots out of your wand and ties itself off neatly on the frozen staircase. You summon the end of it back to your hand. Hack shrinks down to his smallest size and clambers onto your back. You do your best Spiderman impression and swing to the fifth floor landing. Kwan floats down using some kind of personal levitation spell — damn show off. You repeat and finish with a cushioning charm as you land on the third floor.

If you’re the wise-cracking wallcrawler, then Hack is your "Hulk." He leaps off your back and goes to his full battle size, missing his clothes. Mental note — speak to Flitwick about charming your naked troll’s clothes. There’s a joke about a naked troll with his arms wrapped around you that Bill must never learn. Several enchanted suits of armor are headed toward you. They have sharp swords and spears. Hack brawls with them as you summon his club to give the Troll an "unfair" advantage. Kwan lands with a bit of a stumble, but is already snapping off a Banisher.

"Hack! It’s clobberin’ time!" You Banish the club into one of the suits near the troll. Okay, wrong superhero, but that’s not the point — yelling "Avengers Assemble" also would have just been stupid. Hack scoops up the club and takes point. Gongs of steel caused by the crushing blows of Daemonbone ring through the corridor. You can sense the raw power ahead of you. It’s coming from Dumbledore and whatever he’s fighting. The feeling is similar to standing at the edge of a cliff in the middle of a violent thunderstorm. It’s the magical equivalent of a warning of impending doom; proceed at your own risk. Not that you ever really have a choice to just turn around and go get a sandwich or a spot of tea!

Quick inventory time, what’s on the third floor? There are the Charms classroom, the Infirmary, Trophy Room, Armory and a few other rooms. The hallways are full of the suits of armor and the distant sounds of spell fire can be heard. You charge forward, weaving in and out from behind your troll hurling Crushing Curses and Blasters. No kid stuff today! Alright, the armor is just the foot soldiers. Come on Riddle — what else do you have?

A wild-eyed figure stumbles from the Infirmary, through the door that’s been knocked off its hinges. Madame Pomfrey’s bleeding and clutching her wand uselessly as she flees from the enchanted knights behind her.

You cover her exit with Banishers and Bludgeoners, as you catch her with your left arm. Hack moves in front of you and makes like a championship cricket player. The Daemonbone seems to drain the magic out of the enchanted suits as it strikes them.

The woman struggles in your grasp. She might be good when it’s someone else’s crisis, but perhaps you’d given the nurse far too much credit.

"Potter! Let me go! We have to get out of here! There’s too many of them!"

"Where’s Katie?"

She scratches at you until you release her and she runs off without answering your question. Katie’s all alone in there! You did not save her from a cursed object just to see her killed by Riddle’s Horcrux! Your next Summoning Spell yanks four suits out of there. Hack’s club does the heavy work, twisting the metal into freakish parodies of what they once were. Maybe your buddy has a future in modern art? No time to consider that now. The Infirmary is in shambles. The smell is worse than a bad day down in the Potions Lab. Longbottoms of the world unite!   Fumes from shattered potions permeate the air and threaten to overwhelm your senses. Fire Spells seem like a bad idea right about now. One of the interior walls has partially collapsed allowing more armored guardians to enter.

The suits of armor inside were milling about, you’ve given them a fresh target and they turn towards you. Katie is mercifully untouched and you breathe a sigh of relief. They must not sense her as a threat, but you don’t want to take any chances. The mindless foot soldiers approach and you vent your wrath on them. They fall within a minute. Casting a Ventilation Charm to evacuate the dangerous cloud of potion spill out one of the shattered windows, you animate Katie’s bed. Mental commands make it follow you out of the ruined ward and head towards the staircase to get your helpless friend away from the fighting. Provided nothing gets behind you, she’ll be fine.

No time to rest, back to the fight! Kwan and Hack are fighting — the charms classroom?   Something that reminds you eerily of the bone horror that killed Maria Sanchez fills the corridor. This one’s made of desks, chairs, and rubble. A flash of orange shoots by as a small tabby cat darts through and easily past the golem. Minerva’s knows where the real fight is taking place and leaves the three of you to deal with this "minor problem." It’s tempting to follow, but you’d give away your Animagus form and even then, you might not be small enough to get by.

Drawing on your energy, you dig in your mind for the right spells to use when faced with a construct of wood. Fire seems like a good idea, but little mages who play with fire tend to get burned. Kwan’s Blasters aren’t really doing enough damage. A heavy duty group of spells linked together in a spellchain might be the right choice. No, you’re first instinct is right. Fire is the key — just don’t play with it! Hopefully, the fumes in the in the Infirmary have dispersed. Whispering a weak Cutting Charm, you open a wound on your left arm and your wand tip is smeared with the sticky red liquid. Like a Catholic priest shaking holy water to bless a house, you shake the blood to the ground. Now comes the good part.

The wand movements are intricate, but your time in the jungle has given you clarity and a certainty that the old Harry Potter never had before. The new and improved version whispers the words of the dead Toltec language, which tumble harshly off your tongue. The droplets of blood rush together and form a single thin line as tall as you are. Surging your magic and bellowing the last words, the column explodes into a pillar of fire, more specifically Bloodfire — an all consuming flame directed by your will. Pushing it with your mind, you send it towards the construct and yell for Hack back off. Kwan finishes off another group of knights and sends a jet of oil at the Golem to add fuel to the flames. He saw you fight with Veras Chilotha and your teammate knows what to do. As living flame meets animated wood, Kwan summons a powerful gust of wind causing your Bloodfire to flare magnificently against it. You pour power into it, resisting the urge to cast other spells. Doing this spell weakened that formidable South American Dark Wizard, and you’re still not certain if other traps lay beyond.

Kwan adds a pair of large fireballs roughly the size of footballs and the Golem wobbles unsteadily. You urge the Bloodfire onward and spare a glance over your shoulder. The construct is burning all over and running out of furniture to fuel itself with. Kwan switches to Vanishing the desks, chairs, and now hospital beds that it attempts to fortify itself with.

"Vertixcis!" A gale force wind surges through the hallway nearly lifting you off your feet and the fire spreads to all parts of the golem. "Now Hack! Get it."

The troll smashes his club into it. You feel the Daemonbone sapping at the magic of your Bloodfire and let it dissipate. The furniture golem collapses in a pile of smoldering debris, clogging the hallway. You could Vanish your way through, or go over. Motioning Hack closer, you use his bulk to shield your transformation and quickly leap over the still burning debris. Your senses sharpen. The burning ash and the heat from the flames assault your nostrils.

Coiled power flows through your four legs. You haven’t really been able to transform since the Lakota reservation. Like a trained firewalker, it takes mere seconds to move through the pile. You are agile grace personified. Returning to your human form you see more suits of armor pouring out to delay Kwan and Hack. You make the call. They can handle it, so you head towards the trophy room.

Moving faster, you sense the power ahead of you. This part of Riddle isn’t going quietly. You round the corner and see another sight that will haunt you for many years to come, should you somehow manage to live that long. Before you is a thing that was Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris, swollen to something slightly larger than your Animagus form, dodging and clawing at the Phoenix above it who is screaming bloody murder. As painful as the bird’s war cry is to you, that is not what stops you in your tracks. The sight of the bloody lower half of an orange tabby cat dangling from the monsters mouth shocks you to your core. Rage boils in your veins. The same cutting curse that bisected Antonin Dolohov leaps from your wand. Mrs. Norris senses the wash of magic and gets out of the way before being ripped in half. It retreats back towards the trophy room. Fawkes turns at you for a moment almost trying to decide who the greater threat is before pursuing the transfigured beast.

The entire trophy room is a warzone. The contents of the trophy shelves, as well as the shelves themselves, the contents of broom closets and links of chain form a vortex around a figure in the room. Over the din, you can hear the mocking voice of Tom Riddle coming from the man and the portrait of Dippet.

"Last warning, you miserable fool, let me pass and I won’t tear your school apart from the inside!"

A wall of energy shields the Headmaster from the vortex. "You must resist his control. You are stronger than he is!"

You wonder who has been possessed. There’s one primary suspect with Mrs. Norris running around here like the poster child for animal experimentation, but how? He’s a squib! You release a series of Vanishers into the vortex, but there is too much debris.

The voice sounds a bit less certain, "Potter! So you dare to show your face!" Shards of shelving shoot like oversize darts at you as lengths of chain jangle and crack like giant bullwhips. You dodge the chains and vanish much of the wood. Dumbledore’s power joins yours as the chains strike a pedestal where a suit of armor had once stood. The Headmaster has another one of these protecting him. No matter how hard you’ve trained, he’s leaps and bounds ahead of you when it comes to animation and transfiguration. Your methods are much more crude and straightforward.

"Tonare! Lacero! Pello Hostis! Moudre d’Os! Carnicero Vil! Tonare!" You send a full link of a powerful spellchain at Voldemort’s puppet. The Bonesnapper is uttered in French and the vile Butcher Spell in Spanish to shorten the casting time. Words are less important than wand movements. Wand movements are less important than the intent. Willpower and raw power are what really matters! You begin the link again, but are forced to dive for cover as bolts of destructive energy shoot from a statue that hadn’t been part of the battle until now - voice activated wards of the disposable variety. You grunt in pain as one of the beams catches you on the back. Dumbledore leaps to the offensive, but he’s only using heavy Stunners and Incapacitation Spells. Sweet Circe naked on a bed! Take off the damn kid gloves and fight!

Sure enough, there’s a window as your opponent moves debris to block Dumbledore’s array of Stunning Spells. You get your first glance at the man behind the curtain. The Horcrux looks like it’s affixed to his chest like some kind of Superman symbol and glowing with energy. You always wondered why he kept his chains oiled. Tremble in fear from the Dark Lord Voldefilch! The Horcrux must be serving as a magical core.

"Argus! You must let us help you!"

You always doubted the bugger was sane. The wild look on his face confirms it. "Help? You think I want your help? Why would I go back to being a squib? Mocked by children, ghosts and elves? I’m fighting the great Dumbledore to a standstill! I have power! Now let me leave or see what I can do to this castle!" More single use wards activate hurling cerulean energy throughout the room. Summoning your strongest shield, it deflects the energy into the wall ripping through stone like wallboard.

"I’m sorry Argus. I truly am." Dumbledore says with an almost audible sigh. His demeanor changes and he strikes out. For you, it’s a reminder of the power that hides behind those twinkling eyes. You add your own considerable fury to the attack. Voldefilch’s protective cocoon begins to rapidly shrink. The tornado of the Horcrux’s power clashes and falters against the hurricane forces the two of you bring forth. The old man sends wave after wave of power crashing against the protective wall forcing Voldefilch backwards. Your spells follow with tight beams of concentrated energy shattering the damaged pieces faster than he can replace them.

Mrs. Norris leaps from the swirling mass, still followed by the angry Phoenix. She emerges from the other side, placing herself in between Filch and the rest of you. All the debris comes to a sudden halt as the creature spits McGonagall’s cat body at Dumbledore.

It has the desired effect. Dumbledore falters momentarily. The brief instant where you thought Veras Chilotha had killed Bill crosses your mind. There were always rumors of a relationship between the Headmaster and your former Head of House, but at the very least, they were close friends. You’d feel for him, but Voldefilch uses this to detonate his wall of debris and the castle groans buffeted by another shockwave. You engorge one of those pedestals and leap behind it. It worked for the Daemon when you detonated the sappers. Sometimes the enemies can teach you more than your allies.

The storm of debris rips up the masonry and you see Filch riding past you on his enormous cat. Ahead of him is the statue of the humpbacked witch and the passage to Honeydukes. You rise to your feet and see Fawkes excavating its master. If he’s still alive under there, he’ll use Fawkes to go to Hogsmeade. You don’t have that luxury. As the possessed man disappears beneath the statue, his cat stays to buy him time. You snap off several spells charging towards it, but it dodges most of them, though a Reductor rips a chunk of flesh out of its side, causing it to howl in pain. It leaps towards you and you make your own transformation, meeting it in mid-air. You’re foreclaws rip at it and your fanged jowls lock onto the side of its head. There’s the wet squishy taste of blood in your mouth.

The two of you roll along the corridor. It’s still larger, but it’s just an enchanted cat. Even on its best day it would never be you! Want to know how McGonagall felt, bitch? Try this! The enlarged cat thrashes against you and you pick up a few wounds from its hind legs, but it abruptly stiffens and goes slack. You’re surprised that the meat didn’t have move fight in it, but then you see your claws. The fur ends and scales begin towards the feet. Your teeth feel slightly longer and there’s a swelling in your jaws. You sniff the wound at the cat’s neck. You know that smell. It’s a sharp, distinctive smell, which you’ve only smelled once before in your life. It’s the same odor the basilisk fang had.

You don’t have to wonder how the Daemon blood affected you anymore.

The statue is starting to seal itself. You topple it and dive down the stone slide. It’s tight, but you can make better speed this way. You’ll catch him just after the wards. Faster, you need to be faster through the twisting earthen passage.

He senses your approach but the prey confuses you for his animal. After all, why would he expect different? "My precious, I told you to delay…. No!" The rest of his words are cut off by an inarticulate scream.

In the jungles of South America, you are known as the beast that kills in a single bound. Your mass buries the man in the tight confines of the tunnel. Claws rip at him. Poison from your jaws mixes with the blood and the screams of a petty, angry man. Argus Filch allowed himself to come under the sway of an evil monster, but there are other monsters in this world and you just happen to be one of them, not necessarily evil, but every bit as dangerous.

Within thirty seconds it is over. There is only you, the Horcrux, and the mauled body of Hogwarts former caretaker. You return to your human form and grab the scheming bastard’s wand, wondering who he confiscated it from. It’s a poor match, but it doesn’t need to be that good for what you intend to do.

Cutting Curses remove the Horcrux from the flesh around it. You Vanish the rest of his body leaving only the chest area. The cursed wretch doesn’t deserve a funeral. A spell flips the gruesome sight over and you Vanish the rest of the flesh leaving only a blood drenched plaque. Conjuring a sheet and charming it, you watch as the Horcrux is wrapped like a sick present. At the edge of your mind, you hear the distant voice of Voldemort’s soul. It’s a whisper of seductive power. "Reach out take me. I can make you stronger."

For a moment, you picture the look on Dumbledore’s face were you to come back out with it affixed to your chest. "Sorry Tom, I have enough power already. Care to sweeten the pot with a second offer? Knowledge, that’s better, but still not enough? I’d consider your tempting offer, but you’d want control in return. Besides, I already have enough older wizards trying to control my life. Maybe some other day, like one that doesn’t end in a ‘y’."

Considering the Killing Curse right there, you remind yourself that you’re in an underground in a tunnel. Just because the diary and Rowena’s crystal ball went quietly into the night, doesn’t mean this will, remember Dumbledore’s hand?

Your holly wand is upstairs where you transformed and you’d rather not uses Chilotha’s wand just yet, so you’ll keep using this one. Even though you’ve already touched it, before and just now, during the mauling, you are mindful of Bill’s training when dealing with dark objects — always float them and never touch them.

Heading back towards Hogwarts, you wonder whether the old man made it. Part of you would rather go it alone at this point, but you need him to help you find Helga’s cup. True, you need him, but you don’t have to like him. You close the wounds Mrs. Norris opened on your legs and cast a glamour over your tattered clothing. You’re a politician, Potter, and as such you must keep up appearances.

------

Using the Rope Spell and a charm to animate it, you pull yourself back up the slide. How much damage had Dippet’s portrait done? Here you were worried about the mystery that is Snape! Shit! Dumbledore might as well invite Riddle into his office. Practice your Occlumency Harry! We wouldn’t want Voldemort getting in your head. It might interfere with the reports the portrait was giving him.

The last charmed rope shoots out of the passageway and sticks to the ceiling of the corridor. The charmed rope pulls you back up into the wrecked hallway, and you climb out onto the floor right at the booted feet of Severus Snape. As if the day couldn’t get any worse.

His voice oozes with sarcasm. "Welcome back Mr. Potter.   So, very nice to see you."

There’s a time for politeness, but you’re tired, injured and in no mood for this. "Fuck off Snape. Where’s your nearest master?"

"Watch your tongue boy," Snape growls. You walk by him, ignoring him following the sound of Fawkes. Kwan looks at you, pulls a Blood Replenisher out and tosses it your way. Shit! Do your glamours fool anyone!   You’ll have to work on those glamours, but you drink the Replenisher nonetheless.   Hack is looking at the dead Mrs. Norris and rubbing his jaw.

Back in the trophy room, Dumbledore, with his arm in a conjured sling and bandages wrapped around his head, is interrogating the portrait of his predecessor. McGonagall’s body lies covered by a sheet, returned to her human form. You feel slightly empty. You’ll never get to have the "who’s the ‘real’ Animagus" discussion with her. Starting to get that same maudlin feeling that you did after Cedric’s death, you cut it off viciously. She was a fully trained witch with a lifetime of experience. She wasn’t a kid competing in a tournament that found himself in way over his head.

"I’ll never betray my creator." Here you thought that Riddle needed a hobby. Apparently, he paints.

The Headmaster gestures with his wand and the echo inside the portrait screams. "Dippet! There is nowhere else for you to run," You can hear the frustration in the Headmaster’s voice. "Even if there is another portrait of you, you need my permission to exit the school grounds. You will answer my questions." Wonder if that spell would work on good old Mrs. Black.

"You’ll have to destroy me Albus. Do you have it in you?"

You interrupt, "He may not, but I do. Consider your wish granted."

Dumbledore shields your Blasting Curse sending it careening wildly into the wall. "No! It’s what he wants. The echo could leave Hogwarts if this frame is destroyed. We will have your secrets Armando."

The old geezer in the painting scoffs at both you and Dumbledore. "What are you going to do? I won’t talk and there is nothing short of destroying my frame that can affect me. You always did have a problem admitting that you were beaten, Albus."

"I beg to differ, old friend," The Headmaster is calm now, his studied politeness returned to his voice. "I will take you back to my office, where I have dozens of paintings of our predecessors. You are correct in thinking that ‘I’ cannot adversely affect you. That said, I do believe Phineas Nigellus and Madame Derwent are more than capable of loosening your tongue." Dippet’s eyes seem a bit less haughty and slightly more fearful.

Its reassuring to see ‘the greater good’ can be applied under other circumstances. Too many times during the summer, you had written him off as a senile old fool. He isn’t. Dumbledore gets others to do his dirty work for him — plausible deniability, the politician and crime lord’s best friend. He puts the pieces in place and steps away to ‘maintain a safe distance’. You understand how he operates now. That should help you from falling further into his web.

Dumbledore removes the damaged painting from the wall, first checking for any remaining traps and shrinks it, placing it in a small bag. You watch him cast a Silencing Charm on it before he turns back to look at you, peering through the illusions and seeing your real appearance.

"Argus did not go without a fight did he? I hope you dispatched him as painlessly as possible."

"How did you know he was dead?"

"The same pocket watch that allows me to monitor the wards also allows me to monitor the well-being of my staff. As soon as Fawkes freed me, I was able to determine that Argus had met his end. Do you wish to talk about it?"

You hadn’t considered that. How do you feel about killing Filch? You do a mental tally in your head. You’ve become pretty desensitized to all this. "Not really. He made his choice. I don’t think he’d be crying to his master about killing us."

"You may come out now, Severus. I have secured the portrait."

Snape walks into the room. He pauses for a moment and looks at the body covered by the sheet. "Tell me what you know of the portrait," demanded Dumbledore in a much harsher tone than you expected.

"I’d rather not discuss this in front of the boy." That raises a few of your hackles, but considering the new light you’re seeing the old man in, Dumbledore has reasons for all his actions.

"Indulge me Professor Snape. Harry has assured me that his mind is protected from our enemy. I have verified our privacy. We can speak as freely here as in my office."

Snape actually scowls at Dumbledore. Now there’s something worth seeing! "Dippet was the Dark Lord’s spy in you sanctum for years. He reported to me every night when I made my patrols. When summoned, I provided enough information to the Dark Lord to spare myself retribution and still give you the hope of defeating him."

"The portrait arrived long before you began teaching here, Severus.   Do you know to whom it reported before you?"

"My guess is Kettleburn.   I only learned of the portraits existence after the return of the Dark Lord, but I know it was reporting to someone during the first war."  

You recall the former Care of Magical Creatures instructor.   He was a rather unsavory individual.

"So Kettleburn was a Death Eater?"

"I had my suspicions, Harry.   At the very least he was a sympathizer.   In retrospect, it makes perfect sense.   After retiring, Marcus perished on an expedition in Central Europe."

Snape looks thoughtful, "He was heading for Albania, wasn’t he?"

"That would be a logical conclusion.   I had heard that the group ran afoul of a pack of Vampires and dire wolves in Transylvania.   At the time I mourned his passing, but it may have delayed Voldemort’s return by a year.   I am most disappointed that you did not tell me of the painting."

"It was regrettable, but my position required it, Headmaster.   I filtered the information I was passing to an acceptable level."

No one is stopping you from asking questions, "So what kind of things were you telling him?"

"Your temper tantrum in the Headmaster’s chambers after you saw something in the Pensieve. I left out the part about the remainder of the prophecy. He wished to know which Order members were on guard at the Department of Mysteries. I assure you, his attack on Arthur Weasley was intentional."

The idiotic old version of Harry Potter chooses that moment to resurface. "You could have warned him!"

"Fool! Of course, I could not! Do you honestly believe I would expose myself for a Weasley? The Dark Lord specifically wanted to kill him to send a message to you. I also did not know which night he intended to attack, but justifying my actions to a child like you serves no purpose."

Dumbledore interrupts the glaring match the two of you begin. "What have you not told him?"

"Many things. Perhaps first and foremost, that you are searching for his Horcruxes. I assume the item floating next to Potter is one of them and whatever the boy was doing in South America with Bill Weasley involved one as well. You are unlikely to be able to cover something of this magnitude up. He will know what you are up to. I suspect he already knows because of Potter’s new status in Brazil."

"Assume what you need to, Severus. We will manufacture a suitable story to tell the Ministry. We shall say that Minerva was bringing the cursed necklace to Filius.   She wished to do everything possible to aide in Miss Bell’s recovery.   Filius was not in his classroom and when she investigated it herself, the object exploded causing the devastation and the unfortunate deaths of Minerva and Argus."

It was a paper thin at best, but it had enough truth in it. Your job is to simply go along with it — a bright and shining lie. Dumbledore eventually asked Snape to assist the other professors in clearing the passageways. He did not wish for them to see her body. Kwan approaches and begins casting diagnostic charms on you.

Dumbledore starts floating the body away. You stop him while Kwan is reopening and closing one of the wounds on your leg to minimize the scars as you add healing spells to the list of things you still need to get better at. Gesturing to the Horcrux still floating in the air, you ask, "Dumbledore, what about this?"

He simply gives you a dismissive wave. "Wait until I leave and do what you need to do, Harry. I defer to your experience in safely destroying these objects. Do be careful. The elves and your troll will ensure that you are not disturbed."

"Aren’t you afraid it will detonate?"

"No Harry, if it were a magical bomb, it would have already detonated and killed us. I am certain, Mr. Kwan is perfectly capable of shielding you and to be honest, I’d rather not watch you cast a killing curse. It would be yet another reminder of how I have failed to prevent the desperate times we now live in. I will send for you when the Minister arrives, be certain to cast enough spells to clear the residue of that spell from your wand. I would recommend vanishing debris and using cleaning charms on the floors and walls." Again, he delegates the dirty work and somehow tries to make you feel guilty, damn he’s good!

The two of you watch the "champion of the light" walk off. Kwan turns back to you. "Only difference between Light and Dark is the Light one says he doesn’t like what he is doing, but does it anyway."

You quip as he finishes closing your wound, "Just says he doesn’t like it?"

"Accomplished liars, they save their greatest lies for themselves." Kwan’s always good for a pithy saying or two.

Kwan conjures a pedestal to put the Horcrux on and begins working on a solid barrier constructed of rubble and reinforced with his magic. Five minutes pass before he declares the barrier satisfactory. There’s a chunk of Tom Riddle’s soul that needs to be destroyed.

You search your heart for hatred, loathing, and anger to fuel the spell. Not surprisingly, there’s more than enough. "Avada Kedavra!" The green ray of light leaves your wand and you crouch behind the shield Kwan prepared for you. Riddle’s Special Service Award shatters into thousands of tiny wooden needles, most of them heading for you. They impact on Kwan’s barrier and fall uselessly to the ground. Kwan leaps around the corner and begins vanishing them as they start to rise like a swarm of insects in a bad cartoon.

"Your curse was strong enough to destroy it." Kwan observes.

"Yeah, thanks." You almost gave a cheeky answer back but you do feel more than a little sickly after casting it.

"It wasn’t a compliment. Don’t grow fond of that curse." The Korean says darkly. "Get rest, tomorrow we start training again. Used Pensieve to watch you fight against dark wizard at airport — your footwork is slow, sloppy and you fight unbalanced. People think everything is about arm movements and stupid words. You need more practice dodging."

The sadist walks off leaving you to clean the residue of the Killing Curse from your wand. You know what his dodging exercises are like, you with no wand, while he mercilessly casts spells at you. Tomorrow doesn’t promise to be a good day.

A scorched piece of engraved metal with the name Tom Riddle is all that remains of his Horcrux. You inspect it with several diagnostic spells, but it shows no signs of active magic and only trace amounts of dark magic. You wrap it in cloth and carry it away.

------

You relax in your bed working your way through Veras Chilotha’s personal grimoire. It’s decidedly darker than most anything your copy of Golinard’s Field Cursebreaking Manual has to offer. It’s slow going, especially given how he wrote most of his notes in Toltec. Essentially, it is about warding to kill and very light on shields. In fact, some of his schemes employed a false shield designed solely to absorb a spell and become the trigger to a much larger attack. Shields as triggers, it’s an intriguing concept; you’d have to ask Bill for his take on it. If Chilotha had been smarter and warded the Gringott’s branch after possessing Collins, you probably wouldn’t have won.   It’s nice that people continue to underestimate you.   Sadly, you know it can’t last.

Dumbledore is obviously trying to impress you with your accommodations. The room is very nice, rivaling the splendor of the rooms at the Colastos estate, with only a slightly less badass bathtub, which took some of the edge off your bruises. It is as much as an upgrade from the Gryffindor dorms, as the dorms were an upgrade form the smallest bedroom on Privet Drive. On the wall is a frame for Phineas Nigellus. You told him in no uncertain terms that unless he is coming to deliver a message from Dumbledore, that you didn’t want to ever see him in this room.

Dobby brought you a hot meal as soon as you exited the tub and was overjoyed to see you. Perhaps, just a little bit too overjoyed to see you, but still, it’s good to see the little elf. You still need to find your owl and your broom.

Fleur and Bill are across the hall. Kwan’s room is next to theirs. In the heavily modified room to your right is Hack, resting from numerous cuts and bruises from his fight with the enchanted suits of armor and the furniture golem. The room to your left with a connecting door leads to the Head Girl’s suite. The reason you know this is she just came into your room through that door wearing a pair of oversized flannel pajamas.

She looks like she’s been crying and now she wants to talk. It makes you wonder if you can stupefy yourself in the next few seconds before she opens her mouth.

"Harry? Is it true? Is Professor McGonagall really dead?" Too late, now stunning yourself would just be plain rude. You could always stun her…

"Yes." No sense in sugar coating it.

She sobs a bit more and sits uninvited on the edge of your bed. In a decidedly ironic twist, you consider telling her that you’re studying and to leave you alone. Toltec translations are hard enough without some sobbing bint distracting you! Sighing, you set the book aside. She must be really distraught to not even look at the books on your nightstand.

Giving credit where it is due, Hermione tried to comfort you when Sirius first died and she probably just lost her idol. You should be a bit more accommodating, even if her comfort was poor at best. "If it makes any difference, I don’t think she suffered very long."

Hermione looks up at you, tears running down her cheeks. "How did it happen? Was it the Killing Curse? No, I don’t want to know!" She’s becoming hysterical. You start to move, but keep the covers around you. No sense in showing her that you sleep in the nude — all part of your master plan to keep Riddle out of your dreams. Unless, he also happens to be an extremely rare Jaguar Animagus, he’ll probably be confused and perhaps even assaulted by what he sees should he attempt a mental intrusion. The clothes would change with you, but this somehow feels more comfortable.

Shows a level of maturity on your part, you’re starkers under the covers with an emotionally troubled girl on the bed and you’re not thinking of making a move on her. You could only imagine what Skeeter would do with this scene.

You should probably say something. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"She was the one to come to my house and explain the Wizarding World to me… She even did her transformation for my parents… They were so very impressed." Hermione lets loose with an undignified snort and you conjure a tissue for her. She starts to use it but then stops and looks at it for a second before blowing her nose.

"That’s was a very nice Conjuration, Harry." she says as you Vanish it. Like Transfiguration, the more power, competency, and practice you put into your wandwork, the better your results will be. Nothing like life in the jungle to get you adjusted to a life of conjuring and vanishing paper-based products. Yours even has a nice little HJP monogram on one corner and tiny jaguars on the other three corners.

She prattles on about Professor McGonagall for another fifteen minutes. Here you thought she had a serious Dumbledore fixation! You continue to offer inane platitudes and distract yourself with runic translations in your head. There’s this one set of Mayan runes that no one ever figured out. These three runes are found near several of their sites. It could be something very important or it could be the signature rune of a Breaker that lived a long time ago. Either way, they are rather pretty patterns and do absolutely nothing except glow softly when connected to a charging rune and a controller rune.

Bill has a unique way of learning runes. In his mind he translates first into Norse, then to Celtic and from there he will translate into Egyptian — Breaking is generally a regional thing. You are truly the sum of your experiences. Right now, if one were to assess the Breaking style of one Harry James Potter, they would find you’re pretty much a straightforward Norse rune crafter with a dash of South American influences.

Wait just a damn second, what did Hermione just say? "I’m sorry could you repeat that?"

"I said, ‘That I’ll do it.’ I’ll sleep with you. The castle obviously isn’t safe. We need all the protection we can get and if this will help strengthen the wards then we should do it." The underweight witch looks up from her limp messy, brown hair, red-faced from crying, and with a snot bubble in one nostril. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want some of that!

Oh hell! You said that to get a rise out of her and Dumbledore. Now here she is agreeing to shag.

"Harry, say something."

"No."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I meant that I don’t want to sleep with you."

"But the wards, your oath…"

"Charged just fine at Privet drive and I didn’t particularly care for the Dursleys. We’ll give them a few days of us being in proximity before we do something drastic. Tonight’s attack was internal rather than external. The wards wouldn’t have done a damn thing!"

She looks confused, "Why did you say that to Professor Dumbledore?"

"Because I could! He needs to be reminded who he’s screwing over. You need to wake up, Hermione or he’ll use you again the next time he needs a willing dupe. Hell, by the end of the conversation, he was probably already thinking whether or not you’d need a love potion to get you in the right frame of mind."

She starts to protest, but then shuts her mouth. "You’re not going to forgive me for my part in this are you?"

"Why should I?"

She appears hurt at first and then slightly angry. "You say the Headmaster manipulated me and I have apologized for going along with it. Maybe  I wasn’t worldly enough to prevent getting tricked by the Headmaster, so you’re going to hold that against me. Even with your suspicions, he was able to trick you into that oath. I’m asking for your forgiveness."

"He got me with the oath because he knows I need him. I need his help finding Helga’s cup. I already know where the other remaining one is. I could also use his help fighting Riddle. Unless he Obliviated you, you know the prophecy, so he needs me to kill his Dark Lord."

Hermione shrinks slightly at the implication that Dumbledore would Obliviate her. Was she up in the office when he casually said he’d have done it because you mentioned Horcruxes to her? Now you know why Snape is always calling students Dunderheads.

"How can you be certain that he’s never Obliviated you before?   He mentioned that he would let you keep the information on Horcruxes.   Could that mean he didn’t let you keep other things?"

She’s pretty stunned by your accusations.   You’ve no proof of this, but since when does anything in the wizarding world require proof?  

"I want to help you, Harry. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I made a bad choice and listened to the Headmaster. Please forgive me."

You shake your head at her. "What would have happened if you and the Weasleys recaptured me?   Go ahead say it.   I’d have been Obliviated again and fed even more love potions.   Then, when Dumbledore finally discovered what happened, what would he have done if he found me chasing after the wrong girl and messing with his precious schemes?"

"You’re right.   What can I do to regain your trust?"

 "Well, don’t hold your breath.   It’s not going to happen overnight.   We’ll be civil to each other, but let’s not rush into anything."

"You can’t turn your back on five years of friendship!" she screeches.

"Why not? You did it before me. Don’t! Don’t bother saying you were just trying to help. What’s the old adage, ‘The road to hell’? I’m not saying we won’t ever be friends again. I’m just not in the mood to give out any free passes. Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. You’re going to have to earn my respect and right now you don’t have any."

She turns away from you and does the crying thing for a minute. You don’t bother with any consolations. What would you say? You’re sorry that she betrayed you and you don’t plan on forgiving her anytime soon. Maybe you should just shag her to shut her up. Bill keeps saying that there is no such thing as bad sex, but you suspect this might be the exception to that rule.

You turn your thoughts to something more useful, "Hermione, you said that you wanted to help me. Instead of worrying about whether we’re friends or not, we’ll start with what you are planning to do to help me in the war. Since, we’re going to be around each other, it might as well be productive."

She snorts a few times, "I was thinking of ways to help you fight Voldemort." Fortunately, most Muggleborns find odd with the whole "not-speaking-his-name" thing.    

"Go on," you say.   She’s naïve, but she is intelligent. Give her a chance before you dismiss what she has in mind.

"Well, with enough practice and training, I think by the end of the year we can become Animagi. It’ll be harder now that Professor McGonagall is … gone, but if we apply ourselves it can happen. I already have three books on the subject and I am outlining the major differences between the three approaches. I’ve made notes and a chart with milestones on it. Hopefully, you’ll end up with a form that you can use for a quick escape. You’ll also need to learn how to Apparate as soon as possible."

Your hopes of something interesting fade. It’s tempting to take off your Jaguar totem and see if she gets any reaction at all from touching it. Somehow, you doubt it. You fake a smile and try to show some enthusiasm for her ideas. No need to burst her little bubble today. She agrees to do her homework quietly in the same room with you for your time together, and then heads off to her suite.

------

You flex your paws from a good night’s rest. Sleeping in your Jaguar form has some benefits, nice benefits. The body feels much more natural and is easier to get into a comfortable position. Monday morning at Hogwarts, you wonder what class you are supposed to attend or should you wait for the Minister to come.

Transforming, you dress in nice but plain robes. Exiting the visitor’s quarters, you opt to go to breakfast. There’s someone sitting on the floor at the end of the hallway quietly singing to herself.  Radishes for earrings are such an environmentally friendly choice.

"Hello Luna," you say approaching her.

She smiles upon seeing you and stands. "Hello Harry. I’m sorry to hear about Professor McGonagall. Are you okay?"

"I’ve been better. Then again, I’ve been worse." It’s rather refreshing to see someone with your best interests at heart.

"Would it hurt if I gave you a hug?"

"It depends on if you squeeze a bruise, but go ahead and try and we’ll see what happens." In a way, it is fresh and innocent. Karina was brash, desperate to save her son, and rather seductive. Amy was just plain naughty and you might add extremely flexible. Lauren was straightforward and intensely emotional.

She wraps her arms around you. Luna’s very guarded and seems overly nervous. Your correspondence relationship was turbulent at times, but on the whole it was very rewarding. She’s young, secretive, and insecure. You have some doubts whether anything will actually work between the two of you, but it’s worth a try. Putting your own arms around her lithe body, you pull her tightly to you. Her size basically allows you to put your face in her hair. She uses a vanilla shampoo, but the scent is overpowered by the vegetation she wears as jewelry and the corks from the butterbeer bottles.

Ten or fifteen seconds later, the two of you separate. Her fair complexion makes her blush all too easy to spot.  Whether she knows it or not, she’s helping you forget the horrors of last night.   You ripped a man to pieces with claws and teeth.   It’s not the first time and you’re fairly certain it won’t be the last.   Every "true" Animagus must decide one thing for themselves, are you more than human, or less than human?   The Daemonic attributes of your jaguar form are troubling, but you play the cards dealt to you, even if Dumbledore is trying to stack the deck.

A clearing throat interrupts the two of you and you turn to see the wanton beauty that is Fleur Delacour. She gives you a hug and a chaste peck on both cheeks. "Welcome back Harry. It does my heart good to see you again."

"How is Bill?"   Why is it anytime you’re around an interested female and Fleur at the same time that you end up feeling like you just got caught doing something?

She breezes past you and answers. "He still sleeps. I am angered that he chose to have a pain blocking spell rather than immediately see a healer, but I understand his reasons for that choice. I will reprimand him suitably. For now, I am off to fill myself with one of these fattening English breakfasts so that I will have extra energy with which to properly reprimand William."

One thing you’ve learned about a Veela in love is that damn near everything coming out of her mouth is a euphemism for sex. Too bad Dumbledore can’t hire her to teach History of Magic; at least the male population would stay awake in class.

"Don’t you want to know what happened last night?"

Fleur smiles, "Yes, but you will tell William when he wakes. I will be there. I can assume that since the castle is not in flames that we are safe for the moment. Besides, you wish to speak with this young lady and not me." You recall Luna’s letter where Fleur implied that she would marry Bill and take you for a lover until Gabrielle was ready for you, if Luna did not remove her head from her arse. If Luna was not here, it would be tempting to mention it, but since she is, it would be rather rude.

Two other people are approaching. It looks like alone time might not be coming anytime soon. You recognize Charlie Weasley followed by Cho Chang. He’s holding something near and dear to your heart — a Firebolt high performance racing broom. He greets his future sister-in-law with an affable hug and receives a kiss on his cheek.

"Good morning, Harry. I believe this belongs to you. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ride it, but I did my best to keep it in excellent shape." He hands you the broom and you inspect it. It is in excellent shape. You nod and ask Luna to hold it.

She smiles with her faux-dreamy look on her face and begins to sweep with it. The shock on Charlie’s and Cho’s faces at seeing her do this mirrors your own — a top of the line racing broom being used to chase dust bunnies around the stone floors. You could sooner picture Uncle Vernon being asked to haul a load of manure in the back of his BMW. After a moment, she stops and looks puzzled. "The bristles are too close together. I’m afraid that it’s not a very good broom."

Trying your best to not to laugh at Luna and ignore her at the same time, you look at the second oldest and stockiest Weasley. "So, Charlie, what have I been up to? Good to see you again, Cho."

"Not much until the past few days. Rumor has it that it wasn’t a very good deception. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I can go back to being me."

The other Ravenclaw in the hallway mutters, "I don’t know, it worked on quite a few people."

A momentary look of hurt crosses Charlie’s face. "Cho and I are off to have a long overdue talk. When Bill wakes up, I’ll have him set me straight about what’s really going on. Here’s your course schedule. Some elf named Dobby should have brought all your books to your room. I’m just glad you weren’t taking Arithmancy!   I don’t know what you and Professor Dumbledore agreed on, but you normally have Defense and Potions today."

You thank Charlie and nod to Cho as the two of them head off. The age difference is actually less than the one between Bill and Fleur, but it still seems rather odd. If you followed these things, it’d make you curious if they were going to last. Unfortunately, you have other problems and other things to worry about.

Turning to Luna, you extend your hand. She looks impish as she hands you your high performance floor cleaner.

"Wait here," you instruct her.

You walk back into your room, pull the Dragonfly out of its case and bring it back out to her.

"This broom saved my life several times out in the jungle.   It’s almost as important to me as my Firebolt.   I want you to have it.   It’s only about as fast as the newer Cleansweeps, but it’s very maneuverable.   I out flew two dragons on this thing."

If possible, her eyes get even wider.   "Thank you, Harry.   I don’t know what to say."   She’s gobsmacked.

Luna deserve a little cheek for that stunt with you broom.   "Just think of me every time you put it between your legs.   Now, I need some breakfast.   Are you coming?"

It’s nice to see Luna Lovegood speechless.

-----

The Minister had already come and gone.   Dumbledore informed you at breakfast that he had dealt with Scrimgeour without dragging you into it.   You wonder what repercussions will come out of that meeting.   Dumbledore doesn’t look happy, but as always, he fails to offer any further details.   A remembrance ceremony for the brave Professor McGonagall and caretaker Filch was announced for this coming Saturday.   You wouldn’t be able to attend.   That night you would be playing politician at the Brazilian Embassy.   Most surprisingly, classes had not been cancelled except for Transfiguration.   The explanation that Professor McGonagall would not have wanted classes cancelled under any circumstances was believable to all the sheep here.

You turn more than a few heads eating with Luna at the Ravenclaw table. Additionally, you aren’t wearing Hogwarts robes either, just a simple set of black robes.   Ron enters holding hands with Lavender Brown.   He drags her over towards you with a big goofy smile on his face.

"Hey Harry. Bloody good to have you back!"

"Ron, Lavender," you offer in a neutral, but less than friendly voice.

He looks a bit confused.   "What’s with the shirty… oh, wait!   You probably think I was part of all this, don’t you?"

"Well, I wouldn’t know now would I?   That Quidditch Captain badge looks mighty nice on you.   I’m trying to figure out which of you is the bigger sell out."

"Come on Harry, let me explain!   You don’t have all the facts."

"I’m eating breakfast with a real friend."   Noticing more than a few Ravenclaws staring, you respond, "Go away, Weasley.   You’re annoying me. "

Luna stops juggling her three rolls, dips one in the dollop of jam she has on her plate and takes a bite.   "Good morning, Ronald, does Millicent know about your relationship with Lavender?"

Now he looks even more confused.   "What?   I don’t know, why?"

She returns to juggling again and answers, "The nargles all over the castle are whispering about your torrid affair with Millicent.   I’m surprised that she isn’t the jealous type."

An eavesdropping Terry Boot spews his milk all over his girlfriend, Mandy Brocklehurst, upon hearing that statement.   As Ron sputters a denial, Luna turns to Terry and asks him if he is afflicted with Blofniar’s syndrome.   According to her, it causes people to randomly expel white fluid from all parts of his body.   Now everyone except Terry and Mandy is howling with laughter.   It continues when Luna says that a ceremony involving a live sheep could be used to cure this affliction.

The entertainment ends when the head girl comes over to get you.   You detect a bit of tension between Hermione and Ron.   Considering he’s dating Lavender, it’s not surprising.   As she leads you back to the visitor’s wing, she explains that the house elves have brought a problem to her attention and she seems to believe that you should solve it.  

"I think it’s fashionable."   You don’t really, but being around Luna brings out your humorous side and she would definitely get a kick out of this.

"Harry!   You can’t let your troll wear Mrs. Norris as a pelt!   It’s disgusting!"

"Everyone hated her and you know it."

"That’s not the point!   It’s…it’s bloody sick!"

It’s tempting to say something about her language, but she’s already spun up enough.   The smell coming from Hack’s room was your first clue.   Well, really it was your second clue.   The engorged pelt of that wretched beast  strapped across his three meter tall frame was your first clue.   He looks rather proud of himself and you’ve got to admit it has a sense of style.   You wonder what the local female mountain trolls would think.

"Hack likes."

Hermione is ready to explode; perhaps you should throw her a bone.   "Buddy, don’t you need to let the skin dry and cure a few days before you try and wear it?"

"Hack wondered why it felt all sticky."

"Oh God!   I think I’m going to be sick!"   Hermione runs off as Hack eyes Crookshanks appreciatively, no doubt wondering if the furball would make a warmer coat for those less formal occasions where Mrs. Norris’s color would be out of place.   The cat hisses at him and runs after his mistress.

In the end, it takes about thirty minutes to get Hack to take off Mrs. Norris, tell him to take a bath, and convince the house elves to dispose of the carcass and take the pelt to Hagrid for drying and tanning.   Magic could probably do it faster, but you’ve bought yourself a week or so, before Hack will put it on and start terrifying the student body.

All said and done, you’re about fifteen minutes late for your first day with Professor Snape.

------

"You’re late, Potter.   Five points …"

"From the sovereign nation of Brazil?   I’ll be sure to let them know."   You finish for him.   Technically, you’re no longer a Gryffindor.

"I see your time away from us has done nothing to diminish your bloated ego.   Sit down."

Looking around the room, you see Hermione and Ron anxiously looking at you from the front of the room.   You choose instead to sit next to Parvati in the back row.   The Gryffs in general look a bit downtrodden, no doubt still coming to grips with the loss of McGonagall.   Honestly, Sanchez and Thundercloud’s deaths hit you harder, but your former housemates are just kids.   They don’t know what it’s like.

"Hello, Harry."

Snap pounces, "Five points from Gryffindor Miss Patil.   Socialize on your own time and not during my lesson!"   Who didn’t see that coming?

Parvati frowns and glares at her book.   You on the other hand paste a stupid grin on your face and stare back at Snape.   Every time he starts to probe you, you break eye contact, wait ten seconds and start staring at him again.   This game goes on for a minute before you raise your hand?

"Yes Potter."

"Is the lesson going to start?   If not, I have other things I could be doing."

It’s Snape’s turn to glare at you.   One row ahead, Dean experiences a coughing fit that sounds oddly like a chuckle being covered by said coughing fit.   Maybe you can lighten the mood for your former housemates?

"Since Mr. Potter is behind in his coursework, a brief review is in order.   Perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me the defining characteristics of an Inferius?"

You almost laugh behind that fake grin.   Of all the questions he could have asked you!   "Well let’s see, at close range they have dull, pasty complexions.   The flesh lacks any real color.   Without the talking and in poor light, they’d look a bit like you."

Seamus seems to have caught Dean’s condition.   With the infirmary still damaged, this could be a problem if it is some kind of outbreak.

Snape wrangles in his emotions that threaten to boil over and isn’t playing anymore.   His calm demeanor and patently annoyed sneer return, "How very droll, Mr. Potter.   Pity this isn’t Potions.   I could ask you how to identify various love potions or we could have a charms discussion about the proper usuage of glamour spells, but I digress.   So now that you have identified an Inferius, do tell us what you plan on doing?"

You let the love potion barb slide, since you’re fairly certain who the brewer was and as much as you’d like to dispute it, your glamours suck.   "I suppose it would depend on the context that I am encountering this Inferius in.   Do I spot it in the middle of Hogsmeade?   In a forest?   On the Quidditch Pitch?   In the ruins of a temple?"

"Don’t stall, Mr. Potter.   You’re supposedly a Journeyman Curse Breaker now.   Surely, you know how to deal with such a minor Dark Creature.   Prove to me you earned that title and that it wasn’t a gift!   Answer the question."

"Okay, without a context, I’ll try to cover all the bases.   If I’m in Hogsmeade, I’ll summon the Aurors and use conjured ropes on it.   Who knows why there’s a zombie roaming around the town?   If there’s more than one of them and I have my broom, I’ll get safely beyond there reach and decide what to do from there.   If there was one here in Hogwarts, it means the wards have collapsed and we have much more pressing problems than a single Inferius…."

"I’ll speak slowly and use smaller words so you can understand, Potter.   How do you combat an Inferius?"

"Oh, I have to fight one, okay.   Reductors or cutting curses to the head area."

"Wrong!   As always, you miss the obvious.   Mr. Malfoy.   What would you do?"

"I would use fire to drive them back."   The smug little ferret shoots you a condescending look from across the room.   You roll your eyes and raise your hand.

"Correct.   Five points to Slytherin.   Yes Potter?   Did the simplest answer confuse you?"

"That really isn’t fighting an Inferius.   My method disposes of it.   His merely drives it off making it either someone else’s problem or forcing you to stand there maintaining a wall of flame until you exhaust yourself.   Then it comes up and starts gnawing on you.   Not to mention if the Inferius is defending something, that stunt is liable to get you killed."   You shudder remembering your own version of the Temple of Doom.   Bill’s still trying to figure out how that serpent ward works.

"Explain, Potter.   Tell us how using such a proven method is incorrect."   He’s actually asking the question and not hurling an insult.

"Well there are two types of Inferius, ones created with potions and ones created by wards.   The wards are the easiest, but can only be used to defend a specific area.   The ones created with potions cost too much per unit to use as defenders.   So, if I’m attacking someone’s lair and they’re using Inferi to protect it, fire is a bad idea.   It’s the first thing most people would use.   Whoever put them there knows that.   There could be flame-sensitive traps.   The floor could be coated with flammable liquid or you could have deposits of methane to deal with.   Again, it’s all about the context.   Fire against attacking Inferi isn’t a bad thing, but against defending Inferi, it’s about the most dunderheaded thing you could do.   Still, I guess the people coming after you will thank you for exploding in a blaze of glory and saving them the trouble of dealing with those things.   The key is to prevent them from overwhelming you.   Their strength is in numbers.   Most can’t fly, so get above them.   If you can’t, make barriers and force them to come at you single file."

You finish your statement to utter silence.   Damn!   You didn’t even get to mention the shotgun.   Everyone except Snape is staring at you like you’ve grown a second head.   That part about most not being able to fly probably threw them for a loop.   Everyone always thinks of them as dead humans, but anything will work.   You could cast the Inferius wards down in the Chamber and see how many it takes to reanimate Salazaar’s serpent.   You wonder if Bill would help.   It’d be one nasty surprise for Riddle if he has a secret entrance down there.   Either that or you should ward the passageway up from the chamber — Field of Screams serving as a trigger to Purple Armageddon.   If you had the plants grow down from the ceiling or out from the walls, they’d be biting at heads instead of legs — oh the possibilities!

"A surprisingly insightful answer Potter, perhaps you’ve finally learned to listen to your betters. Though, I’d be skeptical about placing my life in your less than capable hands."   He stops for a second to leave that insult hanging before continuing.   "Today’s lesson is a continuation of wordless magic for those of you still not able to comprehend it.   Potter!   What are you doing?"

"Leaving."   It’s utterly amazing how much being in life or death situations can push your limits.

"Why?"

In response, you wordlessly cast an opening charm on the door and exit.   If anyone wants a tutor, you’ll send them to Kwan for his thrilling three day crash course.   Naturally, you’ll advise them to finish it in two days, or else.  

Either way, you should go find the Korean and introduce him to the Room of Requirements.   Instead of wasting a morning watching people fail at wordless magic, you should be training, carving, and preparing.   Your first few days back at Hogwarts have left you with a nervous energy.   You don’t have enough allies and there are too many people you simply can’t trust.   It’s going to get a lot worse before things get any better.

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