Chapter 5 - Of Wards and Wizards

Late that afternoon, Harry woke up to find himself in empty rooms. A glance at the clock told him it was approaching five o'clock and he groaned, knowing that he would have hell getting to sleep that night. Stretching lazily, the raven haired teen contemplated what he still needed to do that evening. He wasn't looking forward to the conversation with Hermione, but he knew it needed to be done. He remembered the feeling of having to find out about his heritage on his own, and the pain and anger of realizing Dumbledore had kept even this from him. He frowned deeply, feeling the rage start to course through his veins. Viciously clamping down on the emotion, Harry rose and looked around his room.

When he had first come to Hogwarts that summer, he had, at first, been housed in the Gryffindor dorms. After Madam Pomfrey released him from the Infirmary, that is. It had very quickly become obvious that the House of Gryffindor was no longer the place for him. At first, Harry hadn't understood the broken glass in the middle of the night, the torn bedcurtains when he woke up, or the fireplace that just got hotter when he tried to put it out at night, but now he suspected that his approaching majority, combined with his newly discovered Slytherin heritage, hadn't sat very well in the House of Lions.

So they looked for somewhere else to house him. Though he was to be Head Boy this year, the Head Boy's private room was in Gryffindor Tower, which wouldn't solve the problem at all. They had finally settled on a suite in one of the less used portions of the castle. The area was once used for long term visitors, and therefore was fairly accessible, but still far enough out of the school's normal pathways as to avoid interrupting classes. Snape had, of course, opposed this choice rather fiercely, but Dumbledore had kindly pointed out that Harry would need the privacy in the upcoming school year so he could get out to feed anyway. The reminder of Harry's vampirism had effectively silenced the surly Potions Master, who spent the next week looking as though he had swallowed one of his particularly foul concoctions.

Harry himself was really rather satisfied with the outcome. His new suite was basically a three bedroom flat, complete with kitchen. One of the rooms he had converted into a potions lab – he had no desire to risk contaminating his pantry with anything potentially lethal, nor did he want to blow up his kitchen in case anything went wrong. In the living room, decorated in muted shades of forest green and tarnished gold, his summer homework was spread out on his coffee table, and he could tell that Hermione had looked through it at least briefly.

He sighed, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. He needed to have that talk with her, and he wasn't looking forward to it. After all, it was his fault that the only parents she had ever known were murdered in front of her. He scrubbed his face with cold water, steeling himself against her reaction, and left his rooms.

The Great Hall always looked empty over the summer – it seemed almost desolate to Harry, except for the magic of the castle humming through the air. During the winter hols, the teachers were at least there, and a few students. Now however, with a mere seven occupants, it felt as though they were nothing more than a group of stragglers in a fortress far too large for their needs. The quiet of the hall was made louder by the echo of knives on porcelain. No one spoke, except when Professor Dumbledore greeted him. Professor Snape merely sneered at him and went back to his veal. The other two staff members present – Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout – ate quietly, as if knowing something was off with their dinner companions.

Harry, who wasn't very hungry, observed the occupants of the table. Professor Snape looked strained; it added ten years to his already potions-tired face. He stabbed his meat as though to kill it all over again. Harry resisted the urge to inform him that the butcher did this part for him and turned his attention to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore was gazing off into the distance, making Harry want to look over his shoulder to see what was so interesting. The old man had been chewing thoughtfully on the same bite of roast duck for the last ten minutes, hands folded peacefully in his lap, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. It was impossible to determine if the Headmaster was contemplating something as deep as the meaning of the universe, or simply appreciating the culinary genius of the Hogwarts house elves.

Turning his attention to his cousin, the raven haired teen decided he'd need to have a talk with Dudley soon as well. So far the other boy had seen magic that tried to turn him into a pig, and magic used to kill another. He was understandably twitchy. Harry thought about what kind of magics Dudley would like and decided to ask Flitwick to do a demonstration if he showed up soon. Charms were definitely up Dudley's alley, as was dueling, which was as close as wizards came to boxing. If the diminutive professor could teach Dudley how to float and how to defend himself, Harry could see the boy coming out of his shell much easier.

Turning to his right, Harry's heart broke to see Hermione looking like her world was over. Her intelligent brown eyes looked dead. "Hermione," he said quietly. She looked up morosely. "Can we talk?"

She sighed and nodded, beginning to gather her things, but Professor Dumbledore stopped her. "Ah, Miss Granger," he said brightly. "While I agree that you and Mr. Potter should talk, and very soon, I do have some information that he will undoubtedly wish to pass on to you in the course of your discussion. Would you mind terribly if an old man went first?" Hermione shook her head, smiling faintly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Perhaps you could show young Dudley around the castle?" the kindly wizard suggested. "I'm afraid I may monopolize quite a bit of Harry's time this evening."

Seeing Hermione's nod of agreement, Harry stood to go with the Headmaster, gripping his friend's shoulder briefly, trying to let her know he was there for her. He wondered when she would talk again. Probably when she's cursing me for killing her parents, he thought bitterly.

The walk to the Headmaster's office was silent; only Professor Snape's robes made any sound as they moved with the tall man's stride. Reaching the large round room, Harry was told to sit. The dour Potions Master took up a position beside the fireplace and crossed his arms, glaring forebodingly at him.

"I'm afraid you've put us in a bit of a tight spot, Harry," Professor Dumbledore began, folding his hands on his desk and watching Harry intently. "You are set to inherit the wards on this castle on your birthday, a feat which has not happened since 1447. Unfortunately, I can no longer allow this to happen—"

"What!" Harry gasped, sitting up straight.

"Never in the thousand year history of this school has a witch or wizard achieved the wards of Hogwarts whilst having anything but the best of intentions for all the students of the school," Dumbledore declared solemnly. "With your actions yesterday, I cannot in good conscience allow you to take the wards from the Headmaster's seat. Not without proof of your intentions. My first duty is to my students."

Harry slumped. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Dumbledore was rejecting him? Hogwarts was rejecting him? "I understand, Professor," he said, dejected.

"However," the old wizard continued. Harry perked up. "If you would be willing to be questioned under Veritaserum as to your motives and intentions, we can put this nasty business behind us."

"Absolutely, Professor!" Harry nodded vigorously, relieved that there was a solution to his problem.

"Wonderful!" Dumbledore exclaimed happily. "Severus, if you will?"

"Gladly, Headmaster," Snape said, sneering at Harry. Coming forward, the swarthy man reached into his robes and withdrew the little vial. Staring the man dead in the face, Harry stuck his tongue out for the potion.

As far as acts of defiance go, he thought wryly. This one is slightly childish.

Three drops fell onto his tongue and Harry felt all his worries disappear. He felt weightless, like he was floating in a cloud. Then the questions came.

"What is your name?" Hmm… Harry's mind observed mildly. This is almost like the Imperius Curse.

"Harry James Potter-Black."

"When were you born?" I wonder if I could fight it off.

"July 31, 1980."

"Why did you seek out Tom Riddle?" I didn't seek out Riddle, I sought out Lucius, his mind corrected the questioner absently.

"I didn't."

"What!" Snape exclaimed, furious. "Headmaster, the boy has fought off the potion! He told us himself that he was with Riddle yesterday!" Harry just sat there with a dopey grin on his face.

"Severus, let me rephrase the question," Dumbledore said. "I believe I may have mixed up a fact or two. Harry, why did you seek out Lucius Malfoy?" That one is right, Harry's detached mind agreed.

"I was angry."

"What were you angry about?" I really want to know if I can break through this potion.

"I had just put together all the information you hid from me about my heritage."

"Do you think your anger was rational in reference to my actions?" No, I need to get through this one under the potion.

"No."

"What are your intentions toward the students of this castle?" Next time, I'll try to break it.

"I don't have any intentions at all toward most of them."

"What students do you have intentions toward?" Well that's a bloody dumb question.

"Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Colin and Dennis Creevy, and Draco Malfoy."

"What are your intentions toward those students?" This is just getting ridiculous.

"I intend to beat Ron Weasley in a game of wizard chess, I intend to take care of Hermione Granger, I intend to avoid Colin and Dennis Creevy, I intend to lock Draco Malfoy out of the loo for a day, I intend to make Draco Malfoy fly into the pitch, and I intend to knock the piss out of Draco Malfoy once before graduation." So there.

"Well then, I think we're done," Dumbledore declared brightly, eyes twinkling madly. If Harry hadn't known any better, his muddled mind would have to decide that the old wizards eyes were laughing at him. "Severus?"

"One more question, Headmaster," the Potions Master said smoothly. "Potter, do you have any ill intentions toward myself or any other staff member or guest of this castle?"

"No." Greasy git.

Seemingly satisfied, Snape poured a vial of potion down Harry's throat and Harry felt the cloud that had been holding him dissolve.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together happily. "Now that's taken care of," he said. "We need to talk about the wards." Harry leaned forward. "Your birthday comes in less than a week – that is, this coming Monday. Sunday night will likely be extremely painful for you, I'm sorry to say. On Sunday evening, you will need to take a ritual purification bath – it will remove any and all magic from your body. I would advise forgoing your special sun cream for the day. When you receive the wards, you must have no trace of magic on your skin or in your body. This means that anything you eat that day must be prepared by you, without magic, as any food that is cooked through magical means puts magic in your system. Should you receive the wards with magic in your system, it will be removed forcibly before you can fully bond with the castle. I'm told this is a very painful experience.

"We do have a ritual room specifically for the passing of the wards. It is not a requirement that you use this room, but it will make the process much shorter. Do not be surprised if, after your birthday, you sleep for up to five days – the Hogwarts wards are extremely complex and you must understand every aspect of them before you can wake. I will be locking down the castle the night before your birthday to guard against any attacks while you are asleep, since I will no longer be able to manipulate the wards after your birthday.

"There is only one more thing, Harry," Dumbledore said, looking over his glasses at the teen. "Before I will allow you to receive the wards I will require an Unbreakable Vow that you will work with the current Headmaster to protect the students and the school. There may come a time when I will need you to lock down the castle or set a new ward, and I must be assured of your cooperation."

"Of course, Headmaster," Harry said, seeing nothing wrong with this idea.

"Very well then. Severus? Would you mind terribly being our Bonder?" Dumbledore asked the man still standing in the shadows by the fireplace. Snape approached once again as Harry took Dumbledore's proffered hand; this time the dark man held his wand in his hand and placed it so it touched the junction between the two.

"Harry Potter, do you vow to maintain the Wards of Hogwarts to the best of your abilities?" the Headmaster demanded of Harry, his voice holding enough power as to rattle the windows in the office.

Harry swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "I do," he responded, hoping he didn't sound like a lost little boy. A bright rope of flame shot out of Snape's wand and wound itself around their two hands.

"Do you promise, first and foremost, to protect the students of this school to the greatest extent you are able, whether the threat be outside the gates or within these very walls?"

"I do." Another rope of flame shot out of Snape's wand.

"Do you swear to cooperate with the Headmaster of Hogwarts to protect the castle with regards to Her wards, breaking from him or her only when it is in the best interests of the students of Hogwarts?"

"I do." A third rope of fire made their grasped hands practically glow.

"Finally, in the event that this office should ever become corrupted, do you swear to take up the mantle of the Headmaster and guide this school upon the path intended for it by the Lord and Lady Founders of Hogwarts?"

Eyes wide – Dumbledore hadn't mentioned that part! – Harry croaked, "I do."

A fourth rope of brilliant shot out of Snape's wand to wrap tightly around Dumbledore's and Harry's combined hands.

"Your vow is accepted, So Mote It Be." There was a blinding flash, and what seemed like an explosion without sound. Harry's ears popped, and he was left blinking the color spots out of his eyes.

"Harry, before I leave you to talk with Professor Snape, I'd like to answer any questions you may have," Professor Dumbledore offered once Harry could see again.

"Do you know why I've been getting so angry lately, Professor?" Harry asked honestly. "Nothing that's happened seems to warrant it."

The old wizard sighed and stroked his beard. "That is a question that Professor Snape will be answering shortly, Harry, and I freely admit that he is far more knowledgeable in that area than I, so I will leave it to him to explain." He peered at Harry closely over his glasses. "Was there anything else, my boy?"

"Er…" Harry started lamely, not sure he wasn't about to get ahead of himself. "When are we going to take the charm off Dudley?"

"That will be accomplished within the next few days," the Headmaster said. "It would be much safer for young Dudley if you, as a blood family member and the Head of his Family, were to lead the unbinding ritual, but you must be fully rested before that happens. If necessary, we will perform the ritual after you wake up from taking the wards."

Confirming that Harry had no more questions, Professor Dumbledore bade farewell to Harry, leaving him alone with Professor Snape.

The professor was silent for a long time. After a while, Harry, uncomfortable under Snape's scrutiny, started to fidget, wondering what the Potions Master needed to talk to him about. When the man did speak, however, it took Harry by surprise.

"What was the first Dark Arts spell you cast, Potter?" While the question was very direct, it lacked the snide tone Harry had come to associate so closely with Professor Snape.

"Er…" Harry said, flummoxed. "The Cruciatus, I suppose. At the Ministry." He frowned. "But it didn't work, sir."

"That matters not," Professor Snape said dismissively. "And before that? I believe you brewed and consumed Polyjuice Potion in your second year, did you not?"

Harry's ears burned red; Hermione had stolen boomslang skin from the Professor's private stores for that particular potion. "Yes, sir."

"Have you performed any other Dark Arts?" the man asked intently. "Think carefully, Potter, this is vital. Any Dark curse, any use of controlling Mind Arts…even something as small as an Obliviate, such as the one you used on the Headmaster."

Harry thought hard. "Well sir," he said. "I've used Legilimency, but I'm pretty sure that has to do with my vampirism more than any conscious attempt at the spell. And I Obliviated my relatives a couple of times this summer, when they found out I'd been sneaking out to feed. Other than that, I can't think of anything."

"Have you ever done any wandless magic?" Snape asked, continuing his inquiry.

"Other than accidental magic," Harry answered. "I lit up my wand when it wasn't in my hand before fifth year, when the dementors attacked. And I had to practice some this summer so I could Obliviate my relatives wandlessly. My wand still has the Trace on it."

"Of course it does," the Potions Master snorted. "The Trace cannot be removed. It simply wears off after a certain amount of time in the caster's possession." Watching Harry carefully, he continued, "Tell me Potter, do you know why the Unforgivable Curses are unforgivable?"

"Of course, sir," Harry responded, confused. "It's because they're so horrid. Mind control, excruciating pain, and instant death."

Snape sighed and straightened up. "Not quite, Harry," he said. Harry gaped at the use of his first name. "Healers use all three routinely. Potions Masters, Dragon Masters, and Ward Masters all are authorized to implant safety rules into the mind of an apprentice through the use of the Imperius curse. There is a potion called liquid Imperius. Do you know the difference between that potion and Veritaserum?" Harry shook his head mutely. "To liquid Imperius, a dram of undiluted alcohol and a single blade from the feather of a gryphon is added to create Veritaserum. The alcohol loosens the tongue and the gryphon feather prevents any untruths." Ignoring Harry's shocked look, the Potions Master continued. "Epilepsy and Parkinson's disease can be cured through judicious use of the Cruciatus curse. And Healers have another name for the Killing Curse…they call it Mercy." By this point, Harry's jaw felt as though it was resting on the floor, but Professor Snape just continued. "These were the original uses for all three of these spells. Harry, they are not called the Unforgivable Curses because of what they do. It is because of how they work."

Harry's brow furrowed. "I don't understand, sir."

Snape snorted derisively. "That's because Binns is a gibbering idiot and they stopped teaching the theory of Magic," he informed his pupil. "What you learn in Charms class is the theory of Charms; the same is said for Transfiguration. I will never understand how anyone can be expected to do their best without a basic grounding in what makes us wizards and witches." Seemingly settling in for a long lecture, the tall man finally deigned to sit in one of Dumbledore's chintz armchairs, after glaring rather balefully at the ghastly orange and purple paisleys. "Today, Light magic is defined in popular society as 'Good' magic, and Dark magic is 'evil', but this is not the way it always was. Back in the time of Circe, all the way up through the fourth century, the term 'Light' magic was used to define magic that was, simply put, easy. The spells that the weakest of wizards could learn and cast without a problem. In those times, magics like the Patronus charm and Animagus, which we are now taught to be some of the strongest Light magics in existence, were classified as 'Deep' magic. These are the spells, rituals, and potions that required one to reach into his very soul to accomplish. They are also far more impressive. It was this fact, combined with the spread of Christianity through the Roman empire, that led to the change in terms.

"The Christians believed that magic was the work of the devil. The Deep magics required the caster to give more of himself in return for a larger effect. Larger effect, however, meant more exposure, and the Christian Muggles began to call these magics 'Dark'. Over the next four centuries or so, the wizarding community picked up the term and 'Dark' came to mean evil, whilst 'Light' came to mean good. Much of what is considered Dark magic today is simply Deep. It is important to remember that magic, in and of itself, is both good and evil, while being neither at the same time. It is said that Merlin was once asked to define magic, and his response was simply, 'Magic is'. That is the history of the terms, but there is theory to back it up as well.

"Under the old definition, Light magic is magic that requires little more than the ability to manipulate the magic inherent in every living being, a method of focus – whether it be wand, staff, or merely a finger – and will. Will is simply as it sounds – a levitation spell takes nothing more than force of will, just like picking up a heavy weight.

"Deep magic, however, requires much more of the caster. There is no being in existence with the power to simply will someone dead. These magics require an exchange, something of a request, if you will, for assistance from the ambient magic of the Earth. The price of any of these magics is that you bare your soul to Magic and let it see your intent. It takes great personal strength to expose oneself in such a way."

Snape fell silent for a while, and Harry asked, "This is all extremely interesting, sir, but what has it got to do with me?"

The Potions Master continued to sit quietly for a moment, then responded, "I seem to recall you and your friends speculating once, in your first few years of school, whether Draco Malfoy was receiving Dark magic training at home over the summer holidays." He paused, as though waiting for an answer.

"Er…sir?" Harry said, taking a guess. "Are you offering to teach me Deep magic?"

Snape's head snapped up, and the look on his face took Harry by surprise. Eyes blazing, the man said vehemently, "No, I am not, Potter. I am telling you that you must receive training in such things. The exposure of the soul is not a trifle to be committed lightly, and there are consequences. These mood swings you have been having are a dangerous precursor to what could happen. Wizards every bit as powerful as you and more have gone mad trying to delve too deeply into the Deep magics without preparation. To have cast the Unforgivable to is have bared your entire soul to magic – not just the good, as with the Patronus charm, nor the bad, as with a blood-boiling hex, but the entire soul. Imagine a fish from the very floor of the ocean suddenly brought into light, and the effect the sun would have on it, and you will have a glimmer of an idea what it means to expose oneself to such sudden exposure. The soul can become twisted, maimed. Enough abuse and it will eventually die off altogether." Suddenly, Snape was standing, moving toward Harry, and he grasped the boy's chin to pull his eyes up to meet blazing black orbs. "The Dark Lord once had a soul," he said solemnly. "Such a precious possession is far beyond him now."

A/N: Hallelujah! A brand-spankin' new chapter! Not a rewrite! Just a write! See? There IS a reason for Harry's braindead behavior! You nasty reviewer! Have faith, moron! :-D Anywho, let me know what you think. Coming up: the dreaded conversation with Hermione - Will she blame Harry? Or will she understand and forgive him? And what about being an Heir of Gryffindor?

Also featuring: Harry's birthday (maybe) and Dudley-bear goes to Market(for sure)! And who's that sniffing around the Whomping Willow? Don't they know they could get, well, Whomped?