Chapter 6 War and Romance

The day dawned and Harry was confused, puzzled almost when Hermione was nowhere... He had completed his morning run, taken a shower and had gotten used to the good morning kiss from his girlfriend. There was, in his mind simply no better way to start any day of the week. Luna, and Colin – the most recent full time addition to his retinue – were content to watch him search the Residence until finally Luna took pity on him, "Harry, you've no experience with women." She pronounced.

He looked at her as if she really was loony, and then checked himself. He shrugged sheepishly, "Is it that obvious?" Luna smiled, "I'm in trouble aren't I?" the smile broadened, and Colin wisely found that he needed to use the bathroom, "What did I do?" her smile collapsed like a house of cards.

How can he not know? She wondered, and then the a few pieces of the puzzle fell in to place for the Ravenclaw. After all, Ravenclaws were trained to think, analyze, hypothesize and the test the validity of their own logical formulation, "Hermione was injured yesterday, and you, well, you never checked on her… it hurts when your boyfriend doesn't seem to care…" she left her sentence unfinished and watched as it all fell in to place for the young wizard. It was the look on his face, he didn't have to say it, he was already begging for it before he could open his mouth, "Start with an apology, then something romantic…" she said, glancing at her watch, "I have to get to class. "

She left Harry alone on the verge of panic, and in that moment of panic he turned to the only source of assistance readily available, "Dobby!" he shouted. When he laid out the sordid tale for Moony, and Padfoot, and Griphook, the three were outright laughing, or discreetly chuckling like one house elf at just how clueless he was when it came to dealing with a girlfriend. "With a friend, you don't have to visit especially since you had detention with the greasy git," explained Padfoot, "With a girlfriend, it's different."

Fortunately for him, he had enough help to set things up before he dragged his thoughts, worry and concern from his girlfriend to the day's assignments - and he had quite a few. From Moony, he had three years of charms, transfiguration and defense to get through. Griphook left something a single, slim volume entitled, "Gharlen ac Dar: Daan Har" or "Magic and War: The Path" that he would have to read, understand, and summarize the key points of each chapter before their next meeting.

It was just after five in the evening when Harry dispatched the note by fire sprite, and then made his way to his bedroom to for a shower and change of clothes. Defense had been easy enough to review - there was only one year of work to do. Charms and transfiguration had not taken as long as he had thought thanks to the notes he had managed to create and then had Hermione check through from previous years. He still however, had the entire book from Griphook, waiting for him.

The young woman was actually lost, deep in thought, tapping her quill idly against the parchment. She was supposed to be writing a foot long essay on the uses of cheering charms. She had written two inches of text and three inches of sprinkled ink. She kept replaying the conversation that she had with the Headmaster yesterday, during her unfortunate confinement to the hospital wing. The damage done by Malfoy's misfired course had caused her teeth to swell and grow painfully large, and it had taken Madame Pomfrey some time to counter the curse then carefully remove the overly large and inflamed teeth before beginning the painful process of growing the fourteen affected teeth with a variation of the skele-gro potion.

It was then that the headmaster of Hogwarts made his appearance for a friendly talk. Unfortunately, the talk she had with Dumbledore had been one sided in the extreme, considering that she was in no way capable of actually answering any of his questions. It had developed in to a rather bizarre game of yes and no. No she could not condone the many things that Albus Dumbledore had done in his misguided attempts to keep Harry safe. Nor could she overlook a number of other things, including shoddy teaching - Defense against the Dark Arts, Magical History and Divination, which she gladly abandoned, came to mind. Nor could she forgive what he had almost done to Luna, or for allowing Professor Snape to actually set foot in the castle, let alone pretend to teach when in fact he lectured – and lectured badly.

While she could not condone the many mistakes that Dumbledore had made, she could try to understand the reasoning why he had done, what he had done. Moreover, the fatherly professor had spent several hours trying to convince her of his intentions, what he hoped to achieve and why. She had kept track of her questions on a piece of parchment and had, disturbingly received answers to nearly all of her questions that left her reeling. Suffice to say that by the time he was done speaking and surreptitiously waving his wand, she was once again a firm supporter in everything that he hoped to accomplish: Defeat Voldemort with Harry and prevent him from becoming the next Dark Lord. He had convinced Hermione that as Harry's girlfriend, she had a responsibility to do what was right, for the greater good, by any means necessary.

However, on the topic her boyfriend, she could not deny that she did it hurt. He had never shown up, not even bothered to check on her, and not even bothered to ask Luna how she was doing! It was as if he had never noticed her absence at all. Her insecurities rushed forward once again, and this time really threatened to slam her down.

When the fire sprite had flashed in to existence on her desk, she jumped knocking over her ink. Hands coated in black ink, a quick charm and she opened the note from her absentee boyfriend, "It's about time!" she thought crossly as she read the note. She glanced at her watch and realized that she had about an hour and a half, to get ready, "Something nice, but not too dressy."

Her first guess was Luna, but the Ravenclaw, when questioned had said nothing about her conversation with Harry that morning. Left with an hour, she hurried up to her dorm to shower, change and to figure out what exactly she could do with her normally untamable hair.

He was reading "Gharlen ac Dar: Daan Har" and found it simply fascinating, intertwining history, culture, and how it all tied to the Goblin's relationship with magic It was perhaps two hundred or so pages, but it was fascinating reading. It explained how magic, simply is. Light magic or dark magic does not exist. It is the caster's intention that gives magic its good or evil attributes. Even that was a vague business. The simplest of levitation spells – wingardium leviosa – could levitate a person off the side of a building. The Imperius curse could prevent someone from committing suicide. Avada Kedevra grants a quick and painless death to the terminal ill, the grievously wounded, or to simply to cull livestock.

The bottom line was that magic exists and can be tapped by a wizard or witch or any other creature - not necessarily human - and bent to their intent. Intent made magic "light" or "dark." It helped clear several misconceptions from the young man's mind, but also fudged the boundaries of morality somewhat.

Dobby popped in, "Excuse me, Master Harry, but Ms. Granger will be with you momentarily." Nodding his thanks, Harry stood, a little uncomfortable in the new shirt and pants and he made a note that next time he would have to go shopping himself. The house elf had changed, noted Harry. Gone was the excitable - well over-excited - House elf. Now he was the epitome of the perfect, professional. Harry wondered what the Dursley's would make of him having the magical equivalent of a butler at quite literally his simple call.

He greeted Hermione with a smile and a hug, which she somewhat hesitantly returned. He just held her close and whispered quietly "I'm sorry. I was just so self absorbed yesterday. I was an idiot." Hermione was not sure what exactly she should say to the frank and honest admission of guilt, and did the only thing that made any real sense.

"Apology accepted," she whispered back and the two exchanged a brief kiss as they wandered out on to the grounds of the castle, "Tell me something: Where are we going?"

"I thought we'd take a walk along the lake, enjoy the sunset," he grinned, "To start." They did just that, taking time to enjoy a quiet walk, along the lake, following a candle lit path that terminated in a small glen where there was a table setup for a quiet romantic candle lit dinner for two. Nothing simpler or more complicated than a proper first date without the glare and scrutiny of the media, without comments, without people pointing and staring and gawking. Suffice to say the evening was a memory both of them would treasure for all their lives.

Two days later, Harry returned from his morning circuits of the black lake, to find the Goblin waiting for him just outside the Residence, "I was going to suggest that we begin by assessing your physical conditioning. But it would seem that you don't just intend to sit back and passively attempt to survive."

"Yeah," Harry admitted, "I'd like to do everything I can to ensure that I survive. A couple of weeks ago, a lap of the lake would tire me out. Now I think I can get about five or six kilometers in before it starts to hurt."

"I would suggest aiming for about ten kilometers, as that will give you the endurance necessary for an extended duel or whatever other tasks that the tournament may involve," said Griphook, "Have you been using the muggle gym?"

Harry nodded, "Not much… it's just that I'm trying to build some familiarity with the machines and I don't want to kill myself learning how to use them."

Griphook cocked his head, "I neglected to consider that Harry," admitted the Goblin, "Shall I arrange for a fitness instructor?" busy draining his water bottle, Harry just shook his head, "Well then, as the muggle French would say," said Griphook conversationally, "En Garde!"

A lifetime of dodging objects hurled by Dudley and Vernon augmented by three years of Quidditch had given the young man exceptional reflexes. Even so, he was barely able to dodge the first spread of curses that slammed in to the wall sending stone shards flying. The second spread gouged long furrows in to the floor and Harry finally retailed with several minor curses and hexes of his own, which the Goblin deflected and then attempted to side step, right in to the path of banished rock. Stumbled for a moment, the teenager regained his footing and went on the offensive immediately, firing a hex or curse every few seconds. Griphook countered, deflected or simply sidestepped with ease.

A second string of spells flashed towards the Goblin, and if it had surprised him, it did not show as he deflected several of the curses, and shielded himself against a few more. Hermione had entered the fray. Worn out from her morning workout with Harry, and knew she could do little but distract in her condition and was barely able to dodge the return volley. A stunner struck her in the shoulder, flipping her over and out of the fight as her wand rolled from her fingers. That exchange has lasted less than five seconds.

The Goblin turned, shield raised only to find himself on the receiving end of a vicious left-handed punch to the nose. A magical shield only stops magic after all. The blow caused no lasting damage, and did not even hurt that much. However, the fact that Harry had actually landed a blow was encouraging news. He was also quick to react, opened up a ten-foot gap between them, firing spells constantly as he extended the distance.

Harry kept up the pressure, so long as he kept the Goblin on the defensive, eventually, something would break his… "What the…" Harry spun on the spot, in time for a leg locker curse to strike, doubling him over before a full body bind slammed him to the floor.

A moment later the goblin had applied the counter curses and helped the young man to his feet, before doing the same for Hermione. "Not bad," the Goblin nodded, "Admittedly, I was holding back, but you did well. You adapted, and improvised well, but you were easily distracted by my apparition," The Goblin pulled several phials and handed them over, reading the labels, they downed the headache remover and bruise reducer. Hermione requested a rematch, and Griphook felt that he would be delighted. Harry merely glowered at the goblin who returned the look with a hunter's grin, "Care to try again Harry?"

Griphook was secretly pleased that the boy could draw upon his rage and anger. It was an open secret that Goblin's could channel those emotions in battle, but what was not so well known was how. That would come later, for now, Harry was itching for a rematch…

Two hours later Harry was aching, and covered in bruises, minor cuts and scratches and had a headache that made his eyeballs pound. Griphook on the other hand was barely out of breath, "I can hear you wondering, not so much as to why you could not defeat me, but as to why you could not even hit me with a single spell."

"It's ridiculous!" gasped Harry, "You're just too fast!" the boy stood and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Partly," said Griphook, "But the bigger problem is that your repertoire of spells is limited," the Goblin shook his head, "I had hoped that you were exaggerating the poor caliber of your instructors in Defense. However you demonstrate an adequate grasp of most charms, and how they can be used offensively and defensively as well." The following hour was perhaps one of the most instructive in Harry's life, and he paid a great deal of attention. After another two mock duels, in which Griphook simply wiped the floor with Harry, they called it a morning.

The afternoon would be devoted to adding spells to Harry's arsenal, and Griphook mentioned that Hermione had been doing some research in that direction, "Have her join us Harry. I am curious to see what she has found." Harry glanced at his watch and had to ask Griphook about the time, "I think my watch is a little bit off… it says just after ten in the morning."

"You have the correct time Harry. The dueling area is charmed, with some very powerful chronological magic. You are familiar with the concept are you not? You and Ms. Granger shared an adventure, of sorts."

It took only a moment, "Time turner."

"Similar, except that instead of allowing one to move back and forth through time, this merely slows time. Within the confines of the dueling arena and its attendant spaces, time slows to half its normal rate. In essence, you may have three weeks before the first task, but in here, you have much longer than that. The enchantment cannot be extended to cover extensively large areas, hence its limitation to the dueling and training area," said Griphook, "But such a space can be used to do more than just duel and train the body."

"Your office!" said Harry suddenly, "It has a similar enchantment doesn't it?" The goblin only smiled, said good-bye and departed by the residence by Floo.

Though he acted in his clients best interests, Griphook knew that one day he would have to tell Harry the truth. However, he was not sure that he wanted or could do that to him. Not yet. Though a few of the signs were already manifesting, these were, nonetheless, just a few of the signs. He had withheld the details of the prophecy and believed he had done the correct thing. Though the High Council felt the boy should know his destiny, there was no reason to ruin the young man's life, a life where he may still get to live and enjoy a great deal more of it. He sat at his desk, and idly tapped the quill against his tooth, wondering how to frame this latest report.

In his office, Albus Dumbledore sucked on a lemon drop, and made a note that he was going to have to start ordering a lot more of them. His conversation with Ms. Granger had been productive indeed. Moreover, he felt no real guilt for what he had done. It was necessary. He told himself, to ensure that the boy stayed under control. Having her under his spell or rather, spells would help with that. However, there was little that he could do to mitigate the Goblin's influence. He had suspected for several long years that Goblins knew everything he knew, and perhaps even more but had simply refused to share.

The headmaster had nearly had a heart attack when Lupin and then the animagus godfather had joined the retinue. Two of his own Professors were also tutoring the boy in Charms and Transfiguration. Nevertheless, with only three weeks, Dumbledore was quite certain that Harry would bow out of the tournament during the first task – with a little outside help – and possibly a spectacular failure. Perhaps he could arrange one to help bring the boy back under his control. He sat at his desk and decided it was time to put several other pieces in to play.

That afternoon, Harry and Hermione went over a variety of spells, curses and jinxes and Hermione was suddenly planning to spend a lot of time with Harry in the dueling arena, partly to help, but also to take advantage of the extra time, some of which was going to involve extracurricular activities not on any syllabus. It became somewhat difficult for Harry to keep track of the time as he spent long hours in the dueling arena, with his various tutors and instructors. True enough, he worked hard with them, and even harder on his own. Hermione was worried that Harry would not only outstrip her in three subjects, but would also rank amongst the top students in the class. Harry Potter outscoring Hermione Granger on the OWLs… the remote possibility of such a thing sent a shiver down her spine. Hermione was however determined to do the right thing, and guide Harry as best she could. Not that it was an easy task. Bluntly put, whenever she mentioned the name "Dumbledore" or "headmaster" Harry would go slightly cold, and if she pushed it, however gently, he would go frigid and distant.

By the end of his first week, Harry had mastered a number of new spells, both offensive and defensive in nature and had found a suitable dueling style that let him play to his strengths. At Luna' gentle prodding, he began a cursory study in Ancient Runes and found that there was a certain, delight in the way he was forced to use his brain to crack the puzzles, whether it was about enchantment, translation or some other exercise. Griphook was delighted with his progress, as was Professor McGonagall who was surprised at the grasp that Harry had on both inanimate to animate and animate to inanimate transfiguration. His skill put him easily in the top three of the year.

Things had fallen in to a routine, and a good one for that first week and during the second, he followed Griphook's advice and arranged to meet his Charms Professor and retired Master Duelist. It was a day of surprise as Professor Flitwick bowed to Griphook in the Goblin fashion, "Griphook Thazdom of the Bha-zhak Kha-dorath, it has been a long time."

Harry stood with his mouth agape as the two bowed to one another and then hugged, "Professor, you know Griphook?" asked Harry somewhat confused.

"Yes Harry. I do," squeaked the diminutive charms professor, "You could say that we are distantly related by blood, I would be his grand nephew." That left the young wizard speechless as the two spent a minute catching up on old times and various family relations before moving to the subject of the day. "Now Harry, I know you've got a good grasp of Charms, but what I propose to teach you is not just charms, but to pass on certain knowledge that I hope will be of use to you in the coming tournament, and beyond that – what with the way trouble tends to follow you around."

Harry had the good grace to look slightly ashamed as the two shared a smile and grin, "Alright, alright. Can I please get to the learning part of the lesson? You can both tease me during a tea break or something." They set to work, Flitwick explaining one of the secrets that helped him earn his title as master duelist: Spell Chains.

"The ability to cast a variety of spells accurately at a stationary or moving target is important, but there will be occasions, when it is necessary to simply flood an area, or your opponents with spells. Often times, this ability is used to overwhelm shields or even fixed wards and other enchantments. It can also be used to test and gauge defenses. To chain spells, effectively, one must combine the end wand motion of one spell, with the start motion of another. The greater the similarity between the wand movements, the faster one can cast. The ability to cast spells silently will also be a great asset…."

"Silent casting?" interrupted Harry, "As in casting a spell without saying the incantation?"

"Yes." Professor Flitwick never minded interruptions related to the topic at hand, "Silent casting is exactly what it sounds like, and what you describe. It is unfortunately, a skill not taught at Hogwarts. Those who require it master it during basic Auror, Hit Wizard or Oblivator training. Beyond careers in Magical Law enforcement, there is limited need for the ability." Harry found that it was definitely something he wanted to learn.

Flitwick demonstrated a short but brutally crippling spell chain, in slow motion, exaggerating the wand motions against one of the training dummies. The chains could be as short as two or three spells or include up to a dozen different spells and are equally suited to both attack and defense. While that helped explain the speed of their casting, it did not explain why Goblins, and many of their blood kin could move so fast, "Long ago, before the current Age of Man, Goblin's were masters in the study and application of Time Magic," explained Griphook. "Though you may never cast spells or move at the same speed as a Goblin, that advantage can be negated through application of certain charms or even magical artifacts."

"The goblins had studied the nature of time but after several near catastrophes involving various pasts, presents and futures, they ceased their studies. However, their prolonged exposure to such magic and time travel to study the past and learn from the future had caused the magic itself to permeate the blood of the Goblins and that of their kin," concluded Professor Flitwick.

"So there are Goblin Seers?" asked Harry, thinking of divination.

"Yes," Griphook hesitated, "There are… but like their wizarding counterparts, they are few that can properly remember their visions or prophecies. Those that can see and recall their visions must then learn to interpret them. Many Goblins seers only understand their prophecies until the events themselves have begun or come to pass," he shrugged, "In many cases, their visions and what they foretell are dismissed as de ja vu and nothing more."

Flitwick picked up the explanation, "The Ministry slaves those with the All Seeing Eye to a pensieve," he pauses at the questioning expression on Harry's face and remembers that the wizard grew up as a muggle, "A pensieve is a magical artifact that can store memories, so that any prophecies they make are automatically recorded. But the process is damaging to the mind, and what damage is done is irreversible and many lose years of their lives." He was more than a little disgusted with the practice.

"So goblins have their own seers, and prophecies," mused Harry, unaware of just how uncomfortable that line of questioning was making Griphook.

"Yes. However, where our seers are many, we have few of what we call Farseer. These are the few whose recorded prophecies and come to pass. Such an event brings great honor to the clan concerned but rarely within the lifetime of the seer themselves," concluded Griphook, "Now then, back to the lesson at hand…"

That Friday morning, Albus Dumbledore watched the French half Veela with a twinkle in his eye as his "magically" chosen Queen moved to checkmate his chosen "King." The metaphor was apt, though one that would be lost upon the would-be chess master of Hogwarts.

Fleur sat at the Hufflepuff table this morning, much to the suspicion of its usual occupants and, while she ideally wanted Harry alone, this looked like the best opportunity she was going to get: Potter and the Longbottom boy. The others in that circle of friends had already left. Smoothing down her skirt, made somewhat shorter and snugger fitting than usual, she loosened a few buttons on her blouse and followed her, prey. "Mr. Potter?"

Harry could tell that something was happening, to him, as he swayed around almost drunkenly, standing before the Beauxbattons Champion. There was something, very, very wrong, but a part of his mind, really did not care. Even though another part of his mind, really did mind, "Miss …ah… Dela, Delacour?"

Bringing her Veela traits to the fore, she struck just the right pose to display all of her assets; her voice dripping with sexual promise as she purred, "Call me Fleur. I have been looking for the appropriate opportunity to apologize for my outburst after Halloween. It was a difficult night for all us." She batted her eyelids and Neville, dropped to his knees love struck and spell bound. "I do hope you can forgive me,' she lightly grasped his arm and let her hand trail down, her well manicured, deep red nails raking his skin ever so lightly.

It was the sight of Neville… it reminded Harry of the Imperius Curse. That thought broke the hold over him, even as her honey-coated voice promised him all kinds of things, things that he had not even touched on with Hermione yet.

Just thinking of her fueled his resistance and his struggle to break her hold intensified. Veela charm does not dominate a person physically in the manner of the Imperius curse. He realized it did something to the mind. His mind split, half of him wanting to give her everything she wanted, another part of him fighting desperately to resist. Fleur could not understand how Harry did not have his hands all over her. She gently pressed ahead, pushing herself as close to him as she could whispering seductively in to his ear, "I'm hoping that we can have a very, very good relationship, with many mutually beneficial encounters." It was the way she emphasized the last word. He almost snapped when he heard it.

Hermione had doubled back to the Great Hall for a book she had forgotten and was a shocked, mute witness to the entire scene: The French Champion cooing in Harry's ear had Neville on his knees as Sir Cadogan screaming a battle cry as he sought to break through the frame of the nearest portrait. Every her hidden insecurities rushed to the surface and in to overdrive. How could Harry possibly want anything to do with a, a muggle born bookworm when he could have something like that…that… and he was staring at her, the whole time!

It was all he could do to croak out one word, loud enough for her to hear, "Veela…" Fleur blinked in confusion and turned to find out whom he could possibly…. A ten and three quarter inch long, vine wood wand with a dragon heartstring core had its tip resting delicately against the base of Fleur's neck. Being part Veela was a blessing sometimes, but more often than not, it was a curse. "Depulso!"

The banishing charm sent the Veela skidding back on her heels. The suddenness of Hermione's intervention left Fleur without even a second's notice before she collided face first against the wall. With both hands behind his head, she pulled him close and kissed him, as she had never done before, "My girl is all witch, and that's all she'll ever need to be," said Harry with a satisfied smile.

"How was it possible for you to resist her Harry? I mean, she's a Veela… well one half or quarter Veela, and she had Neville practically gibbering on the floor!" asked Hermione.

Harry shook his head, "I'm not sure I could have held her off for much longer," he pulled Hermione close, "Thank Professor Moody. It was like fighting off the Imperius. Her… ability doesn't make you or force you to do anything. It makes you want to do whatever she wants…It's the most powerful befuddlement and compulsion charm." he explained.

The second week had otherwise passed without incident or mishap, and Harry's dueling abilities and skill with magic were improving in fits and starts as Professor Flitwick showed him how to combine spells chains with active and passing dodging tactics. Griphook had taught him two dozen odd hand to hand combat moves that included punching, kicking and grappling with an enemy in addition to focusing more on Harry's overall physical fitness and training regime.

Professor McGonagall had been an interesting opponent who had turned the environment to her advantage, transfiguring and animating anything and everything and commanding in to attack. Though Harry had obliterated many of her attackers, the charging furniture lead by a sofa, bookcase and armchair had finally imprisoned him in a corner of the dueling arena. Hermione had suggested Professor Moody by Harry had declined. For one, the Auror, however famous was too close or even an ally of Dumbledore. Beside, something just did not feel quite right about him.

Harry had stonewalled the headmaster and even Hermione had made little progress in helping to rebuild that bridge. When Dumbledore had actually offered access to his personal library however, he had relented, only to appease his girlfriend. The library was impressive, but he recognized many of the volumes contained within. He quickly concluded that the headmaster was holding back. The majority of these titles he could purchase in any slightly ill reputable bookshop in Diagon Alley or any "establishment" in Knockturn Alley.

In the end, he left the headmasters office with a few books under his arm, to keep up appearances. The headmaster collapsed in to his seat and contemplated the information he had retrieved. The boy's training was progressing almost too well, and Potter had access to his family vault and the blood protections were functional once again. The vault and its contents were now beyond his grasp.

He was running out of time and chess pieces. With the first task only a week away, the headmaster resolved to set in motion his last available pawns. He could only hope they would help him get Harry back under control.