Order of the Phoenix
A Simple Explanation
By Ruskbyte
Chapter Seven
~ A Simple Explanation ~
As he had once told Hedwig before his third year at Hogwarts, it had been a very weird night. That had been the night he'd blown up his Aunt Marge, but the night he was now thinking of had been even
weirder. It had been Harry's 15th birthday, and it had been, to put it mildly, very weird indeed.
Apparently, along with my multitude of other new talents, I have also mastered understatement.
As near as Harry could tell, and his resident house guests confirmed this, that night Harry had become something more than he had been the day before. Don't ask what he had become, because at that point Harry only had the vaguest of notions and even now, a month later, he was still not entirely clear on some things.
Most things, actually.
Now, half an hour after the conclusion of Harry's demonstration of the Practical Fighting Techniques class, he and his three companions were sitting inside Dumbledore's office, awaiting the arrival of the headmaster so that certain things could be explained. Harry had insisted, after Ron, Hermione and Ginny had confronted him at the class' end, that the venerable wizard would explain everything that he knew.
Naturally Harry had forgotten to mention that what little Dumbledore knew about Harry's situation could barely be considered the tip of the iceberg. In fact, as far as everyone other than Harry himself was considered, they were in the middle of the Sahara desert, thousands of miles away from any icebergs. For some reason, Harry had the feeling he was digging himself a hole with all that he was withholding from his friends and mentors. A very deep and very dark hole.
And so there they sat, waiting, in silence.
After all, how did you explain to your two best friends and the girl you now considered a close friend, confidant and perhaps even a prospective something more, that you had serious doubts about your own sanity?
I must be out of my mind., Harry gave a mental sigh.
*Don't worry, Harry. You are very much in your mind,* chirped an annoying voice. *After all, we're all in here with you.*
I rest my case.
Yep, Harry had serious doubts about his sanity. Regularly. Since that fateful night when he had found himself somewhere other than Privet Drive, he had been wondering if something inside his tormented mind had finally given way. That would be the simplest explanation. Especially since Harry was fairly certain he had never actually left the Dursley household. Which was just slightly confusing, since he knew he had been somewhere else.
Does that make sense?
*If you're waiting for the universe to make sense, Harry,* observed one of his more soft-spoken voices, *you'll be waiting for a very, very long time.*
Thanks, Sun, he sighed, I hadn't worked that out yet.
And to make matters worse, Harry had been somewhere else (damned if he knew where, exactly) for a considerably longer period of time than he had been away (from Privet Drive). There was no other way to explain how he had grown a good inch and a bit in the few minutes that his half-working nightstand alarm clock said had passed while he had been elsewhere.
By the end of the first week, much to the Dursleys' alarm and his own amusement, he had put on nearly a foot of height. Each day since his birthday Harry would leave the confines of his room and, for that matter, the house as well, and spend anywhere from, what he perceived as, a week to a month "elsewhere". Whenever he asked where he was precisely, which he'd done every time he was there, he'd always got the same unenlightening answer.
The Grand Hall of the Phoenix.
Whenever he got back to Privet Drive, always only five minutes to half an hour after "leaving", he would make his way into the bathroom and perform a thorough examination of his person. It had only been a few days before he had gone to Diagon Alley that he had stopped finding something slightly different about his body with each check up.
Not that he was complaining. Much. After all, the looks on Vernon, Petunia and Dudley's faces that first morning had been priceless. He could easily understand their reactions. After all, he had half-dragged himself up the stairs the previous evening, exhausted from the strenuous array of chores Aunt Petunia had set for him. Thus the three Dursleys could scarcely believe it when Harry strode into the kitchen the morning of his birthday, his hair for the first time in his life neat and tidy, at least on the sides, his stance straight and proud, his worn clothes not hanging quite as loosely on his frame, his glasses nowhere in sight and his wand in hand.
That had probably been the biggest shock. That Harry had had his wand with him and openly displayed.
Either that or the fact that he'd completely ignored them and immediately begun cooking himself a massive stack of blueberry pancakes, using said wand to make the meal cook itself while he sat down at the table and began paging through the parts of newspaper Vernon had already finished with.
Now if I had only known that spell from the start, Harry mused, thinking back to the very first thing he had done upon returning from his first visit to the Grand Hall of the Phoenix. It had been a quick and surprisingly simple spell that masked his magical signature, effectively making it possible for Harry, and Harry alone, to perform magic inside number four Privet Drive without risk of detection from the Ministry of Magic.
It had been the first spell, a truly ancient and long forgotten one, that his new companions had taught him. He had explained to them how he was unable to practice any of the wide selection of magic they knew and had passed onto him in what was possibly the single most painful experience of his life. Next to being inducted into the Order of the Phoenix, the Cruciatus Curse had seemed like a kiss on the cheek from a pretty girl.
Hell, it even made the pain I felt when Voldemort touched me seem like nothing.
*The benefits do outweigh that one little bug in the process, don't you agree?*
Don't think I'm complaining, but becoming a 'studly hunk of manflesh' as Parvati and Lavender put it this morning, was not what I had in mind, he noted wryly.
*We had to do it, you know that,* explained a voice that he knew as Alexander, *We can't very well have a shrimp fighting a Dark Lord now, can we?*
"I was not a shrimp!" Harry protested, realizing too late that he had spoken out loud. It was only after the other three occupants of Dumbledore's office jerked in their seats, Ron almost falling out of his, that Harry realized just how very unsettling and uncomfortable the silence surrounding them had become whilst he was lost in his thoughts.
"Um," was Ron's eloquent reply to Harry's blurted assertion.
"Er... of course you're not, Harry," confirmed Hermione, cautiously, just as she would speak to someone mentally instable.
Harry sighed. That's the problem. I am mentally instable!
*Why do you say that?*
Dammit Rom, I hear voices in my mind! What other explanation is there?
"Sorry if I startled you," he apologized to his friends, noting how nervous they suddenly were. Except Ginny, he noted, feeling a strange warmth in his stomach at this observation. She was looking nervous, no denying it, but it was different somehow. More, he thought, because of their surroundings than his unexpected outburst
*At this rate, I'm betting you'll be married before you leave school.*
Rem!
*Yes, Rem, stop teasing the poor lad.*
*Come on, Rom. If he's finding this embarrassing, just imagine the wedding night!*
*Now I remember why they named the city, the empire even, after me and not you.*
*Oooh, low blow, brother mine.*
Harry sighed and propped his chin in his hands, staring tiredly at the low burning fire that was crackling in the fireplace. "I was just... having an argument," he tried to explain, realizing as he said the words just how strange and unbalanced that sounded.
"An argument with who, Harry?" asked Ron.
"Whom," corrected Hermione, distractedly, her eyes set firmly upon Harry.
Harry smiled tiredly and shrugged, "Myself." He saw the look his two friends exchanged and sighed a second time. They were starting to think he was off his rocker, "Don't worry about it," he tried to allay their concerns, "I'm not schizophrenic and I'm not hearing voices no one else can hear either. I'm just... just having an argument."
*Last time I checked, Harry, no one else CAN hear us.*
You can all hear each other, can't you? Which means I'm hearing voices that people other than myself can hear.
*You've been talking to Sun too much. He's corrupting you with all that Eastern philosophy and Asian mysticism double talk.*
Maybe, but he and I are amateurs next to Dumbledore.
He then made the mistake of looking at Ginny. Her bottomless chocolate brown eyes locked with his and suddenly he felt a terrible combination of warmth, mixed with shame at the fact that he was hiding the truth. Especially when he was hiding it from her. By the time he'd managed to tear his gaze away from her, his mouth was dry, his stomach fluttering and his voices elated.
*Our Harry,* sniffed Loki, *all grown up and chasing after the tavern wenches.*
Ginny is not... Harry resisted the temptation to throw his arms up in defeat, but could not prevent doing the mental equivalent. If he had to have voices in his head why couldn't they have been more... reasonable and less like the Weasley twins?
A sudden weight settled on his shoulder and Harry looked up at Professor Dumbledore's magnificent red plumed phoenix. Fawkes settled down comfortably and whistled a soft greeting, causing Harry to recall his fifteenth birthday and his impromptu visit to Hogwarts and Dumbledore.
***
- One Month Ago -
Mid morning, 31st July
Harry, feeling strangely invigorated from his journey to Hogwarts, despite the great distance traversed, not to mention the fact that it should have been impossible for a wizard as young as Harry to make such a journey, looked around Dumbledore's circular office. No matter how often he was here, Harry always found himself fascinated by the many odds and ends littered about the place. The only difference between now and prior visits was that Harry suddenly knew what most of Dumbledore's artefacts, trinkets and gizmos actually were.
*A benefit and common side effect of being part of the Phoenix Order, young Harry.*
Thanks, Iphicles, he thought snidely, I'd forgotten that already.
*Harry...*
Come on, Heracles, he accused, your brother insists on treating me like a doddering old fool who would forget my head if it weren't firmly attached to my shoulders!
*Yes, he gets that from our father.*
Good thing he's not in the Order. I'd be forced to kill him.
*We're already dead, Harry.*
Like that's going to stop me, Harry snorted and continued his examination of the headmaster's office, stopping as he spotted Fawkes perched on his stand in one corner. The ancient and tattered Sorting Hat was sitting on the table beside the phoenix, Godric Gryffindor's gleaming silver sword resting on a red velvet cushion alongside it.
"Hullo, Fawkes," he said, moving towards the bird. "You're looking well."
Fawkes bowed his head and trilled softy, ~Many thanks, Lord of the Phoenix Order. You seem well yourself, certainly better than the last time we met.~
Harry blinked.
He blinked again.
First snakes and now phoenixes. Great. You people never mentioned this, he thought.
*Um... oops?*
Oops?
*Don't look at me, that was supposed to be Quetzalcoatl's job!*
*Not mine! Zuma was supposed to do it!*
"Thank you, Fawkes," he replied, feeling a bit off-balance at this new development. However he wasn't so off-balance that Harry couldn't mount a dig at his new companions. "Although I think I would be a bit better off if I didn't have a stand-up comedy routine going on in my head."
*Oi!*
Fawkes chirped his amusement and hopped lightly onto Harry's shoulder, ~Professor Dumbledore is down in the Great Hall, having a late brunch,~ the phoenix whistled softly.
"I can wait, I guess."
With Fawkes perched on his shoulder, Harry crossed the large office and settled himself down in the unbelievably comfortable chair behind Dumbledore's enormous, claw-footed desk. Heck, the desk was nearly larger than Harry's bedroom back in Privet Drive. Nearly.
"I hope the headmaster is not having an overly long meal," he sighed, sinking contently into the overstuffed seat. Dumbledore must have put a Comfortability Charm or something similar on it; no ordinary chair felt that good.
*Mmmmmm, foooood...*
Harry sighed. "I just ate a stack of pancakes taller than a house elf. How could you possibly be hungry? Besides, as Heracles just reminded me, you're dead!"
*'S easy.*
Having a full chamber choir in his head was going to take some getting used to.
***
Ginny watched as Harry became lost to the world once again, absently reaching up to stroke his fingers over Fawkes' scarlet feather coat. The phoenix trilled softly and Ginny could swear that Harry was able to understand what the bird singing. He was smiling slightly, just as he did when he and his friends exchanged a private joke, known only to them. His eyes had that faraway look she had seen two nights before, on a grassy knoll in the back corner of the Weasley garden.
Where do you go, Harry? she wondered, and why can't I go with you?
When they had confronted Harry after his demonstration of Practical Fighting Techniques, Ginny had met staunch opposition against her inclusion from her brother. After all, Ron was Harry's best friend and did not think his baby sister had any business prying into the affairs of the infamous Terrible Trio. The three friends were inseparable, and despite Harry's inclusion of her into recent conversations and the many secrets he had shared with her that night, Ginny doubted that she would ever truly be a part of their group.
Only when Harry had very forcibly proclaimed that Ginny was to be included in the forthcoming explanation, which he said Dumbledore would provide, had Ron consented to allow her to join the trio as they made their way to the headmaster's office. As far as she knew, and from what she overheard Ron and Hermione whispering about along the way, this was the first time any of them, besides Harry, had been to Dumbledore's inner sanctum.
It was... different from what Ginny had expected.
"Hullo all," greeted Dumbledore as the door swung open behind them. "I hope I have not kept you waiting long? The staff had a few questions they wanted me to answer."
"I'm afraid we have a few more for you to answer, sir," said Harry, rising from his seat as the headmaster entered the office. "Well, my friends do that is. I thought it would be best if you explained things to them."
Dumbledore smiled at Harry as he moved to his chair behind his desk. "Of course, Harry. I would be happy to oblige. Although, after your admirable presentation this evening, I do not think you would have any trouble doing so yourself."
Ginny smiled as Harry blushed and ducked his head. He hated having attention. Now that she was thinking about it, Ginny realized just how much determination it must have taken Harry to step onto the stage, before the entire school nearly, and start talking.
"Ah, I see young Ms Weasley has joined your group," Dumbledore observed, startling Ginny out of her revere.
"She has?" asked Ron and Hermione, both turning to look at her.
I have?
Ginny instead turned to look at Harry, who was watching her intently, and blushed slightly as she asked tentatively, "I have?"
She watched through her lashes as Harry looked at Dumbledore, then across at Ron and Hermione and then finally back at Ginny before nodding his agreement, his consent. Whether the other two liked it or not, she was now a part of the trio, or more accurately now, the quartet. When Harry spoke, his two simple words made her feel as if her heart were about to explode.
"She has."
***
Harry watched and listened with one ear as Dumbledore gave his two friends and Ginny the short version of their meeting a month ago and their more recent meeting the day before Harry had gone to the Burrow. It was a reasonably accurate and fairly detailed recounting of those events, one of the reasons Harry had asked the headmaster to be the one to explain everything.
What little he knew, at least.
After all, as far as Dumbledore knew, and explained to the others, Harry had experienced the equivalent of a "growth spurt" in his magical powers. At least that was what Harry had told him when he had come up from the Great Hall only to find Harry lounging casually behind his desk, apparently having Apparated from Little Whinging to Hogsmeade and then stealthily trekking from the village to the school. That is how Harry had explained his unexpected presence at Hogwarts and Dumbledore had no reason to doubt his story. Why should he?
Besides, as Hermione was constantly telling them; it was supposedly impossible to Apparate or Disapparate on Hogwarts grounds.
That's what she had read in Hogwarts: A History, which meant it had to be true.
Harry did not want to disillusion her. Or give Voldemort any ideas.
As for the exact extent of his powers, Harry had hidden a great deal of that from Dumbledore as well, making certain the headmaster saw only a fraction of what he was capable of. When asked what his limits were, Harry had pretty much pulled an answer out of thin air and used that.
He didn't think he had any limits. At least not that he was aware of.
*Oh, you have limits, Harry,* a voice said. *It's just a question of if you will ever encounter a situation where you will deplete your powers faster than you can replenish them.*
Did that ever happen to you or any of the others?
*Never.*
Harry turned his attention back to the present and listened as Dumbledore wrapped up his tale of how Harry had written to him a week before term began.
"Harry's proposal was unexpected," Dumbledore was telling Harry’s friends, "but considering both the state of affairs regarding Voldemort's return and Harry's own exceptional abilities in the field of magical combat, I found myself unable to refuse the idea."
"But, where did you learn all those spells?" asked Hermione, turning to Harry. "I mean, most of them I recognized from class and some of our books for this year and stuff I've checked out of the library over the years, but some of them... That duplicate spell..."
Harry turned from where he was standing; looking out the window and over the still waters of the Hogwarts lake. "Since Voldemort returned..." He paused as Ron twitched anxiously, then continued. "Since he came back, I've been making preparations, taking precautions. Quietly."
Leaving the window, Harry made his way to where they were gathered around the fireplace and sat down beside them. "I took a good number of books home from the library at the end of last year. After all our studying for the Third Task, I had a good idea which ones would contain something that I could use in the future. To top it off, you sent me a book on curses and hexes, Ron sent me a book on chess strategies and Hagrid sent me a great bleeding sword. I didn't spend my time at the Dursleys' sitting around and twiddling my thumbs."
"Also," he sank back into his chair, "you three are not the only people I was corresponding with. I must have owled nearly every Auror in Britain, asking for information about what they did and how they did it. I wrote to historians, curse-breakers, potion brewers, healers, everyone in any profession where I thought I could learn something I might need."
This was a calculated lie on Harry's part, he had exchanged letters over the holidays with only Ron, Hermione and Ginny. But a good portion of what he now knew could not be found in books or scrolls or tomes or anything. In fact, some of it was considered "lost" over the passage of time. He had to tell them something and saying that the voices in his head told him would not go down all that well.
"Along with my 'growth spurt' as the professor put it…" He nodded at his mentor. "I've developed pretty good memory and information retention. It's almost photographic. Everything I learn stays learnt, even after only one looking over."
"That's how you knew that potion in Sna- Professor Snape's class this morning!" exclaimed Ron.
Harry nodded. "Despite what our resident Death Eater may say, I'm pretty good at potions. The only reason my marks are as low as they are is because he marks me down all the time."
Dumbledore gave Harry a slightly chiding look, silently berating him for speaking ill of one of his teachers. With a glance at Ginny, he had obviously noted her lack of reaction at the mention of Snape's "night job"; he quickly realized that she had become more integrated into Harry's circle of friends than he originally thought.
"Which I believe sums it up," Dumbledore concluded. "After agreeing with Harry that teaching our students to fight on a more practical level than is taught in Defence Against the Dark Arts, we had but to arrange a time and a place to supply your instruction. The rest you know."
Hardly. They, and you, know only what you need to know, thought Harry, no more.
"So…" Ron looked at Harry. "What other surprises have you been keeping from the rest of us?"
Harry smiled mischievously, "If I told you, they wouldn't be surprises any more, would they?"
*You're not going to tell them? Why not?*
Because there's no need for them to know everything, Alex, explained Harry.
Not unless something drastic happens...
TBC...