"You are not here to enjoy the view," Alexander drawled from behind Harry, snapping him back to the present.
With a certain reluctance, Harry tore his eyes from the breathtaking scenery in order to look at his mentor-to-be.
"Are you ready, then?"
"I think so," Harry replied, somewhat nervously. "Where are we going exactly?"
Alexander didn't speak. With a smirk, he pulled his wand from his sleeve and before Harry could process the action, the ground beneath his feet disappeared into sudden darkness.
With a yell of surprise, he found himself falling rapidly towards the unknown. Try as he might, he couldn't quite orient himself and every attempt at finding balance mid-air caused him to spin around even faster. Confusion overtook his mind, as he spun through the darkness, before an explosion of light burst out before him. Blue light spun around him in every direction as he fell, blinding him with its vibrancy. As he began to adjust to the light, he began to take notice of his surroundings; first, he was not falling as quickly as he had thought. In fact, he was slowly gliding downwards. Second, his body was trying to right itself as he fell, and if he tried to force it, that would cause him to spin further, adding to the lingering disorientation. Third, his Merlin-forsaken mentor was gliding down slightly above him, a smirk on his face, as his pale blue eyes shined in amusement.
"Couldn't you have warned me before you did that?" Harry remarked with obvious irritation.
"I could have, but then I would have missed you flailing about like a fish."
Harry scoffed, before he turned his gaze down. His breath hitched.
"What… What is this?"
Beneath the duo stretched a near-endless cavern. At the centre of the cavern lay a large Doric pillar, formed from white marble and covered in doors. From the doors stretched floating platforms, also made of marble, and edged with gold. They seemed to lead to the walls of the cavern, where more doors awaited, leading elsewhere into the mountain. Harry could make no sense of the order of the doors, and platforms, as they seemed to be placed upon both wall and pillar haphazardly. Despite the apparent lack of light sources, the cavern in its entirety - apart from the bottom - was well lit. As he tried to discern more details, Harry noticed people, many people, walking to and from the pillar, disappearing behind doors and even mid-stride.
"This, my dear student, is the Greek Ministry of Magic," Alexander answered lightly. He aimed his wand at the raven-haired boy, moving him towards the nearest platform before landing right beside him.
Harry was still trying to wrap his head around the intricacies of the place. He looked around the platform they had landed on. It was, by far, the largest of the platforms. Three wizards, wearing black, tight fitting robes, stood at the edge of the platform next to a large golden door. The door, which was etched in strange runes, led directly into the pillar. Turning his head towards the column itself, Harry saw a booth jutting out from it with a wizard stationed in it who looked bored out of his mind. Above him, a silver plaque read 'Υποδοχή Ελληνικού Υπουργείου Μαγείας' and as Harry looked at it, the letters seemed to reorganise themselves in his head until they read 'Reception of the Greek Ministry of Magic.' Before he had left Hogwarts for the summer, Snape had thankfully given him a Babel Potion, that allowed him to understand Greek, although he was still learning some of the intricacies of the language.
Alexander did not wait for him and moved towards the bored booth attendant on his own.
"Alexander Charistanes, I have an appointment with the Department of Ancient Magic. The chtikiaris, back there, is with me." Alexander drawled, pointing towards Harry with his thumb. The receptionist appeared nonplussed, but tossed them both a medallion nonetheless.
"So cheerful," Alexander mumbled, moving back towards his student and grabbing him by his arm. "Department of Ancient Magic."
Suddenly, Harry felt a pull from his navel, a tell-tale sign of Portkey transportation. Before he could even register, he found himself landing softly on a marble platform. His eyes widened as he took in his surroundings, yet again.
From the platform on which he stood, came a soft radiant light, from the golden decorations that bordered it, a product, Harry had no doubt, of magic. The light lit up a massive door chiselled into the rock face. It held similar runes to ones he had seen at the main entrance, and was surrounded by four marble walls that had been placed to decorate the small alcove in which the imposing door laid. Above the door, in large Greek letters, was a sign declaring it as the entrance to the Department of Ancient Magic.
Behind him, Harry could feel the large column still towering over him, as he stood on the floating platform in front of the entrance to the Department of Ancient Magic. He could tell they were much lower in the cavern than they had been, towards the middle, or perhaps even the bottom, if he had to guess. Near his own platform lay others, each with their own doors carved into the rock face. From where he was, Harry could just make out the signs that were carved above them.
He was fascinated by the differences between the Ministries of Britain and Greece. Some departments were the same, staples like the DMLE and Department of International Cooperation, but there were some that he never heard of before, like the Department of Prophetic Studies or his apparent destination, the Department of Ancient Magic. As he ruminated, and took in his surroundings, his thoughts were interrupted by his companion.
"If you're quite done losing your shit in our Ministry," Alexander drawled and pulled him - rather harshly if in Harry's humble opinion - by his wrist to the door in front of them.
"What have we come for?" Harry asked as he fell into line, if only to avoid a repeat of the manhandling he had just been subjected to.
"Multiple reasons," his mentor started as they crossed the door. The interior of the department was rather unassuming, a simple corridor with doors spread along either side of it. "Our first order of business will be to fetch you a tome on Parselmagic."
"A tome on what?"
"You heard me kid," Alexander said as he abruptly turned to face a door labelled 'Magical Languages'.
He promptly entered the room, which turned out to be a small-scale library with four desks in the middle that were placed facing one another. At one of the four sat a rather plain looking man, with short, brown hair, light brown eyes that sparkled with intelligence, who seemed to be expecting them.
"Dionyses, I hope you received my message?"
"I did," the seated man said with a smile. "I certainly didn't expect you to bring the Hope of Britain with you, however. Weren't you supposed to go to Britain to tutor him?"
"Hope of Britain?" Harry deadpanned with a raised eyebrow. Neither man paid attention to him.
"I have business to take care of. I couldn't leave the country," Alexander said plainly as he turned to look at Harry. "A right tragedy, I assure you. I really have a soft spot for Britain's shitty, wet, grey and cold environment."
Harry snorted.
"Either way, I have your tome right here," Dionyses said as he pulled out a massive green tome. Upon closer inspection, Harry noticed that the cover was made of snake skin. What kind of snake, he did not know. "Say, ever dabbled in Parselmagic, Potter?"
"No," the boy answered plainly before his curiosity overtook him, "why does your Ministry have tomes on Parselmagic?"
"Because it's a magical language?" the Ministry worker deadpanned.
"You have to understand, Potter, that you're not in Britain. We didn't outlaw one of the most ancient magical languages in history because your pathetic excuse of a Dark Lord happens to speak it. We would rather cut off our dicks and feed them to the fucking wolves before we besmirched the noble tongue of Asclepius," Alexander said harshly, with such vitriol that Harry was caught off guard.
"I didn't mean to insult you," he said quickly as he took a step back.
As the student and teacher stared tensely at each other, Dionyses flicked his wand towards the book, shrinking it and levitating it towards Harry, breaking the pair's contest. As Harry caught it with a deft hand, Dionyses looked at him, mischief dancing in his eyes, as he hissed at the boy.,
"Treat it with care. I am rather attached to it."
Harry's eyes widened and he gingerly put the shrunken tome in his pocket. "I will," he answered instinctively.
"If you're quite done," Alexander deadpanned before grabbing Harry's wrist once more, pulling him back towards the door. The boy's eyelid twitched with irritation. "Thank you, Dionyses."
"Not a problem, Ares. It's not like I could refuse anyway," the office worker said lightly, waving them off. With a dip of his head, Alexander bid the office worker farewell and pulled Harry back into the corridor, moving them immediately towards another door.
"Why did he call you Ares?" Harry asked curiously, as Alexander continued to pull him down the corridor.
"Not the time," the Greek man mumbled as he abruptly pulled him through a door labelled 'Wandcraft and Wandlore'.
This room was very different compared to the one they had just left. Instead of a library, this one was a proper office, albeit quite a small one. The walls of the room were covered in shelves. Every single one of them filled to the brim with small, rectangular boxes - that Harry recognised from his visit to Ollivanders before his first year as wand boxes - stacked haphazardly on top of one another. In the middle of the office was a small, marble desk with a door behind it.
Harry briefly wondered who tended this office before the door behind the desk slammed open and a short, redheaded woman barreled through.
"Oh you're the Potter boy!" she squealed and Harry tried to keep a neutral expression, but she continued and it became quickly apparent that he had failed, "oh, don't be so scared of me, I promise I won't bite."
From the corner of his vision he saw Alex watching him with an amused smirk. His attention was brought back to the woman who roughly grabbed his hand and shook it. "I am Maria Fotiadou, and you are so very interesting," she said, still shaking his hand as she moved her face closer to his. Her eyes were pitch black, yet he felt as if they were examining his very soul. She unnerved him. "So much power! Do you even know how much of it you possess? You could level a city! Well, not yet, not without a proper partner, but you know what I mean! Oh how wonderful, to work with a Champion of Fate!"
Harry's eyes turned towards Alex. 'A Champion of what?' he mouthed, and the older wizard's smirk widened.
"Come with me!" The woman - Maria - said as she roughly pulled him inside the room behind the desk. Shocked by her absurd strength, he didn't even notice the door slamming shut behind him. Before he could even process the fact that he was being pulled along, he found himself getting sat down on a chair rather violently. Maria had already left his side, quickly gathering wooden blocks from her shelves and levitating them at breakneck speeds to a wide, marble workbench that stood in front of Harry.
With a sigh, he ceased his attempts at trying to understand the woman. Without many other options, Harry looked at the array of wooden blocks that Maria had placed on the workbench, as she moved to stand behind it. She stood with her hands propped up on the marble surface as her glittering black eyes stared into Harry's own emerald ones.
"Now, Mister Potter, I want you to slowly move your hand above the blocks of wood arranged in front of you," she said with a serious tone, her previous exuberance nowhere to be seen. "As you move your hand, some of the woods will call to you, some woods will not. Your magic will know which wand wood will be the one most suited to yourself. Trust in it, and it will guide you."
Harry slowly nodded and turned his eyes to the blocks of wood. They were all of different shades and colours, but he could not tell any of them apart. With a slow exhale, he moved his hand above them, taking his time above each block in order to feel the supposed calling.
The first block felt dead. The second did too. As did the third, and so the process continued, making Harry feel quite put out as more and more blocks had no reaction to him.
As his hope slowly died, he reached the second to last block. He was ready to give up, when he felt it. A warm, fuzzy feeling starting from his palm and moving towards his body. He opened his eyes, only to see Maria snatch the levitating block. The connection was severed and Harry frowned.
"I haven't seen such a reaction in quite a while," the wandmaker mumbled, paying no attention to Harry as she returned the blocks to their respective shelves with erratic slashes of her wand. At the same time, other items started replacing the blocks.
Harry tried to look around at where they were coming from but his head was turned roughly to look at the desk with another flick of Maria's wand. This time, an assortment of vials, boxes and, in some cases, raw materials were spread across the desk. His eyes were immediately drawn to a vial that contained some sort of pitch-black liquid that seemed to move on its own. Harry felt repulsed by it.
"What's that?" he said, pointing carefully to the vial.
"Why? Are you drawn to it?" Maria asked with a gleam in her eye.
Harry shook his head. "Just repulsed. And it feels familiar."
"That black ooze is Essence of Despair. It's a form of residue left behind places with high concentrations of Dementors and other creatures of the same nature. I suspect your famed prison is full of that stuff. They make for extremely powerful and volatile wands, very temperamental," the woman explained with a detached monotone voice. Slowly, she took it away. "Pity. It's been a while since I've made a wand with it."
Harry shook his head at the eccentricity of the wandmaker and started the same process as before, moving his hand above the materials. This time, he didn't wait too long to feel a reaction. His hand was immediately drawn towards something that felt like hair to his fingertips. He opened his eyes, but like before, the material was snatched from his hand before he could see what it was.
"Perfect! A magnificent and eccentric combination, much like you!" The wandmaker said cheerfully as Harry's lips flattened.
'That's actually worse than the pot calling the kettle black.'
Suddenly, Maria moved her wand in a mighty arc and the wand cores started flying back towards their shelves. At the same time, measuring tapes snaked out from her sleeves towards Harry. Before he could even register what was happening, the tapes were retracted and he found a wand pointed at his chest.
"It's been nice meeting you, Mister Potter! Come back in around three hours!"
"Wha-"
With a cheeky wave from the wandmaker, Harry found himself flying back through both doors of Maria's office, only to be grabbed by Alexander, who was waiting back in the corridor.
"Had fun with grandma?" He asked with a smug grin.
"With who? Isn't she like twenty something?" Harry asked, completely flabbergasted. In his defence, Maria barely looked thirty.
"Oh, don't you dare tell her that. She is eighty nine and very conscious about the fact that she looks so young. Something about people not respecting her," Alex said with a shrug as he pulled Harry further down the hall.
"How is she eighty-nine looking like that?"
"I don't know."
"Then who knows?"
"No one knows," Alexander said with yet another shrug of his shoulders.
The duo kept walking in silence as Harry was trying to wrap his head around his day so far, which felt quite unreal, as if he had been thrust into some weird dream.
At some point, they reached the end of the corridor and Harry was quite caught off guard when he found himself back in the cavern.
"How did we end up here?" He asked as he turned his head back towards the door of the Department of Ancient Magics.
"Magic," the older wizard drawled, causing Harry to roll his eyes. They started walking down the pathway leading back towards the pillar and Harry took care to observe his surroundings further.
What immediately came to his notice was the amount of creatures walking around. Centaurs, cyclopes, elves, and even some sort of human-goat hybrid. Harry recalled that these were called satyrs. Apparently, Alex noticed him watching.
"We cannot simply ignore the influence of other creatures across the ages. Centaurs and satyrs in particular have many appearances and feature prominently in our mythos. We coexist. We help each other and learn from each other. We better ourselves. We better our community as a unit."
Harry hummed thoughtfully. He was inclined to agree, the Greeks did have a rich history and it was often interconnected with creatures. And they were all the better for it.
They reached the pillar and walked through an open archway. Inside, nothing but the floor was visible, the rest of the interior was completely dark.
"Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Alexander said in a bored monotone and Harry felt something shift. Almost on cue, the elder wizard spun around and exited through the archway.
Harry did a double take as he saw that they were on a whole different bridge, one that led to the platform of the DRCMC.
"How does that work?" he asked in wonder, as he never saw a method of transport quite like it.
"Now you're asking the correct questions," Alex said with a small smile. "The Tower closely resembles the Floo Network, only localised and without the use of fire. You cannot enter the Tower using any sort of magical method, and it can only be used to teleport around the many floors of this place - well, apart from its occasional use as office space... The exact mechanism is unknown. It is said that Hermes the Nimble created it, but that would be almost three millennia ago."
The duo reached the entrance to the DRCMC and they went inside. Once again, it was a single corridor with doors lining the sides. Harry's eyes bulged at the word millenia.
"How old is this place?"
"Who knows? The earliest reference of Magical Olympus dates around 600 BC. And before you ask, yes, I did speak of Hermes. The God Hermes," Alex said with a smirk. "Though calling them gods is false. The Dodecatheon did exist, only, they were mages. The lot of them. Extremely powerful, no doubt, but they were no gods. The Ámagoi went overboard with the deification of the Mages of Olympus - the most glaring embellishment being the whole existence of the Gigantes, who were just giants - but you can't blame them. Back then, wizards and witches were often in the spotlight and were praised and feared. They were hailed as gods amongst men. Some would say that it was apt, as magic is the force above reality, but those people are also in line with Grindelwald's ideals, so I wouldn't say that their views are the most correct of the bunch." With that final word, they reached a door with a plaque reading Hydra Observation and Control. "I rambled, didn't I?"
Harry, who was draining everything Alexander said with fascination, shook his head. "Not at all. It sounds extremely interesting, but do other things from Greek mythology exist too?"
Alexander's eyes shone with amusement. "Yep. If not all of it, at least ninety percent of our mythology is very much real."
"Wicked," Harry said with a grin as they entered the office. This time, it was just a normal office with three desks, of which only one was occupied by a sour looking man in his middle ages.
"Chin up, Dimitri. You have a guest."
"I can see that," the man - Dimitri - drawled. "That doesn't answer why you're here."
"A permit for entrance to the hydra colony of Lake Lerna," Alex said simply as he took the seat in front of the middle aged wizard.
"Why?"
"The boy is a parselmouth."
"So?"
"So I want a permit."
"Why?"
Alexander's eye twitched. "Call it a once in a lifetime experience."
"Don't see a reason to give you one," the man answered plainly.
"He can actually converse with the colony and is willing to visit it."
Harry's eyebrow rose. He was never asked about it.
"Doesn't matter. Poor sod will probably die."
"He has survived being hit with the Killing Curse."
"Doesn't mean he'll survive being roasted to ash."
"He has killed a basilisk."
"Then why should he visit a Hydra Colony when he has killed the king of serpents?"
Harry was completely baffled, but didn't show it as he silently watched the haggling unfold. He had never been one for flaunting his fame and his achievements, but this was the first time someone had dismissed his feats, especially his slaying of the basilisk. Not many people knew about it, but the feat being dismissed so casually stung.
"Because I said so." Alexander said with an air of finality. His tone sounded extremely close to yelling. Dimitris appeared completely nonplussed.
"Ten thousand drahma."
"No."
"Then you get no permit."
"I am your fucking superior." Alex hissed, as he clenched his fists.
"Don't care, Ares. If you actually cared about your superiority you would be working inside the Ministry with the rest of the Dodecatheon," Dimitris said with a dismissing wave of his hand.
"If they actually respected the fact that I don't want to be chained down to Olympus, then we wouldn't have this ordeal."
"You were the one who chose to become the strongest battlemage in the country. In fact, you are such an overachiever that you managed to rank second in the entire world. And as you know, the title of God of War is meritocratic, gained by becoming the strongest battlemage in all of Greece. It is not a 'choice', no matter how much you wish it was. The moment you were recognised, you were also bestowed with the crown. It has been twenty five years, at some point, you just have to accept it and not begrudgingly drag your arse across Olympus to attend meetings and deal with urgent matters."
The moment Dimitri ended his tirade, a deafening silence descended upon them. Alexander was still enough to pass for a sculpture. After a few tension-filled seconds, however, the battlemage spoke.
"Your input is appreciated. You will give me a permit for entrance to the hydra colony of Lake Lerna, effective until August 31st under the name of Harry James Potter. That is an official order given by a God of the Dodecatheon and you will comply, immediately, at the cost of your other orders of business. I expect it to be done within the minute."
The coldness and quiet aggression in Alexander's voice gave Harry goosebumps. Even Dimitri, who barely a minute ago was giving Alexander a mighty dressing down, turned his eyes downward.
"As you wish," the worker spoke with a quiet voice. Not even half a minute later, Harry had the official permit in his hands.
Alexander stood and exited the office without a second glance. Harry took a breath and followed suit.
As they stood in the corridor, the older wizard's eyes turned towards Harry. "We won't speak about this. At least not now. We will have to, eventually, as I believe a good mentor-student relationship implies complete honesty and transparency. But not now."
Harry agreed with a solemn nod.
"Come along. We have finished everything for now, let's go to the cafeteria for a snack until you get your wand."
X
Some minutes later, the pair silently ate something called gyros in the cafeteria of the Greek Ministry of Magic. It was love at first bite for Harry and he was already halfway through the third pita, much to his stomach's protests.
"Some would think that you've never been fed before," Alex said lightly as he finished his second - and final - pita. "It's not like you need more weight."
Harry turned his eyes towards the older wizard as he chewed on his bite. The man, of course, didn't know about his past. Among all the evils inflicted upon him at the hands of the Dursleys, malnutrition and starvation were the most prominent. From what McGonagall had once told him back in third year, he would be a tiny, skinny little runt - he still was a runt, compared to the absolute wall of muscle Alexander seemed to possess - if it weren't for Pomfrey using elves to feed him a whole regiment of nutritional and growth-correction potions. She started in first year when she deemed him malnourished after a full-exam following his induction to the Quidditch Team without even telling him. For the first two years, he was drinking nutritional potions in his pumpkin juice, without being none the wiser.
Eventually he shook off those thoughts.
"I just enjoy it a lot," he finally said, choosing to evade the subject altogether.
"Just make sure to not overindulge," the older wizard said with a shrug.
Harry merely smiled as he finished his pita after quite a struggle to shove it down his throat. It was obvious that he would not eat a fourth, no matter how much he wanted another one.
"Now that you're finished, I think we should discuss some things about your training," Alexander started in a serious tone. "We will train in combat, plain and simple. I will shape you to be the fiercest, strongest fighter you can be in this limited timeframe we are given. We will not follow foolish, law abiding methods of fighting. Your country is on the verge of another Blood War, and you need to act that way. You will learn to curse, to incapacitate, to maim and to kill. You will learn the harsh truths of war and how to fight alongside them and against them. For that is what Battle Magic is. As the term says, it is magic used in battles. It is combat magic, more so than your Defence Against The Dark Arts. More so than even the Dark Arts themselves."
Harry paid rapt attention to his new mentor, failing to notice that every single person had left the cafeteria, as if compelled to do so.
"Battle Magic is to attack, it is to defend, it is to destroy. It is the totality of magic, at its most primal form. Magic is the ability to bend reality to your whims with very little restriction, and the most basic instinct of Ámagoi and Wizards alike is to survive and to survive, you need to fight."
Alexander abruptly stood up and with a wave of his wand all the tables and chairs were pushed to the walls. "A Battle Mage is an instrument of war, and instruments of war do not play cautiously!"
With a violent slash of his wand, a flaming crescent was launched towards Harry, passing above his head. The raven-haired wizard snapped his head behind him to watch as the flames collided against the wall. He couldn't see it, but Alexander gave a sharp twist to his wand, causing the flames to burst outwards, enveloping the entire wall of the cafeteria. Harry heard some whispered chant and the flames started moving ever more violently and changing colour to white. As the speed of the fires reached their crescendo, the entire wall was blasted outwards…
Actually, no, it wasn't a wall. Harry stood up, dazed, and walked towards the hole made by Alexander, only to realise that what he saw was correct.
His mentor had blown a hole out of the side of Mount Olympus. It was already slowly being repaired, probably by the wards on the mountain and the ambient magic, but it was still an impressive feat. Harry felt rather than heard when Alexander stepped beside him.
"Large scale combat," the man said softly. "That is what a Battle Mage excels at. You will, of course, be a force unlike any other in one-on-one, but a Battle Mage thrives in war."
"I'm ready," Harry said quietly, yet with incredible resolution. He turned his head to the side and locked his eyes with Alexander's.
"I know you are, little Potter, I know what you've been through. You've witnessed shit no child your age should, and yet here you are. Alive, well and thriving. It also doesn't hurt that you are a Potter." At Harry's questioning look, he elaborated. "The Potters were historically prodigies with elemental magic, a branch of magic incredibly suited to Battle Mages. Plus, I have had the pleasure of working with your grandfather before," the older wizard said solemnly.
"I have to ask though," Harry said hesitantly. "Isn't this supposed to be warded, or something? I mean…you can't break Hogwarts."
"It is," Alexander said with a nod. "From the outside that is. Mount Olympus is nigh unbreachable, but it is also very hard to get out of. So, you can break yourself out with sufficient power, or if you simply get a big enough group to blow a hole in it." Harry made to speak, but the older wizard cut him off, as if reading his mind. "Even if people break the inside, the wards still exist, and they will only allow exit from the sides. So no, you cannot enter through a hole. It is an extremely complex ward scheme in general, and you shouldn't even think about it unless you plan to become a Master Wardsmith."
"Which I don't," Harry conceded.
Slowly, they turned around together as the hole finished repairing itself. "I believe it is nearly-"
Alexander's words were cut off as a speeding fox patronus passed through the roof, landing inside of his head with the nuzzle protruding out of his face. Harry managed to hear the resigned sigh coming from the elder wizard as the fox spoke.
"Your new wand is ready, Mister Potter. It is truly a marvel to behold," Maria the wandmaker's voice said cryptically and the Patronus dissipated.
Alex sighed once more. "Fine. Let us go."
X
Like before, Harry sat in the eccentric wandmaker's workshop alone as Alexander waited patiently outside. In front of him, instead of materials like before rested a sole, black rectangular box. It was pretty plain looking, but Harry could feel the subtle emittance of magic caused by the wand. If it was up to him, he would already have it in his hands, but Maria had threatened him with dismemberment should he touch her creation before she allowed him to do so.
"The wand made for you is an odd combination, to say the least. I will not argue with the materials, as it would be unwise of me to do so, but they are still odd. In fact, I don't recall ever using your chosen core before this day."
Harry's curiosity peaked. He remembered feeling the core - it was barely three hours ago, after all. It felt soft, like fur.
"Your core is the fur of a Hound of Annwn," Maria said plainly. The name reminded Harry of something but he wasn't exactly sure what it was. The wandmaker huffed in irritation. "It even comes from your Isles, dimwit. As per Welsh mythos, they are the Hellhounds of Annwn. To vastly simplify things, the Welsh version of Hades. You might think, 'why the Hound of Annwn and not any other hellhound, oh magnificent Maria'? The answer lies in the symbolism.
"You could very well have the fur of a Cerberus. As a wand core, it is more attuned to protection and again, I over simplify it. Your particular wand core thrives on retribution and punishment, and a particular association with honour. This core has no particular attunement to a specific branch of magic, but it tends to lean closer to the darker side of things.
"Now, for the wood. It is the rarely used, and magnificent Laurel. The wood of victory, glory and power. It is pretty self-explanatory, really. Wands made of Laurel revel in the victories of their wizard and often pair with wizards and witches of exceptional power. A proud wood if I've ever seen one," Maria concluded with a nod to herself. "Thirteen and a half inches. Unyielding, much like you."
With those final words, she opened the black box and Harry had the pleasure of looking upon his new wand.
It was straight, long and intricately designed. The light brown colour of the wand was contrasting with the considerably darker hue of the vine-like pattern swirling around the length in seemingly random patterns. The pattern was also way more dense towards the handle of the wand rather than the tip where carved laurel leaves lay like a crown.
"It's beautiful," Harry said, breathless, feeling the tug on his magic as he took it in his hand.
An indescribably warm feeling exploded within him on contact with the focus, and a warm breeze swept throughout the workshop. To Harry it felt almost as if he had found a part of himself he never knew he had lost. The connection he felt to the wand was greater than even his first wand, something he chalked up to the phoenix core wand being ready-made while this laurel wand was custom-made and had been fully tailored to him.
A manic grin spread across his face as he felt complete once more and he moved his wand in an arc above his head, covering the space in golden sparks.
"Magnificent!" Maria cooed as she observed the match she had created. "I expect great things from you with this wand, Mr Potter."
As Harry got down from his high and secured the wand in his holster - which had automatically reshaped itself to fit the new wand - he frowned.
Maria's words brought a memory to his mind unbidden, a memory of words he had heard when he'd bought his first wand.
"I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter … After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."
"I plan to be great," Harry said quietly, his eyes alight with determination. "But I'll try not to be too terrible."
"Oh I wouldn't worry about it, I don't peg you for an evil guy," the wandmaker said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Besides, even terrible things can be done in the name of everything that is good and holy. In the same vein, magnificent things can be done for the sheer purpose of ruining the world we live in. Take some advice from this old lady," her smile turning kindly and grandmotherly. Harry was vaguely disturbed by the sight of such a tender and aged expression from a woman who looked so young. "Whatever you do, make sure it is done for the right reasons. You have a difficult path ahead of you, so make sure to not lose yourself in it."
Harry nodded with a slight smile of his own.
He didn't plan to lose himself to this ordeal in the first place.
"Now, if you don't want a repeat of your first visit, I suggest you exit on your own. And please, take care of your new wand. No tailored wand can be made twice."
Harry bolted upright in fear of being blasted through the office and he nodded.
"Thank you," he said with a slight bow and quickly left the room, leaving a chuckling Maria behind him.
Alexander was waiting in the corridor like the first time and he looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"No expulsion this time?"
"I guess not," Harry shrugged as they started walking.
"Damn, she must really like you then," Alex said thoughtfully.
"Unfortunately, she is too old for me," he said with a sage nod, earning a smack from the elder for his cheek.
"We would visit the Department of Prophetic Studies as well at some point, but I believe we should return home first so that you can get settled in."
"Yeah," Harry said with a smile, excited to start this new journey in his life. "I'd love that."
X
All the way back in Britain, Sirius was lounging in the drawing room of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. His hands were steepled together and providing support to his head which was lowered, plagued with thoughts and worries.
Narcissa sat in an old Georgian lady's chair nearby, daintily sipping on her teacup. Regulus, able to move around the ancestral home of the Blacks barely a day after he awoke, was observing his older brother from the fireplace. Between the three, a copy of the morning Prophet lay open on a small wooden table. The title read in massive, eye catching letters:
Trial scheduled for mass murderer,
Sirius Black!
Motioned by Albus Dumbledore,
Endorsed by Interim Minister Amelia Bones!
"Well," Regulus said idly. "You will have justice, after all. At least they don't think you're dead."
"They will learn, Reggie," Narcissa said in a sad manner.
"No, I don't think that would be wise. I will still be tried as a Death Eater and a willing one."
"Severus was also a willing Death Eater, but he got out of it by being a spy. You would be more than able to claim the same."
"I'm afraid that would be most unwise," a voice drawled from the door. The man came in, dressed fully in black as per usual. His robes, however, lacked the characteristic billowing that could often be seen at Hogwarts.
"He's right," Sirius agreed in a quiet tone. "Regulus would set a precedent and it would jeopardise Snape's position."
"Moreover, in order to prove that he is indeed a traitor, we would need to also reveal our knowledge of the Horcruxes. I'm sorry, but Regulus can only be saved if, and only if, the Dark Lord dies."
"Well, that is for certain. I did deck him, after all. He will try to punish the slight," Regulus said cheerfully.
Sirius' eyes lit up in amusement as he remembered the scene of Regulus blitzing across the atrium to send the Dark Lord packing with a strong right hook. Despite the grim circumstances, he could see the humour in that.
"I still insist you teach me those enhancement spells of yours," Sirius said.
"No," the three other occupants of the room said all at the same time, though Snape was the only one to continue.
"Despite your… propensity for needless heroics and a penchant for violence, Black, you should be more than able to realise that they will harm you," the potions master drawled.
"You should really stop calling him Black. There are three of us now," Regulus said.
"It is not something to change. You are Regulus, she is Cissa and he is Black," Snape answered with a jab of his thumb towards Sirius who yelled in indignation.
"Well, I won't lie and say it is not deserved," Narcissa added before taking a sip of her tea. "Sorry Siri."
"You don't sound, nor look, even a slight bit apologetic," the offended man deadpanned.
His cousin simply shrugged and he huffed in resignation.
Ever since Narcissa had become a part of the Order and, by extension, somewhat of an aunt to Harry, she took it upon herself to mend relationships in general. One of them was the bad blood between Sirius and Snape. They were by no means friends, but they had decided to leave matters of the past where they belonged. Moreover, they were both intelligent enough to realise that there were other issues, underlying and buried deep within themselves that needed to be addressed.
"On to other matters," Snape said as he pulled out a vial with a white, glowing substance from his robes. "Your memory has been cleared for use in court, Narcissa. While not necessary, it effectively guarantees your cousin's freedom."
The woman merely dipped her head.
"So my sentence ends tomorrow huh," Sirius said quietly, just enough for the others to hear him. He then raised his eyes to take a proper look at the others, a new, hopeful glimmer shining in his grey eyes. He was grateful for their support, even Snape, despite the unlikeliness of their alliance.
"I suppose I have to make my godson proud then."
X
"Bombarda."
That was the first word Harry heard as he stirred awake from his peaceful slumber. He felt rather than heard the sound of the incoming spell that landed underneath his bed, sending himself and the wooden shrapnel that used to be his bed smashing through the glass window.
As his instincts kicked into overdrive, he snapped his wrist and his new laurel wand shot out of the holster and into his hand. He turned his hand towards where he thought the window was even as he tried to orient himself on top of his airborne mattress.
"Deprimo Maxima!"
The bolt of magic left his wand but it was for nought. The pale red bolt was deflected back underneath him, landing on the rapidly approaching ground and gouging out a hole of unknown depth in the soft soil.
"Fuck," Harry cursed as he tried to make out his blurry surroundings, curtesy of his lack of glasses which were probably still on the bedside table. He blindly aimed towards the ground and cast a cushioning charm, followed by a slowing charm on himself.
"You forget your opponent!" a now familiar voice came from above him and Harry's thoughts snapped back into clarity.
He was at Alexander's house somewhere in the second leg of Chalkidiki. He was sleeping for the night in a rather spartan bedroom, decorated with nothing but the absolute necessities. The man that had apparently blasted him out of the room on the second floor was Alexander himself. As the mattress approached the ground, Alexander fired off another two red coloured spells towards him and Harry jumped off the mattress just in time, the spells struck it, sending the smouldering remains of the mattress into the hole that Harry stood behind.
"Accio Glasses."
He felt the tug of his magic summoning the glasses from the bedroom and he knew that they were soaring towards him, but somewhere along the way his connection to the summoned object was broken.
He wasted too much time trying to understand what had happened to his glasses and the wind was knocked out of his lungs as the remains of the bed were banished right on top of him. His head was spinning and he was dazed to recover from the blow that he had suffered, but he still tried to move from underneath the bed and out of the way of the next attack.
"Avada Kedavra."
A bright emerald green bolt of magic landed right next to his head, sending up an eruption of dirt and he stopped cold.
"You're dead. This is your first death against me. Your challenge is to not die more than twenty times during our…schooling," Alexander said as he walked next to the still downed Harry.
Try as he might, he could not focus on the blurry form of his new mentor to glower at him. He heard a scoff of derision coming from him.
"You're no better than a blind man, but without the heightened senses. We will remedy this."
"Where are my glasses?" Harry asked as he tried to leave the not so tender embrace of wreckage on top of him.
"Vanished, but let's ignore that fact for a bit. I have to ask, are you not a wizard, boy?" Alexander asked as he observed Harry's pathetic attempts to escape from the heap of broken wood.
The attempts stopped and Harry growled.
"Reparo," he grunted and the remains of the bed were launched towards the sky, and brought themselves together, wood sealing itself to its siblings as the frame fixed itself, before landing a few metres away from them. He got to his feet and tried in vain to clean the soil and grass from his clothes. "Why did you vanish my glasses? You know that I cannot see without them, don't you?"
If the older wizard was fazed by the snark coming from his student, he didn't show it.
"Because they are a liability. I cannot fathom why, nor how, nobody has exploited that glaring weakness of yours. I mean, honestly. You can do so much stuff to completely neutralise a wizard wearing glasses or having any sort of disability. For example," with a flick of his wand, a wooden replica of Harry's glasses materialised in his palm. "Here, take them."
Harry simply took them and put them on.
"Accio glasses."
Harry let out a yelp of pain as the prop was ripped out of his face, bruising his temples. "Why do you have to do this?" he asked, fully incensed as his wand shot out golden sparks.
"Because you need to be taught. Even if you do enchant them with various spells and protections, they are a liability. Therefore, you will no longer wear them. You will train blindly, but to remedy that we will have magic sensory exercises every evening."
"Is that all?" Harry grumbled.
"No," Alex said mischievously as he started moving his wand around him in an arc, repairing all the remaining damage that had been done to the house, the bed and the grounds. "Every morning I will wake you up in a manner similar to today. I don't care how you deal with it, but you will. Or your deaths will rack up. We will then have breakfast and physical training. After that, we will take a couple of hours to travel around Greece for various reasons. Then, comes lunch."
After the repairs had been finished and the bed and mattress were once again in the bedroom on the second floor, Alexander started moving back towards the house, while continuing to recite the schedule to Harry. "After lunch, you have the luxury of a single hour of nap time. After that, we will work on spellcasting and learning new spells of my choice. Then, sensory exercises, in which you will be blindfolded and will try to evade stinging hexes. After that, dinner, and finally, we will assess your progress in becoming an Animagus."
"Fine," Harry said as he tried to wrap his head around the packed schedule. "When do we start?"
"Now," the older wizard said and sent a stinging hex towards Harry, hitting him on the arm. He did not have the opportunity to glower, however, as he saw more flashes of light heading his way.
"Start running! I want twenty laps around the house before you can even think of breathing!"
X
Six people sat around the large wooden table that lay in the centre of the dining room within the Greengrass household. At its head sat Cyrus Greengrass who was half-heartedly eating his dinner, distracted and very clearly annoyed at something. Although he tried to maintain nonchalant, his wife and sister-in-law both had gleeful expressions as they tried to provoke a reaction from the wizard.
Beside his sister-in-law, his nephew struggled to stay awake as he ate his soup, several times nearly falling asleep into it. Opposite his nephew, Cyrus' eldest daughter snickered, both at her cousin's exhaustion and her mother and aunt's continued attempts to get a rise out of Cyrus. At the end of the table, his youngest daughter sat scribbling away on a piece of bright orange parchment with three large purple "W's" at the top, a sign that it had been provided by the Weasley twins.
As the two Italian women continued to needle and tease him, he finally put down his poon and addressed the room at large.
"As you know, a couple of days ago, the Wizengamot privately tried Sirius Black."
Upon hearing his words, all the activity at the table ceased and Cyrus knew he had everyone's full attention.
"Daphne, did you know of Harry's relationship with Lord Black?"
"I did see him at the Ministry," Daphne started, expertly ignoring her father's twitching eye. Ever since the day Daphne had returned home from the Ministry, the events of the end of term had been a sore subject. Of course, he supported his daughter's decision to side with the one who she very obviously wanted to be beside, but the manner in which it had been done was a bit too extreme in Cyrus' not so humble opinion. "But I didn't know about their relationship, no."
"Right. Well, I'm pleased to inform you that Harry Potter's oathsworn Godfather has been acquitted of all charges," Cyrus announced calmly.
"Hold on," his wife said. "Oathsworn? He performed the magical Godfather Oath?"
"Indeed."
"Then…"
"He would be unable to betray the Potters. Mother Magic would claim his life as collateral for breaking the oath." Camilla murmured as realisation dawned on her and her sister's faces.
"It would be an attempt to murder his sworn Godson by proxy. Dear Merlin, how was he locked up for twelve years?" Isabella said indignantly.
"Well, the Prophet will publish a formal and extremely censored statement tomorrow morning announcing his freedom. You will see none of this in the paper, except for the vote count, which, for the first time in many years, was unanimous. But you should not even bother with the paper tomorrow, because it won't have a proper report on the proceedings. Which is a shame, because the trial was a complete and utter shitshow."
Cyrus put down his cutlery and steepled his hands underneath his head, resting his chin on them. He wasn't looking at any member of his family, opting to instead gaze out of the large windows of the manor that faced opposite his chair, but he knew he had their undivided attention. "I don't even know where to begin. For starters, Sirius Black appeared in the courtroom looking everything but a fugitive. He looked polished, healthy and every bit the pureblood lord, wearing black Acromantula Silk robes with the Black family crest sewn onto it in silver thread. As for the trial itself; Pettigrew is alive, he was the Secret Keeper that betrayed the Potters, Harry Potter himself helped Sirius escape custody at the end of his Third Year and then tried to help hide him. As for how he came to be imprisoned despite his innocence, the blame fell on the late Barty Crouch Senior who sent him off to Azkaban without a trial. We don't know and can no longer find out why he did that."
The Greengrass patriarch took a hefty swig of his firewhiskey, savouring the taste and the burning feeling that went down his throat with it. His family knew better than to interrupt him by now.
"Those facts by themselves would be enough, but the revelation of the oath sent the whole thing into a downward spiral. As young Harry has Black blood though his great grandmother Dorea and is Sirius Black's oathsworn godson, he is eligible for the Black lordship. That should have been unimportant because Sirius Black was always known to have been cast out from the Black family. However, his mother Walburga never had such authority and the late Lord Arcturus Black never cast him out. Then, Lord Black claimed his lordship in the middle of the trial, and that caused the will of Arcturus Black to be opened in an emergency reading, voted for by the members of the Wizengamot. In Arcturus' very own will, Harry Potter is stated as the primary and only heir of the Black lordship."
Cyrus momentarily stopped speaking and turned his eyes to the varying expressions of shock and surprise amongst his family members. His gaze lingered on his eldest daughter, the sole occupant of the room that didn't look the least bit shocked at the revelations.
"That brought the subject of your classmate, Draco Malfoy, to attention, since he has always been thought to be the prospective new Lord Black when he came of age. Obviously brought forth by the darker side of the factions, but it was not a wise move. Since none of the Mafloys were able to be present for the proceedings, they tried to interrupt the proceedings until a proper investigation and contest for the role of the Black heir could be fulfilled. But, Narcissa Black, having annulled her marriage in way of a magical vow and providing the necessary documents, has broken the ties of the House of Black to the House of Malfoy. She came out in front of the entire Wizangamot, looking every bit the daughter of the House of Black. Poised, collected and proud.
"To add further insult to injury, Lord Black, standing side by side with his cousin and somehow looking even more dignified than her, publicly and very dramatically cast Draco Malfoy out of the Black family, making it impossible for the already disgraced family to ever claim even the smallest pieces of the Black Estate."
"But… she is the boy's mother," Camilla said as she pondered on Narcissa's actions.
"Yes, and it showed. I don't believe that Narcissa did this because she has ill will against her own son. Well concealed pain could be seen in her eyes," Cyrus said. "I believe it was mostly a move to cripple the influence of Malfoy and his ability to help You-Know-Who.
"Nevertheless, the rest of the spectacle ended in a contest of which Lord or Lady could be the loudest when push came to shove. Fines were passed around like Dumbledore's lemon drops, most notably to Regent Longbottom who spat on Lord Fawley's face for some reason I'm not aware of. But when she heard of the fine, she huffed, spat on his face twice more saying, and I quote, 'I have no issue paying pittance to spit on filth'."
Cyrus waited for a moment for the laughter to die down, though he was smiling out of mirth, as well.
"What you should all gather from those events, is that things are getting shaken up. Change is coming, and we happen to have chosen a side this time."
His eyes landed on his daughter who looked back with equal intensity.
"I can only hope that the writing on the wall is not false. I hope that we will win."
X
"Magic is more than you realise," Alexander's voice filled the dark room in which he and Harry were sitting. As with the previous days, it was evening and the young Potter was getting tutored in spellcasting, which had a surprisingly long segment of theory.
As per usual for the past week, Harry was very tired. He was better adapted now to the harsh training regiment of his Greek tutor, but the fatigue he felt could not be shaken off. Yet, he was focused on the lesson.
"Magic, you see, is not just the ability to move a wand and produce a result. No, that description is not only lacking, it is an insult to the force that is Mother Magic.
"You see, we live here. In this world, on this planet, each and every one of us, be it Ámagoi or wizards or creatures, simple or not. We exist in this reality, dictated by the laws of nature our forefathers studied for years on end. Ámagoi study and research physics, chemistry and biology, trying to figure out the truth of this world and how it works. They make groundbreaking revelations, and give names to the core functions of reality. Those things are set in stone, anchored to this world and they in turn anchor the reality we all live in."
Alexander stood up from his chair, taking his wand out. Harry hungrily absorbed his every word, knowing full well by now that Alex knew what he was talking about.
"That is the reason we hide from Ámagoi, for the most part. They ground themselves in normalcy and the set notions that make our reality what it is, while we, the witches and wizards of the world, play with it.
"Magic, Harry Potter, is not just a tool to make things happen. Magic is the force above reality. Magic twists, it bends, and moulds reality into our image. It cannot be understood by Ámagoi; it cannot even be understood by us, the ones who use it. And, as is usual for humans, they fear what they cannot understand.
"Gravity," Alexander said and with a twirl of his wand, Harry suddenly felt extremely light. With wide eyes he noticed that every object in the room floated momentarily before being set back to their place. "See how easy it is for a wizard to override the law of nature called gravity. To change the value, to make it non-existent or," with another twirl, Harry felt the contents of his stomach being pulled downwards before he found himself on his knees, panting and trying futilely to stand up. "To make it unbearable."
The gravitational pull stopped, only to be replaced by the gravitational pull of the wall behind him.
"To even change its origin. Magic can do that. But it can do more. So much more. An example you should be familiar with would be this."
With a flick of his wand a torrent of flames washed over Harry, who panicked and braced himself for the burn. Yet, he felt nothing. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the flames licking at his body, surrounding him. "The Flame-Freezing charm. I can make the flames lose their heat, but not their substance, which according to physics cannot possibly happen, at least not in our normal conditions.
"You can make shadows swallow light. You can play around with temperature, making impossible things happen. You can even manipulate time, with the right tools to do so."
The flames vanished and Harry turned his eyes back to his mentor's. The emerald orbs had a hungry quality to them.
"Wizards are the conduits of the force we call magic. Do not see magic as the tool, Harry. You must realise that you are not a user of magic, merely its conduit. You must not learn to wield magic, but let it flow through you in your image. You are a conductor, and the magic you produce is a symphony."
Alexander raised his wand and Harry mirrored the action with a lopsided grin.
"Now, my boy. Do not just use magic on me. Alter reality itself, as is your birthright to do so!"