Eleven and twelve-year-olds, novices in the study of magic, are taught using incantations and wand movements. Their initial steps into their magical education are purposefully lead to the assumption that magic is simple. Say a few words, do the wand motions correctly, and concentrate and you will produce your result. They are taught intention, willpower and tricked into using their magical power. To start, there is virtually no creativity. As they entrench themselves deeper into their magical education they are taught the most basic theories of magic, including the four pillars of magic. The four aspects of magic are not nearly as differentiated as the novice is taught. As one begins to study silent casting, the most adept students will begin to understand the real importance of words and body movements.

Incantations and wand movements are for the purpose of making the child believe what they are trying to do is possible. You do not ask a child to hold their wand and produce a light at the end of it without speaking or using wand motions. You cannot say to a child that you want them to jump as high as the tallest tree and expect good results. The child must believe the goal is achievable; even a novice will recognize the unjust request and their effort will be most unsatisfactory. Children are impressionable and have a unique worldview. They have ingrained and preconceived understandings of how things should work; what child believes they can knock out an adult? A child that can cast lumos is equally as capable of casting stupefy. There is not a single credible theoretical basis, in magical theory, that could refute it. Given that truth, why does it take until they have begun to reach adolescence to see admirable results casting the stupefy?

Children are taught one step at a time. They are breastfed until they can be weaned off the teets. No infant comes out of the womb ready to eat food of real substance, so they are given milk. When novices begin to learn magic they are, magically, far more capable than the pedestrian pace of the first two years. The primary function of the educator, whether they understand what they are doing or not, is training the children's belief system. They are not ready for meat, they believe that all they are capable of ingesting is milk from their mother teets. They need to be weaned off before they yearn for real substance.

The first spell they learn in Charms class is lumos, a feat so minor even squibs are capable of producing the same result. The professor demonstrates the spell, the children see how minor it is, and they are told it is the easiest spell there is to cast. They can see and analyze the result with their senses. They only believe it is magic because of what they can hear, see, taste, and touch. When they attempt the spell, their mind and body act in cohesion. The first two years of their formal education are focused on moulding them into pupils that can, finally, be ready to begin their real tutelage.

To start, they learn how capable magic is, they learn how to use the library, they learn discipline, and they learn the reading and writing skills required to accelerate their education. Magically, they are as capable as they were as first-year students. If taught my way, third-year students would be ready for discarding exaggerated wand movements and incantations all together. I have quarrelled with my fellow founders on not wasting the first two years. My standards are far beyond my dear Helga's. Even Rowena takes me to task for pushing the students too hard. Godric understands. You do not become all that you can be if you are not pushed to do so! Children are treated far too kindly, they are babied, and they are pandered to instead of taught how harsh this world truly is. This I know and believe.

Belief, the topic that I have rambled on about with anecdotes. Returning to the heart of the matter, what is it? Is belief intent? Is it willpower? Does one not try harder when they believe what they are doing is possible? Does belief empower them?

Does one not dream about what they can do with magic and does one not dare to believe in their own dreams? Which of the four aspects of magic is belief? There is a universal truth that is fervently found in magic. The more you learn, the more you comprehend how little you truly understand.

Believe in yourself! Believe in the impossible! Do not let your mind limit your magic! Magic has guidelines, not rules! And never forget, magic is sentient.

 

 

Twenty-five targets from forty paces. Not quite as easy had he first had thought. Harry kept firing piercing hex after piercing hex. Every single spell he now cast was done silently. He was still working on minimizing the movements of his wand when spellcasting. Apparently, modern wizards were lazy. They did not believe ; they did not push themselves. Salazar's books indicated Harry should have been casting silently at the end of his second year. There was very little theory needed for silent casting. Using verbal cues helped the wizard or witch to properly intend the spell. When one says 'lumos' they know, specifically, what effect they want.

Whenever Flitwick teaches the spell, he shows the wand motion and very carefully goes through the proper pronunciation. For eleven-year-olds, these were just verbal and physical ways to ensure your intent was specific to the result you wanted. The diminutive professor shows exactly what the spell should look like. When the first-year students cast the spell, they use their physical body, mental focus, and their magic power to create a very specific effect, the tip of your wand lighting up in the same manner as the professors did. The charm 'lumos' can be varied far beyond just the minor light on the end of your wand.

The explanations of why things were taught as they were were helping Harry. He sped through all of his course work these days. He'd rummaged through his trunk to find his first, second and third-year texts and could now cast all of the spells silently. Silent casting was not very difficult once he understood its mechanisms. He just had to practice.

Harry had been a rather poor student in his first three years. He had not enjoyed reading and learning magic. There were always so very many tedious assignments and theory that was easy to comprehend. So, why he did he have to regurgitate it in five different ways just to make the required length for the assignments he was regularly given? He hated reading the same boring background information from four different authors just because the professor had assigned six inches and a minimum of three sources, meaning four or more if you wanted a decent grade. According to the founder of the school, the exercise of researching and restating facts was to improve his literary skills, not his magical ones. That was one place muggles were ahead of wizards. They taught students entire classes on reading and writing proficiency.

Harry was spending huge portions of his day practising magic. He had picked up the fifth-year books, of the three wanded subjects, to ensure he would be able to work towards his OWLs. Charms, Transfiguration, and DADA were all progressing really well. It was amazing how much he could accomplish without spending hours writing papers. With giving it all his effort and focus, he learned new skills quickly. He would need to be able to write out the theory for the OWL exams but he wasn't worried. He knew it inside and out, thanks to Salazar's works.

The change in tuition style had truly freed the boy. He no longer was stifled, as if he was trying to drink everything with a child's straw. The rainbow-coloured, whirly, twirly, bendy straw. The kind of ridiculously flamboyant toy that catches the eye but is horrendous at performing its primary function. It feels like you've accomplished something amazing when you are finally able to get any amount of liquid through the rainbow-coloured monstrosity. His deceased mentor had taken the lid off and removed the rainbow straw. Now he had a normal glass and could drink it all in, as quickly as he could handle it.

Harry finally completed this round, hitting the 25th one. Sweat was running down his face; he had to wipe it away from his eyes again. Three hours of relentless spell casting was finally complete. Most days he followed the same schedule. Wake up, do some form of physical workout, eat, spellcasting, eat, study, eat, magical practice/study, eat, and free time. The first meal was nutrition for recovering from his first workout. After any magical workout, he needed more calories. His day started at six and his second meal was normally just after ten in the morning.

After exerting himself physically and then magically he moved on to his mind work out. Most days he would find a book glowing for him to study out of. This part of his education was congruent with his wishes. He needed to get his three OWLs. The only other topic he seemed to be forced into, on a regular basis, was Runes. They were so common in the wizarding world he would have to learn them. He already knew what happened when he tried to skip reading a book. None of the others would get added, or freshly revealed, information. Not until he'd actually studied it would it let him progress.

His new form of education was simple and straightforward. It was self-paced and held back only by his work ethic and time constraints. He didn't have to waste mental capacity keeping track of what was due when. There wasn't pressure to read the chapter before class started. No wasting time trying to look busy when he had completed his task because he didn't want to upset the professor.

Harry moved to the small table he had in his bedroom. He took many of his meals there. Dobby, the ever efficient elf, already had his meal ready for him. Above his meal was the reply he had received from Madame Lacroix. He was going to be meeting her tonight at 6 pm. Her reply was rather short and asking him to come so late was peculiar, he thought. Business hours are ending, or have ended, by then. It worked for him as his normal daily training regime ended with dinner.

He seldom saw any books glow with new information after dinner. There was no daily task list that was provided for him. In the mornings, books did not light up for him to study. The memoir had made it clear that Salazar trained in the morning physically and magically every single day. The discussion on rituals explained it clearly.

Rituals were not really capable of making one great and powerful. A wizard could complete the 3x3x7 set or even attempt 3x7x7 set and it wouldn't make them a mighty wizard on its own. Rituals that were designed to do this were unnatural and Salazar, always, warned him off of even debating them. Magic exacted a price for it. The rituals Salazar had designed for his heirs were to augment their natural abilities and add to their maximum potential. Harry understood it in terms of sports. All people have genetic dispositions. Some are born with the capabilities others wished came naturally to them. At the beginning stages of their development, they will be far ahead of their competitors. It is not enough for the most serious of athletes.

At the top levels, good genetics only increases their maximum potential, and very few ever reach it. Athletes dedicate countless hours every day to work on their craft. Their sleep patterns, their diet, their exercise regime, their coaching, and so on- matters most. Those with the best genetics can only maintain their top spot if they match the commitment their competitors make. The point of the rituals was to put the Slytherin heirs at the top of the totem pole with the assumption they will do the work required to be there. It adds to their maximum potential, no more no less.

 

 

Harry had followed the instructions on the letter, well, to the letter. He'd used the floo to arrive at the Lacroix Ballet Academy. He wasn't sure exactly where it was but the floo trip seemed a lot longer than his trip from the Burrow to Diagon Alley. It was fortunate that the floo access at the Three Broomsticks was open to the general public. Just like with the Leaky Cauldron, it brought people and just coming in to use the free public floo made most patrons into customers. On the way in or out they get some kind of food or drink. Honest people don't like getting free things. It makes them want to pay it back. It was a sound and proven business tactic.

Arriving at the ballet studio fifteen minutes early, he stopped to watch. A girl was going through exercises with her hand on a wooden railing and an older woman watching with a critical eye. Neither of them had bothered to glance at the newcomer, focused on whatever it was that they were doing. The girl practising and the teacher correcting or commenting.

At exactly 6 pm, the two stopped. The young gal thanked her teacher and walked off to what Harry guessed was a change room. The woman turned on her heel and looked directly at him.

"Mr Potter I presume?" She asked. She did not look for his scar like almost every adult did upon meeting him.

"Yes ma'am, feel free to call me Harry." He replied with a nervous smile.

She did not return it. She looked him up and down instead. What she was looking for, he had no idea. She swept her eyes from head to toe more than once before she said anything further.

"I am Madame Lacroix. Please come to my office." She purposefully strode out of the studio area and walked past Harry towards a hallway. She set a brisk pace which Harry scurried to catch up to. She swept into a lavish office. Muggle pictures adorned the wall of women in ballet outfits in various poses. Harry could see how incredibly ordered the room was. Dobby would be in heaven here with how organized everything was.

She sat down behind her desk and beckoned him to the solitary chair in front of her desk. He sat down and looked back at her.

"To begin with I would like to have some questions answered." The woman could simply be described as stately. Impeccably put together with her hair in a tightly wrapped bun. She could easily be pulled out of a history book where she was sitting beside a Prime Minister or President. She gave off that kind of air of composure.

Harry slowly nodded his head. "That seems reasonable." He responded slowly.

"You are aware this is a ballet studio?" She asked crisply.

Harry nodded.

"You are aware Ballet and Ballroom dancing aren't the same thing?"

Harry's eyes widened a little realizing he hadn't checked if the academy teaches anything beyond ballet. He'd just gone with Dobby's memory. His mind whirled to the girl practising when he came in and his torturous mind immediately pictured Draco in a leotard. He noticeably grimaced.

Harry flushed in embarrassment. "Err, I'm not really, uh, sure?"

"Who told you that I educate prominent heirs in very rare circumstances?"

"Nar… Narcissa Malfoy?"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Narcissa Malfoy told you I provide these services?" She asked in an accusing manner as if she knew he was lying.

"No- no- not exactly?" He stuttered in response to being caught in his lie.

"Then who exactly told you." Could this woman be McGonagall's sister? Uncanny.

"Her former house-elf."

"A House elf?" Harry actually looked back up at her eyes now. Her eyebrow was delicately raised in slight surprise.

"Yes, I, uh, freed him from the Malfoy's because they abused him… He remembered your company's name from when he was their elf."

"I see."

She stared at him measuringly.

"Correct me if I'm mistaken, you have no formal dance instruction, you will be taking part in the Yule Ball of the Triwizard Tournament, and your first action is to ask a house elf's advice to request instruction from a Ballet Academy?"

At this point, there was really very little to worry about being embarrassed about. The sparse logic behind his actions, if there was any, would be rather tedious to explain. The worst she could do would be to kick him out and blab about the affair to throngs of reporters. He'd endured bad media and had always faced the ridicule of others. What did he lose?

"Yes ma'am."

She did not comment; she stared at him for a few seconds clearly trying to formulate her next move. His answers seemed to be throwing her for a loop.

"Mr Potter, I took this meeting out of curiosity as much as anything else. Do you know why that could be?"

Harry scrutinized her words taking a moment to think before responding.

"Not really ma'am. I'd assume it's to do with me being the Boy-Who-Lived?" He couldn't help but scowl at the hyphenated name.

"Yes and no." That response puzzled him. He let her explain.

"The short answer is you are an enigma. Even this meeting brings up more questions than it answers."

Harry frowned in silence. He wasn't really sure what the elegant woman was getting at.

"Since that fateful day, you have been a wizarding celebrity without precedence."

That didn't add up in his head. Without precedence? Quirking his head to the right Harry asked, "How so?"

"You're not aware?" she retorted quickly at him. Harry felt like an abashed schoolboy. There was nothing easy about this conversation. She gave no quarter.

"Well, it was explained to me that I was the Boy-Who-Lived when I was eleven. That I'm famous because I survived the killing curse and in doing so stopped my parent's murderer?"

If she noticed his word choice which didn't make it clear that the Dark Lord was dead, like normal, she didn't say it. Neither did her reaction.

"It is far more than that; it's a conglomeration of more than just surviving a curse… It was the curse. The curse that hasn't failed to kill, a target it hit, with a track record over a millennium and a half long."

She kept going. "Really, that's just the tip of the iceberg. There is far far more to it or simply surviving may have just been an interesting feat noted in books. Partly it was that the aberration of your survival vanquished an actual Dark Lord. Your home country was losing its wizarding civil war. Continental Europe had refused to involve itself after their loses to Grindelwald. Your living prevented all the other nations from having to join and that fed your fame."

Harry sat transfixed listening to her wax on about his fame. Hagrid had never provided these kinds of thoughts. Harry had not spared even errant thoughts on his fame.

"You-Know-Who was a real Dark Lord. Grindelwald was… kind… compared to him. The german mad man may have been as powerful but he wasn't nearly so cruel. He didn't wipe out families with sadistic actions, his men did not violate women in unnatural ways for sheer amusement, neither he nor his men forced family members to kill their own kin, and so much worse…"

Her voice went quiet as she trailed off lost in memories best forgotten.

Harry waited, not really sure what to say. All he knew of Grindelwald was that Albus Dumbledore defeated the man. It was one of his most cited accomplishments, alongside his work on the uses of dragon blood with Nicholas Flamel.

"That is not all." She started out again, quietly. "You were secreted away and nobody heard anything of you for nearly a decade. There were always reports on you but they all turned out to be falsified information. The first real report anyone had about you was when the Daily Prophet informed everyone you were sorted into Gryffindor, like your parents, and were named the youngest Seeker in a century," she chuckled softly. "The second thing the public learns of you is you were exceptional yet again."

Harry looked at her oddly. "Which house I was sorted into and getting on the quidditch team was reported across the UK?" He didn't remember hearing or reading about that.

"Yes but not just there. I read about it in France and I'm sure many more countries reported on it."

"In France and more! Why would they do that?"

"I just told you, Mr Potter."

"Just because I prevented them from fighting Voldemort?" That didn't seem to be quite enough reason to follow the life of a child from another country.

She took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled.

"There is just too much you do not understand and we have strayed rather far from the main topic. Let us return to it."

Harry wanted to continue on but disregarded his thoughts on the matter. He did need dance instruction and hoped this would work out. The lady was reminding him of a French McGonagall, though not quite so rigid. She seemed cross with him at the start. He thought she was getting gradually warmer in her interaction with him.

"You are an enigma because what everyone expected to hear and see of you is not what is known. Dumbledore has kept your life more private than anyone could have ever successfully guessed. Now, you are once again the very centre of a historic international tournament. A tournament full of drama and intrigue."

Harry was getting annoyed she wasn't getting to the point. Could she not just have talked to him about teaching him to dance?

"Do you know what we do here?"

Harry lightly huffed at the question. His earlier impression was wrong. She was not McGonagall. A bastardized amalgamation of McGonagall and Dumbledore fit better. The posture and hard exterior of the cat animagus professor mixed the awfully annoying habit of answering a question with another question like Dumbledore.

"You teach dance and specialize in ballet?"

She looked at him like he was but a small child being educated about the wider world by his parents.

"This is Lacroix Ballet Academy. My family has, for generations, produced wizarding ballet stars. We are the premier school for ballet in the European wizarding world. This is not your neighbourhood dance school. There are no classes for ballroom dancing here. There are but highly coveted spots in our school and small productions." She wasn't boasting in her delivery, she was just giving him a statement of fact.

"Oh… so you don't teach what I need then?" Harry was forlorn that he'd just wasted a couple of days. Hopefully, she would at least give him a lead on where he could learn so this wasn't a total waste of time.

"Did I say that hmm?" She looked cross with him as she continued to question him sharply.

"Do you know how ballet productions are funded?"

Harry groaned inaudibly. The damn woman kept avoiding answering his questions directly.

"No." He wondered if she just liked to make him admit his ignorance over and over.

"We sell tickets to our productions but the gates don't even cover the cost. This studio is funded by wealthy donors who have long supported this academy. Sons and daughters of the wealthy patrons can pay for private instruction in preparing their heirs for events like your Yule Ball."

Ah, that made sense. Harry wondered if the Potter family had ever contributed. The Malfoy family must have done so to get Draco here to learn.

"Did previous generations of my family ever become a patron of the academy?" He looked at her with a faint hope that he knew was just fool's hope.

"The Potter's did not."

Harry had learned from this conversation already. He wasn't going to make an assumption here or put words into her mouth. He waited for her to speak attentively. It didn't seem like she would take this meeting when she could have informed him she wouldn't.

"As I say, you are quite the puzzle. Regardless, I doubt you have the necessary wealth to foot the amount required to be a patron here." She looked at him expectant of a response.

"I don't have access to my Family Vault yet. I don't think my trust vault would cover it." He understood that the donation would have to be very generous.

"I imagine it would not."

She kept staring at him with silent judgement before responding.

"There could be another arrangement between us if you are interested."

Harry sat forward in his chair, just a little further. "What kind of arrangement?" He asked with interest.

"I have many conditions you must agree to before we even get to that." She stated.

"What kind of conditions?"

"Before we get to that you must understand something about my tutelage. Your skill, as a dancer, will reflect directly upon me and I will never allow someone to disparage my family name. Our reputation has been maintained, untarnished, for centuries and I will not take students who will jeopardize it in any way. "

"Okay." Harry said simply drawing out the 'o'. He was going to learn to dance. How hard could it be?

"You must be here from six until ten at night. I do not tolerate tardiness and if your effort is lacking in any way our association will be ended."

That was a lot of time just to be learning how to dance. He wanted to be more than adequate but he didn't need to be a professional or anything close to it.

Madame Lacroix continued without his agreement to the condition. "You will have to deal with your press issues prior to the Yule Ball. I will not charge you any gold for my time. In compensation, you will take one of my dancers as your date. Furthermore, when you speak to the press at the Ball you will mention me and this academy. Images from the Yule Ball will be allowed to be used in promoting future productions for the period of two years."

Harry mulled that offer over. The worst part was the time commitment. Four hours of practice every night was a lot. Her condition of him being provided a date was actually a selling point. He didn't fancy a jaunt up into Hogwarts to try and ask some random girl. His only female friend he wasn't on good terms with. He could possibly ask one of his quidditch teammates like Katie Bell but he wasn't too happy with anyone in Hogwarts really. His picture authorized for advertising wasn't really a big deal either.

"I think I'll agree… but what do you mean press issue? What would I have to do?"

She looked surprised. "Do you not read any newspapers?"

Harry shook his head back and forth slowly. "No, where I stay and study I'm rather… isolated, it's very private. Other than my owl nobody can reach me."

"You will have to change that." Was her curt reply before she walked out of the room.

Harry watched her make a quick exit without explanation. She hadn't told him to follow so he waited.

She returned after a minute carrying a number of newspapers. She placed them on the desk in front of him. He saw a large wizarding picture of himself at the press conference. Under the heading and just about the other major stories and the main page article.

New York WIzarding Times

Chaos at the Triwizard Tournament pg. 2

Boy-Who-Lived is Boy-Who-Disappeared Again! pg. 3

Tumultuous Tournament Titters To Terrible Trouble pg. 4

Recap of the First Task pg. 5

Harry Potter & the Yule Ball pg. 9

Full Transcript of TWT Champions Q&A pg 14-15.

Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Spoke

Barbara Smith

Harry Potter, the famous fourth Triwizard Tournament Champion has done it again! He slipped away unnoticed by everyone during the press event that followed the first task. Anarchy and chaos followed upon it being noticed he had vanished from the podium. The Beauxbaton Champion went to follow him, as she was sitting beside him and she was unable to follow him.

A quick statement from Amelia Bones, the Ministry of Magic's Director of Law Enforcement, revealed the young man was never missing, earlier this year, he was preparing for the task at a place of his own choosing. Director Bones did not reveal any further information other than noting the young man's missing person case was now closed and should never have been filed in the first place. The DMLE director cited their policy of not commenting on the private affairs of its citizens. The international manhunt for the wayward wizard has officially been called off, though with none the wiser as to what has actually occurred.

A rather raucous press conference followed the ostentatious first task. Before his disappearing act, the youngest champion accused the tournament organizers of making a mockery of this year's tournament! His venomous viewpoint makes a compelling case which the tournament organizers were not able to fully refute. (see pg 2 for further details.)

Harry Potter, the fourteen-year-old underaged champion, first pointed out there are four champions, in an event that has never had any other number of champions than three, through its rather illustrious and undeniably infamous history.

The lack of protection for an artefact that has contrarily bound a minor in a magically binding contract is negligence of the highest order. Two respected law firms, which spoke on the condition on anonymity, speculate the school's actions could be the basis for serious charges that could range as high as a charge of attempted murder against the sole surviving scion of House Potter. The ICW courts would be the battleground of any such lawsuit(s) if legal action was ever filed.

The revelations did not end just yet! The press learned during the young man's tirade that the first task was supposed to have a used four dragons. The night before the task three dragons died with no officially reported cause yet. The DMLE Director stated the investigation is ongoing. When asked about the other investigation Harry Potter referenced the longtime DMLE employee provided….

Harry looked up from just the first paper he had looked at. When he heard Madame Lacroix speak.

"See it now?" Harry looked back towards the couple papers and realized they were from different publications. Some were even in foreign languages, though he could read his name and see pictures of his likeness. The one paper had a great shot of his death glare at the tournament organizers. Harry grinned and thought that maybe he should snag it.

"No, not really." He answered honestly.

"You are a completely inaccessible celebrity. The more reclusive you are the more they will hound you and speculate on your life. There have already been multiple articles on who your date will be for the Ball in the various Witch Weekly publications. You must be accessible at least some of the time."

"Okay…"

"Mr Potter, you will need to have at least one interview, more than likely two or three, to clear up most of the major issues. Only since the First Task has there been any sort of positive articles written about you."

Seeing the blank look was still on his face she continued having to spell out the issue.

"You are one of the very few wizarding celebrities and arguably the most famous of all."

Harry looked at her incredulously and immediately made to protest but he didn't get the opportunity.

"Think of your fellow competitor, Viktor Krum. The young man is also internationally famous. His fame has peaked to a new high after his recent World Cup performance. Even then he is not nearly as well known as you."

"But Krum has people fawning all over him at Hogwarts! He has groupies and everything!"

Harry's strong response rolled over her like waves against the shoreline.

"Krum is only famous in the quidditch world. For individuals or countries with no interest in the sport, they wouldn't know his name let alone recognize him. You, on the other hand, your name, your likeness, and your story can probably be repeated by every witch and wizard in Europe. Even the rest of the wizarding societies around the world have at least heard of your name if not the other two as well."

Lacroix was pleased the boy didn't continue to protest like an obstinate teenager. He didn't double down on a lost argument like most fourteen-year-olds would have. From the look on his face, she could see he was mulling the information over. It was a promising sign of his maturity.

"I presume you do not know who Barbara Smith is?" Harry focused back on Madame Lacroix and shook his head.

"She is a top journalist, if not the top reporter, from across the pond. Word is, she volunteered to come to cover this tournament after news of your missing person's case broke out. She's here specifically for you and what she writes will be reported across the Americas."

"Oh… is she just here to get that story or for the whole tournament?" Harry wondered aloud softly.

"I'd have guessed just to investigate and report on your disappearance but with the fallout from the first task I'd wager she's here for more than that now."

It was clear to Harry he was supposed to figure this out for himself. She wanted him to progress her line of thought himself. What would have caused it?

"My parting shots… the death of the dragons? Or.. accusing them of making a mockery of the tournament?"

Seeing her smile, even a very slight one, was nice to see. She did not keep up the stern taskmaster visage at all times. The longer they talked the more personable she was becoming. Almost like she was warming up to him.

"Very good, and yet that is just the obvious inference. Your comments have caused more insidious, unintended, repercussions." She hesitated to continue for just a moment to see if he had understood.

"Let me ask you Mr Potter, who did you outright declare as incompetent with your callous comments?"

Harry's eyebrows bunched together. "The Headmasters, Crouch and Bagman?"

"Are you sure it was just them?" She riposted with an arched eyebrow.

Harry thought who else could have been caught up in his riled remarks. His stomach dropped and his chin tucked towards his chest as his mind connected his statement with the auburn-haired woman he had internally vowed to not cross after interacting with her.

"Director Bones" he whispered out shocked at how careless he'd been. He hadn't meant her at all but he'd blurted out the dragon's deaths even when she'd told them they were not allowed to.

Harry lifted his chin back up and looked back across the desk to the woman still sitting in front of him. He hadn't expected to see the slight puzzlement on her features.

"Yes… I can see how you could reach that conclusion and yet it was not what I had in mind when I asked."

Harry couldn't think past the worry of facing Director Bones again. He'd have to write to her and apologize. Perhaps, it would be better to do it in person. Letters can be misread and he needed to make sure she understood he was solemnly sincere in his apology.

"You were right with who you named. Like many your age you fail to understand they are more than just a person. By accusing Albus Dumbledore of failing to keep you safe you are saying he has failed in his duty as Headmaster of Hogwarts, that the Chief Warlock has failed his responsibility to act in the best interests of one of its citizens, and that the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW cannot provide proper oversight to a prestigious international event. Beginning to see the larger issues you blundered into?"

Harry nodded slowly as he considered her words. It wasn't just the person he was accusing. It was their positions and the organizations they represented. So he'd accused three department heads in the Ministry of Magic, the head of the Wizengamot and ICW, the heads of all three schools and anyone else associated with the running of the tournament of gross incompetence.

"Barty Crouch is very well respected for his time leading the DMLE through the war you ended. He is the head of the Ministry's Department of International Magical Cooperation. Need I continue?"

"No ma'am."

She took pity on the young man. Fourteen-year-olds were not meant to be involved in these kinds of politics.

"Mr Potter, you are young and mistakes are expected. Part of growing up is learning from them and not making the same mistake twice."

It was good advice, he recognized right away. Harry couldn't help his growing fondness of the woman. Even in just this first meeting, she had been helping him. Giving information freely, unlike Dumbledore, when she thought he needed it and challenging him to broaden his horizon. Getting him to work out new angles he would need to remember to consider going forward.

"You are an interesting young man… Did your elf tell you what happened with the Malfoys when they came here?"

Harry shook his head. He was very intrigued. Just the tone of the comment made him think of the twins telling him embarrassing stories of a younger Percy.

"I will tell you and you shan't repeat it. I do not need to make an enemy where one does not exist." She paused until he acknowledged her words. "Let me first explain further about the Lacroix Ballet Academy. We are the school for wizarding children to learn ballet. We put on very small scale productions that cater to the creme de la creme of the magical world. You are competing against Fleur Delacour. What do you know of the Delacour's?"

He grinned at her knowing the question was rhetorical. He answered anyway. "They have a beautiful daughter named Fleur?"

She shook her head in minor mirth and continued on. "They are the kind of patrons that have funded this academy. The wizarding world does not have titled nobility. Many would consider the Delacour family French nobility. Economically and politically they are about as powerful and influential as you can get. They have a long and distinguished family history. They are well respected throughout France and far beyond its borders. They are one of the families that support this academy and they are not the richest or nor most connected out of our benefactors."

"You see, I was surprised by your letter because it is known that we do not teach just anyone. The ballet student openings that come available every year are highly sought after. One manner we give back to our financers is to give them the first opportunity to claim a spot in our academy. Right now, Gabrielle Delacour is one of my top young ballet students, much like Fleur was for a time."

"Some of our benefactors' children have no interest in the fine art of ballet. The second way we provide value to them is that we will privately tutor the heirs in the traditional dances found at events like the Yule Ball. Most wizarding children are taught to dance by their parents and are merely taught to do so passably. It is not vain boasting when I say my former pupils are the best non-professional dancers anytime they are on the dance floor at such events."

Lacroix stopped talking. She slipped out her wand and conjured two glasses. Harry had seen others conjure glasses before but these were chalices. She continued and filled both ornate chalices that bore the crest of the academy on them. She was able to fill them with crystal clear water cold water. She daintily drank some before continuing. Harry carefully attempted to copy her actions.

"This Academy does not have more than one benefactor in each country. First of all, we are not seeking new donations and have had the same supporting families in place for centuries. The Malfoy family wished to become supporters; you see, Narcissa was born a Black and the Black family is the only English family that is a patron. She wished to use that connection to supplant the Black family with the Malfoy family. Our policy has never been to allow more than one family from each country. There is too great a risk of them clashing either economically or politically."

"Regardless, Narcissa Malfoy brought her son to meet me and request the patron's training and naturally a generous contribution was even mentioned." She mused the last part aloud like it was rather amusing to recall.

What did this all mean? She couldn't tutor him because he's not a Black? What was all this building up to?

"Do you know who the heir of the Black family is?"

Harry felt her stare on him as he fidgeted with his glass in nervousness. He debated on whether he should he bring up his godfather or play dumb? It was probably too late for the latter; Lacroix was perceptive and if he didn't know he'd have responded already.

"Sirius Black."

Just because he was boxed into answering the question didn't mean he had to give up all of his information.

"Interesting" she gazed at him with intelligent eyes.

She sipped at her water again. Her eyes never stopped appraising him.

"The Black family does not, currently, have a Head of house. You see, part of the contract for supporting the academy allows me to find out who their legally acknowledged heirs and members of their family are. In England, the power of the Black family, both financial and particularly politically, has waned. The Malfoy's have used Narcissa, the only son or daughter born of House Black that was not incarcerated, to usurp their political power after Arcturus Black died. The sole surviving member of the main line of the family is Sirius and it is well known he was disinherited from the family before he was imprisoned."

She watched him closely to see if he would comment. Harry had no intention to at this time.

"I find your answer interesting because I had to go to Gringotts to find out Sirius was the heir. Something you already knew… I was more intrigued to find out there was one other member of House Black, though they are not eligible for headship. Do you know who it is?"

Harry didn't. He felt his guess was wrong but he made it anyways it seemed the obvious answer. "Draco Malfoy?"

"It is not he." She looked disappointed with his answer. "His mother was a Black but he is only a Malfoy. He could have been if he had been acknowledged as a son of House Black. No other ideas?"

He tried to remember anything that Sirius had told him. Didn't he mention he only had one other family member that he liked? He thought she was disowned but Sirius also thought he was disinherited when he now knew he wasn't. "Would it be his cousin Andromeda?"

Harry knew she knew the answer. Madame Lacroix was taking forever to get there. Why?

"The second member, and only other member of House Black, is Sirius Black's legal heir."

Harry waited, he didn't have any other guesses. Who was Sirius' heir? Did Sirius's cousin have children?

She drew out the moment and watched him before finally answering, "The second member is you."

"Me? You're sure?" he managed to croak out in utter surprise.

"It is, after all, why you are here talking with me today," Madame Lacroix informed him bluntly.

"You see" she continued on "I was surprised to receive your letter. It is well known that we would never consider providing the service you requested, to any member of the public. Once I got over my surprise, I assumed you were a Black somehow and researched how you could be connected to the Black family. I didn't even consider, for a single second, that you were ignorant of this information."

Harry didn't know what to say. It was embarrassing and explained some of her actions much better now. Why she kept watching him so closely. She must have thought he was feigning ignorance the whole time.

"I had to dig into our records here to find how you were blood-related to the Blacks; it took some effort to sort out. It has been many years since a Black has graced these halls. In the end, I found what I was looking for. Dorea Potter was a Black, the sister of Arcturus Black the last head of the family. Arcturus acknowledged his grand-nephew's blood relation, shortly after your birth, making you a member of House Black."

 

 

Twenty-five targets from forty paces. Not quite as hard as it was at first. Harry kept firing piercing hex after piercing hex. Every single spell cast with minimal movement and at a rapid rate in total silence. Today was the 7th day of the week, November 28th, and it was another ritual day. it was his eighth ritual overall. The seventh and final one for improvement of his mind.

Dobby had been instrumental for his ritual needs. Most of the items were common wizarding reagents. The crucial part which Dobby played so well, was his ability to purchase everything Harry needed. One of his tasks at the Malfoy home was to keep all their stores fully stocked at all times. He was an expert and Harry no longer needed to advise him on making sure he had the ingredients purchased in time. In fact, the little elf helped remind him to make sure he was making potions and preparing ingredients ahead of time.

Today was his third full week in the Chamber of Secrets and it already felt like it had been far longer. The days, aside from the First Task, were blurring together. He only knew what day of the week it was because of the numerical value of the day. That little ritual journal always had him focusing ahead of time. Harry walked out of his training area towards the study. He would be taking his second meal of the day in there again. He'd taken care of the ritual prior to his magical exercises. The mind rituals always left him a little fuzzy in the head. Monotonously casting piercing hexes took no brain usage. He would now just have to worry that he might actually cast them in his sleep!

He had nobody to chat with, as he ate, so he may as well read. His magical education was moving faster than he thought possible. His confidence was growing along with his magical abilities.

Harry moved into the room and felt a sense of foreboding. There was a predator in the room preparing to strike. A true alpha predator with impregnable scales, unbreakable claws, powerful jaw, and who as black as the night. His study had no natural light and it was a perfect place for the predator to ambush the wizard. Harry quickly cast the three charms the charm he could do without thought. Two cleaning charms, one for him and one for his clothes, and his most oft cast spell. He'd had to cast the bloody charm on everything. Anything he missed charming was inevitably lit on fire.

Harry knew this was coming because he'd kept the little blighter, knew it was about time for her prey to arrive. Harry sat down at his desk and tried to concentrate on his surroundings. The apex predator had always been so sure of itself; it had never developed any kind of evolutionary need for stealth. They were massively powerful creatures that were so well naturally defended stealth wouldn't benefit their defences. Further, their massive size made stealth pretty well impossible. They were the top of their food chain and their ability to fly made them highly mobile predators that used overwhelming force to hunt their prey. Harry heard it before he saw it. Behind him and to the right he heard the scraping of claws on the wooden bookshelf as the beast flew off its perched hiding place.

Harry drew his wand and fire a gust of freezing cold wind towards the apex predator. His spell struck too quickly and had too large of an area of effect for the beast to dodge. It tried to power through, by opening its jaw and releasing a torrent of fire from between its razor-sharp teeth. Harry watched in amusement as the freezing cold air met the fire and the two polar opposites cancelled each other out.

The powerful creature continued on relentlessly. It did not give in at the first sign of potential failure. It dove and dropped its altitude, as quickly as it could, barreling towards its chosen target. Harry watched still in awe with the creature. The black beast broke from its dive and powerful wings slowed its descent. As it reached down with its hind legs, it whirled around the large mammals head. Its strong legs took the impact landing on Harry's right shoulder.

"Ow, you bloody menace." The little dragon had whipped its tail around and struck the back of his neck with it. "You're a Merlin forsaken Horntail . Watch where you put that thing!" Harry playfully glared at the actual miniature dragon. Though the tail had caused a brief sharp pain, Harry wasn't actually upset at all, more amused than anything.

It was still surreal that he had a miniature dragon. A real live fire breathing brat. Anytime the little blighter was upset, it breathed fire and tried to burn things. Harry had adapted quickly by putting a flame retardant charm on literally everything. He'd been studying the book he had ordered through Hedwig on basic wards. It would be nice to have a fire suppression ward of some kind active. As of yet, he had found none.

The most convenient thing about having a tamed mini-dragon was free access to dragon blood. It was, after all, how he had realized he had a real live dragon staying with him in the chamber. Once his first counterspell failed Harry had blasted it with a half dozen more before admitting defeat. He'd just learned the part of a dragon's anatomy where it was best to draw blood. There were overlapping scales near where its leg met its body. When the leg was stretched out, in just the right way, there were small gaps between its scales.

He'd cut the little guy in a gap and when the replica dragon dripped blood on to the knife Harry knew something was wrong. Transfigurations of animals did not contain blood. He knew it was not possible and yet it apparently was. Harry had laughed himself silly. Salazar had commented there are no hard and fast rules of magic, just guidelines. Magic is sentient and Harry knew anomalies could happen. For a child that survived the 'unsurvivable' curse and who apparently had no discernable soul under an invisibility cloak, why wouldn't another rule of magic break around him? They say seeing is believing and the day he realized the little dragon was real, he no longer believed that phrase held water.

Harry reached up and strokes his hand, very carefully as he had learned the hard way, along the little dragon's head. The horntail was all black with a bronze sheen to its spikes and horns. "Well good morning to you too, lazybones." He could sense the dragon's irritation being called that. The tiny thing clutched onto his shoulder and his neck when he positioned himself on his chair to accommodate the tiny dragon better.

He felt the magical creature settle down on his shoulder. It was perched and waiting for Dobby. It was only a couple days now but there was already a set routine. The dragon woke for a second breakfast each day. It was too lazy to get up for the first breakfast. It preferred larger less frequent meals. Harry considered if it was more active like he was, if it would eat more regularly. Not that it really made any difference to him. Harry's second meal appeared on his desk, with utensils and a beverage, and with a second plate of raw meat beside it.

Harry enjoyed seeing the little dragon's eating habits. The black dragon swooped off his shoulder, taking to the air, and circled its prey. She hunted her prey, the prey being cut up raw meat… The dragon pulled up, mid-flight, with powerful, albeit tiny, flaps of its wings. Hovering, it spewed forth a deadly stream of dragon fire, deadly to things that didn't have flame freezing charms anyways. The fire seared the meat and the tiny magical creature flew down and began devouring its generous meal.

Harry turned back to his meal. He roved his eyes across the room looking for any sign of new information becoming available. He spied it, a soft blue glue on a book far out of his reach. Harry quickly summoned it directly to his hand and opened it up.

Duelling strategy, between wizards, has two paths. The first fork is where almost all wizards and witches travel. The second path very few are capable or willing to tread. The prevalent option is where my heirs will begin. This style of duelling consists of casting spells back and forth with attacks consisting of spellcasting. Top duelists are physically fit enough to dodge spells with ease. Often duels are decided by casting speed, power, spell selection, and physical fitness. Trading spells back and forth while dodging any that can be physically avoided.

The wizard's normal goal is to subdue their opponent. Overwhelming them with offensive assault is the preeminent strategy. What form the assault takes, how you plan to overwhelm your opponent, opens up a whole subset of strategy. Here I am discussing the basic, overarching, form of duelling. You will have already begun the training without being explicitly aware.

Physical fitness is important to witches and wizards regardless of what any of them believe. The naysayers will rightly point out magic does work to keep our bodies hale and hearty. They are fools who wish for excuses to be sloths, to lack discipline. To keep your body healthy it must use the very magic you rely on for combat. You would not allow a bucket with a hole in it to be used to move water even when doing so will still provide to your needs sufficiently. It is blatantly, and foolishly, wasteful! Take care of your own fitness and you will be wholly better for it. Currently, you are mentally training your work ethic. Physically, you are improving your body and by doing so, reducing the drain on your magic.

You, my heir, will already be working out physically, each morning, followed up with a magical workout. Each day you are building habits that will make you successful. Do you think Godric became such a feared warrior by feasting, drinking, and whoring? The man is boastful, brash, and far too gregarious! Yet, he has earned the right to be so. He dedicated himself, for countless hours over many years, to become a ferocious fighter. He is the single best duelist I have ever seen.

Godric is more talented in magic and more powerful than most anyone he encounters. Those two traits only afforded him the opportunity to become the man he is today. It was his sheer dedication to his craft, his single-minded pursuit of becoming the best, that has allowed him to reach the very pinnacle of his art. Even I would dare not fight him in fair and open duelling combat single-handedly. The speed and grace of his movements make his physical prowess unmatched. His attacks are devastating fast and they are bone shattering in strength. When he combines his swordplay with his wand, he is a true terror. His wand and his sword are extensions of his body, perfectly in tune with him, and delightfully destructive to denizens.

Where Godric has mastered the first path I have done so with the second. The term I prefer is that of a mage. Where I cannot match Godric in duelling, my abilities as a mage surpass him. He can cast with as much speed, power, and precision as he wishes and it will not matter when I conjure my mage shield. His attacks will break like water rolling over rock. Mages use overwhelmingly powerful magic. It is like comparing a lion to a gryphon. Where one is the king of the jungle a gryphon transcends the capabilities of a lion.

Mages fight on a different plane of magic than that of a duelist. To become a mage is to master magic. There is a very select group that has ever achieved the status and most are known by another term. Most oft mages are called lords, specifically Dark Lords. I must be perfectly precise here: mages are not dark lords. Dark lords are mages. If thou believes the former thou hast become a fool and are not worthy of being my heir. Learn from me, listen to my hard-earned wisdom, and thou will be great. Strong and wise beyond your years.

The majority of mages do become Dark Lords and there are numerous reasons for it. I shall name but a few. The dedication required to become a mage is unnatural for most wizards and witches. Whom among your peers is willing to dedicate their formative years to mastering magic. Spending unending hours studying theory, practising magic, and pushing themselves beyond what they would normally do. It takes incredible dedication to put in the work necessary to be skilled and knowledgeable enough in magic to become a mage. Sadly one of the greatest drivers is often revenge or for in pursuit of power over others.

There are further societal factors as well. When one achieves such greatness, jealousy abounds. The commoner cannot handle your prowess and even though they would never be willing to put forth the effort to match you. They turn on you and demand you are controlled and neutered of your hard-earned abilities. Politicians fear you and actively work against you. When you stand up for yourself and fight back they shame you. You're so much greater, why would lord it over us? When one is attacked first, the mage can use but the flick of a finger and end their pathetic lives when angered.

Society drives mages into becoming dark lords. There exist but a handful of mages that would ever be considered something of a Light Lord. Merlin being the greatest among them. Myself, I have been called a Dark Lord. I do not wish to rule over the rabble, I do not kill without reason, and I am not a power-crazed individual. If I used my capabilities as a mage I could destroy my fellow founders and take control of this school. Instead, I have retired to my chamber. I could have previously orchestrated a coup to take sole possession of this school.

The four are my friends, I have killed for them, I have loved them, and I will always continue to do both while I draw breath.

Harry broke off his reading as he felt the presence of his dragon burrowing into his lap again. Harry looked down at the horntail in his lap. Anytime he was seated or lying down it was around him wanting to cuddle up on him. It led to the unfortunate unofficial naming of the dragon. Harry kept commenting how much it liked to cuddle. How cuddly she was. How she was a cuddle monster and with all of those vocal comments, somehow, the dragon began acknowledging him when he called it 'cuddles'. He smiled down fondly as the dragon made a low rumbling noise due to his ministrations.