Brave New World

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Chapter Eleven



By Wednesday, Harry was no closer to accepting the newest changes in his life than before. It was difficult feeling as though he couldn’t trust the things in his life he had counted on before. There were so many things he took for granted and now it seemed as though the rose colored glasses were gone and everything was harsh and unfamiliar.



The beauty of the Wizarding world had given way. Dumbledore’s worries were well founded. Though Harry had to wonder if it had been a self fulfilling prophecy, as the elder wizard played a large role in Harry’s loss of innocence. It wasn’t all Voldemort and the Daily Prophet.



These were his thoughts when Professor Vector walked into the classroom late that afternoon instead of Leo. She wore her usual attire, long slinky and velvet, though this time her tall graceful figure was covered in a deep emerald. Around her narrow waist was a golden metal belt that only emphasized her shapely figure and as she slipped her teaching robes off to lay across a chair, he noted the sleeves of her gown belled at the wrists almost covering her hands. Wild curls were pinned atop her head and her eyes were still smoky and mysterious.



One thing he had noticed about the Professor, she wasn’t caught up in the propaganda surrounding his reputation. She treated him much like a kid brother, asking if he was eating his meals, how his classes were coming along, was he resting properly. It was different from Mrs. Weasley, because he couldn’t imagine, Ron’s mother ruffling his hair or demanding he call Mrs. Weasley by her first name. And nothing like Hermione’s protective nature either.



The first time she flicked his forehead because he forgot to call her by her first name, he sat in shock for at least ten minutes. It was such a careless gesture. Not even Ron or Hermione treated him that way, always staying a reserved distance away, though Hermione had eventually given over to those rib crushing hugs of hers. Harry could count on his hand the number of people who didn’t treat him with awe, polite indifference, or out right hatred.



“Good Afternoon Harry, you’re looking,” she paused then gave him a thorough once over, “You’re looking somewhat horrid actually? Is everything alright?”



“It’s been a long few days,” he admitted, though he it was always nice to see the Professor because she usually had a smile and some great new theory about magic to explore, he had been looking forward to the physical workout with Leo this class period.



As a result of his month of detentions, Leo was working him at an insane pace. The better to learn to control his temper, Harry was told, and so far he was doing a better job of thinking before speaking. Their lessons had become a study in the human body’s capacity to endure.



After many intense grueling sessions, Harry had finally mastered how to throw a punch properly, as well as block the powerful blows Leo aimed in his direction. Incorporating his legs and feet in defensive as well as offensive moves hadn’t been as easy to master, though Harry felt as though his muscles were finally remembering the proper movements. He was no where near Leo’s level but confident enough that wouldn’t have his arse completely handed to him in a physical fight.



Next week they would move on to throws, something Harry wasn’t looking forward to. Leo said this aspect of fight was extremely important, that Harry needed to learn not only to fall properly but to force his body back to a standing position in a variety of different ways. Advanced agility training, Leo called it. Potter Arse-kicking and Torture part two, was Harry’s stance.



As far as his spell work was concerned, Harry was comfortable with his thirteen chosen spells. They left him exhausted after long duels but he no longer had to think before casting them. Now they were working on silent casting and he could already cast two of his offensive spells and three of his defensive.



Strangely enough, Leo had been in favor of using the serpensortia spell as he planned to teach Harry how to use transfiguration techniques while dueling. He explained his reasoning by saying if Harry cast the snake summoning curse as a defensive measure, any of the reptiles could be transfigured into both inanimate and animate objects to use against an opponent. The parseltongue was also a nice bonus as any weapon in a fight was a good weapon as long as it couldn’t be used against him. Since he and Voldemort were the only two known parselmouths, everyone else was fair game.



“Well, I think I’ve found a solution to your Occlumency difficulties.” She set down the large box she was carrying on the table, removing the lid and then the contents. Next she unrolled several feet of parchment and grabbed a piece of chalk to start writing on the black board.



After his refusal to continue lessons with Snape, Dumbledore had approached Professor Vector for a less traditional approach to solving the issue of Voldemort and his nightmares. She had looked upon it as a challenge, her enthusiasm a much better response than Snape’s nasty attitude. She had informed him on Monday of her quest and he was surprised she returned with an answer so soon.



He closed the journal Leo gave him, setting it on the table as well, and had to grin. “That’s the best news I’ve had in days.” He might not be able to wrap his mind around this Lord business but getting Voldemort out of his head was even better.



“I know we haven’t had much time together Harry and I feel I must apologize for my absences. I’ve given you a great deal of research and information but I haven’t spent much time helping you to understand it.”



So far Leo had occupied most of the private instruction scheduled but he didn’t mind, the physical work was more his forte anyway, though learning about the runes and rituals they were used for was interesting.



“You have classes, Professor Vector, I understand.”



The second the words left his mouth, Harry grimaced at the mistake. She turned from her work with a sly smirk. Without a word, she reached over and flicked him in the forehead lightly making them both chuckle.



“I know it’s a change,” she began in a husky voice filled with amusement. “Calling your instructor by her first name but I like to believe we’re working as peers here Harry. You’re certainly attempting to accomplish something I never could be capable of. You’re more than welcome to call me Septima, as I believe I’ve said before. I don’t want to simply give you information; I want our time together to be a process of active learning, not only for yourself but for me as well.”



“Alright,” he agreed, though it would be difficult not to call her Professor, as every time he did, a voice that sounded very similar to Hermione seemed to screech in horror.



She set the chalk down and sat on the edge of the table, giving him her full attention. “First, however, is there anything I can help you with? As I said, you look troubled.”



Harry found he wanted a fresh perspective, from someone who had not been involved in his life for the past five years. Blaise would have been preferable, as this had all started with a conversation with the Slytherin but Septima had been nothing but kind to him and had no real hidden agenda that he could see.



“I was wondering what you knew about Ancient and Noble Houses.”



A perfectly arched brow lifted in response, “So, the Lord Potter is finally acknowledging his birthright?”



There was no mistaking the criticism in her voice and it made him cringe. “I didn’t know,” he murmured but even to his ears the excuse sounded feeble.



“What do you mean you didn’t know? The Potters have been an integral part of the Wizarding world for centuries. Your family is apart of the original thirteen, did you think your importance to the Wizarding world was merely because of what happened to you all those years ago on Halloween?”



Actually, he had, with the Boy-who-lived rubbish he had to endure. She stared at him so long, he thought perhaps she would retract her offer of friendship she was so disgusted with him. What she said next was surprising.



“You truly didn’t know, did you?” A slender hand began gesturing as she spoke, “All this time, you have had no idea. I feel as though I should apologize for having played even an unacknowledged role in this travesty.”



“To be fair, I think everyone was like you.” He shrugged lightly, “They believed that someone had already told me.”



“I thought perhaps it was a phase you were going through, you know. Muggle teenaged rebellion, such rot.” She explained her face a study of guilt. “Unfortunately, there isn’t much I am able to tell you about Ancient and Noble Houses. I know a great deal about the Potter family’s accomplishments however. Your family was critical in the passing of several laws regarding potion ingredients and the collection of them from magical creatures. Considering the close business ties the Potter and Davis families have, that’s not surprising.”



“Davis? As in Tracey Davis?”



“Why yes. Her family is the forerunner in that field.” She paused and bit her lower lip, thinking. “There have also been two Ministers of magic from your family.”



“Two?”



“Yes but that was many years ago. When several of the thirteen Houses started practicing dark magic and influencing the Wizengamot’s laws concerning muggle-borns, the Potters began focusing on legislation and as a result became very influential voices in society.”



“Why don’ they teach this in History of Magic, instead of going on about goblin wars?”



“Frankly because this is common knowledge in most households. Its easy to forget the muggle-borns aren’t raised with this knowledge, and so many of our traditions are lost as more are making their way into the Wizarding world. Then the pureblood families use this as an excuse to try to forbid their entry into our world but it was these same purebloods that make it so difficult for muggle-borns to gain access to this knowledge.”



“It’s a vicious circle.”



“That it is, and even with half-bloods and other pure bloods that support muggle-borns, it’s a struggle because pure bloods are usually among the wealthy and privileged in our world with the connections and resources to promote their agenda.”



“My family helped prevent a lot of the prejudice against muggle-borns, didn’t they?” He was beginning to understand why she had sounded so disappointed in him. But wasn’t fighting Voldemort enough? How much more would he have to give to the Wizarding world?



Except that was a child’s thinking, he realized with a heavy heart. Those who were born to power and influence had an obligation to those without. How could he look at Hermione again, when his very inaction could resort in some law being voted in to hurt her? As much as he wanted to shy away from the public attention, he was in a position to make changes.



“Is this a part of growing up?”



“Yes, Harry, it is. You’ve been dealt a grave disservice. But if you would allow me, I’d like to help you. After this war, and the Divine willing, there will be an after this war for us all, you will need to be prepared to take your place in our society to make a difference. In the meantime,” she tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and smiled, “Your Occlumency.”



“Getting Voldemort out of my head,” he nodded in agreement. “So what did you have in mind?



“Can you tell me the four perfect numbers and what each denotes?”



Numbers? He had been studying runes, how was he to know this and he hadn’t studied Arithmancy? “I don’t know.”



“That’s an easy answer. I want you to actually think about it before answering this time.”



She looked at him with such expectation; he really didn’t want to let her down. “Um, I think seven is one.”



“That’s a big one too Harry. Even muggles understand some of the power of the number seven, though it is often ignored as superstition. Can you think of another?”



“I don’t,” he stopped when a memory flickered briefly along the edges of his consciousness. It was very old, something that managed to remain there regardless of the years that had passed. Three, it’s the magic number. Yes it is. The number three. A woman’s voice sang the simple melody, probably his initial school years. The memory left a warm pleasant feeling in his stomach, one of few he had from early childhood at the Dursleys. At school he was safe for a while. He was Harry, not freak or boy.



“Three?” He offered tentatively.



“Very good. The other two are a bit more difficult for those who haven’t studied numerology. The four perfect numbers in magic are three which denotes divine perfection, seven denoting spiritual perfection. Then there is ten, ordinal perfection and twelve for governmental perfection. Are you with me so far?”



“I think so.”



“When I was searching through an Old Norse runes tome, looking for a ritual to help you, I kept running across the number three in its many different variations and forms. Now I’m not a seer but usually when something like that happens it’s for a reason.”



“And what did you come up with?”



“These attack you suffer, you’re not just affected mentally, correct?”



Harry took a moment and thought about what she was asking, recalling the details from this last attack and how he felt afterwards. His body had ached for a long while, just as if the cruciatus curse Voldemort cast was on him and not the stupid Death Eater he eventually killed. The curse scar on his forehead had split open, covering him with blood. His magic had felt tainted. Dirty.



So he tried to explain all of these things to her and with each word she nodded eagerly, and smiled as if he were confirming something she had already figured out.



“Three is a very special number Harry. Not just in magical culture but in so many others across the world. Its roots stem from the meaning of multiplicity. Its creative power is growth. Three is a moving forward of energy, overcoming duality, expression, manifestation and synthesis. Three is the first number to which the meaning "all" was given. It is The Triad, being the number of the whole as it contains the beginning, a middle and an end.”



“I think I understand all of that,” which was something because this type of stuff was clearly in Hermione’s domain. Maybe this is what Leo meant when he said he would have to learn to do things on his own. It was good to have Hermione there at his side, but there were times he would have to figure things out on his own. This definitely was one of them.



“So would you agree given everything you’ve told me, these invasions affect you mentally, physically as well as your spirit, if you believe your magic to be a connection to your spirit?”



“Yes.” It certainly fit. That was three things right there.



“There is a symbol which represents this relationship.” She turned stood lifting her chalk and drawing on the board. “Have you ever seen one of these before?”



“No. It looks like a three sided triangle.”



“Good,” her smile brightened. “For that’s exactly what it is, really, an interlaced three-cornered shape. Triquetra. Each corner representing the body, the mind and the spirit.”



“But what does this have to do with Occlumency.”



“I want to perform a ritual from the old ways, Harry, using Norse runes and this triquetra as a foundation along with a healing spell to help prevent you know who from penetrating your mind. Each step is based in the number 3. Three runes, three healing herbs and the triquetra, denoting divine perfection in a ritual asking the Divine for protection.”



“I’m lost now. I didn’t know you followed the old ways.” He had read those words in the Curious Half-blood, the old traditions of magic he had begun exploring. He didn’t know any of the Professors of Hogwarts practiced them as well.



“I may be a half-blood but my parents still believe strongly in the old ways Harry. Thus my love for Ancient Runes. They are the building blocks to many of our rituals. Now with Norse runes there is a unique order of the fuþark, the Norse runic alphabet, and its traditional division into three \'aetts\' or it’s \'families\' or \'groups. This is why I chose them.”



“Three.”



“Exactly. Now traditional Rune spells and rituals were cut into wood, bone or stone to create a talisman. In your case, that wouldn’t be very effective.”



“You want to cut the runes into me?” At his whispered guess, her expression grew stilled and serious. “Wouldn’t that be considered blood magic? Dark magic?”



“This wouldn’t be considered blood magic as the blood involved is negligible. There is just enough blood to tie your magic into the runes themselves. But you should know, not all blood magic is Dark, Harry. There are many old rituals and spells whose roots start with blood.”



‘Blood of the enemy.’ Unfortunately, all he could hear were Wormtail’s words in the graveyard. Images of Cedric dead, with him bound to a crypt and that disgusting thing Voldemort had been before his rebirth flickered before his eyes.



“Harry. Harry, can you hear me?”



He jerked violently when hands closed gently on his arms, forcing his mind back into the present. He was shaking and hadn’t even noticed.



“I won’t-”



“Harry look at me.” She insisted.



“No, no I won’t.”



“Harry!” She shook him hard, and his eyes jerked up to meet her intense ones. “Harry do you trust me not to hurt you.”



He wanted to laugh at that. Trust? Trust, when at one point or other everyone he trusted either betrayed him or let him down. Trust was a rare commodity for Harry Potter.



“No I suppose not,” she sighed and he thought he heard sadness there but was still too caught up in old memories to focus clearly. Septima released his arms and took three steps backward before raising her arm. He was rolling off his chair to the floor backing away before she could speak.



She moved faster than he expected, kneeling down before him and grasping his hand tightly in her own. At the first tap of her wand against their joined hands, a thin ribbon of red flame flowed from her wand and wrapped around their hands.



“What are you doing?”



“I Septima Helena Vector, do hereby swear upon my life and my magic, no maliciously intended harm shall come from my person to Harry Potter” A red flash of light, confirming the vow, swirled around them, then their hands before sealing into their skin. “I swear upon my life and magic to do everything within my power to help him succeed in his quest to rid the Wizarding world of Voldemort.” She almost choked on the name but it halted the wild panic swirling in his chest. Another band of magic sealed her words. “I swear upon my life and magic to keep the things Harry Potter tells me in confidence until the time he gives me permission to speak of it to others.”



The thrice born vow flashed brightly, building in power. “My intent I declare before the Divine, let me be judged rightfully if my fidelity is broken. Upon my life, upon my magic, as I will it, so mote it be.” The waves of magic burned crimson then a bright golden to pure white before dividing and slipping into both their chests.



Just as quickly the moment was over and she stood pulling him carefully to his feet as well.



“Why would you do such a thing?”



“To prove I can be trusted,” she smiled softly before taking the same hand that had gripped his so strongly during the vow and caressing his cheek softly. “For truly what harm shall be done if I prove to be honorable. What have I promised, Harry? To never hurt you intentionally, for if we perform this ritual there will be some pain involved but I won’t enjoy your pain. To help you fight Voldemort? I do that each time we meet and I’ll continue to do so until you no longer need my help. And to keep your confidence? Is that really so difficult a thing to do?”



“But you swore on your life! On your magic! I know what happens when those kinds of vows are broken!”



“If it helps you to trust me Harry, then it’s worth it. You’re worth it Harry.”



He took a deep breath, so far this school year the steps he had taken out on faith had brought more good than ill. So if Septima was willing to make an Unbreakable Vow then he was willing to step out one more time.



“What do we have to do for the ritual?”





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“Now are you ready?”



Harry kneeled in the center of a circle grounded with salt with the purest of white candles inside the circle; one to the north of him, one to the south, the east and west each lit with bluebell flames. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he tried for a smile but was too full of nerves. They had gone over the information until he understood all of it and the ritual itself several times before she suggested they begin.



Septima had asked him to remove the t-shirt he wore as well as his socks and trainers and he was feeling exposed with his chest bared and the different scars he had gained over the years showing. He glanced again at the diagram of the triquetra on the chalkboard they would be using during the ritual. Within each section of the triquetra a rune would be inscribed with a circle flowing through the loops to unify the runes. It wasn’t very complex, to which she had replied sometimes the simple things were the best.



“Now, you remember the runes we chose for you?”



“Representing the mind, we decided on purisaz of the first aett, its divinatory purpose is for discipline, knowledge, introspection, focus. Its magical purposes is to aid in study and meditation and self-discipline. It is to help me understand that there will be obstacles placed in my path but they are to strengthen and teach me.”



“Good,” she nodded, stirring in large pewter bowl. She poured the thick mixture into a smaller golden bowl and passed it to him inside the circle. He placed the bowl on the floor in front of him. “And for the body?”



“Algiz of the second aett. It is a protection rune. And for Spirit, laguz from the third aett.”



“Yes, the water rune. And what’s so significant about this one?”



“Its divination purposes are discipline, knowledge, introspection, focus and magical properties are enhancing psychic abilities, confronting fears, stabilizing mental or emotional disorders. I still think we should go with some of the other runes like teiwaz, for the warrior path. These seem a little, I don’t know.”



“What not manly enough for you Harry? You thought we were going to cover you with runes that would make you big and strong” Her gentle laughter rippled through the air, warm and rich, and completely at his expense. “Our purpose is not for attack here. We’re trying to defend your mind. To protect and fortify it against violation. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to discover rune ceremonies for warriors. Small steps, Harry.”



Alright, so when she put it that way it did sound like he was getting ahead of himself. He could always learn more like she said. This type of magic could be a big advantage when fighting Voldemort.



“For ink to draw the runes, we’ll be using a mixture of arnica for the body, fluxweed for the mind and rose petals for the spirit crushed in witch hazel extract and rosehips oil. Now you’re sure you understand everything?”



“I’m ready whenever you are.”



Septima nodded once, moving toward the circle, wand in hand. She took a deep breath, raising her hands and Harry could feel the air around him grow warm with magic. It was rich and seductive filling him with a heady excitement that bordered on arousal. He closed his eyes taking a deep breath and could almost smell fire building. In his mind the image of Blaise shone unsteadily, before fading as he was reminded so strongly of the Slytherin. Unsettled his eyes opened. Then the circle of salt around him caught flame.



“What was that?”



A flash of humor crossed her face, her laughter low and throaty. “Oh Lord Potter, the things you have to learn. It shall be a joy to teach you. That is my magic and it seems yours compliments it well. I would say you resonate with air as my magic is of fire.”



“Oh,” he didn’t follow but knew she would tell him more. And hopefully he would understand why it brought Blaise Zabini to his mind.



“Now be silent so I may finish.” Again she took a breath before beginning the chant. “An endless circle and eternal knot, the circle of life, the path that comes back to its own beginning. Divine, we beseech you.”



A thin trail of the mixture flowed upward from the bowl into the air and Harry bowed low to the floor knowing the path it would seek. Septima would direct the dark red ink to the back of his neck where the runic pattern would be literally tattooed into his skin. As the formation of the triquetra began, it burned like the fire ignited around him, so much that he had to bite his lip to hold back the gasp of pain.



“Wings of healing, wise and strong. Home to his mind, Protection he seeks.” This would begin the rune for his mind. He could feel his magic stirring, tying itself into the patterns being drawn on his skin.



“Flame of Healing, nourishing his temple. Power his belonging, make him strong.”



This time the fiery streak of pain brought a choked cry forth from his lips before he could stop it. His hands gripped at his pant legs remaining as still as possible so that as the rune for his body could finish.



“Waves of Healing, home to truth. Cradle him to silence, purify his spirit.”



The next part would be the most difficult. Harry dragged in a deep breath feeling her magic and his crest in the air around them. It felt wild and hungry. Joyful and insistent. It was beautiful despite its pain.



“Rhythm of his heartbeat, still his pain. Home to his bones, make him whole again.” And he could feel each agonizing inch of the circle unifying the magic of the rituals. “Endless light of the Divine, grant this boon. Heal his mind. Heal his body. Heal his soul. As we will it, so mote it be.”





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FSFSFS



Septima would tell him later it was the most powerful ritual she had ever witnessed. His magic had literally risen up in a whirlwind of energy jerking him from his knees to hover several inches in the air. His eyes had shone a brilliant emerald as he screamed, magic sparking and dancing around him. Then it slammed back into his body rendering him unconscious until long after the dinner hour.



“I had Professor Dumbledore excuse your detention for the night,” she told him as she watched him pull his t-shirt over his head. “You won’t have to make it up; I explained what we were doing here and how it affected your magic. How are you feeling?”



“I feel good.” And he did, though he had been expecting to feel drained instead of so rejuvenated. Pain lingered in the markings on the back of his neck but he couldn’t wait to rush back to the dorms to see how it looked. “I think it worked, Septima. My mind feels so clear.”



“What about the connection?”



“I can tell it’s still there but it’s more like knowing my heart beats or the blood flows through my veins. Do you see what I mean?”



“We’ll have to see how it affects your magic tomorrow in class but for tonight, I’ll have one of the house elves bring you something to eat from the kitchen and I want you to go straight back to the Gryffindor dorms to get some rest Harry. You probably feel amazing right now, that’s the excess magic from the ritual. I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”



“Alright Septima, good night.”