Situational Ethics

Situational Ethics

By Mizzfreestyle

Edited by Missy Padfoot

And

Effie-Chan

A/N: It's my birthday, and as my gift to you, I updated.

Posted on August 19, 2008

Chapter 24:

"Sticks and Stones"

"Harry, it's time to go," said a soft voice from the doorway.

Harry had been standing against the crib, holding his son in his arms as if these were their last few moments together. He didn't want to release his son. Harry didn’t want to step back. Harry cradled the little head against his cheek, humming softly while trying to will his tears away. Erasmus was asleep again having just been fed. He had no idea that his father was just about to part from him for a good while.

At Harry's side stood Kreacher, holding onto Harry's pants and looking up. "Master must go. Kreacher is taking care of young Master now."

Harry sharply inhaled, clenched his eyes tight, and bit down hard on his lips. Leaving his son behind pained him greatly but Harry knew what he had to do. He did not want to leave his son’s side, but he had no choice. Harry Potter, the Golden Boy, had a duty to fulfil.

"Harry, please. You will see him soon." Remus looked down at his watch impatiently. There was no time to waste. The Portkey wouldn't wait for them.

At last Harry set his son back into the crib, then tucked him in one last time. He needlessly smoothed the edges and wrinkles in order to buy some time before fluffing the pillow behind Erasmus' head.

Before Harry could search for another error Remus called to him. "Harry, we have ten minutes. We must go."

"I love you, Erasmus. My little boy," Harry slowly backed away from the crib, convinced that as soon as he looked away, the crib and his son would vanish.

Once Harry was just a little ways from the threshold, Remus coiled his arm around Harry's and dragged him from the room. "Kreacher is here. He won't let anything happen to Eras."

"Please, take care of Eras!" Harry called back.

"Kreacher is taking care of young Master." The house elf followed Harry and Remus to the entrance of the house giving a farewell to Harry before he closed the door.

Harry tore his eyes away from the house just before it vanished between the neighbouring houses.

"Let's go. We don't have much time." Remus led the way while a scruffy, black dog followed closely behind.

They made their way through the streets, dodging traffic and bikes until they arrived at a small and mostly secluded park. It was still early in the morning, so the place was deserted. It was safe here, and if Remus remembered Arthur's words correctly, the Portkey would be past the sandbox at the base of an old oak tree. Sirius ran ahead, wagging his tail excitedly and barked. He had found an empty bottle of Butterbeer hidden by the tall blades of grass.

Remus picked it up and turned to look at Harry. "We have little more than three minutes."

Sirius took one end of the bottle between his jaws while Harry grabbed the other end above Remus hand. They waited in silence until 10 o'clock.

Suddenly Harry felt that familiar tug behind his navel as his body was pulled from the ground and sent through space before he was plunged onto soft, overgrown grass. Sirius was right behind him, wagging his tail still and barking at Harry. He seemed to want the boy to get up. And quickly.

When Harry finally found his strength, he pushed up and then gazed at a massive, cream coloured mansion perched atop a green hill. "Where are we?" asked Harry as his eyes quickly moved from corner to corner, trying to memorise his whereabouts.

"This is Dumbledore's summer home. I'm surprised it looks so clean. It hasn't been used in ages."

"I'm waiting for deer to sprint across the field any moment," added Sirius, who had just transformed back from his Animagus form. "It's too inviting."

From past the corresponding cream coloured fencing Harry could see Dumbledore emerge from the house waving his arms so as to get their attention. Harry was the first to move forwards but he was drawn by his curiosity and the house's decor rather than by Dumbledore's gesture. He pushed open the little gate and walked over neatly applied stepping stones that led right to the mansion's door. On the front porch Harry noticed two welcoming Adirondack chairs on either sides of the door and a massive hanging chandelier. Harry stared up with his mouth open. He was completely mesmerised. He hadn't seen a house this nice since...

Harry felt what little energy he had drain, pour out of him, leaving him to collapse onto one of the chairs.

"Harry, are you alright?"

Remus joined them on the patio and uttered the first thing that came to him. "It's been a long week."

"No doubt it's been a long two months." Dumbledore smiled jovially while holding Remus' eyes. He then looked away just when the small smile on Remus' face fell. "But you had your chance to rest, Harry. It's time for your training to begin. Come along."

The front door opened immediately into a small, dimly lit entrance room much like the halls of Hogwarts. The room was plain, having only a single stand where an empty flower vase sat. To the right there was yet another dimly lit room with nothing more than a fireplace, a rocking chair, and one massive painting of an elderly man above the hearth. The windows were covered by thick, dark drapes which were bewitched to change their patterns every so often. To the left there was yet another room and Harry guessed since there was a large rectangular table with chairs aligned alongside it that it was the dinning room. Looking up, there was another chandelier, but this one was floating on its own just above the table, with long, thin wax candles.

They passed the kitchen which Harry noticed had absolutely no food or snacks whatsoever. Besides the tea kettle that sat on the stove there didn't seem to be any pots or pans. Just a few forks, spoons and teacups.

Just beyond the kitchen were three steps that lowered the party into the drawing room. Finally, a room that wasn’t dim but just as bright as outside. This was because the walls were bewitched to look like glass, allowing all the light from the outside in. There were some couches, too, with a small table upon which a teapot and cups awaited them. "As you've noticed, this house is far from glamorous. But I don't need any of that now. Not when I'm about to use my house as a training facility."

Before Dumbledore could offer his guests seats Harry plopped down onto the couch, feeling weary and in need of a good rest. But just for a moment. He knew very well that he would have to pull himself together. The entire Wizarding World was counting on him. This training was necessary if he was to survive his showdown with Voldemort. He could not let anyone down.

"I'd love to let you rest, Harry, but I know it will do you no good. Not when your training starts this afternoon." Dumbledore poured Harry a cup of tea then began, "While we would like to make you a wizard with a well rounded magical education but we know that our time is short and we must stick to what will best aid you in battle. I have decided to limit you to two classes per day, Monday through Saturday. Sunday you will have free to yourself." Harry gave a sigh of relief but he knew that there would be a catch. "You will study Advanced Transfigurations, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Dark Arts. Because I do not think you will have time to brew a potion while fighting, I will limit Potions to once every other week. We need you to at least be able to distinguish various potions you will bring with you into battle and you will assist our Potions Master in brewing them. A very special friend of mine has agreed to help you, since Professor Snape cannot get away from his duties at Hogwarts.

"Here is what your schedule will look like. You will spend the mornings from 8 a.m. to 12 p.m. in your first lesson. From 1p.m. to 5 p.m. you will attend your afternoon lesson. After 5 you have the day to yourself to practice and study. Your instructors will vary from your dear friends Lupin, Black, Tonks, and Moody to people you are not as close to such as Kingsley when he can get away from his job at the Minister’s side to my dear friend who you have yet to met. Other days I will bring Minerva in while I fill in for her class. In case you didn't know, I taught Transfigurations when I first began my teaching career at Hogwarts. I will also instruct you when I can slip away from Hogwarts. I, however, will focus on teaching you Occlumency. Yes, you will learn it this time. I guarantee it. Any questions?"

"Yeah, about Sundays..."

"You will spend them here. Preferably, in your room, but you may walk about the house. You are not, however, ever to leave the mansion unless accompanied by a fellow Order member. Do you understand, Harry?"

"Yes."

"I must have your word that you will never leave the mansion on your own."

"You have my word."

"Very well then. Your first lesson will begin at thirteen hundred hours sharp. Your instructor will be waiting for you in the upstairs duelling room behind the two large doors. After your lesson, you may remain in the room to practice or return here to have some tea. Then I expect for you to retire to your bedroom. Hedwig will be perched on a stand in your room unless she is out hunting. Dobby will come to you as soon as your dinner is ready. Your dinner may be eaten in the dinning room or in your room. No where else. Am I clear?"

"Very," Harry responded, feeling slightly dizzy from having to retain so much information.

"Dobby will remain with you until your dinner is finished. He won't reappear until breakfast. Lunch is very much the same."

"Alright," said Harry. "Where is my bedroom?"

"Up the stairs, first door to your left. You'll have a splendid view of the forest."

"And, professor, will I be left alone-"

"Never, Harry. There will always be at least two other Order members with you. For this first week, your godfather and Remus have agreed to keep watch. They will occupy the two rooms across from yours if you need anything."

Two rooms? Please. Harry restrained a sarcastic laugh.

"If that is all, I must depart. Hogwarts is back in session and my guidance is needed." Dumbledore raised himself from the couch and adjusted his moon shaped speckles. "I shall be by shortly. Expect me to drop in at any moment. If you need me, you may fire call me or send me an owl."

"Um, will all my stuff be transported here?"

"Yes. In your room, of course. There are two bathrooms upstairs and one behind the painting of a grumpy old lady in a fur coat down the hall. The password is Coco Beans."

Dumbledore than turned to Remus who was leaning against the nearby wall and whispered something to him. Harry leaned forwards slightly, hoping to catch some of what Dumbledore was whispering but the man was speaking too softly to be overheard. "Goodbye then. Please take care. And don't forget about your first lesson, Harry." Dumbledore gave one more smile before he departed.

HARRYPOTTERHARRYPOTTERHARRYPOTTER

The upstairs hall was painted a cobalt blue and just like the hall below, crowded with paintings of witches and wizards. They all seemed to be asleep, or whispering softly with the person in the painting next to them. The people in the paintings didn't seem to be as friendly and talkative as the ones in Hogwarts, for as Harry passed through none of them seemed to pay him any mind. It was then that Harry wondered who they were exactly. The paintings in Dumbledore's office were those of past Headmasters. Could the paintings in these halls be those of Dumbledore's ancestors? If so, there sure were a lot of them.

Harry carried on through the halls. He had more important issues at hand, such as the awaiting instructor. Harry didn't know who it was but if the person was anything like Snape, they would unquestionably hex him for arriving late to his first lesson. Or give him such a difficult time that Harry might just pass out from stress.

A sudden feeling of concern made Harry's stomach drop and his legs move faster. The clock on the right said that he was at least ten minutes early but better early than dead late.

Upon reaching the two doors, Harry thrust out his hands and pulled on the handle bars. Light flashed from behind the doors and Harry waited a few seconds before his eyes could adjust. He rubbed his left eye, then blinked. When the room came into focus, Harry saw that there was a large man seated in the dead centre of the room. As he crept further in Harry noticed that the room was circular, large, and completely empty with walls painted white. Harry was so busy observing the room that he didn't see a flash of light coming towards him.

Suddenly, Harry was struck. He yelped and reached up to shield himself from further harm but he found that he was rather warm and that his paws could hardly hide his face. He blinked, then squeaked. He had been turned into a furry black ferret. He knew who the man sitting on the chair was: Mad-Eye Moody.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE, Potter! What have I been telling you?" Moody limped from his seat over to where Harry, now a tiny black ferret, stood. "Do you think the Dark Wizards will warn you before they strike? You'll be lucky if you get them to use a verbal spell to let you know what is coming. The Dark Lord won’t be so nice, Harry. He is quite capable of nonverbal spells and Legilimency. You'll have it coming if you don't get your act together."

With a negligent wave of his wand, Moody lifted his spell and Harry was no longer a helpless ferret. "You have too much on your mind as it is already. Clear your head. This may just be day one but it's one more day you have to prepare yourself against the Dark Lord."

"Yes, sir."

"You'll be practicing Dark Arts with me, Harry. A lot to handle for your first day but this is nothing compared to what you have yet to face. Come now, get out your wand. I'm not going to give you handouts. You're going to get hands-on experience with spells. Dark spells."

Harry reached into his pocket, fumbled with the material of his robes, then drew his wand.

Moody grinned then led Harry further into the room where Harry saw several small objects carelessly scattered on the floor. Moody pointed his wand at the objects, whispered a few incantations and Harry watched as each of the objects were transfigured into massive blocks of stone. Apparently the objects weren't left there unintentionally.

"We will start with Severus' own unique spell. The Sectumsempra. You are familiar with the curse, are you not, Harry?"

"N... no." Snape had never mentioned the spell before. Snape didn't really tell Harry much of anything.

"Hm, well, I guess he had his head occupied with a few other things," Moody smirked while Harry's face showed utter disbelief. Harry couldn't believe Moody was alluding to his relationship with Snape. And if he was not, well, Moody's statement still seemed to be strongly suggestive.

"Stand up straight, Harry, and hold your wand tightly. You are to master this spell and generate it as it should be when used on a foe. First, I shall demonstrate." Moody approached a stone block, held his wand over his shoulder and roared, "Sectumsempra!" as he lashed his wand downward.

A massive gush of light with a seemingly sharp edge to it raced towards the stone block and effortlessly passed through it. Harry watched and waited, swapping restless looks between Moody and the stone block. Eventually, Moody approached the block and used another spell to pry the black apart. The Sectumsempra apparently split it clean in half. Harry gaped then stuttered. What a sickly wonderful spell. It made him think of an old Muggle saying, 'sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me'. Well, Muggles never heard a word quite as fatal as this.

"Depending on the force of magic behind the spell, the Sectumsempra can leave your enemy with either a small gash, or completely in half." Moody turned to look at Harry who still hadn't looked away from the block. "Your goal is to learn how to channel your magic so that you produce clean and powerful results, then, to use it as a nonverbal spell. This will give you an advantage, for besides members of the Order - who have personally felt its sharp blow - this spell is not known to anyone else. The spell is fast, difficult to dodge, and quite handy."

"Members of the Order have...."

"Yes. Whenever your father or his friend pissed off Severus enough."

Harry winced. He knew about Snape's animosity towards his father and friends, but he never knew the hostility turned quite so dangerous.

"Severus was and remains a Dark Wizard. As a first year, he knew more spells and curses than half the seventh years."

Harry blinked.

"But enough about Severus. You can interview him on your own time. Come, we have work to do."

Moody bade Harry to stand before a small shoe he had transfigured from one half of the split block of stone. "Let's see what you are capable of."

Harry gripped his wand and held it over his shoulder as Moody did, he then shouted, "Sectumsempra!" as he lashed it towards the shoe.

A small burst of light sped towards the shoe, then the lace split apart before the shoe itself slumped in two different directions. Harry had done it. He had successfully split the shoe and he felt excited, though from the passive look on Moody's face, the wizard had expected this. There was more to come. "Nothing less from you, Harry."

Moody grabbed Harry by the arm and led him to a block of wood. "A first year can learn and use this spell on the first try and slice open flesh. But your spell will need enough force to rip apart a shield and then some before it reaches your target. And even so, the energy left behind will need to be strong enough to cause harm to your victim. Preferably, fatal harm."

"But what about the Avada Kedavra? Isn't that spell unpreventable, inescapable?"

"So long as you have a clear shot at them, yes, but your foe will recognise it."

"But what good will it do them to recognise it if they can't escape or block it?"

"Some can Apparate fast enough if they sense that you are about to use the Killing Curse. An uncommon, unique spell such as the Sectumsempra may capture the targets attention as you lift your wand over your shoulder instead of pointing it directly at your victim. Of course, you'd be a fool to wait around for that spell to hit you. Anyways, Harry, I shall be teaching you the Killing Curse later if you desire to use it. The Sectumsempra may also get rid of any obstacles between you and your target."

Moody pointed at the wooden block and Harry repeated the incantation. Unlike the shoe, the wooden block stopped the spell midway. Harry hadn't used enough force, though he was sure he had summoned up every bit of his strength. He approached the block and ran his finger over the split his spell had made. "Not enough power, Harry. This is why we started with the Sectumsempra. You will realize how much force your power has and learn how to channel it appropriately. If you cannot cut a wooden block in half, how can you expect your Avada Kedavra to do anything more than give your foe a nosebleed?"

"How do I draw more power?"

"It will take concentration, Harry, and a lot of patience. Wand blowing powers will not come to you from hacking up a few blocks of wood. You will need practice and a lot of it. Lucky for you, you will have the rest of the afternoon with me. And I guarantee you, that wooden block will be nothing more than splinters when I am done with you for the day."

Moody forced Harry to continue hacking up the wooden block using Sectumsempra. When he saw that Harry was getting frustrated and red with exertion, Moody would pull Harry away from the block, have the boy close his eyes and breathe for a few minutes. "Concentrate, but don't blow out your brains. Feel your power surge within you, grasp it, then unleash it. Think of the block as your most hated foe. Or the one object that stands between you and the thing you want the most."

It took Harry nearly the entire afternoon before one blast, pouring with pent up rage, managed to divide the block into two.

Harry huffed. He was rather angry before he had finished his task and was still feeling too much of that anger, though slightly abated, to jump for joy and applaud himself.

"It's not time to celebrate yet. You have one more hour to go and one stone block still stands untouched."

Harry never looked so hopeless as he stared at the intimidating stone block. It was almost as if it was snickering at him and having used up much of his energy channelling it towards the wooden block for the past four hours, Harry didn't think he could cut off a grain from that solid stone. He was tired. His arms felt heavy. His head felt heavy. And he was panting.

"You magic is out of shape. No matter. Give it a few days and you will have worked out your magic more than you have ever done."

A one hour break between sessions suddenly didn't seem like enough. Especially if he was going to have Dark Arts and possibly Occlumency all in the same day. He didn't even think a good night's sleep would allow him to fully recover in time for tomorrow's lesson.

"Pull yourself together, Harry! You are still young and as vigorous as you'll ever be!"

Harry raised his head towards the stone block and cursed as he raised his sore arm over his shoulder. Four hours had never felt so long.

SEVERUSSNAPESEVERUSSNAPESEVERUSSNAPE

Fully stuffed from a delicious dinner straight from the kitchens of Hogwarts, Harry wandered upstairs and in search of his room where, no doubt, his bed would be awaiting him. "Firs' door on righ'," he mumbled sleepily as he carried himself through the dark halls. He felt the door knob, turned it and walked inside. What he saw, or rather, didn't see made his shoulders slump and his mouth hang open. "Bastards..."

His room was probably the emptiest room he had seen since entering the mansion. Besides his trunk and Hedwig’s perch, not even a rug lay on the wooden floor before him. "What is this rubbish?"

Did they expect for him to transfigure a bed and pillow out of thin air? Rubbish! Harry repeated in his mind.

He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he left. He marched downstairs and then threw himself onto the couch. He was too tired to even notice how chilly the house was, but not tired enough to think about his son who was at home, hopefully sleeping in his crib.

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