Brave New World

A/N: I tried to post this part before, but it wouldn\'t post so I had to make another chapter.





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For the next two days, Harry thought getting up at six in the morning might not be so bad. Mostly because by the time he went to bed the night before he was so exhausted he slept all the way through the night. The running wasn’t so bad, though he might never be able to express his gratitude for the new trainers. Running in Dudley’s old shoes would have been worse than running barefoot. He made it through the sit-ups easily, the push-ups were more of a challenge. The chin-ups were very nearly a waltz through hell. And he thought he was in shape. The bar he found to perform the exercises mocked him each time he approached it.



No, he was getting plenty of sleep. The bar truly was mocking him, in a sarcastic voice that sounded very much like a nasal Frenchman. Or it was possibly the portrait across from him. He was usually too tired to tell the difference.



Leo had explained most of his plans for the first month, lots of exercises concentrating on agility and strength conditioning. They would work their way through some boxing, kick boxing and what Leo called good old fashioned street brawling. He looked very gleeful then and Harry had to manfully restrain a tremble of fear. Eventually they would work on knife fighting but only when Leo was satisfied Harry could handle himself in a fight without getting hurt.



The Unspeakable had also promised to instruct him on how to care for and operate a handgun. When Harry pointed out that most magic could shield against bullets, Leo had quietly countered with the fact that a silver bullet would do to a raging werewolf what magic couldn’t. It was hard to dispute that argument.



At the moment he was in the Gryffindor common room trying to study for his other classes, though Leo’s latest assignment wasn’t far from his mind and it was due the next day. Even with classes more challenging, things were much like years that had passed. Each Professor had lectured the first day about the difficulties 6th and 7th year students faced in NEWT level courses. All stressed the importance of time management and diligent study for the impending NEWT exam in 7th year. Then each and every one proceeded to hand out an insane amount of homework usually consisting of reading many chapters of text, intense practice of spell work and several feet of essays to assure comprehension.



Had he been tasked with this much work even last year, he probably would have been complaining like Ron. Constantly. Incessantly. Annoyingly. He had to wonder how Hermione put up with the two of them for so long.



It wasn’t that he suddenly discovered a love for academia, far from it. Given a choice, he would prefer to be doing anything else. He basically understood now that if he didn’t learn and incorporate the knowledge his Professors were trying to impart, he would die.



That made his choices quite simple.



Ron of course had given him several strange looks when Hermione suggested they study or work on homework and he didn’t express the same aversion Ron did.



“Harry, I thought you said you had a Potions paper to finish, that isn’t our book for class.”



“It isn’t, it’s for my independent study course,” he muttered before he realized what he was saying.



“Independent study? We weren’t offered a course like that!” Hermione sounded offended and interested all at the same time. He hadn’t told them about his private training, partly because Dumbledore suggested he keep the particulars to himself but mostly to avoid this conversation. He didn’t want Hermione or Ron to feel like they were being excluded and anytime someone tried to withhold knowledge from Hermione she became extremely upset.



“It’s for the war, Hermione.” He clarified, trying to keep the arguing at a minimum.



“That’s all the more reason why we should be included, don’t you think? We’re going to be there at your side fighting, V-Vol-Voldemort, we could use the extra training.”



“You’d have to speak to Dumbledore about it then.” He put the blame off on the Headmaster, let him deal with it.



“Maybe we could start the DA again, Harry, and you could show us, you know like last year.” Ron’s idea wasn’t a bad one but he didn’t know if he would have time.



“Yes! I don’t believe Professor Dumbledore would mind if we started the DA again.”



“We’ll have to wait and see Hermione. I mean Professor Sloan isn’t a bad instructor and classes just started. We should give it a few weeks and let everyone settle in before making a decision.”



“Fine,” she sighed, “As long as you keep it in mind.” She set her work aside, focusing on him fully now. “So what are you working on?”



“I need thirteen spells by tomorrow. Seven offensive and six defensive. Spells that I would make apart of my general arsenal, you know that I use regularly.”



Leo claimed these would be his ‘bread and butter’ spells. Spells he would be able to use so well and accurately that the effect on his magic would become negligible. They would train those thirteen spells until he could do them silently as well.



“So what do you have so far?” Ron asked getting interested.



“For offensive, expelliarmus, stupefy and reducto. I was thinking of adding incendio, diffindo and confringo.” They were both silent looking at him funny. “What’s wrong with those?”



“They’re very powerful,” Hermione spoke up, “For spells that you want use regularly. Especially Reducto and Confringo. Are you certain you want those?”



He hasn’t considered those two overly powerful, but seeing their expressions he didn’t want to tell them that either. “Well I thought about expulso and depulso,” he paused at Ron’s widening eyes. “I guess I’ll see what Leo says.”



“Leo?” Ron asked in a choked voice.



“My Professor, he said I could call him by his first name. It’s not a big deal. Anyway,” he shrugged, “For my defensive spells, definitely my Patronus. Maybe Confundo, Protego absolutely, impedimenta, langlock and I can’t decide between petrificus totalus and serpensortia.”



“Why would you want a snake conjuring spell as a defensive spell?



“Ron,” Hermione murmured. “Harry is a parselmouth, remember.”



“Leo says I should take advantage of all of my strengths. Even the ones I may not necessarily like.”



“Maybe you should keep that one as a surprise,” Ron suggested. “You know, since, you-know-who is a parselmouth and how everyone reacted in second year.”



He didn’t like it but Ron was probably right. “What about locomotor mortis instead then?”



“What’s the hurry, you have plenty of time to make a decision.”



“I just want to get this settled, Leo expects me to have a plan ready for class tomorrow.”



“What’s happened to you Harry. Two days straight you’ve been acting like ‘Mione with all of this studying. Are you sick or something?”



This wasn’t the first time he’d heard this complaint, or something near it anyway. And it always offended Hermione. He would think Ron would get the message by now that insulting his girlfriend wasn’t exactly the proper thing to do.



“Perhaps, Ron, if you took your own studies more seriously like Harry, then you would be rushing about at the last minute trying to finish the last foot of essay before class begins.”



“Look guys,” he tried to hold off the forth coming argument but as usual he found resistance was futile.



“Just because I have a life other than reading, doesn’t mean I don’t take my work seriously.”



“Oh really? I’m sure you just have so many activities on your busy schedule. Chess, exploding snap and let’s not forget the ever popular, eating.”



“don’t forget quidditch,” Ron pointed out, missing the thick layer of sarcasm permeating Hermione’s words.



“yes because we all know flying around on brooms is more important than your future.”



Their arguments typically deteriorated from here, with Ron growing more insulting with every word and Hermione’s feelings getting hurt before she finally got fed up and stormed away fighting off tears and fury. This year, his best friends seemed to realize all that pent up frustration could be released in an entirely different manner.



“I do so thin about the future. Suppose you’ll always be after me to something one way or another,” Ron smiled sheepishly before turning to his girlfriend.



It had to be love for Hermione to fall for that load of manure. Sure enough, the tension in her face softened to a shy smile. “Oh Ronald.”



And, “Five, four, three two-“ Harry muttered, more than a little put out as their study session became something else. A snogging one. He didn’t begrudge the two a relationship but that didn’t mean he wanted front row seats and vivid images to go along with it.



“I’m heading up guys.” Neither of them were paying any attention, closing the distance between each other. Rolling his eyes he gathered his things. At the base stairs, he gave them one last look, grimacing at the path Ron’s hand was traveling. “Oh, Merlin, my eyes,” he snorted and jogged up.



FSFSFS



Seeing as he had finished the potions essay due the next day, Harry packed his things away for the night. He had the spells he wanted and Leo would probably approve of most of them or offer better suggestions. It was difficult staying on task, focusing so intently on his work and he was forced to acknowledge how much time he had wasted during his previous years at Hogwarts.



After a long hot shower and dressing for bed, he went to slip his glasses off and place them on the night stand but halted at the green book stuffed into his bookcase.



He wasn’t hiding it from his friends. Not exactly. He just hadn’t decided what he want to do about it yet. Ron’s reaction was easy to predict. Ron would demand he burn it immediately. He wouldn’t even try to understand why Harry held on to it for so long in the first place.



Hermione would be more cautious on the principle of it being a book and her respect for those would initially overcome any instinctive repulsion. The fact that it was very similar to Voldemort’s diary from second year was the first strike against it. Coming from a Slytherin was also not in it’s favor. After careful consideration, Hermione would insist he turn it over to Professor McGonagall so she could assure it’s safety.



Harry might have agreed at once with both opinions but he had a feeling this book wasn’t meant to be shared or passed around with anyone but the intended. Granted last year his instincts hadn’t done him any favors but he had been working in the dark with several elements against him.



The ministry was out to get him, Snape was rifling violently through his memories, Dumbledore was avoiding him and withholding valuable information and Voldemort had taken up residence in his mind. It was a wonder he was still sane.



All were blows to not only his confidence but to the instinctive belief in himself that he tried to keep throughout the hellish years with the Dursleys.



Everything had changed and he was slowly piecing himself back together. His initial distrust of anything Slytherin was no longer there.



Also, his curiosity was aroused. Hermione would say that trait would be his downfall one day. In the past his inquisitiveness had brought him no favors. Perhaps he should be wary and get rid of the book but he couldn’t help himself, just like Davis had said.



He wanted to read it.



Ron grew up in a pureblood family. Not a typical one but much about the Wizarding world Ron took for granted everyone knew anyway. If there was something to know, Hermione had already read three books about it already. That’s how determined she was to fit into the place where some thought a muggle-born had no place.



He just went along, waiting either for Ron or Hermione to tell him what he needed to know, without taking the initiative to explore the Wizarding world on his own. And that pretty much decided for him. He was tired of being spoon fed information on a need to know basis, usually with him being the last to need to know. It was time for research of his own. He didn’t have to take the class if he wanted to learn more about Wizarding law or spell casting. Hogwarts had a full library waiting for him to take advantage of its contents. This little book, causing him so much inner turmoil, whether good or bad, was a fine place to start.



He quickly flipped open to the first chapter and grunted, feeling let down after such a building climax. “Etiquette for the Proper Witch and Wizard.”



“Bloody hell, just how different can that be,” he groaned but settled down to read anyway.



By the end of the chapter he was not so apathetic.