This story is a work of fiction. I do not state factually the sexuality of any of the people in this work, so no lawsuits, ok? Harry Potter, Hogwarts and the other characters are copyrighted by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic books and whoever else. I don't have their permission to use their characters, but somehow I don't think she'll care.
I stared at my opponent on the other side of the mat. I still wondered how my instructors had known my little secret. What secret? Well, in my dreams, I was remembering things I'd never learned, especially advanced martial arts. So there I was, fifteen years old, and a green belt in tae kwon do facing off against a twenty-three-year-old black belt in karate! Of course, I was wearing a black belt to face this guy, but I wondered why I was doing this.
My ruminations were disturbed when my opponent moved impossibly fast to come at me with a wicked kick, which I dodged by sidestepping and countering with a punch to the chest.
He blocked the punch, grabbed my wrist and flipped me over his shoulder before bringing his foot down, HARD, on my chest. One point. He laughed. "Is this the best you can do? That was a white-belt mistake."
I glared at him and flipped up to my feet as the official separated us.
He grinned and, as soon as the official had shouted "hajime!" (begin) he was at me with a rapid-fire combination of kicks and punches that my official training had no way to counter. Sure enough, a strong snap-kick to my chest had me on the ground, wheezing. One point.
I took a moment to catch my breath and asked to confer with my instructors. They looked at me calmly and said, "We need you to win this, Matt. You have no idea how important this really is." I hesitated for a moment and saw how grave they were. Something was going on that I knew nothing about, and I didn't like that. So I shot them a look of anger and one that also said "we'll talk about this later," and went back to the fight.
I stood facing my opponent, and changed my fighting stance. Well, that isn't entirely accurate. I DID change my stance-my hands went from in front of me to my sides, and I turned to face him directly instead of sideways-but I also changed the way I held myself. I closed my eyes, took a moment to focus, and stood straighter and totally relaxed. After twisting my neck to loosen it (accompanied by a lot of crackling sounds), I motioned for him to attack.
He watched me warily, but charged at me with I front kick and punch simultaneously. I barely moved, but both went by me. I stepped in, grabbed his gi with one hand and flipped him over me, striking him in the chest with my other hand twice before he hit the ground. One point.
My teachers looked relieved. So did the two strange men behind them who I hadn't really noticed before.
He was angry. That was obvious. This second attack was more reckless and faster. I moved only my head from side to side to avoid his punches and my left arm moved a few inches only to block his kicks. As he lifted his right leg for a close-up knee to my chest, I struck. I hooked my right foot behind his left knee, dragging him down to the ground, and whipped my foot around so that it struck him in the center of his chest. Since he was already off balance, he flew back about a foot or two. One point. Next point would win the match.
He stood up, so angry he was shaking. For a moment, he seemed to glow red. He screamed, and he attacked me. He was faster than I'd ever seen anyone move. It was impossibly fast. My reflexes were all set to block; I couldn't simply dodge. I got a little angry myself and as I got angrier, I sped up as well. Soon, it was obvious that there were two glowing figures fighting in the ring: one a sooty red, the other a royal blue. The crowd started muttering, wondering what the hell was happening.
I wondered the same thing. I didn't know why, but something felt terribly wrong, and I mean more than the whole glowing thing. After all, you do martial arts long enough, you understand energy, and this didn't seem the same. Deep in the pit of my stomach, felt something tighten unbearably, then finally release. At its release, I felt a flood of renewed energy and strength.
My opponent's eyes widened as he seemed to sense what had just happened to me and he began to snarl "cormash, virathne gaiya malach!" His glow grew so bright I couldn't see, and I had to disengage.
One of the men behind my teachers shouted, "No! Don't let him change!"
I couldn't believe it. When the glow subsided, my opponent's eyes were flaming red, and the light flowed around his body, though in the back it bulged in the shape of wings. "Fool! You thought to best me in this contest!?"
Something within me snapped, and my fear of this monster turned to hatred. "Naturally," I said calmly, "I've bested you before. This time, it ends, however," I added. I knew it was the truth, but I didn't know how I knew.
From my hands, still down at my sides, I felt great heat. With a final shout, I thrust my hands in front of me, and gouts of fire roared out. People screamed and shouted and tried to run from the stadium, but the two men behind my teachers calmly rose, and held up a slim twig in their hands. Simultaneously, they shouted "Obliviate!" and the crowd fell silent. My two teachers pulled some sticks out of their gym bags and aimed at the officials. "Obliviate," they yelled. The rest of them fell silent.
"Well, well, well," said one of the men to me. "I didn't think it was possible, but Mark and Mike (my instructors) told me the truth. You, my boy, have a great deal of potential. Want to join the good side?"
My mind was reeling from what I'd just done, and I was only barely conscious. Still, I nodded my head, and the two men took each of my arms and we vanished.
That was two years ago.
"Matt," my mother's voice woke me. "Matt, get up. You have a message." I slowly opened my eyes and wiped the sleep away before sitting up. At my window, a large barn owl stood with a scroll tied to its leg. "Great," I moaned. "I just got back from Spain yesterday!"
My mom gave me a look that said, "You agreed to this two years ago, so do your job!" But of course, she never said that. She only said, "I'll get something made so you can take it with you."
I shrugged and smiled tiredly. What else could I do? I reached into the drawer next to my bed and pulled out a couple of bronze Knuts to give the owl and retrieved my message. He hooted happily and flew off. I opened the letter. In deep, blood-red ink, the familiar hand read, "Matt, trouble in England. Wide-ranging problems. Meet train at King's Cross Station, London on Sept. 1 at 9 am. Your luggage and supplies have been provided. Platform 9 3/4." As usual, he didn't leave a signature. There was postscript at the bottom, however. THAT was strange. "By the way, bring a wand, and try to act like you look."
My somewhat happy day sunk into gloom. A WAND?! I hated using those damn things. The only ones I ever used were the four I'd made for myself to help me in my battles. I figured those would do. Like I look...lovely. At seventeen, I still looked fifteen or even fourteen. Shit. That meant I'd be around young people. I hate kids. To take my mind off that terrible thought, I rifled through my room for about five minutes.
"MOM," I yelled downstairs, "WHERE'S MY WAND CASE? I CAN'T FIND IT!"
"IT'S IN THE CLOSET ON THE TOP SHELF, MATT! YOU NEVER USE IT, AND I'M TIRED OF TRIPPING OVER IT!"
"All right," I muttered to myself as I got out of bed and went to my closet. I gently levitated a foot off the ground to reach the top shelf and found my mahogany box. The foot-long box gleamed blackly in the light and I gently undid the silver clasp.
Inside the box, on red velvet cushions lay my four wands, all aching to be used. I resisted the temptation as I stopped to think which one to take. The first one was a polished cherry wood with a large ruby set at the base. Inside the ruby, when held to the light, you could see a tiny feather. The heat I felt in my hands when I picked it up was a very pleasant tingling. It seemed to be beginning me to take it. I set it back down.
The next was a white pine. At its base sat a diamond with a curved canine fang glittering silver within it. I picked it up. Like the others, it had no markings, was completely smooth, and totally inflexible and unbreakable. The chill in my hands was also pleasant, but not nearly as much as the heat before. It yearned to be used. I set it back in the box.
The next wand was oak with a yellow topaz at the base. Within the topaz lay a tiny hexagonal scale. I knew it was from a dragon. A fang dragon (now extinct) to be precise. It drew my hand to it, but I chose not to take it.
I took a deep breath and picked up the final wand. It also was mahogany, polished to a dead black. At its base sat a large black sapphire cut in half and separated by deep blue sapphire in a sinuous line. Lost in the darkness of the right half some dark liquid splashed about. In the left half, silvery liquid glowed, seeming to strain for release. This wand pulsed in my hands and I quickly set it down. It was the most powerful wand I'd ever made, and had never yet used it. The two liquids were the blood of a unicorn (one that I'd tried to heal but failed. I would never kill a unicorn), and my own blood. Their combination was quite potent and quite unpredictable.
I closed the case, sighed and put on some clothes to go eat breakfast.
After breakfast, I grabbed a quick shower and brushed my teeth. I pulled on some clean clothes, and put my black silk cloak on over them. After that, I pulled out the second drawer of the oak nightstand next to the bed and grabbed crystal sphere that rested comfortably in a niche in the wood. The moment my hand touched the crystal, I felt a familiar pulling in my chest as the portkey grabbed me and took me to work.
I arrived in the office almost instantly, of course, and walked-stalked might be more accurate-to the Head's office, where I barged in without knocking. "What the hell is this, SIR," I asked, holding up his note. "I'm getting really tired of this cryptic crap. Everyone knows who I am."
"Not everyone," he disagreed calmly.
"Close enough. Everyone in OUR world."
"You are unique. We do what we can to keep you our secret weapon."
"John," I sighed, "everyone knows about the youngest Auror ever. There are already books about me!"
"And you'll notice, if you ever read them, that they're only speculation. Nothing is known. Even the Dark wizards you capture have their memory modified so they don't remember it was you doing it."
"It'd be easier if you'd just let me kill them," I muttered sulkily.
"No! I won't tell you again that that is unacceptable!"
"Fine," I snapped. "Then would you mind filling me in on what I'm being sent out for this time? Or are you STILL keeping secrets from me?"
He took a moment to compose himself, but his gray eyes still flashed dangerously. "We've received word from the Ministry in England that the Headmaster of their academy believes the Dark Lord is returning."
"Voldemort," I scoffed, "so what?"
"Matt, you're too young to really remember the terror he inspired-"
I cut him off. "So what? Terror. Whoop-de-do. Look, I've fought DEMONS for you. What makes you think I'd be afraid of some hedgerow necromancer?"
"Because, you moron, he is NOT some hedgerow necromancer. He is the only wizard we know, including Merlin himself! who didn't stay dead. He was struck by his own Avada Kedavra curse and is back. You think YOU could do that?"
"Probably," I shrugged. "since the Three don't affect me. But you know I don't use Avada Kedavra. Too crude."
"Don't flaunt your powers at me, boy! I GAVE you those abilities."
THAT did it. I'd worked for this man unceasingly for two years, and never a vacation, never a thanks, nothing. Yes, he got some of the books I'd studied from, but him giving me a power that was unfathomable to him? That pissed me off. I immediately began to exude a bright blue aura, and my voice reverberated throughout his office. "Flaunt my powers? You haven't even BEGUN to see what I am capable of now." Without word or motion, I lifted off the ground smoothly. "You gave me my powers? How arrogant could you possibly be? You have achieved your position, your recognition through MY sweat and MY energy, and what have I gotten for it?" I levitated him out of his chair as well.
"Your Floating Charm is a simple trick and won't frighten me," he squeaked.
"Really? Do you see a wand? Did you see me 'swish and flick'," I mocked, waving my empty hand around in a parody of his teaching attempts at such a charm. "I don't recall saying 'wingardium leviosa.' This is MY power, MY doing, and MY creation! Don't you DARE forget that! I will do this job, because at least this Voldemort sounds like a challenge. But then we are through. Do you understand me?"
"Challenge," he countered. "You are an idiot. If he is back and you confront him directly, you will be destroyed."
I snorted. "Doubtful. But at least I'll learn a lot of things in the process. My secrecy meant self-teaching. And being alone with you morons. Now, I can learn what I'm really capable of. I assume the arrangements are made?"
"Yes." His voice had a tone of defeat in it. "You will be treated as a delayed fourth year student, since you seem to know what you're doing."
"Delayed?"
"You look as though you should be a fifth or sixth year student. It just means your magical aptitude wasn't discovered until you were a little older. It happens sometimes."
"Uh huh." I was dubious.
"As you're a transfer student, you'll be placed into one of their Houses. You know how the school system works?"
"I'm familiar with it."
"Find out everything you can while in England. This job may take even a few years, so be careful. Don't do anything reckless. And for God's sake, keep a hold on your temper!"
"Reckless? You mean like throwing an untrained, untried teenager against a demon?"
He stared at me and lowered his eyes in shame. I dropped him into his chair, and with a swirling of light, I teleported home. (It's something I came up with. My...instructors wouldn't teach me how to Apparate, since my abilities with 'their' magic is rather poor. I can mimic a lot of their spells, but actually performing them is something else. I'd explain the difference, but I don't really know how to Apparate, so until then, think of them as similar.)
Once home, I picked up the phone and called my mother at work. "Mom, I hate to say this, but I'm off for England in about two weeks. I want to get used to it before I have to stay for a long time."
"A long time," she asked, sounding worried.
"This is a complex one. I don't know how long I'll be."
"Where in England?"
"Their school of wizardry. I'm going to the library to read up on it in a few."
"A school? Really? Great, Matt! You need a real education and some friends."
"Oh, Mom," I groaned.
"I'm serious, young man."
"I know. I just wanted to give you a warning. I'm going to be doing a lot of prep work. And I'll have to do some shopping. You know how expensive schoolbooks can be."
"I understand, dear. But aren't your schoolbooks covered?"
"Actually, I think they are," I grinned sheepishly though she couldn't see me.
"I've got to go, I'll see you when I get back from work. Dad should be home from his trip tomorrow."
"Great! See you after work."
I lifted my right hand, concentrating, and slowly my bed lifted off the floor. I smiled. At least things like this were getting easier. A few months before, I hadn't been able to lift it more than a few inches without help. Underneath the bed lay a sigil that I used for my own purposes of recognition: like a magical nametag. I placed my left hand on the sigil and said, "Alohomora Tamarico del lumos potente." The floorboards glowed brightly then vanished to reveal a wooden stairway descending. I DID owe all of my companions in the office for enchanting this room. I had no idea how they did all that. Charms and I never worked well together. I was always better with invocations than with even simple enchantments. Oh well. More to learn at a real school. I was looking forward to it.
Down the stairwell, I had a small writing desk with a bottle of ink and a few decent quills. The room itself was about seven feet high, but about five feet square, so quite small. I hung a globe of light from the ceiling that I renewed every time I went down there. And the walls...the walls were lined with books. Many of them in obscure languages, most of them older than old. Inside of these books lay incantations, spells and summonings. Potions, herbology, numerology, etc. didn't exist here, but necromancy (aka the Dark Arts) and battle magicks of old did. More importantly were three tomes of spells listed from the time of Merlin: the last known wizard who could utilize magic through will alone, rather than wands or even incantations.
In the drawer of the desk sat another book, made in the old style, but new. I opened it almost halfway, dipped my quill and began to write, "Once the simplest of incantations has been mastered, the caster must practice the usage of this spell until it becomes second nature. For example, the levitation chant listed earlier (Chapter XVI), 'abrente dei co'mare' must be used with the same focus. Provided the caster has the ability to perform the levitation, then with practice, the state of mind required by the incantation becomes automatic and a simple gesture will do. With more practice, the gesture becomes unnecessary, though many do find it comforting."
It took a while to do that, unfortunately. Damn books of spells just can't be typed. I wish I knew why. After writing a little more in my book and making notes in a notebook (attempts, failures, successes. Stuff not ready to go into the book yet), I rose and left the chamber.
Then I went to the library.
I enjoyed walking during the nice, early August day, so I walked to the public library and went to the basement. The older man at the info desk in the basement gave me a welcoming, and knowing, smile. I approached a blank wall of bricks and tapped gently on the third from the left followed by the fifth on the right. Then I pushed gently and a doorway opened into another section of the library. This section, illuminated by floating candles that glowed with a bluish flame, was stuffed to overflowing with heavy volumes.
After about twenty minutes of looking, I finally found the book I was looking for: "Hogwarts, A History." I grabbed it, found a chair, and settled down to read.
I learned a lot, and a few hours later, I closed the book. "Interesting," I muttered. "So, now I need to find out about Albus Dumbledore."
Using the reference, his name popped up almost everywhere. I grabbed what I could and spent the rest of the day there. "Matt," the old custodian quietly spoke in my ear. "Time to go."
I looked up from the fifth book I'd read through and he was blurry. I must have been more tired than I thought. "You've been here all day. Time to close up."
I nodded. "Thanks." With a thought, I teleported home and fell into bed.
I woke up the next morning and began to pack a suitcase. The information I'd gleaned had been very useful, but I figured I'd need some time in England to get used to it. "Mom," I called.
"Yes, dear?"
"I'm off to England. I need to get used to it early. Forward my mail, will you? I'll give you the address once I'm there."
"But Matt," she protested, "you just got back!"
"I know, Mom. I'm sorry. I wish I could stay more, but this is the last one. I promise. Besides, you were so keen for me to go and meet new people."
"But Matt-"
"Don't you worry about me. Once I have a place, I'll come back and forth all the time until school starts. You know distance doesn't matter to me."
She smiled and gave me a hug and kiss.
"Your father is going to be upset he missed you."
"I know. But I need to get started. This one might actually be tough."
She grinned at my smirk. "Don't you get cocky."
"Who, me?"
"Have fun, Matt. And...be careful."
"I need the car," I added. She just gave me a look.
"What," I protested. "It's cheaper than getting plane tickets, and I'm NOT sitting on a broom for 1400 miles!"
"Why don't you just...?" She made a vague gesture with her right hand. I gave her an evil look. "Fine. Take the car."
"You two don't fly it anyway," I shot out as I ran back upstairs. I was really excited about this. I hadn't been to school for a few years, and it was a muggle school. I just didn't fit in, even then. I'd done well in those schools, but didn't, as the shirt said, "play well with others." So, even I was surprised at my excitement of starting school. Who'd've thought it?
I loaded my suitcase into the trunk of the car and loaded it. Once inside, I turned it on and took off, setting a generally northeasterly direction. I knew if I hit Europe, I'd have to turn north. Lastly, I turned on the invisibility required in any flying object, and set the cruise control.
I was off to England!
I woke up somewhere over Ireland, the remnants of my dream leaving me in a cold sweat. I heard a high, almost feminine, maniacal laugh and saw a flash of shocking green. And I was scared. I shook myself physically and rested my hand on the box with my wands. The familiar tingle of magic was comforting, and I pulled out another book to read for the final hour until I had to pull in to London airspace.
I finished "Hogwarts, A History" and sat back. -I wonder if the supposed Chamber of Secrets is still there. Sounds cool-I thought.
Soon enough, I entered London's flying zones and had to be on the lookout for planes. Damn muggles. Always in the way. I circled around, brought the car in for a landing, and restored my visibility. "Now, I need to find a place to stay."
I pulled a map out of the glovebox and for the next hour or so tried to figure out exactly HOW I was going to find my way around in the city. Or even THROUGH the city, for that matter.
Eventually, with a great deal of stopping for directions (how embarrassing), I came across a decent real estate agency.
"Hello," the young woman behind the desk greeted me. "How can I help you?"
"Actually, I need a nice place to live."
"All right. What's your price range?"
"Uh, I'm not sure. I don't know the money exchange. Do you happen to know where, uh," I consulted my paperwork, "a pub called 'The Leaky Cauldron' is? I have a friend who'll meet me there and show me the ropes."
"Right. You're not too far away, lad. It's only six blocks down the main road and to the right."
"Thank you. I'll be right back."
She nodded, and I went to the Leaky Cauldron. From there, I went immediately to the back and entered Diagon Alley, as I knew of no other place where I could exchange wizard money for muggle.
It didn't take me long, although I had to admit that I found Diagon Alley very interesting. It was quaint, really. I mean, a real haberdashery? Wow!
The Gringott's goblins weren't all so bad, especially once they found my employers had opened an account and given me quite a sizeable supply of galleons. (Plus my savings from the last few years.) I have to admit, I'd forgotten how much easier paper money is to deal with in large quantities. Mom or Dad did most of the shopping back home.
I made my purchases as required by Hogwarts, bought some lunch, then left, keeping a few Bernie Bott's Every Flavour Beans in my pocket for a snack.
I returned to the real-estate agency and together we looked through some recent vacancies. I've always had a penchant for the antique, and London had some beautiful antique homes! Victorian at the least, and kept in perfect condition.
We settled in the end on three that I would look at the following day, and asked to be directed to a hotel. I drove there, paid for the night, and pulled out my current choice of homework: Standard book of Spells, Grade Four. I read through it thoroughly, pulling out my fire wand to try. No luck with most of them. I could do many of those spells, but not like this. I sighed, put away wand and book and went to sleep, wondering why I had to deal with all this muggle stuff again.