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Author: Gridley Story: Harry Potter and the Price of Freedom Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 15 Words: 30,601
That evening, in the common room, Harry sat silently as Hermione filled Ron and Ginny in on the events with Snape. Rain rattled the windows. Thunder and lighting provided background effects that seemed eerily appropriate. "I've always thought that slimy git was up to something," Ron snarled. "And you've always been wrong!" Hermione shot back. "You said yourself that Dumbledore was worried!" Ron replied. Hermione's mouth opened and shut. Clearly she had been about to add that Dumbledore trusted Snape. "Snape, Dean, can we trust anyone? Our own house? The Order?" Harry asked softly. "You can trust us, Harry. You can trust me." Ginny took his hand in hers. Ron opened his mouth to continue the argument, but Ginny glared him down. Outside a storm raged but inside, for a time, there was peace. ~~ Harry was more than a little disturbed that Snape was seated at the head table with the other professors at breakfast the next morning. It was as if nothing had happened. Ron spent so much time shooting suspicious looks around that he barely had time to eat. He glared when Dean got an owl, but turned back to Snape when Dean burst out laughing and saying "Shalom, you nebbish." Harry would have been relieved if he hadn't heard his best friend muttering that it must be a code. As the last few owls trickled in, Hedwig landed beside Harry's plate. He handed her a piece of bacon and eagerly unrolled the note – he recognized Dumbledore's handwriting. Harry, Professor Snape has submitted to an examination of his wand and to questioning under Veritaserum. He has not cast a memory charm in almost six months, and he has explained that he merely saw the parchment at Miss Parkinson's place and assumed it was her notes. I am afraid we are no closer than before to determining who modified Mr. Thomas' memory and killed Draco Malfoy, or why these things were done. As Professor Snape assures me that there is no organized group of Voldemort's agents at Hogwarts (though he suspects that many of the children inform their parents of goings-on here), we must conclude that there is an unknown element here, its motives uncertain. I urge you to be cautious and recommend to your friends that they do the same. Albus Harry slumped in defeat. He had been so sure. Ron's eyes dropped to his plate, and he began eating rapidly. Hermione glared at him, as if daring him to say something. Ginny just squeezed Harry's hand. A few minutes later, they stood and walked to their first classes of the day. None of the four said a word. ~~ "Since you have had an entire summer without commitments, I am sure that you have all practiced your offensive and defensive spellwork." Dorfomt's opening statement in Defense Against the Dark Arts was answered by embarrassed silence. Aside from Hermione, who Harry was quite sure had practiced, and his own practice with Moody, he doubted anyone had practiced their spellwork. "I see from your reactions that most of you have not." Dorfomt continued grimly. He made eye contact with each member of the class in turn except for Harry, Hermione, and, to Harry's surprise, Neville. None of those he looked at held his gaze for long. "Perhaps you were under the impression that this is a game or a hobby. Let me remind you of something that the Daily Prophet's front page should not have let you forget; any of you may be attacked at any time. Your attacker will have the advantages of surprise, chosen ground, and most likely experience. Your only advantage will be that you are better in a fight than they suspect. Assuming that you are. "Miss Granger, I assume you have already read this year's assigned textbook?" "Err, yes Professor." "Excellent. I have not read any of it." Harry's mouth dropped open at this admission. He was far from alone. "This year's classroom time will be entirely oriented to preparing you to survive a hostile attack. You will study for the N.E.W.T.s, if you choose to, on your own time. The assigned textbook is the standard N.E.W.T. Defense text used in Britain and Western Europe. Therefore, just about any intelligent enemy you encounter will have read it. Some of you may recall that I am attempting to make you unpredictable. Each of you, this year, will develop your own combat style, which your opponents will not be able to look up in a book." "But, Professor," Harry started uncertainly. Dorfomt gestured for Harry to continue. "Um. Won't we need to pass our N.E.W.T.s if we want…? I mean, isn't that the point of school?" "In most subjects, Mr. Potter, your concern would be valid. However, this subject happens to be Defense Against the Dark Arts. Your N.E.W.T. exam may, if you so request, be by practical examination. To be precise, a duel with one of the examiners." Neville raised his hand. "Has anyone ever beaten one of the examiners, Professor?" Dorfomt nodded. "Yes, Mr. Longbottom. Five Hogwarts students have done so." Harry swallowed. Five? In the thousand-year history of the school? "However, that is a concern for the future. For the present, we will form in pairs for dueling. Since Miss Granger has read the book, she will duel with me." Hermione gulped. "Since Mr. Potter and Mr. Longbottom are the only others who have practiced this summer, they will duel each other. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Thomas…" Harry eyed Neville. On the one hand, he knew Neville wasn't a match for him. On the other hand, he had come a long, long way in the past few years. And, if Dorfomt was right, he'd been practicing too. For that matter, Harry hadn't actually dueled against Neville since their fifth year. He had no idea what he would try and that made him nervous. He began to understand why Dorfomt wanted them to be unpredictable – it was scary. "No Unforgivable Curses and no instantly lethal spells. We will hold the duels in rotation. Miss Granger, forward please." Hermione lasted for less than a minute before Dorfomt disarmed her. He took a moment to heal the cut on his arm and returned her wand. He then called Harry and Neville up front. "Begin!" "Expelliarmus!" "Stupefy!" The two jets of light sped towards each other, and Harry saw the last thing he expected to see. His wand began vibrating, and a beam of gold connected the two wands. His hand clenched involuntarily on his wand, but he barely noticed as a ball of ice formed in his stomach. He knew what was happening. It had happened in his fourth year after the Triwizard Tournament. "It's Voldemort!" Harry could vaguely hear shouting and see movement, but nothing would draw his attention from the being in front of him. Neville, no, not Neville, Voldemort, is trying to look scared, but he won't fool me. Even as the light splintered and formed the golden web about them he was summoning all his strength, determined that the beads of light would not touch his wand. Phoenix song filled the air, but it wasn't enough to lighten his heart. If Voldemort has come here to Hogwarts, the final battle is now. …must die at the hand of the other… How did he get in? What happened to Neville? Are there other Death Eaters disguised as students? A thousand thoughts competed for space in Harry's brain, but he drove them all down ruthlessly. Later there would be time for them. For now, there was only the fight. The glowing beads of light were moving slowly but steadily towards Voldemort now, and Harry smiled grimly. I've gotten better, and he hasn't. I bet he didn't expect that. The first bead of light had almost reached Voldemort's wand when, as if a switch had been thrown, everything went dark. The phoenix song faded out, leaving nothing but an echo. Absolute silence lasted for a pair of heartbeats and then a single grim voice cut through. "Lumos." Albus Dumbledore was illuminated by the light of his wand tip. "Reconcinno." The torches came back to life, and Harry took a moment to take in the scene around him. Ron and Hermione were flanking him, wands trained on Voldemort. Hermione was as white as a sheet and Ron's hand was shaking. The rest of the class had their backs to the wall furthest from the duel, wands out and expressions of terror on their faces. Dorfomt had his wand in his left hand, and his right was concealed in his robes. Dumbledore stood near the duelists, his wand tip lighting a face that appeared to be carved from stone. Harry fixed his attention on Voldemort. So. I won't be alone in this fight. Dumbledore is here and Ron and Hermione. I wish Ginny were here. No, I wish she were far away and safe. For that matter, I wish that I was with her. Dumbledore spoke again. "Your wand please, Mr. Longbottom." It isn't Neville, it's Voldemort! But Harry didn't dare speak aloud. Moody had taught him that distractions could kill. Shaking, Voldemort handed his wand to Dumbledore. It's a trick, Harry thought desperately. It has to be a trick! There's only one wand with the same core as mine! Harry spared a split-second to glance at Dumbledore, who was holding the wand very close to his face and examining it carefully. Shock, fear, and confusion condensed into horror as Dumbledore calmly handed the wand back. "My apologies, Mr. Longbottom. I should have warned you that this might happen." "What might happen, Professor?" Dorfomt's combat stance had not relaxed in the slightest. "Mr. Potter's wand has a Phoenix feather core. The same Phoenix that provided that feather provided the feather at the core of Voldemort's wand. Recently, that Phoenix gave a third feather. That feather is at the core of Mr. Longbottom's wand. When two brother wands are forced to duel," he gestured at the room around him. "There is an unusual result." "Mr. Potter stated that this was Voldemort," Dorfomt said flatly. "Two years ago, Mr. Potter's wand and Voldemort's wand were the only two sharing this core and I so informed him when he first encountered the effect. I neglected to mention either to him or Mr. Longbottom that…" Dorfomt's right hand emerged from his robes, holding a Muggle semi-automatic pistol. It was pointed right at Dumbledore's heart. His wand remained fixed on Neville. "I find it very difficult to believe that you would fail to mention that. Both of you. Drop your wands. Now." Harry's heart stopped. Dorfomt? Neville? Dumbledore? Voldemort? What's happening here? Is someone impersonating Dumbledore? Dumbledore raised his eyebrows but obediently let his wand fall to the ground. Trembling from head to toe, Neville did the same. "Both of you, into the corner. Slowly." Neville seemed rooted to the ground, but an abrupt gesture with the wand got him moving. Dumbledore moved calmly to the indicated corner of the room and waited, his hands at his side. "Mr. Weasley. My desk, second drawer on the right. Black vial marked with an uppercase theta. Conjure two cups of water and place five drops from the vial in each of them." Ron glanced at Harry, who merely looked back at him, bewildered. "Mr. Weasley!" barked Dorfomt. Ron did as he was instructed; nearly dropping one of the teacups he conjured. "Now use your wand to slide them to these two. Miss Granger, you have two seconds to point that wand elsewhere." Hermione jumped, and hastily directed her wand away from Dorfomt. Had she been doing it deliberately? Harry wondered. He wasn't sure where he should point his wand himself. "Each of you, drink." Dumbledore drank calmly. Neville had to steady himself against the wall to avoid spilling his, but began to visibly relax after he did so. "Mr. Weasley, summon the cups. Are they empty?" "Accio cups!" Ron managed to catch one and dropped his wand to catch the other. "Err, yes, sir." "Who are you?" Dorfomt asked, speaking slowly and clearly. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." "Neville Longbottom." Dorfomt lowered the pistol, but kept his wand aimed at the pair. He hesitated a moment. "Professor Dumbledore," he paused. "What did I say when you offered me a lemon drop?" "You said that you prefer chocolate," Dumbledore replied evenly. Dorfomt lowered his wand, and shoved it and the pistol back into his robes. He took the cups from Ron, drew another vial from his desk and poured half of it into each cup. He handed the cups to Dumbledore and Neville. "Drink." Dorfomt drew a deep breath as they both drank. "My apologies, sir. You understand that I needed to be sure. If there could be one imposter, there could be two." Dumbledore drained the cup and regarded him steadily. "I would have expected nothing else from you, Anthony," he replied calmly. Dorfomt winced as if Dumbledore had slapped him. "My apologies to you also, Mr. Longbottom." Neville was shaking again. Harry felt as though he was about to join him. Dumbledore glanced around the room. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, if you would please come with me. I believe there are some things to be explained, perhaps over a nice cup of tea. Anthony, if you would be so good as to provide some explanations for the rest of the class?" Dorfomt nodded curtly, and Dumbledore led the four shaken Gryffindors to his office. ~~ It was a very different Neville who left the Headmaster's office. He was shocked by all that he had learned and automatically sought out Luna to help him make sense of it. He found her in the library. "Luna? Can we talk?" She considered him gravely for a moment. "You mean actually talk, not snog, don't you?" Neville blushed and nodded. Luna considered him again and then nodded herself. "All right, then. Is this about what happened with you and Harry in Defense?" Neville's jaw dropped. "How do you know about that?" She smiled. "I don't, really, but the rumors are already flying. Did you know that rumors aren't just spread by people? There's also a magical breed of fly…" Neville knew better than to let her get started on that line. "I think it's important." Luna smiled. "Of course it is, Neville. Everything you have to say is important. You're important." Neville took a deep breath. "I think I'm starting to realize that." He knew it would take time to absorb everything he had learned today, but one thought was crystal clear. I have a wand that can immobilize He-Who… Voldemort's wand. And he doesn't know it. End Chapter 5 reconcinno -are [to restore, renovate, repair].
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