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Kjkit - Harry Potter and the Marcello School
Chapter 13 - First Training
Hi folks, I know I posted a lot in a short space of time, hence I haven't had that many reviews to respond to yet. I'd just like to thank Moony's Angel for being my first review – you don't know how big my smile was with your few simple words! Thanks also to TheDarkLadyOfRavenclaw – hope you get round to reading the rest soon, and SPASH Panther, glad you like it!
For Kyntor's questions from the first couple of chapters, to be honest I started writing this story back before OOTP came out, and whereas I've amended most of it to fit 6th year, I have forgotten one or two points – particularly the fact Malfoy was apprehended, though I might be able to amend that later. As for protective wards – The Big V took some of Harry's blood in GoF and was able to touch his face (I was aiming to replicate this through the door), and because the wards are blood-based, I thought Voldemort, with growing strength could get away with it. Besides, the DE's still couldn't get in very easily, it was Harry who smashed the windows and disapparated them away with his emotions (which were anger based, I'm sorry if I didn't get that across too well). Other than that, I hope you let me have a little rein of freedom, what's a little poetic license between writers? lol. Hope you enjoy the rest. Keep reviewing!
Chapter 13: First Training.
When Harry entered the training room, the first thing he noticed was how large it was. The second thing he noticed was that there was no furniture, and that he appeared to be the only one in there. He turned to ask Kat what he should do next, but with a start he found she was already closing the double doors, a small smile of support on her lips before she disappeared from view.
He looked back around at the room, and gently made his way into the centre of it, turning around slowly so he could get a panoramic view. The room was much more majestic than any of those at Hogwarts. It was the size of a concert hall, with high ceilings and no windows. Light came from a number of flame torches bracketed to the walls. Other than that the walls were bare, as was the stone floor and the dark ceiling. But even with it plainness the room was breathtaking just for its sheer size.
"First lesson!" a voice said sharply interrupting Harry's inspection of the hall. Harry spun to find himself staring at the tip of a silver blade. "Never make yourself a target!"
Harry followed the slight curve of the sharp weapon with his eyes until they met with the dark gaze of a boy only a couple of years older than himself. He was standing in an offensive pose, the arm holding the blade stretched out with the other hand held high beside his face, his palm facing Harry. His dark brown hair was cut short and was pushed back over his head reminding Harry of the feathers on the head of a bird.
"I'll bare that in mind" Harry calmly replied, though inside he was seething. The boy before him, though dark haired and dark eyed reminded Harry strongly of Draco Malfoy, and he put the resemblance down to the look in his eyes.
"I mean it, kid." The boy said, lowing his sword. "The students of this school will not think twice about embedding a knife into that unprotected back of yours."
Harry nodded. "First lesson learnt." He said.
The boy turned his head slightly. "We'll see." He said and passed Harry a white belt. "Wear it always," he said. "It informs the other students here that you are not yet sword trained. It should give you half of a chance."
"Why don't I like the way you said that?" Harry asked as he tied the belt around his waist.
"As I said." The boy replied. "It'll give you half a chance."
Harry's tutor sat himself down in the middle of the large room, sitting on his heels. "My name is Horus, a name derived from my animagus form of a Hawk." Harry mentally congratulated himself on recognising the similarities between the boy and his animagus form as he too took a seat on the floor. "The first thing you are going to learn is how to become an Animagus. From there we will be able to give you a name."
"My name is Harry."
"Using your own name isn't safe here. It provides to many links to the past. Too many people will make connections and you will be the one who comes off worse. It would be best if you forgot your past for the time being."
"Maybe I don't want to forget who I am." Harry said. "I didn't come here by choice."
"How do you know that?" Horus replied. "From what I've been told you apparated here, and to apparate you need be able to visualise a destination in your mind. You couldn't've just arrived here by accident, especially after your...friend did not arrive with you."
Harry glared at his tutor. "Look, lets just get on with it. The sooner I do this the sooner I can get back and make sure that my friends are okay. I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to"
"In such a hurry." The boy smirked, reminding Harry more and more of Malfoy. "You can't rush these things, kid. And if you want to train here then it is going to be rather a long time before you see your friends again."
Harry stared at him. "How long?"
Horus shrugged. "Depends on your determination." He said. "But don't mix determination with rushing. It'll just make everything take a lot longer. I suspect at least a year."
"A year! They'll all be dead by then!"
"Then maybe you should shut up and pay attention." Horus rose smoothly from the floor. "I shall return in a couple of hours when you have calmed yourself enough to listen to what I say. Remember, you are the one who is in a hurry to get out of here, and to do that you will have to prove to us that you are ready. I have all the time in the world, and don't you forget that, kid." The young master made his way across the room to the door.
"My name is Harry!" Harry shouted at the retreating figure. At the door, Horus turned around and shook his head.
"Not here it isn't." His quiet voice carried across the vast room, and before Harry could get to his feet to shout back he had gone, shutting the door behind him.
Harry looked around the room he was in, looking for something to let his anger out on. When he saw that there was nothing he screamed in frustration, slamming his fist into to floor before he pushed himself up and walked stiffly to the door.
Behind him, the old man walked from the corner shadows over to where the boy had been sitting and looked at the deep dent that had been left in the stone floor by his fist. He smiled slightly, gently rubbing his foot against stone and feeling the power that emanated from it. It was only a matter of time.