Harry Potter and the Junior Year Abroad
Professor TwoBears
By Ishtar
Chapter Twenty
Professor TwoBears
Harry, Blaise and Bart left breakfast early to get ready for the Vision Quest meeting on Saturday, but even so, they were not the first to get to the Student Center, which was the designated meeting area. Two boys a little younger than them, both Natives, were already there, and others joined them shortly afterward, including Justin. The group was mostly boys, but there were a couple of girls as well. To Harry's surprise, Michael Corner had signed up at the last minute, making it a clean sweep of all Hogwarts' boys, and Lavender had joined Susan in the girls' contingent. "Can't have a Hufflepuff going where a Gryffindor fears to tread," she said, winking at Harry. Harry rolled his eyes; Lavender had apparently absorbed nothing from yesterday's rant except his comment that she was pretty, and seemed to have started a campaign to become his girlfriend. He resolved to keep as many people between her and himself as possible.
By the time Professor TwoBears arrived, accompanied by a short, round Native American woman, there were about two dozen students waiting.
"Let's take advantage of the weather and go out back," said the muscular teacher, and he led them out to a wide lawn that spread out behind the building. "Pull up some grass and let's get started. Let me introduce myself. For those of you who aren't in my Clan or any of my classes, I'm Napayshni Greg TwoBears. You can call me Greg or 'Mr. TwoBears' if you absolutely must be formal. I'll be calling you by first names, no offense intended, that's the way I work. I teach Native traditional magic, lead this seminar twice a year, and I'm also the leader of the Dueling Club and coach both the junior and senior teams. I spent fifteen years in the United States Marines and I'm a fully trained shaman of the Lakota Nation — what most people call the Sioux. I also have emergency medical training in both the Mundane and Magical traditions. This is my wife, Wakanda. No last name, just Wakanda. She teaches Magical Zoology for the lower grades, and is the co-leader of the Vision Quest program. There are some aspects which are divided by gender, so she's the group leader for the girls." Wakanda waved merrily in greeting to the group.
Harry boggled slightly. He'd never thought of professors as having marriages or lives outside of school. He'd always supposed all the Hogwarts professors were single. Well, except for Professor Broomfield-Hill, but he'd never even met her before this trip; being Muggle-raised, he had had no interest in taking Muggle Studies. Most of the Professors were so old. The youngest was Snape, and he … the idea of Snape being married to anybody brought him up short. That was not a train of thought he wanted to follow. He forcibly brought his attention back to Professor … to Mister TwoBears.
"There are a lot of ways to screw up on a Vision Quest," the teacher was saying, "and over the years I've seen them all. Committed one or two myself. Stick with me and pay attention, and we'll make sure everyone gets through this in one piece."
While Mr. TwoBears spoke, he walked — no, he prowled around the circle, thoroughly looking over each student. "This program will be physically demanding. You'll be learning how to survive in the wilderness, not long-term, but for a few days, including finding water and making your own shelter. You'll be going without food, a bed, or clean clothes for several days. You will become intimately acquainted with dirt. You will be dealing with insects, critters and whatever creepy-crawlies live out in the woods in October. Your preparation will include sweat lodges; these are physically taxing and require nudity before members of your own gender, although we will be having separate lodges for male and female. There will be a Warrior's Circle, which tests your ability to withstand pain. Finally, the vision itself will be induced with magically enhanced psychotropic herbs, at least one of which is illegal in most of this country except in programs like this one. I can practically guarantee that every one of you will shed blood before this is over. I have not had a year where somebody didn't break something, and somebody didn't have to be rescued. We're on the very northern edge of the timber rattlesnake's range, so we don't get many, but as hot as it is, if there are any around, they'll be active now. They'll be in hibernation by the time of the Vision Quest weekend itself. While it's still warm, you'll have to be careful, or I'll wind up treating a snake bite as well. I've never yet lost anybody, but there's always a first time."
Harry flicked a glance around at the faces of the other students. Some were pale and wide-eyed, a couple of the others had that Yeah, you're just trying to scare us expression — the one he'd seen on Malfoy's face before the hippogriff proved him wrong.
"This is not a graded seminar. The only thing that will show up on your transcript is whether you completed it or not. There's no shame in dropping out; if anything, it shows that you know your limitations, and that's always a good thing to be aware of. You can back out now, or at any point in the program up until you start the Medicine. Once you take that, you're committed to the Quest."
Harry found himself wondering just how much Dumbledore actually knew about this program if he thought it "highly regarded"; it sounded "highly insane" to him.
"However, for those of you who see this through, there are tremendous benefits. You will have learned emergency survival techniques — not enough to be an expert, but enough to see you through in most circumstances. You will have learned some of your physical and magical limitations, and you may very well learn that you're capable of a lot more than you think. Those of you who are not familiar now with the magical techniques of Native peoples will gain cultural insights. And you'll all learn several new spells which may or may not be useful to you in later life. But the most important thing of all is that those of you who are successful have a chance to acquire a Spirit Guide. Who can tell me what that is?" Seemingly finished with prowling, Mr. TwoBears settled on a boulder.
Bart raised his hand, and the teacher nodded to acknowledge him. "According to Andrews, it's a spirit entity in the form of an animal which appears to help a person achieve a goal or learn a lesson. It can give advice but never tell the person what they should actually do. But Cameron indicates that it's an actual physical creature, and Meadows uses the term interchangeably with an 'animal totem', which I had thought was something different entirely."
"This is the problem with books," replied Mr. TwoBears. "Particularly books which are written by someone not fully conversant with a tradition. All of these are right, in their own way. But none is complete. To the Native, there is no break between the material world and the world of the spirit. Any individual creature around us is part of the Spirit of that creature. A rabbit is both that flesh-and-blood creature, and also part of the greater Spirit that is Rabbit." Somehow he managed to pronounce the capital letter. "To the older shamans, for whom the Vision Quest was an actual physical journey, any creature seen multiple times was obviously the physical manifestation of the Spiritual Guide, for most animals can successfully avoid being seen if they don't want to be. At least in forested areas like this. It's a little different out on the Great Plains. Since you'll be going on an inner Quest and not journeying physically, what you will be experiencing is the spirit form of your guide coming to you, and communication may take place in several ways; I'm not going to tell you how, exactly, because every person's experience is different. Once the Quest is over, if you see your Guide animal, particularly in unusual circumstances, you should pay attention to it; it's usually trying to get a message across. Your Guide may also appear in dreams."
"So is it the same as a Totem."
"No. A Totem is a Spirit which is with you permanently, a Guide is temporary. You can only have one Totem, but several Guides. A Totem Spirit is one to which you feel an affinity, usually from a very young age. It gives you power, sometimes in exchange for taboos. A common taboo, for instance, says that you must never eat the meat of your Totem animal. Another taboo is that you must only eat the meat of your totem animal. It is the fact of the taboo itself as a contract between you and the spirit, and your adherence to that contract, which is the empowering factor, not the specifics of the taboo."
"What sort of power can it give?" asked Blaise, curiously. Anything which could give additional power interested the Slytherin.
"If you go down to the stables, ask for Mark Edgewater, and he can tell you about it first-hand. He's not Native, but the Horse Spirit has been with him since he was old enough to get on a rocking horse. He's a Horse Whisperer, and the best rider I've ever seen. Horses take instruction from him easily, and he's more at home with them than with some people. If he ever took an animagus form, it would be a horse. The language ability to communicate with your Totem animal species is a common indication that you might have caught the interest of a Totem Spirit. Sometimes you get the ability to see visions, or a boost in magical power. They can teach you special spells which are unique to that Totem Spirit; often these must be kept secret, but sometimes they're intended to be taught to others. An example of this is the Jingle Dance ritual that started to be taught as a healing spell a generation or so ago. You can actually ask Totem Spirits for direct help in an emergency, but if this is done, be aware that there is always a price for the help a Totem gives."
Harry raised his hand hesitantly. "Does … does having a gift … like a language … automatically mean that's a Totem?"
"You mean did Mark's Horse Whispering automatically mean he had a Horse Totem? No, and having the Totem doesn't mean you automatically get the language, either. But if someone does have a language gift, and is strongly drawn to that creature, there's a good chance it's a Totem. If there's a question about it, the Vision Quest will sort it out."
"Just to confuse the matter," continued Mr. TwoBears, "it is quite possible for the same Spirit to appear as a Guide for a specific matter, and as a Totem for a lifetime. Additionally, because we are what we are, magical creatures unknown to Mundanes can appear both as Totems and as Spirit Guides."
"Is there any way to predict what animal a Guide will be?" asked Lavender.
Mr. TwoBears' lips twitched. "Somebody always asks that. Everybody tries to guess. Some people get it, some don't. If you want, the group of you can make a list of who thinks they'll get what Guide, and then compare it with what actually comes. Usually the ones that do get it are the ones who are clearest about what sort of guidance they need. Some people try to 'demand' a particular creature because they think it's 'cool' or think one kind of animal is 'better' than another. That doesn't work. It's best to just keep yourself open to possibilities and take what comes. The Spirits know what we need better than we do ourselves."
"Is one kind of animal better than another?" That was from a Bear Clan student Harry didn't know.
"Nope. Every sort of animal is necessary to the ordering of the world, and there is no good or evil, better or worse, to them. A Beetle Spirit Guide is as powerful as a Bear to the one who needs it." Mr. TwoBears rose from the rock he'd been sitting on. "Now that you've got something to chew on mentally, I'm going to give you something to work on physically. If you'll come with me, we'll go over to the Loon Clan Lodge and into the woods from there. We'll start with teaching you how to find water, both with spells and the Mundane way, and how to build a shelter. These are the most basic survival skills you'll need anywhere."
Three hours later, Harry knew two new spells and had learned how to make a divining rod to find water. He also knew three kinds of trees that indicated water was nearby, two kinds of animals to follow to find water, and where to dig for water if a stream or riverbed was dry. Mr. TwoBears obviously expected his students to retain this without the aid of writing it down, and Harry knew that he, at least, would be hitting his journals as soon as the session was over so that he could record as much as he could while it was still fresh in his mind.
He and Bart were cutting saplings with which to build a lean-to shelter, when he heard a buzzing noise and a thin, hissing voice from the brush. "Get away! Get away from my sunning spot!"
Bart had apparently noticed nothing, whistling as he trimmed branches from a sapling he'd cut. A branch fell and Harry noticed movement in the bushes just behind it. Something serpentine, swaying, coiled to strike … "Bart," he said in a conversational tone.
"What?"
"Don't move for a second, okay? At all? Particularly not your left foot?"
Bart froze.
Harry automatically slipped into Parseltongue. "Hsssst. Friend snake. Would you mind terribly not striking my companion?"
"He is dropping branches on my sunning spot."
"I will get him to stop. I will move the branches if you don't strike."
"Harry, what's going on?" Bart stayed frozen where he was, hearing only hissing from behind him. Mr. TwoBears, noticing his unnatural rigidity, started over towards them. Harry held up one hand to stop him, and was surprised when he did stop immediately.
"Snake," he said. "I'm having a word with it. Bart, it's in the bushes about eighteen inches from your left foot. You're dropping branches on its sunning spot and it's upset. I'm trying to talk to it, so don't move." The shift back to Parseltongue was effortless. "Friend snake. He will stop."
The snake came to a decision. "I will not strike."
"Bart, move your foot away from the bushes. He won't strike." Bart complied very carefully. "Good. A little farther away now. Don't drop any more of your sticks. Okay, you're out of range." Relaxing now, he spoke to the snake again. "I will move the branches now."
"Sssssss" said the snake in agreement, relaxing its position a little. Harry slowly reached forward and grabbed the cut ends of the branches and pulled them away from the sunny flat spot the snake claimed for its own.
"See. The sunning spot is yours again." The snake slithered forward just enough to see, and could now be clearly seen in turn. Bart turned pale as he took in the size of the timber rattler. "I think if we just go away from this area for a bit, the snake will calm down," said Harry. "Are you all right?"
"I just, um, yeah, I'm all right," Bart managed. He walked backwards a few feet, bumped directly into Mr. TwoBears' chest, gave a startled yelp and spun around. He would have fallen if the teacher hadn't grabbed his arms to steady him.
"Did it bite you, Bart?"
"No, no, it didn't, did it?" Showing all the signs of delayed panic, Bart looked down at his feet to make sure he didn't have a snake hanging off his ankle. "No," he said again, more firmly.
"Harry. You okay over there?"
Harry was backing away slowly from the snake, though he was now more than a safe distance away. "I think we'll be okay, sir, as long as we don't bother it any more." He turned and realized that there was now quite an audience, and flushed to his hairline.
TwoBears turned and shooed away the students who had gathered, attracted by the "show". "Get back to work there. And be careful where you put your feet." The work moved, by general agreement, to the far side of the site. Mr. TwoBears pulled Bart and Harry aside. "Bart, you need to sit down for a while. You're on an adrenaline rush and you're about to crash."
Bart obediently sat on the ground under a tree, hypervigilantly if belatedly checking all about himself for snakes. He was already beginning to feel shaky.
"Harry, that was a good play there. You have good instincts. I take it that wasn't your first encounter with a venomous snake?"
"No, sir."
"I didn't think you had those in Britain."
"We don't, much. Someone cast a serpensortia during a dueling lesson and summoned a cobra from God knows where. I had to keep it from biting a spectator. It was pretty angry."
"I imagine it would have been. Animals generally don't like being summoned. It confuses them. It's good to know there's a Parselmouth around. There aren't nearly enough of you."
Harry was surprised that the man sounded approving. "Excuse me? I mean, enough of … I'm sorry, I don't know what I mean. Sir." Flustered, he completely lost control of his sentence and let it stutter to a halt.
"Well, I see eloquence in English is not your strong point. I'm glad you are more effective in Snake. I think both of you are pretty badly shaken up. I want you two to stay put here for a few minutes. When you're feeling a little better, Bart, go back up to the Lodge, and Harry, you go with him and keep an eye on him. Try to relax a little bit yourself, you're wound up tight. We'll be breaking for lunch soon, and I want to see you both in my office then." The tall teacher turned and strode back towards the other students' worksites, to explain to Lavender and Susan why their entire lean-to had just come down on their heads.
Bart was still wobbly when they got up to the lodge, and collapsed on one of the sofas. Harry fed a few coins into the vending machine in the corner and got him a ginger beer, claiming a birch beer for himself (neither was as good as butterbeer, but they were better than nothing).
"Thanks," said Bart, accepting the spicy beverage. "I think that was enough excitement for the next month, how about you?"
"More than enough."
"Lucky thing, huh? You speaking Parseltongue, I mean?"
"Lucky for you." Harry shrugged. "Can't say it's done much but get me in trouble." Bart looked at him quizzically. "Parselmouths aren't regarded with much favor in Britain," Harry explained. "Most of the Dark Wizards we've had have been associated with snakes one way or another, and the only other Parselmouth known to be alive right now is the Darkest of the lot. So people assume …"
"And you're assuming yourself," said Bart, "if you're distrusting your own gift because of it. Most of us would give our eyeteeth for a talent like that. But if you're really concerned about it, why don't you talk to Anna about it? Gillespie, I mean, my counterpart from the witches' side at Salem. She's a Parselmouth too. Wears that snake familiar of hers like a necklace most of the time and carries on conversations with it. It was a little disconcerting at first, but after five years, everybody's used to it. I'll introduce you if you want."
"Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice, I think. Thank you." Harry didn't for a minute believe it was that simple. He distrusted the Parseltongue ability for good reason, given where it came from. Still, it might be useful to talk to someone else about it.
They sat and nursed their drinks in silence for a bit. The silence was beginning to become oppressive when Mr. TwoBears led the rest of the Vision Quest group into the lodge. "How are you doing now, Bart? A little bit less shaky?"
"Yes, sir. I'm fine now."
"Glad to hear it. Harry, you okay?"
"I'm fine, sir."
Mr. TwoBears turned to face the rest of the students. "You heard? They're both fine. Now all you ghouls can knock off and go have lunch and do whatever else you were going to do this afternoon. I don't want to hear about anyone pestering Harry or Bart about this morning. If either of them wants to talk about it, they will. If they don't, they don't. Now scram!" He shooed them out of the Lodge. Lavender made a concerted effort to stay, but Susan took her by one arm and Justin by the other, and they gently escorted her over to the Flash platform.
Mr. TwoBars turned back to Harry and Bart. "Okay, now that the requisite macho posturing is out of the way, how are you doing really?"
"I meant it, I'm fine. Maybe a little tired now, is all."
"I'm not surprised. You weren't injured, but your body was all ready to deal with a crisis. Now the crisis is over, it needs some rest. I'd advise a light lunch and then no exertion for the rest of the day. Take a nap if you feel you need it. You may find side effects of the experience popping up for a while. I'm concerned about nightmares in particular. If you need to, you can get something to help you sleep for the next few nights from the infirmary."
"I have some tea I brought from home that's good for nightmares," said Harry. "You can try some of that if you like. Tastes like lemon; better than potions. And it doesn't leave you feeling all logy in the morning."
"Yeah, but does it work?" asked Bart with a smile.
"I haven't waked you up in the middle of the night, have I?" replied Harry. "It works."
Mr. TwoBears frowned. "If you're been taking an herbal preparation or potion on a regular basis, the infirmary should be informed, Harry. There can be interactions and it should be on your medical records. It would be a good idea for you to take a sample of your tea over there so their Potions people can check it out before Bart tries it."
"That makes sense. I'll do that later," said Harry, now wishing he'd not said anything in the first place.
"Good. I've been wanting to talk to both of you at some point, you know. Since I've got you both here, would you mind?"
The boys glanced at each other, then warily agreed.
"Harry, you can wait here while I talk to Bart in my office, and then it will be your turn. It shouldn't take too long."
Left to his own devices for the moment, Harry prowled the common room of the Lodge looking for something interesting to do, since having a staring contest with the antelope head mounted over the door held no appeal. There were several bookcases stuffed with both Wizarding leather-bound books and Muggle paperbacks on a variety of subjects, most of which he knew nothing about. So he decided to pick a book at random, playing one of those playground counting games that children use to choose up sides for sports (but always leaving out that weird kid with the glasses and baggy clothes, of course), choosing first the bookcase, then the shelf, then the book from the shelf, and found himself perusing a work for young readers about famous players of baseball. He'd finished his birch beer and still didn't understand the rules of the game, but thought he was beginning to understand Lou Gehrig, when the door to Mr. TwoBears' office opened and Bart came back out.
"Your turn," he said. "I'm going to go grab some lunch. Want something?" Harry's rumbling stomach reminded him that everybody else had gone off to eat at the Clan Lodges or the guest lodge; he could hear the laughter of the other Loon Clan students echoing down the hall that connected the common room and the dining room.
"No, I'll get something when I'm done, thanks."
Bart nodded. "I'll bring my sandwich back here and wait for you." His tone told Harry that there was no point in arguing this; Bart would wait, and that was all there was to it.
Harry reshelved his book and trudged into the office. Mr. TwoBears was standing at a filing cabinet, pulling a green folder out of it. "Have a seat, Harry."
Like Agatha Stone's office, there was a choice of seating, ranging from a chair in front of Mr. TwoBears' desk to an armchair to a low, comfortable sofa that would seat two, or three if they were friendly. Harry took one end of the sofa, and Mr. TwoBears chose the armchair.
"I assume that's my transcript?" said Harry, nodding at the file.
"Yes, it is. Your school sent over transcripts for all of you when we were deciding whether or not to participate in this program. I reviewed it closely when you became part of my Clan. I'll admit I'm rather puzzled by some of the things it says — or, rather, doesn't say."
"Such as?" Harry asked. He was wondering just how badly his file had been edited.
Mr. TwoBears flipped through the pages in the file. "I have nothing here about your early education or family history — it's as if you sprang into being at the age of eleven. Your grade history is acceptable — better than average in those subjects that grab your attention, average in most, below average in those that don't grab your interest. The only odd element is that the dichotomy between your Potions grade and your standardized testing is rather extreme, but I assume Doctor Rozendal will be talking to you about that. Your disciplinary record is checkered — there's a fair number of minor infractions, a couple of major ones, but also some citations for excellence for what seem to be related events. Your participation in the Tri-Wizard Tournament you had over there is noted; there seems to have been some irregularity about your being school Champion? But the fact that you won speaks wonders for you. And you independently saw the need for, and headed up, a study group for your defense class last year. You also have citations from your first and second year, but the circumstances aren't in the file — just 'meritorious service to the school.' Your medical file was more complete, and you can expect some questions about it over at the infirmary — you had some major injuries around the dates of those 'meritorious services'. The fact that you are a Parselmouth was not on the records, for some reason. I was just checking to see if I'd missed it, but it's not there at all. There was a notation about the recent death of a family member under dubious circumstances, followed by adoption to a new family; that's bound to be stressful. Have you received any counseling about that?"
Harry shook his head. He didn't think he'd be able to answer safely.
"Idiots," said Mr. TwoBears, making his own note in the file. "I can help you with that if you like, or you can ask at the infirmary and they'll recommend a counselor for you. It's up to you, of course. You're more than old enough to make your own decisions." He closed the file. "I can make a copy of this for you if you want."
"You can do that?"
"Of course. They are, after all, your records and you're entitled to see them." He set the file aside. "And then, of course, there's the fact that you're who you are, a central figure in recent British events."
Harry made a face in disgust.
"And apparently not too happy with that distinction, I see. Unfortunately, it's something you're going to have to live with, and possibly that's another reason to get some counseling. I did some research on you when this program was proposed, and that's even more confusing than your scholastic record. The British Ministry is extremely secretive about its records — we know more about what's happening in Rwanda than in England these days. The scholarly works aren't much better. There has been a lot of speculation about the fall of Voldemort, but very little solid work in the historical or theoretical areas. Most of what's in the histories comes from the press — and if I went by what's in the press, I'd assume there are at least four different Harry Potters attending Hogwarts right now."
"I wish there were; maybe one of them could have taken History of Magic for me."
"I'm sure. The interview you gave last year for the Prophet is the only direct testimonial material we have. After you've had a chance to settle in, you can probably expect some discreet inquiries from historians wanting your perspective for the journals; you're the only primary source there is."
"I gave that interview for the Quibbler, really. It's published by the father of a friend of mine. The Prophet reprinted it a few months later and passed it off as an exclusive."
"You see, we didn't even know that; that statement alone will warrant footnotes. Your friends may also be contacted by people wanting their views as well. You may want to warn them about it." Harry put his face in his hands. He really didn't want to think about all this, but Mr. TwoBears was relentless. "Add to that the fact that your school seems to have selected students for this program who are compatible with you, rather than your best students — which makes me think Hogwarts may be in for a bit of a shock in dealing with our students. Cheveyo is one of my best, and your school may not be ready for him. Finally, throw in a note from your headmaster stating that you have 'special needs' and asking that we support you in any way possible, without specifying what those special needs are, and we have quite an enigma."
Harry looked up sharply. "And I suppose you people aren't going to rest until you've solved it."
"Nope. You're entitled to your privacy. You'll get the inquiries, but we do take 'no' for an answer. Be some disappointed history buffs, though. If you want to talk to someone, or ask for help, you'll get it. But if you want to get up and leave this office right now and never say anything more to me about it, that's fine too."
"You would really…?"
"I would really. You're not an obvious danger to yourself or anyone else, so there's no reason for me to try to interfere in your life. Though I'd be happy to give you some unsolicited advice if you want."
"Go ahead."
"You've been placed in the Loon Clan for a reason. You're in a war situation at home, and you seem to be forced to take a prominent position no matter what you do. You have a choice of roles you can take at this point; you can be a Warrior or you can be a Chief. They both have advantages and disadvantages. As a Warrior you go where someone else says to go, do what they say to do, if necessary die where they tell you to die. You let someone else make the big decisions, and the only actions you take responsibility for are your own. As a Chief your physical risks are reduced, although you may still find yourself in the path of danger; you have to consider the larger picture and realize that sometimes other people are going to get hurt and even die. You can't save everyone. What you can do is keep the losses restricted as much as possible to those who have chosen to be Warriors alongside you and protect the noncombatants. It's a harder path, but ultimately satisfying."
"I think I've been a Warrior all my life. I keep falling into things and barely making it out with my skin intact, and I know, somehow, but I can never prove it, that I'm being steered into them. This year, this trip, was supposedly voluntary, but I was also given an assignment, and if I don't do it, if I'm not successful, it will hurt other people. Maybe my friends. It's my responsibility."
"One that weighs heavily on you, I can see. Whatever this assignment is, you believe it is yours alone, and you face it as a Warrior. But you might take a better look at it, and see if it really is a Warrior's job, or a Chief's. If it's a Chief's task, then a Warrior acting alone will fail where the Chief may succeed."
"And if it is a Chief's job?"
"Then you decide if you want to be a Chief. If you want to remain a Warrior, you hand that job right back to the person who gave it to you, but be aware that you will probably never be trusted with the responsibility of decision-making again. If you want to become a Chief, make the choice consciously and start assembling your warband."
"I don't know what kind of task it is. How can I tell?"
"You could ask for assistance."
Mr. TwoBears stretched his long legs out, crossing them at the ankle, and waited impassively. Harry had the feeling this man could outwait a mountain if he tried. He tried to marshal thoughts which were flitting around the inside of his head like birds. At one moment, he heard Hermione's voice, saying, "Nothing in the Prophecy says you have to do it alone. You don't need to do it all alone. That's what friends are for." The next, he heard Dumbledore's grave words, "If you go up against the Dark Lord with only your Hogwarts education, you are likely to lose," with their implication that it was he, and he alone, who would stand against Voldemort. But the more Harry envisioned what the final conflict might be like, he realized that he, and possibly Dumbledore, had forgotten something very important. The Death Eaters. Voldemort would not be coming alone to the fight; he would have support. Harry had no idea how many Death Eaters there actually were, but he was sure there were more than he'd be able to fight alone. If the Prophecy was true, they couldn't kill him, but he was sure they'd be able to capture him and then Voldemort himself could deal with him. Even if by some miracle he killed Voldemort, they could overpower him afterwards. He needed to do something about the Death Eaters.
"I can't do it alone. He won't do it alone. So I can't either. Not if I want to survive," Harry said, putting it together.
"He?"
"Voldemort." Harry sighed, making his decision. "Do you believe in Prophecies, sir?"
"There are enough in our history that I have to say I do, although I've never met someone who's been bedeviled with one."
"Until now," Harry said, grinning weakly. "I got stuck with one before I was even born, and now I'm the only one that has a chance of killing Voldemort. But there's just as much chance that he'll kill me. And he's at least sixty years older than me and has lots of followers who will probably be extremely angry with me if I do kill him. So I guess I can't be doing it all myself."
"Why would you ever think you needed to?" asked Mr. TwoBears with some surprise. "Dark Lords always take more than one person to bring down. A Chief and warband, King and knights, however it's organized, there's always a leader and some support. Or haven't you been paying attention in History of Magic?"
Harry tapped the folder with his records in it. "Not my best subject, remember, sir? But I'd have paid attention if we had been taught anything about Dark Lords. All we got is Goblin Wars, Giant Wars, Troll Wars, a couple of Vampire Suppressions … that sort of thing. Nothing useful. Nothing even in this century."
"Great Spirit, it's a wonder your whole country isn't speaking German right now," muttered Mr. TwoBears. He rose and went to the tall bookcase in one corner of the room, pulling down a green leather-covered book, which he handed to Harry.
The boy looked at the title, which was printed in gold lettering on the cover. Rise and Fall: A History of The Dark Lords, Bolek Fetter III, Ed. He flipped it open and looked at the table of contents. There was an extensive list of names, organized by historical period and geographical area, then by approximate dates of reign. The contents went on for several pages. "This book doesn't seem thick enough to have much information on each of these," Harry said in a puzzled tone.
"This is the portable version. It has the table of contents and the index available at all times, and allows you to summon the rest at need. The full set of books would take up a full bookcase," said Mr. TwoBears. "Pick one you'd like to look at and tap it with your index finger or wand." Harry did so, and gasped as the book became much thicker and heavier. It now contained a lengthy treatise on the Dark Lady Morgan Le Fay. The text was in a rather antiquated mode, with an introductory summary and numerous footnotes. Some words or passages were printed in red ink. "The red type means there's more information available, usually as a sidebar article. Tap that and it pops up, tap it again and it disappears." The sidebar articles appeared to explain things in a more modern fashion, and Harry thought they would be more useful than the main text. "It will stay like this until you either select another heading, or tap the title on the front cover to return it to its original format. The index is easier to use if you're looking for specific information; that only brings up the relevant pages when you tap the entry, and then if you read beyond that point it will bring up the following pages as you go. The material is self-updating, so it always has the most current version."
"This is amazing. I've never seen a book that works like this before."
"Portable books are quite new; they became practical to produce only a few years ago. The basic idea came from a Mundane computer technology called hypertext. We expect it to revolutionize research."
"My friend Hermione would love these," said Harry. "Can you do any kind of book in one?"
"They're most practical for the huge multi-volume sets, encyclopedias, academic journals, and so forth," said the tall teacher. "I think I read about somebody trying to put his whole family library in one, but the time and cost are prohibitive for most people. Why don't you borrow that for a few days and look through it? You can familiarize yourself with some of the ways Dark Lords have been brought down in the past … and some of the ways they haven't. You might find it particularly interesting to look at the last three entries in the Modern European section."
Harry shrank the book again to get rid of Morgan Le Fay, who was waving at him from a reproduction woodblock print, and then checked the table of contents. The last three volumes were headed Grindelwald/Dumbledore (1936-1945), I Voldemort/Dumbledore-Potter (1969-1981), and II Voldemort/Dumbledore-Potter? (1995-?). The Grindelwald volume was thicker than both Voldemort sections combined, and all three together were thinner than the one on Morgan had been. "There's already a volume for him coming back?"
"It's kind of slim, as you've noticed. Sometime during his first reign, the British Ministry decided to control the amount of information made available to the public through the press and academics, in an effort to prevent panic. They thought highly enough of the results that they've continued suppressing information and isolating Britain from the international community. The result is that most of the information we have on the second reign is second-hand, or speculation. It's mostly based on news articles, so obviously that part will be changed drastically as things happen. We already know how unreliable the popular press is. As a matter of fact, I'm sure the editor will be one of the people begging you for an interview."
It was getting on toward afternoon, so Mr. TwoBears released Harry so he could go get some lunch, reminding him to take some of his tea mixture over to the Infirmary. Bart was now sprawled, sound asleep, on the common room sofa, the remains of his lunch on a plate on the floor beside him, and two younger students were debating the best means of getting him off the sofa so they could sit on part of it: wake him up and ask him to sit up, or levitate him and stick him to the ceiling. Harry solved their dilemma by waking Bart up and dragging him off, first to scavenge a sandwich from what was left of the lunch buffet, then getting them both onto the Flash platform to go back to the Guest Lodge.
By that time, of course, Bart was awake again, at least enough to participate in the inevitable question-and-answer period at the Lodge. At length, however, Harry found himself sitting on the sofa with Bart on his right, Blaise on his left, and Justin hanging over the back, showing them how the Dark Lords book worked.
"You know, I've always wondered how Dumbledore did defeat Grindelwald," said Blaise. "Everyone knows he did it, but nobody talks about how. Can we take a look at that?"
Harry obligingly called up that volume, and they looked at the summary, skimming until they found the information they needed. "Okay, it looks like he was part of a group, or rather two groups. The first broke through the outer defenses of Grindelwald's castle, and then a strike team went in to deal with Grindelwald himself." He tapped the heading about the team, and the picture of Dumbledore with his everpresent twinkle vanished from the left page, replaced by two photographs of groups of wizards in a mixture of combat robes and Muggle fatigues. Next to each picture was a list of names in the group. In the front of the second group stood Dumbledore, in knee-length grey robes over Muggle trousers and boots, his beard and hair both trimmed much shorter than Harry had ever seen them. His group looked grim, serious, and determined. There was a flicker of motion in the picture, and Harry saw a familiar profile of someone in the back rank. Harry tapped the image of Dumbledore on the chest, and it grudgingly moved out of the way, revealing a young man, clad in a similar robe/trousers combination and wearing a British-style combat helmet, sitting in the passenger seat of a Jeep. "Holy shit!" Harry breathed, allowing himself a rare expletive.
"Who is that, Harry?" asked Justin, since Harry's hand was currently blocking his view of the list of names.
"That, my friend, is the enemy himself." Harry moved his hand and tapped on a name, and the picture zoomed in for a closer look. The young wizard glared out at them icily. Even then, he had that "master of all I survey" attitude, Harry noted. "Take a look at one T.M. Riddle. The future Lord Voldemort."