A New Place to Stay Chapter 36 - Harry Potter

While Dumbledore fumes at Grimmauld Place over lost control, vanished Dursleys, and a silent Harry, Sirius finally learns that the Golden Trio has fallen out and that his godson is no longer confiding in him. Back at Hogwarts, Severus Snape uses the quiet of the holidays to plan the next subtle strike against Umbridge with Dobby’s help and to rethink how he will train Harry to survive, not die a martyr. In the Room of Requirement, Harry turns theory into action, drilling Neville and Luna in Expelliarmus, Confringo, and Muggle fighting so they will not freeze if they lose their wands. Neville surprises everyone with a strong disarming spell, Luna signs on for both magic and punches, and by the end of the session Harry has a new morning running partner, a clearer idea of how to build a real fighting force, and a fierce determination to keep his basilisk familiar Balthazar where he belongs, close and protected.

Transcript

**Chapter 36: Conversations, Training, and Friendships**

As soon as the Order meeting concluded, everyone hurried out, relieved to escape the tense atmosphere. Dumbledore's fury lingered, even if he didn’t show it outright.

They could feel it; he wasn’t his usual cheerful self. The most telling sign was the absence of his familiar twinkle in his eyes.

He had every reason to be upset; his carefully laid plans were unraveling at an alarming rate. Dumbledore hated when things didn’t go as he intended.

First, the Death Eaters had discovered where Harry lived, forcing him to relocate the boy. Then the Dursleys had vanished or been captured after stepping outside the safety of their protective wards.

To make matters worse, the Ministry had attacked Harry at Prince Manor, and the boy hadn’t used magic to defend himself, putting at risk all of Dumbledore’s efforts to keep him alive for a greater purpose. To add to his frustrations, Harry had fallen out with Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.

While he didn’t care much about Granger, he had hoped Harry would bond with Ron. Ron was eager to prove himself better than his brothers, which was why he never hesitated to embark on adventures to save the school or a family member.

Dumbledore had felt anger when Ron left Harry alone during his moment of greatest need, but he was grateful when they reconciled. Now, however, the prophecy had been stolen, and Voldemort was aware of it.

Dumbledore had hoped the Dark Lord would never find out. The obsession with killing Harry was already consuming him, and now he would also fixate on the contents of the prophecy.

"Sirius, has Harry been in touch?" Albus asked the canine Animagus, who, as always, felt trapped and despondent. He was weary of being confined to a house he despised, failing to realize that without it, he’d be back in Azkaban.

His ungratefulness and childishness stemmed from never having the chance to truly grow up; Azkaban wasn’t a place conducive to such development. "Yes," Sirius replied, his voice heavy.

"He thanked me for his Christmas gift."

"Gifts," Sirius said, eager to talk about his godson and anyone else who would listen. He knew that soon he would be stuck in the house alone, with only his mother to keep him company, and she took great pleasure in reminding him how much she despised him and how disappointed she was.

"How is he?" Dumbledore asked. "He's fine; glad to be back at Hogwarts, no doubt… I'm surprised he didn’t come, though," Sirius replied, a frown creasing his forehead.

"I mean, Ron and Hermione came, and they've been rather quiet too."

"Hasn't Harry told you that the three of them have fallen out?" Dumbledore inquired. So Harry wasn’t confiding in his godfather anymore—that had changed.

Harry had always turned to Sirius for support, which was why he had kept the Animagus close. Sirius was usually the first to know what was happening in Harry's life, able to keep an eye on him without the teenager even realizing it.

"What? Why?" Sirius asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

He was sitting in one of the old chairs that had come with Grimmauld Place when they had cast the Fidelius charm. The entire house was falling apart, filled with Dark artifacts and all sorts of magical pests.

Thankfully, most of the pests were gone; Molly had taken it upon herself to clean the place up, declaring that if her children were going to be there, she would at least make it safe for them. The Doxies and Boggarts had disappeared, along with many of the more dangerous objects lying around.

It was clear why Sirius disliked living there, but anyone would agree it was better than Azkaban. Well, maybe not Sirius Black; the Animagus couldn’t wait to escape.

"I have no idea; I had hoped you would," Dumbledore replied, sensing that he might be part of the problem. The argument they had in Grimmauld Place flashed through his mind.

Surely Harry wouldn’t have severed four years of friendship just because Dumbledore had advised the teenagers not to stay in touch. Sirius frowned in concern.

"No, I had no idea he had fallen out with them. It makes sense why he didn't come now." The three of them had always been close—very close—just as he had been with James and Remus.

He refused to think about Peter Pettigrew. "Has Harry had any more dreams lately?" Dumbledore asked, getting to the main reason for their conversation.

"No, nothing like that," Sirius replied, shaking his head. "The last one was before he came back." He felt deeply disturbed after reading Harry's letter and had gone straight to Dumbledore for advice.

He had responded to Harry as quickly as possible, leaving out much of what Dumbledore had shared with him—though it hadn't been much. Dumbledore wasn’t one to give away information easily; he expected to be told everything but often withheld details in return.

"Just as he said," Dumbledore muttered quietly. He had hoped Harry would have more dreams or visions, as he knew they were connected to Voldemort through the Horcrux.

"You spoke to him?" Sirius asked, his voice filled with hope. "I have indeed," Dumbledore admitted.

"I'm sorry, Sirius, but I must get back to Hogwarts. I can't be gone too long." Having achieved what he needed, he was eager to leave this place, which felt decrepit and filthy—far from the clean, orderly office he preferred at Hogwarts.

"All right," Sirius said sulkily. He hated being stuck there alone; he wished he could go to Hogwarts to be with Harry.

In fact, he would have preferred to go to Hagrid's and live as a stray dog. "Goodbye, Sirius," Dumbledore said, preparing to Floo out of the building.

"Let me know if Harry gets in touch." Before Sirius could respond, Dumbledore was gone. "Dobby?" Severus called.

Severus called out as he settled into his living room, relieved that the holidays had finally arrived. Tonight, he planned to turn in early.

With no duties to patrol the halls and no detentions to oversee, he had the rare opportunity for a restful evening. It had been a long and exhausting day, and he was eager for it to come to an end.

His training plans for Harry had taken a significant downturn; he needed to prepare Harry properly. This was no longer just about survival; it was about training him to kill.

Severus wasn’t pleased with this reality, but he would rather see Harry survive and fight than perish as a martyr. He had to make Harry understand that there was no clear line between light and dark magic; it all depended on the intention behind it.

Unsure of how Harry felt about magic in general, he knew he needed to discuss it with him. “Yes, sir?” Dobby replied, his eyes sparkling with hope and a hint of mischief.

He loved being summoned by Severus, as it often meant he was tasked with the most devious assignments, particularly aimed at Umbridge. Severus leaned down, whispering instructions to the house-elf.

Dobby’s eyes widened in surprise at the orders he received. An uncertain expression crossed his face, but when Severus whispered something else, a determined look replaced it.

Nodding vigorously, Dobby Apparated away, a scheming glint in his eyes. “Alright then, tell me what spells you know, but not what we learned in Defense,” Harry insisted as they entered the Room of Requirement.

The spacious training arena was well-padded, designed to minimize injuries during practice. Harry wanted to avoid explaining any injuries to Madam Pomfrey.

“Not much; I’ve only read a few chapters in the book,” Neville admitted, looking guilty. “Disarming charm?” Harry asked, recalling it as one of the first spells covered.

Neville nodded, confirming he had learned it on his own, though it was clear he hadn’t practiced it much. “I’ve learned the—”

"I know the basics, but I haven't performed it yet," Neville said.

"I've done the same," Luna added. "Alright, Neville, give me your best," Harry said, stepping five feet away from him.

Luna moved to the side, watching them with her mysterious blue eyes. Sometimes, when she looked at him, Harry thought he detected a hint of surprise on her face.

He realized that was just her natural expression, and he didn’t think any less of her for it. He also noticed her corkscrew necklace with curiosity.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked, standing and facing Harry, looking quite alarmed. "Disarm me," Harry instructed.

"What did you think we would be doing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Neville. "Okay," Neville replied, looking a little flustered.

This wasn't what he had expected. He thought Harry would show him spells, not have Neville perform them on him!

It made sense now why there were mats and blue walls; they would protect anyone from getting hurt, especially him—he wasn't anywhere near Harry's level. "Expelliarmus!" Neville cried, aiming for Harry's wand.

Harry held on tightly, but it went flying out of his grip. He couldn’t deny he was very surprised.

Neville was either more powerful than he let on, or he had been paying close attention to the spell instructions. "Well done," Harry praised, unable to hide his impressed expression.

"But don’t think that just because I was disarmed, I’m defeated."

With that, he swung his legs out, and Neville suddenly found himself staring at the ceiling of the room. Shock coursed through him; he hadn’t expected Harry to do that.

"Duly noted," Neville said, looking up at Harry, who was standing above him with an amused expression. Adrenaline surged, and he flushed in embarrassment as Luna giggled at their exchange.

"Why did you do that?" Neville asked as he got back to his feet. "Don't you know how to fight?" Harry asked, looking at Neville as if he were confused.

Neville didn’t reply; he just stared at Harry, wondering if he had lost his mind. "What do you do when you've..."

“Been disarmed?” Harry eventually asked, his voice tinged with exasperation.

“Run?” Neville ventured, glancing at Luna for help. He was unsure what Harry meant.

“Oh, for heaven's sake,” Harry muttered. “No!

You take down your opponent by fighting, then you get your wand and stun them! Just because you've lost your wand doesn’t mean the fight is over!” His voice was filled with passion.

“Er, okay,” Neville squeaked, his eyes wide as he stared at Harry as if he were seeing him for the first time. “Is that how you got away from You-Know-Who?”

Harry wanted to fire back a sharp response but thought better of it.

Remembering Severus's tale about the last war sobered him. He truly couldn’t blame people for preferring to use that name instead of his real one.

He’d been through too much to be scared of a name, but that didn’t mean everyone else had. “No,” Harry replied, choosing not to elaborate.

“So you’re going to teach us Muggle fighting?” Luna asked, sounding genuinely impressed. “If you want,” Harry replied, feeling a bit awkward.

There was too much talking happening. “Cool,” Luna said, her grin wide.

“What about spells?” Neville asked, a hint of a pout forming. “We will be doing both,” Harry declared firmly.

“Okay,” Neville nodded in agreement, and they got started. Harry asked the room for a dummy and explained blasting curses to Neville.

“The best one to use would be Confringo; it's one of the more powerful spells,” Harry explained. “There are no wand movements—just put as much magic into it as you can.

Test it on the dummies.”

Neville nodded in understanding. “Luna, stand over there.

We’re going to try the disarming spell,” he said, adopting a businesslike tone. Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of “Confringos” and “Expelliarmuses.” Once Harry was confident that Luna had mastered the disarming spell, he instructed her to do what Neville was doing—the Confringo spell.

Harry was using his new wand, and it was... so much better than his old one.

The spells came more easily, or at least it felt that way. It was strange; it reminded him of how his phoenix wand had felt when he first got it.

Comparing the two today, he realized that the sphinx hair infused with phoenix tears was far superior. He wondered what this meant.

Was he simply more powerful now than he had been at eleven? “So, why Muggle fighting?” Neville asked after they had finished destroying dummies with the blasting curse and were learning basic punching techniques on the bags.

“Other than to save your life? Punching one in the nose would stop them from being able to cast spells.

A well-placed hit further south would give you enough time to retrieve your wand and finish them,” Harry explained. “I’ve never thought of that… Why has it never been suggested before?” Neville asked, curiosity lighting up his face.

He was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, but feeling quite satisfied with himself. “Because wizards think they’re invincible just because they can do magic,” Harry replied with a shrug.

He knew what it was like to feel defenseless, to be without a wand, and then to wield one again! Still, he knew nothing compared to Riddle’s forty years of magical training.

From what he had seen and heard of Voldemort, he only relied on three spells regularly: the Imperius curse, the killing curse, and his favorite, the Cruciatus curse. Did he really possess extensive magical knowledge, or did it just seem that way because of his age?

To Harry, it felt as though Voldemort was more concerned with immortality than with learning everything there was to know about magic. He wasn't going to assume anything, though; as the saying goes, assuming makes an ass out of you and me.

“Good point,” Luna remarked, smiling at Harry in her usual vague manner. “Why do you run every morning?” Neville asked, sitting on the mat and wincing slightly; his hands were sore from hitting the punching bag.

“How do you know about that?” Harry replied, genuinely surprised. Harry was taken aback; he hadn’t realized anyone knew about his morning runs besides Severus.

"I noticed your bed was empty some time before Christmas when I was on my way to the toilet. I looked out and saw you running around the Quidditch pitch," Neville admitted, a bit sheepish at Harry’s surprise.

It felt to him like he had been caught snooping instead of simply observing. "Oh," Harry thought quickly, trying to come up with a plausible excuse that wouldn’t raise any questions.

"I started running when I got back to Hogwarts. Since I’m not playing Quidditch, I needed a way to let off some steam." He spoke with an honest and sincere expression.

As much as he appreciated Neville, he knew that both he and Luna had minds that were open books. He wasn’t about to put them—or Severus—in any kind of danger by confiding in them.

"Can I join you?" Neville suddenly asked, startling Harry. He hadn’t expected that at all.

"What?" Harry blinked in shock as he turned to face Neville. He didn’t mean to come off as rude, but this was the last thing he had anticipated.

Neville flushed with embarrassment; it was as if he could read Harry’s thoughts. But then, he squared his shoulders, looked Harry straight in the eye, and repeated, "Can I join you?" Each word was clearly enunciated.

"Um… sure… no problem," Harry replied, still a bit dazed. "Thanks," Neville said, relieved that he hadn’t been immediately shot down.

"Let’s go," Harry said, "I’m tired." That part was true; he was tired, but he wasn’t heading to bed to sleep. He planned to read some of the journal and a few books on animals and familiars.

He desperately wanted to keep Zar with him; he missed him every time he had to drop him off in Severus’ quarters. It would break his heart to put Balthazar down in the Chamber.

Zar himself didn’t even like being there. So, he was determined to come up with a plan.

with something—anything—to keep him close.