Will of Steel

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I would like to thank my beta, Akisu, for his help in this chapter.

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3rd September 1995, Hogwarts (Earth 2)

(Harry Potter POV)

The rest of the lesson was spent with the professor putting them in pairs and having them perform the disarming charm, first on the other person's wand and then on an incoming spell. Harry was able to do both, but when he tried to make a battle of wills, both spells sort of fizzled.

Still, it had been one of the best Defense lessons that he ever had, without question, and he came out with an actual passion to learn more about Defense and even Magic in general.

It was only after the bell rang that the professor called out, "Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, please stay in the classroom. I would like to have a word with you both."

The rest of the classroom scrambled away to get to potion's class. Harry and Neville waited at their seats, waiting for the professor to tell them why they were held back. Harry looked towards Neville, to find the boy almost trembling in fear; he hadn't been able to perform the spell correctly and was understandably worried about their professor's reaction. The only time he even showed a spark of magic during the practical portion of the lesson was when he accidentally disarmed himself, something that Harry never thought was actually possible using this spell.

The professor cleared her throat and spoke to them, "You must be wondering why I kept both of you here. Don't worry, you're not in trouble and your reasons are different. Let's start with Mr. Longbottom," Harry was sure that he heard the boy squeak in fright, "Is there any particular reason why you're using an unmatched wand? I'm sure that it's not monetary; from what I understand, the Longbottom family should have more than enough gold to pay for a wand of all things."

Neville's face whitened, "It's my father's, ma'am"

The woman snorted, "good for you, kiddo, but keep it in a vault or put it on display, don't use a wand that's stifling your magical development for no reason."

For the first time since Harry met him, Neville looked thunderous, "this is my father's wand, a part of his very magic. Using it would be my way of honoring his sacrifice."

Sayre snorted, "honoring him with what? I don't know who told you this nonsense, but using someone else's wand, especially if they're still alive, is one of the stupidest things anyone could do. Outside of the wand backfiring spells, it will never be attuned to you, or your magic," Neville's face whitened even more so, "Yes, I know of the circumstances concerning your parents, and I understand why you would want to honor their sacrifices, but I guarantee you that any parent would rather their child be a strong and educated one, than one crippling themselves for some kind of grand stupid gesture that doesn't mean much in the long run. When a wand picks a wizard, it matches to their magic, allowing them to shape it properly. All you're doing now is damaging your own education and growth for no reason. You will never be able to use your magic properly with this wand. Now, tell me, young man, who gave you the illusion that using this wand was a good idea?"

Neville looked down, "my grandmother did, Professor. She wanted me to be strong like my father."

The professor's eye's visibly softened, "I can understand grieving your child can make you do foolish things, but this is unacceptable. Tonight, after your lessons, I am going to summon you to my classroom and will take you to Diagon Alley to get a wand of your own. No matter what anyone has ever told you, you're not a squib, Mr. Longbottom, far from it, even. I can already sense your magic and how much it wishes to be unleashed, you only need to let it out, to stop being scared. I will talk with your teachers and will make sure to have a few make up sessions for you to familiarize yourself with your magic and continue your magical education properly. It's good that I discovered the issue now, in your OWL year, if we had done it later, you could have missed out on your education just because of a single bad decision."

"But my grandmother…"

Professor Sayre interrupted him, "If she gives you any problems, tell her to talk to me. I'll handle her. And before you ask, I will be the one teaching you potions, not Professor Snape, why anyone would make that man a professor of all things I have no idea."

Harry could still feel Neville's hesitation, and obviously so did the Professor, "Tell you what, you do this, and if your growth impresses me, I'll heal your parents."

It was like someone shook Neville's world, he looked at her with such hope in his eyes it broke Harry's heart a little bit, "How…"

"Something I do not publicize is the fact that I am the foremost soul magic expert in the world. I don't need morons with delusions of immortality after me all the time. I can handle it, but it's so troublesome. The healers could never heal your parents because the damage is not physical or mental. Sure, the pain of the Cruciatus is quite horrible, but it would take more than fifteen minutes to actually turn someone catatonic. The Cruciatus curse is a soul spell that messes with the connection between the soul and the body. It hurts a lot, of course, but the main issue is that if the spell is continuously used on someone, the connection becomes out of sync. Your parents must have been extremely strong willed to resist the effects this much and be able to not stay in a coma afterwards. You should be very proud of them, Mr. Longbottom. What I can do is synchronize the connection, which would heal them. Impress me and I will do it. Impress me and you will get your parents back."

Harry could feel the rage coming from his friend, "Why does there have to be a price, why wouldn't you just heal them?"

The professor smirked at him, "because nothing in this world is free. Equivalent exchange, that's how the world works, that's how magic works. Always be wary of deals that are too good to be true. Plus, I will not risk outing myself as a soul mage for no reason. Make it worth my while and I will risk my anonymity. So, Mr. Longbottom, should I expect you in my classroom after your classes?"

Neville's eyes looked determined. It was such an odd look at the usually meek boy, but it suited him. Harry could finally see why Neville was a Gryffindor; the steel in his eyes, the readiness to fight anything, overcome any obstacle, no matter how dangerous. It was odd how a single conversation changed him, how giving him hope changed him. Harry still didn't fully understand what happened to Neville's parents, but he knew if someone had given him the chance of seeing his parents again, he would do anything to grasp it.

Neville nodded and turned around and left the classroom, leaving Harry and the Professor alone. Before Harry could do say anything, the professor jumped towards him and hit her palm toward his chest. Suddenly, Harry was floating, he looked around and everything seemed to be slowed down. It was as if time had stood still. Even Harry's falling body was suspended in the air. What? Harry's body? Then what was he? He looked at his hands, to find them translucent, reminding him of ghosts.

"What just happened? Did I die?"

He heard a chuckle next to him. It was the ghost form of his professor, "Nothing quite so dramatic, Mr. Potter."

Harry turned around and glared at her, "What did you do to me?"

The professor was still smiling, "Nothing permanent, don't worry. I just pushed your astral form out of your physical form. Your soul from your body, nothing permanent, it just allowed us to have a private conversation without being heard and will help us get rid of a little problem."

"What problem?"

The professor pointed to something that was next to Harry, "this problem."

It was a black humanoid thing. It felt odd, incomplete, and so very wrong. It felt so sinister, so familiar, with its blood red eyes that reminded him of…. "Voldemort"

"Quite right, Mr. Potter. This is a soul shard, also known as a Horcrux, housed in your scar. It's a very small and insignificant one, belonging to one Tom Riddle. They are used by desperate wizards in a desperate attempt at immortality, not knowing that they're not permanent and would even deny them an afterlife. Breaking one's soul is unnatural, wrong, you can no doubt feel it. It's like breaking your very self, destroying who you were before and turn yourself into a shell, filled with nothing but madness. The truth is that this is what turned the brilliant Tom Riddle into the monster that is Lord Voldemort."

Harry was confused, "How is there a piece of his soul in my scar?"

"Fourteen years ago, when he came to your house at night, he killed your father, and then your mother, unknowingly activating her ritual, when he tried to kill you and was killed in return, his soul was so fractured, so twisted, that the killing curse he was hit with had created a small shard. It wasn't a big shard and would have been destroyed in minutes, so in a desperate way to survive, it latched onto the only thing around with an active lifeforce, you. Your mother's protection kept it at bay for some time, until the ritual during the third task, where Voldemort was able to revive himself with your blood, nullifying the protection. It's not particularly powerful and it wouldn't be able to anchor Voldemort should his other anchors be destroyed, but what it does is create a connection between the two of you, allowing both of you deep access to your mind, as if you had a backdoor. Unfortunately for you, Voldemort is a very skilled user of the mind arts, meaning that it's a very powerful advantage for him. He's already started influencing you. Isn't it odd how angry you're feeling all the time, compared to the years before? It's always there, bubbling, ready to explode. Should Voldemort actually realize the link's existence, he would use it to torture you, give you visions, or even possess you. Something I imagine you do not want."

"How do I get rid of him; how do I be free?"

The professor smiled at him, "by doing this…"

She waved her hand towards the space between him and the shadow, breaking some sort of link between them. Harry could feel the shadow's desperation, trying to survive, trying to connect back to the world. The shadow then started fading until it disappeared completely with a high pitched scream.

The Professor looked smug, "Without you providing life force to it, the shard can't sustain itself. All it took was severing the connection between the two of you."

Harry felt immediately better. He was oddly calm, collected. His thoughts were quicker, he was suddenly aware of his magic. It was like he had been carrying this weight all his life that was lifted off suddenly.

"I feel so different…"

"Naturally, you were pretty much under constant soul attacks from the shard, trying to assert itself. Your soul is connected to your magic, your mind and your body. You will start thinking faster, you will start actually growing properly, and your magic will be easier to command. It's not a huge power boost or anything like that, it's just some kind of enlightenment."

Harry spent a good minute marveling at this development, "Thank you."

The woman still smiled at him. She really reminded him of his mother for some reason.

"Why did you do this, why didn't you help Neville too?" he asked.

The professor chuckled, "Ah, Neville Longbottom. You have a lot in common, you and him."

"How so?"

"Well, for one, should things have gone differently, you and Neville would have been raised as brothers. After all, his mother is your godmother. But the biggest issue there was, is that you were both individually targeted by Voldemort. No, not your parents, but the both of you. Haven't you ever wondered why he told your mother to step aside. She was a muggleborn, something he despised on principle, and yet he didn't care about killing her, he wanted to kill you."

Harry stiffened, this was something Dumbledore had alluded to, but refused to tell him. This question had plagued his mind for years, "Why?" he croaked.

"There was a prophecy, saying that a child born at the end of July would defeat Voldemort. The dark lord, of course, heard it from a spy, and narrowed it down to two suspects. Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter. Both families were told to hide, as they were being actively hunted down by Voldemort himself. That was until he came to your house and tried to remove the threat before it became one. He chose to kill you first, and had he succeeded, I have no doubt that he would have killed Mr. Longbottom as well. Unfortunately for him, he fell in your mother's trap and got himself blown up. A few of his followers, knew that the Longbottoms were next on the list, but not why. They attacked young Neville's parents and tortured them with the Cruciatus until they snapped. They have been in St. Mungo's ever since, alive yet unable to recognize their own son, a cruel existence indeed."

Harry was frozen in shock, not expecting the parallels between him and Neville. He definitely didn't expect fucking divination to be the reason he didn't have any parents, "But divination is almost always a hoax, isn't it?"

The woman shrugged, "maybe the prophecy is true or maybe it's false, what matters isn't its validity, but the fact that Voldemort thinks that it's true. I don't know why he's trying to stop it, because if the prophecy is true then it will happen, no matter what. And if it's false then it was useless in the first place. You should always ignore prophecies, unless they act as warnings as they sometimes do."

"If Neville's parents are in such a bad place, why don't you just heal them? Why keep it over his head?"

The woman smirked, "I was always going to heal the Longbottoms, but this way is better for Neville. Did you take a look at him when he got out? The confidence, the defiance, I just unlocked his potential that years of being put down and being called a squib has stifled. Do you think he'll ever consider Mr. Malfoy's words when he's studying, do you think he'll care? Nothing matters compared to the chance of getting his parents back. I gave him hope and hope is a very powerful thing. You should understand it too, as you would do anything for just a minute with yours."

Harry nodded, "What now?"

"Now, since Dumbledore isn't training you, I'll do it myself. You will quit Quidditch, you will take your studies seriously without any distractions, you will stop playing around, and every night, you will come to my office, and I will teach you. I will make a wizard out of you that would make Dumbledore jealous. That doesn't mean that you'll be able to fight Voldemort in a year, nothing could be done in a year that would ever compare to his decades of experience and his fully matured magic, but it would give you a chance, and a base for you to learn by yourself. Now, let's go back to the real world."

Harry was then pushed back into his body, and the professor looked at him in fake worry, "Are you alright Mr. Potter."

He nodded, not understanding what just happened.

Harry looked at her stupefied and the woman continued, "Off you go, Mr. Potter. I believe that you're already late for Professor Snape's lesson. I'm going to give you a note. And do keep an eye on Mr. Longbottom for me, would you?"

Harry nodded, still confused about what happened. He took the note and left the classroom. On his way there, he put a hand at his scar, and some weird black ooze was coming from it. He went to the bathroom to wash his face. His scar looked a little less raw than it used to.

He smiled to himself before being reminded that he was late to Snape's class. He groaned again, even if he had a note, the bastard would still berate him for no reason. He hurried up and ran towards the dungeons.