Still searching

Chapter 33

The Weasleys and Hermione visited a couple of days after Harry had sent his letters. They stayed with him the whole day except for George who went to see Fred although nobody but Harry knew that. Sadly, Draco had to go to classes but Harry would see him at lunch and in the evening. They left just before dinner. Harry was looking forward to just relax a bit but the Headmistress walked in followed by Quipett.
“Are you ready to start your training, Harry?” Asked McGonagall. Harry sighed.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“You are going to be going outside with Arnold.”
“Let me just get changed.” The two professors left the room and Harry got dressed as fast as he could, although he was still sore so he wasn’t that fast.
They walked down the grounds, as far away from the school as possible, where students never went. McGonagall was going to supervise them.
“Right,” Said Quipett, “can you show me your wings?”
Harry scrunched up his face and concentrated hard, imagining his winds unfold from his back. He hadn’t even noticed they had appeared until McGonagall gave an involuntary noise of glee. She blushed and hid a grin. She pulled a mirror out of her cloak pocket and showed Harry his wings in it. His eyes widened in surprise.
“Wow.” He breathed.
“Now, I’m going to try something, Harry. I’m going to shoot a mild curse at you. And of course, you have to block it.” Quipett pointed his wand at Harry and conjured a blasting curse. Harry blocked it easily but he felt a change in his wings; the were till soft where his body could touch them but as soon as they were out of Harry’s reach, they turned sharp as the sharpest knives.
“Wow.”
“Good, do you want to try flying?”
“As much as I would love to try flying, I’m exhausted.” Said Harry.
“Of course, you’re still weak. We will continue tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Professor. For helping me.”
“Harry, please. I’m not much older than you believe it or not. Just call me Arnold.”
“Okay.” Harry smiled up at the man as they started walking up to the castle with McGonagall slightly ahead of them. “How old are you then? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I am twenty-two next month.”
“Wow, you are young.”
“And so are you.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”

For the next few days, substitutes came to replace Harry and Arnold while they trained. Arnold not only taught him about his powers and abilities but taught him in combat as well. Harry was also taught to control his powers which were much more powerful now. Harry couldn’t even cast an ‘Expelliarmus’ without making Arnold shoot back and hit the floor.
“Sorry.” He said while the professor wiped off the mud from his cloak for the twentieth time.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I just can’t seem to get the hang of it.”
“You will soon enough. You just have to get used to having so much power really.”
So they trained and trained until Harry had complete control over his powers and his wings and was as good as Arnold was at combat. With his heightened emotions, Harry often got annoyed and would slump off in a huff for a few minutes before coming back and trying whatever he was doing again. It was a very long process but, thankfully, Arnold was very patient.
“I think you’ve got it Harry.” The boy beamed up at him. He looked like he was eleven all over again.
“You think so?”
“Yes.”

“I’ve finished my training.” Said Harry as he and Draco got ready for bed.
“Really? That’s great.” They got into bed and Harry had a sudden thought.
“Has your mother sent you any more letters since the last one?”
“Yes, loads.” Said Draco, indifferently.
“And did you reply?”
“No.”
“Why?” Asked Harry, shocked. “I thought you only didn’t get along with your father?”
“That’s true.” The blond sighed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“How about, on the next Hogsmeade weekend, you meet with her in the Three Broomsticks? I’ll ask Ron and Hermione down for some company while you’re with her.”
“That’s an idea…” Said Draco slowly. “I guess I could do that. I’ll write her a letter right now.”
Harry laid back in bed, happy he had done something to reunite his boyfriend with his mother.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Asked Draco. “To Hogsmeade? I could always meet my mother during the holidays.”
“The holidays are weeks away. Go see her. I bet she’s missed you. And I bet you’ve missed her too.”
Harry leaned back again and fell asleep to the sound of Draco’s quill scratching parchment. He was mildly aware of Draco slipping into bed with him, a few minutes or hours Harry didn’t know, later and kissing him on the forehead.
“Goodnight, Love.” Mumbled Harry. Draco smiled at the nickname.
“Sweet dreams, Love.”