Celebwen Telcontar: This is chapter ten. It's a little more violent, because we're gaining up on the end of the war. I need some ideas: when Moldywart is killed, where should the Greeks go? Back to Greece? Stay in England? Return to Greece, but in modern time frame by accident? And what should happen ultimately with the Dursleys?
Balrog: You are long winded. And none of this belongs to you. It all belongs to JK Rowling and Caliope, the muse of History.
Celebwen Telcontar: Can it, firebreath. Please review!
Professor Actaeon upped the temperature a little bit in the training arena, and removed his sandals in order to feel the fine-grained sand between his toes. The columns gave the room a very comfortable atmosphere, at least as far as he was concerned. He bounced on his toes, and spun his sword in one hand. Actaeon trotted the length of the room, getting a feel for how many laps he should put the students through. The armor, shields, and mock spears swords were hanging on the weapons rack, ready for use. He quickly put a scent of salt in the air, as well as the sound of waves crashing on a distant beach. He threw in several puffs of air, making the place his ideal training grounds. A fountain stood at one end, the water running into a grill and being recycled. The door opened, and the Seventh-Year Gryphindors entered, looking puzzled. Lavender and Parvati looked like their dreams had come true.
"Students, there are suits of armor on the weapons racks. The stone chambers off to your left are the women's changing rooms, and the right ones are the men's. Put them to use. I expect you to bring the armor with you, mend it when it needs mending, and bring it to the training session every day. There is no reason why the armor should not come to class with you. You can charm the armor to fit you. You can see how my armor is on, you need to use yours in the same way. Get to it!" Actaeon barked. The class scampered to do his bidding, and soon were dressed for battle, and milling aimlessly about the room. "Now, I need you to jog three laps around this room for warm up. After that, we get to the entertaining bits of Physical Defense." He jogged about with his class, lazily going at a jog. The Trojan war had given him endurance skills he never dreamed he could have possessed before then.
He noticed Tithonus' brass armor gleaming in the warm sunlight as the students pounded their way around the arena. Neville was panting, but managed to keep up, to a point, and Lavender Brown was lagging behind severely.
"Pick it up, Brown!" Tithonus called, surpassing her. The girl began to run a little bit faster, and slowly joined the crowd again.
After the three laps, Tithonus had the students, panting and sweating to a fault, and standing, hunched over and hands on their knees.
"Alright. Now for the rules to the class. Some of you may find them severe. I will give points sparingly, only when I feel that you have seriously earned it. I will take points when I feel that you have not been working hard enough. My detentions are severe and to the point. We are in a time of war. Does Voldemort pay attention to our house points? No he doesn't. He only concerns himself with recruiting those he feels will be an asset, and killing and torturing those who stand in his way. Who objects to this method?"
"Sir, I don't know what good a sword and long, pointy stick will do against a wand. Spells can be cast much faster and with more accuracy, and a pair of Muggle weapons will only make a bigger mess," Parvati called.
"What if you loose your wand yet still have your sword? These shields have been charmed to repel all spells. I had myself and my wife, plus Actaeon, his daughter, and his wife, and Kilissa and her husband put all their love into the shields. They will even repel the Avada Kedavra curse, and will at least severely injure the caster, if not kill them, when using the killing curse. Now, there is something you must understand. If the person going to be decked in the armor is truly evil from the core of their being, the armor will burn them. They will feel uncomfortable within twenty-five feet of the armor, and the feeling will intensify the closer they get to the armor."
"Professor Actaeon, what will this course entail?"
"Physical defense, and wand-less warfare. Basically, tumbling, Spartan military tactics, endurance, how to keep your wind, how to move in order to not let your opponent get a good shot, etc... Now, I do not hold with bows. I think they are a bit too unreliable, but Professor Tithonus is good with the bow, and will teach all who wish to learn as part of their curriculum. Now, I will start with the girls. Boys will go to Professor Tithonus."
Neville whimpered slightly, and he and Dean Thomas went over to Tithonus, who swished the sword he had gotten from Odysseus for helping with the suitors. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown went over to Actaeon, who cast his sword on the ground and picked up some sand to rub between his palms for a better grip. He then began to teach the girls how to hold a sword properly, and fling a spear. Right now, he wasn't too worried about the accuracy, only the distance. The first one Lavender flung went about three feet, tumbling end over end. It stuck in the ground, and, when the dull end was swinging down to meet the ground, it encountered Neville's helmet. Parvati went flying with her spear, trying to run with it, and accidentally sent herself vaulting a stretch of sand, crashing into Tithonus, who glared at Actaeon.
"Miss Patil! I did not think that pole vaulting was part of the curriculum. You will refrain from sending yourself towards your target," Actaeon barked.
The rest of the class went little better, with Neville giving himself a gash in the leg with his sword.
"You'll live. We teach endurance to pain in this class also, so you will endure the pain until the end of class. Then, we will teach you to stitch up your own wounds, and you will not be allowed to go to Madam Pompfry with the wounds unless they are life-threatening."
"Ye-yes, sir."
"Class, this is a very militant course. As such, we expect you to follow the same rules that Greek soldiers from Trojan times would follow. Superiors, especially generals and people higher than you in the military ladder, are called 'Lord'. Do you understand?"
"Yes, My lord." The words sounded strange to them, but for the military discipline to take hold, they needed to train the students with every aspect of it.
After the Gryphindors were the 7th year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. Actaeon was very nervous about what was going to happen.
The door opened, and Justin Finch-Fletchy entered, followed by the remainder of Hufflepuff. The Slytherins entered, followed by Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini.
"What sort of Physical Defense class is this? Defense against the sun?" Malfoy sneered.
"Mr. Malfoy, if you think you do not need this class, then let us have a duel here and now. Tithonus, my shield and sword." He already wore most of his armor, and quickly donned his helmet. Tithonus handed him his shield and sword. Malfoy drew his wand, pointing it at Actaeon.
"You think some weirdo metal armor will save you, Professor? Try this on for size! Crucio!" The curse didn't even hit him. It bounced off of his shield, and hit a pillar, destroying it. "What! Avada Kedavra!" The Killing Curse again bounced off of the shield, hitting the far wall, which burst into flame. Tithonus repaired the damage as Actaeon came foreword. Malfoy ran, and changed into one of the suits of armor, looking ridiculous because of his robes under the armor. He slammed a helmet on his head, and grabbed a sword and shield. Actaeon smiled. Malfoy charged him, and Actaeon parried his clumsy blow with an experienced sweep. His sword rang on Malfoy's shield, and the blonde boy jumped back. Actaeon swept his sword down and put a long gash in Malfoy's thigh. He fell to the sand, screaming. Tithonus raised an eyebrow.
"Philoctetes wasn't screaming, and he had a life threatening injury," Actaeon replied to Tithonus' gesture. "Silenco. Class, we are going to teach you endurance to pain, endurance plain and simple, how to fight with a spear, sword and shield, and how to basically fight like the Greek soldiers in the time of the Trojan War. Now, when you get injured, and it is not a life threatening injury, you will stitch the cut up if it requires that, and wait for your body to heal on its own. I will know if you have gone to Madam Pompfry or have healed it on your own, and will re-open the cut, not so that it is life threatening, but so that it is more painful. I swear to that promise. Now, class, I suppose I should start with the medical portion of the class. You, Zabini, cut Malfoy's lower robes and pant leg off of the area with the injury, and you, Malfoy, stand." Malfoy nodded, sweating, and managed to get to his feet, or foot, and using Zabini as a crutch, managed to hobble over to the area with the needles and thread.
"What's going to happen to him?" Blaise asked, looking concerned. She had some blood spattered on her face and robes.
"He's going to stitch up his own leg."
"What? You mean like a Muggle!" Justin cried.
"Yes, Mr. Finch-Fletchy. Now watch. Finite incartum."
"Aaaarrgh! Sew up... my... own wounds!" Malfoy managed to get out. Actaeon grabbed a gauntlet.
"Bite down on this, and take this needle." Malfoy shook his head viciously, and Actaeon glared at him, raising the sword. Malfoy winced, groaned, and took the needle. "Thread it with this string, and then put your hand into the wound and lift the skin."
"Are you mad!"
"No. I've done this multiple times. Do you see this? I got it early in the War, when an arrow hit me in the leg. I had to cut my leg open, pull out the head from my thighbone, and then sew up the cut. I would expect you to do the same thing." Actaeon showed the long scar on his thigh.
"Why didn't you magic it closed?"
"I didn't know healing spells then, and just after I Vanished the stitches, my wand was destroyed by a Trojan's arrow. Tithonus had his wand destroyed by the son of Aphrodite who was fighting on the Trojan side. A spear caused this scar here on my face from a man named Paris. He killed one of my best friends, and in turn I killed him."
"You kill in retribution?"
"Many times. Philoctetes died from a gut wound, and I nearly killed the hero who killed him before he was whisked away by Poseidon. I can never forgive Paris. Achilles taught me everything I know about wielding a sword, using a shield, throwing a spear, singing, dancing, the art of speech, how to preserve my strength and healing. I was so mad after he died... I even used one of Heracles' arrows that had blood from the Hydra poisoning the tip. It took him five days to die, and he was in agony rivaling the Cruciatus curse."
"Whoa. When you went here, were you by any chance a Slytherin?"
"No," Actaeon replied.
"Who are you?" Blaise asked.
"Actaeon. Now, since we're here, I'd better tell you that this is a very militant course. As such, we expect you to follow the same rules that Greek soldiers from Trojan times would follow. Superiors, especially generals and people higher than you in the military ladder, are called 'Lord'. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Milord Actaeon," Draco said meekly.
"Draco, I'd suggest you to deal with that wound. I'm not going to stitch it up for you. The rest of you, go and start running three laps. Tithonus, I'll stay and make sure that Draco gets his leg stitched up."
"Alright, Actaeon. I'll go and get the kids started as soon as their done with the warmup." The group continued to run as Draco whimpered and stitched his own leg, muttering about his father. Actaeon wasn't concerned.
"Boy, this is war. In war, people get hurt. Not those people who are nameless, faceless, simply numbers. But people you care about. People who you want to see live to old age. Do you understand? That is what we are preparing you for. I've had friends die. I've seen them die. It is not plesent; have youever seen a man die before your eyes?"
"Yes," Draco panted.
"Then you know the energy drain that the demise lets loose. You know how it looks to see them, their guts spilling out, blood slicking the floor or soaking into the sand. Their eyes, staring, sightless, up at the sky." Draco looked sick.
"No, just by the Avada Kedavra curse."
"Good Gods, boy. You can't learn from that. They look like dolls with cut strings that way."
"And why do you think that?"
"Blood and gore drives home the fact that they are dead. That they are going to stay that way, rot, and become maggot-infested pieces of meat, nothing more, unless they are delt with. War is almost pure pain, Mr. Malfoy. I have yet to see you understand that." Actaeon turned on his heel as Malfoy finished with his cut and put the needle away. Tithonus stared at Malfoy and nodded curtly.
"He's never going to learn, Actaeon," he muttered to his friend.
"I'm afraid not. Well, I can't say I didn't try."
Celebwen Telcontar: It may be an abrupt end, but it's an ending for the chapter. Please review! Especially you, Suuki-Aldrea! I want to see how you think of it!
Balrog: You're wasting your time.
Celebwen Telcontar: Please review!