Dumbledore sat behind his desk in his office at Hogwarts. Across the desk were his closest and most trusted confidants, those to whom he would unburden himself of his worries to the extent he considered them capable of bearing. On occasion, when he was less than totally sure of his course of action (or of their loyalty), he might ask their advice. That always flattered them so.
Not that they might not occasionally come up with ideas that he might have missed of course. He was the greatest living wizard but contrary to his reputation, he couldn't really think of everything. Why it was much less than two decades since he had felt at such a loss for inspiration as to where to turn. Fortunately, Voldemort had had his fateful first encounter with Harry Potter before he had had to embarass himself though.
This time, he did not believe it would be wise to rely on such a happenstance. After all, this time it was young Harry who was at the root of the problem.
"I have spoken to Mr. Potter," he said quietly. "It seems only so short a time since he first came to Hogwarts..."
After a moment of silence as the Headmaster mused dreamily about the Boy-WHo-Lived, it was Severus Snape who broke the silence. "And what did the Brat-Who-Lives have to demand this time?" he asked. "Help with his homework? Even with Granger's help he's not going to pass Potions this year. We'll be lucky if he and Longbottom don't put half their class in Pomfrey's care."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. Severus always felt the need to hide his concern for students behind such a mask of scorn, he knew and so he did not hold the outburst against him. "Oh, nothing of the kind, Severus. And I'm sure that he does very well under your tuition, as do all our students. No, Mr. Potter had another request, and one that I think needs the most careful of handling."
"What does he want then?" Alastor Moody demanded bluntly.
"It would appear," the Headmaster explained, "that he wishes training so that he will not be at such a disadvantage should he, heaven forbid, have to confront Voldemort once more."
Professor McGonagall made a distressed sound. Despite her mask of sternness, Dumbledore knew that his deputy cared deeply for all her students. "But surely that isn't necessary, Headmaster. You can't expect that Mr. Potter will be exposed to that villain again!"
Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Every precaution will be taken," he assured her, although he knew that there would most certainly be another such encounter. But no training would affect the outcome of that meeting he knew. Only love would help Harry then, and stripping him of what remained of his childhood would not help in that.
"I can scarcely conceive," Snape sneered, "That any amount of training could reduce the mountainous disadvantage that Potter faces against the Dark Lord. It's an utter waste of time even to consider it."
"I disagree with neither of you," Dumbledre agreed swiftly. "Regretably, if understandably, Mr. Potter is bound and determined to seek some form of improvement and if we, his elders and teachers, cannot provide it I must presume that he shall seek it elsewhere, from less reliable and dare I say, more hazardous sources. This then is our dilemma. How may we persuade him to put aside this goal of his."
Moody scratched his chin. "I can't say that I know the boy as well as the rest of you, but I may have a notion," he said thoughtfully, his magical eye rolling in it's socket. "Rather than refusing him training, why not set him some training... something hard enough that he'll give up."
McGonagall shook her head. "I'm afraid that you underestimate Harry's stubbornness, Alastor," she said. "If he believes that training will help him then nothing short of a miracle will deter him."
"Even better," Moody said. "Tell him that once he goes in, we will insist that he finish the training. Then give him ridiculously hard training and don't let up until he quits anyway. That gives us the moral high ground to prevent him from going off on his own. After all, if he can't deal with the carefully monitored training that we offer, how can he attempt the far more stringent training of someone else."
"But where do you propose to get training hard enough to get through his thick skull?" Snape asked, looking honestly curious.
"Wouldn't you like to know, Snape," Moody snapped. "Suffice it to say I happened across a training manual someone wrote for an eastern martial art. The Saotome fellow who wrote it was obviously an imbecile and no one but a total masochist would attempt even some of the more moderate exercises." He paused and smiled, an ugly expression on his face. "I used one or two for... interrogation on a time, Snape. More than happy to show you those ones..."
"Well now," Dumbledore said brightly, happy that his brilliant notion for diverting Harry had met with such approval from his inner circle. "That all sounds splendid Alastor. Could I impose upon you to supervise the training?"
