Warnings: I'm going to warn against everything just to be safe.

Notes: To be honest, I haven't really put much thought into this fic. I know what I want to happen with the plot but mostly I'm just winging it. Just because I haven't planned everything out doesn't mean I'm not putting effort into this story.

Chapter lengths will be however long I damn well feel like making them. I can assure you that I'm not like 90 percent of the idiots you see writing fan fiction these days so I will be putting more than 500 words in each chapter.

Oh and just to go in a totally different direction to where all the pre-teen fangirls have been taking HP fan fiction lately; this wont be a slash fic. I'm not sure if there will be any relationship in this for Harry, but I can assure you that his tongue will not be battling Draco's at any point during this fic.

Kind of takes parts of HBP but ignores DH.

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own the Potterverse and no money will be made from this bla bla bla etc.

Harry Potter and the Three Reasons

By: VeryStickyGlue

Chapter 1

So I did it, just like everyone thought I would. Just like they all wanted. Voldemort died by my hand just like that batty old fraud rasped out all those years ago in the back room of a run down pub. I found the power that old snake molesting bastard didn't know then I used it to beat the shit outa him and his mangy pack of sycophants. I guess you want to know what it was, don't you? Well, it sure as hell wasn't love like Dumbledore claimed. I honestly don't think I knew what love was at the time. Even now I don't think I know what it is. I could probably give you the textbook description of love, but to describe a moment in my life that I felt love? To describe a loving moment between me and another person? Don't think so.

I'm getting distracted. The power he knew not. Well as I said, wasn't love. Wasn't hate either. Not anger, jealousy, sadness, or boredom. Wasn't any emotion. Personally I think Dumbledore has been sticking some LSD in his lemon drops or something. Emotion is hardly a power. I killed that snake faced bastard with a spell of my own creation. He didn't know about it, therefore I was able to use it to kill him. Hear that? Nothing fancy, no mystical weapon lost to the ages, no lightning bolts from my ass. The power was a magic spell that he didn't know existed. Wasn't even that good of a spell, all it did was conjure a wooden stake at the tip of my wand then hurl it forward at faster speeds than my Firebolt is capable of moving at. Not a very handy spell to be honest. I kinda couldn't think up anything else to do. Do you have any idea just how many spells are out there? You try thinking up an original one. I will admit that I did have the idea after watching a TV show with this real hot looking American Vampire slayer chick. Strange really as real vampires don't die if you slam a stake into their chest, just pisses them off to be honest. Sorta found that out the hard way, but that's another story.

I think I'm getting ahead of myself though. The spell creation, pissing off a vampire, destroying Voldy, losing damn near everyone I hold dear. First came hunting down all those fucking Horcruxes.

Three years hunting them down. Three years traipsing up and down the country hunting for where he had hidden them. But I did it. Well, we did it. I couldn't have done it alone no matter how much I may have wanted. Hermione, Ron and I worked so hard to track them down. Or rather, me and Hermione worked hard. Ron just ate food, moaned a lot and provided an extra wand in a fight. That was just in the first year of course. Hermione managed to track down two of the four remaining Horcruxes that year. God she was amazing! First she remembered the locket we cleared out of Sirius' place before the start of fifth year, and let me tell you, I kicked myself so many times for not remembering that sooner. Maybe if I had, Dumbledore wouldn't have been so screwed up by that poison in that stupid cave. But moving on.

We hunted down the location of the locket over the course of about a four months. And by locket I mean old Dung Fletcher. And by 'hunted down the location' I mean hunted him down and physically beat the location of the locket out of him. It was pretty easy going after that. Went to one of the places where he stashed his dodgy items, fished out the locket from between some stolen cauldrons then went to an industrial blast furnace and tossed the fucker in. That was another one of Hermione's ideas. Scary smart she is.

Was.

Even now, five years later I still forget sometimes. I think it's wishful thinking most of the time. Her...Dying really made things hit home for me. It was just after we had found and destroyed another of the Horcruxes, Hufflepuff's cup, and we were having a bit of a celebration in a small pub down near Dover. I still don't know who spotted and reported our location to the Death Eaters, it's not even important. All I know is one minute I'm laughing with Hermione and Ron, the next we're behind the bar sheltering from a dozen of Voldemort's finest. We were all still so naïve, still following Dumbledore's tactics of not hurling lethal spells back. It was after the fourth time I stunned the same Death Eater that Hermione was hit. AK right to the face while she was trying to shield one of the Muggles. I just sat there in shock for a few seconds, not wanting to believe it, thinking she would sit back up any second and hurl more spells around. Wasn't until a cutting curse hit my shoulder that I snapped out of it, and boy did I snap.

I only really remember bits and pieces of what happened next, can't even pull up the memory for a pensieve viewing. Ron told me later that I was the most frighting thing he had ever seen, including Aragog. All I remember was jumping up onto the bar and screaming incoherently. Ron said I jumped onto the bar and just yelled stuff about taking Hermione from me then started waving my wand around like a sword, sending great arcs of magic through the air and slicing the Death Eaters into ribbons. I know that part happened as I clearly remember the blood splattered all up the walls and slashes clean through the wall to the outside after everything had calmed down. What I don't remember was me glowing, projecting an aura of magic from my body, or taking several killing curses. Felt those later though. Bruises like you wouldn't believe. No more lightning bolt scars though.

Anyway, we took Hermione's body and cleared out before the Ministry turned up. I later heard that I'd managed to kill six Death Eaters and take the legs off one other. I didn't know any of them, apparently they were all new recruits. The rest of the cowards portkeyed away once I went batshit.

We didn't know what to do with Hermione's body. I had no idea what her final wishes were, whether she wanted to be cremated or buried or whatever. Eventually we apparated into some dense woods and I put her body under the strongest stasis charm I could, sealed her away in a transfigured tomb and threw a Fidelius Charm around the area. Plan being to find her parents after the war, restore their memories and see what they wanted to do. Wasn't until last year, four years after her death and two after the fall of Voldemort, that I did that. Restoring her parents memories just to tell them she was dead has to have been one of the hardest things I've ever done, and I include killing Voldemort in that. I tell you, I was drunk for a solid month afterwards. Her parents blamed me of course, father damn near took my head off with a steak knife. I don't blame them. I blame me for her death as well.

Anyway, on with my story.

After Hermione being killed I took the gloves off. I realised Dumbledore was an idiot and to fight fire, you needed to get a fucking dragon. So I locked myself up in the library at Grimmauld Place and didn't leave it for two months. I learnt more magic in that time than all my previous six years at Hogwarts. Of course, sixty percent of what I learnt was what I now call Black Magic, stuff I wouldn't, couldn't, use.

That's probably a good point to tell you my views on magic. See, most of the Wizarding World sees magic in White and Black. Light and Dark. There is no grey area in between. To them, Light magic is all tickling charms and Jelly Legs jinx's and is fine and lovely and you are a wonderful person if you use them. Then you have the so called Dark Magic that only evil people use and they should be hated and locked up, those people who use Fire Whips and Decapitation Curses and the Unforgivables. Of course, they don't realise that you can hold someone under a strong enough tickling charm until their diaphragm cramps up, stops working and they are no long able to breath. They don't realise you can stun someone too much and stop their heart, as almost happened to Professor McGonagall in fifth year. They forget that the Avada Kedavra was created by the British Ministry of Magic as a way to quickly and painlessly execute criminals. That was before they unearthed the Veil of Death of course.

While reading in the Black Family library I realised that most magic is just that, magic. It's not light or dark, it just is. The users of magic are light or dark, their intentions behind the spell are what cause it to do good or evil. However, as I mentioned there was what I call Black Magic. I used that term to describe magic that was designed to do evil. Spells and rituals that have no other purpose than to cause pain, suffering and gruesome deaths. The spells specifically designed to implode peoples eyeballs, to turn their stomach acid so strong that it will eat through their own body in seconds, that force the overwhelming urge to eat their own flesh upon the victim. Such spells that can in no way be used for good.

Unless it was for killing Death Eaters.

I will admit that after Hermione died I went a little...Dark. I had received Dumbledore's pensieve in his will and examined the fight that claimed Hermione's life and saw who cast the spell which took her from me.

Snape. Always Snape. The entire reason my life got so fucked up. The greasy Death Eater who ran off to Voldemort to tell him the part of the prophesy he overheard, the reason Voldemort targeted and killed my parents. The bastard who killed Dumbledore. The twat who forced my mind wide open to Voldemort that led to Sirius being killed. I admit that after coming out of the pensieve I threw a hell of a hissy fit. I pretty much destroyed an entire floor of the house with uncontrolled magic.

Oh hey, I forgot the flip side of the coin. Where you have the so called Light and Dark magic that can be used for either, then you have the Black Magic that can only be used to harm, you also have your White Magic, magic that can't be used to harm others. The obvious one being the Patronus Charm. The only thing that can harm would be Dementors and Lethifolds. You'd think this area of magic is rather small, seeing as you could even use a charm for hard boiling eggs on someone's eyes to cause extreme pain and blindness. Well, you're wrong there. There are thousands of spells that can't hurt anyone, even if you put every ounce of your power into them. The teeth cleaning charm for example. The only thing that spell is capable of effecting is plaque. It's made that way. If you power it up or hold it on someone all they get is real sparkly teeth. You could fire it into someone's eye at point blank range and nothing would happen. It can't even indirectly hurt people like a Vanishing spell, which can't be used to vanish body parts but can be used to vanish a support strut and bring a ceiling down on someone's head. Killed two Death Eaters and captured three more using that move.

Again, sidetracked slightly. As I was saying, Black Magic can only be used to cause pain and misery and after watching Snape cast the curse that killed Hermione using all I learnt on him was the only thing I could think about. I forgot about the Horcruxes, Voldemort was a minor concern, Ron had long since grown tired of me reading all the time and had gone home, then back to Hogwarts so he could gorge himself three times a day, plus snacks.

I started letting myself be seen places, no glammors or disguises, just to try and lure Death Eaters to me. It worked a fair few times. The first time just five DE's turned up. I was rather insulted to be honest. None of them lasted long and none of them were Snape. I killed one of them and the rest were wounded. I injured them even more once they were down, beyond magic's ability to fix, without killing them then I dumped them all into the phone box entrance to the Ministry. I could have just killed them, but it's one thing to kill them during a fight and another to do so while they are laying unconscious on the floor at your feet. So I'd throw a Reducto at their knees and hands then heal them up badly. Had I not cast a few badly done healing charms they probably could have been fixed up enough to get back out and fight me another day.

After that first group being beaten so soundly then dumped for the Ministry to throw in Hotel Azkaban, the next group had more people in. Ten this time, and two heavy hitters. Rabastan Lestrange and Augustus Rockwood. Well, ten against one isn't good odds, especially with one of the Lestrange brothers and a former Unspeakable against you. I was messed up pretty badly after that fight, still got a couple of scars from it. However, I killed Rabastan and took an arm off Rockwood. Two of the grunts also died while four more were beaten into unconsciousness. Two portkeyed away when Rockwood did. I would have messed up the four remaining DE's but I barely had the strength to apparate myself to Grimmauld Place let alone bugger up their chances of walking or holding a wand again.

After I rethought things a bit I realised I couldn't do this alone. I contacted Ron, told him I was done reading and was hunting down Snape. Well, I sent the owl at half ten in the morning, Ron was at my side by two pm and raring to go. He couldn't wait to take down Snape. He didn't even know it was Snape who killed Hermione. All he knew was Snape was the epitome of Slytherin and Slytherin equals bad. Probably didn't help that Snape had heaped abuse on Ron over the years nearly as bad as he did me.

Wow, listen to me. I didn't mean to go on this much. I was only going to say that I killed Voldemort after finding the power he didn't know jack about. But you know, I actually feel better to talk about it. You don't mind if I keep going do you? No? Good man.

So there we were, me and Ron, two thirds of the Golden Trio, ready and raring to hunt us some Snape. We took down another two teams of Death Eaters, Ron actually finishing off the one armed Rockwood in the second team, before we finally caught him.

It was a shockingly easy fight. Snape is such a good dueller because he uses Legilimency constantly against whoever he is fighting. He knows what spell you're going to throw at him, where you're going to move to, which direction you're likely to dodge in almost as soon as you do yourself. Any time he comes up against an opponent that knows how to keep his mind probes out he is only a mediocre dueller at best and normally finds his way out of the fight as soon as he can. Well, thanks to Hermione I made sure to learn Occlumency, and learn it well. I'll never be as good as Snape, able to let people see false memories and make them think they were real, but I could keep people out or direct them to a memory I wanted them to see.

So when I came face to face with the Dark Lord Greasy I allowed his mind probe past my defences and directed it to the memory of me once walking in on Aunt Marge after she'd just got out of the shower. A truly hideous sight, I assure you. Snape obviously agreed as he was temporally shocked to a standstill, long enough for me to stun him, summon him to me and apparate away.

I took him to the Shrieking Shack. I figured that seeing as I would be making the bastard scream I might as well give people a reason to be scared of the old place. Unfortunately what I didn't know was the Order had been using it as a safe house of sorts. I apparated in right between Mooney and Mad-Eye.

After being woken from Moody's stunner and yelled at about going AWOL since I came of age just over a year previously, I was finally allowed to tell them why I had just apparated here with Snape. Both knew of Hermione's death from Ron and his loose lips but they didn't know it had been Snape's curse that ended her life. Oh, I should just mention that Ron apparated out of the fight just after I did, he went back to Grimmauld Place to grab a post fight snack. It wasn't until later that he knew I had snatched Snape otherwise he would have probably come with me.

Where the hell was I? Oh yes, telling Remus and Moody why I was there and why I had Snape with me. Well they were both sympathetic and horrified. They understood that Snape had taken Hermione from me and before that Dumbledore, but they were shocked and appalled that I was going to torture him. I argued with them, yelled a fair bit, threatened them. It wasn't until Mooney decked me and told me that Hermione wouldn't want me doing such a thing, let alone my parents that I broke down. Yep, you heard it right. I broke down. Cried like a little baby and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I should mention that this was the first time I'd actually cried for Hermione's passing. Before I had been in shock, then filled with anger and focused on revenge.

Mooney talked me out of destroying Snape bit by bit and letting Moody take him in to the Ministry. However before I let him I did smash his hands and knees in. I made sure to wake him first, just so he knew it was me that was taking away his ability to make potions. Remus wasn't pleased I did that but Mad-Eye just stood there chuckling.

So after Moody had taken Snape away I talked with Remus some more. Told him some of what I had been doing. Didn't mention the Horcruxes to him. He told me some of the happenings that I'd missed. The Death Eaters had been rather quiet, yet still letting people know they were around. No large scale attacks, lots of small raids and killings. Voldemort himself hadn't been seen for a while and the Order theorised that he was plotting something. The Ministry of Morons were cocking things up as usual. Instead of fast tracking Aurors or actively hunting Death Eaters, they were trying to track little old me down. Scrimgeour was still trying to get me to be his little poster boy. Because the Death Eaters I'd been leaving around for them to find, the Ministry had now issued an arrest warrant for me. Apparently you're not allowed to fight back against the Death Eaters unless you're a Ministry Employee. Stupid pricks.

The Order had been trying to carry on as normal after Dumbledore's death but they couldn't really. They had also been keeping an eye out for me so they could pack me off to Hogwarts where it was safe. What a laugh. I told Remus that if he could out duel me then I would go back. He refused, I took that as a surrender and declared I wouldn't be going back. When he said that wasn't good enough I chucked a spanner in the works and swore a magical oath that I wouldn't return to Hogwarts as a student or to shelter from Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Remus yelled for ten minutes straight after I'd done that, then slapped me on the back and told me Sirius would be proud for wrecking that plan. Said I had the Marauder's Spirit. Remus eventually talked me in to coming to an Order meeting two days later. He promised me that no one would try and secret me off somewhere. I had to remind him that I was now 18, a year over the legal age and therefore an adult, free to choose what I did.

Few days later I apparated to where Remus had told me, Kingsley's home, with Ron in tow so we could meet up with the Order. It was a fun evening. Screamed at by Molly, yelled at by McGonagall, praised by Mad-Eye, Kingsley, Tonks and several others for taking down what now totalled 23 Death Eaters. After Molly had yelled herself horse she tried to drown me in food. I'll admit that I hadn't been eating right for a long time, but I was hardly 'skin and bones' as she loudly claimed several times.

I was rather surprised to see that the Order had taken in new members. Quite a few of my year mates from Hogwarts were sitting around the table. They had joined up when they saw the Ministry were being idiots and not even accepting new Aurors. I wont bore you with names as it's rather depressing to think of, all but one of them died before the war ended.

There was a lot of arguing that night. The Order wanted to know what I had been doing, what task Dumbledore gave me to do. Of course, I refused to say. Molly walled about me still being just a child, Remus tried to assure me I hadn't understood Dumbledore's instructions, McGonagall claimed he would never have wanted me to do whatever it was alone. Eventually something that I rather regret happened.

Ron had grown rather tired of all the yelling, or all the Orders attention being on me. Either way he yelled at me to just tell them. When I refused he made to do so. I pulled my wand and silenced him before he could get a word out. I started yelling at him, telling him he was being an idiot, that if the Order had a leak and Voldemort found out what I was doing then it would all be over, that Hermione's death would have been for nothing. Unnoticed by me, Molly had pulled her wand and unsilenced Ron. I think she did it just so Ron was able to tell everyone what I'd been up to. He jumped up and started yelling, "If you wont tell them about the H-". And that was as far as he got. I snapped my wand up and bellowed out an Obliviate. Took every memory he had that had something to do with Horcruxes. He knew that we had been looking for something but not what. Man did that start a shitstorm. Nearly everyone was shouting at me. Ron, once the confusion wore off and he realised what had happened, pulled his wand on me. It was at that point I left. Just apparated out. What I didn't realise was I'd apparated clean through the wards set around Kingsley's home.

See, that's something I hadn't yet realised, and wouldn't really for some time. I was powerful, more powerful than previously. I could fight longer, apparate further, preform spells easier and apparently apparate through wards designed to block it. I might as well tell you at this point instead of when I first understood what had happened.

For some reason or other, no doubt 'for the greater good', Dumbledore had decided it would be a grand idea to restrain my magical core. I'm not sure at what point he did this exactly, all I know is it was sometime after I'd entered Hogwarts in my first year. Now apparently this isn't such an uncommon thing, parents do it to their children if the child is too strong without any control and it's what my parents did to me before they were killed. However the binding is normally placed when the child is young then removed once they hit Hogwarts. Dumbledore, in all his infinite wisdom, did the opposite. He strengthen the bindings, keeping about eighty percent of my magic bound. The problem is, magic doesn't like being bound. Once the child has reached Hogwarts age, their magical core has grown strong enough to fight the bindings, corrode them. Dumbledore renewing the bindings on a core that had been getting stronger and fighting for freedom for several years required him to renew them several times a year after that, to strengthen them and make sure they didn't snap. With his death, the bindings were no longer being refreshed and had started to weaken, thus releasing an ever increasing amount of my magic, making me stronger. The last vestiges of the binding snapped when I tried to apparate out of that Order meeting, releasing it's stranglehold on my core and allowing me to punch my way through the ward.

When I arrived back at Grimmauld Place I instantly collapsed to the floor screaming in agony. All the released magic was thundering around my body like a heard of rabid Hyppogriffs. Since Dumbledore's death the bindings had been releasing small amounts of magic back to me. As I said, my core was eighty percent bound, after a year and some months without renewal the bindings had leaked about thirty percent of the restrained magic back to me at a slow but steady pace. When the binding snapped, roughly fifty percent of my total magic suddenly flooded back into my system in a matter of seconds. It felt like I was being beaten by bludgers while set on fire, frozen, then set on fire again. I don't know how long it lasted, could have been minutes or hours. It felt like days but it wasn't.

Eventually I came back to my senses and found myself laying on the floor of the kitchen. I had totally wrecked it. I wont go in to detail, but the large, solid iron cooker was nothing but a puddle of melted scrap metal. That should give you some idea of just how trashed the place was.

After prying myself off the floor I stumbled to the closest room with a bed and slept for the next three days. I had just about enough sense in my to tweak the wards to let no one, not even Ron, into the house.

When I woke a few days later I found many changes, and not all of them were good.

-

A/N: Not much to say here really. This fic has already got away from me. I was planning on barely mentioning Voldemort and his destruction but as you can see, that plan went out of the window.

Next chapter will see the end of Voldemort and the start of my main idea behind this fic. I would have put it all in one chapter but I thought this was a nice place to leave off. Also stops the chapter from getting too long.

Fans of FftL shouldn't despair. I haven't abandoned it, I've just...Lost focus on it. I have been writing bits and pieces for it but then this jumped to mind and got in my way. I thought I'd write this, get it out of my system. I have redone parts of the first three chapters for FftL, made the reading smoother and stuff.

With this fic I decided to write in a different style. I haven't seen it too much in HP fan fiction and thought I'd give it a crack. I rather like writing like this.

Next chapter of this fic will be up when it's up. It wont be too long though.

Cya later.