The Purge

Did I mention I'm open to prank ideas as well? Harry's revenge on Dumbledore is going to mostly be petty as he doesn't quite realize how deep Dumbles' manipulations run. At least, not yet.

You Have Forgiven

A knock at the door drew Harry out of his reading. While he was not really an avid reader, he was determined to learn anything that could help him in his plans. He'd been in the middle of a text on wards when the knock had sounded.

"Unless it's Sirius out there, I suggest you leave," he replied.

"Harry, please, I need to speak with you." It was Hermione.

"If you're here to preach self-righteously about how you were just following the headmaster's orders and did nothing wrong, you can piss off."

"That's not why I'm here! Harry, I just need a moment."

Harry shared a look with Hedwig, who had taken up a post on top of the dresser since being returned to his care. The owl twisted her head around and back again before giving a sharp bark.

"Do I have to?" Harry asked her softly.

"Preck!"

"Fine."

He marked his place in the book and rose to answer the door. He opened it only a fraction, just enough so that Hermione could see his face.

"What is it?" he asked in a rather petulant manner.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked Harry right in the eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, all right? I made a mistake, a really awful mistake, and I feel absolutely horrid. I knew you would feel excluded by my lack of letters, but I never fully realized just how much it would hurt you. It was selfish and stupid and I'm sorry. I know apologizing can't change the fact that I basically put our four years of friendship at risk, but I am hoping that you can forgive me and I am willing to do whatever it takes to make it up to you."

Harry's brow furrowed in thought and he gave a quick glance around the hallway behind her.

"I noticed Ron isn't here to apologize," he said.

"No," Hermione replied with a disgruntled sigh. "He's convinced you overreacted and isn't willing to admit that he made a mistake."

"So, nothing I didn't expect." Harry gave her a look and realized she really was sincere about apologizing. As much as he was coming to be a ruthless, unforgiving bastard, he still held a soft-spot in his heart for his friends. At least the friends who were willing to admit a mistake and apologize. "Want to come in? I could use some human company."

Hermione entered the room cautiously and took in the rather bleak surroundings. The room had obviously belonged to a Slytherin, though Harry had made no attempt to have that changed. In fact, Harry seemed to almost fit with the room's décor. It was slightly unnerving.

"What are you reading, Harry?" she asked, trying to break the ice.

"A book on wards," he said casually. "I'm trying to figure out how they work, but I haven't taken Ancient Runes. Makes me feel even stupider for taking Divination."

"Would you like me to help you? We've been learning a bit about ward construction in Ancient Runes and I've been doing some extra credit work on how they function and what disrupts them."

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry with a small smile. "I don't have much of a head for this stuff anyway. You know I'm better at practical things."

"Oh yes, flinging spells and chasing dragons on a broomstick you can do, but you're all thumbs at theory."

"I understand the symbols, though. I've got them memorized, but I just don't know how they're supposed to work together."

"If you want to do some independent research on the subject, I'd be happy to tutor you."

"Even with O.W.L.s this year?"

"Oh, well, yes, even with the O.W.L.s. There are some other students in the class who do as well as I do, though. I can give you their names if you need someone to study with if I'm busy."

"Thanks, Hermione. Though I doubt anyone is as good as you in any magical class."

"I don't know everything, Harry. I know for a fact that you outclass me in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Then we'll compromise. I'll help you study for DADA and you teach me Runes."

Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up the book.


While Harry wouldn't say he'd completely forgiven Hermione, he was on far better terms with her than he was with Ron. At least Hermione had had the decency to apologize and offer her help. Ron seemed to think that everything was fine and got annoyed when Harry didn't immediately welcome him back with open arms.

Harry also didn't have much trust or regard for the members of the Order of the Phoenix. From what he could tell, they weren't really doing anything. He'd managed to glean the information that Voldemort was after something, though what it was and why he wanted it were rather suspiciously omitted from the conversation. Still, Harry figured that what the Order did to waste their time was none of his concern as he was going to end the war on his own and had no interest in any of them getting involved.

He only willingly spoke with Sirius and Hermione. Anyone else, he cut off with a firm glare when they tried to engage him in conversation. Molly Weasley quickly became enraged by his behavior and had attempted to browbeat him into submission, before he reminded her rather firmly that she was not his mother and had no authority over him. While the Weasley matriarch had been something of a mother figure to him, it did not entitle her to dictate what he could and could not do, especially with his actual guardian being right there. He was also still wary when it came to Remus, owing to the man's steadfast devotion to Dumbledore; he hoped that he could convince the man that the headmaster was not as perfect as he thought, but he hadn't had much luck so far.

Most of the time, Harry kept himself shut away in his room which had once belonged to Regulus Black. Harry found it strangely fitting that he was using the room of a dead Death Eater to secretly plan ways of killing Death Eaters, but Harry soon found that Regulus was not quite as reprehensible as his compatriots.

It had happened rather accidentally. He'd been poking around the room and the decrepit old house elf, Kreacher, snuck in and started saying some nasty things about Harry polluting "Master Regulus'" old room and about what shame the presence of all the "mudbloods and blood-traitors" in the house was causing and other nasty comments. Harry, in a fit of temper, had told Kreacher rather sharply: "Maybe if your beloved master hadn't joined Voldemort and his band of thugs, he wouldn't be dead."

Kreacher had sputtered and made an attempt to get angry, only to break down in ugly sobs. Harry had been reminded, somewhat, of Dobby when the little fellow thought he had done something wrong or committed an offence. Harry, despite his vindictive streak, still had those horrible remnants of Gryffindor nobility.

"Kreacher, I'm sorry," he said. "I suppose Regulus is a sore point for you. But, you have to understand that Voldemort didn't care whether your master died. He used him like a tool and saw him disposed of when he wasn't useful anymore."

"Filthy half-blood doesn't know what it's talking about," Kreacher wheezed. "Poor Master Regulus is dead and Kreacher couldn't stop it. But oh, how Kreacher tried! Kreacher should not have left Master Regulus! Kreacher should have gotten help!"

"Wait, you mean you were there when he died?" said Harry.

"Kreacher would have stayed, he would. But Master Regulus is ordering Kreacher to leave and tell no one in the Black family what is happening."

"Kreacher, I'm not in the Black family. Tell me what happened to Regulus."

"Why would filthy half-blood care?"

"Because I want the one responsible for his death to be punished. He was clearly a young man who got caught up in something he didn't fully understand. He made a mistake in joining Voldemort, but he was young and just wanted to make his parents proud."

So the story unfolded. Kreacher being sent to accompany Voldemort to the cave and nearly dying, but coming home as ordered and telling Regulus about the locket. Regulus going to the cave and drinking the cursed potion and then ordering Kreacher to take the locket and destroy it, before he was dragged off to the murky depths of the lake by the inferi. Harry had promised himself he wouldn't feel pity for Death Eaters, but in that moment he couldn't help but feel sorry for Regulus. The young man really had gotten in over his head and then tried to make it right by taking down Voldemort.

"Kreacher, where is the locket?"

"It is being downstairs in the cabinet that the blood-traitors have been ransacking. Kreacher tried to destroy it, he did! But Kreacher couldn't!"

"Kreacher, if you get me the locket, I will try and find a way to destroy it."

"Filthy half-blood will help Kreacher keep promise?"

"I will try. I need to find out what type of magic is on it, though."

"Master Regulus knew. He was keeping journal."

The elf popped away and then reappeared with an old leather-bound journal.

"Kreacher is not prying into Master Regulus' secrets, but filthy half-blood can."

Harry quickly used a detection charm on the book and was thankful he had. Several Dark spells were on it; which Harry knew he would need help in removing.

"And the locket?"

Kreacher handed him a rather gaudy silver pendant that was embedded with small emeralds in the shape of an 'S.' Harry thanked Kreacher and, again, promised to do everything he could to destroy the locket.


September 1st arrived, bright and sunny, and Harry was in search of a train compartment. The Order had delivered him, Hermione, and the Weasleys to the station and he'd quickly separated from them, knowing that Hermione and Ron had to go to a meeting in the prefects' carriage. How Ron ended up becoming a prefect was an absolute mystery to Harry as Ron wasn't particularly driven, or hardworking, or rule-abiding, or academically gifted. Harry knew he wouldn't be chosen as prefect, and to be honest he was actually rather satisfied with that arrangement as it would only interfere with his plans.

He soon found himself in an almost-empty compartment. The only other person inside was a young girl who seemed to be reading her magazine upside-down.

"Um, do you mind if I join you?" he asked.

She lowered her magazine and stared at him with slightly unfocused, protuberant, silvery eyes. Her face was framed with a mess of dirty blonde curls, she had her wand tucked behind her left ear, and around her neck she had a necklace of Butterbeer corks.

"Not at all," she said in a dreamy voice. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

Harry stared at her for a moment, caught a bit off guard.

"Well, you were here first," he said. "It's not like I have any business objecting to your presence."

She gave a small nod and a misty smile before gesturing for him to take a seat. After he stowed his trunk and Hedwig's cage (having already sent her on ahead), he sat opposite his new travelling companion, who was looking over her magazine again.

"Are you planning a murder, Harry Potter?"

Harry reeled back in his seat and his hand moved towards his pocket where his wand was. The girl simply lowered her magazine once again and stared at him with those large, unsettling eyes.

"You have that look about you, you know," she continued. "It's easy to see that you're angry at someone. Or many someones. Are you going to kill them?"

"Why do you want to know?" Harry asked, his suspicion peaked.

"You just strike me as the type to take preemptive action. With You-Know-Who back, I suspect you have quite a good deal of work cut out for you."

"Wait, you believe me, then?"

"Of course. Daddy wrote in our magazine that you're telling the truth, and I believe Daddy."

Harry blinked a few times. She was perfectly serious.

"I see. Well, you know me, but I don't think I've met you before. What's your name?"

"I'm Luna Lovegood. And I'm not surprised we've never met. I'm in Ravenclaw and a year behind you."

"It's nice to meet you, Luna."

"It is nice to meet you, too, Harry Potter. If you need someone to give you an alibi while you commit those murders, I'm available anytime outside of normal class hours."

"Uh, thanks, Luna."

"You're welcome."

They were joined shortly after by a nervous Neville Longbottom and a determined Ginny Weasley. Ginny had been another nuisance in his life lately; while she seemed to have mostly gotten over her childhood infatuation with him (or, at least, did a good job of hiding it), she was trying relentlessly to ingratiate herself into his very small circle of friends – which had gotten smaller since he wasn't speaking with Ron.

"Hey, Neville," said Harry. "How was your summer?"

"It was good," Neville replied. "I got a really great present for my birthday."

"Another Remembrall?"

"No, though I could probably use one. I lost the old one ages ago."

"It didn't really help you much anyway. What's the point in knowing you've forgotten something if it doesn't tell you what you've forgotten?"

"Good point, Harry. But, anyway, I got this new plant." He pulled out a pot containing a strange, bulbous thing that somewhat resembled a grey cactus. "Mimbulus Mimbletonia."

Neville then attempted to show them the plant's defense mechanism, which resulted in a foul-smelling grey substance exploding over the whole compartment. Well, at least Harry was certain of one thing; it was going to be an interesting year.