Chapter 4
Inheritance
Harry awoke the next morning to something he hadn't felt in over a year: his scar was searing painfully.
Instantly awake, Harry's mind started frantically trying to assess what it could mean. According to Dumbledore, Voldemort had been using Occlumency against Harry since last summer, closing off the connection between their minds. If Voldemort had reopened the connection, it was possible he was trying to extract information from Harry. He shuddered at this thought and decided he should probably start studying Occlumency again.
After a quick shower in his lavish bathroom and an equally quick breakfast of eggs and toast (there wasn't much food left in the house), he returned to his room to dress for his trip to Hogwarts. When he entered, he noticed that the delivery owl had already dropped off his copy of the Daily Prophet.
As soon as he saw the front page, a sickening feeling swelled in the pit of his stomach. His previous thoughts of Voldemort came rushing back in a heartbeat.
"Oh no…" he whispered, as he read the article in disbelief.
You-Know-Who Strikes Again
The Dark Mark seen over local Muggle-born's house
At 3:30 of this morning, August 1, the Dark Mark was reported seen over the house of Dr. Michael Granger(41) and Dr. Jean Granger(39), both Muggles. The Grangers have one daughter, Muggle-born witch Hermione Granger(17).
From what can be gathered so far, the Granger residence in Watford was attacked by Death Eaters early this morning. Both Michael and Jean were murdered by use of the Killing Curse. Preliminary reports from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries also revealed slight nerve damage, a sign of excessive exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. The Death Eaters went on to set fire to the house and set off the Dark Mark before leaving the scene.
The only conclusion that can be drawn at this time as to the reason behind this attack is You-Know-Who's common practice of torturing and killing Muggles and Muggle-born witches and wizards.
Even stranger than this seemingly unprovoked attack was an ominous note found nearby. It was discovered by the squad dispatched by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, yet no one has been able to make sense of it. It reads:
"Your girlfriend has only you to thank."
Aurors from the DMLE have already begun searching for clues as to who might be behind this attack and trying to make sense of the only piece of evidence found.
For more on You-Know-Who's recent attacks, see page 11.
As Harry read, he felt his knees grow weaker and weaker until he slowly dropped to the ground. He reread it again and again, each time hoping it would magically transform into some article over a new policies of the Floo Network Authority, or anything else. And the more he wished it not to be true, the more he was mocked by the blown-up picture of the Dark Mark hanging over his best friend's house.
It didn't take much to figure out what the note had meant. Clearly, Voldemort had seen Hermione in Harry's mind the previous night. He may have even forced his way into Harry's mind and discovered Harry's unrequited feelings for her.
If that was the case, Voldemort wasted no time using that information against Harry where it would hurt the most. Harry knew that Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to hurt anyone he held close just to get to him. But he didn't know Voldemort could do it so easily.
Harry managed to pull himself together and stand up just in time to race into the bathroom and empty the contents of his stomach, namely the breakfast he just ate, into the toilet.
.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.
As soon as Harry regained his composure, he threw on whatever clothes he could find and Apparated away to the Burrow.
He landed on the soft grass and quickly strode toward the front door. The beautiful sunny weather from the day before had been replaced by dull, overcast conditions. Harry sighed nervously, the dreary climate doing nothing to placate the tension of the situation.
Upon reaching the front door, Harry heard voices on the other side of the house. As he listened closer, he could tell it was a girl and a guy. He paused, his hand outstretched, about to knock on the door, and listened intently. Making up his mind after he heard the female voice sob, he headed around to the back of the house.
There, sitting on a bench in the garden, were Ron and Hermione. Ron looked up when Harry approached, but his face was expressionless. Hermione had her head buried in Ron's chest and was crying softly as Ron consolingly rubbed up and down her back. Harry noticed her hair was much bushier than he had remembered seeing it in a long time.
Harry cautiously opened the gate, not knowing what to say or how Hermione would react. He desperately hoped that Hermione hadn't deduced what the note might have meant. The latch of the gate clicked loudly behind him and Hermione looked up at the noise. Her eyes were red and puffy and tears were still steaming down her face and slowly falling to the ground.
Harry could stop himself from thinking how pretty she was and how he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and comfort her. Somehow, Harry knew that Hermione would never again be as beautiful as she was at that moment. And that thought made Harry feel immense happiness, and yet, at the same time, immense despair.
Hermione's face was full of emotional anguish when she looked up. As soon as she saw Harry, he could see changes going through her, like she didn't know what to think. He could see she was distraught, but also confused, unsure what to make of Harry standing there. But her face soon hardened slightly at the sight of Harry. She carefully got to her feet, Ron steadying her, and briskly walked towards Harry, her expression growing colder with each step.
"Hermione," Harry choked out, as she drew nearer, "I'm so sorry. You have every right to be mad-"
SLAP
Harry was cut off by Hermione's hand striking him hard across the face. She had used all the force she could muster, and Harry was knocked back a step. His face stinging, he looked up to see Hermione's expression changed immediately. She grew miserable once more, though Harry didn't know if she regretted hitting him or not. Without a word, she turned and swiftly walked into the house.
Harry stared for several minutes, his cheek burning as much as his heart. His physical pain had quickly turned to grief, guilt, and nausea. He knew Hermione had every reason to do what she did, and to blame him, but he couldn't get over the fact that he had most likely lost one of his two best friendships.
"I guess I deserved that," Harry said to himself, but aloud.
"You sure did," Ron answered, his voice lacking any inflection.
Ron stood up and walked over to Harry, making his steps deliberately slow.
"Hermione's not stupid, you know," he told Harry. "She figured out what that note meant. Apparently you have feelings for her."
"Look, Ron, it doesn't mean anything—" Harry started, but Ron cut him off.
"And it seems you can't keep her out of your thoughts," he said through gritted teeth.
"Ron, I'm sorry. You know I always had trouble with Occlumency. I feel terrible, I don't know what to do."
"Ever since our first year, I've had to live in your shadow. You always got everything and I just got brushed aside," Ron went on, his voice steadily rising. "And once I got something, you wanted it for yourself. You never liked Hermione until she was with me."
By now, Ron's fists were clenched and he was shaking with anger. "And now you've dragged her down with you." Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He thought that if anyone would understand, it would be Ron. But now, all these repressed feelings were flooding out of him.
"I always put up with your shit because we were friends," Ron was practically yelling now.
"Are you going crazy? You think I asked for this life!? You think I'm glad I grew up never knowing my parents and having the most powerful dark lord constantly trying to do me in?!" Harry exclaimed, feeling his face flush with anger.
CRACK
Harry didn't have time to react as Ron's fist came around and connected with his face. He fell down hard on his tailbone, his mouth aching sharply. Ron simply rubbed his knuckles as Harry stared up at him in disbelief. A metallic taste was filling his mouth and it felt like his jaw had shattered.
"Just stay the hell away from me, Harry," Ron spat disdainfully. "If you ever hurt my family or my girlfriend again, I'll—I'll make you regret it."
And with that, Ron stormed off into the house, leaving Harry on the ground, his jaw on fire. He rolled over to spit the blood out of his mouth before standing up. Feeling worse than he had ever felt in his life, he made his way out of the garden. Ok, looks like I'm two for two with best friendships, Harry thought bitterly.
Each step Harry took away from the Burrow sent him farther from his greatest source of happiness and comfort, and deeper into loneliness and despair. He knew he had to do everything he could to try to make things right. And the first thing he had to do in order to right things was get rid of Voldemort.
"Harry, wait!" a voice called to him as he made his way away from the house. Harry turned to see Ginny running up to him.
"Did you come to hit me as well?" Harry asked humorlessly.
"Well, you know how Ron has a quick temper. He just overreac-"
"No, Ginny, he didn't overreact," Harry cut her off forcefully. "If anything, they both let me off easy."
"I suppose you think this is your fault." It wasn't a question
"It was my fault!" exclaimed Harry. "If I had learned Occlumency properly, this wouldn't have happened. Or if I didn't have these stupid mixed-up feelings."
"Harry, you can't save everyone," Ginny said, her annoyance apparent. "Everyone knows Ron and Hermione are your best friends."
"Used to be," Harry muttered.
Ginny went on as if she didn't hear him, "Voldemort has known for a while and could've attacked at any time."
"But I practically pointed them out to Voldemort. If they had protection-"
"It wouldn't have mattered," Ginny cut him off. "Snape killed the greatest sorcerer in history, in the safest building in Britain. And he's nothing compared to Voldemort. Nobody's protected well enough."
Harry still didn't look convinced, and Ginny seemed to notice. "Harry, this is a war. People die. You have to understand that. I thought you would've figured that out after Sirius and Dumbledore."
Harry was visibly hurt by this comment and explained, "But Hermione's parents weren't involved! They weren't trying to protect me. They didn't do a damn thing!"
Ginny reached out and put a hand on Harry's arm, trying to comfort him. "I know it's hard, but there's nothing you can do about it anymore. You have to focus on Voldemort. He's the one responsible for all of this, not you. You have to find the rest of the Horcruxes so you can end all of this."
This seemed to pacify Harry a little and he relaxed slightly. "Don't you mean 'we'?" he asked in response to her last statement.
"C'mon Harry, I'm not stupid. It's clear you're not planning on going back to Hogwarts this year," answered Ginny.
"Am I that obvious?" Harry smirked slightly.
"I know you wouldn't be able to go to classes when there's so much work to be done."
"Thanks for understanding, Ginny," Harry told her and she engulfed him in a huge hug.
"Just watch out for yourself," Ginny told him, while squeezing him tightly.
When they eventually broke apart, Harry said, "Do me a favour." She raised her eyebrow questioningly, and he went on, "Take care of them for me," nodding his head toward the house. Ginny agreed, assuring him that she would do her best.
"And Ginny," he added, his face becoming more serious, "I will likely be doing a lot of dangerous things searching for the Horcruxes." Ginny started to look nervous, and Harry continued, "If I die-"
"Harry, don't…" Ginny pleaded and her eyes were instantly shining with unshed tears.
"No, listen… if I die, you three have to continue for me. With the Horcruxes destroyed, Voldemort will be mortal. And you can kill him. Do you understand?"
After several minutes of silence, Ginny nodded.
"Promise me," Harry said.
Ginny looked up at him and hesitated for a second, but then whispered, "I promise."
"Thanks. I'll do my best to stay out of trouble."
Harry remembered something else. "Oh, one more thing. I think you three should start up the D.A. again. I don't know if you'll have a good Defense professor, but it wouldn't hurt to have extra practice. Just don't tell them it was my idea… they're probably not very keen on listening to me right now."
Ginny told him she would mention it. With that, they said their goodbyes and Harry Disapparated from the Burrow. For several minutes, Ginny stood there, staring off to the horizon, her long, red hair swishing about. "Good luck, Harry," she whispered into the light, summer breeze, before returning to the house.
.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.
Harry reappeared on the winding dirt road between the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
After checking behind him, he set off up the road. He was going to be late meeting with McGonagall, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. He tried not to think about the events he just experienced on his long walk up to the school. He instead wondered what this upcoming meeting might be about.
In no time, he had reached the main gate. Fortunately for him, it wasn't locked at the moment and he was able to enter unassisted. He wasn't sure he could summon enough happiness to form a Patronus just now. From here it was a short walk across the school grounds and up to the large, oak doors at the entrance.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice that his feet were carrying him along the familiar path to the headmaster's office. When he snapped out of it, he found himself standing in front of the gargoyle guarding the entrance.
"Lemon drop," Harry spoke clearly.
The gargoyle sprang to life and hopped out of the way, allowing access to the moving staircase behind it. Harry hopped on and rode it up to the landing at the top. The large wooden door to the office still had an ornate griffin knocker, which Harry used. The door immediately opened for him, and Harry stepped into the office.
It looked quite similar to how it did when Dumbledore was headmaster. The only difference was the absence of the tiny silver instruments around the room, and the phoenix perch. All the Headmasters and Headmistresses, including Dumbledore, were asleep. The only person that noticed Harry's arrival was behind the large, claw-footed desk.
Professor McGonagall was sitting there, dressed in crimson robes, looking agitated. She seemed to be working on several letters, but glanced up as Harry entered.
"Good morning, Mr. Potter," she greeted him, shuffling the parchment to the side to clear room. She gestured to one of the chairs facing the desk, saying, "Please, sit down."
"Headmistress," he addressed her, bowing slightly, before taking the nearest chair. "I'm sorry I'm late, I was just… just at the Burrow…"
"Of course," McGonagall said with a dismissive wave of her hand, understanding perfectly. "The reason I asked to meet with you, firstly, is I was hoping you had changed your mind with regards to informing me where you went the night Dumbledore was killed."
Harry hesitated for a second, but answered, "I'm afraid I haven't. That information is too important."
McGonagall's lips pressed into a thin line, showing her disapproval of his answer. "Come now, Potter," she said, "if it is important, I should need to be informed."
"I'm sorry, but what we were doing, it's…" Harry thought for a second, and then went on with a slight smirk, "it's crucial to defeating Voldemort. He can't find out."
"I should think that I, of all people, can be trusted," McGonagall countered.
"It's not a matter of trust. I trust you completely. However, the fewer people that know, the better," explained Harry. "Voldemort has many useful means of extracting information, and, while I trust you would never give anything away willingly, he could still get it out of you. But, he can't discover what isn't known in the first place."
"Very well," McGonagall told him, looking somewhat satisfied by his explanation. "The next thing is, I would like to offer you the position of Head Boy for the upcoming school year."
Harry had an idea that McGonagall wanted to know about the night Dumbledore died, but he certainly wasn't expecting this. "Head Boy?" he asked in disbelief. "But I'm not even a prefect."
"Regardless, I don't think anyone will argue that you are not qualified," she said simply.
"I'm honoured, professor, I really am," Harry told her, "but I'm afraid I won't be attending Hogwarts this year."
"I beg your pardon."
"It's not that I don't want to, but I have a lot of work to do, and it's much more important than classes would be."
"You do realise this year is when you take your N.E.W.T.'s?" she asked sternly.
"Yes, Headmistress, but they won't help me much if Voldemort takes over the world," Harry stated, hoping she would understand.
"You're mind is made up then?" Harry nodded. "If you're work will put an end to this war, then I can hardly disagree with your decision. Though I'm quite sure I don't approve of you taking this on alone."
"Thank you," Harry told her, ignoring her second remark.
"Should you need assistance, know that the Order will aid you in any way they can," said McGonagall. "That includes myself."
Harry thanked her again, but asked, "How is the Order faring?"
"Not well, I'm afraid," she said with a sigh. "It seems we were more dependant on Dumbledore than we thought. We are still functioning, but with much less organisation. As you can imagine, business doesn't get done as quickly as it used to." She looked up at the most recent Headmaster's portrait.
"I noticed Grimmauld Place hadn't been occupied in a while," said Harry conversationally.
"Ah, yes, I heard you talking with Remus yesterday. I assume all the wards are working properly?" McGonagall asked.
"As far as I know."
"Albus had altered them last year after the house came into your possession. He fixed it so they would respond to you, so that if anything happened to him, the wards wouldn't fall," she explained.
"But what other wards are set up?" asked Harry.
"I'm not exactly sure. I suggest you study a book on warding when you get a chance. It's very difficult magic to perform, but you should be able to become attuned to them and know when they are working or not."
"I will be sure to do that," Harry told her.
"Oh, another thing, I've learned that your house elf, Kreacher I believe, is working here in the kitchens," she said. "I talked to him about going back to work for you while you're living at Grimmauld Place. Also, another elf, Dobby, expressed an interest as well."
"I probably could use some help around the house. I'm not much of a cook, no matter how much practice I had," said Harry thoughtfully. "If it's all the same, I'd prefer Dobby. I don't like the idea of Kreacher sneaking around while I'm sleeping."
"Perfectly understandable," McGonagall said, "I shall send him over when we are done here."
"Was there more?" asked Harry, about to stand up.
"One more thing," McGonagall told him. "Albus has left several of his possessions for you, in the event something happened to him. It's time you receive them."
She stood up and walked to a shelf behind her, where a small, lidded box sat. Harry watched her lift it up and set in on the polished wood of the desk in front of him. He had no idea what Dumbledore might have left him.
"I shall be down in the kitchens informing Dobby of his new position. Please excuse me," she told him, and briskly strode out of the office.
Harry turned back to the box, his heart quickening at the prospects of what lay inside. He undid the brass latch and lifted open the paneled lid, revealing the contents.
The first thing Harry noticed was a round, stone basin, its rim etched with unfamiliar runes, and a white, shimmering light coming from the bowl. It was Dumbledore's Pensieve. Sitting next to it were several tiny corked bottles of swirling gas. Harry assumed them to be the thoughts he had been shown during the previous year. Dumbledore had probably wanted Harry to review them.
Laying behind the Pensieve was the only know relic of Godric Gryffindor: the sword Harry had pulled out of the Sorting Hat back in his second year. The light from the Pensieve caused the bright red rubies of the hilt to glow, as well as the thin, silver blade.
Harry picked up the sword and held it in front of him, sensing the ancient magic it radiated. For a moment, he thought he saw the Sorting Hat shift slightly, but figured it to be a trick of the light. He ignored it and slowly waved the sword through the air several times, the blade ringing ever so softly, before he set it back in the box.
The next item was Gaunt's ring, the destroyed Horcrux. Harry picked it up and ran his finger down the crack in the obsidian stone, the only proof that the piece of soul had been expelled from it. When he was done looking at it, he set it down next to the other destroyed Horcrux, Riddle's diary. Harry assumed Dumbledore must have saved it after he realised what it was.
All that remained unexamined was a sealed envelope bearing a phoenix stamp. On the front was Harry's name, written in the familiar looping handwriting of the late headmaster. Harry quickly tore it open and read:
Harry,
I write this knowing perfectly well that my time in this life is short. When I am gone, it will be up to you to finish our work. I have made sure to impress upon you the importance of the Horcruxes. I leave this as my last lesson to you. My last instructions.
You and I together have gone as far as possible with the facts we have, in determining the vessels and locations of Lord Voldemort's soul. You know what more you have to do. I regret leaving you with yet another burden. We are fortunate that I lasted as long as I did, but we both knew this day must come. After all, this is no longer my battle. It is yours and yours alone.
There is no doubt in my mind that you will complete the task ahead of you. Use every resource you have available, including your best friends. Do not resist asking for help merely because this is your fight. But most of all, you must believe in yourself and your abilities. You are a far greater wizard than you think. In many ways, you have surpassed even me. You must understand the power you have. So now, I must explain something to you… something I didn't have time to tell you before my death.
As I've told you, Voldemort believed completely in the prophecy. He gave it meaning. Had he not heard it, he never would have come after you or indirectly given you the very power to defeat him. And it is that power that I must tell you about.
Did you never wonder why Voldemort gave your mother a chance to live? He fought and killed your father without hesitation, so why would he give your mother a choice? The answer is simple enough. I've told you what happened to Tom Riddle's mother after giving birth to him. Tom saw this refusal to save her own life as an abandonment on Tom himself. He believed his mother did not care about him, and thus gave up on life. And this, in my opinion, is the main cause for how young Tom became Lord Voldemort: his lack of emotional attachments, his refusal to rely on anyone other than himself, his lust for power, his hate of anything that makes him seem common, all of this.
This was the reason for him allowing Lily to live. He wanted her to abandon you to death in the same way Merope did with him. He wanted Lily to run and save herself and leave you behind. The one type of magic Voldemort cannot and will not ever understand is Love (which I believe is also because of Merope). Because of this, he couldn't understand anyone sacrificing themselves to save another.
However, as you know, your mother would not give you up even to save herself. And this, I believe, is where your protection came about. Your mother begged Voldemort to kill her and spare you. And when he killed her to get to you, he sealed the magical contract she was trying to invoke. Your mother really was the brightest witch of her age. Did you not find it curious, the difference between the cool and confident vision of Lily you saw in the Pensieve and the hysterical, screaming woman she was before she died? She knew that, after begging Voldemort to kill her instead, you would be protected from him. She called upon a very ancient magic (very similar, but not as formal, to the Unbreakable Vow) and you were protected when Voldemort turned his wand on you. The curse rebounded on him.
Your mother gave you the power you need to defeat Voldemort. And in her sacrifice, she marked you as well. I am surprised that you never noticed from your photo album, but your eyes were not always green. Not until I saw you that night did I notice the profound change. With the war going on, few people saw you before your parents died. And those that did seemed to forget by not seeing you for ten years. You really do have your mother's eyes. She lives on in you. Just like your father does, with your Patronus.
I regret not being able to share this information with you until now. I regret so many things. I hope you will one day forgive me for what I have put you through, directly and indirectly. I know I seem no better than the Minister, seeing you as merely a weapon, an instrument for defeating Voldemort. But please realise my actions were to protect you. I hoped to give you what I know you have been wanting ever since reentering the wizarding world: a normal life. I'm afraid that is not possible in a world with Voldemort. It is not fair that you have carried such a burden for your entire life, or that you have experienced more horrors than anyone should have to endure in one hundred lifetimes. But you can defeat Voldemort. You have the power to end this. Don't forget who you are fighting for.
Your servant, in life and in death,
Albus Dumbledore
Harry looked up several minutes later, his emerald green eyes shining brightly.
.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.
He stood at the window for the longest time, mulling over his thoughts as he gazed down to the grounds.
He had never missed Dumbledore more than he did now. There were moments in the past when he had been furious with the old man for controlling his life in such a way. And for making him feel like nothing but a pawn. But Harry finally understood the necessity of it all. Defeating Voldemort was more important than anything. Even if Harry's happiness had to suffer occasionally, it was a small price to pay. He knew that Dumbledore had meant well.
In addition, while Harry had always tried not to think too much about the night his parents died, it was nice to understand exactly what had taken place. It was a relief to get rid of the uncertainty after so long. He noticed his eyes in his reflection in the window. My mother's eyes. That had come as the biggest shock to him. He had always wondered why it was only his mother's, and not both his parent's deaths that protected him. He liked to think that his father would have done the same, had he been given the same choice as his mother.
And then he remembered something Dumbledore had said to him at the end of his second year. "It is our choices, Harry, that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities." Great man, Dumbledore, Harry thought. His father did have a choice. He could have left his family behind and ran. Or he could have pleaded with Voldemort. But he faced him head on, to protect his wife and child. A true Gryffindor to the end.
Harry was roused from his thoughts by the sound of the office door opening and a squeaky voice calling out to him.
"Harry Potter sir!"
Harry wheeled around to see McGonagall reenter, followed closely by the house elf Dobby. Dobby looked as excited as Harry had ever seen, bobbing up and down around McGonagall's heels.
"Hi Dobby, it's been a while," Harry said, walking over to them.
"Too long, sir! Miss Headmistress is saying Dobby can come work for you," the tiny elf stated.
"Only if you want to, of course," answered Harry, but he knew what Dobby would choose.
"It would be an honour sir!" he exclaimed, beaming up at Harry with watery eyes.
"Very well then," McGonagall said, walking back to her desk to sit down. "Due to the nature of Mr. Potter's condition, we will keep you on the payroll here. I don't believe he will require your services for longer than this year."
"Miss is too kind, far too kind," Dobby squeaked. "Dobby will do an excellent job." He bowed low to the ground.
"I know you will Dobby," said Harry with a smile.
Dobby beamed back and said, "Dobby will go and get his belongings, and then move to Harry Potter's house."
"That will be great Dobby," Harry told him, and then indicated to the box of Dumbledore's effects. "Could you take this back with you? I have a few more errands to run. The house is at Number 12, Grimmauld Place."
"Of course, Harry Potter sir," Dobby nodded enthusiastically. "Dobby will have Harry Potter's lunch ready for him when he returns."
He grabbed the box and quickly disappeared with a loud crack.
Harry turned back to McGonagall sitting at her desk, who was looking intently at him.
"Well, Mr. Potter," she started, "I daresay I will see you again soon." The faintest trace of a smile played on her lips.
"Indeed, Headmistress," Harry said. "I wish you the best," he added with a small bow.
"Oh, one more thing," she said in an afterthought, "Feel free to borrow any books from the library you might need. You have my permission to access the Restricted Section."
"Thank you. Good day."
She nodded her head and Harry turned and left. He was very thankful that McGonagall understood Harry couldn't return to school. He replayed their meeting several times in his head as he strolled through the castle. He had decided to take a short walk through the halls and a quick search through the library, not knowing when he would be there again.
After half an hour had passed, Harry returned to the grounds and walked down the path towards Hogsmeade. When he felt the Anti-Apparation Ward fade, he whirled on the spot and disappeared.
.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.
After reappearing in Diagon Alley, Harry made a quick stop at the bank before he started shopping. Harry spent nearly two hours scouring both Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, entering every book shop he found. By the time he returned to Grimmauld Place, he had an incredibly extensive collection of texts on defensive and offensive magic, Occlumency, warding, several subjects he would've taken this year, and even the Dark Arts. Harry didn't particularly like the idea of studying the Dark Arts, let alone using them. But he reminded himself that Voldemort would not fight fair, and most of his Death Eaters probably didn't know the meaning of the word. It was best to be prepared. He resolved himself to the fact that he may have to fight fire with fire if he wanted to survive.
And so, he trained. And he studied. Every waking moment was spent researching in the library or training. He had cleared out the upstairs sitting room and reinforced it heavily, creating a place where he could practice spells and dueling without destroying anything.
Harry wasted no time, pushing himself as hard as was physically and mentally possible. By the time September first came, he knew for a fact that he was more powerful than any students at Hogwarts, and possibly even some of the teachers. And he was ready to begin searching the country for the Horcruxes.
A/N: Review if you wish.