Alone, Harry walked through the gates of Hogwarts, as if no wards existed around the place, and marched purposefully toward the entrance. There was no need for support: This would be just as easy as it had been to take over the Ministry.
Moving along smoothly, gazing up at the castle he once called home, he suddenly felt a strange jolt of pain in his chest that made him stop in his tracks. He closed his eyes and it subsided, but when he opened them again, and looked up at the looming form of the castle, it returned.
The pain overwhelmed him and he fell to his knees. He looked around, peering through the darkness, wondering if someone in the shadows was hitting him with a curse. He cast a quick shield charm, but the consuming pain continued. This was not caused by a curse.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to steady his breathing. This would not do. As had done in the forest, a series of images washed over him, some of them from Harry's time at Hogwarts, and some from Tom Riddle's.
Images from the last battle, from both perspectives, assaulted him. Fear, hate, victory, anger, sorrow, love, death, death…
It was all at once so contradictory and so similar. He was having trouble sorting out which emotion belonged to which consciousness, and indeed which consciousness was currently conscious in him.
But the memories from before that night overwhelmed him as well. There was fondness, and longing, but there was something more…
He struggled to master himself against this unexpected assaulting force. He pushed aside all thought and memory of the past and concentrated on his current objective. He climbed back to his feet, pleased to find that his breathing had steadied, and that his heart had slowed its pace. He moved forward with renewed determination.
The large double doors leading into the castle flew open before him. He kept his eyes focused straight ahead as he passed through, into the Entrance Hall, and on into the Great Hall.
Gasps and awed and excited whispers of "It's Harry Potter" from the students greeted his entrance. He had arrived, as he planned, during dinner. The whole school was seated, separated by house as always. He looked around at them as he walked casually across the hall, smiling. Many of the smaller students got to their feet to look at him as he passed and he waved indulgently. He thought he even saw one young girl faint.
Finally, as he approached the teacher's platform, he allowed his eyes to fall on the Headmistress.
"Minerva," he said jovially. "How good to see you again. I trust that you are well?"
Her eyes narrowed and she visibly cringed as he shook her hand. She was in the Order, he knew. She believed she was clasping the hand of Lord Voldemort.
"I have some wonderful news for you, Minerva," he said, taking a roll of parchment from his robes. "I know you have wanted to retire for a while now, and have just been waiting for a suitable replacement. Well, the Board of Governors has just appointed a new Headmaster!"
"And, who, might I ask, have they appointed?" she asked through gritted teeth.
Harry smiled.
"Me."
The students sitting closest to the platform heard him speak and began to cheer, passing the news along to their housemates.
"But Mr. Potter, you are not even a professor; you are only twenty three years old. This is ludicrous."
"Oh Minerva," he said, looking at her with a fond expression for the benefit of those watching, "I know it must be difficult to leave after all these years. I had hoped that you might stay on as Transfiguration Professor for the remainder of the year, to allow us time to find a suitable replacement, and perhaps allow you some time to adjust to the idea of leaving." Though it was usually unheard of, McGonagall had stayed on as a teacher even after her appointment as Headmistress. They had been unable to find a replacement that lived up to her very high standards.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Harry cut her off.
"I would actually like to speak to the whole of the staff, if you don't mind leaving your dinner. May we go into the antechamber?" He phrased this as a question, but he knew it was understood as an order.
Minerva opened her mouth again but then shut it, turning on her heal, gesturing to the other teachers, and marching into the antechamber.
"Neville!" Harry said as he followed the procession of Professors, coming up beside Neville Longbottom. "It's been too long. How have you been?"
He looked sideways at Harry with a strange, unreadable expression, but didn't speak. Harry wondered whether it was safe to keep Neville on at the school. He was a mediocre wizard, and wasn't really a threat, but the fewer people who mistrusted him, the easier his job here would be.
Harry began to speak immediately as they entered the antechamber.
"It's an honor to have been invited to work alongside such—"
"Oh, cut the crap, Potter," McGonagall interrupted. She had apparently become fearless in her old age. "We know who you are. You are not fooling us."
Harry smiled. "Why Professor, I'm not sure what you mean. But I can see you're too eager to discuss school business for me to waste your time with pleasantries." He looked around at the faces of the teachers and, after some subtle Legilimency, discovered that they all believed he was under the influence of Voldemort. He had been hoping to find at least a few of them ready to join him. No matter though: He would merely have to proceed slightly differently than planned.
"As you are all no doubt aware, changes are taking place within the Wizarding community. I support these changes fully, and will do everything I can to see that they are carried out. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, I wish to extend these improvements to the school and to be sure that our children are receiving the best magical education we can offer.
"There will be changes to the curriculum. Some of these changes may evoke criticism, and perhaps controversy. I do not wish to hide my eventual aims from you and will therefore inform you of my plans now and give you the chance to resign your posts if you disagree with my initiative.
"Those of you who choose to stay will be receiving revised plans of study containing instructions on what you are to teach your students. These changes will emphasize useful spells rather than household skills that could be taught at home. Muggle Studies and Divination will no longer be taught. Professor Trelawney, Professor Browning, you shall be allowed to remain on at the school while you seek other employment if you wish. I am sorry to be so blunt, but History of Magic, as it is taught now, is a joke. I believe Hermione Granger is the only student to ever actually pay attention in the class. Professor Binns will be replaced with a competent, living teacher and the curriculum will now concentrate on more recent events and educate students of the wrongs done in our society, rather than being taught to accept these discriminations and archaic values.
"During the war, students fought. They believed they were prepared for battle and they fought, and many of them died. It was an unnecessary tragedy. This will not happen again. Defense Against the Dark Arts has been laughable. Students have graduated without being able to cast a simple Stunner. I realize that much of this has been the result of incompetent teaching, but the curse has been lifted from the position, and the students will no longer receive an inadequate education as the result of others. Students will be trained in combat. They will learn how to defend themselves properly, and from real threats, rather than learning unnecessary defense from harmless creatures like Dementors. The time devoted to this revolutionized course will be extended and students will no longer have as many idle hours. They are learning irresponsibility from the light course load they have been given. Students will be in class or at meals from sunrise until late evening. They will learn the value of hard work, and—"
"You're raisin' an army," Hagrid said quietly from the back without lifting his head. "You're preparin' 'em to fight fer ya."
Harry was surprised that Hagrid had been the one to catch on first. He had expected McGonagall, or perhaps Flitwick, but then, maybe they already had but were too smart to say anything.
"I am preparing them for the real world, Professor Hagrid. I am preparing them to defend themselves. I do not wish to coddle the children."
"You are planning to manipulate them and force them into believing your misrepresented ideas, and your deception will result in an unquestioning army of children," Browning, the Muggle Studies teacher said with disgust etched on her features.
Harry really hadn't expected the teachers to accept his plans. He knew that many of them would see through his new curriculum, and was not very surprised by their reactions.
Harry smiled. "I find it unnecessary to defend myself further. If you disagree with my aims, feel free to leave your post. You will not be thought badly of."
For a moment, no one moved. Then Hagrid let out a sad, bellowing sigh and stood up.
"Hagrid, no," McGonagall hissed. "The students need you."
Hagrid didn't answer, but stumbled from the room.
"Very good," Harry said, looking around at those who had remained. "I will be busy in the coming months with advising the new Minister, and may not be as much of a presence here as I would like to be. I will be counting on you all to uphold these new, long overdue changes and will be watching to see that you do. The new History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers have been appointed and should be arriving shortly. Care of Magical Creatures will be disbanded indefinitely."
He swept from the room without waiting for a response. No response was necessary. They weren't happy about his presence, he knew, but they had no choice but to follow him. Should they refuse, they would be dealt with.
"So we go tonight," Hermione said firmly, without a trace of fear in her voice.
"Hermione, please think about what you are planning," Molly said for what had to be the hundredth time. "This is reckless, this is stupid, and this is unnecessary. You will get us all captured or killed."
"Our plan is good," Hermione said. "In my experience, places wizards believe to be secure are never as impenetrable as they'd like to believe they are."
"But this isn't Hogwarts, or the Ministry, or—"
"Or Gringotts?" Hermione interjected. "Gringotts was supposed to be more secure even than Azkaban, but we got in there without much of a problem. We can do this. We can break into Azkaban."
"Hermione's right," Ron said, but the slightly wild tone of his voice made Hermione question her own plans and recklessness, rather than feel reassured. "We can't just let them suffer in there, especially with the Dementors back."
Molly looked ready to argue further, but didn't. It was, after all, among others, her husband and son they were planning to rescue.
"Alright," Hermione said, taking control back. "Everyone who is coming, try to get some sleep. Be prepared to leave at 3am."
Walking the silent halls of Hogwarts, Harry found it much more difficult to suppress the strange pain in his chest than he had when he had been set in his objective, in the Great Hall, surrounded by people.
The well worn path he tread, so familiar and yet so foreign, seemed to cause the pain of remembrance and conflicting emotions to amplify with each step he took. It was as though there were something inside of him, struggling to break free.
A smile graced his lips as he approached the stone gargoyle blocking the entrance to the Headmaster's office. He suppressed the uncomfortable feeling in his chest and began to speak.
"I am now the rightful Headmaster of Hogwarts. This is my office."
The Gargoyle, somewhat surprisingly, didn't put up a fight, but stepped aside to allow him entrance.
As Harry ascended the spiraling staircase, he felt the pain in his chest subside slightly. The memories he associated with this particular place were very different from those of the rest of the castle. There was no happiness here: Guilt, overwhelming anger, grief, and horror, yes, but no happiness.
He looked around the office as he entered, taking in the delicate silver instruments still left from Dumbledore's days as Headmaster, his eyes finally resting on the portrait hanging behind the desk.
"Hello, Professor," he said conversationally. The portrait peered out at him with an almost unreadable expression, but didn't speak.
"It's been too long. I should have come to visit sooner, I know, but I've been quite busy the last five years. No matter now, though. Soon you'll have had enough of my presence. You may have already heard, the portraits do like to gossip I know. It seems I will be taking your old post."
"I have indeed heard," the portrait finally said gravely. "But I am quite curious as to why you should desire this, given your eventual goals. What is Hogwarts compared to the larger world, Tom?"
Harry chuckled. "Not you as well," he said. "What have I done that is so atrocious that even my closest friends feel they need to deny my identity?"
"I am not a fool, Tom. Do not treat me as such," Dumbledore answered simply.
"No, you are not," Harry agreed. He could speak honestly to this portrait as he could to no one else. There was no need for false pretences. These portraits, he knew, were bound to serve the current Headmaster. It was perhaps unwise to share all of his secrets, but he knew the portraits could never betray him as long as he remained Headmaster.
"You are not a fool," he continued, "But your wisdom, even in all its glory, has failed you. You were incorrect on one assumption at least."
"It would appear so, but let us hope, for the sake of many, that it was just the one."
"What does it matter? Your arguable successes in fighting against Voldemort have proved irrelevant compared to your one, rather large mistake." Harry spoke with both sarcasm and hate. The hate was the combined force of both Voldemort's ingrained hatred for the man, and traces of Harry's own more muted resentment that the man had so abysmally failed him. This aspect was so subtle that Harry was barely aware of it.
"I believe the mistake you are referring to was my assumption that the Horcrux in Harry would be destroyed by the Killing curse you hit him with?"
"Other than your use of pronouns, that is the mistake to which I am referring."
"Do you deny that you are indeed Lord Voldemort then?" Dumbledore asked.
"I am Harry Potter, old man, but I will not deny that Lord Voldemort's powers and memories have been absorbed into my being. We have indeed become one, though it is I, Harry Potter, who is in control."
"Harry would never do the things you have done, Tom. Harry was a good man; a better man than most. Harry Potter refused power infused with evil once, and he will do so again, if he is able."
Harry chuckled. "I assume you are referring to this?" He raised the Elder Wand. Dumbledore lowered his eyes.
"I have grown beyond the idiotic boy you once manipulated and groomed for a martyr. I have seen what a fool I was to believe the convoluted and hypocritical ideals you once preached. I have gained power and wisdom beyond what you, or even Voldemort himself ever possessed, and I have finally learned the truth you kept from me. I have finally learned of the illusion of good and evil. I have learned what it is to possess true and complete power."
"And how do you intend to use that power?" a familiar voice came from Harry's right and he turned to face it, trying to keep his anger in check. Something in his mind roared with fury, and he was sure that his eyes shone red.
"Snape," he spat. The man in the portrait just raised a single eyebrow at him, without changing his expression.
"I must say, it is difficult to imagine power the likes of which only the Dark Lord ever had inside the body of such an untalented boy," Snape leered. "Though I must also say, it is difficult to imagine such evil consuming the son of Lily Evans."
Harry regained himself and smiled at the portrait. "I must admit, Severus, it is difficult for me to know how to react to you."
"I'd imagine it would be," Dumbledore added. "Harry alone would have trouble reacting to him now that he knows the truth, but combined with the hatred you, Tom, must feel for the man who was able to betray and fool—"
"Silencio," Harry shouted angrily and Dumbledore's portrait fell silent.
"I am curious, Severus," Harry continued calmly, as though nothing had happened. "How were you able to deceive Lord Voldemort so completely, and for so long?"
Snape peered out at him with a blank expression, but didn't answer.
"You will answer me, Severus. Do you forget that you are now bound to serve me in a way much more absolute than you once were?"
"To whom do you refer when you say 'me'?" Snape asked.
"Whichever you choose: I believe you were bound to serve both of us."
"Fooling you, My Lord," he said with unmasked disdain, "was quite simple. You saw in me what you wanted to believe, and never thought to question it."
"But I, or rather, Lord Voldemort killed you, Severus. In the end, the Dark Lord was triumphant."
"You say you are partially Lord Voldemort, but commanded by Harry Potter. If that is so, I am surprised that you call being controlled by Potter triumph."
With some difficulty, Harry arranged his features into a smile. "We shall see, in the end, Severus, who triumphs over whom."
A/N: For those of you waiting for some more displays of power, you won't have to wait much longer.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed. The reviews keeps me writing even though this is getting really difficult to write...