Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to JKR. The plot and the OCs are my intellectual property, though.
Complete Summary: When Cedric Diggory lay dead at his feet, struck down by Peter Pettigrew's curse, Harry Potter knew the time was here. The time for the War to begin anew, and for Voldemort to try and recapture his evil dreams. The time had come for Harry to reveal all he ever was, all he'd ever stood for, and what he believed in.
The time had come to let loose the power, to pick a side, and fight the good fight that was coming. But Harry finds himself disenchanted by the Light Side, riddled by its old beliefs and prejudices, not really that different from their enemies. The government is riddled by corruption and inter-Departmental Politics, but in the end, it all comes down to power, and who holds it.
No more – this time, power returns to where it truly belongs, in the hands of the common people. The Wizengamot, though, stands in the way of this Democracy, built up so many years ago by the greatest wizard of all time, Merlin himself. Yet is it everything Merlin wanted it to be today, mired as it is in darkness and politics? Could the answer lie in the centre of all magic in Britain, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, home to Merlin himself all those years ago?
Join Harry, along with a Succubus with a slap-happy tail and a dark past, and a new set of friends – with some old ones, as he takes the fifth year head on.
And in the end, only a few questions will remain unanswered – will the Wizarding World of Britain really change? Will secrets that have remained hidden for so long within the walls of Hogwarts come to light?
And most importantly, why is there an empty seat next to Harry in Potions, and why is he the only one who seems bothered by it?
The shadows lengthen, and time starts running out as Harry Potters enters his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Chapter 11 Dreams and Duels
September 3rd, 1995
Hogwarts Castle, Gryffindor Boy's Dormitory
2:15 a.m.
It was a peaceful night in the Gryffindor's boys dormitory, as the five occupants gently snored their night away, dreaming of things that teenage boy generally dream of.
Except one of them, whose dreams had suddenly taken a turn for the worse.
Harry Potter twitched in his sleep, his face crunching into a frown. He muttered something illegible in the sleep, before turning over and burying his face in the pillow.
He opened his eyes suddenly, wrenching himself away from his meditations. He righted himself to make himself more comfortable on his throne – one of the few Malfoy heirlooms which had not struck him as gaudy and overtly obnoxious.
All the Death Eaters in the room stiffened as the stern looking owl tapped on the window. With a flick of his hand, the window opened and the bird soared in.
Anticipation was cloying the room as he unfolded the piece of paper. Triumph was etched clearly on Lucius' face as he saw the slightest of smirks appear on the Dark Lord's face. The others looked envious – all of them knew that Lucius' son had just done a huge service to the Dark Lord, something that would no doubt elevate his father's standings amongst the Death Eaters.
Their suspicions were proven true moments later, when Voldemort smiled a full, lipless smile. "Lucius?"
The Death Eater in question looked up at once from his position, "Yes, my Lord?"
"Draco..." Voldemort paused for a second "has performed adequately. I am most impressed – perhaps a place for him amongst my loyal followers when he turns sixteen is required?"
"My lord," said Lucius, his voice quavering, "there would be no higher honour – none at all! I shall pass on word to Draco at once!"
Bellatrix looked livid, and her expression only turned worse when Voldemort asked, "I believe you stand to gain quite a sum when the Blood-Traitor Black, the current head, dies?"
"Yes, my Lord," said Lucius, "though I shall donate every last knut of it to your cause should the need arise!" Next to him, Narcissa's face turned to stone, and she looked steadily at a point above Dolohov's shoulder, who was sitting opposite her.
"Then I shall bestow this honour upon you, Lucius," said Voldemort, "should Black be there tonight, he shall fall by your wand, and nobody else's..."
"My Lord," said Lucius, walking forward from the table, and to where the Dark Lord sat on his throne. He bent down and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes, "thank you, My Lord."
"It should be mine!" shrieked Bellatrix, unable to hold her fury in, but with a sharp swipe of Voldemort's wand, she was silenced.
"Overstepping bounds, Bella?" he asked, "I must confess myself disappointed." The change in Bellatrix was almost comical, her eyes went dull, and her shoulders slumped, at the slightest chastisement from her Master. Voldemort smirked again.
"I believe..." he said, "that the Head of any family should be Male, should he not, Lucius?"
Malfoy Sr. nodded. "And since Bella has produced no male heirs, and neither has the last traitor black sister, Draco is the true heir, despite being the son of the youngest Black daughter, is he not?"
Lucius nodded again and Voldemort smirked. "Perhaps, Bella, your time would have been better spent servicing your husband rather than torturing and destroying?"
A smattering of ugly laughter went around the hall, and Bella flushed.
"I spent all those years giving you the –"her eyes bulged as she was silenced by Voldemort's wand.
"And yet you overstep your bounds now, after all these years," Voldemort hissed, "it seems you are slipping, Bella. Perhaps Lucius would be a better choice to stand by my right tonight, then?"
Lucius looked up, scarcely believing his luck. "My Lord?" he asked - his face alight with hope and desperation. Bellatrix looked stricken; her eyes were welling with tears of shame and anger.
"Meet me at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London," the Dark Lord said, "guard my flank well, Lucius," said Voldemort, and disapparated with a silent whisper, using the tiny rip he had left in the wards to Lucius' home, open to him alone.
He appeared in the middle of a dusty square in London, and he immediately disliked the place. It reminded him of the atmosphere of the orphanage he had grown up in, and he immediately resolved to torch the entire area. He had no regard for the lives of Muggles who lived roundabout here; the more that died the better.
He watched in mild fascination as the house appeared before him – magic had fascinated him ever since he'd been little, truth be told.
Within five minutes, with silent pops, the Death Eaters appeared around him, wands out. He could hear Wormtail snivel – no doubt clutching his stump of an arm, the rat had been nigh insufferable for the past few weeks. Yet he could not kill the pathetic Death Eater, because Lord Voldemort was merciful, especially to those who had helped him return to full power.
Lucius walked forward, his eyes still alight, his wand out, and at the ready. Voldemort waited until he was by his side, wand at the ready –
A policeman walked into sight, opening his mouth in shock...
He never even uttered a word, as Voldemort flicked his wand even without looking, and he was dead within seconds. Another flick, barely noticeable, and he was ashes, blowing on the wind.
Rookwood shivered, as he stood among his compatriots. His punishment had not been easy upon him; he was only left alive because Voldemort sorely needed a link in the Department of Mysteries. He still twitched whenever he saw Voldemort's wand, though – a reminder of how he'd been tortured to near insanity to try and break the charm on his mind. To Rookwood's horror, and Voldemort's displeasure – it had proved too strong to remove without driving the Death Eater insane – something Voldemort could not afford...yet.
Voldemort waited another moment, while his followers saw the house appear before them. An indescribable flash of emotion passed through Bellatrix's face as she beheld the house –
Voldemort paid her no heed, striding forward masterfully. He raised his wand, and found nothing but paltry family charms – had the old fool thought that they alone would protect his hideout?
But then again, after his last disastrous failure with the Fidelius, perhaps he had decided not to cast it at all.
Something irked him, though – "Bella!" he called, snapping his fingers.
She ran forward at once like a faithful puppy, her eyes shining. "You shall be the first to walk in, I think –"
Lucius' face showed disbelief – "My Lord -?" he began uncertainly.
"-just in case something should happen. As the only member of the Black Family, I think you would be harmed least, would you not agree?"
She faltered for a moment, but it was testament to her mindless devotion that she straightened a moment later, and walked forward a moment later with nary a second glance.
Voldemort smirked as he brought down the wards with ease in a matter of minutes, while Bella waited, wand drawn. It was a simple matter – he figured that the Blacks had lived so long through their reputation alone, if their protection was anything to go by.
Bella walked in, using a simple unlocking charm on the door. There was a moment of silence, before she re-emerged from the dark hallway, her face lit up with triumph.
"Hold," hissed Voldemort, as the Death Eaters made to move forward. He rapidly cast silencing charms in the area around him, before he made a slight backward pull with his wand.
Rookwood was pulled forward, his eyes popping as a crushing force dragged him forward by the throat. "Perhaps Rookwood should go next," said Voldemort sadistically, "to ensure the safety of all those not of House Black..."
Rookwood's eyes widened in fear, but he had no time to protest as with another wand movement from Voldemort, he was thrown unceremoniously into the house, his landing muffled by the Silencing Charms.
The traps, though, which Albus Dumbledore had set around the hallway, did not go off. They were of a most curious kind, and required enormous magical power within a person to set off. In fact, only three people in Britain could trigger them at the moment; and one of them had set the trap, while the other two were connected by a magical link. Not for long, though...
A few seconds passed, and everyone let out a sigh of relief. The Dark Lord remained a bit worried, though, since the silence and lack of reaction was too suspicious. But then, he shook his head – he was becoming too paranoid thanks to recent events. It was late in the night, after all, and Dumbledore had always believed himself infallible.
With a motion from his hand, Bella and Rookwood came back to their original positions, while Lucius readied himself in excitement. This was his moment, when he established himself as the best the Death Eaters had to offer...
As one united phalanx with Voldemort at the head, the Death Eaters strode forward, and into the house. The current inhabitants would no doubt raise the alarm somehow, and bring in reinforcements – they'd have a fight on their hands tonight.
One final step, and he was inside the house. One moment of silence, and then Voldemort's lips curved in relief and victory.
And then the world went to hell, as the localised magical explosion shook the entire building – even though the Muggle buildings around them remained unharmed. The world around him shattered, and all he knew was pain, pain upon pain –
Pain. Harry screamed as his entire being was set afire, every cell and every nerve ending of his body screaming in agony. His magic permeated him, rushed through him, was him.
He'd chosen the worst time possible to complete Calli's assignment – or perhaps it was the best.
The inhabitants of the entire boy's dormitory awakened as Harry's screams cut through the air. Neville rushed out of bed and made to calm Harry, but pulled back as his hands were burnt. The magic on the surface was rebelling, unwilling to be chained; but being bound at the same time.
Inside Harry, another power was awakening – the power that the Dark Lord knew not – the Power that only one other person in history had wielded, having undergone the same training.
"Get McGonagall!" yelled Ron, a strange gleam in his eye, as he watched his old best friend thrash around in the air, held aloft by his own magic. Seamus took off at a dead run, nearly tumbling down the stairs, while Ron rapidly cast off a plethora of silencing charms, already adding to the set he'd created the second he'd been woken by Harry's screams. "And be fast!"
Harry was lifted bodily into the air by his own magic – strangely though, there was no residue coming off him, as the magic bound itself completely to his being.
Dean, Neville and Ron watched in abject horror as a strange sort of light bathed Harry's body in an ethereal glow. He twisted and turned, clutching at himself with shaking hands until...
His entire body was jerked back, and his scar was set aflame. Golden flames danced along the jagged length, before there was a high-pitched scream, and black smoke sputtered out from the lightning bolt shaped cut.
The last vestiges of the link between Harry and Voldemort put up a strong fight, clutching desperately to the body which had hosted it for so many years, but to no avail. It was thrown bodily out of Harry's being, just as Professor McGonagall, followed by a frantic Dumbledore ran up the stairs towards the room.
The dark mist, though severely depleted, coalesced into a recognizable form –
McGonagall gasped as she found the Dark Mark hovering in the dormitory, while Dumbledore's face cycled through different emotions as he mentally pieced together what had happened.
Shock, disbelief, denial, and then finally joy washed over his features before he schooled them back into shape.
With a wave of his wand, and a complex incantation, he created a miniature vortex in the room, as the Mark was hit with an Exorcism Charm. A whirlpool of black smoke thrashed about for a few moments, before it imploded into nothingness.
Harry thrashed around another second or two before he collapsed completely on the bed – passed out in a rather anticlimactic manner. Despite it, Dumbledore could feel the magic – he paused, the magic wasn't around Harry or within Harry –it was Harry.
"Will someone please tell me what happened here?" asked McGonagall, her voice mildly panicked. "Mr. Finnigan here woke me up in the middle of the night, saying Mr. Potter was in danger, and I arrive here to find him in the middle of some sort of fit! Explain at once!" she commanded.
All three boys except Ron burst into a bevy of explanations, their voices together serving no purpose other than to confuse the Transfiguration professor more.
"Silence!" she barked, and all three boys immediately shut up. Dumbledore's eyebrows had risen further, he'd moved to silence the area, only to find quite powerful charms already in existence. That would explain why no other student had come down to investigate...
"Mr. Weasley," he chose to speak just then, making nearly everybody in the room jump, "perhaps you would be so kind as to explain the events of tonight?"
Ron told them everything he'd witnessed, as concisely as he could.
"I presume it was your Silencing Charms that I encountered around the room?" asked the Headmaster, his eyes twinkling when Ron nodded.
"In that case, I believe points are in order," he said, "I believe...25 each to Mr. Weasley and Mr. Finnigan for quick thinking and prompt action would not be amiss, would it?"
The boys grinned in delight, though their smiles were tinged with worry for their roommate. McGonagall merely nodded, her lips pursed, as she said, "That's all well and good, Albus, but we need to get Mr. Potter to the Hospital Wing at once!"
"I think Mr. Potter is perfectly healthy, Minerva," said Dumbledore lightly. "Perhaps a visit to my office would be in order."
McGonagall's lips thinned further, "My office is nearer, Albus," she offered, "and I daresay I would like to keep an eye on my student while you investigate into this matter."
Her face was impassive even as the Headmaster threw her a shrewd look. "Very well," he agreed finally, before drawing his wand and conjuring a stretcher, which he levitated the prone form of the Boy-Who-Lived onto.
The other boys watched Harry being floated down the stairs before the Headmaster and the Transfiguration teacher, and Ron started taking down the charms he'd placed, his mind a whirlwind of thought.
He was impressed by his own skill and power tonight, he decided, as he took down all of them and laid back on his bed, ignoring the other boys, who were conversing in low voices.
I could give you much more power...came a whisper. All you need to do...is dig a bit deeper.
He was shocked – he distinctly remembered placing the locket in his trunk, but here it was in his pocket again.
It shows that your resolve is weakening, Ronald Weasley...crooned the voice to him. You know you want that power –
Ron paled. He had no illusions about whose voice it was – who this Tom Riddle was who would teach and advise him whenever he put on the locket and gave in to its magic...
Yesss... hissed Riddle. Put it on, and this time, let go completely...you felt that power, but let me show you what it is like to wield it!
He had resisted both the attempts of Riddle and the lure of Dark Magic, to learn the Darker of the Arts from a young Voldemort, but he knew the locket was slowly gaining power, and wearing away at his psyche. He knew Riddle would soon get strong enough to try and possess him like Ginny, but he wanted to learn just a bit more from him...
Yesss! Crowed Riddle. Put on the locket, Ron, and you will wield the same power that the fool Potter wields!
But at what cost? Asked Ron, as he took the locket out of his pocket and placed it inside his trunk, this time taking care to lock it in. He wasn't ready to get rid of it just yet, though...
And then Ron Weasley slumped back on his bed, and lay there, thinking.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Where am I? Thought Harry, as he opened his eyes, as naturally as waking up from a short nap. He felt no exhaustion, no pain – he just was. Everything around him was dark – he couldn't even see the surface he was sitting in.
Instead of fear or paranoia, though, all he felt was a sense of detached calm. Nothing could harm him here –
Indeed, said a voice from behind him, sounding a bit amused. It was female, and her voice was soft and lilting, like a whisper in the wind.
Now that he concentrated, he could make out the sound of the rushing wind around him, moving around him nearly silently.
Who are you? He asked, not feeling threatened at all.
'Who are we?', you mean, said another voice, this once decidedly male, but gentle yet firm.
He just nodded, feeling no need to speak or even think aloud.
We have many names, said the female voice.
The Dark - she said; her voice curiously seductive.
The Light – said the male voice proudly.
Hidden –
Manifest –
The swirling around him seemed to increase in force –
Cold –
Hot –
Air –
Fire-
Yin – said the female, her voice now resounding, the word sending a pang through Harry's being.
And Yang – said the male, his voice just as stirring.
Always moving, keeping the balance – shifting, turning –
Seperate, yet part of a complete whole...
You.They ended together, and Harry shivered, understanding rising within him. He had enough knowledge of Shaolin Movies and popular culture to have an inkling of what was going on –
You're my soul? He asked, his voice filling with wonder.
The soul, said Yin, a trace of humour in her voice. Yes, you can call us that, though you would do us a disservice.
What are you, then? He asked, a trace of apprehensiveness in his voice.
She laughed melodiously, the sound sending shivers through him. That is for us to know, she said.
And you to find out – said Yang.
Can I see you? He asked tentatively, which gave rise to another round of laughter from both of them. He felt no shame, though, instead, he felt lifted, invigorated.
You have already, don't you think? Yin asked with a teasing lilt.
He took a second to understand – the last stage of his journey to power, as Calli had fondly named it.
That was you? He asked in wonder.
Indeed, said Yang.
A constant, never ending cycle, though you saw only one of our many forms...
Harry paused for a second, but then he asked, What does this mean for me? He asked. Does this mean I am now more powerful?
They laughed again, and he curiously felt like a child. No, you are not, said Yin.
You may just access the magic in you, and around you, better.
Wait, the magic around me?
We are everywhere, Harry. In you, outside you, with you, without you...
You're sentient...said Harry in awe.
Another round of laughter. Indeed we are. All Magic is.
He was intrigued, and opened his mouth to question them further, when Yang interrupted –
Your time here grows ever shorter, he said gravely.
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Yin beat him to it. You should be grateful that you were in our presence so long, little one, and he could hear the power in her voice, but despair not, we shall meet again, I think.
We will? Asked Harry, again feeling sorrowful like a child.
Of course we will, said Yang amusedly, we are part of you, and we will always be with you in your time of need.
One last question, then, said Harry, and already the space around him was getting lighter – he could see a gateway of light appearing –
I think I know your question already, said Yin. No, Harry, neither my counterpart, nor I am evil. We may be dark, or we may be light, but it is the part you choose to act upon, that makes you what you truly are.
Does that mean I will never be able to access your power? Asked Harry, mentally directing his question to Yin.
She laughed, low and appealing. Why should I be the evil one, just because I represent the Dark, Harry? She asked, her voice throaty, almost like she was whispering in his ear.
One moment I am the Dark, she said, her voice sending shivers down his spine.
And the next I am Light, said Yang's voice.
Wait, you're one being? Asked Harry, it was almost too much to wrap his head around.
Scratch that, it actually was too much for him to wrap his head around.
You may have hope yet, said Yin, amusement colouring her voice. No, you may never call upon both of us together, she explained, not in the literal sense, anyway. We are ever changing-
And where I am one moment – said Yin,
I am the next – said Yang.
He shook his head, confused. Of course, you may attempt to change the course of the cycle, or speed it up, to disturb the balance, even though it is inadvisable –
How? Asked Harry, panicking slightly, as their voice grew fainter.
Yin's laughter stayed with him, haunting his years, as it faded altogether into the approaching, all-encompassing light. Why, that would be telling, young Harry!
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Dumbledore levitated Harry quickly out of the Tower, pausing as the Portrait of the Fat Lady closed behind him.
"What is going on, Albus?" asked McGonagall almost immediately, and she was unprepared for the change that came over the Headmaster. He smiled widely, chuckling deeply, and it was like years had been taken off him – she almost felt giddy at the aura he was projecting.
"It seems young Harry's life has taken a turn for the better, Minerva!" said Albus, his eyes twinkling. "And on the other hand, I believe Voldemort has suffered a serious injury –"
"The Dark Lord?!" gasped Minerva, "Albus, explain at once -!"
But the Headmaster was already walking away with a noticeable spring in his step, muttering under his breath, while smiling widely. Minerva hastened to follow, careful not to bump into her student – but the Headmaster was proving almost impossible to keep up at his pace.
She gave a start as there was a flash of fire, and Fawkes appeared next to Dumbledore, flying alongside him. The phoenix trilled, and Dumbledore nodded.
Fawkes gave another trill, this one lighter, and Dumbledore paused. Fawkes flew over to Harry's prone form, and blinked his eyes. A single tear fell onto Harry's scar, and there was an angry hissing noise.
Minerva's protective instincts were roused – she ran forward, her wand drawn.
Her eyes widened though, when she saw what was happening. Harry's scar, which had been raw and inflamed, was slowly losing its colour, and turning paler. She watched in fascination as some tissue knit together, and suddenly, all activity stopped.
Where the angry, almost pulsating scar had been before, was a thin, lightning bolt shaped light mark – a pale shadow of what his scar had been before.
She looked up, but her question died in her throat. Albus' eyes were wet, as he gazed upon Harry.
"So much suffering avoided," he mumbled to himself, his eyes bright – a fact that was reflected in his familiar, strangely.
"Now, Fawkes," he said, straightening up, "I believe you should give Poppy and Severus some notice," he said, before his eyes twinkled mischievously, "and perhaps sing a lullaby or two?"
Minerva couldn't help it. As the phoenix disappeared again, and they began moving forward again, she asked incredulously, "Sing a lullaby?"
"One of the properties of phoenix song," said Albus, his voice low, "is the ability to put those who are already asleep into an even deeper sleep – just in case some questionable people should chance upon this unlikely entourage..."
She nodded, her lips thin. Albus' eyes twinkled, as she asked, "Questionable people of the amphibian sort?" her voice completely flat.
"Indeed, Minerva, indeed," nodded the Headmaster, and her lips twitched upward a bit, despite herself.
"He will be alright, of course, Albus?" she asked anxiously the very next second, as she turned her gaze on the fifth-year who was still unconscious.
"Only one way to find out, Minerva," the Headmaster said. They had arrived at her office. "I am afraid I must ask you to go to my office for a bit," she stiffened.
"I give you my word, Minerva," said Dumbledore, "that I will not perform any magic upon Harry while you are away –"
She opened her mouth. "My word as a wizard, Minerva," he said gravely, and she could feel the magic in the room shift. She gulped, and nodded.
"In the table next to the portrait of Dilys Derwent, you will find a solitary, rather curious instrument of mine," he ordered, "I believe you will recognize it by its puffing of rather intriguing patterns of smoke, and I must ask you to bring it to me at once."
She nodded, and left, with one last glance at Harry. Albus lowered Harry onto the couch in the room, and decided to look out of the window towards the Quidditch pitch until Minerva returned, focusing on unsticking a Sherbet Lemon.
His familiar appeared next to him with another flash, just as he had succeeded and popped the sweet into his mouth.
The phoenix trilled as it beheld Harry again, and Albus could make out the happiness in his voice.
"Indeed, Fawkes," he said, "I am certain that I will no longer have to sacrifice Harry to win the war against the Dark Lord – he is free to live his own life –"
Unfortunately for him, his student had chosen just a few seconds to wake up while his back was turned.
Albus stiffened immediately, as his familiar fell strangely silent. He had a moment's notice as an enormous magical aura flared behind him – and then he dove to the left as a spell rocketed past him, right where his head had been moments ago.
The force of the Reductor was such that it took an entire section of the wall off – where the window once stood, there was now a gaping hole.
He barely managed to raise his wand and a subsequent shield before Harry hurled another spell at him. The curse splattered against his shield and he was pushed back with the force of it – his eyebrows rose as he quickly computed the situation.
He thought he'd seen the complete extent of Harry's powers during the Summer, especially when the youngster was angry. He hadn't factored in the increase in Harry's powers due to the removal of Voldemort's influence – added to the fact that he was –
He chanced a glance at his student, and gulped. Harry had bypassed livid, and now had a cool, blank expression on his face, one that promised extreme pain to the Headmaster. His eyes, though, were burning green – the Headmaster shivered involuntarily, he'd chosen the worst possible time to make a no-harm oath.
"Dumbledore," said Harry, his voice ice cold. "Would you care to repeat, or even better, explain what you just said?"
Dumbledore muttered something, and then was forced to throw up another shield, physical this time, as Harry raised his wand, and jabbed it silently.
The fleet of daggers that sped out of Harry's wand clattered harmlessly against the marble block, but his next Reducto blasted it to dust without another word on his part.
Dumbledore's eyes widened. Harry's anger was powering him to unimaginable extents –
"Harry, please calm down –" the only answer he got was a 'Flamma Flagello!', spoken aloud, and a Flame Whip curse that narrowly avoided singeing his beard.
Albus took in the situation with admirable speed – he was up against the arguably most powerful, and angry young wizard of his generation, and without the ability to subdue him magically. So he did the only thing that made sense –
Jumping out from behind cover of his desk, he grabbed onto Fawkes tail –
A second passed – and nothing happened.
Fawkes gave him a smug look. You had this coming, the phoenix was clearly saying to him.
He swore, causing his familiar to shake its head amusedly, before vanishing in a ball of flame. To get help – he hoped.
He was left with only one course of action – twisting his Headmaster ring, he made a temporary hole in the wards.
Surprisingly, Harry could feel the magic around him without any problems now – though he could see that the almost cloying aura around Hogwarts would be giving him some spectacular headaches, but he was still aware of the approaching person outside the door, and the temporary anomaly that Dumbledore had created with his wring.
Minerva stepped into the room, the instrument hovering before her, only to find Harry snarling, "Oh no you don't!" and leap at Dumbledore, before both of them vanished in a flash.
The instrument let out a loud puff of smoke and bobbed dangerously, before she managed to recover enough to stabilise it and set it upon her desk. Her eyebrows shot into her hair as she noticed the rather conspicuous hole in her wall, and she swore for a short second before running out of her office, wand at the ready, her face set.
Dumbledore and Harry, on the other hand, were deposited rather unceremoniously on the Second Floor corridor. Harry was the first to regain his balance, and his wand was ready and pointed at the Headmaster within seconds –
"Just give me a reason," he said, carefully eyeing the Headmasters wand as he stood up, which was lying away from him in one corner of the corridor, away from the kneeling old man. "Explain!"
"Headmaster – Potter?!" Snape, who had been hoping to take a shortcut through the portrait at the end, stopped short. For a second, his mouth opened and closed disbelievingly, before he sneered and regained his senses, his wand out in a flash.
"You're done for now, Potter," he said with a smirk, "cornering and clearly attacking the Headmaster – I told him that you were an ungrateful bra-"
He stopped short, and dived as a Stunner came at him, so powerful that the very air in its path rippled. It splashed against the wall and left a large, luminous red stain that faded out very slowly.
Snape's eyes widened, a curse was on his lips, just as, "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"
Albus sighed as he felt the minor bond on him release as McGonagall arrived at the scene. In a flash, her wand was out. She hestitated for a second, before deciding to back her student, and pointed it at Snape.
Harry's eyes widened in surprise, Snape mirrored his actions.
"I would like to know that as well, Professor," said Harry, barely controlling his anger. "Especially why the Headmaster here suddenly decided that he would no longer have to sacrifice me to vanquish Voldemort!"
Minerva was struck dumb for a moment, before she turned to Dumbledore, her voice going sub-zero. "What is my student talking about, Albus?"
Dumbledore gulped, even with his wand held loosely in his hand, and free of his no-harm oath, he felt a chill go down his spine. Minerva was the most ruthless of opponents even on her worst days...
He slowly rose to his feet, and Harry started, brandishing his wand at the Headmaster. Snape snarled, and strode forward with his wand raised towards the young Gryffindor, he was stopped short, however, by Minerva's wand pointing at him.
"Not another step, Death Eater," she said, her voice controlled, and he flinched as if struck. "You will first explain why you did not seem surprised that the Headmaster could have a conspiracy to kill my favour- my student!"
Harry's affection and respect for McGonagall skyrocketed. He could see why the remaining Marauders had spoken reverently of her exploits during the last war – her ability to jump to relevant conclusions was phenomenal.
"Surely you don't mean that, Minerva?" asked Dumbledore, his voice now sorrowful and holding none of the joy it previously had.
"I mean every word, Albus," said the Transfiguration professor, "this has been going on too long, and this seems too suspicious. Merlin knows you and Severus spend too much time holed together, plotting Morgana-knows-what!"
The Headmaster's bushy eyebrows shot skywards, "You would take Mr. Potters accusations seriously even without a chance to verify it first?"
She faltered for a moment, before straightening, and proudly saying, "Yes, I would. Too many times I've ignored his words, and somebody has suffered for it – not least him!"
Harry's feelings were reinforced, and he gave a small smile towards her, his wand still steady, though.
Her wand twitched, and at the same time there was a flash – Albus started and raised his wand at her, thinking she had done something.
Fawkes arrived to a most bizarre scene. The four wizards were almost forming a perfect square –
Harry had his wand pointed at Albus, Albus was uncertainly holding his in Minerva's direction. Minerva was still covering Snape with her wand, and the Potions professor had kept his steady in his most hated student's direction, though he was still looking warily at his colleague's wand.
Snape tested waters by moving a step forward, but stopped short sharply. In a second, Harry's wand was pointed in his direction, while Minerva had also moved forward. The Potions Master shifted his hand to point at Minerva instead, Dumbledore raised his wand warningly in Harry's direction. Seeing no choice, Minerva pointed her wand at Dumbledore.
The entire square had reversed directions within seconds. The four magicians were now holding the person to their right at wandpoint.
Fawkes couldn't help it; he let out an amused musical melody.
Harry started despite the situation. "Did he just sing the starting to the Good, the Bad and the Ugly theme?" he couldn't help asking.
Albus chuckled as well, momentarily forgetting the gravity of the situation. "Apt, if I may say so –"
That did it for Harry. His temper was already on edge, and the Headmaster's nonchalant attitude even after Harry had just heard him admit to a conspiracy to kill Harry, sent him over the edge.
Normally, he would wait a second to pull his magic to the surface before performing a spell, but his summer training had paid off. Now that the first stage of his magical training was done, his magic was permeating every cell of his body, and ready to go – and it was further fuelled by the very power of his soul.
A complete soul, unharmed and whole, something the Dark Lord would never have – a power he could never wield.
Dumbledore turned on the charms on his glasses for a split second as he felt Harry's aura flare, and almost gasped. Harry's aura was like nothing he had seen before – while everybody's aura was represented by a steady colourful ball, Harry's was a swirling mass of energy with no definite shape, cycling all over his body – it was like he was made of magic!
Albus felt giddy as a schoolboy, the situation almost forgotten – this was magic unheard of!
He was quickly pulled out of his thoughts, though, when Harry sent a silent Cutter at him with a sweep of his wand.
And the duel was on.
Flashes and bangs lit up the corridor and plunged it into chaos as the four-way duel commenced. Harry dodged a Stunner from Snape, spun gracefully about and together with McGonagall, sent a double Stunner back at the greasy haired Potions teacher. Dumbledore flicked his wand, and a shield was raised in front of Snape, and the two spells smashed harmlessly against it, though Harry's sent a deep gong through the Castle.
Flitwick and Sprout, who were patrolling that night, immediately hastened to the source of the noise.
Umbridge merely rolled over in her sleep, and continued snoring.
Meanwhile, Snape was forced to raise another shield of his own as McGonagall sent a fleet of knives at him. Harry engaged the Headmaster, conjuring half a dozen cobras and commanding them with a hiss.
As one, the Spitting Cobras attacked, and Dumbledore's eyes widened as he leapt out of the way with a speed that belied his age, as the venom barely missed him and splattered against the wall. The venerable Headmaster shivered as the venom made a hole in the wall with a spitting sound. With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore turned the snakes to ash, before reforming them to form ropes which he banished at Harry. McGonagall swept around and forced a suit of armour into the way, at the same time, Harry spun around, back to back with her and batted aside a Petrificus from Snape, before sending a hex that he'd fantasized about using on the Potions Professor ever since he'd read up about it.
Snape dodged out of the way, but he was too slow for Harry's magic induced speed – the spell hit his arm. Snape's left limb was immediately replaced by a full bat wing, and Harry couldn't help but let out a feral laugh.
He spun around again, and McGonagall followed suit. He quickly blasted apart the suit of armour which Dumbledore had charmed to subdue McGonagall, while the Transfiguration professor laughed outright at the sight of the Potions professor, before sending the same spell again at him again, which he barely dodged. Snape retaliated with a banisher, enraged, an ugly expression on his face.
In fact, he was the only one snarling, all other combatants had exhilarated smiles on their faces.
Perhaps it was the relief of fighting against people who weren't servants of a maniac, or the sheer adrenaline, but Harry gave a fearsome laugh as he transformed a broken chunk of stone into a flock of birds which he banished at the Headmaster, whose eyes twinkled as he blasted them to pieces before transforming them into a solitary hawk that dove at Harry. Minerva's hair had fallen out of its bun, and she grinned dangerously as she sent out a controlled blast of flame that charred both the hawk as well as the python that Snape had conjured, before she spun around and traded opponents with Harry –
"WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN IS GOING ON?!"
Every wand froze in action as two female voices cried out as one. Professors Sprout and Flitwick had arrived at the scene, as had Madam Pomfrey.
Sprout looked like she was suffering from a coronary, Flitwick's eyes were popping open in disbelief, and Pomfrey...looked livid.
As one, all four combatants paled at her look, and tried to hide their wands quickly behind their cloaks or nightgowns.
Pomfrey spoke one word, her glinting – the same glint she wore whenever she was dealing with a particularly difficult patient whom she'd just threatened to tie to the bed, "Explain."
As one McGonagall and Harry, and Snape and Dumbledore raised their hands and pointed at the other pair. "They started it!" they complained childishly.
Fifteen minutes later, all four of them were rubbing their smarting behinds – courtesy Pomfrey's merciless Stinging Hex – and sitting gingerly on the beds of the Hospital Wing.
"I cannot believe this!" the Matron said, as she angrily strode about between them, checking for spell damage, "a student and three Professors out of bed at night, and DUELLING IN THE CORRIDORS!"
"You can't chastise me," said Dumbledore, a bit petulantly, "I'm the –"
"Most manipulative, conspiring old coot in the universe who plots the demise of his own students –"
Flitwick and Sprout were watching avidly, their eyes round, not quite understanding, but definitely enjoying the situation.
"Potter! How dare you talk to the Headmaster that way, you ungrateful, arrogant Hellspaw-"
"NOT ANOTHER WORD!" shrieked McGonagall, her face red, "I've stood by too many years, you greasy git, and watched passively under the Headmaster's orders, while you bully other students!"
"How dare you –" began Snape, affronted, while Harry cheered, "Go Minnie!"
"SILENCE!" screamed Poppy, and everybody fell silent at once, their mouths snapping shut.
"I wasn't shouting..." offered Dumbledore meekly.
"Shut up, Albus, you great suck-up!" said Minerva, and Harry's face split into a wide grin. "You have a lot of explaining to do!"
All the humour was sucked out of the room, and Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, I believe I do," said the Headmaster. "Your anger is justified –"
He got up, and all others stood up and followed as he set off in the direction of McGonagall's office, to explain to Harry –
"Just where do you think you are going?"
All four of them stiffened and sheepishly turned to find a very bemused Madam Pomfrey, her eyes narrowed and her hands on her hips.
They gulped as one.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
"Never again!" said Harry, as he stumbled out of the Hospital Wing, gagging. Pomfrey had force fed them the most foul tasting potions imaginable, on purpose, they were sure.
"Never again," said Minerva, leaning on her favourite student, and he firmly gripped her arm, and she gave him a rare smile. She was glad she had somewhat repaired the situation between them, whatever the cost was.
"Headmaster!" said Snape, who had finally been able to look past the trauma of the entire incident, "Potter! This is entirely his fault! I demand his expulsion at once!"
"Enough!" said McGonagall, and Snape flinched. "That is it! Albus, you must make a choice, now! Severus can stay and keep on bullying and terrorizing students, but I will not tolerate his presence a second longer! Either he stays in the Castle, or I do!"
There was stunned silence after this proclamation. Everyone was stunned, even Snape.
"Professor..." began Harry weakly, quite touched, but he stopped short, as she subtly squeezed his hand.
Sprout seemed to be wrestling with a decision, before she said, "Me too, Albus. If Minerva leaves, so do I!"
Flitwick chose to stay out of it, true to his semi-Goblin heritage, and both witches threw him a dirty look. Harry, though, was amazed by this Slytherin side of the Gryffindor Head of House, as he took in the gleam in both her and her female colleagues eyes. He could swear that the Hufflepuff Head winked at him before she turned away, facing the Headmaster grimly.
"Perhaps we should discuss this in the morning," said Dumbledore wearily, now looking every bit his age. "When the daylight will help us think clearer. Besides, I believe a complete meeting of teachers is necessary to vote on this matter. Minerva, I implore you to think clearly. Hogwarts needs you. Harry needs you right now –"
Harry opened his mouth hotly, outraged at this open blackmail. Minerva's nostrils flared as well.
"Very well, Albus," she said stiffly. "We will now proceed to my Office, where you can investigate Mr. Potter's seizure under my supervision!"
The other teachers started, surprised at this news. Snape was completely pale, given the turn of events.
"However," she continued, drawing herself up to full height, "You can expect me gone by tomorrow night at the latest," she said, her voice firm. She had just called Dumbledore's bluff and raised it.
"Minerva, I beg of you –" but the Transfiguration Professor was already walking down the Hall, dragging Harry with her.
Dumbledore sighed and turned to the other teachers, "You are dismissed," he said tiredly. "Please, Pomona," he said, as Sprout opened her mouth to speak. "No more tonight," he pleaded.
Professor Sprout's eyes softened, and she nodded, before turning away and walking off, followed by Flitwick.
"Headmaster –" began Snape, but Dumbledore shook his head.
"You have brought this upon yourself, Severus," said Dumbledore sadly.
"You cannot be serious!" said Snape, but Dumbledore replied sorrowfully -
"My hands are tied when it comes to this, Severus...the Board values Minerva more over you. Now, I know I had called you, but it seems we will have to do without your presence, my boy."
Snape huffed and strode off angrily, cloak billowing behind him, leaving a tired Headmaster behind, who turned and shuffled in the direction of Minerva's office, his shoulders hunched.
The cracks were beginning to show already in the fragile alliance of the Light...
"Professor!" said Harry urgently, "you can't seriously leave Hogwarts!" as soon as they were out of earshot of the others.
McGonagall grinned tightly. "Oh, I believe that this will end up in nothing as always, Harry," she said. "Severus will be teaching come Monday, and so will I –"
"But if nothing comes of it –"
"The Headmaster will still consider himself warned, Mr. Potter," said the Professor, back to her pierce self, even though her lips were twitching upwards. "Let us not be tardy now," she said, and strode forward briskly, leaving him to follow at a slightly more sedate pace, as his eyes trailed behind her admiringly.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Dumbledore arrived ten minutes later, to find his Deputy and her student sitting together in a comfortable silence. He raised his wand, only to find that the hole in the wall had been repaired.
Taking a deep breath, he put on his best Poker face, and turned to Harry.
"Mr. Potter, if you will kindly recount the events of tonight?" Harry opened his mouth in anger, but Dumbledore raised his palms in surrender.
"Patience, Mr. Potter, I assure you I will try and explain myself once you are done!"
Harry took a deep breath as well, his eyes sparkling in anger, before he launched into a description of events.
Dumbledore's eyes were a bit brighter when he had finished, while Minerva let out a gasp.
"The Dark Lord was injured?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.
"Critically, by the looks of it," said Harry.
"And what happened next?" prodded Albus, his eyes alight.
"I lost consciousness," said Harry coolly, "so I was hoping you could shed some light on that –"
Dumbledore sighed, but beckoned Harry forward. "If you would kindly place a finger here," he said, demonstrating the instrument McGonagall had brought in.
He complied, and the device shot out a solitary puff of swirling smoke. Albus looked happier, and then asked, "In essence divided?"
Nothing happened, and when nothing continued to happen, Albus smiled slightly. "You will remember, Harry, our conversation from a few years ago, when I said that Voldemort had left a part of himself behind in you, giving you certain...abilities?"
Harry nodded, his eyes narrowed. "Well," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, "it seems that it is no longer a part of you. By my calculations, your scar will never hurt you again, and you won't be suffering from any nightmares or visions, either..."
Harry's expression cleared up, and he showed blank shock for a moment, something that was mirrored on Professor McGonagall's face.
"G-gone?" he asked, stunned. "How?"
"I must confess myself ignorant about that," said Dumbledore lightly, "and I am yet to form any theories, as well. We can only be thankful for this fortunate turn of events –"
Harry resisted the urge to swear – he could bet his Gringotts vault that Dumbledore had theories, but he preferred to keep his cards close to his chest.
"What does this mean for Mr. Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall tentatively.
"I believe Mr. Potter will experience an increase to his already considerable powers," said Dumbledore, "and he will also find his own mind a more...liberating area..."
"But he still spoke Parseltongue tonight!" protested McGonagall, "which should be against your theories, if the Dark Lord indeed gave him those abilities!"
"I defeated the King of Serpents, Professor," said Harry quietly. "Surely that has some side benefits, especially because I was injected with some of its venom, and managed to live?"
Silence followed his words, but Harry was thinking furiously. Could this have something to do with the Chamber incident? He had already theorized that the piece of Voldemort within him had been destroyed by the Basilisk's glance, and he had already experienced the subsequent mental and magical liberation – but could some vestiges of Dark Magic have been left behind? Could it be that even that had been wiped out thanks to his training?
Dumbledore no doubt thought that Voldemort's injury had something to do with this incident, but Harry was sure it was the effect of his training. Perhaps his magic had sensed the dark entity around his scar, and driven it away...
He shook himself out of his thoughts. "That still doesn't explain, Professor," he asked Dumbledore, "why you were planning to sacrifice me to kill Voldemort..."
Dumbledore paled. "Can you ever forgive me, Harry?" he asked, and Harry was a bit stymied to see his eyes wet.
Crocodile tears, he told himself, wiping away whatever sympathy he felt for the old man before him.
McGonagall exploded next to him. "You thought that killing him would kill the Dark Lord thanks to this...connection?!" she screamed.
At a loss for words, Dumbledore could simply nod.
It was McGonagall who lost it this time.
"You arrogant," she brandished her wand, and Dumbledore barely dodged her Blasting Hex, "manipulative," Dumbledore caught her next spell on his shield. Harry had drawn his wand as well, trying to defuse the situation, even though he would like nothing better to jump back into a duel with the old bastard.
"OLD MAN!" finished McGonagall with a scream, and this time, she shot a jet of fire at Dumbledore, who vanished it to nothingness with a complex wave of his wand and a whirling windstorm.
"Minerva," said the old man sadly, "don't make me attack you –"
But McGonagall was beyond all reason. "The Headmaster plotting to kill his own student!" she screamed, throwing spell after spell at Dumbledore. Harry merely stood back, mentally cheering for her. "The Boy-Who-Lived, LILY AND JAMES' SON!" With an inhuman shriek of rage, she conjured an enormous lion, which roared and leapt at Dumbledore.
Albus was clearly shocked, he transfigured it into a snake which he sent back to her out of pure reflex.
"No!" hissed Harry, and he brandished his own wand, banishing the snake back to Dumbledore, "Attack!"
And this time, the snake managed to sink its fang into the Headmaster's arm, who was taken by surprise. Almost immediately, his arm began turning blue-black in colour.
Dumbledore panicked, and began rapidly muttering and casting spells. McGonagall had calmed down somewhat, even though she still looked like she could breathe fire.
"To the Hospital Wing," she said through gritted teeth, "we will be having words, Albus!" she finished angrily. "I would not be surprised if you were no longer Headmaster after our conversation!"
Dumbledore opened his mouth, but shut it again, wisely. He quietly began walking towards the infirmary, cradling his useless left limb. Harry paused for a second to vanish the snake – a Viper, interestingly – while McGonagall raised an eyebrow subtly at his silent skill.
Needless to say, Madam Pomfrey was not pleased to see them in the Hospital Wing again.
"You will be spending the night here, Headmaster," she said angrily. "And Mr. Potter, if you are not back in your tower within fifteen minutes, you will be joining him as well! Never in my life have I seen more disgraceful behaviour!"
Harry nodded stiffly, even though he was still trying to make sense of the jumble of emotions within him.
He had been brought up to die – like a pig for slaughter. All these years, he had been running on borrowed time, and all these years, there would have been no way out for him.
As he looked upon Dumbledore, he realised that the old man before him had been making an elaborate plan to kill him for the past fourteen years, ever since the first fall of Voldemort in Halloween 1981.
Whatever minor shred of respect he had left for the man vanished on the spot, and his magic flared in anger, earning him a warning glance from McGonagall.
"I think it would be best you leave, Mr. Potter," she said, her own cheeks a blotchy red in anger. "Fear not, because the Headmaster and I will be having intimate conversation on this matter, and no doubt certain other Godfathers I know will be interested to hear of this."
Dumbledore paled even more on the bed next to her, but wisely kept shut. Harry gave another nod, before walking out of the Hospital Wing. He set his course for the Seventh Floor, but to the Room of Requirement, instead of the Gryffindor Tower. He needed something to take his mind off things, and there was no other place which offered such an opportunity in the Castle.
He'd barely made it down two floors, when he was ambushed again. "POTTER!" he heard the roar behind him. Bearing down upon him, a completely deranged look in his eye, was Draco Malfoy.
Harry noted the two-way mirror in the Slytherin students hand, and understood at once. It seems Draco had gotten the news about Voldemort's unsuccessful raid already.
"MY FATHER IS IN THE CRITICAL WARD AT ST. MUNGO'S, YOU BASTARD!" Harry whistled, Lucius must have taken a bad hit. He dodged out of the way of an ugly yellow curse that Draco sent his way, which hummed with power. Despite already participating in two duels, Harry was miraculously still raring to go, though.
"IT'S YOUR FAULT, POTTER, I KNOW IT!"the blond screamed, his face twisted in anger. "HOW DARE YOU, YOU FILTHY HALF-BLOOD?!"
Another Dark-looking spell crashed harmlessly against his shield, and he took the opportunity to send ropes at Malfoy.
With a blast of fire, his conjurations were turned to ash. Harry blinked, and then grinned – Malfoy was pissed, and this looked to be a
His grin was wiped out, though, when Malfoy raised his wand, and screamed, "CRUCIO!"
He dodged out of the way of the spell, and snarled. If Malfoy wanted to play hardball, he was up for it.
With a flick of his wand, he conjured another set of ropes, banished them at Malfoy, and cast a Petrificus Totalus, and a Silencio, chaining them into one fluid wand movement dexterously, as he whirled and twisted about.
Malfoy barely managed to avoid the rope, but he was hit by the curving Body Bind, and the Silencing spell, and he fell to the floor with a thud.
Malfoy watched helplessly, with hateful eyes, as Harry advanced, his eyes glowing eerily.
His expression changed to terror, as Harry bent down and hissed, "Your father undoubtedly got what was coming to him, Malfoy, licking at the boots of a crazed egomaniac. You'll be going the same way soon, it seems, from your choice of spells..." Malfoy's eyes widened as Harry levelled his wand at his face, the tip glowing. With a mutter, a jet of light rushed towards him.
He squeezed his eyes shut as the spell grazed his cheek and hit the floor next to him. He could feel the cool blood trickling down his face. "And I don't like Death Eaters, Draco," hissed Harry, sending shivers down his spine.
"Anyway," said the dark-haired wizard, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. "The charm wears off in ten minutes, and I hope you won't be following me, Draco. It would be most," Draco squeezed his eyes shut again in horror as another jet of heat grazed his other cheek, and landed next to his ear, "counterproductive."
The Slytherin fifth-year could only watch with hateful eyes as his arch-rival walked off calmly, wand in hand.
Yet, ten minutes later, when he felt the bonds on him loosen, he stood up, cursing. Picking his wand and the two-way mirror up, he hurried back to his common room, vowing to take vengeance on the Boy-Who-Lived for the humiliation and attack upon the Malfoy Line.
At the same time as he made his way up to the fifth-year Slytherin dorm, Harry Potter was standing in his hideout at the Room of Requirement, and staring at the Cabinet that had appeared in the middle of the room.
He swore again as his repairing spell fizzled out for the third time, and his temper rose.
Repairing the goddamned Cabinet would take more than just spellwork – no doubt Borgin had been so willing to sell it to him.
He sat down, and began planning. Both on ways to fix it, as well as alternative gifts for Calli's birthday.
Normally, Succubi never celebrated their Birthdays, thanks to their lifespan, but Harry had built up a lot to it, and Calli was looking forward immensely to her birthday now, as well as the gifts that Harry said would come with it.
And he knew that turning up without a gift on Birthday's would be a one-way ticket to any woman's wrath.
The spot on his head where Calli had hit him with a shoe seemed to suddenly throb with a phantom pain.
He gulped, and massaged the relevant area of his scalp slightly, before diving into his planning again with greater fervour than before.
Author's note: Well, since I received a depressingly low amount of reviews for my last chapter, I took some time off, kicked back, and went over my story again, just in case.
Worked out the plot, hammered out story arcs, and now I'm a bit more confident about the direction where it's going.
No guarantees about the next update, though one vacations begin, they'll be much more regular.
That said, both this chapter and the first has the complete summary for the story. Rather intriguing, if I say so myself!
Till next time,
IamtheMasterofDeath.