Intermission: Broken Fragments.

Harry slowly walked up the spiral staircase to the Headmasters office. His hand traced over the grooves and scratches in the railing. He briefly wondered how many students had climbed these stairs in nervous anticipation, or fearful defiance.

His boots clicked against the cold stone as he came to rest across from the headmaster's door. Images flashed across his mind when Tom Riddle [Harry Potter] anxiously awaited Dumbledore's answer on a teaching position.

He heard the old man's voice echo in his head a few seconds before the familiar "Come in, Harry" floated through the door. He carefully pulled the door open and stepped inside. Dumbledore sat in the center of the room, Merlin standing at his side. His mentor's face was creased with worry and he folded his arms.

Harry regarded them both for a moment before smiling a false smile. "How may I help you professors?"

Dumbledore stared at him for a few moments before motioning towards a seat near his desk. Harry calmly walked behind the seat and gently folded his hands across the top of the chair. Merlin frowned and shifted in his spot.

"As I said, how may I help you professors?"

Merlin glanced at Dumbledore before looking back at Harry. "Rabastan Lestrange."

Harry tilted his head, looking at the pair in confusion. "This is about the Death Eater?"

"It's about how you killed him, Harry." Dumbledore said, leaning forward a little. "You murdered him."

Harry leaned back a little, looking at them both with bewilderment.

"Murder? You're here to reprimand me because I killed an enemy in combat?"

Merlin scowled and took a few steps forward. "You killed him while he was defenseless and destroyed him. You showed Bellatrix more mercy than an unarmed man!"

Harry started to feel his temper flare up, he narrowed his eyes and was about to shout back before a cool calm overtook him. He felt the soft shadowy presence shift inside him before memories overtook him. Harry tilted his head before jerking unnaturally to look at Merlin.

"Was Morgana defenseless?"

Merlin stopped his advance and looked at him in complete shock.

"What?!"

Harry narrowed his eyes, his tone cold. "You ran her through with a sword."

"Thats different, I tried to - "

"It's not different. Rabastan was a threat with or without his wand." Harry said with a steely expression.

Merlin glared at Harry, his demeanor changing slightly. "Morgana was nearly as powerful as me. There was nothing that could hold her. No-one that could reason with her. I tried. For so long I tried. But Rabastan was an ordinary wizard who we could have - "

"Locked up?" Harry said. He felt the cold demeanor slowly wash away and the familiar rage overtook him.

"Locked away so that Voldemort could simply break him out again? What a novel idea, perhaps we should do that with the rest of the Death Eaters. Or we could kill them so they stop murdering innocent students."

"I believe we are getting off course gentlemen" Dumbledore interjected gently.

"The issue is not that you killed Harry, it is that you killed a defenseless man without thought. Did you perhaps consider that we could have used Rabastan for information? Questioned him?"

Harry stared for a moment. "So that's it. You simply wanted him for information."

Dumbledore looked at him sadly. "No, but I fear that pleading to your sense of morality and humanity are at a loss. Instead I plead to your sense of duty."

Harry's eyes narrowed in anger and he swiftly turned from the chair and fled through the door. Merlin sighed and followed him. Harry made it down an unoccupied corridor before Merlin slipped in step next to him.

"Leave me." Harry said, his voice betraying a deep seated anger.

"He's right."

Harry turned and looked at Merlin. "You could have stopped it all. You could have killed Morgana before she killed your friend. You could kill Voldemort now."

Merlin stared back at Harry, and for once Harry could see his age. The way that his eyes moved and seemed to carry the weight of a thousand years.

"I have lived for centuries. I have lived through what you teach. It starts with justification. It starts with a passion but it grows. It burns. It leaves a pile of bodies behind. When your instinct is to destroy your opponent, you lose compromise. Diplomacy. What do you think happens then?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but felt his anger slowly fade away.

"We keep our enemies alive, we talk to them, try to convince them because if we didn't the world would burn and we would be left standing in nothing but ash. Perhaps Rabastan deserved to die. But if you keep going on this path. The path of righteous killings when begged for mercy, you will find your allies gone or dead by your hand. You will stand still in nothing but ash and feel as the wind blows across the bones of this country. The bones that you shattered in your righteous fury. I don't keep men like Rabastan alive for their sake. I do it for ours. "

Merlin looked at Harry over a few times before walking away.

~0o0~

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, looking out at the moon. To any casual observer he seemed to be cool and collected. Internally, he was being torn apart. Part of him felt that Merlin was right, he had acted rashly. Another part of him screamed that the Death Eater deserved to die. It needed to be eliminated to protect others.

Another fragment coolly observed that Dumbledore's mercy had led to Grindelwald's march of destruction against much of Europe. His inaction and second chances killed hundreds of thousands. What right did his Headmaster [Transfiguration Teacher] have to lecture him on the values of humanity?

Harry felt the whisper of new memories press against him. Memories from that corrupt shard of Voldemort. Harry now knew. He understood the Dark Lord's plan to make himself immortal. And he now knew why his scar was so intrinsically linked.

Horcrux. Such an odd, terrifying word. It almost fit perfectly. Almost. But it left one question. Harry's scar had disappeared and the rest of Voldemort's Horcruxes had been pulled back into his soul. So where were his memories coming from? Why did Harry still have his knowledge?

He felt the rumblings of Kilgharrah deep inside of him. The familiar voice started to press into his mind before all of the disconnected fragments pressed the Ancient Dragon back down.

Since Harry had accepted the shards of Voldemort a day ago, they and the Dragon had been battling over his psyche. Kilgharrah had wrestled control long enough to sternly voice his disapproval. The fragments had then unceremoniously shut him out again.

A flicker of pain racked his head and he let out a soft growl. Harry shook his head and got to his feet. He walked over to the window and peered out. Through the fogged glass he watched as students milled, waiting to leave.

After the massive attack on the castle, Dumbledore had overruled the Board of Directors and sent the students home. Normally it would have been impossible for a Headmaster to shut the school down without the Boards approval, but with Malfoy gone several members were willing to negotiate.

Harry had been asked to stay. The Order was starting to use Hogwarts as a second operating base as Voldemort's influence was becoming more evident.

Part of Harry was happy to stay in the middle of the fight. The other side(s) hissed that he was simply a pawn being used. No-one really cared about him. He was only important because Merlin had helped his mother bind him to Voldemort to stop a killing curse.

Harry turned away from the window and held out his hand.

"Scildan!"

A few moments passed and nothing happened. Harry scowled and lowered his hand. He hadn't been able to use ancient magic since he had accepted the shard's help. He even found he couldn't even "catch" spells anymore.

It was as if accepting the scraps of knowledge, in pursuing his own ability to cast magic, he had thrust his ability to call on the world's magic deep inside. Harry shook his head again as he felt the prickle of a headache sear across his head again.

He wasn't sure if it had been worth it. But he knew he couldn't win against Voldemort without knowing him. He couldn't win with a few months of training and a couple of tricks. He needed real power. He needed real knowledge.

Whatever the cost.

A/N

Hey folks, it's been a little while. To be fair, the world did go to hell. I wanted to do a couple of short intermission pieces to help describe and flesh out how the events of the chapter impacted the characters.

The next chapter or two will probably be light in action or plot, just simple interludes before we get back on the rails towards the end of the story.

I realize this story is a bit of a mess. It's the byproduct of being written over the course of five years and varying degrees of interest and experience from myself. I promised to finish the story eventually, and I still will.