"The Mandrakes are nearly ready for re-potting!" Professor Sprout said gleefully to Snape, who shot her a sidelong glance and a curt nod indicating that he heard her. He then fixed his cruel glare on Harry, shooting daggers with his eyes. Harry quickly looked back down into his plate and concentrated, hard, on eating.
"Ireland beat Bulgaria in the first match of the Quidditch World Cup yesterday!" Madam Hooch exclaimed to Professor Flitwick, who, despite his lack of knowledge on the subject of Quidditch, asked Madam Hooch what the score had been and if she could tell him about the good plays. Harry observed that, while his classes were difficult and sometimes tiresome, Flitwick was an excellent conversationalist.
He turned away from this conversation; he was quickly bored of Madam Hooch discussing the ins and outs of the Ireland/Bulgaria Quidditch match, even though he loved playing Quidditch with all his heart. Instead, he focused in on the conversation being held between Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall.
"Honestly, Albus, I mean no disrespect, but I don't believe that it was appropriate for us to call Lily and James' son here to help us. He is only a sixth-year student, thus not making him a fully educated wizard. While he is the son of two of the most wonderful witches and wizards to pass through the gates of Hogwarts, I do not see how he can be a great deal of help to us," McGonagall stated, slightly irritated.
"Minerva," Dumbledore began in his usual calm voice. "Minerva, Harry Potter is one of the strongest natural wizards of our time. He has defeated Lord Voldemort in many of his incarnations at many different points in his short life. Harry is one of the only wizards who can truly mystify Voldemort, and for that we need him, at the very least. As we all well know, Voldemort transferred some of his powers to Harry when he tried to kill him as a child, thus making him even stronger. He is our secret weapon, per se, Minerva."
"I just do not see how this...this...child can be of any use to our crusade except as a decoy!"
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows but said nothing. McGonagall's mouth dropped nearly to the table and she shook her head.
"Surely you can't be serious! He is only a child! To use him as a decoy for Lord Voldemort would be gross negligence on our part!"
"The thought never crossed my mind, Minerva." At this part, Dumbledore lowered his voice so Harry had to strain to hear him. "When Voldemort first attempted to kill Harry, he transferred some of his powers to him. As you know, Voldemort's powers have only been used for evil. If young Harry is left to grow on his own, he could become the next Voldemort, which could devastate the wizarding world, as well you know. He is most likely more powerful than Voldemort, although neither Voldemort nor Harry would willingly admit it. I believe that this could keep Harry fighting for our side. If we lost him to the Dark Side, there would be nothing we could do to save the wizarding world. It would be another dark era. I presume you do not need reminding of the last one?"
McGonagall had become ashen-faced at Dumbledore's reasoning and she nodded to show that she understood and agreed. From there, the conversation turned to the Sorting and which new students would be coming this year. Harry didn't care; he only wanted to think about what Dumbledore had said.
He quickly washed down the last few bites of his Shepard's pie with the rest of his cool pumpkin juice and politely excused himself from the Great Hall to go back to his dormitory.
He walked quickly through the corridor, running into Nearly Headless Nick on the way.
"Harry Potter!" Nick said gleefully. "How were your holidays? They went well, I trust?"
Harry smiled and nodded at Nick. Nick had always been his favorite of the Hogwarts ghosts, and not just because he was the Gryffindor ghost. Nick had saved him from almost certain doom with Filch, and he had gone so far to invite Harry, Hermione and Ron to his 500th Deathday Party, which, in all honesty, they had all found a bit creepy, but went to appease Nick.
"My holidays were great, thank you, Sir Nicholas," he replied. "And how were yours?"
"I still cannot be accepted into the Headless Hunt, no matter how hard I try! It has been a very upsetting summer, what with the uprising of the Dark Side, and the Headless Hunt on the side, and I shall be happier than a clam when it is over and the Dark Lord has been defeated," Nick replied in a somber tone.
Harry nodded his agreement and told Nick that he ought to be going; he wanted to read a little bit and then take a bath before he went to bed. This was only partly true. He waved a hasty goodbye to Nick and continued hurrying to the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Francophone!" he said to her, and she swung open to let him through. He sped up the stairs and began drawing a hot bath. No one used the bathtub in the sixth-year boys' dormitories during the school terms, but when Harry stayed at Hogwarts over holidays, he enjoyed taking warm baths and thinking things over. Tonight was a wonderful night for a hot bath. The water steamed up the mirror in the bathroom, who in turn said, "Dear, if you'd leave me steamed up, please. I'd like to take a short sleep." Harry obliged the mirror.
He undressed and sat down slowly in the hot water. It felt like his skin was scorching, and he jumped out of the bath quickly. He grabbed his wand from his pockets and performed a Cooling charm to make the water a comfortable temperature. He sat down again, this time without burning himself, and closed his eyes.
'If young Harry is left to grow on his own, he could become the next Voldemort, which could devastate the wizarding world, as well you know. He is most likely more powerful than Voldemort, although neither Voldemort nor Harry would willingly admit it. I believe that this could keep Harry fighting for our side. If we lost him to the Dark Side, there would be nothing we could do to save the wizarding world. It would be another dark era.'
Dumbledore's words were ringing in Harry's ears. Could he really become the next Voldemort? Was he really that powerful? He didn't believe it. He wasn't even the best student in his class; that was Hermione, by far. Besides, Voldemort was evil. He had no desire to kill anyone, ever! And while he may have some of Voldemort's powers, like the ability to speak to snakes, he never wanted to use them for malicious purposes.
Harry sighed, disbelieving what Dumbledore had said. He didn't think he was smart enough to become the next Dark Lord, even if he'd wanted to. But maybe intelligence wasn't an issue. As Professor Quirrell had said to him when he was searching for the Sorcerer's Stone, "There is only power, and those too weak to seek it." 'Hmm,' he thought. Power had never been something he'd desired, and neither had the popularity that he'd immediately gained upon arriving at Hogwarts. He sighed again. He was well-known, and if anything went wrong with him, it would be well-known through the entire wizarding world. He didn't want anyone to know about the details of his private life, though he was sure that for the most part, everyone already did.
Groaning, he opened his eyes and leaned back upon the soft back of the claw-footed tub. He just wanted to relax these last two weeks of summer, and what did he get? He had to go to Hogwarts and help in the fight against Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy. He narrowed his eyes and glared at the faucet. He wondered whether Draco would be on his father's side or not. Probably he would be talking things up but not doing anything, as usual. He rolled his eyes and looked at his fingers. They were as shriveled as prunes. He decided it was about time that he finished bathing and go to bed. After all, he'd spent nearly three hours in the tub, he was amazed to realize, and the water hadn't cooled a bit.
He stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist. He wiped off the mirror, who yawned and asked him sleepily, "Did you have a nice bath, dear?" Harry nodded into the mirror and went out into his dormitory to dress. He took his flannel pajamas out of the drawer of his nightstand and pulled them on, suddenly exhausted. He turned the covers down on his bed and climbed in, dragging the warm comforter up to his chest. Pointing his wand at the lamp on the table, he turned it off and closed his eyes.
However hard he tried, Harry could not sleep. He had too much on his mind to be able to sleep. What Dumbledore had said was driving him nearly to the brink of insanity. Could he truly become the next Voldemort? He was almost frightened by that prospect.
But, his mind nagged at him, you were almost sorted into Slytherin. You can't forget that.
Truthfully, he wished he could. When the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, this fact had been particularly troubling to him. Now that he knew that people believed that he could become the next Lord Voldemort, the disturbing truth resurfaced.
You know it's possible, his mind continued. The Sorting Hat wouldn't have had such a difficult time if it didn't know that you were capable of great things. Possibly terrible, but great. You know you were offered a chance to join Voldemort's side, with the highest unimaginable price of death to the good side of the wizarding world, and you almost took it. You almost took it under the selfish consideration that you might finally get to meet your parents and live somewhere other than with the Dursleys. You almost jeopardized the entire wizarding world because of your selfishness.
'But I've never truly known my parents,' he argued, determined to make himself believe that he would never have considered taking Voldemort up on his offer. 'I would never do something so positively stupid!' He glared into the darkness, upset with his brain. 'I wouldn't even think of doing something like that!' He knew that he was lying to himself, because he, in fact, had considered taking Voldemort's offer, until he realized what would happen to the rest of the wizarding world.
Harry remembered what Dumbledore told him once, when he was brooding over whether the Sorting Hat had placed him in the wrong house. "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."
Another deep, dark corner of his mind wondered what it might be like to be the Dark Lord. People bowing to you, having more servants than he could count, making people live in fear... Some things seemed rather formidable, while others were frightening. He sighed deeply, trying to push this thought out of his mind. He didn't want to become a Dark Wizard; he didn't even want to think about it!
He forced himself to think of something else. Hermione and Ron, think of Hermione and Ron, he ordered himself. They were probably having loads of fun off at the Burrow, practicing Quidditch and flying, working on spells, and spending time with all of the Weasley children. They would probably be going to Diagon Alley soon; Harry hoped he would be able to join them, because he still needed his school supplies. He would ask Dumbledore tomorrow, he decided.
Tomorrow, he yawned to himself. Tomorrow, I need to have some ideas on how to fight Voldemort. I don't know! He protested. I'm only a student. McGonagall was right; I shouldn't have come to Hogwarts to help them. How could I help them? He frowned into his pillow and opened his eyes, looking about the dormitory, hoping for even the slightest idea.
His eye caught on his Invisibility Cloak, hung in the corner of the armoire. Maybe a late-night stroll around the castle would soothe his mind. He hoped.
---
Ron and Hermione were having the same difficulties sleeping. Ron was worried about Harry's safety at the castle; he didn't think it was right that Harry, who was only sixteen, had to help the professors to defeat Voldemort. He knew, though, that Hogwarts was one of the safest places for Harry at this time, because the only wizard that Voldemort truly feared was Dumbledore. He closed his eyes and this time, fell into a deeply troubled sleep.
Hermione, in Ginny's room, was tossing and turning in a light sleep. She, too, was worried about Harry, but for different reasons than Ron. She had always felt a bit of a maternal instinct when she was around Harry; since he'd lost his mother at such a young age and had never had much guidance while he grew up, and now she was feeling extra protective of him, now that he was probably in mortal danger yet again. She sighed in her sleep and rolled towards the wall. Curling up in the fetal position, she began to dream.
In her dream, Hermione saw Harry standing in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, hands held to the sky. He had a malicious look painted upon his face and he was chanting something strange. She couldn't quite understand it; he was too far away for her to hear it correctly. Something materialized in front of him and he took it greedily, drinking from a goblet sitting on the table next to him. He had a wild, crazed look in his eyes and for the first time in her life, Hermione was genuinely afraid of Harry. Just the look in his eyes was enough to turn anyone into a puddle of fear. She saw an incarnation of Lord Voldemort appear in front of him and she gasped.
Hermione shook herself awake, sweating buckets. She hoped nothing like that would happen while Harry was the only student at Hogwarts. She knew, deep in her heart of hearts, that nothing could, since Dumbledore was there and he could protect Harry, but still she worried. Harry was vulnerable. He was called upon whenever there was a mishap in the Dark World, so he could save the rest of the wizarding world. She also knew that most of the time, he wanted to go. He felt it was his obligation, as the Boy Who Lived. He wanted to help people. He could never work for Voldemort, she told herself firmly. Never in his entire life would he do something so stupid. Harry wasn't so selfish.
Only somewhat convinced, Hermione shut her eyes again, hoping for a dreamless sleep.
---
Harry walked about the castle, taking in all of the sights that he'd known ever since he'd been a first-year. The castle was more welcoming at night, with less harsh lighting and loud talking in the halls to disturb Harry's thought processes. He held his lantern in front of him, breathing softly so as not to catch the attention of any professors who might be prowling the halls. He walked past the classrooms and down towards the area of Dumbledore's office. He paused there for a moment, looking at the gargoyle which guarded Dumbledore's private living quarters. He'd only been in the office as many times as he could count on one hand, but he always remembered every single detail of the office. He remembered the Pensieve, his phoenix, Fawkes, and where the Sorting Hat sat on a stool in the back corner of the room. He sighed and moved on. The only times he'd been in Dumbledore's office was when Voldemort had been terrorizing the school. He expected he would be spending much more time in there during this school year than he ever had in his entire life. He turned around, walking back towards the classrooms. Professor Snape had materialized outside of his Potions room; he was walking directly toward Harry. Harry held his breath and flattened himself against the wall. If he thought Snape was surly during the day, he didn't want to find out what he was like at night when he wasn't supposed to be out of bed. He held his hand over his mouth and didn't move until he was sure Snape was long out of hearing distance. He waited with bated breath, watching Snape go slowly down the corridor, looking a bit shifty.
Harry let out a whoosh of breath once Snape had rounded a corner and he could no longer see him. He closed his eyes in relief and decided now would be a good time for him to return to his dormitory. Besides, now he was tired, and he thought he could fall asleep as soon as his head would hit his pillow. He scurried up the stairs to whisper the password to the Fat Lady, and threw the Invisibility Cloak off as soon as he got through the portrait hole. He breathed a sigh of relief and walked up the stairs to his dormitory. Once there, he collapsed into his bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
---
The next morning, Harry awoke to a beautiful sunny day. He pulled some clothes on and yanked his robes on over them. He brushed his teeth and then walked down to the Great Hall for a quick breakfast before he met with the teachers to discuss what they were to do.
He ate a hurried breakfast of scrambled eggs and hash browns, washing it all down with a freshly squeezed glass of pulpy orange juice. He felt like Professor Snape was glaring at him while he ate, as if he knew that Harry had been out of bed the night before and he was itching to catch him. Harry yawned a great yawn unconsciously and rubbed his eyes from lack of sleep. Looking up, he saw the murderous glare from Snape piercing into his skull and quickly looked back down. He shoveled his food down his throat and excused himself from the table to go to the staff room to think of ways to combat Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort.
---
He strode quickly down the hall to the staff room and opened the door. He sighed a great sigh of relief when he saw that no one was in there. He took a soft armchair next to the fire and closed his eyes to think.
The only idea he could come up with was rather uninspired, in his mind. He thought that sheer force and violence against Lucius and Voldemort would be the best idea, because it was what had worked in his experience. He had beaten Voldemort and Quirrell, Tom Riddle, and a swarm of Death Eaters with Voldemort. He didn't see why the tried and true method wouldn't work. He sighed and allowed the fire to lull him into a comfortable state between awake and asleep.
He soon dozed off into a sleep so deep that he didn't hear the professors when they entered the room.
"Harry," Dumbledore said gently, nudging him on the shoulder. "Harry, wake up. We have important things to discuss."
Harry turned over and mumbled, "In a minute, Aunt Petunia," yawning greatly. He opened his eyes and found that it, indeed, was not his Aunt Petunia who was shaking him awake; it was Headmaster Dumbledore. He flushed a deep crimson and apologized to the professors.
"Please join us at the table, Harry," Professor McGonagall instructed him, pointing at a seat next to Snape. Harry slowly got up from the armchair and pulled the chair out next to Professor Snape, whose cold stare he could feel through his light sweater.
"Now, we have many things to discuss this morning. I hope you all brought ideas?" Dumbledore asked cheerfully. There was a simultaneous nodding of heads within the small group, and he continued. "We will have one lunch break at noon, with another short break around 3 to stretch our legs. If you need to do anything, I recommend you do it now."
It was going to be a long day...
---
A/N: Sorry about the delay; as most of you know, ff.net was being a pain in the rear. Chapter 4 will delve deeper into the meeting and other things I do not wish to divulge right now... ;) Starting next Friday, July 5, I'll be gone for a month, so I'm trying to get chapters 4 and 5 out before I leave. Hopefully I'll be able to do it... I hope you enjoyed chapter 3, and, as usual, R&R me.. *~*Lauren*~*