Chapter 2 – Philosophical Dilemma

"Voldemort things are becoming precarious!"

"What do you mean?" Voldemort asked, though he knew perfectly well what the man meant.

"I mean that Harry Potter is doubting whether he wants to fight you."

"How do you know?"

"It is enough that I know," the Cloaked Figure snapped. "He must fight you!"

"Why?"

"Fool! Once he's dead, we have nothing to stop us!"

"I thought you said you wanted me to lose," Voldemort accused quietly.

"That's only in an extreme case scenario."

"I don't trust you," Voldemort finally said.

"Neither do I, but I use you because I must! Because I have to-,"

"Keep the balance, I know. I've heard it before," Voldemort said, a little scared at what he was doing.

"You dare interrupt me? I think you need to remember who's the Master here! The Cloaked Figure raised his wand. "Crucio!

Voldemort screamed on the ground, until he had no voice left. He gasped for air, but his lungs were burning. The pain was so bad. Finally, it relented.

"There!" The Cloaked Figure said smugly. "Who do you serve?"

Voldemort choked, "You My Lord."

"That's better. Remember Voldemort. You kill me, you have nothing."

"And you kill me you have nothing."

"Don't be so sure. I have far more backup plans than you can imagine!"

"So is your plan coming to fruitation?" Voldemort asked, once again, frightened of the Master.

"My plan isn't world domination like yours! Remember, I keep the balance!"

"You mind explaining to me what that means?"

"All in good time. You will find out soon enough."

Harry sat despondently at the Hog's Head, just a few miles from the wedding reception. He wasn't sorry he left. Here, nobody cared that he had problems. Nobody cared that he was suffering. All the better. The more people left him alone the better.

The place was just as dingy as Harry remembered it. A pale light flickered of the candles catching people laughing around the bar. The same filthy bartender was there (Harry could've sworn that that was the same glass he was washing when he came in here during fifth year). It was almost a surreal experience. Harry remembered how he had started the D.A. here.

When did everything change? Back then in seemed so simple. Fight Voldemort, with all your strength but now, it was a lot more complicated. It was so black and white back then. Childhood innocence. Now there was a gray line in between what he felt was right and what he felt was wrong.

Was it right to take a beings life, even for the greater good? How could he, Harry do murder?

"Voldemort killed many people Harry," he told himself.

You can't justify many wrongs with one wrong. If I kill one, or many what does it matter? I still took a life.

The problem was that Harry hated Voldemort. He hated Voldemort with all of his strength and he knew he couldn't do the murder in anger. He wasn't sure if he could do the murder at all. If he did kill Voldemort with rage in his heart what would happen. Harry thought ahead, but didn't see anything. Just a black void hung between him and his destiny.

How could he abandon his friends to be killed by Voldemort? Harry sighed. He couldn't, therefore he would have to try, but Harry knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't take a beings life with the curse that had killed so many, including his parents.

Suddenly, interrupting his musing came a man who sat down next to him, "Mr. Potter, such a pleasure to meet you!" He grabbed Harry's hand and shook it.

"Well, what'd you think of me?" Harry asked, a little annoyed at this strangers intrusion. He gestured at his ragged clothes and probably five o' clock shadow.

"Great as usual," the reporter said quickly not wanting to offend. "Well Mr. Potter, I was just wondering. You see I'm a reporter for the Daily Prophet and I was wondering how do you feel about Voldemort?"

"Blimey I can't stand this," Harry said aloud. He threw some coins in the bars general direction and sprinted out. Why did his life always have to be interrupted? Couldn't he just sit at a bar in peace without being interrupted about Voldemort?

He had to kill Voldemort just so his life would be normal. The problem was, would it ever be normal again?

Harry had been called a psychopath in his life. He had been called a snobby little brat. However, he had never been called a coward before. In fact, one of the things people seemed to admire most about him was his bravery.

Harry sighed for the umpteenth time since the previous day. It wasn't that he minded it being called a coward; he just felt that it was wrong to attack. Self-defense was one thing, but if attacking meant lowering yourself to Voldemort's level, wasn't that just as bad? Most of this came from fear, which sounded crazy as he was being called a coward unjustly, of killing Voldemort. Not the actually process because he would be glad to get rid of the Dark Lord, but what would happen to him. How could he live his life while knowing he did murder, and what would happen to him.

He mulled all this over in thought. It was tiring business, these dilemmas, but nobody stopped to think about murder. They glazed over it because they never even had to consider using Avada Kedavra.

Voldemort had told Harry that he, Harry, would be a powerful Dark Wizard. Moreover, was it not right to be concerned about becoming evil? If they had half a brain, they wouldn't call him a coward because they would be dead if he was evil. Harry grinned at this.

Harry shook his head. Too often, these thoughts had been coming into his head. Too often had they been plaguing his thoughts. What would happen after Voldemort was dead? Would the citizens of the world have something the greater of two evils in Harry?

It was a scary thought and Harry blocked it out. He had to focus on his duty. Kill Voldemort and not become evil. He could do that if he just didn't hate Voldemort. Nevertheless, he did and that brought him back to square one.

"I can't keep having these thoughts," Harry said to himself and started walking towards his house and the bed that would carry him off to a more trouble-free place.

He was greeted with a less than enthusiastic greeting from Ron the next day when he went to their house. The house was a mess, because they had to do last minute packing for their honeymoon. Newspapers were strewn all over the floor. Sweaters, swimming suits, and other articles of clothing were lying around, ready to be put into suitcases.

"You could've at least stayed," Ron accused slightly vexed. "I didn't push the issue of dancing because I felt sorry for you, but come on Harry!"

"Look Ron I've gotta-,"

"Sort things out I know. Believe me Harry, everyone knows what problems you have," Ron said starting to turn vicious.

Harry felt his face go red, but not from embarrassment. "Ron look-,"

"No you look. If I can't count on my best mate to be there for me, what can I count on?"

Hermione who had been listening to this whole conversation finally butted in, "Look you two. I don't care that Harry didn't stay. Ron if he says he's got to leave, he should leave."

"But-," Ron started to say, but couldn't finish. He had run out of words. It didn't stop him from glaring at Harry though.

Harry gritted his teeth angrily, "Look you said you'd be there for me. Right now though, I don't see it pal."

"Fine. What do you want to say?" Ron asked, slightly sarcastic.

Hermione looked at Harry, "Harry, you should tell us," she said gently.

"Nothing right now," Harry said. He wasn't about to talk to Ron about anything.

"Fine. I'm leaving then," Ron said defiantly.

"Yeah Ron. Go pack your stuff," Hermione said. Ron stormed out of the room and huffed. Hermione collapsed in an armchair as she sighed.

"You know usually you're both slightly wrong, and I'd never thought I'd say it, but it's all his fault." Hermione fumed. "Jesus I can't stand him sometimes."

"Neither can I, but the difference is I didn't pick to spend the rest of my life with him," Harry said grinning. Hermione laughed slightly, but then her face turned to concern.

"Harry, what's really wrong?" Harry looked away, confused about everything.

"Nothing," he said looking away again. Darn it! Why did he have to do that every time he didn't want to answer questions?

Hermione put her face in an I-Don't-Believe-You stare. "I don't think it was nothing that made you leave our reception. Harry still didn't say anything.

Hermione was just as persistent as Ron was the other night. "Harry you can't tell anyone if you can't tell us. We're leaving on our honeymoon tomorrow. Please, just tell me."

Harry didn't know why he started. Maybe it was because he didn't want to worry Ron on his wedding night. Maybe it was that he'd been pestered too much about this and he had to get it off his chest. "Voldemort has been avoiding me for several months now," he started.

"That's gr-," Hermione started immediately to comfort him, but Harry held up a hand. "Just wait," he said.

"Voldemort's been avoiding me, but look in the paper," Harry picked it up. He saw Hermione's intrigue on her features as he flicked through the newspaper. "There!" he said. The headline read, Three Wizards Die in Attack.

"They died because I'm too cowardly to seek him out!" Harry said.

"Harry that's crazy! You're not a coward! No one is to blame, but V-," but again Harry stopped her. "Save it Hermione," he said annoyed at all these intrusions. "Wait until I finish."

"Hermione, I have to face him," he said finally. She saw his tears in his eyes and studied him. She saw in there determination, she also saw fear.

"Fear of what?" she thought. "Voldemort? No, Harry wasn't scared of dying anymore." She just couldn't put a finger on it.

"If I intercede and Voldemort kills me, I'll doom the Earth. If I don't intercede, Voldemort dooms the Earth in a much longer time frame. Hermione, the showdown is coming."

"And what if you kill him?" she asked trying to reassure him.

"That's even worse. What happens then?"

"You save the world!" she said, clearly not understanding what Harry was getting at. Harry sighed. It was the same all over. Nobody stopped to think in his shoes. Nobody really thought about actually killing someone.

He couldn't take it anymore so finally he yelled "NO!" Hermione jumped, but said nothing. He took a breath and calmed down. "I hate him Hermione," he said quietly. "I want to kill that beast with every ounce of my strength, but what happens then? What do I become? If I kill him with hate, what do I become?" he was starting to repeat himself. He was breaking down mentally.

"A hero," she said quietly though she could tell that wasn't right.

Harry shook his head. He dropped his voice to a whisper and knelt beside her, "A murderer, Hermione. No better than him. That's all I will be."

"You will never be as bad as Voldemort Harry, you can't be!" She saw that this was the wrong thing to say. His features were desperate, but also defeated. He wasn't broken yet, but she knew the truth and she knew exactly what he was going to say.

"Hermione, I keep telling you, I hate him. That means I already am."