Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling and her assorted publishers, not to me; I'm not making money off this.
Spoilers: All five HP novels.
PRELUDE TO WAR--MUSINGS
II: Harry (Thursday, 4 July 1996)
At about the same time that Dumbledore's mind was wandering, so also was Harry Potter's. Still in pain over the death of his beloved Godfather, and still badly shaken at the revelation of the Prophecy that he and no one else must kill Voldemort or die at the Dark Lord's hand, Harry was sitting on his bed at Number 4 Privet Drive, trying desperately to figure out something—anything—to do about it. While he knew that he was stuck at the Dursleys' house for at least a month to reinforce the blood protection, he was still forbidden to do magic there, and he begrudged the time wasted when he could be getting ready for whatever it was that he had to do. Things such as Quidditch, dates, History of Magic homework, and even the receipt of his upcoming OWL grades seemed to pale in insignificance beside the fact that he would have to kill Voldemort, or else die. He was not yet sixteen, and he had already fought in several battles as if he were an adult Wizard. Well, he had better start preparing to be one, or else there might be no future for Hogwarts or its students.
He had already gone through the blame cycle for Sirius Black's death: blaming himself, Dumbledore, Snape, Kreacher, and Sirius himself in equal parts with Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort. But he had come to realize that the only true constant in the matter was Voldemort: if it were not for him, Bellatrix would not have been in a position to Stun Sirius into the Veil. Granted, all the others had played a part; but none of them, not even Snape, had intended Sirius' death except maybe Kreacher; he was so old and crazy even by House Elf standards, a case could be made for Madame Black's portrait encouraging him to lie to Dumbledore and Harry, who after all weren't his masters. If not for Voldemort, Sirius would have never been in Azkaban, or in hiding, because of murders he did not commit, and gone nearly mad again stuck in a house he hated. It still hurt, knowing all that he, Harry, would never have because of Sirius' death: but while Sirius was gone, there were many others still alive and well, and if Harry had anything to say about it, they would stay that way. Sirius, at least, had died fighting, as Hagrid had said; Cedric Diggory had never even had that chance, and that was Voldemort's fault as well, even more than Harry's.
He leaned back against the wall, forcing himself to consider the events in the Ministry. One of the harder things he had had to do was acknowledge (with, however, many silent tears) that he could not have stopped his five friends from going with him, even though they had all been injured in some fashion. He also knew that the next time—and there would be one, given the way things were going—they would do exactly the same. Harry had had few friends in his life, and none before Hogwarts, so he valued and cherished the ones he had and would have gladly died for any of them. His greatest desire was to prevent the least harm from coming to his friends—and because they were his friends, they were targets. Unfortunately, they were also targets on their own merits: the Weasleys and Neville for being members of staunch anti-Voldemort Order families; Luna because of her father's Quibbler not fearing to speak the truth (though granted it was mixed in with a lot of tabloid-style weirdness); and Hermione because she was a Muggle-born witch who outshone all the Purebloods in her year. The only way he could stop harm coming to them was to stop Voldemort, and at least his main supporters. And, while he wished with all his heart that he could do it all himself, he knew that even if he could handle the Dark Lord one-on-one someday (Dumbledore's duel with Voldemort in the Ministry was an object lesson in what class he was presuming to fight in), he couldn't handle him and even a small cadre of Death Eaters at the same time. He simply could not put himself between each of his friends and danger, all the time; there was only one of him, and he had to concentrate on the bigger target. He would have to gulp down his pride and his pain, no matter how much it hurt, and allow himself to have help. He needed the training and the help to survive long enough to kill Voldemort, and take down as many Death Eaters as possible; his friends needed the same to fight off the Death Eaters for him with as few losses as possible. He would worry about what happened afterward--if there was an afterward.
(A little voice in his mind kept whispering: "But what about me and my needs? I need to go places, have friends, and do things! I've had nothing all my life until I went to Hogwarts! It's not fair!"
He thought for a minute or two, and answered it: "Life isn't fair, and never has been! If Riddle is not destroyed, there will be no friends, no places to walk, and no me TO do things! First things are going to have to come first, fair or not. It isn't fair to the rest of them that all their lives hang on what I have to do!")
To that end, he made several resolutions: no more needless deaths if he could prevent them. (Voldemort's was a needed death.) No more skiving off anything he had to do that would help him, such as his core classes in Charms, Transfiguration and DADA. If he couldn't do magic over the summer, he could at least get some kind of physical exercise (at least all his chores helped there) so that he wouldn't run out of breath mid-fight. And when school began again he would concentrate on the useful material, and dump the rest. In order to appreciate studying for good NEWT scores, he had to be sure he was alive to take the NEWTs. Anything else—a career, a romance, or whatever—could wait until he had ended the war. To that end, he also resolved that he would continue the DA if he could, but keep it to practical fighting and dueling; the more students who could protect themselves, the fewer students who would need extra protection. Maybe he could invite in some Aurors for guest lectures. He would let the DADA Professor, whomever that ended up to be, handle the theory, the regular curriculum, and basic practice. If his Quidditch ban were lifted, he'd return to the team if he had time (if only for the fact that flying was all he had to relax his mind), but he wouldn't take the Captaincy if offered. Of the returning members, Katie Bell had been there as long as Harry, but she was a Seventh-Year and this was her NEWT year. Ron had only been there one year, but he had forgotten more about the ins and outs of Quidditch strategy than Harry had ever learned. Plus, the Keeper had a far better view of the action than the Seeker or Chasers did. If he could just keep his temper and his focus, Ron would be an excellent Captain—if not this year, then next.
And, reluctantly, he would have to choke down even more humble pie and write two letters of apology.
The first was to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. While he still seethed over not being told enough information that could maybe have spared Sirius, he was also forced to admit two things: first, what had been done, or not, was now in the past and immovable; no one could change it now, and they would all have to deal with what was instead of wasting energy on might-have-beens. Second, the Headmaster had tried to do the best he could with what he had. Further, the old man had taken a large chunk of the blame for Sirius onto himself without ducking it, and had admitted that he was not infallible. Harry was also fairly certain that if he did the right thing and apologized, the Headmaster would forgive Harry's trashing his office (although he wasn't so sure about whether some of the portraits would). After all, hadn't Dumbledore practically invited Harry to hurt him instead of breaking the furniture and trinkets?
Harry grew cold as he thought of how it might have been if he had given into any urge to strike the old Headmaster: he might not have stopped, and Dumbledore might have chosen not to stop him; in fact, he had said as much. What if Voldemort had picked up on it, so soon after the Ministry fight? Harry didn't even want to think about that outcome: he could have accidentally killed or seriously hurt the old man before Dumbledore realized his danger, and then where would he be now? He'd have been sent to Azkaban faster than Sirius had been: Dumbledore was an idol of the Wizarding community. And, his own conscience would have done far more to him than any amount of Dementors. No, he had to learn advanced fighting skills and Occlumency, if he hoped to survive his battle long enough to take down Voldemort, and Dumbledore was his best access to the training he needed.
And speaking of that person: Harry resolved to never again use "You-Know-Who" or any of the other euphemisms that most Wizarding folks used, no matter how many people flinched. For that matter, he also resolved never to use "Lord Voldemort" again, except without the "Lord". In his mind, Voldemort was no proper Lord of anything (Fudge's name of "Lord Thingy" in the Prophet came to mind) and wasn't worthy of a title. For that matter, since "Voldemort" was the Dark Lord's self-chosen nom de guerre, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of using it unless he had to. The man (or whatever he was now) was born Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr., so "Tom Riddle" he would be to Harry, or maybe "the Dark Lord" (never mind that the latter form was most commonly used by Death Eaters and their sympathizers). Also, while everyone seemed to flinch at hearing "Voldemort", saying "Tom Riddle" didn't have that power.
The second was to a man he alternately despised and respected—Severus Snape, the Potions Master of Hogwarts, who had tried to teach Harry Occlumency and thrown him out over Harry violating the privacy of the man's Pensieve. Harry despised Snape for being nothing but unfair and harsh in his classes, and going out of his way to belittle and humiliate a boy he considered a carbon copy of an arrogant father who had been cruel to Snape in their own school days. On his more rational days, however, Harry was forced to respect a man who spied on the Dark Lord for Dumbledore, having many face-to-face encounters with the most feared Wizard alive, enduring pain and humiliation on a regular basis—and still surviving. (Voldemort was not a forgiving sort; he loved for his people to properly grovel at his feet, and tended to be liberal with the Cruciatus Curse.) He had to still be loyal to Dumbledore, no matter what Ron and Mad-Eye said, because he had had numerous opportunities to betray or kill both Dumbledore and Harry, and both still lived. All this, besides, was on top of a full schedule of teaching children and teens a dangerous subject—Potions. That no one had perished in any of his classes in the some ten-fifteen years he'd been teaching at Hogwarts, despite numerous accidents, had to mean something. Also, there was the matter of the life-debt that Snape had owed James Potter: to be honest and fair, Harry had the right, as James' heir, to formally declare the debt repaid at least once or twice over, considering the times Snape had saved his life. Sirius' recklessness been the cause of it; but Harry could declare it redeemed and prove himself better than either his father or his Godfather.
Also, until he found out his OWL scores, he wouldn't know if he was going to get into NEWT Potions. If he did, he resolved to ignore all distractions (putting up shields if need be) and excel in that class, no matter how hard he had to study. He would never gain Snape's respect any other way.
At that time, Harry got out a Muggle pen and notepad and began jotting down a to-do list. "Write letters" was first, followed by a subheading "Dumbledore: apology, book suggestions – Snape: apology, books or teaching aids until able to have lessons – Aurors: Mad-Eye, Tonks: training ideas, books – Hermione."
That latter musing brought another: just what WAS Tom Riddle now, anyway? Was he even a man, worthy of being killed only in a fair fight and not to be cold-bloodedly murdered? Or was he a "being", by the rules of the Ministry of Magic: not human but intelligent, like the House Elves and Goblins, or part-human like werewolves, and not given human status? Apart from Peter Pettigrew, Harry was the only one who had witnessed the actual rebirth in the cemetery (the other Death Eaters had been called in after the rebirth), so whatever he saw there had to be the starting point of his research. That, he realized, would likely fall to Hermione, who could search five books for every one Harry could, and get twice the useful facts-per-book. A pass to the Restricted Section was probably called for—or maybe if the Black library hadn't yet been cleared out—maybe he could get the Headmaster to write one with a term project in DADA as an excuse. Defending against Tom Riddle certainly qualified as DADA, after all! He made a note under "Hermione": "Books, research counter to revival ritual".
Next idea, after some thought, was "Ask Aurors and Order to catch Pettigrew alive". It wasn't just to try and clear Sirius' name, even posthumously, although that was part of it, if only to protect Order HQ. Pettigrew had also been the one to perform the revival ritual, and he would be the one to question where it came from. What could be done could be undone somehow.
Harry's thoughts took him back to he horrendous memory of the rebirth, as his dreams often had; but now he forced himself to look at the ritual. "Bone of the father"—well, Tom Riddle Sr. had been a Muggle, and maybe that was usable. "Blood of the enemy"—that was Harry's own blood, and he would have to see if he could at least magically reclaim it. "Flesh of the servant"—now, if Pettigrew were caught, Harry knew he'd have to do something about that silver hand, if only to protect Remus Lupin from it. He didn't know if it had any powers of its own, and he didn't want to risk any lives finding out. And, as with Riddle, he refused to use Pettigrew's Marauder nickname "Wormtail", except in reference to the Map: in Harry's eyes, he had forfeited the right to that name, or the title of "Marauder", when he took up with his Dark Master. Also, he personally owed Harry a life-debt, and Harry intended to see that bit of information made useful.
With all this in mind, he put aside the notepad, noticing with some surprise that it was almost dinnertime. After fixing dinner for the Dursleys and himself, he went back upstairs, got out parchment, ink and quills, and began writing letters.