A/N: I apologize for the words that were all mushed together in the last chapter. I think it might have been my space bar, which acts up on occasion, but I don't know for certain what happened, since I was sure that I had edited it all properly. If the same thing happens again, don't hesitate to let me know. (Thanks to Queen Weasel, -my most avid reviewer thus far- who let me know about it the first time.)

Dursley Disclaimer: I wouldn't want some swotty writer trying to take my stuff, so BACK OFF! TAKE THAT! AND THAT! AND THAT! EXPECT JK ROWLING TO JUST SIT AROUND WHILE OTHER PEOPLE STEAL HER STUFF, AY? TAKE THAT YOU SNIVELLING FREAK!

Chapter Twenty-nine –

All's Fair in Quidditch and War

Trelawney's lessons were all two hours long, and by the end of an exhausting January, Harry had seen only a little improvement in her abilities.

He couldn't believe that her style was so shoddy. She had a very good arsenal of jinxes, charms, and spells, but she hadn't a clue of how to use them. She was very difficult to teach, mostly because she just didn't really want to learn how to fight. She kept asking him if the things he had done were fair to use in a duel, and Harry had to keep reminding her that in most of the duels in which he'd participated, the legalities were immaterial, and that skill was all that mattered. The only three spells he would not use in any case were the unforgivables, and she would counter his excuse with the thought that there were plenty of spells that should have been unforgivables that weren't.

He finally broke down one lesson and yelled at her. "You're learning how to fight to keep yourself alive! Not to duel for the purpose of someone's amusement! Fighting is dangerous, and you have to use every tool you have available to you!" and he had stomped down the silver ladder, abandoning the professor for the evening.

"I swear, I'm going to go crazy one of these days." He told Ron once he was back in Gryffindor tower. "With the DA and Quiddich, and Trelawney. I feel like I'm going to rip my hair out. I'll be insane by the end of the term!"

Ron shrugged. "Too late for that mate. You're already insane."

Harry narrowed his eyes at his friend.

A grin was returned. "Well, quiddich game with the Slytherins is tomorrow, then after we win that I'll let up on the practices, and you can teach other people how to bash each other over the heads all you want."

Harry laughed.

"Speaking of practice, I booked the pitch for twenty minutes from now. We can head out early."

Harry groaned.

0 0 0 0 0

Mark obviously hadn't known what to expect in the Gryffindor-Slytherin game because his commentary was slightly out of whack.

"What is he... Hey that's not legal!" he yelled, when Crabbe, who was the Slytherin beater,clubbed Jack Sloper in the head with his bat. Harry pivoted and tried to avoid looking at the mess Crabbe had made of Sloper's nose. The more he could keep his eyes off the game and onto searching for the snitch, the faster it would be over, and the sooner Harry could get back to the Gryffindor common room and verbally abuse Malfoy and his henchmen with Ron and Hermione.

"Penalty shot to Gryffindor!" Madam Hooch yelled, pointing at Crabbe with a foul look on her face.

Ginny took the shot, and got it through. At least they were still scoring.

"The game is now one hundred twenty, to eighty. Slytherin in the lead." Mark called. He sounded highly disappointed that he had to tell the crowd this.

Ron was not doing well today. He'd been bashed by a bludger in the side of the head earlier, and Harry could see that he was still woozy. He hoped he'd be able to last out the game.

"Ron!" Harry called to him. "You all right?"

He had a thin line of blood that ran from the top of his scalp, down one side of his face in front of his ear.

"Doing just fine Harry." He said, but he didn't sound it. He looked a little green, and any movement he made caused his eyes to widen, and his fingers to clench painfully on his broomstick.

Harry couldn't do anything about Ron's situation unless Ron admitted to feeling too dizzy to play. He flew off, keeping his eyes peeled for the elusive snitch.

He caught sight of Hermione in the stands, sitting with Neville, and she had her handswinding her cloak into a knotin obvious fear. She was staring at Ron with horror, and mumbling something incomprehensible under her breath.

Harry vowed then and there, to get the snitch within the next five minutes. If not to save Ron the pain of his injury, then at least to stop Hermione from tearing out onto the pitch to drag the stubborn redhead off to the infirmary.

Malfoy was looking distracted today, and he'd fallen for the wronski feint twice already. It was probably due to the fact that Malfoy was still having difficulty with his tongue after Harry's attack before Christmas. The lack of concentration Malfoy had shown thus far could be the edge they needed to win the game, since Ginny, Ben and Katie were getting clobbered by the Slytherin chasers. It's not that they were all that good, but Crabbe and Goyle, the beaters kept using underhanded techniques to smooth the way for them. Almost all of the goals Gryffindor had achieved so far, were from penalty shots. Over three-quarters of which had been incurred by Crabbe and Goyle.

The snitch fluttered across the pitch right in front of Malfoy, and Harry's heart stuck in his throat for a moment. He breathed a sigh of relief when Malfoy didn't react. He kept his eyes eyes carefully glued to the golden ball. Malfoy wasabsorbed withwatching the Slytherin chasers, oblivious to the presence of the snitch right beside him.

Harry slowly pivoted, keeping the snitch in his sight, and moved in a line towards it. He gradually picked up his speed when he knew that Malfoy couldn't possibly make it in time. Soon he was flying at breakneck speed, directly towards the golden ball, his body bent low towards the handle of his broomstick to cut down on wind resistance.

Malfoy realized what was happening a moment later, when Harry was nearly upon it. He blasted off with horror written in his eyes. Harry reached out one hand, and closed his fist upon air. The snitch had jogged out of his way at the last second, and Harry swerved dangerously to follow it. He closed his hand twice more, and Malfoy was almost on top of him by now.

In desperation, he concentrated on the fluttering golden wings, held out his hand, and as soon as the snitch was less than a foot away, he silently summoned it.

The snitch flew right into the palm of his hand.

For a moment, he was elated, clutching the prize, and holding it aloft as the cheers of the crowd rang over his head. Then after a moment, while listening to the raucus boos of the Slytherins, he suddenly felt horrible, and retracted his extended arm to look closely at the snitch he had caught as though it were infested with some evil virus.

It was supposed to be illegal for the seeker to summon the snitch into his hand. He'd read about it in 'Quiddich Through the Ages'. Did anyone else realize what he had just done? He hadn't said the charm out loud after all. Would anyone have been able to see the magic?

He pasted an expression of triumph on his face, and went to congratulate his team members, leaving Malfoy scowling bitterly behind him.

After a minute of being patted on the back and heartily embraced, Harry quickly flew over to the Gryffindor goals where Ron sat on his broom batting Ginny away from his head. Hermione stood on the ground, wringing her hands and staring up at them.

"G'way Gin. I've got to finish the game!" Ron said, batting her hands away from where they were attending to his bloodied head.

"Ron, you've got to come to the hospital wing." Ginny pleaded with him.

Ron pushed her in the shoulder, nearly unseating her from her broom. "You're a chaser, go chase something." As Ginny began to slip, there was a terrified yelp from Hermione, down on the ground.

"Ron, the game's over. Trust me. We've won!" Harry interjected, flying close enough to make sure Ginny still had a good grip on her broom handle.

"We've got to win, Harry! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be looking for the snitch?"

"I already found it Ron. Come on, we're taking you to the infirmary." He grabbed Ron's arm, and pulled him forwards. Ginny took his other arm, and they attempted to guide his broom toward the ground. Ron struggled the whole way.

"No! Harry! What are you doing? The goals will be open! Anyone could score!"

"Ron, Hermione doesn't want any of us in the air anymore. She doesn't like flying a broomstick remember?"

"Hmm." Ron's hum sounded as if it could have been thoughtful or it could have been an attempted laugh.

"If we don't get you onto the ground right now, she's going to turn into eyespy and come up here to get you herself to stop you from playing."

Ron's eyes widened. "She doesn't want me to play?"

"She doesn't want you to get hurt."

"Hmm." That incomprehensible thoughtful-laugh came out of him again. "Hermione's really worried about me." He sounded as if he might have been proud of this.

"Yes, now will you come to the infirmary?"

"Okay."

They reached the base of the stands, and Hermione was waiting. She looked as if she was ready to slug Ron, but the sight of the blood running down his cheek, and the vacant grin he sent in her direction made her change her mind. "Ron! What did you think you were doing!"

"I was playing quiddich!" Ron told her exhuberantly. "I'm the captain you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and transfigured her Gryffindor flag into a clean white cloth, which she pressed carefully against his scalp making him wince. "Yes, I know you're the Captain. Doesn't that make it your responsibility to stop the game if one of your players gets too hurt? You shouldn't have been playing so long. You've got a bad injury."

"Hmm. Not so bad."

"It's bad if I say it's bad!" Hermione insisted. "Look at the mess you've made of your quiddich robes!"

"That's just for effect." Ron told her, beginning to stumble along the path up to the castle. "Means I've had a good game."

Harry and Ginny trailed along behind their two bickering friends toward the hospital wing, and although Harry was worried for Ron, he couldn't get the thought out of his head that he had cheated.

"Ginny, did you see what happened?" Harry asked her out of the corner of his mouth, as they climbed up the front steps into the school.

"Goyle attacked Ron with the bludger when madam Hooch's back was turned. The stupid git knows he's not supposed to attack the keeper when the quaffle isn't inside the scoring area. He just did it to sabotage us.Onepenalty shotis hardly a fitting retribution."

"No, I meant with the snitch. At the end of the game. Did you see that?"

"Huh?" Ginny asked, looking puzzled.

Harry gulped. He had to tell someone. He was feeling horrible, and he knew that the only way to get this feeling of total self-disgust to leave was to get it off his chest.

"I think I cheated Ginny."

Ginny furrowed her brow. "How? I didn't see anything. I don't think anyone else did either."

Harry quickly scanned the hallway around him."I used wandless and soundless magic to summon the snitch into my hand."

Ginny's eyes widened. "That isn't legal!" She hissed.

"Hence the word cheated." Harry whispered back sarcastically.

"Why would you do that? Weren't you closer to the snitch than Malfoy was? Why did you think you needed to?"

"That's just it. I didn't need to. It just sort of happened."

"Were you just getting tired? Did you think he might get there before you even though you were closer?"

"No, not really. I couldn't say why I did it. Impatience or something, I guess, but the fact is I did, and I don't know what to do about it now."

"Why is this so important to you?" Ginny asked, suddenly changing her tactics. "I mean, you would have caught the snitch eventually, I'm almost sure of it. Are you worried that someone will find out?"

"No, If they find out, then they find out. It's more just a matter of the fact that I cheated at all. What if this is the beginning? What if it's the one tiny little thing that starts the ball rolling, and I turn into some horribly evil version of myself?"

"Don't tell anyone else."

Harry felt himself blanch. "I couldn't do that. I don't want to become the next Voldemort. I'm going to tell Madam Hooch."

Ginny smiled. "I was just testing you. That's what I wanted to hear. I think that with that sentence, you just absolved yourself."

"Really?"

"Well, you still have to follow through on turning yourself in, but the fact that you've promised to do so says that you have a high sense of morality. You aren't evil Harry, and you could never be. Not if you keep up your ethics, and admit your mistakes."

A heavy breath whooshed out of him, and Harry suddenly felt as light as a feather. Lighter even. People had told him that he was a good person before, but when Ginny said it in that way, she really made him believe that it was true. She seemed to even have proof to back it up.

"I'll meet you all later in the hospital wing." He told her, and left to go and see Madam Hooch.

0 0 0 0 0

"It's not possible." Madam Hooch gaped at Harry.

"Well I did, and I needed to turn myself in." Harry assured her.

"No, I mean it's not possible for someone to summon the snitch. I've counter charmed it not to respond to that particular charm. You couldn't possibly have summoned it."

Harry sat down in the chair opposite her desk with semi-relief. "Well it certainly felt like I had summoned it. It moved into my hand."

"Well, I don't believe that's what happened. I've seen the snitch do some strange things, and it's not exactly charmed to run away from people, just to move quickly and silently so as not to be seen."

"Oh." Harry said. "But I did try to summon it, and I know that's illegal."

"Yes it is, but since it's impossible for the snitch to follow those directions, I promise not to take away the quiddich cup. Failed summoning charm or no, Gryffindor did win in the end."

"But aren't I in trouble?"

"I think you showed very promising initiative to turn yourself in, and I'm glad you've told me. I'll be taking twenty points from Gryffindor for your illegal act, and as long as you promise not to try it again, I don't see why you shouldn't just go about your business as usual."

"Oh." Harry said again, feeling confused and pleased at the same time. He was glad he wasn't kicked off the team or anything. McGonagall said that if she had any reason to send him away than she would. Obviously this didn't quite qualify.

He left the flying instructor's office thinking to himself that he'd had plenty of potions classes with Snape where he'd lost many more points, and had a much harder time emotionally than the encounter he'd just had.

0 0 0 0 0

That night, he lay in bed feeling miserable, and unhappy. He shouldn't have thought to summon the snitch to himself. Even if what Madam Hooch had said was true, it was against the rules. It was underhanded and sneaky. He was glad that Madam Hooch had taken twenty points from Gryffindor, it made him feel a little better, but he still didn't feel comfortable with himself.

It was an incredibly Slytherin thing to do.

It was selfish.

Hagrid's thoughts about Harry being on the verge of dangerous flooded his mind. Not that a simple cheat on a Quiddich game would suddenly turn him into a dark wizard, but couldn't it be the beginning? Could it be the first selfish act that pushed him towards the darker path? Ginny thought not, and as long as he kept thinking morally, he could never become like Voldemort. She had to be right. She had to.

He thought for a second about his nemesis. What sort of things had Tom Riddle done that made him the creature he was today? What sorts of shameful and selfish things had he inflicted on others while he was learning how to be human? Had he ever really learned to be human?

He had probably done a lot worse at sixteen than cheating on a quiddich game. Ginny's experience with his diary could attest to that. According to his diary self, he'd set the basilisk upon the students of Hogwarts, and even killed poor Myrtle, who was now a ghostwho hauntedthe third floor girls lavatory.

Harry even wondered if Tom Riddle had played Quiddich when he had been in Hogwarts. If so, what other things did they have in common? He knew that Riddle had been raised in a muggle orphenage, and that his muggle father had wanted nothing to do with him or his mother. His mother had died giving birth to him. Would she have loved him? Or would she have hated him for reminding her of the man who had obviously abandoned her in her time of need?

At least Harry's relatives had taken him in. That was certainly something. His aunt Petunia may not have liked the idea, but she had taken him in. There was something about that thought that comforted Harry. No matter how much he loathed being at Privet Drive, there was some adult in this world who cared enough about him, or at least felt the sting of family obligation enough to take him in.

Tom Riddle hadn't had that. His own father had abandoned him to a muggle orphenage. It was likely a horrid place to be for a child. It meant that Harry had something very important in common with Tom Riddle. Their lives had both been changed drastically when they were elevenwith the arrival of a letter carried by an owl.

No one ineither Harry or Tom'schildhood had thought that they would ever be anything but a burden to them.

So a burden was whatTom had been.

And Harry haddecidedoh so hard not to be one.

Harry, unlike Voldemort, had the comfort of knowing that his parents had loved him for a whole year. He knew that they had loved him enough to die for him. That his aunt had cared enough about him to realize her familial duty.

Unlike Voldemort, Harry had seen a glimpse of what family was supposed to be. Not that the Dursleys were much of a role model, but the ghost of happiness lay just beneath the surface, and he could sort of feel the way things should have been had he not been present.

Harry gritted his teeth, and shoved the fear to the back of his mind.

Someoneloved me once. He chanted over and over in his mind. Someone may yet love me now.

Half an hour later, he felt calm enough to fall asleep.

0 0 0 0 0

The room was dark and shadowed, and three figures knealt at the foot of his robes. It was not the persitent darkness of Death-Eater headquarters, but some place else. This place had an expensive look to it. Oil portraits and gilt windows showed recent signs of being dusted in the moonlight that slitted through heavy black drapes. Silver torches lined the walls, but only two of which were lit. Not enough to see the faces of the three cloaked men.

He turned to the first. "Lucius, you have done me well over these past months. You shall be rewarded. I will allow you a month to go off and visit with your wife. I have heard that she pines for you, and has prepared the necessary precautions for your safety." He smirked, to make it clear that he thought women a disgusting weakness.

"My lord, I aim only to serve you. Do you send me away because I displease you?" The greasy blond man answered with a slight lisp. The speech impediment was the remenant of an attack involving that cursed Potter boy before Christmas. Lucius had not been the same ever since.

"You answer well Lucius. But I must respond in the negative. I have met your wife. I think her a charming female. She is useful to our cause, and I wish to please her. I do not send you away for your sake, but for hers, and for the sake of your son, whom she tells me must have your wisdom and guidance when he visits soon. He may be useful to us as well."

Lucius nodded, and grinned evilly.

"Go now, and stay away from the eyes of the Aurors. Take your amulet with you, and you may return to our fold when I call."

Lucius Malfoy apparated out of the room smiling.

"Now Antonin. Show me what you and Lucius have found."

The second figure stood with pride in his eyes. He led the way as they walked slowly from the first room through a small door, and into the next.

A grey lump of robes was flopped into a corner of the second room.

"I have stunned him. He will wake in less than a minute."

"My god, it's the minister." The voice of the third figure spoke, and the Dark Lord turned on him, eying the man critically. "That is obvious, Severus. I hope you are speaking simply of amazement."

"Of course master. You know that I have not been comfortable with physical violence for some time. I was simply pleased that Dolohov and Malfoy were able to capture him for your amusement. It is certainly a victory for you."

The Dark Lord did not completely believe him, but that did not matter. He had not yet done anything to disprove his allegiance. Severus Snape might not be comfortable with the act of performing violence on others, but the Dark Lord had seen into his mind. He certainly thought violent things. The master would simply have to bide his time. Perhaps a test of wills would speed things along?

Voldemort smiled.

"Appariward, sense, victory, pleasure, war." He said, waving his wand, and he felt the powerful apparition wards go up around him.

"Please leave us, Antonin, Severus. I will 'question' him myself."

The two forms left the room.

"Enervate."

Harry woke.

"Not again." He mumbled, feeling his scar crack with pain.

The minister of Magic was being tortured, and no one would be able to help him. No one could get inside those wards.

Except Harry.

He realized what he could do. The minister was alone with Voldemort. Harry could go into the dark lord's head, and try to take the wards down for the minister to apparate away. He would have to concentrate.

Harry looked over at Ron's sleeping form, and he felt the sting of another blast of torture through his scar.

There was no time to lose.

What was the code again?

"Appariward, sense, victory, pleasure, war." Harry mumbled to himself, then he quickly reversed the order of them in his mind.

He began to meditate.

A sense of duality stole over Voldemort for a split second, and Harry worked to push his own emotions away.

"Minister?" He heard the voice come out of his mouth was split between his own, and that of his nemesis.

Cornelius Fudge's body shook with fear.

"Minister, It's Harry."

"No, please don't hurt me!" the minister shrieked.

"Minister, I've taken over Voldemort's body for a second, and I can't stay long. I just need you to do something for me."

"What? Harry?... Harry Potter?"

"Yes, it's me. Don't tell anyone that I can do this. Even Voldemort doesn't know. I'm going to help you right now. Are you all right to apparate?" Harry asked softly, trying to tone the creakyness of his new voice down.

The minister stood on shaky legs, and immediately collapsed back to the floor. "Probably best if I don't stand." He said nervously. "I'll be all right to apparate, though... I think."

"Minister, I'm going to take the apparition wards off the building. I know the code he used, and I want you to disapparate as soon as I leave."

"Okay." Fudge said in a small voice. "Thank you." He couldn't bear to look up into the horrible face, but Harry understood. One did not expect a teenager to have eyes like that. Nor did one truly want to believe that a teenager could be able to save a life the way Harry was now doing.

Hope was too precious a thing to just throw around sometimes.

Harry raised the unfamilliar wand, and knew he would be able to use it well. It was the brother of his own, the other feather from Fawkes, after all. The power of it felt similar, but the wood was different. Whisps of clinging evil passed through the tips of his fingers where he touched it, and Harry felt weakened by it. He felt his scar twinge a little, before he remembered that in this body, he had no scar. The thought unnerved him. He had to concentrate, or this would not work.

"War, pleasure, victory, sense, appariward." Said Harry quickly, waving the unfamiliar wand.He knew he would not be able to stay after performing the spell. The evil of this wand permeated his system, and it drained him. He quickly lowered the wand, and slid out of Voldemort's mind before he lost his control completely, and did something stupid like get himself noticed. He rested for a moment at the edge of Voldemort's consciousness.

A sense of duality stole over Voldemort, and he looked down at his prize. If he was feeling dizzy then it wouldn't do to take too much time interrogating this man. He could already see that it was going to be a pointless venture, although he had planned to toy withthe ministerslightly longer. This man didn't know anything about the Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore. It would be best to dispose of him quickly.

"I'll have to cut this meeting short Minister. I hope you don't mind." He pointed his wand at the shuddering pile of robe, thinking that this was the time to end it. The killing curse would suffice, and he could dispose of the body quite easily. Or perhaps he would send the body back to the ministry as a warning?

Although he was inches from death, Cornelius Fudge smiled weakly. "Just the words I was looking for," he said shakily, and disapparated.

Voldemort screamed with frustration.