Harry Potter: Thinking like a Thief.

It was a day after he had made up his mind to come to the Room of Requirement to fulfil his promise to come here and learn about what Voldemort had done, and he hadn't regretted it.

Yeah, he knew he would get flak from Umbridge, but he didn't care. As he looked around the pile of books related to immortality, experiments and diaries, and reference books written by magical scholars over the centuries while he bunked off his classes without giving a flying fuck - the OWL grades relied on the actual exam, not the class or coursework and anything he missed could be looked up in here or in the library, and if the teachers did not like it then fuck them, Harry let out a sigh.

How the hell had Dumbledore fucked this up so badly? The old wizard had some kind of plan in mind, but as he had gone through the collection of magical books related to immortality, making sure to keep the desire for such information as brief as possible since he did not have the time or the patience to go through a tower block's worth of books, Harry cursed the old wizard for turning this into a Heroes vs Villains game.

That was how he saw it. Dumbledore never seemed to take anything as seriously as he should. He had played the long game by baiting Voldemort with the Philosopher's Stone, allowed the Basilisk to run/slither on a rampage and he had not done a single thing against the giant serpent when he must have known what it was after experiencing similar events in the past. His instincts told him Dumbledore knew much more about the Fidelius Charm his parents had used to hide from Voldemort, and he had not done a thing about Sirius or given the idiot a trial.

Harry hadn't come to the Room of Requirement with a Dumbledore shaped chip on his shoulder and it wasn't his intention to feel nothing but annoyance for the man as he had begun his search through the Room after summoning books on immortality, but as he had gone through t books he was left cursing Dumbledore for doing nothing about Voldemort long ago. The man must have had access to this kind of knowledge, but why was he dumping it on the shoulders of kids?

Some light wizard.

Like their muggle counterparts, magical people had gone out of their way to study immortality; they had the advantage of having magic, and having knowledge of potions, spells and having access to magical creatures who possessed their own unique properties. That gave them a sizeable base for experimentation.

Wizards and witches already lived longer than muggles, and while they aged like muggles it was slower than their non-magical counterparts in comparison. it was perfectly normal for wizards and witches, regardless of their power level, to live for well over a century; some wizards and witches who were more powerful than the average witch or wizard could live for much longer, but few had ever lived for 200 years. But that did not make them immortal; they were ageing all the time, and they were just as vulnerable to the same deliberating effects of old age; liver spots, wrinkled skin was cosmetic, magic might be able to make older people sprier than their muggle counterparts but it was a finite power, pretty soon everyone succumbed to old age and died.

But it was the internal magic of magicals that was the first springboard for immortality experiments. It was well documented in the books there were experiments and discoveries based on that knowledge. Experiments were first begun centuries ago to give more magic to people, in the hopes of allowing them to live for much longer. Unfortunately, while it worked in principle, finding willing donors was almost impossible. A solution was found by a magical exploration ship, where the crew became sick and one of the crew, an enchanter used the magic which propelled and sustained the ship was funnelled into their bodies to keep them alive before they reached help. But when they did finally reach another magical community, the wizard sailors were perfectly healthy. It was discovered that the magic of the ship was fuelling the magic of the wizards, and the method was given some serious study over the matter. One thing that was found was the ship, where the magic was self-sustained, which allowed the crew to live for much longer.

Buoyed by this, a young witch conducted an experiment. Using the same technique as the enchanter, she created a runic tattoo which was part of a long term experiment, and she placed this tattoo on a number of wizards and witches and connected it up to a wizard who was dying of a nasty magical illness.

The witch set the parameters of the criteria of the experiment very, very carefully. First, she wanted to see if the ship case was isolated and if it wasn't she wanted to discover the causes and the long term effects. Second, the witch chose the ailing wizard because his symptoms were just as nasty as the ones on the ship. Thirdly, she wanted to see if the more magic he received, the quicker or the slower he would heal from his illness.

The concept was later used by dark wizards who shared the same aims as Voldemort in terms of wanting to live forever and outlive their enemies, and they marked their followers in order to become more powerful - Harry found a number of wizards like this, and he was left wondering if Voldemort was even remotely imaginative and original; his followers were dressed like the Ku Klux Klan from America's racist extremists, and he had taken this magical tattoo idea which was branded into his followers to not only give him more magic but anchored him to the real world. Even his desires were hardly imaginative; many others had been there before him and Harry hoped to add Voldemort's name to the list of dead dark wizards who had died following their sick causes. But the tattoo idea lit up his brain.

The moment Harry had seen this, coupled with what he knew of the Death Eaters thanks to his secret research, he knew Voldemort had used this method of immortality. He could see the wizard using magical tattoos branded on his followers; Voldemort was determined to be an all-powerful Dark Wizard and he liked being independent, but Harry knew he would think nothing of doing this, and after what the diary had done to Ginny and what his the bastard wraith had done to Quirrell, well, Voldemort didn't give a damn about leeching off of others.

For a moment Harry was tempted to jack in everything he was doing and say this was the only way Voldemort had done it, but he didn't when he had several ideas on his mind. This was just one possibility. It did not explain how Voldemort became a wraith. It didn't explain the diary; he had long since been curious about that, and he knew there was more to the story than Dumbledore had been willing to tell.

With a sigh, Harry kept digging. He briefly skimmed alchemy, just for a general look over. It was a more intricate version of potions, but as he looked at it, he discounted the possibility instantly. Immortality elixirs needed to be taken regularly to be effective; the Philosopher's Stone created by Flamel had been the masterpiece of alchemical research, since the elixir that was produced from that not only granted longer life but it transformed metals into gold whereas other elixirs just allowed someone to live for a little longer, perhaps a few months or a few years. Harry discounted it instantly for two reasons; first, it didn't explain the diary or the wraith, and second, he could not see Voldemort spending years and years studying alchemy and not getting a return out of it, but he knew if he had then he would need to find really really creative methods of protecting the elixir and the ingredients it was made from.

Vampirism was also out for much the same reasons as alchemy, but beyond that Harry had his own theories of what Voldemort planned to do in order to become the so-called 'Greatest sorcerer in the world.' He'd been thinking about it on and off for the last year, and he had started to realise whatever bright, muggle free future promised to the pureblood extremists was a complete lie. Voldemort was a genocidal psychopath. He had destroyed dozens of families until they were extinct, and he even went as far as he could to kill children. His followers were also sick in the head, and they didn't seem to care they were spilling the precious blood they professed to care so much about. With that in mind and after all, he had seen and heard, Harry didn't doubt for a moment if Voldemort won and he managed to get out into Europe although it might take time - from what he had heard from Fleur last year when they had become close, Grindelwald, the Dark Lord who had proceeded Voldemort, had been supporters in every single country simply because he had lashed out against the Statute of Secrecy. Muggles and muggle-borns were second place. On top of that Grindelwald had taken advantage of the Second World War; he had attacked the wards of incredibly important magical places such as schools, libraries, places like that, and he had lured in the muggle armies. Beauxbatons had come very close to being destroyed itself and it was only due to the sacrifice of the Headteacher and three of the teachers the wards were restored, and the muggles forgot what they were doing that the school survived, but the damage had sent ripples through the magical world as many started to flock to Grindelwald's banner despite knowing he had been responsible for the wards coming down, but the muggles had proven how savage they were.

Fleur had been the first person whom he had met who'd shown Voldemort the type of disgust and contempt Harry himself felt for the bastard. Grindelwald had dominated a large chunk of the globe, attacking magical communities and luring the muggles to attack them to prove his point that the muggles were savages, and the wizards needed to defeat them and rule them in order to ensure peace.

In comparison, Voldemort had barely managed to knock down the Ministry in one country, and Fleur was contemptuous about how everyone was frightened to say his name and how Britain had forgotten Grindelwald, regardless of what Voldemort had done.

Sure, Voldemort had launched the odd attack on mainland Europe, but nothing spectacular. The rest of Europe had learnt from the mistakes in the war against Grindelwald, and over the course of the war, the Death Eaters were lucky to get back with their lives. It didn't help Barty Crouch Senior, in an act of spite because he was so frustrated by Bagnold's refusal to really combat the threat of Voldemort, gave the rest of Europe the records which contained the Death Eaters magical signatures. To this day no 'former' Death Eater travelled to Europe out of fear of arrest. She didn't even respect Dumbledore, who had been safely ensconced in Hogwarts and watched as the world - both worlds - went up in flames, and rewrote history to his own liking to make it seem like he had been on the frontline of the Grindelwald war the whole time.

Too bad it only worked in Britain. Crouch's actions were perhaps the smartest thing Britain had ever done in the whole war. Bagnold and Dumbledore, later helped by Fudge, pardoned the Death Eaters and let them run rampant.

In Europe, Dumbledore was spat on by many for doing nothing.

But Harry knew there was a chance Voldemort could win. There was also little doubt in his head if Voldemort did win, he would begin destroying everything around him, killing every single person who was powerful enough to oppose him although it would take him a while, seeing as how he hadn't yet killed Dumbledore, that could have been because of the old wizard using Hogwarts' wards as a shield, then he would likely commit mass genocide so he would literally be the Greatest Sorcerer in the World because he was the only sorcerer in the world.

It was a horrifying thought but Harry had no intention of letting the son of a bitch win, so he carried on looking through the books. One of the immortality methods which reminded Harry of what he had seen over the years he'd known Voldemort was body-snatching.

Invented by a witch who'd been as obsessed with immortality as Voldemort was, only this witch was willing to be more imaginative and had reasoned getting magical tattoos on people required too many risks and alchemy was too much work, she had decided to choose the simplest means of immortality. Harry didn't know how long it had taken for this woman to reason it like this, but she had decided that the best way for someone to live forever was to simply steal the living bodies of others, forcing their soul and magic and memories into them without giving a thought about the victims.

It was a truly ghoulish form of existence, stealing the bodies of others and living in them until they grew older and older, and leaping from one body to another. As an immortality method, it was brutally simple and disturbing.

Harry could see Voldemort using it. But it was what he had used.

But when he discovered the horcrux method and its description, Harry felt a chill as he remembered the diary. It all made sense; Voldemort had used two methods of immortality, the horcrux and the Dark Marks. During his criminal career, Harry had learnt the value of having multiple plans, points of entry to the point he could make numerous plans to see a job through, so it made sense in his head that Voldemort would research the different methods of immortality and come up with two.

And yet as he read up about the horcruxes, Harry wondered if Voldemort had indeed used this method at all and just subjected himself to numerous rituals. Horcruxes did not work. People who made them still died eventually, there was nothing you could do about that. And yet everything he had seen so far said Riddle had used this method.

It explained the diary.

It explained the wraith.

It explained his snake-like appearance, so why would he use something that didn't do what it said on the tin? The good news was he found a nifty looking spell for detecting soul pieces. Harry noted it down and used his occlumency-gifted and induced photographic memory. He would practice using this spell with his illegal wand in a bit. He had gotten three illegal wands courtesy of a custom wand crafter which provided a more superior fit than the crappy thing Ollivander had introduced him to four years ago. He had always been unhappy with the connection between his wand and the thing Voldemort used.

To him, it was just another example of how close he and the Dark Lord were.

Harry did not like the links between himself and that freak of nature (he hated the word freak, but for Voldemort, he would make an exception; because of the Dark Lord, dozens of kids had been murdered). Looks, since his sixteen-year-old self had resembled Harry. Blood status, both of them were half-bloods. Both of them were raised by muggles, but where Harry had embraced muggle culture and preferred to rob people, Voldemort was nothing more than a psychopath. He did not want to have a wand with a core identical to Voldemort's. He didn't understand why it had happened, but there were no books on wand lore in the library so he could not study it.

Hold on, that was a thought.

Harry closed his eyes and he thought to himself, I need a book to explain why my wand, which is the same core as the Dark Wizard who scarred me, connected to me.

A few books on wand lore appeared. There were not many of them, which showed just how many people involved in the science wanted to keep it under wraps.

Harry picked up two of the books, deciding to put a dent in the immortality research for an hour. As he skimmed through the wand lore books, Harry picked up on another lie. Ollivander had told him long ago 'the wand chooses the wizard, Mr Potter,' but after ten minutes of reading this book collection, Harry now knew it was a lie. Another pointless lie.

Wands were just wooden sticks or anything natural which could hold the magical core of the wand itself, be it a phoenix tail feather, a unicorn hair or a piece of the horn, dragon heartstring or more exotic core ingredients, such as hydra blood or brain stem, basilisk fang or blood or venom or brain, chimaera brain stem or blood, or merperson blood.

They didn't choose anything. Ollivander had lied. All those wands he had given Harry to wave foolishly before he had handed him that holly and feather wand, they would not be necessary, to begin with. It wouldn't be difficult, either; there were spells that could make a wand bond to a wizard, but the spells were not perfect. Harry recalled how he'd met Malfoy, in Diagon Alley - the blond shit had told him his mother was looking for wands. Harry hadn't paid attention at the time, but later when Ollivander had spouted out his lie, his mind had sent up a red flag. But he had never looked until now. Someone wanted him to have that wand. Someone had wanted him to go through the reverse-spell effect in the graveyard, and he had a good idea who. The only problem was Harry didn't understand why Dumbledore was so keen on turning him into a light-sided version of Tom Riddle. Was it because he wanted somebody who was a pliable weapon and yet possessed all the skills and power of Voldemort, and yet was loyal to him?

Harry snorted.

Yeah, like I would ever be loyal to you, you old fuck! Harry thought to himself before he checked his watch. It was nearly lunch. Harry stood up and picked his things up, and he walked out of the Room of Requirement, already trying to think of a decent worthwhile excuse for Hermione and any of the teachers who could ask him where he had been. He doubted any of the teachers would run to McGonagall; it was only a one-off and he was usually in every single class, so he had no problems there. The only problem was Umbridge but he could handle her.

As he mixed with the lunch crowd, Harry focused both on his surroundings and on the people around him and what he had just learnt. His mind kept going back to what he had discovered about the wands, and he thanked God he had made sure to get himself three extra wands simply because he was uncomfortable with the wand Ollivander had given him. But what he didn't understand was why the old wand seller had given him a wand that was clearly designed to be forcibly bonded to him.

A part of Harry wanted to confront both old men and demand answers, but he knew it was a bad idea. Not only would Dumbledore ask questions there was a chance the old fool would wipe his memories of the whole event.

"Harry!" A strident call made him curse under his breath, and he turned and inevitably he found the spies behind him.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry said like he hadn't bunked off the morning classes.

"Don't you Hello Hermione me! Where were you?" Hermione demanded.

Harry clenched his fists as he noted one or two other students looking at them interestedly. For a spy, Hermione was really lousy when it came to being discreet. Her bull in a china shop approach made it impossible for people not to take notice of her. "Do you mind if we talk away from prying ears?" Harry asked bluntly, the threat in his voice obvious but he didn't care. He didn't want to talk about private business in a corridor, where every Tom, Dick, and bleeding Harry could overhear. At the same time, he didn't want Umbridge, Fudge, or Dumbledore learning about what he was doing in the Room of Requirement. Not for the first time, Harry reflected if he was chosen as a spy, and he wanted information from his target he would never do something like this. Unfortunately, Hermione had never learnt those lessons, not once.

It took Hermione a moment to realise there were people listening and watching. Harry inwardly smirked when he saw her reaction. Serves you right, you stupid cow.

When Harry and the two other members of the so-called Golden Trio were sitting down at the house table, he leaned in. "Okay, first things first; when you ask questions like that, don't bark them in the middle of a busy corridor."

"But where did you go, Umbridge was demanding answers from us!" Ron's voice rose a little, making Harry close his eyes and grit his teeth while he fought to control his sanity. And the urge to take out his real wand, and teach the weasel a lesson he couldn't forget.

"And what did you tell her?" Harry wondered if the two of them had landed a detention, not that he cared

"We told her we hadn't seen you."

"So? That's true, right?"

"But Harry, she threatened to put us in detention; if that happened, it would be your fault!" Hermione glared at him.

For a moment Harry was hoping they did get detention with Umbridge. He knew the woman was crossing the line when it came to detentions, but if it meant these two would leave him be, then great. Sure, Dumbledore would press for them to keep on spying on him, but in the short time alone he could continue with his planned burglaries of the Death Eater manors and hopefully find a way of getting Voldemort out into the public eye to ruin Fudge's life.

"And did she?"

"Did she what?"

Cursing Dumbledore's need to have imbeciles spy for him, Harry clarified his question. "Did Umbridge put you in detention?"

"No, she didn't."

"Then what are you complaining about? As for where I was doing, I was in the library. I was tired of some of the classes and I wanted to do something different."

"For the entire morning?" Hermione sounded disbelieving but this time he could understand it. Madam Pince kept a sharp eye on the library and her precious books, she would never let someone who had classes in the library.

But he had the perfect excuse.

"She didn't even notice I was there, Hermione. I walked in without her knowing I was there, and I didn't leave the part of the library I was in," Harry told her, knowing full well Dumbledore would be getting this information sooner or later.

"Which section was that?"

"Transfiguration. Ah, here comes trouble," Harry could have kissed the toad for her timing. Talking to Hermione really did get on your nerves from time to time. Umbridge waddled up to their part of the table, a supremely satisfied look on her face.

"Mr Potter, I see you are here. May I ask you where you have been this morning?"

Harry sighed theatrically. "Oh, dear. I missed your lesson for today, didn't I Professor?" He emphasised her title, making it clear to everyone who was smart enough to work it out what he really thought about her presence in the castle. "As for where I was, I was in the library. I wanted to read up on several Transfiguration techniques for my OWL exams, and I lost track of time."

"I don't believe you," Umbridge's smile was sugary sweet. And her eyes gleamed with malevolence.

Harry sighed again. He took out her wand, making Umbridge take a step back and shove her own hand into the pocket where her own wand was being kept. The fact she believed he would attack her in public showed just how stupid she was. "I, Harry James Potter, do hereby swear on my magic I was studying."

It took a mental effort to keep his words well chosen. If he said he was in the library, and cast the oath he would lose his magic. But since he was telling a half-truth Harry knew he would get through this. And besides, he was sick of Umbridge accusing him of lying every day.

"Expecto Patronum," he said, casting one of the most powerful spells in his repertoire, but it proved his point. He didn't lose his magic. Therefore he was telling the truth. "Next time, Professor, why don't you show a little faith before you judge somebody?"

With that he sat back down at the table, turning his back and ignoring the toad-faced witch, Harry reached over for a tureen of vegetable soup. The smell was calling to him, and he wanted something really different today. But Umbridge wasn't finished with him.

"Mr Potter, regardless of your…. Academic interest," Umbridge stressed the words with all the anger she felt, "you don't have the right to miss classes-."

Harry tuned the toad out and didn't bother replying. He just nodded his head when it seemed appropriate and spooned the soup into his mouth, taking a few rolls from a platter. When he realised the toad was more or less finished, Harry looked up. "Right, Professor. Sorry. Won't happen again," and with that, Harry spooned the soup into his mouth and he had to hold back the moan of delight when he tasted it. Hermione liked to think she was liberating the house-elves from slavery, but Harry knew they wouldn't want that, but they did incredible work.

But Umbridge wasn't finished. "Mr Potter, I am not done speaking to you-."

Pity, Harry thought to himself, turning in his seat and he gave the woman his undivided attention. He didn't dare tell the woman students bunked off lessons every day. He knew she was dying to gain more and more power in the school. One of the first things he knew she'd do was to find a way of enforcing a rule so students wouldn't be able to bunk off classes. It wouldn't work, of course - the school was too big, and truthfully the teachers had learnt over the years it was better to ignore things like that. Besides, they had better things to do with their time; oh, sure, they might tell the Heads of House, but realistically the same problem applied.

Umbridge was just too stupid to realise that.

Personally, he doubted McGonagall would do much. Oh, she might scold him for causing trouble, and she might have a go for missing classes but Harry knew nothing would come out of it because he would simply point out the classes didn't make up the OWL grade. And he usually always attended lessons unless something had happened that called him away from them.

"You will report to my office for detention, tonight," Umbridge smiled in that wide smug, disturbing way that reminded Harry of a muggle documentary of a toad or a frog, snagging a fly or some other flying insect with a long tongue before she turned and waddled back off to the staff table.

"You've done it now, Harry," Hermione hissed.

"Oh, shut up," Harry hissed back, sick and tired of not only Umbridge but of Hermione as well. But he had been hoping to get the latest from Dobby about the layout of Nott Manor so then he could plan out his burglary of the place. The Notts had been one of the most hit of the Death Eater families, but the true blow had been Theodore Nott's death. He had died at the same time as Malfoy, but the majority of their family was still alive and serving Voldemort. Harry planned to make them regret that.

X

Albus Dumbledore looked at the letter he had received over an hour ago from the Ministry, and a part of him was resisting the urge to floo over to the Ministry and put Cornelius Fudge in his place. The ICW was still tying Fudge up in knots for the unexpected Dementor attack in Little Whinging over the summer, so the little fool was not in any position to give Umbridge any kind of real power, despite the odious woman's beliefs to the contrary. Unfortunately, that didn't stop Fudge from trying to lay the blame at Dumbledore's feet. The ICW investigation team were not happy with Fudge's blunders with the search for Sirius Black two years ago. They were also far from impressed when they discovered Fudge had gotten the genius idea of posting the disgusting wraiths so close to a school when they had a track record for causing despair and ripping the soul out of people.

Dumbledore had always had issues with the Dementors, going back a long way. In hindsight, he should have done something about them when he had gained a power base after that terrible duel with Gellert in Berlin, but Dumbledore hadn't had time and he had spent a good few years settling old scores and making amends to the European community for failing to stop Gellert when he'd had the time, but when he finally looked into the matter it was far too late.

In the Ministry's mind, the Dementors were the perfect guards. Their presence ensured the inmates in that fucking prison were in no shape to even think of escape, they were lucky to even know how many years they had been locked in Azkaban. Simply put, the Ministry had been lazy since time began. They didn't like spreading costs in maintaining the Dementors and they didn't give a damn about making sure the prison was properly maintained.

But Sirius's escape had shaken them up, but it surprised Dumbledore none of the more forward-thinking members of the Ministry such as Scrimgeour and Amelia bothered to find the time to survey the prison and make sure nobody else slipped through the cracks.

You could claim a prison was secure.

You could ward it, you could place creatures as disgusting as Dementors around it, and you could say it over and over until you were blue in the face that people slept soundly in their beds knowing the worst the magical world had to offer were locked up, but that didn't mean there were no cracks that wouldn't be taken advantage of.

Sirius had proven there was a very easy way of getting out of Azkaban, even if the former Marauder hadn't bothered escaping from Azkaban years ago, proving that his care for Harry would always take second place.

Dumbledore had tried to use the incident where Harry had nearly fallen to his death when the Dementors attacked that Quidditch match to get rid of them, but Fudge had refused and he had buried the whole thing. To this day Fudge's actions defied any kind of proper explanation in a rational manner, but if the little idiot thought he was going to get away with this, he was in for a wake-up call he would shiver from in years to come.

The letter was essentially a call from the ICW team at the Ministry, telling him about a meeting that was going to be taking place in a few days time. It didn't say what the meeting was going to be about, of course, but thanks to his intelligence network at the Ministry it hadn't taken much effort on the Headmaster's part to discover what it was.

Fudge was claiming that he, Dumbledore, had done nothing about the Dementors while Fudge had. The Minister was trying everything in his power to prove he was lily-white, and he was a good minister even if all the evidence begged to differ. Well, Dumbledore would play this game. And he wasn't going to go unprepared. He planned on showing conclusive proof to the team Fudge had refused to budge, even when he had learnt the Boy Who Lived was put in danger.

Thinking of the Boy Who Lived made Dumbledore pause and try to think of something else entirely, but since his entire brain had been processing the letter and stopping himself from personally visiting Fudge and making the little idiot see first hand what a true wizard was capable of, but it was hard.

He was not going to do anything about Harry skipping his classes. In the grand scheme of things, what did it matter when the boy was going to die anyway? Let him enjoy his childhood. He would make sure Minerva didn't do anything about it. In the meantime he decided he wasn't in the mood to speak to Ron or Hermione, especially since he wanted to spend his time preparing for this meeting - it might be in a few days but he had a decades' worth of impatience to throw back into Fudge's face. He took out his wand and sent a message to their message books. They would receive the message in a few moments and wait until he had the time for a meeting. In any case, the extra time would mean that his spies would have more information for later. At the same time, he asked them to learn more about what Harry was studying; that was a surprise, him visiting the library like that.

Dumbledore wanted to learn more about what his weapon was doing. He knew the boy had taken a magical oath and was studying, so it never once occurred to him to check the reports of the portraits on the way to the library if they had seen Harry there.

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