Chapter 1

Harry stood facing Voldemort; his wand held loosely at his side. Not due to surprise or horror, but because that enabled him the quickest response. His years of Quidditich honed reflexes lay hidden under a calm exterior. Harry hated not with the tumultuous, impassioned fervor of a zealot, but with the cold, calculated intensity of a sniper. He needed the control, the focus; in order to cast the one spell he knew would kill Voldemort. A seeming eternity passed with neither moving. A soft breeze whispered by; gently stroking the tall grasses surrounding them into a subtle dance. Who moved first was impossible to determine, there was a flurry of their cloaks, twitch like motions of their wands, and the simultaneous shouting of "Tangeleto" and "Protego".

Voldemort's spell repealed from Harry's shield with a gong like reverberation that that shattered the still air and created an expanding ripple in the grasses around them. Voldemort sneared as he said, "Well it seems that you have at least learned one spell while at Hogwarts, it must have been Snape who taught you. Everybody knows that Dumbledore was a doddering old fool and Sirius was just incompetent." Harry knew that Voldemort was trying to break his concentration, to cause that fraction of a second delay which would spell death.

Then they began in earnest, first with simple spells and jinxes, then with hexes and curses. The air around them became so saturated with magic that it initially shimmered, next it glowed, then it shined iridescent, and finally as the battle between the two wizards reached its crescendo the air around them began to rip as if the fabric of reality itself was being torn asunder. It was at that moment that Voldemort unleashed his most powerful and deadly spell, the unforgivable curse, AVADA KEDAVRA! The horrible green light filled with hate and malice howled as it coursed through the slim space between them. Prepared, Harry summoned all the love he had ever felt for his parents, for Sirius, for Dumbledore and opened a door within his very soul, releasing a torrent of yellowish energy that flooded forth and engulfing Voldemort's dark magic thereby… thereby…

"No that's not right, avada kedavra is unstoppable, everybody knows that", Harry thought to himself. It just wouldn't work that way. Rewinding to just prior to Voldemort's unleashing, Harry instead saw himself relying upon his Quiddich honed reflexes to leap out of the way at the very last moment while casting the very same spell back at Voldemort killing him … killing him … "No that's also wrong when. I tried to use that spell again Belletrix she just laughed", Harry winced as that night over two years ago filled his memory. Even then Dumbledore saved me with the statues. I'm just not powerful enough, not fast enough, just not enough of a wizard to defeat him.

Feeling himself spiraling into despair, Harry instead conjured an image of himself as the general of a great army of magical beings. Surging forward they swept aside Voldemort's followers leaving him exposed. On Harry's order they all cast at once blowing him into oblivion. "But he could had just disapparated, leaving you lamely on a vacant battlefield" said a small voice from the back of his head.

"How about a massive air battle fought on brooms and various flying beasts where I could force him to spiral into the ground? Or, after throwing his horcuxes one by one into a massive volcano, watching him die? Or, some sort of super weapon or spell to kill him? Or a martial arts extravaganza to include ripped clothing, and offset dialog from their mouths? Or, how about throwing bucket water on him and watching him melt." Harry finally thought dissolutely.

"I can't win"

At this realization, Harry sunk even further into his bed at Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, UK. Many of these fantasies he knew were being fed by the mindless stream of drivel coming from a small television set that sat across from his bed. It would be kind to describe it as a gift from the Dursleys, when it was actually a bribe. They had fixed it in place, along with a number of new locks on his door, in hopes that he would spend as much time as possible in his room. So he accommodated them. It had only been a couple of days since Harry Potter had gotten back from Hogwarts and his initial resolve after Dumbledore's death had left him. Thoughts of Dumbledore, Sirius, and Cedric constantly swam and the corners of his mind, he felt responsible for each and the resulting despair was overwhelming.

"Tomorrow I will pull myself together and start preparing." Harry encouraged himself using the prayer of St. Procrastinator. He knew it was pointless. Grief happened and he had to surrender to it in order to get past it. As Dumbledore had said at the end of his fourth year about the death of Cedric, "It is my belief, however that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

This is also what Harry thought of Dumbledore whose last conversation with Malfoy was so strange, so surreal. Dumbledore must have allowed himself to be captured; it was the only thing that made sense. Then he fought so hard to protect Malfoy, even offering to hide his entire family. Moreover he knew all along about many of Malfoy's plans and attempts to kill him. Still he repeatedly gave Malfoy every chance to choose another path; one away from his father's; one into the right side. The bitterness towards Malfoy that lingered in Harry's mouth every time he thought about that night was beginning to fade. While Harry certainly didn't believe that Dumbledore died because of a blunder, he did believe that Dumbledore died because he held all beings, magical or otherwise to a higher standard. A standard that said everyone has a choice between what is right and what is easy. If nothing else this was the lesson Harry was taking with him.

For the first time in his life Harry was privately appreciative of the Dursleys. The protection his mother's blood offered him in this house was allowing him to feel his grief head on without worrying that Voldemort was going to jump out of his closet at any moment. It was an amazingly fortunate that Dumbledore had virtually coerced the Dursleys into allowing him to stay. If he had not, Harry would have already been on the run. "But running to where?" thought Harry. "I know that I want to visit Godric's Hollow, my parent's graves, 22 Grimmauld place, then be at Bill and Fleur's wedding, and afterwards find the locket... the cup… the snake… something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaws's" With that thought Harry began to realize for the first time in his life how big the world is and how protected he has been up until now.

"Like Dumbledore, I'm on my own now." Harry proclaimed to the room. But as soon as he said those words he began to doubt their legitimacy. "Dumbledore had Hogwarts, and was the Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot, and head of the Order of the Pheonix, and had friends amongst the Centaurs, Merpeople, and who knows who else. I remember thinking of Slughorn as a giant spider who pulled the strings of power from behind the scenes. However Dumbledore was different, he simply had a vision and allowed you to choose whether you wanted it to by your vision also." Harry concluded.

"It's like that fifth year at Hogwarts and being in Dumbledores' Army. I didn't ask for anybody to follow me, it was more like they wanted to go to the same place I did." As Harry thought this a deeper guilt began to overcome him. "Had I just kept it up, we could have stopped them that night. With a small fraction of the members we fought Voldemort's Death Eaters to a standstill and had we had more then… Then what? Who knows and I'll never know. That's the trap. By not following through I'll never know what could have happened."

Getting out of bed, Harry began to pace the floor with growing conviction. He continued the thought that so dismayed him just a moment ago, "I don't want to live my life in regret, always thinking of the possibilities rather than what I actually have. I chose to give up Dumbledore's Army because I thought I was going to learn something that would make me special, powerful so I could have destroyed Voldemort by myself. But that can't happen, I'm not powerful enough and he has an endless supply of Death Eaters. Didn't Dumbledore once tell me that some of Voldemort's followers are almost as powerful as he? Not only can I not beat him, but we can never be free of Voldemort or whoever follows in his footsteps. I wonder if this is how Dumbledore felt after defeating Grindelwald?"

Harry's mind became a cascade of images, impressions, emotions, and most surprisingly thoughts about Professor Binns History of Magic class. It seemed like there have always been Dark Wizards trying to take over the world. In every circumstance a group of dedicated individuals eventually beat them back. Shocked at the prospect that he may have actually picked up something in Professor Binns' class, Harry began crystallize the vision of the world he wanted to live in. Voldemort once told him, "There is no good and evil, there is only power...and those too weak to seek it." But there is evil, it appears whenever someone chooses easy over right. "I am going to give people the opportunity to choose and deal with the consequences." Harry thought resolutely at the same time almost giggling at the simplicity of it. No longer was he going to allow avoiding making a choice to be someone's choice. They have to line up one way or another.

With that thought a deep exhaustion fell over Harry so he crawled back into bed and fell deeply asleep for the first time in several days.